#(as for legal stuff: that's totally fine!)

[psychomaniac14]

don't mind me just stealing D&D ideas for my totally-not-D&D TTRPG that has some of the craziest things imaginable

also putting some of the most awesome ideas in it too, including original awesome ideas!

[lurkiestvoid]

yeahhhhh pretty much, except the only thing is it's less individual investors and more Hedge Funds.

Hedge funds use algorithms to maximize profits by any means necessary, up to and including certain tactics that will deliberately tank a stock. If it's not performing well or if they just don't want it to, they can bet against it and whip out a variety of bullshit of varying legality to push the share price down, which causes other HFs to sell to stay ahead of the market, which leads portfolio managers and accountants and regular folks to sell, and then when the selloffs are done the original HFs make fucking bank off strangling the stock. (This also works in reverse: betting a stock will rise, baiting others to buy in, profit, then bet against it again)

So a "strong" company is one with lots of gains and very few/short losses (harder to break/less room to manipulate, generally Big Name stocks like Disney/Apple/etc) whereas a "weak" company with more losses than gains or lots of volatility is a prime target for the piranhas. The people running companies are terrified of stagnation, let alone losses, because it can very, very easily be taken advantage of and even outright kill the company in just a few weeks or months. Perpetual growth is virtually required to survive the market as it is today.

Individual, casual/hobbyist investors with at most a couple dozen shares in a handful of companies don't have the numbers/margins to seriously affect a stock price. Even hobbyist/semipro "traders" who obsess/hoard and attempt to imitate The Big Guys are comparitively few in number and just don't have the weight to affect much more than their own account balance. But hedge funds do have MASSIVE weight in the market, throwing around thousands of shares at a time, several times a day, for dozens of different tickers, in multiple markets and across multiple industries.

And then there are "market makers." These are giant companies whose SOLE purpose is to manipulate the market ensure "market liquidity," or, "a buy for every sell, a sell for every buy." What this means is that if demand is high but there aren't enough shares available to sell, they make more by "borrowing" them, potentially infinitely. If these market makers feel a stock is too "overvalued," they can dump loads of those borrowed shares to saturate the market and drive the price back down. There is extremely little regulation on this, which leads to situations where the same one share can have dozens or hundreds of "owners."

This can happen because regular everyday investors don't actually "own" stock at all. Like, very literally, their "shares" are 1) not real and 2) can be liquidated by their brokers at any time, because, as the go-between third party, their brokers own the shares "on their behalf," and brokers essentially just "deliver" digital IOUs. All Actual Real Shares are held in the DTCC by a company called Cede & Co, and everything else is traded on credit.

If you buy a "share" in a company through a broker, it's not your name on the company shareholder list, it's your broker's. If you're submitting paperwork to your broker for voting for that company's policies at their annual meeting, your broker is pooling aaaaall the votes and "proportionally" voting "on your behalf." And your broker can decide to lend out your shares without telling you (to their own profit) and you may or may not ever get them back -- this is called "failure to delivers" or FTDs and there is a massive backlog of them that just ... never get addressed.

this is hella over-summarized and sloppy but the tl;dr is that supply and demand economics are beyond broken, the entire stock market is more fake than you ever imagined, it's propped up entirely by computer programs trading IOUs-of-IOUs-of-IOUs, and is easily manipulated at the literal whim of bank-and-billionaire proxies.

companies really have got to be okay with stagnant profits. what is wrong with earning the same amount every year? why does it always have to be more? it's not sustainable. there are only so many people on the planet you can profit from 😭

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.3

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

“Aquaman.” Batman swept into the room, beelining straight for the suddenly apprehensive Atlantean king.

“Batman. What can I do for you?”

“Phantom. Does he pay taxes?”

“Pardon?”

Batman makes a low noise that had Aquaman’s danger senses buzzing.

“Does Phantom have to pay taxes. Towards Atlantis.”

“No…? Why?”

“He wanted money, in exchange for… information, of a delicate sort,” Batman said, diplomatically avoiding the topic of Phantom bargaining for the identities of corpses in exchange for a measly $100 dollars per identity. Like a flea market dealer, that one was.

“You encountered Phantom again?” Aquaman perked up.

“Yes. Gotham’s bay is… polluted.” Batman paused. “With victims. Of murder.”

The entire area quieted as heads turned towards the Dark Knight.

“Yes, I am… distantly aware of Gotham’s waters.” By that, Aquaman gets green around the gills whenever he turns his awareness in that direction. There’s a reason he doesn’t enter Gotham, and the Dark Knight’s ban is only half of that reason. “Ah, but you’re correct. For what purpose would Phantom need mortal currency?”

“Hn.”

“Maybe he needs some stuff?” Flash zipped to a stop next to Batman, feet tapping as he dug into the pile of snacks cradled in his arms. “Us mortals are always coming up with new things, maybe he wants to try some games or something?”

Batman tilted his head down, seriously considering Flash’s suggestion. “It’s plausible.”

“Barry, Barry, Barry. He’s old as hell, right? He probably wants to try the new booze!”

“Hal, my man!” Flash fist bumped Green Lantern, who came up. “You’re back! What happened to John?”

“Dunno. He got called somewhere that way,” Green Lantern waved a vague hand towards the left. “Had to deal with a politician or something from that area.” He shrugged, swinging an arm over Barry’s shoulders to put him in a headlock and stealing a chip.

“Huh. Anyways, would our mortal alcohol even work on a demi-god or something?”

“We should ask!” Hal turned towards Batman. “You should ask if he wants to go for a drink, spooky!”

“He’s a child.”

“He’s been around for more than a millennia, Bats.”

“Informational gathering, right, Hal?” Flashgot out of the headlock, quickly munching on his snacks to stop Green Lantern from stealing them.

“Totally. Yup.”

“…Fine.”

“Wait, are we just gonna ignore that Gotham’s waters are full of bodies?”

“Yes.”

——

“What?” Danny asked, mind half on the bags he’s dragging out of the water and the other half on the essay he has to submit in about four hours.

“Green Lantern wanted to invite you out for a drink.”

Danny turned to the stoic Gotham knight, who had his wrist computer out to log the bodies’ info the moment Danny gave him the information. Some of them even told Danny who murdered them, so Batman could start building cases with solid leads.

Danny’s only twenty. He’s not legal yet but he doesn’t want to give any clues to who he is. How is he supposed to…

Ah!

“Can’t.” Danny shrugged. “I’m not legal. I died when I was fourteen so…” Danny trailed off, speechless at the drowned puppy face Batman was giving him. What the fuck.

“Anyways, fork over my payment.”

Batman wordlessly hands him a wad of hundreds.

“What do you need cash for?” Batman suddenly asked.

“Huh? Isn’t it obvious?” Danny tucked it in. “Material things, obviously. I need a blanket,” because holy shit, Gotham is damn cold this time of year. “Anyways, see you same time next week, litterer.”

“I don’t litter.”

“Tell that to the batarangs I found under the water,” Danny grumbled. “But I’ll stop calling you that if you get a signature from Poison Ivy. I have a friend who loves her.”

“An alive friend?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy?”

Danny snickered and disappeared. He’s gotta cram that essay.

——

“There’s a possibility Phantom might be homeless.”

“Batman, I mean this in the nicest way, but for the love of Atlantis, please stop giving me headaches. It’s time like these I wish I stayed a lighthouse keeper.”

[elibean]

maaaaan i do not get a lot of the jjk hype. it’s a fun romp for sure but like. its writing Isn’t Great

[sanguineterrain]

i'm sure you have plenty of requests, but do you write part 2's/continuations of blurbs?? bc i'm FULLY invested in the bodyguard!jason au and i need to know what else transpires in their time together. does he read to the reader?? does reader take him clubbing with him subsequently losing them in the crowd?? is he their unofficial date to the countless galas and social gatherings they're invited to?? what is their sleeping arrangement? the people demand politely request answers!

the people shall get their answers!

bodyguard!jason todd x gn!reader. pt 2 to this. tw reader punches a rich asshole, pining, tension, etc. jason is a sweetheart as always! all fics are reblogged to @sanguinelibrary

****

Galas suck.

You swish champagne in your glass and watch it fizz. Then you do it again. And again.

A man's loud laughter carries over the delicate string quartet. You glower in his direction for a second. Then you rest your head on the wall behind you.

"I'm bored to tears, Red," you say.

Hood is playing wallflower with you, except he actually has an excuse.

"To tears, huh?" he says. "Maybe you should try being social. I believe that's what these shindigs are for."

Your head lolls in his direction, brows rising. "That's pretty rich coming from you. You're the least social person I know."

"Well, I do shoot people for a living. Tends to put others off. Go figure."

You stop a passing waiter and pluck a vegetable croquette from tray, then pop it into your mouth. "You haven't shot anybody in months."

Hood sighs. "Yeah. Sad stuff."

"You could shoot somebody here."

"Not without good reason," he says.

"How 'bout for being an entitled, elitist prick?"

"I'm afraid I need a little more reason than that. For legal purposes. But I do love shooting entitled, elitist pricks."

"Fine. Give me the gun."

Hood hums. "I think I'm a bad influence on you, trouble."

"You're the best influence on me," you say. "Give me your gun. I can be trusted."

"That's a negative."

You finish the croquette and edge closer to him, your shoulders touching. You tap him on the shoulder. He leans in, ear near your mouth.

"Ye-es?" he asks, eyes flicking to you. Wow. You've never gotten used to Hood's laser focus on you.

"What if I said you're the wind in the trees and the music of the birds and all of my dreams come to life?" you ask, only exaggerating a little.

"I'd probably check for a concussion," says Hood. You can tell he's smiling behind his mask.

"What if I said you're too sexy for your shirt?"

"Hm. Can't disagree there. Still no gun, though."

"Bastard."

Hood bumps your shoulder and straightens. "Sorry, trouble. Looks like we'll have to soldier through without sending anyone to Emergency."

You suck your teeth. "Man. Will you dance with me, at least?"

Hood snorts.

"I'm not joking," you say. "I headcanon you to have secret waltz and tango skills."

"You headcanon me?"

"Yes. I write headcanons about you on my blog." You gulp down the rest of your champagne. "So, what do you say?"

"Dancing isn't in my job description, trouble. 'Sides, there's plenty virile, eligible bachelors here for you to rumba the night away with."

You wrinkle your nose. "Who describes people as virile? They're not lab mice."

"Sorry." Hood clears his throat, then cocks his hip. "They're hot and totally into you!" he says in a peppy voice. "Better?"

You shiver. "Don't do that again. Gave me the heebie jeebies."

"'Gives the heebie jeebies' is actually on my resume," Hood says. "Right after 'scares the shit out of people.'"

The music slows to a finish. The dancers clap. You groan, leaning against the wall.

"Maybe I can pull the fire alarm," you say.

"Excuse me!"

An old, small man in an expensive suit with white, thin hair struts over. You squint at him as he comes to a stop in front of you.

"Isn't your father that ambassador?" he asks, eyes roving over you. You know that gaze. It's the gaze that's deciding whether or not you're worth speaking to.

"Yes, he is," you say. "May I help you?"

He sniffs. "Terrible business, that. He very nearly cost that young woman her life at that banquet."

Hood brushes past you, stepping forward. "Sir, I need you to back up. Safety measures and all that."

Your jaw tightens. This is literally the last conversation you want to have, talking about your tightass, selfish father. You've done enough of that in therapy.

You hide a smile behind his back.

The man peers at Hood, mouth curling. "What business have you, bringing threatening men like him in here? This is a private event."

You step around Hood. "He's my bodyguard. He's not a threat."

"He certainly looks like one. He's dressed like a hoodlum."

"Hence the name," Hood says cheerfully.

The man sneers. "Those scars of yours are hideous, young man. I can't believe you accompany your charge in public looking like you do."

"What the hell did you say?" you ask, stepping to him. "Huh?"

"Trouble," Hood says quietly, touching your shoulder. "It's fine—"

"No, because what the fuck? Where the fuck do you get off?" you say, invading his personal space. How fucking dare he?

The asshole's bulldog eyebrows rise. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. Red's being perfectly professional. Won't even eat the hors d'oeuvres. And you're commenting on his body? Are you insane? Did all that corruption eat your brain?"

His face is now a nice shade of beetroot. Hood clears his throat behind you.

"C'mon, ease up," Hood says. "Don't do this f'me."

"Yes, listen to your mutt," the man says, sneering. "Seems he's got a modicum of sense, unlike you. It looks like all of his house training has a promising future."

Your fist connects with cartilage.

It's a blur after that. Someone pulls you away—Hood—and your now-sworn enemy screams bloody murder, red dripping down his suit. Your hand kind of hurts, and your head really hurts.

Hood herds you through a set of French doors, into a garden. Cool, night air fans your face.

"Well, 'm glad I didn't give you a gun," Hood says, walking you to a bench by the fountain in the center of the garden.

Sweet scents of lilac and rose waft through the air. You look away as Hood carefully inspects your hand.

"Hm. Just a little bruised. No injury."

"I tucked my thumb like you taught me," you say.

"I see. Think you broke his nose."

Is that pride you hear in his voice?

Hood sighs, releasing your hand. "But you shouldn't have done that."

You start to shake, anger shooting through you all over. You curl into yourself.

"I'm not apologizing to that shithead. He's a gutless, no-good, gutter snipe. Nothing under that hideous toupee but air."

Hood laughs. "Easy, Sundance. Y'know guys like him are full of hot air. Surprised you let him get to you. You don't care what those rich assholes say."

You turn around to look at Hood. "Someone had to take him down a peg. What he said was horrible."

"You've heard so much worse, trouble. You take it all with a grin and then get back at 'em later. 'S how you always do it."

"Yeah, well... well, I was sick of what he was saying. He can say all he wants about me, I don't give a shit. But when I'm in the room, no one talks about my bodyguard."

Hood is quiet for a long moment. There's only the sound of the babbling fountain and crickets. You rub your sore hand and stare at a rose bush.

"Y'don't need t'defend me," he says. "People have said far worse, and I definitely don't want you puttin' your reputation on the line for me, trouble."

"Fuck my reputation!" you say, scooting closer to him. "You're important to me, Red. Everyone should know not to say a damn thing about you when I'm around."

He shakes his head. "I'm just your bodyguard."

"No, you're my friend. Right?"

Hood looks up at you. "I—yeah, of course, but—"

"Well, friends defend each other."

"So some rich guy doesn't wanna look at my ugly mug," Hood says. "Big deal."

"You aren't ugly," you say, brow furrowing. "Don't say that."

"Trouble. Sweetness. Look at me. Tyra Banks would call me a lost cause."

"Don't be a dummy, Red. You're hot and mysterious, and you have pretty eyes. You're a fantasy protagonist's wet dream."

Hood leans in. Your heart picks up. Oh, you're nervous. You're getting nervous again. A tornado siren wails in your head. Danger! Danger!

"So you're sayin' I'm too sexy for my shirt?" he asks.

"So sexy it hurts," you say, voice slightly uneven.

"Mm." He looks you over. His lashes are so long. Damn. "Y'haven't even seen my whole face."

"I don't need to," you say instantly. "I'm an excellent judge of good looks."

He laughs. You smile.

"Think you can sneak us out?" you ask. "For my safety, of course."

"Mm, of course." Hood looks over the garden. "Yeah, I think I can manage that."

"I'll get us burgers," you say. "I'm starved."

"Taking me out, huh?"

It's a joke, but God, what if? What if you could go on a date with Hood, without masks or politics? What if you could see his smile? Feel his smile?

"If I did, I'd take you someplace nice," you say. "Not just a burger joint."

Hood is quiet as you go to the edge of the garden and he prepares to get you both over the balcony. He holds out a hand and puts his other on your waist so you can climb. Your faces are close. You smile, a little nervous.

"For the record," he says, not letting go until you're safely on the grass below. "I'd be content eating anywhere with you, trouble."

Hood easily vaults over the balcony, landing on his feet. He gestures with his arm.

"You lead," he says, eyes dancing.

God, you're in so much trouble.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hello! I hope you're doing well and I'd like to thank you for being the rad trans uncle of Tumblr. I'm in a fuckin' crimson state that's quite unfriendly to trans people and I'm afraid I won't be able to leave until 2028 at the earliest. Might I ask if there's anything you'd recommend doing? Anywho, I hope the leaves were great where you are! Peace!

It's been weird, but I'm glad to be here. :) As for recommendations, well, while you are not in a great place for trans rights, thinking ahead towards a move a few years down the road *is* good. Stuff you should be considering:

Get your finances in order.

Start with making a budget (I like the tool YNAB), tracking your habits, and looking for places to reduce spending. I know that can mean squeezing blood from a stone, but even saving up gas money for a cross-country trip can move up your moving timeline.

You also want to start planning your moving expenses. For example, buying boxes, using a moving service, cost to service your car, calming meds for your pets, etc. Just make a spreadsheet and keep adding as you think of things. Have a rolling total and track against your savings.

Lastly, get your credit score in order. A free service like Credit Karma is fine, but as you get closer to having to apply for rent or a mortgage, sign up with each credit agency and pull your report. Get caught up on any delinquencies asap and do not miss any payments from now until you are moved - missed payments take the longest of ANYTHING to fall off your score.

If you've changed your legal name, make sure it matches with all the credit bureaus. If you feel responsible with credit, ask for a credit line increase every 6 months - that will help with your debt ratio if you are currently trying to pay down a balance. Plan a credit score timeline with a hard stop at least 2 months before you apply for a loan/rent -- after that, no more making any big purchases or applying for new cards. Try to have no more of 10% of your total credit line actually on your cards by the end of your timeline. Aka, if your line of credit is $1,000, you only want $100 on the cards.

2. Start paring down your stuff

Gt crafty hobbies? Stop adding to your stash. Stop it. Start getting rid of broken things, clothes that don't fit, stuff you don't see yourself using, or stuff that is cheaper to sell & buy at your new place, rather than pay to move. If this all feels hard, put the items you're questioning in a box now, and then open it next year and see how you feel. Don't buy anything you wouldn't want to move.

3. Start your research

Make lists of towns that look promising. See how their local government works. Check the local reddits and facebook groups to get the vibes. Make lists of "must haves" and "nice to haves" at the state, city, neighborhood, and even house level. Get an idea for what the cost of living will be in your new place. Decide what your deal-breakers will be.

4. Work on your job skills

Four years is a lot of time to improve yourself for a good salary hike. It's a lot of time to get marketable for remote jobs, which will broaden your opportunities to live where you want. If remote work interests you, start looking at job listings and note the requirements. Make a plan to be qualified within 3 years.

5. Make a bucket list of things to do in your current state

There must be some good things about your state. There were in mine. Afford yourself grace and do some fun things that you might not have the chance to do again when you move. Hang out especially with local friends and family you care about.

6. Keep an eye on what's happening wrt trans rights.

Follow trans pundits and your local trans rights orgs. Get in the habit of learning what's going down in your municipality, down to the school board level. Be prepared to have to adjust your moving timeline if shit hits the fan.

7. Stay on top of your healthcare and legal stuff

No passport yet? Apply now. Forgetful about getting your HRT renewed? Set reminders and work hard to stay on top of everything. As you get closer to moving, research healthcare options in your new home and get appointments lined up asap.

8. If you're selling & buying a house, be prepared for it to take nearly a year

Seriously, it can take forever for everything to work out. Work with realtors in your new state who specialize in remote sales & relocations. Start repairing your current place by year 3 and start packing months in advance of the final move.

tldr; Treat the next 4 years like you're at college and your degree is Getting the Hell Outta Dodge. Plan as much as you can with to-do lists and spreadsheets, with some kind of monthly goal at first, then weekly and daily goals as your move approaches. It can feel overwhelming, but knowing *now* that you are going to move means you can plan as much as possible and reduce the amount of panic-decisions.

Good luck!

[brucewaynehater101]

I have a really soft and cute au for Lesbian Janet that could work in any universe but I think works best in the Young Justice TV Show Universe.

See, everyone gets really confused when Tim talks about his Mom, sometimes referring to her as Mama. Tim thinks that using two different titles like that should make it Obvious that he has Two Moms but well. The Bats may be Super Geniuses but they are still Idiots. Tim is also an absolute Mama's Boy with Both his Moms. He loves them both So Much.

Oh, where is Jack you ask? He doesn't actually exist. He's the fake name and personality that Tim's Mama came up with and used Magic to disguise as so they could get Legally Married For Tax Benifits. Also to get his Mama a legal identity. Why would she need one of those? Well... as was mentioned, Tim's Mama has Magic with a Captial M. This by extension means Tim is Magic With A Capital M as well. Totally has nothing to do with Janet and his Mama sculpting him from clay and breathing life into him. Woes of pregnancy who? Not Janet that's for sure.

Also Tim does Not tell anyone that he has Magic and he doesn't show it off. The only reason the Bats found out about it is because Tim came to a meeting with Bruce and Diana went "you. Your Magic is Familure but I don't know from where." And Tim was sweating while saying, "Magic? What magic??" And after getting questioned by Diana and Bruce he Caves and tells them a half truth, "fine. I was made from Clay, like you. My Mom didn't want to go through the struggles of Childbirth but still wanted a child. Instead of adopting like any sane and rational person, she made a deal with a God or Godess. I don't know all the details but she owed them something in exchange for Me. I do know the debt has been paid already though."

The debt was simply a tea spoon of blood for the ritual and A Kiss. Janet over paid the second part by a lot.

As for how Janet met and wooed A Goddess? Well, she was on a dig in Greece when her boat she was using to get to another island was caught in a storm and washed up on a different island. The Goddess was expecting violence or anger at being stranded, perhaps even Sorrow. But no, Janet took one look at the Temple in the distance and was pushing past her saying she needed to get to the Temple because it's clearly in *amazing* condition and could bring So Many insights into Ancient Greek culture and building practice. For the first time in decades, as this Random Woman ran her hand along a pillar and started rambling about the design and what the type of collums were called, Circe felt herself blushing.

CIRCE?!?!?

FUCK YEAH.

Anyways, this is absolutely adorable. Fuck. I would love an entire fic of Janet. Here's a general plot line:

Janet hasn't ever really been interested in romance. She's tried dating a few guys in high school for appearance sake, but she usually broke the relationship off when they became too affectionate.

This is when others started referring to her as "cold." She wasn't, but few people got close enough to her to listen to her rambles about ancient civilizations, archeology, and sociality impacts of culture. She enjoyed other stuff, but nothing quite lit her up like those topics did.

In college, she did find and make a few friends with similar interests. This is where she figured out she was into women and not men. The relationships lasted longer, but she was single by the time she graduated with her bachelor's.

Her master's ends up as some sort of work study where she travels the world. She's more invested in her studies and work than relationships at this point. She enjoys learning about people's lives and cultures but doesn't seek out more than friendship.

I'm not sure if Janet has already or is working on her doctorate by the time she ends up lost on an island (or really how archeology even pays bills).

When she arrives on the island, there's a beautiful woman there as well. Janet notices this, but doesn't give a flying fuck in comparison to the architecture.

And Circe? Finds herself amused and confused by this woman who, although is into women, doesn't care about Circe's looks. Janet just keeps asking questions about Circe's life, the temple, the plants, the culture, etc. It becomes endearing watching her work late into the night with her research.

Janet is so enthralled in all that is going on that she doesn't notice Circe's continuous flirting. It's so fucking frustrating for Circe, but makes her unbearably fond as well. Janet starts to consider this drop dead gorgeous woman a close friend of hers as they "work" late into the chatting about ancient Greece, their past experiences, and their lives. Janet, who has some experience with romance but not much, even flirts back. After all, women call each other beautiful all the time and hold hands and shit. Surely Janet can platonically cuddle with her friend while Circe compares Janet's eyes to the night sky.

It's only when Janet is ready to leave that she realizes that she's willing to give up everything she's worked for, all of her findings and education, to have more time with Circe. Janet is in love with her best friend.

Also, Circe is able to get a fake ID as "Jack" due to magic and Janet's connections

[crabbunch]

for @mcyt-aro-week - day 5 - flowers/wedding

"Etho," Bdubs says. "Should- should we get married?"

Etho blinks and sits up, moving his head out of Bdubs's lap. "What?"

"Well- hey, you didn't have to move," Bdubs pouts. "I mean, should we get married?"

"Why?" Etho says. He's not wearing his mask right now, and even with it on, he manages to expressive. He's obviously confused, which is weird, because Bdubs sort of thought...

"Well, you know," Bdubs laughs a little awkwardly as he rubs the back of his head. "It's- I mean, we're- I don't know! It just seems like something we could do."

It's hard to explain. He loves Etho. It's a deep, deep love, too, because Bdubs loves often and easily, and that's fine, he loves loving people, but Etho- Etho and him have been entangled with each other for so long that it's different. Bdubs knows Etho, and Etho knows Bdubs. Bdubs would do anything for a lot of people. He loves it. He loves them. But Etho...

Well. He's special. And maybe that kind of connection requires some kind of... marking. Celebration.

"I just kind of thought," Etho says. "That- um- marriage was for people in love."

"Bwuh- huh?" Bdubs says. "But- isn't that us?"

"What?" says Etho. "Um, no, I didn't think so..."

"Well, I do love you, you know," Bdubs says. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

Etho looks away, and a horrible dread rises up from Bdubs's stomach.

"But... um, you love me, right?" Bdubs says, voice wavering.

"Well, yeah!" Etho says. "Just- I mean, not in the get-married way."

"Oh," says Bdubs. "Oh! Well, that's fine. Okay!"

"Okay?" Etho chuckles, shoulders relaxing slightly with relief.

"Yeah, I was scared you were going to be like- oh, you've been hanging out with me for all this time, and you hated me for all of it, and were just too shy to say so. Wow!" Bdubs laughs. "So who would you want to get married to?"

"Um," says Etho. "I don't really know. No one, maybe."

"Oh!" Bdubs says. "So you- so if you're not saving your marriage for anyone, can we still do it?"

"Huh?" says Etho. "Oh, yeah, sure."

"Hey! You were so worked up about it earlier, and now you're just giving in!?" Bdubs says. "What's with that?"

"Huh? Well, if you're fine marrying someone who doesn't return your feelings, I'm fine with it," Etho says. "I like the idea of wedding presents."

"No, but-" Bdubs breaks off and grabs his face in his hands, frustrated. "It's not the hearts and kissing and stuff, because like, I wanna do that to you, but I don't care if you want to do it to me. It's just- you know me, yeah? And I know you. And that's the thing that I care about. That's the reciprocation."

"Oh," says Etho. He smiles. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, I love you. Like that."

"So we can get married?" Bdubs says hopefully.

"Of course," Etho says. "Make sure you require people to bring gifts on the invitation, though."

"You got it," Bdubs promises him.

- - -

Neither of them wear white. Etho, who has about 20 copies of the same outfit and wears nothing else, wears the same outfit he always wears. Bdubs isn't really surprised.

Bdubs borrows one of Cleo's dresses and looks absolutely fabulous in it, even if he does keep tripping over the hem. They pinned it up for him, but it's still far too long- NOT because he's short. Because Cleo's a giant.

It's totally worth it though.

Scar officiates, which means that there's a 75% chance they aren't actually legally married, but Bdubs isn't too bothered about it. This is more for sentiment than anything else. Actually, it's probably a good thing if his finances aren't tied to Etho's, since he commits tax fraud. Etho doesn't take off his mask when they kiss, which kind of sucks, but is also par for the course. Joel monologues loudly to anyone who will listen about the deep bond he and Etho share.

"Congrats," Grian says, grinning like a shark as he downs what has to be his 12th glass of punch, seemingly unaffected by it. "You've got a nice hustle going on here."

"You-! You and Scar and Mumbo did the same thing last season!" Bdubs protests.

"Yeah, but we ended up meaning it," Grian says dismissively. "This? Well, I mean, maybe you mean something by it. Etho doesn't."

Bdubs chokes on his own cup of punch.

Back in the games-

Well. Bdubs tries to keep his lives separate, but it's hard when some of his closest allies don't even bother pretending like it never happened. Etho and Cleo are always rubbing it in his face, the jerks!

The point being- he doesn't like thinking about it, but back in the games, when Bdubs had been red for the umpteenth time and not quite desperate, he had thought-

"He loves me."

And everyone had laughed.

Because the thing was- it had been a little bit of a lie. Playing up the role. Leaning into the blind faith that had carried him that far. But the faith had been there, and it had gotten him that far, so-

Etho doesn't love easily, and when he does, it's a choice, fragile and thin-spun from familiarity and the thrill of trying to stay. It's a little different from the love Bdubs feels- even the platonic kind.

And. The thing had been. That Etho hadn't chosen to love him then. Or he had, but it hadn't been enough, or maybe it was never love at all and it was just- the knowledge that Bdubs was Bdubs and Etho was Etho and that they'd always find each other.

Etho plays into the roles he's given, just like Bdubs. He's a little more subtle about it, sure, but Joel decides that they're soulmates and Etho plays along. Gem decides that he's washed up and he plays along. Cleo decides that they're divorced and he plays along.

Bdubs says, he loves me, and Etho lets him die.

That's how he knows there's something more than Etho just playing along there.

"Well, you think what you want," Bdubs says dismissively, and wanders off. It doesn't matter if Grian knows that he and Etho have stumbled into something a little different than love.

"Bdubs!" Etho shouts, waving him over to the gift table. "Look what Skizz got us!"

"A crockpot?" Bdubs squints.

"An essential for any newly-wed couple," Skizz says sagely.

"Well, if you say so," Bdubs says, and sits down next to Etho to help him unwrap presents.

[running-in-the-dark]

it only got worse from there!

he kept coming back. he was mean and rude to everyone every single time. he demanded we be done by 8pm. the one time he dared say that while I was around I said we are going as fast as we can, and that's it (well, he then responded that "I" should have started three weeks ago and I very sternly said that I also had to write my thesis at the same time, so I did as much as possible. that shut him up.)

like. it's fucked up to insist that we get done on Saturday at all. but especially because he has previously said it'd be fine if we needed until late February, then it became the 15th. and now suddenly the world is ending because we cannot do it in one fucking day.

well. in the end he somehow got my husband's parents to pay him a ridiculous amount of money so that we can finish by Monday. I fucking hate this guy.

going crazy here.

the landlord keeps coming in. AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN.

now he's apparently fixing the lock on the front door

like dude fuck off?? he's constantly making comments that we won't be done by 8 tonight. yeah man maybe if you keep on distracting everyone!

[britcision]

FRIENDS IT IS HERE. As promised even! We are technically just under 20k for this chapter, but still not small enough that cutting it in half has stopped it from brutally murdering the app, so…. We’ll see how this posts! 😅

I did myself a whole honkin’ reread on the whole thing too, refreshed my lil reminders of what I named things and all the lil threads I was playing with… and hot damn it’s a beast huh?

The good news is, although we are getting into plot, we are getting out of the heavy stuff, at least for the next little bit! Back to our silly happy fun times with the boys 🥰

And, y’know, dealing with Jason’s death and first transformation and all. Totally all fine! Nothing to worry about! 😇

Today’s chapter is a lil Bruce-heavy in this front half because the main thing stopping me was that I got most of the way through before I realized I needed to rewrite Jason’s entire first scene, but I’m a lot happier with it now 😁

First Chapter and AO3:

Previous Chapter:

——————————

The Finished Core part 1

When it finally happened, Jason’s core coming in was pretty anticlimactic. For all they’d worried it might trigger a transformation, rile up the pit, or even have a physical shockwave… the event itself was almost disappointing. Buried busily in some paperwork for the library, Jason himself hadn’t actually noticed.

He’d already started feeling what he thought might be his core over the past few days; like a vibrating ball of energy, usually in the middle of his chest (although it wandered in all directions). Which would make the knot of tension that sometimes sat in his gut and sometimes went as far up as his throat… probably Pitty.

Not fun having a distinct sensation that went along with everything else the Pit was. Did nothing at all to ease his worries about what the hell would happen when they were both actually completed.

But when the day finally came… yeah, nothing. The soft, warm glow in his chest when he thought about the project had grown steadily stronger over the week and a bit he’d known Danny at that point, so he hadn’t really paid enough attention to notice a change.

They’d still been seeing each other every day, although now that the new school semester had started up it had slowed down to a couple hours in the evening. Jason had dived headlong into his restoration project both on Frostbite’s advice, and to keep himself from counting the hours. Which, apparently, worked?

The biggest disruption was actually Danny blasting in through the wall not a minute later, invisible until he dived through one of Jason’s freshly legal goons and almost knocked the table over. Luckily there were no actual Red Hood links lying around - Catherine’s name was staying clean, which was for the best since Jason still hadn’t thought of a way to bring it up.

Even now, back from another appointment with Frostbite to confirm all was well, Jason didn’t actually feel any different? It was official though; both cores were complete, and now all they had to do was wait until the pit matured enough to actually leave Jason’s body and do its own thing.

Now that he didn’t have any choice but to confront it, he couldn’t have said what he’d expected anyway, but… well, surely there should have been something? More energy? More corruption? Hell, even increased ghost senses or some indication that the powers would be coming in.

According to Danny, intangibility usually came with the pit dropping out of your stomach and feeling floaty. Accidental floating came with a head rush or feeling like falling. Invisibility just fucking happened.

All he felt was weirdly normal? The fancy ecto ice was working, and his little ghost succulent - that or all the time with Danny; even Pitty’s flares of emotion were manageable. The green haze hadn’t come back since meeting Lady Gotham.

And okay, maybe he was pushing that by going right back to the manor the next day, but listen. Frostbite had reminded him to do calming tasks, since Pitty should start being more aware of their surroundings now.

Baking with Alfred was as calming and soothing as Jason could imagine, without stapling himself to Danny in classes. And sure, he’d helped with Danny’s homework the past couple nights, but the guy would get sick of him eventually. Faster if they stayed attached at the hip.

(And that had been another “fun” tidbit Frostbite had dropped on them; if they were actually making their own ghost baby, they’d have been able to trade the core off between them. Jason hadn’t thought anything could make that idea sound appealing, but if he coulda just stuffed Pitty into someone else… well, he probably wouldn’t actually wish its corruption and constant tantrums on anyone else, but having a break woulda been nice.)

Now that his core was done, technically the daily hanging out probably wasn’t as necessary. So long as Jason had some backup plans to keep himself calm and in control. Which should mean that they could go from hanging out as a necessary chore to just… friends.

And since no one in the city wound Jason up like Bruce, if he happened to also be at the manor he’d have a trial-by-fire for his shiny new core. He’d kept his word and tapped out of patrol since meeting Lady Gotham (and apparently Harley had taken the manor in fire and glory the night after and locked Bruce… somewhere for two full days), so he’d not heard from B since.

According to Tim, Constantine hadn’t returned to Gotham at all.

The thought of their names only stirred angry bubbles from Pitty, and Jason absolutely wasn’t self destructive or a masochist, so he was just testing to see how far that’d last. How careful he’d need to be, and how aware the little guy was.

So obviously he wasn’t even all the way into the manor before he ran into the man himself.

Stopping short, Jason’s fist clenched more from force of habit than any actual desire. Sucking in a deep breath, he thought of his ghost succulent (which had started glowing faintly blue a couple nights ago, which was hopefully a good thing?) and carefully unclenched. Nodded a little stiffly.

This would be the first time they’d been alone together since… shit, he didn’t even know. He hadn’t seen the guy without the buffer of at least one other bat in months.

“Bruce,” he said warily, half hoping the man could just… be normal. For once. Nod, say hi, fuck off about his own business. He couldn’t still be on his anti-Danny crusade, could he?

The man actually flinched, face twitching through a couple of expressions Jason couldn’t even guess at. A sudden urge between his shoulder blades did nothing to help, distracting him long enough for everything to be smoothed under the usual masks.

If Bruce just had a damn aura… okay, that’d be one change with the completed core. All of his attempts to reach out with his own aura before had basically involved his whole body actually leaning in the same direction.

That… urge, itch between his shoulders, if that had been his aura trying to reach out, felt more like an entirely new muscle group. Curiosity won and Jason focused, trying to follow the urge and reach out… and wasn’t sure it had worked at all.

Because all he could feel was sorrow and regret, and that didn’t sound like B. At all. His compartmentalizing was out the ass, sure, but what the hell would he actually feel sorry for?

“Jason?” And from the sound of it, not the first time he’d said his name. Great.

Shelving the apparently-faulty aura for now, Jason frowned back.

“I’m here to see Alfred.” It wasn’t exactly a warning. Wasn’t exactly a threat, although it carried the possibility. Meant that if B pissed him off enough to leave, he’d face some British disapproval.

Bruce’s shoulders sagged just a little, and then he drew himself up, his face firm and resolved. Jason tensed automatically; if he actually tried to bar him from seeing Danny face to face, would he still be able to walk away?

That was why he’d brought the glacierfrost. Slipping a hand into his back pocket, he crushed a crystal quickly before the man could open his mouth. Wintergreen mint burst across the back of his tongue, another brief flicker of distraction that, for some reason, came with another pang of sorrow.

“I’m sorry.”

Jason nearly stumbled, and he hadn’t even been moving. Bruce looked… tired, all of a sudden. More tired than he could remember ever seeing him.

“Wait… what?”

Bruce gave him a sad smile.

“It’s been brought to my attention… multiple times… that you should have heard that from me alone first. And then I kept adding more and more to be sorry for. And I know you don’t want to see me, so now seems like the best time to start.” It was jerky, and awkward, and probably the most uncomfortable Jason had ever seen Bruce in a conversation.

Which only served to confuse him further. Bruce overplanned everything; he never acted without at least two layers of backups. It was why he had a million plans for every possible micro-scenario. He didn’t do spontaneous.

“What are you even talking about?” He asked, half exasperated, and Bruce’s smile widened a fraction. That only made it more self deprecating.

“There are too many things to count, but… Jason, I’m sorry I sprung the apology on you at the gala. I thought having the world as my witnesses would show you I meant it, but I should have asked first. I should have apologized first, to you. Alone. I’m… aware what it says about me that I couldn’t.” He was almost wearing one of Brucie’s self-deprecating smiles now, but the edges were raw. Unpolished. Certainly not camera ready.

Real?

Jason’s mouth opened and closed a few times, his brain entirely short-circuited. Of all the things Bruce could have said to him… of all the things the man might apologize for, he’d honestly forgotten all about the damn gala speech.

Forcing himself to focus, he folded his arms and regarded his former father figure warily.

“Sure, that’s a place to start,” he agreed, more sarcastically than he’d meant to. But he couldn’t take it back.

There was another moment of stiffness, and then Bruce’s shoulders sagged as well as he breathed out, still looking… well, so much more human. More breakable, more fallible. Or was that just from hearing him admit he’d been wrong?

“I do mean it, Jason. I did mean it,” he said softly, piercing blue eyes unusually gentle as he looked him over, and suddenly Jason knew what was bothering him.

The mask. The iron mask of Batman, the bumbling shield of Brucie. B always had a mask, over every interaction. Every situation, every possible scene, B always had a character to play. And he played them well.

That was what looked wrong about him. He wasn’t… intentional. His posture was open and unthreatening, his face lax in a way it never was while he held every muscle in check.

This was just actual, sincere B.

Jason wasn’t completely sure why that made him want to run or cry, but it said a fuck of a lot about him too.

More that he just couldn’t bring himself to return it.

Sucking in a sharp breath, seriously considering grabbing for another crystal, he nodded sharply.

“Okay. Now what.” Because that was the thing; Jason had never wanted B to be sorry that he hadn’t come for Jason. That he finally hadn’t been on time to save him from himself.

He didn’t want the apology, he wanted things to change. To be better. For Bruce to accept that it had happened, and Jason was who he was now because he’d decided to be, not the pits or Tallia or the Joker.

He wanted so many things.

Bruce was searching his face, eyes sharp even as he consciously kept the rest of the expression open. Jason could see the tick of muscle in his cheek. Fuck, was it that hard for Bruce not to put on the act?

After a moment, he spread his hands. A gesture of peace? Not holding a weapon, not tensed for an attack?

“That’s all. For now. I just… wanted you to know. I’m sorry. And I’m…” the expression pulled a little, becoming pained, “I have been told I am overreacting to the news from Amity Park as well. I should trust your judgement. So I’m pulling myself from the case to focus on the Anti-Ecto Acts.”

This time Jason’s jaw just dropped. B… Bruce never. Never pulled himself from a case. Not for broken bones, ruptured organs, not even if he’d died.

It was almost worse than the rage; all of a sudden he was lost at sea, the one grounding, immovable rock in his life swept away. Part of him was even angry at that - at B suddenly deciding that now, this time he was going to be reasonable.

When all Jason expected from him was judgement, antagonism, stupid overbearing demands and being held at arm’s length, now all of a sudden the Bat was human.

It was too late to pretend the moment hadn’t happened, to completely hide his shock, but he also couldn’t stop the bluster from rising. Not the way his eyes narrowed suspiciously, even when every part of him that had been Robin desperately hoped this was real.

“And what the hell brought that on?” Not the accusation in his voice, although for once Bruce didn’t rise to it. He just chuckled dryly, like he’d been expecting Jason’s reaction.

“Because you were right.”

And now Jason was fully on edge again, scanning the man more closely for any signs of hypnotism, mind control, that this was a clone or a replacement. A trap or a trick. Because B… Bruce would never…

Bruce raised both hands quickly, possibly expecting Jason to just… jump him. Which, to be fair, would have been a more normal interaction.

“You were the one who brought the Amity Park situation to our attention. And you’re right, that I can’t expect your doctor or any other ghost to come here to help you until it is safe for them to do so,” he added quickly, and Jason rocked back onto his heels.

Of course, the caveat. That made sense, bitter in the back of his throat as it was. Just an inarguable set of facts.

Not like he’d ever actually admit that Jason’s judgement was reliable or anything. Folding his arms again (partly to stop his fists from clenching), he gave Bruce a sceptical look.

“Right, so what finally yanked your head out of your ass about it?” He asked sharply. Bruce gave him that same wry smile.

“Diana. And Harley. And Alfred. And Selena. I have been… extensively informed I had my head up my ass. So. I’m sorry for that too. I just wanted to tell you before I left, since I don’t know when we’ll see each other again.”

And it shouldn’t have been funny that he actually looked more pained talking about this, admitting a mistake, than he had when nursing broken ribs in the infirmary. Than he’d looked during any of their fights, than when Jason had all but grabbed his face and forced him to see that it really was him, that his dear little Robin came back wrong.

But dark humour was a refuge for all the bats, and if Jason didn’t laugh he had a horrible feeling he’d cry. All that tension, all those days he’d worried about what he’d say or do when they came face to face again… he’d never have imagined any of this.

Could imagine another bloody battle before imagining Bruce saying sorry.

All of a sudden he was just tired. Ha. Dead tired.

Nothing drained the life out of him like dealing with Bruce.

“Great. So where are you going?” It was almost a rhetorical question; he didn’t really expect an answer.

Should have, though. Obviously B had to stick his foot in it again.

“Amity Park. As Bruce Wayne, not Batman,” he added quickly when Jason’s head snapped up, glare sharpening, “it seems the logical place to begin work on the acts.”

And alright, Bruce didn’t sound defensive. He never did; just obstinate, which meant so many things that guessing when it meant what was a losing game.

Jason groaned loudly, raising both hands to scrub down across his face. Because of course all that weirdness hadn’t changed a damn thing. B was gonna B, creepy and intrusive and all.

“And look into Danny.” He said flatly, locking eyes with Bruce in time to see his expression twitch. Was he actually gonna lie?

Apparently not. Bruce sighed and nodded.

“My focus will be on establishing a connection between “Brucie” and the Anti-Ecto Acts, and investigating the GIW. Danny has been involved in both, and Zatanna has requested the elder Fentons provide me with protection,” he said like it was anything but a weak excuse.

Jason stared at him for a long moment, and then figured fuck it. Actually telling them before he left was technically still an improvement, and Danny and Jason were both well aware that there was gonna be some nosy bullshit.

He’d warned Danny this was gonna happen, and Danny had said it was fine. That he didn’t care about anything Batman might find… and knowing just how badly the Justice League had fucked up was going to eat the asshole alive. Which he could have avoided just by listening.

About to just walk away, Jason hesitated. There was actually one thing… technically not a necessary for a halfa, but fuck it. Might as well get B used to some ghostly etiquette early.

“Have you asked Danny?”

Bruce stilled, giving Jason a complicated look that mostly felt like judgement. Like Jason should know better than to ask.

“I was under the impression that removing the Anti-Ecto Acts is a priority?” He said stiffly, all awkward tension again.

Jason really did roll his eyes this time.

“Sure, but you’re going to his haunt. You text Superman before investigating in Metropolis.” Which technically hadn’t even been true when Jason was actually Robin, but B did text Clark before getting caught investigating in Metropolis. By anything but Kryptonian hearing.

The protocol basically only applied whenever another hero wanted to operate within Gotham because only Batman cared, but it was on the League’s books.

Bruce had picked up the wording though, because of course he had.

“His haunt?” He asked carefully, that tiny tick between his brows that meant he was processing starting up.

Jason rolled his eyes harder. For emphasis. Had JL Dark actually missed this part of the briefing? He was so not writing up Ghost Etiquette 101 for the league. No way.

But. It. Might be kinda cool. To have for himself. Especially since it was gonna be increasingly relevant.

“He’s a ghost hero, B. He died there, he protects the city. He’s like, the only one who’ll actually get your territorial crap, because in his case it’s part of his makeup.”

Actually, might be part of B’s too. Danny hadn’t said how liminal Bruce in particular was, but it really wouldn’t surprise Jason if claiming a haunt was part of it. Or if Lady Gotham had already picked out a spot for him.

That thought stung, so he dismissed it immediately and turned towards the kitchen. Hell with the brownies he’d been planning, he was gonna need something much more complicated to keep his mind off the latest wave of bullshit.

Alfred liked soufflés. Jason could activate the house defences to keep the little gremlins out until they were done.

“Just fucking text him, B. Entering a ghost’s haunt without permission is declaring intent to throw down, and that’s a fight none of us need.” No matter how much he might like to watch B go up against the ridiculous power-set Danny was packing.

Sure, the Bat went toe to toe with the gods, but that was with plans, tech, and often, backup. Apparently he still didn’t know shit about ghosts, so it’d be fun to watch him try and adapt on the fly… especially when even Danny wasn’t sure how many actual powers were on the table.

**

Bruce hesitated for a long moment, looking at Jason’s retreating back.

That had gone… frankly he did not trust his own read on Jason enough to tell. Neither of them had yelled. He’d said what he was prepared to; he was still working on the appropriate format for the rest.

Jason… hadn’t reacted. Not with anger, which was a blessed relief, but not with anything else either. Except disbelief. Exasperation. Shock.

Not really any aggression, though. That had to be a decided improvement. And while part of Bruce suspected he’d been told to inform Danny so the boy could hide anything unsavoury….

He’d known that was likely to happen when he told Jason his plans. Jason would tell Danny; his allegiances there were firmly (and worryingly quickly) established.

Telling Danny himself… there was a chance that Jason had been serious about it being a matter of protocol. A formal request, for contact with an inter-dimensional entity.

Despite that entity being present and active in Bruce’s own city without so much as a nod to the Bat. But then, Batman was not a ghost, despite what the goons liked to suppose.

Firmly marshalling his own suspicions, Bruce pulled out his phone to message the youngest Fenton.

Stopped.

Bruce Wayne didn’t have the boy’s number. But Danny knew at least Nightwing’s identity; it was possible he knew them all.

He was going to Amity Park as Brucie Wayne, not Batman. But Brucie Wayne had no way to get the correct phone number. Unexpected contact from Batman was… well, expected, to an extent.

And his investigations would be handled and presented as Batman. Surely no one would challenge Brucie Wayne to a fight?

Mind made up, Bruce took his vigilante phone out and did a quick scan through his childrens’ updated contact lists. Most of them seemed to have been enjoying the company of the Amity Parkers; it wouldn’t be hard to get Danny’s contact information.

**

So. New year, new problems. Danny used to say it as a joke, but this year it was looking pretty darn literal.

Last year, for example, he hadn’t had to worry about his parents finding out about his supposed “love life” from a magazine (that Jazz must have sent them after they’d gone back to Amity Park, the traitor), and calling to hound him for details.

He’d managed to talk them out of driving the GAV straight to Gotham to threaten Jason into “treating him right”… which Jason thought was funny solely because he still didn’t actually know how large Jack Fenton was, nor how intense Maddie could be.

He still thought of them as civilians, and maybe a little less than competent, thanks to the database and their zero capture record.

Maybe Danny was cultivating that ignorance specifically so he could watch the moment of truth in person. Sue him, it was funny.

Unfortunately, since the magazine had also included that the gala they’d been “hooking up” at had been to celebrate Jason’s return from the dead, his mom had reached the halfa conclusion on her own. Danny had wanted to let Jason decide when to tell her, but that very first phone call the first words out of her mouth had been “Daniel James Fenton, have you met another halfa without telling us?”

And Danny had been so taken aback by them actually noticing anything (it was to do with ghosts, of course they’d noticed, he’d kicked himself for days after) that she’d taken his speechlessness as confirmation.

So.

They had that out of the way before they even said hi.

Despite Danny’s firm assurances that he and Jason weren’t actually dating, the papers were making the whole thing up (the photos hadn’t helped, but his dad seemed to buy that he’d been. Trying to help Jason fix his shirt. After the rogue attack, y’know), his parents had insisted on another call with Jason.

And Jazz. Because he had to introduce his sister to his new boyfriend too.

Jason had… taken it well? Hadn’t gotten much of a word in edgewise, around Jack Fenton’s boisterous laughter and insistence that he come around some time soon. He’d agreed with Danny that they definitely were not dating, which.

They weren’t.

They just weren’t.

They were just. Friends. Who hung out after classes in the evening. And texted all day. And told each other their deepest darkest soul secrets in like, a week after they’d met.

Danny’s mom had seemed a little more convinced by the end of the call, but still insisted Jason should come down to Amity Park anyway, to get to know the family.

Danny was still in denial about it being even a little bit helpful, but Jason had decided to drop the Fright Knight bomb right away. It was the actual real reason they were so close now, so it made sense as an explanation that wasn’t them being partners or whatever.

(Danny still hated it. Resented he couldn’t be trusted to just… have a friend. It always had to be something stupid and dramatic.

And he was totally offended by how immediately relieved his mom had been that he’d have someone “looking after him”. Like he wasn’t a whole ass adult for years already, and the king of a realm for longer than that.)

And now he was gonna have to call them back, and probably get a message to Fright Knight, because Danny’s newest problem was that Batman now had his phone number.

And was asking his permission to go to Amity Park to deal with the Anti-Ecto Acts.

(“Brucie Wayne” was officially the one going for the Acts, the message only said that Batman would be escorting the billionaire and gathering evidence separately, but Danny wasn’t fucking buying it.

And since Batman had his phone number and had used it, Tucker could technically get into Batman’s phone and prove it. Like Constantine showing up at Wayne Manor left a shadow of a doubt.

But noooo, Danny knew all about dramatics and billionaires and their sketchy underground labs. He could play along.)

Which, technically, might wind up solving one of his biggest problems.

It was also gonna completely ruin all the work he and Jason had done persuading the Fentons they weren’t dating; he could already hear his dad booming delightedly about meeting future in-laws. Because why else would Jason’s dad go to visit?

Not like there were actual laws on the books declaring Danny as a mandatory extermination target. Or like the Justice League might finally have gotten their thumbs out of their asses and want to check in.

Clearly Danny’s love life was the only thing that mattered.

At least he wouldn’t have to worry about that crap from Frighty; all the ghosts were gonna know all about Danny and Jason’s soul resonance (be still his beating fucking heart that was still ridiculous). He would have to let him know a superhero was gonna be in town though.

Actual ghosts weren’t likely to mistake Batman for one of their own and these days most of Danny’s rogue gallery was cool about not picking fights with humans without Fenton tech, but Danny figured better safe than sorry.

And.

Maybe.

Really wanted to see Batman and Fright Knight hang out. They were gonna totally love or totally hate each other, and either way he was a little sorry he was gonna miss it.

Unless he gave in and took time off class, kidnapped Jason from whatever work he did, and made the trip home… because he’d been direly warned that if he did show up without Jason, Jack Fenton would drive him back to Gotham personally. So, no. Nope. Not happening.

The long and the short of it was that instead of being blissfully free of his parents nagging him to visit until the summer, he was now fielding calls and texts demanding he come back home for March Break, at the latest. And bring Jason.

Mom wanted to “assess him”, which was fucking terrifying and the more Jason didn’t take it seriously the more Danny was tempted to actually make the trip. It would at least come with a defined end date. And force Jazz to take a break if she wanted to come too.

She at least had been less insistent on calling him every single day to bug him about it; probably because she was busy frying herself to death at university. She’d apologized for missing the group chat too, and the first family phone call, but it wasn’t a huge surprise.

Jazz had had the helicopter parent firmly knocked out of her by double majors, which Danny used to think was a good thing. Now he considered it might actually be a sign she was… not cracking under the pressure? But not taking care of herself.

Hopefully it wouldn’t return full force once she got some actual sleep and decent food in her.

Honestly, Danny wasn’t unaware that this was the most normal his problems had ever been. Just a few years ago he’d have done anything but wish to Desiree that his biggest problem would be “my parents think I’m dating one of my friends”.

Right now it was looking pretty good too, actually. Because at this precise second, Danny’s biggest problem was that he was running out of excuses not to talk to Nocturn.

***

Tim was beginning to think he had a bit of a crush on Tucker Foley. It was a surprise to him as much as anyone else; normally the kind of fawning adoration that tech geeks usually followed him with was an instant turn off. There was just… no point getting close to people who saw him as an idea, not a person.

And, frankly? The mere existence of Timblr probably would have been a red flag for anyone else. Sure, Tucker had closed it down, but it still existed - and Tucker Foley could have taken care of that easily.

The thing was… even under the hero worship he’d caught in Tucker’s eyes when they were first introduced… well, Tucker wasn’t exactly respectful to his heroes. That did tend to follow along with a friend in a teen hero career; everyone else was instantly less cool by association.

Tucker just plain wasn’t a good fanboy. He hung on Tim’s every word, right up until they started talking tech - the subject he most admired Tim for. Didn’t admire him enough not to cut him off half way through an explanation, call an idea “archaic”, or ask if Tim was serious.

(And okay, once or twice he hadn’t been; just testing his technical chops.)

The thing was, Tucker wasn’t only a genius with regular technology, he was a prodigy in an entirely new field of software and occult collusion, and he knew it. He was delighted to upgrade Tim’s systems (although Danny would still need to do the full ecto-infusions; Tucker could interface, but didn’t produce his own ectoplasm), and more than happy to point out everywhere they needed improving.

Tim genuinely respected his opinion, which wasn’t a distinction he gave to many people who’d never worn a cape; he’d already cc’d the other, Lucius Fox, into his and Tucker’s email chains. (Lucius was very enthusiastic about the oncoming apprenticeship - for him.)

And Tucker was funny, allergic to personal privacy, and… well, Tim was pretty sure he’d felt those first twinges when, as promised, he tagged Tucker in to help interrogate the Riddler.

Digitally, obviously. With Tucker’s classes starting back up and the New Years hangovers finally clearing the board, the next time they saw each other in person might be upsettingly far out. But Tucker had cheerfully hacked his way into Gotham PD’s systems and made himself comfortable while Red Robin and Batwoman waited for Riddler to be brought in.

Tim had so few pure pleasures in his life, but watching Kate try to keep a straight face when the interrogation room’s speakers began blasting what was essentially a stripper theme perfect for Eddie Nygma the second the door closed?

Riddler had been utterly baffled as well, talking over the beginning until they reached the chorus, where the singer practically spelled out his name. His stunned silence had given way to a burst of offended protest that was entirely undercut by the way his fingers kept time.

As the teen hero in the room, Red Robin was allowed to snicker at him, but Batwoman had to pretend to be an adult about it.

And when the first song ended, silence had fallen for what must have been a perfectly calculated fifteen seconds, and then the Jeopardy theme began playing.

Of course, soundtracking hadn’t been Tucker’s only contribution to the interrogation, just Tim’s favourite. Red Robin had the tablet from the gala back from evidence, from which Tucker had cheerfully admitted in Matrix style scrolling green text that he’d been the one back-hacking Nygma’s files… and locking him out of them.

And replacing every single link Nygma had clicked from the night of the gala to the day Batwoman hauled him in to a random page from Riddles.com, which Riddler had declared a new vendetta against every time anyone would listen. It was beautiful.

Robins were professionally annoying, it was part natural talent on all of their parts (except Damian) and part intensive training on how to disrupt thought patterns and push people into mistakes. Tucker could have led the class, and Tim had been overtaken by a powerful urge to kiss the smug grin he could feel through Tucker’s text straight off his face.

Of course, Tim had a boyfriend. And had been overtaken more than once by similar urges for almost every one of his friends, when they did something brilliant.

Steph called it oral fixation, Tim preferred positive reinforcement. Conner found the whole thing extremely funny, especially since Tucker still stumbled over his words if Conner was so much as looking at him.

Which made all of his siblings trying to tease him about Tucker’s “crush” on Tim look ridiculous, by the way. Tucker Foley was not a subtle man; he couldn’t even string a sentence together around someone he actually liked.

He could string plenty of sentences together around Tim, the two of them could finish each others’ half the time.

(He wasn’t upset about Tucker’s obvious interest in Conner either; Tim knew damn well his boyfriend was an incredible catch and he was lucky to have him. Tucker’s crush was just… peer review.)

Already he was counting down the days until March Break, when Tucker was going to visit in person again. Honestly, he might push to get a zeta put in nearer to MIT in the meantime.

It wasn’t like the institute was never targeted by supervillains, it would just be practical.

But Tim himself couldn’t suggest that now, because then all of his siblings would jump on the Tucker thing and he’d never hear the end of it. It was a dilemma… because even if Conner or Danny could just go and pick him up again, zeta was just faster.

It had nothing to do with missing time that Conner and Tucker were bonding, or being a puppy waiting for his master to come home, whatever Steph said.

(And honestly, Tucker Foley? Not exactly commanding “master” material. Until he was talking about his area of expertise. Then he was certain and confident and got this really attractive gleam in his eye…)

The quickest solution would be getting all of Team Phantom officially involved in the Justice League, of course. Then he wouldn’t even need to suggest it; close zeta access was vital for all of the heroes.

But Team Phantom couldn’t join the League until Phantom’s existence was no longer illegal. So they had to dismantle the Anti Ecto Acts. Bruce was investigating the GIW, and planning what he probably thought was a secret trip to Amity Park, but none of it was happening fast enough for Tim… because it probably wouldn’t be done by March Break. In two months.

He’d broken more than just the American government in two months; all it took was the right leverage. And a complete lack of self restraint.

So, y’know, Tim had a new side project in and around his other Gotham cases. All he needed was a house and then senate majority, and they could get those laws repealed the second the government came back from break.

Lois Lane was already working on the story, Clark would probably join Bruce in Amity Park (whether he knew Bruce was there or not) for interviews. There was only so much public pressure could do though, and that never worked fast enough either.

Not compared to Tim’s preferred methods. He liked the personal touch.

****

Fun fact, slower core formation? Had not meant slower ghost powers. Not in Jason’s case, anyway; not even a week after his core came in, a coffee cup had slipped straight through his hand and shattered on the floor.

He’d stopped handling Alfred’s good china that day, mindful of Danny’s many horror stories about the school lab’s glassware. Alfred hadn’t actually questioned it, although he’d gotten a couple of raised eyebrows when he slid a junk mug toward the kettle.

It was just a good thing he’d already cut down patrolling; he’d been planning to take a step back anyway for a while. Just until he got the balance right between being Red Hood and the newly resurrected Jason Todd.

He’d had to stop entirely, at least until he got the intangibility under control. Sure, becoming temporarily impervious to weapons would be convenient when he got to choose when it switched off or on. Phasing various limbs half way through solid surfaces and getting stuck though?

No.

Not a chance in Hell. That was not an acceptable risk.

Invisibility had started not long after, which had definitely complicated his trips to the manor; all the bats were good, but vanishing completely out of the blue? That would raise comment.

The good news was that the glacierfrost seemed to be helping there too; either because of the ecto in the ice, or just keeping his emotions regulated, which kept the powers from acting up. Jason wasn’t taking unnecessary risks, but he’d noticed that for at least a couple hours after a hit, he was in more control.

Intentionally turning the powers on was still a struggle, but apparently that’d just get better with time. And probably fighting - that was the common denominator under all his ghost problems.

Ghost Fight Club was officially starting the second he’d got the transformation down, but how exactly they were going to try and trigger that in a controlled environment was still… less clear than Jason would like.

They’d have to work it out soon though; the only other ability that was likely to kick in before he could transform was flight, according to Danny. Time was a-tickin’.

And… alright. It wasn’t like Jason was sat at home every night; that was what he and Danny were doing after school now that they’d cut back to at least a couple days a week. A little practice on budding ghost powers, with backup.

“Surveying his haunt” was what Danny called it, but it basically meant Danny going ghost and Jason putting on a domino he claimed he borrowed from Dick, and the two of them bouncing around the Alley. And occasionally Danny pushing him off roofs to see if flight had kicked in yet.

(It hadn’t, but he still had his grapples, and refused to let Danny rescue him from his own bullshit.)

Sensing the city’s natural ecto had gotten much easier with his core fully developed, and Danny was teaching him how to mark it with his own. Pitty’s ongoing corruption was fucking it up though; it was still producing corrupted ectoplasm, and actually more of it now that they were both whole.

(Jason had started sleeping with Frostbite’s ghost succulent next to his pillow. That was how he’d noticed the new blue glow, which he still meant to ask about. It was still firm and strong, and it… didn’t feel sick?)

Corrupted ecto reeked so strongly of that corruption that it was completely useless for anything else, apparently. So until they finally finished purging Pitty, what all their little adventures actually amounted to was tagging.

Danny made them special ecto-spray-paint, and they spent the nights finding weirder and weirder corners to spray a little mark onto. Jason would have liked to use something to do with Red Hood, for the symmetry, but. Well. He hadn’t worked out how to have that conversation yet.

He’d been making do with little ghost doodles. It had been years since he’d done any real graffiti art, but it was like riding a bike, and the ecto sprayed really well. A cartoon ghost wasn’t all that hard anyway; an elongated little blob, occasionally with little fangs or unattached clawed hands.

He’d been going for something like an Among Us bean, but Danny had declared that he was drawing Pitty, and well… it stuck. Doodling little Pit ghosts was the order of the day, ranging from cute little Pittys (modelling good behaviour, Danny called it) or vicious little bastards, depending on how both Jason and Pitty had been that day.

Because that was definitely one piece of good news, in with all the bullshit new ghost powers was causing. Before he’d felt surges of rage, the moments where the Pit was reaching out and trying to affect him. Universally bad, aggressive, and violent, pre-Danny.

He could kinda feel it all the time now, like a heated scarf draped over his body, or the constant breathing of a dog just behind his ear. It was quiet mostly, and he was beginning to suspect it had cost more energy than he’d ever expected for it to reach out to him at all.

For all that he’d worried about it being too much like raising a kid, it… well, the nice way to say it was probably that it wasn’t that bright. It could talk to him in ghostspeak, kind of; most of what he actually heard felt like emotional reactions, closer to speaking through auras than words despite how much it’d felt like it was crawling up his throat.

The Pit could handle basic concepts, recognised Danny’s name, but other than that? It mostly seemed to follow Jason’s emotional lead… and then dial it up to eleven. Which, yeah, was exactly what he’d been scared of when he thought it might be like, a whole ass person. Toddlers were terrifying little sponges.

Jason’s experience of kids wasn’t exactly what he’d call normal, sure, but Pitty was reminding him less of a kid and more and more of some kind of small and bitey animal.

Which, y’know, was a relief. Sort of. It wasn’t like he could fuck up an animal in the same way as he could a kid. Nowhere near the same level of responsibility.

Just. When he thought about the pit rage, the idea of it being attached to something which literally had fangs and claws was not exactly reassuring. Even at the size of a chihuahua.

A little impromptu art therapy while they marked his haunt wasn’t exactly helping with that part, but it wasn’t hurting. And he was trying to explain that feeling bad was not actually dangerous or harmful… via spray paint.

He was only about 70% sure that Pitty could see.

But it got him out and about, kept him in shape at least for swinging from roof tops, and gave him an excuse to hang out with Danny. It did involve actively avoiding anything he’d normally investigate (at least until he had a reasonable explanation… or brought up the Red Hood thing)… but it felt good. It was soothing.

Even knowing full well he’d made plans, prepared extensively, still had his guys making sure the Alley was safe and all was well, he still found himself itching to patrol on the nights he stayed in.

He could only assume that was part of the whole Haunt thing; he had good people working under him, and a couple of bright lieutenants that while he’d never let them wear the hood, he was comfortable giving them some solo enforcement missions to keep the fear of Red Hood in everyone’s hearts. All relevant parties, anyway.

Luckily he still had the library project as a convenient excuse for the bats. It kept them off his ass, and Jason could admit that it probably wouldn’t have taken much to persuade him to take a night run.

And get his ass stuck half way through some fucking wall somewhere, or lose a foot to a rooftop, and need to break himself free or call Danny in the fucking suit. Nope.

(He’d been tempted to let his family think he was saving his nights for Danny, which wasn’t even completely untrue; Danny wasn’t over every night anymore, not with his school schedule, but if he wasn’t over they texted.

Jason had begun saving a meme folder just for things to show Danny, which had quickly absorbed his full folder for death jokes and just kept going. Danny was going to be a very supportive “father” for their fake pit-kid, and had clearly been stockpiling dad jokes to send back.)

Honestly though, Jason was just relieved he’d already planned to slow the vigilante side for a while in the wake of his official revival; there was a lot that had to be done to come back from the dead, and a lot more he could do with official Wayne backing for areas of Crime Alley that Hood couldn’t touch.

He’d even let some of the bats in on those plans before Danny showed up; it wasn’t a surprise that he wasn’t patrolling. They were mostly leaving him alone about it, although Dick had offered to pop his Red Hood gear on and run a couple of patrols if things got too rowdy.

Jason had told him to fuck off, then got his street kids spreading the rumour that Hood was gearing up for something big. Let people think that the momentary quiet was just the first rumbles for an oncoming storm.

Hell, let them think Hood was in cahoots with Jason Todd-Wayne; that or preparing to run him out of the Alley. Let both of his lives work together for a while. The rumours shut half the fucking low-level dealers up; no one was pushing anything within three blocks of his territory, in case Hood was planning an expansion.

That’d boil over after a while and bite him in the ass if he didn’t go and kick something down, but for now it worked. He had so much to do for the library, for the new shelters from the Wayne foundation, for the soup kitchens. He actually was pretty busy, even on his nights in.

Fuck, he’d even taken time to hang out with the actual Alley kids, as Jason and Hood. The mouthy little shits kept him grounded, and maybe he’d tried it as a trial run for Pitty, but since that wasn’t gonna be the same problem he’d kept it up as a test of his own patience.

Which had. Very abruptly. Become the cause of one of his biggest concerns. Because the biggest change since his core came in had actually taken him a couple more days to notice.

Because now, Jason could see the fingerprints of the new entity.

That hadn’t been fun to work out; he’d been intentionally taking it slow until his core formed. Part of him had been sorta hoping to be able to just avoid anything that might set them both off until the Pit was ready to pop out on its own. Nothing related to the new case he couldn’t start, nothing related to the Joker or pits or any of that shit.

So when some of the kids had been showing up with some weird shadowy smudge on their clothes, he’d assumed it was the usual Gotham grime. They claimed not to see it, he threw them at the laundry room and cussed them out, it always came off.

Now the Curse, the Curse was staying out of Crime Alley entirely. He’d seen it during the day once or twice, a shadow attached where it shouldn’t be, a flicker over Damian or Tim’s shoulder. He always knew when the Curse was around now, a frosty fog filled his lungs whenever it was close.

(Danny had called it his “ghost sense”, which was lame but Jason didn’t have a better idea.)

And those smudges didn’t have the same kind of ozone-aftertaste that the Curse left in his mouth.

And then one of his girls, maybe seven years old, had come in with that same kind of smeared shadow sticking through soft black hair. He’d had some sharp fucking words with the older kids about that, he didn’t expect them to stay pristine at all times, but for fucks sake it was clumping.

Basic hygiene fucking mattered on the street, none of them could afford a proper de-matting or even a decent razor to shave their heads, so Jason had instilled the importance of bare-minimum finger combing in every one of them years ago. You could live with a fucking rug dragging at your skull, but it made absolutely everything harder.

He’d sat the girl on a stool and washed her hair in a bucket himself, while repeating the same fucking lecture to the other girls. Noticed half way through that while the sticky shit was indeed washing out of her hair, it wasn’t being broken down by the soap.

It was clinging to him instead, seeping into the creases of his fingers and under his nails. He’d tried not to visibly react, giving her a last rinse and wrapping her hair in a towel-hat that she didn’t stop touching for the next forty minutes, fucking it up a dozen times.

The smudgy crap had washed off his hands eventually, but when he saw Danny the next day he’d visibly backed up a few steps, then given Jason about six shots of ecto because his was apparently rancid again. No prizes for spotting the connection, and from there it was obvious.

And then he’d seen Harley the next day, that same smudgy crap a handprint around her fucking throat, and he’d seen red. Hot, angry, blood red, and it not being green had startled the life out of him.

(Harley noticed. Duh. It was her thing. And while Jason couldn’t just tell her some malevolent fucking entity made from her shitty ex was crawling through the city, he’d been as honest as he could be.

Harley definitely couldn’t see the smudges. Danny hadn’t had any answers or way to make it stop fucking touching people.)

Hypothetically, this was all gonna be good in the end. It’d make things easier, being able to see and track this shitstain’s work.

It did not feature in his “don’t get pissed off or think about work” plan.

It was just faintly possible that obsession, self flagellation, and a desire to be personally responsible for fucking everything might be more than just Bruce’s problem. Could maybe be a family affair.

Jason made more pies. Occasionally narrating what he was doing aloud, half for Pitty’s benefit and half for Danny’s when the little shit was crashing on his couch.

It was fine. He was coping. Another couple weeks, Danny reckoned, and Pitty would be out of his body and he could get back to his fucking life.

With a pet Pit ghost in tow, apparently, but if the worst came to the worst he could fucking soup the thing once it was outside him.

(He was also going to teach Danny to make soup. Proper soup. On principle.)

**

Preparing for his trip to Amity Park had taken longer than Bruce had expected. Not least because Alfred had finally run out of patience, and sentenced him to bedrest for the next 12 hours after he returned from the Justice League meeting lest he unlock the tranquilizer guns and give his children free reign.

In the old days, when he’d just become Batman, Bruce had assumed Alfred would never be able to catch him anyway. He’d been cocky and confident in his skills, and often ignored Alfred’s demands.

And yet the man always seemed to know, raising a disapproving eyebrow at Bruce every time he’d slipped back into the room just before Alfred made his rounds.

And then Steph came into his life, and Bruce learned all too fast that Alfred had merely been waiting for appropriate safeguards. That was three kids along of course, but by now Bruce knew exactly why it had been Steph Alfred had waited for.

His relationship with Dick was too tumultuous. While Dick never feared Bruce and was perfectly happy to join Alfred in nagging and bossing him around, by the time Dick moved out Bruce had half expected to only see his son at Justice League meetings, if at all.

They were different men, and Dick had always had an anger in him that Bruce couldn’t fathom. He’d mastered it, his control very rarely slipping, but… Bruce had trained Dick himself, and he was one of a very short list of people that Bruce had no concrete backup plan for.

Nothing but hope to make him cocky with the first attack, and pray the second caught him off guard.

His relationship with Dick hadn’t improved until Tim came into his life… and helped him get his head out of his ass.

Jason? Jason had been an angel. A scruffy, beaten down angel with badly bruised wings when Bruce first picked him up, but he’d flourished in Wayne Manor. He’d taken to Robin with joy and enthusiasm, but had more devotion to his studies than any of Bruce’s kids before or since.

He’d even stay in to study for tests, and if things had been different… perhaps he’d have been the one to break Bruce’s obsession with his night life.

But Bruce had begun taking that good heart for granted, pushed when he should have listened, and sent Jason to his death.

Tim had a hard enough time keeping Bruce from killing himself, along with anyone who stood in the way of his mission. He was a solemn, serious little boy from the start, and though Dick took a more active role this time around and declared himself a big brother (possibly to spite Bruce)… well.

It had to be Steph.

Steph, who would vehemently deny being one of his from whoa to go, was just like all of his children; a feral little gremlin. But Steph had that one more element too, the one which young Dick had had in spades but pulled back from with Bruce years before.

Steph liked to have fun.

Tim treated Bruce as a mission just as much as Gotham was Bruce’s, and Dick had never forgiven him for Jason. Or the fights that went before. Neither could pick up a Nerf gun and hunt him through the city in pure play in those days.

Until Steph gave them the guns, of course. Now any and every one of his children would happily take a tranq gun from Alfred and merrily stalk him through the manor and city at large, and even to the Watchtower if he tempted fate (and Tim).

Bruce was powerless against them, although pride warred with frustration every single time one of them managed to drug him to sleep. He’d trained them well. Well enough that they’d put what was right over what he wanted, that none of them were even a little afraid of him.

He’d planted the seeds of his own destruction.

So when he’d seen Duke and Dick hanging “casually” around the halls while Alfred escorted him to bed, he’d resigned himself to twelve hours of rest.

He’d slept for sixteen. And woke feeling much better, to his own chagrin. His head felt clearer, the migraine almost gone, and the sudden swoops of nausea had finally begun to pass.

He still had odd moments, especially when he’d been on the computer planning the trip to Amity Park for too long, but he’d reluctantly agreed with Alfred. He needed to fully recover from his concussion; that meant rest. And taking days and weeks instead of hours.

Amity Park would still be there, after all. He couldn’t get back the years they’d been late. He’d had to concede another two weeks.

Zatanna had also demanded an explanation for why he was suddenly interested in the town - luckily the Anti-Ecto Acts provided a sufficient cover. They were even most of the reason he was going.

She could also see the gravity of the situation, and offered to put him in touch with some local specialists who claimed to have tech that would keep him from being possessed. Specialists named “Fenton”. Because of course they were.

She’d offered him a ward as well, but mostly in jest. She knew how Bruce felt about magic, and had told him science was on the table almost immediately.

Bruce knew full well it wasn’t a coincidence. Formerly regarded as quacks, the Fentons had been featured prominently in all of their Amity Park news sources. Usually as menaces and a hazard to society, which aligned with what the Mansons had told him.

Still, their actions had nothing to do with the character of their son. Danny Phantom had been Amity Park’s protector for six years, although he’d not had many serious ghosts to fight for the last three.

As Foley had claimed, the ghosts seemed to have settled into a status of local nuisance that was oddly aligned with the Fentons senior; loud, intrusive, and often an inconvenience to your day, but not the threats to life, limb, or infrastructure that had characterised the first years after the portal opened.

Amity Park’s general consensus seemed to be that Danny Phantom had tamed the ghosts, won over the Fentons, and quite efficiently saved the day. He hadn’t been sighted there much in the past year, but that was because he’d been in Gotham.

In school. Finally being able to study and look towards his future.

His main heroic endeavours in the last three years of his career had involved the same GIW, the Ghost Investigation Ward that Foley had told Tim about. They unfortunately had not followed the general trend of de-escalation… although they had been rather subdued in the last year.

It felt different to Bruce, though. Incidents were less frequent, but those occurrences where they did find a ghost had become markedly more violent. The decreased frequency seemed to have lulled the townsfolk into believing they were also less of a threat, but the problem with pushing your enemies into a corner was how much more dangerous a cornered animal became.

There was something worrying happening with the GIW, that would have borne looking into even if he wasn’t also looking to understand Danny better. Preparing everything he’d need for the official investigation was most of what had slowed him down.

Of course, he was going to Amity Park as Brucie Wayne, not as Batman. Vlad Masters’ friendship was going to help him there; the man had been delighted to invite him down for the weekend when Bruce had reached out.

A little faked enthusiasm for football and interest in Vlad’s favourite team and he was a seemingly completely open book. He was more than happy to give Brucie the grand tour of his little town, and even promised a personal escort from the airport.

Bruce was beginning to suspect that getting away from the man might be more of a challenge, although he was another potentially useful source of information on the Amity Park situation.

Not that Masters was a particularly high priority source. But Bruce could admit he may have been hasty to dismiss his views on Danny as being biased, and as mayor he should know something about the GIW operations in his city… and given how many contracts with the agency could be traced back to his companies in the early days of the agency’s formations, he would be a much more serious subject for investigation than a source.

The good news was, everything was now in place. He had Danny’s permission and would be flying down to Amity Park in a matter of hours, and had already bought out the entire top floor of a local hotel, so he should have plenty of privacy to operate from.

With any luck, being able to set things in motion to repeal the Anti-Ecto Acts could also be a first step towards patching things up with Jason… and with Danny. No matter what conclusions Bruce came to in Amity Park, the Justice League owed Danny Phantom a serious apology, and the Infinite Realms some swift action.

Their negligence could have sparked an inter-dimensional war, and nearly had cost a young man his future. Bruce was self aware enough to admit that the guilt of that knowledge was a major factor in why he hadn’t spoken to Danny face to face again.

Yet.

At least Danny had given him permission to visit and explore his haunt. That had to count for something.

He was going to apologize. Probably after giving Jason the proper apology his son so richly deserved. Perhaps Jason would even be willing to help him work out how to properly apologize to Danny too; Bruce wasn’t good at apologies at the very best of times, but Harley had made it explicitly clear that he was going to be getting in a lot of practice.

**

Now, ya can call Harley Quinn a lot of things (and people definitely have), but one thing she ain’t despite the goofball act? Stupid.

Somethin’ was up in Gotham, somethin’ one heck of a lot weirder than all the weird shit that had marked her time in the city.

Oh, she’d gone an’ had another word with Brucie after Waylon told her how Jason’d had to leave through the roof after his talk with Constantine.

(She’d hunt Johnny-boy down later too, probably just after he decided she wasn’t gonna come for ‘im and stopped hiding, but odds on? Brucie’s fault, and Connie was just his unfortunate messenger.)

The thing was, he’d decided to sicc Johnny on poor Jason before they’d had their little talk, so by the time she caught him again he was already all downcast and shamefaced. Already admitting he done fucked up.

And it just wasn’t satisfyin’ to kick him while he was down, an’ while he was already tryin’. He’d even decided on his own to leave both boys alone for now, to let things cool down before tryin’ again.

Now, Mama Quinzel didn’t raise no dummy, she could see a million ways ol’ Brucie’s plan to go and try an’ fix Amity Park for Danny was gonna go wrong. But she wasn’t an expert at this ghost business, so she didn’t pretend to be.

She did exactly what she’d told Brucie to do; consulted an actual expert.

She asked Sammy and Jazzy, Danny’s big sis who was just a real darlin’, in their group chat (which had been popping off since Sammy was a lil sweetheart and set it up for ‘em; Jazzy-boo was of doin’ all kinds of neurological shit but she’d read some psych textbooks in her day, and Harley loved watching a self taught student grow). An’ then she hunted down Jason and Danny, to ask ‘em directly.

Which had been when she’d got her first clue that somethin’ was up; when Jason looked at her like she was still wearin’ a certain other clown’s paint, all stiff and locked up and full of anger.

See, that’d happened before. When they first met, him fresh outta the grave, her fresh outta Hell. When he’d asked if she and Joker were really through, an’ she’d told him hell yeah.

When he’d asked if she’d get in his way of killing the asshole.

That anger, all tight an’ tense an’ burstin’ had been wrapped around his throat then, chokin’ him on it. It was cooler now, more human, more like somethin’ the sweet lil sunshine child who could melt her heart with his tears could feel.

It still wasn’t, ya’know, in the vague vicinity of healthy, but she’d seen Jason Todd about to lose his shit before. An’ his hands shook when he touched her, when he asked what the hell she’d done to her neck.

Harley’d taken a good long look in several bathroom mirrors since. There was nothin’ she could see there, but Harley Quinn had been a short term guest in more than one Hell. There was plenty of shit she was all too happy not ta see.

Then there was ol’ Harvey. She’d run him down faster’n the bats, because she wasn’t also chasin’ Riddler, Great White Shark, at least three new plots from ol’ Pengy, or a suspiciously quiet and freshly escaped Scarecrow.

Two-Face had been all quiet an’ polite since his heist on the young Mr Todd’s party went tits up, so he’d flown under their radar.

Not hers.

Harley always made time for her old friends.

And Harvey had been weird too. Twitchy, on edge, jumpin’ at shadows. That happened if he thought the ol’ Bat was after ‘im, but he’d had no reason to think that. An’ for all he’d flipped his little coin and played up the bit, Harley knew when her friends were off.

Something had put Harvey on edge. Stuffed a bee up his ass and made him all snappy.

He’d even tried to pull a gun! On her! His sweet, darlin’, perfectly loveable and innocent Harleen!

So, ya’know, when she’d touched ground again an’ he’d run outta bullets, she’d knocked it outta his hands before he could reload and reminded him there were more than just Bats to fear. There was also her bat.

An’ by the time they were both all tired out and slumped against each other to order smoothies, he’d admitted he didn’t know why he’d decided to go fer young Jason. To attack their buddy Brucie’s boy.

Now, Harley wasn’t sure Harvey knew silly ol’ Brucie was the Big Bad Bat. She suspected he did, somewhere, in the part of him he hid from all the unpleasantness.

If he knew, he was repressin’ it real deep.

But he’d seen word of the gala, an’ something inside him went dark, and he’d flipped a coin. Got all sorts of plastic explosive of all things ready to really give Gotham a show they wouldn’t forget.

An’ then when it was time to roll out, nunna his cars’d start. An’ he’d flipped the coin again. And stayed home.

She snagged the detonators on his explosives on the way out, on principle. There were some rules after all, and while the Bats could certainly handle anythin’ ol’ Harvey could build, he shouldn’a shot at her.

Harley Quinn was officially out of the rogue game, but that had nothin’ ta do with shit disturbing. She was beginning to wonder though.

Somethin’ was weird in Gotham, a kinda energy in the streets that wasn’t the same black stubbornness she’d known and loved. Somethin’ that felt a little nastier. A little closer to biting.

Now, Harley Quinn was a lotta things. She also wasn’t a lotta the things everyone else thought she was.

She was no quitter. She was no fool. She was no coward to turn tail from some nasty vibes. She might still be a teensy weensy bit mentally disturbed, as you say, but she had her shit together.

An’ she knew when somethin’ else was tryin’ ta play with her head.

Much as she loved Gotham like a second home, she was beginnin’ ta wonder if she shouldn’t head back to Pammy an’ let their mystery of who was givin’ Coney Island a hard time sit with the Bats.

——————

The song Tucker’s playing for Tim and Nygma is here:

Tag List - @welcometosasakiworld @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence e @skitscratched @blackroserelina a @snoodly-boop @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin n @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 7 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson n @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this s @tkiesai @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook @adorkable1291

IMPORTANT NOTE! Since about half the tag list no longer links to a blog, I will probably be retiring it for chapter 20, so either comment and let me know you still wanna be on it, or proceed on over to AO3 for alerts!

Part two:

[snek-panini]

Book time! I want to post all my new stuff but don't want to flood people with them, so I waited a bit after my last one to put this one up, but I can't wait any longer to show it off. This is The Rose and the Serpent, a Good Omens Beauty and the Beast AU by Atalan. I know there's some kind of fairy tale fic event going on in the fandom right now but this one is from a few years back, so if that's your thing and you're impatient go check this one out.

I'm totally in love with how this one came out. It's like, if you had a cartoon character who's reading a plot-relevant book of fairy tales, this is the book you'd draw for them. Belle has this book. It's perfect for its niche. The front cover is burgundy cardstock with brown faux leather on the spine, and antique-brass-finish photo corners to protect the edges. The rose was done with gold embossing powder and a stamp, since I can't draw and those lines are too fine for the cricut. The batch of books I'm working through now is my first time experimenting with legal quarto size (legal size paper (8.5x14 in.) folded twice) and everyone who raved about it is right. It's very satisfying to hold and was a joy to make.

Check out the rest of my photos under the cut!

Close up of the photo corners and a view of the spine. I've never used photo corners before, partly because I don't ever see them on commercial books, but they just felt right for this project so I felt it was time to experiment. I didn't glue them down, just clamped them closed with jewelry pliers, and I was worried they wouldn't stay in place but they seem to be fine. Cardstock isn't a very hard-wearing material, and if it has a white core it tends to show at the corners of the book where it rubs against things, even under light handling. Hopefully the metal corners will protect it.

The spine title came out well. I was worried about matching the color with the embossing powder color on the front, but they came out fine and I'm very pleased.

Top view, with handmade red-and-green endbands and a green ribbon bookmark. Both of these were chosen to match the absolutely gorgeous endpapers with this mosaic flower pattern. They're chiyogami from ChibiJay and they're stunning; the photos don't do them justice. I bought them because they remind me of the stained glass windows in the Disney Beauty and the Beast. CJ has this great deal where you can make custom paper packs in pre-cut sizes for a discounted price, and they've got hundreds of patterns. This isn't sponsored, by the way, I just think they're awesome.

Some photos of the title page and first page of the story. I'm experimenting with DaFont some more. The one on the title page and for the chapter numbers is called Christmas Card, and the drop capital is called Floral Capitals, both free to use for personal projects. I've only done drop caps on a couple of projects, because for purely personal aesthetic reasons I don't like when they sink into the paragraph, but if I can mimic them by just making the first letter huge? Love that. Defintely going to keep doing that. Can never get the kerning to look right when I do it the regular way, but with this it isn't an issue.

The graphics on the title page are re-used from an older project, but they were so perfect for this one that I just went with it.

As I said above, this is my first legal quarto but it for sure won't be my last! There are three more in this batch, and they're so pleasant to hold that I'll for sure be making more before too long.

[kthecutest]

hello uhm I recently just followed your account because I am very interested in the way you write smut stuff or au's in general and hope your gonna like my idea <3

can you please do legal line like including Jo and yuma considering they are I think 19? and whether they are sub or dom <3

if you are not comfortable with writing it it's totally fine<3

and uhm I already asked so much questions but can I be 🤍anon? but if it's not alright its fine<3

-anon

Of course! you can be 🤍anon! I'm sorry I replied so late, I wanted to finish your request by the time I reply ໒꒰ྀི ╥﹏╥ ꒱ྀིა I'm so glad you love my way of writing! and I hope you'll enjoy this post and my upcoming future posts as well!

&Team legal line : Dom&Sub Dynamic˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊

•✩──────✧✩✦✩✧──────✩•

Pairing : &Team legal line x f!reader Genre : NSFW (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ 🥕 A/N ೃ⁀➷ MINORS DNI

K – Hard Dom

Literally I cannot see K as anything other than a hard dom. No matter how cutesy he acts normally, in bed he’s a beast no doubt. He’s the kind of dom who would set out a whole reward and punishment system from the very beginning. But really it didn’t matter because for you both reward and punishment represents the same thing – pleasure. You don’t even have to request him for any experiments you wanna try out, because he is the most experimental bitch okay. He’s flexible as fuck too so he’ll fuck you in every possible position and make you cum and squirt in each of them. And it’s not just the positions that he’ll be experimenting on, expect to be trying out all sorts of toys in his sight all night until you’re all spent and passed out in the morning. He’ll also edge you as punishment, pulling out his fingers every time you felt your orgasm approaching leaving you whining and sobbing. As reward, he’ll overstimulate you, swirling his tongue skillfully around your clit while pounding three of his digits into your dripping pussy till you feel all numb and dumbified. Dirty talk 100% too, harsher words if its angry sex of course. Prepare for him to degrade you, mock you and tease you in every possible vocabulary ever.

“You wouldn’t want euijoo to see how much of a slut you are right~?”

Fuma – Soft Dom

His body maybe built as fuck but his heart has such a sweet spot for you. He’s more of a lovey dovey person rather than a degrader. But that doesn’t stop him from destroying you with his huge girthy cock though. He’ll pour out praises and whines while pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow. Bro is a softy at heart but he’s definitely not soft down there. Would repeatedly whine your name out loud when he started chasing his own orgasm. 100% into breeding you so bad, just watching your pussy getting filled to the brim with his seed to the point your stomach started swelling up at one point. He’d lose his mind from just that sight. Definitely a cum eater. He would pull out after filling you up, before kneeling on his knees, head between your legs and started lapping up the mixture of your and his cum that spills out your stretched pussy.

“You look so cute… falling apart on my tongue baby..~”

Nicholas – Wild Switch

Feel like everyone in the legal line has their own chosen sides like either dom or sub accurately but this dude, this bitch got no sides, because he be taking every role. All depends on your request. If you say you wanted to take the lead, he’ll definitely lay himself beneath for you to use him however you want. But he’ll still definitely be bratty about it though, would piss you off, mocking you, saying how what you’re doing to him is so ineffective and weak, just so you would grow wilder. But if you put him in charge though… bro turns into K honestly. You cannot stop this man. He is like K number 2, he will have you moaning and gushing all over his cock until you’re on the verge of passing out. Not to mention, it’s very easy to make Nicho jealous, you can easily tell if your little mischievous plan works or not from the look on his face. He’ll drag you away to the nearest isolated area and break your mind with his cock.

“Fuck.. had your fun pissing me off huh~?”

Ej – Soft Sub

Whiny soft sub. That’s what Ej is. It’s just the easiest thing ever to make Ej blush. Just a small dirty little tease and he’s already up and ready, his face flushed. A subby pervert so any slight wording or action, could get his cock twitching to life. Once that happens, you’d best believe you’ve got a whole lot of responsibility on your hands now. Because that boy more specifically his girthy cock has infinite stamina, it ain’t gonna go down in just a few strokes hell no. Vanilla boy though but still could be rough if he’s feeling way too much pleasure. Once his cock is in your mouth, you bobbing your head licking and choking on it, in just a few seconds he’ll find his hands in your hair, pushing your head down in a swift. As you felt his tip goes deeper down your throat, you gagged around it rolling your eyes back. That sight alone could get Mr. Vanilla cumming in a whip, whining out little sorries as he shot his seed into your mouth.

“Aaah~ s-sorry love~ I’m sorry~ I can’t h-hold back..anymore..!”

Yuma – Soft Dom

This boy. This cute ass little kitty, he’s not so much of a kitty when he fucks though. Yuma’s the type of baby boy who would come up to you from behind while you’re cooking or washing the dishes, starts nibbling on your neck sweetly signaling you that he’s horny while rubbing his bulge against your back. There’s no way you could say no when you felt arousal starts pooling in your underwear from his mere actions. Yuma is the type of boyfriend who loves to fuck you with any type of outfits on. Bonus points if they’re intentionally sexy of course, but he still finds you sexy in anything. He’ll rip your skirt in an instant but when you try to get out of your apron, he’ll stop you, telling you that he’d prefer you with only an apron on. You agreed to his little suggestion, taking your top off as well staying only in your apron. It only took a second until he’s pounding into you in a heated state.

“Noona~ you look so good.. exposed for me like this~”

Jo – Average Dom

Shy Jo is definitely a dom but he neither leans on the hard side nor the soft side. He’s just in the middle level kind of dude. But that doesn’t mean he can’t go rough with you. This cute baby-faced cutie could definitely destroy your petite body into oblivion. 100% size kink. The height difference between you and him alone proves it too much. With your petite body, this boy wouldn’t show it on his face but he was secretly getting more and more turned on from how the huge bulge on your stomach was visible every time he pounds into you. But his excitement was definitely obvious from his twitching cock in you. You’d gasp suddenly when you could even feel him getting a bit bigger inside you. And it’s not just in fucking, he also loved and I mean LOVED it when your small mouth was filled with his cock. Your cheeks puffing up, tears welling up in your eyes, as you struggled to breathe, not being able to take it whole. He wouldn’t be too harsh but he would sometimes tug on your head and push your head, making you take more than you can, as he secretly gets turned on seeing the tiny droplets of tears hanging on the edge of your eyes fell down your cheeks uncontrollably.

“..love open wider now.. cmon you can take it..~ just a bit more~”

[nehi-soda]

Bedroom Ceremonials - Joel Miller x Female Reader No Outbreak AU

Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.

“You walk a fine line between god and animal

You’re just a feral dog I worship in bedroom ceremonials”

- Dog Days, Ethel Cain.

Summary: His warm eyes were now stormy with frustration and concern, raindrops clinging to his dark hair, and his chaahart jacket soaked through from the rain. He doesn't waste a moment before unleashing his pent-up emotions, his breathing ragged as he towers in the doorway.

"Where the hell were you?"

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: P in V sex, ANGST, rough sex, smut, jealous!joel, established relationship, mention of violence (not directed at reader), alcohol, praise kink, dirty talk, size kink, makeup sex, oral sex (female receiving), au!joel, no outbreak!joel. Legal age gap (reader is mid 20's Joel is late 40's). No use of Y/N.

A/N: This is my first time writing any kind of smut or fan fiction. I just had to get some ideas out of my system. Joel is just so Ethel Cain coded.

As you step inside, the weight of the day's stress seems to cling to you like a heavy coat. It's been a rough day, and the unfamiliarity of your new job and home is only adding to your apprehension.

You can't help but feel a pang of longing for your dad's company, and you miss the comfort of having Joel just across the street.

You walk through the door, feeling like a soggy mess after getting caught in the rain on your way home.

Although you've been living there for four weeks now, the space still feels new. You do love it. You enjoy having your own space, being surrounded by your belongings, and having total control over the decor. Joel has personally assembled nearly all the furniture. No longer are you limited to just decorating your childhood bedroom.

However, you're still finding your feet in this new chapter of your life.

After dumping your bag in the hallway, you sigh deeply and release some of the tension that has built up in your neck. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror - your mascara is smudged, and your hair is plastered to your face.

You quickly change out of your wet clothes and head to the bathroom to run the shower. As the steam begins to fill the room, you can feel yourself starting to relax.

You're already wrapped in your towel, pacing around your bedroom, when you grab your phone. It's been a busy day, and you haven't had a chance to check your messages. You see that Joel has sent you a few texts that you haven't had a chance to respond to.

Joel: hey baby, hope you have a good day at work x

Joel: hey, me again. Everything ok?

Joel: I figured you’re probably caught up in work stuff. Call me when you’re home.

As you toss your phone onto the bed, your face pulls into a guilty frown. You make a mental note to call Joel as soon as you're out of the shower, but right now, all you want to do is snuggle up in bed. Even though you crave to hear his southern drawl pour out of your phone's speaker like honey, exhaustion had taken over.

You head into the bathroom and swiftly lock the door behind you. You let out a sigh of relief as the hot water from the shower caresses your neck and chest. As you lather up your hair and body, you feel the day's stress slowly melting away.

Emerging from the shower, your hair still damp and clinging to your back, you tiptoe to your dresser and fish out a pair of checkered sleep shorts and an off-the-shoulder grey sweater, which you've cherished for years, proudly displaying "Texas" in bold across the front. You decide to complete the outfit with a pair of comfy cream knee socks for added warmth. They hug your thighs as you towel off your hair.

As you sink into the plush comfort of your bed and listen to the rain beating down on your windows, your thoughts drift to the soothing sound of Joel's voice.

You imagine the reassuring thump of his heart beneath your ear, the scratch of his unshaven jaw grazing the top of your head, and the comforting sensation of his work-worn fingers tracing hypnotic circles on your shoulders.

You yearn for more time with Joel, but it's hard to make it happen with busy schedules. He's been spoilt having you for nearly the entire summer break after graduating from college and now you both are feeling the strain.

Fortunately, he's devised a thoughtful solution - offering to pick you up after work to drop you home to squeeze in some extra quality time. Only this inevitably ends up with him just taking you to his house so he can tangle his fingers in your hair and fuck you senseless all night. Smart plan.

You wake up in his sheets, smelling like him. You always wake up first. You start to get ready for work, stealing glances at him sleeping in the sheets. Vulnerable and quiet. Such a contrast to his demeanour the night before when he gripped your hips so deliciously hard he left bruises, and pulled the fibres of pink tissue from your lips into shreds with his teeth.

You savour a warm cup of his coffee as marmalade sunlight seeps through the curtains, casting golden rays across his head like a halo. A glint of silver is growing up the side of his hairline. He thinks it makes him look distinguished, and you can’t help but agree. He loves to be so much older than you. He thinks it makes him wise.

You recall your fingers tapping against his bare chest like a spider's legs as you undo his flannel buttons one by one, revealing a glimpse of his toned torso from his physically demanding job. He listens intently as you ramble on about your day, content to let you have the floor. He's not much of a talker, but you don't mind. You love the way he watches you. His eyes glitter like a lake catching the glare of the moonlight, and he smirks when you get flustered. He knows the power he holds over you, and he lets it all go to his head.

He's a man of simple pleasures- clean socks and messy hair. He writes his name in the fog on the mirror from where he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pressed your face against the glass. The memory still makes you feel dizzy.

You believe he walks a fine line between god and animal, like a feral dog you worship in bedroom ceremonials.

Just as your saccharine memories of Joel have lulled you to sleep, you hear a loud hammering at the door. You jolt awake, panicked and disorientated, feeling like you’ve been ripped away from paradise.

Groggily, you fumble around the sheets for your phone, finding it still in the same spot where you tossed it earlier. Your eyes are still heavy with sleep; they peer at the illuminated screen displaying 11:11.

You see a barrage of missed calls from Joel. Your heart races as you wonder what could be so urgent. Then it hits you like a ton of bricks - you’d forgotten to call him….

You take in your surroundings- the deep blue hue of your room and the persistent pounding at your front door. You scramble out of bed and rush through the hallway.

You fumble with the lock and swing the door open to find Joel standing there, his gaze fixed on yours with an intensity you've never seen before. His warm eyes were now stormy with frustration and concern, raindrops clinging to his dark hair, and his chaahart jacket soaked through from the rain. He doesn't waste a moment before unleashing his pent-up emotions, his breathing ragged as he towers in the doorway.

"Where the hell were you?" he demands, his voice sharp and accusatory with a southern edge. “I've been callin' and textin' all day, and you couldn't even bother to respond?” He barges past you. The sound of heavy footsteps resonates through the living room as Joel paces back and forth. The tension in the air is palpable, hanging thick like the storm clouds outside. You watch him, tugging on your sleeves and shuffling your socks against the wood floor.

“Joel, I'm sorry. It was just a hectic day, and I lost track of time. I didn't mean to ignore you." You answer, still caught off guard by his unexpected visit.

His expression tightens, and he steps closer, invading your personal space. “Lost track of time? Or were you with someone else, huh? Is that what's goin' on?"

Your heart feels heavy with hurt. "Joel, no! I would never—" He cuts you off, his frustration escalating.

"Don't give me that. You've been distant lately, and now this? I'm not stupid. If you're messin’ around, just be honest about it.” The faint scent of alcohol lingers on his breath. Whiskey you guess. Tears well up in your eyes as you try to make him understand.

"Joel, I'm not cheating on you. It's just been a tough transition with the new job and all. I've been overwhelmed." Your heart pounding now.

He carries on prowling around your living room.

“What, you think I’ve been fucking one of my co-workers on the side?” you continue, struggling to focus on his face as your vision blurs from the tears.

His face is shrouded in the darkness of your living room. He casts a long shadow on your walls. “Overwhelmed or not, you should have found a moment to let me know. Ignorin' me ain't fair.” His words come out with a coldness that makes a lump develop in your throat. You nod, a tear escaping and trailing down your cheek. "You're right. I should have communicated better. I didn't mean to hurt you."

He sighs, running a hand through his wet hair. "Damn it, I care about you. I can't stand feelin’ like I don't even know where you are."

"Joel, please," you plead, trying to sound calm, but your voice comes out strained. You can’t help but feel pathetic. "Let's talk about this. I don't want things to be like this."

He halts his pacing, shooting you a glare that cuts through the air like lightning. "Talk? We've been needin' to talk for a while now. You've been avoidin' it”.

You take a deep breath; your lips tremble now. "I know. I've been caught up in everything; I don’t want to think about anything when I'm with you. That’s why I don’t bring it up.”

Joel's gaze narrows, his lips forming a tight line. The room feels charged with his lingering anger. He releases a sigh and his eyes soften slightly.

"I get it. Life can throw a whole mess of things at us; sometimes it feels like we're drownin'. But keepin' things bottled up and shuttin’ me out ain't the answer baby girl," he says, his Southern drawl carrying a touch of sweetness. You nod again the tears are now streaming down your face.

“I just… I don't want to burden you with my problems. I want our time together to be a safe space from all the chaos."

He lets out a heavy sigh. "Look, I ain't sayin' it's gonna be easy, but we can't keep playin' these games. I ain’t one of your lil’ college boyfriends, okay. If you got a problem, we face it together. That's what bein' in a grown-up relationship is about." His tone bites.

You nod again, a heavy weight settling in your chest. "You're right. I messed up. I want to fix it, Joel." The desperation in your voice echoes, and you feel like a rabbit pleading into the blinding headlights of an oncoming car.

He steps closer, his hand warm on your cheek as you lean into his touch. "I appreciate that, darlin', but we're in this together.” His words are unexpectedly soft.

"You're right. I shouldn't have shut you out,” you mumble.

His darkened eyes threaten to swallow you up as they gaze into yours. He makes you feel… nervous. His mere presence has this effect, leaving you feeling exposed as your emotions betray you, slipping from your eyes and staining your cheeks. In this vulnerable moment, you're reminded of how much he loves it when you’re so needy. The contrast between your sleep clothes and his work attire makes you feel small. You wonder why he hadn’t changed out of them before coming over?

Joel had been back from work hours before he arrived at your apartment. He paced anxiously in his living room with a glass of whiskey in his hand, work-worn jeans, and boots still on. He pours himself another whiskey and slams it down on the coffee table as his mind swims with thoughts of you with another man. Joel knew he was jumping to conclusions but how else could he explain your distance lately? He knew you were too good for him. He just knew how everyone turned to look at you when you entered the room. You were too damn pretty for your own good. His jaw clenched at the thought of another man’s hands roaming over your perfect body. His grip tightened on his whiskey glass before smashing it against the wall in frustration.

He storms outside into the rain to his truck.

On his way to your apartment his eyes are wild on the road, knuckles turning white on the wheel.

“God, you drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he hisses between his teeth. Joel's hands, calloused and strong, cradle your face delicately.

“We'll figure it out, darlin'. Together. No more keepin' things from each other. Deal?" His voice warm and husky.

You smile as he buries your face into his still-wet chest. "Deal." You sigh.

He withdraws from you and firmly holds your chin, trailing kisses over your wet cheeks. He finds your lips and presses his mouth against yours. He dips his tongue into your mouth and you let out a soft moan. He tastes like whiskey.

Joel switches his grip from your chin to the back of your thighs as he lifts you in his strong arms. You feel his muscles flexing, and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he carries you towards your bedroom. When you’re in his arms you’re convinced that nothing in the world could harm you.

Your heart races against your chest as he navigates the familiar terrain of your room. He places you gently on the bed, and the mattress yields to the shape of your body. Joel hovers above you, his eyes locked onto yours, dancing a shade of midnight. The soft illumination of moonlight casts shadows on his face, emphasizing the strong contours of his nose and face.

You can hear the muted sounds of rain outside, the creaking of the bed beneath you, and the rhythmic cadence of your breathing.

Joel's hands, now free from supporting your weight, shed his soaked jacket. You peer up at him as you work on your own sweater and discard it over your head. Your skin erupts in goosebumps with the exposure of your breasts. Your chest rising and falling steadily, nipples puckered like rosebuds. His eyes skate over your body with glint of hunger. You snake your hands underneath his shirt. He gets the idea and pulls his shirt off too.

You pull him closer into you with your legs as you writhe around underneath him, heels digging into his lower back. He leans over you, trailing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and neck. Profanities escape his breath as he ruts his hips into yours. The undeniable hardness beneath his jeans becoming more prominent.

His kisses are now nips, blooming blue and violet markings along your throat and collar bone. You grip at the roots of his hair, and extend your neck further to give him some extra room.

“Joel, please,” you wimper as you throw your head back into the bed.

He hums against your throat, and it sends tingles down your body.

“I want you,” you continue to whine.

You feel him grin and pull back. He shuffles himself off the bed and kneels on the floor. You take a hard swallow as he works at the waistband of your shorts and pulls them off along with your panties in one swift motion. He runs his hands along your knee socks playfully.

“These can stay,” he declares with a deep voice that reverberates across the room.

His head is low and in line with your bare throbbing pussy. You chew your lip as he settles down between your thighs.

His hot breath ghosts across your needy clit as he holds your thighs in place.

He starts sucking on your clit and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Little breaths escape your mouth.

“Fuck Joel.” You let out, gripping at the bed sheets.

He continues working at your clit. His beard on his chin pressed firmly against your entrance. The scratch is almost sore but mixed with the waves of pleasure emitting from his lips, you don’t care.

“Jo- Joel,…I-,” you can no longer string a sentence together.

“Use your words baby,” he mumbles against you.

"I-I don't even… want you to e-eat my pussy. I just… want your c-cock in my pussy," you whine, eyes pressed shut. Head thrown back in ecstasy.

"Huh? Well, what do we say when we want somethin’?" Joel teases, glancing over you, observing your growing distress.

“P-please,” your lips quiver.

“Good girl.” He coos, shifting to stand over you like a phantom in the dark.

You hear the clink of metal as he undoes his belt and unzips his jeans to step out of them. He returns to the space between your legs reaching into his boxers to free his cock. The head looks angry and is leaking precum. He leans over you, and lines up to your entrance and pauses.

“Are you going to be good and answer your phone when I call?” He spits. A sheen of sweat forms on his skin, making his hair cling to his forehead.

“Huh…yeah…. I’ll be g-good I promise.” You moan, desperate for the stretch of his cock.

He slides into you, and you can't help but gasp. You're always so surprised by his sheer size. You wince as you try to adjust to accommodate him inside you.

“Ah…fuck.” He grunts, slowly building momentum in his thrusts. “Always, so tight for me baby.”

Your mouth falls open as the familiar swirl of your release is already growing in the pit of your stomach. Your nails carve small crescents into his sides as you clutch onto him.

Fuck, you needed this. You needed the stress to be fucked out of you.

More mumbles and moans slip from your mouth as you’re rocked into the bed, becoming more and more cock drunk.

“Such a good girl takin’ all of me.” Joel grits. His southern twang stronger when he's all riled up. His thrusts hit deeper, hitting a spot inside you so delicious it threatens to push you over the edge.

You pull your legs up higher around him, your hands cradle your toes just to give you something to cling onto. He felt like he was splitting you open. Filling you to the hilt.

The filthy sound of the bed creaking and the slapping of skin filled the room.

His hand moves to clasp around your throat, and you blink up at him, pupils blown out wide.

"Tell me you're my lil’ slut.” he spits.

"I-I'm your lil' slu-slut,” you cry out, your words catching in your throat.

“um…yes, you are darlin’, and don’t you forget it,” Joel whispers darkly in your ear.

“Now cum for me.” He grunts.

“Cum-for-me-prin-cess.” Each syllable punctuated with a hard thrust. His hips meeting yours. You were definitely going to feel it in the morning.

You feel your climax edging to the forefront and his words are enough to send you spiralling.

“Joel-fuck!” You pant as your muscles pull taught in your stomach, and your legs shake.

“That’s my baby.” He encourages you past the point of no return and you sink into your orgasm. You grip his cock tight like a vice and it’s too much for him. His orgasm spirts out hot. His cock pulsating inside you as he collapses his head into your neck.

“Oh fuck, baby, so good!” He exclaims- emptying his balls into you. You feel his spent spilling inside.

He peels himself off you and pulls out with a wince. You feel so painfully empty without him buried deep inside you, occupying every one of your senses.

He pulls you into the duvet and holds you close. You feel his warmth seeping into your bones. You both lie there with ragged breaths and oxytocin coursing through your veins. With a gentle touch, he swipes some stray hairs from your face as you nestle into his chest panting.

You lie there for a while watching the raindrops race each other on the windowpane, each tiny droplet leaving a fleeting mark on the glass. You can hear the steady beat of Joel’s heart under you. You were wiped out, eyes beginning to flutter closed.

In the quiet of your little cocoon, the minutes stretch like molasses until Joel breaks the comfortable silence.

With his arms wrapped around you, he whispers, “We'll face whatever comes together, darlin’," and plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. You feel his warmth and love, and you know that you're not alone.

divider credit to @saradika

[skyward-floored]

Swapped

Part one of the Incredibles au power swap fic lets gooooo

I don’t know how many parts this is going to be total, maybe four..? I tried to keep it short, but that... didn’t work, heh. This is set after movie stuff at some point, don’t know exactly when, not too long... but supers are legal at least.

But anyway, enjoy part one!

Part two

————————————————————

Wind woke up slowly, his ears ringing in his skull.

A dull pulse of pain rippled through his middle, and he winced, putting a hand on his chest and rubbing it as he tried to think through what had happened. He remembered a voice talking, and something about intruders being free test subjects...

Oh. Right.

And a big explosion that had sent them all flying.

Ow...

Wind rubbed his eyes, wincing. He supposed a weird explosion shouldn’t be that surprising, since they were trying to break into a crazy-secure science lab. They’d gotten some information on all sorts of illegal experiments going on here, with supers allegedly involved, and they’d all suited up and stormed the place.

Nobody had realized they were expected.

Wind sighed, and sat up with another wince, grateful his supersuit was so sturdy. If he’d been in his civilian clothes, he’d probably be a smear on the wall right now. Or at least dealing with some broken ribs instead of just the weird soreness he had.

He shook his head, trying to disperse the ringing in his ears, and looked around, wondering why it was so quiet. Something about the air seemed weird, like something was missing from it.

A frown settled on Wind’s face and he reached for some wind, trying to listen and see if there was anything moving nearby. Then he froze.

He couldn’t do it.

Wind thrust his hand out, twirling it in the motion he always used when he directed the winds, but nothing happened, no matter how he moved his hands, no matter how hard he tried.

Something was wrong with his powers.

Wind breathed in shakily, and looked down at his hands, trying not to get swamped with panic. He was fine, he was fine except for the aches and lack of powers, he was fine. He probably just... needed to recover a little more from being unconscious. Yeah.

That had to be it.

Wind swallowed and looked around, suddenly zeroing in on Legend lying nearby. He wasn’t moving, and Wind shakily got to his feet, stumbling over and crouching at his side.

“Legend?” Wind asked, and gave his brother a light shake.

Legend didn’t move, not one inch, and the sight of his brother so still made something lurch in Wind’s stomach.

He paused in trying to wake him, and turned his attention to the rest of the room. He’d been separated from the others in the explosion, and the only other person besides Legend and himself in the hallway was Warriors. And Warriors looked like he was beginning to stir, a groan coming from his direction.

Wind stood up again, the absence of his wind all the more noticeable when he tried to draw on it for assistance. He swallowed and kept going, and knelt by Warriors’ side as his eyes flickered open.

“Warriors?” he asked in a shaky voice, and his uncle groaned, pressing his hands to his ears.

“Not so loud...” he bit out in a whisper, face screwed up in a wince. “...why is it so loud?”

“...I’m the only one making any noise,” Wind said in confusion, and when Warriors winced, he switched to a whisper as well. “...Sorry. It’s not loud at all Warriors, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t... know?” Warriors bit out, trying to sit up. “Ugh... I feel like I got hit by a truck...”

“Did you hit your head?” Wind asked anxiously, and Warriors slowly shook it, still wincing.

“No... everything is just... loud.”

Wind waited a moment for him to wake up a little more, and Warriors breathed out, slowly sitting up. Pain still showed in the way his face was creased though, and Wind felt the bubble of anxiety in his chest get a little bigger.

“That was a weird thing they hit us with... are you sure you’re okay?” Wind said as he helped Warriors sit up, glancing worriedly at the rubble separating them from the others.

“Yeah...” Warriors mumbled. “You okay, Wind?”

Wind swallowed.

“I... I don’t know,” he said honestly, wishing his voice wouldn’t shake. “I only woke up a bit ago. I found Legend too, he’s still unconscious, but Wars there’s— there’s something wrong with my powers.”

“What?”

Wind bit his lip. “I can’t get them to work. Ever since I woke up I haven’t been able to feel any wind or anything, there’s something wrong.”

Warriors’ face creased in concern, but then he paused, and held out his hand with his palm outstretched.

Nothing.

He tried again, a little more frantically, but still nothing happened, and he exhaled, looking down at his hands.

“Looks like mine are on the fritz too,” he said worriedly, then gave Wind’s shoulder a squeeze. “We’ll... we’ll figure this out. There’s probably something blocking them, I’ve seen this before. We just need to find the device.”

“You’re sure?” Wind said shakily, and Warriors nodded, giving his hair a quick ruffle.

“Yeah. It’ll be fine, kiddo.”

Wind gave him a small smile, then decided to check on Legend again since he still hadn’t moved. His brother’s face was still pale and blank, and while he didn’t look injured, Wind knew stuff could be hurt on the inside where they couldn’t see it.

Warriors joined him a few moments later, still wincing, and got to a knee beside Legend. He began looking him over, brushing dusty bangs from his face, and Wind watched in silence from beside him.

“Warriors, what do we do now?” Wind asked quietly, and his uncle hesitated, flinching when a sound rang out in the distance.

“I... don’t know just yet. Let’s recuperate for a bit, see if we can wake Legend up. Maybe try and contact the others. Then... I guess keep going. Somebody has to stop this scientist guy.

“And that somebody is us.”

“Right-o,” Warriors smiled. Then he stiffened, ears pricking as he looked down the hallway. “Someone’s coming.”

“I don’t hear anything,” Wind said in confusion, and Warriors shook his head, gathering Legend up into his arms.

“I can, there’s someone coming, trust me. We need to—”

Footsteps clattered towards them, and Warriors flinched, quickly tugging Wind and Legend behind a piece of rubble. A handful of guards came around the corner, and Wind crouched down further, watching them nervously.

Normally four guards would be nothing, but without powers and Warriors in a questionable state... Wind wasn’t sure they could handle them.

“Wars?” he whispered, and Warriors put a finger to his lips.

The guards drew nearer, spreading out and looking around the rubble. One came closer and closer to where Warriors and Wind were, and suddenly looked behind the rubble, spotting them.

“Hey!”

He grabbed for his gun, and Warriors shoved Wind behind him, launching himself at the guard with a snarl. The man shouted as he fell backwards, and despite the pain on Warriors’ face, he managed to wrestle the gun away from him.

The other guards heard him though, and Wind’s stomach lurched as they surrounded Warriors, unsure if he should go help or stay where he was and defend Legend. Warriors was hurting, but Legend wasn’t even awake, what was he supposed to do?

Two guards split off and went for Wind, and he yelped in panic, backing up so he could better protect Legend. The guards both reached in the nook Wind and Legend were tucked in, trying to grab them, but Wind avoided their hands and kicked at their arms.

Warriors was still struggling with the other two guards, but when he heard Wind’s yelp, his head shot up, eyes going wide when he saw one of them pull out a gun.

“Get away from them!” he shouted, eyes glowing, and was suddenly doused in shadows.

A familiar noise hummed through the air, and Wind and the guards stared in shock as the shadows dispersed, leaving a grayish-blue and white wolf on the ground where Warriors had been.

The wolf looked utterly shellshocked, and Wind felt much the same as he stared at it.

What.

Wind suddenly realized the guards were all distracted by the abrupt appearance of a wolf, and he shoved his shock to the back of his mind. He pushed the two that were trying to grab him, knocking them both over, then darted out and grabbed a piece of metal that had fallen on the ground.

He slammed it into one of the guard’s heads, sending him to the floor, but by then the others had snapped out of their daze.

But Warriors had too, and it didn’t take long for him and Wind to take out the other three guards. All four lay unconscious in short order, and Wind panted heavily as he wiped his face.

Then he stared back at the wolf, who was staring at his paws with his ears back.

“Um... what?” Wind spluttered, disbelief coming back. “Warriors that— how?”

The Warriors-wolf whined, his eyes wide, and he paced around in an anxious circle, nose twitching and ears flicking.

“How did you do that?!” Wind repeated, and Warriors flinched at his raised voice, ears folding back again. “...sorry. But why do you have Twilight’s powers?!”

Warriors repeated his whine, tail between his legs, and suddenly the shadows whirled around him again, blocking him from view. When they dispersed, Warriors was back to normal, sitting on the ground and looking somewhat nauseous.

“...Warriors?” Wind asked, and Warriors slowly sank down and laid on his back, then put a hand over his eyes.

“Gimme a sec,” he croaked.

Wind went quiet, and for a minute the only sound in the room was Warriors’ somewhat-shaky breathing.

While his uncle got a hold of himself, Wind gently tugged Legend out from the hiding spot, setting his head in his lap as he sat down. He ran a hand over Legend’s hair while he watched Warriors, and finally his uncle exhaled, and took the hand off his eyes.

“I think I know what the problem with our powers is,” he murmured. “Somehow... they switched.”

“But how?” Wind said as he stared at his uncle, and Warriors sighed, slowly sitting up and setting his hands over his ears again.

“I don’t know. But... I think it has to do with that weird energy pulse. I’d guess somehow it switched our powers.”

Wind stared at him in shock, and Warriors grimaced as something made a sound in the distance.

“How... is that even possible?”

“I have no earthly clue.”

Wind petted Legend on the head again, trying to wrap his brain around the idea of powers somehow swapping. Their powers were a literal part of them, how could anything switch them around?

“So... so you somehow have Twilight’s powers,” Wind said, and Warriors nodded. “Does that mean Twilight has yours?”

“I don’t know. But based on the whole wolf thing and the fact that I can hear so much as a pin drop, I definitely switched with Twilight,” Warriors said, then winced again. “Eugh. How does he deal with being able to smell everything? Or hear people breathing?”

Wind shrugged. “So... what was it like being a wolf?” he asked curiously.

“...Weird. We should get moving before the guards wake up,” Warriors said, dodging the question, and Wind sighed and nodded. Obviously Warriors didn’t want to talk about it.

...he’d get it out of him eventually though.

Wind looked down at his hands as Warriors moved to pick up Legend, flexing his fingers, and wondered suddenly if the same thing had happened to him.

Had he just gotten his powers blocked, or had he switched with somebody too? Was that why he couldn’t feel his winds?

Wind focused on himself for a second, trying to remember back to when he was smaller, and accessing his powers was more difficult. Normally there was a sense of the winds around him that he drew on, a thrum in his heart that moved in time with them, and he could usually draw on it with little to no effort.

That feeling wasn’t there anymore, but as Wind focused, he realized there was a different thrum inside of him now, one that felt blindingly strong.

Wind cautiously drew on it, but it was like turning on a firehose, and a flood of whatever power he had now came rushing at him, startling a yelp from his throat.

Warriors called his name, but Wind barely heard him, focused on the power rushing through his middle, spreading to his limbs and stretching out along his face. It was nearly overwhelming, but Wind held on against it, gritting his teeth as power buzzed all over throughout his skin.

The rush ebbed finally, enough that Wind could open his eyes, and the first thing he noticed was that the floor seemed a lot further away then it had before.

Also Warriors staring at him in shock.

“What?” Wind asked, then startled at the way his voice echoed.

“You... you also swapped,” Warriors said in a somewhat strangled voice.

Wind blinked, then looked at his hands, feeling the current of power run through him, feeling so powerful that he could probably punch his way through the walls if he had to.

Which meant...

“I got Dad’s, didn’t I?” Wind said.

Warriors sat back down.

“...Yep.”

[julietsbb]

so pondphuwin legal drama tv show where phuwin is a famous boxer with anger issues and pond is a defence lawyer

brought to you by a) pw being cute and doing silly boxing moves as they were shooting stuff for promoting fancon b) the pictures on pond in specs today and c) ppw in suits (and d) i want more unhinged angry phuwin content HE WOULD DO IT SO WELL and e) I want pond in more three piece suits and glasses and I’m desperate for him to have another role where he gets to sound intelligent/smart)

so Phuwin absolutely loses his shit at some asshole and beats him bloody I don’t care if it was justified or not or betty or righteous doesn’t matter but the dude hits him with an assault charge

And Phuwin can’t go to jail because then he can’t box and that would make him lose his mind because it’s the only way he knows to process his anger so IN COMES DEFENCE LAWYER POND who doesn’t even fucking want this case, he spends his time defending like, actually down on their luck people who deserves an extra chance BUT he’s also working in a corporate word that needs to make money and his boss told him to take the case because he’s friends with phuwin’s agent and pond is the bestest or some such and he owes his boss a favour

Anyways they obviously hate each other because phuwin’s anger at the entire situation keeps going off and makes pond’s job harder etc etc (also both of them are very attractive and they also hate that about each other)

And so it’s the night before the first hearing (they’ve been trying to dig up stuff to discredit the victim somehow) and pond snaps and is like “Jesus Christ if it can stop you from going off in court tomorrow just punch ME and get it out of your system I would prefer that actually” (it’s 2am and he has no filter left)

And pw’s character is like “????? what”

And pond is like “never mind I’m just tired” and pw’s like “no wait punching you sounds good actually could we do that because I’ve been wanting to punch your stupid fucking face with your stupid fucking glasses—“ and pond’s like “well if you’re punching me it’s sure as fuck not on my face because a) I need my glasses and b) it wouldn’t actually help your case if I showed up looking like my client with the assault charge just assaulted me, so it would defeat the purpose of it all” and then pw’s like well where the fuck can I hit you then and pond gives it serious consideration and it becomes, slowly, apparent, that he Knows Things™️ about being hit, saying stuff like “the meat of my thighs if I sit down or my buttocks if I’m lying down somewhere but that would be more awkward. possibly my chest too but let’s avoid my diaphragm and gut area” and like, he gets up and takes off his jacket???? and tie!??? and phuwin’s like “????????” but it also kind of makes him want to hit him more and pond tells him to control his punches so they don’t accidentally hit somewhere they shouldn’t and phuwin laughs in his face because don’t he know he’s talking to a professional boxer actually??

And so they find some way Phu gets to punch him in a way that’s Safe Sane and Consensual and phuwin thinks it’s weird as shit wtf kinda lawyer did they GIVE him but he…… can’t deny he feels better afterwards. And pond gets some MEAN bruises but they’re all covered up by clothes so it’s fine actually as he’d hoped his brain is much clearer after (actually after the first two punches pond has to tell him that he can hit harder than that it’s okay. phuwin hits harder)

Anyways court the next day isn’t a total disaster they haven’t lost YET bought themselves some more time the team celebrates with a beer that evening and they’re the only two left and phuwin’s tongue is loose enough to ask about it and pond’s is loose enough to answer, tell him about how people can enjoy pain in different ways, how it’s something he practises on occasion but has done so for a good long while and Phuwin is like o______o and like… “so it’s not just… punches?” And pond laughs in his face and tells him about how there’s a million different ways and types and personally he would usually prefer a heavy flogger to his back on a normal day but he’s tried this and that.

And phuwin’s char is FASCINATED and his fingers are starting to itch like they usually do for a boxing glove but less familiar and well worn, more new and existing. Exhilarating.

Anyways so Phuwin gets a new way to channel his anger and becomes the calmer for it in the rest of his life and pond guides him through it all very patiently whilst a) having a Great Time but also b) having a very Bad Time because he’s entering into a non-work intimate-but-not-sexual (yet) relationship with Important But Obnoxious Work Client (who really is less obnoxious once his shoulders unclench)

Also phuwin’s character has a cat that’s as aggressive as he is.

(Ps: maybe it turns out the “victim” was actually paid by one of pw’s competitors to deliberately piss him off to sabotage him or something I don’t know but they discover SOMETHING shady and thus there is plot they can bond over)

(Pps: they fall in love your honour)

[devilmen-collector]

Took me an eternity to finally send this ask cause I'm so shy (•-•)

But please, justice for the Abaddon boys, I need hcs for them 🙏🙏

Can be either sfw or nsfw and I'm a legal adult, tyvm

Also have a good day and I wish you happiness for everyday 🎉

Thank you for the well wishes :3

We don't have much info on Abaddon boys, so I don't think I'll have tok many hcs for them. But I hope you like the few ones I have :D

Warning: some dark demonic stuff

Some Headcanons for Abaddon Devils

Having a big collection of body parts, Ronové knows many ways to preserve them. So he's actually an expert at embalming dead bodies. He's very meticulous when it comes to preserving or embalming a body. The devil considers it an art. Though very few have seen his collection. Consider it a great privilege if you are ever invited to look at his collection. That means he sees you as someone important.

If you ever choose to have Ronové embalm your body after death, he may ask for an organ or two. But don't worry, you still have the option to refuse, unlike the enemies he has killed.

Sometimes, Phenix brings the body parts he chopped off to Ronové because he hopes Ronové can grow his collection. Though not all of them make it to the collection room as they have not been preserved very well by Phenix. However, Ronové appreciates the gesture and counts Phenix as one of his trusted partners.

Dantalian is considered "fashionable", not because he loves fashion itself, but because his weak-looking outfits keep getting damaged or destroyed during his quest to satisfy his kink, so he keeps buying new ones.

Dantalian was gifted a pink bow by Eligos once because the latter learned that the Abaddon devil bought a lot of cute (more like weak-looking) clothes (he didn't know the whole story behind it). Though Dantalian treasures the bow and never worn it to the battlefield to prevent it from being damaged.

Whenever Dantalian goes out to find a way to satisfy his kink, Ronové and Phenix secretly follow him. They care and want to protect Dantalian. It's totally fine to seek pleasure and orgasm, but it's another matter to get yourself killed while trying to seek pleasure. What's the point of pleasure when you are dead?

Phenix wears a special kind of underwear that won't make him feel uncomfortable whenever he has orgasm.

You have to be careful when approaching Phenix. Call out, wave or say hi first, you don't want to make Phenix moan or reach orgasm when you tap on his shoulder while reaching out for him from behind. There's a place and time for that, just not a random saying hello moment.

Although Phenix doesn't seem like it, he cares for those he loves a lot, especially you, "His Majesty Asmodeus", Ronové, and Dantalian. He will chop off anyone who dares to harm you.