#Jason Todd is a power house | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

julymusings · 2 months ago

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you're good to me, baby

with the roar of the fire my heart rose to its feet, like the ashes of ash i saw rise in the heat. settle soft and as pure as snow, i fell in love with the fire long ago.

or; because the red hood bleeding onto your living room carpet is exactly what you need right now [3.6k]

Jason Todd x fem!reader; based on this lovely ask; ngl this turned into a personal vent jason doesn't show up until 1k words in LMAO; warning there’s blood (duh) and reader is suggested to have heavy anxiety; pre-established relationship where reader doesn’t know his identity + muzzle red hood bc HOT

Compartmentalize. Create baskets in your mind. Analyze the situation, and drop the corresponding emotion in the appropriate basket.

One: You had a fight with your best friend. She called you selfish because you weren’t enthusiastic about her new relationship. She just can’t seem to understand that no matter how happy you want to be for her, it’s painful to see everyone find safety in another person when you can’t. Every attempt at romance is squashed by something or the other that you keep doing wrong. I thought you were hot, your latest dating attempt had said when you ran into him and asked why he never texted back. But you’re kind of a lot. Not something I have the space for right now, you know?

Two: There’s an important presentation today, one that could determine the fate of your position in the company. Your coworker, the one who’s convinced you stole his promotion (he just flirted with the higher-ups while you actually completed the requirements), refuses to let you forget how much is at stake. All it takes is one misstep, one stutter, one hesitation, and he will take it as an excuse to demand your demotion— or worse, termination. You’ve been preparing for this presentation for three weeks. If after all that effort it’s still not good enough, maybe you should be fired.

The emotions here? Frustration. Anger. Exhaustion. Jealousy. Just to name a few. But there’s no time to dwell on anxieties right now, so you shove those thoughts aside. Drop them in their compartments and move on because, after all, if you can strip them down to their bones and find where they stem, you can yank those anxieties from the ground before they have the chance to root. And then there’s no need for unnecessary heartache, right?

(Who cares if the baskets are overflowing, crumpled fragments spilling over the sides like garbage in a landfill? Who cares if the room of your mind is so packed that you’re pressed against the wall and breathing becomes painful.)

The digital clock beside your bed reads 6:12. The numbers blink in and out of the window, their red dots and dashes taunting your heavy eyelids. You still have forty-eight minutes of peace before it will scare you awake. Its beeping will ring so loud and angry that the adrenaline from the startle will power you through your morning routine, and your beating heart won’t dare still to entertain wishes of just five more minutes. 6:13 now. You have forty-seven more minutes of peace, minutes which should be spent sleeping, giving your poor brain a break from itself. But you can’t. Every time you close your eyes and begin to sink below the level of consciousness, your heart pumps a house-special cocktail of cortisol that laces through your bloodstream and convinces you that if you fall asleep you will miss your presentation and you will get fired. The off-grid escape plan formulating in your head switches from hypothetical to tentative when your neighbors, apparently awoken to lust as well as tired by it, start going at it again. You want nothing more than to bang on their door and scream obscenities until they hate each other enough to never touch again, but you resign yourself to consciousness, giving up on the dream of what would now be forty-four more minutes of sleep.

It’s Friday morning; only one more day to get through before the sweet release of the weekend finds you. (The whole weekend will be spent contemplating the start of a project, feeling like two days is not nearly long enough to complete anything, and dreading Monday until it finds you with nothing done and the same, endless cycle awaiting.)

After completing your morning routine 44 minutes early, you use the spare time to go through your presentation once more, just for good luck, wrapping up the third run-through just in time to hear your alarm to leave for work.

The presentation goes decent, at least well enough to quell any doubts about your ability to do your job. Your coworker ate his words for sure, and you might have enjoyed the look on his face had you not mentally checked out as soon as you finished your closing remarks. Rush hour traffic has the ice cream tub you bought at the convenience store dripping condensation all over the passenger’s seat and your hips hurt from being in the same sitting position for most of the day, but you remind yourself that peace is only a few miles out. Stopped at yet another red light, your grip tightens on the steering wheel. Breathe in. Breathe out. The line of cars starts to move forward.

When you get home, your frustration is close to boiling over. You kick off your shoes right at the door, your keys and bag following close behind.

Far be it from you to break down on the floor in the middle of the room, the plan begins to formulate. There’s a box of tissues on your desk– that can go on the nightstand, along with two of the chilled water bottles you keep in the fridge for after you work out. And you’ll need something for the tissues, right? The small wastebasket from the bathroom should be fine. You drag it over to the side of your bed, sitting in your usual spot to make sure you placed it at a reachable distance. You won’t want to get out of bed to wash your face after this, so a washcloth should go next to the tissues. And an extra one, just to be safe.

You keep a set of comfortable clothes ready, the nicest, softest pajamas you own that you only wear after an everything shower. This shower, however, is a quick one, not much more than a few minutes under scalding water to comfort you, if nothing else. The light pink pajamas are a high-quality cotton and you feel like you’re in the clouds when you slip into them. Remaining is the ice cream, which you set out on the counter right before your shower so it would thaw just enough to be soft but not melted, With everything in your room ready, you go to retrieve the ice cream but stop with a startle when you round the corner.

“Jesus,” you mumble.

He’s just sitting there, doing nothing except bleeding out on your cream-colored carpet. He’s spread out on the couch like he owns the place, head leaned back against the wall as he lets his injured arm hang over the armrest and drip blood and dirt onto your cream-colored rug. The liquid seeps into the expensive wool, staining it with reddish-brown hues and the scent of iron, and he doesn’t even notice.

“Hey.” The Red Hood lifts his head when he sees you.

On any other day, you’d be quick to action, hauling him up off the couch and sprinting for the first aid kit under the bathroom sink. Today, your arms are too heavy and your gaze remains rooted on the widening splotch of red against white. Your throat feels dry. “You’re getting blood on the carpet.”

He peers over the armrest. “Oh, shit,” he curses, lifting his arm to hover it over his lap. He sounds robotic through his muzzle mask. His hood, pulled down to reveal his thick black hair curling at the ends from humidity and sweat, rests on his back.

I don’t have time for this, is what you want to say. You want to scream it in his face and kick him out for having the audacity to think he can come and go as he pleases, that you’re nothing more than a drive-through emergency room who will drop everything if he gets so much as a paper cut. But you can’t say any of this, and you do want him to come to you whenever he needs help. God knows he won’t go anywhere else.

Holding back your heavy sigh, you wordlessly walk to the bathroom. He takes that as an invitation to follow.

It’s clinical. Rehearsed. Neither of you speak. It’s a partnered dance long since committed to muscle memory, steps you can take in your sleep. He knows to seat himself on the step stool you got just for him, for nights like these. He knows where to find the first aid kit and which supplies to hand you first. You know the exact steps to follow. Check the palms for abrasions. Antiseptic to the lacerations. Concussion exam.

Maybe he can sense the air of tension surrounding you, because he doesn’t say as much as he usually does (though, granted, it’s still not much). It’s a reflection of your dynamic several months earlier when this arrangement began, back before you’d managed to chip away at the surface of his rough exterior. You notice the way his fingers curl against his thighs when you, somewhat carelessly, wipe the dirt from his skin with more pressure than necessary and the way his eyebrows tilt inward when you work slower than usual. You notice, but you ignore it.

We both know you have at least a dozen people who could do this for you. The words echo in your mind. Don’t act like I owe you this. If anything, you owe me a new carpet. These are things you wish you could say, but never will. Being realistic, you’ll probably never be able to say things like this. You’ll be subjected to all the shitty coworkers and unsympathetic friends and exploitative vigilantes of the world for the rest of your life.

This isn’t his fault, you remind yourself, but still, your lips turn down and your jaw feels tight with the effort to keep your face still, to not burst into tears right on the spot. In the second it takes for you to calm yourself, your hands pause. He notices. He says nothing.

It’s not until you’re finished with cleaning the blood from his arm wound and giving him a wad of gauze to hold against it that he tests the waters and asks, “Is it too bad?”

He sounds automated, but over the last few months, you’ve learned a thing or two about reading even these robotic actions. There's a certain quietness to the beginning of his sentence like he’s debating if he should say it or not.

“It’s fine,” you say, shortly.

“Sorry about your rug,” he says. He tugs at the strap of his muzzle with one finger, rubbing at the skin underneath the leather. “I can get the stain out.”

You retrieve the needle and thread from the kit and don’t respond. You don’t even look at him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he continues. “It’s easy. You just need salt and—”

“Okay.”

He goes quiet.

You don’t mean to be so tetchy, but you don’t have the energy for anything more. Every little thing has you feeling on the edge of shattering. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

It’s when you’re kneeled at his side, staring into the gaping wound on his bicep and trying to thread the needle, fingers trembling from the chill of the tiled floor with nothing but a layer of thin cotton to keep you warm, that it happens. He shifts on the stool, a mere twitch in an attempt to get comfortable, but it brushes his bloody arm against yours. Flecks of fresh red on the light pink fabric. First your carpet, now your pajamas. Your favorite, special, extra soft matching cotton pajama set, a rare splurge after your promotion that stood out among old t-shirts and sweat shorts. Ruined. Again, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Did I say something?” Hood asks. He waits for your response, but when none comes, he adds, “I’m sorry if I did.” He speaks so quietly you may not have been able to separate his words from the whirring filter of his mask, if not for the chilling silence of the bathroom floor. The insulating brick walls of your old apartment building are something you’re usually grateful for, but tonight you find yourself wishing for the city’s commotion to seep through the walls. Something, anything to buffer his proximity to you.

You hear his inhale as he prepares to say something else.

“Can you just let me work?” You snap before he has the chance to speak again. It’s loud, louder than you’d ever dream of speaking to him, and he flinches. Your eyes shut in apology, but only for a moment before you get back to it. He looks away. His feet point towards the door.

He wants to leave, you can tell, and you don’t blame him. You just messed everything up. But you started this, so now you have to finish it.

You sit in silence for the several minutes it takes for you to clean his wound and stop the bleeding.

He’s not looking at you, gaze transfixed ahead of him on a chip in the paint. At least, you assume. It’s difficult to guess what’s going on behind the milky white covering over his eyes. His subtle body language can be read if you pay close enough attention, you’ve learned, but that’s not something you care to do right now.

(Maybe you noticed in the back of your mind that he’s not exhibiting any body language since you snapped at him, but the compartment in your head for guilt is already overflowing, so maybe you didn’t notice it, you tell yourself.)

You stare at your sleeve, at the patches of blood blooming like ink blots. The red and pink hues blend together behind your blurring vision. You sniffle.

“Are you—” Hood starts. Because now he’s looking at you.

“Excuse me,” you say, pushing yourself off the ground and stumbling out of the room without so much as a glance back at him. You stagger into your room, needle and thread still in hand, and push the door closed. The lights are off, and the darkness is calming, quieting your buzzing thoughts. You close your eyes and lean against the door. Breathe in. Breathe out. You continue this exercise, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth to soothe your sympathetic nervous system, the same way a therapist instructed that one time you went. You wipe away the moisture that has collected in your eyes, roll out your stiff neck, dry your sweaty palms over your thighs. You toss the needle and thread aside, because they are definitely not sterile anymore, and take a few more breaths before opening the door and going back to the bathroom.

You avoid his face, following the lines of grimy grout between the tiles before resuming to your spot at his side. His inspecting eyes burn on the side of your face. You wipe down the forceps with a sterilizing wipe and rip open the plastic packaging for a new needle, holding it up to the wound, but your hand refuses to steady.

Another deep breath. Then another.

Hood sighs. It’s almost chastising. “I think I should go.”

“What?” You’re just surprised enough to be torn away from your thoughts and look him in the eye (mask) for the first time all night.

“You can’t do this,” he says, gruffly. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll let you figure it out.”

You scoff. “Yes, I can. I’m fine.”

Before he can argue, you grab him by the wrist to hold him in place just as he starts moving to get up. He winces, but you keep your grip tight on him. You can feel his scrutiny through the cold, expressionless barrier of his disguise, practically track his pupils as they search your face.

You both pretend he couldn’t break from your hold in an instant if he wanted to.

“You’re shaking,” Hood says. His voice is much softer now.

You follow the turn of his head to your hand where it hovers the needle right over his skin. You are shaking. Trembling, in fact.

“No, I’m not.” It comes out as an empty whisper.

You focus all your strength on steadying yourself, but the harder you try to stabilize, the harder you tremor. Your other hand releases his wrist to clamp over your dominant hand and force it to stay in place. It guides the needle closer to the skin, but now your vision is blurring. You blink rapidly, but it’s not enough. The tears start falling. You look away from him, but a warm hand settles over yours. You don’t dare look at him, unable to bear showing him your shameful face, wet and blushing and screwed up in misery. You turn your face into your sleeve. Clamp your eyes shut tight, thinking maybe if you keep them closed, this darkness will swallow you up and he won’t be here anymore.

But the warmth of his skin on yours is the first feeling of softness, of relief you’ve felt in months, and then it’s gone. Your shoulders are shaking, quaking with the effort to keep your sobs quiet.

One finger ever so gently hooks around your chin, pulling it back up to face him. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see him see you like this, but the tears are still streaming. He brushes them away. Whether that makes it better or worse, you can’t be sure, because you cry even harder, snatching your face away from his grasp to muffle your sobs into the back of your hand. You don’t realize he’s pushed himself off his stool to sit cross-legged on the floor until you feel his hand circling your arm and pulling you closer. The tools in your hand clatter on the floor as your palms come up to press against his chest, fighting against him with half-hearted protests murmured through your cries. But even with only one good arm he’s too strong for you, and you’re pulled into him.

He’s so gentle with you, rubbing your back and resting his chin atop your head while you cry and cry and cry into his shirt. Several minutes pass like this, with your face buried in his chest and his good arm holding you tightly against him while the other dangles lamely at his side, throbbing with an intensity he’s trying to ignore.

When your sobs die down, and you’re sure you’re all cried out, you linger against him. He smells like smoke and gasoline, and his shirt is soft and warm from his body heat seeping through. His hand continues to stroke up and down the length of your back, even after you’ve quieted. The edge of his mask digs into your scalp where his chin sits, but it feels worth it. Your hands, still pressed to his chest, slide higher, completely of their own volition, out of a newfound desire to wrap your arms around his neck. You don’t hear it, but you can feel his sharp draw of breath, his chest rising quickly under your touch. Your hands lose their nerve at his clavicle as you hold your breath for fear of the smallest movement drawing attention to your forwardness. You wait for him to rebuff you, to lean away from your touch, or grab your wrists and pry them off. He doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. His chest finally falls.

Eyes opening, your thumb swipes over the edge of the red bat symbol just below his collarbone.

His movements pause, lightly gripping the fabric of your shirt for just a moment, before releasing it. “It’s alright,” he tells you.

You pull back from his chest to look at him, the way his cold and unfeeling expression stares back at you. You wonder from time to time what’s under the mask, but tonight the desire is overwhelming; you ache with the want to know what he looks like. The color of his eyes. What his mouth looks like when he winces over a deep cut or chuckles at one of your anecdotes. You wonder if his lips are soft or chapped. If he’d like it if you dragged your thumb across the bottom one.

The metallic odor spreading through the room brings you back to the present, and you hope the flush from your tears hides your cheeks’ growing heat when you realize where your mind had wandered.

“Oh, fuck, your arm.” You speak in a watery voice, wiping at your face as the urgency returns to your senses. Though you try to move away, his firm hand on your back pulls you back in.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, resuming his caresses up and down your back. “I can take care of it.”

“Then why do you even need me?” You sniffle with a small smile.

He stays silent. But when you search his face, waiting for an answer, his hand moves to your side, palm sliding a fraction of an inch closer to your waist and fingers tensing, you can almost see through the mechanical muzzle to the way his lips shape the words. At least, he wishes you could.

You know why.

this was lots of fun to write and thank u for your patience ik i said i was gonna "knock this out in a day" 2 weeks ago😬😬 also we're gonna pretend they aren't just letting his open wound marinate for half an hour when it should be getting stitched up bc it's fiction ok? everyone say thank you mostly-imagines for proofreading this😚

but anyway happy new year!! it's been barely 2 months but starting this account made my year so much better🫶🫶🫶and ty for 500 followers that's crazy🫣🫢

listen to the inspo song!!!

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miryum · 6 months ago

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☆ miryum's dc universe☆

Neighbour!Jason Todd who wasn’t home when you first moved in. If he was, he would’ve offered to help with the heavy furniture. Alfred raised a gentleman, of course. But no, he was off in a safe house, nursing a wound from last night's patrol. A bullet had grazed his side and it was leaving a nasty ache

Neighbour!Jason Todd who then didn’t mean to wake you when he crashed into his apartment that night, via window. How could he know that someone had just moved into the apartment next door and was startling at every bump in the night?

Neighbour!Jason Todd who was very surprised when he, still in his Red Hood gear, heard someone knock on the door soon after. A very sweet voice called out, “hello? I just want to check that you’re okay? I know it’s not my place and you might be a serial killer, but just wanted to make sure you’re not having a heart attack.”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who threw off his helmet and voice modulator before clearing his throat and calling out, “nope! No, I’m fine. Uh… thank you?”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who breathed a sigh of relief when the voice responded, “oh, okay. I- I’m sorry. Good night.”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who stood up, even though his bullet wound cried out against it. He wasn’t sure why he stood, for he could already hear your footsteps departing. His face twisted into one of confusion, both at his reaction, and the fact that someone had come to check up on him. The majority of his neighbours didn’t care

Neighbour!Jason Todd who next met you when he was going to get the mail. He saw you outside the lobby door, crouching down. His curiosity got the better of him and he stepped outside during dusk in Gotham, something no citizen should ever do

Neighbour!Jason Todd who found out that you were feeding the street cats. You were fucking feeding the street cats. There were at least six cats surrounding you, weaving in between your legs as you set down a bowl of milk and some cat food. He cleared his throat and you looked up at him, already smiling. How could someone in Gotham smile? At him? His long sleeves, while hiding his physical scars, surely couldn’t cover the anxiety and trauma embedded deep within him. “What… what are you doing?” he asked softly

Neighbour!Jason Todd who simply stared at you as you responded, “I’m feeding the cats.” After a pause, you added, “they were meowing at me when I came home from work so I picked up some cat food from the store and brought it back to them. Aren’t they just adorable?” You reached out to pet one who gladly turned on its belly for you

Neighbour!Jason Todd who asked, “you know, they do that to everyone? They’re smart enough to know a new face that’ll feed them.” And then he mentally kicked himself because now this girl thought he was pessimistic and didn’t feed the cats. Then you shrugged and everything seemed better. “Yeah, I know, but they look so hungry…” The way your lips tilted to the side made Jason want to stare at them forever

Neighbour!Jason Todd who almost offered to adopt the cats because that meant that you would come over to his apartment to see them

Neighbour!Jason Todd who then rubbed the back of his neck and announced, “my name is Jason.”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who melted when you laughed lightly and introduced yourself. He knew he had found the one

Neighbour!Jason Todd who then became much more aware of your presence in the apartment building. It wasn’t hard to piece together your routine (which you should think of changing regularly because it would be too easy for a criminal to figure it out) and if that meant Jason went to go on runs every now and then that coincided with your grocery trips, then it was a coincidence. He would grab his mail the same time you did. He would take more care to not make as much noise when he returned after vigilante nights, as to not wake you. It was the little things, he reasoned, that would make you notice him

Neighbour!Jason Todd who didn’t know what to do when the power went out. Of course, he had his survival kit ready and stocked with a flashlight, provisions, a blanket, a portable charger, and numerous weapons. He was ready to wait it out, but he didn’t know what to do when it came to you. Should he go over and check on you? Or would that seem like he thought you couldn’t handle yourself?

Neighbour!Jason Todd who didn’t have to worry for long because a soft, rapid knock came at the door. He wasn’t surprised when you were there, small flashlight in hand. “Does this happen often?” is the first thing you asked. Jason huffed a laugh and replied with his own question, “is this your first time in Gotham?”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who invited you into his apartment. He wasn’t sure whether or not to count this as a first date, but you were soon bundled in his blankets and asking questions about his personal life, so that was like a date, right? He hadn’t been on many and didn’t intend to now that he met you

Neighbour!Jason Todd who did not know what to do when you fell asleep on his couch. Holy shit. Fuck. What should he do? He didn’t want you to think he assaulted you while you were sleeping, so for a couple minutes he sat in his kitchen, watching you wearily and putting as much distance between the two of you as possible. But then he didn’t like the distance between you, so it was a real conundrum

Neighbour!Jason Todd who instead sat awkwardly on his ottoman, watching TV with the volume muted and subtitles on

Neighbour!Jason Todd who didn’t even leave for patrol when the other members of the Batfam asked for help. The blackout was causing Gotham to run wild, but Jason was content with locking the doors and making sure you were comfy

Neighbour!Jason Todd who was still sitting on that ottoman when you woke up in the morning. He carefully evaded your questions on whether he slept and instead decided to make you breakfast. When you complimented his breakfast over and over, joking how you would have to come over more often if it meant his cooking, Jason agreed maybe a bit too quickly

Neighbour!Jason Todd who was the neighbour you then called on if you had a package arriving during work hours and needed someone to sign it. He was the neighbour you didn’t mind seeing in the halls because a chat with him wasn’t seen as uncomfortable. He was the neighbour you asked to help repair the sink (you got a very lovely image of his shirt riding up as he laid underneath your sink and maybe it was because you were ovulating but oh god did you want to jump his bones). He was the neighbour who, when he found out you liked similar movies, stumbled over his words to invite you to watch them with him

Neighbour!Jason Todd who actually didn’t love the genre of movies you did, but would like them if it meant seeing you

Neighbour!Jason Todd who wasn’t sure what your relationship status was with him and it ate away at him almost every moment of the day. You were always in the back of his mind, always making his heart warm

Neighbour!Jason Todd who tried to coax you back to your apartment after you returned home one night, stumbling and intoxicated. But you didn’t want to. You were firmly standing in his doorway and kept blabbering about meaningless things. When he finally convinced you to rest on his couch, you declared, stumbling over your words, “see? This is why I like you Jason. You- you’re a- a very- You’re a very good person.” You then reached up and patted his cheek. “Love you, bye-bye.” And you promptly fell asleep

Neighbour!Jason Todd who was then in a state of shock of the next three hours

Neighbour!Jason Todd who ended up calling Alfred at four in the morning, prompting the older man to think the ex-Robin was kidnapped and needed help. As it turned out, Jason needed help, but with a girl; not a crime lord. Alfred sent Jason off with a few words of wisdom and luck, the most notable being, “Master Jason, if the girl does not return your feelings, then you can simply move out of your apartment and back into the Manor.” Jason thought that was a worse fate than you rejecting him

Neighbour!Jason Todd who was very patient the next morning, giving you painkillers and a large glass of water. When you remembered the previous night, mortified, he tried to calm you down, eyes worried that you would leave him. He wasn’t sure what he would do if you left his life

Neighbour!Jason Todd who, in a mess of panic and embarrassment, managed to blurt out, “no, wait! I- I want you to stay. Please. I know you didn’t mean your words last night, but I really like having you in my life. Can’t we… be friends?” It broke his heart to suggest it, but he’d be willing to keep that platonic bond if it didn’t drive you away

Neighbour!Jason Todd who waited, heart in his throat, when the seconds ticked by and you didn’t answer. “But I did mean them,” you finally whispered out. “I like you, Jason. And I wanna do something about that.”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who stammered and spluttered, “well, then, let’s do something.”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who took you out on dates every week and didn’t know what to do when you found the Red Hood gear in his closet when you were searching for a hoodie to steal

Neighbour!Jason Todd who wasn’t expecting you to laugh, of all things. “I guessed,” is all you said. And that’s when Jason kissed you for the first time

Neighbour!Jason Todd who became a staple in your life, not only because you two lived in the same building, but because of how amazing he was. There were no other words to describe it. It was like the man knew your needs before you did and fulfilled them just because he wanted to. He was the epitome of “princess treatment”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who was scared for you to sleep over for the first time because of his nightmares but found out that when your head was on his bicep (cutting off circulation to his fingers), and your body was tucked into his, hair messy and lips slightly parted, that he didn’t have nightmares. It was like you scared them all away, just by being there

Neighbour!Jason Todd who wanted you to sleep over much more frequently

Neighbour!Jason Todd who made it a habit to buy cat food at the grocery store because you still insisted on feeding those damn cats after months of living in Gotham. Nevermind that the cats had found which apartment you lived in and climbed up to the window via the fire escape. Nevermind that the cats realised that when you weren’t in your apartment, you were most likely in Jasons. And nevermind that he now had cats outside his window almost 24/7 that he begrudgingly fed because who was he if not subject to you or Damian’s rants about feeding the fucking cats

Neighbour!Jason Todd who just liked to touch you. He liked to be reminded that he was much bigger than you and his body could swallow yours up whilst cuddling on the couch. He liked to put his arm around your shoulder and trace patterns on your skin. He liked to hug you tightly from behind because it reminded him that you were there and you were his. He liked to do this in public too – not huge amounts of PDA, but a hand on the waist or slipped in your back pocket. A hand on the small of your back when crossing streets. Reaching out behind him to grab your hand while walking through large crowds

Neighbour!Jason Todd who, a year later, signed the lease to your apartment, so that now you were neighbours who shared a bed and a bathroom and a home

#miryum's dc universe #jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #headcanon #neighbour au #we love jason todd #dc x reader #dcu #jason todd didn't die #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 1 year ago

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De-Aged Danny, gesturing to a dazed Bruce inside Wayne Manor: And this is Bruce! Otherwise known as the Himbo! Reporters: Hmm, yes, interesting... Bruce: What the- Danny: I'm not sure what that word means. I heard it from Dick, but no one will give me my answer, not even Jason, who is easily bribed. Bruce: Why are there reporters in my house!? Danny, innocent and childlike: They asked to come inside, Bruce! They seemed like really nice people, so I thought it'd be polite to give them a tour. Bruce, filled with infinite patience: I really wish you had asked me before you did that, chum. Danny: But why? We don't have anything to hide... do we, Bruce?

Or, in order to rise to the Ghost Throne, Danny has to complete a series of trials to prove he is capable of ruling (or any other reason, Danny just needs to do trials to prove himself).

The last trial, issued by Clockwork, is thus: discover the Wayne Family secret in two weeks without the use of any of his powers.

He has one shapeshift to pick a form that could endere him to the Waynes, but only one before he starts and he has to get close to the family by his own wits. Danny, after studying the family and reading of one sentence summary of each Wayne, picks the body of a six-year-old little boy that looked like a child Jason Todd.

Bruce: That child is up to something. Dick, third favorite: I don't know, Bruce; he acts like a normal kid. Jason, #1 favorite: I doubt the old man's ever met a normal kid. Tim, least favorite: Bruce is right, but can you please not talk like the villains from Chicken Run.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #de-aged danny #danny thinks the trials happen in simulations in the GZ #he has no idea they were alternate realities each time #c: danny fenton #c: bruce wayne #c: dick grayson #c: jason todd #jason is favorite since danny is convinced that his “death” has to do with the Secret #and also for being completely 100% ok with throwing down with a child #tim is least favorite because he's too suspicious #damian is second favorite for also being 100% ok with throwing down with a child #dick is tearfully trying to gentle parent jason into being a good big brother #all “you're going to be such a good big brother let me teach you.”#which jason doesn't NEED but is kinda flattered that dick has so much faith in him to be a big bro

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stealingyourbones · 3 months ago

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Mr. Mxyzptlk decides to have some fun and decides it’s time for some bodyswapping shenanigans. Behold, a list of varying bodyswaps I think would be neat to explore:

—

Jack Fenton and Clark Kent

Jack being Jack and getting used to his powers and being INCREDIBLY confused that he woke up NOT in his bed, not next to his incredible wife, and assuming this is a ghosts shenanigans. Clark is freaking out because he’s human, not next to HIS incredible wife, assumes this is a Mxyzptlk plot, and cements himself as an incredibly good father figure with Danny and Jazz, reaching out to other Supers for help to teach Jack the ropes and to wait out whatever Mxy has done.

—

Artemis swapping with Jazz

during an Outlaws mission and DURING some test for Jazz. Both freak out, both have to adjust to the other persons strengths and abilities, and Jason and Bizzaro have to calm a very confused and scared teenager who’s in an Amazonian body. While Danny’s friends are DESPERATELY trying to stop Artemis from throwing hands with every ghost she sees.

—

Johnny 13 and Jason Todd

Jason Todd is dead again. Not Good. Johnny is alive again. This ROCKS! Jason’s Red Hood goons lock him up because their boss is clearly compromised. Jason figures a way out of the Ghost Zone and asks Phantom for help. Along with having to acclimate to being able to control a sentient shadow and ghostly powers, Jason is in for a doozy. Johnny on the other hand, is going through many many attempts to escape Red Hood’s room and failing… until Red Robin crashes through a window. Apparently he should have answered the calls on Red Hood’s phone. Red Robin near instantly clocks that whoever is in Jason’s body, isn’t Jason. Ok, time to bring Not Jason to the Batcave to figure out what’s going on.

—

Vlad Masters and Alfred Pennyworth

Instant character change from both parties. Alfred is midway through talking to Bruce about over exerting himself and Vlad is midway through nearly successfully capturing Phantom.

—

Paulina and Wonder Woman

Paulina having to adjust with Amazonian strength and being lassoed by another party to figure out what’s happening in full (prolly Batman and his paranoid ass wanting the absolute truth <3). Diana having to adjust with being an average teenage girl who’s also high up on the Highschool food chain and pretending nothing is wrong until she can contact the League to figure out what just happened.

—

Tucker Foley and Dick Grayson:

Tucker swapping with Dick while Dick is at the Batcave. He’s too busy marveling at the tech and not really registering that he’s Not In His Body until he hears a roar of a motorcycle somewhere in the distance (One of the Batfamily coming back to the cave), and his reality comes crashing down. Tucker is mid ghost capture when Dick swaps with him and realizes VERY quickly that he’s not in his body and proceeds to go “fuck it. This hero he doesn’t know is genuinely struggling and he needs to blend in until he knows what’s going on. Dick doesn’t know this guys fighting capabilities but he has to AT LEAST know how to dodge well and aim well (Spoiler alert: Tucker doesn’t.

—

Danny Fenton and Martian Manhunter

DANNY IS AN ALIEN! THIS IS THE COOLEST THING EVER!!… Danny also has absolutely no idea how to shapeshift so he’s stuck in J’onn’s true Martian form and uncontrollably shapeshifting random parts of his body out of stress because he can hear *everyones thoughts* within a few miles. Danny’s grown to be a quick learner with powers but with all this noise he just. Can’t. Concentrate. J’onn doing his damndest to act as a regular human boy while not panicking about having absolutely zero telepathy. He’s told the boy’s friends after they noticed something wrong. He found out midway on the walk to Sam’s house that J’onn can turn invisible quite easily. It’s not the same as it is in his body but it’s not too different, kind of like flexing a different sequence of muscles to create the same movement.

#Mxyzptlk is a very chaotic being so I avoided Danny and Batfam as much as humanly possible bc this man wants chaos and not the common #situations they get thrown in. he’s a fifth dimensional being. he knows about fanfic tropes and dpxdc 100%#I LOVE the Jack and Clark one if someone uses it I’d love you forever #dpxdc #danny phantom #dp x dc #bones prompts

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rambling-at-midnight · 7 months ago

Text

Don't Go Disappearing On Me Again

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Jason's lost too much to lose you, too. (We stan healthy communication in this house)

Word count: 2.3k

Ow.

You've never worked Friday nights before at the restaurant, and you never want to again. And you'd thought Saturday mornings were bad.

But one of your favorite coworkers had called you in a panic early this morning, begging you to take her shift, because her lab group's department at GCU was going out to bowling and it would be a great networking opportunity. You were the last person she called, but everyone else before you had declined because they were either scheduled or determined to avoid the shitshow.

And because you were weak, you gave in and said you would cover her Friday night shift as long as she covered your Friday morning shift.

So you two swapped shifts, and you went into your library internship in the morning instead of the evening. It wasn't a particularly hard job, but end-of-week returns had you dashing all over the three floors, so your feet already hurt before you walked into the restaurant.

Right before coming in, you'd texted Jason that you'd gotten held up, and it was a good thing you did, because you haven't had a single break to look at your phone the whole shift. He likely wasn't even awake yet—last night's patrol had been tough on the both of you, him because he came home half beaten to death, and you because you'd had a heart attack waking up in the middle of the night to your bloody boyfriend passing out on top of you in bed. But you usually got home around six from the library, and it was looking like you wouldn't be back until ten at the earliest, so you wanted to let him know. It was going on hour seven after starting at two p.m., when the restaurant switched from its brunch to dinner menu. Personally, you think two p.m. is obscenely early to eat dinner, but apparently rich people loved eating at weird hours, because you had had nonstop tables the entire night.

But the good thing is that the restaurant closes at nine, so you’re almost there. After your last three tables eat and leave, all you have to do is clean your section, close your checks, and clock out.

In the kitchen, you lean against the fridge, rubbing your hips and knees. You’re a little too young to feel so creaky after seven hours on your feet. After all, Jason works all night, doing athletic feats you could never dream of.

You can't really complain, though. You'd gotten lucky with your tables; they'd all tipped well. Maybe you could even add a little bit to your savings account instead of shoving every paycheck right at your student loans, which just keep growing, no matter how much you pay.

“Oh, no,” says Charlotte, one of the other veteran servers at the restaurant. She’s staring at the camera feed display, which is tuned to a livestream of the restaurant’s entranceway. “Don’t you dare seat me now, Ashley, I swear to God.”

“What time is it?” your head jerks up. “We’re about to close, right? Is someone looking for a table?”

“Yeah,” she says, pointing to the screen. “The hottest man in the world just walked in our front door.”

You just hum, not bothering to look in favor of pulling out your phone. You know for a fact that the hottest man in the world is actually at home in your bed right now. “The kitchen’s stopped receiving tickets. No way Ashley seats someone right now.” The screen doesn't light up when you click the power button. Well, shit. It's dead.

“I can’t tell what he’s saying.” Charlotte squints at the screen. “He’s, like, huge. Does Ashley look a little scared to you?”

You’re out of the kitchen without even looking at the screen. You speedmarch right past your tables, ignoring one man’s halfhearted attempts to flag you down for more ketchup. A righteous fire is boiling in your gut. You’ve been here long enough that the managers won’t fire you for telling off any customers that harass the younger workers that are more scared to stand up for yourself.

Your mouth is already open, ready to spew forth the beginning of your tirade, when you recognize the man in front of Ashley at the host stand.

Dressed in gray sweats and a dark T-shirt, slouching slightly, he looks even worse than when you kissed his forehead goodbye that morning. The bruise on Jason's face has properly colored now, purple and blue along his jawline. His hair looks a little flat, like he's been wearing his helmet, which is strange.

Jason's eyes snap onto you the second you appear, and you falter at the intensity there. Something has happened, but you're not sure what.

"Hey," you say, a little hesitant. "What's up?"

Ashley exhales with relief. "So you do know him."

"Yeah," you say without breaking eye contact with Jason, who's staring at you with the same expression you think a wolf would wear when stalking a hare. "He's my boyfriend."

You expect Jason to tell you that someone was in an accident. Someone's in the hospital. Something terrible happened to your apartment while you were gone.

He says none of those things. Instead, Jason says, "I didn't know you picked up a Friday shift."

Ashley's face goes blank.

"I told you I would be home late."

“No,” he corrects. “You texted me that you were being held up.”

“Yeah, at work.”

“And then you disappeared.” Jason’s jaw clenched. “Did you know that a bank was held up this afternoon? Your bank?”

“Oh, shit,” your hand flies up to cover your mouth. “My phone died, I don’t know when. You couldn’t check my location and see I was here?”

He just shakes his head, stiff and wordless.

“Hey, Y/N.” It’s your manager approaching the host stand now, customer service smile on and eyes taking in Jason’s appearance. “What’s going on up here?”

“Hey, Steve,” you say. “Sorry, this is my boyfriend Jason—Jay, this is my manager, Steve—”

Jason gets the hint and smiles close-lipped, reaching to shake Steve’s hand.

“My phone died so he came to see if I needed a ride home.”

“As soon as your tables leave and your section’s clean, you’re good to go. Oh, and you have to roll silverware.”

“It’ll be at least another hour,” you say apologetically to Jason.

“Okay.” His eyes keep boring into you like he’s trying to send you a telepathic message. He’s mad, you get it, but it makes you a little mad, too. You’re a grown adult. Yeah, the miscommunication was your fault, and it’s fine for him to be worried, but he looks close to Red Hood levels of anger, which is totally unwarranted for this situation. “Is it cool if I wait at the bar for you, then?”

“Of course!” Steve answers for you. "Our bartender, Lacy, will be happy to serve you while you wait." He checks his watch. "Until last call, that is."

"He didn't scare you, did he?" you ask Ashley as soon as Steve leaves. You smile at Jason, trying to tease him, but his expression doesn't twitch. "He looks mean, but I promise he's a big ol' softie."

Jason just grunts, but on his way to the bar, he doesn't forget to drop a kiss to your forehead. It warms you from the inside out.

As soon as he's gone, Ashley blurts out, "What happened to his face?"

"Motorcycle accident," you fib. "Oh, my table's calling me."

You rush over to take care of the poor man's ketchup—he's been waiting almost five whole minutes—and check out another party. The back of your neck prickles as you do. Every time you glance at the bar, Jason's green eyes are locked on your every move. It flusters you so much that when your table leaves, they say thanks, and you respond with, "Good morning!"

"What?"

"Thanks, you too!"

You run back to the kitchen, and everyone immediately starts interrogating you about your 'huge hunky boyfriend' (Charlotte's words, not yours).

By some miracle, all your tables clear out by closing time, and you’re out by 9:20. There are still a couple people at the bar, but Jason’s up immediately to walk out with you, leaving his water glass on the counter.

He doesn’t say anything, though you can feel his eyes on you whenever you aren’t looking. You won’t fight in public, so you follow his lead and stay quiet.

He drove your car to pick you up, and even though he’s obviously mad, he holds the passenger door open for you before getting into the driver’s seat.

The drive home is silent. He parks in the spot for your shared apartment, then immediately, quietly, asks, “Why’d you pick up a shift without telling me?”

"It was super last-minute," you say. He's still facing forward, so you do the same, eyeing his profile out of the corner of your eyes. "Like, it happened this morning. I thought you were sleeping, so I didn't want to blow up your phone with texts. I thought you'd just check my location and see where I was when you woke up."

Jason's hand clenches on the center console. "I woke up and I was terrified."

"I'm sorry—"

"And the bank, and your wording, and your phone was off—"

"I know," you say, putting your hand over his fist. He unclenches immediately to lace his fingers with yours. "I'll make sure I tell you next time."

Jason takes a deep breath in, then lets it out. In a rush, he finally turns to face you and says, "I don't mean to be controlling."

You blink. "I don't think you're being controlling."

"You don't?" Jason frowns. "Then why were you so mad when I walked into your work?"

"Mad? I'm not mad—you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, what are you talking about?"

"You've been glaring this whole time! And you didn't say a word this entire car ride."

"Because I thought you were angry. I wanted to give you space."

"Okay, wait, wait, wait." You hold up a hand. "Let me get this straight. You're not mad at me?"

"No," he says earnestly. "I was worried and scared, but you're an adult. You don't have to ask for permission if you want to pick up a shift at work." He makes a face like the thought disgusts him.

"Okay," you say. "Okay, well if you're not mad at me, I'm not mad at you, either."

"Then why did you look so pissed when I walked in?"

You press your lips together to keep from smiling. "Well, we have cameras that show us up front while we're in the kitchen, right? One of my coworkers was watching and said 'the hottest man in the world' walked in and I didn't look because I thought the hottest guy in the world was still asleep in my bed—"

Jason covers his face with his hands. You can't stop your smile now, and you pull them away so you can look at said handsome face. "And I didn't even look because I'm such a loyal, awesome partner—"

"You are pretty awesome," he agrees, trying to sound serious, but he's grinning like an idiot, too. His cheeks are flushed pink.

"I know I am. But then Charlotte said that the hostess, Ashley, looked a little intimidated by him, so I walked out to see if she needed help."

"Aw," Jason says. He lowers his chin to look at you from underneath his lashes, pretty as a picture. "Were you going to give me a stern talking-to?"

"I can still give you one," you offer.

"Maybe later."

He's still grinning, and you're still grinning, so the both of you are grinning at each other like idiots in the car.

You want to kiss him, and he's your boyfriend. You're allowed to do that whenever the two of you want, so you take Jason by the chin and pull his mouth to yours.

Jason sighs against you, and it's like all the tension in his body melts away. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw, the other on the back of your head.

You break away to murmur, "Are you patrolling tonight?" He's still so beaten up.

"No," he whispers, voice low and gravelly in a way that has butterflies whipping around like a tornado in your stomach.

"Good. Wanna go up and be the hottest patient in the world while I look at your wounds?"

"Only if you're the hottest nurse in the world."

"Oh, but then who will be the hottest chef in the world who makes dinner?"

"The hot chef is on vacation right now," Jason joked. "But I can be a really hot food-orderer. What takeout are you in the mood for?"

"You're the injured one. What do you want?"

"I want whatever you want."

You narrow your eyes in a glare. "Well, I want whatever you want."

"You gotta make a decision," he says, already on his phone. "You're the hottest decision-maker in the world, I'm the hottest food-orderer."

"Chinese?"

"You got it."

Right before he dials the number, you grab him and kiss him again. When you pull back, he chases after your lips. It's so tempting that you give him another firm peck before you pat his chest once.

Jason blinks twice, looking dazed. "What was that for?"

You shrug. "I just wanted to kiss the hottest man in the world."

"Oh, my God." He groans and covers his face again, but you can see his red ears. "You're never gonna let that go?"

"Mmm." You pretend to consider it. "No."

DC taglist:

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

Forever taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

#reader insert #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd fic

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 10 months ago

Text

DPxDC prompt. Fae!Danny x Jason. Dead on main. Death of a Fairy Tale. or

"Oh no! This tricky hooman stole my heart! What should I do?" *becomes a leader of his court and, just in case, overthrows the tyrant Pariah Dark in order to allow marriages with representatives of other races and live happily ever after with Jay*.

~~~~~

“You're not allowed to be here. This is not your territory.”

Jason barely had time to catch his breath after escaping from the hot dog vendor when someone noticed him hiding in the bushes.

There were no rides for children or food vans in this park, so Todd didn't understand why anyone would cling to this territory but the guy looked at him with obvious concern. And well, after the morning's adventures, Jay didn't have any energy for another conflict at all. This kid looked pale and thin, so it didn't look like fighting with him would get him anything.

“Calm down, I'm just passing by. What's your problem, dude?”

“I live somewhere ne...here.”

Jason rolled his eyes. It's clear that the guy lived nearby, but it's unlikely that he had a house. The lack of a T-shirt and shoes hinted that in front of him was also a street rat who most likely had not yet learned how to defend his belongings. Poor guy. But this is definitely not Jason's business.

However, did he really spend the night outside in the open air? Sleeping on the bench was a last choice even for Jason. This might be acceptable options in some quiet provincial town, not in Gotham.

“I mean, what are you doing outside?”

Young Phantom checks his glamour, but finds no flaws in it. This man in front of him must be very knowledgeable and experienced, despite his young age, since he immediately recognized him as not a human being. For Danny, who lived with other fairies in Fairyland all his childhood and came to this dimension for the first time, the outside always meant the world of human. Fae shocked and upset that he was discovered so quickly. Haven't people almost forgotten about their existence? The elders would swear a lot if they found out that he had failed. The boy carefully orders the vine and clover to cover the circle of mushrooms, hiding the front door from the human. He was the only one of the entire brood entrusted by Undergrowth to start a practice in a city where there are almost no plants and sunlight, and faeling did not want to let down the mentor who took him under his wing at all.

The old Fairies claim that people are mean and narrow-minded, but Danny himself is intrigued by these creatures and therefore hopes that he will be able to come to an agreement with the boy and to continue his research without obstacles. Danny intends to take the exam for the right to be called an adult fae this decade, which means he has no right to make mistakes. But still, forcing a guy to dance until he drops dead from exhaustion or make him wander along the paths of this small green area without being able to find a way out, as he was taught to get rid of pests at home, seemed too cruel. This boy, just like him, is still a cub and he is here by accident, not to encroach on their possessions. They need not quarrel.

“Don't banish me. I'm just trying to learn.”

“To do what?”

“To steal.” Danny blushes, realizing that such honesty was unnecessary. Stupid, stupid...People know that faeries can take their names, thereby gaining power over them. Now this cub will definitely decide that he has come to cause harm and he will not be able to learn anything useful and interesting. Phantom quickly makes excuses. “Nothing important! I only borrowed trinkets and fruits.”

“You're new to this, aren't you?”

“Is it that noticeable?”

“Pretty noticeable, yes.”

The boy looked at him almost pityingly. And the Phantom didn't like it.

That's how the spirits and other fairies used to look at him when they found out he was only halfa. Because of this fact, his abilities were belittled and not taken seriously too often. What's wrong with that? He's dead just like everyone else, even if not completely.

And now he's screwed up, not even because of his nature, but because of his sluggishness. It was especially unpleasant, as it was deserved. He should have spent his time more productively, but the flowers bred with the help of humans were so interesting and talked about their longing for the sun with such sadness that fae did not dare to interrupt them.

Jason finished both of the stolen hot dogs and leaved the park. The guy still follow him and stares intently, almost without blinking.

“Stop it. What do you want?”

“I study. You seem experienced. “

“People don't really like being stared at like this, in case you didn't know. Back off.”

“Really?”

Jason was ready to be outraged that the kid thought he was an idiot but the tramp from the park looked really puzzled. It seems that if he ever had parents, they didn't care about the boy, since they didn't explain to him that atypical behavior could add him problems. The boy is lucky that Jay is an asshole only when absolutely necessary.

“You're weird. Try to keep your mouth shut near others.”

“Okay.”

Jason took a few minutes to think and sighed. Todd could not leave this strange child alone, because damn conscience would not allow it. He can't survive alone. He will either wander after some other person and become a victim of trafficking or he will be at the beck and call of some assholes in the late afternoon. Jason cursed his bleeding heart once more and promised himself that he would keep the boy by his side no longer than necessary. Jay couldn't afford to be responsible for another mouth to feed. Summer has already come to an end and it was worth starting to save a little money and store things in case of early cold weather.

“If I teach you some of my skills will you promise to stay away from the places where I…work?”

“Maybe. Is this a deal?”

“Yes, if you'll agree, idiot. “

Danny nods and his new acquaintance continues.

“First of all, we'll get you shoes and some clothes. I don't need you to pick up tetanus and some viral crap.”

Danny smiles a little, trying not to make it too noticeable. Great trick.

He nodded to indicate understanding rather than agreeing, and the boy did not ask for verbal confirmation. It seems that he is not completely hopeless at deceiving people. Phantom couldn't wait to tell Clockwork or Frostbite about his success.

They wound through streets and rooftops for a long time until they reached other man's temporary shelter, and Danny had to admit that the man's decision to borrow more clothes was very clever. Strange sharp things and narrow bags of biological fluid were found between the houses disgustingly often. The elders are right about something? Danny must admit. Some people are nasty. They didn't even clean the settlement they live in properly.

A foul-smelling device for carrying things flew into the face of fae while he thoughtfully followed the boy telling him something about removing so-called tires from the iron inanimate horses.

“Dude, stop fighting with a trash bag. You'll stand guard while I give the customer the goods, okay?”

“Fine.” To be honest, the intern was ready to cry from the injustice of life and rush home, and he was only stopped by the desire to visit the observatory, which his new acquaintance mentioned when fae complained that because of the smoke and smog the stars would probably not be visible at night.

Danny realized that he did not regret his decision when, a couple of minutes later, he heard his human quarreling with adult specimen. Judging by the conversation, the man refused to pay the price for the things brought to him and even threatened to hit Phantom's guide. Danny was annoyed by this and decided to intervene a little. To his good fortune, on the balcony of this vile man there was a pot with withering petunias and they did not mind helping lil fae teach their owner manners. A slight whiff of magic and the pot falls on the deceiver's head and human begins to choke on the roots that climb right into his mouth. Danny giggles, congratulating his green comrades on their successful revenge. Other boy doesn't waste any time and grabs the bucks that fell out of the customer's hands and orders new boy to run.

Danny spent several days with human cub and really learned a lot about these creatures. Despite the fact that such a pastime was exciting, he needed to at least create the illusion of practice the fae skills.

It is dangerous to ask a person who knows who he is about this but teachers will be upset if he does not make an attempt. And despite the fact that the people around him seem scary, Nocturn will be much scarier in anger if he finds out that Phantom is such a loser.

“Ma- Can I have your name?” Danny muttered uncertainly and immediately panicked at his own impudence. “Sorry!”

“Jason.”

Todd was in a good mood, as luck had been with him for the last few days, and the new companion was not at all as useless as it seemed to him from the beginning. He was able to hide so well that no one could detect them, and managed to bring fresh fruits, vegetables and mushrooms to their safe house. However, there were problems with the last one, since this strange dude sometimes brought toadstools and satan's boletes to their apartment, which he managed to get from unknown places. Jason thought he was going to have a heart attack the first time he caught child happily eating raw fly agaric. Indeed, if Jay hadn't found him this boy would probably have died of poisoning in that park by now. Todd had to persuade him to bring only chanterelles, which he could confidently identify as edible and not fear for their lives every time the boy tries to help find food. And his padawan really managed to find them. In Gotham. Holy shit. Maybe this park, so fiercely guarded by the boy, was another secret area for Poison Ivy's experiments? However, poisonous specimens will not be wasted either, since you never know when you will need to defend yourself without entering into a fight, but acting more subtly.

“Real name! Real one!” The boy's eyes were as big as saucers and he became very worried and waved his hands as if trying to shake off invisible sticky threads from his fingertips. “You shouldn't say your actual name! Why did you do that? You shouldn't have given it to me.”

“There are a lot of Jason's around. Why do you care about that?”

“You're not just some Jason, you're my Jason, you're important to me. It's dangerous if someone has your name. Then that someone can make you do bad things.”

Tears began pouring down boy's face and Jason was surprised by such a violent reaction. Todd doesn't think there's anything to worry about, since he didn't tell the stranger his last name. He often introduces himself in different ways. Just, for some reason, something made him be honest this time. But how would this guy know that?

“Well…You're not just anyone. We're friends. I don't think you're going to rat on me to the cops or anything. So it's okay. “ Jay tries to calm the newcomer down.

“Friends?”

“Yes. Friends forever?” Jason teasingly holds out his little finger, offering a childish oath that he recently taught his padawan.

“Forever.” The boy supports the oath, and then, after thinking for a second, leans closer to Todd and whispers. "I'm Danny, just so you know."

“Good. I'll remember.”

The young fae is overcome with euphoria. He took the name! He did it! But that was all the other boy had, apart from a rusty tire iron, so it probably wasn't right or friendly to keep it. The human cub helped him. Danny couldn't keep such a gift. He didn't even really try to get his name. “Jason is your name.”

“That's right, buddy.”

“I won't call you that name.” Where I come from, even spouses rarely know each other's names. Danny wanted to assure his friend that he should not be afraid that he would abuse his power. “ I like you so I will take full responsibility for the possession of such a gift, don't worry.”

“Hah, in order to take responsibility, you already need to at least marry me as a moral compensation, given the number of brain cells killed by your antics. “

“Well, if I have to, then I will. When we're older.”

Jason snorts and shakes his head. It's probably not love, since they're just kids, but still, Jason thinks that if all autumn evenings were like this, he wouldn't mind spending his life with Danny, snuggling closer to the boy while they both bask under the same blanket. No matter how many times a day they managed to roll in the mud and fall into the trash can, the boy always gave off a light scent reminiscent of spring greens, which reminded Todd of something warm and cozy. Maybe a home? Although when his father was not in prison yet, his house smelled more like the stench of cigarette smoke and mold. So Danny was more like a hope for a good home that they write about in books.

On their free evenings Jason usually entertained them by reading. Danny has always been an attentive listener, reacting vividly. After stroking the battered cover of a new book he found, Jason puts it aside. He's too tired today, and just wants to listen.

Noticing this, Danny begins to chirp about his homeland. His stories are like fairy tales, too bright and colorful for the stone Jungle. Jay realized a long time ago that his friend had something like a defense mechanism. Todd himself snapped and fought when the world was too cruel, this guy escaped to his fictional world, where he was safer and happier. His friend could have been a great writer someday. The descriptions of Princess Dorathea and her cruel brother, pharaoh with an unusual passion for technology and ultra-recyclo vegetarian queen of plants were so detailed and vivid that they seemed true. Danny's imagination contained the whole world.

When the first snowflakes fall to the ground, Danny says that this means that his friend Frostbite will soon come to pick him up. Jason is honestly not ready for such a turn of events. He promised himself that he would not be around another boy for longer than necessary, but he managed to get attached. He hopes that this statement is just another one of his companion's fantasies and forgets about it for a while.

A snowstorm is raging in the city when Danny does not return home. The snowfall does not stop for several days, and Todd realizes that his friend left him, although all his belongings are left in their apartment. He hopes that someone really came for the boy, and not that in the spring his body will be found in one of the melting snowdrifts. After a few months, when the canned homemade vegetables carefully cooked by Danny are coming to an end, and the mold, sitting alone in a corner of the ceiling all winter, felt the first the warm rays of the sun, Todd decides not to waste energy on useless worries and hopes.

Soon, as Danny would put it, Batman steals Jason. Todd doesn't really trust the old man at first, but he teaches him to be Robin, and, well, Robin is cool. He's magic. Robin is an urban legend, a spirit worthy of being the hero of Danny's favorite stories. Robin is Jason's connection not only to the city itself, but also to his past. Robin does not need to think about whether he should grieve not only for his mother but also for his friend. Robin is more. There is not only strength and hope in this uniform, but also memories, nostalgia and humanness. Therefore, Todd is not ready to give up the suit, even if he understands Grayson's displeasure. Because when he goes out on a patrol, the longing becomes less, and he feels that he is getting better and closer to something important. It helps.

No.

It helped.

And then he died.

And things are getting worse by the day, hah.

~~~A few hits with a crowbar later~~~

Jason learns about a new attempt of eco-terrorism relatively late, when he is officially called to help. Even so he stays at the place of the fight before the rest of the family. Firstly, because this time Ivy decided to start destruction from the closest to Crime Alley park, and secondly because Ivy's creations always pay little attention to him. Even the famous pollen has almost no effect on Hood.

Making his way through the furiously writhing vines, Red Hood notices the enemy and realizes that it is not Ivy, but decides that he will analyze the situation during the battle and rushes forward.

“Hey! Don't touch B, you.. “Almost flying into a guy with such a familiar face, the Hood slows down sharply “... pointy-eared.”

A guy with sparkling green energy in his hand and a vigilante with a pistols in each hand freeze looking at each other.

“Man, is it you?”

Snow-white hair, glowing green eyes, transparent dragonfly-like wings and razor-sharp claws are completely unfamiliar to Todd, but facial features, expressions and a bracelet with star pendants that Jay gave Danny for his birthday, adorning one of the impressive polished horns, allow to recognize him.

“Jay! It's been a long time, my friend.” Hearing Todd's voice, despite the sound changed by the helmet, the creature calms down. “You've grown up a lot.”

“And you're still so short. Wow. And, by the way, I can't believe you're still keep it.” Red puts the safety of the guns and then points one of them at the jewellery. “It's from a dollar store, nothing special.”

John says goodbye to the hope of a day off after the mission, cursing the manners of the bat and his offspring. Is a couple of days without the risk of interdimensional conflict really that too much to ask for?

“You gave it to me. That's why it's special.”

The creature smiles and Todd feels his face blushing. It's a good thing he's still wearing his helmet. Danny looks too…magical…in every sense.

“Do you know him, Hood?” Of course, Bat cannot stay out of the conversation when nothing is holds him back.

“No.”

“Yes.” Danny denies the statement of Hood, proudly puffs out his chest and declares. “He was my first. He calls himself Hood these days? How strange.”

Bat gasps and exhales indignantly.

Jason quickly connects the fact that his friend is definitely not human with the possibility that Danny's stories were true.

“Name!” Trying to fix the chaos that his friend is trying to involve them in, Red Hood hurries to explain. “He's talking about damn name. I'm the first one who gave...”

“Oh, come on, spoilsport. He almost believed me.” The fairy winks playfully and Jason has to do his best to focus on the mission and not on the guy. “You're my betrothed anyway. And, hey, I collected the library as a wedding gift.”

“Hm.” Hood rolls his eyes. This joke about their childhood promise would have been hilarious if he hadn't felt the old man's rising pressure behind his back. So, returning to the problem, he still needs to get these two away from each other as soon as possible. Neither Danny nor Bruce has a calm personality, and Jason didn't want to start Danny's acquaintance with Alfred by giving first aid to these dummies. “So what's all the fuss about? Are you like um.. Ivy's pet-pixie or what?”

Now John Constantine, who carefully watched the meeting from the sidelines, almost feels his blood pressure rising too. Compare faeries with garden pests. What was Batman's son thinking about, showing such disrespect? He wanted them to have more problems or what?

“Hm? Who is Ivy? I've never heard of her. To be honest, I'm only here because our gate was disturbed.” The fairy chirped angrily and, with a nervous flutter of his wings, flew up to the bushes. His finger pointed accusingly at the crushed mushrooms that John and Batsy had landed on when they unsuccessfully attacked Dr. Isley. “But even though your companions' behavior is inexcusable, I don't blame you, of course. I am glad that we met again because of this incident, Tagetes.”

The Faerie circle...John hadn't seen this in years. Damn Gotham. He difenetly doesn't want the problems of this crazy city to fall under his and Shazam's responsibility. Now it is clear why Rogue disappeared so quickly. She probably knew about it and wanted to make them someone else's problem. Damn it twice, John should have sent a message instead of coming to Gotham to discuss business with Wayne. Being uninvited guests of such mischievous and malicious hosts does not bode well.

“You are lucky that the Fright Knight is not on duty today. But someone will have to answer for it. Is it really so hard to look at your feet? Or is this a deliberate provocation? I demand an apology.”

“No, enough games for you. They're a little busy chasing someone, in case you didn't notice.” Jason starts pulling on his friend's hand, intending to take him out of the park. Next to these paranoids, it's better not to ask an old friend about anything. “Only good little fairies are invited to my safe house to taste my signature lasagna today, so stop trying to give my old man a heart attack, okay?”

“Wait. Is this Willis?” The fairy's eyes narrow and he looks at the cloaked dark figure with disapproval.

"No, another jerk. B has a problem with adoptions and that's the reason I'm now part of his brood." Jason reluctantly explains. "He literally dragged me off the streets without consent after I tried to take the tires off his car."

“Oh my Ancients, he did what?! But you're mine! He had no right to steal you.” Danny indignantly rustled the leaves of the closest trees.

“I prefer to be considered as my own man, thank you very much.”

“Riiight…but still, speaking absolutely one hundred percent theoretically, who would you rather stay with, darling? If only you were mine~”

“Ja-..Don't let yourself be fooled, Red Hood. You can't trust him. Ten or even fifty years spent on a prank don't mean anything to this creature.” Bruce doesn't look happy with how at ease Todd is with the threat, but frankly, he rarely looks happy at all, so the crime lord doesn't attach too much importance to it.

"Wow. Rude. This is partially true, but it still hurts. Jason is a friend. I won't do anything to him and I don't demand anything from him. I can't say that about the rest of you. I was preparing for a long-awaited vacation, and because of your fuss I have a new bunch of paperwork to do. What can you say in your defense?"

The boy with the snow-white hair didn't look really upset, but just because there was still a smile on his face, it couldn't be said that he wasn't furious. Next to fairies, all human senses became enemies, not allies.

Despite the deceptive good-naturedness of merrily fluttering his wings guy, John was on high alert. Short-tempered, playful and obnoxious temperament were both a blessing and a curse when working with these creatures. Fairies skillfully searched for loopholes in contracts and in general were the best deceivers among those who could only tell the truth. Faeries prefer to bend victims to their will with words, but they are skilled users of the magic of nature and chaos. They also, despite the business acumen as strong as the alligator's mouth closing strength, were willing to play cat-and-mouse with those who dared to turn to him for help or just walk near their possessions. And this specimen was also clearly not one of the fairies that Morningstar had taken over control, since his energy reeked of Infinite Realms. Unknown territory. John urgently needs to come up with some ingenious plan to get everyone out of this fighting safe and relatively unscathed and…

“Fuck off, B. I told you he already has my name. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have done it at any time. You should show more respect for your future son-in-law, you know.”

“Jason, honey, since when do street rats hang out with bats?” Danny obviously didn't have much sympathy for the Gotham vigilante before, but because of his story, their chances of getting along tended to zero.

“Oh, come on, don't even start this conversation. What is more important…Who would I rather stay with? Hm…Let's say, um, theoretically, of course…If your fiance was killed by one very very bad cruel clown, what would you do, Stardust?

"I would tear clown molecule by molecule."

“Yes, yes! Right!” Jason pats Danny on the shoulder and turns to Batman. “See, that's how you should have reacted.”

Constantine: …What an Addams family. I'm leaving. I've already seen enough. If you get kidnapped, don't call me. Damn freaks.

Come with me now to see my world

Where there's beauty beyond your dreams

Strangers Like Me - Phil Collins

#dpxdc prompt #dpxdc #dpxdc crossover #dpxdc memes #dead on main ship #dead on main #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc fic

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wonderjanga · 4 months ago

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Marilyn Gets Revived

In this AU, the time bubble was formed in 62, Billy got his powers in 59, and the twin’s parents died in 58. There was also the fact that her body was found, but C.C.’s never was. So, as for how this works, I don’t particularly know. Maybe, since Fawcett is weird, the magic of the city revived her? You decide.

The point is, Marilyn Batson crawls out of her grave, Jason Todd style, and wanders the streets in the funeral dress she was buried in.

Marvel: *patrolling when he sees a woman, dirtied with bloodied hands* (from both crawling out of the grave and breaking the coffin)

Marilyn: *walking down the street, trying to get to get to Ebenezer’s house to ask what the hell is going on*

Marvel: *flies down* “Miss? Are you alright?”

Marilyn: “Oh uhm… Yes, I’m fine.” *looks up to Marvel and literally freezes when she sees her husband*

Marvel: “Are you sure? I can take you to the hospital. Your hands are bleeding heavily.” *doesn’t recognize her*

Marilyn: “C.C.?”

Marvel: “Huh?” *confused as to if she either said his dad’s name, or if she said ‘see see’*

Marilyn: “C.C. it’s me. What’s going on? Why’re you dressed like that?” *happy to see her husband even though she doesn’t know he’s not her husband*

Marvel: *computing* “Mo-” *looks around before leaning in to whisper* “You’re Marilyn Batson??” *sounds completely baffled* “Are you real?”

Marilyn: “Wha- Clarence Charles Batson, of course I’m real!”

Being called by his dad’s name made Billy’s mind blank. He didn’t really know what to do except take her to the Watchtower’s medbay because he isn’t going to take his mom to just any hospital. His mom deserves the best. And so, the JL were graced with the image of the eight foot five Cap, with a seven foot ten woman who looks like she’s been through hell and back. And yes, Marilyn is 7’10 because if Captain Marvel is a copy of C.C. Batson, he would’ve been 8’5 so he needs an almost equally as tall wife.

Marilyn: *hands bandaged* “So… What happened to archeology?”

Marvel: *awkward* “Oh right, uh… I’m not da-” *slowly looks over to see Flash and GL spying from the doorway*

Marilyn: *also looks over to them*

GL: *clears throat and walks over* “Who’s this lovely lady, hmm?”

Marvel: “This is Marilyn. Marilyn, that’s Green Lantern. The guy over there still lurking and stalking is Flash.”

Marilyn: *bright ahh smile* “It’s lovely to meet you. When did you become friends with my husband?”

Flash: *zooms over* “Husband?” *jaw is on the floor*

Marvel: “Mari-”

GL: *summons a metal clamp to shut Billy’s mouth* “Sooooo how long have you two been married?”

Marilyn: “Since we were nineteen. So twenty years!”

Flash: “Twenty years…?” *looks between Marilyn and Marvel* “Dude. How do you just forget to tell us that?!”

Marvel: “Uh…” *just grabs Marilyn, and dips out, dragging her to the zeta tubes*

Marilyn: “C.C. what’s wrong?”

Marvel: “Nothing at all. We just need to talk. Not here.”

Marilyn: “Okay…?”

So, Billy drags them to one of the buildings Billy and Mary live in. When Marilyn saw Mary she immediately hugged her baby.

Marilyn: “You’re so big, yet so tiny! You haven’t been eating enough have you?!” *hugging the life out of Mary*

Mary: *getting suffocated while crying*

Marilyn: “Has your father not been feeding you enough?” *glares over at Marvel*

Mary: “What? No, dad’s… dead.”

Marilyn: *slowly looks confused* “Then who…?”

Marvel: “Shazam.”

Billy: “Surprise…?”

Yeah, Marilyn spoiled your two with lots and lots and lots of motherly affection after this. The twins were just happy to have their mommy back.

Bonus:

Billy: “Shazam!”

Marilyn: *standing nearby, gets hit by stray lightning* “Huh…?”

Marilyn Batson now has a Marvel form and she gets to fight with her babies.

#billy batson #dc captain marvel #shazam #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett comics #fawcett #mary batson #mary bromfield #marilyn batson

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gay-dorito-dust · 5 months ago

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Werewolf Jason things:

His werewolf form is as tall as-if not taller- then he is, which makes it more difficult having him within the apartment as he takes up most of the available space, that and his floofy tail tended to knock stuff over by accident…oops.

His howl is a powerful one, like might as well make you loose all hearing type of howl if that makes sense. You wouldn’t be surprised if all of Gotham could hear him with a howl that powerful.

With you he’s an overgrown puppy who’ll gladly let you play with his tail out of boredom or even play with his ears as they twitch and flicker, hell he’s chill enough to have you boop his snoot that you swear he was trying to smile half of the time.

The first time you saw Jason in his werewolf form, you were intimidated and scared that he might not remember you in this form, he was sniffing the, growling and showing off that predatory expression of his. You felt such fear that you went as far as to drop to the floor when he lunged over your head, only to attack the person who had been stalking you for a good while throughout the night, head filled with nothing but malicious intent as they followed you into the alleyway.

So once Jason had done mauling him, he looked back at you with blood on his muzzle and paws and moving towards you, making you freeze in place and closing your eyes tight in hopes that your death would come swift and fast in compared to that guy; only for the werewolf to nudge you with his snout, giving you a few reassuring licks to your hands to show you that he wasn’t a threat to you, only towards the ones who’d cause you harm was he a major threat.

There was a reason he didn’t want you seeing his transformation, often doing so in one of his safe houses, and so he’ll try his best to reassure you through his werewolf form that he wouldn’t ever hurt you, ever. It was his biggest fears after all and even if he did manage to nick you, he’d whimper and lick your wound with his tongue in hopes it’ll heal it, which was sweet of him but you’re better off getting medical attention.

He has a silver streak of fluff, followed by a pair of unsettlingly green eyes that seemed to glow in the dark, which thankfully added to the scare factor in making scumbags piss themselves and run away scared, only to be hunted down by a six foot werewolf and slashed into ribbons…

He remembers your scent after a while and thus every transformation is made a lot easier knowing that he’ll still remember you and smother you in affection, the werewolf breath was another thing you had to get use to that was for certain, but you loved him dearly enough to deal with him moulting all over the place and it was a lot.

Going back to the glowing green eyes thing, you nearly shit yourself the first few times you see a dark shadow in the corner of your room, glowing eyes staring at you before seeing that it was Jason when he moved into the light.

‘Jason.’ You groaned. ‘Stop scaring me.’

Jason tilted his head as he licks the back of your hand apologetically, you sighed and find yourself once again unable to stay mad at the overgrown pup of fluff and sharp claws and teeth as you scratched behind his ear.

You let him on the bed, but be warned this action has consequences as he’ll lie on top of you as though he was lighter then he actually was, squishing you into the bed but when morning comes you’re being squished into the bed by a very, very naked Jason Todd.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc comics x reader #dc fic #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagines #jason todd x you #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagines

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dontbesoweirdkira · 5 months ago

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Platonic Yandere Jason w/ Batsis darling

A/N: This is supposed to be post death and all that.. Like he's just trying to integrate back into his family and society but it's been hell. His batsis is the one thing that is actually helping him through it thus becoming over attached. He's obsessed with being normal again..for you. (Any Jason Todd)

Warnings: Rather soft yandere actually. but i guess obsession and possessive tendencies.

Requests: always open. please read pinned post which is the masterlist

Masterlist

Yandere Jason Todd who finds an immeasurable amount of comfort and stability in his Batsis. He doesn't particularly understands or even knows why he does but he does.

He still feels awkward and out of place with the rest of batfam. He feels anxious, judged and annoyed around them. It overwhelms him and stresses him to the point of mental breaks. But you ground him. You don't make sudden movements or loud sounds. You don't ask invasive questions or bring up past memories. You're gentle and mindful of him.

The others try bonding but they never fail to eventually overstep boundaries and cause more wounds. He's appreciative of you.

Yandere Jason who cannot help but get possessive over you. He hates when his other siblings command your attention over his. It boils him. I like to think he's constantly comparing himself to them. How normal and fun they are in contrast. He wants to be just like them and do fun things again...but he just cant...not yet. He especially despises Dick and just how pretty and perfect his older brother is. This often causes fights between the two. You and him have tons of inside jokes, secret handshakes and hangouts often. Jay wants that too.

Jason is fearful of going in public with you. He's been craving that local diner spot and love to treat you as a thank you but he doesn't want the stares. He's riddled with scars and looms over everything. He really don’t want his sis to be ridiculed and questioned on his behalf.

Jay tries his best to keep you locked in the house with him. He tries pulling you away from them as much as possible but he feels guilty. This is a miserable life and he doesn't want that was misery on you too, but he just cannot bear you being with them instead. Sometimes he'll offer to sneak out late at night and hang on rooftops with you, but he knows it's nothing compared to the arcades and parties you're missing out on.

He does try very hard to come out of his shell on your birthdays or times like Christmas ect.. He wants to be a good brother and give back how kind you've been towards him. Whatever will make you happy, he'll power through it.

Yandere Redhood who goes after the people that make you cry or feel unsafe. He knows what he promised Bruce but it's to keep is sibling safe. Bruce would understand if he went through even half of the traumatic experiences he did. You have to cut off potential threats at the roots. That's how you prevent lunatics like the joker and to keep souls like you pure.

Yandere Jason Todd who is adorably obsessed with your room. He hasn't done much decorating to his. It's boring and bland, he doesn't remember much of what he liked as a kid before everything happened. But yours is covered in personality. Books, figures, plushies and tons of posters...it's cute. He likes it a lot. Sometimes he just sits in there, even when you're not home because it makes him feel nostalgic? In a good way, it gives him a warm glimpse into what his life could've been as a teen/young adult. Plus it's filled with all the things you love which by default he loves it too. I like to think he steals trinkets from your room that you love the most when he's anxious.

Like you've come home before to him in the corner of his room with one of your big plushies in his arms during an episode. It smells like you it grounds him back into reality. Whatever he's seeing in his head isn't real, but you are. You signify safety.

Yandere Jason who mimics anything you do to learn how to act normal. He doesn't mean to but he spends so much time either with you or lurking near by. Your food options are a major thing is copies. He's often overwhelmed by the many choices in store so when he's hungry, he'll just pick up anything he's remembered you eating. Even if he didn’t like it much.

He doesn't realizes these habits are a bit strange. enviably, one of the other siblings poke fun at him for how his face scrunches up at the taste of your favorite snack. They laughed how he should just get things he likes instead of trying to copy you all the time. They weren't trying to be cruel, just playing like siblings do but it made his world crumble. Was that really strange? Jason didn't mean to make you feel weird. Did you feel weirded out by it, have you been telling the other siblings how bothered you were by his antics?

"Jason, its okay. It's seriously not a big deal, it's slightly odd but i don't mind." You tried reassuring him but it just confirmed his thoughts.

You did think it was weird. That he was weird. You laugh about him behind his back all the time, don’t you?

He knows he's a bit off the drum. He knows he's an embarrassment but a deluded part of him thought maybe the difference wasn't as big as he made it out to be. It was just paranoia. guess..not. He's shattered. His one safe space wasn't real. He wasn’t good enough like the others….yet.

Yandere Jason has to become like a normal brother for you. He needs to be like Dick and Tim. He needs you to think he's cool and fun to be around. He needs to be a good brother...one you're not weirded out by.

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101maverick · 8 months ago

Note

Hi! Saw your newest post, so thought I might as well try to help with your writers block :)

How about headcanons of the bat boys dating a broke reader? Alternatively, batboys x bimbo!reader?

Hope this helps you get out of your slump, enjoy the rest of your day and take your time if you ain't up for it :]

A/n: Tysm for the request! Hope you enjoy :)

Dick Grayson

Being resident in Bludhaven, he's financially independent and certainly not rich. He refuses to depend on Bruce.

This means he hasn't got any trust fund money to give you, but he'd definitely help you out any way he can

He'd buy you practical gifts as well as normal ones whenever he's got the chance, and if you're living together the way you divide the living costs would definitely be proportional to your spending power

Dick isn't rich but he's not broke either: the average annual salary for cops in the us is roughly $66.000, but he owns the two-bedroom apartment you live in so the only thing you guys need to pay is taxes and bills, no rent to worry about. You're also not at home for most of the day, seeing as he works as a cop and you have your own job that takes up a good chunk of your day, so the electricity bill isn't very high.

I personally think Reader would not enjoy not having to pay for anything seeing as the money comes out of Dick's own pocket, so she'd at the very least insist on paying for groceries and helping out more in the house with laundry, dishes, cleaning et cetera, to even out the responsibilities as much as possible

He'd support you as much as possible if you're getting a degree, he'd be like your own personal cheerleader, and after you get it he'd organise this huge surprise graduation party for you and then help you get a job in the field of your degree

like if you became a lawyer he'd hook you up with some judges/attorneys he knows aren't corrupt and get you a job in their law firm (paid intern of course, after having worked so hard you want to make it yourself in the world)

I think you two would have tons of fun at the thrift! You wouldn't feel bad about him insisting to spend his money, and you would have the best time just perusing the racks and laughing at all the insane stuff you find plus trying on some genuinely nice clothes

One thing he splurges on though is making sure you have a state-of-the-art home gym, in fact that is why he buys your building's basement and equips it with every work-out machine under the sun plus a trapeze and equipment to practice a ton of other dynamic sports of the sort

————————————

Jason Todd

He's a crime lord so it's safe to say this dude is filthy rich

He obviously doesn't show it though and apart from having a lot of it as an emergency fund for when he needs to defend himself in gang wars I believe he anonymously donates the rest to charities

I go with the canon of Jason being catholic so I believe he gives to the Church, but it could obviously be something else like one of the many Wayne foundations (cause as much as he holds a grudge against his father he knows he's obviously not corrupt and actually helps people)

apart from this he definitely still has a lot of money

He'd refuse to see you struggle financially

He's been through that, he knows how awful it is and does not hear no for an answer when he goes to hand you insane amounts of cash

If you live together then he makes sure to get a nice apartment in the respectable parts of town, blending in with the rest of the neighbourhood to make sure the location is safe and as untraceable as possible

He handles everything and refuses to even let you pay for groceries, insisting that you concentrate on your studies and not worry about having to sustain yourself

To him you guys being a team means that you hold each other up any way you can, and you already support him immensely just by being by his side and loving him, so to him this is just doing his part and supporting you (on top of loving you like crazy of course)

One thing he'd do is make sure your house has enough space to host an insane amount of books though

On this topic I think he'd absolutely spoil you with book hauls, just taking you to every book store you can find and buying piles and piles of books

I'm talking those beautiful gold-leaf covered editions of centuries-old classics, and it doesn't matter if you already have the stories per-se in your library cause it's the edition that matters in this case, ya know?

Like sometimes you want to feel regal and distinguished reading the gold-lined hardcover Commedia, sometimes you want to feel quirky with your penguin edition Jane Eyre, other times you just want to embrace your inner sewer rat and read Macbeth from the shitty mass-produced paperbacks and Jason acknowledges and embraces it

————————————

Tim Drake

Tim, like Jason, is also filthy rich, in virtue of being the owner of Drake Industries and the representative C.E.O. for Bruce at Wayne Enterprises

You'd both live in his Nest, and given the horrendous amount of electricity it consumes it's all already paid for by his company so no need to worry about that

He would only accept "payment" for everything he does for you in the form of you making sure he goes to sleep at decent amounts of time when he's elbow-deep in a case (and tons of love, obviously)

Like Jason, he'd just hands you wads of cash

EXCEPT! He does it for the most mundane stuff. Timothy Jackson Drake is a nepo baby, no way around that. Sure, while he spent his time stalking Batman and Robin through the rougher parts of Gotham he learnt street-safety 101, but he always carried anything he needed for those nightly strolls in his backpack, and he never really learned the real value of money. "$2.70 for a small bottle of water? Sounds reasonable!" is his thought process to this day.

You two would often have these moments of 'culture shock', with Tim slowly discovering how much things should cost every time you two go out to run errands together and you discovering about the insane things the rich buy and do just because Tim decided to recount some childhood stories/told you about some stuff socialites did ad a gala

Since I think Tim's love language is quality time I think he'd take you on these absurd trips whenever possible, that to you are to absurd places but to him it's a very normal trip because "my parents always went there twice a year? It's an extremely normal vacation spot?" Meanwhile it's the Maldives or a private island in Greece or something

This being Tim you also HAVE to have a state-of-the-art phone, with tons of features you will never need to use since you're a civilian but it makes him more at ease, knowing that if the need arises you have the ability to disarm a bomb with the click of a button on your display

————————————

Damian Wayne-Al Ghul

Oh he'd absolutely refuse to have you living anywhere but a castle

It'd take convincing for him to have you living in anything less than a penthouse in the diamond district

He's not against the idea of you working, but he doesn't think that it's necessary for you to slave away at a minimum-wage job while you could be spending all your time in luxury while studying for your degree

After you get your degree he'd help you find a job at one of the most important places for your specialisation, pulling the needed strings just to make sure your resume isn't overlooked (nothing more, he's of the idea that his partner should be strong, plus he believes you to be extremely capable and so thinks that pulling strings to get you the job would be a disservice and an offence to you)

Absolutely spoils you with gifts, and by that I mean: clothes, jewellery, if you like cars he'll buy you a carpark, anything you look at for more than two seconds he'll buy

Damian's way of showing love is through gestures, so you rejecting his gifts would hurt him and he'd take it to mean that you are rejecting him/are unsatisfied with him

Like with Tim, you both would have "Culture shocks" over stuff like the worth of money, lifestyle and stuff like that

Because Damian is basically a royal (or at the very least was raised like one, I don't know what's happened to the LoA in current canon) I think he'd lowkey try to get you an armed guard for when you need to go out as a sign of love lol

"Damian I've been feeling watched while going out as of late" "Don't worry Beloved, that's just the armed guard" "Oh ok-I'm sorry what?!"

Things like anniversaries, birthdays and big events are celebrated in the most lavish settings but in a private way still, like he'll absolutely spoil you and take you to visit this super famous castle for your birthday, matter of fact he'll rent it out for the occasion

For real he does this because when you're alone he can be himself and he loves doing that when you're both experiencing something that makes you happy-- But! Those are head canons for another time hehe >:)

————————————

Bruce Wayne

I believe he's the only one in the bat family who knows the worth of money while having being rich his entire life (ya know, having to use all the disguises he does and going undercover as a normal person a lot of the time)

He definitely offers you a job at Wayne Enterprises, and if you accept he agrees to keeping your relationship under wraps so that no one will start saying that you 'sleep with him for the job'

On that topic if the relationship ever goes public and people start saying that, he will fire them without hesitation

And if it's business partners joking with him about it, he won't stop dealing with them for the sole purpose of covertly crippling their reputation so badly they'll have no choice but to sell their companies to him

You obviously live with him at the Manor, and he insists that everything be paid for by himself only (ya know, richest man in New Jersey and probably the world soooo....)

Bruce is really bad with his emotions, he tends to really repress them whenever he deems them something he's not 'worthy' of feeling or whenever he perceives he has failed at something or failed someone, so the mere fact he confessed his feelings towards you and that he doesn't shun your love is a huge step forward for him. This doesn't mean that he's good at expressing his emotions when he doesn't repress them though, especially not with words.

This is why his main love languages are gift-giving and acts of service, because he shows his love through actions.

Gift-giving as an important love language for him happens because he's very busy both during the day and the night, so sometimes your schedules just don't align or he even has to go off-world with the Justice League and stuff, so he 'makes up' those missed acts of service with lavish gifts

Usually this could be seen as 'throwing money at the problem and hoping it fixes itself' but the thing is that Bruce's gifts are pretty much always spontaneous. He's out and about in his public persona or patrolling as batman, and he sees a storefront with something that reminds him of you or that he thinks you would like. The next logical step is obviously buying it for you as soon as possible and getting it to the manor. Because Bruce is really bad at showing it but the people he loves are always at the forefront of his mind (when he's not being an asshole and repressing his emotions as if the fate of humankind depended on his ability to give his family the cold shoulder and communicating only in grunts and sighs)

———————————— A/n: this was so fun! I love writing head canons because there is no pressure with story flow and how much description and feeling you're putting into it, it's very similar to sharing your thoughts with a friend and that's what endears the format to me so much :) Hope you enjoyed! If you like my work, please consider reblogging and checking out my other works through the master list in my pinned post<3 Love you all🩷

Total word count: 2009

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eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove · 7 months ago

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Hey, i read the “Bat-boys finding out your pregnant” and may i ask for more? It was sooo cute that i need more of it 😭💕

The Batboys fathers HCs

A/N: this request is long overdue that I’m sure the requester doesn’t even remember it, but I’ve arrived at last. I hope this is what they wanted. The Absolute Power run has restored my love for Nightwing and comics. ❣️

Dick Grayson is a fun dad. At first, Dick suffocated beneath the weight of fatherly duties. He wanted to be better than Bruce. Dick loved him, but he could admit that his boyhood wasn’t a salubrious environment for the young mind. No child should have to carry the weight of Bruce’s mission. Thus, Dick’s mission became ensuring yours and the baby’s lives were secure, safe, and joyous.

Pale beams of sunlight kissed your cheeks good morning. The aroma of maple syrup wafted throughout the house, tickling your nostrils as you carried yourself down the stair steps, footfall by footfall. There Dick stood at the stove, scooting the black spatula beneath a golden pancake and flipping it into the air, causing your baby to burst out into a fit of giggles before the pancake hit the skillet with a sizzle. He was proud of himself for making his baby laugh.

“Well, well, look at mama.” A grin crept across his lips as he spotted you creeping closer, supernovas bursting in his electric blue irises.” You were snoring in a pool of drool when I awoke, so I grabbed the baby and started breakfast.” Vibrant seas of pacifiers, rattles, and toy pianos adorned the house.

Dick attempted to rush the developmental process. Not out of callousness, but sheer excitement to have a child. He had already stocked the baby in dolls, trucks, pacifiers, fruit snacks, apple juice (watered down, of course). He even installed a nightlight that short circuited the house at first, but Bruce helped him fix it. Reading is good for the baby right? Dick is on it. He’s already ordered the best and most classic tales; Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Alice in Wonderland, Dr. Seuss, Little Red Riding Hood.

Dick Grayson has read multiple novels on fatherhood, motherhood, child development, postpartum depression. He hates surprises, and babies are the breeding ground of surprises. He will pack the go-bag full of onesies, pacifiers, diapers, wipes, toys because he doesn’t want you to be in public and not have the materials.

“Give me a few days to install the new changing table. You’ll love it.” Crimson blush adorned his tanned cheeks, a proud grin dawning on his lips, showcasing his pearlescent teeth.” It broke when I weight checked it, thank god. Damian, albeit reluctantly, is coming out here tomorrow to translate the instructions.”

Jason Todd is the protective, paranoid father because he’d placed a bullet in the worst humanity had to offer, witnessed otherworldly horrors done to the little guys, the folks who lack billions of dollars to hole up on secluded islands and cabins. He can’t eradicate all the scum, can’t caulk the fractures villains seem to keep slipping through—and that terrifies him.

Jason never imagined a life worth living to be possible. He’d thought himself a sentient zombie, an unlucky boy yanked from the eternal peace of a cold, soundless grave and forced to enact vengeance on behalf of the common folk who lack the means to undertake the mission themselves. He never considered Red Hood to be a hero; merely a restless phantom with nothing else to bide his time until the sweet release of the afterlife deigned to shatter his manacles to the mortal world. That was until he’d fallen over the sun, offering endless devotion to his goddess, and you’d rewarded his offering with a daughter, a lovely girl. He’d abduct the moon and wrap it in a silken bow if only you’d give him permission.

“Catch, papa,” your daughter had called out, retrieving the little football and sprinting toward him, tiny feet carrying her over the damp and verdant grass of y’all’s backyard. Jason never brought the both of you to parks—an excess of people to watch, different personalities and behaviors; a myriad of possibilities for tragedy. Too much room for error in a vast, leafy expanse.

“You’ve gotta bring it to me first,” Jason called back, outstretching his muscular arms, awaiting her arrival. He was paranoid and distrustful of the world, not a killjoy. Y’all’s daughter’s bedroom was littered with vivid nail polishes, fluffy scarves, glittering tiaras, and Monster High dolls. Your daughter had always adored Frankie Stein and Frankenstein because they reminded her of Jason and herself, the dolls and humans both sharing pale white streaks of hair. He hadn’t known whether to laugh or weep upon hearing those words from her lips, innocent and completely unaware of the accuracies spanning far past hair color.

“Jason, I love you, but we are not cooping ourselves up in the house this summer.” The words were firm and unyielding—but lacking any true bite.

“ I’ve given you grace. I let a lot slide because I understand your background. But we’re just not doing it this summer. Its too hot to not go to waterparks and enjoy ourselves because of possibilities.” A damn good point rested upon your tongue, and he knew it.

“Fine.” He relented with a jocosely petulant huff.” But we take a gun with us.”

Tim Drake is an ambitious father. It’s been said before, but I don’t believe he’s as active as the fandom would believe. Though, his absence isn’t born of malice or indifference, but ambition, a thirst for a legacy. He wants to be a man his significant other and child can be proud of, a father worth bragging about. There’s also a large chamber seated within his mind that knows not how to be a father, for his parents were cold, choosing to throw dollars at his gripes and needs rather than be present.

One of his greatest fears is disappointing the both of you, like he was disappointed by his own parents, so disappointed he couldn’t even despise them. Tragically, the mission to avoid history’s repetition had placed him before a mirror, his parents gazing back at him, a smug smirk curled on their lips because they know that he’ll be on their end of the glass within a few decades.

Can he be blamed? Tim wants the absolute best for his family. The best grades, the best schools, the best scores, the best scholarships. He’s not naïve enough like Dick to believe hard work and persevere can lift a nobody anywhere. There are no bootstraps to be pulled taut. It’s an illusion, a sauce wealthy people spoon over their meals to disguise the taste of nepotism and privilege. Manipulations the rich regurgitate to excuse themselves from having to acknowledge the unfair, biased system they’ve upheld.

The door to his limousine slammed closed, his child seated beside but, but farther than ever. What could be said? Jerking forward, the limousine rolled into drive, coasting beneath autumn streaked clouds, as though her father had gifted her the sky from a florist. Bruce hadn’t prepared Tim for the teenaged terror years. He couldn’t help but wonder if he himself had been this capricious and fickle as a teen, or if he were merely that bad of a father.

“Do. . . do you want a Milkshake? From that one place by the house, like we used to when you were young.” Tim couldn’t help but raise a hopeful raven shaded brow. He could smell the stench of sweat, an anxious perspiration, cleaving to your school uniform. It must’ve been a test day.” I’ll clear the rest of my schedule for us. . . if you want, of course.” He extended an olive branch, granting her the choice to engage and accept, or set the course for the rest her teenage years.

Damian Wayne does not want children. He doesn’t know how far his taint would bleed, and all he can envision are the ways he could disgrace the mind of a child. His village was rotten and evil. Bad fruits bear worse seeds.

Damian’s devotion was love, the purest kind he knew, a primal desire to protect and cherish that of which he adored. You forged suns in his heart, set the butterflies in his belly aflutter. Beneath a weeping of sheet of violet sky, the both of you had sworn to love the other until Earth imploded—and when it did, he would find you in another universe.

He doesn’t hate children. In fact, he would be a decent babysitter for Dick and Jason, and whenever Tim deigned to grace the BatCave with his presence. But, Damian is staunch in his childfree attitude, and you respect it. Truthfully, you weren’t even sure you wanted kids. No, you and Damian battled crime, traveled the world and experienced culture, learned histories outside of the filth pumped into his mind by the Al Ghuls. Bruce was saddened by Damian’s decision against children, but he ultimately respected it—and him.

Damian knew he was poisoned and rotten and always would be, no matter what emblem was sewn over his breast. He was content with the life the both of you had, and knowing Dick, many more children are to come, so he’d never get lonely.” Beloved, what do you make of Italy? Not the tourist parts where the history is washed, but the ripe lands.”

Bruce Wayne is a weary father. He knew the birth of his youngest child was redemption, his last chance at preserving the Wayne name since Damian had sworn off children. But Bruce was aged, hardened, jaded, weary. He had scars to last a lifetime, some worn on his heart, though majority were worn on his skin.

The Wayne brownstone was eerily silent since Alfred’s death. Bruce’s son sat around the oaken table, coloring a picture of Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, and Alfred. Bruce’s heavy lids fell over exhausted, dim blue irises, his brain flitting back to the memories of Alfred, gathered at the stove and learning a recipe. I am. . . old, Master Bruce. My time on this earth is not infinite. You must learn more than the ways of fists, the words echoed in his mind. Reminding him that old age wasn’t even the murderer of Alfred Pennyworth.

He fetched an inhale before pulling himself off of the couch, and padding over toward his son at the dinner table.” What’s that? Oh, a pretty picture. A real artistic talent, like Damian.” Bruce was unsure of his fathering more often than not. He knew how it appeared to his son’s school counselors and the principal—old, washed up playboy Bruce Wayne saddled with another young son. That was far from the case, but the masses will believe anything when they’re given nothing.

Bruce fetched a pot and skillet from the creaking cabinets of the brownstone, far from the elegance and cleanliness of the manor. Alfred would’ve been mortified to see the mess, he almost chuckled, but withheld it. Lest his son raise a question, for the explanation would be too complicated and long-winded for his young mind.” So, what do you see for dinner tonight? What makes that belly growl like a lion? Mac and Cheese? Lasagna? Hamburger Helper?”

Bruce knew exactly what his son would choose. Asking was merely a courtesy. Bruce knew him, raised the boy from the minute he was weaned. He knew what his son would do before his son knew what he himself would do. The Batman wasn’t a slacker, wasn’t lazy.

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britcision · 4 months ago

Text

My other lil bit of Halloween fun is technically not ready yet but in the spirit of “I want to go to bed”, y’all can have an unpolished lil early snack! And I’ll try and get the good one up over the weekend!

So sit back, relax, and enjoy the Dead And Loving It Halloween Special, The Haunting Of Hood House! (Most of part 1…. Part 2 possibly next year I dunno)

——————

The Haunting of Hood House

Honestly, Jason was fully aware he shoulda said no. Between his now-triple life as a crime lord/vigilante, Fright Knight to the ghost king, and now university student, his dance card was full for more than just every hour in a day.

He was a busy bee. Probably shoulda given university another year or so, to be fair, but that was just the thing. Before all this ghost stuff came along, he’d figured he finally had time for a second half to his life; it was why he came back into the public eye at all.

He hadn’t gone in for the summer semester, counting on the tabloids being a whole ass thing (and they were), but he’d figured that getting himself announced at the New Years gala would give plenty of time for stuff to settle down so he could go to university in the fall.

And then, on Christmas day, he’d met Danny. And his life gained another side whether he liked it or not. And it had been too late to walk back the gala by the time he realized just how time consuming it would be.

(On the plus side, his ghost training was coming along well enough that it was finally helping him cut down on time spent on the crime/vigilante side. He wasn’t exactly up to ol’ Halloween’s standards yet, but he had full control of the powers he currently had, and was learning more about being a Fright Knight from the man himself.

They’d even had time to plan and make a run on their first Lazarus pit, which had gone… as well as could be expected.)

The point being? His schedule was full. Between homework and crimework, he didn’t have time for fun university extracurriculars the way he’d kinda hoped he would.

But when some of the geeks from his Gothic Lit class asked him to help them set up a haunted house… how the hell was he supposed to say no to that?

Danny sure as hell hadn’t been able to (and had laughed his ass off when Jason mentioned exactly why he had to reschedule one of their hangouts - after all, the two of them just showing up meant that the house was technically being haunted), which was how they’d roped in a couple more kids from the engineering department. At least three were planning to use parts of the set up as their final projects.

(Harper was having a field day rigging all of the floors for piezoelectric lights, sound, and fog machine. The more people jumped or ran, the more dramatic the atmosphere would get.)

So, despite already having basically no free time, he and Danny were now partially responsible for setting up a haunted house.

Jason was pretty sure his classmates had initially wanted him mostly as financial backing; ten minutes after agreeing to help, he’d been shyly approached with links to a set building company and day rates to have them build a “house” on the university grounds.

Jason Todd himself would be damned if he would just be the money man though. No, he wasn’t having his name attached to a haunted house project that wasn’t the best it could possibly be.

And, well, he had access to a lot of surplus construction supplies and actual local handymen, in the form of his gang. He was pretty sure most of them knew that Jay, Red Hood’s right hand man, was Jason Todd Wayne by now; it had never actually come up, but he’d made a few media splashes.

No one seemed actually confused or surprised to be asked to come put up haunted house on university grounds. Just the shell though; Jason demanded integrity from goons and student body both, and firmly told the rest of the Lit class that if they wanted to throw a haunted house, they were bloody well going to decorate and staff it with their own hands.

(About two people had been disappointed. As soon as he’d admitted he’d also footed the bill for supplies, all the rest had been eagerly battling it out over room themes and who got to use the nail guns.

Jason confiscated the nail guns on day three, after Danny and Harper got into a “nail fight”. Because of course they did.)

And, really, most of them had also taken Danny’s “contributions” well too. Because along with the more normal special effects the other engineers was setting up, Danny was serious about putting the “haunted” in the house.

“It’s an ecto-accelerator,” he’d explained cheerfully, slapping the large, chunky device that Jason knew full well was at least three blenders jammed together with car parts. “Gotham’s got a lotta ambient ecto for a normal city, so we’ll get half a dozen blob ghosts by the end of the week.”

A couple of the Gothamites in the group had tittered a little at Gotham being called “normal”, but one or two (the ones Jason happened to know were doing way better in their classes) had looked thoughtful. Slightly suspicious.

Cuz yeah, sure, Gotham was far from normal in almost every way, but most of the people were still unaware of how serious the “occult” menaces to the city were. It certainly wasn’t “the most haunted city in America”, and while the Danny/Phantom secret was still well under wraps, Danny being from Amity Park wasn’t.

He’d made waves in the engineering department from his first solo project, and honestly none of them looked too surprised any more.

One of the Lit geeks had raised a hand like they were in class, which Jason had bullied Danny about for hours.

“Uh… what are blob ghosts? And do we want them? Like… isn’t that cheating if you have actual ghosts? I thought you guys wanted to build effects systems,” they added quickly, glancing from Danny to Harper.

Danny had stared blankly for a moment (possibly from the hand raising), then shook his head.

“Oh, no, the accelerator was my project from last semester. This semester it’s gonna be the ghost shield which keeps all the blob ghosts trapped in the house!”

(And should keep the Curse and the asshole entity locked out and away. Not necessarily, y’know, necessary, but it’d be good to see if it worked.)

Harper had just grinned, hands in her pockets.

“An’ it means I have to build my stuff more than just people-proof, which has gotta be worth bonus points.”

Their other two engineers had agreed, apparently completely down with the occult at this point.

The formation of the blob ghosts was apparently going pretty well. Jason couldn’t reliably sense them yet, but he trusted Danny’s word on it.

And Fright Knight’s.

Because yeah. That. Was a thing that was also happening.

This one was also entirely Jason’s own fault; back at the beginning of October, when he’d first agreed to this whole mess, he’d had to tell people why he was going to be busy.

And. Well.

It made sense at the time to just tell the elder Fright Knight the truth about why they’d had to shift their training schedule. He was the Spirit of Halloween! It was even thematically appropriate!

And frankly, the speed at which Danny had started shaking his head and trying to stop him should probably have been a warning.

But so would telling Jason ahead of time not to tell Halloween that they were going to be working on a haunted house! Danny had even shared the story of the time he stole the original nightmare blade, the Soul Shredder as a prop for his own school haunted house!

And, y’know, incurred Halloween’s wrath and started a whole Thing, but he’d also given the sword back and all seemed to be forgiven now.

(Although. Given. The look in blazing eyes when Danny mentioned it. Not forgotten.)

And it seemed to go fine at the time, so Jason had kinda figured it was just another of those things where Danny was weirdly protective of his “normal” life. Didn’t want ghosts getting involved.

Cuz Halloween was very supportive. Agreed immediately to switch up their schedule, no muss no fuss. Offered to help.

And Danny had refused outright, which obviously made Jason want to agree. And Danny hadn’t actually said why he didn’t want Halloween to help.

(Which, y’know, the guy was right there, but still.)

His arguments had basically boiled down to “no one’s supposed to know I’m the Ghost King, we can’t have the actual Fright Knight following me around”, which was apparently the argument that had carried to keep Frighty from following him to Gotham.

But neither of them had known Jason then. And Jason was a Robin; they were very good at loopholes.

Because really, it wasn’t all that hard for an actual ghost to go undetected. Especially if they only popped in for short visits.

And could there be a better haunted house consultant than the Spirit of Halloween?

“Sir Jason, yon webs are sagging.”

The answer, it had turned out, was yes.

“My liege, real blood would serve much better…”

Almost. Anyone.

“BEWARE!”

And apparently the Box Ghost had overheard somewhere that Danny was now allowing visits to Gotham, on the dual condition of short duration and invisibility.

Snatching the box of tiny robot spiders before it could be dumped out, Jason glared at the spot Pitty was growling at.

“Boxy, seriously. We talked about this!” He hissed, wrapping both arms firmly around the box.

A few plaintive tugs, and then the Box Ghost gave up. On that box. And another five cardboard boxes of supplies rose into the air.

“FEAR THE POWER OF THE BOX GHOST!”

“Once the damn house is finished, Boxy! There’s still stuff in all of these. Didn’t I promise to build you a box fort if you could just be cool for another week?”

A blue, capped head popped into visibility behind one of the floating boxes. He did, at least, look mildly contrite.

“Indeed you did, young knight… but! The Box Ghost needs no assistance! There are none more ferocious nor powerful in the world of objects cardboard and cubular!”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.

“That’s not even a word, Boxy…” and paused when another breath froze on its way out of his mouth.

So did the Box Ghost, floating boxes stilling from their orbit of the room. Almost on reflex, he popped into full visibility just as Halloween did, directly behind him.

The Box Ghost turned slowly, peering up at the much larger armoured figure. Fright Knight narrowed blazing purple eyes down at him. The Box Ghost narrowed his back.

“None. More. Ferocious.” He growled, boxes rising slowly around him.

Halloween put his hand on his sword.

Jason pressed his lips together so he didn’t laugh. Fighting in the living world was currently a Danny-only activity, with Halloween having the only exception - to stop anyone else trying to start trouble. Technically, throwing down over who was scariest with the Box Ghost was not covered.

And, really, not all that much of a question. Even Boxy knew it, deflating as armoured fingers curled around the hilt.

“But in matters of Halloween and frightfulness I will concede,” he grumbled, boxes settling gently back to the floor.

Halloween pointedly turned his attention to Jason instead, who was still very specifically not laughing.

“Young knight, the woman “Harper” has once again weakened your electrical traps. Shall I destroy her, or will you deal with this yourself?” He asked, voice dropped below his usual booming tones only because Danny had sworn to send him back if another student caught him.

Amusement dying almost immediately, Jason rolled his eyes.

“Look, Sir Halloween. We’ve been over this. They’re hers, they’re not death traps, and you shouldn’t be touching them. You know how Danny feels about electricity around his tech.”

A lot of ghosts seemed to know how Danny felt about electricity in general, and how it related to his death. Despite a temporary team up with Vlad, Jason didn’t actually know if the Spirit of Halloween was one of them.

Until it was proved one way or another, or Danny brought it up to the ghost himself, Jason was sticking with plausible deniability.

And the Fright Knight huffed, drawing himself up as his flaming hair flared.

“If the mere existence of such a trap may displease the King, she should be destroyed with all the more vigour!”

Showing irritation never worked with the old knight; for one thing, he couldn’t stop himself from escalating. He just couldn’t. He didn’t know how to back down.

Luckily Jason was more than used to dramatic and boisterous hotheads. He folded his arms instead, raising an eyebrow at the Fright Knight.

“She’s building the power system, Sir Halloween. We talked about this, remember? Using the steps and fear of the guests to power Danny’s stuff?” And the entire rest of the house, but Frighty only cared about Danny.

And had been over this with him and Danny both half a dozen times.

As always, the mention of fear perked him up.

“Ah, yes! Using their own terror against them to power our devices! And… how does that relate to the electricity?” He asked, a little suspiciously.

Well, if he paid attention this time Jason might not have to go through it again. Putting his reclaimed box down, he leaned against the table it had been on.

“It’s called piezoelectricity. Harper’s sensors in the floor detect where people are walking, and the receptors take the extra energy when their feet hit the ground and turn it into electricity. The faster they walk, or if they start to run, the more energy gets converted, and since the electricity powers the lights, sounds, and fog machine, the more people react the more intense the house gets.”

It was actually surprisingly harmless for Harper; she hadn’t even put in any of the small shock plates that had found their way across the floors. That had been all Frighty, and as soon as they found out where he’d gotten them, they’d be going back. Once Danny phased them back out.

Silence reigned for a long moment, and for once the Spirit of Halloween seemed to be really chewing over and digesting this information. Jason let himself hope.

“So… the electricity… it’s definitely not for shocking the unwary intruders?” Halloween asked, with just the faintest tinge of hope still in his own voice.

Fighting not to let his die, Jason shook his head.

“Nope.”

“Not even as a backup plan?”

“Nope. We want people to come and visit, Frighty, that’s the whole point.”

“But what if your enemies use this opportunity to infiltrate your stronghold?” Fright Knight asked boldly, drawing himself up like he was even now standing against such foes.

Jason bit back a grin.

“It’s not a stronghold, Sir Halloween. There’s nothing here they could use against us.”

Silence again.

Then.

“Not even just a little shock?”

“Still nope,” Jason shook his head, arms folded. Safely hiding where his fingers pinched the skin just below his ribcage, holding in a laugh.

Fright Knight was practically pleading.

“Just a small one? A little static shock? They probably won’t even die from it,” he wheedled, and Jason had to stifle a snicker in a cough.

“No! Look, most people will be wearing rubber soled shoes anyway. They wouldn’t even notice,” he pointed out in what was a mostly level voice.

Fright Knight huffed, turning away and grumbling under his breath.

“Rubber can be made to melt…”

Aaaand they were back on that again. Stepping forward, Jason caught him by the shoulder, schooling his face to his most earnest expression.

“You know your advice is always appreciated, Sir Halloween, and the king and I take it very seriously. Should we ever need such traps, you’re the very first person we’ll ask. But this is a diplomatic venture, and chivalry demands we not allow harm to come to our guests.”

It was a line they’d used before; the very first explanation Jason had hoped the bombastic ghost might understand. And he did, usually.

He just. Didn’t seem to remember it. But then, he wasn’t exactly the overly chivalrous kind of knight.

And once again, Halloween drew himself up and pounded on his chest, nodding seriously.

“Of course, Sir Jason! And I shall ensure that this venture of yours is of the utmost success! With no traps that shall interfere with the Harper woman’s electronics,” he added in a low grumble, probably hoping that Jason wouldn’t notice that he hadn’t just said “no traps”.

Again. Former Robin.

Buuuut so long as they turned the traps off before guests showed up, there was no reason he couldn’t ask the other Bats to come do a pre-show run through and see what they made of it.

Pretending to be oblivious, he turned and scooped up the power drill he’d originally come to the storeroom for and saluted the ghost with it.

“Always appreciated, Sir Halloween.”

Danny stuck his hand through the wall, brows furrowed in concentration. He could have used the panel about three feet further down, but then he’d have to reach around at an awkward angle, or yank cables to pull the bundle closer.

Honestly, in his plans the circuitboard should have lined up near perfectly with the damn panel; he’d done his measurements and everything before he started! But no, it was all the way over here, and now he had to deal with this

It was almost like something had snapped off the supports and tangled all the wires up…

There were more cables than there should be.

Again.

No, wait, the intruder wasn’t a cable. It felt… like a rope?

Fighting the urge to bang his head against the wall, he sighed heavily. The temptation to just yank the damn thing out was tempered only by the sounds of construction, impromptu karaoke, and occasional screams of every other member of the project.

Who knew what Fright Knight had rigged this one to do, or where it would actually go off? Other than, y’know, completely fucking his own wiring.

Danny breathed out slowly through his nose, shifting his grip until he was only touching his wiring and not the rope, and phased the whole lot through. He’d turned almost everything off to go wire-spelunking anyway, so it should-

A loud thunk behind him preceded a sudden silence where a low humming had been pretty much ignorable. Danny grimaced, but kept going until the junction was back in place at the access panel before letting it rejoin the physical world.

The ghost shield didn’t immediately power back up, but that was fine. He could give it a couple kicks, maybe try a hard reboot if it was really fussing.

More importantly, he had to find what the hell the Spirit of Halloween had done now. His ecto-accelerator was working as expected, and blob ghosts would all be kept around to feed on the concentrated ectoplasm anyway.

Really, he’d been shutting the shield down anyway to let Halloween in and out.

Maybe he should stop doing that…

Then Danny brightened up.

It was Jason’s fault Halloween was here at all. And it was Jason’s class’s haunted house.

This wasn’t a Danny problem, this was a Jason problem. And maybe next time the stubborn fuck would listen when Danny said something was a bad idea.

Humming cheerfully, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent off a quick text, wandering idly back towards the ghost shield generator. One quick kick and it chugged back into life, good as new.

He was gonna have to put some internal batteries in on the next rebuild though. It had to be able to survive a power cut to be worth anything in Gotham.

Flicking into his notes app, he added it to the list of improvements.

While he didn’t actually know where Jason was, he was pretty sure he wasn’t close enough to hear Jason’s response to his text. That was fine though, because he could feel the pulse of exasperated-resigned-annoyed the second he saw it.

Humming happily to himself, he dug out the extra set of cords to let the lights dim in time with any power surges from the ghost shield. It’d only take a few seconds now that the damn board was back in the right place, and should add some extra spooky ambiance once the house started seeing guests and he turned off the accelerator to let the blob ghosts play.

Really, he owed Harper for the idea. He’d been explaining to her how the little guys always chewed on power cables, lack of physical teeth or not, just to get to the current. And technically what she’d actually said was “man it’d be cool if we could get them to fuck with the lights”.

And technically Danny could probably have trained them to actually play with light switches. This would be much easier though, and interestingly random as the blobs bounced around.

All he had to do was hook up these last few connections… and test it out.

And since Halloween was clearly around anyway… he was definitely big enough to make the ghost shield hum a bit. That’d be great for calibration.

And he owed Danny for fucking up his circuitry with his latest booby trap anyway. It all worked out nicely really.

By the time Jason poked his head through the door, Danny was just finishing the last of his adjustments, almost every wire properly soldered into place.

“What’s he done now?” Jason sighed heavily, exasperation both so clear and so clearly a put on that even a normal human would probably feel it radiating off him.

Danny nodded towards the stretch of wall near where he’d last seen the rope.

“No idea, but he’s tied something to something else that got in the way of the ghost shield controls. I fixed that, the inevitable booby trap is all yours,” he added sweetly, blowing Jason a kiss as best he could with both hands busy.

Jason pretended to chomp it out of the air like a shark, and then puke it out. He was getting creative.

Danny could respect that.

“Great, thanks,” he said sarcastically, then frowned at the offending section of drywall. “Is there-“

“No, the access panel is over here,” Danny told him brightly, twisting the last screw down to hold all of the less permanent wires in place. Really, at some point he should probably put a casing over the whole mess. Keep any damp or curious critters out.

But any curious critters were going to be a little busy avoiding curious ghosties, and the ghosties wouldn’t try and move the wires. That’d stop them from being able to siphon the electricity.

Little fuckers.

Maybe also some extra ghost shielding. Hell, the power going into the shield was controlled from this panel, and the main power cables were nicely strung along the back. How hard could it be to extend a little extra shielding…

Jason cut him off from the thought with a heavy, dramatic sigh, thunking heavily into the wall just beside Danny.

“Great. We got time to take another panel out and fix it again?” He asked semi-redundantly, taking in Danny and Heather’s carefully applied pattern of sprayed on filth and decay.

Grinning and straightening, Danny cracked his back and moaned happily.

“In your dreams. Halloween’s a week away, and we open this weekend.”

“So how do you want me to track the trap, your majesty?” Jason asked with a heavy roll of his eyes.

Danny grinned up at him. All the brighter for the sass.

“Oh, that’s not my problem. I’m not the one who said he could be such a huge help,” he shot back cheerfully, taking the moment to roll out his shoulders and do a couple of twists too.

He spent a lot of time hunched over between classwork and this little side quest, and while he wasn’t suffering for it yet, he’d rather not start.

“Besides, do you have anything else to do?” He pointed out with a cheeky grin.

Jason raised an eyebrow at him, arms folded.

“About a million things, yeah. But none more important than making sure our guests don’t get electrocuted,” he added with a sigh, turning to frown at the wall. Reached out and knocked against it gently. “Wish I could just bring the hood out.”

“A little x-ray vision would be a big help,” Danny agreed, already looking for his next task. Would he have time to fuck with the ghost shield a little more to protect the board?

Probably not. While the machine itself was already doing excellent work as the centrepiece of a truly excellent mad science lab (although not up to Fenton standards), it still needed a quick coat of grime of its own, and probably some webbing.

Most of the rest of this room was ready, between Harper’s piezo-floors and Heather’s expert spray paint skills. So long as the shield could affect the lights throughout the house, he could probably finish here in half an hour.

Or delegate to Heather, once all the parts of the ghost shield were safely protected from rogue spray.

Danny could have run by the 3D printers in the Makers Club for some custom shielding pieces, but why bother? Leaning into his toolbox, he pulled out a roll of duct tape.

Glancing back, he was pleased to see Jason’s quiet was because the big guy had already stuck his head in the wall.

Sure, officially no one here was supposed to know about either of their ghost powers (Harper being the obvious exception), but no one was around. And it’d save time dismantling the trap so they could get back to work.

The Lit nerds had come up with the full floor plan by themselves, and while only a couple of them got nail gun privileges, they’d all been excited to get hands on.

And had clearly been relying on their giant tank of a nerd for some of the more hard to reach set up.

Danny could get it floating, or they could schlep ladders around, but why bother when Jason could reach the top of every doorframe already?

Once Jason was done dismantling yet another booby trap.

Reaching out with a foot, Danny gave him a light kick in the ass, knocking a shoulder into the wall.

“Dude, just go invisible and trace it directly. Painting’s gotta be finished tonight to be dry for tomorrow,” he reminded the larger man when Jason pulled his head out to glare at him.

“Such insightful. Very wisdom,” he snarked, straightening himself and returning said glare to the wall.

Danny snickered.

“I’ll tell Tucker you’re after his Miette status.”

“I’ll tell him you called him that again,” Jason shot back immediately, flipping Danny off without looking.

Touché.

Rather than concede the point, Danny got back to his own efforts instead. Time to tape up any cracks and crevices except the heat vents… and yeah, actually, putting a suitably ratty bag or strip on linen to cover those (both for spray paint protection and to flap dramatically) would only add to the atmosphere.

“Just get going while we’re still young and pretty.”

He could feel Jason’s amusement too, a warm balm on his back even over the exasperated-tired-over it from Fright Knight’s continued escapades. Felt it when Jason changed, his aura amping up automatically with his ghost form.

“Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you get your subject in line and remind him we’re not trying to kill anyone?” Jason asked, immediately phasing through the wall to get the last word.

Danny rolled his eyes despite the grin, carefully taping around the joins in the main control panel.

“What, again?” He muttered under his breath, chuckling softly.

As far as he was aware, more than half the problem was that ol’ Halloween wasn’t actually all that clear on what was lethal to humans at all. And that? That wasn’t a problem Danny could solve.

Technically, he could Command the spirit to stop putting up booby traps. Force him into an advisory role only.

(And yeah, Danny had to admit, for all he was a pain in the ass? He’d been right about adding a couple extra googly eyes in covert spots on the bubbling slimes. Super creepy when one rolled up and looked at you.)

Except that Danny hated using his Command on anyone, even when they were being a pain in his ass. It was creepy, kinda gross, and made him feel like a dick.

Besides, with ghosts it was actually way politer to just smack someone upside the head if they were being a shit. Hell, that was usually why they were being a shit.

Danny hesitated, a new thought blooming slowly.

Could… that be why Halloween was being a pain in the ass? Jason’s training hours had been cut back, but their time spent with the original Fright Knight was actually going up now that he was “helping” with the house.

Did he just want their attention? Or was he bored enough to fish around indirectly for a little ghostly rumble?

That would also have to be Jason’s problem, he decided with a philosophical shrug. Like most of the other older ghosts, the old Fright Knight actually avoided throwing down with Danny these days.

Whether it was the same fear that made him bend the knee to Pariah Dark or just plain not wanting to risk even a temporary win and the burden of the crown didn’t actually matter. It wasn’t loyalty; Halloween had been eager enough to bend the knee to Dan, but Dan also commanded him to run around wreaking terror and mayhem.

Danny mostly just asked him to wrestle with any ghosts who tried anything in Amity Park while he was gone; a duty Halloween kicked ass at and seemed to be taking seriously, but wasn’t his idea of fun.

But hey, it got him out of his pumpkin, and out of his lair without the fear of someone trying to seal him again. So long as Frighty mostly obeyed Danny’s orders, no one could even try it without having Danny come kick their ass.

Maybe Danny should let him wreak a little havoc in Gotham on Halloween though. As a treat.

Not his usual “turn inanimate objects into hordes of ghosts to take over the world” shtick, but since Scarecrow usually had dibs on the holiday (and was still decidedly out of action), some of the up and coming rogues were looking to make a name for themselves.

A not particularly nice smile pulled at Danny’s lips.

After all… apparently no one else had ever tried anything on Halloween while Crane was out and about. It could only be a good thing for Gotham as a whole if someone else staked an emphatic claim this year.

Aaaand it’d keep Frighty out from under their feet, or setting up any more booby traps while they got the last details into place.

If any of the bats objected, they could take that up with Jason too. After all, this whole thing was his idea.

The Spirit of Halloween drifted through the house, muttering disconsolately to himself.

All he wanted to do was what he’d been asked; to improve this “haunted house” his king was constructing.

It was certainly a better effort than the one which had first brought the ghost boy to his lair; that had been a single room, and a rather pathetic showing. Bouncy spiders, inflatable figures, utterly unfrightening.

This house had some real potential! Between the elaborate traps the humans were setting in each room and the far more convincing decor, it would be so easy to make something truly terrifying.

All it needed was some more sharp edges… something a little heavier to hang above the doors… and while apparently electrical traps were out of the question, he was sure that something horrific could be done with those powered floors.

Possibly an eject port. Those were new and the potential fascinated him ever since the doctors Fenton showed off their new flying seats.

If the king would only give him a chance, Halloween was sure he could turn this building into a true House of Horrors.

But no. Once again, his ideas were discarded. They would undo his modifications to the floor (and frankly he was rather pleased with how he’d managed to warp its purpose without transforming it into an independent entity; he’d needed to make use of young Sir Jason’s “phone” to learn to adjust the voltage the human way. He’d used his hands and everything because the king did not want him using his blade).

Honestly, why would you invite such an expert if you did not wish to use his advice?

And he wasn’t even supposed to let these foolish humans know he was here, so he couldn’t properly howl his woes to the winds.

Grumbling under his breath instead, he stalked back to the nest of wires he’d modified. If his work were to be undone, he could do it. He was here to help, if they’d just let him.

“Who the hell are you?” A sharp voice asked from behind him as he knelt before the nest, and he froze.

He wasn’t in the habit of being covert; that had been about the most interesting part of the whole debacle thus far.

He wasn’t a stealthy ghost. His presence was part of his armoury, inspiring fear and awe in all who could see him coming. Which only worked if they saw him coming.

He’d forgotten to be invisible.

For all that the king’s wishes had been annoyingly vague, there was just one thing he’d been explicitly clear on.

No mortals were to see him.

Very slowly, his helmet creaked around to face the glowering young mortal woman in the doorway, her hands on her hips.

He. Could. Use the Soul Shredder to send her to her own nightmare dimension. Then no one would know she’d seen him.

Except that the king had forbidden him from using his sword. And the young knight liked the woman Harper and would likely notice her absence.

Wretched nuisance.

She also didn’t seem the sort to scare easily, which he usually appreciated in a foe.

Even under the glare of his blazing purple eyes, she marched straight up to him, hands on her hips, and glowered.

“Are you the asshole who’s been fucking with my power supply?” She asked sharply, actually prodding! Prodding him! With her feeble mortal finger!

And he was unable to appropriately respond!

And if she were a true ally of his king, simply fading from sight would only affirm what he was in her mind…

For a brief moment, he wondered if he could persuade her that he was the Box Ghost, but discarded the idea immediately. No, he was no coward to hide behind another’s name!

Especially not that lowlife.

He would face the punishment from his king, content at least in the knowledge that it would be just, and would not maim or destroy him.

Which meant not smiting the puny mortal who’d rumbled his plans.

Unless…

She was an ally to the young knight. And fearless. And endeavouring to build and properly haunt this house. Perhaps she could be of aid to his own mission…

Which meant he had to be (a grimace hidden entirely under his helmet) tactful. Appealing even.

Straightening to his full height, he then bowed just below hers.

“Indeed, Dame Harper. I must apologize; Sir Jason has informed me of the true intent of your most excellent devices, so I came to repair what I have wrought.” It grated on him, a ghost of his calibre forced to treat any human as an equal… but less than it used to.

A useful opponent, and a worthy one, was hard enough to find. And… horror of horrors… under his new king, he was almost… getting used to it.

She didn’t seem overly impressed, folding her arms and giving him another, more sceptical once over.

“Yeah… and from that get up, I’m gonna guess you’re probably not from the university,” she said dryly.

The Spirit of Halloween cursed internally. Of course! That would have been the perfect excuse! A mere student in a costume! His time of year was all about disguises!

Yet already he’d declared his association to the younger Fright Knight by use of his title. She had already seen through such a potential escape.

Still, it meant she was observant. Passably intelligent. Good marks in an ally.

Better to act like he’d never intended to deceive her, though. It may let him glean some more insight into just how trusted she was.

“I am not.

From lands beyond and sights unseen

Your cohorts called upon me for aid

To plan a magnificent Halloween

So that all who enter be truly afraid.”

One of his better works off the cuff, he thought a little smugly… then deflated a little.

“I was not aware your devices were not some form of trap,” he added in more normal tones.

The corner of her mouth twitched upwards, although her stern expression did not change.

“Uh huh. Yeah, ghost bullshit was gonna be my next guess. You thought the generators were a trap?” She asked, a little incredulously.

Sir Halloween shifted uncomfortably. He still wasn’t used to explaining himself, and wasn’t sure how little he could get away with.

“I believed them an excellent tactic to terrify and incapacitate any land-bound intruders,” he agreed cautiously.

Definitely a smile pulling at her lips this time, though she fought it. Perhaps she would be more amenable to his suggestions than the halfas…

The Harper woman sighed and uncrossed her arms, hands on her hips once more.

“I guess they would work pretty well for that… but nah. I prefer more direct methods if I’m gonna fry someone, don’t want anyone else getting caught in the crossfire,” she added with a wicked gleam in her eye that he very much liked.

Then she pointed her chin at the wiring he’d been about to restore.

“Go ahead and fix that up then, and I’ll decide if I forgive you.”

Commands from a mortal rankled, but it was to do as he’d intended anyway. And would give him more time to assess her potential.

From his understanding, this woman no longer hunted the night, but had been a mighty hunter while nought but a child. Those habits were hard to break.

About to turn back to the panel, he hesitated. If. She was going to watch him work. He would need to remain visible.

And there were far too many mortals in the house.

“Ah… Dame Harper. I have been commanded to remain unseen by those unaware of the Infinite Realms. If you wish to observe, we shall need to ensure others do not come across me.” He hoped she would assume that he hadn’t been meant to hide from her.

He wasn’t sure if he’d succeeded as her smile became distinctly wider and far more devious, looking him up and down one last time.

“No one’s allowed to know about ghosts, huh? And you’re not exactly a subtle one. No worries, I have the perfect plan.”

Grumbling to himself as he pulled the last of the blades from the swinging arms Sir Spookier-Than-Thou had set up through the upstairs and downstairs hall, Jason gave the mechanism one last look.

He could dismantle the whole thing if he had to, but that’d take time. And besides, it was pretty good work.

All he had to do was slow the swing a little, find something a little more family friendly to add to each arm, and it’d be a pretty bangin’ addition to their haunted house.

He wasn’t sure if he should tell the Spirit of Halloween that or not; if he’d feel better knowing his work was appreciated, or get over excited and back on his bullshit.

Either way, someone was going to cart these mysteriously glowing blades back to the Ghost Zone that they’d surely come from, and it wasn’t gonna be him. About six of his classmates were waiting on him to help with some final additions, and while most of it could pretty easily have been done with a scaffold, they didn’t have time to build one.

Not when Jason could just reach up.

Or a couple of the other guys could just stand on a bucket, but hey. His room was pretty much complete, all he needed was to test the spring loaded launchers on his “batarangs” and he was done.

(The day he’d discovered the cute, stylized little marshmallow bats he’d known exactly what he had to do with them. B was just lucky it had been close enough to Halloween that Jason decided to go with this first.

It did make a nice test run for the Bat Cave though.)

There might be a couple more cosmetic tweaks, some spit and polish, but he’d be essentially ready.

They weren’t exactly in competition, no scoring or voting or anything, but the Lit geeks in particular had been gushing and bragging about their own horror rooms from day one. Some of them were honestly really impressive; Heather’s 13 Ghosts setup that Danny had hooked the ghost shield into was extremely well designed, and used pretty much every inch of the master bedroom.

Ray and Tyra had both gone with more classic horror (and adjoining rooms; Jason particularly liked the chase from Tyra’s Grimm fairytale forest to Ray’s werewolf lair), and they actually had four different set ups featuring Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

While those might have been more obscure before Dracula Daily (and included less internet jokes), Jason enjoyed the narrative that started in the back room of the first floor, up the stairs (the road to castle), a gorgeous crypt, and then the final ascent to the roof and the opportunity for guests to “climb” down the wall (in lizard fashion, obviously) over an air bag or take the “Descent To Hell” (an inflatable red twirly slide that Danny still wanted to slick with dish soap. Jason and OSHA both disagreed).

There wasn’t exactly a unifying theme beyond “horror”, but they had at least planned ahead enough to group the rooms by type. The decorations along the halls to gradually show the genre changes would be the last things going up, but Jason was pretty sure the new swinging arms would be a great addition.

It wouldn’t be a seamless change, but it would be on brand.

And sure, technically his own Phantom of the Opera room was also one of the outliers from a thematic and stylistic perspective (because he’d chosen the book, not the stage show - although he had snagged the score and had a play around in an editing suite for background music).

He’d taken the “basement” for the forgotten halls below the opera house, so it didn’t really matter that his dripping stone, hall of mirrors, and final Grand Decision were a lot more classically gothic than the rugged and rural first floor, or the more urban and scifi second. He’d been able to source a bunch of old theatre dressings from a recent rogue attack, so it had been easy to set the bones up.

It was a great house, and while he’d been a little worried about the size when they’d drawn up the plans, they were pretty much on schedule.

Despite the interference of the Spirit of Halloween.

Who was gonna go drop stuff off in the Ghost Zone, and maybe just stay there until the night itself. Jason couldn’t give the command or make it stick, but Danny could, and probably would if the Spirit mucked with his new tech one more time.

For all that he insisted this whole mess was Jason’s fault (and therefore Jason’s problem), he was the one who decided how far any of it went.

Wondering idly what he could suggest to get Frighty back under Danny’s feet, he tossed the last blade in a decidedly triangular box and hoisted it quickly.

He wasn’t entirely sure what the blades were made of, or what they’d do (the Soul Shredder was a unique weapon that he hadn’t made himself, but Jason had no idea what he could make), but he wanted the Box Ghost to get his hands on them even less than he wanted his fellow students to.

All he had to do was find ol’ Halloween… and the big guy never really bothered to shield himself. It took very little focus to expand his aura through the rest of the house these days, and he didn’t even need to get past the first floor. The Spirit of Halloween was at the back, the room below Danny’s where Harper had her main boards and batteries set up for ease of use.

(It wasn’t technically part of the attraction, but she’d still made it look spooky and on theme in case anyone peeked around the door.)

But the Fright Knight had better be in there fixing things or hiding from people, not fucking with the piezoelectrics again, or Jason was gonna start a training session of his own on the spot.

(Not that he’d reliably win a regular fight; he was damn good, but the Spirit of Halloween was older, more used to ghost powers, and loved his sword and duels almost as much as he loved poetry and terrorizing the wretched.

But on Earth, with more than half of their powers denied them by Danny’s rules? Jason could come for his ass.)

————

Listen. This is not the universe for short oneshots, okay?

But there are some sneaky hints for the road ahead in our main timeline too, for attentive eyes 👀

Happy Halloween!

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #halloween #danny fenton dead and loving it #dfdali #dead and loving it halloween special #the haunting of hood house #danny and jason make a haunted house!#all will go perfectly well #i promise #for sure #no issues anywherw #happy halloween’

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