#and it turned out he knew

[knnchk]

.

[shanklin]

Sentient Mystery Shack, who is really biased towards Stan, so when Ford tells Stan he has to give it back after the summer it’s on sight.

Ford keeps tripping over nothing, nothing is where it's supposed to be and somehow he keeps running into closets when he tries to go outside.

But the worst part, the WORST part is that Ford's lightbulb just won't. Work. No matter what he does it keeps flickering and exploding.

Ford is spiraling. 

There is no reason why it shoudln’t work. All his trial runs work perfectly. He’s already checked the Shacks wiring three times and relearned this dimensions science from the ground up. 

Nothing works.

The Rift? Bill? The impending apocalypse? Eating? Sleep? Who cares about that. 

WHY. WONT. THE. LIGHTBULB. WORK???

It doesn’t help that Stan keeps laughing at him.

“Then you do it!” Ford eventually snaps at Stan.

Stan shrugs and with a little song under his breath screws his own lightbulb in. It works perfectly.

Stanford screams.

[demigods-posts]

sometimes. i just have to remind myself that percy took annabeth to paris. like, canonically. he forgot their one-month anniversary. and took his girl to paris to make up for it. the standards are in elysium.

[morganbritton132]

Eddie tells Wayne everything. They’re very open and honest with each other. Always have been.

Steve, on the other hand, does not talk to his parents unless he absolutely has to. If they asked him what his favorite song was, he’d lie.

So, it’s a bit of a shock when they’re back in Eddie’s bedroom, making out. Things are getting heated and Steve can hear Eddie fumbling one-handed in the drawer of his nightstand right before he mutters, “Shit.”

Steve asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” Eddie says, pulling back a bit. “Just give me a second.”

Steve watches him slide off the bed, throw open the door, and practically shout, “Hey Wayne, do you got any condoms?”

Steve is so mortified that he dissociates for a second and then leaves out the window so he doesn’t have to pass Wayne on the way out.

[kindnessoverperfection]

Please, if you can, take a moment to read and share this because I feel like I'm screaming underwater.

NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) stigma is rampant right now, and seems to be getting progressively worse. Everyone is using it as a buzzword in the worst ways possible, spreading misinformation and hatred against a real disorder.

I could go on a long time about how this happened, why it's factually incorrect (and what the disorder actually IS), why it's harmful, and the changes I'd like to see. But to keep this concise, I'll simply link to a few posts under the cut for further reading.

The point of this post is a plea. Please help stop the spread of stigma. Even in mental health communities, even around others with personality disorders, in neurodivergent "safe" spaces, other communities I thought people would be supportive in (e.g. trans support groups, progressive spaces in general), it keeps coming up. So I'm willing to bet that a lot of people on this site need to see this.

Because it's so hard to exist in this world.

My disorder already makes me feel as if I'm worthless and unlovable, like there's something inherently wrong and damaged about me. And it's so much harder to fight that and heal when my daily life consists of:

Laughing and spending time with my friends, doing my utmost best to connect and stay present and focused on them, trying to let my guards down and be real and believe I'm lovable- when suddenly they throw out the word "narcissist" to describe horrible people or someone they hate, or the conversation turns to how evil "people with narcissistic personality disorder" are. (Seriously, you don't know which of your friends might have NPD and feels like shit when you say those things & now knows that you'd hate them if you knew.)

Trying to look up "mental health positivity for people with npd", "mental health positivity cluster bs", only to find a) none of that, and b) more of the same old vile shit that makes me feel terrible about myself.

Having a hard time (which is constant at this point) and trying to look up resources for myself, only to again, find the same stigma. And no resources.

Not having any clue how to help myself, because even the mental health field is spitting so much vitriol at people with DISORDERS (who they're supposed to be helping!) that there's no solid research or therapy programs for people like me.

Losing close friends when they find out, despite us having had a good relationship before, and them KNOWING me and knowing that I'm not like the trending image of pwNPD. Because now they only see me through the lens of stigma and misinformation.

Hearing the same stigma come up literally wherever I go. Clubs. Meetings. Any online space. At the bus stop. At the mall. At a restaurant. At work. Buzzword of the year that everyone loooves loudly throwing around with their friends or over the phone. Feels awesome for me, makes my day so much better/s

I could go on for a long time, but I'm scared no one will read/rb this if it gets too much longer.

So please. Stop using the word "narcissist" as a synonym for "abusive".

Stop bringing up people you hate who you believe to have NPD because of a stigmatizing article full of misinformation whenever someone with actual NPD opens their mouth. (Imagine if people did that with any other disorder! "Hey, I'm autistic." "Oh... my old roommate screamed at me whenever I made noise around him, and didn't understand my needs, which seems like sensory overload and difficulty with social cues. He was definitely autistic. But as long as you're self-aware and always restraining your innate desire to be an abusive asshole, you're okay I guess, maybe." ...See how offensive and ignorant that is?)

Stop preventing healthcare for people with a disorder just because it's trendy to use us as a scapegoat.

If you got this far, thank you for reading, and please share this if you can. Further reading is under the cut.

NPD Criteria, re-written by someone who actually has NPD

Stigma in the DSM

Common perception of the DSM criteria vs how someone may actually experience them (Keep in mind that this is the way I personally experience these symptoms, and that presentation can vary a lot between individuals)

"Idk, the stigma is right though, because I've known a lot of people with NPD who are jerks, so I'm going to continue to support the blockage of treatment for this condition."

(All of these were written by me, because I didn't want to link to other folks' posts without permission, but if you want to add your own links in reblogs or replies please feel free <3)

[uncanny-tranny]

Little things adults and older people can do to help younger people and children feel included, safe, and respected as an equal individual:

Ask before touching the young person - even for hugs. Ask before you take pictures of them, and let them see photographs of them before they are printed or sent to others (even family).

Apologize when you are wrong

Ask for a young persons thoughts on a subject, then engage with them after they have spoken

Demonstrate behaviour you want to see from them (see: apologizing). Say "excuse me," say "thank you," say "please" to them

Validate their feelings, even if they don't know how to express them just yet

Remember that this is the first time they've been alive, and that you've had way longer to "figure it out"

These are some things I wish other adults remembered when engaging with young folks. We so often forget what childhood felt like and how unfair it all was because we were often awarded freedoms as adults that we never had as children. These kids are equal to adults, and they deserve the same courtesy, respect, kindness, and understanding we give to other adults.

[bunnieswithknives]

Thanks.

Prev

[bagginshieldfamily]

Something I need the fix it AU writers who use Frodo as Bagginsgields child to focus more on:

Gimli meeting a hobbit that looks strangely like Thorin Oakenshield but has the last name Baggins before connecting the dots:

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

oh hey! i was reading a fic the other day where Wangji was once misspelled as Wangu. which leads me to: MDZS Pingu-style??? noot noot!

Do you think love can bloom on the sea ice?

[numberonetacostan]

Obliviously fruity vs excellent gaydar (inspired by @justin-chapmanswers's last stream lol)

[teyrnacousland]

I've seen the headcanon that Lucanis' mother, Caterina's perfect heir, was actually similar to Illario in some ways. That she was calculating, ruthless, ambitious, obedient... all the things Caterina overlooks in Illario because Caterina sees her favourite daughter's deep brown eyes and quiet, controlled demeanor and careful planning in Lucanis.

But I am also attached to the idea that the opposite is true too. That Illario's mother shared similarities with Lucanis; that she was empathetic and stubborn, with a slight rebellious streak. But she was always outgoing and charming, was more impulsive with her emotions, and was always sharper with her tongue than with a sword, so Caterina only sees her in Illario.

I just love the idea that Caterina can't look beyond the surface and see who her grandsons really are because on some level she can't see past the ghosts reflected in their eyes. She can't see that the quiet brown eyed boy is is more of the gentle hearted rebel, and the one with blue eyes and a shining, fake smile is the ruthless leader who would do anything she asked.

[fiasco95]

Regulus comes out wearing a black crossover skort, grey sleeveless crop top with black knee high laced up combat boots. To top it off he has make-up on; baby pink eyeshadow adorned with small yet sharp winged eyeliner. Tinted light red lipstick.

Regulus, twirling in place for James: So? Looks good?

James backing Regulus up to bathroom door he just came out of. Places his hand on the door next to his head. James quietly and hungrily eyes Regulus up and down.

Regulus, knowing what’s about to happen, turns around to open the door: No. Stop. This is my outfit for the concert you’re not-!

James pushes the door close.

James, without turning his head and continues to drink Regulus in: Love you, Pete. But get out.

Regulus, begging Peter with his eyes: No. Peter I swear to g-

Peter without having to be told twice already opening the front door: Will wait for you in the car! Mwah!

Regulus ended up being driven to the concert by James instead. James also has to buy Regulus 10 albums to compensate for ruining his outfit and makeup that day.

James is okay with that. (He will do it again.)

[starry-bi-sky]

fast food is the best course of action after causing a scene. ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴʏᴀʟ ᴀʟ ɢʜᴜʟ ᴀᴜ

(First Post Here and Second Post Here

--------

Danny finds Sam easily.

She's right where she said she was over the phone: standing outside on a balcony, in Gotham, at Father's many charity functions. 

("Would you still be willing to fly over to Gotham, Danny?" She asks, her voice ringing clear through the speakers. Danny is already climbing out his window before she even finishes her sentence. He was just about to settle down for the night, his ghosts would know better by now than to disturb him at this time. The Box Ghost not included.)

("Of course." He says, sounding more confident than he feels. Sam was one of his best— closest friends, he would do anything she or Tucker asked. Even if it means stepping foot into his Father's city. He drops down silently, and walks through the house's ghost shield. "Would you like me to bring you anything?")

(Sam sighs through the phone, relief leaking through. "One of the veggie burgers from Nasty Burgers would be great, with their new ecto-fries. Extra salt. I'm sick of all this rich people food.")

(A small smile pulls across Danny's face, tilting at the corner as his living form falls away to his ghost self. "Alright," he says, and kicks himself off the ground, "I'll be there in a few minutes.")

("Thanks, Danny.")

He had the bag of food with him, stored in a container he had to run back to the house to get that would prevent the food from cooling during his flight over. Clutching it in hand, he floats down behind Sam and sheds his invisibility.

Being visible and being invisible always felt different, but in a way Danny can never describe, no matter how many times he tries to think about it. It's like a gut-feeling, a sixth sense, he always knows when he's visible and when he is not.

His ghost form burns away like steel wool being lit, and Danny drops the last foot to the ground silently. In his other hand lies his thermos, but filled with plain ectoplasm — lazarus water. "I have your food." 

(He brought the thermos for himself — his side was still healing from his last fight with Technus. The ghost impaled him with a broken pipe, and Danny returned the favor by wedging his sword into his chest. Technus had been quite offended by him ruining his favorite coat.)

Sam jumps a foot into the air, and her hand slams across her mouth to muffle the shriek she lets out as she whirls around. "Danny!" She hisses, her voice rising in pitch, and her eyes narrow at him into a glare. "Freaking-- Tucker's right, we seriously need to put a bell on you."

"You have been saying that for years," Danny grins, sharp-toothed and jack-knifed, and passes the container over to her. "And yet I've yet to see any kind of bell." He was going to start getting disappointed at this rate.

As Sam takes the container, Danny hops up onto the railing and looks around. He hadn't seen any of Father's other children lurking around the building before he revealed himself, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking that their stealth skills were poor.

He wasn't that arrogant.

...Anymore.

"Oh you will." Sam threatens, unzipping the container and grabbing the takeout bag. "I'll get you a collar and everything, we can start calling you Catwoman." When she pulls out her fries, Danny snaps forward and steals one from the box, ignoring her indignant yell as he pops it into his mouth.

"I spent my own money on these fries, Sam." He sniffs, leaning away from her with a stifled huff of laughter as she swats at him. "So they are technically my fries. And also, Catwoman would be a poor thief if she wore a bell."

Sam grumbles at him, and takes a bite out of a handful of fries. "I'll venmo you money." She says past a mouthful of food, Danny would have been disgusted in the past, when he was still new. But he's gotten used to this... normality. So he makes no reaction to it. "How does three hundred bucks sound?"

Danny immediately frowns.

"Did you have a fight with your parents?" He asks, eyes glancing to the doors. Doors that are covered heavily by curtains and blurred heavily, decadent music passing through in muffled sounds. He shifts himself away from the light. "You only spend that much money when they've pissed you off."

Sam's chewing stops, and her annoyed expression falters into one Danny knows well -- hurt, furrowed brows, a small frown, disappointment -- and she turns her head away from him. She swallows. "Yeah." she says, quiet.

Oh.

Danny knows that tone too.

Guilt settles like a rock in his chest. He leans forward, "Was it about me again?" He wasn't blind to the disdain Sam's parents had for him, far from it. This wasn't the first time Sam had gotten into a fight with them over her friendship with him and Tucker. But especially him. He unsettled people, even after years of observing his age-mates and trying to mimic their behavior, and anyone who knew him in middle school knew it was an act.  

Sam's silence gives him all the confirmation he needs, and the guilt heavies itself with the weight of the sky. Danny's never much cared about others' opinions of him -- he is (was?) an Al Ghul, they never heed to mind what the weight of a simpleton's thoughts.

But.. he cares a little a lot when it hurts his friends like this. He presses his lips together into a thin line, and forces the words out through his teeth. It sounds robotic. Al Ghul's do not apologize. "I... am sorry." But this one does. It doesn’t come easy. 

Sam sighs through her nose, and turns to roll her eyes at him. "Don't apologize on their behalf when you won't even apologize for your own; their assholes." She says, and goes reaching for more fries.

It's a sign, a signal. A silent word for the conversation to move on, to change. A distraction. Danny grasps it with both hands, and makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. And like he has learned, puts a hand to his chest like a scandalized American southern lady. "I apologize! I apologize plenty."

She snorts. "Only when you think it matters." And pokes him in the ribs sharply with her fry. He withholds a wince and snatches it out of her hands. "You're about as unapologetic as they come, Danny J. Fenton. I've seen you look more sincere when you're trying to drive your sword between Vlad's ribs."

"Stabbing Masters is a very important task for me, Sam." Danny says in only partially faux-seriousness. Masters has yet to realize that Danny had no interest in becoming his son, but he had to (reluctantly) admire his persistence. "Of course I will apply myself to it as best as I can."

He grins triumphantly when Sam laughs, and she reaches over to shove him square in the chest. He barks out a laugh of his own as he grips onto the balcony railing and catches himself at an angle.

"Quit with your method actor talk," Sam retorts, grinning sharply while Danny twists himself back up elegantly. "I know you can talk like a normal person, I've literally seen you do it."

Danny sniffs, and snatches more fries from the carton as revenge. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean, Miss Sam." He says, grin-twisting when Sam rolls her eyes. "My speech has always been this way. This 'normal' you speak of, I do not know it."

She waves her hand dismissively at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But if you keep talking like that, I'm pushing you off the balcony."

"Such violence, Sam."

He gets a laugh again, full of disbelief without any of the annoyance. "I'm gonna be the one that stabs you, oh my god. Pot meet kettle." She looks at him again, smiling.

Danny smiles back, and with a flick of his wrist pulls out a kunai from his sleeve. It was one of the few weapons Mother was able to pass on to him whenever she made her scarce visits. He cherishes it well, along with anything else she was capable of giving him. 

He holds the handle out to her, and watches her face shift from disbelief to shock, then back to disbelief. "Then you're gonna need a weapon to do that." 

"Of course you have a pointy object on you." She mutters, and takes the kunai and puts it in her purse. Danny makes a pleased hum, it resonates low in his core, and drops his hand. "When do you not have a pointy object on you?"

As if to make her point, Danny's hands twist near his side, and he holds his palms up to her, revealing the shobo he had also hidden on him. He gives her a shit-eating grin. "Never." He lowers his hand, and pockets the small weapon once again. 

Sam huffs, "Of course," she repeats, "thanks. I was gonna bring a knife but..."

Danny finishes the sentence for her, kicking his feet idly and knowingly. "The security at the door?" He'd seen them on his flight over the building. It wouldn't do much in the face of the Rogues, but at least they were good at keeping appearances and keeping out the smaller threats.

He rolls his eyes and turns his head away, looking up to the ugly, smog-covered skies. There was no bat signal in the air, and while that was a good thing, Danny almost wished there was. He wanted to see it. "I saw, and I would’ve called Father foolish if he hadn’t hired help. He attracts trouble almost as badly as I do."

"Maybe it's hereditary," Sam jokes, laughing under her breath. With her fries finished, she started on her veggie burger. "At least your dad isn't a vigilante like you are."

Danny smiles wryly. It felt nice to be able to talk more freely about this. That he didn't have to hide the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne, now that Sam knew it from her own accord. Maybe he could have conversations like these more often. Even if it was limited to Bruce Wayne only.

(Even if it felt a little terrifying to know that his father was so close by, close enough that Danny could reach out and touch him. To speak to him. But how would he explain that? And with an audience?)

(He’s wanted to see him since he was a kid, and he still does. It clings onto him like a cough that doesn’t go away after the cold already has, and while it has faded over the years, it clings. His mother’s words still ring in his ears however; it’s not safe. It’s not safe.)

(And isn’t that why he faked his death in the first place? So that his little brother would be safe? Why he gave up the heirship, his home, his Mother, Damian, and his chance to meet his Father? Going to see Father, even now, would be throwing that all away. He has to stay away.)

(Why is Damian with Father if staying with Father was unsafe?) 

He just needed to tell Tucker. Danny wouldn’t keep him out of the loop, he was just as much as his friend as Sam was. His eyes draw towards the door, where the golden glow of lights was still pouring through, where music was playing loudly. "Yeah, fortunately." 

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, and Danny finally cracks open his thermos. The pipe Technus impaled him with was covered in a goo that Danny didn’t recognize, but whatever it was, his injury was taking its time healing. The ectoplasm was speeding it up. 

He isn’t sure what the difference between the ectoplasm that Drs. Fenton collected and Grandfather’s Lazarus pools is, but there’s a difference. He swirls the thermos slowly, watching as the ectoplasm inside twists into a small whirlpool sluggishly. 

When left alone, it thickens into a consistency similar to egg whites, or perhaps a thick smoothie, but reverts back into a water-like substance when moved and swirled. It was strange; unexplainable. He can understand, to an extent, why the Drs. Fenton are so obsessed with studying it and the dimension it comes from. 

Sam watches him idly as he brings the thermos to his lips and drinks from it. The effect is instantaneous, a sense of relief washing over Danny as if someone had put a soothing balm onto an injury. It buzzes down to his fingertips, and when he lowers the thermos, he licks his lips and watches the tips of his fingers burn green like frostbite. 

“Your hair turned white again.” Sam comments, her hand reaching out and touching the hair on the nape of his neck. While it’s not the first time Sam’s touched his hair, it still makes him tense up with her hand so close to his throat. Instinct. dan

He ignores the urge to bat her hand away, humming thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed it does that.” He says, pulling down his bangs to see if they’ve also turned white. No, still black. He lets go. “Let me guess; my eyes are green too?” He lifts the thermos again and peers into the chrome casing. 

Sam nods, “Yep, but it’s only the, uh.” She makes a circle around her eyes with her finger. “The iris part. Everything else is fine.” 

Danny can see that. The faint reflection on the chrome casts back an intense green. He takes another sip. It chills the back of his teeth, and he can feel his canines warp and sharpen. He runs his tongue over them, and swallows. 

Sam is still watching him, her fingers drumming against the balcony railing. “What’s it taste like?” 

“Carbonated.” He says dryly, before taking a large swig. He couldn’t name a specific flavor if he tried, it changed every time he took a sip. The only thing that stayed consistent was that it tasted carbonated. And slightly sweet. When he pulls the thermos away, Danny twists his body towards her and offers it out, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Want to try?” 

Her reaction is immediate. Sam’s nose scrunches up and her mouth twists into a smile, and she makes a huffing-laugh sound. “No, thank you.” She pushes it away lightly with her fingers, “I don’t know how to explain to my parents why my hair is white.” 

Right. Danny pulls the thermos away and puts it down beside him, straining his eyes to see if the rest of his hair has changed colors. Even just his first sip would take half an hour to fade back to its normal black, and he was a halfa. He had no idea how long it’d take to fade on Sam, who was human. 

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and Danny snaps his head towards the source. There’s a figure, small, a boy, trying to hide behind one of the curtains at the door. His form just barely peeking out from the angle Danny was sitting at. He wouldn’t have seen him if the boy hadn’t moved. 

His fingers curl tightly into the railing, and he breathes in sharp. Sam’s smile crumbles away and she turns to see what he’s looking at. “I should go.” He says, and reaches for his thermos. “There’s someone spying on us. Don’t say anything, just look at me.” 

Sam’s expression warps, twists. Her eyes widen, her jaw starts to drop before fixing itself into place, and her shoulders curl up and tense. She forces it all to smooth over, and she leans casually against the railing. There’s a tick in her jaw. “I see.” Her voice comes through teeth. “Do you think they saw you?”

“I am not sure.” Danny says. He keeps an eye on the figure as he twists himself over and grabs the Nasty Burger bag and the container. He tries not to look like he’s rushing. He is. How long has that boy been there? How much did he see? Did he hear anything? 

“Father, fortunately, has privacy films on the glass. Nobody should have seen me unless they’re specifically trying to peep through the door.” He says. The boy seems to realize that Danny was starting to leave. And, his heart beginning to sink, instead of leaving, moves to grab the door handle instead.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Danny’s breath catches in his throat, he’s hoping that isn’t who he think it is. But how else would he have not noticed an eavesdropper on their conversation unless it was someone who was capable of bypassing those skills? He told himself that he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that his siblings’ had poor stealth. He got distracted. 

Five years, five years. He refuses to let that go down the drain. He zips up the container and throws his legs over the other side of the railing, his back facing the door. He hears the doorknob click, and without a word to Sam, slips off down the side and down to the ground below.

Just in time. The once muffled music now sounds blaring as the door presumably is thrown open and the pull of invisibility washes over him like a second skin. He doesn't stay to see who it is.

[kettlefire]

Bullets & Babies. (Dpxdc)

This was not what Dan had planned for the rest of his life. When the old stopwatch released him from his prison, Dan had a specific idea in mind.

He wanted to go out into the world. Visit every place he never had the chance to before he had decimated it in his own timeline.

Honestly, what's so wrong with just wanting to sip mai tais on a beach?

And Clockwork, for the vagueness he could muster, barely told Dan anything about what was happening. Being told he needed to take Danny and Ellie somewhere safe and protect them until the time was right wasn't exactly much information.

That also didn't explain why two babies were shoved into his arms. It didn't take a genius to figure out who was who.

The little dipsticks still make it easy to tell, even in their less than helpful age. Dan was going to argue. He really was. Barely holding the infant Danny and Ellie by their legs. Almost like a gross piece of meat.

Except, before Dan would utter a single complaint, he wasn't in the Clocktower anymore. Instead, he found himself in a fully furnished two bedroom apartment.

An annoying green sticky note lay on the coffee table. A note that Dan had immediately burned up in his hand. It only added fuel to the boiling anger Dan felt.

"Good Luck :) - CW"

Dan made a vow that the next time he saw the snakey little bastard, he was going to clock him straight on the nose. Screw if it got him tossed back into that thermos.

He wasn't a goddamn babysitter. He didn't have a clue how to handle babies, let alone take care of them for an undetermined time period.

Dan was still seething with anger when baby Ellie had started to cry. The wailing only grated on his nerves more. Of course, baby Danny had to chime in with his wails.

It took annoyingly long for Dan to figure out what was wrong. Ellie needed a diaper change, and Danny was just crying because she was crying.

Dan still muttered curses on Clockwork's name as he did the job. Listen, he might be a monster. He might have destroyed a whole world in a different timeline. He might not have had any qualms in killing children back then.

But that was forever ago, okay? And there was one thing killing a child quick and moving on. It was a completely different thing to let a child sit in their own filth and suffer.

That's how Dan found himself building a life in Gotham City. He tried to set Danny and Ellie up in a daycare, but the two squirts just had to still have their powers.

Living in a shady place like Crime Alley made it easy for Dan to locate a shady babysitter. Now, of course, he didn't hire some random off the street. He did his due diligence and made sure that the two would be in relatively safe hands.

And really, the tiny squirt of a drug runner was nothing against Dan. The kid just needed cash, and Dan had plenty of it. Even if he didn't obtain the cash in the best way possible.

It didn't take long before Dan made a name for himself on the streets. Nothing too crazy, mostly muscle for higher. He tried to keep a low profile, he really did.

But when you take a bullet for a client, word gets around. Apparently, dedicated bodyguards were far and few between. No one needed to know that Dan only took the bullet because he really wanted the second half of the money.

Or that a bullet was nothing for someone like him. He was healed up and back to work the next day. It really was easy money, and Dan would not trade it for a cashier job. He'd rather still be in the thermos.

It took a few months before Dan finally felt like he was killing this. He had a good system. The teen drug runner (now ex drug runner, Dan really out here turning around lives) would watch the kids whenever Dan needed to go out.

Dan had a good flow of jobs and cash coming his was. Danny and Ellie were both healthy and happy. Dan had even caught Danny's first assisted steps on camera, not that he was proud of the little twerp or anything.

Ellie was more of a mess. Her powers kept acting up whenever she got emotional. Not that it was that hard to just ghost baby proof the apartment.

Dan was absolutely killing it at this whole single father of two thing. His days started becoming more routine. He made sure to put effort into making sure the two kids hit the milestones they needed to.

The library and the internet became his best friend. His home bookshelf was just filled with parenting books. Dan might not care about the little parasites, but he wasn't going to half-ass the job either.

Because that's what this was. Just a job. And Dan always completes a job.

Things were going great until they weren't. It was supposed to be a simple job, Dan was just escorting a massive shipment of drugs. His job was to just make sure the supply landed safely, that's all.

Except, his babysitter had to call off for the first time ever. Leaving Dan with a job he needed to do, he already got his first payment. And two babies with no one to watch after.

It probably would have been smart for Dan to have a backup sitter. But this is his first time, okay, sue him for not planning ahead.

So yea, maybe it's not smart to bring along two babies on a rather dangerous escort job. Maybe it is a little weird seeing a massive tank of a man with two babies strapped on his back, and a semi-automatic in hand.

But Dan had made a name for himself. Despite the strange glances, no one said a word about it. Things went smooth from there.

No hiccups. No attempted jacking. Nothing. Which was a little strange for something like this. Keeping Dan on high alert. Despite that, the few guys that were along for the job all seemed relaxed.

The drop-off went just as smoothly. Unloading and reloading the boxes into a new truck. Dan was getting close to being done, he just needed to watch the truck leave unbothered for him to get his second payment.

The two twerps were surprisingly calm throughout it all. Barely so much as sneezing, still dead asleep in the holders. The calmness only put Dan even more on edge.

When the sound of squealing tires broke the calm night air, Dan had moved fast. Dislodging Danny and Ellie, tucking them away inside on empty shipping container.

It might not have been ideal, but Dan figured that was better than getting into a gunfight with the two still on him.

Even if Dan had managed not to get hit, and the truck drove off in his view seemingly safe. That's all that mattered. If this helmeted freak wanted to go after it, that's fine.

Dan did his job. He was getting paid regardless if the shipment made it to its secondary location. They only hired him for the first half. It's on those idiots if they lose it.

He was certain that Red Hood would take off after the truck once Dan stopped giving cover fire. He was just muscle for hire, there was no reason for Red Hood to stick around.

So when Dan made his way back to the shipping container. He was determined to pick up his kids and head back home for a much needed shower. Maybe take a week off work and just relax.

He was not prepared to find that annoying helmeted freak standing over a sleeping Danny. Or, even worse, holding a giggling Ellie. The girl's hands running over the smooth surface of the man's helmet.

Dan didn't even need to think about it. He reacted instinctively, gun raised and aimed directly at Red Hood's chest.

"Put the twerp down. Now."

Maybe Dan's tone comes out a little more protective and angry than he intended. Again, it's not like he really cared for the useless babies. His reaction was solely because it's his job to take care of the two.

That anger and need to protect had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he had been moonlighting as their father. He was not feeling fatherly feelings, he was not.

Red Hood had moved just as quickly as Dan had. Even before the words left Dan, he was staring down the barrel of a gun. Unlike Hood, Dan didn't have protection against getting his brains blown away.

Dan totally did not notice the way Hood had shifted his position. Ellie was out of any direct line of a gun, shielded slightly behind Red Hood's own bulk. The still sleeping Danny now behind Hood's legs.

Dan absolutely did not notice it. He had no thoughts or feelings about seeing the vigilante instinctively protect the two babies. His babies.

The two men stood there for a moment, guns aimed and tension in the air. A brief stalemate that felt longer than it was. Dan had no intentions of lowering his weapon until those two twerps were by his side again. And it was clear Red Hood had a similar thought.

That was until Ellie decided now was the time to start wailing like a banshee. Her tiny fists knocking against Hood's helmet. And she didn't stop there. No, that would be too simple.

Ellie chooses then to suddenly float out of Hood's grasp, heading straight for Dan. Because that's what Dan needed right now. Not just Red Hood knowing about the two kids. But now also knowing that at least one of them was a possible meta.

Dan was going to kill Clockwork.

[kirby-the-gorb]

[volvolts]

The Hexsquad taking Belos to therapy. They don't think this is actually going to break through to him, but hey can't hurt to try. 5 seconds after he enters the therapist's office however: Therapist: AAAAAAAHHH! STOP IT! NO! WHAT IS WRONG IN YOUR BRAIN! runs away screaming Belos: Hey pal, if you didn't wanna know about my childhood, you shouldn't have asked!

the thing with therapy is that you need to be open to it in order for it to work. while i think belos lost some of his puritan values throughout the centuries (like he didn't bring a bible with him to remind himself of the lord so he probably forgot a lot of it also you just get used to things over time tho this Self Aware King(tm) probably never noticed) i feel the need to be "fixed" in his mind is still deeply ingrained in his mind to be something he should never need, let alone be given to him by children

bonus: