#and maybe a justice league meeting just for fun

[britcision]

Okay so… today is a little bit of a long one, so we’ll see if we’re back at Tumblr breaking length or juuuust on the right side

But! Finally, much anticipated, we have the man himself: John Constantine! Here to share secrets and save the day! (Not)

And! This chapter got us right up to the edge, next chapter is gonna push me over to one MILLION words on AO3 y’all!! I’ve been flirting with it the past couple years but finally we’re here!

So. Might push the next one out faster. Might slow the next one down, since we’re in heavy waters again. And, since we are in the heavy waters, Imma tag on some warnings:

1) we gonna be speculating a little more on Jason’s death in this one, from a couple of viewpoints. We’re also discussing Cass’s in particular, and its repercussions.

No gore or details, just some death themes, mostly from Jason’s perspective after he and Danny leave the manor (Jason’s second POV segment)

2) Bruce is gonna make some very bad decisions about stimulants and concussions, mostly off screen but it is mentioned at the end of our first Bruce POV segment

And now the links!

First and link to AO3:

Previous:

———————

Never Make A Promise You Can’t Keep

Constantine hadn’t been looking forward to discussing Amity Park with the Justice League. Not the first time he’d been sent, and not for a single second after.

But hours turned into days, days to weeks, weeks to years. He’d almost thought he’d gotten away with it and that they wouldn’t ask.

Which was probably what had gotten the big Bat’s fuckin’ attention, wasn’t it. Couldn’t possibly let the universe have something nice for Johnny Constantine.

Luckily it was damn hard to lose something in the House of Mystery unless the House wanted it lost. Today she was feeling merciful and gave him the book on the second try.

It’d have been nice if he needed to refresh his memory of the case. If the knowledge of Amity Park hadn’t been sitting like a weight on his awareness since before he’d been.

Honestly he could probably point to it from anywhere on Earth. Most magic users could, if they had the faintest alignment with death.

Amity Park was goddamn wrong, even if it looked like things had turned out alright for now. Still, there were types of wrong you didn’t poke at.

Going prodding around would only make things worse.

And now he had to go explain that to Captain Prod himself, and try and persuade the fuckin’ Batman that no news was good news.

At least the Superboys had listened when he told them to clear off until he could visit in person. They’d pinky sworn they were back in Metropolis, and he’d heard enough traffic to believe them.

They could just as easily fly straight back to Alaska, but they weren’t stupid. They knew how to listen.

(Possibly from trauma related to the times Young Justice hadn’t listened to him, but he’d take what he could get.)

Now he just had to persuade the Bat that he knew what he was talking about.

Constantine hated debriefings with Batman. The guy had no grasp of magic, which was perfectly fair for most folks.

He preferred that. It kept them out of his kind of trouble, meant he didn’t have to worry about them until it got bad enough they’d accept whatever snapped sentence he managed.

Batman though. Batman treated magicians like it was their fault that the world didn’t work the way he personally preferred. Like they had any say in the how and why of magic.

Asshole.

And now he wanted to scold John like a naughty child about something he had no way to understand. Well, fuck that.

For better or worse, the Justice League made Amity Park his problem. Years late or not, this was his show, and he wasn’t going to take shit from anyone.

Thumbing quickly through the book, he kinda hated how easily it fell open to the relevant page. Like he’d already spent way too long looking.

Even he didn’t fuck with the Infinite Realms. Not if he could help it.

Stuffing in his notes from the city itself he closed the book, left the House, and hurried to one of the closer zeta tubes. Didn’t matter which city he was spat out in, he could find one.

His number didn’t coax even a flicker of the usual dry amusement as he stepped out into the bat cave, scowling up at the massive screen.

League records. Great. He strode across the floor, hoping they could sort this crap out fast.

“What the fuck’s got you lookin’ into Amity Park?” He asked as the Bat turned to face him, book tucked under his arm.

None of his usual prevaricating or fucking around. No chance for the fucker to try his usual “control the conversation” shit.

If it had any effect whatsoever, it didn’t show. Damn white outs. Batman just stared at him for a moment, then turned back to the computer, pulling up another page.

Constantine didn’t look. He didn’t want to know.

“Why did you mark Amity Park as a prank?” The big Bat asked in his stupid, gravelly tones.

Constantine rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t mark it as a fuckin’ prank, I marked it as a no fly zone for your little lot, so again: what the fuck came out of Amity Park?”

Batman stilled for a moment, doing that annoying “human computer” bit again. John preferred each and every one of the actual cyborgs, even the ones that tried to kill him.

Then he turned back, swivelling the chair around to fully face John like a movie super villain. Asshole.

“Over two thousand legitimate cries for help came out of Amity Park, and were ignored. If they were marked for the Justice League Dark, you should have responded, not deleted them.”

And that sounded way too much like an accusation. And completely fuckin’ irrelevant.

Something deeply unpleasant was tugging at the edge of Constantine’s awareness, just below the irritation he scraped over the sense of impending doom he’d been ignoring for the last hour.

He pushed it down, scowling at Bruce as he crossed the last of the distance and slammed the book down on the table next to the keyboard, gesturing up at the screens.

Still not bothering to look. He didn’t want to fuckin’ know.

“Years ago, Batty. This could be time fuckin’ sensitive, so quit pissing me about an’ tell me what. Exactly. Got you looking into Amity Park.”

There was a moment of hesitance, and he just fucking hated that. Nothing that made Batman hesitate could possibly be… good.

The feeling at the back of his mind suddenly clicked. His eyes widened and he groaned, wishing he had something stronger than a cigarette. Maybe a bullet.

“Great. Just fuckin’ great. They’re here.”

Groping around behind him, he grabbed another swivel chair and folded down into it, elbows bracing on the desk and burying his face in his hands.

Well, this was the nightmare situation.

From the fucking death taint seeping into his fuckin’ skin, something extremely fuckin’ big had oozed its way out of the Realms, and settled itself in Gotham.

Batman’s attention had snapped to, the man suddenly alert and watchful as Constantine slumped.

One hand dove into a pocket for the carton of cigarettes, Bat Cave rules be damned. Not much fuckin’ point, but he wasn’t doing this sober, and his flask was too small.

For once the Bat didn’t comment as he flicked the lighter open, lit up, and took a long drag. Just focused that laser stare on Constantine’s face.

At least he’d grasped the gravity of the matter.

“What is here?” The Bat finally asked when it became clear Constantine wasn’t elaborating, sounding annoyed.

Constantine took another drag of his smoke. Some days nicotine just wasn’t enough.

“Start from the beginning, Bats. Tell me everything that led up to you lookin’ into Amity Park, and everything you found since,” he demanded, hoping there was still a point to asking.

“If this is time sensitive, Constantine, you need to tell me what is happening,” Batman growled, tensed like he wanted to leap out of his chair and loom like one of his fuckin’ gargoyles.

The bat sounded cranky. Fuck him.

Constantine fixed him with a level stare.

“Then you’d better get fuckin’ talking, hadn’t you? I need to know how fuckin’ bad it is before I know first steps.”

Batman hesitated a moment longer, then turned back to his computer.

“I can summon the League-”

“No time,” Constantine cut him off acerbically, shaking his head, “and might make shit worse. Just fuckin’… report. Gimme yer damn report.”

For all that the Bat loved paperwork, loved to bury them all in bureaucracy, he dithered another moment before nodding, pulling up…

Well lookie there, he already had a literal report typed up. Great.

Taking another long drag of his cigarette Constantine leaned back in the chair and scanned the document.

Hopefully this wouldn’t take long. Or the extra details he could already tell he’d need, that had prompted the dull and clinical report.

**

Jason had tensed as Danny did. First because of the sudden alertness he could feel in Danny’s aura, even reduced back down to conversational levels.

(And that had been fun. The more times he felt Danny’s aura wrapped around him, the longer he spent with his chest tight and Danny’s presence right down to his lungs…

He felt cold when it went away. Almost lonely, surrounded by people. Fucking ancients help him, he was getting used to it.)

Was that what it’d feel like if he felt that Danny was in danger? A rush of adrenaline?

It was a little weird being so in tune with someone, but not in a bad way. Danny didn’t seem upset, just suddenly on guard in a way that the whole table noticed.

On guard, and… amused. And then he spoke and Jason tensed again.

“So that’s John Constantine… huh.”

Danny could sense John Constantine. That was… Really not the strangest thing, but it didn’t mean Jason had to like it.

If Danny could sense Constantine, could Constantine sense Danny? Jason wasn’t sure if he should ask in public.

Tim had way less reservations.

“Wait, what do you mean? What just happened?” He asked, breaking away from Tucker for a moment. But at least Tucker also looked confused.

Danny shook his head, chuckling softly and finishing up his food.

“Oh, sorry. It’s Sad Trenchcoat Guy,” he added for Sam and Tucker’s benefit, both of whom relaxed like that actually meant something.

Sam was back in her original clothes now, although Jason hadn’t given her the thermos back yet. Once her parents arrived, maybe.

Jason stifled a snicker, along with most of the Gothamites. It was a pretty accurate description of Constantine.

“Still in the dark over here,” Duke put in, a slight frown on his face.

Danny shrugged again and grinned at him.

“It’s kinda a ghost thing. I can sense other ghosts, or certain kinds of magic users. Constantine came to Amity Park not that long after I died,” he explained casually.

Tim and Dick shared meaningful looks behind Tucker’s head, and Jason stifled another chuckle. They thought they were so discrete.

Dick leaned in again, arms folded on the table as he gave Danny his best innocent interest.

“Oh? That’s kinda weird, do you know why?” He asked casually. Not questioning where Danny thought John was now.

He wanted to try and lead them away from the topic, probably. Too bad for him, if he’d asked he might have gotten some idea of how far Danny’s power stretched.

He’d explained to Jason about his aura covering most of the city, although he hadn’t claimed it as his haunt. But if Dickie didn’t want to know, Jason wouldn’t tell.

Sam fielded the question, rolling her eyes and folding her arms.

“We thought he might have come to help, since that was around when the ghost attacks started. He didn’t though,” she added bitterly, and Danny kicked her under the table.

“We don’t actually know why he came,” he explained, giving Dick a half smile, “he never talked to us. He did talk to some of the other ghosts though.”

“Wait, you can just do that?” Steph asked, her brows furrowed. Whether she was playing civilian or actually wasn’t sure, Jason wouldn’t put a bet on.

The amount most of the bat clan knew about magic and ghosts used to be that Jason was a zombie.

Which, as it turned out, was wrong.

Danny gave her a blank look, then shrugged again.

“I mean, yeah? You literally can just go ask half the time, but he was doing some fancy stuff. Binding circles and demanding truth, that kinda shit,” he added, making a face.

“He wasn’t popular among the living either,” Tucker agreed with a snicker. “Lotta weird questions for people, and no answers. We figured he was one of those occult nuts.”

“That’d explain the binding circles and truth thing,” Duke agreed with a solemn nod, folding his own arms. Honestly, watching them all play civilian was kinda adorable.

Tucker hesitated a moment, then shrugged and nodded, conceding the point.

“I mean, you’ve got me there. But he never tried to get anywhere near the fights, and then one day he just vanished. We got a ton more weird tourists for a while, but he was the weirdest,” he finished with relish.

Sam snorted again, clearly still annoyed about the whole mess. Maybe she’d been the one who actually wanted help.

Danny hadn’t mentioned how he felt about it yet, and Jason hadn’t asked, but they’d all been abandoned. Fucking Jason wasn’t happy about it.

“He was the only one who actually knew what he was doing,” she huffed, scowling at the table. Then she sighed, shaking her head. “So if he’s in Gotham, I’m gonna call it a bad sign.”

Privately, Jason was tempted to agree with her. John Constantine was a danger magnet, and Jason was half tempted to go and have a word himself.

Word in the Bat Chat was that Constantine was why Danny had never gotten any backup before. Danny himself might not be looking to start a fight over it, but Jason had Opinions on teen heroes.

And the adults who should have been protecting them.

Not with Bruce around though. He’d have to wait and see if Constantine stayed in town.

It’d give him time to ask Danny about the suddenly constant undercurrent of suppressed laughter he could feel.

**

In the bat cave, Constantine squinted at the picture Batman had pulled up from the gala. Not exactly the best picture on earth, but it was clear enough to tell. Shaking his head, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Alright, could be worse,” he decided, tossing aside his second cigarette butt. The report had been complete, he’d give old Bats that, and he’d even been allowed to smoke through it.

But a black gloved hand covered his when he reached for the pack again.

Fucker.

Constantine let it slide for now, raising both hands in surrender and then pointing at the screen.

“Looks like you’ve got the halfa. Not bad news, as it goes. He’s at least still half human, which is probably why your precious city’s still intact.”

He didn’t even want to think about what might have happened if another ghost tried to set up a haunt in Gotham. The old girl’s Curse would have something to say about it.

Batman didn’t look noticeably reassured though.

“Enough stalling, Constantine. What is this all about? What happened in Amity Park?” He demanded roughly, and Constantine was grudgingly impressed.

Seemed like that ol’ bat hyper focus was going to win out over even a threat to his own city. Or he hadn’t been fully listening.

No bet.

Constantine sighed again, gesturing to the screen.

“You got a ley line map somewhere on this thing?” He asked, mostly just to annoy the bat a little further. Not like he wasn’t gonna give him the answers.

Batman hesitated for a moment, then set to typing. Probably… yup, going into the JL Dark files. Zatanna kept a helpful reference folder for the mundanes.

Constantine didn’t think they needed any more help than they asked for, but she’d been right this time and he owed her a beer for it. A second later the map was on screen.

Constantine nodded again, pointing to the general area of Illinois.

“Pull up Amity Park on that map,” he instructed, wheeling his chair back out of reach to pull out a third cigarette.

Both got him an annoyed frown from old Batsy.

“What is this supposed to mean?” He asked in the old gravelly growl, the map already obediently zooming in.

Constantine lit his smoke and waved at the screen again.

“Y’know what ley lines are?” He asked back, watching the map scroll around.

Not one with a search function then. Batsy’d have to find it by hand. Sucks to be him.

It kept him from focusing much attention on John anyway, so that was a win.

“I know the places they meet are magical nexus points,” Batman admitted reluctantly, like he didn’t hoard information about everything on earth.

Constantine nodded, not willing to entertain his issues.

“Amity Park’s on a dozen of them,” he said bluntly, and watched the guy stiffen.

Zoom out a bit, find the flowering spot where damn near every ley line through that part of the world crossed. Zoomed back in to find Amity Park.

The bat scowled at the screen for a while, then at John, who’d put his feet up on the desk. Tough titties, they weren’t coming down.

“But what does that mean, Constantine,” he growled, and John sighed.

Cupped his hands in front of him, paused, and shook his head.

“Alright, I’m crap at metaphors so bear with me. You know about multiple dimensions?” He asked and the bat nodded impatiently.

Like he shouldn’t have asked. Like this fucker hadn’t just asked for the fuckin’ kindergartener explanation.

Whatever.

“Yes. There’s a different dimension on the other side of the ley lines?” He asked, and Constantine did his very best not to roll his eyes.

Well. Maybe not his very best.

But he didn’t do it as hard as he could have.

“No. There’s way too many other dimensions. But what the ley lines do is weaken a place in this dimension, especially where they cross. Amity Park is a fuckin’ sieve,” he said with finality, waiting for the Bat to catch up.

And sure enough, those frown lines etched themselves deep again. This guy was gonna make John Fuckin’ Constantine look like a fresh faced baby.

“So other dimensions can cross through?” He asked again, and John sighed.

Reductive fucker.

“No. Yes. Sort of. Because some stupid motherfucker in Amity Park didn’t just use the natural portals or holes; they punched a fuckin’ permanent portal to the Infinite Realms.”

Honestly using the natural portals would have been bad enough in his opinion. Reality was basically swiss cheese in Amity, and getting anything’s attention would be beyond dangerous.

He hadn’t even liked visiting.

Batman looked more stoic, which John assumed meant he wasn’t keeping up. Scrubbing his free hand through his hair, he blew out a stream of smoke and frowned.

“So you get natural portals between our dimension other dimensions. It’s how all that “evil other self” crap keeps happening. With me?” He asked dryly.

The bat nodded without speaking, which was as close to an admission of confusion as Constantine figured he’d get.

Whatever.

“You get more portals on ley lines, and more again where two cross. About a dozen cross in Amity Park, so they get lots of natural portals. Yes?”

The bat nodded again, face pinching up like he resented John’s tone. Double tough, he’d had every chance to read Zatanna’s primers.

If John was doing Ley Lines For Dummies the dummies could keep their attitudes to themselves.

“Natural portals, they open and close on their own. Rest of the world, they don’t usually stay open for long. They need power to stop the world from… mending the hole.”

Which was the worst fucking explanation of all time and not remotely what happened, but who fucking cared. Batty wanted to weigh in again.

“So natural portals also stay open longer around Amity Park,” he growled, trying to get to the next step of the explanation.

Which, actually, John hadn’t really thought about. Pursing his lips, he let his gaze drift to the smoke swirling around the ceiling.

There were actual fucking bats up there.

Of course there were.

Dramatic bastard.

Forcing his attention back to the bastard in question, he waved a hand to dispel the last stream of smoke.

“Doesn’t matter what natural portals do. Some asshole went to the spot in reality most likely to break on its own, and decided to punch a hole. A permanent hole, into the Infinite Realms.”

Batman took a deep, even breath in, like he was trying to hold onto his temper. Yeah, well, he’d walked face first into Amity Fuckin’ Park, now he had to join John in Hell.

“What are the Infinite Realms?” He asked, sounding as patient as ever. Brownie points for trying, John wasn’t going to.

“It’s where the unclaimed dead go. Souls not ready to move on, souls that were never born, and, much worse, it occasionally pops out personifications of forces or belief,” he ground out the last words, teeth gritting in spite of himself.

The bat stilled for a long moment, drawing in another slow, steady breath. Probably counting to ten.

“What.” It wasn’t even a question really, a flat statement of dissatisfaction.

It meant not talking about Amity Park for a bit longer though, so Constantine leaned in.

“God shit. Concepts like Time, Hope, Growth. Anything that someone, somewhere, truly believes in. Well, not just anyone,” he corrected, and Did Not enjoy the way Batman’s jaw clenched.

Not even a bit.

“It takes a lot of juice, makin’ a whole entity. But the Infinite Realms are the core of all the dimensions, the intersection they all go through, and that’s where the belief settles. The more people who believe, the more clearly they believe it, and eventually you get enough to form a personality.”

He gave the bat a little time to digest that one. To really let it sink in what a fuckin’ problem the Infinite Realms could be.

And then a thought occurred to him.

“Your city’s got one, y’know?” He mentioned almost as an afterthought, and Batty Did Not like that.

His head snapped up, white outs narrowing to slits as he glared.

“What?!” He demanded sharply and Constantine waved a hand.

“Gotham. Dunno if it’s all the shit you lot go through, or the stubborn arseholes that live ‘ere, but Gotham has a city spirit.”

No need to mention the curse yet. Batsy was already having a day.

That’d be for the next time he ticked Constantine off.

This time, just that revelation seemed to have been enough to stun the bat. Constantine left him to sit in this one until he was ready though.

Processing.

He wasn’t completely heartless.

He was a little grudgingly impressed by how quickly Batman put it aside and refocused on the matter in hand.

“And that’s why the Infinite Realms are dangerous? These powerful personifications?” He asked cautiously, like he expected John to say no again.

Smart man.

Constantine gave him a dry smile.

“If fuckin’ only. There’s spirits in there, Ancients, and every one of ‘em could give Darkseid a run for his money. But even the ghosts of the Realms are a fuckin’ dangerous lot. You know Deadman?”

The bat nodded to indicate that he did, brows furrowing.

“He can’t be seen or heard without magical assistance,” he agreed, that same caution present.

At least he was a quick learner. Constantine nodded in satisfaction.

“He’s a ghost made by magic. Ghosts from the Realms don’t have anything like the same limitations. They can’t be seen or touched unless they want to, and they can damn well affect the world around ‘em.”

John shuddered, remembering some of the attacks he’d seen. Nothing stronger than a baseline demon, but the damage you could do when no one else could touch you, or stop you…

And he shook his head, locking the damage back down.

“And worse, they’re fuckin’ unpredictable. Demons, they’re easy. They all want the same shit. Realms ghosts? If one of ‘em decides fuckin’ cheese is their obsession, that’s it. They’ll drown a city in cheddar.”

The bat was staring at him again, back on that stoic “I have no idea what’s happening so I’ll look big and scary til it all makes sense again” bullshit.

Constantine sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look. I ain’t even told ya the worst of it yet. How about we jus’ take it as read that the Infinite Realms are bad fuckin’ news, okay?” He asked as patiently as he could.

There was that little twitch, that little scrunch again. Not a happy Batty.

And he wasn’t gonna get happier while he made John teach him Magic For Dummies either.

But he nodded, folding his arms reluctantly.

“Then why did you leave the people of Amity Park to face them alone?” He asked bluntly, and… well, that was the question, wasn’t it?

Constantine stared blankly at him.

“You want Superman gettin’ body hopped by a ghostie craving all the cheddar in the mid west?” He asked in turn, and there it was.

The little indrawn breath. The fuckin’ scale of the problem.

Fuckin’ FINALLY.

“Look, Amity Park has a hero. Had. The halfa.” He waved vaguely at the screen again, the picture of Bruce’s mystery kid now buried several windows deep.

Didn’t matter.

“He’s got all the powers the ghosts do, an’ can’t be possessed. Last thing the poor little fuck needed was to face an overshadowed super.”

And yeah, the Bat still didn’t look happy (more to the better, that’d be a terrifying sight all on its own), but at least he had a reason for resting bitch face now.

Constantine sighed, waving a hand vaguely and tossing the latest butt down.

“Look, I can’t stop ya from pokin’ around. Not for lack of trying, mind. The Realms are a dangerous place, an’ Amity Park’s practically on the other side already. I dunno why the kid left, I don’t care. You though, Bats? You’re gonna do me a proper fuckin’ oath.”

He levelled his best serious stare, useless as usual against the damn white outs. It’d kill the asswipe to look human.

Batman shifted again, clearly feeling the weight of the last word.

Good.

“An oath?” He asked warily, and Constantine nodded, holding out his hand.

“On yer name, on yer blood, on yer tie to this fuckin’ city. No matter what you do lookin’ at the Infinite fuckin’ Realms. You do not. Fuck. With the Ghost King.”

The bat stared down at his hand like there was something wrong with it. John assumed anyway. The pissy face could be for anything.

And then he asked the question, because of fuckin’ course he did.

“What is the Ghost King?”

John sighed heavily, leaving his hand where it was, waiting for the oath.

“The prettiest fuckin’ princess of them all, what d’you fuckin’ think. The Ghost King rules the Infinite Realms, and by all accounts the last one was a bloody tyrant. Good news is he probably never noticed Amity Park yet, cuz America isn’t a smoking crater.”

Honestly, maybe he’d add a chapter to Zatanna’s document. Stamp it all across any reference anyone tried to make to Amity Fuckin’ Park so he never had to do this again.

He caught the Bat’s gaze again, weighting his words with enough power that every sound in the cave died around them.

“It took all the damn Ancients to seal Pariah Dark once. And someone’s beaten him, and taken his throne. I don’t fuckin’ know who, I don’t ask, but if they’re tough enough to beat Pariah, they are beyond what the League can do. Your only chance is to stay the fuck outta their way. Swear it.”

Batman stared at him for a long moment, and then down at the outstretched hand. Reached out and clasped it in his own.

“I swear. I will not knowingly upset the Ghost King.”

John gripped tighter, realized almost immediately that it was pointless against the reinforced gloves, and did it anyway.

“None of that, Batty. No bullshit. You do not fuck with the Ghost King. You hear the faintest goddamn whisper of their name, you turn tail and fuckin’ run. We will not survive their attention.”

He stared the stupid white outs down, as long as it took, and didn’t let go. Batman stared at him for a while, clearly absorbing the gravity of his words.

Constantine couldn’t remember asking a member of the League to swear to anything before. Usually he was the buyer in deals, not the keeper.

Woulda been nice to remain so, but nothing stopped the fuckin’ bat from sticking his nose in, so here was John Constantine, last condom of the universe.

Last desperate scrap of protection against a fuckin’ dick.

Finally the bat nodded, grip tightening in return.

“I swear. I will not engage with the Ghost King.”

**

Harley had gotten back just before Sam had to leave, with perfect timing to see her to the door actually.

The look on Pamela Manson’s face when Harley kissed Sam on each cheek and waved her off would keep Danny warm on cold nights.

A quick check of flight times back to Massachusetts (like Danny wasn’t going to take shortcuts) confirmed that Tucker could have one more night in Gotham.

Tim immediately offered to put him up in Wayne Manor again, clearly not allowing the chance to slip by him two nights in a row. Tucker was only too happy to accept, although Steph and Cass begged off.

Probably for their hero patrols. Danny wasn’t exactly sure how many vigilantes Gotham had, there seemed to be a new one every few months, but having eight of them at the gala last night probably meant all the rest had been out.

Obviously Red Robin wouldn’t be out tonight either, but there were enough of them to cover for each other.

Danny was kinda jealous of that. It had been just him for so long, and then him and Valerie, which hadn’t been better until she stopped hunting him too. He’d have loved a night off.

Still, their numbers meant that Jason probably wouldn’t need to go back to the night life unless he actually wanted to. He was definitely still built for it, but Danny couldn’t imagine anyone wanted to ask him to.

Most of the bats had clearly had their own run ins with death, but Jason’s had stuck in ways even Danny knew he didn’t quite get.

Jason had been so tense at just the thought of Danny being a teen hero. It wasn’t like that’d get easier when it was his little siblings swinging from rooftops.

Danny’s hero career might have started with his own death, but he personally was of the opinion that that’d be a perfectly fine reason to end one too.

So Dick, Steph, and Cass headed out not too long after Sam, and Danny wasn’t exactly surprised when Jason’s background angst jumped.

He’d stayed on edge since Danny and Bruce got back, even when Harley told them Bruce was off dealing with his own shit and probably wouldn’t be out of his room all night.

Danny’d bet fifty bucks that the arrival of Constantine actually meant Bruce was in the bat cave being suspicious, but he wasn’t gonna say it.

Tim had shown them to a games room, for all that he’d apparently also moved out. He still knew where everything was, and soon had them hooked up for Mariokart on the biggest TV Danny ever saw.

They’d played a couple rounds (Harley was expectedly devastating with red shells) and while Danny and Tucker were having fun, he could feel Jason stressing.

Like, even if he stuck his fingers in his ears and ignored the aura. The guy was tensed so tight his shoulders strained at his shirt, which woulda been visually interesting if Danny didn’t know why.

Cass was one near death experience from slipping back across the boundary for good.

Cass was off punching criminals with rocket launchers in body armour and spandex.

Duke was probably actually in bed, Signal did morning patrols, and Damian was obstinately refusing to play video games with them perched on the back of the couch, but still.

Dick and Steph had both given one life to the cause too, and for all Dick was a cop and in danger on his day job too, cops pretty famously showed up after the vigilantes ended the party.

More than half Jason’s immediate family were back in the line of fire and Danny could practically taste Jason’s Obsession eating away at him.

As much as he tried to pretend he was playing along and gave a shit about winning, the controller creaked in his hands more than a couple casual races should allow.

So, yeah, if he couldn’t get Jason to crack a smile with this one, he was gonna gently bow them both the fuck outta the manor.

He kept half an eye on Tim, who had a glass of water.

“Hey, you guys heard the theory about Batman?” He asked casually, just as another round of Mariokart started.

Jason kicked him in the ankle but otherwise ignored him, which was fair. He’d been exposed to Danny’s bullshit.

Tim stiffened and then forced himself to relax, Tucker rolled his eyes and jostled Danny from his other side, but it was Harley who answered.

Innocent as the day she was born.

“Oh? What? Is it that he’s a lizardman? Cuz I got right up on that cowl and he’s definitely a mammal,” she said casually, not even looking away from the screen.

Danny was pretty sure he heard Damian almost slip off his perch.

He was a little bit in love with Harley Quinn. He should get her number for Jazz, maybe his big sister would learn to have a little fun.

Grinning broad and only half fake, he drifted a turn to pick up a double item from under Tucker’s nose.

“Shit, yeah, you might actually know! It’s his secret identity!” He exclaimed cheerfully, and felt the tension in the room ratchet up.

From Tim and Damian. Jason… still wasn’t paying attention.

Not like he was deeply immersed in the game, for all he kept up he was nowhere near the speed demon that handed Danny his ass the night before.

Hmm. Better get his attention.

Tim and Damian had already settled again, probably remembering he was already In The Know even if Tucker wasn’t, and Harley had given him a very knowing look right before she fire flowered him.

Almost ready.

He waited until Tim had taken a hasty sip of water on a calm stretch, nudged Jason in the shins, and made sure he was louder than the music.

“So d’you think it’s possible that Markiplier’s Batman?”

Tim sprayed water across the couch, Harley fucking cackled, and Jason snapped his head around to stare at Danny so hard he cricked his neck.

Danny red shelled him for good measure, just so he wasn’t missing anything on screen.

Tucker rolled his eyes, also deeply used to Danny’s bullshit and much more interested in gaming revenge.

“Fuck off Danny, Markiplier isn’t even a Gothamite,” he said disdainfully and Danny shook his head, grinning.

“That’s why it’s the perfect cover. I mean, Batman wants to keep his secret identity a secret, right? So having an identity that very publicly “isn’t in Gotham” makes perfect sense!” He argued cheerfully.

Jason half snorted a laugh beside him, picking back up and speeding his way back into the race. Across the couch Tim wiped his face, still catching his breath.

“I fucking hate that that made sense,” he moaned, and Harley cackled again.

“Nah, he’s got a point! How does anyone know where a youtuber lives? We only see one room!” She agreed cheerfully, clearly leaning in.

It was so nice to have a true showwoman in the crowd.

Damian looked angry in the confused way now, and Danny would hazard a guess he didn’t watch youtube at all, let alone a lets player. That might have made it funnier, had there been no other concerns.

Beside him Jason huffed out another dry chuckle, shaking his head with the barest hint of a smile.

“I can’t believe Batman has an OnlyFans,” he said in a solemn, almost sorrowful voice… and dropped a blue shell.

Tim groaned like his soul had gone with it, clinging desperately to his first place lead. Harley cackled and added her own green shells to the mix, dropping all three as they came to the home stretch.

“Don’t forget the calendar of tasteful nudes! All for charity, just what Batsy would like,” she crowed with evident glee, and Tucker snorted a laugh.

“It’d explain all the surgeries,” he agreed reluctantly, and Danny had a sudden, utterly wicked idea.

“Hey… now that Batman’s on OnlyFans, d’you think he’ll convince the whole Justice League to do a pinup calendar, or just the other bats?” He asked innocently, watching said bats from the corner of his eye.

Well, Robins technically, but since only Tim was of age birds didn’t seem appropriate.

Tim himself threw his controller to the ground, abandoning the game and throwing himself over the back of the couch and almost hitting Damian on the way.

Damian definitely hissed at him like a startled cat.

No way Danny imagined that this close to the finish.

Tucker hesitated for a long moment, clearly considering his odds of winning, but when Harley blasted past Tim’s spun out corpse and across the finish line he abandoned his controller too to check on Tim.

Harley was surprisingly good at the game when flopped sideways on her chosen couch, laughing too hard to breathe. Danny breezed into an easy third behind her and Jason, giving the other man an assessing look.

A little wary of reaching out with his aura, especially when Jason was on edge. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Didn’t want to be too invasive, if he was honest. Danny had… kinda always been the one who was new to aura stuff before. And he’d gotten used to it, in the Ghost Zone.

He’d never spent this much time with another halfa before. Especially not without a single trace of punching or stabbing.

Except in Mariokart, where the Geneva Convention held no sway.

Jason had clearly noticed him looking though, and read the concern even without Danny pushing. He gave Danny’s shoulder a gentle bump, a nudge of fine-stop worrying alongside.

Danny nudged back, his own disbelief tinged with understanding-empathy-worried too.

But, that was kinda the other thing… the thing he didn’t really want to bring up around the other bats just yet.

And while Jason had smiled, Danny didn’t think he’d mind them dipping out.

Faking a yawn, he stretched, cracked his back, and looked over to where Tim had rejoined the couch.

“Honestly, I’m beat. I gotta try and get back into a better sleep schedule before classes start,” he said, pulling a face at the self-reminder.

Their break was coming to its end, and then he’d be back into university. His class schedule was flexible, more afternoons than early mornings, but he’d… miss this.

Free time to just spend the whole day hanging out with friends and catching up. Meeting Jason’s family, Jason meeting his.

Danny didn’t actually know what Jason did, whether he was working or going back to school, but it was gonna come up soon.

They had a trip to Frostbite to plan, some ecto shots from Danny’s fridge, and at some point he still had to introduce Jason to Frighty… and probably ask the guy if he wanted to be called that still.

It’d be a little weird to start calling him Halloween or whatever, but frankly him obeying Danny’s orders and calling him “my liege” was way fucking weirder so it’d be fine.

And about four more days before half of Danny’s time would be eaten by lectures, study halls, and projects. Fuck, maybe Jason would give him a hand with those too.

So long as he wasn’t sick of Danny by then.

Another quick glance showed that Jason’s face had reset into that tense almost-scowl again, staring past the TV.

At the other end of the couch, Tim gave a disgruntled huff.

“I’m gonna make you pay for that next time,” he grumbled, shifting to Tucker with an adorable moment of sudden concern. “Do you need me to show you to a room too, or…”

Tucker shook his head with a snicker, giving Danny a side eye.

“Nah, unlike that weakling I got used to the vigilante sleep schedule back in high school. I’m good for a couple more hours at least,” he bragged.

Danny flipped him off, hauling himself to his feet and giving Jason a nudge.

“Yeah, well, this weakling fought a croc last night and needs his sleep. Mind giving me a ride back?” He asked when Jason looked up at him.

Gently offered a touch of easy out-reassurance-trust me.

The deep furrows in Jason’s brows twitched until he caught on and his expression cleared. He nodded quickly and pulled himself to his feet.

“Yeah, we can take my bike.” Then he hesitated and looked a little uncertain. “You never told me where you live.”

It took Danny a moment to realise that… no, he really hadn’t, because that just plain didn’t feel right. But no, he’d met Jason again in that coffee shop, then come to the gala with Sam.

Hadn’t gone home last night, just stopped at one of Jason’s apparently multiple places; at least he was doing better than Danny had thought from the first apartment.

He found himself chuckling at the thought, shaking his head.

“Oh yeah, we’ve only been to your place… I’m at the south dorm at Gotham U, I can give you directions as we get closer,” he offered and Jason nodded.

He felt… weird? Like he was surprised Danny had told him where he lived, and ashamed of being surprised.

Danny decided not to dig into it, offering Jason his arm and bowing like all those Shakespeare plays he knew Jason loved.

“Shall we?”

Jason’s moment of surprise was quickly swallowed by delight and he bowed back, then tucked his hand into Danny’s elbow. Almost definitely knew etiquette better than Danny did, so Danny wasn’t gonna doubt him.

“We shall. I’ll drop you off and head home,” he agreed, then paused and glanced back at Harley.

Whose giggling had completely ended and was now watching them like her favourite sitcom. Chin in hands and all.

“Did you wanna meet up here tomorrow, or…” Jason trailed off, obviously also a little put off by her intensity.

She perked up when addressed, giving him a cheery grin and a double thumbs up.

“Here or th’ station, I don’t mind! Hey, did ya wanna come too, Danny boy?” She asked sweetly, head cocked to the side and just waaaay too innocent.

Not that Danny could work out what she was up to.

“Uh… to do what?” He asked carefully, head cocking to match hers before he noticed and straightened up.

Her grin widened, so she noticed.

“Oh, Jason an’ I are gonna go check on my buddy Waylon, see if we can’t work out what he was doin’ at the gala. If youse threw down he might like ta see ya there?”

Which honestly left Danny at a loss, until Tim explained.

“Killer Croc. His actual name’s Waylon Jones, and he was Harley’s tenant in Coney Island before coming back to Gotham,” he said casually, and Danny stilled.

There was an intensity in the room that hadn’t been there before, a sudden wave that sent a chill down his spine. Something from Harley, suddenly predator sharp in a way he hadn’t felt since Skulker had been a serious threat.

For the life of him though, he couldn’t put his finger on what though, since she didn’t move. Just grinned like she had been all along.

“People called him Killer Croc cuz of his skin condition. He gave up tryin’ ta change their minds,” she said with a light shrug, completely belied by the intensity of her stare.

Danny couldn’t look away until she released him, something satisfied in the quirk of her lip. Like she could see the sudden well of memory in his chest.

He’d never actually given in to all the things his parents had called Phantom. They’d been ashamed of all of them when the truth came out, and he’d only had to put up with them for a few years.

He tried to imagine decades of it, being called a monster for things he couldn’t control. For nothing more than a weird scaly skin condition.

He couldn’t imagine going full bomb vest over it, but Danny was man enough to admit he might just be a little touchy because of Jason’s death.

Which Waylon might not even know about.

Suddenly he actually did want to know why they’d attacked the gala.

Until now it had just been inevitable, someone was going to so why not them, but… well. He’d felt it under the whole plan, every stupid step.

Jason had trusted Waylon, not Danny, to keep things from getting out of hand. To know that a tussle was part of the fun.

Danny hadn’t planned on asking, but. Yeah.

“I’d like that,” he agreed quickly, nodding, at about the same time as Tucker found his own voice.

“Wait, that’s a skin condition? He’s just like that?” The techie asked sharply, staring around at Tim and Damian to confirm.

And got a disdainful look from Damian back.

“Tt, what else would it be? Do you know many scaled people?” He asked archly.

Danny’s mind snapped directly to Dora and her asshole brother. Knew Tucker’s had gone to the same place a second later.

“More than you’d think,” he and Tucker said in unison, and they shared a grin. If there was one benefit to their fucked up ghost hunting years, it was shutting down smart ass remarks.

Damian only looked more annoyed at being corrected, and Tucker shrugged.

“I thought he mighta been a scientist and tried to fuse himself with a lizard or something, like in Spider-Man,” he elaborated, and Danny kinda hated how much their lives resembled superhero movies.

Not that he’d say that in a room full of bats.

Damian’s brows drew down even further and he sneered, displeasure evident, but Jason cut him off before he could speak.

“Before you make a comment about mad scientists I’m gonna remind you we live in a city with Viktor Fries,” he said dryly and Damian’s mouth snapped shut.

Big brother privileges.

Wouldn’t it be nice if Ellie had given Danny those?

Tucker gave Danny a confused look, and Danny just shrugged back. He didn’t pay much attention to Gotham’s various rogues; he didn’t want to tempt his Obsession.

Tim chimed in again, without actually looking at Tucker which was kinda impressive. Guess they were just very obviously new to Gotham.

“Dr Freeze. He uses a lot of liquid nitrogen and freeze rays, he’s usually after money or diamonds to try and cure his wife,” he explained with a slight shrug.

Tucker made a confused noise.

“So… couldn’t Bruce just pay him off and keep him from bothering the city?” He asked carefully, glancing around the room.

Jason actually snorted a laugh at that, shaking his head.

“If he could, he would have. What Fries wants isn’t possible yet.”

Not possible for humans. Part of Danny perked up, wondering if Frostbite might have the answers… but no. It wasn’t his job to solve every problem in the world.

Bringing healthy humans to the Zone was iffy. An already sick woman… well, she might get hastened along her journey to the afterlife.

And this was a conversation he really wanted to keep away from, honestly. Gotham’s rogues weren’t his problem. Couldn’t be his problem.

Danny fought ghosts, unkillable entities who enjoyed missile attacks as sport. He wasn’t interested in learning how squishy human rogues were; it had been bad enough with his friends in the line of fire.

Mega pass on being the firing squad.

He almost reconsidered the trip tomorrow, but… he trusted Jason. Trusted Jason knew where he was coming from, and that neither of them wanted to trip Danny’s Obsession.

So he gave the big guy a smile and an elbow nudge, nodding for the door.

“Not that rogue chat isn’t fascinating, but you were taking me to bed?” He asked hopefully, and only realised what he’d said when Harley stuffed half her fist in her mouth to laugh.

And now, now Danny had a choice. He could feel the heat threatening to build, and blushing? Blushing would make things much worse.

Jason’s cheeks had pinked and that was adorable and Danny would ectoblast anyone who gave him shit for it, but if DANNY blushed, Tucker would never let it go.

No, the better answer had to be to play it off, and what did you do to counter red in makeup? You added green.

Not that Danny had used ectoplasm as a fucking colour corrector before, but he might as well try. So he let his grin go saucy, eyebrows waggling, and tried a teeny bit of spectral ice to cool his cheeks.

It made Jason chuckle again, so he’d take it as a win, and Jason gave him another bow, hand still tucked in Danny’s arm.

“Your chariot awaits.”

Tim and Tucker mimed puking almost simultaneously. They were perfect for each other. And had no taste, so that worked out well for them.

Danny ignored them all and gave the room a last wave, heading for the door and tugging Jason along with.

“Night all, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow Harley, and Tucker just text me when you’re up and we’ll see about getting you home,” he called brightly, definitely not about to stop no matter what anyone said.

Not even when Harley hauled herself vertical and call after them,

“Oh, Danny! If the bat calendars do come out, shall I grab you a Red Hood one?” She asked saucily and Danny felt Jason’s grip spasm in his elbow.

Which. He was gonna try putting together later, but tonight he really did wanna get out of there before long.

Who even was Red Hood?

Danny’d never seen him and he hadn’t turned up at the gala, so he didn’t have a guess ready, just like Batwoman.

A couple of people in one of Danny’s classes simped constantly over his thighs, but Danny now figured it was because they hadn’t met Jason.

It was probably easiest to agree, so he gave her a thumbs up over his shoulder.

“Autographed please!”

**

The headache that had lessened as he talked to Harley was back in full swing, along with a throbbing pulse in his temples and roiling nausea in his gut.

Constantine’s damn cigarettes weren’t helping, but Bruce just didn’t feel up to wrestling them away from him.

He’d expected… well. He hadn’t expected Constantine to come through full of fire and indignation, accusing Bruce of making the fucking mess.

His bad feeling had intensified too, not in the slightest relaxed that Constantine could feel that scrungly fucking kid all the way up in the manor.

No matter what Constantine said about the “halfa”, that could not bode well. Not with the look he’d seen on the man’s fucking face.

Steph called him an occult OSHA violation in a trench coat. Anything that scared him worried Bruce.

He could put up with some smoke and some pain to get the information he needed with a minimum of fuss.

He was beginning to wish he’d gotten some sleep though. Or could have someone get him a drink of water.

He’d shown Constantine the missed call logs from Amity Park, and the magician swore in ways that made Bruce see flashes of colour.

(That might have been the concussion talking, but Bruce could remember the almost buzzing swearwords he’d heard from Sam Manson and wasn’t sure. Nothing could be trusted.)

Not at the volume of the logs, that hadn’t surprised him. No, Constantine had gotten serious when Bruce shared the logs Tim had first shown him.

‘Earth is gone. The sky is green and Earth is gone.’

“Alright, that? That’s very fuckin’ bad,” the magician grumbled, reaching into his pocket for a flask for the first time since he’d arrived.

At least it wasn’t another goddamn cigarette. Little fucking meow meow magician.

(Bruce wasn’t quite sure what that one meant, but Steph usually said it with enough derision it had to apply.)

“So I assumed,” he gritted out, jaw clenching against another pang of pain.

Constantine levelled him with a blank stare. Bruce made a conscious effort to relax his face. The tensing wasn’t helping anyway.

“No, Batman. I mean really, really not fuckin’ good. They never called again?” He asked, and the sudden gravity in his voice sunk through layers of ache and irritation.

He sounded as serious as he’d been about the oath. That definitely wasn’t good.

Bruce shook his head, scrolling demonstratively to the end of the file.

“Not after this cluster of messages, all within the same day.”

Tim had all sorts of explanations for that. Bruce fervently hoped he was right and it was just pique on the part of Amity Park; he’d take them being angry with the League over anything else.

Especially anything that made John Constantine look that serious.

“An’ the town’s still there?” He asked, like that was a reasonable question.

Except… Bruce suddenly wasn’t sure. There were alumni from Amity Park, people who’d moved away, but the sheer lack of online information about the town itself…

They hadn’t even been able to get a clear satellite image.

He should have noticed that. He should have checked that. If he hadn’t been so twisted up in his worries about Jason…

But no, that wasn’t fair.

Bruce closed his eyes a moment, calming himself down. Breathing through the sluggish throb at his temples.

None of their Amity Parkers talked about the town like it was missing, or anything out of the ordinary. His children would have flagged it.

This wasn’t an oversight, but Constantine may know something that none of his family could have assumed.

He just had to get this finished. This briefing with Constantine, his report to the League, Jason… no. Sleep first, some pain killers, a more thorough scan.

Maybe a day of recovery, as soon as he could afford one. Wait until his head cleared.

Harley was right, Jason deserved the best Bruce could give him, and trying to talk to his son now would not go well. Bruce was only barely tolerating Constantine’s presence.

For all the man was alarmingly combative about this subject, he was a pussycat compared to Jason in a mood. Jason knew far more about what would hurt Bruce most.

Jason had always been what hurt Bruce most, ever since he’d held his lifeless body. Jason, and even the thought of one of his other children following him where Bruce couldn’t go.

No. He just had to get through this.

Refocusing on John-Bloody… no, that wasn’t helping either. On Constantine.

“From what we’ve gathered from people who have left Amity Park since, they still have access to the outside world.” He wasn’t quite sure what else he could commit to now.

It didn’t seem to satisfy. It didn’t satisfy Bruce either.

“Okay, but ya remember what I said about the fabric of reality bein’ swiss fuckin’ cheese around this city?” Constantine asked, his usual drawl starkly absent.

Bruce found himself tensing again. Wishing this was something he could fight.

“Yes. We haven’t been able to receive any satellite imagery of the town, nor any footage or communication online from within.”

He could pull up all the data, all the social media, but he knew Constantine wouldn’t care. It wasn’t what he’d asked for.

And sure enough, Constantine hauled himself back to his feet, striding towards the zeta tubes.

“Right. Well, guess we’re takin’ a field trip to th’ Watchtower, B-man, because you’re really not gonna like what I’d have to do to this lovely cave to get the intel I need. We’ll need every sensor you lot have, because that?”

Constantine half turned on his walk, finger jabbing at that last message. Barely even glancing in Bruce’s direction.

It felt like an accusation.

“That’s not fuckin’ good. That sounds like the Infinite Fucking Realms,” he declared darkly, trench coat billowing around him as he stalked across the cave.

Bruce almost flinched. Like he had no control over his expressions.

He needed sleep.

He needed answers. Needed to know what had happened, and what had to happen to fix it.

Needed to know they hadn’t let a half dead child take on an entire alternate dimension alone, because no matter how little he trusted the man Danny was, the thought of the child still ached.

Needed to know if that suspicion was actually justified by anything but his own inability to accept Jason’s clear. To have an unknown factor in Jason’s life.

Constantine’s reaction was one point in Bruce’s favour.

Whatever they found about the current state of Amity Park… would tell the rest.

He forced himself out of his seat to follow Constantine, hand straying to the pocket on his belt that held his emergency stimulants.

Alfred wouldn’t be pleased, the tiny pills carried an adrenaline boost that was wearing even at full health, but he needed to be sharp. Just for a few more hours.

He could pass what they learned off to Clark and Diana, and to his children when he returned. Just for a little while. A few hours.

Amity Park had gone unnoticed for years, as little as Bruce liked that fact. He could only hope that whatever threat it presented would lie dormant just a little longer.

**

Fuck the no killing rule, Jason was gonna murder Harley Quinn. And by that, yeah, he probably actually meant “seek vengeance in some small but annoying way”, but still.

He didn’t actually have a crush on Danny. It was a bit they were putting on to fuck with his nosey brothers, and it was probably a good sign that they’d apparently fooled Harley too.

But Harley was a hopeless romantic and prone to see romance where none existed, so maybe it wasn’t that good.

More importantly, Danny didn’t fucking know he was Red Hood yet. He’d have to text Harley tonight and drill that in, since she’d definitely picked up that Danny was in on the secret.

And since apparently they were all gonna be hanging out tomorrow.

He kinda wished he hadn’t brought it up. That Harley hadn’t asked.

He’d monopolised so much of Danny’s time already over the break, three full days and they still had to make that run back to Frostbite.

Danny must have had some other plans. Something he actually wanted to do with his time instead of just following Jason around.

The gala had been fun though. And so had today, it just… Jason couldn’t help feeling he was being too needy. Too clingy, with a guy he’d known for all of a week, if you were generous.

Being around Danny made him feel like himself for the first time in fucking years, and he knew what he’d have given up for that.

He didn’t want to be too much. Too pushy. Didn’t want Danny to get sick of hanging out with him so soon, and leave him right back where he’d been; bitter, angry, and alone.

At least Danny didn’t seem to be thinking too much about Harley’s parting shot. There was definitely something on his mind, but they hadn’t actually unlinked arms.

Jason could feel his aura.

Concern-worry-worry.

Shit, they hadn’t fucking unlinked arms. Should they? Should Jason have? For fucks sake he was literally clinging to the guy, this was fucking ridiculous, he should just.

But Danny hadn’t pulled away.

It’d be weird to pull away now.

Jason managed to keep himself distracted in that little spiral all the way to the garage he’d parked his bike in. Danny waited until they left the manor’s grounds to speak again though, arms tightening around Jason’s chest.

“Pull over a sec?” He called above the wind, and Jason very firmly did not let that pitch him further. He pulled over, still firmly in the heights and far from any living souls.

Unless theirs counted. Probably not.

He dropped the kickstand and pulled off his helmet, hoping Danny just wanted to talk. Maybe ask him to make his excuses to Harley.

Ask Jason to drop him at the university and not follow him home. That’d make sense. He didn’t need a wayward puppy.

He didn’t actually get off the bike. Didn’t want to give up Danny’s arms wrapped around him, even if it was just for expedience.

And maybe realised that wasn’t a great idea when Danny rested his cheek on Jason’s back and a warm wave of relax-safe-reassurance threatened to swallow him.

“I know what you’re thinking about,” Danny admitted softly, and Jason damn near bolted. Barely heard the next words, which…

Well.

He knew Danny tended to overlook things. But it turned out he could be pretty damn perceptive too.

“She’s gonna be okay, you know. Cass. I can feel her anywhere in the city if I try, and I’ll know if something happens to her.”

And just like that, the pit dropped out of Jason’s stomach.

He’d been trying not to think about it. Pretended he didn’t know what she’d be doing when she left, out in the city, one fucking accident from being like him.

Even worrying about Danny getting sick of him was better than that.

She might not even need the pit to bring her back this time. Gotham had a fuck ton of native ectoplasm even for a city; it couldn’t not.

Ectoplasm was made of and attracted to raw emotional energy. For all that people died every day in the city, more were born or moved in to join their ranks.

Gotham would be a metaphorical ghost town if they hadn’t, instead of the literal version slowly creeping across the city’s vigilantes.

From the rogues’ overdramatic schemes to the peoples’ undercurrent of rage and defiant joy, Gotham seethed with emotion. Most of the dead didn’t stay to use the ecto up, and every rogue attack brought a fresh wave.

Not clean ectoplasm like the realms, but tainted with their individual torments, the fierce glee, the desire to burn, it all churned into an ambient ectoplasm Danny swore he’d never seen in another city.

And that defiant spirit, the Gotham je ne sais quoi that made people put up with all the rogue attacks and dangers, was powerful too. Jason had known that even as a kid.

Now, it was literally the reason he was alive.

He might have a second core filling his system with pit water, but they’d both have dried up without the boundless “fuck off” energy Gotham was built on.

He’d felt it the second he returned. He was alive in Gotham in a way he hadn’t been in Nanda Parbat, anywhere but the fucking pit. It let him think clearly.

Well.

Apparently Danny let him think clearly. That still stung. But it shouldn’t have surprised him.

He’d never been much of anything that other people didn’t make him.

It was why he didn’t really mind Clockwork trying to make him Danny’s knight within a couple hours of learning he was half dead. It was kinda what he did.

People had been using him as a weapon since he swung a tire iron at Batman himself. Protecting the guy who gave him his fucking soul back?

He’d have done that anyway, for free. And he got a kickass gun and a supernatural sense of when said asshole needed him. Honestly, easiest job of his life.

The catch would come eventually, but this whole “feeling the intent of people you talk to” thing left him way less suspicious than he still kinda felt he should be.

He’d rather that than be left nebulously owing his whole self to Danny with no way to repay him and no idea where the catch would come from.

It had just… never occurred to him that the same way Danny could reach out and find Vlad, he’d be able to find Cass. Or Jason himself, probably.

Jason hadn’t realised how tightly he’d wound himself until the pressure eased.

He sucked in a breath that seemed to fill his chest for the first time in hours, folded his arms forward onto the handlebars, and let his head rest against them.

Danny followed him down, never losing contact but his face slipping lower and lower down Jason’s back. It almost made him chuckle, imagining how they must have looked.

Actually, he did. Just a moment, a soft and almost giddy sound that he choked back immediately. He sounded… well. Not like himself.

He’d been itching since the girls left to patrol, wishing he could join them. Be Cass’s backup in the field and be sure she wasn’t going in on anything big alone.

Cass was a step beyond competent, she was exceptional and she’d been doing this for years without a shadow. On a regular day, she wouldn’t need help.

But hearing how close she was to losing her humanity and not coming back right no matter what had him on edge. He wanted to shield her, protect her from what he’d gone through.

It wasn’t that he wanted her out of the fight. The idea of asking her not to go out hadn’t even occurred to him. She could make her own choices and he’d back her with all he had.

He just absolutely fucking hated the idea that she was out there alone, while he had fucking nothing on him that’d let him go after her if she did need backup.

If she needed help, he’d have to waste time gearing up before he could go out after her. The other bats would have her back, they all would, so long as they weren’t busy too.

It wasn’t like he was anyone’s first choice for backup even now, he just.

Yeah. He might kinda get what Danny meant about his Obsession being protection. Protecting the bats was a recent addition, but Jason had burned himself out on enough missing kids since he got back to suspect.

He’d have to ask what an actual capital-letter Obsession felt like, but that would wait for another time.

Just knowing that Cass would be safe, had another pair of eyes and more powers than a Kryptonian watching her back made him feel like he could breathe again.

Even knowing that though, he was glad to have left the manor. He could take Danny home, suit up, and… wait.

Danny had no choice but to move back as he straightened, half turning to frown down at the smaller man.

“Is that why you wanted to leave?” He asked quietly, gauging Danny’s face.

Had Danny worked it out on his own? Felt him stressing out about his baby sister back in the field?

Did Danny know that Jason wanted to join her, if not necessarily which costume he wore, and cut his night short?

Would Danny do that for him?

The answer was obvious in the other man’s face as Danny shrugged, even before he spoke.

“I didn’t wanna put you on the spot, and I figured you’d rather get out of there,” he explained casually, leaning just a little into Jason. Enough to feel what warmth Danny had.

Jason hesitated for a long moment, not sure what to say. If he should thank Danny. If Danny would ask, and if Jason should tell him he was the Red Hood now.

It’d be weirder the longer he didn’t mention it. Like he was keeping a secret.

The same secret Danny had kept as a teenager, so at least he’d probably understand, but Jason didn’t like how it felt. He wasn’t fucking ashamed of being the Red Hood.

He’d done shit no one else ever could have, and every inch of his territory was safer than it had ever been without him. He was proud of what he’d done, even if he wouldn’t brag about his methods.

It worked. It got him where he was today, where he didn’t need to kill anymore because people turned tail at the hint of his damn name.

He still didn’t know how Danny felt about killing. It wasn’t something that came up in conversation much. Maybe he’d find a way to ask first.

Tonight, he managed a stiff nod and leaned a little of his own weight back into Danny. Even if the guy thought he was just gonna go home and mope there instead, it was a win.

“Thanks,” he said softly, half wishing for his helmet’s voice modulator. He didn’t like hearing his own voice sound so… vulnerable.

Danny, fucking angel of mercy that he was, chuckled softly and gave him a gentle tap upside the head.

“Yeah, well. Also wasn’t sure how the others would react to “99% of you are permanently on my radar” anyway, and I wanted to make sure you knew for Cass,” he explained cheerfully.

And yeah, Jason still hadn’t really processed that yet, and wasn’t even sure how he’d react. Smart fucking call on Danny’s part.

Chuckling under his breath, Jason shook his head and flipped the kickstand back up.

“Anything else before I take you to bed?” He asked, half teasing Danny’s own unfortunate choice of words earlier.

They were absolutely still fucking with his family to think this was some kind of romantic relationship. Maybe a bit to punish Bruce, who clearly couldn’t handle the idea of Jason happy.

Danny laughed, a hint of something Jason almost identified behind it, then settled himself more firmly against Jason’s back, hanging on properly again.

“Not a damn thing. Oh, are you gonna come pick me up tomorrow or do I make my own way to the manor to join you and Harley?” He asked, snugged up tight.

Jason had almost forgotten that was happening. Apparently. And suddenly he was glad for at least the motorcycle helmet as his cheeks flushed pink.

Fuck he’d say he was trailing after Danny like a puppy, except Danny was the one going where Jason needed to be.

Another excuse to get Danny on his bike, arms around him.

Fuck off Jason Todd, Romance Heroine. It was a goddamn jailbreak, if a legal one. Not a fucking meet cute.

“If you actually want to come,” he agreed a little hesitantly, because the voice that insisted he was just a burden and Danny was only humouring him wasn’t all displacement activity after all.

Or pit related, apparently. Delightful.

He coulda tried to pretend it was, but that had been more convincing back when it was always a background grumble of anger, not the little calm pool of happiness now sitting in his gut.

Unforeseen side effect of getting his toxic sludge cleaned up: he was gonna have to own some of his own bullshit now. Work out what was his and what wasn’t.

Danny leaned back a little, grip loosening, and Jason could feel concern like a whisper soft touch.

“Yeah… I would, if you don’t mind? It seems like he’s important to you.”

Jason wasted a moment trying to work out what the hell Danny meant by that.

Did he want to meet Croc cuz he was important to Jason? Or did he think Jason wouldn’t want him to if he was important?

Cuz while yeah, Jason considered Waylon a friend (and thanks, Harley, for the new name crisis, love that. The guy introduced himself as Killer Croc but Jason knew all about controlling a narrative) it wasn’t like he was family. Not like Dick, Cass, or the others.

Except. Roy was family. Long before any of the bats made it back into Jason’s good books, Roy was one of the first people to be happy Jason was alive.

And Waylon had helped Roy get help when Ollie fucking kicked him out.

Waylon had been a restraining hand on Jason’s shoulder too, in the bad old days. Keeping him from pushing too hard, going too big, doing something he really couldn’t come back from.

Family didn’t have to mean annoying texts at four AM. Didn’t have to come around for dinner every Sunday; how often did any of them really see Harley?

Fuck, how often would they have seen each other if Alfred didn’t have them all firmly under his culinary thumb.

Waylon had to count as a reliable old uncle at least.

And that kinda made it a different question. Did Jason want Danny to meet his family?

It had been an easy “yes” with the bats, not least because the nosy bastards would muscle their way in regardless. Croc…

Waylon never judged Jason. From his highest highs to lowest lows, he never looked down on him. Not even when he was telling Jason to stop and think.

It kinda made Jason ache for what his life should have been. His, and Waylon’s if he’d never been called Killer Croc.

And maybe it’d give Jason a read on how Danny would react to the Red Hood thing. Or whether or not Danny already knew.

Jason was gonna blame Bruce for this chronic overthinking. Definitely not something he’d had on his own.

He’d thought about it long enough that he could feel Danny tensing, and he forced himself to snap out of it. In all honesty, it wasn’t his business what Danny thought he’d get out of it.

In the end, there was no point second guessing what someone else wanted to do with their time. It was Danny’s call. Not his.

And that kinda helped.

He half shrugged, leaning back into Danny for a moment and tugging him forwards again.

“I mean, we’re not “Thanksgiving at each others’ houses” close, but… he’s helped me out since I came back. More than I expected anyone to. I don’t mind if you wanna meet him,” Jason explained.

Danny obediently moved back into position to go, his aura a gentle hum of curiosity-concern-interest at Jason’s back.

“So do I make my own way, or…”

“I’ll come get you, probably around eleven?” Jason offered, definitely NOT thinking about Danny being back in this same position very soon.

He was gonna have to get another helmet for the bike. Immortal Ghost King or not, it just felt rude at this point.

**

After Danny and Jason left, Tim, Harley, and Tucker played a few more rounds of Mariokart together. Switched to a couple other games. Damian abandoned them almost immediately, disappearing half way through a round.

Probably to start a patrol of his own, or go try to spy on Danny and Jason.

Eventually Harley wished both the boys well and headed out with a cheery wave.

“Right, maybe I’ll see ya tomorrow or maybe not, have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she called cheerfully, then paused and pointed at Tucker. “An’ keep an eye on Tim. Make sure he sleeps.”

Tim rolled his eyes, not looking up from their new round of SpiderHeck to wave her off. Tucker did, and Tim took advantage to swing across the map and cut him down with a lightsaber.

Amateur.

“Huh? Oh, sure! Fucking hell Tim,” Tuck complained as his attention switched back to the defeat screen.

Tim snickered, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs.

“Hey, not my fault you can’t keep your head in the game,” he teased smugly. Tucker poked him in the face.

“Not my fault I have enough manners to look at people when they talk to me. So is Harley gonna be staying in the manor too?” He added curiously, glancing around.

They easily had the rooms for it, though Tim didn’t really wanna think about it. What might Harley get up to on a 2am snack run?

Although it wasn’t that far from 2am now.

“I don’t think so, she has a place in the city at the moment,” he mused, his mind beginning to shift.

It wasn’t that he’d been waiting for witnesses to clear out, exactly. Everyone was in on the secret, so it shouldn’t be a big deal to head down to the Bat Cave even when they had the larger group.

It was just… they’d been having fun. It’d be rude to leave their guests, and Bruce was already being cranky down in the cave.

Of course, Tim’d gotten another ping on his zeta tube monitoring program an hour or so ago. Constantine and Bruce both checking out, probably to the Watchtower.

So it’d be safe now, and they’d reached an okay stopping point. Tim had no doubt that Tucker would prefer checking out the cave over any games.

Tim couldn’t let him on the bat computer yet, but he could show Tucker a couple of Tim’s better scanning programs. Maybe even ping Babs and see how the others were doing.

See if she had time to talk to Tucker in person. Maybe he could show them both how he’d encrypted that server, which Tim suspected would involve ectoplasm.

Not like he couldn’t link the PDA to an un-networked monitor so that they could all see what he was doing though. Hell, they could record it for Bruce.

He’d love having answers to the Amity Park problem. If Tucker would let Tim run the PDA for a few minutes…

Still, it was just good manners to check in.

Alfred would be thrilled that they were learning to communicate.

Pulling out his phone, he shot Bruce a quick text.

‘Hey, we’re gonna head down to the Cave. You mind if I give a tour?’

It didn’t take long to get a reply, which was usually a good sign. It meant Bruce wasn’t hyperfocused enough to ignore his phone.

Maybe things with Constantine were going well.

The length of the reply wasn’t as reassuring, but not a surprise either. Bruce wasn’t exactly wordy in person, and only less so over text.

‘Go ahead.’

No indication of when he’d be back, but that was fine. They could compare notes whenever that turned out to be.

Tim turned to Tucker, grinning in anticipation of the other man’s reaction.

“So, wanna see something cool?” He asked, and felt gratified when Tucker’s eyes widened and a matching grin spread across his face.

But who wouldn’t be excited to see the Bat Cave?

“Hell yeah!”

**

Tucker followed Tim eagerly out of the games room, mind already buzzing with all the things the young genius might want to show him.

Did they have a tech lab in Wayne Manor? They definitely had the space for it, and it had to be safer than keeping one at Tim’s downtown apartment.

Bruce might not have been much of a techie but Tim was personally responsible for enough big developments that he was considered a prodigy even in Tucker’s circles.

Of course the guy had the advantage of near limitless money and resources, especially after Drake Industries merged with Wayne Enterprises.

With that kinda money, Tucker himself could have revolutionised the world. But, Tuck had the advantage of the Ghost Zone and ecto tech, so he wasn’t too upset.

Especially not if Tim was really going to let him see where the magic happened.

He did nearly let out an audible groan as Tim led him into an office and activated a secret elevator in a clock. Maybe Danny had a point… maybe all billionaires were dramatic assholes.

Maybe Sam had a point, and they were all evil. Maybe Tim was bringing him down to an evil lab.

Caution reluctantly seeped into Tucker’s excitement, but he fought it off sharply. Tim was a good guy, they were becoming real friends, and Tuck couldn’t believe a fellow techie would betray him.

Besides, no one in Gotham knew shit about ghost tech, or liminals. It wasn’t like Tucker would actually be in any danger from a scrawny nerd like Tim.

Even if he did have very nice shoulders. Shapely arms. An almost snatched waist that almost tipped to androgyny, but he carried it so well.

Anyway.

Tim definitely wouldn’t hurt him.

It was probably just a super secure underground tech lab, to keep anyone from stealing secrets. Tucker let himself hype up again, imagining the kind of security measures Tim could install underground.

It’d remove the chances of someone sneaking through a back window for sure. And sure, rock wouldn’t stop a ghost, but it stopped pretty much anyone else if you added seismic sensors.

It made sense, really, putting all Tim’s very coolest and most secret cutting edge tech experiments somewhere that no one would expect, and almost no one could get to.

Tucker found himself rocking forward on his toes as the elevator descended, and flushed a little when he noticed Tim smiling.

He was excited, sue him. It beat worrying that he was about to get his first go at the Danny Fenton Lab Experience.

Thankfully no one ever cared enough to capture the nerds.

Tim was quiet on the way down, clearly savouring the anticipation, and that suited Tucker fine. It wasn’t a long ride, and he all but bounced out of the doors as soon as they opened.

Stopped.

Stared around at blank stone walls, stalactites on the ceiling, and… a waterfall? A robotic dinosaur? A row of display cases?

This was not a super cool high tech research lab.

This kinda might be a supervillain cave.

Tucker’s heart sank for a moment, especially as he noticed more and more Batman themed pieces on walls and cases.

Bruce Wayne (please don’t let it be Tim’s secret project any more, Tucker couldn’t bear it) was obsessed with Batman. Collecting trophies.

Probably wanted to catch the hero himself and stuff him in a case. Rich people were all like that apparently.

Except… the locker room? Off to one side? Where a freshly laundered Red Robin uniform hung, neat and pristine?

Collector freaks never let anyone clean their stuff, especially if it might have had gross hero sweat to obsess over.

And that was the Batmobile, parked next to a large garage door. An array of motorcycles, and Tucker was no expert on Gotham’s heroes but there were at least three colour schemes.

Someone had been changing the oil on one of them.

A massive computer screen, surrounded by smaller screens at various angles, and as he approached in awe he spotted a bat sticker on almost every monitor.

No way anyone ever stole THE Batcomputer. People would notice. Someone would talk, there were legends about Batman’s set up!

Half Tucker’s class would have killed for a look at the tech, no way they wouldn’t know if it ever got loose.

Which meant.

Tucker knew his jaw had dropped. Couldn’t find it in himself to close it as he turned back to Tim, eyes wide, and watched all colour drain from the other man’s face.

“Is this the fucking Bat Cave?! Is Bruce Fucking Wayne actually Batman?!” He exclaimed eagerly, not even wondering why Tim suddenly looked so shocked.

This really was the best day ever.

Wait.

“You DO know the fucking Oracle!”

**

Well.

The curse of Robin had come for Tim at last. Bruce was absolutely going to fucking kill him.

But, okay, in his defence, it totally wasn’t Tim’s fault! He’d assumed Tucker already knew because Danny one thousand percent definitely did, he called Dick out in costume!

And Tucker was still trustworthy! Still an asset! And he’d help Tim get past the firewalls, get into Amity Park, all they had to do was get enough work done before Bruce came back.

And killed Tim.

For bringing an unknowing civilian into the fucking bat cave.

Best day ever.

Tim sucked in a great rasping breath, suddenly aware that he’d completely stopped breathing somewhere in there, and shook his head.

Okay. Snap out of it Tim.

Those nights with Alfred-supervision had made him weak, no way only thirty-six hours without sleep should have done this to him.

Too bad, sleep deprivation would have been a great excuse.

He wasted a moment lamenting his lack of immediate coffee and turned his focus to the actual problem: the Amity Park firewall.

Tucker was still staring at him in awe and triumph, though worry was creeping in. Tim pulled on a charming smile, walking to the batcomputer and gesturing for Tucker to join him.

“Uh… yeah, sorry, I thought Danny already told you or I’d have said. I didn’t mean to spring it on you,” he lied, like he’d have ever let the secret slip.

Tucker pouted then, folding his arms.

“Oh, of course Danny knows. Bet that’s how he and Jason met. So does that mean you’re…” he trailed off curiously, clearly hoping Tim would fill in the blank.

Tim considered being mildly offended that Tucker didn’t think he could be Oracle, but he valued his digital security. Zero chance Babs wouldn’t be pulling this video up later for a laugh.

He nodded to his suit instead, the new one hanging waiting. Probably for tomorrow night at this point, since there was no reason to change just to hang out in the cave.

“Red Robin. I ah… saw you last night at the gala,” he added sheepishly, wondering just how much of Tim’s minor breakdown Tucker had noticed while waiting to give Tim the tablet.

And Tucker’s eyes lit up, clearly remembering, and he grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Oh! That explains why you left, huh? I guess someone had to deal with the rogues and stuff,” he mused thoughtfully.

Tim had to hope he wasn’t thinking about the exact same thing. At least the discovery was going well so far; Tim couldn’t think of many people he’d had to share this particular secret with, and most of the ones who did had been villains at one time or another, but still.

Tucker was keeping up, wasn’t freaking out, and had gotten over his surprise in record time. Tim definitely wasn’t disappointed.

Tuck had been a vigilante himself after all, it’s not like he was a civilian. And had already admitted he didn’t pay much attention to vigilantes, so he might not even know which one Red Robin was.

It’d just. Have been nice if he was more impressed.

Not that Tim cared. He wasn’t Red Robin to impress people, and usually didn’t even think about it.

And Tucker didn’t seem surprised or upset when Tim steered him to one of the tables beside the batcomputer instead of the big baby itself, and got one of the un-networked monitors out.

“Pretty much. I get a little… antsy if a takedown goes too easily, because with Riddler it usually means we’re missing something,” he explained dryly, pointing Tucker to a second wheely chair to pull over, “but yesterday it was apparently just a shitty rush job on his part.”

Tucker snickered at that, wheeling the directed chair over and sitting eagerly beside Tim, still darting looks at the bigger screens.

“Should I be mad I didn’t get their best work?” He mock-pondered, and Tim snickered.

“Probably. But Riddler and Croc aren’t really A-listers or big on the mass destruction side anyway.”

“Waylon,” Tucker corrected almost absent mindedly, pulling out his PDA.

Tim missed exactly what he did next as he remembered Harley’s little tidbit, and he pulled a face.

“Yeah… I’ve not exactly had the one-on-one time with him Jason’s had, I don’t think we’re on a first name basis,” he explained, shaking his head as the monitor sprung to life.

Tucker snorted a laugh, flicking through screens on the PDA.

“What, Mr Jones then? Want me to just start downloading the Amity Park records first, then we’ll go hunting?” He added, and Tim nodded quickly, snickering himself at the vision.

Nothing threw a shining ball of confusion into a fight like calling someone “Mr Jones”. He’d have to try it if Croc… Mr Jones was gonna be back on the scene.

It was the name that went on all of his prison paperwork, so it wasn’t like it was a secret identity the same way the bats had.

“Honestly? Better than Waylon. And yeah, we can start with the government files and news reports, just so we have a backup. Then we’ll look around and find out what else B thinks we’ll need.”

Tucker snickered beside him, flicking quickly through screens on the PDA. Despite it being purely for his benefit, Tim pretty much ignored the monitor, keeping most of his attention on the device itself.

It was chunky and very retro, but given the processing power and space for storage? There was a definite charm to it.

Maybe Tucker would let him play around on it later.

But, in the spirit of not being killed when Bruce returned… there was one thing they definitely needed to talk about.

“I…” Tim sucked in a deep breath. He’d put good money on Tuck, Danny, and Sam being what actually solved Amity Park’s last calls to the League.

It might be a traumatic memory. Probably was. But he had to ask. And better him than Bruce.

Tucker looked up when he trailed off, making a curious noise. Not exactly asking what Tim wasn’t saying, but showing he’d noticed the pause.

Sighing to himself, Tim wheeled across to the batcomputer. Bruce probably still had the files up.

“I also think we need to talk about these,” he explained, pulling up the records for the Justice League’s missed calls. Hundreds of them.

Tucker just looked nonplussed for a moment, then sobered. Probably when the dates sank in and told him what they were talking about.

“Oh… yeah. Probably,” he agreed, sounding more serious than Tim had ever heard him. Which kinda proved Tim’s point about traumatic memories.

Leaving the records on screen, Tim wheeled back over, pulling out one of his larger recorders. This conversation might take a while.

“Do you mind if I just record what you tell me? B’s gonna want a full write up. He’s off ripping a strip off of Constantine as we speak, probably, cuz whatever he did… this lot went past voice mail and straight to the trash.”

It wasn’t exactly an apology, wasn’t exactly an excuse, and Tim cut himself off before it turned into whining. The past was past, and it was too late to change that now.

Something complicated crossed Tucker’s face as he spoke, and Tim tried not to look too closely. Didn’t want his overly analytical side latching on.

The only thing they could do was work out what happened, and if there was still anything the league could do to make up for majorly dropping the ball.

Tucker sucked in a deep breath of his own, letting it out in a low whistle.

“Y’know, I thought we were coming down here for fun and tech talk,” he said almost wistfully, and Tim chuckled wryly.

“We can definitely still do that. It’ll just unknot Bruce’s panties some if we’ve got this part out of the way before he gets back. That way you’re just telling me, no “swooping menace in the shadows”,” he added half sarcastically, and Tucker laughed.

He looked… well. Haunted. But that wasn’t exactly a sensible descriptor for a guy who spent years hunting ghosts.

Not too bad though. No tremors, no tightness in the eyes or jaw that said he was hiding something. His skin was still a rich, warm brown, no paler than before.

If he was having a deeper reaction than the tiredness, he was hiding it in a way Tim couldn’t hope to spot. That… was probably the best sign Tim had seen about this particular shit show.

Chuckling to himself, Tucker checked the PDA one more time, then set it on the table and turned to face Tim directly.

“Yeah, might as well do it during the file download. Your setup is gorgeous, but that’s still gonna take a while. If you ask me, you’re not gonna need to ask Danny about it later, right?” He asked, and Tim bit his lip.

Less good sign. Seemed Danny carried more of the weight of this one too.

“B’ll probably want his side, and to check the stories match, but Jason won’t let him push Danny into anything,” he offered instead of a blanket statement.

Tucker cocked his head a little, examining Tim for a long moment in a way that made him feel almost… dissected. Like a piece of tech Tucker had taken apart, and was looking for secrets in.

Finally the older boy nodded and shrugged, leaning back.

“Yeah, fair. It’s damn hard to pin Danny down if he wants to leave anyway. There’s some Fenton tech that’d do it, but it’s not like you can get that here. So… where do you want me to start?”

Filing away that comment about the Fenton tech for later, Tim jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the big screen.

“Do we have time to start at the beginning? The first calls?” He asked, half expecting the answer to be “no”.

Tucker glanced down at his PDA, and snickered.

“Well, I can give you the Cliff’s Notes version. And then if you have questions you can ask?”

Which… yeah, Tim glanced at their little offline monitor. It was a pretty big download; Tucker had meant it when he said he was grabbing everything for them.

That had to be a sign of good faith, right?

And then after that they’d have to shift everything over to an un-networked hard drive. After whatever Tuck had to do to de-ecto it.

Shoulders settling, Tim put the recorder on the table before him.

“Sounds good. So… Tucker Foley, current top student at MIT and soon to be receiver of a Wayne Enterprises internship,” he teased, enjoying the way Tucker snickered again, also visibly relaxing.

Might as well make this as comfortable as possible. They could break after Tucker finished for some drinks or something.

“What happened in Amity Park?”

**

On the Watchtower, Bruce slid his phone back into its pouch on his utility belt and returned his attention to the pacing magician.

He’d pulled up every type of reading they could gather from Amity Park for the week of the last distress call, and from their current logs.

Thermal imaging, infrared and ultraviolets, seismography, electromagnetic waves, spectrography, and several that Bruce wasn’t sure what they were, just that the Justice League Dark were the only ones who used them.

The fact that even Bruce could see extremely obvious spikes on more than half of them was not a good sign. It made checking the dates almost superfluous.

Nor was the way that even though those spikes had lowered within that same day… they’d never gone all the way back down.

In every magical sense they could detect (and half a dozen scientific ways he was actually comfortable with), Amity Park glowed like a cartoon nuke.

The only good news was that their radiation sensors had gone straight back down to normal after the initial spikes. Which made no scientific sense given the normal decay of radioactive materials, but Bruce was not going to argue.

He appreciated Tim checking in though. The gesture towards clearer communication. He wasn’t sure exactly what Tim would want to show Harley in a tour of the bat cave, but honestly?

He wasn’t going to ask. It was nice to have something that wasn’t his problem, and he trusted Tim and Harley, together or separately.

It wasn’t like Tim would bring anyone else down to the cave.

——————

😇

I regret nothing.

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Next Chapter:

[little-pondhead]

DP x DC Prompt

…

There are no more heroes.

Well, okay. Rewind a bit.

Danny has been doing the hero thing for a while now. He’s had a big reveal; everyone has accepted him (including his parents), the GIW disbanded, the Anti-Ecto acts repealed, and generally, everything is going great. Some of the A-Listers are even training as junior ghost hunters to help give him a break from his rogues! (Being Ghost King makes things hectic sometimes, and he just needs the extra help. Sue him!)

The point is, literally nothing is wrong with Danny Phantom’s afterlife.

And then Valerie Gray, the Red Huntress, disappears in front of his eyes.

Danny is baffled! She’s just…gone! Valerie just popped out of existence, like she was never there. But no matter how hard he searches in the Ghost Zone, he can’t find her soul anywhere. His core isn't broken in grief. So she’s not dead. Which is good. So then, where is she?

Some of the others come forward with ideas on how to find her. A few ghosts volunteer to go out into the mortal realm, an area Danny had declared off-limits, to see if she was out there. Danny approves it. He rounds up some of the friendlier (i.e., discreet) ghosts and Amity Parkers and demolishes the outside travel ban.

So everyone spreads out, looking for their dear frenemy and teammate. But it becomes apparent very quickly that something is wrong with the rest of the world.

There are no more heroes.

Every single living superhero on the face of the Earth has just…vanished. Villains are running amok; the countries are in chaos! Some aliens are invading Earth, mythical deities are trying to take over, and society is crumbling to the ground. Everything is on the brink of collapse.

Well, Danny was still there. And so were his people. They were pretty spread out, so could they just…take up the mantles? He also knew where to find the souls of dead heroes in the Zone; surely they wouldn't mind coming out of retirement for a little bit, especially if they couldn't die again. Oh! And that skeleton army leftover from Pariah Dark's reign might be useful in repelling those invading forces.

Honestly, there were more than enough hands to go around! And with the heroes gone, Danny didn't mind letting everyone out for a little break, as long as they followed his rules. They wouldn't stop the search for the other heroes, but hopefully, when they found them, the heroes wouldn't mind Danny's intervention too much. :)

In other words:

Someone fucks up, and all of Earth's living heroes are either wished out of existence or are whisked away to some far-off realm where Danny hasn't checked yet. In the attempt to figure out what's going on, Danny lets the dead run amok over the Earth as they search for clues. The skeleton army repels the invading armies, the souls of dead heroes deal with the world leaders, and his rogues and other Amity Parkers set up shop in place of famous heroes, trying to get the cities under control again.

Basically, they just do their best to keep everything from imploding until the Justice League and others are back.

(And why is it that Danny hasn't disappeared? Well, whatever caused everyone to go poof! only affected living heroes. Anyone heroes that were dead in the first place, or even just half-dead, stayed behind.)

[enigmaris]

Another DPXDC for ya fellas!

Pandora, the ghost, was an Amazon from Themyscira in life, losing her life to trap all of those eldritch horrors in her box. In her afterlife, she has kept in contact with the other Amazons, coming to their aid when called upon.

So when the first child of themyscira was molded out of clay, Pandora knew. She liked Diana, admired her stubbornness, strength, and sense of wonder. She knew the girl had left to go to the world of man a while ago, but hadnt heard anything else about her. She wasnt worried about her though, Diana was the strongest of all the Amazons, kind and brave. The world of man would not pose too much of a danger to her.

After the whole thing her box getting stolen and Danny returning it to her. She takes on something if a motherly role to Phantom. She doesn't really know how kids work though, she comes from a race of women where there were no children. Diana is literally the only living child she has ever known. Pandora herself was never even a child. When Danny flees from his life in Amity Park (reveal gone wrong, family dies, or something) he goes to Pandora who wants to help him, but her acropolis is no place for a half living boy. So she tells him about her niece Diana.

"She was the only child of my people, when she grew up she left to the world of man."

Literally the only child??? Danny is imagining like, someone maybe his sister Jazzs age who ran away from home because she lived on an island with all adults and no fun. It does not help his assumption that Pandora talks about Diana like shes still wet from the clay she was molded in.

Danny is given a letter written by Pandora, asking Diana to help care for him and told that last Pandora heard her little niece lived in Washington DC. Danny goes to DC and manages to find Diana based on Pandora description. She is not at all what Danny was imagining, but she takes him to her home and reads the letter describing Danny's heroics with Pandoras box.

Diana Prince takes one look at this human boy and thinks to herself: if Bruce and Clark can just show up with a teenager, then why can't i?

Queue the next Justice League meeting:

"I would like to introduce my son, Daniel of Themyscira, he will be accompanying me on all Justice League missions. No Batman i will no be accepting any criticism from you of all people."

Danny, in human form, waves at the team of heroes with his string bean arms.

"Hi."

[sunderwight]

A fun prospect for Superhero-themed SV AU's that I don't often see is genre dissonance. Like, Luo Binghe as this edgy 90's style antihero who just straight up kills his enemies and sleeps around and is driven by selfish motives (revenge, ambition, etc) rather than altruistic morality, vs Shen Qingqiu as this kid-friendly supervillain who is "evil" mostly in terms of aesthetics and his ability to make inconvenient problems that are reasonably safe for child heroes to solve. Something like Punisher vs Team Rocket in terms of vibes.

Maybe the reason they meet is because some big publishing house akin to Marvel or DC just bought up the rights to whole bunch of older, discontinued comics titles, and decided to do a Justice League/Avengers style mash-up with a bunch of nostalgia properties and their most recognizable heroes and villains. Which means lots of crossovers condensing several titles into a handful of series.

Luo Binghe's origin always features him as a teenager, so he reboots as the youngest Avenger-equivalent team member in the new continuity. Even in this reboot, however, the writers still mostly go the gritty and dark route with his plots and stick to the same key developments -- his abandonment as an infant, his adoptive mother's tragic death, his tough life on the streets, abusive mentors and backstabbing "allies", and so on.

But Luo Binghe's life suddenly starts experiencing periods of dramatic change in his life when he's brought in for appearances in the lighter, friendlier world of the Junior Heroes continuity. After all, he's a natural choice for tying the two continuities together thanks to his youthfulness. Luo Binghe isn't consciously aware of the fact that he's moving between different titles and different writers. All he knows is that sometimes, when he hangs out with the bright and talented Ning Yingying, he's drawn into "conflicts" with Shen Qingqiu -- the kind of "villain" who will call for tea breaks, never actually hits anyone when he shoots his ray gun, leaves clues for all of his crimes, and can't seem to stop from imparting genuinely helpful advice in between his witty quips and taunts.

When Luo Binghe fights Shen Qingqiu, somehow he never actually gets hurt. Neither do any of his friends. The world in general seems brighter and lighter, as if there is some secret barrier protecting everyone from all the evils Binghe knows only too well exist in the rest of his life. Luo Binghe is increasingly convinced that Shen Qingqiu is the source of this mystical safety net. After all, for an allegedly powerful genius who is able to fool half the world about his wicked aims, he's never won a single fight against a kindhearted but somewhat ditzy teenager and her ragtag bunch of friends!

So what's he spending his actual energy on?

Luo Binghe is pretty sure it's keeping the real evils at bay. Making himself the biggest bad in town, and in doing that, making it so that the "biggest bad" is nothing worse than a slightly judgmental teacher in a pretty costume.

It's not long before Luo Binghe doesn't want to go back to the Justice League equivalent, to his world of misery and strife, even after his visits with Ning Yingying are supposed to be over. Especially as the global stakes of various heroic activities start getting higher, and it becomes clear that the boundary between Shen Qingqiu's safe world and the grimdark reality of Binghe's usual life are getting thinner...

[alyakthedorklord]

Batman the Playboy

Justice League, not quite early days but before proper identity reveals, though everyone knows Batman knows theirs, bc he has Opinions™ and Constructive Criticisms™ on their secret-keeping.

The issue is brought up on random occasions. The most notable incident- the Justice League, including Batman, being Drunk for Bonding, (or hit with some kind of drug while out saving the world) and Batman, in a fit of paranoid good intentions because he CARES about these idiots, damnit, why must they be so careless, starts insulting them.

Batman, leaning heavily on the table: “GL, you’re a mess, I don’t even know where to start with you. And Arrow! Your goatee is so distinctive, it’s a wonder no one has called you out on it-“

Green Arrow, also drunk: “Alright, there’s no need to insult my awesome facial hair-”

Batman, in despair: “It’s so ugly.”

Green Arrow: (offended noises)

Green Lantern: “Okay, the only reason you know our secret identities is because you’re a rude nosy bastard who needs to know everything about us like a creepy stalker who needs an ego boost! We’re not stupid, Spooky, we’re just polite. We could figure you out easily if we wanted to. Superman can see right through your mask!”

Usually, Batman would have a good response to that. Something smart and reasonable like “villains won’t care for your privacy, I’m testing you,” or something cutting like “I don’t care enough about you to go digging, I set your secret identity as a training exercise for Robin.”

However, Batman is Drunk, because for some reason imbibing drugs that dampen higher brain function is socially acceptable and often, for some reason, expected, because it’s “team bonding” and “come on just loosen up a bit.” (Also for him, drunk=Brucie)

So what Batman ends up saying is: “I could kiss you full on the lips in my secret identity and you wouldn’t know a thing.”

Superman, plucking the glass from Batman’s hand: “Aaaand that is enough alcohol for you!”

Batman nods. Thank God. He wants to go home and sleep. But first: “Superman, yours is so stupid it’s almost impressive-”

———

Of course, Green Lantern has smelled a challenge. And Green Lantern must annoy Batman. It’s his true superpower. So, the next time they meet (sober) he brings up the issue again.

GL: “So about what you said at the party… the part where you could kiss us full on the lips without us knowing. You still confident in that without liquid courage, Spooky? Bet you your real name you can’t do it.”

Batman, regretting the fact that alcohol has ever passed his lips: “I could do it, but I will not.”

Flash, curious: “Why’s that?”

Batman: “Informed Consent. I will not risk making any of you feel violated, or manipulated, for the sake of a stupid bet and my ego.”

GA, still offended by the goatee comment, trying to back Batman into a corner: “So if we give consent, we’re fair game? Try me, Batman. Even you can’t pull this off. Anyone else game?”

Some of the Justice League laughs, raising their hands.

Flash: “Come get me, hot stuff! I’ll call you out!”

Wonder Woman: “It could be amusing.”

Martian Manhunter: “I would be far too difficult a target.”

Green Arrow: “Not just you. C’mon, Spooky, flirting well enough to get a kiss from me? I’m a classy lady.”

Black Canary: “D-class, maybe.”

Superman, wants a kiss in on the fun: 🙋🏻‍♂️

“So that’s it then!” Green Lantern says smugly. “Batman, if you can kiss… how many people raised their hands? Ah yes- HALF THE JUSTICE LEAGUE, without anyone realizing it’s you, then you win.”

Batman scoffs and walks out, leaving the Justice League in stitches at their joke. Because- Batman? Being good enough at flirting to land a kiss on half the league, without it being forced or awkward, without them recognizing his body language, his voice, his build? How ridiculous!

The Batman is Autistic. The Batman does not understand jokes, especially not ones that are half truths. The Batman has consent, and something to prove.

And Bruce Wayne, billionaire, playboy, and sexy DILF, has targets.

(Please tell me how you think he gets each League member.)

Edit: there have been a bunch of awesome additions in the notes! My own take here.

[flamingpudding]

Triple Identity Crisis

Danny had a problem. If it was a big one, he couldn't tell yet but he was partially sure Clockwork was at fault for this. Or at least he wanted to blame his ghostly godparent who most likely just wanted to cause some chaos for entertainment with the pretext of helping Danny. Which was a very likely reason for why Danny had a problem right now.

As it was the former Fenton now Fenton-Wayne boy was pacing his room in the Manor trying to think what is next step should be, because as it was his 'new' family –Did new still apply if he was living with them for a little more than a year now? – knew him under three different Identities now. And to top it all off they were not aware that the three identities were all pretty much connected as one.

For one. His family, knew him as Danny, the space obsessed kid, who became a meta because of his ectobiology science obsessed parents and his teenager recklessness. A kid that was actually a genius if you gave him enough time for school and could make you anything out of a ancients be damed toaster. That was the Danny they mainly knew. The Kid they took in, let in on the family business and then chose, to the happiness of Alfred and dismay of some of his 'new' siblings, normal life over vigilante life.

Then they knew Phantom. A dead ghost hero that was helping the Justice League and Young Justice to help them deal with the aftermath of the huge fallout caused by the GIW, Guys in White or rather Ghost Investigation Ward. And while Danny didn't know he had apparently worked with nearly his entire family and that time he knew it now. Which was awkward because he had pretty much pestered one of his elder brothers about his condition until Red Hood, aka Jason, let Phantom help him. Ancient, things might get awkward if that secret is lifted. He had done a lot of things Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Orphan and Robin had scowled him for. Thankfully they only thought of him as a dead teen hero and didn't know what a Halfa was. So they didn't make the connection, and he had yet to meet Signal, aka Duke as Phantom.

Now came the third identity, which totally did not happen by his choice. After all officially he hadn't accepted the throne yet and would only get it once he was dead dead not half dead. To bad ancient texts don't care about formalities. So when trouble hit the fan really hard the Justice League Dark had the bright Idea of getting some other worldly help. Which in other words was summoning the Ghost King. Oh boy, was it fun to learn that way that Danny could get summoned against his will. Clockwork did not give him that warning when he told him about the future of his afterlife. But best of all? Oh he doesn't get summoned as Phantom which would have made things maybe a bit easier, oh no. Life wasn't easy. He got someone's in some as a super weird black-green mass of a formless eltrich body with sharp teeth, claws and glowing green eyes with no pupils or irises. Hell Danny even scared himself when he saw his own reflection in a window and he didn't have a single idea how to change his form.

Let it be known that Danny acted then on purpose like he didn't know a single person in that room he had been summoned in right out of his bed and that he wasn't staring at his adoptive father like he needed help who interpreted his stare as the ghost king sizing him up. And Danny knows this because Dick had a good laugh about that at the dinner table with the rest of his siblings.

Now a smart person would probably come clean to his family and explain to them the three identities they knew him under and how they are connected.

To bad Danny wasn't 'smart' when it came to things like that. No in his panic and newfound awkwardness of the situation of what he had done on separate occasions with his identity as Phantom AND Ghost King, he decided to keep acting like he didn't knew them personally like the truely does. Really how hard could that be? Besides he liked the way his family treated him now. He didn't want to get treated differently because he was half dead, or a Ghost King. He liked that his family was treating him as plain old Danny who had an obsession with space and was their quirkily little brother with powers.

So that gave him even more incentive to keep the act up. Even if it was hard at times, especially if he got summoned out of nowhere. It would be easier if he could get a hang of the duplication power. He even had played with the thought of getting one of his ghost rogues to help but his family was perceptive. Maybe not perceptive enough to realise that all three identities were one and the same person but they would notice if Danny acted just slightly different or if Phantom was more of then usually. But somehow he still managed to keep it up.

But it was the hard way that he learned, Danny was bad at doing the 'talking' and realized that maybe Jazz was right and he was going to slip up one day causing huge misunderstandings like right now.

He stared down at Batman and Nightwing in his Ghost King form. Red Hood had his guns pulled on him, Wonder Woman and Superman looked like they where going to try to pull back Batman any second now while Nightwing, maybe at first was going to try to calm down the bat but Danny was pretty sure the eldest bat kid was now fiercely glaring at him too. He was also pretty sure the only reason he didn't see Red Robin or Robin threaten him too was because their super friends were somehow holding them back. For their own or his safety he doesn't know at the moment.

Because apparently the Bats did not fear fighting otherworldly beings to protect one of their own.

"What did you just say about Danny Fentons death?!" Batman grunted out and Danny just knew his adoptive father was glaring at him. Ancients Danny cursed his brain to mouth filter right now. As he had the collective hero scene before him staring at his Ghost King form. Would this be a good or bad moment to come completely clean or maybe he should find some kind of philosophical bullshit of 'All things death belong to him'....

[new-revenant]

Twenty something year old Danny becomes a preschool teacher to a class of young meta and liminal kids, he helps to keep the kids calm when they discover their abilities and is genuinely one of the better teachers at the school. He's also a part time member of the Justice League. He's in the middle of a meeting when he gets a call from a freaked out substitute teacher saying one of the kids is stuck halfway through the wall and doesn't know what to do. Danny excuses himself and explains that one of his kids is having a small problem and he'll be right back and then leaves not realizing the chaos he left behind in his wake as the Justice League believe that Phantom has multiple kids and is a single father

I love teacher!Danny AUs, they are always so wacky and fun. And this seems so sweet! I love misunderstanding plots where the misunderstanding is something super simple. And plots where characters think someone is talking about their children children, when they’re actually talking about their students or something. Basically I love this prompt <3

So the JL know Danny is Phantom and stuff, probably are also away that’s he’s a ghost. Danny says that one of his kids is stuck in a wall at school and the substitute teacher is freaking out, so he’s gotta go real quick. Once he leaves one of the members(I’m thinking Flash because…I like him)is like, “Soo…wanna bet on how many kids he has? I’m guessing three-no-four.” The meeting quickly devolves into this conversation, until Batman or someone else steers it back.

After the meeting, rumors spread through the JL about Danny’s kids, and many bets are made. It takes them a while for everyone to figure out that Danny is just a teacher and not a father. Some figure it out faster than others though, but they think it would be funnier if they go along with the father Danny idea. Batman definitely knows what’s going on, he should know what Danny’s job is at the very least. He does consider the fact that maybe he might be a father, but that thought is short lived.

[i-cant-sing]

Mmmhhh thinking about Yandere Batfam reacting to a reader who runs a very popular blog where she absolutely bashes Batman and Robins- and the batfam takes your criticism very seriously. Maybe not at first, but then Damian (the easiest to tick) got pissed off when you wrote how "he's just a kid in a cheap Halloween costume" and when Damian gets pissed off, he whines. He whines and whines and whines until Dick and Bruce finally listen to him and do something about it. That's when they find out about the extensive threads about them, criticising meticulously each and every action of theirs, how they're causing more financial harm to Gotham and allowing themselves to be idolised and causing more people to comit crimes just so that they could have their 5 seconds of fame with Batman. And ofc theirs a whole page about the Batsignal.

I mean, Damian and Tim have already found out who runs the page (though they had a little bit of a hard time sniffing u out. You were good at covering your tracks). While Damian and Tim are busy going to "have a talk with you", Bruce is at home reading your entire blog about Batfam and realising how some of your points.... kinda makes sense. So, he buys the app where you write your blogs, then has Damian bring you over to the Wayne offices, where he explains he just wanted to meet the person running the blog that generates the most readers on the app. You, just a 23 year old student who's blogging as a side hustle.

You're obviously stunned because why are you meeting Bruce Wayne and also confused because again, why are you here exactly??? Bruce just says that he likes your insights and would like to know more, and he's happy to pay you by the hour you spend talking to him and also on the blog.

He's very much determined to make Batman and Robins be good in your mind, and not that he cares much about what people think about him, it doesn't hurt to have good PR for heroes, lest people should try revolting against Justice league and only end up hurting themselves. There's only so much he could do to calm his metahuman friends.

You're again- CONFUSED, but you like money. The only thing you tell him is that you get to write whatever you want, complete creative control and that you can write about anyone you wish. Ofc, it doesn't register to Bruce that you could possibly write against his family- against his name.

So in the beginning, things are going great. Reader continues making calculated judgements and comments about Batfam and how they could possibly improve themselves, the batfam takes note and tries to do most of the things. Then you'd write something that could almost be seen as praise for "changing their old ways" and they all feel a little bit proud. They don't realise it but some members of the batfam (like damian and Dick) start craving your approval of their actions.

Perhaps something happens, maybe you don't find it fun to write about the bats anymore, so you shift your mind towards a new topic-

The Wayne's.

You research a bit, finding it a little odd at Bruve Wayne's generosity to be adopting random ass kids, a super duper clean record, no scandals or anything- it just- it doesn't feel right. No one's that clean. They have to be hiding something.

So when u can't find anything against them, you let your imagination go wild and start making conspiracy theories, kinda feel like reader goes in her gossip girl era to stir things up so that someone would come forward with something- anything.

Bruce's eyes almost bulge out as he reads the blog's headline-

"The secrets of Gotham's favourite billionaire playboy!"

Shit- did you figure out he's batman?

Nope. In fact, you covered everything but that. From theories about him adopting troubled kids for PR, to the Wayne family actually being a chauvinist cult, to conspiracies about his ties with the Rothschild, his philanthropic donations being a front for illegal activity, the Wayne Manor holding lavish nsfw parties, and even a classic "they drink virgin maiden blood!"

Bruce stood in your apartment, eyes narrowing at your sleeping form on the couch.

"Bruce? What- how did you get in?" You don't remember unlocking your door.

"What is the meaning of this?" He pulled up your article on his phone.

"Huh?" You took a closer look, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "Oh. Yeah, I wrote that."

"Why?"

You shrugged. "I was bored."

"What?" Bruce could feel himself getting angry. How could you be so nonchalant about the lies you wrote?

"You know this isn't true." "I do." "Then why did you write it?" "I told you, I was bored. Besides, you told me I could write about anyone." You get up with a sigh. "I don't get why you're so worried about this. Barely anyone reads this stuff."

Bruce's brows went up. "There's a 1000 plus views on this already!"

"What?" your eyes twinkled. "A thousand already? Its not even been 24 hours since I posted. Wow, people really do enjoy conspiracy-" you shut up when you saw his glare. "Right, sorry."

"Take it down, now." Bruce orders, brow twitching when you just walk past him and into the kitchen, pouring yourself some coffee. "Why?" you asks after taking a sip.

He glares at you. "Because it isnt true-"

"Then give me something that is."

Bruce stared at you. Is this... is this your way of wanting an interview?

You sighed. "Look, just let me interview you family, I promise to only write the truth and only the truth. No conspiracies, I swear."

"Or I could just fire you. Better yet, have you sued for defamation."

You nodded. "You could, but honestly that would only bring more attention to the articles and more conspiracies would arise. Besides, you and I both know you cant stop me from writing even if I'm in jail."

Bruce watched you walk upto him, holding your phone in your hand. "Come on, just one week- one week at your place, I'll even let you read the article before I post it. If you dont like it, I'll delete it."

I mean... it did sound like a pretty good bargain. Besides, at his home, youd be in a more supervised space.

So here you are, standing in the lobby of the Wayne manor as a posh butler leads you to Bruce's office. Of course Alfred will be a part of your articles. He's too fancy to not be.

And so over the course of a week, you dont really find anything particularly intriguing about the family, even after you interviewed each member. You're mentally groaning at the thought of writing yet another boring article... that is until you accidentally discover the batcave (ok not accidentally, u hid a recorder in Bruce's office and u heard the man discussing about it with Dick)

Anyways, it didnt take long for you to discover the cave, and it took you even less for you to write a scandalous article.

"RICH MAN COSPLAYS AND PRACTICES HIS JUJUTSU SKILLS ON THE MENTALLY ILL! SEE PICTURES OF WHERE HE ROLEPLAYS IN MASKS!"

Unfortunately, before you hit "post", your phone is snatched and you're knocked out.

When you come to, Bruce is sitting in front of you looking beyond pissed while you're tied up in your seat.

"We had a deal, Y/n." Bruce gritted out.

"So? Deal was off the moment I found out you were Batman." You shrugged.

"We had a deal-"

"You really expect me to just pretend like I'm blind after I found out who you really are? Do you think anyone would just give up on a scoop this big?" You tilt your head at him.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at you. "Scoop? Thats what this is to you?"

You nodded. "Sure, you're a hero who fights crime and brings "peace" to Gotham, but who knows for sure? After all, thats how you want the world to see you." You lean as far as your restraints allow you. "I dont trust you, Bruce. Not one bit. There's just- this gut feeling about you. Nothing personal, but I dont get good vibes from you."

"Is that so?" Bruce raised his brow before sighing. "I guess there's no reason to let you go then."

"What?"

He nodded to himself. "Yes, if I let you go now, you'll only cause more trouble for me, but also for yourself. If you post content like that, people will target you- yes, I definitely cant let you go. You're an impulsive idiot who'd endanger herself just to not be bored."

Your eyes widen. "You cant kill me."

Bruce scoffed. "Dont be ridiculous, I can, but I wont. I just want to take care of you, protect you from yourself." He stood up. "I did a little bit of research on you too, yknow? You keep your personal life super private, I have to give credit to you, it wasnt easy to find out about your family. But... money makes the mare go."

Your throat dried as you saw a glint in his eyes. He knew... he couldnt-

Bruce's footsteps echoed as he neared you and ruffled your hair. "Poor you... having to deal with a schizoprenic mom." He leaned down to smile gently at you, but you could sense the sinister intent.

"Dont worry, she'll be taken care of at Gotham Asylum while you stay with us."

girl idk where i was going with this, i just needed to get it out of my drafts (i have another long incomplete draft about platonic yandere dick x gymnast reader where he basically is intrigued by this mini tonya harding who lives for her dead beat father's approval who doesnt give a shit about her unless she comes first. so its upto dick to adopt u and make u a part of batfam)

[elixirina]

Can I request a Jason Todd X Wondergirl!Reader where shes Wonder woman's daughter and side kick?

They were super close and started dating b4 be died as Robin, and they reunite after his revival.

The JL and Young Justice shipped them like crazy, Bruce looked at her like a daughter, and she was also close with Dick and Tim.

Similar to how Dick had Donna, Tim has Cassie, Jason has Reader 💓

It can be smut, fluff, angst, or a combination, I really don't mind, I love all of your work it's addictive 💕💕💕

If you don't mind, you can ignore this aspect if you want, but could WonderGirl reader have long voluminous ginger curly hair? Similar to how Greek Girls in renaissance paintings have? Idk it's just super cute for me.

Anyways, take care and keep doing what your doing 🫶🫶🫶

hello my beautiful anon! i really loved this idea, i incorporated most of what you said, minus the ginger hair (mainly because i want the reader to remain ambiguous)! however, i hope you like it, as i liked it very very much!

# definition of love — jason todd

synopsis — jason is found dead shortly after you began dating. it hit you like a train, and after a few years, you figured you had moved on. guess you’re proven wrong when you spot a figure who looks just like your boy.

warnings — nothing much, a timeline of events kind of, reader is diana’s daughter and sidekick. angst with a happy ending, reader literally having a mental breakdown twice, typical gf losing bf situation maybe a bit worse, reader has some amazonian features, reader's wondergirl suit is like diana's only the colors are like swapped so the top half is blue instead of red and the skirt is red, but the gold remains the same, as does the headband. this was proofread, but i probably overlooked a spelling mistake like always. i don't think there’s anything else

please please please reblog and like 🤍

© elixirina — all rights reserved. my work is never to be reposted, translated, modified, etc, even if i am credited.

seredipity (n.) finding something good without looking for it.

being wondergirl was like a dream come true. you couldn't lie that there were times you wanted to bash your head into a rock because of how stressful it was, but it gave you an excuse to spend time with your mother 24/7.

you were only 13, but your mother had started training you young. she claimed it was for your own protection, but you weren't necessarily sure that was the reason. nevertheless, you obliged and to be honest, it was fun.

getting to spend time with your mother and fight crime? hell yeah! plus, that meant you got to meet the justice league. the idea of it had always flown over your head, but when your mother finally came to you with the idea, you beamed.

luckily for you, that day had arrived as quickly as you had hoped. you were nervous to the point where you were shaking. you had met the young justice before and they were the nicest people you'd ever interacted with, given how close they were to your age. yet, this, this was different.

it seemed way more professional than when you met the young justice.

you stood beside your mother, as she showed you around the justice league headquarters. natural light streamed in through large, arched skylights and tall windows. the sun blared in your face, and it made you feel warm.

could this go any faster?

jason walked in beside bruce in his robin suit. he figured he looked stupid, but he always did when he put on the suit. when bruce had brought up the idea of meeting the justice league, he expected a much cooler headquarters. the hall of justice looked so...bland.

the walls were shade of cream, and a massive, glowing emblem of a shield stood in the main hall. the pair walked on the white marble floor.

in jason's eyes, he looked like a big ball of color surrounded by white. the boy had completely zoned out as bruce walked him through the establishment, talking and talking away.

he had completely forgot where he was when he spotted your flowing hair. he watched as you methodically fiddled with your red skirt. the blue and white on your bodice matched the skirt of the woman next to you. a woman he'd only assumed to be wonder woman.

bruce, unbeknownst to jason's staring, had led the latter over you and your mother, with plans of introducing you and jason.

your mother took notice of bruce's presence quickly, stopping her conversation with you. you watched as the two adults greeted each other with a smile.

bruce averted his gaze to you, looking down at your figure. "you must be y/n. i'm bruce. diana speaks highly of you." his words made your cheeks go warm and you smiled sheepishly.

"i would hope so." you rubbed your bare bicep, your nervousness coming back to you.

the man let out a chuckle, before turning over to the boy next to him. the boy you hadn't even noticed until now. and the minute you did, you felt everything stop. it felt weird, this had never happened before. whenever you met new people your age, you smiled and said hi, but you couldn't bring yourself to do any of that.

his presence hit you like the first bloom of spring after a long, harsh winter.

"this is my son, jason." bruce simply said, and jason's eyes widened, mainly because bruce called him his son, but also because this meant he had to say hi to you and he didn't even know if he could still speak.

you shook off everything you felt and gave the boy in front of you a smile. the three primary colors on his suit and the contrast between his and bruce's almost made you giggle.

the air seemed charged with something electric; tangible yet invisible. you gave him a wave which he very quickly returned. he quickly looked down at the marble floor and you watched him.

you couldn't stop thinking about that the entire day. and to be honest, it made you less nervous about meeting the justice league members. they were incredibly nice, but you just couldn't keep your eye off of jason.

you sure hoped you'd see boy wonder again.

best friend (n.) someone who will stand up for you in the times you need it most. keep your secrets close, and someone you trust with your life.

you were now 14. maybe you had a little crush on jason, but nevertheless, he was your best friend, so that didn't matter to you. what mattered was that you were with him, and he was with you; you sure as hell did not want to lose him.

the two of you sat on a rooftop, your feet dangling in the air. your gold headband held your hair back to the best of its ability as the warm summer wind began to pick up. the sun had set, making the sky a beautiful dark blue and the clock was nearing twelve.

you and jason had always spent your time on this rooftop. it gave you a perfect view of gotham and it was a perfect place for the two of you to escape your parents.

you got lost in conversation on this day, like always. hearing his laugh sent a shiver down your spine like always. you could never get used to it; it was like music to your ears.

in all those moments you'd spent on that rooftop, time slowed, stretching into something so ethereal. it made it so memorable.

talking to him was just so easy, one of the reasons you became friends. he just understood and so did you. he was like a piece of your puzzle you didn't know you were missing. and you loved it. you loved-

"if stars could talk, what do you think they'd say about us?" jason broke the short silence between the two of you. the random question made you chuckle.

you turned your head to face him with a smile, "what?" you tilt your head and jason swears it might just be the cutest thing he's ever seen.

jason grins like a cheshire cat, "i mean like, do you think they laugh at our problems and shit?" he always loved conversations like this. he only ever said stupid stuff to see you smile. every time you smiled, it felt like his heart was blossoming flowers.

"language. and you are so weird." you laughed, your hands gripped the concrete edge of the roof top.

"i am not weird. i just have a big imagination." he quickly defended, throwing his right hand in the air. his left hand, which sat on the concrete edge was lingering closer to your hand; none of you noticed.

you let out a snicker before sitting in a comfortable silence, staring at the sky. only a few stars were visible in the sky, mainly due to the amount of light.

you looked down at your left wrist subtly, a gold watch around it. it was a watch your mother had given you for your 12th birthday. you couldn't recall why you rarely ever took it off, but you were grateful you had it at that moment.

you averted your gaze to the boy next to you who was looking down at his lap with a smile on his face.

"happy birthday, jace."

he looked over, the wind blowing a strand of hair in his face. his eyebrows furrowed for a second before he realized it must've been the next day.

you smiled at him, laying your head on his shoulder. he couldn't keep his gaze off of you, and most of all, he couldn't believe you remembered.

god, he loved this.

lover (n.) 1. a person who is in love with another. 2. a person who has a strong enjoyment or liking for something. 3. a person who loves, especially a person who has or shows a warm and general affectionate regard for others.

"ow. ow. ow." the word became a mantra, a rhythmic complaint that escaped your lips as you lay sprawled on jason’s bed in the manor. the sharp sting in your thigh was unrelenting, a painful reminder of your ill-fated encounter with a kitchen knife and a tray of horribly cut brownies.

the room smelled strongly of antiseptic from the first aid kit jason had torn into moments earlier, the tangy scent mingling with the woodsy warmth of his cologne. that was one smell you could never forget. a crimson gash marred your right thigh, the jagged line oozing blood in slow paths that tickled even as they burned.

jason sat beside you, his expression torn between concern and mild exasperation as he worked quickly to stop the bleeding. the soft rustle of gauze and the metallic clink of scissors filled the otherwise quiet room, broken only by your repeated "ow"s and his hushed apologies.

"sorry, sorry," jason muttered, his voice low and sincere, though his hands remained steady. his jaw clenched as he pressed a clean cloth against your skin, the pressure sharp enough to make you wince.

"remind me to never put you in a kitchen again," he quipped, glancing up briefly with the hint of a smirk.

you rolled your eyes, propping yourself up on your elbows despite the dull ache spreading through your leg. "it was an accident," you retorted, a touch defensive. "i am perfectly capable of knifework."

he raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching as if to suppress a laugh. "yeah, sure. because slicing your own leg is totally a pro move."

"very funny," you deadpanned, though your lips quirked in a reluctant smile. okay, maybe you weren’t the most graceful person when it came to handling sharp objects. blades weren’t exactly in your forte, and your mom was usually the one wielding kitchen utensils with precision.

jason snickered, the sound soft and melodic but undeniably amused, as he leaned closer to inspect the wound. his focus was intense, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his dark lashes framed his eyes or the small scar that laid on his jawline.

the bandaging took longer than it should have—partly because he was extremely meticulous, and partly because he kept stealing glances at you, his gaze lingering a second too long. his fingers brushed against your skin, the contact feather-light yet electric, sending a shiver up your spine.

he tied the bandage in place with a precise knot, tapping your thigh gently to signal he was done. the touch was brief but warm, leaving a faint heat in its wake.

"there," he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "all better."

"thanks," you mumbled, sitting up fully and letting your weight settle into the mattress. your hand rested on top of your freshly bandaged thigh, as if testing the sturdiness of his work.

jason scooted closer, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. his presence felt larger than life, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned in, a quiet tension settling between you. you could feel the air shift—charged, unspoken—but neither of you moved to break it.

he tilted his head, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips before snapping back to your face. "so… do i need to keep you on knife probation, or are you gonna behave?"

you rolled your eyes again, though your smile this time was genuine. "depends. are you volunteering to cook for me forever?"

his laugh was soft, a little breathless. "if it means you don’t bleed all over my bed again? sure."

despite jason’s earlier declaration, the two of you found yourselves in the manor’s sprawling kitchen. you’d insisted on redeeming yourself, though he stood watch like a hawk, his arms crossed and an amused grin tugging at his lips.

“alright prince,” he teased, leaning against the counter. “show me what you’ve got. just… keep the knives far, far away.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, grabbing a whisk with exaggerated confidence. “watch and learn, todd.”

the two of you fell into a rhythm, the kitchen filling with the comforting clatter of bowls and utensils. jason couldn’t resist stepping in every now and then, fixing your grip on a spatula or adding a pinch of seasoning to your mixture.

“bossy much?” you quipped as he reached around you to adjust the temperature on the oven

“Just trying to save b’s kitchen from a second massacre,” he shot back, though his tone was light.

at some point, the two of you devolved into playful chaos. A light dusting of flour ended up on jason’s shirt—your doing, of course. he retaliated with a swipe of chocolate from the batter bowl, smearing it on your cheek with a triumphant grin.

“truce!” you laughed, holding your hands up in surrender.

jason smirked, stepping closer. his eyes softened as he reached out with a damp cloth, gently wiping away the smear. “you’re a mess,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

your breath caught as his hand lingered near your face. the playful energy between you shifted, the air thickening with something unspoken. his thumb brushed your cheek, the touch feather-light, but enough to send a jolt through you.

“jason,” you whispered, his name barely audible.

he hesitated for only a moment before leaning in, his forehead grazing yours as his eyes searched your face. “i’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he admitted, his voice barely above a breath.

then, without another word, his lips found yours. the kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though testing the waters. but it didn’t take long for it to deepen, his hand cupping your jaw while the other found its place at your waist.

the world around you seemed to melt away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.

when you finally pulled apart, his eyes sparkled with a mix of relief and mischief. “you know,” he said, his lips quirking into a smirk, “you’re even worse at baking than I thought.”

you laughed, your forehead resting against his. “we just made out and the first thing you do afterwards is insult me?”

“i wouldn’t call it an insult, just a mere fact.” he replied, brushing a stray hair from your face.

you shook your head, closing the distance between your lips once more.

grief (n.) deep sorrow, especially caused by someone’s death.

jason was missing. at least, that’s what it seemed like. the last time you saw him was two days ago. to say you were worried would be an understatement.

you’d even gone to the manor, desperate to find him, but neither he nor bruce were there. alfred, usually a source of calm and clarity, had only said, “i’m afraid i can’t explain,” before retreating into the quiet dignity he always carried. those words lingered in your mind, growing heavier with each repetition.

now, two days had passed. two painfully slow, gut-wrenching days where time seemed to drag its feet. sleep had become an impossibility, your bed feeling cold and empty. food felt like an afterthought—how could you eat when every thought spiraled back to jason? was he hurt? was he in trouble? was he…?

you didn’t dare finish that thought.

sitting at the kitchen island, you tapped your fingers against the cool marble countertop in a restless rhythm. the sound filled the silence of the house, a constant reminder of your unease. diana stood across from you, pouring hot chocolate into two mugs, her presence steady yet unable to dispel the dark cloud hanging over you.

she glanced up, her eyes soft with understanding. “it’ll be okay,” she said, though her voice wavered ever so slightly.

you didn’t respond, your gaze fixed on the swirls of the marble as though the patterns might hold the answers you so desperately needed.

when diana moved to the refrigerator for the whipped cream, a soft knock echoed through the house. it was almost hesitant, as though the person on the other side knew the weight of what they carried.

your head snapped up, and diana caught your movement, raising a hand. “i’ll get it,” she said gently.

you watched as she walked to the entrance hall, her back straight but her steps slower than usual, as if she sensed what was coming. she opened the door, and the chill of the evening air rushed in, making the hairs on your arms rise.

there stood bruce, dressed sharply in a suit and tie, his presence commanding as always. but tonight, his usual stoicism was cracked, a melancholic look etched into his face.

diana froze, her hand still gripping the door. “bruce?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. “what’s wrong?”

he didn’t answer right away. his jaw clenched, and he bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes avoiding hers. for a man who had faced countless battles and tragedies, this moment seemed to unravel him. his silence spoke volumes.

diana swallowed hard, her grip on the door tightening. she didn’t press him, though every second of quiet stretched unbearably. finally, bruce exhaled shakily, breaking the silence.

“jason is dead.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and final.

diana’s breath hitched audibly, and she let out a small gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. she reached out, pulling bruce into a hug. he stiffened at first, his shoulders rigid under the weight of his grief, but then he let himself lean into her, if only for a moment.

when she pulled back, her hands lingered on his arms. “what am i going to tell y/n?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

bruce didn’t answer, his gaze dropping to the ground.

how does one tell their daughter her boyfriend is dead?

how does one tell their son's girlfriend he's dead?

your voice cut through the air, startling them both. you stood a few feet behind diana, your brow furrowed with confusion. the cold wind from the open door brushed past you, sending a shiver down your spine.

bruce turned to look at you, and for a moment, the man who was always so unshakable seemed small. his lips parted, but no sound came.

“bruce!” you said, your voice rising slightly as panic crept in. “is… is jason here?” you tilted your head, your fingers fidgeting against your palm.

the way his jaw tightened, the way diana avoided your gaze—it was enough to send your heart racing.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, forcing a shaky laugh. “why are you both looking at me like that?”

diana finally raised her head, tears brimming in her eyes. she stepped closer to you, her movements slow and deliberate.

“mom?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

she reached out, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. her touch was warm, grounding, but the look in her eyes made your stomach twist.

“he’s gone,” she said softly, her voice cracking. “jason’s dead.”

the world seemed to tilt, the weight of her words crashing into you like a tidal wave. for a moment, everything blurred—the sound of the wind, the warmth of her hand, even the beating of your own heart.

“no,” you whispered, shaking your head. “no, he’s not.”

"y/n.." diana began.

you backed away, letting her hand fall awkwardly. "no. no. you're lying," you looked over at bruce who was staring at the ground with such remorse. "you're lying, right?"

his silence was enough to make you sob.

after that day, nothing was the same. the world felt muted, like someone had dialed down the color and sound until everything was a dull, lifeless gray. days and nights blurred together, each one dragging on endlessly but offering no relief.

sleep was an elusive stranger. you spent most nights tossing and turning, tangling yourself in the sheets in a futile attempt to find a position where the ache in your chest didn’t feel so unbearable. when you did manage to drift off, it never lasted long.

the nightmares always came—flashes of his face, his laugh, his touch, and then, nothing. you’d wake up gasping, tears already streaming down your cheeks before you were fully conscious. the pillow beneath you was damp most mornings, a stark reminder of the storm you couldn’t escape.

the days weren’t any easier. you locked yourself in your room, the blinds drawn tight to keep the light out. sunlight felt wrong, almost offensive. how could the sun rise and set when your world had stopped?

your phone buzzed occasionally with concerned texts from dick and artemis, but the effort it took to type a single reply felt monumental. ‘okay.’ that was all you could manage, even though it was far from the truth.

your chest felt hollow, as though someone had reached inside and carved out every piece of you that mattered, leaving behind only a raw, jagged void. every breath was a battle—a sharp, painful reminder that you were still here, and he wasn’t.

the leather jacket he left at your house hung in your closet, untouched except for that one night when the grief was too heavy to bear. you’d pulled it down, burying your face in the worn material, desperately searching for the scent of him, the smallest piece of him that you could still hold onto.

at first, the faint smell of his cologne brought a flicker of comfort, but it was fleeting. the memories came rushing in, one after another, relentless and unforgiving. you crumpled to the floor, clutching the jacket to your chest as sobs wracked your body.

even now, the jacket remained where you’d left it—folded on the floor, too painful to look at yet impossible to put away. It was a symbol of him, of everything you’d lost, and it seemed to radiate its own grief, mirroring yours.

the hours crept by, each one heavier than the last. you existed in a haze of sorrow, your body moving through the motions of life while your mind remained stuck in the past, replaying moments with him like a scratched record. every laugh, every glance, every touch—they were all there, vivid and cruel reminders of what you’d never have again.

a year went by. then two. hen three. the grief hadn’t left, not really—it had just learned to settle in the cracks of your soul. you’d found ways to cope, ways to live. for the most part, anyway. the ache was still there, but it no longer kept you locked inside your house, staring at the ceiling, waiting for answers that would never come.

you started spending a lot of more time with dick. he had been a quiet but steady presence in the aftermath, his support unspoken yet deeply felt. he never pushed you to talk, but he always seemed to know when you needed someone to sit with you in the silence. with him, the weight felt a little lighter, the memories a little less suffocating.

about a year after jason's death, you’d met tim. the new robin. It had been a shock at first—seeing someone else in that uniform, someone who wasn’t him. but tim was different. he wasn’t trying to fill jason’s shoes; he was carving his own path, and over time, you grew close to him. he became another thread in the fragile net that kept you grounded, kept you moving forward.

life continued, in its strange, fractured way. then, one afternoon, everything shifted.

you had decided to take a walk downtown—a simple attempt to clear your head. the streets were bustling, the noise of cars and chatter filling the air. you ducked into a quiet bookstore for a while, thumbing through a few titles before stepping back out onto the pavement. you hadn't been in this particular bookstore in years. the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the city.

and that’s when you saw him.

at first, it was just a figure in the crowd. but something about the way he moved caught your eye. the familiar stride. the way his head turned slightly as though he’d caught someone’s attention. your breath hitched in your throat, your heart thudding painfully in your chest.

it couldn’t be. it couldn’t be.

but it looked so much like him. too much like him.

you froze on the spot, your body rooted to the ground as the figure walked away, blending into the crowd. you wanted to move, to call out, but your legs wouldn’t listen. your hands trembled as they clutched your bag, and your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes.

you stumbled back into the nearest alley, your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. leaning against the cold brick wall, you tried to steady yourself, but the world was spinning. you clenched your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms against them as though you could will the image away.

it wasn’t him. it could not be him.

but the seed of doubt had been planted, and it was growing, fast and wild, threatening to overtake your rationality.

by the time you made it home, you were shaking. the moment the door closed behind you; the dam broke. you collapsed onto the floor, the sobs tearing through you with a force that felt almost violent.

“jason,” you whispered, his name a prayer and a curse all at once.

the pain you’d worked so hard to manage came crashing back, sharper than ever. you cried until your throat was raw, until your body ached from the force of it. the walls of your apartment seemed to close in on you, suffocating and unforgiving. you didn’t care.

the image of the figure haunted you, replaying in your mind over and over. you wanted to believe it was him. you wanted to believe that somehow, against all odds, he was alive. but you couldn’t let yourself hope. hope was dangerous.

two days passed before you felt steady enough to leave the house. dick had invited you to the manor for dinner, saying bruce wanted to discuss something. you agreed reluctantly, still shaken from what you’d seen, but knowing you couldn’t keep isolating yourself.

seated in the dining room, you looked between bruce and dick, their expressions unusually grim.

“why do I feel like this isn’t just dinner?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

bruce sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “we’ve been tracking a new vigilante in gotham,” he said finally. “calls himself the red hood.”

the name sent a chill down your spine, but you kept your expression neutral. “and?”

dick hesitated, glancing at bruce before speaking. “he’s... unconventional. brutal. we’ve crossed paths with him a few times now, and his methods are extreme.”

“extreme how?” you pressed, your stomach knotting with unease.

“he’s not afraid to kill,” bruce said flatly. “he goes after criminals with precision and rage. he knows things about us, about gotham, that no one outside the family should know.”

the knot in your stomach tightened. “what are you trying to say?”

dick leaned forward, his voice softer now. “we think he might have a connection to jason.”

your breath hitched, and you gripped the armrest of the chair. “what kind of connection?”

bruce’s jaw tightened. “we don’t know yet. but his tactics, his targets... there are too many similarities to ignore.”

the room fell silent as you processed their words. the figure in the crowd flashed in your mind again. could it really be him?

but no, it couldn’t. jason was gone.

and yet, for the first time in three years, the possibility lingered.

love (n.) an intense emotion of affection, warmth, fondness, and regard towards a person or thing.

you couldn't bring yourself to stop thinking about that day in the bookstore and the dinner at the manor. it hit you like a train. you had truly thought you were over it.

you believed that no reminder of him was going to make you break down ever again. that melancholy and remorse? you thought it was gone. why did it have to be back?

why couldn't you be normal about it? what made this so damn difficult?

of course, you still loved him. you would never stop. you knew that for a fact. but no one told you that grief was so hard.

it felt suffocating. the weight on your shoulders came back and suddenly, you weren't so grounded anymore. god, you wanted to believe he was alive. just to make everything easier. you just wanted the cure to all of this.

your mother noticed something was off when she came to visit you, but you immediately turned her comfort down, saying it was just stress.

she knew that wasn't the case.

nevertheless, she left you alone and later that night, you found yourself in your suit on that very rooftop you and jason loved so much.

your feet dangled off of the concrete edge, staring into the night sky. the sky above was an inky black, its darkness punctuated by a few stubborn stars that managed to shine through the haze of city lights. the hum of the city rose faintly from below, but up here, it felt like the world had paused, leaving only you and the endless night.

from the rooftop, the city stretched out in every direction, its neon signs and glowing windows casting a faint orange haze over the horizon. above it all, the moon hung pale and solitary, its light soft and distant, as though reluctant to reach the ground.

it reminded you so much of him. the ability to talk to him and never know when to stop. he never failed to make you smile or laugh. god, you missed his laugh. you missed his smile and you longed for his smell.

you closed your eyes, and his face came to you, unbidden. his crooked smile, the one that always made your heart skip a beat. the way he used to look at you, like you were the only person in the world that mattered. god, you missed him. you missed everything about him.

he was so good to you, and he was gone.

your chest tightened, the hollow ache inside you growing unbearable. you leaned forward slightly, your arms wrapping around yourself as though you could hold yourself together. the rooftop had always been your sanctuary, but tonight, it felt like a prison.

you leaned back just in time to hear a rather modulated voice come from behind you.

"i thought you would've stopped coming here."

you jumped at the voice, immediately standing up. you gripped onto your lasso which laid attached to your red skirt. the rooftop was dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights below. shadows stretched across the concrete, and the figure in front of you emerged from one of them like something out of a nightmare.

fortunately, the red helmet that covered his head gave it away and ultimately, you knew who you were facing. red hood.

"what do you want?" you simply questioned, straightening your back.

he made an effort to step towards you but stopped when you put your hand up as a way to stop him. he sighed, though it was barely audible. "i'm not gonna hurt you. i would ne-" he cut himself off, looking down at the ground.

you raised your eyebrows, letting your hand make its way back to your side. your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as your eyes locked onto the tall figure before you. you eyed him up and down.

he left no room for questioning when you heard a clank. you looked down at the ground and say that same red helmet that was just on his head, lying on the ground.

you looked up at him and your shoulders slumped. the grip on your lasso loosened and your breath hitched.

oh god, were you dreaming? surely, this couldn't be real.

standing before you was jason todd. your jason. your boy. he had certainly grown, standing at a little over 6'0, 6'1? you could see how toned he was through his suit. his hair was longer than before, and there were faint scars on his still beautiful face.

"baby..." he uttered out, biting the inside of his cheek.

how does one tell their girlfriend that they came back from the dead?

you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around him. you needed to touch him, to feel him. this was your chance. this was the cure. you felt him stiffen a bit under you before completely melting into your touch, wrapping his arms around you securely. it almost felt like he was scared to let you.

"i thought i-" your voice broke as you pulled your head back a bit to look at him. "i missed you, jace." the way his name rolled off your tongue so easily sent a chill down his spine. he missed this. he missed you.

his throat tightened as he looked down at you, guilt and regret written across his face. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but it filled your ears like a soft melody. you had missed hearing it—hearing him. just hearing him speak to you like this, like he still cared, made everything else feel less heavy.

you tilted your head, your eyebrows furrowed with confusion. god, he missed that. "why?"

he swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving your face. “i didn’t look for you first. i should’ve. and then… i did things. horrible things. i mean, i killed people, y/n. so many people. and i—i don’t expect you to forgive me. i don’t even know if you can.” he paused, running a shaky hand through his hair. “but, but i can change. for you, i can. i just wanted you to know that. i… i just wanted to tell you that i’m still me. i’m still your jason.”

"then, that's all that matters." you stated, placing a hand on his cheek. it felt so much better to touch him. "i can't leave you. not when i just got you back." you sniffled.

you smiled for the first time, and he felt himself turn into jelly. he missed you and he missed that damn smile.

a shaky breath escaped him as his hands cupped your face, his thumb tracing your cheek softly. “fuck, i don’t deserve you,” he said hoarsely.

you shook your head, smiling through the tears that were now falling freely down your face. “you don’t have to deserve me, jason,” you whispered. “you already have me. also, language.”

he shook his head as he pulled you in close, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss, as though afraid to push too far. but you kissed him back with all the love and longing you had kept hidden for so long. when you pulled away, both of you breathless, jason rested his forehead against yours.

“i always thought you looked good in red. i could get used to this.” you remarked, referring to the red helmet that was still laying on the red.

he smiled softly, placing a hand on the fabric of your crimson skirt. “got it from you.”

god, you loved this man.

[thevoidstaredback]

The plan was set and the game had begun.

There was a meeting on the Watchtower exactly three days after the Bat Clan had decided to mess with the Justice League, so that's when they planned to set everything in motion.

Robin couldn't be at the meeting because it fell during school hours, so Nightwing had come to the meeting with Batman. He'd already had the day off, so it wasn't too much of a hasel. Red Hood and Red Robin had both wanted to come, but they also had civilian duties to take care of.

When the meeting was over, the 'main leaguers', as many others had dubbed them, stayed behind as they always did. Normally, it was just so they all could catch up, sometimes to arrange another meeting, or even to discuss more sensitive topics.

This time, when everyone but Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Arrow, Green Lantern, The Flash, Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, Cyborg, and Nightwing had left the room, Nightwing threw his arm across Batman's shoulders and said "You all should come to the Cave!"

All conversation stopped as everyone turned to look at the black and blue clad vigilante. For a long moment, no one spoke or moved. Then, Batman nodded.

"Perfect!" Nightwing's smile got even bigger.

"Um," Superman, the sweet midwesterner, flicked his eyes over to Batman's face before looking at Nightwing. "Are you sure? Bat's has never let any of us into Gotham, let alone the Bat Cave."

Nightwing winked at the hero, his domino mask not hiding it, "Yeah, well, me and the others managed to wear him down. Besides, we've all wanted to give you guys a tour! We've been to all your secret hideouts, so we figured it's about time you saw ours!"

"I'm sorry," Green Lantern raised his hand slightly, "'Others'?"

Nightwing blinked, his smile dropping. Batman straightened up. "Did you-" Nightwing cut himself off, "You do know how many of us there are in Gotham, right?"

The heroes all looked at one another. Sure, they'd heard that there was two, maybe three, working with Batman, but nothing had ever been confirmed aside from Robin working with Batman and Nightwing working in Bludhaven.

Batman fought very hard to keep a smirk off his face. Nightwing didn't even try to hide his amusement.

Wonder Woman was the one to ask, "There are rumors, but I can't say any of us know exactly how many heroes work within Gotham City limits."

Nightwing and Batman shared a glance. This added so much more to their game. They had to tell the others! This was already so much fun, but it was about to get so much better!

"Then, I guess you all have no choice but to come to the Cave with us so you can meet everyone!" Nightwing exclaimed.

The eight heroes shared looks with one another before looking back at Batman and Nightwing. Their choice was obvious to the two Bats before the group had even decided.

"Alright," Aquaman said, "When would you like us to stop by?"

Right on script. Batman said, "Meet here tomorrow at fifteen-hundred New Jersey time. We'll be here to bring you down to the Cave." Then, he left, Nightwing trailing behind him.

"Cool," Flash nodded, "Cool, cool. Totally not nerve wracking at all."

Cyborg stood from his seat. "Don't be nervous, Flash. We're actually being allowed in Gotham. Batman doesn't let anyone in Gotham."

"No," Green Arrow said, "He doesn't let anyone operate in Gotham. I've been many times."

"As Green Arrow or as a civilian?"

He fell silent and the others all laughed. He joined them.

"Regardless," Martian Manhunter said, "I think it's good he's allowing us to see his main base of operations."

"Yeah," agreed Superman, "I wonder what it'll be like."

Wonder Woman was the next to stand from her seat. "It will be quite the tour, I'm sure."

Part 2 Part 4

[shit-talker]

The only way I can rationalise people accepting literal children going out and fighting crime as Robin is if they don't think Robin is a real child.

I think it would be fun to see how Bruce would use that to his advantage in protecting his kids. Like, if people think Robin isn't human, if they instead think he's a spirit or a ghost, they are less likely to shoot at him, less likely to try and physically attack Robin because they think it would be no use.

The fun part would be deciding HOW they would do this. I like to think that Robin's domino mask doesn't have a hole for his eyes but instead is glazed over so that he can see out of it, but you can't see in. Maybe they install small lights in it so it looks like his eyes glow in the dark, because can you image how fucking scary it would be to just see these two sentient light-like eyes and just know the Batman must be lurking somewhere close by?

Maybe Bruce installs super strong magnets in their gloves because on the chance that someone does pull a gun on his kid close range, it would be a lot easier for them to grab the gun away if they had the force of magnetism on their side. Also, grabbing onto poles and other metal materials would make all the scaling on tall buildings a little safer. Obviously, they'd need a way to turn it on and off, but still. Can you imagine, you're in a warehouse and there are steel frames fucking everywhere and you look up and suddenly there's a child gripping onto one effortlessly? Horrifying.

Maybe they have a voice box. Want to scare people? Play this really ominous recording of a child's laughter that echoes just a bit too loud to be normal. Play this ominous screaming that seems too silent to be real. Play this ticking that seems to never end that induces stress and increases the chance of them messing up.

What would be even funnier is keeping this act up with the Justice League and other teams.

Batman doesn't bring Robin to these meetings at the beginning because he sees no need to involve a preteen in such matters, but at some point the subject does come up and it's sort of like; So, Bats, what exactly is the kid? Like...is he yours?

And Bruce (paranoid as fuck) doesn't want to admit to these people that yes, Robin is my son because hello? That's gotta be his biggest weakness, he would do anything to keep that kid safe and fuck them if they ever tried to hurt him to get to Bruce.

So, he tells them that he's a spirit sent to haunt him and remind the city of it'd failures and the Justice League just... believe him?? Because this is Batman, and why would Batman ever lie about something so, frankly, strange? And it's not a huge deal, like they're a team comprised of metas and aliens and literal godesses, so what if the one normal human guy has a weird little ghost child? Who cares if he cares about it like it's a real boy? Maybe the baby spirit has rights, too!! They don't know!

So, when the JLA gets more popular and becomes an actual, legal part of the American government, they're required to list all of their members. And they class Batman as a human, because that's obvious but next to Robin, they don't really know what to say or how to ask Batman about it, ao they just put "Unknown Child Spirit - TBD"

And then just... never change it?

So, they don't question why a few years later Robin seems to look entirely different, or why after that he changes again, or why Robin is suddenly a girl for a while before going back to a little boy. That's obviously just some weird spirit thing they don't understand, and it's not like Batman is going to explain it!

[eggfriedricedwasian]

Give me psychopathic killer Tim Drake in which Gotham and several other super hero infested cities all gain a new serial killer they have dubbed as "Smiler".

Why? Simple, when the killer leaves the crime scene, the body is totally and entirely mutilated, skin grafts made and missing, organs and bones missing here and there and it's no specifically chosen ones either, the rest of the organs and bones are strung up in the place of murder. But the reason for the name Smiler is because the head is decapitated and left in perfect condition other than a smile cut along the face in a Joker-Jeff-The-Killer-esque way that leaves even the unscared scared.

Why would Tim do this? For fun. He's very morally gray, kids are where he cuts the line, but everyone else for no reason at all? It's fun to him. So maybe he was hit a few times in the head too many with electrocution(This can be from regular crime fighting or Joker Jr or League of Assassins you decide), he finds it fun to do all of this methodically and leave people in shambles trying to figure it out.

But how is he able to do this? He, without anyone's knowledge and for fun, got a Ph.D and Doctorates in med school to be a licensed surgeon and what not. He still regularly performs surgery, he works as a surgeon 4 days of the week and no one knows because they think he's working at WE but really it's basically all Tam, he's just there to be the face and to provide good info. He's already reformed the board so he can do whatever.

Would the hero community ever find out? Up to you. Here's how I would picture them finding out;

Some girl gets cornered the bats, then starts rambling for whatever reason about them when they're trying to help her.

"If I want understanding I'd go to Batman.

If I want empathy I'd go to Nightwing.

If I wanted a presence I'd go to Robin.

If I wanted emotional stability I'd go to Red Hood.

If I wanted support I'd go to Spoiler.

If I wanted the truth I'd go to Black Bat.

But if I wanted someone murdered, I'd go to Red Robin."

And the pieces don't make sense, because who is this woman and how does she know or why does she think Red Robin, Batman's literal in-every sense-but-blood mini-me, is a murderer? He follows Batman's moral code like a god.

But then they start looking further into his life. As CEO, they find he's not working there often, only 3 days a week, specifically for meetings. They dig deeper and find that somewhere between now and his quest for Bruce he lost his spleen and got a Ph.D and Doctorates. When confronted he said it'd be good especially for on the field when there's no one to step in and help. Experience and trust in the field is a good thing, like Harley Quinn.

Knowing that, Bruce being paranoid starts learning a bit more about surgery, and then something brings up the Smiler killings. Bruce looks at the things about the Smiler's way of killing and compares it to a surgeon. The way of opening the body, removing skin, removing the organs, no inexperienced person without a surgical background would be able to do this. They would have destroyed the organs. Or at least damaged them in someway.

Bruce starts watching Tim closely, because the time he got the license in surgery is around the time the Smiler started killing.

It was inly confirmed when one slip up gave him away. A threat.

"I will surgically remove your organs and make it seem like an organ donation."

He said that to a Justice League member after getting into a dispute with them.

That started the questions. The first one was a trick question, it was supposed to only scare Tim into confessing. But Tim wasn't scared, he knew they didn't know and he knew this was a scare tactic, he knows interrogation. Yet he still confessed. He was happy to. Smiling like a psycho and everything.

"It started as a joke. Joke? Well, practice. A small time thug, a human sex trafficker. Red Hood was gonna kill him anyways, so I thought, "why not do it myself?", you know? I had the license, the experience, I needed more of the latter though. So I just started opening him up. Removing things little by little. It was fun. The decapitation and the smile was my little thing though. The missing organs, donated to science and to people who need them. So can you really say I'm doing something completely wrong?"

The detail Tim went into caused a few to lose their stomachs.

Tim, the psycho, was enjoying this.

(This could definitely play a part in Tim becomes Damian's Joker to his Batman. I saw a post about it somewhere.)

[rad-batson]

Batlantern Headcanons Because I Found My New Brainrot and I Cannot Contain Myself (Platonic or Romantic, You Decide <3)

Hal is the only one who gets away with calling Bruce nicknames. Oliver tried calling Bruce “Spooky” once. He still has nightmares.

Several long-winded missions combined with Hal’s couch-surfing escapades have resulted in Hal having his own official Wayne guest room.

Alfred has smacked Hal with a dish towel several times. Reasons include: trying to wash the dishes, using a mini vac that he brought from home, and spitting gum into the garbage without wrapping it in a tissue first.

Tim gave Hal all of their streaming passwords to piss Bruce off. Hal proceeded to make his own profiles because he fears nothing, so Bruce changed all of his profile names to “Parasite.” Since then, it’s turned into an all-out war of renaming Hal’s profile every time they’re using it.

Highlights so far have included Sugar Baby, Freeloader, Ring Pop, Green Abomination, Magical Girl, Noisemaker, The Better Side Piece, and This is Your Official Eviction Notice Hal. (Bruce still hasn’t changed the passwords.)

Hal: You need to let go of your fear, Bats. Let’s do a simple breathing exercise. Bruce: I am breathing. Hal: No, like calming breaths. Follow my lead, okay? In- no, not that fast. Maybe close your eyes first. In…and out-No. No. Are you having a panic attack? Do I need to call someone?

For one mission, a few other JL members had to go undercover as couples. Bruce and Hal were the spares and paired up out of necessity. To everyone’s surprise, however, they were the most convincing duo because they “bickered like an old married couple.”

Bruce: I’m growing soft, Clark. I’m weak now. Clark: You told Hal ‘Good job.’ What’s wrong with that? Bruce: It’s unprofessional! *in the other room* Hal: I think Batman just confessed his undying love to me.

They have each other’s coffee orders memorized and regularly prepare the other’s coffee for them out of habit when they’re together.

After a while, Hal stops playfully flirting with everyone and reserves it only for Bruce because he gives the best reactions.

At a ‘Thank You, Justice League’ party hosted by Bruce Wayne, Hal slips up and flirts with Bruce in his civvies, only for Brucie Wayne to flirt back without missing a beat.

Hal had to go cool down in the bathroom for a few minutes. He was not ready for that. (Bruce is so fucking smug too. He’s been waiting FOREVER to give Hal a taste of his own medicine.)

Hal, introducing Bruce to the Lantern Corp: This is my pet bat. Careful, he bites.

Bruce, introducing Hal to new JL members: This is my partner. He’s been in training for ten years.

During an important strategy meeting, Hal waves his hand around, and Bruce just sighs. “What now, Lantern?” “Your plan of attack has like four holes in it.” “Where?” Hal gestures to the areas and suggests different strategies, and suddenly Bruce is like Does anyone else think it’s hot in here?

He lies in bed that night contemplating every single life event that’s lead up to Hal Fucking Jordan turning him on with his impeccable battle strategy.

Barry: I think Batman’s mad at me. He didn’t even react when I told him about the great rescue mission from last week. Hal: What do you mean? He was smiling the whole time. Barry: His face didn’t move an inch. Hal: You didn’t notice the lip twitch?

Batman has blackmail material on every single Justice League member, but only Hal has blackmail material on Bruce and the guts to use it. (Hal knows Bruce gets pedicures for fun. And he gets little designs on his toes too.)

Arthur: So when did you and Green Lantern start….you know. Bruce: No, I do not. What did we start? Arthur: You know what?! I think I forgot to walk my fish. Bye!

*Barry sees Hal with a hickey while they’re drinking coffee* Barry, jokingly: Did Bruce give you that? Hal: Yes, actually. How’d you know? Barry, backing away frantically: Oh okay, cool! Okay okay. Cool. Cool cool cool. Okay. Bruce, entering: What’s with him? Hal: I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to like the mug you bought me, though.

The JL has a betting pool called “BatLantern FMK” where they bet on which will happen first: will they fuck, marry, or kill each other?

Only Clark, Diana, and J’onn know that one of them happened already

[help-itrappedmyself]

Summoning Game Show 3

Masterpost

I got so inspired and had so much fun writing for part 2 I just kept going. I have determined that this 'fic' should be about 7 parts long total. And here's Part 3, because I'm enjoying the nonsense of this so much.

~~~~~

“Congratulations on successfully finishing the first challenge! You can make your way back to the main room to receive your clue.”

The screen changes once Nightwing is on the stage with them. It now shows what looks like a wheel of fortune puzzle. Three words, four letters, four letters, and seven letters.

“For your clue, you can choose a letter for the puzzle!” Danny explains. “Since there are four of you we will give you four letters automatically, and you each have the chance to earn an extra letter. For the freebies! E, the most common vowel in English.”

“Looks like no E’s in this puzzle.” Danny shrugs at the boys with a grin on his face. “For the next three letters, we have the three most common consonants: T, N, and S!”

“Three letters up, two N’s and one T.” Danny turns away from the screen to face Nightwing. “What letter would you like to choose?” Dick turns to look at Red and Jason “This portion is not collaborative.” Danny cuts in with a small frown, making everyone look back at him. “You earned the letter, you choose the letter. They only get to pick a letter after they’ve earned one.”

Nightwing grimaces slightly. “A?” 

“A!” Danny turns back to the screen.

“One A!” Danny turns back. “The next challenge is a sword fight against Fright Knight! Who would like to sword fight?”

Damian very quickly raised his hand. Tim almost wanted to smack him, but as similar as a bo staff can be, and as much as he doesn’t want Damian in danger, Damian does have the most extensive sword training amongst them.

Danny takes Damian to pick out his sword. “I see that you have a sword already, but the fight is to first blood and you can’t harm Fright Knight with that sword, so that’s kind of unfair. We need to get you a weapon that will actually be able to hit your opponent.” They leave through a side door, but they leave it open so everyone can see all the weapon racks and Danny as he shows Damian around.

Tim leans towards Dick and Jason as Dick takes his seat in the middle chair. “Cool, so our weapons can’t actually hurt them, good to know. What exactly are we going to be asking the King at the end of this?”

“What do you mean?” Dick asks.

“I think he means that if we want to get back to our dimension we don’t want to piss off everyone here by wasting their time.” Jason spits out, sitting up and turning towards them. “They didn’t seem to take too kindly to that idea earlier.”

Dick winces and nods. “We could ask him to deal with the cult that brought us here.”

“What if he kills all of them?” 

“Well, you clearly have an idea Red, why don’t you tell us instead of making us guess.” Jason complains.

“Diplomatic relations.” Red states. “New dimension, new culture. We’re here to learn, maybe we could ask to set up a meeting between the King and Batman, or the Justice League.”

“The whole point of this is to get a meeting, what do you think he’s going to do if we use this meeting to ask for a different meeting?”

“Jason has a point. Maybe we could just ask to set up a way to communicate between us?” Dick suggests.

“I have obtained a sufficient weapon.” Damian calls out as he and Danny approach. Danny comes up onto the stage, heading back to the podium, but Damian doesn’t waste his time going back up and instead waits by the short stairs for further instructions. He is holding a katana, similar to the one he is used to, but with a different grip and that is glowing.

“So, since you’re using a semi unfamiliar weapon, Fright Knight is not going to be allowed to use his Soul Shredder, just to make it fair. And just in case he draws first blood, we don’t want to accidentally send anybody to their nightmare dimension!” Danny chirps out cheerfully. “You will be fighting in here, just stay on the main floor and away from bystanders. Fight will immediately end at first blood, no maiming, no killing, no excessive force. No use of powers is permitted.”

Danny gestures to where Fright Knight is exiting the armory with a regular looking broadsword. “This is Fright Knight.” Fright Knight waves as he comes over, stopping next to Damian so they’re both standing beneath the stage.

“Are you both ready?” The two swordsmen take a few steps away from each other and take positions before nodding. “Begin!”

[evilminji]

You know what's my JAM?

Extremes being treated as the Serious Dangers they ARE, even when they aren't "oooh its a spooky Grey morality and BADness!" Extreme.

Like? No, people. ALL of them are bad. They are ALL face melting dangerous. The void may crush your soul, but look upon the Face Of GOD? Not gonna be having a fun time! Doesn't MATTER if he's a cool dude! Face melting!

We are creatures of BALANCE. Tiny, fragile, little motes of dust. That can only exsist in the careful, blended, dances of territories and powers that be. We squishy.

Ghosts? Less squishy.

Poor impulse control, too. Especially ones with Fenton genetics. ABSOLUTELY ones with Fenton genetics and a trauma based aversion to therapy. That one? Pretty hardy. Made pretty tough, what with being Fates third favorite chew toy. But? Still gets the Sads, you know? The slightly longer then just seasonal depression.

Would medicine and some therapy help? Oh like a dream!

If medicine WORKED on his Ectoplasmicly contaminated ass. And he TRUSTED therapists.

But... surely, Danny thinks, as he sits grossly in his Depression sweatpants and eats suspect pizza on the floor of his moldering shoebox of an apartment, there must be SOME way to address his Depression? He should... he should DO something about it. Take a break maybe. Look up some ghost doctors or something.

.....

Oooooooooor..... >.>

He could break out that OMENIOUS af, bound in suspect leather, Big Book Of Forbidden Knowledge(TM) that he got from Pariah's.... what, fourth? Fifth? Library? Fuck that Lair is huge. He's STILL cleaning it out and it's been over half a decade. He swears it spawns more floors just to mock him. Bastard. Don't know HOW a building can be a Bastard, but it sure found A WAY.

Anyway!

Book it is! *horrifying Eldritch light as he opens it* huh. Neat. Comes with its own visual effects. *another bite of suspect pizza* Funky.

And so! Danny, the depressed King Of The Zone... fucks of to go cheer himself up in the Fields Of Bliss(TM), an area of Absolute Bliss. Which! Sounds GREAT in theory, now don't it? Lovely even.

Remember that little comment about extremes?

You can ENTER those fields. But no one leaves. No one CAN. The deeper you go? The more doomed you become. Less will to do anything at all. Eat, talk, move. So much as think. Like ALL extreme "Goods", it sounds lovely, but the reality is no gentle little thing.

It's a glue trap.

But how could Danny have known? Honestly, who would have TAUGHT him? Textbooks can only go so far, after all. And placing blame will not rescue the young monarch.

I imagine it's one of his helpers that pieces together what's happened. Come for further clarification on WHERE exactly he wants certain statues moved. Only? Your Majesty? Your Majesty...? Where ever could he BE? Oh? He's left out some of his books. Well, I'll just assist by putting them away for-.....

Oh.

OH ANCIENTS, NO.

But! What can the poor man DO? Ghosts are Beings of Will, Emotion, and Obsession. Were it some sort of Holy Blade or Sentient Tree, you know, something INDIVIDUAL with a will they could FIGHT? Oh no problem. But an area of effect? Especially an EMOTIONAL area of effect!? Ooooooh, this is bad. The Zone can't AFFORD to lose ANOTHER King!

We JUST GOT THIS ONE!!!

Wait. He's heard that there's an organization for this! That loudly cursing fellow who got violently thrown back into the Zone. "Ruined his fun" and all that! Perfect! He'll just hire THEM!

Smashcut? To a nice, peaceful, everybody's screaming Justice League Meeting. John's cursing life, extremely hungover. Zatana still has three cracked ribs. Wonder Woman is enjoying the new sword she... liberated... mid battle. Truely stunning craftsmanship. When?

Knock Knock!

Heads swivel. There... is a glowing green... accountant? Dandy? Dandy accountant. With an equally radioactive day glow green Actual Pirate's Chest Of Treasures, floating next to him. In the void of space; Just beyond the glass. What, the, fuuuuuu-

He seems to be under the impression they are some sort of Heroic mercenaries. And has come to request the retrieve-

"NNNNNOPE! Pariah can SHOVE it!" Snarls a suddenly very awake John Constantine, sitting up straight for the first time in hours. The rest of Dark grimly nod in agreement. Let the fucker rot. It's a kinder fate then he deserves.

No, no, NO! King PHANTOM! Pariah's SUCCESSOR by right of combat! They are not, and were never, allied in any way!

Well, all right then. Road trip to save a young idiot then.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

[noras-dc-shenanigans]

Adoption | Learn

“So let me get this straight.”

Danny stared at the group of vigilantes in front of him, a look of utter disbelief etched onto his face.

“Batman had a baby with Catwoman, she hid it from him, gave the baby up for adoption, and that baby is me. And you’re all here because Batman’s other ex also had a hidden pregnancy, but she’s a homicidal maniac who wants to make sure her son is the only blood child because of some weird cult rules?”

If they’d been in a cartoon, there’s be crickets chirping. He continued, voice growing less disbelieving and more angry as he went.

“And because some cult wants to kill me, I have to give up my whole life, cut off all contact with my family and friends, go live in a state 900 miles away, and stay cooped up— for an unknown amount of time— in Bruce Wayne’s mansion, because that’s who Batman really is.”

A stilted silence filled the room of the safe house Danny had been dragged to a few hours ago, sans the unnecessarily long explanation he’d just summarized.

After a few more moments, Nightwing stepped forward and smiled gently at him an oh, that rankled Danny. He did not need whatever kid gloves the guy was about to pull on. Before Bluebell had a chance to open his mouth, Danny channeled his inner Jazz and raised his hand for silence. Nightwing paused, and Danny proceeded to give them all a single, flat, unimpressed look, and then stated factually,

“I’m not leaving, I’m not staying with yet another frootloop billionaire, and I’m not in the least concerned with dying. So. You can all go back to where you belong, I’ll stay here, where I belong, and if any cultist come knocking I’ll deal with them just like I’ve been dealing with every other threat in this town the last six months: alone. Because apparently the entire Justice League is too busy to respond to calls for help about inter-dimensional threats popping in and out of my parents basement on a daily basis.”

… Okay, so Danny may have been yelling a bit by the end, but it was justified! And oh, Danny really wished his life was a cartoon right now, because that cricket chirping would be been perfect. He’s pretty sure he broke a few of them. Nightwing looked ready to cry.

Good. Danny was too tired to deal with this sh*t.

Thanks to the whole Pariah Dark thing last month, Danny was apparently immortal now anyways, so even if the cult people managed to completely destroy his body, he’d just reform in the Zone. Because he was now connected to it, and only another ghost could End him like he had Pariah, because of some weird dimensional rules. Apparently, since humans couldn’t rule the Infinite Realms, they just, like… didn’t qualify to kill him. That went for aliens, demons, gods, and other non-human beings of sentience.

So Danny’s got that going for him at least. About time something useful came outta this whole disaster of a school year.

But he’d gotten off track. Before him stood a truly ridiculous number of vigilantes, and they all looked like he’d just slapped them with a fish and then played violin with it. For a few minutes, Danny just basked in the stuttering and bewildered looks, before he noticed Nightwing drawing himself up in righteous determination and decided that yeah, he was done now.

At this point, being a dramatic a**hole to people (or ghosts) who were annoying him was just second nature, so he straightened to attention, raised his hand in a salute, and then let himself sink through the floor, perfectly stoic.

The stuttering turned to panicked shouts, and Danny’s last view of his apparent siblings was a few people lunging for him and missing, winding up tangled together on the carpet.

‘Ahhhh, yesss, I will treasure that memory always! Ah well, time to get home! Maybe I should scout out for those cult people, mess around with them. Maybe follow them back sometime, meet my half-brother. That could be fun, me and Ellie can make a road trip of it this summer! Maybe by then, the Justice Losers will have gotten their heads out as their butts.’

Meanwhile, back at the safe house, several frantic calls were being made about the dimensional threats and the League of Assassins and the possibly meta human, definitely vigilante brother.

Amity Park was about to get a lot more chaotic.