#that boy looks innocent but it's way funnier if he's not

[illhaveyouforbreakfast]

I like to think that Spencer hooked up with both Stephen Gideon and Sean Hotchner (and the first person to find out is Rossi)

[chuluoyi]

Baby gojo and daddy gojo not wanting to share mama gojo😭✋i-

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 06:20 P.M 」

aww this is so cute of course this is the first i worked on after getting back from my weekend break <3 and actually i have this one similar ask too so i combined yours with theirs! here's some cute blinking gojo in phantom parade and okay now let us have some crack and make gojo suffer

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

“bwah!” a nudge.

“myah!” a shove.

and then—

“waaa!” a… slap (?) on the cheek.

“huh?” satoru winced, touching where the baby’s palm just connected with his face, blinking rapidly. so he wasn’t imagining things. this really was happening in front of his eyes.

and it was the baby—his baby.

your giggles filled the air in response.

“hey, you,” satoru took on a very stern look and an exaggerated frown, glaring at his own son. the baby merely babbled at him innocently, blinking his wide crystal blue eyes that mirrored his. “bad, bad minion. this is a very serious issue. you shouldn’t do that, you hear?”

the serious issue being each time he tried to lean closer to steal a kiss from you, your son always found a way to repel him away with his tiny hands.

you snorted at his righteous tone. “he’s just protecting me. even your kid knows you’re a danger.”

a gasp left your husband’s shiny lips, mockingly in disbelief. “me? a danger? i make your life a heaven on earth!”

“heav—pfft—”

“i give you love, food, my body—” he emphasized, pointing at himself for a dramatic effect, and you threw your head back, dissolving into a fit of laughter even more, “—heck, i even give you this naughty baby!”

“wha—no! that’s team effort!”

“still! and now he is staging an uprising against me?” satoru cheekily eyed his child, who was now clutching the fabric of your blouse, tiny fingers playing with the shiny diamonds of your necklace—a gift from satoru too, actually.

“look at him go,” he grumbled, his eyes following each little movement his son made, then dramatically yelped when the boy pawed at your breasts. “hey! no touching! those are mine!”

“please.” you almost choked on your laugh. your silly husband always had a way to make things sound funnier than they actually were, and that was what made you fall in love with him more each day, really. “the milk is his!”

“he can have the cow’s! and more importantly, it’s thanks to me that you’re so milky—”

“satoru! you’re so uncouth i can’t—!”

“see? you’re laughing so much! this proves enough that i make you happy every day!”

later that night, after you put your baby to sleep in his crib, satoru gently poked his cheek, his expression tender despite his pursed lips. “he is out like a light…”

satoru might whine a lot, but ultimately, you couldn’t miss the look of adoration and fondness that made him the father of your child. even without saying it out loud, you knew that he would willingly put everything aside and sacrifice anything—first of all, himself—if it was meant for his dearest, most precious treasure.

knowing he'd do the same for you only served to melt your heart even more. and you felt full—so full, in fact, with warmth and love and anything that was soft.

you really do love him, don’t you?

“look at him, he’s like a shrimp,” your husband pointed out, still gazing at his baby in wonder as he kept poking and prodding at the chonky rolls of his little arms, and you thought, nothing could have been more precious than this.

“satoru.”

“yeah?” he turned instantly at the sound of his name, but before he could react further—

you stood on your tiptoes and planted a swift smooch on his cheek, putting the overflowing love you held for him in it. “mwah!”

“…?!”

for the next three seconds, satoru malfunctioned. the brush of your sweet lips on his cheek was so innocent that he was rendered speechless. heat steadily gathered on his face, turning him pink despite himself.

“you…” he groaned, collecting himself, a dopey smile was quickly plastered on his face to cover up his setback as you burst into hearty laughter. “now you’ve started it…” and then he latched on you with a glint of a joker, launching a full-blown tickle attack.

“a—ah! why?! satoru! ahahahaha!”

. . .

safe to say, your wheezes effectively awoke your son from his slumber, and as a bit of payback, you left satoru in the dust to deal with the crying baby, both of them whimpering in unison since he had absolutely no clue how to comfort the little one.

[quarterlifekitty]

Read buttermilk today and now @ceilidho got me on that babysitter grindset… but what if I freaked it up a little.

cw: age gap (reader is around 21 and Soap is like 29ish), something sorta flirting with/on the edge of fauxcest due to a sibling-like bond, so I’m gonna tag it as such just in case.

Before Johnny enlisted, he’d only ever had one paying job.

Taking care of you.

About eight years your senior, your mom decided to go back to working when you were around 4 and he was on the cusp of 13. And for 5 years (an eternity to a kid like you) he was your best friend in the world. Would get out of school, walk to the elementary school to get you, bring you home, and hang out until whenever your parents got off of work.

And the boy was devoted. Didn’t mind that he had to put off hanging with his friends till the weekend. Didn’t mind making your snacks or watching silly kids movies. Didn’t mind when you asked him to play pretend veterinarian with you, and he had to lay down and act like a really sick horse. And you loved him.

The first time your parents took you on a vacation and you realized he wouldn’t be there? You were so mad. As mad as a 4 year old can be.

You’re embarrassed when you cry at the news that he’s enlisting— at age 10 you’re not supposed to cry anymore, you’re a big girl. He hugs you so tight, early in the morning before he has to go.

His folks move during his first tour. There isn’t an anchor to bring him back to you for a very long time. Over a decade, as it turns out.

He’s getting ready to go on leave when he gets a call— his mum buzzing with some kind of gossip as usual.

“You’ll never guess who I saw down at Sainsbury’s—“

Your university happens to be in the town his family moved to. He has his own place now of course, but he likes to keep close to them.

His first night back and his mum is beside herself— trying to get the place nice, because you’re joining them for dinner. Johnny never even considers that when you come to the door, you’re not the little girl he left tearing up on her parents porch.

He has to remember to close his mouth at the sight of you. His dad offers you a beer for fuck’s sake. He’s amazed at how much has changed— but also, how much is the same. The curve of your nose, and bubble of your laughter, the way your eyes widen with interest.

You happen to be on break right now. So of course, he ends up unwittingly spending all of his leave with you. You were always a funny kid— you’re a lot funnier now that you can swear. And you were always cute but now you’re so… pretty.

And he is not a fucking fan of the kind of attention it gets you. The way guys look at you when you’re sitting alone, waiting for him at a coffee shop. How your phone goes off at least once every 20 minutes, and it’s almost always ‘this guy from your class’. He tells himself that it’s just because he was responsible for you for so long— that he’s just having trouble shaking that off. He just remembers when you were so innocent— he doesn’t wanna see you get chewed up and spit out by college boys.

And he keeps finding himself falling into old patterns. Making you stay still so he can wipe your mouth after having a bit of a messy danish. Holding your hand tight when you’re in a busy place, crossing any streets. Having you tell him what you want so he can order things for you. Picking you up so he can hear you giggle and tell him to put you down.

He tells himself that when he touches himself later that it’s just because being away for work has left him touch starved and sensitive. It’s only natural to get turned on by a pretty girl who leans into him… especially when you get along so famously.

(Even though he remembers playing I spy while he held your hand and walked you home from school, your little backpack slung over his shoulder, even though he had his own to carry. )

Before he knows it, it’s his last night at home, ending it off with another of his mum’s dinners. At the table you casually mention the graduate schools you’re thinking of going to— some close by, some not. He almost chokes when you mention that there’s a really nice school in Canada you were considering.

That’s when he knows he’s fucked. Because he doesn’t think of that as you getting on with your life. Of a girl getting her education. He thinks of that as losing you, and after the bliss of the past couple of weeks he’s had with you, he’s not sure he’ll take being separated from you nearly as long as he did the last time. Not to mention all of the guys at your school trying to get their hands on you.

So he’s gonna have to find a way to get you too invested to travel far. And figure out how to protect you from those assholes when he’s not around.

Making you a part of his family and putting his ring on your finger should be enough, right?

[piggycyberwarrior]

Summary: After Task Force 141 got a hint that you gave important information to their enemy- the boys do not hesitate to chain you up and give you a taste of hell. You on the other hand are innocent but they do not believe you

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Platonic Task Force 141! x Fem!Reader (Simon Ghost Riley x Fem!Reader)

a/n: part 3‘s probably gonna take a while- oop.. enjoyyyyy

Warnings: uhm this whole fic is basically a warning. Torture; Blood; Mental Health; Angst angst angst not proof read CURSING!!! (Like always ngl). Being extremely drunk in a funny way(?) idk never been drunk before

genre: ANGST

+ 1,7k words

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6

Base. Last Year. Warm summer night.

A memory so stupid yet so sweet you often thought back to it. Still fresh, lingering in your brain like a welcomed cloud. Nothing special- still, like a upbeat song- making you happy- feeling fuzzy.

Just a night spent with your people. People that understood you. People that were aware of your fears just like you were aware of theirs.

Time slowed down when you dived back into the memory. Happiness flooding your senses every time.

Crickets chirping late at night- warm air coming through the opened window of the community area- making you feel fuzzy and warm.

Johnny was drunk as hell back than- just like you have been. Ghost- was clearly amused- having a softer look on his face- as you and Soap emotionally sung 'let it go'- feeling every second. Soaps loud voice combined with the scottish accent made you laugh uncontrollably- finding it hard to breath.

Everything was just so much funnier that night.

Making up lyrics at some point- too drunk to remember every line- and even Ghost had to admit the next day that the freestyle parts weren't even that bad.

Price was in a good mood as well- leaning back and watching two of his three Sergeants almost crying while singing a stupid song and dancing to it.

And Gaz? That man was deep gone in his slumber- beer still in hand whilst he snored the whole time- drool dribbling down his chin and pooling onto the table where his head crashed onto half an hour ago.

'Kids'- Price just thought- chuckling while shaking his head slightly in disbelief. His Fingers shortly ran over moustache- giving Simon a knowing look as his liuetenant switched your drink with cold water- not wanting you to throw up your organs the next day. Even if Ghost didn‘t admit it- Price knew how fond the liuetenant was of you. He saw it in the way he let you near- how he carried you when you dodged that bullet for him.

Price never mentioned it but he saw the tears that brimmed in Simons eyes back then- frantically carrying you bridal style to the medics- never leaving your side for days. Just waiting and praying for you to recover

You took a sip of the water- now too busy to paint Kyle's nails with a hot pink Nail polish named 'Babygirl kiss' or something of the sort- not even noticing the switch of your drink- too drunk to care.

Soap was also busy distracting Price before the man finally saw what you did to Kyle. "Y/n- no" John only tutted like a parent- as he saw Gaz' now pink nails. "Whaaaa'? shi' loogs good" you slurred with a loopsided grin- hiccuping after your words and earning a gentle pat on your shoulder

"Maybe a little punishment for passing out.. its not even permanent" Ghost shrugged- same unreadable expression on his face even tho you finally abandoned your artsy task and were sprawled over his lap on the couch- fiddling with his mask like a child- feeling tired out of the sudden.

Soap just nodded his head furiously at Ghosts words- just like you- liking the polish on your friends fingers. „Ya dinnae fink tha‘ thad lass hs a broblem wih‘ tha, did a?“ the man with the mohawk slurred while stumbling slightly to take another shot.

Price sighed with a nod- taking a big gulp of his Whiskey befor he closed his eyes- feeling the burning sensation trailing down his esaphagus. Still suprised that Ghost even let you so close to him. Touching him so often.

"Uhhg" Soap moaned in pain as he laid on the cheap carpet floor- holding his belly.. "May'be- goo mally jelly jots" he bitched- curling up to a ball to immediately pass out- earning a chuckle from his Captain.

It was a silly memory- just funny when remembered- thats what you liked. Something that feels normal- comfortable.

.

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.

Now it wasn't anymore.

Far from it actually.

You dreamed often times down here- memories that normally made you laugh- now making you cry. Wishing to just forget everything you ever witnessed with them. Even if it made your day back then.

You had to admit that you sometimes wished to travel back in time. Make everything right- but what did you even do? Right.

Nothing.

You could feel yourself getting weaker. Little to no food, the wetness and cold temperatures of the room crawled up your bones- making you shiver almost all the time- legs and arms turning painfully cold- almost like dead meat.

It was quiet most of the time. Too quiet. Too dark. The cell was made to torture- to confuse- to limit your senses. And it did.

You shook your legs in the darkness of the room. Feeling them getting weaker again. You didn't sit down for almost 2 weeks. Trying to move your fingers- hissing softly as the cuffs scratched uncomfortably at your already raw rubbed wrists. You couldn't feel your arms- just hoped that your fingers really did move.

„Fuck“ you hissed- vision getting blurry with tears of frustration- and pain- and all the fucked up stuff that clouded your brain down in this shithole.

Slamming your bare foot behind you against the wall- definitely scratching it up during the process. „Fuck- I am going to kill everyone of you dirty fuckers!“ you yelled in agony- pulling at your chains- they did not budge a millimeter- just clinking under your movements.

Everything hurt. You had to admit that. Your eye was almost swollen shut, you could feel that. Broken nose, maybe also a black eye on the other side. Cuts adorning your Belly as well as your back-

You could swear that your toes and fingers were turning blue due to the coldness

You sighed into the silence. If it were any other occasion you would have probably thought about killing yourself? But now? Hah.

You will fucking live. Fucking spit in their faces Make them fucking bleed their hearts out and Scream.

Simon.

oh you were going to make him weep like a baby when all of this is done- destroying his tough shell with hateful words. Something that hurts him the most. Being Abandoned.

You were fucking Angry.

angry wasn‘t even fitting- you were furious, boiling with hate, wanting to see them destroyed.

Yeah. Your mother probably would say something like "Anger and revenge is no way out- its an unhealthy coping mechanism". You loved your Mother- didn't even know if she got informed what was going on here- probably not- you thought.

Still you wanted to throw a middlefinger at that statement. Yes. revenge isn't always a good answer. But here? Right now?

It seemed like a fucking good plan.

.

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.

"Just tell us, sugar" Gaz spat at you with a venom laced voice. Looking at your quiet and beat up frame. Painfully squeezing your chin inbetween his fingers to make you look at him.

"What? Cat gotcha tounge?" he asked with a bloodthirsthy smile. "Didn't think we would find out, eh?" he asked staring at you with a clenched jaw- he was seething.

No need to be a pro to see that.

Your feelings matched his expression perfectly - you didn't show him though. Staring into his eyes with a dead look- not bothering talking to him. "Maybe I should cut your tounge off, huh? Liking that idea, sweetie?" holding up his knife and cocking his head towards it to prove his point.

You rolled your eyes at that gesture, earning a quick stab into your shoulder, grunting at the sudden attack- not expecting it. Breathing getting heavier as you comprehended the pain that passed through your veins like a wildfire. Spreading its painful heat into every tissue of your body.

"fucker" you chocked out- getting kicked into your stomach for your words- your whole body cramping at the forcefull impact.

Body crumpling together as much as you could- still chained to the bar at the ceiling. "Just tell us the truth!" Gaz sneered angered- fist tightening as he pulled the sharp dagger out of your shoulder- an ugly squelching sound emitting during the process- making you shudder, even though you heard it pretty often during your career.

You huffed angrily- cold sweat forming on your body. Mixing with the dirt and dried up blood- sticking to your skin in an uncomfortable way.

"I. Didn't. Do. SHIT!" you yelled at him- a fire errupting in Gaz eyes, his mouth clenching shut- jabbing you into your throat with his hand out of nowhere-

And everything turned black.

.

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.

Gaz sighed at your unconscious self. Fist clenching and unclenching around the hilt of the bloody dagger- other hand coming up to wipe away the sweat that formed on his face.

"Fuck, just please.. tell us the truth" he whispered before turning around.

he quickly left- Room turning dark again. The singular lightbulb getting dimmer and dimmer till the light completely vanished.

.

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.

Your shoulder stung like a bitch after you gained consciousness. Groaning in pain- the warm liquid still slowly trickling down your shoulder, over your chest- trailing further down.

„Fucking bitch“ you moaned in pain- curses- all directed at Kyle flooded your mouth

„Motherfucker!“ you whimpered- shoulders trembling- making you wince even more. Feeling the tightness in the back of your throat- accompanied by the bitter taste and burning sensation in your eyes- frustrating you even more. tears falling free- creating small streaks on their way down- contrasting with the dried up blood on your beat up face.

A sob was the first thing that broke the silence for a long time. Then another- and another. All drenched in pain. Hurt. Betrayal.

Sobs wrecked your body- coughing after some minutes of crying your soul out. Too much Saliva or mucus in your nasal area. You pleaded into the cold air. Missing your family. Missing your happiness. Missing the old times.

old times..

Hours passed. Exhausted look on your face. Eyes shallow. Trying to drift off into sleep again.

You didn‘t care that you were probably ignoring the advice from your Mother that she taught you since you were little.

Fucking making them die on the inside it is.

Die on the Inside.

Fuckers.

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!please do reblog!

TAGLIST ⬇️

join the Taglist here (Taglist post)

@sincerleysinister | @krispynachofan | @generalfanfictionaddict | @ksharkthemommy

[hatsunemitskislobotomy]

˚◞♡ ⃗ ❝ 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙢𝙚 ❞* ೃ༄

↳ ♡₊˚. ❝ ¡love and deepspace sorta kinda spicy! eluding headcanons lolz! ❞

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

something about those boys and ripping pantyhose’s… sigh

sure it’s attractive, quite attractive actually but more often than not the boys seem to miss the mark as to why you’re wearing them (and why it’s not okay to suddenly come back not wearing them) until one day you overhear tara and some of your other female colleagues discussing a durable pair of pantyhose’s perfect for the summertime where the typical deepspace hunter pants tend to be a little bit on the heavier side.

however your interest was piqued either way— might as well do the girls a favor and test how really durable they are

xavier

you two are so in sync with once another, gentle touches and heightened breathing— your reactions from each other drove each other crazy, it was perfect

which is why he looked like a kicked puppy when he realizes that the pantyhose’s you were wearing were NOT coming off with the hook of his finger

“i… i dont understand…”

oh poor thing they never do

you explain to him that the other female deepspace hunters wanted to test out their durability— you just happened to know a good test for them

he understands, but he still doesn’t know why you’re wearing it with him

you sigh, the initial test was a success but now he was really trying to make you spell it out for him

you pull out the small dagger out of its sheath that rested on your thigh

he looks at you in confusion as you wrap his fingers around the hilt

“i’m sure you can figure out your way around this obstacle.”

and then it clicks and his face of confusion is no more

it’s safe to say, the same trick won’t work on him twice

rafayel

this man takes it as a personal attack— like you might as well have had called him a lemurian slur

“so you want me to die?”

you loved him, but this man was always doing the absolute most but he won’t admit it

if anything you’re getting ALL the blame, you got him all worked up and then you stroll up wearing the indestructible pantyhose’s from hell

he flickers a flame in between his fingers

talking about some “i wonder if they’re fireproof”

you was not about to let him find out— YOU WERE STILL WEARING THEM

“what? can’t handle a little fire?”

and he had the nerve to act like you did an attempt on his life meanwhile this man was scheming as he poked and prodded the thick mesh around your thighs

you two practically start wrestling until he has you pinned

“fine we’ll do things your way, but promise to let me burn them after they’re off.”

zayne

you had been a brat obnoxious all evening it was no wonder he was itching to put you in your place

as per usual it was attractive how he’d reach over your body to pin your arms against the bed as face to face with your torso looking absolutely starved

but right when he was about to tear into you (figuratively and literally), that pesky pair of mesh you always sported were NOT budging

he had to pause and take a minute to reflect

my man was ready to ravish you like how a predator would to their prey but he was being bested by fabric

you were trying so hard not to laugh because you can see the cogs turning in his head

“it seems that i’ve played into your hands.”

you chuckle, innocently claiming that you were getting a tad bit tired of all the pantyhose’s that he’d tear into, it was a lot of money wasted

he insures that it’s never a waste he keeps a collection of all the ones he’s torn

the entire situation is too funny to you, you really can’t help but giggle at him

he really can’t stay annoyed at you, he also did find it a lot funnier than it should’ve been

he still wanted to have his way with you

“it’s no matter, all this is to show that i’ll have to be the gentleman you deserve.”

sure your pantyhose’s were spared that night but you weren’t

❀° ┄───╮

a/n: y’all this idea literally fell from the damn sky— well actually i just saw those instagram promo stories about those hella thick and durable pantyhose’s soooo thank instagram ig?

it’s nothing crazy— i can’t write smut without having a visceral reaction sooo uh… i salute the girlies on here who can bc PHEW 🫡🫡🫡

also i wrote this on the bus lolz, thank god for privacy screen protectors

okay love you all mwah mwah MWAHHHH

╰───┄ °❀

[thlayli-ra]

Prompt:

Punkintyre fucking in Cody's dressing room since they nearly got caught it the hallway (maybe it's the day before or of a ppv) and Cody is never in his dressing room. Drew and Punk trying to stay quiet, and they manage to not attract attention despite their activities, until Cody and Roman (Or Randy if you prefer Candy) walk in clearly about to use Cody's dressing room for the exact same thing as Punkintyre.

(I personally think Roman would be funnier since Drew/Punk could get all pissy about Cody banging him:

Punkintyre: ROMAN?? SERCOISLY?! HE'S THE WORST! YOU CAN'T BANG SOMEONE WHO YOU FOUGHT AT WRESTLEMAINA, WHO ATTACKS YOU, WHO INTERFEARS IN YOUR MATCHES?!

CodyRoman: :/

I just think they're funny)

Anyway, love your writing/Art, keep up the great work! I hope you enjoy their Hell In A Cell match <3

Whelp! The same day I tell my brain not to get distracted, I get this amazing prompt and immediately get distracted 😅

I've written Dead Dove Punkintyre, heart-warming hurt/comfort Punkintyre - now it's time to get a little silly with these two. **Warning** - Punk being the ultimate little shit incoming...

Rating - Mature (18+)

Words - ~3k words

'Were you under the ring the whole fucking time?'

Punk blinked up innocently at Drew who was looking more than a little hot and flustered. 'The signal aint great,' he replied with a cute shrug as he held up his phone, pointing to the app that was currently open on the screen. 'I had to be close by for it to work.'

'You mean, you wanted to be close by,' Drew shot back, seeing right through the tattooed man's lies, 'so that you could listen in while you tormented me.'

'And you did so well,' Punk cooed. 'Nobody would have a clue.'

'Please, please tell me you didn't go live on Instagram this time?'

'I didn't, I swear,' Punk put up his hands before muttering under his breath, 'stupid apps wouldn't let me use them at the same time.'

All of a sudden, Drew's entire face scrunched up and he nearly collapsed in on himself. Quickly, he put his meaty arm against the wall for support.

'Oh?' Punk tilted his head to the side, a cocky smirk rising up one cheek. 'You feeling ok there, Big Boy?'

Drew grunted a blasphemy in reply. 'Turn it down.'

'Turn what down?' Punk bent low in order to see the harrowing expression on Drew's face.

'The thing! The damn thing!' Drew pleaded, screwing his eyes shut.

'Turn the damn thing down, what?'

'Fuck you! FUCK YOU!'

'Tut tut,' Punk shook his head and looked back at his phone. 'You know what happens when you disrespect Daddy?'

Drew's brow shot up when he saw Punk's finger slide up the screen. 'NO! WAIT! GAARRRGGHH!' The large Scot fell against the wall, needing both hands to hold himself upright.

'Damn!' Punk's huge green eyes glistened impishly and he practically giggled with glee. He could actually hear the damn thing vibrating like crazy in Drew's trunks. 'It sure packs a punch, huh?'

'TURN IT DOWN! PLEASE! FOR THE LOVE OF THE WEE MAN! TURN IT DOWN OR I'M GOING TO-'

'Shhh!' Punk scolded the Scot, glancing around him. 'You want the entire backstage to hear you?'

'GAH! FUCK! FUUUUU-'

'Dammit!' Punk grabbed Drew by his large shoulders and shoved him down the hallway, away from prying eyes and ears. Heading the first door they passed, he looked inside and found the small locker room empty. 'Here, get in.' Pushing the writhing Scot inside, Punk pulled the door shut. Now that they were safely hidden away, he could focus on torturing his victim even more. 'You can't take a little teasing, you big baby?'

'YOU HAVE THAT THING TURNED ALL THE WAY UP! DON'T YOU?!'

"Don't be dramatic,' Punk scoffed. 'Of course I don't have- oh, wait, yeah I do. Whoops!' He used his finger to slide the curser on his screen down, but only by a tiny margin. Just enough for Drew to stop yelling but still enough to keep his breath coming in those juicy little gasps. 'That better?'

'You little shitebag,' Drew cursed through his gritted teeth.

'What happened to all that self-control in the ring out there?' Punk asked, sidling up to the Scot who was soaked through with sweat, and not just from the exertions of his match. 'Is it cause I'm here now?'

'You wish that- hrrfff!' Drew's words were savagely cut off by Punk's hand grabbing the front of his trunks, fingers curling tightly around his rock-hard cock and balls...

..and the solid silicone ring around the base of his dick!

'Ooh, there it is!' Punk's eyes lit up with mischief. Using his thumb, he slid the curser up and down so that he could feel the difference in vibrations, grinning from ear to ear as Drew's whimpering kicked up into desperate whines and back down again, allowing the suffering Scot to steady his senses for a few seconds. Before jamming it all the way back up again.

'FUCK! FUCK! FU-'

Punk felt a throbbing down south and couldn't resist anymore. Grabbing Drew by the back of his head, he yanked him down to his height and muffled his howls by shoving his tongue into his open mouth. He hummed joyfully as he invaded the warm cavity, giving Drew some vibrations above to match the ones below, and entangled his inked fingers in his wet hair.

A rumble tingled Punk's lips, not from his own throat but from Drew's. He had finally awoken the Scot's inner beast! Large hands grabbed him by the thighs, lifting him clean off his feet and he was slammed against the wall. Drew thrusted his aching groin between Punk's legs, the vibrations of his cock ring now shuddering through the denim of Punk's jeans to excite his own dick.

'Shhhhhhhiiiitttt,' Punk choked out, the strength of the sensation between his legs almost blinding.

'How'd you like that, ye wee prick!' Drew snarled in Punk's ear, ruthlessly pinning the smaller man's groin with his own.

Inked fingers clawed at Drew's naked shoulder blades, ragged nails digging in as the fierce convulsions pulsed through them both. Overcome with animalistic desire, Drew began to dry-hump the older man, growling at every distressed yelp from his trapped victim.

Until-

'What was that?' Punk lifted his head, eyes wide and ears pricked. Drew hadn't noticed and was still grinding his hips against him. 'Drew! Stop! Someone's coming!'

The Scot finally paused. In the silence, they both heard voices right outside the door.

'Shit!' Punk swore as the handle to the door began to turn. He wriggled free from Drew's grasp. 'In here. Quick, you idiot!' Grabbing Drew by the wrist, he pulled him towards a closet in the corner and managed to squeeze them both in right before the door opened. The two men held their breaths as the voices became clearer, drawing closer.

'I meant what I said,' the first voice said, footsteps stomping into the room, 'I'm done with the Bloodline.'

Inside the closet, Punk gulped loudly. He knew that voice. It was Cody Rhodes! And going purely by the sound of the hefty footsteps following him, he was most likely with his work husband, Randy Orton. Or maybe Kevin Owens?

'So you keep sayin',' a deep, rich voice answered, 'but I'm not buyin' it. Nobody is!'

Punk's jaw just about dropped to the floor. That wasn't Orton. Or Owens.

It was Roman fucking Reigns!

'I don't care what anybody thinks,' Cody snapped back. 'I have been fighting the Bloodline in one variation or another since I returned to the WWE. I've watched them hurt the people I care about, I've endured all the punishment they've inflicted on me, that you inflicted on me. I have bled because of you and your family.'

There was a pause. Tension filled the air so thick it could be sliced with a knife. Punk imagined the two men were standing chest-to-chest and feverishly wished there was a slit or keyhole or something in this closet door he could peep through to watch the action. Instead all he had was a six foot five, quivering Scotsman jamming all four giant limbs into him.

'Can you just-' he hissed at Drew but clammed shut when Cody started talking again. Low this time, quiet. Oh, it was getting serious. Punk pressed his left ear against the door - his bad ear but it would have to do - to hear what he had to say.

'Far as I'm aware, I beat Solo Sikoa in Berlin. I beat the Tribal Chief-'

'He is not the Tribal Chief! He may wear the Ula Fala but that man is an imposter!'

'That's your problem, not mine!'

'You are the WWE Champion!' Roman lets his words hang in the air. 'When you won that belt from me, you made a promise to change the WWE for the better. To lead us all-'

'You were the one who made the mess in the first place.'

'I know...' Roman's voice turned small. Defeated. 'I just... want to fix it.'

Punk pressed his ear tighter against the door. Damn his partial deafness! And Drew wasn't helping with his constant whimpering. Two large fingers tugged at his sleeveless shirt, trying to pry his attention away from the other men outside. 'Get off,' he scolded Drew.

The Scotsman gave a pathetic whine.

'Shush!'

'P-Puuuunk!'

'Shut up! Or else they'll hear you.'

There was a long, drawn out silence, a shuffling of feet. By the time Cody spoke again, his tone has softened. 'You have your chance to fix it now. You're back! Go, take down the Bloodline. For good.'

'But, I can't do this alone,' a squeak of a sneaker. Punk guessed that Roman had stepped closer to Cody. 'I've never done anything on my own. Please, Cody. I need you!'

'Puuuuunk.'

'Will you just shut the fuck up!'

God he wished he could see. He was certain that Roman had his arm out, hand cupping Cody's blushing cheek. He knew that sweet sight well. Punk always loved how his pink cheeks contrasted beautifully with his platinum blonde hair.

Cody heaved a sigh. There was a slight shake to it, like he had been caught off-guard. Punk licked his dry lips and used all of his energy to focus. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend,' he said finally. 'Right?'

'Right,' Roman replied, his tone warmer, like he was smiling. 'Anyway, you remember how it was when we feuded. We were good together.'

'We were good together,' the champion had turned a little hoarse. Just exactly how close was Reigns to him right at that second? Punk was dying to know!

Another tug at his shirt. 'Puuuunk. Pleeeasseeee!'

'I swear to Jeebus, if you say one more word, I'm gonna- woah!' Punk had finally turned around to look at Drew and was shocked to see the scarlet face on the larger man, beads of sweat as big as bullets raining down his brow. He suddenly remembered the toy on his cock and the high-pitched buzz filtered back into his range of hearing. 'Oh fuck, I forgot!'

'T-turn it d-down. P-p-please. I'm going to, I'm so close to-'

'Don't you fucking dare!' Punk warned the Scot, frantically searching his pockets. 'Not before I have a chance to-'

Both men jumped a foot when a long clatter boomed out right next to them. Something had smashed into the other side of the closet door. No, wait, not something. The mumbled moans and loud slurps betrayed the culprits as Roman and Cody, making out sloppy style right there on the other side of the thin wood.

Punk turned to Drew in disbelief, mouthing 'holy shit' to the other man. Drew could only reply with a pained grimace.

'Damn, I've missed this,' Roman's voice rumbled, only an inch or two away from the stowaways. 'You always taste so good.'

Cody was breathless already. 'So... so everybody keeps telling me.'

'Is this an expensive suit?'

'No. Why?'

The sound of fabric being shredded bucked life back between Punk's legs. The blood drained from his head, rushing down south fast, making his jeans all the tighter. Then his shirt was tugged again.

'Daddy?'

Oh, fuck! Drew was desperate now! Why now? Why call him that now? When Punk was starting to ache horribly himself but couldn't do a damn thing about it.

'Daddy! P-please h-help me.'

'I'm trying! I'm trying!' he hissed back, sliding his hands into every one of the pockets of his jeans, struggling to fit his inked fingers between the too-taut denim and coming up empty.

Punk went still.

Horrible realisation dawning on him.

Drew arched his brows wretchedly at him, his blue eyes swelling with dread.

'D-daddy?'

Punk slowly met his gaze, lips pursed tight. 'I... don't have my phone,' he whispered fearfully. 'I must have dropped it when-'

Another clatter against the door and both men backed away, wedging themselves as far back into the tiny space as they could. The wood slammed again and again, rhythmic. Punk's brain went into a spin when he recognised the sound of two men fucking one another like wild animals.

Meanwhile Drew let out a pitiful squeal of his own, the intensity on his cock too much to bear. Punk rushed towards him, ramming both of his hands over Drew's mouth. 'Shhhh, hold on. Just... hold on a little longer.'

The rhythmic banging intensified, punctuated by deep strains of Roman's grunts and higher tones of Cody's gasps. All while Drew's warm dog breath fogged on Punk's hands, the buzzing seemingly getting louder, like a swarm of angry hornets surrounding them. Punk was pressed so tightly against Drew that he could feel the sensation of the cock ring on his stomach, jiggling his lower gut like jelly. On a hydraulic drill. During a mag 9 earthquake!

He grit his teeth, tried to fight back against the growth in his jeans but was failing miserably. How the fuck had Drew's dick not exploded from this fucking thing yet?

The Scot was dangerously close though. Teetering right on the edge. A tear ballooned out the corner of his eye and slid down his cheek.

'No! Drew! No!'

Suddenly Punk's hands were useless. Drew's bellows breaking through the inked fingers.

'The fuck was that?'

Punk's heart skipped a beat. They'd been rumbled!

Ten seconds later, the door was wrenched open, light hitting the two accidental voyeurs concealed inside the closet. 'Punk? Is that you? And... Drew?'

The Scot let out a final strangled wail followed by a long, drawn-out groan of relief. His large legs went slack and he slumped to the floor, back pressed into the corner of the closet and head lolled.

'Oh for fuck's sake, Drew,' Punk kicked one floppy tree-trunk leg with the toe of his sneaker. 'You fucking, pathetic-'

'Eh-hem!'

Punk looked up sheepishly at Cody and Roman. Both men were in a dishevelled state, like they had only had enough time to zip up their flies after the interruption. Cody's shirt was torn apart and his cheeks rosy. Roman was panting, his shoulders heaving.

Punk crossed his arms and lowered his brow. 'Yeah?' he glowered at the pair. 'Can I help you?'

'Well, yeah!' Cody replied incredulously. 'You can tell me what you're doing here.'

'We were here first,' he shot back with a shrug. 'What are you doing here?'

'It's my locker room.'

Punk squinted at him, confused. 'Your locker room?'

'It has my name right there on the door!'

'Oh,' Punk withered. 'I... did not see that.'

'Punk,' Cody scrubbed a hand through his hair with a sigh, 'what are you doing hiding in my locker room, with Drew McIntyre of all people?'

The tattooed man bristled at the question. 'What am I doin'-? What about you? What are you doin'? What would Randy say if he found out you were sleeping with the enemy?'

'You're the one fucking Drew McIntyre!'

'Hey! We were not fucking!' Punk protested before quickly returning the conversation back to Cody and Roman. 'And anyway, come on! Roman fucking Reigns? The guy made your life hell? You faced him at Wrestlemania, twice! He attacked you for crying out loud!'

'Drew McIntyre smashed your face into a metal door and left you a bloodied corpse in your own home town!'

'Roman had his third cousin, thrice removed, through wedlock or however the fuck Dwayne is related to him, beat you to the floor and whip you senseless with a leather belt.'

'Oh... my god!' Cody screamed into his hands. 'Are you even listening to yourself right now? Are the concussions finally catching up with you? Do you even remember what the hell happened in Berlin or have you just lost your damn mind?'

'What did you do to Drew?' Roman's booming voice broke through the two men's bickering and they turned to spy the unresponsive Scot.

'Oh, shit! I forgot! Again!' Punk looked around and spied his phone on the floor close to where Drew had lifted him up earlier but before he could retrieve it, Roman picked it up. 'Hey! Gimme that!'

'Hmm,' Roman cocked an eyebrow as he scanned over the controls on the phone's screen. 'Just-Vibing? What is this?'

'Nothing!' Punk failed miserably at looking innocent.

Roman slid his thumb down the curser and Drew let out a sigh of sweet relief. But as he slid it back up, he tensed up again and thumped his head back against the corner of the closet. Then, when he pressed a button, there was a series of sharp buzzing which Drew gasped with in unison.

'Wait, it pulses?' Punk asked in astonishment. 'I didn't know that!'

'Man, old people with technology!' Cody mocked.

'Shut. Up!'

Roman ignored them and walked over to the ragged Scot. 'Hands up, Puppy,' he said and Drew immediately complied.

'Wait, what?' Punk spluttered out from behind.

'He was mine first,' Roman returned. He dipped two fingers into the studded waistband of Drew's trunks and pulled them back, discovering a wet, sticky mess coating the inside of his gear as well as the brightly coloured silicone ring wrapped around Drew's softened dick. 'You got him a cock-ring?'

'He broke my bracelet, so I told him to buy me a replacement,' Punk shrugged with a mischievous grin. 'Told him he could keep it in his trunks like he used to, you know, for old times sake.'

'It's the same fucking colours too,' Roman rolled his eyes.

'Maybe it's about time he returns it,' Cody side-eyed Punk, slyly.

'Huh?' the tattooed wrestler glanced warily between them. 'What are you-?'

'Good idea,' Roman said, reaching into Drew's trunks and slipping the silicon ring off of him, the Scot purring as he was freed. However, Punk's panic spiked and he tried to back away from the impending danger. 'Here,' Roman tossed Punk's phone to Cody, 'since he sullied your locker room, you get to play with him first.'

'Well, if you insist,' Cody grinned wickedly at Punk, who found himself backed into a corner, Roman and the cum-soaked cockring drawing closer and closer.

'Now, wait, we can all talk about this like gentlemen, right? Guys. Guys???'

[spextr1m]

Enemies to Lovers with... Joker aka Ren Amamiya!!

A/n: I wrote this at 6 AM yall

Contains: MASSIVE spoilers, ew Kamoshida, Shido's a shit, Reader being dense ANNND a simp

GN! Reader (Referred as "You" later "They/them")

-You're confused.

-When they gossiped about the new kid and referred him as "Punk kid" you imagine him being more scarier only you've met a timid dude with a criminal record, you like the rest would've get intimidated and stay away from him.

-Not to mention, Kamoshida gives you an ick especially what he did to girls

-Everytime Ren tries to approach you, you either flinched or ran away because you're worried that he'll rat you out to Kamoshida.

-After Kamoshida's heart changed, you're also 100% confused about Kamoshida so you'd think that it has to be a joke that there's no way someone is capable of changing hearts like admitting the crimes.

-The more Phantom Thieves have more members the more you're even more surprised (Although you secretly envies that you want to be part of them).

-You got this thinking, does Ren felt the same as you or...

-Nope, it's definitely one sided while you're scared of his reputation but he just teases the hell out of you.

-When he approaches only you squeaked which he finds it amusing.

-Of course, Ann will knock your sense out that Ren's more than the criminal

-"How am I supposed to know??" "He didn't do wrong!"

-You're also type of person who freaked out when Ren's gaze is so intense that your soul exits your body which also freaks out others about your shenanigans.

-But why's your heart beats so fast when it comes to him?

-Guess Ann's words struck on you.

-Ren will spend his time with you if you let him and show who he really is, so you accepted it bit reluctant. However you're shocked that he shows his different side to you, you're now convinced that he's innocent and Ann's influence cause you to become more opening to him.

-The more you spent your times with him, the more your heart beats so faster so bad that you want to kiss his grinning face but worries that he's not gonna like you back.

-But if you're in Metaverse, of course the dude will PROTECT you like a knight.

-Ironically Phantom Thieves adopt you and you're closest to Ann

-Of course you confess your confusing feelings to Ann that when you like his voice because it's soothing to hear unlike Morgana Crowds blocking their own thoughts then you wish that you want to help him so sooner if it weren't for Shido.

-Of course, Ann will help you out and now proud that you're accepting him as a person.

-Only you accidentally blunder that Ren is so pretty and looks handsome especially his grinning face to wipe it out to your other friend yk what's funnier

-He actually heard it.

-"I knew you like me so sooner." You notice a shadow towering you which makes your other friend nudging you out of "Way to go dude, you confessed your love to him" which you look at him with a biggest grin you've ever seen in your life.

"Damn it I thought I was sneaky!" Their face now have red dusting and their hands lightly balled fist, oh boy you're now redder than the usual.

-And yes, you two are now a thing because he stole your first kiss by kissing your lips (with consent ofc)

-You ended up defending him when someone threatens you about you dating a criminal.

-When you see him being badly beaten up, you're so worried that you want to punch someone in the face.

-Ever since Shido's now in bars, he's now freed man which you can't help but to cry in tears with happiness that your wishes.

[starry-bi-sky]

honestly your dpxdc clone au gives me life, its adorable as all hell and im a sucker for found family but with that being said, its so freaking hysterical to me that Danny is going full feral liminal menace at Wes any time hes near and Wes himself is still 100% into it the freak (affectionate) and thats not even pointing out the paralles it could possible create since danny and dames gives massive parallels to dick and damian and dick does have a thing for redheads.

yeesSSSSS! I was planning on hoarding this to myself but i can't not reply. and i'll be able to find this again with the clone^2 tag so win WIN. i'm so glad you are as delighted by this as me. It's so hilarious to me that Danny just becomes a complete freak whenever he spots Wes, and I'm the one who wrote it into existence. Like- like i don't know how to explain my vision in words but like, its like Danny sees Wes and immediately goes 'what can I do to make his day worse'. And then he goes and does it.

(honorary read more because i talk a lot)

He's relatively normal around his friends too, which makes him going full-fledged unhinged around Wes even funnier to me. Like, Danny will spout weird shit sometimes to Sam and Tucker, but usually its prefaced with him talking about patrol or there would be context before he said anything. With Wes? Though?? he will just. say anything, completely unprompted. Slings an arm around his shoulder like they've been buddies since primary school and then spits out a weird new fun fact he learned about the bodily anatomy while researching his latest cold case. All vaguely-threatening but utterly insane things to say as way to start a conversation.

And sometimes its not even that, he'll walk up to Wes and ask him if he saw the latest daytime fight between Phantom and Skulker. And then he'll say "yeah i missed it myself but I saw clips of it being posted online" and then watch Wes mentally explode him with his mind. or he'll disparage Phantom for having such a young partner with him, "Can you believe he'd let a kid fight ghosts with him? I'd never let my brother ghosthunt with me if I was Phantom."

All of this with such a deceptive look on his face but the most delighted, shit-eating gleam in his eyes. Wes is chewing glass and he wants to yell that he does let his brother fight ghosts with him. Also you told him yourself that nothing would've stopped your demonic (Wes' words) little brother from joining you.

Damian gets in on the fuckery occasionally, but since he's not around often with Wes about, it doesn't happen nearly as often as it does between Wes and Danny. Sam and Tucker know he's screwing with him too, and both of them are a little wary about him being careless with his secret id. But he's been doing this since he was 14-ish and it hasn't backfired yet. So. They're not actively stopping him.

Danny walks back to his lunch table after terrorizing Wes and Tucker just asks him what he said, because Wes was about as red as a tomato when he walked away. Danny offhandedly sighs and innocently says he tried to have a conversation about Phantom with him. Wes didn't seem to like it all that much. Weird.

And yes, yes. Wes is totally into it and is slightly enraged about this fact, because not even he knows why he's into it. The freak (affectionate). Danny gives him this troublemaker smirk, and i did say smirk, and Wes doesn't know whether or not if he wants to smack him or kiss him. Or both. Like, yeah, pine, white boy, pine.

(And this is a dramatized image but I'm also highly entertained by the idea that Wes keeps getting routine dirty looks from various peers because they, too, have a crush on Fenton. Except Fenton doesn't talk to anyone else unless its his friends and sometimes Valerie, and Weston, the guy who keeps accusing him of being the local vigilante, is somehow routinely having conversations with him?? And BLOWING IT?? Like everyone else thinks he's fumbling so bad, and yet fenton keeps tALKING to him.)

And yes!! i'm always so pleased whenever someone brings up the parallels D+D have to Dick and Damian, because that was lowkey my intention when I was making the solo clone damian au. Although it was supposed to be more implied since I don't really know much about Damian and Dick other than they're very close and Dick was Damian's Batman for a year. And then of course the very smaller parallel (??) 'what if' between Bruce and Damian and D+D in clone^2 considering who they are both clones of.

And man this just makes me want to talk about when batfam meet D+D because I just want them to see D+D be so brotherly towards each other. Like I want them to see Bby Dames wearing his goofy fun fact shirts and stealing Danny's hoodies/flannels/etc and blatantly lying about it when Danny asks. Only for Danny to then throw him over his shoulder like Tadashi from BH3 and jump around.

And also. I do not know what Damian Wayne's (DW as I'll call him) stance on being called "Dami" is - the general consensus I've seen is that its usually used as a playful nickname in order to get a rise out of him, and he doesn't really like it.

But baby Dames being called that freely, and often, and its sometimes used to get a rise out of him but thats typically what nicknames do. Its used as easily as his full name is with the same amount of affection. And its like his main go-to nickname. "Dami" and "Dames" with the occasional "Bud/Buddy", "Squirt", "Little man", etc. Not once is he ever called 'demon-spawn'

(which i know is a fanon nickname but its a relatively popular nickname)

but yeah, uhhh. i think thats all of my thoughts on the matter. for now lmAO

[bluenotes75]

Aonunete oneshot

Originally posted on tiktok : @preachneteyam

Theme : friends in denial having a sleepover

fan art : maridee_arts

Aonung stared at the ceiling as he lay on the bed. He had tried absolutely everything: from counting sheep to watching to asmr.

Yet, no matter what he did, he couldn't sleep.

The reason was simple. His mind kept wandering to a certain someone sleeping in the room right next to him.

Yeah, Neteyam.

He knew this sleepover was a bad idea. What did he expect from an activity organized by Lo'ak?

Yet, he hadn't found it in him to refuse when his sister practically begged him to participate - their parents refused to let her go to the Sully’s house alone.

…and maybe Neteyam was also another reason why he agreed. He was his best friend after all.

Either way, he found himself in their living room with a unique thought in his head: passing time with Teyam. He already knew he would have fun in his presence.

What is funnier, however, is that things never went go as planned. Barely 20 minutes into the evening, Tuk stole Neteyam from him and stuck to his side the whole night.

While anyone could think it was an innocent action, Ao'nung knew she did it out of spite for not buying her McDonald's the previous day. (broke after spending all his money on Neteyam, Tsireya and Tuk).

So here he was, unable to close an eye or even think of how to make peace with Tuk no matter how hard he tried. He was in Neteyam withdrawal and he wanted to see the boy so badly.

After an umpteenth failed attempt at falling asleep, the light-skinned boy made up his mind and stood up determined: he would get his daily Neteyam dose. He headed toward the oldest Sully brother’s room and knocked on the door.

No answer.

After a second try, he opened the door to find an immobile silhouette on the bed, submerged in darkness. The dark-skinned boy’s soft snores were all that could be perceived in the quietness of the room.

He walked up to the bed and bent to reach Neteyam's level.

“Tey,” he whispered.

No answer.

The pretty boy was far too lost in his slumber to react. Ao’nung felt guilty for what he was about to do, he didn't want to cut short his hours of sleep, but the need to stay with Neteyam was stronger.

He shook Neteyam’s shoulder softly.

“Uh ?” the dark-skinned boy woke up in confusion, and squinted at the shadow facing him before softening his expression.

“ Oh, it's you Nung.’’

He slowly sat, his amber eyes staring right back at Ao'nung who watched in silence.

“You seem sad, is everything alright ?”

At the question, the wavy-haired boy pulled out his acting skills. He was aware of Neteyam's soft spot for him being sad and he was going to use it to his advantage.

“I had a nightmare,” he whispered, somber expression matching his tone.

The shorter looked surprised by his words, but that startlement soon melted into fondness. He scooped to the left and tapped the space beside him.

“Wanna sleep next to me?” he then asked in the usual gentle tone that Ao'nung has been missing all day.

The latter nodded eagerly, biting the inside of his cheek in hope of hiding his grin as he settled down next to his friend. Neteyam laid to face him and adjusted the bed cover over their bodies.

“You feel better now ?”

Ao’nung nodded before closing his eyes. Just being in Neteyam's presence made him feel much better. Yet, a few minutes later, he was still wide awake.

The small size of the bed made his skin brush against Neteyam’s at each shift. And each contact left a burn on his skin.

It wasn't enough. He wanted to feel Neteyam against himself. So much, it ached.

He stared at the object of his yearning who seemed to be back in his peaceful slumber. From closer, he could study him better, the darkness barely being an obstacle anymore. Neteyams long lashes, his nose adorned with freckles, his lips…

He swallowed. Sometimes he just wanted to-

Ao'nung looked away as his heart clenched. He couldn't let his mind wander to things about his friend. What would Neteyam think of him? Before he could beat himself over it, his eyes fell on another detail.

The red octopus plush Neteyam was hugging.

Two things crossed his mind. First, how precious the was scenery. The shorter one looked so adorable and Aonung was screaming inside.

Second, was how much he wanted to be that plush. Why was Neteyam hugging it instead of him?

He frowned and glared at the plush. Tuk already stole Neteyam, nothing would get his friend's time except for him.

'Watch and see,’ he mocked the poor plush as he rose on his elbows, making the mattress bend under him.

“I'm still sad, can we hug,” he let out before freezing at his own boldness.

Yet, Neteyam seemed too tired to notice as he opened his eyes faintly, sleep having returned to his body. He then opened his arms as an invitation after setting the plushy next to his pillow.

Ao'nung didn’t waste a second to slip into the hold, wrapping his own arms around Neteyam’s waist and hiding his nose right above his collarbone. The latter adjusted his position at the same time, and his braids fell on Nung's shoulders.

The taller sighed in satisfaction as Neteyam's body heat as well as the fruity scent of his shampoo invaded him. Soon after, he felt arms tighten around his neck and fingers play with his locks. He knew it was his friend’s way of comforting him and the embrace was just how he expected it to be :

Soft, welcoming and solacing.

“What about now,” Neteyam’s gentle tone caressed his ear.

“Way better,” Ao’nung whispered as he felt sleep slowly overpower his body.

But that peaceful state didn't last for long.

“You are such a big baby,” Neteyam giggled.

Suddenly energized, Ao'nung jerked up, a fake offended expression painted on his features.

“Hey ! I'm a man,”

Neteyam rose his eyebrow with a teasing grin.

“If that's what helps you sleep tonight,”

Aonung gasped before quitting the hold.

“You are so evil,'' he wiped a nonexistent tear.'' Tuk is rubbing off on you,”

Neteyam giggled once again, before opening his arm wide open.

“I'm joking Nungie, come back here.”

''Why should I? You are so mean,''

''You can also go back to your ro-''

Ao'nung took back his comfortable position with no further complaints.

“Good night,” he heard Neteyam laugh above him.

Silence fell over them as he thought of what to answer.

“With you, it will be for sure. Thank you tesoro,” he finally whispered as he tightened his hold on Neteyam's middle and laid his head on his chest, not noticing the boy's blush. Something else had caught his attention.

“Neteyam?”

''hmm,''

“Your heart is beating so fast,”

The shorter tensed at his words. When Aonung tried to face him, he had hidden his face in his pillow.

“Shut up and sleep,” the boy's muffled voice came out.

“Yes.”

Ao'nung fought down his smirk and soon, he let sleep overpower his body.

And if he stuck his tongue out at the now lonely octopus plush watching them, that's a secret between him and Morpheus.

Extra

Neteyam waited until faint snores filled his ears to finally let go of the breath he was holding. He watched fondly the usual confident boy now sleeping in his arms. It was so cute.

He then blushed as he remembered Ao'nung's hands around his waist. For some reason, it made them more flustered than it should, and he couldn't help but hide his face behind his hands.

His heart skipped a beat as his mind wandered back to the nickname Ao'nung had called him earlier: 'tesoro'. The boy would only call him like that on rare occasions. Until this day, Ao'nung had refused to tell him its meaning and all Neteyam knew was that it was from his first language.

He also knew it made him feel special.

When the shorter felt his cheek heat again, he decided it was enough pining for the night. He pecked the top of Ao'nung’s head, before hugging him tighter and finally closing his own eyes.

The end

[trekmupf]

The Gang fights cold war paranoia

Pro

A great short and to the point cold open that immediately flings the viewer into this new time travel setting

Bringing the 60's military and Roddenberry's vision of the future military face to face in this episode is interesting: some things are futuristic and some, by now, have happened (women in the military), some are the same (Kirk's &Christopher's sense of duty)

The balance of silly moments and humour works well with the more serious parts of the episode (Christopher and the crew possibly being stuck, the danger of temporal meddling)

I love that Star Trek roughly correctly predicted two real life Space achievements: the first moon shot being in the 60's on a Wednesday no less, and Christopher's son being part of the first Saturn probe, which in real life launched in 2004 – so roughly around the time his possible son could've been working for NASA

Everyone looks really beautiful in their close ups, once again

I like the change from “actually you contributed nothing” to “shit this guy needs to go back, his son is super important” because even though you yourself might not change the world, a person you influenced (or created) could, and therefore every person is relevant in their own way

The Paranoia and cold war mood is captured really well for a modern audience

The fact that the 60's, highly modern at the time, now feels like a museum to today's viewers just like it does for the crew; At the same time the Enterprise and it's Science Fiction is also old school to us; Old science fiction is always a great window into history also

The original special effects are once again great, the original enterprise is so adorable and beautiful (Video Link)

Kirk flirting with Christopher is its own comedy

Kirk's whole facial journey when Christopher appears

Instead of containment or anything Kirk immediatly shows of his ship and tells him literally everything while still flirting in the lift

That flight suit must be so uncomfortable Captain Christopher, you should totally change into something more comfortable :)

The fact that Christopher is such a straight guy from his time who doesn't clock this at all makes it even funnier, two opposite sites of the sexual tension scale

then Spock swooping in destroying Kirks happy threesome dreams with reality

I mean how else can I interpret Spock's look at Christopher than that of a jealous boyfriend

Spock then sticking around and not leaving Jim and Christopher alone AND casually delivering the sickest “your life was sort of useless” burn

Christopher finding out about his son, the way the others are just as delighted about it as he is and the way he smiles every time it's mentioned is not only sweet but also shows certain things about humanity won't change – the love for our children is something they can bond over despite being centuries apart

Sulu and Kirk solo adventure! Also them working well together! Also just the fact that they casually beam in the middle of a military base and aren't even that sneaky about it

Sulu's large bag is keeping all his secrets

Bones and Spock, flirting their way through Kirk's absence

The entire scene were Kirk and Sulu get discovered is comedy gold: them pretending not to hear the obvious beeping, Spock eyeing the frozen military man up and down, Kirk's absolutely done with this plot reaction, Bones taking the gun and communicator off him in slow motion, it's all so well paced and acted

Us? We are so so innocent and don't know anything :)

The fight scene is so very Trek, but a) just very believable as it's just chaos and limbs b) Kirk reacted so quickly and well to the situation as it was never about winning but about giving Sulu time to escape and c) Sulu reading the situation correctly and doing the right thing

Kirks giving the policemen nothing but cunt and he's such a pretty boy doing it, giving severe I'm beautiful & I don't deserve this vibes

I literally made so many screenshots of kirk being done with what's going on that I made a seperate post

“Oh this little thing? Just something I slipped on” Kirk STOP flirting with the military guys!!!

Con

the entire "Kirks pc is a sexy lady" is just weird, serves no purpose and feels very out of place

The way the situation is solved in the end feels very sudden and fast compared to the rest of the episodes pacing

Counter: Nothing

Quote I made an error in my computations (Spock) Oh? This could be an historic occasion. (Bones)

Moment: It's hard to choose, but the fight itself is so great and classic TOS including Kirk yeeting himself at all three of them

Summary: The classic Sci-Fi time travelling trope done Trek style, with some team shennanigans, including a very "I'm done with life" Kirk trying to flirt with a time traveller, a "I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever" Sulu and some classic TOS fighting. The episode also offers some deep thoughts on the importance of a single person in our society and the dangers of temporal meddling, setting a precedent that will shape future directives for Starfleet and time travel. Previous Episode - Next Episode - All TOS reviews

[britcision]

Hey guys guess what? We’re finally out of the dang gala! However, because we did go back in for the explosion, now the boys don’t get to kiss until chapter 15 at the earliest

This chapter’s a little darker than the rest, we’re getting back into Jason’s death and Tim has finally done a google on Amity Park

Most prominently featured is Jason’s self loathing however, so do prepare yourselves for that after the Mariokart

The link to AO3 is in the first chapter

First chapter:

Last chapter:

——————

Not Over Til The Goth Lady Says Fuck

Well, Brucie Wayne hadn’t died. Gotham escaped annihilation by a sliver. There might still be something of worth left in this dump.

Vlad wandered amongst the guests as they returned to the main hall, wondering idly where those bloody Wayne “children” had all gone.

For all that people were sooo protective of them, no one seemed to care where they were during the actual danger. Typical.

Not that he minded. Vlad would be quite happy not to run into any of them again for quite some time. He had fences to mend first, and no desire to provide more fuel to the fire.

There was some form of commotion off to one side of the hall, yet more yelling, and Vlad let himself drift over. Honestly, the voices were almost familiar…

Although some of the more choice words weren’t. Vlad assumed they were vile exhortations of some sort, especially from the gasps of those around him.

It was actually rather impressive. He thought he had a rather extensive vocabulary of curses, but someone was putting him to shame.

At least his little moving bubble of space was useful as he made his way through the crowds. People who got too close soon realised who he was and pushed their way into the crowds to avoid him.

No jostling for Vladdie today. Maybe it wasn’t the very worst after all.

He was honestly a little surprised to find Samantha and Pamela Manson in full duet. As much as Samantha always wanted to scream herself hoarse at these events, usually she kept a lid on it.

It took a moment for the words to sink in, to realise that Daniel and young Jason were at the center of even this little ball of ire. His jaw dropped.

“I CANNOT believe you?! Why is it ALWAYS like this, EVERY TIME?! I was DEFENDING YOU and you can’t keep your legs shut for a minute at a time!” Samantha bellowed, fists clenched and a glint of tears in her eye.

“You utter HARLOT! Shameless STRUMPET, leading that INNOCENT BOY astray! DISGRACING my poor baby girl, you are WORSE THAN YOUR PARENTS Daniel Fenton!”

Pamela was actually crying, being held by her husband to prevent her from either running to Sam or full on attacking Daniel.

Vlad was going to put his money on attacking. The Manson women had a worrying streak of rage. Although…

Brows furrowing he tuned out the noise for a moment (Pamela had clearly been reading a lot of period romances) and focused on the thread of emotion he’d picked up.

Samantha was… delighted. Vlad might have suspected it was just at the chance to finally scream at a gala, but there were no darker feelings anywhere.

She was having a wonderful time. And Daniel and Jason, for all that they looked contrite, for all that Daniel’s head was slumped, were equally delighted.

Something was going on here, something all three young people had orchestrated. From the content of the yelling and the state of undress…

Vlad’s eyes widened. Daniel was wearing Jason’s tie. Jason’s shirt was missing three buttons.

Well that would certainly put both young men in an excellent mood, but at a gala?!

He was quite sure his cheeks must have blanched at just the thought. He’d noticed they were fond of each other, but so soon?

Perhaps Jason would have to be a son-in-law rather than an actual son. He simply wouldn’t accept the other way round, no matter how much Daniel might resist.

Daniel was perfect… if apparently a little easy. Not disloyal though, which was something of a relief. He’d never have considered Daniel capable, since he was loyal to his friends long past the point of fault.

Even now, he was perfectly happy to be harangued by both Samantha and her mother to allow Sam to make some sort of point.

He was distantly aware of the crowd parting again, but didn’t turn to acknowledge the arrival of… Brucie. He looked a little the worse for wear, likely from the thermos more than the actual rogues.

A thin smear of blood at his hairline betrayed where the thermos had struck, and the faint shadow of an oncoming bruise. He should probably be having someone scan his head, but since it usually appeared to be empty that was probably of little concern.

Well, he wasn’t likely to pay Vlad any mind.

Not with this little display.

**

Bruce had barely had time to pull Damian aside in the hopes of a debrief before shrieks and yelling once more filled the dining hall.

It couldn’t be Harvey after all, could it? As annoyed as Robin clearly was by the distraction, Bruce had no choice. He headed to the center of the yelling.

No matter how much it made his throbbing head pulse.

It definitely wasn’t Harvey at least. While Two Face probably knew all of the words being yelled, he would never say more than half of them. Not even at his worst.

The thought almost dragged a smile out of him, but a particularly loud curse rang off the marble and set up echoes in his skull. At least one of the voices was almost familiar.

The crowd parted without him having to jostle through it, and he’d never been more grateful to Gotham’s high society. Didn’t quite think about why they might want to help him get to the center of the action.

Damian - no, still Robin until he changed, had disappeared into the crowd at some point, but Bruce forged on anyway. He’d probably gone back to help Red Robin watch over Croc.

For now, he just had to focus on whatever else had gone wrong this evening, finally stepping through into an almost clear patch of floor and what must have been the commotion.

And arrived just in time to see Sam Manson turning from berating Danny and Jason, to point an accusing finger at her mother. Pamela actually shut up in surprise.

“And YOU! This is ALL your fault! If you had just let me be with Valerie this NEVER would have happened! She would NEVER do this to me! I’m NEVER dating another man again!”

Pamela looked like she might faint, her face pale as her daughter’s words sank in.

It didn’t take Gotham’s best detective to work out what must have happened. A quick glance at Danny and Jason showed them both… far more dishevelled than simply making out in the closet would allow.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, clocking the missing buttons, ruffled hair, Jason’s still partially open pants, and his stomach sank.

At a gala. Even in the height of his playboy days, Brucie had never gotten caught at a gala. He had a sudden sympathy for Alfred and resolved to give the man his most sincere apologies.

If Bruce’s heyday was anything like this for the old man, he owed him far more than that. Maybe a fruit basket. A nice new shotgun.

He stepped forward quickly, taking advantage as Sam drew in a breath to try and inject some calm.

“I’m terribly sorry, but what has happened here?”

All eyes turned immediately to him and he spread his hands, gesturing for peace. Pamela rallied at once, pulling free of her husband and shooting Danny an utterly poisonous look.

“Oh I am so sorry Brucie, this is entirely my fault! We should never have brought that awful Fenton boy, he’s been CORRUPTING your poor Jason, taking advantage of him, he’s a dreadful influence!” She fluttered, clearly unsure where to direct her attention.

Behind her mother, Sam snorted loudly.

“It was Jason’s dick in Danny’s ass, MOM, I’m pretty sure he was involved!”

And that seemed to fluster both boys more than any of the previous yelling, Danny’s cheeks burning as he clapped both hands over his mouth. Jason was doing his best not to laugh.

Bruce gave him a Look, because they Would be discussing this later, and wasn’t in the least surprised when Jason just rolled his eyes. Still, there had to be limits.

Danny clearly had a far greater hold over Jason than he’d feared. It was an effort to force himself to remember Danny’s youth.

Bruce had been that age not all that long ago. And, as he’d just realised, probably a lot worse in certain specific ways. Perhaps they were just indiscrete. It didn’t all have to be a devious plot.

He gave Pam his very best soothing smile, taking her hand gently.

“It has been a very dramatic evening already, I’m sure the boys were just over excited. They will go and wash up and then Jason and I will have a quiet. Word.” He layered the last two words with intent.

Honestly, this was perfect. An excuse to get Jason alone, get a report direct from the source. Jason wouldn’t tell the truth, but Bruce knew him well enough to know what the lies he told concealed.

Sam Manson seemed equally derisive of the idea as Jason himself, shooting Bruce a vicious glare that looked eerily like her mother’s.

He almost took a step back. But she didn’t have that thermos anymore.

“Of course Famous Playboy Brucie doesn’t think fucking around with someone else’s partner is a big deal! Where do you think Jason learned it?” She snarked, sending an icy dagger straight into Bruce’s heart.

Had he done that? No, it was just his aching head. And the building wave of exhaustion. Jason knew as well as the others that the playboy thing was a front.

Had Jason ever had good relationship role models though? His parents certainly weren’t, and Bruce himself had definitely never been much of one.

If the closest thing he had was Talia, perhaps that explained why he’d fallen so easily under Danny’s sway…

His mind was wandering. Perhaps he should have one of his boys check him for a concussion.

As if summoned by his thoughts, suddenly Nightwing and Signal were there, pushing through the crowd. Thank all that was good that this was about to be not his problem for a while.

“Alright everyone, calm down, the cops are already on their way, let’s not also give them a murder,” Nightwing declared far too gleefully. It set off… something, but Bruce couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

Maybe taking the chance to head home early was a good idea after all. It wasn’t as though Jason would be courting donors for his own projects today.

No, Jason was courting much worse things, a dark little part of Bruce grumbled, and he fought to squash it down.

Jason was an adult, and whatever choices he made with other consenting adults, no matter how bad said choices were, were his own.

Since when were any of his baby boys old enough to be caught fooling around in closets?

Maybe he also needed to go and sit down.

**

Not getting to witness the explosion as himself kinda sucked, but Dick could accept getting to be there in costume instead.

It actually gave him an excuse to intervene, and meant he had a reason to try and pull Danny and Jason aside for Signal to get a good look at Danny.

They had hung back for a while, Nightwing not wanting to interrupt Sam’s frankly incredible vocabulary of curses, Signal just… trying desperately to work out what was going on.

Poor guy. Someone should have warned him.

Nightwing specifically probably should have warned him, but hey, too late for that now. Once Bruce had things mostly quieted down, Nightwing figured they should move in to wrap it up.

And sure, Sam was glaring at him again, but the big taser wasn’t actually in her hand yet so he was probably fine. He turned, giving Jason and Danny sweeping looks.

Not laughing got a whole lot harder when he took in the extent of their dishevelment. And the mostly unrepentant look on Jason’s face.

“Look, perhaps we should get these two young men to a bathroom, do some clean up and get you presentable again? And the young lady, wouldn’t you rather discuss this in private?” He offered brightly.

He knew full well Sam would not want to discuss it in private. But it gave her an excellent starting off point for another explosion.

Only helped when Pamela Manson immediately jumped on the idea.

“Oh yes, of course, we can all go and talk about things away from prying eyes,” she trilled, giving her daughter a significant look and not looking at their audience so obviously she might as well have stared.

Sam rallied magnificently, drawing herself up and sucking in a deep breath.

“And WHAT do you think I have to talk about with them?!” She demanded, and Danny took a very quick step back. Right into Jason, who caught him automatically.

Adorable. Nightwing wished he had a camera. The domino’s would had to do, and he took a couple quick snaps before turning back, not wanting to miss the fun.

Pam was now trying to calm her daughter down, like she hadn’t also been screaming invective and slut shaming Danny seven ways to Sunday.

She stepped forwards, hands held out placatingly, and stopped at Sam’s glare.

“Sammykins… I know you’re upset, but…”

“I would definitely like to leave,” Danny stage whispered, deliberately shifting in place.

Nightwing pressed his lips tight together to keep the smile from showing. Whether or not Danny and Jason were actually fucking in the closet, the boy committed to the bit.

“UPSET?!” Sam demanded, stepping closer to her mother now and making her back up.

As much fun as this part of the show was about to be, there was still a lil actual work to be done. Signal had definitely gotten a good look at Danny by now, but might as well get him alone.

Just to be able to prove it wasn’t anyone else in this room. Glancing around, he caught sight of Steph back in the crowd.

At least someone would still be there to enjoy the show.

He debated hauling Danny over his shoulder and carrying him out, but decided against it. Not least because he had no fucking idea where that thermos had gone, and didn’t want to find out.

Instead he clapped Danny on the shoulder, gave Signal a significant nod, and headed for the door.

“Seems like you might need a little protection, and I need to give you a once over anyway after tangling with Croc.” Fuck you Spoiler, he could steal her excuse.

Danny actually laughed at that, turning to head away as Sam gained rapidly in volume.

“Oh Jason gave me an extremely thorough going over, but you’re welcome to look too,” he agreed and Nightwing actually giggled. Just a little.

Flirty little shit. He could feel Pamela Manson trying to develop eye lasers. Danny was the perfect addition to the family.

Covered the giggle up before someone noticed and rushed them both to the nearest door, and down towards the backrooms. Following behind, Signal cleared his throat awkwardly.

“So, uh… do either of you actually need a bathroom?” He still sounded lost, so Jason took pity on him once they had a closed door between themselves and others.

“Nah, we faked it to fuck with Sam’s parents. Danny does need a check for any broken ribs though,” he added.

Danny rolled his eyes, waving a hand in Jason’s direction.

“I’m fine, the big guy just tossed me around a little. I’m not even gonna bruise,” he said casually enough that Nightwing was gonna add like, 50 points to his “worry about New Favourite Guy” meter.

He raised a hand cautiously.

“That might just be the adrenaline. I’ve taken more than a couple rounds with Killer Croc and he can do some pretty nasty damage,” he offered warily.

Danny sighed like he was being asked something completely unreasonable and yanked his shirt up, showing off a skinny pale chest and stomach.

“Look, I’m fine, alright? Maybe if you considered getting good he wouldn’t hurt you either.” And yeah, Danny was a sassy little fuck and Nightwing snickered, but he was still worried.

Sure enough though, there wasn’t a mark on the kid. Not on his chest from being hit by Croc, not on his back from an impact that shattered tiles.

Signal let out a low whistle off to one side, and Nightwing had to wonder what the hell the meta could see. He himself though, he just had to raise his hands and admit defeat.

“Hey, if you say so. I’m just doin’ my job here.”

There was a moment of… something. Jason and Danny didn’t so much as glance at each other, but Dick would swear there was a moment of charge in the air, a bolt of communication.

Shared understanding that they’d done nothing outward to share.

Then Danny’s lips tipped up in a cocky grin and he snickered, looking Nightwing full in the eye.

“Yeah, whatever you say, cop.”

**

Danny wasn’t gonna mention it. Partially because of the way Jason had looked at him, calculating, sizing him up.

He’d never been looked at like that by someone who wasn’t immediately about to attack him. Even seeing Jason’s aura, no hint of aggression or malice in it, hadn’t helped.

It. He didn’t like it. Not from a friend.

He remembered the fear though, from back in the early days when Wes called him out. The fear of what losing that secret would mean for his friends, his family, the ones he loved.

Back before he knew everyone would roll their eyes and write it off. Back when he thought someone learning his secret was a threat.

Guess all vigilantes had some common experiences.

But hell, it wasn’t like the bats weren’t gonna know who he was by tomorrow morning at the latest. That was fine, so long as it didn’t lead them on to what Jason was.

They’d probably have questions, and if they were super lucky he might even bother to answer some of them. Hell, he might know the answers at all; that wasn’t a given.

But if they were gonna go nosing about in his life, he might as well really underline that he wasn’t just some little puppy that’d roll over and play dead.

He was a strong, independent half ghost who didn’t need no man.

So when Jason heard him sassing Nightwing and his whole aura became a gleeful mix of happy-amazing-get his ass, Danny sent a gentle nudge back.

Mischief-secrets-should I?

Felt Jason hesitate. Didn’t have to look at him to know the calculations he’d be running. Jason knew his family best. Would know how careful they needed to be.

Mischief-glee-fucking do it.

Maybe they were bad influences on each other.

And, well, it was unofficially Bully Dick Day. Danny might have been a little less confident on his identification the other way around, but having just spent a couple hours with the guy?

Yeah, Danny would risk it. The look on Dick’s face was way worth it. His jaw dropped, and while Danny couldn’t see his eyes behind the little domino, that pretty much just made it better.

Dick’s head turned to Jason and Jason sighed, raising his hands.

“He told me he knew on the way into the closet. Fucked if I know how.” So they weren’t just dropping the Ghost King thing. Good to know.

Danny just grinned. He’d seen plenty of Gotham’s message boards and while he’d never cared, he’d heard the theories.

Especially Nightwing’s. Even if the actual poster was a little… fruit loopy. And thought Nightwing was Condiment King’s alter ego.

“The butts match. And I mean, I was just hanging out with you for like an hour. Doing a different voice isn’t really changing much, y’know?” Which was technically all true.

Pretty much every one of the Waynes mysteriously disappearing wasn’t all that subtle either, but he’d point that out when there were more of them around to be ashamed of themselves.

Dick’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he visibly shook himself and closed it. The eye slits on the domino narrowed, and yeah, Danny wasn’t going to resist that one.

“Are you fucking serious? The mask makes faces too? How the hell did you get it to do that?” He asked, rising on tiptoes to wave a hand in front of Dick’s face.

Signal was trying not to laugh, arms folded as he leaned back against the small table.

“Are you going to tell anyone?” He asked like he already knew the answer, checking something off on a list.

This was going better than Danny thought. Good vibes.

Danny shrugged and stuffed his hands in his jacket pocket, grinning.

“Who would believe me? It’s fine, you guys are gonna get like, 30 seconds into googling me and find my old secret identity anyway. I used to go by Phantom,” he added in case it made Dick feel better.

Poor guy was clearly still having a crisis. Maybe they didn’t have their own Wes Weston here and hadn’t been outed before.

He just stared at Danny for a moment longer, then sighed heavily and ran both hands through his hair. Not much point in continuing to pretend, even if no one had said the words “yes you are right.”

It wasn’t like Danny had said the words “you are Dick Grayson”. Plausible deniability all round.

“Just pinky swear you were never a villain,” Dick finally sighed, holding out a hand, pinky extended.

Danny obediently locked pinkies, snickering as he thought about Dan. Technicalities.

“I pinky swear I, specifically, in this timeline, have never been a villain,” he agreed. The overly specific wording didn’t seem to bother anyone.

Maybe fighting yourself from the future was just something all vigilantes had to do. He was pretty sure he’d heard something about the Justice League and time travel before.

Not paid attention to it, but he heard it.

Dick then turned and got Jason in a headlock, noogie-ing him.

“And you have to stop giving the lot of us heart attacks,” he declared, flipping over Jason’s back and away when Jason grabbed for him.

Danny snickered as the tension left the room, Jason clearly considering continuing the chase. Then he just shrugged, dropping down onto one of the two couches and waving to Signal.

“Danny, this is Signal, apparently you’ve almost met before?”

That caught Signal’s attention and he cocked his head, question all over his face. Danny grinned.

“You were the first vigilante I saw in Gotham. Like, 8 months ago, after that thing at the mall where you were teaching the kids to do backflips.”

He saw the moment Signal placed it, nodding and grinning. He held out a hand and Danny shook it.

“Nice to remeet you then, Danny. Jason’s told us nothing at all about you,” he added, grinning over at Jason. Who flipped him off.

“You call yourselves detectives, you’d get bored if I didn’t give you enrichment one way or another,” he refuted and Danny cackled.

“Oh, is that all I am? Enrichment?” He teased and Jason grinned at him.

“Was there another reason you were riding Croc like a rodeo bull?” He asked back. Danny raised his hands, still grinning.

“Yeah, alright. I guess I don’t mind being enrichment for your bored detectives,” he agreed, grinning at the two costumed heroes.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he paused, pulling it out to check it. Tuck had texted.

‘$50 for you two to disappear out a window’

Stifling a snicker, Danny tossed his phone to Jason and returned his attention to the heroes.

“So, was there anything you guys wanted from getting us away, or were you just doing us a solid?” He asked casually. He’d disappear out a window for way less than $50. If Jason was down.

From his snort of laughter, yeah, he was.

Dick gave his phone a slightly suspicious look, then shrugged cheerfully.

“Well, we could also try and find Jay a new shirt before we get back out there if you wanna catch the rest of the show?” He offered.

As tempted as Danny was to ask where the fuck they’d find a new shirt at a party venue… they had shit to do.

Well, they could find shit to do. Same difference.

Jason rolled easily to his feet tossing Danny his phone back. He totally didn’t almost drop it.

“Nah, we’re probably gonna dip. Better for Sam if we mysteriously disappear together and you guys can go catch the show,” he explained with a slight shrug.

Dick’s mouth opened and closed a few more times, then he grinned and shook his head. Obviously a man who knew the finer points of escalating a situation.

“Steph’s recording, if you wanna catch up later?” He offered instead and Jason snickered and nodded.

“Okay. Don’t have my bike today, Danny, so can you sort out transport?” He asked and it took Danny a second to work out what he meant.

He’d come in the Manson’s limo. But Jason didn’t mean a vehicle type of ride.

Eh, why not give the bats something else to wonder about? There was only so long they’d be confused by his more useful powers.

He had to get the good times in while he could.

He kinda missed the old days, sometimes. No one expected a dead hero to have a living alter ego, so he’d flown under the radar with basically no effort.

Alright, the old days had also not included an inquisitive and protective bat clan sniffing around because he was friends with their own dead guy.

Jason had only died a year after him though. Maybe it could have… man, how different would his life had been if he’d known it wasn’t just him and Vlad and Dani at fifteen?

But he might not have been able to help Jason back then. Just the thought of trying to guide someone else while his ice core formed made him flinch.

No thank you, that would have fucking sucked. It was probably for the best that things had happened like this.

If it wasn’t, a certain nosey fucking regent would have pulled his thumb out of his ass and poked Danny in Jason’s direction years ago. He certainly seemed to like the guy enough.

Today though, Danny crossed to the window and slid it open, hopping up to take a seat on the sill. They weren’t too far off the ground here, so it’d be an easy enough slide.

The snow might have been more of a problem, but it wasn’t like he’d be walking for long. It wasn’t deep anyway, just a couple of inches out here.

He dropped carefully down, turned and grinned back through the window.

“Alright Jay, your turn!”

Jason was already there, snickering as he climbed carefully over the sill. Danny could still just about see Dick and Signal around his shoulders, so he figured fuck it.

Held out his arms.

Jason didn’t notice right away, but hesitated the second he did. It was like Danny could see the cogs turning inside his head, a faint rush of pink rising in his cheeks.

Jason really did have the cutest blush. Danny hoped he’d see a lot more of it.

He waggled his eyebrows at Jason, holding his arms out.

“C’mon, I’ve got you,” he prompted cheerfully, and saw the exact moment when Jason figured “fuck it”.

The window being lower worked against them there, Jason still being a good chunk taller than Danny, so the positioning was a little awkward. Finally Jason just sighed, gave Danny a look, and shifted most of his weight out the window.

“If you drop me I’ll kick your ass,” he warned and Danny grinned, stepping closer and slipping his arms in under Jason’s knees and back.

“Wasn’t even thinking it until you said that,” he pointed out and Jason groaned, but let himself drop into Danny’s arms.

Despite hefty temptation, Danny did not drop him. He gave Signal and Dick a cheery nod and walked away, princess carrying a snickering Jason through the snow.

Once they were almost but not quite out of sight, he took off.

“So, where we going?” He asked Jason, who looked a little uncomfortable being carried, but hadn’t stopped snickering yet.

It was probably the whole “not seeming weak” thing again. Or it could be the flying. He and Jason had flown in the Zone, but that wasn’t really the same.

The bigger man hesitated for a moment, then shrugged.

“I could honestly go for something else to eat,” he offered and Danny hummed thoughtfully.

The gala food had been good, but really not up to a half ghost appetite.

“Yeah, I could eat. We should also talk about the whole bomb thing,” he added more reluctantly, not wanting to kill the mood, but… well.

They were still in Gotham. The literal same shit could pop up tomorrow too.

Jason stilled in his arms, his aura suddenly nothing but dread. Danny squeezed him in a little tighter, blanketing him in comfort-acceptance-warmth.

“Doesn’t have to be today,” he said softly, felt something in Jason relax. Felt the pit curl in reluctance-anger-pleading-help.

It made him hold Jason all the closer, holding down the comforting trills his core demanded. No, dropping a startled Jason in mid air would help no one.

But Danny would help them. Both of them. Help the pit fix whatever had been done to all that ectoplasm, and help Jason get his life back.

What was left of it anyway. It was the least he deserved.

**

Inside the quieter backroom, Nightwing and Signal exchanged looks.

“Did he just…” Signal started and Nightwing sighed, looking as weary as he’d ever seen the older hero.

“It’s been the kind of night where I’m just not gonna ask,” Nightwing said dryly, rolling his shoulders and glancing around the room, “Danny seems to think we’ll work it out eventually.”

Signal shook his head, snickering softly. It wasn’t that he’d really had time to form any expectations from how Jason had described the guy, but Danny…

Yeah, Danny was pretty much exactly what he’d expect so far. An egregious little shit whose sense of humour fit Jason’s perfectly.

He’d have to hurry to get on their side of the inevitable prank war. Shouldn’t be that hard; Narrows and Crime Alley stuck together.

Nightwing leaned in abruptly then, his voice low. Back to serious hero time.

“So, you get more of a read on him alone?” He asked quietly.

Signal paused, brows furrowing under his helmet as he ran back through their minor interactions thus far. He still had the beginning of a headache dancing around from the windows, but…

He’d gotten a pretty good look at just Danny, on the walk from the hall back here and while he was teasing Dick.

Finally he shrugged.

“Honestly? No fuckin’ clue. He barely even registered an aura at all, I don’t think he could be bright enough to flare me out?” Not that it had happened before, but the kid barely glowed.

Most metas at least had enough of an aura to give him some kind of guess about their powers. Colour, shape, the way it moved, it was usually pretty obvious even for the weaker ones.

“So you don’t think he’s particularly powerful?” Nightwing asked, clearly adding it to his own mental notes. Hey, if it meant Duke could skip the paperwork on this run…

He shifted into proper report mode, straightening and turning to face Dick full on, voice lower and more serious. Nightwing obligingly flipped his computer up.

“Either he’s not a dangerous threat from powers alone, or he has serious control over the amount of energy he emits. If you guys hadn’t said anything, I might not even have pegged him as a meta. I did notice something though,” he added with a slight frown.

Nightwing typed a moment longer then glanced up and nodded for him to continue. Signal sucked in a breath.

He didn’t… well, he didn’t like discussing peoples’ auras, outside of a case. It was kinda invasive, especially for people he actually knew in day to day life.

Not least because he didn’t want other people trying to over analyse it. It wasn’t like he got a detailed rundown or list of descriptions; it was just a feeling. A light, a colour.

But this one felt important.

“Jason’s aura. It usually has this… red kinda funk clouding over it. Sometimes it’s thick and murky, and that seems to be when he’s… having a bad day. It’s always kinda red though. But today, it was just… clear. Soft and yellow. Whatever Danny’s doing with the pit, I think it’s working.”

Nightwing’s expression visibly softened, drifting almost all the way back into Dick before he got control again. He nodded, entering the data and then giving Signal a cheeky grin.

“I wouldn’t say you’re fully off the hook for your report, Signal, but if you wanna head out you could probably finish the rest in time for bed,” he teased and Signal rolled his eyes.

And his shoulders a couple times, posture relaxing out of the debriefing stiffness.

“Fuck off. I’m not missing whatever other bullshit you lot are getting up to tonight, fill me in on the way back to the hall.”

He’d be tired tomorrow, but he had too many questions to sleep anyway. They were a full family of nosey bastards - sorry, detectives, and he wasn’t waiting twelve hours for the details.

Not with practically all his siblings visibly sparking off with glee. There was a fuckery afoot, and that was worth a late night.

Nightwing snickered but nodded, tapping his computer closed and heading for the door.

“Short forms of course, but you’ve got the basics,” he agreed, and Signal chuckled, moving to follow.

He’d gotten plenty of pieces over the comms on his way in, but none of them were particularly coherent.

This was already a whole lot more interesting than what he’d been led to expect from a Gotham gala. Hopefully only showing up in costume wouldn’t count as actually attending.

He was still going for that record, Jason’s new boyfriend notwithstanding.

“Oh, and I think Tim’s falling in love.”

Wait.

“What now?”

**

Bruce was doing his best to keep up with events in the entry hall, but the rapidly rising lump on his head now throbbed with Samantha Manson’s every screamed curse, and he’d let himself be led away.

Someone had found him a chair closer to the back hall, a glass of water, and Stephanie had made her way over with an ice pack and a deeply amused smile.

Probably at the dramatics still ongoing around the closet. She had given him a few tests and declared it a mild concussion, most eyes still firmly fixed on the Mansons.

She wouldn’t smile like that at his pain. Unless she had been the cause. But he would be fine, so he was happy that she wasn’t fussing or worrying over him.

He supposed.

Sam not only had impressive volume, but an extensive vocabulary. Bruce’s attention occasionally faded in and out, making him miss some words, but Steph’s reactions were enough to clue him in.

The young lady had somewhat moved on from what Danny and Jason had actually done now that neither of them were present, and was now roundly denouncing men in general, her parents’ preferences in specific, and the historical trend of mistresses.

Bruce might almost think he was imagining the last one, but it was quite the impassioned rant and Steph at least was definitely following it.

Samantha Manson was a very opinionated young lady, with an extremely firm sense of justice. Maybe she would have been good for Jason he mused morosely, pressing the ice to his head.

And then the hall rang with an ominous silence.

Bruce’s head snapped up, ignoring the immediate twinge of pain, and he looked around sharply for what had captured her attention.

Ah. Nightwing and Signal had returned.

Alone. He perked up a little, hoping this might be his chance to speak with Jason.

Hopes that were immediately dashed when Nightwing caught his eye and minutely shook his head.

What?

Where was Jason? What could possibly have happened to him on the way to get a new shirt?

He couldn’t have some kind of venereal disease already, could he?

The swirling confusion definitely came from his head injury and he took another careful sip of water with Steph’s prompting, unsure of when she’d moved to steady him.

His boys had moved away, closer to the mother daughter drama but before Bruce could try to rise, young Sam saw fit to fill him in on what they’d said. At volume.

“They fucking LEFT?!”

The crowd parted immediately, eyes darting between the Manson heiress and Bruce himself, hungry for some kind of reaction from him.

At least he didn’t have to pretend to look confused. Maybe the head wound was a blessing in disguise.

Nightwing was definitely still enjoying himself far more than he had any right to be. His Dickiebird could always find the bright side in any situation…

Sucking in a breath, he let the Brucie mask fall fully into place, relaxing his facial features.

He may need an MRI when they got back to the cave. Just to check for any internal damage.

Steph leaned helpfully down, blocking him from view from about half the crowd to stage whisper,

“They said Jason and Danny climbed out the window, Brucie,” she said sweetly, and Bruce just about resisted dropping his head to thump into her hand.

That would not make his headache any better.

Of course they climbed out the window. Of course they did.

The gala had been Jason’s idea, hadn’t it? He’d wanted to be reintroduced to society so he could do things under his own name.

In all fairness, Bruce hadn’t checked that the first thing he wanted to do in his own name wasn’t cause a massive scandal. He probably should have.

If Jason thought he’d be avoiding this talk just by skipping out tonight, he had another thing coming. Bruce would rather do it as civilians but he’d hunt Jason down in his mask if he had to.

He’d never been unreasonable when bringing his children to galas; they weren’t dress up dolls to be seen and not heard and oh boy they all knew it. There just had to be some standards.

If Jason wanted to sneak away and have sex at a gala he could at least actually sneak. There were plenty of places to go without the risk of being caught that weren’t the closet just off the main hall.

The back rooms weren’t even that much farther away.

Maybe he’d have to give Jason a talk on appropriate gala behaviour. He hadn’t been to one since he… in a long time, he might not remember.

Maybe he should give Jason a sex talk. Had he given any of them a sex talk? He must have done. Surely.

Dick must know. He’d had plenty of girlfriends. Boyfriends. And… shorter encounters.

What if he hadn’t though.

Maybe he’d have to do it again. To be safe. Maybe Alfred would give them the one he’d given Bruce.

He could feel his thoughts spiralling away out of control.

Sam had reached new levels, possibly prompted by his lack of reaction to the news. Even Bruce had never heard half the words coming out of her now, some of which felt like they crackled in his head.

Just what he needed.

She’d also moved on to roundly denouncing the concept of virginity as a tool to control people with wombs. Selina would have loved having her around the house.

Steph was certainly enjoying herself, now cheering Sam on any time she stopped for breath. That also wasn’t helping his head, but he enjoyed seeing her happy too much to say.

Steph had never really come under his wing the way his other Robins had. She held herself apart, “family friend” more than family for a long time… possibly because of the history between her and Tim.

She hadn’t stood a chance against Dick. He wore people down like a cheerful, gentle waterfall, and once he claimed a sibling it was over.

He’d joke about Dick taking his adoption problem but even he could admit Dick did it better. He was just so good at affection. It came naturally to him.

Bruce was so proud of him. Of all the kids who’d taken up a mask to stand beside him. His babies.

He could feel his throat closing, choking up with tears and hurriedly forced them down. THAT was not going in any of the papers.

Whatever other disaster there was, no one would say he was anything but proud of his baby birds. At least he had the head injury to blame for his maudlin thoughts.

Casting around the room, he clocked someone checking their phone and squinted for the time. Barely past 9pm.

It felt like this gala had been going on for weeks, but there were still hours to go. And he wouldn’t even get the chance to hear Jason’s report tonight, knowing his second son.

Well, he could at least get Steph’s report. Loathe as he was to pull her away when she was having so much fun, he needed someone’s opinion on the Fenton boy that he could trust.

Leaning forward, he touched her wrist gently, letting his expression muzzy further.

“Steph, I think perhaps I need a little space. Could you bring me to one of the back rooms?” He asked softly, gaze flicking meaningfully to hers.

She hesitated a moment, clearly torn between the continuing show and the knowledge she could get at least a little of her report out of the way early.

Finally she sighed and slipped his arm carefully around her shoulders.

“Yeah, come on old man. Let’s get you somewhere quiet,” she agreed, steadying him as he hauled himself to his feet.

They could record part of her report. She wouldn’t even have to write it down later.

At least something good could come out of all this.

**

Sam was burning with satisfaction as she slipped back into her parents’ rented limo. She’d finally gotten to say every single stupid thing she hated about the galas and a little more besides.

The looks on their faces as she’d torn apart their precious little Jason (who, yeah, she owed a really big favour; that disappearing act was the cherry on the cake)? Wonderful.

When she started in on their homophobic bullshit, the stupid frilly dresses, the way she wasn’t just a present they could wrap how they wanted and ignore who she was?

It felt fucking amazing. Every frustration she’d been holding onto since her teen years, every time they’d shared those “meaningful looks” over her head, every huge sigh, every time they tried to change who she was.

If they wanted a pet they should have got a chihuahua, not had a damn kid.

She’d gotten a round of applause for that one. She hadn’t been expecting any support except for her boys, but having the Waynes on her side had changed a lot.

She’d swear she’d even seen Nightwing clapping along, but he’d stopped before she looked back.

Guess vigilantes couldn’t be seen condoning any of the shit disturbing. Signal had definitely given her a subtle thumbs up though, and a secret high five when she finally let them lead her away to “calm down”.

She’d spent the rest of the evening with the Wayne affiliated girls and Tucker, texting occasionally with Danny and Jason to let them know how the meltdown had gone.

Apparently Tim had some kind of medical thing that had acted up during the attack so Dick had taken him home. Tucker was heartbroken and adorable, but Steph promised to bring his well wishes back to Tim’s bedside.

They kept him distracted anyway by making some videos for Tim to enjoy, both with and without the various Gotham vigilantes as they waited for the cops to finish clearing the goons out.

Sam was a little bummed that Black Bat hadn’t stuck around, but while the gala was big it also wasn’t gonna be the only target in town.

Nightwing did a flip for them anyway, without being asked. He was a dork. Signal was cool though, and he sounded really sincere when he wished Tim well.

They both seemed at least passingly familiar with the Waynes, but it was Gotham. Who wasn’t? Especially with the number of galas that’d bring them into close contact.

Sam hadn’t spent much time with any of them before, mostly because her parents kept her on a very short leash with the rogues around. Not tonight though, she thought with satisfaction.

No, tonight she’d had free reign, especially after their little dust up. Maybe it helped that she still was kind of hanging out with the Waynes’ associates?

She liked Steph and Cass a lot, for sure. Steph was funny in a bold, outrageous way, and while she dressed a little brightly for Sam’s tastes, it was at least a classy purple.

She liked noise and attention and making people laugh when they took a drink to see if she could get it to come out of their nose. Tucker? Easy prey. But she got Sam more than once.

Cass was quieter in every way, but just like Sam had thought it wasn’t because she had nothing to say. She just didn’t need to be noticed.

Steph and Tucker ducked through the hall, recording people saying specific words one word at a time to build Tim a message about what he was missing.

Sam and Cass went around stealing empty glasses until they could write “Get Well Soon Tim” on the floor in front of the bathrooms.

They attracted stares for the entire rest of the evening but not a soul over the age of thirty dared approach. It was the best gala evening Sam’d ever had.

Her favourite part though? That had to be the number of people who were Absolutely Convinced that Danny had to be one of the Robins.

He fit the profile, sure; black hair, blue eyes. Just like more than half the Waynes, and a weirdly large chunk of Gotham in general. He’d jumped in to wrestle Croc.

Imagine if they knew he actually was a vigilante - just not a living one.

She’d actually passed someone passionately explaining that “you never saw him and Red Robin at the same time”, like Red Robin hadn’t been fucking desperately trying to pull Danny off Croc’s back.

That? That they made a video compilation of on Steph’s phone. She was keeping hold of it til they could see Danny in person tomorrow, because no way was she missing his face.

The crowning glory was a lady with a fan earnestly insisting that Danny must be the Red Hood, Noted 6’ Tall Tank Of A Man, while Vlad fucking fumed in the background.

It was wonderful. She was going to play it at Vlad’s next run for mayor. And his birthday. And maybe every time she saw him for the rest of her life.

She’d also seen more than one person meaningfully approaching her parents from the corner of her eye. Among their other shenanigans.

She was fully expecting some form of lecture, maybe some more hysteria from her mother, but honestly? It would hurt them more than Sam to cut her off.

Sam could walk away from the Manson money tomorrow. The greenhouse and nursery might not cover her full rent, but she could move.

Pamela and Jeremy Manson, having to explain why their daughter was never seen with them again? After tonight? Social hell, especially for her mother.

Maybe Pam saw something of that future in the set of Sam’s shoulders, because the drive back to their hotel was almost completely silent, even through Gotham’s slow crawl of traffic.

Didn’t bother Sam. She was perfectly happy to relive some of their more pointed shenanigans, maybe debate asking Danny if they could call him RH whenever Vlad was around.

That’d be fun. Or Hoodie. He wore the damn sweaters enough, Vlad couldn’t prove that wasn’t what they meant.

They’d actually reached the hotel, Jeremy stepping out to deal with the valet when Pamela turned hesitantly to her daughter.

“Sammikins… darling… I know you had an awful evening,” (and how appropriate that her mom had completely missed her having some of the most fun of her life), “and I know you said you wouldn’t date men…”

Sam steeled herself, wondering if another rant might be in order. Her mom clearly noticed, raising a hand in immediate surrender,

“And I fully understand, it’s entirely your choice whether you ever change your mind or not,” she added quickly, and Sam’s shoulders settled somewhat reluctantly.

Pamela gave her a very soft, hopeful sort of smile.

“It’s just. You looked so happy when you were talking with Cassandra. I didn’t know you knew sign at all, so if you wanted to see her again while we’re here…” she wheedled, and something in Sam’s brain shut down.

“What?” She asked, genuinely dumbfounded.

Pamela raised both hands this time, looking actually… kind of contrite. Like she’d actually been listening to Sam’s rants.

Like Sam might have finally gotten through to her.

Like the woman who hadn’t let her bring her girlfriend to a gala was actually immediately moving on to pushing her at another woman.

What. The fuck.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured, darling, I know we got far too pushy when you met Jason, I just. We’ll be in town for another day. And you made a very sweet pair.”

The hope in her face was unmistakeable, and Sam found herself gaping. There were just. Too many questions, all forming up in her head.

She found the words for at least one just as her mother reached for the door, almost ending their moment.

“Wait. You mean you don’t mind that I’m a lesbian?” She asked suspiciously, brows drawing down as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

Pamela gave her a soft smile and gently cupped her cheek.

“Sammy, darling, I know we’ve been… pushing an image on you,” almost the same words Sam had used, and they clearly pained her, “but I would never reject you for who you loved.”

Which made absolutely no fucking sense.

“So why the hell wouldn’t you let me bring Valerie?” Sam demanded weakly, shoulders sagging as confusion warred with the sudden wash of tears threatening to break out.

Acceptance. Her mother was finally accepting her. In the one thing she hadn’t asked for or expected.

Pamela’s face immediately pinched at Val’s name and she huffed, drawing herself up and resettling in her seat like a broody hen.

Not accepting everything, then. No surprise there.

“I don’t mind if you date or marry a woman, darling, but I most certainly do not trust that young Gray woman. The way she cosied up to you and your friends when her father lost his position! Wealth comes with many detractors, Sammy, and sometimes that means people will try to prey on your gentle heart and use you for your money!”

Sam’s jaw dropped as Pamela talked, passion flaring up until Sam had some idea what the others had seen when she got going.

She wanted to beat her head against the window. It was like they’d gotten absolutely fucking nowhere.

“Val isn’t a fucking gold digger, Mom!” She argued with a frustrated groan, tossing her hands into the air.

Pamela sniffed, turning her nose up.

“She is not good enough for my baby girl. Honestly, what does she even do at school?”

“Not fuck strangers in the closet!” Sam snapped back, and Pamela glared at her. Then deflated with a soft sigh.

“I just want what’s best for you, Sammy. If you think it’s Valerie… I suppose I can try. But I will be talking to her,” she added sharply, that Manson family steel shining through again, “just to let her know that I will be watching, and if she hurts you she will have me to deal with!”

The thought of the Red Huntress dealing with her mother almost made Sam laugh. As if the older woman would stand a chance.

But it was a compromise, if not an actual apology. She could work with that.

And, actually, while her mom was apparently in a compromising mood…

“And I can choose my dress for the next gala?” Sam asked quickly, again interrupting her mother’s move for the door.

Pamela hesitated for a long moment, then gave her daughter a wary look.

“So long as there are no spiders…” she said slowly.

“I want that in writing,” Sam warned sharply and Pamela sighed again, then nodded.

“By tomorrow morning, dear,” she agreed.

Sam’s triumphant grin carried her all the way into the elevator, up the stairs, and back to her bedroom where she pulled out her phone to update the group chat.

‘2Goth2Glorious: you guys aren’t going to fucking believe what my mom just said.’

**

“Huh,” Danny chuckled, glancing at his phone and then dropping it on a table and stepping over the back of Jason’s couch to slide down and sit like a fucking animal.

Already sprawled on the couch, Jason tipped his head back to frown over at him. They were in one of Jason’s less shitty safe houses this time (and Danny’s relief that he didn’t actually live in the first one was hilarious) after raiding a Denny’s.

And a convenience store. And a Batburger. For once Jason really didn’t feel bad about how much he ate; at least he chewed.

He’d swear Danny unhinged his jaw to just inhale an entire double cheeseburger. Maybe that was all Sam meant by “Jawbreaker”…

Jason wasn’t gonna think about that though.

Nope.

They were in a much more comfortable living room now, with actual decent furniture, and Danny was climbing it like a mountain goat. And being cryptic.

The first thing he’d done after walking through the doors was drop their food on the table. The second was drop his pants, kicking them away and throwing the tie and jacket after them.

Jason could sympathise, the monkey suits sucked and he’d abandoned jacket and tie not long after. Not the pants yet. But the sweatpants in the bedroom were calling to him.

“What? He prompted Danny instead, pushing over the second controller. Mariokart. The traditional way the bats kept score.

Easier to track than the number of crimes that didn’t happen. No one else liked his idea of counting heads.

Danny scooped it up and settled in, immediately picking his racer and getting comfy.

Baby Mario. Interesting.

Jason mained Peach, mostly so Dick couldn’t.

“So apparently we read the whole gala thing wrong,” he said casually, just as the countdown to begin the race began, “the Mansons aren’t homophobic.”

Classic distraction techniques. Motherfucker. Jason was so focused on gunning the engine and blasting off the starting line it took him a moment to process the words.

He had to actually glance over at Danny at that, brows furrowed, and missed an item drop.

Doublefucker.

“Fuck off.”

Danny snickered, effortlessly drifting into a turn.

“No shit. They’re trying to set Sam up with Cass,” he added as proof, and Jason snapped his attention back to the game.

He could play this with Damian standing on his shoulders and Steph tickling him, fuck Danny and his conversational bomb dropping.

First time he could say he’d side with the elder Mansons though.

“They were cute,” he offered with a slight shrug, casting back. Sam and Cass hadn’t interacted much, but Sam knowing ASL was a good sign.

No pun intended. He wasn’t Dick.

Danny snickered again and leaned sharply to the left as he skidded around another turn.

“And Sam woulda killed for a chance before Val. She learned sign language to try and talk to her, always said it was because she seemed like the only tolerable person in the room. That’s Sam for “she’s really pretty”,” he added slyly, dropping a red shell in Jason’s path.

Triplefucker. Jason skidded for a double set of items, then burnt a few coins to speed back up.

Digested new information. Both about the elder Mansons and Sam herself. But he didn’t have enough yet.

“So why wouldn’t they let her bring Val?” He asked instead, popping up a pirahna plant as they approached another turn. Not a great item, so he might as well make space.

“They think Val specifically is a gold digger,” Danny actually cackled this time, shaking his head and still not missing a beat.

He was a pretty good player. But they’d see how good he was under pressure later.

For now he snorted most of a laugh through his nose, shaking his head.

“Delightful. Bet Val will love that,” he snickered, hitting another double item. Mushrooms. Fucked again.

“It’s practically a mark of quality,” Danny agreed, grinning broadly, and dropped a row of bananas across the whole path. Dodgy little fucking shit.

Paused, then skimmed half way across the road for another double item box.

“By the way, do you mind if Val knows you’re a halfa?”

Jason, just about to launch a brand new green shell, frowned. They’d definitely been over this.

“I thought you already texted your team’s group chat?” It had been the most efficient way to share info with everyone who needed it.

And they’d shared more information since, mostly planning for the gala tonight. He’d kind of assumed the lot of them already knew.

He’d figured he’d meet Val and Jazz eventually, the same way Danny was probably gonna run into B’s brood again at least one more time.

Probably more now that Dick knew how much he liked puns. But Bludhaven was a ways out of Gotham, so Jason’s sanity might survive.

Danny shrugged, now glancing at Jason from the corner of his eye, and Jason took advantage to nail him with the shell. Fucking deserved it.

“Yeah but Val wasn’t in at the time, new phone- oh you cheating motherfucker!”

“Look me in the eye and say you wouldn’t have done the exact fucking same,” Jason taunted, not taking his eyes off the screen this time.

Fuck the other laps, the only thing that counted was who crossed that final finish line first. They were close, both neck and neck and if Danny had an item worth a damn he’d have used it.

Nor did Jason, but fuck it, who cared?

Just as they reached the final stretch, that dreaded alert popped up.

A blue shell. Whoever got hit, the other would win.

Half the family would have backed off, hit their breaks and let Jason take the hit. Because Jason? Jason never backed off.

He’d race the damn blue shell to the finish line and if he couldn’t beat that he didn’t want the race. And lucky him, he had coins to burn.

Danny hit his boosters right alongside Jason, the two of them careening towards the line. In the corner of his eye Jason could see the blue shell closing in, eating up the map behind them.

Reaching out suddenly, he caught Danny by the face and pushed just as the younger man shoved a foot into his other elbow.

The blue shell hit, explosion spinning both their carts to a stop. Before they could recover, a third cart sped past them, finishing the race.

Danny groaned, dropping his controller as the rest of the players passed them.

“FUCKING baby park!” He swore, and Jason nodded, flicking his controller to finish the race before tossing it down.

Then he turned back to Danny and shrugged. Ultimately he just… didn’t really care. Sam and Tucker had gone over well.

As prickly as he usually was about sharing intimate details with strangers, his death was basically common knowledge. Now, so was his revival.

So what if another stranger from a small town knew he’d fucked that up too? Precedent suggested she wouldn’t give a fuck, and it felt really, really good not having to hide.

“Yeah, I don’t care if Val knows. Do we really wanna add her back to the group chat right after the gold digger thing though?” He’d never met Valerie, even in text, but he knew she could be hot headed.

Half the stories of her trying to kill Danny proved that; it was how Danny survived.

Jason could relate. He’d been too fucking annoying to kill since he first put on a cape.

Well. Almost too annoying.

Danny just shrugged, shaking his head and rolling off the couch to grab his phone again.

“Sam’ll have told her in a private chat. Legal permission to tag her back in, or do you wanna tell her face to face?” He asked, and Jason had to wonder how much he’d talked to the others about it.

Mostly because Danny, thinking something through? He didn’t need to have known the guy this long to know that didn’t happen.

How the fuck did you even tell anyone something like this? He still had no idea how he was going to explain to his family that he was only mostly dead.

Maybe a stranger to practice on would be a good idea, and Val at least had the benefit of context. Knowing what a halfa was had put her one over him until last week.

Yet when he had an easy option, letting the others explain for him, he couldn’t help reaching for it. He didn’t even fucking know what it meant to him yet; how was he supposed to explain to anyone else?

And hey, Danny’s “new halfa just dropped” was elegance and perfection. If only he could just toss that in the family chat and call it good.

He shot Danny a thumbs up, scooping up the controller he’d dropped and tapping back to a new game screen.

“Go for it. You fill her in and I’ll get us a new game?” He offered, part of him resenting the vulnerability. The part that he kind of hated knowing was all his, and not the pit.

It wasn’t like he was even asking for help. He was delegating.

There was nothing fucking wrong with asking for fucking help. He wasn’t fucking alone anymore. He didn’t fucking have to be.

He was allowed to have friends who cared about him, and he was allowed to let them help with the things he didn’t know how to do.

His aura must have been a goddamn mess because Danny didn’t even open the chat, just hopped the back of the couch again and shoved his feet in Jason’s lap.

Soft-calm-understanding-been there.

Jason glared down at socked toes. More than anything else, he fucking hated bringing the mood down. Felt like it was all he did some days.

Socked toes scrunched to wave up at him. It looked so fucking bizarre he had the sudden urge to laugh, despite the mess in his head.

Well, he’d already ruined the fucking mood. It was easier to talk to Danny’s toes rather than look up, habits he’d learned to cope with surging green that was conspicuously absent now.

No pit rage. Just himself, still fucked up, still unable to look someone else in the eye when he was sure he’d see pity reflected back.

“Why do we need to talk about my death?” He asked the socks quietly, hands still curled around a game controller. Knowing the answer couldn’t be good.

“Because the first time you transform, you’re going to look the way you did when you died.” Fucking Danny scrunched his toes in time with his voice like the sock was the one talking.

That did knock a shaky snicker out, and Jason gave the man himself a half hearted glare. But it did suck the seriousness out of the situation.

Cuz yeah, that? That wasn’t a situation he was going to think about right now.

“Well fuck,” seemed to sum it up, and he stared back down at Danny’s feet. Couldn’t bring himself to face the sympathetic smile.

It didn’t help that Danny was the only person in the world who’d understand. Who’d already faced the horror of his own death, and now popped in and out of a ghost form like a cape.

Socked feet patted the top of his thigh.

“Yeah. You’ll be able to change it, and with some practice you can accessorize however you want just by thinking about it. But. Yeah. It’s going to suck,” Danny explained softly, thankfully abandoning the sock talking.

Jason chanced a glance up from the corner of his eye.

“How did…” how did you handle it? The words stuck somewhere below his collarbone, wedged sideways in his throat.

It didn’t seem to matter. Danny was good at hearing the ghosts of words he couldn’t say.

“Well, I transformed the first time the day I died, so it wasn’t like the memory had time to percolate,” Danny explained airily.

Like that was a good and normal sentence to say. Snorting a laugh, well aware that’s what Danny was going for, Jason pinched one of Danny’s toes.

The whole foot jerked back, coiling protectively. Motherfucker was ticklish. Yeah, Jason remembered that from their first wrestling session.

The temptation to knock Danny back to the floor and tickle him breathless was strong. It’d end the conversation, distract them both, get a more cheerful evening back on track.

Hell, they still had to tease Tucker about his massive crush on Tim. They were young, half alive, and had a truly obscene amount of snacks to get through.

They had every reason in the world to have a good night.

Just, y’know, the lingering spectre of Jason’s death between them. He’d never actually spoken about it to anyone, except to rub it in B’s face.

He’d made a joke a little too close once and watched Dick’s face crumple.

Fuck, he didn’t even like thinking about the event itself. Crawling out of his grave, well, he didn’t actually remember that.

Didn’t remember anything until Talia pulled him from a pool of bubbling green. Not the way he remembered what had come before.

Danny’s foot rose to poke gently into his face and Jason reared back, train of thought effectively derailed and he swatted for Danny’s ankle.

“What the fuck, dude?” He asked, giving Danny a mock glare as he knocked the foot away.

Danny was watching him just a little too closely for the casual smile on his face, or the lazy shrug.

“Well, you didn’t listen to your fucking name,” he pointed out, and it was news to Jason that anyone had been saying it. Obviously.

Then Danny sat up and moved closer, leaning in shoulder to shoulder with Jason.

“You don’t have to tell me. But. I’m gonna be with you when it happens, unless you don’t want me to be. And I need to know how bad I need to kick Batman’s ass.”

The last knocked a proper startled laugh out of Jason, but he didn’t move away. It. Helped having Danny close.

Close enough he didn’t have to look at his face. Close enough to feel his admittedly lacking body heat as comfort. Six of one.

“Pretty sure Sam has the brutalizing father figures part on lock already,” he said instead of asking, grin solidifying as he remembered the look on Bruce’s face.

It was never Bruce’s ass he’d wanted kicked. Alright, that was a lie, but it wasn’t Bruce he blamed for his death. That… that had always been on him.

He’d just expected B to save him like he’d done on all Jason’s other fuck ups.

Danny snickered along with him, reaching for Jason’s old controller and settling in.

“I see you still not saying Bruce is Batman,” he said innocently, and Jason fought free of the ghosts in his head.

Might as well kick their king’s ass at Mariokart before wrestling the ghosts of his past.

And if they were sat much closer, much better able to jostle each other, that’d work to his advantage. He had more bulk to use.

“Bruce knows Batman,” he repeated instead, clicking through to choose a map. Danny snickered again.

“Sam thinks Bruce is Batman’s sugar daddy,” he said innocently, just as the countdown ended.

Again.

Jason dropped his controller and lunged for his phone. Fuck the race, THAT was going straight to the family group chat.

**

Tim threw his domino aside as he stormed into the bat cave, slamming into the chair in front of the batcomputer. His fingers hit the keys before his ass hit the seat, clacking furiously.

Dick and Damian exchanged glances and shrugs, entering more slowly. Duke had skipped the cave altogether, heading straight to bed.

The actual hand off from the gala had gone smoothly. All the goons were in custody, and Croc had gone quietly. Probably because all four of them were still around, but that didn’t matter.

Tim ignored the company. It was still bothering him. He didn’t know what they’d missed when they’d raided the Riddler, and the mystery case hadn’t helped.

He’d gone to look at it when Nightwing and Signal returned to the dining hall; Damian had been right, it needed the building’s power supply.

And Dick had also been right - it was some kind of games cabinet. He’d gotten the touch screen off without setting off any of the traps and powered independently it did indeed produce a riddle.

Tim hadn’t bothered solving it, just gone back into the guts to trace what was supposed to be the threat. It wasn’t like Riddler not to include a backup battery, at least to prevent tampering.

(And alright, Tim had found and removed two, but that didn’t count. They were easy. Easy was how they’d missed something on the raid. Easy was hiding something.)

The fucking case was empty. There were spaces wired to take nearly double the explosives they’d found, and there was nothing in it. It just didn’t make sense.

As far as Damian cared, Tim was just getting up his own ass again. The brat had said as much on their way home, while Tim worked furiously at the tablet.

Tucker Foley had broken it open straight to the OS, all memory and data laid bare, except for one encrypted folder. That was too easy too, but Tim couldn’t fault his work.

It was perfect but for that one folder. Tim could trace back how he’d done it, the hack as clean and easy as one of his own.

And he’d done it with enough spare time to get right through to summer in Stardew Valley. While Tim fretted in the next room searching for the damn tablet.

That meant he’d given up on the folder, or been the one to place it. That was a clue, but if that was the case it wouldn’t help him solve the Riddler mystery.

Sighing to himself, he opened a connection through to Oracle on his comm.

“Hey O. Busy?”

“Not more than most nights,” came the easy reply. As usual, Babs sounded like she was calling from a LAN party, not rewriting the traffic grid.

Unless Bluebird was done already. Could be. Tim hadn’t checked.

“There’s a mystery folder on the Riddler tablet. I think Foley left it, but I don’t have time to break his encryption. Is Batwoman with Nygma?” He asked, running both hands through his hair.

Dick was hovering. Probably worried. He could stuff that in his own ass.

Barbara chuckled, and beside him the tablet screen sprang to life.

“Batwoman dropped him off before your guys came for Croc. He’s very upset, apparently. Sure you don’t want to take another run at the tablet? I hear your flirting has been adorable.”

Tim shot Dick a glare. Dick, entirely unrepentant, gave him worried puppy eyes.

“I have a boyfriend,” Tim grumbled, glancing back at the tablet again. Glaring at his brother was a waste of time when there was a puzzle to solve.

“So don’t marry Foley. Your nerd flirting is still adorable,” Babs shot back immediately. Tim could practically see her hands hovering over her own keyboard, waiting for his go ahead.

Riddler was actually in custody this time. That probably meant the threat was neutralised, at least for now. It also meant Red Robin could pay him a visit.

Red Robin could go check over the hideout. There might be some more answers there too.

His hands stilled on the keys, body tensing. A large hand landed on his shoulder and Dick leaned in.

“Actually, can I put a rush on that? Danny seemed pretty sure we’d learn more about him overnight. This’d explain it,” he added, tapping the tablet screen.

That caught Damian’s attention, the boy leaning back in from the locker room with his eyes narrowed.

“Does it pertain to his meta abilities?” He called, and Tim groaned, shoving both hands through his hair. Dick chuckled softly and gave him a gentle shake.

“Well it definitely has to do with him recognising us in costume, and I’m pretty sure he flew away, so I’m gonna say yes,” Dick agreed, and when the fuck had he been planning to mention that.

Tim’s neck cricked as he snapped his head around.

“He what?!” Danny had left maybe half an hour after the attack, at most. How the fuck had Tim missed so much?

Dick grinned down at him, still without shame, and one day Tim was damn well going to crack that facade. Possibly with his fist.

“You seemed so busy with the case, Red. I didn’t like to bother you.”

Damian materialised at their sides, glowering up at Dick too. It wasn’t all that often that they were on the same side but it wasn’t the kind of thing they could enjoy.

“Richard. He recognised you?” Damian asked sharply, and Dick sighed.

“Well he called me a fucking cop again and said the butts match, so I’m going with yeah. He seemed to think we would find something equally important on him though, and Jason didn’t seem concerned,” he explained a little less cheerfully.

Tim sucked in a deep, calming breath. Closed his eyes. And Damian snapped the question before he reached ten.

“So why do we not simply ask Todd?” The youngest growled, already reaching for his comm.

Dick shrugged.

“Go for it. He’s still with Danny, just pinged the group chat,” he added, raising his civilian phone to wiggle it.

Damian and Tim fell silent, both aware that Jason… well, for one would not react well to demands for information, no matter how much Danny helped with the pit.

And two… wasn’t likely to give them a full Danny download in Danny’s immediate presence. And they couldn’t swing by to ask, even if they did know where they were.

Sighing to himself, Tim pulled his phone out.

“O, if you could take a turn at the tablet hack I’m just gonna… check… Oracle check the group chat.” He pressed his lips together firmly, fighting back laughter.

All three heard Babs’ curious hum, keyboard clacking resuming a little slower than her usual. A one handed job while she checked.

Damian glared from Dick to Tim this time, then went back to the locker room for his own phone. Significant improvement from a year ago, where he’d have grabbed for Tim’s.

Fuck school, socialising him with Superboy the Younger was doing him good.

Tim’s head snapped up again, staring at Dick.

“Does the demon brat know what a sugar daddy is?” He hissed, and Dick’s eyes widened.

“Uh… dibs on not telling him.”

“You are the one he likes!” Tim hissed, Barbara’s snickering a new sudden baseline.

“And I’m keeping it that way,” Dick shot back, dancing away from the table, “you have nothing to lose!”

“Because his grandfather stole my fucking spleen, are you even Damian’s family if he hasn’t tried to stab you at least once?”

“Boys, boys,” Barbara cut in, still snickering, “think of it this way: do you want Jason to tell him?”

Both vigilantes turned back to the phone, where Damian’s icon was showing the distinctive three dots of a message in the making.

Tim glanced at Dick.

“Honestly? Kinda.” Better Jason than either of them, Jason was at least out of the immediate line of fire. And would probably weather Damian’s later vengeance attempts reasonably well.

Damian might have missed the original fireworks but he’d known Jason in the League; the fact that even he was wary of the pit rage said a lot.

But then, Damian had experienced the rage himself too.

Tim was kinda glad Ra’s hadn’t wanted to risk his mind to it. Would have been more glad if the old fucker had just left him alone instead of again, stealing his fucking spleen about it.

Wasn’t much of a surprise that Damian was stabby, honestly. But even he wouldn’t seriously pick a fight with Jason.

Nobody wanted to set off the rage that permanently broke him. Because that was what would happen if he ever did seriously hurt one of them again; Tim could see it.

Jason already thought he was broken. But they’d persuaded him he didn’t have to be. Putting one of them in the hospital, after all of his progress, would only confirm what he already believed.

Tim remembered the sharp, bleeding, fractured edges on the Red Hood he’d first met. He hadn’t seen that man in years.

He never wanted to see him again.

Not when he’d finally met his childhood hero, the Jason Todd he’d followed around with a camera in the night. Not when he finally had a Jason who called him his little brother.

They didn’t talk about it. But he could see it haunting behind Jason’s eyes some nights, a darkness different than when the pit was bad.

The pit’s anger spilled outwards, but Tim had learned to differentiate it from Jason’s. Jason’s anger spilled in, turned on himself. The kind of anger Tim was intimately familiar with.

Tim wouldn’t push. Not something so delicate. But one day, he’d really like some answers.

He’d like some damn answers about Riddler’s plans, Danny’s powers, and Tucker’s encrypted fucking file too though, and those were all a lot more urgent.

And why Killer Croc was in Gotham. And what Two Face wanted with Jason, not Red Hood. And what Killer Croc and Riddler wanted with Two Face.

And why Sam Manson’s grandmother knew Poison Ivy well enough to request a hit. What the hell was happening in Amity Park. If ghosts were actually-seriously-for-real-a-thing.

The speedsters were going to be intolerable if they presented that to the Justice League. Tim would definitely be hacking that footage with popcorn.

Heaving another sigh, he flopped back into the computer chair and just stared at the screens.

Alfred had made him weak. He’d been in bed less than thirty hours ago and his eyes were beginning to itch. But there was way, way too much to do for him to rest.

Scrubbing both hands down his face, he sat up again just as Babs let out a curious little “huh” over comms. That helped revive him.

“What’s up, O?” He asked, glancing back at Dick.

Some time while he was zoning out, the older had changed back into civvies and was leaning against the railing, checking his phone.

He must still have a comm in though, because he looked up too.

Why wasn’t he going back to Bludhaven? Another mystery for Tim’s eternally growing pile, but a minor one.

Babs was chuckling again, and the tablet screen flickered back to life.

“I got your folder open, RR. Very interesting encryption, the big bat isn’t going to be happy.” Babs sounded extremely pleased though.

“What did he use?” Tim asked idly, glancing down at the screen. Stilled. Was dimly aware of Dick moving curiously forward to peek at the tablet too.

There was only one thing in the encrypted folder, or at least one thing Babs wanted him to look at first. A simple text file.

‘To the Oracle. Love your work. Expressing my deepest admiration and eternal devotion. - TooFine’

And then an IP address that Tim couldn’t automatically place to a country. Was Tucker challenging Oracle?

Babs was talking again and Tim quickly refocused, already tapping the IP into the batcomputer.

“Three dates of my latest hacks into Lex Luthor, Vandal Savage, and the Legion of Doom. He even helpfully provided a hint in that Stardew Valley file.”

That caught Tim’s attention. He’d ignored the game, assumed the name was irrelevant.

“What’s the farm called?” He asked quickly, not wanting to scroll into the game to check.

Babs chuckled again, clearly back to work on one of the other problems.

“L85tH1t5. Or “Latest Hits”, for anyone that hasn’t used substitutions in a while. The kid’s good, and he’s been paying attention. The IP address has me in a private server, and it’s locked down with something I’ve never seen before. I think he wants to play a game.”

Tim’s brows furrowed, his attention refocusing on his own screens tracking the IP. It hadn’t even let him in.

“I’m blocked,” he admitted grumpily as Dick let out a low whistle, leaning back against the railing again.

“Must be a private invitation,” Babs teased, then sobered up. “I don’t think this is going to be the easy answers Nightwing’s looking for though. You’ll just have to run a search on Danny Fenton separately.”

Dick moved forward again, probably to lean over his shoulder or steal the keyboard, and Tim swatted him away.

“Wanna loop me in, O? I can get started on the server if you’re busy with the others.”

“Someone’s feeling left out,” Dick snickered, leaning on the back of Tim’s chair instead. Tim flipped him off.

“No need, Red Robin,” Babs replied, her own amusement just as clear as Dick’s. They were the worst. “It’s a quiet night for Gotham, I have time to flex a little.”

“Search Fenton,” Damian demanded, brows drawn down in a glower as he appeared beside the chair. Like that’d get him a big reaction.

Tim flipped him off too on principle, but sullenly pulled up a new window.

He didn’t feel left out. He wasn’t jealous. Tucker had been talking to him for half the gala, they’d had a great time and Tim really did like the guy.

They’d exchanged numbers and everything. He was gonna have to send over a real internship offer too.

Tucker hadn’t even met Babs. He was Tim’s friend.

Tim had a boyfriend. A wonderful boyfriend, whom he loved with all his heart. He wasn’t even lonely.

He just.

Didn’t see why Tucker would invite Oracle to his mysteriously secured server and not Tim.

**

By the time Bruce returned to the manor (and more importantly, to the cave) Tim was the only one down there.

No matter, Signal, Nightwing, and Robin had all had plenty of time to complete their after action reports. He could peruse those and prepare questions for later.

It was Tim he had wanted to talk to anyway. Whatever Tim had seen about Masters. About Danny Fenton.

Bruce headed over to the batcomputer, noting a cold mug of coffee that Tim somehow hadn’t finished. He’d been in for a while. And looked frustrated, not busy.

The perfect time to divert his attention for a report.

“Tim,” he said in greeting, brows drawing in as Tim turned a hazy glare on him.

He knew the boy had slept more this week than he usually did in a fortnight, but the bags under his eyes had barely lessened. Still, it had never affected his efficiency before.

“Your report on the gala. Particularly Masters and Fenton,” he prodded gently, and Tim groaned loudly, tugging at his hair.

“Honestly Bruce? Vlad’s a shifty son of a bitch that I wouldn’t trust as far as I could comfortably spit a rat, and Danny Fenton’s a fucking mystery. Who knows who we are, by the way.”

That was more than just concerning, and Bruce tensed. If Danny had approached Jason as a way to get to them…

“You’re sure?” He asked almost hopefully; he’d never actually had reason to doubt Tim. Who clearly also remembered that, from his archly raised brow.

“He called Dick out in costume. Hinted he’d done some vigilante work under the name “Phantom”, which I cannot find in any database anywhere, and I can’t find a damn thing about Amity Park from anyone who actually lives there ANYWHERE online.”

Tim spun back to the batcomputer, gesturing angrily at the three biggest screens. Bruce scanned them all, brows furrowing.

Tourist websites. An article about the “most haunted town in America”, clearly the hard earned result of their constant ghost claims, and… social media?

“They don’t have fucking Twitter, Bruce,” Tim growled, tapping through browser window after window. He’d clearly been doing this for a long time.

“No Facebook pages for restaurants, city hall, nothing. Except that Tucker showed me their weather station’s Facebook on his PDA. And that isn’t how fucking Twitter or Facebook WORK.” He slapped the keyboard, and the screen jumped.

Bruce carefully edged the cold coffee mug a little further away, but didn’t interrupt Tim’s rant.

“They don’t have a single server dedicated to one tiny town in Bumfuck, Illinois, to isolate their posts, or the kind of protections that would keep people from one town from connecting to the wider internet. It shouldn’t be possible! Nothing the government has on them even raises a blip but beyond those records, they’re just gone!”

Tim flipped quickly through various different government databases, too quickly for Bruce to do more than scan, but he didn’t need to.

Amity Park existed. There were a few accounts linked, email addresses, websites, that should have gone to city hall. The school board. Local businesses.

Tim clicked viciously on one of the links, and the window immediately blanked.

“Something is seriously fucking wrong with this town, Bruce,” Tim declared, the anger gone as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving only a dangerous sobriety in its place, “and we’ve been ignoring them.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, his concerns about Danny Fenton slotting neatly into a sudden, much larger concern.

Tim had pulled up the Justice League’s records on Amity Park. There were thousands of requests for help, every single one bearing the same status: Rejected.

Hundreds came from a single day, someone clearly hitting the button over and over and over again in a panic, desperate to get through.

And then nothing. Not a single request for years since. As if the residents had given up.

Bruce nodded to the screen.

“That cluster. I take it you’ve looked?” He asked tersely, slipping straight into Batman. Tim clicked a request at random.

“Not all of them,” he admitted bitterly, “but they’re pretty consistent.”

The panic was clear in the wording too, no attempt at spellchecking or grammar. Tim scrolled through the next few.

Key smashes. Curses, swearing, pleading for help. One phrase stuck out especially clearly to Bruce, repeated over and over.

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

What the hell had happened in Amity Park?

Anger firming his jaw, Batman reached for his Justice League comm.

“I need to speak to John Constantine. Now.”

—————————

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Next chapter:

[thee-horny-thicky]

Jammin'

Some weeks ago I did a headcanon of what I thought all the members of Taskforce 141 would listen to, and found myself choosing R&B as the genre of choice for them. So, I decided to turn my ending paragraph into a short one-shot :)

Note: I've never played Call of Duty and know nothing about the military. I'm merely a simp with some knowledge about the characters.

When you were first recruited by the 141, you didn’t know what to expect. The elite task force, though legendary, was shrouded in mystery. All you knew is that they always got the job done and left a trail of destruction and bloodshed in their wake. You were positive that some of their methods violated the Geneva Conventions. But, seeing as those they hurt often targeted innocent civilians, you didn’t feel much pity for those on the receiving end of the task force’s wrath.

You did, however, feel anxious when you were sent on your first mission, one the entirety of the 141 had to deal with. You knew the threat had to be massive for all five of you to go. Seeing as it dealt with bombs and crime families, you were right. Weeks of hard work later, you all were finally able to say the threat was eliminated.

Weeks of working without rest left you exhausted, but you were ecstatic that the job was finally done, and thankful that none of the team had been seriously injured. Everything had gone well, putting you in a jovial mood despite your tiredness.

The boys must’ve felt the same way, because the ride back to base was cheerier than expected. So cheery, that Soap had even begun to play music. You were out of enemy territory and in the sky, so the extra noise wasn’t that big of a deal, allowing you to focus on the choice of music. You couldn’t help but laugh as Soldier by Destiny’s Child echoed throughout the space.

Fitting.

“Nice choice,” you mused, tapping your fingers to the beat.

Destiny’s Child was a staple in your household growing up, and your love for the band remained even decades after their separation.

Soap shot you a grin, and started to belt out the lyrics, pulling another giggle from you. His Scottish accent was still prominent, and hearing the way he pronounced southern slang was more amusing than it should’ve been. You were soon sent into a fit when Gaz began to join in, though he was more subdued than the Scot.

They had too much energy considering the grueling mission you all were subjected to, but seeing them so carefree was a nice sight. To be able to kick back and listen to music with the men you were beginning to regard as your brothers brought you joy.

Soon enough, you were dancing in your seat, your tiredness fading as the beat reverberated through the plane. The team was the only passengers, so you didn’t have to worry about disturbing other guests.

While you expected Gaz and Soap to be bright and breezy—they almost always were—it was a surprise to see Captain Price bobbing his head to the beat, with as much rhythm as a middle-aged British man could muster. Even more shocking was that the notoriously stoic Ghost was tapping his foot against the floor.

You paused, the sight taking you aback enough for a disbelieving laugh to escape. You were feeling particularly giggly, your relief and tiredness making everything funnier than it really was.

Ghost froze when he noticed you staring, and you’d bet he was lifting a brow under his mask. “What?”

You just smiled and looked away. He continued to stare but didn’t press the issue further. And when No Scrubs by TLC started to play, it was forgotten completely.

The fact that those big, burly men were jamming out to R&B classics after a taxing mission amused you to no end. It was utterly absurd and seemed like something out of a sitcom. But despite the absurdity, it only made them even more endearing to you and solidified that the 141 was where you belonged.

[gx-gameon]

Just some crack but a funny way that Aster finds out just who Jaden is in your AU.

What people forget is that Aster basically called out Jaden as a copycat on live TV, which might have had some real consequences for Jaden given everything Sartorius was up to (including sending his lawyer after Jaden). Since Seto basically owns the Pro League Circuit, I can imagine something like this going down after season 2 is over: Emeralda: What did you two do?! Sartorius: I plead innocent via act of possession. Aster: I listened to Sartorius. Seto: Gentlemen, you're not gonna sit here and pretend there's not a big-ass elephant in the room. Emeralda: Could you please explain to us what is going on, Mr. Kaiba? Seto: *turns a picture frame next to his "World's Best Oto-san" mug on desk around, revealing a photo of Jaden*  This is what is going on! Sartorius & Emerald: *immediately putting the pieces together* OH. Aster: *going through the 5 stages of grief at the same time as he remembers every time Jaden gave details of his family* Seto: Now, could you all explain to me one more time as to why I had to call every duelist sponsor on the planet to have them retract my son's blacklisting?

I know Aster calls Jaden out on live tv but I didn’t think about Spencer’s blacklisting him because of it.

You know Seto is furious. Like the fact he waited this long to drag them all in front of him was because Jaden wanted to handle it with a duel. (He lost) then Jaden wasn’t able to see his cards/got sent to a mini dimension. Then Jaden wanted to handle Sartorius on his own, “there’s something not right here Oto-san let me check it out.”

Jaden has been their saving grace. But he can’t shield them forever. Now that everything is settled and Seto knows it was a possessions situation. That still doesn’t change the facts that Jaden got blacklisted because of this kid. Or that Jaden will know have to face an uphill battle if he ever joins the pro-leagues because that interview will forever be in peoples minds. That his baby boy, who has been using hero cards before they were a proper archetype, has somehow copied this kid. Sure it will be better if Jaden uses exclusively Neospacians and Aster uses Destiny hero’s (they are different archetypes) but anytime Jaden breaks out the Elemental hero’s he’s going to be compared to Aster and the video clip of Aster calling him a copy cat is going to resurface.

His boy deserves so much better.

And you know aster is sitting there losing his mind staring at the photo is Jaden. Like he already feels bad about the interview. He didn’t truely know Jaden at the time. But know he does. Jaden loves his hero cards, has used them for years. He and aster should have been best friends for the get go. Heck if aster had played his cards right Jaden and him would have made one heck of a tag team in the pro leagues since their decks play so well off each other.

And now with the added knowledge that Jaden is Yugi Muto and Seto Kaiba’s son!!! Do you know how popular they would have been as a duo. Or just as friendly rivals. And while that’s what he and Jaden know are, friends, he has forever damaged his friend’s public image. Sure Jaden forgives him but Aster was already being eaten alive by the guilt. He thought Jaden didn’t realize the severity of what he’d done.

But Jaden is the prince of duels he knows exactly how bad what Aster did was, and he still forgave him. Aster’s spiraling and oh look there’s and angry Seto Kaiba glaring down on them.

This could get funnier though if this is the start of summer break.

Jaden has no clue this meeting is happening and goes to surprise his Oto-san, maybe go out for lunch or drag him down to the duel arena. He just wants to spend time with his Oto-san and the family is all for Jaden dragging Seto away from work. He bust into the office taking off his hat and sunglasses as he does so. “Hey Oto-san do you-”

Aster whips around to stare at Jaden Yu-Muto. Jaden Muto. In the eyes. And Jaden is so shocked because he still doesn’t want anyone to know who he is. (And why do his friends keep showing up at Kaiba Corp in the summer! First Chumley and now Aster!!! Who’s next Chazz???)

The two boys stare at each other for a long moment. Seto trying reign the meeting back in. “So you can see why I’m quite upset”

Jaden is not listening to his Soto-san right now “please don’t tell anyone!” He screeches

At the same time Aster yells “why haven’t you told anyone!” Which fair half of their problems last year would have been problems if the school knew who Jaden was. (The whole plot to destroy the Slifer Dorms)

It’s a lot of chaos but eventually Aster understands why Jaden wants to keep this a secret (it totally makes sense) and he swears not to tell anyone. He still has to sit through Seto and his team reading them the riot act over what they have done to Jaden’s future career and steps that they WILL take to fix it.

In the end though Jaden drags him down to their state of the art dueling arena and Aster gets to duel against his friend. And he thinks that’s it. It’s just going to be the two of them ducking it out. But when the finish Jaden asked to duel his Oto-san and Aster gets to watch the Prince duel against Seto Kaiba. And while that happening Yugi, Atem, and Joey show up and now he’s getting the opportunity to duel people who are in the premier league, which is higher then the pro and he thought it would be years before he got to duel any of them and yet here they are ruffling Jaden hair and dueling for fun.

I might have to change the timeline of my au to make this cannon. This is why I love asks.

[hostdoozy]

A funny detail about Cloak & Swaggart

A common misconception spread around regarding the episode "Cloak & Swaggart" is that Rupert is the theft when in actuality- he's isn't. While Rupert is definitely not above such petty actions like thievery. In this case, he's very much innocent.

-OKAY OKAY PUT YOUR TOMATEOS DOWN! I KNOW HE'S BRITISH! Stop booing at me! BUT YOUR HONOUR! My client is innocent of this specific instance.

(Read more below)

In "Cloak and Swaggart" our favourite Girlboss duo go out partying after Splinter and his boys are off "camping". They are having the time of their lives, simply gals being pals.Yet something disastrous happens on girl's night leading to being the driving force of today's misadventure. Sunita's Brooch is stolen by a mysterious assailant. We know the thief of identity is unknown by judging the shape of their hand.

One could argue that this was an animation decision made by the team to make the twist a little more fun but this makes no sense from a narrative standpoint. Mr Loose Lips can't be the thief because A) look at his hands B) He isn't a Yokai or a mutant- he's never seen dawning a brooch indicating he may have an alternative form. Rupert can't be the thief because The Pigman has an alibi. This alibi is confirmed by Mr loose lips himself.

"Look kid, my clients suspect a certain level of discretion. Yea' think I'm just gonna tell yea that the brooch was bought by some big guy with a thick neck and an upturned nose an' paper hat, on his way to channel 6 ln a late-model charcoal grey stretch limousine?" If Rupert was the theft, then why would he bother showing up to Mr loose lips in the first place? it makes no sense. Even if we were to entertain the idea that this was a commission's work- it still wouldn't make sense. Rupert Swaggert in this regard, is innocent. He had no clue that the brooch belonged to someone else upon buying it. Keep in mind, that the British bastard had never met April or Suntia before this.

This makes the Episode even MORE funnier when you look through his lenses.

He can return to his old career which he suddenly lost due to his mutation. He finally found the means to take back his old life but within ONE DAY- Rupert was harassed by two teenagers, whom he had never met before EVER in his life. (then nearly got eaten by some yanks) From his perspective: He got robbed by some teens- for no reason

Before I close this off. I worry that some folks take away from the post is me shifting the blame onto April and Suntia which... no, I'm not. They're well within their right to take back a family heirloom which belongs to Sunita. besides They're TEENAGERS. Do you think April gonna go over to a known dangerous mutant and be like "Ermm, can we have that brooch back? " OF COURSE NOT. don't be insane. These girls deserve a crown.

What I'm doing is pointing out the hilarity of this scenario. We are all familiar with who Rupert is. He's an oversized porky jackass that has no problem committing extreme acts for his own benefit. We are SO used to his shittiness that putting "stealing from teenage girls" on his list of crimes wouldn't be out of the question. The only thing is... he didn't commit that here. Dude tried to get his old job back only to have some teenager mess with his life again. he never met them and to his knowledge, the Brooch was something he purchased.

So the Verdict?

Rupert is innocent in regards to Suntia's stolen brooch

As for everything else? all his other crimes? Guilty. Put this man away your honour.

case closed

[niiennieshi]

I wish i'd seen you sooner

«it must have hurt so bad seeing the girl you like loving someone else, huh?»

there's a new class plan, and you're not next to Isagi anymore! you're now next to another boy who used to be your crush.

you smile to your boyfriend as you hug him before you go to your new assigned seat. you were gonna miss being with him at every class, laughing, playing, talking and helping each other.. they were precious moments and yet so simple. but it's okay, fortunately, isagi's new seat was just behind yours and it means that you'll still be able to continue talking with him, even if it will be more difficult not to be catched by the teacher.

when you see who's beside you, you recognize someone who used to be your crush of almost two years ago. you've been talking a little but not that much, comparing to back then when you used to be close. the main reason you fell in love with him was for his sense of humour. he would always make you laugh. however, when you confessed to him, he admitted that he didn't see you this way.

even if it did hurt you back then, it doesn't matter now that you have yoichi <3

however, isagi also knew who he was to you. he also knew that you had a crush on him whereas isagi had one on you. the least we could say, is that it was so painful for him to watch you love someone else, to laugh so hard with someone else, and not him, when he was right beside you. at the time you were only friends, so when your ex crush rejected you, isagi, being your closest friend, had to comfort you. Even though it pained him, he was still your friend and he would always be there for you, even not as your lover, which was the case.

but when your heart finally woke up to look properly at the person who was always by your side, it began to see isagi on a different light. and so, you just fell in love with him, making him the happiest boy in the world.

even knowing that you now have only eyes for him, the footballer player still felt unsecure. he thinks you might end up liking him again. on top of that, he sees your ex crush as someone way more good looking and funnier than him. it would only be natural for you to prefer him to isagi.

so when the class starts and the teacher starts as well her job, she's quick to give you some work to do within the hour after she explained the lesson of the day. it will be no longer after that your new classmate asks for your help. all of this under the icy stare of your boyfriend. he quickly notices how he would put his arm behind your chair, as if he was marking his territory, when in reality it is not his at all. except, he doesn't know that.

isagi grits his teeth as he sees you being completely blind to it, and helping him innocently. even if he finds you cute, the anger he feels at the moment is stronger. and what he sees in front of him makes him clench his fists. the boy that now isagi hates, was showing you something to help him up with on the page on the opposite side of you, only for you to get closer to him in order to see better.

and to isagi who has no choice but to assist to it, it does nothing good but increase his anger which he restrains.

he's quick to write something on a piece of paper that said "stop talking to him", before it lands on your table. you throw a quick glance behind you and lock eyes with isagi's, smiling lovingly at him before you read what he has written.

however, his heart might just break when you ignore him to report your attention on the stupid boy next to you. "i've been wanting to tell you something." this picked your curiosity as you asked what it was. "i think that i might just like you too" he smiled as if you were still into him, when you are just not anymore since isagi bewitched you.

and when this one hears this, "i know it might be sudden but back then I just wasn't aware of what a beauty you were, so.. that's it. today i return your feelings.. baby", he might just snap.

but then he remembers that you ignored him to listen to this bastard, as the dark blue haired boy is currently calling him in his mind, and he fears that you might just accept his feelings.

"i don't wanna be rude but, wake up" you start, "i don't like you anymore, this was almost two years ago now. for you to think that it's still the case is cocky." while his smile faded, isagi never felt this relieved. and it gets even better as you continue, "since then i moved on, and now i have a wonderful boyfriend that i love very much" you wink at the person you're referring to, as isagi's heart swells, before you return your attention to the other boy who didn't seem to notice it, "i'm sorry, but i'm taken".

"and may i know who's the lucky guy?", it's strange, but his smile that disappeared earlier just made his comeback at the mention of a boyfriend. just when you were about to answer, the teacher that was passing by your table notices your blank sheet. "young girl! why is your sheet still empty since the beginning of the class! i bet you were chatting and doing nothing." you wanted to justify yourself saying that was because you were helping your classmate -and some other stuff that won't be metioned- when the bell rang. "oh! well, since you did nothing you'll have two more exercises to do and I want them fresh for tomorrow." and just like that, she left to pack her belongings like everyone else in the classroom.

you sighed, you did feel upset but this was your favorite subject so even some extra exercises to do weren't gonna make you mad. but it did make isagi mad as he knew it was all this guy's fault. "so who is your boyfr-" he continued as he was not feeling a tiny bit guilty, when your dear boyfriend comes to you putting his arms over your collarbones and resting his head on yours as you're still sat. "i am his boyfriend, want an autograph? you've been asking for me several times, what d'you want?" his tone was cold, and he had all rights to do so.

"oh, so it's you, isagi." his gaze was at fist cold as well until a cocky smile drawn his way to his lips, "it must have hurt so bad seeing the girl you like loving someone else, huh?" so now, now you're gonna be mad. furious, even. as isagi was biting his lip and was about to speak, you put your hands on isagi's arms (which don't let go of you) and stand up to speak. "sorry but i won't let that one slide so easily." you start, "now that i see what you're really like, i don't even understand how i managed to like you. how can you attack someone on his feelings? this is just very lame and ridiculous. you're pathetic. don't ever think of repeating it again asshole, especially to my boyfriend." as the jerk stays silent and walks away mumbling something you didn't catch, isagi is left agape by what you just said. even if he liked it, he didn't know you could be mean, in a way. however, isagi stops him as you frown, wondering why.

"hey! you didn't even apologize to my girl." the trash scoffed at the nickname, "apologize? and for what?" isagi frowns, "do I really have to tell you? because of you keeping her busy with your shit she couldn't work and now she has even more work to do." in response, he just shrugs. "as if i care" the trash cackled as it walked away, which made your boyfriend even more mad. his grip on your shoulders was tightening, making you wince a little.

turning around to face him, he's met by your sweet smile. "it's okay yoichi, i don't mind" once again, he didn't seem to agree with you. "but he-" you cut him off saying that is really okay and that it was useless anyway. "what about we just go outside for the break, hm?"

sat on a bench with isagi by your side, hand in his with fingers locked together and head on his broad shoulder, he confesses something to you. "you know.. i was afraid you might leave me for him, earlier." his gaze was directed to the ground as you take off your head from against him, eyes open wide with surprise as they look straight into his. "i mean, look at him and look at me. plus, you were in love with him so..." putting your hands on each one of his cheeks you force him to look at you. "pardon me sir? i think i misheard what you just said??" yet he stayed silent, looking in your eyes with quite a sad expression. and if there's one thing you hate the most beside people eating cereals with water instead of milk (i swear it exists), it's seeing the person you love sad.

"first, you can't compare him to you. i mean, you're just so much better. second, i wouldn't have just forgot my feelings for you in a second and go with him. and third, don't remind me of back then, I'm just ashamed now. how could I not see you?" you stare at the ground, thinking about this. after all, that's true. you never really wondered how you did to not notice him and his love for you even when you realized that you shared his feelings. instead of him, you loved that jerk.

suddenly, you feel his fingers on your chin, lifting it up to lock lips with yours. the kiss is slow, so soft and filled with love that you can't help but melt into it. he stops only to carry on from another angle, putting his hand on the back of your neck. there's nothing to say, his kisses really are the best. however, this had to come to an end. "i love you." Even if he didn't say it aloud it still would be the same, because his deep blue eyes were screaming it. "it's fine, the past doesn't matter now that you're finally mine".

every day your love for him grows, and now it might just explode.

[opinated-user]

LO did NOT just receive a message from a blank tumblr claiming to be a mother to a 16 year old kid apologizing to her for her child's "obessive hatred over LO".... *facepalm* This is literally the "I received a message from a father who says his kids are in a incestous relationship and asked my opinion on what to do about it." That's just WAY too elebrate a narrative. A mom makes a tumblr just to send a message to LO, or any tumblr personality for that matter, because their kid is being mean to them???? Nah, smells like fish to me.

oh no, anon, you don't understand. this is absolutely one of the funniest thing that LO could do. if it wasn't because LO gave such a long and obviously crafted response, i'd even believe this is a random troll just messing around because it's that good. LO has never been funnier in her life. this, anon, this is quality nonsense. you have to appreciate it how utterly out of this world someone needs to be in order to do this and think no one will think weird about it. that's a great joke on itself. read how this "concered mother" is so very obviously southern and utterly polite. read how the mother tries to assure that her son "is a really sweet boy". read about how she's "concered" that her sweet baby boy is going to find a "problematic" person to hate online and this is bad, awful, horrible, because he might start blaming everything wrong on his life on this person. he hasn't done it. but he might someday, so the best course of action is to go to tumblr itself and make sure if that person is truly problematic. by asking that person directly. and obviously, everyone would admit point black to being a predator who has molested their siblings for years, catfished a friend, sexually abuse people, groomed a minor, etc, etc, right? right? that's a very smart thing to assume, right? so obviously, as a very reasonable, very maam, this woman is going to directly ask to the people accused of these acts if they're true instead of looking at any of the evidence. just read again how apologetic this woman is to someone she has no idea why people keep calling a predator. no, anon. this is gold. this up there with the kind of absolute nonsense that the whole "i was stalked by a online harasser and i drop kick him in front of my house in the street, i receive a concussion too but no medical assistance required, thank you" saga was. the cancer history can't compare. it's even funnier than the "concerned" father because that was just one random anon that maybe, if you really wanted to, could believe came from someone else. in this ocassion, LO made that account. she actually went through the trouble of making it. the answer of LO too is so funny. first of all, i need to ask: what does "minor therapy" even means? do they come in categories now? there's a "high therapy" that you only get once you have grind enough, i wonder. "reinforcing that he needs to do something else with his time" is so extremely vague that you might as well said "the solution to your problem is to solve it", but somehow making it this big declaration that is supposed to be the biggest help you can get on that situation.

she's treating this reply as it were this big moment of her declaring the truth of the matter... while addressing actually nothing at all. if you were a real mother who thinks your son is following someone that people are calling a predator... well, the first question is obviously why would you write that "predator" at all. but then the other question would be, is that actually a good reply? there's no screenshots, there's no archives, there's no proof of anything of what LO's saying. this is literally just "source: trust me" and it's meant to be taken seriously. LO has found LO innocent of all charges, as LO has declared. she thinks this is going to assure people that she's innocent. that's amazing. that's a great joke. the funniest joke that LO has never made in her entire career. i literally can't stop laughing just imagining LO doing all of this and thinking to herself "take that, Brittanies! now you won't ever doubt the harm you cause! even though i actually completely failed into portraying any real harm done, but nevermind that! take that!"

even in the case that this was a real person who saw her son's entire internet history and somehow felt necesary to make a tumblr blog just so she could message a youtuber out of the blue, LO's answer would mean nothing. if i was a parent, this reply alone would set a new field of red flags everywhere. and that's why it's so funny that LO still has this account pretending to be grateful for receiving what is essentially a big sandwich of nothing.