#there. god. he is nice but he is not doing himself any favours. why would you fully seriously explain what a euphemism is to three grown

[legendaryjarcollection]

Group project partners love to make the shared document as confusing as possible

[gguk-n]

In Every Life (Ollie Bearman x Reader)

Summary- In a world where soulmates exist. Some people remember the time they spent with their soulmate in every life. Ollie wake up one day and remembers everything, like it was yesterday.

Oliver had always wondered what his soulmate mark was. He thought that it would eventually appear as he grew older. But nothing of that sort happened; what did happen were weird fragmented dreams, of him and his soulmate. At first he thought his soulmate mark was sharing dreams or memories but as he dissected his dreams he realised that they didn't look like they were from the current time.

The dreams started when he was a teenager, very vague and blurry; leaving him very confused when he woke up. As he grew older, they got vivid and lively, as if he could feel his soulmate every time he dreamt.

One of his most earliest memories were of the bubonic plague. He had done his research and it looked eerily similar to his dreams. He remembers meeting his soulmate, spending time with her and being helplessly in love. But he also remembers losing her, watching her wither away as the disease took her, watching her being shunned yet never leaving her side.

In his second life, he met his soulmate when they were kids. The pair remembered each other from their past life and were able to pick up where they left off. They had hoped to finally get their happy ever after this time but fate had other plans. Ollie remembers falling mysteriously sick just like everyone in the village. He remembers his lover doing everything in her power to save him. He remember closing his eyes to a weeping soulmate as he took his last breaths.

In his third life, he couldn't believe how unlucky he had been the past. He still thinks in every reincarnation he was unlike. Because that life was during the first world war. He was forced to enlist and they spent their days writing letters back and forth. They had only met a few months before his enlistment and hadn't even gotten time to spend together. He finally returned back from war but he didn't know what had happened to his soulmate since he had stopped receiving letters as time went on. He had hoped for her well being but it wasn't enough. He came back to destruction; spending the rest of his life in misery.

But this time, Ollie would change the course of their life. He would make sure that they got to live happily ever after. He would find them and grow old and have kids. He would finally live the life he so desired.

It was like everything was working in his favour. He had signed his F1 contract and he had a prospective future. And then he saw her. She was walking around the paddock with some one, who he realised was his future teammate. He was quick to approach her. "Hi, I'm Ollie" he smiled, introducing himself. She looked at him confused, "My future teammate" her brother elaborated. "I'm Y/N, nice to meet you" she shook his hand. Oliver was confused, didn't she remember. He stared at her for a few seconds before she dismissed herself. Oliver watched her walk away.

He did what any 19 year old would do, stalked her social media, followed her and hoped to god he would be able to start a conversation with her. It took a while before she replied but the replies were short and curt. Oliver didn't know what to do to help jog her memory. He made sure to be an omnipresence so that she couldn't forget about him. Y/N couldn't forget about him, his face felt familiar yet strange. She couldn't piece it together. She spent a lot of time wondering where she had met him.

Oliver was losing hope, he wondered if he would ever get to be with his soulmate. His first formula one season was about to start and he didn't have as much free time to woo her, he felt.

Y/N had started having weird dreams and she would always wake up crying in them. She couldn't understand why; and the more she saw Ollie, the more vivid her dreams got. He had started to grow on her.

She soon realised those were her soulmate mark but soon she realised those were her past life, she was distraught having lost her soulmate so soon and so many times. She wondered what happened to her soulmate after each part of her past life she was able to piece together.

It was the first race of the 2025 season. Y/N had gone to support her brother at his new team. She walked into the garage to see Ollie talking to his engineer. That's when everything clicked, the weird encounters with Ollie, his persistence and the dreams. He was her soulmate. Without much thought she walked up to him. "Ollie can we talk?" she asked slowly. Oliver looked at her and dismissed himself from his engineer. They walked to a quieter place, "I'm sorry for not recognising you" she muttered tearfully. Ollie looked at her, slowly wiping her tears, "You do now" he replied hugging her. She started to sob quietly into his shirt. "I'm so sorry for leaving you, alone all those times. I'm sorry for not being there for you. I'm sorry" her body shook with the sobs as she blubbered apologies. "It's okay, we're here now. I'm not leaving. Ever" Ollie stated. "Promise" she asked looking at him. "Promise" he replied kissing her forehead. "I love you so much. In every life. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you" she mumbled. "I love you too. I'm happy it's you" he said kissing her on the lips this time.

[00-jammy-00]

Helloo!!^_^

Could I request a yan who everyone likes? Like nobody would suspect yan!

I guess golden retriever!yan? Maybe darling tries to say something but nobody believes them because they think darling is trying to ruin yan’s reputation ? :33

Btw could I be 🍯 anon?

Yan!GoldenBoy HC’s

Yan!GoldenBoy x GN! Reader

Content warning - Yandere themes, obsession, murder, nsfw mentions, possessiveness, stalking, yan has mood swings, he’s a little bitch.

—————————————————————————————————

Yan!GoldenBoy who was good looking. He could get anything he wanted with a hand through his hair and a flash of his charming pearly whites. He knew he was handsome, he knew people trusted him, he knew all this and he knew it would only make it easier to get you.

Yan!GoldenBoy Who has been obsessed with you for months! He was playing basketball for his school when he saw you for the first time. You were just sitting on the benches, none of that cringe ‘they were reading a book instead of paying attention.’ you were simply watching the game but you looked so radiant while doing it, he couldn’t help but rush over when the game finished.

Yan!GoldenBoy Who tripped over his own feet to chase you down near the exit, he put an arm around your shoulders and flashed that charming smile. He talked to you for a few minutes, making sure to totally not brag about the fact he was the captain of the basketball team, he was really humble you know?

Yan!GoldenBoy Who offered you a car ride home with those gorgeous honey coloured eyes yet was completely shocked when you said no. You said…no? What the fuck does no mean? Who the fuck do you think you are?! You’re lucky he doesn’t fucking kill you!

Yan!GoldenBoy Who just gives you a sweet smile and insists only to clench his jaw when you refuse again. God you’re making this so fucking hard, you’re gorgeous, you’re everything, which means you’re meant to be his for fucks sake.

Yan!GoldenBoy Who vows he’ll never leave you alone. You’re destined to be his, you’re perfect, he’s perfect, so you have to be together, you’re soulmates! He uses a few favours to find out everything about you. Your address, who your family is, where you work, your favourite brand, what your favourite scent is, your zodiac sign, blood type, what hospital you were born at, what cemetery you might want to get buried at. You know, the usual stuff.

Yan!GoldenBoy Who is practically drooling as he jerks himself off to your underwear which he had…borrowed…from your house on his last so called visit. He had cum so much he was having dry orgasms babe! Why do you still not want him?! He could be so good for you!

Yan!GoldenBoy Who sits in his nice car with a pair of binoculars to make sure nothing strange is happening in your room. He’s just keeping you safe, what if someone comes around and tries to steal you?! Don’t worry, your boyfriend is here for you, he’ll protect you. Your boyfriend…god just the idea of being your boyfriend makes him hard all over again.

Yan!GoldenBoy Who doesn’t care if he has to beat the shit out of some people. Your classmate was found with a ripped open chest and a missing heart? That’s terrible babe, but he can be your lab partner now! That one annoying bitch in your class had a bullet between her eyes and her heart missing just like your classmate? How tragic! Don’t worry, you’re safe with him.

Yan!GoldenBoy Who delivers special presents to your door every time a little rat decides to try and ruin his plans. Maybe if he gifts you the hearts from his victims, you’ll let him into yours <3

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Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, requests are open <3

please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Late Bloomer 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Peter Parker, Steve Rogers (Professor AU)

Summary: you start your second year of university but as the workload grows more intense, you start to feel your age. (mid-30s reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

You are as ever painfully early. It's a habit that often leaves you wandering or hovering awkwardly. You check your watch as you come up to the steps of the century-old building. You are in dread of your physics class but it turns out that all the easy electives fill up fast. 

Before you can start the ascent, there's a scuff of steps from the other side. The breadth of the stairs nearly spans a third of the grand facade. You glance over as a young man with a messenger bag rushes up the first few steps only to trip and sprawl over the concrete stairs with an oomph. Without hesitation, you rush over as he groans and clatters back to the bottom. 

"Oh my gosh, are you alright?" You scoop up the phone that flew from his hand, seemingly the cause of his accident.  

He grunts and struggles to turn himself over, clutching his chest as he can't even get a word out. You know exactly what's happened. You rub his back through his burgundy jacket and give a gentle lat. 

"Ah, you're fine, honey, you just got the wind knocked out of ya." 

He nods and gulps, a spiral of his reddish brown hair falling down his forehead. His dark eyes meet yours, their panicked sheen softening as his lips tremble in an attempt at a smile. 

"Thanks," he rasps at last. 

You pull your arm back and offer him your phone. 

"That was quite the tumble," you stand straight and extend your hand. He takes it and hauls himself up. 

"Yeah, this dang thing," he wiggles his cell and tucks it away in his jacket, "always getting me in trouble." 

You smile nervously and your eyes drift down as he favours one leg. There's a red splotch growing on his khakis. You pop your brows up in concern. 

"Er, think you got yourself good." You point and he looks down. 

"God! I knew I shouldn't have worn these ones. I told May, dark colours!" 

"Baking soda, maybe a bit of club soda," you assure him. "I got bandaids in my bag." 

"You-- do?" He's surprised. 

"Can never be too prepared," you smile. "Um, I guess.. 

We're in the way." 

You glance around as you sense bodies heading up the steps, a few glancing your way. 

"Uh, yeah, why don't we head inside," he takes a ginger step. "Uh, typical. My first day." 

"It'll get better," you say. 

"Hm, yeah, I guess it already has," he grins at you before he turns back up the steps. 

"You need help?" You ask. 

"No, no, I'm not a total disaster," he chuckles. "So," he clears his throat as you catch up to him, "what do you teach?" 

"Oh," you repress a strike of embarrassment. Of course he would assume you're a professor, or a TA at the very least. It's obvious you have a few years on him and most of your classmates. "I'm a student." 

"Nice," he nods, "wait, oh, gee, I didn't mean to imply-- ah, I'm sorry." 

"No, no, it's fine. It's my second year. First year all the freshmen called me mom," you shake your head. "But that might be the bandaids in my bag." 

"Maybe," he stops and squints, "right..." he points his finger around as he thinks, "this way." 

You let him guide you. You don't need to be in class for another half hour. You follow him up to the second floor. That's where your class will be. Convenient. 

When he stops at a door and digs around in his pocket, your heart drops. You look up at the room number as he takes out a set of keys and unlocks the door. You chew on your dismay. 

He lets you in ahead of him. You wait patiently and he heads up to the podium. He leans on the table next to it as he unhooks his bag from over his shoulder. He sighs and peers down at his knee. 

The pulls up the fabric and hisses. You approach as you sift through your bag. He bends his leg as he looks at the scrape. It's not that bad. 

You take out the little pack of alcohol wipe from the little emergency pouch. How many times have you played mother hen to drunk coeds? You're prepared for it all. 

"Wow, you got everything in that magic bag," he teases. 

You squat down and wipe the blood away. As you peel the bandaid wrapper away, you scoff, "I'm a pack horse. Utterly terrified of forgetting anything important." 

You cover the cut and run your fingers across the bandage to make sure it sticks. He winces. 

"Sorry," you apologise as you stand and crumple up the wipe and wrapper. 

You search around for the garbage and toss the waste. You fish again in your bag and take out your sanitizer. You squirt it onto your palm and drop it back through the open zipper. Your rub your hands together as he pulls his pantleg back down. 

"Well, since you got my blood on your hands, I guess you should get a name too," he chuckles, "I'm Peter. Er, Professor Parker. Still getting used to that." 

He offers his hand and you shake it, "Olive." 

"Olive. Pretty. Er, interesting. Oh no," he pulls back, "I went through sensitivity training. Can I say that?" 

"It's fine, professor. I'm not overly fond of the name myself," you shrug. 

"Right, well," he bends his arm and tugs up his sleeve to check his apple watch. "I hope I didn't make you late." 

"Well, actually, funny story," you scratch the side of your neck, "I'm enrolled in Physics 2." 

He tilts his head and his lips part on disbelief, "you're joking." 

"Nah, it's not exactly my favourite subject but I'll do my best," you say, "but er, if you need to get set up, I can wait in the hall." 

"What? No. You're early. Make sure you get the best seat," he insists. "I will say the front row is where you wanna be but I was a student not too long ago and I won't be insulted if you sit in the back." 

You laugh, "well, you know, I'm a late bloomer and these ears aren't so good." You kid, "front row's fine with me." 

His grin lingers, awkwardly as his forehead lines and he tries to come up with a response. You smile, "I'll go sit down." 

You give a little wave and go to find a seat. You settle in with your bag in your lap and slid out your notebook and the box of fresh pens. You tried your laptop for notes but you just find your eyes hurt from the blue light. 

You tuck your bag under your seat and unfold the small desk from the arm rest. As you peel back the cover of your notebook, your ears tingle. You glance over as Peter-- Professor Parker, peeks at you. You give a tense smile and pull out a pen, putting your focus back to your notebook. 

At least if you do crappy, you might be able to charm yourself into at least a passing grade. 

[yanderefarm]

yandere omega cultist introduction

more bad art. more disjointed thoughts. i hope i don't contradict myself when i write his part 2.

cw;; religion, omegaverse, yandere tendencies, nsft

Nephite is a very devoted and proud follower of Happy Homes. he loves his church, he loves his pastor, he loves his god.

he's always so happy to prepare the sacrament and take care of the youngest members of the church. absolutely anything he can do to help makes him happy.

his father is a very strict and rigid in his beliefs kind of man. his beliefs aligned nicely with the founder's so he and his wife joined when they had just gotten married. all their children have been raised in the cult and they don't know about anything outside of the compound.

Nephite's family along with a few others are technically considered lowest in the church hierarchy because they entered the church after marriage. they don't get treated poorly it just means they're in charge of providing food for the compound.

the coming of age omegas were promised that if they brought new alphas to the cult they would raise in rank with their new families.

Nephite was especially looked at favourably for this due to being a "dominant" omega. he was promised that his new family would be able to rise to the level of elder right under the founder's own family.

his family was more excited about the new power than he was, he just wanted to serve the church.

after meeting you the promise that elders were allowed to go into the city made the raise in rank more appealing to him.

he wants to go to all of your favorite places. he wants to go to the movies and eat popcorn. he wants to play games at the arcade. he wants to try sweets at the cafe. he's never wanted to go to the outside world before he met you.

the church never teaches that the outside world is some ominous and dangerous threat. just that impure omegas have convinced people to disrupt the natural order. if you showed any member of the cult omega/omega couples they would combust.

thats why Nephite has to save you. he has to pull you away from the wickedness of the outside world before you become ruined. if you told him you'd been in alpha/alpha relationships he would combust.

honestly if you tell him about your dating history or experiences he'll combust. he knows it's wrong for an omega to be angry and aggressive but he can't help himself. the idea of any impure hands touching you sends him spiraling.

he could easily be convinced someone else in the cult wants you for themselves. especially if his pastor says so.

he trusts anything his pastor tells him even if it was utterly ridiculous. he was the kind of kid who believed in santa until adulthood. he would believe you if you said the sky was red.

you're the only one who overrides the pastor's words. if the pastor tells him to leave you because you don't love him he wouldn't believe it.

honestly if you started saying you don't love him he could probably justify to himself why you're lying. lying is a sin but its ok he forgives you.

he loves wearing dresses. at first it might seem like a religious thing but the other male omegas in the community usually only wear dresses to church. he wears them all year round.

if you buy him a sundress he'll be so happy he'll wear it every chance he gets. he flaunts it to all his friends how his alpha got him something pretty.

buy him anything and the whole commune will know about it baring few exceptions. you bought him a new bible? he takes it with him everywhere. you bought him some jewelry? its always on to show off at a moments notice. you gave him a cool rock? its his lucky rock and has to go everywhere with him.

he adores pet names. call him anything even if it doesn't sound that cute and he's thrilled. he calls you husband and alpha and dearest until he can't talk anymore.

if you call him wife he'll probably start crying. he likes husband too but he was taught all omegas are wives so he'll probably be confused at first if you call him that.

nsfw

his dad was in charge of making his account and monitoring his messages so unfortunately for you if you ever sent something dirty. the pastor probably also saw it. sorry.

Nephite definitely smells like blackberries and honey. its sweet and warm and permeates through everything he owns.

he has a breeding kink. major breeding kink. after your first night together its like he's constantly in heat (his actual heats are so much worse). he knows it's a bit naughty but he won't be satisfied until he's pregnant.

he'll be understanding if not a bit sad if you don't want to have kids but still tell him you're gonna get him pregnant every night anyway.

one of the few things he wouldn't go around letting everyone know you gifted him is lingerie and toys.

you'll need to explain toys to him a little bit but he understands lingerie. he loves lingerie. if you buy him some he'll wear it under his dresses all the time. it feels a bit naughty but he doesn't mind.

definitely secretly has a corruption kink. he's devoted his whole life to being a pure innocent soul so when his husband who he's equally devoted to starts making him be naughty he gets such a thrill.

he'll cry and beg you to not turn him into a pervert but he's just talk. nothing makes him squirt harder than being told he's dirty.

and he is a squirter. you have to work him to it but the moment your knot pops inside of him its over for him.

the cult doesn't believe in modern medicine like heat suppressants or birth control so everyone in the compound uses natural remedies for everything. except that doesn't work for dominant omegas. most modern heat suppressants don't. Nephite's first heat was absolutely brutal for him and he was stuck in bed for two weeks before they finally let him see a doctor in the city. that's when he learned about his status and he was put on some of the strongest heat suppressants. it works but it did make him feel weaker sometimes.

luckily now he's married so he threw all that out. he doesn't let you take any rut inhibitors either. when it's time for either of you he just politely tells the pastor that he'll be gone for the next two weeks. they don't always last that long but he likes to get extra cuddles in while the last of it fades.

its during his first heat with you that you mark him. its a weird marriage ritual the cult has where the pastor distributed heat inducers into Nephite. the elders of the cult along with the pastor watched you guys. it really ramped up the creepy cult vibes. but Nephite was happy.

he knows you can't mark him more than once but he always wants you to bite him again. he likes if you leave any marks on him. claw his hips, bite his neck, leave hickeys on his chest. he doesn't care how hard it is to cover up he'll be happy.

loves to steal your clothes. he'll remake his nest about once a week and give you back your clothes so you can add your scent again. and the ones that dont pass the nest test he wears to bed until they lose their smell.

he'll welcome you home like "do you want dinner, a bath, or me?" and if you don't say him he'll pout all through dinner.

[livelaughlovesubs]

Nini!!! I have an idea, if ur still busy making that fic then take ur time with this ask. Soooo this might be a lil bit inappropriate butttt how abt cockwarming dazai while he tries to work?? Again if ur still busy with that fic u mentioned on ur last post then don’t mind me! (=^ ◡ ^=)

Sorry if I bothered u!!! (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

- 🎀

Dw, you aren’t bothering me, you’d never bother me with your lovely asks ☺️ (sorry that I took so long, I literally have to force myself to feed ya’ll) and it’s a little short, sorry for that

Dom!reader x sub!dazai

Warning: cockwarming, strap or dick - you can interpret it however you want, reader is gender neutral

He sighed when he glanced over the mountains of paperwork on his desk, you could even say he whined. Slumping down and pouting, throwing the led in his hand onto the table. “What’s with all this work?” The boy complained, before he leaned back against his seat, cuddling up against you. “Do we really have to wait until I’m finished?”

Today was like any other day, with dazai refusing to do any of his assignments. Mori wanted you to do something about it, and as much as you’d like to protest, he was your boss after all. Which is why you decided to make it fun for you as well. That led to your current situation, with dazai sitting in your lap and diligently working, all while your dick was buried deep inside him.

Your hands fit perfectly on his slim waist, holding him and making sure that he stays still. The feeling of his smooth skin was nice to the touch, and you rested your head on his shoulder. Sometimes when you exhaled, the hot air would tickled his ears. If you weren’t easing him, then he doesn’t know what it was. How can you expect him to do all of this while you are touching him like you are about to bend him over? Not that he minds, he desperately wants you to do so. How long has he waited for any action to happen? Maybe hours now.

He felt full and filled, it was a very erotic experience. Every once in a while his insides would clench around you, and he’d squeeze his thighs together. This was worse than any torture methods he learned, much worse. The words on the paper in front of him started to blur, it was like he forgot how to read. Yet again he slumped back against you, biting his bottom lip at the small yet delicious friction that gave him. “Hmm..! God, y/n, can’t you just fuck me?”

Dazai really couldn’t wait any longer. He already worked for more than an hour, can’t you do him a small favour? Subconsciously, or maybe he knew what he was doing, he rocked his hips. The boy moved so slow, like a ship sailing on a calm ocean, he thought you wouldn’t notice. In contrary you did saw it, and grabbed his chin to make him face you, then you whispered your answer, “no.”

Without giving him any reasoning, only a cold and commanding refusal. For some reasons it made him even more wet, he felt his body shake and his dick twitch at your voice. His precum was dripping down his shaft and coating his soft thighs, you’d even dare say he looked like a girl with all those fluids he let out. “If you want to get fucked so bad, finish your work sooner.” You suggested, though he knew you weren’t giving him an inch. It was an order and you weren’t going to show him mercy. Fine, guess he will have to use his trump card.

Suddenly, he raised his shoulders, they were now reaching his ears. Then he slowly started to sob, small delicate tears rolled down his rosy cheeks. Afterwards he did a dramatic turn, staring back at you with the most pitiful and vulnerable expression he could muster. The way desire and need blended perfectly in his eyes was seductive, though the pose he did was the one of an innocent maiden. Some strands of his bangs stuck to his forehead, and his lips were slightly parted. In that moment, he looked straight out of a painting, like an angel that descended upon the moral realm.

“Please..” Dazai began his act, mumbling in a meek tone, as if he was embarrassed of himself. “Fuck me.. I want it so bad.” The way he stressed the last two words was the peak of acting, he could win an Oscar with that one. It took you every resolve and self control you had to not throw him onto the table and fuck him. If you were to wait any longer, it was going to be a torture for you too. More tears flowed down his pretty face, those water droplets were like diamond shining in the sun light, emphasising his helplessness even more.

That man knew what he was doing and did it with passion, if he wants something he will get it, that’s what his body language told you. Which is why you especially want to go against it. “No is no, osamu, if you don’t finish this until dawn I’ll just leave and go drinking with chuuya.” You warned him, but it was more like a threat. He gasped a little, now crying a little louder than before. “Oh.. how cruel of you..! Can chuuya give you the things I can offer?” There was no answer to that question, you didn’t want to because you knew he could use it against you. Instead you gave him a little trust, enough to make his back arch. “AhHHh~ m-mhm..” the male moaned out, he did not hold back at all.

“go back to work.” You chuckled as you said, resting your chin on his shoulder again. “Hm.. mean..” and now he was pouting again, oh well, let’s see how long he can still play this game until he breaks. You weren’t going to be the first one to crumble. All you had to do was lay back and watch the play unfold. “Do as you wish, dazai, you have time until dawn.”

[dawndelion-winery]

Fortune's Blessing

Meeting the God of Luck! Reader

Ft. Capitano(pt.2), Diluc, Dottore(pt.2), Pantalone(pt.2), Zhongli

Part 1

Capitano:

Fortune favours the bold

Or so he's heard, which is why he's once again at your altar, flowers in hand, along with his usual offerings

He takes more time in getting to his requests with each visit ever since you've started entertaining him in person

Terrible, really, the way he stalls, smoothly transitioning between topics the moment he sees you begin to lose interest

He knows there's only so long s mere mortal could hold your attention

Still he tries, adamant to make it work, to leave an impact on you, even if only a fraction of the impact you've had on him

Perhaps it really was time to be bold - what he planned to do would toe the line between courage and foolishness

"What is it you wish me to bless this time, Captain?" You murmur, tilting his chin to have him look at you as he knelt at your feet. He rose, kissing the back of your hand in reverence. Had you been anything but a god, you would have surely melted stthe intensity of his gaze, so steadfast and sure as he looked at you like there was nothing else in the world.

"It is a more...personal endeavour this time, Fortune." You raised an eyebrow at the captain prompting him to continue.

Diluc:

He's never considered himself particularly lucky or unlucky

Nor does he consider himself a devout believer of any god

Like yeah sure, gods exist, good for them, not his problem

Y'all failed him and let his dad die

So his first offering had been more of a formality since you were a friend of their archon and chose to visit their fair land of Mond

It just do happened his wine was the finest you'd tasted, and he found himself in much good fortune over the next few days

It felt odd to him, suddenly having this much good fortune after turning into a recluse

Greater still was his shock when you sat comfortably in his living room when he arrived home

"You are young lord Ragnvindr, yes?" you asked gleefully. "Your offering was received with much gratitude, and I am most regretful to inform you that it has run out."

He blinked a few times as you smiled at him expectantly. "You're...Fortune..." You nodded enthusiastically. "And you...you're asking for more wine?" His question sounded clipped, as though he were weighing the consequences of acquainting himself with yet another alcoholic god.

"Indeed, I took the liberty of installing a small shrine by your cellar for your convenience."

Your words left Diluc sighing, yet he couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips as you left.

Dottore:

Attention whore.

You thought you were dealing with a genius mad scientist?

Well, technically yes, BUT he is also an attention whore

Why did you not shower him with praise when he showed you the experiments he had used your luck for?

He takes it as your cue to him that he hasn't impressed you sufficiently

Which does make him grumpier

And he's not professional enough to hide it

"Take a look at this, Fortune."

You nodded in response, gingerly lifting the small device from his hands and raising it to the light to observe it. Your face remained impassive since you didn't really understand just what you were looking at, but of course, to Dottore, he'd expect a god to know these things.

"Well?" Dottore tapped his foot impatiently, his gleeful smile fading, slowly replaced by a frustrated scowl when all you comment is that "it's nice". Only nice?

The little office chair he pulled out for you is now carting you off around the lab to look at larger scale projects at speeds it was certainly not designed for.

Pantalone:

It's an investment, as you should know

Except luck is always a gamble, and who's to say his competitors don't worship you as well?

He finds out the hard way that his competitors were, in fact petty enough to come together and pool their offerings to one up his offerings

He does call for a business meeting with you over dinner

Enjoy it? Lovely, he certainly hopes you do

Gives you an ultimatum, in a way, because at the end of the day, he's got more to offer you long term

"Forsake them, Fortune. Whatever it is you want from me, it's yours. Is that not tempting enough of an offer to you?"

He's batting his eyes at you, plastering a pleading expression on his face, but you can tell it's an act. You know full well he'd cope just fine even if you declined, that this was just the most direct way out for him. Yet you found yourself caving for the sly, coy grin that tugged at his lips. So against your better judgement you agree. For a second, you note how serpentine his victorious smirk looks, and he seems to believe he has you trapped in his coils. No matter. It amused you for the time being; and you would continue to humour him for as long as he intrigued you.

Zhongli:

It's been a while since he's met another god who wasn't one of the seven

Heck, it's been ages since he'd even seen the seven, each of them preoccupied with their own affairs

So he's more than obliged to show you around, to accompany you when you visit Liyue

He has no need for luck, just as you have no need for material wealth

It's an odd sort of comfort, not being exalted, and it feels like two ordinary old friends walking along the harbour together

The two of you definitely jokingly exchange gifts as "offerings" and tease each other about your respective abilities

"Do you recall our contract?" Zhongli mused as he fidgeted with a single mora, rolling it between his fingers.

"Which? When you were only known as Morax? Or when you first were revered as Rex Lapis?"

"From our first farewell." You nodded, thinking back to that moment, back when Zhongli had kept his hair more unkempt, and worn the most fitted of shirts, flaunting the geo lines that adorned his arms. Back then, he'd lost Guizhong not long ago, and it was beginning to get lonely as more and more of his friends succumbed to erosion. So he'd proposed a contract, that no matter what, as long as he remained in Liyue, you'd one day return.

"Well, I did return," you hummed. "That you did," he agreed. "And I'd like to propose the same contract when you depart again. Something to look forward whole you're away."

Taglist:@myluvkeiji @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @cxlrose @astrequa @eowinthetraveler @ajaxstar @boundedbyfate @the-lost-anime-dad @moonbyunniee @greyrain23 @heavenlyfloof

Commissioned by @monstersealclubber

[frillydolle]

period relief

arthur morgan x female reader

menstruation is a not so wonderful u have to deal with. the girls were kind enough to keep ur chores on the low so u didn't have to do them. only for a certain cowboy gets more concerned and visits u in ur tent.

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ comfort and tooth rotting fluff , dated and typical period idealogy.

no one has seen u all day, confined in the pirvacy of ur tent. u have been on and off sleep the entire day because u hurt so bad. the girls were kind enough to do ur chores for u, anything to have ms. grimshaw off ur back. but god, u have never been in so much pain until ur hormones course through u even more.

arthur checked up on you. well, sort of. he'd take a peek of the tent flap for a small conversation before he had to leave camp or before someone asked him for a favour of something like that. he knew u didn't feel right, but he wasn't sure why - assuming u were just feeling unwell.

soon the skies were decorated from bright colours of orange and pink, giving a sort of glowy light within camp grounds, to dark blues and blacks as it faded into the night sky. many were starting to turn in for the night or have some time to themselves.

u were under the comforts of ur blanket as u lie in ur cot, ur arms across ur lower abdomin, attempting to lessen the pain, even keeping any sort of warmth u have within the covers. the only thing that u were grateful for is that ms. grimshaw wasn't nagging u about chores.

“god, i hate this so much.. wish it would end quicker..” would often leaves ur lips, only for ur own eyes or ears from passing ur tent would know what ur problem is. arthur had no idea, not that he was naive but he was too busy going in and out of camp, at dutch's beck and call to properly realise.

“hey, darlin.. 'm sorry ive been away fer so long.. what's wrong?” “the usual.. 'm fine 'nd dont be sorry, u silly man.” u reply with a small hum, adjusting ur position in ur cot.

“oh, my girl... do ya need anythin?” “get in here, mr morgan.”

without hesitation, he undressed himself down to his union suit before climbing into bed with u, his chest pressed against ur back while his hands glide over to ur lower abdomin, his thumb caressing as his own little way of comforting u.

“tell me 'bout yer day..” u say softly, trying to compress the pain ur bottling in. his hand continues resting on ur abdomin while the other interlocks with ur fingers.

and so he did. while he mindlessly rubbed ur abdomin, being his breath against ur skin as he talked. oh, u did do ur best to pay attention, to listen to his voice and focus, but oh, his voice was just so nice. so nice and rough. with that, ur eyes soon slowly begin to close, even though u were fighting sleep. but it beat u.

“after that, i went-” u tried so hard to stay awake.

but his voice...

“yeah, so it ain't much fun.” he soon realised u finally quietened down.

“...darlin'?” no response.

he wasn't that stupid. so, of course, he adjusted himself beside u, getting more comfortable.

“g'nigh', doll.” what a sweet man he was.

[danwhobrowses]

Spoilers for Critical Role Campaign 3 Episode 104 Below

So with Orym's Seedling getting blessed by the Wildmother to now be Vestige-tier as a 'Relic of the Red Solstice' I thought I'd indulge myself and throw in which of the gods I think/want to bless the rest of the Hells with in order to give them Relics and why.

Imogen - The Stormlord Why - Easiest of the bunch after Orym, she is the storm after all and she likes her lightning magic, flying and projectiles. The Knowing Mistress may be a secondary option but I think the Stormlord has this one on lock, likely enhancing her damage output or overall spellcasting.

Laudna - The Matron of Ravens Why - Given Laudna's connection and affinity for the dark and spooky it seems the best fit. You could go and juxtapose with the Dawnfather given the Sun Tree or have the Arch Heart help her believe in her own magic but I think the Matron would be the best fit. Laudna's enhancement may fall more into damage avoidance than increased damage through the Matron, or something to hinder enemy saves.

Chetney - The All Hammer Why - The god of crafting hasn't gotten any real chances to shine in the past 3 campaigns, but he is the best fit for the toymaker. The Moonweaver may be an option given lycanthropy, and I wouldn't put it past Travis wanting to get a vestige from a Betrayer God but adding more options for Travis to be creative is always a solid recipe. For that maybe a Relic that changes shape or can make some summonings would work for Chet.

Fearne - The Moonweaver Why - While the Arch Heart - forefather of fey, Dawnfather - given the fire powers, or a double dip from the Wildmother are options, I think the Moonweaver best suits Fearne given how they're both known for their mischief and flirtiness. Also the Unseelie Court hate her so it'd be a nice dig at Zathuda. She also has a moon sickle, which may be the thing that gets enhanced if not her staff. Since the Titan shard already increases her firepower the Moonweaver could perhaps help with damage avoidance in an illusionary way, or improve her spellcasting and concentration saves.

Braius - The Lord of Lies Why - Braius is a difficult one actually. The As hole hasn't actually made contact with him so why give a vestige-like power? Problem is that there's not many other options given how he doesn't like the Primes. The Ruiner or Dread Emperor might be an option just for damage output. We've not seen too much of Braius but from what we've seen of him in combat he holds himself pretty well, so you'd probably expect something to enhance that maybe in a more hellish way. We'd also have to figure out how he'll contact a Betrayer in Vassalheim...

Dorian - The Changebringer Why - Dorian is the most difficult imo because although he's naturally good and considerate there isn't really a god he's been seen to lean on. I doubt he'd accept favour from the Matron or Wildmother after the Opal incident, but the god all about finding your own path may suit Dorian's mental state right now. The Lawbearer (to parallel with Orym getting the Wildmother's blessing), Arch Heart and Knowing Mistress are options too, but the latter already favoured a bard once before so you probably don't want to do repetition there. All manner of things can be enhanced for Dorian equipment-wise, it'll likely be an instrument though, which means their relic will likely enhance support and damage suppression.

Ashton - The Everlight Why - While I know the Coin of the Changebringer is right there, the Changebringer was FCG's god, not Ashton's - they have to walk their own path, providing that they are willing to accept a god's blessing. While the Ruiner may offer something to lure Ashton into given the promise of violence, or the Arch Heart proposing an enhancement of unique magic, I am sticking with my earlier mentioning that the Everlight is perhaps the god who can benefit Ashton the most as a person. It seems unorthodox but Ashton at their core wants to protect the people they care about; healing, temperance and redemption are all key to that, and like Fearne since the Titan powers increases their damage output already, perhaps Ashton's relic would be something to help them take more damage so others don't have to.

[zombifiedheartg]

Yandere Mike and alters( team up if you want! ) with a darling that is the most sweet,caring and calm person of the world! That would never ever make something bad and protects everyone!

If you can't is ok! Take your time,rest well and have the best day of your life!!!! 💞

of course <3 and thank u so much, ur so nice! i didn't include chester for this, i'm sorry !! , i'm so sorry this took so long & it was pretty short :( i rlly hope u enjoyed it raaahhha

yandere mike & alters x caring darling..

cw : delusion, basic yandere behaviour, obsession, mentions of harming ppl, violence in general, mal in general, mike being clingy, manipulation & gaslighting , sexism, jealousy of course .

.

mike

˚﹟🪐 'ಇ.

he thinks you're the sweetest thing thats ever happened to him!! your caring nature is so alluring to him, you're like a dream. most of his life he's been made fun of, ridiculed and just overall bullied.

but with you, it's refreshing not to be mocked almost 25/8. and you always defend him, it's so nice! he's attached himself to you, he's so clingy.. he never goes anywhere without you. where you go, he goes.

it's so suffocating and annoying not to have any alone time, but you'd never tell him that, you don't wanna hurt your precious boyfriends feelings do you? the guilt would just eat you alive!

you're an angel to him.

the weird glances you get from people as he practically hangs on to your waist are worth it.

he's more possessive than he'd like to think, he gets jealous sort of easily. i mean, he trusts you! you're most loyal person he's ever met! another trait he loves about you, but it's not exactly you he's worried about.

he just doesn't think any guy or girl that flirts with you actually deserves the attention you bring them.

mike can't help but think your kindness is a bit too much, people never actually repay the favour. you practically give the world to others and get nothing in return! it's so unfair,

he'd never treat you like that. you aren't a stepping stool to him. you're so much more than that, why can't you just properly accept his love?

he also loves how calm you are, you can easily defuse any situation. your aura overall is just enchanting, it's usually so hectic on the island, surrounded by people who are polar opposites, followed with chris's sadistic life-threatening challenges, you always make him feel at peace somehow.

and that's something he always longs for.

''god, you're so cute!''

.

manitoba

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🪒ɞ˚‧｡⋆

none of the diamonds and other valuable things he's found in his adventures compare to how much you mean to him.

you're a real sweetie, and he loves it!

your compassion has quite the charm, he's found himself with a few scratches here and there after a wrong turn during exploring, and to see your beautiful face up close as you tend to his wounds, he's never been happier.

but lets be honest here, he's kind of a sexist at heart. he prefers to be the ''chivalrous'' one. sure it gets annoying when he doesn't let you do literally anything, but you'd never tell him that.

you're like a pushover in his eyes. so he'd rather cling on to you to ''protect'' you. you obviously don't need protection.. you're perfectly capable. he's seen the way you handle yourself, you could kick someone's ass for him if he asked! he babies you.

but this way, it boosts his ego to see you immediately going to him for help.

and you can really tell someone off if they tried anything, you're so trustworthy. he's honestly obsessed with your company.

he gets quite jealous. he knows you like talking to people and just overall being nice to others, but he can't help it. that person's lucky to even get a spare glance. let alone hear your voice.

''you're a treasure, aren't ya?''

.

svetlana

༘ 💋 ⋆｡𓍢ִ໋🌹 .

oh you're a darling!

she adores how graceful you are.

you two are for sure the cutest couple on this island. you're the perfect person for her! you're just lovely to be around, she treats you amazing aswell!

she's one of the more tame yanderes. she's alot more gentle around you

she likes to teach you dances and such, sure she has way more experience, but she just wants to be close to you.

her love for you is passionate! she's so obsessed with you, you're always on her mind. and she always finds a way to include you in every conversation..

it's a bit of a problem for mike on the other hand. most of his friends are just tired of hearing about you, but svetlana can't help it! if anything, they should be glad to be hearing about you.

when you defend her, she just swoons!

and don't get her started on your beauty, your kind nature just intensifies it!

''your form is just wonderful!''

.

vito

༘ ⋆｡˚🎗

damn, you're a doll.

he's always around you with an arm around your waist, or your shoulder. it's kind of a way to let people know you're ''his''. and he just likes touching you

he always takes your basic human decency towards him as a flirt. every time you even interact with him he's filled with butterflies,

he likes how calm you are, and how easy you take his flirtatious comments with just a small giggle. it's so appealing, sure he likes it when you're flustered, for some reason he's attracted to your peaceful-ness.

he was already cocky, but now that he's with you, it's just intensified. he feels so lucky to be with you. but who wouldn't?

he brags about you so often, it's tiring.. but also endearing, you're always the first person he goes to when he has a chance, that's a thing alot of the yandere's have in common, they can't stand to be away from you.

he tries to impress you as much as he can, whether that be with his looks, or his strength, he just wants to hear words of encouragement from you.

he gets jealous pretty easily, even if you're doing something as simple as helping someone, i mean c'mon, only the vito should hear his belˈlettsa's voice! he knows its just the way you are, but jesus.

''ay, can't get enough of me, huh?''

.

mal

੭﹕ ̊ ̟ 🩸

god it irritates him so much, you're so nice and benevolent its infuriating. he wants your attention fully focused on him most of the time, how can that happen when you're too busy caring for some fucking dork that probably wouldn't even spit on you if you were on fire.

he only likes it when you're gracious to him. with the others though? no way.

he's for sure way more violent than the others, he'd actually hurt you if it meant you'd just fall in his arms.

and you totally just foil his plans, he knows if he hurts anyone that even dared to get close with you, they'd still end up with you somehow, except with closer proximity. which is worse!

but that still doesn't stop him. he'll go as far as to kill that person. he knows who you'll go to for a shoulder to cry on..

he also can't help but think your harmless nature is adorable. you remind him of prey, just so innocent and full of life. he thinks the fact that you won't do anything bad is sorta annoying because he finds himself getting scolded by you for nearly murdering someone.

''what, you think they'll give you the same treatment i do? you can't be that stupid..''

¿࿔💉࿔?

.

.

[ominouslywritinginmyhead]

iwaizumi hajime x reader; fluff/angst, feudal au

inspired by Philippa Gregory’s The Lady of the Rivers

wc: 998

The fire crackles in the hearth by the time Hajime returns home.

It has been a long, yet well-spent day: the bears are retreating into the mountains for the rest of the autumn, and Lord Oikawa will have a nice new bearskin pelt to show off when he visits the royal court next spring. All in all, a productive hunt. And the hunter is now hungry.

Your face glows from flickering orange flames as you prepare supper: a simple fare of rice, soup, and tofu with bonito shavings. A far cry from the meals you were once used to, but the contentment in your eyes is enough to make Hajime hope you don’t regret coming here.

Hana, the only maidservant brave enough to follow you to this out-of-the-way province, guides you in preparing the meals. “Yes, I think that’s enough, my lady,” she says patiently. “Just let it simmer for a few minutes, and it’ll be ready to eat.”

“Thank you,” you tell her softly. Your sweet yet measured voice brings the freshness of spring into the house despite it being a cold autumn night. The gods must favour him above all others, Hajime thinks, for why else would he be able to come home to such a beautiful, lovely wife?

Mere weeks ago, Hajime thought he was fortunate to escape with his life, never mind his bride and the small plot of land you two now call home. But as he settles into his fifth month of marriage, he finds that this shabby little estate is more blessed than any other place in the world. For this land, this house…they now hold the woman he loves the most. They hold his whole world.

You raise your head, and see him standing in the corner, watching you with the smallest of smiles on his lips. “Welcome back, danna-sama,” you greet, bowing deeply.

Hajime wishes you wouldn’t be so formal with him. This is not a royal marriage. The two of you can live as easily and freely as birds in the sky.

But even he knows the gods cannot grant him everything.

“I’m home,” he replies.

“Supper is almost ready,” you tell him. “Once you’ve eaten, I can prepare the bath. You must have had a tiring day.”

“I did,” he admits, joining you at the hearth. The warmth soothes him after a day out in the cold. A single brown leaf falls from his hair and onto the rough floor underneath. The house is old, and was hardly used before you and he arrived, but there’s nothing a few tools can’t fix. Hajime’s already made sure the roof and walls are ready to withstand the upcoming winter. He had better check on the firewood supply soon.

You dismiss Hana, who gives Hajime a friendly wink. He has known her a long time - ever since she was a lowly maidservant at the royal palace and he was a humble soldier pining for the young Emperor’s cousin. He wouldn’t even have known you loved him back had she not whispered it to him in passing on that beautiful spring morning.

“How did you spend your day?” Hajime asks, watching the soup bubble in the pot.

You think for a moment. “After you left, I checked the tools we’ll need to harvest the vegetables tomorrow,” you say. “Once I finished that, Hana and I brought in some water from the well. Then…oh, we went to the market to sell some pottery.”

“Pottery?” Hajime repeats. Then he remembers.

The delicate vases Hana packed so carefully as your exile was announced at court. The painted pots you had arranged so beautifully in your old rooms. The long-necked pot that was a gift from your father - the son of an Emperor himself.

Gone. All gone.

Along with the illusion he’s held in his mind all these months.

“We got a good price,” you continue, not noticing the drooping of his firm shoulders; the fact that you and Hana were able to drive a hard bargain has you lost in another world. “Danna-sama, you should have heard what they were offering us at first! Goodness me, if it hadn’t been for Hana, we might have been robbed! What would I do without her?”

Hajime thought he could provide you with a good life. He could scoff now at his naïveté: how is this a ‘good’ life when you have to sell the few possessions you were allowed to bring here? How is it a good life when you now reside in a shabby, worn-down wooden house, far away from the royal luxuries you called your own? How is it a good life when the former saiō of Ise Shrine, one of the most eligible royal brides in the country, is now living as the wife of a humble soldier, banished from court for making such an outrageous marriage? You and he were lucky to leave the court alive.

The night of your wedding, Hajime promised to keep you happy and safe. He’s already come close to breaking that promise.

He’s already failed as a husband.

“She chose you,” Lord Oikawa once told him, in the early days of the exile. “She could have had the riches of the court, but this is the life she chose. Don’t underestimate her: she knew what she was getting into.”

As your cousin (and now, unfortunately, Hajime’s cousin by marriage), Lord Oikawa knows you well, so perhaps he spoke the truth. Even so, Hajime’s heart twists into a painful knot as he watches your delicate hands - having known little beyond conducting rituals and writing poetry - stir the bubbling soup one final time before pouring some into a wooden bowl.

You gave up everything for him. You chose to give up everything for him.

The miso soup is saltier than Hajime is used to. But does it come as a surprise? No, not really.

At least you’ve turned back to the hearth - that way, you won’t see his tears.

Tagging @anonimusunnoaniswriting for funsies and because we’ve discussed this au in the past 😇

[sciderman]

Hello sci. Do you happen to have a list of reasons why the spiderman/Deadpool comic is ass because I haven't read it in forevers and I seriously can't remember all the details anymore😭😭 TRYING to convince my friend who's only read that comic and none of the others that it's not good but it's so embarrassing since I don't really have any good reasons with the panels to prove it💔💔 Anyways I figured I'd give asking you about it a shot since your always writing your paragraphs upon paragraphs about comics... Maybe you have a list or something. Plus I think the way you talk about things is nice n easy to understand. :3

bless you @deadpoolpie! i do think it's always best to form your own opinions about things but i'll never miss an opportunity to dunk on sm/dp because i'm always perpetumad about all the POTENTIAL and marvel just. never delivering.

i'm not going to do panels, because - that series is such a mess that i can't even bare to go through it again. i just can't do it. it's practically indecipherable.

so. i think the first misstep in sm/dp was the timing. it was just, ultimately, the worst time to start a sm/dp series. the spider-man and deadpool series did not work because spider-man and deadpool were not working in their own series either. it was the least spider-manny and deadpooly that spider-man and deadpool have ever been. spider-man was running parker industries, being a billionaire and basically, being entirely what peter parker was never meant to be. and deadpool was a member of the avengers, was also kind of a multi-millionaire - had employees on payroll, had a wife and a kid, and ultimately was busy being entirely not what deadpool should be, either.

it was a bad time to do a spider-man and deadpool series, because spider-man and deadpool were not, presently, spider-man and deadpool.

2. joe kelly is bad at writing spider-man. he's good at writing deadpool. he's good at that. but he is so. abysmally bad at writing spider-man, particularly when spider-man is standing next to deadpool.

joe kelly will, without fail, make spider-man look like an ableist jackass and - honest to god, do very little that makes us like him. i can't think of a single moment in the spider-man and deadpool series were peter parker is sympathetic. the only time he's ever painted favourably is when he is apologising to deadpool for being wrong. and he is. consistently wrong. he doesn't have a single moment in that series where he is not wrong.

3. don't like healed wade. think it's stupid. think the reasoning is god awful too, and you would not believe the number of asks i've gotten on the blog because of this, in the vein of "wow... wade's only scarred because he doesn't love himself... wade... why don't you try loving yourself..."

i want to boil spider-man alive for this scene specifically

5. the jokes aren't funny. this is subjective but. the jokes aren't funny. it doesn't land for me. it's dated pop-culture references and just... i don't know, i guess i'm not who it's for. i don't know who the jokes are for, but, not me. and i think most people i've spoken to who DO play overwatch throw up in their mouths whenever i whip out this panel.

6. i know there are other bits of this series not written by joe kelly. i don't like those bits either. i don't think they're as egregious because i don't know. kelly was setting the tone and the other guys were just picking up an already underwhelming series. by the time the other guys picked up the writing i'd already jumped ship. i already wanted nothing to do with the series. i've tried reading the series, start-to-finish, but - it really gives me no pleasure at all. there's nothing in there i like. like. nothing at all. and those readers i spoke to that HAVE managed to subject themselves to the whole series have all said they're ultimately disappointed. and yeah. i don't imagine it going any other way.

i kind of love myself too much to fester over this series and force myself to hate read it. there's so much good content out there i haven't read yet. so why force myself to partake of the bad. it's not my obligation. if it's bad and i don't like it, then it's bad and i don't like it. self care is choosing to forget that the sm/dp series exists and moving on with love in my heart and sunshine in my mind

[sheirukitriesfandom]

Belated Sujamma Sundas

Today, Sujamma wants to know about your OC's moral compass. What God do they worship and why? Do they engage in any illicit activities (drugs, etc?) Any holy activities, like healing in the name of a certain divine? Have they committed any crimes, or are there any crimes they actively despise? Feel free to talk about anything and everything along these lines.  

Tagged by: @theoneandonlysemla and @friend-of-giants Thank you! These things are a nice distraction from the current irl stress.

Tagging: @elavoria @thequeenofthewinter @rakaiawriter and @nostalgic-breton-girl Rashkan

Rashkan’s morality is flexible. As a vampire, his very existence is often criminalized and, although he's not out for violence, if attacked (or provoked in some cases), he will retaliate beyond what's necessary. In general, he’s not good at estimating how much mortals can take and he's killed both intentionally and accidentally, the latter still wearing on his conscience. The former, he justifies a la “The ends justify the means”. He also doesn’t mind other types of crime as long as they don’t affect him or his loved ones negatively. Helpful, considering how often Rethul’s crookeries earn them a place to sleep during their journey to defeat Alduin.

Rashkan isn’t religious. The Raven Rock temple seems to have some influence, but overall it seems the citizens are more concerned with their day-to-day lives, and Rashkan’s family was no different. That, and he got scared the first time they visited their ancestral tomb… he ran away screaming. 

Rethul

Rethul was raised with the teachings of the reclamations and, though not religiously, schooled in the ways of the divines--useful if you’re located in the Imperial City and the majority of your business contacts are Imperials. 

Rethul hated it.

He’s not religious in a traditional sense but will playfully toast to Sanguine or ask for his favour while playing dice. He’s not serious about it though and would be shit-his-pants scared if Sanguine ever offered him a deal. Daedra, undead, soultrapping--all those things scare him deeply since he greatly values his freedom (and that of his soul). Even when he joins the Dark Brotherhood, he rejects the cultish part of it and actually prefers Astrid’s methods.

Rethul cares about himself first and foremost. He doesn’t mind causing harm for personal gain. His only moral concern are children. Having grown up with three siblings and wanting to have some himself one day, he would never voluntarily hurt a child. He’ll hurt anyone harming children, though... ;-D

Valcarion

Valcarion is a devout worshipper of Dibella. Due to her not being part of the Altmeri pantheon, he’s developed his own way of worship: He’s a patron of the arts, takes great care to maintain a beautiful home (including a blooming garden with a shrine) and gives much of his wealth to charity. He’s also the most skilled lover from among my OCs…

As a Chief Justiciar of the Divine Prosecution, Valcarion doesn’t tolerate crime. However, he’ll turn a blind eye to certain behaviours that aren’t forbidden but considered immoral by altmeri society, even if he doesn’t approve. He’s a “hate the sin, not the sinner” kind of guy, except he’s not an asshole about it. He also doesn’t shy away from methods falling into that grey area if they help with his investigations. 

[formulaes5]

do you think god knows? (sneaking out of heaven)

Mark had just slid a hand down the back of Sebastian’s shorts to grab at his bare skin when the phone rang again, shattering their quiet moment. He reached out with a groan, smacking at the phone blindly. “Fuck. Off.” Or, five times that Seb and Mark were interrupted, and one time that they weren’t.

☆ 6.5k, M, ao3 ☆

1.

The phone was ringing. Shrill, continuous; rousing Mark from his sleep and instilling a deep, heartfelt desire to do nothing more than cover his face with a pillow and scream. All in all a fucking awful noise to hear at six in the morning. Mark groaned, slammed his hand down a few times in the vague direction of the bedside table and took smug satisfaction in the silence that followed.

Having dealt with the problem – unfortunately not quick enough to stop the noise from waking Seb – he rolled back over, tucking himself nicely into the nice warm body next to his. Seb shoved his face into Mark’s chest in response, snuffling a little as he woke. Mark smiled softly, feeling distinctly happier to be awake now that the noise had abated and he had Sebastian in his arms. He laid a kiss on the top of his head and pressed his nose into his soft curls, breathing in deeply.

Seb reached a sleepy arm around Mark’s waist, dipping a hand under his t-shirt, making a happy little noise as he stroked his hand down Mark’s back. They spent a few moments together, just running their hands over each other, trying to get as much contact as possible before their mouths came together, meeting in a soft kiss in the middle. Mark hummed into the kiss, licking into Seb’s mouth as he ran his hand down the plane of his back, sitting suggestively on his waist before moving downwards and squeezing a handful of Seb’s ass.

Seb laughed, before pushing at Mark’s shoulder, laying him flat on his back so he could swing a leg over and straddle him, deepening the kiss as they moved. It didn’t taste great — Mark could admit that — morning breath was doing neither of them any favours, but with Seb kissing him so enthusiastically, bearing down on him as he did, he could think of no better start to his morning.

Mark had just slid a hand down the back of Sebastian’s shorts to grab at his bare skin when the phone rang again, shattering their quiet moment. He reached out with a groan, smacking at the phone blindly.

“Fuck. Off.” he said to the offending device, hoping that the power of his displeasure alone would be enough to stop the ringing. Seb, helpful as ever, just giggled at Mark’s plight from above.

It stopped ringing. Victory – or so he thought.

“Hello?” came a quiet, tinny voice from the bedside table. “Hello, are you there?”

Mark lay there for a moment, tempted to just let whoever was ringing him think that he had poor service and hang up. His conscience won out – he hated when it did that.

“What?” Mark snapped into the phone, annoyed that his morning was being so rudely derailed.

“Seb?” asked the confused voice down the line.

“Uhm… no?”

Mark scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, pulling the phone away from his ear to look at the contact screen.

Heikki 💪👱‍♂️, read the screen. Seb’s trainer. He looked at the phone, feeling distinctly confused. The phone he was holding was blue. Like Seb’s phone… No, not like Seb’s phone, it was Seb’s phone, bee sticker and all.

“Wait,” said Heikki, confusion colouring his tone, “is this Mark? Why are you answering Seb’s phone?”

“Uh…” He looked up, shooting a vaguely panicked look at Seb, still positioned on top of him.

“Is he okay?” Heikki asked, worried now. Why would Mark be answering Sebastian’s phone this early in the morning? He certainly sounded half asleep, if a little pissed off. Why would Mark Webber, of all people, be answering Sebastian’s phone this early in the morning if not for— Oh. Oh.

Heikki definitely hadn’t seen that one coming, but in retrospect it kind of made sense in a weird, fucked up way. He’d seen first hand the way those two stared each other down, and it was honestly kind of scary. With that kind of rivalry there were really only two options: they’d either kill each other or they’d become insufferably codependent and start with the hand holding and the kissing and all that nonsense.

Heikki took a second to reorient himself to the drastic change in his worldview. Okay, Seb and Mark — a couple. Clearly they didn’t hate each other as much as everyone seemed to think they did. Unless the hatred was part of it. Heikki really didn’t want to think about that.

“Oh. Uh. Tell Seb I’ll come by an hour later than we planned then. Have fun.”

Have fun? Heikki groaned in despair as he hung up. Of all the things to say when you find out that your employer was dating his teammate – probably actively sharing a bed with him judging by the rustling and what might have been laughter that he thought he had heard in the background.

—

Seb propped himself up on his elbow, lifting himself away from Mark’s chest and resting his chin on his hand.

“Sooo,” Mark began awkwardly, “Heikki says he’ll be over an hour later than planned.”

Seb looked confused, “Why was Heikki call– ah… he wasn’t calling you.”

Mark looked at him helplessly, “Whoops?”

“Yeah…” Seb agreed, “Whoops.” He rolled off Mark with a groan, sitting cross legged on the bed facing Mark. The moment had been well and truly ruined by the combination of the initial interruption and the heartbreaking realisation that he had agreed to go on a morning run with Heikki, before he’d had his plans completely – and happily – derailed by Mark showing up out of the blue to spend time with him as they tried to work out whatever the hell was going on between them.

“So he knows then?” Seb asked.

“He certainly had a bit of a moment, that’s for sure.”

“What about my moment?” Seb whined petulantly, sulking just for sulking’s sake.

“Well you had several moments last night,” Mark responded with a laugh, “I’m sure you’ll live”

Seb let out a loud, exaggerated groan, grabbing a pillow and bringing it to his face before flopping backwards onto the bed. “Fucking Heikki,” he grumbled from under the pillow.

Mark cracked open an eye, “You better not be.”

Seb hit him with the pillow.

2.

They stumbled through the door laughing, still drenched in podium champagne as they groped at each other, Seb holding Mark by the unzipped lapels of his race suit as he walked him backwards through the small space out the back of the garage.

Even though he put on a good show complaining about it, Mark loved when Seb got bossy and assertive, when he was direct with what he wanted. It was all part of their game, the push and pull of their relationship — everything was a competition, and everything was something to be won. It was probably questionable, Mark mused, maybe even unhealthy, but when Seb started with the manhandling, all bets were off.

Like nearly everything they did, Mark knew this was just another high stakes game of chicken, another competition to see how far one of them could get their hand up the others thigh at a team meeting before being slapped away – Mark always won at that particular game – and he wasn’t going to be the one to fold first. For now at least, Mark was content to let himself be manhandled, and if he was completely honest, sometimes it was just nice to let somebody else do the heavy lifting.

Mark’s back met the wall with a dull thud, held in place against the brick by Seb’s tight grip on his race suit, keeping him pinned exactly where Seb wanted him. He raised an eyebrow teasingly, silently asking Seb what he was planning to do with him now he’d caught him.

Seb, never one to take a challenge lying down, immediately rocked up on his toes and crushed his mouth to Mark’s, answering his question soundly. He raised a hand to the base of Mark’s skull, pulling him down to meet him and pressing his hips forward into Mark’s, searching for that delicious friction they both craved.

Mark groaned into Seb’s mouth at the contact, having been keyed up since his close up look at Seb’s wide open mouth as he was doused in champagne, not to mention his front row seat to the show that was Seb’s pretty pink lips wrapped lasciviously around the neck of a bottle of champagne as he maintained direct eye contact. He pressed forward into the kiss eagerly, tangling his tongue with Seb’s and reaching a hand down to grab at his ass through the thick material of the suit, hauling him in impossibly closer in the vain attempt to just entirely melt into Seb, who was busy pawing across Mark’s torso in search of his zipper.

Lost in the intoxicating press of the kiss, Mark barely had time to notice the downward trajectory of his zipper before he felt Seb’s hand push underneath his fireproof top, briefly stroking over the flat plane of his stomach before moving on a quick collision course for a more southern region.

Even though he was expecting it, Mark still couldn’t help but break away from Seb’s mouth and let out a strangled gasp as he felt champagne sticky fingers close around his half hard length, stroking him from base to tip.

“Seb!” he yelped, vague panic mixed with arousal. Mark wasn’t entirely sure if their game of chicken covered outdoor workplace handjobs, but he was not going to be the first to tap out. Even though their game had never gotten quite this risque before, he had already conceded first place to Seb once today already, he had his pride to think of after all.

Seb looked up at him smugly, an almost maniacal grin plastered across his face as his hand moved under Mark’s fireproofs. He clearly thought he was the one winning here; that wouldn’t do at all.

Mark tried to wipe the stupid look from his face, really of the opinion that as the one getting a surprise handjob from his sort of boyfriend slash teammate out the back of the garage, he was entitled to a bit of a dumbfounded expression every now and again. Either way, he thought to himself, the victorious look that Sebastian was sending his way needed to be dealt with immediately.

Mark tightened his grip on Seb’s ass and rocked forward into his fist, bringing his head down to nip at Sebastian’s jaw, trailing open mouth kisses down the column of his neck, making sure to pay special attention to the spot behind the hinge of his jaw that was always a surefire way to pry the prettiest little gasps and moans from Sebastian’s mouth – all of course in the quest to thoroughly distract Seb from his ministrations as Mark rucked up his fireproof top for easier access, not because he liked the noises to an abnormal degree, of course not.

Right as things were taking a decidedly more heated turn, a noise in the direction of the back door of the garage snapped them back to reality. Seb tore his hand from the confines of Mark’s fireproofs, Mark jumping away from him as if he had been burned. They were both beet red, their swollen lips and mussed hair doing nothing for their case as they tried to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

“Oh. Uh…” the mechanic stammered, eyes wide and holding on tightly to a box full of car parts the same way a child would clutch at a security blanket, scared that if he let it go he would have to face the terrifying reality of the world alone – The terrifying reality in this case being walking in on your team’s two drivers wrapped in a heated embrace in the workplace, wandering hands leaving very little of the content of their interaction to the imagination.

“Uhm… Uh,” said Mark intelligently – or at least he was aiming for intelligent. For a brief, perfect, shining moment, Mark allowed himself to live in a reality where he wasn’t a fucking idiot. That was denial, then he moved on to bargaining. Maybe the mechanic hadn’t seen what had just happened. Maybe he wouldn’t have to move to the middle of nowhere and take up goat farming just to escape from the sheer embarrassment of being caught in the act by a team member.

The mechanic (Dave, according to the name tag printed on his shirt) reluctantly parted with his box, placing it on the ground to fish out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket in explanation, “I was just, uh… was just gonna uhh, well…”

“Oh um,” Seb began, the same halting embarrassment colouring his tone as he desperately tried to convey a calm confidence that a man in his position had no business even attempting to convey. “We were just, uh… Debriefing on the race,” Seb stuttered.

“Yep,” Mark agreed, nodding his head “debriefing.”

Dave looked less than convinced.

Seb tried to affix a casual look to his face, but was entirely betrayed by the bright red shade of his lips. He looked around for somewhere to lean. Somewhere casual. Leaning was casual, he thought as he found absolutely nowhere to do so.

“We’re done now though!” he said brightly, trying to ignore the elephant in the room, “We’re gonna leave now, all debriefed!”

The mechanic nodded, looking like he was considering their offer to clear out and let him smoke in peace, before presumably deciding that he didn’t need a cigarette that badly after all, and turning and scurrying back into the garage from where he had come, no doubt wildly confused and mildly distressed by the whole situation.

Mark closed his eyes and thumped his head back into the wall with an exaggerated groan. That career in goat farming was looking more and more appealing as the embarrassment sank further in. He just hoped that Dave would keep his mouth shut on this one.

“Maybe next time we do this we should make sure there’s a door,” Mark suggested blithely.

“Well,” Seb replied cheekily, seemingly unaffected, “there was a door there you know.”

“You think you’re just so bloody clever, don’t you,” Mark groused, before gesturing vaguely in the direction that Dave had just fled, “we should probably go before he realises that he’s forgotten his box though.”

Seb said nothing, just grinned his trademark stupid smug look that generally made Mark oscillate rapidly between long suffering adoration and reflexive annoyance. It was a beautiful grin, Mark reflected absently, a grin that really reached his eyes.

Maybe a career in goat farming could wait for now – he still needed to wipe that stupid grin off his face after all, even if it was unreasonably beautiful.

3.

Britta marched down the hallway towards the driver’s rooms; a woman on a mission. She stopped outside Sebastian’s room and knocked crisply on the door… No response. She knocked again, not wanting to use her key unless it was entirely necessary, having trained herself out of it after walking in on Seb changing one too many times before they had implemented the three strikes and out – or in – system.

Still no response. She knocked one last time, hoping that Sebastian would answer the door, but knowing that he wouldn’t. He’d probably just fallen asleep again; either that or he was wearing his headphones and couldn’t hear the knocking over his music. She rolled her eyes, tucked her paperwork under her arm and fished the key out of her pocket. She needed to talk to Seb, and she needed to talk to him now.

She pushed the door open with a sigh, then immediately wished that she hadn’t.

They were impossible to miss, laid out across the couch. Seb lay on top of Mark, kissing him enthusiastically, both nearly naked save for their underwear, Mark’s hand trapped between them, undeniably moving underneath the cotton of Sebastian’s boxers.

Britta turned around as fast as she possibly could, closing the door with a bang. That was certainly far more of Mark Webber than she had ever planned on seeing.

She paced down the corridor, hand pinching the bridge of her nose. This was going to be a fucking disaster, a trainwreck if it ever got out. She should definitely ask for a raise.

She heard a thump from inside, muffled cursing, the clink of a belt. A few seconds later the door opened again, revealing Sebastian – thankfully fully clothed this time. He looked a little winded, hair mussed, with a bright red blush colouring his cheeks and several darker red marks littered around his collar bones, partially visible under the loose collar of the shirt. Mark’s shirt, Britta would have guessed. His belt hung undone, bare feet on linoleum.

“Britta!” he chirped, still catching his breath as he stepped out and shut the door firmly behind him, “Hi!”

“Sebastian,” she began, trying to work out what she was even meant to say in this situation. She tried not to look at the marks under the shirt collar, failing miserably. She went with something simple, something that would convey her emotions accurately. “What the fuck?”

Seb folded like a house of cards. “Britta – I, we…” he stammered.

“What are you thinking Sebastian?” she whisper-shouted, “This is ridiculous, even for you! I mean come on – in the paddock! On a race weekend! You know what will happen if this gets–” She cut herself off, not wanting to spiral entirely out of control, “Actually, no. I don’t need to know,” she said firmly, “I don’t want to know.”

“I know,” he placated, “you’re right, it was stupid to do this here. I’m sorry.”

Seb looked at her, upset and embarrassed to have been caught in such a predicament. He was often so mature, so dedicated to his sport, that she forgot how young he really was in the grand scheme of things. “But this is,” he trailed off, making a decision, “it’s… it’s important, Britta,” he said softly, scuffing his bare foot against the ground. “It’s important to me… to us. It’s not just some fling. Please don’t be mad.”

She softened, seeing the worry in his eyes, the way he had brought his arms up around himself, protectively or soothingly she couldn’t tell, but either way he looked lost.

“I’m not mad,” she said gently, “not about the fact that you’re gay, bi, whatever. I won’t say anything to anyone either, okay”

Seb visibly relaxed, his shoulders coming down and his jaw untensing. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“But you can’t just do this here Sebastian,” she gritted out exasperatedly, “Some critical thinking here? Please?”

He nodded quickly, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck in silent embarrassment.

She opened her mouth and closed it just as quickly, really not sure if it was even her place to say what she wanted to say, then decided that it needed to be said regardless. “Just be careful,” she cautioned gently, “make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Seb nodded, turned to go back inside before she stopped him. “Look, get yourself together and I’ll be back in ten minutes, I need your signature on some paperwork. We'll talk about this then.” She jerked her thumb in the direction of the door, “Bring him too.”

Seb nodded distractedly, slumped against the wall as she walked off, before opening the door and walking back in to find Mark, now wearing jeans and one sock, pacing back and forth, worrying the hem of a far too small t-shirt between his fingers as he paced.

“We’re fine,” he told Mark, who nodded quietly, “she wants to talk to us though.”

Mark hummed offhandedly as he sat back on the couch, pulling Seb down with him.

“Is that my shirt?” Seb asked, running his eyes appreciatively over Mark’s torso.

“Well,” Mark poked him in the ribs, “somebody, appears to have stolen mine.”

“You like it though really,” Seb teased, glad that the tension had broken.

Mark just sighed, wondering why they couldn’t seem to catch a break lately.

“Yeah,” he said fondly, slinging an arm around Sebastian’s shoulders and smoothing his hand over the soft cotton of his shirt, draped over Sebastian enticingly. He pressed a kiss to Seb’s cheek, cautious not to let it devolve into anything else, “I do like it… makes you look all soft.”

He leant sideways into the warmth of Mark’s body, humming contentedly at the feeling of his arm resting around his shoulders, pulling him in closer to sit flush against his side, slotting into place nicely.

In what felt like no time at all, there was a bang from the door, “Sebastian!” called Britta, “Time’s up! You’d better be wearing clothes!”

Seb stood up reluctantly, grabbing Mark by the hand and hauling him off the couch with him as he made to leave.

“Wait,” Mark said suddenly, dropping a hand onto Seb’s shoulder to stop him opening the door, “swap shirts.”

“Yeah, that might be a good idea.” Seb said with a laugh, pulling off Mark’s shirt and swapping it for his own.

One day they’d get a moment to themselves, just not today.

4.

It had been a solid race for Jenson, and he was quite pleased with his third place finish, although obviously he would have liked to have finished a couple steps higher on the podium than he had, but a mistimed pitstop had dashed those chances for him. Third would have to do, he thought to himself, there was always next time.

He showered, dressed, checked himself out quickly in the mirror, craning his neck around to see if his ass looked good in his jeans. Approving what he saw, Jenson made his way out of his motorhome to go and harass Mark – a favourite pastime of his.

He knocked on the door of Mark’s motorhome as he entered it, which defeated the purpose of knocking entirely, but Jenson was firmly of the opinion that keeping the opposition on their toes was to be encouraged at all times. He found Mark exactly where he was expecting him to be, lounging on the couch inside. What he wasn’t expecting was Seb, also making himself comfortable on Mark’s couch, and to a lesser extent, making himself comfortable on Mark himself, who was, for some baffling reason, allowing Seb to rest his feet in his lap.

Jenson would have to check with Mark later that he wasn’t deliriously ill.

“You do know that entering a room is usually preceded by knocking and then waiting to be told to come in, right?” Mark griped in his general direction over his shoulder.

“Ah but where’s the fun in that then?” Jenson laughed.

In the time it had taken them to exchange words, Seb had moved his feet from Mark’s lap, making room for Jenson on the couch. Jenson considered the near nonexistent gap between Seb and Mark on the couch – it really wasn’t that big. In fact, it was concerningly small. He should probably fix that, Jenson thought to himself, it certainly wouldn’t do for a fight to break out between them. They were always arguing over something or other, and the closeness could certainly be a contributing factor to their animosity, though why they were hanging out by themselves in Mark’s motorhome was a mystery to him.

Jenson would just have to fix it himself.

“So,” he said, awkwardly squeezing himself into the gap between Seb and Mark, which felt even smaller than it looked, “any plans for tonight? Big party with the grid girls? That one DJ I saw DC harassing on his gridwalk? He looked like a party guy!” Jenson rambled, sure that if he just kept talking he could diffuse the tension between Seb and Mark before things took a turn for the worse.

Mark pulled a face, not thrilled at where Jenson had chosen to sit, and perhaps even less thrilled that he was there in the first place. He had been quite enjoying the closeness between him and Sebastian; the way Seb had been resting his feet in his lap, allowing Mark to take the opportunity to stroke over the smooth skin of Seb’s ankle, occasionally stroking up his calf as they discussed their races, well out of the haze of competition.

He was already missing the quiet moment that they had been sharing before hurricane Jenson had made its appearance, though he was also just glad that they’d managed to separate in the time that it took Jenson to work out exactly what was going on. Not for the first time in recent months, he cursed his past self’s lack of foresight – always lock the door. Always.

“Nah,” he said eventually, “we were just going to find somewhere quiet to get dinner, discuss the race a bit more together.”

A quiet night out, they had thought, then a movie on the couch when they got back in, and if Mark was hoping for a little more than dinner and a movie, well that would be perfectly okay too.

Seb shot him a look over Jenson’s shoulder as he revealed their plans. Somehow managing to combine incredulous and furious into one expression. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d done, but judging from the look on his face, he was about to find out.

“Oh good idea,” said Jenson, “what time were you thinking?”

“I don’t know, maybe an hour or so?” Mark replied slowly, not really sure why Jenson was so interested in his and Seb’s dinner plans, but figuring it couldn't hurt to tell him, if only on the off chance that they saw him while they were out and didn’t fancy making up something up about the nature of their outing on the spot to satiate Jenson’s curiosity. Not to mention that it wasn’t exactly a lie – they were getting dinner together, just not as teammates.

Behind Jenson’s back, Sebastian was rapidly swinging his hand back and forth across his neck in the universal please dear lord fucking stop it right now gesture that Mark only appreciated the significance of after it was too late.

Jenson got up from the couch happily. “I’ll meet you here then!”

Oh. Well shit, Mark thought to himself. This was going to be punishing. He was almost scared for Jenson to leave, lest Seb decide that the interruption to their long sought after date was grounds to start throwing things at him.

Mark let out a monumental sigh as the door closed behind Jenson’s retreating form. “I am… so sorry…”

Seb just stared. This was going to be a long night.

—

Jenson was quite pleased with himself as he led the way to the restaurant. Not only had he managed to prevent the argument that would have no doubt arose from Seb using Mark as a footrest if not for his timely intervention, but he was also going to be there to stop Mark from throttling Seb over the dinner table when they got to discussing the details of their race tonight.

Preventing Red Bull Racing from needing to find another star driver, not to mention a criminal defence lawyer for their other driver was thankless work, but somebody had to do it, so it might as well be him.

Trailing behind Jenson (significantly less enthusiastically) were Seb and Mark, hands brushing occasionally as they walked side by side, wishing more than anything that they could give Jenson the slip and finally get that date that they had been promising each other for the past few months.

They made their way into the restaurant eventually – a nice little Italian place with peeling laminated menus and an overly enthusiastic teenage waiter who Jenson was pretty sure would be asking them for autographs on their way out if he didn’t collapse under the strain of professionalism first as he directed them nervously to their table.

To Jenson’s eye, the restaurant didn’t exactly look like the kind of place that formula one drivers would frequent – it was small and out of the way, and generally seemed to cater to couples if the seating arrangements were anything to go off, with little candles in glasses flickering gently along the row of two seater tables that took up most of the restaurant.

Once they were seated and perusing the menu, having hummed along absentmindedly as Seb ordered them a serve of garlic bread to share, Jenson scooted his chair back a bit from the table, looking under the table to try to find some space to stretch his legs out without kicking Seb or Mark on the other side of the table. What he saw under the table made him pause.

Despite not looking to be sat very closely together from what he could see above the table, underneath was another story. Mark had one long leg stretched in Seb’s direction, pressing his thigh to Sebastian’s, as well as a hand resting entirely too high up on his thigh to be anything other than intentional and overtly romantic in nature.

Jenson looked up from under the table and took in the way that they were looking at one another. Surprisingly fond, with an undercurrent of something else. It was like they’d forgotten that he existed – he was almost offended until he realised exactly what was going on. Then he was just shocked.

Jenson came to the uncomfortable realisation all at once, putting the pieces together like an earth shatteringly obvious and easy to complete jigsaw puzzle. Seb’s feet in Mark’s lap earlier, the way Mark hadn’t even seemed bothered now Jenson thought about it. The soft smile that had seemed so out of place on Mark’s face as they walked together and now at the table, both pointed in the direction of Sebastian. It was just so bloody obvious.

Then he came to a more pressing realisation: Mark hadn’t actually invited him to dinner. Mark had said that they were getting dinner. He’d said “we”, like him and Seb were a unit – a couple. Mark had said that he and Seb were getting dinner, and Jenson had somehow managed to open his big fat mouth and invite himself to dinner with them. Specifically, Mark had meant that he, Mark, was going to get dinner with Seb — as a date — and now somehow Jenson was also on their date.

The tension that he had detected earlier wasn’t tension tension. It was sexual tension. Jenson felt like curling into a ball under the table and dying of embarrassment. He had single handedly turned what was no doubt supposed to be a nice quiet dinner into a double date, with Seb and Mark on the one side, and Jenson and Stupidity on the other. He understood the look on Mark’s face from that afternoon now.

Maybe if he was very subtle about it, he thought to himself, he could rectify his glaring mistake and leave as soon as humanly possible. Maybe he could invent a cousin with an emergency, that was a thing people did, he was pretty sure, or maybe he could say that he had a team dinner.

“Jense?” asked Mark all of a sudden, cutting through his panicked thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“You okay mate? You went all quiet all of a sudden.”

Now or never, Jenson thought, if he was going to escape from Seb and Mark’s date, he needed to do it now, or forever hold his peace. “Team dinner!” he blurted out in a rush, steamrollering over Mark’s response as he elaborated, “I’ve got a team dinner– forgot! Gotta go now!” he forced out as he stood up quicker than was strictly necessary, pushing his chair back with a screech as he went.

“What?” asked Seb, entirely baffled.

“Gotta go! Bye!”

Seb and Mark stared after him as he shot out of the restaurant like a bat out of hell, not entirely disappointed with this turn of events, but nonetheless surprised to see him moving so fast apropos of nothing.

“Does this mean I can have his piece of garlic bread?” asked Seb hopefully, turning his big blue eyes on Mark in an attempt to weaponise the attraction that he knew Mark felt for him in exchange for a larger serve of their shared starter.

“We could go halves?” suggested Mark bemusedly, squeezing Seb’s thigh once before getting up and moving around the table to sit down in Jenson’s abandoned place opposite Sebastian.

“I s’pose that could work,” Seb agreed, sticking his leg out to tangle with Mark’s under the table, “as long as I get to choose the movie later,” he negotiated.

“Deal,” grinned Mark.

5.

Team meetings, Christian reflected as he strode down the corridor, were fucking horrendous. They were bad enough when he’d only had to contend with making sure that Mark and Sebastian were sat far enough away from each other that they couldn’t kick each other under the table and feign ignorance when the other winced. Now it was worse — so much worse.

Now Christian had to deal with infatuated staring and bashful glances, not to mention the stress of the entire situation. He honestly couldn’t say that he would have ever seen this relationship coming, but in retrospect, the way that they snapped and bickered with each other did lend cadence to the entire idea. If they thought they were being subtle though, Christian was almost terrified to see what they considered to be obvious flirtation, because the wildly disorienting flip from openly antagonistic to whatever the hell this new dynamic was meant to be was — quite frankly — doing his head in.

He supposed that this was better than the alternative, which was that they killed each other before they even made it to the start of the season, but Christian thought that he could probably do without the blindingly obvious sexual tension that had sprung up between the previous and upcoming seasons. There was really only so much of that he could take before he was going to have to put his foot down and have the single most embarrassing conversation of his entire life with his drivers.

That, or he could just ignore it and hope they calmed down. Ignoring it seemed like the safe option — he’d certainly chosen to ignore it when they were doing their level best to kill each other. What more harm could he do by ignoring it?

By the time he made it out the door, Christian had decided that the ignore it option was his favourite. Unfortunately for him though, the world seemed to have other ideas.

Christian stopped next to his car, coming face to face with exactly what he had been so desperate to ignore. Parked next to his car was Mark’s car — Mark who had left well over twenty minutes ago, Seb in tow. Mark, who was making direct eye contact with him through the open window of his car as he removed his mouth from Sebastian’s.

Sebastian and Mark sat frozen in the front of the car, both leant over the centre console facing towards each other, looking slightly out of breath as they pulled apart. Distressingly, Mark’s hand stayed in place tucked up the back of Sebastian’s shirt.

Christ, he didn’t have the fucking energy for this. He had just decided to ignore this whole situation.

He took a second to orient himself, blinking rapidly and fiddling with his car key. “I’m going to turn around now,” he said calmly, trying to project as much tired disappointment into his voice as possible, “I’m going to go back inside and get myself a coffee, is what I’m going to do,” he continued, “and when I come back out here in five,” – he took in their dishevelled states, Seb’s hair sticking up every which way, kiss bitten lips dark and shiny under the lights of the parking lot, both of them eyes wide and sat stock still like deer in the headlights. A hickey high up on Mark’s neck – “no, ten minutes, I’m really going to need you guys to not be here.”

They nodded as one, slow and confused.

Christian powered on, “Then, tomorrow at our follow up meeting, we will not make eye contact, and we will not acknowledge the situation. Am I clear?”

They nodded again dumbly, and Christian took it as his sign to escape.

Fuck the coffee. He needed a stiff drink.

+1

Seb was perched precariously on the edge of the wooden dining table, his legs spread to make room for Mark between them as they traded languid kisses. He stroked his hand up Mark’s back, pulling him in closer as they made the most of their first truly private moment in a long while.

Mark ran a hand through Sebastian’s hair, tugging gently as the kiss deepened, not increasing in speed or urgency, just becoming that little bit more intense before they both had to pull away for air. He dropped his head onto Seb’s shoulder, closing his eyes and tightening his arms around Seb’s waist; pressing his nose into the junction where shoulder met neck.

“Seb,” said Mark cautiously, lifting his head up to meet his soft blue gaze, “can I say something potentially awful?”

Seb cocked his head, “Are you asking my permission… to be rude to me?” he asked incredulously.

“What? No?” replied Mark, blinking rapidly in confusion.

“Is that a thing we do now?” Seb continued, unphased by Mark’s interruption. “Do we ask permission now? Because normally I would just say whatever I want and then you would make that face at me where you try to look angry but you just kind of look constipated and— Mmrph!”

Seb looked down, eyebrows furrowed at the large hand that was suddenly covering his mouth, then flicked his eyes back up to Mark, waiting.

“If you just let me get a word in edgeways, I’ll tell you what I actually mean, yeah?”

He nodded from behind Mark’s hand, just about to give into the childish urge to stick his tongue out onto Mark’s palm before the hand was relocated, giving in to the urge to push a wayward curl back from where it had landed in front of Seb’s eyes.

“I know we’ve finally gotten five minutes privacy, and you know you’re beautiful, you really are, even when you won’t shut up — especially then — but I’m so fucking knackered… Can we just go upstairs and have a nap?”

Seb relaxed instantly, “Oh thank fuck,” he breathed in relief, glad that Mark had been the one to say it. As nice as it was to share an intimate moment with Mark, tonight he just wanted to sleep.

—

Mark lay back on the bed with a groan, pulling Seb down with him to rest his head on his chest, arm flung over his waist and a leg hooked over Mark’s. He ran a hand gently over Seb’s head, through his hair and over his cheek, stroking his fingers softly over Seb’s full pink lips.

He smiled as Seb pressed a gentle, drowsy kiss to his fingertips, then closed his eyes and let himself drift.

[britcision]

Gonna try and sneakily post after dnd let’s see how fast I can yeet this up 👀 new chapter!!

(I was kinda considering pushing out the porn parody to push me over one million words on AO3, but I have to be in the mood to write good smut, whereas I’m damn near always in the mood for crack, so here we are

The porn parody has been started though, and the first chapter is edging its way to completion. I will be starting an entirely new taglist for the porn parody though, so do say in the comments here if you would like to be tagged in the first chapter of that!)

I got to use a little of my actual real life work knowledge for once in my life, instead of my unending stash of random knowledge 👀 it’s a bold new world and I bet you ANYTHING Bruce never documents his code

Eleven million backup plans for if marshmallows take over the world, but someone else sits to debug the batcomputer? Zip. Nothing. Fuck them if they can’t read Bruce they aren’t authorised to touch it

As may be rather obvious… We’re right up in the bats again this chapter, and Bruce is going to make some Inadvisable Decisions 😈

I’m sure this will have absolutely no consequences whatsoever! This chapter also came in a little short, since there’s not quiiiiite enough space left to squeeze in our next scene, Danny Attempts To Make Jason Kill Him In A Motorcycle Accident

This means we should not brick ANYONES’ tumblr! (Like that’ll happen, my poor mobile using fellows)

Note: there is a reason why I’m choosing when to use our various vigi’s human names while they’re masked, I didn’t miss one on the “edit” that is formatting this mess for Tumblr 😁

First Chapter and AO3 link:

Previous Chapter:

——————

One Fine Day In The Middle Of The Night

About twenty minutes after dropping Danny off at his dorm, Jason was suited up and ready to go.

Well, he’d stayed outside until he’d seen Danny shut the door behind him first. Jason had some fucking manners, though if pressed he couldn’t name who’d taught him them.

It was a habit older than the streets, watching to be sure his friends got to safety.

Danny’s dorm was about fifteen minutes from one of Jason’s better safe houses, as it happened. Jason had never been to a dorm, but from Danny’s stories?

A step below Teen Titans’ bunks, and those had sucked. Less privacy, smaller rooms, and more people? Who weren’t even part of the same team?

Maybe next semester Jason could offer to let Danny move in. He didn’t need need the safe house.

Red Hood could always buy the building. There were other apartments and while they weren’t luxurious, they beat half his other spots. The neighbourhood wasn’t bad either.

It’d be nice to pay Danny back a bit. Not have him closer. Just. Repay some of the debt by giving him a place to stay, rent free.

And maybe, just a little bit, the part of Jason that enjoyed the romanticism of his period novels kinda liked the idea. An estate for the king on your lands was a big deal back then.

A slightly more modern part of him thought being a landlord for his ruler would also be pretty funny. He figured Danny would enjoy that side too.

And it wasn’t like the guy could complain, since he’d literally given Jason back himself. Yeah, Jason was gonna pull that one out if Danny tried any familiar “oh I can’t accept this” on him.

Fixing his core was pretty damn god level on the favours spectrum. Jason could do whatever the hell he liked and Danny would just have to deal with it.

It cheered him up a little more, kept him in a good mood on the ride back to his safe house. It was more time where he couldn’t help Cass, but seriously?

Danny could change in a matter of seconds and be at her side not much slower. Walls, cars, goons, Jason had this feeling that none of it would slow Danny down.

And yeah, knowing that helped, but there was still a piece of him that only unknotted as he slid his helmet on and headed to the window.

“Hey, Black Bat. Busy?” He asked as the comms switched from earpiece to helmet display.

Of course he wore both. People kept trying to steal his damn helmet. That was also what the internal explosives were for.

The others all piped up when they heard him, Harper and Steph calling cheerful greetings around an ongoing conversation.

“Shit, Hood’s in, this mean I can go back to bed?” Bluebird teased. Spoiler cut her off immediately.

“Hell no, it can’t be a school night, Robin’s here! Great timing though Hood, we’re planning Red Robin’s eulogy and you have some experience there,” Spoiler chirped brightly, and Jason hesitated.

Sucked in a breath. He wasn’t gonna judge anyone else’s coping mechanisms until they got past “heads in a bag” levels.

Best to ignore it, since she wasn’t actually trying to set him off.

What the hell had Tim done since they’d left the manor?

Shaking his head, Jason settled into Red Hood and hopped onto the fire escape, scaling easily to the roof.

“Black Bat?” He repeated instead of answering, and half smiled when Spoiler groaned dramatically.

Black Bat answered in the considerate group pause.

“Not busy. Why?” She sounded amused, not even particularly tired, and Jason relaxed enough to slip all the way in.

“Thinking of going a little out of my way tonight. Wondered if you’d mind a tagalong?” Red Hood asked, hoping he sounded casual.

It wasn’t like he’d been planning to patrol the Alley anyway; his guys had already been told to handle it. He’d have to run around tomorrow night to keep the creepers scared, but he could have a couple off.

The tiny pause before her answer didn’t quite feel like judgement, but Jason muted before blowing out the sigh as she did. It wasn’t like the others needed to know he’d been stressing.

“Sure. Meet at library?” She’d had his tracker up. Hood nodded, turning and running for the edge of the roof.

“Sounds good.” And they’d probably wound Spoiler up enough, she’d start plotting vengeance for being ignored soon. “So what the hell did Little Red do?”

“Brought Too Fine to the Bat Cave,” Spoiler told him with relish, not noticeably put out by the delay.

Not necessarily a good sign, since she was also this enthusiastic while actively plotting against him.

Wait.

Too Fine was Tucker’s hacker name.

“But he doesn’t know about us,” Red Hood said with a frown, catching an outcropping and swinging on.

“Oh, now you tell me,” Tim groused while the others snickered, “what a shame you didn’t think to when it’d have actually been helpful!”

News to Hood that he was on, probably still in the cave.

“He knows now,” Nightwing chimed in brightly, probably also travelling from the slight strain in his voice.

Hood paused for a moment, letting that sink in before attempting the next jump.

“Is he on comm?” He asked warily, because if Tim brought Tucker to the bat cave, it was entirely possible that they were all outed.

And that Tucker might tell Danny he was Red Hood.

Shit, he still had to text Harley. Resolving to do it once he hit the library, he set back to running, throwing himself across another street.

Black Bat would probably take a little longer to get there.

“He’ll be back, he’s in the bathroom,” Tim explained with a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “It’s not all bad, he’s given me the full story on what happened in Amity Park. Witness account and all.”

“From a witness you let down to the bat cave~” Spoiler sang sweetly across the air.

Red Hood could hear Oracle rolling her eyes as she cut in.

“Tone it down, Batgirl. Bluebird, if you’re still thinking of heading in, could you swing past one last site on your way?” She said firmly, then lightening her tone for their current guest.

“Batgirl who? I’m Spoiler,” Spoiler grumbled, but didn’t push beyond that. None of them did when Oracle invoked the name she’d had before any of them masked up.

Bluebird snickered at her before answering the question, a hint of exertion suggesting she was on the move too.

“I’m not actually in a rush to go home, O, I got all dressed up so I might as well enjoy one last hurrah.”

Right, because she’d be going back to school probably when Danny did.

Harper had always been a damn good hero in Jason’s books, but she valued her retirement and none of them really wanted to ruin it. Unless, apparently, seven bats just had to stalk Jason’s new friends.

Hood would have apologized, but frankly if she’d said no, some of the others couldn’t have come to the gala to be a pain in his ass.

And then he couldn’t have had so much fun fucking with them.

Fine. One cool fruit basket for the Row household, and some rainbow cupcakes for Cullen. He needed practice on frosting roses anyway.

Although that also reminded him.

“Hey Bluebird, have the others filled you in on Phantom?” He asked, cutting off some more background chatter from Spoiler and Tim.

Nightwing and the girls had had hours by now.

“What, your new boyfriend?” Bluebird asked sweetly, and Hood rolled his eyes.

Probably hit the important shit then.

“Sent you a picture?” He asked instead, decidedly not entertaining that question.

Nightwing and Spoiler snickered. Hood flipped off their general directions, settling himself comfortably on the roof of the library to wait for Black Bat.

There was a short pause, the others now wondering what he was getting at. Good.

“In and out of suit,” Bluebird agreed, curiosity tinging with mild suspicion. Being out of retirement clearly wasn’t good for her.

Hood nodded, pulling out his phone and shooting Harley a quick text. It might be moot now, asking her not to mention Red Hood shit in front of Danny, but he might as well.

He still had to ask if Waylon knew. Might as well ask. And see if Tucker knew when he got back.

“I know you’re outta the game, but keep the light show to a minimum if you see him around, okay?” He asked, scanning quickly over the list Danny’d cleared for public discussion.

He didn’t know if Tucker would have mentioned it, but he might as well. Cause of death was good, but Jason personally would veto “and the effects it may have now”.

Because fuck Bruce and his need for everyone to show him their weaknesses.

Bluebird definitely sounded curious now, and possibly like she was punching someone.

“Oh? He not big on the electricity?” She wondered aloud, and Hood grimaced.

Because if they were both at Gotham U in engineering… there was actually a chance Harper and Danny would run into each other.

Danny was older, but Harper skipped a couple years and he had no idea what year Danny was in. Fuck, they might be in the same classes. He couldn’t believe he’d never thought of that.

“Not exactly. You mighta seen him around actually, he’s an engineer too. But he’s not a fan of the electricity flying around,” he explained, Nightwing making background noises that told Hood he hadn’t put the pieces together either.

Good. At least he wasn’t alone.

Bluebird made an interested hum, and probably a finishing blow considering the satisfaction when she spoke next.

“I thought he looked familiar. But then, he’s total Wayne-bait. Yeah, I can keep the good stuff under wraps if I see him around. Gonna guess he’s had some bad shocks in the line of work?”

Hood hesitated and in exactly the same instant Black Bat landed on the roof. Sam had given them all the warning about talking about a ghost’s death, so he could leave it at that.

But…

The way Danny had looked when he explained about Vlad. Yeah, he’d rather they took this seriously. He didn’t want any of his family to hurt Danny, even by accident.

“It’s how he died. He won’t spontaneously combust or anything, but it’s a bad memory.”

Silence reigned while the others absorbed that particular detail, Black Bat crossing to crouch on the roof beside him. Hood leaned over enough to bump their shoulders together.

He could almost feel concern radiating off her, which was an extra weird experience after literally feeling all of Danny’s emotions half the day.

Guess that was where Cass’s liminality was going. It made sense, kind of; despite her occasional trouble speaking, she was pretty much the clearest communicator in the family.

Having another back up way to make herself heard would only fit.

On a whim, he tried projecting comfort back to her. Black Bat didn’t seem to notice, though whether that meant more on her part or his was the question.

She leaned in and bumped him back, her expression unreadable between the full face mask and the shadows.

“Heard and understood, Hood,” Bluebird agreed after a minute, her tone unusually solemn. Hopefully Dickie would take it to heart too.

The odds of Danny running into Nightwing weren’t great if he stuck to Blüdhaven, but Dick was a nosy bastard and there was always one “emergency” or another.

Better than the odds of running into Bluebird, although Harper would almost definitely look him up at school.

Maybe Jason should warn him.

“Maybe you could build him a faraday suit,” Spoiler mused, and Red Hood snickered.

“Handy, but then we couldn’t contact him,” he reminded her and she groaned loudly.

“Hey, if we’re both techies he’ll probably have his own idea. I’ll look him up out of costume, it’s my turn to say hi,” Bluebird decided, and Hood shot Danny a quick text.

Just a heads up.

A picture of Harper, captioned “beware of sibling. May be looking you up in class”. Black Bat giggled beside him, head cocked to watch the screen.

Harper wasn’t technically one of the Waynes, but if Waylon counted she definitely had to, and it wasn’t like Bruce picked his family. Asshole.

A few minutes later he got a message back from Danny.

‘DannyP: !!!!! I know her! 😳😳🤯 She does the cool nanobots! Half our year is betting if she’s a rogue or a vigi 👀 inside info??’

Which was fair, since just knowing Jason wouldn’t be much of a hint either way.

“He knows you,” Black Bat reported to the others, Bluebird immediately bitching that she’d been ratted out.

Red Hood mostly ignored her, texting Danny back.

‘JTodd: Neither anymore. She was a vigi, but she’s retired and getting her degree. No idea if she’ll come back after.’

“Odds you’ll change sides and go rogue, Bluebird?” He asked into a pause, and very much enjoyed the momentary stumped silence. “Apparently there’s a hefty bet.”

Momentary, because everyone had an opinion on that and had to share it. Everyone except Bluebird herself, who seemed to be thinking it over.

“What’re the odds for rogue?” She asked thoughtfully, immediately defending herself as the group booed. “What! I have student loans!”

“You are my villain arc, Red Hood,” Spoiler declared as solemnly as she could through laughter.

“I’m my own villain arc thank you so much, go find your own,” he refuted with a half grin.

“Ask Phantom,” Black Bat advised Bluebird in the meantime, which was probably fair. They weren’t good at staying on topic.

She then gave Hood another gentle nudge, probably for the same reason. Flicked off her comm for a moment.

“Wanted to talk?” She asked, and yeah, they probably should get back to it.

He gave a shrug, hauling himself up and holding a hand back down to her. Definitely not feeling guilty.

They’d tell her before anything became relevant. It just.

Well.

They were a family of fucking detectives, who could never leave well enough alone, and Jason really didn’t want them questioning his humanity.

Just once, he’d like to know something about himself before anyone else did. To have time to understand and come to terms with what he was before Twenty Questions.

Cass was very good at not asking questions though. And Black Bat turned off her comm first. Tim was distracted, probably with Tucker coming back because he’d been quiet.

No better opportunity was likely to come up.

And really, she deserved the same courtesy. Knowing about herself before the others did.

Maybe she’d have some ideas on how to tell them.

Making up his mind, Hood tapped his comms and hauled Black Bat up with his other hand.

“Hey O, gonna be offline for a minute. Text if you need me or BB, we gotta be radio silent.” There were enough possible reasons for that, he didn’t bother giving one.

Just so long as they knew.

Usually he’d just turn the comm off and swear at her if she turned him back on if he wanted peace and quiet, but… well, it was nice to hear the background chatter.

Nicer when the big Bat himself wasn’t in the field to tell them to focus.

“I always need you, baby!” Nightwing called just before he clicked off, and Red Hood rolled his eyes under the helmet.

Dramatic bitch.

He looked back to Black Bat, wondering where would be the best place for this talk. She was watching him patiently, not moving.

It had been her patrol.

“Is there anywhere on your route we can talk privately?” He asked softly, a little surprised at himself. He’d been the one who wanted to wait.

But that just made it his call who he decided to tell what, and when. And Cass… he trusted Cass.

Besides, it wasn’t like he was liminal. It’d give them something to think until he was ready.

Black Bat regarded him for a moment longer, then nodded and made her way to the edge of the roof.

“Follow.”

**

The night was wearing on, but Bruce was darkly satisfied that they were finally making progress.

Constantine’s pacing (replacing his smoking; Bruce may not have bothered arguing in the cave, but even Constantine knew better than to light a cigarette in space) had finally slowed.

Something terrible had happened in Amity Park, but even the magician was grudgingly admitting it was probably over. Left permanent scars, but getting no worse.

Unless it was on a cosmic level and would be a slow seeping problem for millennia, but Alfred had Opinions about Bruce concerning himself with issues on that time scale.

There was only so much they could do in the moment.

Another survey of the city was required, and in person since even the League’s best couldn’t take clear pictures of Amity Park.

A fact which didn’t seem to have stopped the Amity Parkers from photographing and sharing pictures of each other, according to his children. Constantine hadn’t actually argued when Bruce compared it to background radiation, so it must be close enough.

He also hadn’t done more than grimace when Bruce asked if he wanted to undertake the survey personally. That was as good as an enthusiastic agreement.

First, though? First they needed to call a meeting of the Justice League, primarily the heroes located in North America.

They had been horribly uninformed of what was going on right under their noses, and if Constantine was right… Amity Park’s problems had begun to spread.

To Gotham.

To his children.

Constantine’s grumbling that it was the miasma of death that hung over the city drawing them in had not inspired confidence, and Bruce resolved to have Zatanna over at her soonest convenience to explain.

Helping Constantine put together a report on Amity Park itself had more than convinced Bruce not to ask Constantine, even if he could have done it today. The man was…

Well. Bruce wasn’t looking forward to having to run him through the JL’s classification system again. Maybe one of his children would want to go and handle the technical side.

All he had to do was finish preparing the presentation, call the League, and he could rest. It would likely take a day or two to put a full meeting together, but he could at least fill Clark and Diana in tonight.

He could sleep in between. Just for a little while.

Right after he showed Constantine how to configure the alerts from Amity Park to direct to the Justice League Dark, not the spam folder. They hadn’t sent one in years, but he was determined not to miss any changes.

That should have been the easiest part of this whole mess. It was just a simple form, with a basic test button to ensure it worked.

Nothing too complicated even for a man who’d decided “no reply needed” meant the same thing as “too dangerous for anyone but JL Dark”.

Fine. It was fine.

Bruce loved making training videos to highlight the most basic functions of a system and ensure that people actually understood what the various controls meant. Wonderful.

It meant that they could work in parallel for a while, Bruce on the presentation for the League, Constantine to fix his mistake. In a blissful silence, even.

It couldn’t last.

“It’s not working, Bats,” the magician declared, pushing back and away from his computer. Probably to pace again.

Bruce closed his eyes, breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, and made his way across to frown at the monitor.

“Did you save your changes?” He growled, doing his best not to let the irritation show. It was getting harder every time.

Constantine rolled his eyes, definitely not helping, and pointed at the screen.

“See for yerself. Look, JLD Top Priority, like ya said. And then ya hit the top button to save, and the red button to test it, and nothing happens.”

He waited impatiently while Bruce clicked through the buttons, seeing it for himself.

Constantine wasn’t wrong. That was unexpected.

Brows furrowing under his cowl, Bruce checked the deleted requests. Three test messages from “Amity Park”.

“Hn.”

“Someone’s fucked ya system,” Constantine commented dryly, sounding unduly pleased that it wasn’t his fault.

Something other than his haphazard filing had apparently been causing some of their problems. Bruce… just didn’t have the time tonight.

He nodded over to his screen instead, pulling up his wrist computer to send a private message to Tim in the cave. How long could a tour take?

Tim could find what was going wrong long before he’d have the time.

“I’ve compiled most of the presentation on creatures of the Realms. Is there anything important I should add?” He asked gruffly and Constantine sighed dramatically and flounced over.

Bruce firmly ignored Steph’s voice in his ear.

Not because he didn’t agree, whatever a “woobie” was.

He just needed Constantine’s once over to confirm he had all the pertinent information, and then he could call Clark and Diana.

Head home.

Get to bed.

“Looks fine. I should check yer damn revenant some time soon too though.”

Bruce froze, finger just above the send button on that tech request to Tim.

His fucking what.

**

Black Bat led them easily across the city, along what was probably her normal patrol route. Taking her cue from Red Hood, she didn’t rush, but soon indicated that they turn off into a small alley between two warehouses.

Hell, not even a proper alley. A gap where the buildings hadn’t quite smushed together.

Red Hood recognized the area from Nightwing’s bitching; there’d been a bust here last week, and something had cloaked the whole block from surveillance.

These days, he was almost tempted to check what Danny knew about it. Ghosts fucked with technology in ways none of the bats would find.

Black Bat stopped them half way down the gap, feet braced against one wall and her back to the other, leaving her “sitting” about twenty feet off the ground.

Hood matched her a little further down, grumbling a little at the crush. Almost a foot taller, it wasn’t exactly a comfortable position for him, but he’d held worse.

They were stable, and damn near impossible to observe. This was as good as they’d get.

“So,” he began, and immediately realized he had no fucking clue what to say.

Black Bat’s flat, expressionless mask was not helpful.

Hood wished he could pull his helmet off, just to run his hands through his hair. But they were on patrol.

Black Bat just waited, silent and patient while he wrestled with himself. Finally he decided to just spit it out.

“Danny died, and came back,” he said in a rush, glancing over to her.

Black Bat nodded.

“Like you.”

“Like us,” Hood corrected, groaned, and switched off the voice modulator. Actually, fuck it, he had his domino on.

He pulled the helmet off, balancing it in his lap. He could shove it back on if it came time to go.

Black Bat was beside him now, almost close enough to touch. Close enough to lean in and bump their shoulders together.

“One main difference,” she noted thoughtfully, then tapped her chest, “no skin change.”

Which, yeah, Jason had been hoping to emphasize before any of the family got too far down the right track.

“Right,” he agreed, leaning back to stare blankly into the smog of Gotham above them.

Fuck. How do you even say it? How do you tell someone they’re not fully human anymore?

Someone like Cass, who’d been raised to believe she’d never been human, by force. Just a weapon.

Her hand was in his now, and he couldn’t be sure if he’d reached out or she had. He stared down at their laced fingers instead.

“You know how people get when they spend too long around the pit water,” he began slowly, trying a different path.

Cass had been raised around the League of Assassins. She knew.

And took the change of topic fully in stride, nodding and giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Erratic,” she mused softly, her face tilted to the wall across, “unpredictable, especially if they went in.”

No one was going to say Ra’s Al Ghul was an unstable mess of a man, but no one had to. Still, how controlled he was was impressive, especially after you saw what mere exposure to the fumes did to other people.

Red Hood nodded, sighing softly.

“Danny’s parents kept it in the fridge. He was… exposed long before he died,” he explained quietly.

If he was talking about himself, he’d say “contaminated”. Hell, it was the word Danny used when explaining it to the bats.

Jason just couldn’t use it about Danny. It just wasn’t right.

Black Bat stilled, almost enough to be mistaken for a statue instead of a living being. Was that her liminality too? Or just her training?

Red Hood couldn’t stand it either way, giving her hand a gentle tug.

“He told me… being around it too long can change a person, even if they never get dunked,” he said slowly, trailing off again.

“We got dunked,” Black Bat said quietly, her hand curling more tightly around his. There was no hint of emotion in her voice, and Jason hated it.

Pulled her closer, doing all he could to project comfort-sorry-concerned-love you. Wishing he’d asked Danny to teach him to do that first.

Neither of them had really considered he’d need it, since Danny was so good at reading him. But he needed her to know she wasn’t alone.

Her shoulders hunched suddenly, body tensed to spring until her head snapped round to focus on him.

He could… he could feel surprise from her. Maybe it was working.

He gave a graceless half shrug, grinding his shoulders against filthy bricks.

Tried to project yeah it’s weird for me too, but wasn’t sure how well it came across. Anything beyond pure feelings was a little tricky for him to push, though he could usually work out what Danny was saying.

“We got dunked,” he agreed quietly, resolving instead to wrap her in love-protect-safe-safe-safe, “and sometimes… that changes you even without a flashy transformation.”

It was an awful explanation and he knew it, could practically feel her eyes darting all over his face, his posture, reading things he probably wasn’t aware he was showing.

Then she relaxed all at once, settling in and leaning part of her weight on him as well as the wall. He braced automatically to take it. He wouldn’t let her fall.

“He called it being “liminal”,” he explained softly, working an arm around her shoulders above the wall to coax more of her weight onto him. “I don’t know what it means for you yet, BB. But nothing bad. He was sure it wouldn’t be bad.”

Black Bat made a soft humming sound, obediently shuffling so he could wrap his arm around her. Looking down at their still twined hands.

“Can feel you,” she said softly, hand rising to tap gently against the red bat on his chest. “Big brother.”

It startled a bark of laughter out of him, because… well, yeah. A good way to sum up everything he’d wanted to tell her without words.

Felt a quick rush of satisfaction from Black Bat, and tried to answer it with relief-agree-protect.

“Yeah, that’s the fuckin’ weirdest part,” he agreed dryly, almost felt the rush of her giggle more than he heard it. “Apparently some liminals get this… aura around them. Sharing what they feel. I didn’t know if you would…”

What? If she’d notice? If she’d be able to feel the same things?

Black Bat nodded, head tipping up to meet his gaze once again.

“Robin? Batman?” She asked, and Jason hesitated.

He couldn’t talk to either of them about it. Not yet. Bruce would fucking push, he always did, and wouldn’t stop until he tore the secrets out of him. Damian would just run to Bruce.

But it was a valid question. And they did sort of deserve to know just as much.

For now he took refuge in what he knew, shrugging it off.

“Danny thinks they’re liminal, but… not as far along as we are.”

Not as close to death. Not as close to not being human, although technically they were both legally non-sentient, so that was fun.

“D’you really think either of them have the emotional bandwidth to share?” He tried to joke, covering the moment.

Black Bat just stared at him until he fell silent. Then nodded.

“Should tell them. No rush,” she added almost before Jason could tense, leaning back in and resting her head on his shoulder, “have been for a while, yes?”

Jason paused a moment longer, shook his head, and snickered.

“Cannot believe I ever doubted you’d be able to do the whole “emotional telepathy” thing,” he grumbled good naturedly, and Black Bat glowed with gentle amused.

“Better than you,” she told him archly, sounding for a moment like Steph when she was teasing Tim. Jason gave her a squeeze.

“Don’t I know it. But yeah, it’s not a new thing, and won’t mean anything to anyone unless one of us dies again.” Which he wasn’t going to think about.

Shit, someone said Robin was out tonight.

Nope. Not thinking about it. Robin had been patrolling for years, and as much as he whined about his solo patrol route, he never deviated.

Not after Oracle had highlighted his route on his wrist computer for him and proved she could see every footstep. She wouldn’t necessarily tell Bruce, but she’d always know.

Black Bat nodded, resting against him for a moment longer before sitting up again.

“You want to wait.” It wasn’t a question, but he felt compelled to answer.

Picked up his helmet, turning it over slowly in his hands. But of course she’d understand. She always did.

“I want to know what this means to me before I have B poking and prying into every part of my life,” he said quietly, staring into the eye slits of the helmet.

Black Bat ruffled his hair.

“Can wait,” she agreed gently, switching her position to have a hand and foot on either wall. Ready to move on. “No rush.”

Red Hood pulled his helmet back on and matched her, the pair climbing quickly out of the crack between the warehouses. It almost wasn’t worth saying, but…

“You can tell the others if they ask. I just…”

“Don’t want questions,” Black Bat agreed lightly, flipping up onto the roof. “Can ask Danny when the time comes.”

“Yeah,” Red Hood agreed, crouching beside her. “Mind if I stick with you on patrol tonight?”

He sort of hoped she’d think it was unrelated, but another moment of stillness passed across her as she regarded him.

“Until we die again,” she repeated his own words, and Hood was pretty happy she couldn’t see his face anymore as he grimaced.

Not that it mattered, another shot of amused shooting between them, followed by a much softer appreciated.

At least she wasn’t judging him for being a mother hen.

“Understand.”

**

Tim and Tucker had made quick work of the interview, and Tim was pretty much running out of questions when the batcomputer pinged with an incoming message.

Tucker gave it a longing look and Tim chuckled softly, wheeling himself over.

“Hang on. Might be one of the others out on patrol,” he explained, right clicking to pull up the monitor that tracked the bats’ various dominos out and about.

Tucker stared up at it politely, diverting his attention from what Tim was doing on the other screen, no matter how curious he was. Showing trust and all that.

It was actually really cool too; he’d not really seen a map of Gotham, and having one superimposed with little glowing lights of the various heroes on patrol was really cool.

It wasn’t really zoomed in enough to tell if Bluebird was actually in a fight, but the little blue dot seemed to be the only one standing still, so Tucker assumed she was.

How cool would that be? Watching just normal human vigilantes fight and take down bad guys?

Although off the top of his head, he could already think of a couple of things to add to the monitoring program. They might already be there, he hadn’t clicked around, but like.

Vitals were all well and good, down in the corner next to each hero’s name and the colour of their dot, but just the heartbeats? That wouldn’t tell you enough.

Tucker preferred brainwaves, because then you could tell if they’d been hit with something or overshadowed.

Although maybe it was because he’d spent his time keeping track of a guy who pretty regularly did not have a heartbeat. And it also gave him more data points for some of his cooler side projects.

Understanding the different brainwave patterns an individual made in different situations was a key part of neural mapping, and adding it to the bat’s routine would get him a ton of data.

And then they could really play Mariokart.

He’d have to ask Tim if they tracked any of that later. Not all the bats wore helmets or cowls that would support the electrodes, apparently. Although if Danny could get his hands on a domino…

Tucker was snapped back to the here and now as Tim pushed back from the batcomputer, a wry grin on his lips.

“Actually, I think this might be something you could help with, Tucker. If you don’t mind a little work on your night off?” He teased, back to Tucker’s complaints about a night of fun and tech.

Like getting to play on the batcomputer did not absolutely count as fun and tech.

Tucker beamed, excitement welling up in him and cracking his knuckles. It’d be pretty cool to assist a human vigilante too. And on a tech problem!

Gotham was fucking great. If Tim really meant it about getting him an internship, Tucker might have to see about switching schools.

MIT was great, but it wasn’t Wayne Enterprises, personal meetings, or personal tech demonstrations with Tim Drake Wayne!

“Sure! What’s going on?” He asked, shuffling over to look at the other screens now that he had permission. Making sure it was obvious he hadn’t been looking.

Resisting temptation had been hard. He deserved credit.

Tim nodded to the screen, and that? That was a message from Batman. Bruce Wayne. Batman.

Tucker scanned the message, eyes widening even as Tim spoke.

“Wanna help debug the Watchtower?” Tim asked, and Tucker clutched at the back of his chair as his heart leapt, swooning just a little.

The Watchtower. The actual Watchtower. In space. Oh he was shoving that in Danny’s face for not telling him he was friends with the Bats!

There was only one real question left.

“Will Oracle be here?” He asked eagerly, looking around the rest of the screen.

A soft chuckle played from a speaker in the bottom corner, and Tucker jumped half a mile as a masked voice spoke.

“You boys have fun with this one, I’ll keep an eye on the city. If you finish early you could walk me through that server of yours?”

Oracle.

The Oracle.

They were real, they talked to him, they wanted to talk about his locked down servers! Tim lunged to catch him as Tucker collapsed, knees giving out under the swell of emotion.

All of his dreams were coming true, all at once.

He’d never been happier.

**

Danny was having a pretty quiet night in. That didn’t used to be unusual while he was in Gotham; having time to himself was still pretty much a novelty, and he wasn’t exactly a party boy.

Of course, it was a night in with some of his parents’ inventions and recently one or two of his own, so the actual “quiet” part was negotiable.

Quiet enough not to piss off his dorm mates, but luckily most of them were engineers too. They may not always know what he was doing, but they were usually interested.

Tonight, he was alone, most of the floor still being home for the holiday. That had been one of the things he’d looked forward to most about staying behind, but…

Well, after his noisy and action packed few days… he was lonely.

He wished he’d asked Jason to stay. Just because he’d said he was going to bed didn’t mean he had to do anything of the sort.

It was just that Jason had been… tense. He’d not even gotten off the bike when they arrived, just pulling over and chatting for a minute before heading out.

Like he wasn’t fully comfortable going into Danny’s place, which was kinda fair. Unlike Jason’s apartments, Danny’s dorm was a communal space.

Even if most of his dorm mates weren’t home, there was still a chance one of them might turn up. And then Danny would have someone else bugging him about his “boyfriend”.

Nope.

Besides, he’d see Jason again at 11am (he had this horrible feeling Jason might be a morning person), so it wasn’t even all that long. He should probably just go to bed.

He should check his class schedule, actually. Work out what days he’d have free, work out when he and Jason could skip to the Zone for fight club.

Wait.

Would Jason be free.

What the hell did Jason do for a living? He’d have to ask at some point, Danny mused, logging in and taking a screenshot of his class schedule for the new year.

For now, it was probably best just to send Jason the picture so he’d know when Danny was free, and then Jason could work out a good time for them to go and it wouldn’t be Danny’s problem.

Excellent. Sheer genius.

Humming happily to himself, Danny pulled up Jason’s number and sent the picture of his schedule, with the caption:

‘Let me know when ur free for field trips 👊🏻💥👻’

Eyes closing for a moment, Danny let his awareness drift out across the city. It wasn’t something he’d done a lot; Gotham wasn’t his haunt and he didn’t want to step on any toes.

Usually he’d just expand his conscious aura if he was looking for someone, but knowing how much Jason didn’t like it… well, his passive aura covered most of the state, so reaching through the same city couldn’t be all that hard.

Right?

Frostbite could find anyone, anywhere in the Far Frozen with little more than a thought. And was convinced Danny would be able to do that with the entire Zone, some day.

Danny was a little less convinced. Past the background awareness that he was no longer in Amity Park that had taken months to fade, he’d never really paid attention to his passive aura.

It’d be too tempting to feel out the rogues, or at least react to the sudden surges of aggression and danger. But he hadn’t had anyone to protect before, and he knew Jason would feel better knowing Danny could.

That was kinda why Danny hadn’t mentioned how theoretical this particular ability was, although he had no doubt he’d recognize Cass’s energy if she came close to death.

Which meant he should totally recognize it while she was alive, well, and had more energy, right?

He had no idea where she was, which parts of Gotham fell on her patrol route, but that kinda helped. It meant he couldn’t trick himself by focusing on a particular area.

Surprising precisely no one though, he found Jason first. The other halfa almost glowed when Danny was focusing on his energy, a bubbling little ball of yellow and red.

He… was maybe with Cass? Danny’s brows furrowed, nose scrunching as he tried to focus without changing his aura.

He was definitely with one of the liminals. And that quiet little light, almost blue, felt sort of like Cass. When he forced himself not to be distracted by Jason’s brighter glow.

Eyes snapping open, Danny’s concentration broke and he frowned up at the ceiling.

Well, that explained why Jason was in a hurry to get going. He was no expert in Gotham herself yet and had no idea where the two of them were, but if he tried again he could probably work it out.

Did Jason still have a suit? Or did he call Cass in, find something he could do as a civilian to have her help?

Shrugging to himself, Danny dismissed the question and hauled himself up. Might as well get to bed; they’d be back together in the morning and he could always ask.

**

Tim was scrolling through the code for the alert messaging system itself while Tucker went through the sections that pertained to Amity Park specifically on his PDA when the other boy made a sudden, startled squeak.

Tim considered pretending he hadn’t heard, but there was a chance he’d found the answer. So he glanced over.

“Any luck?” He asked, noting Tucker’s sudden strained expression. Maybe the guy needed the bathroom actually. They’d been down here a while.

Tucker laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“So… uh… what exactly does the bug we’re looking for do?” He asked in a small voice, looking more embarrassed than Tim had ever seen.

Which… was not a proportionate response for that noise. And a question that they both probably should have thought of sooner.

He’d meant to mention it, since they’d have to explain it to the Amity Parkers at some point.

“So… remember how the Justice League never responded to an alert from Amity Park?” Tim asked not a little sheepishly himself.

Tucker nodded, not actually looking any less embarrassed himself either. That was definitely a great sign.

Tim sucked in a deep breath and forged ahead.

“So, it turns out there’s a bug in the Watchtower’s systems, where anything coming in from Amity Park gets marked as spam and funnelled straight into trash. We fixed the marking as spam thing, which I guess was user error, but it’s still-”

“All going to trash,” Tucker finished with a sigh, grimacing and shaking his head, “aaaaand I think I know why. But the timeline doesn’t make sense?”

That… that wasn’t even on the same continent as what Tim’d expected he’d say.

“The timeline?” He asked, brows furrowing, sliding over to peek at Tucker’s screen.

Tucker shook his head again, angling it so that Tim could see… a section of code that shuddered faintly in and out, almost disappearing entirely every few seconds.

That.

That was not a thing that should be happening.

Tim would have loved for it to be a simple screen glitch, but it was only that one small section of code. The lines above and below were fine, and Tucker could move the flickering chunk up and down.

“Yeah, this is your problem,” the Black man sighed, wiggling the section demonstratively, clearly aware of Tim’s shattered hopes.

Heartless man. Genius man.

“You’ve had ghosts in your back end. Probably wouldn’t even show up on an uncontaminated device. Which, by the way…” he trailed off, and Tim shook his head immediately.

“Not tonight. No changes to the batcomputer without Bruce’s say so,” Tim said firmly, since he’d already fucked up once. Might as well limit the damage.

Tucker shrugged and nodded back to the section of code.

“Okay. But this… this was definitely Technus. And that makes no sense? He’s a spirit of technology, we’ve fought him a bunch of times, but if he got into the Watchtower’s code he wouldn’t just… hide,” he tried to explain, adjusting his beret fussily.

It totally wasn’t adorable.

Tim did his best to keep up though, nodding along and thinking back over everything they’d been told about ghosts so far.

“You think we’d have noticed?” He asked, and Tucker snorted.

“He likes making giant robot bodies out of toasters, you’d definitely have noticed him on your space station,” he agreed dryly, then sighed.

Frowned down at the tablet again.

“I mean, Danny could make him do it and behave himself now, but if these changes were active during the whole Pariah Dark thing… I dunno, Technus should have been a way bigger problem. He’s not subtle.”

Tim frowned, thinking about what Tucker had said and then pausing.

“Danny could make him behave now?” He asked and Tucker pulled another face. Like he hadn’t meant to say that.

“Well, yeah, Danny’s miles out of Technus’ league now,” he tried to brush it off with a laugh, “the guy knows he’ll lose any fight so he’s really not a problem anymore. We have hackathons,” he added and Tim really wanted to know more about that.

There was just. Something off about Tucker’s answer. Not the content itself, just the way Tucker clearly wasn’t saying something.

That was a problem for future Tim though. Present Tim had a job to do.

“So can you fix what he did?” He asked the important question, and Tucker made another face.

“Dude… whoever or whatever made Technus do this, will probably notice if we fuck with it,” he said warily, and Tim shrugged.

“Whoever or whatever made Technus do it couldn’t do it themselves. How would they know?” He shot back, and Tucker chewed his lip.

Shook his head.

“Lemme text Danny. He’s the ghost expert, he’ll know how much we should worry about this,” he explained quickly, pulling out his phone and shooting off a short message.

Tim gave him his very best deadpan expression.

“How much we should worry about technology ghosts getting into space and fucking with Justice League HQ. I have the feeling the answer is “a lot”?” He offered sweetly, and Tucker snickered.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see. Might actually be alright, if this is all he touched. And, since you won’t let me juice the big computer, we’d have to scan the whole thing through my PDA. Every line of code,” he added, like Tim wasn’t already dreading it.

Tim sucked in a slow breath, weighing his options.

Touching the batcomputer? Ultimate no-no. But Tim’s personal laptop… it had access to the Watchtower’s systems, and was under Tim’s personal control.

And would let Tim go through the sensitive data himself, which the core code of the Watchtower was full of. The question was, did he trust Tucker not to install anything dangerous?

That question had been answered the second he asked Tucker to help him debug though. Clearly the guy could already put what he wanted, where he wanted, and with their current tech?

None of the bats would ever know. At least if Tim’s computer got the update, he’d have a chance at spotting ecto-infused code.

There were other computers they could use of course, old or unnetworked computers that Bruce would probably insist they start with.

Which wouldn’t be able to access the Watchtower’s servers, and couldn’t hold the whole thing to be able to run a useful check.

The answer really was kinda obvious.

Tim looked to Tucker, who’d been texting away while he thought things through.

“We can’t do the batcomputer, but is there anything you could do for my laptop tonight, or do we have to wait on Danny still?” He asked, deeply regretting that they’d gone to video games instead of the tech upgrade.

At the time he’d been planning on having a burner laptop done though, so it probably wouldn’t have been as useful.

Tucker shrugged cheerfully and slid his phone into his pocket, cracking his knuckles.

“Well, I can’t give you the full infusion to let you open Amity’s encrypted data, but I can write you a little something that should expose Technus’s code even without it,” he offered, and Tim brightened up.

“How long?” He asked eagerly, wondering if Tucker would let him watch. It’d be fair if he didn’t, Tuck had been cool about not looking when Tim played on the batcomputer, but…

Tucker smirked, flicking open a new screen on his PDA.

“How long will it take you to get the laptop down here?” He asked smugly.

Tim booked shit to the elevator.

**

Private Chat: DannyP & TooFine

2:15am

‘TooFine: Danny when tf did u have Technus hack the JL’

‘DannyP: ……. 👀 u cannot prove i did that 🚫🚫’

‘TooFine: I’m helping Tim debug the Watchtower’

‘TooFine: double fuck u for not telling me about Batman btw’

‘TooFine: someone sent all the Amity alerts to trash’

‘TooFine: if we keep talking about this I might accidentally send something to the group chat 🤨’

‘DannyP: FUCK FINE DONT TELL SAM 🏳️🏳️🏳️’

‘DannyP: after the pd thing’

‘DannyP: cw called’

‘DannyP: they hadnt been reading the messages anyway i just’

‘DannyP: shitty people track the jl y’know? and i didnt want em knowing about us’

‘DannyP: let em all think its a joke and then no one else comes an tries to use our portal to harness the realms and blow up superman or whatever’

‘TooFine: dude u fucking told me to tell them what actually happened??’

‘TooFine: pretty sure anyone tracking the jl will work that out now’

‘DannyP is typing’

‘DannyP is typing’

‘DannyP is typing’

‘DannyP: ok so maybe i didnt think that through 😔😔😔’

‘TooFine: no shit. I’m fixing the code in case any new alerts come through but it’s not like they’ll bother to call’

‘DannyP: not like they need to, frighty’s got em covered 🗡️🗡️🎃’

‘TooFine: yeah yeah. I’ll set it to ping u too’

‘DannyP: ur the best tuck 🙇🏻‍♂️🙇🏻‍♂️🙇🏻‍♂️’

‘TooFine: better than u deserve’

**

Across the city, Red Hood and Black Bat had stopped for smoothies. Patrol was quiet, and word on the street was that Bluebird was mostly to blame.

Nobody wanted to know why she was back and taking no prisoners, so even the docks were almost deserted.

Then again, with Riddler and Waylon snapped back off the streets, Penguin lying low in fear of Harley, and Batwoman making Two Face’s life a personal hell?

Yeah, no wonder the smaller players were lying low.

Hood had pulled his phone out to check in on the Alley in case they’d be more useful there when he noticed a message from Tucker’s private chat app.

It was from Danny.

Danny had sent him his class schedule. Told Jason to let Danny know when he was free. Like class was the only thing that’d stop Danny from wanting to see him.

Jason was so lost in staring at his phone, utterly swamped in the implications, that he didn’t even notice Black Bat finish her smoothie and swap out her empty cup for his.

Danny wanted to see him again.

He’d have to work out a proper schedule of his own.

**

Bruce was having a Bad Day. An extended bad day, one that was fast approaching 48 hours long.

As if everything with Amity Park wasn’t already bad enough, both in the past and the present, now Constantine believed there was something wrong with Jason.

That his son wasn’t fully human anymore.

Now, Bruce’s best friends weren’t even a quarter human between them, and no matter what everyone seemed to think he was perfectly happy with meta humans.

So long as they kept themselves safe.

Preferably where they wouldn’t be mind controlled, kidnapped, or held hostage every few days. Frankly being a meta was probably stressful enough even in a normal city.

But he’d keep Gotham’s metas as safe as he could, just like Duke.

But Jason… Jason had been born human. Had lived as a human, died as a human, and Constantine seemed so sure he’d come back as something else.

“Revenant” the man had called him. An animated corpse that haunted the living, powered by rage.

Bruce might even have believed it two years ago, when Jason first returned. Jason had been so angry, intent on destroying Tim when the other was just a child.

When Jason was little more than a child.

But… that wasn’t all he was. He was himself, truly Jason Todd in ways Bruce hadn’t wanted to believe. He’d fought his rage and won every day.

Most days.

And being around Amity Park, being around Daniel James Fenton, might be enough to push him back over. To drag Jason closer back to death.

Halfas could act as psychopomps, bringing lost souls safely to the other side.

Jason had only just become himself again. They had only just begun healing the rift between them.

Bruce couldn’t lose him again.

They had to keep him away from Amity Park. It was as simple as that really; something in Jason’s resurrection had gone wrong and they all knew it.

Even Jason himself wouldn’t argue with that. Something about his death clung to him, poisoned him with that violent green rage.

His children’s reports told him that Danny was claiming to help with the pit rage because he had also been exposed. But what if he was just helping the pit?

Even if he didn’t mean to, exposing Jason to that much power that closely tied to death couldn’t be good. Constantine hadn’t exactly said as much, but Bruce could read between the lines.

Death magic was contagious between those who’d been infected. Who’d died and come back.

That wasn’t fun to know. Not with how many of his children, his friends had all died before.

Even he himself had. He’d have to investigate Amity Park personally. Take the risk himself, to keep it from the others.

Tim and Duke could help, but they were both so busy with their own lives. He would have to wait and see.

His meeting with Clark and Diana hadn’t gone well either. They’d both been gratifyingly concerned with what he’d learned and had recognized the threat.

Clark had promised to keep an ear out for Jason, to listen in on his heartbeat and make sure he was okay. Bruce would have been grateful, if Clark hadn’t also told him that Jason’s heart was noticeably slow.

Easy to pick out, even if they hadn’t spent much time together.

Just how close was his boy to dying again?

Diana had advised caution. Wanted to speak to Danny herself, see the hero who had shouldered the burden of this small town. See if he had turned under the pressure.

Pressure that should never have been his. Pressure they should all have shared, protecting the child and the town together.

It would be his fault if Danny had broken. Had given in to whatever in the Infinite Realms had stolen a whole town away.

Bruce knew that with a leaden certainty, felt the weight of it settle in his chest. The same way he knew he was responsible for most of his rogues.

He could see the wisdom in letting Diana talk to the man first. She was wiser than most of the League, and a good judge of character. Even without her lasso, it was hard to lie to her.

But if what Constantine said was true, he didn’t want to tip their hand. Zatanna and Shazam had both agreed to attend tomorrow and give their own opinions.

They could afford to wait one night. Perhaps two, if Danny couldn’t be found tomorrow.

Just about the only thing Bruce wasn’t worried about was Danny running. If he had ill intentions, he wasn’t the sort to give in and disappear so easily.

He’d threatened Bruce to stay out of things between him and Jason. And certainly wasn’t afraid of a fight.

Bruce was also quite sure that he and Diana could take the boy if it came to it, even with the abilities Constantine ascribed to the realms. He would find a way.

But not tonight, he reminded himself firmly as he strode into the zeta tube. Tonight he would go home, update his children, and get some sleep.

Maybe waiting a day or two to speak to Danny directly would help. This concussion had passed frustrating and was beginning to affect his decision making.

Shaking his head to clear it, Bruce hit the button to send him home. Soon he could rest. At least for a little while.

**

A gentle buzzer went off in the cave and Tim yelped like he’d been stung, clutching at Tucker’s arm in an entirely unmanly way.

“SHIT he’s back hide the candy canes!”

Tucker stared at him wide eyed, but to his credit the other man didn’t hesitate to sweep the pile of different flavoured canes off the desk and into the front of his shirt.

“Where?!” He asked, and Tim hesitated for half an instant.

The zeta tube was down by the cars. Bruce would be up in less than a minute. Spinning Tucker by the shoulders, he shoved him towards the infirmary.

“Get in there! Don’t come out til I say!” He hissed, already hearing the zeta tube’s door whoosh open.

Tucker obediently scurried away, and thank fuck he was quick on the uptake enough to drop his voice below a whisper.

“What?! Tim, what?! Am I not supposed to fucking be here?!” He hissed, and Tim pulled the infirmary door almost shut before darting back to the table.

He’d cleared it with Bruce, had texted about giving their guests a tour, but since it turned out that Tucker hadn’t already been in the know… well, he wanted to prime Bruce with the good news first.

The tube only pinged once though, so Constantine hadn’t come back with him. That was probably good. Bruce would be less cranky.

Tim wasn’t exactly back in his seat by the time Bruce reached the batcomputer, but he was close enough to watch him note the second chair.

Tim didn’t let him ask.

“I have a first hand witness account of what happened in Amity Park.” That was the important thing, right? That they had answers.

Bruce stared at him for a long moment, eyes narrowed and the whiteouts narrowing with them. Tim stared him down, refusing to look away.

He’d fucked up just like, a tiny bit. But he’d gotten results. Better results than anyone else. So was it really a fuck up?

He watched Bruce’s eyes widen as he realized, and was a little surprised when the man’s shoulders slumped. He dropped gracelessly into the swivel chair, elbows propped on the table and his head cradled in his hands.

Tim was growing a little alarmed now, hurrying forward to Bruce’s side. Was he injured? Had something happened?

His hand was just reaching out to touch when Bruce sighed and sat back up.

“Tim. Who did you bring to tour the cave?” He asked in a tired, heavy voice, and Tim’s brows furrowed.

What? He’d said, hadn’t he?

“Tucker Foley?” He said cautiously, wondering if he should call Alfred. Maybe switch out Bruce and Tucker and get the big guy into the infirmary.

Bruce was very still. Tim forged ahead, hoping to get to the good news.

“He was a vigilante back in Amity Park, part of the support team. I have his statement going back to the beginning of the ghost attacks, and he’s already answered most of our questions.”

Leaning past Bruce, he hit a couple of keys and brought up the sound file of Tucker’s interview.

Bruce was still a little slow as he turned to look, but it seemed to hearten him. Which was when Tim realized.

“Wait. Who did you think I was bringing?” He asked, brows furrowing in confusion.

Bruce shot him a sidelong frown, pulling off his cowl.

“Not a stranger,” he growled, though his heart clearly wasn’t in it. He just sounded tired.

Tim carefully patted him on the shoulder, still thoroughly confused.

“What? But I said…” he paused, pulling out his phone and staring at the texts.

Nope. No he didn’t.

Oops.

Groaning, Tim let his head drop.

“Ah fuck, and I thought we were doing so well!” He sighed heavily and Bruce made a grunt that might have been a laugh. “Alfred’s going to be unbearable.”

That shut Bruce right up, as it should, and then Bruce sighed again. They were moving past it then. Probably for the best, since Alfred would lecture them both on the importance of communication later.

At least it wasn’t only Tim’s fault. The only person who wasn’t a stranger or a bat had been Harley, and he wasn’t actually sure if Harley had cave privileges.

Well. She did now. Since that was what Bruce must have thought he was asking.

Then Bruce straightened, eyes determined and steely.

“I have new information from Constantine. The risks of the Infinite Realms.” It definitely heartened him to talk about, skipping straight to the debrief part of the day.

Maybe they could just skip right over the Tim-fucked-up-and-brought-a-stranger-to-the-cave.

“I need you all to keep away from the Amity Parkers until I know more.”

Ah.

No then. Nope, not skipping over it, because Tucker was actively still fucking in the cave. It was for the best that they’d hidden him then.

Tim shook his head firmly, hoping that if he seemed certain that would help.

“That’s not gonna work, Bruce. I couldn’t have fixed our Watchtower problem without Tucker, and we can’t look at any of the Amity Park data without an Amity Park device.” It was the theory they’d been running with, but they’d had it confirmed now.

Never mind that Tucker had already downloaded most of what was publicly available for them. Bruce would always want a primary source anyway.

Tim pretended it didn’t affect him when Bruce’s head jerked, eyes narrowed as he scowled at Tim.

“You let him into the code for the Watchtower?!” He exclaimed in a hiss. Which was interesting, since Tim had kinda figured the bat cave thing would be more personal.

Then again, the Watchtower could compromise more than that.

“Bruce, read the report on Tucker. We literally couldn’t stop him if he wanted to hack in, because his tech runs on levels that slide right past ours. Tech he’s already sharing,” he added sharply, reaching behind him without looking to hook his laptop forwards.

Bruce, mouth already open to argue, quieted at once. Yeah, new toys always helped. Tim nodded to the batcomputer.

“The update’s ready to go live, but I waited because you need to see this. Open the third window,” he nodded over, pulling up the corresponding section of code on the laptop.

Bruce’s expression pinched but he did as requested, clearly not willing to put another step between himself and the answer. A quick glance up to confirm, and Tim nodded to himself.

Fuck, he needed a laser pointer.

“So it all looks good up there, right?” He pushed and Bruce frowned, but nodded, eyes scanning quickly across the screen.

“Is this your update?” He asked but Tim was already shaking his head, pushing his own laptop towards the man.

Bruce’s eyes widened at the glitching sections of code. Tim nodded, satisfied he’d gotten Tim’s point.

“Tucker Foley wrote me a program so that I could access this ghost code. In half an hour. From scratch,” he added for emphasis, and yeah, he could already hear the lecture about “compromised tech”.

He tried to shut that one off too, pointing up at the screens.

“That? That’s apparently the work of a ghost. One called Technus, who likes to possess technology, and now Tucker and I are going through every line of the Watchtower’s code looking for changes.”

Bruce’s lips thinned to a tense line and he gave a short, harsh nod. He very obviously didn’t like it, but the presence of a bigger threat did wonders for calming him down.

Tim patted his laptop.

“We’re waiting on you to upgrade the batcomputer, but we’re gonna need to check every program on that too. Everything, Bruce. These ghosts could have been rewriting everything. And we’d never know if I hadn’t asked Tuck to help me with the Watchtower.”

Honestly, Tim was just hoping none of their rogues had made any ghostly connections. The implications made his head spin, but he stubbornly kept himself on track.

They needed Tucker’s help. Never mind that the ghosts themselves were reportedly allergic to subtlety and would always go big over going home; that was a tendency, not a guarantee.

Hell, if Tim had a say, he’d get Tucker’s upgrades for the ghost code, improved firewalls, and Danny’s ectoplasm into all his own gear by tomorrow.

He wasn’t going to, Bruce’s paranoia being what it was, but he was already uploading Tucker’s program to his suit’s wrist computer. It wasn’t like there’d be any hidden malware.

Tim had watched over his shoulder as Tucker wrote it, direct on the PDA. And watching him work had been… it was just…

He so rarely got to talk to anyone that was actually on his level. Rarer still that they weren’t a direct member of the family.

And Tucker, for all he currently had a tech advantage? He’d invented that advantage himself. All on his own, he was incredible. Maybe even better with some aspects of software than Tim himself.

The things they could do together… even the internship was pretty much a formality at this point. Just get Tuck through college and see if he’d accept a job at WE.

Hell, if he wanted to found his own company Tim would invest. That kind of brilliance deserved everything it needed to grow.

He had to wrench himself back to the present moment, the “introduce new genius to Batman” step still looming large, but honestly? Tim wasn’t worried. Bruce would see the potential.

Here and now Bruce’s gaze had gone distant, and Tim could easily have kept going, but he stayed quiet. Let the man absorb new information, stop and think.

And if he still wanted to make dumbass decisions, well, Tim could argue with him literally all night. They’d all picked up Bruce’s stubbornness too.

**

It was hard to focus on the screen through the throbbing of his head, the lights too bright even at their lowest setting. He’d checked.

Luckily, it was an issue he’d been dealing with for years, and Bruce pushed it aside with the resigned acceptance of long practice.

He’d pay for it later. That night of sleep was probably going to be a day of sleep at this rate, but he’d get at least six hours. More if Alfred caught him.

For now… Tim felt very strongly about this. Had good reason to, if he was even half right about the scope of the problem, or Tucker’s uses as a solution.

After hearing from one member of the Justice League Dark, Bruce was desperately hoping Tim was right. They sorely needed an ally, one they could trust to guide them through these dangerous waters.

Of course, Fenton and Foley were close. That may skew his judgement, but it could be accounted for. Wasn’t worth more than an ally whose skillset Bruce understood, and could trust.

Tucker Foley was a tech expert, which put him above any occult master in Bruce’s book. Magic had no rules, not that could be relied on, and Bruce wouldn’t touch it if he didn’t have to.

And Tucker’s tech would work with his own.

There’d be a review period of course. He’d have to meet Tucker himself, speak to him a little, get a sense of the man. See how far his opinions would be based in fact, not feeling.

Tim’s vouch was a good first step. As little as Bruce liked that Tim had brought an outsider down to the lab. And then let him use Tim’s computer.

And honestly, it certainly wasn’t Tim’s fault that Bruce hadn’t asked. He’d been lax, not checked properly, and it was that damned concussion slowing him down.

He needed sleep. His thinking was dangerously clouded. But one thing was always true: he trusted Tim’s judgement. Probably more than he trusted his own at the moment.

They could review the situation in the morning, come up with some suitable punishment and protocol to introduce new vigilantes to the cave (which they’d never needed, because other heroes usually came through the League and were already vetted).

A thought struck and Bruce almost smiled. It would be a fitting solution on three separate sides. Maybe the punishment would be easy after all.

“Alright. I’ll need to speak to Foley first. And you will be writing out fresh protocols to address when a new hero but not a league member can be introduced to the cave,” he added, and Tim groaned loudly.

Bruce ignored him. That was just the start of his troubles.

“You will also be responsible for running John Constantine through the full reporting system, and updating the training materials so this doesn’t happen again.” It was a weight off his shoulders, really.

And a fitting punishment, because Tim would definitely think twice before pulling this stunt again. The man himself threw both his hands into the air.

“What?! Bruce! You said you fixed it!” He whined, and Bruce resisted the urge to smile.

“And I fixed Amity Park. But I highly doubt this was his only error, so the two of you will have to review every case he’s reported on before you go back on patrol.”

It was probably several hundred since they’d had the new system alone. Tim groaned like Bruce was sucking the soul from his body.

Bruce levelled him with a stern look.

“I take the secrecy of the cave seriously, Red Robin. This will not happen again.”

“Because I’m gonna die of old age sitting at a desk with Constantine,” Tim grumbled, folding his arms and scowling.

It wasn’t even something he could write a program to fudge for him; every case would need Constantine’s personal input to be sure it was filed correctly.

Bruce was quite pleased with this solution. But he made sure to hide the smile from Tim, who wouldn’t appreciate it right now.

“Tucker Foley may end up working out for us all, but that’s no guarantee a future mistake won’t be fatal. And Tim…” even if it was a formality at this point, he had to ask. “Do you trust him?”

The answer was obvious, this was Tim’s personal laptop, this was the Bat Cave, and as expected Tim nodded immediately, the sulk from his punishment vanishing.

“He’s a good guy. He’s even made a clean set of Amity Park data you can look through until Danny fixes the batcomputer.”

Ah. And there was the problem. With a solution wrapped around it though, so Bruce focused on the cleaned set of data.

If Tucker was anything like Tim, it’d be extensive enough to keep him busy until the Justice League came to a decision.

Until he could speak to Danny. Speak to Jason.

He was so tired.

Bruce nodded, leaning back in his seat.

“Alright. Tucker Foley is exempted, but I need you and the others to stay away from the rest, and particularly Danny Fenton until the League has made a decision.”

It was just a little heart breaking watching Tim’s face fall from hope and happiness straight back into worry.

“But Bruce… he’s helping Jason with the pit, he might need to see him,” he argued, arms folding again.

Bruce shook his head. That was exactly what he was afraid of.

“I know… and I know how Jason feels about following orders. I’ll tell him myself, tonight.” Luckily he was still in the batsuit, if not the cowl.

Raising his wrist to his face, Bruce activated his secondary comm on the group channel. He’d turned both off when his children headed out, fully aware Oracle would override it if they needed him.

He didn’t need to be distracted by the noises of a normal night.

“Everyone, return to the cave before heading in please. There have been developments I need to update you on.” Nothing to worry them, but hopefully interesting enough that Jason would still drop in.

No talk of protocols or anything. No, that was Tim’s future.

Tim, who was looking at him oddly.

“Who told you Jason went out tonight?” He asked, and Bruce frowned. Looked up at the batcomputer, and realized that the tracker screen wasn’t open.

That could be a problem.

“Didn’t he?” He asked, really not looking forward to asking Dick to ask Jason to drop by tonight. If Jason was actually home, actually sleeping…

But Tim shook his head, that odd expression still on his face.

“He never said he would, but he called in after taking Danny home. He’s out with Black Bat,” Tim added, and Bruce frowned.

Why even bring it up if Jason was out? What did it matter?

Tim, clearly seeing and understanding his confusion, groaned and tugged at his hair.

“Bruce. Please, just… listen to me. Danny isn’t the threat here. He’s been nothing but helpful. He’s the one who picked up the ball when the League dropped it, who dealt with all the ghosts we can’t. He saved that town-”

“We don’t know that, Tim,” Bruce cut him off, shaking his head sharply. “We can’t take that risk.”

He could see Tim getting frustrated, temper flaring, and in an odd way, it made him feel better. Calm. In control.

“Bruce, you stubborn… so what? We just tell Jason to keep away from the only person who makes him feel better?” Tim asked sarcastically, and Bruce could see exactly how he’d missed the point.

This was what he’d have to watch for with Tucker Foley. But the technical advantages would be worth it.

“We don’t know that he’s making the pits better,” Bruce said darkly, and fuck it felt good to even voice the thought aloud.

Made it feel real, less like paranoia.

Tim gaped at him, but didn’t argue.

Bruce raised a hand, counting the points off on his fingers.

One.

“None of us heard anything about him a week ago. Not even a few days. Fenton has been here over a year and only just ran into Jason?” It wasn’t possible.

It didn’t make sense. Gotham was a large city, sure, but for two people apparently so closely linked? No.

A second finger rose.

“Danny himself claims that he is helping with the pits.”

“Jason agrees,” Tim cut in, clearly looking to break his train of thought. Bruce silenced him with a stern glare.

“Danny claims he is helping with the pits. Jason claims to have noticed the same thing, but we already know the pits affect his mind. He may not understand what’s being done to him.”

That? That made perfect sense. The pits had driven Jason into those uncontrollable rages, made him do things he’d never have wanted to.

Who was to say they couldn’t have a more subtle influence? More dangerous? More like Ra’s himself.

Even Tim couldn’t argue with that, and Bruce nodded his satisfaction at the boy’s silence, raising a third finger. This… he wasn’t looking forward to this one.

But its weight had been sitting in his chest since the possibility came up, and he didn’t want to hide anything from his boys. They deserved to know the risks.

No matter how much he’d rather protect them from it.

“The little f… Constantine believes there is a chance that even being close to Danny may have dangerous side effects for Jason, purely accidentally.”

Tim’s eyebrow rose at the aborted description, and Bruce was glad he’d clamped down on it. Couldn’t quite meet the boy’s eye as he continued to explain.

“Danny’s connection to… his death,” the words were hard to even speak, another child lost, “is what gives him his power. It’s strong, and may have radiating effects Danny doesn’t even know about.”

Because that was kind of the worst part. There was a chance that Danny truly meant everything he’d said in earnest. That he was Jason’s friend, wanted to protect him.

Wanted to help Jason come back to himself and be free of the pit rage. That they did truly care for each other, and wanted to make each other better.

And none of those good intentions would matter if Danny’s mere presence risked Jason’s soul.

He could see Tim realizing it too, eyes widening and the aggression slumping from his shoulders. But he’d decided to be honest.

Clear, open communication. They could try.

“The way Jason came back… we still don’t know how it happened, or why. But anything half living and half dead can have side effects on the world around them, especially for those who have already died.”

Danny might be here to take Jason away. Back to the dead.

He’d meant to say the words, to lay it bare, but in the end he choked on them. Couldn’t even face the thought.

Tomorrow. After he slept. If they still needed convincing, he’d try again tomorrow. Which did neatly bring them to point number four.

Steeling himself, Bruce shifted his gaze back to Tim, raising his pinky finger.

“And if you are right, if Danny really is helping… it’ll only be for a few days. I meet with the League tomorrow. Zatanna and Shazam will both be there to give their opinions.”

Suddenly Bruce just felt tired. Tired of arguing, trying to make people see things his way. All he wanted was a couple of days. Just to be sure. Just to be safe.

Tim raised an eyebrow again, shifting slowly to lean against the other chair.

“Then why will it be a few days? Why not tomorrow?” He asked cautiously and Bruce chuckled.

Of course Tim knew him well enough to know there would be something else.

“I’d like to talk to him myself first. Perhaps have them meet him directly. Just to be sure what his intentions are in the city.”

“And with Jason,” Tim put in flatly. Bruce just nodded. The boy was right.

“With the city and with Jason,” he agreed, looking back up at the large screens of the batcomputer.

Pulled up the location tracker for his bats and birds, watching their little trails of light run across the city. He wouldn’t let any of those lights wink out.

Tim sighed and shook his head, coming to lean against the back of Bruce’s chair instead. Not quite tall enough to rest his chin on the top of Bruce’s head, and not likely to grow much more at nineteen.

“I still think it’s a bad idea,” he said bluntly, eyes tracking the Red Hood dot in particular. “You’ll only push Jason further away by trying to control who he sees.”

Bruce shook his head, leaning back just a little more into the presence of his son.

“I don’t care if Jason hates me for the rest of his life, so long as it���s a long and healthy one,” he said softly, and Tim snorted.

Pushed away from the chair, and for a moment the distance ached.

“Yeah, well. When it blows up in your face, I told you so. Did you wanna see Tucker tonight or tomorrow?” He asked, and Bruce’s head snapped suddenly around, scanning the cave.

“He’s still here?”

**

Shaking his head, Tim made his way across the cave to the infirmary, pulling out his phone where Bruce couldn’t see it. He shot off a quick text, not looking down.

‘J. Don’t come back to cave. B has mega bitch face just let him cool down’

**

Across the city, the message flashed in the corner of Red Hood’s helmet visor. Groaning to himself, Hood kicked a goon’s gun into Gotham bay and waved to Black Bat.

“You good? I gotta send a text.” He called, deeply offending the eight goons still standing, armed with knives and fucking pipes, and tussling with Black Bat.

Which only got worse when she shot him a quick thumbs up, sat on a particularly tall goon’s shoulders before throwing herself back so far the guy toppled, twisting them in the air so she still somehow wound up on top.

Hood nodded, pulling out his phone one handed.

“Hey! You can’t just text! We’re not done!” A goon protested, rushing in at Red Hood.

Who pulled his gun and shot him in both kneecaps, sending him sprawling to the slick planks of the dock.

This was why he always took out their shooters first. Batman could preach hand to hand all he liked, it was way safer when the bad guys had holes in their hands and no guns.

“Anyone else?” Hood asked rhetorically, pointing the last gun on the dock at the remaining goons in turn. In unison, all six focused their attention solely on Black Bat.

Not because they thought they’d win, but well. She didn’t have a fucking gun.

“Yeah, thought so,” Hood grumbled, sending a quick message back to Tim.

Paused to take a picture when Black Bat actually got three heads at once into a leg lock, because that had to be a record.

‘Is it to do with your big fuck up?’ Cuz honestly, what else could B be pissed about?

The answer came back though, fast and weird.

‘As hard as I also find it to believe this, no. Magician’s got him all twisted around about Phantom. Wants to forbid us all from seeing him.’

The phone creaked in Jason’s grip as he read the last words, a low rumbling growl spilling from low in his chest.

The remaining standing goons whipped around and exchanged startled looks.

That. That definitely wasn’t fucking good. No way.

Black Bat took another to floor as they paused, and the last three fled. Didn’t quite make it to the door.

Jason didn’t notice until her hand landed gently on his shoulder, concern radiating off her. His head whipped round, and he was suddenly glad the full helmet covered his face.

Couldn’t see the way he fucking snarled at her.

Black Bat didn’t move, her head cocked to one side as she regarded him.

“Eyes. Glowing,” she told him carefully, reaching up to touch the side of his helmet.

Jason jerked back in shock, but he could already feel the green rushing away. Receding until his vision purely his own again.

He hadn’t even noticed the green haze.

Black Bat inspected him again, then nodded, going on tiptoes to pat him on top of the head.

“What’s wrong?”

Red Hood sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to recenter. He’d never felt the rage come on that fast, from nothing to all consuming before he even felt it.

Even thinking of the messages made angry green tides again.

We will not be kept from the King!

And it was talking to him again. Lovely. Why couldn’t that part have been his imagination?

Shaking his head, he focused on Black Bat’s question instead.

“Just B bein’ an asshole again. I’m gonna pass on the cave tonight, tell him I went to bed.” It was about as much as he thought he could talk about it without screaming.

Almost forgot that Black Bat could read him too, her aura still soothing and open to him as she nodded. Rested a hand gently on his shoulder.

“Go now. Rest,” she told him firmly, turning back to the downed and groaning goons.

Red Hood hesitated, looking around the dock. It was getting early, nearly time to turn in anyway, and they were done here. Just a routine drug shipment.

The last lot too dense to be cowed by the mood on the streets, or counting on the hour to mean the bats went to bed. Cuz that went so well for them.

He nodded and moved to help her, flipping the biggest goon over and zip tying his wrists to his elbows, and then his ankles.

“After I help you wrap your presents,” he agreed, heard Black Bat let out a soft huff of laughter.

One of the still conscious goons shot him a glare.

“Y’could at least pretend to take us seriously,” she grumbled, then yelped as one of her fellow goons kicked her in the shins.

Clear message: do not push the crazy bat.

Red Hood snorted.

“I’ll take you seriously when you’ve fuckin’ earned it,” he told her, going for the next biggest body.

Black Bat could take every one of them out of the fight, but bagging and tagging a dead weight was much less fun for her. He could handle that part before turning in.

He had a big day tomorrow.

**

Private Chat: DannyP & TooFine

4:30am

‘TooFine: dude Tim just shoved me in a closet I don’t think Batman knows I’m here?????’

‘TooFine: dude’

‘TooFine: dude wake tf up I might need emergency evac 🚨🚨’

4:35am

‘TooFine: that fucking Constantine guy’s put a bug in Batman’s ass’

‘TooFine: told u we shoulda hunted him down 😤’

‘TooFine: and after all I did to help!! Ungrateful bat!!’

4:46am

‘TooFine: okay Batman fucking hates u specifically ur screwed 😳’

‘TooFine: I’m good tho 😇’

‘TooFine: I think he likes me now 😏’

‘TooFine: he wants all my sweet tech upgrades’

‘TooFine: they’re gonna let me play on the batcomputer!!! 😳😳😳’

5am

‘TooFine: u are missing vital updates bitch’

‘TooFine: he’s gonna fucking ground Jason from hanging out with u’

‘TooFine: AH SHIT HE KNOWS IM HERE ABORT ABORT ABORT’

8am

‘TooFine: u may have been right going to bed early man this shit sucks’

‘TooFine: didn’t even get to see what happened’

‘TooFine: they sent me to bed like a naughty child! 😤’

‘TooFine: I’m changing all his ring tones to Funky Town’

10:59am

‘DannyP: okay miette’

11:02am

‘HalfBitch: OKAY IM SORRY TUCKER AT LEAST TAKE THE MAGIC MIKE THEME OFF’

——————————

Next Chapter:

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778

[wordsbymae]

"They ain't lap dogs you know, they're working dogs and you spoil em too much" but mousey is for sure his lap dog lmao

so now farmer finally has them. what now? would he propose, not like in the the other AU when he is older? or would he just start going around the town telling people about his little wife/husband/spouse? because, what is little mouse supposed to do? they just can't say no to the only person that is so nice to them, the only person that takes care and protect them (or so the farmer say). mousey must return the favour.

I literally was going to answer about an hour ago but got completely distracted by making a mood board for the farmer's two dogs cause you reminded me of them. whoops!

Anyway!

Oh for sure!!!! He doesn't need his boys to be his lap dogs when he has the prettiest thing all to himself.

There is no way on God's green earth he will ever actually propose. Don't get me wrong, he wants nothing more than to marry his little mouse and put a ring on it. But actually courting them? Actually having to be vulnerable and open himself up to rejection?

Never ever going to happen.

I can see this going really two ways, there is a third secret option but that's for later.

The first way is he just starts acting like you're married. Tells everyone in town he can't stay too long or the missus/ his partner will be getting worried. Gushes about your cooking to anyone who will listen makes it clear that he's got a sweet little thing waiting all for him back at home. Carries a Polaroid picture of you hugging Pancho, with a big wide smile and while Lefty sooks in the corner. He'll show it off whenever he has the chance, talking about you and your boys.

Those who watched you two that day at the farmers' market just nod their heads with smiles and wish him all the best. He probably starts even wearing a plain gold band. Proud to show it off.

Meanwhile, the reader is confused when the very rare times they leave the farm everyone wishes them congratulations (and asks if any kids will be coming).

Mouse brings it up to the farmer and tells them they don't want people getting the wrong idea. They're just friends. The farmer just laughs at this.

"It's a bit too late to stop them from getting the wrong idea Mouse"

He practically gaslights them, I mean what's the big problem? Who cares if a few town folks think they got hitched. They are living together. You do act like a homemaker. You can't blame anyone for thinking you two had been married for years. The only thing stopping you two from actually being seen as truly married is the lack of a ring on your finger and you not being in his bed.

And would it really be so bad? Being his?

He's been so good to you. So kind. Like how a real husband would act. He looks after you and protects you. Buys you the prettiest things and asks nothing in return.

But now he is. Now he's asking for payment. Be his little homemaker in law as well and he'll take care of you like he always has.

You can't say no. You quit your job when your cottage burned down, just as the farmer told you to.

"I'll look after you mouse. Until you get back on your feet of course"

No one is hiring in town and even if you did get a job you wouldn't be able to buy or even rent a house. There was nowhere to go. There was taking the chance on living on the streets but wouldn't it just be easier to just say yes?

He was kinda right. You've already practically been his stay-at-home sweetheart, how bad would it be if you put a ring on your finger. This is everything you've ever wanted. To be his pretty spouse, him all to yourself.

So why did it feel so wrong?

The second is mostly fem reader but he would not be against baby trapping. If for even one moment he thought you would say no to being his wife, he would resort to baby trapping. I always view this fic set in the 60s or 70s (maybe even 50s) so there would be no way you could leave him with a babe in your belly. You would have no husband and no support. So of course you don't really have a choice. You're already on thin ice living with a single man, but that was something you could cover by explaining why. But a baby? That can't be hidden, can't be explained away. So as soon as you knew, the farmer would have a priest ready and waiting.

Tag list: @floraroselaughter