#How Does It Feel

[ficcerspam]

I see a lot of comments on AO3 about Danny instantly recognizing Jason by his core, or Jason recognizing Danny by the chill of it. I'm here to ruin your dreams:

Phantom is extra sensitive to cores and magic, but Danny is not. I sort of vaguely imply it in chapter 2, where Danny is in his head about how his body fundamentally changes between ghost form and human form. He is cognizant of it, but unless they actually touch skin to skin or Jason uses magic around him, Danny won't recognize Jason's "core". Jason will simply be someone who runs abnormally warm to him.

Jason isn't sensitive to magic at all, not consciously anyway, and he doesn't have the tools to really recognize it unless he's really trying. He chalks it up to gut feelings and the like. For someone who constantly said Robin is magic, and ironically was the magic Robin, he sure is very dull against it lol

Anyway, hope that answers your guys' questions! Rest assured, when they find out each other's identities, you will know.

Dear Darcy...

Another AU borne from the HHD server--Touch-starved DoM with identity shenanigans. Follow here on AO3!

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It isn't until well into their acquaintanceship that Jason notices something odd about Phantom.

That's not exactly true—Jason noticed it on their third mission together in a passing thought, but decided to not care about it on account of all the bullets and daggers being thrown at him and his team at the time.

Phantom is an ally, of sorts. A consult, perhaps, Jason doesn't really know.

It's hard to really say when they still don't really know what he does.

Though, again, that's not exactly true—Jason supposes it's more accurate to say they still don't really know what he can't do.

They go to him when the supernatural is involved, introduced to them via Zatanna when Jason expressed an adamant dislike of needing to ask JL Dark for anything (needing to ask Bruce for anything).

The ghost, a big name in the so called Realms world, is friendly and happy to help most of the time. He's a delight to work with in Jason's book, seeming to use his so-called ghost sense to read the room empathically—filling in the spaces when the quiet is too dark for the team, trailing behind silent as a shadow when even breathing is too loud, staying mostly out of the way and chiming in when necessary.

It helps that if shit hits the fan, Phantom can do something about it—it helps that that's the only time Phantom will ever butt in.

The Outlaws, Jason, is still to raw to handle playing nice, but Phantom makes it easy.

Phantom makes it effortless.

It makes Jason's gut roil in ways he's not sure how to deal with, beyond shooting it.

Either way, Jason, Red Hood, isn't supposed to be here in the Realms.

It's not that he's not allowed, per say, it's just that he wasn't exactly invited to this particular corner and Jason's a Bat, sure, but even he knows the supernatural have rules.

Jason was trying to summon Phantom for a quick mission, an in and out kind of deal that may or may not have had a cult involved in it that made Jason a little leery.

Except the summons was denied, which can happen sometimes when Phantom is busy.

Only instead of the circle simply going dark, like usual, Jason got pulled in instead.

So now he's here, in what he assumes to be Phantom's lair.

It's nice, the lair, if a little dark and mood-lighted. It has a dome-like structure, with stars and constellations all over like a planetarium. There's even one of those big ass telescopes peeking out the roof like one, though it seems to only point outwards towards the green of the Realms. Symbolic, or decorative in nature.

There's bookshelves of astrology and astronomy and all sorts of science and space related things littered throughout the shelves. Every now and then the stacks of books are interrupted with some kind of LEGO space creation, or a miniature of a rocket, or some of those weird weapons Phantom sometimes pulls out.

There's a work area, neat and messy at the same time, with a work table and a large toolbox drawer set. Metal detritus is piled neatly next to it, a project or two laid out under a heavy dark blue cloth on the table to keep it from getting dusty or be moved around if Jason has to guess.

In another area, there's living room-like space with a big monitor and beanbags and soft chairs surrounding it, typical of a college dorm room-esque gaming set up. Just beside it there's a large computer that hums softly, a picture of a female werewolf acting as a screensaver.

In yet another, there's a gathering of plants of many varieties growing this way and that. Jason spots a couple he recognizes from his run-ins with Pamela, and spots a copious amount of plants he doesn't recognize of this Earth. Ghost plants, he's assuming, from the glow of them.

There is even, curiously, one of those "at-home" basketball games that can fold away reminiscent of the ones you can see at the arcade with a couple miniature basketballs. Beside it, some kind of sleek mechanical looking surfboard rests against the wall in metallic reds and black with another toolbox set hidden just behind where it leans.

The kitchen area has a fridge that's absolutely covered in magnets from all over the world, a picture in crayon that is disconcertingly good pinned up here or there signed by someone named Ellie.

And then, of course, the main draw at the center of the room: a bed of sorts, stacked with pillows and blankets and assorted plushies of varying sizes.

Buried within is Phantom himself, huddled up in a nest of pillows and breathing heavy, angelic face flushed green the way a human would in fever. Jason, for the first time since meeting the halfa, truly wonders extensively how much the he isn't telling them.

Which brings Jason back to the odd thing.

Well, the odd thing that Jason is focusing on right now:

Phantom, contrary to his self-proclaimed ghostly nature, is very solid.

More than that, he's very, utterly, alive.

It's all the more apparent when Jason takes off one of his gloves to feel Phantom's forehead, the way Bruce would when Jason was Robin.

The way Jason wishes he could with his family.

Jason realizes, with the kind of starkness that comes from a photo flipbook of memories cascading through him, that he's never touched Phantom before. Not skin to skin or outside of a spar, and never like this.

He realizes, as the pocket book extends to not just him but his team-mates as well, that Phantom's never touched anyone before.

Always hovering just 6 feet away, like quarantine.

Like the depth of a grave.

Phantom is not quite hot to the touch, as Jason expects he would be. He had suspected a fever, of a sort. But he supposes it makes sense that a ghost would run cold, considering.

In the first place, Jason's not sure what possessed him to touch the ghost—he doesn't even have a baseline temperature to compare to so there's no real point.

He's not sure what possessed him to think this was okay, touching an ally like this without consent.

Not when his touch has never been welcomed, especially not when he's Red Hood.

He's just about to pull his hand away, careful not to wake the ghost, when Phantom starts to purr.

It rattles through him, like it's not used to being let out, as Phantom nuzzles at the tips of Jason's fingers.

As if Jason's touch was wanted, as if it comforts the ghost, as if Phantom wants nothing more.

As if this very hand didn't burn buildings to the ground, didn't shoot men into the fathoms, didn't carry bloody duffle bags, didn't fucking hurt hurt hurt.

Jason withdraws his hand carefully, gliding as gently as he can manage, breathing slow and deep.

He's been trained bloody enough to know pulling back in knee-jerk reaction can give things away.

He does not want Phantom to know he touched him.

Jason puts his glove back on, tight and unforgiving, and steps back.

He flexes his hand once, twice. Shakes it, before forcefully relaxing every muscle, trying to melt away the cold traces of Phantom's skin on his.

He clears his throat once, twice a little harsher, until Phantom mewls and blinks glowing green eyes up at him. His gaze is hazy with fever, soft like feathers, child-like in confusion.

And here, another odd thing Jason has not noticed until now:

When did Phantom's Lazarus green eyes become comforting?

When did Phantom's watery green eyes become forgiving?

[cupcakeinat0r]

Imagine being horny n just having the ability to whip a piece of paper out, grab a pencil, n skillfully draw Miguel naked, oiled, n completely bricked up with just ur talent n free will????

[hungharrington]

Having sex with Steve for the first time and he insists on introducing himself to your pussy because “first impressions count” and “I have to be a gentleman” and boy, does he make an impression (my brain is 😵‍💫 from all the anons on your blog 🥵)

OFJDJDIDIFUSK NOT THE INTRODUCTION

he doesn’t say it at first, like there’s no warning for the way he parts your thighs and then goes, “oh hello.” and okay, that’s goofy but it’s not like that left field— but then he noses softly at the inside of your knee and says something stupid like, “i have a feeling we’re gonna be seeing a lot of each other,” and starts kissing down your thigh.

you can’t help but laugh because is he talking? to your pussy? and steve’s head pops up and he smiles, his hand soothing down your thigh— “what? first impressions matter!” and you’re like, “what? to my pussy? i’m sorry to disappoint but you won’t hear replies out of it.”

steve tsks, shaking his head, “uh huh, that’s where you’re wrong,” and his hands sneaks down, his thumb pressing down on your clit lightly— just enough to make you gasp. “she tells me plenty about how she’s feeling,” he grins, his thumb beginning to draw soft sweet little circles. “and i have to be gentlemen if i want her to trust me, don’t i?”

“mmhmm,” you hum, a little breathier tham before. you indulge his question. “and how, uh, would you know if she trusts you?”

steve grins and kisses your knee. his thumb stays as is, circling over your clit, as his fingers trail down your core. you feel his fingertips ghost over your entrance, before he presses them closer, coating his fingertips in your slick as you gasp— back arching lightly at the pleasure.

steve kisses your knee again. “trust me, she has a way of letting me know.”

[yume-fanfare]

early ! era shu is such a funny guy. hes such a pretentious cunt. and it's even funnier now that we know how his development went its

[guessimdumb]

The Perishers - How Does It Feel (1968)

Described as "one of the most instantly catchy songs of the era" in the liner notes to Chocolate Soup for Diabetics: 82 UK Psych Classics. One listen had me sold. The Perishers, originally the Seftons, were a pop group from Liverpool, who were later known as Worth, then tried their hand as Tiger, a glam rock group.

[just-a-drawing-bean]

fellas this is the real number

[solarismoons]

If I see ONE more person meeting Milo at LSOH I WILL burst into tears.

[goryamberdoll]

ALEXA!!!! play tied up by dej loaf

[cutestponyyyy]

"I am small and the world is big. But I’m not scared of anything"

- Avril Lavigne, how does it feel

[iwntlvforever]

۶ৎ°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.°summer°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･۶ৎ

[critical-quoter]

We were taught as kids that evil is ugly and crass and beauty is honest and good, but that is a dangerous lie. It's so much more unsettling for your villain to be ungodly good-looking.

How Does It Feel? - Jeneane O'Riley

[conejitomareador]

DUDE

Okay new addition to the list of reasons I am irl bitchless Stan

We are the same height 😎

WOAH hell yeah man 😎😎😎

[tic-tac-on-the-floor]

when do I get gifted an older trans friend who knows everything I’m going through and has the same humor as me. literally at what point does this happen. I see so many people talking about their older trans friends who have a mentor vibe about them… when do I get this

[vlovann]

I literally cannot decide. Halp.