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sunnie-angel · 9 months ago

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Part 9: The Bargain

part 8 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x fem!reader

summary: unsettling news upsets the careful balance of your friendship with jason todd

tags: mention of offscreen violence, angst, misunderstandings, kissing, fingering, p in v sex

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 3.1k

a/n: wrote most of this while i was sick and a little loopy from medication, so if this is tonally a little different from the rest of the series that's why

Time seems to melt together, like the snow that covers the Gotham University campus. Jason looks devastating with wind chapped cheeks and snow dusted curls, red rising high across his cheekbones. Maybe you won’t ever get to tell him how beautiful he looks with snowflakes collecting on his lashes or how your heart had soared when he complimented you on finally getting one of his recipes right. It’s fine, or that’s what you tell yourself. You can have this much of him at least. As much as you wish it would, the strange tension never really dissipates between you, only fading to a low thrum in the background of your mind that your learn to live with. Eventually exams consume your life and you have very little time left to nurse wounds that never seem to heal quite right.

Winter break – when it finally, blessedly arrives – is not exactly the reprieve you had hoped for. Aside from a few random emails from the school warning of increased muggings near campus (which, when supervillains exist, ranks high on your list of problems why exactly?) you could almost forget that one Fall night. Almost. But Danika keeps inviting everyone over to celebrate the end of the last first semester and Lina won’t stop sending you and Jason considering looks every time you so much as breathe in his direction. You can tell she wants to ask but it won’t be Jason she comes looking for and so you don’t give her the opportunity to corner you alone.

On one memorable occasion you had physically dragged Jason in front of you as a human shield, spilling hot chocolate onto your glove and onto the snow covered ground. The hot liquid had melted into the snow immediately, carving out uneven abstract patterns. Jason hadn’t seemed to catch on as to why exactly you were so determined to attach yourself to his side, but had endured your proximity with what you might almost call joy if you didn’t know better. There wasn’t the resistance you expected, though the cavern between you doesn’t fully dissipate. It was...nice to feel his arm tucked under yours, a solid weight against your side. Maybe the little scraps of affection you could stomach weren’t so bad after all. Maybe one day the two of you could return to the time before you destroyed the closeness between you. Now if only you could get Danika to stop trying to set you up with someone, maybe you could find your footing again.

All of your best intentions go to hell only two days before you’re meant to be back for the final semester. There was a temporary skating rink in the public park, courtesy of Mr. Freeze’s latest foiled plot, one that would only last a few days before melting on its own. Like any true Gothamite, Danika had seized the opportunity with both hands and dragged you all out skating with her. It had been fun to watch Rei windmill his arms, red faced and struggling to keep his balance on his rented skates. Lina had been more than happy to offer him a steadying arm and flirtatious grin. Oddly even Will had decided to participate, the gleeful joy infectious. Jason, of course, had been a natural, gliding across the icy surface and dodging other people with an ease you envied. It had been a lovely afternoon, meant to end with laughter and chafed noses, maybe even a snowball thrown or two.

A choreographed ping of notifications to all of your phones puts an end to that. Digging with numb fingers through your thick pockets, you manage to pull out your phone and swipe through to your notifications. An email from the Gotham U, odd for this late in the day.

An NYU student visiting home killed near GU campus, screams the subject line. It goes on to talk about measures the school is taking to keep students safe but you can’t help but click on the embedded news link. A funhouse mirror stares back, smiling. Sweat prickles at the nape of your neck. She looks like me..., you think dazedly. The texture of her hair, the colour of her eyes, even the sweep of her nose all echo yours. Dead in an alley, disfigured, torn to pieces, the news greedily crows. Violated. A hand falling heavy on your shoulder causes you to flinch, breaks the trance it has on you. With wild eyes you stare back up at Jason as he steadies you before you can fall on your ass on the ice. Wordlessly you look at your gathered friends and their bloodless faces.

“She looks like me,” you croak, needing to have someone – anyone – tell you that you’re seeing things.

“A little bit," Rei hedges, eyes darting to Lina for support.

“A little,” Will snorts, “try a lot."

“Hey–” Jason cuts in, glaring at Will over your head, “–not helpful.” He turns back to you, eyes still focused somewhere on your shoulder, neatly sliding himself between you and Will’s gaze. “What happened to her is a tragedy, yeah? But she’s not you, you’re right here with us and you’re safe.”

His voice – his presence – steadies you but it’s not enough to erase the mental image of the girl with your face dead in an alley you probably know. The dead girl you might have been if Jason hadn’t stopped that mugger. Your hand tightens around your phone until the edges cut into your palm and you shiver, but not from the cold.

“Sorry I don’t– I don’t really feel like having fun anymore.” You smile apologetically up at them over Jason’s shoulder. Your phone pings again, your mother texting for the first time in weeks asking if you’d seen the news. The smile on your face turns brittle. “I think I just want to go home for a bit.”

“Sure, but text when you get back and let us know if you need anything,” Danika tells you gently, throwing a withering look in Will’s direction and smacking his mostly healed arm. You bite your lip and nod, skating slowly over to a nearby bench to wrestle with your skates.

Large hands shoo your shivering fingers away and you look up to see the top of Jason’s curly head as he kneels in front of you. He props your skate up on one broad thigh and untangles the knot in silence. Gently, he sets one foot down and starts working on the other.

“Look I’ll walk you back so you don’t have to worry, yeah?" he says as he sets your foot back down, still not looking at you. You can’t do anything but nod and accept his help as you change back into your boots, cold air still biting through your thick socks.

The bus ride home is fairly silent between the two of you. Jason manages to snag a recently vacated seat and ushers you into it, leans against the hand rail and shields you from the world. Unable to spend the 20 minutes or so just staring at his belt buckle, torturing yourself with the clink it makes as it comes undone, you lean your head against the window glass and watch the world melt past. It starts to snow again, fat flurries gently skimming through the streets. A quiet, still cocoon has built around the two of you and not even the bus coming to a screeching halt at your stop breaks it. Dreamlike and hazy, your body pilots you back to your front door, Jason holding your bag as you fumble for your keys.

He turns to leave you at your doorstep then hesitates, fingers running through his snow dusted curls. “Would it– would it be fine if I took a look around?” he mutters nervously. “Just, I noticed the other day that there’s some potential security issues and I’d feel better if I took a look and maybe you’d too?” His voice rises on the last syllable.

You stare at him for a second, baffled by his questions. He shifts his weight from foot to foot as you continue to stare.

“...yeah that’s fine,” you finally say. Looking for your phone to let Danika know you’re back, unthinkingly you add, “You already know your way around.” Facing away from him, you freeze, cursing yourself out mentally for the reminder of the last time he had entered your apartment. He clears his throat awkwardly.

“I’ll just be quick, yeah?”

Jason pads through your apartment quickly and surprisingly quietly for man his side as you unwind your scarf from around your shoulders and brush the half melted snow from your coat. Your sweater goes over the back of a chair to dry, leaving you standing in the kitchen in just your thin thermal undershirt. Jason chooses just that moment to walk back in.

“–should probably be fine, might want to change the lock on the fire escape window but– hey. C’mere.” He moves to hug you – he moves first! – and you fall into him, arms wrapping tight around his waist under his jacket. He freezes up at first as you nuzzle into him, the warmth of his chest cutting through the icy fingers that had grown around your spine at the sight of the dead girl that wasn’t quite you but could have been. Jason’s arms come around you, hold you tight to him like you’re actually something precious to him. A hand comes up to cradle the back of your skull and he sighs, body relaxing into yours.

“Probably just a bad coincidence, but I’ll look into it,” he whispers into the crown of his head. You can feel the zipper of his jacket pressing into you through the thin material of your thermal. “Don’t gotta worry about this at all, yeah?” His voice rumbles through your chest.

“You’re a good friend,” you mumble into his shirt. Slowly you lean back into his hand until you can look him in the eyes, nowhere for him to escape your searching gaze. He’s still tall, but there’s a half inch less of a difference between you without his boots on. Your hand slips from its python grip around his waist and tentatively winds itself around the nape of his neck. Finally, after what feels like months of yearning and waiting but had only been a few keenly felt weeks, Jason Todd looks you in the eyes.

There’s something unreadable there, some dark possessive emotion you can’t quite set your finger on. It’s too late. It’s everything you’d ever wanted from him. Makes the small part of yourself you’d tried so hard to bury over the last few weeks come clawing out of the shallow grave you’d dug for it. Vindication and bitterness go to war in your belly. Slowly you bring a hand up to trace over the sharp point of his cheekbone. His eyes close and he inhales sharply through his nose, full body shuddering as you move to tuck his hair behind his ear.

“S’all I want to be–” his eyes open wide, pupils rapidly eating up the blue of them “–your friend.”

“We are,” you reassure him. Tentatively you let the hand at his neck drift through his curls. Carefully note the way he relaxes into your grip. “Good friends.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and Jason tracks the movement with predatory hunger. His own lips part in response and you’re so close you can almost feel his breath on your skin. Tension spools out into the space between you, so thick you could almost reach out and grip the knotted mess of it with your bare hands. You hardly dare to breathe know that you’ve finally got Jason’s attention, a physical, tangible thing that traces the swell of your cheeks and the curve of your lower lip. He swallows and you press the full length of your body against him.

“We can stay good friends, can’t we?” you breath out. Inch by inch you draw yourself closer to him, attuned to him in case he draws back, before gently drawing the tip of your cold nose from the hinge of his jaw to the sharp jut of his chin. Inhale the warm scent of him under the lingering smell of the cold outdoors. “We understand each other,” you say, almost directly into his mouth. “So well, because we’re friends, right?” His hold on you tightens. “So well, that we don’t even have to talk about this part, right?” you plead, desperate for him to let you have this.

Jason’s lips crash onto yours and delirious laughter bubbles up into your chest. Easy, so easy. All you had to do was amputate your sense of dignity. His fingers tighten in your hair as he pulls back, breathing ragged and rough.

“We’re just– just friends,” he pants, and the sight of him so out of control makes you giddy. “But so long as we don’ talk about it we can have this too.”

You answer him by kissing him again, the soft, sweet touch of your lips turned into something filthier as he invades your mouth. His hand slides down from your waist to palm your ass as he walks you back into the bedroom, still familiar from the last time he was there. Efficiently, both of your clothes come off, his jacket and belt hitting the floor with heavy thuds. He takes his time looking at you, and you drink up the sensation. It’s been so long since he’s truly, properly looked at you and you want to enjoy it while it lasts.

Because it won’t. He’ll retreat again or get tired of you, or both. It’s temporary, this complicated, burning thing between you, or at least it is on his part. You won’t ever have his heart, no that’s something so far beyond your grasp it’s laughable to even think about, but you can have this. His desire. His attention. His base need to fuck someone wet and willing. You can have just this much of him and no more.

There’s no air of urgency this time as he explores your body this time, palms smoothing over the length of your ribs. You shiver as he trails still cool fingers across your hips, across the fat and muscle cradling your womb. Hiss as he parts your slick folds with them, his fingers freezing against the burning heat of your core. Jason grins at your reaction before pressing a finger in in in, causing you to arch off the bed and clench down at the intrusion. He laughs as your thighs tremble at the stretch in your cunt when he adds another finger. Peppers kisses down your neck until he can bite and lave at the bud of your breast, working his fingers in and out of you the whole while.

Jason draws back and you moan at the loss, try and chase after him but he pushes you back down onto the bed.

“M’coming back, just need the condom outta my wallet. Need you to be patient, yeah?”

You nod but whine anyway when he pulls his fingers out of your tight heat, already bereft by the loss of him. He rolls the condom on and you want to hide from embarrassment when you see just how shiny with your slick his hands are. Carefully he adjusts your limbs to where he wants them, hooks your thighs over his hips and threads one hand through yours as he slowly starts to press in.

And it’s not– it’s not tender, but it’s kind, the way he slowly feeds every inch of his cock into you. Kisses you as you hiccup and squirm your way through accepting the fat weight of his dick in your guts, tensing and unclenching as he tears you in two only to stitch you back together. Finally, finally his hips hit yours and your eyes close as you sigh in relief at having taken him all. With a sticky hand Jason brushes the side of your face, places a kiss to where your furrowed brows meet. He waits until you relax under him, nod and let him know that you’re ready, before he starts to move, both of his hands tangled up in yours.

It’s such a relief to feel the heavy drag of him inside of you again, where he belongs your traitorous mind whispers. Immobilized, spread out, and pinned down beneath him like this you can do nothing but eagerly accept what he chooses to give you. He swallows the gasps and sighs of pleasure directly from the source as he plunders your mouth. Kisses down your jaw and nibbles at your throat. He bites down at the cords of your throat in a cruel mark of ownership you know he doesn’t mean just as he thrusts into the soft gummy part of your cunt that has you seeing stars.

You can’t help the whine of “Oh please, Jay,” as it is torn out of you, but you feel the exact moment his strong body stops rocking into yours and you realize your mistake. “M’sorry, m’sorry. Know you don’t like– didn’t mean to say it. M’sorry,” you babble, mortified by your error and wanting to bury your face in the pillows to disappear because he’d told you.

“Shhh shh shh,” he soothes, running the pad of his thumb across the outer corner of your eye, collecting the tears of frustration gathering there. You’re cursing yourself, terrified he’s going to take even this away from you because you couldn’t keep your big mouth shut and not let the name he hates slip from your tongue. “It’s okay, s’okay. You can call me Jay, okay, but only here. Just for you, just here, yeah?”

You nod, keening your agreement as he punctuates his words with a slow thrust back into you. His pace increases, no longer leisurely but controlled. Sharp thrusts in accompanied filthy, slow drags out. Your’s so full you can practically feel him at the base of your throat, carving out any claim to your body that isn’t his. Pleasure crawls up your veins, burns deep in your belly as Jason fucks you. The wet squelch of you around his cock makes your cunt flutter and he groans into the side of your throat at the sensation. Sweat beads at the base of your spine as the too much too good feeling winches you up higher, muscles curling tight. It only takes Jason growling into your skin, cock curving up at just the right angle, to shove you off that final ledge.

Sightless and weightless, stretched thin around him, you scrabble at his solid weight, desperate for something to anchor you to the present.

“ ‘ank you. Thank you. Please, god. Jay. JayJayJay,” you sob, words slurring together as he fucks your brains out, fucks you through it. He comes to the feel of you rippling around his cock and his name on your lips.

Jason’s still there in the morning, warm and whole in the bed next to you. Your heart isn’t so lucky.

part 10

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd smut #jason todd fic #ydcmb (uibyt) series #sunnie writes 🌻

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allenkel · 5 months ago

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Parker Luck Chapter 1

Parker Luck- Chapter 1

“Drowning”

By: Allen Kelsey

After saying his goodbyes to Ned and MJ, Peter returned to Dr. Strange, his heart pounding. “I’m ready… I’m ready.” He repeated these words like a mantra, trying to convince himself as much as Dr. Strange. Pain radiated from his wounds, cuts, and scrapes, each sting a reminder of the battle he had just endured. The one on his torso felt like fire, a jagged reminder of a lightning strike.

“Good, but this is going to be risky,” Dr. Strange warned, his voice grave. “The invasion of the multiverse is making this world unstable—magic included. Are you sure about this? If this goes wrong…” He let the words hang, the weight of them settling heavily in the air.

Peter nodded, determination blazing in his eyes. He didn’t want to use this spell. Not for the kid who fought beside him in a war that wasn’t his own. Not for the kid who died in Tony’s arms, only to be brought back just to witness Tony’s sacrifice.

“Is… Is it supposed to be green?” Peter’s voice broke through the tension. Dr. Strange snapped back to reality, eyes darting to the spell. No, it shouldn’t be green. A jolt of panic surged through him.

“Oh shit, Parker—”

Before the warning could fully escape his lips, the spell erupted, a blinding flash of chaos. It hurt, a searing light that consumed everything in its path. Peter braced himself, knowing this moment would change everything.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

His body felt like it was on fire. A violent disassembly and reassembly, like tearing paper to shreds and frantically trying to piece it back together. It echoed the sensation he had when dusted, his spider-sense screaming.

DANGER. PAIN. RUN. GET. AWAY.

The noise was deafening, a relentless hammering in his skull.

Wait, his head? Peter realized he was floating. But not in water; it was thicker, like molasses, suffocating his movements. Panic surged as he felt the burning in his lungs. Lack of oxygen clawed at him. He opened his eyes, only to be blinded by a bright, toxic green that seared his vision. He shut them immediately, the pain sharp and overwhelming.

Still trapped, he thrashed his arms, desperate to find something—anything—that would lead him to air. But nothing greeted him. Thoughts grew fuzzy. His limbs turned to lead. He needed air, and he needed it fast.

With one last desperate push, he opened his eyes again. The same sickly green greeted him, swallowing his hope. Just when despair threatened to drown him, he thought he heard footsteps—two figures approaching. Consciousness slipped away as he felt someone lift him.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dick and Jason were investigating a spike in radioactive energy in the dense forest near the Manor. Barbara had tipped them off over an hour ago, but so far, they had turned up empty.

“I’m starting to think Babs did this just to screw with us,” Jason sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was early morning—around 5 am—and he was already feeling the weight of the day. He had spent the previous night stopping Black Mask from launching another drug ring. The guy was obsessed with that stuff, and Jason had managed to get a solid 7-8 hours of sleep, too.

“I don’t think so. The radiation meter keeps going off randomly—oh shit.” Dick paused, catching Jason's attention. “There’s something to the North. A big something. The radiation meter is going nuts, Jay!”

Jason’s expression shifted from fatigue to excitement. “Fucking finally!” he shouted, pumping his fist in the air. Dick shot him a disapproving glance, but they quickly moved toward the source of the radiation signal.

They stopped abruptly at a small cave opening. “How the hell did Bruce miss a cave that’s basically in his backyard?” It took them a while to find it. The radiation meter was all over the place—indicating signals in every direction and then some. It was starting to drive Jason crazy. Each beep felt like a mini rollercoaster, and he was ready to jump off.

But now, here they were, at the mouth of the cave, adrenaline surging. This could be the breakthrough they needed.

Jason pressed his finger to the comm in his ear, feeling the slight buzz of connection. “We found the place. It’s a small cave. We haven’t gone in yet though.”

He caught the faint sound of a mug being placed down. “Just be careful, Hood,” Oracle said, her voice steady. “Whatever’s in there could be dangerous.”

Jason rolled his eyes, annoyance creeping in. Oracle anticipated his reaction and added, “And Nightwing, make sure Hood doesn’t go in guns blazing first and ask questions later.”

A chuckle escaped Oracle as Jason groaned. “Gotcha,” Dick replied lightly, removing his finger from the comm.

They approached the cave’s narrow entrance, Dick leading with purpose. Jason followed closely, three steps behind. The air felt damp, yet the ground was surprisingly dry. A knot formed in Jason’s stomach.

Dick sensed it too. After they had gone only five feet inside, he gripped one of his escrima sticks, eyes scanning the shadows. Jason tightened his hold on his gun, the weight of it reassuring.

They halted at a bend in the cave. The walls here were bone dry, a stark contrast to the entrance. Jason couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, especially with the spike in radiation the meter had detected here.

Dick signaled that it was safe to move forward. But as they turned the corner, they froze.

In front of them was a Lazarus pit, smaller than the one Jason came out of, but the sickly green hue and the putrid smell of decay were unmistakable. Jason could see himself drowning, struggling for air as burning lungs fought against the deathly embrace.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him back to reality. Dick’s worried expression made him look more like a sad puppy than anything else. “You good there, Jay?”

Jason stared for a moment, his thoughts racing to catch up. He nodded, taking a deep breath, though it felt like inhaling poison. “I’m alright, just... didn’t expect this to be here.” He glanced at the pit again, his stomach churning with unease. Why did it have to be here?

“Alright, if you say so,” Dick replied, still concerned. “But if you feel like losing your shit, just let me know, okay?” He squeezed Jason's shoulder gently, offering a reassurance Jason didn’t realize he needed. It helped, dimming the storm inside him, if only slightly. He nodded, and Dick released him, turning back to the glowing pit.

At least they know now what was causing the radiation spike, but an unsettling feeling lodged itself deeper in his gut. They edged closer, tension in the air thick enough to cut. Dick then turned away to report back to Babs on what they’d found.

Against his better judgment, Jason moved tentatively forward. His heart raced. He peered into the pit, drawn by a morbid curiosity. What was that? He inched closer, eyes widening as he realized what it was.

“Oh shit…” Jason barely got the words out before a thick green fog swallowed his vision. He threw off his helmet, panic driving him as he dove into the pit. Behind him, Dick stood frozen, his mind racing.

Jason’s body sank into the viscous, acid-green liquid. It felt unsettlingly familiar, a sensation that twisted his gut. But there was something else—an instinct, a certainty. Someone was down there. He reached into the depths, fingers brushing against a thin, fragile arm.

A child.

With a surge of urgency, Jason pulled the small figure close, wrapping his arms around the kid as his feet touched the pit’s bottom. He bent down and propelled himself upward, breaking the surface with a desperate gasp.

Air flooded his lungs as he emerged, eyes wide with terror. Dick was there, rushing toward him, his expression a mix of shock and fear. The only sounds were Jason’s ragged breaths and the dry heaves that wracked his body.

Dick grunted, straining to pull them both from the pit’s grasp. The acidic stench clung to them as he dragged Jason and the child back to the cave’s dry ground. Dick’s eyes were wide, filled with horror, but the shock quickly faded into determination. He checked the child’s pulse—nothing. Without hesitation, he started chest compressions, urgency coursing through him.

“Why the hell was there a kid in there?!” Dick shouted, his voice rough, a mix of panic and disbelief. His breaths came in heavy gasps, each one feeling like a weight in his chest.

“How the fuck should I know, Dick?! I had a bad feeling. I got closer to that thing, and then—there was a literal child in it! My first instinct? Grab the kid, ask questions later!” Jason’s voice was sharp, cutting through the chaos around them. He could see Dick's eyes, wide with shock, mirroring his own horror. But right now, they didn’t have time to unravel the why or how. The child lay motionless, not breathing.

“Sorry, shit, sorry! I’m freaking out!” Dick stammered, his hands shaky against the small, fragile body.

“Oh shut it! Just keep doing chest compressions on the kid while I get Oracle to have Agent A set up a bed in the med bay!” Jason barked. Dick just nodded, focusing back on the child before him. The stillness was suffocating. He felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. If this kid didn’t start breathing soon, he’d have to push harder, risk breaking fragile ribs or worse.

With every compression, Dick felt the dread building. The kid remained lifeless, and despair clawed at his insides. Just as he braced himself to push with more force, he felt it—a slight cough, a tremor beneath his hands. The child’s body lifted slightly, as if fighting back against the darkness.

Holy shit, he’s alive!

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Peter’s eyes snapped open. He gasped, his body convulsing as he coughed violently, expelling the green liquid that had filled his lungs. The fit went on until every bitter drop was out.

Exhaustion washed over him, mingled with a deep gratitude for whoever had saved him. His spider-sense was quiet, a rare moment of peace indicating he was safe, at least for now. Panic faded as he focused on the simple joy of breathing again.

Once he steadied his breath, Peter turned his gaze to the two people beside him. One was close, arm around his shoulder in a half hug, a comforting weight he couldn’t muster the energy to resist. The other man knelt before him, lips moving, but Peter struggled to catch his words.

The first man had lightly tanned skin, a patterned mask obscuring his features. His dark brown hair curled just above his ears, giving him a youthful appearance. Batons hung from his back, ready for action. His suit clung to his frame, adorned with a bright blue bird emblazoned on his chest, wings stretching down to his lower arms. A dark utility belt held an array of gadgets, each one hinting at stories of battles fought and won.

Curiosity sparked within Peter, but he pushed it aside for now. He shifted his focus back to the kneeling man.

He was lean but muscular, his physique defined beneath his clothes. His hair mirrored the first guy's, yet a striking white streak set it apart. His skin, slightly tanned, was paler than bluebirds, and his eyes—an unsettling blend of blue and an unnatural green—prompted Peter to jot down questions for later.

The man wore a brown leather jacket, a red helmet tucked against his side. Patches adorned the jacket, one resembling a fierce red bird. Underneath, a black, skin-tight bodysuit clung to him, though the jacket obscured the symbol on it, leaving Peter guessing.

By his upper thighs, bulky objects caught Peter's eye. One thing he never fully got over was his fear of guns after Ben’s death, but with being Spider-man he had to learn to deal with it. The idea that the man infront of him could possibly have guns on hand made him uneasy. He just hoped he was wrong.

They were both talking to each other, with words slowly starting to become audible but not enough for him to understand what the conversation was about. “He’s not—Well I don’t—But the kid-” Their voices kept cutting out, replaced by muffled ones and the slight sound of static that Peter decided to ignore. Peter’s body ached significantly which was why he decided to just let them man-handle him like a toddler but after a minute his vision finally cleared and his first thought was, ‘Oh- those ARE guns..’ Which definitely didn’t make him feel any better either but he decided to ignore it like he does everything else and figure out what happened properly. Dr. Strange's spell went all ‘God's Heavenly Earth’ on his ass and from the amount of pain he was in before he died.. Died? Oh- yeah he definitely died.. Not an unfamiliar feeling but not pleasant either. But hey! He’s alive again.. Somehow so no need to worry about that whole situation at hand!

Then the world felt like it was spinning as the man scooped him up like a toddler. “Wha—” His throat burned from the earlier coughing fit. Coughing again only startled the blue-bird, who flinched and began rubbing circles on his back. It definitely didn’t make him feel any better at all!

As they moved through the cave tunnel, unease crept in. The damp air and echoing footsteps gave him the hibbe-geebeez. Yet, exhaustion weighed on his eyelids. With each step, the darkness felt inviting. He surrendered, closed his eyes, and fell into a deep sleep, like a light switched off.

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EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I FINISHED THE FIRST CHAPTER!

I hope you all like it! I tried to not drag the paragraphs on too long but there's still some big ones in the chapter! ALSO, This was inspired mainly by Dark Matter on Ao3 by mysterycyclone so check them out!

Storyline notes for anything that confused you all!

Peter's vision was wonky mainly because his healing factor was being wonky and his healing factor in my opinion makes his vision clear but when it doesn't do its thing for a while or if Peter-you know- dies his vision AND asthma kind of reappears until his healing factor knocks it back to being all better but! Peter's asthma attacks still appear every now and then but technically he doesn't need an inhaler when it happens because it's more like his mind is tricked into believing that he can't breathe and such!

IMPORTANT!- If the Next button for you to be able to go to the next chapter ISN'T green then it's not out yet and I didn't just forget to link it!

With all of that out of the way, I NEED ANSWERS!

[Next]

[Master post]

[Chapter 1 Sneak Peek]

[Ao3 Version]

#fanfic #update #peter parker #chapter 1 #Spider-man X DC #Tim drake #Duke thomas #Jason Todd #Dick grayson #Nightwing #batman #RedHood #Spider-Man

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antebunny · 8 months ago

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a summer is sold

[part six of my fae!Tim AU. masterpost here]

Bruce returns to the Unseelie Queen. He steps through the fae circle with the trusty protections of salt and iron. It is quite unlike Batman to use tools that are so low-tech, but he will not deny the efficacy of that which has protected humankind from the fae for thousands of years.

“Unseelie Queen!” Bruce shouts. Last time the forest of mushrooms simply melted into a clearing where he placed his protections and conducted his business. Today, the poisonously red caps simply grow and grow until the mushrooms tower over him.

The smell of organic matter decaying and a swirl of turquoise leaves. She arrives in her usual fashion. Ten feet tall and dressed in a gown of rushing rivers and starlit nights. A gray face and the smile of nightmares. The Unseelie Queen attempts of human beauty and misses in a manner so violently unsettling, so uncanny-valley-upsetting, that even Batman feels fear.

“I have come to make a new deal.” Bruce shows no fear. Rule number one.

“Oh?” The Unseelie Queen bends down until her back splits in four places and they are eye to eye. Screams dance madly in her silver-violet-smoke black eyes until Bruce drops his gaze to her chin. “Do you wish for me to take back my gift?”

Not Jason. It is love that pangs around Bruce’s heart, love that morphs into fear when she threatens Jason’s life out of curiosity.

“You overreached,” Bruce accuses. He will not acknowledge her threat. Rule number two: admit to no emotion but rage. “You made a deal with Tim for humanity. If he fails, he leaves.”

This is once again educated guesswork on Bruce’s part. He’s still not sure what the Unseelie Queen is getting out of all of this. But Tim clearly wants to stay in the human realm. How else to punish him but to make him leave?

“If he leaves, you’ve failed your bargain with me,” Bruce continues.

The Unseelie Queen gnashes row after row of teeth to dust until her frustration works itself out. “You cannot make a deal on his behalf.”

“And you can?”

Bruce’s bargain with her depended, from the very beginning, on her right to bargain Tim away. He had believed, when she first handed Tim over, that Tim was a subject of the fae, a member of the Unseelie Court, and therefore hers to do what she liked with. A loyal subject. A spy meant to serve as the Unseelie Queen’s hand in a realm she could not otherwise reach.

But Tim delights in the cuisine explorations Dick and Jason take him to. He soaks up Barbara’s computer crash courses, which is quite unusual for a fae; they are notoriously tech-averse. He yearns to be human. If there is any chance that Tim truly wants to turn away from the Unseelie Queen, then it is the morally right thing to do to keep him away from her. Batman has offered hand after hand to the most irredeemable villains; what is one more to a strange little creature who may still be a child by the standards of the fae?

Moreover, it is in Bruce’s and his family’s own best interest to expedite Tim’s process of becoming human. If Tim’s deal with the Unseelie Queen doesn’t work, he may attempt to become human by eating one, or by stealing the skin of one, or whatever else a fae’s mind might think up. Suppose, even, that the Unseelie Queen has no jurisdiction over the humanity of her subjects. It made sense to Bruce that she could de-fae whoever displeased her, but he knows now that she makes promises vastly out of her reach. Perhaps she has no humanity to offer Tim. Then it is still in Bruce’s best interest to keep Tim away from her and teach him the morality of humans.

“Very well.” The whistling shriek of wind in the trees escapes the Unseelie Queen’s nostrils. “What is your proposal?”

“I keep Jason, no strings attached.” Bruce doesn’t need Jason one slip-up away from dying again. “I keep Tim. If he fails his bargain with you–”

“Do you love him?”

Bruce, caught flat-footed, adheres to rule number two.

The Unseelie Queen cycles through a magnificent number of eldritch recreations of faces, yet maintains the air of leering. “Do. You. Love. Him.”

Rule number three: do not lie to the fae.

“No.”

Another hiss akin to howling wind issues from the Unseelie Queen in fits and spurts. Not until she calms does Bruce realize she was laughing.

“He may be your responsibility now,” the Unseelie Queen concedes, “but he will always be mine before he is yours. You may keep Jason. But if dearest Timothy fails, he will return to me.”

Now it is Bruce’s turn to gnash his teeth. But he follows rule number one and hides it behind the stiff line of his cowl. “Three-fourths,” he suggests finally. “He’s done that much. Cancel the bargain you have with him right now and take one fourth. You’ll have him in the summers. I’ll take him the rest of the year. And I keep Jason.”

He waits patiently as an awful cacophony of bird calls, the clicking of beetles, and all the untempered rage of nature arises to spite him. The Unseelie Queen sways, collapsing into an eight-legged beast rampaging around the mushroom forest one second, then whirling into the purple sky the next. A tempest. A temper tantrum. The Unseelie Queen throws a hissy fit when she realizes that she cannot get away with her double-bargaining this time. That because of her habit of trying to have her cake and eat it too, her favorite toy is at risk of slipping away. Bruce always offers second chances, but in this instance he finds himself entirely out of sympathy.

“Fine,” the Unseelie Queen hisses once she finishes throwing a tantrum. “I accept.”

Bruce does not love Tim. Tim is not his son. He acts on moral imperatives. His heart opens glacially slow. If they had more time, perhaps Bruce would come to love Tim and see him as one of his kids. Perhaps he would not have had to fight the Unseelie Queen for 75% of Tim’s life. But the summer is escaping, and Bruce knows when compromises must be made even if he detests them.

Now he just has to tell Tim.

#tim drake #fae tim #bruce wayne #my writing #my fanfiction #batfam #batman #me at the readers who thought bruce would have to love tim by the end of summer:#bitch you THOUGHT #the divorced parents scene #negotiating child custody #tim's like uhhh do i get a say #both of them: NO #although tim's just happy to be here #about halfway through writing this scene i completely lost track of all the deals made #maybe i should make a post that's just the timeline #and what each person knows #would you guys appreciate that let me know

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whoevenheckinknows · 3 months ago

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Fantasies Of You Pt. 1/2 (DickJay Week 2025 Day 3) (Explicit)

Chapter 1: Fantasies

Part 2 AO3

Fandom: Batman All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Warnings Apply Relationship: Dick Grayson x Jason Todd, Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd,

Tags: DickJay week 2025, Dickjay week day 3, Inappropriate Use of Dick's Escrima Sticks, pining, pseudo-incest, masturbation, bottom jason todd, fantasizing, object insertion, actually beta read for once so we're revived also like Jason todd, more tags to be added with chapter 2, Do not post to other sites, Cross-Posted on my other socials, POV Third Person

Summary: Jason finds an abandoned pair of Dick's escrima sticks and is filled with such want for Dick's cock the escrima sticks up his ass. He tries to resist, but eventually he gives in… more than once.

But the more times you do something, the more likely you are to get caught, and it's only a matter of time until someone discovers Jason's little indulgence.

AN: This was my first ever attempt to write smut. I only ended up getting halfway through what I wanted, so I figured I'd just publish this part for Day 3, then finish the rest for free week (if it's done by then). Hope y'all enjoy!

18 Silver Fox Dick Grayson|Amnesia|Inappropriate Use of Dick's Escrima Sticks|Battlefield Injuries|Sugar Baby Jason

Chapter 1: Fantasies

~~~~~

It starts like this. After a long and tiring patrol, Jason decides to stop at one of the less used Bat safehouses for the night. The place is covered in dust from disuse, and any food that doesn't have a long shelf life has long since gone bad. If Jason were less tired, he might've cleaned up a little. He usually hates inhabiting a dirty space. But, it's not like this safehouse belongs to him, so he could really not care less about cleaning it right now.

He strips out of his Red Hood uniform and plops down on the couch in the living room, shutting his eyes. Damn, even just the couch feels like heaven on his sore muscles. He can only imagine how comfortable the bed will feel if he ever gains the energy to get up and make his way to the bedroom.

Jason sighs and opens his eyes. That's when he sees them.

There, underneath the coffee table in front of the couch, Jason can make out two escrima sticks laying abandoned on the floor. He stretches his arm out to grasp them and pull them out.

Jason doesn't know how long they must have been there. He just saw Nightwing out tonight with a pair, slightly upgraded compared to these ones, so he knows these must be long abandoned. Jason doesn't know what to do with them. He can bring them to Dick, but he doesn't know if Dick will care one way or another. They are old after all.

Sure, he knows Dick will be happy if he returns them. If not for getting the sticks back, then for Jason making time to go see the older man. He'll smile that wide smile of his, and thank Jason so genuinely, even if Jason knows he'll probably never use those sticks again. They'll most likely get scrapped or just thrown in a pile of spares.

But he'll grasp those sticks so tightly as he pulls Jason into a tight hug. Even as Jason will struggle (albeit halfheartedly, but Dick wouldn't need to know that), Dick will continue to whisper thanks in Jason's ear. Maybe Jason will feel the sticks, still in Dick's hands, slightly brush against his back, causing a shiver to run down his spine. Maybe he'll be holding the sticks just low enough, and they'll be just long enough, to lightly rub against the crack of Jason's ass.

Maybe he'll offer a way to repay Jason for returning them.

Jason blinks the image out of his mind. He feels his dick twitch in interest and has to fight back an aggravated groan. Goddammit, he is not in the mood to deal with his complicated feelings towards his older brother.

He throws the sticks back onto the ground and uses his arm to cover his eyes. He tries to ignore the thoughts trying to push into his head as he falls asleep.

In the land of dreams, it's harder to ignore the thoughts of Dick showing Jason exactly how he'll thank him.

Jason wakes up with a sticky feeling in his underwear and the need for a long cold shower.

~~~

Jason tries to put that night behind him, he really does. It's not like it's the first time Jason's had to push his progressively more lustful thoughts of his older brother to the back of his mind. It 's likely not the last either.

He's able to ignore it for all of ten days. Ten days of looking away any time he catches a glance of Nightwing holding his new escrima sticks. Ten days of forcing himself to not stare at Dick both in and out of costume. Ten days of trying to forget the dream as best he can.

Ten days, of course, doesn't last forever.

Jason, injured and more than a little exhausted, makes his way to the nearest safehouse. Of course, its only as he grapples onto the fire escape that he realizes just which safehouse he's gone to. If he were any less tired, he'd turn right back around and find a different place to crash. Instead, he takes a deep breath and makes his way inside.

Jason quickly strips out of his Red Hood armor and throws the pieces onto the floor. Grabbing the first aid kit, he sits down on the couch in just his underwear and a tank top. It doesn't take long to address his wounds, just a few cuts and bruises. In no time at all he's done and he finds himeself with nothing else to distract his thoughts. He can see those damn escrima sticks, right on the ground where he threw them.

He really should just leave them. Go into the bedroom to sleep, or get up and go to a completely different safehouse, now that he's patched up. But… he can't stop himself from reaching down and grasping the sticks tightly. He brings them closer to his face to get a better look. He caresses one gently, feeling the cool and smooth material on his warm skin. The feeling sends a shiver through him. How would they feel rubbing other parts of his body?

Jason dick twitches. He can imagine Dick running these along his skin. Starting at his neck, maybe pressing in just a bit to hear Jason choke. Trailing lower over his pecs, grazing his nipples teasingly as he does. Down further past his abs and hips, and all the way down to his cock. Only spending a moment running it along that before turning him around and ramming it straight into Jason's ass. Maybe there would have been prep, maybe there wouldn't have. Either way the image makes Jason's blood rush south. Picturing that long stick being pumped in and out of him, or hell, both sticks doing so, fills Jason with a desperate need he's never felt before.

Using the stick in hand, Jason gently strokes his thigh. The damn thing isn't even touching his cock, yet the cool sensation sends a shiver down his spine. He traces the seam of his boxers until the stick brushes against his clothed bulge. His breath hitches. He brings the stick back down his thigh, and this time catching under the loose fabric. It moves up, pulling the edge of the boxer as the stick creeps under. Finally, it lands exactly where Jason wants it.

Jason gasps. The cool metal on his heated cock feels even better than he ever could have imagined.

Jason allows only a few strokes before he pulls the stick out. He places both next to him and bends down to his discarded utility belt. He pulls out a condom and a packet of lube that he keeps in there for the working girls. As much as he longs to feel the metal inside of him, he doesn't know where they've been or how long they've been here collecting dust.

Bending over causes Jason to become painfully aware of his hardening dick. He should probably give it some proper attention first, before anything else.

Jason's hand starts to palm over his clothed bulge. He sighs out at the feeling. His mind starts to wander as he hardens under the ministrations. Reaching under his waistband, he imagines it's someone else's hand grasping him. In his head, it's Dick's hand that's now slowly stroking, moving up and down leisurely on his cock as if there's all the time in the world. A thumb rubs at his tip, teasing the slit while allowing some precum to leak out. Jason thinks of how Dick would murmur and tease him as he slowly works over his cock.

Heavy breathing fills the room, interrupted only by moans and grunts. His hand works overtime as he changes between longer, teasing strokes, and short jerks. His mind is plagued only by thoughts of what Dick would say to Jason as he continues to jerk himself off. Would Dick be the kind of lover to whisper loving praise into his ear? Or would he be the type to give filthy commands Jason would have no choice but to follow? He can hear it now. Dick’s amused and heated voice whispering to him-Cum for me, Jay.

A loud moan rips through him, his orgasm sudden and intense. His hips stutter as he continues moving his hand, slowing down to milk the orgasm as much as he can. Damn. He must have really been pent up if he came that quickly.

Jason takes a moment to bask in feeling. Fuck, he really needed this.

Glancing to the side, Jason sees the escrima sticks sitting innocently next to him. In his post-nut clarity, he thinks of stopping now while he's ahead. Sure, he just had a fucking fantastic orgasm to the thought of his brother giving him a hand job. That's fucked up in its own way, he knows. But using Dick's escrima for his own pleasure? Would that be a step too far?

Looking down to where his cock is still semi-hard inside his soiled underwear, he decides fuck it. In for a penny in for a pound.

Pulling his boxers down and off, Jason tosses them carelessly onto the pile of Red Hood armor on the floor. He resumes stroking his dick, slowly working it back up. It doesn't take long at all for him to become fully erect once more.

Jason rips open the lube packet and squirts some onto his fingers. Making sure it covers his whole hand, he doesn't give it enough time to warm up as he reaches behind himself.

Using his index finger, Jason lightly circles his rim. Feeling the still cool lube on his ass causes a groan to escape his lips. He slowly pushes the tip of one finger inside, feeling his cock jerk at the action. Despite his recent orgams causing him to be fairly sensitive, it still feels fucking incredible.

Jason slowly pushes the finger all the way in and clenches down in response. Moving the finger slowly, it doesn't take long for him to be loose enough to add another. He pumps in and out, switching between scissoring and thrusting his fingers. Working himself open, Jason's mind once again wanders to Dick. Imagines that it's Dick's fingers spreading him wide, preparing him for Dick's cock escrima. Dick's fingers that brush oh so slightly on his prostate, causing a burst of pleasure to hit him without warning.

At this angle, Jason can't quite thrust into it like he desperately wants to. Like Dick probably would. But even just the light touches quickly turn Jason into a moaning mess, his hips jerking into the air in an attempt to push deeper.

A third finger is added, followed quickly by a fourth. Soon, Jason becomes desperate for more. He needs something bigger, something deeper. Thrusting only a few more times, Jason pulls out completely. He strokes his cock a few times as well, watching the lube mix with the cum and fresh precum that coat the head.

Grabbing one of the escrima sticks, Jason opens and rolls the condom on. He strokes it roughly with his lube and cum covered hand. It's not quite enough, so he squeezes the rest of the lube on top. He makes sure it's nice and slick before getting into position.

Jason brings his knees up onto the sofa, and turns so his ass is high in air. He lines up with his ass, rubbing the slick covered tip around the entrance.

Then, he pushes it in.

Fuck. Even if Jason can't feel the metal, the cold lube inside of him makes a good substitute. He's only pushed it an inch or so, but he moans as a chill runs through him and he shivers in pleasure. He pushes down further. Inch by inch, he inserts the stick inside of him, thrusting in and out to stretch himself further. His moans increase in number as each thrust sends the stick deeper and deeper inside of him.

After a particularly deep thrust, Jason can't help himself from grinding down hard into the sofa. His cock rubs deliciously on the rough fabric underneath him.

Once again, his mind drifts. His brain pictures Dick behind him, being the one in control. Dick who pushes deeper and faster and harder. If Jason were to look back he would see his blue eyes filled with lust and even just the thought of it makes his groan again. Jason reaches in front of himself, and imagines it's Dick who grabs his cock and starts stroking with such intensity that Jason wants to scream.

Jason changes his angle with every thrust, imagining it's Dick searching for his prostate. And when he finally finds it? He attacks it ruthlessly. Jason's moans and whines get even louder, and Jason has to stop himself from coming again. He doesn't want this to end yet.

Jason's mind blurs further and suddenly it's Dick's cock inside of him, milking his prostate with such intensity. One of Dick's hands is on his hips, and the other is pumping Jason's cock deliciously.

Jason feels the pressure building and building with each thrust. It's too much. The stimulation of both his ass and cock overwhelms him and try as he might, he can't hold back anymore.

Jason lets out a loud cry as he cums. It's even more intense than before, bright spots in his vision as the pleasure fills every nerve in his body. He continues to thrust onto the cock stick and stroke himself to prolong the feeling for as long as he can. Eventually, though, he has to stop as overstimulation sets in.

He thinks about continuing anyway. Getting another round in, or spending the whole night with the escrima shoved up his ass. But exhaustion is creeping in. He knows he has to stop.

Jason slows to a halt, and strokes his cock a few more times to get out every last drop of cum out. Finally, he stills completely.

Jason sits there for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Covered in cum and sweat, with an escrima stick shoved as far as he could get it up his ass, he can imagine the sight he makes. But he can't care any less right now. Not when he feels satisfied for the first time in so, so long.

Now that his head is clear of lust, Jason feels a bit of regret. But, strangely, he doesn't feel nearly as much as he expected. In fact, as he looks down at the other stick, which has long since rolled off the couch, he has a thought. This definitely won't be the last time he does this.

End Note: My friend beta read this for me and made me rewrite it multiple times until it was halfway decent (maybe I'll post the og as crack at some point). Although she didn't get to read the last little bit cause I finished it today while also feeling like shit so if the ending sucks that's why. But she doesn't want to be associated with my "shitty porn" so I wont name her. She doesn't even ship this so everyone thank her for her suffering <3 If there's any errors, feel free to say in the comments. Or if you just want to talk.

Come talk to me elsewhere

AO3 Tumblr Twitter Bluesky

#djw2025 #DickJay week 2025 #DickJay week day 3 #dickjay #fanfic

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demigod-shenanigans · 3 months ago

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Force of Nature

Summary: After Scipio’s Death, Reyna finds herself full of grief that she has very little idea how to give room to. Piper makes space for it.

Word Count: ~8k total, split into two parts due to POV and tonal differences, first part is around 6k

Rating: Teen and Up

CW: animal death (off-screen), explorations of grief

Written for my friend @halcyon-hyacinth as a belated birthday gift. Also my first proper Pipeyna fic, which feels very fitting considering she’s the one who got me into this ship in the first place.

This started out as a Pipeyna hair braiding fic and kind of spiraled into an exploration of Reyna’s relationship with love as a whole (something something Reyna as a character who loves so much but is also terrified to let herself feel; something something Piper as a character who is fundamentally centered around love and feels everything all the time).

This is specifically pre-relationship bonding set in a universe where Piper and Jason broke up after Jason met Cupid (more info on that and a few more oneshots from the same universe can be found here, but having read the other fics in the series is not required to be able to understand this oneshot). Jason is tagged because Reyna’s relationship with him is explored, but Jason as a character doesn't actually appear in the fic. I also made myself very upset about Scipio.

Anyway! That’s enough rambling from me! I’ll probably post the second part of this on tumblr tomorrow, but the whole thing is already up on Ao3.

———

Chapter 1

Reyna needed to keep it together. Usually, this was not a task she particularly struggled with. Considering how her powers influenced the people around her, keeping her emotions in check had been one of the most important skills she’d taught herself. She couldn’t afford to let her fears and doubts bleed over into her troops mid-battle, after all.

But even years of learning to control herself could only do so much now that Scipio was nothing but gold dust between her fingers—indistinguishable from the many monsters Reyna had fought over the years, like he hadn’t been so much more.

Scipio had been the first friend she’d made after Circe’s Island.

Hylla had slotted right into place with the rest of the Amazons, but even in those early days, it had been obvious Reyna would never be at home there.

She’d spent the first week aimlessly wandering their headquarters. She still remembered stumbling into the massive hall of Amazon returns, filled to the brim with random boxes and magical items.

Reyna had barely paid attention to most of it—her eyes had immediately been drawn to a cursing Amazon in the middle of escorting the most majestic creature she’d ever seen out of a ridiculously-sized crate. She should have been careful, but her awe had briefly overwritten the caution she’d learned to carry herself with, and so she’d approached, eager to find out what was happening.

The Amazon had introduced the pegasus as Scipio, then spent a lot of time complaining about the difficulties of live pegasus shipping and how people should really learn to measure their stables correctly, but Reyna had only half-listened. She’d been too busy looking at the animal that had looked back at her with big black eyes, then gently lowered his head to nuzzle her cheek.

“Huh. Pegasi are usually really grumpy after shipping. He seems to like you,” the girl had said, eyebrows shooting up. “You wanna take over guiding him to the stables?”

Back then, Reyna hadn’t been able to control her powers the way she could now. She hadn’t even fully realized she had powers at the time. Now, she wondered if maybe Scipio had felt her awe and returned it in kind.

Not like she’d ever get to ask.

She held the remnants of gold dust to her chest, just for a moment. She didn’t know how to allow herself this ache. Didn't know how to make space for this grief without bringing down a whole ship of demigods with her—a ship of demigods who the continued existence of the world depended on. That was far more important than her and Scipio would ever be. Her friend had not bled and died only for her grief to mess up everything they had fought for.

Reyna took a few deep breaths, then stepped closer to the railing and opened her hands.

“Farewell, my friend,” she said quietly, blowing the dust off her hands and allowing it to scatter in the river below. Poseidon’s descendant returned to the currents.

Reyna thought quietly to herself that maybe this was part of Venus’ curse—for anyone who’d grow to love her in any way that mattered to inevitably leave her behind.

Reyna did not want to turn her back on Scipio for the last time. Did not want to face the world without her friend. But the only way she had left to move was forward, and moving forward alone was a concept she’d grown used to over the years. She no longer remembered how to be anything but a millstone around people’s necks that they eventually cut loose. She was not sure she’d ever truly known how to be loved as anything else.

Reyna willed her shaking hands to still, but they would not.

She was dreading to see the way her grief might have spilled over and affected the others. She turned regardless.

Reyna was surprised to find the deck of the ship almost deserted. The others had returned shortly after she’d arrived, asking her questions her brain hadn’t had the space to answer. Someone—through the haze of grief, she couldn’t remember who—had gently pressed a few ambrosia cubes into her hands. They’d eased Scipio’s pain, even if they hadn’t saved him. Reyna was grateful for that.

She hadn’t questioned why the noise around her had died down. She’d been too focused on Scipio to really think about it.

But now she found herself almost alone with her grief.

The only collateral was Piper McLean. She was leaning against the mast, messy hair moving in the wind. She was covered in cuts and bruises from a battle Reyna hadn’t witnessed, but she stood tall and proud, every bit the daughter of a goddess who symbolized love and war and victory each.

Reyna wasn’t sure how much of her inner turmoil Piper had felt, or what she’d say. From the very beginning, it had been hard for Reyna to get any kind of reliable read on Piper.

Maybe this shouldn’t have been surprising. She was her mother’s daughter, after all. Love was a force of nature—as inexorable and violent as it was beautiful—and it frightened Reyna more than most battles she’d fought.

Powerful, her mind had supplied when she’d first met Piper—arm linked with Jason’s, a smile on her lips and a dagger strapped to her belt. Dangerous, it had whispered when she’d first heard the magic in her words, and again when the crew of the Argo II had fled New Rome, as she watched Piper confuse dozens of well-trained soldiers with nothing but a few well-chosen words.

Now, her smile was friendly and her eyes were kind, and Reyna didn’t know what to make of that, either.

“Where is everyone?” she asked cautiously, quietly cursing herself for how watery her voice sounded. She needed to keep it together.

“I figured you’d want some space, so I sort of told them to scram,” Piper admitted, sounding almost sheepish. Reyna knew the way her voice sounded when it was infused with magic—knew all the ways the right words from the right person could twist someone’s mind—but there was no power in it now. “I didn’t stay to watch, for the record. That’s not- that would be weird. I just came back up to check on you,” she scrambled to explain, and Reyna was surprised to find that Piper seemed… almost nervous. “To ask if you, uhm, needed anything. Is there anything I can do?”

The alarm bells Reyna’s brain usually set off around her quieted down significantly. She allowed herself to consider the question, but regretted it almost immediately. There was only one thing she truly wanted, and it was an impossible ask.

Reyna wanted Jason. Not the version of him that was on this ship—the version of him that had left her, the way everyone always seemed to. Not the version of him that only remembered her in fragments. She wanted the Jason who’d been her best friend for three years. The Jason who'd known Scipio since her first day at Camp Jupiter, and who Scipio had bitten by way of hello.

The Jason that was here didn’t even know her. She had no hopes of him understanding her grief. No hopes of him standing next to her and holding out his hand—a quiet offer, the first time they’d had to light a pyre for a mutual friend, repeated at every funeral they attended after. Of sitting quietly on picnic blankets in the dark, both of them silent in their grief, but never alone.

Even if Reyna could have asked for him, she found she didn’t want to. She didn’t want another reminder of all that she’d lost.

“I don’t know,” she thought. “I have no idea what I need.”

It was only when Piper visibly reacted, lips parting slightly, that Reyna realized with horror she must have spoken the words out loud.

“That’s okay,” Piper said gently. “Maybe come below deck for now? You’re probably exhausted. It might be nice to just sit down for a moment, and you can figure things out from there.”

Reyna took another deep breath, then nodded. She was relieved Piper didn’t press her to talk. They just quietly walked beside each other until Piper pushed open the door to what Reyna assumed to be her bedroom.

Reyna allowed herself to sink onto the bed. The mattress was much softer than the ones she was used to, but she found she didn’t mind all that much. Piper had been right—she was exhausted.

She willed herself to take steady breaths, trying to fill up the aching hollow in her chest with air. She needed to focus on something—anything—else.

She made herself look around, trying to blink back her tears.

The room was tidy-ish, in the way the bunks of certain members of the legion were when they’d learned there’d be a barrack inspection fifteen minutes before it happened and had hastily shoved all their belongings out of sight.

There wasn’t a ton of furniture. Aside from the bed she was currently sitting on, there was a bedside table, a small desk and a closet that someone (most likely Piper) had shoved the desk chair in front of in what Reyna assumed to be an attempt to keep the doors from bursting open and spilling whatever she’d stuffed in there all over the floor.

Despite its newly acquired semi-clean state, the room was anything but empty. As temporary of a home as it was, Piper had obviously put great effort into making it look lived-in.

Most of the floor was covered by a huge teal carpet. A stack of CDs took up most of the bedside table. The walls were decorated with a bunch of random trinkets: things that looked like cheap souvenirs and several posters for games and movies Reyna had only vaguely heard of, along with a bunch of photographs. Some were framed and clearly older, showing a younger Piper with a man that Reyna thought looked vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t pinpoint where she’d seen him before. There were several more pictures that were obviously more recent and looked like they’d been taken with a cheap instant print camera.

A shot of Piper and Annabeth at a campfire. Piper with a boy that looked around her age and a girl that was clearly a few years younger—her siblings, maybe? Piper and Leo pulling faces at each other. A series of pictures that had clearly been taken in quick succession: Piper sitting next to Jason who had an arm wrapped around her, followed by a blurry shot where a moving figure had squeezed into the space between their shoulders, followed by another shot where they'd moved apart to make space for Leo. Reyna’s eyes lingered on a picture of Jason with some sort of white goop in his hair and what appeared to be ketchup and salad bits sticking to the front of an orange camp shirt. He was smiling so widely that she almost didn’t recognize him. Reyna’s chest ached.

“Food fight,” Piper explained, unprompted. “We had to give Jason a haircut after because there were a bunch of marshmallow bits stuck in his hair that even my siblings couldn’t get out.” She snorted. “Leo’s gonna try to take all the credit when asked, but between me and you, that was entirely my fault.”

Reyna tried to fit her Jason into this picture—a Jason that was kind, yes, but also serious and reserved and always a little sad—and found that she could not. Her eyes welled up again. She tried her best to swallow down her tears.

Reyna hated herself for this. For looking at this picture of Jason, happy, and the way she couldn’t help resenting him just a little. For wanting to resent Piper and Leo for taking her best friend away from her.

Piper’s kind, easy smile made her sick with guilt.

“The idea of Jason participating in a food fight is strange to me,” Reyna admitted tersely. He wouldn’t have, had he still been her Jason. But it grew more and more obvious that the best friend she’d grown up alongside was gone—most likely for good. “A praetor of Camp Jupiter needs to lead by example.”

“If it helps: Leo and I had to bully him into it. He ended up having a great time, but he insisted on cleaning up afterwards because he’s a dork.” Piper laughed. “You should try it sometime.”

“I…” Reyna was going to tell her that this wasn’t going to happen, but her words tapered off when she caught a glimpse of herself in the porthole window. Her armor was a wreck, dented and showing signs of corrosion, barely hanging on by one very worn shoulder strap. The shirt beneath was torn and bloody, and her hair had come entirely loose from its usual neat braid and was completely disheveled. “Gods, I’m not exactly doing a great job leading by example either, am I? I look like a mess.”

“I mean, I think you look amazing,” Piper said immediately, then went red in the face, hastily clearing her throat. “For someone who flew across an ocean on a pegasus, I mean. That must have been exhausting, and somehow you don’t look any worse than I do when I roll out of bed in the morning.”

“I-” Reyna hesitated, then shook her head, scolding herself for being silly. “Do you have a brush I could borrow? I need to fix my hair.“

Perhaps it was a stupid request, but if there was nothing else she could control, she at least wanted to look like herself again, even if the fresh wound on her heart meant she’d never quite return to being the person she had been before this journey.

“I could get you some fresh clothes, too, if that would help.”

“That would be appreciated, but-” Reyna started, glancing suspiciously at Piper’s closet.

“My clothes wouldn’t fit you,” Piper said, a little too quickly. “I can steal something from Annabeth, though. Your armor looks rough, too, but Leo could probably fix it, if you’d let him.” She chewed her lip. “He feels horrible for what happened in New Rome, by the way. He was taken over by an Eidolon. He didn’t mean to-”

“I know he didn’t do it on purpose.” Reyna sighed. She’d grown up surrounded by ghosts. The concept of possession wasn’t exactly new to her.

Right after the attack on her home, Reyna had been furious. But even back then, a part of her had realized that what she’d felt was not entirely rational. She’d been looking for reasons to distrust and resent the people who had changed her best friend, and she’d foolishly allowed that to cloud her judgement. She should have known better. Should have figured that there was something more going on, and that no version of Jason, no matter how different he was, would have returned with people that he considered a genuine threat to their home.

But she’d let her temper—which she tried so hard to control, and which was so much like her father’s, sometimes, that it terrified her—get the better of her.

She knew better now.

“So you’ll let him fix your armor?” Piper asked, still looking unsure. “I know it seems like he never takes anything seriously, but Leo’s great at what he does. The Fates chose him for this quest for a reason.”

“I’ll take your word on that,” Reyna said, reaching for the one strap still holding her armor in place. Piper and Leo were not the enemy. They were Jason’s friends. Piper had been nothing but kind to her since she’d landed. She could at least try to trust her in return. “The armor hardly provides much protection in its current state, anyway.”

Reyna struggled to unbuckle the strap of her armor for almost half a minute because of how badly her hands were still shaking before Piper gently asked “may I?” and did it for her, hand lingering on Reyna’s shoulder just a little longer than necessary.

Before Reyna could think too hard about this—about the weird tingle the touch sent through her body—Piper moved back, awkwardly clearing her throat.

“Wow, your shirt is wrecked.” She looked Reyna over, expression quickly turning concerned. “Is that your blood?” she asked, staring at a dark splotch on the left side of the shirt that had previously been partially covered by the armor.

“I-” Reyna hesitated. “I’m not sure, actually. It might be.” She carefully put her hand on the spot and winced. “Yes, definitely mine.”

“Adrenaline is one hell of a drug.” Piper shook her head. “I’ll be right back.”

~~~

Reyna wasn’t sure how it happened, exactly. Wasn’t sure at which point she’d decided this was safe. But when Piper returned with a change of clothes and bandages, Reyna let her take a look at the injury—a large claw mark she had probably sustained in the same fight that had severely injured Scipio. This also explained why she hadn’t realized it was there. Ever since that gryphon attack, she’d been so preoccupied with worrying about her friend and trying to give him the strength to carry on that any concerns she might have had about her own health had been pushed into the background.

Piper gently disinfected the wound with a bit of nectar and bandaged it up, then offered her a cube of ambrosia that tasted so much like the brownies at the bakery that Jason had always dragged her to on breaks that she almost broke down.

Despite this, Reyna felt better, bandaged and wearing fresh clothes. Piper had even made sure that the shirt she borrowed was purple.

But that still left the matter of her hair. Reyna wanted her hair fixed. She needed to look like herself again, even if she wasn’t sure the person that had left on this quest still existed after everything she’d been through. She needed to take back at least a little control in order not to come apart entirely.

But her hands—the same hands that had held the knife that had ended Scipio’s life before the poison could overwhelm him—would not obey her. They just wouldn’t stop shaking.

Reyna couldn’t stop thinking about it—about the way Scipio had looked at her unflinchingly when she’d raised her pugio, nothing but trust in his eyes.

“He was grateful, you know,” Piper said quietly. “That it was you. That he managed to bring you here safely before he collapsed. I don’t speak horse the way Percy does, but love… I’ve never needed words to understand that.” Piper paused, then amended, “not for platonic love, anyway. Romantic love… yeah, I’m kind of garbage at that. Don’t tell my mom. She’d probably disown me.”

This time, Reyna realized Piper was trying to make her laugh. Or if not laugh… maybe at least spare her the discomfort of having to address how thoroughly the words had shaken her. She just moved on to a lighter topic while Reyna was still processing what she had said, not forcing her to share anything that felt too private to voice by letting the silence stretch between them.

Somehow that made it easier.

“His name was Scipio,” Reyna said quietly, trying to breathe past the lump in her throat.

“Like the Roman general?”

Reyna nodded. “He’s had that name since before I met him. But I nicknamed him Skippy, because his coat was the color of peanut butter.” She closed her eyes. “He was my friend. I don’t know if I ever told him that.”

“He knew. Animals are smart like that.”

Piper held out her hand for Reyna to squeeze. Reyna had no idea how she knew to do that, and maybe that should have scared her, but her fingers found Piper’s regardless. It felt nothing like it had with Jason. His hands were calloused from years of fighting, large enough to make Reyna’s seem small in comparison and always a little too cold. Piper’s hands were warm and soft with short, chipped nails, and they fit into Reyna’s own perfectly.

For a moment, they just sat there, a serene quiet settling over the scene. It felt almost like it had with Jason. It also felt so completely different from how it had been with him.

Reyna barely knew Piper. Being in her presence shouldn’t have been as comforting as it was.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?” Reyna finally asked, breaking the silence. “You barely even know me.”

“Because it seemed like you could use a friend,” Piper said, like it was that simple. “Besides, you flew across the Atlantic Ocean by yourself, despite the dangers, based on nothing more than a note. You’re brave, and stubborn, and you want to do the right thing, even when the odds are stacked against you to a ridiculous degree. Kindness is the least of what you deserve in return.”

“I…” Reyna swallowed. “Would you do something else for me, if I asked?” she continued before she could talk herself out of it,

“Anything,” Piper said immediately.

There was no magic in her words, but the sincerity in voice made Reyna’s head spin.

“Could you braid my hair?” Reyna hadn’t asked this of anyone in years. Not since Circe. Not since Hylla. But proud as she was, she couldn’t do this by herself. She held up her free hand, which was still trembling. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Usually I’m not…” She trailed off.

“I can’t promise I won’t be awful at it, but I can try,” Piper told her with a smile. “But if you get to make fun of my disastrous hair braiding skills, I’ll need you to do something for me, too, okay?”

Reyna froze. Her hand in Piper’s suddenly felt clammy.

This was it, she supposed. She’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. But she’d maneuvered herself into a corner—foolishly allowed herself to let her guard down with someone she barely knew. She’d felt safe. And now she was trapped.

“What is it?”

“I know it won’t be easy, but try to be gentle with yourself, okay?” Piper said, squeezing her hand before she slowly untangled their fingers and reached for the brush that she’d placed down on her nightstand earlier.

“I- what?”

“Our reactions to death aren’t rational because love isn’t rational. You feel a lot right now because you love your friend, and suddenly all that love has nowhere left to go.” The brush went through Reyna’s hair in gentle strokes. “It’s okay to let yourself grieve that.”

Reyna wasn’t sure what sort of request she had expected, but this one was both kinder and more impossible than anything else Piper could have asked of her.

“I can’t promise you that. It’s not something I’ve ever been good at,” Reyna admitted. A part of her chided herself for telling Piper this, but the rest of her found it was likely that this was obvious—if not to everyone, then at the very least to Piper.

“I don’t need a promise. Just tell me you’ll try.”

More brush strokes. Piper’s hand in her hair, holding it up as she worked on section after messy section in a rhythm that was almost meditative. It stung less than Reyna had expected.

“I will.”

“Good.” More brush strokes. A moment of silence. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but… what was your favorite thing to do with Scipio?”

Reyna didn't even have to think about it.

“Sunrise patrols. They weren’t a necessity—there are guards on watch at all times, making sure the area is secure—but I usually wake up early, and Scipio liked getting to stretch his wings first thing in the morning.” Reyna wiped at her face. “New Rome never truly sleeps, but there is something so peaceful about the city at night, when most of the lights have been dimmed because the demigods who live there have returned to their families. I liked being a part of that. I liked knowing we were keeping people safe. No place has ever made me feel safe and welcome like Camp Jupiter has. New Rome is the first place where I truly felt like I belonged. Seeing another sunrise with my friend by my side, feeling the wind in my hair and the sun on my face, knowing we were making sure that people like me had a future and families to go home to… that meant something.” Reyna sniffled.

“That’s beautiful.” Piper’s voice was warm.

“Scipio always got super grumpy when I missed those early morning flights. Sometimes me and Jason were sorting out praetor duties late into the night and I dozed off and didn’t wake until the sun was already up. Always took at least one apple and two sugar cubes for him to forgive me.” Reyna realized that now that she had started to talk about Scipio, she found it hard to stop. Her eyes were welling up with tears once more, and she couldn’t find it in herself to swallow them down again. It had been years since she’d last allowed herself to cry like this, especially in front of another person. Weirdly, despite how much she’d dreaded it, Reyna felt nothing but relief. “Didn’t really work for Jason, though.”

“You tried to apologize to Jason with sugar cubes and apples?” Piper asked, clearly struggling not to laugh.

“What?” The thought was so ridiculous that Reyna almost smiled. “No, I meant Scipio wouldn’t accept them as apologies from Jason. Those two never got along.”

“That… makes a lot more sense.” Piper snorted. “Also doesn't really surprise me. The pegasi at Camp Half-Blood aren’t very fond of him, either. Percy says it might be because they’re descendants of Poseidon and he’s a child of Jupiter.”

“That probably doesn’t help, but Jason is also just not great with pegasi. He tried to pet Scipio’s wings when they met. Immediately got himself bitten, and Scipio never forgave him.” Reyna shook her head. “You don’t touch the wings of a pegasus. You just don’t. The wings are super sensitive, so it causes them stress and can even hurt them. It also completely messes up their grooming, which they take very seriously.”

“Really? And they’re still okay with taking people on their backs, despite how close they get to their wings in the process?”

“Only if they trust you or have been trained for it. And not being careful of their wings when they’ve allowed you to sit on their back is the fastest way to get yourself thrown off.”

“Was that also an experience Jason made?” Piper asked, chuckling. She had apparently finished brushing Reyna’s hair, because Reyna could feel her sectioning it off into parts with both hands now. “Also, fair warning, this might take a minute. I’ll probably have to start over a few times. It’s been ages since I last braided my own hair.”

“That’s alright. I don’t mind.” Sitting with Piper and telling her about her friend, Reyna felt strangely at peace. Talking about Scipio made her heart ache, but it also made warmth spread throughout her chest. Her breaths came a little easier. Her hands didn't tremble quite as badly. Besides, Piper was a great listener. “To answer your question, Scipio would never have allowed Jason on his back, especially not once he learned Jason could fly himself. The only exception was when Jason got himself injured or knocked out, and even then it was begrudgingly. But when we were scouting out Mount Othrys at the end of the Titan war, we figured it would be good to have an additional set of eyes, so we asked Gwendolyn. Her and Jason were centurions of the Fifth Cohort at the time, but more importantly, she’s a legacy of Apollo with the eyesight and aim required for archery. Not quite so good at figuring out how to fly a pegasus, as it turned out.”

“Oh no.” Piper laughed. “Was she okay?”

“More or less. We ended up taking one of the other centurions along and I made sure to instruct them properly before they got onto Scipio’s back. Scipio forgave Gwen more easily than he did Jason, but Gwen also has a very sunny personality, so it’s hard to stay mad at her.”

“Well, if she’s a legacy of Apollo, I guess that makes sense,” Piper joked. Reyna groaned. “Sorry, I’ve clearly been spending too much time with Leo. His terrible sense of humor is starting to rub off on me.”

“You two seem close. Have you been friends for a long time?” Reyna had never really wondered about that before.

“We’re actually not sure.” Piper sighed. “We went to school together for a few months before Jason showed up, but when he did, the Mist really messed with our heads. Convinced us we’d been friends with Jason for months, and that I’d been dating him for a few weeks. It was really confusing, finding out those memories had been made up on the spot. I’m still dealing with the aftermath.”

“I had no idea. I knew Jason and Percy had suffered memory loss, but it didn’t even occur to me that you and Leo might have been affected.” Reyna wrung her hands. She felt terrible that Piper had had to go through this. She felt worse about the fact that she almost found it comforting—to talk to someone who shared an experience Reyna had convinced herself no one else would ever understand. “How did you… deal with it? With having a best friend that you shared no memories with?”

Piper’s hands were still in Reyna’s hair, undoing another attempt at a braid she apparently wasn’t satisfied with.

“It was weird. And it hurt, finding out we’ll probably never get those first few months of our friendship back. But Leo is still my best friend. A few messed up memories aren’t going to change that. Besides, we’ve made a bunch of new memories since.” Reyna could feel Piper starting the braiding process over from the roots of her hair, gently pressing the topmost part of the new braid against her scalp. It felt nice. “Memory loss or not, Jason still cares about you. He misses you. I know he does.”

“Not in the way I spent years wishing he would,” Reyna said quietly. “But I knew that he would never see me like that long before Juno sent him on this quest.”

Venus’ prophecy rang in her ears, like it so often had around Jason. You will not find love where you wish or where you hope. No demigod shall heal your heart.

Piper shrugged. “Honestly, that’s his loss.”

Reyna almost choked. “I’m sorry?”

“I mean, have you seen yourself? You’re gorgeous and brilliant and a great leader. Anyone would be lucky to have a girlfriend like you.” Piper cleared her throat. “Anyway, I just. I think you’re really awesome.” She sounded a little embarrassed.

“I… thank you.” Reyna was glad Piper was still working on her braid, then. She wasn’t sure she could have met her eyes at that moment. “And I owe you an apology. I’ve seen how charmspeak can affect people, and it made me wary of you—unfairly so. We’re lucky to have you on our side. I’m grateful that I met you.”

“Thank you.” Piper’s voice sounded a little shaky as she spoke. “Also, I’m done with your braid,” she said, right as Reyna felt the hair tie pulling taut. “It’s not perfect, but I’m not sure it’ll get much better than this, honestly.”

She handed Reyna a hand mirror, explaining that she’d also stolen that one from Annabeth. Then she moved away from where she’d been sitting, scooting over until her and Reyna were sitting side by side at the edge of the bed

The girl who stared back at Reyna looked strange. She was obviously exhausted. Her face was blotchy and her eyes were red-rimmed from crying. But she did look more like herself now than the reflection she’d caught in Piper’s window earlier. Her posture was a little straighter, she wasn’t wearing a wrecked shirt that was covered in blood, and her hair was no longer a disheveled mess. The braid wasn’t nearly as tight and neat as Reyna would have made it, but it still made her look and feel more like herself.

“You did well.” Reyna smiled. The only thing that looked truly out of place was the very colorful hair tie that definitely wasn’t the one she had been wearing when she’d gotten here. “But I don’t think that’s my hair tie.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that.” Piper rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. “The one you had looked like it might snap in the next gust of wind, so I figured I’d use one of mine. I use these more as accessories than I do for my hair, so all the ones I have are pretty colorful. If it bothers you, I can go see if Annabeth-”

Reyna waved her off. “No, that’s alright. I don’t mind. Besides, I think you’ve spent quite enough time in other people’s closets for my sake.”

For some reason, that made Piper burst out laughing. “Oh, you have no idea.”

“I’m not sure I understand the joke.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Piper waved her off, though she still looked amused. She looked Reyna over again. “Different question: I’m scared to even ask, but when was the last time you slept?”

“I’m… actually not sure.” Reyna and Scipio had taken a brief break in Split after finding Jason’s message at Diocletian’s Palace, but it wasn’t like they’d been able to take a lot of rest stops while flying across the Atlantic, and with Scipio unable to rest, Reyna hadn’t felt like it was fair for her to sleep. Besides, she’d had to be on guard for monsters.

Once they’d crossed into the Mare Nostrum, the monster attacks had just gotten worse. Besides, they’d had a trireme to catch up with. The more breaks they took, the more likely it had been they wouldn’t make it in time.

“That’s not an acceptable answer,” Piper told her, an eyebrow raised. “You should sleep for a bit. Give the ambrosia some time to work its magic.”

“We don’t have time for me to-” Reyna started to protest, but Piper didn’t let her finish.

“Nope. You look like you’re about to fall over, all of us just got out of battle, and Percy and Annabeth just came back from Tartarus. We’re allowed a few hours of downtime before the next war council,” she told her in a voice that was decisive and commanding enough to rival any decent praetor, even without charmspeak. “You can have my bed. Unlike you, I’ve slept a few hours ago, so I’m still good at the moment.”

Reyna opened her mouth to protest again, but Piper just shook her head and grinned at her. “Don’t try to fight me on this. I’ve wrestled Leo out of his workshop before. I can and will take drastic measures.”

She pulled her blanket up over Reyna’s knees.

“Fine.” Reyna figured she might as well resign herself to her fate at that point and let herself sink down onto the mattress. The exhaustion that had been getting worse since she’d landed fully overtook her the moment her back hit the mattress. Within seconds, her eyes were drooping.

“The world will be much easier to save when you’re not on the verge of passing out, trust me,” Piper told her, pulling the soft blanket up all the way. “You’ve been fighting your way here for days. You can rest now.”

Weirdly, Reyna believed her. No charmspeak required.

———

Some notes:

-Piper braiding Reyna’s hair has been sitting around in my idea folder for ages. I assumed it’d be a solid 2-3k word count when I started writing it. As you can tell, that, uh, did not work out for me. I hope that’s to the fic’s benefit, though.

-This was my first time writing any fic majorly featuring Reyna, and it was also my first time doing a Reyna POV, both of which is terrifying. New character voices scare me. I’ve started and gotten stuck on a whole number on Pipeyna fics throughout the last year specifically because I got nervous about writing Reyna. Before this fic, I had written a few snippets in her POV that I really liked, but never a whole fic, so this was a pretty major exercise in pushing myself out of my comfort zone and finally actually doing the thing. I did end up having a lot of fun with this, and I hope I ended up doing okay.

-Canon never really explores in-depth what exactly changed between Piper and Reyna for Reyna to go from being wary of Piper to suddenly trust her pretty much blindly at the end of BoO (which isn’t a surprise, honestly, a lot of stuff gets hand-waved in HoO), and this universe isn’t quite canon, but I thought I’d give explaining it a shot anyway.

-Since I didn’t want to go too far out of my comfort zone, there’s a little extra bit of content featuring Leo and Piper being goofs. Specifically: I mentioned in Lean on Me (which, fun fact! Was my first ever pjo fic and was posted almost exactly a year ago today. Isn’t that wild?) that Piper teasing Leo about his crush on Jason was payback for him giving her shit about Reyna, so while I was at it, I couldn’t resist actually writing out Leo giving Piper shit about Reyna. That scene was very fun to do, but since it’s a different POV and a very different tone from the first chapter, it made sense to split them. As mentioned above, I’ll probably post that part tomorrow.

Anyway, thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Comments super appreciated!

#Pipeyna #piper x reyna #reyna avila ramirez arellano #reyna x piper #reyna pjo #Scipio pjo #Piper McLean #piper pjo #jason grace #jason and Reyna #heroes of olympus #hoo #scipio #my writing #fate and other technicalities

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malfiora · 9 months ago

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I'm rewriting Jason's resurrection and reconciliation with the fam for my own sanity:

Jason dies tragically and horrifically at age 15

A year later, Superboy Prime punches through universes, collapsing two realities onto each other: one where Jason dies, the other in which he survives. Jason comes back to life but is semi-conscious. Talia finds him and takes him to the League

Jason regains full consciousness after a dip in the Lazarus. For two years, Jason trains and slowly regains his memories. Once he's 18, he decides to return to Gotham, despite Talia's wishes

Quickly becomes clear that Gotham hasn't changed much, which disappoints Jason. He decides to put his League training to use and control crime as a harm reduction tactic, and he goes back and forth on contacting Bruce, especially after he hears rumors of a new Robin

Joker pops up with a new scheme, and this is the last straw. Jason concocts a plan to kidnap and finally kill Joker and confront Batman about all the ways he's failed him and Gotham. When Batman refuses to kill Joker, Jason feints like he's going to kill Tim to "save him the trouble" since Batman clearly cares so little for his sidekicks. ("Hey, kid, at least I'll make it painless.") This gets a reaction from Batman, who incapacitates Jason and rescues Robin. Jason retreats to lick his wounds and reconsider everything

Jason takes time to ruminate on all of this. He's still hurt that his death meant nothing in the grand scheme of things but thinks about Batman's reaction to Tim being in danger and has to wonder if that's how he acted when Jason was in that warehouse

Out of morbid curiosity and a little bit of fanboyishness, Tim monitors Jason. Jason knows this and eventually confronts him. He feels bad for scaring Tim but has to maintain his edge so he tries not to be too scary. At some point, Tim speaks his mind and tells Jason that he has no idea what things were like while he was dead. "Batman was a mess, he almost killed people. That's why I became Robin. I had to put him back together, so you don't get to act like you know everything that happened the past 3 years because you been back a couple months." Jason takes this in. They part ways. (Jason: "Don't die." Tim: "Don't change.")

The Chemo incident happens. Jason rushes to Blüdhaven to make sure Dick is alive and okay, thus revealing he's alive to the Titans. After the dust settles, he and Dick talk privately so that Dick can react properly. (Dick: "No, Batman didn't tell me." Jason: "Yeah, he has a habit of doing that.")

Jason gets to ask if Tim's claim of Batman being a mess is founded. It is. He asks Dick if it's worth doing things the same way. "It is." That doesn't help.

Eventually Jason and Bruce have their equivalent of a heart to heart. Basically they both go, "I love you even if I think you're wrong."

Jason forms the Outlaws, but the moment he gets the distress call from the fam, he comes rushing back to help. He's offended that Bruce is surprised (Tim is hopeful, Dick isn't remotely shocked)

When Dick "dies," Jay comes back to take his place as Eldest Son. He sticks around through the end of the Robin War

Other important events that definitely happen but just don't fit neatly into a timeline:

Barbara and Jason team up on a mission shortly after Bruce tells Barbara that Jason is back. She's happy and immediately falls into big sister/mother hen mode and chides him for not seeing her sooner and makes him promise to stop by the clocktower regardless of whatever is happening between him and Bruce. She promises to help him upgrade his tech if he does. (Barbara has always been more lenient with killers and believes wholly in second chances.)

Cass stops Jason from killing someone who "deserves it," resulting in them fighting. Cass is better trained but she refuses to kill Jason, who won't stop. Eventually, they call a ceasefire and talk a bit. "All life has meaning," Cass says. Jason scoffs. "Even the Joker's?" "All life," she insists. Jason quietly disagrees but he respects Cass's determination. This starts a back and forth of him testing her anytime they're grouped together. ("Even this lowlife, Cass?" or "She's worth your own life?" or "They wouldn't spare you, why bother?") Each and every time she sticks to her principles.

Jay and Steph grab food together after a patrol one night and bond over being the family outcasts (i.e. the ones Bruce doesn't implicitly trust). Jason vows to make Steph his Robin if he ever becomes Batman. She laughs but is secretly touched

***I can never decide what to do with Damian. On the one hand, it's hilarious if Jason knows about him and keeps quiet about it. On the other, I don't see why Jason wouldn't tell Bruce about Damian's existence. Maybe once he's on speaking terms with Bruce again, he does tell him about Damian, which then prompts Jason to encourage Talia to let Damian meet Bruce. This is accelerated by Talia discovering Ra's' plan for Damian and wanting to get Damian away from the League

#jason todd #batfam headcanons #batfam #revisionist backstory #red hood #this is the framework I'll be using in fics from now on

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bluebellhairpin · 2 years ago

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Thou So Long Hast Mourn'd

Bruce Wayne X Batmom!Reader

Summary: After Jason's passing, your grief and anger combined causes you to leave Gotham - swearing only to return when you have a perfect chance to kill the Joker for what he did to your son. (Part 2 to 'Hell Hath No Fury')

Warnings: Loss and Grief (Mentions of a funeral and repeated mentions of Jason dying. We miss Mumma's Boy Jay a lot :( ). Bad coping mechanisms all round. Clark Kent acts as a marital buffer. (Reader is fem coded; has she/her pronouns; is referred to as ‘wife’ multiple times. Has the hero name of 'Valentine'.)

Listening to: 'Skyfall' By Adele - "I know I'd never be me without the security of your loving arms keeping me from harm."

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Yes, thou shalt know, spite of thy past Distress, -

Jason’s funeral was attended by a very small number of people. Yourself, Bruce, Dick, and Alfred all front and center.

For days, weeks, the media pestered asking question after question. “A tragic accident.” Commissioner Gordon would reply. It became you answer too, like a well-rehearsed prayer.

A tragic accident. Tragic. Accidental tragedy. Accident.

Except it was no such accident. Someone killed Jason. A man, who still walked free, murdered your son.

Even now, a month after you buried the child, as you sat listening to rain pat against the window panes in Wayne Manor, you remembered what you’d told Bruce the night he brought Jason home for the last time.

“I’m going to kill him.” you said. “I’m going to kill the Joker.” You told Bruce you’d do what you’d vowed to never do again. You promised yourself to avenge your son, to make sure no one else would ever lose a child to that monster ever again.

Ever since that night you’d felt a wedge slide between you and Bruce. Dick, only sixteen and having lost the closest thing he had to a brother was feeling it - you could see it on his face, and they way he held his shoulders at dinner. How you were feeling, how little Bruce was doing about it - none of it was doing Dick any good.

Aside from the anger, you didn’t know how you were feeling. You never thought you’d ever be a mother - you had no idea what to do to help anyone. So you left.

Bruce was out on patrol - he dove into Batman head first, a bitter feeling in your stomach had you thinking he was compensating. Dick was out - gymnastic practice, which Alfred was in charge of tonight. You were left alone in a huge house, and you couldn’t stand to stay there any longer.

A small bag was packed with basics - clothes, cash, a few weapons from the cave, and a single family photo taken while on vacation just that past summer (stolen from its frame and folded into a jacket pocket close to your heart). As you walked past the main living space, you stopped, and looked up towards the item hanging above the fireplace.

The sword - Excalibur - a god-given gift to humankind to exact true justice, now resting as a collectors antique catching dust. You knew if you took it that you would be able to do what you needed to. During your time using it there was no greater pull than to execute Joker - yet something always stopped you.

You knew it was Bruce.

Even already, your own guilt over what you meant to do wouldn’t let you take it with you.

Naturally, on that night, Alfred brought Dick was home first. It was already nine thirty, and while Dick would be up for a long while, he knew the boy wasn’t sleeping proper anymore.

Alfred sent him up to his room anyway, reassuringly with a hand on his shoulder, telling him to go try and get some rest.

But Alfred knew something wasn’t right in the Manor the moment he stepped inside. It was too quiet. Like it had been empty as long as they’d been away - even though he knew full well you should’ve been there to keep the house alive.

Although not trained, the butler had a sixth sense for a lot of things - he was a natural at whatever he sent his mind to (in his youth it was acting, and hence so seeing through lies and reading rooms (for improvisation, obviously) went with it). He set out to find you. Looked in all the usual places, and the unusual ones, in the big rooms and the small ones.

In the last week or so you’d taken to spending time sitting in the walk-in-fridge. He worried about you a lot. While Dick still had school and his friends, and Bruce threw himself into Batman, you only really had yourself. It wasn’t healthy.

But no matter how much he looked, or where he looked, you were nowhere to be found - not in the house, nor in the grounds. You’d said nothing about going out when he left, he would’ve remembered. In a last ditch effort to find you, he looked in one last place.

But you hadn’t been in the Batcave since Jason came home.

It was there, as he walked down a set of stairs, that he noticed a piece of paper haphazardly taped to one of the center computer monitors.

He grabbed it, and flipped it open, reading quietly to himself the words inside, scrawled in your handwriting.

‘Bruce, Don’t look, you know I won’t let you find me. I’m going to do something you will hate me for - probably forever. I can’t keep living like this knowing Jason’s killer is out there killing more mother’s sons. Take care of Dickie. Don’t take Alfred for granted.’

The older man found himself sinking into the chair beside him.

He had a hunch this was coming - he wasn’t in the cave the night Bruce brought Jason home, instead at the time he was upstairs taking a call from an excited Dick who was recalling his day spent doing a treasure hunt around Blüdhaven for a school camp trip that lasted the whole week. Alfred had no idea how you first reacted - he didn’t know how Bruce reacted to your reaction.

He knew it wasn’t good. Especially since in your note you didn’t even say goodbye to your husband.

You’d been hiding in a place you knew Bruce wouldn’t ever look - he always hated visiting Metropolis, the city was too bright.

You knew no one there would snitch on you - most didn’t even recognize you, and the one person who did, conveniently the man who was the closest thing Bruce had to a best friend, wouldn’t ever snitch on you. Not for this.

‘I needed a break,’ you’d lied, ‘Couldn’t handle being in Gotham after…’ You never finished, and you knew Clark could see through a lie like glass - but the grief he could see. He could also see the anger simmering underneath. He never called you out for it though.

You’d been there a while, waiting, watching Gotham from a distance Bruce wouldn’t see you from. You kept tabs mostly on Batman - although interviews with Bruce having to explain where his wife went were entertaining (in a sick, satisfying way). Sometimes you were sick, others you were out of town, most times you ‘weren’t feeling up to it’ - the latter two would be closest to the truth, not that he’d know that.

You often looked fondly at whatever information came though about Dick - he took out the gymnastics first place for his age bracket in the Gotham state. The picture made your heart ache - his smile was wide and toothy, but even though your printed newspaper you could tell it wasn’t reaching his eyes.

Who you were watching most, though, was the Joker. You combed through old reports and new ones. Even called up Harley Quinn a few times, just to get a perspective on him from someone who was - at one point - much closer to him. She asked you why you wanted to know.

“I need to know.”

“O-kay. And where exactly have you been Val?” she’d said, voice crackling down the hotel landline, “You ain’t locking yourself up in that Mansion are ya?”

“No. I’m not in Gotham right now.”

“So what’s even the Joker to ya if you ain’t even here huh?”

“When I come back,” you said, “I’m going to kill him.”

You became a Joker expert in almost one night.

You got a late night visitor less than a week after that phone call. Clad in red and blue, with a gaudy cape and that stupid ringlet you and Bruce would always bitch about on late nights under bed covers.

You were a little happy to see Clark - you actually had nothing against him, it was all just in jest (or solidarity because Bruce was your husband). He was let in pretty quickly. Mostly to avoid questions from the nosey couple who’d been staying in the room next to yours for the past three days.

He stood around awkwardly while you watched him from the seat next to the room’s microwave, posture screaming Clark Kent, journalist, even though he looked like Superman, world-know superhero.

“I’m, uh -” he started after you stared at him hard, wordlessly willing him to speak, “- I’m worried. I think you should go back to Gotham soon. To Bruce, specifically.”

“And why’s that?” He looked at you like you’d just said you had Kryptonite in your pocket.

“Because you’re in trouble.”

“I’m here in Metropolis, I’m with you right now, I couldn’t be in less trouble if I tried.”

“You know I have super hearing.” he said sheepishly. It was like he was telling his Ma he ran over her peonies with a bicycle. You put two and two together quickly though.

“You’ve been spying on me?”

“For me!” He said, stepping back with his palms towards the sky, “I feel better about not telling Bruce if I know what’s going on with you.”

“And so what part of your spying brought you here tonight?” Both your arms and legs crossed, you could tell from his face he didn't mean for you to get so offensive so quickly.

“You were talking to Harley Quinn?”

“Oh that,” you scoffed with a wave of your hand, “Even Bruce does that. She’s not so bad. Taught me how to roller-skate you know.”

“About the Joker?”

“That happens often when my husband is being a pain in my ass,” you said, “Reminds me he could be much, much worse.” Clark motioned his head - ‘fair’, but then he returned serious once more. This time it wasn’t a question.

“You said you were going to kill him.”

You knew he couldn’t read your mind, but he could hear how your heartbeat picked up. He had to know you knew you’d been caught. He sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting for your answer in the most approachable way he knew in that moment.

“I’d be doing everyone a favor.”

“Bruce - I don’t know what he’d do. He could hate you.”

“I’m sure he hates me right now anyway.”

“You can’t believe that,” Clark said, looking up at you with blue eyes that almost looked like Bruce’s. “You don’t really believe he hates you right now?” You took a great interest in the patterned carpet. Clark said your name, and you reluctantly looked back at him.

“He misses you.”

“I miss my son.” You bit back at him bitterly. His face remained hard. This was suddenly no longer Clark. You were talking to Superman now.

“I’m not sure how to say this kindly,” Clark said with a firm voice, “But you’re so focused on the child you lost that you’re abandoning the one that’s still here. Bruce misses you, but Dick misses you even more. He doesn’t need to lose another Mom.”

His stare was hard, stubborn - he wasn’t going to let up. Your stare was hard too - sour and angry, not because you didn't believe him, but because you knew how right he was.

“I think you can leave now.”

Two weeks later, after a late night grocery run that consisted mostly of chicken noodle cups and instant coffee, you found a lump of black sitting in the dark with its back against the door of your room.

Clark told Bruce.

He didn’t seem to notice your approach, but once you stood toe-to-toe with his polished Oxford shoes, you kicked his leg.

“Get up.”

His head of messy hair lifted, and when his brain fully processed you - his wife, finally! - standing before him, he almost jumped to his feet. Uncharacteristic of him outside his prior - and now ditched - playboy persona.

He breathed your name, stepping forward with hands outstretched as if to hug you. You took a step back. Clark, apparently hadn’t told him everything - if he had, he was taking it very, very well.

“Where’s Dick?”

“With Alfred,” he said, hands falling to his sides again after you hummed in acknowledgment. You both stood in silence for a while, before you gestured to a door with a full hand. He got the hint, stepping away, then taking the bags away from one hand as you fumbled for your keys.

The quiet continued as you let yourselves in, you sat the shopping on the bench, and he made himself at home at the table near the door. You sat back down in the microwave chair, the furthest place from him you could be while still staying in the room.

“Been keeping busy, Bruce?” you asked, he turned to fully face you in his seat.

“Not really,” he said, “I’ve been looking for you. Never thought you’d be here,” You almost smiled, thinking about how right you were for coming here. Almost.

“Heard you went to Saudi Arabia while I’ve been gone.”

“It was nothing. Really.”

“You couldn’t have been looking too hard if you were able to take a ‘nothing, really’ trip to the Arabian Mountains.”

“I’m not here to fight with you,” Bruce said, resting a palm on his knee, “I’m here to ask you to come home. We all miss you.” his last words came out very quietly. “It’s been months. Nothings going to get easier if you stay away.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” you said with a soft scoff, “He who literally spent every single night after Jason died away from home. He who spends every moment he can down in a dark damp cave rather than with his family - I don’t think you get to tell me where I should be.” You felt tears well in your eyes - hot and fat if they fell, but you willed yourself not to let them. Bruce’s shoulders softened, and he stood and walked closer slowly, coming to kneel before you with his fingers just touching yours.

“We both haven’t been doing well, have we?” his head shook and his voice was barely audible. It was like he was speaking to himself. His admission - finally, his own pride and stubbornness aside, and it made yours disappear like dust in the wind.

“You need to see my bathroom,” you said. His head cocked, a sly smile twitched onto his lips.

“Oh?” he said, “And what might I find there?” But you weren’t smiling. You were trying to be honest.

“Just go look.” you said, turning away from him, bringing your hand away. Telling him with your actions that you weren’t going to be talking until he did.

He stood, opening the bathroom door behind you and flicking on the light. You could feel how still he was. Taking in the room, and what was inside it.

All across the mirror and walls were taped up newspaper clippings and photos and articles printed off from the library, old and new, a few of him - Batman - but most of the Joker. Beside the toilet was a case - one he knew would hold parts of a rifle (parts he'd seen you pull apart and put back together in a minute flat) - and across the sink were knives and gun magazines.

Bruce stepped off the carpet and onto the tile. There was a little list in the center of the mirror, written in red and with the last line underlined.

‘Kill the Joker’.

When he returned to you, he was holding the list in one hand.

“When were you planning on doing this?” he asked. You weren’t able to meet his eyes when you answered.

“Whenever I go back to Gotham.” His body went rigid beside you. Audibly, he let out a breath.

“I’ve thought about it too. Just getting rid of him like that.” he admitted, voice quiet and with a rough edge, “But I know it won’t help. It won’t bring him back.”

“This isn’t about bringing him back. If I knew it could bring Jason back I’d have done it weeks ago.” You looked up at Bruce as you spoke, watching as his face crinkled in disbelief.

“You’re so serious about this.”

“How could you still think I’m not serious?” you said, standing to help convince yourself you weren’t as unsure as you felt. “I will do it. A time will come when that monster dies - wherever it is I will be standing by watching.”

He watched you. Analyzing your face and the way your eyes moved. His face set like stone, hard and sure and you knew he was much more upset now having found out than what he was when you were missing. He took a step back.

Bruce was moving towards the door.

“I won’t stop you. I couldn’t bear to.” he turned, hand on the door handle, “But Batman still will.”

As far as you knew, you’d made it back into Gotham City undetected.

You knew the route’s Bruce - no - Batman, took while out on patrol. You knew the surveillance he constantly would check. You knew because for years you’d helped him do it all.

Thankfully, you had a not-so-little little helper - Joker assassination aside, Harley was more than happy to put you up for a while. After you’d killed Joker you’d planned to turn tail and leave again - maybe hide someplace in Australia where no one barely goes. It wasn’t like you had to put up with her long anyway.

Harley was great, but you’d have to love her a whole lot to live with her longer than a week. But you weren’t planning to stay that long.

You’d tracked Joker to an apartment complex near Arkham - you knew he wouldn’t stay there forever, so you needed to act fast.

Your weapons of choice were clean and ready to go, your escape routes A through to D were memorized, a hood and bandana combo were acquired to hide your identity long enough for no one around to know it was you. By all means and definitions you were ready to go.

You left Harley’s place wordlessly. You were sure she didn’t even know you left.

A cloak and the shadows of night concealed you from most passersby. Slowly, slowly you stalked towards where you knew the Joker to be. When you climbed the fire escape to find your vantage point, you almost didn’t make it all the way there because you saw Him.

Sitting, lounging. Acting like there was not a single thing in the world to worry about. It made you so angry you could scream, claw your eyes out, you could do so many things all because that man couldn’t care less about your son dying.

In fact, you didn’t make it to your original vantage point.

You settled right there, three levels lower than planned, and took the rifle off your shoulder. Clipping on the scope, twisting the silencer on, packing the magazine in. Settled your body into a comfortable position, then raised the gun to look at your target through the scope.

With greasy green hair and yellow teeth, you watched him smile through the crosshairs. With a sneer you flicked the safety off. You were ready to take the shot.

A flash of red, green and yellow came in front of the Joker. You frowned, confused. Pulling the scope back you looked again with a wider range and saw something that made your heart drop. Someone was tied up and presented to him like a present.

The Joker had Robin.

Your Robin. Your son. Your Dick Grayson.

Suddenly this was more than just a chance to avenge Jason. A switch flicked inside your heart. This wasn’t a chance to avenge Jason anymore; this was you, saving the son you had left. This was you not giving that monster the chance to keep you in black.

The lethal rifle was ditched right there on the fire escape, not caring if a lowlife found it before you could return. The knives you’d stashed - ‘just in case’ - were now your swords. Their piercing blades becoming the only thing shielding those who stood in your way a feral beating from bare fists.

No one was standing in your way of taking Dick home safely.

Your veins pumped white hot, you saw red all over. This was not going to happen a second time. It wasn’t ever going to happen again.

A goon at the door stood in your way, he was met with a knee to the crotch and a wound to his shoulder to keep him down. More on the stairs were thrown over bannisters. One had his head smashed into the doorway of the Joker’s apartment. Another was given a hard elbow to the back of his neck.

You weren’t aiming to kill - you were aiming to get them out of your way, and keep them that way.

When you reached the room which window you saw through, there were only four other people aside from yourself, your son, and that murdering bastard. They all stayed quiet, goons waiting on a call to action from their boss. You missed the way Dick’s eyes widened as he realised his Mom was here. You were busy staring down the Joker, trying to make him feel just how much pure hate you had for him without a single word.

“Give me Robin,” you said, voice low, venomous. Dangerous.

“Well if you want him so bad, and since you asked nicely,” His smile spread wide and uncanny. “Come and get him.”

So you did.

Like a blur of back and blue, you had all four men either out cold or groaning on the floor. The Joker himself was under your kneeling form with his teeth now stained red and an eyes swollen shut.

“Listen well because I’ll only say it once.” You said, your hand a rough fist in his hair to make sure he looked into your eyes and saw exactly how much of a threat your promise was.

“I spared your life today. I will never do it again. I am not the Batman. The next time I find you trying to pull something with one of my Robin’s and you see me coming you'd better run the other way because I will kill you.”

After untying Dick, retrieving your abandoned gear, and throwing Joker into Arkham, you reconvened with Dick on a nearby rooftop.

You barely stood upright on two legs before he barreled into you, arms thrown around your waist with his face squished right into your collarbone. He’d grown taller in the time you’d been away. You felt tears fall as your arms wrapped around him in kind.

“I’ve missed you Mom.” he mumbled into your shirt, “Please don’t go away again. Please.”

A hand raised to the back of his head as you pressed your covered nose into his hair. You took a deep breath with your eyes closed, then opened them, peeling you both apart just enough to take in each other's faces. Even with his mask on you could see how much he was pleading with you to stay.

You brushed his hair away from his face - he needed a haircut soon.

You wanted to stay, you never wanted to leave him ever again, not after tonight. But would Bruce let you?

Out the corner of your eye you saw a black drop fall onto the rooftop a little ways off. Batman. He stood, tall and intimidating. In that moment you had half a mind to take a step back even though he made no move closer to you.

Instead you just held Dick a little tighter.

Bruce's hand reached out to you, palm open, outstretched, and empty. Waiting for you to take it.

“I think we can go home now.” he said, “We all can.” Like that, Batman disappeared. Bruce was here. You guessed he bluffed - when it came to you Bruce was always there.

Things were not going to go back to normal. They weren’t for a while. But the best thing you could do was stay together, all together. As a family.

Nothing was going to push that away from you again.

- And all those Ills which thou so long hast mourn'd;

#the adventures of batmom #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x batmom #batman x reader #jason todd x batmom #dick grayson x batmom

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msfcatlover · 2 years ago

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Thinkin’ about the TMA/Batfam AU again. Thinkin’ about Jason’s identity reveal. Thinkin’ about how everyone must’ve felt. I mean…

It’s Jason.

Their Jason.

Sweet, happy, righteous, human Jason. The boy who kept Bruce’s morals grounded when the Web sang so prettily about how easy it would be to lightly tug the threads & make everything better whether people wanted it to or not. The voice that talked Dick down from multiple feral episodes, reminding Dick of his own values & humanity, when the Hunt dug in its teeth and nothing else seemed to matter in the world. Jason, who pretended not to be scared even when they were at their most monstrous. Jason, whose fear was tempered by love, leaving such a bitter aftertaste that it often brought them back from the edge. Jason, whose humanity they worked so, so hard to preserve that they’re pretty sure it’s what got him killed. And now…

And now.

That’s Jason. With eyes like hot coals and grave dirt under his nails, stinking of smoke & rubble-dust. Marked by the End and embraced by the Desolation while none of them were looking out for him. That’s Jason, cheeks hollow with hunger (because the Desolation craves everything but moderation, and for all the chaos the Red Hood has wrought, he still has lines he refuses to cross) even though they promised him he’d never starve again. That’s Jason, with blood & brain matter dripping from his fingers because no one was there to stop him.

They have to stop him.

They have to stop him. But none of them want to.

There’s the human level, of course. That’s their hero, their son, their grandson, their little brother. But there’s another side of it, just like all of them. The Eye still leaves Tim waking up feeling sick at the memory of those two trembling fingers resting on his cheek bones (leaving fractures in their wake,) while Jason said something about making sure Tim actually needed those stupid glasses Tim wore in his civilian life. The Hunt turns Dick’s fear & rage against Dick, until Dick doubts his own self-control to not lose himself and rip out the Red Hood’s throat to protect Dick’s family, knowing full well that Dick could never bear to return to his right mind with his brother’s blood lingering on his tongue. The Web pulls Bruce so taught he practically hums, unable to reassure himself when Jason so easily shrugs off Bruce’s threads, failing to reconcile the boy Bruce once risked everything to protect with the monster ripping its way through Bruce’s city, destruction beyond control, aftershocks rippling out far beyond the initial actions.

They’re all monsters, and Jason brings it out of them more than they ever thought possible.

They loved him, once. But he’s not the same.

(Would it be a worse failure to not stop the Red Hood from desecrating Jason’s memory, or to hurt someone they’ve all missed so much simply because they couldn’t look past his inhumanity?)

#I have a lot of feelings about this okay?#//#tma crossover #batfam #batfamily #bat fam #bat family #Web aligned Bruce Wayne #Desolation aligned Jason Todd #Hunt aligned Dick Grayson #Eye aligned Tim Drake #jason todd #red hood #red hood jason todd #my writing #mine #/#(Cass has zero hang ups around kicking Jason’s ass for the record. She can & will at the first chance she gets.)

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mattzerella-sticks · 2 years ago

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doth protest - ao3 link

Batman fanfic, Jason Todd-centric, with Batfamily fluff & humor

Jason will show the others how 'not like Bruce' he is. Except even the best laid plans have their own way of coming undone.

Part I

Jason is not the most like Bruce. He isn’t! It doesn’t matter that no one thought similarly, because they did this just to annoy him, because he’d been the first to say, to joke, that Tim was a miniature version of Bruce only for Tim to reverse it back onto him with everyone dogpiling on in seconds, so fast that it gave Jason whiplash.

Except Jason was joking. The others weren’t.

“You’re cunts. Cunts! The lot of you!”

“You started it,” Stephanie says, hovering over his shoulder from behind the couch. Cass stands beside her, behind his other shoulder. “And don’t call us cunts because you can’t take what you try and dish.”

“I can call whoever I want a cunt if I feel like it!”

Damian sighs through his nose. “Real mature.”

“I’m mature-er than you, shorty.”

“I’m not the one pouting like a petulant little child,” Damian asks, briefly glancing up from his video game to smirk at him. “Am I, Todd?”

“I’m not pouting.” Jason unfolds his arms and buries his hands into the couch cushions then he flattens his bottom lip, so it isn’t puckered and bulbous. “I’m saying that… you’ve got to be blinder than a –“ Don’t say it Don’t say it Don’t say it, “ – a bat –“ Dammit! “if you think that I’m anything like… like… him!”

Tim leans against the arm of his chair to better peer at Jason, better creep him out and make his skin crawl, and he begins counting, listing his evidence using his fingers. “You two fight the same, look the same, brood the same… are the most stubborn, the most sensitive. I know you both happen to like that dumb vampire show that was based off those books but’ll never admit it when confronted.”

“It’s not dumb!”

“You’re the only two who order Neapolitan when we go out for ice cream,” Tim continues, “you both have the same taste in women –“

“But not –“ “And men.”

Tim waits, watching him with an arched brow and the barest hint of a curve to his mouth. Jason sinks deeper into the couch. He tells himself not to pout but he’s not sure if that works.

“I can go on,” Tim says, “if you want me to, that is?”

Jason huffs, “I think you’ve made your point…”

“And you both can’t take a joke!” Stephanie slaps him on the shoulder, “That should’ve been the first thing you said, Tim.”

“Well, it was so obvious…”

“Like I said,” Jason rises and brushes his hands down his chest, flicking his hands at its creases, at imaginary dust, at them, “cunts. I’m surrounded by cunts.”

“You’re the one acting like a cunt!” Stephanie slaps him again. Hard. It echoes in the lounge where they’d gathered and has Jason biting his cheek to keep from yelping. “So why don’t you quit acting like a brat and sit back down.”

“No! Better I act like a bratty cunt than him.”

“You say this as if Bruce doesn’t behave like a bratty cunt sometimes?” Cas asks him. She had enough genuine curiosity in her voice that Jason’s only response is to deflate and return to where he’d been sitting. His plop was louder than Stephanie’s slap. “Doesn’t he?”

“Whatever,” Jason grumbles, low and under his breath, instead of answering. He folds his arms. He pouts, fuck what Damian might say, he pouts! “Would Bruce sit here and let himself be spoken to like this? I don’t think so…”

Stephanie perches herself on his shoulder, brings her face close enough to his ear so that her whisper sends a shiver running across his spine worse than being in the same room as Mr. Freeze. “He absolutely would, and you know it.”

She was right. Jason hated her for it. He hated pretty much everyone right then.

Even Duke, who’d kept mostly silent until now.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he said. “Being like Bruce.”

“It is when I’ve spent so much of my life making my brand about how not Bruce I am!”

“Must suck,” Stephanie chuckles, “Trying so hard to do a one-eighty that you ended up pulling a three-sixty.” She throws herself onto the couch next to Jason and drops her legs into his lap, wearing an awfully smug grin Jason wants nothing more than to claw off her face.

He glares at her. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

She says, “Can’t I?” and revels in how it causes the veins in his neck to twitch, to bulge, to almost burst.

Cass soon drops onto his other side and layers her legs over Stephanie’s, probably because she anticipated how he would have thrown Stephanie onto the floor if she hadn’t intervened. His theory is confirmed with how Cass cocks her head at him and smiles bigger than Stephanie.

“Face it, Jay,” Tim says, “you are… your father’s son.”

He is not. He’s not! Jason is so much not like Bruce that he wants to scream it from the rooftops so loud they hear it in Metropolis, but he doesn’t since it wouldn’t matter to them how hoarse he became while denying it nor could his ego handle it if Clark heard his claim as a challenge and flew to Gotham for the sole purpose of lecturing him how admirable it was being compared to Bruce. Words wouldn’t make a difference.

Actions however…

“I’ll show you,” he says. Jason leaps to his feet and knocks both Stephanie’s and Cass’s legs off him. “I’ll show you all I’m not Bruce by doing something Bruce would never do.”

“Killing?”

“No. Not killing.” Jason rolls his eyes. For once, killing wasn’t the answer. “I’m gonna do something even better.” He leaves the room without revealing anything else, slamming the door as he exits.

The group looks between themselves.

“What do you think he means by that? Better than killing?”

“Isn’t that… most things?”

“I think the better question is,” Damian starts, this time maintaining his focus on his video game while he speaks, “do we really care enough about whatever harebrained scheme Jason whipped up to bore ourselves thinking about it?”

No. They don’t. So, they return to what they’d been doing before Jason interrupted their day.

Part II

THE NEXT DAY

Jason doesn’t feel very much like Bruce at this moment. In fact, he doesn’t feel much of anything other than a light, fluffy serenity that runs through his veins like molasses, that weighs heavily on his eyelids, and that stuffs his poor, dry mouth with cotton.

Why is he standing again?

“Right,” Jason mumbles to himself, remembering. “Water.”

He floats out of his room, smoke trailing him as he makes his way down the manor hallway and towards the kitchen. It is an arduous journey. The manor is a humongous beast and, since Jason had last considered it, somehow grown larger between when he went inside his room and when he left it. His path seems longer than it should be, fraught with more twists and turns that threw his sense of direction into frenzy. His latest error has him shouldering open the door to the gym, stumbling inside it and catching Dick, who takes pictures of himself in the mirror, by surprise.

“Jason!” Dick hisses. A warm blush colors his body, save the parts Jason can’t see covered by the flimsy pair of gym shorts he wears. “What are you doing here?”

Jason ignores him. He glances around the room and mumbles, “This isn’t the kitchen.”

“Course it’s not – what made you think this was the kitchen?”

“I’m trying to get to the kitchen…”

Dick strides over to Jason and studies him, their faces inches apart. Jason doesn’t blink. “Dude,” he says, scrunching his nose, “you reek. Are you high right now?”

Jason scoffs, then laughs. “What? Why would you – are you high?”

Dick isn’t high. He knows that. But Jason is, like Dick rightly suspected, very, very, very high. Which explains why he hadn’t thought of a better deflection than an accusation, and why he was in the gym and not the kitchen, though Jason isn’t able to understand this connection while he’s high.

“You are,” Dick says. “You are high.” He takes a step back. “Why are you high?”

He scoffs again and folds his arms across his chest. “Why do I need a reason to be high? Can’t I just be high… if I were. NotsayingthatIam. High.”

“Wait. Does this have anything to do with yours and Tim’s fight yesterday?”

“My…” It takes Jason a minute for Dick’s question to click. “How do you know about that,” he asks.

“He texted me about it.”

“About what?”

“About your major meltdown from being called Bruce’s doppelganger.”

“I’m not though,” Jason says, “because Bruce would never get high in the middle of the day. If at all.”

“And you do?”

Not recently. Not until now. But once the thought came to him yesterday he couldn’t deny its sound logic so during patrol last night he made a quick stop over at a dispensary – it’s legal here in Jersey – and purchased a few dubs worth of marijuana using cash he swiped off a would-be child abductor. No harm, no foul. The challenge was working up the nerve to actually follow through with his plan. He spent that entire morning staring at the pre-rolled joint, squeezing the orange bottle it came in, nervous since he wasn’t sure how smoking it would affect him. He’d never done anything harder than liquor before. It showed when he nearly hacked his lung onto the floor seconds after his first toke.

He’d rather die than admit that, especially to his family.

Jason chuckles and shrugs on a cocky expression, “I’m such a stoner that it took me twenty joints to even feel the slightest bit of a buzz. At least!”

Dick’s gaze meets Jason’s. “Sure.” His skepticism was obvious. Jason still missed it.

“Great. Glad we got that covered.” Jason jerks his thumb backwards, “If you don’t mind. I’m gonna head to the kitchen now.”

He might trip over his feet as he exits, but only because he’s too cool to care about lifting his feet off the ground. Honest.

Dick catches him before his face hits the floor. “Why don’t I go with you to the kitchen,” he suggests, “I was about to grab some lunch anyway.”

Jason snorts and snickers and doesn’t think how coincidental Dick’s stomach was being. “Sure. That's where I was heading, too.”

He assumes his search will take longer with Dick beside him. However, in his next blink, he realizes they’ve arrived at their destination.

“Whoa,” he mumbled. “Was the kitchen always this close to the gym?”

Dick brushes past him and towards the fridge. “Yeah. They’re actually the same room.”

“They are?”

He stifles a laugh and says, in his most exasperated tone, “Always. You don’t remember?”

“No, I do… I do.”

The kitchen and gym are actually two wholly separate rooms that exist on different floors, and Jason will realize this later on. Now, he believes what his brother told him and shuffles along to the fridge as Dick leaves it for the microwave.

He opens the fridge door and stares. He stares. He stares for quite a while, the chill air caressing his face and the background hum causing Jason to forget exactly why he was in the kitchen to begin with. Jason smacks his tacky lips together in thought. He cannot recall his reason why.

Then, Bruce enters the kitchen with a grunt and a passing “You’re up early,” from Dick and all that serenity Jason felt shatters into a puddle of broken glass at his feet.

What is Bruce doing here in his own manor?

Jason listens as Dick converses at Bruce while he putters around the kitchen, his grip on the door’s handle becoming tighter and tighter with every second that ticks by with Bruce in the room. He can’t do this. He can’t be near Bruce and high at the same time.

Why should he be afraid? Jason is an adult. He can make choices that Bruce wouldn’t approve of. He has made choices that Bruce didn’t approve of! This is not unfamiliar territory for him.

That doesn’t ease the paranoia gnawing on his brain in the slightest. Its teeth sink deeper into his grey matter, and it shakes its maw wildly, sneering, growling at Jason that if Bruce catches him high, catches onto the fact that he smoked in his manor, the worst thing ever will happen. What could that be? The worst, that voice says, so bad you don’t want to know what it is!

Oh God.

There’s a hand on his shoulder and Jason jumps. He whips around. It’s just Dick holding an empty bowl. When did he finish?

“Dude,” he says, “you good?”

Jason attempts to smile. “Course I am.” It was more of a grimace.

Dick didn’t push. Rather, he asks, “What were you looking for?”

“I was –“ The answer hits him with urgency, “– water! I came down here for water!”

“Okay…” Dick glances over his shoulder, “Don’t you need a glass for that?”

He does. Unfortunately, the glasses were in the cabinet Bruce was standing in front of like a gargoyle. If he goes for the glass, Bruce will surely see him and see how high he is and, and…

So bad you don’t want to know what it is!

“Earth to Jason? Hello?” Dick waves his hand in Jason’s face. “Seriously, space cadet – how much did you really smo –“

“I’ll go get the glass!” Jason shouts and pushes Dick out of his way, hoping Bruce didn’t hear him.

He hadn’t even flinched. Good.

Jason can do this. He can walk to where Bruce was, excuse himself, grab his glass and maybe exchange a few words with the old man, make him laugh once or twice, then dart away to the fridge and to his room after he pours himself some water where he can smoke another of his joints to calm the nervous flutter of his heart. It’ll be easy.

Bruce won’t know anything about him being high at all.

Besides, he’s too busy staring at the toaster he –

He becomes sidetracked by it, too. Jason frowns at the toaster, at the limp slices of bread sitting there not being cooked, instead of getting his glass. “What are you doing?”

Bruce shrugs, “Making toast.”

“You are?” Jason reaches for the lever in front and pushes it. The lever, and the toast, spring back up. Bruce takes a slice and complains that it’s not cooked to his liking, placing it inside the toaster once more. “I don’t think that’ll help,” Jason says.

“Why not?”

“Well… it’s not working.”

“It’s not?” Bruce squints at the toaster, scratching his chin. “Why isn’t it working?”

Jason spies the cord from the corner of his eye, the toaster’s plug sitting beneath the outlet forlornly. “I don’t think it’s plugged in.”

“Huh?”

“It’s not plugged in,” Jason repeats. He takes the plug and jams it into the outlet, then presses the lever again. It locks in place. The toaster glows orange as it cooks the bread.

A smile appears on Bruce’s face. “I was wondering why that was taking forever.”

“How long were you just standing here, waiting for toast?”

“I… don’t know.”

Jason turns to him and, when he does, he notices aspects of Bruce’s appearance, his expression, his attitude, and his posture that led to a certain conclusion Jason is unable to stop himself from screaming, “Hold on – you’re high, too!”

Bruce panics, tenses, and begins backing away from Jason. “What? That’s – why would you…” Then, as if he finally digested what Jason said, he raises his own finger. “Too? Are you high?”

Jason bites back his groan. He pales, “I – uh… no?”

In the background Dick, who had seated himself on one of the center bar’s stools soon as Jason neared Bruce, laughs and goes for his phone. “Oh, this is… I’m telling the others what’s happening. They won’t believe…”

Jason glares at Dick. “Don’t you dare tell them –“

“Tell them, what?” Dick mocks. He talks while he lights the signal for everyone else, “That you are so much like Bruce that even the things you think he wouldn’t do, he does? That what you want me to keep secret?”

“No, it’s –“

Bruce sniffles at his side. “You want to be like me?”

“No!” Jason denies as Bruce scoops him into a hug, “No! That wasn’t the point of this at all!”

“This is adorable. I’m taking pictures.”

“You do that and consider yourself dead, Dick!”

“I’ve lived a good life,” he says. The flash goes off on his phone. “This is worth it.”

Jason, trapped in Bruce’s arms, is helpless. All he can do is sulk and pout – he has every right to pout – and grumble to anyone who might listen that he is not like Bruce, no matter what anyone says, no matter that even he believes the tiniest bit that he and his father are similar. It’s the hill he’ll die on.

Which, hopefully, will be soon. Before the others can flock to the kitchen and add to his misery. Jason at least deserves that dignity, doesn’t he?

#jason todd #batman #red hood #batfamily #batfam #batfam fanfic #bruce wayne #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #damian wayne #duke thomas #sibling shenanigans #jason thinks he's cool which is unfortunate because no one else does #dc comics #dcu

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veryace-ficrecs · 1 year ago

Note

Hey! Could you do another daemon rec list? Your other list got me in the mood

Absolutly! d=====(￣▽￣*)b

More Daemon Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Star Trek

Ni'Var by WerewolvesAreReal - Rated G

Humans have daemons. Vulcans have katras. Spock, born of both, has neither. Which he's fine with. Really. Meanwhile, James Kirk is a little curious about this whole daemon business, because how the hell can he have two souls - ?

a resilient touch by kurgaya - Rated T

Jim’s daemon used to be a wolf and Leonard’s not sure how he feels about that. Used to be. [STID Missing Scenes - Jim sleeps. Leonard worries. Someone unexpected talks some sense into them both].

Daredevil

Down to the Bone by SpiritsFlame - Rated G

Everyone always wants to know why his daemon isn't a bat. As though being blind is all that there is to him, the center point of his character.

Spiderman

of things unknown (but longed for still) by aloneintherain - Rated T

Peter Parker can’t walk around with the same daemon as Spider-Man. But she’s going to settle one day, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

The Witcher

Two Halves of a Whole by penguistifical - Rated G

Geralt doesn’t take much notice at first when the small brown bird alights on his table.

one for sorrow by Emamel - Rated T

There were other rumours, older and more persistent, that Jaskier hadn't been able to make a dent in. Witchers don't have souls. Witchers are no better than beasts. How could they be civilised, intelligent, compassionate, human, when they don't even have daemons. What was Jaskier supposed to do about that?

interconnected strand to strand by Hirikka - Rated G

Turns out Jaskier isn't the first person who loves Geralt to be driven away by the witcher. After The Mountain, Jaskier is found by Geralt's daemon. They adopt each other.

The Adventure Zone

a thousand points of no return by anonymousAlchemist - Rated T

Since wizard's daemons often settle as birds and urban legend says that elves are separated from their daemons, no one looks too closely at the fact that Taako and Lup are both single entities, missing the other halves of their hearts. They walk like people, they talk like people, and if they're hard to read because their daemons aren't fluffing up their feathers or swatting playfully with their paws, well, elves are notoriously enigmatic anyway. This lasts until their first death. All deaths on the Starblaster are strange. When Magnus first died on the animal planet, I'morko followed right after, both of their bodies dissipating into golden sparks, a strange inversion of the natural order. The pattern holds. Year after year, person and daemon alike dissipate into a fine mist of dust, knit together by the bond engine in the new plane. During their fifteenth year, Taako is shot through the heart with a well-aimed magic missile. Lup screams and casts one last firebolt, spell-sculpting around their bodies, before unspooling into a fine golden sand.

Yuri on Ice

hollow ground by Piyo13 - Rated T

There's no rules regarding where a daemon has to be in relation to their skater, only that they aren't allowed on the ice. This has always seemed a little unfair to Yuuri. After all, he loves skating like he loves his own soul; why can't he have both?

Batman

I know you won't leave by Speechless_since_1998 - Rated G

Jason was thirteen, adopted for over a year, and he was at his first gala. He expected the rich snobs who looked down on him, judging his daemon. What he didn't expect was to find a child hiding as his daemon took shape. Nor that Ace would adopt him.

everything you lose is a step you take by oceanofchaos - Rated T

“Tim,” she says, hesitant in a way that she never is, not when it’s just the two of them, “About settling.” Thirteen is hardly unreasonable to be unsettled, but rare given their night activities, and Tim’s been thinking hard about what Hestia will choose. “I don’t think I want to settle,” she says quietly, interrupting his train of thought, “Maybe not ever.” “Okay,” replies Tim, stroking a careful finger over her soft brown snout, “Not if you don’t want to.” ------------ Dæmon AU, the life and times of Tim Drake and his dæmon Hestia, before, during, and after Robin.

Fullmetal Alchemist

the lives of wild animals by ohmytheon - Rated G

military - but what people don't realize is that his daemon is just as wild as Mustang's in the end.

In the Shape of a Soul by redketchup - Rated T

Ed says, “Stupid Colonel Bastard.” “Brother, what are you thinking?” Alphonse asks evenly, which is his way of saying, Please, for the love of god, brother, the colonel is not responsible for every terrible thing, but hey, it ends up Alphonse is still loyal to his big brother, because he also adds, “I’m surprised he didn’t make an effort to call us. It sounds like something we could help with. Maybe the first lieutenant has been out recently.” Which conveys how little faith Alphonse actually has in Mustang when he acts outside Riza Hawkeye’s influence.

East City has a new string of murders and, much to a young alchemist's annoyance, his superior officer insists that the Fullmetal Alchemist's expertise is not needed. This leads to more trouble than anyone would expect.

talents of the souls by ohmytheon - Rated G

Edward's hand shakes as he draws the soul bonding transmutation circle on the inside of the armor. Alethea has to hold his arm up to keep him steady. “I won’t let you take them!” Ed screams. “Take my arm, take my heart, take my soul!” Alethea cries out as she buries her face into his stomach. He can’t feel her. He almost gets sick. Oh, god, why can’t he feel her? (Or, Fullmetal Alchemist with daemons, focusing on Edward, Alphonse, and human transmutation. Companion piece to "rummaging in our souls", which focuses on Roy and Riza.)

#veryace asks #daemon au #star trek #batman #fullmetal alchemist fic rec #spiderman #daredevil #yuri on ice fic rec #the adventure zone #the witcher #ao3 fic recs #fanfic recs

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alg1905 · 9 months ago

Text

2 Demons 1 Angel Ch9 Daniel: Family Introductions

Note: W.E. is Wayne Industries with an E. Spell correct doesn’t like it.

Daniel

We entered the large doors and saw a huge room. A large set of stairs were in front of us, to the left a large sunroom, to the right leading off to a hallway. The stairs, walls, and floors were all made of a dark wood that shown in the sunlight. The stairs were covered in a red fabric, a rug? The room was beautiful, but it felt empty. Dust covered the art along the walls, the rich red beginning to fade. It felt like this was once well tended, now it was left. No one to care about the once grand beauty anymore.

Abby clutched at my arm, her hand reaching my wrist, her bag in the other hand. She was seeking comfort from my heartbeat. Yes, she can hear heartbeats, but feeling a heartbeat often calms her down much faster. With her black hood down over her eyes, she looked almost like the first time I saw her. Scared, heartbroken, searching for someone to love and someone to love her.

“Ok, you two don’t come out till you hear your cue.” Jason said.

“Our cue?” I asked, reshouldering my own bag.

Actually, it was a large rucksack that I had found in the garbage. Abby had mended it, which now carries the cooking things, most of our weapons, majority of our clothes, and a couple lengths of rope. Abby is carrying medical equipment and smaller items like fishhooks, water bottles, and string.

“You’ll know. Just stay here.” Jason apparently wasn’t sure what he was going to say.

Me and Abby waited in the hallway; the door was left ajar. I heard many voices. “Ab’s” I whispered; she squeezed my wrist to show she was listening to me. “How many people are in there?”

“Umm... with Damian and Jason, nine people in total.”

Who are all those people? Was it necessary to meet so many people at once?

People were talking. A man’s voice said, “Little D, where have you been?”

“TT, Richard. Do not refer to me by that insufferable nickname. Now release me before I make you.”

I frowned at Abby. She had a slight smile on her lips, her eyes were covered. “Damian got a hug.” I had to grin myself. I just wished I could’ve seen it.

“So, do you mind explaining why we’re here? I was in the middle of an important case when Dick picked me up.” A woman’s voice asked. The woman sounded annoyed but not harsh.

“Yeah, I was in an important call during a board meeting at W.E.” Another male voice.

Jason spoke up. “Yeah. Sorry that we took time away from your such busy lives.”

“Damian, is the reason for this meeting the reason you didn’t return last night from patrol?” A deep male voice, familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

“Yes father.” Father. Batman. Great, just great.

“Then please explain.”

“I was patrolling last night when I discovered two adolescents about to be torn apart by thugs. I intervened before that occurred.”

“How bad are the thugs? In the hospital or worse?” The voice complaining about the W.E. meeting spoke up.

“TIM!” The voice who called Damian ‘Little D’ chastised.

“TT, for your information Drake, the thugs fled as soon as I made myself known. I then discovered that one of the two adolescents had been stabbed and proceeded to take the two to the closest safe house, which was unfortunately occupied by Todd.”

“Why didn’t you call in back up?” a new male’s voice. Gentle and curious, he sounded almost concerned.

“I wanted to get a statement myself.”

“Did you? Who are they? Where are they?” Damian’s father asked. A silence went over the room. Abigail frowned. Before I could ask, Batman spoke again, sounding angry. “Is this true?”

“Yes father.”

“In fact, they are right outside the door.” Jason said casually. “Come on in you two.”

I froze. How did they know? Abby’s grip tightened around my wrist. “Daniel.” Abby’s soft voice was filled with worry, doubt, fear. Her forehead pressing into my shoulder blade.

Distinct thuds, someone walking to the door. Abby didn’t relax as the person got closer; however, she wasn’t becoming more tense. The door that had been left a jar was pushed towards us, revealing Jason. His eyes were scanning the pair of us, trying to determine what the issue was. The smell of take-out food wafted behind him. I couldn’t see anything or anyone in the room as Jason’s wide frame was blocking the doorway. His brown leather jacket open across a simple black T-shirt, and blue jeans.

After a moment or two, Jason spoke. “Come on. These guys won’t bite you. Well, Damian might. But you already met him, so you’re already doing pretty well.” His joke, even if it wasn’t the best, was enough to make me move again.

I can see why Abby immediately took to the man. Yes, he tried to rescue her first, and he gave Abby her name. Besides that, there is something in this man’s stance, personality, aura? That just felt safe. I wonder if this is how Abby sees me.

Jason held the door open, standing to the side. He raised his hand a little, as if he wanted to put it on one of our backs, but he thought better of it. Good. Yes, he has a good record with Abby, still doesn’t mean either of us completely trust him. We barely know the man.

The room itself was grand, though also a slight gloom hung in the air, just like when we first stepped into the place. Three long, leather, couches formed three sides of a square. Two of the couches were facing each other, while the other faced a large fireplace. A couple of armchairs, of the same leather, were placed in opposing corners. A large dark wooden table occupies the space in front of all the couches, currently covered in takeout food. It smells like Mexican. Behind the couches, were glass doors that led outside to a garden. Above the fireplace, hung a family portrait, ten people in all. All the people in the portrait were right in front of us, except one elderly regal man.

Jason gestured for Abby and me to sit, but we didn’t. We stood in front of the fireplace; it seemed that a fire hadn’t been lit there in years, adding to the gloom of the house. Jason stayed standing once he figured out that we weren’t sitting. Abby still had her head pressed into my back, and holding my arm, though not quite as tight. Damian was in the closest armchair to our right, looking relaxed for once with a large black dog by his side, and a black and white cat on his lap. Who knew Damian likes animals?

The eldest man in the room appeared to be about 40 to 45 years old. Hair as black as night, light skin, deep sapphire blue eyes. He was Damian’s mirror image, just 30 plus years older. A black turtleneck, and black jeans. His face was unreadable, glaring at me and Ab’s. Is Abby having better luck at reading this man? He was the only other person in the room sitting in an armchair, in the best position to look at us head on. I would’ve thought he was a king if he didn’t have takeout food in front of him.

On the couch to our left, closer to the older man, was a tall man probably in his late twenties or early thirties. Raven black hair, tan skin, a lighter shade of blue eyes than the middle-aged man. Almost sky blue. He wore a questioning grin, obviously confused about us. Lean, though his shoulders are somewhat built, muscular. Shorts and a light blue T-shirt.

At the other end of the couch, was a blonde girl who seemed to be physically late teens or early twenties, dressed in purple. Purple shirt, purple pants, purple shoes. Currently, her mouth is stuffed with food, making her look like a purple chipmunk. Light skin and lounging on the couch like a monkey in a tree. Blue eyes grew wide when we entered.

On the couch to our right, a red head was sitting, also in her late twenties, a wheelchair behind the couch. Her green eyes sparkled in curiosity and intelligence, behind simple glasses. Light, freckled, skin. A grey shirt, blue jeans, and a black jacket. She seemed like a normal girl, but anyone who knows Damian can’t be normal.

Another young man, this one younger than Jason, but older than Damian, so early twenties tops. He was thin and lanky, but muscles could be seen under his baggy clothes, which wasn’t helping with the skinny effect. Baggy red shirt, baggy grey sweatpants. Black hair, crystal blue eyes which were sharp, intelligence clear in his eyes. Light skin, clutching a mug for dear life. Dark circles hung under the man’s eyes. He apparently doesn’t get a lot of sleep.

On the couch directly in front of us, two more people sat. The man closer to the left side of the couch had dark skin, the darkest in the room. Caring brown eyes, coal black hair, a yellow shirt, and blue jeans. His frame wasn’t extremely built, but it was obvious he didn’t waste his time sitting around. His head was cocked a little to the side like a curious dog.

The last person in the room was a girl with short black hair, cobalt blue eyes, and light skin as well, but in a different way from most of the others in the room. Her face seems shaped different too, like a mixture of oriental with something I couldn’t quite place. She seemed about the same age as the blonde. Though her posture was relaxed, her eyes were moving too fast, looking us over, too fast to be considered normal. A grey sweater, with blue jeans covered her build, though I wasn’t going to put her down any lower on my list of wariness.

The middle-aged man spoke, in a bit of a growl. “Son. Why exactly did you bring these two adolescents here? Putting our family at risk?” That voice. I had only heard it once before, on a rooftop where Damian and I fought each other, but I couldn't forget that voice. Batman.

“Tt. Father, I thought you trusted me.” If Batman relaxed at Damian’s words I couldn’t tell.

The blonde chipmunk managed to swallow the food in her cheeks, “Umm, Dami, who are they?”

Damian looked over to me and nodded. I sighed. “I’m Daniel. This is my little sister, Abigail.” Damian’s eyes narrowed when I called Abby my little sister. I lifted my left hand to take off my hood, as Abby was still clutching my right arm. She hasn’t changed her position since we’ve entered the room.

I closed my eyes then I tugged my hood off. Just waiting for what is going to happen next. The feeling of eternity passed within a moment. I heard nothing other than Abby’s breathing. I couldn’t stand it any longer, I opened my eyes.

Only three people in front of didn’t seem shocked. Jason, Damian, and Batman. Even the dog seemed shocked. Was Batman’s face born in stone? No one moved for another couple of minutes. If this is how they react to me, wait till they see Abby.

Finally, the girl with short black hair right in front of us moved. She… didn’t speak but she used her hands to talk. Sign language. Of course, now it makes sense why there was silence before. I know some signs, though apparently not enough to keep up with this girl. The girl noticed that we didn’t understand, and she looked towards the only red head in the room.

“Can we please see your face, Abigail?” The red head translated.

Abby tightened her grip, letting lose a small whimper. I looked over my shoulder at her, she was so tense. Why…? Oh, she didn’t know any of these people. We don't know their names. To quote Abby, ‘How can you trust someone if you don’t know their name?’

I was about to explain this when the same girl who signed seemed to read my or Abby’s mind. “Cass.” The girl pointed to herself.

Most of the rest of the family seemed shocked that Cass willingly told us her name. Cass looked over to the dark-skinned boy on the same couch as her. Dawning reached his eyes. “Hi. I’m Duke Thomas. This is Cassandra Cain, though she likes being called Cass.” He pointed to Cass, making sure we understood the point.

I could feel Abby relax a little, just by knowing two names she didn’t before. Cass smiled, seeing Abby’s posture relax a little as well.

“Duke, Cassandra? What are you two doing?” Batman asked, more ice in his voice than before. He clearly wasn’t happy that these people were telling us anything.

Cass started to sign, and this time Duke translated for us. “Daniel already said their names and revealed his face. Abigail doesn’t trust us. Names help.”

“There is no reason to trust them, Cassandra.” Batman’s voice is becoming harder. Abby tensed again at his voice. “We do not who know either of them are or who they are working for. I met Respawn briefly working with his father. They could be working for the league or worse!”

I know Abby was clenching her teeth. Whatever small trust started to bond with these people just shattered because of this man. I spoke up before Batman could say anything else. “We. Will. Never. Work. For. The. League. Willingly.” I put as much venom in my voice as I could. Stressing every word to make the point crystal clear. “And my name is Daniel. Not Respawn.”

Cass and Duke seemed to be the only ones on our side. Well, Jason and Damian may be too. I was ready to walk out of that room, my sister in tow, when the blonde spoke up again. “I’m Stephaine Brown, you can call me Steph. Everyone but B and Damian do.” She gave us a small smile. She is cautious yes, but she is trying to help. Apparently, they call Batman, B. Maybe B stands for b!tch.

The red head spoke up. “I am Barbra Gordan. Call me Babs or Barb. Me and Steph are the only people here not officially apart of this family.” Her green eyes, still calculating, softened once she realized what Cass and Duke were trying to do for us.

“I’m Richard Grayson.” The tall, sky-blue eyes, man said. “But everyone but little D calls me Dick.” I gave the man a strange look. Why? Just why? Why would he call himself that? He just grinned at my confusion, giving me no answer.

The young man holding the mug, looked cautious. However, a glare from Cass, he sighed then spoke. “Timothy Drake. Call me Tim.”

Batman still glared at us, giving us no comfort or reason to trust him. Abby took a deep breath. Knowing the only way for Batman to trust us was for her to take her hood down first. Her hand went shakily up to her head.

“It’s ok Ab’s.” I whispered. Making sure she would be the only person to hear it. With my small reassurance she pulled her hood off of her head. I did not expect what came next.

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spooky-fm · 2 years ago

Text

This part is going to be the last one where I tag people! I'm flattered as hell and love all of you appreciating my fic, but I just can't spend 30 minutes tagging individual people. And sadly Tumblr does not let me just copy and paste the list without losing the actual tags, for some reason.

Thankfully, we have the handy dandy update posts with restricted reblogs. This fic is now also on ao3! I will add links to both at the bottom.

Part 7.

It’s impressive, Dick thought, how much confetti five small bags can contain.

Then again, even the most charitable mathematical approximations he’d been absently doing for the last ten minutes could only account for, at most, a third of the colorful bits of paper currently almost fully covering the studio floor. One didn’t need to be a detective (however unofficial) to deduce that several of the kids had smuggled in extra supplies, surreptitiously spread them around, and kept everyone from noticing the excess. He wasn’t sure if he should be proud of his students or appalled that a group of preteens managed to sneak something past him that easily.

Maybe Dick should take some missions with Tim in the near future. His baby brother never failed to shame him into sharpening his situational awareness just by exhibiting his own impressive ability to observe details in the field. Said ability was only dwarfed by Tim’s complete and utter obliviousness in civilian life.

Promising himself to spend some quality time with his family – and not just in vigilante capacity – Dick grabbed a bright-pink plastic broom from the supply closet and started sweeping up the brightly-colored slipping hazard. Naturally, because the universal forces love to conspire against him, the flimsy paper circles were thin enough to not be easily movable by the plastic bristles of the broom and static-y enough to lightly stick to every available surface. By the time he finished with the clean-up it was completely dark outside.

Dick dusted his hands off and surveyed the battleground. The gymnastics studio was almost free from the tracks of the goodbye party his latest class threw after their last scheduled meeting. Empty chairs were stacked by the walls, the floor was freshly-washed and the tables that had been temporarily dragged into the room from the staff room were wiped clean and pushed to the wall next to the chairs. The bag full of trash from the party was leaning to the side next to a stack of empty pizza boxes.

It was a bittersweet feeling, to say goodbye to his students. Even knowing that most of them would return to his gymnastics classes for the next cycle, he felt a tightness in his chest every time the last meeting ended. He’d been a trainer for several years now, and everyone was telling him that he’d get used to the flow of kids in and out of his life, but so far it had only become harder to let his little birds fly from the nest. Was this how Batman felt when his kids inevitably sought their independence? Had Bruce ever stayed late to clear the Batcave after their patrols with the same introspective thoughts running through his head?

Dick shook his head in annoyance. He refused to brood over every change in his life. He was already too much like B in so many ways, it would be criminal to adopt his emotional constipation and melancholy behavior. Plus, his family would literally never let him live it down. Jason in particular, but Tim and Damian too. And Cass had a hidden mean streak a mile wide, which was a major reason for how well she gelled with Steph. He couldn’t even think of Babs with this kind of blackmail material without shuddering. Dick smiled widely. Just thinking of his family teasing him made him feel like he had a balloon in his chest, getting bigger with every thought as if it was being pumped with helium. He bounced lightly on his feet, feeling like he could backflip off the top of the tallest building in Bludhaven and float up instead of down. He grinned sharply. He should start his patrol early tonight. It was good to vary his schedule anyway, and he needed to expel some of the pent-up energy.

As if sensing his shifting mood, Dick’s stomach gave a loud rumble, and the vigilante paused.

Ok, food first, then patrol.

His gaze landed on the pizza boxes. He had barely gotten a small slice during the party, busy supervising a dozen over-excited kids and their parents. Especially the parents. Sometimes the adults took more energy to herd than literal preteens high on sugary drinks. Even then, the pizza he did get tasted good, and he didn’t have any desire to cook for himself that night.

The pizzeria, Antonio’s, seemed to be a small, family-style place, so the QR code on the boxes boasting of the new app and extra fast delivery made him chuckle. It seemed no one was free of the steady march forward of new trends and technological advancement, not even old family diners. But hey, at least he could get an easy order in. If they were still open.

Changing into his street clothes and taking out the trash gave him just enough time to download the app, which helpfully displayed the open status of the restaurant. Dick hummed appreciatively at the bright colors, simple design and easy navigation. He quickly ordered a couple of Hawaiian pizzas, hoping that the reheated leftovers would be tolerable the next day. Maybe he would have the time to actually do a proper grocery run then. Thinking about the abysmal state of his fridge, Dick absentmindedly chose the extra fast delivery option and hopped on his motorcycle, currently disguised for his civilian identity, but ready to be transformed into the Wingcycle at a press of a button. Biometrically sealed to him and only him, of course, he wasn’t an amateur.

The streets of the city were still busy with traffic, but Dick wove through the cars at high speeds like a true Gothamite, whooping with joy at particularly sharp turns and ignoring the honking of disgruntled car drivers. Just as he dodged a disguised police patrol car and turned onto his street, his phone ding!-ed with a notification from the newly-installed pizza app, which was helpfully relayed to his earpiece by the virtual assistant program on his phone.

With the promise of hot food in the near future, Dick practically skipped from his parking spot to his apartment, even doing a couple of flips across the handrails as a shortcut – not that he actually needed to hurry. He whistled to himself as he unlocked his door and quickly disabled the security system, doing an automatic sweep of the room for hidden enemies or displaced items. Finding nothing out of place, he locked the door and started towards his living room couch—

Only to freeze in place as the doorbell rang and his phone gave a cheery pop! of another notification. His pizza had arrived.

Hang on. Pause. Rewind.

His pizza had arrived.

His pizza had arrived, five minutes after the delivery started, just fifteen minutes after he’d ordered it. Even if the restaurant was literally next door, that was barely enough time to cross the road and walk up the stairs. And, unless the person literally ran the whole way, Dick would have noticed them come in, or heard them enter the building, or even passed them in the stairwell. As none of that happened, there were only three possibilities that would explain the situation. First, the delivery person had somehow entered the building before or with Dick and made his way upstairs with two bulky pizza boxes without being noticed. Highly unlikely, especially with the security feed of the front door that Dick hastily pulled up on his phone. Second, they entered the building after Dick started unlocking the door, when even the excellent acoustics in the building could have failed to alert him. And then somehow made it up five stories in the ten seconds it took Dick to lock his door and look around. Third, they avoided the only conventional entrance completely, either using the roof access door or a window to enter the building, which would allow them to bypass him or stay hidden if they timed it right. Keeping the three main hypotheses, Dick tacked on the possibility that he was missing something, that they had used some special ability that was not immediately obvious to him, or that he simply missed the sign of another person almost right next to him. While unlikely, the latter had to always be considered. Overconfidence was the deadliest killer.

This assessment took all of twenty five seconds, during which Dick carefully relaxed his tense muscles, crossed the distance to the door, checked the camera right outside his door to see only one normal-looking kid with two pizza boxes, unlocked the door, and smiled widely with warmth and excitement and absolutely zero apprehension or suspicion in his eyes. Child’s play for a true performer.

The kid looked him over, maintaining a politely bored expression. “Delivery for Richard Grayson, two large Hawaiian pizzas, extra fast delivery,” he said flatly.

“That’s me! Call me Dick, please,” he beamed at the guy. At a closer look, he wasn’t quite a kid anymore, though Dick would bet his second-best Wingding on him still being in his teens. Maybe twenty, at most, but that was probably just the end-of-shift tiredness on the guy’s face. He hid his assessing gaze with another wide smile. “Richard makes me feel about two decades older than my grandpa.”

The other, still unnamed, guy didn’t even twitch, but Dick could have sworn his eyes briefly flickered in amusement, quickly smothered by customer service indifference.

“Thank you for your order with Antonio’s, Mr. Grayson,” he deadpanned, just as flatly as before.

Yep, definitely amusement. Dick congratulated himself on making a new friend. He just knew that he’d see this guy again and he was excited to see how long it would take to crack him. Dick was certain his smile would be really nice to see.

Taking the hint (for now), he accepted the boxes with an exaggerated flourish, mentally high-fiving himself when the delivery guy twitched in amusement again, and handed over an appropriate tip for a late-night fast delivery. The guy’s frosty countenance unthawed just a fraction as the interaction neared its conclusion. He won’t answer any questions, Dick realized. Pressing the issue would only annoy him and possibly blacklist Dick’s account for the future.

Oh, well. It’s not like the guy was hurting anyone, and Dick could hardly begrudge someone the desire to use their full abilities for work or judge them for the lack of enthusiasm for interrogation by random strangers. He gave the guy a cheerful wave, noted the faint, amused relief in his eyes, and closed his door, for the second time in as many minutes.

Listening to the very faint sounds of footsteps outside his apartment, he happily dug into what turned out to be excellent pie. Dick grinned to himself and made a note to get the app for his Nightwing phone as well, after running a security check on the code. He would enjoy cracking this mystery and it was only fair that such a great pizza place received his support. In the form of extra-fast delivery orders.

Maybe he could make the delivery guy smile. Or even laugh. Dick Grayson could find a key to any heart with enough time and effort.

This certainly seemed worth both the time and the effort.

AN: Yeah, Dick is not a cop.

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DP x DC fic: Delivery Ghost

This has been consuming my brain for weeks. Based on this post by @gummybearstastelikesadness:

Danny wakes up in the new world and, not feeling responsible for its villains (unlike the ghost attacks where he is the one who turned on the portal) decides to take a break and have a vacation. As a pizza delivery person, he brings orders to the recipients within the specified timeframe, no matter what. Certain citizens of this world are suspicious when the app lets them order to a town 2 hours away from the location ... and the delivery boy is there in under 10 minutes.

If only Danny cared about their feelings.

Part 1.

Waking up sore and confused in the middle of a random field with only vague memories of last night's events wasn't that weird for Danny Fenton. He had been Amity Park's resident hero for several years and had lived through much stranger awakenings. His list started with Vlad Plasmius's spooky basement inside a cloning tube and his parents' lab strapped to the vivisection table, and ended with places like the middle of nowhere in the Ghost Zone after an ecto-storm or a hundered-year-old abandoned maze of secret tunnels under the Masons' house after a particularly exciting date with Sam. Next to those, an ordinary-looking meadow was a welcome change. Despite that, something felt not quite right, but Danny couldn't quite focus on the feeling in his drowsy state.

Careful inspection of his body revealed that he had all of his limbs attached where they should be attached and functioning as normal. Aside from mild discomfort after lying on the cold ground for a significant amount of time he was perfectly healthy, despite splotches of dried ectoplasm and blood indicating recent injuries.

Deciding that he did not care enough to remember what those splotches were from just yet, Danny shrugged and continued his inspection. He looked around the field, trying to find any clues, tracks, or signs of civilization, and, failing to locate any, he transformed into his ghost form.

The transformation was enough of a jolt to wake him up from his morning sleepiness, forcing Danny to remember the fight with an unfamilliar ghost that appeared just as he finished fixing reindeer antlers to the top of the head of his freshly-made one-foot-tall snowman made from the first snow in the season. He had been so concerned with taking the fight away from his new porch guardian that he hadn't taken it seriously enough. Between exchanging blows and trying to find out the name of the intruder into his neighbourhood, he ended up too distracted to notice that they were not alone and got blasted with a dark-purple beam from behind.

As much as he would have liked to know more, the memory tastefully faded to black and refused to provide any further details.

'Never mind the why's and how's then,' - Danny thought, unconcerned. 'Time to consider the where's and the when's.'

Having thought that, he suddenly realised what had been bothering him from the moment he woke up. He was so busy taking stock of his physical state that he forgot to question the gentle warmth of the ground he had slept on and the decidedly non-December greenery around him.

Wide-eyed, Danny quickly flew up, searching for anything that could point him towards Amity or any other nearby town.

The vegetation did not seem too different from what he was used to, so he concluded that he probably wasn't anywhere Southern enough to be this warm in December. That suggested Clockwork shenanigans, which did not fill Danny with too much confidence.

He turned invisible, picked a random direction, and flew at a leisurely speed fully intending to enjoy the idyllic weather.

A couple of hours later, he finally came across a large enough town where he decided he would not be instantly noticed in the morning crowd. He easily found the local library and got permission to use a computer from the librarian that barely glanced at him in the dimly lit lobby. He made his way towards the two ancient computers ready to learn the local date and hopefully figure out how he ended up in this situation.

Danny wasn't truly surprised when the calendar showed a date a couple months in the past according to his personal timeline. He had spent enough time (ha!) with Clockwork to not be put off by a bit of minor time-travel. What surprised him, however, was his inability to find even a single mention of Amity Park on the internet.

Familiar forums, social media account of his friends, Amity news sources, even his personal blog that he posted blurry pictures of blob ghosts to were missing. Maps, both regular and satellite, showed a familiar but slightly different landscape where his home town should have been with a completely different name written over it.

Danny stared at the monitor with unfocused eyes. If he really had travelled in time, he would have been able to find some trace of Amity, or his friends. Searching for their names gave unhelpful results, and trying to look up ghosts and ghost attacks only led him down the rabbit hole of superheroes and something called 'The Justice League' that just gave him a headache. This led to the natural conclusion that instead of a minor instance of short time-travel he got tangled in a major instance of timeline-hopping.

He shuddered a little, remembering Dan. At least it seemed that Danny didn't exist at all in this timeline, in any shape. That turned out to be a slightly disturbing thought and Danny decided to ignore it with the practiced ease of someone who was used to rolling with the punches for the sake of his mental stability.

He wondered briefly when this world and his started to differ, but his limited knowledge of human history was not enough to give him much of a hint. He figured it was at least a couple hundred years in the past, but that was the extent of his detective abilities.

------------------------

It was a relief to finally exit the stuffy library building and let the rays of sunshine fall on his face after several hours of researching the new world he found himself in. Despite failing to get any closer to the mystery of his appearance there, he didn't feel that upset at the change of scenery.

While walking leisurely along the tidy street, Danny contemplated the heroes and villains of this timeline. It seemed that the Justice League was the top dog when it came to the forces of good. He wasn't sure how to approach them without raising suspicion that a person suddenly coming into existence would certainly cause.

Suddenly, he was struck by a thought so alien to him that he stopped in his tracks and stared blankly ahead.

He didn't have to do anything!

There were no ghost attacks in the news, and thus probably no portal to the Ghost Zone. He hadn't opened a doorway between the Infinite Realms and Earth, and there was nobody who needed help that couldn't be given by any of the local heroes.

Danny realised that didn't feel any pressing need to protect this world. That little part of his core that was always anxious about Amity, about Sam and Tucker, and about the rest of the world was now blissfully quiet. Danny smiled at that, shaking his head and continuing his walk towards what seemed to be a small river.

He also began to notice the stares people around were directing at him and tried to get lost in the crowd - with little luck. It almost seemed that having drawn the attention of the locals, he was standing out as an obvious outsider.

He was starting to get annoyed at the constant attention, when he noticed his ragged sleeve and recalled that he was in fact still covered in suspiciously blood-looking greenish blots. He considered the fact that it was actually blood from his already-healed small scratches was irrelevant.

Cursing quietly, Danny quickly turned into a shady-looking alleyway and made his escape from the public eye by going invisible.

He decided to continue on his course towards the riverside in this way, while mulling over the earlier revelation. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that it was a great idea to take a break and get some rest from ghostly affairs. And if he really wanted to go back, he could always find a way to open a portal into the Ghost Zone and find Clockwork. His sort-of mentor, sort-of father figure wouldn't mind helping him with a little nudge towards the right timeline, would he? Besides, the guy probably knew all about Danny's little jaunt across realities. Since there was no sign of him or his cryptic advice, it was entirely reasonable that he approved of the whole thing.

So it was decided: Danny Fenton was going on vacation.

He flipped in the air in excitement and started flying away from the town. Giggling a little at the fact that he still didn't know the name of the first town he visited in this timeline, he froze in place as something occured to him: He had no money, no possessions and didn't know where to go.

Despite not technically needing food or shelter as a ghost, he didn't want to spend his vacation hiding away under his invisibility. And what sort of vacation would it be if he had no money to spend on fun things like videogames and hot dogs?

He figured the solution was simple: He'll just have to find a job.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #delivery ghost au #delivery ghost #delivery ghost part 7

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