#Danny guns it from the cops

[dcxdpdabbles]

The Summoned Demon Part 4

#Holiday Requests I would love updates to Child Support, The Summoned Demon, and Passion For Fashion

Danny had no idea where he was.

No one around him could understand what he was saying, and he couldn't read anything either. After running through the suburbs, Danny had made his way on foot into the large city. There was nothing familiar about where the cults had summoned him to.

Everything looked wrong. The clothes, the cars, the street ads, and even the people. He stood on the side of a corner, attempting to make heads or tails of his surroundings, but people passed by him like water in a river.

It must have been the fact he was covered in dirt.

Thankfully, a group of teens had been willing to stop his frantic shouting. One girl had snapped her fingers, then waved rectangular screens at him- What was that thing?- speaking into it.

The rectangular screen spoke in what he thinks is a different language, but not anything Danny could understand. Her face fell but she seemed determined to get him to talk into her rectangle. When he did, it gave her soft buz like the ones that are played on game shows where a constant gets a wrong answer.

The girl had looked at her companions, utterly lost, until one of them stepped forward and started playing charades. There were a lot of vague hand motions and desperate gestures when he attempted to explain his situation, and the children were able to direct him to the police station.

No one on staff was able to translate what he was saying. However, they did seem mighty alarmed by how he was covered in dirt and speaking a foreign language. They had given him some water and a change of clothes and sat him in a room with a two-way mirror. Danny felt safe knowing the authorities were on his side, sipping his water at the little table while he waited.

Time moved slowly when more and more police officers entered, attempting to establish communication with him. They placed a list of writing in front of him, each line a different symbol, and he knew they were meant to be a language.

The aging man with white streaks, dusting his red hair, adjusted his glasses, then pointed to the first sentence on the list. He said something slowly, patting his chest with an open palm, then pointing more determinedly at the line.

"Is that your language?" Danny asks, scanning the lines and realizing he can't read one. He shakes his head "I'm sorry I don't understand."

The old man frowns and then stands. He places a chocolate bar on the table- or what Danny thinks is one, but he can't read what it says, and it's quickly becoming frustrating how much that's happening- before heading out of the room. A few more minutes go by when a man wearing one of the police uniforms but a long, more outdated one walks through the door.

Danny blinks up at him as the man carefully considers his face. He avoids looking at the bullet holes decorating the cop's chest. "Wow, you seem pretty young. Wonder what you did to get old Gordon to personally question you?"

Danny chances a look at the two-way mirror before muttering. "I didn't do anything, sir. I got kidnapped."

The man turns around, arms still folded over his chest, but the second he realizes the door has remained firmly shut, he whirls around, gawking at Danny. "You can see me?"

"Yes, sir. I'm half ghost on my mother's side." He jokes but still maintains a level of respect. The Fentons joked around often, but they always respected those in service until the person proved unworthy of the uniform.

"Holy shit!" The policeman laughs. "I don't think you can pass something like that down the family tree, kid."

Danny cracks a smile. "You be surpirse."

"Guess I am. Who knew I would be shocked twice after my death?!" The man's jolly laugh makes Danny relax just a little. He doesn't even mind that the ghost's heaving chest is splatting a few drops of red on the table. "Haven't laughed like that in years. By the way, kid, my name is Alex. Alex Anderson."

"I'm Danny Fenton." Danny smiles, offering his hand for a shake. Alex hesitates, reaching out only to have his face brighten when he makes solid contact and eagerly pumps their joint limbs up and down. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Pleasure is all mine." Alex claps his hands, settling- somewhat as he goes slightly through the metal- in the chair opposite Danny. He laces his fingers under his chin and offers another impish grin. "So what's this about a kidnapping?"

Danny straightens, rapidly recapping his last few days. Alex doesn't interrupt, listening with an intensity that tells Danny he's being taken seriously even if he's still smiling like there is nothing wrong in the world. When Danny is done, he has to take a breath and top off his drink as Alex considers his words.

"That's a rough couple of days, Kid," Alex says at the end, leaning more on his hands. Danny nods sadly, feeling utterly exhausted. He's not sure where the nice older man went, but no one had come to check up on him for a while, and he's starting to feel cagy.

Alex considers him a little longer before throwing his head back with a sigh. "Alright. I guess I need to help you escape. I feel too guilty if I just let Gordon hand you over."

"What?"

Alex stands, pretending to stretch his arms over his head. He nods to the two-way mirror, clicking his tongue at it. "Yeah, Gordon called Batman a while ago when they were trying to figure out your language. This place will be swarming with vigilantes and their magic users any minute now."

"Batman?" Danny repeats, rising to his feet. "What's Batman?"

"The guy who put you in that cave cage." Alarm fills Danny's veins as he realizes that this whole time, the police were setting him up to be returned to the cultist. Was the entire city in on this!? "Normally, I wouldn't be making deals with people Gordon deems unsafe, but given that you're half ghost, I've chosen to ignore my morals in solitary."

"But why?! Why would they give me back to them!?" He demands, rising to his feet and backing away until his back hits a wall.

"I was Gordon's first partner," Alex tells him, gesturing at his chest. "I died to make sure the idiot got back to his wife and kids. Ever since he's done everything he could to make Gotham safe. As much as Batman makes me uneasy, he is doing a good job cleaning this place up and doing what I can't do anymore. I'm trapped inside this building, but I've seen the bats plenty of times, so I know they are not dangerous. I also know they will shoot first or ask questions later; this is your only chance to get away until you can establish communication. Take it."

Alex gestures to the wall behind Danny. "Can you faze through?"

Danny lets himself sink through the stone just as the door is kicked up, and three cops rush in with raised guns. He ends up in another interrogation room- because that's where he was. They had not placed him somewhere safe; they had set him up for capture- where a man handcuffed to the table screams. Danny apologizes desperately, trying to get the guy to stop yelling, as Alex yanks him by the collar of his shirt.

"No time for manners, Kid! You have to get out of the building. Bat's just landed on the roof!" Danny races through the walls, ignoring the people who shout and scatter at his sight until Alex leads him straight out of the building. The ghost stops behind a window, where chains had manifested and wrapped around him, preventing him from going forward.

Alex doesn't seem to pay them any mind as he points in a direction. "Head that way until you see a giant clown. The Joker is currently in custody, but his old hideout has thousands of ghosts. Someone is bound to know what to do. If that fails, follow the road with the white bricks to Old Gotham. Lots of Magic is rooted there. Maybe you'll find something."

"How do you know that?"

"My mom was a professional card reader. I inherited some of her ability to sense the paranormal, and trust me when I say Old Gotham always felt cursed." Alex pauses before tilting his head. "If you ever get to talk to Gordon, tell him I forgive him. And the key to our treasure is at our old hideout. Tell him I still love him even if he picked her."

Danny's eyes fill with water. "I promise."

"Good." There was a loud thump as a man in a trench coat raced down the hallway, aiming his glowing hands at Danny. Alex threw himself before the bright yellow beam, spreading his arms wide as he made a shield. For a second, Danny's vision overlaps with a similar image of Alex blocking a young redhead man in the same position. "Now go, Kid!"

Danny shifts into Phantom, flying at his top speed without further comment. Behind him, he hears someone with a British accent swear, and Alex's cries of pain nearly cause him to forget to turn intangible when he flies through traffic.

There had to be some way he could find a living person who understood him

_____________________________________________________

"What happened?" Bruce demands as John pushes something in a jar. Since it looks like an impressive mime trick, he's fairly sure it's actually a ghost causing problems for the Brit.

"Bloody demon had help from a human soul," The blond grunted, grabbing at the air. "Stubborn one that seemed convinced it was helping a child."

"Why?"

"Hmm?"

Bruce feels his eyebrow twitch but remains impassive overall. Right now, he's Batman, and Batman does not let emotions cloud his mind. "Why would a ghost think it was helping a child? Demons can't hide their nature from paranormals. John, are we chasing a child?"

"Normally, I would say, yeah, the thing is a child, but this one isn't your average spook. It's powerful. You saw it, right? The demon shifted forms, and I couldn't even see its second form until the two bright rings of light. If it could fool me into thinking the human flesh suit was its real form, it can easily fool a ghost."

"If it's so powerful," Tim cuts in, walking towards the pair with a floating hologram from his wrist. The integration room security camera plays on it, displaying the demon calmly sipping water. "Then why didn't it escape before? All it did for three hours before Gordon was alerted was wait."

John frowns at the camera, sealing the jar with a wax melt. "That is odd. Normally, things on that power level do everything, but be calm."

Bruce didn't like this. They had lost something powerful in his city; it had evaded detection only to waltz right into custody, where it had just as easily escaped. They had also confirmed that the demon was visiting the children previously offered to him as sacrifice.

First, there was young Jack, then Molly, who had attempted to help him with a translation app. The girl didn't seem to consider otherworldly language was untransltable. She behaved as if the demon with its harsh, raspy voice and chilling presence was not there to harm her.

In fact, when Steph interviewed her, the teenager insisted that the demon seemed lost and frightened.

Which one was the truth? His experts of the supernatural or the signs that the possible demon was dropping. That it was just a lost child terrified out of his mind?

Bruce had too many questions and not nearly enough to get any kind of answers. They needed to capture the boy again.

[rosemaryhoney27]

Danny's Hustle

Title: "Hit of the Day"

It had been a rough couple of weeks for Danny Fenton.

Gotham was not the friendliest place for a broke, half-ghost teen. Metropolis had Superman. Central City had The Flash. Gotham had… shadows and crime and a suspicious smell of despair baked into every brick wall. Danny had drifted here after some close calls with ghost hunters and his parents' trial dragging into absurd territory. He figured Gotham's chaos might be enough to help him stay hidden. But what he hadn’t figured was how fast money dried up when you didn’t have an ID, a home, or even a working toothbrush.

So here he was, half-starved, trying to figure out how to make enough cash to survive the week without attracting the attention of either Batman or, worse, one of Gotham’s less-restrained vigilantes. He needed something fast, something eye-catching, and maybe just a little insane.

Luckily, Gotham thrived on insane.

He was trudging along an alley near Crime Alley — fittingly enough — when he heard laughter. Not the fun kind. The cold, wheezing, "somebody's about to be horribly maimed" kind. Rounding a dumpster, Danny froze.

The Joker stood there, wiping a bloody crowbar on a fancy purple coat, whistling cheerily as a few unfortunate henchmen moaned in pain on the ground behind him.

Joker blinked, seeing Danny. “Huh. You don’t look like one of mine. Or Batsy’s. What are you, street meat?”

Danny’s ghost core surged. Not because he was scared. He was furious. He remembered Gotham news reports, saw what the Joker did to kids, families, entire neighborhoods. And here the guy was, strolling around like he owned the block.

Danny’s lips slowly curled into a smile.

About fifteen minutes later, people passing by the alley would stop, turn around, and double back, squinting in disbelief at the sign made from cardboard and duct tape:

"GET YOUR HIT IN ON THE JOKER!"

One Day Only! $5 Per Swing! Bats or Bars or Slippers Provided! No Questions Asked. No Refunds.

The Joker was hanging from the wall — literally. Tied up with a mix of ectoplasm, rope, and some glittery shoelaces Danny had picked up from a donation bin. His crowbar was now neatly propped on a folding table next to a wiffle bat, a nerf gun, a glitter-filled pillowcase, and a set of squeaky rubber chickens. His eyes swirled dizzily, and every few seconds he giggled, hiccuped, and muttered, “Best… carnival… ever…”

Danny, in a stolen hoodie and phantom-form halfway active to keep himself invisible to passing cops, called out to a growing line of locals.

“Step right up, folks! Has your family ever been terrorized by Gotham’s Clown Prince of Crime? Did he blow up your apartment building? Poison your pet goldfish? Steal your car and leave it parked on top of a giraffe? Well, today is your lucky day!”

He slapped the sign cheerfully. “Five bucks per hit! Pick your weapon! Vent your soul! And maybe, just maybe, you’ll sleep a little better tonight!”

People laughed. People paid. People lined up.

A tired nurse smacked Joker with a flip-flop while muttering about missed sleep. A barista pelted him with soggy muffins. A guy in a ratty Penguin mascot suit delivered a dramatic monologue before dunking a pie in Joker’s face.

Danny made bank.

Somewhere around hit number forty-two, Red Hood dropped down from a rooftop, helmet gleaming. He stood, arms crossed, watching a ten-year-old repeatedly boop Joker on the nose with a nerf bat.

“You charging money for this?” Red Hood asked.

Danny grinned. “Five bucks. First hit’s free if you were personally murdered by the guy.”

Red Hood stared.

Then he pulled out a twenty, peeled off the cash, and grabbed the glitter pillowcase.

“Make change,” he muttered before stalking toward the Joker.

Danny leaned back against the wall, counting his earnings, the Joker’s giggles echoing behind him as more people joined the queue. A few bats flew overhead. Somewhere, Batman probably facepalmed.

But Danny?

Danny grinned wider.

In Gotham, pain was currency. And today, Danny Fenton was very rich.

part 2

[stars-obsession-pit]

“So Danny, how’s Gotham been treating you so far?”

“Pretty good - it’s nice to not be caught up in ghost fights all the time. But, uh, I think I might be being stalked?”

“What the hell!?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m not sure. I keep seeing this guy in this red helmet thing staring at me.”

“He hasn’t approached you or anything though, right? Maybe it’s a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah… no. I’d be more willing to accept that before I saw him staring at me from the rooftops multiple times in different places. And either way, I’ve seen him carry like, a lot of guns. Just because those can’t hurt my ghost form doesn’t mean I wanna get close to them, y’know?”

“Dude, what the fuck. You should call the cops.”

“In Gotham? Besides, what do I even say? ‘Hey, I’d like to get a restraining order. What’s the guy’s name? Uhh, idk. Red Helmet Man?’ they can’t put that on a legal document. I’m just gonna try to avoid him and hope he loses interest. I just wanna attend class, man.”

“Danny, I know you have powers, but please stay safe. I don’t want you to become a full ghost any time soon.”

[kizzer55555]

Core Gems

So when a ghost becomes injured, they have a last ditch defense where they retreat into their core. And I mean, injured badly where their body is rip apart to the point they can’t hold a solid form anymore. And they basically go into a hibernation state until they are strong enough to form again.

Ellie, Danny, and Dan are all injured in a final battle against the GIW. The organization was destroyed and the ghosts were safe but the halfas ended up being so injured that they reverted to core form and then went to sleep for a bit. When they woke up, they were still weak but at least recovered enough to gain consciousness. And realize…they are in some kind of auction…in the middle of a heist. It appeared that two furries (one in a bat costume and one in a cat costume) were ducking it out. And they…they were a necklace. All three of them had been turned into a necklace with their cores as gems accompanied by sapphires, pearls, and opals. And frankly gorgeous craftsmanship as the metal was crafted around their cores as if to cradle them and the other gems.

Unfortunately, they were too weak to take a form properly, they could still feel the strain on their bodies. But at least they could still communicate through their auras. Then the cat lady punched a hole in the glass container surrounding them and grabbed their necklace.

However, the bat grabbed the other end and it resulted in a sort of tug-a-war. Meanwhile, Danny, Ellie, and Dan were having a back and form commentary on the situation and what they should do. Completely unheard by the other party.

In the corner of their eye, the three halfas finally noticed a third contender. Some kind of clown who was…hold on…holding a gun?! And it was pointed straight at the two fighting furies who had yet to notice him. The ghosts’ protective instincts went into overdrive and they frantically tried to shout, yell, move. Just do something to warn the two but their cries fell on deaf ears. All they succeeded in doing was faintly glow which immediatly caught the attention of the fighting duo. The two turned to look at the strange necklace but right at that moment, the clown fired and a gunshot rang throughout the auction room. Having no other options, Danny and the others poured every ounce of ectoplasm they had to try and phaseshift, making the two furries intangible as the bullets passed right through them, but in their shock, the two jumped away in opposite directions and accidentally ripped the necklace apart. Gems and pearls went flying and the three cores bounced along the ground.

Luckily, the two finally noticed the clown and went to deal with him and his minions who had appeared. Seemingly putting their fight on hold and forming a temporary truce. The three halfas could only watch as the battle finally wound down, ending with the cops barging into the place and arresting the clown and his grunts, the cat managing to escape with half the scattered gems and pearls from the broken necklace along with a few other jewelry pieces (none of their cores though) and the bat leaving through a skylight.

The auction continued and in the end, despite being broken, their necklace seemed to have caught someone’s interest. A man named Bruce Wayne bought up every piece of the shattered jewelry wear. The auctioneers appeared relived that the item managed to sell in the end and gratefully gave it to him.

Bruce had no idea what happened at the auction, but he could have sworn that some of the gems faintly glowed right before he and Selina were shot. If the necklace was some sort of magical item, then he needed to understand exactly what has been brought to Gotham. It was unfortunate that Selena had taken some parts of the necklace but he utilized his vast wealth to make sure all the other parts ended in his possession. Now he would take them back to the mansion for examination.

[riot-ghost]

Commissioner Gordon was ostracized within the Gotham Police department. He knew this was because of his ties to the Bat, his late hours, constant overtime. He knew that even the good officers, while he couldn't tell too much who was who, didn't mean to ostracize him. It happened on accident, he's sure. He picked up some clues from the world's greatest detective. Rumors went around, running rampant about him. He just couldn't care so much about them.

Everyone knew that Commissioner Gordon always took his late dinner at 9:37 at night. Everyone cleared from the break room. Gordon opened the door, taking a heavy breath. He was still expecting the empty room. It felt empty, in a way Gordon had picked up from The Bat. He pulled his burrito out of the fridge, opening the styrofoam container and eating a bite. "You're not going to heat it up?" Gordon barely manages to catch his burrito, his whole soul leaving his body.

"Jesus Christ, kid, you scared me." Gordon lets out a heavy breath, seeing the new detective sitting at a table in the corner. He's eating... Something indescribable. He looks tired, his long black hair bulled back into a high ponytail. His face seems disproportionate, large prominent features. A crooked nose, a wide, thin mouth, large eyes accompanied by large bags. His skin was pale, dusted with faded freckles and litchenburg scarring. The young man- still a boy, practically, shrugged at Gordon's words, eating another bite of the odd food. "No one warned you I'd be in here?" Gordon decided to sit with him.

"No, they warned me. But the past couple of days they've been... Avoiding me." Dr. Fenton, Gordon remembers his file passing over his desk. He could never be a cop- he was a detective-by-hire because of some medical condition. Gordon feels a pang at the emotionless words.

"Ah, they avoid me too." Gordon takes another bite of his cold burrito. "So, how have you been enjoying working here?"

"Well, it's been alright, I guess." Fenton took a drink from his thermos- which has a straw in it. It goes unsaid that this was the only job Fenton could really get. Close to the force, anyways. His medical condition refrained him from being a proper officer, so he wasn't officially a Gotham PD detective. He was an out-contract detective, receiving the same work, pay, and hours as the regular detectives.

"Getting around the town well enough?"

"Well enough, I suppose. Almost got robbed." Fenton held three doctorates- criminology, psychology, and natural sciences. All at the young age of 22.

"Almost?" Gordon snorts a bit at that. "Scared them off with your badge?"

"I don't have a badge. And I don't have a gun, if that's what you're thinking. I guess they just thought I was too pathetic to have much cash." Danny shrugged.

"Oh come on, you're not pathetic." Gordon is a bit taken aback that the boy doesn't carry any weapons. He makes a mental note to get him a badge.

"I looked pathetic enough not to rob."

Gordon feels like he missed something there, because Gotham robbers would rob a kindergartner if they were unattended. Regardless, he and Fenton sat in silence for a good couple of minutes. "What are you eating?" Fenton asks eventually.

"A burrito from the Mexican stand on Westwood."

"Why are you eating it cold?"

"Because if I reheat it, then the sauce becomes a solid liquid and everything gets soggy. What are you eating?"

"It was supposed to be stir fry?" Danny stared down at the leftovers container. "I'm not good at cooking. No videos ever make sense, so they don't turn out right."

"Your parents didn't teach you?" Gordon asks.

"No, they weren't the best chefs. They did pass on the family fudge recipe though. I can make some killer fudge." He laughs a little bit at that.

"I'll bring you lunch in from now on." Gordon says. "Until we can get your cooking sorted out, anyhow. Normally my daughter and I spend Tuesday nights fixing dinner together, so you'll get the best meals Wednesday."

"You don't have to do that." Danny seems a little caught off guard by the kindness.

"I can't have one of my youngest detectives going hungry!" Gordon smiles. "Besides, you're the first person in the precinct to eat dinner with me in nearly twenty years. You keep eating with me, it'll be no problem. I enjoy the company." Danny smiles at him and Gordon is reminded of someone, but he can't remember who.

Over the next couple of weeks, Gordon and Danny get well acquainted in their overlapping shifts. Danny works the nights and sometimes early mornings, similar to what Gordon does. Gordon finds himself feeling fatherly to the young man, who's working and picking up significant overtime to pay off his student loans. He learns that Danny moved here from Illinois- it was the only PD he could work at. He had no formal fighting training, but apparently his mom had taught him some moves. They had yet to overlap in the field, and it was easy for Gordon to forget that the boy was really a detective.

"Danny?" Jim paused, having finally made his way to the crime scene. Danny was crouched over a dead body, using his gloved hands to inspect the wound- the word Joker carved using some sort of knife.

"Gordon?" Despite all insistence, the boy still used his last name.

Jim has to stop himself from asking him why he's here. Danny's eyes shift to a spot behind him and James sighs. "What happened?" Batman's voice startled the last officer in the room, who quickly stuttered an excuse and left.

"The Joker broke in, tortured her, and left." Jim says. "We just have to figure out why."

"No, we don't." Danny looked back at the body, his eyes unfocused. "It was political. Do you see the swelling here on the neck? No lacerations, and no bruising. Allergy, I suppose, or a poison that reacts similarly. No clawing at the neck or face, but heavy rope burns on the wrists and ankles. The cuts were sloppy, and from the bleeding, it was done after she had died. Maybe five, ten minutes after? The window wasn't fully closed when it was broken into, do you see how the glass fractured there at the top?"

Jim blinked, and Danny continued. "It doesn't fit the motive of a mad-man like the Joker to do this. Who you're looking for is a woman, younger than the victim, maybe around twenty or thirty?" His eyes unfocused again. "Hmmm." He snaps back, looking around. He stands, his hands shaking a little. He looks around, eyes landing on the shelf. He scans it, using gentle hands to lift the potted plant. He pulls out a camera, unplugging it. "A Direct Link- model E47C." He sets the camera in an evidence bag.

Batman gives a grunt- and if Jim isn't mistaken it was one of approval? Danny held the camera out to Jim. "That was some fine detective work today, kid." Jim sets his hand on Danny's shoulder. Danny glances off to the side nervously. He locks eyes with Batman. "Danny, this is Batman. Batman, this is Dr. Daniel Fenton, the newest detective on the force."

Batman holds a hand out. "I look forward to working with you." Danny pulls off one of the disposable gloves, reaching out to shake his hand. "You're shaking a little, are you alright?"

"Medical condition." Danny answers. "You're taller than I expected."

"It's the ears." Jim represses a smile. "You go ahead and get your deductions filed. I brought pasta." Jim watches Danny leave. He turns to Batman, who's staring him down with that signature I-know-everything™ face. "What?"

"When are you going to let him know that you're mentoring him?" He says it like a sentence, and was that amusement in his tone?

"I'm not." Jim turns to the window.

"You brought him pasta."

"He never learned to cook."

"So you're teaching him." There was definitely amusement in his tone now.

Jim huffed. "We're getting old." He finally sighs. "We both have full grown kids. Crime and corruption are still thick in this city." Batman is standing next to him with a swoosh in his cape. "Retirement... I could see myself with it. Sipping cocktails on the beach. A beach with sunshine and no broken down carnivals."

Batman is silent for a moment, as if considering this. "So you see Fenton taking your place?"

"Like you see your Robin." Jim admits.

[tiny-space-platypus]

Half baked idea time!!

DC/dp au where it's like late teens/warily twenties punk Danny being tired as shit. Like this man just wants to sit on a roof top, patch himself up, maybe smoke then go back to having to do inner dimensional politics or another fight. But Danny can't have that instead every time he tries a hero either thinks he's going to kill himself and tries to intervene or some sort of fight breaks out and his stupid core makes him have a mighty need to assist. Also, where the hell did all these heroes come from, ancients knew they weren't there when he needed help. He's just a tad bit bitter about the only time he's getting attention from heroes is the only time he doesn't want it. He goes everywhere just trying to catch a break.

Or

Danny tries to find some peace and fucking quiet only to end up freak out the league because dear god this kid is going through it and they need to get him before he becomes a supervillain or something.

Metropolis

Chills for 5 minutes seeing Superman nopes the hell out of there cursing in kryptonian. He deals with his kind enough in the realms he doesn't want to deal with the living either. "Nope! Not today! Not dealing with you today!"

Superman is freaking out because there's a kid that was sitting on top of the daily planet only to disappear speaking his language??? He also had a really slow heart beat? Was that child alright??

Coast city

Danny's on a large skyscape sitting on the edge watching the streets below as he patches himself up and lights a smoke only to have it glow green and ripped from him.

"You know, this stuff isn't exactly good for you. Especially on skyscrapers. Besides you seem a little young to be smoking."

Danny who looks like he wants to tackle Hal pit of the god damn sky for interrupting his break. "I feel like I'm too young for a lot of things but here we are"

Hal starts some sort of space cop speech and Danny decides fuck this and jumps off the building mouthing "Acab" with a salute and disappear giving the green Lantern a heart attack. Since he thinks he's about to save a kid from falling to his death only for the kid to not be there.

Central City

Danny is yet again trying to relax on a skyscraper only to be interrupted by the flash. At least this time the hero doesn't take his smokes instead just sits next to him. It's nice actually, the quiet white noise of the city below shining how stars would in the sky. Eventually Danny would finish his smoke and put it out before shoving the bud in his pocket. (He won't litter) as soon as Danny stood up the flash grabbed him forcing him back to sitting.

"Look kid, I don't know what's going on but there's gotta be a better way than this. I'll help you if you need help just-"

Danny now staring at him. A little dumbfounded then laughed.

"I'm not trying to kill myself. Just wanted to smoke in peace." Danny looks down at the ground from 150 meters up "besides I've fallen from worse"

"Great! Wait what?" The Flash looked relieved for a second then proceeded the second part of what Danny just said. The flash only looked away for less then a second which gave Danny just enough time to disappear scaring the shit out of the hero.

Bludhaven

Danny after having a rather rough fight as phantom with his parents. Bleeding and mumbling curses as he patches himself up on another skyscraper. "Stupid ecto-gun, stupid laws, stupid, stupid"

Just as Danny started to patch a literal hole in his side Nightwing would make his appearance. "Back away-"

Danny snapped at the hero. "You've got to be fucking- I'm trying to kill myself, Yes I'm injured, no I do not want help, yes I'm fine. Will you be going now?"

Nightwing paused then sat next to the kid a little disturbed. As he watches this kid doing stitches on himself. "Bad day?"

Danny snorted as he finished stitching himself up with fishing wire. "Bad life" He then started smoking again making the vigilante frown. This kid was nowhere near old enough to smoke but the kid was also giving himself stitches on a roof so not the worst thing this kid has done so far. "Wanna tell me what happened?"

Danny shrugged. "My parents shot me again"

"I'm sorry what? Again?!"

[o0sleepingdead0o]

Prepared for Anything Pt. 2

Part 3, MasterPost

Gotham was a terrible place to live.

It was great.

People weren’t overly friendly or familiar with people they didn’t know, meaning they paid Danny no mind. No one mentioned he had fangs. No one commented on his slightly pointed ears. And no one questioned his strange ability to ward off muggers and would be criminals without even having to speak to them. His ghost aura came in handy sometimes.

It also mean that rent was dirt cheap. Especially in Crime Alley where Danny had taken up residence. It was made even cheaper by the fact that Danny didn't need heating with his ghostly physiology. It cut a lot down on bills. Not that it really mattered much. As Ghost King, he had an abundance of funds that he wasn’t sure he could dry it up within fifty lifetimes, let alone his one. However immortal it was.

The downside was the old wiring. Leaving him here. Eating Mac and cheese out of the pot he’d been cooking up as he watched the fire flicker and smoke plume out the windows.

Now, Danny hadn’t been planning to flee his apartment, it’s not like he woulda been in any danger, but his neighbour, some guy named Jason, had gone door to door, ensuring everyone was following the fire drills that children learned in elementary school which were ultimately incredibly flawed. Who really believed that an entire school of children would stay calm and collected during an actual fire?

Jason was nowhere to be seen now, though. Danny wondered if he was okay, but that guy currently helping a family out onto a fire escape, Red Bird. . .Red Helmet or something, would probably make sure he was. He was apparently a crime lord, but a good one?. . . .

. . .

Gotham was weird.

Just as the red guy and the family reached the ground, a scream for help called from the second top floor. They sounded young. Danny looked up to see a little girl at a window and flames raging too close for her to go anywhere.

Well. . . that was concerning. Who had left such a young kid unattended? 

Red Dude was dashing out to the front of the building to get his bearings, looking for a way up. He wouldn’t be able to reach the girl using the fire escape. Danny took another bite of his Mac and Cheese, watching as the man’s grapple gun jammed.

Danny heaved a deep sigh. 

He supposed he would have to get involved.

Leaving the crowd of tenants that had huddled on the sidewalk, Danny trudged back across the street and into an alley. He went far enough that no one would see him and opened a portal. With one hand, he reached in, found purchase on his quarry, and turned away to drag the ladder out and behind him.

Danny found Trigger-Happy-Dude starting to scale the building. Danny interrupted him before he got too far.

He belatedly wondered where the fire-fighters and cops were.

“Oh, hey, look what I randomly found in that alley.”

Red Dude paused to look at him. Looked at the ladder trailing behind Danny.

“It’s a ladder.” Danny raised it slightly from his lazy hold, noting how much he felt like he was giving an infomercial right now. “Pretty long, huh? Long enough to reach that floor, I bet.” Danny added helpfully with an encouraging nod. “How fortuitous.”

The Red Dude was quick to drop down and take it from him, but stared at Danny the whole time as if was abnormally weird.

Which was rude. Danny was just abnormal, thank you very much.

“Uhh. . .good work.” Red Dude said, setting up the ladder with Danny’s help. The vigilante tested it for stability. 

Danny scoffed. As if he would purposefully tamper with it.

Which wasn’t too far-fetched in this city.

Red Dude deemed it acceptable. “Hold it steady for me, would ya?”

Danny nodded.

The man climbed up and Danny held both sides, pouting down at his pot of Mac and Cheese he’d had to set aside for the moment.

Ah, the sacrifices he makes.

Across the street, there were a multitude of cheers as Red Dude reached the little girl and settled her on his front like a backwards piggy-back hold.

Danny stepped aside when Red reached the bottom to pick his pot back up.

Sirens cut into the roar of flames above their heads and the loud call of the tenants that had lasted rather short, a few half-hearted cheers dying on the wind.

It was the middle of the night. Everyone was tired.

The mother of the little girl ran up to take her child and flagged down the first paramedic to arrive on the scene.

Danny returned his gaze to Red Dude who equally eyed him. Or at least, Danny assumed. His head was facing him.

“You’re that guy who punched out Joker.”

Danny paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. He slowly brought it the rest of the way. “How’d you know about that?”

“Cameras.” Hood tapped his helmet with a finger. “I saw RR and Robin’s video feed.”

Danny hummed, nodding along as he chewed. He wasn’t terribly concerned. Danny was just a random guy that happened to punch another random guy. It probably happened all the time in a place like Gotham. There was no need for further investigation into who Danny was. The vigilantes had probably forgotten all about him until this instant.

Red Dude looked at his pot. “That’s what you’re eating?” He said, somehow conveying judgement through the modulator.

“Yep.” Danny took another bite. After a moment of contemplation, he left the fork in his mouth to produce another from his hoodie pocket. He held it out to Red Dude. “Mac and Cheese?”

The dude leaned back slightly and his crossed arms gave the impression he was offended. “You just carry forks around in your pockets?”

Danny shrugged. “Ah, ya know, never leave home without a back-up fork.”

Red Dude considered him for another moment and Danny thought he’d decline. But then, he shrugged, his stance relaxing somewhat. “Sure.” He accepted the fork.

[stealingyourbones]

Prompt Idea: Danny has plot armor.

To start off, Danny’s whole family knows he’s Phantom, and they had to run from Amity because of the GIW. They wind up in Gotham because that’s the one place that The Government doesn’t really mess with.

The reason behind Danny’s plot armor is that in this world, Danny became incredibly overprotective of his friends and family in order to make sure he doesn’t wind up as Dan, ironically making the chance of that happening much greater than before.

In order to prevent this, Clockwork gives Danny and his family a blessing. It works like this.

Imagine you rolled a dice. To Clockwork, there are now 6+ possible alternate timelines that can ensue. Clockwork’s blessing allows those possible timelines to be restricted to only one or two, all of them good for the Fenton family.

In effect, it was like plot armor. Scarecrow attacks a library with Jazz inside? Oh, looks like her parents need her to pick up Danny early, or she drank too much water and needs to go to the bathroom, which just so happens to have a window just in reach that she can escape from.

Maddy needs to get a job? Well, Jazz’s university needs a new chemistry professor (last one was kidnapped by a rogue) and they’re in a bit of a rush so they’ll skip looking for a teaching certificate. No one cares anyways, it’s Gotham.

Jack needs something to do? Well, besides hunting ghosts, he’d always wanted to open a food truck! With Jazzy making sure nothings contaminated and some (slightly modified) recipes from the Ghost Zone, he can finally chase his dream in a big city with his Phantom Food Vehicle! He wonders what some of those shady men came up to him for, or that odd stout fella in the tux.

(The Phantom Food Truck has become a recent cryptid in Gotham. Except it’s not a cryptid, because everyone’s seen the video of the truck hurtling down the street like it’s chasing down the devil, cop cars and vigilantes alike on its tail. And yet, no one could find it. Not even the Bats. That’s about when everyone gave up. When they learned that you don’t find it, the Phantom Food Truck finds you.)

As for Danny? He’s entirely unaware of this, to focused on keeping his head down. It works, for a while. Before fate came knocking in the form of a wicked smile, as if there solely to ruin his day.

The Joker wasn’t having a good day either. He started out having a jolly old time, joker toxin gassing a small high school, making sure to leave macabre presents for his dear Batsy, and then what happens? This random kid just starts running around, helping students, saving teachers, what’s he gonna do next huh? Save a cat from a tree?

What’s worse, his useless henchmen couldn’t even land a hit on the kid! He swears, Bill doesn’t even seem to be trying.

Whatever, they managed to corner the brat, looked like he was standing in front of some other children. So Joker lines the shot, and he fires.

The gun jams.

Alrighty, he takes one from a random mook, and he shoots again.

The gun jams.

No one’s moving at this point. Where there was once dread and tension in the air, there’s just confusion. So Joker points the gun at a goon, pulls the trigger, the shot goes off.

He turns back to the Robin-ish looking twink, and he pulls the trigger.

The gun jams.

And as he starts walking towards the kid to just kill it himself, he wakes up in the Arkham hospital wing with his last memory of the encounter being him slipping on the glowing green contents of some weird looking thermos that the kid had thrown earlier in the fight. What the FUCK was that.

Clockwork doesn’t even care how pissed the Observers are any more, this is hilarious.

it's to the point of ridiculousness that the Bats have an entire file on Danny and they think he's a meta with a luck ability and nothing else.

[cynassa]

we were twenty for such a short time

Nightwing found him. It unnerved him, because he hadn't expected to. Red Hood was sitting on a crumbling ledge, helmet off, cigarette stuck in the corner of his mouth. He didn't look like he was out of his mind, or going to go for a gun or knife.

"Why'd you do it?" Nightwing asked, carefully maneuvering himself out of the way of the heavy-looking desk that could be flung at him.

Red Hood grunted. "Don't suppose you've got antiseptic in there somewhere?"

Nightwing shrugged, letting it ripple all over him, where, it should be eminently clear, there was no place for a first-aid kit.

"Figures," Red Hood muttered.

Nightwing set his hip against the wall, not close enough to get in range of Hood's vicious front kick, but close enough to throw an electrified escrima stick at him if necessary. Black Bat was ten minutes away, as was Robin with the Batmobile. Ideally they would get this sorted before Batman was finished and could become involved. He just had to stall for ten - no, nine minutes now. With an on-edge Hood who had killed - no, executed - executed three people.

Hood nodded at the table.

Nightwing raised an eyebrow.

"Why I did it," Hood said. "Since you asked. I'd offer tea and scones with 'em but whoopsy, seems like I'm all out."

A quick flick of his eyes showed three neat nondescript folders. He'd have to put his back to Hood to read them.

Eight minutes.

"Not much of a reader, me," Nightwing drawled. "Why don't you give me the Sparknotes version?"

Hood snorted. He finally lit the cigarette. "Cappello's wife begged me to," he said.

Nightwing tensed.

"Had a porn ring, she said. He's a cop though, so she couldn't get away. Then her girl got old enough to contribute and she just wanted him dead," he said, sounding... exhausted. "Watson was a pimp too. The women told me that he was okay for a bit and then he got greedy and things got worse. Tried putting the fear of Hood into him at first but he'd heard that I was with the Bats, so he just beat them to shut them up after I left. Had some Family connections too, FBI fuckers wouldn't touch him."

He stopped, took a puff at his cigarette.

Seven minutes

Dick was abruptly tired. The Rogues were one thing. But this. These horrors of America's crime capital were unending. A man could die trying to hold them up.

"And Stewart? He was in jail," Dick said.

Jason smoked his cigarette slowly. It was a Marlboro Red Long. Still the same cigarette.

Six minutes

"Stewart, Danny M.," Jason said. "He'd been in juvie, you know? Got off after three months on 'count of good behavior. Kept the connections though. Plenty of connections in his jail too, enough to keep his little racket in the juvies running. And who cares if some street rat with a record goes missing from time to time. Mayor probably called it housekeeping when he took the money from him."

"And so it's got to be you who actually cleans house instead?" Dick asked, wishing he could throw his sticks at Jason, wishing he could put them down and- and?

"Who else do they got?" Jason asked, squinting at Dick. "I tried doing it the other way for a bit, y'know," he said, almost sympathetically.

"Right," Dick said. "For all of five minutes."

Five minutes

Jason shrugged. "Bit more'n that. But yeah, people would come to me and beg me to help them, rescue them, and I'd get these fuckers sent to places that would -- like, pedos don't last long in jail, y'get me? Or sometimes I'd just bribe the jail catering to give them something. But then people stopped being afraid of me, and it all got worse. Twice the effort for less than half the results. I didn't have any control over the trades here anymore, arms trafficking had gone up, they'd started human trafficking again."

Jason had just been killing people anyway. Of course he had.

"You thought that was the other way? Bribing other people to kill..." Dick wanted to bash his face in. "You thought that was right?"

"I'm not the one who does the right thing," Jason said. "That's on you, Big Bird. I'm just the one filling in the gaps the light doesn't reach."

"That's an easy fucking excuse," Dick bit out.

Four minutes

"All these people suffering, and I was sitting with my thumbs up my ass because I wanted a family, while they were losing theirs, how was that right?" Jason continued, like he hadn't heard Dick. "I'd been brought back to do one job, and I couldn't do it, because I was desperate to--" there was a tear at the end of one eye.

"That's not-" Dick gasped, "this isn't what you were brought back for! That's not true."

Jason shook his head. "You don't know that. You don't know how I was brought back."

"Neither do you!" Dick snarled at this nonsense, now wishing he really had just bashed his head in.

"Nah, but I know what it was for," Jason said, oddly peaceable. "I know what I gotta do, and then I can die."

"You can still stop," Dick pleaded, afraid suddenly, of something he couldn't name.

Three minutes

"Nah," Jason said, sad but placid. "There ain't no way but this for me anymore. Sorry, Big Bird. I'll miss you though. I'll miss most of you, I think."

"And now I've got to bring you in," Dick said, voice cracking. "Did you think of that? That now I've got to-"

"Can't let you do that, 'm afraid, still got a job to do," Jason said, half-smile on his face, turning to him finally, pushing off the ledge and moving forward, dropping the cigarette on the table.

Two minutes

Dick squeezed his sticks but didn't raise them. Jason moved swiftly, grabbing his face roughly and leaning down - because he was taller now, because he wasn't the little wing yearning to reach five foot, because he had died - to roughly kiss Dick's forehead. "Take care of yourself, Robin," he whispered and then shoved Dick back.

Dick had tensed in preparation but was still shoved back by Jason's sheer strength. By the time he leapt forward, Jason had thrown himself out of the window. The red Bat wasn't on his armor anymore.

Dick glanced out of the window just long enough to see Jason tumbling into a red moving truck. Then he sensed something and abruptly looked up to see the cigarette had lit up the files unnaturally well, as if they already had a flammable coating. This seemed to trigger some other mechanism, and the building slowly started going down - making a groaning noise as if in warning.

One minute

Dick unhooked his grapple and dived out, landing lightly on the Batmobile as the building slowly but surely came crashing down, so thoroughly destroyed that there was no way anything could be rebuilt again.

I give you back 1948.   

I give you all the years from then

to the coming one. Give me back the moon   

with its frail light falling across a face.

Give me back my young brother, hard

and furious, with wide shoulders and a curse   

for God and burning eyes that look upon   

all creation and say, You can have it.

[ichimerapunk]

Scene/ part of a story idea I want to put into a fanfic somewhere at some point

So, Danny had been staying with the Waynes. One evening without warning the GIW show up and managed to brute force their way into the manor and past Alfred just long enough to take down Danny and take off with him into one of several white vans of theirs.

The Bats, who had just left for their nightly patrol, give chase. However right before they catch up to the vans booking it out of Gotham, an 18 wheeler pulls out in front of the vans blocking their way. As several of agents pile out to confront the driver (and then pull out their guns when the truck is empty), they don’t automatically notice as the agents that were in the van containing Danny are yeeted out of the vehicle, unconscious.

The remaining agents turn in time to see what appears to be Danny being carried off by another ghost. The remaining agents pile into the remaining vans and take off down a side road to follow them. Jason and Dick are ordered to follow them. At the same time the doors of the remaining van close and Dan behind the wheel takes off.

With Sam giving directions over comms and Tucker manipulating traffic lights Dan intentionally gets as many cops as possible on his tail, driving the van just how his dad taught him in the GAV. The cops are quickly joined by Tim on his bike. During the chase Barbara manages to hack into the signals of whoever had been changing the lights and, through abnormal static, heard several voices coordinating their every move. After catching the attention of enough cops, Dan, while evading but not losing them, books it towards where the remaining vans are still chasing who they think is Danny. Dan catches up to them under an underpass/ short tunnel and uses a brief moment of being obscured by the police to wedge himself in amongst them. [Basically, take the opening chase scene from Baby Driver for the most part; I’m unashamedly taking inspiration from that.]

The vans are all unmarked and have tinted windows. The police have no way of quickly discerning which van they had been chasing down and so the now large number of police surround and forcibly stop all them. (Enjoy getting tied up with that mess for a while, agents.) As they are being stopped, Tim jumps off his bike and runs to the one he knows Danny was in only to just in time see someone that looked like Danny, but had long hair and eyes that turned from blue to red, disappear without a trace.

Above them, the two fleeing figures also disappear. Dani/Ellie* had been dressed as Danny and had been carried by a Dan duplicate. Back near where the chaos happened, Jazz slips out of her hiding spot in the shadows struggling with an unconscious and injured Danny. As soon as she slips out of her hiding spot, Batman appears having not been fooled by the distractions.  

…

That’s the basic rough idea of it. I don’t know if this scene sounds at all as epic and cool as I imagine it to be. I think hope it could actually be pretty cool if I can manage to write an action scene.

*Not sure which I would go with in the story

[ghostlyglimmer]

The Fun Zone Part 7

You can find more chapters here

Summary:

Danny Fenton’s part-time job at The Fun Zone—a chaotic arcade and entertainment center that’s secretly a gang front—was going great until a certain vigilante stormed in to shut the place down.

Danny was pretty sure this job was going to be the death of him—not because of the usual chaos, but because he was now wearing a giant, fluorescent green dog mascot costume. His coworker, Kenny, who usually handled mascot duties for the birthday parties, had called out sick, leaving Danny to reluctantly pick up the slack.

“It’s just for a few hours,” Jason had said, smirking as Danny reluctantly pulled on the oversized costume. “And hey, maybe it’ll teach you some humility.”

Danny had glared at him through the oversized eyeholes. “If I trip and break my neck, you’re paying my medical bills.”

Jason shrugged. “Don’t trip, then.”

Now, Danny was waddling around the arcade, high-fiving kids with the floppy dog paws and trying not to pass out in the sauna-like suit.

“Best. Job. Ever,” Danny muttered under his breath as a gaggle of kids tugged on his tail.

It was during one such tail-tugging session that the doors to The Fun Zone burst open with a loud bang. Danny turned toward the noise, his oversized head wobbling precariously, to see a man striding in with an air of menace. The villain was decked out in a patchwork of metallic armor and wielding a high-tech laser gun.

“Alright, everyone!” the man bellowed. “This is a robbery! Hand over your wallets, your jewelry, and all your tokens!”

Danny sighed, shaking his giant dog head. Of course. Of course this would happen while I’m dressed in a glorified fursuit.

The parents and kids screamed, scattering like bowling pins. From behind the counter, one of Danny’s coworkers hit the silent alarm to alert Jason, who was in the back office. But Danny didn’t have time to wait.

The villain, apparently pleased with the chaos, aimed his laser gun at the prize counter. “Nobody move, or the claw machine gets it!”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Not on my watch, tin man.”

The villain turned, clearly not expecting the giant dog mascot to step forward. “What the—?”

Danny didn’t give him a chance to finish. He lunged forward with surprising speed, tackling the man to the ground. The villain’s laser gun clattered to the floor, and Danny started wailing on him with his oversized paws.

“What the hell is happening?” the villain shouted, trying to fend off the flurry of punches.

“Bad dog!” Danny growled, punctuating each word with a swing. “Don’t mess with The Fun Zone!”

Meanwhile, in the back office, Jason’s security monitors lit up with the scene of a green dog mascot absolutely demolishing the armored villain in the middle of the arcade. Jason froze for a moment, trying to process what he was seeing. Then, with a muttered curse, he grabbed his helmet and weapons, bolting toward the front.

By the time Jason arrived, the villain was barely conscious, his armor dented and scratched from the mascot’s relentless assault. Danny was standing over him, panting slightly as he adjusted the dog head that had started to slip to one side. "Guess his bark is worse than his bite." Danny panted.

Jason stared, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement under his hood. “Fenton, what the hell are you doing?”

Danny turned, his giant dog head bobbing awkwardly. “What does it look like? I’m protecting company assets.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the groaning villain on the floor. “You’re beating a guy half to death in a dog costume.”

“Yeah, well,” Danny said, crossing his floppy arms. “He was threatening the claw machine. Nobody threatens the claw machine.”

Jason blinked, then burst out laughing, the sound muffled but unmistakable. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re welcome,” Danny said, his voice muffled by the dog head. “Now, can you call the cops or something? This suit smells like sweat and regret, and I’d like to take it off before I suffocate.”

Jason shook his head, still chuckling as he cuffed the villain and hauled him to his feet. “Sure thing, Fenton. But I’m never letting you live this down.”

Danny groaned, waddling back toward the staff room to peel off the costume. “This job gets dumber every day.”

As the villain was dragged away, one of the kids who had been hiding behind the arcade machines piped up. “That was awesome! The dog is a superhero!”

Danny sighed from the breakroom. “I hate this city.”

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass 9 part 3

Masterpost

TW for canon-typical violence under the read more, minor character death

Unfortunately, there was so only so much Danny could stretch out his production process when Brick started hovering over his shoulder. Brick didn’t seem that bright, if Danny was honest. But he was clearly on the lookout for foot-dragging. 

That meant Danny was mostly done with the outer casing on the second cannon when Brick looked up abruptly and cursed. Brick pulled a gun out of his pocket and pointed it at Danny.

Danny was still busy soldering metal and it took him a few seconds to parse that he was supposed to be under threat right now. He blinked at Brick. “...Sorry, what?”

“Sack of shit!” Brick cursed, lip curled up. His silly little mustache rotated and stuck out at a weird angle. His eyes were wild. “Who did you tell?”

Danny shrugged awkwardly. Should he like, pretend he was afraid of the gun? Should he defend himself? He looked down at his soldering gun. Um. He probably, uh, shouldn’t… use that on Brick, right? It wasn’t like the guy could do anything to him.

Brick jabbed the gun further into Danny’s personal space. Brick’s head exploded with red mush.

Danny blinked.

Brick slumped to the floor. The gun clattered away. Blood gushed furiously across the floor and immediately ruined Danny’s shoes. Fuck. Brick’s soul sputtered in consideration of evolution. It pulsed, once, twice, and then harmlessly dissolved, passing onto the next life without all the drama of becoming restless dead.

…Lucky.

Danny turned off the soldering gun and pushed up the protective eye mask he had on for work with a disgusted grunt. Between that and the breathing protection, there wasn’t much of Brick on him except in his hair. Oh. No. He made a face and wiped at his forehead with the back of a sleeve before anything could get into his eyes. Brick was dripping down his forehead, nasty!! 

A gun cocked. “Yeah, yeah,” Danny acknowledged. He huffed and leaned over to grab at a shop rag. “Ugh!” He did his best to clean up. “This is gross. Just plain gross,” he bitched.

Footsteps walked down the metal stairs. “You work for me now,” said someone else that Danny had never seen before. Bigger guy. Older, ugly. He was balding and slightly gone to seed. Danny wasn’t exactly charmed.

Danny grunted. “My rate is 70 an hour,” he said. It had been 50 for the last group, but clearly his reputation had gone around enough for him to be recruited.

The gun pressed up against his forehead. “No, it’s not.” 

“Yeah, it fucking is, and I need $14 right now to go to the laundromat.” Danny made a gimme gesture. He ignored the gun to his head and jutted his chin out, ready for an argument. “You’re going to get rid of that, right? I do not do body disposal. I don’t have relevant expertise. That would be a sucky reason to get caught by the cops.”

The thug laughed. He put his gun back in his pocket and casually kicked at the recently emptied body. “I like you, kid,” he said genially. “Sure. I’ll tell the boss your rate. And I can get your laundry done. Don’t want your Mom to see you covered in blood?” He laughed again, like the thought of a teenager having to hide their criminal involvement was somehow funny.

Danny shrugged, not quite willing to lie that the feeling was mutual. This guy seemed like a dick.

“What’s this?” The new guy started nosing through the worktable, getting his grubby hands all over Danny’s beautiful new bazooka. He hefted it up and pointed it at Danny with a mean little smile. “What’s this do?”

Danny tried very hard not to go stiff. For the very first time, it occurred to him that he might be walking a little too close to the fire by making weapons that he could be harmed by. “Matter displacement tech,” he said casually. “Works on shit like doors.”

“Doors, huh.”

“Yupp.” 

At this range, it would displace most of Danny’s torso. He tried not to calculate how many days it would take him to regenerate from a hit like that.

The man lifted his eyebrows, but he put the bazooka back down. “You’re pretty unflappable, kid,” he commented. He rifled through Danny’s odds and ends with a careless hand, messing up the neat organization. “Once you’ve finished that, I’ll come back and pay you for it… How many work days is one of these things?”

“Takes about two days to do one solo, can get two done in three days,” Danny said tonelessly. 

His new contact grunted. “We’re going to need weapons from you next,” he said, as if it was just a fact.

“I don’t do weapons,” Danny said. He shrugged. “Sorry, it’s just not my specialty. I can get you the list of specs for what I can do, though, I–”

“You can do weapons,” he got cut off. The older man gave him a disdainful look. “Your girlfriend’s a co-ed, yeah? Cutie. Gotta work like a big man to keep her paid up.” He clapped Danny on the shoulder. “Be smart. I'll send someone to clean up.” He turned on his heel and left.

Danny stood there, taking a few moments to buffer that bullshit. The penny dropped.

‘Ew. Jazz?! They think I’m dating Jazz? That’s nasty.’

…Wait.

‘Oh, fuck. He knows about Jazz. They’re threatening Jazz.’

[bullet-prooflove]

Self Defense: Terry Silver x Reader

Tagging: @volumesofforgottenlore@kmc1989@somethingdarkside17@noonee333

A Loaded Gun - Terry begins to struggle after John Kreese turns up on your doorstep.

Letting Go - It takes you leaving for Terry to realise he needs to make a change.

Stranglehold - Terry begs an unlikely duo for help.

Three Men & A Baby - You discover you're pregnant at an unforunate time.

Terry isn’t home the night that John Kreese tries to kill you. He’s trapped in an LAPD police station with his driver and his lawyer, trying to explain why they found a couple of baggies of coke in his car.

Terry, he hasn’t touched the stuff since the eighties and his driver is as sober as a judge.

“What about your wife?” He’s asked as he sits in an interrogation room, his hands clasped together. “She uses the car too.”

He fixs the officer that’s interviewing him with a hard look.

“My wife has never used coke, she wouldn’t put it anywhere near her body, especially in her current condition.”

He spends hours with his lawyer trying to straighten the whole thing out. When he finally gets home it’s to blue and red flashing lights and his house being cordoned off with crime scene tape. It’s in that moment that he realises that his incarceration tonight, it was entirely by design.

It’s when you’re led out of the house covered in blood, that his heart just dies in this chest. It’s smeared across your face, matted in your hair, the pearl, silk pyjama short set you’re wearing is soaked in it.

There’s fingertip marks already blemishing your delicate throat. Your arms are wrapped protectively around your stomach. It’s the expression on your face that terrifies him, there’s no life in your eyes, no spark, there’s nothing.

He thinks about the sonogram stuck to the fridge, the one of his son at twelve weeks. You were four months along at this point, a small baby bump beginning to show. He wonders if Kreese has taken that from the two of you, if he’s stolen away your baby.

“Georgia.” He says as he ducks under the tape and hurtles towards you. A cop puts his hand on his arm trying to stop him but Terry shakes him off. There is nothing in this world that will prevent him from being with his wife right now.

He rides with you to the hospital in the back of the ambulance, his hand clasping yours and he listens to the litany of injuries. You squeeze his fingers tightly as they reel them off. Concussion, damaged larynx, bruised ribs, laceration to your right hand.

“What about the baby?” You ask, your voice barely more than a rasp.

“I’m sorry Ma’am, they should be able to tell you at the hospital.” The paramedic says apologetically.

It’s a few hours later after you’ve given your statement to the police that you tell Terry what happened, about how you killed John Kreese in self defence. The two of you are in a private room, the lights turned down low. Terry’s sitting on the hospital bed with you, your entire body curled up against him as his fingertips comb soothingly through your hair. You feel so small in his arms, so fragile.

“I woke up with his hands around my throat.” You tell him, your voice devoid of emotion. “He was surprised when I broke free, that I fought back. Danny and Johnny, they taught me what to do if…”

You trail off, your grip on his shirt tightening just a little. Terry has never felt as grateful as he does in this moment for those two men.

“I broke a glass in the scuffle, we ended up on the floor. He got his hands back on my throat, slammed my head against the hardwood. I was starting to blackout when my hand found the glass and I just… I stabbed him in the neck and I kept stabbing him until he stopped, I just wanted him to stop.”

Your voice breaks then and Terry can’t stand it. He gathers you up even closer, his lips brushing over your hairline. Your hand comes to rest on the small baby bump, smoothing over the space where your son resides.

“I kept thinking about Sebastian, how he wouldn’t get to meet you.”  

Terry’s hand covers yours and he thinks of the tiny life nestled inside of you, the one that survived despite all odds.

He’s a fighter, his son, just like his mother, like his father.

“You’re going to stay here with me tonight?” You ask him as his fingertips caress your stomach. “With us?”

“Yes my love.” He whispers as he tips your chin up to meet his gaze. “I’m never leaving you alone again.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 16

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : WARNINGS WILL GIVE SPOILERS !!! MDNI, mentions of drugs, selling drugs, angst, cursing, mentions of death, guns, shooting

Chris’s POV

I didn’t wake up until 3pm, sunlight streaming through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. My body ached like I’d been hit by a truck, but the heaviness wasn’t just physical, it was mental too. The events from last night lingered in my mind like smoke, refusing to clear.

Reaching for my phone on the nightstand, I saw a notification from Y/n, her name lighting up the screen. She’d replied to my late night text at 7am , like the early riser she was:

"Probably won’t be finished until 6, but I’d love to meet you after! Can’t wait. xx"

A grin spread across my face as I read her message. Y/n had quickly become the best part of my life, the one constant that kept me grounded in the midst of the chaos. Knowing she wanted to see me, even after last night when I’d left her house abruptly, made me feel.. normal. Like I was just a guy with a girlfriend, looking forward to dinner or a drive. Not a dealer. Not someone neck deep in this life.

But then my mind shifted, and I couldn’t help but think about Nate. He’d been heavy on my thoughts since the funeral, and not just because of Danny. After last night’s incident at the docks, I wondered if he knew what had happened. Did Vince fill him in? Did he know I’d gotten into a fight with an H Block, or was he still in the dark?

I sat up, tossing my phone on the bed and running my hands through my hair. I needed to see him. Nate wasn’t the type to reach out, even when things got tough, but I couldn’t let him spiral alone. The weight of Danny’s death was already crushing enough. Add in everything else going on with the cartel, and I knew he was probably close to his breaking point.

Grabbing my jacket, I slipped on my sneakers and headed out the door. Driving to Nate’s place, I tried to clear my mind, but the tension in my chest wouldn’t go away. I kept thinking about last night, the way I fucked up that H Block guy, the adrenaline that surged as Vince encouraged me to keep going. That’s what haunted me most. I’d crossed a line, one that was getting harder to ignore.

When I pulled up to Nate’s place, something felt.. off. I spotted a black sedan parked a couple of houses down, its windows tinted. It wasn’t a car I recognized, and that alone was enough to make me suspicious. Nate’s neighborhood wasn’t exactly known for flashy cars, most of the people here drove old Hondas or pickups.

I stayed in the car for a moment, watching. No movement. No one got in or out of the sedan. Maybe someone swung by to pay respects to Danny. Maybe it was a cop since Danny’s death was now a murder investigation, after all. Or maybe it was something worse, like someone from H Block scoping out Nate’s place.

Shaking my head, I grabbed my phone and sent Nate a quick text:

"I’m outside. Want to go for a ride?"

No reply. I waited a minute, then another, my fingers drumming on the steering wheel. Finally, the front door creaked open, and Nate stepped out. The sun was low on the horizon, casting the street in an orange glow as he walked toward the car. He looked rough, dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped like the weight of the world was crushing him.

I nodded at him, and he climbed into the passenger seat without a word.

“What’s up?” I asked as we pulled away from the curb.

He shrugged, staring out the window. “Not much.”

I glanced at him, trying to gauge his mood. “You look like shit, man.”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, it’s been a shit week.”

“How you holding up?” I asked, trying to break the silence.

Nate shrugged, still not looking at me. “Same as you’d expect. Just tired of everything.”

I didn’t push him, giving him a moment to collect his thoughts. After a minute, I asked, “You figure out who it was that tried to make the hit at the funeral?”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Yeah. But no idea who he’s connected to. Guess he thought he’d make a name for himself, going after us at Danny’s funeral of all places.” He paused, clenching his fists. “But he’s gone now. Fled the city. No one can find him, but I’m not worried. He’ll show his face eventually. When he does, I’ll handle it.”

I didn’t doubt that. Nate wasn’t the kind of guy to let things go, not when it came to family.

“What about Danny?” I asked carefully, keeping my eyes on the road as I drove. “You guys got any leads on his murder? Pieced together what happened that night?”

Nate leaned back in his seat, running a hand over his face. “Not much, but Vince gave me some details. Danny was found outside the warehouse at the docks.” He turned to look at me, his face grim. “Vince was one of the first on the scene, but he couldn’t stay. He got some of the guys to move Danny’s body before the cops could get there and start poking around.”

My stomach twisted. “Why’d they move him?”

Nate scoffed, his tone bitter. “Why do you think? The warehouse is full of supplies. Cops start sniffing around there, and it’s game over for us. Vince didn’t have a choice. Told everyone to play it like Danny was shot somewhere else, that they drove him to the hospital but died on the way.”

I tightened my grip on the wheel, my knuckles going white. The thought of Danny’s body being dragged around like that made me sick.

Nate continued, his voice low and cold. “Hospital bought it. Cops bought it too, at least for now. They think he was killed in the middle of nowhere. But we know the truth.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, suffocating. My mind raced, piecing together the events. “Say it was one of those H Block fucks” I said, my voice coming out harsher than I intended. “What if someone from their crew was trying to break into the warehouse and Danny just happened to be there at the wrong time?”

Nate frowned, turning to me with suspicion. “What makes you say that?”

I hesitated, debating whether to tell him the truth. “Because I ran into one of them there last night” I admitted, my voice low. “Caught some guy trying to steal our supplies. Vince told me to handle it, so I did. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? If they’re getting bold enough to hit the funeral, they’d try the warehouse too.”

Nate’s jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened with anger. “You think it’s connected?”

“I don’t know” I admitted. “But it feels too close to ignore.”

Nate didn’t say anything for a while, his gaze fixed on the horizon as the sun dipped lower. “We’ll find out” he said finally, his voice hard. “One way or another, we’ll find out who did this. And when we do..”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. The fury in his voice said it all.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. The weight of what had happened was sinking in deeper, but I couldn’t let it consume me. Not now. Not when there was still so much left to unravel.

"Wait, the fuck were you doing at the docks last night? Thought you had a dinner to attend?" Nate says, raising an eyebrow as I pull into a gas station.

I sigh, pulling the car to a stop near the pump. "And I did attend that dinner" I reply, stepping out. "But Vince pulled me out early. Needed me for a run. Ended up partaking in a physical fight, too. Exactly how I wanted to spend my Thursday night."

Nate lets out a dry laugh, leaning back in his seat. "Makes two of us in physical fights last night. At least I didn’t get my lip split open." Nate smirks, grabbing at my face.

I smirk, rubbing my thumb over the slight sting still lingering on my lip. "I thought you said the guy fled town? Who the hell were you fighting?"

"Three H Block runners" Nate says nonchalantly. "Teenagers. Just needed to let some anger out. Came out without a scratch."

Typical Nate. I chuckle under my breath, shaking my head as I open the door and step out of the car. He doesn’t do things halfway. I start pumping gas, my mind replaying the fight from last night. As much as I wanted to forget it, the tension wouldn’t leave my body.

After filling up, I walk into the convenience store to pay. The fluorescent lights buzz above as I hand over a twenty and grab a bottle of water for the road. Stepping back outside, my eyes instinctively scan the lot.

That’s when I notice it. a black sedan parked by the pumps a few spaces away. It’s the same type I saw near Nate’s house earlier. My stomach twists.

Has to be a coincidence, I think to myself, trying to shake off the paranoia. Now that I’ve seen one, I’m probably just noticing them everywhere.

The thought lingers, though, as I slide back into the driver’s seat. I glance at the time. 5:30pm. Almost time to pick up Y/n.

"You need me to bring you anywhere before I drop you off?" I ask Nate casually, adjusting my rearview mirror.

"Where you headed?" he asks, cracking his window and lighting a cigarette.

"I'm picking my girlfriend up at six." I say, sliding it in with just the right amount of smugness.

Nate’s head snaps toward me so fast I almost laugh. "Girlfriend?!" he repeats, his tone a mix of disbelief and amusement. "You kept that quiet."

I grin, knowing exactly how surprised he must be. "Didn’t come up."

He shakes his head, a sly smirk creeping onto his face. "Man, you soft now, huh?” 

“Maybe” I chuckle. “But if any questions are ever asked about this, say you and I got into it okay?” I say pointing at my lip.

“Is that what you told her?” Nate raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah man, couldn’t tell her I had someone pull a knife on me. She’d flip. She doesn’t know about the whole incident at the funeral, fuck, she didn’t even know about the funeral. You love to carry a knife on you too, so it check out in my brain.” I say shaking my head.

“God you’re in this thing a couple weeks and couples therapy is already calling.” Nate laughs.

Y/n’s POV

The courtroom had been stifling all day, and I was practically counting the minutes until I could leave. My phone buzzed just as I was tucking my notes and books into my bag.

"I'm out front. Take your time x."

A smile broke across my face as I read Chris’s message. This day had dragged on relentlessly, and I couldn’t wait to see him. Just the thought of being in his company made everything feel lighter.

I made my way out of the courtroom and through the courthouse doors, the crisp evening air hitting me as I spotted Chris’s sleek Mercedes parked at the curb. He looked out through the passenger window and his face lit up when he saw me approaching.

As soon as I got in the passenger seat, I leaned over to kiss him, melting into his warmth.

“It’s so nice to see you” he said softly, his eyes holding mine for a moment longer than usual.

“It’s nice to see you too” I replied, buckling my seatbelt.

He started the car, the low hum of the engine filling the space. “Where do you want to get food from?” he asked, glancing at me.

I didn’t have to think long. “Honestly? I’m really feeling McDonald’s right now.”

Chris laughed, his expression a mix of amusement and fondness. “If McDonald’s is what my girl wants, McDonald’s is what my girl gets.”

I couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t fancy, but I loved how he always made me feel like my choices mattered.

We headed to the nearest McDonald’s, sliding into the drive thru line. After some playful back and forth, we decided on a 20 piece chicken nugget meal with sweet and sour sauce, paired with two Pepsi’s.

When we reached the pickup window, the smell of fresh fries filled the car, making my stomach growl.

“You better not eat all the fries before we park” I teased, reaching for a couple as he handed me the bag.

“Hey, we both know fries have a lifespan of, like, five minutes” Chris shot back, smirking as he grabbed a few for himself.

We drove to Castle Island, the sky was now pitch black. Chris pulled into a quiet spot near the water, cutting the engine. The world felt still except for the occasional rustle of the trees and the distant sound of waves.

We opened the bag and dug in, alternating between nuggets and fries, laughing as we both reached for the sweet and sour sauce at the same time. It was simple, but moments like this with Chris always felt special.

“This is perfect” I said, leaning back against the seat, the salty tang of fries lingering on my tongue.

Chris glanced over at me, a small smile playing on his lips. “You make everything perfect.”

I felt my cheeks flush as I nudged him playfully. “You’re so cheesy.”

He chuckled, but his eyes softened. “Only for you.”

Chris smirked, tossing another nugget into his mouth as he turned to look at me. "I love having you as my passenger princess," he said, his tone light and teasing.

I laughed, shaking my head. "Passenger princess? Really?"

"Yup" he said with a grin. Then his expression shifted slightly, like he’d been meaning to bring something up. "Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you something, do you drive?"

I couldn’t help but laugh at the question. "Can I? Yes. Can I legally? No."

Chris raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Wait, what? Why not?"

"My driving test is coming up soon" I admitted. "I never really needed to know how to drive until we moved out of the city. So I only started learning recently. But honestly, the thought of the test freaks me out."

Chris chuckled, his smile softening. "That’s kinda cute. Don’t stress about it, though. And, for the record, I have no problem driving you around. I’d take you over Nate any day."

I grinned at his playful jab. "Speaking of Nate, have you talked to him since the whole argument?"

Chris nodded, his eyes flicking to the water outside the windshield before meeting mine again. "Uh yeah.. I was actually with him before I came to meet you. Everything’s cool now."

I nodded back, taking in his response. I hesitated for a moment, but curiosity got the better of me. There were questions I’d been holding back for a while, and now felt like the right time to ask. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course" he said, tilting his head slightly, his expression open.

"So.. in the gang or whatever you call it," I started cautiously, "is there anyone else like you and Nate in it?"

Chris paused, wiping his hands on a napkin before leaning back in his seat. "Age wise, you mean?"

I nodded, watching him closely as he mulled over the question.

He shrugged, his tone casual, but there was a faint edge to it. "Nah, not really. It’s just me and Nate in our 20’s. He’s the youngest, and I’m only a year older. Everyone else is in their thirties or forties or older."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Seriously? Just the two of you? That’s.. a little unexpected."

Chris considers this for a moment, looking out toward the horizon before turning back to me. "Yeah it can be weird sometimes. But Nate and I stick together. It’s not like the older guys treat us badly or anything, they just see us as the runners, not the ones calling the shots."

I nod again, chewing on his words, a tangle of thoughts forming in my mind. I decide to push some of the heavier ones aside, for now, focusing on enjoying this moment with him.

"You and Nate have always been close, though."

Chris smiled faintly, his eyes softening at the mention of his best friend. "Yeah, we are. He’s like a brother to me. Sometimes I just wish he’d get out of this life, you know? But I don’t think he’ll ever change his ways."

I wanted to tell him that he deserved better, that they both did, but I held back. Instead, I leaned into the moment, savoring the way he’s starting to open up to me.

"Well" I said softly, "I’m glad you two are okay now. And for what it’s worth, I like seeing this side of you, open, honest. It makes me feel closer to you."

Chris looked at me, his expression shifting to something tender and unguarded. "You’re the only person I feel like I can talk to like this" he admitted.

My heart swelled at his words, and I reached for his hand, threading my fingers through his.

We sat there in the car, the last of the fries growing cold as the conversation shifted back to lighter topics. But deep down, I felt like something had shifted between us, a step closer to understanding each other’s worlds, even if they were still so far apart.

"Can we go back.. to yours?" I asked softly, trying to keep my voice light, not wanting to come across as invasive. "I mean, I want to make the effort with your family, like you have with mine."

There was a brief silence before Chris responded, his voice a little uncertain. "Uh.. yeah, sure."

His hesitation wasn’t lost on me, and I quickly added, "If it’s too much, it’s okay, I just thought I could get to know your world a little better."

I saw his lips tighten slightly, and he turned toward me with an almost apologetic look. "No, it’s fine. It’s just.. it’s nothing compared to what you live in. Your house is so pristine and presentable.. whereas Uncle Jerry’s place, well.." His voice trailed off, the words left unfinished, as if he didn’t want to insult his uncle’s place.

My heart tugged at the mention of his uncle. I knew Chris had a complicated relationship with his family. He’d told me before that after his own family cut him off, he’d been staying with Uncle Jerry. I reached over, placing my hand gently on his arm. "That doesn’t matter to me, Chris. I just want to be with you, wherever that is."

He looked at me, his eyes softening, and I could see a faint relief in his expression. But then, I felt the need to add something else, something I’d been thinking about for a while. "And besides, I was thinking, when you’re out of all this, maybe you could try reaching out to your family. Maybe try rebuilding those connections."

Chris’s face hardened for a second, and he seemed to retreat inward. I held my breath, not sure if I’d crossed a line, but then he exhaled slowly, looking out the window.

"I don’t know, Y/n" he said quietly. "I dont know if they’ll ever accept me back. Not after everything." His tone was guarded, but I could hear the underlying pain.

I squeezed his arm, my voice gentle. "You never know. People change, Chris. And you’ve changed, too. I just think, maybe.. they might not be so quick to turn their backs on you if they see that."

He didn’t answer right away, and the silence between us stretched for a few moments. I wasn’t sure what was going on in his head, but I didn’t press further. I could see he needed time to process it.

Instead, I smiled at him, trying to lighten the mood. "But hey, it’ll be an adventure, right? Going to Uncle Jerry’s place?"

Chris smirked, his eyes flicking toward me. "Yeah, if you call it that. You’re really sure you want to see where I grew up?"

I nodded, my expression sincere. "Absolutely. I want to know all of you, Chris."

A genuine smile spread across his face then, and he leaned over to kiss my forehead lightly. "Alright. Let’s go then."

We both settled into a comfortable silence as he started the car again, the city slipping away as we headed toward his uncle’s place. And though I didn’t know exactly what would happen when we arrived, I knew one thing for sure, I was ready to be there for him, just like he had been for me.

Chris’ POV

As we pulled up outside my uncle Jerry’s place on Medford Street, I couldn’t help but shake my head. The house didn’t exactly scream "homey" and in the low light, it looked even worse than usual. "It looks like a right trap house, doesn’t it?" I said, laughing under my breath, but my words carried that familiar bitterness.

Y/n, always the optimist, tried to reassure me. "It’s not that bad" she insisted, but I could tell by the look on her face that she was still taking in the sight of the place.

I just hoped Jerry wasn’t asleep on the couch. I wouldn't want to subject her to that, she didn’t need to see the way he lived. Shit, I barely could stand it myself. I’d hoped he’d be passed out in his room, preferably not stirring when we came in.

I reached over and unlocked the front door, the sound of the key turning in the lock echoing through the stillness of the night. The house was dark, which was perfect. The less Y/n saw of the chaos, the better. Exactly what I wanted, since you can’t see shit.

We stepped inside, the heavy smell of old furniture and stale air hitting me immediately. The house was quiet, too quiet. Jerry’s room was at the back, and the living room was to the left, with the usual mess of old magazines, fast food containers, and a busted-up couch. I wanted to get us to my room as quickly as possible, where things were.. more put together.

Since Jerry’s place was a bungalow, there wasn’t much to navigate. It was basically a long stretch with rooms off to the side. I led Y/n to the right, to the first door that opened to my room. I flicked the light switch, the soft glow illuminating the space, and I motioned for Y/n to come inside.

"This is where I crash" I said, trying to sound casual, but there was a tinge of pride in my voice. Compared to the rest of the house, my room was pristine and presentable. I kept it clean, I had to, if only to feel like I had something that was mine.

Y/n took a moment to look around, and I could see her eyes soften as she surveyed the room. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. A small bed, a desk neatly organised with books, and a few pictures hang on the wall. Nothing fancy, but it was a place where I could think, breathe, and for the first time in a while, I felt comfortable with her being there.

"Make yourself at home" I said, closing the door behind us. The place was quieter, calmer than the chaos outside, and it felt like a bit of peace.

I watched as Y/n moved around the room, touching a few things here and there, but not too much, respecting the space. I felt a sense of pride surge through me. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was a part of me, and in that moment, it was enough.

Y/n had sat down beside me on the edge of the bed, her legs tucked under her as she glanced around my small, dimly lit room. I could feel her eyes lingering on the few personal touches I had scattered around, nothing flashy, just things that made this place feel like mine. And for some reason, having her here with me felt different than anyone else ever had.

"You know" she said softly, breaking the silence. "I’ve been thinking a lot about the future lately."

I turned to look at her, my heart tightening at the way she spoke. "What do you mean?" I asked, leaning back slightly on the bed to face her more fully.

She shifted, pulling her knees to her chest as she glanced down, then back at me. "I mean.. us. What we’re doing. What it all looks like in the long run. You know, once this.. all this.. is behind you." She gestured vaguely, the weight of what I was involved in hanging heavy between us. "I can’t help but picture us, together, in the future. Somewhere.. where we can just breathe. You and me."

My chest tightened, a lump forming in my throat. I knew what she meant, and honestly, I’d never really let myself think about it, about a future, about a life with her outside of everything that dragged me down. But hearing her say it out loud made it feel real. It made it seem possible.

"I’d like that" I said softly, my voice hoarse, vulnerable. "I’d like to have a future with you. Somewhere.. just us. Away from all this shit."

Her eyes softened, and she moved closer, settling in beside me on the bed. There was a quiet kind of understanding between us, the unspoken bond growing stronger with each moment. She leaned into me, her head finding its place against my shoulder. "We’ll get there" she whispered. "We just have to take it one step at a time, right?"

I nodded, my hand finding its way to her back, pulling her a little closer, the warmth of her body grounding me in a way I didn’t know I needed. My hand slid to her side, fingers gently tracing the curve of her waist as we sat in the comfortable silence.

Then, without even thinking about it, I turned to her. Her face was close, the soft curve of her lips tempting, and before I could stop myself, I leaned in, pressing my lips to hers. The kiss was slow, tentative at first, like we were both still figuring out what this was, what we meant to each other. But the longer it lasted, the deeper it became, until there was no space left between us.

I felt her hands move to my chest, pushing me gently backwards, and before I knew it, she was straddling me, her legs draped on either side, her breath coming out in soft, shallow gasps against my lips. I couldn’t help but feel a rush of heat flood through me, my heart racing as I looked up at her. There was a wildness to the moment, an urgency, but it felt right, like everything had led up to this. To us.

Her hands moved to my shoulders, then down to my chest, her touch sending electricity through me. My hands found their way to her hips, pulling her in closer, the warmth of her body against mine driving me crazy. But just as I was lost in the moment, just as everything felt like it was finally falling into place, the sudden beep of my phone broke through the haze.

I groaned, pulling away from her reluctantly as I reached for my phone. The alarm was a reminder - a notification for something I couldn’t ignore.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, silencing the alarm. My stomach tightens at the reminder.

“Shit” I mutter.

“Is everything okay?” Y/n asks, tilting her head slightly, her soft expression making me hesitate.

“Yeah.. it’s.. work” I answer, fumbling for the right words.

“Oh” she says, standing up from the bed. I can tell she’s disappointed, though she’s trying to hide it.

“What do you have to do?” she asks quietly, her voice almost reluctant.

I sigh. “I’ve got to deliver some weed. Just a fifty bag, so it’s not much. I can drop you home first, and then go do it. The dude knows me, so he won’t care if I’m a little late.”

“Yeah, that’s okay” she says with a small nod, but her shoulders sag just enough for me to notice. I hate this. Hate that I keep doing this to her.

We make our way out of my house and back to the car. I unlock it, and we both slide into our seats. The engine hums to life as I glance over at her. She’s staring out the window, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her jacket.

“Have you made any attempts to try to leave yet?” she asks suddenly, her tone colder than before.

I grip the steering wheel tighter. “No.. not yet” I admit. “I said two weeks because.. because I have to figure out how to get out. It’s not as easy as just walking away.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, her silence weighing heavy in the car. Finally, she speaks, her voice low.

“Where’s this going to?”

“Longwood” I reply. “Why?”

“You have to go through Longwood to get to my place,” she says, glancing over at me. “Just deliver this off, then drop me home. At least it gives me a bit more time with you.”

I hesitate. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like I’m just throwing you home, either.”

“I’m sure” she says firmly. “Put it this way, it’s probably one of the last runs you’ll ever do, right? I’m glad to be here, ending this part of your life with you.” She gives me a small, reassuring smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

The drive to Longwood is quiet. Occasionally, Y/n hums softly to the radio, but I can tell her mind is elsewhere. Mine is too.

When we arrive, I park a little down the street, avoiding the house. No way am I letting anyone see her here. I text the dude to let him know I’m here, and he replies almost immediately, telling me to meet him around the side of his place. I glance at Y/n sitting in the car, her fingers absentmindedly drumming on her knee as she stares out the window. I glance at her. “I’ll be quick.”

She nods, giving me a faint smile, though the worry in her eyes is unmistakable.

I lock the car behind me as I step out, tucking the fifty bag into my jacket pocket. Walking down the street, I keep glancing over my shoulder, my eyes flickering back to where the car sits. I hate leaving her like this, even for a few minutes.

I round the corner of the guy’s house and stop, positioning myself at the edge where I can still see my car. It’s a habit, maybe paranoia, but with Y/n sitting inside, I can’t take any chances. I lean against the wall, trying to shake the nagging feeling in my chest. I shouldn’t have brought her with me.

The dude comes out from the back of the house, his hoodie pulled up over his head. He nods at me as he approaches.

“Yo” he greets casually, pulling a fifty dollar bill from his pocket and handing it to me.

I slip him the bag of weed in exchange. “All good?”

“Yeah, man. Easy.” he says with a grin before disappearing back into the shadows.

I turn to leave, relief washing over me. Simple. Quick. Just the way I wanted it.

As I step back onto the street, I hear the low rumble of a car creeping slowly toward me. My heart sinks.

A black sedan rolls up, its headlights off. It stops just a few feet from my car, parked awkwardly in the middle of the road.

A black sedan.

Again?

Something’s wrong.

I freeze, watching as the passenger window rolls down ever so slightly. My breath catches when I see it – a hand, pale against the dark, gripping the barrel of a gun.

“Fuck” I whisper, my eyes darting to the car where Y/n is sitting.

Before I can move, the first shot shatters the silence of the night, followed by the sound of breaking glass. My car’s back window explodes into shards, and I hear Y/n’s muffled scream from inside. The sedan’s tires screech as it takes off, leaving the street in chaos.

Fuck. Y/n.

a/n: BUCKLE THE FUCK UP BITCHES

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[raaorqtpbpdy]

Harrowing Holidays

After a few months of dating, Danny invites Jason to Amity Park for Fenton Thanksgiving—both Danny & Jason have convinced themselves, despite all evidence to the contrary, that the other is their normal civilian boyfriend, and don't want to mess things up by revealing their secrets.

Written for the Ghouls and Gangs @dpxdcbigbang with art by @spatulella-art which you should check out on her blog!

Sequel to Bothersome Bonds but can stand on its own.

You can also read Harrowing Holidays on AO3

It was late Saturday morning. Jason was working on his laptop in the living room of his safe house, familiarizing himself with intel his guys had just sent him on a gun-running operation Black Mask was planning so that the Red Hood and his crew could intercept it.

The plan was already forming in his head. Black Mask liked to over-complicate things, to confuse his enemies. But if you knew what he was doing, it was easy to unravel. All Jason had to do was take out one part of the equation and Mask's whole operation crumbled.

"Can you lift your feet for a sec?"

Jason looked up to see his boyfriend, Danny, holding a damp towel, and obligingly removed his feet from the coffee table. Danny wiped down the surface, lifting coasters and books out of the way.

He didn't look to see what Jason was working on.

Even after eight months of being in a relationship, Danny still didn't know about Jason's career as a crime lord. Jason didn't want him to know, and neither did Danny. He said that he wanted plausible deniability if the cops ever came to his door, so he at least had a sense that Jason's work wasn't 100% legal. He had, after all, immediately assumed that Jason was a criminal when he'd said he worked in Crime Alley, and apparently Jason had done nothing to change his mind about that.

Still, Jason liked it that way.

He liked having Danny as his normal, willfully oblivious civilian boyfriend. It was... grounding, in a way. His little slice of ordinary in his otherwise wild and chaotic life.

And if Danny's eyes glowed sometimes, and the air around him was a little bit colder, and he was abnormally light and abnormally strong for someone his size, well... Jason could be willfully oblivious, too, when the need arose.

"What are you cleaning for?" Jason asked. "Expecting company?"

His safe-house may not have been perfectly spotless, but he kept it pretty clean most of the time. There wasn't really any reason for his boyfriend to be wiping down his coffee table. Not that he was going to complain, but he was kind of curious.

Danny shrugged mutely.

In the eight months since they'd both been kidnapped and escaped from that mysterious facility together back in February, Jason had gotten pretty good at reading Danny. Not that it was especially hard to tell when Danny was restless. He would find anything—literally anything—to do with his hands, whether it was cleaning, baking, building a pillow fort, folding origami ghosts—those were pretty cute, actually, and Jason kept a couple in the drawer of his nightstand.

"Danny, I can tell when something's up with you," Jason said, closing his laptop and setting it aside. "If you want to clean my apartment, I'm not gonna stop you, but if something's going on, you can also just talk to me."

He finished wiping the coffee table, then stood up straight and stiff for a few seconds before collapsing onto the couch next to Jason, wringing the towel in his hands.

"Okay, so my parents, right?" Danny started, then he took a deep breath and held it.

Jason had heard a lot about Danny's parents and, at the same time, knew nothing of substance about them at all. He knew that when he was in high school he had not gotten along with them. That, when he was a junior, he'd had a falling out with them about something he refused to tell Jason anything about, and did his best to avoid them, despite still living under their roof, until he turned eighteen and immediately moved out. Jason also knew that in the past year or so, his parents had been trying to mend their relationship with him and vice-versa.

What he didn't know was what they'd fallen out over, or why it had taken them years to try to fix their relationship.

He could make some educated guesses, of course. He knew that, like himself, Danny had died once, and been brought back. For Danny, it had been almost instantaneous, or so he claimed. Jason still wasn't clear on why Danny had an autopsy scar like his own if that was the case. Regardless, Jason knew how that sort of thing could make things complicated with one's family.

"What about them?" Jason prompted when Danny had been silent for several long seconds without continuing.

Danny finally exhaled.

"They asked me to come to Thanksgiving this year," he explained. "They did last year, too, but we'd only been on speaking terms for a couple of weeks at the time, and I told them I wasn't ready to spend any holidays back home yet. This year... this year I thought I was ready, and I told them I would come, and that was two days ago, and now I am second-guessing that decision big time."

Jason nodded thoughtfully. He knew the feeling.

When he'd first met Danny, Jason had been severely on the outs with his family. If he saw any one of them, his vision went green and he could hardly think straight through his rage. That had changed since the two of them first met and started dating.

There was something about Danny that kept the madness from the Lazarus pit under control—even when he wasn't actively with Jason, to a certain extent. It was a small part of why Jason was so drawn to him, and probably a very big part of why their relationship had been able to last as long as it had without Jason royally fucking it up.

A side-effect of that calm that came from spending time with Danny was that Jason had been able to start to reconnect with his family... just a tiny bit... mostly with Alfred. However, he was still angry with them, and he didn't think that was going to go away any time soon—after all, he had plenty of perfectly valid reasons to be angry and have mixed emotions regarding them. Plus, he was still a crime lord and a killer, which they didn't exactly approve of, no matter how much they wanted him to be 'part of the family' again.

But he could talk to them without the pit madness taking over his reason now, though he still didn't exactly want to get close to them. And they had switched from trying to outright stop him, like he was some common crook, to trying to save him, like the beloved but misguided family member they perceived him to be. He didn't actually want to be saved, but of course, they didn't care about that.

Recently, Dick had run into him on patrol and extended an invitation from Alfred to join them for Thanksgiving as well, putting Jason in a very similar conundrum to the one Danny was currently complaining about.

He'd told Dick he would think about it, but all he was really thinking about was how he could get out of it without disappointing Alfred, the only family member whose opinion of Jason still mattered to him. Being able to have short conversations with them without trying to kill them was one thing, but Jason just knew that if he spent a whole day with them, it would inevitably end in a violent screaming match, and that would disappoint Alfred even more than if Jason just ditched.

"You can always call your parents and tell them you changed your mind," Jason pointed out. "They might be a little disappointed, but if they accepted that you weren't ready last year, they'd probably accept it again."

Danny shook his head. "No," he said. "I mean, I'm anxious about it, and it's kind of a big step, but... I think I am ready for it, and... I do miss them. I haven't seen them for a long time."

"Then go," Jason encouraged. Then, seeing an opportunity, he added, "I can go with you, if you want. For moral support or whatever. You clearly want to see them again, you're just nervous about it. Maybe not having to go alone will help."

Plus, it was the perfect excuse for Jason to turn down his own family's Thanksgiving invitation. If he told them things were getting serious enough with his boyfriend that he'd been invited to spend Thanksgiving with him and his family, they'd probably be more happy for him than upset for themselves.

"You would come with me?" Danny asked, sounding rather skeptical. "Are you sure? My family can be... a lot."

"I doubt they're any worse than mine."

"You might be surprised," Danny insisted. "It would be nice to have you with me but... I wouldn't want to risk them scaring you away."

Jason raised an eyebrow, recalling the way they had met, kidnapped and trapped together in some vaguely military facility, and thought that if he was going to be scared away from dating Danny, it would have happened a long time ago.

"I swear on my life, that no matter how bad your family is, I will not allow it to affect my opinion of you," Jason promised. "My birth parents were an abusive prick who worked as a henchman and a bitch who sold me out to the Joker and ultimately got me killed. I have absolutely no grounds to judge you based on your blood relatives."

Danny actually laughed at that, a soft, nervous laugh. "Alright," he agreed. "I'll let my parents know I'll be bringing a guest."

"Can't wait."

Jason had just over a week to inform his own family of why he wouldn't be coming to the Wayne Thanksgiving dinner, but since he refused to let any of them have the number of his burner phone, it wouldn't be so simple as sending them a text.

Luckily, he didn't have to wait long for his chance.

"Hey Hood, fancy seeing you here, in Crime Alley, where you live."

Jason glanced up to see Tim, AKA Robin, sitting on a fire escape looking down at him.

"I could say the same of you, nosing in on my territory heedless of the consequences," he replied. "What brings you here?"

"Intelligence gathering," Tim answered with a shrug.

"Is that your way of saying Agent A wants my answer about Thanksgiving?"

Jason leaned back against the grimy wall of the alleyway to get a better angle to watch the pretender fiddle with his bo staff in boredom.

"That, and some Black Mask op I'm not supposed to tell you about, even though I'm sure you're already on top of it. He wants to use the good china, so he needs to know how many place settings to dig out."

"Black Mask does?"

"Obviously I meant Agent A. You're being deliberately obtuse."

"Tell him I won't be able to make it," Jason said.

"Why not?" Tim asked immediately. "You know if I just tell him that without an actual reason he'll get all mopey, and his shoulders will be marginally stiffer than usual and his mustache and coattails will droop and it'll bring down everybody's mood. I can't live like that, Hood."

Jason crossed his arms and smirked under his helmet.

"Don't worry, I have an excuse. I think he'll even like it."

"Oh?" Tim raised an eyebrow above his mask and jumped down off the fire escape in his curiosity, a daring foray into melee range.

"I agreed to do Thanksgiving with my partner's family."

"This would be the mysterious partner you won't tell us anything about but that makes you not want to kill all of us on sight?" Tim gathered. "Must be getting serious if you're doing Thanksgiving together. Is it with their family, or just the two of you?"

"Family," Jason said. "This will be the first time I'm meeting anyone from their family since none of them live in Gotham."

Tim pursed his lips and slowly nodded, evidently deeming it a satisfactory excuse that wouldn't make Alfred's mustache droop.

"Alright, I'll pass it along," he said. "Good luck with your partner's family. Try not to shoot any of them, alright?"

"I'll do my best, squirt," Jason replied. "Now don't you have some spying to do for old Batsy?"

"Yeah, yeah." Tim vaulted back up onto the fire escape and in moments, he was gone from sight.

Grudgingly, Jason had to admit the kid was pretty good.

Early Thanksgiving morning, Jason and Danny tossed their carry-ons in the backseat of Jason's car, and then Danny drove them both to the airport. Early in their relationship, basically on day one of dating, Danny had unilaterally decided not to let Jason drive him anywhere anymore. Ever. He claimed that Jason drove like his dad, and emphasized in no uncertain terms that that was not a good thing.

Back then, their relationship was new, and Jason worried that it would be brittle, so he had elected not to bring up the numerous high speed chases and getaways he'd managed just fine with his driving skills. Although, in fairness to Danny, a lot of them had involved other cars colliding, though never his own. He'd also never bothered to get an actual driver's license, but that was just a formality, anyway.

Danny parked in long-term parking, and they headed into the airport. Since they were only planning on staying one night and coming back in the morning, they'd decided to just pack carry-ons rather than having to check any luggage. It would be faster and easier that way.

Airport security was, as always, a pain in the ass.

As they approached the metal detector, Jason felt a spike of anxiety and checked himself over to make sure he wasn't packing. At this point, he was so used to carrying a gun on him that he genuinely could have had one and not realized, which would obviously be a problem in this situation.

Of course, he knew that he'd anticipated this, and made absolutely sure that neither his person nor his luggage were carrying any firearms—not that it stopped the spike of anxiety. Still... it didn't hurt to check again.

He was not carrying any firearms.

He was carrying a pair of switchblades in the thigh pockets of his pants, which he'd forgotten about.

They'd probably already been in his pockets before he even got dressed that morning. Stainless steel didn't set off the metal detector, though, so he didn't get stopped. It wasn't until they found seats in their terminal that he even realized he had them and thanked his lucky stars he hadn't been caught.

They were some of the first people there, so they could pick whichever seats they wanted while they waited for their flight to arrive in a few hours. They sat by the huge window where they could watch the planes coming and going on the taxiway.

"That's a Wayne Aerospace SWF-198097," Danny pointed out a jet taxiing out toward the runway, painted a sleek black with gold detailing and a WE logo on the tail fin. "I tested that one last December, and they were approved for commercial use two months ago. There aren't many in use commercially yet, since they're so new."

"I thought you were a test pilot for experimental air-crafts, not commercial planes," Jason said.

"All air-crafts are experimental until you know for sure they work," came the reply. "Although I don't do all that many crafts designed for commercial passenger flight. It's been known to happen, though."

Jason nodded thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on his boyfriend watching the planes out the window.

"You're pretty nervous about this whole thing, huh?" he observed.

"What makes you say that?" Danny asked, but Jason didn't miss the way his shoulders tensed and his lips pursed.

"When you're nervous, you fall back on safe topics like work or video games so you don't have to talk about what's actually bothering you."

"You know what's bothering me."

"I know," Jason agreed, nodding. It would be the first time Danny saw his parents in person since he was eighteen, and Jason knew he hadn't left them on the best of terms—even if he hadn't seen fit to brief Jason on the details of what had happened between them. That kind of thing would be stressful for anyone. "You can still talk about it if you want. Or not."

"Let's go with not," Danny said. "Thinking about it more isn't gonna help me calm down, it'll just get me even more worked up about it. I know once I'm there it won't be nearly as bad as I'm worried about it being, but until then...."

"Until then, we can talk about planes."

Danny smiled gratefully and launched into an explanation of all the SWF-198097's features, and what made it unique and advanced compared to its contemporaries.

Jason had never known as much about air and space travel as he'd learned in the last eight months of dating Danny. The subject had never particularly interested him. But he loved to watch Danny's animated expressions and gestures as he gave detailed lectures. Plus, seemingly unimportant knowledge had a way of coming in useful when you least expected it, especially in Jason's line of work.

The longer they sat there, the more the terminal filled up with a crowd of people on their way to spend Thanksgiving with their families until the terminal was standing room only. Finally, the flight attendants started letting passengers board the plane and find their seats. Jason sat in the aisle seat, and Danny in the middle with a stranger in the window seat.

As soon as they took off, Danny said, "This captain has never flown a plane that wasn't empty. That was one of the most poorly balanced take-offs I have ever experienced."

Jason snorted a laugh, but he saw the stranger in the window seat's grip tighten on the purse in her lap. She turned on an in-flight movie and put some headphones on about ten minutes after that as Danny kept griping about the pilot's ineptitude.

The flight was just over two hours, and Danny spent almost the entire time complaining, judging the pilot's skills when it came to handling turbulence and wind resistance, and speculating that it must've been their first real passenger flight because they sucked at it, or so Danny claimed.

To be honest, Jason didn't really notice much of a difference compared to other flights he'd been on. Maybe it was a little bit jumpier, but nothing too disturbing. Danny's flying, he knew, was always extremely confident and when Danny brought it up, even Jason could sense the hesitance in their captain's choices—although maybe he was just imagining it.

Sure, it was mediocre flying, Jason couldn't really deny that, but it wasn't as bad as Danny was making it out to be; he was still just trying to distract himself.

When the plane landed, there was a buzz on the intercom and the pilot made an announcement.

"Hello, this is your captain speaking," he said. "We have completed our descent and are currently taxiing to the terminal to allow you all to disembark. Thank you all for joining me on my very first commercial flight; it was a big day for me. And for those who celebrate, have a happy Thanksgiving."

Danny looked over at Jason with an incredibly smug and pointed look.

"No one likes a know-it-all," Jason teased.

Danny shook his head with an amused smile.

When they disembarked from the plane and headed out to the front of the airport, no sooner had they reached the passenger loading area than a booming voice called out Danny's name. It wasn't hard to spot the source of the shout—or the way Danny's body tensed with anxiety upon hearing it.

Jack Fenton looked exactly as Danny had described him, but even so, Jason was still unprepared for the man, who was nearly seven feet tall and massive. He looked like one of those comically large plush toys, wearing an orange jumpsuit and a striped tie.

He thundered over to them and scooped Danny into a hug, lifting him right off the ground, even though, at six-foot-three, Danny was hardly a small man himself. Danny stumbled a bit as he was dropped back onto the ground.

"And you must be Jason!" Mr. Fenton greeted with a frankly jarring amount of enthusiasm, and before Jason could protest, the man scooped him up into a hug just like he had his son.

It had been a very long time since Jason had been lifted with such ease, and he froze in shock, uncomprehending of the experience which was halfway suffocating and halfway comfortable. Jack Fenton felt like a plushie as much as he looked like one. On the rare occasions that Jason had gotten them as a child, Bruce's hugs had never been this soft.

Finally, Jason was dropped back to the sidewalk and Danny's dad gave him a fittingly huge smile.

"It's good to meet you, Jason, I'm Danny's Dad," he said. "You can call me Jack. I've been looking forward to finally meeting Danny's boyfriend, he has a lot of good things to say about you." Jack nudged Danny slightly and winked. "You sure found yourself a looker, huh?"

Danny blushed and Jason couldn't help the stifled laugh that escaped him.

"Anyway, I'm technically parked in a loading zone, so let's get going before I get towed," Jack declared. Illegal parking practices weren't typically the kind of thing people bellowed at the top of their lungs, but Jack didn't seem to have gotten the memo. He didn't seem to know how to lower his voice, or so it seemed to Jason.

The crowd parted to allow Jack to stride easily through it, with Danny and Jason following close behind, watching the looks of alarm and annoyance on people's faces as they leaped out of his way.

He led them to a souped up armored RV covered in small dents and dings obviously procured over a long and rough lifespan. It looked more like some kind of tactical assault vehicle than anything else, and had a huge green logo of the letter F on the side.

It was about an hour drive from the airport to the Fenton house, and Jason got to know first hand why driving like Danny's dad was a bad thing.

He spent the whole time wide-eyed, gritting his teeth, and holding onto the arms of his chair with a vice-like, white-knuckled grip. If Danny thought Jason's driving was comparable to Jack's, then maybe he really should be more careful behind the wheel from now on.

Mentally, he moved 'get an actual driver's license' higher up his to-do list.

When they finally stopped, Jason had to pry his hands up before he unbuckled.

Much to his surprise, Danny seemed to have calmed down considerably. He'd been sitting in the passenger seat next to his dad while Jason was in the back, fighting for his life, and the two of them had kept up an easy chatter the whole way. Occasionally they shouted back to ask Jason's opinion on something, which he always tried to give in as few words as possible to avoid tossing his cookies. He'd never really gotten motion sick before, but he felt very queasy as he finally stepped out of the RV, already dreading the drive back to the airport tomorrow.

The Fenton home was... unique.

It had a huge sign on the front pointing to it that said 'Fenton Works', and what appeared to be a flying saucer on the roof. It looked like they'd repurposed an old broadcast building into a townhouse, which had then been re-repurposed into some kind of... Jason didn't really know... night club? Store of some kind? What was Fenton Works?

Walking in the door, Jason was met with a perfectly ordinary living room, a set of stairs near the back wall led up to a second floor, a door to one side led to the kitchen—at least if the smell of onions grilling in butter was any indication. It was almost noon by the time they got there, and it seemed like the Thanksgiving dinner was just starting to be underway.

"Maddie! We're back!" Jack called out.

Seconds later, the door to the kitchen swung open, and a woman with short auburn hair, wearing a white apron over a teal jumpsuit walked in.

"Welcome back!" she greeted cheerily. "Oh Danny, it's so good to see you again! You're even taller than when I last saw you. Oh, and you must be Jason, what a handsome young man, I hope you're treating my Danny right."

"He is," Danny assured her.

She nodded approvingly. "Good. Well, in that case, you're welcome to call me Maddie, if you like," she told Jason. Then said more generally, "I've just started on dinner. It should be served around five, but there's a tray of sandwich fixings on the table to tide you over until then. Help yourselves."

"Don't mind if I do," Jack said, carefully pushing past them all into the kitchen.

"Would you like some help with Dinner?" Jason offered. "I know that's a big job, I'd be happy to help."

"Absolutely not," she refused. "You're a guest, I couldn't ask you to work on Thanksgiving."

"Are you sure?" Jason asked, remembering when he was younger, how frazzled Alfred had always looked trying to cook up ten dishes at once and refusing any assistance until Jason forced his way in.

"Jason's an excellent cook," Danny added. "You should let him help. Jazz isn't here yet, and you won't let me or dad help because I always drop everything and he always eats everything."

Maddie hesitated at that. "Well... I suppose I could use a kitchen assistant...." She seemed reluctant, but ultimately sighed and agreed to accept Jason's help, at least until Jazz got there. "But have a sandwich to eat first, I don't need a taste-tester."

"Whatever you say," Jason agreed, following her into the kitchen where Jack was already chowing down on a sandwich that looked like four or five layers of various cold-cuts and cheeses.

Once Jason had eaten a light sandwich—he wanted to make sure he'd have room to try everything when it came to dinner, not wanting to upset Maddie by not eating her food—Maddie handed Jason a light blue apron with a ruffled hem and put him to work chopping up vegetables for the stuffing.

They worked in silence for a while. The knife hitting the cutting board, the tick of an egg timer, and quiet breathing the only sounds to be heard. Until Maddie spoke.

"Thank you," she said.

"Hm?"

"Ever since he met you... Danny's been happier," she continued. "He loves his job, and I know he was avoiding us—he had every reason to. But I think he was a bit lonely in Gotham." Her lips pursed. Discomfort? Not dishonesty.

Jason guessed she was worried about overstepping her motherly jurisdiction, which would be limited after... whatever it was that had made Danny avoid her for years—'every reason' as she'd put it.

"Jack and I made him miserable for so long... not on purpose, of course, but that hardly matters," she said, only making Jason more curious. "So thank you... for making him happy."

"You're welcome, I guess," Jason said.

"You should know, though," she said, almost stepping on Jason's own words as she spoke with a hard voice. "I'm a ninth degree black belt, and a nationally ranked marksman. Danny has been through a lot. I strongly advise against breaking his heart."

Jason blinked in shock. He had not been expecting that from his boyfriend's Midwestern mother. Honestly, though, he felt more impressed than threatened. Danny was the best thing to happen to Jason in a long time, so screwing everything up wasn't on his itinerary.

"Noted," he said. "Sounds like you're some kind of badass; I'm surprised Danny never mentioned that. I'd love to see you in action sometime."

"Oh, well." She stood up straighter, and Jason could see her suppressing a smile when he glanced down the counter at her, basting the turkey. "I'm not all that, but it's sweet of you to say," she said.

Jason could tell it was just Midwest polite modesty. On the inside, she was obviously preening from the flattery. Just like that, he'd won her over, and the two of them continued to talk casually while they cooked. Jason was glad she'd gotten the threats out of the way early, freeing them up to talk about guns while they stuffed the turkey and prepped the side dishes.

It was late afternoon when the doorbell rang, presumably indicating the arrival of Danny's sister.

Jason could hear voices through the door as Danny and his dad greeted her. So far, there hadn't been any yelling or arguing from that room, so Jason figured the two of them had been getting along pretty well on their own, which was a good sign. Danny had said he would be fine once he was there, and that he was just anxious beforehand.

After a few minutes, the kitchen door swung open, and Jason turned to see a young woman who could only be Danny's sister. Just as Danny had said, she was taller than he was, close to six and a half feet tall.

Spending time with Danny and his family had been the only time Jason had felt short since his dip in the Lazarus Pit cured his malnutrition and he'd shot up like a weed. Compared to everyone in this family, besides Maddie, Jason was a pip-squeak at six-foot-even.

"Sorry I'm so late," Jazz apologized as she entered the kitchen, tying her hair up into a messy bun. "My flight got delayed like four times. I hope I'm not too late to help out with dinner."

"Oh, don't worry about that, Jazz, dear," Maddie said, waving a hand dismissively. "Jason helped me cook. The food's just about ready."

"Jason?" Jazz looked him up and down with a scrutinizing frown. "Danny's boyfriend. I'm his sister, Jazz."

"Nice to meet you," Jason said. "I'd shake your hand but..." he lifted his soapy hands out of the sink where he'd been washing dishes.

"No worries," she replied. "It's nice to meet you, too."

Maddie opened the oven and stuck a meat thermometer into the turkey to see if it was ready.

"You can just sit in the living room and relax with your father and Danny," she told Jazz. "I think they're watching the game."

"More like playing checkers with the game on in the background," Jazz corrected with an amused smile. "You remember Dash, Danny's high school bully slash frenemy? He's playing for the Detroit Lions against the Green Bay Packers."

The sound of Danny cheering loudly cut through the air.

"I don't know anything about football," Jazz said laughingly, "but judging by that, sounds like the Packers must be getting their asses handed to them."

"I didn't know Danny was into football," Jason commented.

They'd been together for eight months, and it had never come up. Danny wasn't much into sports in general, as far as Jason had been aware, although he did tolerate basketball when Jason wanted to watch the Gotham Knights' games.

"He's not," Maddie assured him. "He just hates the Green Bay Packers for some reason." She put the meat thermometer on the counter and grabbed some oven mitts to take out the turkey.

"It's 'cause Vlad is obsessed with them," Jazz pointed out.

Jason had no idea who Vlad was, but Maddie obviously did.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot about that," Maddie said, sliding the turkey onto the kitchen tabletop. "I had just about managed to wipe Vlad from my memory entirely."

Jazz snickered. "God, I wish that were me," she said.

Through the doorway they heard Danny cheering again.

"I guess I'm gonna go hang out in the living room. Let me know if you need help setting the table, or bringing food out, or anything."

With that, Jazz left the kitchen, the door falling quietly shut behind her as she went to join her dad and brother on the couch.

Jason and Maddie worked in silence for a while, transferring food to serving plates, carving the turkey, washing dishes. But Jason's curiosity got the better of him after a minute, and he had to ask.

"Who's Vlad?"

Maddie groaned. "Some guy Jack and I were friends with in college," she answered. "After we grew apart, he ended up being wildly successful, and then we got reconnected at our college reunion, and...." She sighed. "It took way too long for us to realize he was a massive creep, obsessed with me and Danny, not to mention a supervillain."

"A supervillain?" Jason repeated, shocked.

In the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn't be that surprised. He didn't plan to say anything, but ever since they'd first met, he'd suspected that Danny might be some kind of meta-human, and that often led to involvement with supervillains, whether they wanted it to or not.

Maddie waved a hand dismissively and went back to carving the turkey.

"He's nothing to worry about anymore," she said. "He was locked up years ago, don't remember where, or by whom, but we haven't seen hide nor hair of him since, and that's all that matters to me." She moved the turkey to the counter and started moving the cuts to a serving dish. "Could you get five plates out of that cupboard there and put them on the table, then go let Jazz know she can start doing place settings?"

"Sure."

Once everything was ready, even Jack and Danny got up to help place the food on the table before they all found their seats, Jason between Danny and his sister, and Danny's parents on the other side. The Fentons didn't say grace, even on Thanksgiving. They just started serving up food and digging in.

"These candied sweet potatoes are even better than usual," Jack commented. "And the turkey is cooked to perfection."

"Mom's turkey is always good, as long as it doesn't come back to life and swear revenge," Jazz joked.

Maddie lightly smacked Jazz's shoulder for the barb. "The sweet potatoes were Jason's doing, actually. I think he tweaked the recipe a little, but he's definitely good in the kitchen, just like Danny said he was," she said, then turned to Jason in particular. "You were such a help with everything, sweetie, thank you."

"It's no problem, I was happy to help."

Danny leaned over and said under his breath, "She called you sweetie; that means she likes you."

"I actually picked up on that myself, but thanks," Jason whispered back.

"He tweaked the stuffing recipe, too, something about the herbs," Maddie added. "I like it much better than I usually cook it. I'll have to get him to write down the recipe for me before he leaves."

"I told you he was a good cook," Danny said, beaming. "He cooks me homemade meals for date night sometimes, and they're always amazing."

The amount of praise they were showering him with was actually starting to make Jason a bit bashful. He was proud of his cooking skills, but he didn't get to share them too often, so he wasn't used to this kind of enthusiasm—not from anyone besides Danny, at least. And it only continued as they all tried the various different dishes he and Maddie had cooked up.

So far, so good—embarrassed though he may have been.

Then the interrogation began.

"So, Jason, what exactly do you do for a living?" Jazz asked. "As much as Danny talks about you, he's always been pretty vague about the details."

It was an easy enough question. He and Danny had discussed their cover-story for all the basic questions his family might ask, like what Jason did and how they'd met. Since Danny still didn't know what Jason actually did, he wasn't about to tell Danny's parents that he was a Gotham crime lord.

He recited his prepared lie, "I work in private security. People hire the company I work for to protect... events, assets, property, that kind of thing. We get pretty good business, being Gotham based. There's always somebody who needs bouncers to keep the villain of the week away from their block party or museum showcase, or whatever."

It was a good story, interesting, respectable, and plausible. He may have been small compared to most of the Fentons, but even they could no doubt tell Jason had a solid stature himself.

"Sounds exciting," Jack commented. "Is that a dangerous job?"

"Sometimes, but not as much as you'd think." Jason shrugged. "Usually if anyone really dangerous comes out of the woodwork, the Bats do, too, so we don't actually have to do much."

"So how did you and Danny meet, then?" Maddie asked.

Again, Jason had a lie all prepped for this. "Wayne tech hired us for some additional security while they were moving some sensitive equipment or something to the airfield where Danny works—my guess is some new experimental jet fuel or radar technology they haven't released yet, although we weren't allowed to know what it actually was. Anyway, I met Danny there, and we hit it off right away, so I asked if he wanted to go out after work, and the rest is history."

They had not hit it off right away.

In fact, they had both been extremely frustrated with each other when they'd actually first met—although Jason was inclined to blame that on the stress of having just been kidnapped and locked in a room with no apparent escape. He couldn't tell Danny's mom that, of course; she would freak.

"Ha! Danny must have some good game to win you over that fast," Jack declared. He winked and nudged Danny with his elbow conspiratorially. "Well done, son."

Danny just laughed.

The conversation eased off of Danny and Jason's relationship for a little while after that.

Danny told a funny work story. Jack spilled cranberry sauce, prompting Maddie to recall a story about a past thanksgiving mishap, which in turn reminded Jazz of a funny story from her and Danny's childhood, which Jason followed up with a story from his own childhood, a story about a time Dick had come to visit, back when he was still living at the manor with Bruce, before he'd died.

He tried not to think about that time, not because he'd been unhappy back then, but because now, all those memories were colored by his death. It was hard to laugh about the few occasions he'd been able to hang out with Dick, without remembering that his older brother had been in space when he'd been brutally killed.

It was hard for Jason to think about who he'd been before, once he'd become the person he was after.

But the memory had come to him anyway, and he'd shared it, because that was what one did at Thanksgiving dinner with their partner's family. Danny made it easier, but once Jason finished telling it, the pangs of anger and disappointment and loss came to him still.

Easier wasn't the same as easy.

"Oh, that's sweet," Maddie told him. "Are you and your family still close like that?"

Jason hesitated. He and Danny had prepared for this, too, but that didn't make it easier to talk about in practice.

"No, not really," he answered after a moment. "For a while things were very tense between me and them... but... things have been getting a little better lately—slowly but surely. It's still tense, but things were way worse before. I could barely even stand to talk to them without it turning into a screaming match."

Across the table, Jack and Maddie exchanged guilty looks, and changed the subject almost immediately. It seemed Danny was right on the money when he said that response would get them to talk about something else fast.

"That's... too bad," Maddie said. "But... uh...." She shot an urgent look at her husband.

"So how do you feel about ghosts?" Jack asked loudly.

In the corner of his eye, Jason saw his boyfriend tense.

The question was admittedly strange, but they seemed to be reaching for any topic that would steer the conversation away from Jason's family issues. Which Jason was relieved for, though admittedly, he didn't really know or care much about ghosts in particular.

"Ghosts, huh?" he said, "I guess I'm open to the idea of them. With all the crazy stuff I've seen in my life, I'd have to be stupid to write off the possibility completely. But I've never seen a ghost before, so I guess I'll believe it when I see it."

All the Fentons glanced at Danny.

They looked like they were trying to be subtle about it, but they were not doing a very good job. For some reason the subject of ghosts suddenly felt even more loaded than the subject of Jason's family, and now he was the one reaching for a subject change.

Feeling awkward, Jason cleared his throat and asked, "So, Jazz, Danny tells me you're a brain surgeon. That must be a pretty intense job, huh?"

"I'm just a resident right now, actually. I don't have the experience to perform surgery myself yet, but I do get to be a surgical assistant a lot," she said, a hint of relief behind her smile that told Jason he'd made the right choice. "It's really fascinating. A little gross, but I've long since gotten used to the gore of it all."

"Not at the dinner table, dear," Maddie chided gently, a soft laugh in her tone.

And just like that, the loaded atmosphere was gone, and the other Fentons were talking more about themselves, rather than interrogating Jason.

He learned that Jazz had wanted to be a brain surgeon since middle school—except for a brief stint during med school where she'd seriously considered switching to psychology before ultimately deciding to stay on the track she'd started with.

He learned that Jack and Maddie were both paranormal scientists. That they'd been written off as crackpots years ago, but as aliens, meta-humans, magicians, and other supernatural entities gradually became more commonplace over the years, the two of them had also gradually become highly respected experts in their field. Jack even invited Jason to go ghost hunting with them, which Jason apologetically declined, reminding the enthusiastic man that he and Danny would be returning to Gotham in the morning.

The more time passed, the more the conversation shifted.

There was a little more talk about cooking and trading recipes. It caught Jazz's attention when Danny mentioned how much Jason liked books, although the topic quickly petered out when he revealed his preference for fiction and especially classics, whereas Jazz was more inclined toward non-fiction, particularly scientific and medical journals.

After dinner wound down and they got up to put away the food and dishes, Jack and Maddie remarked what a wonderful time they'd had, and invited Danny and Jason back for Christmas.

Jason opened his mouth to accept, jumping at the excuse to turn down Alfred's inevitable invitation to spend the holiday with his own family, but Danny spoke before he could say anything.

"Sorry, but we can't," he said. "I'd love to, but unfortunately, I'm gonna have to work this Christmas, and I can't get out of it."

Jason furrowed his eyebrows and frowned. Thankfully, after Danny's statement, no one was looking at Jason, or they would have no doubt seen the skepticism on his face.

"Oh no, are you sure?" Maddie asked, pouting.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Danny insisted apologetically.

"But it's Christmas!" Jack moaned. "They can't make you work on Christmas! I thought Bruce Wayne was supposed to be a good guy!"

"I know, but I really really have to. Sorry, but maybe next year."

His parents pouted and complained, but didn't challenge him further. Jason didn't either, even though he happened to know for a fact that Wayne Enterprises gave Christmas off for everyone but a skeleton crew of essential employees who volunteered to spend the holiday at work for a massive bonus—and test pilots were not essential employees. In fact, the entire aeronautics and space department got a week off for the holiday, whether they celebrated or not.

However, if Danny was lying to his parents, Jason figured he had to have a good reason. Lord knew Jason lied to his family all the time, so it wasn't like he had any room to judge anyway. So he kept quiet and let Danny have his lie.

After an hour to digest, Maddie broke out the desserts, and they all partook in ice-cream, brownies, and the best key-lime pie Jason had ever had in his life.

Then came a few hours of board games: Clue, Monopoly, Life. Jason won Clue, but Jazz claimed victory at Life, and Maddie absolutely smoked them all at Monopoly—he should have known that would be the case when she pulled out a custom green ghost monopoly piece, which Jack had apparently given her for her birthday a few years ago.

It was getting very late when they all decided to turn in. Jazz headed up to her room first, but the rest of them quickly followed after deciding against a round of cards.

Danny led Jason up to his childhood bedroom. The walls were pale blue, with posters for NASA, and some band Jason had never heard of called Dumpty Humpty. There were glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, and video game figurines on a shelf above his desk.

Everything was slightly dusty after years of disuse. His parents had clearly tidied up before he came to visit, but not that thoroughly.

The two of them changed into nightclothes and climbed into bed—he had a full-size bed, rather than a twin, so it wasn't as cramped as it might've been. Danny turned the lights off before climbing in after Jason, and they turned to face each other in bed, both tired, but neither ready to fall asleep just yet.

Jason looked into Danny's eyes, which always seemed to glow a faint Lazarus green in the darkness, and wondered, not for the first time, if his own eyes did the same. He never asked, though, afraid he wouldn't like the answer.

For a long moment, they just watched each other in silence.

"Why did you lie about working on Christmas?" Jason asked softly.

The question had been nagging at him all evening. He just couldn't figure out why Danny would make up excuses to skip out on another holiday when Thanksgiving had gone so well. Unless Danny didn't think it had.

Danny's lips pinched into a sour expression for a moment, but then he sighed.

"Christmas with my family isn't like Thanksgiving with my family," he explained. "Even before I fell out with them, Christmas was like torture, and I've always hated it. I haven't celebrated Christmas since I moved out at eighteen, and I don't ever want to again, especially not with them."

Even though his voice was level, Jason could tell how strongly Danny felt about this. It actually surprised him to hear his boyfriend so intensely serious about such a typically light-hearted holiday.

He swallowed and then cautiously spoke again.

"Do you want to spend it with me, then?" he offered. Then quickly added, "We don't have to celebrate or anything. We can just have a regular date; I'll make dinner, and we can just hang out together.... Only if you want to, I mean."

"You don't want to celebrate yourself?" Danny asked, quirking his eyebrows.

Jason scoffed quietly. "More like I want to be able to tell my family I have plans so I don't have to celebrate with them."

"Ah, gotcha. Understandable," Danny said. "That sounds nice... but actually...." He seemed hesitant to say anything more, but Jason waited patiently and eventually Danny continued. "There is a winter holiday that I do celebrate around Christmastime, not always on the same day, but usually pretty close."

"What's that?"

"It's called Truce... it's... it's... a holiday." Danny replied, sounding nervous.

After a beat of contemplative silence Jason said "... uh... okay? I've never heard of it before. Tell me about it? Is this some religious thing? Because I thought you were an atheist."

Danny shook his head and quickly jumped to explain. "No it's not... I guess you could say it's a spiritual holiday, but it's nothing to do with religion," he said. One hand poked up over the top of the blanket to gesticulate awkwardly between the two of them. "Basically, on Truce, violence of any kind is strictly off limits. It's a day of peace, where you put aside all your grudges and hatred, and spend the day celebrating with the people around you, friends and enemies, good and evil, right and wrong—for just one day, none of it matters. No crime and no justice"

Jason nodded slowly. "That sounds... nice," he said cautiously. In truth it sounded vaguely culty and Jason was starting to get a little bit concerned about the kind of stuff his boyfriend was apparently into without his knowing.

"Learning about it was basically the only thing that saved me from writing off the entire month of December as unsalvageable." Danny admitted.

"It also kinda sounds like a cult thing." Jason decided to voice his concerns, just in case Danny really wasn't aware of that fact.

"It's not a cult thing! It's a cultural thing... or... subculture?" His conviction wavered even as he spoke, which didn't really ease Jason's suspicions. "I don't know." He shook his head. "You don't have to celebrate with me if you don't want to, but I'm gonna have a couple of friends over for it and—" Danny cut himself off with a huffy sigh.

"No, I want to!" Jason said quickly. "I mean it sounds very culty, but if it's important to you, I want to be a part of it. And if it is a cult thing, I want to know so I can determine how much danger you're in."

"It's not a cult!" Danny insisted, and he yanked the pillow out from under his head to whack Jason with it.

Jason laughed and pretended to spit feathers out of his mouth, even though it wasn't a feather pillow, and Danny laughed with him before putting his pillow back where it belonged.

Jason wasn't entirely joking about the cult thing, but he knew it would do no good to press the issue when all he had was suspicions and no evidence.

"We should get some sleep," Jason suggested instead, faking a yawn for good measure which almost immediately turned into a real yawn. It had been quite the day. "We can talk about it more tomorrow."

"Alright," Danny agreed through a yawn of his own. "Good night, Jason."

"Night, Danny," Jason said.

He rolled over once so Danny couldn't see the concern on his face, but he quickly fell asleep.

[docholligay]

ooo tell us about Bite Risk??

Bite Risk is a personal piece that's basically about how I can't be trusted with leadership ahaha. How I get myself into trouble. Because I bite.

It is, essentially, a very self-indulgent long frame look at my entire life and how I've tried so hard over the years to make my stubbornness and aggression be to the good and I'm afraid I will never get there. I'm not a gun, I'm not a reliable tool, I'm a half-crazed dog and someday someone is going to put me down and I'll have it coming. I get better but never good enough.

ANYWAY:

My feet didn't touch the floor, and so I sat with my back to the brick wall, winging my feet back and forth, looking over at the beige radiator where more than a few kids had stuck a thermometer in a bid to be somewhere else.

"What were you thinking?"

This has to be one of my least favorite questions.

They ask it because they don't expect things like this from me. I'm not supposed to do this. I'm a brilliant reader, interested in history and geography and did you hear she tested against the average vocabulary of a 21 year old, and wasn't she reading Treasure island the other day? Isn't she tiny for her age?

All that's true. But it's also true that I'm the wild-eyed kid that started swinging. And hit. he was slow. He didn't see me as a risk. That's why he came after me, which I took. And after Danny, which I didn't.

It was my first time.

"What were you thinking?"

I was thinking that it was the first time I saw someone back up from me. I was thinking it was the first time someone readjusted the idea that I was a victim. I was thinking I'm half his size and he's a pussy. I was thinking I tasted blood and liked it.

Same question, in the back of a cop car 15 years later. Same answer.