#how did this get so long i-

[foxafterdark]

LEO MORE LIKE LFG

can I get “leave the heels on." for ujalane OR “after that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy.” for ujalan(??? Quin and uj)

~Lo

[ prompts ]

bestie you can just say you want Uj to bottom wksbjdbddj ANYWAY I can't stress enough that I didn't edit this but I hope you like it anyway kiss kiss <3

prompt: “leave the heels on”

pairing: ARC Trooper Uj'alayi/Lane Hurosa

tags: 18+, M/NB, OCxOC, M receiving oral, M receiving anal, off-screen drag

wc: 2k+

posted to ao3

Sipping a glass of something electric blue and too sour for their taste, Lane shoves a hand in their pocket and shifts impatiently. Heavy bass thumps rhythmically through the walls, vibrating against their shoulder. In all honesty, they haven't been waiting that long, but excited anticipation makes their fingertips itch and their thoughts staticky.

Like he's fully aware of Lane's admittedly thinly veiled antsiness, Uj meets their gaze in the mirror and smirks. Partially removed eye makeup is streaked and smudged across his face, dark greens and black like shadows from harsh light.

These nights are rare, when Uj slips into a different kind of mask than his helmet. Dramatic pigment and careful contouring cast an illusion over his features, disguising tattoos and scars as temporary cosmetics, tweaking the appearance of his bone structure. In shifting and pulsing club lighting, most wouldn't even recognize him as a clone.

Fewer still would look past the padding and carefully hung fabric that obscure his figure, falsifying curves where none exist and drawing the eye away from broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms. Lane knows him well enough to see through it, but it's an extremely effective shield from bigoted eyes.

"I can practically see the gears turning in your head," Uj interrupts their ogling with the ghost of a laugh on his lips. "Care to share?"

Lane hums and scratches his nails through the back of his hair, carefully de-tangling sweaty curls. "Just thinking about how good you've gotten at this."

Leaning into their touch, Uj snorts softly.

It may not be the answer to his question, but it is true. The first time Lane was granted the privilege of an invite to one of his drag shows, he was still unsteady in heels and clumsy with eyeliner. He was still visibly uncomfortable. It's a far cry from the easy confidence he exudes on this night, fresh off the stage and glowing despite the exhaustion he must feel.

"I had a lot of help," he eventually says, resuming his efforts to scrub away makeup with a thoroughly used wipe and only succeeding in making a bigger mess of his face.

Shaking their head with a huffed laugh, Lane swivels his chair around and plucks the wipe from his hand. "You missed a spot."

"You gonna help me get it?"

"Hm. Maybe." After reaching past him to deposit their drink on the counter, they curl a finger under his chin and tilt his head up. "This is kind of a look, though. Very racoon-esque."

Uj's lips twitch as he fights a smile. "Just wait, I'll singlehandedly bring it into style."

"I think you should start going out like this all the time, to make sure it catches on."

"Maybe I will."

Despite their best effort, Lane cracks first, laughing brightly and bending over to Uj's eye level. "Coruscanti fashion won't know what hit it."

Whatever Uj would've said is muffled when Lane cracks first, again, and crushes their lips together. He tastes like cheap liquor and tobacco and it's nasty and it's intoxicating. They clamber onto his lap and only bang their knee once in the process. It's well worth it when Uj groans into their mouth, wraps his arms around their waist, and stands like they weigh nothing at all. Their lekku curl with approval, even after Uj drops them onto a ratty couch.

As distracting as the broad, bare expanse of his chest is, as much as they want to lean forward and bite into the meat of his shoulder, that's not what does them in. It's the clothing he still has on that makes their mouth suddenly go drier than sand. Namely, the thigh-high, black leather, high heeled boots. Before he can press them back into the cushions, they stagger to their feet.

Lane's height advantage over him is turned upside down as they look up at the self-satisfied grin on his face. Heat surges through their core. Abruptly, because it wouldn't work otherwise, they flip their positions so Uj is seated with Lane standing between his thighs. They murmur a curse and sink to their knees.

"You're a sight, jun tol," they say, running their palms up his thighs to tug at the tight material of his underwear.

"You're eager, cyare," he counters, even as he shifts to comply with their silent request. Lane pulls the offending garment down and off when he lifts up, but stops him before he can unzip his boots.

They brush their lips against the tight leather and murmur, "Leave the heels on."

His breath leaves him in a broken sigh, but he relaxes back onto the couch. Resting their cheek on his knee, they have an excellent view. Though untouched, his cock is hard and flushed, curving against his lower abdomen. Dark, trimmed curls fade into a happy trail, up his stomach - soft over thick muscle - to his chest. His cheeks are flushed and his pupils are blown wide. Waiting.

Lane watches with rapt attention the way breath catches in his chest when they drag their tongue across the leather encasing his lower thigh, then has to look away to suck a hickey into the skin above. Their own pants are getting uncomfortable, but they're determined to ignore it for the moment. They trail wet, nippy kisses up Uj's thighs until they reach the crease of his hip and bite down gently. A muscle in one of his thighs jumps and a calloused hand twitches on Lane's shoulder.

Part of them is tempted to drag this out. It's not often that Uj hands over the reigns like this, much preferring to hold tight control and give rather than receive, and the urge to savor the opportunity is strong. The burn of arousal and alcohol inside them is stronger. The overwhelming smell of musk and the salty taste of sweat and the press of thighs to their sides are all stronger.

They lick a long stripe along the underside of his cock, just to feel it jump against their tongue, before sealing their lips around him and hollowing their cheeks. Uj lets out a low moan that goes straight to Lane's groin. Only by wrapping one hand around his ankle and the other around the base of his length can they resist touching themself. The slide of velvety skin over their tongue is also an excellent distraction. Their eyes flutter closed as they focus in on the whisper light touch at the back of their neck and the stretch of their jaw and the strain in Uj's legs as he fights not to buck his hips.

And that just won't do. Lane hums around him and sinks down until their nose brushes thick curls. Uj blows out a harsh breath, speaking rapid-fire Mando'a that they can't understand, but his tone betrays desperation. The head of his cock nudges at the back of their throat, cutting off their air until they shift back, pressing their tongue up and sucking hard, then sink down again. They set a slow, intense pace. Swallowing around him punches a moan from Uj, curling their tongue around the head of his cock gets the slightest thrust up into their mouth. If their mouth wasn't full, they might smirk at how quickly Uj unravels.

He's never been much good at holding himself together when Lane goes down on him. Despite themself, Lane might let it go to their head. Just a bit.

Bobbing their head faster, they move a hand to lightly brush their fingers against his balls, then further back. With practiced motions, they knead just so, up, and there.

Uj swears loudly.

Every muscle in his legs goes taut and his hips snap up, testing the limits of Lane's gag reflex. Their brain goes a little fuzzy as he holds them in place and fucks into their mouth. Everything narrows down to his cock, hot and thick and heavy, chasing wanton pleasure.

Lane's pants are inordinately tight and decidedly uncomfortable, but they've come like this before. Untouched, on their knees, grinding against whatever grants a ghost of friction. The filthy promises spilling from Uj's lips and the ache of his cock at the back of their throat are like a drug.

On a particularly rough thrust, they choke, swallow, groan, and Uj comes down their throat. His hand is tight around the ba k of their neck, holding them down, and they can't breathe, and they can't think beyond sharp satisfaction. Distantly, they feel their lekku entwine in a tight twist. Right when their lungs start to burn, he lets them up to suck in a breath.

"You'll be the death of me," Uj declares, his voice thick with naked lust.

Swallowing hard and still panting shallowly, Lane grins up at him. "Only if I actually manage to suck your soul out someday."

He huffs a laugh and lets his head drop onto the back of the couch. Lane takes the opportunity to stand and press a kiss under the corner of his jaw. "I wanna fuck you," they murmur, scraping their teeth against his ear. Uj shudders. "Wanna bend you over this shitty couch and see if I can make you come again on my fingers. Then I wanna fuck you."

"Fuck," he replies, eloquently.

"You want that?"

"Yeah."

"You have lube?"

"At the counter. Top drawer on the right."

"Perfect." They kiss him a last time, letting him lick past their teeth and undoubtedly taste himself, then shuffle across the room to get what they need.

"You're wearing a lot of clothes," Uj remarks as they turn back to him, shucking off their shirt in the process.

"I was distracted." He doesn't move until they pause between his knees and tug on his hands. "C'mere."

With an exaggerated grunt, he straightens and pushes to his feet. It's impressive, his ability to stay steady in heels and kiss Lane like he's trying to consume them and maneuver until he's sandwiched between their body and the arm of the couch. His fingers drop from their jaw to their belt, deftly unbuckling it and loosening their pants enough to slip his hand inside. The sudden freedom and friction - just his palm grinding against their boxers - is enough to draw a soft moan from them.

They really won't be able to last long.

So they squirm out of Uj's grip and raise a brow at the all-too-innocent look on his face.

"What?" he asks.

"Just trying to guess what you're plotting in there." They tap a finger to his forehead before squeezing his hips and turning him around, brushing their lips against the back of his neck. "Now bend over for me, spitfire."

His knees don't bend when he doubles over and plants his elbows on the armrest. Palming his ass, Lane plants a kiss high on his back, just beside the plating around the socket for his cybernetic. As expected, Uj rocks back into their hand - eager - as they trail kisses down his spine.

Neither of them have much patience left. Uj rumbles a deep groan when lube-slicked fingers spread him apart, generously coating the rim of his ass and letting him adjust to the cold. He's tense, but clearly trying to shove aside his nerves. "Come on," he rasps, angling to fuck himself back onto their fingers.

"Easy," Lane murmurs. They rake their gaze appreciatively over the rippling muscle of his back and squeeze his hip, a gesture of silent support.

For all of the tension corded through Uj's shoulders, he takes Lane's finger with ease. He pushes back as they press inside him. He whines, high and needy, when they can't get any deeper. And gods—

"You're so fucking tight," they breathe, burning, aching.

Maybe they rush a second finger after only a few languid thrusts, but Uj meets them with enthusiasm. Curling their fingers against the bundle of nerves inside him earns them increasingly desperate noises and increasingly incoherent babbling. A third finger follows the first two.

"Lane," Uj says through a pitchy sigh, "if you don't fuck me now, I'm gonna–"

They withdraw their fingers and shove the rest of their clothes down around their ankles in a smooth motion. "Gonna what?" they ask, slicking themself and lining up with the fluttering entrance to his body. "Leave? Turn the tables?" Demonstratively, they grip the back of his hair, tight. "I think you'll take what I give you, whenever I give it to you. Won't you?"

Before he can answer, they rock forward just enough for the head of their cock to disappear inside him. And it takes everything to stop there. Lane can hardly think.

"Yeah," Uj moans, mercifully, "I'll take it– fuck– please."

"Good boy."

Only knowledge of Uj's limits lets them fuck down into him in one long, hard thrust. Tip to root, they bury themself in the furnace-hot vice of him. The pace they set is unforgiving - fast and hard enough to shove Uj down onto his elbows. They're pressed close enough to feel the leather of his boots against their knees. They're deep enough to feel every contraction of muscle, every ripple and rush of arousal. Again, the world narrows, this time to Uj's hole ceding to them like there's no other care out there. Like he was born to take them.

Desire drips like liquid flame down their spine and pools lows in their stomach. "I'm close."

"Me too," Uj sobs into the crook of his elbow.

"Gonna come in your ass," they carry on, largely on autopilot. "Gonna make you feel me tomorrow, with every little cramp."

"Come in me–"

"'Cause you're mine."

"Yeah."

"Say it."

"I'm yours."

Digging their nails into his hips with the force of their grip, Lane snaps their hips forward and true to their word, paints his insides. Pleasure explodes behind their eyelids like fireworks and twists through their core. Everything fades out for a beat before ebbing back. When they blink they eyes open again, they're collapsed onto Uj's back, still buried inside him.

Swallowing colorful language, they slowly, carefully, pull back and out to a way shlap. Uj huffs, but Lane is past caring about involuntary bodily noises. Instead, they wait for him to sprawl onto his back and then situate themself comfortably on top of him. His chest makes a wonderful pillow, and they tell him as much.

"Oh, thanks," he snorts. "I see that's all I am to you, an all-purpose body pillow."

"Yep."

"Ass."

"Yep."

"You're lucky I'm happy to be your body pillow."

They hide their smile in his chest, breathing him in. "I know."

[note: Ryl is tricky but I'm using "jun tol" to mean "my fire"]

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

[andthebeanstalk]

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

[astearisms]

fionna and cake drawings before and after watching the episodes so far. it’s nostalgic and somehow cathartic and poignant and relatable and—it just started

[hailsatanacab]

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

[zoe-oneesama]

Some "Special" Girls! And the late girls.

Ko-fi | Patreon

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

finally at that age where i'm thinking i should get a tattoo. not bc i feel strongly about it, just seems like a waste not to. i've got so much skin i'm not using

[petricorah]

scenes i loved from Real Enough to Get Me Through by @marriedzukka <333 [ids in alt]

[egophiliac]

Serious question.

Do you think we’ll see the parents/family of each of the guys???

Like, We’ve been TEASED with Ace’s brother, that I’m starting to think it’s just a reference to that Alice in Wonderland park character in Japan and nothing else….

Jack’s family, Ruggie’s grandma, Falena, Maleficia, Ms.Rosehearts, Just now Vil’s dad is in the picture which I am really happy but now I’m wondering about his mom, and so Deuce’s mom.

I mean, some HAVE a silhouette!! It could mean they do have a design in the making/ready to show. They could’ve shown us Falena in the Tamashina (hope I said that correctly) event, but didn’t (prolly to make Leona not so σ(▼□▼メ) and it’s understandable)

Anyhow, any idea/headcannon about this? Who do you want to see first?

I'm wondering if everyone might eventually get a travel event? like they've now introduced with Vil's that it doesn't have to be specifically hometowns, so that opens things up a lot! (especially if they have to figure out how to do three separate Coral Sea visits) (how would that even work otherwise)

but yeah, I hope everyone gets a chance! there's a lot of backstory characters I would LOVE to meet. :D :D :D though I do think some of them don't really suit the more light-hearted tone of the events (pretty sure you're right about that being why Falena wasn't in Tamashina-Mina, that would've just been. too much for Leona.) so like...we're probably not ever going to meet the Rosehearts. or Maleficia (although I maintain that this would be THE funniest possible way to introduce her outside of the main story, and actually I would love this a lot, can we please Twst) (I need to see her to put Malleus in a froofy little outfit and tell him what a handsome boy he is). but they've sprung surprises like Kifaji on us, and honestly anyone who shows up and tells embarrassing stories about characters' childhoods is good in my book!

characters off the top of my head who I most want to meet: literally any of the Zigvolts, Azul's mom, Ace's brother, Che'nya's grandfather (<- I think he would be a good one for Riddle) (please just any non-terrible adult in his life), any member of Rook's family because I need to see how they managed to produce him, and...really just whoever they can come up with for Silver.

[ew-selfish-art]

Dpx Dc AU: Ectoplasm is required for Ghosts to be visible to the human eye- And Danny creates his own ectoplasm.

Danny is visiting Jazz in Gotham and its weird how friendly everyone is. Like, the city gets a really bad rapport, everywhere he goes there is someone trying to strike up a conversation or answer his questions about getting around to the tourist spots. A few people even pointed out restaurants and ways to find off the beaten path gems! Jazz seems to role her eyes at him, but when he brings up her 'roommate' being kind of cute she flat out laughs.

Danny then comes to understand the Jazz doesn't have a roommate and that Ghosts in Gotham don't move far from their haunts- He's just been inadvertently turning these undead folks visible by accident of generating abnormal amounts of ectoplasm.

Which, is comforting in a way, he's never walking this dangerous city alone and really, most of the ghosts have been really friendly! They disappear once he's a few blocks away from them anyway.

---

Tim Drake is having a horrible day.

He'd been given intel that one of Black Mask's guys was going to snitch but that he'd died before given the opportunity to reach out to the GCPD. He tracks down the guy's last know whereabouts and yikes. Its next to the Theater. Tim was often grateful for his childhood obsessions, this time it backfired.

Tim and Bruce get into an argument about trust and respect and, worst of all, mental health. And even though Tim was vehemently against Batman accompanying Red Robin to the alleyway - that's exactly what happens.

They arrive and Bruce is closing up faster than a clam in the contaminated Gotham Bay- Clearly being in the Alley bothers him. No fucking shit. RR gets started on collecting evidence, there are a few extra blood splatters and a single left shoe... When a kid walks into the Alley.

"Uh, sorry to intrude-" The kid looks scared shitless, and runs away. And then, all of a sudden, Batman and Robin aren't alone in the Alley.

Tim can hardly believe his eyes as the dead man appears and quickly blabs Black Mask's bank passwords and what the plan had been- and While he's over joyed to have that closure, he turns around to Batman weeping in the arms of his parents.

The ghosts fade, and the emotions are certainly charged as this was never something Bruce or Tim would have ever dreamed of happening. Ghosts in Gotham. Talking, floating, granting closure.

"RR, Bats, come in." Oracle calls into their ears.

"Reporting in, but, uh, we need a minute."

"A minute? We have a case on 4th and-"

"O, we just saw the ghosts of the Waynes. It's going to be a minute."

"...Lots of Ghost reports lately then. Any chance you saw a kid looking like he could be adopted?"

"Yeah, actually, black hair and blue eyes. He was super polite before he ran away."

"We have work to do. Oracle, lets prioritize finding our person of interest and divert Nightwing and Robin to the case on 4th." Batman cut between them on the comms and he sounded... calmer than either of them anticipated.

---

Jazz is no longer laughing when Batman appears at her door explaining that he's looking for Danny (Who already flew away from town to get a good night's sleep before class on Monday). Turns out Danny reunited the man with his dead parents just briefly- and then the second guy appears and mentions how Danny had also given a guy who'd been murdered by a Mob enough time to explain the ongoing threats the city faced.

Jazz just rolls her eyes and says that it's not like the ghosts are going anywhere anytime soon and Danny will visit in another month. When pressed, she just explains that her brother is a weirdo. No of course he doesn't have powers. Gaslight and Girlbosses her way out.

And Jazz thinks that the game is up for at least another month, obviously when Danny visits more shit will stir up, but then this new guy appears.

Unlike the other Bats who are keen on watching her from a distance, the Red Hood knocks on her door. Are her eyebrows all the way into her hairline when Red Hood asks her to send his thanks along to Danny because somehow this whole situation led to his Dad expressing remorse for his actions and apologizing? Yes, yes they are.

But Jazz can smell Dissertation Data off of these vigilantes- Who is she to send them away? Jazz welcomes Red Hood into her place for a cup of tea and a small chat.

The story then devolves into Jazz getting shit done, Danny being cute by proximity and also bringing ghosts to the party, and the Bats having trauma resolve between them.

[eerna]

first light dragon ride

[slavhew]

charmed, i'm sure

[hychlorions]

a what-if i've been thinking about for forever... trucy knowing the truth before anyone could tell her

[pissnvinegar]

The pattern....

[sea-buns]

captioners you are so valid

[ruporas]

wolfwood redraws (ID in alt text)