#parker answers

[pixelartparker]

may i please request simon from soma? (also--i'm super happy to see another aroace person!!! <3)

Always nice to meet a fellow aroace! Absolutely I can draw Simon ^^ I chose to draw him in 64x64 pixels so it’s less detailed but I thought his design would look cool in a more retro style.

I hope you like it :)

Suggestions, tips, and requests are welcome!!! I don't do any NSFW but I'll create for any fandom. Feel free to use this for something if you want. A like, reblog, or follow if you do would be appreciated!

~Parker

[parkakeet]

hey i hope this isnt weird to say, but i think you should look into depersonalization? you mentioning feeling disconnected from your body n stuff really sounds similar to my own experiences with depersonalization and i think it would be worth it to just look into it. sorry if thats overstepping something or anything

not weird. not overstepping.

I looked into it. and I'll definitely look into it some more. so thank you.

I may have more thoughts on this later. I need to think about this.

[lou-writes-things]

I WANT ALL OF THEM!

but ok.

Flarrie fantasy thing first! :D

!!! (I'm so excited about this oneeee)

this one has lived inside my head for a long time with nothing really being done with it. but I'm hoping to do something with it very soon.

basically it's set in the stereotypical DND esque fantasy world. Carrie is a runaway noble and her brother Bobby is the king.

Carrie lives as a mercenary, taking off jobs running off bandits or retrieving things for people and the like.

she meets Flynn cause Flynn is a witch that helps supply her for her quests and shit and then they slowly start falling in love and stuff.

[posthumous-pagan]

For the asks game! 📿🥂🎭

I already answered the first one so I won't answer it again.

🥂 Favorite devotional act?

I love veiling for Lady Hestia. It's something that is easy for my to do with my scatter brain and busy schedule. I can wake up and put on a veil for her as part of my routine.

I also like to spend time reading and acknowledging neglected graves at cemeteries for Lord Thanatos.

🎭 Emotional or silly worship experience?

Honestly, I don't have a ton of emotional or super impactful worship experiences, for me my practice is very comforting but also very routine and day to day.

I would say, when I first reached out to Thanatos, which was the first time I prayed. I felt very safe and protected like I'd never felt in religion as well.

Also, I celebrated the monthly holidays for the first time over Christmas Eve and Christmas and that was super hectic but also very rewarding. (I buried a ginger cookie for Hekate in the snow at the end of my gmas driveway lol)

[dame-bloodrose]

Love the new icon!

Thank you! I'd been feeling restless with my old icon and then while writing up a bit more about 13 and realized that I *really* fucking hate facial features for myself.

[vampyresquids]

if i met you, i’d give you the biggest hug (if welcomed) and crack all my FUNNIEST jokes and do all my FUNNIEST bits to make you laugh (as i always wonder what your laugh sounds like). xoxo

Good luck being funnier than me 😈

[awhoreintheory]

Circus Boy

Directly inspired by @erinwantstowrite 's art!!! post

Request from awesome amazing cool Anon

Over the years, circuses have lost their spark.

Dick would know— he’d literally grown up in one. Back then, the circus was a symphony of effort and artistry. Weeks, sometimes months, were spent perfecting routines. Performances were designed to dazzle, to inspire awe, no matter the country or culture of the audience. The comedy sketches weren’t just filler— they were genuinely funny, capable of drawing laughter even from the most reluctant parent dragged along by an excited child. Every act had a rhythm, a purpose, and above all, passion. The performers took pride in their craft, and the audience responded in kind, feeding off the energy, cheering and clapping until their hands were raw and their throats sore. 

Now? Now they were dull. Predictable routines recycled ad nauseam. Costumes that looked like they were bought in bulk from a clearance rack. Tents and stages slapped together with the barest effort to resemble grandeur. The magic, the joy—the soul of it all—had been replaced with a singular, glaring goal: profit. No one cared if the audience laughed, gasped, or even paid attention, so long as they paid their entrance fees.

But recently, whispers of something different had started making waves in Gotham: a circus gaining a reputation for being... well, different.

Dick’s curiosity was piqued. He hadn’t planned to go, at first. But the memories of his youth, of what the circus used to mean, stirred within him. Before he knew it, he’d wrangled (read: blackmailed) together as much of the family as he could to go see it. Which, wasn’t a whole lot considering quite a few were out of state currently, but it was enough to make him smile.

“Why must I come along? I do not see the point,” Damian groused, arms folded tightly across his chest as the group approached the circus grounds. Despite his protests, he made no move to make a stealthy exit.

“You’re coming because it’ll be good for you,” Dick said, ruffling Damian’s hair just to annoy him. Damian promptly swatted his hand away, glaring daggers at his adoptive brother.

“You don’t even know if it’ll be good,” Tim chimed in, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “What if this thing is as boring as all the other ones you’ve complained about?”

“Then we’ll all get funnel cake and call it a night,” Stephanie said brightly, making it clear where her true excitement lay. “I’m in it for the food, anyway.”

Dick pouted. “You didn’t have to say the quiet part out loud!” 

“Don’t underestimate funnel cake,” Duke added with a smirk. “It might be the only thing saving this trip if the show’s a flop.”

Dick rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t waver. “You’re all so cynical. Just... trust me, okay? I have a feeling about this one.”

Sure, a lot of the decorations seemed cheap thus far, but Dick can’t blame them. They’re clearly low budget, with only two shows a week, versus the seven to ten a week Dick was used to. The difference was the genuine passion and excitement in the eyes of the performers. And they were just doing pre-show stunts on the street to rouse excitement! 

Tim hummed thoughtfully. “This place has been gaining rapid popularity,” he said, the subtle edge in his tone making it clear he was already analyzing every detail. Dick saw his fingers twitch as if to take a picture. 

Dick glanced over at him but didn’t comment. He recognized that tone— Tim was in detective mode, quietly piecing together threads no one else could see yet. He did, however, take the opportunity at his siblings' distraction to subtly herd them in the direction of the tents, eager to get a good front-row seat. Damian noticed, but he didn’t do much more than roll his eyes.

Steph, however, rolled her eyes dramatically. At Tim, not Dick. “Can you just enjoy one thing without looking for a criminal conspiracy, Tim?”

Tim matched her with a roll of his own eyes, the two slipping into a bickering match that’d put an old married couple to shame if they weren’t so aggressively gay. Meanwhile, Dick let his attention wander to the stage, studying the equipment with the practiced eye of someone who’d lived this life.

Suspended high above was the trapeze rig, its bars wrapped in worn leather, the steel cables taut and secured to thick iron frames. The safety net below, while a little faded, looked sturdy enough to do its job. Not brand-new, but serviceable.

To one side, a highwire stretched across a dizzying height, its slim cable shimmering faintly under the tent lights. The rigging showed some signs of age— slightly dulled bolts and scuffed counterweights—but nothing that made Dick worry. It would hold, even if the daredevil walking it would need nerves of steel.

A teeterboard sat center stage on the ground, its spring mechanism ready to launch performers into flips and vaults. Nearby, a stack of brightly painted crates and barrels hinted at comedic skits. Clowns would probably tumble over them with exaggerated flair, while a sturdy seesaw-like prop suggested slapstick gags involving plenty of unintentional (and intentional) falls.

The whole setup had a charming scrappiness to it. The equipment could use a little TLC, sure, but Dick had no doubt it would hold up under pressure. He could tell the performers had put their trust in it, and that meant something.

For a moment, Dick felt a flicker of nostalgia. The way the crew moved, the crisp efficiency with which they handled the gear— it reminded him of home, of the way his parents had always treated the stage with reverence, as though it were sacred ground.

“Do you see how high that wire is?” Duke muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and apprehension as he followed Dick’s gaze.

“I see it,” Dick replied softly, his heart tightening. He couldn’t help but wonder who had the guts to walk that cable, let alone pull off any stunts on it. He’d definitely have to stick around and chat them up, maybe have a little friendly competition. 

“Awe, man,” Duke sighed, visibly disappointed. “Guess we weren’t excited enough.”

Turns out “early” wasn’t early enough because the seating area was packed. The whole first three rows were aggressively claimed, forcing the group to settle for seats in the middle of the fourth row.

Steph and Duke promptly excused themselves to grab popcorn—or, more accurately, for Steph to scout for funnel cake. Dick had to respect the consistency.

Damian glanced at Dick, then at Tim with a withering look. “Drake, cease your ramblings. They sour my mood.”

Tim blinked, clearly taken aback. “Wait, just me? Steph was talking way more!”

Steph, who had been halfway out of earshot, whirled around with mock offense. “Excuse me? I wasn’t the one turning this into an episode of ‘True Crime: Circus Edition.’” 

“Yeah, because you’re too busy planning how to steal funnel cake from children,” Tim shot back, crossing his arms. Damian’s eyebrow twitched. Dick wondered why peace was but a mere illusion. 

“Oh, please,” Steph quipped. “You’d be the kid I steal it from, Drake.”

Before Tim could come up with a retort, and Damian became a convicted felon, the lights dimmed, cutting their bickering short. A hush fell over the crowd as the familiar low hum of a drumroll began to build.

The ringmaster strode into the center of the stage, clad in a dazzling coat of crimson and gold that shimmered under the spotlight. If you looked any closer than that, you’d see how tacky and cheap it was. His booming voice carried effortlessly across the tent.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Welcome to a night of wonder, daring, and delight!” the ringmaster announced, his voice ringing through the tent as the steady drumroll built the tension. “Prepare yourselves for the extraordinary, the astonishing, the absolutely unbelievable! The show begins... now!”

The drumroll reached its peak, and with a dramatic flourish, the spotlight swept upward to reveal the first performer perched high above the stage. A man in a sparkling gold costume waved grandly to the crowd before swinging onto the trapeze. The audience clapped politely as he performed a few rudimentary tricks— basic flips and graceful swings that showcased control but lacked flair.

Two more performers joined him, each clad in similar glittering costumes. They moved with confidence, transitioning through formations and passing between trapezes, but the moves were predictable and lacked the edge Dick was hoping to see. Certainly, nothing that would make this rinky-dink circus as popular as it got so quickly. 

Tim leaned toward Dick, his tone flat. “You dragged us here for this?”

“Underwhelming,” Damian muttered, his expression neutral but his tone sharp.

Dick didn’t respond immediately, though he couldn’t disagree. The tricks were technically fine— safe, practiced, polished— but there was no spark, no passion. No magic. He resigned to going home disappointed and also to the inevitable flaming via siblings. 

But then, just as one of the performers finished an awkward landing on the platform, the ringmaster’s voice boomed again.

“And now, prepare yourselves for the prodigy of the skies, the one and only Amazing Arach-Kid!”

The spotlight shifted upward again, revealing a much smaller figure poised on a separate platform, high above the others. It was a boy— young and wiry, dressed in sleek crimson and black, his face obscured by a half-mask (not dissimilar to their domino masks, actually) that glimmered faintly in the light. For a moment, the crowd was silent, uncertain what to expect.

Without warning, the boy leaped.

The gasp from the audience was audible as the kid— Arach-Kid?— launched himself into a dramatic triple flip, his body twisting gracefully through the air before he caught the trapeze with flawless precision. The crowd erupted into applause, the energy in the tent shifting instantly.

He didn’t stop there. Swinging with a force that sent his trapeze soaring higher than any of the others had dared, he released at the peak of his arc and spun into a double somersault. Instead of catching the next trapeze, he landed neatly in the arms of one of the adult performers, who looked genuinely startled by the boy’s precision. He grinned, waving excitedly at the audience as they roared with applause. 

From there, the routine transformed. Arach-Kid became the centerpiece of the act, seamlessly incorporating daring flips, twists, and transitions between trapezes. He was passed between the adults with perfect timing, their previous mediocrity eclipsed by his sheer skill and energy.

“Whoa,” Duke murmured, leaning forward in his seat. “He’s... good.”

“Who is that kid?” Tim asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Better than the rest of them combined,” Damian said bluntly, though his tone carried the faintest hint of approval.

The boy ended his routine with a jaw-dropping quadruple somersault, catching the final trapeze one-handed and hanging upside down with effortless control. Gasps and cheers erupted from the audience, their applause thunderous as he let himself swing for a moment, letting the crowd bask in his daring. Then, with a fluid motion, he swung back, releasing the trapeze bar for one final flourish.

Dick leaned forward, his breath catching as the kid’s body twisted into the unmistakable maneuver— the signature move of the Flying Graysons.

The crowd roared as he executed the technique perfectly, his form flawless, his timing impeccable. He landed with a clean dismount, arms raised triumphantly, and offered the crowd a playful bow before darting off to the wings. Even with the stage empty, shouts and applause echoed for a long time after the boy left. 

For a moment, Dick couldn’t move. His stomach churned as memories of his parents on that same trapeze flooded his mind. No one else knew that move. No one could. His parents had created it, and Dick had learned it from them. It was their legacy— his legacy.

So how, in the name of all that made sense, did this random kid just pull it off perfectly?

The lights shifted again, smoothly transitioning to the next act: a somewhat clumsy but undeniably entertaining tightrope routine. One performer started with a wobbling walk, arms flailing for comedic effect. Another joined, balancing precariously with a broomstick for support. The final performer added a unicycle to the mix, pedaling shakily across the thin wire as the audience laughed and clapped in delight.

It was… objectively funny.

But Dick barely noticed. His good mood had evaporated, replaced by a heavy knot of unease in his chest. At this point, they must have a hive mind with how they immediately filed out of the tent without a single word exchanged. 

“That was—” Tim started, breaking the tense silence.

“Dick,” Steph interrupted, her voice low, “did he just—?”

“That was your move,” Tim finished firmly, his eyes locked on Dick’s.

“It’s not possible,” Duke added, glancing at the now-empty trapeze rig. “Right? It’s your family’s thing. There’s no way some random kid from Gotham knows it.”

“I am more concerned with how he knows it,” Damian said, his voice cutting. His eyes darted to Dick. “This is your domain, Richard. You must have answers.”

Dick didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his breathing shallow. In disbelief, he muttered, “I don’t.”

Steph frowned. “Okay, well... what do we do? Do we just ignore the fact that some kid pulled off your impossible secret family move?”

“No,” Dick said sharply, his voice colder than any of them expected. “We don’t ignore it. We find out who he is, how he learned it, and what the hell is going on.”

Tim’s brow furrowed. “Do you think someone’s trying to get your attention? Like, deliberately?”

Dick shook his head, though his face betrayed his uncertainty. “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, it’s... it’s possible, but...” He exhaled through his nose, frustrated. “I need answers. This isn’t something you just pick up on YouTube.”

The group left the small but packed circus, their earlier excitement replaced by a shared tension. The cool night air did little to clear their heads as they walked in a tight huddle, glancing over their shoulders as if the boy would materialize out of the crowd.

“Something’s not right,” Tim said, breaking the silence.

“Obviously,” Damian muttered.

“I mean it,” Tim snapped. “Moves like that— you don’t just do them. It takes years to learn without a teacher.” He glanced at Dick. “You’re sure no one outside your family knew it? Like, absolutely sure?”

“Positive,” Dick said firmly. “The only people who knew it are gone. Except me.” His voice dropped as he added, “Or at least, they’re supposed to be.”

The group exchanged uneasy looks, about both the situation and Dick’s reaction to it. It takes quite a bit to rattle him, so to see him, well, rattled was weird. Beyond weird. It was downright wrong. 

“Either way,” Duke said cautiously, “we’re going to figure this out. Right?”

“Oh, we will,” Dick said, his voice grim. “We don’t leave things like this unanswered.”

As they disappeared into the Gotham night, paranoia settled over them like a second skin. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to stay a mystery for long. 

[xwilltruman]

the pitt on twitter part 8

[timbit-robin-art]

What's your favorite Marvel ship?

Is this just a grand conspiracy to make me doodle more Spideytorch? Hmmm…

[laser-tripwires]

i am occasionally reminded that parker knows how to shoot/handle a gun competently in redemption s1e3 and it's like, eliot, mr. "i dont like guns", why are you teaching people this.

(i am aware parker has a handgun in s1e1 but i dont think the skills are transferable to shotguns and its never really established if she can actually hit anything and also i doubt archie would train her in it bc its not a gentleman thief skill and by the same logic i doubt parker would teach herself bc its not particularly thief-y)

anon, this ask was like an early christmas present for me. i love when people are "wrong" in interesting ways, or if not wrong then... take a different view to what i do. so, parker and guns. i can't believe i've never made a post about this.

(heads up, i've stolen vast swathes of this post from conversations i've had with both @ghostlyarchaeologist and @aardvaark. words are all mine but ideas are mutually borne, so thank you both for being sounding boards at various points in the past. everyone go follow heather and adrian cos they're better at this than i am.)

right, let's talk about the pilot, becuase parker can absolutely hit things with that. both eliot and nate know immediately that hardison isn't a real danger, but the second nate hears the safety beng turned off there he whirls around and matches her threat; that's what you do when you know someone's not making pointless bluffs.

also, boiling this back to it's utter basics, what's the main skillset you use in order to handle a pistol competently? hand-eye coordination. which is something we know for sure parker has in spades; she's a master pickpocket and she learns fast.

we need to remember, also, that parker's initial sense of morality is completely fucked. or... not morality, exactly, but sense of what does and doesn't count as wrong, what does or doesn't count as harm? because there's that scene in homecoming, right, where everyone's protesting the concept of eliot having to do the thing they hired him for, and parker weighs in with "i never hurt anyone." except... like, the FIRST thing we know about parker is that she blew up a house as a child. it's canonical that the parents survived, but parker also spent six months in juvie and has broken out of prison multiple times and lived on the street for god knows how long and stork job shows she can fight pretty well pre-leverage, too. i'll come back to all this in a minute.

her being a crack shot with a gun is... not really incongrous with who she was pre-leverage. archie describes her when he found her as "a danger to herself and to others" and like YEAH no i buy that. i buy that completely.

next up, what about things that aren't pistols? well.

that's a fucking sniper rifle.

that's a fucking sniper rifle.

that is, and i cannot stress this enough, a fucking sniper rifle.

so yeah, i'd say that those skills are transferrable. she can take out an armed gunman and tie him up with duct tape, without causing a scuffle, and re-aim the gun. with enough consistency that nate knows for sure she'll manage it in less than three seconds. sure, we can chalk some of that up to parker at this point having had four seasons of eliot here's-how-you-take-out-thugs-with-guns fight training, but... i think at this point it's pretty fair to say that (regardless of the provinance of her skills) parker's kinda a good shot, actually.

okay, let's revisit that point about morality, because there are kinda a bunch of really important touchstones here.

so, john rogers once said that "parker is the second most dangerous person on the team, and eliot would argue first most dangerous." she's the team member with the least qualms about hurting people, always, and that's a detail that tends to get brushed over.

she would have killed tara here. she makes that extremely clear. i can't listen to that "Bye, now." and not get shivers.

talking of shivers.... "I want to do the right thing."

because, look, parker's not eliot. she's not thawing ice all the way through, and yet we're shown again and again that, despite that, "She has the nuclear winter inside her." there will always be a part of her who's first instinct is to jump, to hide, to run, to kill, to not care because caring hurts. but there's also a part of her that is softer than any of the team, that is a child who'll never grow up and yet grew up too fast. she grew up beaten, bruised, neglected and starved yet she's something wonderful - but she knows she's broken, she knows they all call her crazy, and it hurts. she wants to do the right thing, make the right choice, but she hates that it'll never be her first instinct. and the thing is? that's okay. she went through hell and back and turned out someone strange and weird and at times unkind, but... the team like how she turned out. hardison likes how she turned out. and that's worth the world - she just needs to remember it and believe it and use HER skills instead of trying to be something she's not. that is what parker and eliot's conversation in the ice cave is about, if you strip it back to it's bare essentials. parker doesn't want to be normal, she just wants to be normal enough for her friends.

has parker ever killed someone? i don't know. i don't know if she even thinks like that, in such clear terms - as i already talked about, parker's definition of 'hurt' is not the same as anyone else's.

so let's talk about broken wing job for a second, because absolutely everyone overlooks the reason why parker does the job in the first place - "You brought a gun? To my bar?"

because. yeah.

"Those guys are gonna rob this store, right? Which is fine. I don’t mind robbers who aren’t robbing me, or my friends, or kids or… But they brought a gun to the party, and that changes all the rules."

this is season five. she investigates the theives because she's bored - but she only decides to stop them because they brought a gun. that's the kind of very specific morality you only get after being the good guy for a very long time, and i do think that hanging around eliot probably helped affect that a bit.

actually, fuck it, look at what else she says about this whole thing in the broken wing job.

"No cops. No cops. That will actually increase the chances of people getting hurt. [...] Seeing a uniform in the middle of stealing something could cause you to panic, make bad decisions..."

"These guys aren’t that good, which is actually another reason why we should do this, ‘cause sooner or later, they’re gonna make a mistake. Someone’s gonna get hurt."

so. yeah. on the one hand, this is weapons safety 101, for someone in parker's position. "[The Leverage crew] don't use guns because - when guns come out, people die. This attitude very much comes out from traditional American crime literature, and also from talking to our professional criminal friends. Guns are messy, when they show up things escalate, you take a longer, harder fall when doing a crime with a gun - professional criminals are pathologically averse to carrying weapons." i'm quoting john rogers here, because i can, but you'll hear similar in any training manual, and it's especially relevant to parker's actions both here and elsewhere in the show.

on the other hand, mix up all those statements and it definitely implies parker has fucked up badly in the past. again, i don't know if she's ever killed someone. but.

well, for funsies, let's look at the rest of JR's above statement about gun safety (i'm quoting from his blog on the gone fishin' job, in case you wanted to find the source): "You do not point a gun at anything or anyone you are not willing to kill. [...] I had that drilled into my head at an early age. A gun has two settings - holstered and murderous. 'Wounded' is an accidental condition. Eliot in particular is aware of this, and one of the many reasons he does not use a gun is because he is trying to, well, not kill people anymore. Hardison is magnificently awful with weaponry. Although Parker is probably a fine shot, she's trying to play nice by the new rules, and only brought a weapon to the meet in the pilot because she wanted to get paid."

and all that is, more than anything else, the core and crux of everything i'm saying here. factor in how broken parker is, how we know she's made mistakes in the past, throw in archie's "a danger - to herself and to others" line, think about the tara rooftop incident... there's a picture emerging here. it's not a nice one, but it's unpleasantly clear.

so. where does that leave us?

well, it at least leaves me extremely certain for a vast number of reasons that eliot didn't need to teach parker how to shoot a rigged game.

[pixelartparker]

Bro you gotta draw Edgeworth!!

Coming right up! The fanciest gentleman to ever set foot in court!

I hope you like it :)

Suggestions, tips, and requests are welcome!!! I don't do any NSFW but I'll create for any fandom. Feel free to use this for something if you want. A like, reblog, or follow if you do would be appreciated!

~ Parker

[parkakeet]

ig my opinion is unpopular, but pls tell me you chose option 3 :')

indeed I did choose option three anon. I liked the fit and the color a lot, and I even brought in my fashionable sister as a consultant.

me and you are like this 🤝

[lou-writes-things]

aaaaaaand country girl julie and her city boy himbos

yesss

this was inspired by my need to take those boys out of the city smh.

so it's set in the 90s and basically sunset curve is on tour and they break down outside of Julie's tiny little town.

they meet her because Flynn is the one in charge of fixing their van. they hear her sing, luke becomes obsessed with having her join their band and all that.

also featuring the boys knowing nothing about small towns and wanting to go do stuff that does not exist outside of driving for two+ hours.

Reggie is in heaven living out his country boy dreams.

lots of side characters and stupid shenanigans.

[posthumous-pagan]

📿🔥 for the asks:)

ahhh ty!

📿 do you have anything you're thankful to your deities for?

yes! my deities have helped me work through my religious trauma, and a lot of changes in my life. they've also supported me through school and life feels easier with them.

🔥 do you have any favorite myths?

Yes! I'm really partial to the Sisyphus myth. I Also love Oprheus and Eurydice and Eros and Psyche

[kizzer55555]

DP x DC: The Most Dangerous Card Game

Ok so Danny has essentially claimed earth as his. And he is fully aware that there are constant threats to the planet. Now he can’t stop a threat that originates on earth (that’s something he’ll leave to the Justice league) but he can do something about outside threats. Doing some research on ancient spells, rituals, and artifacts, he cast a world wide barrier on the planet to protect it from hostile threats so they cannot enter. This will prevent another Pariah Dark incident. However, barriers like this come at a price. You see, there are two ways to make a barrier. Either make one powered up by your own energy and power (which would be constantly draining) or set up a barrier with rules. The way magic works is that nothing can be absolutely indestructible. It must have a weakness. The most powerful barriers weren’t the ones reinforced with layer after layer of protective charms and buffed up with power. Those could eventually be destroyed either by being overpowered, wearing them down, or by cutting off the original power source. No, the most powerful barriers were the ones with a deliberate weakness. A barrier indestructible except for one spot. A cage that can only be opened from the outside. Or that can only be passed with a key or by solving a riddle. So Danny chooses this type of barrier and does the necessary ritual and pours in enough power to make it. And he adds his condition for anyone to enter. 

Now the Justice league? Find out about the barrier when Trigon attempts to attack, they were preparing after he threatened what he would do once he got to earth. How he would destroy them. The Justice league tried to take the fight to him first but were utterly destroyed, so they retreated home to tend to their injuries, and fortify earth for one. Last. Stand. Only when Trigon makes his big entrance…he’s stopped.

The Justice league watch in awe as this thin see-through barrier with beautiful green swirls and speckled white lights like stars apears blocking Trigon and his army’s advance. The barrier looks so thin and fragile yet no matter how hard the warlord hits, none of his attacks can get through and neither can he damage said barrier. That’s when Constantine and Zatanna recognizes what this barrier is. Something only a powerful entity could create. For a moment, the league is filled with hope that Trigon can’t get through yet Constantine also explains that it’s not impenetrable. And clearly Trigon knows this too for he calls out a challenge. 

And that’s when, in a flash of light, a tiny glowing teenager appears. He looked absolutly minuscule compared to Trigon and yet practically glowed with power (this isn’t a King Danny AU though).

And that is when the conditions for passing the barrier are revealed. And the Justice realize that the only thing stopping Trigon and his army from decimating earth. The only way he can get through….is by beating this glowing teenager in a card game. 

Not just any card game though. The most convoluted game Sam, Danny, and Tucker invented themselves. It’s like the infinite realms version of magic the gathering, combined with Pokémon, and chess. And Danny is the master. So sit down Trigon and let’s play.

(The most intense card game of the Justice league’s life).

After Danny wins, this happens a few more times with outer word beings and possibly even demons attempting to invade earth, yet none have been able to beat the mysterious teenager in a card game. Constantine might even take a crack at it and try to figure out how to play. He’s really bad though. Every time this happens, the Justice league worry that this might be the time the teenager looses. Yet every time, he wins (even if only barely). 

Meanwhile, Danny, Sam, and Tucker have gotten addicted to the game and play it almost daily. Some teachers might seem them playing the game are are like ‘awww how cute’ not realizing this game is literally saving the world. Jazz is just happy they aren’t spending as much time on their screens playing Doomed.

[vampyresquids]

If I met you, I would bring you my favourite rock, a bouquet of flowers and a really big hug, then I'd treat you to a little coffee 💕let you know everything will be okay.🫂

This is so soft and tender 🥺