#wee bit angst

[reaperofravens]

Please consider the mental image of the group fighting something either large or numerous, and Holga just picking Xenk up and throwing him wherever he’s most needed.

[weebswrites]

Lucifer x GN!MC - Lucifer's First (wc: 1788) I saw a post saying that there's no way the bros are anywhere near the level of dominance we typically write them as during Nightbringer bc they literally Just fell from the Celestial Realm. Unless you're telling me Michael let them fuck there is no way any of them have done a single act of sin so I will be taking my darling Lucifer and we will be having our first kiss (and more in a reblog soon) thank you very much

Reluctantly, Lucifer had agreed to have lunch with you. You'd been asking for days - subtly, of course (at least to you).

This was the demon you were in love with. You'd shared long nights together completing paperwork and assignments side by side, as well as nights having the best sex of either of your lives. Being sent back in time was tearing you apart. You missed the Lucifer that held you as you fell asleep after a long day, even when he had a mountain of paperwork with a looming deadline. The Lucifer that knew your favorite tea, that walked you back to the HoL after school every day. You missed the way his lips would brush yours, hesitating for just a moment before kissing you with a passion you knew was incapable of description. You missed what came after that.

But you knew, and Solomon had spent days reminding (and consoling) you, that this was not that Lucifer. It was weird. You knew things about him that he didn't, that he wouldn't for centuries to come. It felt like you had to carefully plan each thing you said, as to not reveal you were from the future.

Despite all this: the secret knowledge, the memories yet to be made, and the growing urge you had to throw yourself into his arms, you wanted more. To be in a room with him, even having to be so mindful, was better than nothing. So finally, after days of bargaining, here you were. Seated across from the love of your life in his office, food and hot tea between you.

You found yourself getting lost staring at him. It was during one of these moments when he finally addressed it.

"MC. I know you've been very enthusiastic about having this lunch, but must you spend it staring at me?" he put his tea down and looked back at you, "Surely you have something you want to talk about..."

He was clearly giving you the space to talk, and not acknowledge the staring, which you gladly took.

"Oh! Yeah, I was actually wondering," your brain was moving so fast you thought he'd be able to see the gears turning through your eyes. "If you'd heard anything from Diavolo about the school?"

Lucifer's gaze remained unchanged, and almost as if he was waiting for you to say more.

"He said he wants it to educate the demons that live here, right? How would he decide who'll teach? And what to teach?"

Lucifer sat back in his chair a bit, a sign you knew meant he had something important to say. You mirrored the action, bringing your tea cup with you.

"He's been wondering the same thing, actually. With no previous and consistent forms of education, how do we decide who's qualified to teach? His thought so far is...us."

You couldn't hide the shock from your face. There was no way you could teach; you weren't even a demon! Luckily, Lucifer kept talking before your thoughts could spiral.

"Don't worry, I put a quick stop to that" he said, clearly having noticed your panic. "His next thought was asking friends of this father's if they'd be willing. They don't all have the most progressive attitude, but he thinks some of them would definitely be give it a shot. So that's our start. He was going to update you at the next official meeting."

You thought for a second before responding. You didn't know much about the intricacies of RAD's founding, something you wished you would have done more research on now that you were here.

"I think that's a good idea. As long as we go to the right people, or demons, first, we should have a strong backing for opening the school."

Lucifer nodded, "I agree. We can work on that list of demons not people at the meeting" he smirked to you as he lifted his tea cup, sending a fiery blush to your face. The rest of lunch consisted of small talk, you asking questions to 'learn' more about the eldest brother, and him giving basic responses. He asked a few questions about your history as well, which surprised you more than it should have. He did fall in love with you, too, after all.

"Well, I have paperwork to get to, if you don't mind I'd like to be alone now"

You smiled, "Only if you'll walk me to the door"

His eyes met yours before his smile joined it, and the two of you walked to the large wooden door of his office.

"Thanks for agreeing to this, Lucifer, I appreciate it"

"It wasn't nearly as...boring...as I thought" he half-teased.

You laughed at his honesty, and he couldn't help but crack a smile too. Your eyes met, and your heart ached. It was in moments like these when you wanted nothing more than to feel the strong safety of his arms. In an instant, your brain replayed the nights of loneliness you'd spent here, wishing for any ounce of Lucifer to help you fall asleep.

Before your brain was fully back from the memories, you were on your toes, leaning into Lucifer and wrapping your arms underneath his. His body stiffened, but you couldn't have pulled away if you tried. He smelt the same as he did in your time, and you felt more at home than you had since the moment you suddenly found yourself here. You nuzzled your head into the crook of his shoulder, and after a few seconds, you felt his arms wrap around you too.

You let out a breath into his chest, and like on cue, his arms tightened around you, returning the hug.

"Lucifer" you whispered into him, trying to memorize everything about this moment.

"I don't know why I feel so...drawn to you, MC. But I do. It's the first thing I've ever been unsure of."

You pulled back a bit to look at him, both of your arms still intertwined around each other.

"Even when I rebelled against Michael, I knew it was the right thing to do. It was what I believed in, and even knowing the chaos it would cause, I knew I had to do it."

You looked into his eyes, trying not to let tears well as he opened his heart to you. It was rare to talk about his falling in your time, so his willingness to confide in you was a moment that struck your heart.

"But you. You come out of nowhere, and are so invested in my life, and my brothers' lives. Why? I don't get it, and I don't get why I feel so compelled to let you. To accept you into our new home and let you form bonds with each of them," he paused for a moment, finally lifting his head to meet your eyes, "To let you form a bond with me."

You kissed him. His words filled your heart with such pure emotion, you didn't know how to express your love and gratitude in anything except a kiss. So you leaned in, softly pressing your lips to his as one of your hands moved to his hair.

He inhaled sharply through his nose, tensing again in surprise. But his hands tightened around your waist, and he didn't pull away. You kept your lips pressed to his, and in a moment, he returned the kiss.

It was nothing like the Lucifer from your time, but it was Lucifer. His kiss was messy and he struggled to match what your lips were doing. This was unexpected, but then it clicked. He was freshly fallen from the Celestial Realm. He'd probably never kissed anyone before. Or at least not much.

You smiled against him, and he kissed your smile. "Lucifer" you whispered, and he opened his eyes to look at you.

"Lucifer, was that your first kiss?"

For the first time outside of the confines of the bedroom, you saw him blush. The tops of his cheeks turned a light pink, and his eyes quickly fell to the floor.

His lack of immediate denial was answer enough, and you gently raised his chin with your index finger and thumb and brought your lips together again.

It was smoother already, him matching your rhythm quickly, hands holding you close. He moaned into your mouth at the same time you moaned into his, the mutual desire becoming clear.

"MC" he whispered against your lips, "I..."

He trailed off, unsure of what to say or what to do.

You wanted to pour your heart out. To tell him everything that had happened, and about the memories the two of you would one day make. But Solomon’s voice popped into your head, and you knew that would only make things worse, so you took a breath before talking.

“All I know is that kissing you is the only thing I’ve been able to think about since I got here,” you laughed a bit embarrassed, “But I realized just now that this is new territory. I don’t want to rush you into anything you aren’t ready for, but-”

He kissed you before you could get another word out. It was a single kiss, and only on about half your mouth, but it made your heart do a backflip nonetheless. “MC, I am terribly out of my element. You’ve clearly done this…had a relationship like this before. And I haven’t.” You were amazed at his honesty, but his Pride was something he’d learned to put aside for you in the future. Maybe he was already learning how to do it here, too. “I hadn’t thought about kissing you. Honestly, I hadn’t thought about kissing at all until the moment your lips were on mine. But now, I know it’s all I’m going to be thinking about.”

His eyes held yours, as if waiting for you to finish his thought.

“You’re a demon now. Your body might want things that it hadn’t as an angel, and your mind might not like that” you cringed at how much you sounded like a middle school health teacher, but persisted, hoping it would help Lucifer feel more at ease. “I’m willing to do anything you’re comfortable with. And we can learn along the way.”

Equally as embarrassed as you, he smiled. “Thank you. I’d like to kiss some more, if that’s okay.”

You had to restrain a laugh, the mental image of the Lucifer in your time seeing the Lucifer of now was something you’d definitely be telling him when you got back to the present. But for now, you cupped his face in your hands and nodded, leaning in and kissing him again.

–

A/N: PART TWO WILL BE UP AS SOON AS I’M DONE WRITING IT!! no v cards will be taken but things will get steamy >:)

[oifaaa]

as the Tim fan™️ what are your thoughts on fandom tim. I just saw a tik tok about Bruce making Robin Tim do honey traps and sleep with rogues so that Red Robin Tim would he be willing to sell his body for the mission.

Tim has never been my favourite so maybe I just don’t understand but like what is the fandom desire to abuse Tim? or make it so Bruce abuses him or assaults him or that the Batfam hates him?? It seems like every other post I see about Tim is centred around him being severely abused by the Batfam.

I know canon and fandom are tots different but like what’s going on??

I honestly don’t mean to come across as mean or anything it is pure confusion?? Damian’s my fav and all I want is for him to live his best happy life. what is the desire to see Tim abused? Physically sexually and emotionally??

As a Tim fan do you understand this conundrum?

With Tim there's a couple different things happening; first is the general way a lot of fans will enjoy angst/hurt type stories and situations like I've seen it with multiple fandoms and multiple characters it's not unique to Tim we all like to hit our fav characters with sticks bc we want to feel something

Secondly Tim just has a big victim complex in popular fanon if he's not being abused by his parents, then he's being beaten up by Jason or Damian, or Dicks trying to send him to Arkham, or Bruce is actually just being Bruce he does do some messy stuff depending on who's writing him (I will also note you actually see a similar thing with Jason but I shan't get into that now)

Anyway to conclude people like angst and Tim is an angst magnet (also something something about tim being a lot of people's self insert character but im not getting into that right now)

[13phantom13angel13]

What Big Brother’s Are For

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: To the anon who requested brotherly love tickles for Jason and Dick, here you are!

Content warning: there’s a bit of angst in the beginning. So beware!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick could tell Jason was having a hard time. He seemed to be a bit down in the dumps recently. But, Dick knew the stubborn man wouldn’t willingly talk about his feelings. So the most he could do was show Jason he was there for him if he ever wanted to talk.

That day came unexpectedly during a heavy storm while they were sitting in Jason’s apartment. Lightning illuminated the living room as a loud clap of thunder followed. Dick saw Jason visibly jump at the sound, his entire body going rigid. The worry from his older brother became palpable to Jason as he turned to look at him. Dick was staring at him in thinly veiled concern. Jason sighed heavily, looking down at his hands.

“I guess you never really get over the fear…”

Dick stayed quiet, but continued to look at Jason; a silent indication that he was still listening if he chose to continue. Jason scrubbed a hand down his face as he leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees.

“It just reminds me of that night, you know?” Jason’s voice quieted a bit as he continued, “It sounds like an explosion sometimes…”

Dick’s eyes saddened upon hearing that. He never thought that the sound of thunder could remind Jason of the night that Joker took his life. Took him from the people who loved him the most.

Without saying a word, Dick scooted over next to Jason and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. To his surprise, Jason didn’t pull away. In fact, he hesitantly returned the hug, clinging to Dick’s shirt with trembling hands. Dick hated that his brother had to go through that; hated that he had to continue dealing with the after effects of that night. It broke his heart to see Jason so downtrodden.

“You’re home now and you’re safe. Nothing will ever take you away from us again, Jay. Nothing will ever take you away from me. I’ll protect you.” Dick rubbed his back soothingly as he whispered to him. Jason nodded, resting his head on Dick’s shoulder.

Dick continued to rub his back for a bit, until Jason started to tense up. Dick had started to stray a little too close to the back of his ribs, a secret weak spot that no one knew about. Except Roy. Dick lifted his head to look down at Jason, noticing his cheeks starting to flush as a smile fought to come to the surface.

A delighted smile came across Dick’s lips.

“Oh…what’s this, Jaybird?” Dick asked as he wiggled his fingers into the back of Jason’s ribs.

Jason’s back arched as a surprised squeal ripped out of his throat. He quickly grabbed ahold of Dick’s arms to try to pry them away as his back arched to get away. That proved to have the opposite effect of what he wanted. He arched right into Dick’s embrace, furthering his entrapment. Dick continued to tickle him in the same spot.

“I didn’t know you were ticklish here!” He exclaimed, wiggling his fingers faster. By this point, giggles had began to bubble up out of Jason against his will. No amount of squirming was going to get him out of this.

“Dihihick! Plehehehehease! Dohohohon’t tihihihickle!” Jason begged.

“Why not? It’s so cute that you’re so ticklish.” Dick chuckled fiendishly as his tickling fingers moved lower down on his ribs. Jason’s giggling started to border on actual laughter as he continued to squirm as best he could in his brother’s arms.

“Nohohohoho! Please nohohoho!” Even with just the smallest amount of tickling, Jason was weakened. If Dick continued his assault downwards towards his sides, it would be over.

And what did Dick do? Yep. He went lower. His fingers now traced silly patterns on the lowest part of his ribs, right around his kidneys. That was it. Jason exploded into hysterical laughter as his back arched as far as it could go in his position.

“FUHUHUHUHCK! DIHIHICK STAHAHAHAHAHAP! I CAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAKE IT!”

Dick was surprised by his reaction. He thought his hips were the only spot that gave such a strong reaction. Dick was starting to have a hard time keeping Jason in his arms as he flopped backwards. He dug in a little harder.

If Jason thought he was done for before, he truly was now. His laughter went silent as he toppled backwards on to the couch, dragging Dick along with him. With him now flat on his back, Dick moved his fingers to his stomach.

“Wow. That’s a nice little goldmine there,” he chuckled. “That seems like a close second to your hips.” He remarked.

“Ihihihit tihihihihickles sohohoho bahahad there! Now cuhuhut it out! I gihihihive!” Jason tapped Dick’s arm in a sign of surrender. Dick chuckled, stilling his tickling fingers as he sat back up.

“Feel better now?” Jason nodded as he caught his breath, also sitting up.

“Yeah, I do…” he admitted a bit shyly. He leaned against Dick, closing his eyes. “Thank you, Dickiebird. For always being there when I need you and putting up with my shit.”

Dick smiled fondly as he wrapped an arm around Jason’s shoulder.

“Any time, little wing. That’s what big brother’s are for.”

[spongynova]

Jim, in front of his destroyed kitchen, crying because his friends made him a cake. From the delicious fic Cake is Love made Edible by donrex (which was so cute, and hilarious, with kitchen shenanigans)

Ps: I know it's supposed to be academy era in the fic, I forgot and the yellow was a reflex 😂 maybe I'll make a cadet red version later

[paperbackribs]

A Christmas Message

Prompt Day 15 - Time Travel | Rating: G | CW: None | Tags: getting together, minor angst, first kiss | WC: 995 (@steddieholidaydrabbles it's the 15th where I am, so I hope this isn't too early on your side)

🎄💖🎄💖🎄

Eddie stares down at the piece of paper in his hand. It’s just a little slip, fragile and white and torn on both ends. But the handwriting is his own and the message disturbing: burn the world.

“Eddie?” Steve calls from his lounge room, the sound of the kids arguing over their movie choice almost drowning out his voice. “Bring me a beer too?”

The world had narrowed like peeking through the mouth of a glass bottle, distorted and small, but at Steve’s voice Eddie startles, blinking up at the warm kitchen lights. Outside, the night looks normal, the full moon hanging low in the dark blanket of stars and the distant pine trees swaying beyond Steve’s house looking fat and serene.

Yet, Eddie had just pulled out a torn message from inside his jeans instructing himself to light up the world. An uneasy tendril unfurls, winding its way around to sit heavily in his gut. Eddie digs his hands into his pockets, searching for any more scratchy evidence but they remain empty. Frowning, he runs his thumb over the text before shoving it into his pants; he’ll think about this later.

Mike complains as Eddie renters the lounge, “You just want to watch it because it has ‘babes’ in the title.” He’s frowning so hard that Eddie’s vaguely worried that his face will freeze in that expression forever. He hears an echo of his uncle’s voice saying the same and rolls his eyes at himself.

Lucas shrugs, “Babes. Babes in Toyland. It’s got everything we need for a Christmas movie.” He blindly holds out his palm behind his back and Steve high-fives it. The slap resounds through the room as Max rolls her eyes at El, but she’s staring at Eddie. Watching him cross the room to sit beside Steve. He hands over the can, their fingers brushing and Steve smiles at him, warmth shining from his eyes. “Thanks,” he says, subtly leaning into Eddie.

It's nothing new, Steve shifting into Eddie’s space. Ever since he’d been released from the hospital and they’d worked out the nitty gritty with the government so Eddie wouldn’t be arrested for Henry’s crimes, Steve had slowly, but surely been moving into Eddie’s world.

First, through stopping by to make sure that he had enough meals while he and Wayne worked out their living situation. Then casual visits just because he’d been thinking of Eddie, which had progressed to anything from structured movie nights to simply hanging out, smoking and talking and ensuring that with very little effort Eddie had stumbled and fell, tumbling at the feet of this man he’s come to love.

He thinks that maybe Steve has come to feel something similar for Eddie too.

The idea makes Eddie stir in his seat, the fear of being too little for anyone’s love making that uneasy feeling in his gut revive. As he does, he hears a crinkle. He digs under his ass and pulls out a familiar slip of paper but this time it says, You’re going to want to run.

He doesn’t notice El’s head whip towards him because fear has struck through him cleanly, powering him to his feet to bolt towards the front door. He hears Steve’s voice call his name, but his gut is roiling, and his brain is lighting up, and he needs to get out of the house.

Steve catches him as he fumbles at the door handle, his hands slippery and feeling further numb from the heat at his back. “Eddie…” Steve breathes, his words ruffling the long waves at his neck.

Pressing his eyes tightly shut, Eddie turns. The anxiety of not being enough for Steve combined with the ominous, unexplainable messages whipping into a fear that if he looks at Steve he’ll blurt out his big, stupid feelings and ruin the best thing he has in his life.

A broad palm cups his jaw and Steve says his name again, a soft, reverential sound that breaks over Eddie’s lips as Steve kisses him. It is chaste, just a simple, experimental brushing of lips, but Eddie can feel the depth of emotion behind it, as wide and high as a tsunami wave. Helpless to do anything but succumb under it he whimpers before pressing urgently forward, kissing Steve back and drawing his hands up to frantically grip him by the collar of his shirt. Eddie hears another crinkle.

Drawing back, he absently notes Steve’s heaving chest, but it’s the paper that holds his attention: away. You’re not going to do that. Steve...

“Eddie?” Steve asks, concern shadowing his eyes, fear shimmering at the back of them. And it is the latter that draws Eddie up short: he has such potential to hurt Steve, to make him believe that he is bullshit or too much or not enough, all the big and small hurts that they had shared over these months. He desperately doesn’t want to do that. He wants to cherish Steve, shower him in gentleness and care enough to overshadow those hurts.

A crisp white piece appears in his other hand and Eddie is finally able to put together the whole message: You’re going to want to run away. You’re not going to do that. Steve would burn the world for you, burn the world for him back.

Eddie contemplates the papers in his hands for a moment, a decision locking in place deep inside. Resolve fills him, banishing the jittery panic that had once stayed his hand. He looks up, a smile spreading across his face, “I love you, Steve.”

Steve blinks, brow furrowing in shock before the tension that had frozen him in place gives way. He smiles, a tremulous, hopeful thing and steps forward into Eddie’s space once more, cupping his jaw and leaning in. “Thank Christ,” he says and takes Eddie’s lips again. In the safety of the house, guided by an uncanny message, the two embrace, love and devotion present and enduring.

[britcision]

I am back! And with the beginnings of some answers to the mysteries, though sadly not the full John Constantine lowdown! But I will make it up to you all with some Harley shenanigans!

There just wasn’t enough space to get them both in and of course Harley comes first, I stan a queen (Quinn)

We’re gonna take a much closer look in Brucie’s head this time too as he gets a bunch of new information and maybe some new trauma, so this chapter and the next will be a lil Bruce heavy

(Jason is thrilled, believe me)

First Chapter:

Previous Chapter:

———————

Yeah This Might As Well Happen

Jason really wished he could just focus on having a good time with his family. The food was, as always, exquisite, and Sam and Tucker were moaning happily along with the others.

It smelled great. It looked great. It tasted great, but something in the back of Jason’s head just wouldn’t switch off.

Not until Danny came back.

Even the thought that Danny might be in danger while he just ate dinner sat like a lead weight in his stomach.

The expanded aura… well. It kind of helped? Being practically choked by Danny’s presence, aware in every pore of his skin that Danny was there, was fine, wasn’t hurting, did help.

It just. Made it impossible to really think about anything else.

He was barely following the conversation, just reading the intricacies of Danny’s mood changes and losing track of sentences as people said them.

Finally, finally, Danny’s aura shifted again.

Done-got him-no big deal-coming back.

Jason almost sagged in his seat, shoulders unknotting marginally (they probably wouldn’t finish until he could see Danny and prove he was fine).

Sent impatient-relieved-happy-hurry back as well as he could, and nearly dropped his fork at the warm swell of affection he received in return.

Well.

Affection-amused-teasing.

Clearing his throat, Jason did his best to will away the heat along the back of his neck. Nope, he wasn’t gonna blush when Danny wasn’t even here to look at him while smothering him in those feelings.

And it was definitely just the pit curling up into a little buzzing ball of happiness in his chest. Definitely not actually Jason melting like snow under a blow torch.

Whatever.

Danny was fine, he’d be back soon and Alfred had saved them both plates. And sure, maybe something in Jason wouldn’t unclench until he could see Danny in person, but letting Alfred’s cooking go cold was a sin.

He dug into his still steaming plate, forcing his shoulders to relax a little. Tucker and Tim were still talking about tech, currently disparaging what the GIW thought were elite security measures.

Harley had lured Sam, Duke, and Cass into a discussion of her new place in Coney Island at the other end of the table, and yeah, Jason could get interested in that.

Someone might have already asked, but hey. He waited for a convenient pause and leaned in.

“Didn’t Croc move down there with you? He and Riddler attacked the gala last night,” he explained when Harley made a curious noise, head cocking to one side.

Her brow furrowed, so apparently the others hadn’t gotten this far yet. Not sure if he was glad or gonna tease them mercilessly later.

“He what? Yeah, he moved in, but he came back this way ta keep me company as I came up here. Someone’s tryin’ ta give me a hard time cuzza my criminal record, an’ they’re gettin’ intel from one of your local problems,” she added with a shrug, waving her hand.

Cuz yeah, that was also on the list; she’d been up with Ivy, neither of them noticeably causing trouble before apparently Ida Manson got them out of town.

Cass made a small noise of concern and Harley patted her hand, grinning.

“Oh, don’t you worry about me doll, it’s all under control. Thought it might be Pengy havin’ another go at my spot but he burst into tears when I walked in so it’s prob’ly not him,” she said with a very self satisfied smile.

Jason chuckled softly because… yeah, he could picture that. It tracked.

“Smart man,” Duke agreed with a snicker and Harley gave him a fist bump.

“Yeah, I’ll run ‘em down. But why was Waylon at the gala? He jus’ said he was gonna look inta some shit while I was gone,” Harley asked, looking around the table for an answer.

Jason shrugged.

“All their demands were for Harvey Dent. Apparently he was planning to make a run and they beat him to the punch,” he explained, in as much as he understood.

If no one else had a hand on Dent by tonight, he miiiight stretch one of his Red Hood patrols out of Crime Alley to go for a look see.

The man missed his party. The least Jason could do was pay a personal visit.

“Croc mentioned Jason,” Cass noted with a small frown, looking up at him with concern.

And, yeah, that was the other reason he was thinking of getting involved. He couldn’t imagine what the fuck he’d done as a civvie to annoy Dent.

Harley huffed, blowing blonde bangs off her face and lacing her fingers, pointing at Jason.

“Okay, so we gotta go talk to Waylon tomorrow and find out what’s goin’ on. He’s comin’ with me back to Coney when the time comes so he ain’t got time for Arkham,” she said firmly, and something settled in Jason’s gut.

Waylon had so badly wanted the Red Hood not to turn out like he had; another criminal permanently trapped in the system. Yeah, he’d like to return the favour.

Of course, not everyone in the room was up on all the secrets. Sam leaned forward, breaking her quiet streak that as far as Jason knew was her longest ever.

“Wait, you’re going to break that guy out of jail? He wanted to strap a bomb vest to Jason,” she said harshly, finally snapping Tim and Tucker out of their little happy world.

Jason raised both hands.

“He didn’t succeed.” Much as Danny had freaked out about it, Jason wasn’t gonna complain about things that hadn’t happened.

Too much like it actually happened every day, he’d never be done.

Oh. Maybe that was kinda why Danny had freaked out. That probably wasn’t good.

His personal revelation was dampened by Harley waving a hand easily.

“Nah nah nah, we’re not gonna break ‘im out tomorra. He’s gonna tell us what the fuck he was thinkin’, I’m gonna break Dent’s kneecaps, and Batsy’s gonna give a character statement an’ get ‘im released ta me for community service.”

And if any of that didn’t work, they could still just break Croc out the next day. Jason knew the unspoken corollary.

Tucker’s eyebrows raised and he said the very stupidest thing that Jason had ever heard from a genius, and he’d seen Tim on 72 hours of no sleep.

“You know Batman?” He asked incredulously.

Harley stared at him for a long moment. Then snickered.

“Yeah, we know each other from work,” she said dryly, waving her fork, “we go way back.”

The assorted bats snickered to themselves and Tucker sunk back in his chair a little, grinning sheepishly around the table.

“Yeah… sorry.”

Sam rolled her eyes, arms folded as she frowned down the table. She clearly had a bigger question, which was probably fair for anyone who didn’t know the combined Harley-and-bats history.

“And you think Batman will do you a favour? He’s not exactly known to listen to reason,” she pointed out half sarcastically. Not that anyone in the room would argue.

There was a reason Jason loved her.

Harley weighed her up for a moment, then grinned, leaning forward.

“Y’know, kid, I don’t think we were introduced. There’s somethin’ real familiar about you,” she mused, folding her arms on the table and leaning over them, plate slowly nudged aside.

Sam smirked and shrugged. They were meeting a lot of new people these past couple days, but if she’d been doing the gala circuit her whole life?

Yeah, this probably wasn’t the worst. Harley was better than Jason had ever met at a party.

“Sam Manson. Friend of Jason’s through Danny,” she added with a nod to the empty seat still between her and Jason.

Harley beamed, hiking forward onto the table a little more.

“Oh, you’d be Ida’s granddaughter then?” She asked brightly, clearly pleased to have been right. “Your granny’s a real doll, sent me and Ivy on a real sweet vacation this week.”

Sam chuckled softly and nodded, giving Harley a half apologetic half cocky smile.

“Yeah, that’d be my fault. I’m not allowed to come to Gotham if there’s a chance Poison Ivy is in town,” she explained, fingers on her left hand tapping against her right arm.

Both of Harley’s brows went up.

“Oh? Are they scared somethin’ might happen to ya?” She asked, tone already very firmly suggesting she knew the answer.

So did most of the rest of the table, though Duke hadn’t actually heard the explanation last night. Not like he needed to, having met Sam for more than five minutes.

Sam didn’t disappoint. She gave another elegant half shrug, her smile turning fully dark.

“Oh, more the opposite. They think I’ll run off and join her if I see her,” she said innocently. Across the table, Tucker snorted most of a laugh.

A moment later Harley joined him, tossing her head back and laughing.

“Yeah, that sounds like Ida’s girl,” she agreed, wiping a dainty tear from her eye, “she was a real spitfire in her younger days, the stories she told Ivy when they were protestin’ together were wild.”

Sam was practically glowing with pride, and Jason had to admit that he would kinda like to meet her grandmother. He’d met her parents, and… well, maybe awesome skipped a generation.

Harley suddenly stopped, head cocking as she noticed something, a sly smile creeping across her face.

“So if they think you’ll run away with Ivy… whadda they think’ll happen if ya run into me?” She asked with a delicately studied innocence, examining her nails.

“Only good things,” Cass offered, grinning past Jason at Sam. Sam grinned back, giving Harley a shrug and a similarly innocent smile.

“Y’know, they’ve just never mentioned it. Clearly there’s no concerns there,” she agreed, and Jason snickered, raising his glass in a toast.

“None here,” he noted and Sam laughed, clinking her glass against his. Dick raised a hand, fighting a laugh.

“One concern for the integrity of Bruce’s skull?” He offered innocently, and laughed when Jason threw a napkin at him.

“If Bruce’s skull was gonna break it’d have done it years ago,” Steph opined as the voice of experience. Jason raised his glass to her too, but she was a little far to clink.

She grabbed hers up and raised it back anyway, and Sam filled the gap, clinking hers to Jason’s and then to Steph’s to pass it on.

“It’s good for him ta get his eggs scrambled,” Harley agreed from the other end of the table, raising her glass too, “and I’m gonna guess you did some percussive maintenance too that I’ll ask about later.”

“Bruce might still have a concussion,” Duke offered, not completely certain where he sat with this kind of joking, but the kid was new.

You had to watch Bruce try and kill himself going out on patrol with more bones broken than whole a couple times before you gave in to his indestructibility.

Shit, maybe he should ask Danny if Bruce was liminal. For all the guy was technically a default human, Jason knew literal aliens with a better grasp on humanity.

And ghosts, now.

Harley gave him a nod anyway and patted his hand.

“I’ll aim low then sugar, don’t you fret. But to answer yer other question, Sam, Batman’s gonna get Waylon out for me cuz he doesn’t want ‘im in Arkham any more ‘n we do. Bats wants us all ta get better, and Waylon does best left alone,” she explained with a shrug.

“Until you leave him unsupervised and he teams up with Riddler?” Tim asked with a slight smile.

Jason shook his head, leaning forward on his arms too.

“He wouldn’t do it for no reason. He asked what I’d done to upset Two Face, but I can’t think of anything.” They didn’t even cross paths often.

Dent had taken Red Hood’s claim on Crime Alley as a given, learned quickly that Jason didn’t give a shit about playing nice, and minded his business.

“You sound like you know him pretty well,” Tucker said with a slight frown, and Jason shrugged.

Yeah, Tucker wasn’t in on the Robin thing yet. Luckily there was an easy answer.

“I grew up in Gotham. You guys keep coming back and you’ll get a feel for most of ‘em too.”

Tucker hesitated for a moment, probably thinking back to Amity and their own ghostly rogues. Then he nodded, settling back to poke at his mostly finished plate.

Tim still didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t know Waylon the way Jason did. They’d never had the chance to talk beyond the usual Robin-and-Rogue.

Jason could prove his point tomorrow. Maybe bring Danny along.

And like the thought summoned him, Jason’s phone buzzed to a text from Danny.

‘DannyP: who tf is Constantine??👀👀🤣’

**

Bruce sucked in a deep breath, eye closing, and forced himself to exhale.

He fucking hated magic.

So. Analysis.

From what he understood of Constantine’s general capabilities, him being difficult to find by malicious forces was not unexpected. That seemed credible.

Did Bruce count as a malicious force?

A stern self inventory, past the part that insisted he’d never wish harm on a teammate on principle, and… yes.

He would never have followed the impulse, would have stomped it down the moment he found the man, but he couldn’t deny the urge to lay hands was there.

He’d even been devising new layers of paperwork to insist the man fill out. With, yes, malice in his heart. Just a little bit of spite.

If that counted into making the man impossible to contact… well, he’d bear it in mind. And talk with Zatanna and Dr Fate and see it they could fine tune those wards a little more.

No matter how angry he was about Amity Park, he didn’t want anything actually harmful to happen to a colleague. Even this colleague. Although if he had to pick one…

No. That wasn’t a helpful train of thought.

Taking another steadying breath, this one slower and more evenly, he glanced down at the car. Danny wouldn’t hear anything while inside, but that wouldn’t stop him opening a door to ask what the hold up was.

Forcing Brucie’s casual tones on was harder than normal, but that was expected.

“I can’t really talk about that right now. Can you come by to visit tonight?” Bruce paused, checking his watch. Coming up on seven. “In an hour or so?”

*

The smile dropped off Constantine’s face as quickly as it had formed. Of fucking course the bat wanted everyone to run around to his fuckin’ schedule.

Raising hell for John all fuckin’ night and all fuckin’ day but when John actually got back to him it was all “oh now’s not a good time”.

His more spiteful side wanted to insist on right now, he was a busy man and he had shit to do that Batman wouldn’t even wanna fuckin’ think about.

Shit, John didn’t like thinking about it.

But it was only an hour, and he could use the damn zeta tubes, and it wasn’t like he’d been planning on fuckin’ sleeping. Why would he do that?

And if it unfucked his communicators, he could use that hour to ask the Superboys what the fuck they were playing at in Alaska.

And then he could sleep, Bat off his ass and conscience clean. Fuck it.

“Yeah, whatever. Wanna tell me what’s got your damn panties in a twist in case there’s shit I need to get ready?”

So of course Bat-tastic said the two worst words Constantine had heard in his life.

“Amity Park.”

Fuck.

**

Bruce didn’t enjoy the sharp little intake of breath, followed by no sass whatsoever. It wasn’t easy to make John Constantine speechless.

No, this was definitely just satisfaction that the man knew the gravity of what he’d done. That whatever reasons he’d had, he knew Bruce would be waiting for a damn good explanation.

That there might be one.

Bruce didn’t like even considering that an ally would have done something so serious just because he didn’t want to deal with it. Even Constantine.

When the man hadn’t spoken almost a minute later, Bruce took pity on him.

“I’ll see you in an hour.”

Constantine managed a weak agreement and he nodded, satisfied at least that the man would still be there. And if he wasn’t, Bruce could work out a way to reach him again.

Someone had obviously found him to tell him Bruce was looking for him. And apparently there were consequences for Constantine too if he tried to avoid him.

He hesitated for a moment before getting back into the car. He’d been planning to ask Danny gently about Amity Park, to try and work out what had happened.

Something light that might make him lower his guard. Then turn the subject to Jason. How precisely Danny was helping him. What he knew of the pits.

They wouldn’t have time for a full interrogation, not even in the tail end of rush hour traffic, but it would be a start.

But did he want to tip his hand now? Before Constantine gave him the truth about Amity Park, when all it would take was a matter of hours?

Danny likely knew that Brucie was a mask, but it might be useful to keep it on just a little longer.

Light subjects only then. From what Dick and Tim had reported, Danny was equally likely to just drop some huge revelation to see what Bruce would do.

Yes.

Perhaps he could bait that tendency by being innocuous.

Bruce slid back into the driver’s seat, giving Danny his best, emptiest smile.

“So sorry about that. Just a business contact I’ve been having trouble tracking down, so I didn’t want to let him slip away again.” Honesty, in case he could tell.

They would need to get a better idea of Danny’s power-set. If Duke couldn’t do it alone, perhaps Tim’s observation skills could help.

Danny barely glanced up from his phone, shooting Bruce a quick grin before returning his attention to the screen.

“Yeah? Didn’t know anything got done over the new year, I’d have thought everyone was too hung over.” It sounded like a joke, a cheerful prod.

Bruce swore internally anyway, because he was right. Clearly he knew more than an average student.

He didn’t let it show, chuckling along good naturedly.

“Oh I’d have much preferred getting this done with before the new year, but some people are a little hard to get hold of,” he explained jovially, starting the car and backing out.

Danny hummed an agreement, not looking up from his phone. A sharp glance (he could always say he was checking the boy was strapped in) did not show him the screen.

When had Danny strapped in? Bruce would swear he hadn’t when he’d sat, but it was there now.

Clearly his apparent absorption was a trick. Intended to remind Bruce of a typical young adult, make him lower his guard.

Danny stifled a laugh just as they were leaving the garage, and Bruce barely resisted another effort to look over. The screen would still be tilted away.

His opponent was a cunning one.

Or he was overreacting. It could be a real innocence, not a calculated one. A young man paying more attention to his phone?

He wouldn’t have thought it sinister if it were Tim, Dick, Duke, any of their friends.

No.

He couldn’t take that chance. Not with Jason. He couldn’t afford to relax his guard.

It was unfair to Danny, unfair to both of them.

He’d lost Jason once by not paying close enough attention, and Bruce would be the very first to admit that he’d never gotten his boy back.

Jason had returned in body, mind, and soul, just like he’d wished and prayed for for so long. But there was a distance now that Bruce had no idea how to bridge.

He’d thought he was on the right path last night, but a constant nagging in his gut told him he was wrong.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw Jason’s shocked, white face when he’d apologised. It was a blessing he’d had enough to keep him from his bed.

He’d been so sure it was the right move. The next step to closing the distance between them. Offering Jason the public apology, the acknowledgement that Bruce had failed him.

But that was why Bruce would face gods and walk backwards into Hell before he let anything else try and take his baby boy from him again.

“Y’know, you could just tell Jason you love him.”

Bruce nearly crashed the car.

Luckily they were at a red light, so his reflexive slamming hit the brake, not the gas, and the car barely lurched.

When he was sure his heart was still beating, he chanced a glance over at Danny.

The boy was half smirking down at his phone, clearly aware of the consternation he’d caused, and looked up when he felt Bruce’s eyes on him.

And shrugged, like it was nothing.

“Dude, you’re brooding so hard there’s basically a black cloud over your head.”

Add mind reading to the list of suspected powers.

Bruce felt his eyes narrowing before rigid control snapped back into place, keeping his expression Brucie-open.

“What do you mean?” He asked, in a tone he knew gave nothing away.

Danny snorted like he’d told a joke.

“Man, I’m just saying. Jason barely thinks you fuckin’ like him, it’d save you both a lot of trouble if you’d just sit him down and tell him how you feel.”

Bruce hesitated for a long moment, staring into deep blue eyes that suddenly seemed as deep and unreadable as the deepest ocean. As old as time.

Then he forced his eyes back to the road as the light turned and cars started moving again.

That. Couldn’t be true. It was an attempt at manipulation.

A predator expertly analysing what he thought was Bruce’s greatest weakness, striking to do as much damage as he could.

Of course Jason knew that Bruce loved him. He must have. He had to.

There was no way this stranger who by all accounts Jason had known for barely a week could know more about Jason’s life than his own father.

**

Danny hummed softly to himself, most of his attention on his phone as he texted back and forth with Jason.

‘DannyP: ur dad is giving me the biggest cop energy rn 😳🚔🚔’

Mostly ignoring just the solid waves of angst emanating from Bruce like miasma. Poor guy was only wrapping himself tighter in his own head for Danny’s interjection.

‘JTodd: Yeah Dickie comes by it honestly.’

That was probably a sign Danny shouldn’t do it again.

‘DannyP: 👀👀 think he’s mad at me’

Danny wasn’t great at following signs. Or sitting quietly, in all honesty.

‘JTodd: No one told you not to fly back.’

‘DannyP: Imma make it worse 😈😈’

Tucking his feet up to the edge of his seat, he slumped down as low as he could, glancing up at Bruce through his bangs.

“Sooooooo, how was lunch with Vlad? You seem to have survived, so I’m gonna guess football didn’t come up much?” He prodded, still half suspecting Masters had been up to something.

Bruce wasn’t overshadowed, didn’t have any of Vladdie’s taint that said it had happened in the past, but Danny wasn’t gonna rule out something new.

And all the clenching the big guy was doing on the wheel and on his jaw looked kinda painful.

‘JTodd: I’ll give a touching speech at your funeral.’

Bruce did finally force himself to relax though, sucking in a breath like he’d forgotten he had to.

Mood. Danny forgot about breathing a fair chunk too. Didn’t always remember to do it at all.

His posture changed too, shifting forcefully back to the more lax, open lines of his public persona, but there wasn’t much point. Danny could still feel his aura locked shut like a steel trap.

Being Batman kinda seemed like it sucked so far, and Bruce hadn’t even been a high school hero. Guess being an adult didn’t really make everything easier after all.

The smile he shot Danny didn’t show any of the inner turmoil though, so kudos there.

“It was great, actually. Your godfather is a very charming man,” he added, and Danny stuck his tongue out.

“Oh we’re so not calling him that. He’s just Vladdie, nothing to do with me at all,” he corrected vehemently, making a face.

Checked his phone.

‘DannyP: ABORT ABORT ABORT MISSION HE LIKES VLAD 😡🤮😱’

Bruce made a curious noise beside him, and Danny huffed. There were some things that would have been simpler if Vlad had just been brain washing him.

“Oh? He speaks very highly of you, Danny. I’m a little surprised you don’t get along.” The big guy was clearly fishing, and Danny would give him something to catch alright.

“Yeah? Cuz all he’s ever said to me was that I’m weak, lazy, unmotivated, and will never amount to anything without him. Oh, and that he wants to kill my dad and marry my mom,” he added as an afterthought.

And watched Bruce from the corner of his eye. He looked honestly surprised, but Danny had already learned not to judge from his face.

He felt surprised too though. Surprised and suspicious.

‘JTodd: He’s a great judge of character.’

Fuck it was hard not to laugh at his just flawless acting when Danny had the cheat sheet into his heart.

They drove in silence for a block, Bruce apparently not sure what to say, and Danny gave him a pat on the elbow.

“Don’t feel bad. I dunno what he’s playing at either, but he’s really, really good at telling people what they want to hear.”

And didn’t that do some interesting things to the guy’s aura. Danny had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing.

No matter what he fucking said, it seemed to be convincing Bruce that he was sketchier and sketchier.

‘DannyP: okay but literally every word i say’s making him more and more suspicious and he didn’t even get whammied this is bs 😔😒💔’

He did kinda regret that one pretty much immediately, a sudden wave of protective anger pulsing through his aura.

Making a face again, he focused on wrapping Jason up in his own, soothing him with gentle reminders safe-safe-i’m fine-not hurting me.

Yeah, there were some fucking Issues with a capital I that Danny deadass just wasn’t gonna touch until Jazz got a look in.

No matter what though, he didn’t fucking like what it told him about Bruce. About Jason’s relationship with Bruce.

Maybe he shoulda brought the Fenton thermos. He usually had one on him, but his suit hadn’t come with pockets you could hide a thermos in.

For all Sam bitched about her dress, she coulda carried a rocket launcher and no one would have known.

He was so busy focusing on Jason he didn’t actually notice that Bruce was talking to him again until the man had repeated his name a couple of times, now sounding worried.

Feeling suspicious. Sounding worried.

“Danny?”

Danny shook his head, hair flopping around his face and half his attention still on Jason’s cranky ass.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” he said still half distracted, and felt the suspicion ramp up another notch.

For all that he couldn’t laugh aloud, wrapping the desire and the need to laugh around Jason seemed to be helping. He settled enough to text back anyway.

‘JTodd: Sorry. Probably my fault.’

Well that was bullshit.

“I said I’m sorry, Danny. He mentioned you had a difficult past, but I had no idea…”

And yeah, that probably was too. Easy to prioritise though.

‘DannyP: ur gonna be Jazz’s final psych project if u keep that up and i will not save u 😤🫡👻’

‘DannyP: 🖕💋he’s a grown ass adult and so am i and i can be a sketchy bitch just fine on my own sir’

And since Bruce was going to take whatever he did as suspicious anyway, Danny might as well get him warmed up for Harley.

“Yeah, well, don’t go throwing a public party to all of high society about it. Trust me, I do not need a second creepy billionaire trying to make me a show pony.”

Another block of silence, but Danny was satisfied that this one was at least less certain. Felt like a big decision was afoot.

Finally Bruce sighed and deflated, and for once his aura matched the gesture.

“It was a mistake, wasn’t it?” It almost wasn’t a question. Danny figured that progress deserved a reward anyway. Kinda.

“Well again, Harley Quinn came back from the Amazon to kick your ass about it, so yes. I think we can both agree that was a bad life choice.”

Bruce’s grip tensed on the steering wheel a little and Danny relented. Fuck him for being a softie.

Even when he was also still kinda pissed, it was hard to ignore the sudden doubt, fear, guilt suddenly stinking up the car.

The anger, much more familiar. Danny knew exactly what to do about angry people, but Bruce’s anger felt a little too familiar. A little too internal-only.

“He said you’d never told him you were sorry before, man. Not even once until you shoved him right into the spotlight. What does it say that you can say it to me but not him?” He asked softly.

Bruce was quiet for most of the rest of the drive, but since he actually seemed to be thinking about what Danny had said, Danny left him to it.

It was as they were finally pulling up to the gates of Wayne Manor that he spoke again.

“I may not have been much of a father to Jason, but I won’t see him hurt again. Not if I can help it.” There wasn’t actually any menace in the tone.

Just a stone cold certainty that was way, way scarier.

Well. Probably for anyone who wasn’t the actual ghost king. Or just uncontrollably sarcastic.

Danny grinned.

“Well if this is gonna be your shovel talk, you should be aware that I’ve already been six feet under. It takes a lot to scare me,” he teased, resting his bare feet on the console in front of him.

Outside, the gate swung slowly open. Bruce took advantage of the pause to stare directly at him again, those blue eyes suddenly piercing and not even trying to hide the intelligence within.

“Noted.”

And okay. Maybe Danny needed to invest in some more one liners, cuz that was way fucking cooler than any complicated threat or pun.

Kinda hated how cool it was, actually.

He let just a little of the eldritch creep into the smile he gave back.

“Oh, and Bruce? Samesies. Seems like Jason has a lot more people who have his back than he thinks he does, but now? He’s also got me. And Harley’s probably the nice one.”

If the guy was going to think the fucking worst of Danny no matter what, might as well use that to try and make him be a less shitty dad.

Shovel talking the Ghost King? That took some balls.

Bruce didn’t seem to be noticeably intimidated though. Just stared at Danny for a long moment, eyes narrowed, before he nodded again.

“You don’t know Harley well,” he remarked dryly, heading on up the ridiculously long driveway to the house.

Danny didn’t actually manage to pull all the way back into human tones before he laughed, the shadows stretching and creaking around the sound.

“Yeah, fair point.�� He sure as shit wouldn’t argue it where she could hear him after all.

**

It took Steph to finally bring the conversation back around to the thermos.

They’d moved on to telling Harley the actual details of what had happened at the gala, from Bruce’s crimes to Sam and Danny’s.

Harley was absolutely delighted by the whole story, and it was Steph who gave Sam a gentle nudge, grinning at her.

“Y’know, I never got around to asking why you even had that giant thermos. I was with you most of the night and I never saw you drinking from it?” She asked.

Sam chuckled softly, reaching into the deep pocket of Cass’s pants and pulling out the thermos in question. She always had one on her.

Tucker was supposed to as well, but if he knew she was gonna be there? Yeah, he tended to forget. Or save the space for something more interesting.

“Oh, this? Yeah this really isn’t a drinking thermos,” she explained, setting it on the table and sharing an amused glance with Tucker.

Maybe side eying Jason. It was gonna be a drinking thermos for him, poor bastard.

Steph’s eyebrows rose and she reached out, taking the thermos when Sam nodded her assent. Turning it over in her hands.

“Wait, so it’s strictly a combat thermos?” She asked like it was a joke, grinning at Sam as she unscrewed the lid.

Tucker stifled a laugh from across the table and Sam grinned back, leaning back in her chair. The table had been cleared of dinner by now, but dessert they’d wait on Bruce and Danny for.

Speaking of Danny…

“Actually, yeah. The Fenton Thermos is pretty much our best tool for the rogue attacks we get in Amity Park,” she explained with a modest shrug.

Steph looked even more surprised, hefting the unexpected weight of what looked like an empty thermos.

“It made a pretty good throwing weapon,” Dick offered from the end of the table. Tucker snickered and shook his head, holding out a hand to Steph.

“It’s not actually meant to be for throwing, but that definitely worked,” he agreed, gesturing for the thermos.

Turning it to show the table, Tucker pointed to the big green button on the side. The big, obvious green button that you could pretty easily press by accident.

“You can capture ghosts with it once they’ve been weakened, and then Danny lets them out back in the Ghost Zone. It doesn’t actually hurt them, but apparently it’s not comfortable.”

“How do you know, if it only catches ghosts?” Duke asked, a slight frown on his face and he leaned forward to see around Tim.

Tucker shot him a smug grin, twirling the thermos and passing it back to Sam. Clearly enjoying his time in the spotlight, and Sam wouldn’t begrudge him that.

Not when she could bully him about showing off for his new boyfriend later. It was kinda cute watching that hero worship turning into an actual proper crush.

Cuter that Tim was being just an average guy, and Tucker was still losing his shit over it. Sweet revenge for all those times the boys teased her about her crush on Val.

“Well, for one thing pretty much all of our ghosts have stopped trying to attack these days, and some of them are actually pretty chill? Buuuut you can also use it to catch half ghosts,” Tucker explained with a smug grin.

Sam chuckled, taking the cap back from Steph and screwing it back on.

“Danny says it’s like being squished into a really tight sleeping bag. Worse if someone else is in there with him, but they can’t really move or fight in there.”

“If someone’s been a real pain in the ass sometimes Danny keeps them in Soup Time for a week or so as punishment,” Tucker added, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms behind his head.

“Isn’t that unethical?” Dick asked, down beside Damian, and Sam raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, do the people you arrest only get locked up for a day or so?” She asked dryly and Dick grinned, raising both hands.

“They don’t get locked in really tight sleeping bags. But what happens after they’re let out? They just go back in the Ghost Zone?” He prodded, not quelled by her stare this time.

Good. More fun when people fought back. And, for a cop, Dick wasn’t really all that bad.

He’d probably get fired for that pretty soon.

Sam shrugged, taking over the explanation for now and tucking the thermos back into her pocket.

“Pretty much. Most of the ghosts pretty much just showed up to fight Phantom and the trouble they caused around town was part of that.”

“Phantom being Danny’s superhero name?” Tim asked, looking extremely covetously at where the thermos had disappeared under the table.

Sam stuck her hand in the top of the pocket, keeping it on the lid of the thermos. They didn’t exactly have enough to spare.

Of course Tucker swept in when his boytoy had a question.

“Yeah, that’s him. The town used to call him Inviso-Bill until he actually told someone to call him Phantom instead,” he added, snickering.

Sam couldn’t resist chuckling along; honestly, if she ever learned who’d started that nickname she’d send them flowers. It was fucking priceless.

“Yeah. There were some rowdier ghosts, usually when their Obsessions got triggered, but honestly? Once they were beaten most of them settled down. It was just the ones that wanted to brawl with Danny that kept coming back.”

“We didn’t really have anything else to do with them either,” Tucker pointed out with a snicker, shaking his head, “it was Soup Time, back home, or the Fenton family dissection table.”

Their hosts looked suitably disturbed at that, Harley leaning in from her end of the table to be the voice of the room.

“The Fenton family what the fuck? Didn’t ya say the kid was a Fenton?” She asked sharply.

Sam ran a quick mental check of the list Danny had cleared them to talk about. Yeah, the Fenton parents were on it.

Just not the Ghost King stuff, anything about Jason, and anything specific about Ellie. No worries there.

She shrugged again, fingers tapping on the table. From her guess and Jason’s texting, Danny should be back soon.

“The Fenton parents were the ones who made a portal to the Ghost Zone in the first place. They were really interested in dissecting and studying any ghosts they could catch for a long time,” she explained dryly, not bothering to hide her feelings on the matter.

Duke looked a little sick. Maybe she should tone it down some, for the young and innocent among them.

“But that’d include Danny,” Dick pointed out, suspicion rising towards horror.

Sam fixed her gaze on him, not letting him look away.

“Yeah. It did. Which is why the three of us spent our high school years fighting ghosts and protecting the town in secret, cuz if we told anyone we thought Danny would go on the table.”

“They totally took it way better than we thought though,” Tucker tacked on quickly, searching something up on his PDA, probably for pictures of the GAV. “They’re Phantom’s biggest fans now.”

He tilted the screen to show Tim, whose jaw dropped.

Yeah, to be fair, words didn’t do the GAV’s new paint job justice. Tucker passed the tablet on to Tim to show Duke and Harley, and it made its way around the table.

They were probably running out of time.

Sam leaned in, catching the attention of the rest of the table and making eye contact with most of them.

“Some basic etiquette though, before Danny gets back? You never, ever ask a ghost how they died. They might bring it up, but you don’t ask. Okay?”

“Wait, why not?” Tim asked, his brows furrowing as he turned back to her. “Isn’t that the first thing they do in all those ghost hunting shows?”

Which. Well. Sam had a whole special rant about ghost hunting shows and their bullshit, but before she got started Jason cut her off.

“Cuz dying fucking sucks, Timmy. Do you wanna bug Steph or Dick about the times they died?” He asked pointedly, and Tim flushed.

Yeah, that kinda explained the death taint Sam could just about taste from half the table. She wasn’t going to mention it, because she had some damn manners.

Tim seemed to have gotten the point though, stammering a quick apology and sinking back into his seat. Tucker gave him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder.

“Pretty much the first thing you gotta learn about real ghosts is that ghost hunters have no idea what they’re doing. They don’t even ecto infuse their tech,” he added with a derisive snort.

Sam rolled her eyes, stifling a grin. Alfred had disappeared, which probably meant Danny was imminent.

“Harder to do without a ghost or half ghost on your team, Tuck. But more to the point, do you guys wanna see the Fenton Thermos in action?” She asked innocently, pulling it back out of her pocket to wiggle.

Once again, Harley spoke for the table.

“Hell yeah. Are ya gonna throw it at Brucie again too?” She asked brightly, and Sam paused, considering.

Finally sighed and shook her head.

“Probably not. I’ll let you handle him,” she decided, smirking as Harley reached back down for her trusty bedazzled bat.

“That’s what the ol’ Therapy Bat’s for,” Harley agreed brightly, getting to her feet. She’d clearly clocked Alfred’s exit too. And the approaching sets of footsteps.

Sam grinned and readied the thermos.

**

Bruce had almost forgotten that Harley would be waiting until Danny reminded him. An unusual lapse for him, but he had a lot on his mind.

The only thing he wanted to do was get down to the cave and talk to Constantine; to finally get some answers, both on what had gone wrong in Amity Park and precisely what was keeping them out now.

He had the very tiniest bit of hope that one question might also hold the answer to the other; that it was perhaps something Constantine had done, or could undo.

He did not like having to rely on biased secondary sources for data. It was frustrating to run into so many dead ends.

Luckily for him though, Danny had reminded him, which meant he could take Harley aside, find out what she wanted, and get it dealt with instead of going straight to the cave and being surprised.

As little as he liked John Constantine, he wouldn’t subject the man to Harley if he could help it. Harley was something of a kryptonite to many of the magicians; she broke their rules in ways they couldn’t reconcile.

Bruce absolutely did not doubt Zatanna that Harley had temporarily sold herself to a demon prince and within 24 hours annoyed him so much that he gave her back, deal intact.

She was a force to be reckoned with. And privately… Bruce would hang up the cowl if Constantine decided he wanted to give her methods a try on top of his own.

No. Best keep them as far away from each other as possible.

So he was accompanying Danny and Alfred to the family dining room, where he’d collect Harley and take her to his office.

Half an hour to get through whatever she wanted, and then he could go down and talk to Constantine. The perfect plan.

Part of him hoped that Danny had been right, and she was here to explain what he’d done wrong with Jason.

Bruce would be the first to admit that he just… couldn’t seem to do right when it came to his second son.

He loved Jason dearly, but his death was something Bruce had never gotten over. He’d seen Jason so many times, as he died and as Bruce imagined he’d have grown over those years.

It had been hard for him to believe Jason really was himself, even if he looked nothing like Bruce had always expected. He’d always been so small.

No. He’d refused to believe it. Refused to believe the kind, loving boy he’d known could have become this large and angry killer.

It had coloured their relationship ever since. The things Jason had done, the things Bruce had done to stop him.

The fury with which Jason had forced his real identity down Bruce’s throat until he couldn’t deny it anymore. The one person he thought he could never let down again.

Jason was calmer now. Had a lid on the rage, and just plain walked away when he was on the edge of his control. Bruce admired that, as much as he could.

The only thing Bruce knew how to do with his emotions was push them aside and try to keep soldiering on, and it had cost his family so many times.

He’d thought he was getting better, but when it came to Jason… Bruce knew he still wasn’t thinking clearly. He’d upset Jason at the gala, he knew he had.

He’d seen it in his face, even if Jason had covered it before reaching the stage. He just wasn’t sure how.

Bruce prided himself on his ability to read faces. He was certainly no Cass, but it was his most used skill. Jason’s had never been a mystery to him before.

But somehow all Bruce could see in the older Jason’s face was the shadows of the bruises, the beating that face had worn the last time Bruce held him in his arms.

Cold. Lifeless. A death mask that only ever seemed to clear under Lazarus green rage.

He didn’t know when his baby boy had become so unreadable to him. What part of the horrors which Jason had lived through had made him put on a mask so thick Bruce couldn’t see through it.

And he was afraid to ask. Afraid of what he might see under that mask, and afraid to hear everything Jason had been put through because of Bruce’s failure.

He could have asked Danny in the car. At least where he’d gone wrong last night. They’d been alone, without anyone to overhear. And yet…

Bruce couldn’t bring himself to trust Danny. Oddly he found himself liking the boy more since Danny had threatened him, but his doubts remained.

Vlad had been personable, charming, and open during their meal together, and Bruce knew all too well how vile men could put on a front like that.

Normally he would have trusted Danny’s impression of Vlad over his own implicitly; it was part of the reason he brought his children to galas.

Brucie Wayne was too well known, too powerful, too influential. No one wanted to show him anything but their best, the sides they thought he would like to see.

The truest measure of a person came in the way they treated those they saw as beneath them, and for most adults that would automatically always include children.

Danny’s words tracked with the odd moments of quiet regret in Masters’ face when he talked about his godson. Far more egregious than the “misunderstandings” he’d hinted at, but a testament nonetheless.

There had been no trace of a lie in Danny’s voice or face. And yet.

There was no fear either. Not a trace of concern at being alone in the room together before Bruce returned.

None of the wariness one would naturally expect when a young man faced a much older adult who had at the very least made serious threats towards his family and possibly psychologically abused him.

It didn’t make sense. There was no right or wrong way to respond to an abuser, but Danny’s open antagonism of Vlad pointed at something else. A piece Bruce was still missing of what passed between them.

There were too many unanswered questions about Danny Fenton, and the situation with Jason was too delicate to rely on a single unknown factor.

No.

Danny may take advantage of any perceived weakness to steer him wrong, push him to another mistake, widen the rift between Bruce and his son.

It wasn’t safe. Wasn’t the plan.

For all that she’d been a rogue, Bruce trusted Harley implicitly… at least in matters of the heart. On the off chance she was there for anything else, he could still ask her before she left.

Maybe after he was done with Constantine.

Of course no one was around to give him answers when he had plenty of spare time on his hands. No, they had to come all at once.

Fine.

He may have to leave Jason with Danny for now, but they would hardly be unsupervised. The others would keep a watch for him while he got answers.

Bruce was actually beginning to feel pretty good about the evening by the time they reached the dining room.

And then the door opened, Danny walked through, and vanish in a blur of bright blue light.

Bruce threw up a hand to shield his eyes as light flashed across him, and it went dark a moment later.

Sam Manson was holding the thermos again (his head throbbed a warning), screwing the lid back on with a satisfied smirk.

Danny Fenton was gone. Just gone. Like he’d never been there, until.

“I fucking hate you so much.”

That was Danny’s voice, no doubt about it, coming from… the thermos.

What.

As Steph would say.

The fuck.

**

Harley was the first to recover her voice, throwing both hands into the air and whooping.

“Now THAT is what I call a party trick! You kids ever wanna come out Coney Island way ya can stay with me an’ take a turn at th’ Freakshow if ya want!”

The room froze, temperature actually plummeting as the Amity Parkers both flinched.

(Danny mighta also flinched but he was in a soup thermos, it was harder to tell.)

Tucker spoke up, making a face and exchanging a look with Sam.

“Uh… pass, thanks. Had some pretty bad experiences with clowns and circuses,” he explained, and Harley nodded understandingly.

No matter how much he liked to pretend he was, Joker was hardly the first asshole to wear the face paint.

It was why she didn’t wear hers if she was gonna be anywhere around Jason.

Not like she’d liked the full face stuff Joker did anyway. She could have a lot more fun with eyeshadow and a little lipstick, but some people needed to be terrified.

Harley Quinn’s war paint was satisfyingly terrifying enough that she’d pull it out for special occasions.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” she agreed easily, noted the air began to warm.

So it was one of them doing it. And from the way the two she could see relaxed just after, she’d put her money on Danny. Made sense with the ghost thing.

Anyway, she’d come here for a reason. Strolling casually over towards Brucie, she ruffled a hand through Jason’s and then Sam’s hair.

“Yer all still welcome to come visit though, just call ahead an’ I’ll tell the crew to put the theatrics on hold. I got a whole floor full of puppies and kittens that need some love,” she told them cheerfully.

And paused at a sudden horrible ripping sound, like part of the universe had been velcro and just pulled itself apart.

A glowing green hole opened just behind Sam’s chair and Danny’s head poked through, just a little below Harley’s height.

“You have a fucking what?”

She ruffled his hair too, grinning.

“Yeah, building I inherited had a free floor my aunt used ta rent, I didn’t want anyone upsettin’ my crew and all these lil cuties were just wasting away at the pound so Ivy did me up an indoor park. There’s about thirty of ‘em,” she explained brightly.

Sam snickered, settling comfortably in her turned chair.

“Bet cleaning up after that many is a treat,” she commented dryly and Harley tipped her a wink.

“It’s no trouble! I do the scoopin’ and once a week we load the big bags up on th’ roof catapult and shoot ‘em into the city. At the mayor’s house if he’s bein’ trouble.”

“Harley, I have a theory about who might want you gone,” Duke put in from the other end of the table, all dry sarcasm.

Harley laughed and blew him a kiss, giving her bat a lazy twirl.

“Hey, if he wants me ta stop all he’s gotta do is stop bein’ a pain in my ass an’ I’ll shoot ‘em at the dump,” she told him cheerfully, then turned back to Danny.

Back in the black hair. Didn’t seem like it mattered if he was actively a ghost or not gettin’ sucked inta the thermos. Interesting.

“You need a tow out?” She asked, other hand dropping back to his hair to give a gentle tug.

Danny gave her a slightly suspicious look.

“Do you promise no mind control or creepy clown shit?” He asked warily, and Harley loosed her grip to pat him on the cheek.

“Pinky promise, suga. I’m about to go give Brucie ‘is own private dose of scary clown shit that I’m sure he’ll completely understand that he wants to be in private,” she added more pointedly, giving Bruce a sharp look over her shoulder.

Behind her, Danny shrugged and pulled the rest of his body through the green rip, giving Sam a smack upside the head as his feet touched the floor and snatching the thermos from her.

“Confiscated til you’ll only use it’s power responsibly,” he told her, sticking his tongue out and dropping down into his seat, thermos held preventatively back and over his head.

Which made it all too easy for Jason to reach up and grab it from him, tucking it into the front of his hoodie pocket when Danny whipped around indignantly.

“You’re not responsible either,” Jason pointed out smugly and Danny sputtered but didn’t quite find words to argue.

They were fucking adorable.

If she didn’t have ta go try and beat the sense back inta Brucie’s head she’d have the time of her life just pinching their cheeks and winding them up about what to her studied eye was a pair of oblivious fresh forming crushes.

Young love was just the cutest when it was in that awkward blushy denial phase.

Yeah, Brucie was getting an extra whap for tearing her away from that.

Turning back to the big man, she prodded her bat into the center of his chest.

“So! Whaddaya think, big guy? Wanna give a nice big public apology for ya fuck up or shall we go talk somewhere in private?” She asked firmly, emphasizing those last words into a threat.

Bruce’s attention snapped away from glaring at Danny and Jason to fix on her, clearly analyzing her words. Of all the hopeless little shits…

She was gonna find someone to get him his proper diagnosis. Had to at this point.

Couldn’t be her, she was technically a conflict of interest, but holy fuck the man screamed emotional disregulation with a hefty side of autism spectrum.

At least he’d know what direction he needed help in, as if he wouldn’t promptly ignore any advice that included “talk about ya damn feelings”. Too bad for him.

She gave him another firm poke with the bat and he nodded sharply, gaze snapping from her around to the door.

His shoulders settled just a little, posture relaxing in what she knew was relief as he motioned for her to follow. Still looked tense as hell, but she’d probably only get a dime back for bouncing a nickel off him now.

That was real relaxed for Brucie.

Maybe he was finally self aware enough to accept that he needed some help with all the emotional stuff.

Good. Maybe she’d only do one kneecap.

**

As Harley followed Bruce out of the room, Sam’s phone began buzzing dramatically in her pocket. Abandoning her quest for the thermos, she pulled it out and glanced down.

Grinned wickedly. She’d been expecting this for a while now actually.

“Aw, look, my parents saw our selfies on Twitter,” she cooed sarcastically, Manson Party Voice making a brief return.

Danny scooted just a little away from the still buzzing phone.

“So are you gonna get that?” He asked as Alfred brought him a perfectly reheated plate. “What? Oh, thanks.”

Sam shrugged, hit speakerphone, and set it on the table. They’d posted those pictures pretty much solely for the incoming reaction.

“Hey mom, what’s up?” She said sweetly, still in her public facing voice.

Her mother did not sound nearly as composed.

“SAMANTHA. Where ARE you?! What are you wearing?! Where are your clothes and WHY, in the name of all that’s good, are you anywhere near HARLEY QUINN?! Have you been kidnapped?!”

Sam rolled her eyes hard enough that Tucker faked a fatal injury across the table. She flipped him off as Tim and Duke stifled laughs.

“Yes, mother, I have been kidnapped and just answered my phone completely normally. I’m at the Waynes’,” she added quickly, before her mother could jump to conclusions.

And gave her some new conclusions to jump to instead, but who cared. Still, something seemed to be sticking in her mom’s mind.

“With Harley Quinn?” She asked suspiciously after a moment’s silence.

Which, to be fair, was kind of a good point.

“Apparently she’s a family friend? Like Grandma and Ivy,” Sam added delicately, a vicious satisfaction rising through her.

She’d gotten to say her piece at the gala yesterday and had thought she was done, but. Well. Years of restriction and so on.

She was definitely still having fun winding her parents up.

Her mom’s sharp intake of breath was clearly audible even over the phone, and then the shouting started again.

“Samantha MANSON do not even THINK about going anywhere with that woman! You have responsibilities! School! Your work! We’re coming to pick you up RIGHT NOW, and… where are your CLOTHES?!”

Alfred cleared his throat from behind them, where he’d stayed from delivering Danny’s dinner. Sam half turned and he raised a brow, inclining his head slightly.

She scooted her chair out of the way to let him get closer to the phone, waving a hand in open invitation.

“If I may interject,” Alfred said calmly, not a trace that anything was even slightly amiss, “the young lady’s clothes are in the dryer at present. They will be finished shortly.”

Another long silence. Her mom probably realizing that Sam had her on speaker. And that she would still be on speaker the next time she spoke.

Finally she choked out a terse, “thank you. I do hope she has been behaving herself. We will be there to pick you up in half an hour, Sammy, and we will Have Words.”

Which Sam kinda doubted, given where the hotel was and how long it had taken Danny and Bruce to get back, but time would tell.

At least they weren’t hiring a helicopter.

It sucked to have to leave, but she’d have needed to head out soon anyway. Her flight back to university would be leaving this evening, and at least this way she could hang out with the others until her parents arrived.

No reason not to needle them more though.

“Aw but mom, I’m having such a good time hanging out with Cass,” she sighed, switching from Party to Heartfelt Woe expertly.

Down beyond Jason, Cass stifled a giggle. It clearly sent Sam’s mom into another spiral of conflicting emotions; delight, hope, ecstasy, and ongoing horror at the presence of Harley.

Who, technically, was no longer present in the room, but telling her mom that would only make her feel better, so Sam wasn’t gonna bother.

Honestly, if she wanted to run away and be an ecoterrorist with Pamela Isley, she could just ask Grandma to text her. She didn’t need kidnapping.

Still, apparently the risk of a close contact with Poison Ivy outweighed her mom’s desire to see her cozy up with the Waynes.

It’d have been real sweet if it had been a worry for Sam’s health instead of a worry about what Sam would do to other peoples’ health. The lack of trust stung, truly.

“We’ll be there in half an hour, Sammy. Get your clothes back on and say thank you for having you,” her mom warned, tone sharp and clipped.

And then hung up the phone before anyone could argue, because while she never used to listen to Sam before, she did somehow still know her. Ah well.

Sam sighed, stuffing the phone back into her borrowed pocket.

“Guess my parole has ended. I’ve gotta get back for my next semester anyway, but you have my number?” She asked Steph, looking from her back to Cass.

Both women nodded enthusiastically, Steph sighing and slumping forward into the table.

“Do you really have to go? Harley probably won’t be done with Brucie by then, you’ll miss the best part!”

But in all honesty, Sam wasn’t too upset about that. She’d made her feelings perfectly clear via thermos, and if Jason wasn’t satisfied with Bruce’s real apology she could always come back.

So she shrugged, grinning.

“Guess it’s my turn to get the video recap once it’s all over. You guys’ll film it for me, right?” She asked, looking from Danny to Tucker.

Both of whom gave her a thumbs up.

“We should make a new group chat,” Tucker mused eagerly, already pulling his phone up, “one for all of us.”

“Then we’d know which galas you were coming to!” Steph agreed at once, her own phone magically appearing in hand.

Dick snickered, leaning back in his seat.

“Said like Steph’s ever let Bruce drag her to one against her will,” he teased and Steph flipped him off.

“Hey, if you’d had the good sense not to let him adopt you you wouldn’t have to do them either,” Steph told him primly. Dick rolled his eyes.

“I’m his ward, not adopted,” he argued mostly futilely, and Sam snickered.

“And still have to go apparently. Doesn’t the ward thing end once you’re a legal adult?” She asked innocently.

Dick gave her a deadpan stare.

“Ma’am, if you want to try and wrest an orphan from the hands of Bruce Wayne you be my fucking guest, I gave up years ago.”

Which, fair. Their rifts had been legendary enough to make the circuit. She toasted him with her phone and settled back.

“Point taken. If being a cop didn’t make him give you up nothing will,” she added slyly, and Dick mimed grievous injury, slumping forward onto the table as the others laughed.

Grinning her triumph, Sam turned back to Alfred.

“So if you just show me where the laundry room is I can grab my clothes?” She offered, trying yet again to be helpful.

Being from a rich family didn’t mean having no damn manners, no matter how often it looked like it.

The old man gave her another of his extremely arch expressions, an eyebrow rising as if to question her impertinence. He had to be fucking with her.

“I shall bring your clothes to the downstairs bathroom on this hall when they are done so that you may change, Miss Manson,” he said coolly.

She’d never heard anything like it.

It didn’t sound like he was upset or offended the way people usually did when their voices iced over that sharply. Just… not an ounce of wiggle room.

Not a sliver of a hint that anything he was saying would not happen exactly as he’d decreed it. He sounded more imperious than a king, and she’d seen those.

Sam kinda imagined that’d be what Clockwork would sound like if she ever met the guy.

Duke misinterpreted her decidedly impressed stare with a wry chuckle, apparently misinterpreting her expression.

Fair, since he couldn’t know she was comparing him to the living manifestation of Time.

Well. Ghostly manifestation. Same difference.

“Miss Manson’s probably the best you’ll get out of him,” Duke said almost apologetically, grinning. “It’s gonna be that or Miss Samantha.”

Which admittedly was enough to make her turn to face him, curiosity peaked.

“What do you mean?” She asked, glancing back up at Alfred.

She couldn’t read anything but serenity in his face, but mild amusement practically radiated off him. She’d have to ask Danny what he saw in his aura.

Dick took this one too, sitting back in his seat and grinning at her.

“Alfie’s serious about the whole “proper titles and full names” thing. I’ve been trying for almost twenty years to make him call me “Dick”, and I think he’d be slower to give that up than Bruce’d be to unadopt me,” he explained cheerfully, arm tossed over the back of his chair.

Alfred treated him to a slowly raised eyebrow too.

“As you say, Master Richard,” he agreed placidly and Sam pressed her lips together on a smile.

She didn’t have to turn around to know exactly what face Danny would be making. The last thing he needed was another scary old man full naming him.

And right on cue…

“Uh… can I specifically request Mister Fenton then?” Danny asked and sure enough when she turned, yup, he even had his hand in the air like a child.

Alfred treated him to that calm stare as well.

“May I ask why, Mister Daniel?” He asked, clearly prodding despite every line of both face and posture oozing nothing but polite respect.

Danny fully flinched, which was interesting. He barely reacted whenever Vlad said his name.

Sam adjusted her opinion of Alfred along a couple “scarier than Vlad” levels.

“I have name-related trauma from another billionaire who refuses to call me anything but that,” Danny admitted sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s a really not-fun association.”

“Vlad again?” Tim asked from across the table, sounding sympathetic.

Danny pulled a face at him, sort of grimacing more than a smile.

“Oh yeah. And let’s just say he also does it in super bad situations, so I’d be happier to just never hear it again.”

Sam peaked back over her shoulder at Alfred, wondering what he’d do with this news.

If Danny was gonna be a fixture in Jason’s life (and let’s be honest, he’d be a fixture in Jason’s bedroom by the end of the month), and Jason was a fixture in Alfred’s… they’d see more of each other.

Everyone knew Bruce had been basically raised by Alfred. If he was half as emotionally constipated…

But there was an actual human expression on the old man’s face now, and it looked a damn sight like shame. He cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him.

“My apologies, Mister Fenton. Would you perhaps prefer Mister Danny?” He asked, which would have seemed completely innocuous on its own.

Dick slammed both fists into the table, making half the table burst into giggles.

“Fucking SERIOUSLY?! Is it just me! This is bullshit Alfie!” He declared dramatically.

Tim looked equally gobsmacked, jaw on the proverbial floor as he stared at Alfred, and even Steph looked put out and impressed.

Danny, deeply confused but relieved, stuck his tongue out at Dick.

“Hey, if you want another overly possessive and creepy billionaire determined to control your life you’re welcome to take him off my hands,” he declared smugly, and Sam snorted a laugh.

There was a decided devilry in young Damian’s face too, which vanished almost immediately after it appeared as the youngest spoke up.

“Honestly, Richard, you must admit that Danny’s situation is decidedly more grave than your own,” he said simply, a strong undercurrent of smugness under the words.

Tim threw both hands into the air so hard he almost tipped his chair over.

“Him too?! Come the fuck ON!” He proclaimed to the world at large as Duke snorted half a glass of water out of his nose in a choked laugh.

Tim gave him a hearty slap on the back that was probably supposed to help, the younger boy still wheezing and gasping for air, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him.

There was clearly something of an inside joke going on, and it wasn’t exactly a complicated one.

Danny had already settled back in his seat, perfectly happy with the consternation he’d caused, and Sam joined him.

Watching the dramatics of the extended Wayne clan was even better at home than it had been at the gala. For a show this good, she’d have bought tickets.

**

As she closed the office door behind her, Harley took a moment to give Bruce another, slower once over.

It had been a while since she saw him last, and between what Selina had told her and what the kids told her, she wanted a read on his headspace.

He looked… well, like he had a stick up his ass a mile high, but that was pretty much default for him when he wasn’t being Brucie. Never learned how to take a breath, that guy.

But from the way he moved straight to his desk, not even pausing to see if she shut the door before dropping into his seat, she’d put money on “tired”.

Not just regular nightlife tired either, if he showed it this easily. Freshly shaved, dressed immaculately, face done up with minimal but flattering makeup.

He’d put himself together pretty today, but something was cracking underneath.

Once she was satisfied she’d gotten the big picture, she sauntered after him and hopped up to sit on his desk, foot pressed firmly to the middle of his chest to go for the details.

“So, Brucie, do ya know why I’m here?” She asked expectantly. It’d tell her a lot about where they were starting from; it was hard to fool the big bat, and none of ‘em had been trying.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at her foot, but wisely didn’t move to touch it. Clever boy. He might win a physical fight if they got serious, but he also knew she was damn good at what she did.

If they threw down, she wouldn’t be helping him untwist that mess in his head. And he wouldn’t be walking away unscathed either.

No good with some fresh heroes who weren’t in on the Secret around. She could assume he’d made the calculations, but none of them showed. And wouldn’t it be nice if he hadn’t needed to?

Instead he sighed, leaning further back in his chair and rubbing both hands down his face.

Harley adjusted her estimate from “tired” to “fucking exhausted”. Not a good sign.

“I hope it has something to do with Selina texting you last night about the gala,” was all he said though, cryptic fuck.

Harley pushed with her toes just enough to make the chair roll back.

“Specifically, Brucie. If you can tell me what ya did wrong I’ll make it easier on you,” she teased, waving her bat playfully.

Like they didn’t both know the real damage would be with her words. Bruce preferred the bat though. In all ways, which, ha! She could still rock a killer joke.

He gave her one of his grouchy bat glares too, then slumped. Practically pre-broken. Something had to be up.

“I gave a speech. I… apologized to Jason for not being there when he…” he trailed off and Harley nodded, willing to accept that. Hard topics, and not one they’d discuss today.

Not that she wasn’t waiting with baited breath for Bruce to FINALLY decide he wanted to unload some o’ that trauma. But hey, baby steps.

He looked back up a second later, the mask gone as he met her eyes. He looked agonized.

For Bruce, anyway. Perfectly normal to anyone who didn’t really know how he ticked. But those lines around his eyes, the tension in his jaw?

Harley knew. From watching him when he’d thought he’d failed long ago, and from comforting him when one of the kids got hurt more recently.

“He looked like he’d seen a ghost, Harley. I’ve never seen him so shaken.”

Which Harley did have to bite back an entirely inappropriate laugh at. Jason looked preeeeetty happy to be canoodling with an actual ghost in the dining room right now.

She kept it on lock though. Totally professional.

Honestly, she was a little impressed Bruce had noticed. Jason was infamously his blind spot.

Humming softly she nodded slowly, fingers drumming along the shaft of the bat as she regarded him.

“And why do you think he did that, Bruce?” She prodded gently.

She was gonna have a check in with Jason later, not least for all the deets on his adorable new “friend”. Somewhere private, where the others couldn’t see.

But from what she’d seen tonight… Jason looked good. More relaxed, at ease with himself in a way that really tugged at her heart.

She hadn’t seen a lot of Jason since his return; she hadn’t stayed in Gotham long after breaking free of the Joker. But she’d come back when Selina called, and heard Waylon’s stories.

Of course he hadn’t come back as the happy, cheeky kid full of sunshine and magic. Even if he’d survived the warehouse he’d have changed.

The kid who’d cried at the thought of letting Bruce down so hard she’d foiled Joker’s plans herself so it wouldn’t happen… had been let down even more.

Even from a distance she’d read it in every inch of him; festering rage, pain, moving more like the big Bat than ever. Like his body was just a weapon he was barely connected to.

Like nothing else mattered but his mission, and he’d run on broken legs without even noticing. Like he didn’t think there was anything about him worth protecting.

(It may have factored into one of her own visits back to Arkham, even if Mister J had left her alone.)

The poor guy had been so full of anger ever since he came back, and for all that she’d been Joker’s when he died he’d never blamed her.

If anyone else on Earth knew what it was like to have your life torn to the ground by that bastard, to have nothing left even after you crawled away, it was Jason.

Harley wouldn’t have blamed him for hating her just as much as the clown himself, but he hadn’t. Not even full dark side. Not even that first time, Tim’s blood still on his suit.

He’d tensed to fight, admitted he’d heard about the big split, and believed her when she swore it was true. Even accepted her number, though he hadn’t called for almost a year.

They weren’t close, not like she was with the baby bats these days, but Harley worried about him.

There was something broken in Jason that still hadn’t healed, that he kept gashing himself on its sharp edges. Something that might finally be scabbing over.

So yeah, this was 1000% not the fucking time for Bruce to be all up in his bullshit.

At least he seemed to know that too, shaking his head and slumping forward against her foot so he could rest his head in his hands.

“I… I don’t know. I thought I could show him how sincere I was. Have witnesses who’d hold me to it. Not force him to be alone with me when it’s clearly not what he wants,” he admitted bitterly, shoulders slumping.

Harley let out another low hum, tracking every inch of his posture with alert eyes.

Yeah, that was true. Fucking stupid, especially from a guy as sharp as Brucie, but true. And fully consistent with his character.

Then she sighed, pushing him back upright, foot rising up almost to his collar to make him look at her.

“Did ya think about asking Jason what he wanted?” She asked dryly, fully aware of what the answer would be.

Watched Bruce’s face pinch in annoyance. Probably at himself, which would be good. Sometimes the answer literally was that easy.

He still shook his head, even if he didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“I thought…” he sighed again, running a hand through his hair, but didn’t try and hunch. “I didn’t think. I assumed he would see it the way I did.”

Which he’d clearly already noticed Jason hadn’t. Honestly, Harley was almost proud of the man. He wasn’t usually this emotionally aware.

No wonder he was exhausted. Lotta introspection, using all those brain muscles he abjectly refused to hone.

Harley nodded and crossed one leg over the other, switching out which foot kept Bruce pinned to his chair.

“It’s one helluva lot ta throw at someone in front of an audience, Brucie,” she agreed plainly, and watched with interest as that moment if irritation sharpened.

Almost pulled him back to bat face.

“You sound like Danny,” he grumbled, not actually arguing. Might have tried to cross his arms if her foot wasn’t in the way.

Harley wasn’t having any of it. She knew she’d liked the kid.

“Good, he’s got two braincells ta rub together. What’s more important: that people see you say you’re sorry, or how Jason feels?” She asked sharply, her patient tone evaporating.

To his credit, Bruce didn’t hesitate.

“Jason.” This, there was no question of. Good.

“And who knows best how Jason feels?” She pushed on, eyes narrowing when he hesitated.

“Don’t make me use the bat, Brucie,” she warned him, and Bruce sighed again, shaking his head.

“I know what you want me to say, Harley. But Jason… his emotions are unpredictable. Out of control. I doubt even he knows what they are half the time.”

Which, frankly, they weren’t going to get into at the moment, if ever. Jason’s emotional state was Jason’s business.

Harley fixed Bruce with an unimpressed stare, raising an eyebrow.

“Good thing I didn’t ask anyone to control it, huh? But who. Knows. How Jason feels.” It was barely a question anymore, the tapping of her bat against the desk more an empty threat.

She wasn’t against percussive maintenance, especially where Brucie was concerned; he responded better to violence than words half the time.

Kinda like he needed the stubbornness actually knocked out of him before he could listen. It was why she wouldn’t recommend him to any ol’ civilian friends still in the biz.

Not that they’d have appreciated her recommendation.

He stared her down for a moment, defiant even with the bat to hand. Harley let the other brow rise slowly and crossed her arms, leaning forward to lean on her knee.

Bruce could outstare a cat, but he couldn’t impress or intimidate her and he knew it.

He said nothing, still staring her down, and she could see where his brain had turned off and the stubbornness kicked in.

Fine. She’d played this game before, and she knew what he expected to come next.

Sometimes she even let him have it, a little rough and tumble so he could wrestle himself out of his head by wrestling her. But today, there were way more interesting things for her to do with her time.

Nothing short circuited a pattern of habit like the wrong response. Or a response that pulled up an older pattern.

Still staring him dead in the eye, she stuck her finger in her mouth, licked it wet, then leaned forward to shove it in his ear.

Bruce jerked back, hands almost rising defensively even as he made a disgusted face.

“Harley! Stop!” He protested, already losing a little of that stoic wall, and Harley grinned. It’d worked since they were Jason’s age in college and probably always would.

In his bat-suit, Bruce could take any torture, any indignity and never break. Without that cowl though, he was the same dweeb who’d joined the cheerleading squad with her because Harvey pouted.

It was really a very good thing she’d been on her way out of the rogue business before she cracked his identity, but since he’d always known hers he probably had plans against her.

He didn’t use them though, and she appreciated that, even as she licked her other finger fast and stuck it in his other ear.

“Say it, Brucie, or I’ll lick every pen in this office,” she threatened, watched a smile almost crack. And watched him sag, one of her wrists in each hand, his expression sobering.

Not closing off again though. Now his exhaustion was plain to see, along with the lingering sorrow and regret.

Looked like that little tussle would be enough for today. Probably.

“Jason knows what he’s feeling best. I am sorry, Harley. I never meant to hurt him,” he confessed almost in a whisper, and Harley let her own dramatics subside too.

It wasn’t what he needed anymore.

Hooking her foot in under the arm of the chair, she pulled him back in towards her.

“I know, kid. An’ lucky for you, Jason’s got a lotta people in his corner, and he’s a resilient boy. He’s gonna be alright.” His relationship with Bruce could only get so much worse, honestly.

No matter how the two disasters kept rubbing each other wrong, there was still love there. That was what had hurt Jason so much in the first place.

If he hadn’t loved Bruce, he wouldn’t care what the man thought of him. If he hadn’t thought Bruce loved him once, he wouldn’t care that the Joker lived.

Maybe one day she’d knock their heads together and make them talk it out.

Today, Bruce gave her a helpless look.

“I don’t even know how I hurt him, Harley. I should have asked, I know I put him on the spot, but I never thought… how can I stop if I don’t know what I’m doing wrong?”

Harley sighed softly, straightening back up and tugging her hands back easily, propping them on the desk behind her.

It was a tough one, not because the answer was hard, but because it’d be hard for Bruce. But he might finally be ready to hear it, if he’d done this much of the work without her.

“You know what I’m gonna tell you,” she prodded gently and didn’t push back when he pulled the chair in enough to brace his elbows on the desk on either side of her hips and bury his face in his hands.

Muffled the hell outta his voice, but she could still make out the words.

“Talk to him.” Which, yeah, she had a chuckle at the irony, petting mussed black hair.

“Yeah, yeah, the Bat’s one weakness, clear communication. But you don’t know Jason as well as ya think ya do, Brucie. He’s not the kid you brought home.”

He pushed up at that, frown on his face and mouth open to argue, and she placed a finger across it to shush him.

“I know ya think you know that. But he’s really, really not. And thinking ya still know him the same way is how you keep hurting each other.” She gentled her voice, kept it soft, but he still slumped like she’d punched him.

She went back to petting his hair. He preferred punching.

“Stop trying to surprise him. Ask what he wants. And if you can’t tell him how you feel…” she paused for a moment, let Bruce huff out the beginnings of a grumble, and chuckled softly.

No surprise there.

“Then try writing it down. Write him a letter, and keep it to yourself until you know what you want to say. As many as it takes, and toss ‘em right in the fire. And if ya still can’t say it aloud, hide one in yer underwear drawer or somewhere personal.”

That prompted him to look up again and Harley cocked a brow, grinning.

“What better way ta make one of your nosey lot read it?” She asked, grin settling to a smirk when Bruce’s lower lip slid out in a pout.

Not that fake pretty boy play one he did for cameras, the real Bruce Wayne Does Not Like You’re Right.

Catching it between forefinger and thumb she gave it a gentle tug.

“Seriously though. Try it. It’s easier than tryin’ ta improvise. And always, especially double important if yer gonna be in public, talk ta Jason first. No more surprises, or how’s ‘e gonna trust you?”

He knocked her hand away, but his eyes did that far off thing they always did when he was calculating, so she assumed he was taking it on board.

Finally he nodded, glanced at the clock, and frowned. Rigid mask falling back into place, her old classmate disappearing again.

“I’m afraid I have a meeting, Harley. Cape business. Was that all?” He did actually sound kinda sorry, so Harley forgave him for switching himself off before they finished.

“Fine. But I’m stickin’ around fer a bit, so we’ll talk about the apology thing later,” she warned, giving his chest another sharp poke and then trying to neaten the mess she’d made of his hair with her fingers.

Gave it up as a bad job.

“An’ put the cowl on, ya look like a drowned bat.”

He raised a pointed eyebrow at her, the gesture saying more clearly than words whose fault that was, and let her push him back far enough to stand.

“Thanks, Harley. I probably won’t be back tonight,” he told her, voice already lowering into that bat growl Selina went crazy for.

Hopping off the desk, Harley waved him away and bent to scoop her bat off the floor.

“Yeah, yeah. I gotta check on Waylon tomorrow anyway, but I’ll drop by when I have a minute.” She paused at the door and grinned over her shoulder at him. “The little one didn’t even try an’ stab me today.”

Bruce gave her a tight smile back, already at the clock. Ready for his Grand Descent. Dramatic bitch.

“High praise, from Damian,” he acknowledged, and Harley laughed, heading back out into the manor.

Maybe she’d join the kids for dessert.

**

Bruce had to admit he felt lighter as the door closed behind Harley.

She hadn’t told him anything he didn’t know, not really, but just. Knowing she was here. That she knew why Jason was upset, and would help him fix it.

He was always grateful that she’d been one of the rogues who turned… well, not exactly straight, he kept up with her exploits in Coney Island, but good.

She cared about people, and protected what she considered hers fiercely. Luckily for him, that included his brood.

And. Maybe. Just maybe.

Danny might have had a point.

Perhaps Harley could help him work out why it was easier to tell Jason he was sorry to a room full of people than it was at his son’s hospital bed after a bad patrol.

He changed in the elevator on the way to the cave, the spare suit from his office easy and familiar to put on.

A good thing too, since just as he arrived and settled in front of the Batcomputer to pull up anything he thought he might need (and telling himself it definitely wasn’t evidence against a colleague), the zeta tube activated.

::B069 - John Constantine::

Tonight was finally going to be his night.

**

A hundred feet up in the dining room, Danny Fenton stiffened abruptly mid conversation, senses prickling as someone new crossed his aura.

Well. Someone different. There was no mistaking that potent, crackling cloud of mixed wards and magic. It had been a while since they’d been to Amity Park, but it certainly wasn’t someone new.

A slow, thoughtful smile spread across his lips and he settled back in his chair, ignoring the surprised looks from his companions as he considered this development.

It certainly answered his earlier question.

A hand rose slowly to cup his chin, fingers drumming along his jawline as a slow chuckle slipped free.

Tonight might just be more interesting than the gala after all.

“So that’s John Constantine… huh.”

———————

Next:

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[sapp0w0]

Soulmates

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

🎄Wrapped Up In Christmas Memories🎄

a Stephen Strange x Hope Collins fic

Chapter Two

genre: angst, catharsis, healing...and above all, love ❤️

characters: Stephen Strange, Hope Collins (OFC); established relationship

word count: 3.0k

moodboard by @strangelock221b 💙🩵💜

The weeks ticked down towards Christmas, and Stephen remained as occupied with his work as in any other month of the year. And still Hope held steadfast to her promise to ask nothing but his tolerance as she rang the season in. Every few days, when he emerged from attending to his Sanctum duties or his ongoing studies, or returned from a far-flung mission or from Kamar-Taj itself, he would find she had added some new decoration or holiday detail, making not only his quarters, but the main floor as well, ever more festive. Her Artist's eye insured that she kept everything tasteful and in accord with the surroundings. Hope's latest addition had been an evergreen garland for the fireplace on the main floor, lit with colorful fairy lights and frosted candle holders of varying heights bearing ivory or red candles, nested along the greenery.

Whenever he complimented her newest handiwork, Hope would give a modest little shrug as she thanked him, moving onto the next subject of conversation without so much as a pause--though Stephen could absolutely feel how pleased she was. Thus, their equilibrium continued, and despite his ambivalence about the holiday season, he found himself quietly looking forward to each new surprise.

One such surprise was Hope's newfound dedication to attending the weekly vigil service each Saturday evening of Advent at a small Roman Catholic parish in Brooklyn. In their occasional discussions of philosophy and faith, she had given Stephen the impression that although she was lapsed from organized religion, Hope still held a true belief in a higher power. Indeed, he always saw her as a living example of the biblical maxim 'do unto others...'. And of course, she had understood and respected the beliefs he had come to hold about soul & spirit, and good & evil, based on his experiences and encounters with mystic realities.

In response to his curiosity on the first Saturday she shared her plans, Hope fell back on a familiar explanation. "It's a tradition that does my heart good to honor," she told him frankly. "It connects me to my family even when we're apart. With those who've passed on...and with past generations." He didn't miss the flicker of grief in her eyes and in the set of her mouth at her reference to those who had passed on, though soon enough, her honest smile replaced the sorrow. "Besides which, I love the music...the lights on the tree...the aroma of the incense they save for the most sacred moments. That sense of being one with a community of like-minded souls is vital to my experience of the Christmas season." Stephen found none of this surprising, for such was her nature, and part of the reason she had conquered his heart with no effort at all.

With a scant two weeks until Christmas Day, the Sanctum felt ripe with Hope's inimitable brand of holiday cheer. The sights, the scents, the flavors, and the very sounds that filled his rooms, became reminders of his own Christmases past, though Stephen refused to entertain those memories as he knew they'd only leave him morose.

Even the Sanctum kitchens had their own unique decorations, courtesy of some of Hope's grammar school-aged students; a couple dozen had given her handmade, crayon-colored Christmas cards and Tempera-painted winter scenes of snowmen and Santas, Angels and Christmas trees, or sledding and skating children, which found their way onto the walls and the refrigerators. She'd even fashioned a miniature tree as a tabletop centerpiece, festooned with a popcorn & cranberry garland and a tiny paper chain of red & green construction paper loops. In a surprising moment of clarity, Stephen remembered the several years when he still believed in Santa Claus and had helped his mother create the same sort of decorations for their tree, and how excited he'd been counting down the days until Christmas morn. Memories of a simple happiness that he'd quite forgotten had been his. Gazing at Hope's little tree brought a warmth to his chest he would like to share with her - but he stopped himself each time, knowing full well that if he let that recollection bubble forth, it might open the gates to other memories not as pleasant.

Most evenings now found Hope settled on the sofa wrapping presents or penning personal greetings in Christmas cards, while her favorite Christmas movies played on television, setting what she considered the ideal mood. Stephen eventually ended up joining her some evenings, and once he took his place beside her, she very willingly set aside her project in favor of cuddling on the couch with him. He ended up adopting the habit of fixing them hot chocolate, and in Hope's homey company, he discovered that he didn't even mind the movies he'd once found trite and too sentimental since his undergraduate days. Besides, they made Hope happy--and her happiness had become key to his own.

On the 18th, Stephen was called to Kamar-Taj for an emergency meeting of all the Masters of the Sanctums and those in charge of the various disciplines. A rift in Earth's reality had opened inside the Kibo caldera of Mount Kilimanjaro, and whatever entities had worked that magic, it appeared they were trying to wake the dormant volcano into eruption. He only had time enough to fire off a cursory text to Hope, warning her he might be away for several days--and advising her not to worry. Then he was off to Tanzania, along with Wong and a dozen other Masters to beat back the incursion and seal the rift.

'Twas a grim Stephen that returned to the New York Sanctum just after midnight on December 21st. Hope was sound asleep, and he didn't have the heart to awaken her. He was sporting a split lip and multiple abrasions to his face, neck, and hands, and though he had been charm treated in the Kamar-Taj Infirmary, he still had a slight but nagging cough from smoke inhalation.

Yet he had gotten off more lightly than most of those who had to battle the dragonlike creatures that seemed to be ideally suited for a volcanic environment; that breathed fire and fought ferociously to maintain their foothold. Two Masters had fallen to their flames, and three more had suffered severe enough burns to be placed in magic induced comas while Healers worked around the clock to hasten the regeneration of new, healthy skin. Wong, who had suffered a broken wrist, bore the same sort of wounds as Strange and the other Masters did. Stephen was heartsick over the lost lives and the pain of his brothers & sisters, and his body ached all over.

Casting the Mirror Dimension on the master bath, he bundled up his rent robes and buried them deep in the hamper so Hope wouldn't see how badly they were damaged and bloodstained. Stephen had already repaired Cloak, and it had flitted off upon their return to the Sanctum to see to its own ablutions. He soaked in the tub of hot water and Epsom salt for nearly 90 minutes, trying to put the pictures frozen in his mind of the battle and the wounded behind him. Fearing that sleep would still elude him once he finally went to bed.

In the wee hours before sunrise, he slipped carefully and quietly between the sheets, and by some lovely instinct, Hope turned to him. She stirred a bit when he placed her hand above his heart--for he always found that soothing--and after a few moments she whispered, "Missed you, magic man. Is everything alright?"

Stephen sighed in the darkness, unwilling to disturb her peace with the truth, and murmured 'yes', and then, 'I missed you too'. What he wanted most was to forget everthing for a little while, and when she rested her head on his shoulder, he nuzzled the tender haven of her hair, focusing on Hope's softness until he was able to drift off the sleep.

Stephen rarely indulged in the luxury of sleeping in, but this day it had been a necessity. Though he felt physically refreshed when he finally left his bedroom, his spirit was all too weary, and he remained disconsolate in his very bones. No matter the season, he would've felt this way following the outcome on Kilimanjaro--but somehow looking at Hope's cheery holiday trimmings made it even worse. When he found her in the kitchen baking cookies, the sweet sight of her, so incongruous with the miasma he was lost in, prompted him to issue her a fair but regretful warning.

She had just moved a batch of cookies onto a wire rack to cool, then turned to greet him--but her smile faltered the moment she saw the misery on his face. "It went badly, then." Stephen nodded, and then she was sliding her arms beneath his, holding him tight, murmuring against his neck. "I'm so sorry, Stephen. Do you...do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head and simply held her close, grateful that she was his true and loving sanctuary. When they parted just a little, Stephen cleared his throat before speaking. "Hope...honey..." he began, cupping one hand against her cheek, "I really appreciate how patient you've been with me this past month. And I appreciate everything you've done to bring Christmas to our..." He paused when his voice cracked, taking a moment before continuing, "...to our home."

Empathetic as usual, Hope simply reached to cup his cheek in her hand, and he wished he could just let himself melt into the moment. "But I dunno if the miracle you're hoping for is gonna happen this year. The past few days were pretty rough and given that...and the ghosts of my Christmases past...well, I think it's best if you lower your expectations about the holiday. I don't want to disappoint you but...well...I'm not gonna be catching the Christmas spirit this year."

Hope sighed and turned her face enough to place a soft kiss on the base of his thumb. "It's alright, darling. I...I understand." She sighed and stood tall enough to kiss his mouth, then whispered against his lips, "Whatever you need, Stephen. However things go." She embraced him warmly, then moved enough so she could look him in the eyes. "I spent five Christmases wondering how things might have been if you had survived Thanos. I know what's most important to me now--so in the end, all I really want for Christmas is you."

Stephen managed a small but genuine smile. He had expected no less. Undaunted, Hope briskly changed the subject. "How about I fix you some lunch and you go unwind with some mindless television? I'll bring it right to you."

"Actually, there's a little something I want to take a look at in my study...if you don't mind too much..."

"Of course, of course," she answered gamely, then swatted him softly on his way, "Gourmet grilled cheese and tomato soup are the special today, and the only tip I require is a couple dozen kisses."

"You can add those to my tab, honey," Stephen chuckled, then headed down the hall to his study, grateful for the distraction which he knew awaited him on his desk. Getting lost for a little while in a recently discovered manuscript might be exactly what he needed to get through the day.

If you enjoyed this little fic so far, you can read more about how Stephen & Hope met and fell in love in my stories 'Friday in the Park with Stephen' (meet-cute, flirtation & fluff), and 14,000,604 (hurt/comfort, angst, passion/smut, lovers reunited against impossible odds).

In addition, I've written a couple of one-shots/prompt fills as part of their ongoing series, The Wizard and the Artist

tagging: @strangelock221b @mousedetective @icytrickster17 @ironstrange1991 @darsynia @ben-locked @hithertoundreamtof23 @aeterna-auroral-avenger @lorelei-lee @stewardofningishzida @thelostsmiles @mrs-cookie @paperclippedmime @groovyqueer @mckiwi @dragonqueen89 @strangeflashholmes221 @strangesunicornsparkle

[iovesia]

what would constantine do if reader couldn't sleep? like I cannot sleep for the life of me my sleep sched is FUCKED I stay up staring at the ceiling giving me only so much time before the tyler durden effect takes place /jk anyways LOVE your work josie it is BEAUTIFUL

LOVE YA  ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

THANK U NONNIE!! ILYSM ♡ i totally get it, i literally run on like 3 hours of sleep every night i fear..

ok, so, basically, i have the hc that constantine literally never sleeps or he's just an extremely light sleeper. i dunno, i just get the vibes that with all the supernatural demons out to get his ass— that man does not sleep. so when he notices that you're lying there, intently staring at the ceiling, he just watches you for a moment (just staring at you like.. 🤨 what do you have to be awake for? why are you awake?).

after a few minutes of just staring at you (it's a little unsettling icl..), you feel his hand around your upper arm and he pulls you closer to him. wordlessly, you rest your head against his chest and he keeps his arm wrapped around you, just basking in each other's company. granted, neither of you probably get a lot of sleep that night, but it's his subtle way of showing you that he gets it </3

[speckle-meow-meow]

hey, here's an idea. since it's my birthday today-though it'll probably be long past when you answer this lol-could i have headcanons for the welcome home doing something for it? i figure that headcanons would be easier for everyone. if you only want to do some of them, any three of wally, frank, sally, julie, or howdy is fine. thank you and have a good day!

Dude I am so sorry happy late birfday...

Warning: wee bit of angst

It was your birthday

And everyone knew

So they decided to throw a surprise party!

It was 7 am when you woke up, you felt happier than usual because it was a very special day for you. It was your birthday!!!

Which ment....

BIRTHDAY PANCAKES (or whatever preferred breaky)

After you finished your breakfast you got dressed, you decided to doll up a little and add a little spice to your clothing.

And a little bit of makeup (ik not everyone wears makeup but like... Please let me have this 🥺👉👈)

You looked fantastic!

After you sorted yourself out you left home and made your way to Howdys bug- I mean Bodega.

Everyone saw that you looked slightly different

More pep in your step and more dressy than usual

And they knew why

You stepped inside the Bodega sort of expecting a "HELLO Y/N happy birthday" but it never came.

In all honesty in made you a bit sad but, not everyone has to remember your birthday, especially when you don't remember most people's birthdays. (Not me calling myself out..)

"Hello howdy! How are you today?" You grinned towards your fuzzy tall four armed friend

"Oh hello y/n! I'm doing great! What about you?" He turned to face you

"I'm doing great! After all it is a very special day for me! Which means I'm going to buy a (dessert of choice)!" You giggled hoping that he would know what day it was

But he didn't

"Of course!" He grabbed some metal tongs and grabbed your dessert, putting it into a small box then putting it in your hands "alright there ya go! Enjoy!"

You smiled but it was a meek smile

It pained howdy when you didn't show your usual bright smile

He had to resist telling you happy birthday

After all he couldn't ruin the surprise right?

But oh boy was he wrong...

You passed everyone each hoping you'd have a great day and nothing else, not even Frank who seemed to remember everything said happy birthday

You suppressed the urge to cry until you reached your home. When you got there you threw the dessert you got from the Bodega into the trash. To you it would taste to bitter.

We're you being a bit petty? Or over reacting? Maybe.. But it was your birthday...

Once they saw you go into your house they all prepared poppy barn for your party

Poppy made the sweets

Julie and Sally were discussing activities

Wally was keeping watch just incase you were gonna show up

Frank was putting your presents on a table

Howdy was helping Eddie make decorations while handing/putting them around

Later Julie put a note in an envelope running to your house and putting it on your porch then running after knocking on your door.

You heard the knocks and checked seeing the envelope on the ground.

You picked it up and closed your door, then reading the contents

It was an invite

Deciding not to let your sadness get in the way you got dresses again making yourself presentable, and left.

You arrived at Poppy's and opened the doors

It was quiet, until you heard a loud

"SURPRISE!!!"

Everyone was there!

They did remember!

The night was fully of fun and laughter

You even forgot what your were sad about because you realized that they did remember.

{God's you don't know how much I had to restrain myself to not make it to angsty, anyways I hope you liked this anon and happy late birthday! As always hearts and reblogs are always welcomed along with questions, comments, and requests}

[oifaaa]

ngl I feel like the fandom gets rid of Tim’s ego to make him more palatable. In comparison to the other robins he had a much easier life and for him to have an ego on top of it? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ not as easy to woobify

But isn't that like half the reason why Tim has the ego he does, at least thats how I always read it that he's the kind of kid where everything came super easy for him so he developed an ego thinking that he was special - also I'm definitely in the minority opinion here but I just find that type of character way more interesting and fun I like my characters to have flaws it means they have room to grow

[honestlyobsessed]

Zoom into the message in the box.

It's just the right height and faded enough to be made by a young Marceline.

[twoshotsoffandom]

About two weeks ago I got INTENSE ccrt brain rot and, as I always do, went a little over the top.

I am still not done. But I figured I would split it between the two bigger comics and the bunch of little(ish) comics

Copper Cogs Rusted Through belongs to @paper-lilypie

[icantwonderhoythepainaway]

General Ideas around ☆Daycare Sekai AU☆

It takes place after 3rd anniversary.

The 2nd years (All of L/n, MinoHaru, all of VBS, EmuNene, Mizuki) are all deaged to 6 year old children and lost their memories.

While the 3rd years (ShizuAiri, RuiKasa, KanaMafuEna) are aged up to 27 year old adults yet retained their memories.

They all stay together inside Kanade's house and the Sekais out of fear of getting recognized in public then proceed to get into trouble.

When they do go outside, they create fake names (Rui helped make fake ID cards) and disguise themselves, except Mafuyu.

Mafuyu is Transmasc and he transed so hard nobody recognized him. (Fun fact : I showed his design to a few mutuals and nobody recognized that hes Mafuyu)

Unfortunately Mizuki, Kohane and Shiho (AMAB) will be referred as He/Him and Akito (AFAB) will be reffered as She/Her. However that is only used around the children or directly to them. The adults refer to them as normally as they would once in private.

Kohane, Shiho and Akito are given nicknames since the adults can't bring themselves to call them by their deadnames but also feels weird to call them by their current name.

The Sekais are revealed to eachother. Stage Sekai, Wonderland Sekai and Empty Sekai are revealed by their respective holders while Tsukasa figured out School Sekai and Street Sekai due to his suspicion of L/n and VBS having one too.

Some npcs eventually learns their current state like Ken, the Otori Siblings, Yuuki,.... (Old Hag™, Shinei and Harumichi not included)

The adults soon form somewhat a paternal/maternal bond towards the kids

This also carried on after all of them reverted back to their original bodies

"I once piggyback-rode both of you and broke my back." - Tsukasa "Old Man" Tenma to Saki Tenma and Toya Aoyagi-Tenma.

They usually have the kids play in Stage Sekai, Street Sekai and Wonderland Sekai.

As it tires the kids, they are put to naptime in School Sekai while the adults move to Empty Sekai and pass out.

13 fucking children are a pain, Kanade passed out once because she can't keep up with the energetic kids.

One time they got Ken babysit and all of the 3rd years passed out for one day.

Shizuku, Airi, Tsukasa and Rui still practices. Sometimes they decided to make it fun by performing a show for the kids to watch. Either on the stage in Stage Sekai or Wonderland Sekai.

The Kaitos, Meikos and Lukas are very off put with being younger than the 3rd years.

Meanwhile the Lens and Rins are very intrigued in finally being big siblings to the deaged 2nd years (Except for the Nightcord variant).

[coffeedrawingandwriting]

Air Bubbles

Crash landing on a foreign planet filled with dangerous creatures could bring anyone to their knees.

Thankfully you have a large friend to keep you company, even if your first meeting was rather… unconventional.

Part 2 to Shallow Breathes

———

The sea was calm today, the soft creaking and groaning of metal resisting water pressure familiar noise as you awoke, stretching from the comfort of your bed.

In the dimness of the corridors, lit only by soft sub lighting and the ocean filtered sunlight through the windows, it was a bit difficult to completely awake, stumbling to the main common area to drink a glass of water and drink a protein pill. The air was slightly too warm for your taste, even if you were only clad in shorts and a T-shirt.

Within moments, wonderful energy broke through the fog, and your eyes focused on the water lock separating your “garage” dock from your living quarters.

You keyed it open, making a quick cup of hot sea tea, gazing grimly at the few remaining packets.

With a heavy sigh, you sat at the edge of the circle cut in the middle of your living room floor. Legs dipped down to enjoy the cool temperature.

For a few moments, you could enjoy relative piece and quiet, sipping your tea.

Your eyes closed, as you lay back against the metal floor.

Something brushed your leg-

And before you could react, something wet and rough wrapped your leg and pulled you out of your home with a smack into the water of the deep, a shriek escaping you as cold water hit you like a punch to your gut.

Your eyes briefly closed, opened in dismay and frustration as you quickly kicked back to the surface, sputtering and coughing, snorting water out of your nose.

“What the HELL Sans!”

You yelled out into the water, then felt the water vibrate with the sound of a deep chuckle.

A shadow came over the windows above your head, as you looked up to see the leviathan curve around your base, tentacles dragging with a screeching noise as his eye lights appeared below your feet as you treaded water.

You took a deep breath and dove back under, swimming down to fully take in the leviathan.

Sans was at least 20 feet long, his thick torso twice your size, as was about everything else. His bones were an oldish white, brown and black shadows highlighting scarred bone. He had a black streak over his eyes like a mask with soft blue speckles echoing those piercing eyes.

Beside his skull and ribs, his body went into a gradient of browns and blacks the further down your eyes traveled. Shoulder plates added armor along with back plating, a crest of blue membrane stretched along his forearms.

Long sweeping tentacles, a soft grey black with darker splotches, and an hypnotizing blend of blues, greens and purples under every single one.

His skull brushed along your back as he delicately nuzzled his way to press his chin into your neck, a soft purr coming from the giant creature.

You kicked back to the surface for air, Sans following as you climbed out to sit down, sopping wet. He lifted himself to rest his skull on your lap, arms circling your hips as he crooned an unknown melody.

“I missed you too,” you said softly, caressing the giant skull. You could never stay too upset with the surprisingly cuddly leviathan.

A pleased hum came from him, as he shifted to press you down upon the metal floor, head resting on your chest, his arms circling you in a protective shell of rough warmth.

“Sans, you can’t breathe up here,” you reminded him softly. It had been an odd thing to learn his name.

It was not long after your first true encounter with the leviathan, when an image, blurry and faint, yet an unmistakable face with two dark sockets, burning eye lights.

Among chirps and keens, and the sudden ringing in your ears, you heard distinct human words:

Want… keep…. safe…

The image blurred slightly. Chirps and clicks, a distorted word that ended in only a monosyllabic phrase.

Sans..

The vision has faded, but that was far from his first attempt to communicate. His vocabulary hadn’t much improved, besides a soft rumble of some sort of impression of your name.

He did so now, grumpily retreating to the water as his eyes regarding you with something you feared to call affection.

His claws reached forward, but you darted out of the way.

“No, you don’t get anymore cuddles. I’m all wet thanks to you.”

His answer caused the floor to vibrate, a displeased hum as he began to rise from the water again.

You gave him a fierce look, standing your ground.

The leviathan blinked, then huffed, retreating back to the water to wait.

A soft smile came over your lips as you hurried back to your room, the swoosh of water telling you the leviathan was following your progress. He hated he didn’t have a way to see into your quarters, but you really didn’t want to wake up in the middle of the night to see him staring as you slept.

You changed into a wetsuit, pulling on the taut material as you grabbed your flippers and mask.

An excited chirrup greeted you as you hurried back to the living room, putting on your flippers as a pleased melody echoed from below.

You had barely dipped a toe in before he was upon you, twisting and nuzzling around you, whistling and chirruping.

Y/N… pretty… keep… safe..

A soft laugh curled from your throat as you strike out, swimming wit slow kicks further out from your base, not using your portable engine yet.

Sans easily kept pace, humming as he moved beneath you, his claws tracing the curves of your body outlined by the wetsuit.

He whistled, astonishingly similar to a wolf whistle as he admired you.

You pushed his hands away with mock anger, treading water as you scanned a list for the materials you needed.

Once you had determined your needs, your hands easily found Sans’ as you swam along. Air bubbles left a trail behind as he helped tug you along, assisting you in your quest to find materials.

Even if he didn’t know what those were for.

You’d tell him one day…

…

You now enjoyed your watery trips rather than fearing them.

Time and opportunity was given to admire the twisting spirals of kelp and rock structure, nearby leviathans darting away the moment they saw Sans.

Your hand tightened on Sans’ claw as he pulled you down, showing the beauty of his homeworld.

A shame you wouldn’t be here for much longer.

———

Why couldn’t the sea emperor leviathan live!?!

Have some fluff for Mermay, and have a wonderful day!