#Posted to show my friendos--

[caketopics]

🫶🏽My 5sos roman empires🫶🏽

5sos roman empire challenge !! this was quite literally impossible to narrow down. if you want, share your own 5sos moments you think about constantly and tag some friends !!

@crossedwiress @caramelcalum @chamaleonsoul @clumsyclifford @ghost-of-you @igarbagecannoteven @halfyourheart @ijustdontlikepeople @sunfleursky @lifewasradical <3

#this was impossible #I HAVE SO MUCH MORE #i tried to do my favorites #im an old fan so the gotta get out performance is🥹🥹 #should i do a cake roman empire? #friendos #my post #5sos #luke hemmings #calum hood #5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin #michael clifford #5sos5 #tmh #5sos show #5sos photoset

[saints-who-never-existed]

Least favorite change from book to show?

A few things spring to mind for this one!

Full answer under the cut as I suspect it's going to get spoiler-y.

So, I understand completely why, with budget and time constraints, changes had to be made, and I think the show is visually stunning just the way it is.

But with that said, there are several scenes from the book that would have been absolutely fucking spectacular to have seen realised on screen and it does make me a little sad that they were omitted or changed.

-

There's the scene where Irving follows Silna down to the hold where she's created a living space for herself, only for him to find that someone or something has torn clean through the ship's hull - nearly a dozen layers of the hardest woods on the planet - to create a private tunnel out into the ice and up to the surface. Seeing that amount of physical power before we really see the thing that has exerted it is properly spine-tingling.

And speaking of tingling spines, I would love to have witnessed the scene where Tuunbaq makes it onto the ship and down into the hold and lower decks where it wreaks bloody havoc. It's a scene of utter chaos that plays out in almost complete darkness - the men have so little idea of what's even going on or what might be lurking in the darkness beyond the light of their own woefully inadequate lanterns. Chilling stuff! There's also fire, unspeakably gruesome physical injuries, and some lovely, lovely character beats between Fitzjames and Goodsir.

And perhaps the pièce de résistance, the crown jewel of absolutely wild scenes I'd love to have seen brought to the screen, is the grisly death-by-Tuunbaq of several major characters including Little and Peglar. They are tricked into following a lead in the ice and ambushed, and when the rest of the men follow after them, they find that the lead opens out into a huge lake that has been turned entirely red by the sheer amount of blood in it. Just imagine that! Imagine the shot panning up and over, the men and their boats tiny specks in an expanse of white and made even more insignificant by the staggering scale of the massacre before them!

-

I have some more in-depth thoughts about Crozier and Hickey's relationship and the way the book in many ways treats morality and cannibalism differently than the show does. But this post is already long enough! :)

#Behold yet again my inability to give a succinct answer to any given question! #I regret nothing! #For real though I find the book to treat the morality of cannibalism in a much more ambiguous way than the show does #Crozier is thinking about eating the dead long before we ever really see the idea raised or discussed on Hickey's part #It's an ever-present thing for both the quote-unquote 'good' and 'bad' sides #Anyway that's a post for another time methinks #The Terror #Asks #Ask Game #Friendos

[beefrobeefcal]

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Joel Miller One Shot

Please welcome Joel Miller to Beefro's Bistro!

a Joel Miller & his Darlin' One Shot: The Way into a Man's Heart

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You've been traveling companions and now that you're in Jackson, Joel's getting comfortable. (Post Outbreak)

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 3,650

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), p in the v - unwrapped (don't be silly, cover you willy, kids!), talk of eating, belly praise, self esteem, weight gain, flannel shirt button popping

Author's Notes: FINALLY! The long awaited addition to the Menu is here! I wrote the majority of this listening to Hozier's new album so please forgive my non-fluffy heart if there are traces of fluff. Thank you to the Nonnie who submitted the illuminating THOT!

Major thanks to @harryleatherfit for their support, and to all those on the TAGLIST - this one's for you, babes 💜 The THOT TANK is always open, Friendos

--------<3----------

They found you in an abandoned apartment building somewhere in the Midwest, and after being cooped up together – surviving – for few days, it was settled that the duo had become a trio. Joel came across as a gruff and emotionless man and while he made you feel supremely unwelcome at first, he grew to at least give you the impression that he tolerated you for Ellie. For the next several months, it was just the three of you, trekking through the ruins of America.

The three of you finally found Joel’s brother and were tentatively welcomed into Jackson. It had taken some time for you, Joel, and Ellie to find your bearings after you’d arrived being that, for the first time in a while, you were expected to act in a civil manner towards others in proximity instead of defending yourselves and fighting for resources.

You and Joel were not a couple. He had never shown any interest towards you beyond your uncanny fishing ability, while you tried to not think of him as anything more than muscle and reinforcement in your travelling party. You were attracted to him, and you did your damnedest to squash any and all thoughts of him being more than a survival companion. This was made worse for you as Ellie would not even discuss the idea of you not being under the same roof in Jackson as she and Joel. Maria and Tommy had set the three of you up in a 3-bedroom home across from them, and you did your best to find a homey-rhythm as a trio.

While you and Ellie had taken to this new life with a relative ease, Joel was almost fighting it. Ellie let her curiosity run wild and you tried to find a social group, but Joel fought back. He didn’t engage with anyone that weren’t a select few outside of sideways glares and grunts in responses to hellos. He declined to get new clothing and outright refused to sleep in a bed until Ellie threatened to spill his deep, dark secrets to you that she had learned through his sleep talking. Even with food, now that there wasn’t a food scarcity or a worry about the next meal, he still refused to stray from his food rationing way of eating. He didn’t go to the mess hall to eat, opting instead for keeping to himself in the house, picking away at whatever was on hand in the pantry.

That was, until you had been assigned kitchen duty due to your skills from working as a teenage line cook in a diner, pre-apocalypse. You’d brought some food home from the mess hall one evening, and Joel picked at it, grumbling that it was decent and wouldn’t be opposed to you bringing home more.

So, you did. And he began to actually sit at the table and eat, but he didn’t come to the mess hall until the following week when you’d told him you were making a beef brisket buffet on the Friday night. While he’d shown more enthusiasm than you had ever seen before (he raised his eyebrows), you were very surprised that night when the hall went quiet as he entered with Ellie at his side.

Your supervisor was so shocked that he showed up, he suggested you sit with him since more than likely no one else would. Ellie took off immediately to sit with kids her own age from school, and that had led you to sitting at a small table in the corner with Joel, watching him eat. And good god, did he eat.

His first serving disappeared before you could even begin yours, and he was back with his second helping with an actual – albeit small – grin on his face.

“I have never seen you look so… happy…”, you mused with a smile at him.

“Never had reason to be… but this is good… haven’t had food like this in… fuck… years.”, he grunted while shovelling food in his mouth.

He looked up at you and gave you a brief smile as he chewed before going back to eating and your heart skipped a beat. That was the kindest he had ever been to you, and you felt those walls you’d built up around those thoughts and feelings you had for him shake.

You’d finished your food and stood up to return your dirty dishes, but as you went to walk away, he called your name.

“Hey Darlin’… uh, mind getting me another helping?”, he asked with a full mouth.

You nodded with a dumb grin at the new nickname, dumped off your dishes, and returned with another plate for Joel.

****

Three months later, the food he was allowing himself was starting to make an impact on his waistline. Never shying from second or third helpings, whether in the mess hall or at home, his tummy was more pronounced whether it was full or not.

You did your best to keep yourself in check, to not let yourself daydream about how that belly might feel under your fingers, or let your mind get carried away listening to the noises he made as he soothed his bloated middle. He would occasionally offer you little grins or a head nod, something he only recently began since being in Jackson, and you assumed he was being polite now that death wasn’t around every corner; this was just his true nature coming out. You figured your time living under one roof was coming to an end, given that you, he and Ellie were safe, and you didn’t need to keep such close quarters while you built your lives back up.

Ellie was spending more time with other kids and less at the house, while Joel continued to patrol and work in the carpentry shop, and you worked away in the community kitchen. When you and Joel were home alone, he kept a respectful distance from you. If there were moments your bodies could touch, like when you did dishes after dinner or he needed help carrying firewood in the house, he generally made a point of not getting too close and stepping back from you and looking away. You took the hint and figured the conversation of your moving into a place of your own was on its way.

*****

One Saturday evening, Joel had really outdone himself on the pork carnitas in the mess hall. You noticed he shifted in discomfort and discreetly had his hand on his lap. It took you a moment, but you finally realized he was unbuckling his belt and opened his pants. You averted your eyes to not embarrass him, but not before you saw that his belly was pushing out on to his lap. Joel Miller was having his fill, damned be his pants.

After he announced he was done, his green flannel shirt was pulled so tight across his middle that you swore you could hear the seams creaking and there were spaces between each of his buttons, exposing his undershirt.

The walk back to your house was relatively quiet, save for Joel’s grunting and huffing every other step from the strain of his full belly.

“Fuck me… I made a real hog outta m’self tonight…”, he groaned as you walked next to him. “Sorry you gotta see me like this, Darlin’.”

You could hear the embarrassment in his voice, and you felt bad for him. His belly, while full and bloated and bigger than you’d ever seen on him, was still smaller compared to some of the other Jackson men’s stomachs, but you knew if he kept this up, he’d be matching them in no time.

“Oh Joel… knock it off… I take it as a compliment. You actually smiled tonight… nothing to be sorry for.”, you responded in a matter-of-fact voice. “You enjoyed yourself.”

He scoffed, as you reached your porch, and opened the door. You helped him into the house, then closed the front door, both of you kicking off your boots.

“Good god… when the hell d’we get all these damn stairs?”, he groaned as he got to the bottom of the stairwell leading to the bedrooms on the second floor.

“Come sit on the couch… you’re not making it up the stairs anytime soon, Joel.”

You patted the back of the couch, then headed to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. “You want anything else?”, you called to him.

You heard him bark a laugh. “D’you see me right now? You think I could get anymore in’ere?”

You heard him sit heavily on the couch followed by him grunting “Dammit!”.

Walking in, you saw Joel sitting back, knees apart, and his favourite shirt unbuttoned to his chest, his undershirt riding up and exposing a strip of his belly and showed his pants were pushed open by his stuffed middle.

“What happened?”, you asked, walking back in with a glass of water for you both.

“Damn fuckin’… Jesus…”, he muttered, his cheeks blushing in deep scarlet. He noted you were still looking at him for answer. “My fuckin’ buttons popped. Wrecked my favourite shirt.”

You couldn’t help but smile. Joel, the hardened, battle-scarred killer who shot first and asked questions later, was blushing.

“It’s a good look on you.”, you teased as you sat in the chair next to the couch, leaning back and feeling emboldened by his vulnerability.

“What is?”, he sheepishly looked up at you.

“A big dinner.”, you smirked as you took a drink of you water, eyes on his.

He stared at you a moment then down to his round stomach, and he huffed a laugh and smiled to himself. You sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before he spoke.

“Didn’t know you could cook like that, Darlin’. Probably a good thing I didn’t know till we got here, too… couldn’t outrun shit with this full gut…”, he said, eyes still cast down and hand on his belly.

“Thank you.” It was your turn to blush, and before you could stop yourself, you said quietly, “Didn’t know you’d look so good like that.”

Realization hit both you and Joel about what you’d said, and you wanted to crawl in a hole as you saw his eyes go wide.

“Joel… oh my god… I am so…”, you started, covering your face and you didn’t see the grin that grew across Joel’s face and the look in his eyes as he watched you.

“I’m just findin’ all sorts’a things ‘bout you lately, darlin’...”, he teased in a low voice. “And here I thought you weren’t interested… and leavin’ me hanging.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you swallowed hard before you had the nerve to look up at him. His brown eyes were dark and looked hungry? He trailed his stare up and down your body as you sat and subtly licked his lips.

“Joel… I…”, you stuttered, paused, then finally asked, “Wait… what did you say?”

He gave you a lopsided grin and sat back with a smug face and stated, “I swear, darlin’, I thought you weren’t interested.”

You just looked back at him with wide eyes while his smug demeanor shifted into a gentler and warmer gaze. He smiled and patted the seat next to him.

“Come over here, baby.”, he spoke softly.

You stood slowly and his eyes never left yours and he raised his hand to take yours as you sat next to him sideways to face him fully. His hand went to your waist, his thumb stroking you.

“You drunk or something?”, you questioned teasingly with a smile.

He sighed a small laugh, his eyes again trailing up and down your body. “Nope, darlin’. Just felt like it was ‘bout time I was honest since I’m learnin’ so much ‘bout you lately.” He sucked in a breath and licked his lips again when his eyes watched your chest move with your breathing. “You look good, darlin’. Real fuckin’ good.”

His eyes moved up to yours and you could see the want, the need you held back for so long, burning in his eyes. You moved forward, your hand cupping his face.

“So do you, Joel.”, you breathed as you kissed him.

You heard him sigh into the kiss and push into it, his grip on your waist tightened, fisting your shirt and pulling you closer. You instinctively ran your hand over his taught, full belly and he shivered as you did, his grip trying to pull you onto his lap now.

“Get up, baby… can’t bend that way right now… get on me…”, he instructed you in a breathy tone as you moved to staddle his lap. 

Your smaller frame was now right up against his swollen belly as you frantically made out on the couch.

“God damn… fuckin’ hell, darlin’… if weren’t so damned full, I’d do this properly in bed upstairs…”, he panted as you moved your kisses to his jaw and neck and began to rock your hips. His hands grabbed your hips and pulled them down to put more friction on his denim-clad cock. “Make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

He roughly jammed his hand between the two of you, cupping your heat as he began to make lude promises in whispers as you whimpered kisses along his neck.

“That’s right, darlin’… makin’ those pretty sounds… bet your pussy tastes better than your cookin’… how many nights I fucked my fist wishin’ it were your mouth…. Never thought you’d want an old fat fucker like me….”

You finally worked up the ability to push yourself back from him, and you looked down at his dark, blown-out pupils and his parted, panting lips, knowing you looked the same, while his hand stilled on your jeaned heat.

“You gonna let me fuck you, Darlin’?”, he breathed out, eyes pinned to yours.

You nodded as your hands moved to his shoulders and you pressed your mouth to his. He deepened the kiss for a moment, the pushed you up gently.

“Darlin’…”, his voice needy and almost desperate. “Baby, take your pants off…”

You stood up and removed your shirt and jeans, leaving you in your bra and panties. Joel huffed as he moved himself up off the couch, dropping his already open jeans, the grabbed your arm pulling you towards him.

“So fuckin’ pretty…”, he smiled before kissing you.

His arms wrapped around you and your hands went to his hair and around his shoulder. Unlike the previous kisses that were hasty and desperate, this one was slow, methodical, and carried over a year’s worth of unspoken emotions that neither of you were brave enough to put words to.

Joel pulled back first and softly smiled at you before he said is voice far too soft for the words he spoke.

“I’m gonna fuck you into this couch, Darlin’.”

His mouth is back on yours, hungry. Teeth and fervor, clashing between you. All that soft, gentle kissing was gone, Joel had given into what ever primal urges you had unearthed in him. You moan into his mouth as his hand grips your hair, pulling your head back.

“Joel… please…”, you begged breathlessly. “Take it... take me…”

He smiled darkly at you and pushed you face down over the arm of the couch, his hands going to the waist of your panties. He paused as if waiting for confirmation that you wanted this. You nodded and gave a strangled “uh-huh” and he pulled them down.

Joel let out a noise that you can only think was one from a starving man looking at a banquet feast. He dragged his thick finger through your slick folds, making you squirm and whimper.

“Oh, baby, you’re so fuckin’ pretty… bet your tight little cunt’s just waitin’… your pussy’s droolin’ for me, Darlin’... I’m gonna wreck you for any other man… wanna bury myself in your tight little cunt… so fucking pretty, baby.”

“Joel, please… fuck me… please… don’t tease!”, you cried out, unable to get any further friction from his fingers given the way you were splayed out on the couch arm.

“That’s right, baby… gonna take care of you, Darlin’… gonna make you feel good… patience, baby…gotta work you open for me.”

He removed his fingers and spit on them before he pumped one into your cunt, his thumb gently rubbing your neglected and throbbing clit. His finger was thick, and you could only imagine how big his cock was; you’d once got a quick glance at the outline before Jackson and if that was any indication, he was doing you a favour getting you primed and ready for him. He pulled back and added another finger after a moment, picking up his pace and you cried out and called his name as you gripped the couch cushion.

“So tight, Darlin’… tell me how bad you needed this, baby… tell me… tell me you need me.”

“I-I need this… Joel… need you, Joel… so bad… wanted this for so long… oh god… yes… there… right there, Joel… please, oh fuck!... Joel... Joel… keep going!”, you panted with a whine.

He pushed a third finger in, and you cried out and clawed at the couch cushion.

“Shhh, baby… come on, Darlin’… need to fuck you after this and I gotta get you open for me… need it to feel good for you… doing so good… I can feel it…. you’re close, Darlin’… let go for me, baby… come on.”

You could feel your orgasm building up, and when he curled his fingers and hit that sweet spot buried deep in your cunt, you came, crying out like a beaten dog.

“There you go… that’s it, Darlin’… sing for me, baby.”

He worked you through your orgasm, and when you felt like you could breathe normally, you tried to push yourself up. Joel’s hand rubbed in between your shoulder, and he gently pushed you back down.

“Darlin’, I’m too full to fuck you the way I outta… but you look to fucking good to pass up… you gonna let me have you here, baby?”. His tone was pleading and needy, but gruff, while his harsh, calloused hands gently rubbed you on you back where he pushed you down.

His words and the way he said them had your insides turn to mush and you could feel another gush of arousal slip from your puffy cunt.

“Please…”, was all your fuck-drunk brain could muster in a pathetic, breathy whine.

“Too good to me, Darlin’… too fuckin’ good to this fat old man.”, he groaned as he pushed his aching, hard cock into your tight, slippery cunt.

The feeling was too much. For a moment, you thought it wasn’t going to work, but he soothed you. He kept pushing himself in slowly, offering words of praise while his fingers dug into your hips.

“Takin’ me so good, Darlin’… that’s it, honey… so good… feel so fuckin’ good…”

He pushed in as far as his length could go and his tip kissed your cervix. Your lungs felt like they couldn’t fill with air you were so full, and you needed him to do something.

“You gotta relax, baby… I can’t move shit unless you relax…”

“Joel… please move… need you to move… so full… move, please…”, you whined, trying to catch your feet on the floor so you could push back into him.

He panted a chuckle and began to move, slowly at first, then increased his hip’s speed and intensity until he was ramming into you. The couch was squeaking on the wood floors from Joel’s weight repeatedly being forced against it. The couch’s rough material was rubbing harshly against your hip bones, but it was worth it for the sweet sting of Joel splitting you open as his heavy, full belly hitting your ass cheeks.

“Oh god… Joel… yes… yes… k-keep going… yes… fuck…”, you panted, tears in your eyes.

“So good… baby… you gotta come… come on, baby… you’re close, Darlin’… come on…”

The white-hot burn of your second climax crept down your spine and built up as his finger went to your clit, rubbing circles, pushing you over the edge. Your vision went blurry for a moment your body went rigid, your mouth open and high-pitched pants and moans escaped from it.

Joel’s hips sputtered as your climax pushed him to his own release. He let out a few deep, guttural grunts as he thrusted a few more times, spilling his hot seed into you.

He tried to not collapse onto you as he pulled out. He stumbled back into the armchair as you pushed yourself up off the couch’s arm.

“Fuck, Darlin’… wish you could stay bent over like that… sucha pretty sight…”, he huffed in a laugh as you got up. He patted his leg. “Come’ere, baby…”

You clumsily moved over to him and held your hands out. “No… up, Joel… Ellie could walk in the door at any moment and the last thing she needs to see is you stuffed to the gills with your dick out in the living room.”

“Sucha fuckin’ mouth on you!”, Joel grinned, and moved his hands to yours. “Better get a move on… let’s go to bed.”

You collected your abandoned clothing that was strewn throughout the living room and got Joel upstairs into his bedroom. You went to your room to clean yourself up and change, and there was a knock at the door. Upon opening it, Joel saw you and pushed his way in, closing it behind him.

He pulled you close to him, his belly pressed against your middle. You touched his face softly, gently running your fingers through his scruffy facial hair.

He smiled and kissed you tenderly and said softly against your mouth, “I got you, Darlin’… tell me you’ve got me… please…”

“I got you, Joel.” --------<3----------

Leave your comments after the beep!

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TAGLIST:

@harryleatherfit @harriedandharassed @theywhowriteandknowthings @toxicanonymity @neverwheremoonchild @beee-haw @rebel-held @deathsholywaterr @xdaddysprincessxx

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #chubby!joel miller #chubby!joel #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #chubby joe #chubby pedro rights !!! #chubby pedro pascal #fat belly #pedro pascal tummy nation #beefro's bistro #beefro is sweating #you asked beefro answered #🥩

[pianostarinwonderland]

TWST Valentines Cards 2023

Hell yeah, it's that time of the year again.

Going to make another post keeping record of this year's set of letters. Some cards haven't been found yet, so this post will be updated as I find more cards. If there is an asterisk beside a character's name, that means I only got the text itself but there may be errors and needs to be verified with the picture of the card itself. If any of you have pictures of letters that are either not there or need verification and don't mind showing to anyone, please send to me through DMs!

Since the cards freshly came out and some are still waiting for their own letters, all letters will be posted under the cut!

Riddle Rosehearts

My dear friend— Thank you for the lovely sweets. I'll have them on my study breaks. If they're good, perhaps I'll set them out at a tea party. You'll certainly be invited if I do. After all, there's no rule that states you can't join.

Trey Clover

Hello, friend— Thanks so much for the gift. It was exactly my taste, with just the right amount of sweetness. I can tell you thought a lot about what to get. I'll come up with a recipe based on these sweets sometime. I hope you'll taste test it for me.

Cater Diamond

Eyyy, friendo! Sweets aren't normally my jam, but the ones you picked out were PERF—and they looked great too! You must've put in some WORK picking them out. So, thanks! I'll make sure to do the same for you!

Ace Trappola

Heya, pal— I kinda freaked when I saw you left a present at my door—in a good way! You actually sent me sweets! You could've just given them to me in person, you know. I haven't had any yet, but I'm sure they'll be great! We should share them at lunch tomorrow.

Deuce Spade

My good friend— Thanks for the amazing gift! You got me those mega-popular sweets we just talked about, right? They were so good! It's kind of a shame I ate them all. Have you had any? I guess it'd be weird if I gifted you the same thing, but come shopping with me sometime and we can pick out some sweets for you.

Leona Kingscholar

Hey— You give me SWEETS? I swear, sometimes I don't know what goes through that noggin of yours. I'll be nice and say I appreciate the sentiment...this time. But don't expect any glowing food reviews.

Ruggie Bucchi

Hey, 'sup. I got the sweets you sent! It's always a good day when someone gifts me food. These are supposed to be real popular right now, yeah? They must've been hard to snag. Shyeheehee, that makes them doubly good! Thanks a ton!

Jack Howl

Hi, I was surprised when I smelled something sweet at my door. Consider your present received. I still can't believe you gave me such cutesy-looking sweets. Not that I'm unhappy about it, of course. I actually like candy and stuff. Thanks.

Azul Ashengrotto

My boon companion— Thank you for the heartfelt gift. I suppose I owe it to you to partake of these sweets. Don't worry. Once I've analyzed the flavor, I'll gift you something equally delicious. After all, fair's fair.

Jade Leech

My good friend— You've outdone yourself. Sweets that pair well with black tea? My deepest thanks. I'm flattered that you thought of me so when selecting them. You've inspired me. I'm going to spend my mountain hikes pondering just the right tea blend to suit your palate. I do hope you'll enjoy it.

Floyd Leech

Dear little shrimpy— I saw your present. You got me candy? That rules! I was JUST in the mood for something sweet. I might not be tomorrow though, so I think I'll polish them off today. Thanks.

Kalim Al-Asim

To my dear friend— Thanks for the present! What colorful and sparkly sweets. They look delicious! I just had an idea! How about we eat them together after school? Gifts like this taste better when shared, after all. I'll pick out a good tea to go with them. Can't wait to see you later!

Jamil Viper

Hello— I was surprised to see you gifted me sweets. At first I wondered if you were hinting for me to make you something similar... But when I pulled the gift out of the bag, I saw all the details you put into it, right down to the ribbon. It's clear this was a heartfelt gesture. I'll treasure these treats as I eat them. Thank you.

Vil Schoenheit

Dearest friend— Thank you for the gift. The sweets were dazzling and most attractive. Did you try to imagine what I'd like when picking them out? If so, you made an apt choice. I'll have something for you later in return.

Rook Hunt

Bonjour, and merci beaucoup! What a lovely batch of confections! They’re so darling that I’m tempted to stow them away in a brilliant bejeweled box. Ah, but I jest. I’ll enjoy every morsel of this gift you’ve so thoughtfully bestowed upon me.

Epel Felmier

Dear friend— Thanks for the gift! Sweets from the city have a real fancy vibe, don't they? I'll savor every bite. I know this isn't exactly a gift, but I just scored some coupons for the cafeteria. Wanna join me for lunch tomorrow? Just wait for me, and I'll find you!

Idia Shroud

@YOU huh? What the wha? im low-key scared here why would u give me sweets??? ig that sometimes i run low on sugar when ive been gaming too long and my aim becomes trash... ok sure, if this is ur way of looking out for me, ill take it

Ortho Shroud

Hello, Prefect― Thanks for the present! The sweets were very charming and cute, not to mention colorful. What neat designs! I'll make sure to save this as a special memory. I've run the data on their base ingredients, and hope to gift you some fitting sweets in return soon.

Malleus Draconia

To my dear friend— Thank you. Never did I envision someone presenting me with the gift of sweet treats. It would be a shame for me to eat them all by myself. I think I'll share them with you. Would you be willing to provide the tea to go with them?

Lilia Vanrouge

Greetings! Your present was delightful. The treats had a subtle sweetness that was perfect for a slightly mature fae like myself. I'll be making you a lovely treat in return, using a very special recipe of mine. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Silver

Salutations— Thanks for the gift. I read once that sugar can boost your concentration. Did you give me these to snack on when I'm about to nod off during my studies? That was very considerate of you. I think I'll try them out today.

Sebek Zigvolt

Human— I've received your gift. It was agreeably sweet. In fact, it might've been sweet enough to make black coffee bearable... But I digress. Regardless, I was somewhat impressed with your choice. You have my thanks.

Grim

Dear hench-human— Mraaah! Is this ALL for me?! I've never seen such sparkly, yummy-lookin' candy before! I feel like a king! But I'd feel bad leavin' you out of this sugar extravaganza, so I GUESS you can have a small piece. I'm lookin' forward to more gifts, partner!

Dire Crowley

Dear esteemed student— Thank you for the delicious gift. And don’t bother telling me I was supposed to share it—I’ve already finished the whole package! If you wish for the staff to also partake, I suggest you acquire more treats. But don’t worry, I won’t say a word if you give the same gift twice. I’m kindhearted like that!

Divus Crewel

Dear pup— Is this a gift for the staff? Excellent. Now that I have some treats to sweeten my breaks, I'll be able to grade your exams with a much more critical eye. I can see the grimace on your face now. Relax, it was a joke. It's usually frowned upon for dogs to be the ones buying gifts, but since you're such a loyal pup, I'll let you off. I'm a generous trainer, after all.

Mozus Trein

Dear juvenile— I must wonder why you decided to get me a present. Is this your way of thanking me for my lecture the other day? If so, gifts are hardly necessary. It's a teacher's job to educate students with a thirst for knowledge. I can't accept any offerings from students, but the sentiment is much appreciated. I expect nothing but excellence from you moving forward.

Ashton Vargas

Dear student— Thanks for the present! Excessive sugar is a no-go when building a beautiful bod, but it'd be bad form to let your thoughtful gesture go to waste. Such is the price of popularity. I'll just have to accept that and work off everything I eat. Keep up those reps!

Sam

Yo, little imp! What is UP? Thanks so much for the gift! You've got a real eye for quality. I'll make sure to stock up on goods that'll pique your interest, so swing by the shop soon!

#twisted wonderland #twst #heartslabyul #savanaclaw #octavinelle #scarabia #pomefiore #ignihyde #diasomnia

[deathbxnny]

Friendo! Hello! How have you been? I come to place another request that's basically just the same HoHE!Elysia!Reader prompt from last time that was with Jing Yuan+Blade (because I still am a sucker for that idea and it's been in my head rent free).

May I request the characters this time be Welt Yang, Dan Heng and Kafka?

-----♡

A/N: Hey there! I absolutely loved this request, so I hope you'll like this one too! Also forgive me for taking so long... work sucks haha... (Og post here.)

Content: Fluff, established relationships, mentions of battle, something cute and wholesome for once, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

》Dan Heng

Dan Heng was always so quiet and reserved with his love for your Herrscher form. He'd stand there in silence, as he took in everything about you, watching you deal with enemies so gratefully it made his heart ache with love. And it didn't help, that he could get lost in the starry domain you created for centuries, if you let him. He was in love with you in every way and found you to be perfect, even if he never voiced it.

So he showed his fascination with you, by agreeing to a duel. He trusted you, just as much as you trusted him. He'd never hurt you, even if you asked him to give it his all. He just wanted to see your divine form again as you fought him, the endless starry skies stretching out above you as you fought.

Eventually, you ended up in his warm embrace, his forehead pressed against yours, eyes closed as he softly panted. The silence was filled by a melody created by your hearts and souls becoming one, as you absently swayed under the stars together for what seemed to be eternity to him.

-----♡

》Welt Yang

Welt knew all about your Herrscher form and yet still found himself watching you in silent awe. How could he not, when you were so divine? He could watch you endlessly and still not have enough of the sight of you. It often left you bashful, especially when you noticed the spark in his eye after a battle. He'd apologise for his stares with a smile, not meaning a word of it.

He was therefore hesitant to agreeing to a duel. It wasn't that he was afraid of hurting you, he would never. No, he just wanted you to rest in his arms and stare up at the stary skies of your domain forever. But alas, he is unable to deny you a thing and eventually agreed to a small fight. Even during it, you could feel his adoring gazes and lingering glances.

He spins you after an attack with ease, before pulling you into his arms with a chuckle. Seems like he has won, but that didn't matter to him, as he gently swayed with you through your domain, uncaring of the stars and galaxies that surrounded you. Why would he care anyways, when his whole world was in his arms?

-----♡

》Kafka

Kafka fell in love with you at first sight. How could she not, when you were so fascinating and divine to her? You were a light that shone in the darkness she considered her life. Without you, she'd be lost, something she often tells you in hushed whispers and teasing words. Anyone that dared disagree with how perfect you were, was shut down by her. No one would dare question you and your abilities she loved so much, with her around, that's for sure.

And since she can't deny you a single thing, she didn't think twice to agree to duel you. You had to however tell her to not hold back, as she can't get herself to be hard on you. The fight was elegant and graceful, the stars and galaxies reflecting in your eyes, when all you could see was eachother. Lingering touches, longing stares, dreamy exhales. It was all too much.

Eventually, she just pulled you into a waltz, humming a tune for you to dance to, as she rested her head on your shoulder with a satisfied smile. It was never a duel for her in the end, in fact, it was all just a performance. A performance that proved her love and devotion to you in ways only you could ever understand. And she'd be damned, if anyone dared take you away from her.

-----♡

A/N: Alright! I hope this was alright! I've been starting to slowly feel better and less tired lately, so I'm actually quite satisfied with my work now. I hope you liked it Anon and thank you for the request and your patience!<33

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr welt #hsr welt x reader #hsr kafka #hsr kafka x reader #hsr dan heng #hsr dan heng x reader #hsr

[britcision]

OKAY FRIENDOS

This chapter fucking fought me, not least because I wasn’t actually sure what exactly Danny wanted out of meeting Waylon… and then I realised that was because Danny wasn’t sure either

I did consider just letting this one run long and posting in two parts when all was said and done, but this was where I’d have had to break the chapter in two for Tumblr anyway, and it’s actually a really good place to end… so one more chapter for Waylon!

And then tumblr mobile decided not to let me fucking paste the chapter in, and I am fucking DYING with the laggy piece of shit that is the mobile website. I crave death. Let me join the boys.

First Chapter and AO3:

Previous Chapter:

——————

A Good Excuse To Be A Bad Influence 

Jason wasn’t exactly expecting to roll up to Danny’s dorm to thumping stripper music, and yet as he turned off the bike… that was definitely what was happening. 

Flicking the visor up, he soon caught sight of the cause, a visibly frazzled Danny hurrying over. His pocket seemed to be having an independent party that Danny himself was not invited to. 

“I have sinned against the almighty Tucker and am being punished for my crimes with an endless loop,” he explained flatly without being asked. 

Jason snorted, reaching back to unhook the new helmet from the back of the bike and hand it out. 

“Oh? And what did you do to upset his highness?” He teased, a smile tugging across his lips in spite of himself. 

In spite of the certain knowledge that Tim would absolutely be latching onto this form of punishment the second he found out. 

He’d not really felt like smiling since he got in last night, yet the second he saw Danny his anger eased. 

Didn’t hurt that the pit was practically vibrating in smug satisfaction, clearly appeased that he also wouldn’t let them be kept apart. But there was still an open happiness all Jason’s own in watching his new friend suffer. 

Danny sighed, pulling out a heavily wrapped sock-sausage that eventually contained his phone, and scrolled to show Jason some messages. 

Jason scanned through them quickly, because the music was fucking loud entirely unmuffled, then passed the phone back to be reburied. 

“You knew what you were doing,” he told Danny entirely unsympathetically, and Danny snickered. 

“Sometimes he needs to be told when he’s being a dramatic bitch. So were you there for the whole,” he waved a hand vaguely, the other stuffing his phone back into his pocket. 

Which meant Jason had to think about the cave again. And the phone call he’d gotten an hour after ignoring Bruce’s summons. 

:::

Jason was actually on his way to bed on time for once in his life, the early end to patrol and lack of crime lord duties giving him a chance to get a full five hours sleep. 

He should have known he wouldn’t get lucky two nights in a row; Constantine wasn’t around to distract Bruce anymore. 

He’d contemplated not answering. Contemplated trying not to shoot Bruce in half an hour if the fucker showed up at his window. 

The pit growled. 

It was the worst thing he’d ever heard. The worst thing he’d ever felt. And he did feel it, vibrating in his very bones. 

It sent shivers creeping up and down his spine, muscles tensing as if to run away from something inside him. 

He answered the call, hoping it wouldn’t show in his voice. 

“What.” Flat, unfriendly. Not encouraging conversation. 

“You didn’t come to the cave.” B’s voice was equally flat, but in his case it sounded like a condemnation. An accusation. 

Jason gritted his teeth. 

“I have shit to do in the morning. Make it quick,” he snapped, giving his bed a glare it definitely didn’t deserve. 

His pillows had never done anything to hurt him. 

There was a momentary pause before B audibly decided not to push it. 

Good. 

Jason was in a mood to bite. 

“We have intel on the Infinite Realms. I’ve sent the report. You need to stay away from Danny Fenton, for your health,” B said, still cold, still clinical. 

Like he didn’t care. Like what Jason wanted didn’t matter. 

Jason’s grip tightened and the phone case cracked. 

“Yeah, no. Fuck off.” He spat the words, adding “get new phone” to his list of chores for the morning. 

He’d been doing so well with this one. Of course B had to ruin it. 

At least the old man didn’t seem surprised by his reaction. 

“Jason. It… he. His abilities may affect your condition,” he said slowly, sounding tired. Old. 

The pit snarled, sensing weakness, and Jason kinda wished he was still lost in its rage. Back when he was, it was easy just to hate those moments. 

B showing signs of humanity fucking hurt. 

“He is. He’s making it better,” he shot back, brooking no argument. 

“We don’t know that, Jason. Please, just… just for a few days. Until we can talk to the League, understand what he’s doing to you.” 

Was. 

Was that Bruce begging? 

It froze something small and soft in Jason’s chest, stuck him in place. And did nothing to stop the flood of icy rage from filling him up. 

Filling his chest, crushing his lungs, making it hard to breathe. Because of course, anyone and everyone else’s judgement was worth more to the man than Jason’s. 

Begging Jason to listen to him, when he would never, ever, fucking ever listen to Jason. When it didn’t fucking matter if Jason begged. 

“And why the fuck would the League know better than a doctor from the Realms?” He finally snapped, ignoring the way his throat tightened. 

There was a long silence. 

“A doctor?” Bruce asked softly, his voice still so flat and emotionless that only his kids could have read the confusion. Jason rolled his eyes. 

“Danny brought me to a doctor. I’m gonna be fine,” he ground out reluctantly, part of him resenting Bruce’s constant insistence on knowing everything. 

But… well. If it got the guy off his fucking back. 

There was a long silence, one that Jason was fully aware B was likely spending working this new information into his latest paranoid fantasy. 

Jason seriously considered just hanging up and going to bed. He was about to do it when Bruce spoke again. 

“Would this doctor be willing to speak to the League?” And there it was again, Batman voice, clinical and distant and always, always fucking suspicious. 

Jason rolled his eyes harder. With emphasis. Willing to be interrogated by first the Justice League and then separately also goddamn Batman. 

Actually, now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure B wouldn’t get anywhere with Frostbite. Frostbite took his work seriously and was, yeah, king of a full realm of yetis. 

None of Bruce’s pointed silences, menacing looming, or vague growls would bug the guy who got Danny through Fucked Up Ghost Puberty. 

(And would probably be helping Jason through his own Fucked Up Ghost Puberty… joy of joys.) 

It might actually be fun to see him try. If just being here wouldn’t put Frostbite in danger, because hell fucking no that wasn’t happening. The guy may not be his king but Jason would still die first.

But of course, in all his paranoid bullshit about the Realms influencing Gotham, B had somehow conveniently missed what America was doing to the Realms. 

Like Jason hadn’t even done the full write up. 

“Not while the fucking League are required to hand him right to the US government for torture and experimentation. Which, by the way, did you read my report on the Anti Ecto Acts?” Jason asked sarcastically, doing his very worst fake concern. 

And again he was met with silence. Fuck, maybe Bruce hadn’t read it. Jason had dropped it in the day before all this gala bullshit had started, and it had been a busy two days since. 

Maybe B deadass hadn’t put the pieces together.  Might as well hammer it home for him. 

“You know, the one that says you, me, Cass, and Damian are all non-sentient because we’ve been exposed to the pits?” Jason added, eyes narrowing. 

Which wasn’t technically true, since it was the resulting liminality and ability to process ectoplasm that made them count, but Bruce didn’t need to know that yet. 

Finally he spoke again, voice gruff and clipped. 

“I’m looking into it. But for now, Jason, please-” he said again, the cover of Batman beginning to slip. 

But Jason was done. No fucking chance Bruce was giving him orders when he hadn’t even bothered asking for Jason’s opinion. 

He wanted to spout off about dangers of the Infinite Realms after talking to some wet paper bag of a man who hawked his soul like it was a pokemon card. Hard pass. 

And even after hearing that Jason knew what was going on a damn sight better than Bruce did, he still wanted to push him around? 

Fuck that. 

“Sorry B, legally non-sentient, guess I can’t be blamed for my actions,” he drawled, then turned his phone off and dropped into bed. 

He had a lot of shit to do before picking Danny up in the morning. 

:::

Jason shook his head, partially to clear it but also in answer to Danny’s question. 

“Hell no. Tim told me he was being a paranoid old fuck again so I went to bed,” he growled, a little surprised by the sudden rush of anger the memory brought. 

It must have been strong enough that Danny noticed it, because he could feel Danny’s worry too. 

He sucked in a sharp breath, pushing the anger back down. He still hadn’t turned his phone back on. 

Actually it might still be beside the bed in his apartment. It didn’t really matter. 

Danny took the new helmet from him, leaning up against Jason’s side in a soft wave of comfort-sorry-amused. 

Amused? 

Before he could ask, Danny had turned the helmet over to look at the visor. 

“So I’m guessing, from what we talked about in the car, what Tucker told me, and what you’re not telling me, that Bruce thinks you should be far, far away from me?” He asked innocently. 

The pit fucking growled again, raising the hair all along Jason’s neck, and Danny trilled soothingly to it. 

Even knowing what to expect, the sudden and complete lack of rage still made Jason shiver. 

“Thanks,” he said before Danny could apologise. 

For managing Jason’s unstable emotions for him when Jason couldn’t. Although… 

If they actually were the pit’s all along, that’d explain why it had been so hard to push through. It was weird that the idea was actually starting to feel comforting. 

Danny gave him a slightly relieved grin, nudging back. 

“Yeah, well, not like you recently bound your entire soul and afterlife into keeping me safe. Not like either of us know what the fuck that’s gonna mean,” he said, all flippant and glib, and… 

Yeah, he’d almost have a point, except Jason had put himself on the chopping block to keep others safe since he was thirteen years old. 

He shook his head, chuckling softly. 

“Oh, I didn’t get on with the old man long, long before you came into the picture,” he assured Danny with a dry smile, rolling his eyes. 

Danny snickered, spinning the helmet and looking “innocently” up to the sky. Whatever the fuck came out of his mouth next, Jason was ready for it to be a doozy. 

“Yeah, well… if I’m the bad influence boyfriend your dad wants you to stay away from…” and that sentence alone almost made Jason choke, without even the kicker, “can I drive your motorcycle?” 

At least it stopped Jason from coughing. He shot Danny a sudden suspicious glare. 

“Do you even know how to drive a motorcycle?” He asked with a full awareness of what the answer would be. 

Danny shrugged, giving Jason his best “innocent” smile. 

“Definitely motorcycle adjacent?” He offered sweetly. Jason shook his head firmly. 

“Nope.” 

“Oh come on!” Danny pouted, tossing both hands into the air, his new helmet held tight despite the dramatic gesture. 

Jason shook his head again, in case Danny had missed the point. 

“Nnnnnnnope,” he drew the word out, popping the p, and Danny rolled his eyes at him. 

“It’s not like a crash would kill either of us anyway,” he huffed, and while he may have that kind of confidence in his ghost powers, Jason’s core hadn’t formed yet. 

He wasn’t about to fucking risk it. 

“That doesn’t mean it’ll be a fun experience. They’re called “donor-cycles” for a reason,” he told Danny archly, definitely not moving from astride his girl while this was “up for debate”. 

Glanced back to find Danny staring at him, clearly holding back a snicker. 

“That sounds waaay more like something the Disapproving Dad Who Doesn’t Like His Son’s Hot New Motorcycle Boyfriend would say,” he pointed out, rising on tiptoe to rest his chin on Jason’s shoulder. 

Jason licked him. Mostly on the cheek. 

It was a stupid impulse, the kind he usually didn’t even get with anyone but Dick, and he might have regretted it immediately if it hadn’t fucking worked. 

Danny jumped back, cheeks flushing, and while Jason was pretty sure his own had pinked up, well, behind him Danny couldn’t see that. 

But he pulled on his helmet just to be doubly sure. 

“Yeah, well, protecting your ass includes not letting you kill us both in a fiery wreck. Or maim us,” he added before Danny could voice the protest Jason could clearly taste. 

Silence from behind him, and then Danny sighed and pulled his helmet on, climbing aboard behind Jason again. Who decided to throw him a bone. 

“I’ll teach you how to drive it first,” he promised, and Danny cheered loudly, thrusting both fists into the air as they pulled out. 

Neither really noticed that Danny’s background music had changed to Radar Love. 

** 

When they’d finally dragged themselves to bed, Tim had offered to let Tucker use one of the manor’s nearly infinite guest rooms. 

They’d picked one out and everything, changed into pyjamas (Tucker borrowed an old pair of Dick’s), and sat on the bed in Tim’s old room talking about technology until they both fell asleep. 

Probably around 8am. 

Tucker hadn’t had a proper slumber party since leaving Amity Park, but he was kinda getting used to waking up tucked next to a still-sleeping Wayne adoptee when his phone buzzed around 10am. 

Foul treachery from Danny. As usual. 

Tucker barely woke up, hand crawling from the pile to rest against the PDA, and that was all he needed. His awareness slipped from the device to his phone, always linked. 

From his phone to Danny’s. Into Danny’s music app, where he picked a suitable vengeance even as he slipped back into sleep. 

Watched Danny through the phone as if it were a dream, easily filtering out the sounds of his own music as Danny flailed around, trying to turn the music off, trying to turn the music down, failing on all counts, and flailing his way out of the dorm. 

Down to meet Jason, his phone now buried in six layers of socks that did nothing to stop the music from being heard, or Tucker from watching. 

Tucker cranked the volume a little more anyway. The thought had to count for something. 

If Danny wanted to call him petty, well, Tucker Foley could redefine “petty” all on his own. 

Providing his friends with a semi-mocking soundtrack really was the least of his abilities; he was literally doing it in his sleep. 

**

Honestly, driving in Gotham wasn’t even all that exciting from Danny’s perspective. After being tossed around the GAV despite the seatbelts, a couple of cranky fellow drivers just didn’t register. 

If they hadn’t been going through the city, maybe going highway speeds it might have been different, but he’d kind of worked out how loud he had to be to be heard. 

By Jason snickering when he screamed at pedestrians. 

If they didn’t want to be screamed at they shouldn’t be trying to loom menacingly. 

Of course, that just meant now was the perfect time for him to use his new power for evil. Danny flipped his visor up, straining as high as he could to yell to Jason. 

“SO, THAT CONSTANTINE GUY?”

There was a sudden click in his ear and he jumped as Jason’s voice came through, quiet and definitely amused. 

“There’s a radio in your helmet, Danny.” 

Oh. 

News to fucking him, he was pretty sure that wasn’t standard in motorcycle helmets, but not from any lived experience. Johnny 13’s dead experiences were a little out of date. 

Poking around the sides of his helmet, Danny soon found a button. 

“Sweet. Looks like you finally forgot to mention something,” he teased, and heard Jason snort loud and clear. 

Didn’t have to hold the button to talk then. Good times. He’d get Tucker to take a look on the way home after he ecto infused it. For now he flipped the visor back down. 

“Looks like,” Jason agreed dryly, swerving them around a cluster of traffic. 

He wasn’t exactly sticking to the letter of the law, they were definitely half again over the speed limit, but they hadn’t gone on a sidewalk so it was nothing to a Fenton. There was even an empty slot in the lane he merged into. 

“So what about Constantine,” he prompted, and while it broke Danny out of his musings, it also reminded him of the exact thing he’d planned to do to make the trip more interesting. 

“Oh, I own his soul. Like, a dozen times over,” Danny chirped perkily, grip tightening just before Jason had to slam on the breaks to keep from hitting the car beside them. 

They sped off again before the sudden swerve caused comment, and passed a block or two in silence. Then Jason sighed. 

“Of fucking course you do that for everything and not just Mariokart.” He mostly sounded resigned, so Danny allowed himself a snicker. 

“What, it’s not like we’re gonna die. You’re even still on the road,” he dismissed easily, waving a hand to show just how unconcerned he was. 

Did not expect Jason to huff, reach back and grab his hand, and pull it back around himself. 

“I’m reconsidering teaching you to drive,” he told Danny flatly, and Danny pouted but took the hint and held on. 

“Oh come on, you can’t say that, you haven’t even seen me try!” Danny protested. 

Jason made an unimpressed noise. 

“Your town’s weather includes reports of if your parents will be on the road.” 

Which, by the way, was totally unfair of him, since he’d never have known that if Danny hadn’t told him. Or Tucker hadn’t told Tim. 

Same difference. 

“My parents, not me,” Danny argued anyway, shrugging, “and it wasn’t their driving that killed me.” 

This time he was close enough, snugged tight to Jason’s back, that he felt the guy’s whole body shiver with a loud and rumbling growl. The same growl he’d heard and soothed earlier. 

Something had really riled up Jason’s pit ghost. 

Danny hummed another quick soothing trill, stroking his aura gently across Jason and his extra passenger. 

Sort of trying to do it unobtrusively; he would actually really prefer that they didn’t fully crash. It kinda worked, in that Jason managed to unlock suddenly solid muscles enough for them to make the next turn. 

“Sorry,” Danny said quickly, kind of to both of them, “guess Pitty doesn’t like the death jokes today.” 

They passed another few buildings in silence, and Danny had definitely noticed by now that they weren’t heading for the manor. Didn’t matter so long as Jason knew where they were going. 

Danny waited him out, long enough that he almost wanted to make another joke and lighten the mood. Again though, Jason broke it first. 

“Pitty.” He did not sound impressed. But he didn’t feel mad. More what the fuck just came outta your mouth. 

Danny gave him a quick squeeze, and almost felt the pit purr. 

It was kinda getting stronger the longer they hung out. Technically that probably meant that both cores were making progress. 

“Well, technically you probably get to name it, but until you come up with something I’m calling it Pitty,” Danny explained, and rather felt that Jason should be grateful. 

Unlike the rest of his family, Jason had seen the full list of how Jack Fenton named things. Danny preferred to think he took after his aunt. 

He coulda called it the Fenton Pit Friend or something. Really, it wasn’t hard to think of anything worse. 

From his aura, Jason now seemed to be intentionally ignoring him. 

Stewing in indignation-disbelief-confused-confused-confused. Well, that was his call. 

Anyway. 

“Back to Constantine though, I wasn’t kidding. I do actually own his soul,” Danny said casually, since they’d gotten distracted from his previous attempt to make the drive more interesting. 

For a moment he wasn’t sure if Jason would rise to the bait this time either, and then another sigh came over the radio. 

“Y’know, somehow, that’s the least surprising thing you’ve said. Man sells his soul so much everyone seems to have a chunk,” Jason grumbled, and Danny snickered. 

“Oh, pretty much. He’s the Caterpie of human souls. He never made a deal with me directly though,” he added quickly, without being fully sure why. 

He was pretty sure Jason wouldn’t jump straight to “Danny is a soul trader”, but honestly he’d gotten used to getting ahead of wilder trains of thought. 

“Oh? How’d you get twelve then?” Jason shot back, clearly warming back up to things. 

Mission accomplished. Danny grinned. 

“Well, previous Ghost King was in nappy time for a couple thousand years, but he had this whole thing about collecting souls to add to his army of thralls, so basically anyone could sign their soul over for a chunk of power. Real charmer,” Danny snorted, rolling his eyes. 

It was so far from the worst thing Pariah Dark had ever done, but so far it was definitely the longest lingering annoyance. 

“I got the impression,” Jason agreed in pretty much the same tone, prompting Danny to continue. 

Which. Yeah. Was more fun than thinking about the mountain of thrall contracts still awaiting their owner’s deaths, which the Observants were still fussing over. 

Nobody wanted more thralls, souls wiped clean of everything that made them, well, souls. Just unliving batteries. Even ghosts found them creepy. 

On the other hand, there was nothing the Observants loved more than rules. And the rules said a signed contract had to be honoured. 

Really they shoulda expected Danny to ask who the fuck signed for Pariah, since he was (again) in nappy time prison. He hoped nobody else died while they sorted that out. 

“Danny?” 

Ah. Yup, he did it again. Danny shook his head and sighed, kinda missing the wind in his hair. It kept him more present than the enclosed space of the helmet. 

“Sorry. So, John Constantine, clever bitch, wrote himself a contract that signed his soul over to the Ghost King, not Pariah Dark. Got through whatever screening was in place no problem, and now he’s my problem.” 

A problem that Clockwork had presented Danny with on his fucking birthday no less. 

That had been part one of the soul screening process; who was stuck with Pariah by name, and ho boy that was a depressingly long list… and still growing, though it had slowed recently. 

News of Pariah losing his crown was slow to spread, and frankly Danny himself could be doing more to help that, except. Well. 

Not taking the damn crown himself until he had to. Not wanting to give the creeps of the world anything to call him. 

There were a lot of good reasons, okay? And Clockwork had specially singled out Constantine’s contract and delivered it to Danny himself as a birthday present. 

“Well, that explains one,” Jason agreed with a snicker, pulling to a stop in front of the police station, “but what about the other eleven times?” 

Danny snorted a laugh, sliding off the bike and stretching. As much fun as hugging Jason at high speeds was, he didn’t like being still for too long. 

“Tax season,” he explained cheerfully, pulling off the helmet and looking around, “I guess we’re meeting Harley here?” 

Snickering to himself, Jason pulled off his own helmet and tucked it into the storage on the back of his bike. Danny passed it over, noting that Jason had also had to get a second little pod for the other helmet. 

He wasn’t gonna ask. Maybe they were in storage? 

“Yeah, we’re meeting Harley here. Better not to swing by the manor for a while,” Jason added, his expression souring. 

Which did make Danny feel a little bad actually. He didn’t want to cause trouble for Jason with his family… 

But before he could say anything Jason ruffled his hair roughly, shaking his head. 

“It’s not your fault, Danny. This kinda shit happens every other week, Bruce gets on his bullshit and I steer clear. He’ll calm the fuck down eventually and remember to mind his own business,” he explained dryly, nodding towards the doors. 

Danny hesitated before moving to follow. It felt true, he could feel Jason’s sincere-exhausted-familiar-still over it clear as day, it just. 

“I’m still sorry I wound him up though,” Danny finally decided, heading after Jason up and in. Jason who rolled his eyes and held the door open. 

“Danny. He winds himself up. You could be a literal angel and he would not fucking care. You couldn’t unwind him even if you miraculously found the key. We’ve all tried,” Jason said with a sigh, though at least the anger seemed to have burned off into just… 

Tired. 

Jason just felt tired. 

Probably cuz he was off fucking around with Cass last night, but Danny wasn’t about to call him out on it. 

Not when they’d just walked into the police station (ew) and the wild sight of Harley Quinn, hair in pigtails and dressed in her signature red and black, sat on the duty officer’s desk with a bat. Filing her nails. 

Total silence filled the room, broken only by the swing of the doors opening as Danny and Jason stepped through. 

The whole room was watching her in a kind of terrified awe, like she was a particularly dangerous bomb waiting to go off. Danny’d swear they weren’t even breathing. 

She looked up as the door opened, grinning broadly at the sight of them and waving in a large, exuberant gesture. 

“Oh, there’s my boys! Hey boys!” She called in obvious delight, and half the room flinched. 

Didn’t seem to matter that she hadn’t even been in Gotham for ages, let alone being her former roguish self. She had the kind of presence that left a lasting impression. 

No wonder Danny liked her. She coulda fit right in with his ghost friends. 

Maybe she’d come join them for fight club. 

** 

Pulling himself slowly from sleep just a little past noon, Bruce had to admit he was feeling better. The headache had dulled to a low throb but he felt clearer. 

More aware of himself, and after a glass of water, more like he could take on the day. 

It was far from his first concussion and he was well used to navigating the symptoms over the next few days. So long as he didn’t get any serious memory loss he wasn’t going to worry about it. 

He had far more serious things to worry about, but even they seemed more manageable after almost nine hours of sleep. 

Honestly… he wasn’t surprised that Jason hadn’t come to the cave. Hadn’t agreed to stay away from Danny when asked.  

It had felt like a reasonable request at the time, like the bare minimum of common sense. But they didn’t have that kind of relationship anymore. 

Jason didn’t trust him. Didn’t trust Bruce’s judgement, in how to deal with criminals or anything else. 

Jason hadn’t been the boy who’d looked to Bruce with such trust, such wonder and awe, even before he’d died. 

Sometimes Bruce wondered where he’d gone wrong. 

But there was no use dwelling on the past. Bruce would like to re earn Jason’s trust some day, but he wouldn’t ignore their present relationship. 

Jason wouldn’t trust that Danny was a danger to him without proof, so Bruce would find that proof, if it existed. Hopefully before Jason’s condition became proof itself. 

The first and most obvious step would be to consult the Justice League Dark at today’s meeting, and then make arrangements for this doctor from the Infinite Realms. 

He’d have to look into those laws Jason mentioned ahead of the meeting. Perhaps bring them up to Constantine, see how it might affect matters with the Infinite Realms. 

A bitter part of him mused that he wouldn’t be surprised if the magician was completely unaware of most international laws, let alone the ones of the various lands he travelled, but still. 

The man had been so adamant that the Infinite Realms were completely beyond their ability to handle. That they should cut and run at any cost. 

Bruce could hardly imagine he’d be pleased that the US had apparently declared its inhabitants the targets of its newest genocide. 

Of course, changing the laws and having them struck down would take time, but Bruce still hoped that the act of beginning might be enough. 

Enough for him to visit Jason’s doctor in the Realms or some other neutral ground, since the doctor couldn’t come here. 

Jason had said that he would be fine, not that he was already fine. Bruce wouldn’t have believed him if he had, not really; Jason hadn’t been fine since he’d been dunked in those damn pits. 

Their poison had stuck with him far longer than anyone Bruce had ever heard of. 

Hells, Bruce had had his own dunking. He could just barely remember the rage that had forced itself down his throat, into his lungs as he was brutally thrust back into the land of the living. 

He had controlled it, had mastered it quickly, and now it was nothing more than a faint scrap of memory. Even that was still enough to grant his deepest sympathy to Jason’s struggles. 

If the rage had never left him… 

But no, he decided, going through his morning routine like he was still the young playboy Brucie who never showed his face before 3pm. 

There was no point in indulging those thoughts either. He had mastered the pit’s fury, and it released him. For whatever reason, Jason hadn’t. 

And now they all had to deal with the consequences. 

Still, Bruce let himself hope for the future instead. 

If his children were right, if Jason was right… if Danny or this mysterious doctor from the Infinite Realms could help him with the pit rage… 

He might one day see that little boy again. The boy who looked at Bruce like he’d hung the stars, who could fly because Robin made him magic. 

There was nothing in this world or any other that Bruce wouldn’t give to see Jason whole again. To see him happy. 

The United States government were going to learn (again) what it meant to come between the Batman and the safety of his sons. 

The Justice League’s meeting would be in another four hours. He had plenty of time to do some research and amend their presentation. 

So long as Jason was right. 

And speaking of Jason… there was just one other thing he’d like to do this morning. Heaving a sigh while he had the privacy of his room, Bruce pulled up his phone again. 

He didn’t quite indulge himself as far as making a face as he punched in Constantine’s number, because concussed or not he was an adult. And he was going to need the man’s help. 

Surely Jason wouldn’t object to a single check in with a trusted practitioner? 

As the phone rang, Bruce once again cursed the circumstances that kept Zatanna off world. He was about 75% sure that Jason actually liked her. 

But maybe the extent to which Constantine annoyed Bruce would also cheer him up. 

The call went through, and Bruce snapped his wandering attention back. Maybe he’d take the rest of the day off after the meeting. Heal up a little more. 

Alfred would be proud. 

“Constantine. A moment of your time before the meeting?” It even sounded like a question, not a command. Sleep really had done him a world of good. 

**

Part of Jason wished he could say he was surprised that Harley had taken GCPD HQ hostage just by showing up, but he honestly wasn’t. 

Part of him wished he didn’t think that was exactly her intention, but… he didn’t particularly like lying to himself. Harley was fun. 

And got results, even if she also tended not to end lives. He could respect that. 

And promised not to rat him out to Danny, even if she made no promises about Waylon, who definitely also knew both his identities. 

That… Jason wasn’t really surprised by that either. They’d never talked about it, but Waylon had definitely known he was the second Robin for some time. 

A few of the rogues did, or at least assumed as much from the way the Batman would either obsessively chase or obsessively avoid him in mask. 

Jason personally preferred and egged on the side that thought Red Hood was Batman’s evil twin brother. Or clone. Mostly because Bruce hated them. 

Knowing civilian identities was a step beyond that Bruce would certainly never admit that more than one or two knew, but Jason had (slightly) less issues. 

It was kinda an open secret among the rogues who’d been around since the glory days; Bruce Wayne is Batman. As Danny so rightly said of Dick, the butts matched. 

(Jason was considering adding more padding to the body armour in his pants, if only to change the silhouette, because that was a fucked yet accurate identifier apparently.) 

Most of the rogues didn’t fucking care, Joker and Two Face especially, but it was something that no one talked about. 

And that they all specifically agreed to keep from Riddler for as long as possible. 

(It was his punishment for being obnoxious at trivia nights in Arkham; no one bothered to suggest banning him or asking him to behave.) 

For rogues like the Gotham City Sirens? Hadn’t been a secret since Bruce took off the mask for Selina. 

Killer Croc probably wasn’t technically one of the sirens yet (and wouldn’t that be fun?) but he hung out with Harley, and despite his size he wasn’t stupid. 

The only thing Jason was a little worried about was Waylon mentioning his current alter ego in front of Danny, but honestly the fact that they were at a police station would probably keep his lips closed. 

All vigilantes were illegal. 

Red Hood was illegal and a serial killer. 

And probably couldn’t get the silent and terrified reverence Harley currently held over the station even if he walked in with a rocket launcher. 

She beamed at them, hopping down off the desk with her bat over her shoulder. A little closer, Jason noted that this bat was also bedazzled, but in a different pattern from the one she’d had last night. 

Or the same bat, redone, but he wasn’t putting money on it. 

She hopped down off her desk and skipped across the room towards them, and Jason wished for half a second that he could command half as much menace doing something so… well, innocent. 

But no, he just put heads in a bag, that wasn’t scary apparently. Fucking Gotham. 

He obediently bent down for Harley to kiss his cheek, not wanting to be yanked around in the cop shop (even as a civilian), and still managed to be surprised when Danny also accepted a cheek kiss and then returned it. 

Harley squealed in delight and ruffled his hair, then pinched both Danny’s cheeks. 

“Awww, ain’t you all cute and cosmopolitan! So, shall we go see my big green bestie!” She declared happily, releasing Danny and turning back to lead the way out of the room. 

Didn’t go for the keys. Didn’t address the question to anyone who should have been leading them down. Just got going, the way Harley always did. 

No one moved to stop them. 

** 

Surprising precisely no one, Harley absolutely knew the way down to the cells at the GCPD. Not from a lotta personal experience, o’ course. 

Nah, Harley usually went from crime scene to Arkham back in the day, but she’d known people and busted people out of holding before. 

It had taken a couple real big favours to get Waylon kept here instead of shipped back to Arkham, but that was what favours were for. No one liked having a Harley-debt over their heads. 

And Brucie’s word was gonna get Waylon released on her recognizance, once she scooped some shivering copper out from under their desk. 

He’d have to actually behave this time though. No big bat-centric events, nothin’ above ground. 

Honestly… she might ask him ta head home. Being in Gotham wasn’t good for either of them. Too many old patterns and bad habits, and Waylon had been doin’ a real good job keeping his nose clean. 

If he wanted ta head back to Coney, they could get ‘im a ride. And if he didn’t, well, she’d have someone to watch the new show with.

Her two baby birds were following her like good little ducklings too, absolutely adorable. Although… she paused for a second, cocking her head. 

“Is there a reason we’ve got theme music?” She asked with a delighted giggle as the song clicked. 

It was a little muffled, but Styx’s Renegade? Ballsy choice for a trip to the cop shop. 

The question seemed to surprise both boys though, and then Danny sighed, reaching back to pat a weirdly bulging pocket. 

“Yeah, I upset my techno-god bestie this morning. Apparently my punishment is a soundtrack of my life,” he said dryly. 

Jason paused, a slight frown on his face as he listened too. 

“Wait, it changed? I thought you were on a loop?” He asked, and that was an interesting development. 

Danny just shrugged. 

“Yeah, he’s probably keeping an eye on us and changing it up when he thinks it’s funny. I think I know this song,” he added with a slight frown, brows furrowing as he listened. 

Jason listened a moment longer, then snickered and shook his head. 

“Tuck’s got good taste in music,” he said simply, and yeah, Harley remembered Tucker from dinner. Another lil cutie, all tucked up with Timmy in their own little world half the time. 

Damn good at Mariokart and Spiderheck too. 

Danny snorted and flipped Jason off. 

“Suck up.” 

And immediately the music changed, flipping straight to Pink’s Slut Like You, suddenly louder… although that mighta also been the song. 

Danny groaned as his pocket loudly declared that he was not a slut, and Jason laughed at him entirely unapologetically. 

“And that’s why I’m not the one with the soundtrack,” he declared smugly and Danny sighed, raising both hands in unequivocal surrender. 

“Yes, yes, I’m a bad and naughty boy and I’m getting my just punishment. Can we just get going?” He asked almost rhetorically. 

The music changed again, sultry twanging of a guitar before Lil Nas X began to sing Montero. It took Harley a moment longer to place it than the boys, both of whom now looked confused. 

“I can’t tell if he’s encouraging you or not,” Jason said finally, and Danny sighed. 

“Well I’ve pole danced into Hell before, so I’m taking it as a compliment either way,” he decided with a shrug, trying to shove what looked like an overstuffed sock deeper into his pocket. “I swear the volume shouldn’t get this loud.” 

“Joys of a touchy tech friend,” Harley opined with a snicker, glancing around to see if there were cameras Tucker could be watching from. She blew both she found a kiss, then spun to continue their quest. 

And realized that neither of the boys had followed her, both now watching her warily. 

“What?” She asked, frowning and turning to see if she’d stepped in something. Nope, just clean floors. 

“Danny’s sin was calling Tucker overdramatic,” Jason explained, and oh. Yeah, that explained the looks. 

Harley waved a hand cheerfully, deliberately brushing it off. 

“An’ now he’s givin’ ya life a soundtrack, so I dunno that he disagrees,” she said lightly, skipping back towards the stairs, “c’mon!” 

And when no new burst of music began to switch out Lil Nas, the boys got to following again, Danny grumbling about unfairness. 

Harley liked Danny. He had a refreshing lack of fucks to give, a good sense of humour, and he doted on Jason, who fucking deserved it. 

They’d be so good together, and Harley was gonna have the time of her life watchin’ them work that out. 

Which, now that she thought of it… 

“Hey, by th’ way, ya said ya didn’t wanna meet at the manor?” She prodded, turning to walk backwards down the steps to the cells, frowning at Jason, “what’d Brucie do now?” 

And watched the ease in Jason’s face freeze, muscles tightening, and Harley sighed. Yeah, a trip back to the manor was definitely in order. 

“Just his usual bullshit,” Jason grumbled, running a hand through his already wild helmet hair. Danny snickered beside him and gave her a broad grin. 

“Jason’s officially banned from hanging out with me,” he explained far too smugly, since there wasn’t a chance Jason would have listened to any Bruce-ban. 

But, he was beside the tall and handsome stud he had a crush on, so Harley wasn’t gonna argue. She grinned back at him, just as her foot nearly slipped on a step. 

Before the fall could fully start, she pushed off harder with the other foot, dodging both startled hands grabbing for her, and turned the fall into a backflip down the rest of the stairs. 

Taking gymnastics as a kid really should be a prerequisite for villainy. Especially with the Robins flipping around all over the place. 

She landed almost perfectly, stepping onto her back foot and then raising both arms and giving the boys a little bow. Then she sighed, resting her bat over her shoulder and mock pouting, tapping the side of her jaw. 

“I guess I’m just gonna have ta go back and give ‘im a lil percussive maintenance… bet he hasn’t been restin’ right since he got that concussion either. Maybe I’ll call Selina ta keep ‘im in bed for a week,” she mused. Jason mock puked. 

“I thought you wanted him to rest,” Danny snickered, earning himself a glare from his one true love. A consequence that did not phase him in the least. 

Harley laughed and waved a hand lightly, skipping ahead to get the door into the hall that held the actual cells while they descended the rest of the stairs. 

“Oh, she’s a big girl, Selina can do the work,” she teased, laughing louder when Jason groaned like his soul was being sucked out. 

There was a cop still sat behind the desk just inside the door, an older man whose stocky frame had started softening with age. 

He didn’t quite jump out of his seat as she entered, but dark eyes widened and ruddy skin paled when he saw her. Which, yeah, she had that effect on people. 

“Why are you here?” He demanded, voice only shaking a little. 

Harley gave him a sceptical once over. 

Not someone she’d run into personally, though probably on the force when she’d been active. Off the streets now, probably not far from retirement and trying to make it all the way there. 

Not a lotta Gotham cops did these days, in spite of the rampant corruption. Being in the Penguin’s pocket did sweet fuck all to protect ya when Scarecrow was having a hissy fit. 

This old bugger had probably joined back in the bad ol’ days when they could just ignore mob crimes, hassle the homeless, and look the other way if a situation got violent. 

These days between Gordon, the bats, and the increasingly dramatic rogues (among which she still counted herself even if Batsy didn’t, she had a reputation to uphold)? 

Lookin’ the other way wasn’t the protection it used ta be, and bein’ conveniently “late” to a crime scene didn’t help much either. 

This guy? Probably folded like cheap laundry at the first sign of trouble, but he’d stayed in place. That’d make her job easier anyway. 

Smiling sweetly at him, Harley strolled forwards and propped her bat on the floor, both hands on the handle as she leaned forward over it. 

“Pickin’ up a friend,” she told him sweetly, nodding to the line of cells down the hall, “Uber for Mr Waylon Jones?” 

The guy (Officer Perkins, said the name tag, but he’d not really proved himself memorable yet) swallowed visibly, hands shaking but still visible above the desk. 

Not going for a weapon. Not surprising. 

No one who’d seen a gun pulled on Harley before tended to try it themselves. Just like the Robins, she was a tough target. You had to be real sure. 

“Do you have the appropriate paperwork?” He rasped, a Gothamite accent still prominent despite the quiver. 

Harley raised an eyebrow, letting her smile go deadly sweet. 

“Would ya stop me if I didn’t?” She cooed, rocking forwards on her toes and grinning when his chair slammed back almost two feet. 

The shaking had progressed to a full body shiver, sweat dripping down a blotchy brow as he slammed a ring of keys on the edge of the desk, as close as he was willing to get. 

Harley scooped them up and straightened, tipping him a wink as she sauntered past. 

“Thanks bud! But yeah, I do actually have the paperwork, Judge Thompson’s gonna fax it all along this afternoon,” she told him brightly, twirling the ring of keys around one finger as she skipped back towards the cells. 

The judge’d fax it after she had another lil chat with Brucie. They’d cut things short last night, apparently too short for even their actual chat to finish sinking in. 

Gotta fix that. 

And remember to mention Waylon. 

And maybe see if he had any info on her own little issue. Though she might hit Barbara up for that first, bring some treats down library way. 

It was gonna be a busy day for ol’ Harley, but at least she got to spend time with the kids first. 

“Was that really necessary?” Jason asked with a raised eyebrow, following her down the hall with barely a glance at their shaking audience. 

“Necessary?” Harley asked sweetly, glancing into the first couple cells and skipping on. “No. Fun, yes!” 

“See this is why I like her,” Danny decided with a sage nod, and Harley shot him a wink, “she knows how to have a good time.” 

“I know how to have a good time,” Jason said immediately, and holy shit that was just sooooooo cute she nearly dropped the keys to go pinch his little cheeks again. 

Just all pouty and defensive and they weren’t even talkin’ about him! It was too much, Harley couldn’t stand it! 

“Yeah, and I like you too,” Danny replied in what he probably thought was a cool way, but no, that was just fucking adorable too. 

Too. 

Cute. 

Harley was gonna die. 

And maybe get herself a cool glowy transformation sequence apparently, which would be kinda cool. She’d always kinda wanted a magical girl moment. 

She could be their fairy-ghost-mother! 

And, to be fair ta Waylon, she had definitely gotten side tracked again. Almost forgot who she was here for. 

But really, it did not mean he had to make a grab for her when she almost walked right past his cell! She coulda done him an injury! 

He released her arm before the bat came down though, chuckling in that growly way of his and raising both hands. 

“Hey. Didn’t want you goin’ right past,” he said innocently, and Harley sighed fondly and reached her bat through the bars to bonk him gently on the head. 

“Hush you, I’m not that distractible,” she scolded him, completely ignoring any disbelieving noises from her two little love birds, “an’ anyway, you gotta be nice to me. I’m bustin’ yer ass out.” 

She jangled the keys at Waylon instead, then began swiping through them for the right one. 

The big guy obediently stepped back to let her look, his attention shifting past her to Danny and Jason. 

“An’ you brought company,” he growled, a wry grin on his face. She had to wonder if he’d noticed how dang adorable they were already at the gala. 

She’d missed soooo much! But he’d catch her up, because that’s what besties did. And cuz she’d kick all the kittens out of his room if he didn’t. 

Jason shrugged, coming up behind her to lean on the bars. 

“I had a passing interest in why you wanted to use me as bait for Two Face. We’re not exactly close,” he explained, the edited down version for their legal listeners in. 

“Ya got balls for a rich kid,” Waylon chuckled just as Harley found the key. One quick victory fist pump and she got to work on the lock. 

Really, there was a reason modern stations had one key ta open all the cells. Or electric locks. What if there was a fire? 

But then, it was Gotham. They’d happily let all their perps burn. An’ probably keep usin’ it as an excuse why they all needed a fat budget increase. 

“Victory! An’ he’s my adorable lil nephew, Croccy, so you’re gonna play nice,” she warned Waylon sternly, swinging the door open and wagging a finger at him sternly. 

Again, for the benefit of their audience, but also because she enjoyed putting on a little panto. A bit o’ show. 

(She’d have to remember to tell him Danny wasn’t in on the whole Hood secret though. She’d slip it in somewhere.) 

Waylon grunted in amusement and stepped through the door, stretching to his full height and breadth in the hallway. And stopping. 

“Who’s playin’ music?” He asked, head cocked as he tried to trace the muffled sound. 

Honestly, Harley’d kinda forgot it was playing until he said it. 

Danny sighed again, at his most put upon, and raised a hand. 

“I have offended the technogod and am being punished by soundtrack,” he explained in a tone so dry it desiccated. And didn’t exactly help. 

Harley patted the now-more-confused Croc on the elbow. 

“He’s upset one of his lil nerd friends by callin’ him dramatic, so his friend hacked ‘is phone to make it play music,” she explained much more helpfully for sure. 

Again, Jason and Danny took slight steps away from her. 

Again, nothing continued to happen. 

Harley’s smile grew more smug. 

“An’ apparently said friend still can’t get inta mine,” she declared brightly, shooting another glance up at the security camera and tapping her pocket. 

Waylon grunted again, clearly not needing to ask further because her explanation was perfect, and gave Danny a nod of recognition. 

“An’ is that why you’re here? Mood music?” He asked, heading off down the hall back towards the doors. Which, yeah, they had places to be. 

Danny brightened right away, grinning up at Waylon and moving to let the big guy pass. 

“Unless you want a rematch? I haven’t been tossed around like that in a while and I could use the exercise,” he snarked, and yeah, this was why Harley liked him. 

Waylon clearly did too, snickering and clapping a massive hand on Danny’s head on his way by. 

“Mouth like that’s gonna get yer killed one day, kid,” he grumbled, ignoring the still cowering cop as they made for the stairs. 

And Danny, bless him, angel of timing, just laughed and followed along, shooting Jason a wicked grin. 

“Oh, it’s way too late for that,” he said light as air, making Jason let out a snort of laughter. 

Waylon glanced down to Harley again, fully aware he’d missed something. She gave him another pat on the elbow. 

“Jason an’ Danny met at Dead Kids Anonymous. Kid’s got himself a ghost transformation an’ everything,” she explained simply, which didn’t have to be completely true to get the point across. 

It made Waylon snicker again, even as Danny cackled along behind them. 

“Now THAT is what we’re telling everyone else. We might as well have,” he rasped between laughter. 

His pocket music seemed to have changed to Thriller. Appropriate. 

Jason rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning. 

Harley didn’t think she’d seen him smile this much the entire time he was alive again. It was nice; most of the times she’d seen him as Robin they’d been fightin’, but he’d always been havin’ so much fun. 

At least he looked like he had. Poor kid deserved to smile a whole lot more too. 

Waylon was taking the news of Danny’s lack of mortality pretty well, giving the kid a thoughtful look. They’d made their way mostly out of the station now, their little bubble of terrified silence moving with them. 

That’d get old one day, but until then Harley was gonna take advantage. 

“Maybe we’ll have another tussle then,” he agreed with a low chuckle, holding the door for the others to leave through. Real southern gent. “Good t’know I won’t break ya.” 

Danny bounced through the door as chipper as Harley herself, giving him a beaming smile. 

“Hell yeah, we’ll find somewhere nice and out of the way. Oh, we had some questions too though,” he added almost as an afterthought, giving Jason a sheepish look that again: too cute. 

Maybe that was how he’d really died. Too cute to live. Though she’d let him make that joke himself. 

Jason didn’t seem bothered, though he did look a little more tense. Not sure where they’d be taking this, more’n likely. 

“Once we get somewhere private,” Waylon agreed, glancing between Jason and Harley himself. 

That probably meant it was on her to pick a destination then. Well, Harley had a place in mind that (while not technically private) wouldn’t involve onlookers. 

“Yeah, I know a spot! I’ll send ya the address, Jayjay, an’ we’ll meet ya there. Don’t think we’ll get four on that bike,” she teased, pulling out her phone. 

She knew the perfect spot, and it’d give her a chance to loop Waylon in. All good news. 

Jason held up a hand quickly.

“Not got mine on me. Text Danny,” he called, and Harley waved her phone over her head in acknowledgement. It might give Tucker a way to jump into her phone, she wouldn’t know.

Tech wasn’t her shtick. Just a good thing they’d all exchanged numbers the night before.

** 

It was a weird feeling to have his body shaken while his consciousness was so far from it. 

Feeling his face pull into a frown not quite mirroring what he felt it should be. Tucker could never have explained precisely what part of him entered his devices; just that it was him. 

Quintessential, pure essence of Too Fine. Everything he was without the meat he was born in. 

But then he did have to slot back into that meat, and trying to do that without matching positions always left him feeling weirdly off kilter the next day. Like he’d put on a shirt but the shoulders were skewed too short. 

So despite not being conscious of a face on his extended form, Tucker tried to form it into a frown anyway, sliding back under his own skin like a teen sneaking back through a window after curfew. 

Hadn’t those been heady days? 

Eyes slowly opening, it took Tucker a moment to remember how to focus them. That they weren’t cameras. But then Tim Drake-Wayne came into focus, and the frown changed to a grin even before he fully “woke up”. 

“Morning,” he mumbled, rolling and stretching, getting used to the feeling of a body again. It was a little weirder each time, which he might have worried about if he didn’t see himself as an extension of his PDA anyway. 

“You were singing in your sleep,” Tim told him without preamble, returning the smile. 

Tucker hesitated for a moment, suddenly embarrassed. If… well. If he’d been singing along, that… 

Look he’d picked songs that’d embarrass Danny, he wasn’t gonna give a fuck about it. The only actual question was, did he tell Tim? 

Who else would ever understand better just what it meant to interact with tech the way he could? Could get excited with him about how cool it was? 

He wasn’t fucking gushing to Technus. No way. Tuck was easily the one winning that ongoing hackathon, but it was the principle of the thing. 

To the zone with it. Tim knew about Amity Park, he knew about the ghosts and the liminal tech. And while they hadn’t exactly discussed liminal people, it’d come up. 

Tim could have a sneak preview. As a treat. 

Decision made, Tucker gave the younger man another broad smile because yeah, bragging about your super powers to a very cool and impressive person? That felt good. 

Tim might be a vigilante too, but Tucker was pretty sure Jason was the only souped up Robin. Most of the bats were famously power free. 

“Oh, yeah. I was bullying Danny,” he explained with a light chuckle, glancing up to find his beloved PDA, Ida. She was half under a blanket now, so he tugged her back out. 

Tim chuckled softly, leaning back and stretching himself. 

“Good dream?” He asked and Tucker snickered, stroking gently across the screen. 

“Danny wishes it was a dream.” Tucker paused, frowning a little at the confusion on Tim’s face. “So you remember we kinda talked about the whole liminal thing?” 

That seemed to jog Tim’s memory, confusion fading into an analytical frown that Tucker was already becoming familiar with. That good ol’ geek face. 

“The humans with budding ghost powers,” he agreed, and Tucker had to wonder if maybe he just hadn’t put the right pieces together yet. 

He hadn’t exactly said that most of Amity Park were liminal, but it was a little hard to remember he had to. Like, they lived on a portal to Hell. 

Maybe he shoulda. 

Well, at least it was a cool way to introduce it to him. 

Tucker pulled Ida into his lap, flipped her over, and tapped the plain plastic backing to demonstrate. 

“Mine’s a low level technopathy at the moment,” he explained as the PDA hummed and then began playing… well, still Montero, so he flicked it again and changed it immediately to Country Roads. 

Tim was watching him with a kind of hungry fascination, and Tucker turned the music off with a thought, then passed her to Tim so he could check for secret touchpads. 

“It’s not something I can do with anything,” he explained with a modest shrug, grinning with pride as Tim immediately got to scanning the casing. 

All simple plastic, not even biometrics; what would be the point? Even touching the PDA was pretty much a formality at this point. She was a part of him. 

“Technopathy? So you can control it with your mind? Why not with anything?” Tim asked eagerly, hands stroking over the plastic, eyes darting between it and Tucker. 

Like he wasn’t sure which was more interesting, Tuck or tech, and Tucker absolutely took that as a compliment. 

“It has to be a device I’ve really gotten into. Like, down to the source code, or something I’ve cracked before a couple times, and then I can just feel how all of it works.”

Tucker wiggled his fingers demonstratively and the PDA beeped to life under Tim’s hands, making the other man gasp. And yeah, totally envy in those cute blue eyes he turned all balefully on Tucker. 

“How many of the functions can you use? Anything the PDA can do, or…” Tim trailed off, clearly thinking of everything he’d already seen the PDA do. 

The real question would have been what couldn’t Ida do. And honestly? Yeah, Tucker remembered the trial phase. 

He gave another shrug. 

“Technically? Yeah, anything she can do, but I still prefer hacking the old fashioned way. Most of the network stuff too, cuz I’m only really “in” the PDA. Or Danny or Sam’s phones.” 

Tucker hesitated, wondering how best to really explain the difference. Danny had never been any good at it, Tucker’d had no idea what he was talking about from the video game thing right up until he’d been sucked in himself. 

Which… was probably gonna be a next-hangout adventure for Tim and the bats. And Oracle, if he could swing it. 

For now he gave up, giving Tim a hopeless grin. 

“Honestly it’s something you’ve really gotta feel for yourself. Danny’s great at the transition from real world to code, but he always just punches things, y’know? Turns out knowing how code is actually supposed to work doesn’t translate well to being part of it,” he added with a sigh. 

Because frankly? It was bullshit unfair. Tucker could code an entire other galaxy around Danny with his eyes closed, but put them in the same metaphysical layer as a firewall and Danny could just. 

Punch it. 

Which, theme for the week, was also not how firewalls fucking worked. At some point Tuck figured he’d either gain a new level of understanding through liminality, or give up and ask Technus a couple questions. 

Technus was currently Tucker’s subject instead of Danny’s anyway. They’d made a bet. 

Which meant Technus shoulda told him about their shenanigans in time, which was probably what Tucker would hold over his head for the whole firewall thing. 

It was so nice when things just worked themselves out. 

Tim looked a little disappointed, but mostly still intrigued. Tucker could see his fingers just itching for his own tablet to take notes. 

“Do you think that’ll change?” He asked, blurting it out like he couldn’t hold back now that Tucker stopped talking, “I mean, if you become more liminal? Or just practice your abilities more?” 

And see, this was what Tucker loved about Tim Drake-Wayne. They were on the same wavelength. He grinned back. 

“Probably. But I mean, it’s kinda cheating too. For now I kinda like that I have to do things the way I always used to first, before any ghostly powers kick in. It’s more me, y’know?” And like hell he’d let anyone think his code skills were just some meta ability. 

He’d worked damn hard for those skills, and he was damn good. One of the best, and he was also good enough to know he still wasn’t actually top of the charts. 

That was the Oracle, although knowing they still hadn’t cracked his servers felt really good. 

Tim was all but vibrating, clearly full of questions, but they were both interrupted by a loud growl from Tucker’s stomach. Immediately echoed by Tim’s, so at least he wasn’t alone. 

The two shared sheepish grins, and then Tucker stretched. 

“So, breakfast and then Twenty Questions?” He offered cheerfully, and Tim nodded at once, thrusting the PDA back and rolling off the frankly massive bed. 

“We can start while we eat, everyone else has probably gone out by now,” he said over one shoulder, stripping out of his clothes from the previous night and hurrying for his closet. 

Ah hell, Tucker had only brought the one change of clothes… which Alfred had laundered yesterday after the snowball fight. Which would mean they were. 

In a place. 

Probably in the manor. 

Maybe in the room they’d talked about setting up? 

He looked to Tim, and only then noticed that his tech idol was shucking off his boxers in exchange for new ones, entirely unselfconscious. 

Tucker frowned back down at his current borrowed shirt instead, waiting til he at least heard both feet on the floor before looking over again. Tim might not care, but in case he did, Tucker could be a gentleman. 

And then he could ask the important question. 

“Speaking of Alfred… my clothes?” He asked hopefully, and yeah, the way Tim’s mouth dropped open and his brain visibly blue screened? 

Just like Danny. They were gonna get along great. 

** 

Of all the top secret, private places in Gotham to go and have a villainous chat… Danny never would have expected a milkshake bar. But like he’d said last night, that was kinda what made it perfect. 

Who’d expect to find Harley Quinn and Killer Croc, properly Waylon, sat in a pastel pink corner booth in the back of the bar? 

Honestly, none of the staff seemed surprised. But they might not have been to see all the bats walk in; it was Gotham. Rogues happened. If no one pulled a weapon, don’t be the reason that changes. 

It made him feel right at home, really. Just like Amity Park. 

And they made a damn good milkshake. Danny took another deep slurp of his, cookie butter and cheesecake was definitely a combo he’d been sleeping on. 

If pressed, he couldn’t really explain what he’d wanted out of this meeting. 

Something in what Harley had said last night had struck home in a way he hadn’t expected, but with Waylon in front of him now… well, for one thing he seemed a lot more like just some guy who happened to be green. 

And who was just adorably happy with his cotton candy milkshake, complete with little umbrella. 

At the gala, he’d been big and menacing and monstrous, all things Danny was very used to and meant “friend” more often than they meant anything else. He’d still take a rematch, but he just… 

Well, that was just it, wasn’t it? 

Waylon really wasn’t all that monstrous, if you looked the faintest scratch past sharpened teeth and scales. He was polite to the servers, a happy straight-man to Harley’s jokes, and he could have teased Jason more for Danny’s tastes but it was definitely effective. 

Jason was much more at ease here with two rogues than he’d been any time his adoptive dad was around. That… well, Danny knew full well he didn’t know much about Jason’s life. 

It felt like he’d learned a whole lot more just today already, though again, it’d be hard to explain exactly what. 

The conversation had been light, easy, and full of banter so far, and Danny really wasn’t sure how to segue from that to “so you were called a monster all your life”. 

Because while for the most part Danny now only had to deal with the GIW calling him a monster (and they’d been quiet for years now, still rebuilding after the whole “bomb the ghost zone” bs)… the things his parents had called him still hurt. 

The things people thought he was, ghosts and living alike, he just… he didn’t know what to do with it. These days he could mostly ignore it, and unlike Waylon he could even pass for living. 

(Never for a ghost though. He’d never be able to stop any ghost from seeing him and knowing immediately, instinctively, that he was other.) 

In some ways it felt like meeting Vlad all over again, but without the crushing disappointment. Well, what it might have been to learn there was another halfa if he hadn’t preceded it by being a massive creep. 

It was… complicated. And all tangled up in his feelings around Jason, because Jason actually was like him and really did get it, or would soon. 

And Jason clearly liked Waylon, for all he grimaced and bitched about the deadpan teasing. Waylon had a lot of interesting stories about Jason’s cape days, most of which Jason hurried to try to interrupt. 

Harley had more, and they’d sat at opposite ends of the table before the boys had arrived, almost certainly so Jason couldn’t shush them both at once. 

If he clapped a hand over Harley’s mouth, Waylon would either take up the tale or start one of his own, and vice versa. There was just no way Jason could win. 

It reminded Danny of his own rogues, though maybe more Fright Knight than Ember or Johnny. The ones he got along with, but more respectfully than just his friends. 

Kinda like watching Harley with the rest of the bat-brood. 

Danny was very nobly doing his best not to enjoy it too much; within a week or two it’d be his turn roughhousing with his rogues, and he was hoping Jason would return the favour. 

There was no way he could get any kind of ghost fight club going without his usual players, and those were the ones with all the most embarrassing stories of his early days. 

Johnny and Kitty especially had blackmail material for days, so as much as Danny was loving the lil baby Robin stories (carefully never actually mentioning the name, since no one was masked)… no, his feeling was kinda more impending doom. It’d be his turn soon. 

And Ancients help them if Harley and Waylon met Johnny and Kitty… nope, not thinking about that. Suppressing a shudder, Danny deliberately tuned back in to Waylon’s story about the time he’d kidnapped Bruce Wayne. 

At least Jason was having fun with this one. 

Of course, it couldn’t have the obvious ending; whether or not Waylon had known at the time that he had Batman, you couldn’t mention the punch line out in public. It’d be rude. 

He left the story at the Robin beat down instead, declaring that the big Bat himself hadn’t even bothered to show up. Didn’t quite go full stage wink, but it was pretty much the next best thing. 

Danny laughed along with the table and Jason shook his head, settling back into his seat with a low huff. 

“Fun as this is, we did have some questions,” he said, voice just a little lower than before. 

Danny was a little surprised he’d bring it up in such a public space. Right up until Harley glanced around, nodded, and settled back into her seat. 

“Clear too. Any o’ the gawkers ‘ve been seen out,” she agreed with a slight nod. 

Danny startled, looking around himself. The milkshake bar was… about half as full as it had been when they arrived. His confusion must have been obvious, because Waylon snickered. 

“It ain’t the Iceberg Lounge, kid, but this is one of Dr Freeze’s more self sustaining operations. Can’t all be heisting diamonds,” he added with a slight shrug. 

Not noticeably less confused, Danny turned to Jason instead. Jason chuckled softly, shaking his head and giving Danny a grin that was almost proud. 

“Shit, you’ve lived in Gotham a year and it’s a fucking miracle how little you know. Iceberg Lounge is the Penguin’s upscale club. This place is run by the guy we talked about last night, freeze rays and diamond heists,” he explained quickly. 

Harley snickered, draping her arms over the back of their booth. 

“An’ if some o’ his ol’ Arkham buddies come in ta chat, his people know ta clear out anyone tryin’ to listen in too hard,” she added, nodding to one of the servers. 

Well. 

That tracked. 

Danny had also definitely thoroughly demolished his “keeping away from rogues” spree, which kinda sucked. But then, since he’d basically gone from one extreme to the other? 

Maybe that’d be fun to tell his classmates about too. It definitely tracked more with Danny’s understanding of his own luck. A whole year, no trouble? More like no chance. 

Also meant this had to be a safe place to talk, apparently. What was it about rogues that made them so eager to get on with each other but nobody else? 

Well, Danny got on with most of his now. But still. 

Jason leaned forward, arms folded on the table. 

“So what’s going on with Two Face, Waylon?” He asked quietly, still apparently aware of eavesdroppers. 

Waylon glanced around the bar, then shrugged, settling back against the booth. 

“Hard to say, with ‘im. Coulda been a coin flip, coulda been somethin’ else, but he wasn’t just gunnin’ for the gala. Somethin’ about you specifically put a bug in his ass, kid,” he added with a frown, nodding towards Jason. 

Something in Danny tensed, not liking the idea of anyone targeting Jason. Of course, it must have happened before… when he was Robin. 

And he’d died. 

Danny hadn’t even noticed he was clenching his fists until Jason nudged his foot under the table. 

Safe-worry-you okay? Jason’s aura was getting clearer, and Danny did his best to smile back. Sometimes his Obsession still snuck up on him. 

Forcing himself to relax, he grabbed his milkshake instead. It felt warm, which was odd until he realised his hands were icy cold. 

Not quite literally, but closer than he’d come in a while. 

Neither of the rogues seemed to have notice, Harley playing with her milkshake while she frowned at Waylon. 

“An’ you decided the best thing ta do was hit the gala first?” She asked dryly, her tone neatly conveying just what she thought of that idea. 

Waylon shrugged. 

“Not like I coulda swung an invite to get in nicely. Sounded like he had somethin’ real nasty planned, kid,” he added, shaking his head and leaning back in his seat. 

Jason frowned, giving Danny another soft kick on the ankle as he leaned forward. Unnecessarily, for sure, Danny totally had his shit under control now. 

“But no one said anything about why? I don’t think I’ve even met him,” Jason asked and yeah, that probably meant as Jason. Maybe even post Robin. 

Waylon shrugged again. 

“It’s fuckin’ Two Face. Maybe he ran outta matching targets and figured two lives had ta count?” He offered, though it looked like it was still bugging him too. 

Harley huffed and shook her head, blonde ponytails bouncing. 

“I’ll keep an ear out too.  There’s a couple people who’ll prefer talkin’ ta me over you, sugar,” she teased Waylon as he grunted, a tinkling laugh falling from her lips. 

Waylon snorted, but a reluctant smile curled his lips. 

“More likely to spill to ya,” he agreed in a low grumble, poking his straw around a mostly empty milkshake. 

Harley nodded brightly, clapping her hands. 

“Exactly! ‘Specially if they don’t want any of their own special lil secrets told,” she agreed with a truly wicked smile. Then she paused, a slight frown curling her brow. 

It was still a little weird to be able to see the moments where her brain revved up. Danny had to assume it was having been raised by Jazz; it was clearly easy for people to get lost in the bubbly exterior. 

Fingers drumming on the table now, something had clearly jogged her memory. 

“Might be somethin’ ta do with Black Mask too,” she said more quietly, gaze unusually serious as she caught Jason’s eyes, “he’s been quieter ‘n I like lately. Keepin’ ‘imself out of trouble.” 

Danny might just ask if Jason could get him a rolodex of the Gotham villains to match the server Danny had provided for the Zone. 

It did not help that they all had their own wild code names. He was used to dealing with people who had a lot of personality, sure, and theatrics. But ghosts usually just had the one name. 

Except apparently for Frighty, or Halloween as Danny would have to start calling him now. It’d take some getting used to. 

Jason noticed his desperately pleading puppy eyes and sighed. 

“Look, I’ll give you the rundown on everyone tonight. Black Mask is a whole ass problem. Crime boss for the False Face Society, really likes skinning peoples’ faces. Red Hood kicked him out of Crime Alley a couple years ago, he firmed his grip on the rest of Gotham, and him being quiet is never fucking good.” 

And as if that didn’t sound bad enough… 

“An’ he really doesn’t like Jason,” Waylon growled, shoulders tightening and straining his shirt. 

Something in Danny tensed again, and he forced himself to take a long, deep breath. Closed his eyes and took another. 

This was why he’d avoided the whole subject. Until now. 

He could taste Jason’s concern like a tang in the air as he spoke up. 

“There’s fuck all he can do while I’m in the Alley though. Unless something’s really changed he can’t challenge Red Hood,” he explained quietly, leaning in until their shoulders brushed. 

Harley heaved a dramatic sigh, raising a hand and waving to one of the servers. 

“Yeah, yeah, you jus’ take care of yaself, kid. Roman’s a pain in the ass an’ if ya let him kill ya again he’ll be intolerable,” she grumbled, the tone at odds with the cheery smile she gave the first server to glance over. “Another round!” 

“Anything different?” The server, a young man with shaggy blond hair asked. 

Danny considered it, since the menu was both extensive and interesting, but really? It’d complicate things, and he didn’t want to think about something else. 

Just the idea of some asshole gangster trying to kill Jason was bad enough. But he sucked in another deep breath and reminded himself that this was pretty much all speculative. 

Black Mask was quiet, not actively threatening, and Gotham had an army of vigilantes to keep an eye on him even before Harley and Waylon got involved. An army of vigilantes who all seemed to like Jason. 

Jason wasn’t worried. Danny wasn’t gonna go all protective mama bear on the guy just because rogues existed. 

The one thing he’d always promised himself was that even with a Protection Obsession, he was never gonna be as bad as Jazz at her clingiest. 

He loved his sister, she meant well, but he’d hated her constant fussing. Danny had actually died sure, but he’d come right back and she hadn’t noticed for months. 

Jason didn’t have a scratch on him. Or any reason to put up with a clingy almost-stranger, Danny reminded himself as he accepted his new milkshake, hiding a smile behind the glass. 

Hell, if Jason being Fright Knight meant he’d sense if Danny was in danger, maybe that could work both ways. That’d be worth asking Frostbite about, and they had to see him for Jason’s core checkup soon. 

Having survived one Clockwork encounter without a lecture, Danny wasn’t pushing his luck. 

And if it turned out that it wouldn’t be that easy… well, there were other ways Danny could know if Jason was hurt, and unless they had a way to change dimensions? No Gotham rogue could take Jason anywhere that Danny couldn’t find him. 

The feel of another halfa was still faint for now, barely noticeable unless Jason was in the same room, but it was already stronger. 

Or Danny was more used to looking for him. More used to the feel of his energy, the boiling rage of the pit tangled up in everything else that was Jason. 

Kinda a lot still angry, but tempered. Mixed in with that wonderful sense of humour, dry sarcasm and death jokes, and determination. 

Danny was pretty sure he could find Jason pretty much anywhere on Earth right now if he had to. And it would only get easier. 

With the question of Harvey Dent settled as much as it would be (and if a flip of a coin was all he needed, maybe as much as it could be), the conversation turned lighter. 

Harley and Waylon stayed off the topic of rogues, probably to minimise the need to keep filling Danny in. They also mostly avoided embarrassing baby Jason stories though. 

No, instead they filled Danny and Jason in on what they’d been up to down on Coney Island. 

Danny had never expected to enjoy another circus story again, let alone an actual freakshow, but somehow? Hearing Harley tell it, he almost wanted to drop by. 

Not see the damn show. Nope. Hard pass. 

But hanging out with the performers, Harley’s tenants? That sounded like fun. They were just ordinary people, if a bit to the left. 

Roller derby sounded great, even if Danny wouldn’t play it with humans. In the Ghost Zone though? They could probably make a rink. And baseball bats. 

Waylon’s stories were way more domestic too; there was just something about a 7’ crocodile man telling you about his efforts to finally hold the skittish little grey kitten upstairs. 

It was just… well. Like hanging out with Kitty and Johnny, or Wulf. Maybe the only people who could understand what it was like to be a vigilante were the rogues who fit the other half of the mold. 

They all lived lives skewed away from the normal, didn’t fit in. The more they talked and shared stories, the more Danny settled. Relaxed. 

Which was when the last piece finally fell into place. He knew what he wanted to ask Waylon now. 

** 

Still on edge from the night before, Constantine wasn’t exactly thrilled to bits to be hearing from the Big Bat again so soon. 

Honestly, why couldn’t he have a nice, normal emergency? Just the world ending, some arch demon jumping for the throne of Hell, a wayward amateur magician or cursed artefact? 

Why did it always have to be Amity fuckin’ Park? 

Still, after they’d given the whole League the rundown, John was planning on washing his hands of the whole affair. They’d be up to date, they’d have his recommendation (leave well enough alone), and whatever they did after that? 

That could be Zatanna’s problem. Or Shazam’s. Which didn’t really matter. 

So of course there was just one more thing that Batman wanted from him first. 

“A health check on yer revenant?” He asked skeptically, arms folded as he scowled at an annoyingly refreshed and rejuvenated looking Batman. 

Who just nodded patiently like he hadn’t said anything crazy. 

“Nothing strenuous. Just a check in, and then we move on to the meeting,” he agreed blandly, watching John from behind the cut outs. 

Constantine pinched the bridge of his nose and drew in a heavy breath. Let it out. Decided not to think about all of the things that could go wrong tangling with a fuckin’ revenant. 

Bats was still here, hale and healthy, so the kid was clearly used to extreme provocation. How bad could John’s company be? 

Way, way worse the little honest part of him supplied, but… 

Well. The worst of it all was, no matter how damn annoying the man was, how fucking insistent on poking into shit that’d get ‘em all killed? 

Constantine liked him. 

Just a bit. The tiniest, littlest bit, that he firmly ground under his heel at every opportunity, and especially when that poking was getting close to end-of-the-world levels. 

It was the only reason the League had his number at all, because John Constantine sure as shit was not a hero. He liked the world not ending, yeah, but he coulda had Zatanna call him for those. 

He just. Had maybe the very smallest soft spot for how earnest the Big Three all were, deep down. Wonder Woman especially, there was a lady who’d been in the game longer than John himself, and yet it never fuckin’ touched her. 

They still looked at the world, at an old shit like John Constantine, and saw something worth saving. 

So even when he was tired, stressed, and wondering just how deep he should dare to probe to check the Bat’s explorations in Amity Park hadn’t garnered the wrong kind of attentions… 

He huffed another reluctant sigh. It did not help knowing that even if he refused, the Bat would just argue him down until John gave in, or the meeting started. 

It was three hours before the meeting was due to start. 

Constantine would rather jump straight through the damn Fenton portal. 

“Fine,” he growled, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his trench coat. If the revenant got cranky, he could always hide behind the big Bat. 

The bastard didn’t even bother thanking him, just nodded like he’d expected John to agree all along, and made for the exit. 

Were they fuckin’ going out in full costume? In the middle of the day? 

Well heavens forbid Bruce Goddamn Wayne do anything subtly. 

** 

Tim’s afternoon was going great. Thanks to Tucker, he’d had a full and hearty brunch, which made Alfred happy. 

Tim wasn’t much of a gourmet himself, probably as a result of having to survive on what he could find in the house between his parents’ visits. So long as it went down his throat and kept him alive, he was happy. 

He knew Alfred’s cooking was great, it always tasted fantastic, he just… didn’t get excited about food. 

Tucker though? Tucker gushed enthusiastically over every bite, moaning loudly as he dug into pancakes, sausages, bacon, and even black pudding. 

He enjoyed his food almost as much as Wally, and Tim found himself savouring his own a little more as he watched. Usually he’d swallow half of it whole, just to get back to work. 

But he didn’t have a new case today. Sure, there was still work to do on Amity Park (and rewriting all of the Justice League reporting protocols, ugh). 

But he had Tucker here to help, and really, today could be about getting to know the guy. He’d more than learned his lesson from the last few days. 

It turned out that food tasted a whole lot better if he actually stopped to chew it. 

They’d talked while they ate too, Tucker often with his mouth full like he just couldn’t stop and wait to swallow. 

It was kinda adorable. 

Tim had shared some stories about the missions he’d been on with Young Justice, Tucker had told him more about Technus. There may have been a secret side trip to Amity Park in the works so Tim could meet him. 

And introduce Cassie to Pandora. 

There may also have been a secret side trip to the Ghost Zone being planned too. That one was gonna have to be extra-double-top-secret though, since Constantine put a bug in B’s ass about the Infinite Realms. 

But honestly, how bad could it be if three completely untrained teenagers could just hop in and out on a whim? 

Sure, there were risks. Some of the bigger, scarier ghosts that Tucker told him about. And just the air of the realms itself, which wasn’t great for humans in the long term. 

That, Tim was a little less sure about. Tucker could say it’d never done him any harm all he liked, but he was kinda half dead now. Dead enough for super powers. 

Not that Tim wanted super powers. It’s not like he’d ever needed them to keep up with his super friends. He didn’t need them, not even to interface his brain with his computer… 

Nope. 

But that was also how they got around to how Tucker would be getting home, because Tim finally twigged. 

“Wait… when you say Danny flew you here, you didn’t actually mean what you said about the plane, did you?” He asked cautiously when they’d migrated back to the bat cave (with a plate of cookies and juice. Alfred was totally taking advantage of a chance to feed Tim). 

Tucker grinned sheepishly and shrugged. 

“Well, I didn’t know Danny was gonna just go off like that right away. But yeah, he just came and grabbed me and we flew through the Ghost Zone.” 

He seemed to think Tim might be upset with him, but honestly? This was great news. They might be able to wrangle a little extra time. 

“So… needing to go home today was because of Danny?” He asked hopefully. 

Tucker caught on at once, like the genius he was, tracking Tim’s grin and beginning to smile in return. 

“Well, technically I do also have classes on Monday, but so long as I’m back tonight I can fake it if you have another way to get me home, like… say, a bat plane?” He asked innocently, head cocked to one side. 

Tim snatched up his phone, sending a quick text. Of course, there was always the chance Connor wouldn’t answer. Or that he’d be busy. Or that he’d have school. 

As if he wouldn’t have dropped pretty much anything when Tim called him. God Tim loved his boyfriend. 

“I was actually thinking of something a little more discrete than the bat plane… especially since you have some experience being carried.” 

————————

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Next chapter:

#dp x dc #danny fenton dead and loving it #dc x dp #dead on main ship #danny x jason #chapter 14 #a good excuse to be a bad influence #it’s finally heeeeere #despite the world’s best efforts #the musical interlude

[21ducky]

HELLLLO THEREEE

Hihihihiih I'm 21Ducky, you can just call me Duck or Ducky tho.

Trying my hand at an intro post at 12:16 in the morning, wish me luck lol

I am an enjoyer of MANY things INCLUUUUUDING; Transformers :D Undertale and its AUs Drawing (Ha, you fools, you thought I was only talking about Fandoms!) Doing a silly Flowey voice (Trust me, it's fun :D) Talking to my friendos @thatoneguyfromtheantivoid @intothevoid125 @nullneo @ecofmaster @lostfollower (and @kc-form-the-stars we don't interact often, but she's really cool :D) My friendos in general B] and a LOT of other things lol

I am a person 🤯 (wowzers, who knew?)

My pronouns are She/her, but you can use whatever :D I'm also a minor! (If the bored child thing wasn't a give away)

Anyway, you can ask me to draw things if you're willing to wait 80 years. You can also just ask me for headcanons or thoughts on shows, fandoms, etc. I'm just some bored child doing random things on the internet to satisfy their trash attention span lol Anywho, if you can't tell from this intro post, I'm a big ol' nerdy weirdo :D

Interact at your own risk >:]

(/j)

#It's me :DDD #Hihihihhihihuuhubfudjbuihufdvib #Welcome #I'm surviving purely off of iced tea #chaos #spite #and the blood of my enemies :D #Oh yeah and fandoms but that comes after the blood of my enemies ngl #Anywho #have fun and welcome to CHAOS >:D #I finally did an intro post holy snickers :0

[whimsy-floof]

Holy shit my first real art post in literal years and it's a motherfuckin' crossover piece! FUCK YEAH!

Does this mean my burnout is finally gone? ...........eh, kinda.

OKAY! So A lot has been going on over the last....... SEVERAL years???

I won't go into it too much here, cuz I wanna actually talk about what I'm posting here.

So, Helluva Boss is a show I've been a fan of since episode 1.

A friend of mine and I have enjoyed nerding out about it every time a new episode drops, and Stolas is one of our favorite characters from the show.

Also, I've recently picked up a hyperfixation on the Game Grumps, and especially Dan Avidan, AKA Danny Sexbang.

I particularly really enjoy his music, from his comedy work in Ninja Sex Party and Starbomb to his more serious stuff in Skyhill and Shadow Academy to his collab cover almbums with the Super Guitar Brothers.

ANYWAY, so one day my friendo and I were flinging our obsessive nerdings at each other, and they were like "Imagine Danny Sexbang, but wearing Stolas' outfit."

And I was like, "Hmmm yes, but also consider.... Stolas... in Danny Sexbang's outfit?"

And then inspiration struck, and I had to make it real. SO I DID!

Here he is in all his glory! Stolas Sexbang!

The burnout I've been suffering for the last few years has been AWFUL, and it's so nice to finally be able to sit and do art without the consistent "UUUUGH" feeling that came with the burnout.

Does this mean I'll be posting more? No promises.

This just was a nice little burst of inspiration that I am glad to have been able to follow through on.

Guys, let me tell you it feels SO GOOD to finally have been able to do something like this again. I've been doing like random sketches here and there over the last few years, but nothing post worthy.

This was the first actual project I've been able to get myself to do, and it felt so good.

For a long time, I was feeling like I was never going to recover from this burnout, and I was about ready to give up hoping for it.

But this... Gave me so much relief. You have no idea.

All this to say I can't say I've fully recovered from my burnout, but I can at least say that I've finally started to.

#posts by me #helluva boss #stolas #ninja sex party #danny sexbang #dan avidan #game grumps

[notcapableofbeingtheguy]

your post about walter jr supporting his parents and always showing so much kindness and maturity to them is literally the ONLY post that matters. that child deserved so so so much better and i love to see him acknowledged

Thank you friendo while I have you here can we also talk about how Walt destroys his life because of a shitty intersection of toxic masculinity + ableism (because what he’s trying to avoid, deep down, is that image of his dying father— sick. weak. feminized to Walt in his frailness) and this attitude also affects how he treats Flynn???

Look how Flynn is introduced in the pilot script:

His parents “treat him as if he were able-bodied, which is how he wants it.” It’s true— and at first glance, this is a good thing. Flynn doesn’t want to be babied, he doesn’t want to be offered help at every turn in situations where he knows he can be independent. His parents provide him with a feeling of normalcy, by not over-emphasizing or dramatizing his cerebral palsy. Sometimes he will need help or accommodation, and they provide it for him, but often he won’t, and they won’t mention it. This is the rhythm they have all found, and Flynn likes it that way.

But this approach is deeply flawed. Rather than normalizing Flynn’s disability (which I think is the surface level intention), it erases it, ignores it, attempts to hide it from view and discussion. Which is unsurprisingly pretty similar to how Walt relates to his cancer + treatment. He wants to do everything alone— he banishes Skyler from his chemo sessions, and he hides himself away when he’s having chemo side effects, often locking himself in the bathroom. Walt shapes his life around his cancer in some ways (that whole cooking meth thing), but at the same time, he works hard to hide his illness, ashamed of that feminizing weakness he thinks it gives him.

And what effect does this attitude have on Flynn? Walt’s shame around illness, weakness, and disability— his idea that it’s okay to be sick or disabled, as long as you don’t talk about it? Of course, it makes Flynn feel his father is ashamed of him. And it instills that same reflexive draw towards toxic masculinity in him (think about how he idolizes Hank!).

Consider the scene where Walt is teaching Flynn how to drive (which I recently saw on my rewatch). Where Flynn wants to drive with two feet, and Walt insists he use just one, because he has to get it “right.” He has to be able to drive the same as everyone else, no matter how unintuitive that may be to his body. This conversation obviously makes Flynn feel embarrassed and ashamed. And when Flynn tries to drive the “right” way? He crashes.

This scene hits so hard for me because it’s a very clear case where the method of driving that would work best for Flynn is so clearly viable— there’s really no reason not to let him drive in the way that’s most intuitive and comfortable for him. If Walt were truly normalizing Flynn’s disability, he would let him drive that way with no comment. But that was never Walt’s real attitude towards Flynn’s cerebral palsy. Walt is treating him like he’s able bodied— he’s trying to erase Flynn’s disability. And when that attitude hits the road, it literally crashes. With the added bonus of making Flynn feel like it’s his fault for not having a body that works the “right” way.

Idk exactly where I’m going with this. Mostly wanted to say Justice For Flynn!!! And remark on what an interesting character he is. I think he’s super neglected in fandom discourse— I’m thinking a lot rn (if you couldn’t tell haha) about how he serves as a foil for Walt in terms of Walt’s attitudes about gender and bodies and power and all that jazz. As a (mostly) able-bodied person myself I would love to hear more on this topic from any disabled folks who wanted to speak on it!

#breaking bad #brba rewatch #Flynn white #I’ve decided to start calling him Flynn if you didn’t notice haha #gotta respect chosen names ya know? #i want to think more about what Flynn says in Gray Matter about this #he says something like you’re afraid of a little cancer?? after all I’ve been through?? #something something Walt’s attitudes about his cancer reveal how to Flynn his true attitudes about his son’s disability #anyways everybody keep up the Flynn discourse! #asks #brba meta #flynn rights rewatch

[chaoticliterarystudying]

📮 what i learnt in first semester of my master's degree in english literature 📮

friendo, here is what you need to remember for the upcoming months! (also this is applicable to literally any degree you're doing, ive just written it down recently)

put in work. put a lot of effort from your side and it'll be worth it. it'll show, I promise

ask for feedback!!!! ASK FOR FEEDBACK!! it's OK if the profs tear you part (they generally won't!) but keep asking: what could I have done better?

do more grunt work in the beginning: summaries, about the authors, about the eras — it'll save you a lot of time

write practice or mock tests and study using previous year question papers too. write the answers down.

buy/borrow/print all the books you need. ALL OF THEM!!

doing is the most difficult part. the act of actually studying and reading and writing is the most difficult part

but it'll also be the most fun part!

there are 2 kinds of uncomfortable: painful and non-painful. always choose the non-painful uncomfortable option!

when studying historical background, have some examples from the books of that Era as "proof"

doing my best = working towards retaining whatever you need to for how much ever long you need to (I.e for the exam) (didi gave me this definition and im so relieved)

it's not smart work OR hard work, it's smart work AND hard work

these are also things I struggled with. I struggled to define what im having trouble doing (point 6), what is "doing my best" (point 10), if all my studying/reading of books was me being a dumbass who doesn't know smart work (points 1 and 11)

I've literally copy-posted these from my notes because I thought this might help someone out? if nothing, here's my contribution to the studyblr lol

#studying #studyblr #study tips #studying tips #study advice #post grad study tips #studyspo #studyspiration #study inspiration #study inspo #indian studyblr #postgradblr #chaotic academia #master's degree #master's in english #desi studyblr #study motivation #re: studying with emotions #re: thoughts and thoughts and thoughts

[burning-fcols]

✩ ˙ ˖ ᴘᴇʀᴍᴀɴᴇɴᴛ ɪɴʙᴏx ᴄᴀʟʟ ˖ ˙ ✩

(( Hiya, friendos! :3 — By liking this post, you are showing your Interest in interactions ( be it now or later, there is no rush and No Time Limit ) and saying it is Totally Okay to potentially—

✧ — send thread starters ✧ — send memes ✧ — slide into DMs to plot/say hi ✧ — basically this is permission to Vibe because a bitch be Anxious™ lol

(( Side Note: If I follow you, then consider that me liking an Inbox Call in spirit because I am Always up for interactions with my Mutuals. Fair Warning: Life can be A Lot, and that means things sometimes move slowly on my end. ))

#permanent call #burning-fcols #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ɪ’ᴍ ᴀᴅᴅɪᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇꜱꜱ; ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴏᴛᴇʟ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ᴀᴛʟᴀɴᴛɪꜱ ❞ ¦ 「 OOC 」

[beefrobeefcal]

I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who liked, commented and reached out to me over the post I made last week. You know who you are and if you don't, then I need to do better at my gratitude.

Every time I think this life is throwing far too many curveballs at my sport-illiterate ass, this community reminds me that it’s okay to sit back and take a breath.

I found out a family member is getting sicker and they already have a myriad of other health complications that just make this a hard pill to swallow. That combined with the absolute shit show that my work has been, Norbert [my depression goblin], has being tearing up the dance floor as I can only sit and watch him have the time of his life.

But as my friend says: THE HORRORS CONTINUE BUT SO DO THE LITTLE TREATS. You, my lovely friendos, are those treats.

Yours in sin for evermore,

Beefro👌🥩💜

#beefro is blessed #when life gives you lemons #thank you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #🥩

[moeroy]

intro post

hey yalls! its moeroy :D you may know me as:

goobab on discord, tiktok, and ao3

the owner of @the-dynamoe on your favorite hellsite

here are some things to know about me:

i use he/him pronouns

i am a MINOR!!! (uncomfortable sharing my exact age unless you're a friendo)

dni if you are proship or any of its variants, as well as if youre a map/pedo or zoophile

please reblog if you like one of my posts :D

i'm probably mostly gonna use this account just for reblogs and posting my writing from ao3. you should check that out btw!!

my current interests are:

papa louie/flipline

object shows

thats pretty much it, and thats how i expect it to be for a very long time :3

you can use the ask box for:

suggesting fic ideas (i may say no!!! please keep that in mind)

asking meta questions about running the dynamoe rp acc

asking for headcanons for papa louie/object show characters (although i havent watched every object show so be aware that i might ignore your ask if im unfamiliar with a character!!)

baii :3

#intro post #flipline #osc

[cali-kabi]

Chapter 3: Seeking Magical Powers✨🔥🌊

~>PREVIOUS CHAPTER✨ ~ <NEXT PAGE 💫

~💫🍄Alsjrkldkd yay I’m finally gonna start posting the pages with Chapter 3, finished finalized the editing with the writing a little while back I’m so excited to show this chapter to y’all this one has been my favorite to work on so far <3💕🍬this chapter is about Sword and Blade going to the elemental temples with some friendos to gain some magical powers :D🌊🔥this chapter is also longer than chapter 1 and the writing of chapter 4 is halfway done idk how I got the motivation on Halloween night hehe xD hope y’all like this and thanks to those who patiently wait and read my silly au ^^💕💜🎨(for this chapter idk what art style I’m gonna do I’m just gonna try out some and see what happen :0im not confident with mine for reasons) —for this past year idk why I have been having such low self-esteem with myself & my art I keep on criticizing myself, having meltdowns about why my art is so bad, saying to myself I will never get better at art or writing, also me being such a forgotten person sorry for suddenly venting like that I just need to get it off my chest I highly doubt anyone will read this part or talk to me about it no one does sorry for venting again idk I have such negative thoughts like this from time to time ;0;

#kirby #kirby kirby kirby #meta knight #my art #sydney’s art #galacta knight #kirby right back at ya #tiff kirby #sword knight #blade knight #axe knight #magolor #kirbys return to dreamland #taranza #yep those stars are crystals stars from Paper Mario i love throwing in references onto my art xD #In Kirby clash their called star fragments I love both names so I’ll call them both names <3 Star Fragment and crystal stars :) #kirby au

[manogirl]

My favorite friendships in BL, 2023

I'm not even going to do a post for my favorite shows or my favorite ships because honestly they're the same as everyone else's. And maybe this list will be the same too, but I have really come to adore when a BL puts a good friendship in front of me along with the love story.

Tinn and Tiwson, My School President. Surely everyone who watched MSP has these buddies on their list. Tiwson is the solid wingman every romantic hero needs. And when Tiwson says to Gun, "You think this loser could have gotten you without me?" you know he's right. Even though Tiwson's brain clearly goes blank whenever Por is around, he's Tinn's braincell when needed.

Uea and Jade, Bed Friend and Middleman's Love. I feel like Jade is an acquired taste but once you love him and he loves you, he will be the bestest friend you ever have, and in return, you'll do anything for the guy. I have been reevaluating my feelings about Bed Friend as I've rewatched it a million billion times (rough estimate) and part of why I love it is how lovely the connection Uea and Jade have is.

Ae Ri, Joon Pyo, and Ji Hyun, The Eighth Sense. A unique show in that it has some of the worst friends ever (Eun Ji and Tae Hyung, WOOOOOOF), and some of the best. I love that Ae Ri is a nosy busybody who thinks Ji Hyun is hopelessly country and kind of rude about it, but who also makes no bones about loving him and wanting the best for him. Joon Pyo eats a lot and as far as I can tell is happy to share his food. And he clearly wants the best for Ji Hyun. Also he uncomplainingly left the room so Ji Hyun could make out with his new boyfriend. Two thumbs up, friendos.

Ai Di and Zong Yi, Kiseki: Dear to Me. Big ol' MSP energy here; anyone who watched this SURELY loved how the friendship between these two unfolded and continued in and out of prison. Zong Yi is a giant baby man (in the BEST way possible) and Ai Di is a giant baby man in an entirely different way (in the other BEST way possible) and the fact that they're besties is like, perfect. You just know Chen Yi and Ze Rui sometimes have to commiserate over the dumb shit their babies do.

The gaming gang in My Dear Gangster Oppa. Tom is silly, Muffin is sillier, and Pai is a goddamn badass who keeps everyone in line. Every time Pai said, "Muffin" I loved her more. And by her I mean Pai, not Muffin. Muffin was too silly for words. But listen, all with good hearts and who clearly love Guy and so yeah, I liked it. Also I enjoy the uncomplicated presentation of the fact that girls and boys both like games, and girls and boys are both good at games. Yes, and yes.

#thai bl #korean bl #taiwanese bl #my dear gangster oppa #kiseki: dear to me #the eighth sense #my school president #bed friend the series #middleman's love

[probablyhuntersmom]

A Look at Hunter's Complex PTSD (Part 1)

Alrighty, here is the first part of excerpts about Complex PTSD that I have compiled from a beautiful, poignant and funny memoir, “What My Bones Know” by Stephanie Foo, which I will be linking to Hunter’s character arc with as much detail and as many screencaps as possible.

Other sources of info in these analyses are wise words from my seasoned internship supervisor (in total, about 170 supervision hours clocked in with her) during my past training before I got licensed to practice, my own lived experience with Complex PTSD, and loosely drawing anything relevant from almost 3 years’ experience with my own clients’ cases so far. 

Special thanks goes to my friendo @wordsdarkerthantheirwiings (do check out her mental health blog!) for recommending this great book to me ^_^

Trigger warnings have been tagged in this post, and there will be multiple mentions of trauma and abuse in this series that I’m putting together.

I will be sharing parts of the book by following the order of the chapters, while the Hunter scenes might occasionally jump here and there and not be as chronological in order.

I’ll start with the author’s first overview of how PTSD works:

Someone with PTSD has a brain which tends to flag things on a scale of life-or-death. Their brain will shoot out what it believes to be the appropriate emotional response to perceived danger.

The above pic is so important. It may not be “reasonable” or “rational” as what we know those two words to mean on a normal day, but dare I say that it is its own reasoning and rationale. It’s a condition whereby the brain forms powerful associations after a life-or-death experience (or many such experiences), with the goal of protecting us but which can be debilitating after the real danger has passed. You could say it’s a state of being overprepared, almost constantly.

Related to the above statement, I’ll show one of the more light-hearted moments from Hollow Mind that happened before the true horrors really showed themselves in the second half of that episode:

It’s a more comical moment here, but the “Boo!” sound from the walkie talkie triggered a very believable response from Hunter. He raises his hands automatically to shield himself, in case he gets attacked. It’s not the exact pose as when he flinches when Belos makes physical contact with him (my bet is that if Hunter raised his arms high like this in front of Belos, he may have been punished or chastised for not standing stoic, strong and portraying “proper” Golden Guard strength) but is kind of along the same lines.

However, Hunter has undergone very strict military training, requiring him to be prepared for new scenarios including strange foreign noises or stimuli, which I would say has been both a risk factor and protective factor in his life. This will be covered in greater detail in future analyses. Therapists use the terms "risk factors" and "protective factors" when looking at what may worsen or improve our clients' conditions.

Related to above, Titan knows how many times Hunter has been struck and threatened like this, traumatized perhaps hundreds of times over the course of years:

Importantly, I believe he has gone through both Big T (e.g. a single life-changing event like a car accident) and Little T trauma (many ‘smaller’ instances, like getting yelled at four times a week over a duration of years), since this can certainly be the case for some people. In later parts of this exploration, I will cite examples of the various Big T and Little T traumas Hunter has experienced.

Like what happened with the book author, making mistakes is especially dangerous in Hunter’s case because Belos heavily implies that he will disown him or get rid of him if he slips up enough.

Dozens of people have also let him down and have been bystanders:

Is the world a threat to him? Well, there are very few places where he would feel safe. Hell, I bet he’s even safer while away on missions than when he is in his own room. But he always had to return home to the castle, or else. He has been manipulated into placing the most trust in the one person who cares the least for him.

In the following section, the author highlights how she would see flashes of her abusive father in other people, even years after her father left the picture:

For Hunter, being physically distant from Belos didn't erase his triggers. Him preparing for a possible strike from Darius in Any Sport in a Storm:

and the mirror scene in Thanks to Them, where he panics after seeing a flash of Belos as he is looking at his own long hair:

are relevant examples of him feeling as if his abuser is right there, when Belos isn’t actually present.

I have a few of my own examples, the first of which is how I had a couple of peers in classes who had bullying tendencies: and they would have crooked smiles and narrowed eyes that are eerily similar to my own parents’ expressions whenever I had traumatizing moments with my parents. Whenever these people had those evil-looking grins, I would either feel intense fear and/or rage.

Plus on two different occasions, I thought an abusive ex-housemate of mine that I lived with for 2 years was in the same room..many months after I got away from her.

The first incident was seeing someone who looked almost exactly like her (her beanie hat, black coat and black boots were the exact same shades and shapes), just a different hair colour and slightly diff eye shape, in a bookstore. Till today I still have no idea why this other girl stopped whatever she did just to stare at me with a sullen expression across the store space for maybe half a minute. I remember freezing and hiding behind the two friends I was with, whispering to them “I feel like that could be her…”, in case that girl turned out to be really her, because I felt she was still not done with criticizing my mistakes from our shared group project and saying awful things to me several months before that, even though I already blocked her across all platforms in 2015 and made a callout post here on Tumblr without naming her.

The second incident was a year after, when I was at the office and scrolled past a photo of Kristen Stewart (of all people..my ex-housemate looks a lot like her, especially the mouth) on my laptop, and for a solid minute I very strongly smelled this ex-friend’s perfume. I remember darting around wildly because I was beginning to believe she had followed me all the way there to sneak up on me, in the office that had doors locked with security codes. I felt she was about to turn a nearby blind corner and come for me. But the scent faded away after a minute, and I was left there in shock that my broken brain reenacted a scenario involving her presence and her perfume. Fascinating, honestly. Luckily Kristen Stewart pics no longer scare me like that.

So yeah, the Hunter mirror scene…I felt that spooky stuff. Eerie, right? PTSD, what more Complex PTSD, can rewire your brain and it does try its best to protect you, but it can be rather wonky sometimes. Children who are abused in a manner that results in Complex PTSD are hyper-alert to even the smallest twinges in facial expressions.

To continue:

Our poor boy might have been jumpy and guarded in a number of other scenarios, potentially misinterpreting or simply not knowing what was going to happen, therefore his whole body was geared up for a fight-or-flight response:

Thank goodness he had Flapjack in those months, along with the friends he would meet, and later Camila as well.

Like the author, Hunter definitely does not have one foundational trauma. Having been isolated by Belos, he was alone and defenseless in that throne room many many times. He has emerged with so many visible scars on his body and having to create his own identity on his own terms. At this rate, exposure therapy would not be enough as a treatment plan for him. His web of relationships and interactions with people and the world need a major reframing, for his state of being and view of self to be positive and leading to peace and self-acceptance. In fact, this reframing has already been unfolding gradually, with twists and turns along the way:

And losing Flapjack recently and feeling the effects of moral injury, may be the ultimate test for him as to where to place his trust. One of those places has to be in himself in order to advance forward.

The book is about how the author found hope in having to live with Complex PTSD for the rest of her life, and her early years of investigating what happened to her seemed bleak. However, she found relevant people to contact and interview over the years, to uncover new hopeful sources of info about the condition, which will be in my later analyses.

Is Hunter a lost cause (quoting Belos’s awful words from Thanks to Them..)? I wouldn’t say so! I obviously hope he’ll be alright in the remaining two specials…

Stay tuned for Part 2 next weekend.

#toh hunter #golden guard #toh analysis #the owl house #abuse mention #trauma mention #long post #complex ptsd #cptsd #hunter's cptsd #loz writes a meta