#an asshole either because I’m just a fan at the end of the day who respects his work I guess

[love-quinn]

—PEACE OF MIND

summary — when carmen finds out that you're putting yourself in danger to come in to your waitressing job at the bear, he admittedly gets pissed. he's not super proud of his reaction, but the two of you manage to work something out to ease his worries.

warnings — swearing, mentions of customers being assholes, the implication that if reader isn't being fed at the restaurant she doesn't eat due to money reasons, very brief mentions/implications of the possibility of reader being attacked at night

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!waitress reader, not established relationship

pronouns — she/her, reader is HEAVILY implied to be female, also there's technically no pronouns in this one but i consider this to be the same waitress reader as my last one which does have pronouns

word count — 1.9k

note — this can 10000% be read as a standalone but i do have another carmy x waitress fic here that i think takes place kinda in the same universe if you wanna check that one out?? i hope u enjoy <333

If you were somebody who wasn’t a fan of the cold, then Chicago wasn’t the city for you. It’s one of your least favourite parts of living in Illinois, having to wear four layers to bed if you don't want to freeze in your sleep. Your apartment doesn’t have proper heating because proper heating is for rich people, apparently. You barely make enough to afford rent as it is. 

You’re doing fine. You make rent and utilities, you eat lunch and dinner at the restaurant most days. You’re not swimming in gold coins by no means, but you’re fine. That’s the reason you show up early to every single shift, if you’re being honest, you’re guaranteed at least a sandwich. 

The fact that it makes you look like a dedicated employee doesn’t hurt either.

Even when you have to trek from the train platform after getting off the L. You’re not the first person punching in the code to the service entrance that afternoon, but the kitchen is free of yelling. Sydney’s at the end of the line, it’s her shift for Family, and she flashes you a smile as you shove your duffel into your locker.

It’s not raining outside but the air is so cold and damp outside, and you dab your face with a towel. The kitchen is so much warmer than outside that for a moment it’s uncomfortable. Sydney watches you out of the corner of her eye as she sautes a collection of vegetables. “Are you alright? Is it wet out there?”

You shake your head, grabbing your apron and using the mirror you hung up on the back of your door to fix your appearance. “Just cold, sorry. I’ll be fine. You get in okay?”

Sydney nods, holding out a spoon for you, hand cupped to prevent anything from landing on the floor. You don’t question it, opening your mouth and accepting the sauce while trying to minimise the contact between your mouth and the spoon as much as possible. “Fuck, that’s good. Is there sesame oil in there?”

You didn’t know a whole lot about food if you were honest, there’s a reason that you’re not a member of the kitchen staff. But Sydney’s been teaching you slowly but surely how to recognise different flavours, which ones go best together, which ones don’t.

Her eyes light up. “Yes! You like it?”

You shut your locker, moving to stand right behind her. Your chin lands on her shoulder, watching the way she rotates her medley of ingredients. You and Sydney have started becoming actual friends rather than just work friends, the two of you went out to dinner last Sunday, miraculously neither of you had to work. “Love it, need any help?”

“No, you’re all good. Go find Richie, I’m sure he needs help with whatever shit he’s doing.”

You leave her alone with a squeeze on the elbow, heading out into the dining room to find Richie. Richie isn’t out there but you do find Carmen pulling the chairs off the tables. You don’t bother talking, you and Carmen both appreciate the quiet in a workplace as loud as the restaurant. The second you put the first chair down Carmen is flinching. “You’re early,” he says, trying not to show his irritation.

He’d left the kitchen to feel productive while being alone, but he doesn’t want to yell at you. You deal with that enough. Yelling in the kitchen is natural, it’s fucking loud in there. If he doesn’t yell, he doesn’t get heard. People aren’t moving fast enough, people aren’t using proper technique, they’re running out of ingredients, things are being moved. If Carmen didn’t yell in the kitchen it would probably burn down somehow.

You deal with all that and you have to keep a smile on your face. You get yelled at for mistakes that other people make, and you never yell back. You take it all and yeah, sometimes you need to step out into the kitchen with tears in your eyes, but you cop it all and you go back out there.

You don’t need Carmy yelling at you as well.

You shrug casually, smoothing the tablecloth. “I am a slave to the public transit system.” It’s less embarrassing than admitting you’re trying to save money by eating at work whenever you can. 

Carmen stops at that. He doesn’t know why that’s surprising to him. He’s always here before you and he’s always here after you leave. He assumed he’d never seen your car in the parking lot because of that, but apparently, it’s because you don’t have one. “You took the train here?”

It’s early afternoon and people are turning their headlights on already. The closest train station is a fair walk away and it’s freezing out there. 

You nod, not taking much notice of the change in tone. “Yeah, I usually do.”

Carmen’s abandoned the table he’s dressing to turn around and look at you. It’s almost completely dark outside, it’s the middle of winter. “You walk to work?”

You look up at him. “Yeah, Carm.” You’re really hoping he’ll drop it, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on the way you avoid looking at him. 

“That’s so fucking dumb,” he doesn’t mean to snap, but the mood in the room is frozen now. “It’s like two degrees out there, why the fuck would you do that?” You regret coming out to help him. Usually, this stuff is already done by the time you show up to work, early as usual. 

You put down the last chair at the table you’re working on and brush off your apron. “It’s not like I have any other choice, Carmen,” you’re trying to keep your voice even. The dining room is empty, it’s still, and it feels much more awkward than having the conversation anywhere else would’ve felt. “I don’t really have many other options.” 

You look around the dining room and decide that leaving Carmen to finish setup isn’t an awful fate. 

“Yes, you do!” He doesn’t drop it. His fists are clenched at his side to stop him from flinging his arms up in frustration. “You have so many other options! Why did you pick the fucking stupid one?” You can handle being yelled at. It’s a part of the job. It happens to you every single day without fail. You can handle it.

That doesn’t mean that you have to take it from Carmen, though.

“Stop it,” you don’t raise your voice at him, but you’re not quiet either.

“I just don’t fucking get it,” he huffs. Once he’s started he can’t make himself stop. 

You sigh, loudly. “Yeah, I’m not asking you to, Carmen. Okay, but don’t treat me like garbage because I can’t afford a car.”

That’s the final straw in the conversation with him, and you turn to go back into the kitchen. Maybe Richie will be playing Angry Birds on his phone in the office and he’ll let you watch. Carmen’s frown deepens. “What the fuck are you talking about? Who gives a shit that you can’t afford a car?” He dodges the table he was working on and rushes to follow you. He’s a lot less graceful than you always are with it and that’s without the tray of drinks. “Do you see that shit out there?” He stands in front of you now, pointing a heavy, tattooed arm out at the front window. “It’s fucking Chicago. You can’t be walking here in twenty fucking degrees, honey! Do you not get that? Look at you! If someone pulls a knife on you out there what the fuck are you gonna do?”

You’re frozen in front of him now. He’s throwing so much at you that you don’t know what to say. 

He’s going back to setting up now, but as he turns he blows out a breath. “Get that through your fucking head, yeah?”

That’s the part that frustrates you the most. He does this all the time, he presents you with ten different problems and no solutions. You don’t need Carmen to tell you how to live your life when you’re struggling as it is. “How else do you want me to get to work? It’s either that or you find a new fucking waitress, okay? So can we let it go? What the fuck do you want me to do about it, Carmen? ”

Carmen doesn’t want to let it go. You take the train in the fucking pouring rain and walk every night only to be yelled at by a bunch of assholes over steak. 

“I want you to not walk through Chicago in the middle of the night!” He’s exasperated. “Yesterday you left after eleven, do you know how fucking dangerous that is? Fucking… Fuck?” It comes out as a question. “Why the fuck have you been leaving me here at night to go walk home alone? What the fuck do you think I’m here for?”

You’re getting upset by the yelling, and now that he’s said everything he needs to say he can see that he’s making you visibly panicked. “I don’t know what you want from me!” You let out finally, words exhaling from your chest with force. “Just tell me what you want or stop fucking yelling at me!”

He says your name quietly, letting out a frustrated huff. “Fucking- Okay. Okay.” He runs a hand through his hair and has to bend at the waist, leaning on the table you just fixed up, head buried in his arms. He takes a quick three second breather, trying to force down the ugly bubble of anger that’s rising familiarly to the surface, ready to spill out of his mouth. “If we are at the restaurant together and it’s the middle of the night, and I have a car…” he pauses, trying to give you time to follow along after previously overwhelming you. “... and you don’t.” You blink over at him. “Why the fuck would you not ask me to drive you home?”

“Because you’re my boss?” The answer comes easily, and it almost startles him how quickly you respond. “What? Why are you asking me this?”

Carmen knows, deep down, that he wouldn’t offer the same courtesy to Marcus or Fak or god forbid Richie. Sydney or Tina? If they asked, sure. But he would never stand in front of them in the dining room to yell at them for not asking. He likes to think it’s because he knows you’re different. You don’t yell back, you don’t antagonise him, you don’t push like they do. You handle it, and you’re gentle and you’re soft and for some fucking reason the idea of anything happening to you makes him feel like he has just been mugged in the street. 

“Just,” he waves a hand in front of his face. He can hear Sydney calling out, probably something important knowing her. “Please, honey, promise me that you’ll let me at least drive you to the fucking train station? Okay? For my own peace of mind. How far away from the station do you live?”

You tell him and he’s immediately groaning. “No, alright. I’m driving you home.” He sounds frustrated, not mad at you, but less than pleased. You don’t take it to heart. “Now please, go back inside the kitchen and fucking eat something, you’re giving me an irregular heartbeat.”

[nathaslosthershit]

Unremarkable (LN4)

(Part 2 of the Blind Items series)

Summary: Blind Items returns again to ruin yet another happy couple's peace. This time, Lando Norris and his ‘unremarkable’ girlfriend.

“Lando, have you seen this?” his girlfriend asked, showing him the tweets. When they had soft launched, she got a small dose of what it would be like to be the WAG of Lando Norris. But even when they hadn’t known anything about her, some people still had been so mean. Now that they knew she had a ‘commoner’ job, they had started tearing her to shreds. ‘How could someone so rich and famous go for such a plain girl’ was what so many people had said. 

“Oscar showed it to me today. I am so sorry, honey, I was hoping that you wouldn’t have seen it. Those people are absolute asses, love.” He probably should have said something earlier but he knew how hard she would take it. While she had joked in the past about the differences in their jobs, especially the pay, he knew she felt insecure about it at times. 

“The thing is, I didn’t see it. Not at first. I only saw it when I heard one of my students talking about it in class today. Can you even imagine how humiliating that was for me? Hearing my own students who I have done nothing but be kind and understanding to, trying to get them to love learning, talk about how awful it is their favorite driver is dating someone as boring as a teacher.” She couldn’t stop the tears as she went on about the situation. He wouldn’t understand, he couldn’t. She knew Lando had his moments of insecurity but nothing like this. At the end of the day, he still had hundreds upon thousands of fans who loved him immensely. 

Even if he couldn’t fully understand, it still broke his heart seeing how much it hurt her. Sure, he hadn’t ever thought he would date a school teacher either, but that was mostly due to his previous lack of appreciation for school. But being with her has changed that. His girlfriend could always make things interesting. She loved to spout history facts on vacation and it always made him so deliriously happy to see how giddy she was to learn new things. 

Seeing her now though, so visibly upset made him realize this wasn’t something that could slide easily. His PR team might not love it but he wasn’t going to just sit there and let her feel terrible about herself.

“I’ll fix this, I promise.” He said quickly as he left. He shouldn’t have left her alone and crying, but he was fuming and decided he needed that anger to let his message out. 

landonorris

Liked by oscarpiastri and 153,137 others

landonorris I don’t know who this gossip page thinks they are but the last thing I will tolerate is someone hiding behind a screen telling the entire world that my girlfriend, who I love more than life itself, is ‘dull’ and ‘unremarkable’ because of her job. This is a woman who is smarter than 99% of the people I have ever interacted with, someone who spends so much of their time trying, and succeeding, to get kids to love learning. Even as someone who didn’t appreciate school as much as they should have, I would never have once thought school teachers were any of the negative things you have said. Luckily, here I am, happy with my amazing girlfriend who deserves the entire world, and I know I will spend the rest of my life trying to give it to her. 

Comments have been disabled

A few minutes later she came into the room, tears still staining her cheeks.

“Thank you Lando” she said as he motioned for her to sit on his lap. 

“I can say more if you want? I definitely think I could have cursed them out mor-” He was cut off with a kiss. The sheer force of it caused them to bump heads a little, which then caused them to break apart giggling. “I’m serious about what I said. I don’t know what I did to get someone as wonderful as you but I am not going to let some assholes on the internet make you upset over something so incredible. You should be proud of what you do and I will forever work to remind you of how amazing you are.”

“I love you, Lando” was all she replied.

“I love you more”

“Please can we not play this game you know I love-”

“Nope, la-la-la-la I can’t hear you over the sound of me loving you soooo much” He said as he covered his ears.

Such a dork, she thought.

[hawkinsmafia]

day 01: firsts

featuring Eugene, Jeff & Gareth

summary: Eugene gets fan mail! from a girl!

rating: general

wc: 824

cw: one use of the f-slur, unsanitary postal practices

an: written for the first day of @corrodedcoffinfest! I’ve been so excited for this event, it’s my first time ever participating in one of these!

“Mail call!”

Jeff turned around to gawk as Gareth walked through the door of their dressing room. “Mail call?”

“What, am I speaking Swahili? Mail call, motherfucker.” He sifted through the sheaf of envelopes and loose papers in his hand, pulling out a few addressed to Jeff and passing them over.

Eugene watched as Gareth plucked out a couple more pieces, taking them when he handed them over. “How’d we get mail here?”

“Security guard said girls were coming by all day and begging anyone they met to deliver a letter to us for them.” Gareth deposited a thick stack on Eddie’s makeup case before taking the rest to his dressing table and beginning the task of opening them. Eddie always got more fan mail than the other three combined. Jeff said it was because of his slutty waist and snake hips, and Gareth grumbled that if the audience could see his bubble butt from behind the drum kit, his mail stack would rival Eddie’s.

Eugene’s stack was always the smallest, if he got anything at all. They all tried to make light of it, joking that bassists never have fans. But Eugene was used to being overlooked anyway. It had served him well in high school, keeping him out of the line of fire when the assholes were looking for someone to torment.

Of course it also meant that no one had ever taken an interest in him either and, of the four of them, he was the only one to walk the graduation stage still a virgin. But whatever.

(And he still was. But whatever.)

He tore open the first envelope and started reading. It was from a guy—it was always from a guy—who also played bass—they always also played bass—and really liked the freestyle bass line Eugene had improvised at their show in Marietta during the song Bloody Body Bag, and he knew band life was crazy hectic but if Eugene had any free time after the show tonight, and was interested, maybe they could meet up for a beer and to talk shop. It made him smile, and he made a mental note to check the stage door after the show for this ‘Darren’ guy wearing a Zeppelin shirt if he had time.

“Augh, fucking Christ!” Gareth suddenly cried, and Eugene looked up to find him holding a pair of panties on the end of one of his drumsticks, looking at it with disgust.

“Another pair for the panty pile?” Jeff asked, laughing. “Are they used?”

“They’re sure as fuck not clean! Ugh!” Gareth flung them toward Eddie’s things. “Tell Ed they fell out of one of his letters instead.”

“Man, why don’t you just come out and say you’ve got a boyfriend?”

Gareth gave Jeff a withering look. “Yeah, sure, I’ll tell Rolling Stone I take dick when Sebastian Bach makes a public apology for wearing that ‘AIDS kills fags dead’ shirt onstage.”

“I’m just saying, it didn’t even slow Judas Priest down.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not Judas Priest…”

They both went back to reading their fan mail, so Eugene did too. Tucking Darren’s letter into his pocket, he lifted the unglued flap on the second letter and slipped the paper out. It was a sheet of lined notebook paper, complete with the ragged remains of spiral-bound edging down the left side. And it was covered in neat, round cursive written in purple gel pen.

Dear Eugene,

I’ve been C.C.’s biggest fan for two years, and even got to follow you guys for part of the Midwest Metal tour last spring. I’ve always had a thing for bassists and you’re my most favorite ever! I read your interview with B-Side, and I had to tear it out and keep it in my purse. I was really fat growing up too, and your words in that interview bring me a lot of peace. I pull it out and read them again any time I have to relive those high school memories of being The Fat Girl, and it always makes me feel better.

I really like that black leather jacket with the red stripes on the sleeves that you wear sometimes. If you have it with you now, could you wear it tonight, for me? Pretty please?

Break a leg tonight! (But not my heart!)

~ P.

There was a heart drawn at the bottom of the page, and a little doodle of a hand holding up devil horns. For some reason, Eugene couldn’t stop smiling at them.

“Hey, Earth to Genie!” Jeff called too loudly. Eugene’s head shot up, inexplicably feeling guilty, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Jesus, finally. What the hell’s got you grinning like a lunatic over there?”

“Oh, uh… I got a letter. From a girl.”

Gareth snorted. “What, is it your first one or something?”

“Yeah. Hey, can you grab my leather jacket off the rack? The one with the red stripes.”

(Btw, Sebastian Bach did apologize for that fucking shirt in 2003, and has raised money for and made donations to organizations dedicated to fighting HIV/AIDS. We stan character growth and learning to be better in this house.)

[pedgito]

hey, im a big fan of your writing. I am also a big fan of Javier Peña, Joel and Din lmao. So can I request a story about either one of those (mostly sfw mainly because im in my feelings) that is more of a hurt/comfort angst? Maybe bottled feelings are freed, a near death experience occurs after a heated confession that didn't go well...? idk I leave it up to you if you want to write it of course. Anyways, again, love love your stories, especially the way your portray Javier. Have a nice week <3

pairing | javier pena x fem!reader

content warning | mostly sfw, arguments over commitment/relationships, mention of violence (bombing), descriptions of minor injuries and emotional distress, just lots and lots of angst [2.6k]

author’s note | this screamed javi so hard so i couldn't pass up the opportunity to write some angst for him

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3

You’ve been at it for months now, waiting for Javier to finally give in and confess to you what he’s been holding back for so long—he’s so closed off it’s impossible, his back turned to you as he grips the chair shoved into the small dining table tucked in the corner of his apartment.

This was supposed to be a one off job, spend a couple months down in Bogotá with Steve—play alongside him in the hopes of catching Escobar, settling into a mix between the three of you, realizing fairly quickly that Peña wasn’t the type of nice guy you were used to.

He was brazen, straight-forward and a little bit—scratch that, a lot of an asshole, so full of himself that it oozed out. Still, that didn’t stop you from climbing into his bed a week into your stay, breaking the one rule you had.

Never fucking sleep with your co-workers.

Look where it got you; fighting an emotionless wall of stone.

He wants you, but he can’t have you. He doesn’t want to see you with other people, but he can’t stake his claim and call you his—but god forbid you so much as consider eyeing another person, someone interested in showing you the attention you wanted, that you deserved. His jealousy is unmatched, the curl in his lip when he sees you across the room around them, the short and fleeting touches they gave to your arm in passing—from your perspective, a simple gesture between friends, but to Javier, it's a threat.

And it wasn’t that he didn’t try to show you attention—Javier was more than that, all-consuming in a way, passionate to a fault. But, he was not a lover type guy.

Still, you were naive enough to think you could change that.

“I’m not doing this anymore,” You spoke strongly, watching the tilt of his head as looks down, burning a cigarette held between his fingers, “whatever this is—we can forget about it.”

“Yeah—I’m sure the others will have a fuckin’ field day when they catch wind,” Murphy let it slip once and it’s been the constant topic of conversation, playful teasing toward you but torture on Peña who likes to keep things private, always, “always eye fucking you across the room.”

“Who cares, Javi?” You ask, feeling like you were talking to a ghost as he refused to look at you. “You don’t give a shit what’s going on here, why should I?”

And it hurts because you do.

It was innocent at first, one hookup that should’ve ended that night. But, one turned into several and eventually you were spending most night at Javier’s apartment to the extent of grabbing dinner on the way there—or, for fucks sake, cooking for the man. You knew that he loved breakfast in the mornings despite his constant refusal to eat it, how he couldn’t focus without his first cup of coffee and why he kept his gun at his bedside and the spare under the mattress.

He’s got scars, faint but visible when you lay against his chest at night—some from childhood, some not, but you wouldn’t know had you not spent the time with him and watched the vulnerability he showed when it was just you, just him after a long, stressful day trying to catch a terrifying monster and the both of you itching to burn off steam.

“You can’t ask me on a date, can’t—jesus—you can’t even look at me, Javier.” He hears the break in your voice, how hard you’re struggling to keep things together.

And you’re fuming, furious, aiming to hit him where it really hurts. You want him to feel. Feel anything.

“You like to play house and let me cook you meals, act like I’m yours when it’s convenient for you.” He twitches at that, slamming the burnt end of the cigarette into the ashtray. It’s the only real sign of emotion he’s shown all morning. “That’s all you care about. Egoísta.” (Selfish)

He slams the ashtray down roughly, ashes flying over the table. You don’t jump or flinch, not at all fazed by his outburst. You saw it too often during work when things fucked up or didn’t go his way. When he did show emotion it was intense and full body.

“I told you,” He says slowly, turning toward you now, “I don’t do this,” He punctuates slowly, fingering wagging between the both of you, “I can’t do—this.”

Clearly.

“Can’t or won’t?”

The difference is staggering, truly. You wanted an answer.

“You tell me you never want me to leave your bed, your apartment, that you want to keep me here forever because there’s nothing that makes you feel this close to home—and you can’t do this?”

He speaks it against your lips almost every night when he’s pulling you into his chest, pressing those soft lips of his against your forehead and kissing you with a tenderness reserved only for you.

Javier never answers, gaze growing more intense by the second, bound to retreat from the situation before emotions boil over—but you beat him to it, grabbing your bag and storming out without a word.

He’s never had to beg you to stay and he doesn’t realize how desperately he’d wished to ask you until a few hours later, a phone call from Steve that has his heart dropping into his stomach, the equal worry in Murphy’s voice as he relays the information.

Steve mumbles your name—hurt, bomb, Escobar written all over it, dead, so many dead.

You’re lucky to still be standing—or rather alive, forced onto a gurney lined in the aisle of some rundown Bogota hospital where the workers were running rampant, clearly on edge and scrambling to save lives.

It was minor compared to what could have been. A small concussion, some lacerations to your face and a nasty gash on your side that required some stitching. It wasn’t anything some pain medication and bandages couldn’t fix, but in that commotion you had lost all of your belongings, undoubtedly damaged beyond repair. You had been in the shopping center ten minutes prior to the explosion and you were shaken, admittedly, wondering why your life had been spared over so many others.

And you always hear about your life flashing before your eyes during a near death experience, never really believing it until it happens—and selfishly, you couldn’t think about anything but Javi.

He was a nasty parasite, the kind that sucked the life and energy out of you, took everything and gave nothing in return. You knew how he was going into things, knew he wouldn’t budge or change his ways.

But still, there was a hope that maybe he would change.

The first thing you manage to do when you find a phone is call the embassy—anyone who would answer and let them know what happened, but they were miles ahead and already fifty feet deep into investigating.

Carillo is the first to ask if you’re okay, not that it matters—but then Murphy is scrambling for the phone, a soft commotion in the background as he argues with the man until he finally lets up and hands it over.

“God, we thought you were dead. Please tell me you’re alright?” Murphy pleads, sounding just as strained and worried as you’d expect, “All your limbs, nothing missing?”

You laugh softly into the phone, the first breath of life back into after what has been a terrible day. It’s already evening, the day has come and gone and the sun is setting without a trace of anyone coming to help.

Not that you expected it—Javier wasn’t the type to get over things easily.

“Yep. Head’s still attached and everything.” And Steve can appreciate your way of coping, adding a bit of lightheartedness to a dark situation. You release a shaky breath, squeezing the plastic tighter until cracks under your grip, “Is there—I mean, they just discharged me, but I don’t have a ride.”

“Javier didn’t pick you up?” Murphy asks, sounding confused. “I told him—he should’ve…”

He trails off, cursing away from the phone as he speaks to someone distantly, “Which hospital are you at?”

You look around for any indication, reading off an unfamiliar name to Steve as he repeats it, scribbling it down on a piece of paper.

“Shit—Javi’s probably clear on the other side of town from you.” Murphy runs a tired hand through his hair, over his face. “They told us they sent everyone to the one here close by the embassy.”

Everyone.

Families searching for their missing—you couldn’t even imagine it.

“He—does Javi think I’m—“

“Shit, I don’t know. He’s been on edge since he got here this morning, we’ve been trying to figure something out, anything—he left a few hours ago when we weren’t getting answers and I just—did something happen?”

“I think I pushed him too far this morning,” You say softly, huddling closer to the wall as the halls become more crowded, louder and suffocating in a way that has your curling around yourself slightly, mindful of the pain in your side, “fuck, maybe this is karma, Steve.”

“Hey, no—don’t say that shit,” He stops you in your tracks, “Javi is…Javi, you can’t predict anything he’s gonna do. Dude’s a fuckin’ brick wall half the time.”

There’s a long moment of silence.

“Steve, I don’t have my phone.” You tell him, “Can you just—call him? Let him know. I need to find a cab or someone willing to drive me back to Bogota if that’s even fucking possible. I don’t even have my wallet or badge with me.”

It’s almost like a divine intervention that you hear Javier on the other end, cutting through the flurry of other voices and busy telephones ringing. He’s wrenching the phone out of Steve’s hand before he can get a word in.

“Querida,” He says soft, voice quivering slightly, “Querida, is that you?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will yourself to remember how badly things ended earlier in the day, even if they didn’t feel as important now, they were still important to you.

Emotions were high now, but the fallout could be devastating.

“Yes, I’m—Javi, I’m okay. A little banged up and stuff but I’ll survive,” The silence grows as he absorbs the information, “Look, I need to go. I have to find a ride back to town.”

“Don’t move,” He says briskly, suddenly, “Fuck—I mean stay there, no te vayas. I’m coming for you.” (Do not go)

The line cuts before you have a chance to reply.

You love how well he sticks out in a crowd despite how he likes to blend in and not draw attention to himself, but he’s all tanned skin and shiny with a layer of sweat that tells you he probably ran a few blocks to get here.

You did wait, even if it was closer to a half hour before there was any sign of him, despite how upset you still were, you waited.

Of course you did.

His eyes dart around nervously before they land on you, tucked away in a corner as you cradle your side and he’s barreling toward you, scooping you up before you can protest. The small squeak you release has him pulling back like someone stabbed him with a hot brand, brows furrowed with worry.

“My side,” You mumble, shifting his hand away from the wound, watching as it falls helpless to his side again, his gaze lingering over your body, face, seeing the amount of damage you took, “hey—I’m fine, all things considered.”

Javier blinks slowly, rubbing around the side of your jaw, careful of the small bandage covering a nasty cut, that familiar pout growing on his lips. You saw it earlier, but the implication was different.

This wasn’t anger. It was worry.

“Mi amor,” He murmurs, oblivious to the commotion around you both as he looks at you, almost straight through you, “fuck—I’m so sorry.”

You breathe through your nose deeply, shaking your head as you grip his wrist for leverage, pulling him alongside you until you’re outside, away from the crowd of people and alone.

“No, I’m sorry.”

And for once, Javier is surprised.

He knows you always have a comeback poised on your tongue, the will to fight and work through any argument that surfaces, but this is defeat. It’s clear as day on your face in the way it falls, eyes softened to the point of near tears and your cheek covered in a dark bruise that makes his chest hurt.

“I don’t know why I’m forcing you to answer to something you don’t want,” That something in question was you, but it didn’t matter, “maybe we let things drag on too long. I was just—happy, I liked it. I shouldn’t have expected anything from you since you were clear from the beginning.”

Even with Javier being the first to cross the lines he drew himself, asking you to stay that one night and never going back, making mistake after mistake until it stopped feeling wrong and started to seem, well, normal. But, here you were, taking the blame like he had no wrongdoing in any of this.

“Bebita, no.” His voice is low, thumb rubbing a tender spot in the side of your neck, a soft touch that massages the ache in your muscles, head tilting into the touch as you look at him. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Oh, the irony.

“Now look at you,” He says, scanning over your face briefly, “consumes mi mente, nena.” (You consume my mind, baby)

“I can’t do halfway anymore, Javi.” It’s pure honesty, fingers finding his wrist as they wrap around delicate, using his touch as an anchor. “I need all of you.”

“Then have it,” Javier says mindlessly, without thinking and speaking instinct—it’s real, you can see it in the way his eyes widen and soften in the same instance, that pleasing look that entraps you, “tómalo.” (Take it)

The tears that sting your eyes don’t fall, but they rise, blinking rapidly to will them away and force yourself to keep composed despite hearing those words, knowing how deeply he meant them.

“Fuck, I’ll marry you if that proves anything to you, querida.” He’s being over-dramatic, but it has your insides fluttering like wildfire, “I should’ve never let you leave this morning.”

But, he was scared. Terrified of how deeply he felt for you.

“There’s so much you don’t know,” Javier explains, “so much I need to tell you but I don’t want to scare you away.”

As if he could.

“Javi, I’m with you.” You tell him steadily, “I always have been.”

Javier laughs through a sigh, breathing through his nose as he smiles for the first time that day.

“We can talk. We will.” Javier nods assuredly, “But, I want to get you home first.”

Home. He means his apartment, but it comes out that way without realizing.

He’s tender when he helps you shower, cleans your wounds up with what little first aid he has, but he manages, helping you dress in what has to be the most vulnerable moment you’ve had since meeting him.

Javier holds you for a long while after that, curled up in his lap on the sofa as he smokes away with his head leaned against the back of the cushion, rubbing a hand over your thigh softly.

“Hermosa?”

You’re nearly asleep by then, rousing with a small hum.

“After all of this,” He trails on, “when we put Escobar away and this shit is done,” He pauses, taking a short drag from the cigarette and blowing it out into the air, “I want you to come back with me.”

“To Texas?”

He nods, squeezing your leg for reassurance.

“I'm terrified of losing you here, but home—I would never let you out of my sight, I could keep you close.”

His trepidation will always be his downfall, but he knows he can’t let you go anymore. He needs you here, he’ll need you after.

“Anywhere you want, Javi. I’ll follow.”

He doesn’t have any reason not to believe you.

“Buena.” (Good.)

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Have you ever thought about what it would be like if Eomer and Grima met as children lmao (also love your work🤍 I’m a huge fan of what you write and I’m married to Grima as well he’s my wet pookie)

sometimes there are people who come into my inbox with only the best and most amazing messages - you are one of them! (also thank you so much for the lovely compliments! I'm always so happy when people like my Grima nonsense <3)

I have never considered this but it is objectively hilarious. It would require them being the same age, which shifts their dynamic a bit I think since Grima is, at a minimum, like 13 years older than Eomer but really it's much more like 15 to 20 or more, depending if you're doing book or movie Grima re: age. (Book is ambiguous. He's described as "old" but what does that mean? Aragorn's also old! Anyway, I usually head-canon him as somewhere between 45-50. Eomer's like 27 and making some Peak Life Choices Boy Howdy.)

ANYWAY

Them meeting as children would be a mess. Grima's that kid who is like "I dissected the dead bird the cat brought in, do you want to see it? The insides are interesting--you can see where it might have been ill and dying anyway" and everyone is like "….no". He also suffers from the "everyone thinks I'm a weird freaky asshole so I might as well be the weirdest freakiest asshole they've ever met" - ouroboros situation. I also think he was born prickly which helps little. His natural personality is like pickle brine and life just made it worse.

(Eomer: it's a good thing pickle-backs exist. Shot of whisky followed by a shot of pickle brine. It's great.

Grima: what are you saying??

Eomer: that you're an acquired taste. and sometimes I feel like I've woken up after a bad night at the bar with Eothain.

Grima: .. ….,. .,,.. you know. I'll take it.)

Eomer is rough and tumble and also trying to live up to the Image of His Father. He's also a prince and therefore used to getting what he wants when he wants it. I think he was also born a bit truculent. Like, the slightly compulsive need to just Start Shit with people on occasion is there in his late 20s, I presume it was there in his childhood as well. It's not a constant thing, but when it strikes Eomer cannot resist.

(will this one day end up with him causing an International Incident? possibly.)

At the same time, I think Eomer was a child with a sunny disposition that dampened really swiftly after his parents died and he became a bit grave and serious in his teens. When you're fifteen and taking up your father's mantel and being told that he was a Hero and you're going to be Just Like Him is a lot to hold and I think Eomer's response to it was to try and be the Grave Heroic Lord that people expected him to be. Another ouroboros, just in a different direction to Grima.

All of this to say - them meeting at like twelve? Disaster. Grima would be weird and trying to figure out how to keep Eomer from beating him up or something but he's not perfected the ability to manipulate people or situations because he's twelve. Eomer would be like "why is this freaky kid staring at me and being weird" then would either try and start shit or would ignore him because Eomer is a Prince and Grima is a Commoner.

Also, I think Grima started doing his thieving at a young age and Eomer is at once offended because that is against the law! and you're not supposed to do that! and only sneak-thieves and villains do that! at the same time I can see ten year old him thinking it secretly kind of cool and badass. There's some mischief in Eomer that Grima can prod into the light of day (not to mention the natural desire kids have to test boundaries and push limits).

--

They meet because idk Grima's father is in Edoras for business reasons. It's sheering season, there's wool to sell.

(a half-drabble-thing below the cut)

Grima's loitering in a market square watching people and feeling a bit envious of the other boys who muck about together because he wants to be included but he knows if he tries it'll end poorly so he just watches and feels resentful.

Eomer's been taken to market by Theodred for whom Eomer acts as page since it provides him a quasi-apprenticeship in how to be a good Eotheod lord. Theodred being fourteen years older than Eomer has his household established and is in a good position to take Eomer on. Theodred says, ‘You can take a few hours to yourself. Consider it a half-day holiday.’

Eomer is well-chuffed with this development and is sauntering around with some of his mates. Determining if they’re going to make trouble or not – Eomer is conscious of needing to set a good example and wanting his cousin and uncle’s approval so does talk them out of the more insane ideas.

The squad gets distracted at some stall or other and Eomer isn’t interested in the wares so is looking around. He sees a slight, strange looking kid a few stalls over who is leaning against a pole watching them then he watches some of the common kids who are kicking a ball about in the square, others are running hoops &c. Eomer doesn’t at first pay attention to him because he’s just some peasant. Look at his clothes! Clearly not from Edoras. Clearly some boy from a farm or small village.

Then the boy seems to disappear and Eomer thinks that this is strange. He was sort-of keeping an eye on him since Eomer got a sense that he was planning some mischief but now he’s gone. La!

Into thin air.

Eomer’s mates are done with this stall—they want to go to another. Or maybe find a cockfight to bet some of their allowance on. All else fails, they say, we can go up to the first floor of the White Hart and look at the girls passing by.

This all sounds swell to Eomer and the roudy group makes their way towards the back of the market where the more dubious activities occur. As they round a corner Eomer collides into someone who hadn’t been there but a moment ago. It’s the boy from before! The little rat-faced one with the greasy dark hair and large eyes.

Eomer’s back up and dusting himself off as one of Eomer’s friends hauls the boy to his feet, ‘Don’t you watch where you’re going? Eh? We’re walking here, can’t you see?’ He’s jabbing into the boy’s chest and the boy is in turns frightened but also, somehow, sneering at them as if he were their better. The boy is gripping his hands into fists and there is dirt between fingers, as if he had grabbed up something from the ground. ‘What’s that smell? Sheep-shit? Wool? You got wool for brains?’

Eomer is all, ‘Leave him alone. He’s not worth it.’ And his friend laughs, wags a finger at the boy, ‘You’re lucky we’re kind.’ Then they’re off and Eomer doesn’t really think about the encounter until they’re at the cockfight and he goes for his purse to put a bet on and finds it lighter than it was an hour ago.

When they crashed into that boy.

And Eomer recalls a hand near his back then his belt but he hadn’t thought much of it. Just thought the boy was floundering a bit, being knocked over as he was, and Eomer so much bigger than he.

The little bastard nicked some of his money!

The little bastard is good if he got some but not all. Too smart to take the whole purse, too smart to cut it. The fall must have loosened it enough for some of the coin to fall out and the boy grabbed it up. Eomer thinks he should report the theft, because no one is above the law as his cousin tells him with regularity. As Third Marshal it will be Eomer’s job to ensure that justice is dispensed. It will be his job to ensure that the laws of the land are enacted fairly, honestly.

But it was only a few coins. In any case, Eomer doesn’t think the boy could stand the whipping that would follow. He had a pinched, starved look about him. That cringing, mincing manner some apprentices get when their masters are hard handed. When his friend was jabbing a finger into the boy’s chest Eomer had half expected the ribs to cave in.

Best leave him be. He’ll get his comeuppance at some point should the boy makes it to manhood with the same unwise habits.

Fishing out some pennies, Eomer says, ‘I’m going in on the cockerel with the green feathering on its wings.’

‘Only five pence? And that bird is going to lose, look how small he is!’

‘He may be small, but I think he’s got some cunning in him. In any case, thrift can be the mark of a wise man.’

His friends laugh: oh ho ho, Eomer sounds like a grandfather. Look at their friend the prince Eomer, trotting about as if he were a sage.

Eomer rolls his eyes, grabs one of his friends closest to him to knuckle his head, then they are cajoled into behaviour by the pressure and presence of the crowd.

Eomer’s bird wins the day. He preens all the way home.

~

Years on from then, Eomer will be visiting his uncle and cousin in Edoras and his uncle will say, ‘Come meet the man Aethelrod has marked as his successor, once he can no longer perform the role of Law Speaker.’

Eomer will say that Aethelrod has years left in him, surely? And his uncle will laugh his loud laugh that fills the golden hall: Oh yes, he’ll be long lived. Still, best to think about the future early.

When Eomer follows his uncle out through the golden pillars and the golden doors of Meduseld into the sun, he will see the broad, soft face of Aethelrod at the top of the stairs and behind him a tall man built lightly, with dark hair and large eyes. And Eomer will look at the man and the man will look at Eomer and Eomer will think the face to be familiar though he cannot place it. The man will bow, a perfectly executed action of someone who practices. Aethelrod will thump the man’s chest with his large fist and say, ‘This is Grima son of Galmod, found him out in the hinterlands some years back. He’s whip-fast and clever as an adder. He’ll do well for a Law Speaker, my lord. He’ll do very well indeed.’

And the man with the large eyes will seem to stare through Eomer then he will smile and it will be one of dark amusement. As if there were some joke being played at Eomer’s expense. Eomer’s back will get up, his skin will bristle, he will think that this man from the hinterlands shouldn’t be so confident or comfortable. He has yet to prove himself, after all.

It will be later, months or years on from the introduction, when Eomer will be rounding a corner in Meduseld and he will collide with Grima who has somehow made himself a fixture in Theoden’s household and Eomer cannot help but think there a secret, subtle magic at work. Because who is this man? No one has heard of him? Who is his father? Some shepherd from the east Emnet. No one of note or noble name. And if a man has no name or history can he be trusted?

In any case, they will collide and Grima will step back begging his pardon, he will be bowing, and Eomer will be saying, ‘It’s fine, don’t worry about it’ and Grima will be leaving, their shoulders will be brushing, and Eomer will think he feels the ghost of a hand at his back, his belt-purse, and when he looks over his shoulder he will see Grima also looking back and Eomer will realize oh Gods, it’s that kid. It’s that boy who nicked half my allowance that one day. And he will wonder at himself and how it was he never made the connection, but the moment is over because Grima is gone—back to the main hall where he will weave his plans for advancement and Eomer is in his room, checking his purse, and thinking to himself: I could have sworn there was a cup on the bedside table. A pretty one with gold in the rim. I could have sworn I left it there this morning.

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Mix and Match Blurb Submission (from a new fan!) Rooster/Dealer's Choice/Piano (or alternatively, aviators, because why the hell not?)/"I'm not sorry."

Welcome, welcome! I'm so glad you're here!

This one was tough, but I hope you like it! It's a little bit of fluff, a little bit of angst. I may revisit this prompt in the future, for sure.

-----

And I'd Do It All Again

You’re sitting at the piano bench, your fingers ghosting along the keys when Bradley got home that night. It’s late, and on a normal day, he would have been home nearly two hours ago. But it wasn’t a regular night, and he had been detained on base for a reprimand. You hadn’t bothered waiting around for him, too blinded by your anger.

You don’t look up when he walks in, nor do you respond when he calls your name. Instead, you press down on the ivory a little bit harder. You’re not playing any specific melody or keeping any type of tune, but you think the screeching that is coming out of the instrument is a good representation of what you’re feeling right now. 

“Are you going to ignore me?” 

He sighs when you do just that. He straddles the bench beside you so that he’s fully facing you. You can feel his body heat and smell the mixture of jet fuel and his cologne. He doesn’t touch you and you think you’re grateful for that. 

“I’m not sorry,” he spoke gently. The piano makes an abrupt sound as you suddenly stop playing. Still, you don’t look at him. “You are a damn good pilot, and you deserve a lot more respect than what you get. I bite my tongue a lot more than I should when we’re at work, because I know you can fight your own battles and I know that’s what you want me to do. But you’re also my wife. And the moment some asshole thinks just because he thinks he’s better than you and can push you like he did? That’s not something I’ll ignore. I will never, ever apologize for defending you for that.” 

You sit in the quiet for several long moments as you consider his words. 

Truthfully, it had been inevitable. The hot shot new pilot who was subbing in for Omaha for the next few weeks had been more than a little demeaning since he arrived at Top Gun six days ago, talking down to not only you, but Phoenix and Halo as well. His patience was already running thin by the time the douchebag thought it was okay to push you when you showed him up in the classroom. The guy deserved it, but you hated that your husband even had to put himself in that position for you, and that he would potentially face consequences that impact his career for it. 

If you were honest with yourself, you were grateful. 

You finally turn your head. His whiskey colored eyes look back at you, imploring you to forgive him, but steadfast in not backing down either. You let out a sigh and shuffle closer between his spread legs on the piano bench. He takes it as permission and lets a hand settle on your thigh. 

“Is it going in your official file?” you ask quietly. 

“No. Mav and Hondo were in the room and saw it happen. They backed me up with Cyclone.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief and lean your body fully against his. His arms are immediately around you, holding you tightly. 

“You didn’t have to hit him,” you mutter into his khaki uniform shirt. He presses a kiss to your hair. 

“Yes I did. And you know it. Please don’t ask me to apologize, because I won’t.” 

You nod, knowing that, at the end of the day, you would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed. 

“Thank you for always wanting to protect me,” you respond instead. Bradley tucks a finger under your chin, titling your head back far enough to meet his eyes again. He connects your lips softly, the first one you’d shared since he left before you that morning. 

“I’ll always take care of you, baby. Always.” 

count count: 637

[troubledeafhaven]

How is she suppose to stop it in your opinion, is she suppose to come to someone house and take their phone away, is she suppose to respond to every single person on the internet that is using her to be racist, is she suppose to make a statement after every game, news flash, people that would listen to her don't make such comments in the first place and people that do won't stop. She would have to spend so much time and mental energy to engage in that and that would simple not do a single thing, the fact that you don't see her as the victim in all of that is crazy, and also that is quite frankly just a part of the sports in today's world, whether it's wrong, that's just reality, I get that it's hard for these players but what dijonai and others are doing is just adding fire to the whole thing, it just shows that shes bothered by it, which is the point of these people

Are you for real?

I just said that racism is a CONTINUOUS problem and that it is EVERYONES responsibility to CONTINUE doing the work to dismantle it.

I did not say I want CC to be the new Martin Luther King Jr. I said I want her to KEEP talking about it. Because that is how these problems are dealt with. The same way I expect every other player and the WNBA to talk about it. She’s not set to a higher standard of expectation she’s set to the minimum standard of expectation which is “When we see racism we call that shit out and keep calling those fuckers out”

And obviously they are bothered by it, aren’t you bothered by it? Any decent person with a moral compass is bothered by it.

She has a PR team that can draft up whatever she wants to say, she has to spend minimum a couple minutes talking, and that’s it.

Time and mental energy is also spent by the players and fans getting attacked, the TRAUMA of being on the receiving end of racist attacks, the reality that they KEEP getting attacked. They continuously spend time and mental energy dealing with the racism every moment of every day.

And I acknowledged that it sucks her career is being hijacked by those people and that she is being used as click bait but bro she is not THE victim.

A victim is someone who is hurt, killed, damaged, or destroyed by something. Her reputation may be tainted cuz of those people but she isn’t on the receiving end of racist attacks and people wishing her cancer came back. I’m sorry she’s being used as a symbol for something she doesn’t agree with, but she has THE POWER and the THE CHOICE to either look away or do something about it. Black people DO NOT get the CHOICE to look away and do nothing about the racism they face. It’s a problem they have to navigate every moment of their life.

If she continues speaking out about it she will gain more popularity and support.

If she doesn’t keep saying stuff and she chooses to stay silent she will gain popularity and support from the racist assholes.

In both scenarios she’s gaining something, she gets to pick what she wants to gain.

I don’t see from a PR/marketability and a humanity standpoint why she wouldn’t say something. Seriously what is the problem with her continuing to speak out? What is she gonna lose if she does?

[creativity-deficient]

So, in defense of Stanford Pines

As the gravity falls fan in me has awakened once again per the release of the Book of Bill, I wanted to write a quick character analysis/essay on one of my two favorite characters in the series, Stanford Pines.

Now it’s important to note that Ford is in fact, a very flawed character, and this essay is in NO means meant to downplay that. He’s absolutely an egotistical asshole who was way too in his own head and focused on the end goal to fully appreciate the people and things he has around him, which ultimately ended up playing a huge part in his downfall.

However I do want to talk a little bit more about his side of things, as this is something I feel like isn’t quite done enough justice in the series, making it easy to just see him as a jerk or take Stan’s side in the fight between them, and has always been something I’ve really appreciated about both Journal 3 and now, the book of bill, both providing a new perspective on his character and exactly WHY he turned out the way he did.

I want to start from the beginning, by delving a bit into Ford’s childhood.

It’s a common misconception in the fandom that Ford had a good relationship with his father. He was the loved child, while Stanley was the unloved child. Now there’s no denying that Stan’s relationship with his father was…considerably worse, but with how deep Ford’s own insecurities and his obsession to “be the best” lie, I find it very hard to believe that his own relationship with his father was a healthy one either.

Filbrick was considered a VERY strict man, who was not easily impressed, making it very likely that Ford was either groomed into thinking, or at least at some point convinced himself that his smarts were the only worthwhile thing about him, especially since he pretty much already felt like a freak because of his fingers.

It’s even mentioned in the book of bill that his father wouldn’t want him returning home without millions. I mean, does that SOUND like a loving father to you?

And that brings me to his falling out with Stan. Yeah, EXTREMELY dick move to let your father kick out your teenage twin brother over some dumb mistake, however, it’s always felt a bit weird to me, like there was much more going on then just “you destroyed my project I’m throwing out our entire brotherly bond we spent the last 17-18 years building fuck you” because let’s face it, huh??? Kicking your own TWIN BROTHER, who you have been best friends with all your life, to the curb for some dumb school you literally learned about DAYS ago was something that never made sense to me, and I always struggled to understand why and how it even had to come to that.

But, let’s look it at this way. To Ford, Stan was the only person he had. They were the only people each other had, the only people that truly got each other. Ford considered Stan the only person he could trust at that point in time, this only person who wouldn’t treat him differently than others. And what does that person do? Completely betray that trust and destroy his project. Yes, we know that it was an accident, but Ford didn’t. Was he wrong to automatically assume that Stan did it on purpose instead of just, you know, talking it out? Oh absolutely, but we already established that he clearly doesn’t have healthy coping mechanisms, and all things considered, I don’t think Stan really helped his case when it came to proving his innocence, as both before and even after the confrontation, all he can seemingly think about is their boat. All things considered, I can’t completely blame Ford for thinking it was an act of betrayal. Does that completely justify his response? Oh absolutely not. But I DO think the situation goes a bit deeper than people assume.

Then we have his time in gravity falls. It’s hinted at a bunch throughout the series, journal 3, and the book of bill that Ford, despite his anger, truly missed his brother, and regretted his actions towards him (the swingset and stan o war in his dreamscape, holding on to that photo of him and Stan as kids all those years, not being able to think back on his childhood at glass shard beach without growing sad, etc).

“Well, why didn’t he just contact him then???”

Well, to be fair, he kind of had a lot going on, and by a lot, of course, I mean Bill.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the relationship between Ford and Bill was EXTREMELY toxic. Bill, doing what Bill does best, leeched onto Ford’s already deeply set insecurities to led him into a false sense of security, one where bill and ONLY bill truly understood him, and that everyone else was out to get him and couldn’t see his true potential, effectively isolating him from his friends, family, and even society.

Ford went through HELL in this period of time. He was left alone by bill for long periods of time until he was desperate and dependent enough to lash out. He was gaslit and manipulated into pushing the people he cared about away. When he decided he wasn’t going to do bill’s bidding, he was literally TORMENTED for it. In all fairness, I don’t really think he was in the right mindset for ANYTHING during that time, losing himself in BOTH his own stubbornness and this endless cycle of abuse.

Despite this though, despite ALL of this, all the manipulation, their falling out, etc, Stan was still the first and ONLY person Ford thought of to take the Journals, the only person he considered to be trustworthy. Yes it was petty of him to bring up the project yet AGAIN (let it go my dude), but I do think it is important to acknowledge that he still thought of Stan pretty highly at the time, or else that wouldn’t have been the case.

“Oh but Alex he told Stan to get away from him yadayada!!!” Uh, no he didn’t. He just told him to hide the journals, not that he couldn’t come back afterwards, that was just Stan assuming the worst.

On that note, I do think it’s important to also acknowledge that while Stan is definitely, in the eyes of a lot of people as well as myself, the more sympathetic of the two, he’s definitely made his fair share of mistakes as well. I don’t think there’s really truly a right or a wrong in this argument, I think instead both of them are two very complex characters who had both been through a lot at that point, and both have made their mistakes (even if Stan’s were a bit more justified in most cases)

Then of course, he gets pushed through the portal, and spends the next 30 years between dimensions.

Now for anyone who hasn’t read journal 3 (spoilers ig? The book is pretty old atp but I figured I’d give one anyways) Ford is basically told by an oracle that he “has the face of someone who is destined to defeat bill” (a lot of people call him egotistical for assuming the oracle was talking about him and not his brother, but I digress. If an oracle looked YOU deep into your eyes and told you you had the face of someone destined to save the universe, be honest, would YOU think they were talking about your sibling??) Ford then proceeds to spend the next 30 years building a weapon to effectively defeat bill, and just as he’s about to finally use it, he’s sucked (not literally) back into gravity falls, not ONLY effectively erasing all of his hard work and progress, but risking weirdmaggedon in the first place. On TOP of it all, he also learns that Stan has been using his name all these years, and that he now has a pretty extensive criminal record.

Yes, Stan did it all in his best interest, and Ford could’ve absolutely shown more appreciation, but all things considered, I’d be pretty pissed off too.

But, all things considered, at the end of it all Ford still has those he hold close to his heart. He missed Stan all those years, considered Fiddleford a true friend and was super appreciative to have him there while they worked on the project together, he’s joyous to find out he has a niece and nephew, etc, and when he realizes he’s hurt these people, namely his brother and former lab partner, he feels immense guilt, and does everything he can to atone to it.

I truly think Stanford’s character development is one of the best in the series, as he finally learns to appreciate what he has instead of trying to chase down an unachievable end goal, and it’s definitely something that I feel goes unnoticed in the grand scheme of things when it comes to his character.

Now, what was the point of this 1 am ramble?? The point was the highlight the wonderful complexity of Stanford Pines’s character. Yes he was an extremely flawed man. Someone who pushed away those he loved him pursuit of greater things, and let his own pride be the fall of him. However, at the same time, he’s also a man who bears a lot of scars, both metaphorical and literal, and an extremely complex character who deserves a lot more than to be characterized as this “cold, uncaring asshole” something I’ve seen WAY too much of. I feel like it’s important to acknowledge that he’s made mistakes while also recognizing the complexity of a lot of it too, as well as acknowledging that he did indeed, learn from those mistakes.

[britcision]

REPOST, ignore this if you read chapter 4!

(because this just fucking in besties, copying FROM tumblr online and pasting TO tumblr mobile doubles up the fucking paragraph breaks again, and I’m just deadass not fixing that 3 times)

ENJOY chapter 4, part 1!

Today’s chapter is dedicated to @lehana37

One day, beloveds, one day we WILL get to Sam and Dick… but not today, I was having way too much fun bullying Vlad and Bruce

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikoyuii @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @eonic @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids

Previous chapter:

First chapter:

———————

Pay Attention To Me Dammit

“Okay,” Danny sucked in a deep breath, surfacing from Jason’s suit to two deeply concerned pairs of blue eyes, “let’s get somewhere private real fast.”

Tucker snickered, helpfully extracting both him and Sam from Jason’s arms.

“I can’t fucking believe you forgot Vlad was coming,” he sighed, voice still shaking as he gave Jason a once over.

Sam, sucking in huge gasps of air, pinched his arm as she straightened.

“Oh shut up, not like you brought him up either,” she wheezed, still grinning.

“Vladdie’s gonna be fucking heartbroken,” Tucker sighed happily, shoving Danny towards a corner.

People were definitely looking. And not just the other four bats; regular guests were watching behind fans, hands, or just deadass staring.

Tim took over, catching Danny’s wrist and pulling the other boy after him. They weren’t that far off the same height.

“So, should I take it that “Vlad” being here is a good thing or a bad thing?” He asked, pulling on his best socialite smile, heading for one of the hall exits instead.

“Back room?” Jason wondered, guiding Sam and Tucker quickly after him. Tim nodded without looking back.

“They shouldn’t be busy yet. We can talk without being overheard,” he added to the other three, who obligingly sped up.

“As for your question, Vlad being here is… probably gonna end up being nothing?” Danny offered, doing his best smiles for the rich assholes they passed.

Sam kicked him in the ankle.

“Wait til we’re alone,” she said quietly, hustling Tucker along.

Unsurprisingly to Jason and Tim, the first back room already had four other people sitting in it, on two extremely plush couches, angled at right angles and facing a fireplace. Before Danny could turn to find another, Steph caught his hand and pulled him in.

“Hi, Stephanie Brown, friend of the Waynes, we’re gonna talk all about Jason’s adorable little crush on you but first, what did you need privacy for?” She asked, eyes bright with innuendo.

Danny grinned right back, already liking this one, and relaxed when Tim and Jason guided the others in and shut the door.

“Well, I guess you all being here means no one has to be found later… and the more eyes the better in this case,” he mused, looking over the other teens and young adult.

Dick waved at Tucker, grinning sarcastically.

“Danny. And Danny,” he added, nodding to Danny himself.

Sam hid a snicker behind her hand.

“That’s what you went with?” She asked Tucker, and he grinned entirely unrepentantly back.

“What, Jason said he told them who I was,” he said in his very best innocent voice.

Before they could get going, Jason raised a hand.

“I’m gonna guess there was a reason you snuck Danny in other than getting back at Sam’s parents? Vlad Masters,” he prodded, dropping to sit on one of the plush royal blue couches next to Cass.

All three Amity Parkers sobered immediately.

“Right… yeah, we should sit for this,” Tucker agreed, glancing around the room. Seating for nine was going to be tight, but… well, he may no longer be a teenager, but he was still seating-flexible.

Introductions were made as people juggled themselves around, finally ending with Cass, Jason, and Danny on one sofa, Sam, Steph, and Damian on the other, and Dick and Tim perching on windowsill or sofa arm respectively. Tucker took the floor.

Once movement stilled, Danny exchanged glances with Sam and Tucker. Maybe hoping that for once, he wouldn’t be doing the explaining?

He shoulda known better.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and didn’t lean intentionally into Jason’s side. It was good to have another halfa around, that was all.

“Sooooo… cliff’s notes? Vlad Masters is a shady billionaire who uses some seriously unethical shit to make predatory deals with other rich folks to steal their fortune. We think he’s here to cement that flashy “b”, byyyy stealing your dad’s fortune,” he explained quickly, glancing around at the Waynes and adjacents he could see.

They did not look convinced.

Tim frowned, leaning forward on his knee and steepling his fingers.

“If you have proof of that, shouldn’t someone already be looking into him?” He asked contemplatively, eyes fixed on Danny’s face.

It was. Weirdly intense.

Fighting down discomfort, Danny shrugged.

“So remember when I said deeply unethical? Think like, mind control. He’s hard to investigate.”

“You make him sound like a supervillain,” Dick noted from the windowsill.

Sam raised a pointed eyebrow at him.

“Duh, we said “billionaire”.”

“Hey,” Tim protested, leaning around Steph to frown at her, “I’m a billionaire.”

She stared him dead in the eye while Steph snickered.

“I said what I said.”

“And you’re a millionaire,” he shot back sharply, eyes narrowing.

Sam didn’t blink.

“I work at a plant nursery my parents don’t approve of and pay my own tuition. My family are millionaires; I’m not,” she said plainly.

Tim puffed up his cheeks, but let them deflate silently. Jason definitely wasn’t smirking.

Cass leaned forwards suddenly, eyes darting around the room searchingly before settling on Sam.

“Masters. Your connection?” She asked softly, the others stilling to hear her.

Both of Sam’s brows rose, but she didn’t comment at hearing the other girl’s voice for the first time. She looked to Danny instead, raising an eyebrow.

Danny blew out a huff of air, ruffling his bangs.

“So… we… well…”

“He wants to fuck Danny’s mom and adopt Danny,” Tucker said bluntly, tipping his head back to hit Danny’s knees and grinning up at him.

Danny poked him in the forehead, but didn’t refute it.

“Yeah. So he’s kinda been my problem for a while. And he’s the mayor of Amity Park now? Is he still?” He asked, looking from one to the other.

Sam shrugged.

“Think so. I haven’t heard about anyone new.”

The Waynes and co were all kind of just… staring at them. Danny gave them jazz hands.

“And now he’s heeeeeere. He probably won’t make any moves if he knows I’m around, but we should keep an eye on him around Mr Wayne anyway.”

“And we can add him to the fuckery list, along with Sam’s parents,” Tucker added with a very satisfied smile.

It drew all eyes his way, ranging from intrigued to sceptical.

“How?” Steph asked, eyes bright.

Tucker waved a hand over the room.

“Black hair. Blue eyes. For one thing, Mr Drake-Wayne is even the same height, so if he sees you from behind, he could be confused. Dick’s not far off either. And best of all,” he added while the others did quick visual comparisons, decidedly smug, “we hint that Bruce is thinking of accepting Danny as an intern. Step one of Wayne Adoption.”

Sam’s eyes lit up with evil glee.

“Oh he’d do his fucking nut if you cozied up to someone richer than him, Danny,” she gasped, hands bouncing on her lap.

Danny hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Jason. Who was looking back, gears clearly turning. Seeing that he had Danny’s eye, he leaned in quickly.

“Vlad Masters would be Vlad Plasmius, yes?” He asked in a low voice. He’d scanned the database more than read in detail, but he knew the basics.

One very important basic.

Vlad was the other halfa.

And Vlad could sense other halfas. For a hot second Danny very nearly took off out of the room, ready to go find and kick Vlad’s ass and keep him far, far away from Jason.

He didn’t realise he’d clenched his fists until one of them was held in a large, hot hand. Slowly, shakily he uncurled them, checking for blood in the deep half moon crevices now dug in his palms.

Nothing. He was fine.

“Danny?” Jason asked softly, and Danny looked up to his face. There was something in his eyes, something familiar in the way they flashed a deep, sudden green when their eyes met.

Yeah, Jason’s Obsession was fucking definitely Protection, at least in part. Danny clasped his hand quickly, half worried Jason was gonna do just what he’d had to try so hard not to.

Would it have been that bad if Jason was just his friend, not his knight?

There was no way to know anymore.

Covering Jason’s hands in both of his, he gave Jason the best smile he could.

“I’m fine. But yeah, that’s him. And we… should probably also have a private word.” Because there was this sudden, very nasty little temptation curling through him.

“Would this private word have anything to do with Jason almost going full feral?” Dick asked with a studied innocence that had at least a master’s degree.

Which was when Danny noticed that the rest were all staring at them. At their clasped hands. At Jason’s still a little too green eyes.

**

Jason grimaced, fully aware of what they must have seen. He tamped the green down firmly, pushing against the wave of protect-protect-PROTECT the pit was damn near screaming inside him.

Wasn’t entirely sure it was only the pit.

Watching Danny tense up like that, clearly in the throes of fight or flight, pulled at something primal inside him.

Jason didn’t know who Vlad Masters was, what he looked like, what he was doing, but he was fully willing to throw him out of the building by the neck if Danny would relax even a little.

He threatens my king, something growled in the back of his mind and Jason’s hands jerked.

That was fucking new. And not fucking welcome.

He looked to Dick instead, giving him a strained smile. It was the best he could do right now.

“Yeah,” he admitted, not fully comfortable with how strained his voice sounded. How tight his throat felt.

Had the pit tried to use his mouth? Make him speak?

Just the thought made him want to puke, but he pushed that down too. He had shit to do today, and the pit wasn’t gonna ruin it.

“I told you he was helping me with the pit,” he added when Dick still looked calculatedly calm. Definitely not about to tackle him to the ground if he moved too suddenly.

Fuck Jason hoped Dick never tried. When they fought for fun, for training, sure Dick could hand him his ass six ways from Sunday. But when the green took over…

He didn’t want to hurt his brother. None of his brothers, ever again.

Except maybe a little bit psychologically.

“Fenton’s eyes changed too,” Damian said sharply, and oooh absolutely nothing in Jason liked that accusatory tone.

Not about Danny. Not about his king.

His head snapped around to glare at the youngest and knew his eyes had gone green again from the way the others recoiled. All but Sam and Danny. And Damian, suicidal little gremlin.

All but Cass, who slipped herself carefully but immovably back into his lap, hooking her feet into the backs of his knees and hands on his cheeks. Pinning him in place.

Making him look at her, not Damian.

She studied his expression intensely, her eyes saying more than even Dick could manage.

And there was a hand in his again, gently soothing across his fingers until his knuckles opened, and Cass let him look away to Danny. Doing just what Jason had done less than a minute ago.

Danny didn’t have to tell his secrets to anyone he didn’t want to. Not now, not the first time they met, not before he trusted them.

Anger-protect-not their business

And Danny smiled back, all gentle and soft, and Jason settled back, relaxing muscles he hadn’t noticed tensing.

Reassurance-calm-safe safe safe-trust

If Jason trusted them, Danny would too. And if that didn’t sting something right in his chest.

Danny cleared his throat, turning back to the rest of the room and giving them a slightly tighter smile.

“Yeah. I. Uh… I was exposed to the Lazarus pits? About a year before Jason was. So I know what it’s like when it gets too strong.”

Half truths at best, but close enough to be believed. To make sense.

Close enough that no one except Damian, tactless boy wonder, would ever ask.

“Only the dying can survive exposure to the pits,” the boy snapped, eyes sharp as he studied Danny in a new light.

Jason’s hands nearly clenched again, but this time Danny’s was in the way. Protecting Danny meant not crushing Danny’s hand.

Good loophole.

“The dying and the dead,” Danny agreed placidly, calm just barely tinted by amusement.

Jason closed his eyes, let himself focus on breathing in Danny’s aura.

Was that a hint of trouble-fun-plans plans mayhem?

Damian squinted at Danny for another long moment, then nodded sharply and sat back. Steph punched him.

“Damian, you can’t just go asking people if they’ve died,” she hissed in a comically loud whisper.

“It was relevant to the conversation!” Damian insisted, immediately sitting back up to defend his honour. Steph tweaked his nose and he properly growled, gearing up to tackle her.

“It was rude, Dami,” Dick coaxed gently, coming from the windowsill to the couch to scoop Damian into his arms.

The only one of them who could have done it and survived. Damian glowered up at him too, then folded his arms and scowled at the floor.

Dire retributions would surely be incoming.

“Hey, it’s cool,” Danny caused, grinning along with the others now that the tension had broken. “He just wanted to know I’m not gonna hurt Jason, right?”

All eyes turned back to Damian, who squinted suspiciously at Danny again. Jason was ready for the flare of protectiveness this time.

Danny was fine. He could handle the demon brat, even if Dick didn’t have him in hand already.

Jason didn’t want to hurt his brother.

Which caused a different, confusing flare of protectiveness because what he needed to protect Damian from was himself, and the self same flares.

He stifled a chuckle that would probably only make things worse.

Finally Damian huffed, turning away into Dick’s arms.

“Tt. Ridiculous. I only wished to be sure you spoke the truth,” he snapped, and the room resettled.

Danny raised both hands, grinning, and Cass shuffled to rest her ear over Jason’s heart.

“Okay?” She asked softly, moving her feet from his pressure points. Jason brought his other arm up and around her, squeezing gently.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks,” he replied just as quietly, resting his cheek in her hair.

“Well, this does also kinda simplify things,” Danny added with a chuckle, leaning back against the couch. “I can just tell all of you; Vlad’s also been ecto…. Pit contaminated. And we can sense each other, so he’s going to know Jason is too.”

That geared the bats back up, all turning back to stare at Danny. Who grinned utterly wickedly.

“So Vladdie gets to be on the rare and extremely valued double fuckery list.”

“Is he gonna try and do anything to Jason?” Steph asked sharply, posture tensing towards the door like it might open at any second.

Tucker shrugged, moving back to lean against the couch next to Danny’s legs. He’d wisely made himself scarce when there was a chance either halfa would make a break for it.

“Like Danny said, Vlad probably won’t try anything if he knows we’re around? He can’t do his mind control on Danny so he’s gotta keep it in his pants, even if he’d rather not.”

Sam brightened, catching on to where the boys were going.

“But because Vlad is like… Obsessed with Danny for being like him, there’s a chance he’ll wanna try and adopt Jason too,” she said slowly, her smile becoming full and wicked.

“And since we’re already planning to have me and Jason caught in some indelicate way to upset the Mansons,” Danny added, utterly self satisfied, “we can fry his brain thinking he can only adopt one of us.”

“And that’s after we make him play Find The Real Danny,” Tucker jumped in, grinning broadly, “because it’s not specific enough to track a single person in a busy room. Do you guys do accents?”

Tim and Dick exchanged glances and shrugged.

“Yours wouldn’t be hard,” Tim pointed out, a smirk pulling across his own face as he nodded to Danny.

“I’d like to know why we’re also fucking with the Mansons though?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam. Who shrugged.

“They refused to let me bring my girlfriend as a plus one. So we’re gonna ruin me for men and make them think twice next time.”

“Wait, so you’re not dating Danny?” Steph asked, proving she had been hovering during their little meet and greet.

None of the Amity Parkers seemed surprised. Not by her listening in, anyway.

Danny flushed cherry red, Tucker burst out laughing, and Sam smirked.

“Not since high school,” she said casually. Danny groped around for a throwable pillow but came up short.

For some reason, Jason felt absolutely no need to protect his king from some righteous bullying. Another fun loophole.

Must be the lack of potential stabbing.

Dick grinned suddenly, now leaning on the other arm of the couch from Tim.

“Okay, but we definitely don’t tell this part to Bruce,” he said eagerly, beckoning all the others closer. “If Jason’s job is to flirt with Sam and defile Danny, we were also here to meet Danny as Jason’s boyfriend.”

“Let Bruce think Danny’s leading you both on!” Steph finished, clapping her hands and cackling. “Oh it’s perfect!”

Sam cackled along with her, turning a much warmer smile on the other girl.

“Oh, my parents would love to trash talk Danny to him too, they’ve probably already hurried off to let him know I’m “eligible”,” she agreed with the most sarcastic air quotes Jason had ever seen.

Steph lurched immediately to her feet.

“We’re gonna miss it! Okay, so our first task is to make sure Vlad knows Danny is here, right? So he knows not to try anything on Bruce,” she added to confirm, looking between the Amity Parkers.

Danny frowned thoughtfully, touching his lower lip. Jason tried not to focus on it.

“He should know as soon as we get within proximity of each other… so probably once we’re both in the big room?”

Steph nodded sharply, turning to point to Tim.

“We need to know what he looks like. Can you get us a picture?”

Tim nodded, already tapping at his phone and rising along with Steph, the fire of planning in his eyes.

“On it. Sam and Jason need to be seen to be flirting, but Danny doesn’t have to be with them. Dick and I can wander through the crowd, keeping an eye out for Masters but keeping our faces turned away. Cass, can you help with that?”

Cass gave a thumbs up, sitting straighter and resting her head on Jason’s shoulder instead.

“Yes. Can be Dick’s eyes, signal you both.”

Tim typed a moment longer, then lowered his phone and wheeled, turning to point to Damian.

“And you should all have the photo… now. Damian, if you can get as close to Masters as you can, you can signal us too if he gets too close to Bruce or us.”

Damian nodded and glanced down at his phone, all ruffled feathers smoothing as he tucked it away and straightened his suit.

“I shall watch him for any suspicious moves. I can also run interference if he approaches Father.”

Steph nodded happily and clapped her hands, pointing both at Tucker.

“And you can join me in spying on the Mansons and recording them if they talk to Bruce, for the rest of us to enjoy later!” She declared triumphantly.

Tucker shot to his feet, grinning broadly.

“Yeah! And if they catch us we can tell them Jason and Sam are doing something, or ask if they’ve seen Danny,” he agreed, bouncing on his toes. He stuck a hand out in front of him. “Ready?”

Steph slapped her palm down on the back of his hand.

“Ready!”

The room now filled with purpose, everyone came to join Tucker, sticking their hands in in a circle, even as Damian complained about “ridiculous social rituals”.

No one else seemed to mind, tossing their hands into the air as they all whispered “BREAK!”, not wanting to be heard from the hallway.

As the room emptied, Danny hung back, catching Jason’s eye.

“So I know you’re probably not ready to talk about this,” he said softly as Sam lingered in the doorway, her back conspicuously to them, “but I just need to ask you if there was electricity involved when you died.”

Jason felt his whole body tense, less than pleasant memories rushing to the fore. Broken bones. A blade in his leg. Explosion.

No electricity.

He could see the strain on Danny’s face as his mind cleared, and shook his head.

“No. Why?” He asked warily, suddenly very concerned.

Danny made a face that did precisely nothing to lessen it, looking away.

“Because there was when I died, and Vlad knows it. And he… he can control electricity. But you’ll be fine, well, other than the usual “oh no a bad guy is shooting me with electricity”, right?”

Danny was babbling now, clearly trying to distract himself, but all Jason could see was pure, pulsing green. Before he knew he’d moved he had an arm wrapped firmly around slender shoulders, crushing Danny to his chest.

He didn’t need to be told that reminders of a ghost’s death wounds could be debilitating. He’d have known without the database. Without the catch in Danny’s voice.

“If he ever lays a fucking finger on you again I’ll fucking kill him,” he growled, his voice coming out almost as low as his helmet modulator.

Danny stiffened for just a moment in his grasp, then relaxed against him.

“I mean, I can handle myself,” he protested weakly, voice somewhat muffled in Jason’s jacket, “but I’m not gonna fight you on that one, Jay.”

It soothed something inside him, something hot in the center of his chest that burned at just the thought of anyone hurting the man in his arms.

Attacking him. Using the pain and trauma of his death against him. Attacking his king.

A gentle hand soothed up and down his spine.

Safe-protected-I’m okay-safe

It took a minute before Jason could bring himself to let go, smiling sheepishly down at Danny.

“Sorry. Guess I’m… uh, not used to dealing with anything other than rage from the pit,” he explained weakly.

It felt stupid, comparing something as soft as the urge to protect to those bloodthirsty rampages. That didn’t make it any less true.

Danny shrugged, rolling out his shoulders and grinning up at him.

“Hey, like I said. Shoulda seen me when I first changed. Anyway, shall we go make Vlad’s night a living hell?” He asked wickedly, a cheeky smile on his face.

Jason nodded and made for the door, giving Sam a small smile of appreciation. She looked between the two of them and snickered.

“Yeah, rumpling you both up in a closet’s gonna be easy breezy,” she said lazily, pushing the door open again. “You should trade ties.”

Danny’s hand flew to his throat and he chuckled softly, then shook both of his hands out.

“Okay… time to go make sure Vladdie knows I’m around,” he sighed, cracking his neck. Like he was limbering up for a fight?

Jason cocked a brow, taking Sam’s arm.

“What are you gonna do?” He asked as they moved out into the hall, back towards the ballroom.

Danny shot him a quick grin.

“Expand my aura to cover the whole room. He’ll know I’m flexing, and he won’t be able to miss it. Should help confuse him about Tim and Dick too, since the whole place is gonna feel like me,” he added, and Jason grinned.

Alright, that was gonna be a useful trick. Time to see that famous Ghost King aura put to the test.

He wasn’t really expecting to feel a change really. He was close enough that Danny’s aura was still brushing gently over his, soothing the pit that he was right there.

Ready and close if Jason needed to protect him.

And then Danny’s brows furrowed for a moment, he flexed his shoulders back, and Jason was surrounded in pulsing waves of DANNY-DANNY-DANNY.

He didn’t know he’d stumbled until Sam caught him, her hand small on his chest right over the thudding pulse of his heart.

He barely felt her touch. All he could see, all he could hear, all he could feel was the raw power surging out of the man beside him.

Feeling Frostbite in the Far Frozen had been overwhelming. This… this rewrote the beat of his heart, crawled with his breath into his lungs, curled around every deep and intimate part of himself.

It made him feel tiny and delicate, swept up and held off his feet by Danny’s sheer presence. Crowded and pushed up against the wall, held in place, and Danny wasn’t even fucking trying.

Everything was right in the world. His King was here. The pit fucking sang in his veins.

Aaaand Jason hadn’t been this hard in dress pants since he’d been an excitable teenager who couldn’t help it. Eyes closing, he swayed back against the hallway wall.

He could just barely feel Sam’s hand still on his chest, a grounding point as he sucked in deep breaths. Heard her snicker as the ringing in his ears began to die down.

“You’re getting better at that, Danny,” she noted, and Jason hissed.

This could have been worse? More? How?

And then Danny’s hand was at his shoulder too and he didn’t need to open his eyes to know it. Knew the touch, the feel, the way the pit surged warmth to the spot.

Heard Danny’s soft voice as though it were being broadcast straight into his head.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked quietly, and Jason honestly wasn’t sure.

Think about Bruce’s old underwear commercials. Jane Austen novels. Alfred’s expression if Jason ruined his good pants this fucking early into a party.

Later, maybe, it’d give a flare of authenticity but Danny almost certainly wouldn’t be down.

Danny. There was someone here who wanted to hurt Danny.

Jason’s eyes snapped open and he sucked in another deep breath. It was still redolent of Danny’s aura, still cupping him on every side, but he had a purpose now. A job to do.

He managed a slightly strained smile.

“‘M fine. It’s just a shock.” He cleared his throat, reaching down to tug at the front of his trousers as subtly as he could. “Is, uh… is it always like that?”

Danny looked confused for a moment, still concerned, but it was easier to miss the pulsing beat of his emotions now. Easier to focus.

He’d protect Danny’s feelings too, but he couldn’t do that if he was overwhelmed.

Who knew he’d be this into feeling like he was drowning in someone?

Finally Danny shrugged, glancing out towards the ballroom.

“I wouldn’t know… it doesn’t feel all that different to me. Just like everyone in the room is now inside my personal space,” he added, pulling a face.

Jason stared at him for a long moment, wondering how the hell he was going to ask. If he even wanted to mention the effects it had had - was still having, cleaning guns, Alfred in lace, Vlad was still here.

Nope.

Just. Nope. Not opening that can of worms today.

If Danny didn’t know that just feeling him all around him like that was gonna send Jason to horny jail, Jason was just never gonna tell him. And if Vlad had an even similar reaction, Jason would double kick his ass.

Hauling himself away from the wall, Jason cleared his throat again and fixed his jacket.

“Alright… I’m good. Shall we?” He asked Sam, offering her his arm this time. She gave him a quick up and down, raised a brow, but didn’t comment.

“Sure you are,” she chuckled softly, taking his arm with a reluctant half smile, turning back to Danny. “Are you gonna stick close, or do you wanna recon Vlad?”

Danny considered it for a moment, moving with them as they returned to the hall. Then he shrugged.

“I might go take a peek, but if I see your parents I’ll third wheel back on over. You guys should go mosey,” he added, waving a hand quickly.

Jason nodded, tucking Sam closer, turned back to the room, and… froze. Sam, utterly unaffected, made it a couple steps forward before she noticed and turned back, frowning.

“Hey, what’s up?” She asked in a low whisper, eyes flicking around them.

Good fucking question.

Jason closed his eyes, sucking in a slow breath and trying to work out what had shot down his spine like cold water. Brows furrowed, he tried to will his feet to move.

Took a step backwards and opened his eyes again, frowning back at Sam.

“Alright, I didn’t mean to do that,” he hissed, head turning automatically… to where Danny had taken a couple of steps away.

Green surged below his skin, asking what the fuck he thought he was doing. Abandoning his post. Leaving his king.

There was someone here who’d hurt him, who’d used his fucking death against him, and Jason was gonna what? Not be close enough to break his fingers for thinking it?

Eyes closed for a moment, Jason weighed the odds he could just push this down and keep going. Felt Sam tuck closer. They did have a whole ass plan…

Felt a sudden wash of concern-what’s wrong-protect from the surrounding warmth of Danny.

And sighed, shaking his head, pulling Sam with him after Danny. With each step the green sung, a deep satisfaction not his own rising inside.

He gave Danny a sheepish smile and a shrug.

“I don’t think I can leave you alone. Not if he’s here,” he added a little more quietly, well aware they were being watched once again.

Confusion flashed across Danny’s face for a moment, then he groaned and slapped himself in the forehead.

“Fucking Clockwork… alright, we stick together. Tim and Dick will have plenty of fun with Vlad anyway,” he said, grin slowly spreading again as he tucked himself in to Sam’s other side.

“And we can have more fun with my parents,” Sam pointed out innocently, scanning the crowd around them. Shot them both a sidelong glance each, half smirking. “And I get two lots of cute arm candy.”

Danny and Jason turned automatically to look each other over, Jason’s grin broadening as Danny’s cheeks flushed.

Dick had said he looked a treat in this suit. Must have been right about something.

Suddenly Danny’s aura was all very studious and concentrated nothing to see here.

Jason bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing, letting his eyes trail a little slower over his king’s frame.

Wherever Danny had gotten his suit from, they knew a thing or two about tailoring. It fit him well, emphasising the lean lines of his legs and torso. Didn’t quite square off his shoulders.

Jason still hadn’t had much practice with projecting his own emotions back, but he had the feeling his… appreciation got through when Danny’s blush darkened.

Grinning down at Sam, Jason patted her hand.

“Only if my code name’s Gummy Bear.”

A startled laugh from Danny was the reaction he’d been going for. Sam’s sudden, utterly wicked smile was a lot more concerning.

“Alright. Danny’s is gonna be Jawbreaker,” she decided, her gaze darting briefly down to Jason’s lips as she smirked.

Jason looked away quickly, his own cheeks uncomfortably warm as Danny choked.

***

Vlad Masters smiled to himself as he moved through the crowd, a shark among minnows. Their vacuous chatter was a soothing background noise; practically already the emptying of their pocket books.

Oh, he didn’t like to come to Gotham, not with that Bat that flapped around. The Bat didn’t like metas, or people who could do just a little more than curl up and die.

But, well, this had been an opportunity just too sweet to pass up.

He could dip his toes in Daniel’s new haunt, remind the boy that he’d never be too far away if he needed him. He could get a look at this son of Bruce Wayne’s, that had died and come back.

And just maybe he’d get a claw into Wayne Enterprises, and get a look at some of their latest technology for his own… uses.

Yes, Vlad was feeling productive just being here, even if he did have to keep his ghostly abilities on lock.

He drifted through the crowd, joining conversations, sniffing out weaknesses, moving on. Oh, some of these wealthy types thought they were hunters too, he could see it in their eyes.

He’d made his fortune by taking from those types of men and letting them see what true power looked like. It was much more satisfying to break a man who thought he was unbreakable.

Bruce Wayne wasn’t one of that type, but he had something that Vlad wanted. Still, the man seemed vacuous enough, all laughing and drink and flirting.

He’d handed control of his company to his teenaged son (and oh Vlad was a little jealous of him for thinking of that move… if only Daniel was more… pliable).

But Vlad could see himself letting Brucie keep at least some of his assets. The man was entertaining, and it’d show Daniel he’d listened.

He could change. In ways that weren’t too… inconvenient for him.

And then he’d have a shield in Gotham, and Wayne could deal with that meddlesome Bat, and he could pay Daniel a visit.

He’d just caught sight of his true quarry, standing in a small circle of fawning admirers when the felt the Presence flood the room.

It sent a shiver up his spine and he locked his knees, refusing to let any weakness show as the air filled with the heavy static of Daniel.

So the boy was here? Interesting. He’d have a chance to see his Little Badger even before he left the party.

He had seen the Mansons on the guest list and he had to wonder if the lad had finally gotten closer to his little goth friend. Close enough to be a plus one?

The elder Mansons would surely hate that, and make that hatred known. Unless Vlad were to… step in. Save the boy from their judgemental stares.

Remind them that Daniel may not be from a wealthy family, but he was still connected to the Masters name.

Yes, this was wonderfully good news and Vlad felt almost chipper, a spring in his step as he advanced on Wayne. Oh, the boy was flaring off, showing Vlad he had some power too, but Vlad wasn’t here to fight.

All he needed was to set up one simple meeting between himself and Wayne, and then all of tonight could be for his Little Badger. Imagine, Vlad Masters having the chance to play the hero.

He was most definitely looking forward to it. And ah yes, here they were, the Mansons already at Bruce Wayne’s elbow, chattering away.

Everything really was coming up Vlad.

**

Bruce had met the Mansons before of course, at other charity events across the country. They were… well, pretty much exactly the type of nouveau riche he kept his children away from at all costs.

Never impolitely, of course. Never letting on how their false smiles and honeyed lies made his gut squirm in distaste. He was always cordial, and could safely rely on the effect his smile had on both of the couple.

But they weren’t what you’d call close, even in gala circles, so it was something of a surprise when they sought him out.

“Ah, Brucie! There you are, good to see you,” the husband, Jeremy, called jovially as they approached, clapping him on the back.

Bruce gave them one of his better Brucie smiles, returning the gesture with a calculated firmness.

“Jeremy! Wonderful to see you,” he greeted them both exuberantly, eyes discretely scanning both to try and work out what they wanted. They always wanted something.

The wife, Pamela his mental rolodex said, simpered up at him, clutching at her husband’s arm.

“Of course we were simply delighted to hear that your son was found, we couldn’t possibly miss the party!” She gushed, letting her hand flutter over his. “You know, our Samantha is about the same age.”

Ah.

Well, that was a first. For Jason, anyway; Tim and Damian both had plenty of parents hopefully thrusting their children his way. Even Dick was subject to occasional propositions.

Jason had barely been his long enough to be considered eligible when he’d… well.

Bruce would mention it to Dick later, so his eldest could tease Jason about this latest milestone. Best not broach the subject himself.

He cranked the wattage on his smile down a little, looking carefully behind the couple.

“Yes, I believe I’ve met Samantha before,” he said genially, mind scanning through his gala notes.

Samantha Manson. Usually seen in elaborate pink and frilly gowns, always seen utterly despising them. Quiet, rebellious eyes.

At least Jason might find someone tolerable to talk to.

“Is she here tonight?” He finished, like he hadn’t personally memorised the guest list.

Pamela and Jeremy Manson. Samantha Manson. And plus one.

Plus one? Clearly someone the parents found less agreeable than Jason, and Bruce couldn’t help feeling sorry for the poor kid.

Jeremy was already nodding cheerfully, a sparkle in those eyes that put Bruce on edge.

“Oh yes, she’s off talking to your boy right now in fact,” he said with a very self satisfied chuckle, shooting Bruce a knowing look. “I think they quite hit it off.”

“Poor Jason was just telling us how few friends he has his own age, and of course Samantha would much prefer his company than being stuck with her parents,” Pamela trilled, giving Bruce a knowing look of her own, about three shades smuttier than her husband’s.

He could very, very easily believe that, even with as little time as he’d spent with the elder Mansons. Still, best not let them get their hopes up.

“How lovely! I’m sure Jason will keep her well entertained, he has his own plus one for the evening and he does thrive with an audience.”

He’d been expecting them to dim a little at the mention of a plus one, and if not maybe to delicately hint that the current partner was male.

Bruce might not personally know how serious Jason was in this new relationship, but he’d have his son’s back against any of the gala harpies.

He was not expecting them both to beam even brighter.

“Why, that’s the best thing!” Pamela beamed, clapping her hands. “His plus one, Tucker Foley, is Samantha’s very best friend! They’ve been close since high school, very close,” she added proudly, like she’d curated the friendship herself.

Bruce was beginning to think he’d have to mention he knew Samantha also had a plus one when Jeremy nodded happily.

“And of course Samantha brought along her other friend, Daniel from home too, so we were quite concerned the boys might run off together and leave our little girl on her lonesome, but your Jason really took a shine to her!”

Something sharpened in Bruce’s spine, catching at his attention.

“Daniel?” He asked, innocently as he could, and spotted Steph and a young Black man heading their way. Certainly she’d hang back to get more information. “Would I know him?”

Pamela’s face scrunched for a moment before smoothing back into a perfect, empty smile.

“Oh, I very much doubt it. The boy is from a rather disreputable family I’m afraid, very bad influences, but our Samantha has never shied from offering her hand in friendship.”

Bruce took a moment to compare this sentence to the young woman he remembered, barely covering seething resentment under a very similar empty smile.

Friendship. Yes, he could see her offering that to literally anyone her parents disapproved of.

But if this was the same “Danny” Jason was getting involved with, it was his fatherly duty to learn what he could.

He schooled his face to his best politely interested morbid fascination.

“Oh? Please tell me more.”

**

Steph and Tucker sped up as they caught sight of Bruce, Steph leaning in to whisper,

“Are those the Mansons talking to him?”

Tucker nodded, slipping around to the other side of her for partial cover.

“Yeah, that’s them… wonder what they’re saying, he looks so concerned,” he whispered back, and Steph snickered.

“That’s his “your problems are so fascinating tell me everything” face,” she explained quietly, turning to plant her back to the nearest small table.

This one held a small crystal sculpture that was probably supposed to symbolize something, but she wasn’t gonna look twice. Instead she slipped her phone out of a discrete pocket and hit record.

Tucker took a moment to admire the new tech, leaning around her with an intrigued smile.

“Oh, is that the new WayneTech phone? Can I see?” He asked, brightening up.

Steph grinned and shook her head, carefully angling it to point at Bruce and the Mansons without making it look intentional.

“Not the newest release, but the one before. Tim lost a bet so he had to give me some free upgrades,” she added when Tucker looked confused.

“But aren’t you one of the Waynes? Why would you be a release behind?” He sounded honestly dumbfounded and Steph hid a snicker.

He sounded like Tim every time she turned down one of Bruce’s toys.

“I’m really just a family friend, and I don’t wanna have to get a whole new phone every time Tim or his nerd team has a new idea. You can look later, I wanna catch what they’re saying,” she hissed and he reluctantly quieted, still looking at her like she was crazy.

Yeah.

Tim 2.0. She was gonna have to text Connor later.

Tuck pulled his PDA out and she half expected him to start recording too, but instead he pulled up a handy decoy screen so he could pretend to be showing her something.

And…

Tapped into the video currently being recorded on her phone. She raised a brow and he grinned back, tapping a few buttons and boosting the volume.

“There are some advantages to upgrading your tech,” he said smugly and pulled out a pair of earbuds, offering her one.

They pulled them out about five minutes later.

Steph clapped her hand over her mouth, fighting down giggles as she dropped the earbud into Tucker’s hand.

“Holy fucking shit to people still actually talk like that?” She hissed between her teeth. Tucker, also fighting laughter, stuffed the headphones back into a pocket.

“Yeah, honestly? My mom loves Saturday morning soaps and even she’d call that overplayed,” he snickered, shaking her head.

“You’d think Danny ate their fucking cat, what the hell happened there?” Steph asked, lips pressing tightly shut on another laugh as she made awkward eye contact with some passing guests.

“Honestly? Nothing, they just don’t like his parents, and that makes Danny a “hoodlum”,” Tucker rolled his eyes and grinned, flipping his PDA to a different channel, and then suddenly flipping back. “Aaaaand shit, that’s Vlad. This is gonna be good.”

Steph pulled the PDA quickly from his hands as he lunged back into a pocket.

“Quick, get them back, there is no way I’m missing this!”

**

Vlad couldn’t say he was honestly surprised to walk in on the Mansons telling some outlandish story that was almost all sly innuendo. It was why Pamela came to these parties after all.

What was surprising was the way Wayne’s face grew more and more serious as she spoke, painting a picture of Daniel as some kind of delinquent thug.

Which, to be fair, wasn’t an entirely inaccurate picture of the boy on his worse days, but hardly represented his best.

And if he reached into just a hint of ghostly stealth to come up behind her, well, watching Pamela Manson startle as he cut in with a well placed greeting was more than worth it.

“My, that does sound like a fascinating story Pamela! And you say this was young Daniel?” He asked, watching with satisfaction as both Mansons spun to stare.

“Brucie” gave him a sharp, almost assessing look too, much more thoughtful than he usually bothered with. Interesting.

Pamela brightened when she recognized him, beckoning him in.

“Oh, yes! Vlad, do join us, I was just telling Brucie here about some of those silly ghost adventures Daniel would pull Samantha into in high school!” She clearly expected him to join in.

Ah, but today Vlad’s role was to be Daniel’s hero, not Phantom’s nemesis. And maybe to see just what had managed to rub two brain cells together in Wayne’s famously amicable head.

He gave her a fond smile, nodding in greeting to the men and taking his place in their circle.

“Why, Pamela, I do hope you’re not disparaging my godson before Mr Wayne even has a chance to say hello?” It was a calculated guess, but honestly.

However Daniel got into this party (and he would put money on his dear goth friend Sam herself), he wouldn’t be introduced to the man holding the purse strings.

From the corner of his eye he also caught a very familiar red beret, and his brow quirked slightly.

Daniel, Sam, and Tucker Foley, all in one place. They must have heard he’d be coming.

How… adorable.

His smile spread as Pamela’s faded, even as Brucie turned to offer him a hand and a warm smile.

“Mr Masters, yes? I believe we’ve met at a few of these before,” the man said, all charm and sunshine.

Vlad shook the offered hand firmly, resisting the urge to just poke directly into his mind.

Tucker was listening. Best give him something interesting to report.

“Yes, I wasn’t aware you knew the Mansons too? One of our finest families in Amity Park,” he purred, giving them both an almost predatory smile.

Jeremy puffed up under it like it was actual praise, but Pamela was still watching him curiously.

“Oh yes, we’re going to be quite close,” she said airily, giving Brucie a secretive smile.

The man didn’t quite return it, the same friendly, open smile not changing in the slightest.

More interesting still.

“And perhaps you and I will be getting closer too, Vlad. Can I call you Vlad?” He asked, and Vlad’s smile widened.

“Of course. Is there something I should know?” He asked, half teasing.

Brucie’s expression flickered almost too fast to see. Something like actual thought under that big soft smile.

“It seems that my son Jason has been spending time with young Samantha and Daniel,” he explained, still sounding just the same cheery fool.

Vlad’s smile widened further, and he took a moment to reign himself in. It wouldn’t do for him to stretch too far. It could make people nervous.

“Oh, how wonderful!” He exclaimed happily, rubbing his hands together. “I was hoping to congratulate him personally on his return, it is quite a rare feat!”

And if Daniel was sniffing around him, that added credence to the rumours that the boy really had died. And possibly changed.

Now, if he could just speak to the young Jason alone, see how easily he could be swayed… if the boys were already friends, perhaps he could even plead Vlad’s case to Daniel directly.

Brucie gave him a dazzling smile, gesturing to Pamela jovially.

“Well, I certainly hope so! From Mrs Manson’s stories I was beginning to worry that Jason might be falling into some rough company.”

Vlad gave the woman a smile that would have chilled if he’d had Daniel’s ice core, but instead crackled with his own electricity.

“Oh, young Daniel may be a bit rough around the edges, but there’s no more loyal boy anywhere in the country,” he assured Wayne smoothly, and noted Tucker and the blonde girl he was with breaking away.

Off to report to Daniel, then. Good.

“Really, you can judge best when you meet him yourself,” Vlad all but purred, watching them go, “after all, you yourself know all about taking young men from rough circumstances and polishing them to a shine.”

Brucie’s smile was all proud paternal joy as he looked out across the room, and for a moment Vlad wondered how many of his interminable brood had actually come.

A young man was very suddenly at Brucie’s side and even the man himself seemed to startle, but his smile only grew as he clapped the boy on the shoulder.

“And here’s one of them now! Mr and Mrs Manson, Vlad, this is my youngest son Damian.”

The boy certainly had Bruce’s jawline, and the same wide eyes the press so loved, even if the eyes themselves were green. Any other similarities would be hard to spot as the boy fixed Vlad with a glare that could have been Daniel’s.

“Good evening,” he said curtly, and Vlad pressed his lips together to keep from chuckling.

“Why, such a stern young man!” Pamela cooed beside him, bending down to give her sweetest smile to the boy. Wilting just a little when he turned the glare on her.

Brucie’s hand tightened momentarily on the boy’s shoulder and his expression immediately smoothed out.

“I’m sure he’d much rather be off with his friends, but he was good enough to come tonight and support his brother,” Brucie explained cheerfully, giving Damian a proud smile.

“Wonderful to see young people who understand the importance of family,” Vlad nodded, keeping half an eye on the boy as he spoke. His eyes had narrowed just a little, probably looking for a patronizing tone.

At these kinds of parties, it’d likely be all he heard.

Still, Vlad settled in to make some idle small talk, whiling away the time until dinner. No serious business would be discussed until after the meal after all.

Perhaps he could persuade Brucie to introduce him to Jason.

**

It was Steph who zeroed in on Jason’s flash of white hair first, but Tucker who crashed almost directly into Danny and hissed the news.

“Vlad’s here and he’s complimenting you!”

Danny stumbled back to catch them both, staring in bewilderment.

“He’s fucking what?” He asked incredulously. Tucker nodded quickly, grabbing his elbows.

“Seriously, he basically told the Mansons to fuck off for badmouthing you,” he hissed, and now Sam was intrigued too.

“Vlad? Our Vlad? “Phantom is the greatest threat our city has ever known” Vlad?” She asked.

Danny elbowed her sharply and she rolled her eyes, but Steph definitely noted it down to ask later. Tucker nodded again, faster than before.

“Right? He’s definitely up to something.”

“Could be his new plan to win you over,” Steph added, closing the rest of the distance to tuck herself into the group.

Danny paused for a moment then grimaced and shook his head.

“Nah, it’s never that simple with Vlad. He knows I’m not gonna just hear some kind words and fall into his arms.”

Sam rolled her eyes, turning and firmly piloting their new cluster to one of the windows, out of the way of the less nosy eyes.

“Danny, it’s Vlad. He’s still convinced your mom just needs to be alone with him for five minutes to fall head over heels, no matter how many times she karate chops him.”

Which, yes, Steph was adding that to the questions list too, a smile tugging at her lips. She cut them off anyway, making pointed eye contact with Jason.

“Not that this doesn’t already sound fun, but I’m also pretty sure I just saw Selina Kyle,” she told him sweetly, and had the joy of watching him actually blue screen.

Just. Stared into space for fifteen seconds.

Then sighed and scrubbed both hands down his face.

“Of fucking course she is. Why not? Does anyone wanna call the Joker, see if he wants to join too?” He asked sarcastically, tossing both hands into the air.

Steph snickered and rose on her tiptoes to ruffle his hair, ignoring the confusion of their new friends.

“Hey, look at it this way. She’ll keep Bruce off your ass,” she offered cheerfully and Jason groaned louder, giving the window a speculative look like he was considering jumping out of it.

Tempting.

Sam leaned in, giving them both a sharp look.

“Who’s Selina Kyle?” She asked bluntly, and Steph paused for just a moment, wondering how best to put it.

How to describe the fucking disaster that was Batman and Catwoman to someone who couldn’t know either of their identities. Ah, yes, she knew.

“Bruce’s kleptomaniac ex-and-sometimes-current girlfriend. Every single conversation they have is riddled with innuendo and pussy jokes that she makes, and she’s been around since Jason was knee high.”

“So she’s got stories?” Tucker asked, eyes brightening as she twigged.

Jason turned and pointed his most menacing finger at him.

“She does not have fucking stories and you do not want to talk to her, she’ll steal the filings from your teeth,” he warned sharply.

Danny’s lips moved soundlessly for a moment and then suddenly the most wicked glee Steph had ever seen from anyone not a sibling lit his face.

“Jason… she has pixie boot stories, doesn’t she?” He asked in a low hiss, and Steph’s brows shot straight to her hairline.

Jason had only ever willingly worn pixie boots for one reason. Guess things with Danny were serious serious.

So how much had Jason told him?

From the way he was now glaring warningly at Danny, and Sam was rounding on Jason with intrigue, glee, and a complete lack of understanding, it was just Danny for now.

“We’re not talking to or about Selina,” he hissed, crowding up into Danny’s space and ooooh Steph wasn’t too worried about their mutual secret to miss that cute little blush on Danny’s cheeks.

Which also didn’t stop the man himself from grinning up at Jason, even if he did have to crane his neck back to do it.

“Does she have pictures?” He asked with a genuinely wicked glee that Steph just adored.

“Pictures of you in pixie boots?” Sam cut in, crowding up to Jason’s other side.

And now Jason’s cheeks were flushing red.

“They were in fashion at the time!” He defended weakly, and Steph had to laugh at that.

“Yeah, them and mullets,” she cackled and Jason shot her a scowl too.

“Weren’t you guys supposed to be keeping an eye on someone?” He asked sharply, changing the subject like that had ever worked.

Didn’t work on Tucker either apparently, and Steph liked that in a man as the Black guy gave Jason that pure and innocent smile.

“Yeah, Bruce and the Mansons, but that part of the show’s over. Damian’ll let us know if anything happens,” he dismissed easily, and Jason scowled.

Steph braced herself for the flare of green, especially when it had already been so close tonight, and was almost shocked when it didn’t come. When was the last time Jason had glared so much without it?

Maybe Danny did know what he was doing.

The rest of their families’ secrets notwithstanding, she decided that for the moment she had to approve.

It’d be subject to change, a bat never planned against new intel, but for now? She liked Danny. He was honest, easy going, and made her brother blush in ways she’d never seen before.

There were clearly secrets, but he’d dropped a big one on them already with his own Lazarus exposure. Secrets never lasted long in this family anyway, but Steph could wait on digging for these.

She had much more important things to do, like tease Jason mercilessly.

For now, she popped up on his other side to press a kiss to his cheek and ruffle his hair again.

“Well, I’m gonna go find Dick and let him know Selina’s around. Tucker, do you wanna find Tim? If he has you beside him Vlad’s way more likely to be confused,” she added innocently.

Like Tucker’s eyes hadn’t always lit up at the chance to hang out with Tim. She’d be offended if she hadn’t also seen the appeal.

The smirk Sam shot her meant the other girl definitely knew what she was doing, and Steph took a moment to grin back.

Yeah. Getting Sam Manson’s number before the night ended, preferably willingly. Girls gotta stick together, and mercilessly bully their mlm besties.

Tucker hesitated a moment longer, clearly also dying for pixie boot stories, but in the end his nerdery won. Surprising no one.

“Yeah, we’ll go spread the word,” he agreed dramatically, like it was all down to him. Then he pointed back at Jason, utterly unintimidated by a full mountain of muscle. “But I want pictures too!”

“No one’s getting pictures,” Jason said firmly, and Steph danced carefully out of earshot.

“I know where Alfred keeps the scrapbooks,” she called in a sing song voice, and was a little surprised not to even feel anticipation when Jason lunged at her.

Teasing him was usually a careful game, something she had to put her mind into. Watching the pit, calculating his limits, ready to fully run if he broke.

But he was so fun to tease, and it felt… yeah. Nice to wind him up like Dickie or Tim, or Bruce himself. Nice not to be prepared for a sudden attack.

It wasn’t like she’d have ever stopped if he had lashed out anyway.

Danny was good for him, for whatever reason. She shot them both finger guns, heading back for the middle of the room.

“Try not to get into anything scandalous,” she called, loud enough to turn a couple heads. Which would only help their primary, Manson related plans.

Jason flipped her off while Tucker hurried after her, chuckling to himself.

“So, scrapbooks?” He asked hopefully, and Steph shot him finger guns too.

“Not tonight, but it’s happening. We need a group chat.”

“We so fucking do.”

**

Bruce was not having a fun evening.

He’d been happy Jason had found a guest to bring. Over the moon, really. He needed a life outside of his crimes.

Less happy that Jason had held out on the name of his guest, only sending it when Bruce would be too busy to properly investigate, but he couldn’t exactly blame him.

Bruce knew he could be paranoid and overbearing, his kids made sure to remind him constantly. And Jason deserved privacy.

But it had quickly become clear that “Tucker Foley” and “Pit Helping Danny” were not the same person. Whoever Jason wanted to introduce them to, it wasn’t just his mystery date.

Fortunately one had led neatly to the other, the Mansons revealing the trick quite by accident. And they’d known a lot more about Real Danny too.

None of it predisposed Bruce well to the boy.

Apparently he was reckless, lazy, trouble prone, unmotivated, and a very bad influence.

It felt fucking stupid when he knew full well that Jason was a crime lord and official serial killer, but Bruce just didn’t want him to get into any more trouble.

And if this Daniel Fenton was still half the boy the Mansons knew, there was a whole other world of shady exploits he could be dragging Jason into.

Ghost hunters. Really.

Everyone knew about Amity Park’s “ghost problem”; a cheap way to drum up tourist dollars, just like Bigfoot sightings.

They’d tried calling the Justice League out more than once, but Constantine had marked it as a no fly zone. Which meant there was nothing supernatural there worth bothering with.

The regular Justice League had no time for claims of magical mayhem.

Vladimir Masters had been interesting too, both on the Amity Park perspective and in news about Danny.

As the boy’s godfather of course his opinion could be biased, but according to him Danny was a loyal, kind hearted young man. Still rough and tumble but hardly dangerous.

And he’d been right; Bruce had plenty of experience with that type of young person. He’d soon be able to tell just what this Fenton was.

But Masters could be a useful source there, both for information and potentially sympathy. He’d seemed to understand Bruce’s concerns quite well.

Perhaps after dinner he could catch up with the man again. Make some plans, a meeting somewhere a little more private, where his children wouldn’t all be listening in.

He didn’t want to give them the impression that he didn’t trust Jason to handle himself.

He was just.

Concerned.

Jason hadn’t been himself since before they’d buried him, tangled in that mess of his birth mother. He’d done terrible things, but he’d been lost.

Bruce would do all he could to help his boy find himself again, even if that meant taking a more subtle approach. He wouldn’t let Jason be taken advantage of.

Meeting with Masters would have to wait, however, because as they’d been chatting he’d caught sight of an unfortunately familiar slinky black dress.

He’d excused himself from the adults and slipped past Damian with a meaningful look, and followed her trail through the crowds.

She slipped through easily, winding between people and Bruce could easily guess just how many would be finding their pockets all the lighter for it.

He had to go a little slower, his broad shoulders making him more noticeable and kept him from her tighter squeezes, but she couldn’t avoid him forever.

For one thing, she clearly didn’t want to. He finally caught up at the foot of the stairs to the entrance, turned away from him to admire the lion statue at the base of the banister.

“Bruce,” she greeted without turning, leaning back and just knowing where he’d be. He hated being predictable, and yet… he couldn’t disappoint her.

“Selina. I didn’t realize you were coming.” He’d checked the guest list twice today, but there were always so many plus ones. He hadn’t invited her, but that’d never stopped her before.

She tipped her chin up to smile at him, hearing every unsaid word.

“And miss young Jason’s return? Why Bruce, I’ve known the boy almost as long as you have, I’m happy to see him alive and well.” It was a gentle reprimand, and for a moment he wondered if she’d expected an invitation.

If he should have asked Jason if he’d like her there. But then, which of his children had ever liked it when Selina came around?

Not least because she always broke the rules, and he always found himself letting her. Never the most important, never the one Jason broke, but…

Selina wasn’t his weakness, he didn’t have one. But she was a distraction.

He smiled back, calculated, charming. The one she liked to see in public.

“Of course. Have you seen him?” She might have valuable insights into Jason’s condition, though she’d refused to get involved since his… original return.

Not getting caught in family squabbles. He’d always liked that about her.

She hummed softly, leaning more of her weight into his chest, hand reaching up over her head to caress his chin.

“Not yet, but I’ll say hi eventually. Rumour has it he’s growing quite the harem,” she purred, and Bruce damn near choked.

Harem? Jason?!

“Oh?” Was all he managed, and even then he knew she heard the strain when he felt a low chuckle rumble through her back.

“Word has it the young Samantha Manson and her own date are both all over him. Poor boy, and his own plus one is being borrowed by half the Waynes. What have you been teaching those boys?” She teased, fingertips running just shy of his lower lip.

Definitely feeling where it puckered slightly into one of his minimal frowns. Nothing he’d heard about this “Danny” was setting him at ease.

Still, best not to let anything too real show.

“He’s always been good at making friends,” he allowed, gaze now scanning the rest of the room for his son.

Selina chuckled again, finally stepping away and turning to face him, giving him an appreciative once over.

“Now that’s a lot tamer than what I heard. I’ve heard that they’ve already bustled off to the back rooms, and reemerged en déshabillé,” she purred, and Bruce tensed.

Jason wouldn’t. Not with a stranger. Not at a gala.

True, it wasn’t on the (long, extensive) list of forbidden gala behaviours, but that was because it didn’t have to be.

Jason didn’t like following any of his other rules.

Jason was an adult. Bruce wasn’t… a fool. He was aware that quite a few of his children had grown up. And may, possibly, in an abstract way, have a sex life.

He didn’t like to fucking think about it at the best of times, but Jason? Who couldn’t control himself, who had those unpredictable rages?

No, he did not like that thought at all. His face must have set into stern lines because Selina’s hand was on his cheek again, brushing like she could smooth them out.

“Now now, Bruce. He’s twenty-two. Remember what you were like at that age?” She cooed, and that really didn’t help.

“That’s different,” he growled, keeping to the Brucie ranges with the iron control he’d prided himself on. The control Jason lacked.

Selina examined his expression for a moment longer then shook her had, patting his face just barely shy of being a slap. He caught her hand, gaze whipping round to focus on her again.

Just what she’d wanted, of course.

“Darling, you can’t stop him. You two are on rocky enough ground as it is, hmm?” She reminded him gently, voice low.

His grip tightened on her wrist, gaze flashing across her person.

“And if I searched your pockets right now, how many stolen rocks would I find on your person?” He asked equally quietly. Not changing the subject.

Just a good question.

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, then her lips curled into a smile and she stepped closer.

“Well if Jason’s left the back rooms free, you can search me as closely as you’d like,” she purred, pressing herself to him from shoulder to thigh.

And definitely felt him twitch in annoyance, grip tightening again. He forced himself to let go, step away, before his reactions could betray him further.

“Enough, Selina. Why are you really here?” He asked sharply, carefully balancing the line between Brucie casual and the answers he wanted.

She looked him over for a moment more then shook her head, half smiling.

“Touchy touchy. I’m here to give my best wishes to Jason, darling. Nothing more. And if some of these jumped up little pheasants find their tails a little lighter for it, I don’t think you really care, do you?” She asked rhetorically, turning away to slink back into the crowd.

Bruce considered following her. Pushing for more, working out what she really wanted.

It could wait until he’d checked the back rooms. Or found Jason. Whichever came first.

—————

Part 2!

[hellfirexhoe]

Death of Me - Chapter 3: There’s A Girl

Chapter 3 | Series Masterlist

2.3k words

Warnings: 18+ content, minors are not welcome. Pregnancy, hurt/comfort, Eddie being an idiot

Taglist : @hellomothermoon @tlclick73 @likedovesinthewnd @bebe0701 @dotslabyrinth @e0509 @steamystrangerfics @zeedramallama @alana4610 @tyelikesbees @elyssa-writes @wheaty-melon @thegirlwhohides @mxcheese @witchofhawkins @munsonsgirl71 @sammararaven @joejoequinnquinn @hellfire-puppet @micheledawn1975 @averagemisfit03 @edsforehead @thehuntresswolf @a-hopeless-fan @bimbobaggins69​

(regarding the taglist, I’m having trouble adding some users, if you have requested to be on the taglist and don’t see your username please give me a nudge and I’ll do my best to figure out why the taglist isn’t letting me add you!)

Your mother, concerned you were isolating yourself, had taken it upon herself to take you to an early pregnancy class for young mothers. Lucky for you, it was the first session today so you could meet everyone instead of being able to skulk around at the back.

“It’s like a fucking AA meeting in there!” You hiss at your mother from the door,

“How would you know?” She ushers you into the room, taking a seat in the circle beside you.

It’s excruciating. You’re the youngest there by far, and catch more than a few disapproving stares, having to listen to these couples in their 20s gush about how excited they are for their miracle. When it’s your turn to introduce yourself you have no idea how you’d even begin to explain the situation, so you choose awkward humour.

“Guess I’m in this group because I don’t know how condoms work.” A few courtesy chuckles from the group, mostly men, while their partners look at you with pity. You make a few attempts to get up and leave when the conversation isn’t razor focused on you, but every time your arm is gripped by your mother and you are pushed surreptitiously back into your seat.

Dustin was running between rooms in the hospital a lot these days. Visiting Max, reading to her with Lucas and chatting about his day to her, waiting for her to tell him that his days are boring and to just let her sleep. One day, he’s sure, she will. Then he’s running across the hall to Eddie’s room, which is becoming a lot more chaotic than Max’s. 

Ever since he woke up he’s been planning how he’s going to leave Hawkins. Growing ever more frustrated with his confinement as the days pass, stressed that someone will recognise him and give him up. Dustin opens the door slowly, a little apprehensively. He’s surprised to find Eddie sitting on the bed as he scribbles furiously in a notepad, chewing the end of a pen until his lips are stained blue.

“Hey Eddie.” Dustin approaches, unsettled by this Eddie, who looks calmest he’s been since he awoke. Eddie offers his friend a small smile,

“I’ve been an asshole lately haven’t I?”

“Well… you haven’t been the friendliest…” Dustin offers, far more graciously than Eddie could ever think he deserves.

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing personal. It’s just been kinda stressful being cooped up here.”

Dustin nods and shrugs the apology off, he understood Eddie, he didn’t need the apology.

“Listen, I’ve got another favour I need from you, okay?” Eddie looks a little uncomfortable, like he’s afraid he’ll be asking too much.

“That depends on what it is…”

“There’s a girl,” 

Dustin interjects, “Yeah? That’s Robin, oh my god are you okay? Did you lose your memory?!”

Eddie bites back a laugh, “Okay, not Robin.” Dustin opens his mouth, “And not Nancy either. My memory is just fine.”

Dustin frowns, “Then who’s the girl? You don’t talk to girls! You barely look at girls!”

Finally, you are granted sweet freedom from your mother’s ideas, you get into the car with her and give her instructions to your next destination. She purses her lips disapprovingly but this was part of the bargain of getting you out of the house. 

You pull up at the trailer park a few minutes later, you rummage in your purse for the directions Wayne had given you, this park wasn’t laid out as simply as Forest Hills and you wonder if it might have been easier to have asked him to draw you a map.

Finally you find yourself at Wayne’s trailer, and once you’re invited in you recognise the smell of cigarettes that Wayne smokes and Eddie steals from him. But the scent is lacking, it feels like a gut punch when you register that the reason the smell is lacking is because there’s no “Eddie” smell. 

Wayne notices this, “It doesn’t feel right without him, does it?” You shake your head, sniffing back tears, determined not to cry this time.

“Okay, well let's not be miserable bastards here. I’m taking you and my future great-niece or nephew out for lunch.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to, I know you must be tired from working.”

“It’s not like I sleep much anyway kid, come on.”

Wayne won’t take no for an answer as he leads you out of the trailer, he shuts down your protests in the car with a simple,

“It’s what Eddie would want. He’d want someone to look out for you, the both of you.” You slump back, he’s got you there. You arrive at a nearby diner, where you’re instructed to order whatever looks good, Wayne himself opting for a burger and black coffee before excusing himself to the restroom.

When your order arrives Wayne quirks an eyebrow,

“So those pregnancy cravings are kicking in right about now?” 

You follow his gaze to the extra 5 pickles you requested on the side of your burger in place of a salad, and laugh,

“What gave me away?” 

You and Wayne spend the hour in your booth, Wayne telling you stories about how much of a monster Eddie was as a child, and you listening, understanding, and loving Eddie all the more for the stories Wayne shared. Though your favorite had to be how Eddie tried to sneak into the trailer while ditching school, Wayne had sat on the sofa and watched for a good 15 minutes as Eddie tried to pick the lock before deciding to open it for him, making the young boy jump out of his skin while Wayne just laughed.

“‘Course that was before he came to live with me.”

“Eddie, are you sure there’s no head injury that the doctors need to know about?”

“No, Dustin, I’m fine.” Eddie is a little frustrated, this back and forth has been going for a while now, and it's becoming almost insulting.

“Okay because what you’re saying is a little,” Dustin pauses to shrug and purses his lips, “A little unbelievable.”

“Oh sure, people floating in mid air, a tentacled dust monster, fuckin’ demon bats trying to eat me alive that’s all fine and believable. But me having a girlfriend? That’s the part you’re struggling with?” There’s a tiny hint of teasing in Eddie’s tone, not trying to upset Dustin.

“No, it's not the girlfriend part I’m struggling with. It’s the part where your girlfriend is not only a cheerleader but also pretty much the meanest one, who looks at you like she wants to kill you.” Dustin can recall at least 5 different occasions on different days where your glare at Eddie had chilled him to the bone, and he wasn’t even the intended recipient.

“Hey, kill and kiss are only one letter apart.” 

Dustin snorts, 

“And besides,” Eddie adds, “Maybe I like the mean ones, especially when the mean ones are so very hot.”

“Too much info dude.” Dustin screws his face up, a little grossed out. He goes to ask a question but Eddie gestures for him to be quiet as they hear footsteps approaching the door. They both tense up, half expecting police officers to come busting through, they are relieved when Steve appears, frowns now deep set in his forehead.

“Busy day at the office?” Eddie jokes, hoping to ease some of those wrinkles.

“Sure, Family Video is doing great, cracks to hell really boost sales.” Steve drawls sarcastically,

“Well, get this Steve. Eddie has a girlfriend.” Dustin receives a swift, soft, slap on the arm for this.

“This is no time for jokes, Dustin.” Steve shakes his head at Dustin, disappointed mother hen written all over his face.

“Okay fuck both of you guys.” There’s no malice in Eddie’s tone. Even he has to admit it’s a little funny. The back and forth continues for a little, boosting the mood in the room.

Eddie eventually returns to his notebook, his 5th attempt now to explain to you why he's leaving. How sorry he is. How he wants you to move on because you could do so much better than him. He figured it would be easy enough to do it this way, not have to stare into your eyes as he breaks your heart. He's not relishing in this, truthfully it's tearing him up on a level about on par with those bats, but he can't bear the thought of you looking at him with any kind of pity, or staying with him because you feel bad for the poor maimed freak. 

He stops writing again, furious scribbling over his words. Either way he handles this it's going to be shit. He could let you think he's dead, that would give you closure, but then what happens years down the line when you bump into him in a grocery store? This option, telling you the truth, is equally shit. Tell you that he's alive, and so in love with you that he would gladly drag his balls through broken glass if you'd just ask, but that he can't be with you because he's terrified he'll put you in harm's way. Terrified he is somehow compromised by rabid demobat bites. Terrified that even if that's not the case that he'll just end up like his father, that'll he be a mean drunk, a shitty husband.

Nancy is trudging alongside one of the large fissures, having followed it from its origin at Eddie’s trailer, right to the centre of town. Her toes aching in too-tight boots, counting every step she takes, trying to see if the cracks had got bigger, or changed in any way. As far as she could see, they remained unchanged. She's not sure which would be more disturbing, the cracks seemingly lying dormant, or the cracks getting bigger.

Robin had volunteered to come along and "help" but the help Robin was currently providing was limited to freaking out about whether or not Vickie had been flirting with her when she pointed out her laces were undone. Some things never change, Nancy mused as she peered down into the crack, certain she had heard a faint chittering emanating from there once Robin had stopped for a breath. When Robin's spiel didn't restart once she had her breath back, Nancy glanced up at her face.

Robin had heard it too.

"That's… that's not good is it?"

Nancy shakes her head, patting her waist to check her revolver is still by her side. The chittering gets louder, but it becomes clear that whatever is making the noise is on its own. And then it all goes silent, deathly silent, so silent that Nancy can hear her own heart beating in her head.

Silent until a bat rips through the fissure, screeching, Robin’s reaction stuns Nancy into silence, seemingly without thought, Robin grabs hold of the bat and snaps its head in one clean motion.

"Thanks." Nancy smiles wryly as Robin drops the bat back into the fissure.

"Son of a bitch tried to eat our friend." Nancy nods at this, shivering as the image of Eddie covered in so much blood comes to mind, she shakes her head as though she’s trying to forcibly shake the image from her memory.

"We need to tell Steve about this, we know we injured Vecna and it's only a matter of time before he's back to full strength. The bat could have been a message."

You had never known Nancy Wheeler or Robin Buckley to be close friends, or even acquaintances, so it seems a little odd to you, as you peer from the window of Wayne's car, that they would be involved in what looked to be a very intense conversation as they stood over one of the fissures the earthquake had caused. 

"I wonder if they're secretly dating." You muse as the car passes them. 

Wayne had insisted on driving you home from lunch, saying he didn't want to put your mother out by having her come to collect you. The drive is fairly quick, most of the Hawkins residents who remained were now familiar with the various diversions around the town to avoid the worst of the damage. You're grateful for that, you had seen some of the worst of it, and knowing that Eddie's body, having been deemed unrecoverable, was lying somewhere in that wreckage was too much to bear. 

Once you are home, Wayne gives you a small wave and heads home, you catch him yawning as he reverses, confirming your suspicion that he had stayed up to take you out for lunch. You drudge up the stairs, after a small exchange with your mother, and head to bed, ready for a food coma nap. You've taken to wearing Eddie's shirts to bed, there's the faintest trace of his smell still on them, which is either a testament to your pregnancy nose or just how ingrained the smell is into his shirts. Or both. 

You sink under covers, wrapped in a shirt that smells like Eddie, you lull yourself to sleep with the thought of Eddie beside you, nose buried in your hair, arms holding you flush to his body. For once it is a dreamless sleep you fall into, waking up when you hear the sound of your closet being opened. Your mother is trying to put your laundry away as quietly as she can and failing. You grumble slightly as you stretch out, feeling cool air hit your feet as they leave the warmth of your bed covers. 

“Sorry.” 

“ ‘s okay, can’t sleep too much now or I won’t sleep tonight.”

Your mother perches on the end of your bed,

“Can I ask you something?” You nod, fisting sleep out of your eyes. “How come you don’t see your friends anymore?”

You chew your lip, unsure of how to answer,

"Sweetheart, I know you’re grieving. And I know that it's not the same for them, but they lost Chrissy, same as you did. It might be helpful for you to spend time with them, to grieve with them.”

“I’ll try.” Your mother smiles and pats your leg under the covers,

“Thatta girl.”

[joyswonderland1108]

This fucking fandom

Ah fuck i can’t even fucking get sick in peace!! Just when i allow myself to rest a bit from posting shit happens and i find myself coming back here to rant or whatever i should call it at this point.

So the other day i was writing a post as a follow-up to this post : 

But i just deleted it, i was like uh yeah maybe i’m being a bit too harsh.. WRONG!! I knew this fucking fandom didn’t deserve no pity, my bad i should’ve just posted it. 

So in my follow-up deleted post i was saying how i didn’t want anyone to come to me with that bullshit excuse of “But we’re streaming, we’re basically working hard for those achievements to happen so why won’t Letter be about Army since we work hard for him” and honestly this is where the entitlement comes from. Some people believe that just because they stream, buy and post that means they have all the rights of ownership over the members, yes OWNERSHIP.

I then carried on by explaining how not everyone who fought to get Jimin on top wasn’t necessarily because they love him but for some they just wanted one member of BTS to be on top out of pettiness towards other fandoms and they needed to flex, didn’t matter which member as long as it’s a BTS member who will keep BTS’s name superior, and it so happened to be Jimin this time. 

Now you may wonder why tf am i bringing up a post i actually ending up deleting or actually didn’t even post? Well with Yoongi’s upcoming release.. I don’t even need to say it now do i? I guess you’re pretty much getting what i’m trying to say but let me just put words out here. 

I’m not here to talk about how close Yoongi’s release is to Jimin’s, this is something they probably went over with each other and with the company it has nothing to do with me or us or anyone else can’t really say much about it but what i can talk about is Army’s hypocrisy. When i posted about Yoongi’s D-Day announcement i clearly mentioned that I personally along with some other Army i know would either try to find or make a Yoonmin focused playlist, since Jimin promo period was cut short, we still wanted to keep pushing it while still streaming for Yoongi. 

Now what is happening is mfrs who are dropping Jimin completely to focus solely on Yoongi. When Smf pt2 dropped and the whole FACE album released, playlists were still encouraging streams for Smoke Sprite and On the street, we were still trying to keep the boys at higher ranks doing the effort to do a proper streaming for Jimin all while not dropping any other member. 

Now those people do realize that Yoongi will have his album trending from now till June, while Jimin won’t necessarily be able to still keep up with a proper promotion schedule because that would be interfering with Yoongi’s release, and fucktards couldn’t even bother keeping up with streaming or at least think about a Yoonmin playlist too. It infuriates me how for me despite being Jikook biased i’m still willing to do as much effort for Yoongi as i did with Jimin because i’m OT7 after all but assholes out there pretending to be OT7 yet became completely blinded. 

And for some fucking reason Jimin or Jikook biased Army (not solos) are all so excited for D-Day and preparing to stream for both, so tell me why tf can’t other Army do the same thing? Was messing with that one other fandom all it was for them? “Let’s get Jimin that #1 to piss them off” is that it? He worked his ass off to share something very personal with us, shared his struggles, a deep and dark part of himself just for Army to treat it as a threat to other idols and fandoms? 

I swear this motherfucking fandom is toxic and unhealthy, as Joon said “You changed” Aka you fucking suck! I don’t even know how to put anymore words i’m just trying to recover but God fucking dammit!

[showtoonzfan]

Look I’m open to fan interpretations, but people REALLY need to stop excusing Angel for his trauma, or automatically assuming everything he does is because of his trauma, especially when the pilot failed to even showcase his other sides and what he was going through, since Viv would rather waste the majority of his dialogue and screen time on fan service or sex jokes than actually fleshing him out properly instead of a 2 second sad glance. It’s gotten to the point where fans are mixing fanon with canon, and either seeing things that aren’t there, or speaking too early.

I remember seeing a tweet of someone expressing how they thought Angel was annoying because of these sex jokes and being hyper sexualized, and someone responded by saying that he probably acts like that because of Val, aka a trauma response. Even though this is a REAL thing, fans fail to realize that it was NEVER indicated that Angel dust is the way he is because of Val, it was never even said, because I’m sorry, it’s just not true. Angel doesn’t act all flirty and open because of his trauma, he’s acting like that because his character is supposed to be that of a proud gay man who’s finally free to be open and be himself, especially since the 40’s (you can imagine) weren’t welcomed to that. Viv has described his character many many times before, but that was confirmed to be the main reason behind it, so I have no idea where people are getting the trauma response thing. Fans also fail to realize that if this WERE the case, then as I’ve said in the past, his hyper sexuality shouldn’t be painted in a positive light. If he’s acting like this solely because of what his pimp does to him, then we shouldn’t be laughing at his jokes. However, none of that matters because that’s so obliviously not the case with Angel’s character.

Another take I’ve seen that I’ve discussed recently is that people seem to think that the reason Angel is such an asshole and ungrateful to the two people who housed him and took him out of a toxic living environment, is because he doesn’t “trust” them fully and needs time to warm up to them. I could actually believe that, had the pilot portrayed him differently when he’s around Charlie and Vaggie, but it didn’t. In the pilot Angel is so CLEARY comfortable around Charlie and Vaggie. In the limo scene he’s completely relaxed and playful with them, despite being nonchalant about what he’s being scolded for he’s not afraid to crack jokes or show his joking side, and it’s clear that he’s not even intimidated by the two, after all, HE’S the one taking advantage of them, only joining the Hotel for the free rent. Had Angel acted cold to them, not even wanting to talk to them or engage with them, giving them the silent treatment or cold shoulder, THEN it would make more sense, but that’s not what happened. Even in the comic where he first met them, Angel was relaxed and not afraid to laugh in their faces and ridicule them. I think it’s more because Angel knows how naive Charlie is, Vaggie may yell at him or get on his back with the hotel rules, but at the end of the day Angel knows they’re not going to do shit. Viv legit confirmed that Charlie punishes patrons like children, so Angel can practically do whatever he wants because Charlie is too nice to kick him out or put her foot down.

Then we have the ending of the Addict MV that makes everything more complicated because to me it felt like Angel got retconned. Like I said before, Viv seems like she doesn’t really have the relationship dynamic down yet, between how Angel treats Charlie and Vaggie. She seems unsure about wether she wants Angel to be someone who doesn’t like these two at all and doesn’t trust them with his life, or sees them as not friends yet, but people he can have fun around and joke with, only distancing himself with his vulnerability. Does he like them? Does he hate them? Is he comfortable around them or not? That’s why the “he doesn’t trust them” take doesn’t work because not only are fans pouring more layers onto him than he already has and seeing something that isn’t there, but even Vivziepop doesn’t know right now, we’ll have to wait for the show to come out to see how he interacts with them and how he views them, because right now it’s kinda jumbled and you can’t have both.

The obvious elephant in the room however is just that y’all see this character as a child and baby him immensely. Angel is a full grown adult, he’s a fucking Italian mobster or at least was, and no matter what he’s been through, y’all gatta stop painting his actions as a trauma response and excusing his shitty behavior. Most of these fans are just seeing things that aren’t there or assuming things that the show hasn’t even indicated because y’all view him as a helpless baby and want to dump your headcanons onto him rather than seeing the actual character that’s been presented to us. Even if he is really layered, the show has yet to dive into him and explore him more because a comic and music video aren’t enough. I want to see more than him just being jokey one second, and being sad the other with no in between or proper flow. For now, he’s just not as complex as some people are making him out to be.

[arabian-batboy]

I know you mentioned wanting to talk about damian earlier so what is your ideal direction for damians character? Assume you can retcon out details of Canon events

I think I talked about this a lot on my blog here and there, but Its not like I have ONE very detailed direction for his character and honestly I'm starting to try my hardest to not think about what we could have, because I know it will probably never happen and I would just make myself sad.

As for what I want, it depends if you mean from this point-on or if I could just go back in time to a certain point since Lazarus Planet is still going and I have a feeling it will fuck up do a lot of changes to Damian, so we will have to wait to see what happens. Either ways, I personally just want everything that happened since 2016 to be undone, I don't care how, just erase it all and lets pretend like the last issue of R:SoB was just released and lets start from there.

You know what's funny, even though Damian's fanbase is extremely diverse, almost all of us have been asking for only one of two things for so many years now, which are either A) bring back Maya & Suren and have Damian form a team with them B) have Damian be forever trapped as Jon's partner in a Super Sons comic that doesn't end (which I’m obviously not here for.)

That's it, there are really no huge amount of Damian's fans who are asking for anything else, yet DC keeps doing stories that no asked for that are always forgotten about after they end. Not only have they completely discarded point A, but they actually even have the balls to semi-discard point B, which I’m actually glad about don’t get me wrong, but I’m just surprised considering how feral and loud SS’s fans are, so if THEY can’t have what they want, I’m afraid no Damian’s fan can wish for anything, even though again, we're easy to please and what we want done with his character is clear as the day (we’re are not asking for much either)

Now if I was like the CEO of DC, I will just be an asshole who ignores continuity and have Damian deaged to like maybe 11/12 years old, put him back in his classic costume and have him return to Gotham as its official Robin, who actually has a personal/civilian life and regular interaction with all Batman's related characters (the fact that the last time time he had proper one-on-one interaction with any of the Batgirls was in the 00's decade is ridiculous, especially when one of them is his literal sister)

I would have Talia taking a small amount of members from the LOS who were always more loyal to her goals and means than her father's to form her own small spy organization that focuses on saving the Earth in ways other than killing a lot of people, similar to how Talia destroyed Lex Luthor Crop during her spy era, so maybe we will see her going undercover in corporations that commit a lot of pollution and making them go bankrupt or something similar?

Maya, Suren and Goliath would be living with her, however they wouldn't really be involved in her spy work (except maybe Maya, whose stealth powers can come in handy) instead they, along with Damian who will occasionally leave Gotham to team-up with them, will play a more action-based role.

So it will be 3 books, a Talia's book about her doing spy work, a Damian's book about him being Gotham's Robin and a team-up book with him and his friends going on adventures, which I have plenty of ideas for.

From expanding on Maya's backstory and doing something with the plot-line about her mother that Gleason didn't get to write, to a story about the Darga tribe who have been teased for a while now without anything coming from it and their connection/rivalry to the Al Ghul family (maybe even have a story about Suren betraying his friends for his family before double crossing them and declaring his friends to be his real new family) and the Year of Blood's storyline is a treasure trove that can be used as basis for newer stories. For instance, a lot of the artifacts that Damian stole seem to have some kind of power/magical properties to them, so I wouldn't mind seeing a story about a villain getting their hands on them to use them for evil and our team retrieving those items from them.

And I love the character of Ruh, if they don't plan on reviving Ra's, I wouldn't mind her leading the rest of the League that Talia didn't take (lets be real, DC will never fully disband the League) and maybe Talia + the kids will act as a throne in her throat by always beating her to any newly discovered Lazarus Pit and destroying it before her League reach them (I feel like I would be able to come up with more stories after LP ends)

I have so many ideas in my brain its ridiculous, but like I said at the beginning, I know none of them would ever happen, since all of them require Talia and Damian to not be demonized and to be written as main-characters, which 90% of DC's writers are not interested in doing, so it would be better to just forget about them.

[waitingforeddyneddy]

Lmao I AM the old mod from Reddit. Just a few points

1) my friend did see them at merrily we roll along. Idk why this changes things. I still don’t like Ariana, she’s an ass. And I find it very telling that JB hangs out and associates with her and it HAS dimmed my interest in him, I still like HIM, but it’s definitely annoyed me. I won’t be seeing wicked, and I’m not convinced it will be good. 2 parts? Why?

2) I do still feel like the JB sub is very strict with voicing opinions. One of my comments recently got locked because I mentioned that I didn’t think JB should brag about meeting president Biden at the moment and I was told not to bring politics into the sub. Somewhat difficult, when JB is angling himself as a political activist/foundation member. But fair enough, it’s their sub and their rules.

3) I didn’t say Simone was jobLESS, I said it was weird she didn’t book as much as her counterparts. I put 0 blame on Simone for this btw - I said I feel like her management team was dropping the ball. Being the lead in a top show on Netflix should have put her on the short list for actresses that year. Fast forward to now, & the strike has delayed whatever project she’s in. That sucks. Because the only thing we’ll have seen from her in the last two years is Bridgerton s2 & 3.

4) I agree JB didn’t do much press for s2. And I still say, he won’t for 3. I didn’t say he’s too big for it. I said he might not want to, and if he’s busy (wicked reshoots and whatever project he books next - a play? Idk) he probably won’t make room for it. Also? Why would I think he’d do press for 3 when they *barely* promoted him for 2. He got his solo articles for 2, he’s not going to do that for 3.

I don’t really remember what else was in the comment but here you go!

Y’all don’t like JB (some of you even hate him) and that’s fine, everyone’s allowed an opinion. I wouldn’t say I’m a huge fan of Simone, I don’t hate her, I just don’t really care either way and people were really pissed at my opinion that she should have booked more after s2 lol.

I read your comments because I agree with some of the things posted, I disagree with a lot. But isn’t that what open dialogue is about?

Anyways, happy holidays!

happy holidays to you anon

listen, you know what I think about JB, I won't say that I hate him cause at the end of the day I can't hate a person I will never meet. I feel an intense dislike for him based on his public persona. Kudos to you for admitting that your interest in him has dimmed. If I was his fan I would be much the same cause you have to admit he surrounds himself with nasty people. Ariana Granda was an asshole way before she came out as a serial homewrecker, there's no one I hate more than privileged celebrities who use their fame and money to treat regular people as trash and we all know those horror stories that always surrounded her about her treatment of workers. Lmao she basically admitted she's a cunt in one of her songs, when people tell you who they are, believe them. As for JB, I don't know if his friendship with her is PR or not, It kinda doesn't make sense since I think his Wicked character doesn't even end up with her right? (I don't know Wicked very well) but it was very obvious those photos were staged because the way they were acting was embarassing and the fact that he keeps bringing them up and the buzz they generated as something surprising is even more embarassing for him. This is why I think he's fake as hell. What do you mean you can't believe people were talking about them and the fact some people thought they were a couple? Not everyone knows you're gay buddy, and they way you and and one of the most famous pop stars were all over each other is bound to create talk so stop acting kind of annoyed about the "straight allegations". Then there's his whole friendship with Matt Bomer, another gay man who wasted a good opportunity to shut the fuck up and punctual as a clock posted an israeli flag on his insta. The reality of Fellow Travelers is there for all to see. Paramount, the conservative author, the producers, writers and cast members seem to be zionists and JB himself was part of Israeli pink washing propaganda. Honestly kudos to you for saying your fave talking about being happy about meeting Biden is not a brag and them telling you to keep quiet is another reason JB fans are the biggest hypocrites cause what the fuck does it mean keep politics out when JB himself said he wants to be political lmao? he photodumped his israel vacation, he's proud of his zionist show, he's happy about meeting Biden. Ladies and gentlemen, I think it's best if you start accepting your fave is not on the right side of things at all, yikes. He's one of the cast members of Bridgerton who said he wants to be political but couldn't bother to post ANYTHING regarding a simple call for a caesefire, in the name of human rights being stomped and all the kids who are losing their parents or even worse their lives. Fucking yikes. And he wants to be political? Does he think being political is only about going to galas, meeting famous people and having drinks? Or does he think it's only all about queer rights? He's white, he's rich, I think he can afford to speak about queer rights AND human rights since he wants to get "political". Nah, I don't think he's a good person at all and the more I see and read the more I feel validated in my opinion.

As for Simone and her career...I don't know what's going to happen, I'm patiently waiting for news, she seems happy and I'm good with that. Of course I wish for more, we'll see. I don't think it's right to compare her to her other costars. Actors from Bridgerton who have been booked and busy are Phoebe and JB, they're both white with connections. Even Rege, who was the actor everyone couldn't stop talking about when Bridgerton came out, didn't book much. I mean he did a couple of movies but nothing that matched the level of hype he got. We all know why.

[oldmemoria]

God finally I finished the 1992 Spider-Man 2099 comics—

SPOILER WARNING BTW IM JUST SPITTING OUT MY THOUGHTS RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW GET OUT IF YOU DONT WANT THE COMICS SPOILED FOR YOU PLEASE AND THANK YOU

Overall, writing wise I liked it. Most of it, at least. I wasn’t a huge fan of the art style at some points but that’s just personal preference, I guess. I know how much work and how little time goes into comics so that is just a tiny thing to me. Biggest complaint about the art style was how the women were drawn. Uh…. Yeah, it was the 90s. I’m not shocked we’ve barely grown and it’s 2023. Side note but this comic really did predict some modern stuff didn’t it /hj

The downsides…. Oh boy. I don’t like how most of the female characters were relegated to the damsel in destress or…. Miguel lover. Ig??

Conchata was sort of out of the ordinary with that and that’s why I liked her (Xina too, both of their personalities stuck out to me and I liked them. Xina sort of reminded me of Red from TLOTFK National Anthem for some reason) but I mean… she was the main characters mom. Kinda makes sense that she’d go against the grain

That and the representation of Mexican culture.. my god did I hate it. As a Latino, specifically as someone who is Mexican, I was not a fan of how Day of the Dead was portrayed specifically. It isn’t just Mexican Halloween. But in the comic… yeah that’s what I got from it and I think if a kid who didn’t really know what that is might end up being ill informed but just— they should have done more research. That’s all I’ll say.

I can give them a little leeway and say “oh it was the 90s”. So I will. It was the 90s. What am I gonna expect from a comic book in the 90s. This was actually pretty progressive for the time so why am I complaining 💀

Oddly enough though, I did enjoy the representation of suicidal tendencies and ideation from Miguel. You don’t see that a lot. At least not in the way this was depicted and from what I’ve seen. It was relatable. Every time he got into a near death situation he still fought through it and didn’t give up. Which like, yeah, I wouldn’t want to be killed by some guy with wings or drown because fish man or something, but as he spirals I feel like it was depicted well. He knew that he couldn’t take his own life because not only did he have a job to do (save the city, work at alchemax) but also he found that other people did end up caring about him. At some points that didn’t matter to him, sometimes it did. It’s a fucking roller coaster, realistically.

With the scene right after the reveal of Tyler stone, Miguel’s really awful boss who groomed him into his position at alchemax, being Miguel’s father. We see a shot of either Miguel attempting or thinking of killing himself. Personally I interpreted it as an attempt. Felt like it was a spur in the moment kind of thing, which is realistic, as far as I know. Reading his dialogue and thoughts just felt real. It felt like someone was maybe directly talking to me about their thoughts or that i was reading someone’s journal. There was no filter. Miguel has no filter. I fucking love him for that.

Everyone in the story was just kind of an asshole in some way. There was no morally good or morally evil. I’d say everyone in some way was morally grey.

Miguel is kind of a dick, but he cares about the people around him even though he may not properly show it (whether or not that’s because of trauma or, in my personal interpretation, him being possibly autistic is up to you. I think it’s a little bit of both). He feels guilt when he hurts people, when he kills others, on accident mind you, but he does. He shuts down. He trails off. He’s not evil or malicious, he’s just very very emotionally damaged. Which by all means isn’t an excuse for how he treats some of the people in his life throughout the comics but they serve as a good explanation.

Dana generally seemed to… kind of care? She did sleep around and was bouncing between literally all 3 of the OHaras (Miguel her fiance, Gabriel her brother-in-law, and Tyler her father-in-law), but she also treated them more like trophies than anything. We didn’t see a lot of her backstory or motivations because she really just… was only there when the plot needed to mention “oh by the way Miguel’s fiance cheats on him”. I wish we got to see more of her, tbh. I wanted to see her line of thinking (maybe I will once I eventually reread but rn my brain feels like it’s about to explode and I need to eat something before it does. T minus 8 minutes /ref)

Gabriel. Just Gabriel. I do not have the right words to unpack him. Holy fuck.

Xina was a bit of a hothead, ig? She bounced off of Miguel’s character pretty well because she directly went against him. Not like she was a villain at any point but she did end up being at odds with him at some point, so.. she does, however, still care about other people and just like Miguel she feels so much regret about the past. I’d argue everyone in this story just kind of sits in a puddle of “oh god this unending agony”. I’m happy she seemed to be blazing her own trail at the end of the comic. Cool of her. Very cool.

Tyler…. Yeah I didn’t like him and technically speaking he is a villain, but he wasn’t entirely evil apparently, he liked Dana. Even though i don’t believe him. He’s a greedy shit who basically only values his role in a billion dollar company so uh.. fuck him. He’s not cool. I wouldn’t say he’s morally grey but if we take his word at face value he can feel love. I guess. But I don’t think he does. Nuh uh, Tyler Stone, Nuh uh.

Lyla was great. I love her. She’s funny, witty, her timing is great, she’s fucking insane sometimes but yknow what that’s fine. I saw a post describing her as “the weird fairy that haunts Miguel” (paraphrasing) and I cannot help but see her that way from now on. Especially movie Lyla. Because she’s just FUNNY in both and she’s so much fun I wish there was more of her in the comic and I WISH WE HAD MORE OF THAYT RANDOM PUNK VARIANT OF HER WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT—

Overall, I found the comics charming regardless of my few critiques. It was written well to reflect that not everyone is picture perfect, everyone is just a bit cynical, and relationships are rocky sometimes. Especially if trauma and literal actual grooming is involved. Also I smiled and cheered a little bit when Tyler stone died and when alchemax fucking exploded.

That was great

(Sorry if this was a little incoherent like I mentioned before my brain hurts and I’d probably have to reread over and over to get my full analysis, this is just my final thoughts after my first full read through)

Will I read the other Spider-Man 2099 comics?

Um

[chaoticstanley]

I am absolutely in love with Beautyjuice! I’ve only seen one little snippet of her, but I’m already hooked on the ideas you have! If it’s alright, I did have a few questions (hopefully spoiler free, since you’re doing a comic):

Does she have to dress up and wear a corset ALL the time, or does she only do it just for super special occasions?

Did she choose to wear the corset, or is it societal pressure/necessity?

Did you have any specific influences/vibes when creating her?

Does she have any specific personality traits or archetypes that are different from her toonjuice counterpart?

Does Lydia get to see this alter ego? Do they like to do fun girly things together?

Is fanart of your universe/designs allowed? (With proper credit)

Thank you for your time! [Please don’t feel pressured to answer all of them! It is all good if you pick one or two to answer. :) ]

Have a wonderful day! Thank you for sharing your work with the world! ✨

Got me crying in the club rn!!! (T⌓T)

In all seriousness, this was such a sweet thing to say and I greatly appreciate your lovely words, babe!!!! And don't worry about spoilers cause the comic I'm working on is just a one-off story about Lydia having a sapphic crush lol. But onto the asks!!!

So, Beautyjuice mostly sticks to her feminized suit, but there are a few scenarios where she would dress up. Like, in the show, there are some situations for Beetlejuice to change his outfit, and it's the same deal for her but the only difference is that she's fem presenting. And she doesn't have to wear a corset at all. She's very insistent on it cause she likes how it makes her breasts pop up. She loves her titties and flaunts them constantly without shame. Either to seduce some poor sap out of their money or just for funsies.

And I was mostly inspired by, obviously, the Beautyjuice design in the show, but also drag queens as well. The exaggerated proportions and hair were a big factor. My mindset the entire time was "Does she look like she's serving cunt 💅🏼???" And I think I captured that pretty well 😊

In terms of personality, she's far more affectionate than my canon's Beetlejuice. Normal BJ doesn't like to be touched and doesn't ever touch anyone, save for the occasional hug with Lydia. He's a lot more like Moviejuice where he's not somebody you really wanna touch or else you'll end up dead in a ditch somewhere. But Beauty is way more touchy. She'll stroke your face, let a hand linger on your shoulder, run her fingers through your hair (and pull it), etc. It's all mostly to get your attention and manipulate in some way. But otherwise, she's just as much a gross, petty grade-A asshole as normal Beetlejuice.

And Lydia has seen her before and hung out with BJ in his Beauty form, but she's not a fan. Mainly because she always ends up witnessing her flirting with someone and it makes her gag. She's way more fond of Bettyjuice, which is BJ's teen girl alter ego which he uses to hang out with Lyds at school. In contrast, Bettyjuice is a mean e-girl type who loves to fight the school jocks, get into detention, and brag about how she has more followers than Claire Brewster. I posted Betty earlier but I'll reupload both fem designs here just to show the difference

Lydia definitely hangs out with Betty a lot more than Beauty. BUT they love to have typical girly fun, whether it's Beauty or Betty. They'll go shopping, talk shit on Claire, have slumber parties, do their makeup, etc. But funny enough, Beetlejuice does all that anyway in his standard form, so it's not any different than when they usually hang out lol. And here's a scene of Lydia helping Beauty in her corset.

And fanart is always welcomed by anyone for any art I make! I will go fucking feral for it. And again, thank you so much for this lovely ask! I'm a big fan of your art and seeing this in my inbox from you made me ecstatic!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Have a great one as well!