#let me not go on a rant about how we were robbed of one of the best character arcs of all time

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 7 - Black N' White Knight

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Dick tells Tim, hand carting through his hair. The two of them are in the kitchen, at the breakfast bar. Tim sitting in front of his laptop with his legs crossed, and Dick tapping one foot agitatedly against the marble floor. While Tim might not be grinning ear to ear, it’s pretty obvious for anyone who knows him that he’s delighted by the tale Dick just regaled to him.

And what a tale it was. He hasn’t seen you in a year and a half, and then when he does, he finds you teary eyed staring at a picture of him shirtless at the gym. Bruce had always told him the way he played with the paparazzi would come to bite him in the ass one day, but he really can’t say he expected… that.

Obviously, it had to be a prank. That’s his first thought. That’s his only thought, really. What other explanation could there be? An accident? Maybe you’d forgotten what his room looked like. It wasn’t like he kept much personal stuff in his Wayne manor room, the only markers his clothes and the letters he kept in his drawer from his parents.

And you were wearing his clothes, of all things. He’d be surprised if you forgot how much of a Superman fanboy he was, seeing as he’d spent many hours ranting to you before the explosion. So, a prank. A show of good will, an olive branch maybe? It was more likely you were just fucking with his head, as you’d done in the past. Never like this, though.

This was just… bizarre.

“I can’t either,” and of course, Tim sounds near estatic saying that. The love of chaos ran true in that one.

Dick had managed to wrangle his life under control a few years back, and despite the universe seeming to try to unravel it at the seams, he was indisposed to let it simply happen. Even if you of all people had changed. No, Dick was getting older, and he was finding his taste for chaos a lot more… limited.

He didn’t want to suffer it’s affects. He was currently suffering it’s affects.

“I knew something was going on when she showed up to the party, but this…” Tim pauses, leaning back in his chair, “It’s gotta be a prank, right?”

It said a lot about their family that this was all the assumption they defaulted to.

“It could be something else. Did you even take her to the hospital after?” Dick offers instead, overthinking as always. This situation seemed to be made for overthinking, though.

Tim hums. “No, we did not.”

Then he turns his stare to Dick, like he’s expecting something from him.

“Seriously?”

“What? You’re the friendly one.”

Dick very much did his best to seem like the friendly one, at least. Tim was well aware it was a complete farce, though. Dick was nice but he could also be a bit… well… a bit of a dick. Another thing he’d been trying to overcome. He was doing better than when he’d been seven, at least.

Dick sighs, pressing his hand to his forehead, “I’d probably just end up accidentally nagging her, and then she’d never speak to me again.”

“That’s not my problem,” Tim shrugs, glancing back down at his laptop and squinting.

“It is, actually. Because if she stopped talking to me you’d probably be the next one till the girls and Duke came home who has to talk to her.”

“She could talk to Jay,” Tim offers, because he’s a shithead. Dick bets he did the same with Bruce, “And besides, I’m busy doing surveillance.”

“You mean stalking.”

“I do it to everybody, stop making such a big deal out of it.”

Dick sighs again.

“Hm, you might want to check your phone,” Tim says, in a way that suggests he has once again tapped the network. Keeping him out of Dick’s private life was like Sisyphus and his boulder. He still wasn't going to give up, and the time Tim and Steph mercilessly bullied him for getting dumped over text had made him all the more so.

‘Dont_try’: hey. can you come pick me up? thx

“Please, tell me you sent that and are just messing with me,” Dick begs, staring down at his phone in mild despair. Chaos. Always fucking chaos. Despite how hard he tried, he could not keep his family out of trouble. God damn it, when he’d gotten this job he’d been the one made for trouble. Where did he go wrong?

“Honestly, sounds like the sort of thing I’d do, but the girl just got bitch slapped so I really think you should respond fast.”

“What?!”

“She’s fine now, run to the bathrooms I think. You know for such an upstate place you’d think they had better camera positioning,” Tim mutters, complaining that he can’t watch every single little movement you make. Dick thinks he should probably worry about this, as it’s a clear sign of another decline for his sanity, but he’s now got this shit to deal with.

“Why, Tim? What is going on? Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Hm?” he’s engrossed by the computer, “Ah, the shitty boyfriend… some soup- ha, how is she such a clutz? Maybe we should get her head checked again- and… an altercation of some kind? I don’t know, I can’t see it properly.”

Dick leans forward in his stool, clasped hands covering his face for a moment.

“Are you going to reply? If you don’t soon, she’ll probably make it a bigger shitshow,” Tim says, nudging his foot against Dick’s. Dick, good big brother that he is, takes a deep breath and steadies himself. Even if this is really not what he wanted for his holiday, he’s dealt with much, much worse.

The press will have forgotten about this within the week. You, however, likely not. He’d promised to help you all those years ago, and even if he had no idea why you were reaching out to him, or if you would even be amicable when you met again, he’d still damn well do it.

He glances back down at his phone.

“What is going on?” Dick repeats to himself, and Tim’s head cocks to the side. There’s that familiar cat that got the cream grin spreading across his younger brother’s face, and it just really isn’t welcome right now.

“Intrigued yet?”

Unfortunately for both him, Tim and especially you, Dick already was.

He’s in his car in five minutes flat, finger tapping against the premium leather wheel. The sound of it is the only thing that manages to keep him sane.

Riding up to the place, Dick realises that no, maybe the press won’t be over this within the week. Considering the amount of paparazzi swarming the place, he doubted you’d be free for at least a few months. To be fair, the mysterious ex-wayne making such a scene was a bit of a big deal. Before you’d been basically invisible, despite your immense wealth and past.

Invisible? Dick thinks he spots at least twenty cameras. And that’s not even mentioning all the phones inside that would’ve gotten up close videos of whatever happened. Their legal team would handle it fine, that which Barbara or Tim couldn’t wipe from the face of the earth. And that was very little, all things considered.

Dick has to push past the calls of his name, ignoring all the intrusive questions volleyed his way like the pro he was. He still makes sure to listen carefully and store away every vital bit of information, as well as remember the logos on the film crew’s van. Eventually he makes his way to the front of the line, and the flustered front of house immediately recognises his face and sweeps him inside. Dick ducks in with a thankful smile, which he admits, falters when he enters the scene.

A scene which you are not in. Your gold digging boyfriend was, though. Of all the things Dick regrets with you, it’s not breaking the horrid relationship the two of you had apart. Or well, the fact that you totally, loudly hated his guts. He was a sensitive guy, y’know!

He sees your terribly boyfriend - George, Dick remembers - raging at some poor servers, and he knows he need to go sweep in and save the pour soul. It’ll be a hard fight, he can already tell.

Before he does so, he sends a quick text to his phone.

Underwear_guy: Where are you?

Don’t_try: I’ll be right out.

Shockingly, that was the truth. You come striding into the restaurant, and immediately all eyes are on you. It makes you stutter-step. Dick can see you visibly stiffen up, before you manage to gather your courage and keep walking. You don’t even pay him a single glance as you walk straight towards your fuming boyfriend.

You try to whisper, keeping your voice quiet and your conversation private. The boyfriend seems uninterested in the idea.

“What the fuck are you thinking?!” he cuts you off.

You glance around, and then say something else. It seems like you’re trying to defuse the situation, but George seems uninterested by the idea. 

“This behaviour is ridiculous. You need to get it together, we’re in public!” he yells, like he isn’t the one causing a scene. He seems to be trying to intimidate you back into silence. But today and well, yesterday too, something is different about you.

Okay, that’s enough of that. Dick’s intervening.

“You cheated on me! You deserve it and everything that’s coming to you!”

Or, uh, maybe you’ve got it covered.

-

George’s shocked face is almost worse than when you literally bit him. Guess he expected you to be a bit more demure after that encounter. He should know better, the other version of you seemed to have been even more spiteful in nature.

Today again, you prove you are a less than stellar person. You’d stopped caring about George as soon as you’d discovered he’d cheated, but you were still angry. Not jealous, but furious. Bubbling up your throat, rage and bile and the urge to attack him once again, even if you just want to go home.

Your teeth grind. Your jaw ticks. And oddly, you realise you have a real taste for George Lancaster’s limbs.

Though your life had changed (literally) in the past few days, you were still the same girl from your first twenty-first. You wanted George Lancaster to suffer. Even more so, now that the evil cunt had hit you right in the face. The hit had stunned you, though. More emotionally than physically, but it had shocked you.

You couldn’t say you were a coward. You’d spent far too many days in your teenage years indulging in self-destructive behaviours to think that. But something about this pathetic man was scaring the shit out of you. You think that made you more pathetic, but you couldn’t quite tell. That’d be victim blaming, right?

You did have a habit of blaming yourself. It was just usually your fault.

…Maybe you shouldn’t have bit him, no matter how much the response was instinctual or his screech was satisfying. This was all too confusing, all too much. You needed to get back to your apartment, lock the doors and barricade them so nobody bothers you. And then maybe hibernate for a week. You needed some time to process all the stupid bullshit you were experiencing. The wayne manor was too much, your horrible white apartment was too much, George fucking Lancaster was too fucking god damn much.

You take a deep breath, and manage to stop yourself from bolting like a deer. Deal with the problem at hand. Deal with it now, deal with it!

“I’m leaving, and we are done. It’s that simple,” you tell George, trying to drill in a message that he seems unable to comprehend. At this point you’d assume he’d be trying to apologise, manipulate back into his good graces, but you think you might’ve completely broke him. Broke the script.

Good. That was damn well good.

“Can we talk about this somewhere else at least?” George replies, eyes flicking to Richard Grayson’s angry gaze. At least you think he’s angry. You can’t quite gather the courage to look directly at him.

Also, there’s the manipulation! You wish you weren’t right this time.

“Sure, but I’m bringing him, and my answer will absolutely not change. You hit me.”

“You bit me!”

Well, yeah, not your best moment. You don’t think you can regret it, though.

“Then I think this relationship is ending on equal terms,” you reply, trying your best to just get him to quit it. It is obviously not working by the way his expression darkens.

“I’ll tell the press everything,” George threatens, which, well, is sort of a shitty threat because I don’t even know what he’s threatening. ‘Everything’? Couldn’t he be a bit more specific?

You shrug. It is the wrong response, you know it is, but you’ve completely ran dry of fucks to give. Couldn’t be much worse than the bullshit happening right now. The press were already very well fed, considering the situation that was today. George makes a small sound of fury.

“We’ll sue,” Richard Grayson, the white knight that you’d daydreamed about, comes to your rescue. Is it odd that it’s kind of flustering? You probably shouldn’t be flustered.

George immediately snaps his gaze to Grayson’s, giving the man a look with a healthy dose of fear. Couldn’t blame the guy. Even if he was the second smallest of the three remaining brothers, he was still well known for being strong. His family often did kick-boxing, and their sister, Cass, often whooped their asses. It was sort of satisfying to watch. Anyway, his physical prowess from fighting to weirdo gymnastic bullshit was evident in his svelte build.

George was many things, but he wasn’t an idiot. With just the one threat from the Waynes legal team, he skitters away like the little rat you know him to be. He leaves the restaurant, and he very obviously does not pay or even leave a tip. You suppose you have the cash to make up for it. Then, ignoring the paparazzi, you were technically home free. You glance to the side. Richard Grayson’s beautiful face looks a mix of confuddled, frustrated, and exhausted. He still saved you, though, even after the fool you made of yourself.

White knight, indeed. It almost feels a bit anticlimactic, but it’s the results you wanted. And yet, an ominous feeling befalls you. Somehow, you don’t feel you’ve seen the last of George Lancaster. You just really hope the old you hadn’t committed any crimes. A tabloid? Humiliating, but livable. Prison? Not so much.

Not that the rich stayed in prison in Gotham, or even the rest of the world. It was kind of strange to realise you were sort of above the law now.

You glance at Dick, pulling your uncomfortably wet shirt away from your chest. You’ve sort of been bled dry of any shits you could give at this point, so you decide, very maturely, to make jokes and ignore all your problems. It had gotten you this far.

You’d seen this behaviour before. Many, many times. It was what usually got you fired. But now you didn’t really have to worry about that, so why should you worry about causing a scene and ruining your life a bit more? It wasn’t yours, after all.

“What do you think?” you joke, elbowing Dick. He looks down from glaring at the entrance George just slipped out of, to you. His blue eyes are a damn near shock to the soul. It takes everything in you not to start fidgeting.

“Think of what?” he responds, and despite how hard you try, you can not read his expression.

“I’m trying to make some more news. Don’t think the reporters got enough the other day,” you say, gesturing to the giant stain. It’s still Dick’s shirt. You hadn’t realised till now, but the Beatles was now some sort of green soup. Is it kind of gross of you to acknowledge that at least the soup smelled good?

Probably. You didn’t actually get to eat anything here. It’s also probably a bit weird that you’re thinking about eating at a time like this. Probably.

“I think you’ve done enough, honestly,” he says, glancing at the camera flashes from outside.

He sounds exactly like your mother, it’s almost uncanny. Well, this version of him technically knew her. You’re still not sure how well en-meshed your two families had been before the disaster, but maybe he’d picked up some traits from her.

…That… you’re not sure how to feel about the idea. The old green monster bubbles up at the thought, and you can’t tell if you’re jealous your mum got to meet Dick Grayson, or that Dick Grayson might’ve gotten to know your mum.

“We should leave,” he says, cutting off your bitter inner thoughts, “I know you don’t like it when the magazines bother you.”

You don’t? You don’t. Yes, that makes sense, ‘you’ definitely wouldn’t have. And it’s not like you feel comfortable with them either. In fact, if you think about the fact your drowned rat appearance will be on every tabloid in the city by tomorrow, probably alongside photos from your birthday, you feel so nauseous you could collapse. Going to compartmentalise that one.

“Yes, going, let’s go,” you say, following Dick out of the restaurant.

Despite the fact that the security guards are trying their best, it’s getting quite rowdy out here. When Dick wraps an arm around your shoulder, shielding you with his body, you almost just pass out right there. His muscles… Your heart simply can’t take it. As it is, Dick notices you jump like a foot in the air, and backs off. He still makes sure to try and protect you from their vision as much as possible.

Still, in an act that is purely rebellious, you turn and give them a big smile and a wave. Even as you hate every single person on the other side of the divide, you want to make one thing very clear. You will not be cowed by someone like George fucking Lancaster. Your peace sign and wink are a message to them, to him, and to yourself.

Despite the fact that this new life is one you have no idea how to handle, you know one thing. Put on a face, and it’ll always be easier.

Dick is probably wondering what the hell happened to you for you to be acting this way. Your shirt has a giant stain on it, you just broke up with your cheating boyfriend, went through a traumatising experience just a few days ago, and you’ve got the biggest grin on your face. This behaviour speaks more and more of a full blown mental breakdown. And it’s not the first you’ve had or the last.

There’s paparazzi snapping thousands of photos of the two of you, and instead of shying away as ‘you’ used to, you throw up a peace sign. One of the papps drops their camera. That confuses you a bit, as your peace sign deflates slightly. Didn’t they want more pictures? Weren’t you supposed to pose…?

For all you stalked celebrities online, you realise you have no idea how to pretend to be one. This is going to become an issue, you can already tell.

He points at a car, and you assume it’s his because he starts making his way over. He’s obviously done this sort of thing before, using and guiding the security with a smooth confidence. Even still, the two of you are a bit too close for comfort.

Which you prove, by putting your foot directly in your mouth.

“I don’t have abs, but do you think the press would like my stomach like they like yours?” you say, and almost immediately regret it. Another poor joke. You are deflecting so hard. And why the hell did you bring that up, you dunce? You feel your brain cells draining the more you’re around this guy, it’s not healthy for you.

“Please don’t pull your shirt up in public,” Dick sounds like he’s about to have a mental breakdown. It’s spreading, like the plague. You’re patient zero, of course. Even still he gets you guys to the car, and opens the side door for you. You follow his wordless command and slip into the passenger seat.

“I won’t. Sorry, sorry,” you reply, to relieve him of some of the trauma you’re currently inflicting.

He glances back to the papps, and then back down at you. His smile bowls you over like he’s getting the last strike in a fucking 300. He genuinely is the most beautiful human being you’ve ever seen. Thankfully, he closes the door so you have a moment to gather your sanity before he goes around the car and gets in the driver’s seat.

You hope you’re subtle when you shift away from him slightly. It shouldn’t be that surprising really. You were stupid on average. You would be stupider around attractive people. You would be frankly disastrous around someone as blastingly hot as Dick Grayson. The Waynes in general turned you into a drooling idiot.

Good god, you need to get out of this car. As soon as you think that, Dick is pulling away from the parking spot and out onto the streets. He makes slow progress because Gotham traffic, but eventually you manage to flee the horrifying stares of the cameras. Already you can tell it’ll be giving you nightmares. Probably along with images of the guy who tried to rape you and Damian Wayne sneering at you.

“So, how are you feeling?”

Despite how you wish it not, Mr. Grayson decides he’s going to start a conversation with you.

“Good,” you reply, the answer instinctive and an obvious lie.

You can feel his gaze on the side of your face, but you don’t dare return it.

“That’s good to hear,” he says, and his voice is gentle. Sort of infantilising if you’ll be honest.

While it is very clear to anyone who looks at you that you have no idea what you’re doing, you’d rather he didn’t bring it up. You’ll figure it out. You’ve always managed to figure it out. This is what you get for asking for help. Really, despite your momentary panic you could’ve taken George. Probably not physically, but…

“You can talk to me if you want, you know?”

“Can you stop the car, please?” you respond, when that question immediately activates your fight or flight response. Dick must notice something about you, because he quickly shoots forward and into a momentarily available parking spot.

You scramble with the door, shoving your way back out onto the asphalt. The immediate distinct smell of Gotham, even Gotham’s richer districts, calms you down. Sewage, the ocean, and the ever present smoke and fog.

Fuck’s sake. You aren’t making yourself look anymore well put together.

Clearing your throat, you turn and find Richard Grayson coming around the car hood towards you. There’s a worried look in his eyes, and you really don’t know how to deal with it. It’s like you made a deal with the devil. By getting rid of George, you’d gotten a new problem - and an infinitely more complicated one.

Shit, you need to stop making rash decisions when you’re having panic attacks. You’d say you should probably try and stop having panic attacks entirely, but you don’t really know how to do that.

The sound of your name has you snapping back to attention. Dick looks even more worried.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks, taking a few slow steps towards you. Again, infantilizing. Like you’re a wild animal about to run. Wait, weren’t you just comparing yourself to a chihuahua? Well, it’s not the same when other people do it.

“I’d like to take a walk,” you say, hand scrunching into your pyjama pants, “Alone, I’d like some time alone.”

“…In that?” He glances down at the stain that is slowly starting to dry. It’s making your skin itchy, but at least it’s not as cold.

“I can buy something,” you say, remembering one of the apps on your phone was connected to your bank account, which you had to assume was pretty full. It’s kind of stupid that you haven’t checked that yet.

You’re starting to feel a bit defensive towards your own intelligence. Maybe it’s because you seemingly keep making all the worst decisions.

Dick doesn’t make it any better.

“Do you have cash on you?” he asks, showing how little faith he has in your general abilities to survive as an adult in Gotham.

“I do, I’ll be fine,” you insist, because god damn it, you will be. You just need a fucking minute.

You ran from the Wayne manor because you felt like you were being watched, and then as soon as you showed up at the world’s most uncomfortable apartment, the haunting wraith known as George dragged you out in your P.J.s. You could figure it the fuck out, if these people would give you some fucking space.

Richard Grayson seems to realise that you’re getting upset, because he goes quiet for a moment. After staring at you for a moment longer, for which you manage to find the courage to maintain eye contact through pure stubborn will, he asks you one final question.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride home or something?” he asks, still seeming so determined to help you.

His suggestion brings flashes of images of you breaking down in front of the Bruce Wayne to mind. From almost a birds eye view, you see yourself sobbing against your own ruined dress as the billionaire looked on. Bile literally jumps up your throat, and it takes a lot of willpower not to grimace at the suggestion.

“Look, Mr. Grayson, I really appreciate-”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that.”

Once again, you feel the urge to simply sprint away from your own problems, but you manage to hold yourself still. Still, you can’t think of a solution. You can’t really think much of anything. Instead you stare at Richard Grayson with your hands threaded together and your lips pressed into a thin line.

Though you open your mouth to speak, you find you have no excuses ready or available. You’ve talked yourself into a corner already, and it’s your third day in this world. Marvellous. Maybe you should just tell the truth.

Still, the dangers outweigh the pros. They don’t know you, they don’t have any real reason to take care of you. If they believe you, they’ll toss you out onto the streets penniless. And if they don’t-

You blink. There’s a highway sign behind Dick, and it catches your attention like a lightning bolt. ‘Arkham Asylum 800 miles’. It’s white blocky letters on green panelling feels like a sign from god, warning you from the path you consider taking.

And then you realise that you might actually get sent to Arkham if you say anything, and you resolve to never tell a single soul about what has happened to you. You’ve heard enough stories about the asylum, and by god, you are not being roommates with the fucking Joker of all people.

Eventually Dick realises he’s not getting anything out of you and he sighs, shaking his head. His annoyingly perfect hair mesmerises you for a second, but you manage to wrangle your brain back under control. He really doesn’t make it easy.

“I just want to know if you’re safe. If you’re going through anything, you know we’re always happy to help-”

“Dick,” you say his name, face twisting in discomfort, “This was a… a one time thing. Usually I can handle my problems. It just… it caught me off guard. George cheating was a huge shock, and I needed someone to stand by me.”

“And you know I always will, right?”

Ah. That’s… Dick Grayson was a stranger. You didn’t know him, and more than that he did not know you. He did not know what you would do, could do. You didn’t think anyone did, not even yourself.

It’s a silly idea to expect your celebrity crush to save you, and it’s one you find you can’t stomach it at the moment. It makes you feel disgusted with yourself at the idea. It’s too indulgent, too silly. It’s very simply, not possible.

You’ve given up on relying on miracles. These lessons had been beaten into you, really. You didn’t want to have to learn them again.

Your feelings must show on your face.

Dick lets out a whoosh of air, frustration palpable. He carts his hand through his hair. It still looks perfect. The world is unfair, yadda yadda.

“You run hot and cold, you know?” he gives you a grin. It says a lot about his ability to act, seeing as it seems almost natural. Almost, being the key word.

Also, he is absolutely correct. The chihuahua effect is in full-swing. And you know what? You are probably going to continue to run hot and cold, because you’ve never made a decision in your life. He’ll just have to get used to it.

You raise your hands and shrug, in the universal ‘what-can-you-do?’ motion. He wasn’t wrong. You were being completely erratic. Not even you knew what you’d do next. At least life isn’t boring these days, right Right? You wonder who you are trying to fool, because it’s certainly not yourself.

“I’ll contact you if I need anything,” you lie, because it seems to be the right thing to end this torturous conversation, “And I’ll make sure to keep contact with Alfred. You can talk to Jeanine if you need anything, as well.”

Dick, unfortunately, calls you out on your bullshit.

“But not you, right?” he says, smile still printed on his face.

Woof. You think… you’ve hurt his feelings? Ah shit, you instantly feel like the scum of the earth. Still, you don’t know how you could fix this. Arkham is a genuine threat lingering over your shoulder, you don’t know enough about your new cut-throat billionaire world, and you can not lose any faith they have in you. Any that you have left, that is.

You’re sorry, but this is coming down to survival. And you are a greedy person, after all.

In the end, you don’t have anything to say, and Richard Grayson leaves without a word. Watching him walk towards his car, you feel… bad. Really bad. The part of you that is still crushing on this guy, a very large part of you, feels like you’ve ended the earth. The other part, the one that recognises that once again you’re going to have to fight for yourself… well, she thinks so too.

Maybe… maybe you could fix this. Apologise. Once you’ve gotten your bearings and know you’re safe and 100% financially stable, maybe you’ll figure it out. Give him his shirt back after you’ve dry-cleaned it.

For now, you give him your back as well.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[flamingpudding]

I'm so sorry I didn't get to finish but as Dan's Teekl is a Phoenix snake and he takes after Vlad since of dressing

When something big is going on the magical world and they need King Phantom's help he decides to bring along his children this is how the Justice League finds out just like Robin is a past dumb title so is Klarion all the Justice League deal with a bunch of hyper up chaotic children who have been antiheroes let's find out

I wanted this to be just like a we are robbing thing except with Clarion all of them showing off the fact that Teekl have never been a cat would be so funny to me

Anywho I haven't been able to come up with anymore ideas for Dan is Klarion but I did come out with this one hope you find it funny sorry that I messed up on the first part of the writing

Okay... so version one got deleted, per my rant post notices... so here is version two hopes to that it will still be as good... also... i didn't remember how I ended this the first time soooooo yea... sorry again for having messed up in between...

[Link to the first part of the Ask here!]

I hope this will still be as enjoyable....

------------------

Vlad didn't regret a lot of things but he regretted having told Bruce Wayne that he had a way of summoning the Ghost King. Why you ask? Because Bruce Wayne apparently leaked that information to the Justice League.

Well originally Vlad had told Bruce only about this because he was after the deal he had wanted for years with Wayne Enterprise. That man had been able to avoid Vlad for years now, and during his years when he hadn't been a redeemed man it had infuriated him.

But he was a redeemed man now. He had reformed his entire Company and since Wayne Enterprise was contracted with the Justice League, he had felt it was appropriate to boost that his Company had valuable connections too.

He also just wanted to rub it into Brucie Waynes face that he wasn't the only one with big name Hero / other worldly connections department. Okay it might have been a bit of an ego thing left. But he was a redeemed man.

And because he was a redeemed man he had not used his ghost powers to throw Batman out of the window the hero had used to barge into his hotel room at 3 -goddamn- AM only to demand the method on how to summon the ghost king.

No sir, Vlad was a redeemed man, he was nice now, a good guy.

He only grumbled and demanded the reason, which apparently was a demonic thread to the magical world that indirectly could wipe out the entire world itself. Great, little badger will not be amused hearing about that.

Daniel would be cross with him for using the summoning stone in the middle of the night but Batman was giving him a valid reason to use it. Surely Daniel would understand right? Plus Vlad could use that as change to see the little badger again. It had been a while since he last saw him.

Well Vlad regretted agreeing with Batman with the condition that he would be the one to do the summoning. That man in a bat suit did not hesitate to drag Vlad with him then bringing him, blindfolded mind you, to a place where he then was faced with several heroes, including but not limited to the Justice league.

Just great.

At least Vlad got to inform Danial about the situation and the reason for his summon as Ghost King via summoning stone, even if that blond British man had scoffed when he saw Vlad pulling it out, about the situation and what the little badger could expect the moment he stepped out of a portal.

What Vlad did not expect were several RED portals opening and similarly dressed young adults as well as one teen stepping out of them.

"Sup old man! Mom told us you called him about some world ending problem!" Dan greeted him in his Klarion get up, perfectly styled hair and his ghost pet, a phoenix snake, Snape (yes Dan named his pet after a mage from a wizard movie series) on his shoulders. Vlad could feel the distinctive illusion magic around the pet and he was pretty sure everyone without ghost powers were not able to see through it.

"KLARION?!" One of the present heroes yelled.

And of course all of the kids had to answer in reflect turning to where the voice came from at the same time.

"Yea"

There was a brief moment of silence in which Vlad face palmed.

"Ah sorry, that was on reflex. Old habits die hard!" Ellie laughed, she had grown into a young woman and was currently wearing what looked like a black suit crossed with a 90s style witch dress.

"I am the current Klarion, lose that fucking habit already." Dan grumbled annoyed as he crossed his arms glaring at every sibling that had answered to his alias.

"I am telling mom you cussed." Ellie instead grinned instead, before she looked around for a moment before her eyes landed on Nightwing, her face instantly lighting up. "ROBIN! I mean Nightwing! I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Do I know you?" Vlad could feel sorry for the hero, but these where the phantom kids, so he wasn't in the slightest and he was still cross with he heroes for waking him up at 3AM!

"I am hurt! Don't you recognise me!" Ellie gasped and Dan unashamedly elbowed her for acting so familiar.

"Misrule." He warned her. Ellies current Anti-Hero -Chaos Agent- Alias Vlad remembered. A name she specifically chose because it sounded like Miss Rule and she knew that the word play would annoy Nabu. That girl had some serious beef with the Ancient of Order.

"Oh shush little brother! Let me reconnect with the kids I used to mess with!" She shushed Dan ruffling his hair and nearly messing up his horned hairstyle, before turning back to Nightwing. "Don't you remember my lovely Armadillos? Though I only know you were the Robin I first meet because I looked into Grandpa Clock's time mirrors..."

There was a brief moment of silence on the other side where the heroes stood and Vlad swore he could have heard a pin needle drop.

"Oh god..." One of them finally spoke up as apparently some kind of realisation sunk into the heroes. But before Ellie could add anything more the one Vlad recognised as Red Robin cut in.

"Klarion is like Robin!"

"RR what are you...?"

"The title of Klarion got passed down like Robin!"

There was another brief moment of silence before Dan, Ellie and the rest of their siblings burst out laughing.

"It took you idiots this long to see that?!" Dan called them out, laughing as he hugged Snape.

Vlad would probably feel sorry for the entirety of the heroes before him if he wasn't amused by this himself, even he had seen the differences whenever 'Klarion' got passed on.

"For your information, I was the first Klarion, so i could mess with Nabu." Ellie grinned. "I was also the one that used a bit to much eyeliner."

"I never got the the horned hairstyle right."

"I was the one with a fancy black suit."

One by one the phantom kids listed of all the differences in their versions of Klarion until they all looked towards the youngest Dan, the current Klarion.

"What?" He grumbled as his elder siblings grinned at him.

"Fucking fine. I use a suit similar to the old man's style and I like to do more than just mess with Nabitch." He muttered after enduring his siblings stares for.

"And you cuss." Ellie grinned brightly causing the rest of the siblings to to chuckle.

Vlad recognised the look in Dan's eyes and before the kids could break out into an argument or a brawl, depending how violent Dan was feeling, he coughed loudly to get noticed by everyone.

"World threatening situation." He reminded everyone. "Where is your mother? The Ghost King?"

"Oh Mom is already dealing with the situation." Dan shrugged. "We more or less came to watch and see the heroes suck and fail at 'Order' to rub it into Nabitch's face."

Vlad really wanted to scowl the kids and he was going to but then the heroes cut in again.

"Can we get back to the thing about Klarion being a title passed down like Robin? With how many different Klarions did we have to deal with over the years!?"

"Red Robin not the right time..."

"Yes the right time! So many comments from Klarion make sense now! Like the first time he went right up into my face!"

"Red Robin!"

"Oh that was still me! The first Klarion!"

[williamvapespeare]

"every day i'm fucking smiling;" a rant (cogent, intellectual character study) about Charles

We all know that Charles Rowland is THE character of all time. Obviously. Undisputedly (except by Netflix) blabla. I, a mixed race bisexual idiot with daddy issues, am about to fucking get into it.

I think there are a lot of ways to get into that end of ep 4 scene – I think we can look from trauma, we can look from model minority syndrome, we can look from a place of people pleasing to the extreme, but I think the best way to get into Charles (for me, personally) is to look at him as a character formed of intersections. Of in-betweens. In literally EVERY way possible, he is between things. He’s mixed race, he’s (probably) bisexual, he’s between life and death, he’s between good and bad, he’s probably sitting somewhere between trauma and healing – like, he’s CONstantly engaging in coping mechanisms and that itself is an in between.

Ok this idea of “I must be liked” very obviously will come from living a life where the opposite of not being liked is always violence, and that definitely can’t be understated. But I think this whole scene and this line in particular really speak to this very specific feeling that comes with inhabiting an identity that is ALWAYS seen as “not enough” in some way. Like, if you sit in a place where you don’t speak one side of your family’s language well enough and simultaneously aren’t white enough (or whatever enough) for the other side, you’re just like fundamentally culture-less and fighting to just be ANYTHING.

(Another GREAT example of this I think is the game Life is Strange 2, which is about two Hispanic American brothers, one of them speaks Spanish and the other one is much younger and doesn’t and there’s a bit where the younger brother doesn’t want to leave the US and says “I don’t even speak Spanish” and the other one is like “don’t worry, everyone likes you.” Like YES being “““Likeable””” is maybe the only way in when you are so fundamentally detached from a thing that you are also fundamentally part of, anyway!!)

Similarly, like all of us bisexual people know we’re constantly getting shit from both sides, from straight people and gay people and probably like, corpses decomposing in the ground who are throwing around terms like “gold star lesbian” or whatever the fuck. People just look at whatever relationship you’re in and they’re like ah yep that’s you!!

Like the whole thing is the most reductive narrow-minded stupidity, but it’s also just THE WAY. It’s the way of stuff. And being like ok, I AM NOT ENOUGH OF ANYTHING THAT I AM. How are you going to deal with that, you’re going to try and be likeable?? Because that’s something you can control!!!

And I’m low key so mad that we can’t see a continuation of this story where we get to see a character slowly come to terms with these in-betweennesses and say like, I’m not actually two halves, I’m two wholes. This is intentional in-betweenness. Like yes, blabla let the boy be bi, but it’s SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT. And I trust this show and I trust these writers to get that right and we were robbed of that.

So yeah idk tldr “every day I’m fucking smiling” was like the gut punch of the century. Whoever wrote that I’m omw to haunt your local Denny’s with my extroverted mixed race bisexual energy THANK U

[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me - You Miss Me - Six

Sup, I finally wrote the next part. Mostly because of someone trying to find it via the fic finder blog, which gave me a big ol spike in anxiety about the lack of update.

Part One .... Part Four - Part Five

---

“Rob, no.”

“Don’t you tell me ‘no,’ Steven Dingus Harrington!”

“You can’t drive to Hawkins and kill the guy.”

“Oh yes I can! I'll take your bat with me!”

“Babe, you still don’t know how to drive, and I have work in the morning so I can’t take you.” 

“I’ll figure it out on the way!”

She wouldn’t. She wasn't going to drive to Hawkins. She would definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent kill Munson if she had the chance and Steve didn’t talk her out of it, but Robin wasn’t going to leave him alone when he’d had a breakdown an hour earlier. She wouldn’t let him sleep alone for the next few days, and she would go to work with him in the morning, and she’d probably skip her Stats class so she could stick by him after work too. 

It took Robin about thirty seconds to realize something had happened. 

That was the gap between her opening the car door, and Steve speaking. All he said was “hey, Robs” and she cut off her ramble about chlorofluorocarbons. The same way he could tell by the sound of her stirring soup, or which color eye shadow she wore, she knew immediately something had happened. 

She touched his arm.

And he had a breakdown in the college parking lot. 

Steve updated the tag on the side of the box and put it back on the shelf. He was,technically, working. Robin was ranting and using a tie-dye shirt as a prop. 

“You don’t need to crash our car trying to go kill a guy I’m not even mad at.”

“Ugh,” she flapped the shirt at him and slouched against the edge of the shelving unit. “Why not? Why are you not mad at him? How? I’m mad at him! He took the kids away from you! They’re annoying little shitheads but you loved them and he jus---”

“Rob,” he interrupted softly. He couldn’t get into that side of it right now. 

“Sorry. Sorry. But you’re not this nice, Stevie. You’re wonderfully bitchy and petty and it’s one of my favorite things about you, and I don’t get this. He sucks! This was super shitty! Why aren’t you mad at him for being an asshole?”

“It’s not his fault.”

“He said it was his fault!”

Eddie blamed himself, and maybe it was his fault, but it didn’t matter. Not in comparison.

“Are you going to inventory anything tonight, or is this just going to be me?”

“No! And why are you working?”

Because if he stopped, if he let himself turn his full attention towards it, he was going to fall apart again, and stupid as it was, checking inventory used up just enough of his focus that he couldn’t drown. Steve flicked through the stack of size smalls, and wrote it down on the list. “Uh, because we’re at work?”

“We both work tomorrow tonight and there is no way that Mary or Nick have ever looked at the stock sheets in their life, they aren’t going to look tomorrow either. No one will know.”

“I’ll know.” He glanced up to make eye contact for a second, and she caved with a groan. 

“If you were anyone but my soulmate, buddy…” She folded the shirt terribly, shoved it into the gap between the cardboard and the other shirts, and finally closed the box. 

Letting the silence settle gave Steve a minute to breathe, and reset himself without the rising tension. She knew that, and waited until, unspoken, she knew he was ready to keep going. 

“Steve.”

“I am mad, Robs. I am. You know that it’s.. At the kids, and at Hopper, and at myself for agreeing to this stupid idea, but I’m not mad at him.” 

“Why does he get special treatment?”

Hearing how that sounded, he tried again, “No, uh. I’m mad at him, but, like, the same way you get mad when the grandma in the crosswalk is going really slow and then drops something and goes back, and you end up stuck waiting again even though you should have made it through the light before. Yeah, it sucks, but it’s not like grandma was doing it specifically to fuck with you. She’s just, you know, shopping or whatever. 

“It wasn’t like there was a friendship there that he betrayed. He did something for his own life and it was sorta sucky, and it sucks for me, but he feels really shitty about it, so I don’t think he meant for them to, you know, vanish.”

Robin thumbed down the stack of Levis, whispering the count as she went. Three more sizes got counted before she responded. 

“You carried him out of there. You saved his life.”

Steve hummed absently. “He wasn’t bleeding that bad. His trash lid kept most of them off. I panicked when I saw blood and picked him up.”

“And that doesn’t make you friends?”

“It’s not like I only saved him because it was him. Not like I stopped and thought about whether I should get the bleeding guy to the hospital. Lifeguard, remember?” 

The other half of the thought, he bit back. He’d had nightmares about Billy after Starcourt. Dreams where he could have saved him, and didn’t. Where he could have saved Max from having to see that, having to recover from that. He saw Eddie bleeding, he saw one of his kids screaming, and there wasn’t a thought in his head. Just the need not to let it happen again. Not again. Not Dustin too. 

He kept his eyes on the inventory form so she didn’t see that part. 

“Still think it should have mattered more. Life saving creates friendships.”

“He was unconscious. I know you don’t know much about how guys act with each other, but generally both dudes are awake when they become friends.”

She snorted at his weak joke, throwing her pencil at him. It wasn’t anywhere near her. 

“New record, champ,  that one wasn’t even close enough for me to pretend to dodge it.”

“Ugh, I hate you.”

“Love you too, Robs.”

He got through a full set of kids dress shirts in peace, counted and listed. Then he pulled down the crate of kid’s dresses, next on the list to check. 

The whole can of worms would tear open when, if, when Eddie showed up with something from the kids. There was no version of that day that wouldn’t end with him falling apart. If he skimmed them, if he burned them, if he read them, if he wrote back, if he refused to take them at all, it didn’t matter. He was going to fall to pieces. 

If they wrote and it was real, if it was petty, if it was anger, if it was grief, if it was gloating he was gone, if it was begging him to come back, if it was proof that it was always fake, always a temporary placeholder until they found someone they actually like. The imminent breakdown was going to be bad no matter what. 

Like those safety videos in school about seat belts. 

Like knowing the car crash was coming, knowing it couldn’t be stopped, and knowing that nothing he did was going to make it any easier to bear. Slow motion, watching a car come -- a beat up old van come towards him. No time to put on a seat belt, no way to brace for it, just accept that it was going to happen and hope you survived.  

Robin cleared her throat to get his attention, and Steve blinked back to himself. 

“Did, uh, did you say something?”

Robin watched him for a minute. He let her this time. It was easier to let her see what he was feeling than try to turn it into words, and he needed her to let it go for now.. 

“I’m going to skip my bio lecture on Friday afternoon.”

“Birdie, you don’t--” 

“You are going to call in sick at the skate rink. We are going to make snickerdoodles and brownies and the cracker bark thing, and order pizza, and we’re going to make ourselves sick eating too much, and we’re going to watch some random movie on mute and make up our own story and dialogue. Got it?”

“Got it,” he smiled.

And it wasn’t going to make it all better. Eating two pounds of butter in a day wasn’t going to make it easier when Eddie showed up, but it was like hitting pause on that video. Car crash was still coming, but he could look away for a while. 

***

Steve clung to the pass shelf from the kitchen as the expected car crash hit him on Monday. John, always eager for the chance to throw someone out of the diner, looked over Steve’s shoulder. It was a nice moment. A nice little thought before he had to face what he’d agreed to. If he asked, John would throw Eddie out. Literally. Nice image, but not the one he got to see.

Instead, he declined the offer, and grabbed the plates. 

“Gimme a minute,” he mumbled to Eddie, heading to the sweet elderly couple celebrating the birth of their second granddaughter with a leisurely breakfast. If he spent an extra minute talking to them, complimenting the polaroid of what seemed to be some kind of mashed potato swaddled in white and pink, it was to get a good tip, not because he was stalling. 

Eddie hadn’t moved when he got back. He was a step back from the counter, stiff, holding a paper grocery bag under one arm, eyes trained on the ugly teal of the stool’s seat.

“Well?” Steve asked bitchily, “Did you bring milk and eggs and bread, honey?”

He put it on the counter, clutching the folded top hard, like he was making sure it stayed shut. 

Like it was full of spiders or something. Mutual sentiment.

Steve grabbed it, tossing it onto the shelf where they kept personal belongings and the leftovers they’d called dibs on. He hadn’t expected Eddie Munson to be up to Franklin at eight am on a Monday. Eddie wasn’t a morning person. Steve thought he’d have a few more hours to brace. Now he had to deal with customers while that bag burned a hole in the back of his head. 

Luckily, Rebecca was serious when she said he could get mean with guests if he wanted to. Today wasn’t a want. It was going to be a necessity. 

Eddie was still standing there. 

“You can tell them I got it, or whatever,” he tried to dismiss him.

Something that looked like the tortured remains of a smile flickered on Eddie’s face. He gave up after a second and nodded too many times. “Thanks. Thank you. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, right?”

It took a minute for Steve to catch up to the question. 

“I haven’t said I’m going to answer them. Or open them. Or keep them.”

Eddie was quiet for a minute, still not looking up, and Steve’s Travel-Size-Robin was vibrating with the need to make him so they could guess what the hell he was thinking. 

“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday mornings?” he repeated. 

“Yeah. Sure, yeah,” Steve gave up. 

Eddie left, and Steve did the entire day’s front of house prep before Susan got in, trying to keep his head away from that damn bag. 

***

Steve didn’t open it. 

He fell asleep in Robin’s bed, grateful he didn’t have other work that evening, and doubly grateful when she made him eat some crackers and drink some water before they passed out for the night. 

If he was waiting for the impact the day before, seeing Eddie again the next day was so unexpected that the crash whooshed past him without an impact. He didn’t sit down, and he looked a little rough, probably from driving to Franklin in the early morning twice in two days. 

“Do you have…?”

“No? No,” Steve boggled at him, “How could I have anything for you to even -- No. Man, no.” 

Eddie nodded. 

Eddie left. 

***

Steve stared at the bag instead of taking a nap before their shift in the stockroom. Didn’t open it, that was way, way beyond him, but he did manage to look directly at it, and it was only a few saltines, but he did successfully eat. 

Robin, angel, light of his life, soulmate and perfect person got in the car after class, handed him a kinda gross protein bar that she stole from an athlete in her class who she didn’t like, and made him eat it. 

She didn’t make him talk about the bag shaped elephant in their apartment, and she spent the entire shift explaining the way Ann Carson’s translations of Greek plays had totally shifted how people read them, making them more accessible, and how the push to do the same with Shakespeare was incredible. 

When he went to crawl into his own bed that night, she grumbled, brought her favorite pillow, and climbed in after him. 

***

Eddie walked in at quarter to seven, right after three four tops seated.

“No.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Eddie looked small, probably because he was speaking at a normal volume, sounding like a normal human, which ran opposite to how Eddie was in Hawkins. He also looked like crap. 

“Why are you here, dude? You hate mornings. You don’t have to leave that early, I work until one.”

Eddie scrunched his face, but didn’t answer that. 

“No?” he asked instead.

Someone at table six shouted ‘waiter!’ 

“I’ll bring your coffee in a damn minute!” Steve yelled back, half turning with the carafe in his hand.

“Steve?”

“Look, I don’t have anything for you. Nothing. You don’t need to waste your time. I haven’t opened it.”

“There’s more than one -- oh,” Eddie scrubbed over his face. “Okay. Yeah. Okay. Do-- Are you going to? Open it.”

Thinking about opening it made him want to run away to Canada. 

Thinking about never knowing made him want to puke. 

Whatever weird face Steve made was something Eddie could translate. He only raised his head for a moment, just long enough to look. But then he covered his face with both hands, taking a deep breath that shuddered on the exhale. 

“See you Monday,” he said as a goodbye.

“Where’s my coffee?” the same guy yelled. Steve didn’t have the energy to deal with customers and whatever the fuck was going on with Eddie’s early morning emotional mess. 

“Wait a second,” he complained to both of them at once. Steve grabbed one of the big mugs, the ones they used for the expensive hot chocolate, filled it with coffee, and set the pour jar of sugar next to it. He looked from Eddie to the cup, pointedly. “Don’t crash. Bring the cup back with you.”

The asshole yelled for him again, and Steve turned on the terrifyingly polite smile that Robin had helped him hone. Then he deployed it on the asshole at table six. 

---------------

We are headed towards Steddie, on a path that will, hopefully, not feel like I brushed off all this to get there. However. Wow, they're hurting right now. You can't have Eddie's pov yet, it would spoil things, but. just. trust me. ow.

Still don't do tag lists. Once I know how many parts it'll be, this will go to Ao3, promise.

[tyrantisterror]

I think one of the things that gets lost in the big, endless internet conversation about whether or not heroes should kill their villains is the fact that killing villains off robs you of a lot of story-telling potential. The Joker died at the end of his debut story in Batman - imagine what Batman would be if he stayed dead. No Joker in Batman 66, no The Killing Joke which means no Barbara Gordon as Oracle and no The Dark Knight, no Mark Hamill Joker episodes of BTAS (so many of them were based on his comic appearances, after all - the laughing fish is a direct adaptation of a comic), which means no Harley Quinn and no Return of the Joker, on and on it goes.

Like, you can argue the morality of heroes sparing their villains till you turn blue - god knows this site does it at least a thousand times a day - but on a purely pragmatic story-telling level, the minute you kill ANY character, you kill all the story potential they had. And yeah, it's fiction, you can bring them back from the dead if you really need them, but that's a pretty hard story beat to pull off without hurting your story. You don't want to fill your tale with "Somehow, Palpatine has returned" moments.

And you can just make new villains, sure, but again you have a problem with that - a new villain has to establish themselves and has to stand out from who came before, which means you can't go directly to the storylines you could have had with a villain who stuck around AFTER their introduction. A recurring villain is capable of doing things that one-off villains can't.

I'm going to illustrate this with a character from a fandom I'm not even a part of - I never played the Ratchet and Clank series and am only vaguely aware of it, but one day I saw a supercut of scenes starring one of its recurring villains, Dr. Nefarious, on twitter, and I was like "Oh shit, that's the guy who plays Quark on Deep Space Nine, isn't? This guys a hoot, let's see if we can find more clips on youtube." Which brought me to this hefty video here from one of the more recent games in the series.

And, like, as a person who "doesn't even go here," it's obvious this goofy little fucker has a history. His opening scenes have him ranting about how much it sucks to lose repeatedly - a lampshade on the "flaw" of a recurring villain, i.e. that their threat diminishes the more they come back because, by the nature of their role in the story, it means they've suffered a lot of losses. So how cool is it that as this supercut chugs along you can clearly see this is a theme of the game - that this is a story about the virtue of losing, a story that is enriched by having an antagonist who fans of the series know has lost a LOT?

The true antagonist is an alternate version of Dr. Nefarious who's won every fight in his life so far, apparently with little effort, and I love how they differ on a design aspect. They're both technically mad scientists, but notably, Emperor Nefarious, the winner, has a more imposing and "heroic" build, but a smaller brain-dome for his robot brains. Because winning may make him look strong, but if a mad scientist's real power is their mind, well, which Nefarious is really the strong one here then?

Dr. Nefarious gets this juicy arc about realizing the virtue in his repeated failures that corresponds with the heroic characters struggling to find a way to win against a seemingly invincible opponent, as well as contrasts the true villain, Dr. Nefarious's explicit counterpart and foil Emperor Nefarious, who has never once lost and is a total piece of shit for it. Again, not my fandom, I don't go here, not an expert on Ratchet and Clank, but even as a relative stranger to it who's just watching a big supercut, I fucking love this. This is an excellent story.

And it's one you can only tell with a recurring villain. Without Dr. Nefarious, this story works significantly less. You need a villain with a history the audience has seen to really sell this.

Anyway, I made this post because, ironically enough, I saw another tweet talking about how some fans think Dr. Nefarious should have been killed off in his first appearance, and, like... that's just fucking baffling to me, as a person outside this fandom looking in. Recurring villains deserve more love, man, they give us so much.

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 8

Hello! It does look like there is only one more chapter to write on Paper Hearts so yay!!! I'm not sure how much longer Sweet Home Indiana is but it's nearing it's end too.

Steve is never going to go to another party after this, Eddie gets book two of the Boy with a Bat, and they have a frank discussion about how Eddie gets paid for his less than legal side gig.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

trigger warning: homophobic language by an OC.

****

At least the swim team knew to how to throw a party. Lyle was hosting and even though his family wasn’t well off, not like Steve’s parents, there was still enough room for the whole team and a few of their friends to have a good time.

Granted there wasn’t any booze, not openly anyway, but there were ice chest after ice chest of canned sodas. And all kinds, too. Steve was on his third Coke and had already sussed out the dude with the beer and was working his way over.

Going right up to the guy was asking for trouble that neither of them wanted.

The music wasn’t too loud, but you could dance to it in the main part of the house. People were actually laughing and having fun.

Which really should have been Steve’s cue. The universe was out to get him and wouldn’t let him have a moment’s peace.

He had almost reached the guy with the beer when Ezra blocked his path.

“Hey, Steve,” he greeted syrupy sweet. “I’m so glad you made it out. I wasn’t sure if you would come without Eddie Munson.”

Steve frowned and tried to move around his co-captain. “I go lots of places without Eddie. I went to nationals without him, didn’t I?”

Ezra put his hand on Steve’s chest to stop him. “Sure you did, but we didn’t win nationals now, did we?”

Steve looked down at the hand on his chest. “We swam our hearts man, the other teams were just better. Hell, that team from Georgia was on fire.”

Ezra snorted and rolled his eyes. “They only got where they were because they were black. They didn’t have any real talent. Not like us. Not like you and me, Steve.”

“Are you saying Lyle and Nick held us back?” he asked with his brow furrowing deeper in his confusion.

“We’ve always known that Lyle is a strong swimmer and not a fast one,” Ezra moaned waving the drink in his other hand around. “But he’s all this shit town has on offer.”

Steve gently pushed Ezra off of him. “Hey, how about not talking shit about the actual host, man.”

Ezra rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he huffed. “That’s not even why I’m over here. I’m here to warn you about Munson.”

And there it was. Everyone in his life had felt the need at some point in the last six months to warn him off the super senior.

The other boy leaned in close, his lips a snarl. “He’s a queer, a little faggot boy,” he hissed, the spit landing on Steve’s face. “It’s the town’s worst kept secret.”

Ice slid down Steve’s spine. Oh shit. Of all the places he thought the other co-captain was going to go, that was not it. Drugs. DND. The ranting on table tops. All that slid away to sheer terror.

“And you better not bend over in the showers,” Ezra continued, “a pretty thing like you would just be his type.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Wha–what do you mean?”

“Everyone knows that if you can’t pay for your weed,” Ezra sneered, “that he’s willing to take a blowjob as payment instead.” He leaned further into Steve’s space, so that they were almost touching, the stench of weed radiating off the other boy in waves. “I saw Harry Masters sucking him off for a gram of the good stuff.”

Steve stomach lurched and swooped, bile rising up in his throat. Harry Masters was on the baseball team. He was tall, good looking, with that devil may care charm of Rob Lowe. Looked like him, too.

“What he does or doesn’t do doesn’t effect me, man,” he said, trying to aim for nonchalant and missing by a mile.

Ezra laughed in his face.

“Dude,” he cackled, “if you didn’t want people to think you’re down bad for ‘the Freak’ maybe rein in the eye fucking. I’ve seen the way you look at him and it makes me sick.”

That was when Steve got it. He had been wondering what the hell this conversation was.

“Oh my god!” he laughed. “Fuck, man, you were scaring me for a second there. You’re just jealous I don’t have the hots for you.”

Ezra pushed him. “The fuck I do, Harrington!”

“No, no!” Steve crowed. “I’ve got it all figured it out. All the times I caught you staring at me, all the times I felt someone watching me, all the times you’d try to keep me late after practice. You wanted me all to yourself.”

His co-captain turned purple with rage and swung at Steve, but before he could even flinch, there was someone at his side, holding Ezra’s wrist to keep the hit from even going anywhere near Steve’s face.

“Eddie!” Steve breathed. “What are you doing here?”

Eddie smiled at him with that soft dimpled grin Steve loved. “Hey ya, Stevie. I was just plying my wares when I heard the commotion and came over to make sure you were all right.”

“So you are my good luck charm,” Steve said brightly.

Ezra wrenched his arm out of Eddie’s hand. “This doesn’t concern you, Freak!”

Eddie leaned in close and cocked his head to the side. “It does, because you were talking shit about me and Stevie, here. And as Stevie’s good friend, I’mma gonna come to his rescue. Now, you’re going to skedaddle on home and sleep all this off.”

Ezra spat in his face. “Or what?”

The older teen just smiled menacingly. “Or else that gram you smoked will be the last you ever smoke, because I’ll report to you for doping for matches.”

Ezra paled and he gulped. “You can’t do that! I’ve never done anything but weed.”

“That’s true,” Eddie admitted. “But they’d have to do this big investigation and your name would be dragged through the mud. Or you could toddle off and go to college and leave this town in your rearview mirror.”

Ezra turned on his heel and ran out of the house as if the hounds of hell were on his tail.

Steve shook his head. “You do know this is where all the allegations about you being a devil worshiping cult leader come from, right?”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “They can think all they want.”

*

Eddie and Steve talked about what Ezra had said about how people make payments for their weed.

“I won’t deny that people have offer to blow me or even have sex with me in exchange for drugs,” Eddie said as they lay curled up on his bed. “But I’ve never taken anybody up on that.”

Steve twisted his head to look up at his boyfriend. “I can’t say I’m not pleased to hear that, but is there a reason why?”

“Several,” he admitted pulling Steve in closer. “One is that there is an actual fucking pandemic going on regarding gay men, and I wouldn’t trust those assholes even with a condoms. Another is that if I say yes to one, then I’ve got to say yes to next guy. And as my supplier wants actual cash for his product, blow jobs aren’t currency in any country I know of. And despite what Ezra said, most of the people offering aren’t men.”

Steve hummed as he snuggled under Eddie’s chin. “I can see that. Any other reasons why you won’t?”

“Does having a super hot boyfriend count?” he chuckled.

Steve kissed the underside of his jaw. “That’s a very good reason.” His hand slipped down his boyfriend’s side and to his belt. “A super hot boyfriend who is very grateful for the rescue.”

Eddie moaned as Steve’s fingers ghosted over his zipper. “Yeah and how are you going to show that gratitude?”

Steve slid down Eddie body and undid his belt. “I was thinking it was such a shame you didn’t get those blow jobs when your cock is so delectable.”

Eddie gasped and threw back his head as his super hot boyfriend’s breath felt hot on the front of his boxers. “God, baby. Show me what you’ve got.”

And Steve spent their evening doing just that.

*

Steve fidgeted nervously at Eddie’s locker after school. He had finished the most recent comic with only a week of school to spare. He had made sure that Jonathan and Nancy weren’t staying after school for any reason so they didn’t see him make the hand off. He knew he should have just done it at the trailer, but with him cutting it so fine before the end of the year, he didn’t want to make Jeff and the others wait for it.

Eddie loped over to his boyfriend and looked around. “Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

He thrust the comic at Eddie, his eyes downcast. “It’s the most recent comic. There’s an explanation like before. But please don’t let people see that part.”

Eddie cradled the comic to his chest. “I’ll be careful, I promise. I’m guessing this means you aren’t coming over tonight?”

Steve shook his head. “Lucas wants to go see the latest Bond film, but his friends don’t want to go with him...”

“So you offered to take him,” Eddie finished. “That’s sweet of you.”

Steve snorted and shook his head. “His parents think I’m taking him to ‘Meet the Littles’ or some shit like that.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Yeah, that’s more like the Steve Harrington I know and love.”

“I’ll call when I get home, though...” he muttered, running his fingers through his hair.

“Okay,” Eddie murmured. “Well talk then.”

*

This time Eddie went straight to the back page to read the explanation first.

“Hey, Eds,

Again there are parts in between this, parts that don’t include me, that I’ll some day tell you all about. But I’m focusing on the parts I was part of. This time it all started with what the kids thought was a new species of lizard and turned out to be the beginning stages of an Upside Down monster. One they they dubbed the demodog.

I can just picture you frowning as you try to remember where you heard that from and the answer is you heard it from me. You asked me what it was and I told you it from one of their game thingies, but that’s only part of it. These demodogs have flower faces and run on four legs. They are part of a hive mind that allows them to communicate with each other.

Dustin had taken one of these things home and it ate his cat. His cat. You can be disgusted, I know I was. He had originally gone to Nancy’s for help but she had gone off with Jonathan about something related to Barb Holland. This was right after our fight at the Halloween party.

I was on my way with roses to apologize to her, when he intercepted me. And the rest is as they say is history. I would do anything for that kid now.

The other players are Lucas Sinclair and Max Mayfield. I don’t know if you need to know that, but I feel like you have to understand that for the rest of it to make sense.

I have so many tales to tell you but I can’t because it could get you hurt and that is the last thing I want to do.

Also, (blurred words) show you all the times I was brave, that I did the (more blurred words) when it came (blurred words) because I love you so much and (blurred words again) less of me.

Love,

Your Stevie”

Eddie hated how easy Steve had pegged him for frowning at the name like he said he would or how he knew he would be disgusted at the poor cat. He stared at the blurred words for a moment before his own eyes welled up.

Steve had tried writing over the parts with what were clearly tear drops but all it had done was make it worse. Why he didn’t just write again, Eddie didn’t know.

But Eddie could now make out the words, “Also, I wanted to show you all the times I was brave, that I did the right thing when it came to it, because I love you so much and I didn’t want you thinking less of me.”

He flipped back to the beginning and started reading. It was thrilling and exciting. That was if you didn’t know it really happened. And happened to the sweetest boy he had the privilege of knowing.

He wiped away his tears and made a promise to whatever it took to protect this boy with every fiber of his being. Because by god, someone had to.

****

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

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[owlphibiaisthebest15]

Hi guys! I want to talk about a minor problem I have with Amphibia and how they could've been done better. I will not be talking about any of the big problems that people have already complained about, like Sasha and Marcy's lack of screentime, their character arcs, parents, nobody talking about Marcy after "True Colors", yada yada yada, because we don't need another post like that, and I want to keep this overdue rant as short as possible. This is based on my personal opinions along with a few others, but feel free to disagree with me if you want. But with further, let us begin...

Anne almost always gets way too easily forgiven for f*cking up.

Okay! This one may be a hot take because I have never seen another person complain about this. But this has been eating me away for MONTHS, and if no one else is going to say it, then I will. While this occasionally extends to some other characters depending on the episode. The one I want to talk about most is Anne. Now, at the start of the series, Anne was pretty much a jerk with a heart of gold. She was selfish, bratty, lazy, and irresponsible, but she did learn from the mistakes that she made and became a true hero by the end of the series. While some of these flaws and mistakes are not worth talking about, there are still others that are actually worse than what the show's narrative portrays them to be.

They may not be as bad as leading a toad army to invade the capital city, burying the only thing that could get Anne home, or sending your friends to another world on purpose. Anne has still made some pretty questionable decisions, even to the point where they often cross the line.

Here's a list of some of the worst things Anne Boonchuy has ever done from Season 1 and 2:

Breaking Hop Pop's favorite cane that also happens to be a keepsake of his father and grandfather all while making fun of him.

Manipulating Sprig into taking Bessie the family Snail on a Joyride without reading. Which is like someone taking a car out for a spin without a driver's permit.

Forcing Sprig to marry Maddie despite his obvious discomfort for Pizza Dough and later forces him to date Ivy while he's still engaged to Maddie.

Faking being sick to get out of farm duty, which led the Plantars getting sick themselves and even thought they were all going to die from red leg.

Slacking off while she was supposed to be protecting the frozen townsfolk, while aware of what happens to one of them while they're frozen. Which, of course, led to Polly almost getting eaten by a giant weasel.

Causes massive property damage with Polly while on the streets of Newtopia, and later breaks into Newtopia University in hopes of finding a rad college party. The second one was Polly's idea, but Anne had no problem going along with it.

A team effort along with her frog family. Sending a giant chicken to attack Wartwood. Which BTW can create tornadoes, breathe fire, and even turned their loved ones into stone, all because they forgot to buy everyone gifts. Sure, Anne was against the idea, but she still went along with it.

What do characters usually respond with when Anne admits her mess ups?! "It's okay! You're good! What you did was serious, but it doesn't matter that we almost died, as long as you learned your lesson."

Though Anne still at least got a lot better, as the worst things she's done in Season 3 were covering up some major plot points from her parents, robbing a museum to get a clue on how to find a way back to Amphibia, and tricking Blair the Balloonist into flying a hot air balloon. Though, the first one is still a little f*cked up, but she did have selfless reasons for doing these, and she came clean for 2/3 of these.

But still, 90% of this show is just a lighthearted slice of life cartoon, but when it shifts to its dark story driven and plot twisting side, this is where the narrative (and by some extent Anne herself) gets pretty hypocritical. It's pretty much when Anne messes up and lies to other characters. It's a simple error in judgment. But when other main characters such as Sasha, Marcy, and even Hop Pop do the same to her, first they gotta face hell for it, and then they get their redemption arc.

Yes! They did do some serious sh*t, and Anne had a right to be mad at them. But it seems that other characters are just not allowed to even stay mad at Anne when she does pretty similar sh*t. I mean, yes, she does try to make up for it, and yes, she admits what she's done most of the time, and eventually, she does become a better person from them. But so have Hop Pop, Sasha, and Marcy. But again, they didn't get the protagonists treatment. They got hurt and thrown around like ragdolls because of one or two big mistakes, and even that wasn't enough.

While Anne sometimes faces some consequences for her actions, like breaking Hop Pop's heirloom cane with HP giving her dish duty for a month (Cmon man! You should've given her way more than that!), gets banned from an arcade because she threatened to eat newt kids for cutting in line (which is not important), and most importantly, gets stranded in Amphibia after being peer pressured by her friends to shoplift it, all on her 13th birthday. Which I guess was enough for karma itself to feel so bad for her that she will hardly ever worry about facing any lasting consequences for her misdeeds ever again. While karma beats the cr*p out of others who would dare lie and betray our precious protagonists, even when they have sympathetic reasons for doing so.

Speaking of, this leads to me to clarify something that some fans have misinterpreted since the beginning of the series. The flashback scene in the second episode, "Best Fronds," was intended to show where Anne's distorted views on friendship and some of her toxic traits come from. Not to justify every single bad decision Anne has ever made, like what some fans think.

While I'm not gonna say that Anne was just as bad as Sasha before Amphibia, as it does show that Anne had her own personal flaws that she had to get through without depending on her friends. Who were more enabling her flaws than causing them.

However, while the show does try to show that Anne wasn't exactly much better in their friend dynamic than they were. For the reasons I mentioned earlier, it instead paints Anne as the least toxic one or not being toxic at all. With them only making a handful of moments that show that even after their betrayals, Anne still isn't much better than them. But the usual wacky slice of life narrative in her character development episodes downplays the severity of her actions, with Anne only just getting an emotional lesson after nearly getting everyone killed, and some of the said lessons being brought up in a few episodes to test her character or as examples to show others how much she has grown.

Now, I'm going to do some comparisons between Amphibia and The Owl House. While there are several things that Amphibia did better than TOH and about an equal amount of things TOH did better than Amphibia. One of those things that The Owl House did better than Amphibia was the writers treating each and every character fairly. The characters make mistakes and learn from them without the narrative downplaying the seriousness of their mistakes, and it isn't always "Okay! You're forgiven! What you did was serious, but it doesn't matter that we almost died. You learned your lesson, and that's what matters." While it doesn't give other characters the short end of the forgiveness stick for doing similar sh*t. With that, it also makes the character arcs a little bit better, in my opinion.

However, I'm not saying that Anne's character development was bad or that Matt Braly is treating Anne like how some see Alex Hirsch did with Mabel. The show did alright with changing a bratty teenager with flawed views of friendship into a true and selfless hero. All of what I described seems to what TV Tropes would call "Protagonist Centered Morality," and if I'm being honest, but because of that reason, I don't find Anne to be the most appealing character to me. I'm sorry! I know that a lot of you love her, and she's the second most popular character in the show; with the first being Marcy (my favorite), but I don't even dislike her either. I just feel that the narrative could've done better in treating the characters more fairly, like how TOH did with their characters. I really want to like Anne more than I do now, but for what I described, it makes it kinda hard for me to.

That's it for my opinions on this. This was longer than I thought, so if you read it this far or read it at all. You either think that I have a point and should do more of this or my analysis stinks, and I should never speak my dumb mind again. I'll probably see how this goes either way. If anybody else here still cares about this show.

[creadigol]

Hey y’all! Here’s a little snippet of something that was rattling in my mind. Hope y’all like!

It can be complicated to make sense of family. Hero knew this. Hero had always known this. With how their life was growing up Hero doubted there were many who could understand this concept as well as they did.

But this was just ridiculous.

“The answer is still no,” Hero tried very hard to keep their voice level and calm.

“Seriously? I don’t understand what your problem is!”

The voice over the phone held the tone of one who had already decided they were right and there was no chance of changing.

“It’s not that I have a problem…which I don’t,” Hero ground out. “It’s that I just don’t feel like inviting him.”

“And why not?”

Hero resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of their nose. One, it was a bad habit which showed how frustrated they were; and two, it would loosen their mask. God, couldn’t their sibling have called earlier? Hero really didn’t feel like having this conversation on the roof of a bank at 11pm.

“I don’t need a reason. It’s my call and I don’t want him there. End of story.”

“No, not end of story! This is completely unfair! Why am I always the one trying to hold this family together? You think it’s easy being the responsible one when…”

Hero let the rant commence as they held the phone a few inches from their ear, Sibling gradually getting louder and more hurtful with each word. They looked up at the star bedazzled sky and tried to tune them out until they could jump back in again.

It’s not that Sibling was wrong, it’s just that Hero could only take being called absent and holier than thou so many times. It was the same speech every time a major event happened in Hero’s life. And at the end of every speech, Hero always caved and let Sibling invite the whole family…well not this time.

‘...and out of everyone, you of all people should take the high road on this…”

That did it.

“Me of all people? Why? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Dammit, I’m tired of being the one to take the high road! For once would it kill him to apologize? Or better yet, clean up his fucking act?!”

Sibling was making sputtering noises on the line when another voice joined Hero on the roof.

“Well, I must say I’ve never heard words like this before coming from our fair Hero.”

Hero froze, their sibling yelling into the receiver, and turned.

Villain stood, arms folded, looking incredibly smug.

“I’m going to have to call you back,” Hero said softly. They hung up before Sibling could protest.

Shit, they would hear about that later.

Villain sauntered closer, “Having a little domestic are we? I’ve never seen you that agitated before.”

Hero glared, “Coming to rob the bank?”

Villain chuckled.

“I was, but this is so much more interesting. Come on, what’s happening in the world of the Golden Hero?”

“None of your business,” Hero stood tall. “Now are you breaking the law or not? I have a long patrol tonight.”

“Oh yes, I heard you were taking the long shift tonight. Something about needing time off…wait…that couldn’t be what you were arguing about on the phone was it? Vacation plans gone wrong?”

Hero felt a vein popping in their forehead.

“Why must you alway insist on being a prick? And why do you know my shift schedule?”

Villain shrugged noncommittally, “I have people.”

They walked right into Hero’s space, doing their best to intimidate with their towering stature. Hero refused to move and met their gaze head on.

“You’ve never taken a break before.” Villain stated.

“Never needed to until now,” Hero responded as if Villain had asked a question.

Villain gave them a once over.

“What’s the need?”

God, was Villain always this infuriating?

“Like I said, none of your business. I’m sure you’ll survive a substitute hero for the next few weeks.”

Villain frowned, “Few weeks? That’s a lengthy time.”

Hero rolled their eyes and nodded. They weren’t falling for Villain’s way of fishing for information by not actually asking a question.

“A few weeks and a family member who’s not welcome…if I’m to interpret that phone call correctly. My, my, what do you have planned?” Villain finally took a few paces back to lean on the wall, “Can’t say I’m too thrilled. Other Hero’s are such tight-asses.”

“If you mean that I’m lenient then, yes, they’re not as nice as I am,” Hero smirked.

Villain outright laughed.

“I would describe you as many things Hero, but straight up nice has never been one of them. Seriously, why the vacation? Family reunion or something?”

If Hero’s Sibling had anything to say on the matter it would be.

“Not as such,” Hero relaxed their stance now that Villain was a few paces away. That and it seemed Villain was more in a talking mood tonight. It was rare that they just talked rather than taking on their usual ‘Hero vs Villain’ roles. Rare, but it had happened a handful of times over the course of the last four years. Whether this was professional or not, Hero chose not to think about.

Villain folded their arms in thought, “Birthday? No, yours is in March…A celebration for another medal from the Mayor? No, he’s out of town until next month…” Hero tried hard not to smile as Villain ticked each possibility off their fingers, “Oh I know! You’ve finally graduated high school!”

Now Hero did laugh. It was a running joke with them and Villain’s Henchman that Hero must be younger than they seemed due to their young sound voice. Of course there was no way to tell due to the mask, but Hero estimated they were about the same age as Villain. Something they were sure Villain had put together as well seeing as the Hero Agency didn’t employ anyone under the age of 21.

It didn’t stop the quips though.

“Afraid I did that long ago,” Hero supplied.

“Well then I’m at a loss,” Villain got up and leaned into Hero’s space once more. “Other than medical leave I can’t think of anything else. And I assume you wouldn’t be fighting about invitees if convalescence was your goal.”

“Guess you’ll just have to live with uncertainty,” Hero shrugged and turned to leave the roof. Before they could take a couple of steps a hand was on their arm.

“You really not going to tell?” Villain asked softly. “You seemed upset and not the kind of upset like when you're on the job.”

Hero felt their heart rate increase and their cheeks warm. Why did Villain have to go and ask like that? How could they go from the city’s terror to a caring person with humanity and feelings? Perhaps Hero could tell them…the event was happening down in the Bahamas anyway. Not like Villain could figure it out…

It would be nice to talk to someone not expecting anything from them.

“I have a celebration happening and I don’t want my father to be there…it’s caused rather a ruckus in my family.”

Villain’s hand remained on Hero’s arm. “Well, if it’s your celebration it’s your choice. I don’t see why anyone else should be involved.”

Hero laughed and patted their hand. “And you’ve just summarized the entire argument I’ve been having for the past month.”

Villain released their arm. “I’m smart like that.”

Hero nodded with a warm smile. They turned towards the fire escape.

“Seeing as how you don’t seem to be robbing the bank, I have places to be,” They turned so they were facing Villain while standing on the ladder. “Thanks Villain. I’ll see you in a few weeks if you manage to keep yourself alive.”

“Say that to your replacement hero.” Villain hesitated, “Hero?”

Hero popped their head up from their descent, “Yeah?”

“What is the celebration?”

Hero smiled softly at them.

“I’m getting married,” they whispered.

And then they were gone. Down the fire escape and into the night.

Villain stood stunned, not knowing why the words made their heart freeze and their eyes water.

[elvenisms]

friday —; s.h.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader [3.5k]

summary: Robin orchestrates the best (and worst) Valentine's Day of your life.

cw: angst, fluff, cursing, no use of y/n, steve is an idiot (per usual), reader cries a lot (relatable), happy ending.

author's note: i got carried away with this, ngl. proof that i cannot write anything fluffy without angst. enjoy!

masterlist

It was Thursday.

Thursdays were good days. You didn’t work, giving you some well-needed rest from wearing that stupid vest, rewinding tapes, and dealing with late returns. You could throw on a movie you’d been meaning to watch for weeks, invite some friends over, and veg out. You could go see a show at The Hideout, if someone interesting was playing. Sometimes, Thursday was laundry day. But today wasn’t any Thursday.

Today was Thursday, February 13th, 1986. The day before Valentine’s Day.

“Vickie and I are going to do something, we just don’t know what.” Robin pushed her lips together, toying with a loose piece of thread on your couch. “I mean, obviously we’ll have a little date during the day, but we thought a group thing would be fun, ya’ know?”

Eddie had come over to watch Day of the Dead with you that day, and when Robin got off work, she called to see what you were up to. “Hanging out with Eds, pretending Valentine’s Day doesn’t exist.” You’d quipped, which is precisely how she ended up in your house, talking about Valentine’s Day.

“As much as I’d love to third-wheel,” Eddie stretched. “I’m going to see a show. Some new guys, but I heard they’re good.”

“Yeah, I’m…” You wracked your brain for something you had to do, trying to get out of it, just as Eddie had. “I’m, uh, working. And then… Oh, I told Max I’d help her study? Some test she has. Science, I think.”

Eddie and Robin both eyed you judgmentally. It was entirely unconvincing, and also a lie. The Max part, anyway.

“Oh, give me a break,” You grunted, their faces saying enough. “I already told you, Rob, tomorrow is just Friday as far as I’m concerned.”

“But you don’t want it to just be Friday,” She remarked. “You want it to be Valentine’s Day, but you’re lonely.”

A huff of air came through Eddie’s nose, trying not to laugh at her well-meaning bluntness. You gave him a sour look, and he quickly dropped it.

“Thank you for reminding me,” You muttered, leaning forward to pick up some empty beer bottles from the table, carrying them to the trash can in the kitchen.

You weren’t actually mad, not at Robin. You were frustrated with the fact that you cared about some stupid holiday, that you couldn’t just be like Eddie, who genuinely didn’t give a shit. Unwilling to admit it to yourself, you were also mad that every guy in Hawkins you’d gone out with was a total disaster; Matthew Campbell probably couldn’t tie a shoelace if you asked him to, and you told him that, so you didn’t suspect he’d be knocking on your door tomorrow.

You waltzed back into the living room to your unsuspecting victims, now on a tirade you’d created in your own head. “It’s not my fault that there is no one in this town for me, okay? I’ve officially given up. I’m tired of putting on makeup, going to Enzo’s, and making awful small talk, for which the reward is a lackluster trip to second base in the back of a ca—”

Robin gasped as if she’d seen a ghost. Your rant halted, staring at her, and she looked back with wide eyes, jaw agape. “How have I never put this together?”

She looked like she’d just had a stroke of genius, discovered a new element, or something. You looked at Eddie, then back to her. “Put what together? That I’m hopeless?”

“No, no no,” She leapt up off of the couch, starting to pace. “You sound just like—oh my God, this is incredible. I mean, this is actually perfect—”

“Robin!” You threw your arms out, exasperated, letting them smack against your sides.

“Steve!” She exclaimed, gripping your shoulders. “Steve, who is also lonely and has no plans for tomorrow!”

Your insides twisted. Steve.

You would’ve been lying to yourself if you said you’d never thought about him that way before. I mean, you had eyes, but your close friendship had never allowed it to last more than a minute. More than anything, the two of you poked fun at each other, constantly trying to see who could get the last word. But you were still close, close enough that you knew he’d come running if you ever really needed him, and that was… nice.

Everything about him was nice, really.

You blinked at Robin, your gears shifting at impossible speeds. She was still holding your shoulders, expectant.

“I think she’s on board.” Eddie piped up with a smirk, and you instantly held a finger out to him, still looking at the girl in front of you. “I didn’t say that.”

“You’re saying it with your eyes.” Robin was containing a giddy squeal. You could almost feel her vibrating. 

“No, no, I’m not.” You finally broke free from her grasp. Now you were pacing. “If Steve was interested in me, he would’ve said something a long time ago.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Are we talking about the same guy?”

“Yeah, dingus, with a capital ‘D’,” Robin gestured with her hands. “I saw a bird land on his head once and he asked me what I was looking at. You think he’d notice he had a shot with you?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Okay, that’s… yeah, you’re right. But I’m not just gonna call him up and ask him to be my Valentine. I’d rather puke.”

“So don’t!” Robin spun around, another lightbulb behind her eyes. “I have an idea.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

This was a terrible idea.

You were staring into your mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles on your clothes. You’d gone for not-trying-too-hard cute; a black turtleneck with a calf-length, patterned skirt, and a thick belt around your waist. You’d done your hair and your makeup, satisfied with them, but this time felt… different. You weren’t going to Enzo’s with some tip-stiffing lowlife. You were seeing Steve.

Robin had suggested a gathering at your place. She, Vickie, Nancy, and Jonathan were sitting in your living room, sipping drinks, chatting mindlessly. When she’d invited Steve, she’d said that the four of them were going to your house—assuming he’d pick up the hint, and jump at the chance to be your date. 

And he did.

The real reason you’d never allowed Steve to infiltrate your mind was because, well, that’s exactly what he’d do. You could handle losing Matthew Campbell, or Ben Taylor, or any of these meaningless Hawkins guys you never realistically saw yourself with in the first place; but Steve was close. Close to your friends, close to your heart, inching ever nearer by the minute. 

It was terrifying. But then again, he agreed to come—–and that made your stomach flutter.

Deciding you’d spent enough time making sure every last hair was in order, you took a deep breath, venturing back out to the living room. You were greeted with warm, knowing smiles. 

“You look gorgeous.” Nancy rose from her seat, coming over to give your arms a comforting rub. “Really, he’s not gonna know what hit him.”

You nodded, trying not to look as nervous as you felt. “Thanks, Nance.”

“It makes so much sense, doesn’t it? I mean, I really should play matchmaker more often. I’m changing lives here!” Robin shook Vickie’s thigh where her hand rested, excitedly. It made everyone chuckle.

Jonathan took another sip of his drink. “Now you’ve just gotta find someone for Ed—”

A knock at the door. Fuck. In an instant, every ounce of confidence you had flew straight out of the window. And your face must’ve shown it, because Nancy began soothing you again. 

“Hey, look at me.” She whispered, and you did. “You’ve never been this nervous to see him before, right? Pretend this is just another day. Just… Friday.”

You swallowed. It definitely wasn’t just Friday anymore.

Nonetheless, you shot a weak, thankful smile at her, making your way up to the door. Usually, you’d be embarrassed to let your friends see you this way—taking deep breaths, shaking your hands to relieve some anxious energy. Right now, though, you couldn’t care less, much too preoccupied with the thought of Steve’s face. Just open it. Open the door.

So, you did.

And there he was, grinning adorably, smelling of his cologne, wearing a well-fitted sweater... Holding hands with a girl.

“Hey,” He spoke happily, though his eyes searched your face for just a moment, as if you’d let the shock slip through. “This is Brenda.”

Your whole body stiffened, knowing that the rest of the group heard him, and were now searing holes through the back of your head. Your stomach flipped over on itself, even your organs mortified.

“Hi, Brenda.” You forced a smile at the girl, as if every nerve in your body wasn’t on fire. “Come on in.”

As you turned around, you studied the expressions in the room, seeking some kind of escape. Nancy and Vickie at least tried to look normal, staring at the ground or taking a sip of their drink; Jonathan’s brow was furrowed in disbelief, and Robin’s mouth was hanging open, eyes locked on you.

You quickly walked to the couch where Nancy and Jonathan sat, just standing beside it, your fight-or-flight instinct physically unwilling to let you sit. At least Steve and Brenda would have a spot now, right?

The embarrassment was already making your eyes water.

As the two of them entered the uncomfortably silent living room, you saw his eyes scan the room, similarly to how you had—like he was searching for something. And when he didn’t find it, his eyes landed back on you, any trace of his previous smile gone.

“It’s so nice to meet you guys!” Brenda chirped to the group, the tension completely unnoticed by her.

You felt suffocated. Suffocated by your turtleneck, by the silence, by Brenda’s curly, blonde hair and perfectly pink lips—but mostly by Steve, who was still staring at you. You refused to look back. 

“Music!” You squawked, mind numb. “We should put on some music, it’s so quiet—” You strided toward your box of cassettes, sat beside the television, and began scrambling with them. “—I’ve got Tears for Fears, or, um, oh! ABBA, everyone likes ABBA, right? Uh…”

Without you even noticing, Nancy appeared at your side, gently grabbing the tapes from your hands. “Hey, hey. I’ll pick out some music, okay?” Her voice was quiet, forehead creased in concern.

Your movements slowed. You nodded, eyes half-welled with tears. The dam was definitely about to break.

“Okay, well,” You stood up again, arms swaying slightly, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. “You guys sit. I’m, um… I’ll be right back.”

You spun on your heel, making your way to your bedroom, closing the door behind you by leaning on it. The tears began to fall immediately, streaking your face with mascara.

You felt stupid. Stupid for ever letting Robin set this up, stupid for spending so much time making yourself presentable, when Brenda looked so effortlessly beautiful. You’d convinced yourself it would be some sort of magical night, which seemed ridiculous now. Why would Steve want you? More importantly, why would you ever let him affect you this way?

Your chest heaved, trying desperately to keep quiet. The last thing you wanted was more pity.

Soon enough, you heard a soft click from the living room, the faint sounds of Kate Bush coming through the speakers. You considered your options: hide in your room until the party was over, risk someone coming to check on you, go back out there and endure stares of sympathy, or… Leave. 

A rush of adrenaline surged through you, bringing you to your feet. You went to your mirror, attempting to smear away the black marks under your eyes—it was useless, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. Eddie would call it metal. So, for where you were headed, it was actually perfect.

You snatched your purse off of the dresser, the hurt morphing from sadness to anger, and marched out into the living room, making a bee-line for the front door. Everyone’s heads perked up. Your hand met the doorknob, gripping it tightly, before Steve appeared next to you.

“Hey, can you just wait a sec—where are you going?” He spoke softly, avoiding the rest of the rooms prying ears. His voice was hoarse.

You didn’t look at him. “I’m going to see a show with Eddie.”

“Can you let me explain? Please, just—”

Your head turned sharply, reddened eyes daggering through his solemn, brown ones. “I’m embarrassed, Steve. I’m…” You swallowed, fighting back any more tears. “I can’t be here right now. Can’t I just go?”

He brought a hand up, running it anxiously through his own hair. He looked dejected, and despite how much you wanted to hate him at this moment, your heart panged. It wasn’t enough to make you stay; not when Brenda was still on your couch. Not when the rest of the group felt sorry for you.

“Okay,” He finally breathed, barely audible. You started to open the door, and he softly took hold of your wrist. “Just be safe. Please.”

You looked at him, heart thrumming in your chest, eyelashes stuck together from the mixture of tears and makeup. “Have a good night. I’m… I’m sorry I ruined it.”

And with that, you were out the door, despite his attempt to say something else.

 · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The show was an adequate distraction.

When you’d shown up at The Hideout, scouting Eddie out in the crowd, he was shocked to see you. He was even more shocked to see the state you were in—makeup destroyed, eyes puffy, a hand clinging shakily to your purse. He immediately threw an arm around you, eyes expectant for an explanation.

“He brought a girl,” you’d shouted over the music. Eddie couldn’t have rolled his eyes any harder, squeezing your arm in frustration. “He’s even dumber than I thought then,” He yelled back. 

Steve was dumb. Purposefully dumb? You didn’t think so, and that made it all the more difficult to stay angry.

You were thankful for Eddie more than ever. He was always great at taking your mind off of things, getting you to let loose, have fun; it may have been the worst Valentine’s Day of your life, but at least he had given it some kind of silver lining. It was almost impossible not to smile around him, especially when he was acting extra goofy, insistent on lifting your spirits.

When he drove you home, the events of the night began to set in again. You dreaded your next conversation with Steve, whenever that would happen—I’m so sorry, but I just don’t feel that way about you, you could hear him saying, shoving the embarrassment deeper down your throat.

You considered never speaking to him again, just to spare yourself that feeling.

“Do you want me to come in?” Eddie laid a gentle hand on your knee, his beaten-up car parked a few feet from your door. 

“No, I’m okay.” You assured him, unconvincingly, and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Think I just need to wallow tonight, y’know?”

He nodded, looking down at his lap. “I’m sorry, seriously. Kind of want to kill the kid.”

That brought a small smile to your face. “Don’t tempt me, I might just give you the go-ahead.” 

The two of you looked at each other, sharing a small chuckle. Eventually, you reached over, hugging him tight.

“Thank you for tonight. Really, I needed it.” You whispered, and he gave your back a comforting rub. “Anytime, you know that.”

You exited the car, already starting to wish you’d said yes to Eddie’s offer, and made your way to the door. Through the windows, you could see that most of the lights were off—everyone had gone home, thank God, though you were sure Robin and Nancy would be calling off the hook to talk about everything.

You jiggled the handle open, greeted by your dark living room, apart from the one lamp emanating warm light. And underneath it, Steve.

Sitting upright on the couch, head leaned back, arms crossed. Fast asleep.

You froze, a tightness in your chest. It was exactly what you didn’t want right now, to see him, have to talk to him. And for whatever reason, something in you was glad to find him there. 

You softly shut the door behind you, sat your bag on the coffee table, and took a seat beside him. The cushion dipping under your weight caused him to stir awake: his head lulled to the side, eyes fluttering open. They widened at the sight of you. 

“Hey.” His voice was gravelly from sleep, and he was quick to adjust himself to a more awake position. He cleared his throat, though it did little for his voice. “You’re home.”

“Yeah.” You mumbled, toying with your skirt. “Did… did you stay?”

“I was worried about you.” He looked into your eyes, and you wanted to look away, but you didn’t. “And I needed to talk to you.”

“What about Brenda?”

“I took her home. Came back.”

“Look,” You started, finding the strength to avert your gaze. “I don’t… I don’t want anyone else feeling bad for me. It was Robin’s idea, and of course you don’t feel that way about me, it was really stupid of me to assume—��

“Stop.” He blurted, somewhat forcefully. You blinked at him. “Please, just stop. I fucked up tonight, really bad. When I got the invite, I thought you’d have someone with you. It just… I’m an idiot. If I wasn’t an idiot, I would’ve never brought Brenda.”

Your stomach flipped familiarly, like it did when you heard a knock at the door earlier. “She was  beautiful, though.”

“She isn’t you.” His hand landed on your thigh, and his eyes darted to it for a moment, as if he hadn’t meant to. You both lingered there.

When he realized you weren’t going to push it away, he continued. “If—if when you went out with Eddie… I mean, if I blew my chance, I understand.”

Blew his chance. You wondered if he could ever truly do that.

“Steve, Eddie was just cheering me up.” You couldn’t help but smile a little, putting your hand over his. “He’s not my Valentine, if that’s what you’re asking. He does kind of want you dead, though.”

“They all want me dead, trust me.” He blew air out of his lips, eyebrows raising.

“What do you mean?”

“After you left, Brenda went to the bathroom, and I got a thorough bitching out.” 

You bit your lip, trying to hide the happiness that brought you. “You kind of deserved it, though.”

“Oh, absolutely.” He affirmed. There were a few moments of stillness, your touching hands drawing both of your attention. 

“Is Brenda your Valentine?” You wondered, voice softer. 

“Didn’t ask her to be.” He looked up at you, voice matching your tone. “Are you still… looking for one?”

Your eyes were locked, melting under each other's gaze. You could almost feel his breath.  His free hand came up to cradle your face, thumbing across your stained cheek. 

“There’s really only one I wanted.”

“Same here.” He whispered.

You quickly leaned forward, disturbing the stillness of the moment, and slotted your lips with his. He tasted like beer and strawberry chapstick, and smelled like a warm summer day—one that broke through the chill you’d been feeling all evening. Butterflies erupted inside you, fluttering in your stomach, your heart, your veins.

Your hands came up to clutch at his chest, the fabric of his sweater crinkling beneath your fingers. The kiss, which had started fervent, softened; the two of you broke apart, and he stole a peck at the corner of your mouth, foreheads resting against each other.

You both took heavy breaths, caused more by emotion than physical exertion, chests rising and falling in unison.

“I gotta make it up to you.” He breathed. You shook your head ever so slightly, a grin playing across your lips. 

“Steve, you already—”

“I’ll be your Valentine every day, for as long as you let me.”

You thought it might’ve been the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you. Your forehead creased, trying not to let your eyes water, this time for a much better reason. As close as your faces were, you knew he noticed anyway.

“Deal?” His eyes searched your own, voice small, as if he was afraid you might say no.

You couldn’t stop a happy huff from leaving your lips, a single tear fighting its way out of the corner of your eye. “Deal.”

He beamed, pressing his lips into yours, as if he’d been awaiting the opportunity to do it again.

Steve Harrington became yours on Valentine’s Day, 1986. A Friday. A day you’d almost always ignored, until you didn’t. A day you were almost certain was going to be the worst day of your life, until it wasn’t. In fact, it might’ve been the best. 

Because Steve would continue to be yours each Friday after that—and every day in between, too.

[killersfool]

fluff w bobby! idk smth like hurt/comfort. maybe she’s had a bad date and goes to bobby and they like confess , idrk but i think that’d be cute

Comfort | ROBERT KEATING

thank you for the request !!

PAIRING: robert keating x f!reader

WORDS: 3.4k

SUMMARY: reader goes on a terrible date. she calls her old work friend, rob, who comforts her and opens up about some hidden feelings.

GENRE: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, fluff

WARNINGS: references to eating disorder

The worst date of my life occured on a Tuesday afternoon, starting at exactly 8.43pm. For starters, the guy was late, 13 minutes late on the dot. Never trust your Tinder matches. I guess I should've figured out what a mess the whole thing would be. I'd sat down at a window seat in Nando's. Sun glowed gently across the table. It gave me a positive outlook on the whole thing. But by the end of the evening, as I left that dreaded restaurant with a soggy bag of chips in my right hand, I was holding back tears. Rain was pouring. My umbrella had broken. Dark clouds had appeared in the sky. Pathetic fallacy. I could hardly even breathe as I sat down in the train. 

My first port of call — for some odd reason — was my old work friend. Rob and I had worked together in a restaurant just down my street. We'd been through hell together. My worst memory was when I dropped about ten glasses across the kitchen floor, accidentally smashing them to pieces. The manager heard the crash ring out through the entire restaurant. He ran through the kitchen doors. They swung open as if he was a wild beast prepared to eat me whole. Bones and all. This was the first time I'd made a major mistake as a kitchen porter. I was trying to prepare myself for the incessant shouting to soon ensue. But before I could even build a wall around me, a hand grabbed mine and pulled me out of the kitchen. I wasn't sure who it was grabbing my pinky finger or why they were helping me escape but I didn't complain, I just let them lead me through the main restaurant where guests were staring at us with patient eyes. They really believed we were running around just to ask for their order.

The long mane of curly hair made me realise who was dragging me alone. Robert Keating. The waiter who's sarcasm was off the charts. Each time he came into the kitchen, he'd be going on a rant about how stupid the job was and how much he hated the manager. Most of the chefs agreed. But they'd make sure to put on cheery faces whenever Mr Jacob came in to check everything was alright. Robert had worn Doc Martens to the beach when they had a dinner party to celebrate 10 years of the restaurant. I had made sure to come along with my best dress on and trainers. Robert had appeared with some Doc Marten boots, red shorts and Joy Division shirt, assuring everyone that his boots were 'made for walking on sandy terrain'. Then he complained about them for the entire time. He didn't make any sense.

Once we'd escaped through the front door of 'Jacob's Pizza', we continued running down the street until we got to the park. I knew by that moment I'd sure be fired. No one was running after us. No one really gave two shits about us. We weren't a necessity to the work force. We were just there. Looming.

Rob had sat down on one of the kid's swings (the tiny ones that you can't get into once you grow out of them). He allowed his infinitely long legs to dangle off the edge—not putting them through the holes because he'd surely get stuck which would've been a very Rob thing to do. The park was empty. It was a Tuesday evening. Stars lined the sky. Rob patted the swing next to him, asking me through his motions to join him. I complied. Awkwardly slotted myself in a mildly comfortable position onto the swing. I grabbed onto the rusty chains which had been there for dozens of years. Paint ripped away by years of use, years of bad weather.

"Mr Jacob didn't deserve us. We were too good for him." Sixteen-year-old Rob always thought quite highly of himself—not to the point of being a show off—but just enough to make you shake your head. The use of the collective pronoun was different for him. A change to usual. He was including me in his declaration of greatness. His blue eyes were shining and he'd thrown his apron to the ground. Black button-up shirt and black trousers. His smile was a lighthouse, illuminating that stretch of grass before us.

"I fucked up. Sorry, Rob." I'd looked away from him. Wrung my fingers together, picked at my nails. We'd been working there for months. Of course I had to be the one to make a mistake.

"Hey, don't worry. There's loads of jobs around here. I'm sure you'll find somewhere else," he assured. He reached out a hand between the two swings, let it linger on my shoulder. I followed suit with him. Chucked my apron into the nearest bin. One of those bins that never get emptied. Overflowing with fizzy drinks and sweet packets.

I allowed my head to drop down onto his hand. His fingers took a short hike through my hair. 

He then started to laugh. "How the fuck did you drop all those glasses? I swear you purposely tipped the tray over."

"What if I did?" I smirked. It had been accident. Or maybe my irritation at the place just wanted to come out. 

Rob was pressing his shoes to the ground, trying to make the swing fly upwards. He'd smiled to himself at my words. "Then I thank you for your service. I'd been trying to get out of there for a while. My band are getting way more gigs and the job was getting in the way of everything."

"Your band? You've never told me about that." I was intrigued. I had no idea he played an instrument. I knew that he loved The Strokes as he'd always put them on the kitchen playlist. I couldn't imagine him on a stage. Performing. Making music. It was the last thing I'd expected he'd do.

"Yeah. We've called it Inhaler. An ode to Eli's asthma—"

"Hewson? He's in it? Fuck no." I'd never been the biggest fan of Elijah. He'd dated my friend and left her heartbroken. I'd never personally spoken to guy but from a distance, I was the slightest bit terrified of him. 

"I had no choice! He forced me into it."

"So he's singing, right? Then you're playing what?"

"Bass."

"Really? That's..."

"So sexy. I know."

That's when I shook my head, smiling. His face was serious but as my teeth appeared, so did his. We were both laughing at nothing, giddy because of the air cooling our cheeks. Just his presence, him being next to me, made me feel so much warmer.

Now my eyes are teary, my throat is raw. I'm sat in the corner of a train compartment. Toddlers are screaming at their parents, music is blasting in my ears and the fields turn to blurs of green as I lean back into my seat. 

The guy was a prick. A self-centered waste of time who thought the whole world revolved around him and only him. I was asking all the questions. He didn't want to know anything about me. His mouth would never stop moving. I hardly got a single word into any conversation. He showed off about his job, his money, the university he went to and he joked about how much I ate. He'd stared at my stomach when I stood up, as if he was trying to measure my waist with his eyes. That's when I just walked out of the place, taking my remaining chips with me. I don't know why I even agreed to go. He wasn't even nice on the app.

Phone ringing. Hand over my stomach. I had gained weight. I'd started eating more than I had months ago. Food was a comfort, food was a memory-store, food was something to keep me going. There were all kinds of flavours that would bring me back to figments of my past. Eating was a way to reminisce and a way to make new memories. It had irked me—that look in his eye, the raise of a brow. I was skinnier on my Tinder profile. But back then I wasn't happy. Constantly focused on my calorie intake, on how much exercise I had done in a week. 

"Hello?" Rob picks up. His words play through my headphones. His voice hasn't changed since I last saw him. It's still low and raspy.

I sniffle, finding it hard to even get my words out. I can see in the train window that my skin is blotchy and red. My bottom lip is quivering. I'm trying to hold everything in. I'm like a bomb on the verge of explosion. I don't like crying. I especially don't like crying on a train where eyes are glancing over in my direction.

"You alright?" He whispers. It's 10pm and I'm wondering what he's been doing. Has he been at a show? I've been trying to keep a track of where they've been going on their tour. Right now he could be absolutely anywhere. The last I heard he was in Scotland.

"What are you up to?" I try to divert the conversation to him. I just want to hear him talk. Anything he tells me, I'll listen.

"I'm back home in Dublin. Eating mince pies. I know it's early but my Ma is too obsessed with Christmas for her own good. It's what, 2nd of November? And she's already got her tree up. Tinsel and everything. What's up with you? You sound different. Has Eli been giving you shit again? That gobshite needs his head knocked in."

He's in Dublin. I'm in Dublin. 

"I miss your Ma." I remember the one time we walked home from work together. His Ma had given me a lung constricting hug. She'd thought I was Rob's girlfriend. Told me that he non-stop talked about me. I didn't believe her. I still don't believe her. I could never see Rob having a crush on anyone, let alone me. "It's nothing to do with Eli. Although I agree, he is a little bitch. It's actually this shitty bloke I met on Tinder. He thought he was all that. Most boring guy I've met in my life."

"Instagram, please?"

"I don't trust you with anyone's Instagram."

"At least tell me his name. I want to make fun of him."

"Albert."

"What a name. Honestly, I'm thinking about getting my name legally changed to that. Albert. Wow. I'm impressed." 

"He told me his nickname was 'Alby'. I almost laughed." I smile to myself, wiping tears away. I hear Rob snort through the phone. 

"Found his Instagram. That was easy. He looks weird. Shit hairline."

"Rob!!! Keep away from his DM's please."

He went silent. He was most definitely already sending him stupid messages. I didn't really mind. The guys deserved shit after what he put me through. Two hours of nonsense. At least the food was good. Nando's is my favourite.

"Aren't you in Dublin? Do you want to come play some bird bingo? It's been a while since I saw you. We've got at least a years supply of mince pies."

I'm cheesing. Sucking in quick breaths as my tears stop falling. The train comes to a halt in the station. My head is leaning against the window, my mouth opens wide as I see a figure sat down on a bench. That familiar mop of hair, those shining eyes, an entire bass guitar case sat beside him. I'm gobsmacked.

The call ends before I can try to speak. Before long, my legs are moving and I'm shuffling through crowds, trying to find the exit. Maybe I was just imagining him. Maybe I just wanted him to be there. But then I'm outside the train, walking down the platform and two arms wrap around my stomach. 

"Hey," is all he says, straight into my ear.

He isn't usually this touchy. We used to go for coffee and he'd never hug me. We weren't that kind of friends. Now his arms are holding me flush against his chest and his hair is tickling my ear and I just want to close my eyes and blow the world away.

I turn around to face him. His hands are still on my waist, scrunching the material of my jumper. He has a cardigan on, his eyelashes are so long, he's watching me with worry etched upon his features. 

Then I break down. I can't deal with it anymore. I can't hold it in.

"Sweetheart..." He pulls me straight into his chest, hands cupping my head like it's going to split into two. I sob into his cardigan. My palms are against his shoulderblades and his head is on my shoulder. I can feel his nose smush into my skin and he mumbles quiet comforts into the air. "He doesn't deserve you. He's an idiot. Piece of shit." Words of comfort are usually just insults from Rob—but they still make me feel way better.

I don't know what I would've done without him. I keep imagining myself going home and crying into my pillow, no one there to tell me it'll be okay. I'm so glad he's here. I'm so glad he's holding me.

"Let's go home?" He pulls me away the slightest bit just to see my face. His thumb jumps just beneath my eye, wiping away the falling tears. He then gently kisses my nose. I'm shocked and confused. The warmth of his lips against my freezing nose is a welcome relief. I'm sure a sigh escaped my lips at the gesture. 

I'm not sure which home he means. His or mine. But wherever we're going, I'll follow him. I want to be somewhere warm. I want to eat some nice, warm food and forget that guy ever even existed. Rob still has an arm around me as we walk through the station. He gives me a packet of tissues and buys me a hot chocolate from Starbucks. Even whilst carrying his entire bass along on his other shoulder, he makes sure to keep an arm around my back, fingers curled over my waist. 

"How come you've got your bass?" I taste the hot chocolate. It burns my tongue. My spare hand points along the rather massive case which is definitely heavy.

"I was practicing with the band. I was about to head home when you called me so I ran to the station instead."

"So you lied about the mince pies?"

"Oh no. That is very true. You'll see when we get back. I just lied about where I was—you know, for the surprise element."

His then. We are going to his. I've never been inside his house before. I've only walked down his street and glanced through the windows. He'd always have the best Halloween decorations. The Keating house was always a go to in order to get the best sweets. His mum would come out dressed in the most flamboyant costume possible. Rob would always be standing beside her, forced forwards with a bag of sweets in his hands. 

Up past his parents' cars. Still some Halloween stickers on the windowsill and pumpkins next to the welcome mat. He twists his key in the door. It clicks and opens up to a corridor. He was right about the Christmas decorations. Snow globes on a bookshelf,  wreath on the door, Christmas tree lights are colourful through the window. The whole living room is dark green.

The house is silent. The dishwasher is wildly spinning and wind is wailing. Other than that it is extremely quiet. And warm. So very warm. I can actually feel my fingers now. 

Rob takes my hand once I've pulled off my shoes. He pulls me along into the living room, we crash down onto the sofa.

"Tell me everything," he says. He stretches out his legs and places his feet on the coffee table. He has fluffy socks that have the face of a red robin. "All the nitty gritty. Get it all out of your system."

"I don't even know where to start." I pull at the skin of my cheek, look up at the ceiling. "We went to Nando's. It was my idea. I got there bang on time but had to wait for ages for him to get there. He was late—"

"First red flag."

"Right? I should've just left. Anyway, he came in. Blamed his lateness on traffic when he literally lived in the town I went to. Like wouldn't you just walk? He ordered hardly any food then got all weird when I ordered my usual. I had a pudding too. He was just so judgy. He told me about his degree in Maths and how he was doing a phD. He didn't seem to impressed about my Law degree. He barely even let me talk. Then the last thing, the cherry on top, was when he stared at my belly when I stood up as if I had some kind of disease. I felt ill. I've never been so insecure in my life."

Rob's mouth was open wide, jaw dropped. He kept his eyes on mine. Listening. It was so nice to have someone just hear what I was saying for once. 

"You're the prettiest, most intelligent girl— I'm going to have a right word with that nob— I'm going to have a right fucking word with him. He thinks he can just..." His burst of emotions makes him stand up and pace around the room. I smile at his compliments but frown when he starts to get angry.

"It's fine. I'm here now. I don't have to think about him again."

Rob sits down again. Then his head falls onto my stomach. He closes his eyes. His arm reaches over for the coffee table. He grabs two mince pies. One for me, one for him. Bending his arm and extending it, he passes one up to me. I gratefully take it. I peel off the metal then take a bite. It’s delicious. Rob is smiling up at me. There’s a little pastry on his chin. I wipe it away with my thumb. My finger seems to have a mind of its own. It starts to trace lines along his face. Beauty spot to beauty spot. Like his skin is paper and I’m doing a join the dot. My thumb lands back on his lips and I trace along the two pink shapes. A little chapped, warm and soft. He opens his eyes again. 

Then I’m hit by this weird feeling. Like I’m reaching a high. Or I’m slamming the accelerator. Or I’m at a claw machine and finally win a prize. That hum of euphoria, singing through your ears. He’s twisting his head on my belly like it’s a pillow. My thumb is still at the corner of his mouth. My heart is beating in my ears. There’s something clicking. A realisation.

I’m in love with Rob. I’ve always been in love with him.

“Look, I know this is a really bad time to say this,” Rob speaks. His words a gruff. I listen intently. 

“What’s up?” I brush his hair out of his face. Curls between my fingers.  

“You’ll think I’m stupid.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

Rob closes his eyes again. He breathes out. He looks for my other hand and places it on his chest, his hand resting just above it. I can feel his heart pounding like crazy. I never knew a human heart could move so quickly. I never knew that here, in this dimly lit room, after my heart has been torn into two separate pieces I’d be feeling Rob’s heart under my fingertips.

“Geez, Rob. Am I that scary?” I stroke his hair again, his fingers now grazing my knuckles.

“Yeah, terrifying.” 

“Just tell me. What is it?”

“I love you.”

The whole room falls apart. My whole body feels like it’s been ripped into two then sewn back together. His eyes close again but he peeks a little with his left one just to gauge my reaction. I’ve stopped moving. My brain isn’t working. 

“Christ. Really?” I whisper.

“Yes. I think of you every time I buy pizza, every time it’s Halloween, every time I’m drinking from a glass. Everywhere I go, you’re there. Whenever we went for coffee, I’d feel empty when you left. It just—even when you told me about this date. I was jealous at first. I want to take you on dates and fall in love with you even more.”

He sits up. He grabs onto both of my cheeks.

“I love you too,” I say before pulling him into a kiss.

[readingwiththestars]

₊˚⊹♡ IF ONLY I HAD TOLD HER

["whatever our souls are made of hers and mine are the same"]

| ✮ 3.5 stars |

THOUGHTS ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . [spoilers for ihhbwm + some spoliers for ioihth]

ok so lemme tell you i had the BIGGEST reading slump ever just as i started to read this. so this review may be a little choppy at some points because i've just pointblank forgotten some parts and don't wanna go back and re-read finny's pov just yet.

i was so on the fence about reading this because on one hand i really wanted to read finny's pov and on the other, complete and utter heartbreak.... yeah....... so anyway i read it.

when i tell you that this book had me ugly crying in the middle of the night. like seriously finny's pov?? fucking broke me. are you kidding me? the way he speaks about autumn? ugh when am i gonna find a guy like finny fr? but seriously this book had me on a rollercoaster of emotions just from the heartbreak knowing whats already gonna happen to finny as he describes how happy he is and how he can't believe autumn loves him back, to the smile i had on my face reading about 'the moms' bickering over baby stuff for autumn.

i will say this now i did expect a little more (hence the rating). i wanted idk more closure at the end there. idk rlly know how to describe it better since its 10 o'clock at night and ive had zero sleep for the past four nights in a row. but yeah i wanted something more. (bitch u wanted finny to be alive)

CHARACTERS ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

finny -

*sobbing noises* i could go on a damn rant abt this boy. holy shit. he's just perfect. if i see one person ONE PERSON coming after him istg- he was such a caring sweet person like the pencil??? and always going to the sketchy gas station (i nearly called it a servo then lmao) to get the candy autumn likes?? and always making sure people were safe when he drives?? *cough* apparently not you though sylvie *cough* just ahhh laura when i get you. cause like why'd you have to make him get out of the car, hmmm? lets just compromise and you give me an alternate universe where finny misses the puddle or better yet where sylvie kept her damn seatbelt on.

jack -

tbh i wasn't all that excited to read about jack. (also to be fair i was still sobbing from finny's pov so that probably didn't help) like i seriously just thought it'd be some jock trying to process finny's death by hooking up with alexis (who by the way can go jump up her own ass and die) but we got the whole other side of him where he was genuinely affected by finny's death and really was his best friend. but the way he didn't like autumn way just- yeah. also i saw him and sylvie coming from a mile away like seriously it wasn't very subtle.

autumn -

*sobbing noises increase* autumn my baby girl. i just wanted to jump through the pages and give her a hug. seriously i feel robbed that we didn't get to see a happy autumn. angie and her's friend ship was so precious tho. and i love love LOVE that they bonded over being moms/soon-to-be-moms. im also just gonna say the way we didn't see an ounce of jamie or sasha this entire book made me so happy! i also lowkey wanted to see more of when she was an actual mom? like what would she name the baby? i wanted to see domestic autumn a little more. but i still love her so much and it was so lovely to see her heal <3

QUOTES ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . [spoilers]

"my love for her is the closest thing i have to religion. but it's okay that she doesn't feel the same. i'm fine. i can handle it" - finny

"my devotion to autumn is engraved on my very being. i am in awe of her. i will sit in the stands and cheer her on in life as her most ardent admirer. i know i'll always love her in the same way i know i'll always need oxygen" - finny

"it's all done. finn's story is over. his whole life. that was it. not even nineteen years, and he'll never, ever do anything else ever again. finn won't go off to college or celebrate his birthday. he won't get another hair cut or get the oiled changed in his car. he won't bite a hangnail on his thumb or buy another CD. finn smith has done everything he will ever do. he won't get to be with autumn." - jack

“this baby isn't what's left over from our love story. this baby is our story's continuation.” - autumn

"if only i'd told her that i loved her years ago, i wouldn't be here now." - finny

all in all laura you can pay for my therapy mkay?

[pfffsfic]

Post-Fall Falls False Starts- Chapter 15: The Possibilities

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

"Our sleep schedule is kinda messed up, if you think about it. You've been conking out constantly. But one time I spent 5 hours working on a rarepair doujin for this event thing, even though it was a school night, so is it really that messed up? Ehehe!"

Rob was unconscious and unresponsive. His chest rose and fell gently; he was alive, and that made him a good enough conversation partner for Sarah.

"No way am I getting the money by tonight! When he comes back, I'm gonna try to cut him a deal. And then I'm gonna try and get us a job! I have this whole plan, but I don't know if you can hear me, so I won't waste my breath. Aaah! I'm so excited!"

She squished her cheeks.

"I can't wait for you to tell me more about the whole time loop thing when you wake up, because if it's real, I am gonna milk it, you have no idea. I have so many things I want to try! Like- let me tell you about all my plans. And- and- I also have plans for if the time loop thing isn't real, because of course I do, you know? I'm the obsessive one! Not to toot my own horn."

-

"…and none of it makes ANY sense! Does any of it make any sense to any of you? Not a rhetorical question, guys, I want to see hands up. Raise your hands if this makes any sense to you, and those of you with no hands, raise… something, whatever, just raise something. Nobody? That's what I thought. And that's what drives me so mad about it! Beliiiiieve me, I like nonsensical stuff as much as the next guy, but ∆⎔▰▰⊜!"

A few vacant stares were directed at Bill- and the majority of them were coming from Amorphous Shape's many eyes. Many more vacant stares were directed elsewhere.

"Not to question you, man, but you said a few hours ago that you'd never bring them up again after you finished talking," offered Kryptos.

"Hey, smart guy, did it ever occur to you that I'm NOT DONE TALKING?"

There was no verbal response. In fact, the room was silent, and nothing was ever silent around here. The next noise anyone heard was Bill resuming his rant.

"The $% ! audacity of them! I know what you're thinking- how am I letting them get to me? And the answer is, I am not! They aren't getting to me, okay? So don't say they are! I know nobody said anything, but you were all thinking it, and I can say that even without reading your minds. They aren't getting to me, which is exactly why I have to make that perfectly clear. So let me go over the situation again from the top…"

-

"Order of business one: I want to see if we can get jobs at the Mystery Shack. As exhibits, I mean. But wait, you ask!"

Rob didn't ask anything, mostly because he was asleep.

"Doesn't us being bona-fide supernatural creatures make that impossible since, according to the show, people here only like fake stuff? Well, it does, until you remember that hiring us would also be child labor, so it cancels out and makes it likely to work. Basic narrative math. And if that fails I can superglue a zipper onto your back so you look like a guy in a suit."

She prepared for a rebuttal along the lines of, 'why not superglue a zipper onto your own back if you want to do this so bad?' but none came. Silly me, she thought.

"…And if that fails we can find jobs on Craigslist."

-

The twenty-cutout threshold had been reduced to 10 after a week, then 5, and then two- and it had just been, in a moment of hopelessness and frustration, reduced to one. Gumball had failed a dozen times in a row to get that one successful hit.

"I'm lowering it to zero," deadpanned Nicole.

"No! No, I can do this."

"Sweetie, if you've made one thing clear, it's that you can't do this."

"Shut up and let me make you proud of meee!"

With sloppy form, he took down one of the cutouts, which had already faced a hundred different beatings at the hands of the other members of the family. Tensions were at an all-time high, and the family owed that partially to the fact that, at lunchtime in a few hours, they would be forced to share the final remaining can of baked beans in the pantry. It was expired (and has been since 2003), mostly because none of them liked baked beans very much, but the only other food in the house was a fruitcake so stale that a fork had turned to dust against it days earlier.

"Cardboard cutouts are really nothing like the real thing, anyways. If we want to survive out there we have to get some practical practice! Isn't that right, everyone?"

There was mass nodding.

"Then it's settled! 4 to 1! We're going to the surface. Get your bats- things are about to get messy."

For the first time since the void swept in and claimed their surroundings, the Wattersons' basement door slowly creaked open.

-

"Do you think you would have a shot with anybody here, Rob? I mean romantically. If you think about it, this whole thing is like a self-insert story, only instead of stand-in characters who are like the us we wish we could be, it's just us! Isn't this crazy? I mean, if you really think about it?"

She gently lifted his chin and opened and closed his jaw, and thankfully he was too far gone to wake up and protest. "Why dontcha try 'n romance one of the locals if yer so passionate about it, huh?" she spoke as him, adding an accent by accident that he didn't have.

"Oh, you know I have a reservation back home," she said as herself. "Besides! I've been expanding my horizons. Why include myself in all my ships when other people have so much chemistry with each other? Like- imagine this. Are you imagining it? I know you are."

Rob was in a dreamless sleep.

"If you cleaned up a bit you could have a chance with Mabel I think. But that's kind of easy pickings, right? And besides, your personalities, I dunno. I think it'd have to be a slow burn, which is not her style. You know, I thought what might be fun is you and Dipper. Hear me out, okay? He's into the supernatural. But not like that, you say? Well, that's where we sort of have to stretch our interpretation. You two are the same age, you're cool and confident… uh, sometimes, and you're also totally freaky looking, no offense. He'd be all over the chance to study you… maybe. We'd have to set things up, but I think I could totally do that. I'm an expert matchmaker, by which I mean I make imaginary matches between my friends and acquaintances! How much harder could it be to do in real life? Or, I guess this isn't really real life, huh? All the better."

-

The artist's rendition of the suspect on the wanted poster looked as if it had been drawn in crayon by a 7-year-old. Dipper turned it around, held it at arm's length, pored over it for a few long moments, and then set it down and put one tense hand on his forehead. And then picked it up and started the whole process over again.

"Find any new details, Dip-dop? You've been looking at that thing for like an hour."

He made a small noise of surprise and set down the poster on the table.

"Take a look at this." He pointed to the face of the drawing. "They forgot to add one of his eyes. That's gotta mean something, right?"

"Maaaybe he only has one eye. And he's coming for yours! Rob, the master eye thief!"

"Don't joke about that! What if you jinx it into being the truth?"

"We can just give him one of those eyeball jawbreakers in the jar on the counter, and everybody will be happy."

"Jawbreakers? I always figured those were real eyeballs."

"Well, even better!"

He folded up the paper as if to put it away, then, as if driven by instinct, opened it up again and continued to look it over.

"Do you think he became a robber because his name is Rob, or that he goes by Rob because he's a robber?" Dipper asked, looking down at the perp's name as if to somehow glean new information from it.

"Do you think Robbie is gonna get angry about his position as the town's most important Robert-adjacent dude being stolen? Heh, stolen."

"…What do you think about going on a manhunt? Or a cyclopshunt?"

"You're kind of getting ahead of yourself with this whole cyclops idea. On the other hand, I am on the hunt for a man!"

"That's, uh, not what a manhunt is."

"With love we make our own definitions, brobro."

-

"If we wanted to really mess things up we could leave the DVD where the twins could find it. If you found out your whole life was a TV show created by people in a whole 'nother universe, that would be pretty messed up, huh? I don't even want to think about it."

Sarah shivered and her whole body momentarily wobbled like jelly. Rob, who had been through that exact experience, was not available for comment.

"We could just erase everybody's memories afterwards, easy peasy. And if the memories came back, they'd just basically feel like two of the same memory, probably, so there wouldn't be too many alarm bells. That or they'd have lifelong psychological trauma. Maybe this is actually not such a good idea, especially if there's no time loop! Wouldn't it be messed up if there was a time loop but then we started noticing the things we did in one loop having effects in the next?"

She puppeteered his mouth and said, "Oh, definitely, that would be so messed up."

"You feeling alright, mate? You've been looking a little overworked lately."

"Aw, no! It's just hot in here. Don't tell me you aren't feeling that."

"Are you lads feeling that?" Several shaken heads (or bodies, or celestial bodies) resulted. "I think it's just you."

"Maybe I'm coming down with something."

"You should get that checked out."

"By who?"

"Good point."

"Mars, care to get a little closer and take a look at this spot in North America that itches?"

"Love to, but I'm currently away. Orbits and all that."

"Quite alright. I'll see you when you come back around."

"Sure hope I don't catch whatever you have, Earth!"

-

"You know what could be cool? If we became, like, universe hoppers. We experienced the apocalypse back home and we're probably gonna experience it here. So, I was thinking, we could convince the van guy- do you know his name? I feel kinda awkward just calling him the van guy."

Rob didn't know his name, not that he could have told her either way.

"Whatever. We could convince him to take us around and maybe we could visit some more apocalypses. Be folk heroes or something! Wouldn't that be cool? It would have to be after we've gotten our 40 dollars' worth out of this place, though."

It may have been worth 40 dollars in fares for the both of them, but in reality all they had collectively paid for their rides was 20 dollars.

"We could commandeer his vehicle. It'd be two versus one. And I have been known to be pretty convincing," she said, pummeling one palm with the other fist.

-

Something stirred inside Wrecker's cage and his eye gently fluttered open. Normally, the darkness of the blanket was enough to put him indefinitely to sleep in this little corner of Rob's subconscious, but someone was speaking unintelligibly from on high- that, and the ground was shaking. He made his way out through the hole Bill had bent some time before and meekly opened the door out of the office onto an entirely unfamiliar scene.

Every one of the memory islands beyond the school was in the process of crumbling. Even the TV static backdrop was losing its scintillation in favor of a painfully static- that is to say, still- pattern of gray and white squares, like a transparency layer. His heart jumped into his throat and before long he found himself dashing back into the office and unveiling his three companions.

"You guys," he said in an uncharacteristically fearful tone, "you've got to see this."

"See what? Is it something good?" asked Memory-Rob #1.

"No! It's something very bad!"

Wrecker tried to no avail to bend the bars of the other cages. Just then, a brilliant, half-familiar seam of light split the floor into a crevasse right where he stood, and he only narrowly jumped out of the way as a chunk of the ceiling sizzled into nothingness above him. Memory-Robs #1 and #2 were frightened, pushing at the bars. Superintendent-Rob was looking up with a look of anger and resignation.

"Does anyone here know what's happening?" Wrecker asked, and the others shook their heads.

The ground beneath the cage cracked and splintered.

Debris fell down, down, and then blinked out of existence as it hit some invisible floor.

Memory-Rob #2 made the mistake of standing in the corner of his cage… and then the whole thing plummeted. There was a chilling scream that came to an even more chilling abrupt end.

"Go," said Superintendent-Rob. "See what you can do. No use in staying here and dooming yourself."

Judging by his face, Memory-Rob #1 wanted to protest, but he said nothing, and so Wrecker turned and ran away from the checkered tide just as the school fell into nothingness. The dreamscape was malleable enough for him to leap successfully to the next island, and then the next one, eventually settling on the edge of a nature island where a rusty 'NO BILL ALLOWED' sign guarded a dark forest. This place was stable! All of the other islands had been quaking. He sighed in relief- and then he looked up and saw himself, or rather another Memory-Rob. He wasn't aware that any more existed. No, wait, this wasn't necessarily a memory- could this be his main consciousness?

"What's going on?" asked Wrecker again.

"What do you mean, what's going on?"

"Your memories are crumbling!" Wrecker gestured angrily to the dreamscape in disarray around them.

"It's a good thing I'm safe here, then," said present-Rob(?) with a little smile on his face, one that Wrecker wanted to wipe off. "Who are you?"

"Who- you're asking who I am?"

"Sure I am, dude, I just asked you that."

Wrecker tried to answer, but found that he couldn't. It was both of their minds crumbling.

"I don't know," said Wrecker, "but that's bad."

"Bad?"

For just a second, present-Rob's face flashed with concern, but it faded.

"Yes! Can't you see that something is clearly wrong here?"

"I don't see anything wrong."

Wrecker tried to hold on, he really did. But- even though this island should have been safe- his voice was abruptly cut off as his consciousness, just one part of a larger consciousness, was taken by the encroaching nothingness, leaving a lone Rob staring and wondering who exactly he was just speaking to.

Convinced that this was all just a surreal dream, Present-Rob turned on his heel and walked back into the forest with a content smile. REM sleep was coming to an end, and truth be told this whole thing had made him rather well-rested. The feeling that he was forgetting something occurred to him for a split second and then it was gone.

[brightlotusmoon]

Hey there, big fan of you and your fanfiction and I just need to get this out and “vent” about this to someone, and I feel like you may be the only one to understand and validate this opinion lol.

In the tmnt 2003 series it just ANNOYS ME so much on an unreal level how Mikey gets treated by the show writers. One that really annoys me is just SAINW and the good genes arc. Good genes for obvious reasons, we were robbed basically of that whole thing by them changing Donnie to be mutated instead of Mikey, but I never saw anyone mention SAINW’s potential before.

I CONSTANTLY see the statement “Mikey adds nothing to the team” and its just because THEY NEVER SHOW IT!! THATS WHY!! His role is supposed to be the heart and the glue that keeps the team together. The one that brings light in their dark ass lives. They had the perfect opportunity to do this in either good genes or SAINW and they blew it. Everyone knows Donnie has a role to play, so why not let Mikey be teleported to that future instead and have him be the one out of time. It just makes so much more sense to have that, to actually SHOW people the role he plays in the team and family. He could still even be a badass in that episode if they wanted, but just let him and his audience have that moment of realization in his importance. It could have worked for Good Genes too!! I just dont get why they barely let Mikey do shit or have any angst moments when others get plenty of it. And yea I know Laird was in control of the whole thing and Don was his favorite so that obviously means angst nepotism but still. Its just frustrating to see how people wont look at the bigger picture to see how important he really is. Its just UGRHHHH!!! Its even worse that 2003 is most peoples goto for the franchise whenever 2003 themselves rarely did Mikey any justice!! Its like I have to resort to fanfiction instead of canon because they actually just GET IT more than the writers do. Like I feel like Im going insane on this topic to the point Im ranting to my therapist about it because of my ocd compulsions and reassurance seeking includes this shit.

Im really hoping mutant mayhem will be different since Seth Rogen’s favorite is Mikey, so hopefully he will actually do him justice; with his works being Invincible and The Boys, im having high hopes for the writing capabilities of him. Here is to hoping if that it is the case then MM becomes the status quo.

Sorry for the rant, this has been on my mind for fucking ages and I feel you might be the only other one that I can say this to lol.

Awww, you remind me a little of me back in 2016 when I started this Tumblr as a literal storage place for ideas on exploring Mikey's psychology.

We DO have to resort to fanfiction! It's actually been that way since the late 90s. Uh. I helped start it. Got diagnosed with ADHD, looked at 2003 Mikey, went "guys hear me out" later got diagnosed autistic with the help of the people who coined neurodivergence, looked at 2003 Mikey and his brothers again, went "Sure, it's all of them!" and sat on it for years before writing it here.

In that time, there cropped up some writers who just really preferred to play with his silly side more than the rest of him, especially after 2012. I think we're going to cycle around to more 03 fanfiction pointing out Mikey's unspoken skills beyond mouthy, crafty, irritating, or weird.

That reminds me, I have a chapter to write from Leo's viewpoint on that.

[xarrixii]

Chapter_51 : "The Visible Part"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

CW: referenced abuse archive masterlist | masterlist

TL;DR: While Alph is getting patched up in a van driving back to a Storm base, the same TV broadcast as in last chapter plays. Alph then calls their dad to ask him to dispose of the gun at the wreckage of Cinder's latest destroyed tower. The chapter ends with Alph's own injuries reminding them of a time they showed up at Harlow's front door.

━━━━━━━━━━━━ ▼

Alph grimaces as the medic touches a washcloth to their face, patting away the grime. Or whatever was on their face.

“What did you mean by third instance?”

“Well, I’m sure we all remember the building that was slashed straight through before being set alight in the rain. And then there was the one we’re responding to at the moment. But before both of these events, a bank named Hayton Deposits was robbed roughly nine months ago. The robbers escaped in an armored truck, and at least two pyrokinetics were involved in the robbery.”

“Do you have a description of your primary suspect? The one that saved you this afternoon?”

“The only time I caught sight of their face, it was half-covered. But I can say a few vague details. They appeared blonde, fair in complexion. That’s about it.”

Alph had a few words for the Chief of Police in Longport. And by a few, they meant something more along the lines of ranting about saying vague statements about pyrokinetic terrorism and the implications that has on all pyrokinetics. Some more to say about giving the public an excuse to go on a wild goose chase for pyrokinetic blondes through the radio.

“Send someone back there,” Alph says with hope Nacht is still sitting across from them in the van.

“Why?” Nacht was downloading the files they’d collected onto the hard drives into his laptop to find where Raijin was being kept. At least, that’s what Alph’s uncle said they were doing a bit earlier. Alph didn’t hear much besides the van driving down a busy highway.

“To find and destroy the gun.” Alph mentioned a previous statement from the interview a little more than a minute or so earlier.

Nacht hummed disapprovingly.

“It was Urban, I know it. It’s bad for us too if law enforcement finds it and sends it to forensics.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Nacht relates calmly. “But they’re currently swarming the the entire couple of blocks around it. I can’t send someone back in there yet. We’ll just have to intercept its course before it reaches their lab.”

Alph mumbled something to themselves before sighing. “Then let me call my dad.”

“What would he have to do with it?”

“He could… deal with it instead. He knows some people.”

“You don’t trust Cinder to take care of it? Urban is their operative as of this moment.” Sounds of Nacht shifting drift to Alph’s ears as the medic pats at them again.

“Bold of you to assume I trust them to do anything concerning him,” Alph seethes.

Nacht’s scrolling pauses, and Alph can almost feel the smile that must’ve started stretching across their uncle’s face. “Alright. Contact your father, but stay vague about it.”

Alph lifts their watch near their head. “Hey, Jerry,” they open and wait for the beep. “Call Fun Police.”

“Calling Fun Police,” Jerry replied as Nacht chuckled.

It only rang three times.

“Al, where the fuck have you been?” Garry immediately said.

“That’s not important. I found something I have to do, Dad. I just, I need something from you.”

Garry was silent.

“Dad?”

Garry’s heavy sigh was picked up, “What do you need me to do?”

“The gun,”

“Shit, Al. That violates—I can’t even begin to describe how much that violates the very point of my job.”

“Dad, it’s important.”

“Like Urban level of important or your mother level of important?” Alph stayed silent. Garry sighed again. “Alright. Yeah, okay. Just—come home safe. You need to stay missing?”

Alph stayed silent for a little while longer before responding, “It’d be appreciated.”

“Get out of whatever mess you’re in before it’s too late, Al.” With that, Garry hung up and left Alph to sit in the van, presumably with Nacht staring up at them. Alph was one of those people who could sort of tell when people looked at them.

“I like him,” Nacht said before his clicking through files resumed.

Alph raised an eyebrow, the medic dabbing near their chin again. “Jesus, what the hell happened right there?”

“Bruise.”

Alph didn’t like bruises. They tore themselves away from the rag and fell back against the van as it lurched along the highway.

It’d been—Alph didn’t like thinking about Urban’s mother much. That seemed like a much better way to put it. It had been some time after Alph had learned Urban was pyrokinetic before they saw the first physical marks appear. No matter how much Alph begged Urban to tell them who hurt him, he wouldn’t budge. He just wouldn’t, and eventually slipped up that he couldn’t leave Gabriel alone in the world.

It’d been Alph’s first hint. And also the reason Alph hadn’t said anything.

The second hint and dealbreaker had been when Alph showed up at Urban’s doorstep one day to take him out to the trail like he’d talked about for a while on his birthday, present in hand. Thinking about how Alph could hear the glass shattering from outside and none of the neighbors had cared still made their blood boil. Alph had been too horrified to call the police, to even ring the doorbell for several minutes. Just something hitting something else, over and over.

That’d been the day they decided they couldn’t keep hesitating about things they thought were wrong, when Alph finally got the guts to ring the doorbell and Urban’s mother had answered. Vague hints of blood along her knuckles. Urban had instead celebrated that birthday the next day, covered in enough patches to make Alph want to hurl.

It was also the last time Urban ever had a physical sign of abuse written on him. Alph never got another chance, even after getting the idea of getting their dad to adopt Gabriel.

Alph took a deep breath. They really hated bruises.

next chapter

━━━━━━━━━━━━ ▲ missing a content warning? let me know

another classic instance of police officers committing crimes

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taglist: @lychhiker-writes, @madeoforgansandtissues, @fins0up

[cross-word]

Snowed Confession

Ethan Landry x Male Reader

Non-ghost face, Ethan, Quinn and reader are Canadian

Word count: 1.2k

Walking into the hallways you hear cheers around you, celebrating winter break is finally here, Christmas, snow and the best two weeks off school, in one week you and your two best friends Quinn and Ethan are flying back to Canada for Christmas.

So your other friends decide to make this week the best week before leaving, “we should go skiing” chad said. “I’ve never done that in my entire life” you said “don’t you live in the good ‘ol north” mindy said sitting down next to anika.

“Yeah and I used to ride the polar bear bus to go to my igloo school” you sarcastically replied flipping mindy off “woah, where’s the Canadian hospitality” Tara joked “I will drown you in maple syrup” you said in a dead tone. “Oh come on it’ll be fun please” chad said dragging the please.

“Fine but I want Ethan to sit next to me” you said opening your phone. “Ohh and why is that?” anika asked, making her eyebrows go up and down. You throw a pillow in her face “Ethan is the only civilized person in this friend group, he doesn’t drool, he doesn’t take up that much space and he keeps to himself” you said listing reasons why you want Ethan.

That went on for a couple minutes “and that’s why ethan is the best person to have next to you when you go for a road trip” you finished your rant “Jesus just marry him at that point” Quinn added.

Everybody was focused on you and barely saw how Ethan’s face blushed the whole time you were ranting, he knew the only reason you want to sit next to him is cause he lets you sleep on him.

Chad coughed “well that’s it then we’ll go for a ski trip in the next week, let’s leave Thursday so we’ll have the whole weekend to ski” Chad proposed, everyone agrees.

Thursday comes around faster than you thought “come one Y/N they’re waiting” Anika groans on how you’ve been quadruple checking everything, “just go down I’ll be right behind you I have to make sure the windows are closed” you said going into each room to check.

You hear the door slam close, when you hear it slam close again, confused you check the main room you see Ethan standing there.

You had a confused look on you “why are you here” you asked triple making sure you had keys on you and lights were off. “It’s time to go Y/N,” Ethan said, grabbing your suitcase and walking to the door.

Being forced to leave you lock your door and walk downstairs seeing mindy and Anika in the car.

Ethan helps put your luggage in the back watching you. “Oh my god finally what took you so long” Mindy asked hitting her head on the steering wheel “I had to make sure we weren’t going to get robbed” you said as Ethan got in the car after you.

Ethan puts his hands on his face trying to get rid of the cold “it doesn’t matter just tell Chad we’re ready to go” he said smiling at you finally the car started and both your vehicle and chads start driving.

You groaned loud “why, New York why do you hate us” complaining about the New York traffic. “Just go to sleep on me I’ll wake you up when we’re close” Ethan suggested. Throwing two melatonin pills in your mouth you were passed out before anyone knew.

Mindy looked at you and Ethan sleeping “how does Ethan sleep when Y/N is snoring into his ear” she asked Quinn “I don’t know they’ve always been like that” she replied continuing to text her boy toy.

Anika looked back at the two of you “I don’t know I think it’s cute” she said smiling, causing Mindy to look back at the two “cute?? Y/N is literally drooling on Ethan’s shoulders” Mindy said looking at her girlfriend.

“Can you guys shut up and let us sleep?” Ethan said, flipping up the eye mask before laying his head on yours.

Before you knew it you were awoken by Ethan with gentle slaps to your face “we’re here idiot” he said wiping the drool off his shoulder with a tissue.

You looked at what he was doing realizing “sorry about that, your shoulders are really comfortable I guess”. You answered, taking a step out of the car and stretching, people passing by would think you’re trying to grab the air.

All of your friends grab their luggage and you all walk into the resort “hey yeah we spoke on the phone a couple hours ago my name Chad Meeks-Martin” he asked the receptionist.

She typed on the computer “three hotel rooms for three days” she asked Chad nods Chad gives you a key card “that's for you and Ethan quinn didn’t want to share a room with you two so she got her own room” he said walking away.

Chad gathers your friend group “ok so all of our rooms are basically together except for Quinn’s” you followed Chad walking in your hotel to see one bed. You and Ethan looked at each other.

You both settle your stuff on the floor and you jump on the bed and pass out for another three hours.

You look at the window to realize it was night time and you felt Ethan pull your body “good morning” Ethan joked at you feeling you wake up as he falls asleep again.

You lay in bed feeling Ethan’s arm come around your waist again “come closer, please” he said and you lay your head on his chest and fall asleep.

You two wake up because of a pounding at your door you open to see Chad “have you guys seen outside” he said barging in “what happening” Ethan asked being drowsy.

“It’s a complete blizzard outside” Chad said “our weekend getaway turned into weekend stay in a hotel” he said putting his hand in his face, “calm down Chad, did you check the forecast when is the blizzard going away” you asked sitting next to him.

“Saturday..” Chad said in his hands “Chad it's Friday, it’ll clear out tomorrow and we can ski tomorrow” Ethan spoke rubbing his back “you guys are right, I should go to Tara” Chad said exiting your room.

“Wow, he’s a bit dramatic” you said as the door closed “yeah and he's not even the gay one it’s you” Ethan joked getting a pillow to his face “let’s just go down stairs for breakfast” you said grabbing his hands.

You saw Mindy and Anika down there deciding to join them “you two are dating right” Mindy asked.

Getting you and ethan to choke on your food “no, why” you asked “cause you two are like me and anika” Mindy said “I mean it’s not like I wouldn’t mind” you confessed ethan looked at you with the biggest smile.

“I love you Y/N” he said, you stare at his beautiful curls and most amazing pair of brown eyes “I love you too Ethan” you confessed.

Maybe being snowed in wasn’t so bad you two thought.

[munson-blurbs]

Hey Bug! Congrats on 2k, that is absolutely amazing. I'm so proud of you! I've been thinking on this for a while. Could you pretty please write Eddie/Hawkins General Hospital/Platonic Friendship. ❤

Babes! Thank you so much for this req. I will never stop whining saying that we were robbed of an Eddie/Robin friendship, so I fixed that problem. Here ya go!

Warnings: coming out, brief allusion to Ronance if you squint, mentions of Eddie's UD injuries

WC: 874

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“Hey.”

The voice at the doorway draws Eddie’s attention away from The Fellowship of the Ring. He’s gotten accustomed to the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor over the last few days, but with the whole town under duress and his own less-than-stellar reputation, visitors have been scarce.

“Can I come in?” Robin asks shyly, clutching a brown paper bag in her right hand. She tucks a short lock of hair behind her ear as she waits for Eddie’s approval.

“Buckley!” he practically shouts, temporarily forgetting his limitations and wincing in pain. “Shit. Yeah, come on in. Welcome to my humble abode.” He pats the bed, beckoning her to sit down. “How’s the outside world?”

“Oh, you know,” Robin snorts, taking a seat next to him, “Hawkins is crumbling around us thanks to a monster from an alternate dimension. Just the usual.” Her expression turns more serious as she says, “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, you know,” Eddie grins as he mimics her tone, “Tending to my wounds courtesy of some weird bat-demogorgon hybrids from said alternate dimension. Just the usual.” His eyes flit over to her bag. “Whatcha got in there? Robin Buckley, did you bring me a sacrifice for my weekly Satanic ritual?”

Robin rolls her eyes and pulls out two bottles of Yoo-Hoo and a box of Honeycomb cereal. “You don’t seem like a flowers-and-balloons kinda guy, so I went with what I knew.” She opens one of the bottles and hands it to Eddie. “I wanted to bring you a six-pack of beer, but I didn’t think the receptionist would let me bring it in.”

“Probably not,” Eddie agrees, taking a swig of chocolate milk and sloppily wiping away the bit that dribbles down his chin. “But this was really nice of you. Thanks.” He offers a small smile and tries to prop himself up a bit. “You’re welcome to stick around, but there’s, uh, not much to do around–”

“I need to tell you something,” Robin blurts out, shaking her head as if trying to rearrange her scattered thoughts. “I mean, when we thought you, um–”

“Kicked the bucket?” Eddie jokes, frowning when she doesn’t laugh with him. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Tears cloud Robin’s vision, and she blinks them away. “I never got to thank you.”

He waves her off with his empty hand. “No need to thank me. That was probably the most metal concert I’ll ever put on in my life.” And the most terrifying, he thinks, but keeps it to himself.

“Not that; although Dustin seriously won’t shut up about how cool it was,” she remarks. “No, I mean, even before all this…I always thought it was really badass that you weren’t afraid to be yourself. Something pisses you off? You’re on top of a cafeteria table, ranting and raving about it. Someone calls you a freak? You just give them the devil horns and move on with your day.” She’s rambling now, but she can’t stop. “And when you were talking the other day about people ‘hunting the freak’? That’s…that’s always what scared me away from being myself.”

“You’re not a freak,” Eddie scrunches up his nose in confusion. “Maybe, like, a band geek at worst. But not a freak; not by a long–”

“I’m gay.” Robin lets the words linger in the air for a moment, waiting for him to react with disgust or even anger. But all she sees is his face soften, feels his calloused hand on her trembling one.

After what seems like a lifetime, he speaks up. “Nice,” he nods slowly. “Yeah, I can see why you’d be afraid to tell people that. This town isn’t exactly known for its accepting nature.” He takes another drink from the Yoo-Hoo bottle. “But, y’know, that doesn’t matter to me. Gay, straight, bisexual…you’re still my friend. At least,” he adds sheepishly, “at least, I hope we’re friends.”

Robin’s shoulders sag with relief. “Of course we’re friends, Munson. You can’t just battle Vecna with someone and then disappear from their lives.”

“That’s always been my motto.” He fumbles with the cereal box, and Robin helps him tear open the plastic. “I promise I’ll give you a hug when I’m not connected to a million machines and, y’know, in searing pain every time I move.” His eyes widen in sudden realization. “Hey, is this why you and Harrington never…”

“That’s not the only reason,” Robin giggles. “Could you imagine me dating a dingus like Steve Harrington?”

“Aw, but you could share hair products!” Eddie goads; Robin buries her head in her hands. “How about Lady Wheeler? You two seemed pretty cozy this last week.”

“Oh, you mean while we were fighting for our lives? Yeah, that tends to bring people closer together.” Robin, no longer nervous, slides right back to her signature sarcasm. “Besides, the last thing I need is a crush on another straight girl.”

“Another?”

“I am not talking about my love life—or lack thereof—with you,” she protests. 

“C’mon. I’m so bored; I need a little gossip to keep me from flinging myself out the goddamn window.” Eddie whines dramatically, pouting until Robin gives in. 

“Fine.” She gives an exasperated sigh, but she’s still smiling. “So, there’s this girl named Vickie…”

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