#scar pov

[imp-and-skizz-but-everywhere]

Gem is Not Impressed by the moon landing

[phoenix-writez]

Decided to post entry #1 here as some people may not enjoy reading things on ao3 :D

I'm not sure how to format the fic on tumblr, so feel free to give me criticism! (Constructive. Criticism. I will ignore insulting)

So, have fun with Scar's POV! It's in first person, so if you're not a fan of that... Sorry! I try to analyze the characters beforehand and write them as themselves! Scar's a silly little guy, so I hope I got that down!

—

Entry #1

[SCAR]

August 18, 1997

This place is fun, honestly! I got here just four days ago!

A theater filled with red and pink strobe lights, it feels rather disco-ey, if I'm being honest. There's a rather large stage where people step up and say whatever they want. There's actors, circus acts, and even singers. Or karaoke.

Why is karaoke spelled that way? It should be kareoke, but to each their own!

Either way, I've gone up there a few times just to sing songs from my favorite cartoons. Had a few cheers from the crowd, but not many.

I loved it here though!

When I first got to the theater, I had been with a few friends. I don't know where they went, lost track of them. I remember this guy welcoming us, holding out his hand and grinning fancily.

“Welcome, all! This is the Eye’s Spy Theatre!”

Trust me, it's not spelled theater. I learned the hard way.

“Want me to take you to your rooms?” The fella acknowledged each of us. He had a towel folded over his arm, just like a butler would in a fictional story. I tilted my head to the side like a dog, “Sir? No offense, but I don't recall this being a hotel.”

“Perhaps you missed the sign, but all is well, Scar Goodtimes, your room is already booked. First floor, as always! Can't be giving you anything further than that with your given situation, can we?” He says, then steps behind me.

I raise my hands, “WAIT– Hands off, fancy guy! Firstly, what do you mean?”

“How do you know his name?” My friend asked. Fancy Guy looked over, “When you book a room, we get your names on the screen. Besides, I know everyone in this town.”

Right.

—

August ??????

I woke up with a start, hearing a bang nearby. I pull myself onto my chair and roll onward, out of the room.

“What?! What happened–”

I look towards the stage, my breath slows. “Oh! Obviously.” I giggle, then I do a double take. What the– “What am I doing up there?!”

On the stage, was me in a weird outfit. I've never seen this kind of outfit before, honestly. Maybe some new fashion shaped itself in the six days I've been here.

Wait… how long has it been?

I blink, but I can't really think. My memory is kinda foggy.

I see more characters on the stage, some blue haired guy and this ginger lady clearly tired out and breathing heavy. I'm not sure if it was Hollywood level acting, or they were actually just overworked out of their minds.

I roll towards the bar, and no, this bar isn't necessarily an alcoholic bar you see at night time when everything else closes. I'm sixteen! I can't even drink anyway! I doubt rules changed that much when I've been here.

I grin at the tender, “Do you have anything other than really warm milk? It was you, after all, who said you'd make this the best experience possible y'know.”

“I… we do, in fact. Anything you want, dear hero.”

“Hero? My name is Scar, did you forget that fancy pants?” I smirk. “No. I did not.” He said flatly.

“Oh.”

“I'd like just a simple water, honestly.” I said. “Ah, only the crispiest we'll hand out for you.” The man kneels towards the shelves.

Huh? I blink. He's reaching up at them actually, I swear I've been seeing things.

I spend my time drinking the water and distracting myself from the fact I may have just met my walking doppelganger. Though he's using a cane, still those legs can work and I'm jealous.

Just kidding, I don't care.

—

After a few minutes, I nearly jump, but I keep my composure. Another guy, looks around my age but surprisingly short. I'd give him a… 4’11? Jeez, really needs a growth spurt by now.

He ordered an orange juice and stared into the distance. That's when he spoke to me, “Fun act, right?”

“I wasn't really interested, too confusing. What was that back there, some kinda jester or whatever?”

“I'd give it a 5 out of tried their best.” The short guy said, then he turned to look at me and giggled. “You look like one of the actors.”

“Must be a long lost brother.” I put my cup down and look at him, and woah. My eyes widened and I smiled awkwardly. “Well! That's a… so what's your name, orange juice?”

“Oh! My name's Grian.” He smiled so brightly. I chuckled, “Cool! My name is Scar.”

“Oh I know–”

“Huh?”

“Sorry, long story.”

“Everyone knows my name in this place!” I look back at the table in front of us. “That would be a given. This place isn't really, well, real.” Someone walked towards us both.

Actually, a group.

The actors.

“Aw, I'm getting a standing ovation from the fellas themselves–” I look around. “Where's the guy who looked like me?”

“Hi.” This strange lab coat wearing guy– oh! I know him. Cub?!

I blinked. How long ago did he show up here? Two days ago I saw him on the news and he looked much shorter, and he'd been running away from a police department, some sort of forensics office he'd blown up.

Cub raked his hands through his hair, it looked really messy. “I sorta used this weird amulet to change my appearance.”

“Are we still acting?” I asked, “Amulet, you say? Well, I simply cannot!” Immediately, my hand impacts my forehead dramatically. “... We're acting, right?”

“No.” Grian said, “Though he is lying, listen, Scar. I'm gonna ask you a really weird question and you have to answer me.”

“Uh-huh…”

“What year is it?”

“Oh! That's easy, 1997, duh! Did you guys hit your heads or something?” I smiled, chuckling. The bartender finally came by and gave Grian his orange juice. Then he vanished.

Grian grabbed his cup and he took a sip. “1997, hm? What if I told you it's not?”

“I wouldn't believe you.” I giggled. “I've been here for a week, duh! Got here just Monday with some of my friends. Where did they go, though?” I looked around. I still couldn't see them.

“They probably got out.” The sassy blue guy said, “Yeah, or stuck.” The ginger crossed her arms. I looked at them. “They’re just in their rooms.”

“Why don't we take a look then, huh? Where are their rooms?” Grian asks, I shift awkwardly. “...Third floor.”

“This thing doesn't have an elevator for you?” Cub asks.

“If a building ain't as tall as five stories, there's no need.” I lean back in my chair. “Which is, uh, needless to say, no.”

The ginger thought for a moment, then she grinned. “Tell them the numbers, and we'll go on from there. I'll stay back with you, just so you have someone near you!”

“I'm fine on my own.” I looked at her. “Absolutely not,” she glanced at me up and down, “genuinely, if I had to guess. You're dehydrated, probably haven't eaten much, and the moment you see the sun your eyes will wish you'd gone blind.”

“With these strobe lights? Might as well have gone blind already.” I shrugged, she stared at them. “They're LED now.”

“Meh! I think they always have been, luminescent and whatnot.” I said, “What's your name, by the way?”

“Gem. That there is Scott, he's uh… something, alright.” She sighed. Scott, the fancy blue guy, waves. “I'll go up third floor, what's the room?”

“Rooms, uh… 307, 315? I think?”

“Why are they so separated?” Grian’s eyes widened. “The rooms might've been taken between ‘em.” Cub immediately began his journey towards the stairs.

“Eight rooms between them?! Cub, there's seven people in this room!”

“Most people got drained after the second day and went to sleep. Haven't seen them since.” I added.

Grian paused. He looked at Gem, and they both seemed to come to an agreement. I heard Gem mutter, “Hypnos,” and she sat by me. Grian stood up.

“I thought that guy was fine by now! What's going on?” He grumbled. My head laid on the table like my neck had gotten exhausted from holding it. “Maybe he changed his mind.”

“Or maybe, this establishment is really old and he forgot to tear it down.” Grian sighed, then he took a step forward and looked at the ground.

“What's… this symbol doing here?”

“Aren't you supposed to be heading up to the third floor?” I said, for some reason my body felt like all the energy was getting sucked out of it. I don't know how, but everything in my field of vision was getting blurry. And Grian had sharp-ish ears, and an elven face. I swore he didn't look real.

Because he didn't.

I glanced at Gem, and she looked completely normal. Besides the fact that she was actively plotting something and had a sword in her belt. I don't know what I saw before, but I guess I just assumed she was in some sort of costume.

Everyone wears costumes around here. I've seen a giant guy with a hundred arms walk around here demanding for some cyclops guy, then he exited the building fine as that.

I felt nauseous, and everything went black.

—

I don't know. I don't know what today is. Everything is the same.

I wasn't out for long, fainting spells don't usually last longer than a minute. I woke up and everyone was staring at me with concern. “We found your friends.” Scott grimaced, “And we found you, doing the same thing as them.”

“I passed out, I don't know what happened.” I groaned, “Grian, since when were you an elf guy?”

Grian giggled, “I'm not an elf, idiot.”

“Why are your ears all sharp then?”

“Oh! That's just normal, I was born like that.” Grian shrugged, “But back to you. You passed out on our watch, which means this doesn't happen when you're on your own.”

“Possible.” Cub gazed at the floor, then he leaned and played around with the tiles like it was a puzzle. “What do you mean possible? We proved your hypothesis, thank you.” Grian tilted his head.

“What if we're not registered here?” Cub lifted himself, holding a brick that revealed a gaping hole underneath the building. “What if we're just simply wanderers with no true meaning to this place?”

“We'd still be people, hun.” Scott said flatly.

“Not in this place. I think this is an entirely different world compared to, well, Earth.” Cub grabbed a coin out of his pocket, and he dropped it into the abyss.

“Scar, do you perceive things differently than normal people?” He looked up at me. I couldn't help but think that this situation is way too serious for a random questionnaire I've had billions of times when I was younger.

The answer is yes.

It's always yes.

“When I was, like, six, my mom found me digging at the ground. It's ‘cause I heard some rattling, and I wanted to free the thing that was suffering. When I finally did, it was a skeleton monster! She grabbed me and pulled me away, told me never to do that again.” I started, “That those things are dangerous, that my father would be back and he would never want to see me playing with creatures I can't define.”

“I mean, a skeleton monster is pretty much accurate.” Grian laughed, “Wait, you don't know your dad?”

“Nope!” I smiled, “Always asked, was told he died.”

“...So how would he be back?” Scott squinted. “We had a ouija board in our house, although it's only for eight year olds and older, and I was barely able to simply sleep on my own.” I sighed.

But, the presence of the board didn't scare me knowing what it did. I quite like the idea of ghosts, and I know we had some in our house. They slept in the corners, watched me do my chores, and stared at me when my health declined.

Not much they could've done anyhow.

I felt my hands clenching on my legs, and I released them. “Uh… I never believed that. There was no grave we visited. Ever. She just said it like it was a fact from years ago.”

Cub nodded, then we heard the coin ding and slam itself into what sounded like concrete. I glanced at the floor. “What was that?!” I press my hands to the wheels of my chair. “Cub?!”

“I heard what I needed to hear.” He smiled, then simply disappeared.

We all stared where he left. “UGH! CUB!” Grian grabbed a knot of his own hair and tugged, but not pulling anything out. I gazed at the underground, and I swear I felt a calling.

Like I needed to be somewhere.

That's when the stupid butler grabbed all of us and dragged us out. “I do believe your time here is over, thank you for being so kind.” He shoved us out the door. I locked my chair and looked around, frozen.

“Where's Cub?! WHERE'S IMPULSE YOU–” Grian grabbed Gem and pulled her aside. She'd been yelling at the guy the whole time we were getting kicked out. I had no idea there was another person with them that had gone missing.

I had a theory, but it wasn't so friendly.

And I swear I could see that guy in a different form now that I had been placed outdoors.

He was tall, almost goopy, and I swear he had one giant eye in the middle of his face that stared deeply into your soul.

Normally I saw him as just this generic black-haired guy. He had this way about him that felt, well, casual yet business.

Like he was familiar with you but he didn't want to get fired.

I covered my face with my hands. Just thinking about my mother made me realize something.

“Guys, what year is it?” My tired eyes felt like they were dragging on the ground. I could just feel the hot pavement scraping my eyelids.

“...Scar, it's 2025.” Grian said.

“...Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

I stared at the outdoors, and felt like I'd been through multiple disasters at once.

“It was just a week…”

But now I realize how much time I truly spent there. And it doesn't make me too glad to know it.

[convexicalcrow]

Scar saw Cub crossing the Great Bridge from Pix's empire, eyes still sunken and glowing. He'd been trying to help with wrangling all of Joe's cats, but that was proving impossible, given he wasn't Joe, and the cats just did not care for him at all. Indeed, Joe had given up an hour ago, leaving Scar to feed over a hundred cats all clamouring after the fish Joe had left him with. Feeding a few cats was fun! Feeding this many cats was a nightmare.

To be fair, though, it had been a welcome distraction from Cub. Scar had grown used to always knowing where he was, because he could always find him through the hivemind. But he'd been cut off a few days back, probably when he got corrupted, and Scar hadn't expected that would hurt. Perhaps not seeing much of Cub helped the pain dissipate, along with all the work he was doing in Jimmy's base. Let his mind think of other things, his hands do other work, rather than think about Cub. He'd be fine, though, right? Cub knew what he was doing.

That thought lingered as Cub approached. His demeanor seemed… cheerful? He waved and jogged over, seemingly happy to see him. Scar, to his credit, was happy to see him too. He was just confused by what had happened and why he'd been kept out of potential prankage.

"Scar! Hello there!" Cub called as he fought his way through all the cats. "It's like season five all over again! Are these all yours?"

"Oh, no, no! They're not mine! Sir Joe of the Hills bred all these cats. I forget why now. I'm not sure he even remembers. I'm sure it was for something important, though," Scar said. "Haven't seen you in a while either, Cub. Been busy, hey?"

"Yeah, yeah, something like that," Cub said. "Just had some stuff to do, you know how it is."

"You've been spreading skulk all over the place, or so I've heard," Scar said.

Cub smiled. "Maybe, maybe. It's the best kind of prank, though, because it's invisible. You can't see what's causing the skulk to spread, just that it's coming from somewhere. It's genius."

"Genius, yes, and also very annoying. It's very you, Cub, I'm proud of you coming over this new server and pranking everyone just for fun. Right?" Scar said.

Cub laughed, and it wasn't a laugh Scar found reassuring. "Gotta spread the skulk, Scar, gotta spread the souls, and welcome the darkness, my friend."

Scar was afraid he might say that. Clearly someone had to intervene, and he wasn't sure anyone but him could get through to Cub. "Yeah, see this? This skulk possession thing? That's a problem. And it's not just my problem, but your problem. The Vex are so angry, Cub, because the skulk took something that rightfully belongs to Them! And even beyond that, I miss you! I can't feel you anymore! I want my Vex buddy back! Surely you're not going to throw away all our years of Vexing together away for skulk, right?"

Cub looked confused. "But I-I didn't… I didn't choose this, Scar. I didn't! I just- Shubble sent me into the fog, and I came out with all this extra power! And all we did was spread catalysts! There's nothing wrong with that, right?"

"We are holy vessels for the Vex, Cub, and that vessel has now been desecrated! And you're just going to laugh it off as a prank? Nothing serious? You are the greatest Vex magician the Vex have ever known. Come on, Cub, you're better than that. This isn't you. Come back to the Vex. Come back to me. I can't live without you, Cub. We've been through too much together. Please," Scar said, unsure if any of his words would work but unwilling to keep quiet about it. "How much of the last week do you even remember?"

Cub gazed away, scratching the back of his head. "Bits and pieces. But it's like that with the Vex. What's the problem? Also, once again, I didn't choose this, Scar. I was taken. I don't even remember how! I just walked into the fog, and walked out looking like this! I don't know what happened! And I can't fix it if I don't know how it happened, alright?"

Scar crossed his arms as he looked him over. Part of him didn't think Cub was lying. But Cub was good at lying about things just like he was. It's why they got on so well. "Do you actually want to fix it, or are you just saying that? Because you look pretty happy to me."

"In the lucid moments, yes, yes I want to fix it. I just-"

Cub was suddenly grasping his throat, and Scar panicked, grabbing hold of him tightly. "No! No, we're not doing this. Not today, skulk!"

Scar summoned some Vex magic and sent it all to Cub, focusing on burning back the skulk corruption as best he could. It was an imperfect spell, of course; Cub was the master of this stuff. But it did seem to work a little bit. Some of the skulk on Cub's skin did seem to retreat, and Cub collapsed in his arms, breathing heavily.

"Alright, skulk, you've picked the wrong vessel to infect. The Vex are coming for you, and you can't win," Scar said as he lifted Cub into his arms and carried him back down the bridge.

[canarydarity]

Fandom: Life series smp

Words: 4463

Relationships: Grian/GoodTimesWithScar, Grian & GoodTimesWithScar

Additional tags: Last Life SMP: session 4, magical mountain, angst, Scar POV, introspection, GoodTimesWithScar needs a hug, desert duo, can be read as /r or /p, not canon-compliant, wizard GoodTimesWithScar, not RPF

Summary:

The trick to selling a good con was believing in it yourself—no one was going to fall for something they didn’t believe that you believed to be true. Scar knew this and he knew it well, but still, he was always his own toughest audience. 

Alternatively, I have not thought of anything but the sad local wizard man in weeks. Here, have this half character study, half desert duo fic.

[pusangkambing]

The C(l)ockers!!! :D

[starry-bi-sky]

(Part of this post with older brother danyal al ghul)

...Okay, look. Sam knows she's staring. She knows very well that she is staring. And that if she doesn't stop staring it's gonna draw her unwanted attention, and that will only have to make her explain why she's staring. Which she doesn't want to do.

She's trying not to stare, which she thinks she should get brownie points for. She tries to look away, to find a spot on the wall to stare lifelessly at, maybe she can burn holes into some of these annoying socialites' heads. But eventually her eyes drift, and suddenly she's back to staring again.

Can you blame her though? Damian Wayne looks like a very close mini-me of her fucking best friend. Seriously, it's like looking into a mirror to the past. If that mirror to the past had green eyes rather than blue and a distinctive lack of a facial scar.

The first time she sees him when her parents drag her over to Bruce Wayne to butter up to him she has to do a doubletake. Then a triple take. Then a quadruple take, just for good measure that she was seeing what she was actually seeing. She was sure she looked like one of those stress toys that when squeezed had their eyes pop out comically like a Saturday morning cartoon, that's what she certainly felt like anyways.

Look, Danny's come a decent way from being that scowl-y, jerkish little ten year old she first met when he arrived like the wind to Amity Park five years ago (even if he was still occasionally scowl-y and jerkish), but one thing that's stayed the same is how reserved he is about his home life prior to being taken in by the Fentons.

He doesn't talk about it much, and Sam's come to know that he's very good at changing the subject when it gets brought up. Even after being friends for nearly four years, the only thing she and Tuck know for certain is that he has a little brother that he refers to as 'starlight', whom he cares a lot about but left on really bad terms with. And that he's never met his father, but wants to and knows who he is.

He's never told her or Tucker who he was though, and glancing at Bruce Wayne, Sam is realizing why. She can begrudgingly acknowledge all the good he's done for Gotham, but... well, if Danny told her that Bruce Wayne was his dad, she wouldn't have believed him at all.

But she's starting to see the resemblance, as subtle as it is.

And she sees the resemblance to Damian Wayne, her eyes dropping back down to him as he wears a very Danny-like scowl on his face, arms crossed behind his back as his eyes swept around the ballroom. He was five years younger than Danny, and god it was so, so weird.

His eyes turned on to her, and they locked gazes for a moment.

Involuntarily, Sam makes a startled noise and looks away. Fingers tap against her purse, black and purple and unfortunately a clutch that only held her phone and her wallet in it. She would have kept a knife on her, but her parents put their foot down and there was a security detail at the door. Only in Gotham.

Silently, she was hoping that the little Danny-me didn't say anything. Or at least, he hadn't noticed her staring. Which was a tall order if she ever heard one -- and unfortunately, her silent prayers went unanswered as her mother's eyes dropped down onto her.

"Did you say something, Samantha?" She asks in a sickeningly sweet voice, a sound that makes Sam's skin crawl. Her dad and Bruce Wayne's attention also turns onto her, and she glowers at her mom from the corner of her eye.

"I didn't say anything." Sam says, barely keeping her tone polite as she turned her head away. Her mother clucks her tongue, disapproving, but from her peripherals doesn't pester her more

Bruce Wayne, the bastard, takes that time to turn to Sam and grace her with his dime-a-dozen billboard smiles. "I've been talking with your parents this whole time, Miss Manson, you must be terribly bored. How is your schooling going?"

Sam eyes him up and down. On one hand, she immediately wants to be snarky. It's none of his business what her school life is like, she doesn't care for his fucking small talk.

On the other hand, this was Danny's whole father. Someone who she knows that Danny has wanted to meet for, what she's assuming, his whole life. He's never brought it up much, but she remembers that very quiet, solemn conversation she and Tucker had with him where he admits to having never met his dad. But god does he want to.

And... wait. Sam's eyes narrow, and she meets Bruce Wayne's eyes. Does this man even know Danny exists? She drops her gaze down to Damian, who was staring at her suspiciously, and then back up to Bruce, and she alternates between them.

Why was Damian living with Bruce, but not Danny? Why hasn't Bruce done anything to reach out to him - what was going on with Danny's biological family that Danny had to be separated from them, but not Damian? Danny's always been kinda mysterious, but now things weren't adding up.

Was Danny given up? Does Bruce just not want Danny, but wanted Damian? Why the fuck does Bruce Wayne know about Damian but not her best friend -- or does he know and just not care? He's fought for custody for his adoptive kids before, does he just not want to fight for his other biological son? Does he think Danny's not worth it?

She's never cared much about the Wayne family before, other than to hear about the advancements on WE's eco-friendly tech, but Sam thinks she's gonna have to look into why Damian Wayne was living with the Waynes.

Slowly, with a protective anger beginning to burn in her gut and crawl up her throat, a scowl slowly curls at the corner of her lip as she redirects her glare from her mother onto Bruce. "It's going fine," She says curtly, jutting her chin out defiantly. "Me and my friend Danny started a petition to fix the leaky faucets in the girls and boys' bathrooms in order to conserve more water for the rest of the city."

She eyes his face, waiting to see if anything like recognition flashes through it. And- and nothing. Sam breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to quell the red that's blurring the edge of her vision -- does he just, not know where Danny is?

Her parents however, make vaguely displeased expressions. "Our Samantha is... quite passionate about her pet projects." Her dad says, laughing low and nervously, "she's very vocal about silly things like that."

"Her friend Daniel is perhaps even worse than she is sometimes." Her mother adds on, fanning her face with her perfectly manicured hands with a sigh. "I swear, he's the one that keeps dragging her into these things."

Sam's anger turns on its head, and she whirls on her heel like a fire-breathing dragon. "It's Danyal." It rolls out like instinct. Danny's told them both that he hates the Americanized pronunciation of his name, but in a rare moment of restraint, puts up with it for reasons unknown to her. "And Danny doesn't make me do anything, it was my idea."

The name, Danyal, seems to ring some kind of bell in Brucie Wayne's head, because she sees him and Damian quietly perk up like two cats pricking up their ears. Her eyes flick onto him immediately, something dangerous rearing its head. So Bruce Wayne knows about Danny. And he's not reaching out to him. Is he? She's not sure.

She does know that she's gonna rip his throat out if she finds out that he's known about Danny this entire time and has been ignoring him while favoring his little brother. She'll hunt down Aragon herself and steal his dragon-shifting amulet and wreck house on Bruce Wayne if that's the case. Batman and his league of vigilantes be damned. Her parents don't notice her slowly turning head towards Bruce.

But Bruce does, and she makes direct eye contact with him. His smile doesn't falter, he just tilts his head like a curious puppy and looks at Sam's parents. She hopes Bruce can read minds, she hopes he can hear her threatening him.

"Danyal?" He asks, and Sam doesn't know if she hates the fact that he said it correctly or not. She just continues burning holes into him and hoping he might spontaneously combust.

Her mother waves her hand dismissively, tilting her nose up poshly into the air. "Our dear Samantha's little... foster friend from school," she says, not even bothering to hide her disdain, "a creepy little boy with the most garish scar on his face. He's a rude little thing, not good for polite company."

Scratch that, Sam mentally alternates between ripping into her parents and Bruce. She whirls on them. "Do not talk about Danny that way." She all but snarls, and they all but ignore her.

(She's tearing up the upholstery when she gets home. She's going to paint over the fine china. She's going to do something to make them pay for this.)

"Oh yes, he was taken in by that freaky Fenton family a few years ago." Her dad continues in lieu of her mom, and they both shake their heads disapprovingly. "It's just what our city needs, another menace."

"Danny is not a menace." Sam continues, raising her voice while her hands shake with rage. Her parents finally look at her, but she can already tell that they're going to scold her for raising her voice. She bulldozes over them and jabs her black-painted finger at them. "He's got a bigger heart than the both of you combined."

"Samantha, please." her mom says, exasperated. They both give her disapproving looks, Sam thinks about grabbing champagne off the tray of a nearby waiter and throwing it in their faces. "You defend that boy far too much. What do you actually know about him and his family?"

Sam sets her jaw, puffing herself up like a dragon protecting its hoard. She steps into her mom's space. "I know that he loves the stars; you can ask him anything about astronomy and he could give you an entire lecture on the formation, class types, and various gasses that stars are made up of. He can tell you how the Earth was formed, he can tell you about the visible light spectrum and about light curves, and a whole ton of other stuff that I don't really understand. But Danny loves talking about it."

Her face twists and scowls, "I know he cares a ton about the environment and about fixing light pollution, and preserving the forests and natural habitats of animals." She nearly jabs her finger into her mom's chest, "I know he loves dogs, and that there's one he feeds every day on the way to school that he calls Cujo, its a St. Bernard puppy and Danny carries him around whenever he sees him after school, and is in the middle of training him."

It's not a total lie, but it's not the whole truth either. Cujo doesn't need food, but Danny gives him it anyways. "I know he likes spicy food and loves movies but specifically only sci-fi and horror, and he hates most martial arts movies. His favorite superhero is the Martian Manhunter, but Batman comes in at a close second." For reasons to her that were pretty unknown, but it didn't matter.

"I know he loves wordplay and making puns, which I would have never expected from him when we first met, but it's so unbelievably Danny-like that I can't imagine him not making puns." And she smiles a little to herself, she remembers the first time Danny intentionally made a pun once and it got startled laughs out of both her and Tucker.

Her smile suddenly falters, and she swallows. Her lips purse up, wobbling, and she very quickly glances over to Damian Wayne, of whom is watching her with a vaguely bewildered expression alongside Bruce.

She turns her eyes back onto her parents. "And I know that he worries a lot, even if he has a shit way of showing it. I know he had a little brother that he hasn't seen since he was adopted by the Fentons, and he doesn't talk about him often but when he does he he calls him 'starlight'." From the corner of her eye, she sees Damian jerk.

"So- so, so what if he's not 'good for polite company'." Sam's voice, embarrassingly, cracks down the middle. But she's so angry over Danny's behalf that she doesn't really care. "Or that he can be mean, and critical, and stubborn. He's learning, and he's becoming kinder by the day. That's more than I can say about you."

(She remembers when Danny finally admitted to her and Tucker being his 'closest friends'. It was sometime before the portal incident, and it felt like a milestone because beforehand he only really referred to them as his companions or allies.)

(At the time, he'd looked unsure of himself. Skittish like a stray in the back of an alleyway, almost shy in his own way. It had come out stilted, slow, like an infant taking its first steps, and it would have been endearing if it hadn't been heartbreaking.)

Her parents rear back like she'd struck them, and her mother holds a hand against her chest in aghast. Sam doesn't care, she blinks the sting out of her eyes. "Samantha." Her mother starts.

Sam cuts her off, "I don't care what you have to say, you-- you pricks." she snaps, around her, there are gasps. Belatedly, she realizes she's grown an audience, but again she doesn't care. "Danny might be an asshole, but he cares. And I'd rather be around someone whose mean but cares, than someone whose nice but doesn't."

With that, she whirls on her foot and turns on Bruce Wayne, who has been silent the entire time with a surprised expression on his face. He starts to shake out of it when Sam turns to him, but she doesn't give him the chance to speak. "Enjoy your party." She snarls, and then stalks away.

[yashley]

"I’ve never seen someone hang up on someone in a conversation." bonus: lila, 1 second later:

[meercraft]

Real life is everything to me. Scar, Cleo, Ren and Skizz look like they’re children. No one can run. Combat is horrific. 90% of ppl are on red life within thirty minutes. Grian randomly sometimes shows a facecam for the first time in what feels like years. There’s a sleepover and club you can only enter upon dying. BigB is freakishly tall for no reason. Grian is falling and then ascending like Jesus Christ on easter. All of them are going to puke

[legally-allowed-to-slime]

kind of funny how gem and pearl were acting out the most elaborate angst ever and goodtimewithscar was thinking “killgem killgem killgem killgem ok good killpearl killpearl killpearl oh she dead?”

[quaranmine]

ETHO SAID HE WAS GOING HOME BEFORE HE DIED? HE WANTED TO DIE AT HOME? MY HEART-

[imp-and-skizz-but-everywhere]

[solarockk]

HE'S HERE!! (feat the png version of Impulse and Gem anyone could use for memes)

[widows-alliance-but-everywhere]

[levitanias]

most recent scar/grian hermitcraft uploads am i right

[athanmis]

i'm going home everybody...😿

[katkat030]

Some season 10 screenshots!