#trying to get back into groove of drawing more frequently

[kaysavanart]

Last minute Valentine’s Day doodle of mine and @pebblefriend DnD characters who got together near the end of the campaign

[checkereddreamsandicecreams]

Studying and practicing…I’m still alive I swear.

[missis-maple394]

ESPERA - SKETCH25USDCOMM

DO NOT REPOST / EDIT / TRACE / MONETIZE MY ART FROM OTHER SITES.

Only clients can repost my work without permission and provide artist link to direct my art gallery.

Author’s comment:

Sketch 25USD Commission for GalaxyDamakun's OC, Espera! I had a lot of fun with this one, I wanted to try more texture brushes to match my sketches!

This took me way longer to draw and finishing it since last night, slowly getting back to my groove for work. Last few weeks ago was rough, due to extreme stormy seasons and frequently sicknesses.

My vgen.co is live, available for SKETCH25USDCOMM & TOONY ILLUST.! It will be limited slots, and working production will be much longer than my previous commissions. Help me verified my account to prove that I work hard as an artist!

Author's Note:

DO NOT start a roleplay using direct messages/comments & replies with my artworks. Aesthetic or inspiration tag is good enough

DO NOT add your playful or direct rudeness to my posts such as replies, comments, hidden tags and private messages.

DO NOT tag and marked as a kin/me/morally questionable content etc. Aesthetic or Inspiration tag is good enough.

DO NOT claim my artworks belong to you, and removing / cropping my watermarks away.

DO NOT sell my art for monetary profit.

DO NOT SUBMIT ANY CRYPTOCURRENCY/NFT ART AND A.I. IMAGE GENERATOR WITH MY COMMISSIONED / PERSONAL ARTWORK.

DO NOT dub my artwork / comics, especially A.I. voicework.

Please DM me for inquiries such as commissioned work or reporting my artwork has been reposted or edited.

Desktop: | Commission/Support Link | My FAQ/Links | Archives |

Mobile: | Commission Sheet | My FAQs |

[scottuminga]

Greetings to my Fans, Family, Friends, Followers and Fellow Artists. Thanks for sticking around me this year. In regards to updating my socials. I find that I tried to get into a groove. But with things changing it might have been put on the back burner. I really hope to document and share with the world more of what interests me, and the pieces I create. There’s also a restlessness in me that wants to find communities and circles that share these fascinations. I was talking to my cousin the other day, and I mentioned how the year went by and spent time waiting. But realized during those periods of quiet, that there was time for me to do things I wanted to create for myself. I’ll make sure to seize these moments without pressure to really go forward.

Some reflection notes from 2023. I found I added at least a few more 3d Elements and particles into my art. And building my own codex of shapes has excited my psyche. It's like a new set of brushes that gives a twist to my body of tools. I hope to make more traditional illustrations and drawings with poetic ties, because I think I’ve been separating my own arts for most of my life. And I really want to just say “This is all part of me”.

I’m going to jinx myself. But with the year nearing an end. I find there were events and synchronicities that have been frequenting me like it did pre covid. And there have been moments where my schedule and things in life just end up being at the right time, or happens right after another. There are times I get anxious leading up to these things and when the time comes, it all just comes out fine. And I’m relieved that it happened. I really want to remember, cherish and carry these 2023 moments of feeling adventurous and comfortable again.

I want to think 2024 will become a significant year. And I’m going to really try exercising that creative muscle and produce whatever comes to mind. Remember to go at your own pace, and also reach out to those important to you and the ones who made and make life exciting. <3Scott.

[inmz02]

Learning Art | Day 7

שלום

I haven’t been able to do my art studies as I wanted to because the past few days I’ve been busy and then becoming too tired to do anything because of it! But I got the courage to open my tablet and computer and paint something!

One of my other fears I had when I used to draw frequently in the past was the ability to draw noses from different angles. I preferred the font-view version of the nose but anything else I was too scared to try to figure out how to draw. So for today’s study it were noses!

Nose Study 1

I started off with a nose position that was more comfortable with so I can get into the groove of things! The colour seems off to me but I focused more of the structure and getting the sketch good as a starting point. I was feeling a bit confident so I decided to work on another nose study but from a different angle.

Nose Study 2

I struggled on the angle for a while drawing the sketching. I realised for now as a beginner I need to keep looking at references and not just depend on my hunch because I have no references in my head on how to draw noses from the mind so I will continue to use references for now.

Overall I felt happy with both nose studies and tomorrow I will go back and learn Human Anatomy and make a proper schedule for myself!

הֱיה שלום

[mrs-hollandstan]

Hey Brooke! It's been a long time I follow your blog but I never requested you anything. I was wondering if you could write smth for me w mob!Tom where reader's car starts catching fire bc of some sabotage and it ends up exploding what make Tom freak the hell out, but what he doesn't know is that she got to jump out of the car before it could explode? They didn't find her because she fell out of the road and she's hurt but she manages to call Tom? I'm so sorry it's long. I love your writing. xx

Ughhh this is angsty

A horrid clicking is what drew your attention. From beneath your radio. You understood what it meant from a number of films and the fact that your boyfriend was someone everyone in his business wanted dead. Or in pain. The latter was the goal this time around. You knew whoever it was would find you if you stopped at the side of the road and climbed out, so you gathered your things carefully, clutching them to your chest as the ticking grew louder and more frequent. It was now or never. The clicking stops just before you're jumping from the car, the force of the explosion propelling you down the side of the hill, dropping you into a small stream of water running down the mountain and in between the hills. You can feel the bumps and bruises, prompting you to lay in the little crevice a moment longer. 

Tom heard about the explosion. It was a car heading from his house and you hadn't gotten back to him. He'd paced until one of his men had come in and confirmed that the car had been yours. But they weren't sure if you were inside, 

"I'm going down to find her." Tom says, running a hand through his hair, 

"Tom-" 

"No… she wouldn't not call a-and if you're not sure there's a body she could be around there and I need to know and-"

"Boss-"

"Either one of you drives me or I'll drive myself." He growls in the face of one of his men. The darkness in his eyes draws Harrison into moving,

"I got it. C'mon Tom." He directs Tom towards the garages, hopping into one of the many SUV's,

"They wanted me. That's what they wanted. They want to get to me and she got caught up in it. Fuck! If she's dead it's my fault."

"Mate you couldn't have known they'd take her or try and kill her." 

"I did though. She's always at risk with me." Tom says leaning on his hand, elbow leaned on the windowsill. He sighs, 

"I don't even know what I'm gonna do if they got her. If they recover a body from that car I'll fucking snap." He tells his best friend who's always been able to calm him down. Tom closes his eyes, almost enough to be distracted when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He fishes it out haphazardly, as Harrison watches, and slides over on your picture, pressing the phone to his ear, 

"Baby… baby where are you?" 

"I'm okay. I uhm, I-I'm in this like little ravine thing right where the fire happened. I- I thought I was okay but I think my leg is sprained or broken. But I'm afraid they're going to find me." Tom points ahead and Harrison steps on the gas, speeding to the scene. Tom stays on the phone with you the entire way there, crying when you do and bolting from the car once Harrison brings it to a stop, 

"Tom!" He ignores his best friend's cries, skidding down the hillside and calling your name. He can hear you call back, and all Harrison can think about is how he doesn't think that Tom has ever dirtied his shoes like this. The things he'd do for you. You sit up finally from your place in the little groove you'd found, wrapping your arms around Tom when he crouches above you. He holds your body to his, 

"I'm never letting you go." He promises. You sob against his chest before Harrison comes barreling down the way, wild eyes locked on the two of you, 

"You okay babe?" He asks. You nod, holding a hand out for him. He takes it and he and Tom hoist you up, an arm draped over their shoulders as they escort you back to the SUV. Tom slides in the back with you, clinging to you as Harrison drives you back towards home. You hold his suit jacket, listening to him whisper how sorry he is. You glance up, Tom smoothing your hair down and rubbing his thumb across a dash of soot on your cheek. He kisses your forehead, 

"I don't blame you. I'm grateful to have someone like you." You reassure softly. He stares down into your eyes, leaning in to kiss your busted lip softly. Laying your head against his shoulder, he keeps his arms wrapped around you firmly. And in that moment, you genuinely believe that he would never let you go. 

[pandoras-princess]

Next Best Thing (Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader) 18+

*gif not mine//credit to owner

A/N: Hello my lovely peopless! 🌸 I have had the worst writer’s block and honestly it felt like this part was going to go on forever. But we’re here and we’re over it 🤗 I’m actually quite proud of how this one turned out despite everything so I shall keep it short and sweet but I will say please please read part one before you read this if you haven’t already, this part won’t make sense otherwise but that’s it for the nagging I swear 😚 sooo without further adieu I give you part two 😁😁 Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳🥳 as ever I appreciate every like, reblog and follow, feedback is always welcome 😌

Summary: It’s been half a year and you’ve settled quite nicely into your job at the Garrison, as well as all the perks that come with it. Your relationship with Tommy takes an unexpected turn, igniting a fire within John he hadn’t known was simmering...

Pairing: (OOC) Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, explicit mentions of sex, smoking

PART ONE PART THREE PART FOUR

━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━

It’s been 6 months since your first shift at the Garrison, and running the bar isn’t the only thing you've settled into.

After spending the night together in his office, you and Tommy came to a mutually beneficial arrangement. You provide him with some much needed stress release, in return he provides you with the love and adoration you so desperately crave, even if only for the brief moments spent in your bed.

As the intimate meetings became more and more frequent, there was still no doubt in your mind that you were little more than a functional lay to the man.

Truthfully, you were anything but functional because with every encounter Tom could feel his heart falling for you.

At first, it was how you'd light a cigarette for him right after sex, plucking the stick from your lips to tuck it between his before you lit your own; it was the way your wild curls would encompass your face like a halo at even the smallest tilt of your head; it was the way you could handle any rowdy punter at the bar with a few choice words and a look that could put even the hardest man in his place. And now? Now, it was absolutely everything about you. Tom found his head clouded with thoughts of you constantly, the only relief taken from being in your presence.

What started out as a bit of harmless fun, had now become a nightly occurence.

Tonight being no exception, you skillfully roll over him, careful not to place any unwanted weight on delicate body parts. Tom pulls on his cigarette, inhaling the harsh smoke as he admires the after-sex glow radiating off your naked form. The only marrs on your skin were the hickeys he made in an eager bid to claim you as his own.

You set about gathering your clothes, unaware of the adoration swimming in the blue irises behind.

“What're you doing?”

“I’m getting ready to leave” you chime, now all too accustomed to the usual routine of sex and a quick smoke before walking home or sneaking Tom out.

Returning to the bed in hopes of retrieving your underwear, Tommy’s large hand wraps around your thigh holding you in place, and any thoughts of the discarded fabric are dashed.

“Stay.”

It was not a question but a statement, the silent pleading in his eyes a far too familiar feeling of your own.

“Are you sure? Because I distinctly remember you sayi-”

“I know what I said, that's not what I want anymore” he interrupts, perfectly aware of the words about to be repeated back to him.

Straddling his waist, his hands come to rest on your hips, thumbs drawing invisible circles on the soft skin beneath as your hands trail mindlessly along his toned chest, goosebumps appearing in their wake.  

“What do you want then?” The question comes out breathily, and your heart pounds against your ribcage at such an intensity you were sure it was audible.

“I wan’t you, Y/N.”

There it was. The words you’d been waiting to hear for what felt like an eternity.

You ignore the niggling voice in the back of your mind; the voice reminding you that this decleration of- of- whatever it is, was coming from the mouth of the wrong Shelby brother.

“Is that so, Mr Shelby?”

Tommy is cast back to the very first time you’d given yourself to him - bent over his desk and shamelessly moaning his name as he pounded you with such force he worried the aged wood might just give out from under you - and he remembers just why he’d had this change of heart in the first place.

You were perfect. Plain and simple.

Of course you had your quirks, everyone did. But try as he might he couldn’t find a single one that put him off. The more time spent together the more he was convinced God had crafted you entirely for his sake.

“Yes Y/N that is so.” Tommy’s fingers connect with your waist and your angelic giggles fill the air, the smile tracing his lips deepening.

Flipping over so that his body is snug between your legs, he continues his relentless tickle attack, relishing the feel of your body squirming underneath him as you desperately try to get away.

“To-tommy sto-stop tickling me!”

Your dainty hands barely manage to prise one hand from your waist before the other reconnects, rendering your muscles useless as you collapse into laughter.

“O-okay you win! I’m yo-yours, all yours!”

“Ah the magic words.”

Opening your eyes, you’re met with Tommy’s beautiful face beaming down at you, having obviously accomplished his mission. Draping your slender arms around his neck, you pull him into a kiss and his hands roam your body, tracing along each and every curve before settling for burying in your curls.

For the first time in six months, you and Tommy made love. Well, the first and second time, to be exact.

Hours later and Tommy is peeling his body off of yours, lungs begging for oxygen as the fragments of your mind recollect themselves - the ecstasy of your orgasms positively mind blowing.

“Tommy?”

“Mm?”

“Do you mind if we, um, maybe wait before telling everyone. I just don’t fancy them sticking their oar in, m’ really quite content just us” you muse, shifting into place beside him. Your touch dances along his collarbones, exploring every groove and crevice on its travels to his jawline.

Eyes closed, a lop-sided grin gracing those oh so plump lips. Silky brown waves marvellously tousled from hours of your fingers raking through them.

The man truly was a work of art.

Tommy hums softly in response, one lid opening to peer down at you before capturing your hand in his, lightly pecking each of your fingers along the way.

“Anything for you, Princess.”

With the ghost of his soft lips lingering, your focus shifts to the rhythmic beating of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the ever so slight twitch of his fingers. And so, wrapped securely in the arms of tender loving care, you drift off to sleep.

The next morning your small figure is weaving throughout the back streets of Small Heath, now an expert on the roads less traveled by Peaky Blinders and Co.

With blood pounding in your ear drums and your heart thuddering in your chest, you sneak through the creaky door making a beeline for the stairs.

“Where’ve you been?”

You reluctantly enter the kitchen, finding Polly at the breakfast table with a cup of tea to her left, an ashtray to her right and a heap of papers inbetween.

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“No where.”

“That hickey on your neck says otherwise” she smirks, finally raising her head to look at you.

Your hand pointlessly rushes to cover the purple bruise darkening by the minute on your jugular. “Shit!”

“So how is Tommy?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said how is Tommy?” Polly repeats the question, panic creeping up your throat like bile.

“You mean... you know?”

“You didn’t really think I wouldn’t notice my own nephew sneaking in and out of this house every night. Give me some credit” she quips. “Don’t worry your little secret is safe with me.”

The parilysing fear immediately dissolves and you plunk yourself down at the table, a dreamy sigh leaving your mouth as you lay your head to rest in your palms.

“Oh Pol, it’s wonderful! He’s so- so-”

“Please, spare me the details.”

“-so perfect!”

“Y/N, he’s Tommy Shelby - perfect isn’t a word within that man’s description.”

“Well it is in mine” you mumble.

“Anyway since you’re here you can help me. We’re having a gathering tonight and I want everyone here so I need you to go and tell them. In the lounge, 6pm sharp.”

“Fine” you huff, rising from the table.

“Oh and Y/N, make sure you cover that thing up before you see John, we don’t need any more murders around here.”

Red hot flames lick at your cheeks and Polly’s lips stretch into a smirk once again, chuckling to herself as she returns to the paperwork before her.

By 6 o’clock all members of the Shelby clan are slowly trickling into the lounge. Tommy and yourself are the first to arrive and he immediately chooses the right corner seat, guiding your body into the empty space beside him.

“Alright Pol” Tom greets his aunt not bothering to make eye contact as he notices a stray curl fall into your eyes, gently tucking it back in it’s rightful place before leaving a quick kiss on your temple.

Polly’s eyes twinkle with amusement as she hands you both a whiskey.

“You’ll want to be a bit more discreet than that when the others turn up.”

“Yes thank you Pol” Tom replies sarcastically as you direct your attention to ridding your jumper of non-existent fluff.

“Alright Polly.”

Your head snaps to the source of the gruff voice, butterflies fluttering against the confines of your ribcage as you lock eyes with John.

“Ye alright love” he plants a kiss on the top of your head before collapsing into the free corner of the sofa.

John was a man of few words, those that didn’t know him might even say simple. But when it came to you, the unspoken language of Jonathon Shelby was one of the few you could speak, thus giving rise to the overly affectionate nature of your relationship.

If this was a few years ago - before Esme, before Tommy, before that tart in the back alley, when everything was right with the world - you’d be tucked up next to John, curled into his side with a strong arm wrapped firmly around your waist. His fingers would absentmindedly trail along your skin, a private joke or snarky comment whispered into your ear every now and then. And when he laughed, oh god when he laughed, each muscle would flex around you drawing you in closer, forcing every fibre of your being to fight the urge to kiss him.

But this was not a few years ago and things had changed, the harsh truth slapping you in the face like a wet fish as you catch sight of Esme trawling into the lounge; each butterfly erupting into a tiny globe of fire as she settles herself between you and John.

How beautifully ironic you thought, shifting yourself closer to Tommy.

Eventually Ada and Arthur arrive and the night rolls on. The whiskey burns through your veins, blending with your blood on its way straight to your head. With a fair amount of Dutch courage under your belt your body was craving the intimacy it was used to on a night like this. So taking your chances you snuggle into Tommy, allowing yourself to relax when you feel his arm instinctively snaking around you.

The action - which could easily be passed off as a caring moment between two friends - hadn’t gone unnoticed, and every muscle under John’s control seized up at the sight.

More stories poured out, along with many more drinks - you’d half a mind to suspect Polly was purposely fueling you with alcohol - and the more brazen you become, your legs now laying over Tommy’s with his left hand resting comfortably on your thighs.

You gently tap on the waistband of his suit trousers, and hope that Tommy understands your silent request. The movement was much too slight to draw any attention and he brings his left hand to scratch an itch that wasn’t there, before casually placing it over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze when he’s sure nobody has noticed.

He forgot, however, that Ada was positioned with a clear viewpoint of the loving act, sitting smugly on the arm next to him as she put two and two together. She thought the pair of you had been awfully happy lately, much too happy for it to be coincidental.

As everyone focused their attention on Polly and her latest crazy tale, John’s jaw clenched and unclenched for the hundredth time, the muscle aching under the constant tension. He sat on the other side of the sofa, soundlessly raging as he thought over the countless nights you’d been draped over him like that, whispering and giggling, eyes glistening with mischief as he shared another secret joke with you. Now here you were, draped over his brother, whispering and giggling as your eyes glistened with what he hoped was the large amount of whiskey you’d ingested, and not the same mischief you once shared with him.

Esme attempted to replicate your position, and she was met with John’s hand roughly pushing her aside. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He wasn’t even sure why he couldn’t take it - it’s not as if you’d ever be stupid enough to fall for his brother’s plan.

“Tommy stop!” you giggle, brushing his hand from your curls as he pretends to mess them up.

That was enough. “C’mon Es we’re going.”

Your laughter dies down as you look up at John, his blue orbs cold and hard as they stare back at you.

For once, you couldn’t place the unvoiced emotion set on his face. For once, you couldn’t read the man you once considered your best friend.

[raeathnos]

Hey, I’m raeathnos, but I go by Sky-Shifter elsewhere on the internet!

I’m an artist who likes to draw dragons, other fantasy creatures, tropical beaches, and space themed art. Some examples of my work, and links you can find me at below:

Deviantart: deviantart.com/sky-shifter/

Instagram: instagram.com/sky-shifter/

Twitter: Twitter.com/Sky_Shifter

Bsky: https://bsky.app/profile/sky-shifter.bsky.social

Tumblr: sky-shifter.tumblr.com

Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/skyshifter

Slowly getting back into the groove of creating art and I’ll hopefully have new stuff to post soon-ish! I also sell adopts and take commissions (currently closed) if that’s anyone’s fancy, if you’re interested in helping a struggling artist out.

——————————————-

No art here! This is just my personal blog. I don’t have much of a theme going on, I just tend to randomly reblog things. Things you’ll see a little more frequently include Bionicle, anime/manga, witchcraft/paganism, and vulture culture. I’m meme/vine/tiktok trash, I’m sorry.

Current fandom kick: back on my Bionicle bullshit >:D (Trying to do chaos control; mostly reblogging/posting about it on @kolhii-head-chronicler which is my bonkle side blog. Good posts escape containment and end up here still though.) Also Hazbin Hotel; I love me a story about everyone deserving a second chance.

I also have several blorbos rotating in my mind that I am very normal about: Vakama (Bionicle), Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Guzma (Pokemon), and Moordryd (DragonBooster). Expect to see these assholes (affectionate) frequently.

I’m weak for the found family + villain turning good troupes, if you didn’t figure that out from above :P

I also use this blog to vent a lot, but vent posts will always just be a ‘ . ‘ with the actual vent in the tags. I also disappear periodically due to ✨health issues✨ Don’t worry if I’m not around for a bit, I’ll be back eventually.

Ya girl identifies as a demigirl/nonbinary! Pronouns are she/they, thank you!

Antis, puriteens, terfs, and those with far right ideologies will be blocked. I’m not here to debate, I’m just here to vibe. ✌🏻

[paper--machete]

ok yeah now that im looking at this realistically theres probably not gonna be much proper art for a while bc im trying to focus more on other stuff in my life and because of that i’m drawing less frequently so in order to get myself back into that groove i need to be able to work drawing back into my regular habits (which i currently don’t have room for since i am trying to adopt several new habits at once)

[lesbian-bird-talks]

✨ Headcanon Requests: CLOSED

✨ Drabble Requests: CLOSED

✨ Doodle Requests: OPEN

꒰♡꒱・Should be obvious but no discrimination of any kind.

꒰♡꒱・My blog is 16+! I tend to make suggestive jokes and curse a lot. For the most part I'll keep it SFW, but if you're 15 or below DNI.

꒰♡꒱・Please do not DM me randomly, it makes me anxious! If you wanna talk in DMs then I'd appreciate if you could send me an ask to lmk what you wanted beforehand.

꒰♡꒱・No incest or sexual requests! Yes the Kagamines are included in incest.

꒰♡꒱・No suggestive requests with minors!

꒰♡꒱・No age gap relationship requests!

꒰♡꒱・No dating POV requests! These aren't otome games I don't wanna write or draw Kaito comforting you after a bad day.

꒰♡꒱・"What they're like in a relationship" and requests focused on the character are OK!

꒰♡꒱・Headcanons about a ship are OK given it doesn't violate the other rules!

꒰♡꒱・UTAU and non-vocaloid synths are OK!

꒰♡꒱・My DNI list is long and I'm lazy, you'll know if you get blocked.

꒰♡꒱・Ultimately I will cherry pick whichever requests I think are fun, it's my blog I'll do whatever the hell I please >:]

CEO of Girl Kissing Enterprises, I come to you through your screen to deliver self-indulgent content and further feed my hyperfixations. You can call me either Milo or Pidge!

I'm from the southern US and I have a real love for vocaloid, as,,,should be apparent tbh. There's a reason I'm deciding to make my blog centered around it.

I was gonna do just anime content but then I forgot due to school, which I will be starting back up on soon despite dreading the idea of going back <3

But making my friends suffer through my hyperfixations isn't enough. I need MORE. So here I am, in all of my attention whore glory. I'll try to post often! I won't be forcing myself, cuz that's how I lose interest, but I'll post when my brain juice spills onto my keyboard and oops I got a comic drawn. wOAH that song just got posted all on its own????

Requests will open when I feel like I've gotten in the groove of blog running things. Checking my ask box frequently, shit posting, actually making content. You know that sorta thing :)

In addition to Tumblr, you can also find me on Twitch and Twitter. These are accounts for my VTubing shit tho.

Also half this blog might just end up being my cat I really fucking love my cat here's a picture of my cat.

((here for later don't mind the empty))

Tags

・#milostfu - for asks + me when I'm yammerin'

・#milosmusic - music and playlists!

・#lesbianbirddraws - all the doodles

・#lesbianbirdwrites - all the drabbles

・#lesbianbirdthinks - all the headcanons

Doodles

These can range from 5 minute finger-doodles to short comics to full illustrations, but all doodle requests will be cleaned sketches.

・2021 Expo Fanart

・Eleanor Redesign

・x

Drabbles

These are all works of writing, and unless I decide to write a fic in my free-time these will all be fairly short. I won't write for every character tho!

・x

Headcanons

There aren't any character I'm aware of that I would be uncomfortable writing headcanons for, so ask away! Note that some will def be more shallow than others, but I'll do research if it's a synth I'm unfamiliar with dw <3

・How They Livin' Ft. ZOLA project

・x

[blueberrypossum]

Seeing the Opposing Side 

Dastardly Danny x female cop!reader

Hey guys! @greaser-wolf and I are back at it again with trading ideas and our ocs and such. I wasn't going to post this but she wanted everyone to see the story (so heckin nice I swear). For the confusion, shiki is @greaser-wolf oc that is a yokai fire pig cop that has a complicated love story with dastardly Danny, please check out her blog for amazing drawings of her and Danny! Hope you guys guys enjoy!!

⚠️WARNING ⚠️: There will be inappropriate language and themes in this! Along with graphic scenes such as blood and wounds!

Word Bank:

Carrying a torch- Having a crush on someone/ being by someone’s side 

“I won’t let you down, chief.”

Your hands trembled as you took the criminal file your boss handed you, adrenaline rushed through you like a fever as he walked away and you sat back down at your desk. 

The police stations hummed with warm life as you got comfortable in your chair, the only loud sounds that advanced the quiet talk of the officers was the phone calls and the occasional scream from a prisoner.

This was your first case on your own without the other idiot cops that you were placed under, as your boss stated, “you need someone to guide you before you go out on your own,” and then the griffin and the gorilla that was teaching you let out the bloody Mud Dogz on your first day of training. 

Oh that day was awful and you hated reliving the memory inside your head.

Your hooves pulled the file open as you took a sip of coffee, the hot liquid almost spilling over your desk as you read who you were going after. 

“The bloody Mud Dogz?!”

The few yokai beside you looked over and you tried to shrink into your seat, your hooves clinching the mugshots of each Mud Dog. Of course, of fucking course it had to be them, it had to be him!

 Your hooves bent against the picture of Dastardly Danny, the wicked smile he held in the photo gave you shivers down your spine. You’ve had a run in with him a few times, along with watching them leave the prison due to every cop in here not having a single brain cell. Your hands still ached from the cleaning duty you had to do after that.

But not anymore, you were a real cop, and you were going to prove it.

Your eyes strolled through the basic info of him, his age, height, the crimes he has done along with his group. From all the ones you’ve read, Danny’s looked innocent against them. 

In all honesty, The Mud Dogz didn’t really do bad things. They never harmed anyone and they only stole from those who weren’t poor, it was mostly rich people who would call saying they were robbed by them. Of course they would rob places like this, and worked with other crime lords of the Hidden City.

You took another sip from your coffee as you read the last known sighting of him: The Mystic Train Station. You got your gear ready for the long road ahead, with the train station being half way across the city. You strapped your laser gun against your belt and a few portable traps, along with your phone and your badge and headed towards the exit, the other larger and stronger guards almost pushing past you as if you were still an errand runner.

For months you had been one, getting the coffee, getting the files, copying paperwork and not once going out on the field. 

Not a single cop in here believed in you, yokai’s that were as small as you were known to be weak, to be on the backburner without a choice, but that didn’t matter to you. What mattered to you was that the Mud Dogz were going down, no matter the cost.

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

You made it to the train station, the underground building poured with life as citizens dove in and out of the train at rapid speed. Security guards were posted around almost every entrance of the metal hole dug in the ground, the dark and damp station was only lit by a few hanging lights and the lights that were inside of the train. One of the many trains came to a screeching halt as you strolled past the other security guards as your eyes examined the area; The Mud Dogz usually wore their signature colors of blue, purple, and orange. You pulled your denim jacket closer to hide yourself from the chilly breeze that drifted into the area. You decided to change before you left your apartment since your cop outfit would attract too much attention, especially since you were on a manhunt. 

The sighting that was described in the file was that the ogre and the rat were spotted here taking the train, the destination they went to was unknown but it seemed they used this way of travel frequently. You took a sip of your second cup of coffee, the heat that steamed out of it warmed your lips in the chilly fall weather. With how many yokai stormed through the area, you didn’t know if you should make a scene or not when you found your target, there were innocent people here and you didn’t want any casualties. Maybe you could find them and sneak your way over to-

Your body slammed into someone else, your back firmly landing against someone’s lower shoulder. A small gasp broke through your mouth as you tried to make sure your drink didn’t spill on you or the yokai you apparently backed into. The stranger’s arms held you firm as they helped you regain your balance. 

“Ah! I’m so sorry! I guess I should be looking at where I am going!” You scrambled out, your face growing red with embarrassment.

“No problem at all, doll. It was nothing more than a scuffle.”

Wait a damn minute.

You swiftly turned around and felt the grip on your beverage tighten as you were face to face with Dastardly Danny, a smug smile curled on his face as his tall frame overshadowed you, his long tail swayed back and forth as if he saw the dots connect in your head. 

You felt your eyebrows raise with shock and then they buried down into your eyes in irritation, your right hand hovering over your laser pistol. 

“Dastardly Danny, you are under arrest! I order for you to come quietly and willingly, or else there will be trouble.”

“Daw, I don’t even get a please, toots?”

“Officers don’t ask.”

“And criminals don’t play dirty.”

He was in your face now, his whiskers close enough to tickle your snout, a smirk navigated his face as his tail wrapped around you and then spun you around, his body easily getting past you and onto one of the multiple paths that led deeper into the train station, his thin figure blending into the crowd as they followed. Once you regained your balance, you threw the drink away and chased after him, your body pushing past the other yokai as the hunt began. 

Your feet stomped against the cemented ground, your eyes caught on the only thing that was unique about Danny against the other yokai: his torn ear that peaked out of his hat. You didn’t pull out your gun though, you couldn’t or else it would freak out the civilians and cause a massive wave of chaos. You couldn’t lose him now, not when he was this close. 

Danny came to a stop as he was face to face with an escalator, his lean body easily going in the middle and slid down the metal slope, his feet landing perfectly as you reached the moving stairs. 

You let out a frustrated grunt and stormed down the stairs, pushing past the civilians as you lost Danny into the several batches of animals. 

Come on! Come on, think Shiki! Think! 

You then leapt up onto the edge of a fountain and scanned the open room, your head darting back and forth as you tried to find the coffee-colored rat.

Hey! Watch it!”

Your head turned to see the criminal rat run into a bigger yokai, the rat politely taking his hat off as he ran by and you hopped off the ledge of the fountain. 

“Dastardly Danny! Get back here!”

“Not a chance, sweetheart! I appreciate your persistence though!” 

His hairless tail was in your sight now, your trained body easily gaining momentum to catch up to him. But the rat knew he was being hunted and he soon started to switch up his walking pattern, his stride crossing in-between different animals and going behind a few pillars that held up the structure. 

While Danny was taller than most normal yokai and they moved when they saw him barreling towards them,  you would almost be run over by the horde of animals that walked past you, almost as if you were the obstacle instead of them.  

Maybe I should’ve worn my uniform. 

“Excuse me! Pardon me! Coming through!”

You shoved past a bear yokai as Danny got onboard the train, his rat tail flicking from side to side as the door closed behind him. You came to a tight halt at the glass door, your enclosed hand hitting against the window, your breaths coming out ragged and sweat was dripping down your brow, but Danny’s composer was calm and his chest barely rose as his arm bent and leaned against the door. 

His eyes lazily looked down at you through the glass, his breath creating a grey shadow over the clear frame and his claws wrote the words “Nice try” in the window as the train started to build up for take off. You desperately looked for a way in, but once the doors were closed there was no way to get in. The railroad blueprint printed itself into your mind and you calculated how far each stop and the different intersections of railroads. 

As the train easily started to make its way down the tunnel, you kept your eyes locked onto Danny’s. His murky eyes traveled up and down your body, as if he was trying to see what you would do next, his hands now going in his pockets and his shoulders shrugged, as if you had lost. But you sent your own sly grin to him as you ducked by the nearest yokai and headed straight for the construction site on the left, the yellow police tape tearing under your hands as you raced through the darkness. 

Your hooves worked against each other until a small flicker of fire grew in your hands, the only sound you could hear was the vibration of the trains grooving throughout the under tunnel system and your heart pulsing in your short ears. You jumped over a bridge that was barely built, your short yet strong legs carried you easily over it, your ears flicking back and forth as you tried to listen for the train. You continued your jog through the inky cave, leftover construction hats and equipment littered the ground as you came to a huge opening to a narrow path, below you was one of the railroad tracks. 

The wind that blasted through the hollowed tunnel blew out the flame that boiled in your hands. 

“Ugh! Come on!”

You kept snapping the edge of your hooves until another dash of life blossomed in your hand and you could take in your surroundings once more. The ground beneath you started to rumble and you bent down to watch as the headlights of the train started to enter the thin subway and then the metal car went flying by you, the roar of the train whistle blistered into your eardrums and you used your free hand to cover up one ear. Your jacket flew around you and you turned on your heel to get a running start. 

You let out a shaky breath as you extinguished the light from your hand and the only thing lightning up your path was the spotty fragments of the train cars.  And you sprinted across the dirt road and then leapt onto the top of the metal animal, your hooves clinging into the scrap as the wind sped into your exposed ears. Your hand felt around for the hatch and your fingers gripped around it and you rose up on the train to pull the hole open. The air from your lungs was being sucked out of you as you pushed every muscle in your body to open it and the metal hatch let out a low hiss as it was popped open. 

You dove in and pulled the hatch with you and everything was black. 

Through the darkness, you could make out the forms of boxes and supplies and you figured you were in one of the supplies carts. You took in a few breaths of air as the adrenaline and the caffeine rocked in your veins and your heart felt like it was dancing throughout your body. You grew another flare of fire in your hand as you made your way forward and to the door that would lead you to the next carriage. You hoped in-between the carts until you got to one that was full of yokai, your light instantly going out as you shoved past the different animals, your mind counting the carts until you got to the one that the rat was on. 

Your eyes narrowed into slits as you prowled the train car, the different species of animals barely even noticing you as you tried to find the plum colored outfit that shouldn’t blend this easily in the row of dull colors. And then you saw it, his tail barely peeking over behind someone. You hid within the shadows casted by the passengers and the purple-wearing rat was in your sight. Your hooves gripped around the pistol and pulled it out, the barrel of it digging into his back.

"Did you really think you could get away from me that easily?” You asked, the stiffness in his posture brought pleasure to your heart. 

Danny looked at you through the reflection of the glass, your red shirt and jacket were scruffed up and the once holeless jeans now had a horizontal tear across your knee. The few tufts of hair that was on your head were whipped lashed and the fur on your face was tangled within themselves. But you were steady on your feet and the gun that dug into his back was handled in a tamed manner. 

You were surely different than the police officers he usually had to deal with. 

“Me? Wanting to get away from you? Never,” he purred to your reflection and you squint your eyes at him. You push yourself in front of him, the gun now lowered to your thigh but still pointing towards him. 

“Now, you listen to me, darling,” you whispered to him, your voice joking around the word darling. “When we get off this train, I am putting your hands in cuffs and taking you to jail. Got it?”

Danny crossed his arms over his chest, “I don’t even get a five-second headstart?”

“You didn’t give me one.”

“Touche.”

You felt skin under your fur relax and you leaned against the pole across from him, the bronzed tunnel foggy behind you as the atmosphere between you two went heavy and silent. 

 “How did ya get on here, anyway?”

You looked at your reflection in the window and how much of a wreck you looked like and you used your free hand to untangle the clumps of fur. 

“Oh, I just intersected the railroad and then hop on,” you said nonclonently, your fingers combing through your short hair and then turned to see the rat yokai staring wide-eyed at you, one singular eyebrow raised. 

“What?”

“You jumped onto this train?”

“Yes?”

“Wow, what a woman you are.”

A pretty blush pranced against your face and you instantly turned away, hoping that your chocolate-colored fur would hide the redness. You were used to men joking to you, you knew the slang in their voice when they did it. But Danny didn’t have that, he never had that when you talked to you. 

Why was he always polite to you? Most criminals would be hollering curse words like there is no tomorrow.

You remembered one of the multiple lessons in your college class for becoming an officer. A lawbreaker will try to persuade you or flirt with you to find a way of getting out of being arrested. Still, it felt good for someone to compliment you on your hard work for once. 

Your father’s image splattered in your hand and for a split second you closed your eyes, pushing the brooding memory out of your head. You opened your eyes to find Danny watching you, his eyes studying you as you came back to your surroundings. 

He has no control over you anymore, Shiki, get over it. No one controls you.

“You remind me of my father.”

“Why thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment, Dastardly.”

“Is that why you’re trying so hard to get me?”

Maybe. Maybe I just want to be told I did something right for once.

You both arrived at the new station, the sigh overhead in the train cart you were in said that you were near the Battle Nexus and the Crying Titan. As the horde of animals shoved past you, you made sure to keep your gun up against Danny’s back as you led him out of the train and away from wandering eyes. Once behind of the pillars you cuffed him, the irritating ring of the metal cuffs caused both of your ears to twitch. 

“No running? No cursing?” You asked, your hands gripping the cuffs behind his back. The tall rat gave a shrug.

“I know when I’ve been bested, and how can I be mad if it's from you?” You pushed him forward and he let out a light chuckle as you presented him to the citizens of the Hidden City.

And the way the public stared and how some families scooted their children away was a confidence boost you needed as you shoved him along, his small grunts barely reached you as you took him up and through the train station until you both made it to the exit. 

It was nighttime when you both made it out of the train station, the already once dark city was now pitch-black, the hanging lights looking like fallen stars. The buzz of life was barely a whisper as stores started to close and the awakening of nightclubs replaced it.

You could see your breath dance in front of you as you continued to force Danny onward, the yokai’s who boarded with you were now heading back to your homes. You thought about calling backup and didn’t have to endure the long walk ahead, but you didn’t want to disturb the station, along with you didn’t anyone take this credit. 

It was silent between you two, and whenever you would almost trip on Danny's tail he would look back with a shit-eating grin. 

Why did you find criminals handsome? Of course the one trait you got from your mother was similar attraction.

“Down here, this alleyway will get us to the station faster,” you ordered, your grip on him forcing him to turn down one of the ghastly alleyways, the bricks covered in graffiti and grime.

“If you just wanted to be alone with me, all you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” Danny chuckled, the desire in his voice almost made you stop in your tracks, but then you stepped right on his tail as payback. 

“Whoops,” you snickered, a smile playing on your lips as you saw his painful expression.  

“Wowza! I’m guessin’ that cops play dirty as well?” He breathed out, his tail swishing back and forth to forget about the pain.

You then came to a full stop, your ears twitching as you finally took in your surroundings. You were used to the silence of the dead part of town, but this was too quiet, as if the animals of the city were in hiding. You looked around the enclosed space you were and then started to hurry the rat ahead. 

“Whoa what’s with the hussle, toots?”

“Something isn’t right, we need to get out of here. Now.”

And then you saw the pair of glowing eyes down the pathway, the blue orbs blinking and the pupils flipping into thin lines as the creature spotted you and Danny. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the famous Dastardly Danny,” the voice purred, and a large white tiger walked out of the overshadow, his thin tail curling against his back. 

“Been a long time old friend.”

Danny let out a groan and a small ‘tch’ under his breath. 

“Good to see ya again, Liam, how's the business doing?”

“It was doing brilliant until you and that ridiculous group of yours ruined it.”

You looked up at Danny and then back at the tiger yokai, your hand pulling out your laser gun and aiming it at the white tiger known as Liam. 

“You are interjecting with official business, walk away or I will shoot,” you stated, and then two more yokai joined Liam behind him. You felt your eyes grow wide with fear as a wildebeest yokai and a fox yokai fell into line with their boss, their claws and hooves shined in the dimly lit alleyway. 

Did bad luck just run in my family?

You slowly backed up, your hand clutched over the middle of the handcuffs and you tried to focus in on the scruff noise Danny’s shoes made instead of the peering eyes that looked at like you were a meal. 

“Officer, if you run now, we won’t bother you. We just want Danny,” Liam said, a large paw went over his chest where his heart was placed. 

A thousand thoughts charged through your head as you gazed up at Danny, who almost seemed to lean in front of you like a shield. You could give Danny to them, you could try to take all of them down, take Danny with you, let Danny go and both of you run. 

Anger singed through you. This isn’t how this was supposed to go! You were supposed to get the bad guy, bring them to jail, and be the police officer you wanted to be! The cop you needed to be!

You kept good yokai safe, you kept innocent animals alive and took down the villain in the story, but now, as the gun shook on your hands, you took aim and shot at the men as you pushed Danny out of the enclosed space. 

“Go!” You ordered and continued to shoot at the three criminals, the agile yokai’s quickly dodging the hot bullets. One of the bullets landed in the fox’s shoulder and you sprinted towards them to dodge Liam’s attack and then to knee the horned yokai, your foot then came into contact with his stomach as you spun, sending the male henchmen into the bricked wall. You turned to continue to shoot, but a large hand wrapped itself around your throat and gun and pinned you against the rigged wall, the points and curves digging into your back as Liam’s claws dug into your neck.

“Will any of your fellow officers miss you if you were gone? What about your family?” He questioned, his nails broke past your skin and you could feel the warm liquid stain his hand. A yelp escaped your lips and your legs lifted up to kick him, but the fox held you down. 

“Because with how stupid you act, I can’t believe that anyone out there would care about you.”

You didn’t even realize the tears that were falling down your face until your fur went completely damp on your face. 

Your vision started to get blurry and stars started to sparkle at the corner of your eye, and then a loud grunt came from white tiger strangling you and the claws released you. 

You wheezed for air as your body slid down the wall, your eyesight barely coming back as you listened to the violent grunts of fighting. Your hand was still wrapped around your gun, the strain in your hooves started to pinch your nerves.

“Come on, is dat your best hit?”

Danny?! Danny came back to help? He didn’t run? What kind of criminal is he?

As your vision started to clear, you could make out the figures in front of you. Danny was quick on his feet, his body easily dodging the punches and kicks the yokai’s threw to him. But he was losing, the blood that soaked his suit and his nose, along with his hands still being cuffed. Your throat burned but you took aim anyway, shooting the wildebeest in his chest, sending him flying back. 

The three men looked back at you as you rose up, coughs still escaping your mouth as you checked how many rounds you had left.

 The rat was at your side as you both were cornered against the wall, dry coughs still raging out of your mouth as he looked down at you. 

“Y’know, it would be easier to fight if I didn’t have these around me,” he stated, his hands raising up, the metal shackles showed signs of digging into his fur. 

“I already let you go, you’re the one who decided to come back.”

“You’re pop didn’t seem to teach ya manners.”

“Oh my- fine! Fine!”

Before the last two yokai could attack, you took the keys out and unlocked his cuffs, the metal material falling to the ground as Danny rubbed his wrists, a cat-like smile growing into his face.

“Now the fights even.”

Danny picked up the fallen cuffs and curled them into his hand, punching them in Liam’s face as you continued to shoot at the fox yokai, his fast and quick body dodging almost every shot. But his shoulder was weak from the last shot and when he pounced you lifted the butt end of the gun and slammed into his injured shoulder. The orange mammal let out a yelp and your elbow went into his stomach, and then a fist in the face made him flip backward and plant face first into the ground. 

One down, one more to go. 

Danny ducked as the white tiger swiped at him, his claws tearing into the bricks behind him and almost into the rat’s hat. A growl ran its way through your throat and you shot at the tiger, one laser point going into his back, his body rapidly moving away, his icy eyes landing on you. A low snarl rumbled in his neck and he punched Danny down the alleyway, the large crash echoed back towards you as his body and trash cans came in contact. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you continued to shoot at Liam, and then the clicking of an empty slot reflected throughout the area. 

Of course.

The white tiger charged then, knocking the gun out of your hands and you stumbled away, your arms raising up to dodge the hits he threw. But he was a tower compared to you, you had to face guys like him in the academy, but this was your first fight alone. You ducked as another hit came towards you, fear became power as you decided to strike. Your hooves swiped at him, the curve cutting into his cheekbone, and then another one into his stomach. 

Liam let out a roar and his claws went into your leg, the razer-like talons dug into your jeans, quickly breaking past the fabric and into your fur and flesh. A scream raged through you as the nails shredded into your leg muscle and then with a long and antagonizing slowness, he threw you to the side. You could taste the salty blood in your mouth and your leg was feverish and wet, with the loss of air and blood, your vision once agains went blurry. The night was cold against your damp fur, and before you blacked out, all you could think about was your father, and how he was right about you.

You were a failure.

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

You woke you with a start, sweat pouring through your fur as you blinked several times to take in your surroundings. You were on someone’s couch, the black leather under you was worn and old. You took in the apartment around you, the grey walls were dim against you and the area seemed to be clean, seemed.

A hiss of pain passed your teeth and you looked down, your jeans were completely cut off until it was to your wound, which was now bandaged and cleaned. Your neck still burned and it was wrapped as well, the calmly ointment stuck to your fur. A bottle of water and medicine laid next to you on a stool and a blanket was curled around you. 

Where am I? What happened to Liam and Danny?

You tried to lift yourself up, but the pain that blasted from your right thigh brought you right back down. Shouldn’t you be in a hospital, not in someone’s apartment?  Then you heard it, the small chatter of voices in the room next to you and you went for your gun, but it was gone. You checked your whole belt and everything you had packed for this hunt was gone. 

Alright, whoever touched me is done for. 

You looked around and saw the coffee table stuffed with medical gear, ranging from antibiotics and pills. You spotted the scissors that were used to cut your bandages. You lifted yourself up on your elbows and let out a shaky breath and leaned over to the wooden table, the tip of your hooves barely grasping the blade before you completely rolled off the couch. 

A violent grunt came out of your throat and your hand went to your side, the row of bruises under your fur ached against your body. 

The voices went still and the patter of footsteps rushed into the room with you, your free hand going for the scissors and hiding it under yourself. 

You watched with half-closed eyes as four pairs of legs came into view, your head felt hot with fever as someone helped you up and back on the couch. Through the lights of the ceiling you could barely make out the figure that felt against your forehead. 

“How ya doing, doll?”

“Danny?”

The significant details in his face came into view as he smiled down at you, his tall figure no longer in a suit but in a regular t-shirt and pants, a few wraps were around his arms as well. 

“Ohhhhhh, I would have rather been beaten to death,” you groaned as you placed your hands over your eyes, the urge to scream out weighed heavy in your lungs. 

“Well that’s a weird way to say thanks.”

More anger bubbled in your stomach as you recognized Loathsome Leonard’s voice, so that meant the whole Mud Dogz group was here, and that you were in their home. What will your boss think if he finds out? What would he do to you since not only did you let the Mud Dogz get away, but you were wounded and taken to their hideout. Maybe you wouldn’t get to leave, maybe they wanted to get rid of you so you no longer bothered them. 

You opened your eyes with a sigh. 

No, if they wanted you gone, if Danny wanted you gone he would have left you on that street, he wouldn’t have brought you back here, he wouldn’t have bandaged you up…

“Okay, who ripped my jeans?”

A female cat came up from behind the ogre, her thin tail swishing back and forth. 

“Sorry about that. But it was the only way to get to your wound without undressing you. Also I’m the one who stripped you of your weapons, Danny’s orders that no guy touched you,” she said, her eyes going over the medical table, her eyes narrowing. 

You felt a large pressure release from your shoulders that a girl looked at you, even if she was working with other criminals. The cat yokai looked over at Danny and then eyed the table, his eyes following hers. That pressure was replaced with panic as you pushed your back further into the couch, the cold blade digging into your shirt.

“Luckily for you, that leg didn't need stitches. They should heal on their own time with proper care daily. ”

“I know.”

The brown cat raised an eyebrow and walked past you and to the kitchen, her eyes flicking over you as if you prey. 

“Okay, little piglet, then you don’t need my assistance anymore.”

You puffed out a gust of air and placed your hand over your wounded leg and groaned as the long gashes moved under your touch. Leonard and Mickey looked over at Danny and he gave them a curt nod and they followed the feline into the kitchen, their bodies disappearing. The rat was about to follow, but your voice stopped him in his tracks. 

“Why?”

He turned back to look at you, to look at little and weak you. But you held yourself strong up on your elbows once again, the sweat dripping from your eyebrow showed the strength you were using to get yourself up. For a while, Danny just believed that you were just another cop, too dumb to notice and too native to care. But you were persistent, you chased him down with every last tooth and nail you had, you jumped onto a bloody train to catch up to him. 

You were unique. You were stubborn. You fought for what you wanted.

 So, when you left him go to save him from Liam and his gang, he knew he had to come back for you. When Liam sank his claws into you, Danny took him down and carried you back to the Mud Dogz apartment, instantly calling up Leonard’s feline friend to patch you up. 

He knew about the scissors under your back, but he sat on the end of the couch from you, his body relaxed against your paranoid one. 

“Why what?”

“I’ve been chasing after you for months. You know it, and yet, you’re nice to me, you make jokes when your life's on the line. And when you had the chance to run, when you had the chance to get rid of me once and for all; You didn’t. What kind of criminal are you?!”

The rat’s tail twitched and he gently leaned towards you, his eyes interested in the words you were spilling out. You went stiff under his gaze and you fully lifted yourself up, your back now leaning against the armrest of the couch. 

“You said I reminded you of your father, is he a criminal as well?”

You clenched your teeth in your mouth and you crossed your arms over your chest, the blade you sat on now was calling your name to pick up and attack. You were talking to a felon, someone who broke laws and ruined yokai’s lives, but his file came back to your mind. He never stole from the poor, he never hurt anyone, and he reminded you nothing of your father. 

“Yes, but I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

The luminosity of the ceiling lights appeared over you as Danny took in a full look of you. You were pretty, gorgeous even, your dark coffee fur shined brightly in the room, the outline of your fur dusted with gold. He wouldn’t admit that he found your snout and the few tufts of fur on your head cute, nor that he found you attractive, but he would admit that you were unlike anything he had ever known. 

“You seem real conflicted, doll. Something on yer mind?”

You let out a breathless chuckle as you looked up at the light.

“You are so different from what I was taught to go after. My father, other criminals, I’ve watched yokai’s kill for money, I’ve watched families be torn by murder. My father was the same, but you, the Mud Dogz, are not. They don’t teach you that there are different criminals.”

You balled your hands into fists and held the tears that were trying to build back. 

“But I can’t rise to the top without following orders. I can’t get the respect I deserve without taking out the criminals I was trained to hunt for! And since I failed at protecting my mother and siblings from my father, a bloody criminal, I guess I feel like I need to save the city from criminals! But who are even the criminals anymore?! Yokai like you or the ones who step over me like I’m nothing!!”

You were gasping for air now, the blade now in your hands, every muscle in your body pushed against the tip of your hooves as you held it with every fiber of your life.

“That tiger was right, no one sticks around me when things start to fail.”

 You wondered if the other members of the Mud Dogz had heard you, but for once you didn’t care. You were failing, just like he said you would, the years you trained to become better, stronger than most was worth nothing in this moment. 

Danny hadn’t moved a muscle as your panic sizzled over you like an electric wave. The conflict that seemed to control you was something he hadn’t seen from other officers. Most broken animals were because of a missing or abusive parent, and to hear that you had to become the hero for your mother and siblings made more sense with how unbreakable you were, but you were already broken so many times that there was nothing left to break.  

“Do you feel like yer doing that?” Was all he asked. 

“Doing what?”

“Saving people, helping the city?”

You were quiet for a second and you rested your head on your stable knee. 

“….No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m being told to go after men like you, when real criminals are getting away.”

You then flipped the scissors over until the handle faced Danny, the tears gone and a newfound determination in your eyes. Danny gave you a smile and took the blade. Danny felt something in his heart twitch when your hand lightly touched him, the hard crack of your hooves and the softness of your fur. But he ignored it and threw the weapon onto the table

“ I will put you in a prison these days though, Dastardly Danny. I’m the type to not know when to quit.”

“If it’s you, then I’ll be honored.”

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

You woke up the next morning sore and uncomfortable.

After you and Danny had your chat, you were given your weapons back and the feline cat led you out of the apartment blindfolded. You were skeptical at first, but the sheek cat stated that it was that so then the cop standing in front of her wouldn’t know where they lived. It was a few minutes of walking until she untied it from your eyes and gave a wave goodbye after handing your black jacket back. 

“I cleaned it and patched up a few holes in it.”

“Oh! Ah, thank you.”

You wondered if you would see that cat again, but if she hanged out with the Mud Dogz, then you beat every dollar in your bank account that you would. 

You went straight home and fell asleep, and then called off work once you were awoken by your alarm. 

Yet when you called, the pride in your boss’s voice was noticeable.

“Good job with the arrest last night, I’m guessing you’re taking the day off due to injuries?”

Arrest? 

“The arrest?”

“Liam Asad and his gang. They had been terrorizing store workers for weeks now.” 

You then got a notification on your phone and it was a message from one of your colleagues, you opened up the message while your boss mumbled on about it and saw that Liam and his two other goons were tied up out front of the police station, a note with your name on it stuck against the ropes. 

Shiki Chibana.

Your mind jumped back and forth with confusion and you went back to talking to your chief. 

“Anyway, good job again, Miss Cibana, enjoy your day off, you deserve it.” And then he hung up. 

You were still staring at the image of the yokais tied up when your room went silent. The mammals were beaten to hell, the blood stains from either fists or your laser pistol, and the penmanship on the paper wasn’t your handwriting. You recognized it instantly on every Mud Dogz calling card you studied.

You rushed as quickly as you could to get your jacket on, barely even seeing the piece of paper that flew out of it. You limped over to it once you spotted it and picked up the crumbled paper, coffee stains dotted against the sides.

“I’ll be carrying the torch for ya while you believe you’re failing.”

A little heart was curved into the word ya as you read Danny’s handwriting over and over, your hooved thumb brushing over the word torch. 

What did it mean? Danny used so many slanged words that you hardly knew what he was saying half the time. 

He turned Liam in, before you even had the heart-to-heart to him since you had this letter in your jacket pocket. You looked out your studio window and opened it, taking in the crips air and the busy sound of the city below. You continued to reread the letter over and over, your lips unknowingly curling into a shy smile. 

You weren’t afraid to admit when you were wrong, and maybe you were wrong about Danny. Or maybe you were just into bad boys with soft hearts. 

[goulets]

Heartland

Chapter: 3/8 Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Additional Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Colin Wilkes, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, Duke Thomas Rating: T (for now) Case Fic / Kid Fic a03 link

The library has its benefits: no harassment from over-familiar family members, no Dick sexually frustrating him within an inch of his life, and, if he’s willing to be a little sentimental, he kind of does want to show it to the baby. She’s too young to appreciate it, probably, but it stirs something in him to share it with her all the same. He’s heard it’s never too early to get kids into reading - his parents sure as hell never tried, but Jason had read anything he could get his hands on, once he learned how. It had saved him, back then. Maybe it can do the same for her one day.

“Could’ve sworn Bruce had a Dr. Seuss anthology somewhere in here,” he says to her, combing over the shelves with his eyes. “Guess not. You up for something more sophisticated?”

She grunts, squeezing his shirt in her fist. “Alright,” he agrees, pulling Twelfth Night off the shelf. “Shakespeare it is. You’ve got taste, kid.”

***

(dick)

Venice is a nightclub that has gone by many names during its Gotham tenure, and just as many owners. Dick has been undercover here at least twice, back when the club was catering to the wealthier patrons of Little Italy. The current management clearly hasn’t bothered with maintaining that exclusivity - the building is now shabby and outdated, even for this neighborhood. One thing that hasn’t changed, though, is the real draw of Venice, which is the illegal casino in the back rooms beyond the VIP lounge. Through all the club’s owners, the casino has always been run by the Falcones, and always frequented by the city’s most morally flexible elected officials. In the past four nights that Dick’s been staking the place out, he’s seen five judges, two city council members, and even the new police commissioner slipping out the back door into the alley, stinking of gin and cigar smoke and patting their coat pockets with an air of satisfaction. It’s good intel to have, Barbara’s told him. Always helpful to keep the files updated on who’s being bought and by whom. None of that really makes him feel better about the fact that he’s been staking this place out for four nights and still hasn’t managed to pin down their actual target.

It’s embarrassing, is what it is. He’s Nightwing, for God’s sake. He’s taken down whole Russian mobs in Bludhaven, and now he’s being completely eluded by a third-string Falcone no one’s even heard of.

Oracle had ID’d the doer of the Torres/Howard murders in a matter of hours, true to her word, and the ballistics had predictably matched up with a few other murders that the police never bothered investigating. Susanna “Susie” Falcone, a second cousin once removed with a rap sheet that puts many of her relatives to shame. Her name must still have some pull in political circles, because she’s only done time once, in spite of being indicted almost a dozen times. Gotta love good old fashioned judicial corruption, Jason had said. No one had been able to argue, looking at the number of charges dismissed.

All in all, it was supposed to be a fairly simple tag-and-bag. Once they’d found her place of work - officially, the Venice nightclub, unofficially, the family casino - he’d been tasked to track her, question her, and then turn her in to the police. He’d chosen his stakeout perch well, on a hotel roof high above the alley, he’d followed her, unseen, and so far, she’s given him the slip every freaking time. The woman has vanished through every doorway from here to Robinson Park, as only the most enterprising criminal can. Were this a different kind of case, Dick might have been impressed.

Instead, he’s annoyed, and having to compromise - his vantage point is lower, closer but more exposed in the thin shadows of a third story construction platform right above the alley. He can see the door to the club without any difficulty, but the moment he moves, he’ll be open to attack.

He’ll just have to move fast. Fortunately, that’s what he’s best at.

There’s a soft motion behind him, almost quiet enough to escape his notice entirely. It’s Jason - Dick hadn’t expected him to actually turn up. No doubt he’s here to make sure they finally succeed in catching their mark tonight, but he’s been so adamant about not leaving Danielle with anyone except Dick that it’s still a surprise to see him. What’s equally surprising to Dick is that he was apparently hoping Jason would show, if the relief he feels at seeing him is anything to go by.

It’s a nice moment of solidarity, until Jason opens his mouth. “So, fourth night’s a charm, huh?”

Dick bristles. “What happened to not leaving the baby?” he retorts.

Jason bristles back, but doesn’t rise to the bait. It’s a little wrongfooting - a reminder that things are changing between them. Dick is used to the veneer of antagonism that hangs over his relationship with Jason, the unresolved tension they both pretend not to notice. They’d gotten into a pretty good groove when he was acting as Batman, staying out of each others’ way for the most part, and working together when necessary. Dick’s pretty sure Jason doesn’t actually harbor any murderous feelings towards him, just like he doesn’t actually hate Bruce, no matter what he says.

“The girls and Alfred ganged up on me,” Jason says, leaning back against the scaffolding. “Whatever. I needed to get the hell out of there anyways. I don’t know how you stand being around them all so much.”

Dick laughs. “They’re not as interested in me,” he admits. “I’m not the cool sibling.”

Jason doesn’t respond right away. It's hard for Dick to tell, when he’s wearing the helmet, but he thinks Jason is probably waiting to see if Dick is joking. It’s another way things have shifted between them - Jason’s holding back, not jumping straight to lashing out, like he used to. It should be a good thing - it is a good thing, but it’s throwing him off balance all the same. He feels like he's spent most of the past several days looking for Jason, even when Jason is right in front of him. He’s used to trying to find the Jason he knows - or knew - the Jason who was taken away from him. Now there’s a new Jason, a Jason he’s still getting to know. Dick can’t choose between them, can’t decide which one he wants to find every time he looks at him. Maybe that’s why he can’t seem to find his one lousy mafia shooter.

“Looks like the cops are covering up the ballistics report on Reynolds,” Jason says, after a moment. “Go figure.”

Dick frowns. “Just Reynolds?”

Jason grunts. “Hold on. What.”

Dick turns to look at him.

“Did you burp her?”

Oh, Dick realizes, he’s on the comm. Someone back at the Manor must have pinged him on a private line.

“Then get Alfred to do it.”

It’s curious that the ballistics on Cy Reynolds’ murder are the ones being suppressed, Dick thinks. He was the only one killed with a submachine gun - the bullets from most of the other crime scenes had come from a standard Beretta APX, and the object of his stakeout, Susie Falcone, had used a Glock on Danielle’s parents. The Glock matched a few other shootings, the Beretta matched none. None of that is particularly noteworthy - after all, Susie is a criminal, and Beretta shell casings are a dime a dozen at any mob shooting.

“Fine. I’ll check back in five. If you asswipes don’t pick up, I’m coming back there.” Jason makes an aggravated noise in the back of his throat, which Dick takes to mean he’s hung up.

“Everything OK?”

“Just peachy. By some cosmic fucking joke, I’m the only person in the family who can get the baby to take a damn bottle. I told her they just need to burp her, but I guess that’s too complicated a task for a family of genius detectives,” Jason grumbles. “I knew I shouldn’t have left her. Shit.”

“Jay, relax. She’s fine.” Dick can’t help but grin at him. It’s honestly sweet, the way Jason and the baby have gotten attached to each other. Dick likes to think he’s her second favorite, but it’s pretty hard to tell. No matter who’s holding her, she’s always looking at Jason, and Jason never stops looking at her.

“It’s fucking cold out here,” Jason says mulishly.

Dick raises an eyebrow. “I noticed. It’s April, not August. If you really want to go back, I’m not gonna stop you.”

“I don’t…” Jason sighs. “Look, I’m here, okay? You bungled this grade school op three nights in a row, so congrats, you triggered the bat buddy system. If I leave and you fuck it up again, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Dick supposes it’s his turn not to rise to the bait. “Fair enough,” he says easily, turning around to face the alleyway again. “What were you saying about the ballistics on Reynolds?”

“Oh, Oracle ran the bullets through Interpol. Turns out our ill-fated gang boss was offed by one of Carmine Falcone’s personal weapons. The record’s been scrubbed from US databases, but Babs had a hunch.” Jason sounds impressed.

“Been scrubbed meaning...there was a record,” Dick follows, “and some people might still remember, if they saw the bullets. Hence the coverup.”

“Yup. Hence the coverup.”

“Could explain what the commissioner was doing here the other night,” Dick muses.

Jason snorts derisively. “See, this is what I hate about the mafia. They’re so goddamn predictable. Kill the competition, pay off the cops, around and around forever. It’s so pedestrian.”

Dick laughs. “You’d rather deal with Clayface?”

“Fuck yes I would. Clayface has flair, you know? Anybody can be a mobster, shit.”

Jason has started shifting with agitation, or maybe impatience. Either way, their vantage spot isn’t hidden enough for him to be moving around. “Get low if you’re gonna be twitchy,” Dick tells him. “Or if you’re gonna have a cigarette, but I’d really rather you didn’t.”

“Lucky for you I quit then,” Jason says, crouching down next to him. “I’m not jonesing, I’m just fucking cold.”

“We could huddle together for warmth,” Dick jokes, grinning unabashedly when Jason’s helmet fixes him with a death glare. “Wait, you quit smoking? When?”

“When I started taking care of a baby, obviously.” Jason goes still, suddenly. “Is that her?”

The door to the alleyway opens, and they both tense - but it’s just a man, a bodyguard, by the looks of him. Close-cropped blonde hair, early 40s, used to throwing his weight around. Feeling there’s something familiar about him, Dick nudges Jason and motions for him to take a photo. Jason starts almost imperceptibly at the contact, but follows suit. They both hold perfectly still in the shadows as the man looks around, glances in a cursory way along the rooftops, and then sets off down the alley towards the street.

“I know him,” Jason mutters. “From Tim’s case files - he was with Intergang.”

Dick doesn’t say anything about Jason calling Tim by name, but it’s a welcome development. “Looks like he switched sides, if he’s hanging out here.”

“Wonderful,” Jason says. “All right, I’m gonna check on the kid again.”

Dick represses the urge to give him a shoulder squeeze, or ruffle his hair. It’d probably result in him getting shoved off the platform, but Jason’s being so....not different, because Dick’s always known that this Jason was still in him, somewhere. Always hoped, anyways. When Jason had been younger and acted like this, surly with his words but tender with his actions, Dick had always thought of him as cute. It’s like that now, too, except it’s not just cute, because Jason has several inches and at least two weight classes on him. It’s cute in a different way, an adult way. It’s cute in a way that makes Dick want to push harder against Jason’s armor, to catch as many glimpses of that side of him as he can. If he thinks about it too long, it’s cute in a way that makes him want, recklessly.

“Red Hood to Batgirl,” Jason says. He’s calling on the family line this time. “Give me an update.”

“You’re seriously a helicopter parent, you know that, Hood?” Steph laughs in Dick’s ear. “We figured it out. Well...Black Bat figured it out.”

Jason’s shoulders sag a little in relief. Cute, Dick thinks, involuntarily. He needs to get a grip. “About fucking time.”

“She prefers being propped up,” Cass says. “It helps her swallow.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier. And she likes her back straight.”

“You said none of that, actually,” Steph says. “You just told us to support her head. Which we have been, thank you very much.”

“You have her now?”

“Robin has her.”

Dick and Jason look at each other. Jason says, “What the fuck?”

“Right?” Steph sounds amused. “I was surprised too....his friend is here, that ginger kid? He’s the one that took her from the orphanage, right?”

“Batgirl, I swear to god, if anything happens to her - ”

“Oh, calm down, jeez,” Steph groans. “They’re being supervised, okay? It’s honestly precious, you would agree with me if you could see it. I’ll text the pictures to N.”

“Please do,” Dick says. Speaking of cute, in a way that’s much safer to think about.

“Go do your job now,” Cass tells them. “We’re handling it.”

“Yeah, what she said. Batgirls out.”

“Feel better?” Dick asks, after a moment.

“Don’t ask me that,” Jason grouses. “And show me those pictures when you get them.”

Dick grins. “Sure, Jay.”

“Ugh.”

Dick decides to change the subject, before Jason gets too antsy and tries to bail. “So how do you want to play this, when Susie shows?”

Jason points to a dumpster halfway down the alley. “We wait until she’s there. I’ll get the club door, put a taser on it to stop her getting back in or anyone else from coming out. You cut her off before she gets to the street, and we question her on the backside of the dumpster. I’ll take line of sight, since I’m packing.”

Dick nods. “So is she.”

“So is every goon in those back rooms, sure. That’s why we lock their asses in.”

“And if they come out the front?”

Jason spins a gun in his hand. “Rubber bullets do the job just fine if you know how to aim. Let me worry about the backup.”

Another thing that’s changed about Jason - or that hasn’t changed, depending on how far back Dick looks. He uses rubber bullets now, whenever he’s working a case with one of them. Supposedly it’s a stipulation from Bruce, but Jason didn’t use lethal force on the couple cases he and Dick worked together, either, back when Dick was wearing the cowl. Dick thinks Bruce just gave him an excuse - whatever bloodlust Jason was fueled by when he first came back to Gotham has long since dried up. There are still things that set him off - Barbara had informed them about a dead rapist in the Narrows just last month - but Bruce hadn’t even commented on it, besides the barest acknowledgment. Dick thinks he might be the only one that actually cares when Jason kills someone, anymore. And what’s really disturbing is that he’s not actually sure how much he cares. For instance, he knows Jason has a third gun, holstered under his jacket, loaded with live ammo. He could call Jason out on it, insist he ditch it or at the very least unload it.

He says nothing. Let me worry about the backup. If this mission ends in a massacre, Dick will only have himself to blame.

The door opens again, and out steps Susie Falcone.

She immediately looks around, staying still in the doorway for a minute or more. Dick is pretty sure she hasn’t seen him following her, but he’s familiar with the sensation of being watched. He and Jason both shrink further into the shadows, waiting for her to make a move.

The whole process takes about six seconds. The moment she gets a few paces into the alley, they drop down. Jason electrifies the door handle, and Dick outmaneuvers her easily, slapping his police-issue cuffs on her and kicking her gun aside, then spinning her into the wall behind the dumpster. She hits it with a grunt. By the time she’s glaring at him, Jason is at his side again.

“Nightwing and Red Hood?” she says. “Damn. Didn’t expect to see you fellas out here.”

She doesn’t seem scared of them. Dick guesses they’ll have backup coming their way soon.

“Hey, what do you know,” Jason says conversationally, picking up the gun and emptying the clip in one swift motion. “Nightwing, I do believe this is our Glock.”

“Not mine,” Susie objects. “Picked it up off the club floor.”

“Come on, Susie, you’re smarter than that.” Jason crosses his arms. “Look, I can appreciate a sensible weapon. The Berettas the rest of your family favors? Too flashy for me. I loved Sopranos as much as the next guy, but come on.”

Dick suppresses a laugh. “Thought you were a Sig man,” he says in an undertone. He hadn’t expected Jason to take the lead, but it’s working. Susie looks agitated at the mention of her family.

“Wow, stalker. Remind me to move safe houses,” Jason quips back. “Aw, look, she slipped your cuffs.”

There’s a taser in Susie’s newly freed hand, and Dick quickly sidesteps it, twists it out of her wrist and sends it clattering down the cobblestones of the alley. Jason sweeps her legs out from under her and knocks her down flat, maybe a little harder than Dick would’ve. Thankfully, she goes down without a fight.

“Let’s try this again,” Dick says, kneeling next to her and zip-tying her wrists. If he wasn’t sure before, he is now - she was expecting them. They won’t be alone for long. He throws a couple smoke pellets down to the ends of the alley, and clips a nearly invisible wireless mic to the shoelaces of her boot under the guise of patting her down.

“You’re obviously not surprised to see us, so just tell us what we want to know,” Jason tells her, squatting down. “I’ll be honest, I don’t really give a shit that you shot Big Mouth, but what did Linda Torres ever do to you?”

“Let me up,” Susie snarls.

“No. Talk, or I’ll give you a taste of that taser you tried to pull on us.”

“Hood,” Dick hisses.

“See? He knows I’ll do it. Save yourself the grief, Susie.” Jason points the barrel of his gun lazily at her temple.

Susie narrows her eyes. “Fine. The two of them robbed me, last September. Dumb motherfuckers didn’t know who they were messing with. But I let them live because the bitch was pregnant.”

Jason makes a noise of disbelief. “Oh, sure. You’re a real bleeding heart, is that it?”

“Like you’re any better,” Susie fires back.

“You said you waited on Linda because she was pregnant,” Dick says. “Why’d you wait to kill Big Mouth?”

Susie’s mouth twists. “Guess I just felt like it.” Dick doesn’t need to see the tension in her shoulders to know she’s lying.

“Strike two.” Jason clicks the safety off. “Who put the hits out?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Susie answers. “I’m dead if I talk, so pistol whip me if you want to. Here’s the God’s honest truth: I really didn’t need a reason to kill those assholes. I was out for ‘em anyways. But I’m not crazy enough to kill a baby, all right? I don’t need shit like that on my conscience.”

“Keep talking,” Jason growls. Dick hears the whoop of a siren a few blocks off. “Where’s the baby now?”

“Somewhere safe, I swear. If anybody comes for her, it won’t be me.”

Susie still thinks Danielle’s at the orphanage, then. That’s good for them, but potentially bad for all the other kids, Colin included. These guys clearly have no problem killing children, even if Susie won’t do it.

The sirens are getting closer. Someone inside must’ve called the cops. Dick motions to Jason, indicating they need to wrap things up.

“Who is coming for her,” Jason barks, every line of his body a threat. “You’ve got five seconds.”

“You don’t.” Susie looks triumphant. They can hear the shouts of police from behind the smoke. “But don’t worry, boys. You’ll find out who really runs this town soon enough.”

“Hood,” Dick mutters. “We need to go, cops in this neighborhood aren’t cape-friendly.”

Jason stands, visibly enraged, and for a moment Dick thinks he’ll shoot Susie anyways. He’s prepared to move - but then Jason pulls out his grapple, fires, and flies up onto the roof.

“Talk about a bleeding heart,” Susie says to Dick. “He have kids or something?”

Dick doesn’t like her tone of voice at all. She’s too relaxed, too unconcerned about being under arrest. She won’t stay in long.

“It’s Nightwing! Get your hands up!”

Dick obliges, ready to pull his escrima sticks.

Three police officers come through the smoke, weapons drawn. “You better have a damn good reason for being this far out of Bludhaven,” one of them shouts at Dick.

“Sure do!” Dick calls back. “Arrested a murderer for you, no need to thank me!”

“Shut up,” a different officer retorts. “Keep your hands up, pretty boy.”

“Oh, fuck this,” Jason mutters over the comm. “I’m throwing you an escape, we’ll recon on the library roof. Stop being so goddamn chatty.”

One smoke pellet later, Dick is three rooftops away and flying. He gets to the library before Jason, exhilarated as ever from a good run.

Jason drops down next to him after a minute or so, laughing when he gets a look at Dick’s smile. “Running from the cops still does it for you, huh?”

Dick elbows him, momentarily forgetting to keep his distance. “Doesn’t it for you?”

Surprisingly, Jason doesn’t move away. “Usually they’re shooting at me, so.”

Dick leans closer, testing. “So…yes?”

“You’re so annoying,” Jason says, but he lets Dick nudge his shoulder, bump their arms together. He’s so solid, Dick thinks. So big. More like Bruce than any of them.

“So, how fast do you think she’ll get out?” he asks, when Jason stays quiet.

“Fucking tomorrow, probably,” Jason sighs. “Next week if we’re lucky.”

“Sounds like she didn’t know about Danielle, at least.”

“She’s not the problem,” Jason says, shrugging Dick off and standing back up. “Falcones will blow up the whole orphanage if they get wind of it. We need to put them down first.”

“We need to find out who’s in charge,” Dick agrees. “I planted a mic on her shoe. In the laces. Hopefully she won’t find it for a few days.”

“Good thinking,” Jason nods. “You gonna keep patrolling?”

“Might as well,” Dick says, standing up next to him and stretching his arms over his head. “I’m still stiff from that stakeout, I need to move.”

Jason’s gone quiet again. Dick thinks he hears his breath catch, but the helmet muffles it enough that it could be a yawn.

“You’re going back to the manor?”

Jason groans. “Fuck my life, yes.”

“You miss her, huh.” Cute, his brain chants.

Jason doesn’t answer, but Dick has a feeling he’s getting the stink-eye.

“I miss her too,” Dick offers. “It’s okay.”

Jason sighs. “Dick…”

“It’s a good thing, Jay. You care about her! We all do,” Dick adds, seeing the rigidity in Jason’s posture. “I mean, you’re practically her parent right now. Of course you miss her.”

“...Don’t say it like that.” Jason’s voice is low, almost pained, and Dick knows he pushed too far. “Like…like I have a right to, okay, just. Don’t.”

“Jason, wait,” Dick starts, but he doesn’t get to finish. Without a backward glance, Jason fires off a line to the neighboring building, and then he’s gone.

***

(tim)

The docks are quiet, unsettlingly so, as Tim prowls around the towers of shipping containers, keeping to the deep shadows they cast along the chipped pavement. It’s overcast, so there’s no moonlight to expose him, but it’s also too dark to see which of the trucks and campers parked all over are occupied, which ones might suddenly turn their headlights on him and catch him out.

One truck in particular - an innocuous looking Isuzu with a stunningly weaponized interior, is the object of his search. The driver, Felipe, is one of Tim’s best informants within Intergang - or had been, prior to the upheaval. Tim’s reasonably sure that Felipe is too lowly a grunt to make an example of, but still, he’s concerned that he hasn’t heard from him in a few days.

As it turns out, he needn’t have worried. He finds Felipe a hundred yard away from his truck, taking a piss off the wharf. He lets himself into the passenger side of the truck, and immediately notes that it is packed. There’s hardly a spare inch in the back, and Tim has a tough time even getting into the passenger seat with all the bags, clothes, and blankets stuffed into it. He pushes the majority of it to the floor, and waits.

Felipe comes back a few moments later. He opens the door and starts, eyes going wide when he sees Tim, but Tim puts his finger to his lips and motions for Felipe to get in so they can talk.

“Red Robin,” Felipe says, once the door is closed. He looks even more shaken than usual. “What the fuck, man?”

Tim crosses his arms. “You tell me, Felipe. You’ve been dodging my calls for days, and now I find out you’re skipping town?”

“I ditched that phone, man. Boss Reynolds had my number in there, you know? Ditched it as soon as I heard about him. I wasn’t trying to ghost you, honest.”

“Relax,” Tim tells him. “I’m not mad. I’d dodge me, too. Just tell me what happened, and I’ll shadow you out of town. Make sure you’re not followed.”

“Shit, man,” Felipe sighs. “Okay, look. There’s shit I can’t tell you, not if I ever want to hench again. You gotta figure that all out yourself, yeah?”

Tim shrugs. “Fine.”

Felipe swallows. “It started last week when Boss Reynolds met with somebody - I don’t know his name, God as my witness, but from what I heard, ‘cause I was unloading some of that funky alien tech, and you know Boss Reynolds wanted to supervise that personally - anyways, this guy in a suit took a meeting with him, and it sounded like he was offering Boss Reynolds a job. Said he had a new operation, bigger than Intergang, bigger than anything Gotham’s seen in a while.”

“Did Reynolds believe him?”

“Nah, he told him to get lost. They had some words, and then everybody started pulling guns, and I went back to the ship so I didn’t get fuckin’ shot, but I didn’t hear anything after that. Next thing I saw, Boss Reynolds was calling his son up and telling him to demo some building down by the old boardwalk - a hotel, maybe. Guess he wanted to expand that way, I don’t know.”

“That was the old Falcone hotel,” Tim says, mostly just to see Felipe’s reaction. He isn’t disappointed - Felipe goes pale, and his eyes flash to the rosary hanging off his rearview mirror. Tim likes Felipe as an informant because he’s nosy, shockingly competent for a henchman, and because he really likes to gossip. He’s never held back on Tim before this.

“Few days later, one of ours, this merc named Tiberius, comes down to the warehouse and says he’s got something to show us. Takes out a fat fuckin’ folder full of pictures…man, it was some sick shit. Boss Reynolds, his wife, Reynolds Jr, and every fuckin’ guy under him. Kids, man. He just passed it around, made everyone look at it. Then he says, we can either be in the folder, or we can come meet the new boss.”

Felipe takes a shaky breath. “Obviously I go with Tiberius, like everyone else. I heard a couple guys stayed on the ship that was docked, thinking they’d wait ‘em out, but the new boss blew it up. Says we’re not in the tech business anymore, and anyone caught trying to smuggle it is gonna get tied to it and tossed in the harbor. You can imagine my concerns,” he says, gesturing to his truck. Tim estimates half or more of the weapons in it are salvaged from alien junk. Roy Harper would have a field day with the setup this guy’s made for himself.

“So that’s why you’re bailing,” Tim says, understanding. He can hardly blame the guy. “Why not just hide the truck somewhere?”

“Well…I did think about that,” Felipe admits. “Tiberius made us a pretty sweet pitch, once we went along with him. Not gonna lie, I was tempted. Tech is my thing, you know, but I can make a gun out of pretty much anything. I could see the possibilities, is what I’m saying, but that was before we met the new boss.”

Tim nods encouragingly. This is what he’s been waiting to hear.

“Listen, Red Robin - I know we’ve had our differences, but I respect you, man, you know that. You’ve been good to me, so I’m gonna give you some advice here. Stay the hell away from the new boss. Like, don’t even get involved. I’ve been henching for a while, and I’ve seen some messed up shit, but they are crazy. Está loca, you feel me? I’ve seen the hit list, and you’re right at the top of it. You and all the other capes. Half of Arkham, too. And they’re connected, like you wouldn’t believe. Shit, I’m already saying too much, man. You see the position I’m in here?”

“I do, Felipe,” Tim tells him. He hands over a stack of hundred dollar bills, their agreed-upon rate for information. “Where are you going?”

“You’re crazy too, if you think I’m telling you that,” Felipe scoffs.

Tim wasn’t expecting a straight answer anyways. “Fair enough. You heading out now?”

“Soon as you get the hell outta my car, yeah. You said you’d shadow me out?”

“I will,” Tim says. “From a distance. If you don’t see me, it means you’re clear to cross the bridge.”

“All right,” Felipe nods. “In that case, I hope I never see your ass again.”

Tim laughs, and climbs out of the truck.

He finds his own way out of the shipyard, pulls a bike out of a safe house, and catches up with Felipe’s GPS signal halfway to the Fashion District. Once he’s sure there’s no immediate threat, he calls Barbara.

“Red Robin to Oracle. I’m uploading a recording to the server.”

Barbara is in his ear at once. “You met with your informant?”

“He wouldn’t give me a name, but he let a couple things slip.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” she says.

“First, he flinched hard when I brought up the Falcone name.”

“Confirms what we already know,” Barbara says. “Good. There’s more?”

“There’s more.” Tim tries not to gloat. This is, after all, a serious situation. “He was being cagey about mentioning the leader’s gender, so I was already suspicious, but then said ‘está loca’ when he was trying to warn me.”

Barbara whistles. “Well,” she says, sounding satisfied. “That’ll certainly narrow it down.”

“Yep,” Tim says grimly. “Looks like the new head of the Falcone family is a woman.”

***

(jason)

When Jason was Robin, the library had always been his favorite room in the Manor. It had spoken easily to his idea of what wealth was - rich people had fancy cars, sure, and maybe pools and expensive wardrobes, but wealthy people had art collections, and gardens, and libraries. Jason had spent hours upon hours browsing the shelves, reading anything he could wrap his brain around (and plenty of things he couldn’t), suggesting additions to Alfred, and avoiding his schoolwork in favor of learning about more interesting things, like string theory, or cryptology, or chemical warfare.

That was then.

Now, the library is the only place he can get a minute of peace from the constant barrage of his obnoxious, nosy, boundaryless family members. They’ve been characteristically persistent in their curiosity about him, and about Danielle, who is now Dani, courtesy of Stephanie. This is a nickname family, she’d said, and Jason hadn’t known how to disagree. So now she’s Dani, and Jason is family, and that apparently means he is no longer entitled to any privacy, or personal space for that matter. The only person who hasn’t barged in on him is Bruce, which is almost worse, in a way, because it’s one thing when nobody seeks him out, and it’s quite another when everyone does and then Bruce...doesn’t. Not that he wants Bruce to come up and bother him, God. But he’s in the man’s house, he’s hearing him on the comm constantly either on patrol or down in the cave, and all the other Bat brats and even Alfred are buzzing around him like flies. It’s too much - it feels like before, except for Bruce’s conspicuous absence reminding him that it’s not.

Sharing a bathroom with Dick is another before experience that Jason didn’t need a repeat of. In some ways, it was worse when he was Robin - stripping and showering after patrol in the cave with Dick a few feet away from him is a memory he really wouldn’t have minded leaving back in the Pit - and in other ways, it’s worse now, because Dick is always freaking around. There’s no reprieve, he’s not flitting off to the Titans every week like he used to be. Jason hasn’t gone half a day without Dick getting in his space, drawing up close to him and making that earnest eye contact he’s so annoyingly good at; sometimes wet, sometimes half-naked, sometimes both. And what can Jason do? He’s not going to leave Dani, and he needs Dick to be there so he can get some sleep every once in a while, or patrol, or shower. It’s actually been pretty helpful to have him around, in that regard, but if he has to see the guy walking around with bedhead and nothing but a pair of boxer briefs on one more time, he’s going to fucking explode.

So, the library has its benefits: no harassment from over-familiar family members, no Dick sexually frustrating him within an inch of his life, and, if he’s willing to be a little sentimental, he kind of does want to show it to Dani. She’s too young to appreciate it, probably, but it stirs something in him to share it with her all the same. He’s heard it’s never too early to get kids into reading - his parents sure as hell never tried, but Jason had read anything he could get his hands on, once he learned how. It had saved him, back then. Maybe it can do the same for Dani one day.

“Could’ve sworn Bruce had a Dr. Seuss anthology somewhere in here,” he says to her, combing over the shelves with his eyes. “Guess not. You up for something more sophisticated?”

She grunts, squeezing his shirt in her fist. “Alright,” he agrees, pulling Twelfth Night off the shelf. “Shakespeare it is. You’ve got taste, kid.”

He wonders, not for the first time, what exactly he thinks he’s doing, playing at this whole parenting thing. The rational part of his brain knows that this is a case, that Dani is a victim, that Jason is protecting her because it’s his job. The emotional part of his brain has gone completely off the goddamn rails. Case in point: he’s here with her in the library, prepping her for early literacy like some kind of Crest Hill soccer mom wannabe. Like he’ll even be in her life when she starts doing her ABCs - God willing, she’ll be as far away from him as possible by the time that happens.

It’s fucking hard to think about. He never thought he’d get this attached to a person who can’t even burp on their own. It’s been over a week, and he still struggles with putting her down, with stepping away from her, even when he knows he’s coming right back. Steph and Damian have been wanting to hold her all the time, and Jason knows that they’re capable, knows he has no claim over Dani, doesn’t even mind either of them all that much under normal circumstances, and still, he can’t help feeling like something has reached inside and gripped at his heart every time he passes her over. Which is ridiculous, because she’s not his, he has no more claim over her than any other schmuck off the street. She’s just a kid with unbelievably bad luck, and he’s the idiot who followed Dick up the stairs instead of booking it out the door like a sensible person.

He settles down with her on the couch, propping her up on a couple of pillows, giving her foot a little squeeze. She squeals, smiling at him, and stuffs her fingers in her mouth. God, Jason didn’t know he could feel the way he feels whenever she smiles at him. It’s gonna kill him when he has to give her up.

“If music be the food of love, play on,” he reads, walking his fingers up her leg. “Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken, and so die.”

Dani watches him, chewing happily on her fingers. “‘O, it came over my ear like the sweet sound that breathes upon a bank of violets.’ That’s you, you know.” He pokes her in the cheek, grinning. If music be the food of love…but hell, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this. Especially when she’s all calm and engaging, the precious few minutes that he’s learned to appreciate in between finishing eating and being tired and cranky, when all she wants to do is look around at things, and all Jason wants to do, ever, is look at her.

The door to the library opens, and Jason goes from content to murderous in a fraction of a second. “What the fuck is it now,” he hisses, expecting Damian or maybe Tim, coming to nag him some more, and instead sees Damian’s friend Colin, who looks horrified to have intruded on him. Jason immediately feels like the world’s biggest ass.

“Sorry,” Colin whispers, mortified, and Jason waves a hand apologetically.

“My bad, I didn’t know it was you. Come in, it’s fine. She’s awake, you don’t need to whisper.”

Colin looks unsure, but soon nods and steps into the library, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Once inside, he dawdles by the nearest bookshelf, clearly at a loss. Jason probably should’ve just let him back out, because this is awkward. Should he keep reading to Dani? Talk to Colin? Ask him why he looks like someone just kicked him and stole his dog?

“You good?” he ventures, figuring he ought to at least attempt to be the adult in the room.

Colin glances at him over his shoulder, smiling tentatively. “Yeah, just bored. Damian’s sleeping, we had a rough patrol last night.”

“We?” Jason repeats, stunned. Bruce isn’t an exemplar of child welfare practices, sure, but letting Damian take other kids on crime-busting playdates? What the hell?

“Oh, I guess you don’t know,” Colin frowns. “I’m….uh, it’s probably easier if I just show you.”

He slides his jacket off, threadbare t-shirt hanging off his skinny frame. Jason tenses, not sure what to expect. When Colin’s arm starts to expand, his eyes widen. By the time his fist is as big around as Jason’s thigh, he thinks his eyebrows have probably disappeared into his hairline.

“Oh.” Jason has no idea how he’s supposed to react to this. Is Colin a meta? He’s pretty sure he would know if Colin was a meta. “How…?”

“Scarecrow,” Colin explains. Jason’s heart sinks. “He experimented on me with synthetic Venom. Batman saved me.”

Dani fusses, twisting her body and scrunching her face up. Jason sympathizes - this conversation is giving him gas, too. “Shit,” he says. Not the most articulate way of expressing his condolences, but Colin’s friends with Damian, so tact can’t be of great importance to him. “I didn’t know.”

Dani starts to cry, and Colin takes a couple steps forward, putting Jason’s hackles up at once. Stop it, he tells himself sternly. He might have fallen down a few pegs, but he’s not pathetic enough to square up against an abused fifth grader. He picks her up, rubbing her back, and then glances over at Colin. The kid’s gone shy, looking down at a point somewhere between Jason’s legs and the floor. Jason feels all the hostility bleed out of him, and he sighs.

“You can sit down.” He gestures to the couch, trying to sound nonthreatening. Dani burps, mouths at his shirt, and then gurgles and kicks her legs again. She leans back against his hold to stare at Colin, and Colin’s face splits into a huge grin. He tucks himself down into the cushions, keeping plenty of space between them, but Jason can sense from the inclination of his body that he wants to be closer. Well, if anyone has a right to be close to Dani, it’s the kid who rescued her in the first place.

“Here,” he offers, turning Dani around in his arms. His heart clenches, and he clamps down on his desire to flee. “You can hold her for a minute, if you want to. She likes you.”

Colin looks at him, eyes shining. “Really?”

Jason nods. “Go ahead. Honestly, you probably know a lot more about this shit than I do.”

Colin takes Dani from him carefully, smiling at her and laughing when she reaches forward to grab at his jacket zipper. A few seconds later, it’s in her mouth, along with most of her fist.

“Should I…?” Colin looks at Jason hesitantly.

“I mean…she’s had worse things in her mouth,” Jason tells him. A ringing endorsement of his child-minding abilities right there. “It’s fine, right? That’s how they build an immune system, or whatever.”

“Well, Alfred washed this for me last night,” Colin admits, looking embarrassed. “So it shouldn’t be too gross.”

Jason leans back against the couch cushions, crossing his arms. “Getting all the perks, huh?”

Colin shrugs, casting his eyes down again. “I like it here.”

Considering where Colin grew up, Jason supposes he can’t blame the kid. Still, he’s not quite wrapping his head around this sweet, genuinely nice kid being buddies with Damian. The demon brat isn’t exactly known for his winning personality, and Jason only knows vaguely how the two of them met, but what he’s heard doesn’t strike him as being particularly conducive to forging the lasting bonds of friendship.

Curiosity gets the better of him, and he decides to just ask. “Why’d you call Damian, the night you found her?”

Colin looks surprised. “I...don’t know,” he says, slowly. “I didn’t know who else to call? Damian’s my best friend, and he always knows what to do.”

Jason can’t keep the skeptical look off his face.

“And if he doesn’t, Bat….Bruce, I mean, definitely always knows what to do.”

Jason scrubs a hand over his face. Time to change the fucking subject. “How’d you two get hooked up, anyways?”

Dani turns her head to look at him, still eating Colin’s zipper. Sometimes, Jason gets the bizarre feeling that she can somehow tell when he’s about to blow a gasket. It’s probably a coincidence - she moves around a lot, and Jason has anger issues that flare up every ten minutes, so there’s bound to be some crossover - but it works, because it takes the fight right out of him every time.

“We worked a case together,” Colin says, holding Dani a little more securely against him. “About a year ago, I guess. Kids were disappearing from my orphanage, and from the shelters. I don’t think you were around.”

“I wasn’t,” Jason shakes his head. He and Roy had been busting a trafficking ring in Ibiza, and it had taken Jason over a month to get all the major players. “I heard about it a little, from Dick.”

Dick hadn’t given him too many details at the time - Jason had chalked it up to him having a few other things on his mind, but as Colin fills in the gaps, he starts to suspect Dick just didn’t want him going on a rampage. Which he absolutely would have - he still wants to, God. God. All those poor kids, just a stone’s throw from his old neighborhood. And of course the police had done jack shit - Zsasz is practically Black Mask’s pet, he probably paid them off to look the other way, not that most of them need the excuse - and Bruce was gone, and Jason was gone, and Dick was in over his head, and - fuck, it should never have fallen to Damian and Colin.

He waits for the fury to subside a little, not trusting what will come out of his mouth. Dani hums around her fist, blinking at him, and it helps. “Jesus,” he says, finally. “This fucking town.”

Colin’s mouth twists a little. “Yeah. But you were Robin, right? You probably saw worse things.”

Did he? Jason doesn’t remember. He doubts it, though. He can’t imagine he would’ve been satisfied with Bruce’s way of dealing with it.

“I wouldn’t have pulled my stroke, when I was Robin,” he muses. “Probably why Bruce never gave me a sword.”

No, Jason would’ve bisected the fucker. It still has appeal, though he thinks he would lean towards his favorite Sig rifle if he was taking care of it today. Headshots for the henchmen - anyone who signs on to that kind of operation, even in the most menial capacity, doesn’t deserve to breathe. Kneecaps and crotch shots for the spectators, to make sure they couldn’t get away. Gut shots for the kid-wranglers. And Zsasz....it’s tempting to want to draw it out, but Jason can feel the desire leaving him the longer he thinks about it. His imaginative tortures fade into a simple headshot, and even that isn’t satisfying. Fuck. He just can’t seem to hold onto his rage lately, even when he wants to. It’s all being replaced by some kind of anxiety, some kind of tenderness that aches, burning deep into him every time Dani looks at him, or touches him. Every time he thinks of her. Every time he feels Dick watching him with her, all warmth and affection.

Colin bounces her a little, making her laugh. Jason feels his revenge fantasy slip away.

“What’re you reading her?” Colin nods to the book still laying open in Jason’s lap.

Jason looks at it. “Oh, Twelfth Night. Shakespeare,” he adds, recalling that Colin is eleven, and likely not perusing great literature in his free time. “Figure it’s never too early to start her on the classics.”

Colin grins. “That’s cool,” he says. “Does she like it?”

“Beats me,” Jason shrugs.

“Read some?”

Jason raises his eyebrows.

Colin flushes. “Um. I mean, if you want…”

He decides to humor him. What the hell. “Sure, why not. ‘O spirit of love! How quick and fresh art thou, that, notwithstanding in thy capacity, receiveth as the sea.’”

Dani yawns widely, relinquishing her fist in a long string of drool. Jason laughs, and so does Colin. “Maybe jumping the gun a little,” he admits. “I don’t really know what kids are into these days.”

“Me either,” Colin says. “I think she liked it, though. See, she’s just sleepy.”

Jason feels a lump forming in his throat, and swallows hard against it.

“What does it mean? The part you were reading,” Colin asks.

“Um.” Jason doesn’t really know, he’s not exactly a literary scholar, but he’s always liked to work Shakespeare out on his own, finding meaning in the wordplay and running the metaphors through his mind until they line up in a satisfactory way. He doesn’t know if his interpretation is correct, exactly, but: “So this Duke, a guy called Orsino, is saying that he doesn’t want to be in love anymore. He’s talking about love and how everyone thinks it’s this wonderful thing, but the truth is that it actually just makes people miserable.”

Jason pauses, feeling like he just showed way too much of his hand. “Basically, he’s just complaining,” he finishes, uneasy.

Glancing at Colin out of the corner of his eye, he’s relieved to see that he’s occupied with Dani, and not paying attention to Jason at all. Thank fuck. If it’d been anyone else in the house sitting there, he’d be in for some horrible armchair psychology session, and he’d have to book it out the window and not return for several months.

“I think she wants you,” Colin says, as Dani ramps up her fussing. Jason takes her gratefully, holds her to his chest as she rubs her eyes and grumbles her displeasure at being passed around.

“All right, I hear you,” Jason murmurs, gently tugging her fists away from her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, come on. It’s not so bad.” Like he’s one to talk.

And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, ever since pursue me, he thinks, rocking her tiny body into a comfortable position. Colin was only holding her for ten, maybe fifteen minutes, and Jason was sitting less than five feet away, but he missed her. God, what is happening to him?

“Damian didn’t want to bring her here, at first,” Colin says quietly. “But I think he’s glad that we did. He really likes her, you know.”

Jason doesn’t quite know how to feel about that. It’s sweet, on some level. And he’s well aware that Damian likes her, going by the amount of time he spends hovering in the hallway outside Jason’s room, not to mention the increasingly expensive toys that keep showing up among her things.

He looks down at her, dozing off. “Well, she’s pretty easy to like.”

Colin nods, looking pleased.

“Damian, on the other hand....”

Colin grins. “He’s not so bad.”

He’s really not. Like hell Jason will ever tell him that, though. “You have bizarre taste, kid.”

Colin blushes, hard, and Jason blinks. Well. That’s interesting, isn’t it? Or it will be, in a few years. He makes a note to ask Dick about it, later.

“Are you gonna adopt her?” Colin asks, bringing Jason’s amused thoughts to a screeching halt.

Automatically, he says, “No way.”

Colin looks wounded. “Why not?”

“Because I can’t,” Jason replies. “I’m the last person who should be a parent, trust me.”

“Doesn’t look that way to me.”

Doesn’t feel that way either - the thought floats up, unbidden, uninvited. He can’t. “She deserves better,” Jason says, heavily. “Even if….even I could handle it. She deserves better than this family.”

“But your family is - ”

“A death sentence.” He’s being harsh, but if Colin’s gonna be hanging around, he’ll find out for himself soon enough. “It’s fucking cursed, look. I couldn’t do that to any kid, especially her. You should get out too, while you still can.”

Colin looks angry, which surprises him. His hands are balled into fists, and Jason sees a tremor in them, a bulging that immediately sets off alarm bells in his head.

“Kid,” he says sharply. “Colin. If you’re gonna hulk out, take it outside. Alfred will have an honest-to-God stroke if you do it in here.”

A few deep breaths later, Colin looks normal again. “Sorry.” His voice is hoarse. “You’re wrong, though.”

Jason’s temper flares. “No offense, but I think I would know better than you,” he snaps. Dani grumbles sleepily in his arms, and he sighs out in frustration. “Trust me, okay? She’s better off. It never ends well, not in this family. I’m proof of that.”

But Colin shakes his head. “You don’t know,” he says. “My mom said the same thing, when she dropped me off at the orphanage. She gave the nuns a letter - she said I’d be better off with them than with her.”

Jason stills.

“It didn’t matter,” Colin continues. “Scarecrow still got me. Victor Zsasz still got me. Maybe they would have gotten me with her, too. Maybe I wouldn’t have been that much better off with her, but at least I would’ve been with her.” He sniffles, and Jason holds Dani a little tighter.

“I know she loved me.” His voice cracks. “I just wish...I wish I could’ve stayed with her. I wish she would have known that I never would’ve been better off away from her.”

He looks absolutely miserable, pitched forward and rubbing hard at his eyes. Jason is reminded painfully of how young Colin is, closer to Dani’s age than his own. He remembers being Colin’s age and younger, thinking the same thoughts about his own mother. How fiercely he’d guarded her, chased away the cops and the social workers, doing everything in his power not to be separated from her. Not that it mattered, in the end.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Colin, I’m sorry. For the record, I actually kind of get where you’re coming from.”

Colin looks up at him.

“Wish I didn’t, but. That’s life.”

“You should adopt her,” Colin says again, softly.

Jason shakes his head. “Colin…”

“You’ll think about it.”

He exhales. “Sure, I’ll think about it.” Like he’ll be able to think about anything else after this.

“She needs you,” Colin insists stubbornly.

Jason doesn’t reply. He knows on some level Colin is right - Dani does need him right now. She needs someone, at least, someone who can take care of her and protect her. Someone who isn’t afraid to shed blood to keep her safe. Jason doesn’t relish the thought, but he’s certain this won’t end tidily. Mob cases never do. It’ll be messy, and bloody, and Bruce will have a shit fit, and Dick probably will too, and Jason will go back to Crime Alley and Dani will get shipped off to Witness Protection or something, and damn, does that hurt to think about.

He looks over at Colin, still hunched over on himself, vulnerability written into every line of his posture. He’s desperately in need of a hug, or some kind of affection, validation, maybe. Or that’s just Jason projecting, who the fuck knows. If Dick was here, he would know exactly what to do for him. Jason’s at a loss, unable to separate his young self from the damaged kid sitting next to him.

He adjusts his hold on Dani carefully, laying her down flat along his arm, while he works out what to say. Finally, he settles on, “Damian’s lucky to have you.”

Colin sits up a little straighter. He looks like he’s waiting for more, but he’s shit out of luck, because Jason has no idea what else he needs to hear. No idea what he could say that wouldn’t be completely insincere, anyways. We can be your family, Colin. Like hell. Bruce has enough kids lined up waiting to die for him, he’s not about to encourage another one to be turned into cannon fodder for the man’s principles.

“Uh, yeah,” Jason says, after a moment. “That’s all I got.”

Colin smiles wanly. “Thanks, anyways.”

Jason snorts. “Sure.”

“Can I hug you?”

Jason stares. “Can you…what? Me?”

“I won’t if you don’t want me to,” Colin adds, averting his eyes.

Jason can’t even remember the last time someone hugged him. He thinks Roy might’ve, some eight or nine months ago, after they’d narrowly survived a warehouse explosion. Jason’s whole body had been ringing from the blast, so he doesn’t exactly remember the sensation of it. And before that…?

He imagines Dick’s reaction, if he was here. He’d be disappointed in Jason, that’s for sure. Really, Jay? You can’t hug a child? It’s a fair argument, he has to admit. Jason’s fucked up personal space issues don’t really apply to children, or babies, clearly. Colin’s obviously attention-starved, and Jason’s already holding one kid. What’s another, really.

“Okay,” he relents. “Hit me.”

There’s a shuffling motion next to him, and then Colin is hugging his free arm, leaning his head against Jason’s shoulder. Jason can’t quite contain his surprise - it’s weird, as expected, but it’s not dramatically increasing his desire to bolt through the nearest exit like he’d thought it would. It’s a little funny, actually. He’s pretty sure both Bruce and Damian would lose their shit if they could see him right now. Dick, too, most likely, but to his credit, it would be a happy kind of shit-losing. Damian would probably try to gut him.

Are there cameras in the library? Jason can’t remember. He kind of hopes there aren’t, because if anyone else sees this, he will absolutely never live it down.

***

(dick)

“Wait, I think that’s him.” Dick leans forward to peer at Tim’s screen. He points to the familiar looking figure. “That guy. Do you have a clearer shot?”

Tim skips a few photos ahead, and zooms in. “Him?”

“Yes. That’s the guy. Jason said he recognized him from your surveillance files. He was at the club the night we caught Susie Falcone.”

“The fourth night, was it?” Tim asks, innocently.

“Don’t be mean, Timmy.”

“Just clarifying,” Tim grins. Dick raises an eyebrow. “Okay, okay. I don’t have a ton of intel on this guy, he’s really slippery. According to my informant, he goes by Tiberius - some kind of mercenary, Greek or Albanian national. I doubt that’s his real name.”

Dick nods, studying the photographs. Tim continues, “He came over with Intergang as an enforcer, I think. Might’ve been Reynolds’ personal bodyguard.”

“Could explain how Reynolds got taken out,” Dick says thoughtfully. “He’s on the Falcones’ payroll now, but he’s not family. Might be an easy target.”

Tim opens his mouth, about to reply, when there’s a choked-off sound of fury from the Batcave below them.

“Was that Damian? He’s up already?” Dick asks, glancing down towards Bruce’s computer. He hops over the ramp to see what the fuss is about. Tim follows close behind.

“Everything okay?” Dick asks, approaching the wall of screens. There’s nothing that jumps out at him as being particularly alarming; Bruce is looking at DNA analyses, and Damian is looking at the Manor surveillance, tapping furiously at his ear.

“Todd!” he hisses. “What do you think you’re doing? Colin is my friend!”

“Robin,” Oracle’s voice comes through the speaker. “No names on the comms. And Hood isn’t wearing his earpiece, so you’ll have to tell him in person.” She sounds amused. “Oracle out.”

Damian swears.

“Holy shit,” Tim says faintly. “Look at them.”

The screen that all the Manor surveillance feeds run to is showing just one room - the library, of all places, but Dick vaguely recalls it being some kind of sanctuary to Jason, years and years ago. It makes sense that he’d end up back there, and it makes sense that he’d have Dani with him. What Dick doesn’t expect to see is little Colin Wilkes, all five feet and change of him, snuggled up to Jason’s side and hugging him, wrapped around his arm like a gangly koala. Dick can’t help but notice that Jason’s bicep is about as big around as Colin’s head, which is certainly...something. He’s not quite ready to classify how he feels about that, so he refocuses on the hug itself, which is nothing short of charming.

Damian grinds his teeth audibly. “It’s still going.”

“Oh, man.” Dick can’t help the grin he feels creeping up the sides of his face. “Bruce, are you seeing this?”

“I am,” Bruce says, stiffly. He looks like he’s in pain. Dick fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“What’s wrong with you? Look how sweet they are!” he exclaims, gesturing. It’s adorable.

“It is not sweet,” Damian snarls, whirling on him. “Todd is a corruptive influence, and Colin is young and impressionable! Where is your concern for him?”

Tim coughs, and it sounds a little bit like “jealous”. Surprisingly, this does not diffuse Damian’s indignation.

“I don’t get it,” Dick says, stepping between them quickly to block Damian’s spinning kick. “I thought you and Jason were fine, Damian. You’ve been spending enough time in our - in his room lately. Where’s this coming from?”

“Incredibly, I don’t feel as concerned about Todd recruiting an infant onto the path of lawlessness,” Damian retorts. “Colin lacks paternal guidance in his life, as you know. Todd clearly senses it.”

“Jason is very paternal these days,” Tim agrees.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just a hug,” Dick says in exasperation. “No one’s recruiting anyone, Damian. And look, it’s over. Your friend is just a hugger, that’s all.”

“I must agree with Master Richard,” Alfred says from behind them. “Having been the recipient of many such embraces from young Master Colin myself.”

“See? I’ve gotten hugs from him too,” Dick tells Damian. “And I know you have, so don’t bother denying it. He’s probably gearing up the courage to get one from Bruce one of these days.”

Bruce looks slightly alarmed by the prospect. “He is?”

Damian looks conflicted. “He is?”

Dick casts his eyes heavenward. “Colin, I’m so sorry.”

Before he can say anything else, the Cave door opens below them, and Duke’s bike comes shooting in, whipping around into its parking spot in a move that would send Dick flying over the handlebars. Bruce takes about half a second to look impressed, and then clears the main screen to pull up their intel on the Falcone case.

“What’s up, guys,” Duke calls, pulling off his helmet and jogging up the steps. “I’ve got news. Where’s Jason?”

“Being hugged, in the library,” Dick tells him. “You just missed it.”

Duke looks nonplussed. “Damn. Wait, that’s not some kind of weird euphemism, is it? If it is, I don’t want to know.”

“It most certainly is not,” Damian says venomously.

“Cool. I tried to get him on the comm, but he didn’t respond. Should I go get him? He’ll want to hear this.”

“Damian will get him,” Bruce says.

Damian is…already on the elevator. Dick spares a thought for Jason. At least he’s holding Dani, so Damian won’t attack him outright.

“Your news?” Bruce prompts.

“Right,” Duke nods. “I’ve been all over City Hall records, and spent yesterday afternoon getting intel in the East End. I’ve got names and faces of most of the major players in this. They’re trying hard to front some distant nephew of Carmine Falcone as the head of the whole operation, but it wasn’t quite adding up. You said the new Falcone boss is a woman, right?” he asks Tim.

Tim nods affirmatively.

Duke looks triumphant. “Then I know who she is.���

***

[ghost-at-the-masquerade]

Recklessly Polite

Rating: G

Count: 1581

Summary: Link is invited to a spring celebration on Death Mountain

It's traditional, Yunobo says. A celebration of the coming of spring. A joyous occasion he can't imagine not having Link participate in. What spring means on a volcano, they haven't yet worked out, but they also haven't worked out how to say 'no' to an invitation.

The gorons around them are cheering something in their own language, each and every one fired up and eager to get started. The racers are all done up in regalia Link's never seen before; smooth golden shoulder guards connected with a sash as red as the depths of the mountain, the goron ruby embroidered on it in gold thread. Much like Yunobo with Daruk's scarf, they all had a unique piece representing their families.

From his spot upon the lip of the volcano, the elder manages to shout over the crowd, quieting even the rowdiest of them to at least a dull roar.

"Brothers!" he cries, his arms raised high, "We have a special guest with us here this year, and one to whom we have a lot to prove!" The elder looks down at Link, all mischief and good humor as he declares, "So give them everything you've got!"

Despite their uncertainty Link nods, and can't help but smile at the uproar of playful teasing that follows. They can only laugh at being jostled by so many large hands.

Yunobo shoots them a warm smile and a pair of thumbs-up before getting into the starting position. Link returns the gesture and braces themself, heart pumping, waiting for the explosion that would signal the start of the race. They adjust the helmet over their head one last time, staring down the long and craggy track. It's more than just the heat that has them sweating.

The force of it so close behind them almost knocks them off their feet, causing them to start a second behind the others. With no time to practice and no intention of participating in the first place, they didn't actually have a plan. Following their first instinct had them throwing themself head over heels into a roll, picking up dangerous and wild momentum almost instantly.

It was impossible to see where they were going; they only caught brief glimpses of gorons around them, both audience and racer - and brief, terrifying flashes of lava as they sailed over it. Though Daruk's blessing and the hardy cloth of their fire-proof suit kept them safe from any real harm, a choked gasp for air was punched out of them with every landing.

After the first slope had thrown them clean over a small plateau, they came to a bruised and bumbling stop with their heels grating against the stone. The crowd gasps and murmurs while Link waits for the pitching and spinning of their vision to slow, at least enough for them to get to their feet. The pack was quickly passing them by. Concerned healers were heading their way, squawking a confounded, "Little brother, what on earth are you doing?"

Link only shrugged and smiled at them, jogging towards the next slope and getting out a rusty shield. Just ahead, they catch a flash of a bright blue scarf, and their target is set.

Sparks fly out behind them on the harsh stone, the grating drowned out by a fresh cheer; they'll take that as approval of their non-traditional methods. Here the ground was beginning to even out, the cracks full of molten lava far less frequent. They wove around the larger stones, gaining speed, gaining ground on the first of their opponents. To their shock, once they were in range, the goron swerved hard in their direction, sharp defensive spikes sprouting from their back and ripping new grooves into the track. The crowd gasped at the aggressive gesture but Link, once they had recovered from the initial shock, only laughed, full and deep in their chest.

Drawing a rock crusher from the infinite depths of their pouch, Link skirted hard toward the stranger. They took a swing once he was in range, a miss that sent them scrambling to counter-balance the momentum of the heavy stone weapon. Countering, however, left them with a dramatic loss in speed that their opponent was eager to take advantage of; rather than just pass them and have it be over, he pulled his arms free and dug hard fingers into stone, leaving his spiny back directly in their path. Link took a sharp gasp of the burning hot air and whipped the crusher out in front of themself.

The spike that made first contact left a jagged gouge in the side of the crusher. The goron howled, though it was hard to say if from pain or just surprise, as the tip of the spike snapped off. This break let them twist away, sailing past their opponent, though he's quick to tear at the earth and start after them again.

Crossing and narrowly missing each other time and again, passing each other and being forced to fall back, the friendly rivalry kept on through most of the open plain. Onlookers held their breath, far more aware of the danger than Link themself. Finally, they felt like they had seen enough, knew enough about his patterns, and Link took one more decisive swing. The hooked end of the crusher caught him in the side, sending him spiraling far out of range, disappearing behind a fork in the track. With a victorious cheer, they tossed their weapon on their back and pressed their weight forward, determined to catch up to their friend before the end.

Soon the pack passed from rocky plain to a narrow pass filled with stone pillars. The other racers disappeared from view, but there was no time to worry about that; the ground was uneven, pitching them unpredictably to and fro, making pillars difficult to reliably dodge. Link crouched low, hoping to take a bit more control. Somewhere off to their left they heard a pained grunt as someone smacked into one of the pillars. Several more were heard as the path took a sharp turn and became ever narrower. Some of the pillars at the edge of their vision even rattled with the impact, sending pebbles scattering down the track like tiny racers.

When at last the pillar-filled pass opened up, it was into the final stretch; a long, steep slope that eased into a plateau at the finish line. Several racers had already finished, and there would be no catching Yunobo before the end, but they could hear the rumbling of numerous others they could still beat.

Glancing back, their eyes widened to see the other racers piling in behind them. More than a few had drawn their spikes and were swerving toward each other. Link's ears stood on end at the sound of metal scraping against itself - or, whatever those spikes were made of. Mentally they leafed through their options, trying to think of any way to go faster and coming up with nothing. Gravity was doing all the work here. They try anyway, almost down on their knees. When they adjust their weight they can feel several spots where the shield has worn dangerously thin.

All they can do now is call on Daruk and hope for the best. His protection dulls some of the noise and the burning wind whipping past them. Link can feel their heart beat with a familiar rhythm. Daruk's voice sounded in their head, growling as a crack formed in the back of the magical dome. They look back again, just in time to catch the goron who had glanced off the barrier. The pack had closed in much faster than they had anticipated, and now a few were pulling ahead, boxing them in.

Just as they hit the last curve leading onto the plateau, their shield finally gave up the ghost, cracking jaggedly down the center. With a sharp gasp they were thrown back into a wild roll. Now waiting on the sidelines, Yunobo watched in utter horror as Link disappeared into the crowd. The hero themself couldn't say much of what happened from there, shutting their eyes against the flashes of red stone and blue sky and terrifyingly close goron spikes.

The avalanche of gorons, Link just barely keeping from getting flattened between them, tumbled at last across the finish line. Some failed to stop and hit the far wall, others ground their hands into the stone and ended up piling on top of each other. Yunobo ran for all he was worth.

"Link!" Yunobo shouted, concern thick in his voice as he pushed through the crowd, literally tossing a few still-rolled gorons aside in his desperation to find them.

Laying on their back, the sky spinning slowly above them, Link raised a thumb for Yunobo to see they were alright.

"Oh, good, what a relief," He sighed, a hand to his chest. Perking up again, he said, "You did amazing, Link! I mean, I knew you would, but wow!"

Link stayed where they were while Yunobo gushed. Daruk's magic had been exhausted, but a few wisps still hovered around them, as if Daruk himself was still curled around them in a desperate attempt to keep them from getting crushed. With a soft, appreciative smile, they closed their eyes for a moment to tell him it was alright now.

Then Yunobo was pulling them to their feet, pushing them toward the final ceremony on legs full of pins and needles.

[happymetalgirl]

October 2020

Six Feet Under - Nightmares of the Decomposed

I wrote a full-length review of this disaster of an album earlier in the month, and yeah, wow. Between the phoned-in performances from the instrumentalists who have proven themselves far above this joke of a band and the half-assed production this would have been a pretty crappy album even without Chris Barnes’ milk-aged vocals. But he’s here, and he’s managed to actually get worse too, gasping his way through the whole album and littering it with these ludicrous “high” squeals that would make Smeagol sound like a more competent death metal vocalist. It’s the worst thing I’ve heard all year, and what’s worse, I don’t think Six Feet Under is stopping.

1/10

With that out of the way, let’s cleanse the pallet right away with some really good shit.

Greg Puciato - Child Soldier: Creator of God

Ever reliable in his artistically integrity, explosive former Dillinger Escape Plan frontman, Greg Puciato, has been pretty sonically and artistically adventurous since the honorable dissolution of the iconic mathcore outfit, his most notable music project being the ethereal, synth-heavy The Black Queen. This year, however, Puciato has gone fully solo for a full-length project, and something told me to get ready for a wild ride, and boy was I right on that hunch. Borne out of an exponentiated process of songwriting that produced songs Puciato deemed unfitting for any of his current projects, what was planned as a small release to ship these songs out of the writing room eventually spiraled into a full-blown debut solo album clocking in at over an hour. A lot of solo projects play like clearly indulgent amateur hour sessions from an artist whose ego has been boosted pretty well from significant success from their main project, leading them to overconfidently try their hand at music they have no business trying it at. And it’s often approached under the understanding that it is a victory lap, more or less, and a satisfaction of creative impulses for the sake of it. Sometimes the resultant material is clearly inspired and showcases a side of an artist that certainly deserves some spotlight. Other times it feels like being trapped in an awkward situation with an acquaintance where they just show you all their newest pedals and production software and you’re just stuck there watching them fiddle around while you nod along and offer the occasional “wow, that’s pretty crazy” every now and then while they don’t pick up on the obvious cues that you are just waiting for them to finish playing with their toys. While Puciato was open about this album being borne from the very creatively borderless mindset that so often damns solo projects, Child Soldier: Creator of God is an actual realization of the type of grand, genre-spanning album that so many solo artists envision themselves making and set out to create, and it’s hardly a whimsical, amateurish crack at the styles within either. Puciato’s foray into sludge metal, industrial rock, harsh noise, darkwave, synthwave, and shoegaze, (1) makes for a hell of a dynamic and exciting track list, and (2) shows a much deeper than average respect for and relationship with the styles being played here. This isn’t some frontman thinking his charisma can carry him through a whole rap solo album; this is a well-rounded artist (also a hell of a frontman, no denying that) giving the most comprehensive look yet into his creative mind. The album leaps around in patches of different styles, strung together mostly by ambient connective tissue of various types, all with a great attention to detail paid to both texture and progression. We get early patches of smooth ambiance, but also aggressive industrial and sludge metal, eventually moving to more soothing and meditative synthy stuff around the middle, finishing with some serene, Have a Nice Life-esque shoegaze. But really there’s no way to sum up this album stylistically without breaking down every single song on here, and that would just ruin the fun and the experience. You really just have to experience it for yourself.

9/10

DevilDriver - Dealing with Demons I

Embarking on a conceptual double-album, Dez Fafara and DevilDriver’s first installment in the pair is a scoop of the, indeed, slightly above average, but unfortunately still plain and predictable modern groove metal they always offer up. I’ll give the band credit for keeping the pace up and clearly putting substantial energy into the performances on this album, while also trying to squeeze in a few shake-ups to their sound, like the clear Gojira-inspired riffage on the opening track. The album loses steam, unfortunately, as its punches lose their impact as it goes on.

6/10

Anaal Nathrakh - Endarkenment

While certainly cultivating a unique sound, Anaal Nathrakh’s unholy fusion of nasty modern blackened grindcore with sweeter metalcore and melodic death metal elements has its mixed results. And while that might at first sound like a relatively critical assessment of the Brits’ eleventh album, I’d say that there is actually a lot to enjoy and take in for at least the interesting mix of styles, most of which are hits rather than misses as well.

7/10

Enslaved - Utgard

Having been a fan of a good amount of their recent output, especially 2015’s In Times, I came out of Utgard moderately disappointed with how infrequently Enslaved galvanized their potent brand of Viking folky, progressive black metal effectively; the few moments the band do channel their strengths cohesively and purposefully left me wanting more rather than savoring those moments.

6/10

In Cauda Venenum - G.O.H.E.

It’s hard to, and indeed seems kind of in just to, sum up a heaping prog metal serving like G.O.H.E., comprised of two 22-minute halves, in a capsule review, but that is kind of the format my current busy circumstances have forced me into. French outfit In Cauda Venenum made a self-titled debut in similar two-long-track fashion back in 2015, and the band’s gothic and somewhat theatrical brand of atmospheric post-black-metal is continued on their sophomore effort here, drawing the obvious comparisons to Opeth and Katatonia, as well as Der Weg Einer Freiheit, Numenorean, and Sólstafir, and apart from the more frequent sample usage and extra drawn-out songs, there really isn’t that much to differentiate In Cauda Venenum stylistically. The band’s second album, unfortunately, resembles so many others in the field with big aspirations and the same inadequate means of getting there.

5/10

Apparition - Granular Transformation

A much more bite-sized early two-track offering, Apparition’s debut EP offers a more promising glimpse into a heady, atmospheric, yet still visceral manipulation of modern death metal that I would be curious to hear in a more long-form format. In a genre as extreme as death metal in recent years has been, finding artists effective at working with negative space can be difficult, but the two songs on Granular Transformation showcase a formidable dexterity from Apparition that I think can take them places.

6/10

Molasses - Through the Hollow

While indeed marred by some rough performances on songs with sometimes more desert to cross than water to make it there, there’s an undeniable occult hypnotism about the Dio-era-esque doom metal hollow that Molasses ritualize their way through.

7/10

Death Angel - Under Pressure

While certainly an odd choice on the surface, Death Angel’s acoustic EP and cover of the famous Queen song actually comes out pretty alright. The acoustic version of Act III’s “A Room with a View” comes off with the energy of something like Rush whenever they went acoustic, and the original acoustic cut, “Faded Remains” isn’t too bad either. The acoustic format did not, however, mask the drabness of “Revelation Song” from last year’s overall disappointment, Humanicide.

6/10

Necrophobic - Dawn of the Damned

The Swedes’ melodic brand of blackened death metal is nothing if not thorough on the quintet’s ninth full-length, Dawn of the Damned, covering all the ground that their fans expect their style to cover and doing so with more compositional and performative stamina than their average contemporary. While the band’s broader compositional approach is akin to the beating of a dead horse, I can’t deny it produces some tasty motifs in the process.

7/10

Bloodbather - Silence

After coming onto the blossoming metallic hardcore scene in 2018 with a standard, but potent enough 14-minute EP, Pressure, Bloodbather are back with another 14 minutes of similar, yet less promising material, doing little to set themselves apart from or on the same level of the likes of Jesus Piece, Vein, Knocked Loose, or Harm’s Way.

5/10

Infera Bruo - Rites of the Nameless

The Bostonians’ fourth full-length is, at the very least, a rather well-executed forty minutes of modern black metal a la Craft or Watain, but beneath the seams the band’s progressive tendencies twist what would otherwise be a fresh, but standard, slab of black metal into a more head-turning offering of the usual shrieks and blast beats.

7/10

Touché Amoré - Lament

While somewhat shaky in their compositional exploration in their fifth LP, the firmness of their emotive post-hardcore foundation allows for Touché Amoré to build upwards relatively steadily without losing that raw vulnerability that has made them so captivating to begin with.

7/10

Gargoyl - Gargoyl

This is the self-titled debut from Bostonian four-piece Gargoyl; a novel blend of dirty nineties grunge and gothic prog metal, Gargoyl come through with one of the more impressive genre fusions of the year, meeting the lofty sufficiency for dexterity with excessive vocal harmonies in a manner so uncanny that would make habe to Layne Stayley proud. While there is the expected room for improvement on the compositional end that many debut projects come with, Gargoyl have laid the groundwork for themselves fantastically and started off on a good foot.

7/10

Crippled Black Phoenix - Ellengæst

Through creative gothic flair and full-bodied guest vocal contributions that bolster the somber atmosphere beyond the typical post-metal album, the UK band’s most recent offering of “endtime ballads”, despite its few low points that undo its otherwise immersive atmosphere, serves as one of the more engaging releases under the broader post-metal umbrella of the past year.

7/10

Wayfarer - A Romance with Violence

The Denver-based quartet follow up 2018’s strong emotive case for the potential for evoking cathartic power of the atmospheric black metal which has so saturated the American scene to the point of numbness, their Americana-tinged third LP, World’s Blood, unfortunately, with a fourth LP whose compositional homogeneity and mere few intermittent bursts of enthralling atmospheric instrumentation more represent, rather than advocate the merit of, the saturation of the American atmospheric black metal scene.

6/10

Armored Saint - Punching the Sky

Though I think the structural homogeneity and John Bush’s similarly limited vocal delivery holds it back, with crunchy bangers like “Do Wrong to None” and “My Jurisdiction” alongside more tempered tracks the clearly grunge-influenced “Lone Wolf”, Bush and company provide a relatively stylistically diverse traditional heavy metal album for an age that could use more contemporary representation of classic styles (beyond the entire stoner metal genre LARPing as Black Sabbath too).

7/10

Spirit Adrift - Enlightened in Eternity

But it's not just the old guard representing their era of classic heavy metal robustly; a year and a half after their energetically melodic third album, Divided by Darkness, which took a triumphant melodic approach to classic heavy metal and doom metal similar to that of Khemmis on their excellent third album, Spirit Adrift ease up a bit on the hyper-soulful approach to guitar melody that had led me (and others I'm sure) to draw the comparison to Khemmis, and instead dive deeper into the headspace of the genre's earliest progenitors to achieve that unabashedly glorious rallying cry that is evoked by the very front cover of Enlightened in Eternity. While I am personally pretty partial to the very vulnerable and heartfelt melodic approach that characterized Divided by Darkness, the effectiveness with which Spirit Adrift are able to wield the sometimes Maiden-esque, sometimes Testament-esque sounds of the 80’s on this album is undeniably impressive.

8/10

Fever 333 - Wrong Generation

Providing the correction to this generation’s answer to Rage Against the Machine (after Prophets of Rage’s insufficient attempted revival) Fever 333 follow up last year’s debut of heavy, fired-up and modern take on rapcore with another 14 minutes of righteous anti-racist hardcore anger that’s attuned to the issues to a level that I wish more artists would at least express in their art. While the EP is 18 minutes long, the last two songs, “The Last Time” and “Supremacy”, don’t match the sonic energy of the first six tracks. The somber piano-led snippet-length ballad, “The Last Time”, should have been the conclusion of the album, but the closing track, “Supremacy”, while as conscious as the tracks before it, is basically a late-stage formulaic Linkin Park track that flatters neither of the two bands. Despite botching the landing though, Wrong Generation is a ripping batch of songs that well represent the current unrest and provide a positive hypothetical idea of what it might be like if Rage Against the Machine were in their prime and active today.

7/10

Mörk Gryning - Hinsides Vrede

The Swedes return from their 15-year disillusioned absence from the studio with a concise and clearly renewed enthusiasm for the energetic black metal that they put forth on Hinsides Vrede. Dynamically bolstered by folk-metal compositional tendencies and more than a dash of that famed Gothenburg melodicism (I know they’re from Stockholm and in fact their melodic approach often does heaven to that of their close neighbors from Uppsala, Watain), Mörk Gryning’s seamless return to music finds them jumping into the modern black metal scene’s advanced compositional rubric with relative ease.

7/10

Zeal & Ardor - Wake of a Nation

Having covered their output since their debut and being a big fan of Manuel Gagneux’ project, it pains me to say, especially given the noble pretext and occasional momentary flashes of sobering messaging, that this six-song mini release really doesn’t capture the unique sonic pallet that has made Zeal & Ardor such an interesting act to listen to for the past few years in the most flattering light. The title track is possibly the least of the offenders here, but all the songs here function by taking a little snippet of sound that samples Zeal & Ardor’s broader stylistic range, and drawing it out across these short, but all too minimally composed tracks in such a way that they lose their momentum very quickly. Like I said, I wholeheartedly appreciate, sympathize with, and support what Manuel Gagneux is doing to lend his band’s platform to the addressing of the dire issue of today’s racism through musical means with this project, and when its social motivation is at the forefront, it’s at its most potent, but musically, unfortunately, it’s just desperately underwritten in a way that doesn’t fairly represent how accomplished Zeal & Ardor really are with their sound.

5/10

Sevendust - Blood & Stone

The flashes of crushing grooves reminiscent of their earlier work on Blood & Stone that highlight how well Sevendust can harness nu/alternative metal to execute pummeling attacks with the right crunchy guitar tone, unfortunately, don’t come frequently enough on their twelfth LP to mirage the exhaustion that has come of the band’s writing process after such frequent, unrelenting output and the all too apparent desperate need for a recalibrating, refreshing break, which they certainly deserve for their tenacity.

5/10

Undeath - Lesions of a Different Kind

In one of those cases where the ridiculously gratuitous album cover actually represents the album’s sound quite well, Rochester, New York five-piece, Undeath mince neither words nor sounds on their debut LP in their 100% upfront, no-nonsense, and wonderfully nasty delivery of death metal. Eschewing even the slightest sense of snobbery or pretense for aimless ambition, the band simply compile the genre’s tried and true elements of bellowing growls, filthy riffs, mean-ass down-tuned chugging, and blood-pumping double-bass with blast beats into an addictive slab of raw, uncured death metal that serves as a testament to the merit of not overthinking shit.

8/10

Griffon - Ὸ Θεός Ὸ Βασιλεύς

On their sophomore LP, Parisian quintet Griffon channel the world innovative ethos that has become rather prominent in their scene into a somewhat short, but definitely sweet offering of modestly ambitious black metal that captures much more effectively than most albums of similar style and lesser imagination, the divine grandeur that the genre so often tries and fails to embody.

8/10

Bring Me the Horizon - Post-Human: Survival Horror

After taking the hard left into current pop music trends very transparently on their controversial, which was at least partially intentional on their part, and ultimately really patchy, but not wholly awful, 2019 album, amo, Oli Sykes and co. walk it back substantially for this smaller release here, back to That's the Spirit, even Sempiternal, a prospect that might get a lot of the band's more long-time, metalcore-centric fans excited, but I would suggest those fans temper their expectations of Post-Human: Survival Horror. The band reunite with the anthemic metalcore/deathcore that put them on the map for a good chunk of this album, and the intro track, "Dear Diary,", might even give some false hope of the prodigal sons returning home. But songs like the cookie-cutter single, "Teardrops", provide strong evidence that, while the band have re-embraced their old aesthetic, they have not kicked the pop vocal or compositional habits. And the project really does run out of energy in its final third because of this compositional homogeneity. I do want to highlight the song, "Kingslayer", which features a very in-form Babymetal (I loved their album last year), because their fun, not-so-serious approach to the crossing of J-pop and metal music in their feature on this track among the other songs around it provides a contrast to the more formulaic, disinterested radio pop swagger that Bring Me the Horizon have been trying to jam into their sound that could perhaps inform Bring Me the Horizon's artistic approach to integrating pop music if they really are so hellbent on doing so. Ultimately though, as much as they want to move into newer territory, this trajectory-revising release shows just how much more solid Bring Me the Horizon are in their metalcore territory than they were on amo. It had its predictable hiccups, but this thing wasn't too bad.

7/10

Pallbearer - Forgotten Days

With the slow, sludgy, down-tuned riffing of the menacing opening title track and the similar chug of “Vengeance & Ruination” being the sole exceptions, the remainder of Pallbearer’s fouth full-length largely sees them operating in the same niche they have in their three previous albums. And while this could invoke accusations of playing it safe, the brimming heartfelt sorrow and resistance to succumbing to despair across Forgotten Days is enough to wave that away, as Pallbearer showcase just how emotive doom metal can be.

8/10

Bleeding Out - Lifelong Death Fantasy

The very new act and fresh Profound Lore signing, Bleeding Out, certainly display more dynamic capability than your average local grindcore scene’s biggest names here on their 18-minute debut for the label, but as of now it is still just a glimpse of potential for more effective future implementation. It’s a good start, though, and I’ll be looking forward to a more long-form project from these guys.

6/10

Evildead - United States of Anarchy

Every year we get the resurrection of some long-inactive old-school band who seem to have found that missing spark at last; we’ve seen the return of smaller bands to the studio like Angel Witch or Sorcerer and long-awaited revivals of iconic acts like Possessed. This year, Los Angeles’ Evildead has seen fit to make their commentary on the massive ongoing sociopolitical upheaval. Despite my love for the 80’s thrash scene they were born out of, the combination of the utterly lame band name, logo, and covers for either their ‘89 or ‘91 albums never really made me want to check them out, but seeing the horridly cheesy and incoherent cover of United States of Anarchy (I mean how much more on-the-nose can you get), my morbid curiosity got the best of me. Maybe I’d be wrong to have judged them by their cover, plenty of my favorite 80’s albums have particularly goofy cover art. So what do we get from Evildead in 2020 with this fucking album? Well, it’s not as poorly performed as the past few Anvil albums I’ve had to review have been, but Jesus the lyricism is similarly cheesy 5th-grade-level stuff and smacks of silly political incoherence that essentially boils down to “enlightened centrism” with mix of that good ol’ Illuminati-conspiracy-theory belief that no political thrash album is apparently complete without. I mean there’s just basic acknowledgment of the prominent problems of the day and the fact that both major political parties are bad and that corruption is rampant all throughout DC, but Evildead not only barely scratch the surface, they apply the same level cynicism to the “both sides” they criticize with no substantiation to their criticism despite that mindset being a big reason for our being where we are right now, mixed in with the occasional conspiracy-paranoia about the shadowy underworld running everything, so no real solutions or even proper addressing of these problems. Like, the same level of criticism is levied at right-wingers and communists, like communists are at all why this country has gone to shit. And the generic Anthrax/Megadeth type of thrash instrumentation, while rumbly and mixed well to highlight its bass heaviness, doesn’t exactly make it easy to get past the commentary deficiencies on here.

4/10

Emma Ruth Rundle & Thou - May Our Chambers Be Full

Rounding off their year (at least I think), with a long-teased collaboration with Emma Ruth Rundle, Thou finally present their massive sludge-doom sound in a much more flattering light than the previous cover albums this year did. Thou's original material continues to highlight just why their relatively stiff sound is much more cut out for that, original material, than for trying to bend beyond its flexibility to tribute grunge songs. And while Thou being back in their more effective department, Emma Ruth Rundle's contributions, beyond just her gorgeous and ethereally haunting vocals, to the album's atmosphere, dynamic, and structuring really take the collaboration to the next level. Not to say that Thou are completely overshadowed and relegated to the background on this record or that they don't contribute to a fair share of the legwork here; the workload is shared pretty equally, and both collaborators have their moments of prominence, but Emma Ruth Rundle's ever-present gothic/folky influence really directs the music in a way that plays to Thou's strengths in a way I'm not sure they would have been able to on their own. It's great work from both of them, and I'd be eager to hear Thou find more collaborations like this in the future that push them into doing more interesting things with their crushing doom sound, as opposed to the rather tepid collaborations with The Body.

8/10

Auðn - Vökudraumsins Fangi

Sadly, three albums in, Auðn have only barely exceeded the bare minimum for naturalistic atmospheric black metal, with no signs of significant improvement to be found. The Icelandic band earn points for their earnest delivery, but they never seem to fully make it out of the rut that the genre’s many contemporary acts have dug.

5/10

Botanist - Photosynthesis

The black metal traditionalists might have had to accept that the floodgates to bright ambience and serene shoegaze in the genre have been opened and that there's no going back now, but even as an avid Deafheaven fan, I'm sometimes momentarily surprised at just how heavenly some black metal has gotten lately, and this new album from Botanist is one of those albums. And while it sometimes slips into some of the current wave's typical ruts, the sheer blindingly illuminating aura of this album when it reaches those high points (and it does so frequently) is enough to pull it out from those gutters and high into the cosmos. Yeah, another splendid offering of nature worship from Botanist.

8/10

Mr. Bungle - The Raging Wrath of the Easter Bunny Demo

Making their return after over a decade, Mike Patton recruits both Dave Lombardo and Scott Ian for the long-awaited fourth Mr. Bungle album, which is titled in homage to the first Mr. Bungle demo which it is comprised largely of much clearer re-recordings of. Ever impressive, Mike Patton balances aggression and eccentricity like a tightrope walker on this project too, while his bandmates do the same with thrash metal’s natural adrenaline rush while pushing the genre into new compositional and stylistic territory without sacrificing that crucial whiplash. It’s a great time, and definitely one of the year’s best thrash albums.

8/10

Carcass - Despicable

While they've been much less prolific since their reboot than they were prior, Liverpool's melodic death metal pioneers simply continue to demonstrate their excellence in this seemingly effortless four-track appetizer to next year's Torn Arteries. Anyone familiar with the band's brutal form of melodic death metal will certainly be pleased with the four quite sufficiently pulverizing cuts here; those who may only be familiar with some of the band's many less muscular imitators might be surprised, and pleasantly so, with the Englanders' ability to lay on the infectious guitar melody without sacrificing an ounce of force.

8/10

[bone-ifiedcryptid]

GodDAMN I’ve gotta get back into the groove of drawing more frequently

I’ve had bad burnout for more than a year where I could only do like one drawing a month, but now that my mental health is getting better and my living situation has improved immensely I’ve been drawing a bit more, which is great!!

The only thing is that I don’t wanna throw myself into burnout while I’m getting out of it, so I’m just kind of taking it slow I guess? But I’m still trying to draw more frequently because I seriously need to fine tune my drawing skills, regardless of whether I’m drawing digitally or traditionally lmao.

I dunno, maybe I could do sketch requests or something to help me get into drawing more frequently(and also not spend too much time making everything “perfect”)? But I also wanna play around with color palettes bc they’re so pretty 😔

[spritewrites]

like children

Fandom: Shades of Magic (by V.E. Schwab)

Characters: Kell Maresh & Rhy Maresh

Word Count: 2055

“Go away. I’m working on a strategy.”

It was late afternoon when Kell said it, but he still hadn’t changed out of his bedclothes. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t quite remember when the last time he’d changed his clothes was. His blue eye was red with exhaustion, and his reddish hair was sticking up at odd angles - he’d been running his fingers through it. Thirty-six hours awake isn’t ideal for anybody, magic or not.

“For what?”

Rhy was laying on his bed, idly picking at the bedcovers. He had the cool, measured tone that Kell recognized, the one that made the frustration rise in his throat. It was the tone Rhy always adopted when Kell stayed up too long. The one he used when he was trying to convince him of something, something he didn’t think he’d like. Such as calming down. Or eating. Or sleeping.

“For the games.”

Rhy barked out a laugh. “The Essen Tasch? Saints, Kell, why? I entered you to be a stress reliever, not so you could run yourself into the ground!”

A fist clenched around the edge of his parchment, wrinkling the corner. It took a moment for Kell to realize that it was his. He cleared his throat, smoothing the paper back out as best he could. Rhy didn’t need to worry about him, on top of all his responsibilities with the competition.

“If I’m going to compete,” he replied, “I’d prefer not to be humiliated in my own city.”

The stray piece of thread that Rhy had been tugging at came loose. “You’re the most powerful magician in Arnes, probably in the whole world. None of the other champions can compete with an Antari. Your win is… inevitable.”

“You flatter me.”

Rhy laughed at that. “Trust me, brother, I don’t intend to do anything of the kind.”

Kell groaned, trying to steady his voice before Rhy can realize exactly how exhausted he was. It couldn’t work, he knew. The only reason Rhy was here was because he could feel that bone-aching tiredness in their bond.

“Still. I should be doing research. Practicing. Alone.” His voice dropped slightly, almost imperceptibly. “I’ve never worked with only one element before.”

Rhy’s eyes were lit with amusement, and something else. Something sadder. “Well. You’ll have to… hold back, then. So, there’s not much need to study. You can rest.” A hint of mischief grew in his smile. “Besides, you’ll need all your strength if you go up against Alucard Emery.”

Kell felt his cheeks grow hot, his mild scowl deepening into a frown. His classic look, and he knew even before Rhy opened his mouth that his brother would tease him for it, but for all his secrets, he could never hide his feelings from him. Besides, anything he felt, Rhy would feel too. Inevitability again.

“Ah, come, is my favorite brother feeling a little self-destructive?” Rhy teased, leaning up on his elbows. His black hair shone in the light, painting the perfect picture of an innocent angel. Kell nearly snorted. Anything but.

“If you’re only going to distract me, then I don’t recommend sticking around. There’s the door.” A gust of wind ruffled Rhy’s robes on its path to fling the chamber door open. Kell turned back to his papers, ignoring the grumbling he could hear from the prince’s direction.

The leash he was tethered to here at the castle felt shorter than ever, and Rhy’s relentless presence was a symptom of that tether. He could remember a time, not so very long ago, when his frequent travels as the crown’s Antari had kept his time with Rhy short. Perhaps too short. His thoughts would drift often to his carefree brother, envious both of his position and his weightlessness as he waltzed through Red London society, blind to the true depth of the responsibilities that Kell held. During those times, he had often wished to be able to be closer to Rhy, like they had been as children, siphoning off some of his easy charm and wit. Now, he thought ruefully, he wished dearly that his brother would go away.

Kell was snapped from his thoughts by a hard pinch at the back of his neck. He cursed, spinning to fume at his brother. “I thought I told you to get out and stop bothering me!”

Rhy hadn’t moved – he was lazing on his back, hands tucked behind his head and wearing a grin that spoke only of mischief. Saints, Kell was familiar with that grin. Stupid bond.

“You did. But you seemed unfocused. I figured I’d draw your attention back to your… work.”

“You’re a menace.”

“I knew what I was doing,” Rhy replied easily. He rolled onto his stomach, clutching a satin-edged pillow to his chest and kicking his bare feet. “Truthfully, I wanted to spend some time with my favorite brother. Since, of course, you’re not busy. Not busy doing anything healthy, anyway.”

Kell rolled his eyes. “You’re acting like a child.”

One of Rhy’s eyebrows quirked up with almost a mind of its own. His curly head dropped into something like a bow, and he adopted his most regal voice, the one he reserved for the high court.

“Forgive me, Master Kell, for my insolence. Please, continue your work. I shan’t disturb you again.”

This time Kell did snort, a gruff, low sound that hurt his throat. He didn’t think that was supposed to hurt. Come to think of it, a lot of him was hurting right now. Rhy probably felt it too. Maybe sleep would be welcome.

He’d scarcely had the thought when he felt something large and soft hit the back of his neck. He reeled to see his brother casually staring up at the ceiling, feigning innocence, and one of his pillows on the floor. Kell narrowed his eyes, but Rhy refused to look at him. He was actually humming. Ass.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Hm?” Rhy replied, sliding his gaze over to Kell’s furious glare.

“You’re going to try to wear me out, so I have to sleep.”

“Oh, am I?”

Rhy sounded amused. Kell fought the urge to set the bed on fire, just to see his brother jump. He settled on rolling his eyes.

“It’s not going to work.”

“It isn’t?”

“I’m impervious to your efforts to distract me.”

“Ah, you are?”

“I am as immovable as a Veskan warrior.”

“I see.”

“So. There’s really no need to try. And you can just leave me be.”

Rhy grinned, eerie and catlike, a grin that made the hair on the back of Kell’s neck stand on end. Sanct.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

The shriek that Kell let out as his brother launched at him would have been quite embarrassing, had it not been disguised by the screech of chair legs against the stone floor when they both toppled over. Instantly, Kell’s wrists were in Rhy’s grasp, and he grunted and squirmed as best he could, but the crown prince was heavier than he looked.

“Get off,” he wheezed, heating up his palms and trying to grab at where Rhy’s hands held him firm – not enough to burn, just enough to make him let go – but he couldn’t quite reach. His heels scrabbled against the wooden floor, and distantly he could hear Rhy chuckling. Kell felt his face grow hot with rage and embarrassment at being so easily overtaken. The absolute bastard.

In a desperate effort, Kell filled his lungs and blew out a huge gust of magical wind, lifting his brother off of him, but also scattering his papers in a tornado around the room. No matter. He’d gather them back up when he wasn’t fighting for his life.

“No fair using magic!”

Kell knew how to wrestle with Rhy. He’d had practice. In recent years he’d sometimes been called upon to act as his sparring partner during Rhy’s combat lessons, but he’d been rolling over the grooved stone of the halls of this palace with his brother since before he could remember.

Unfortunately, Rhy had had the same practice. He managed to get an arm around Kell’s knees, but Kell still had the upper hand, most of his wriggling body still free, and he couldn’t quite pin his legs down for the kicking. Kell tugged at Rhy’s elbow, trying to dislodge the vice-like grip, but suddenly found himself with a face full of the same pillow that had hit his back before.

Kell yelped, twisting to try to escape over the bed, grasping desperately at his slipping sheets in an effort to climb away. Unfortunately, Rhy was Rhy, and when it came to these fights, when it came to Kell, Rhy was merciless. He’d scarcely made it over the edge of the mattress when he felt his younger brother at his back, grabbing at his waist and laughing breathlessly with the sheer energy of the fight.

Kell was laughing too, sort of, trying to fight it, so it was coming out more as huffs through gritted teeth. Rhy looked absolutely delighted at this development, much to Kell’s chagrin. Part of the game, at least as it was originally played, was Kell trying to maintain his mask of dignity. Laughing wasn’t part of it. Not ideally, anyway. His body sometimes had other ideas. Especially when Rhy was looking up at him like that, so adoringly, so carefree. The giddiness of it all was hard to fight.

And Rhy knew it.

The prince managed to sneak a hand under his brother’s shirt and dig into his sides, exactly where he knew Kell was horribly ticklish. Any other time, Kell would have shrugged him off easily and scolded him for his ridiculous, childish behavior. But his utter exhaustion made his nerves sing, and, to his horror, he broke into hoarse, helpless giggles. Rhy’s smile widened, and at first that made Kell struggle harder – Smug bastard, he thought – flipping onto his back to shove at the prince’s ruthless fingers, the ones that knew exactly where to prod to get the best reactions.

But then he saw that look on Rhy’s face. It was everything that he always wanted to see – joy, mischief, humor, love. Everything he was always looking for when he gazed into those honey-brown eyes. He couldn’t deny Rhy that, not now. So, despite his natural instincts, Kell stopped fighting, falling back against the sheets and resigning himself to full-out laughter just as evil hands crawled their way up to his ribs.

“Do you yield?” teased Rhy, fighting back laughter of his own as he tried to tune out the mirrored (albeit faint) echoes of sensation on his own body.

Kell tried to speak, he really did, but it’s awful hard to get out a coherent sentence when your not-so-little brother is tickling you to pieces. Finally, he managed a nod, and Rhy mercifully rolled off of him to collapse onto the foot of the bed, a huge grin on his face.

“F-fuck you,” Kell choked, clutching his stomach and gasping for air.

Rhy chuckled. “Feeling tired yet?”

Kell swatted weakly at him, still leaking giggles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The creases around Rhy’s eyes softened a little. “You don’t laugh like that anymore.”

For a moment, Kell simply felt his breath enter and leave his lungs, listening to the wind whistle outside the window. He could lay here forever like this. Then he took Rhy’s hand.

“No. No, I don’t.”

For a while, the two brothers lay beside one another, catching their breath and staring up into the dark fabric that covered the ceiling. If you unfocused your eyes enough, Kell thought, you could almost imagine yourself soaring into that inky blackness, dodging between the stars.

“Hey, Kell?”

A sigh through his nose. “Yeah?”

“…Never mind.” Rhy’s voice was small. Kell held his breath. For a second, he was certain that if he turned to look at his brother, he would see him exactly as he’d been that night after he’d rescued him from the Shadows. He squeezed his hand.

“Rhy?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you.” For cheering me up. For knowing me well enough to know that I need cheering up. For the Essen Tasch. For being my brother.

“You’re welcome.”

They stayed like that for a long time, long after Kell fell asleep.