#‘he’s annoying’ which isn’t even a crime you just don’t like him. and most of the reasons for why he’s annoying are his autistic traits

[chebyshevptera]

Jay haters have to scavenge for reasons to hate him and i think that’s hilarious. some of you just straight up lie

[reignpage]

Frat Boy!Gojo

Old Fashioned: swallow that bitter taste

Word Count: 2.7k Contents: angst, cursing, some dark themes, which include slut shaming, abuse, both physical and verbal, threat of violence, not proofread

The beep beep beep that echoes around the empty, dusty room strikes at your equally empty and equally dusty heart. You try to visit the hospital as often as your schedule permits, but these days, with all the wedding preparations, you could really only dedicate an hour every Thursday, between lectures. 

It’s pathetic. He deserves better than this half-hearted display of love and guilt, the natural combination. If he was awake, he’d undoubtedly make a snarky comment about how the wilting flowers you can barely afford is a representation of your friendship going down the drain because he obviously deserves more than carnations, of all flowers. 

Oh, how you wish he could tell you off right now. 

“Hi, Asahi. You’re looking shittier than last time,” you muse with a chuckle, a shaky smile pulling at your lips. 

There he is, lying in some drab hospital gown, tucked all nice and warm in a rigid bed, with only you, a dull lump of black lace as his only company. He can’t roll his eyes at your pitiful tone or fire back some insult about how your eyeliner is far too thick for your eyes and you more closely resembles a panda than any sexy vampire you’ve been trying to simulate. 

“Remember the boy I’ve been telling you about? Well, we got into a bit of a disagreement the other night. I don’t know, I guess he got fed up with this play acting thing we’re doing. And I don’t really blame him, y’know? We’re barely adults and we’re getting married. Isn’t that crazy? God, I wish you could be there, you can laugh at me and throw rice or confetti or whatever it is they do nowadays. Maybe even purposefully get it in my eye, knowing you.”

No reply. 

Just like all those times before, there is never a reply, only a beep beep beeping that drives you crazy and you can never seem to tune out, try as you might. Sometimes, at night, you hear that mocking sound hooking itself into your spine and carrying you away from the guiltless comfort of sleep.

With a sigh, you carry on. “Well, anyways, I think you’d really like him. He’s a little stupid. Okay, maybe a lot stupid, but I don’t know, I think it’s endearing. He has these annoying eyes that are just so bright and God, do you ever just wanna rip off someone’s eyes and stomp on them because they’re too dazzling? ‘Cause I do. Every time, I look at his. And his laugh. Oh, God. You won’t believe it. It’s the most obnoxious sound in the entire world. I actually get nightmares, I swear. He laughs like he doesn’t care how loud he is, like he thinks people should laugh more, like it’s a crime not to find laughing easy. What an idiot, right?”

You don’t mention how since that evening, he hasn’t blown up your phone like he usually does, in fact you received no notifications from him at all. Within the first hour or two, you thought he still needed some space, and you understood. But then as hours turned into a whole night, then a whole morning, then a day and another, you started to think that maybe, just maybe, he’ll never text you again. 

And can you blame him?

He wasn’t wrong, about him being used. From the very beginning, he always represented wealth and what that can bring. Surely, he was aware that even if people did genuinely like him for who he is, the strength of his name, of what courses through his blood, will always hang in the air, this infinite void shielding him from everyone who tries to get too close only to end up further and further away. 

“I think I should apologise and give him that second date he’s been begging me for. Yeah, actually begging. I told you he’s stupid.” Your voice is trailing off, a slight wobble that you can’t seem to command away. “I think I hurt his feelings. I know, surprise surprise. But I just can’t help but feel like, out of everyone involved in this thing, he’s the least deserving, y’know? Ugh, I’ll talk to the guy when I run into him on campus — he’s kinda hard to miss.”

Even paralysed and in a coma, you’re certain Asahi can tell you aren’t convincing yourself with the fake bravado. Truthfully, you’re not sure you could bring yourself to mutter an apology. No, it isn’t that. You can’t bring yourself to come face to face with him, lest you see something that doesn’t quite match up with your vision of a sincere expression of happiness, at seeing you.

Fiddling with a loose thread on your dress, you pull it taut, tighter and tighter, until it snaps. 

“Here again?”

Your head snaps back. 

“Mother, w-what are you doing here?”

Beep beep beep.

She waltzes in, clasping her snakeskin handbag closer to her, as if the cramped room would snatch it off her manicured hands. Burgundy pencil skirt clashing with her neon blouse, those staple bright red lips curl into something that makes you gulp. You don’t dare bring up the fact that she desperately needs a stylist — that is the least of your issues.  

Pursing her lips, her disapproving eyes roves over your body, before she scoffs and looks away, focusing instead on a framed print photo of tomato soup cans in all sorts of colours. You shuffle in your seat, the plastic squeaking. 

“You’ve disappointed me once again,” she begins, settling her bag on the table where your flowers droop over the vase. You recognise this tone of hers, the one that’s too calm, too flat to ever mean anything other than trouble. “You were given one task and one task only, and somehow, either by natural ineptitude or wilful rebellion, you’ve failed at something so simple. Goodness, what ever did happen to that brain of yours?”

It’s clear she isn’t here to chat about the weather, so you stand up, pulling a glove further up your wrist and exhale as quietly as you can. 

“Now, mother, I know the dinner didn’t end very well, but he just needs a second to cool down and then he’ll be on board again. I’ll go on another date with him and show him we can work together. I’ll fix it, I swear.”

Her glare pierces you, forcing you to stumble back. 

Scoffing, she waves a hand in the air. “‘Fix it?’ You will fix it? God, Y/N. It is not the time for your sarcastic little jokes. You can’t fix anything. You proved that the other night with whatever you had texted him as we made plans for your wedding.”

“Y-you knew?”

The laugh that escapes her lacks any real joy — the only one she’s capable of. Cold, mocking and scathing, you can do nothing but wince under its weight. 

“It’s hard to not notice you typing away under the table like some whore playing footsie! I raised you better than that, no? Where did all those etiquette lessons go anyways? Hmm? It’s certainly not towards your uncouth behaviour. Goodness, look at you. You’re in your final year of university and you still haven’t matured.”

When she gets into these rants, there’s no stopping her. You learnt that when she snapped at you for tripping on your own dress in front of a ballroom of people at the age of eight, and at twelve when she overheard you use a swear word with a friend. 

“Still bumbling about, pretending to be indifferent and nihilistic, like some child playing dress up. And what have I said about this all black look? You look ridiculous and not to mention hideous. When are you going to grow out of this phase? You couldn’t even lose those repulsive piercings? Even just for a couple dinners? Maybe if you did, the Gojos would have been more keen to welcome you into their family.”

Beep beep beep.

She continues, taking a step closer towards you, and you feel the room get smaller like the walls are shifting in, “We had him. Him and the rest of his family in the palm of our hands. You were so close to marrying him and fixing all our problems and then you ruined it. This is all your fault.”

Your mother’s voice grows louder, pitchier, more shrill, and you clutch your dress tight in your fists. She’s been drinking. You don’t know how you didn’t notice until now but she reeks of alcohol. Perhaps, the natural smell of death and deep levels of sanitation that permeates the air of this hospital masked that scent of hers she never bothered to try to shake off. 

“Why couldn’t you just be a good girl, hmm?” Her hand reaches for your face and you flinch. Ice cold, her touch brings the hairs on the back of your neck to a standstill. It’s been many years since she had last touched you, in any kind of soft, maternal way at least, and this foreign feeling leaves you holding your breath. 

“Why couldn’t you just give him what he wanted? Flirt a little, flash him a smile, slide those legs and let him take what he needed. Anything! Anything to make him yours. The way I did with your father.”

Falling to your chest, her hand curls, digging itself into your dress and you stagger forward with her powerful yank. You gasp. And then, eyes wide, you clutch your heart, watching the lace collar that had once been a part of you dangle in her grasp. She casts it aside. 

A cry rises up her throat, like bile, and she spews it at you. “Boys like him only want one thing, my dear. Do you know what it is? Did I ever teach you?”

Her nails are sharp. 

You notice that as she leans forward, skimming them against your cheek once more. Clammy, you feel the material of your gloves stick to your skin and you feel a sudden itch to keep it on even in death. There’s no one here. Nurses rarely come to check up on this room, not when the patient has so little wants and needs. And there’s not anyone you can text and call, no one who’d understand, who’d come at the drop of a hat.

“Answer me!” 

She wrenches your sleeve in a blur, her movements jerky and sudden and too unpredictable. That too falls to the ground, lifeless. 

Beep beep beep.

Bottom lip quivering, you stammer out, “S-sex?”

You feel the burn of your cheek before you hear the sound of her palm strike you. And you sob with her, just as she soothes the skin with a cooing sound. Her expression softens and for a second, no more and no less, she actually looks like a mother. 

“No, my dear. All boys, whether that Gojo boy’s age or your father’s, want thrill. They’ll seek it anywhere. If not from their wives, then from common whores, or from sports cars, or violence, or casinos, like your daddy — it’s why we needed you to marry that boy, remember? We have no money, our family’s fortune is scattered in the vaults of seedy casinos all over the city. We needed their money, to get back to where we used to be. They were our last chance.”

“L-last? B-but the wedding’s still happening, isn’t it?”

Was that even your voice? 

It sounded so meek, so frail, so young. 

“No, dear.” Her smile is sharp, one corner stabbing into your heart and the other twisting. “This morning, your little fiancé went to the press and informed them that you two were so-called victims of a forced engagement and would like the public’s support to maintain your ‘liberty’. The Gojos have already begun doing damage control, claiming that you broke up with him and he’s a classic college student — drunk and seeking revenge. So that’s that of your love story. Such a shame.”

Beep beep beep.

“B-but he wouldn’t. No, he wants to be with me, h-he just needed some time to cool down.”

You’re running out of breath, you can feel it seeping out of your lungs. It’s too tight in here, there are too many machines making all sorts of noises, and you just need air, you need something, anything. There’s nothing to clutch, nowhere to lean against, and when you turn to the one other person there, the eyes you wish would look at you aren’t. 

Beep beep beep.

There’s simply no way Satoru would go to the media. No, he was finally accepting the marriage, accepting you. You were so sure of it. It was clear as day in his eyes. You could even feel it pulse in that minuscule gap between you when he had fitted your gloves back onto your hands. 

He can’t be done with you. 

He just can’t. 

Beep beep beep.

Holding up a bedpan, she inspects her face in the reflection and her lips purse once more. Taunting, she giggles. “Oh, but all women learn eventually that time does nothing for us.”

She’s ran out of steam, much faster than she usually does, and even though parts of your dress lay in tatters on the hospital floor, you feel fortunate that she hadn’t decided to rip out your heart instead. You’re not sure she’d find anything in your chest cavity anyways. 

Detached once more, she slurs with bewildering high, “Don’t look so devastated, goodness. You’ll forget all about that Gojo boy soon. You must. Because you’ll be marrying into the Zenins. A nice, young man, just a little older than you. I believe his name is Naoya.”

The blood drains from your body. 

“No,” you gasp out. “No, mother. I can’t. H-he’s abusive. You know this. Everyone knows this. He’s sadistic and cruel a-and —“

Beep beep beep.

“And he’s on the market looking for a wife.” She cuts you a look, one that forces your mouth shut. It’s a talent of hers. “The Zenins reached out. Apparently, whatever’s good enough for the Gojo’s is good enough for them. What great luck, wouldn’t you agree, my dear?”

Beep beep beep.

You’ve heard stories of how he used women like dolls, dressing them up and tearing them down as he pleased. There’s always scandals and blind items making rounds online about girls he’d left battered and bruised, disoriented and silenced by copious amounts of money. A man like him would never love you. He’d never even respect you. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew it would turn out like this. Having met the man once, at some yacht, a couple years ago, you recall the pure repulsion in his eyes when you bumped into him. He saw the beginnings of your true style coming in, like adult teeth, and something flashed in his eyes. A recognition of your rarity in these parts. A sparkle of challenge. A barely restrained desire. 

You could never forget the way he had looked at you — you were a trophy at the end of a marathon and there was a spot in his collection waiting just for you. 

Like a fool, a naive, pathetic little fool, you thought you had outran him. That, in the arms of another man, a stronger, richer man, you’d be safe. But that man doesn’t want anything to do with you. 

You’re alone.

Beep beep beep.

Sighing, she makes a tutting sound and focuses back on you. “I did say to behave, no? I told you it was in our best interest that you drag that boy up to the altar no matter what, and you failed your duty as a daughter. This is the consequences of your actions, dear. But despite your frightening appearance, you’re still desired. How nice. So, smile, yes? You’re getting married, after all.”

A machine flatlines. It’s not Asahi’s heart who fails and dies right there and then. You don’t even hear anything but that incessant beeeeeeeeeeeeep that knocks you back into your seat, jaw slack and cheek stinging.

“When?”

She smiles again. 

“Tomorrow!”

[hyperfixationhobo]

LADS Headcanons Pt 2!!!

—————————————————————

Wooooo! Part two baby! I’m so happy you guys loved my last headcannon post!!! I hope you like this one as well!!!

Xavier:

. Says wholesome stuff in the most fucked up way possible.

. “I just wanna carve out a hole next to your heart and squeeze in it.”

. “I wanna live in your lungs so I can be the air that you breathe.”

. “The stars look gorgeous in your eyes, I wanna pluck them out and frame them.”

. Says this shit with the most innocent face.

. You made a smiley face on his pancakes once and he refuses to eat them without a smiley face on them.

. Absolutely thinks your mad at him when you don’t put a smiley face on his pancakes.

. Make it a frowny face and he knows he fucked up.

. I read somewhere that he mostly sleeps on his stomach and he most definitely sleeps with his butt semi in the air.

. Mostly it’s from a stray pillow that somehow managed to get under his hips.

Zayne:

. Obsessed with your heart in a wholesome way.

. He’s scared of not finding the cure for you so he constantly tries to feel your heartbeat.

. Hand pressed against your chest, your back, pulse points on your wrist and neck he just wants to make sure it’s beating.

. Let him sleep with his head on your chest so he can hear your heartbeat and he’ll truly relax.

“Just need to make sure you’re ok.”

. Has chilled sodas with his hands for Xavier.

. Bought those hand warm up bag things once.

. Now a cabinet fully stacked with them.

. Has a ton of onesies hidden somewhere in his closet.

. I think he adores jams, specifically strawberry and peach jams.

Rafayel:

. Much like how I think Zayne’s hand will be naturally cold, Rafayel’s hand would be naturally warm cause y’know, fire.

. Very sensitive when it comes to the cold, always has his studio at like 72 degrees.

. Hates winter just cause of the cold.

. I like to think his legs would be strong as hell.

. “Hey MC! Wanna see me crush a watermelon between my thighs?”

. Solid abs and strong core too cause of how mermaids swim.

. Legs are definitely more sensitive cause he’s used to having a tail and now the sensations are doubled.

. Does that fire trick thing you see where it looks like he breathes fire.

. Has almost burned his hair while doing said trick.

. I personally think that this mermaid boy can’t handle eating oysters.

Sylus:

. Can’t ice skate for shit, always falls on his ass.

. Holds a lot of respect for Zayne since the man is your doctor.

. I think he does little annoying things but isn’t aware of it cause nobody has ever told him.

. Let’s be honest no one wants to go up to this crime overlord and be like “Hey, your finger tapping is annoying can you please stop?”

. Has a very secret soft spot for Rafayel. Will never admit it, in fact he’ll happily chip off his arm to deny it.

. I like to think that Sylus enjoys spoiling those he’s close with and Rafayel most definitely likes being spoiled.

. It works perfectly.

. Walks around in nothing but a towel to grab your attention.

. Such an attention whore.

. Will cough up blood in the middle of a fight and worry that he isn’t at the right angle to make himself look attractive for you.

Bonus: Luke and Kieran!!!:

. Ok so a very personal headcanon about these two bird babies is that they’re actually brown skinned with gray fluffy hair and red eyes. Maybe it’s cause I’m black and I want to see more people of color in the game which I know is very unlikely, but it’s how I like imagining them.

. I like to think that they’re Aro/Ace cause it’s said they can feel whatever the other is feeling and even see out of each others eyes but we’re not given the limit of that ability but we know they can’t just switch it off.

. It’ll be weird that when your twin kisses his partner and you feel it as well. And very very awkward if it goes farther than that.

. They love pulling pranks on MC, much to MC’s dismay.

. They get overstimulated easily, constantly feeling, hearing, and seeing what your twin sees is a lot.

. Sylus bought them noise canceling headphones and weighted blankets to help them through these rough patches.

. Absolutely love cheese burgers. Luke’s likes his without pickles and Kieran likes pickles on his.

. Secretly feed Mephisto tiny bits of human food like fries and popcorn.

. Can’t sleep in separate rooms from one another.

. They were experimented on so it makes since they will feel most safe when they’re able to see the other and know that they’re close.

[deadsetobsessions]

Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

F

E

L

L.

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

[gothamite-rambler]

Barbara telling her father she's batgirl

this was before she was paralyzed and before Jason died

Barbara: Dad, I have something to tell you.

Jim: Oh God, you're back with Dick, aren't you? My heart can't take it, but I can try to—

Barbara (laughing): No, Dad, don’t worry. He’s still too much of a player and way too annoying for me.

Jim sighed in relief.

Jim: Thank the Lord. If it’s not that, then what is it that you need to tell me?

Barbara: This is… going to be a lot, I imagine. I know I’m your daughter, and you’ve had to deal with people like Batman and Robin. They’re a handful, but I can assure you I’m not being reckless with this new part of my life.

Jim (jokingly): Are you… a hooker?

Barbara: What the actual fuck, Dad?!

Jim: Sorry, sorry! I’m just messing around. Tell me this big secret; I think I can handle it.

Barbara nodded, taking a deep breath to prepare herself.

Barbara (talking fast): Okay, you’re going to freak out, but I can’t keep this secret any longer, especially since you’re my dad and I love you. I’m Batgirl. Like, the Batgirl. Although there’s only one Batgirl as of now— it’s me.

Jim sat silently as Barbara paused to catch her breath. His eyes shifted for a moment before he tilted his head, raising an eyebrow.

Jim: And?

Barbara: That’s it. You’re not really reacting. I’m guessing there’s a delay, which I get. Look, I know this is a lot to take in. I promise I’ve been safe—

Jim: Barbara.

Barbara: Yes, yes, I know you doubt the fabulous Batgirl you’ve seen is me. I have the suit in my closet, and I’ve been kicking ass since I became a hero!

Jim: Barbara.

Barbara: Dad, you’re going to say you want me to stop being her. That me being Batgirl is crazy, and you’re worried I’m shacking up with Nightwing or something. I’m not! You’ve told me that even though you see Batman as a friend, you aren’t keen on vigilantes, but—

Jim (interrupting): Barbara, I already knew you were Batgirl!

Barbara stopped talking, staring at her father in shock. He smiled warmly and took her hand to help her calm down.

Jim: I figured it out two years ago. I panicked and was trying to figure out how to convince you to stop. I even prayed to God about it—literally stepped into a church, worried about whether you’d make it home or, God forbid, get hurt or killed. I still worry about that.

Jim paused, looking down at his daughter’s hand, unsure what to say next. When he spoke, his voice trembled slightly.

Jim: Then I remembered the strength you’ve displayed as Batgirl and outside of that suit. I've seen you fight alongside Batman. You’ll always be my baby girl, but I won’t control what you do. If you want to fight crime in a leather suit, I’ll support you. You spending time with a man in a leather bat suit…well, that’s not the greatest thing to witness, but I know you can protect yourself. Most importantly, I will always love you and pray for your safety. So relax—I’m not disowning you or locking you in a tower.

Barbara (stammering): I… You… You’ve known this the entire time and didn’t say anything?

Jim: Yeah, I’m pretty good at keeping secrets and investigating stuff.

Barbara smiled, initially laughing, then hugged her dad, sobbing softly in relief and happiness but still reeling from his response.

Barbara: You kept that secret from me while I kept the fact I’m Batgirl from you. You are crazy.

Jim (patting Barbara on the back with a smile): Yeah, you got some of the crazy from me. Oh, and this is a shot in the dark, but I’m pretty sure I’m right about this—Dick is Nightwing, isn’t he?

Barbara (between giggles): Right on the money.

Jim: And you’re not shacking up with him anymore?

Barbara: Oh God, Dad. No, we’re not together anymore.

Barbara stepped back, wiping her eyes.

Barbara: That’s the last thing to focus on, although your figuring out who he is makes sense. So if you knew for two years, is that why you were awkwardly nice when I was in my Batgirl suit?

Jim: Oh yeah, it was difficult. And when I found out who Nightwing was, I couldn’t help but be a little rude to him. Yeah, I knew that guy when he was Robin.

Barbara: You’re such a…dad right now. I love that about you.

Jim: And I love you. Now that you’ve shared this big secret, do you want Chinese or Mexican for dinner?

Barbara: For something like this, I say we should get pizza.

Jim: Works for me. I’ll treat you, although I feel like you’re getting paid to be a hero. Can I stop paying for your HBO?

Barbara: When it gets cheaper, maybe.

[aclockworkreader]

Hi! I was wondering if you had any thoughts about everything that is going on around It ends with us. I didn't really know anything about the actors until after the movie was released and now I've seen that all the people involved seem to have horrible politics. I feel like this is similar to what happened in the Amber Heard trial, it's being treated like some kind of entertaining show even though the allegations are really serious. I think that the media coverage is not being helpful either and this type of cases might scare victims to speak up about their experiences after seeing how quickly everybody seemed to believe Baldoni.

i actually have a LOT of thoughts about this.

i made a video about the it ends with us movie (this was months before any news about her allegations and the lawsuit came out) and in it i briefly talked about the “drama” that was surrounding the press tour. i mentioned that while i don’t like any of the actors involved, i think most of what’s being said about blake lively is just misogyny and that i don’t trust justin baldoni because anyone who considers themselves a feminist and says “this is a story about women and i wanted it to be told by women” would never a) adapt this book in the first place and b) make himself the director.

and now, after all the news came out, i still stand by what i said.

what’s happening is exactly like the depp/heard trial and is a direct result of its outcome. people want a perfect victim. they cannot conceptualize that a woman can be complicated, unlikeable, even a bad person, and still be the victim of a crime. it doesn’t matter if blake lively is difficult to work with, took over the project, or is just simply annoying, everyone deserves a safe work environment free of sexual harassment. the way the public turned against her so quickly…..it’s genuinely disturbing. and for what?? a man people barely knew a few months ago? they believe him because he’s a self proclaimed feminist?? evil men flock to feminism the way they flock to religion, because they think it will absolve them of their sins.

i mean his team (which is the same pr team johnny depp hired, if that wasn’t already a huge red flag) has outright admitted to manipulating the public and turning them against her during the press tour?? his team isn’t even denying her claims (because they can’t because she has evidence) so instead they’re going with the “she was asking for it” narrative. it’s textbook! if it weren’t so fucked up, it would be funny.

and even if you ignore all that, even if you don’t want to look at the facts or the truth, even if you want to ignore all the signs we’ve seen a thousand times before—i would much rather be wrong about believing her than be wrong about believing him.

[chaos-is-beautifvl]

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 (𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨) 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐲…

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: steve harrington x fem!reader, possible eddie munson x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you have a secret. that secret has been shared with only two people - your diary and your best friend, just not the one it’s about. but what happens when your secret isn’t so secret anymore?

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠: wheeler!reader, angst, so much drama, special appearance: eddie, we do not like carol or tommy in this fic, possibly unrequited love (sorry y’all)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.3k (4343)

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 💌: requested by anon a few months back. the request originally asked for byers!reader but i saw nancy and thought they asked for wheeler!reader. i had written 3000 words exactly, and the thought of changing it gave me serious writer’s block. nevertheless, here it is. very plot heavy bc i wanted to show reader and steve’s relationship. enjoy!

p.s. check out my writing here and my other steve story: dancing’s not a crime here

Being a Wheeler is a heck of a job. 

As the second oldest of four children, you don’t know whether to consider yourself the middle child or the outcast. You’ll go with the latter. After all, much to your mother’s chagrin, those are the types of people you spend most of your time with.

The only exception is the one and only Steve Harrington. It’s a miracle the two of you even became friends. But all thanks to your chemistry teacher, who thought the two of you would be a perfect pair, or at least, she only paired you two together because Steve was goofing around, and you were adamant about working alone.

Either way, since then, you and Steve have become best buds. Such an unlikely pair turned heads and brought about glares and eye rolls. But, being who you are and given that your best friend is Eddie Munson, the looks and whispers don’t phase you.

Your life is going well. Your grades are improving - you only get the occasional B, which is great because now your mom is off your case. You’re closer to your little brother, which is a feat because he and his friends are rowdy. And you have two incredible best friends who annoy the crap out of you. Other than that, you have no issues.

Actually, you do have an issue. Your issue is currently climbing through your bedroom window.

You lazily watch as Steve clambers into your room. His movements are clumsy and all over the place. If your record player played a quieter track, he’d give himself away.

Once he rights himself, he gives you a wide grin, and you make a point to blink at him, a silent communication of ‘what the hell’?

Steve heads over to your vanity, one that has papers and books haphazardly scattered across it. He bends down to check out his hair, shaping it together as if the tons of Farrah Fawcett hairspray he uses isn’t damn near gluing the strands together.

“Hello to you too, Harrington. What a joy it is to see you tonight.” Your tone is about as dry as burnt toast, prompting Steve to look at your unamused expression through the mirror.

“You’re pissed…” The way he tests the words indicates that he isn’t sure why you’re looking at him the way you are. You huff, nodding in response.

“Why are you even here?”

“Uh…” Steve finally turns away from the mirror to properly look at you. While you seem pissed off, he’s known you long enough to know it’s something else. “What, can’t see my favorite girl?”

“No, Steve, you can’t because you’re always here for Nancy!”

His mouth falls open at your words, making you regret airing your grievances. That’s until he smiles all lopsided-like, and your heart betrays you by beating a little faster than it should.

“You jealous or something?”

Your eye twitches, and you sigh as you fall back on your bed. “You’re awful, you know?” You hear a laugh, and your heart pitter-patters again, betraying you. “And I’m not ‘jealous or something’.” You make your voice octaves deeper to mimic him. “I’m just annoyed.”

The bed dips when Steve joins you. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” You don’t look convinced, and he nudges you. “I’m serious. I might be dating your sister, but you’re still my favorite Wheeler.”

“Whatever. I still don’t believe you. But go before Nancy has a fit.”

“Fine, fine. Rush me, why don’t you?” He hovers by your door, listening to ensure the coast is clear. Before he heads out, he winks at you, giving one of his signature charming grins. “See you later, Wheeler.”

You can’t stop a grin of your own from emerging as you raise a hand as if you’re going to wave. Instead, you flip the bird, “Get out, Harrington.”

Once he leaves, you grab a pillow, burying your face inside to scream. Of all people, why do you have a crush on him? That’s a question answered when you pull out your diary, writing down the feelings you’ll never confess.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Though Steve hadn’t said he’d spend more time with you, he did make an effort. He even went as far as joining you and your friends instead of his own for lunch.

You’re having a conversation with Steve when someone calls him over. Annoyance tugs at you, but before Steve goes, he makes a point to salute you. The simple gesture makes you smile like a schoolgirl, and Eddie quickly calls you out.

“This is sickening to watch.” The brunet pretends to vomit, covering his eyes like a distressed maiden.

Your smile quickly wipes away as you roll your eyes, tossing a grape at Eddie, who somehow manages to catch it in his mouth - the lucky bastard.

“Don’t get mad at me because you’re in love with-” Before he can finish his sentence, you slap your hands over his mouth, shushing. 

“-Be quiet!”

Eddie peels your hands off him, rolling his lips to prevent his laughter from escaping. “I wasn’t going to say you know who’s name. No need to attack me.”

“Yet, for some reason, I don’t believe you.”

Eddie starts chuckling at your tone, and you swat at him, laughter bubbling in your chest. “Stop laughing, you ass.”

From afar, Steve watches the two of you laugh. He’s trying to figure out why his chest feels tight when Carol waves her hand to get his attention.

He directs his gaze to the ginger, who smacks her gum loudly. “What is up with you and those Wheelers? First, you’re friends with one. And now, you’re dating one.”

Tommy chimes in, “Yeah, man. Still can’t believe your friends with that freak.”

Steve isn’t able to defend himself when Carol interrupts. “Tommy’s right, Steve. Nancy was already a stretch, but that freak-” She smacks her gum again, nodding her head over to you. “-she’s a basketcase.”

Now, Steve is used to his friends and their judgmental ways. And, though he has a long way to go, he can acknowledge that he’s changed from the ignorant guy who picked on anyone who wasn’t cool enough. Part of - no - a good majority of that change is thanks to one person - you. So, hearing his assholes of friends calling you a freak and making it seem like being around you is hell on Earth riles him up all the wrong ways.

“Shut the hell up.” Steve scoffs, crossing his arms. He looks over at you, and you’re gesticulating as you recount a story to your friends. Steve’s reminded of how amazing you are as they smile and laugh.

“You assholes don’t even know the first thing about her. She’s the best damn person I’ve ever met, and she’s leagues better than both of you without feeling the need to tear down everybody else that breathes.”

Steve turns back to Tommy and Carol, his harsh glare rivaling their shocked expressions. All Carol can do is slowly chew her gum, looking around as if waiting for someone to snap Steve back to his old self.

“You know what? I don’t have time for this. You can plan the goddamn party on your own.” With that, Steve walks away before he says something extreme and heads back to your table.

“I don’t know about you, Tommy,” Carol blows a bubble with her gum, “But I really don’t like her.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You’re by your locker, sifting through your notebooks and chatting with Eddie, when Steve joins you. Being as keen as you are, the odd look Steve gives Eddie doesn’t go unnoticed. You have half a mind to comment, but Steve speaks before you can.

“You’re coming to the party, right?” Steve asks as he leans against the lockers next to yours.

You roll your eyes in annoyance. There’s a party every day, it seems. You shut your locker before turning to Steve. “How about no?”

“Aw, c’mon, it’ll be a total drag without you there, you know?” Steve lays the charm on thick as he sports a heart-clenching grin. But you’ve learned not to act on those lovey-dovey feelings to protect your sanity.

“If it’ll be such a drag, how about you don’t go…?” Eddie offers, reminding you of how awesome a friend he is. He’s always there to pull you out of situations you don’t want to find yourself. And going to a party with Steve, and undoubtedly his horrendous friends, is not your cup of tea.

“Funny, Munson. Don’t think I was talking to your ass.” Steve’s counter catches you and Eddie off guard, and you throw a ‘what the hell’ look at Steve. You know that Steve is still Steve and has some unsatisfactory traits lingering. But him being unnecessarily rude to Eddie is something you’re not okay with.

“Okay, look…” Steve sighs, which has you raising an eyebrow, awaiting his response. “That was messed up, sorry, dude. I was going to ask if you both wanted to come.” 

Eddie brushes it off with a wave, “Don’t sweat it, man. I get it. But we’ll have to get back to you on this one. Y’know, parties aren’t really our scene.”

You agree with Eddie’s statement with a nod. Steve, however, has difficulty not rolling his eyes at Eddie’s use of we. What, did he not think you could answer on your own? And why the hell is he always getting in his way? But most important, why does it piss Steve off so much?

While Steve ponders, he misses the call of his friends. He only reacts when he sees Eddie stumble towards you. He whips his head around to see Tommy and Carol snickering.

“Watch where you’re going, you damn freak,” Tommy sneers, and some jerks in the back laugh along.

Your books fall out of your arms as you prevent Eddie from becoming too familiar with the ground. “You good, Eds?” He nods, allowing you to help him back on steady footing.

You glare at Tommy, who laughs like a fucking hyena. You’re about to rip him a new one when Steve steps in, much to your and everyone else’s surprise.

“Jesus, Tommy… You have to be such a dick all the time?” Steve pointedly asks as he bends down on one knee to pick up your fallen books. It’s a simple act - a fine gentleman courteous enough to help a distressed maiden. But, you don’t know, something about how Steve gathers your things, handing them to you with that oh-so-apologetic expression, makes that simple act not so simple. 

A singular strand of hair loses its hold and flutters down to frame his face, and, like an idiot, all you can form is, “Thanks…” You hear Eddie snort quietly beside you, and as you take your books from Steve’s outreached hands, you make sure to jab the brunet in the side with your elbow.

“Always with the fucking Wheelers…” Carol sighs, popping a bubble of her gum. Like birds migrating, their small group of goons disperses in pursuit of more havoc. You’re grateful for two reasons. 1. They’ll leave you and Eddie alone. 2. Most importantly, you’re sure it’s plain as day how flustered Steve’s actions made you.

You’re about to give Carol and Tommy a piece of your mind when the bell rings for a second time. You curse, haphazardly shoving your books into your backpack.

One more tardy, and Mrs. Nelson might make do on her promise to slap you and Eddie in Saturday detention. That was just something neither of you could afford. You grab Eddie’s hand, and in your haste, you miss the disgruntled look on Steve’s face.

You two run down the hall, and just as you reach the corner, you turn around and lift your hand to wave bye to Steve. “See you never, Harrington!”

The corner of his mouth upturns when your wave turns into flipping the bird. “Oh, and fuck you, Tommy and Carol!”

The two scoff behind Steve, who only smiles, shaking his head. “Gotta love those Wheelers.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It’s Friday night, also the day of the party. Now, you’ve made all reservations to stay at home in the comfort and safety of your room. You’re all set to do just that until Steve comes to pick up Nancy. Ever since your mom caught him sneaking through your bedroom window to see your sister, he’s made more effort to appear at the front door. For good reason - Karen Wheeler might be head of PTA and bakes cookies, but she’s one woman you don’t want to be on the wrong side of.

You’re rifling through the pantry when Holly runs to you. She tugs at your pants legs until you turn around to see her with a piece of paper. You eye it warily until she aggressively thrusts her hand out, pointing to the front door before running off.

The crumbled piece of paper reads: “PARTY? Yes or yes?”

You snicker, pocketing the note as you gather your snacks and head for the stairs. On your way, you spot Nancy gracefully gliding down and almost envy her because you always trip over a step. 

Nancy stops you before you can ascend. “Oh, are you staying home again?” The ‘again’ is an ongoing joke with your family since you’re affectionately dubbed a hermit.

“She’s not,” Steve answers as he joins the two of you, and your eye twitches a bit when he swings an arm around her shoulders. “She’s coming to the party.”

Your face furrows as you pretend to think. “Hmm, you know, I don’t think I ever agreed to that. By the way, Harrington, you didn’t give me an option for no way in hell.”

Steve groans, “C’monnn, it’ll be a blast.” You almost let the thought of him being cute as he pouts linger in your mind but instead push it away.

You yawn tiredly, tucking your snacks under one arm as you cover your mouth. Blinking slowly, you squint before sighing in acquiescence. “This isn’t a yes, but I’ll consider it.”

You can see that Steve is fighting the urge to persuade you more, and the way he settles for a cool nod makes you bite back a grin. You wave goodbye to him and Nancy as you trek back to your bedroom.

You’ve nearly reached the top when Steve calls your name from the open front door. You turn around to see a cheeky grin. “Don’t forget Munson’s invited, too. See you there.”

You find it hilarious how sure he is that you’ll show up. There is absolutely no chance in hell you would go to the party. No chance at all-

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The music from the party sends vibrations throughout Eddie’s van, and you’re suddenly regretting coming. You turn to Eddie with an unsure look and almost laugh at his mirrored expression.

“Twenty minutes tops.” Eddie frowns as a couple runs in front of the van, cackling as they head for a cluster of trees further back. It’s so obvious what they’re up to.

“Ten.” You can’t fathom spending more time here, and you haven’t even made it inside yet.

Eddie nods in agreement, moving to get out before he stops to turn to you. He pokes you with a finger to get your attention. “Hey, you feeling okay?”

You furrow your brows, sighing. “I don’t know. Something feels off…”

“Maybe it’s the fact that we’re here… at this party… which, can I just add, is totally not our scene?” Eddie suggests, making you frown slightly.

“I don’t know. Today has been a bit weird. I was looking for something earlier and couldn’t find it, and then I had to see Steve and Nancy being, well, a couple. And, get this, I stumbled down the stairs when you came to pick me up.” You sigh again. “Maybe this was a bad idea…” you mumble, looking out the window to see someone vomiting on the lawn. Your nose crinkles, and you quickly avert your gaze to Eddie before you get sick, too.

“Well, how about this?” Eddie grins, trying to prompt one of your own. “We show face, talk to that guy - the unnamed one you have a major hard-on for. Then we make our grand escape, and guess what?” You look at him amused and respond with a hum. “We head back to my place and spend the rest of the night watching awesome movies and listening to super cool music. Sound good?”

You hate that Eddie knows you so well. With an affectionate eye roll, you breathe in and out. “Sounds good. Let’s go, Munster.”

The party is in full swing inside. It seemed the outside partying was just a warmup for what you two would face. Some acquaintances greet you and Eddie, sending waves and raising their drinks. It’s almost comical because it makes you feel like you’re one of the “cool” kids.

Somehow, you and Eddie find yourselves in the thicket; the music’s bass rumbles through you, and you see far too much bumping and grinding for your liking. You look around for the only reason you attended this shit show and come up short. However, you see Carol, who has an annoyingly cocky grin as she passes you, whispering something to Tommy, who snickers. 

You’re about to comment on it to Eddie when someone calls your name. You look around until you see Steve heading towards you.

“Heyyy, you made it!” His enthusiasm brings about a simpering grin of your own. Steve pulls you in for a hug, throwing his arm around your shoulder, and you have to tell your heart to stop doing somersaults.

“Yeah, I did.” You smile up at him and almost laugh at his dopey expression. You’re not sure why he’s looking like that, but you attribute it to drinking. After all, is Steve Harrington really at a party if he doesn’t down an entire keg in seconds?

“You look really pretty, you know?” His words make you swallow harshly, knowing that his drunk words are kryptonite to your sober, hopeless, lovesick little heart. 

You can feel the heat emanating from your cheeks, and you’re sure that if he continues staring at you with that look you can’t quite name in his eyes, you’ll be a walking heat advisory. You gently jab at his shoulder, dismissing him with a wave of your hands and a roll of your eyes. “Sure, sure. Let the alcohol talk.”

“It’s not the-” Steve doesn’t finish his sentence when Nancy joins your little party, nuzzling up to him. The sight makes your heart clench in a not-so-pleasant way, and you smile briefly to show good camaraderie, but deep down, you hate yourself for feeling this way.

Nancy greets Eddie, and you silently curse yourself for forgetting he was there. Knowing that he witnessed the entire interaction, you chuckle, sure he’ll find some way to tease you about it later.

You spend the next few minutes talking with Steve and Nancy, who soon enough become engrossed with each other. The whispers and drunken laughter they share make your eye twitch, which catches Eddie’s attention.

“You know, it’s getting pretty late, so I think we’re going to head out,” Eddie says, forcing a convincing yawn. 

“Nooo,” Steve groans, unwrapping his arm from Nancy to place his hand on your shoulder. “You can’t go just yet. Stay. Please.” His bottom lip juts out just a bit as he pouts, begging you to stay with those big brown eyes, and a tiny part of you screams just how kissable he looks.

Instead of succumbing to that deep-down desire, you smile, tilting your head to look at him. “Sorry, Harrington. It appears you’ve exceeded your time limit.” You pat his hand, squeezing it gently before removing it. You swear you can feel his fingers curl around your palm, but he steps back in defeat before you can discern.

“It was fun talking with you guys, though. Who knows, maybe we’ll come to another par-”

You begin stepping away from him when a screech makes you and everyone else stop in their place. You turn to the source to find Tommy and Carol - of course, it’s them - standing atop a table with a microphone. 

You have half a mind to leave, but for some reason, you feel compelled to stay.

“Hi, everyone! Hope you’re all having a fantastic time!” Carol starts, her words slurred and voice oh so annoying. Cheers erupt from the crowd, but she’s quick to quieten them with a hand in the air. “I have a little special announcement for one of our esteemed guests…” 

She pauses dramatically, a mischievous look on her face. You’re not the only one who notices. Eddie leans down to whisper, “I think we should go.” You agree, feeling uneasy, but just when you turn to go, you hear your name.

Suddenly, everyone’s eyes are on you, Steve and Nancy included. You stare at Carol warily, wondering where she’s going with this.

“You see, little miss weirdo over there has a big fat crush on her best friend. But Steve is too busy fucking little miss perfect to give her the time of day.” Muttering and snickers and gasps of surprise sound around you as your heartbeat quickens. Tommy pulls your diary from his jacket, flipping it open to an earmarked page.

“‘Dear diary… I can’t believe I have a crush on Steve Harrington! I hate him and his perfect hair and charming smile and-’” Tommy pauses his reading to smirk. “Here’s the best part.” He pitches his voice annoyingly high, “‘I think I might just be in love with him, but of course, he has to be dating my sister, of all people.’”

If the humiliation doesn’t break you, seeing Steve and Nancy’s expressions as you slowly turn to them does. Nancy looks betrayed, and there’s a hint of anger in her eyes. You don’t blame her; you felt the same when you discovered she was dating Steve. Speaking of which, he looks confused; his brows pinch together, and his mouth is agape. 

You open your mouth, but no words come out. What can you say? You don’t know. But you know that standing there while everyone looks at you isn’t helping you. Before you can register it, you’re running out of the house, pushing past everything in your way.

You don’t hear or see Steve marching right up to the table. “You’re real pricks, you know that?” He asks, snatching your diary from Tommy’s hands, sending him stumbling and falling off the table on his butt. Laughter erupts when Tommy falls. “Fucking assholes,” Steve sneers as he heads outside to look for you.

Eddie unlocks the van, and you’re about to hop in, ready to ditch this shit show, when someone grabs your wrist. You turn around to find Steve. He offers your diary to you. The thought of snatching it away crosses your mind before you remind yourself that although Steve begged to come along to the party, this whole shitshow wasn’t his fault.

So, instead, you gingerly take it from him, tucking it tight under your arm as if someone might come to steal it again. Then it’s tense - despite the cool night air sprinkling goosebumps along your exposed skin, the air feels unbearably thick, and you find yourself harshly swallowing the lump in your throat. 

Steve is the one to break the silence. 

“You never told me.” Those four words made you scoff bitterly, not at him but at the entire situation. 

“You never asked,” is your retort. 

Steve casts his gaze down to the ground, nodding solemnly. It’s another few seconds before he opens his mouth again. “I always thought it was Munson.” His confession shocks you. Is that why he’d always been so cross with Eddie?

“Well, now you know.” It’s unbearable standing here, trying to talk through this shitty situation. With a breath, you say, “I should go, Steve. No point in me hanging around.”

Steve falters, reaching an arm out to stop you from moving. “You can’t just walk away. We should talk-”

“Talk about what, Steve?” You pull your arm away from his grasp, fully turning to face him. “About how awful of a person I am. About how I fell in love with my best friend, and he chose my sister?” As you speak, frustrated tears fill your eyes, and Steve feels his heart break a little more. “Did you ever…” You breathe deeply, steeling yourself. “Did you… have you ever felt anything for me…?”

Steve’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, and had this been a different situation, you might have poked fun at him for looking like such a goofball. He finds it hard to meet your eyes, and though he never says a word, you already have your answer.

You scrunch your nose, blinking away the tears. You’ve already humiliated yourself enough tonight, and you won’t be adding crying to the list.

It’s then that you can hear music booming from inside the house - the rest of the partygoers continuing without a care, like some girl’s life didn’t just get flipped upside down and all around. You spot Nancy lingering near the entrance. She has this unreadable expression, but she’s not as angry as before. She looks sad, and that makes you feel even worse.

You tear your gaze away before looking at Steve, tears threatening to fall, and with a bittersweet smile, you say, “Tell Nancy I’m sorry for me, please. Goodbye, Steve.”

With those parting words, you quickly hop in Eddie’s van, and he knows to drive away without you even saying anything. You look out the rearview mirror to see Steve standing there, watching you leave.

Later that night, when you’re donning some of Eddie’s clothes, and he’s attempting to cheer you up, you pull out your diary one last time and write:

Dear (not so) secret diary,

Life is shit

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[kibblbread]

This is completely aimless and scattered, like more than usual but whatever. Either way it’s just relationship dynamic stuff~ btw pls read the fucking pizza gorl fic —>>> 🍕✨

Random thought but i think exposure therapy might be the best option in aiding Jason to recovery, well, that and gentle coaxing! Jason is very responsive to praise because he’s definitely a people pleaser. I know it might be hard to tell looking at him from a glance; but let’s not be shallow, he gives chance after chance to his loved ones no matter how much they screw him over. He’s simply a lover boy. So I conclude that Jason is a huge people pleaser, and he’s privy to it but ignores himself. He hates digging into his psyche.. it just hurts, poor guy has too many painful memories.

But it’s necessary for healing unfortunately 😔

AK!Jason is extremely.. emotionally.. wrecked. He doesn’t act outside his redhood persona often unless it’s completely necessary— like getting food and supplies, or even to possibly get intel.

At least for a while.

Meeting PG turns his entire world on its head! He’s pretty out of his element as it is while trying to define his persona, the redhood. But PG! Hoo boy— he did not anticipate a partner in crime. A sidekick if you will lol. So essentially his healing process is expedited(just a tad bit); since Jason interacts with his family at a much faster pace than otherwise on his own terms. Dick is very eager to give his younger brother the much needed affection and support that JT deserves but doesn’t want to scare Jason away. So early in the rekindling process, Dick takes a backseat and lets Barbara lead— she’s the voice for not only herself, but Dick & Tim even Alfred for a bit too. Babs knows just what to say and how to say it more often than not! Jason is more relaxed around her than any of his family for a time.

JT’s attitude is still pretty rotten though, he’s suffering so there’s still so much happening within him that slows them down in regaining his trust.

He’ll still snap & even become aggressive toward Barbara if she isn’t cautious and calculated in her approach, which she is, but she’s not a mind reader and can trigger the worst in Jason. However, on the other side of the spectrum, we have pizza. PG seems to never catch any lip, and if she does it doesn’t seem intentional most times— genuine underestimation is the biggest culprit. PG can be reckless, it’s the largest pain point in the fic between these two imo! But you’re not from gotham, you’re truly ignorant, you’re like a second chance to him almost. You don’t know of his sins, not really anyway… A slate as clean as yourself, he’s gotta prove to you he’s not a useless, unworthy, sorry excuse for a person right? He’s gotta prove it to you.

To his family.

To gotham.

No, he doesn’t. But if we are gonna play this game he proved it when he put on his life on the line once as robin, and a second time the moment he decided to become redhood. He’s no less worthy than anyone in reality. Hopefully he’ll see it in this lifetime, but even if he doesn’t, it doesn’t change how you see him and continue to see him. It most definitely doesn’t change how you make him feel either. 🥰 PG is a protective person at heart. She’ll do what she can to help just about any decent human being but especially her loved ones.

Jason sees it. He can feel it too, subconsciously he wants what she wants for him. So he’ll allow her to poke and prod him where he needs to be directed. JT allows a lot from PG actually, from her quick gentle touches to her quips and questioning. He doesn’t take it the same from any of the other bats, when it’s from family it’s nothing short of condescending. Humiliation and anger rises bubbles from his gut straight into his heart. But from you? It’s not something he can quite name.. sometimes it’s annoying, yes, but with you he doesn’t mind feeling insecure as much. You don’t know what insecurity looks like on him just yet so naturally he allows you to suggest things he wouldn’t otherwise acknowledge. The dialogue between you two is allowed to flow freely. To not know Jason’s trigger’s is to not know his anger; which is arguably both a pro and a con.

The closer PG gets to JT the more she sees what he’s capable of.. and how. The why is what she’ll inevitably get to, but how she gets to his truth is much more important. I think PG not being afraid of how Jason will react is her biggest advantage in being so close to him. On the reverse side of things, Jason is more calm because to him, she not antagonistic in his mind. She doesn’t know his past or the extent of JT’s capabilities so why would she, and even if she did, could she? Again I feel JT genuinely underestimates PG as she is a civilian and not held to his impossible self imposed standards. It’s not malicious, he just wants to protect her, his guard is lower than usual which isn’t saying a lot because it’s still extremely high. JT is still distrustful don’t get me wrong, but it’s not personal like it is with his family.

When you tell J he did good, that he’s accomplished something, he’s on the moon. PG’s acknowledgment goes such a long way in the never ending void that is his insecurity and self loathing!

On a less abstract level, when it comes to doing, Jason unintentionally gives PG the go ahead to start pushing his buttons when he inevitably begins clinging to her presence for comfort. For better or for worse, you push many buttons. lol.

“Stay here a bit longer?” Fine, what’s a bit longer?

“Call for back up! We need help!” Im good enough for the job, but maybe some help would be better than none in this instance…

*looks around Jason’s safe house* “Damn bitch you live like this??? Sleepover at my place😝” *complies but serves the most bombastic of side eyes*

The batfam get to see parts of him they haven’t seen before, or at least in a very long time when you two interact in front of them. Jason is still largely argumentative, but thats how it stays surprisingly, he doesn’t boil over and actually backs down or bites his tongue. Which is.. shocking to say the least. Dick & Babs take note of the more true extent of his patience and how willingly he’ll hear your suggestions. They’ll take note of how freely you grab his hand and drag him along. They even notice him suspiciously looking in your direction for prolonged periods while your back is turned. Hmmm very note worthy indeed. Jason is all too aware but doesn’t know what he can do about without you noticing his clear change in demeanor. But quite a few of his new habits fly under his own radar when it comes to being around PG!

He’s less jumpy for one.

Jason isn’t at all more confident in his abilities since he’s still crippled with anxiety and a lot of self doubt but, he’s really focusing on monitoring and guiding you. JT is teaching you to work smarter, teaching you how the streets of gotham work. And above all else making sure PG can keep herself safe! He’s firm and direct, sometimes even sounding like the commander of a militia 🤭 I like to think sometimes he reverts accidentally. Jason also tends to stay close to PG. Most times it’s unintentional but others he’s just watching out for you. You give him a lot of good vibes and reassurance and JT just naturally finds himself hovering over to where you are. Like him and D are side by side on a rooftop, then all the sudden he’s breathing down your neck because you decided sitting on the ledge of a building was cool like a dumbass. But the most notable of all these habits is how much he allows your touch; JT doesn’t squirm away from you either, he stays put. PG will touch his shoulder in gentle support or give his hand a quick tap to pull his attention.

Barbara finds this behavior interesting, Dick thinks it’s adorable but is lowkey in his feelings about it.

Lol

I think thats it for now…

thank u for reading my post bestie 🍕🤪

[i-trash-about-things]

Eddie's shitty sense of humor strikes again.

A random blurb that came to me after reading some headcannons about Eddie's childish sense of humor

777 words (nice). Suggestive but nothing happens. Reader has hair long enough to tug. GN!Reader and Ed are best friends. Swear word count: 4. English is not my first language! Sorry if something doesn't make sense and feel free to correct me! (Repost because Tumblr flunked the last time I tried posting this)

If you wanna be Eddie Munson’s friend, you’ve gotta learn a few rules. Handle his guitar with care, or else he’ll bash it in the side of your head. If W.A.S.P. is on, you do not skip a single song.

You know all of these, better than anyone with you being his best friend. His partner in crime, the one that always gets him out of trouble– or gets into trouble with him.

But there’s one rule you know better than all of the rest.

Eddie is nothing if not a damn clown.

Loud, potentially annoying, and will crack a joke like he can’t hold it back. Be it an awkward one liner at a funeral, a sarcastic remark in the middle of class or a genuine good joke in the middle of a campaign– His mouth is moving faster than his brain, and all that leaves his lips is absolute tomfoolery.

You know it, your friends know it, all of Hawkins knows it.

And an example of this behavior is that fact he can’t see any one of his friends bending down to fetch whatever fell without pretending to hump against their ass, groaning and moaning so exaggerated you never know if you wanna laugh or cringe.

Shameless.

It is kinda funny when Gareth gets all pissy afterwards, tho.

But, even though you and Eds have been friends for the good part of 4 years now– he never did this to you. Not because he didn’t want to or because it’d be weird, but because he just never had the chance.

You, differently from most people, doesn’t tend to bend down to reach something. You just crouch. Or kneel, when the moment calls for it.

It’s just something you’ve been doing since forever, so you’re more used to it. Mindless, instinct, really.

But the past few weeks, you think Eddie’s been trying to get you to bend down– like he wants to get a completion prize for humping everyone in the Hellfire Club (with the exception of the sheepies, duh). He drops his pick mid practice, asks for you to grab a figurine stacked on the box near the foot of his bed– anything, just to get you to bend over.

So far? No such luck.

But Eddie isn’t anything if not committed to the bit. So, one day, the opportunity shows itself for him and he takes it.

It wasn’t even on purpose, really. He was just getting ready to go out, both of you gathering your coats by the front door of his trailer so you wouldn’t freeze your butts off–

“Oh, hey– wait.” Your hand leaves the sleeve of your hoodie, instead reaching for him to stop moving. Your face is down, eyes on the floor, and he raises an eyebrow. “I think there’s something stuck to your shoe. Hol’ up.”

And before he has the chance to freak out in worry if it’s a spider– you’re kneeling between his feet, tugging on whatever it is stuck to his sneakers.

And, like a match dropped into gasoline, he sees his chance and goes for it.

You don’t have the chance to raise your face before you feel familiar fingers tangling into the front of your hairline, tugging your head up roughly– and Eddie let’s out an exaggerated, throaty groan, half-heartedly moving his hips that are eye level to you.

“Mmph! Oh, fuck yeah, sweetheart, just like that!” He cackles, biting his lip and tilting his head back for that extra effect… But pauses when he doesn’t hear you laughing or groaning in annoyance at his shenanigans.

So he looks back down… And something about the smirk on your face makes his heart skip a beat.

Despite the crude and sexual joke, you don’t look embarrassed in the slightest– much less uncomfortable, which was Eddie’s original fear. No… No, you look amused.

Smug.

There’s something about the way your eyes are halflided, full of mirth as you look up at him from your spot by the floor. The shit eating tilt to your smirk has a shiver running down his spine, and his grip on your hair instinctively loosens. Amused, confident even– even while literally kneeling by his feet.

Jesus H. Christ.

“You’re a dumb ass, Munson, you know that?” You say, the slight tilt to your words hinting at an affectionate tone that has him swallowing the dryness on the back of his throat. He almost doesn’t hear you over the sound of the blood rushing from his head down south.

“I live to entertain.” He hears himself say, and for once he thanks the fact his mouth moves faster than his brain.

[gothamslostboy]

Gotham Favorite Sodas

Victor Zsasz

Mountain Dew

As much as I don’t like it, it suits him perfectly ._.

Ppl already know when someone is killed by him bc he works for one of the most powerful crime bosses in the city

But his calling card is basically just an empty Mountain Dew can bc he’s constantly taking them with him on jobs

If a hostage asks & they haven’t been too annoying he’ll let them have a sip

Butch Gilzean

My man is a cream soda guy :]

He just is

It makes too much sense for me to possibly explain

If he and fish weren’t in the mood for alcohol in their end of the day debriefs he’d pull out the cream soda

She thinks it’s just okay but lets him keep it all around the club bc he’s such a good number two

Only drinks the high quality ones tho

Jerome Valeska

The chicken wing soda

He’s genuinely so unwell

It’s not even a “oh he says it’s his favorite to make other ppl mad”

His taste buds are just as insane as him

He made ppl in his cult drink it too

When he holds ppl hostage it’s the only thing he’ll offer

If they say it’s disgusting he kills them

Jeremiah Valeska

As insane as his brother but in a totally different way

The only soda he drinks is Dr Pepper

Which isn’t insane in itself

The insane thing is that he tells ppl he only drinks coke

And like, will adamantly insist on that

If someone sees him pour Dr Pepper in a glass and says they also like it he’ll try to convince them it’s Coke and that they must’ve been confused

I honestly don’t know why I think he does this he just does

He tries to gaslight people so hard about it

Even if they can still see the can

He’ll recycle it then go back to gaslighting

Nobody even cares but for some reason he really does

Jervis Tetch

Okay so he doesn’t like soda

Like at all

He prefers tea or juice

I don’t think he’s a fan of carbonation but I really wanted to include him

It’s not fair bc I dint include any of the other characters who I don’t think like it bc I thought that’d be boring

But he’s my awful, horrible, disturbing freak man and I love him and need to mention him

If you are a big fan of a particular soda he’ll give it another try for you

He’s 100% still gonna hate it but makes an effort to convince himself to like it

Because he refuses to believe his love has any incorrect opinions thank you very much

Harvey Bullock

Likes a good old Cola

Simple and reliable

Really dislikes all the fruit/food flavored sodas

He’s also one of those ppl who cares about the Coke and Pepsi rivalry-_-

Prefers the glass bottle but mainly gets it canned bc he can get more cheaper that way

Barbra Kean

Says she doesn’t like soda but that’s a lie

She actually really likes most sodas

Stopped lying about liking it after she became a villain

It’s hard to narrow down which ones her favorite but I’m gonna go with sprite

She drinks a decent amount of Shirley Temples in her down time

Refuses to drink it around Jerome bc he mixed in Ranch soda one time

Yeah she’s never trusting him again

[kbkirtley]

Nightwing has always been a favorite character of mine, but I mainly steered away from the Batfamily generally because Batman/Bruce isn’t a character I gravitate towards. Over the last year, though, I’ve watched/read a lot of the rest of the fam through different shows, Nightwing comics, Batgirls comics, and Wayne Family Adventures. Here is my definitive ranking of the Batfamily*:

Tier Seven: A Literal Murderer

10. Red Hood - Jason Todd

Y’all know he kills people right? Every other post I see about him on here is talking about him being a cinnamon roll or a perfect gentleman and it seems to get lost that he walks around shooting people with regularity. Doesn’t even seem particularly remorseful about it. I get that you died, man, but like half the heroes in DC have died at some point and they’re not filling people with lead. You’d think with all his money, Bruce could send his kids to see a therapist but I guess that’s a lot to ask of a man who processed his own grief and trauma by dressing up like a bat to fight thieves and muggers.

Tier Six: You Couldn’t Pay Me All of Bruce Wayne’s Money to Stay in a Room with Them for Five Minutes

9. Batman - Bruce Wayne

8. Red Robin - Tim Drake

I find both Bruce and Tim to be pretty insufferable. They’re smart but not smart enough to realize how to be smart without being a dick about it. Too clever for their own good and while they’re ranked higher here than Jason, I’d still much rather be in a room with Jason than either of them. Death would be welcomed if my alternative was having to listen to Bruce or Tim talk for more than fifteen seconds.

Tier Five: Need More Data Points

7. Signal - Duke Thomas

I basically only know Duke from WFA which is a fun series but doesn’t give me a ton to go off of big picture. Jury’s still out but I like his odds of not slipping.

Tier Four: Children Get Benefit of Doubt

6. Robin - Damian Wayne

Damian annoys me but in his defense, he is a literal child that was raised by assassins. He gets this spot because of extenuating circumstances and his relationships with Dick and Jon Kent.

Tier Three: The Batgirls

5. Spoiler - Steph Brown

4. Orphan - Cass Caín

3. Oracle - Barbara Gordon

I would be willing to die for any of these characters but they would never let that happen. Probably the most fluid tier. Have more connection to Babs because of my intro to the Batfamily primarily coming from Dick. Cass is second here largely because of her and Dick being perfect together in WFA. Steph lost the straw poll but could easily be third the next time I do this with little effort.

Tier Two: The Billionaire Butler

2. Alfred Pennyworth

The actual father figure of the Batfamily. Every ounce of every one of the Batfamily members success as actual humans is because of Alfred. Batman may have made them all good crime fighters, but Alfred made them good people. Alfred made them heroes.

Tier One: Boy Wonder

1. Nightwing - Dick Grayson

This was always going to be number one. It was never a question. Dick is my favorite superhero and quite possibly my favorite fictional character in general. He was never not winning this ranking.

*Only doing characters I’m mostly familiar with so if someone is missing I just don’t have enough connection to them yet - feel free to send recs to know them better!

[startanewdream]

Pocket, for @jilymicrofics. Or how James Potter's most annoying habit is keeping his hands in his pockets.

***

It’s only when Mary calls her name for the third time that Lily turns away to look at her friend.

“Golpalott's First Law,” she says, some lost part of her brain finding the answer to a question that Lily had not paid attention to.

“Thanks.” Mary scribbles something on her notes before shaking her head. “I thought we were going to study.”

Lily lowers her head to the book on her lap. “We are.”

“I am. You are just ogling at Potter.”

Lily purses her lips. “I am not,” she says as dignified as she can. “I was glaring.”

“Glaring. Ogling. It’s hard to tell with you when it comes to Potter.”

“It’s not like that, just look.”

Mary does; it is hard to miss that group of four friends under the shadow of a tree by the lake. Lily guesses they were supposed to be studying for the OWLs, just like all Fifth Years by now, on the evening of the beginning of their exams, only they are laughing and teasing each other, loudly discussing some past nights that make no sense to her—they nearly lost a rat?—, and planning something else that has nothing to do with exams.

“What?” Mary asks, confused. “So they aren’t obsessively reading their first year notes about History of Magic. Wish I could be the same.”

“Well, they should. Lupin always gets nervous on exams, you know it. Pettigrew’s grades are not great, and Black—”

“Black and Potter always get good grades.”

“Still, they should at least pretend, I don’t know—”

“Like you are pretending to study Potions? You know it all already by heart.”

“That’s not—” Her voice falters for a moment. Lily has nothing to do if any of them fail their exams, or if Potter is a good student with minimal effort; it was not even their laughs that bothered her at first because it was actually nice to see someone not freaking about the exams. But their laughs had attracted her attention and she had turned to see Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew sitting by the grass, and Potter—Potter was leaning against the trunk of the tree, looking so casual, hazel eyes shining excitedly behind the lens of his glasses, and— “Why are Potter’s hands in his pockets?”

Mary blinks. Twice.

“That’s not a crime, Lily.”

It isn’t, but maybe it should be. If only Potter was sitting with his friends, then she wouldn’t notice how he had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, all the way to the shoulder, and Quidditch, who could know that being a Quidditch player could give someone so nice muscles in their arms?

“It’s annoying,” insists Lily. “We should get inside, I’m thirsty.”

Mary's eyes spark with sudden understanding. “I bet you are.”

***

It was not supposed to be just the two of them, and yet Lily finds herself walking down the path to Hogsmeade alone with James Potter.

Her heart skips several beats that have nothing to do with their lazy walk, neither in a rush to reach the village. Few Sixth Years were interested in even going there—Remus is in the infirmary, Peter has some extra classes this Saturday, Mary was only excited because she had a date, and Black plainly asked what was the point in going. James had mentioned then that he would stay if no one else wanted to go, and Lily had jumped (metaphorically) to say she could go with him then.

“I need some new quills,” she had explained even though no one had asked.

If James had thought anything else about her offer, he hadn’t said it. All through their walk to Hogsmeade, he keeps his cool, talking to her as he would talk between classes, as if they are heading to the Great Hall for breakfast instead to Hogsmeade in what one might say it’s a date—or else a good opportunity for something, for that tiny tension that’s been there between them to be explored.

But through the exchange of quips, lingering eyes that are diverted when their gaze met, and her racing heart, Lily knows this isn’t a date at all, because James’ hands stay in the front pockets of his jeans most of the time. 

Which means his hands are far from hers, even after her hand brushes his arm on the walk, so many times, as Lily recounts some stories. When he helps her adjust the scarf on her neck, fingers brushing softly on her skin, Lily thinks, this is it. 

But James just takes a step back, smiles at her as if he couldn’t notice how her skin prickled with his touch, and puts his hands back in his pockets. Respectful. Casual. Far.

Lily almost misses the day where he would run his hand through his hair upon noticing her—maybe not, because James used to be very stupid back then, but really, that habit wasn’t as irritating as this new one.

***

James Potter had a fair number of quirks, most of which Lily admitted it was endearing, but this one of releasing her hand every five minutes to check the pockets of his cloak is new and frankly, annoying.

“What?” She asks when he does that for the eleventh time. “James—do you have something else to do?”

He blinks. “No, no, tonight was all for us.”

Lily looks up for a moment; from that high tower, she can see the waning moon in the horizon. No meeting with his friends then. That doesn’t explain his new behavior.

“What’s bothering you?”

He sighs. “Nothing, let’s just enjoy our night.” And he gestures around, to the midnight picnic he organized for them at the top of the Astronomy Tower. With candles, a bottle of wine, and flower petals over a blanket, it was very romantic and private, something that Lily had thought she might enjoy with him, only her boyfriend was clearly distracted.

And despite his words, even as they are kissing, his hand falls from her waist once again to pat the pocket of his cloak, face clearing once he finds whatever is that he is searching there.

“That’s it,” Lily says, taking his cloak and tossing it to the ground in a swift moment. “It's annoying, James, you need to—”

Her voice catches; from the pocket of his cloak, a silver ring has rolled, drawing a circle until it stops at their feet. They both look at it for a full second before James kneels to pick it.

“That was not what I had planned,” he admits, holding the ring and offering it to her. “But here it goes. Lily Evans—would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

[bugeyedfreaks]

Silly Chemical X thoughts I have been pondering are below the cut…

So, yeah, in the show the girls have been shown to get revived through the power of love multiple times. However, we’ve seen other beings made from Chemical X, uh, y’know… like, blow up and die (Bunny, Dick Hardly getting destroyed by his Frankenpuffs, the RRB exploding that permanently killed them their demonic resurrection is not canon to me because it’s dumb), and then there are other people who’ve had Chemical X exposure who don’t retain their powers (such as when the GGG’s powers got, um, flushed down the toilet, and when the schoolkids in Mojo Jonesin’ had their powers wear off after a while). So for most individuals, Chemical X is way too unstable, and for others, it barely even sticks. Love isn’t going to bring any of the exploded ones back and it won’t bring back any of the powers the other people had.

……………sooooo the famous Chemical X explosion that created the Powerpuff Girls basically gave them permanent powers that can still be brought back if they DO get Antidote X’d or if they get beaten up badly. It also gave Mojo Jojo permanent smart bad boy powers that have not faded away. Chemical X also gave Bullet permanent squirrel power powers… even though that was during another incident, but still.

…so does the love thing apply to them, too? Would Bullet get her powers back if her animal family hugged her (SHE BETTER 😤)? And, more importantly to me because of course it is, if no one’s around to cry or be sad for Mojo, is he just, like, dead?* Like that’s such a depressing thought, but imagine Mojo doing some surprise selfless (or inadvertently selfless) thing at like the very last minute and getting the snot kicked out of him by some other baddie resulting in the day accidentally (or not accidentally????) being saved… like could he be revived through love powers too? Could the girls and the town have like a moment where they all of a sudden genuinely mourn him and it unintentionally brings him back?

I mean… it would be kind of adorable if true. And I wonder just how annoyed he’d potentially be if it WAS possible (like he gets revived and is all, “No, but… but I wish to be feared! Dreaded! Despised! I am supposed to be the ruler of you all, and all of you are supposed to be cowardly cowering before me!” and the girls/Townies are all like, “Sorry, we decided we love ya instead!” and he proceeds to have an existential crisis because technically it’s worth it because he can live to crime another day… and yet it’s still infuriating 🤣).

*Technically this sort of happened in the IDW comics and he got turned back into regular monke BUT those aren’t canon… he actually did get Antidote X’d in a gas chamber which he voluntarily allowed to have happen but he made up some elaborate plan to get the Antidote X’d version of himself to Chemical X himself again or something… ugh, it was weird. 😵‍💫 I ignore all that because he and almost everything/everyone else was freakin’ off for the last half of that whole comic arc anyway, despite it being one of the better PPG comics I’ve read.

[thedndgoblinwholivesinyourwalls]

YOUR OCS. can you talk about them 😳👉👈 im intrigued by their crimes

*CLAPS MY HANDS TOGHETER* I’VE AWOKEN OK. SO. RIGHT INTO IT.

Quick rundown of the world they’re in- monsters exist!! And people have to live amongst them even though most of them are very dangerous! So anyways into the murder lesbians :]

Janette Biswar (she’s 47 and suffering/hj) or otherwise this lady:

(oh no the way the images layout lmao but the last one is done by @iersei!) She’s an unwilling cult leader with the church her mum used to run (which is a cult omg) being handed down to her basically! (she completed a rite of passage to be the leader in her teens which was murder she does not like that) And at the moment she’s trying to dismantle the cult to make it a normal cult but then Adele Beckett turns up-

This is Adele Beckett (46 and loving her life/hj)

(i don’t draw her enough and the art on the right is also done by iersei!) SHE’S A COP! (acab) She also fights the monsters in the world they’re in. Transphobic and aro-phobic btw. She gaslight gatekeep girlbosses on a regular basis. (She has a husband called Josh that she was highschool sweethearts with him- he’s transmasc so they were a sapphic couple in the early years)

Onto the actual plot- a cop and a priest walk into a bar basically. (i’m not even joking) so they both do that and they flirt things are said and done woahh (they kiss holy shit :0) They end up sleeping togheter but before that janette was like ‘heyy i’m aro-spec let me explain what that means and how i don’t do romantic relationships” and Adele is like “uh huh. definetly listening” she isn’t. she does not care at all. So basically they have a friends with benefits relationship but then Janette is like “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVE A HUSBAND” since adele is not polyamorous and did not tell Josh about it.

They split up, and don’t talk for a while until Adele’s son, Ryan, ends up being involved in a cult ritual that ends up with him getting his arm chopped off. Adele knows who did it (janette who did not agree to that ritual) and ended up getting revenge. In the form of arson. She was mostly commiting arson because she was just annoyed at Janette and a little bit for her son she isn’t a good mum. So Janette gets burnt alive and then ends up getting resurrected by weird blue spirits called Sprites that curse her with if she cuts her skin, little blue flowers and foliage burst from her skin trying to push their way out which is dangerous! So she has to stay out of town- in the woods- because everyone thinks she’s dead and she’s just planning her way to kill adele.

yeah. there is so much more lore i could go into but i will save that. for later. :D

Basically both of them have killed people and only one really regrets it (janette) okok anywayssss-

[allzelemonz]

Letter Snoop: Micah Bell X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader is referred to as 'man' and 'guy' Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Language Warnings: Micah Bell is his own warning, Sadie is a curious cat, Sean never shuts up, Micah takes things well for him being Micah and all Summary: When Sean interrupts your trip into town with an urgent job, you have to give your letter to Sadie to post. Sadie, always the snoop, finds an interesting confession inside.

It makes you nervous, writing it down. But if you don’t tell your best friend the truth they would kill you if they found out some other way. Ever since you fell in with the Van Der Linde gang you’ve only been able to keep in touch with your friend through letters. This most recent one prompted a somewhat annoying question given the hundreds of exciting things that you go through on a daily basis. They could have asked about your most recent robbery or the new bounty on your head, but they asked if you were interested in anyone.

If you don’t answer them and they find out, they’ll kill you. They will. You know they will.

Which is why you carefully and nervously write his name down, just his first name. If you give them too many details they’ll know exactly who you’re talking about. He is an infamous outlaw after all. His bounties stack higher than yours, his list of crimes miles longer. So all you give them is: Micah, blond, fond of his guns, kind of an asshole.

You fold the page with careful precision and tuck it into the already prepared envelope, the name ‘Killgore’ scribbled on it. As you approach your horse to make the trip to the post office, you’re stopped by Sean. He’s bubbly, more excited than he should be.

“Hey there, big man.” He grins. “Dutch has got a job for us.”

“Now?” You ask.

Sean nods. “Now ‘er never.”

Behind him you spot Sadie and Charles by the wagon, about to make a trip to the general store for Pearson. You groan internally.

“Just a second, Sean.”

“Best hurry, Dutch said it’s highly time sensitive, it is.”

You walk quickly over to the wagon where Sadie turns to you with a half smile. “Hey, Sadie.”

“Hey, everything alright?” She asks, leaning against the wagon.

“I gotta go on a job with Sean.” You explain, pulling out the letter. “Could you post this for me?”

Sadie stands upright and takes the letter from your hands. “Sure. Good luck on that job.”

“Thanks.” You give her a small smile and rush back over to Sean.

The job itself isn’t too bad. A homestead that Dutch insisted be hit right away. The money is good too, even with that fifty percent going to savings. Sean talks your ear off the whole time, but it’s to be expected. Once you’re back at camp and Dutch has the savings, you retire to your tent and finally take your gun belt off. The missing weight feels nice, but you nearly jump out of your own skin when you turn to see Sadie standing at the tent’s entrance.

“What the hell.” You mutter, a hand going to your chest.

“Sorry.” She says.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I know I shouldn’t a’ looked. “ She sighs. “But I was curious.”

“Looked?”

“At yer letter.”

You had forgotten about the letter. All of Sean’s talking had you thinking about so many other things. “Oh.”

“So, that blond, gun obsessed asshole named Micah wouldn’t happen to be our Micah, would it?” She asks, a mix of concern and teasing in her tone.

“Shut up.” You mutter, heat rising from the embarrassment.

“Hey, I ain’t judging.” She laughs. “But Micah?”

“That sounds like judging.”

“I’m sorry.” She laughs again. “Guess I can’t help it.”

You sigh. “Don’t snoop in people’s letters next time.”

“After this, I promise.”

“Good.”

There’s a beat of silence before Sadie’s curiosity gets the better of her again.

“So why Micah?”

You close your eyes for a minute, unable to believe you’re in this situation. “I can’t explain it.”

“Guy like you has a lotta options ‘round here and you land on the greasy ass of a man?”

“Sadie.”

She meets your eyes and reads the annoyance. “Sorry.” She says.

“How about you forget what you read and I forget what I wrote. Okay?”

“Sure, sure.” She nods. “Sounds like a great idea.”

She turns to leave, but you call out to her and she turns back to face you.

“If anyone finds out about this, I’ll kill you. Slow.” You say.

A smile spreads over her face before she walks away. She won’t tell anyone. You’re sure she won’t--it may be denial. You’re too tired to think about it for now and opt to go to bed. It’s dark when you wake up, still night time. Not many people are up, just the usuals that drink well into the night or scarcely sleep. You go over to Pearson’s and grab what's left of the stew, still a little warm from some lasting embers.

“Nice night, eh, cowpoke?” Micah says, stopping a few feet from you.

You stop with your spoon halfway to your mouth. You let out a nervous cough and set the spoon in the bowl. Micah being around always makes your heartbeat a little faster, but after the letter it’s even worse. He has his hands resting on his gun belt like he usually does, but his head is tilted up and you can see his face for once.

“Yeah, nice night.”

He does that small cough that he does, swaying on his feet a bit. “Miss Adler has some interesting things to say.”

You steel your expression and look down so your own hat gives you some privacy. “That so?”

“Ya sweet on me, cowboy?” He drawls.

You shake your head. “No.”

He chuckles lowly. “Ain’t that a shame.” You can feel the flutter in your stomach as he takes the few steps towards you. “Anytime, cowboy. I’m right here.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder as he walks past you. Even when he’s disappeared into the trees you can still feel the ghost of his hand resting there. You drop the bowl, letting the stew sink into the grass and stomp over to Sadie’s tent. You said you’d kill her, it was only half a joke.

[stranger-rants]

I like the idea of Eddie as a character, and I like a lot of aspects of him, but he is in fact flawed. And the way some fans of his refuse to acknowledge his flaws makes me really annoyed. I can tell he was written purely to be likable even though I don’t feel that’s entirely earned. I like him, but the way he gets treated as this perfect character who can do no wrong just kind of puts me off of most works about him

I like Eddie, too, flaws and all as the person I think he was actually portrayed to be.

I don’t like who a lot of people think he is nor who The Duffers wanted him to be. I think he’s trying to be cool, sometimes. I think he’s annoying. I think he’s easily flustered, and very inexperienced. I think he’s immature and goofy. I think he cares a lot about what other people think, despite being seemingly non-conformist. He assumes people are judging him, and they are… so he leans into that. He is also, of course, making a living dealing drugs. All of these things can be considered flaws, but they also just make him human.

Instead of recognizing these things as flaws, Eddie is kind of… infantilized by the fandom. He gets the opposite treatment of Billy, who is adultified. Eddie isn’t obnoxious, he’s an adorable man-child who needs to be taught social cues. When Billy drinks, it’s written down on his “villain-wiki” as a crime, but Eddie is turned into a benevolent street pharmacist. Eddie is A Good Poor who deserves to be rescued from his poverty, but Billy should have just moved out if he didn’t like getting beat. Et cetera.

Also, don’t get me started on the Eddie is a real metal head debate. Eddie is an elitist. It’s one of his flaws, and it’s something that every nerdy guy I’ve ever known does. He grills Erica on her D&D knowledge and abilities which is just reminiscent of every test gatekeepers to nerdy things will give to you if you’re not white and/or male. All the characters I love have flaws. Eddie happens to be egotistical and up his own ass when it comes to his interests. If he didn’t care what people thought of him, he wouldn’t fiercely protect his interests like that.

It’s the way fans fueled by The Duffers have latched onto these things that really piss me off. The hypocrisy of it all. The way people outright say Eddie is good and Billy is bad as if you can neatly sort teenagers into this dichotomy. Billy was a jerk who had to grow up too fast and he was abused up until his death. Eddie was a loser who was always escaping from life’s challenges through comics and D&D and he was convinced the only way to be a hero was to get himself killed. Neither really deserved that treatment.

…but while Eddie gets to be happily incorporated into fandom without much controversy, Billy - six years in - is still treated as too flawed to exist in those same spaces. I would much rather read about Eddie being a complicated, messy character than see people treat him like a golden child who is so cool and so suave and everybody should love him and the people who don’t just don’t get it and yadda yadda. It’s just nerd boy wish fulfillment at that point, and that’s the only thing The Duffers are consistently good at portraying.