#Bart I don’t want to alarm you

[moonmanunit42]

Space Babies

[mamawasatesttube]

#45 “I can’t imagine this world without you.” could be any of the core four toward Kon

A figure stands at the foot of Kon’s bed.

He snaps from mostly-asleep to wide awake in an instant, adrenaline spearing through his chest as he hurls himself into the air, legs flailing as his TTK shoves the blankets away. Krypto jerks out of his sleep in shock—

Wait. Why didn’t Krypto bark about someone coming in?

And then Kon’s tired brain belatedly kicks into gear, and the outline of the silhouette staring at him settles into familiarity. He falls back to the bed with a thump, heart still thundering in his chest.

“Jesus, Imp, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” He barely catches himself, swallows down the Like Pa? on the tip of his tongue. “Holy shit, dude!”

Bart doesn’t move. That sets off alarm bells. He just stands there, arms wrapped around himself, and mutters, “Sorry.”

Krypto stands, stretches, ambles in a circle, and settles back down. Kon softens, concern replacing the fading alarm thrumming in his chest. He stifles a yawn. “S’okay.” His TTK reaches out, skims along the floor and up Bart’s legs, encircles Bart’s wrist and tugs him closer. “C’mere, sit. What’re you doing here? It’s, like… I dunno. Late-o’clock.”

“It’s just past three.” Bart sinks onto the edge of Kon’s mattress gingerly, like he’s not sure if he belongs there. His heartbeat could be a hummingbird. “Sorry for waking you. I didn’t mean to.”

Kon snorts. Drapes an arm over his shoulders and tugs him into his side. “What, you just wanted to watch me sleep like some kinda creep?”

For a moment that lingers far too long, Bart is tense. Then, like a switch has flipped, he slumps into Kon’s side like a puppet whose strings have been abruptly cut; he turns his face into Kon’s shoulder and throws one leg over Kon’s lap, grabs two handfuls of his shirt, and—to Kon’s dismay—sniffles.

Oh, shit.

“Imp?” Kon cajoles, gentler. He wraps his other arm around him, too, and drapes his TTK around his entire body. Bart says it’s kind of like a weighted blanket when he does that. “Hey, man, it’s okay. You’re okay. Was it—was it a nightmare, or…?”

Bart died, same as Kon, except worse because of how the Speed Force slurped him up like a bowl of noodles. Or something. Bart’s explained it; Kon still doesn’t quite get it, but he’s pretty sure it sucked. No wonder it’s got Bart fucked up. They’ve only been back a few weeks. Bart’s probably here ‘cuz Kon’s the only one he knows who also died, right? Even if Kon’s death wasn’t as fucked up as his?

“It’s been a nightmare,” Bart says fiercely, then sniffles again. “I—I woke up thinking I was still—that it was a dream and I was still the stupid Flash and you never came back, and—” He sucks in a shaky breath. “You don’t get it. I can’t—I can’t imagine this world without you. And I had to live in it. You—you—”

Wait.

What?

Bart breaks off, beats a fist helplessly against Kon’s shoulder. Kon sits, utterly shellshocked. He thought the nightmare was about Bart’s death, not…

“Oh,” he manages, breathless. There’s a strange tightness in his chest that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. “You… Imp, I…” Shit, shit, what does he even say to that? “I’m here. It’s okay.” That just sounds like platitudes. Uh… uhhh… “No wonder you wanted to creep on me at three in the morning.”

Wait, no. Why is it that every time he doesn’t know how to respond to something, he exclusively makes bad jokes?

But Bart lets out a watery laugh against his shoulder, his fist relaxing before he curls his fingers into Kon’s shirt again, and relief floods through Kon’s chest. “Grife, I wasn’t creeping.”

“You were totally creeping.” Kon hesitates for a moment, then risks dropping a kiss to the top of Bart’s hopelessly wind-mussed head. “Next time, you can just get in bed with me, doofus.”

Bart peeps up at him, golden eyes almost grey in the blue night. “…Can I stay tonight?”

“Duh.” Kon flops backwards onto his pillows, hauling Bart with him. Bart squawks, but rearranges himself against Kon’s side after a moment, hugging his arm to his chest. “Ma’ll be thrilled to see you at breakfast.”

“True.” Bart sighs, smushing his face into Kon’s shoulder. Kon can feel his lips curve into a tiny smile. “Your grandma loves me.”

Kon sighs. The “grandma” title is more debatable than whether she loves Bart. “I know, Imp. Now go to sleep.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Bart mumbles, but his eyelashes brush Kon’s shoulder as he closes his eyes.

A comfortable silence settles over them both. Kon’s nearly asleep again when Bart’s hand creeps over onto his chest, and settles right over his beating heart. It makes him smile to himself as he drifts off again, content in the quiet night.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home: Arc 2 Part 10

Happy Wednesday!

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.4k

-----

The sun was high in the sky when Tim stirred the next morning. He and Bart were the only ones still in the guest room; Cassie and Conner must’ve gotten up already.

Bart had an arm tossed over his torso and his head was shoved into the pillow inches from Tim’s. No way to extricate himself without waking his friend, so he let his eyes close again. It was a long night and they deserved a lie-in.

But it was not to be. Moments later, the door banged open and Conner was there.

“Rise and shine, sleepyheads!” he called out. “Breakfast is ready!”

Bart grumbled into the pillow and Tim nudged him with his elbow. Without opening his eyes, he mumbled, “Don’t think we’re gonna be given a choice, Bart.”

“But, Rooob,” Bart complained, “you’re comfy.”

Tim yawned. Cassie ran into the room and jumped on the base of the bed.

“Come on, guys! It’s almost noon!”

“That early?” asked Tim. “I changed my mind. Give us another hour.” He covered his eyes with his arm and tried to roll over without displacing Bart’s arm. Bart pulled him closer.

“You’ve gotten like twenty calls from Bruce, Tim. You might want to answer them.”

Shit, Bruce. Tim missed morning check in and Bruce must be panicking. He grumbled and pushed himself up so he was sitting against the headboard. “B’s a worrywart.”

“Dick’s called a few times too,” added Cassie.

“They’re both worrywarts.” Tim yawned and held out his hand, and Conner passed over his phone.

Bart sat up next to him with his own grumbles and rested his head on Tim’s shoulder so he could see the screen as well.

Conner had only been slightly exaggerating. Ten new calls from Bruce, three from Dick, and one from Alfred. His texts, on the other hand…

Tim opened the group chat and sent a message.

Tim: We’re fine. Just had a late night and needed to sleep in.

After a moment’s hesitation, he added,

Tim: Return will be delayed by a few days. Will give ETA when I have more information.

Immediately, he received an incoming call from Bruce. Bart laughed against his cheek.

“No way am I sticking around for a bat interrogation. Kon, you mentioned breakfast? Are the Drs Fenton around?”

“Nope, they’re gone,” said Cassie.

Tim answered the call as Bart pushed off the bed. He and Cassie left discussing breakfast options.

“Hey, B,” said Tim as soon as the call connected.

“Report, Robin. What happened? Why’d you miss check-in?”

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to. Stayed up late catching up with my friend and then overslept this morning. Everything’s fine.” Tim expertly ignored Conner’s raised eyebrow. Why did everyone make such a big deal about lying to Batman?

“Hn.” Shit, that was Bruce’s I’m-not-sure-I-should-believe-you ‘Hn.’

Tim let the silence drag on. If he got too defensive, Bruce would absolutely know he was lying through his teeth.

“You just overslept?”

“Yep. Stayed up late playing a video game. It had to do with ghosts.” And sprinkle in just a bit of truth.

“Set an alarm for tomorrow. Do not miss any further check ins. When will you be returning? I need to arrange attendance with your school.” Bruce was clearly not happy.

“It’ll probably be a few more days. I’ll give you an update on this evening’s check-in. After Danny gets back from school.”

“I want all your homework completed by the time you return to Gotham, Tim.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you need help with transportation?”

“Nah. Conner’s agreed to take me back.” Not that he had asked. He looked up at Conner and raised an eyebrow in question.

Conner rolled his eyes, but smiled fondly and nodded. Tim grinned back and gave him a thumbs up.

“Very well. Is his phone working yet?”

“Uh, let me ask.” Tim looked up to Conner. “Is your phone working yet?”

Conner shook his head. “Nah, they weren’t able to get to it. But Cassie’s and Bart’s are.”

Tim relayed the information to Bruce who merely hummed. “Very well. Your next check in will occur before nine PM, Tim.”

“You’ve got it, B. Talk to you then!” Before Bruce could ask any more questions or begin to doubt his lies, Tim ended the call.

“Dude, I can’t believe how easily you lie to him.”

Tim shrugged. “I don’t get why people think it’s such a big deal. You just have to know what he’d expect and play into that. So long as he doesn’t learn Danny is also a superhero, this’ll be easy. And my chats with Danny are so encrypted not even Bruce will be able to hack them.”

Conner just shook his head. “Whatever you say. Now, come on downstairs. Cassie and I’ve been listening to the news and we’ll give you the rundown on what’s going on.”

“Where are our hosts anyway?” asked Tim as he followed Conner through the house.

“They went to Danny’s school to give an assembly on ghost safety and help implement some new security protocols for the students.”

“Danny’s not gonna like that.”

On the way down the stairs, Tim heard the voice of a newscaster.

“…why Phantom has hidden his connection to the Justice League. Perhaps we were too quick to judge him a menace. Though the Fentons still insist that all ghosts are merely posthumous consciousness implanted on ectoplasm and evil. I suppose we will just have to see. Either way, the combined work of Phantom and the Teen Titans has appeared to scare away the invasion last night. Due to their hard work, no casualties occurred, however the city did suffer hundreds of thousands in property damage.”

Cassie passed him a bowl of cereal and selection of protein bars. “We heeded your warning about cooking, so you’re stuck with a cold breakfast of stuff Kon and I picked up at the store.”

“Thanks.” Tim took it and started eating. “So what do we know?”

“The ghosts seem to have disappeared,” said Cassie. “But I don’t know if I trust it. They could be hanging around invisible or possessing people. The Fentons left for Danny’s school about half an hour ago and according to the news, the mayor will be there as well.”

“We’re hoping that’ll be broadcasted as well,” added Conner. “Considering how many times the mayor said he’d be at the school this morning when he was giving his press conference, I feel like he’ll want it publicized as much as possible.”

Tim nodded. “At least by publicly associating with him, our presence seems to have helped Danny’s reputation as a hero in the town. He’s been struggling with that.”

Bart snorted. “Wonder why. His parents love his alter ego so much.”

On the TV, the newscaster said, “Now, let’s switch to our correspondent live in Casper High!”

“Looks like it’s starting! Think we’ll see Danny in the crowd?” asked Bart.

Tim shrugged and moved until he was sitting right in front of the TV, eating mechanically as the mayor proved he was only there for the photo-op.

At least until the assembly was interrupted when a giant humanoid-wolf creature attacked. “Shit,” said Tim as he tried to call Danny.

Who of course didn’t pick up.

“I’ll go see if there’s anything we can do to help!” said Bart who was gone before Tim could agree or disagree.

Five minutes later, his phone rang. He set it to speaker before answering. “What’s going on?”

“The wolf escaped, but Danny wants us to stay put. His parents will be returning soon and he doesn’t want us to raise any suspicions. Since this time it’s only one ghost, he should be able to handle it.”

Tim ground his teeth. “Fine. But tell him to keep us in the loop.”

“Will do!”

The call disconnected. And a minute later, he had a new group message.

Danny: Hey, Tim. I’ve added Sam and Tuck to a group chat to keep you up to date at Bart’s request.

Tim let out a breath and added Cassie, Bart, and Conner.

Tim: I’ve added my friends to make it even easier Tucker: Tell Conner I’ll work on his phone as soon as school’s over Tim: He says thanks

And then Bart was back.

Tim sighed. “So I guess we’re sitting tight until the Drs Fenton return. I feel blind right now.”

Cassie sat next to him and bumped their shoulders. “We’ll figure this one out just like we have all the ones before.”

Conner sandwiched him on the other side. “Yep. And the Fentons don’t seem like the type to hide information. They’ll tell us everything we want to know.”

“You’re both right. We’ll fix this and be home before we know it.”

-----

Next

A little bit of a quieter segment after two weeks ago, but all the action is happening with Danny and co. It'll pick up shortly, though!

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[schrodingerspsycho]

I Just Want You To Be Happy - Chapter 2

Pairing - Taissa Turner x Van Palmer x Reader

Warnings - Angst, implied smut at the beginning, spoilers for This Is Spinal Tap

Word Count - 5.5k

Summary - Van tells Taissa how she really feels, and comfort is found in the most unlikely of places.

Chapter 1

Help Palestine by clicking this link!🇵🇸

The next morning, just like every morning, a harsh beeping sound jolted you awake. You groped at your bedside table, trying to turn the alarm off before it woke Van. When you finally opened your eyes you found that she was lying directly on top of you. You smiled; you woke up in this position more often than not, and you secretly adored it no matter how much you teased her. You stroked her hair lovingly as you watched the slow rise and fall of her chest. She looked so peaceful in her sleep. You knew that she had probably stayed up for at least another hour after you drifted off, her anxiety keeping her awake. If it were up to you, you’d close the store for the day to give her time to deal with everything, but you knew she would never allow that. She would want to keep as much of a sense of normalcy as possible, no matter how badly she needed a break. But at least you could grant her a few extra minutes of rest.

“Good morning, baby,” you whispered when she began to stir.

“Hey,” she smiled up at you sleepily. You grinned. You would never stop being amazed by how beautiful she was. She leaned forward and kissed you lazily, humming contentedly against your lips.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” she chuckled, stifling a yawn.

“Why don’t I go out and get us coffee after we open the store? How does that sound?” you asked, still stroking her hair. Then you trailed your hand down to her waist. “Or I could help you wake up another way.”

She lifted her head to smirk at you, fully awake now. You wiggled your eyebrows mischievously. Then she sighed. “We shouldn’t.”

You flashed her a dramatic pout before kissing the tip of her nose with a giggle. “Alright,” you agreed, though somewhat reluctantly. She gave you a piteous smile and kissed you deeply, bringing her hand up to cup your cheek. She still pulled away too quickly for your liking, but you could understand why her mind was elsewhere.

“We have to open the store, my love,” she said gently.

“I know,” you lamented. Van tried to get up, but you threw your arms around her neck and pulled her back down. “Not yet,” you gasped out before kissing her again. “Okay, now we can go.”

“You are something else,” Van murmured with a lovesick smile. Then she finally got up and you followed, admiring her shamelessly the way you did every morning. She was wearing your old Bart Simpson t-shirt and a pair of plaid boxers, and call you old-fashioned, but she’d never looked sexier. You really hated it when she decided to be the responsible one. “I can feel you staring,” she said without looking at you.

“What can I say? I like it when you get protective.”

“Oh, I can see that,” she teased.

“My white knight.”

“Shut up.”

You fell into a comfortable silence for a bit after that, going about your morning routine as you did every day. You brushed past her as you made your way to the dresser, not noticing that it was her eyes that lingered this time.

“Did we have any donuts left over yesterday, or did you eat them all?” you asked as you decided on an outfit for the day.

“Yeah, we do. And if I recall, you’re the one who ate three.”

“It’s your fault for buying so many jelly-filled! You know I can’t resist them!” you defended with a grin. “Jelly-filled are my favorite. Nothing beats a jelly-filled donut!”

“Did you just quote Pokémon at me?”

“Maybe.”

Van snorted. “Sounds like somebody’s been watching the merchandise.”

“We just got the entire Indigo League season on VHS, you can’t expect me not to watch it!”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” she smiled. “Just don’t forget to rewind it and bring it back down so the customers can watch it too.”

“When have I ever done that?” you said indignantly. Van raised an eyebrow. “…Recently?”

“Last month.”

“Hey, that was not my fault! We were watching that movie together, you forgot it too!”

“You brought it up, it’s on you to bring it back down,” she shrugged, smirking. You rolled your eyes.

“Whatever,” you conceded, kissing her on the cheek. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Wait,” she said softly, hooking her finger on the waistband of your pajama pants and tugging you closer. “Y’know, I don’t think coffee’s gonna be enough to wake me up after all.”

You smiled at her as she bit her lip, dropping your clean clothes on the floor and grabbing her hips. She gasped when you pulled her in, pressing her chest to yours and kissing her roughly. She wrapped her arms around your shoulders and held you in place, her fingernails scratching lightly against the nape of your neck. You lifted her off the ground without breaking the kiss and carried her back to bed. Then you laid her down gently and pulled away. She let out a soft whine.

“If we’re gonna do this, you’re going to have to be quiet,” you whispered, playing with the hem of her shirt. She nodded. She was staring up at you hungrily, in the way that always made your head spin. You leaned down and began sucking at her neck, relishing in the familiar way her body shuddered underneath you. If you had your way, you would spend the whole day worshiping her like this.

“God, just fuck me already,” Van hissed, grasping a fistful of your hair and shoving you downward.

“As you wish,” you grinned.

Tai blinked slowly as light from the window shone onto her face. She sighed and rolled over, her head throbbing. Then she remembered.

She sat up slowly, gazing around the empty apartment. She checked her phone; she had fifteen missed calls from Soyun and only eight percent battery left, and it was already past ten thirty. She put her phone back down and got up, pacing aimlessly. There was a donut box on the counter next to a note scrawled in Van’s familiar messy handwriting. Taissa smiled to herself as she picked it up.

There’s one donut left that you can have for breakfast, or you can help yourself to anything in the fridge.

Tai opened the box and took a bite, the sugary goodness melting in her mouth. It had been a while since she’d had a donut. Maybe she should start eating them again.

Then she noticed a picture frame in the corner that she hadn’t seen the night before. It was a photo of you and Van, standing on a beach somewhere with your arms around each other. You both had wet hair and a slight sunburn on your shoulders, and Van seemed to be laughing in surprise at the kiss you were planting on her cheek. There was no gray in your hair, so the picture must have been a few years old. Taissa’s smile fell.

After changing into the clothes that were left for her on the coffee table (another sweater she could tell was yours) Taissa headed downstairs. As she neared the beaded curtain that led to the back office, she heard the music playing faintly from the speakers in the store. It was a song she hadn’t heard in years and it took her a second to place it, but she recognized it as Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love a Bad Name”. 

Taissa stepped through the curtain hesitantly and saw Van sitting at the desk. “Hey,” she said softly. Van barely glanced at her. “I’m sorry about last night. Whatever I did, I-”

“Whatever you did?” Van repeated, her voice dripping with scorn. “Do you really think you can just waltz down here and give me some empty apology without even knowing what you did?”

“Alright, then what did I do?”

Van scoffed and finally turned around to glare at her. “You tried to kiss me,” she snarled. “And then you put your fucking hands on Y/N.”

Taissa’s eyes widened in horror. “Van, I’m so sorry,” she breathed. “Did I… did I hurt them?”

“Thank god, no.”

“Well, did I say anything?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you got right down in their face and said ‘you’. You practically growled it, I mean, you sounded like an animal.”

“That’s it? What does that mean?”

“I don’t fucking know, Taissa,” Van snapped. “It sure sounded like a threat, but I wasn’t gonna wait around and find out.”

“I’m so sorry, Van. I never meant for this to happen-”

Van let out a laugh. It was dark and humorless, and the sound was haunting coming from her. When Taissa looked up, she saw a flash of coldness in her eyes. The familiarity of it sent a shiver down her spine. “Oh, don’t act like you didn’t know this was going to happen. Like you thought that all of this would just magically go away when you got here. No, you knew exactly what you were doing.”

“You think I wanted this? I don’t remember anything, Van! I wasn’t in control, you know that!”

“Yeah, like that makes it any better.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Oh, I’m the one who’s not being fair?” Van yelled. “Not you, who came crawling back to me because you ran out of people who will put up with your bullshit? Who can’t hide behind your denial and your facade of professionalism anymore and decided to make it my problem because you never learned how to cope? Who expected me to pick up the pieces without giving a second thought to how you or your alter ego might affect me and the people I love? Give me a break. You haven’t been fair a day in your life and you know it.”

Taissa felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes just as she noticed them welling up in Van’s. “Fine,” she croaked after a moment. “You’re right. I’m so sorry. Maybe I should go.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know when I’m not wanted.”

“I never said that.” Van stared her down, and Taissa found herself unable to walk away. “I told you I was gonna help you, and I meant it. But I gotta take care of myself, too. And Y/N. So I’d appreciate it if we could just cut the bullshit and see this for what it is.”

“And what is it?”

Van chuckled. “It’s fucking terrifying. This blast from the past is fucking up both our lives, just like always. And now we’ve gotta figure out how to be fucking civil about it.”

Taissa nodded solemnly. “I really am sorry about what happened last night.”

“I know you are,” Van sighed with a small smile. “And I know it wasn’t your fault. I’m just trying to keep Y/N as far away from this as possible. They’re the best thing I have and I can’t let them get poisoned like we are. They don’t deserve that.”

“Of course. I would never want that.”

They stood there in silence for a few moments, the atmosphere heavy but not awkward. Tai gazed at Van timidly as she processed everything she’d said. It was amazing how even after all these years, she could still read her like an open book. Tai wasn’t sure if she liked it or not.

“You said something else, by the way,” Van said, breaking the silence. “Before. You said ‘This isn’t where we’re supposed to be’. Does that mean anything to you?”

“No. I have no idea,” Taissa sighed. Van shrugged. “Wait. I said “we”? Who’s “we”?”

Van gave her a sad look, but before she could respond they heard the sound of the side door opening.

“I have returned!” you announced with a goofy grin. Van lit up at the sight of you, the pain from their conversation all but vanished from her face.

“Hi, baby,” she greeted, kissing you on the cheek as she took the bag from your hand. “What’s this?”

“I got you one of those breakfast sandwiches that you like,” you smiled. “I figured a leftover donut didn’t quite make a full meal.”

“Oh, yes! That sounds delicious. Thanks, babe.” She set the bag down on the desk and gave you a lingering kiss as she took her coffee from you.

“And Taissa, they only had one vegetarian option, so I hope you like avocado.”

“You got me a sandwich?” Taissa said, dumbfounded.

“Of course,” you smiled. “And here’s your coffee. A brown sugar oat shaken espresso.”

Tai took the cup slowly, her eyes flickering between it and you. “How did you know?” was all she could get out.

“Van told me,” you answered before taking your own sandwich out of the bag. Tai turned her gaze to Van, who had gone back to shelving the tapes.

“You remembered my coffee order,” she breathed as if she was afraid to voice the idea. Van shook her head like she was dismissing an unwelcome thought.

“Of course, I remembered,” she mumbled.

“Thank you so much,” Taissa blurted, taking her eyes off Van and turning back to you. “And I’m so sorry for what I did last night. I never wanted to-”

“It’s okay,” you assured her. “I know you weren’t in control. No harm, no foul.”

“A-are you sure? I just feel awful, and I-”

“Don’t worry about it, Taissa,” you insisted. “Seriously, it’s fine. Just relax and enjoy your coffee.”

Tai glanced over at Van, who was intently avoiding looking at either of you. She took a sip, and the familiar taste of the coffee calmed her nerves. “Thank you again. This really hits the spot.”

“I’m glad you like it. It’s from the best cafe in town,” you said with a wink.

Taissa ate her breakfast in silence, leaning in the doorway and observing as you and Van shelved the tapes. You moved so seamlessly together. The way you handed each other tapes without looking and passed each other your coffees from the desk without a word was honestly impressive. But the loving glances and whispered inside jokes you kept exchanging made it hard for her to watch. A pit had formed in her stomach, and she’d never felt more out of place. God, I’ve really fucked everything up, haven’t I?

The bell chimed out in the lobby just as Taissa was finishing her sandwich, and they heard heavy footsteps approaching quickly from the front door. You and Van shared a look.

“Maddy,” you both said in unison.

Van headed to the front of the store, and soon the muffled sounds of a cheery conversation drifted through the beaded curtain. “Who’s Maddy?” Taissa asked you.

“She’s our most loyal customer,” you explained. “Comes in about twice a week. She and Van are pretty close. She’s always giving her recommendations, and they can talk about movies for hours if you let them. She’s a really sweet kid.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Taissa smiled.

“Do you want to go out and meet her?” you asked. “I mean, if you’re going to be here a while, then you’re bound to run into her eventually.”

“No, I couldn’t do that. I mean it would be weird, right?”

“Only if you make it weird,” you said. Then Van walked back into the office and handed you a tape of The Watermelon Woman. “Wait, did she watch this already? I thought she had a term paper due?”

Van just shrugged. “Maybe she finished it. I don’t know, I’m the cool one who gives her movies, and you’re the lame one who asks her about school.”

“Hey!”

“Love you,” Van smirked.

“Did she like it?” you asked as you reshelved the tape.

Van grinned. “Yeah, she loved it. She said it spoke to her. Motivated her to start working on her screenplay again. She said she wrote a whole half page after she watched it.”

“That’s great!” you smiled. “Y’know, Taissa said she didn’t want to meet her.”

“I-I didn’t say that!” Taissa insisted. Van raised an eyebrow at her and you snickered. “I just… thought it would be weird.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Van said, sharing a mischievous grin with you. “But if you’re here long enough, you’re gonna meet her eventually.”

Taissa nodded dumbly as you followed Van through the curtain. She considered her options for a moment and decided that meeting Maddy would be less awkward than just standing there. So she took a deep breath and stepped out into the lobby. 

“Oh, Maddy, this is Taissa,” Van said when Maddy noticed her. “She’s my old friend, and she’s staying with us for a while.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Taissa said, reaching out her hand. Maddy shook it with a smile.

“Right back at ya,” she said. Then she snapped and pointed a finger gun at Taissa with a smirk. “What’s your favorite A24 film?”

“My favorite… what?”

“It’s a movie production studio,” Van chuckled as you giggled into your hand. “She asks everybody that.”

“You don’t know what A24 is? Oh, you gotta give her the crash course, VP,” Maddy grinned. Taissa turned to stare at Van.

“You saw Moonlight, right?”

“Uh, yeah. It was amazing.”

“Then there you go. That’s your favorite.”

Taissa nodded.

“Well, I’ve got to run,” Maddy said, slapping the counter. “It was great to meet you… Taissa? Right?”

“Yeah, it’s Taissa. It was nice to meet you too.”

Maddy smiled and waved at them as she walked toward the door. “I’ll see you guys tonight!”

You and Van grinned at each other as the door slammed shut, then you headed back into the office. Taissa raised an eyebrow at Van.

“VP?”

“What? It’s a nickname,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“It’s cute,” Tai smiled. “She seems like a good kid.”

“Yeah, she’s the best.”

“So what’s going on tonight?”

“It’s movie night,” Van grinned. “Every Saturday night we set up a projector and chairs and show a movie in the store. People love it, it’s a lot of fun.”

“That’s sounds awesome. Do you make any profit off it, or-”

“Yep, we sure do!” you exclaimed, appearing behind Taissa and moving to stand at Van’s side. “We sell tickets, popcorn, candy, and drinks all on the cheap! ‘Vintage movies at vintage prices’ is our slogan.”

“Y/N came up with that,” Van said proudly, putting an arm around your waist and leaning into you. “They were an advertising executive before they started working here.”

“Oh wow,” Taissa said. “That’s impressive.”

“Thanks. It was a good job. Nice office, big paycheck, and I got to flex my creative muscles. But I love this job so much more,” you beamed, holding Van close and rubbing your thumb up and down her bicep. “Plus it helps that I’m sleeping with the boss.”

“Shut up!” Van laughed, shoving you playfully. But you kept your arm around her and pulled her back in, kissing her on the cheek. “You co-own the store now, you idiot. You gotta stop making that joke.”

“Never,” you grinned, shaking your head. “It’s too funny.”

“You co-own the store?” Tai asked, her voice quivering slightly.

“Well, I wasn’t gonna make them invest in, work at, and live over a store they didn’t own,” Van explained. “We finalized things a few months ago, but it’s felt like our store for a long time now.”

“Oh, wow. That’s nice,” Taissa mumbled halfheartedly. Then she cleared her throat. “So what movie are you playing tonight?”

“This Is Spinal Tap,” you answered. “Have you seen it?”

“Yeah, I have. Van is actually the one who first showed it to me. Remember? It’s a great movie.”

“Oh yeah, I do remember! Wasn’t that the night we drank those Zimas that you stole from your aunt?”

“It was!” Taissa laughed. “And we got too drunk to remember the end of the movie so you made us watch it again the next morning when we were hungover!”

“Hey, I stand by that. You needed to see it through to the end!”

“Of course, you would say that,” Tai grinned. Van laughed, her eyes shining. God, how Taissa had missed that laugh.

“That sounds fun,” you said, a hint of annoyance in your voice.

“Oh, it was,” Van nodded, winking at Tai. “And we haven’t even told you the best part yet.”

“Hey now, we don’t need to-”

“Taissa thought it was a real documentary,” she said gleefully. “She thought the whole thing was real, you should’ve seen her, she just kept getting angrier and angrier at all the jokes!”

“That was only because you told me it was a documentary!” Tai accused, pointing a finger at her playfully. “Excuse me for trusting my best friend!”

“It took her until the amp that goes to eleven to figure it out.”

“No way!” you cried, bursting into a fit of laughter when you caught sight of Taissa’s sheepish expression. “That’s like twenty minutes into the movie! How did you not realize?”

“I don’t know, I was probably too drunk to be paying attention,” she shrugged.

“Not yet, you weren’t,” Van smirked. “You were paying enough attention to shout at the screen every thirty seconds. You kept complaining about how they were ‘getting things wrong’ and ‘how could they put that in the documentary’?”

“Okay, you know what? That… that was a long time ago. I was a kid.”

You and Van laughed at her weak attempt to defend herself, and Taissa smiled in spite of everything. She felt a flutter in her chest when she looked at the two of you. What was it? Happiness? Hope? It had been so long since she’d felt either.

But whatever it was, of course, it was too good to last.

After lunch, Taissa was able to borrow a charger from you and Van and had excused herself up to the apartment to make a very important phone call. She adjusted her hair anxiously as she stared at herself on the screen, waiting for her to pick up. And on the third try, she answered.

“What the hell do you want, Taissa?”

“Uh, h-hi, Denise,” she faltered, shrinking under her mother-in-law’s disapproving gaze. “Um, I was just calling to see if I could talk to Sammy.”

“He’s not here right now.”

“Well, where is he?”

“Harold took him to the park. Something his mother should be doing. But she can’t, because you put her in the goddamn hospital!”

“I-I know, and I will never be able to apologize for that enough-”

“Oh, you got that right,” Denise scoffed.

“Um, well, can you call me later so I can talk to him when he gets back?”

“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because first, you throw him and his mother out of the house, then you leave him at school for hours and put his mother in a coma, and then you run off to god knows where without a word! You’ve traumatized that poor boy enough, don’t you think?”

Taissa felt tears sting the corners of her eyes. “Okay, you’re right. I have done some bad things lately. I haven’t been doing well. But I’m getting help! That’s why I left, to get help so I can get better and be there for Sammy. I-I just want to let him know that I’m okay and that I’m getting help and I’m gonna be home as soon as I can.”

“Yeah, sure you are,” Denise snapped dismissively. “Where the hell are you anyway? That doesn’t look like any hospital.”

“Well, I-I’m not at a hospital, I’m staying with an old friend. B-but she can help me, I swear! Please, just tell Sammy-”

“Trust me, Taissa, he does not want to hear from you right now. It’ll only hurt him more.”

“That’s not your decision, he-”

“You put my daughter in the hospital,” she seethed, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. “She nearly died because of you! And then you abandoned her and her son! You are in no position to be asking anything from me!”

“I know,” Taissa croaked. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry. Just please, tell Sammy I’m going to get better and that I love him. Please!”

“He’s more worried about his mother right now.”

“He’s my son too,” Taissa quavered.

“Then start acting like it.”

And with that, Taissa’s phone screen went black. She stared blankly at it for a moment as tears spilled from her eyes, then she let it fall to the floor. Her hands shook as she covered her face, finally breaking down and sobbing.

You sighed as you finished a sale to a couple in their sixties. The man had poorly concealed white hair and could barely stop bragging about still having his own VCR long enough to pay. He put his hand in the woman’s back pocket as they walked out, and you winced in disgust.

“Why do men always have the worst taste in movies?” you said as Van approached the counter. “He said he wanted an action-comedy, and then he ignored all my suggestions and picked Howard the Duck. Howard the Duck! Why do we even have that movie?”

“Yeah, I don’t know what to tell ya,” Van chuckled. “And you know he’s going to come back in and blame you when his girlfriend hates it.”

“Yeah, well, I hope she leaves him,” you said, and Van smirked. “I’m gonna go upstairs and get a pop, you want anything?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks though.”

You nodded and headed upstairs. But when you entered the apartment, you heard sniffling and noticed that Taissa was curled up on your couch with her head in her hands.

“Taissa?” you called softly, stepping toward her. “Are you okay?”

She wiped her eyes and sat up slowly, refusing to look at you. “No. No, I’m not.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I called my mother-in-law to ask if I could talk to Sammy,” she sighed. You sat on the other side of the couch and she continued avoiding your gaze. “But she said it wasn’t a good idea. That I’ve already traumatized him enough. And she’s right. My own son doesn’t even want to speak to me, and I can’t blame him.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said softly, and she finally glanced up at you. “I can’t imagine how difficult all of this must be for you. I wish I could do more to help. But I can see how much you love him. I’m sure he knows it too.”

“Why are you being nice to me?” Taissa snapped. “Why did you even agree to help me at all? You should hate me!”

“Because of what you did last night?” you asked gently. “Taissa, I already told you, I forgive you for that. I know you weren’t in control. Of course, I’m not going to hate you for that. It’s water under the bridge.”

Taissa stared guiltily at the floor.

“Oh,” you nodded. “You’re asking why I don’t see you as a threat to my relationship with Van,” you said, finally voicing the concern that’s been itching in the back of your mind since Taissa showed up in your store. “Should I see you as a threat to my relationship with Van?”

“I-I don’t know, I mean I… no! No, of course not! Of course not.” Taissa shifted uncomfortably.

“Look, I’m not stupid. I know what kind of relationship you and Van had. I know it meant a lot to her, and I imagine it meant a lot to you too. But I also have complete trust in my partner,” you smiled. “I’m not a jealous person. You’ve given me no reason to question your intentions, and I trust that you aren’t going to. Van and I are in a committed relationship, and so are you. There’s no reason for anyone to mess with that, and no reason we can’t all be friends.”

Taissa stayed silent, an unreadable expression on her face.

“I’ll give you some time,” you said gently, patting her knee. “If you need anything, you know where to find us.”

“Thank you,” Taissa breathed just as you started down the staircase. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

“Why are you helping me?” She was staring at you now, her expression cautious and probing. You sighed.

“Because you’re important to Van,” you answered. “She’s everything to me. So if she says she’s going to help you, then I’m going to help you. If she goes, I go.”

Taissa’s face became unreadable again, and you headed back downstairs without a word.

“Hey, where’s your soda?” Van asked.

“I didn’t end up getting one. Taissa’s phone call didn’t go well.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah, I tried to help, but I think she just needs some space. I can’t imagine what she’s going through.”

“Yeah, it’s… a lot,” Van said sadly. “And she never lets anyone in, so she just makes it that much worse.”

“Let’s hope we can get through to her and help her this time. Just like you did before,” you smiled, putting your arm around Van’s shoulder and kissing her cheek. She nodded distractedly, staring at the floor.

“Yeah. Yeah, I hope so.”

Hours passed as Taissa lay on the couch, thinking about everything… or nothing at all, she couldn’t tell the difference.

“Taissa?”

At the sound of Van’s voice, Taissa scrambled to her feet, smoothing her (your) shirt timidly.

“Y/N told me what happened,” she said gently. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Taissa sighed. “I’m not.”

“I’m sorry,” Van said, walking over to sit on the couch. Taissa sat next to her awkwardly. “Do you want to tell me about him?”

“Who, Sammy?”

“Yeah. What’s he like?”

“Okay,” Taissa smiled gratefully. “Well, he’s smart. And so creative. He loves drawing. We have to buy him a new box of crayons every few months, he goes through them so fast. And he, uh… he hasn’t been lately, but he’s such a happy kid. And funny too; he loves telling jokes and stories. I mean, his imagination is limitless. When he was in first grade, his class had a writing contest and he won first place for his story about a robot kingdom. And he’s already reading at a sixth-grade level! He was the first one in his grade to start reading chapter books.”

“Sounds like he takes after you.”

“Yeah, not all the time. He hates soccer,” Taissa smirked. “I signed him up when he was five, and half the time he wasn’t even on the right side of the field.”

“Oh no, really?” Van chuckled.

“Yeah, no matter how much I pushed him from the sidelines he was completely uninterested. One game he was actually playing pretty well, and then he just stopped. And at first, I thought he was hurt or something, but then he pointed up at the sky and shouted, ‘Mommy, look! That cloud looks like an elephant!’”

Van laughed. “Well in his defense, a cloud that looks like an elephant is pretty cool.”

“True,” Tai chuckled. “But the game was tied! He could’ve scored the winning goal, one of his teammates passed it to him and everything!”

“Do they even keep score when they’re that young?”

“I was.”

“Of course you were,” Van smirked. “You haven’t changed.”

Taissa glanced down at her lap. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Van said softly, rubbing her back with a smile. “Anytime. Now, Y/N and I were going to figure out dinner before we get the store set up for the movie. Would you care to join us?”

“Sure,” she smiled.

True to your word, you insisted on showing Taissa the city, starting with the best Mexican restaurant in town. It was indeed delicious, and the three of you spent the whole night talking and laughing, last night’s awkwardness all but disappeared. The movie night turnout was impressive, as the store quickly filled with adults looking to relive their childhoods and teens who had no idea what they were in for. Taissa grinned from the back row as she watched you and Van present the film to the eager audience. It was the same way Van used to present movies to the team at sleepovers. It almost looked rehearsed, the way you two traded lines with such perfect timing. The audience was eating it up, and by the time the movie started, Taissa had forgotten about the phone call.

“That was amazing,” Taissa said as you and Van joined her in the back row. Van grinned and patted her shoulder as she sat next to her.

“Thanks,” you smiled.

“Y’know, this is my favorite documentary,” Van whispered in her ear.

“Oh, shut up,” Tai scoffed, slapping her playfully. Van giggled. Tai rolled her eyes and shook her head, thinking for the first time that she was glad she had come.

[the-coffeeaddict-tim-drake]

Just A Kid Next Door - Chapter 8

Bruce is finally back from being stuck in the time stream. Tim managed to save Batman and his loved ones. Now it is time for Tim to go home and rest. But the problem is that, Tim has no home. Or that's what he thinks so.

This will be a multichapter fic on how did Tim reconcile with his family. It will be full of angst, family feels and family shenanigans.

Masterlist

Here in the link to read the story in ao3.

-------------------------------CHAPTER 8---------------------------------

Jason was making his way back to his apartment after a tiresome patrol, but the former crimelord's mind was fully consumed by complex thoughts about his so-called family. He was clearly baiting on whether or not to go and see Bruce.

"I know you are following me, Dickward" Jason hissed, settling on the rooftop of a building.

 The figure behind him gave no indication of any acknowledgement. Turning back, Jason removed his helmet, his identity concealed by the domino mask which he always wore underneath his helmet and shook his head casually to get rid of sweat.

"What do you want? Did the Old man send you to keep an eye on me, making sure I fucking kill no one huh? "

"Why didn't to come to Manor?" Dick asked.

"Why should I?"

Dick let out a long sigh.

"Please, Jas-Hood. We thought we lost Bruce, we mourned for him, I know you mourned for him, so don't even try to fool me by saying you don't care."

Jason did not know what to say for that. Sure he missed  Bruce very much, but his ego was far too big for him to set aside the issues between them.

Did he forgive Bruce for what he did?

No. And he don’t think he ever will.

But did he understand why Bruce did so?

Maybe.

"I don't think the old man even wants to see me in the first place" Jason murmured

"Wha- No that's-" Dick was interrupted by the sound of blaring alarm coming from Jason's wrist.

"Welp, it was definitely not nice talking to you, but I gotta go. See ya dickface" Jason jumped of the building and grappled his way towards his apartment.

Jason did the best thing by installing sensor alarm all over his apartment so that he would know when Tim tries to break into his apartment next time. And he was correct. This time he is planning on locking that kid in his apartment till he gets his answers.

When Jason entered his apartment through the broken window, he was expecting Tim, but he was surprised to find three other figures.

The superman's clone ran towards Jason, and before he could react, Jason got punched in his gut.

"What are you doing here?" Superboy demanded, holding Jason by the collar of his jacket.

"You are the one to ask? It's where I fucking live, Cloneboy"

"What?"

Kon left Jason and took a step back.

"Why would Tim ask us to bring him here then?” Kon asked, to nobody in general.

"Where is he?" Jason inquired

"Who?" Kon gave a confused glance to Jason

"Brittney spears, duh, Big brain. I'm asking for Red Robin. “Jason scoffed.

"Don't even dare to take a step closer to him" Kon sneered, taking a step closer to Jason, trying to be intimidating.

Oh right, he totally forgot about the titans tower incident. Tim forgave him for that a long time ago. He was strongly under the effects of the pit. Guess his little friends didn't know about that.

"Look, we resolved tha-"

"We need your help" Wondergirl interrupted them, shouting from the kitchen.

"Look, I'm not trying to hurt Tim anymore. If Tim himself has brought you here, it might be of a reason, okay. Chill out and let me go"

Superboy seemed to think for a moment, before letting Jason go to the kitchen.

On his kitchen counter was Tim sprawled on, unconscious, and bleeding. His counter top was messy with blood dripping.

"Fuck" Jason muttered.

"Hewasstabbed" Bart said, swiftly coming near Jason.

Another day in the life of a bat themed vigilante.

"Scoot over" Jason said to Cassie, inspecting the wound.

Jason took over stitching the wound with ease, due to years of practice and experience.

"Care to explain how the fuck this happened?" Jason asked, his eyes focused on the stab wound.

"He was trying to take over a bunch of bad guys on his own, knowing he was clearly outnumbered, and got stabbed by one of them."

"He called for help?"

"Actually no, we came to Gotham to check on him, you know make sure he is alive and all, but couldn't find him so I traced him with the sound of his heartbeat." Kon told.

This did not surprise Jason at all. Tim is a fucking over independent and self-reliant idiot.  

"Why not bring him to the Batcave?" Jason asked, already knowing the answer.

"I don't know man, he woke up in the middle and strongly suggested to come here, which was quite concerning, given the fact that he was completely knocked out previously” Kon muttered, exasperated.

Jason cut the remaining thread with his teeth and carried Tim over to the guest room, laid him on the bed and started removing the rest of his suit.

“Stop staring and help me out, will ya” Jason said

“Oh yeah, right”

Meanwhile Jason removed his helmet and mask as Kon was removing Tim’s suit.

Cassie let out a loud gasp followed by Bart’s ‘Oh shit’

Lying on the bed in his underpants, Tim’s chest and torso had multiple scarring and fresh bruises, which by he looks of it seemed to have happened recently.

Kon was just staring at Tim, his eyes never leaving the scars and bruises which littered his friend’s skin.

But Jason...

Jason was angry, angry at the person who did this to his little brother, angry at Tim for letting it happen, knowing that his dumbass purposefully avoided asking for any help and he was angry at himself for not being there from him, not protecting his little brother.

“I uh, Why don’t we go the living room and talk about what actually happened, huh?” Jason suggested, trying to break the silence.

“Uh, yeah, that sounds better” Bart said, sounding unsure.

The three of them exited the room, Kon reluctant leave to Tim’s side.

“You too, Cloneboy”

“Yeah” Kon said, his voice laced with worry.

The four of them settled themselves in the living room comfortably, each of them nursing a cup of tea, courtesy of Jason because he is a fucking great host.

“So, cash or card?” Jason asked.

“For what?” Bart asked, stuffing his face with the junk food from his pantry, which Jason was sure he didn’t give to him.

“My Window, it’s broken”

“Aww man, aren’t you a son of a billionaire or something?” Bart asked, sounding offended.

“I’ve never seen Tim like this before” Kon interrupted, his eyes on the carpet and his tea left untouched on the coffee table, sounding defeated.

The whole room fell into silence.

“Yeah, it was dangerous, the way he fought, it was- it was almost like he didn’t care if he got hurt” Cassie broke the silence, her voice sounding small.

“He is so closed off, like I know he values his privacy but I’ve never seen him be this stoic. He shows no emotion, don’t care about himself, avoiding everything and everyone, it’s just – it’s so frustrating. I just, I don’t know what happened to him while I was – while I was dead, but he is not the same person anymore, I feel like he just gave up on himself” Kon said, angry at himself.

Jason didn’t know what to do. Superboy was correct. His brother is definitely not the same person anymore.

“I want him back… I just want my Rob back. The Tim who was awkward and just don’t know when to shut up, the Tim who puts everyone in their place with his wits, the Tim who never stops trying, I just- I want him back.” Kon said, sounding in the verge of breaking down.

Jason felt bad. He never knew how Tim used to be before, as he was already pretty messed up when the two were trying to patch up. But Jason knew he wasn’t this bad. The replacement has always been quite cheerful and irritating.

His brother seems to share a special bond with these kids, Jason thought.

Cassie was silently crying and Bart had long back given up eating, now pacing back and forth.

“What really happened when we both were dead?” Bart asked, pointing to him and Kon.

Honestly speaking, Jason didn’t know. The replacement just started distancing himself from others after his friends died, and Jason still don’t forgive himself for giving his little brother some space to grieve. He should have scooped Tim up and let him cry on his shoulder.

“We both were in a bad place after you died” Cassie said, wiping off the tears, which made Kon look at her intently.

“We just didn’t know what to do, we didn’t know how to grieve. It was so hard. We were just expected to continue living as if nothing had happened, as if we weren’t snatched two of our family members. The tower, which was an escape haven to all of us, became hell. Every wall, every window, every little things reminded us of how happy we were once.  Reminded us how everything changed in an instant” Now Cassie was shaking, her body wrecked by sobs.

Both Kon and Bart went over to where Cassie was sitting. Kon sat down on the carpet and took Cassie’s hands, massaging it and Bart sat next to her and threw a comforting hand around her shoulder.

“And it was hard, it was so hard…so I joined a cult”

“YOU WHAT?!?” Kon and Bart shouted at the same time.

Now Jason can see why Tim is friends with her.

“But Tim was worse…he was in denial, he was not ready to accept and he kept on going as if..., he pretended that everything was normal, just like how he was when Jack Drake died. But that was all pretending. Deep down, he was broken. He buried down all of his feelings. He was so crazy and in order to fill the void he started cloning you both and I came t-

“HE FUCKING DID WHAT?!?” Now it was Jason’s time to shout.

Sure Tim is a little weird and stupid but this whole cloning thing is just extreme level of stupidity, even for him.

Kon was as pale as a sheet of paper, his whole demeanour stiff. Jason feels bad for him. He knew cloning was a sensitive topic for the kid and hearing that his best friend tried to do that again was not an easy thing to hear.

The whole room was enveloped by silence, each person trying to accept what they just heard.

Kon was he one to break the silence.

“Was he- was he successful?” Kon asked, his voice shaking.

“…No, he would have, but then I found out, so I stopped him. We had a huge fight, which resulted in us leaving the tower.”

Kon let out a long breath in relief.

“I joined the cult after that and Tim went back to Gotham….and within a day, Batman was found dead.” Cassie said.

“And he got so crazy, he kept on telling everyone that batman was alive even after we found his body and buried him. He cut off all his ties with everyone, me, Dick, even Alfred. I tried to convince him, but he was not ready to accept. After that he just left Gotham.”

“But he was right, wasn’t he? Batman is indeed alive.” Jason said

“Yeah” Cassie said, her voice sounding small.

“That Bastard is always right”

Kon, Cassie and Bart ended up sleeping on the couch that night, all reluctant to leave their friend alone.

It was almost dawn when Jason decided to call it a night and let sleep take over him, but was interrupted by a notification sound from his personal phone.

Sighing, Jason rolled over to see who decided to text him at this ungodly hour.

Unknown number:

Todd, it is of utmost importance that we talk.

Jason:

What the fuck do you want now, gremlin?

Damian:

The matter of discussion is Drake.

Jason sat up, felling very awake.

Jason:

What about Tim?

Damian:

I discovered something that belongs to him… from his time as Robin.

Jason:

And???

Damian:

The content…is quite disturbing. I would very much like your assistance on this matter.

Damian:

We shall meet at the Drake manor.

Jason:

kk. See you in Drake Manor before patrol tonight.

Putting his phone aside, Jason tried his very best to fall asleep.

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 2) Chapter Seventeen

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter Seventeen: Desperate Decisions

Summary: Sherlock and Moriarty face one another.

Mouse Note: Do I feel sorry? Maybe a tiny bit because I made myself upset. But not really.

            Sherlocks hands were shaking as he typed out the message. He had figured out how Moriarty had gotten into the Tower of London, the bank, and the prison. He had the key, and now he could use it against Moriarty. Sherlock could bring (Y/N) home.

Come and play. Bart’s Hospital rooftop. Got something of yours you might want back. -SH

            Sherlock took a deep breath. He was tired, weighed down by stress and fatigue from all the investigations he’d gone through in the last twenty-four hours. But once (Y/N) was home safe and sound with him and Moriarty was finally behind bars where he deserved, it wouldn’t matter. Sherlock just wanted his kid back.

            He’d do anything.

l

            (Y/N) regained their senses when a bright light was turned onto their face. They flinched at the sudden overwhelming stimulation, but they didn’t close their eyes. Instead, (Y/N) narrowed their eyes and stared forward until their sight adjusted and they saw Moriarty staring at them. They were lying on a small bed in a small, dark room.

            Undoubtedly, this “cell” was just another punishment from Moriarty meant to show that he was in control of (Y/N) now. Unfortunately for Moriarty, they weren’t going to break that easily.

            “Morning, darling,” said Moriarty, kneeling by (Y/N)’s slumped figure.

            They narrowed their eyes and tried to insult him, but the words couldn’t come out. The drug was still abating, and (Y/N) still couldn’t completely control themself.

            Moriarty chuckled, amused at their powerlessness.

            Of course he is, thought (Y/N). He’s a monster. They shivered. That monster’s blood ran in their veins. It disgusted them.

            “I thought you’d want to know I have a meeting with Sherlock today,” said Moriarty.

            (Y/N) looked up in alarm. His tone…He was planning something. Sherlock was in danger. “No…” they croaked, forcing the words from their throat. “Leave him…alone.”

            Moriarty sighed with faux concern. “I gave Sherlock a chance to back off and leave our family alone.” (Y/N)’s lip curled at the familial tone. “He just can’t seem to give up.”

            (Y/N)’s heart leapt for joy. Sherlock was still trying to get them back. He wasn’t abandoning them. Their dad was going to save them.

            “So I think the time’s come for me to end our game,” said Moriarty. “I had fun, truly, but now I have to focus on you. It’s a new age, a new game, a family game.” Moriarty smirked. “Don’t worry, darling, Sherlock won’t be a problem after this. It’ll be family time.”

            “Fuck…you. Sherlock will win…” growled (Y/N).

            Moriarty tutted. “We’ll have to work on your language and respect. What has he been teaching you?” He patted (Y/N)’s head, and they recoiled. “Ciao. This won’t be long. Sherlock will be out of the way soon.” He left the room, and the door slammed shut, plunging (Y/N) into shadows once more.

            But they knew where the light was, now, and its configuration.

            (Y/N) dragged themself to their feet. They were escaping this shithole. (Y/N) felt around for the light. The switch was outside the room, but the bulb was placed to shine into their face. Taking a deep breath, they braced themselves and broke the bulb with a fist. Luckily, no glass did anything more than scratch them.

            They could feel blood on their skin, but (Y/N) continued forward. From the design of the light, they pulled a small pin. (Y/N) could pick the lock with this. Ignoring the slight pain of the cuts on their hands, (Y/N) worked on the lock of their cell. Relief flooded through them as they heard a soft click and pushed the door open.

            It only lasted for a moment, though. They needed to go out a window and over a stone wall next to really escape the premises. (Y/N) rolled up their sleeves and pushed open the window, grabbing their phone from the side table where a guard had thrown it. They refused to remain trapped. They’d risk it all to get away from Moriarty.

l

            Sherlock walked out onto Bart’s roof. Unsurprisingly, Moriarty had beaten him there and was lounging beside the ledge of the roof while Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees played from his phone. It frustrated Sherlock to see Moriarty so calm and relaxed. He wanted him to be afraid, to pay for what he’d done to all the people he’d destroyed his way to power, to know (Y/N) would never be his child.

            “Ah, here we are at last,” said Moriarty, grinning. He sighed. “I’m a little disappointed this was so easy. I thought you’d be more difficult.” He shrugged. “But, then again, that’s why I liked playing with darling (Y/N) more.” He smirked. “I’m excited to see what they can do.”

            Sherlock narrowed his eyes but didn’t lash out as he wanted to. He needed to keep calm and handle the situation. Tense, Sherlock tapped his fingers in a simple little beat.

            “Good, you got that,” said Moriarty.

            “Beats like digits. Every beat is one; every rest is zero. Binary code. It was hidden on me—a few simple lines of computer code that can break into any system.” Sherlock’s gaze was full of a malevolent cunning he had never had a reason to display until now. “I can use it to alter records. I can bring Moriarty the criminal back and erase Moriarty the ‘father.’ ”

            Moriarty was silent before a grin broke out. “Oh, no, no, no! Oh, no! You didn’t catch it?” Sherlock faltered. “This is too easy. There is no key, Doofus!” He began to cackle with glee. “Those digits are meaningless. They’re utterly meaningless. You don’t really think a couple of lines of computer code are gonna crash the world around our ears? I’m disappointed. My dear child wouldn’t have fallen for it.”

            “But the rhythm—” began Sherlock.

            “Partita No. 1. Thank you, Johann Sebastian Bach,” said Moriarty. He was grinning and laughed again. “God, who would have known that to get Sherlock Holmes on his knees all you need is a wild goose chase to make him feel better and a kid?”

            “But then how did you—”

            “Then how did I break into the Bank, to the Tower, and to the Prison? Daylight robbery,” said Moriarty. He shrugged. “All it takes is willing participants.”

            Sherlock furrowed brow in frustration. He had fallen for it, the idea that everything was clever for Moriarty. But the answer had been obvious: bribery and blackmail. He should have known that would be Moriarty’s plan.

            “I knew you’d fall for it,” said Moriarty. “That’s your weakness—you always want everything to be clever.” He smirked and gazed at Sherlock cruelly. “That and you were a tad bit distracted worrying about the stray you took in.” He tutted. “You really must be careful, Sherlock. You’ve gotten soft.” He shrugged. “No matter. It will all be over soon.”

            “No, it won’t. You won’t win,” said Sherlock. “I won’t let you keep (Y/N).”

            “Yes, you will,” said Moriarty, smiling. “Because I’ll kill them if you keep trying to come after us. Oh, and all the rest of your little friends.”

            Sherlock stilled. (Y/N)…dead? The mere idea made him sick. He’d be consumed by guilt and all the emotions he kept at bay if they were gone. They were his child, his family. If anything were to happen to (Y/N), Sherlock would truly break.

            “Don’t worry, don’t worry, I know how protective you are, so I’ll give you another option,” said Moriarty cheerfully. “You die. You die and leave me and my dear child alone, then everyone lives. A happy ending for everyone involved!”

            “(Y/N) isn’t happy with you,” hissed Sherlock. “You’re trying to turn them into a monster like you. That’s not who they are.”

            “Maybe not now, but they’ll learn that I expect certain things from my family,” said Moriarty. He checked his watch casually. “In fact, I should get back soon. They’re still learning a lesson.”

            Sherlock’s blood ran cold. “What did you do to them?” he snarled, pulling out the gun he’d taken from Lestrade.

            Moriarty held up his hands playfully. “Remember Sherlock, if I’m dead and you’re alive, everyone else dies.”

            “What did you do?” repeated Sherlock forcefully.

            Moriarty shrugged. “Just a little bit of drugs to keep them quiet and understanding how easy it is to get rid of them. They were being…difficult.”

            Sherlock felt a rush of pride in (Y/N)’s willpower flood through him, but it was overwhelmed by the anger at Moriarty drugging them. They had trauma surrounding drugs, and to know they were being put through the effects of them made Sherlock’s blood boil. He knew they would be afraid and anxious, and he wanted to be there to help them.

            Instead, he was stuck here with Moriarty, faced with either killing Moriarty like he wanted to and losing (Y/N) to death or killing himself and knowing (Y/N) he lost them to Moriarty.

            Moriarty grinned with all the evil in the world resting in his eyes. “I can see your mind working. You think you can find a way to have it all. I’m afraid I’ve proved I’m too clever for you, Sherlock.”

            “No, I can’t have it all,” said Sherlock quietly.

            Moriarty’s grin widened. “Oh, this is beautiful. Seeing you realizing you lost. It’s better than I could have imagined. I thought seeing you after I took (Y/N) home was great, but this is better.”

            “I can’t have it all, but I can still give (Y/N) a chance.”

            Bang!

            Sherlock savored the split-second surprise on Moriarty’s face before the bullet hit him. He watched Moriarty’s body hit the ground with satisfaction. He took a deep breath and look up at the sky.

            He was next. He dropped the gun to the ground distastefully. It felt wrong to die the same way that monster had. Sherlock stepped up onto the hospital roof edge.

            And that’s when his phone rang. His heart skipped a beat as he saw (Y/N) calling. He knew he likely only had a few minutes, but he couldn’t resist saying goodbye.

            “Dad?” said (Y/N), and Sherlock had never been so happy to hear their voice.

            “(Y/N)…” breathed Sherlock.

            “Dad! I got out, I got away, I’m near Bart’s hospital, I’m worried Moriarty will—” (Y/N) began talking quickly.

            “Moriarty is dead,” said Sherlock.

            “He is?” (Y/N) was so relieved they could cry.

            “I killed him,” said Sherlock. He gazed down and saw them standing on the street corner. “Look up, (Y/N).” He needed to really see them before he left.

            (Y/N) looked up, and their heart stopped as they saw Sherlock standing on the ledge. Their eyes widened as they realized what was happening.

            “Dad…please don’t do this. Whatever Moriarty threatened, I’m sure we can stop it,” pleaded (Y/N).

            “No, (Y/N). We can’t,” said Sherlock softly. His heart broke at the sob they tried to suppress.

            “Dad…” said (Y/N) desperately.

            “Listen to me, (Y/N). Listen,” said Sherlock. He swallowed. “We only have a moment, and I need you to listen.” Silence. Sherlock took a deep breath and began.

            “You are not Moriarty’s child. He wants you to believe you are and lose yourself in the monstrous life he created,” said Sherlock. “But you’re not. You’re smart, yes, intelligent and clever and cunning and no one stands a chance against you. You’re going to grow into such an amazing detective.

            “But you’re also good. You’re such a good person.” Sherlock laughed. “You’re better than me. You try to help people. And I’m so proud of you for it. I’m so glad you’re going to be there to help people.

            “But don’t forget people are there for you, too, alright? John, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, even Mycroft—they’re your family. They’re there for you. They all helped me trying to bring you back,” said Sherlock. “So don’t forget that, alright? You don’t have to try to do everything by yourself. You’re so very strong, but you’re a kid. The world doesn’t rest on your shoulders.”

            (Y/N) covered their mouth, tears beginning to fall no matter how much they tried to push back the onslaught of overwhelming misery. “Dad, please, don’t do this.”

            “I’m so glad you came into my life,” said Sherlock, taking a deep breath. He wouldn’t cry. He had to be strong for them. “I’m so proud to have you as my kid. I love you, (Y/N).”

            (Y/N) felt their heart shatter at the words. “I love you, Dad. Please, please, don’t go!”

            “I love you,” repeated Sherlock, turning off his phone. He looked out at the sky and took a step.

            And (Y/N)’s world came crashing down around them with a scream of pure anguish.

Taglist:

@stilesstilinskiforlife-blog

@im-making-an-effort

@ilse235

@schrodingers-intelligence

@awsedrftgyhujikol

[hedgiwithapen]

There's no family reunion like a Thawne family reunion, because either your spirit is dead or someone else is.

(A missing Flashforward from Trade All My Tomorrows!, a Flash s1 au feat: even more time traveling Thawnes than the show!) "You'll be safe here," his uncle Mal had promised. Bart didn't care if it was a lie or not, he didn't want to be here. The room was small, windowless. The lights hummed and flickered and made his ears hurt.  The bed was soft and full of pillows, but he couldn't sleep. It wasn't his bed. He didn't have his rabbit lovie, with the soft soft ears. He knew his parents hid things from him. He knew things were getting worse and worse in the city, even if he couldn't say exactly how. His friends stopped visiting. Mom and Dad's stories about his grandparents got more wistful. 

Wistful was one of his vocabulary words, only not really. He'd read it in a book, not at school. But it still counted. Dad said all learning counted. Bart hugged his knees, sitting carefully on the floor by the bed. He’d pulled back the thick blue carpet early, looking for anything he could use. The unyielding tile floor underneath was cold then, and cold now. Bart tapped his toes in a pattern, once, pause, twice, pause, once-twice, pause. It was something he could do when he couldn't run, something Dad and Auntie Dawn had taught him when they'd figured out he was like them. 

He missed the sparks of lightning that twisted around his feet when he did it fast enough, but the heavy metal and plastic dampener around his wrist stopped that. One of the soldiers who stayed two steps back from his uncle, had told him he was receiving Special Privileges, and not to try taking it off or he’d get a dampener like the others. Bart knew that meant a collar, and it made his neck itch to think of.

The door slid open with a loud beep and the accompanying heavy click. His uncle smiled down at him, holding up a bag. Behind him stood the same soldier from before, in ARGUS gray and black.

“Hey, kiddo. I brought your favorite.”

Bart’s stomach growled. He shoved his face into the crook of his arm, not looking up.

“Go ‘way,” he said quietly.

“Buddy,” his uncle crouched in front of him. “I know you’re sad. But you’ve gotta eat something. They’d want you to --”

“You killed them!” Bart yelped, his small hand lashing out. “Don’t talk about--the--you’re--we’re s’posed to be family.” “We are family, Buddy,” Malcolm said. “None of this is your fault.”

Bart sniffled. He knew that. He knew that.

“So just eat something, ok?  Great-Grandpa and I are going to fix things so you can come home, real soon.  Is there anything you want?”

“I want my mom.”

Malcolm sighed. “I know, kiddo. I tried to save her from this.”

“Liar,” Bart said, finally looking up. He could almost feel the lightning in his eyes, but it wouldn’t come.

Malcolm put the Big Belly Burger bag on the table. “Eat something, ok?  I’ll bring you some books tomorrow.”

He turned to leave, but before he could swipe his card, alarms began to blare. 

[corner-stories]

hand-me-downs

Irey West. Wally West. Bart Allen. morning routines. breakfast. vintage clothing. 1408 words. (ao3.)

It was a truth universally acknowledged that mornings at the West-Park household were never anything but hectic — whether the chaos stemmed from a slept-through alarm or from someone wanting extra time in the bathroom.

Speaking of which, Irey West found it particularly hard to finish brushing her hair while her brother knocked on the bathroom door. Judging by the heavy sound of each knock, she guessed that he had utilized the trusty lacrosse stick left on the clutter in the hallway. 

Which was strange, because no one in the house actually played lacrosse. 

“Irey, no fair!” came Jai’s voice from behind the locked door. “You can’t hog the bathroom every morning!” 

Irey rolled her eyes as she proceeded to tie her hair into a ponytail. 

Soon enough, the rampant knocking stopped and Irey heard her father’s voice from behind the door. 

“Hey, buddy! Come on, help us make breakfast.” 

Irey chuckled before finishing her routine and leaving the bathroom. After heading down the stairs she came to the kitchen to see her mother, father, and a very annoyed Jai working in the kitchen. 

Wally was in the midst of cooking several speedster-sized servings of eggs and bacon at the stove, Linda was packing turkey sandwiches into two separate lunch boxes, and Jai was buttering toast while giving his sister a death glare.

As per usual, Irey walked up to her father at the stove and began helping with the scrambled eggs. Even at the tender age of thirteen, she was getting quite good getting the texture just right. 

“Why do you always take so long, Irey?” Jai asked, annoyed. “I don’t get it, you never did that before.”

“You’d get it if Tracey Jenkins started spreading rumors about you,” Irey replied as she stirred the eggs with a rubber spatula.

With a slight frown on her face, Irey wondered which one of her classmate’s past insults had hurt the most. The time she asked if the West-Park family owned a bar of soap? Or the time Tracey joked that Irey had to share a toothbrush with her brother? 

Her teacher moving her seat to the back of the class helped, but it couldn’t prevent Irey from seeing Tracey in the hallways. It didn’t help that their lockers were inconveniently close to each other. 

“Is she still bothering you?” asked Linda from the other side of the kitchen. “I thought we talked to her parents already.” 

“It’s fine, Mom, Tracey’s just being a big stupid bit—” Irey started, then suddenly stopped. She looked to the side and met her father’s gaze. 

Wally looked comically intrigued as he anticipated how his daughter would end her sentence. 

“I mean, she’s not being nice,” Irey soon corrected, which caused her father to smile, amused. 

“Good save.” 

After a few moments of synchronized egg scrambling, bacon frying, toast buttering, and turkey sandwich packing, the back door leading into the kitchen opened. As per usual, Bart Allen entered the West-Park household with his backpack slung over his shoulder and his smile exuding the energy of a beagle who just found a bone buried in the backyard. 

“Good morning, y’all!”

Ever since Bart started doing drop-offs, Irey wondered if she should start playing sitcom music every time he came by the house. At the same time, she also wondered if the nights she spent watching reruns of That’s So Raven with her father were starting to affect how she viewed the world. 

“Morning!” greeted Linda as she slipped a third turkey sandwich into her son’s lunchbox. “Can you help Jai butter toast?” 

Bart shrugged, but managed to do what he was told. He slipped off his backpack and quickly rummaged through it, pulling out what looked to be a pillowcase containing a few items. He then tapped Irey on the shoulder and handed her the sack.

“Yo, Baby Red, Jesse told me to give these to you.” 

After quickly plating the scrambled eggs, Irey turned off the stove and turned around to accept the pillowcase. Despite seeing Bart hand a similar bag to Jai last week, opening the case to see various articles of clothing had caught her by surprise. 

“More hand-me-downs?” 

“Yeah, she visited her mother’s last week and found ‘em in storage,” Bart explained as he walked up to Jai. “She thought you’d like them.” 

“Now that’s super nice of her,” said Wally, gently nudging his daughter. “What do you say, Irey?”

Now slightly distracted, Irey went to the kitchen island and sat on one of the stools. She rummaged through the clothes, most of which seemed to be old t-shirts and a few plaid button-fronts. Irey could even recall seeing the old striped Mets jersey in the photographs framed in Aunt Jesse’s house. 

Some of the clothes seemed to be in Irey’s size while others weren’t — one of which seemed to be a light blue denim jacket hidden at the bottom of the sack. At the rate Irey was growing, it would be about two or three years before she actually could actually wear it. 

“Thank you,” Irey said plainly, keeping her eyes on the worn jacket. 

As Bart buttered toast, he looked to his little ginger cousin and was immediately able to read between the lines (which for him wasn’t usually that easy).

“You don’t like ‘em,” Bart immediately deduced. 

Irey was quick to shake her head. “No, no! They’re nice!” 

She tried her best to shake the image currently trapped in her head — one that depicted Tracey Jenkins laughing at how Irey dressed as well as she could brush her hair. Irey didn’t know what to do if said image ever became a reality, as she certainly didn’t want to be punished for throwing Tracey’s pencil case out the window for a third time. 

“Is that little mouthy kid giving you shit again?” asked Bart, which earned a slight glare from Linda. “Want me to talk to her for ya?”

For comical effect, he put down the bread and butter and cracked the knuckles on his hand. It would have been intimidating had it come from anyone but the gangly, mop-headed teenager who walked into a glass door last week. At least Jai got a good laugh out of it. 

“Yes, Bart, we’d love for you to throw hands with a thirteen-year-old,” Wally chimed in with his signature snark. After finishing the bacon, he walked to the island and placed the food on a platter. 

He then put a gentle hand on his daughter’s shoulder and said — “Honey, listen — if Tracey Jenkins keeps bothering you then we’ll just talk with her parents again, okay?” 

Irey took in a breath, but nodded along. “Okay.”

Eventually, Linda finished filling her childrens’ lunchboxes and approached the kitchen island.

“Yes, and in the meantime how about we wash these tonight and send you to school tomorrow looking nice?” she offered, affectionately ruffling Irey’s hair. 

Irey took in a few breaths as she put the clothes back in the sack. The sense of unease was still present inside of her, collecting in her stomach like a kind of sickness she couldn’t put a name to. But somehow, the feeling of her father’s kind touch and the sight of her mother’s warm gaze told her that everything would be fine. 

“Alright,” Irey decided, then put the bag of clothes aside. “Thank you.” 

Wally pressed a quick kiss to his daughter’s cheek, something she reacted to with a plain, unbothered expression. She was fairly used to the gesture by now, but deep down it still meant the world to her. 

“Great, now let’s eat,” said the patriarch of the West-Park household. 

And with that said, Jai and Bart brought the plate of buttered toast to the table and joined the other three. As per usual, the family fell into their usual roles during breakfast — Linda drizzled hot sauce onto her eggs, Jai cut his toast into perfectly proportioned triangles, Irey poured herself some orange juice, and Wally smacked Bart’s hand to prevent the teenager from wolfing down the bacon too soon. 

As everyone enjoyed their breakfast, Irey noticed her mother peering into the pillowcase of hand-me-downs left sitting on one of the chairs.

“Hey, Jai, don’t you wanna take a look in here?” asked Linda. 

Jai focused only on his triangular toast and shook his head. “I’ll pass, Aunt Jesse dresses like shit.” 

And to that, Irey nearly spat out her orange juice and stifled a laugh. 

[ponds-of-ink]

Bart, I don’t want to alarm you, but the offical FNAF Ruin Guidebook might’ve just been released today.

[dc-said-bi-robin-rights]

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP

Jaime Reyes, the superhero known the world as Blue Beetle, lazily throws an arm over his face as the alarm continues to go off next to his ear. He doesn’t wanna get up. It’s still so early…

“Jaime Reyes,” his Scarab chides, its flat machine-like voice perfectly audible even with the loud, insistent beeping in the background—which makes sense, given that’s its not actually speaking, but rather communicating directly with his mind. “It is almost—”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Jaime groans out loud, sitting up and rubbing the bleariness out of his eyes. He looks at his alarm clock, and his eyes widen. 3:15 in the afternoon. Damn.

“Tres y quince,” he mutters out loud, kicking the blankets away and leaning over to turn off his alarm clock. He missed breakfast, he knows, and is about to miss lunch too if he doesn’t hurry. “Conchale, Khaji, y porque no me despiertas?”

If it was possible for sentient alien WMDs to be irritable, he’s certain Scarab would be shorter-tempered than even Cassie is these days. “Jaime Reyes—”

“Ya, ya, ya,” he interrupts impatiently, waving Scarab off with a sweep of his hand and getting up to walk towards the closet. “Olvidalo, da igual, me visto y ya. Hormiga de miercoles…”

The Scarab mercifully doesn’t bother correcting him, and before long Jaime is sitting down in the living room across from Cassie and Tim, neither of whom spare him a glance, with Tim too busy with his tablet to even bother looking up and Cassie just melancholically glaring down at her food like it is the reason for the mess they’re all in. Jaime isn’t really surprised—no one on the team really spoke to each other all that much anymore after the incident down at the docks two months ago, but it still rankles him for reasons he can’t fully verbalize. Cassie killed someone. They should be trying to figure out what that meant, together, as a team, not closing themselves off in their own little worlds to process what happened by themselves.

He tries to just keep his head down and get with the program, he really does, but after ten long minutes in complete silence the awkwardness becomes too unbearable.

“Soo,” he tries, absentmindedly picking at his food with his fork. “Nice weather we’re having, huh?”

Great start, Jaime.

Cassie completely ignores him, which isn’t a surprise, but he does succeed in making Tim at least raise his head. “Do you need something, Jaime?” he asks neutrally, his eyes cool in a way they really shouldn’t be.

“I… no, I guess not,” he says uncertainly, off-put by the sudden coldness that came over Tim’s demeanor over such a bland, inoffensive statement as the one he just uttered. “Just…”

“Just what?” he asks.

It’s not aggressive.

It’s not Tim, either.

“Nothing,” he replies, swallowing thickly before getting up from the table. “I think I lost my appetite.”

“Did you?” He sounds so… bored. With Jaime. With everything. “That’s too bad.”

Jaime gathers up his plate and half-turns to the kitchen, getting more and more creeped out by the moment. “Right. I, um, I’m just gonna go, if that’s alright with the two of you.”

“Fine by me,” Tim says simply, lowering his gaze back to the tablet. “Just clean your plate before you put it in the dishwasher. We don’t want a repeat of the Bart incident.”

“Sure thing,” Jaime mutters absently as he turns and walking away, feeling Tim’s gaze burn into his back despite the fact he’s not even looking at him. “I’ll get right on it.”

He shakes his head as soon as he’s out of the room. What the hell was up with everyone lately?

~~

“And don’t do it again!” Eddie roars in a strangely deep voice, slamming the door in their faces. They hear it lock a moment later, and an awkward silence engulfs the hallway for a good ten seconds as he and Bart try to process the fact that Eddie Bloomberg just screamed at them over them knocking on his door to invite him to play video games.

“He’s…” Bart tries, before falling silent. Jaime doesn’t know what he was gonna say. Stressed? In a bad mood?

“Yeah, I bet he is,” Jaime mutters, not even completely sure of what he means by that, before tapping his fist against Bart’s shoulder and walking away. “Sorry, hermano. Another day.”

“Yeah,” Bart says quietly, still standing there staring at Eddie’s locked door like it held the keys to some great puzzle. “Another day.”

~~

Jaime holds a fist to his mouth in an attempt to stifle his chuckling as he walks towards M’gann room. In his hand he holds a long, rambling letter from his conspiracy nut uncle warning him about some supposed behind-the-curtain happenings in the military—generals being quietly sacked and replaced with no justification overnight or going missing outright, whole weapon caches disappearing from the official logs, tanks and airplanes being found irreparably damaged from one day to the next, that sort of thing. It’s nonsense, and it reads like the sort of thing a QAnonist might come up with. Jaime wants to do a dramatic reading of it in front of M’gann—he has a feeling they both need more reasons to smile these days, and the last time he read out one of his uncle’s fiery letters the sound of her helpless giggling made him unable to stop smiling for a whole week. Goofing off like that again will do them both good, he decides.

“Hey, chica, come look at this!” he calls out, knocking on her door twice in quick succession.

There’s no answer.

Jaime’s brows knit together in concern. “M’gann?”

Nothing.

“M’gann, come on!” he calls out, knocking frantically on her door, despite the fact that he knows he has to be in there—no one has seen her leave her room in days. “This isn’t funny!”

No answer. He tries the door. Locked.

She’d been burnt after the crisis, Jaime remembers. She’d said she’d be fine. She’d promised.

Please, not another one. We can’t take another one.

“Jaime Reyes,” the Scarab says, and he extends his arm as the left side of his suit materializes over his body. Thanks, Khaji, he thinks, flexing his fingers before curling them into a fist and smashing through the door with a single punch. He gropes blindly for the handle on the other side before his fingers settle around it. He twists, opening the door and walking inside.

The room beyond is empty and devoid of color, completely unlike what it had been the last time Jaime was here. All of M’gann’s belongings are gone, taken. There’s no body, no evidence whatsoever of a fight or of a wound gone bad. It’s as if she simply… vanished.

“M’gann?” Jaime whispers.

The curtains flap in the wind through the open window, the only movement in the lifeless room. It is his only answer.

~~

“Hey,” he greets Rose as he passes her in the hallway, handing her the coffee in his left hand but keeping the one in his right for himself. “Sleep well?”

“Not really,” she admits, taking it from his hands with a grateful nod. “You?”

Jaime sighs. “Not really.”

Nothing more needs to be said—what happened last night was horrible enough without needing to discuss it.

And still… he feels the urge to cover for his kind-of friend, even if what he did was seriously shitty, accident or not. “Listen, I’m sure Eddie thought he was being sweet when he… you know. Are you sure you want to drop him over it? You two were like best friends, right? Maybe if you ju—”

“If the next words out of your mouth are anything like what I think they’re about to be, it’s gonna be you that gets a broken nose next,” Rose warns, closing herself off so fast Jaime has to swallow hard to vanish the sudden dryness in her throat. “Drop it.”

“Fine, okay, sorry,” he says quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. “I won’t bring it up again.”

“Good.”

There’s a long silence, and then, “What are you going to do, then?” Jaime asks, biting his lip. “About Eddie, I mean.”

Rose snorts. “Whatever the hell that thing is, it sure as hell isn’t Eddie anymore.”

Jaime’s eyebrows rise his hairline. “The heck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nevermind,” she says, moving on before Jaime can press the topic. “I… probably punch someone who cares about me really hard, knowing me.” She pushes her hair back with one hand and sighs, a little bitterly. “It’s what I do best, it seems like.”

Jaime doesn’t dare touch that last part with a five foot pole. “You mean Cassie?”

“Might be best,” Rose agrees, taking a long sip from her coffee cup and licking her lips afterwards… before suddenly grinning widely at him. “Mmh, this is good. Thanks for making the trip, by the way. I know it wasn’t a short one.”

“I was going there anyway,” Jaime lies, wondering why Rose was acting so nice to him all of a sudden. Maybe it was the coffee? He might need to fetch her a cup more often if it meant she’d be nicer to him in the future.

“Uh huh,” she snorts, turning to walk away. “See you around, Jaime.”

“You too, Rose,” he replies, before something suddenly occurs to him. “Hey, wait a moment, actually.”

Rose stops, turning her head to look back at him. “Yeah?”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to spar with Cassie right now?” The image of her glaring furiously down at her plate for no reason at all flashes through his mind. “I don’t think she’s in a good mood today.”

“Worried about little old me now?” Her tone turns bitter again all of a sudden, so fast Jaime’s head spins trying to keep up with her sudden mood shifts. “And here I thought I ‘scared the poop out of you’.”

Jaime has the decency to look sheepish. “You… heard that, huh?”

“I did. So why don’t you keep your advice to yourself and let me worry about my own girlfriend, huh?” she sneers, walking away before Jaime can come up with a reply.

“Oh, come on, I didn’t even…” Jaime trails off. Wait. Girlfriend?

Huh.

That’s new.

Guess they finally got it over with.

And yet… hadn’t Rose told Cassie to never lay a hand on her again after they’d pulled her out of that vision? What was that about? Did they…

Oh, whatever, he thinks, mentally cutting himself off. It’s none of my business anyway.

He doesn’t think much of it until later, when he walks into the unisex bathroom on the fifth floor and sees Rose standing in front of the mirror dabbin at her face with a makeup stick in the dark.

“Uh,” he coughs, taking a step back towards the door. I didn’t even know Rose wore makeup. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here. I’ll, just, um—”

“Go in the stall,” she cuts him off, not turning to look at him. “I’m just using the mirror.”

“Uh, okay,” he says, too taken aback to argue. He turns towards the stall, but as he does so, he catches sight of Rose’s reflection in the mirror—and pauses misstep, his eyes widening.

Rose’s one good eye was encircled by the blackest, nastiest bruise he’d ever seen, so large and ugly the eye itself was nearly swelled shut. Jaime starts—he didn’t even know Rose could get bruised, had always assumed her healing factor would take care of any minor injuries like that before they became notable. He’s certainly never seen her with a bruise. Cuts, yeah. But bruises? Nope. Not once.

“Are you…” Jaime starts, his voice trailing away when Rose makes an annoyed noise in the back of her throat.

“Sparring injury. Don’t worry about it.”

“Sparing’s not supposed to leave injuries.”

“Well, it did this time,” Rose says impatiently, turning her head to glare at him. “Do you mind? I’m trying to do something here.”

Her words from earlier run through his mind. “Did Cassie…?”

Every muscle in Rose’s body tenses so suddenly he visibly flinches. “Did Cassie what?” she grinds out, her tone the angriest he’s ever heard from her.

Holy poop, I’m gonna die, he thinks first, quickly followed by, no, wait, Khaji, I’m fine, don’t deploy the suit.

“Well, did she, uh…” he starts, trailing off. It’s such a ridiculous thought he can’t even bring himself to voice it. Cassie can be pretty intense at times, sure, passionate, yeah, stubborn, absolutely, angry, definitely… but she wouldn’t let herself seriously hurt fellow Titans no matter how on edge she was. He quickly change tracks. “Y’know, go overboard a bit by accident?”

Rose relaxes so quickly it gives him whiplash. Her shoulders loosen, her features soften, her fists unclench… it’s like some higher entity flicked her anger switch off and reset her to an earlier mood. Before he can comment on this, she turns her face back to the mirror and goes back to dabbing at it with the stick. “It’s nothing I couldn’t take.”

That’s… not reassuring, either.

“You know you don’t have to ‘take’ anything from a teammate, right?” Jaime asks slowly, not only kind of alarmed now but quite frankly disturbed. A nagging voice in the back of his head keeps telling him something about this just… isn’t right. Rose has been so… off lately. It’s like someone crawled under her skin and found it a too-snug fit, like someone was sat down and told to study a list of all of Rose’s mannerisms and speech-isms without bothering to provide them with the context to them. “Much less from someone who’s supposed to be your partner in… well, everything.”

“Uh huh,” Rose says disinterestedly, turning her face this way and that to observe herself. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

There’s something strangely familiar in the way she’s…

A memory flashes in his mind’s eye. He had once walked in on Traci standing in front of the mirror, dabbing at a spot on her cheek with a stick just like the one Rose is using now.

“What’s that?” he had asked, pointing at it.

“Oh, this?” She had held it up. “It’s…”

Concealer.

It’s not makeup, he realizes with a start. It’s concealer!

Rose isn’t giving herself a foundation, she’s trying to cover up the bruise!

He… he shouldn’t point this out. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t, after how Rose just reacted to him even vaguely implying Cassie might have hurt her on purpose.

And yet…

“If it’s really just a sparring injury,” he says, very carefully, “why are you trying to cover it up?”

Rose stiffens. Very slowly, she drops the stick into the sink—Jaime can hear it clank against the marble—and grabs the edges of it. Then she just… stays like that, staring down at the sink like it was a divination pool in one of those shitty mmos people swore were supposed to be fun. Jaime waits, and waits, and waits, and just when he has given up on her ever answering and turned towards the door she speaks again, her voice quiet. “It made daddy feel guilty.”

His hand freezes on the doorknob. “What?”

“Looking at it,” she elaborates, like that explained anything. Jaime hears the creak of her gloves as her fingers tighten on the sink. “She… she didn’t mean to. She told me so.”

There’s a very long pause as Jaime turns around and just… stares at Rose.

“What did you just say?” he finally asks, just to make sure it wasn’t his imagination.

For a moment, nothing happens, and then Rose slightly turns her face, her one eye piercing Jaime with its intensity. He can’t move. He’s pinned in place, speared through the heart by the cold blue ice swimming in its depths. “What do you mean?”

“I… what you just said, it was…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rose says cooly. “I never said anything to you.”

“I…”

“Did you hear something, Jaime?” she asks slowly, and something about her voice makes Jaime feel like the bug his persona is named after.

“I…uh, I…”

“Did you?” she insists, her gloves creaking again, and suddenly Khaji Da is screeching alerts into his mind, demanding he summon the suit, threatening him with assuming direct control if he doesn’t comply. He forces his alien ride-along back as harshly as he can and takes a step back, then two.

“No,” he says, his voice almost a whisper, but he can’t for the life of him make it louder. His throat is so dry…

She looks amused. “No?”

“No, I didn’t,” he breathes. “I never heard you say anything.”

“I thought not.” Her lips slowly curl into a half-smirk, and like a switch, it’s Rose again. “See you later, Jaime.”

“I… see you later, Rose,” he breathes, blindly groping for the door knob, unwilling to turn his back to her after whatever the heck that was about. His fingers close around it and he hails it open, harder than he meant to, and he has to consciously slow down to cover up the terrified action before Rose is tipped off to his rapidly rising terror. He holds the door open with his foot and slowly starts exiting the room, keeping his eyes on Rose the entire time, like she’d change again if he looked away.

He waits until he hears the door shut behind him to breathe again, only now feeling the way his heart is pumping a mile a minute.

What the actual duck?

~~

He’s fully convinced himself the entire thing in the bathroom was some kind of cuckoo hallucination by the next day, despite Khaji doggedly insisting it wasn’t and requesting permission to label Rose as an enemy in his systems.

“For the last time, Khaji,” he says out loud as he pushes open the door to the gym—Cassie had gotten rid of the automatic doors some days ago, for reasons Jaime couldn’t really understand—something about buying newer, more reinforced models. “Rose isn’t…” he trails off, catching sight of the titular ex-mercenary running on her personal treadmill near the back wall, her hair pulled back, a towel slung around her bare shoulders. He smiles, reassured by such a normal sight; he’s scared poopless of Rose by his own admission, but just because he knows she could totally crack his skull like a watermelon if he put his head under her foot while she was running doesn’t mean he’s not still glad to see someone acting normally around here for once.

“Jaime Reyes, nothing about this situation is normal,” the Scarab warns, it’s robotic voice sounding actually frustrated. “Do not go near her. I repeat, do not—”

“Hey, Rose,” he calls out as he walks past her, receiving only a grunt in response. “What’s up?”

Khaji Da screeches it’s displeasure into his mind, but he pointedly ignores it.

“Nothing much,” Rose replies in between bouts of heavy breathing. Jaime looks at her machine’s display and sees she’s running at an average speed nearly twice that of Usain Bolt at his prime. “You?”

“Nothing much,” he says, reassured by how normal she’s acting that the whole thing in the bathroom was just his imagination. “I just felt like doing some weights today.

“Good for you,” Rose pants, a grin in her voice. “You could use some bulki—augh!”

Jaime turns to see something impossible—Rose Wilson collapsed on the ground, clutching her leg, having fallen off the treadmill like an amateur.

“Uh, you okay?” he asks hesitantly, more confused than concerned—he’d been pretty sure Rose was biologically incapable of being clumsy up until now.

“Fuck… off,” Rose spits, gritting her teeth and trying to stand… only to fall on her ass a second time with a pained grunt. It’s kind of embarrassing, actually.

“Hey, I’m just wondering if you’re okay,” Jaime protests, instead of voicing that particular out loud, because he’s not in fact suicidal.

“Well, stop wondering—I’m fine,” she snarls, trying to stand up again and failing for the third time. “Just… tripped. I…”

“Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da says in his mind, making Rose’s voice fade into the background. “I have detected information you might want to hear.”

“Spill,” he says out loud, cutting Rose off mid-sentence and earning himself “The Look”—his name for the weird looks people always gave him when he started seemingly talking to himself.

“Subject Rose “Ravager” Wilson has a severely torn muscle in her lower left calf,” it reports, “likely due to to significant overtaxing over a very short period of time.”

“That’s…”

“Not all,” the Scarab interrupts. “She also has several slightly older injuries that would typically require medical attention, including two cracked ribs, a bruised pelvis, and a fractured leg.”

Jaime rounds on Rose, incredulous. “You were running forty two miles an hour on a broken leg?!”

Rose scowls up at him. “How did you…?”

“Nevermind that,” Jaime interrupts, kneeling down in front to Rose and offering her his hand. “Are you insane or what?”

Rose slaps aside his hand and slowly, painfully, gets up on her own. “You don’t understand,” she grinds out, teeth gritted against the pain.

“Then help me understand,” he demands, reaching out to steady her as she stumbles. “You’re gonna kill yourself at this rate.”

“She needs me,” Rose snarls, pushing him away. “That’s worth a little pain.”

“Who, Rose?” he retorts, exasperated, feeling like he’s going insane. What the hell was up with everyone? “Who needs you so badly you’d kill yourself to help them?”

“Hey,” a familiar voice says, and he turns to see Cassie standing in the doorway. “Everything okay in here?

He doesn’t miss the way her eyes jealously linger on the closeness between him and Rose for a moment longer than excusable.

Jaime opens his mouth to say something like, “Did you do this to her?”, but Rose beats him to the punch.

“Everything’s fine, da—dear,” Rose assures her, and it’s so obviously such a not-Rose thing to say that Jaime seriously contemplates whether he’s actually still asleep and this isn’t some really weird dream.

“Good,” Cassie says, her eyes flickering again to Jaime before they round on Rose, “cause I was wondering if you wanted to spar again today.”

A flash of dread crosses Rose’s face, so obvious and unveiled even Cassie must have plainly caught it. “I’d love to.”

“Great!” Cassie beams, and the world’s not only gone off its axis, it’s detached completely and is currently heading towards a black hole. “Training room 3A?”

Rose gives a pained grin. “It’s a date.”

Cassie’s smile widens, and she turns and walks out of the room. Jaime turns to Rose, aiming to silently implore her not to go… only to find her already following after Cassie, trotting a bit—fractured leg notwithstanding—to keep up.

I’m in a freaking madhouse, Jaime realizes.

~~

Jaime taps his fingers against his leg, carefully not looking at either Conner or Bart, who are seated on the floor in front of him playing a fighting game. It’s his turn next, but try as he might, he finds he just can’t concentrate on that with everything that’s happened.

He tries to dismiss the urge to ask the others about it, but it eventually it grows too strong for him, and he concedes to it. “So… Rose has been acting pretty weird lately.”

There’s a long, pregnant pause.

“Has she?” says Conner, too curiously for it to be genuine. “I haven’t noticed.”

His heart skips a beat for reasons he can’t entirely articulate. Conner probably notices. He tries not to think about that.

“Hmm,” he says noncomitally, his eyes flickering over to the other boy. “What about you, Bart? Have you noticed anything?”

There’s an even longer pause.

“Nope,” Bart says slowly “Can’t say I have.”

~~

“She’s just stressed,” Rose tells him later, as they both sit on the roof looking at the stars. It had been her and Eddie’s favorite spot once, he knows, but Eddie never comes out of his room anymore. “Fighting me helps her, lets her gauge how hard she can go on normal opponents now that she’s not holding back as much anymore. She’s been doing a pretty good job of pulling her punches back so far.”

He’d be more inclined to believe her if it wasn’t for the brand-new cast over her wrist, the sheer white of it at a stark contrast to the thin strings of Rose’s blue bikini. “If you say so .”

“I do,” she says plainly, taking a long puff from her cigarette with her free hand. When she exhales, she blows out the smoke in a perfect ring. She watches it rise high up in the air for a moment, before wrestling a small stone free from the railing and handing it to him. “Throw it.”

“Huh?” Jaime says intelligently.

“Throw it. Through the ring. It should be pretty easy for you…” She grins. “…unless it’s actually the suit that does all the aiming for you.”

Jaime’s feels his lip curl into a smile. “What do I get if I do get it through?” he asks, cocking his arm back.

“You’ll see. Throw it.”

He does. It gets through. His smile widens.

“What’s my prize?” he asks, turning to Rose… before his smile fades at the look of dread on her face. “Rose?”

“I thought… I thought it was just a dream,” she murmurs, more to herself than to Jaime. “That…”

“Thought what was just a dream?” Jaime asks, frowning.

Rose turns her head to look at him. There’s something in her eyes he can’t quite place. She doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but just when Jaime opens his mouth to speak again, she says, “Don’t do it tomorrow.”

“Do what?”

“You know what. Don’t do it tomorrow,” she says, before standing up and walking away without another word.

Jaime blinks. “Rose?”

She does not look back, but Jaime swears he can hear her mutter, “Trust me.”

~~

“Ok, let’s see what you’ve been hiding,” Jaime says, cracking his fingers and getting to work on cracking Tim’s encryption.

I took a hacking class in high school. How hard could it be?

Very hard, as it turns out. Jaime’s on the verge of giving up when he finds a note taped to the bottom of the desk that reads, “New password is SpoilerAlert. Don’t forget this time. You owe at least that to her, you utter failure.”

It’s written in Tim’s hand. Jaime decides not to think too hard about it.

“Ok, let’s see what the hell is going on here…”

As he logs into Tim’s private files, the grandfather clock set against the far wall of Tim’s office chimes with the coming of the hour.

Tick

“—this is mercy!”

He shuts his eyes when Eddie starts screaming. Goddamn it. They should’ve realized…

Tock

“You made me do it. You made me.”

Tick

There’s a horrible squelching noise as the thief’s head yields beneath the force of Cassie’s fist, spraying pink matter and bits of flesh everywhere. The video wobbles as the person holding the phone steps back in shock, an action mirrored by everyone in the small crowd of criminals… until the screams begin.

“No, wait!” Cassie yells as everyone in the crowd save for the mysterious recorder starts to run, holding her hands out in a gesture of peace—which might be more effective if the dead thief’s brains weren’t still dripping from them. “I didn’t mean to! I…” she trails off, looking down at her hands like she’s never seen them before, like they belong to someone else. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to.”

Tock

The clock chimes again by the time Jaime stops vomiting.

Tick

“If you’re seeing this, it means I’m leaving,” M’gann says into the security camera. “Please, Tim, show this tape to the others. I don’t want… I can’t say goodbye in person after what I just saw in your mind, but…”

Tock

“Ravager, huh?” The thing that wasn’t Eddie asked, grinning at the picture on his phone, which is pincered carefully between two massive red fingers. “Mmmh, I’d like to ravage her. I think she’d make a wonderfully feisty bride, wouldn’t you agree?”

“What, uh, makes you think that?” asks Tim, who is clearly uncomfortable with the situation… though not uncomfortable enough to leave it, clearly.

“Call it a feeling,” Not-Eddie says, his grin widening. “I have several, you know. I know these things.”

“Several…?”

“Brides,” the demon clarifies, his eyes literally blazing with mirth. “All of them beautiful and very happy with their place in life, I’ll have it said. I’m nothing if not a sensitive and attentive husband.”

“Right…”

“How much for the Ravager?” he asks, leaning forward and placing his palms on the desk, unaware or uncaring how his fiery hands singe the wood black underneath them. “You mortals do still like gold, don’t you?”

“Uh…”

“Or perhaps… it is power you seek?” Not-Eddie presses, his grin widening. “I can see your desires… you think yourself intelligent, little boy, but I can give you a mind that would dwarf all others. Would you like that?”

Jaime wishes he couldn’t tell Tim was tempted.

“I… no,” he says finally, swallowing thickly, as if mourning the opportunity he’s just rejected.

“No?” The demon raises an eyebrow, then shrugs. “Hmm… perhaps I misjudged you. It happens sometimes, it must be said. Very well, I could also offer you…”

“No, I meant…” he trails off, and for a moment Jaime thinks it’s because he’s struggling to think of a way to explain the concept of women having rights to a demon before Tim’s next words smash that optimistic hope to bits. “I meant, she’s really not mine to sell in the first place. She’s Cassie’s thing, not mine.”

Jaime’s breath stutters in disbelief. What the actual…?

“Oh?”

“Yeah, and even if she knew about your, uh, transformation, she’d never give Rose up after all the trouble she went to keep her around, even though it’s obviously the pragmatic thing to do. Sorry.”

“I see.”

But, um,” Tim starts, licking his lips. “That doesn’t mean I couldn’t get you… other things, if you made it worth my while… and didn’t tell Cassie.”

The demon looks intrigued. “Go on.”

Tim leans forward, a greedy glint coming over his eyes. “Well, you demons like making deals with desperate people, right?”

“You could say that.”

Tim’s lips slowly curl into a smile, and something about it makes Jaime’s mouth go dry. “How would you like to get your hands on a few supervillains?”

Tick

“Oh, G-God, Tim, I-I actually d-did it,” Cassie sobs into Tim’s shoulder, nearly incoherent with regret. “I-I did it, and… she… she didn’t even wake up! She… she trusted me, subconsciously, and I… I…”

“Hey, hey, don’t do that,” Tim says softly, rubbing soothing circles into Cassie’s back. “You had to. She left you no other choice.”

“That’s b-bullshit, and you know it!” Cassie yells, pushing away from Tim and wiping furiously at her eyes. “Great Hera, what have I done? I… I… I’m worse than Slade.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, even you don’t believe that.”

“And why not?” Cassie snaps, furiously rounding on Tim, tears running down her cheeks. “At least Slade had the decency to look her in the eyes when he did it! I snuck up on her while she was sleeping! Like some… some coward!”

Tim sighs. “Look, we both know we couldn’t just let someone with as much intel on us as Rose just walk out of here weeks before the operation… and if it makes you feel better, I condensed the formula so that you would only have to do it once instead of every weeks, like Slade.”

Cassie sniffs, wiping away a tear in the corner of her eye with her finger. “I… I need to tell her.”

Tim’s face visibly twitches in a way that makes Jaime’s heart fearfully skip a beat. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not,” she says fiercely, blinking to clear the moisture in her eyes. “This is wrong, Tim. What I did was… horrible. I knew how scared she was of being controlled like that again… and I still did it!” She wipes at her eyes and turns towards the door, and for a moment it seems everything is gonna work out okay. “I can’t stand it a moment longer. I have to tell her.”

His eyes flicker to the date of the recording. It’s nearly a month old.

Rose had still been acting weird less than a day ago.

Dammit, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut. Goddamn all you people, you’ve all gone insane.

He suddenly wants nothing more than to be at home with his sister, and his parents, in that place he grew up in, where everyone speaks Spanish and there are barbecues every Sunday and things are simply and easy and people he used to care about don’t turn out to secretly be massive douchebags, and—

“Do what you want,” he hears Tim say, seemingly uncaring. “I’m just wondering if you’ve thought the consequences through.”

Don’t stop, he feels himself thinking, even though he knows full well she is going to stop. Don’t listen to him. Keep going. Tell Rose. Make it make sense again.

“What do you mean?” Cassie’s voice asks hesitantly, and he doesn’t need to open his eyes again to know that she’s stopped. He still does it anyway.

“I mean, what do you think is gonna happen when you tell her you drugged her?” Tim asks sardonically, chuckling a little when Cassie’s expression tightens. “See, even you know I’m right. Remind me, how many times has she tried to kill Slade by now…?”

“I…”

“Four? Five?” He grins. “And like you said, at least Slade had the decency to look her in the eye when he did it. You… not so much.”

“I… what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, if you tell Rose what you did, you lose her forever,” Tim says, a bit more gently. “I mean, she was gearing up to leave even before you drugged her. She’s not ever going to forgive you if you tell her. You know that, right?”

“That… that doesn’t matter,” Cassie says, too firmly, like she’s trying to convince not only Tim but herself too. “What I did to her was wrong. I have to make up for it.”

Tim looks at her, then sighs, standing up and walking towards the medical cabinet in the back of the lab. “Okay.”

“I… really?”

“Yeah,” Tim says, pulling open one of the drawers and pulling out a long, thin syringe filled with an unfamiliar green liquid. “This is the antidote. You give this to Rose, she’ll be back to normal within the hour.”

He turns around and holds it out for Cassie to grab. “Take it.”

Do it. Come on. Please. It’s right there. You can fix everything if you just take it. It’s right there.

Cassie hesitates. “The serum… it’s not really mind control, is it?”

Jaime can Tim’s lips quirk up slightly. He’s just won, he realizes. “Nope. It just enhances feelings that are already there.”

By which he means it sends all of her emotions into overdrive and makes her extremely unstable. Goddamn it. How are you falling for this? You’re Wonder Girl. Use your freaking brain.

“Maybe… maybe it would be best to wait a bit before giving her the antidote,” Cassie says slowly, looking like she herself doesn’t believe what is saying. “Just to make sure the whole… thing is not as raw as it would be right now. Besides… since it’s a new version, it could have side effects we don’t know about, right? Maybe it would be best to stand back and study her case for a bit to make sure we don’t accidentally put her in distress by ‘curing’ her.”

Tim’s lips curl into an open smile. “I knew you’d come around.”

Tock

Operation Titanomachy.

It’s a strange name for a file.

Jaime clicks on it, more by curiosity than anything else, and his eyes widen at what he sees inside. There are plans for a full takeover of the government, graphs showcasing “military infiltration levels”, monthly political pie charts that are steady turning more and more extremist with every month, blueprints for state-run super-weapons, everything and anything an up-and-coming supervillain would need to—

An alarm suddenly blares in his head, and he turns, his suit materializing around him as the smoke pellets roll along the floor and hiss open, expelling what Khaji labels a deadly neurotoxin into the air. It’s about as dangerous to his suit’s air filtration system as a pebble and about as useful, though, so Jaime simply switches his vision settings to thermal and blasts Tim straight in the chest with his hand cannon. He flies back, out of the cloud of smoke and into the far wall, which he collapses against with a pained moan. Jaime marches right over to him and grabs him by the cape before he can recover, dragging him along the floor as he marches straight to the conference room.

One way or another, this insanity ends now.

“Jaime Reyes, this course is I’ll-advised,” the Scarab warns him, but he doesn’t care anymore. Six months. Six months of sitting there like a lamp, watching his friends turn into murders, and for what? For them to plot to take over the government? For Tim to sell incarcerated supervillains to a demon—and not just any demon, but the one that had killed Eddie? For Cassie to drug Rose the exact same way her father drugged her? No. He’s not stopping to consider a better option. He’d already let this go too far.

“J-Jaime,” Tim gasps, but it isn’t Jaime he’s speaking to anymore, it’s Blue Beetle. He has just enough time to squawk out a “w-wait!” before he founds himself picked up and lobbed through the door, which breaks under his weight and deposits him on the floor amidst a pile of broken wood.

“Nobody moves!” Blue Beetle snarls, his arm cannon raised and pointed at the room’s inhabitants, who look up in shock at his entrance. “I’ve had just about enough of this!”

The conference room is a little different from how it was the last time he was in here. The table is new, a holographic map of the world with several places outlined in red. At the back, Wonder Girl’s chair, recognizable by the ‘W’ symbol on the back of it, has been placed on a slight dais, all the better to look out over the contents of the map… and, perhaps unintentionally, down on the people around it.

Looks like they’ve already gotten started on all the fascist imagery. Figures.

Not that there were all that many people around the table—for whatever reason, only Wonder Girl, Superboy, and now Red Robin were in the room with him, with Rose obviously absent and Impulse nowhere to be found. As for Superboy and Wonder Girl, they were both seated some distance apart, but jumped to their feet at his entrance.

“Jaime, wh—” Wonder Girl cries, before she is cut off by an energy blast hitting the wall an inch from her ear. “Hey!”

“I know. I know what you’re plotting,” he reveals, taking a step forward, his helmet retracting rom his head so he can look her in the eyes. “And I know what you did.”

Wonder Girl visibly swallows. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Liar,” he accuses, lips twisting into a scowl. “How does it feel knowing you betrayed everything you stood for? That you betrayed the one person who’s never going to forgive you for it?”

Wonder Girl looks stricken for a moment, before her eyes flicker to his cannon hand.

“Jaime, think about this,” she warns, in a tone usually reserved for stupid, misbehaving children. “We’re your friends. We don’t wanna…”

“Lady, I don’t know who the hell you people are anymore,” Blue Beetle interrupts, priming his cannon, “but you’re sure as hell not my friends.”

Wonder Girl’s eyes flicker again, this time to something behind him, and by the time Blue Beetle thinks to turn two fiery-hot hands have clamped tightly onto his face from behind. A sizzling noise fills his ears, and it takes him a moment to register its his own flesh that’s burning. He screams, feeling his face boil beneath his assailant’s fingertips, and turns, shoving away the thing that wasn’t Eddie and then sending him crashing back with an energy blast. The massive demon—for, it seems, Red Devil had been metamorphosing somehow in his room and has now emerged as a muscular, eight feet tall version of himself—lets out a grunt and lies still as its back hits the wall, but Blue Beetle doesn’t let his guard down; he turns and transforms his left hand into a blade just in time to block Wonder Girl’s descending fist. Sparks fly as the alien metal clashes against her steel bracelet, but Blue Beetle doesn’t lean into the lock, knowing Wonder Girl is much stronger than he is, instead choosing to send a kick quick to her stomach to get some distance in between them and turn to face his other opponent—not fast enough, though. Superboy tackles him around the waist and flies them both into the wall, prompting a pained gasp from Blue Beetle as all the air is forced out of his ribs, and he doesn’t stop there: hits start raining down on his head, one after the other, so hard his helmet starts cracking, unable to protect his head from the powerful blows until… now, Khaji! His chest opens up, expelling a highly concentrated beam of energy that sends Superboy crashing into and through the ceiling, going up and up and up at an angle until he is blasted well out of the Tower. There’s no time to catch his breath, however, as Wonder Girl’s lasso suddenly snaps taut around his wrist and pulls him, first into the wall, then, as he crashes down, into a punch that completely shatters his helmet and leaves him seeing stars on the ground.

Ouch. He needs to—

He rolls back, jumping to his feet and into the air as bomb pellets explode on the ground beneath him, summoning his wings and manifesting an energy shield to protect himself from the blast. The force of it crashes against his shield, and he can feel the searing heat ford around him like a stone in a river, but he is unharmed, and a moment later he makes Red Robin pay for getting up by strafing him with his energy cannon. He dodges the first, the second, but not the third blast, and Blue Beetle lands on the ground to finish him off… only to find his cannon hand pulled away by Wonder’s Girl lasso at the last moment, directing his blast into the floor instead. He turns and yanks on the lariat with his free hand, aiming to pull her off her feet in a move he once saw Rose use in one of her and Wonder Girl’s sparring matches, but he isn’t Rose, and this isn’t sparring; Wonder Girl not only keeps her feet, but pulls back, and the short tug of war ends the only way it could—with Blue Beetle speeding through the air straight into Wonder Girl’s grip. She wastes no time raising him high into the air before turning and smashing him down into the fancy new holographic conference table, which breaks under his weight, leaving him dazed in a pile of broken glass.

Okay, might have beaten bitten off a bit more than I could chew here, he thinks, shaking off his discombobulation and dodging just in time for Wonder Girl’s fist to leave a crater where his head had been a moment prior.

Looks like Rose was right, she really is pulling her punches. Not.

Cassie doesn’t let up, her fists surging towards him with the speed and accuracy of homing missiles, and he—he—

He feels his neck be seized from behind, and knows in that moment it’s about to be snapped.

No, that can’t be, he thinks inanely in his last moments of life, reaching up to grab futilely at the arm around his neck. Rose said don’t do it tomorrow, and I didn’t, unless… he focuses his gaze on the window. There is light coming from underneath the curtains.

It’s morning.

“Oh, he breathes, and he hears the crunch long before he feels it.

~~

There is a very long silence as Eddie stands over Jaime, panting.

“Eddie,” Cassie breathes, feeling a pit open in her stomach. “Eddie, what did you do?”

Eddie looks up… and slowly smiles.

“Doomed boy,” the wind whispers in their ears as it fled them, like the crowd had fled Cassie after what she did. “Doomed, doomed, doomed.”

[marblecakecait]

bart i don’t want to alarm you but there may be a bogeyman or bogeymen in the house

[deadlyroyalty]

Pancake Conversations | 16+ |

Relationship(s): Lisa Simpson/Nelson Muntz; Homer Simpson/Marge Simpson

Character(s): Lisa Simpson; Nelson Muntz; Homer Simpson; Marge Simpson; Bart Simpson; Milhouse Van Houten (Mentioned)

Word Count: 2809

Summary: “Take a breath, Lis.” Nelson whispers. “I know you’re feeling a lot of things right now but take a deep breath.” He was right and maybe when she wasn’t so hormonal, she would acknowledge and be grateful that he didn’t explicitly note that she was hormonal.

CW: Fluff; Fluff & Angst; Sexual Innuendos; Mild Sexual Content; Angst; Angst with a Happy Ending; Lovey-Dovey; Awkward Conversations; Mild Nudity; Drug Use; Recreational Drug Use

A/N: Sequel to previous one-shot (Period Sex) but can be read as standalone. This is more cheesy and written more like an episode of the Simpsons, not like my previous writing. I wanted to experiment.

Read on AO3 here.

—��———

Lisa awoke to the soft snores coming from her boyfriend and his breath blowing against the hair behind her ear. She let out a small groan and rolled over in his arms, attempting to untangle their legs. She buries herself into Nelson’s warm, nude chest, humming happily. His hands only hold her tighter, ensuring that she won’t be leaving his arms anytime soon, something she knows she must if she is going to have any chance at bracing her parents for the shock that is her boyfriend coming downstairs.

She wiggles out of his grip, whining at the loss of warmth as she rolls off her bed, landing on her knees. Standing, she looks over to see Nelson reaching for her in the spot she’d vacated. “Lis.” His morning voice made her feel things she shouldn’t be feeling this early in the morning. “Come back to me.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she starts stroking his cheek. “I have to tell my parents that you're here, they aren’t…” She clicks her tongue. “They aren’t exactly aware that you came over.” He groans again and murmurs out something about how they won’t care. She leans over and kisses his cheek. “I’ll get you some coffee.”

She quickly takes the pills that were set out on her nightstand, including the Plan-B Nelson had set out for her the night prior. “I’ll be quick.” He’s already snoring once more.

As she exits her room, she attempts to open and close her door so as not to wake the sleeping giant in her bed. She groggily made her way downstairs and the second she entered the kitchen she was met with a tense smile from her mother, who was flipping pancakes over the stove. “Hi sweetie. How you doing?”

Lisa yets out a yawn and runs a hand through her tangled hair. “Good.” She pulls out a chair at the table. “How was the murder mystery party?”

Marge sighed as she flipped a pancake onto the growing stack next to her. “Y’know the usual, it started off well but by the end of it, your father was drunk off his rocker and embarrassed me beyond belief.”

Lisa frowned. “I’m sorry mom.”

The smile her mom put on next was clearly fake. “Well, it’s alright. I’m sure I can live without couple friends. But enough about that, how was your evening?”

Lisa let out an awkward chuckle. “Well, the thing about that is-” Screaming started to be heard from upstairs causing both women to jump up in alarm.

Marge was the first out of the kitchen, with Lisa immediately behind her. They’re both starting to panic, wondering what in the world could’ve caused their respective partners to start screaming. Neither even beginning to think it might have been each other.

When they both reached the top of the stairs they saw the reason for the commotion. Nelson and Homer were standing in the hallway, both in only their undergarments. Lisa’s boyfriend looked down right embarrassed while her dad looked like he wanted to strangle him. “Lisa!” He shouted at her. “Do you want to tell me why I found him leaving your room?”

“Homie…” Marge started but was quickly cut off by Homer raising a hand.

“No, no, no, Marge. Don’t defend her.” He pointed an accusatory finger at his daughter. “I expected this behavior from the boy but not from you.” He started to sob dramatically. “You were supposed to be our family's saving grace.”

“Dad.” Lisa breathed. “It’s just Nelson.” She hooked her arm through Nelson’s and leaned into him. “You know I’m responsible.” She rolled her eyes. “More responsible than Bart at the very least.”

“But what about-” Homer started shouting only to be quickly cut off.

“Before you start, you never had any rules that he couldn’t be here.” Her voice was clipped and straight to the point.

He sputters and makes several attempts to defend himself or come up with some cause of his anguish, only to find he was lacking one. “Fine.” He crossed his arms and turned his head snootily. “But you better be using protection.” Nelson started choking on air.

“Dad!”

“Homie!”

Marge and Lisa yell in tandem, both completely mortified by his statement.

Lisa is rubbing circles on her boyfriend's back as he catches his breath. “I promise we are, sir.” Nelson wheezes out, his hands on his knees. He rarely ever called Homer ‘sir’ and whenever he did, everyone knew that he was being sincere.

“Good. Now Marge, I believe that there is bacon in the kitchen with my name on it.” Homer shoves past both his wife and daughter to go downstairs.

“Homer, put on a pair of pants!” Marge’s voice was very flat as she called after him.

“No.” Homer’s tone sounded more like a defiant teenager as he entered the kitchen. She sighed and pinched her nose, murmuring family-friendly obscenities before following him to finish prepping that morning's breakfast.

As Nelson pushes himself upright, Lisa wraps her arms around his waist and collapses into his chest, taking in a deep inhale of his scent. “I’m sorry about that.”

His arms reciprocate her actions, hands gripping her hips tightly to get her attention. “It’s alright Lis, we both know I’ve had weirder conversations with your dad.” She gives a weak laugh.

She brings her arms up and pushes off his chest. “I know, I know. I just thought I’d have more time to explain.” Nelson just shrugs and rolls his eyes. “I think I have some of your pajama pants in one of my drawers, put those on before you come down.” She pleads as she, albeit reluctantly, pulls herself from his arms for the second time that morning.

“What?” His grin is cocky. “Don’t want me to be like your dad and come down in only these.” He gestured to his gray boxers and wiggled his eyebrows at her. “I thought you enjoyed seeing me like this, Lis.”

She groans. “Nelson!” Her tone is exacerbated.

He laughs but nods in acknowledgement. “You know I’m kidding, Lis.” He leans down and kisses her forehead, his stubble rough on her skin.

“I’ll see you downstairs.” She shoots him a weak smile as she starts down the stairway once again and he walks back into her room, presumably to turn all her drawers upside down to find his pants.

Once Lisa is back in the kitchen, she is met with the anguished face of her father and the annoyed look of her mother. “Homie, it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal, Marge!” He clutches his chest in shock. “How can you say that!?”

Marge has her hands on her hips. “We did that exact same thing when we were their age.” Both have failed to notice the reappearance of Lisa. “You should’ve seen them last night. For once she didn’t look like an anxiety riddled, stressed out mess!” She takes a breath. “She looked happy, Homer. Genuinely happy.”

Lisa clears her throat, drawing the attention of both adults back to her. “As nice as it is to hear you coming to my defense, I don’t know if I should be more freaked out over the fact that you were watching us sleep last night.”

Her mom dawns a sheepish look. “Sorry sweetie, but you two were just so adorable.”

Lisa flushes in self-consciousness. “Mom!” Her tone is high pitched, almost a squeal.

“I know, I know.” Marge holds her hands up in self defense. “I won’t do it again, now sit, sit. I’ll get out the coffee.” She leans down, placing the bowl of sugar cubes and Lisa’s oatmilk on the table before turning back around to grab the coffee pot.

As Lisa takes a seat, the backdoor opens and Bart waltzes in, back from his night out with Milhouse, and looking worse for wear. “There’s my special little guy. How was your night?”

Bart collapses in the chair closest to where he entered. “Fine.” He crossed his arms and yawned.

“Look who's decided to make an appearance.” Lisa snarked.

Bart rolled his eyes and grabbed a piece of bacon, ripping into it with his teeth. He ignores his sister and instead decides to make a backhanded comment towards their father. “How hungover are you, fatso?”

Homer looks up at his son from the paper and glares. “Bart, don’t call me that.” He says through gritted teeth.

Bart cackles, spewing pieces of bacon from his mouth. “Bart, wait till you're done chewing.” Marge chastises as she wipes a crumb of bacon off her arm in disgust. Lisa eyed him with a look of repugnance as she sipped her coffee but her ears perked up when she heard the heavy steps of her partner on the stairs.

Nelson walks in wearing his red and black, plaid, pajama pants and a wife beater. The second he and Bart make eye contact the room tenses. “What is he doing here?” Bart’s tone is laced with as much venom as he can muster.

Nelson has a smug smirk on his face as he plops into the chair next to Lisa and pulls her into his lap with ease. “I’m her boyfriend, dingus. I’m allowed to be here, ain’t that right, Lis?” He coos and her cheeks start to heat up.

Lisa struggles to start her sentence. “Yeah, Bart. He can be here.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, his warm hands resting right where her cramps are, where she needed them to be. “He helped me out a lot last night.”

Bart gags. “Don’t ever talk to me about your sex life, ever!” He exclaims.

“Not like that you jerk!” Lisa shouts at him. “Since you ate all the ice cream, Nelson got me some chocolate.” She says matter of factly. “And he wouldn’t have needed to, had you just listened to me and not eaten it!” Her heart was beating quickly and she felt her face heat up in anguish.

“Take a breath, Lis.” Nelson whispers. “I know you’re feeling a lot of things right now but take a deep breath.” He was right and maybe when she wasn’t so hormonal, she would acknowledge and be grateful that he didn’t explicitly note that she was hormonal. She took his advice, taking a deep inhale, letting him feel her abdomen expand underneath his hands with every inhale.

She mutters a ‘thank you’, and in response he kisses behind her ear. She’s all flustered and when she finally does speak to the room she’s calm and collected, unlike the her from thirty seconds ago. “Bart, if you hadn’t eaten all the ice cream and taken all the snacks out of the cupboard for your smoking session with Milhouse, then he wouldn’t be here right now.” Her tone is pointed and direct.

Bart rolls his eyes once more and makes a noise of annoyance, leaning back with one arm resting on the back of his chair. He waves his hand towards Homer. “Homer, how are you cool with this?”

Homer mutters angrily, flipping the newspaper up to cover his face. “Ask your mother.”

Bart looks towards Marge who places the stack of pancakes on the table. “Mom?”

“Lisa’s responsible, we trust her.” She shrugged.

Bart makes a noise of disbelief. “What!? But-but-” He’s stuck in a never ending loop of ‘but’, getting a giggle out of Lisa at her brother's loss for words. “But you never trusted me with having someone in the house!”

“And it’s a good thing we didn’t.” Marge points an accusatory finger. “You’ve had three pregnancy scares this year alone, young man.” Bart huffs and walks out of the room, talking about how unfair it was under his breath.

Lisa feels Nelson pat her hips before he lifts her to standing with ease. “I gotta get to the shop, baby. Gotta make some calls as your brother is clearly not coming in today.” Just because they worked together, doesn’t mean Bart liked Nelson.

She whimpers. “Do you have to?”

“I’m the owner, Lis. If I’m not there, then it doesn’t function.” He walks into the dining room with her following close behind.

“Yeah but that should mean you can take days off whenever you want.” Her tone is that of a disgruntled child as she goes up the stairs behind him.

“Lis, baby, I can’t take a day off every time you want me to.” When he says that her lip starts to quiver. It doesn’t matter if she knows deep down he’s right, in her heightened emotional state she's much more sensitive and knowing that he couldn’t be there for her made her want to sob. He didn’t notice the tears welling up in her eyes until he sat on her bed to pull on his shoes. He looks up at her and immediately regrets what he said. “No, no, no, Lis. That’s not what I meant.” He reaches out for her. “Come here, baby.”

She moves to sit on his lap and he holds her hips. “Lisa, if you really needed me to, I’d take the day off. I can promise you that.”

She smiles. “I know, I know. I’ll just miss you.” She wipes the tears starting to spill from her eyes. Lisa tries to focus on his calloused thumb currently rubbing circles on her hip bone.

He had a pensive look on his face for a moment before speaking. “I’ll take a day off in two weeks, okay? I’ll spend the whole day with you, fuck you senseless so you’ll be able to feel me in you for days after. You won't be missing me for a really long time.” His toothy grin is contagious and the laugh she lets out warms his heart through and through.

Her mood instantly brightens and he slides her off his lap and onto her bed. He leans down and starts to tie his laces as she watches him intently. Lisa’s eyes were moving over every feature on his face, the little sun spots and his notched nose, and his eyes; his deep, chocolatey, brown eyes.

Lisa lays back as he, unbeknownst to himself, gives her a show. Nelson gets dressed in front of her, using the clothes he kept there to get ready for work. As he was buttoning up his green flannel shirt, he turned and saw her staring. “You gonna take a picture?” He raises a brow.

“I would but I already have enough of you changing.” Her tone was light hearted but they both knew what lay in her nightstand drawer.

She follows her boyfriend downstairs, wanting to say one last good-bye before he is on his way. She helps him slip on his vest, in a way that parallels the way her mother does it for her father. “Thank you, baby.” She smiles up at him.

His black pick-up is parked outfront, the car covered in a light layer of condensation. The morning air is cold around her and she wishes she was wearing more than her boyfriend’s shirt, which was ten times too big for her, and panties. She trailed behind him to the curb. “Lis, go inside, you’ll catch a cold.”

She scoffs. “No I won’t.”

“Well I don’t want anyone to see you like that.” He pulls her close by her waist.

She smiles up at him. “They’ve dealt with my dad sleeping naked on the roof for years, they can deal with a little PDA.” She shrugs.

“Lis-” She presses her lips to his, promptly cutting him off. He makes a small noise of shock before leaning into it. She leans against his chest and deepens the kiss, one hand on his pectorals and the other cupping his jaw, loving the rough feel of his scruff on her skin. When she pulls away they rest their forehead against one anothers. “I’ll be back after work, Lis.” He whispers against her lips.

“Promise?” She looks up at him with big, pretty eyes.

“Of course, sweetheart. I love you.” He kisses her palm and pulls away with one last peck on her lips. “Now I gotta get to work.”

“I love you, too.” He gives her a large grin as he walks around the front of his truck to get in. Lisa doesn’t want him to leave, especially since she can feel the intense stare of her family from the window behind her. He gives her one last wave as he pulls away from the curb. Lisa waves back, blowing him a kiss. She can watch Nelson’s smile through his right side mirror. She watches as he turns the corner at the end of Evergreen Terrace. She wraps her arms tightly around herself, trying to hug herself how he does but it will never be the same. She yearned to be in his arms.

[ramennoodlezzzao3]

nobody asked me to answer but I’m answering anyways 🤪

My Family, Covid, and Music

It’s horrible 💀

The Outsiders, IT, Titanic

If me and my parents get into a minor disagreement, my dad will point to the sky and say “Whose roof?” It may not be funny to yall without context, but it’s fricking hilarious in my family.

tbh, I didn’t know that tumblr was like this, I just read about it on an outsiders modern au fic and wanted to see what it was about

the best part is getting to make people happy and laughing with people all around the world in my comment section abt random stuff. The worst part isn’t the trolls, I can handle a good hate comment and can make an even better comeback, but I think its people stealing your content (I’m a TikTok and YouTube editor with a semi-large following, so people stealing my comets isn’t rare, it’s just hard to find the video bc they normally block you afterward)

Fire alarms and ovens. Idk why but I have always been afraid of both

No, not that I remember at least

We were at the beach and my husky ran out into the woods because he saw a dear. Both my parents and my sisters were looking for him, but my sisters didn’t have shoes on, so they came back with thorns and sticks in their feet (we found the dog btw)

Kinda? I have an emotional breakdown every other month and cry a few times in between but a movie or song can’t get tears falling. Unless a dog dies, if I dog dies, babes, I’m on the ground sobbing.

In a movie or book, just any romantic interaction that lasts a certain amount of time. Ten-fifteen minuets for a movie and maybe ten-fifteen pages in a book, depending how long each one is.

if people try to put you down, whether it’s a hate comment for an actual comment, bite back. Don’t be afraid. Biting back makes them back down. And if you are too scared to bite back, make fun of yourself with them! It shows confidence and also shows that you can take insults without being affected. It shows a lot about you.

Listening to music and writing my book! (It’s based off one of my dreams)

I have always wanted to move to Tokyo. I’m still a teenager, but when I get to collage, I want to apply for the animation school in Tokyo. I’m just scared that would be a very bold move.

It’s not really a feeling, but I smell cinnamon and bread baking, ik it’s weird but still.

how annoying I am.

music, books, writing

ghosts maybe, aliens no

I like laying in my bed while listening to music with sunlight pouring in. I like it better when it storms tho, it gives my room a really pretty and cold vibe, perfect for the neighborhood music!

I get to sleep lol

Idk, I don’t think I’m like the biggest spiritual person out there. I wouldn’t bring up anything spiritual in a conversation bc I don’t particularly find it interesting. But if someone else starts a conversation I would talk about it

my mom. She’s funny, very dirty minded, and has a strait-to-the-point-no-nonsense type attitude

Andrew Tate. Self explanatory.

Building a community on YouTube and TikTok where everyone feels comfortable enough to share their thoughts and feelings

winter! Mostly because it’s Christmas time in the winter and I LOVE the Christmas vibe

Blue, Green, Black and White. I’ve always liked blue and green, but I took a liking to black and white because me and my sister used to share a room and everything she owned was either pink, black, or white

My older brother calls me Honey, my oldest sister calls me Sugarboo, my second oldest sister calls me chicken (weird without context 💀), and my other two older sisters just call me by my name

Snowglobes! I started when me and my family moved across the country. We went to 11 states and so I have 11 snowglobes rn. My oldest sister bring me back one every single time she goes to visit her boyfriend.

listen to music or watch funny YouTubers like Joe Bart and the sturniolo triplets

When people comment on my videos. I love it when people enjoy my content!

a bit of both

12 💀

Drawing, Writing, editing, painting

I HATE STEREOTYPING PEOPEL! GOD ITS SO ANNOYING WHEN PEOPLE DO THAT IT MAKES ME WANT TO SCREAM

Very easily, I probably need to stop doing that. But I can always tell when something’s off about a person

People think I’m an open book but literally nobody knows anything about me, not even my family

I downloaded discord without asking my parents once, deleted it after a while though (The life of a kid with strict ass parents 😍)

End of beginning or Sex, Drugs, Etc

Joe Bartalozzi and Nick Sturniolo. They just remind me of myself

I chew the skin in front of my nails. I dig my nails into my arm when I feel like I’m being annoying.

that’s it 😍

questions I think would be fun to be asked

what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

show us a picture of your handwriting?

3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

what made you start your blog?

what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?

what scares you the most and why?

any reacquiring dreams?

tell a story about your childhood

would you say you’re an emotional person?

what do you consider to be romance?

what’s some good advice you want to share?

what are you doing right now?

what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

what do you think of when you hear the word “home”?

if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

name 3 things that make you happy

do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?

favourite thing about the day?

favourite things about the night?

are you a spiritual person?

say 3 things about someone you love

say 3 things about someone you hate

what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

fave season and why?

fave colour and why?

any nicknames?

do you collect anything?

what do you do when you’re sad?

what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?

are you messy or organised?

how many tabs do you have open right now?

any hobbies?

any pet peeves?

do you trust easily?

are you an open book or do you have walls up?

share a secret

fave song at the moment?

youtuber you’ve been obsessed with and why?

any bad habits?

(this post was stolen from @teenage-mutant-ninja-freak, since it couldn't be reblogged anymore)

[bluejaysandblackbats]

The Juice Box Jubilee

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, YJ98, Titans

Summary: A mysterious girl walks through heroes' nightmares, and they band together to figure out why.

Chapters: 3/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon, Cassandra Sandsmark, Bart Allen, Tim Drake, Conner Kent, Cissie King-Jones, Grant Emerson, Roy Harper

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tags: Dreams and Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergent AU, First Person POV, Mystery Character(s), Confession(s), Found Family, Healing

Chapter Three: safe grownup (Grant Emerson's POV)

I usually sleep fine. Except when I don’t. And tonight was the worst night of sleep I’d had in years. It was a dream I’d had before, but it always varied. I was little. Maybe I was five or six because I had a teddy bear. I always had a teddy bear in these nightmares. Tonight, I carried my bear through the fog. I rushed through the haze, not getting far on my little feet. I walked until I saw an adult in the distance. “Mister, I—! Mister, I need help!” I shouted. They didn’t answer, so I got close and grabbed the man’s arm. He turned toward me, and I gasped when I saw the freakishly realistic animal mask he wore. The man didn’t speak but approached me in a way that made my blood run cold. I turned to run, but my legs felt heavy. The fog lifted, and I grabbed a woman’s wrist, tugging her sleeve until she turned. She didn’t have a mask on. But stained adhesive bandages covered her face.

I recoiled, dropping her hand as I ran away again. It usually went on like that until they caught up with me. They always caught me, surrounding me with their frightening masks. After that, I’d wake up alone in my room. Tonight was different. I hit a dead end and crouched in a corner. I closed my eyes, but I could feel them closing in. A little girl stooped beside me. “Not all grown-ups are bad,” she whispered, “Don’t you remember?” I shook my head.

“I can’t get away… I can’t get—.”

She sat down and squeezed my hand. “What’s your teddy’s name?” she asked as she reached for it. I curled around my bear, hiding it from her. “Grant. What’s his name?”

She knew my name, but I didn’t know hers. I had no choice but to believe she was trustworthy. I looked at the foot of the little bear in my arms, and I smiled at the name. I didn’t have a bear like that one growing up. Especially not one named Roy. “I don’t—.”

“He kept you safe. Didn’t he?” she asked.

I nodded with tears in my eyes. “Yeah… He did,” I replied, “But I can’t go back. I left. I left the reservation. I left the team. I left him.”

“You’re scared to talk to him. Why?” she asked.

“You don’t know me—.”

“I want to,” she interrupted. Her tone was painfully sincere.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I turned away, scowling as I forcefully wiped my face. “What if he doesn’t want anything to do with me? A lot’s changed since then. I’ve done things and said things that—.”

“Most grownups who care don’t stop caring… They might get mad, but they don’t usually give up on the kids they take care of,” she replied. Before I could say anything else, my alarm woke me out of my sleep, and I sat up with my face in my hands. I grabbed my phone and sat in silence… And I contemplated the meaning of the dream I had. It didn’t feel like a dream toward the end.

I couldn’t move until I found out if she was right. I called Roy’s number, hoping it was still in service. It rang twice before I got an answer. “Hello?” he answered. I didn’t know what to say. So I didn’t say anything. “I promise I don’t bite. Who is this?”

“Roy… Roy, this is Grant. I don’t know if you remember—.”

“Of course, I remember you! How are you? I haven’t—. I haven’t heard from you in a while. How’ve you been?” Roy asked. I could hear his smile over the phone. I laughed as tears streamed down my face.

I hyperventilated as I tried to speak. “Roy, I-. It’s nice to hear your voice. I felt sick to my stomach when I thought you died. I just—. I didn’t think you’d want to talk—.”

“I’ve wanted to talk to you since you left… But, you were with the JSA, so I figured you were in good hands. Hey, are you still in New York?” Roy questioned.

“Yeah… I am,” I replied.

“Sick, do you wanna get a bite to eat? A lot’s happened since you left. My treat,” Roy offered. It sounded nice. A lot better than being on my own all morning waiting for something bad to happen. I was a walking nuke. It wasn’t like I was in high demand for emergency calls. I dreaded their calls for that reason.

“Sure. I’d like that,” I smiled.

“Hey, before I let you go… Why’d you think to call me?” Roy asked.

“Um… You were in a dream I had,” I answered, “Kind of.”

“I can’t wait to hear more about it over breakfast… I’ll text you the time and place,” Roy replied before he hung up.

*

I got there late. I thought Roy would chew me out, but he was happy to see me. We went through the regular niceties, and I sat across from him at the table. “I didn’t always like you or agree with you but—. But you were the first safe adult—. You were the first person that ever made me feel completely safe,” I confessed. I had to say it before I had the chance to chicken out.

“That’s a huge compliment, Grant. I’m glad you felt safe,” Roy smiled. Sincere.

“I haven’t been safe since I left… I’ve got a clean slate and everything—. It doesn’t mean anything to me. I haven’t felt safe in so long that it’s like—. I just—. Roy, I didn’t have any say in the things that happened to me. I had to be raised by the Emersons. I had to have superpowers. I had to become a superhero. I didn’t want any of it… But I did want one thing once I realized it was too late to go back. I wanted to be part of your family,” I stammered. Roy didn’t look away. He sat silently, waiting for me to finish.

“Hey, Grant. That’s all you had to say. I already saw you as my kid. I probably shoulda told you that you were welcome to come home whenever you felt like it, but so much—. I was so focused on getting you somewhere safe to deal with your trauma that I didn’t realize it looked like I was giving you up. That’s not—. I’m sorry,” Roy apologized. I shrugged it off. “Grant, I should’ve checked in. Plain and simple. I’m sorry that I didn’t reach out when you left.”

“It’s okay… Um—. How’re you?” I asked.

“I’m alright. Lian’s alive… That’s been interesting,” Roy replied, “I’m trying to fit back into my life.”

“I get that… More than you know,” I whispered. The waitress came and took our orders for breakfast. Still, in the back of my mind, I couldn’t think of anything but the little girl. I wished she was real. I wished I could thank her.

[ferventrabbit]

Because of CERTAIN GAY PIRATES I WILL NOT NAME I could only manage to write a little chapter from the perspective of a duck in St. James’ Park for my Good Omens WIP 🦆

Bartholomew rustles his feathers, emerging from the pond to join his lady wife on the muddy banks. Callista’s eyes are closed, but she tilts her head in his direction as he approaches.

“Bart,” she says. “Good of you to join me.”

Bartholomew settles at her side, tucking his feet beneath him. “My lady, a pleasure as always.”

“You’ve heard the news, I suppose?”

“That Ursula’s ducklings finally hatched?”

“They did? Oh how delightful.”

“So not that news, I take it.” But then Callista must know everything about the ducklings, and it takes the better part of the afternoon to recount each detail to her satisfaction. By the time he’s recited each duckling’s egg-cracking pattern and height relative to a daffodil he’s forgotten that Callista had anything to tell him at all. They sit in companionable silence until Harold glides by some time later.

“Shame about the good bread, isn’t it?” Harold sighs.

Complaining is Harold’s special talent, so Bartholomew doesn’t think much of it until Callista squawks next to him, “Oh! That’s what I wanted to tell you, Bart. You know those two humans with the good bread? One of them looks a bit like a cloud and the other -”

“Like an eel. Of course I know them. The cloud brings croissants.” Bartholomew was a duckling himself when he first enjoyed that buttery delight.

“Well they’re gone, Bart! We’ve never gone this long without a sign of them.”

“Surely they’ll be back, Callista.”

“I doubt it,” says Harold, ever the pessimist. “Humans are a predictable lot. We’ve never gone more than seven days without the good bread, and by my count it’s been nine.”

Normally Bartholomew chalks Harold’s observations up to his dour disposition, but this news does alarm him. The good bread is what sets the ducks at St. James’ apart from, say, the mallards at Victoria Park. It would be quite the blow if they could no longer boast their treasured delicacy. There must be some explanation. “Those two humans are different from the others,” he explains. “I once saw the eel produce a plume of smoke from the top of his head. Maybe they’ll surprise us yet.”

“But what if they don’t, Bart? How long will we wait until the good bread becomes a distant memory? Think of poor Ursula’s ducklings!”

It’s a sad prospect, to be sure. Bartholomew does his best to calm his companions with bold assurances, but it does little to assuage his own worry. By the time Harold swims away Callista has agreed to let the matter drop for now, but Bartholomew catches her glancing wistfully back at the promenade where the humans congregate. That’s how they’d met, of course. He and Callista had gone for the same crumb that the cloud tossed down. He let her have it, of course.

“What is this world coming to, Bart,” says Callista under her breath. He doesn’t want to start the whole business up again, so he just scoots closer and lets his wing rest against hers.

“Not to worry, sweet,” he says. St. James’ park may not be the same without the good bread, it’s true, but with Callista at his side Bartholomew counts himself as the luckiest duck to have ever quacked in England.

[my-friends-in-bantry]

Cory McBrown: Year 2 - Chapter 3

16th of December, 2002

First day of the last week of school before Christmas break.

Sam, John, and I go into English class. We all got A’s on the book reports we did last week. Our new assignment is to write a five page essay on what our parents mean to us.

I don’t know what to do with that. My mum is the only parent who’s really been there for me. Edward is my stepdad. I suppose he counts, but I’ve never really thought of him that way. He’s basically just Mum’s live-in boyfriend to me. He is Jenny’s father, but he’s not mine. My own left when I was six so I don’t know what he means to me, or what he might have meant to me had he stayed. Bart has sort of been a half parental half sibling figure to me since my dad left. But in the context of this essay, I don’t know if he counts.

And what about Sam and John? Their parents died when they were three. Since then they’ve had numerous foster parents. I think the Conways are their sixth.

We discuss this at the lunch table. “I just don’t know what to do here.” John says. “I don’t have any memory of my parents.”

“Really?” I say.

John shakes his head. “I guess I could write about the Conways, but I don’t really think of them as parents. Actually, your Mum is more like a second parent. To me, at least.”

Sam nods. “I know how you feel. I remember our parents a little, but not much. I don’t know that I remember enough to fill an entire essay.”

Trudy comes to our table. “Are you guys talking about the assignment?”

John nods. “I don’t know what to write, because I don’t remember my parents at all.”

Trudy rubs John’s shoulders. “I know.”

“I don’t know what to write because I really only have parent to write about.” I say.

Trudy nods. “Aye, me too. Ever since my mum ran off with that guy to Argentina, I really only feel like I have one parent.”

Sam looks at everyone. “Wait a minute… What if we wrote about what we were just talking about?”

“How do you mean?” John asks.

“Write about how we don’t have conventional situations with our parents.”

“Is conventional anyone’s reality?” I say.

“‘70s sitcoms would have you believing that.” John says.

“I think you have a really good idea, Sam.” Trudy says. ‘I can even write about how my Da showed up for me when Mum left.”

Sam nods. “I could write about what little I remember about Mum and Da. I remember them being good parents. They were loving and attentive.”

“Maybe I write about how I feel about our different foster homes.” John posits.

I sit there, thinking. “What’ll you write about, Cory?” Sam asks me.

“I don’t know. My Mum is the parent I feel is always there for me, but Bart has sometimes held a parental role in my life.” I say.

“So write about that.” Sam suggests.

I nod, musing as we finish lunch.

That night, I attempt to write my essay, but nothing’s really coming to mind. Why did my parental life have to be so complicated? Mum and Dad divorce, Mum gets remarried. Dad isn’t even in the picture. Older brother takes on a parental role.

This is why I do not want to get involved in romantic relationships. I don’t want to create a situation so tangled and messed up for a kid. Maybe I’ll meet someone one day who’s willing to donate their sperm and that’ll be it. Or I’ll go to a sperm bank. I’ve always wanted to be a mum. Like, since I was four. I actually pretended to birth one of my stuffed animals. It was a girl. The animal was a moose. I still have it. If she were a real kid, she’d be nine. If I could have that without the messy relationship part, that’d be my ideal.

17th of December, 2002

Yikes! It’s cold today! It’s so cold that as I write this in my math class (aye, I know, I should be paying attention to the class), I’m literally wearing my coat over my uniform and my mittens on my hands. I’m literally just doodling words because math is so boring!

Whoops! I missed something important, I think. The teacher’s calling on people…

False alarm. They didn’t call on me. The bell rings, and I rush out. Math is just not my subject.

In the hall, Bart meets up with us. “Hey guys, I gotta do some errands today, so I can’t walk home with you. You guys okay walking home today?”

“What kind of errands?” I tease.

“Nothing to do with you.”

I nod sarcastically. “Uh huh.”

“It’s not. I’m shopping for Mum. Now shush. Are you guys okay to get home?”

“Aye, Bart. We should be fine.” Sam says.

“But it’s cold!” John says.

Sam gives him a funny look. “Do you think it’ll be any less cold if Bart walks with us?”

John doesn’t answer right away. “I guess not.”

Bart nods. “Alright. I’ll see you at home, then.”

Bart starts to leave. “Wait, but we have one more class,” I say.

Bart looks back. “I know, but I’m not gonna see you when you get out. I’ll see you later.”

He leaves. I look at Sam and John. They shrug. And off to Civics we go. It’s better than math, but it’s not my most favorite subject.

We get out of school, and the three of us bundle up tight.

John shivers. “I think you should’ve called your Mum to come get us.”

“She’s working.” I say. ‘She had an evening class.”

“Speaking of which, do you want to go home or to the Health Center?” Sam asks.

I think for a moment as we walk. “Well… Home has hot chocolate.”

Sam nods. “Good choice.”

“Besides, I’m not in the mood for doing yoga today. I’d rather curl up with some hot chocolate and A Very Merry Pooh Year.”

John perks up. “Ooh! I love that movie!”

“Then let’s get home and watch it.” I say.

We continue to walk through town near our neighborhood, and when we’re a few minutes from home, something- rather someone catches my eye. A boy of about 14, maybe, leaning against the outside of a liquor store across the street. He looks a little worse for wear. His clothes are dark and disheveled. He looks kind of thin, too, and his dark hair is messy and in his eyes. He’s struggling to keep warm in the baggy coat he’s wearing. I see him light up what looks like a joint, which is confirmed when I catch a whiff of it in the cold, December air. Despite all this, there’s something that makes me want to go over to him. He looks like he needs help.

“You see that boy over there?” I say to Sam and John.

Sam looks at him. “Aye, I do. I think we should keep walking.”

“I want to go see if he’s alright.” I say.

“Cory, when Brienna said to keep an open mind about relationships, I don’t think she meant a stoner on the street.” Sam argues.

“Sam, he can’t be more than 14. He’s a kid. What kid who isn’t troubled would be on the street smoking weed?”

“None, you’re right. But it’s not something you should get involved in.” Sam still tries to talk me out of it. “Right, John?”

“What if he’s packing heat?” John says.

Sam looks at him. “You’ve been watching too many cop shows.”

“Okay, maybe not that. But he could have a knife. This could be dangerous.” John reasons.

I sigh. “I think you’re both wrong. I’m going over there.”

Sam and John try to protest, but I’m already walking across the street. I approach the boy, slowly and cautiously, cause I don’t know how he’s gonna react.

He’s in the middle of a drag when I reach him. “Hi.” I say. “Are you okay?”

He glares at me, distrusting. “What do you care?” he says, taking another drag.

I decide to be kind to him anyway. “Because I care about people, especially kids. You look like you could use some help, so I want to help you.”

Now he looks confused, still frowning, but softened from a glare. I notice his maple brown eyes, which look sad, but still sparkle, especially in the Christmas lights. “Why?” he asks. “You don’t even know me.”

I smile at him. “I could. What’s your name?”

He takes another puff of the joint. I think I made him uncomfortable. “I don’t want to tell you my name.”

I try to make him feel more at ease. “I don’t have to tell you my real name if you’re more comfortable that way.” I say. I try to think of an alternative, then say: “Some people call me Brownie.”

He continues to frown in confusion. He looks like he’s thinking deeply, like I’m the first person who’s ever been kind to him. “Why?” he asks.

I shrug. “For fun.” Actually, no one’s ever called me that before. I just made it up. His eyes made me think of it. I was thinking about maple syrup, which is sweet, and so are brownies. My name is McBrown.

He stares at me for a moment. It seems like he’s looking me over. As he does, my stomach flutters. Was that-? Was that what I think it was? My heart feels funny, too, and I feel a wave of heat go up my neck. Is this what blushing feels like?

Finally, he smiles. “I like you… Brownie. You’re cute.”

I smile. He called me cute! Wait- why do I care?

He continues, ignoring his joint. “My last name is Smith, so I guess you can call me Smithy.”

I giggle, and he smiles even bigger. He has a wonderful smile, wide and genuine. There’s that flutter again. What is happening to me? Is this what Sam meant? We lock eyes for a moment, and I feel very nervous all of a sudden. My heart skips a beat and my hands get clammy in my mittens. “So you said you wanted to help me? How?” he asks.

I forgot I had said that. It’s like I looked at his eyes and my brain short-circuited. I take a deep breath. “I want to give you love, and care.”

Uh oh. That made him frown. I may have gone too far. “What does that mean?”

Maybe he just doesn’t know what it’s like to be cared for. I put my hand on his shoulder, and my heart flutters. He looks at my hand. He looks scared. “Emotional love. Like, friendship. I’m saying I want to be your friend.” I realize I sort of flubbed what I probably should’ve said. But I’m suddenly very nervous.

He looks at my hand for a moment but then brushes it away. “What makes you think I need that?” he still looks scared.

I try to keep smiling, even though I feel like things are getting tense. “Well, I’m very good at sensing people’s energy. You have a very sweet, but pained energy.”

His shoulders tighten. “Okay, first of all, I don’t believe in that energy crap. And secondly, you’re treading on ground that’s none of your business.”

He starts to walk away, taking another drag. My heart sinks. For some reason, I put my hand on his shoulder again, trying to stop him from leaving. “But I want to help you.” I say.

He turns around. “I don’t want your help. Leave me alone!” He pushes my hand away, a little firmer, and Sam and John come up and get between me and him.

“Come on. Let’s just go home.” Sam says.

The boy, Smithy, and I just stare at each other for a moment. I feel like I’m gonna cry. I know I shouldn’t let it, but it kind of hurt when he pushed me away.

Except he looks like he wants to cry, too. I hesitate, but follow Sam and John back across the road. Looking back, he’s still watching us, and I can see the tears roll down his face. Before we round the corner, I see him stare at his joint for a moment, then back at me, and then he takes another long drag.

I actually cry as we round the corner. “Are you okay?” Sam asks me.

I try to shake off my tears. “Aye, I’m fine.” It doesn’t work. They still fall.

Sam doesn’t say anything else until we get home. While John makes hot chocolate, Sam talks to me. “What did he say to you, and do I need to kick his ass?”

I lean against my hand, resting my elbow on the couch. “Nothing… I mean nothing that deserves an ass-kicking.”

“I know you wanted to help him, but sometimes there are people you can’t help… Or, shouldn’t if you’re only 13 and have no training,” Sam continues.

I’m silent for a moment. Then I look at her. “I guess you’re right.”

Sam pats me on the arm. “I love you for wanting to help people in need, though.”

I nod silently as Sam gets up to put the movie in. I’m quiet for the rest of the movie. Somewhere between jingely-bells and Tigger hiding under Rabbit’s bed, Bart comes home with Mary. I tried to be talkative, but I wasn’t feeling like it, and Bart could tell.

After the movie, he tells us. “Mum told me to make you dinner cause she’s gonna be a little late.”

I nod. “Are you okay?” Bart asks me.

I look at him. “Aye, I’m fine.”

Sam looks at him, too. “She saw this kid on the street outside a liquor store, smoking a joint, and tried to help him, and he pushed her away.”

Bart raises his eyebrows. “He pushed you?”

“He pushed my hand off his shoulder. He didn’t push me.” I say.

Bart gets up and goes to the door. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go tell him off.” Bart says.

“You’re going to what?” I say. “Bart, no!”

“Cory, people don’t get to push you around without answering to me.” Bart leaves.

Mary follows him. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything he’ll regret.”

I slump in my chair.