#I wish knew about that when I was more active in the fandom!

[pet-cemetery-emotes]

This bitch breeds like tribbles. Neuter your cats, people.

"This user is Lalna... sort of." Userboxes.

[crownedwille]

Are there still Crown Prince!Wilhelm stans out there despite S3 turning it into the number one problem? Please report, we need to unite and no, that doesn't mean that I don't support Wille's mental health and happiness and that I love the monarchy, some people out there must get it

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[fever-project]

I’m not DEAD, Daniel (2904 words) by FeverProject Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, Danny Phantom Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danny Fenton & Wild (Linked Universe) Characters: Danny Fenton, Wild (Linked Universe), the rest of the LU gang are also there but they aren’t important Additional Tags: This isn’t crack but it sure is silly, very much so for me, Ghost King Danny Fenton, Tired Danny Fenton, Wild (Linked Universe) is a Little Shit, might be ooc hopefully not, Misunderstandings, just a little bit Summary: DPxLU crossover because I couldn’t help myself. Surprised I didn’t do this earlier considering gestures at my everything Wild has an encounter with the Ghost King. It is definitely an experience.

Uhhh fanfic, yeah. I’m going to explode. Art

Enjoy 👍

▼

Wild was bored. Which wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, but it was one that he hated. It was night time now and he was supposed to be asleep, just like everybody else in the inn. But he wasn’t like everybody else, he already slept for 100 years straight, sleeping was only useful to him if and when he wanted to be more healthy. And sleeping every night was generally considered to be healthy, but Wild didn’t care, he needed to move.

Out the window he went, quiet as a mouse. Hopefully no one would notice he was gone, and that he would be back before morning came. But there was an entire forest nearby to explore, and he felt like he could-no, should explore to his heart’s content. The wilderness called to him, beckoned him in. That’s what he kept repeating to himself in his mind anyway, as a way to reassure himself, that as a hero who had saved Hyrule, sneaking out at night and potentially worrying the other heroes wouldn’t be a stupid thing to do. Zelda would’ve thought otherwise, and he knew that, but tried not to think about it too much.

The forest was mostly quiet, save for things like the chirping of birds and crickets. The faint rustling of trees was like music to his ears. There was a light breeze, which felt nice against his face as he ventured further into the forest. He tried his best to walk in as straight of a line as he could, to more easily find his way back. He really wished his Sheikah Slate worked properly in this time, maps made everything much easier. But then he would have to go searching for those towers, and while as fun as they were to activate, took up far too much time, much more than he and his group were currently willing to spare.

Wild was suddenly on edge. That odd shapeshifting, Lizalfos-looking, portal opening thing was still out there. Not to mention the black-blooded monsters that thing infected. Wild sighed as walked, now paranoid and frustrated. After a few moments of that, he finally gained enough brain cells to figure out that he should probably head back. With another sigh, which was more of a groan, he spun on his heel, turning around to make his way back to the inn.

Soon enough, something in the air…shifted, he couldn’t tell what. An oddly familiar yet unnatural feeling enveloped his senses as the sky started to turn into an odd shade of pinkish purple. The few clouds up in the sky, only a slightly lighter shade than the sky itself, swirled around above him, as the space in front of him split. Wild felt his heart drop and his breath leave his body as the rift continued to grow. Green glowing light bleed out from it, lighting up the trees and grass and him. Something was happening, something bad, and it was targeting him. He stumbled back, he had to, he had to get away and yet. And yet. It was calling to him. It was scaring him, the world behind the rift hated and loved him all the same.

Wild had to escape.

Wild tried to breathe, in and out, slowly, calmly, he looked for a way out. Trees, there were only trees and more trees and bushes and grass and even more trees-slowly, in and out, his breathing, his breath. He was alive, and he was going to make sure he would stay that way, bright green portal notwithstanding. The portal was growing bigger, quickly, but not as quick as Wild’s mind was when it was panicking. Maybe that meant that panicking was a good thing. Wild almost stopped panicking completely once he realized how stupid that thought sounded. His panic swiftly returned when a white boot stepped out of the portal. When matching white gloves also came out, Wild went to get out his sword and shield, fumbling with his slate as the person emerged from the rift, it closing behind them soon after.

“Excuse me?” The person asked, their words 

echoing, despite the conditions for that to logically happen simply not existing here. Wild stiffened, having only gotten his sword out. But he knew deep within his soul that it wouldn’t be very effective against the higher being standing before him. Yet his grip tightened despite that. He wouldn’t run away, not now, he would try his best to fight this being off if he had to. And if that failed, he would retreat, tactically.

The being was dressed in an odd black and white outfit, having tan skin and white hair. Their bright green eyes, glowing body, and their crown that was literally on fire were very clear signs that this person wasn’t anything he’s seen before. Not to mention the hovering. And the portal they just came out of. And the weird voice-and Wild needed to start focusing on the situation at hand.

The being raised their hands up defensively, “Hey, put down the sword, I’m not looking for a fight,” they said, “I’m just. Looking for someone, yeah.”

“Uh huh,” Wild dumbly nodded, keeping his eyes on them.

“Right, okay, let me just-“ they looked around, suspicious at their surroundings, “-okay, don’t tell anyone you saw me, or that you saw this. Actually, it doesn’t matter, forget what I just said.”

Wild nodded again, watching as a ring of light came out of their waist, enveloping them as they donned a more hylian appearance. They had even odder clothes on in this form, baggy and worn. Their skin was paler and their hair was pitch black. They looked like death in the form of a teenage boy.

“Are you Death?” Wild asked blatantly. Listen, he was curious, he need to know this. The being raised an eyebrow at him, confusion evident on his face. “Like,” Wild scrambled to rationalize his less than rational thought process, “I don’t know, you seem scary? And corpse-like? Are you dead? Am I dead-well, no, I can’t be dead, that would be silly, ha. But are you?”

“Well I am the Ghost King, king of ghosts,” they said plainly, with a shrug, “Name’s Danny, Danny Phantom, and that’s really all you know about that. Listen-“

“Aren’t you like, twelve?” Wild knew they probably weren’t twelve, but this ‘Ghost King’ guy looked pretty young.

“What? No! I’m not twelve, I’m like-“ they pouted, like a twelve year old, snapping their fingers in thought, “older than you!”

“Oh yeah, I’m-“ Wild stopped, wondering if it would be smart to tell the Ghost King that he’s technically one hundred and seventeen years old. “I am at least seventeen! And I look like it as well.”

“You’re the same height as me.”

Wild looked at the ghost, glared at them, walking a bit closer to them. He placed his hand on top of his head and moved it forward, towards the Ghost King’s head. His hand brushed against their hair, but it clearly didn’t reach the top of their head. Wild grinned, well, wildly at the sight of being taller than them. They looked unimpressed.

“You’re the one acting like a twelve year old you know,” Danny scoffed, pouting.

“Says the pouter.”

“Look, can you just help me find this guy, since you’ve clearly calmed down now.”

“And why should I?”

“I’ll make your afterlife terrible otherwise.”

“Fine, I’ll help, gosh,” Wild was probably going to help anyways, he liked helping people. He just wanted to be annoying. “So, who and why?”

“Great! So, I’m looking for this guy named Link,” oh no, “Clockwork-he’s a time ghost, don’t worry about him-told me that he was hoping around other times with other guys also named Link.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well-okay, you’re annoying so I’m just going to ignore that-“

“Time isn’t real.”

The two stared at each other, and Wild both wanted to punch himself in the face, and thought he was the funniest man alive. Danny seemed to think the same way too, with their bewildered expression suddenly turned into one holding back a lot of laughter.

“Al-alright, that was good I’ll give you that,” they chuckled, “Anyways, I’m looking for this specific Link because they’re supposed to dead, and I’m supposed to like-do something about that. I think I have a picture of this guy that Clockwork gave me, hold on.” They stuffed their hand through their goddess forsaken chest, and rummaged around like their own body was a mere storage container. Wild was instantly jealous of them. Sure he had his Sheikah Slate, but it wasn’t a part of his body.

Wait, Danny had a picture of him. Oh no, they were going to kill him. He didn’t need them to say word for word that they were going to kill him, but Wild didn’t know what else they could do to him. He needed to be on his toes and hone his quick reflexes in order to survive this ordeal.

“Annnd-nope, that’s my thermos-here it is!” They pulled out a piece of folded paper, and just as they started to unfold it, Wild snatched it from their hand and shoved it into his mouth.

“Wha-WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!” Danny shrieked, hands on the side of his head, horrified.

“‘Cause,” Wild responded in a muffled voice, chewing the paper. Tasted inky.

“Okay, you are definitely the weirdest person I’ve ever met, an I know a ghost who whole personality is boxes, just boxes. Actually, I don’t think he’s that weird compared to some other fruitloops I know of-but that doesn’t matter, spit that out!”

“No.”

“You are acting like a twelve year old-no, even twelve year olds wouldn’t do this, you’re five.”

Wild gasped, photo smushed to the side of his mouth, in between his cheek and teeth so it wouldn’t fall out.

“You’re just mad I’m right.”

“Nah uh!”

“Then how about you spit that out, like a normal, seventeen-you’re seventeen right?” Wild nodded, “Right, like a normal seventeen year old would, or I’ll phase it out of your mouth by force.” Wild did not like sound of that. So he spit out the photo, the slobbery mess falling onto the grass. Even Wild was grossed out by what he had done. Danny clearly was.

“You’re going to have to unfold that yourself, I’m not touching that,” Danny looked sick.

“Yeah, that’s fair, I’ll do that,” why wasn’t the paper metal, then he could use his Sheikah Slate to pick it up. Good thing he had some spare gloves stored in it, so it was fine, it’s fine. He started to unfold the paper, Danny peering over his shoulder, both with matching disgusted expressions. Wild was right about the contents of the drawing. His face, blast scars and all, was right there. Wild looked at Danny. Danny looked at him. Wild wanted to punch them in face and run off, but they are a ghost. But Wild still slowly raised his free hand into a fist, retaining eye contact.

Danny began to speak, “So-“ Wild swiftly punched them in their face, and skittered backwards, trying to look for a way back to the inn safely. The ghost had stumbled back, clutching their face in pain.

“Huh, so you can punch ghosts,” Wild noted.

“You can definitely punch this ghost,” Danny rubbed their hurt nose, “Didn’t even get me a chance to speak.”

“Please don’t kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you, that’s not what I’m here for.”

“Oh.”

“Bet you feel stupid now, don’t ya?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

Danny sighs, pinching their nose, not in pain this time, but annoyance. “So,” they started again, “what I’m trying to do is get you on the ‘Supposed to be Dead but Came Back Anyways’ census. Basically, the name’s a work in progress.”

“And…I’m supposed to do something about it?”

“Kinda? Look, just sign here, and I’ll get out of your hair.” They pulled out another piece of paper out of their chest, with already had a few other names on it in neat little boxes. Wild couldn’t read any of those names, but Danny probably could.

Wild’s face scrunched up, trying to think about what he should do next. They hadn’t really explained their reasoning for any of this, so he still didn’t trust them too much. Maybe this was some elaborate ruse to kill him.

“Will me signing this ‘census’ give me any benefits-will it give you any benefits?” Wild pointed accusingly at Danny.

“Well, are you dead?”

Wild groaned, “I’m not DEAD Daniel,” Wild threw his hands into the air in frustration, “Just use your stupid ghost words to explain to me what I need to do and why.”

“Okay,” Danny squeaked out, “But first off, name’s just Danny.”

“Uh huh.”

“And secondly, I’m doing this because there’s a bunch of ghost legal jargon where your name was already listed on both the ‘dead,’ and then also the ‘not dead’ list after you came back to life. You signing this will help fix that.”

“…Aren’t I time traveling right now?”

“Yes, but it’s still good to note down who had came back to life. Please just make my life easier, this is themost stress inducing part of my job I’ve ever done.”

Wild was starting to feel a bit bad now. So now, with a better understanding of the situation, he took the paper from Danny’s hands.

“Here’s a pen to write with,” Danny gave him a pen from their chest.

“Can all ghosts store stuff in their bodies?” Wild asked as he wrote down his name in the next free box, adding on his title of ‘Hero of the Wild’ in the same box, just to specify things.

“No, but I sure can,” they said with a big smile.

“That’s so cool.”

“I know.”

The two laughed a bit as Wild returned the paper and pen to Danny.

“Well, sorry for not explaining my motivations fully, I’m a bit…tired, ha ha,” Danny rubbed the back of their neck, clearly embarrassed.

“Yeah. Sorry for punching you.”

“Now I’m going to go take a nap. Or sleep for once.” A ring of light enveloped Danny yet again, returning him to his more ghostly form. Then he turned around and held out his hand, before cutting the space there, opening the bright green portal.

“See you in the Ghost Zone, Link! Eventually!” They waved as they stepped into the rift.

Wild waved back, “That sounds pretty ominous, but okay!” Danny laughed at that as he went all the way through, the portal closing soon after. Now Wild was left all alone in the woods.

He needed to get back to the inn.

It took him some time, but he eventually found his way back to the inn. In through the window, as quiet as a ghost, he was back in his room. He flopped down onto his bed, mentally exhausted. He would’ve rather been bored than have had dealt with…whatever that was. Not really, but Wild was certainly ready to go to sleep now, and pray that he wouldn’t have to meet that Ghost King ever again. Not because he was scared, but because he was a bit embarrassed about what happened. He acted a bit stupid there. But none of that mattered now. All that Wild had to do now, was to sleep.

ー

“Has anyone seen the champion yet?” Time asked, looking over the group that were all hanging around the inn’s dining room.

“Nope,” Warriors said with a pop, “He’s likely still asleep.”

“But I’m hungry,” Wind whined, “Captain, do you know how to cook?”

“I know how to make things edible and nutritious,” Wars plainly answered, receiving a few groans from various Links.

“We could just have the food they serve here,” Twilight suggested.

“Champ’s better,” Four retorted.

“How about we all wait a bit longer,” Time said, “It hasn’t even been half an hour since we woke up after all.”

They all muttered their agreements, and choose to occupy themselves with taking count of their resources for the time being. A few more minutes passed before Legend noticed something.

“Hey guys, I think I see the champ coming down right now,” Legend pointed at the staircase, and the other heroes scrambled to see their resident chef stumbling down the stairs.

“Are you doing alright?” Hyrule asked.

“You seem exhausted,” Sky added.

“Ye-yeah,” Wild yawned, stretching his arms, “Ghost problems and all that stuff.” He set out to make some food for his companions, who were looking at him with confusion and concern.

“Ghost problems?” A few of them asked at once.

“Is this place haunted?” Wind looked around with an excited grin on his face.

“Nope, but I sure got haunted in the woods out there,” Wild waved in the vague direction of where the forest was, “Now I’m going to make something to eat, want some?”

Of course they wanted some, food was important. They continued to ask questions about the ghost, but Wild didn’t answer, he didn’t feel like it. Maybe in like, two days he would. But for now, he just wanted to eat some Vegetable Risotto, maybe with a few Endura Carrots thrown in as well. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to deal with that Ghost King again anytime soon. At least, hopefully not before this time traveling adventure ends.

[thecynthh]

a little ink - C.S

summery - y/n is journaling in bed but chris gets bored of his phone and begins to play around with y/n's stationary.

notes - fluff <33333, chris is so boyfriend, i thought the fandom needed more fluff, short

a/n - hey yall, this is an apology gift because ive been bad on being active and writing so enjoy this lil thing i whipped up.

——————————————————————————

——————————————————————————

i stationed myself on my side of the large bed with a little tray table on top of my bare legs. my shorts barely covered up to my mid thigh so the vent near me was absolutely chilling. i begin to go slowly when i'm trying to write a title for my next page, i began to journal when my boyfriends brother and my therapist recommended it to me, despite how simple matt’s was, I thought i could take it up a notch and make it a little cutesy. 

my pencil case was jam packed with highlighters, colourful pens and high quality markers, my concentration stays strict on the page in front of me, i tried to keep my penmanship neat while i'm trying to write something in cursive. a warm hand wraps around my ankles as i look down beside me seeing chris look at me with want in his eyes. “hi chris,” i simply say looking at the boy while i put the cap back onto my brush tip marker. 

“hi baby,” he looks up at me with a beaming bright smile, he just radiates good energy and love. he drops his phone beside him now playing a song instead of the various audios from tiktok. 

his hand sneaks up into my pencil case grabbing a yellow marker from it. he uncaps it and i feel the light pressure of it press down onto my skin, the yellow marker glides along my scar, he continues to draw past it to make a star out of the previously hurt skin. chris knew i was self conscious about my scars, it was a permanent reminder of the pain i went through in highschool. 

he didn’t care though. he continued to draw random doodles on my leg, moving on to my arms where more scars lay hurt, he switched out his marker for a different colour the more he explored. little hearts, stars and chris’ signature riddle my legs and arms, i feel his writing getting a bit faster. It looks like a sentence but i couldn’t quite read it.

 i stopped what i was doing a long time ago, now just admiring what he was doing. he was so focused on writing his signature on the larger line of a scar i had on my arm using the line from my body to represent the line through the dollar sign he always made whenever he wrote his name. 

he does a very magnificent heart beside his name, filling it in still trying to be very soft on  my skin as the ink seeps in. he plants a fulfilling kiss onto the scar now covered in orange ink, he looks up at me with a little bit of a knowing look painted on his face. “im sorry, it was only meant to be a little ink but your scars are beautiful, as is the rest of you.” his finger underlines the sentence imprinted on my skin as he reads it out. 

“chris i'm gonna cry oh my gosh. you are so cute, you know that?” i saw trying to hold back a sob. 

a chuckle escapes his smiley lips “i love you so much y/n” his lips make contact with the star that started the rest of the pseudo tattoos. i wish i could keep this image in my head forever, because this was a moment too precious to let go of.

taglist - @westwiing13 @comet235 @mayhem73

[amalthiaph]

I took an interest in The Bad Batch around the tailend of S2. It's not news to Tumblr that I almost slept on this show. And I cannot thank Caleb Dume enough for being the reason why I pressed the play button for this one. While I haven't been around for most of its active run, and I wish I had been, the last year has been among the best months of my life.

This show challenged my morals, and taught me lessons that I will forever take with me.

Tech taught me to embrace and take pride in who I am. I now think that I am not something that needs to be cured. I needed to be understood and accepted. He taught me that we deserved to be loved and be allowed to live the way we want to (as long as we are not causing harm to ourselves or to others).

Hunter taught me that at the end of the day, we're all still humans. We make mistakes. We fail. But we can learn from them, and we can strive to be better. And I should also take care of my hair bec I cannot accept that a man in a galactic war have better hair than me (Okay, did you honestly think I'm gonna be serious this entire essay?)

Crosshair taught me that at the end of the day, we really are still humans. Sometimes, we make choices that not everyone will understand or agree to. Sometimes, we don't even understand our own choices. But we can learn from them, and we can strive to be better. And that I should also go to therapy bec istg my hand shakes like hell I always need to rely on a pen stabilizer when doing my artworks.

Wrecker taught me that in this world where we can be anything, always choose to be kind. He is a great man who would always be there for everyone, and I hope that one day, I can be that person too. He is afraid of heights, but he climbs and go on high places anyway. Like him, I should also start conquering my fears. Dear Wrecker, I did try conquering my fear of heights last March 9 but I can't. I will try again.

Echo taught me to always fight for the greater good. Almost two years ago, me and a group of people campaigned for a great tomorrow. With pink flags and pink balloons, we worked on our little thing I like to call our rebellion. Sadly, we lost. At times, I am thinking of just giving up bec that's democracy and I cannot go against the people's decision, but characters like Echo and the rest of Rogue One taught me that nothing should ever stop me for fighting for the people's rights and that my love for my fellow citizens should always come first before hatred.

And lastly, Omega taught me to be curious, or more likely to not be ashamed for being curious. Learn about the world. Learn about lots of things. We never know when we need it. While I could say be good at strategy and win 30 grand on card games, nahhh, I'm not that smart.

I also learned to reevalutate myself as an artist. This show taught me integrity. I had ranted about this lately but these characters challenged me in terms of art. I knew that the creators aren't best at proper representation. While I could draw them as they are in the show, I choose to stand for what is right, and represent them as properly as my skills could. In the more technical side, I became good at drawing armors. And this little Actors AU Draw Series taught me to be responsible; I tried my very best to create and post them on time. This increased my productivity.

But enough about me.

There's something I realized two nights ago; we, the fandom, are Bad Batchers ourselves. We can consider ourselves a family, but not one of us is the same and we're all interesting, and capable in our own unique ways. We can have our own opinion and stand about something and still coexist. Like our favorite charactera, we embrace and celebrate our differences.

This show may end. No more Bad Batch Eves, no more cryptic tweets that cause us to hyperventilate, no more Bad Batch Wednesdays but it will live on, through us.

I know there will be a day where we decrease in number, one by one, little by little, but still, the show will live on through our actions, our opinions, our choices we make after May 1, 2024 because I know that all of us were changed in some ways by these characters and this show.

To the crew, your cryptic tweets caused me sleepless nights, but thank you so, so much. It is through your hardwork that we had this wonderful show. Thank you for making every second of the past year so worthwhile and enjoyable for me and for everyone.

However this show will end, whether happy or sad, I am glad it happened. However short my time was with them, I am happy I had been here. However short my time with everyone in the fandom was or if some of you leave one day, still, thank you so much for being part of my life; I am so happy I met all of you.

To Clone Force 99, thank you. I've never loved anything like this before. May the Force be with you.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

have you seen the haitani brothers backstory crumbs? it was actually revealed a while back in an interview but i wasn't as active in the fandom so i just found out about it recently. i wonder if i'm the only one who just knew 😭

ran was a low ranking member in the rokusei community (owned by max maniacs), and he cheated the execs out of their money which is what lead to the fight between them in roppongi. i really wish we got more of their backstory! i wanna know why ran was even a member to begin with and if rindou was too

Yeah I do! This was an interview released back in November 2022, right around the same time the manga ended. Wakui was answering a few questions and one of them was if there was anything he was unable to draw in the main story but wanted to include. This is where Wakui mentioned wanting to add more to Sanzu and Takeomi's dynamic/ backstory. Then he also mentions how he wanted to draw out the war of the ashes and the Haitani brother's rise. The max maniacs had a very big market in Roppongi called the Rokusei community, they were involved in a lot of sketchy stuff including human trafficking and also fraud. Ran was in this community but in a lower rank and cheated the execs out of their money. They got really angry and the Haitani's fought back and were no longer in their gang, then presumably the fight happened. Although Rindou isn't mentioned, both of them are referred to at the end and as no longer being part of the team so presumably Rindou was somewhat involved with the gang too.

Now this interview was originally on the livedoor news website, however has since been deleted (I'm not sure when it was or why, if it's been deleted for a reason or if it's just because it's been nearly 2 years and isn't relevant/ wasn't getting traffic anymore). There is still a summary of the interview up though. (The last point is supposed to say why Sanzu left Takeomi but is a bad translation). We have pretty much all these details about the interview thanks to fan translators, all of the ones who posted about this being very reliable and translating a lot of other old tr news.

[bad268]

Hii can I request a Paul Aron x reader? Maybe like they went to school together and she was known to keep to herself but he finds out she drifts cars as a passion outside of school. Maybe a cute interaction after he watches her and he's with a couple friends too?

Drift to Survive (Paul Aron X Drifter! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/3

Requested: Clearly (haha I speedran this, but I learned a lot of shit about drifting <3) (Also, off-topic but LOOK AT HIS HAND)

Warnings: None

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1132

Summary: Drifter! reader decides it's time to share the infamous after-school activity.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

What had started as an after-school activity turned into a fully-fledged career after a while. You had started drifting back when you were younger. Your dad used to compete in Drift Masters (DM), and you had always been interested in it since he would take you to the rounds.

By the time you were 10, your dad was taking you out to open fields or empty tracks to drift, and when you reached 15, you started competing in lower levels. It was difficult managing a full-time career on top of finishing school, but it would be worth it in the end.

Somedays you wish you had told your school friends about your passion for drifting, but then you remember how critical people are of different interests. It was better to keep it on the down-low until you got better at least.

Well, to say you were getting better would be an understatement. You started competing in Formula Drift earlier this year, and you were dominating. You just found out that if you secured the championship, you would be offered a seat in DM. 

Since there was a race for you this weekend, you decided to bite the bullet and invite a couple of your closest friends. They were racing in Formula 2 or Formula 3, and you knew they did not have a race that weekend. Surely, they were free. 

You sent a quick text to the group chat that included Dino, Ollie, Jak, and your best friend, Paul. Maybe you wished Paul was more, but right now, your focus was on your career, especially since you just graduated and were moving up in the world. That was something you could pursue another day.  

They all accepted immediately, intrigued at the prospect. They did not really attend a race where placement did not matter, so they were interested to learn about it. Also, they did not think it was something you were interested in. You were just so quiet. They did not expect you to be interested in their type of racing, let alone a more dangerous branch of it. 

The day of the event came, and you were feeling more confident than ever. You had done a few practice runs with your dad again, and he was confident you would get that DM seat. Your friends arrived at your room early that morning since you all agreed to carpool together. 

You all loaded in the car. You drove. It was after much debate from the guys, saying they were the racing drivers, but you rebuttled with how Ollie could not pass his driver’s license test. Plus, it was your car that your dad drove over for you. You did not plan on letting any of them take your car.

Paul sat in the front, Jak and Ollie took the window seats, and Dino sat in the middle despite him saying he was too tall for it. Granted, he was the shortest of the three, so his argument was invalid. 

You let Dino have control over the music, so he would shut up. Thankfully, he did have good taste in music. You made it to the track in no time, and you drove around to the back where drivers and the teams would park. The boys looked at you funny as you showed the garage passes to security, but no one asked anything until you parked.

“You never told us,” Paul started as he climbed out of the car and followed you toward the boot. You were grabbing out a bag that had some of your essentials like team merch, hat, and snacks. All of your racing gear was already with the team. Paul closed the boot for you after you grabbed the bag out. “Where are we sitting?”

“You guys are sitting in the garage,” You answered as you locked the car after Ollie, Dino, and Jak clambered out of the car just in time to hear your answer. They all gaped at you before Dino made a connection.

“Wait, where will you be?’

“In the car,” You said simply as you handed them the badges and walked down toward the entrance. They all stood in shock for a minute before running to catch up. You led them around before parting off to your garage. Ollie, Dino, and Jak decided they wanted to explore a bit more, but Paul said he wanted to stick with you. Plus, he really wanted to look at your car.

Call him a nerd, but all cars are interesting to him. 

You did just that. It did not take him long to realize that you were the “amazing”, “talented”, and “once-in-a-generation” driver that everyone talked about. You used an alias while driving, so he never made the connection before. You showed him your car, let him sit in it, and showed him your special helmet. Since this event was so special, you did a specialty helmet based on your dad’s helmet. If you could secure your DM seat with your dad’s helmet, it would have come full circle since he was the one to help you get there.

“Wow, this is incredible! I never knew you did this,” Paul said in awe as you explained a few more things in your driver's room while getting ready to get in the car. “It suits you though.”

“Thanks, Paul,” You laughed at that. “No one ever asks what I do outside of school, so I never said anything.”

“Well, now I’m gonna make it my mission to learn everything about you,” Paul said in a soft tone as he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you into his body. He used one of his hands to do up the zipper and velcro of your race suit before resting his hand against the side of your neck, “If you’ll let me, that is?”

“I’d always let you in, Paul,” You whispered back as you slowly leaned in to press your lips against his. It did not last long as one of your managers knocked on the door, telling you it was time to get in the car. Reluctantly, you pulled away from him as you pulled your balaclava on and grabbed your helmet. “That’s my cue. Time to drift to survive. You better be watching from the garage. I need all of the energy I can get.”

“I manifesting that win for you,” Paul laughed as he followed you out to the car. As soon as you were situated in your seat, he leaned in one last time to give you a last piece of motivation, “You’ve got all of us behind you, just breathe, and you’ll do great as always. I’ll be waiting for you at the finish line to take you out for victory drinks.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[aestheticaltcow]

Family Ties

I love that the fandom sees Carmy as a girl dad who practices gentle parenting. Gentle parenting is a great parenting style, don't get me wrong. Personally, I can see him butting heads with his teenage daughter like he wants her to express herself- but he also knows that teenage boys are weird and would want to protect her at all costs. This was just a thought I had a couple of days ago, and once I started, I couldn't stop. More Dad!Carmy content to come...

A/N: I didn't realize until I copy pasted this from my Google Drive. This was 6 freakin pages. I like longer fics, I'm sorry.

The Bear Masterlist

Carmy was furious. It took a lot of effort for him to ‘gentle parent’ with you when the kids, Grace and Oliver, were little. Now that both kids are in high school, he wishes he had been harder on them. You reassure him that the two of you have great kids, both work hard in school, participate in extracurricular activities, and aren’t afraid to talk to them about anything - he insisted he should have been harder on them, especially when he gets calls from the school about Oliver getting suspended… again. 

Oliver was 15, and Carmy was convinced he was Mikey's reincarnation. Like you had, he did well in school, but he was Mikey in every other aspect of life. He just needed to get his head out of his ass before out-of-school suspension became stints in jail. 

As Carmy walked down the hall to the principal’s office, he saw Oliver sitting on a bench talking to Grace- Grace, his little girl, granted she wasn’t as little anymore. She’s 17 and looked exactly like you when you were her age- except she had gotten his eyes. “Oliver.” Carmy barked, getting his attention. 

Grace looked at her brother nervously. Carmy wasn’t the kind of Dad to ‘approve’ of her clothing, but he’d fight her on it occasionally, especially regarding crop tops and dresses. It came from a place of caring and not wanting his little girl to get hurt, but Carmy could take it too far.

 Carmy noticed Grace turning the opposite way to get away from the Berzatto boys,

“Grace? Shouldn’t you be in class or somethin’?” Carmy questioned; she stopped in her tracks, knowing Carmy wasn’t in the best mood. She turned around and hoped he was too mad, Oliver, to notice the cropped corset she’d worn to school that day. It’s not like she’d worn it to get a guy to notice her; she’d just liked the contrast of its light green color with her baggy jeans, and she was supposed to match outfits with the rest of the dance team that day so he couldn’t be mad at it- especially since he’d encouraged her to join the dance team freshman year. “Someone texted me that Oli was out here- just wanted to make sure no one beat my baby brother’s ass.” she laughed. Carmy shot her his classic ‘I’m your father, I know when you’re lying look’ but shook his head; he was not ready to deal with that. “Put on a sweater.” Grace nodded at Carmy’s casual dislike of her top, “Yes, sir.”

Initially, Carmy was going to let it slide. He knew Grace was 17, she was going to college next year, and he wouldn’t be able to encourage her to make the right decision anymore, but while she was under his roof, she’d live by his rules. You laughed when he brought it up to you that night in bed. “Carmy, she’s a good kid. Gracie has good grades. She has good friends. She works; if she wants to wear a crop top, she can wear a crop top.” Carmy sighed. He saw the point you’d been trying to make with that explanation but wasn’t happy.

Grace hoped Carmy wouldn’t bring up her wardrobe, but unfortunately, she was wrong. Carmy had hired an older brother of one of Grace’s friends at The Bear- that’s how he’d found out about Grace’s non-family Instagram account. She hadn’t posted anything too scandalous; there were some pictures from parties where she was holding a red Solo cup, a few from a dance competition after-party where she’d been wearing something Carmy wouldn’t have allowed her to leave the house in, and of course the soft launch of her relationship. He was seething; you hadn’t known about the account either- you’d heard Grace talk to her cousins about a boy she liked, but the drinking and parties also surprised you. 

“Carmy, you neeeeed to be careful with how you speak to Grace about this,” you emphasized through the phone. Of course, this would come up when you were out of town. “Baby, I’ll handle it.” “Carmen Anthony Berzatto. Do not, I repeat, do not shame our daughter. You can tell her you’re unhappy-” “I’ll handle it.” he hung up, and you knew you’d be walking into a shit storm when you returned home.

“Fuck off, Dad!” Grace screamed as she slammed her bedroom door. To say Carmy mishandled the situation would be an understatement; he stood outside Grace’s door, immediately regretting what he’d said about Grace. He questioned her character; he knew she was a good kid; he wanted to knock on her door and apologize, but Grace didn’t want to hear it.

Oliver sat in his bedroom and heard Carmy and Grace yell at each other throughout the weekend. He laughed when he realized Carmy double-downed on what he’d initially said about Grace ‘not being that kind of girl.’ and how people would ‘never take her seriously’ when he dropped the word ‘whore’ he knew there would be hell when you came home. The front door slammed, and he heard Carmy yell ‘fuck’ and slam a door. He looked out his bedroom window to see Grace running up the street. Oliver sighed and fished his phone out of his pocket; “Oli fuck off.” Grace huffed before immediately hanging up on him. He rolled his eyes and dialed your number. “Hi baby, everything okay?” “Nope.”

The house was antagonistic. Carmy was pissed at himself, you and Grace were also pissed at him, and Oliver managed to sink into the background. The family dinners you’d shared were typically full of conversation and life, but tonight was awkwardly silent. Oliver decided he’d take a crack at making it better, “Uncle Richie got to 100 Instagram followers. He’s pretty excited about it.” no one took the bait. He poked at the chicken on his plate, “Good dinner, am I right?” he grinned, looking around the table. Grace rolled her eyes and stood up from the table, “Grace?” you called after her. She ignored your question and went upstairs. “Well, I think it’s a good dinner- conversation wasn’t the best, but… we’ll get through it.” Oliver tried to lighten the tension in the room, but he inevitably failed, and Carmy told him to go to his room. Oliver obliged, taking his and Grace’s plates to the sink before shuffling upstairs. He walked past Grace’s room on the way. He paused and stood before the door; it was too quiet. He knocked softly before opening the door; she was gone.

“I just don’t know what to say to him. I’m pissed.” Grace vented as she lay beside Eva in the park by her apartment, “My dad was the same way, except he threw my clothes away. My mom ripped him a new one over it.” “Should I accept his apology and move out as soon as possible?” Eva shook her head and laughed at the suggestion. “Gracie, you know what you need to do.” Grace sighed, knowing her cousin was right. She sat up and pushed her hair back. “I’m gonna hide out at Danny’s house. Cover for me?” “Of course. Don’t get pregnant.” 

“Gracie girl? Can I come in, honey?” you asked outside her door, but there was no response. “Baby, please?” you asked again. “She’s not home,” Oliver said, walking past you to the bathroom. “What do you mean she’s not home?” he shrugged. “I guess she snuck out after dinner.”. You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration before walking into your and Carmy’s bedroom, “You have to fix this, Carmen.” you scolded in your best mom voice he’d heard a thousand times, granted it was typically directed at one of the kids. “Baby, how can-” “Carmen. If you ever want to be inside me again, you’ll fix this.” Carmy leaned back against the headboard; he didn’t think something like this could be fixed. 

“Oh, hi, Grace.” Danny’s mom greeted her when she realized she was sitting on the couch with Danny. “Hi, Mrs. De Luca.” she smiled back, “How are you, sweetheart?” Grace shrugged at the question, “Been better.” “Oh, I’m sorry, Grace,” she frowned before turning her attention to her son “Danny. I need you to take Annie to school tomorrow morning, okay? I’m doin’ an overnight.” Danny nodded in acknowledgment. She smiled again and quickly ran out of the house, leaving Danny and Grace in the living room and Danny’s sister Annie upstairs, tucked into bed. 

“So. What’s goin on with you?” Danny finally asked. He wasn’t mad that she’d come over unannounced, but it was obvious that Grace had been crying. Grace shrugged at the question, “Guess I just wanted to see you.” Danny scoffed. “Grace. Com’ on. You only come over on weeknights when you’re upset.” “Do not.” Grace challenged, leaning into his side. “I will tickle it out of you, baby. You should just tell me what’s up.” he insisted, sitting up slightly. Grace groaned and sat up, bringing her knees to her chest. She told him that she and Carmy were fighting about her ‘secret online life that everyone can see’ and how ‘she’s not that kind of girl,’ so why was she pretending to be? She was hesitant to include the part where Carmy had called her a whore, but as she looked at Danny’s sympathetic face, she couldn’t hold back. “The house is awkward- Oli tried to make a joke out of it, but it was just so fuckin’ annoying. I’m just disappointed in myself… he’s never mad at me, Danny.” Danny nodded. “I get that. What me to beat him up for callin’ you a whore? You know I will.” Grace rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Carmy sat outside on the porch smoking when he saw headlights coming in his direction; it was almost 2 in the morning. He sighed and took a final puff before ashing his cigarette. He assumed it was Grace, and he was correct. He heard her say her goodbyes to whoever dropped her off and waited for her to come up the driveway. “Hi, Grace.” he greeted, his lips pulling into a tight line due to their growing awkwardness. “Dad,” she responded, crossing her arms over her stomach. “Where were you?” “With Eva.” Carmy nodded. “Can I talk to you?” Grace shrugged and moved closer to Carmy. “I want to apologize, Gracie. I shouldn’t have said that about you. You have a good head on those shoulders- but I don’t want you to get hurt. Girls who posted stuff like that online when I was 17… you know what happened. Rumors and shit- I just don’t want people doin' that to you.” he explained, scratching at the back of his neck. Grace nodded, taking in what he’d said. “I understand, but I’m not a little girl anymore, Dad. I can handle myself; if I can’t, Danny has my back.” Carmy nodded, “We good?” he asked, looking down at Grace. He smiled when he saw her pulling her sleeves over her hands like when she was a little girl and felt uneasy. “We’re good.” Grace agreed. Carmy brought her into a lazy hug and kissed the top of her head. “I love you, always.” Grace smiled and hugged Carmy back, “I love you too, Dad.”

As the two went inside, Carmy remembered something she’d said, “Who’s Danny?” Grace stopped and looked up at Carmy cautiously. “Uh… he’s my- my boyfriend…”

[scratchtovoid]

“Make it a son for a son”

There’s a new season two promo where we hear Matt saying Daemon’s infamous line for the first time. And it has me wanting to bring up something I see with the team black fandom.

(BOOK SPOILERS)

There’s an impulse within team black to distance the characters of team black but particularly Rhaenyra from B&C by presenting it as a rogue act committed by Daemon on his own.

Now, first the book does not tell us that. The book gives us little to go on beyond Daemon’s involvement and the obvious implication that Mysaria was his KL contact to set everything in motion.

The rest of the details are mostly speculation.

Rhaenyra’s involvement is limited to a letter from her husband promising that Luke would be avenged. We have no further details on what she knew or how she reacted. Which also gives the show lots of room to present Rhaenyra’s feelings about this revenge plot however they like.

But what I see often in this attempt to isolate B&C to a Daemon-plan not a team black plan, is a misunderstanding of Daemon as a character.

In a bid to defend Rhaenyra’s innocence in the act, Daemon can not just be the lone perpetrator, he is also the monster.

Except this is an intensely human act.

A personal attack.

He could have killed all of Aegon’s heirs in that moment. As well as TG’s two queens. That would be the political move. Taking out the other side purely for political gain regardless of the innocence of the children he attacked.

And this is where those arguments from even within team black fall flat to me.

Because this is not political. This is personal. This is a grieving parent and husband who has no control and could not prevent the initial attacks on his family.

It’s not only rage and revenge, it’s grief and guilt.

So when team black talks about this event and may even lean into the interpretation of Daemon being a monster. It actually takes away from the greater story of team black, part of what makes them unique in contrast to the greens.

The greens, and this looks to continue based on the promo which seems to suggest Otto wanting to use Jaehaerys’s funeral as a propaganda tool, are very politically driven.

Think about it, they’re acting on tradition, purposely wishing to limit the power of women. They use rumors at court as a weapon, look for deals to be made, deck their king out in symbols of legitimacy. They always have a political angle to the moves they make.

This does not mean they do not feel emotional! I’m not saying that. But team green always has this internal conflict of making the political move at the cost of the emotional gain.

And team black (but particularly Daemon) are the opposite. They will make politically bad moves to satisfy the emotional urge.

Look at Rhaenyra marrying Daemon in secret, yes there is a political angle, but ultimately that marriage was one for love. Or Rhaenyra imprisoning Coryls after turning on the dragonseeds.

And with B&C there is no political advantage! They gain nothing in terms of good will with the public or lords of the realm. They have no eliminated any threats. They actively let threats live!

So what am I getting at here?

I’m not justifying Daemon’s actions. But this is fiction. And sometimes I think it’s good to look at a story for more than just “right” and “wrong” or moral lessons.

I think GRRM asks such interesting character questions in the Dance.

What does it mean to do something in an act of pain that is clearly going to be detrimental to the other side?

What does it say about a person to do that?

I think team black specifically should be asking questions like that.

[thereaperisabitch]

My Joel Miller fics recs from 2023

I’ve planned to do this since before Christmas, but life caught me up, so that's why I'm here rushing to finishing this before the reveillon party. 2023 was a very tough year for me, in different ways, and this stories were my refuge and my balm during good times and bad times, so this was the way I found to honor all these incredible authors who made my life better this year.

To the authors: you guys are the most amazing and sweet people ever, I know that I'm not active as other readers and I don't reblog your works enough - and I'm sorry for that, I wish I could shower you with the praises you guys deserve.

Hope this will make up for all the comments and reblogs that I haven't give.

And to the readers who find this recs: most of these stories are series and most of them has age gap and are Joel Miller x fem/afab!reader. I won't put warnings from each fic because it would be a too long post, so click the link and read the author's warnings in each before you start to read - I'm afraid to get into fandoms because of people who give shit to authors, so please, don't be this kind of person.

Someday I'll make a part 2 of other stories that caught me up this year.

That all being said, thank you @morning-star-joy @hier--soir @frannyzooey @joelsgreys @fuckyeahdindjarin @the-ginger-hedge-witch @eupheme @bageldaddy @covetyou @theidiotwhowritesthings @atinylittlepain @imtryingmybeskar @ezrasbirdie

A stranger's heart without a home (complete)

Summary: A one night stand that later becomes a secret affair – or masterpiece of literature – all the poets and great writers ran so Doni could walk.

This is my favorite fic of all times, forever! I read and re-read it so much that I can’t even count how many times I’ve had read it, it’s my 100% comfort fic. Enemies to lovers is my favorite trope, and the way @morning-star-joy developed here it’s perfection in the most pure way.

It’s Joel on his Jackson era and it’s a perfect character development from both sides, how to people who prefer to deal things on their own learn to rely on someone else.

I also highly recommend But you know the killer doesn't understand, which it’s on-going Joel x fem! Reader also post-Outbreak in Jackson, but it’s different and addicting as ASHWAH.

A Lover’s Pinch (on-going)

Summary: a one night stand (do I have a pattern?) at the bar turns to be so much more when you discover that your fling it’s your professor at university.

The professor x student trope might be cliché for some, and by the very brief summary that I wrote above may sound like Pretty Little Liars, but @hier--soir works with those elements and creates something beyond amazing, it is like contemplate a work of art at a museum, but much better.

I’m very much obsessed with this story, that’s why I reread it with more and more frequency.

Can’t even mention the references in this story – it’s truly enriching, it makes all better, truly.

Plus: the playlist it’s amazing!!!!

Short Days, Long Nights (on-going)

Summary: Remnants of a band travelers, you and Joel find a cabin in the woods - what would be the problem with staying?

I’m crazy about this one, it’s my true love and it had 3 or 4 chapters when I started and now we’re heading to chapter 17, blessed be @frannyzooey for sustaining us with this preciosity for so long.

I'm a sucker for when there's one character (Joel) reluctant for his feelings, and if the story was only about this, I would be perfectly glad too with, too. BUT Kelli it's a genius, an amazing writer, giving me all that I didn't even knew I wanted.

It's fluff, with smut from the highest quality - with some tense moments, wich turns everything more addicting.

A Safe Haven (on-going)

Summary: Joel's quickly drawn to the vet of Jackson - even knowing she's married. Will this affair thrive? Or there's more underneath of the vet's story? (Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry for this lame summary, but I refuse to copy from your masterlist and I’m also rushing to finishing this rec today).

I was bought on the infidelity trope and the drama that comes with it. It would still be a nice story, but @joelsgreys it’s so much fucking talented that she wrote the most beautiful thing ever!

It has tooth roting fluff, drenching panties smut and heartstopping angst! All perfectly written and balanced.

I also love how Ellie it's also a crucial character for the couple's history and I really adore how she's attached to Peach.

Special mention to Fall Into Temptation and Strawberry, that lived rent free in my mind since I've read those.

Seams (on-going)

Summary: Joel pays visit to Jackson's seamstress after a trouble with his too-tight jeans – and it's only heaven from that on, won't say more.

Now I call @fuckyeahdindjarin ✨Queen of the Build Up✨ and that's because the way Cee builds up the sexual tension between characters it's undescribable.

Cee is such an excellent writer, not only in Seams but on other stories too she's gives a rich description of details that makes the reading flow better, it's like knowing you looking at gem stone.

Breakout (complete)

Summary: Boxer!Joel AU when he has to train a fuckboy who happens to date a sweet little thing.

Well I'm a fan from @the-ginger-hedge-witch for a while, she wrote one of the best Javier Peña fics ever (which turned into a book and that's fucking A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!!!) and other amazing stories, but this one got me hooked so bad.

Clearly I have a pattern because I LOVE when there is an obstacle for the characters to stay together, in this case, a relationship (I already spoiled that her boyfriend sucks, but I don't think it's spoils the story development) and Ren just atests she's a wonderful writer - now book writer, blessed be her 🙏🏻

And the idea of Joel using his fists it's already apealing, am I right?

I also recommend Friendly Fire, that I love just for knowing that in this, Ren envisioned an Aries character for reader - but also the premise of the story is great, too.

In The Woods Somewhere (complete)

Summary: living alone in a cabin at the apocalypse gets less dull when a teenager appears with a handsome injured man.

I've read this since a while, but it marked me. @eupheme created such tenderness between the characters - they know he and Ellie can't stay, which makes the affair even more apealling.

I’ll know It when I see it (on-going)

Summary: Joel as a porn star in its golden era who meets Lucky, a rising star in porn - chemestry goes beyond the cameras.

@bageldaddy deserves all the shout out forever because this here it's golden. They're both are porn stars and I could be hot just for this, but of course there's feelings involved - and the way they struggle to fight against these it's what makes this story even more perfect. Shout out to the one shot Sundown, as well, it’s completely wonderful.

Something wretched about this (complete)

Summary: Joel Miller it's a self appointed pharmacist in the QZ, and fucks you when you don't have how to pay for your father's medicine

Whoring yourself for meds sounds bad? In this story it's hot af! It's filthy, each chapter explores different sexual practices and it's THE. BEST. THING. IN. THE. WORLD!!!

@covetyou it's the most blessed being for writing a perfection like this, seriously. I loved every single chapter of this, loved Joel being an asshole and a slut. I can't tell enough how much joy this story has brought me. And lo it's better than Santa, because she provides christmas gifts for the nice and naughty, with Freeze-thaw (smut with fluff) and Baubles (smut with FILTH) - I can't die before I try the balldo, I didn't even knew this, didn't think that this could be possible - but happily it is, and this one shot it's perfect in every aspect.

Take Care of You (on-going)

Summary: Joel it's a sugar daddy in this AU and appears in your life to make all better 👀 He doesn't charges for the sexual part of the arrangement, but he's irresistible - so what will you do?

The ideia of a sugar daddy it's extremely appealing to me because that's all I wanted, you know? Some rich hot guy telling me I don't need to work and paying everything to me - that's living! Okay jk, but I started reading this when things caught up badly at work, so it was a sweet refuge.

@theidiotwhowritesthings it's the perfect writer! It's the perfect slow burn that makes you thirst for more and more!

Apothecary (complete)

Summary: Summary: Joel falls in love with the "witch" from Jackson and it has its perks and struggles.

I LOVE Practical Magic, it's one of my favorites witch movies so to read something inspired on that it's great -but @atinylittlepain it's such a wonderful, talented, amazing writer - so we were all blessed with this masterpiece.

It has fluff, angst, smut - stupid people being scared about what they don't understand and etc. It's very sweet, Joel also doesn't understands about her, but can't help being drawn. And Ellie it's a natural, their relationship here, how they grow to be a family ... it's utterly sweet. Special mention to Only Lovers Left Alive (another movie that I LOVE),  The Heyloft and the masterpiece Down to The Ankles (it's perfection and it's inspired in Bones and All, other film that I truly love).

Come home (on-going)

Summary: when you've lost everything and everyone, you reach to Jackson - and meets a ruggedly handsome who you can't help being drawn to.

I've read this for a while, as well, but I still think about this story often. It's a slow burn - which I love (in case you haven't noticed from the stories listed above) - and it's so sweet, the blossom of a friendship that turns to more, their relationship with Ellie ... It's been a while since it was uptaded and I hope @imtryingmybeskar it's okay, because this story it's lovely and I really wish to see and ending for them.

Catalyst

I'm gonna just summarize that it's a threesome with Joel and Frankie Morales from Triple Frontier, that's it - if that ain't reason enough for you to read, idk man.

I didn't even knew that I wanted it, that I needed it - until I read it. I find threesomes hot af, but I don't tend to enjoy when it's with characters that I love too deeply - don't ask me why - but in THIS ONE, GOD FUCKING DAAAAAMN!

It has filth, of course, but there's also fluff - which I find inevitable when it's about Frankie. In the chapter Here, especially, @ezrasbirdie builds perfectly of the struggles that I imagine for a threeway relationship, reading it was sad, hot and lovely.

Hope all the links work, 'cause I don't have time to check now 🙃

Sorry if my comments felt weird, if I forgot to mention something, as I've said above, I intend to make a part 2 of recs someday soon (hopefully).

I wish everyone a happy new year 🎆🥂🎇

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Safest Place is With an Angel

Requested Here!

Pairing: bodyguard!Deacon Kay x fem!singer!reader

Summary: The bodyguard you never wanted quickly gives a new meaning to the City of Angels. After he saves you and helps you sing again, all of your fears disappear in his safety.

Warnings: quick seduction joke (clean as always, guaranteed), angst, fights, brief depiction of injuries, threats, (poorly) attempted abduction, banter, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 4.2k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Buck!” Hondo yells from the ring. “Good to see you man!”

“Hey, old timer,” Luca adds. “How’s it going?”

“Good, good,” Buck answers, looking around. “Where’s Deacon?”

“Choosing favorites again?” Street inquires.

“Something like that,” Buck replies. “Where is he?”

“Locker room,” Street says.

Buck nods once in thanks then walks away to find Deacon. The rest of 20 David Squad watches him go, then quietly debates why he needs to see Deacon. They quickly decide that it’s either a security business thing or an intervention, which they are offended to be excluded from.

“Sergeant Kay,” Buck greets as he enters the locker room.

“Buck Spivey,” Deacon answers with a smile. “Did I miss a meeting?”

“No- well, not exactly. We had a potential client drop by unexpectedly. He’s looking for an executive protection agent for-“

“A bodyguard?” Deacon clarifies.

“Yes, Deacon, a bodyguard. He’s a music producer and one of his new artists is coming out to LA for a few days to record an EP - whatever that is. She needs protection, and, we’ll just say he liked the appeal of an active-duty police officer on our staff.”

“And you want me to take time off of SWAT to be a bodyguard for a few days?”

“For $50,000, yes.”

Deacon’s eyes widen when he hears the amount. He won’t see all of that, obviously, but it would more than cover his time off work.

“Buck, tell me straight, why me? None of the ‘he’s a cop’ stuff,” Deacon requests.

“She’s a singer, Deac. Not all of our men can be trusted one-on-one with a woman like that.”

“You’re picking me because I’m older and less likely to seduce her?”

“Or be seduced,” Buck adds, playfully agreeing.

“Fine, yeah,” Deacon agrees with a smile. “Let me run it past Hicks.”

“I already did that.”

“Buck,” Deacon sighs.

“I know you, Deac, so I just got a head start for you. You’re welcome. See you in the office!”

“Thanks, Buck.”

After Buck leaves, Deacon sits on the bench in the locker room. Fifty grand, he thinks, she must be a good singer.

“What was that about?” Street asks as he barges into the locker room.

“I’m taking a few days off to do an assignment from Buck,” Deacon answers.

“It wasn’t an intervention?” Luca inquires.

“For what?” Deacon questions.

“What’s the assignment? Private security instead of public?” Hondo jokes.

“Executive protection,” Deacon says.

“You’re a bodyguard?” Street exclaims. “That’s awesome!”

“For whom?” Hondo asks.

“I can’t answer that.”

“I knew we needed an intervention,” Luca sighs.

“Good morning. I’m Buck Spivey, and this is David Kay, your personal executive protection agent during your time in Los Angeles,” Buck presents. He turns to Deacon to introduce you as well.

As you shake hands with the man who insists you call him Deacon, you wish you were going to be in LA for longer. He’s incredibly handsome, and you could practically fall into his deep brown eyes. He’s the kind of guy you write songs about, not hide behind.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, smiling as you reclaim your hand from Deacon’s warm one.

“You, too.”

“I’m going to go over everything with Mr. Spivey, but Deacon has your schedule. I’ll see you at the studio, listen, not a moment before you’re scheduled,” your producer, Alex, says. “Thanks again, gentlemen.”

Deacon smiles and nods at Alex as he follows Buck out. You watch them leave, then drop your shoulders and shake your head.

“This probably isn’t your ideal job,” you begin, “but thank you, seriously.”

“Of course. Your schedule for today is pretty open, so where to first?”

“That’s the other thing. I know that Alex hired you to stay with me every waking moment, but no one knows who I am, so feel free to come and go as you want. You’ll still get paid the same.”

Deacon’s brows furrow as you speak. Buck made it seem like you were a big deal and the album you came to record was already getting massive attention. Your willingness to go out alone into, in Deacon’s opinion, one of the most dangerous cities in the US is unexpected.

“Look, it’s my job, and I do enjoy it, so I’m going to go where you go,” Deacon explains.

“Is that necessary?”

“It is. Not just because your producer paid for it, but because your safety is my top priority this week.”

“Fine,” you agree. “I wanted to go sightseeing today, but I have no idea where to start.”

“Then it’s a good thing you have a bodyguard who knows every inch of this city,” Deacon replies. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah,” you mumble as you follow him. “Great.”

Standing on an overlook off Mulholland Drive, you feel invisible and weightless. It’s the best you’ve felt in months. You close your eyes before you take in the view again. Standing behind you, Deacon surveys the area for potential threats, but his eyes keep returning to you. Something is going on, more than you simply not wanting a bodyguard.

“You were right,” you cheer as you return to him. “It’s way prettier up here. Where are you taking me next?”

“Um, look,” Deacon begins. “I know I’m only here for you in a professional capacity, but if you need anything, I’m here for you.”

Your phone buzzes before you can reply to Deacon’s offer. It’s probably for the best because you don’t want to acknowledge that there is more going on than what you let him see. The message from Alex is short, but you groan regardless. Deacon receives a text, too, and you know lying to him is not an option.

“There’s an event for songwriters at the Walt Disney Concert Hall tonight,” you tell him. “Alex wants me to go.”

“You don’t want to?” Deacon reads into your phrasing.

“It’s not that, just… I thought I’d get a break and get to do what I want instead of what Alex thinks I need to do. He’s a great producer and he’s one of the nicest guys in the business, but I think he forgets that we’re human too sometimes.”

“Then don’t go.”

You laugh and reply, “Yeah, that would go well. It’s fine. I need to go back to my hotel and get ready.”

Deacon waits a moment before he nods and gestures for you to walk before him. Most other men would make you feel uncomfortable, out of sight at your back, but you feel safer than ever with Deacon Kay with you.

Deacon raises his hand before your waist as you enter the hotel lobby. You bump into him as you stop, and he looks around before he murmurs for you to go.

“You seem on edge,” you muse as you board the elevator.

Deacon shakes his head and apologizes to someone else trying to get on. When the door closes on just the two of you, he sighs.

“I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I’m a cop, a SWAT officer, and I guess maybe that gives me a sixth sense,” he says.

“And?” you press.

“Something feels off.”

“It’s probably just the schedule change.”

Deacon glances at you from the corner of his eye. You’re different, another in a series of sudden shifts has altered your behavior. At the office, you didn’t want Deacon to come with you, then you were open to sightseeing with him, and now you seem annoyed by his presence again.

“Wait,” he instructs as the elevator door opens.

He looks up and down the hallway, then holds the door for you to exit. When you reach your room door, he takes your key from your hand.

“What are you doing?” you ask shortly.

“I need to clear the room,” Deacon answers simply.

“Deacon, there’s no one in my hotel room. I think you’re overthinking the ‘bodyguard’ thing. You don’t have to go everywhere with me!”

“I’m not letting you walk into a room when I don’t know what’s waiting behind the door,” he argues.

“It’s a locked hotel room! Do you need to sit beside the tub while I shower, too?”

“Just let me go in, make sure it’s safe, and then I’ll come back out.”

You reluctantly hand the keycard to Deacon, and your body language is enough to tell him you are not pleased with this arrangement. When you cross your arms tightly and straighten your shoulders, Deacon assumes that you’re not worried about having left clothes on the bed or anything, but a deeper problem with having him so close.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises.

You blow a breath out of your nose in response, and Deacon reminds himself not to look at your face for too long. Buck had said you were pretty, but that did no justice to your beauty. Even when you’re annoyed by him, Deacon can’t help but be enraptured by every piece of you.

He slides the card into the door handle and then pushes the door open carefully. As it closes behind him, you drop your arms and lean against the hallway wall. A sudden noise makes you stand up straight again, and the following crash sends your heart to your stomach.

“Deacon!” you yell as you bang the side of your fist against the door.

Something breaks inside and the shattering echoes down the hall. With each sound, you become more desperate to get inside and ensure Deacon is okay. You have nothing against him, in fact, you’re actively trying not to write a song about him. He has to be okay.

“Deacon!” you yell again as someone grunts.

“Move!” Deacon demands.

You assume he’s talking to the person inside, but you step out of the doorway, regardless. The door opens quickly and as someone is shoved out harshly, you’re pulled inside. Deacon pushes you toward the bed as he locks the door and secures the deadbolt. He doesn’t look toward you as he pulls his phone from his pocket and begins typing quickly.

“Deacon,” you whisper as you stand. He doesn’t answer, and you continue walking to him. When you’re directly before him, you push his phone down and look at his face.

“I need to tell Alex,” he chides.

“You’re hurt.”

Deacon freezes when your fingers brush his jawline. Slowly, he drags his eyes from his phone to your face. The concern is evident in your eyes, and as they grow wet, Deacon can’t decide whether to push you away and keep working or wipe your tears away with kisses. He startles slightly at the idea; it’s completely unprofessional, but now that he’s thought of kissing you, he can’t stop.

“Uh, can you…” You exhale to keep yourself from rambling before you ask, “Can you sit down? Please.”

Deacon nods and moves to the foot of the bed. He presses send on the message to Buck, then sets his phone aside and waits for you. You return quickly with a wet cloth and a small first aid kit.

“I never travel without one,” you explain when you see Deacon’s eyes on it.

You press the cloth to his face, and Deacon doesn’t flinch. You're gentle and slow, but even if you weren’t, Deacon doesn’t think he could focus on anything other than you right now.

“You’re an idiot,” you say, pulling him from his admiration of you.

“What?”

“Why did you do that? You could have gotten killed!”

You turn to get a bandage, and your breathing changes suddenly.

“I helped you!” Deacon defends. When your face is squared with his again, his voice drops. “Whoa, are you… you’re crying.”

“I didn’t know what was happening in here. Don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry,” Deacon offers this time. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

You purse your lips as you place a flimsy blue bandage on Deacon’s hand. He knows it won’t stay on his knuckles, but he’ll stop moving if it will help you feel better and keep you beside him longer.

“I know it’s your job, but I’ve never had anyone protect me like that before, so, thanks,” you add.

“It is my job, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad for upsetting you. Like I said before, I’m here for anything you need.”

“You’ll be with me all night?” you clarify.

“As close as you want me.”

Deacon changed into a suit after he saw the dress you prepared to wear to the concert hall. He may be there for you and you alone, but that doesn’t mean he has to look like a bodyguard. You certainly didn’t argue once you saw how the well-tailored jacket fit across his muscular back and the deep blue drew even more attention to his eyes.

“I’m nervous,” you admit. “I know I’ve been pushing you away all day, but it wasn’t because of you, Deacon.”

“We don’t have to do this right now. I get it,” Deacon says.

“Maybe you are the break I was looking for,” you say softly, more to yourself than Deacon.

“Take it slow,” he encourages. “We’ll leave whenever you’re ready.”

You nod, but your eyes are constantly moving. You’re still unsettled after the run-in at the hotel, but there’s nothing more Deacon can do. Not in the public eye, at least. His words will have to get you through for now.

“There she is!” Alex cheers when he sees you.

The woman on his arm scoffs and mumbles, “Not much to her, is there?”

“What’s your number one?” another guest asks.

“Oh, I haven’t released any original songs yet,” you answer softly. “I’ve been writing and I’m here to record-“

“Alex,” the woman on his arm drawls. “You rejected my proposed artist for a no name? What drew you in, her pretty face?”

“Her songs,” Alex answers firmly. He may not give you the freedom you desire, but he also knows your worth and refuses to let anyone talk down to you. “Your proposed artist sounded like an Adele wannabe who got her finger pinched in the mic stand.”

Deacon stifles a laugh behind you, but you’re only growing more uncomfortable by the minute.

“Maybe I should just go,” you tell Alex.

“I agree,” another woman calls.

“Absolutely not,” Alex answers, freeing himself from the women around him. “You’re here as a songwriter. Let’s get away from these people living vicariously through their stars.”

Alex leads you further into the venue, but you watch over your shoulder to ensure Deacon is still with you. He nods in reassurance as he follows, his eyes on the move to spot anything before it can become another threat.

“Buck told me about the incident in the hotel,” Alex says. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you answer.

“What incident?” Serena, one of Alex’s other artists, asks. “Babe, are you alright?”

“Just shaken up,” you admit.

You look back at Deacon again, but his attention is on the stage.

“Wait, so what happened?” Serena whispers to you.

“There was a guy in my hotel room. Deacon took care of it.”

“Deacon? You mean that jaw-droppingly gorgeous man who hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you walked in? Babe, you’re on a first-name basis with your bodyguard.”

“Watching me is his job,” you deflect.

“Serena, sorry to interrupt,” Alex says. “There’s someone here who’d like to meet you.”

“Tell me everything later,” she whispers as she’s pulled away.

Alone again, you take a deep breath and rest your hands on the back of your chair. Deacon steps closer to the table before he pauses.

“Please,” you say.

He closes the distance and stands beside you, close enough to touch if you were as open with physically showing your feelings as you are bearing them for all to hear in song lyrics.

“Excuse me, my name is Rydell. I’m Alex’s biggest competitor,” a man introduces before he laughs. It sounds forced, and you find yourself stepping closer to Deacon. “You must be Alex’s newest client, the one he was so excited to show off.”

Deacon moves his arm so he can feel you behind him as he replies, “Actually, I’m-“

“No, no, please don’t try to undersell yourself. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ve got a private suite back at the Ritz. We’ll head there, order some champagne, and maybe you could give me a private performance of your new songs.”

“Sir,” Deacon begins again.

“Oh, and Alex doesn’t need to know a thing about it. I’ll have you back by morning.”

Deacon’s brows raise as he asks, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Deacon,” you murmur.

“Rydell, is it? I have to applaud your effort, however sleazy it may be, but you picked the wrong target. I’m not the singer you’re after, I’m her bodyguard.”

Your heart races when Deacon refers to himself as yours. When the man blubbers as he tries to find an acceptable answer about why he wanted to take you away from everyone, you are harshly returned to reality.

“Get out,” Deacon demands.

Rydell nods and scurries away. Your eyes remain on Deacon and the dark look in his eyes that matches his clenched jaw.

“Was he trying to kidnap me?” you ask.

“I can’t be sure,” Deacon answers carefully.

“But you think he was.”

Deacon turns when he hears the strain in your voice.

“I should just go home. Singing has always been my dream but between the guy at the hotel and him hurting you, then this, I can’t-“

Deacon silently takes your hand, and your sentence ends abruptly. He strokes his thumb over the back of your hand as he leads you away from all the people. After he finds a quiet, dimmed hallway, he stops and turns toward you, keeping your hand safely in his.

“Take a few deep breaths,” he instructs. “I’ve got you.”

“How am I supposed to keep doing this? I haven’t even released anything and already people are doing crazy things,” you express.

“Well, the women at the door felt threatened. Rydell was misinformed about how strong and independent you are, and the man at the hotel was just an idiot trying to do something stupid.”

“But what happens when there’s more of them?” you whisper. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“You can. You can,” he repeats. “I’m right here to keep you safe.”

“And when you’re not?”

Deacon nods; he understands what uncertainty and fear are like. There’s no easy way to answer your question, but he can help you feel safe for the rest of the night and the remainder of your time in Los Angeles. No matter what it takes.

Standing in the recording booth, you freeze behind the microphone. Singing is an emotional experience, an outlet; right now, you only feel nervous and uncertain. Your future relies on this album; if this is the future, you aren’t sure you want it.

“Let me go in,” someone says faintly through the speaker above you.

Several people are waiting in the sound booth beside you. Alex, the audio tech, Deacon, and two of your best friends and fellow singers. You’ve forgotten about them easily, so you know this isn’t stage fright.

Someone knocks on the door, and you look up from your lyrics as Deacon steps inside.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

You look toward the one-way glass, worried about expressing something you shouldn’t in front of your friends and colleagues.

“They’re gone,” Deacon assures. “I asked for some privacy, thought you could use it.”

“Thank you,” you reply. “I just- everything is a mess, and I don’t know where to start.”

“I heard the music while the tech guy was setting everything up. It’s really good.”

“I appreciate that. Lyrics come pretty easily, but finding the music to express the same stuff as the words is harder.”

“Yet the best artists make it look easy. Like you.”

You suddenly remember something. While you showered this morning, you asked Deacon to sit in your hotel room. Through the thin walls of the bathroom, you heard him humming. Deacon can sing.

“Would you… Will you sing with me? Just to help me get started, I mean,” you ask softly.

Deacon smiles as he happily says, “Of course.”

You step to the side so Deacon can stand beside you and see the sheet music with the lyrics printed on it. It’s not your preferred method of recording, but right now, you’re glad to have it. After you press play on the computer beside you, music fills the room, and you and Deacon begin singing together. He’s better than you anticipated after hearing his humming, and he smiles brightly during your performance of the bridge. You fail to remember what life was like without Deacon. Not that you’d want to.

The music fades and you throw your arms around Deacon’s neck to hug him tightly. He chuckles as he returns the hug, his arms tight around your waist as he tucks his chin against your shoulder.

“You’re amazing,” he applauds.

“Me? I should sign my record deal over to you!” you argue. “You sound like an angel! You are an angel, aren't you, Deacon?”

“Please don’t trade yourself in without my permission,” Alex says through the mic system.

“Alex,” Deacon groans.

“You asked for two minutes, Sergeant. I gave you two minutes. Besides, if I hadn’t come back, we wouldn’t have that performance recorded.”

“I think I’m ready,” you interrupt. “But can I do track 8 next?”

“Anything you want,” Alex answers. “And thanks again, Deacon.”

“For what?” you ask, speaking to Deacon rather than Alex.

“His contract is over. He didn’t have to come with you today,” Alex says.

“Why?” you ask Deacon.

He steps away from the microphone and brushes his fingers along your arm as he whispers, “I didn’t want to walk away yet.”

You lift your eyes to Deacon’s and smile in the proximity. He taps a knuckle against your hip, and you glance down as he makes a phone signal with his hands.

“I do have to get to work,” he says. “But I’ll be watching for that album.”

“Thank you, Deacon, for everything.”

Deacon winks before he exits the studio. You breathe out through your newfound permanent smile and flip to a page of scribbles.

“Does he know?” Alex asks. “That the album only had seven songs before you met him?”

“I think he will,” you answer. “Let’s go.”

“Oh my gosh!” Chris yells. “Am I fangirling? Is this what it feels like?”

“What are you talking about?” Luca inquires.

She points excitedly and explains, “She has the best cover of my favorite song I’ve ever heard. Why do you think she’s here? Would it be wrong to ask for an autograph?”

“Just ask Deac,” Street says from inside the situation room.

Chris, Luca, and Hondo turn to face him, and he sighs as if being the smartest guy in the room is exhausting him daily.

“Ask Deac what?” Chris asks.

“To introduce you. He’s been listening to her music nonstop.”

“He listens to covers?”

“When he’s in love with the girl that sings them, yeah. Am I the only one who pays any attention around here?”

“Easy,” Hondo warns. “What aren’t you saying?”

“Connect the dots, Hondo. He leaves to be a bodyguard, and comes back all soft and sappy, listening to cover songs every minute he can. She was the body to be guarded, and David Kay liked what he saw.”

“What did I see to like?” Deacon asks as he enters.

Chris wordlessly points to you, and Deacon’s eyes light up as he rushes through the situation room to reach you.

“Well, Street was right,” Hondo muses. “For once.”

“Whatever, old man,” Street grumbles.

“You’re here!” Deacon calls. “Why are you here?”

You smile as you reach up and hug him. “I, um, I couldn’t leave.”

“But I thought-“

“That I had excessive doubts about staying in LA and being a singer?” you finish for him. “I did. But then this great, really attractive bodyguard held my hand and told me everything would be okay.”

“And you believed him?”

“If you could see his eyes, you’d understand that I had no other choice but to fall for him.”

“Oh,” Deacon replies. “So…”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” you and Deacon ask simultaneously.

“I think that translates to yes, from both parties,” Street says as he walks by with a tablet.

“Who is that?” you ask Deacon.

“A fan in the making,” he answers. “Speaking of which, my teammate Chris wants an autograph. Are you sure LA is the right choice?”

“There’s only a few months until the album releases, so the back and forth wasn’t worth it. Plus, that bodyguard I mentioned kinda lives here.”

“Well then,” Deacon murmurs, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you against his chest. “Let’s make sure LA’s prettiest, best-voiced resident feels safe.”

“I’m not trained to do that for you,” you joke.

“Just keep that cute little band-aid kit around and I’ll handle the rest.”

“Don’t get hurt for me again,” you warn. “Because I can’t-“

Deacon cuts you off with a kiss, and you melt against him as your fingers brush across his jawline.

“You can’t what?” Deacon asks against your lips.

“Just kiss me,” you answer, though your voice is muffled against him. “I’m safe right here.”

“Deacon!” Chris yells when you pull back. “Did you ask about the autograph?”

[sinvilles]

additional thoughts: why cancelling the show actually did Orel's character so so so dirty

disclaimer again: I'm unconcerned about redemption because I'm not a fuckin lutheran. I'm a writer and I like sociological stories and seeing characters achieve wholeness within narrative. moral orel is a unique case because the story was cut short halfway through, and all character arcs were arrested at their lowest point in the narrative, except for some characters on the side who were just kind of beginning to shine.

The gist of the matter is that Moral Orel was cancelled because the executive producer's favorite character was supposed to grow up and he had a problem with that not being very funny. Orel was supposed to go from a naive and well-meaning albeit trouble-making child to a very mature and thoughtful young teenager. The beginnings of this were in Nature, and the way people respond to that you'd think this was the point of his character arc, that the end of it was just him realizing his dad wasn't shit and that's the conclusion of his story. That was just the start.

Orel was supposed to experience profound loss for the first time. He was supposed to grow more open minded and perceptive and thoughtful, and actively question his small world and what was being fed to him. Orel was going to have a crisis of faith. HE WAS GOING TO HAVE AN EMO PHASE. There was a lot that was going to occur for his character, but it was cut short and so when they put that happy ending in the finale it feels more like aftercare after a deeply bleak and unsettling turn of events. Just because you get aftercare from a story that only resolves issues to a halfway point, doesn't make a proper ending. The narrative, the writers, the audience have emotional investment in these characters.

Sure, we joke that we hate the characters and that they deserve their misery- and where the story ended, they deserved their misery. It didn't have to be that way. These characters are well written enough to hate, to love, to consider and reconsider over and over. Secretly we all wanted them to grow- even Clay, a character so damaged and ruined he seems bereft of any of god's mercy.

But this assumption that Orel had a full character arc- its insulting to him. Especially the jump to "and then miraculously he had a happy family with Christina the end." Characters become whole through their struggles, because through it they reach a sense of understanding. Orel had come to a couple of understandings by season three- God isn't just in church, and his father is a flawed and hurt individual. Then what? does he just repress everything and go about his life? Hating his father and opposing him was the start of a new arc, not the end of his story. Fuck man, it makes him seem immature.

I mean, if its the end of anything it feels like the end of his innocence, not his story. In one of the unmade scripts, Narcissism, there's this confession to Putty:

shit man he's worried about his dad getting sadder? This child is so beautiful and pure, fuck man I wish the fandom remembered him like this and not like the bleak combined ending of Nesting and Honor. 13 is such an unlucky number. they should have stopped at Sacrifice. and also:

YES OREL, REPRESSION IS BAD! You're doing so good baby boy

Beforel Orel was a fun excursion, and it brought a new angle to his (very strongly hinted to be neurodivergent) character. but it mostly told us things we already knew. and the thought that we'll never get any more.... shit hurts. Idk I don't have much to say other than I'm sad. in conclusion

[sad-scarred-sassy]

tamlin “trapped” feyre after all negotiations broke down with the certainty of knowing feyre would endanger herself and others temporarily

from the wu this fandom talks about it you’d think he’s mother gothel but like. it was only until he came back. it wasn’t like he had her isolated, restricting access to who got to see her. he offered to invite her sisters - she was the one who said no! i really don’t see how it’s comparable to feyre + the ic making nesta stay on a remote island for what it’s worth with two near strangers who she has little to no positive associations with if they can’t be considered the cause of all her trauma in the first place (in that they are fae etc)

whereas nesta’s sentence (bc let’s face it she was sent to azkaban as punishment with a fun caveat like “you’re free if you can cross the sea! and manage to maintain a sense of identity while around guards who remind you how terrible you are of course!”) is indefinite and it’s pretty obvious from everything that comes after that it’s just something she’s expected to make the best of as opposed to something that can get better with time.

and cassian being her jailer whose amicability she has to earn by performing rigorous physical activity she had no interest in even if she grew to love it.. i wonder if she’s had that experience before

sorry, i’m not disagreeing with you, i saw your post + i just die a little inside every time someone’s like “ew tampon” “wow i wish i had a cassian” like no. they’re not the same, you (not you, ily) just have the attention span of a gold fish on catnip

You know I restrained myself from posting more on this because I’m such a hater sometimes lol, gotta focus on more positive things sometimes but... I’ll get this out of my chest.

I wanna preface by saying I do not care if people like Cassian/Nessian, truly. I even like fanon Cassian and fanon Nessian. I also have seen very little people that like Cassian bashing Tamlin (probably bc of my filters and just the type of blogs I follow bc I do love them all) BUT☝🏼 what I do see is a lot of “Disclaimer: we know Tamlin is an abuser” on Tamlin neutral posts (when no other character gets that treatment) or using Tamlin as a cautionary tale of how he treated Feyre and then praise the other “mates” for being “the right ones” and treating them correctly or something, which does annoy me a bit, but alas.

In my opinion yes, you are right, what Cassian and the Inner Circle did to Nesta is a million times worse than what Tamlin did to Feyre, but nobody, nobody considers Cassian’s actions in Silver Flames as bad as they actually are. Nobody considers him an abuser like Abusive Tamlin™️. When talking about what Nesta has endured in SF people put all the blame on Rhys and Feyre (which yes of course) but they forget Cassian was also there, willingly.

I’ve seen people use the argument that both Nesta and Cassian treated each other poorly in their relationship, but I have to ask… what did Nesta do to him that’s worse than what he did… intentionally. She was mean to him and called him bastard like four times? And only when he trespassed her boundaries. Somehow this is comparable to him being her jailer, taking her to train in the middle of Illyria, being a dick when he knew she was struggling, telling her everyone hates her and he cannot understand why her sisters love her, controlling her food intake as if she’s a gym bro or something when she clearly had an eating disorder, not telling her that Feyre was not mad at her and letting her BREAK while making her carry a huge backpack and forcing her on a hike not talking to her for days, to the point she fainted and fell on her face near a cliff?? (this because she made Rhys mad). Anyway the list goes on.

And you know what I don’t care if people like this guy after all this, but it is just funny how somehow Neris shippers are the “morally dubious” ones lol (and don’t get me started on Tamlin stans aka the devil worshippers), because Nesta said she “deserved Eris” (as a punishment), babygirl your WHOLE relationship with Cassian has been a punishment, for what sins you ask? Being mean (as she should) and spending the High Lord’s coin.

And what makes it worse is that the narrative will always favor the Inner circle, Cassian will never pay for what he’s done the way Tamlin has (and still is) he will never even apologize because he was “holding out his hand” or whatever bs that was. (Honestly if I get proven wrong and he does pay and apologize then I may give him a chance, but I highly doubt it)

I won’t even pretend that I think Neris will be canon as much as I wish it was, even if I know that if SJM wrote it, it still would have had its problems but at least Nesta wouldn’t have ended up with the people who treated her like a criminal just because she wouldn’t kiss their ass. And on top of all, with a mate that doesn’t even have the balls to stand up for her. Holy shit.

Okay I got it all out of my chest I think, I’ll try not to hate so much but this shit bro makes me seethe. I’ll go touch some grass.

[the-uninformed-zennial]

So, uh, Fable ended.

And now I’m gonna be sappy on main.

I started watching Fable about half a year before I started being active in the fandom, around the time I started falling in love with my partner @hoardingpuffin . Watching Rae and Caspian’s relationship develop was actually part of what helped me realize that the things I was feeling for them were romantic and not just platonic. Surprisingly enough, that’s just the beginning of the profound effect Fable had on me.

I had never really interacted with fandom spaces before Fable. But when I caught up with lore sometime in November 2022, I decided to join the discord. It was a crazy place. Being someone who’d never really been in a server before I was completely overwhelmed and nervous, so I didn’t interact much for the first month or so.

Then I discovered that, despite the incredible love for the project, no one had made a “which character are you?” Quiz yet, so, I decided to fuck it and make one myself. The response I got to that was unlike any I had seen before. I was getting pinged weeks afterwards with people’s results and it made me really happy to see how much my work was appreciated by everyone in the community. It got me thinking about other ways I might be able to give back.

Then, as you all know, the stream “Call” and it’s partner “Response” came out on Ghosty and HeyHay’s channels. I’d been feeling so similarly to the two characters, dealing with my long distance relationship with Puffin. So, I took those feelings and the words Heyhay and Ghosty had used to convey them for their characters and put them into a song.

And then something insane happened.

Everyone liked it. Like, everyone liked it. This crappy recording I made at 2 AM suddenly got hundreds and then thousands of views when I put it on SoundCloud and YouTube. It was insane. I had written some songs before, but they’d always been ridiculed, so having a large group of people like the fable community enjoy something that I wrote was absolutely insane to me, and it encouraged me to make more.

I found myself being inspired by the characters in fable, connecting with different storylines or sentences said on streams. I found myself writing songs, one after another after another.  At one point I was writing a song a week for a period of about three months. I had never experienced this amount of raw creativity before, but every time I put a new song out, I only got encouraged to make more.

And then people started to ask me when I was going to put them on Spotify. And that was another moment that everything changed. I realized if I was gonna put these out there in such an official way I didn’t want it to just be a bunch of crappy recorded singles. So I needed to make an album.

That was something I had never considered doing before. I knew nothing about music editing or sound mixing. Up until that point all of my songs had been made on GarageBand at 2 AM with very little editing or mixing going into them. So, I started saving for a real music editing program and within a few months I got there.

Then came the actual making of the album. I took a few months off in the summer and just dove headfirst into it. Every spare moment I wasn’t modding for the Sherbathon, or the discord, or streaming my own lore, was spent working on those songs. And while looking back now I wish I knew what I know now about music editing, I’m so glad I did what I did. Putting that album out, seeing how you all responded to it… it made me realize that this is something I love, something that I don’t have to wait for someone else’s permission or teaching to do.

This fandom is the reason I’m a musical artist and that is something I don’t think I will ever be able to express the importance of enough.



As much as I could talk about the unending support and encouragement I received from the wonderful cast members throughout my experience making the album, or how being given the role of mod on the fandom discord taught me so much about how to be a creator in my own right, or even the amazing experience I had being able to make songs for the lore. When it comes right down to it, it was the community, cast and all, that impacted my life in the profound way it has been. So thank you, each and every one of you, whether you are a cast member, a fan, a fellow mod, or even just someone who streamed a song you didn’t have any context for. Thank you for changing my life, for giving me the encouragement to pursue my dreams.

Thank you Fable SMP cast, crew, and community 💕

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Calling All Bats

ai-less whumptober 2023 day 26- came back wrong fandom- dp x dc TW- none summary- Jason starts looking for Danny

ao3 ailesswhumptober23 masterlist part 5 of DLM

Danny found himself pleasantly relaxing with this strange liminal. Which he figured was why Gotham had directed him to that apartment. He had been surprised when he reached Gotham’s border and immediately felt the city’s presence. He had never encountered a living city before even though he knew they were possible. He had hesitated at first, not wanting to intrude on what felt like a haunt. But Gotham had assured him with feelings of temporary protection, she couldn’t do much. She was too weak from constantly being surrounded by corrupted ectoplasm from all the disasters. But she could offer temporary asylum and let Danny know when the GIW entered Gotham’s border. 

Of course Danny hadn’t known that Gotham would be sneaky and direct him to a liminal’s apartment. Danny had not expected a liminal to come in, usually he could sense a haunt, but with Gotham as contaminated as she was, he figured the criminal's presence was hidden. It was also probably because Jason’s ectoplasm was also corrupted.

He wished he could have stayed longer in that apartment. He might have even been able to help Jason. But when Gotham whispered to him that the GIW had come, Danny knew he had to leave before the agents found Jason. Hopefully Gotham’s corrupt ectoplasm would help hide Jason. It might even make it more difficult for the agents to track him down as well.

But he couldn’t risk it. He wasn’t sure where he’d go next. At least he had gotten his bandages changed and eaten a few cookies.

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

Jason didn’t know what to do. The kid was just gone.

How was he supposed to look for him? Where even did he go?

And these GIW agents or whatever were clearly after him. Jason wasn’t about to abandon the kid.

Leaving behind his hot chocolate and cookies he walked over to his room and put his uniform back on. 

The kid was like him. They both came back wrong. Jason grimaced. He’d always described himself as coming back wrong, but thinking about the kid like that was wrong. The kid was fine. Who cared if he’d died before. And maybe, Jason wasn’t messed up either? Danny acted like all this was normal. And maybe it was. 

Whatever. Existential thought could wait till after he’d found Danny and beat the GIW to a pulp.

He left through his window and made his way up to the roof. He paused. He wouldn’t be able to search the whole city by himself. 

That meant he’d have to call in reinforcements.

Ugh. What a pain.

He activates his comm. “Hey, Oracle. Anyone out tonight?”

“Hood, I thought you were ending your patrol early today?”

“I did. Then I found something. I need anyone out to help me out with the situation.”

“Red Robin’s out right now, but Nightwing is still suited up if you need him too.”

“Go ahead and patch them both to my comm.”

“Will do.”

A moment later Dick’s voice came through. “What’s up, Hood?”

“I need your help looking for someone.” Jason said, grappling over to the next roof. “Who are you looking for?” Tim asked.

Jason hesitated before answering, “He’s a kid about fourteen or fifteen, he’s some kind of meta. I was talking with him and he just disappeared. But he mentioned he has government agents trying to hunt him down to experiment on him.” 

“What’s he look like?” Dick asked, voice serious.

Jason paused before getting it over with. “He was wearing jeans and had a black hoodie on. And he has black hair and blue eyes.”

There was silence for a moment before Dick started cackling. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know this is serious, but really Little Wing? You’ve found us a new brother?”

“Shut up. We need to start looking for him.”

“Of course.” Dick said, sounding serious, but Jason could tell that the man was still smiling.

“Do you know what agency is after him?” Tim asked.

“A group called the GIW. I don't know anything else.”

“I’ll look into them. I’ve also got my systems looking for any black haired, blue eyed kids.” Babs said.

“We’ll find him, Hood.” Dick said.

Jason hoped so.