#asks are always open still

[eveydeeveyfgc]

[tinyfantasminha]

I don't want to keep clogging my blog with vent posts but uh... I guess this is a more general concern/observation

But it's getting real hard to stay motivated in fandom spaces when there's little compensation, and annoying occurrences are more frequent than good ones.

Mainly there's been less engagement/people showing interest in creators and their art (such as sending asks, making comments and reblogging with tags) and MORE parasocial interactions. This goes for both artists and writers.

Over this year I've noticed a vast disinterest within my public in general. Asks about ocs, my art, or just nice simple comments of ''I love your art'' has been getting more and more scarce. My follower number is bigger than 2-3 years ago sure and I get more likes on my posts but they are feeling more like just numbers and statistics than actual people who supposedly like my stuff.

And while people being parasocial with creators has always been a thing, I feel like it's gotten way worse... in general? People sending personal pictures out of the blue in hopes of being validated, unwanted psychological advice or assumptions about the creator without any established connection first ( <- these happened to me in the same week.) ventdump, just insensitive/lacking of common sense comments in general, unreasonable demands (mostly with writers)... I wondered at first if it was just me, but a handful of mutuals/acquaintances who are artists and writers seems to be going through it as well.

It's annoying. It's tough. It's getting exhausting. Creators pour so much of themselves into their work—countless hours, effort, and passion, all to share something meaningful or entertaining with others (and for FREE) The LEAST anyone can do is show respect, even if opinions differ. When a writer posts a fanfic, don't just say ''omg post next chapter!'', when an artist posts a drawing of their favorite character, don't just say ''omg draw (character) next!'' as if they're faceless content machines that are expected to churn out more '''content''' for you without acknowledgment, encouragement, or appreciation.

''I want to support creators but I don't know what to say and I feel intimidated by their talent so I just lurk silently :((('' I swear to you, no creator (at least not the majority) is making up an intimidating persona to discourage you from interacting with them. They WANT your comments. A single ''I love your art/writing/videos'' or even something as silly as ''I want to eat your art'' is enough to keep a creator sighing dreamily for WEEKS. It doesn't have to be deep! It's heartfelt and that's what it matters!! (Just remember to keep it relevant and thoughtful... It takes just a bit of common sense NOT to comment things like ''this looks like (another character)'' or ''this but with (another unrelated ship/character/show)''. No one wants to hear comparisons or unrelated ideas when they’ve poured their soul into something.)

In fact, the ''I like your art but I think you're intimidating'' feels more hurtful than flattering. It makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong, acting wrong. 💀

If you love that fanfic that changed your brain psyche forever and want to gush about it, go tell the writer. If you loved so much a piece of art that you saved it a million times in your phone and can't stop thinking about it, go tell the artist. Push away the ''they probably won't care about my comment/it won't make a difference'' thoughts. DO IT NOW. You won't know when they might go inactive forever or deactivate. You can't know if that is the last piece they will ever post. Make sure you show appreciation to creators NOW, while they are still here. While they're still not being replaced by AI.

[corrodedparadox]

Just a reminder to please not use my work in collages/edits/etc without asking me first

[tobisaw]

i need uhhhh silly fucker coomed holding bubby over his head with one arm i just think it would be silly yeah thanks

I’ve drawn more sitting poses during my time as a hlvrai fan than I have in my entire life

[phoenix-before-the-flame]

Hiiiiiiiiiiii

[i-like-forcefem]

Hey so uh I wanted to ask about that candy bar you gave me at the Halloween party last night, I ate it before bed (it tasted really good) but when I woke up I started to notice some things. My voice sounds kinda softer and higher pitched than before, my body feels tingly and kinda soft, my hair looks a lot longer and fuller than I remember it being, and every time I look in the mirror I think I look thinner than before...my clothes feel uncomfortable...people have been saying I look and sound cute and every time they compliment me I start blushing...n-not that I'm in any pain, don't worry, it's just...uh...w-where did you get that candy bar from again?

Awwww, well cutie the bars are ones I make by with plenty of love, specially for Halloween and a secret recipe I can’t just share with anyone

But since you seem to enjoy them so much let’s make a little deal!

I’ll let you Trick or Treat everyday! Just come here with a new fun outfit everyday and you’ll never run out of candy bars!

That said the bars work the best if you eat them everyday (and they can have quite some withdrawal symptoms) and I only have you the first bar because your costume was so so adorable and cute and feminine, and just so you know you’ve set the standard now cutie!

If you want more candy bars you better come back in an even cuter outfit, and also make sure to walk here in broad daylight where everyone can see! No cars allowed, most of the fun from Halloween is that anyone can see your costume, so you do need the show off phase

Got it cutie? Good Girl! Now take one more bar as a free-bee and I expect you here in much more appropriate clothing tomorrow, if you want another bar of course

[baskeigh-ball]

I am going so feral for your Raph and Art style

Everytime you pop up on my fyp my day just turns into a GOOD one ~

o(≧∀≦)o

Sobbing every time I get an ask like this why are you guys so nice gjshflkskjfjs

Tysm!! I'm super glad people still get a lot of enjoyment out of my stuff, especially considering how little I've been posting :') it really motivates me to keep coming back no matter how long I disappear

[deadwerewolfgirlfriend]

SUPERNATURAL 13.21 BEAT THE DEVIL What's this really about? Humiliation? Revenge? // Sam when Lucifer's around 1//2//3

[kinardsevan]

Prompt: Buck finds out that Tommy is actually related to TK Strand.

(ahem. you asked for this.)

ETA: I have a serious problem with word skipping when reading if you can’t tell 🙃

He never intended to find out this kind of information. He done the 23&me on a whim after joking around with Eddie and Chim at work when Chim had randomly dropped into conversation “did you know I’m eight percent Scottish?” And of course they didn’t know, because how would that information have been freely available to him? How would he ever have known? 

And then Chimney had gifted him and Eddie each tests for Christmas, and at the time, Evan had figured ‘why the hell not?’ So he’d done the whole thing. Spit in the tube, sent it in, figured maybe he could at least find out if he had to worry about cancer in his future due to the Daniel of it all. 

“You sure you want to mess around in that,” Tommy had asked him over dinner one night. “I’ve heard about people finding out about murderers in their family.” 

But he’d been so sure. So sure there would be nothing interesting that would come back. There was nothing fun about the Buckley’s. His parents are teachers. His grandparents died of natural causes. What’s the worst that could happen? 

Turns out it was a lot. 

. . .

He’s on the stairs when Tommy comes into the loft, duffel still hitched up on his shoulder. They’re supposed to be spending the weekend together, but Evan’s not really sure what’s going to happen after the last twenty-four hours. 

“Hey,” Tommy murmurs softly, letting his bag hit the floor as he walks over to the stairs. He perches down at the base of them, resting a hand on Evan’s knee and ilfting the other to his face, brushing away the tears there. 

“Hi,” Evan rasps back, still staring at his hands folded in front of him. 

“Eddie said Bobby sent you home,” Tommy murmurs. Evan nods. 

“What’s going on,” Tommy asks softly, concern laced around his words. 

Evan’s eyebrows are knit so tightly together they could one into one another and the line his mouth is pressed into could crack peanut shells. 

“I-…My…Um, Maddie…” The words keep dying in his throat before he can get them out, and it just keeps making the knot in his chest tighter. 

“Is something wrong with Maddie?” 

Evan’s head lifts then, meeting Tommy’s eyes. There are conflicting emotions in the blonde’s sapphire eyes. Sorrow. A little bit of anger. Something else Tommy can’t place. Loss? 

“No,” he replies rapidly. “No, she’s fine. B-but she’s… she’s not-…”  Evan shakes his head at himself and reaches for his phone next to him on the stairs. He unlocks it, swipes at it a few times, and then passes it to Tommy. Tommy stares at him for a moment longer than necessary, and then looks down at the screen. 

“Family tree,” Tommy comments, moving the screen around to see the connections. It takes him a moment, but then suddenly he’s pulling the phone closer to his face, moving things around. “Where’s Maddie and Chim?” 

Evan lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, pressing the back of a hand to his nose as he sniffles. Tommy just keeps staring at the phone. 

“This has to be wrong,” Tommy comments. He sets the phone down and looks back up at Evan, cupping his face. 

“It’s not,” Evan rasps, blinking more tears down. “I got the first set of results weeks ago. Told them the same thing. They had me send a fresh sample and retest.” 

Tommy deadpans at him, eyes widened. “Evan.” 

“They’re not my family, Tommy.” His voice is so small and broken that it breaks Tommy, and he can’t stop the tears in his own eyes. “I never fit in because I didn’t belong to them. I’ve never belonged to them.” 

Tommy slides his hands off Evan’s face then and stands, pulling the blonde up with him as he does and into a tight hug. Evan burrows his face into Tommy’s neck, crying softly into the fabric of his maroon henley.

“I’m so sorry, Evan,” he murmurs to him, hand to the back of his head and lips to his temple. For all the jokes everyone has made in recent weeks after Chimney had gifted his friends the test, nobody, not even Tommy, could’ve forseen this outcome. 

They stand in that position for a while, letting Evan process. When it seems like he’s calmed enough, Tommy pulls him over to the table and they sit down next to each other. Tommy pulls Evan’s chair right up next to his, stretching his arm across the back of it and resting his free hand in the blonde’s on the table. 

“There’s nothing that says you have to do anything with any of this information,” Tommy tells him. “Maddie is still your sister. Your family is still your family.” 

Evan sniffles, leans over and rests his head on Tommy’s shoulder. 

“I know them,” he murmurs a moment later, his voice cracking. “The-…my biological family. I know them.” 

“You do,” Tommy asks. He tries not to sound overly curious in case Evan doesn’t want to give more information. 

Evan nods, lifting his head back up. “You remember my friends who came through a few weeks ago to visit?We went to dinner with them?” 

Tommy’s brow furrows as he tries to recall what Evan is specifically referring to. When it clicks, he looks back over at him. 

“TK and Carlos?” 

Evan nods. “H-his parents-… o-or I guess….” He pauses, shakes his head. “Owen and Gwyn had a kid their first year of college. Me, apparently.” 

Tommy frowns at him. 

“They placed the baby for adoption,” Evan continues. “With the option for the baby- me… to seek them out if I decided to once I was an adult.” He pauses for a moment, scowling at his table. “I don’t know h-how, but m-my parents...they tried to have a savior sibling, for Daniel. And it didn’t work. But they knew people through the hospital, a-and when I was born…” His voice trails off, his expression shifting to one of disgust. He looks up at Tommy. “I was technically a match to Daniel. But the graft didn’t take.” 

Tommy narrows his eyes at him, the weight of what Evan’s telling him sinking in. “They adopted you so they could have your bone marrow?” 

Evan lets out disgusted laugh, shaking his head. 

“And then when I couldn’t save the son they actually wanted, they acted like I wasn’t their problem,” he mutters. “And they never told me. “ 

Tommy huffs. He lifts his arm from behind Evan and pulls him in, presses his lips to the blonde’s birthmark. 

“I know it’s not a consolation, but you can still know them,” he states softly. “You already have TK in your life.” 

Evan shakes head, pulling away and looking at Tommy again, more tears in his eyes. 

“Gwyn is dead,” he tells him. “She’s been gone for two years now.” 

Tommy’s head tilts at the information, sorrow and compassion crossing his face. TK also had mentioned when they met that his father was a cancer survivor, and the realization of both of those factors is almost gut-wrenching. 

“I don’t have the right answers for this,” he admits softly. “But I can be here with you through it, whatever you want to do.” 

Evan nods. He leans back over, resting his head on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy presses his face into Evan’s hair, leaving quick, gentle kisses there as his fingers massage gently on his scalp. 

“You’re the only person who’s ever loved me just as I am,” Evan murmurs, snuffling back a small whimper. “The only one who’s ever decided I was enough this way.” 

Tommy gulps down past the knot in his throat as he fists a handful of Evan’s hair, holding him close a beat longer. 

“Never gonna stop,” he rasps after a moment. “This version of you is enough, no matter what anyone else thinks.” 

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #58

Gotham is a city with a lot of ambient ectoplasm, enough that the Fentons move here instead of Amity Park. Danny being a pretty smart kid being the son of 2 scientists gets a scholarship to Gotham academy where he makes friends with Tim and Damian. Well the 2 were only doing it at first because they wanted to keep an eye on them scientists rarely didn’t become rouges in Batman’s gallery so can you really blame them for being cautious?

Danny is telling them about the portal that they were trying to build and how it wasn’t working and how Danny felt guilty about it. The 3 venture down there when the parents are gone and Danny wearing his hazmat goes into the portal while the other 2 watch on. Danny trips and no one’s having a good time.

They decided to take Danny to Wayne manor until they can figure out what exactly happened to him, unfortunately Danny’s new powers act up and he winds up phasing through the floor into the basement… or more accurately the Bat cave.

[tj-crochets]

Hey y'all! Weird question time again, this time cold weather related Is it common practice to open up undersink cabinets and leave at least one faucet, preferably the one furthest from where water comes into the house, dripping overnight when it's below freezing temperatures to prevent pipes freezing? Or is that something that used to be necessary, but with modern building techniques/supplies/practices usually isn't?

[beebfreeb]

What THE BRUSH U USE IM DYINGGG TI KNOW MEOWWWW

What brush do I use? What brush do I use?

Me? Me??? My brush? The artist who draws exclusively teeny tiny drawings with visible pixels at small resolutions?

[mothcpu]

artistic liberty commissions for @thatpocketninja, @herosdemise, and mathstar2gn (twt)!

[cartwrong]

For the hurt/comfort dialogue prompts I would love to see 13 or 19 (or any of them honestly).

I absolutely adore your slow horses fics and always look forward to reading them!! 🫶

aw you're so sweet! thank you <333333 and for you, anonymous friend, you get both! #19 is here :) (from this prompt game)

Also, just a heads up, I'm often incapable of writing a drabble. So, yeah, this is 619 words. Oops.

13. "Can't--breathe--".

“River! River! Look at me!”

He did, and God help her that was worse for Louisa. His eyes, glassy and unfocused, bulged in an unspoken question. His chest looked odd, one side concave in an unnatural way as it heaved in an uneven agony and River struggled to breathe. 

“Oh Fuck.”

Louisa turned desperately to Shirley, who was pale and wide-eyed but was thankfully already calling 999. 

“Can’t–breathe–” River gasped, grabbing onto her wrist with a bruise-inducing grip. 

“It’s going to be okay, We're going to get you help,” Louisa said, her voice somehow absent of the terror rampaging through her as her free hand hovered over River’s chest, unsure what to do, where to touch without causing him further pain. 

She hadn’t seen him fall, only heard as he tumbled down the metal staircase outside Slough House. The thing was a death trap, abnormally slick whenever it rained and more than once Louisa had an oh shit moment when her boot momentarily caught on one of the grates. It was only a matter of time before someone fell to their death on it. 

But, of course, it had been River who had been the unlucky bastard to stumble down the stairs. River, who never met a mirror that he couldn’t break, a ladder he wouldn’t walk under, a black cat he wouldn’t pet. Now, as he lay crumpled and bleeding with his chest caved in on one side and his leg in angles legs weren’t supposed to bend, all she could do was hold his hand and wait. 

All she could do was hold his hand and pray. 

Louisa couldn’t lose him, not now, not after everything, not because he fell down the fucking stairs. 

She squeezed his hand harder. It was clammy under her touch, rubbery, not like River at all. River’s hands were warm, warm and comforting and safe. She touched his face with her other hand and he looked at her again, his pupils blown wide and begging her to help, begging her to take away his pain as his breaths came in uneven gasps and his chest shuddered and sputterd to an unholy rhythm. 

Louisa squeezed his hand harder and didn’t let go, not when the ambulance arrived, not when Shirley tried to pry her away, not when they loaded him into the ambulance and covered his face with an oxygen mask and shoved a needle into his chest to inflate his collapsed lung. Louisa didn’t let go until three orderlies at the hospital held her back as she screamed and wailed and tried to follow into the operating room. 

Her hand felt cold without his and Louisa felt all hope slip through her fingers like grains of sand as she collapsed crying onto the floor of the hospital and tried to catch her breath. She was in the same position when Shirley and Catherine found her, her chest heavy, her breathing laboured, her world shattering around her. 

“Can’t–breathe–” she shuddered. 

With surprising strength for her size, Shirley shoved Louisa into a chair and then pushed her head between her knees. 

“You’re having a panic attack,” she said, her hand firm between Louisa’s shoulder blades. “Follow me, alright? Inhale–hold–exhale–and hold again. Okay, again, inhale–hold–exhale–and hold. That’s it.”

By the time Louisa could breathe again, Lamb had arrived, Roddy and Coe trailing behind him like two sullen teenagers who just got told they couldn’t meet their friends at the mall. Catherine shoved a bottle of water into Louisa’s hand and Shirley left her hand firmly on Louisa’s back, but they were nowhere near closer to finding out anything about River’s condition. 

All Louisa could do was sit and wait and try to remember how to breathe.

Inhale–hold–exhale–and hold.

Inhale–hold–exhale–and hold.

[saintvainglorious]

Fics I Enjoyed in January - DC Comics Fic Rec List Part 2

I am still neck-deep in DC fandom this month and the fics have been so so good. Unlike last time, I am too tired to write mini summaries/reviews, so I'm going to feature my favorite quote from each fic instead.

My first DC Comics fic rec list is here!

Floor Plans by @oh-mother-of-darkness (Teen & Up, 1k, 2016) “I really didn’t want to die,” he finished. “I was kind of hoping if I laid here long enough, I would remember what that felt like.”

Losing two brothers in six months takes an emotional toll.

almost right by @bitimdrake (Teen & Up, 3k, 2020) He desperately wishes that he didn’t know what Dick’s cheekbone feels like under a gauntleted fist.

Bruce sucks in a breath, hand raising to fix the cowl. Dick flinches back.

but more with love by @danishsweethearts (Teen & Up, 3k, 2022) Dick wakes up one morning, groggy from a dream that he thinks might’ve been about the circus and also about his favourite car and also about how lonely he is, and realizes that he can’t remember what his mother’s voice sounds like anymore.

O Robin, Robin, wherefore art thou Robin?

The Mechanics of a Hug by @sohotthateveryonedied (General Audiences, 4k, 2017) “You know… that crushing sense of depression? Like,” Dick chews his lip. “It’s. A physical weight. Makes it hard to breathe?” “Yeah,” Tim says, soft. He smiles, wryly. “I sort of hoped you didn’t, though.”

“So,” Tim ventures. “It's… what, a cuddle pollen?” Bruce just shrugs. “Something like that.”

No Pain, All Gain by @sohotthateveryonedied (General Audiences, 1k, 2020) Tim’s eyes go even wider. “You stole my organs?” “Technically,” Jason chimes in, “the doctors stole your organs. We just gave them permission.”

Bruce checks Tim’s IV. “Are you in any pain? Do you need more morphine?” Tim’s pupils are so wide that only the faintest ring of blue can be seen. He watches Bruce the way a five-year-old watches cartoons. “I’m all good, B-dog. All Gucci, like we cool teens say." His words are slurred almost beyond recognition, but Tim doesn’t seem to notice or care. "I could fight Superman right now.”

The Wind Sits in the Shoulder of Your Sail by @birdchildsnest (Teen & Up, 7k, 2020) “Oh my god. Bruce. I can’t even tell if you’re serious. When everybody finally eats the rich—they’re going to eat you first.”

At least, back then, Tim had barely been a teenager. He could almost forgive his own volatility. And he’d been smart enough (scared enough?) not to tell Jack that he didn’t need him. What was his excuse now? Bruce was his dad (at least, in the legal sense), but (surprise, surprise) it turned out that Tim wasn’t any better at being a son. Or Tim and Bruce still have some things to sort through after the adoption.

I Left My Conscience On Your Front Doorstep by @dustorange (Teen & Up, 21k, 2022) He doesn’t want to be loved if being loved is like this.

"I think I'm leaving," Dick whispers. "I think I'm not coming back."

bad boys bad boys (whatcha gonna do) ♫ by @drakefeathers (Teen & Up, 20k, 2014) "They live their lives thinking they can charge through the city with the right to hurt and kill and destroy as many lives as they want. And they do it all without a shred of remorse." “But—” Damian begins, brow furrowed in confusion. “Isn’t that like you?”

a Jason and Damian as Batman and Robin AU!! featuring a bunch of graffiti, a rival dynamic duo, and Cat Jason (a cat named Jason).

The Biggest Mistake by @oh-mother-of-darkness (General Audiences, 1k, 2016) “I could ground him anyway, if it would make you feel better.” “He only said it because I called him ‘a garbage can so ineffective it actually became garbage.’”

"You know what really needs to be addressed? Bruce's truly terrible treatment of Damian." -Me, on a daily basis

been a number and a name by @wynterstars (Teen & Up, 35k, 2023) “Turns out if you just say ‘spacetime’ until people’s eyes glaze over they don’t really question anything you say. Also, somehow nobody expects me to be able to actually do enough math to explain it.”

On a field trip, Robin has a close encounter with the newest super in Metropolis, only to discover the hard way that Superboy secretly works for Lex Luthor. They agree to work together on a plan to free Superboy from Luthor’s hold, but Robin isn’t sure how far he can trust him—and his developing feelings only make things more complicated.

clean it like you mean it by @wynterstars (Teen & Up, 70k, 2024) "Wait, ugh, you're not my dead dad, right? If I'm getting a dying vision of my dead dad I want a do-over because he suuuuucked."

When Gotham's crooks have to scrub down their lairs, who do they call? Jason Todd, Gotham's first and only underworld crime scene cleaning specialist. He's spent his life dodging the Bat, but after a chance encounter he saves Robin's life. Tim Drake finds himself drawn to the conflicted rogue, and soon Jason becomes Robin's street informant. But they can only stay on opposite sides of the law for so long before something breaks.

3:16 by @wufflesvetinari (Teen & Up, 70k (WIP), 2023) “Try to decouple one thing from the other. I’m proud of you, but ice cream isn’t my grand statement about whether you’ve been good or bad today. Good things are good. Happiness is precious. Sometimes you just want caramel chocolate chip.”

The knife pushes thin along Dick’s carotid artery, cupping the indent between neck and jawline—forcing him to angle his chin. The metal is warm, pulled with execution speed from under Damian’s pillow. “Okay,” Dick says quietly, tracking the intricacies of his own heartbeat—counting the space between breaths. “Guess I did need a shave.” (With faltering steps, Dick and Damian become Batman and Robin.)

wolf-king of rome by @mysterycitrus (Not Rated, 25k, 2024) “You go after Joker, but you don’t kill him, because it’s not about the Joker dying, it’s about Bruce breaking his code for you. It’s about Bruce loving you enough to change himself for the worse. It’s about your idea of grieving.”

Jason doesn’t fear Dick Grayson. Fear itself has changed shape for him, since his return from the Pit - it tastes of dirt in his mouth, of drowning, of fire and blood and laughter, more than a tangible face. Still, he’d be stupid not to be cautious. Dick liked playing on an uneven field, and would do anything to keep him off balance, so he just had to stay focused. That’s the nature of the armistice, both waiting for the other to make a move. It’s like balancing on the head of a pin.

Declensions by @dustorange (Teen & Up, 13k, 2018) “Do not tell them your name. Do as I did to survive. I lied. I have always lied. Make one up. Do not let them have you. Say your name is…is…is…Richard Grayson. Or something. They are going to steal you; do not give them anything to steal.”

“My father,” Dick says, “worked the rope. It cut him. His hands were never clean.”

Passiontide by @bigdvmnhero (Teen & Up, 5k, 2025) Despite its faults, the day had tried to be good. He felt young, like someone's son.

On the 96th day Bruce didn't call, Dick remembered their old game. Three things he knew: 1) In three months, it would be Dick's death anniversary; 2) Bruce was still missing his check-ins; 3) Here Dick was, persisting. Imagine the things I'd survive, Dick thought distantly, if I loved Bruce less. Or: Agent 37 and his various crises of faith, on Day 277 at Spyral, Day 150, and Day -0.

the time you won your town the race by @silverwhittlingknife (Teen & Up, 4k (WIP), 2022) Tim. Tim is Dick’s. Death sharpens, clarifies these things. Who will receive the body, decide on the funeral, receive condolences, make all the decisions that matter. No one has questioned it, not even Tim’s friends. There’s a terrible clarity about death. If Dick said, let’s burn everything he owned, Alfred would do it.

He doesn’t know exactly what Tim would say. But he knows what Tim would do. Tim dies. Dick doesn’t take death for an answer. A Red Robin 12 AU.

door, opening by @cowboysorceror (Mature, 70k (WIP), 2024) Dick, with the keys to every locked door Jason has ever tried to open, tucked inside the cradle of his skull; all of that, snuffed out like a candle.

It’s barely audible, but he knows what he heard. A short, four-note whistle, chirping down – E, C#, then jumping up to A, F#, a little trill on the finish. He waits a moment, head turned slightly towards the dim shapes of storage containers between him and the ramp, eyes straining against the blackness. Long, stretching seconds. There it is again. His gloved hand, prickling with cold, closes into a fist. It’s a wood thrush. A small North American songbird that doesn’t sing at night, doesn’t live in the city. He knows what it means. It means hold, steady, not yet. It means wait for me, I’m behind you.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Hello loves!! This was a request by Sammy over on ao3!! Fic under the cut love y'all!!

Two-Bit was used to a lot of things. One of them was drinkin' too much. The other was wakin' up to people mad at him. It sorta came with the territory. Go out huntin' action. Have a drink. Have another. Meet up with some buddies. Have two more. And then a pack. Black out somewhere between the sixth 'n the eleventh. Wake up to someone mad.

Mostly Darry.

Now what he was not used to was wakin' up the next mornin' to a hangover that could have killed a racehorse, the sound of door slammin' so hard it nearly came straight off the hinges, 'n Dallas Winston ready to spit nails. Mostly Dallas. Not the hangover. That was to be expected.

"Where the fuck is Two-Bit?" Ah. Well. That couldn't bode well. Two scrapes himself off the bed, Darry's, which also couldn't be a great sign considerin' he had no memory of how he got there, 'n tilts his head so he can hear better.

"What's goin' on?" Pony pries 'n Two chuckles to himself 'n then groans. Damn, his head hurt.

"Pone, stay out of it." Dallas stomps down the hall, bangin' open doors 'n rattlin' the picture frames. If his head wasn't poundin' so hard Two might've thought about the implications of that more but right now he just wants to bury under a pillow 'n go back to bed.

"Why don't you stay out of it you're in my house." Pony grumbles but retreats back into the living room. Two only has half a second to force himself up before Darry's bedroom door slams against the wall.

Dallas looks pissed. Not aggravated or irked or hacked off. Pissed.

"You fuckin' asshole." Two throws his hands up 'n grins.

"Nice to see ya too, Dally." Dallas sneers, silver tooth catchin' the light dangerously. He's across the room before Two can blink, fist balled up in the front of his shirt, yankin' him close. Two suddenly feels deeply nauseous.

"You're way over the fuckin' line." Dallas jars him back 'n forth 'n Two's not focused on anythin' but keepin' the contents of his stomach down 'n off of Dallas' jacket. Somehow he doubts that'll improve his mood. Dallas takes one good look at Two 'n scowls. "Do you even fuckin' remember?"

Last night... last night... Nothin'. Dallas drops him. "Oh my God you don't even remember."

"Well, you sure know how to jog a guy's memory." Dallas glares at him like he's seriously considerin' knockin' his lights out. 'N Two knows Dallas. He will. "What happened?"

Dallas rolls his eyes, leans back against the wall. "So now I gotta play twenty fuckin' questions with you just so I can knock your teeth in?"

"Hey, give a man some credit. I bet I can get it in nineteen." Dallas shoves himself off the wall 'n Two instinctively kicks a foot out. Dallas just rolls his eyes 'n boots him in the ankle, steppin' over it. Two yelps 'n Dallas elbows him in the side to get him to move, droppin' down on the bed.

"Well, I ain't kickin' your ass until you can well 'n good remember why."

"Jesus, this is not kickin' my ass? Don't get too generous now." Two rubs at his ribs, sticks out his bottom lip in a passable imitation of Pony.

"Don't start that shit on me- I can hardly stomach it when Pony does it." There's an indignant sound from somewhere in the hall 'n Dallas scowls, gets up, 'n disappears out the door. Two can vaguely hear Dallas manhandlin' the kid out into the living room to Pony's great displeasure.

"Stop. Bein'. Nosy." Two takes the chance to fully untangle himself from the sheets. There's a glass of water on the bedside that Two guesses Darry left. God, he was real good to them sometimes. Most times. He'd have to think of a way to make it up to him. Maybe stop bein' such a little shit.

"That's rich comin' from you-AGH!" There's a distinct sound of Dallas jumpin' on Pony 'n Two snorts. After all, Darry had his hands full in that department.

"Dallas, conserve some of that ass-kickin' energy for me, I'm gettin' jealous in here!"

"Fuck off!" Dallas shouts back but Two can also hear him slam the kid down on the couch 'n retreat back down the hall.

"Look out, Two, he's in a mood." Pony hollers 'n Dallas damn near spins on his heel to give the kid part two.

"C'mon, Dal. You're gonna wear yourself out before you even get to bust my head in." Dallas pauses, shoots him a glare, but stomps back into the room.

"God, now I get why Darry's always got a stick up his ass. Between the two of you I could get a fuckin' ulcer."

"Damn, now you really sound like ol' Dar. You gonna go grey, too?" Dal socks him in the ribs 'n Two groans.

"I don't think you got any goddamn room to talk. I hear Darry had to scrape you off the drive-in pavement." A brief memory of Darry's face as he marched toward him 'n hauled him up flashes through his mind. He's got the impression he had something real funny. Man, he wishes he could remember that.

"Is that what you're pissed about? Man, I don't know what Darry's been puttin' in your Wheaties. He slidin' you a little extra cash so you get to knock my teeth out instead of him? Or are you payin' him for that privilege?" Two throws a guess at the wall 'n Dallas glowers.

"Darry can beat you to a pulp all on his lonesome. Fuckin' think."

"I'm tryin', I'm tryin'." Last night. Last night. C'mon. "I dunno, man." He was startin' to get nervous 'n Dallas' mood was not improvin'. Two felt suddenly like he was about to be told off 'n read his goddamn rights by the way Dallas' face darkened.

"Well, let me jog you're fuckin' memory. You started with about a pack 'n a half of Bud's which, by the way, Darry almost kicked my ass for 'cause he thought I had walked off with 'em." Two hisses in sympathy 'n Dallas narrows his eyes. "'N then you beat it outta here to go cruise some fuckin' action at the Dingo already pissed out of your fuckin' mind."

Look. Two knew he drank too much. He knew he should probably lay off it a bit. Or a bunch. But Dallas wasn't exactly a pillar of good behavior or nothin'. He was startin' to get deja vu for the well-tread you need to shape up conversation Darry gave him once a month. Two would argue that was improvement. They used to have it once a week.

But Dallas didn't give a shit about bad habits unless it came to Pony. Or Johnny. Or shit, he had that weird thing with that Shepard kid, too. Didn't like none of 'em doin' anythin' too hard.

He's got a sudden wheedlin' feelin' this has somethin' to do with one of 'em.

"Earth to fuckin' Two-Bit." Dallas snaps a hand in front of his face.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm thinkin'." He does actually remember that. He'd caught the end of a movie 'n some action in the form of some little fistfight. Nothin' real tough. Just enough to get his blood pumpin'. Now that he was thinkin' about it, he swore he'd run into someone. Glory, who was it?

"Any fuckin' day now." Dallas doesn't seem to be workin' himself down any. If anythin' he's gettin' real pissed again. "I'm about to stop worryin' about you rememberin' why I'm cavin' your skull in."

"Glory, I'm gettin' to it. Maybe I should have let you put Pony on his ass so I could have a minute to get my head on straight."

"You couldn't get your head on straight if I beat Pony to a bloody pulp for the next week 'n a half." He gets another picture of a memory. Pony sittin' at the table when he headed out, diligently workin' on a project he was supposed to have finished last week before Darry came home 'n beat his ass.

So Pony was out.

"I ran into someone, right? Man, I can almost remember. That's what this is about, right?" Dallas glares at him, white blonde hair fallin' in his eyes. "Right, no twenty questions."

And Johnny, too. Johnny was with Pony 'cause Darry had been strong armin' him into stayin' at the Curtis' since his parents had been on a real bender lately.

"Glory God all-fuckin'- mighty. It was-"

Oh. Wait. He shakes his head hard. Fuck. He remembers who. 'N that bode deeply ill for him.

"Curly. Curly Shepard, yeah?"

Dallas' eyes darken 'n he slides off the bed 'n gets to his feet. Bad sign. "Ding ding ding."

Ah. Well. Shit.

So here's the thing. Dallas liked to pretend like he didn't give a shit. 'N most of them were inclined to pretend they believed him. When he pulled the odd stunt 'n then turned around 'n acted like he couldn't care if any of 'em lived or died they all nodded along 'n, behind closed doors, knew better.

Like that time he'd taken Two's rap for bustin' the school windows or went down for those stolen hubcaps they all knew Steve had lifted or told Darry it was him that put the dent in his bumper when Soda had accidentally backed into a pole.

Sometimes, when he wasn't bein' a fuckin' hood, Dallas was a real good guy.

Now the problem was he also had no problem takin' it out of your ass when he thought you'd been a dick. By his standards. He'd jumped Steve once for pushin' Pony too hard 'n makin' the kid cry 'n whaled the tar outta Soda that time he'd talked Johnny into ridin' in a rodeo 'n the kid had damn near killed himself 'n had no problem hollerin' at Darry when he was bein' unreasonable. However rare it was. The first time Two had let Pony try a beer Dallas had nearly blown a fuckin' gasket.

"You remember what happened?" Dallas rolls his shoulders back, shakes his rings off.

"I'm workin' on it." Two eyes him. It's right there. Just at his fingertips. He'd said somethin' to the kid. Most have been somethin' fucked.

"Tim told me it had the kid real fucked up. He was gonna come down here 'n kick your ass but I figured Darry might beat him into the ground for that so I'm doin' him the favor."

'N Two realizes somethin'.

"Wait a minute. You don't know what the hell I said either!" Dallas shrugs his jacket off, rolls his eyes.

"Whatever it was must've been fucked up to upset Curly." He shoots him a glare, narrows his eyes. "Don't fuckin' tell anyone that, by the way. Or I'll kick your ass again. Now, c'mon."

"Wait, wait, wait. I think I remember- I do remember!" The rest of the night suddenly crashes into his head like a thunderbolt. He throws a hand up to bat away Dallas as he goes to grab him. "I said-

God, Two howls a laugh 'n Curly scowls even deeper. Any more 'n it'd be permanent. Two knew he hated it but he really did look like Tim in miniature. He also looked like-

Curly, kid, you look like if they greased up a wet cat, you know that?

Dallas drops his grip on Two-Bit 'n blinks. Once. Twice. Oh, Jesus here we go. Two should have just kept his mouth shut.

Then he slaps a hand to his mouth 'n cackles to himself so hard he has to grab the doorway. "That's it? Man, the bitch fit Curly had thrown had me thinkin' you'd said somethin' vile man. God that's funny."

"Glad to give you all the facts before you come down like a hammer on my poor ass." Two tries to look put out 'n doesn't manage it at all. Dallas raises an eyebrow at him 'n suddenly they're both howlin'.

"Well, shit. I already promised I'd put a fuckin' pop knot on your head for that shit." They're both still gigglin' intermittently, Pony havin' appeared in the doorway at some point only to have the door slammed in his face for bein' so goddamn nosy. I'll tell you later, glory God.

"Look, I'll stand still for it. I feel kinda bad for upsettin' the kid anyway. Even if he did deserve it." Dallas raises an eyebrow incredulously but shrugs a shoulder.

"Fine. I'm gonna pop you in the eye so Tim can see it, dig? I'll try not to break anythin'."

"Hey, for my sake? Try real hard." Two's got a couple inches on Dallas so he plops back on the bed, lettin' Dal grab him by the shoulders 'n line up his punch.

"Ready?"

"As ever."

Dallas lets his fist fly at the same time the door slams open again.

"Dallas Tucker Winston 'n Keith Mathews." 'N Two's actually grateful he can't see anythin'. "Why can't I ever leave this house without comin' back to a brawl?"

Dallas glances down at Two as he presses a hand over his eye. They both last three seconds before they're both howlin'.

"Would it make a difference if I said he asked for it?"