#does this probably not make sense? sure but it's fun and I like it

[asdfghjklartblog]

Vermillion

Trans masc reader x yandere batfam

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (here)

Hello! Sorry this took a bit longer, but the chapter is also longer than usual so hopefully it makes up for it! So this is like almost exactly 7.4k words so take a little break, grab a drink and maybe some tissues because I cried while writing this one. I’m also generally an emotional person so that’s not saying a lot tbh. Anyways have fun!

Tw: Neglect, Slight gore, Obvious favouritism

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There’s no other way to say it, Jason’s been following you around both in and out the manor. But considering you’re a homebody who does nothing but go to school, read and write fanfics, draw commissions and whatnot, it was pretty damn easy to just follow you around. At first you found it unsettling, even you, a daddy’s girl didn’t hang around your daddy that much. But he grew on you, like how ivy grows along the side of a building. You guys get to talking and you two realise that you lived close to each other before you were taken in by Bruce. Which is both a pleasant and sad surprise. You love Jason, he was your family just like Luke.

You don’t know what’s going on with Dick per se, but you heard through the grapevine that he’s studying to be a cop in Bludhaven. He comes back home sometimes, well more rarely than anything but whatever. It’s not like it’s your problem. The two of you still have nothing in common, and he still finds your doujinshi and your obsession with anime a bit… Weird but he doesn’t say anything anymore. And considering that the two of you are older now, you don’t out right avoid or fight each other anymore. Mostly because he’d kick your ass.

Bruce is… Different. Not in a bad way but, he feels more unsure? Whatever Dick and Bruce fought about, you could tell that Bruce was still grumpy about it. I mean who could blame him? Dick was his favourite, his golden child, the one he wanted, the one he chose. You try not to think about it, because it hurts. And then it hurts more as you start to spiral and if it gets too bad you start feeling sick. But it’s fine. You’re fine. This is fine. Bruce is getting closer to Jason, it kinda makes your heart clench as you see their relationship progress. Jason tried to invite you to spend time with them but you knew Bruce would be uncomfortable, and you’d probably be throwing up less than a minute in from anxiety.

However you started thinking about being trans masc, at least that’s what you remember it being called. ‘Cause Robin was probably right. She has a knack for sensing these kinds of things. She helps you look into where to get HRT and how the process works. However the problem was getting permission from Alfred and Bruce to get the treatment. You don’t necessarily think it’d be a big deal but Alfred was old. He doesn’t seem like the type of man to be transphobic but, you never know. But Bruce? You weren’t too sure about him. On one hand he’s a respectful and good man. On the other hand he is a man and a playboy, so honestly the odds didn’t look too good.

The first person you come out to is well, Robin. Obviously. Well I mean she already knew so was it really coming out? It’s more like she was waiting for you to come out of the see-through a glass closet. However the second person is by complete accident. You see, you were tutoring Eric in Algebra. You didn’t have a choice, you were volunteering as a tutor and you couldn’t just refuse a person without a good cause. You were explaining polynomials to him and he just suddenly throws his head back and groans. “Ugh, this is so fucking gay. What do we even fucking need this for.”

And you replied without thinking. You chuckle before saying. “Yeah just like me.”

The both of you freeze before he just slowly turns to you and asks. “Dude, you serious?”

You lean back against the chair’s backrest and sigh. “Yeah.”

He then waits a beat before saying. “So like, you like women? You like pussy?”

You almost choke on the laughter that just bubbled out which he just looks at you weirdly for. You catch your breath and try to clear up the confusion. “Sorry, I don’t know why but that was really funny to me. But uh, maybe? I’m not sure yet. But I mean that I’m a man that likes other men.”

You can see that Eric needed to connect the dots, and you know he’s got it when his eyebrows shot up and he lets out a little. “Oh.”

You nod and say. “Yeah, I found out like a year ago but didn’t have time to delve into it at the time.”

He then nods, letting out a small hum. He sits up straight before looking at you and just says. “I think I like guys too.”

Your neck slowly turns to him and you raise an eyebrow at that before sassily turning back to the textbook and replying with. “Ew, that’s so gay.”

He immediately turns to you with a flabbergasted look on his face. You try your best to keep your smile down but he can tell. He punches your shoulder playfully before saying. “Fuck off man, piece of shit gay boy.”

You answer back with. “Pot calling the kettle black.”

Eric rolls his eyes and the two of you chuckle before a calm silence fills the room again. After a few moments he gets serious and saying. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

You look at and you can clearly tell that he’s nervous about what you’re about to say. You let him stew in his anxiety a little longer before giving him an answer. “I won’t, I promise.”

He releases a breath that he kept down in his anxiousness. Eric then says. “Hey, if you ever want like help to make your body bigger or whatever, I can help. I mean I am on the football team and run defense!”

You smile at him in a way that looks like you’re playing around with him like a cat toying around with a mouse. “Yeah? You got any moves to show me?”

His eyes widen almost comically as he immediately turns red, the freckles on his face barely visible because of it. He then tries to laugh it off before saying. “Wow! I am beat! I think I’m gonna go now.”

You look at the time and you say in a confused tone of voice. “Eric we still have like more than hour of studying-“

But he’s already packing his things and rushing out the entrance of library. You sigh and start to pack your own things before you notice some blonde dude in a trench coat. You felt someone’s eyes on you before, and you kinda feel like it might be that guy. It’s pretty quiet in the library and despite there being more than enough seats, he sits right in front of you. He flashes you a charming smile and when you look at him, he reminds you so much of Daddy. He’s also got the scruffy stubble on his jaw and above his lips. He then says with a scouse accent. “Hello, my name’s John Constantin-“

You interrupt him and loudly say. “Sir, I am underage.”

A few heads turn and he sighs then chuckles before saying. “Cheeky little thing aren’t you.”

You shrug before starting to pack up. He then looks you up and down before asking. “Mind telling me about something kid?”

You groan and ask him. “What? What the hell do you want? Why are you, as the people from where you live would say, gegging in?”

He raises an eyebrow before he asks. “You know scouse?”

You reply with. “I looked it up and watched a couple videos on it late at night. Kinda stuck to my brain for some reason.”

He nods before saying. “Makes sense. Now tell me, you seen any owls lately?”

Your heart skips a beat but you’re able to maintain your cool as you finish packing up, you then reply with. “Not really, I mean owls are hard to find in gotham not many trees and all that.”

He eyes you up and down before saying. “Don’t lie kid, it won’t do you any good.”

You get up and glare at him before saying. “Go fuck yourself.”

He smirks before sarcastically calling out as you walk away. “We actually say ‘sod off’ but nice try!”

You rush out of the library and go home. What the hell was that, and how did he know about the owl in your dreams? You haven’t told anyone except Luke. Maybe you shouldn’t have just blown the guy off. You sigh as you think about it a bit more, but you’re tired from studying and just wanna have dinner and then go to bed. The dreams stop for a while after that, letting you sleep peacefully.

You start to do better in your classes for some reason, it’s definitely not the result of you now sleeping restfully and exercising with Eric. But after you start seeing the results, seeing the muscle on your arms and your back and whatnot, leaves you feeling amazing. It even gives you the confidence boost to come out to Luke who just says. “Yeah, I kinda guessed. Either that or you were some kinda freak.”

You pushed him playfully after he said that. He laughs and throws one arm around your shoulder and ruffles your hair. He sighs, as he goes back to lie down on the grass. The two of you are just hanging out on the grass as the two of you look at the stars. He then hums before saying. “You know, I can’t believe it’s been 10 years since we met. I still remember when you barely came to my waist, and now you’re just an inch above my shoulder! Absolutely insane.”

After he says that you sigh, you start to tear up as you say. “You know how I have trouble remembering stuff? I… I’m starting to forget my memories with my daddy. And I don’t want to forget. I try to write them down but, I can only remember general things. I can’t remember what was there, what we were doing-“

Luke interrupts you gently, and say in a low voice. “I know it’s scary. I had the same fears as you did when I started to realise that I couldn’t remember Monchi, my first dog. You want me to tell you about him?”

You close your eyes as you listen to him talk, he talks about how Monchi died when he was barely 6, and that he was a small pug that was also kinda fat. How the dog loved napping the most, and loved sleeping on Luke the best. How the dog loved those bacon treats you would always see on the commercials. You laugh and the two of you decide to keep a journal of your most precious memories.

One day you realise that you haven’t told Jason yet, and but figured that he probably wouldn’t know about any of that stuff so you put it off. However as you turn 16 you think that you should probably tell Alfred sooner than later. When you tell Alfred and he smiles gently as he says. “You are very brave for telling me. And I thank you for trusting me enough to tell me miss- no, master y/n. Excuse me but it will take some time before I ingrain this information into my memory.”

You nod and then continue as you say. “I was actually hoping that you could help me with something? I-I really want to get HRT, and I need Bruce’s consent to do that. I was really hoping you could maybe convince him? I just I’m scared of telling him myself.”

Alfred looks at you sadly before nodding and says. “How about we tell him now? He has an opening right now, and since he stayed home today, you can tell him face to face.”

You panic and reply with a stammer. “N-No that’s okay really I can wai-“

Alfred then starts to drag you towards the lion’s den and Jesus, this old man is strong, what the hell. He then knocks on the door, and you’re hoping, praying to god that Bruce says he’s busy. However you hear Bruce call out. “Come in!” When both you and Alfred enter, Bruce raises an eyebrow, he’s probably thinking ‘What did she do now?‘ Alfred then says to Bruce. “Master y/n had some news to tell you. Nothing bad, good news actually.”

You then blurt out a tad bit too loud. “I’m trans. A-And I like men. And I think I like girls?”

Alfred and Bruce stare at you in complete silence. Thankfully, Bruce interrupts the awkward silence with. “Congratulations. Is there.. Anything else?”

You take a deep breath and ask. “Can you sign the consent form for the HRT treatment?”

Bruce nods and then goes back to work. That was super anticlimactic. But at least you got permission! Over the next month you and Bruce fills out all the forms and you’re overjoyed! Everything is great you’re voice is getting deeper, you’re growing even taller, you started getting chest hair among… Other things. But overall this is great!

One day at school, you’re studying in the library in the little corner where nobody can see you when you overhear some people making fun of you. You don’t really care though, you’ve made your peace with how weird you are. However their topic then changes to Jason.

A boy says. “Have you seen that kid? He doesn’t deserve to be here, he’s alley trash! He should be back on the street with that slut of a mother he has.”

They giggles like it’s the funniest thing in the world, it grates on your ears. Another girl continues, saying. “Oh my god! Nick you can’t say that! But really, how is he getting good grades? Maybe his mom taught him a thing or two!”

You’re frozen in place, you can’t believe what you’re hearing. It feels vile, disgusting and you feel like tearing out the very throats that are assaulting your ears.

Another girl joins in and says. “We should get him to get kicked out of the school! Maybe we could make look like he’s harassing us or something? Oh! We could make it seem like he’s taking advantage of us!”

You get up. You’ve heard enough. As you walk to where the girls are, you feel red hot anger going through your veins. You get to where they are, and hearing their cruel suggestions laughter grates on your nerves. You walk right up to them, getting up close and personal before growling. “What the fuck did you say?”

The girls look at you as if you were a piece of gum on the sole of their shoe, the boy looks at you with a smirk as if to challenge you. The boy pushes you away and says. “Oh, look! It’s bloody mary, what are you doing here? Did you hear what we said? You’re lucky it isn’t you we’re targeting. At least half of you is worthy of being here.”

You glare at them before getting right up in the boy’s face again, you brush your hair back and stand up straighter and saying. “If you don’t fucking shut up, and mind your business. If I see any of you near my little brother, it’s on fucking sight. You understand me? I’ll fucking get teachers involved, the police, your parents, I’m dragging you all down.”

The guy scoffs and pushes you away before saying. “You and what army? Everyone in school knows that Bruce doesn’t care about yo-“

He doesn’t get to finish that sentence as you uppercut him. He stumbles a bit before he collapses onto the floor, unconscious. Then you look at the girls and hiss. “Either you stop whatever the fuck you’re planning, or I come back with more than just my fucking fists”

The girls look at each other and nod hesitantly. You leave them be as you go back to your little corner in the library. You then pack up your things and leave, way too angry to study. So you just go to the cafeteria, where you see Jason happily eating with his friends. You start to calm down and smile stupidly as you see him safe and happy, he notices you staring and mouthes the words. “Stop looking at me.” You chuckle as you turn away to scroll on your phone.

You were called to the principal’s after that, but there was no video evidence to prove that showed that you knocked out with whatever that guy’s name was. It’s not that it was edited out, it just messed up during the time you were there. Weird. But since there was no evidence saying otherwise you got suspended and this time it was put on record. Bruce was disappointed in you but to fair when wasn’t he? Jason heard what you did and spent the week you were just hanging out with you and giving you random hugs. Which didn’t really bother you, you liked the physical affection. And after so long of barely having any, it feels nice. You assume it’s the same for Jason. Not that his situation was the same as yours but you know.

You always try and let Jason come to you, like a cat. Cause sometimes he just gets really shy or standoffish about physical affection, probably trying to unconsciously defend himself or something. It’s a bit hard to restrain yourself though when he’s so cute, you even get cuteness aggression from just seeing him. And thank god for Alfred feeding this boy, because in less than a year he’s in the target weight for his size and age and now he’s got these cute chubby cheeks and you just love pinching them. He absolutely hates it though. And sometimes you have this urge to just… Sit on him though? It’s so weird. Like you wish you were a giant cat or something so you could lie on top of him so he’d be warm, toasty and safe under you.

Now you’re 17, and usually you don’t celebrate your birthday, but since Luke came back from his tour in Afghanistan, and Jason saying that it could be fun, led the two of you to baking your own cake in the kitchen. So with Alfred’s permission and under his watchful eye, you guys bake a cake. You brought out the ingredients you needed out from the pantry and fridge, Jason was in charge of mixing things together and Luke was making sure the oven was preheated and then started to make the (kind of frosting you like). You take out the cake molds and ask the two of them. “How many layers should we make and how big should we make it? And another question, what flavour of cake would you guys prefer?”

Luke shrugs and says. “I’m fine with anything. I ain’t picky.”

Jason thinks about it for a moment before saying. “Mango, or maybe we could make like an earl grey cake?”

You respond with. “We’re doing (favourite cake flavour).”

Luke rolls his eyes while he smiles, he looks to Jason and says. “Whenever I get a slice cake for him, he always chooses that flavour. I don’t even know why I bother to even ask at this point.”

Jason snickers at that while you huff and say. “It’s my favourite flavour. If you got a problem with it then take it up with management.”

Luke chuckles at that, and all of you continue to do the tasks you assigned each other. You guys laughed and joked around while making your cake. Then you guys put the cake mix in the oven, while it bakes the three of you go into the living room to play video games, you guys play (favourite game), and you let Jason play too. But he keeps making the wrong decisions so you and Luke end up backseat gaming and spoiling everything almost everything. While Jason is playing, Luke looks you up and down he notices something. “Shit, y/n. What has Alfred been feeding you? And where did you get all this muscle from? You look good, man.”

Your smile brightens up and you nod at him, saying. “Thanks, the HRT has been helping me build more muscle mass, I’m getting more hair too, but the mood swings are rough man. Like I switch from violently angry to violently…” You look at Jason and see that he’s still playing the game but decide to not say what you were thinking. “Excited.”

Luke makes grimaces and pushes your face away with one hand. “Gross. Did not need to know that.”

You chuckle and then you ask. “Is it normal to get butt hair?”

Luke shrugs and says. “I mean I guess, some of my friends back during my tour had ass hair. I accidentally caught a glimpse when I hit the showers a bit late from doing extra burpees the sergeant assigned for me.”

You nod and then ask him. “Was it because the sergeant was homophobic?”

Luke looks at you confused and says. “I’m not gay.”

Which makes you smile but you try to stifle it as you continue to talk. “Yeah you are, you’re so gay. You fuck dudes left and right.”

He groans and the replies with. “I am helping you with both your schoolwork and making your fucking cake, and you’re seriously gaslighting me into believing that I’m gay?”

You laugh at that and then school your face and with your best brooding face and Bruce voice, you say. “Fox. You are gay. You are-“ and then you do the gay limp wrist thing.

Luke busts out laughing at that, and then starts to cough as he says. “What the fuck.”

You smile back at him and then see Jason doing something that requires concentration you, then start to practically lay on top of him as you say. “Ugh, gravity is increasing on me Jason.”

He tries to push you off and he almost does because he’s actually pretty damn strong surprisingly. He starts to get annoyed and says. “No it isn’t!!”

You nonchalantly reply. “It is too, Jason. Same thing happened yesterday.”

He groans and growls. “NO!” After losing the concentration game. He lets out another groan before pushing you off and saying. “Get your fat ass off of me!”

You laugh as you get off of him but then before he can even move you pull him onto your lap and start hugging him tightly which makes him groan even louder before struggling to get you off. That made you laugh and you eventually pull away from him, he goes back to playing his game and you sit there and wonder as you look at both Luke trying to help Jason with the game. Do they even know how much they matter to you? Do they know you’d kill for them? That you’d get your hands bloody and bruised for them? Would they do the same for you, you ask yourself. Would they love you and protect you just as fiercely? You then turn back to the TV and decide to enjoy this little piece of heaven.

The three of you eventually get back into kitchen and ice and decorate the cake together. It’s a bit lopsided, but it’s yours. And that is what makes it perfect. You guys watch (fav comfort movie) while you guys eat the cake. You guys all sleep in your room that night, having a little sleepover together.

In the morning you see that Jason is gone, you yawn and get up to go find him. You see his bedroom light is open and for some reason, you have this gut feeling. It tells you to be quiet, to peek into Jason’s room. Your brows furrow and you decide to trust your gut. You gently move the door, and peer into Jason’s room. You see Jason is changing. Gross. But as you’re about to close the door you see scars and bruises littering his torso. You freeze and decide to keep watching, why the hell does he have those? You’re almost absolutely sure he’s not getting bullied. You’ve made sure of that. So where did those marks come from? It can’t be Bruce, he might not love you, but he definitely loves Jason. And he isn’t the person to do that, you know it. It can’t be Alfred, he’d rather chop his arm off than hurt any of us. So who?

You then barge in, making Jason jump. Before he can say anything, you march up to him and pointing at the large purple bruise on his ribs you growl out. “What happened? Why the hell are you this scratched up and hurt? I know it isn’t from school and it not from-“

He tries to placate you by looking up at you with apologetic eyes and gently saying. “Y/n-“

You glare at him and say. “Don’t you fucking,” You then mimic the way he said your name and then continue. “I asked you a question and you better tell me the damn truth. I can read you like a fucking book Jason Peter Todd, don’t fucking play with me.”

Jason looks at you in the eyes and then looks to the ground. He sighs and says. “I’m in an underground fighting ring.”

You raise an eyebrow and roll your eyes before snarkily saying. “Yeah? Why the fuck is there cuts and slash scars on your skin then.”

He replies scoffs and mockingly says. “There’s a reason it’s called underground, there’s no rules.”

Your eyes widen at his attitude and you glare at him as you continue. “Don’t take that tone with me, boy. I may not be your father or mother but I am still still an elder.”

Jason looks at you with an unimpressed look and says. “You are three years older than me you are NOT and elder.”

You respond with. “Who made you the elder expert.”

Jason crosses his arms before growling. “No one. You’re just so unqualified that it’s clear to everyone.”

You’re about to respond to him again when you realise he’s trying to distract you. You then take a breath to calm down before saying. “Okay. Whatever. That’s not important. I’m just. Tell me the truth Jason, please. I’m your older brother, if you can’t trust me, who can you trust? I love you, very much. I promise I won’t be mad. I just want to know.”

Jason looks into your eyes before he sighs. He looks around the room before he gestures for you to lean in close. You do so giving him your ear, he then whispers into your ear. “Go fuck yourself.”

You pull away and groan in indignation before growling. “Fine! Keep your secrets! But don’t come to me when you need help.”

You march out of his room and accidentally slam his door, unaware that you practically broke the door and the wall around it. Why the fuck wouldn’t he tell you? Especially if he’s getting hurt from it! You can help, you’d do whatever he needs. You stop in your tracks and you know, that if you walk away now, you’re giving him a chance to cover his tracks. You’re giving him a chance to shut you out from… Whatever he’s going through. You groan, being a good big brother is hard. You start walking back and gently knocking on his door. The door falls over and you let out a surprised little noise. You see he’s staring at you before he turns away and puts his chin in his hand.

You take a deep breath and go to sit next to him. You sigh and you hesitantly put your hand on his shoulder. “Jason. Just… Please? Please just tell me what’s going on? Are you being bullied or something? Are you really going to some underground fighting ring? If so I’m not letting you go, at least not alone. Jason you’re my little brother. You and Luke are the only family I have-“

Jason blurts out. “I’m Robin.”

You freeze. You look at him incredulously and ask. “What?”

Jason also looks surprised. He then looks away and then turns back to you. “I- That was a joke.”

You look closer at Jason and you absolutely know he was telling the truth just now. You stand up and start pacing around the room before you come to a realisation. “Bruce… Bruce is..?”

Jason looks away, and that tells you everything you need to know. Everything starts to click together. Bruce is fucking Batman. Fucking Bruce?! Oh my god that’s why Batman can get all those gadgets. It makes total sense! And that means Dick was… Oh my god Dick was the former Robin, holy shit. What the fuck. You look at Jason and you want yell, scream, punch, not because you’re angry at him, but because you’re livid at Bruce for allowing this. They’re just kids! Jason hugs you from behind, startling you from your thoughts and says. “You aren’t mad, are you?”

You turn to look at him and gently cup his cheeks before saying. “No. No, I could never be mad at you. It’s not your fault. But Bruce-“

He holds your hands and puts them down before saying. “Bruce is doing his best. He’s been helping us. You saw how angry and how he’d used to be so angry.”

You then argue with him. “He’s still angry!”

Jason rolls his eyes and continues. “And I’ve been learning to control myself. I just, please. I like doing this. I get to help people-“

You raise your voice, not at him, but because you’re trying to plead for him to see things your way. “You can help people in different ways! You can volunteer-“

He then shouts as he looks deep into your eyes. “You know that’s not enough! Look at us! Look at why we’re here. It’s because it’s never enough. Look at how they dismissed your dad’s murder so easily! They closed the case in less than a month! Something was clearly going on there!”

You turn away from him, putting one hand on your waist and using the other to pinch the bridge of your nose. Jason continues and says. “If that really worked, neither of us would’ve been adopted by Bruce-“

You try to walk away from him but he quickly blocks your path and grabs your wrist. “Y/n please, it’s for the good of-“

“But what about you? I know you think it’s good, but is it? You’re 13-“

He interrupts and says. “I’m turning 14-“

You sarcastically say. “Yeah because that makes a WORLD of difference, yeah, sorry I didn’t realise you could pay your taxes and shit Mr. 14 year old.”

Jason’s hold on your wrist tightens and he argues. “Whatever! Look this is my choice-“

You interrupt him this time. “Really? Because to me it looks like Bruce is being insane, carless and-“

Jason growls back. “You take that back y/n-“

“No! This is actually insane Jason, he is making you fight people like the fucking killer clown, that scarecrow dude with the fear gas-“

“It’s actually a toxin-“ He grumbles under his breath, but you hear it. All this back and forth is driving you up the wall. You finally snap and start yelling.

“WHO THE FUCK CARES JASON THE FACT IS THAT YOU SHOULD BE SAFE, YOU SHOULD BE HERE, HAVING FUN, BEING A KID, NOT HAVING THE WORLD OR PEOPLE’S LIVES ON YOUR-“

You then realise that he’s looking at you scared, his hands are even shaking. You remember what he said about his dad. How he used to yell and beat him when he got drunk. You know this. You promised him you’d never yell at him, that you’d always love and care for him. Listen to him. But right now you’re yelling. You’re yelling at your baby brother, it doesn’t matter what you’re saying, or whether you meant to or not. You still yelled at him. Guilt floods your systems and the anger in your chest has changes into a heavy weight in the pit of your stomach. You slowly reach for him as you gently call his name but he smacks your hand away and runs out the room. You feel awful, how could you do that to him? You were angry and frustrated but you know better. You’re his safe house, you’re supposed to protect him. You turn around and try to chase after him but you bump into Luke. Seeing your panicked state and wide eyes he looks at you worried and asks. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

You’re about to say exactly what happened but, it’s his secret. It’s not your place to tell. You’re angry, but you aren’t stupid. This isn’t a secret you can just tell, you might trust Luke but Jason doesn’t know him as well as you do. You sigh and just give him a general overview of what just happened. Luke looks at you sadly and says. “Maybe you should give him some time-“

In a panicked tone you trip over your words but manage to get out. “But I- I have to apologise, I need to- I need to fix this! Luke, I’m supposed to-“

He grabs your shoulders and says. “Calm down. I know you’re scared that this will drive a wedge between you two, and honestly it might. I’m not gonna lie, but I also know that you both love each other a lot. You two are like two peas in a pod, partners in crime, however you wanna say it. He knows you didn’t mean to hurt him, of course you should still apologise but… Yeah just. Give him some space. He’ll come around-“

You then pause and then weakly say. “And what if he doesn’t? What if he decides I’m-“

Luke rolls his eyes and then says. “And what if you explode tomorrow. Look, it’s going to be fine. I know it.”

So you wait. And wait. And wait. Two whole weeks passes of him avoiding you. You try to talk to him but he always leaves without a word. It hurts. The knowledge that you hurt him so badly that he won’t talk to you, makes your heart twist with frustration at yourself. You try your best to give him space, but as the days pass it gets harder and harder to stay put. Especially when you know what he’s doing at night.

You have a dream again, maybe because you’re stressed. But this feels worse. You wake up, lying down on the beach. You get up with a groan and see you’re at the same beach that your other dreams took place in. However this time you see foot prints all over the beach. Some of them bird like, some of them look like normal human foot prints. And some of them look… Unnatural. You stand there looking around before you hear a soft crying behind you. It has an owl mask, you kneel onto the floor and ask the kid. “Hey, what’s wrong-“

She mumbles something you don’t catch. You pause and try to ask her to repeat herself when she repeats what she says. You barely catch what she says so you ask again. She whispers. “It hurts.”

Before you can ask what hurts she repeats herself a bit louder. “It hurts.”

You start to see where this is going so you start to back off but bump into another child as you walk backwards. You recognise this one is a boy and at the same time they repeat the words ‘It hurts’. You try to back away from them but you only find two more children blocking your way. Every time you turn away, more of them appear. They’re all different, all shapes and sizes, the only common factor between these kids are the fact all of them seem to be under 15.

They keep repeating the phrase, and with every time they say it they grow louder. You try to cover your ears but it does nothing. They’re surrounding you now, they’re screaming, pleading for you to help them, to save them. You feel your pants being tugged and that’s when you see that more kids are coming up from the sand. But they’re not climbing up, no, they’re pulling you down. The sand beneath your feet start to loosen, making it that much easier for them to pull you down with them. You try to pry then off you but like a hydra every kid you pry off, three more take it’s place. You scream for them to let you go, but none of them listen. You start to see flashes of visions, of children and needles, of people in masks, of a dark ballroom and an altar on the other side of the room. The sand is up to your waist now, numerous small hand clawing at your skin, leaving trails of blood in their wake. Their hands start to reach your face, their hands covered in your blood as they clamour to drag you into sand, grabbing and scratching where they can reach. The sand is now right under your chin. You get your hand free to try to pry yourself out, but it doesn’t work. The last thing you see is an owl as your mouth and lungs start to fill with sand.

You wake up with a gasp and start coughing out sand, you run to your bathroom sink as you throw up more sand as well at last night’s dinner. You hear someone coming into your room, and in your panicked state you grab the soap dispenser. As the person tries to come in you swing at him, the person dodges and you let out an animalistic growl and follow the person. Your eyes are unfocused and you can barely see, it’s like you can see enough to move but not enough to recognise anything. You hear something, like someone’s talking, but it’s so muddled that it seems like distorted noise. You swing again and the person dodges again, but you catch them off guard as you throw it straight at their face which nearly hits the intruder’s, but instead it hits the wall behind him. You tackle the stranger but they use that force against you and throws you onto the ground. They pin you to the ground with great difficulty as you groan and growl like an animal, the intruder then jumps off you and makes a run to your bed. You follow and as you’re grabbing and lifting you’re the brown thing by a bigger thing over your head to smash into the intruder’s head, you hear your daddy’s voice.

You freeze and your eyes start to clear up, you can see again. You’re huffing and puffing, you the put your bedside table on the ground. You’re room is mostly okay, if not a bit messy because of the fighting. You look to your bed and see that Jason’s looking at you with wide eyes with your Oliver plushie in his hands. You start to piece together what happened and sigh before you stretch your body lightly. Jason then yells at you. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”

You groan and then say. “It just happens sometimes-“

Jason’s eyes widen further and he continues. “SOMETIMES!? You were acting like some backed up rabid animal! And that’s normal?!”

You turn around and massage your temples before saying. “Really? And you’re so much better, Mr. ‘Boy wonder’? Look if you came here to judge me-“

Jason makes you turn around and is about to yell again but stops himself. Instead he lets out a sigh and pulls you into a hug. You’re a bit surprised but you hug him back you two stand there for a moment in silence. The two of you let go and you take a step back from him, he gives you a melancholy look before calming himself down fully. He takes another moment to think and then says. “I get it. We both have secrets. I just… I don’t know. I’m sorry for avoiding you, and I’m sorry for running-“

You interrupt him, grabbing his hand and try to assure him. “Jason, no! You had every right to do that. I’m sorry I couldn’t control myself I just, recently it’s been harder to. I’m not saying it to excuse myself, I’m saying it to explain myself. And I was so frustrated, I… Jason I want you to be safe. And what you’re doing… I can’t protect you from that. That made me angry and scared, and the way you kept brushing off my concerns just left me feeling more worried and scared. I love you so much Jason. We may not be related by blood, but you matter to me more than anyone else. Well not anyone else, you’re a very close third to Luke.”

Jason chuckles at that, he then brushes his hair out of his face before saying. “Yeah, I get that, I’m sorry about that. It’s just I… I know. It’s dangerous. Of course it is. You don’t have to tell me that. But I have to, cause if it’s not me, who will? Who’s gonna protect the kids that are going through the stuff we went through?”

You look at into his eyes and that’s when you know, he’s not gonna quit this. No matter what you say. You cup his cheeks and tear up, your baby, your little brother. It brings you so much pride, so much pain and tremendous amount of grief to your heart knowing that every night you’re going to bed, he’s going out there to fight criminals and villains. People who don’t care that he’s just a kid. That’s when you let out a shaky sigh and let the tears run down. You kiss the edge of his hairline and really look at him. You look at his hooded eyes with beautiful brown irises, like the sweetest milk chocolate, his fluffy black hair which you run your left hand runs through, his full cheeks, the permanent little smirk on his face, which makes you smile. You chuckle wetly as you squish his cheeks as he chuckles back. You exhale shakily before saying. “It’s like I’m sending you off to war. Is there any chance I can make you change your mind?”

He chuckles at that and shakes his head as he looks back at you tearfully. You nod and softly say. “I thought so.”

You let go of him and you get a tissue to wipe your face. Once your face is dry you go back to him and say. “I’m not gonna stop you. I don’t think I’d be able to anyways.”

You both chuckle at the before you continue. “But I want to help. Whatever you or Bruce want me to do I’ll do. Well less Bruce, more you. I want to do my best to keep you safe. Just because you’re a vigilante doesn’t change that. And I want you to promise me,” You say as you put up your right hand with your pinkie out. “No more secrets. Please.”

He stares at your hand and then at you before asking. “Are you serious-“

“Just take the damn pinkie Jason.” You say with exasperatedly.

He rolls his eyes and then takes it with his own pinkie. You then say. “Promise me, promise me that if there’s anything and I mean anything that is potentially life threatening or changing you will tell me.”

He pauses, thinking about it for a moment before saying. “I pinkie promise to not keep secrets that could be potentially life changing or threatening from you.”

You nod, and before you release his pinkie you quickly add in. “Or else I get a free punch.”

“Hey! That’s not what we-“

“Well I guess you should tell the truth then to avoid getting punched then.” You say with a smirk.

He then rolls his eyes before you pull him into a hug and say. “I love you. So much. You’re my one and only brother-“

“What about Dic-“

You then interrupt him with. “He doesn’t count.”

Jason laughs at that and then says. “I love you too. Until I take my last breath.”

——————————

Tag list: @simpingpandas @randomlyappearingartist @birbtweettweet @soulsire @crazycaoticsimp

I hope you guys liked it! And thanks for waiting patiently! Also I still need a beta reader, not to like edit or anything just to read it over and like critique my stuff. But yeah, this chapter took longer as well as like became longer than I anticipated. I was initially thinking this would be the chapter that I, well, you know. But it didn’t. We’ll also see either Kori and Barbara in the next chapter or so. And if you guys want to see like Ethan again let me know! Because this might be your last chance :)

[kingmaxstatic]

Goodmorning, Goodbye and Goodnight: A Post About Farewells.

... How do you break away from something or a piece of yourself for so long? Or at the very least, do so in the public eye?

Let's not beat around the bush.

I'm not happy in the Sonic fandom at the moment.

(More below the post)

So let me make this PERFECTLY CLEAR I have not fallen out of love for Sonic. I still adore Sonic and I will more than continue to enjoy it!

But I'm unsure if that enjoyment can really be.. public.. for the time being.

For a while I've always couldn't help but notice that the fandom is a bundle of bickerers. Makes sense. Most of us here are ND and VERY opinionated!

But this all came to ahead when I was watching a video about Amy Rose. And as I watched, as interested as I was. A video dissecting her current writing I realized something...

I was fucking miserable!

Why do I CARE so much about other people's opinions about something I enjoy? Even if I cringe at that one bumblecast clip of Ian saying "he wishes he could redesign Amy".

Even IF I understand the concern.

I still LOVE Modern Amy! I was letting this video give me insight, yes but it also made me feel guilt for even LIKING IDW's take on Amy (and IDW in general).

Infact guilt is something I've felt A LOT in the fandom.

Shit man, Starline is my FAVORITE character in sonic, period. But it feels like both the fandom (and the writers, to an extent) want to guilt you into not liking him.

That liking him is some moral failing on YOUR part? (Literally Ignoring the fact we've literally had a few years to grow attached pre-imposter syndrome and that he didn't just magically appear post-Chao Race Arc)

Yes, Starline sucks. Yes, he (in canon) used two random mobians for cyborg stuff. I know this. He's still an enjoyable character and I don't excuse his canon actions. It's even why in my own canon of him Imposter syndrome isn't canon.

I'm tired of the stress, man. I'm tired of not enjoying Starline. I haven't been able to properly enjoy him in a wile.

For my birthday I actually bought a Bad Guys physical copy!

And I have not touched it at all.

The stress of keeping up with this fandom has actually caused me literal anxiety shivers. I don't have fun any more. There's just.. too much discourse.

And I think it's best for me if I take a step back from it. At least.

So.. What Happens Now?

Well! What happens now is that I take a public step back from the fandom! Like I said I still very much enjoy Sonic.. I just don't think that enjoyment will be AS public any more. Gush about it with friends! Play the games! Draw art.. For Myself!

This doesn't mean I won't be keeping a close eye on my sonic moots (you haven't gotten rid of me JUST yet!) but it does mean I'll probably start blocking tags. Taking some breathing room. Finding that love for Sonic again on my OWN time. Be a lil selfish with it!

I still love and adore my ocs (and they'll still be around on Toyhouse and Art Fight!) But their stories are mine to share.. and sometimes I can just.. not share them!

What happens to this Blog?

SHIT MAN! I'll still be around! I probably just won't be posting in the sonic tag any time soon. I'm in OTHER fandoms right now (Nicktoons, Crash, Etc) If you like my writing and my art In THIS fandom surely you'll enjoy it in others!/pos

Even if those fandoms are more.. obscure to say the least? This Blog, at it's core, has always been ABOUT multifandom stuff and It feels like it's finally returning to that!

Nature is healing! KingMaxStatic is finally posting about WEIRD fandoms only 3 people know about again!!

What Happens To Starvoltz?

Though not an as.. urgent question. It's one I feel has held a lot of weight, at least to me. I know people are GENUINELY such big fans of Starvoltz and I think it's been the ONE BIG THING keeping me back from making me step back from the fandom...

So... I'm killing both Starline and Voltz off..../j (I would never)

I still LOVE and ADORE Starline and Voltz! They mean the world to me (and even the MOON to me!) But over the course of the past few months I've felt a nagging GUILT about them.. and I don't want to feel that anymore. I want to ADORE Starvoltz like I used to...

and In order for me to do that I GOTTA step back.

If you wanna get a lil cute about it, you can think about it like the two going on a honey moon or a vacation!

If you've made it thus far.. thank you. Genuinely. Thank you for understanding! I hope you understand. I love sonic, I will always love sonic. But I need my own space to love Sonic.

I suppose maybe like the main character I need to be free.

Free like the wind.

[beauty-and-passion]

TMA - Chapters 101-110: Killing Jon is a national sport

Great news, everyone: we reached the 100th MAG and we’re officially in the second half of the TMA series!

We learned a lot until now, but there are still a ton of mysteries left, a Stranger to defeat, a ritual that will destroy the world, and a creepy puppet lady who (hopefully!) just wants to talk to Jon.

Let’s find out more.

<< Main Masterlist <- Previous post

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MAG 101 - Another Twist

Okay, I was expecting something to happen, but not this.

*

Nikola Orsinov is the best

I love how funny, cute and creepy she is. She’s a perfect package of fun - and the British accent makes her lady-like too, so she’s even more adorable.

Do you want proof of that?

Proof one:

She talks to Elias like a well-educated lady

The way she repeats “So, Elias, can I call you Elias?” is hilarious

Don’t worry, Nikola: maybe the other supernatural beings call Elias “The Eye”, but for a nice lady like you, I think he’ll gladly accept to be on a first-name basis.

She talks to Elias as if Jon is a toddler

Proof two:

But sure, of course my dear! Why search for a weird powerful skin everywhere, when you have a skin full of wet cat energy to use?

And also, why not kill Jon? This season is entirely dedicated to supernatural shit trying to kill Jon.

Proof three:

She disses Jon like a queen for his bad skincare routine.

If the Unknowing fails because of Jon’s bad skin, I will die laughing on the spot and TMA will automatically become best series ever.

*

Best Boyo is back for one reason and one reason only

And just when I asked myself if we would see a full skincare treatment, Michael appears. Finally, my boyo came back from… well, from wherever he was, I assume.

And why does he come back?

This is truly the season of supernatural shits trying to kill Jon! TMA is officially best series ever.

And what’s Michael’s reason?

He doesn’t want the Circus to win

He doesn’t want the Archives to win

He wants revenge for what Gertrude/the Archives/the Eye and his gang did to him

And speaking of this…

*

The Great Twisting

The Distortion and its acolytes tried to do a “Great Twisting” - which seems like what the Unknowing is for the Stranger.

It makes me wonder: is this a normal thing, for these supernatural entities, to try and “ascend” into our world through some sort of ritual? The Distortion tried through this Great Twisting, the Stranger is trying to do the same through the Unknowing: when will the Eye try to do the same? Did it already?

*

Gertrude’s plan and Michael’s role

Gertrude’s plan to stop this Great Twisting was simple yet effective: she forced the Distortion to incarnate. She gave it a physical body. And that made the entire ritual fall apart.

Makes sense. The Distortion is a force of the unknown, something unidentified: tying it to an identity, something clear, goes against its very essence, so it's understandable it would fail to "ascend" as Great Evil Godly Terror of Lies and Deceit and Unknown or whatever.

Now, I know Michael said that poor Michael Shelley (we finally got his full name!) was “disposable” and that’s why Gertrude sacrificed him… but honestly, I don’t think that.

Sure, Gertrude was probably ready to do anything to stop the Great Twisting and she was willing to sacrifice Michael Shelley. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t trust him.

If I were her and if I had to stop a powerful godly horror by giving it a physical body, I wouldn't pick someone just because he's "prepared" and "disposable". Even the most prepared guy could crumble and fail on a mission - or decide to not get the job done and run away. And disposable people are not a guarantee of success.

My main criteria would be to find someone I can trust. Someone I know won't mess things up. Someone who will follow my map to the end, do what he has to do and be strong enough to deal with the godly horror for years and years to come. Someone I can leave with the Distortion, knowing I can trust them with said god.

*

Becoming VS incarnating

It’s really interesting the difference in how the Distortion talks about the Great Twisting…

… vs how it’s like being incarnated:

Once again, it makes me wonder: is this what the Unknowing will be for the Stranger? A “joy of becoming”, something “crossing the threshold” into itself, as if the ritual is making the barrier between our world and theirs thinner? It’s fascinating to imagine how it would make an entity feel so good, so complete.

While speaking of incarnations, Jude, Michael Crew and even Jane Prentiss seemed to imply it was a great, marvelous feeling: they all talked about it as being finally complete.

But the Distortion describes it as something unpleasant. Could it be because the incarnation was being “forced” and not requested by the Distortion itself? After all, the Distortion wasn’t searching for Michael Shelley: it was Michael who went into it.

*

Micheal’s identity crisis

This backstory explains Michael’s confusion regarding his own identity much better, as well as why he keeps referring to himself as Michael, but also not as Michael. And it makes clearer why Helen resurfaces while Michael sinks in.

In a way, it kinda reminds me of a DID system, with personality states who are all part of a whole, but also moved by their own feelings and ideas. The Distortion seems to work the same way, even though the people inside it are not the ones they once were, but only shadows of them.

Speaking of Helen Richardson: when I checked MAG 47 to remember a bit about her, I noticed the first thing she did, was to draw a map. A fucking map of the Distortion she shows to Jon.

Could this be the reason why she managed to “resurface”? Because she also had a map, like Michael Shelley? That would be very cool.

*

Peter Lukas is back again

I knew these goddamn Lukas were always here, playing a role alongside the Eye and the Archives. Now we see another confirmation: Peter Lukas helped Gertrude against the Twisting.

Soooo… should we trust the guy? I don’t know, this family is too suspicious at this point.

*

The only one!

And finally, for the first time, a supernatural entity gives Jon a compliment.

After being told he’s a bad choice, he’s stupid, he’s rude and his skincare routine sucks, finally a supernatural entity tells him something nice.

Sure, it’s in between the “I’m going to kill you” discourse, but still counts.

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MAG 102 - Nesting Instinct

I can’t believe it: is Jon finally realizing Elias does nothing besides sitting on his lazy ass?

JON ACKNOWLEDGES ELIAS IS USELESS! The world is beautiful and I can’t stop laughing.

Ahahaha, he “overreacted”! He killed him live on tape and that’s what he considers “overreacting”! Oh my gosh, Elias, never change <3

But let’s put Elias being amazing on the side: we finally have more clues regarding the Unknowing! And it’s as fascinating as I hoped!

So, it’s a dance, with dancers and a “prima ballerina” (aka the “Danseuse Étoile”) which is our favorite creepy lady Nikola. This explains the skin too: of course, since it’s a ballet they’re staging, they need the right costumes and everyone should follow a specific role, do the right steps and keep the right position. I really want to see this ballet taking place and find out how Jon is going to stop it.

Ooookay, so Jon is getting omniscient superpowers. Which is good if you’re the Eye, but not so good if you still want to keep a semblance of humanity.

I said Elias appreciation time was over, but I lied: it’s always Elias appreciation time.

Also, bless Melanie for trying everything to kill the motherfucker. She has more balls than everyone else, I stan her. But I also stan Elias being alive and being a bitch, sorry Melanie.

So Jon calms her down, thus proving he’s now Elias’ bagman. They’re a weirdly powerful couple and I would love to see them together in action. But I also know that Elias loves sitting on his ass too much, to get up and be a man of action, so if they pair up together, I imagine Jon would be left on his own to deal with cosmic powers that want him dead. And since I don’t want him dead, it’s better if he’s paired with someone who can properly defend him.

But hey, I suppose my worries about his life will soon be over, because his cosmic, omniscient powers are growing even more. Now, he’s able to understand languages he never spoke before. I was just asking myself why this statement, when he revealed it was all written in French. Nice way to surprise the reader, Mr. Sims.

Okay, so the Hive (and its ilk) is part of the Filth. Gosh, I fear I will soon need a chart or a table of sorts, to put together every entity into their respective “family”. But I’m also scared to search for one now, because I don’t want to get any spoilers.

_______________________________

MAG 103 - Cruelty Free

A statement about an evil, supernatural pig - possibly connected with the supernatural meat. But also not, because pigs can and will eat you, if you stand still a bit too long, supernatural or not.

And I’m pretty sure of that because my uncle has pigs. Luckily for him, his pigs have always been big cowards and run away as soon as they see a human getting closer to the pen. But considering how voraciously they eat and how easily they can break open fruits and vegetables, no matter how hard they are… yep, they would easily smash and crunch human flesh as if nothing.

So no, this statement isn’t much scary, but rather something that might happen anywhere, anytime.

Well, aside from the weirdly demonic possession that pushes you to open the cage and weird long gazes from a pig who wants to either kill you or become your bestie. I definitely didn’t expect the evil pig to snuggle with Mr. Anderson like a house cat. It was funny, though.

And right after that, we get a glimpse of how Jon’s omniscient powers are working (he knows Kurt Anderson will be useful) and especially how his “persuasion powers” are working.

I’ll admit it: it was pretty cool to see Jon release the wet cat energy, make his question and get the exact answer he wants. And yes, I know this shouldn’t be a good thing, because it only proves Jon is connecting to the Eye even more… but it’s so cool! He asked Kurt his darkest secret and used it to bribe him for those documents and he did it so well! Urgh, I know I should be scared for him, but the coolness is too much to ignore it.

Oh my, the best action couple is back! So Jon talks to Daisy in the tunnels beneath the Archives, because Elias won’t see them there. Why?

Oh my gosh, Elias does something in his life. He schedules. Schedules what, how much time he’s going to spend doing nothing, aside from watching everyone with his Eye powers?

Here it is, the constant of this season: everyone wants to kill Jon. If this man survives this season, he will survive everything.

Killing urges aside, Daisy will take care of things while Jon is away dealing with shit. My question is: why are you going away without telling anything to your colleagues, Jon? Hadn’t you realized you have to cooperate with them? Still trying to protect them from you and Elias, by keeping them away?

But I can also understand his choice: his colleagues all work there and if Elias can see and listen to everything, I don’t think there’s something that stops him from looking into their minds and simply knowing of Jon’s plan.

_______________________________

MAG 104 - Sneak Preview

Oh my gosh, I was expecting Tim’s mental breakdown maybe, but not some of his background! And I wasn’t expecting to find out that Tim had a goddamn brother and he lost said brother to the Circus, because another evil clown stole his skin!

Again, this explains a lot: why Tim came to the Institute, why he knew about Robert Smirke’s architecture… and I’m afraid it tells us a lot about his future too:

If Tim had a “DEAD” sign on his head before, now the sign is flashing too. Tim is basically dead. RIP Tim, it has been a pleasure and an honor to know you.

But before dying, there is something Tim must still do, which is a wonderful back-and-forth with Elias:

I love Elias, but I love Tim too. He got my heart with the “statement of Joooe Spooky” from season 1, he still gets my heart with sarcasm.

And Elias tells Tim to stay away from the Unknowing. Uhm… very evil, I guess? I mean, he has eeeevil plans, but he’s also trying to save Tim’s life and ignore he’s already dead.

I think it just confirms Elias is the best.

But Tim doesn’t care: he knows he will die, so he’s trying to find a way to die, somehow:

It’s very sad I asked Elias the same thing two posts ago. But I suppose this just confirms my darkest fear: Tim will die. Maybe not because Elias will bash his head with a pipe, but he will. His days are numbered. And if he won’t die because of Elias, he will die by getting his revenge on the Circus.

And you know what? I would be okay with that. Because that would make Tim happy and if Tim is happy, I’m happy too.

Also, he will finally be able to rest and he deserves it.

_______________________________

MAG 105 - Total War

Okay, so despite the promising title, this was an useless statement.

Sure, the imagery of the wandering soldier, followed by an army of dead people who keep killing everyone around him, while he waits for them to finally kill him too is interesting. But, again, it’s useless for the plot.

And I know Jon acknowledged it too, just like I know we needed him to go to the Pu Songling Research Centre because the author wanted to:

show us how far Jon is going, while following Gertrude’s steps

show us his powers are growing, because now he can understand all languages

casually tell us Gerard Keay is alive?

I mean:

"I’ve chased dead end to dead end until I finally give up. I-I mean, what am I actually looking for? Gerard Keay, after he faked his death? Some long confession he left tucked away in a library somewhere, telling me the ancient chant I need to stop the Unknowing from coming to pass?"

Sure, this may be just Jon making assumptions, rather than him using his powers of absolute knowledge to reveal that my man Gerard didn’t die of a brain tumor, but he’s still alive and well. I know all of that.

However, I still cannot understand why Mr. Sims (the author, I mean) wasted one statement like this. This isn’t the first time he has done that and he did it waaaaay more in the first two seasons. But why is he still doing it? It’s weird, coming from someone with such a big attention to detail.

My possible explanations are always the same:

he liked this idea and didn’t want to discard it

he needed some fillers to reach the number of 120 episodes for season 3

this statement is somehow useful?

Even though I really doubt the third point is correct, because there have been some statements in seasons 1 and 2 that have been completely useless. Unless they all reconnect somehow by the end of the series, I doubt we will remember or consider them anymore.

_______________________________

MAG 106 - A Matter of Perspective

And just when I was ready to talk about space and solitude and this humongous creature that makes me think hey, maybe that’s the Vast… I get hit by a train of things happening all together.

Let’s start from the statement: Jan Kilbride was a familiar name, in fact Gertrude mentioned him in MAG 99. What happened to this guy? Well, aside from the weird space thing.

And speaking of that… since he talked about “existential vertigo” I felt the Vast was involved. Then “Mr. Fairchild” was mentioned and that only confirmed that yes, this is the Vast.

Mr. Fairchild chose this guy by referring to his psychiatric profile? Now I’m 200% sure there is a supernatural entity involved, this is the Vast and Mr. Fairchild was probably trying to find a new avatar for it. I mean, fucking Elias did the exact same thing and every other evil mastermind like him picks the right people by checking their psychiatric/psychological profiles.

So poor Jan Kilbride experienced the Vast the same terrifying way Robert did in MAG 21. Luckily for him, he wasn’t eaten by the universe like Robert was eaten by the sky, but it was pure luck, probably. Or maybe the universe returned to claim him, since Melanie couldn’t find anything about him and Gertrude mentioned him.

And just when I thought this was all, we got the best parts of the episode:

1) Gossip time

So let me get this straight: Martin’s crush is so obvious even the newcomers realized it 20 seconds after he introduced himself?

And they’re casually discussing Jon’s virginity like this? I am dying, please send help.

And then, as if the juicy gossip wasn’t enough, Melanie reveals Jon and Georgie used to date in the past?! So Georgie isn’t just a friend, she’s Jon’s ex! I hope Martin doesn’t know Jon hid at his ex’s house, or he would probably find a way to send another supernatural shit after her.

Don’t look at me like that: Martin is a cinnamon roll, but he’s also fucked up enough to do it.

Anyway, glad to know Jon and Martin are the canon couple. They’re not yet, sure, but it’s a matter of time. Sooner or later, these two will end up together and I can’t wait for it. I just hope Martin won’t kill Jon’s ex in the meantime.

2) Elias’ performance review

Elias pretends to do his job: that’s hilarious just like that.

But hey, once in a while, even Elias does something, so why not do Melanie’s performance review?

He asks Melanie how she find her job - aside from “being forced to stay here, trapped by a psychopath”. So it’s basically like every other job, I suppose she doesn’t have much else to say.

Melanie tells Elias he “sat up here lurking”, which is just a nicer way to say “You sit on your ass 24/7 doing absolutely nothing”. Glad to know everyone is acknowledging Elias’ uselessness, I said it since season 1.

In pure Pinky and the Brain style, Melanie does the same thing she does every night, which is plotting Elias’ demise.

MELANIE TOO CHALLENGES ELIAS TO KILL HER! Oh my god, what’s with all those characters and death wishes? Stop asking to get killed!

Ivy Meadows from MAG 36! Glad to see all characters are reconnecting to some places and/or previous statements!

So Melanie’s father died there, killed by that thing inside (the Filth?). And since Elias is a good boss and a caring guy, he wants Melanie to know the truth, so he fucking shows her the horrible way her father died.

And he threatens her to haunt her forever with that knowledge, if she doesn’t stop interfering.

Now, I know I said Melanie must be protected at all costs… but come on, this guy is an absolute bitch, how can I not stan him? Just look at this smug bastard, how he goes from being terrifying, to pretending to care with the “Oh take your time, take the day off even!”, to a hint of a devious smile when he says her performance “has been... satisfactory”. Fuck you Elias, I hate you and I love you.

_______________________________

MAG 107 - Third Degree

Ah, so Gertrude was arrested right after Gerard’s death, because she was caught in the morgue “over the body of Gerard Keay, reading from a large, strangely shaped book”.

Well, glad to know my man Gerard is alive and well. The rebel boy of my heart will come back, I still cannot believe it <3

Also, all my previous points regarding the useless statements have been thrown out of the window, because Mr. Sims found a perfect way to put them in. They’re still filler, sure, but now their presence makes sense: Jon needs them. Physically.

However, why does he need one, now? I mean, he’s doing research and he’s already getting stories from people, while retracing Gertrude’s steps. Maybe those stories aren’t big and satisfactory enough for his new Eye powers?

The statement per se, despite being useless, is also very creepy. Is the police officer an avatar of the Flame? In that case, it makes the whole interrogation even better because it would be the first time (since Michael’s conversation with Sasha) that a supernatural entity in its purest form talks with a human (Jon is not exactly a human anymore) - and even asks “Who am I?”, by knowing the human knows too. Very cool, very creepy, love it.

But also: is that police officer the same Max Mustermann we meet later on? Can Elias see the future now? I won’t be too surprised, considering the clever, cunning bitch he is.

And speaking of him: Jon ran away, he’s going all over the world in his research, saying almost nothing to not let others know where he is… and Elias casually sends him an envelope to his last location, with a statement to give him to "eat". How can I not love this guy.

Okay, Julia Montauk was NOT on my bingo card and Trevor Herbert even less. But oh gosh, it has been amazing to see them again!

First, she casually kidnaps Jon because why not - and hey, at least it loks like she doesn’t want to kill him.

Then, Mustermann is back and as soon as I read the name, I knew I’ve heard it before - and I was right! It was the placeholder name for unidentifiable men! The same from MAG 34! Back then it was for a woman (Erika Mustermann), while now it’s for a man, but still. Pretty cool comeback.

And I’m really happy to see Trevor Herbert again, he was such a cool guy! I’m very pleased to see two secondary characters cooperating. Until now, all the people who came with statements barely served any other purpose, aside from “people who have a story”. So seeing two of them being present, doing stuff and knowing each other is pretty cool. It makes the whole TMA world feel more alive.

I’m hyped now, I want to see what they’ll do together.

_______________________________

MAG 108 - Monologue

So, a statement about an actor who loves monologuing and is haunted by a creepy theater mask which is actually nothing physical aside from an image of the solitude he’s surrounded by and can’t escape from.

I’m still not sure which kind of supernatural shit is this, but it reminds me of how isolated Martin felt at the beginning of this season, which is not a very good sign.

Even worse, right after that, Peter Lukas casually enters the room and has a chat with Martin and what the fuck is happening here.

PETER: Ah, I see. I'm sorry to have disturbed you. It’s one of Elias’ little jokes. (...) PETER: Did he suggest you record a statement today? One that mentioned me? (...) PETER: Right. I have a meeting with him today. He suggested ... I’m sure he’s watching from his office, grinning from ear to ear.

Ah, now I get it: it was all because Elias was getting bored. Why not scare the shit out of his own employees, by sending his friend to collect complaints and suggestions? Sure, of course, that’s the most sensible thing anyone would do.

So Peter Lukas is:

friendly vibes

a weird supernatural shit by his own admission

Elias’ bestie

the umpteenth person to acknowledge Elias does nothing all day (“Elias Bouchard getting his hands dirty. Well, well, it must be the end times.”)

the Archives’ complaints department

Elias’ boss apparently, considering he can scold the bitch for wasting each other’s time

So if we associate the story with the guy… I don’t know, it looks like he can create “pockets” of solitude in which he can trap people. Maybe that’s what he did to Brian on MAG 100 too and the fog was another supernatural shit.

There’s still so much to know about these Lukas and this Peter is interesting. I want to know more about him - even though I fear him a bit too: if Elias told the others to not interfere with this family, there should be a very valid reason.

But also: they’re besties. So… I don’t know, I think I want to see them interacting.

_______________________________

MAG 109 - Nightfall

A good backstory, we needed it.

Or more like… a connection story? As Jon said, when we left Julia Montauk and Trevor Herbert, they were doing completely different things. And yes, I forgot he was supposed to die. But can you blame me? No one really dies in this series.

Well, except the few who dies. And the people killed by Elias. The man may be lazy, but when it’s killing time, at least he makes it sure the people stay dead.

So Trevor was following a guy he thought was a vampire, but it came out he was one of the guys related to Julia’s story. The closed eye symbol is connected to the People's Church of the Divine Host, right? And Basira was reading something about it in the previous statement. Something regarding:

an eclipse on Ny-Ålesund

the relationship between Edmond Halley and John Flamsteed

which I thought were not important, but now I suppose they will be. Also because I thought these people were all somehow related to the supernatural shit with eyes aka the Eye. Will these people come back too?

Mustermann was involved in the Unknowing? Well, it makes sense: he’s an unidentified person, of course he’s in cahoots with the Stranger and the unknown. What will they do, then? Will Jon interrogate him? Will he find out more? Will we finally meet Gerard?

_______________________________

MAG 110 - Creature Feature

A statement about a director obsessed with a non-existent film regarding a huge man-eating spider, who casually finds the book this supposed movie is based on.

Yes, I was sure it was a Leitner the exact moment he said it.

Oh my gosh Martin, I love you you huge dork <3 but also Basira is right and wrong at the same time: sure, standing with a cup of tea does nothing really useful… but let’s not forget Martin is the same guy who found out how to kill worms with a corkscrew, so maybe it’s better when he cares rather than when he leans into insanity.

Also, I wonder if we will keep this alternating between Jon and Martin throughout the next episodes. It’s entertaining to see both sides: the Archivist dealing with random shits related to the Unknowing, while the Archives deal with Elias.

And I cannot believe it, but we have an explanation regarding Elias’ lazy ass. We have a fucking explanation about why Elias does nothing all day.

They’re telling me Elias did absolutely nothing for two seasons and spends his time sitting on his ass 24/7… because he’s busy listening and watching everywhere? He can literally do nothing, otherwise he won’t know what’s happening?

That’s surprisingly clever and I’m angry it makes so much sense: this goddamn fucker literally cannot work or he won’t feed his supernatural powers! I hate him and I love him.

And yes, I will keep using his laziness to make fun of him anyway. It's too funny.

_______________________________

In conclusion

Every episode gives me a more valid reason to stan Elias and hate him at the same time. Now there’s apparently a way to get past him and I cannot wait to see what the gang will do. I’m excited ✨

But I’m even more excited to see the possible Jon-Gerard meeting. My man is alive, the rebel boy, the one who beat the shit out of Leitner: he’s alive and I can’t wait to see him again.

The next ten episodes will also be the last of this season and I’m both scared and hyped to see how it will end: how will the gang stop the Unknowing? Will Tim get his revenge and die heroically or will he survive despite the “DEAD” sign flashing on his head? Will Elias be a huge bitch once again? Will Melanie finally find a way to kill him? Will we see more of Peter “good vibes” Lukas? Will Jon come back from his world tour? Will Martin confess his feelings (as if no one already knows about them)?

We’ll find out next week. Until now, take care of yourself <3

-> Next post

(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

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[glitter-stained]

So a not fun fact about this, because I realise I said "this is particularly bad if you know how schizophrenia works" but I didn't expand on why that is.

So!

Schizophrenia Spectrum Disorders (yup, it's not just one; let's call them SzSD) share this particularity with Bipolar Disorders that they seemingly appear out of thin air in early adulthood. Nowadays, we have a more precise understanding of the disorders and can retrace and check for precursor signs (called prodromes) but historically, and most importantly when speaking of the person's experience, SzSDs are a total upheaval of your life, especially since most first episodes lead to a hospitalisation in a psych ward. It's brutal, it's alienating, and it happens all at once.* Put a pin on that onset mode.📍

But what are SzSDs? According to the american conceptualisation of these disorders, they're basically chronic psychotic symptoms (positive symptoms) that manifest in early adulthood and are associated with cognitive and affective symptoms (negative symptoms). Note that psychosis is absolutely not specific to schizophrenia, it can happen in so many situations and disorders* but (according to American psychiatry) the chronic psychosis is what defines schizophrenia the most. Importantly: Schizophrenia is NOT Dissociative Identity Disorder. SzSDs have nothing to do with having different personalities, I've grown up with people calling Gollum from LOTR schizophrenic and that's just a completely incorrect representation.

What psychosis is, very basically, is either of those two (or both):

-delusions (aka the belief in something that has no ground in reality, like the sudden, unexplainable but unshakeable conviction that one's organs are rotting inside of oneself for example)

-hallucinations (aka a sensorial perception without object, like if I'm alone in my room and hearing voices. Note that if I were aware that those voices weren't real, they wouldn't be called hallucinations, those require to believe in their reality (making them de facto one of the mechanisms through which one can develop delusions). Note also that visual hallucinations are actually atypical in SzSDs; the most common type of hallucination in those disorders is auditory-verbal (basically hearing voices).

Now we know that Arkham Asylum has diagnosed Joker as "psychotic" (at least TKJ doesn't give us any more precise diagnosis. I'm pretty sure that we've seen Joker having psychotic symptoms in other comics that I can't be arsed to pull out now, feel free to fact-check me. But if we don't have a SzSDs diagnosis for the Joker, why does the narrative of TKJ harm people with SzSDs specifically?

Let's talk about the causes of schizophrenia (because it's the SzSD I know best, but I know it works the same for schizoaffective disorder and probably schizophreniform disorder at least). Now, schizophrenia has a very largely genetic origin. The predominant explanation to my knowledge is that genetics lead to in-utero changes in the architecture of the brain that don't manifest until the brain reorganizes itself in teenagehood, a reorganisation that would be atypical in schizophrenia, leading to the apparition of symptoms in early adulthood.

But schizophrenia onset is also called "traumatic" in origin. Now, traumatic here is meant in a larger sense than in PTSD: it can be any stressor from a traumatic event, to something like a breakup or, on one memorable occasion, a pair of planes crashing into the twin towers on TV. Also drugs (including alcohol). I'm very serious, if you have people in your family with schizophrenia, stay away from weed!

Now let's take that pin out from the SzSDs onset mode📍. If you've followed so far, this means that a person with schizophrenia, usually a young adult, will be confronted with a stressful event (or drug consumption) and have a first, brutal psychotic episode (with delusions and/or hallucinations). And because schizophrenia is a chronic disorder, once the first psychotic episode has happened, it's a lifetime of psychotic episodes (that can luckily be managed/prevented with neuroleptics) and neuropsychology to manage the cognitive symptoms at best...

That's right: when your genetics (a personal factor inherent to you) predispose you to it, all it takes is one to develop chronic psychosis is one bad day.

So what did Batman have to say about that again?

"So maybe ordinary people don't always crack. Maybe there isn't any need to crawl under a rock with all the other slimy things when trouble hits... Maybe it was just you, all this time."

Yeah.

Sometimes, when you're vulnerable, when you draw your lot at the genetic lottery, it takes one bad day. And that doesn't make you any weaker than anyone with any kind of genetic illness, it's not a moral of personal failure, it's just a disorder. It doesn't make you evil, or a slimy cowardly thing, It doesn't make you the Joker and it doesn't make you any less of of a person. It's just genes.

Fuck you, Alan Moore's Batman.

*for the purpose of keeping it short and because this isn't my speciality i'm simplifying a lot; there are actually two modes of entry in schizophrenia, i'm talking of the most classically known one here.

**starvation exhaustion fever depressive episodes manic episodes (bipolar) heatstroke brief psychotic episodes (often triggered by stress, substance abuse or birth-giving) substance abuse delirium substance withdrawal medicine personality disorders etc, etc. Oh and also normal non-pathological psychotic symptoms are a thing, some people just hear voices in their head without being mentally ill. To clarify.

The thing about the Killing Joke as a comic, Barbara's disgusting fridging aside, isn't just that it's nasty because it's a comic centered around the Joker's character (which is always gonna be psychophobic since the moment they decided to make "madness" his defining trait) or that it establishes his backstory following a psychophobic trope (especially since that trope is questioned in the story). It's not even entirely about how it blatantly does the amalgam between madness, specifically psychosis, and being evil/doing villainous things.

No, The Killing Joke is vile because the whole fucking point of the book is blaming mentally ill people's weak/evil character for "succumbing" to mental illness.

Like seriously, what happens in TKJ? We learn about how the Joker was "made", and Joker decides to turn Gordon to the evil side by traumatizing him "that's what the One Bad Day" thing is about. So he does a bunch of bullshit, shoots Barbara, strips her naked, might or might not have raped her, and shoots a bunch of pictures of her in that situation, and then kidnaps Gordon, also strips him, and forces him to see huge projections of those pictures. Then Batman comes, and later there's a fight, where Batman tells the Joker that Gordon is fine actually and the Joker is wrong, it doesn't take one bad day to succumb to psychosis as a way to escape reality, there was just something inherently wrong with the Joker specifically that caused him to develop psychosis.

Behold:

"crawl under a rock with all the other slimy things when trouble hits..." (To be clear, this is in 100% response to Joker's statement that psychosis is the valid response to the random brutality of reality, an escape to it. It's not me over interpreting something about villainy, god I wish, the entire comic is about Joker arguing that psychosis is the correct adaptation to a fucked up reality.) Batman is directly calling anyone with schizophrenia, schizoaffective disorder or any other form of psychosis "a slimy thing crawling under a rock when trouble hits." And that's the lesson we're supposed to learn from that! The Joker is wrong! We good people of strong hearts and good minds are normal and good and can pat ourselves on the back for being so much better and more resilient than those nasty little crazy freaks (and the circus freaks, oh my god the circus freaks) who are so cowardly and weak-minded; but look how magnanimous we are! We're still gonna extend a hand to help them crazy freaks once we've established our moral superiority! Because we're good, upstanding cops, and our habit of arresting criminals and putting them in the nastiest fucking asylum which doubles as a horrible prison works! Because we're so good!

Seriously, what is up with that? In what world is the wrongness of this comic not fucking obvious to everyone? Is this really your Batman? Your childhood hero? This is the guy the narrative (and dc in general) tells us we're supposed to be rooting for? How have we normalized psychophobia to the point I regularly see people praising this comic or saying it would have been good had Barbara's fridging not ruined it? No, what happened to Barbara didn't ruin shit! What happened to Barbara is nothing but one more indicator of the worth and respect Alan Moore holds for women in his writing, and I genuinely don't find him any better than Jim Starlin with the way he likes to write sexual assault on women, but the comic was already ruined because its message was already fundamentally disgusting.

And the worst part is it fucking gets worse if you know anything about how schizophrenia (or other schizophreniform disorders) develops. I can't imagine what it's like, picking up this comic as a person with schizophrenia. The suicide risk associated with schizophrenia is high as fuck, and with the way our society stigmatises that disorder, it's no fucking wonder. Reading that kind of book, it feels like some people are actively working to get those figures higher actually. I wonder if Moore is aware of the damage his comic does, if he even fucking cares. I wonder how many people have talked themselves out of getting help because they were afraid of acknowledging their mental health issues and "being like the Joker", or knew they weren't like the joker and concluded they weren't mentally ill. I wonder if people with schizophrenia have read this comic, thought back to the one bad day that lead to them developing psychosis, and wondered what was so wrong with them that they couldn't handle reality the way normal people can. People with schizophrenia are so much more at risk of being verbally or physically assaulted by someone else than of attacking someone else and so much more likely to be verbally or physically assaulted than your average joe. I wonder how many people feel justified in that kind of violence because they see a person struggling with delusions, visibly interacting with a hallucination or saying incoherent, absurd stuff and thought they were heroically intervening to stop a "dangerous psychotic individual" from doing harm. I wonder how much of this perception is influenced by the most famous mentally ill character of all times. Worst fucking comic I've ever read. That story is rotten to the core.

Seriously, fuck the Killing Joke.

[perfectharmonyloveschaos]

Why can I see this exact exchange happening between Ezra and Ursa after Ahsoka?

[sunsetsandsunshine]

If I may request a Rise fic!! I’m a huge sucker for comfort/cheer up tickles, so could you possibly write a disaster twins fic with Lee Leo and Ler Donnie where Leo’s been having a pretty bad day (because of what is your choice!) and ends up feeling self conscious about himself and stuff, so Donnie decides to cheer up his twin!! Please don’t feel rushed and make sure you’re taking care of yourself ^_^

~ 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜!!! ~

💜💙 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 💜💙

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙼𝚂𝙺𝙽𝚂𝙽𝙺𝙼𝙳𝙽𝚂𝙹 𝙽𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙴 𝙾𝙷 𝙼𝚈 𝙶𝙾𝚂𝙷 𝚈𝙾𝚄. 𝙶𝙴𝚃. 𝙼𝙴!!! 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝙻𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝙹𝙰𝙼!!! 𝙴𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚜…𝙶𝚘𝚍, 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢..𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎??? 𝙻𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎!!!˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟺,𝟹𝟿𝟺

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙳𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚍…𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚖𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝…𝙱𝚞𝚝 *𝙰𝙷𝙴𝙼* 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜:  @shut-up-jo @itzsana-kiddingmenow @aceofspades-doodles @ziipzeepzop-eez

@tmntheadforever123 @rice-cake-teen10 @aninabanina6969

@savemeafruitjuice @cedarrthefluffylee @saturnzskyzz @titters-and-tingles

@someone1348 @my-l0v3r-v3rse @snipersiniora @mistyandsnow

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙰𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚣𝚢…

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙷𝙴𝙴 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 🕺🏾✨💞🎶˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me again.” Leo grumbled under his breath as he rested his mouth on his palm, glancing away from his brother as he sighed loudly. 

“Well maybe if you weren’t so fucking reckless I wouldn’t need to.” Donnie growled lowly, glaring down at his twin.

“I’m not a baby, Don. I don’t need to be supervised like I’m some bomb triggered to explode.” The younger said in exasperation, lying down on his bed whilst grabbing a comic book to read off of his desk.

If Leo was going to be told off and scolded by his dear beloved brow-loving brother, he should at least have something to occupy himself with in the meanwhile. 

The softshell groaned eternally at his little brother’s action, quickly snatching the piece of literature out of the other’s hands and throwing it effortlessly to the ground. 

Uninterested lime green eyes locked with a determined yet fierce light golden, both of them refusing to look away or blink to show their dominance.

But after a while, the red eared slider grew more impatient, looking away again as he picked a hangnail on his thumb, “If you’re going to yell at me, can you just get it over with? I saw a reddit post predicting what’s going to happen in The Umbrella Academy season four and I need to read it.” 

“You can read that later, Nardo. I promise you, that reddit post isn’t going to fly away.” The elder said as he pinched the bridge of his snout, “What I need you to do right now is acknowledge what you did today was stupid, alright?” 

Leo looked away from his older brother, scoffing lightly, “I do stupid things all the time. What stupid action of mine are you wanting to scream at me for this time?” 

The softshell turtle took a couple deep breaths at that comment, drumming his fingers on his left arm in a soothing motion because he was NOT going to give into the urge of strangling his twin brother…

…No matter how much he deserved it.

“I’m not planning on screaming at you— that won’t help anyone or anything.” The purple banded turtle explained calmly…but you could see and tell he was starting to lose his paitence. 

“But you want to.” The red eared slider pressed on. 

“Leo…please. I don’t want to argue right now.” 

“We’re not arguing. We’re just kindly discussing my oh-so stupid descision that unfolded earlier today, right?” The younger twin smirked smugly, his eyes locking once again with his brother. 

When it came to arguments, the leader in blue always had this wonderful tactic to avoiding things: attempting to annoy the other person so much that they drop the subject they wanted to discuss with him completely.

It always worked with Raph…which the red eared slider didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

But the only downside of doing this tactic was his dumb twin saw right through it…

…And Leonardo despised it. 

“Nardo…you know what I’m referring to. And stop picking, please. Your going to hurt yourself.” The older attempted to say in a tranquil voice, but it personally just sounded like he was one second away from losing. his. shell.

“I sadly do not know what your referring to.” The blue cladded teen said coyly, picking on his hangnail more desperately now, “Care to enlighten me, Tello?” 

Donnie’s expression hardened ever so slightly at his younger brother’s absolute persistence on annoying him out of his right mind so he could eventually drop the subject…but the softshell turtle was not budging.

His twin would have to try way harder than that.

“I’d love to.” The light golden eyed mutant said in a fake sweet tone as he walked over to lean his shell on Leo’s closed door, crossing his arms in disaproval. The elder grabbed his brother’s sword, planting it right next to his foot so the blue banded turtle couldn’t reach for it. 

The red eared slider’s cocky grin turned to a small grimace (shake) as he soon came to terms with what his older brother was doing…

…He physically could not leave from this conversation…literally.

Leonardo crossed his arms, trying to mimick the other’s serious demeanor but was only met with an icy glare in return. 

“What you did during today’s mission was completley reckless and idiotic, Leonardo…and you know it.” The second oldest said, “I had that thug exactly where I wanted him but noooooo. Because you saw me trip you thought it would be a spectacular idea to throw yourself on top of me as that hooligan tried to hit me with his bat!!” Donatello seethed. 

“We’ve been over this multiple times, Leo! There was no reason for you to do that!” The light golden eyed teen yelled, his glare only hardening more as he saw the younger stuttering over his words to try to defend himself.

“I’m not done.” The taller teen growled, all of his calmness and collectiveness thrown completley out of the window.

The slider slightly flinched (which went un-noticed by the other) at his brother’s genuine angry tone, his left leg fidgeting and bouncing up and down like crazy. 

His tactic was really starting to not work in his favour at all…

“Just…stop putting yourself in the middle of danger like you’re just expecting the rest of us to just watch. We’re your family…and most importantly, we can defend ourselves just fine.” 

“Well ihisn’t that hypocritic!” Leonardo scoffed before creasing his eye ridges together in genuine confusion, mumbling to himself, “Hyp…uh…hypocrotic? Hyp…Hypocratic…?” 

“Hypocritical?” The older deadpanned.

“YES! THAT WORD!” Leo said, “When we were fighting Kraang Prime on the ship and he went to take a blow at Mikey…what did you do?”

Donatello scowled, his eyes not leaving his twin, “…I went in front of him and shielded him with my mystic tech.”

“Exactly.” The lime green eyed mutant scoffed, “And how is that any different from what I did, hm?”

“BECAUSE I HAD A PLAN!!!” Donatello shouted, “I planned to accordingly go in front of Mikey so my sheild could protect both him and me. Did it end up turning out perfect? Fuck no. Kraang Prime slashed right through it and me and Mikey went tumbling towards the ground…” The glasses wielding teen said through clenched teeth. 

The light golden eyed teen rubbed his face tiredly, his hands clenching and unclenching in frustration, “But I had a plan. You on the other hand, just zoomed recklessly on top of me and hoped for the best.”

“…I saved you, didn’t I…?” The younger twin mumbled out meekly, causing Donatello’s blood to absolutley boil. 

“That’s not the point!!!” The elder said as he clenched his hands at his sides again.

“Then what is?!” Leo said desperately, “Because from the looks of it, it just seems like you want to yell at me for just doing my job.” 

Leonardo pulled on his mask tails anxiously, trying to calm himself down but ultimately just making himself feel worse by doing the action, “I’ve been trying to be a better leader—“

“Leo—“

“—For you and Mikey and April and Raph and Casey and C.J. a-and Dad! But it seems like no matter what the hell I do there’s always something I’m doing WRONG!!!” The younger twin shouted, blinking back tears as he glared at the ground as if it took his Jupiter Jim comic.

Which…it did. The blue banded mutant wanted it back now, actually…

“I saved you! I-I didn’t even get hurt by doing it but somehow there’s an issue…” The lime green eyed teen murmured, both of his legs bouncing up and down as he tugged on his mask tails harder, “There always is…”

“Leonardo can you please just listen to me?” The older twin said in irritation. 

“But Don I’m—“

“No, Leo! Just listen! That’s all you need to do!” Donnie snapped as he cut his brother off, “I don’t want you leaping head first into harms way! At all! Especially if you don’t have a plan!” The softshell turtle exclaimed as he flapped his hands against the side of his thighs, but his eye contanct remaining on his little brother.

“Oho so now you don’t trust me well enough to know that I can handle myself in combat?” Leo said in a last desperate attempt to make his brother drop the conversation.

“I…” The young scientist’s eye twitched, his eyebrows creasing together as he had to physically restrain himself to not beat the ever living crap out of the other teen, “THIS IS NOT ABOUT TRUST, NARDO!” The light golden eyed mutant screamed desperately, his hands flapping faster as the red eared slider shrunk at his usage of tone, “This is about you not even thinking about what would happen to yourself when you do reckless nonsense like this.”

Leo glanced to the side, his eyes watering as he bit the inside of his cheek.

He just wanted to help and be the leader his brother’s deserved…

But he always found a way to fuck it up without even noticing, huh?

"You don't think about what could happen to you and I hate it!” The elder cried, “What would’ve happened if Raph didn’t come behind the guy and knocked him out cold at the last second, huh?! Would you have just stayed right on me as he continued to beat you with his bat?!”

Leonardo bit the inside of his cheek harder, his legs bouncing up and down more as his fingernails dug unforgivingly into his arms, “I-I’m sorry, Donnie—”

“Or would you have tried to fight him instead?! Mind you, you dropped your sword before coming to me so you’d have no weapon to defend yourself.” 

“You don't think about how much it scares me when you do dumb shit like that! I hate seeing you get hurt…I freaking loathe it.” Donnie rested the back of his head on Leo’s door, taking a couple deep breaths and hugging himself in an attempt to calm himself down.

Jeez…when the hell had he started yelling? His throat stung like a bitch now…

And when had he started shaking like a bobby head?!

The older twin’s expression softened, pinching the bridge of his snout once more, “I care about you…so fucking much, okay…?” The purple banded turtle said gently as he gradually started to simmer down and become more calm, “Your my twin…my little brother. And I hate to be repetitive but I-I just despise seeing you hurt…physically or emotionally…so please just…”

The young scientist’s eyes widened, peering down at his brother who did not seem to be following…at all. 

Leo’s eyes were wide as saucers as he hit his arm with his fist repeatedly whilst obviously trying to suck in whatever tears dared to try and escape. 

The taller turtle basically ran to his distressed twin, trying to stop him from harming himself any further but was only met with a low grunt.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Fucking shit. 

Wonderful job, Donatello! You yelled at your brother so much he shut down!

Even though you knew he can’t fucking stand being yelled at and the whole point of you even being here was to explain what he did wrong collectively and calmly because that was the exact oppositeof what Raph does when he’s worried…

But no! You yelled at him anyway.

Wonderful job, Donatello…wonderful. job. 

The older twin sighed sadly, gently grabbing his brother’s wrists so he would stop hitting himself. The two brother’s shared eye contact once again, an unsure lime green meeting an understanding yet uncertain light golden.

“Nardo…” The softshell started, squeezing the other’s hands gently, “…Are you with me, bud…?”

Leo just nodded quietly, squeezing back. 

“God…Nardo I’m so sorry…” The older muttered, “I don’t…I don’t know why the hell I lost my cool like that. I-I’m sorry I yelled. I shouldn’t of yelled…I-I just…” Donatello sighed, squeezing his brother’s hands once again. “I’m not angry with you. I…I was just frustrated.”

“Well, no…let me rephrase: I am angry with you— livid even. You know damn well enough that when you do those kinds of things my heart literally jumps out of my shell. I need you to put into consideration that I would like to live to at least seventy-seven…”

The younger twin giggled wetly, fidgeting with his brother’s fingers as he spoke, “…Why seventy-seven?”

“Albert Einstein died when he was seventy-six…I can and will outlive him.” The light golden eyed teen said matter-of-factly, “But back to what I was initially saying…I know you meant well. You saw that I was in trouble…and you dropped literally everything in order to help me get out of said trouble. You don’t think of what happens to you…you just do it because you’ll know if you do we’ll be alright…”

“I-I just…I just wanted to protect you…I-I just wanted to help…” Leo tried to explain.

“I know. I know, Lee…” Donatello sighed, rubbing the slider’s knuckles gently with his thumb, “But you need to understand that with you trying to protect us that way, your putting us in the same situation your trying to keep us away from.” The elder explained lightly, smiling softly as him and his twin’s forehead’s touched. 

“You’re getting hurt— or at the very least almost getting hurt. We’re feeling the same anguish and guilt you would feel if any of us did that. I get that you want to be a good leader and shit…but you can lead well without doing that…okay?” 

Leo fiddled with the other’s fingers a bit more, his bouncing leg starting to calm a bit, “I’ll…try to be more careful when it comes to me protecting you guys like that. When I see you all in trouble…I just…react. I don’t really care about what happens to me as long as you guys end up okay. But…I’ll try to be more careful. And if I ever end up, like, being a bit too reckless…you can just tell me…deal?”

“Deal.” Donnie nodded, squeezing Leo’s hands one last time before letting go, wiping his twin’s eyes with his hoodie sleeve, “Now please stop crying or you’re going to make me start crying.” 

Leo snorted, examining the other’s now tearing up expression, “I think it’s a bit too late for that…” 

“GAH! FUHUCK!” Donnie cursed, wiping his own eyes as the slider laughed loudly at his exclamation.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Leo…don’t you think you’re getting a bit too big for this…?” Donatello grumbled as Leonardo was on his lap, getting all nice and comfy as he rested his chin on the older’s shoulder. “Noooope.” Leo drawed out, making a dramatic popping noise at the end of the 'p', “'Sides, this is what you get for making me emo earlier.”

“…I said I was sorry…I didn’t mean to shout at you like that. I was just concerned…” 

“I know that, you worrywart. I was just kidding.” The lime green eyed teen said lovingly, squishing his brother into a tighter embrace. The older let out a short shriek at the hug but of course didn’t mind the other being so clingy. 

If the young scientist really and truly did mind? Leo would’ve been pushed to the floor by now. 

The two twins shared a comfortable silence…well…a semi-comfortable silence.

The purple banded teen felt…off. His younger brother had this…look in his eyes; like he wanted to say something but was afraid of what Donnie would say or how Donnie would react.

Which was so damn dumb Donatello didn’t even know how to explain it.

“…There’s something else on your mind.” The taller turtle hummed, his suspicions only rising as the other glanced to the side. “Uhm…no there isn’t. See? This is why I call you a worrywart.” Leonardo said, tapping his fingers on his thigh nervously. 

Very convincing Leo…very convincing.

“Don’t even try lying to me, Leon. My older brother and twin senses are tingling. You can’t argue against that kind of logic.” The scientist said matter-of-factly. 

“What are you, Spiderman?” The younger snorted. 

“We shall never know.” The older shrugged, a small smile spreading to his face as he saw the other snort softly at his statement, “Now stop deflecting. Spill.” 

“…Can you…adjust my elbow braces…?” The red eared slider muttered.

“…Why can’t you do it?” The other questioned. Not in a malicious way; he was just genuinely curious. 

“I like it when you do it. You make it more firm, y'know?” The blue banded turtle whined dramatically, “Pleeeeeease?”

“Ugh, Jesus— fine. But drop the pout…you look ridiculous.” The taller mutant sighed, lightly grabbing his brother’s arm as he readjusted the braces. 

The purple banded turtle meticulously took off the other’s left arm brace, tracing his twin’s elbow to make sure it was healing correctly— which the slider couldn’t help but wriggle slightly to.

As the older twin put the brace back on, he looked at the other turtle in complete worry, “…Why are you squirming around so much?” Donatello asked in confusion. 

“…No reason.” Leonardo stated, but let out a tiny squeak as Donnie lightly pinched his forearm. 

“Yohou okay…?” The glasses wielding mutant giggled.   

“I-I’m fihine!” The smaller turtle insisted, covering his mouth as he let out a loud shriek in result to his brother now lightly scribbling his forearm. “EEEEE! P-Plehease moohoove yohour hahahand!!” The younger sputtered out, hiding his face in the crook of the scientist’s neck which the older turtle couldn’t help but let his heart melt to.

“Oh.” Donatello hummed, biting back an amused laugh, “Sorry. Sometimes I forget how ticklish you are…”

“Snrt I-Ihihi’m nahat ticklish. I juhust don’t wahant your hand thehere…” 

And isn’t that quaint. 

If Donnie had a penny for every time Leo said he 'wasn’t ticklish', the softshell would be richer than Elon Musk.

“…Right. So…you wouldn’t mind me doing this then?” The young genius mused as he scribbled one hand over his twin’s ribs. “EEEEHEH! Duhuhude noHOH!! F-Fuhuck yohou!” The younger twin managed through his small giggles, pushing on his brother’s plastron to try and escape while he still could.

The elder laughed fondly at his little brother’s futile actions, hugging him closer as he lightly tickled him, “Nahardo! My brohohother in Christ gehet back here or you’re gohoing to fahall off of the bed!

“N-NOHO!! LEHET ME GO!” The lime green eyed teen screeched loudly, kicking his legs and pushing even harder on the other’s plastron, his eye’s widening in panic as his older brother casually lifted him up and pinned his arms above his head, his plastron now facing up on the bed.

Eugh boy…

Donnie grinned, sitting on the other’s thighs as he wiggled his unoccupied fingers in the air near the slider’s side, “That’s better~!”

“WAHAIT WAHAHAIT snrt PLEHEASE DEEHEE!!” The red eared slider cried, kicking his legs from underneath the scientist.

If he was going to go down…he would at least go down fighting. 

“I haven’t even touched you yet, you goof…” The older twin chuckled. 

“B-BUHUT YOHOUR GOHOHONNA!” 

“'Gonna' what, exactly?”

“TihiHICKLE ME!!” 

“Tickle you? Well, why didn’t you just say so in the first place?” Donatello snickered, using his free hand to skitter his fingers along the crook’s of the younger’s neck. 

The blue banded turtle squealed, shaking his head back in forth whilst scrunching his shoulders, “GAHaha— snrt EEEEHEEHEH oho cohome snrt OHAHAN!!” 

“What’s wrong, Leo? I thought you said you weren’t ticklish~?” The older teased.

“Snrt STHDHAHAH! Shuhut UP! IHI’M naHAT!” The younger shouted, tugging and pulling his arms to try and get his hand’s free from the other’s grasp. Donnie just laughed softly at the action, wiggling his fingers above his little brother’s stomach. 

The lime green eyed teen’s eyes widened in panic, thrashing in the hold to try and loosen his brother’s grip but the purple banded turtle did not budge even a smidge. 

Leo’s laughs became more giddy and loud as he continued to squirm, small squeals and snorts escaping his beak as his twin brother’s hand went sloooooowly to his stomach. 

“N-NOHO NONONONO DAHA— snrt DOHON!!” The smaller turtle snorted, hiding his face in the side of his arm which Donnie couldn’t help but giggle to. 

The light golden eyed mutant rested his hand on the slider’s plastron, making the younger turtle’s laugh raise almost a thousand octaves. 

“DOHON’T snrt DOHON’T DOHOHON’T snrt YOU DARE!! YOHOUR SOHO MEEHEEHEEAN!!” Leonardo whined, hiding deeper into his arm and becoming a giggly flustered mess.

The older twin shook his head fondly at his little brother’s embarrassed state, taking the opportunity to tickle the younger’s stomach while he wasn’t looking. 

Leo let out a loud scream, descending into high-pitched cackles as even louder snorts followed, “HAHAHAHELP!! IHI’M SNRT BEEHEEING SLAHAHAUTERED!!” 

“I’m quite literally only using one hand, Nardo. Stop being dramatic.” The light golden eyed teen mused whilst watching his brother snort and squirm, “And here I thought I was the dancer of the family. Look at you! You’re making up a whole dance routine right now!” He said as he let go of Leo, crossing his arms in amusement. 

“S-Shuhuhut snrt up…” The younger twin wheezed out, hugging his middles as he playfully glared at his purple loving brother. 

Then, a lightbulb went on in the scientist’s brain, a smug smile spreading to his face, “Hm…you know, Lee—”

“Dohont call snrt me thahat!” Leo giggly interupted. 

“Uh-huh. Well, Lee…did you know that the underarms are one of the warmest places on the human body?” The scientist said. 

The lime green eyed mutant cocked his head to the side in confusion, “Soho?” 

“Soooo my hands are cold. Very cold, in fact. I’d be forever in your debt if you could—”

“NO! NONOHO WAHAY IN HEHELL! G-GOHO AWAHAHAY!” Leo squealed, reaching for his brother’s wrists as the elder tried to tickle his neck once again.

Sigh…Leonardo made this too damn easy sometimes.

The glasses wielding teen wasn’t just going to miss this oh-so-definetly-not-planned opportunity! The softshell scribbled his fingers along the slider’s underarms, making the younger let out a loud squawk as he shot his arms down. 

“NAHAH AHAHAHA— snrt GEHET THEHE HEHELL OHAHA— snrt OHOHOUT!!” Leonardo cried while banging his heels on the bed. 

“What~?” Donnie hummed inocently. 

“GEHEHET AHA— snrt GEHET. OHOUT. OHOF THEHEHERE!”

“Awe…why~?”

“BEEHEECAUSE IHIT’S SOHO BAHAHAD!!!” 

“And?” Donnie chuckled, “That sounds like a you problem, little brother.” 

“AHHHAHA— snrt GAHAHAD FUHUCK YOHOU!!!”

“Pardon…what was that?” Donnie questioned as he pinched where Leo’s hip met his thigh. “N-NONO— snrt NAHAHAH!! I CAN’T— snrt PLEHEHEASE I’M snrt SORRY!! I-IHI TAHAHAKE IHIT BAHAHCK!!” 

“Nah…I think I’ll just stay riiiiight here for a bit…” The taller turtle smiled, using both of his hands now to tickle Leo into a laughing and snorting blob.

The younger weakly hit his big brother’s arms, throwing his head back as he squeezed his eyes completely shut. 

“…And you know what, Lee~?” 

“WHAHAHAT NOW?!” 

“I’m feeling…kind of famished.” The elder mused, his smile almost looking like the signature Joker’s as he saw his younger brother’s face pale. 

Leonardo scrambled to sit up, fighting with his brother’s arms as he giggly protested, “PLAHA— snrt PLAHAHEASE! PLEHEASE snrt D-DOHON’T!!” 

Donnie pinched his brother’s thighs unforgivingly, “You should have thought about that before yapping such ill nonsense about yourself.”

“WHAHA— snrt WHAHAHA— snrt WHAHAT DIHID snrt IHIHI snrt EVEN SAHAHAY?!” The lime green eyed turtle cackled, flapping his hands on the mattress. 

It took literally everything in the older twin not to coo his baby brother’s adorable actions; instead, he lightly moved Leo’s hands away, smiling evily as he lowered his head to the other’s plastron, “You don’t even know. Guess you really want this, huh~?” 

The blue banded teen kicked his knees into his brother’s shoulders and shell, throwing his head back in complete hysterics whilst waiting for him complete and utter demise. 

The softshell wasted no time blowing raspberries after raspberries in the middle of his younger’s stomach, making sure to move the other’s hands away any time he tried to push at the young genius’ head. 

Donnie didn’t feel like getting brain damage after all.

Plus, he had his signature glasses ᴅᴏɴᴀᴛᴇʟʟᴏ ᴛᴍ on! And those were trademarked…as you can wonderfully see. 

“God…can you get more ticklish?” Donatello giggled, squeezing and squishing the red eared slider’s knees with one hand and scribbling his sides with the other whilst contuinung to raspberry Leo’s stomach. 

“DEEHEE DEEHEEHEE SNRT PLEHEHEASE!!! IHI SNRT DAHAHAH— SNRT DAHA— SNRT DAHUNNO!!” The smaller turtle screamed, happy stimming with his arms on the taller twin’s shoulder.

Donnie couldn’t help but chuckle, deciding to show his twin a tad bit of mercy as he nibbled his stomach lightly. 

The slider let out bloody murder from his beak, happy tears threatening to fall from his eyes as his bubbly cackles and snorts bounced off the walls of his room.

“Jeez…I think Peppa Pig has some competition, huh~?” The light golden eyed mutant snickered.

“PLEHEHEASE!! TEHEHELLO SNRT IHI’M GOH— SNRT GOHOHA— AHAHA SNRT MYHYHY SNRTGAHAHAHAD!!!” The smaller teen pleaded.

“Do you promise to stop putting yourself in between danger and your family?” The older hummed. 

“YEHEHES!!” The younger cried loudly.

“Do you promise to go easier on yourself?” 

“YAHA— SNRT YAHA— SNRT YEHEHES!!!”

“Do you promise to accept your doing an amazing job as leader and we all love you—”

“MY SNRT FUHUHUCKING SNRT GAHAHAD!!! IHIHI SNRT GEHET IT!!” Leonardo shouted, his blush now completley blending into the red stripes on his face. 

The softshell turtle got off of the other, sitting next to his little brother as his little brother in question hugged his middles and giggled tiredly. 

“Y-Yohou could ohof juhuhust sahaid ahall of thahat wihihithout tickling meeheee…” The younger grumbled despite the evident smile on his face.

“And where’s the fun in that?” Donnie smiled back, his expression softening as Leo got up and leaned against him softly. The older wraped an arm around the younger’s shoulder, pulling him closer into a warm, protective gesture. 

“Ahand would yohohou look ahat that! Ihi got yohour emo bahad boy ahahass to smile todahay. Your eheeven hugging me~!” The blue banded leader spoke softly, his voice filled with affection as he poked his twin’s forehead cheekily. 

“You tell anyone that and I will not hesitate to deny that extremely untrue statement.” The scientist huffed, rolling his eyes fondly as his smile spread.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[customizablefriend]

My true self still loves Tommyinnit I am still an inniter at heart I have not changed

[gretagerwigsmuse]

The whole look was something you’d sure would come with Cher Horowitz’s seal of approval. However, the patrons of the Hard Deck you were less sure about. - this is such a good visual like i know exactly the kind of vibe she’s going for 🥰 the ivory cardigan is such a cute touch too! the poor thing tho because i know exactly what it’s like to feel out of place

It was all done with a heavy-handed, maximalistic approach that you’d take a moment to appreciate under any other given circumstances. - no because it is kind of camp in a way

Followed closely by the rich chocolate brown eyes that were squarely trained on you with a look that was just as earnest as it was playful. - lieutenant commander cow eyes at your service 🫡

There’s a genuineness in his tone that makes some of the tightness that had settled in your shoulders from the moment you’d walked in release. - sighhhhhh 🥰 that’s bradley for you

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement. - yeah because he’s pretty

more below 🥰💕

“Because if I’m being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I don’t know if I would have played fair.” Oh. - well then 🤭 i’d be doing way more than an italicized oh 🤭

“Plus, you’d be doing me a favor.” // Bradley mirrors you, crossing his thick forearms over each other and leans in that much closer. “I haven’t had a Valentine in years,” he says it like he’s letting you in on a secret. - oh my god this would absolutely work on me wow he’s so cute and sweet and clearly he’s flirting, but it’s not like it’s rehearsed if that makes sense?

Those crinkles around his eyes deepen, “Good to know they still work, I wasn’t sure if I still had it.” - bubs please! rein in the charm!

“If they have rosé, I’d take a glass of that.” It isn’t hard to miss the hesitation in your voice, feeling a little silly defaulting to your usual go-to. You don’t imagine they go through a ton of pink wine here. - oh sweet girl! 🥺 i liked this part in the little teaser you posted too!

You don’t believe him, not one little bit. But that’s part of the fun. - HES SO CUTE STOP!!!

“But you’ve got me second guessing myself now.” He gives you a wink and then heads towards the bar. - GOODBYE 404’ing

…before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat. - ONE OF US ONE OF US ONE OF US

Bradley pulls the straw from his pocket and taps it a few times against the shellacked woodgrain table top. He takes the flimsy wrapper carefully starts twisting it, a little furrow of concentration forms between his brows, spiraling it until it’s pulled taut against itself. - mmmmmmm something about this mmmmm

You note that he wears his watch on the right instead of the left - HOT HOT HOT LEFTIE

Bradley gives you a soft, boyish smile as he holds out his palm towards you, and in the center of it is a perfectly crafted paper ring. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you a Ring Pop on short notice.” - FUCK RIGHT OFF WITH THIS!!!! (also her wanting to take it off and keep it is so 🥰)

Bradley hooks a foot under your stool and tugs you just a few inches closer. - oh hell yes

“You don’t know the half of it. I think I’m about thirty seconds from him queuing up “You Make Me Feel So Young” on repeat just to fuck with me,” Bradley explains. // The sound of a brass band rings out over the staticky speakers and Bradley hangs his head down and lets out a long-suffering groan. - BYEEEEEE

You gather for you purse and sweater as Bradley stands. His hands come to your waist, helping you off the chair, your bodies closer than close. It’s a forward move- he knows it, you know it- but with him, you don’t mind at all. - IT IS A FORWARD MOVE 🤭 i have butterflies

You like saying his name too much to shorten it. - i love this so much awwww

It’s a little thing, but he does it without prompt or awkwardly leaving you to take the initiative yourself. - this is such a big thing! i love how you worded this!

You can tell he’s probably playing quicker than he normally does, clearly trying to hurry up the game for your sake, even though he doesn’t need to. - wait that’s so cute 🥰 also your pool knowledge is very impressive!!

You look at Bradley from over your shoulder, only to see his eyes are trained on the ceiling with his tongue pressed against his cheek. A gentleman, albeit not an unaffected one. - HOT this whole set up is so good

“The atm’s by the restroom.” Bradley sounds only too happy to remind Jake as he closes the gap between the two of you. - DRAG HIS ASS

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips to yours for a kiss. A sound of surprise escapes from his throat. - THIS IS SO CUTE!!! SHE SURPRISED HIM!!!

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 - I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT! (one might even say progressive)

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. (𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫.) - oh my god oh my god this is so smooth but also cute and earnest at the same time!!! and he sent a rose!!!

For the Plot

Summary: Things aren't looking too good for you, sitting alone at the Hard Deck waiting for a man who might not show. Until Bradley Bradshaw sits down across from you and turns your entire night upside down.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Length: 7.7k

Warnings: fluff, so much flirting, and an italicized oh

Going on a first date on Valentine’s Day is unarguably the worst possible idea that anyone has ever had.And while the sure to be terrible, no good, horribly bad idea hadn’t been yours, you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking when you’d even agreed to it in the first place.

The guy you were planning to meet tonight was cute enough, even if you were still undecided about the mustache. And while the chats between the two of you had been pretty good as far as it goes getting to know a literal stranger, you were hopeful that it could be even better in person. The fact he was in the Navy was still a bit of a consideration for you, but not a deal breaker.

In retrospect, the name of the bar should have been your first clue and the location paired with the causal beachy exterior covered in planes should have been the second.

You had been expecting to see more than one girl all done up in pinks and reds tonight, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. And you swear to god, somewhere you hear a record scratch as you step into the Hard Deck, because you are surrounded by nothing but a sea of olive green and khaki and denim.

And you have never been so clearly out of place in your entire life.

There was nothing about your ensemble that was even remotely fitting for the literal Navy bar you’d found yourself in.

The ice pink mini slip dress you’d dug out of your closet was admittedly a little much for a first date, but since it was Valentine’s Day you figured why not lean into it a bit. And well, if your date didn’t appreciate it, then that was a him problem.

Or so you’d thought at the time, because now it was a decidedly you problem.

The silhouette was simple enough, with the gentle drape of the cowl neck and the barely-there spaghetti straps, but the shiny sheen of the fabric made a statement of its own. It wasn’t something you got to wear very often for as much as you loved it.

But then you’d gone ahead and paired it with the tallest, most ostentation heels you had. The effort had been worth it though because the pearl encrusted block heels made your legs look like they went on for days. Even if it had been a feat trying to get the dainty buckle done with the way you’d been rushing out of the house with your beaded bag in tow.

The whole look was something you’d sure would come with Cher Horowitz’s seal of approval. However, the patrons of the Hard Deck you were less sure about. And even though there were civilians- like yourself- scattered about the bar, none were anywhere near as dressed up as you.

There are more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you stand there with your feet glued to the uneven wooden floors, as the door with its porthole-shaped window slowly closes behind you with a squeaky creak. The twinkle lights above your head felt more like a spotlight, illuminating how out of place you are in this moment.

Your hand is still clutched on the handle unsure whether you’re going to make a run for it or not. You are more than a little tempted to hightail it back to the parking lot and text your date to claim a bout of food poisoning from the safety of the driver’s seat in your car.

But chances are if your date is here then he has already seen you. A bright beacon of pink amongst varying shades of brown and woodgrain.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, trying not to panic. Officially a victim of your own bad decision making.

You take a quick scan of the room, trying to decide what your next move should be. There’s a woman behind the bar with kind but clearly inquisitive eyes. A blonde with a wolfish smile eyes you from where he stands next to a man with broad shoulders bent over what must be the pool table, hidden behind the paneled half wall. By a dart board, there are a couple men with their heads turned towards you, the game seemingly forgotten as they discuss the spectacle that is you.

There are hundreds of planes dangling over the bar, patches and plaques littering the walls and rafters, rounders suspended from the ceiling laden with too many ceramic mugs to count. It was all done with a heavy-handed, maximalistic approach that you’d take a moment to appreciate under any other given circumstances.

When you spot an open table tucked away in the corner of the room it feels like life raft to the iceberg of a situation you’ve put yourself in. Mindful of the scuffed, uneven floors- because the last thing you need is to eat shit or twist an ankle in front of room full of curious onlookers- you hustle over to the spot in hopes of having a moment to regroup.  

Once you’re situated- shrugging off the ivory cardigan you’d topped your outfit, trying to keep the nervous sweat that wanted to break out over your body at bay- you pull out your phone and check the time only to realize you’re devastatingly on time. Five minutes early, to be specific.

So you wait.

And check your phone again and the notifications in the dating app, just in case you missed something.

And wait.

You try to play it cool, skimming posts on Instagram and replying to some overdue texts. Finding anything you can to keep yourself occupied to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach the longer you sit there. Alone.

Now you’re not just simply embarrassed, you’re mortified.

You can still feel the eyes, the energy steadily shifting from curiosity to sympathy over the last thirty minutes you’ve been waiting all alone in the corner of a Navy bar you had no business being in for a man who clearly wasn’t going to show.

So much for doing it for the plot, you think to yourself with a shake of your head.

Another minute ticks by with no message and you decide you’re more than ready to hightail it out of there. Fully aware that you’re about to become a topic of conversation that won’t have to be restricted to only covert glances and muffled whispers. But hopefully, they’ll at least wait until the door closes behind you before the chatter starts up for real.

With a sigh, you reach for your beaded bag, just as a large body slips into the chair across from you, with an ease that is in contrast to the bulk of muscles you catch in your peripheral vision.

“You look like you’re in need of a date,” a warm, raspy voice offers.

It’s the smile that you catch first. Not quite a grin, but something familiar and friendly and charming in the way it crookedly pulled to the left. Followed closely by the rich chocolate brown eyes that were squarely trained on you with a look that was just as earnest as it was playful. But what surprised you the most was the way he was sitting in the stool across from you just as comfortably as if he was supposed to be there all along.

There was no way you could have prepared yourself for the sheer level of attractiveness of this man.

He was in a league of his own with those curls and wide shoulders. The white and olive green stripped crochet shirt he was wearing didn’t hurt either, especially the way the top buttons were undone giving you glimpse of a chain around his neck and the chest underneath it. He didn’t need to be in uniform- or even in a Navy bar- for you to tell he was a military man. Not with the confident way he held himself.

Even if the mustache he was sporting made it feel like the universe was playing tricks on you, but he more than wore it well.

You huff out a self-deprecating laugh. “What gave it away?” you ask. “The way I’ve been watching the door? Or just the general look of regret and embarrassment?”

“Embarrassed? What do you have to be embarrassed about?” His eyebrows pull together, perplexed. He shakes his head like he disagrees with even the suggestion of it. “I think the only person who should be embarrassed is the guy who is missing out on sitting across from you right now.”

You give him a soft smile of your own in return for the cinnamon sweet words. There’s a genuineness in his tone that makes some of the tightness that had settled in your shoulders from the moment you’d walked in release.

“That’s kind of you, but I think I’m going to head out,” you say, nodding to the door you never should have stepped through in the first place.

He gives you a teasing tsk. “And let a dress like that go to waste? Now that would be a shame.”

The appreciative look in his gaze that sets off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. And then his eyebrow ticks up, just a little. Part invitation, part dare. And you can’t say you’re not intrigued.

There’s a decision to make.

You could leave now and cut your losses. There was a reason you had a back-up pizza in the fridge and had left you well-loved copy of You’ve Got Mail sitting out on your coffee table.

Or you could stick around and see what happens next.

You tilt your head at him, just as teasing. “Would it now?”

“It would,” he states, sincerely.

Before you can reply, your phone lights up with a new notification, pulling you out of the whisky haze you’d found yourself in. 

His eyes dip down to your illuminated screen. “Is that him?”

“It is,” you confirm, almost regretfully. You open the app and skim the message. And then read it again.

There’s no sorry, no apology for cancelling a half an hour after the time for the date that had been his idea in the first place. And then he’d even had the audacity to tack on a cavalier maybe another time at the end.

Unbelievable.

He lets out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

“Apparently, I should have been the one to remind him that the fourteenth of February is a calendar holiday and a fan favorite day of the greeting card companies.” It’s so ridiculous you’d laugh if you weren’t so annoyed by the lack of consideration and the not-so-subtle blame he’d tried to shift on you. “Even though I did double check if he was sure about meeting up today, I guess I didn’t realize I actually needed to spell out ‘Valentine’s Day’ for him.”

The man across from you doesn’t bother holding back the less than impressed look on his face. And you decide you like that about him, that he wears his thoughts so openly. It’s refreshing.

“Do you mind if I take a look at his profile?”

You shrug and pass your phone over. You were planning on blocking West the second you had a moment anyways. You see him roll his eyes and guess it has something to do with the amount of shirtless gym selfies.

He snorts as he scrolls, “Please, his mustache has nothing on mine.”

An amused laugh escapes you. “Are we ranking mustaches now? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to say that I’d have to give it to Selleck.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes good-naturedly, as he hands you back your phone. “But am I at least a close second?” There’s no mistaking the flirtatious tone in his voice.

You hum and take full advantage of the opportunity to look at him unabashedly, mapping the contours of his face because you can.

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement.

The way the golden light of the sunset is hitting him you catch some sunkissed strands in those soft looking waves of his hair. There’s the beginning of some crinkles around the edges of his eyes. You notice the scars on his face, some that look long healed and others that are still a light pink- like the one on the side of his neck and beneath is ear. And that mustache on him worked for you, one hundred percent.

There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he lets you assess him that leaves no question as to whether or not he’s been flirting with you. You like the way he’s looking at you and the way he’s easily made you forget about being overdressed and how uncomfortable you were even just five minutes ago. You’re having fun. And while you still haven’t answered his question from earlier, you have no doubt that he’d show you a good time if you let him.

“Maybe not a close second, but yours is certainly up there,” you tease.

He grins. “I can work with that.” There’s something about the way he adds on for now that has a spark dancing up along your spine. And then he sticks out his hand, “I’m Bradley.”

It’s a good name. It suits him. It’s one you think you’ll enjoy the way your tongue will curl around the letters of it in your mouth.

When you give him yours in return, he sits up straighter in his seat, like he’s won a small victory.

You don’t doubt that he’s the chivalrous type, the fact that he’s gone out of his way to come over to try and turn this evening around for you says more about him than any dating profile with nonsense questions and overthought answers ever could. But with a man like him, one who’d swoop in to save the night of a stranger because she looks like a damsel in distress, there’s an answer to a question you need to hear first.

“Bradley, this isn’t a pity thing, is it?” You were right, you like the way saying his name feels. You drop your hands into your lap, as you search his eyes. “Because if it is, that’ll make me feel worse than being stood up did.”

The way the words were sitting out and open on the table between the two of you made you feel vulnerable in a way you didn’t like. But you’d rather know now before anything goes further. Doing it for the plot or not, your ego could only take so much bruising in one evening.

He pins you with a look so serious that you feel it down to your toes. “Trust me, this is furthest thing from a ‘pity thing’, as you put it,” Bradley says, his tone slipping down a few gravelly notes. “Because if I’m being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I don’t know if I would have played fair.”

Oh.

A thrilling rush of warmth courses through you as your cheeks heat up.

You nod, trying to not look as affected as you feel. “Ok, I believe you.”

“Good,” he smirks, his gaze dropping down and lingering on your lips. You didn’t realize you’d trapped your lower lip between your teeth, you release it immediately. “Because you should know, I would have come over sooner- the second I saw you, actually- if I’d known. That’s some dress, sweetheart,” Bradley continues, “Plus, you’d be doing me a favor.”

You couldn’t help but be curious, so you lean in closer. “Oh, how so?”

Bradley mirrors you, crossing his thick forearms over each other and leans in that much closer. “I haven’t had a Valentine in years,” he says it like he’s letting you in on a secret.

For the first time all night, you don’t regret wearing the dress. You don’t regret the ostentatious shoes or the glimmering beaded bag. You don’t regret walking through that creaky door. You don’t regret showing up tonight.

How could you when you’ve just been served the best plot twist you’ve possibly ever experienced? A meetcute you never could have seen coming.

You realize just how close your faces have gotten and lean back in your seat, from fear of thinking you might do something stupid, like kiss him. “Will you stop with the big cow eyes, if I agree?”

Those crinkles around his eyes deepen, “Good to know they still work, I wasn’t sure if I still had it.”

You press your lips together trying to hide your smile, all too thoroughly charmed, but the corners of your mouth curl up all the same.

“Trust me, you have plenty.”

And Bradley’s own smile gets even wider.

Anyone in the bar can see how pleased with himself he is at your words. It rolls off of him in steady waves and swirls around your shins and ankles.

He makes a show of settling further into his seat, now that it is officially his seat. “What’re we thinking? One milkshake, two straws?”

You play along and pretend to ponder the offer for a moment. “That seems more like a second date type of activity, does it not?”

“You’re right, something to look forward to for next time,” he responds, not missing a beat. “So, can I buy you a drink?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

There wasn’t a menu or anything on the table when you sat down, so you aren’t sure what all is offered here. You thought you might have caught a glimpse of a laminated stack near register when you’d first walked in, but you hadn’t wanted to draw any more attention to yourself at the time by getting up again and wandering around and reminding people just how out of place you’d been.

You look around and see a mix of ceramic steins, pint glasses, beer bottles, and a few stems of wine on tabletops and in the hands of the other patrons.

The noise of the bar had become a faint white noise in your ears as the two of you talked, but it comes back in full force now.

“If they have rosé, I’d take a glass of that.” It isn’t hard to miss the hesitation in your voice, feeling a little silly defaulting to your usual go-to. You don’t imagine they go through a ton of pink wine here. “But, uhm, anything on tap would be fine too, if they don’t.”

Bradley’s lips twitch up. Not in a smirk, but something caught between amused and something else you can’t quite describe.

You try not to fidget under his warm gaze, “What?”

He slides out of his stool and rounds the table, setting a big hand on the armrest near your elbow, “There’s something you should know about me, sweetheart.”

“And what’s that?” you ask, more than a little breathlessly. Feeling a little high off of the smell of his leather and vanilla cologne, and something underneath that that reminds you of kerosene in a way that makes you want to breathe him in even more.

Bradley dips down close, his lips just a whisper from your ear, and murmurs, “Pink is my favorite color.”

Your head tips back on its own as you laugh. Its unabashedly loud and bright and delighted thing that fills the nooks and crannies of the corner you’d tucked yourself away into. And if a few heads turn your way because of it, that’s alright with you.

You don’t believe him, not one little bit. But that’s part of the fun. The back and forth, the flirting, the banter, the teasing. He’s so quickly turned this night around for you, you already know your cheeks are going to hurt by the end of it.

The sound of Bradley’s own laughter chases after yours. It’s warm and raspy and boyish, and you like the sound of it. You like him.

“One rosé, coming up,” he says, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before he steps out of your space. “There’s nothing I like more than a girl who commits to a theme.”

You catch his wrist, his skin warm under your palm. “Wait, what’s it really?”

“Red,” Bradley says, then gives you a slow once over, making your pulse spark in your veins. “But you’ve got me second guessing myself now.” He gives you a wink and then heads towards the bar.

You watch stunned as he saunters away, admiring the way the light wash jeans he’s wearing form to his long legs, before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat.

When he comes back, only a few minutes later, he has glass of familiar pink wine in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. And oddly enough, a straw tucked into the pocket on his shirt.

“It’s almost a perfect match,” he notes, when he sets it in front of you.

“At least I won’t have to worry about staining if I end up spilling on myself.”

Bradley chuckles and moves his stool in closer to yours, sitting back down with more smooth grace than a man with his build has any right to move. He tips the neck of his beer towards you, and you lightly tap your wine glass against it.

You take a sweet sip. “So.”

“So,” he repeats, with a teasing lift of his eyebrow.

“What’s your move?” you ask, running a glossy tipped finger around the rim of your wineglass.

“My move?” And there’s that grin again, one he doesn’t try to hide as he takes a sip of his own.  “‘m pretty sure I’ve been showing you my moves since I sat down. I’ve never been good at being subtle.”

Bradley pulls the straw from his pocket and taps it a few times against the shellacked woodgrain table top. He takes the flimsy wrapper carefully starts twisting it, a little furrow of concentration forms between his brows, spiraling it until it’s pulled taut against itself.  

You set an elbow on the edge, resting your chin on your hand as you study him. “But what’s the big move? I know you have one,” you press further.

His hands are big, calloused and rough, but capable. You want to know the story behind the scar that’s near the base of his thumb. You note that he wears his watch on the right instead of the left, and you pocket that new discovery for yourself the way a kid enthusiastically collects rocks in a park.

Bradley takes that piece of paper and folds it in half before twisting it again.

You watch in fascination as that pleased grin transforms into a confident smirk, like he’s enjoying even just the thought of showing you his big move. He looks like good trouble.

Bradley’s eyes slowly lift to yours, his hands pausing whatever he’s doing with that wrapper. He shoots a thumb to the left towards the end of the oval shaped bar. “You see that piano over there?”

“Mhm.” It’s an almost purr.

“That’s my big move.”

You feel your eyebrows lift in surprise. Bradley gave off such hometown golden boy vibes, you’d never have expected that he’d be the musical type too. The idea of seeing those hands fly over a set of black and white piano keys made your stomach tighten deliciously in anticipation.

“Am I going to get to see it?”

His gaze is steady on you when he replies, “Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll show you my move.”

A grin stretches across your face and you feel downright giddy, as you wiggle your shoulders in triumph.

Bradley shakes his head amused, and then refocuses his efforts on the task he’d started with the straw wrapper. He struggles only for a moment- those large fingers getting in the way- as he tries to open the end just enough to slip the tail though. He gives it one more final twist, securing the loop, before inspecting his handiwork.

“Now, since we’re valentines and all, it seemed only fitting that I get you- well, make you- a little something.” Bradley gives you a soft, boyish smile as he holds out his palm towards you, and in the center of it is a perfectly crafted paper ring. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you a Ring Pop on short notice.”

The words escape you for a moment at the sheer sweetness of the gesture.

Gently, you take it from his outstretched hand, and slip it onto the pointer finger of your right hand, adjusting it with care until you have it situated just right.

“I usually wouldn’t be able to accept something so grand on a first date. But for you, I’ll make an exception,” you say, liltingly. “Thank you, Bradley.”

You look down to appreciate it again, more than a little tempted to take it off and tuck it securely into your purse for safekeeping. For as much as you liked your dress and bag and your shoes, that little paper ring was now your favorite piece of the outfit you were wearing.

When you glance back up at him, his cheeks have the faintest pink hue to them. The little nonchalant shrug he tries to give you does nothing to hide how pleased he looks. “I make a mean daisy chain too. We might have to wait a couple months for Spring, but I’m good for it.”

Your mind flashes with an image of you and him in a park with a picnic basket sat between the two of you, and those large hands of his threading celery green stems together. It’s a pretty picture.

“Well, aren’t you just a regular modern day Renaissance man.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he rasps, silky smooth. It makes goosebumps raise along your arms. “Now, I’ve told you mine. Can’t say I’m not dying to know what your big move is. Am I going to get to see it, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you muse, lifting your glass to take another sip, “If you’re good.”

Bradley hooks a foot under you stool and tugs you just a few inches closer. “Just out of curiosity, what’s your position on kissing on a first date?”

You bend forward towards him and think you hear his breath hitch, you smile. “I’ll keep you posted.”

You’re still looking at his lips when a shout from across the bar startles you both.

“Bradshaw!”

Bradley mutters a string of curses and then blows out a breath, giving you a smoldering look that tells you that the conversation is far from over. You’re more than willing to let him try and change your mind about where he lands in the mustache rankings.

You look over your shoulder to see the with the sharp smile from earlier waving your date over to the pool table. “I take it you know, Malibu Ken?”

“Unfortunately.” A mischievous look coasts over his face. “But I’ll get you all the Ring Pops you could ever want if you say that to his face.”

You laugh. “I’m holding out for that daisy chain.”

Another holler rings out from across the room, the same Southern drawl as before.

“Seems like he wants your attention. Is he a Leo?”

He snorts. “You know what, he just might be. But more like he’s been waiting for the right moment to annoy me since I ditched him to come talk to a pretty girl instead.”

You try not to preen at the compliment.

“The relentless type, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it. I think I’m about thirty seconds from him queuing up “You Make Me Feel So Young” on repeat just to fuck with me,” Bradley explains. There’s a story there and you want to know more. “I know I still owe you the big move, but is it alright if I try to show off a little for you now? Just to get off my back for the rest of the night, then I’m all yours.”

You feel like you’ve just pulled an ace from your pocket.

“What are the stakes?” you ask, intrigued.

“Two hundred dollars and a whiskey,” Bradley replies.

You let out a low whistle, trying to school the catlike grin that wants to overtake your face. “That’s a lot of Ring Pops.”

The corners of his mouth curl up. “I was thinking dinner for our third date,” he says. “I’m buying for our second, of course. But it’s only right that we split the spoils of war.”

The sound of a brass band rings out over the staticky speakers and Bradley hangs his head down and lets out a long-suffering groan. You playfully pat his shoulder in faux commiseration.

You pretend to consider it for a moment, but you already know your answer. “Okay,” you agree, “Just as long as you’re okay with a little respectful ogling. You like my dress, and I like those jeans you’re wearing.”

He laughs, it’s a throaty rich sound. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

You gather for you purse and sweater as Bradley stands. His hands come to your waist, helping you off the chair, your bodies closer than close. It’s a forward move- he knows it, you know it- but with him, you don’t mind at all.

Bradley offers you his hand and you take it in yours; his fingers slip between yours easily like the two of you have already done this before.  

The two of you only make it a few steps before you tug on his hand, waiting until he looks at you from over his shoulder before asking, with a lifted brow, “Bradley Bradshaw?”

He huffs out a not-so-exasperated sigh, “I blame it on the 80’s.”

“Whatever you say, Brad-Brad.” It’s the one and only time you’re ever going to say it, you decide. You like saying his name too much to shorten it. And his back may be turned to you now, but that now familiar chuckle still makes its way to your ears.

Bradley leads you to the bar first, where he buys another glass of rosé and a beer for himself. When you try to pass your credit card to the woman behind the counter, he takes it, and rasps into your ear, “Let me.”

He tucks it right back into your purse as the sound of brass instruments starts up yet again.

“Like a dog with a goddamn bone,” you hear him mumble. And you press your lips together to keep from laughing. Sure, you’d rather be seeing his big move, but you can’t claim not to be amused by all of this.

He nods to a group of people in the corner near the popcorn machine when the two of you enter the alcove with pool table. Some of his other friends of his you assume.

You send them a little wave, one that they return in greeting. You can tell they’re curious, but you’re grateful when they resume their conversation instead of making you feel like your date with Bradley had become a spectator sport for their viewing entertainment.

The first thing Bradley does is introduce you to his friend. It’s a little thing, but he does it without prompt or awkwardly leaving you to take the initiative yourself. You appreciate the way he is still prioritizing your comfort the way he’s been doing it since he first sat down across from you.

The second thing he does is pull out a chair for you. Not with a fanfare, not with a flourish. But like it’s something that’s innately ingrained in him. You get the sense that the gentleman thing isn’t an act with him, it’s who he is.

Jake rests a hip against the table. “Sorry to interrupt your date, but Bradshaw and I had some unfinished business.”

You wave him off, it’s not a big deal. Not when you’ll have the rest of the night with Bradley. Plus, you’re eager to watch this play out between them, curious about their gameplay.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with,” Bradley rumbles, as he arranges the balls in the rack. And you wonder if he lost the lag before he’d made his way over to your table for one.

He comes back over to you, and leans on the ledge next to you as he chalks his cue. You’d thought about slipping your sweater back on, with the outside chill pressing against the line of glass windows at your back, but Bradley had more than enough warmth radiating off of him that you didn’t need to.

“You that eager to be out a couple hundred, Bradshaw?” Jake grins, as he leans over the side of the table. He turns his gaze to you and sends you a wink right before he breaks, sending the cue ball barreling into the others with a resounding clack, scattering them across the table.

And then they’re off.

It’s a rapid fire of back-and-forth banter between the men as they take their shots. Mostly good natured, but undeniably competitive. Smirking when they land their shots, and snarking over fouls. Clear that neither of them wants to lose.

Jake is all confident posturing, playing low over the cue with a lightly too tight grip. It’s the only thing that gives him away that he’s not the easygoing player as he wants people to think he is. Choosing higher risk shots that would highlight his ability versus some of the more straightforward options laid out for him, and skilled enough that it pays off most of the time. But after a couple rounds you note he’s too quick to stand up after taking his shot, not enough follow through because he’s too eager to see if his gamble pays off.

Bradley is all loose-limbed ease, clearly comfortable in both his skin and at the table. You can tell he’s probably playing quicker than he normally does, clearly trying to hurry up the game for your sake, even though he doesn’t need to. Although he does take his time as he positions himself around the table, only adjusting his bridge every now and then. Always with a 1-2 shot, a warm-up stroke followed by a steady hit. Watching him you catch his tendency to throw out his elbow of the follow through.

The two are pretty well matched in skill, you observe with keen eyes, as the balls skate across the Top Gun insignia, against the rails, and into pockets.

When Bradley’s not up to play, he’s by your side, right at your elbow. And when he is, it’s your eyes he’s looking into the moment he stands back up, seeking out your reaction. But more than once you feel his eyes on you as you watch them play.

True to your word, you to admire him in those snug fitting jeans. And when he catches your appreciative gaze, he sends you a wink before lining up his next shot.

Jake sinks another solid into the pocket he’d called only moments ago, and turns his dimpled smile at you, “You still sure about your date with the old man, chickadee? I bet I could show him up in that department too.”

The way he says it, you know he’s just teasing, probably just to rile you date up and get a reaction from him.

“Unfortunately for you, I think I have a thing for mustaches now,” you toss back, unbothered. And Bradley smiles into his drink.

You watch as Jake lines up his next shot and hits the white with a compact stroke.

“Double hit,” you declare.

“Dammit,” Jake curses.

You look over to see Bradley looking at you with a focused look on his face. Like there’s a theory clicking into place, one he needs the answer to. Wordlessly, he hands you the cue.

“You sure?” you ask.

“Two hundred dollars sure,” he states.

You take it from him with a sly grin.

Bradley’s thighs brush against the front of your knees, you know if you parted them even a couple inches, that he’d fit just right between them. His hands landing on your waist again as he assists you off the stool you’ve been perched on. And you’re starting to think he just likes an excuse to touch you, not that he needs one because you already more than like the feel of his hands on your body.

You walk the pool table, running a finger around the rails as you do. Evaluating the balls on the table like they’re chess pieces. The slow clip of your heels on the floor like the tick of a clock as you take your time deciding your approach.

“You’re the stripes,” Jake offers helpfully. “Don’t worry, I’ll even let you have a free shot.”

And you can’t help but laugh because this is going to be fun.

“Bradley?” you ask, leisurely chalking your cue.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you mind?” You gesture to the spot behind you, and he catches on quick with a not-so-subtle glance at the short hem of your skirt.

He sets his beer down and comes to stand behind you, there’s just enough space between the two of you that you don’t have to worry about hitting him with the cue, his broad from proving you the coverage you needed to bend over the table. While you don’t think you’d mind Bradley seeing the silk thong you had on underneath your dress, you weren’t exactly up for flashing the whole bar.

You haven’t played in a while, but it’s a muscle memory at this point, as you map out your moves. Seeing the lines and angles and arcs in your mind’s eye before anchoring your bridge.

You look at Bradley from over your shoulder, only to see his eyes are trained on the ceiling with his tongue pressed against his cheek. A gentleman, albeit not an unaffected one. A tendril of smokey gratification curls its way along your spine. You turn your head back to the pool table looking between the cue, target, cue ball, target.

It’s a smooth stroke with a satisfying crack. A clean three-rail shot that lands the striped five into the pock you’d intended for it.

“Damn” is all Jake says. His eyes you up, clearly impressed.

“You sure about that free shot, Jake?” You stand up and smooth out your dress, just for the show of it. “Or do you want to make it double or nothing instead, Malibu Ken?” You hear Bradley snort from behind you.

And just like you thought, he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, “Deal.” Jake turns to Bradley. “I just let your girl hustle me, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” Bradley says with a grin, but his eyes are on you.

Neither are surprised when you sink your next shot too. The six sailing into the left corner pocket.

On your next shot, you may or may not deliberately foul. A tactical choice that sets Jake up with a less than ideal position on the table, knowing it’ll be a difficult shot for him to make.

“Now you’re just toying with me, aren’t you?” Jake grouses.

You just smile and take a sip of the rosé that Bradley hands you, neither confirming or denying.

Surprisingly, he banks it.  But his good luck only lasting through that one play. Because on his next, the ball glances off the side rail at too acute an angle to reach the intended pocket and he groans.

Not quite ready to be done, you ease off a little. Enough that they both know you’re going easy on him to extend the game longer, just so that he can catch up to you.

But soon enough, soon there’s only your eight ball left on the table.

“Looks like you’re about to be out four hundred dollars, Jake,” you say with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Just put me out of my misery already.”

You turn to Bradley, who has been carefully positioning himself behind you the whole time. You hold out the cue to him and ask, “Do you want the honors?”

He shakes his head. “Go on, finish him off, sweetheart. I’m enjoying the show.”

And when your final ball tips into the side pocket, Jakes resounding groan is drown out by the whistle Bradley lets loose between his thumb and pointer finger, as you turn towards him beaming.

“The atm’s by the restroom.” Bradley sounds only too happy to remind Jake as he closes the gap between the two of you.

You look over his wide shoulder, “As for the whiskey, something expensive please, Malibu Ken.”

Jake huffs a grumble but nods all the same as he goes to round up your winnings.

“Scored four hundred dollars and a valentine, that’s not too shabby, if I do say so myself,” you preen to Bradley.

“Think that might have been the best thing I’ve seen all year,” Bradley announces. “The hottest too, if I’m being honest.” You feel your cheeks heat under his gaze. His finger slips under the thin strap of your dress that had fallen off your shoulder somewhere along the way. He slides it back up and into place, treating it like some delicate thing the same way he did that paper wrapper. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

Normally, this is when you’d rerack, but you’ve never had a Bradley Bradshaw looking at you before.

“I took a class in college over the summer as an elective credit, and it turns out I had a knack for it,” you explain with a playful little shrug.

“I’ll say.” He takes another step closer. “Did you just show me your move, sweetheart?”

“One of them,” you grin.

You don’t have to press up to his height, not with your pearly heels.

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips to yours for a kiss. A sound of surprise escapes from his throat. You feel the curve of a smile before his hands slide around your waist to pull you closer.

The scrape of his mustache against your upper lip sends electricity racing along every nerve ending in your body. In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. It’s unhurried, like he’s been waiting to savor the feel of your mouth against his. Exciting and new as you learn the taste and touch of him. You knew it was going to be good, but even so, it’s better than you could have expected.

“Think you just snagged that number one spot of my list of favorite mustached men,” you say against his lips.

“Suck it, Selleck,” he rasps.

You inhale the amusement of his light chuckle, letting it go to your head like champagne bubbles, before he slips a hand around the base of your neck and pulling you in close once again.

A couple hours later, you find yourself at home on the couch. Your cheeks a little sore from how much smiling you’d done tonight, as Tom and Meg trade words over a plate of caviar on screen.

It was only much later that night you’d gotten to see Bradley’s big move.

He’d surprised you with his voice and the talented way his fingers glided over the white and black keys. An expensive glass of amber colored liquor sitting atop the old piano as he played, and four hundred dollars tucked safely away in your purse.

You’d given him your number when he’d walked you to your car, only distracting you for a few extra minutes with his mouth, before you’d left for the night, hoping that you’d hear from him soon.

A notification lights up your phone, and a ribbon of thrill unspools through you.

You sigh when you see that it’s a notification from your dating app. You’re wary to open it, not wanting anything to color your night, but you figure now is as good of time as any to block the guy who had nothing on the one you’d spent your evening with.

When you see the name of the person who’d sent you a message, you click into his profile with lightning-fast fingers, skimming all the details to things you hadn’t had a chance to learn yet.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰

𝐀𝐠𝐞: 𝟑𝟓

𝐉𝐨𝐛 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥: 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐙𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧: 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫

There is a picture of him in uniform, grinning to someone out of the frame. And another one of him shirtless on the beach, surrounded by some of the faces you’d seen tonight at the Hard Deck.

But it’s the answers to the prompts that he’d picked, that set your heart fluttering.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. (𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫.)

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬: 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬.

𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬.

That one makes you laugh.

You open the message from him, one that had been sent with a rose.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰: 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞? 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧? 𝐈 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐈 𝐨𝐰𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐨𝐩.

You don’t even have to think.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝?

And you can’t help but grin to yourself as look at that paper ring still on your finger. Because you know, this app won’t be on your phone for much longer.

Not now that you’ve met him.

Happy Hearts Day, friends! Thank you for reading!

And a big thank you to Jordan ( @gretagerwigsmuse) for all the support and encouragement and general woogirling over Bradley Bradshaw!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken  @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[vaguely-concerned]

kill me

(*wobbly tearstained voice* this is father & son richard plantagenet in henry vi part 3 1983 dir jane howell btw. which is. extremely good)

[dykepaldi]

i forget that 12 just lived in bristol for somewhere between 70 years and multiple centuries

that man was going to bristol butch bar

[mechahero]

//Pondering the idea of Lambda sometimes using disguises to get closer to targets when sneaking around or tearing through a place isn't cutting it.

[arolesbianism]

I'm fucking free babey

[skrunksthatwunk]

just finished s2 of kaiji and it was good i really liked it but i hope i never see that fuckass pachinko machine again!!!

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

Playing Cooking Mama with Finn so he can explain what all the foods are that I don't know.

[corpocyborg]

opened dai and immediately got a "cassandra approves" notification. i assume it's for something i did before closing the game last time but it was great because it seemed like she was just happy to see me 😁

[miabrown007]

a minute of silence to my skills to estimate how long a project is ever going to take