#except in both jason ends up staying in the building

[rmbunnie]

I am alone on this barren earth (Jason Todd liker and Mia Dearden liker who honestly thinks issues 69-72 of the 2001 Green Arrow run are fun and good and would really like to talk about them beyond "Jason Todd was ooc and irredeemable there because he was trauma-dumping on Mia but also everything he said was fake and made up and he was manipulating her to become his sidekick and he blew up her school in retaliation because she didn't so really we should ignore the whole comic as bad writing /or agree he should just be read as an sadistic sidekick killer" (None of which is true and over half of which is directly stated to be false in the comic's text) but all people ever have to say about the comic is weird wrong takes about the three pages in which the gym fight happens ripped out of the very interesting and fun surrounding context)

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

imagine like reader being a detective or something, being on the case to catch Red Hood (while he’s still a crime boss)/ the Arkham Knight, but being in a relationship with Jason, unaware of his nightly business. And then boom, they find out one day and it’s all angsty 🤞🤞 love ur work btw hihi

Betrayal

Hi, nonnie! I thought I had this done earlier, but then I had to keep world building. Stuck with Red Hood on this one. Hurt/No comfort warning. Non-graphic, very minor character death. ~1.8k words

Gotham is cursed. That's what they told you when you transfered to the GCPD. Yeah, you've heard the stories, but they're just messing with you, right? Trying to scare the newest rookie cop.

Except they were telling the truth. A few years later, more cases than you can keep track of, enough masked rouges to fill arkham three times over, and a promotion to detective, you tell the rookies the same thing they told you. Gotham is cursed.

"Alright, Detective, this one is yours." You make a face at the case file the Commissioner drops on your desk.

"Sir, I took care of The Penguin robbery last week, isn't it someone elses turn to deal with the high profile cases?" You gingerly pick up the file, reading over the name Red Hood stamped on the front.

Gordan sighs at you, already turning away to move onto the next poor detective. "We cycled through everyone else after the Black Gate breakout. Anyone who didn't work on it has active cases. That makes this one yours."

You grumble reluctantly, cases like this lead to more press coverage than you want to deal with, but start flipping through the file, mentally noting down the sparse facts and theories about the up and coming crime lord.

That was four months ago. In such a short amount of time, Red Hood has taken over more territory in Gotham than any other crime lord and completely changed the game. No dealing to children, no human trafficking. You hate to acknowledge it, but crime technically has dropped since he took over the majority of gangs in Gotham under an iron fist.

The work is exhausting, he's always one– no, five steps ahead of you and your growing team of detectives and beat cops. You don't think you've even gotten a real glimpse at him that he didn't mean to let you have.

The closest you've gotten to Red Hood was out of uniform, weeks after you got the case, when he was still a new name on the streets.

It was a robbery, some desperate punk in a mask that didn't conceal anything, was dragging a little girl out of the store as a hostage.

"Take me instead, she's just a kid." You had protested, heart sinking at the terror in the little girls face.

"Not a chance." He barked back at you.

"Look, she's scared, she'll only slow you down."

The gunman stares at you, you see his fingers twitch. "Fuck it. Fine. Both of you are coming with me." That's how you ended up in some alley, familiar sirens wailing in the distance and your hand curled protectively with the child's.

"Shit. Man. Shit. The cops weren't supposed to be here. What am I gonna do? I can't go to jail." He's snapping. Rambling and desperate. Your eyes dart for some kind of plan, a way to help the little girl stay safe. But the alley is empty, not even a dumpster to seek shelter behind. "I just gotta get rid of the witnesses. Yeah. The witnesses."

Your eyes dart to him, he's lifting the gun. You don't hesitate to grab the little girl, wrapping your arms around her and turning your back to the man, tucking her to your chest to provide as much cover as you can provide.

A gun fires.

There's a thud.

You look over your shoulder, the girls face still hidden against you. He's not moving, gun unshot and laying next to him on the ground. There's a pool of dark liquid forming around him. You look up.

You manage to see a red glint, the shine of a gun, the eerie glow of a luminescent eyes. Red Hood.

That's all you manage to see before you're swarmed by cops, guiding you and the girl to safety.

It's a memory that plays in your mind sometimes, when you hear testimonies of how Red Hood saves people in crime alley, despite his crime lord status. It's confusing, exhausting even, to try and sort between the good and the bad, the duality of one man. At least you have your loving boyfriend to come home to.

Jason. He makes you feel like Gotham might not be so cursed. It's great, he gives you butterflies. He makes you happy. You cook meals together, and you both work the weird twilight/night shift hours. He holds you like you're precious under your shared comforter. You think you might love him. He whispers sweet nothings into your hair when he thinks you're sleeping. You kiss his palms when his eyes get that far away, haunted look he can’t seem to explain.

He's insisted on cooking dinner tonight as you watch him, a little starry eyed. You can't really blame yourself when he's shirtless and working over your favorite meal.

"Oh, Jason, I need to wash my clothes. Do you need anything done?" You ask, finally remembering that you do actually have a job and responsibilities and you can't stare at your handsome boyfriend all day.

"No, I'm good, baby. Go ahead and do your thing. Dinner's almost done." He answers idly, shooting you a lazy grin as you stand.

You smile back before leaving the kitchen to gather your clothes. As you dump the dirty laundry in the washer, you realize you never refilled the detergent. Mumbling an annoyed curse, you head to the spare bedroom you rarely use. There should be some extra necessities stock piled in there. You know, for the next time a criminal messes with Gothams chain supply.

You're more focused on the delicious smells floating through the apartment as you open the closet door, idly looking around for the detergent. That's why it doesn't really click in your mind what you're looking at. Guns. Armor. Your thoughts freeze to a stop. Are you dating some kind of henchman? A bright red helmet takes up your vision. Nope. You're dating a crime boss.

The helmet is in your hands and you're fumbling your way to the kitchen before you even have your thoughts sorted. Should you call for back up? Shouldn't you try to catch him by surprise? Sure. But, you need answers. You want this to be a misunderstanding. You want Jason to be your partner– not– not what the evidence that's heavy in your hand says he is.

Statistics run through your mind. Stories of Red Hood saving working girls. Stories of him leaving bodies of dealers that sold to kids. Then, memories of your boyfriend. How he leans down to kiss your forehead. How runs his hand up and down your arm while you watch movies together. If there was a sign. If you were too blind and in love to realize.

He turns to look at you when you stalk in. You throw the helmet at him. The helmet you'd recognize anywhere, even if you've never gotten close enough to touch it before. He catches it with the grace of a predator. "The hell is this, Jason?"

"It's a helmet." He says evenly, turning off the stove and placing the helmet down on the counter.

"No, duh, it's a helmet, Jason. Don't patronize me. Is it yours?" You nearly hiss, hands curling in anger and frustration and heart break you're not ready to admit you're feeling.

He studies you, eyes dark and calculating. It makes you bite the inside of you cheek. His eyes never looked at you like that before. "It is."

You laugh out of disbelief, stepping back. "So you've been using me? Is that what all this was? Just a way to get information about the GCPD and what we had on you?"

"What? No." He says your name a little pleading, "it's not like that. Not anymore."

"But it was." You bite out, cursing yourself for the sting of tears in your eyes.

He steps closer, you step back, trying to keep your hands from shaking. He whispers your name, and you think you see hurt flash in his eyes before it disappears. His voice goes steady, even. "It was. But I haven't tried to get anything like that since–"

"Since when, Jason?" You cut off, anger and hurt clear in your voice, in your face. "Was it before we raided the warehouse at the docks? Is my computer bugged? Did you hack my phone?"

He winces. You don't need to be a detective to know he has. "I haven't used them since we started getting serious."

"And when was that, Jason?" You ask, voice breaking at his name. "Because it's been serious this entire time for me."

He doesn't answer at first, gaze leaving you to stare at his helmet. "Since I– I saw you save that kid. Instead of going after that shooter. When I realized you weren't just another one of the corrupted cops. That you care about this city. And the people. I realized I couldn't keep doing that to you."

You go quiet. What can you say to that? "Were you ever going to tell me?" You settle on.

"I don't know." He shrugs helplessly, eyes leaving the helmet to meet your teary gaze. "I didn't know how. I don't– think I wanted you to know. " He stutters over his last sentence, and then says your name, pleading coming back to his tone. "I can't lose you over this."

"You never had me!" Your voice raises, a shout in anger before you can bury it down. You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively and lowering your voice. "You never had me if everything this was was built on a lie."

"It's not a lie." He says firmly, snapping to attention and stepping towards you. He gestures between the two of you, says your name like he demands your attention. "This is not a lie."

"It is, Jason! You're only here to gain something from me! From my job!" You push back, throat tight and head spinning. Maybe you shouldn't be yelling at Gothams most dangerous and deadliest crime boss, but your heart is too broken for your head to think straight.

"No, pretty." You think he's pleading. You think his mouth might even be trembling as he speaks, but you can't make it out through the tears in your eyes. "No. It was like that at first. I know. I know that hurts you, but, it's not like that now. It's nowhere near that now."

"I don't care." You choke out.

"You don't mean that." Jason protests, but he doesn't sound certain.

"I don't want to see you anymore." You say the words before you're even sure you want that.

His face drops. "You don't mean that either."

"I do." It tastes like a lie. It sounds like the truth. You're turning and leaving before he can speak again, before you can unpack what you really want, locking yourself in the bathroom.

You fall asleep to the sound of your own tears, curled on the cold tile floor. You wake to silence. His helmet is gone from your counter when you enter the kitchen.

Your favorite dinner is wrapped in plastic when you open the fridge.

It makes the truth of it all worse. Gotham really is cursed.

Part Two

[trashdragon4]

Having incredibly Jason Todd flavoured thoughts in regard to Toi Dericottes poem “Speculations About “I””

I read this poem in class the other day and immediately thought ab my boy Jay. So i finally sat down today and messily vomited the below words into a document, please enjoy.

Heres the poem link: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/90292/speculations-about-i (in case u want to read it normally, as it is a banger of a poem)

Ok, so I feel like this is post death, early resurrection. This is Jason borderline catatonic, wandering the streets of Gotham having just dug himself from his grave, begging for the only safety he’s ever really known. This is Jason in the hospital, desperate for a comfort he’s unaware he ever had (Bruce, his dad, he's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry).

This is post Lazurus pit, with the league, with Talia. Jason is hardly more conscious than before, but sometimes he feels things now, the adrenaline of a fight, the hot sharp pain of a blade, he’s something closer to alive. But he’s a mere observer in his own body, and he hardly ever observes (he doesn’t want to see the carnage).

He’s gaining control now, battling the Lazurus pit, gaining consciousness as well. He doesn’t know where he ends and it begins, and he’s not sure if cares, if he should care.

Who is he now? What does he remember? He clings to those fragments, however painful they are and are becoming, because they are all he has left of himself, of Bruce, of Robin. In a way they are still shaping him, they are the tools Talia wields to carve him into what she needs him to become.

The Lazurus pit, it stifles what remains of him, pushes it deep down, he lets it, helps it even. It’s easier this way. Now all he has is the anger, and the stories he’s been told, they fuel it.

A memory, his childhood, he found himself, in his first life, in the grime of crime alley. He grew up in the filth and abuse and neglect and he loved it despite it all because it was familiar, a comfort, he loves it still. He hides this piece of himself amongst the scattered fragments of his mind.

Sometimes he wonders if he should’ve stayed dead. He thinks that maybe it would be better if he hadn’t clawed his way up from the dirt, if he had crumpled up like so many others on Gotham’s streets, if Talia hadn’t found him. He’s here now though and through the poison he lets her feed him he plots. Memory and musings will do him no good, so he will let them fall away.

The prodigal son returns. Except not really, he’s back in the physical sense and he’s trying, trying so hard to do what no one else will. He will be the saviour to all those his Father couldn’t (wouldn’t) save. He’s building a new safer home from the ground up, brick by brick. He’s in control for the first time in years and then he’s standing on that rooftop facing Bruce His Dad Batman with a gun in his hand and a countdown on his wrist and he didn’t see the batarang coming but it slices through his throat and he can’t breathe.

He is not the Jason of his memories, not the little bird who thought Robin was magic. He is the cage that little birds get trapped in.

Internal conflict, the fragments of himself are locked in opposition, he does not know who to trust, what to do, how to move forward.

He has broken the one unbreakable rule he was raised with, over and over and over, and he will do it again. It wasn’t that he wanted to kill, he wanted someone to protect him. No one did. He will protect himself now, protect everyone that needs protection. And so he clips the little birds wings.

This is all he is, no matter the justification. His survival is not one to be celebrated, and as far as he’s aware it hasn’t been. He is life at the cost of life.

He has failed everyone he has ever cared for, broken every promise to them that he made. Bruce, His Mother (both of them), Alfred, Dick, Babs, everyone. He never cared enough to promise himself anything.

[necrotic-nephilim]

I saw on your pinned post you had Slade/Tim. I’d love to hear your thoughts.

yes of COURSE i adore SladeTim and am happy to spread propaganda-

i will be honest some of my thoughts are simply "i will fandom bicycle the hell out of Tim bc he's my Fave Guy", but i do genuinely think about what a relationship between Tim and Slade could be fueled by. i 've briefly mentioned them on this blog before (but that was a month ago so it'd be impossible to find) and what i brought up then I'll echo now: i think what's fascinating about Slade and Tim is the fact it *shouldn't* work. there's really no foundation for them. there's been scattered interactions throughout canon, but nothing that's lasting besides the typical hero/villain thoughts.

which is fascinating, given Slade *does* have developed interactions with most of the other Robins. there's endless canon to build off of for Slade and Dick, of course, those two will always be tied to each other in fascinating ways. and Slade and Jason also have interesting history, working together in some comics and having a lot to build off of. even Slade and Damian have some history, Slade has developed feelings on Damian and multiple fights with real substance between them, not even mentioning how Respawn plays into it. so we canonically know at least a bit about how Slade feels on each Robin- except for Tim. Tim just gets brushed over which given how long he was Robin, it's impressive he never had a real meaningful moment from Slade, maybe aside from the time Slade brainwashed Cass, which was questionably characterized for *everyone* involved.

it makes SladeTim an interesting blank slate. and naturally, makes Tim the Robin that Slade just mentally skips over. Dick is *the* Dick Grayson, the mental replacement for Grant and the apprentice he crave, the "real prize". Jason is fascinating in the "Bruce's biggest fuck up" sort of way, running on his own away from the Bats and occasionally making a good ally when Slade is in a tight spot. and Damian is a reminder of Slade's fatherhood and the grandson of Ra's, so at the very least there's begrudging respect for the mantles he's carrying. but Tim is just... the other one. he's a rich kid who thought he could choose this life and has probably bit off more than he can chew and i don't think Slade ever fully takes him seriously, which is *really* fun. Tim has proven himself to most villains, but he's never really proven himself to Slade.

so i'm very interested in the idea of Slade having a run-in with Tim and being pleasantly surprised that Tim is far more than he appears is *fun*. i think it's fun if Slade doesn't realize Tim was trained by Shiva until he's actually fighting Tim and is finally forced to develop real thoughts surrounding Tim aside from just seeing him as Robin #3. i think there could be a sick curiosity to it that drives Slade to press and press just to see what he gets out of Tim.

i'm also always into the idea of Tim using sex as almost a form of masochism or self harm. i love shipping things like JayTim or RasTim to specifically explore Tim using sex as an emotionless outlet to get hurt in a way he can control. bc i *love* masochist!Tim who needs some kind of control over his masochist outlets. and well, Slade's a fun choice for someone for TIm to go to for no-strings-attached sex that will always stay within the arranged parameters. even if Slade isn't morally a good person, he's always good on completing his end of a deal and it makes him a reliable source for Tim to go to.

also, i just like "i know you're pretending i'm someone else when you fuck me and i don't care, i'd do anything to be touched like this" dynamics. i *truly deeply* adore ships where someone is a substitute for the *real* person their partner wants and they know it. and Tim in that dynamic will always get me. i think SladeTim works well for them both knowing Slade is pretending he's fucking Dick- maybe even calling Tim by Dick's name. and Tim allows it, bc it's part of the agreement. Slade gets what he wants and Tim gets what he wants. Dick will never be fucked up enough to want the things Slade likes in bed even if Slade manages to sleep with Dick- but Tim, the little fucking freak he is, will.

and i think feelings blooming out of that is fun, them accidentally falling for each other and neither expecting it bc rlly, they should've fallen for anyone else. i'd love to write an aromantic SladeTim fic though, i won't lie. where an aromantic Tim goes to one person he's confident won't fall for him romantically. and Slade develops almost fatherly feelings for Tim in the process. and not an ounce of it is romantic, but it makes for a complicated sort of almost-love between them. i think i prefer any SladeRobin ship with some kind of fatherly love from Slade thrown into the mix, and given Tim's loss of his own father is a very fresh wound, they have the most potential for that.

TLDR: the fun of this ship is that *because* there's so little canon, it makes for an endless sea of potential. and there's so many fantastic fics that explore it *very* well. i think they'd be neat.

[laufire]

may reading meme!

BOOKS

The Sign of Four by Arthur Conan Doyle. This one introduces Mary. I wish she'd gotten the treasure and become a rich heiress 😢

Inheritance by Devin Grayson. Loved it. I'm definitely gonna track down her other prose novels. I made a good guess on who [redacted] from very early in the book, practically from the first, and it was still quite gripping. The funniest thing, however, is how unequal each of the former sidekicks' sections are lol. Was she just going through the motions with Garth? Although, by virtue of being the one I know the least about, it did make me want to read his comics. Roy's and Dick's were more even, both with incredibly poignant, poetic flashbacks I adored, but you can tell DickAndBruce is where her heart is and their dynamic was showcased beautifully imo. Her characterization of Ollie is... surely controversial, and doesn't quite match how I see the guy, but it didn't bother me.

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. This one is a reread, though it's been a decade since I read it for the first time. I've read it even more slowly than the first time around, pondering over practically every passage. Nabokov's prose is simply sublime, and Dolores's character is one of those that stays with you for how much you read into her.

COMICS

Beneath the Trees Where Nobody Sees. The first issue enchanted me, and the last one was a very apt ending for the story. The journey to get there let me down.

FCBD 2024: Barda Special Edition. This is a preview for an upcoming story. A young Barda is charged to break the prisoner Scott Free, as the beginning of their romance. Theirs is a ship I've been curious about for a while, and I really dig the premise, so I can't wait to read it.

Catwoman: Her Sister's Keeper. A short, gritty origin story that builds on the Selina we see in Batman: Year One, written by the same author as Lois Lane (1986). I really wish her sister was more present in Catwoman's story in general, tbh. She was featured in Selina's Knight Terror mini, which I might end up rereading.

The Bat-Man: First Knight. Three-part run set in the 40s, the original Batman setting. A tale of monsters, human experimentation, and the effects of the second world war. I enjoyed it, though not wildly, but it confirms I'd enjoy more historical settings in my comics.

War Games. Oh boy. OH BOY. My kill list grew with each page I read. The missed shot at a proper story with robin!Steph, the incredibly uncharitable way she's written... all to end in the grossest example of character assassination I've ever seen with Dr Leslie Thompkins, all to relieve Bruce of his guilt for his part in Steph's demise. I wanted to read the arc because I thought it was important for some Steph-focused storylines I want to write that build up on it (mostly by subverting or contradict him), but with few exceptions (SOME of Steph's Robin arc, the school plot, Tarantula's appearances, and the parts touching on Dick's downward spiral, for example) it was all so hateful and mean-spirited. Even the prelude to the proper arc, starting with Bruce and Cass's visit to Jason grave to use him as a cautionary tale against Steph, or that storyline about the teen mothers... death. Death to Dan DiDio for one thousand years.

Outsiders (2003). I'm including the Teen Titans crossover arcs (including both Secret Files and Origins issues, both GREAT), and the Outsiders: Five of a Kind arc where Batman is a shit xD (it also did make me wanna read the continuation in the next Batman and the Outsiders run). The art was... Mixed, by which I mean that sometimes it was fuck-ugly lol, but I loved the run. Winick gets me. I have a special place in my heart for Jason's little arc, OBVIOUSLY, but my favourite parts are, second, Dick's arc, and first, ANISSA AND GRACE. I as a lesbian owe Winick much for that one. They're the main attraction for the continuation, ngl. I also loved Shift and Indigo, btw. So damn tragic 🥲

[tr4umaborn]

** IMPORTANT INFO RE: TJ HAMMOND

a study in. drug abuse / addiction,  self harm,  suicidal ideation / attempts,  over dosing,    bipolar I disorder  (  which includes mania episodes,  heavy depressive episodes,  anxiety,  and minor psychosis breaks  ),  bdsm / submissive behaviors,  sex as a coping mechanism,  in being the bad twin,  the nature of growing up addicted,  undiagnosed mental illness, the golden gay, an opposite role model, making music until your fingers bleed, the minor chord, living fast dying young

full name. thomas james hammond also known as. tj, teej, golden boy date of birth. 02 / 19 / 1984 age. 38 zodiac. pisces sun / libra moon / leo rising gender. male (ish) pronouns. he / they romantic orientation. homoromantic sexual orientation. homosexual occupation. pianist / influencer / model species. human birthplace. raleigh, north carolina, united states current home. new york city, ny, us nationality. he's never asked beyond being american ethnicity. just another dumbass white boy language(s). english parents. president elain barrish, former president bud hammond siblings. twin brother - douglas hammond other family members. lydia martin - basically a sister thanks significant other + children.  canon: mieczyslaw stilinski-hammond (husband) @mieczlw jason stilinski-hammond (son) @jasnstilnski the bee and jenna cinematic universe: antonio dominico marcus rizzotti marvel au: bucky barnes @whtwclf faceclaim. thomas doherty hair. brown + short eyes. baby blues height. 6 ft build. as an addict: too skinny for his own good when sober: muscular from getting addicted to the gym dominant hand. left scars. one of his left arm from the singular time he shot up, plenty of scars on his chest and back for boys who were too rough both in the bedroom and in the bar tattoo. many small pieces in easily coverable places piercings. one on his right ear, many on his left ear, had an eyebrow piercing decided against it, nose stud and septum vurrent positive traits. sensitive, whimsical, romantic, charming, artistic, gentle, love of beauty and harmony negative traits. gullible, gregarious, dependent, cagey likes. giving and receiving gifts, sweets, coffee, massages, cocaine (unfortunately), fuck boys (even more unfortunately) dislike. being wrong, being proven wrong, fears & phobias. disappointment, drowning wishes & dreams. to not be in the spotlight because of his family, but instead because of himself. mbit. ESFP - The Entertainer moral alignment. neutral evil enneagram type. type 3 - the achiever

biography.

 THE GOLDEN SON  𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. now imagine the feeling of floating away into the nether reaches of space. imagine the way slipping up into the air would make you feel – do you feel the air around you at all? is there enough oxygen to make the trip sliding up through the sky and into the unknown worth it? or will the whole experience just leave you clawing at your own skin because it’s burning from the inside out without the attentive oxygen filling up your pores?

the headline read : 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲 but there’s nothing golden about the downward decent into enveloping madness. he was not born mad ( and really is anyone? ) but had the madness set upon him by the events that took place. born ninety seconds before his twin brother douglas, thomas james hammond was smiling when he came out into the world. it may be hard to tell now, but from that first moment he has always known that he wanted to experience all that life had to offer. the happiness didn’t end much at all in the first ten years of his life ( except for when it did, but according to doctors he was simply a growing boy with a growing mind ). even through the first campaign and moving into the white house ( seven year olds still in awe that they have this much space to play in ) his smile stayed so strong. there were things that made it even brighter : his brother, his mama, telling stories with a flashlight under the blanket long past their bedtime. but there was one thing that kept him happy, kept the madness at bay when it threatened to show its burning head.

music never wanted to kill him. while it may be an artist’s curse to feel everything so fucking fully, it isn’t the art form that grabbed him with sharp jaws. he picked up his first piece of sheet music at three years old, and everyone in the family broke out the camcorders. 𝐨𝐡 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 they’d say as he banged tiny fingers on keys. those tiny fingers grew into the keys. passion and music weaved together, only those within his most inner circle allowed to see what really showed. books upon books begin to get filled through the years. music notes that look like water as they swim across the pages of score sheets. his happiness isn’t dependent on his music, but his music has always and will always provide him with natural serotonin that he chases after in the powder of small bags.

fear and loathing keep him from doing well in school. doug is the favorite twin with grades and extra curriculars that fill out the resume how every college wishes it would. he’ll go to princeton or yale or harvard or wherever the fuck he wants and tj instead knows exactly where he’s headed ( 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 ) but his steps to get there are the difficult part. first he must survive high school : where his best friends are snow and addie. they provide the blanket of protection he needs when he finds himself on the wrong side of his first tmz article.

the first son is a fag? it didn’t say that, but when he read it it really may as well have. the world plucked him from the closet just before y2k ; a fifteen year old boy with a life sentence. first came tmz, then the times article, and then before he knew it he’s suddenly the country’s most famous gaybie. to america that makes him their sweetheart, but the world never knows what sweethearts do when they’re craving sweet tarts.

the same year he found himself on the wrong side of a conversation. while the world doesn’t know it, having your father be the 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚 really makes these trying times much easier to keep undisclosed, he knows the truth of it all. the good ole boy’s private school couldn’t have a drug addicted slut making a bad name for their school, so they banished him to the other realm. or you know. . . expelled him. he finds himself in the countryside of france for the next two years where catholicism is the ruling decree and drug addicts rule the halls. it’s here he rules the school with charlotte arnold by his side, and cross my heart and hope to die those two are a dangerous duo.

college isn’t for everyone, but for a hammond it is an expectation. he’ll start his education one place, and eventually end it in another. the location doesn’t matter : after all there are phones on cameras and street corners now. his antics can destroy his life no matter what he ends up. wherever he is, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬.

 COCAINE DREAMS  and what about the snow? playing in the white confection as the world keeps spinning around you. it’s comfortable, holding you and keeping you warm when the world outside is desperately freezing. why wouldn’t you jump into it’s open arms that widen more for you? it doesn’t feel good to leave it’s grasp so you stay there. where you are wanted. where you are needed. 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝.

he feels everything so fully that even empathy doesn’t cover it. with elders describing his symptoms as a side effect of drug abuse, tj knows the symptoms came first. 𝐢𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 ( and if only when he screamed it was outside of his mind ) they wouldn’t feel the pain of every time he runs. snow opens her beautiful arms for him and through out his twenties he jumped too far into her arms. some moments were easy – someone at a party helped him sleep it off or his few friends gave him the space to grieve the loss of his sanity. other moments hurt more – nearly dying in a crackhouse in canada just over the border line from buffalo. or the time he thought a bottle of downers was a bottle of uppers and sent himself spiraling more when trying to fix his own problems. he’ll hurt those he loves with every gram that goes up his nose.

after tj and doug turned 24, elaine barrish hammond began her first campaign for president. in a never shocking turn of events, people seemed more interested in a third term of bud ( even though they knew the scandals he locked in his closet ) instead of elaine. he doesn’t care ; after all, a tour de usa means he can find a fuck in all 50 states. they want to use him as a puppet like always? not a person, not a son, but a 𝐭𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞.

she ends up secretary of state, and tj ends up with a forced residency in dc once again. at 25 years old he is beginning to 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠. no one notices when republican senator sean reeves of ohio begins to steal glances at the ex first son. what’s worse is the reciprocation. tj on the wrong end of those glances turns into allowing someone to devour him whole while knowing he’ll spit him up and throw him out. the details of his sobriety, and his happiness, are unfortunately unimportant ( after all, they come at the hands of a false idol ) and instead the focus shifts to the inevitable ending. our sweetheart feels the false love ooze from every pore ; it leaves him as the tears spill from his red rimmed eyes. there’s a car, and a garage, and it’s all he can think to do in a split second. how might a mother, who loves her children with all of her heart despite how she hurts them so, feel when she finds her son no longer inhaling fumes because he’s passed out? ask elaine barrish.

no one knows for over a year, names and pseudonyms being confused and dispersed. forced sobriety normally didn’t work for tj, but this time rehab seemed to get through to him. he can maintain a sense of sobriety, nothing that’s considered illegal or prescribed to others, until 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. the puppet is now a pawn, an article being published on the suicide attempt of america’s sweetheart. he watches the story unfold on the news while sharing a straw to soak up snow on his dealer’s couch.

the rest of his life will never look the same. he realizes that sobriety is a privilege he has to work for. feeling everything makes the lows lower and the highs higher. when no one will name it ( maybe one day a doctor will say the word bipolar to him outloud ) how can you treat it? mania gives him excitement, but with it comes his chest being ripped to shreds by his own mind. 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭, 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭?

[sophieswundergarten]

Things I think about Jackson and Jillson

After they get away from Curtain, I definitely agree that they would live with SQ and Martina in Stonetown.

Jillson gets a job at a bookstore, and she learns that she just loves reading. There weren't a lot of books at the Institute, but SQ's apartment is right next to a bookstore that the Benedict humans frequent, so he's friends with the staff and vouches for Jillson.

Her favourite thing to read is poetry, and she spends all her breaks reading through whatever she can get her hands on. The owners are really nice, and let her borrow whatever books she wants since she's so incredibly careful with them. A couple of times she even tried writing her own poetry, but she keeps it a little secret journal and doesn't let anyone see it. (Except SQ one time and he said it was really good but she felt horribly self-conscious and they never spoke of it again)

Jackson starts working at a pet store, through a similar relationship SQ has with the owners. At first, he is extremely hesitant and only does menial work like restocking and sweeping. But one day one of the puppies escapes and Jackson happens to be nearby. It runs right at him, and even though it scares him a little he catches it, and when the person in charge gets over there, the puppy is totally calm.

They put him in for a trial period, and after a couple days he gets over his fear and does great. He's much happier working with the animals, and he gets to be one of the head dog trainers. All of the critters love him, and he gets a pet snake at some point, since they can't have dogs in the apartment building. (It's a little corn snake and he names him Jason and he loves him)

One day Mr. Benedict and some of the others come to the bookstore, and Jillson freaks out. She hasn't spoken to them since Curtain, and they'd begged SQ not to tell the Benedicts about them staying with him, so she isn't sure how to react. She isn't even paying attention initially, because she's reading, but when they all come up to the cash register she looks up and freezes. In the end, she just does her job without making eye contact or speaking if she can help it.

Mr. B and the kids try to make her comfortable, though Constance almost asks point-blank what she's doing there, but Reynie shushes her. Jillson comes home that day utterly mortified and locks herself in the bathroom to hyperventilate over the situation. Jackson eventually gets her to come out, and they talk through it.

Jillson feels like they probably hate her, and while she knows better now, neither of them were especially kind to the kids while they were at the Institute. Jackson also regrets his decisions, but right then he's more concerned about Jillson, who has decided she's going to quit her job and never leave the apartment again.

However, once Jackson's mostly got her calmed down, there's a knock at the door. The bookstore owners had been talking about how much help Jillson was, and how excited she got when they let her borrow books, so the kids wanted to bring some of their own for her to look at.

SQ lets them in, and of course J&J are terribly nervous, and Jackson tries to cover it by acting super polite and distracting them from Jillson, who has gotten very quiet, but Sticky and Constance go over and start talking to her about her favourite poets, and once SQ tells them that Jackson is working at the pet shop Reynie and Kate have a lot of questions for him about that.

So the two of them relax, and Mr. Benedict invites them over for dinner, and though they're reluctant, SQ and Martina do a lot of cajoling (Since they're way more comfortable with the Benedicts at this point), and they all go. At the end of the night, both them have apologised to each person at least twice, and they thank Mr. Benedict profusely for being so kind to them.

He, of course, is very gracious and tells them they're welcome any time.

A few days later, the two of them show up with (Slightly burnt) cookies and a full apology speech. It takes them a while to understand that they don't have to work for forgiveness, but Martina and SQ help, and they all end up happier for it

[artistic-m3nace]

Project Breakdowns: Wolf's Eye

Masterpost here.

Wolf's Eye Corporations is a pet project of mine that I've been entertaining and changing since I was at least 14. It started out as FNaF AU, then became its own thing as I developed the first comprehensive story universe the majority of my work as an early teenager existed in. When I overhauled everything into Broken Dimensions when I was 17, I almost didn't use Wolf's Eye (then called AEHO, no I don't remember what the acronym was for), but I'm glad I eventually did. Now, WEC is the head of an oligarchal, mob-like quasi-government and runs the Iron Archipelagos (see this for a little info about the Archs).

In short, the 4 stories I have planned for Wolf's Eye follow their co-leaders: Caitie Davis and Jason Alder. Read on for the specifics on each of those, but be warned: there's a lot of death, resurrection, and demonic or godly interference.

Wolf's Eye Corporations: Demon Strike

UPDATED OUTLINE HERE (it's much better please read this one)

Synopsis:

Caitie Davis and Jason Alder grew up together, and always planned to take on Jason's father's company, Wolf's Eye Corporations, when they got out of college. Both of them grew up in the world of weapons manufacturing in the Iron Archs, and they know the risks and twists and turns of the trade, and they know their competitors well. They also know about the Wolf's Eye curses: 1) that all CEOs will become afflicted with lycanthropy, and 2) that every decade, a demon from Hell's Aisle called Myrixel can and will choose to disrupt everything they've worked for. But the have a plan for Myrixel, and Caitie is from a family of lycanthropes, and they both are sure they have the experience and the capability to take over Wolf's Eye when they turn 20.

They're wrong.

Myrixel, being the asshole that he is and holding the grudge against Wilson Alder that he does, makes his move the week after they take over. Caitie hasn't had time to shore up the physical defenses against demonic attacks and possession that protect the main facility and Jason hasn't finished weaving protection magic and rebuilding the firewalls for all of their Living Android staff, and Myrixel knows it. He sweeps in, taking control of their building, their security, and themselves little by little over the course of a week. Then, all at once, he shuts everything down and takes control of Jason, his last attack against Will, his father. Caitie is left to fend for herself against the people she grew up with, from the two mentors who helped raised Jason - Harper and Pitch, brothers - and her best friends, with the entire facility on lockdown. I don't have the specifics of this figured out, but Caitie ends up dead and Jason ends up cursed, his heart permanently stopped and his body hexed to stay "living," more or less a walking corpse bound to be Myrixel's vessel. Myrixel thinks he's won.

Before Caitie dies and before Myrixel moves on, a glitch in his plans crops up. Pitch and Harper, the two oldest Living Androids and lifetime employees of WEC, start to wake up - Myrixel's control on them slips. At first, he doesn't think anything of it. He buckles down on them, and Harper falls back under his control without another spark. Pitch, however, fights back harder, and soon his code is overriding the magitech code of Myrixel's virus-like control - except it isn't code, and as it turns out, you can't possess something twice.

Pitch, with a lifetime of immortal memories back in his head (and a renewed grudge against the asshole who replaced him when he and Harper escaped Hell's Aisles, home of psychoempathic manipulator ghouls and demons like Myrixel), draw the Void Death Rune on Caitie and uses his own weight as a deity-sanctioned quasi-immortal entity to override any request the gods might make of her in exchange for resurrection. Caitie Davis will resurrect in Wolf's Eye in no time flat. And she does.

Pitch and a freshly resurrected Caitie fight Myrixel back to the crack between reality planes he crept through, breaking the age-old curse on the facility and ending his ability to enact demonic wrath on Wolf's Eye or the Archs for the next century. Then, they're left with the aftermath.

Wolf's Eye Corporations: Order of the Puppet Master

WEC:OotPM takes place roughly 15 months after WEC:DS. They're just starting to recover internally, and things are just barely beginning to settle in the wake of Caitie and Pitch's iron-fisted takeover of the Archs when the people they took the title of "top dog" from start to get pissy. The Order of the Puppet Master, led by a student of Nathan Shasear: Corsak Therion, is not happy that their control over the Archs - better known as the weapons arsenal of the multiverse - has been cut off. More importantly, Corsak Therion doesn't like the loss of manpower and the severe drop in the number of pawns under his control.

The story of this one is much less fleshed out than even DS was lol. The gist of it is: Caitie, Jason, and Pitch are trying to deal with the people who were let free from Therion's control, starting with Fractured, Inc. and several local gangs - and a snippy, guarded, asshole-ish android copy of on of Caitie's least favorite people: Auburn Grennit, commander of Therion's local garrison. They track him down and learn that he and a select number of Grennit's posse defected, and that they have information on how to end Therion's reign of terror over the Archs and dozens of other dimensions for good.

It all ends with Sal's crew allying with the WEC invention and testing division, POWERSCRIPT, and their combined forces removing Corsak Therion from power permanently. The only reason Sal and Caitie don't kill him, actually, is because Pitch and Jason recognize that there are other things they need to do before that - like freeing everyone else under his control. He gets put in the POWERSCRIPT supermax and the Order of the Puppet Master is disbanded.

Wolf's Eye Corporations: Cut the Strings

WEC:CtS happens contemporary with Hunting Shadows, part of the Afterdeath arc that follows the untitled sequel to Coalition Collection, which means it takes place in 2048 E-10, over a decade after WEC:OotPM and after the Battle of vel-Adreoni. It's pretty loosely planned, but here's the cut notes from my Milanote:

Follows Kamara Anderson, Sal, and Jason as they chase the escaped Corsak Therion across dimensions and then back to the Archs as he begins to recollect his forces to remove Wolf's Eye from power and destroy Caitie Davis. Settles for destroying Jason when he and Sal hunt him down and trace him back to Auburn Grennit's former garrison location. Therion reveals he was in prison because he wanted to be, bc he wanted to know how Caitie and Sal beat him the first time - chalks it up to dumb amateur luck.

Jokes on him Jason still can't die. His soul / consciousness hides itself in Sal when he goes back to Grennit's underground facility and to end Therion for good and recover Jason's body. Reveals himself shortly before his own funeral, scares the shit out of everyone, most of all Sal, when he takes over.

Ultimately ends in Therion dying as Wolf's Eye and the Eagrisses (Dariia and Hectis) team up to end his reign of terror for good. Caitie comes back from Hunting Shadows shortly after he's defeated, finds out Jason is dead, and that's when he takes control of Sal to tell her he's okay (sort of).

They end up making Jason an android body for him to inhabit instead and it's a whole thing

( If you haven't caught on, Wolf's Eye gets all the wild stories lol. )

Wolf's Eye Corporations: Dark Phoenixes

WEC:DP takes place in 2050 E-10, about two years after the untitled sequel to Coalition Collection and WEC:CtS and introduces Adira's twin children, Farlan and Kirose when Farlan's tomb and the man himself (in a magic-related coma) are found in the Archs. Milanote notes:

While on a long run through the WEC property's forest trails to help calibrate Jason's new android body (they go through several models before getting it right), he and Caitie come across a clearing with broken warding runes on the surrounding pillars and call in for an investigation team. What they find is a near-tomb dedicated to Polaris Umbrana Eagriss (aka Farlan), who is in a coma encased in stone in the cap of the pyramid. They call in Hectis, who tears up on the spot and eventually calls Adri.

with Adira's protective enchantments gone and crumbling, Hectis is able to decrypt the rest and wake Farlan in the security of the POWERSCRIPT experimental bio-mechanical wing (also doubles as the medical wing for potentially unstable magic users). He wakes in a frenzy, eventually is calmed. Is caught up to speed on the past 2000 years over the course of a few days, then breaks out to go find his crew and ship after asking Hectis is he wants to come. He sputters and doesn't answer quick enough, so Farlan shadow jumps to the nearest port without him and take a warp pad to Nova Aurelia, and goes from there

Caitie, Hectis, Jason, the POWERSCRIPT medic who treated him, and Adri run across the multiverse to track down Farlan, and find him in a pirate-ran crime archipelago in the ruins of Darekaeii, standing vigil (read: staring with tragic sorrow) at his Starship sitting in the docks, his crew frozen in stone onboard. He tells them what he remembers last, which is his mom taking over his ship and crew and making him see them vaporize. He's glad they're not vaporized but... his two best friends are up there, and seeing them like that isn't great for his psyche.

they infiltrate the pirate palace to try and find a way to unlock the ship from the docks, only to find that Aquilo Fier'rosa (his twin, aka Kirose) is the queen of the place. Turns out she's the one with the fleet keeping Darekaeiin Voidspace treacherous - she was trying to keep people out and away from Shadow Town while her mother carried out her sadistic plans. She's still pissed at Farlan though bc he messed up her trade routes carnally before they were removed from the equation. They duke it out, she send her goons after him, and Caitie and Hectis end up just breaking the ship free.

Adri, terrified and breathless after running from a pack of maniacal pirates and jumping an insane height and distance onto a Starship: "what, do you guys just do this for fun or something??" Caitie, Hectis, and Farlan: "yes"

final part: after freeing his crew, Farlan takes Hectis and Adri back to the island with a flag of truce raised and offers his sister his help in fixing her curse. She agrees, and hands off command to her SIC to head back to Wolf's Eye. (Ship has been fitted with Void-travel tech). On the way there, they're confronted by a shadowy figure that Hectis drives away, fear in his eyes, and the final words of the story have something to do with Nathan Shasear (reference to having bigger problems, straight up saying he's back, cursing the old myth of Hekata abandoning his student, etc)

( Kirose is solid metal from her mid-thigh down, and some of her fingers don't have feeling entirely due to how the curse to freeze her as a metal statue failed. Farlan still has fuzzy hearing and his feet and hands regularly go numb and tingly, but he can still use them. Kirose has braces she can use to walk that superheat her metal legs, but she can't wear them for long or it'll reach past the metal and burn her skin (and it hurts to walk anyway) )

[folkpunkchicken]

Everything Leads Up To Now

I could feel my back stiffen up as I leaned back against the hard wooden church pew. Sitting there only a few minutes waiting for Pete's dad to get up and speak felt like hours. Staring at the front of the empty pulpit I couldn't help but to imagine the last few days leading up to this moment.

I wrapped my arms around my torso and clenched both my biceps with my fists as I felt a shiver shoot throughout my entire body just like I would imagine a lightning strike to feel like. The building was cold, both temperature wise as well as from the lifeless air that you could hear from the silence of the congregation breathing aloud while mourning silently.

I didn't listen to a word that Pete's father spoke, but when he got down from the pulpit the preacher got up to say a few closing words.

I laid my head back against the pew and stared blankly up at the ceiling. I only understood about every other word which the preacher was reading aloud. He was reading from the book of, uh, John, I think. "Do not let...hearts...troubled, blah blah, something something..." I zoned out after that. Not that I ain't into religion or nothin', in fact I actually kind of enjoy hearing what some preachers have to say, spiritual things just weren't on the front of my mind. I was afterall only a fourteen year old kid. Instead, I liked to think about things like tuff cars and fast women. Right now however, the only thing on my mind was replaying the events of the last few days.

I looked over to see Sally sitting with her family as she read the back of her favorite MxPx album pamphlet. She always carried with her the words to whatever pop punk record she was listening to on her Walkman CD player.

I looked to my other side and didn't see anyone else I recognized. "Where's Erik?" I asked my brother Jason who was sitting next to me.

"Shush!" He motioned with his index finger over his thin, chapped lips.

I slowly turned my whole body around in my chair to see over my shoulder. Erik was sitting in the very back pew all by himself.

He didn't come to church all that often, none of us did, but Pete’s funeral was of course the exception. We were all a bunch of punks with no money and most of us a felt uncomfortable around church folks. We lived in a small very strict and ol' fashioned very religious town.

We didn't have nothin' a'gainst God or anything. I didn't even mind the whole Jesus story for that matter. Mostly we disliked wealthy religious people, who couldn’t give rats ass about those of us who struggled every month to make ends meet, especially folks like Erik and his parent’s who were always working multiple jobs and still could’nt stay on top.

Erik, who had moved to the neighborhood a few years ago was my best friend. His house was a few houses down from the abandoned lot where we all hung out and was just up the street from Jason and I’s apartment building. Erik’s house was always a dump, but they were the poorest people I knew.

Before Erik, no one had actually lived in that house. Usually, whoever owned it tried to fix it up and flip it, but the next owner would always trash the place again. It was an ongoing cycle. Erik was a year younger than me. He was quiet and shy, like a wide eyed innocent puppy. However, once you got to know him he was a pretty chill dude.

He was a tall, skinny looking fella, with a wide set jaw, and bright, but timid eyes. He had short dark hair that he spiked straight up using an ungodly toxic amount of gell.

He actually didn’t hangout with any of us much at first, but he had taken the fall for me once when I tried pulling a prank on the teacher. I had put a thumb tack in the teacher's pair of slippers who is a real prick sometimes. I don't usually hate teachers, in fact I get along with most grown ups, just not that one.

I don't know why Erik took the fall for me that day. I hadn't even said two words to him yet. Then again, no one ever knows why Erik does the things he does. He's a good kid, but he is crazy. Not wild and charismatic like you might think, rather, more of a secret genius kind of crazy. He was always taking things apart and learning how they work. He over thought everything and would plot schemes on how to get around obstacles in pretty much every facet of life. He always knew from the beginning what his end goal was, and nothing would ever get in his way to stop him. He was a little bit of a know-it-all, and the worst part was he knew it. He did things just to get on peoples nerves and prove that he was smarter than them.

I figured that he probably wanted to make an impression on the teacher as being a bad boy type.

Erick was always working on building things too. He had a very mechanically inclined mind. You know those people who can just look at an object and know off the top of their head how the thing works, how to take it apart, and how to fix it.

He was obsessed with his truck, well his dad's old truck. An old, rusty Ford Bronco. Honestly, it was a piece of crap, didn't even run, and belonged in a junkyard. None of us dared tell him that though; he was convinced that he could fix it. Nobody ever questioned anything that Erik did. Everyone just assumed that he knew what he was doing, and the thing was, he usually did. Even the teachers avoided calling on him in class, because they were afraid of being outsmarted by a thirteen year old.

Most days after school, before hanging out with the gang doing whatever we were doing, which was usually smoking a pack of cancer sticks and listening to music, Erik went straight home to work on his truck. He would spend all afternoon fixing whatever piece of junk he was currently obsessed with. Currently he was obsessed with that old truck, he absolutely loved that thing to death. Oh, and did I mention he loved his truck. He had made a deal with his father that if he took the whole entire engine apart, put it back together, and got the thing running again it would be his own. He was the most determined one of us.

We were teenagers now, but he would’ve enjoyed being a kid with us back in the day when we used to play there at the vaccant lot. We would use the lot to play football well after dark, but we're too old for that stuff now. As far as any of us were concerned, we all were ready to be adults and be done with all the stupid kid stuff. We couldn't wait 'till we were old enough to drink, well legally anyway, get in bar fights, and go to parties. The truth is we were all pretty decent kids. The worst thing that any of us had really done was sneaking candy in our pockets from the drug store just down the street before going to the movies. Sometimes, I guess we'd also make fake copies of the movie tickets, but honestly that's about it mostly.

I stood up and walked out to the aisle. I felt awkward leaving so abruptly, but I really needed to take a piss. Hell, Pete would understand. In fact, he would think it was kinda funny.

I walked up the aisle with my head down, trying to keep my eyes looking directly at the grayish, multicolored carpet lining the floor. I looked up once to turn the corner towards the little white side door instead of making a scene opening the main oversized ornate wooden double doors. This one old grumpy looking man stared intently at me in a judging manner, so I quickly glanced down at my feet which were somehow frozen in place. In that split second someone just in that very long and drawn out moment sneezed real loud. He had let out a roar as loud as a typical dad sneeze. A few people turned their heads only to see me standing there awkwardly slouched and hunched forward with my fists jammed in my pockets trying to look as innocent as possible.

I felt like the whole congregation was waiting for me to apologize or something. It was extremely awkward so I high tailed it outta there. While I was walking to the back everyone all at once stood straight up while an image with words appeared on the projector screen above the stage. An organ began to play while the church started to sing in a monotone unison. As the distraction allowed for the feeling of sluggish slow motion to be lifted like a curse on my body, I took the opportunity to slip out the side door.

I stood there in the bathroom letting out a sigh of relief.

I heard the door open and an older gentleman walked up to the urinal right next to mine without any regard for the spacing rule. I tried to ignore him when he spoke, “How’s it going.”

“Fine,” I replied. After finishing I washed my hands while the old man left.

“God damn it!” I muttered under my breath. I always thought that public restrooms are awkward, especially for someone like me who is pee shy. By the third or fourth person walking up to the urinal next to yours you feel like everyone is judging you for not going yet and probably thinking you're some sort of pervert for just standing there stairing at the wall.

Before going back inside I stood out in the foyer for a minute staring at the memorial of Pete which was displayed very nicely on the table next to the large wooden double doors.

I stepped towards the doorway and put my hand against the decorative handle grasping it firmly. I didn't want to go back inside. Just before I pushed it open, I stopped and shook my head. Trying desperately not to let out sorrowful tears I spun around and walked towards the exit door.

"I need a cigarette," I said to myself as I walked briskly outside into the cool fresh air.

Standing outside with a lit cigarette between my index and middle finger I stared meaninglessly at the parked cars in the parking lot. I couldn't stop thinking about the other day when Pete had gone off to fight his rival Jackson Pierce. What if I would've tried to stop him? "Nah," I thought. Pete was two years older and a whole lot bigger than I was. He lived for fighting and stirring up trouble. There was nothing I could've done.

I blinked several times, then took another puff of my cigarette as I remembered that day like one of those weird childhood memories that you can't shake because for some stupid reason it's burned into your brain. I remembered clear as day the last time I saw Pete alive, right before he went off to the fight.

I stared blankly up at the cloudy grey sky while taking another puff from my cigarette and remembering the day Erik and I found Pete's backpack and decided to show Sally what was inside.

"What is it?" Sally asked as I set the bag down in front of her. We found this backpack in the vacant lot the other night. We’re certain that the backpack belongs to Pete’s because it had the science book from school with his weed stash in it.

“Well of course that’s his bag,“ Sally replied.

She knew most things about Pete. The two of them were pretty tight and even though she would deny it, Sally always kind of had thing for Pete.

He was the wild and crazy bad boy of the gang. Not to bright academically though, but that didn’t stop him from being a smooth talking badass, especially around girls and cops. I didn't know anyone else who could talk his way in and out of any situation. That dude had a different chick on his arms practically every other week. Most of the girls in our school eventually started to hate him for it, but as usual they fell right back into his arms when he opened his mouth to speak. Pete could hold a conversation with anyone. I don't mean that he was annoying like the kind of people who drone on and on so much that you could put the phone down, go make a sandwich and come right back answering with a simple, "ah huh." He could talk to people with a sort of charisma that always held their attention with his dark brown eyes and his thick, curly, jet black hair. It didn't even really matter that he wore glasses either. He wore them with style and they were a part of his look. Pete lived three doors down the street from me in a horribly trashy house. His parents worked all the time, and when they didn't they were at the bar. After his older half brother moved out, Pete basically raised himself, and boy did he teach himself to be a slob, but it was part of his charm. He didn't give two cents about nothin'. He was always looking for a good time and would constantly leave a mess of trouble wherever he went.

Pete was a tough badass sixteen year old punk which is probably why Sally was so enthralled with him. Hell we all admired Pete. The three of us weren’t at all surprised when I pulled out the pistol that supposedly belonged to Pete out of the backpack.

Sally’s face froze for a second, but then no one would be too surprised that Pete would have a gun.

It was loaded with three extra magazines in the bottom of the bag. None of us knew much about guns and we had no idea why in the world Pete would have one. He was more of a punk than any of us and had even been arrested for misdemeeners a couple of times, but he’d never kill anyone,...we thought.

"Jonah, don't let anyone see you with that," Sally said to me with a slight panic in her voice.

I quickly put the gun back into the bag.

"Listen up, we can't tell nobody 'bout this, got it," I said sternly while looking around to make sure no one was watching us.

At that I slung the backpack over my shoulder and stood up.

I'm gonna head home, and remember, not a word of this to anyone.

As I walked home it began to get dark very quickly. I flipped up my hood, slouched my shoulders forward, and pulled out a cigarette from my jacket pocket. A moment after lighting it up, I heard a voice call out from behind me.

"Hey Kid!" I whipped my head around over my slouched shoulders to see a tall and bulky, dark skinned teenage boy with neatly styled, slicked back hair shouting at me. "Tell your buddy that I'm going to kill him for slashing my tires!" He shouted.

I nodded and turned back around to continue walking home. I wasn't all that afraid of him. He was a senior in high school, but the dude was all talk. Pete told me once that Jackson Pierce only pretended to be tough, but he didn’t have the balls to actually fight anyone.

Anyway, his beef was with Pete, not me, so I had nothing to worry about, I thought. Those two always hated each other for one reason or the other and to be honest no one ever really knew why they were such rivals.

"You listenin' to me kid!" I turned around again only to find a blur of a person shouting while hurling towards me at full speed. Knowing I couldn't outrun him, I bent my knees, leaned forward, prepared to take the hit.

Bam! He knocked me flat on my ass and pinned me to the ground as he pressed his knee against my chest. "Where is your friend Pete?" He yelled at me. "How the hell should I know?"

I said trying to catch my breath with Jackson's knee still pressed against my chest ever so slowly squeezing the air out of my lungs.

He finally stood up allowing me to breath. I lied there for a second unable to move. Jackson bent over to pick up my still lit cigarette which was lying on the ground. As far as I knew the kid didn't smoke or drink, like at all. He was an athlete, best in the school. He didn't need the buzz being the cocky son of a bitch that he acted like. Not to mention he didn't want to lose his precious wrestling scholarship. After taking one puff, he flicked the cigarette off into the street and kicked me real hard in the side.

"Get your fat ass up off the ground and go tell your buddy I'll be waitin' for him behind the old Seven Eleven. Tell him toe be there within the hour! Ya hear me ya lil' punk?"

I nodded.

"Now scram!"

I stood up and grabbed the backpack which was lying next to me.

"Leave the bag here kid!"

"Why do you want it?" I asked.

"None of your business," he scolded. "What's in this thing anyways?" He asked as he snatched the backpack from my hands.

I held my breath as he unzipped the bag, but then quickly zipped it back up and slung it over his shoulder.

I was relieved.

"Get goin, I don't got all night," he scolded.

I got up quickly and ran as fast my legs could carry me while looking back over my shoulder every few minutes to make sure Jackson Pierce wasn't following me. He was still just standing there in the middle of the street with his arms crossed while staring directly at me with an angry look on his face. I didn’t know what to think about him having Pete’s gun. Was he gonna shoot him? I honestly wouldn't be surprised. Jackson Pierce was known for being kind of irrational and impulsive. Him with a gun was a scary thought. "Maybe, I'll stay home from school for a few days," I muttered quietly under my breath as I turned my head back around and continued running.

I got the end of the block and turned running towards Pete's house.

A million things were racing through my mind as I kept running. "Why did Pete slash Jasckson’s tires. They’ve always hated each other, but it was always more of a harmless rivalry, never actual fighting. "Are they really gonna kill each other this time." My mind was full of questions and knowing Pete he would keep everything to himself as usual.

By the time I arrived at Pete’s house I wanted to die and was ready to about puke my guts out from running. "Damn!" I thought, "I am really outta shape."

I opened up the gate and walked up to the porch. I held up my hand to ring the doorbell when the door suddenly opened. I jumped back as I saw Pete was standing there. I didn't expect him to answer. Quiet frankly, I figured by this time of night he'd be out drinking, as he usually does. He takes after his folks that way. "Wat up kid?" He asked. Bent over trying to still catch my breath I stammered out a bunch of words. My lips were moving so fast that I didn't even understand what I was saying, "Jackson...Pierce just...attacked…me stole your back… that I found…in the vaccant lot.” I took a deep breath. “He said he wants you meet him behind Seven Eleven within the hour.

I stopped and took another deep breath.

"Damn that's a mouth full." Pete said with a laugh as he grabbed his jacket from behind the door and stepped outside.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Can’t keep him waiting, that dude’s crazy." Pete replied.

"But, wait hold on a minute. In the backpack. The gun.

"Yeah, I know." Pete grinned and cocked his head back. "Don't worry kid, he just owes me some money so I slashed the tires on his precious Camero. I’ll handle it.

Go on home and I'll call you in the morning."

“Why did you have a gun though,” I asked.

“Stole it from my old man for protection,” Pete casually replied like it was nothing.

“Now scram bud, I’ll hit ya up tomorrow for an early morning smoke.”

That was the last time I ever saw Pete alive.

Suddenly, I opened my eyes after apparently drifting off to sleep and felt Jason grabbing my arm saying in a harsh tone, "Get your ass back in your seat kid. You’ve been out here for ten minutes already. Not even I take smoke breaks that long," Jason said with a laugh.

Jason dragged me up the steps and back inside the church to my seat. I thought it was embarrassing to leave, but having my big brother haul my ass across the church floor in front of the entire congregation was a nightmare. I sat down and looked up towards the stage at Pete's mother who had just began speaking.

"Ugh," I sighed aloud. "This isn't how we should be honoring Pete." I muttered under my breath.

Pete was wild and reckless. He was most definitely not the goody two shoes church boy type.

I looked around the room and saw Sally still nose deep in her album booklet. Erik was alseep in the back row and the clock hanging above his head read half past noon. My stomach growled. “We’ve been here almost an hour,” I whispered to myself again under my breath. Damn funerals, why do they gotta be so long?

I could eat an entire pizza and slam a six pack of beer right now. That’s how we should be honoring Pete. Beer and pizza, that was his communion. I leaned my head back against the pew and remembered the time that Erik and I turned in a trash bag full of soda pop cans and used the change to buy a couple slices of pizza. That was the night we found the backpack late at night in the vacant lot.

"Ya got anything to eat 'round here?" Sally asked Erik as she rummaged through his fridge.

"Nah, not really," Erik responded. " The fridge is empty and mom can't buy more groceries until dad gets paid next Friday."

"That sucks," she replied.

"If y'all want though we can take the bin of soda cans I collected down to the drug store and use the money to buy a pizza at the gas station or something?" Erik suggested.

It was then that it hit me just how poor Erik's family actually was. My brother and I were poor too, but Jason always managed to at least have extra food around when we were hungry. I never imagined needing to collect soda cans and bottles to take in for spare change just to buy dinner. I felt kind of bad for him, even though I knew he didn't care what anybody thought. It still bothered me a little.

"Sure," Sally said as she jumped up. "Sounds like a good idea. I'm starving."

"Yo Erik, how'd it'd go with your old lady when you broke that window the other day?" I asked.

"It's all good," Erik replied. I got grounded for the week though so y'all will have to get outta here before my parents get home later tonight."

We followed Erik out to the garage where he kept a plastic bag on a red, Radioflyer wagon, filled up with pop cans. As He was fastening it to his bike, Sally and I were looking around the garage, mostly at his truck. "So how far are you until you get this thing runnin," I asked, pointing at the old truck.

"My old man and I are gonna work on it next week." Erik said, "We gotta get a few parts though as soon as he gets paid. I’m hoping we should have it running in a couple weeks or so, but it all depends on whether or not my dad will loan me the cash for the parts.

"I still think it's a piece of crap," Sally said as she rolled her eyes. "Ah shit!" She exclaimed.

"What is it?" Erik and I both asked simultaneously.

"I left my headphones and CD player on the ground at the lot."

"No worries," Erik said calmly. "We'll swing by and grab ‘em."

We opened the garage to go outside and started walking our bikes towards main street. We stopped by my house first to get my bike, then ran over to the lot. Sally looked around frantically not seeing her headphones anywhere, until all of a sudden with a tear in her eye she shrieked as she pointed to the ground. Erik stayed by the sidewalk with our bikes as I ran over to her.

Sally picked up the busted and smashed CD player with her headphoness smashed up too.

"Who would do such a thing?” I asked trying to stay calm for Sally’s sake.

“It was probably those kids from the other day. The one’s from that fancy prep school who Pete had been harassing,” Sally answered me trying not to cry.

Damn it!” She yelled

"Sally, it'll be fine. We'll all chip in and get you a new one."

"They're going to pay!" She screamed as she whipped her head around at me. "Tomorrow afternoon we’ll get Pete to join us and then were gonna beat the shit out of them!"

After Sally started to calm down we walked back over to Erik who was still waiting with the bikes. In this neighborhood you don't dare leave your bike unattended, not even for a second.

"What's wro--ng, oh shit, I'm sorry Sally. That sucks."

"Y'all go on without me," she said.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yea, just go. I need some time alone, besides I’m serious about calling Pete tomorrow were gonna make those prep school brats pay. "

Erik and I hopped on our bikes and rode off.

Sally really was heart broken. The CD player was a gift from her brother before he left for the military about a year and a half ago. After he went MIA, it as all she had left of him.

Sally and I were close. She once told me that the CD player was the same one her brother stole from a record shop in town for her because their family couldn’t afford it. I knew just how much it meant to her. Sally and I often would play video games for hours and listen to music on that old walkman. She was easily the toughest girl I knew. She was tall, and had dark, coarse red hair that was always in a ponytail. She had a small round nose and a face full of freckles. Sally was definitely a tomboy if there ever was one, and she was one hell of a punk, more than any of us. I could tell we needed to give her some space. Her huge clunky headphones she wore around her neck blasting music from that CD player was who she was’ it was her identity and I knew she was really upset.

I turned my head around to see Sally kneeling on the ground with her red high top sneakers behind her and her ripped camouflage jacket pulled over her head, holding her CD player and sobbing uncontrollably. She briefly looked up to see me staring. We made eye contact and then she quickly turned herself around so as to not be seen. I knew that she wanted us to leave so we wouldn't see her cry like that. It was an unspoken rule in the group that if you needed to cry over something, you kept to yourself and no one else in the group would judge you for any reason. Sally especially didn't want to be seen crying. She was rough and tough. She never wanted anyone to see her fragile side, which we all knew was there, but didn't even dream of speaking about.

Erik and I made our way to the drug store a few blocks away. We parked our bikes and the wagon outside where I waited as Erik carried in the bag of cans.

“Six dollars and fifty-two cents,” Erik said as he walked back.

“That should be enough for us each to get a slice of pizza and maybe a tall boy that we can split” I said.

We hopped on our bikes and rode across the street to the gas station where we bought two slices of peperoni and pizza and a tall boy of busch light. They never check ID’s there so we could always buy alcohol and cigerettes whenever we wanted.

We walked our bikes so that we could eat our pizza but when we got back to Erik's place, his mom was already home so we decided to head to the vacant lot to drink the beer. Sally had left already. We dropped both of our bikes by the edge of the street where we could clearly see them and then walked over to the big tree.

“What’s that?” Erik pointed to a dark gray backpack sitting next to the large sycamore tree.

Erik unzipped the backpack and a handgun tumbled out onto the ground.

“What the hell!” I exclaimed. “Whose is that?”

“I think it belongs to Pete, look at this.” Erik said as he pulled out a third edition science textbook. We both knew that it was the book Pete kept of course not for reading, but solely to stash a small bag of dope. Erik opened the book and there it was a small ziplock bag with a hand full of marijuana in it. The backpack belonged to Pete and so most likely did the gun.

“We need to get this out of here.” Erik said.

“I can’t take it. If Jason finds this on me he’d skin me alive.” I explained.

“No worries,” Erik assured me. “I’ll hang on to it, ya know my folks won’t give a rats ass."

Erik quickly put the gun back into the bag and zipped it up. "I'll get this home before anyone sees."

"Sounds good," I replied. "My brother has a date tonight so I'm gonna stay out here a little longer."

I waved goodbye as Erik got on his bike to ride home.

Taking the last swig of beer, I crunched the can in my hand and tossed it behind me. I lied down on my back to look at the stars as I fell asleep.

Pete's mother finished speaking and got down from the podium starting to cry. She's such a bee with an itch. Honestly, she didn't give two shits about her children. Pete was her youngest and all she would tell him was that he was a god damn good for nothing except to sign the rent check when she wasn't sober enough to sign her own name, which was all the time. Pete's father weren't no better either. That man was a lazy ass drunk who didn't do shit with his life. Despite having such shitty parents both Pete and his older brother Jeff were actually really solid dudes. Jeff was the last person to get up and speak. Unlike his parents who were dressed as poorly as Erik's house usually looked, Jeff wore a nice suit and tie with what remained of his hair neatly combed back. He owned a bar in town and of course took to the family legacy of being an alcoholic, but usually had enough sense to be sober enough to function in life. He didn't have much given to him, if anything at all, but he always made the best out of every situation that he found himself in. That was something I really admired about him. Despite not always showing it, that’s what Pete had admired about his brother too. Jeff had gone to school with Jason before they both dropped out to buy the bar that Jeff now owns. Jason was gonna co-own the business, but at the last minute decided to take a construction job in order to take care of me and pay the bills after our mom passed away. Honestly, it’s something I still blame myself for, but Jason always reassures me that it was for the best.

We were poor, but we did alright for ourselves. Last summer I even worked on my brother’s construction crew and saved up enough to buy myself an xbox. We didn't have a lot growing up, but that didn't matter to us. We had each other.

Jason, used to tell me stories about all the crazy parties that he attended while in highschool back before mom died and dad left.

I really didn’t mind living with my brother in his tiny apartment on the edge of the neighborhood, although sometimes it was annoying having to share a bedroom and all. He often acted like he was a parent and not a brother. I guess he was really the only thing I had to a parent though and his place was the only option I had for a living arrangement. Every now and then I stayed over at Pete’s house, but last time I almost got punched in the face by his drunk father so I usually avoided staying there unless I had too. Jason’s apartment was old, outdated, and dingy, but it is what I called home.

My big brother had always been there for me growing up, even right after mom had died and he was working two full-time jobs. Living with him was better than going to stay with my father as he left the family when I was four years old. According to Jason, who was ten years old at the time, my old man was a real butthead and drug addict. He didn't even technically leave, our mom kicked him out of the house after he had blown his entire paycheck on drugs and gambling. He never has returned since.

Working at a decent size convenient store in the next town over, our mother made just enough to barely make ends meet the best that she could and raised us actually pretty damn well under the circumstances, that is until she got diagnosed with breast cancer and passed away. At her funeral was the first and only time that I have ever seen Jason cry. He always told me that a real man don't cry, but once in a lifetime everyone deserves to be upset about something. Our father made a surprised and uninvited appearance completely wasted. My poor brother had to escort him outside of the building. He got up and tackled the man to the ground. I had never seen someone move so dang fast. After he landed him on the ground, he punched him once in the gut and one time in the face. I think he broke dad's nose, at least I hope that he did. Jason was pissed that dad had showed up at all let alone being drunk. My brother stepped up though and made sure he left us alone. He always looked out for everyone no matter what it cost him.

I’ll never forget the time a few years back when he took Pete and I out fishing for the day. He stole and hot wired Billy Nickel’s blue 1969 Mustang. Billy was his rival in high school who stole his spot as quarterback for the football team. We drove that car a couple hours outside of town to the old lake that mom and dad would take us too back when, well, back when things were alright. The only thing I really remember about going to the lake with our parents was the tire swing that Jason helped me build, it was still there when he took Pete and I back.

I also remember that the entire day of fishing I didn’t catch a damn thing, which would’ve been fine except Pete and Jason were catching blue gill left and right.

They would cast then real in roughly two minutes later than repeat. It was so funny when Pete finally caught the biggest fish of the day, a big ol’ bass and freaking Pete as tough as he was he was afraid to pull the hook out. Said a fish that big might bite his whole finger off.

Jason pulled the hook out for him and then gave him a pair of leather gloves to wear so Pete could hold the fish for a picture. He convinced him that fish were allergic to leather and it would make it go limp.

Jason was taking the picture and right as the flash went off, to Pete’s surprise the otherwise limp fish flopped back and forth scaring the piss out of him. He chucked the damn thing towards Jason who vollied it out towards the water and somehow managed to lose the camera in the process. We all ran over to the edge of the dock to watch the camera slowly sink into the water lower and lower until we could no longer see the bright Kodak orange wrapping. Before we could say anything Pete was stripped down to his underwear and dove head first into the water. Jason and I just started laughing until after about a minute or two Pete emerges with the that bright orange disposable camera. To this day I don’t even know if it can be developed, it’s probably buried in Jason’s closet somewhere.

He said he would take it to the next town over to the CVS where they had a room to develop the film, but he never did. I think the day he was going to, he went to a party with his girlfriend and never thought about that stupid camera again.

After Pete had retrieved the camera he insisted that we pack up and go home because he was freezing and had no towel to dry off. It was also early October in the Midwest so Jason agreed that it’d be good idea to go home. The last thing he wanted was to explain to Pete’s dunken father why he caught a cold and couldn’t leave the house. Whereas most parents wouldn’t think twice about tending to their ill child, Pete’s folks would’ve actually been pissed if they’re kid was stuck inside and needed caring for.

We drove the car to the town closest to ours and dropped it near a park. From there we walked to the bus stop carrying our tackle gear and fishing rods where we rode the bus home. I always liked bus rides, you always meet interesting people. The sort of people you see in Walmart, if we had a Walmart in town. The closest one was a couple hours away and I had only been once. Bus rides though had every kind of unimaginable people you could imagine.

Jason sat in the seat up front and started flirting with the single mom in the seat beside him. Believe it or not she seemed sort of interested. Girls love Jason though, he was a jock and had cool hair.

Pete and I sat towards the back and there was a some old guy with a beard in front of us who was passed out. He was wearing suspenders and sweats while also rocking a sport coat.

The seat next to us was some chick with her hoodie over her head and she was smoking a ciggerete.

I distinctly remember Pete trying to bumb a smoke off of her and she just flipped him the bird. Little did she know, that that made Pete try even harder. Before I knew it he was chatting it up and they may have even exchanged phone numbers, but to be honest I don’t recall.

The bus ride took about an hour or so, I slept most of the way. Jason took us afterwards to the drug store where he bought a six pack of beer. We walked back to the vacant lot. Drinking wasn’t anything new to Pete so he cracked one open and drank it like it was water. I on the other hand hesitated because I had actually naver drank up until this point. Jason lit up a smoke and handed it to me.

“Here this’ll make the beer go down smoother.”

It didn’t, but it was familiar and comforting as smoking was not new to any of us. Before I knew it I was drinking my first beer, actually I had like two or three and since I was only twelve Jason had to carry me home.

“Well I’d better get home I’m beat.” Pete said as he stood up shaking a little. He knew how to drink but two beers deep and only fourteen years old he stumbled a little while he walked home. I was already starting to knod off.

“Jesus kid,” Jason exclaimed. “I should’ve cut ya off at one you’re fallen asleep on me.”

At that my big bro heaved me up over his shoulder and carried me home to our apartment. Those days before Jason had his construction job we were living in a tiny studio that was so small and run down it made our current place feel like a god damn palace.

Here I was again at fourteen years old waking up to Jason carrying me over his shoulder out to the truck. The funeral was over and it was time to go to the cemetery for the burial.

“God, sorry I fell asleep, but shit was that service boring.”

“Don’t worry about it kid, ya’ll been through a lot the last couple of days,” Jason replied in his soft spoken comforting voice.

The procession felt like hours as I sat in the passenger seat trying my hardest not to fall asleep again. We had just turned on to Main street and were stuck between a red Dodge minivan and an old gray Buick. The truck was completely stopped or at least it felt that way as we crept along at under 5 miles an hour. The minivan behind us belonged to Sally’s family. I could see her through the mirror with her brand new SkullCandy headphones that Erik swiped for her from someone at school.

Damn school, I thought. We usually skipped, in fact just the other day Erik and I were walking home after first period when we ran into Pete who was only half sober at the time as usual.

"Whatcha' kids up to?" Pete said in a half drunken slur while catching up to Erik and I who were shuffling our white sneakers through the street with our hands shoved in our jacket pockets. "Nothin legal," I replied with a grin and my head half cocked tryin' to look tough.

"That's what I like to hear," Pete said with a wink while also grabbing my head to give me a noogie.

Everyone did this to me all the time. I would always just put up with it, but to be honest, it irritated the hell out of me. I knew everyone meant well and being only fourteen I was the kid brother of the group even though Erik was actually a year younger than me. I went along with it because none of us ever beat up on Erik the way did each other. The rest of us would tease back and forth but we were all protective of Erik. He had it rough and we all knew it so we didn't mess with him. He had enough shit to deal with at home. Pete ain't much older than me though and I couldn't understand why he's gotta treat me like I'm five? I laughed a little and shrugged it off. We continued to stroll down the street, each with our hands shoved deep into our pockets, shuffling our feet against the pavement, and our shoulders slouched over like a bunch of dirty rough, tough lookin' thugs.

The fresh air felt nice, compared to the stuffy classrooms at school. There was a slight breeze and the sun was shining. Hangin' with your best buds and chillin' was a beautiful way to spend an afternoon rather than a long boring ass day of school.

"Erik? Pete asked, "When your gonna clean up that old house y'all are livin' in?"

"Oh ya know, Erick replied with half of a laugh, "When my old man gets his lazy self around to it."

“That’s gotta be rough man,” Pete put his hand on Erik’s shoulder and almost had a kind face until that four eyed punk smirked his usual charming grin. “Ha, well ya know you can always stay with me,...not that my shithole is much better than yours.” We all had a good laugh as we neared the intersection of the street where the vacant lot was.

Erik's house was quite literally just a stone's throw away. I know this because Erik picked up a smooth sided rock, and said, "Y'all think I can make this over the roof of my house?"

"Probably," I answered, not wanting to bet against Erik.

"Y'all couldn't even hit the broadside of a barn if it came up behind ya and smacked ya in the rear," Pete said while gripping his stomach and throwing his head back with a chuckle.

"Ya know what, Pete continued, "I'll buy ya half of a pack of smokes and a beer if you make that throw."

"Bet," Erik replied with a smirk of confidence..

He stepped backwards, whipped his arm back into a throwing position, and gripped the smooth faced stone so tightly you could see the sweat on his hand. He then lurched forward, launching his arm past his head, chucking the rock towards his house.

Instead of the rock flying up and over and right past the house as planned, it went straight through the open window of the kitchen. We could hear his mom shriek as something made of glass had been shattered. He nearly scared the piss out of her.

She ran outside only to see us already turned around and running through the lot and into the next yard.

Erik made the mistake of looking over his shoulder while he was running and made eye contact with her. Instantly she knew, and you could see the anger in her face begin to swell like a bloated bird.

"Erik! She screamed. "You're grounded for a month young man!"

She stood outside on the porch screaming more and more punishments every second. The impressive thing was that she never seemed to stop and take a breath. It's as if the anger and raged just kept pouring out non stop.

The punishments kept getting more and more creative and severe as she went on.

After a few blocks of running we stopped to catch our breath. We could no longer hear Erik's mom screaming at the top of her lungs.

"Well," Erick started to speak. "Maybe she’s calmed down. I guess I should head home and apologize for whatever I broke." He laughed a little. "Honestly, she don't really care. She just likes to scream at things. She screams at the mailman for putting the mail in the mailbox "upside down." Don't worry, I ain't got nothin' to worry about."

"Well listen Erik," I said, "If you need a place to stay for a while ya know my couch is always open."

"Thanks man, but really, I'll be fine. I just may not see y'all for a few days."

"Let us know as soon as you get out of prison," Pete said as he winked at him.

Pete and I waited walked around for about ten minutes or so before finally heading back over to the vacant lot. Sally was laying on the grass listening to music, and probably sleeping. Pete quietly snuck up behind her and snapped the headphones against her head.

I had just lit up a blunt and Pete was being his usual hilarious self. He really didn’t mean any of it, he was just a butt and liked to joke around.

"What the hell!" She yelled as she jumped up.

Pete snickered, "Sorry, Sal. Ya know me, I couldn't help myself little sis."

She wasn't actually his sister, but Pete being the youngest of one and basically having no parents, treated us all like family.

"It's fine," Sally replied. "I'm just tense, anyone got a cigarette." She looked around on the ground in hopes to find the butt of one at the very least.

"I don't have any Sally." I replied

"Here ya go," Pete handed her one after taking the pack out of his shirt sleeve.

"Thanks, I guess that sorta makes up for you being a jerk," She said with a laugh.

I sat down on the grass leaning against the tree while Pete was casually pacing back and forth.

"Man is there anything fun to do in this stupid town," Pete groaned.

"I just got my allowance. Y'all wanna head to the record store with me? Sally asked.

"Sure I ain't got nowhere to be," I replied.

"What the hell, better than screwing off 'round here," Pete said.

We got up and headed down to the record store in the main part of town. It was about a ten-minute walk or so from the lot which was on the entire other side town if that gives you an idea of just how small this town actually was. On our way there, Pete started harassing some kids from the next town over who went to this fancy ass prep school. I don't know what they were doing around here. Probably bored the same as us only they must’ve had a car. We were always fightin’ with kids from neighboring towns. One of them had on a letterman’s jacket, cuffed jeans, and a shaved head. The other two were both wearing white button down shirts, one had on a brown pair of khakis and the other had on a pair of black dress pants. Their town was a quite a bit bigger than ours and full of mostly pompous ass rich folks.

They started cussing us out so Pete pushed up his sleeves and yelled, "Ya chumps wanna fight or something, cause we'd kick your ass!"

"We ain't afraid of a bunch poor thugs like you!" They yelled back.

"Fine then, Pete yelled as we crossed the street to the record store. "Meet us at the vacant lot on the other side of town at three this afternoon, and don't ya’ll be late!"

They knew exactly where the vacant lot was in our town. The stupid ghost legend made our lot pretty well known around here and by other surrounding towns. We often would get neighboring gangs running through our territory because of that stupid ass legend.

"What are you doing?" I spoke up aggressively, after having been mostly quiet almost the whole walk down.

"Relax kid, they aint gonna show, and if they do, we'll beat the hell out of 'em.

"Whatever," I said as we walked through the door of the record shop.

"Hey boys, the store clerk said as we entered the building. "Oh, sorry Sally," the Clerk apologized. "I didn't see who you were under the ball cap."

"It's fine, she said with a sigh. "I get it all the time."

"Maybe if you didn't dress like such a tomboy and actually tried to show off some of your feminine charm people wouldn't mistake you for one of the guys," Pete teased her.

"Maybe if you didn't act like such an ass all the time I wouldn't do this," Sally punched him real hard in the gut, almost knocking him backwards off of his feet. He clenched his gut, with his shoulders hunched, caught his balance and laughed. "You hit like a guuurl." He teased again. She promptly ignored him as she usually does and then started browsing through the CDs in the record store. Their bantering was always in good fun.

"Y'all ready to go?" She said, holding up the Blink-182 Enema of the State album. The record had been out of Blink records for a hot minute, but Sally was in love with them. She was really into oldie type music from the 90s mostly because of her big brother.

"I can't believe that they had it," she said.

"I still don't understand what you see in them Sallyl," I said with a slight laugh.

"Don't hate, she said. "They're one of my favs and Tom DeLonge is so friggin cool."

"No he's not, I replied. "He's super crazy, but whateves."

We always gave Sally a hard time cause she listened to weird alternative music that was a few years old.

"You should try and listen to some music from this decade lil' sis."

Sally ignored the both of us as she proceeded to pay for the CD.

"Aight, let's get outta this place," Pete whispered after Sally handed the cash to the store clerk.

"What'd you do?" Sally glared at him.

"Let's just get out of here, quickly please," he said again. "Now...ish," as Pete shoved us out the door with one hand while holding his jacket closed with the other.

“Wait, my change,” Sally fought against him.

"Let's run," Pete said as he took off down the sidewalk. We quickly followed him as we heard someone from the back of the store yell, "Hey stop!"

I whipped my head around and saw one of the store clerks shouting at us from the doorway.

While still looking behind me and running I shouted ahead at Pete, "What the hell did you do man?"

"Watch where you're going!" Sally yelled at me as she grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the way of wiping out and planting my face straight into a telephone pole.

"Thanks," I said while still sprinting to catch up with Pete.

"Dumbass," Sally answered, shaking her head and laughing.

We finally caught up with Pete who after turning the corner was now just casually strolling down the sidewalk whistling a toon. I was hunched over with my hands on my knees and my tongue hanging out of my mouth panting like a dog. I was about ready to puke.

"Oh come on Jonah, you're not that outta shape," Sally said sarcastically. The truth is, I was out of shape and starting to get a little chubby too.

"What'd you steal this time Pete?" I asked.

"Just wait 'til we get back to the lot and I'll show ya.

"Give it here!" Sally demanded, as she snatched it out from under his jacket.

She stared at it for a hot minute and then glared at Pete and as she tossed it over her head to the ground behind her.

"Don't do that! Give it back!" Pete exclaimed as he ran over and picked it up off the ground. Then stuffed it back into his jacket.

"What was it?" I asked.

"Nothin' of your concern kid, I'll tell you when...," Pete was answering quickly as Sally interrupted, "It's a playboy magazine."

"Well give it here!" I said quickly.

Sally shook her head and just put on her headphones as she walked briskly ahead of us. She often tried to ignore our childishness. Even though she was only a year older than me, she likes to act like she was all grown up a lot of the time. We teased her more because of it, but honestly she kept our group from getting into too much trouble. We started to head back to the vacant lot where we figured we would just chill for a bit, until those prep school kids showed up to fight if they did at all.

"Yo Pete can I bum a smoke off ya?"

"Sure kid, but ya owe me, cause that's like your fourth or fifth one in the last hour. I'm all for smokin' cancer into your lungs, but geez kid, you gotta lay off a bit." He laughed as he said it, half joking.

"Yea whatever!" I replied. You smoke almost two packs a day."

"Yes, but I'm older than you." Pete said in his usual persuasive and charming tone. I knew better than to argue with him.

As we approached the vacant lot Pete and I ran ahead racing each other to the big tree in the corner. Sally was still off in her own little music world with her headphones on blaring loudly. Sally wasn't paying any attention except to cover her face to keep from blushing when Pete tried showing off. As he was running he tried jumping vertically onto the old picnic table near the tree. He landed successfully on top of the table skinning his knee a little, turned around and winked at both Sally and I, but immediately lost his balance and fell backwards onto the ground.

"Need a hand" I ran over to him, stretching out my hand to help him up.

"Thanks kid."

"You alright."

"Yea I'm all good." He laughed.

Sally was tried not to laugh while sitting underneath the tree with her headphones around now her neck blaring her new CD.

"Pete what are we gonna do if those kids show up?" I asked.

"I'll tell you what I'm gonna do," Pete replied. "I'm gonna kick their butts."

"They didn't even really do anything, except cuss you out a little," I responded. Besides you started it.”

"Eh, you know me, I like pickin' fights for no reason; otherwise, this town gets boring." Pete said.

To be honest, Pete was actually right about that. This town is really boring if you don't make your own fun somehow.

I wouldn't personally choose to start fights all the time with strangers, but we weren't about to judge Pete. It's just who he was.

He always fought fair, and never used weapons. Pete just honestly loved to pick fights and prove how tough he was.

Last summer he had picked a fight with a Senior, Bruce Williams.

Bruce was the biggest, scariest dude in school. He was captain of the football team and everyone knew not to mess with him. Anyway, they had agreed on no blades or weapons of any kind. Pete still got beat up real bad of course, but he didn't back down, even when Bruce pulled a wooden baseball bat on him.

We all tried to jump in and help Pete out, giving him a fair fight, but Pete wouldn't allow it. He had too much pride and too much integrity. He'd rather get beat up and lose than cheat to win.

Pretty soon those kids showed up on their bikes while we were chillin'. They seemed to be just goofing off for a while before approaching us.

'Hey what the hell y'all doin here so early?" Pete shouted as he sprinted up to them leaving us behind. Sally and I turned to each other with a quick glance and then followed quickly behind Pete.

"Y'all kids get outta here unless you're ready to fight now," Pete said.

Sally had already dropped her headphones on the ground gettin' ready to fight. I put both my fists in the air and shouted, "He's right we're gonna beat the hell outta ya!”

I saw what looked to be the oldest and leader of the group reach his fist deep into his front pocket. Assuming him to be reaching for a blade I put my left hand on my knife in my back pocket while still keeping my right fist in front of my face ready to either take a hit or quickly throw a punch.

Before he could pull anything out, Pete reached out his left arm, grabbed the punk by his shirt, and yanked him off of his bike.

Winding up his right arm and clenching a fist preparing to throw the first punch at the kid, when all of a sudden, we heard that dreaded sound. A police siren. The noise sounded like it was close. We all turned around quickly and the cop was sitting in his car on the other side of the lot.

“Damn it!” Pete Exclaimed. “I can’t get caught got by the cops right now, not again.”

Pete had had a record before and he always prided himself on doing jail time. He liked being a thug. So I wasn't sure why he was so freaked out this time.

“Why?” Sally asked him.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll explain it later, but I gotta go.”

Pete immediately dropped the chump he was holding and took off in the other direction. He hopped the fence into Erik's yard and kept running. The rest of us scattered, even the little brats we were about to fight knew that this time we were all on the same side against the cop and we would drop whatever beef we had with each other and make sure everyone got away.

The cop, after getting out of his squad car, for some reason didn't chase any of us and instead made a b-line towards the direction that Pete had run. I thought it was odd, but afterall the old store clerk was probably the one who called the cops and gave Pete’s description.

We pulled into the cemetery and I got out of the truck. Jason walked quickly over to Pete’s mom who was still crying and was having a hard time getting out of the car. Everyone knew it was cause she was never sober, certainly not at a time like this, but regardless, we take care of our own, that included our old friend’s mom and dad.

I hadn’t seen Pete after that night with the police in the vacant lot until the incident with Jackson Pierce and the backpack. I still wasnt sure where Pete had gotten the gun, but based on how he reacted to the cop showing up the other night I assumed that he had stolen it recently. Erik and I still hadn’t told Sally about the backpack or the gun, but maybe we thought should, so I went over to Erik’s place that night to talk about it.

The door was locked which normally would be unusual but I didn’t think much of it so I went around to the back window.

The yard was filthy and over grown. I picked up a rock from the gravel driveway and tossed it up at the window then sprinted back over to the front door. That was our signal we would often use to not wake up parents by knocking or ringing the doorbell. I figured this way Erik would for know it was me at the door.

I stood at the door with my hands shoved deep into my denim pockets. After about a minute Erik opened the door. “Come on in,” he said. Mom’s asleep and dad’s passed out drunk in front of the T.V.

We walked quietly to the kitchen. There I told Erik about the run in with the cops and that I thought we outta tell Sally about the backpack.”

“Alright then, it’s settled. Tomorrow morning let’s meet at Sally’s place with the backpack.” Erik said.

My mind still racing with thoughts from the days before, I watched as four strong men began lowering Pete’s casket into the ground. It was then that it me that I really was saying goodbye to my oldest friend for the last time. I turned my head trying to hide my tears as Jason put his hand on my shoulder to comfort me.

It was a hell of a fight. After Pete took off to meet Jackson Pierce at the old Seven Eleven I quickly ran home to tell Jason.

Normally, none of us would care about Pete getting into yet another fight, but with a gun involved this was different.

I got to our apartment building and Jason's truck wasn't there so I assumed he was working late.

I ran back to Sally’s place to find her sitting on her front porch with a ciggerete in her hand.

"What's up?" She asked.

"Pete, he uh, Jackson Pierce…uh gun FIGHT!" I panted trying to catch my breath.

"What about a fight?" Sally asked with a puzzled look on her face.

I stood up after catching my breath and nearly puking my guts out from running.

"Pete is on his way to the Seven Eleven to fight Jackson Pierce who has the gun!" I shouted.

"What the hell!" Sally said frantically. "How did he get the gun?"

"He jumped me." I explained. "Pete assured me he'll be fine, but I'm not so sure. Jackson Pierce was pissed about slashed tires or soemthing.”

"We gotta get over there." Sally said quickly as she jumped out of her chair and ran to get her bike.

I hopped on the back and we rode as fast as we could down to the Seven Eleven.

As we approached the building and could see from a couple blocks away lights from a cop car but what we didn't see until we got there neither one of us will ever forget.

There we were stopped on Sally's bike staring across the parking lot at a pool of blood and in the center was our dear friend Pete, dead. He had been shot.

“No!” Sally screamed as she threw down her bike not even realizing I was still on the back. She pushed past the baracades towards Pete’s body when a cop grabbed her arm.

“Get back little girl this is a crime scene.”

Sally crumpled to the ground and began sobbing.

“Where’s Jackson Pierce?” I asked the cop. “He had a gun. They were gonna fight. Where is he!” I finally shouted.

“Son, listen your friend here was the one with a gun. 38 caliber pistol that he pulled on the cashier. I saw him running out of the store as I pulled in. He froze, then pointed his firearm at my vehicle. After the first shot at my windshield I had no choice but to put him down out of self-defense.”

“No!” I screamed at the cop and then ran over to Sally in tears.

The cashier from the store was yelling at the cops, saying there was two of them and the other one had got away still armed. I saw two cops get into a squad car saying on the radio to be on the look out for a teenager in the nighborhood armed with a gun. Then the car took off.

I didn’t really think about what went down in the moment, but the two were probably planning to rob the gas station to settle something about money and Jackson Pierce being the coward that he is fled the scene letting Pete take the fall. I’m really glad he hadn’t shown his face that day at the funeral.

It’s been about a week since we laid Pete’s body in the ground, but honestly it felt like months now. I hung out with Erik yesterday, but we just sat in silence drinking a couple beers in the vacant lot. We went over to Sally’s house, but her mom says she refuses to leave her room. We are all still in shock over what happened.

“I don’t know what will become of our little gang in this run down neighborhood, but I do know for sure that things will never be the same. Not with our ol’ buddy Pete being gone.

I still can’t believe he went and got himself killed, of all the stupid things he’s done. I can’t be mad at him though. That was Pete for ya, wild and reckless and bound one way or the other to get killed or caught up in something bad.

I wish I had someone to talk to about everything that’s happened up ‘till now. Not like a therapist or any feelings shit like that, but just a friend who could listen. Everyone just remains silent. I honestly can’t blame them. It’s a lot to process.

At that, I set down my pen and closed my journal. I needed to take to a walk and maybe buy a pack of smokes.

[piastrinorris]

copying ur 2 titles: all your pictures on the floor / this dizzy dreamer

all your pictures on the floor: oh god. i never thought i'd choose to write cheerscoops angst. but that's what that's become

this dizzy dreamer: hmmm. i've been thinking about this one for a while now. and we're getting a chrissy cunningham double feature here bc i wanna talk photocheer!!

send me a fake fic title and i'll tell you what i'd write based on it!

all your pictures on the floor: chrissy's mum and jason's mum had like practically arranged for them to be childhood sweethearts turned eventual spouses and during chrissy's Teenage Rebel phase (at 18) she's like "and why can't i choose who i want to date, huh?! what's to stop me from dating whoever i want anyway behind all of your backs?! isn't that worse?" so laura is like "if you won't agree to a relationship with jason, you're not living under my roof"

so she ends up dating and running away to live with steve. charming, goofy, totally reformed former playboy steve. everything's a dream, at first. she even opts to not go to college so she can just start her domestic life with steve as soon as it starts. but they're both still way too young to be starting a lifestyle like that, and neither of them have had good role models. so even though they do have really good times together, the in between bits are full of little insecurities. any time one of them is home late from work, the other assumes that Something must be happening behind their backs, but they're both so inexperienced in adult relationships that neither of them talk about it. chrissy's fed up of working and being a homemaker but steve never had to lift a finger so he doesn't know how to cook or clean and chrissy doesn't want to have to teach him.

stuff like that builds up until eventually steve cracks and is like "look, you chose to live here, so if you're not happy, you can get out." and maybe this is just before chrissy goes off to work for the day, and when she gets back all her stuff is in boxes outside the harrington house. her family won't accept her back. jason's got a fiancée who he's obsessed with. so she gets a motel room for the night, looks in one of the boxes and sees that steve's given her all of their photo albums, too. so chrissy puts all the photos out across the room, of all the good times that they had, reminiscing of them, wondering where it went wrong, wondering if the "good" times even were that good. and she realises she's faced with the option of either trying to fend for herself with no support network, or going back to steve with her tail between her legs and repeating the cycle of being just like her mother, who she starts to realise was only setting her up w jason bc jason was the safe option she never went for as a kid. and she was hoping not to let history repeat itself. but it did

this dizzy dreamer: au in which chrissy is a popstar, and jonathan works for a music magazine. he takes photos for a piece on chrissy, and they are. stunning. they capture her vibe perfectly, even she loves how she looks in them, and that feature really helps her career kick off. she's about to do her first major all-american tour and she seeks jonathan out to be the photographer for the whole thing. (idk if this is a thing for everyone, but i've been seeing a lot of harry styles' tour on my fyp and he apparently has a photographer called lloyd so that's what i'm basing this off of)

anyway as they're touring, chrissy realises how introverted jonathan is and desperately tries to get him to open up around everyone so that he feels part of the ~tour family~. and ofc he does Not want to do that. but some nights when chrissy can't sleep, jonathan is up, too. except he's sitting on the roof of the tour bus, getting high. he offers to roll chrissy a joint, but she tells him that if she smokes a whole one all by herself it makes her dizzy and throws her off. but she'll stay up with him and talk to him.

he tells her he's up bc he worries about his brother back home. she tells him she has a little brother too. he tells her he knows, they've grown up together and she's never even realised it. that's why he's completely okay with this just being a professional relationship. but chrissy feels bad that she doesn't remember jonathan. but she still finds ways to connect with him through anecdotes like "remember when mike lewenski started that huge food fight in middle school?"

as the tour goes on, she starts getting stressed. people keep writing about her, and being a female in the public eye, a lot of tabloids are judging her, setting expectations for her she doesn't know how to keep. and so to help her calm down between shows, jonathan offers to share a joint with her. she opens up to jonathan on a deeper level about how she's worried that she can't hack it, and that she's gonna have to give up on her dreams. jonathan tells her that it's admirable that she even has one, let alone one that she went for. it makes chrissy sad to hear that jonathan's never had a dream, but he tells her he doesn't mind, he only never thought to have any bc he spent so long taking care of his mum and brother.

chrissy swears that she'll help him come up with a dream to aim for. but, as tour goes on, his work gains notoriety, and he starts genuinely enjoying taking photos of the girl he's falling in love with, he realises he's already living it :)

[insanescriptist]

See look, the thing was, Jason as a kid was absolutely 100% a liar. Not that anyone really ever called him out on it, but you didn't live four years on the street without seeing shit. Choosing masks and marks and praying you'll live through your mistakes. Seeing people who didn't. Who weren't good enough, lucky enough or useful enough. Like with everything else good with Jason (according to everyone else), that happy boy facade died in a warehouse but it had been cracking for months before that.

Sure, it wasn't entirely a facade -that's what made it such a fantastic lie- but Jason's big mistake was thinking that their relationship, that it had become true on both ends, instead of a lie he had crafted on his. He didn't even think B lied on his. Fake it till you make it. B said look to the evidence and the evidence said, before his death, that Jason was his son. B had adopted him, trained him, treated him as his child. In and out of the leotard and pixie boots.

After his death, under the headstone Todd. Not in the Wayne family cemetery. Not his son. No, in the cave, where the heart of Batman was, Jason had been a good soldier.

Batman collected trophies from his cases. Once he had come back as Red Hood -a very petty fuck you to Bruce and psychological warfare on Joker- the memorial case existing had been a brilliant red flag.

How did that quote go?

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their bones;

Jason knew that B believed that about him.

It was no wonder their relationship never mended beyond their stark ideological differences. It was well and good to believe that all deserved redemption and the chance atone. It worked sometimes. But B was at his heart, a classist fuckhead, who didn't understand the really, all he was doing was prolonging the suffering of the victims who deserved justice and not the Joker's insanity plea. Again and again. And again. And again.

Kind of like this whole society was a classist shitstain through genetic lottery.

You had your winners. The Heroes.

You had your average joes and janes.

You had your losers. The Villains.

And then you had the fuckwads creating this status quo, allowing society to fuck everyone over. Bread and circuses, except less Flying Graysons and more children gladiatorial battles as preparation for a life and a paycheck to hunt down those that "deserved it," for breaking the law, when society had broke them first.

Honestly, if it wasn't for the Mystical Shit™ then Jason would have thought he was reincarnated into a personal hell dimension full of everything he hated.

They didn't even have proper heroes here! These incompetent shits stayed dead! But what else could you expect from Heroes under a government body? Even the villains under the government bodies he was used to had access to health care from death ala Lazarus.

Where the fuck were the Wallers here?

Jason really fucking hated it here. Six months into a stable identity and a stable place to live and he still hated this world.

Even this shitty apartment was still several steps up from the level of grime he expected. Not enough urban blight. No serious grit. No personal stakes in the hero vs villain rivalries. No real drama. No stakes beyond the petty everyday shit.

Oh, a purse snatcher. A hero is there. Oh, someone robbed a liquor store. A hero is there. Oh no, somehow an entire building is on fire. No worries, a hero will rescue you and fuck themselves up because despite the training the allegedly had, they don't have the equipment on hand to protect themselves from the smoke. What a heroic sacrifice when the fire department could do it just the same but without ending their own career over it. Basic shit.

There were still the fucked up "villains" who just wanted to hurt people. That sort of thing was just endemic to human biology, which these people were. Allegedly. 4 outta 5 people being born metahuman -sorry, with Quirks- and having powers before they had finished potty training and then having their entire lives defined further by genetic lottery, on top of the normal shit politics of wealth and otherness defining their life path.

Jason wanted to burn the whole Hero Industry down. But that's wasn't a new feeling for him now. A whole year into this fucked up world -no Gotham, no Star, no Watchtower- and he still hated everything about it.

Now the question was, how to avoid martyrs.

Martyrs were the bane of any killer, mercenary or assassin. They wanted to die for a cause. It would get the cause more publicity and thus more power. So the obvious solution was to either not get caught killing them or to dismantle the cause.

Both however was better.

Accident someone who was holding some uh, compromising evidence. Whoops, now there's an investigation. Point it out to the news.

Do a little murder. Frame it the right way. Let the police take care of it. It's an average joe. Just works for a hero.

Oh, no. It looks like there's corruption in the hero business. Except the government body over Heroes says, "no, that's just an outlier."

So again and again. Throw a little dirt there. Some accelerate here on the internet. That shiny image isn't as shiny anymore. Take a break. Let things roll, reassess and then plan and progress some more. Change up the MO enough and space things out enough it looks like coincidence. Maybe to the suspicious mind, multiple actors. Multiple cells. Espionage, not his forte, but Jason could dabble in it well.

In the mean time, tonight is a night in. Gotta moisturize and dye his hair again. Forgetting the eyebrows again would be awful; the brow gel was so expensive and so much upkeep compared to just dying it. Mascara at least was quick and cheap.

---

Jason was technically 3 hours into a movie marathon, watching the most recent movie adaptions of classical literature, judging them for their lack of technical skill. Because why have that when there's quirks that can do the same thing?

Basically in this reality anything that could have been done with a quirk was done with a quirk. So special effects? Oh, quirk. Easier to hire someone to breathe fire or something than to get a professional at pyrotechnics or CGI it in. Illegal yes, but no one really cared about the "no quirks in public law without a government permit," unless they were using it to commit crimes or seemed threatening.

Thankfully Jason was always capable of multi-tasking. He had his laptop out, working on a paper. Presumed dead this body was, but Jason had papers that said he was a living person.

Complete with a fucking quirk registration. Because that was also so important to this fuck up society. Positively Orwellian.

Ice quirk, his papers said, because while this body had the instinctual response of lashing out with fire, Jason had been working with the ice. Safer and easier to do that inside than playing with fire and his skin would thank him for it. He may not like this body, but he was at least going to take care of it.

His skin looked more like normal skin now, thanks to some regular moisturizing with the Skin Restorative Serum Knock-off, better known as Skin Goop™ but it wouldn't ever really get back to what it should be. Thankfully he had an explanation for that. His papers said his sad tragic backstory was his family was dead in a fire from a villain and hero fight, he survived with burns and amnesia and now was finishing his schooling online because of having missed so much school and other psychological bullshit that Jason could pull out of his ass like magicians pulled bunnies out of hats.

As much as the stagnation of technology was an anomaly in this dimension -apparently this is what happened when all your "villains" were meta-humans instead of "normal" people with PhD's- it did make faking out his backstory a whole lot easier. Japan had family registries and so it wasn't just a fake identity for himself, but for a whole damn family lineage. That also had to be tied to a real enough one for quirk falsifying purposes and that meant so much fuckery. False taxes, false schooling, falsifying bank records so he could live off of the "life insurance." Which yes, thank you fraud. Steady paycheck, no work. Not enough for vigilante expenses but enough for civilian expenses.

Jason took his time making Himura Touya existent.

Loner in school due to poor health. Yeah, the clinic he used to go to closed down while he was in the hospital. Records lost. Whoops. Yeah, the private school he used to go to developed a leak, so the paper records turned to mush. Electronic records were much more easily faked, but it still took time.

Like it was obviously sketchy as fuck if anyone dug deep and did the legwork and did actual asking but it was a credible enough fake to the rest of society.

So he had a shitty apartment but still better than he was used to for a shitty apartment. He was getting valid credentials for an Official Civilian Life with Normal Things™ like potentially college. That he didn't really need but was absolutely something to do to fill out his time with beyond taking down the Hero Industry.

Plus the insurance fraud money wouldn't last forever and having an official income made it harder for people to think "why doesn't he have a job if he has all these nice things?"

Yeah, even in this world, with the very much real labor shortages, minimum wage sucked. So much of the world was focused on the hero industry and what supported it, that it was absolutely sickening.

But that's what some middle of the week stress relief was all about. Stopping traffickers, rescuing people and arson.

Because why would someone with an ice quirk be a suspect for someone using a fire quirk to make a big ol' fuck you to the world?

Besides, some stress relief was being covered up (and not by him) and well, that's another scandal.

Cremation is just another fun(erl) service

So blaming random 4am thoughts that have been plaguing me all day for this

----

Jason woke to a bright room, thin sheets and the smell of a hospital embedded in his body.

First as always, assess. Hospital. No affiliation printed on the walls or anywhere. Private room, but small. That door looked like it led to a private bathroom. Generic flower picture, a mounted screen turned off. Really fucking bright sunlight from the windows.

There was no fucking way he was in Gotham then. Everything was too nice. Normal by standards outside of Gotham. There were blinds, not metal shutters. The walls were cleaner than Gotham allowed outside of Downtown and he could see greenery through the window.

Okay. So what had he been doing? Jason remembered and then wished he had his Jerichos to shoot himself with. Mystic Shit™. Okay. Okay. That was not one of his better ideas, but if he's recovering in a hospital, it worked. World saved.

So recovery. How fucked was he?

His skin looked so fucked. Which meant he had been worse. He's had time to recover and lose muscle tone in, going by how twiggy his arms were. His hands looked good. Clearly someone knew he cared about those if they went through the effort of restoring those.

Hmm, that was odd. No matter how much Jason hated the Lazarus Pits and all its by-products, it would have been a faster and more simple way to recover from near-death than the long incarceration in a hospital for a John Doe.

Jason wasn't sure if he'd been abandoned yet again by those who called themselves his family because he could, "take care of himself," or if he had been written off dead. Again.

Hospital beat the coffin by a long shot.

And it was with that cheery thought, a nurse -obvious meta human nurse- came in and burst into excited Japanese, because that was of course, his luck.

It's after the nurse and doctors leave that Jason loses his shit.

It looks like he's sulking in bed, but mentally everything in his head is exploding. Imploding.

Three. Fucking. Years. Coma.

Burn victim so bad they not only expected him to die in the first couple of days, but still expect it because of the infection risk his fucked up skin represents.

Still the conversation with the medical staff -of varying degrees of bizarre- was enlightening.

No, he has no idea who he is. Did he ever get anyone visit? How did he get here?

Of course some amnesia is to be expected. No, some of the nurses visited. No one knows how he got here.

Does he know what his quirk is? Uh?

Trauma blocked amnesia, the doctor mutters.

What's the last date he remembered?

Saturday. Maybe? The last year? No, I'm pretty sure my memory is shit and I'm trying hard not to freak out over not knowing anything. So could I get the year number?

And then there's the fucking year number. Once he got it translated into more normal terms.

Mystic Shit™ said fuck you to the future.

Except Jason knows this is not his future. Again, if it was, this would have been treated as a fucking inconvenience. Effective skin restoration goop -the proper name escaped him- was easily available to those with the right connections. A normal baseline human with 2nd and 3rd degree burns would be fine in less than two weeks with it, with nary a trace to show for it.

Thanks to the three year coma, his muscles were all atrophied as fuck, despite their best attempts at physical therapy. Because of all the burns and later burn scars and infections making it basically impossible to actually do fuck all about maintaining muscle tone until he was basically burnt skin and bones anyway.

He was so fucking weak now. It wouldn't last forever. He'd escape this hospital before he was discharged, before whatever "benefactor" showed up for whatever "purpose," he was suppose to serve now, as they had the medical debt over his head or was threatening his loved ones or whatever. If one didn't show up in the next week, he was losing his genre-savviness, because shitheads always wanted to claim shit, if it looked useful.

And Jason was used to looking useful, until he was no longer useful and they just didn't care. The amnesia made him less shiny, but Jason couldn't pull off the brain dead zombie imitation without actually being a brain dead zombie crawling up out of his grave.

So under the thin hospital sheets, Jason twitched his muscles.

Two weeks of emotional freak outs, watching the news, physical therapy and drugs Jason had had enough.

And he broke out.

----

Yeah, he regretted it almost immediately. Hard not to in the stupid paper gown, barefoot and bare ass.

Thankfully people were people, even with the plethora of meta humans he had seen, so it actually wasn't hard to find clothes. Someone left a hoodie in their car and Jason broke into said car. Put on the hoodie. Hotwired the car and drove off.

Somehow for being in the fucking future by two centuries and change, cars really hadn't changed. More evidence of Mystic Shit™ slamming him sideways.

He drove to the next town over, picked another direction, drove some more. Parked the car near what looked like a chop shop, negotiated the car for some money. He probably got ripped off, but better than nothing.

He walked to a corner store, bought some flip-flops after bullshitting an excuse that his had broken. First aid stuff. You know, for his feet. Hair dye in three different colors, because Rose Wilson could pick out a bad dye job at a hundred meters and so Jason learned how to dye his own hair properly so as to avoid her mockery, only to get mockery (affectionate) anyway.

It was a mix of instinct and lifelong observation that let him find an empty apartment quickly. He stole some sweatpants and passed out on the bed.

----

The thing is, Jason doesn't regret his crimes like Bruce thinks he ought to do, with a massive pity party and flaming self-hatred and punching criminals instead of shooting them. He hates the necessity of doing crimes, even if that crime is a net gain to society, but that's why all his serious crimes are premeditated. He's homicidal, not a psychopath.

Not Pit-mad either, no matter what the rest of them might have thought.

Again, he's homicidal, not a psychopath. And when he doesn't have to be some sort of costume soldier to be discarded by family for the disgrace of disfiguring the memory of a dead boy? He's actually chill and boring.

That is to say, he crashed at that apartment for three days, felt progressively more like himself, especially after the dye job -white hair all over, now a solid and boring black- but it still didn't change all the other issues the Mystic Shit™ inflicted on him.

This body isn't actually his. Too young, scars not right where the burns didn't fuck him over. Thankfully his existing coping mechanisms for dysphoria work and it's shoved to the side.

It's also a shit body. Not even a month out of a three year coma with inadequate -by his standards- of medical care. It's weak and building muscle to do everyday civilian shit, is going to take months to do. Pushing as hard as he did during the escape wrecked him the next three days. Jason may not know what's going to happen, but with his luck, it's going to suck and training is preparing to make it suck less. The only certainty he's got is that his skin or lack thereof is going to kill him from infection if he doesn't fix it.

He's got no legal identity here. Which basically puts him back onto familiar ground of legally dead.

Beyond the lack of paperwork, he's got a lack of funds. He also has no easy target to steal funds and equipment from, even just for fun.

For more disadvantages, he's in a different country, with different laws and a whole different culture. He would be climbing on board a fucking plane to Gotham, if it existed in this world, for some familiar ground.

He really is the unluckiest Robin. It also means he is also the most prepared Robin.

---

The first six months after waking up in this mockery world of heroics were the absolute worst.

He started at one foot in the grave and crawled out of it before the casket could really eat him alive. Jason had experience in casket busting. He didn't wanna repeat it.

He still didn't know who he was -in who was he inhabiting- but it wasn't like Jason had a lot to go on. 'His' quirk was thermo-manipulation, most obviously in the blue fire he could call to his hands but he could do some ice too; it was thanks to Duke's light and shadow manipulation that he had even tried for the duality. He had white hair. Presumably Japanese heritage but quirks had really erased or blurred a lot of racial lines. Also presumed dead and young.

Access to the Quirk Registry took some doing, but again, not everyone followed basic computer security, much less what it took to keep someone bat-trained out of their systems. Again, for nearly two centuries in the future, a lot of the technological development had stagnated. Searching through the Quirk Registry hadn't yielded any result but none of his other methods had struck anything either. And he had looked at the recently dead and/or presumed dead. Sure, he had some leads that looked viable, but he wasn't going to follow those up yet.

He had fixed a few of his most pressing issues the past six months. His ignorance of the local area, the local and national politics and so on. This world supported and had an entire industry catering to making child soldiers and sell their image and reputation to make money and more child soldiers that called themselves Heroes.

His weak ass body no long cried doing daily tasks and only hated him after working out. Yes, Jason was pushing it but he was well aware of how months of preparation could mean shit in the face of seconds.

His infection risk was severely reduced after quick research bender let him make the most generic knock-off brand of the skin restoration goop in a shitty homemade lab. Did it fix his skin being patchwork fucked in places? Some. He wasn't going to get feeling back properly, but at least he looked more normal. Maybe with enough moisturizing he might look a little less Frankenstien's monster.

He also had a cash inflow. It wasn't great, but it supported his apartment. And the second set of papers. And the 2nd apartment.

Which meant in grand old tradition for Jason, time for him to bounce to the next apartment and come up with a new name.

[veronica-17-hood]

headcannon that jason always has a spare room ready for any of his siblings in your shared apartment.

so when you had asked him he wanted to stop going to safe house to safe house or climbing in and out of your small studio apartment. he immediately said yes and started sending you listings to apartment after apartment every second of the day and even facetiming you every now and then during patrol when he sees a building going up or a for sale sign.

the two of you finally went house hunting and he was honestly like a kid in a candy store, asking questions about amenities work, if animals are allowed, parking, he was a full blown homeowner at this point.

once the two of you settled on an apartment, it ended up bigger than the two of you even wanted but it stayed within budget. 3 full bedrooms and baths, walk in closest, and a beautiful kitchen which sent the two of you wild, it was perfect mix of modern and homey, something jason never had before he found you.

a home.

and jason couldn’t be happier.

he was going furniture shopping, calling you often and asking how exactly you wanted everything to be set up (he never really had a good eye for decorating, have you seen his safe houses?)

he wanted large couches because even though he claims his siblings annoy him and he would be better off without them, he doesn’t mean it, and he wants room for his family to be at HIS home with HIS soulmate.

but jason did make it a priority, it didn’t matter what you wanted or said, he wanted one of the extra rooms to be for his siblings. no one used it for anything else but them.

he picked the whole room out himself and he had never been prouder (except of his reading nook that he had in the corner of your master bedroom, he showed everyone the work he did). he picked out the bed, brought timmy to get a mattress and they agreed on one, painted the walls, and stocked the bathroom with the usuals, shampoo, face wash, first aid kit, extra anesthesia, ya know the normal things everyone has in their guest bathrooms.

he always kept the room neat and clean, changing the sheets and vacuuming the carpet every week, never openly offering it to his siblings but they all knew that it was open for them at all times. 

the first time timmy stayed over he was over the moon, of course he only expressed that to you not to his kid brother. he cooked tim’s favorite meal (was very bummed when he didn’t come out when dinner was called) but he kept it warm for him whenever he decided to come out.

he waited from 5 pm to around 9, worried sick as to why tim hadn’t come out of the guest room yet. he didn’t know if he got sick, hurt, or crashed finally from the caffeine jay watched him consume during patrol the night before.

finally mustering up the courage and knocking down the walls of ‘i’m a tough man’ act, jay finally grabbed the warm plate of spaghettini and gently peaked into the spare room seeing his younger brother working too hard on Wayne Enterprises bullshit (thankful he wasn’t the one who inherited the company as a teenager).

jay looked back at you with a smile, nodding that his kid brother (both of your favorite sibling of the many bruce wayne had adopted, well yours is obviously jason, tim’s a close second) was perfectly fine and he watched as you headed back to the two of yours bedroom, book in hand now waiting for your soulmate to eventually saunter back to spend time with you.

and of course jay annoyed timmy for hours after that, eventually getting him to eat, stop working, and thankfully sleep, and you could swear that jason slept with a smile on his face that night.

since then tim spend most of his time at your home, most of the time because he genuinely loves you and jay and your home, but other times because of fights with bruce or breakdowns he can’t have, or just for some quiet, something you and jay love endlessly, quiet.

after a while damian would come in between the visits of tim. he always said he just needed quiet or a place to think and draw without intrusions but what he really means is he loves hanging out with his big brothers partner, who actually paints with him and loves his animals (you take him to shelters and museums every time he’s free and at your home). but he also loves his brother (he will never admit that aloud) but he loves jays food and hanging out with him, if it be silence of speak just eating and watching tv, or having heated debates about books, help with homework (which dami will never admit he needs) or even going to get new ear piercings and books.

then cass started coming, she got the second spare bedroom that you had just decorated simply with decor and furniture from your old studio apartment. but that style changed as cass started to stay more and more and soon stef was coming with her after patrol and the third bedroom became theirs. purple and black with posters and flowers across the whole room on stef’s side, knifes and weapons laid on the dresser in cass’s side but lots of comics and school work on the desk too. (cass also has been loving the baby pink color and sage green so that’s been making appearances).

then of course lastly dick and duke started to come, more so for movie nights and adventures or anytime after patrol. dick really only sleeps on the couch because jay couldn’t fit a third bed in the room where tim and dami normally sleep. this three bedroom house is now housing at least 6 people and 5 different beds for the people to choose from. duke will normally take the couch as well unless tim or damian decides to actually sleep at their own house for once, then he grabs the spare bed.

but dick and duke tend to come less often, dick goes through phases (mainly because the two of you are best friends and when he visits gotham he ends up loosing track of him and just crashes at yours) and duke enjoys the manor, especially as everyone is now in your house more time than not.

of course jay and you need a break so he’ll close the doors for a few days, the longest was a month. he explains that you and him need some time and all of his siblings respect that no issue. they all go back to their mad house until jay sends a short sweet text saying ‘it’s a go’ to the group chat and they all come back to the silence that is apartment.

there are no fights or drama at jays place, it’s always calm and everyone gets along (leading bruce to almost selling the manor because the energy or feng shui is off so it makes everyone crazy; everyone yelled at him and damian threatened him and the thought was suddenly *poof* from bruce’s head.)

jason loves having everyone there and he loves that you and him are the ones to provide it. he feels like he’s apart of the family again after everything he’s been through and with all the work with the outlaws that he thinks has been spreading him from the bats (not on purpose, which is why it makes him sad) and when he tells you that, gosh your heart swelled so it barley fits in your chest.

and don’t worry, roy, donna, and bazaro spend time there as well. the outlaws have a monthly sleepover with you and jay, no other siblings.

but jay never thought he could be so happy, but he is and truthfully he can’t stop smiling.

[zaceouiswriting]

New Professor

Characters: Dick Grayson x male, Jason Todd x male, Tim Drake x male

Universe: Somewhere in DC

Warnings: None

The entire class mumbled. After talking about their new professor, they got fired for using drugs in public after their old one. Her actions were unacceptable to the university. But not one single student knew who it was. The university itself held it under lock. Why that was, nobody was really sure, which made all of this so much more enticing.

Maybe a famous person, with a degree? Or a special agent? Maybe even a spy? There weren’t many reasons to hold the information of a new professor under wraps. So, their minds wandered far from the truth.

In the end, they did not even notice someone coming into the room from down where the professor would stand. All of them way too far into their own little worlds and conversations. Which gave that person, enough time to build everything up, get ready, and even write his name on the chalkboard.

Just then, he turned around and clapped once loudly in his hands. Immediately, all eyes flew down, directly to you. A small smile is visible on your perfectly groomed face. „Good morning class, I know it is bright and early. Not all of you are already awake, but please turn it down a notch. My name is (Y/N) or Professor (Y/L/N). I will teach this class at least this year. Hopefully, no incidents will ruin our fun together, okay?“

You turned around and swung the chalkboard up, so everyone could write down your name, only for you to turn around again. „And for the guy, I just met in the toilet. An excellent place to get to know other people, might I add. Yes, I stared at your dick, not because it was that appealing, but because your pubes looked like someone tried to trim it and almost cut the entire thing off. Next time, please be careful.“

For a moment, the entire class was silent. Not knowing how to react to your brutal honesty and savagely. But soon after burst into laughter. It even made your own smile a bit wider.

You let them get everything out, before clapping once more, „Okay that’s enough. Let us begin!“

Maybe it was because you had experience with classrooms already, or cause of the work outside of campuses you have done. The people you met and learned from. But every single person loved the two-hour class you just, had spent together.

Making it boring doesn’t help anyone, so why do it? You guys laughed and even played one or two games, to get the information better in your student's heads. Of course, not all classes could be like this, but sometimes and when it's possible, it should be done that way.

Before you let your pupil go, you had to call out a couple of them. „Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and Tim Drake, please stay behind.“

Especially the guys were confused, one of them even mortified, but no other one really paid any mind to it. Not even after your story at the beginning of class. Most forgotten, just to get remembered later and wondering if the guy you had talked about, was within this small group.

„It is nothing serious guys, relax.“ You smiled at them, as they came to a halt directly at your little podium. Waiting for the last person to leave the room, you immediately turned back to the three guys. „As far as I know, you three are brothers, right?“

The three guys nodded in unison, still confused, except for one. Who looked even more mortified than before, you had called them to you.

„Okay, good Tim here, really needs your help with his self-care. Please show him how to shave, before he does irreparable damage to his own body. I almost feared for his life, when he goes onto me in the toilets and saw his damaged skin.“

Both Dick and Jason looked shocked at their brother, who tried to hide himself away with his hands. „If you guys need tips or… „Help“, just call me, here is my number.“

Before either of the three could say something else, you already were at packing again. Eyes not even met them once more.

Together, the brothers left, confused and with your number in their hands. As Jason looked at his, under your number was only one word written, „Hunk“, at first, he was confused, until he finally understood, that it wasn’t meant innocent.

With a bright grin, he showed it to his brothers. „Look what our hot teacher wants to call me,“ he told them cockily.

Dick, with a satisfied grin, showed him too. As Jason read it, he rolled his eyes, „Stallion? Really? He must be blind, or maybe he gave you the wrong piece of paper?“

Just then he turned the piece around, and showed his first name, „Don’t think so bro. He just knows what he likes.“ His voice arrogantly, knowing how much it would piss him off.

„You don’t even like guys!“, Jason retorted loudly. His anger began to flare up.

Dick just shrugged with his arms, „Don’t care. He is hot, giving him what he wants, could only be profitable for me.“

„What says it on your paper, Tim?“, Jason tried his hardest to get away from Dick and his obvious ego problem.

But Tim said nothing, trying to stuff the paper in his pocket. To his luck, Dick was faster and snatched it out of his hand. „Let’s see… Baby boy?“

While Dick stood there confused, Jason broke out laughing like a maniac. The tallest of the three did not understand it. Was it a joke?

Tim, who already was uncomfortable, tried to get the paperback, but he could see that Dick wanted an explanation. He groaned embarrassed. „He thinks I'm inexperienced and… and-“

„Submissive!“ Jason screamed out laughing. Almost rolling himself over the floor, clutching his sides from the amount he laughed.

Now it was on the tallest to be mortified. He quickly gave the paper back to his smaller brother, which he in return immediately stuffed in his pocket, finally. „Is it true? Are you a baby boy?“

Of course, Dick wanted to know that. He had no experience with any of that and if he hears or sees something, Jason or Tim needed to explain it to him asap. „Yes,“ he mumbled almost silently. Which finally let even Jason shut up.

„Oh fuck, sorry,“ he quickly excused himself. Thinking that you just wanted to make fun of Tim, without knowing that you could see right through the tough guy demeanor he has because of Jason and Dick.

As the three brothers, now in uncomfortable silence, walked back to their car, someone else found something very interesting about you. Another of your students, made it her mission, to expose why the school had made your appearance a secret. And what she found, explained everything and so much more. Already planning, how she could use it to her advantage.

[Masterlist]

[mzminola]

Got reminded of this, so, okay, how do we not just have Tim dying while Dick is Batman, but specifically in this era of Robin costume?

We scrunch up the timeline right at the end of the Robin 1993 run is how. Ulysses “the General” Armstrong has stolen Anarky’s suit and is planting bombs, there’s a manipulated gang war, Spoiler is hiring assassins to attack Robin & working with Armstrong in the name of following Bruce’s orders to toughen Tim up.

Except before Armstrong turns on Stephanie & she ditches that part of the plan, the alien invasion with Darkseid & the turbo depression equation happens. Tim has not yet been caught in an explosion, so he’s still fighting in the Tribute To Superboy Robin suit.

Bruce is kerblooey’d back in time, the crisis is ended, and in the aftermath, Spoiler quietly cancels any remaining assassin contracts on Robin and blocks Armstrong’s number. All the regular Gotham shit got put on hold during the alien invasion, including the gang war and bombs. Stephanie hopes to just sweep that whole mistake under the rug without anyone knowing. Sure, it was on orders from Bruce, but the orders were kinda vague and he’s dead now.

Battle for the Cowl happens, but since Tim is not in recovery from explosion-burns, he holds his own better and doesn’t get stabbed in the chest with a batarang. Jason just winds up kicking him off a precipice in that subterranean lair & scampering off to lose at mind games with Dick.

Damian, however, still got shot, which means there’s still the presumed canonical time lapse between when BftC ends and Red Robin 2009 begins. During this time Tim is increasingly attached to his theory that Bruce is alive. Tim can leave at any time to pursue ths theory since, you know, no puncture wound that needs healing.

Dick asks Tim to stay. Yes, Dick has already decided to make Damian Robin, the suit is in progress, and Tim is devastated, but Damian isn’t healed from that gunshot yet and Dick needs Tim. Can he at least, please, stay that long?

Tim agrees to stay.

Meanwhile, it turns out Armstrong was just taking some time to figure out what did & did not change thanks to the alien invasion, and starts up his bombing spree again. It was Tim’s case before, so he jumps right back into the investigation. If he’d left to find Bruce, like he wanted, Dick would be the one investigating.

Stephanie still has not told anyone of her previous involvement. Not anything she learned, not anything Armstrong learned, because she has no way of explaining her knowledge without admitting her mistake.

Consequently, Armstrong gets the jump on Tim.

Robin is captured and beaten to death by the General.

Dick might get there in time to disarm the bomb, or haul Tim out of the building before it blows, but he might not. Tim’s dead either way. Dick has a complete fucking breakdown.

Stephanie, horrified & guilty, rushes off to stop Armstrong, like when she tried to stop War Games after starting it. Spoiler catches the General and beats him nearly to death, only stopping herself because of Tim’s no kill rule. Armstrong goes to jail.

Dick blames both himself & Stephanie for what happened to Tim. He has some complicated feelings about her reining herself in, when he wasn’t able to rein himself in during the Joker’s Last Laugh debacle. There is a lot of yelling, crying, deliberately hurtful words, frag-grenade style blame sharing, and rehashing old wounds.

Stephanie does not become Batgirl, though whether she continues as Spoiler is dealer’s choice.

Thanks to the animated adaptations of Under the Red Hood using the greenless Robin uniform that Tim wears in the animated series and post-Kon’s-death in the Preboot era comics, my brain parsed the first image in this set not as Bruce and Jason, but as Dick and Tim.

Which is. Very ouch.

[mxtantrights]

the assistant - one

I'm here with another story with the batfam. however none of them are the love interest for the reader. You shall see,,, if you read... hope you enjoy! <3

part two here

It’s 9:03am when you get the email. It’s always 9:03am. Every time.

Mr. Wayne is doing his usual rounds of the office. To those who don’t know him personally, it’s time to be the star-employee. To those who know Bruce, it’s time to socialize about what Gotham’s playboy has been up to since he was last seen. Even though there was probably several magazine covers that could answer that question.

At 9:03am, Roy (security guard extraordinaire) sends you a very formal and very non anxious email to let you know that your big boss is in the building for his monthly rounds. He’s not even nervous, he does it to be funny. It looks something like this every single time:

to : yourname@waynein.co 

oH- your boss’ boss is herE! YOUR BIG BOSS IS HERE! Good mood, smiling, sMOOZING!! 

and you always reply with:  

to : royharper@waynein.co

thanks Roy, lunch later?

Your boss likes to make his rounds with almost everyone. And you work on the same floor as his son, so you see him last. Along with everyone else on your floor. 

At 9:19am Tim Drake comes out of his office and hightails it to yours. Usually he doesn’t wear the dreaded office suit. Usually it’s something bit more comfortable, less showy. But his adoptive father was coming and he always get nervous that something might go wrong.

When he opens your door, after knocking, you see the disheveled hair and the waft of mint gum. To hide his caffeine levels, you assume.

“Tim, nothing has gone wrong in the last twenty four hours. He’s your dad. He just wants to show face and leave.” you say.

He lets out a breath of relief. But like always he needs more. So he sits in the chair across from you and your desk. You take a second to peel your eyes off the computer screen for a moment. Your fingers stay moving, typing out the address to the sandwich shop for later today. 

“Tell me again. Please.” he says as you look at him.

You stop typing. 

“You know that nothing has gone wrong because your a bit of a control freak and you have managed everything down to the last minute detail. You’re doing great.” you say.

He nods, “Thanks again.”

by 9:21am Bruce Wayne is on your floor. And Tim leaves your office to greet him. Your phone rings, like usual. You pick it up knowing exactly who it is.

“How do you manage to call at the right time every time?” you ask.

“I don’t know it’s like I have someone in the building that tell me these things. Huh.” Jason says.

“Okay smart-ass.” you say.

“Anyways, how is work?” 

“Fine. Except your dad is a dilf and a distraction.”

“Please- how many times do I have to-”

“You ask me every time, and yet here we are. Funny how that works.”

There’s some moving in the background and you swear you can hear another voice with him. But you decide not to say anything over the phone. He might be at ‘work’ as you both like to call it.

“ANYWAYS, anything interesting happen today?” he asks.

“Didn’t I- you’re dad’s here. That’s the talk of the building, Jay.” you say.

There's more shuffling on the other end of the line, but he makes a noise that suggests that he did in fact hear you. But he’s obviously busy. You’re about to telling him to just call you back later when he answers.

“How’s Tim-bo doing?” 

“You know he’s spinning out a bit. But I think I calmed him down. Why are you asking for the run down, you know exactly how this goes down every time. It’s kinda weird.” you say.

He laughs, “I just think today might be a bit different.” 

You’re eyes squint at his words.

“Different how Todd?” 

“Oof, last name. I hit a nerve.” 

“Jason.”

“It’s nothing bad. When have I ever steered you wrong-”

“that time-”

“You know what I don’t know why I said that but suddenly I’ve got to go now and you’re breaking up and yeah buhbye-” Jason says.

He ends the call.

You put the phone down on your desk and sit there. What could he have planned? If there was one way to pick his mind it would be to talk to his partner in crime.

You pull up your email on your computer screen.

to : royharper@waynein.co

Jason was being weird on our call. what's about to happen? 

You click send and the whoosh sound fills the room. Instead of trying to get some work done you wait for him to answer. It would be quick anyways. Unless he was actually doing his own-

From: royharper@waynein.co

nothing he’s just trying to put you on edge. about lunch tho can we raincheck??

You’re about to write out a response when you hesitate. You don’t know why but you do. Your fingers hover above the keyboard and you look like an actual idiot. So then you curse yourself and type out a response.

to : royharper@waynein.co

yeah sure. you’re good!! is everything ok?

You truly hope everything is okay. and you also think about how you could text him and it would be quicker and you would actually have the message bubbles to look at instead of just a still screen as he answers.

from : royharper@waynein.co

yea yea. something came up. promise I'll make it up to you.

Now you really are worrying. Roy wasn’t one to overshare but he did share with you. Whether it came to building gossip, whatever the two of you were having for lunch or any very niche thought he had. 

This generalization felt weird. It’s not like you didn’t want him to have his privacy. He’s a grown man and he’s got the things going on in his life. But you guess- you don’t know what you guessed.

to : royharper@waynein.co

okay. if you need help with anything just txt me.

you sigh.

from : royharper@waynein.co

always. thankz.

With that, you exit out of your email and pull up your actual work. This weeks assignment enclosed looking over the small details for an upcoming board meeting. You’re used to it, two years at this company and you know the ins and outs.

It’s about thirty minutes of scanning for discrepancies when there is a knock on your door. You figure it’s Tim, always the polite one to knock before he enters. But the door doesn’t open.

“It’s open!” you shout.

And like some sick twist of fate, Bruce freakin Wayne opens your door. When you called him a diff to Jason you honestly meant it. And that’s why Jason prefers you don’t joke about his dad because he knows there is a part of you, very small but still apparent, that is not joking.

“Hi there.” he says

You shoot out of your chair, practically knocking over your whole desk when you do, “Hi Mr.Wayne.”

“Please, you’ve been here for two years. Call me Bruce.” he says.

You smile. There are so many jokes going through your mind right now. Jokes that would make Jason choke on his own spit. But you don’t say them out loud. It’s his dad. You’re not one of those Gotham piranhas that circle the Wayne family and ogle them.

“How can I help you, sir.” you say.

There was no way in hell you were calling him Bruce.

“I was just making my rounds, as usual, when I realized it’s been a while since we’ve chatted.” he says.

If by a while he means a whole three months then yes, it’s been a while. Three months ago at a Wayne gala that you were invited to by Tim and brought Roy to as your plus one, even though you were a plus one already. The same gala where you looked at Roy for a few moments too long and realized that you wound’t mind being more than friendly with him-

“Yes it has. How is everything?” you ask.

He nods his head, and moves to take a seat in front of you. But you notice that he waits for you to take your seat before he takes his own. Prim and Proper Mr.Wayne.  It makes you want to laugh but you can’t- he’s your boss!

“Everything is going well. How about you? Anything exciting?” he asks.

You chuckle at that a bit, “Sir, I think you get up to more exciting things than me.” 

“I think that’s untrue. My life is very boring, meanwhile you are a young woman. You must get into some trouble from time to time.” he says.

something in you is questioning him. But you’re not a hundred percent sure in your questioning to call out your boss. Yet. 

“Legal trouble or relationship trouble?” 

He laughs, “I hope it’s the later and not the former.”

“Oh well, not as much. Men in Gotham are... I’m sure there’s a word but I’m pretty sure I shouldn't say it to my boss.” you say.

“Oh-so, you aren’t seeing anyone right now?”

There it is.

Your boss was wondering if you were seeing someone. Why would he do that?Why would your boss be wondering who you swapped spit with? A thought flashes through your mind and you shoot it down instantly. It can’t be.

“No sir. It’s been a while.” you say.

He nods his head and you can see him smile a bit. Okay- maybe that thought you just pushed away wasn’t that far fetched.

“I think you’ll find the one. Gotham is many things you know.” he says.

Okay, the dilf jokes were fun to annoy Jason with but this is... is this actually happening to you or did you accidentally ingest some hallucinogens? He stands up, as if to leave and it makes you stand too.

He is halfway over to the door when you get the courage.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” you start and he turns back to you, “you can totally fire me if I’m crossing a line but, were you trying to ask me out or something?” 

His eyes go wide like saucers. And then you realize you’ve made a big mistake. He wasn’t. Your boss totally wasn’t trying to ask you out and you just put your foot in your mouth and now you were totally fired right?

“No!” he shouts. Then he seems to realize he shouted. 

He puts his hands up surrender, “Not that- you’re a wonderful girl but that’s not why I was asking about your love life.”

“But you were asking about my love life.” you say.

He winces, “I think I’m gonna leave before I give something away.” 

He waves and scurries off like a child with stolen candy. You are left standing there, confused and cheeks a bit warm.

WHY WAS BRUCE WAYNE ASKING ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE?

[butwhyduh]

Peeping through the stacks

Jason todd x reader

Valentine’s fic

Warning: smut

I recommend the book I mentioned if you like the classics.

“I have a proposition,” Jason said and your eyebrows rose. “Not that kind. We separate. I grab you a book and you get me one. And we meet up afterwards to go to dinner to see what we got. No cheating. No following each other around. Whoever gives the better gift, wins and gets to control the rest of the night.”

“Sounds like plan. Just know Todd,” you said moving up in his space standing on your tiptoe to talk in his ear. “I’m going to crush you.”

“Only if you win, baby. Only if you win,” he said with a smirk. He opened the door to the largest used bookstore in Gotham. 3 stories with a section of just records and another of old comics, it was heaven. They even had a coffee shop in the back of the second story. You went left and he went right.

You went straight for the classics. Jason would pour over old novels for hours and his favorite were clearly dog eared. You thought about replacing them but, while he’s appreciate it, it wasn’t exactly exciting. You milled around the area, looking at books that were nice but not it. As you moved to leave the area, a section caught your eyes.

If you love the classics but need a book written in the last 50 years:

This is what you needed. A careful list of books that you like next to new books was perfect. Jason had been reading his copy of Moby Dick and talking about the hubris of man recently, heavily alluding to Bruce. You grabbed the recommended book: In the Heart of the Sea.

Now to find Jason. You had agreed to no cheating but it wasn’t really cheating to just watch him if you had already picked. He was probably in your favorite area and you walked upstairs to watch down low.

Jason was holding two books in hand and looking between them both. You felt a thrill to watch him. He almost always caught you quickly but the store with multiple patrons and levels must have thrown him off a little. He finally grabbed a book and looked directly up at you with a smirk. You threw your fist playfully. He’s certainly caught you. You came downstairs with a grin.

“I knew you were watching me. That’s cheating,” he said. You held the book behind your back as you kissed his cheek.

“It’s not cheating if I didn’t change my book,” you protested and he kissed your forehead.

“Tell yourself that. Let’s check out and then I can win,” he said, wrapping an arm over your shoulder and walking to the counter. You both laid them down, face down because you’re competitive, and paid. You carried two separate bags and held hands as you walked down to a little cafe on the corner.

The place had the coolest vibes. Fresh coffee day and night, records and music memorabilia on the wall, and a band of musician played on a tiny stage every night. Valentine’s was no exception. You found a table in the back and promptly ordered your favorites from the menu.

“Okay. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” you said with a grin.

“I thought we’d wait until tonight to do that,” Jason said with a roguish wink. “Oh, you mean the books. Yeah, let’s swap.”

You gave him his bag and he yours. It almost looked like a drug deal if it wasn’t books. You pulled out the book. A continuation of a series you loved but had a hard time finding the next parts. Jason pulled out his and read the back.

“Okay, you won,” you said with a teasing scrunch of your face. “This is really great.”

“This looks great. But you did cheat too...” he said pretending to take his time deciding. “I guess I’ll take the win. But it was pretty close, I’m not going to lie.”

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Seriously, I can’t wait to bore you with more whaling facts.”

“I’m taking it back,” you said and he laughed. “I can’t learn anymore. I’m not kidding.” Jason’s eyes smiled too and you loved the sight. He looked happy. You food arrived and a folk band started playing.

As your food dwindled and it was fully dark outside, Jason’s gaze lingered on your body. His hand sat on your knee as you talked.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said randomly and you exhaled quickly with a shy smile as you looked away. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay,” you said, letting him pull you from the cafe and a few blocks down. Jason pulled you close and rubbed his nose against your cheek. You turned your head up to close the space between your lips. It started as soft, gentle, cute. But Jason gripped your hips and pulled you closer and you wrapped your arms around his neck and before you knew it, you were being pushed against a wall as he kissed down your throat. You made soft sounds as he nipped and kissed the sensitive skin.

“Jason,” you said breathlessly. He hummed against your skin. “Take me home. Take me home.”

You ran your hands along the muscles under his shirt as you rode behind him on the motorcycle. Jason insisted on helmets and you wished you could kiss at the back of his neck. Probably best. Your hands on his stomach were distracting enough.

Jason barely drove the bike into the parking garage of his building before pulling off his helmet and turning towards you. You did the same. Neither of you climbed off as you made out. His tongue slid in your mouth as his hands held the back of your skull in place. He reached behind him to turn it off as you kissed.

“Upstairs,” you breathed. He nodded before getting up and picking you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed his neck as you walked towards the elevator. The knee high slit in your skirt had scooted up to expose most of your thigh. Luck was on your side as no one was around to watch but security must have gotten a great show with the pair of you aggressively kissing. Jason pressed your back against the wall in the elevator as you rode up to his floor.

He carried you down the hall. You were less lucky as your elderly neighbor was sitting in the end of the hallway as she always did everyday. She’d watch the sunset and people watch everyone coming home from work or school. She giggled and looked away. Jason put you down the second you both realized and you flushed with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry sweetie, I was married once. Happy Valentine’s,” she said with a big smile looking out the window. Jason quickly pulled you in the apartment.

“I forgot about her,” he said. “Gross part is that she’s probably thinking about her dead husband and all the times he used to rail her.”

You glared at Jason. “That’s.... so gross. Why? Like you ruined it. Your dirty mouth.”

“I can get it a little dirtier,” he said with a wink but ruined by bursting into laughter. “Like do old people blow each other? Can their hips bend that much? I know their knees are bad. What age did they have to give them up?”

“Shut the fuck up. That’s so gross,” you said putting you hand over his mouth and he laughed before pulling you close.

“You look really pretty tonight. I forgot to tell you because I kept staring at you,” he said with a soft look. He bent and kissed you sweetly. Not rushed or hard like earlier. He slowly pulled you to the bedroom. You pulled each other’s clothing off as you walked. Shirt here. Pants there.

“Thank you. You look good too,” you said as you pulled the bedroom door closed. Jason rolled his eyes. He never agreed with you but had given up on arguing.

Jason pulled you on top of him in bed. His nose ran up your throat until his lips met yours. He was slow and deliberate in his movement. His hands roamed your body as you moved your legs to straddle him. You didn’t bother teasing either of you but instead sunk down on him.

“Princess,” he breathed with closed eyes. You sat for just a moment, get used to him, before starting to move. You bent at the waist to give him long deep sloppy kisses. “Baby,” he pleaded before you started moving.

“Remember, I won,” Jason said.

“Yeah,” you asked with a grin. “What do you want, Jaybird?”

“This. Keep riding me. You look so good,” he said breathlessly. His hands gripped your hips as you bounced. He grimaced as you swirled your hips. “Fuck!”

“Oh we like that,” you commented. He chuckled distractedly. Jason pulled you down to where he could kiss and nip at your chest. You whined as he took your nipple in his mouth. He let go with a loud smack.

“Mmm someone seems to like that,” he quipped. You pressed yourself back towards his face and he chuckled against your skin before giving your breasts the attention you wanted.

“I love your Valentine’s gift. You’re so thoughtful,” you said breathlessly. Jason looked up at you confused.

“Yeah no problem. Is now the time?” He asked with his eyes half closed and mouth open as he breathed heavily. His hips jumped to meet yours and he reached a hand down to rub circles on your clit. You moaned loudly and he smiled as he watched you come undone. He thrust your faster to finish with you. You both moved together jumpily as you buried your head in his neck. You breathed for a few second before softly kissing his lips.

“I seriously loved today,” you said.

“Yeah, I’m glad. Me too. Surprised that no one call-“ Jason started before his phone rang and he sighed. “At least we finished. I’ve got to take this,” he said and you rolled off and curled in the blanket. He answered the phone as he threw on boxer briefs. He looked at you wistfully as he talked. It sounded important.

“My source said Black Mask is getting a shipment early this morning so I’ve got to go. We can’t have those guns on the street,” Jason said after hanging up. He leaned over to give you a dizzying kiss. “I’ve got to go but here is your book and a glass of water. Don’t stay up. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“Be safe,” you said before he climbed out the window.

“Aren’t I always,” he said and you just knew he was grinning under the helmet before jumping from a 6 story window. No, you thought, no you aren’t.