#i mean he’s sorta there

[ciderjacks]

dad issues

+

(I think they were all fundamentally affected by what they saw and just collectively decided not to share the upsetting details)

[willosword]

Fake, facsimile, forgery.

[everwalldigan]

Once the idea of Damian becoming a doctor was planted in my head I CANNOT let go of it like it’s all I’ve been thinking about.

All I can see is Damian all grown up into his 6 foot something height standing there in a white coat awkwardly while being fussed over by the mother of one of his patients☹️. Paediatrics would be such an amazing branch for him too like (just like his father) he’s trying to make sure no child has to grow up the way he did and he’s so sweet and gentle with the kids, constantly looking for any signs of abuse or unhappiness.

He has a whole drawer of candy with vegan, sugar free, halal and all kinds of options. Kids, parents, coworkers, the media, the nurses, legitimately EVERYONE absolutely adores him and he deserves that and so much more. We’ve got enough vigilantes in Gotham and the world let ONE of them be happy just ONCE don’t you think he’s suffered enough? Plus he’s already preconditioned to withstand and excel under the gruelling working environment of medicine. After being a literal assassin and vigilante his entire life, working triple shifts at the hospital would be a walk in the park.

I really hope dc goes with that route cause there’s something so satisfying about a child that’s been trained his whole life to hurt and kill choosing to help people instead. I KNOW Leslie Thompkins is somewhere in her clinic with a big ass smile about to give Bruce so much shit about there finally being a university graduate in the family (she has to be double annoying about it to make up for Alfred being unable to cause I know he would be so happy that Damian is going into that direction. Karma for Bruce dropping out of med school).

[sp0o0kylights]

Eddie was all about desecrating corpses. 

Particularly, the huge ones--and nothing was larger than the burnt out husk of Starcourt. 

Yellow caution tape, muddied and ripped from its time in the weather still decorated parts of the doors. 

The place used to be crawling with security, but that had eased off now, the job returning to a local outfit rather than the smooth and swift guards who previously haunted the joint in pairs. 

It was easy as two days spent camped out in his van, watching the main entrance and a few side doors. In no time at all, Eddie had schedules memorized, points of entry selected and even three possible escape routes should things get dicey.

He didn't expect them to. 

Not when he’d already rolled his checks and came up with a number that, were this an actual D&D game, would make him a happy man. 

It was always a point of contention between him and his Pa. This perception. The natural ability he had that good ‘ol dad just didn’t seem to possess. 

The one that made him patient long enough to get a feel for a gig. 

To know instinctively how hard a job might be, and how to go about doing it safely. 

(Eddie personally doesn't believe much of it is talent. Thinks it is in fact, forcibly learned, due to the nature of his upbringing. 

Grandma and Grandpa Munson, bless their dead, departed souls, had at least given something of a shit. Tried to keep family things family and work things work, even when said work was illegal as it gets. 

They understood things like appearance and public reputation. 

How that kept the pigs off your back and food on your table.)

His Pa had never cared for any of that. 

Eddie didn’t grow up with family meals, or even food in the house let alone on the table. He grew up watchful, forced to learn or take a hit meant for an adult in the process. To weigh the risks against the benefits, and how to charm the pants off an unsuspecting target while doing so. 

It was how he’d escaped his own prison sentence when his Pa finally got eyes too big for his abilities.

Eddi had gotten lucky in that situation. 

Or rather--he’d gotten Wayne. 

Wayne, who gave up his own room, his own bed, for his nephew. Had bought him his sweetheart on his sixteenth birthday and a van on his eighteenth. Both things were used, and a little battered around the edges, and Eddie had almost thrown up the day he accidentally found out Wayne had used his life savings for the damn car, but they were above and beyond anything he had any right too. 

Eddie would be damned without him. 

But he knows his uncle needs help. 

Can't pay for himself and Eddie. Never really could, and so has been giving his nephew literally everything he has in an effort to make up for it until Eddie could help pay his way. 

Not that a singular soul would trust a teenage Munson with such a precious thing as a part time job, and so Eddie had turned to the familiar. 

The mall fire, and the resulting flood of federal agents had really put a damper on his income the past few months. Drugs were risky, and getting riskier with them sniffing about, and things were getting tight again in a way they hadn’t in a long, long time. 

(All it had taken was finding the hidden stack of bills. 

Big ol’ words stamped in red topped every one. Bold letters screaming ‘Overdue’ and ‘Payment Missed’ and ‘Late Fees.’ 

One single letter had panicked Eddie more than any other, the one that clearly said Wayne had been talking to the payday loan place down the street, and he’d be damned if his shortcomings made his Uncle willingly walk into a debt pit so few climbed out of.) 

Growing up like he had, Eddie was trusted in certain circles. Had access to places many didn't as his sole inheritance, because he was known.

 Someone who didn't rat, who could be trusted with given tasks. Who kept to the criminal code, and was good about not backstabbing you if caught.

He’d hit up a few old connections, dropped some hints. Put out “feelers” as one might say. 

Got a nibble and soon enough, Eddie was back in business, getting called up and offered a few small tasks for decent dough. 

Sometimes it was fetching information. 

Sometimes it was ferrying an item.

Today, it was a retrieval.

There was something someone wanted in the ruins of Starcourt--and they were offering an insane amount of money to get it.  

The plans hadn't made sense, not at first. The instructions Eddie had been given sounded outlandish, if not outright total bunk. 

Like the existence of a multi level basement under Starcourt? How the hell had no one caught that being built? 

Or that the security systems down there could possibly still be turned on? After four months? 

Who was even paying for it? 

Eddie had heard stupider things though, and the pay for this little jaunt was good. Too good to pass up. 

"They want a local in case something happens and the rescue squad comes running in. That way, it's just a little trespassing fun. The town deviant getting his kicks in the big scary mall, and not what they think it is." His connection had told him, meeting with Eddie in a Mcdonalds the town over. 

The place had a play palace, big enough to host a number of screaming rugrats. It made for a great cover as they pretended to be just two men in overalls, getting burgers on their lunch. 

Not a soul could hear a sound over the kids screaming, and if a blueprint sat between them then, well, if it looks like a maintenance worker, and it talks like a maintenance worker…

People never did look twice.

"And what else exactly would they think this is?" Eddie asked, munching on the food he got for free as part of even entertaining the offer. 

"A retrieval, Double D." 

Eddie hated that nickname.

"Some rich kid bit it in the fire, and his parents are paying out top dollar to get a few of his things, seein’ as the feds wouldn’t let anybody back in after they condemned the place." The guy, whose name was Mickey said. 

He idly traced a finger along the lines of the blueprint, the path he was wanting Eddie to take. 

(The path Eddie would later ignore, on grounds that it was going to get him caught.) 

 “Specifically a signet ring and car keys.”

“Car keys?” Eddie had asked, mostly in a bid for more information. Mickey was the kind of guy you could breadcrumb into giving more information than he intended to, if one played their cards right.

And Eddie was a damn good poker player. 

“Yup. Goes to a BMW--which they want you to drive to a safe place. Parents think he lost it somewhere around,” Mickey’s finger stopped, before tapping the blueprint twice. “Here.”

Something had niggled in the back of Eddie’s head. The first whispers of recognition, of a fact that he knew something about this--something he couldn’t yet recall. 

He wasn’t stupid enough to ignore it. 

“Who's the kid?” He’d asked. 

Mostly because he was curious, partially because it was a way to ease in the real questions he wanted to ask.

Like what a rich kid was doing four levels down in Starcourt the night of the fire. 

“Does it matter?” Mickey said, but dug into his pockets anyway. Retrieved a little 2 by 3 wallet photo, done in the traditional High School Picture Day style. 

He’d tossed it on the table, and Eddie didn’t react. 

Kept his face perfectly blank, even as his stomach contracted and his breath caught in his chest. 

Carefully pulled the picture to him, to make a show of examining it. 

“Don’t know him.” He lied after a moment, fighting to get his breathing back under control before Mickey figured out what was up. 

“Told you it didn’t matter. What matters is that you get the shit. And hey, while you’re down there…” 

Mickey talked a bit more, and idly, Eddie listened. He knew this little B&E was going to have more components than just retrieving a few things. Had long figured out that this entire front of retrieving “some rich kids keys” was just that--a front. 

Word on the street was that Starcourt was hiding something--something a lot of very powerful people were getting increasingly interested in. He’d rolled his eyes when he caught wind of the first little rumblings, the rumors and whispers that the thing was shrouded in Government secrets and conspiracies, but hadn’t been able to ignore the shit that had come after. 

Likely, the people who had hired him and Mickey understood they had to act now, before someone else did, to see if anything worthwhile was actually down there. 

The real question is why the hell they were using Steve Harrington’s death to do it--when Eddie knew for a fact that Steve Harrington was alive. 

Or alive as anyone could be, at two am at a Shell gas station. 

“Alright.” Eddie said finally, pulling the blueprint towards himself before rolling it up, making sure to casually roll up Harrington’s picture with it. “You got me interested. Half up front and I’m in.”

Mickey grinned at him. “Knew you would be, kid.” 

One hand shake and a hefty envelope later, and Eddie found himself on the way to Starcourt on his very first stakeout. 

It was that first initial look that confirmed it--Harrington’s prized BMW was in fact, still sitting in the parking lot.

Abandoned by rich assholes who absolutely could have paid to have it towed.

Which led to a domino effect of stakeouts, late nights and confrontations, up to and including his present position, counting down the minutes before he could break into Starcourt.

“Ready?” He murmured, and one could be forgiven for thinking he was talking to himself given how quietly he said it.

They would be wrong. 

“Yeah.” The not-so-dead rich kid drawled from the passenger seat.

Eddie tossed a grin at Harrington, who rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Come on, Stevie.” He purred. “Let’s go find out who impersonated your parents, and why they want that ring you supposedly own so badly.” 

“Honestly dude I just want my car back.” 

“That too.” 

Part Two

[mewniemoon]

Sorry for not posting in a while, Ive been sick for over a week which has hindered all my wips. So have some bishop baby doodles as compensation <3

[tulsaspubliclibrarian]

HC that sometimes when Pony’s not thinking he’ll call Darry ‘sir’ and the two of them will just stare at each other for a while cause neither of them can figure out when Darry started seeming old enough to be called ‘sir’

[beetlbi]

Little drawing for How to Cat Burlgar a family by DarkLordOfAwesomeness :) link will be in the rbs, go read it!! It’s so cute!! unshaded under the cut

[clockworkreapers]

Tales From The Gas Station Vol 3

[brainrotisseriechicken]

"stop doing that" "doing what?"

(hes being annoying on purpose)

[chidoroki]

"Unstoppable" by Donna Ashworth

[beelxebub]

i totally get why people make the captain a military man or ex-military in modern AUs because it makes sense but i personally believe he would simply be one of those middle aged autistic men whose special interest is wwii military vehicles

[sorry-not-feeling-it-right-now]

It interests me how Smitten calls Cold “villain” due to his numbness

Let me explain

In media, it’s often that the heroes of the story would win with the power of love and friendship, while the villains are often defeated due to their numbness and apparent unfeeling-ness. And generally, people associate passion and love as a good thing, while being numb and apathetic is often seen as a trait that’s unfavourable. And hence, according to media, heroes are those who wears their heart on their sleeves, while villains are numb and are distant.

Smitten and Cold embodies Love and Apathy in their traits, and yet they also break that notion that love is the ultimate good thing and apathy a bad thing

Love can heal, but it can also hurt those around you and yourself if you let it blind and control you

Apathy can lead to distancing you from forming a connection with other people, but it could serve as some sort of comfort and a safety blanket, a numbness for the horrors beyond to keep you sane for a bit longer

Side note, I’ve noticed that routes with Smitten in it often leads to the Princesses hitting certain fantasy/romance troupes, like with Damsel—>Damsel in Distress, HEA—>well, a happily ever after in fairytales, Thorn—>classic love story of a betrayal blossoming into love and passion, basically enemies to lovers slow burn etc etc.

(Actually I’m pretty sure each of the Voices have their own themes that connects them to the Princesses, like how Cold is associated with death and ghosts and Skeptic is usually associated with thriller and or detective noir tropes(Paranoid living his life as a horror movie oh no))

[razzafrazzle]

strange old men!! theyre married for tax purposes (and gay purposes but thats less important)

[image description: a drawing of human designs for coach z and bubs from homestar runner. coach z is depicted as a lanky pale-skinned older man with a tooth gap, a five-o'clock shadow, and balding curly light brown hair with a grey streak through it. bubs is depicted as a bulky, dark-skinned older man with short greying afro hair and a short beard. end id]

[groovygrub]

[asexual-shelly]

hi *throws this at you and runs headfirst into a lamppost*

[inkz123]

They kidnapped me for the holidays