#like DC is letting star wars eat their ass up

[dudethatsmyundeaduncle]

Make STARFIRE a fuckin alien! I'm tired of all these nuclear family, human looking, mamalian ass customs, cultures, and humanoids!

WHOSE GONNA HAVE THE GUTS TO MAKE HER A FUCKIN 4 ARMED NEON ORANGE CREEPY PASTA LOOKING FUCKER? WHO! CUZ PINUP HUMAN LOOKING STARFIRE IS BORING AND TIRED!

have u ever asked urself why she an alien from another star system has boobs?? HUH HAVE U? CUZ THAT IMPLIES SO MUCH ABOUT TAMARANEANS AS A SPECIES THAT WE SIMPLY DO NOT KNOW!

[vikugnavikugna]

Tagge by @that-one-empty-skull

coke or pepsi? Nearly exclusively water, but I'll go Pepsi if there's a gun to my head

disney or dreamworks? Dreamworks

coffee or tea? The black sludge is a necessity, tea I drink for pleasure

books or movies? Books!!!

windows or mac? If the question was Windows or Linux I at least would have to consider it; as is, the choice is clear

dc or marvel? I LOVE BOTH!!!!!! My shelf has more DC omnis and tps by volume tho and I LOVE LOVE LOVE Superman, so ig DC

x-box or playstation? Steam Deck

dragon age or mass effect? Neither, thank you

night owl or early riser? I wake up at 6 am on a weekend

cards or chess? Cards, ig

chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate

vans or converse? I don't wear shoes like these

Lavellan, Trevelyan, Cadash, or Adaar? What.

fluff or angst? Both, angst-leaning

beach or forest? Beach

dogs or cats? I dream of cats, but wake up to a tiny ass annoyingly loud chorkie at the foot of my bed

clear skies or rain? Clear skies if I'm outside, rain when I'm inside, thank you

cooking or eating out? Eating out

spicy food or mild food? Spicy!

halloween/samhain or solstice/yule/christmas? Dziady! (Halloween)

would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot? Cold. I would just wear sweaters all the time

if you could have a superpower, what would it be? Shapeshifting to deal with my trans-ness would be nice, electricity manipulation if I wanted to minmax life tho

animation or live action? Animation

paragon or renegade? What.

baths or showers? Shower!

team cap or team ironman? I hate those fucking movies, but I love Cap in general. On a very basic level he's *basically* Marvel's Superman, after all (fundamentally a good person representing the simplistic idealism of a bygone era forced to operate a much more morally complex world - also, punches people)

fantasy or sci-fi? I was once a fantasy head but I read near exclusively hard sci-fi for like a year now so who even knows tbh

do you have three or four favourite quotes, if so what are they? “Can a magician kill a man by magic?” Lord Wellington asked Strange./Strange frowned. He seemed to dislike the question. “I suppose a magician might,” he admitted, “but a gentleman never could.” Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell “This is life, and I will not lie by saying every day will be sunshine. But there will be sunshine again, and that is a very different thing to say. That is truth.” Rhyth of War “Every concert pianist knows that the surest way to ruin a performance is to be aware of what the fingers are doing. Every dancer and acrobat knows enough to let the mind go, let the body run itself. Every driver of a manual vehicle arrives at destinations with no recollection of the stops and turns and roads traveled in getting there. You are all sleepwalkers, whether climbing creative peaks or slogging through some mundane routine for the thousandth time. You are all sleepwalkers.” Blindsight (READ BLINDSIGHT) I guess. It's all I could think of at the moment rather than all time concrete faves tho

youtube or netflix? Youtube

[REDACTED] What- What does that mean

when do you feel accomplished? Raking leaves :)

star wars or star trek? Dislike the former, didn't watch the latter

paperback books or hardcover books? I read epubs on my Pocketbook so when I buy books it's just to look good on my shelf - hardback

to live in a world without literature or without music? I could eventually get used to no music, but I cannot realistically go on without books

who was the last person to make you laugh? "Fist my bump". I just finished Project Hail May a few minutes ago, as of writing this. The author is an unfunny techbro but he has his moments

city or countryside? I live in a small ass village and I would love to move to a city

favorite chips? Lay's Oven Baked green thank you

pants or dresses? I WISH I could pull off a dress

libraries or museums? Museum!

character driven stories or plot driven stories? Character driven!

bookmarks or folding pages? Bookmarks!

Dream job? I cannot imagine a satisfying life under the capitalist system. I could be satisfied raking leaves and picking up trash for 8 hours a day, but we don't pay those people well! Make me do that but for a livable wage!

What gives you comfort? Blanket and no light and I'm set

what are some of your favorite song lyrics? "Lately I've taken to vacantly making repetitive movements/Mistakenly seen as improvements/Nearing perfection but wisely electing/To shun my reflection preferring instead shoe inspection/Cheese and chalk do not talk/But their eyes synchronize with a secret rhythm/Which is a way one could say that I love you for psychological reasons"

favorite ice cream flavor ever? Mint! Mint! Mint!

first fandom? Hard question! Akame ga Kill was the first thing I was super into but Yu Yu Hakusho was probably the first time I made fanart and interacted with ppl on the internet abt it. Worm is the first time I made digital art for smth and posted memes on the sub!

Your desert island band?

I'm scared of tagging people. Sorry if you hate this. Add new questions at the end if you follow up. @larky-lark @n0brainjustvibes @clarissa39 @heyitschartic

[plan-d-to-i]

Thank you so much for the donghua criticism! Hearing all the, cql made the resentful energy harmful unlike the donghua has had me 🙄🙄🙄. Any encounter donghua wwx has with resentful energy before the war, makes him look clearly vulnerable and susceptible to it. And he always clearly looks worse off afterwards (like look at his condition in CR!). In fact the donghua makes DC cultivation and wwx look worse, because he already has attempted it and it has harmed him. And it lends "jc just has to put up with and clean up wwx's messes" more credibility.

The donghua made about as many changes as cql did. It still follows cql's schitck of having someone interfere with wwx's cultivation during jzx's death, and the nightless city. And I am still mad they made lwj such a big part of *all* of wwx's brilliant moments in season 3, such as having lwj notice that the song of clarity was wrong and having him play it back instead of wwx.

Re THIS post.

The Cloud Recesses demonic cultivation scene was so absurd and unnecessary. They made it look like WWX was possessed by evil after he fell into Biling Lake ...he looks beyond evil at the Qiongqi path ambush too! 😫.

Overall it's also hard not to feel salty about how rushed things were in the end when they had time to bullshit w the hair pin love ballad of YZY and JFM. Like this long glance after her :

this long ass perfume commercial looking scene w the star crossed lovers music that plays over all their scenes:

WTF IS THIS 😫?!

And just the softening of the jiangs in general.

Donghua Yu Ziyuan:

canon Yu Ziyuan:

Yu ZiYuan spoke coldly, “Eat? A few days after this, when they’re at Qishan, we won’t even know if they give them any food. Why not go a few meals hungry starting from now? Let them get used to it!”

... YZY in the donghua worried about what they'll eat at the indoctrination camp!! 😆 Novel YZY- you should send them pre starved and pre weakened to the indoctrination camp. ✨strategy✨

Donghua jiang cheng:

canon jiang cheng:

Who said that you don’t deserve to be the sect leader? Nobody can say this, even you can’t either. If you do you’re looking for a beating.”

Jiang Cheng snorted, “You see how you are right now? Who can you beat up?”

As he spoke he slapped right at the middle of Wei WuXian’s chest. Although medicine and bandages had already been applied to the branded wound, being slapped out of the blue still brought immense pain.... “You’re hurting so much now, but why did you play the hero back then?! Serves you right! Teaches you your lesson!

LOOK!!!!!! LOOK at WWX just hurting HIMSELF in the donghua... lmao bc he's just, so chaotic and clumsy he jabs his own wound 🙃🙃 ...and jc's sweet gentle loving look! I can't lmfao 🌝

[writingfromkitchenator]

1,500 Followers Challenge!

The Title/Trope Challenge!

Again, thank you all for all your support!  You are all amazing and I truly cannot thank you enough for helping me get this far.  It’s certainly a milestone that I never thought I’d see.

Straight to the challenge!

Basic rules apply ~ there are 30 songs and 30 quotes posted below, pick one from your fandom with your character.  This will be open for a while as 2 requests per song/quote.  The only rule is here is, is that the requests cannot be from the same fandom.  I will try and keep the lists as updated as I can to try and avoid cross overs!

The extra - This time around, send me either a title and/or a trope to base to the fic on.  They can be as weird and wonderful as you want, or something simple.  In your ask, just specify which you are sending me and I’ll do the rest from there!

Recap:

Send me an ask with your request

Include your fandom and character

Choose a song and quote

Give me a title and/or a trope to base the fic on!

In saying that, please remember that this is all just a bit of fun, I’m sure you can have a laugh at some of the quotes below (based off of some of my favourite movies).  Please send all requests through asks, it’s easier for me to keep track of, and let me know of any questions!  It is, of course, okay to request more than once!

For now, there is no closing date, we will just keep going until all the requests are full!  Requests will be closing 1st May.

Further info below the cut.

Songs

Evermore  ~ Dan Stevens (Beauty and the Beast) - Lord of the Rings

Protector  ~ City Wolf - Supernatural and The Hobbit

I  See the Light ~ Mandy Moore and Zachary Levi (Tangled) - Lord of the Rings

I'd  Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That) ~ Meat Loaf - Marvel and Supernatural

Bloodshot  ~ Sam Tinnesz

Let’s  Hear It For The Boy ~ Deniece Williams

All  Eyes On You ~ Smash Into Pieces

Feel  Invincible ~ Skillet

Natural  ~ Imagine Dragons - Lord of the Rings

Wrong  Side Of Heaven ~ Five Finger Death Punch

Shatter  Me ~ Lindsey Stirling Ft. Lzzy Hale - Supernatural

Feeling  Good ~ Nina Simone - The Hobbit and Marvel

Somebody  To Love ~ Queen - The Hobbit and The Witcher

Hurricane  ~ Thirty Seconds to Mars

You  Give Love A Bad Name ~ Bon Jovi - The Hobbit

Girls  Just Wanna Have Fun ~ Cyndi Lauper - Supernatural

Total  Eclipse of the Heart ~ Bonnie Tyler - The Hobbit

Don’t  You (Forget About Me) ~ Simple Minds

Hell  Ain’t a Bad Place to Be ~ AC/DC

Love  Is A War ~ Jeremy Renner

A  Reason to Fight ~ Disturbed - The Witcher

True  Love ~ P!nk ft. Lily Allen - Marvel and Supernatural

Poison  ~ Alice Cooper

Sucker  for Pain ~ Lil Wayne, Wiz Khalifa & Imagine Dragons w/ Logic & Ty  Dolla $ign ft X Ambassadors (Suicide Squad)

Hello  Hello ~ Elton John ft. Lady Gaga (Gnomeo and Juliet) - Lord of the Rings and Supernatural

I’m  Gonna Be (500 Miles) ~ The Proclaimers - Marvel and Lord of the Rings

I Will Always Love You ~ Whitney Houston  (The Bodyguard) - Supernatural and Lord of the Rings

When You Wish Upon A Star ~ Cliff Edwards  (Pinocchio) - The Hobbit

Raise Hell ~ Dorothy

Leave Me Lonely ~ Imelda May

Quotes

I mean, those people aren't exactly our regular customers. (Legion)

I would not have shown you such mercy. (Legion) - Lord of the Rings

When you hesitate, people die. (Doom)

Yeah, I was thinking about it. (Doom)

Will you please get this child off my leg? (Bedknobs and Broomsticks) - Supernatural

Do you poison the dragon or just the liver? (Bedknobs and Broomsticks)

I don't know about you, but I'd like to make today worth remembering. (The Music Man) - Supernatural and Lord of the Rings

A man can't turn tail and run just because a little personal risk is involved. (The Music  Man) - Marvel

You idiots! You fools! You imbeciles! (101 Dalmatians) - Supernatural

It was a beautiful spring day. Tedious time of the year for bachelors. (101  Dalmatians) - Marvel

I think I am familiar with the fact that you are going to ignore this problem until it  swims up and bites you in the ass. (Jaws) - Lord of the Rings

Smile you son of a bitch! (Jaws)

You never have control, that’s the illusion! (Jurassic Park) - The Hobbit

Boy, do I hate being right all the time.  (Jurassic  Park) - The Witcher

The suspense is terrible.  I hope it'll last. (Willy  Wonka and The Chocolate Factory) - Lord of the Rings

So shines a good deed in a weary world. (Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory)

That was naughty. (The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen) - The Hobbit and Supernatural

You broke my heart once. This time you missed. (The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen)

You know, he looks heroic and he walks fast, but he’s kind of got a negative attitude.  (The Meg) - The Lord of the Rings

Yeah, well, I’m not crazy, I’ve just seen things no one else has. (The Meg) - Marvel

Eight years is a long time. Can I make you a cup of tea? (Godzilla) - Marvel

As far as he's concerned, you're just a pair of breasts that talk. (Godzilla) - The Hobbit

Afraid? You don't know what afraid is. You will not last five minutes without me.  (Jumanji) - The Hobbit

Oh, okay, honey. Well, that would be cheating. (Jumanji) - The Hobbit

Carrots? Why is it always carrots? I didn't even eat carrots! (Atlantis: The Lost Empire) - Supernatural

I know what you seek, and you will not find it here. (Atlantis: The Lost Empire) - Supernatural and The Witcher

No. I can't do that, and if you were in my position, you'd do the same. (Alien)

When I give an order I expect to be obeyed. (Alien)

I think it's better to have ideas. You can change an idea. Changing a belief is trickier.  (Dogma) - Lord of the Rings

Well, I say we get drunk, because I'm all out of ideas. (Dogma) - Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit

Characters I will write for:

The Hobbit – Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dwalin, Bofur, Nori, Gloin (friends only), Frerin, Thranduil, Bard, Legolas, Bilbo, Lindir, Beorn

The Lord of the Rings – Aragorn, Boromir, Eomer, Faramir, Legolas, Gimli, Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Elrond, Haldir

Supernatural – Sam, Dean, Castiel, Crowley, Gabriel, Lucifer, Benny, Balthazar, Chuck, Garth, Mick, Gadreel, Charlie, Bobby

Marvel – Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Loki, Thor, Peter Quill, Logan, Stephen Strange, Carol Danvers, Sam Wilson, Heimdall

Dragon Age – Alistair, Anders, Cullen, Morrigan, Zevran, Leliana, Fenris, Sebastian, Iron Bull, Dorian, Cassandra, Blackwall, Varric

Harry Potter – Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, Neville, Remus, Sirius, Fred, George

Star Trek (Newer Films) – Kirk, Spock, Bones, Scotty

The Witcher (TV Series) – Geralt, Yennefer, Jaskier

Of course, this list isn’t a final thing, if you feel I could write a character, please just send me a message and I’ll let you know if I’m comfortable with it or not.

Please of course note that all drabble requests are reader insert.  I will not do character pairings, but I will change to first/third person if you prefer reading that way.  Y/N will be the standard name though and remain that way.

For any Dragon Age requests, if you wish to appear as a certain race, please let me know.

[thevindicativevordan]

Mongul

Wanted to chat about another Superman Rogue who has been around a while: Mongul.

Background

Now this guy enjoys something of a mixed reputation. On one hand he, unlike many other Superman classic Rogues, has actually been in some good stories. There’s the iconic For The Man Who Has Everything by Alan Moore which is the perfect encapsulation of his core character traits. There he’s a hulking brute, with enough raw power to go toe to toe with Superman and actually hurt him with physical force alone. He’s crude, making misogynistic comments to Wonder Woman, and gleefully reveling in the conquest he plans. Yet he’s also clever, using the Black Mercy to incapacitate his foe, and has an air of faux affability to him that only adds to his menace. 

It should come as no surprise that an Alan Moore story is still Mongul’s best showing, but there are other stories worth mentioning as well. There’s Superman: Exile, the first meeting between the Post-Crisis Superman and Mongul and personally one of my favorite Post-Crisis Superman stories. There’s Mongul’s debut Pre-Crisis issue where he and Warworld first appear. There’s his attempt to hijack the Sinestro Corps during the Johns era of Green Lantern. Finally there’s his usage in Bendis Superman, which has been the first time in ages he’s been treated as a serious threat, and given an interesting way to serve as a contrast as Superman.

So why does he suffer from a mixed reputation? Well...

He sure does look familiar doesn’t he? He was created by Len Wein and Jim Starlin, and Starlin you might recall was the creator of Thanos, who was a ripoff of Darkseid. So Mongul is a copy of a copy, lacking the grandeur of Darkseid and the ambition of Thanos. He and Apocalypse are both cast in Darkseid’s mold, and have both gotten one really great and iconic storyline that guarantees they’ll stick around, but have also not traditionally fared well outside that one story. Also like Apocalypse:

He has a really bad habit of jobbing and being used by writers to prop up their characters. Jurgens used him to prop up Hank Henshaw in Reign of the Supermen and Henshaw again along with Zod in the Rebirth arc Revenge!, giving him a reputation as a joke. He also got killed by Sinestro pretty easily during his coup attempt.

Besides that he’s also unfortunately been treated as a generic tyrant for Superman to beat up, lacking much in the way of characterization, or in being a meaningful contrast to Superman beyond “Superman uses his strength to serve others, Mongul uses his to oppress them”. For a while I kind of wrote him off as a lost cause, someone that really didn’t offer anything as a Superman opponent beyond that one Alan Moore story. But recently I’ve changed my opinion; I’ve come to believe Mongul does in fact serve an important purpose and should be treated as an essential part of the Superman Rogues Gallery. Part of this turnabout was caused by really enjoying his usage in Bendis’ Superman run, which caused me to do a reread of Mongul stories, and got me thinking about who Mongul is, what he’s about, and what role he plays.

What Role Mongul Plays

A crucial realization hit me while I was rereading Mongul stories: Mongul is The Bully of the Supermythos.

He’s the guy who doesn’t delude himself into thinking he’s the hero like Lex does. He doesn’t consider himself above petty emotions or notions of right and wrong like Brainiac. He doesn’t have a sympathetic background like General Zod does. He’s the guy who enjoys pounding people into the dirt, who doesn’t mask his desire to lord over the populace behind pretenses of noble intentions. He’s gleeful as he crushes his enemies beneath his heel, he’s petty in that he enjoys forcing people to fight for his amusement, he’s dangerous in that while Darkseid can be bargained with, Mongul is always going to prefer to take what he wants via force and is powerful enough to do just that. In other words, he’s the exact kind of guy Superman started out wanting to take down, just living in the cosmic space where Superman can actually kick his ass without it feeling like punching down. 

That core ethos, beautifully summed up in All-Star Superman, is in direct opposition to Mongul’s entire lifestyle. When the United Planets starts to form in Bendis’ Superman, Mongul is outraged, not just because it may pose a threat to him, but because the very idea of the “weak” uniting into a stronger whole downright offends him. He runs Warworld to cull the “weak and unfit” of the universe for his own amusement and entertainment, the petty schoolyard bully who has turned a planet-sized Death Star into his own playground, and he climbed to the top via crushing anyone that stood against him with his own two hands or outwitting them with his brain. He’s got no time for others who think they can rise above their station in life without the physical/mental power to back that desire up. If Superman believes that everyone is capable of greatness, Mongul is a firm believer that greatness is the sole purview of the very few (and really only himself). 

This core conflict allows writers to bring back the bully hunter of the Golden Age and early New 52 t-shirt and jeans Supermen. Here’s a guy, a foreign ruler no less, who is actively oppressing people. We get to enjoy seeing Superman taking on a foreign dictator because he’s off in space instead of doing so here on Earth where thorny parallels to American interventionism abroad would be raised. Superman can be the Champion of the Oppressed again, and that’s always something I enjoy seeing.

I’d also like to bring up why Mongul was originally created. Len Wein wanted a foe for Superman who could match him physically. In other words, Mongul is like Doomsday if Doomsday actually had a personality. Mongul offers the opportunity for deeper exploration of Superman that Doomsday can’t. We know this literally because Mongul’s best story isn’t just a slugfest between the two the way Doomsday’s is. For The Man Who Has Everything is one of the best explorations of just how damn lonely being the Last Son of Krypton is for Kal. Exile explores the ethics of Superman’s no kill rule, his belief in the sanctity of life, his struggles to hold onto that belief in the face of the cruelty of others. His usage in Bendis’ run is to illustrate just how fragile the United Planets is, how easily it can break apart, and how hard Superman is going to have to strive to make it work. PKJ used Mongul in his Future State Superman: Worlds of War stories to show the lengths Superman will go to liberate others, his defiance in the face of Mongul’s attempts to break him. There’s an opportunity for psychological evaluation of Superman when Mongul shows up that just isn’t there with Doomsday. That alone is reason to keep him around, but he also brings a bunch of cool shit in addition.

Cool Aspects Mongul Brings to the Supermythos

He’s got a Death Star that doubles as a gladiator coliseum, where we get to see Superman compete with other gladiators from across the cosmos. Mongul lets Superman channel that Conan brutality in a very entertaining way, putting Superman in a setting where he’s facing lots of foes who can go up against him with raw strength and numbers alone. 

It’s a place that channels that pulp science fiction that Superman was borne from in a very entertaining way in my opinion. Also they should set a Superman video game there (but that’s another blog post). The gladiators are also useful, either as oppressed prisoners for Superman to liberate, and showcase directly how he makes life better, or as bloodthirsty mooks that can actually challenge Superman without dimishing him.

The Black Mercy is an awesome science fiction concept. While it’s been overused in relation to Mongul, it’s also the embodiment of the unknown wonders and threats of DC Cosmic. In the right hands it’s a great tool for exploring characters’ psychology. 

Bendis and Fraction reestablished that the name “Mongul” is a legacy one. The current Mongul is from a long line of Monguls, the sons killing their fathers when their fathers show weakness. Given how Rebirth has established the importance of legacy to Superman with Jon, something continued by Bendis, this may be a very crucial aspect to play off of. The way “Mongul” as a mantle is assumed is a dark contrast to the way the “Superman” mantle is taken up by others after Clark. Exploring the Mongul father-son relationship in contrast to the Clark-Jon relationship may be in the cards for the PKJ run given Mongul will be the first classic Superman Rogue appearing in PKJ Action. If not I hope some other writer will take a chance to explore the way the two contrast and compare with one another because it could be very interesting.

What I Would Change About Mongul

I think there’s already a pretty damn solid base to build off of with Mongul, but some aspects that I would play up to better establish him as separate from both Clark and Darkseid:

Making him more of a hedonist. This is a guy who eat, drinks, and fucks, and enjoys himself while doing so. He loves being a bad guy and isn’t “weighed down by his sins” or any such nonsense

Showcase his knowledge more. Mongul is smart, he’s been all over the cosmos, he learned about Warworld and the Black Mercy, show that he knows other dangerous secrets as well. Weapons, planets, florua, fauna, Mongul knows stuff not even the Guardians do

Establish some underlings. Instead of having Mongul job, use some of his gladiators, elite ones raised above the riffraff who can pose a threat and hold off Superman while Mongul accomplishes his goals

Appearance wise I’d like to make him look more different from Darkseid. I’d want to draw on dinosaurs for his look. If you need to justify it, just have another son replace the current Mongul and become the new Mongul, or have Mongul modify himself with enhancements in order to beat Superman

Mongul is cool and brings a lot to the table, DC just needs to stop treating him as a jobber and more as a legitimate threat. I was happy with how Bendis used him, and I am hopeful that PKJ will continue to treat him well. He’s a villain who actually has stories that showcase why he rocks, and not just cool ideas that have never come together like other Superman Rogues. Hopefully he’ll get more opportunities to showcase that.

[honey-dewey]

Valentine’s Day Drabbles!

Happy Valentine’s Day! I couldn’t decide who to write for today, so I did all of them! (If I really had to pick, it would’ve been Frankie, let’s be honest) As is the drabble rules, each drabble is exactly 100 words, and I hope you like it! 

Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

Din Djarin:

(Is there a Star Wars equivalent of Valentine’s Day? Let’s say yes.) 

“Cyar’ika, wake up.” 

Din’s not the most outwardly affectionate, but you bet your ass he’ll do whatever you want for Valentine’s Day. A quiet day on the Crest? Done. Going out for the night? Okay. He’ll find somewhere nice. 

But you’re stuck on the Crest, and he’s not going to ignore you. In fact, you find him trying to make dinner. Trying. He’s never been the best cook. Your Valentine’s Day dinner was supposed to be all romantic and candlelit, and instead it was a disaster on the floor. You simply laughed and told him you could fix it together.

Marcus Moreno:

“Babe, I love you.” 

Marcus wakes you up with breakfast in bed. He’s a romantic like that. Missy spends the day with Anita, so you and Marcus have the house to yourselves. Breakfast is eaten before you can even get out of bed, and Marcus dotes on you all day after that. 

Then, dinner. He doesn’t want to leave the house, so he cooks. You put on a beautiful outfit he’d bought you and decide to surprise him with nice lingerie underneath. After an amazing dinner, you give Marcus his unexpected present, and he is very eager to accept it. 

Max Phillips:

“Oh darling, get ready for this.” 

Max is a spoiler, so expect almost too much on Valentine’s Day. He’s all about pampering you. He takes the day off work, gets you roses and chocolates, and while you laugh, he presents you with a vampire teddy bear. 

You, however, are not one to be upstaged. You decided earlier that you’d finally let Max feed off you. He nearly cries when you offer your neck to him, and he makes sure your Valentine’s feeding is one you’ll never forget. After that, it becomes tradition for him to feed from you every Valentine’s.

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales:

“I love you, baby.”  

Frankie is a romantic, and he wants your Valentine’s Day to be perfect. He makes dinner and keeps it all a secret until he leads you to the kitchen where a table full of candles, roses, and food. He makes the same meal you two ate on your first date, and it’s even better than before. 

Little does Frankie know, you’ve got a surprise for him too. His favorite movies all set up with a pillow fort in the bedroom. Popcorn mixed with M&Ms, just like he likes. It’s the perfect end to the day. 

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels:

“Close your eyes for me Darlin’.” 

Jack doesn’t get the day off work, but that doesn’t mean he can’t wow you. You visit his workplace and he invites you on a long horseback ride. Turns out, he found a picnic spot that was just divine, and he made lunch for you. 

So it’s only natural you want to one-up him. You, along with Ginger and Tequila, get Jack the day off the next day, and you spend all night teasing him over dinner before finally blindfolding him and taking him to bed. 

Needless to say, he appreciates the day off.

Ezra:

(Again, is Valentine’s day a thing in this alternate sci-fi universe?)

“My dearest songbird, guess what day it is.”

Ezra’s a very open person, so keeping the date a secret is like torture. You two are on a prospecting trip, and he definitely has an idea. He fashions a ring for you with a stone he took from your first trip together, and has very special plans for it.

You, however, had not forgotten the date. You fully expected Ezra to surprise you with your normal dinner, lit by candles. You did not expect him to get down on one knee and propose to you at the end of the meal. 

Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey

“Me? Romantic? You’ve got to be kidding.” 

Yeah so he’s a hopeless romantic. He straight up calls you Persephone on the daily. He’s in love with a capital L. 

So, for the big day, he sticks to the theme. Dressing in his favorite (only) suit, he makes you a beautiful black and red dress (or suit) for you to wear out to dinner. 

You eat, flirt, and be merry, knowing full well you’re wearing a brand new black lingerie set under the outfit. When you get back to Dio’s apartment and he learns you’re wearing it, you better be ready. 

Javier  Peña: 

“I’m sorry, it’s all I could do.” 

Poor Javi gets no time off, so his Valentine’s plans are extremely limited. He can either pick up dinner or pray he can slip away long enough to make something. 

In the end, he resorts to option number one. Grabbing your favorite take out, he opens the door, ready to apologize he couldn’t do better, when he sees you out on the tiny balcony, surrounded by fairy lights and candles. You two eat take out on the balcony, feet tangled together, and he decides this is the best Valentine’s day he’s ever had. 

Maxwell Lord:

“You’re my Queen. I’d do anything for you.” 

Lovely Maxwell is so over the top in showing his love. However, when you sit him down at the beginning of February and insist on doing something smaller, he tones it down. 

You two take the day off and spend it with Alistair until dinner. For dinner, you and Maxwell dress to the nines and go out. It’s Maxwell’s opportunity to show you luxury, and boy does he. 

After dinner, it actually starts snowing, so you two walk through DC as it snows, arm in arm. It’s a truly perfect Valentine’s Day

[yikesharringrove]

Devil Horns

Part 2/Billy version of Please Tell Me So

Read on Ao3

-

Billy was six when he realized his mother was different from the other kids’ mothers in his class.

Billy loved her more than anything else in the entire world.

She was young, no lines adorned her face. She wore long dresses and didn’t brush her hair. She was beautiful, and kind, and sang to him. She bought him comic books and read literature like Little Women to him. She would take him to the beach and braid his long hair, grown out to mimic hers.

She was young when she became pregnant. She dropped out of college at fifteen, a sophomore kicked out of her parent’s house. She found the only people that would take her in, friends from concerts and peace rallies that lived in tents and trailers on a large property together. She delivered him in a trailer, an older woman, the matriarch of the community, acting as midwife for all the young mothers. She screamed and held the hands of other women and brought a tiny pink son into the world.

She always cared for her baby, but a child herself, she made mistakes. She welcomed Neil back into her life, keeping correspondence through letters his entire deployment. She married him at the courthouse, Billy swinging on her arm, one little hand fisted in her white gauzy dress.

She made sure Billy knew he was loved for exactly who he is every single day.

But where she was kind, sunshine and flowers, Neil was mean, gravel and boulders.

Billy was six the first time his father hit him.

It was a quick backhand for talking back one night after dinner.

His entire life changed in one instant. The innocence of childhood melted right off him.

Neil Hargrove was an angry man. He liked things a certain way. A military man, he served his time in ‘Nam. He wanted the precision and order of boot camp in his everyday life. He married Billy’s mother when he returned for war, returning to a six-year-old Billy raised entirely by a community.

He was tight-laced, didn’t like the free spirit Billy’s mother passed onto their son. He didn’t like that the boy was soft. He cried easily over small, stupid things. His blue eyes would fill with tears at the idea of eating meat, traumatized at the concept of eating animals .

Neil didn’t like hippies. He saw them as the scum of the earth, people who did drugs and had sex and lived disgusting, dirty lifestyles. He was livid when he returned to California to find his only son growing up in a hippie community, being raised by many. Being raised to be soft, kind, to love anyone, everyone .

He never forgave the boy for being emotional. He was a crier, his heart broke easily and quickly. He felt the pain of others as his own. His father was pain incarnate. All he did was hurt .

He called Billy’s mother a whore, a dirty hippie, a beatnik . He called Billy a lardass, a pussy, a queer .

So Billy got angry. Internalizing his pain in any way he knows how.

He was seven when he first got in a fight. Just a little tiff between kids. He spat ugly names fairy, pussy, queer and threw his hands, trying to make any contact he could. His mother told him it’s not right to hurt others. His father called him a piece of shit and pushed him into the wall.

He was eight when he discovered metal in the record shop down the street. He loved the anger, the fire, the passion, the fun . He loved the men with tight pants and long hair. He learned that his mother, with her soft rock and psychedelic tastes would still dance around the kitchen to Black Sabbath and AC/DC. His mother smiled at him when he showed her the poster he bought of Jim Morrison, knowing she loved The Doors. He told her he thought he was pretty. His father called him a piece of shit and slammed him into the wall.

He was nine when he first heard another kid call his mother a name. Said hippie like his father did, as though it was a swear. He tossed a milkshake in the boy’s face, only to cry as his mother, a waitress at the diner, was forced to mop up the spill. She stroked his hair and told him it was okay and gave him an extra plate of fries. His father called him a piece of shit and slammed him into the wall.

He was ten when his mother left. She was gone by the time he woke up the next morning, her dresses and hats, her books and perfume, gone , only an empty space left in Billy’s heart. She called him a few weeks later, explaining to him that she loved him, but his father was causing her too much pain. His father cornered him in his room and slurred that his mother left because she’s a whore and that she never loved Billy.

He was eleven the first time he met Susan. She made dinner for himself and his father. He was told to be on his best behavior and set the table and clean the dishes. He complimented her hair and her cooking and met Max less than two months later.

He was twelve the first time he kissed a boy. He and Thomas met up under the boardwalk. Billy ended the short, sweet kiss by pushing him to the sand, threw the same slurs his father threw so easily, and screamed if you ever tell anyone, I’ll fuckin’ kill you . Thomas never spoke to him again, and Billy lost the closest friendship he had ever had.

He was thirteen when he finally lost his baby weight. He was lean, growing quickly and bulking up due to the sheer amounts of sports he was playing, at his father’s will. He grew strong, and his mean streak only widened, now backed up by a punch that could break. Girls started noticing him, women started noticing him, but he never noticed them. So he began to learn.

He was fourteen when he started going to parties. He learned to lean over girls, to wink at them, bare his teeth and stare at their breasts. He learned they liked it when he was mean, when they thought he was a bad boy in need of fixing . They would give him gossip, a warm body, and hold him when he wanted it. He learned to close his eyes and press their heads down until they choked on him. He learned that parties usually had drunk boys that would stare at him from across the room. He learned that a smirk and a long bout of eye contact was enough to let them know to follow.

He was fifteen when he spent all his savings on the Camaro, a junker he began fixing up entirely by himself. The car was loud, and made him feel free . He drove two cities over, finding a bar that catered to his type and got in with an unbuttoned shirt, tight jeans, and a well-timed wink at the bouncer. He learned he liked pretty boys, soft ones he could bury himself in. He learned he liked it when they moaned, high and breathy. He learned to pull hair and coo God, you’re gorgeous .

He was fifteen when he began lying every weekend. Citing parties and non-existent concerts as covers while he followed nameless men to motel rooms from the crowded gay bar he had chosen that night. He learned to spray dainty perfume on his jacket before he re-entered his house. He learned to toss around names like Amber and Courntey and Becky .

He was fifteen when he came home past curfew, with a hickey on his neck, on his chest. His father slapped him across the face and locked him in his room, took his keys with a reminder that he shouldn’t be driving yet . He learned that piercing your own ear doesn’t hurt that bad. He learned that he liked the way a gold hoop looked in his lobe.

He was sixteen when his father caught him with a boy, Seth from down the street. They were in Billy’s bed, kissing hungrily. Billy learned what it feels like to tumble down the stairs. He learned what it’s like to be hated. He learned how long the drive is from San Diego to Hawkins.

He was sixteen the first time he saw Steve Harrington. A beautiful boy with fear and sadness in his eyes. Tommy loved to spin tales of King Steve, the Great and Terrible , but Billy couldn’t match up the bullying douchebag with the sweet boy who looked at Nancy Wheeler like she hung the stars in the sky, just for him. He learned that Steve blushed when he called him Princess and Pretty Boy .

He was sixteen when he was angriest at Max, blaming her for the move, knowing it was his own preferences that brought them here. Knowing it was a father that hated him enough to move him to a place he could be killed for being himself. He learned to pick on her friends. He learned to break her things. He learned messing with her made him feel like shit.

He was sixteen when he met Steve at the quarry for the first time. They tangled themselves together in the back of Steve’s car, the air smelling like sweat and cigarettes and cum . He learned that Steve had a big house, that his parents were almost never home. He learned that Steve had nightmares and was afraid of his own swimming pool. He learned that Steve liked it when he was gentle and slow, treating the porcelain skin like it was made of porcelain glass, pressing kisses and pet names into his body. He learned that Steve fell in love quickly. He learned that he fell in love quickly too.

He was sixteen when he told Steve about his father. He came to Steve when he was hurt, angry and ready to break, to break something . He whispered about how his father hated him, hated people like him, like them. How it felt to fall downstairs. How it felt to have a split lip in the same pattern as his father’s class ring. He learned that Steve didn’t mind if he cried. He learned that Steve cried with him. He learned that trusting Steve made him feel lighter the next day. He learned what apologizing to Max is like.

He was sixteen when he planned for his summer in Hawkins, getting a job he was overqualified for. He drove to the mall as often as he could, eating far too much ice cream for someone who was about to spend all summer shirtless. He learned what Steve’s ass looked like in blue sailor shorts. He learned that Steve could be convinced to leave it on, Pretty Boy . He learned that he wanted to save up money for college, for California, for his future, for his future with Steve.

He was sixteen when Steve cooked him an elaborate dinner, early into summer, staying awake in the sticky night to count down to Billy’s seventeenth birthday. Billy learned that Steve preened when Billy told him he loved him.

He was seventeen when he began taking the lifeguard stand at the public pool. Overtired moms and bored housewives flocked to the sun loungers, watching him sit and blow his whistle. He learned that if he called them by their names they would buy him cold drinks. He learned if he smirked at them just so they would tip him for swim lessons.

He was seventeen when he got in a fight with Steve, disappearing in the Camaro to cool down and think things out. His car got hit, the right side smashing inwards, the windscreen splintering. He learned that monsters are real, that the stuff of nightmares lives in Hawkins, Indiana. He learned what possession is like.

He was seventeen when his veins went black. When he felt nothing but the urge to build it, build it . He hurt the people around him, offering Heather and her family to the creature, knocking out Max and the Wheeler boy, and taking El to impending death. He learned what being afraid was like, he learned that he had been afraid his entire life. He learned that some monsters are made from stolen flesh, some monsters are made from the flesh that created his own.

He was seventeen when he died. Rather him than any of these children . He was only a child himself, but a child that had seen too much, been hurt too much. He learned that death in that way is painful. He learned that resurrection is only more so.

He was eighteen when he left the hospital, the one run by the government. He left with scars, a limp, and a large sum of cash for compensation . He learned that Steve still loved him. He learned that Steve didn’t mind his scars, his pain, would hold him through the worst nightmares. He learned that Steve would take him to therapy, one at the government hospital, and one in a local church for Survivors of Abuse .

He learned that his father was killed by the monster, the monster that was Billy. He learned he didn’t know how to feel about that. Steve had just pet his hair, said fuck him , and you don’t have to mourn that asshole .

He was eighteen when he took his college fund, his compensation money, his savings, and Steve’s paychecks and put them in a box in the back of the Camaro. He learned that Steve had a hard time reading maps and that the drive was more fun when all that was waiting was love and warmth.

He was nineteen when he earned his G.E.D., citing severe injury as the cause to his delayed education. He applied to college. He got into college. He began going to college. He learned he loved meeting new people, being able to tell them about his boyfriend, Steve . He learned the California sun was more healing than any amount of physical therapy. He learned he was not ashamed of his scars.

He was twenty when he held Steve to his chest and rubbed his back and told him he was so sorry you had to go through that, Pretty Boy, when he finally let Billy in on the secrets that haunted his big brown eyes. He learned that he had saved Steve’s life as much as Steve had saved his.

Billy Hargrove was twenty when he learned what happiness was.

[thewritingstar]

1-200 we're all in quarantine so got nothing to do. Might as well ask pls

oo anon you were gonna ask anyways lol. But I did this hella quick during a zoom.....

1. What is your middle name?

-Rose

2. Do you have any nicknames that aren’t derived from your actual name?

-Star

2. Do you have any allergies?

-Penicillin (not really thou), but no

4. What is the longest your hair has ever been?

-Lower back

5. How well can you write in cursive?

-Its readable

6. Name one item on your bucket list.

-Going to all the Disney parks in the world

7. Have you ever been on a blind date?

-haven’t even been on a real date

8. What is the oldest piece of clothing you still wear and how old is it?

-prob like five years ago and its jeans

9. How often do you eat out at a fancy restaurant?

-nothing like I have to dress up but maybe once a year??

10. How grammatically correct are you when you text?

-rules don’t apply in text

11. Can you drive stick?

-hell no

12. What foreign country would you most like to visit and why?

-japan because I think it would be so cool

13. Nutella or peanut butter?

-NUTELLA

14. At what age did you have your first kiss?

-...............ahahhahahh

15. DC or Marvel?

-DC. Harley Quinn owns my ass

16. Have you ever hosted a wild party?

-my parties consist of drinking capri suns and playing cards against humanity and Mario kart

17. Name/author of the last book you read cover to cover. Do you recommend it?

-...ooof haven’t read a book in a while

18. How many of your Facebook friends do you actually hang with?

-my mom

19. Have you ever donated blood?

-I was apart of a cancer study so I used to donate my blood (and pee) to science

20. From 1-10, how much do you like decorating for holidays?

-8 I love to decorate but I’m not allow near the Christmas trees

21. Coffee or tea?

-vaniila iced lattes or raspberry ice tea own me

22. What is your go-to Starbucks drink?

-Vanilla bean frap with extra vanilla

23. Last show you binge watched?

-currently its assassination classroom

24. Dogs or cats?

-puppy’s

25. Favorite animated Disney character?

-Jessica Rabbit, Dumbo, Rey, Tamatoa and Guedo

26. Have you ever cooked a big family meal by yourself?

-mostly baking for my family

27. Favorite winter activity?

-Staying inside

28. Have you ever butt dialed anyone?

-probably

29. Can you blow a bubble gum bubble?

-yes

30. How early in the year do you start celebrating Christmas?

-my mom plays Xmas music year round

31. What emoji best describes your life right now?

-the wilting rose

32. Are you fluent in more than one language?

-nope

33. What is the longest you’ve ever kept a New Year’s resolution?

-I don’t make them

34. Have you ever successfully been on a diet? Did you gain any of the weight back?

-I’m on a diet to gain weight and its not going well

35. Are any of your grandparents still alive?

-only on my moms side

36. How good are you at communicating through facial expressions?

-hahaha my face gives everything away and I can read people pretty well

37. Have you ever gotten a commercial jingle stuck in your head?

-EDUCATION CONNECTION! Get connected for free

38. Have you ever left a movie theater before the movie was over?

-Nope

39. Do you consider rapping singing?

-rapping is in its own ballpark...its why its called rapping

40. Does your home have a fireplace?

Yep

41. Favorite non-chocolate candy?

-sour gummies worms

42. If you could have only one superpower, what would you want and why?

-oooof ummmmmm maybe teleportation

43. Have you ever locked your keys in your car?

44. Do you listen to any religious music?

-noooooooooo

45. Do you drink soda? If so, which one is your favorite?

-I hate soda

46. What was your ACT score?

-do not do me like this (21)

47. Rice or quinoa?

-rice

48. From 1-10, how good of a driver do you consider yourself?

-like an 8

49. Do you like horror movies?

-nope

50. How easily do you cry?

-uh depends on what it is

51. Do you have any tattoos? If so, of what and where?

-no but I want some

52. You are hanging with your closest friends. What are you most likely doing?

-being dumb and quoting tik toks at target

53. Can you handle spicy foods? What is your spice limit?

-not very well

54. Can you play any musical instruments? If so, which ones?

-no

55. Are you more introverted or extroverted?

-middle of the road

56. Last CD you bought?

-Folklore by Taylor Swift

57. Do you like roller coasters?

-yessss but they cant be extremely tall

58. What day of the week is laundry day for you?

-uhhh depends on when I have time

59. Have you ever played spin the bottle?

-uh maybe once but I was in fourth grade and walked away

60. How long have you known your best friend?

-I’ve known my bestie for 16 years (met when we were 4)

61. Can you eat using chopsticks?

-yes!! I usually eat my Chinese food with them

62. Do you have any stickers on your laptop computer? If so, what are they of?

-no because I need to get a case for my iMac and iPad

63. How often do you say y'all?

-every fucking day. Y’all is my go too

64. Favorite flavor of ice cream?

-cookie dough, pralines and cream, blue raspberry sherbert, vanilla, coffee

65. How long was your longest relationship? Are you still with that person?

-my longest relationship was like three weeks in fourth grade with my friends cousin who I saw twice

66. Star Trek or Star Wars?

-haven’t seen either but prob Star Wars cause r2d2 is cute

67. How good are you at math?

-ehhh I’m okay at stats

68. Have you ever acted in a play or a musical?

-used to do the plays in middle school :)

69. How often do you read/pay attention to your horoscope?

-not much my horoscope but just my sign in general

70. What is the shortest your hair has ever been?

-just above my shoulders

71. Have you ever broken any bones?

-my big toe

72. Do you like to go fishing?

-nooooooo I went fishing once and it pooped on me

73. Do you believe in evolution?

-of course

74. Favorite costume you wore for Hallowen? How old were you?

-I was perry the platypus…. 19

75. Real or fake Christmas trees?

-fake!!! WHO WANTS TO CLEAN THAT UP???

76. How many pillows do you sleep with?

-usually 1-2 but like 5 in the winter

77. Do you live in an apartment or a house?

-House rn

78. How many of your friends are of the opposite gender?

-in my close circle, one but I do have many boy homies

79. Have you ever had a near-death experience?

-many times

80. How long have you been at your current job?

-four weeks

81. What kind of car do you drive (year, brand, model, color)?

-white car

82. How flexible are you?

-not super but mama can bend

83. Have you ever ended a romantic relationship?

-haven’t even started one

84. Phrase you say the most?

-“I’m uncomfortable” “Y’all” “I would let J.D from heathers…..”

85. Have you ever kissed anyone of the same gender? If so, did you like it?

-no but I wish

86. Do you own any homemade clothing?

-not that I know of

87. Do you like fast food?

-yessss

88. Have you ever given anyone CPR?

-nope

89. Have you ever learned to do anything from a how-to video on YouTube?

-I fixed my moms glasses yesterday with a video so she wouldn’t have to spend a shit ton of money

90. Describe your sense of humor.

-if Always Sunny in Philadelphia and “vine comp that butters my eggroll” had a baby

92. Favorite cereal?

-no

93. Have you ever auditioned for a reality competition show?

-no

94. Have you ever gotten a TV theme song stuck in your head?

-Sugar, spice and everything nice, these were the ingredients…….

95. Do you believe in ghosts?

-indifferent

96. Do you think there is life on other planets?

-hell yeah

97. Have you ever given money to a street performer?

-yep

98. Your deepest fear?

-lets not go there

99. Pancakes or waffles?

-waffles but I don’t even like them that much

100. Are you still friends with anyone from high school?

-yep, my friend circle dates back to elementary

101. From 1-10, how good of a dancer do you consider yourself?

-7

102. How much of a patient person are you?

-I can be extremely patient. Once waited three hours in a dressing room with my friend and I didn’t have a phone

103. Do you know your IQ?

-no but its prob god level

104. Do you eat meat at all?

-mama loves meat

105. Do you own any clothes from a garage sale or a thrift store?

-I think so

106. Have you ever bought anything from a flea market?

-yess my mom used to take me to flea markets all the time

107. Have you ever quit a job?

-early this year

108. Have you ever gotten a song you dislike stuck in your head?

-many times

109. Any movie(s) you can watch over and over and over again and enjoy just as much each time?

-robots to ratatouille

110. Do you or have you ever worn glasses?

-just sun glasses

111. Have you ever skinny dipped?

-when I was like 6

112. Are your birth parents still together?

-yep

113. Have you ever been in the audience for the taping of a TV show?

-not that I know of

114. Favorite type of cookie?

-chocolate chip or the sugar cookies with the pink frosting on them (I’m a whore for them)

115. Have you ever been broken up with?

-nope

116. How often do you smile when getting your picture taken?

-most of the time

117. Have you ever accidentally dialed 911?

-yes I have and I was 6 and bullied for it for years by my uncle even though my cousins tricked me into doing it

118. Oldest memory?

-throwing a chair at a kid in preschool for stealing my cookie

119. Have you ever been the victim of a nasty prank?

-nope

120. How often do you snort when you laugh?

-uhhhh a lot

121. From 1-10, how good of a singer do you consider yourself?

-5

122. Favorite Disney song?

-uuuuuuhhh Shiny, See the Light, Why Don’t you Do Right, Show Yourself

123. Where do you see yourself 10 years from now?

-hopefully in la

124. What is your Myers-Briggs personality type?

-I’m an advocate

125. Have you ever had a fortune cookie fortune come true?

-I think so

126. Name one thing you wish people would stop posting on social media.

-fascist, racist, homophobia stuff

127. Last musical artist you saw live?

-Jonas brothers

128. Credit cards or cash?

-cash cause I feel like I didn’t spend anything

129. Favorite fandom?

-the powderpuff girls or fairy tail

130. What is your astrological sign?

-Aries

131. Have you ever been fired from a job?

-nope I’m a good noodle

132. Any hidden talents?

-I can do the cinnamon challenge

133. Can you surf?

-nope

134. What motivates you to do well in life?

-the fear of failure

135. Your worst physical feature?

-my acne

136. From 1-10, how much are you like your father?

-mehhhhhhhh like a 4

137. How lucky do you consider yourself?

-I’m a pretty lucky person ngl

138. Name a moment in your life when you were pleasently surprised.

-when I won a coffee maker at my senior grad night raffle

139. Have you ever been summoned for jury duty?

-nope

140. What type of shoes do you wear the most?

-my converse

141. Favorite summer activity?

-getting coffee

142. Favorite song to sing in the shower?

-any Taylor swift song

143. Have you ever lived with a roommate you did not get along with?

-my parents sometimes

144. Have you ever lived on a farm?

-my grandparents owned a cherry farm when I was little

145. Have you ever kept a diary or a journal?

-tumblr is my diary

146. TV show or movie you quote/reference the most?

-Always Sunny, The Office, Gotham

147. How often do you get mad at yourself?

-constantly

148. Have you ever gotten any stitches?

-only in animal crossing (he’s so cute)

149. Have you ever been hunting?

-no

150. Favorite YouTube channel?

-Jenna marbles, try guys, mukbang edit channel, drama channels

151. Have you ever had a pet besides a dog or a cat?

-I had a mouse once

152. From 1-10, how well do you work with others?

-9

153. Are you friends with any of your exes?

-I don’t got exes

154. Apple or PC?

-I have an Apple Mac rn but I think I loved my pc so much so I’m getting used to the format

155. Do you collect anything?

-what don’t I collect? Funko, pins, so much stuff

156. Have you ever seen any Broadway plays or musicals?

-I saw Newsies and A Music chorus

157. Any missed opporunites you wish you had taken?

-I’m not too sure

158. Have you ever uttered a spoken hashtag?

-yes

159. Do you have a pool at your house?

-nope

160. What is the longest you’ve gone without sleep?

-like 24 hours and it was hell

161. Last thing that made you laugh?

-a meme 20 sec ago

162. Disney or Nickelodeon?

-Disney

163. Name one celebrity you wish was still alive.

-Billy Mays (Oxyclean dude)

164. From 1-10, how much are you like your mother?

-maybe a 6

165. Your best physical feature?

-my hair

166. Earbud or earmuff headphones?

-earbud

167. Have you ever wished you were born the opposite gender?

-..hmmmm sometimes I think it would be cool but I’m pretty content with being a girl...

168. Do you have any piercings anywhere besides your ear lobes?

-my nose

169. How often do you wash your hair?

-every other day usually

170. Showers or baths?

-I love a good bath but I take showers more

171. Have you ever been a bridesmaid or a groomsman?

-noooo but I wanna be

172. Bottled or tap water?

-bottle

173. What was your favorite TV show when you were a kid?

POWERPUFF GIRLS

174. Any guilty pleasures you’re willing to discuss?

-watching glee

175. Favorite video game?

-Mario kart

176. Have you ever gotten a New Year’s kiss exactly at midnight?

-nooooo why are there so many questions about kissing

177. How many of the United States have you visited?

-four, ive passed over a few more in a plane

178. Have you ever given money to a homeless person?

-yes

179. Have you ever gotten a surgery?

-no

180. Your least favorite food?

-cheese

181. From 1-10, how competitive are you?

-depends. I’m like a 6 but I can be pushed to a 10 when motivated

182. Do you like wearing hats?

-only a snap back occasionally

183. How much of a jealous peron are you?

-ehh not really

184. What was your SAT score?

-900-1100 (stop nationwide testing doesn’t work and I didn’t learn eveything)

185. Have you ever voted for a reality competition show?

-no

186. Does anyone in your family currently serve in your country’s military?

-my cousin

187. Snowboarding or skiing?

-I don’t do snow

188. What celebrity would you most want to play you in a movie about your life?

-jack black

189. Have you ever been a Boy or Girl Scout?

-hell no

190. Have you ever dyed your hair?

-many times

191. From 1-10, how good of a cook do you consider yourself?

-7

192. You have just opened up a web browser. What is the first site you visit?

-this cursed site

193. How many things can you do with your weaker hand?

-a lot

194. Were you involved in any academic clubs in high school?

-honors i guess

195. Have you ever played hooky from school?

-like twice

196. Are you comfortable with watching rated R movies?

—-not with my parents

197. Do you root for any sports teams?

-bold of you to assume i do sport

198. First thing you do when you wake up in the morning?

-pee

199. If you could take home any one animal from the zoo, which one would you choose?

-a lizard

200. Tell something about yourself most people don’t know.

-uhhh ummmm (I have a tik tok with 7.5k followers) 

[bigskydreaming]

Dropping off another commission which means okay NOW I only have one to finish. This one is a throwback to that time I was talking Marvel/DC crossover ships, and I said okay but what about Dick/Wanda because yeah, like two of the only Rom heroes in anywhere being a thing would be pretty cool, but also like.

Batfam + Magnetfam holiday dinner gatherings.

Someone agreed, and asked for more along those lines and asked that I not worry about the crack potential but feel free to embrace it instead, citing that Batboys adopted by Zatanna AU I wrote as a tone they’d enjoyed. Their only other requests were they wanted to see if I could include Luna and Crystal in any ways, and that I give Stephanie some time in the spotlight. I warned them that my usual take on Stephanie is ADHD as hell, but that apparently was not a problem, so uh...hang on when it gets to Steph or be prepared for her to leave you in the dust. She doesn’t slow down for stragglers.

There were a ton of characters to juggle in this so not everyone gets the same degree of focus, but I did my best to work everyone relevant to the scenario in as best I could. Also, I don’t actually know where a couple of these particular takes came from - I’ve never ever written Lorna anything remotely like this in my life, but I kinda just let the crack do what it wanted to do. *Shrugs* I have no defense, only oops.

Anyway, without further ado, I give you 15K, yes you heard that right, 15K of crossover crack that puts the Batfamily and the Magnetfamily at the same dinner table, lights the match and then runs for cover.

************************

We enter unobtrusively through the dining room’s lone doorway. Our awkward approach is that of the mockumentary style; our hushed atmosphere is that of taking ourselves very seriously, because if we don’t, who will? 

Said dining room’s doorway is perfectly situated so as to allow only one point of entrance and exit. Also: maximum drama while doing so. The architecture of Wayne Manor was designed with a clear set of priorities in mind. We invite you to picture the airs of Downtown Abbey, but  as if skewing less towards the egalitarian passive aggressive stylings associated with British High Drama, and more towards the rather more direct passive aggressive stylings of American High Drama. 

As an example...where a British soap opera might depict someone dramatically gasping “Why, I never!” and clutching symbolically at their heart in order to convey they’re mere insults away from having a myocardial infarction, an American soap opera might instead depict someone dramatically yelling “Bleep you!” and then vaulting across the table to punch someone in the face in order to convey they’re really quite angry and the only way to fully express that is by starting a feud that will last 72 episodes and only end when one of them is murdered and replaced by their evil twin.

That sort of thing. 

We return to unobtrusively entering through the doorway whose very singular purpose in the narrative is as a conveyance that this is the House That Drama Built. 

It should be added as an afterthought that only just occurred to us but is no less important because of its poor punctuality: the House That Drama Built also exists as a kind of metaphysical Drama vampire that cultivates an atmosphere of Drama whilst simultaneously feasting on the Drama it creates just to harvest as its crop of choice.

Quite nasty and shiver-inducing, to be sure, but let it serve as a good rule of thumb: Don’t trust centuries old rich people houses. There’s always something messed up about those places. Seriously. You know its true.

Proceeding onward, and despite having explicitly mapped out why its impossible to do so, we nevertheless manage to sidle into prime vantage points without being noticed. Look, we can do stuff like that because we’re magic, okay? Also fictional, and really just a tonal framing device introduced as a thin coat of varnish overlaying everything with the glistening sheen of crack fiction. Now shush and pretend we’re not here, which should be easy because we’re not.

The two family patriarchs, Erik Lehnsherr and Bruce Wayne, each sit at opposing heads of the excessively long dining room table that is almost certainly an indication one of Bruce’s direct ancestors felt a clear and urgent need to overcompensate for something.

Locked in an epic battle of wills that looks remarkably similar to the staring contest perfected by kindergartners everywhere, though that’s undoubtedly just a coincidence,the two titans of temperament face off in a face-off for the ages. 

Both steel-faced and with backs so straight the sight would make any right angle weak in the knees, these bastions of brooding are equally infamous for their rigidity and refusal to bend, even when they probably should - because sometimes its a battle over the fate of the world and a fight for the very heart and soul of humanity, yes, absolutely true, but other times their children just asked if they could have pizza tonight instead of meatloaf and it really didn’t need to escalate that quickly, but oh well.

Heedless of the judgment of fictional narrators as well as every person to ever suggest to them that their sphincters might actually benefit from the occasional attempt to unclench, the Master of Magnetism is an irresistible force while channeling the unleashed totality of his willpower through his steady gaze, as fixed and unwavering as the North Star itself. At the same time, his counterpart is an equally immovable object while planted firm and steady in his convictions, the imposing edifice of his impassive expression not likely to be eroded by the mere disdain of another mortal. Not when the Man of Bats has stubbornly stared down gods. 

Admittedly, the last one used the opportunity to blast him through time and space instead, but that’s the kind of risk one takes when matching an ageless deity ego for ego. It should not be viewed as an indication as to whom among these two mighty mortals might appear the victor when engaged in similar combat. Especially as neither is in possession of magic eye beams which technically should count as cheating, if you really think about it.

They match each other fractional eye squint for fractional eye squint. Both lost in the intensity of each other’s gaze in a way that regardless of tropes is less enemies to lovers and more enemies to psych, we’re still enemies and if our kids do tie the knot, I’m totally going to insist on hosting the wedding at my big-ass mansion and you can call that a power move if you want because it totally is, what about it?

In response to the challenge that’s conveyed with crystal clarity thanks to the power of crack, Erik’s own gaze narrows fractionally further as he reaches down with his mutant abilities until they chance upon a vein of iron miles deep. He then proceeds to push and pull on it in such a way as to make the earth shift beneath their feet.

He is not subtle about being the cause. That sort of thing isn’t really in his wheelhouse.

However, in the name of defending Erik from his children’s exasperated glares, it should be pointed out here that Bruce did in fact ask, what about it, and Erik did in his own fashion simply indicate what about it indeed.

Well. Sorta.

The initial clash of wills meeting wills subsides and assures both men that their opponent will be no easy pushover. With that, the concrete aspiring contenders retreat once more to their far sides. They proceed to keep eyes locked and faces solemn and still, neither taking their gaze off the other even while eating or responding to some conversation piece directed at them by another denizen of the dining room.

“This is quite the meal, Mr. Pennyworth. You are to be commended,” Erik says sincerely. His face is still as smooth as Lake Placid, with nary a Syfy Original killer crocodile lurking dangerously beneath the surface.

“Yes, truly some of your best work, Alfred, thank you,” Bruce adds completely deadpan, not to be outdone.

Eternally placing his professionalism above all else, Alfred waits until he’s out of the room and halfway to the kitchen before venting an exasperated exhalation of his own.

Of course, Wayne Manor does have excellent acoustics.

Elsewhere along the table’s lengths, Pietro and Damian also keep their stares deadlocked from across each other, never deviating throughout the entirety of their meal. Their detente, however, is more accurately termed an ‘arrogance-off,’ with each refusing to give way before a lesser opponent. If Pietro is remotely bothered that he’s deeply invested in establishing his superiority over a twelve year old, it doesn’t show.

Look, if he starts making allowances for age, where would it end? With him letting toddlers walk all over him simply because they managed not to blink first? Don’t be absurd.

On the other side of Pietro, Jason is gleefully lobbing conversational grenades down the length of the table. Seizing advantage of even the slightest lull, he packs every sparse moment of silence full of yet another philosophical hot take he’s strategically brainstormed to cause maximum conscience carnage. 

Each carelessly uttered but carefully aimed moral dilemma-turned-mortar fire is tactically engineered towards setting each and every highly opinionated diner to warring over the higher ground. There are always holdouts of course, those who instead hunker deeper down in their trenches in an attempt to wait out the bombardment without engaging. Persistence has never been something Jay lacks, however, so even the few duds that fail to properly detonate only end up followed by a rapid-fire encore the first chance he has to reload.

Meanwhile, Lorna downs a glass of wine like its a shot of tequila and she’s a veteran of the collegiate drinking experience. Then again, she actually is, even if most tend to forget that. It doesn’t quite lend the same weight to her resume as actual freaking superhero, you’re welcome for the planet’s continued state of existence does, so she doesn’t tend to lead with it. 

But that doesn’t mean that even this dubiously termed ‘skill’ lacks a time to shine. One does what one has to in order to make it through family gatherings when the family in question is hers, the mistress of magnetism maintains. Be sure to note both lower case m’s in the script of her full title, because sharing a powerset with her father doesn’t mean she actually has to indulge in silly shows of power with the sole purpose of establishing one’s right to self-brand with fully capitalized letters. 

She finds such things exhaustively tedious, as dull as they are droll, and as much as she loves her father, she could really stand to see him embarrass himself less in public, with his ridiculous insistence on those farces.

In his defense, the enemies that flee in terror upon such displays, wetting themselves all the while...well, clearly they’re suitably impressed. But that doesn’t mean Lorna can’t still be embarrassed for him. Honestly, would it really kill him to act his actual age of....

Oh hell. She’s not nearly drunk enough yet to try and make sense of her father’s age. 

Full disclosure, and also full awareness that her brother will never fail to bring up her own recorded instances of ridiculous grandstanding whenever its remotely relevant, and most other opportunities as well - yes, those happened, yes, she agrees they were ridiculous and necessary, but she also requests it be on the record that in all such instances she was either very young, very possessed, or very both.

Probably.

Look, the possessed thing happens often enough its not like even she can keep track of it. If she wants to squeeze a few perks out of that particular trend towards things that are obnoxious and unnecessary for five hundred, Alex, she’s damn well entitled.

And why, in the name of all the gods she hasn’t been teammates with and seen drunkenly stumbling around in their underwear at some point, is she picturing her ex Alex’s face when whimsically thinking of the Jeopardy host? Better question, why is she still not drunk enough to not give a shit if she does?

Ugh, if this leads to her having to admit Betsy was right and she’s begun indulging in her family’s tendency towards being excessive about anything and everything that keeps their minds off boringly pedestrian events like a break-up, well. That would really suck. 

Mostly because Betsy is unbearable when she’s right about anything.

Driven to extreme measures by the fact that her thoughts are being rude and contentious and mean to her, Lorna trades introspection for the potential hazards of engaging directly with her dinner companions. Risky as that may be. They could be more unbearable than Betsy, for all she knows. And bad things tend to happen when she gives strangers the benefit of the doubt. She usually ends up disappointed, or bored.

Also, possessed.

Girding herself with jaded detachment, Lorna resigns herself to the mortifying ordeal of having to know other people - people who when taking into account her sister’s track record with such matters, could easily turn out to be serial killers or even worse, annoying robots. 

Shuddering at the memory of the Pencil Sharpener That Walks Like A Man, she surveys the chaos she’d mistaken for white noise when still busy being her own entertainment. Its slightly livelier than she’d assumed it would be.

Lorna’s never lacked her father’s eye for tactical analysis and strategic scheming, to be clear. Its more that she’s absent his desire to see her molded into any kind of mini-me that could potentially carry on where he leaves off when he dies, as if no interruption has taken place.

But never mind her issues with her father, that she steadfastly refuses to refer to as Daddy issues. Coolly assessing the commotion around her, she decides the only role worth adopting here is that of the official fanner of flames. The only side worth taking is of course the only side ever worth taking: hers, obviously.

She wades in without any warning beyond a green-lipped smile that toes the line between bearing just enough menace to act as a threat, but never so much as to warn people to take sufficient precautions when facing her.

It’s been said that the difference between her and her father is that Magneto causes natural disasters.

Lorna is one.

Wasting no time before establishing herself as an enemy to all and a friend to none, as if she needs any, she sets up shop as a random sequencer with no allegiance or agenda other than making everyone regret insisting on her attendance. 

She deftly diverts Jason’s verbal volleys off their intended course with dry, sardonic wit and she wields sly insinuations like a racket with which she redirects grenades of great ethical weight at whomever strikes her fancy. She is whimsy: watch her do whatever the hell she wants. Object, and catch hellfire.

Rather than take offense at her interference, Jason tips his head to her in appreciation of her craft. Like calls to like, after all. Lorna decides in a burst of decisiveness that she likes this one, at least. 

She tilts her glass to him with a smirk and refills, topping off Kate Kane’s glass as well when the older woman holds hers out with a look that leapfrogs right over seduction and practically all the way to the morning after. She decides then and there that she likes this one as well. Two for two, look at that. And people say she’s anti-social. Distinctly recalling she’d taken a second look at Kate’s legs before sitting down, and adding in those eyelashes....

Well. Lorna’s never seriously considered taking another woman up on one of these looks before, but it wouldn’t wholly be accurate to claim she’s never thought of sending one to say...Ororo or Betsy a time or two herself. 

Or even a little accurate, actually, but that is neither here nor there.

Lorna thinks, though, that if she were to take up this particular woman up on this particular offer on this particular night - there might at some point be explosions. 

This is not a dealbreaker.

Look, she didn’t get her degree in geology because she held any particular interest in literally dull as dirt sandstone. Pyroclastic igneous rock formations, on the other hand...now that’s a different matter entirely. Fire pretty. Batwoman pretty. 

Okay, she might be a little tipsy at this point. She looks at her wine glass accusingly; she shouldn’t have to find these things out on her own. It neither confirms nor denies. 

Bitch.

Still further down the table, Dick's usual charming composure has been knocked out and left tied up in a coat closet somewhere. With the anthropomorphic embodiment of the emotion Frazzled then stepping in to take his place, and not at all very obviously acting out of sorts, if the amused but completely unhelpful smirks of his siblings are anything to go by. 

The Dick-shaped entity seated in his place makes occasional token attempts to direct the flow of conversation like the maestro he’s usually known to be in such settings. In this particular setting and time, however, he mostly just manages to exist as a sentient display of the condition or state of being I Have Regrets. 

His attention flits from one person to the next as he periodically tries to distract everybody from plotting the murders of everyone else at the table. Or covering up the murder of someone else, as committed by one of their family members. Or from plotting to frame someone else at the table for murder. Or from broadcasting that they’d absolutely get to the bottom of any frame job and prove their relative’s innocence and see the real culprit behind bars. 

Also, he may or may not have to every so often stop and distract himself from plotting murders of his own.

Dick lands briefly on Jason every now and again with an “I know what you’re doing and would greatly appreciate it if you’d stop” glare. 

Its met each time by his little brother’s “I have no idea what you’re talking about, this is just how I partake in family gatherings, isn’t that what you want or should I just go home” mask of blatantly transparent faux-innocence. 

Jay’s expressions are practically close captioned, that’s how far he is from even attempting to bother with the whole thing.

Dick returns fire with a narrowing of the eyebrows that screams: “I’ll get you for this, and your little dog too.” 

Jason’s lip only upticks at one corner, his otherwise studied indifference sending back his crystal clear response: “Bitch, I died. What’re you gonna to do, threaten to go a week without trying to ambush me with hugs?” 

Dick’s jaw shifts like a tectonic plate movement, teeth grinding as he holds the glare. “You’re the worst.” 

Jason beams and tilts his head, eyes drifting upwards in silent contemplation, as if to say, “Well, we all aspire to great heights in our own unique ways.” 

“Allow me to congratulate you on your successful achievements then.” Dick’s now puckered expression fires barbs from a blowgun.

“If you really cared, you’d show me with a trophy. What’s a guy gotta do to get his brother to try and buy his love and affection,” said little brother lofts at him by way of an obnoxiously exaggerated batting of his eyelashes.

Next to Dick, Wanda has her elbow on the table, propping up her head in one hand as she lazily pokes at her food with her fork. She’s not even trying to hide how much she regrets every decision that led to this. She likes Dick, quite a lot, but clearly, neither of their families are fit for conjoined festivities. Lesson learned. 

Duke is shoving dinner roll after dinner roll into his mouth, as if afraid to risk missing out on anything by attempting more focus-intensive food handling than that. His eyes are feverishly bright as they dart from one length of the table to the other and back again. This is the best day ever. 

Tim and Cass are seated side by side and occasionally dip their heads together in hushed conversation. At other times they flick their fingers at each other in sign language just below the surface of the table. 

Periodically, Tim will then wade into one conversation or another, never staying focused for long on any one single conversation partner before moving on. 

If one were to view this whole....event...as an exercise in conversational warfare, one might be tempted to view Tim’s patterns of discussion as somewhat akin to guerilla warfare. Brief engagements not aimed at achieving any kind of victory so much as feeling out the oppositions’ defenses and tactics before withdrawing to form more firmed out plans based off the gathered intel. 

Dick closes his eyes and sighs as he sees Tim and Cass dip their heads together again. Right after Cass’ eagle-eyed gaze spent a few moments lingering on the wake of Tim’s latest ‘tactical retreat,’ which was plenty of time for their sister to soak in a fair amount of everyone's reactions and responses.

Dick coughs into his hand. When Tim looks his way and meets Dick’s stern gaze with an inquiring eyebrow, Dick reaches a hand to the side of his head as if to smooth back a lock of hair. Instead he then signs with grimly dancing fingers, “Please tell me you and Cass aren’t using a holiday dinner together as a chance to develop contingency plans for taking down members of my girlfriend’s family.”

Tim cocks his head slightly and frowns. The only indication that his fingers are once again busy at work beneath the table is the slight ripple of movement along his upper arms. A few moments later, Dick’s phone vibrates with a notification. He slides it into his lap and reads Tim’s text.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you just said. I don’t speak ASL.”

Dick tilts his own head and fires an unimpressed look across the table. “Seriously?”

Cassandra pokes Tim in the side, sending him an inquiring look of her own. No doubt curious what he’d texted Dick to elicit such a response. Tim grins and answers her in swift, practiced gestures the little twerp makes no attempt to hide this time. Blatant ASL, just one of the several different sign languages they were all fluent in. Cass raises a hand to her face and hides her giggle behind the back of it, just as Tim finishes. Dick darts his sour face at her, texting her phone in turn.

“Et tu, Cass?”

She glances down at her own phone and then just shrugs at him, utterly unrepentant. Dick pinches the bridge of his nose. Okay then.

Pietro’s daughter Luna had long since retreated to one of the Wayne family dens to watch movies, citing a headache. No one doubted that the precocious young empath was just entirely uninterested in being in the vicinity of all their entangled and extremely loud emotions. 

Her father had briefly attempted to impress upon her the importance of being present with the rest of them for at least some of the dinner. His daughter had simply met his token effort at imparting politeness protocols with a pointed look first at him and then at Damian, who was at most two years older than her. 

Pietro had grimaced. In an ideal world, caving to her demands would not be easier than him just conducting himself like a mature adult for the duration of a single dinner gathering. But then, none of them came from an ideal world, and he suffered no illusions about being an ideal parent. And more importantly, in the grand scheme of things it was hardly like this was one of the really important battles, the ones that needed to be picked carefully. 

That was his excuse and he was sticking to it. And thus Luna had been excused to entertain herself with the Waynes’ vast video library.

Wanda’s twin sons thus far seem content to keep themselves busy with their own back-and-forth in the private ‘twin language’ they’d crafted over the years - more due to cheating than the existence of some preternatural twin understanding of each other. Neither boy pretends to have a clue how the other’s mind works. 

Essentially, Tommy just talks to his brother at full superspeed, while Billy has a spell in place that allows him to keep up and understand his twin no matter what speed his ramblings take. No one seems entirely sure what mechanism they have for Billy to speak back to Tommy in a way no one else ever picks up on, or even if such a mechanism exists at all. It's entirely possible that due to the nature of their dynamic, they’d never found creating one to be at all necessary. 

That isn’t to suggest that Billy is a follower in temperament or by nature. Its more just that when dealing with Tommy, one either follows (or tries to play catch up slash does damage control) or else one waits until Tommy races off to do what he wants, for however long it takes for him to eventually figure out that nobody has followed or is even going to. Then finally racing back and submitting to following someone else’s lead, sulking all the while about how nobody ever listens to him about anything. 

Basically, letting Tommy take the lead in the more low-stakes engagements is just being efficient, in Billy’s opinion. The alternative takes way too long and his twin is a pain to deal with when in a heightened state of Sulk.

However, as to just how low-stakes or not this dinner actually is, well, that seems to be a matter of some debate between the twins, and not something Billy himself has even settled his opinion on. 

Frequent high-pitched squeaks occasionally sound out from their corner of the table, most too quick to even register for anyone other than their uncle Pietro, who currently is still preoccupied with his extended staring contest against his diminutive rival in all things pertaining to ego and attempted sovereignty

If anyone else were even to register their existence or frequency, the combination of squeaks and Tommy’s repeated glares at his brother might lead to the conclusion that Billy is repeatedly poking or jabbing his twin in order to rein Tommy in from leaping into some fray or another and escalating the already existing tension to biblical proportions. As is his wont. 

And Billy, at least, is enjoying his meal.

Well, he’s trying to, anyway.

But the closer he gets to completely clearing his plate, the more frequent Billy’s longing glances in the direction Luna had vanished become. Clearly, the teen is debating the merits of faking some ailment of his own and following his cousin’s example all the way to blessed, blessed relief from the chore of being the only one capable of saying “Tommy no” and actually producing an end result that isn’t just an accelerated timetable.

It’s not hard to tell when Billy’s inner war of his self-preserving tendencies vs his self-sacrificing tendencies is ultimately decided with a final score of Sanity: 1, Pointless and Unappreciated Gestures of Nobility: 0.

The seventeen year old sighs loudly and slumps back against his chair, his entire demeanor broadcasting an aura of “I give up” on so many clear wavelengths, it interrupts every skirmish currently in progress and results in every adult at the table sending concerned looks towards the twins’ corner of it. 

Billy’s crossed arms and the empty space his gaze is determinedly fixed on combine to clearly convey he has nothing to do with whatever has happened or is about to happen. 

Leading to every scrap of attention thus trekking further down the table to his twin, where Tommy is beaming with the brightness of a thousand supergiant stars about to go supernova and make a mess that will span galaxies and last for ten thousand years. 

His Aunt Lorna’s own penchant for pretty explosions and fireworks has nothing on his, other than seniority.

Tommy’s own family knows that gleam in his eyes well enough to be aware their own immediate reactions should be duck and cover. Unfortunately, the Waynes’ dining room affords few actual defensive positions, all of which are already occupied by members of the Family Batshit. Resigning themselves to the inevitable, the Family Maximumoff Damage brace for impact.

Not being familiar with the gleam in Tommy’s eyes themselves, but more than observant (and paranoid) enough to recognize the braced positions of the other family and adapt accordingly, the members of the Family Batshit are all quick to follow suit.

Wanda meanwhile takes the scant seconds before collision to close her eyes and try to recall why she ever wanted children so desperately she literally wished them into existence.

She’s got nothing. 

Dick uses the same time to gulp and take a deep breath, frantically trying to fortify himself with everything he knows of Wanda’s more....mayhem-inclined child. Hopefully he can use that intel to prepare contingencies for whatever fallout may follow in the next few seconds.

Ever the optimist, that one.

Into a silence stretching longer than a speedster in the spotlight has ever before allowed silence to linger - with Tommy clearly savoring the focused attention and abundant awareness of his Impact™ and reputation - the silver-haired teen grins with teeth bright enough to ignite the ensuing firestorm all on their own. The fateful words he finally utters almost seem overkill. At least until he finishes saying them and everything else ceases to matter, because boom.

Ignition.

“Hey Dick, if you end up marrying our mom, does that mean we can call you Dad?”

The silence that follows that particular detonation is akin to the death-knell of the dinosaurs, in the moments immediately after a giant asteroid wiped out 80% of life on the planet.

Then: anarchy.

“How dare you!” Damian launches himself out of his seat with what would normally be described as a hiss, were it not uttered at a decibel closer to being an actual sonic boom.

Jason looks like he can’t decide if he wants to fall to the ground laughing or fall to the ground tucking and rolling. To avoid having to make a decision, he grabs his until now untouched wine and guzzles it like a man who just found the only oasis in a hundred mile wide desert.

Lorna uncorks another bottle of wine and raises the whole thing like she’s toasting existence itself, on her way out the mortal coil’s exit-marked door. Kate thrusts her glass in front of Lorna for another refill. 

“I know many lesbians can and do have kids in any number of ways, but do you think its okay if I cite this as proof we’re the highest evolved life form and if I was meant to have kids of my own, God wouldn’t have given me such an obvious hint as to the opposite?” 

Kate absently muses to Lorna under her breath and out of the corner of her mouth, both of them still fixed on viewing the various diners turned statue-still by the Medusa like turn of the table’s conversations. 

“It feels like that’s one of those things people tell me I should keep in my head and just gets me in trouble when I decide to share it instead, but honestly, I can never tell.”

“You’re asking the wrong person,” Lorna whispers back. “I get possessed by this one psychic ghost enough that one of the few perks is I don’t have to worry about ticking people off anymore. Nowadays if I piss someone off, all I have to do is wait a couple of days and then say I was possessed again at the time. Then I just ask why the hell did nobody notice and dramatically make a lot of noise about that until everybody forgets what the hell they were even ticked at me for in the first place.”

“Ugh. Lucky bitch.” 

Lorna shrugs with the faintest of smirks. “It’s all about just working with what you’ve got.”

Elsewhere at the table, Duke is frozen with his mouth still stuffed so full his cheeks are puffed out like a cartoon chipmunk’s. The only movements coming from his direction at all are the twin orbs that are his eyes, currently imitating tennis balls being rocketed back and forth across the court by pro players who never miss a swing.

Tim and Cass are clutching each others’ forearms, the closest either has come to displaying a panic reaction in literal years. In Cassandra’s case, more like in her entire lifetime.

But the title of ultimate attention draw is for the moment a dubious honor bestowed upon the Wayne patriarch himself. 

Bruce leaps from his seat like an Olympic sprinter off the starting block, managing to catch up to his youngest before Damian plus Damian’s butter knife make it more than a foot towards Tommy. He snatches the twelve year old up by his waist, smoothly disarming his son and spinning around to plant himself between the boy and his target with the practiced and precise moves of the bedlam ballerina that he is.

“Umm,” Dick utters at last. His eyes fly wildly around the room as if seeking permission to land. They settle on making repeated loops of a race track that runs from Tommy’s smile of success to Damian’s enraged expression, and then to his own father’s attempt at a poker face: normally flawless, but now only warranting such acclaim if Bruce’s intention actually was to mimick the poker face of someone steadily ingesting lemons and nothing else throughout the course of a game. 

Its not Dick’s finest work, obviously, but to be fair he’s also quite busy,trying to will himself through the floor. Possibly the Earth’s core while he’s at it. Results are still pending.

Meanwhile, unnoticed by the inhabitants of the dining room, Pietro’s ex Crystal has arrived as previously agreed, so she can pick up Luna and their daughter can spend the back half of the holiday with her mother and the latter’s teammates. 

They were on their way to the dining room so Luna could say her goodbyes to her father, aunts, cousins and grandfather, when the current chaos had erupted.

Her own heroic impulses instinctively compelling her to charge in and attempt to help, Crystal’s tugged back by her daughter’s hand in hers. Knowing full well that Luna’s empathy-fueled instincts are superior to just about anyone else’s, Crystal halts and takes in the scene before them again, still with caution but with slightly less urgency.

“I suppose you have some idea what’s going on in there?”

Luna just smiles softly at her mother, as if shyly amused by the situation they’re witnessing.

“Did you hear how just when we were coming down the hall, Tommy said something about calling Wanda’s boyfriend ‘Dad’ if they get married?”

Crystal furrows her brow and nods; she hadn’t been paying that much attention, but one didn’t engage in superheroics (let alone marry and live with a hyper-active speedster) if one had poor situational awareness. Well one did, theoretically, but in such instances, one usually just died before gaining any kind of reputation or relevance.

“Well see, that set off Damian, Mr. Wayne’s youngest son and Dick’s baby brother - he was the one shouting ‘How dare you’ - “

“Don’t tell me this family has some kind of superiority complex about the twins or Wanda not being good enough for one of their own,” Crystal interrupted. The air around them crisped and heated even as a stray wind arose inside the manor and teased the ends of her hair into furious activity. 

She and Pietro might not be together anymore, but her fondness for him and certain other members of his family hadn’t ceased to exist simply because their marriage no longer did. Wanda had been her friend for years before she and Pietro even began to date, and her twins were still Luna’s cousins. All of which made them still family as far as Crystal was concerned. 

And she’d certainly put up with enough of her own family’s nonsense about nobody being good enough for one of them...more than she should have, to be honest, even if that was still ultimately the reason she’d cut ties with them and made her teammates her and her daughter’s true family. Crystal wasn’t about to stand idly by while strangers subjected her daughter’s cousins and aunt to more of that bullshit, even if they were hugely respected heroes of this universe’s Earth.

But Luna just shakes her head swiftly and decisively, and Crystal forces her metaphorical hackles to subside at her daughter’s apparent lack of concern. 

“No, its nothing like that. Well, Damian’s kind of a brat sometimes, but it feels like he only acts out like that when he doesn’t have instincts about how to react to a given situation and he’s embarrassed about that. He had some kind of messed up childhood none of them like to talk about too much. But honestly, he feels more jealous right now than he does anything else. Aunt Wanda gave us all a rundown before we got here, about Dick’s family and things to not ask them about or bring up, and what kind of stuff they’d been told about us for similar reasons. Anyway, she told us Damian didn’t even live with their family until a few years ago, and when he first came to live with them there was a year when Mr. Wayne was missing and most of them thought he was dead....and so Dick was basically Damian’s first real kinda dad even before Mr. Wayne got a chance to be, and even though he’s been the one raising Damian ever since he got back, it sounded like there’s a lot of mixed feelings and confusion and tension between him, Mr. Wayne and Dick ever since.”

“And of course your cousin just couldn’t resist poking the elephant in the room, once he’d been made aware of its existence, if only to see what would happen,” Crystal sighs. That boy....

Not for the first time when around her ex’s family, she finds herself reminded to be grateful for the relationship she and her daughter share, mostly due to her daughter’s willingness to be understanding of others’ flaws, her own included. Crystal makes sure to will forth a wish for fortitude in Wanda’s direction while she’s at it. Couldn’t hurt.

And of course, speaking of Luna’s ability to be understanding....

“Tommy was just trying to have a little fun, he honestly didn’t mean any harm by it,” her daughter defends the cousin in question. “I know he didn’t really have any idea how much of a reaction he’d get, and just how deep and strongly they had about this. And I know it probably sounds like I’m just trying to make excuses for Tommy to keep him out of trouble, but maybe this is a good thing, that he made this happen? Because I can tell they definitely don’t talk a lot about these things or let them out in the open instead of trying to shove them down all the time. So Damian feels jealous, probably because he still has feelings of seeing Dick as a father that he feels he can’t act on because he doesn’t want to upset their actual dad or cause fights between them.”

"And I can feel Mr. Wayne feels jealous too, but of how Damian feels and the fact that he acted on what was so clearly jealousy to everyone else, but also he’s upset at himself, probably because he thinks its not right for him to feel jealous towards his own son and specifically because he and his brother have such a strong relationship and Dick did such a good job taking care of him when Mr. Wayne couldn’t. And then Dick feels guilty but also a little upset at himself as well, maybe because he knows he has nothing to feel guilty for? I’m not sure about that part, I haven’t totally gotten a feel for their usual emotional dynamics. But also he feels jealous too, and of Mr. Wayne, most likely because he gets to be Damian’s father and on some level Dick wishes that was still him occupying that role.”

“Maybe you should be explaining all of this to them instead of me,” Crystal concludes when her daughter finishes her run-through in a rush of hastily accelerated words. Luna is leaning to the side, as if trying to be subtle about craning to look around her at the drama on the other side. 

“I will if they ask me to,” her daughter says, now sounding somewhat defensive of herself. “I don’t think they would have liked it much if I just tried to talk to them about all their feelings that they refuse to acknowledge or act upon, even just with each other in private.”

“Hmm,” Crystal just hums thoughtfully. Luna rushes to present the rest of her case, though Crystal still lacks a clear picture of just what the specific endgame is that her little schemer simply can’t resist trying to nudge things towards.

“Besides, like I said, maybe this was a good thing, Tommy got it out in the open where now they have to talk about it with each other, since its pretty undeniable to everyone. I mean everyone else in their family definitely feels kinda satisfied I think? No, vindicated. That’s it. I think they’ll be fine on their own. They all definitely love each other and if anything, the jealous feelings are all just from loving each other more than they feel they should or have a right to, because they don’t want to make one of their other family question whether they love them too. None of them have done anything bad or wants anything bad, they just need to talk it through.”

“Well that’s all good to hear, but it still sounds to me like there’s no real reason for us not to interrupt, and every possibility it might defuse some tension and give them all a little time to cool down before talking about things.” Crystal crosses her arms and looks down at Luna knowingly. 

She might be the best daughter Crystal could have ever wished for, and light years more mature than anyone else her age, but she’s still only ten and every ten year old has room for more maturing.

Sure enough, her daughter squirms guiltily. 

“I guess. But I still think its better to let things just happen on their own. You’re always telling me that my power isn’t permission to insert myself into the problems of everyone I meet. And that assuming otherwise can be bad for me too.”

“That’s true,” Crystal nods. All the same, her left eyebrow starts to climb. “However, another truth I’ve heard told to you by your father is if you ever feel guilty and are put on the spot for something, have two truths and a lie ready to explain yourself. And always lead with the lie.”

She loves Pietro still, she does, and she's at times even painfully aware of just how much she always will. But their vastly different ideas about parenting were just one of the reasons they hadn’t been able to make things work. She vividly recalls the time she’s referring to...and the argument she and her husband had immediately following it.

Pietro’s stance had always been that children were just little versions of who they’d grow up to be, and didn’t need to be taught dumbed down versions of the advice no one would a problem giving to the grown up versions of them.

“I see nothing inappropriate in teaching her that,” Pietro had said stubbornly at the time. “I do the same thing all the time and I’ve never attempted to pretend otherwise. In fact, I clearly remember explicitly describing that as my life philosophy on one of our earlier dates, and if I recall correctly, you laughed and called me a charming knave at the time. And I am of course remembering it correctly, as I have perfect recall listed among my numerous attributes.”

They never did reach an understanding about that particular bit of parenting. Probably because that argument had ended up seguing into the make-up sex that had kept them married far longer than they probably should have been.

Not that the latter detail is of any relevance at the moment. She coughs awkwardly.

In the here and now, their daughter continues to fidget beneath her mother’s now imperious gaze and newfound resolution to not allow her semi-fond nostalgia to cause her emotions to waver.

“Fine!” Luna groans at last, throwing up her hands in as explosive manner as the usually contemplative girl ever does anything. “I also don’t want to interrupt or go yet because I still have some of the popcorn Mr. Alfred made me and its really good and also if you had to have dinner with some of the most tense and repressed people on two different Earths, and feel everything they were trying to pretend they didn’t feel, you would want to at least get to enjoy the part where they finally stop doing that and get all dramatic and dumb. Are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Crystal says primly, fighting a smile at her daughter’s rare display of immaturity before remembering who she was talking to and ceasing to bother with the pretense. Besides, its not like she doesn’t have a point.

“But I believe we’ve also talked about people not being your personal entertainment,” she adds. It just feels like the kind of moment where she's supposed to say something along those lines. Even half-heartedly. 

“But is it really my fault if people are being entertaining through no fault of my own, and I just happen to be nearby and have every right to just stay put until being right where I am stops being entertaining?” Her daughter counters.

The glint in her eye and the wry smile that says she knows she’s scented a moment of weakness and has no shame about pouncing on it - those are wholly among Pietro’s contribution to their child, and not anything Crystal can truly fault him for, at the end of the day. He is who he is, and part of that is who their daughter is, just as much as she is part of Crystal. She sighs and relents.

“If one of the Waynes catches us treating their conflict like a reality show and feels the slightest upset about it, it is your responsibility to either justify yourself to them too, or acknowledge responsibility for their upset. Whichever it takes to reverse the negativity you contributed. Understood?”

"Promise,” Luna says, bobbing her head repeatedly as she holds forth her hands, unprompted, to demonstrate that she has no fingers crossed as she did so. A follow up that has been normalized for years, given that crossing fingers behind one’s back is another one of the bits of parental wisdom Pietro had imparted upon their precocious daughter when she was younger.

Crystal just sighs once more and shakes her head fondly as she steps to the side and provides an unobstructed view through the open doorway across the room.

Back in the dining room, heedless of having garnered spectators to their spectacle, as well as equally heedless of the passage of time, the room’s inhabitants exist in a state of suspended animation. 

Everyone knows a reaction to what just happened is required. That the pregnant pause persisting since then demands a clear follow up to the blatant display of certain emotions from certain parties. All of whom are usually quite certain they’d rather witness the end of the world than see those specific feelings slip out into the open where anyone could see them and from that, draw certain conclusions.

Nobody is confused on that front. Not even their guests from an entirely separate universe.

But the unthinkable has happened nevertheless, and as it has been neither preceded nor succeeded by any hint of an apocalypse, there is no alternative. The naked display of previously avoided topics can not in any way be avoided at this point. What was done was done and now things have to be said or done as a result.

The problem lies in the fact that not a single person present has the faintest idea of what those specific things were. And thus no one seems interested in showing any initiative in ending the stalemate that has been forged from the uncommon uncertainty that was their only commonality.

 The rise and fall of chests are the only movements betraying that the tableau they set exists in all three dimensions, rather as a static snapshot someone had taken in commemoration.

And even breathing seems done reluctantly.

If cosmic entities such as Uatu the Watcher were prone to hyperbole, as the only other witnesses to the unprecedented anomaly, they might narrate that for a time it seems as though two of the most powerful and influential families of two different universes are fated to spend the rest of eternity existing in this rare moment. This endless moment where some of the most reckless, impulsive, tactical, analytical, insightful and decisive heroes to ever exist on two separate Earths......are all equally stricken with indecision and uncertainty as to what course of action to take next.

Who could even imagine what kind of consequences that might result in, for two entirely different multiverses? What deviations from intricately plotted grand designs that could cause, what opportunities might be missed, from the most potentially fortunate events that otherwise might stem from these various heroes’ heroics?

How far might the ripple effects of this seemingly innocuous moment in space and time reach? How many worlds might rise and fall, universes live and die, all because this one singular family, this comparatively tiny collection of dissonant souls who regardless of their frequent discord still manage to come together in harmony often enough to chart the course of cosmic events....

These unlikely conductors who at separate times are both the voices of the people, and the music of the spheres themselves? Their choices often doing more to directly affect various celestial bodies than the choices of entire civilizations added up across countless millennia?

Regardless of the degree of potential calamity, that remains a fate both universes will be spared their discovery of. For in this hour of need, where some of the prime movers and shakers of worlds sit motionless whilst hardly daring to breathe, all mutually frozen in their seats, all seemingly powerless to act or speak until someone releases them from this spell that has been cast upon the room and all within it....

Well, unto this unlikely conundrum, there arises an unlikely hero.

Not the hero anyone present deserves, perhaps, but certainly the hero they need.

And so it is that with great daring - and dare we say, even panache - a voice rings out loud and clear. One overflowing with bountiful mirth and a zest and zeal for life. Not to mention one brimming with reckless disregard for any potential consequences, even those not very dissimilar to the kind that have in years past made even the hardiest villains quail in fear...

And all at the same time, all undeniable, all contributing to the sudden spasm that erupts along the fault line that is Bruce Wayne’s entire face - that treacherous, forbidding chasm that exists at the edges of the two tectonic masses that are on one side his disapproval, and on the other side, the muscles that control his expressions...

Into that momentous stillness lands the only response truly appropriate, given the root cause of all of this.

“Awkwaaaaaaard,” Stephanie Brown sings out, half standing out of her chair to stretch across the table in front of Wanda and Duke in order to retrieve the gravy boat. She returns to her seated position and proceeds to slather her mashed potatoes with its contents, blithely paying no attention to the fact that all other faces in the room have swiveled to face her with stunned disbelief. “Seriously, I haven’t felt this uncomfortable since I farted in front of Superman.”

“When did you even get here?” Bruce frowns at her, exasperated enough that Damian is able to use his distraction to slip free of him and slink back to his own seat.

No one else has ever managed to achieve the depths of distraction Stephanie and Stephanie alone can push the usually unflappable Bat to. Or is it heights, and the joys of alliteration might need to be sacrificed upon the altar of accuracy? Whatever.

She pretty much considers it her superpower, though. She's still working out how to weaponize it for use on other targets. Or even better, how to capitalize on it for use when living Whilst Reluctantly Capitalist. Currently, she’s testing market research along the veins of blackmailing Bruce into paying her a monthly allowance in exchange for her keeping her levels of Intentionally Irritating him to below a Level Four on a ten point scale. Its her own custom model in the fashion of the ‘rate the pain with a number from one to ten’ scale, but she’s taken the liberty of specifically tailoring it to Bruce’s condition of Suffering Stephanie the Supreme’s Presence. She's pretty sure she’d ultimately settled on the title: “How much is my chewing gum while I’m supposed to be being sneaky causing you actual physical pain?”

There’s an itty bitty chance she actually picked something totally else on account of how she’d been super drunk at the time and she’s crap at reading her own handwriting so deciphering the notes she’d made while especially inspired were like....seventy percent guesswork.

But close enough, anyway, and also like, shut up and stuff. Wait. But is that really considered blackmail, technically speaking, or is it more like bribery? Not that it really makes a difference, but she does prefer being as precise as possible when listing her crimes slash achievements. It’s like. The principle. Or maybe the aesthetic? Whatever.

Really, though, this is just her and the Big Guy’s thing. Its just what they do. Their dynamo depiction of a duo doing things after their first take on being a Dynamic Duo detonated so disastrously. Yeah, she could never bear to part with her precious alliteration merely for the sake of precision. Its important to have clear priorities after all, and if it for whatever reason that probably will involve fifth dimensional imps, like, some nefarious ne’er-do-well demands she make a choice between alliteration and precision, well, she’s as of right now making an official ruling on which darling she’d kill first. 

Sorry, precision, but you just haven’t done for me lately what alliteration has brought me in joy and also usefulness.

“Wait, my bad,” she realizes suddenly, on account of how everyone is staring at her when all she’s doing currently is stuffing her face like a pro. And as hype as she is on her ability to make anything she does look like a Feat™, she’s pretty sure she doesn’t make it look that good. “What was the question again?”

Bruce faces her fully, arms crossed in an attempt to restore himself and his dominion to some semblance of its usual order, his face schooled back in his usual Mona Lisa smile aka stone cold impassivity. Which nobody here was buying, for the record. Big faker.

“How long have you been here?” Asks Stone Cold Steve Austin, wait no, the Stone Cold Steve Faker. Faker Austin? Ugh, this is gonna bug her.

Also, nobody here is buying his voice as being Forbidding right now so much as just Deeply Embarrassed Because I Had Feelings And They Distracted Me. Honestly, she should start keeping a tally. For what, she’s not sure, but you never know what might come in handy some day. There’s a whole TV show about hoarders to back her up on that supposition. See? Science, suckers.

“I dunno. Since way before dinner even started though. Dude, I’m literally on my thirds.” 

As if making a show of evidence, Steph shovels more meat in her mouth. She’s not entirely sure what they're even having, like it could be veal or lamb or turkey for all she knows - look, she never got around to mastering “How To Solve the Mystery of Mystery Meat” or whatever. She’d been busy learning how to tell the difference in blood spatters, because like, meat may be murder sometimes but murder is always murder and thus takes priority. Soooorry. 

Point is, who knows what the fuck kind of meat it is, but its damn good and just further proof that Alfred is probably secretly God in disguise or maybe just a lower case g kinda one, but whichever, he and his culinary arts are definitely proof she’s too weak to ever walk the Way of the Vegan.

She finishes chewing fully before continuing. Because she’s a proper lady, obvy.

“And way to make with the Rudeness, B. I know I can pull off pretty much any look, but Fly On The Wall is not one of them. How dare you come for my self-esteem like this. I’ll sue you and get all your billions and use them to make a swimming pool of gold coins all Scrooge McDuck style, because its like, the one thing you could never and thus the perfect way to establish my dominance and stuff.”

“Has she seriously been here this whole time?” One of Dick’s girlfriend’s twin kids stage-whispers from the other length of the table. “How did we not notice before? Not exactly flying under the radar there.”

“I’m a goddamn social chameleon, that’s how, Cloud.” Stephanie jabs another meat-laden forkful in his direction for emphasis, on its way to her food hole. Ugh, bliss. “Also, I would be like, a kick-ass spy. But nobody ever gives me the spy jobs because everyone’s always like, you can’t be quiet or still or even serious for longer than five minutes, Stephanie, and I’m always like, umm, just because I choose not to doesn’t mean I can’t, but do they ever listen? Of course not.” 

The kid wrinkles his nose at her. “Why did you call me Cloud?”

“Isn’t that the name of the Final Fantasy guy whose hair you ripped off?”

“Is it? I don’t know, I’ve never played. And maybe he ripped me off, you don’t know,” Not-Cloud says, looking suddenly intrigued, though who knows by which part. 

Stephanie swivels towards Tim for confirmation. He looks back, vaguely irritated. 

“Why does everyone always look at me for stuff like that? I have no idea. When exactly would I have time to be a gamer in the first place? And for the record, back when I had actual hobbies, I used to skateboard.”

“Jeez, sorry, Tony Hawk. I didn’t recogize you cuz I was too busy giving you mad props for that sick wicked half pipe ollie oopsie.” Steph rolls her eyes. Then she cocks her head to scrutinize him more fully and maybe give him a serious answer. She settles for flapping a hand at him vaguely as she says, “And you just have like, a certain Quality about you or whatever. I don’t know what it is.”

“She doesn’t even live here,” Bruce says, almost plaintively. Y’know. If he were someone who does anything plaintively ever.

“She’s our guest,” Cass says, almost primly. Y’know. If she were someone who does anything primly ever. “You’re being rude.”

Steph plasters on her most injured expression, the better to make like Exhibit A when Cass sweeps an arm towards her for demonstration. 

Also though, oh shit, oh shit, look whose internal monologue stumble-stepped into a motif. She’s Emily Dickenson-ing this place up tonight. Finally, someone bringing a little class into the House of Ass. You’re welcome, all the ghosts of Bruce’s equally gloomy ancestors who definitely haunt this place on the regular.

“Yeah, Alfred has always impressed upon us that there are certain protocols for how we’re supposed to treat guests in our home, Bruce,” Tim adds in a tone that was equal parts thoughtful musing and suppressed merriment. 

He slides a smirk down the table to Steph. His own irritation of 7.5 seconds prior has completely evaporated into the ether, because that’s just how they roll. Look at them, making with the maturity like they’re just a couple of motherfucking bosses. She’s seriously so impressed with the both of them on their own behalves.

“If I were a betting man,” Tim continues nonchalantly, “I’d put down money that hanging on to guest privileges is one of the main reasons she turned down that adoption offer we all pretend we don’t know B’s definitely given her at some point.”

“Or maybe that’s just what you tell yourself, being the one whose dating history with Steph makes adopted siblinghood seem weird and icky and stuff,” Duke suggests from further down the table. He smirks, lounging in a way that looks lazy and careless to those uninitiated in the sacred Bat arts of being anal about everything at all times, like literally even when just looking at things. Because B-Man’s secret superpower is how to make anything boring, even things that are literally just using your eyes.

Though in defense of B but also like, the years of their lives they’ve all committed to obsessively training themselves according to his fucking anal doctrines anyway, like a bunch of absolute suckers, there is an upside to all that anal retention. Such as how people who make healthy but boring life choices would look at Duke right now and be like oh shit, that kid’s about two seconds from falling asleep like he’s a cat and that’s a super inconvenient place for him to fall asleep, which everyone knows is basically the same thing as Kitty Nirvana.

But meanwhile, the other teen still clearly shows all the checked boxes that spell out hey this dude could be ready to kick your ass in 2.5 seconds, like just give him a reason punk, he’s ready to go. Or at least, that’s how he registers to those of them with Bat-supersenses that aren’t actually super but really just the end result of lots of boring training exercises that honestly don’t sound anywhere near as cool so just let them have this.

Point is she totally lost track of her point, but then Duke follows up with an accusing pointer finger aimed at Tim, one appropriately dramatic and just like, making her so gosh darn proud of the latest castaway to wash ashore on their weird ass little Island Of Misfit Toys. Kids. They grow up so fast.

“Of course you wanna distract everyone from how you’re a Sister Depriver,” Duke intones, putting some super thematic bass into his boom. That right there, that little something extra...that’s how you make fucking art. Hot damn. “And as a result, poor Cass has to bear the weight of being the only girl in the Wayne clan all by herself. For shame, Timothy.”

“Yeah, Timothy,” Cass echoes smugly. “For shame.”

Tim shoots betrayed eyes at her, but its his own fault for forgetting the Cardinal Rule Of Cass: her allegiances are fickle and prone to shifting in the direction of greatest potential drama. Cass loves drama. Lives for it. Something about how refreshing it is to be able to immerse herself in the movements of people who are actively trying to speak or act in contradiction to what their body really wants to say, instead of just being lying douchebags who necessitate caution when they do anything similar.

The rest of them are split 50/50 as to whether that’s true and heartwrenching, or whether its well-played Cass bullshit aimed at distracting them from what a gossip-loving drama queen she really is.

“Whatever,” Jason says dismissively as he chimes in. He swipes the last few exchanges out of the way like they’re open apps he’s not using at the moment and he’s all uh, you can go now, losers. “The real issue here is that obviously the Old Man has never figured out how to interact with a teenager or young adult he hasn’t adopted or can’t adopt. Middle D over there is proof that even B’s vaunted no meta rule isn’t really a dealbreaker, so betcha the real reason Dickie and Tim’s Titan friends never come over is because their parentals are worried about B trying to snatch them up too. And since B adopts, fosters or otherwise absorbs via osmosis every other kid or teen he comes across, there’s never been a control group for him to practice his non-adoption-intending behavior on other kids. And no practice means no way of being perfect at that, and we all know how not being perfect at something makes B cranky as fuck.”

Duke takes a beat to contort his face into a Rubik’s Cube of half-formed and hastily discarded expressions. Most likely trying to work through whether Middle D counts as a weird-ass endearment for this particular family, or something he’s gonna be endlessly annoyed by if it happens to catch on. Its a process, especially considering it has to be filtered through the Jason to English dictionary first.

Finally he just shrugs in a lazy non-reaction that in Batspeak manages to count as a challenge. Basically a ‘try and guess what I decided if you can, chump.’ 

Jason’s face morphs Terminator style. The later ones, not the Governator model. He ends up displaying a mash-up: the smirk of inevitable victory meets the narrowed eyebrows of intent focus as bestowed upon a worthy foe. 

Then the whole piece makes like an Etch-a-Sketch and is wiped completely away before being replaced with an annoyed jaw clench. 

“Jay’s theory game is strong,” is the route Duke ends up taking though. “And here we thought the reason Bruce always says no about Superboy coming over is to prevent him from being a Brother Defiler. But all along it was just the insidious work of a Brother Depriver, with Superman himself being the culprit who told B hands off, this one’s mine. It all makes sense now! Superboy even fits the standard issue black hair and blue eyed, in store model.”

He tips his head towards the older boy in a gesture of appreciation for Jay’s detective work and connect the dots high score. Jason scowls back. By the standards of the Family Batshit, he’s clearly been caught off guard. With him so readily taking up the implied but not outright stated challenge teased by the younger boy, he’d completely failed to prepare for the compliments Duke then followed up with instead.

His siblings hide snickers behind faked coughs and gratuitous napkin usage. He’s netted himself an undeniable loss, according to the intricate rules and traditions of their family - ironically, many of which had been laid down by Jason himself when first established back in the misty years of yore. That mysterious, little spoken of era of legend and mystery, one that is nevertheless oft whispered of in hushed rumors and hearsay. The time before time, better known to the Bats and Birds as The Age of The First Two Robins.

If it had just been the family present, it might have been a different matter, but the presence of others changed things. Cuz see, in the eyes of anyone who isn’t a member of their observation obsessed and perpetually paranoid family, the relatively minute exchange between the two boys no doubt looked like Jason had been needlessly aggressive while the younger boy was just trying to pay him a compliment.

In a nutshell, Duke goaded Jason with what seemed like a challenge but didn’t technically count, so Jason’s attempt at responding to Duke’s not-challenge actually counted as the first actual sign of aggression, which Duke neatly side-stepped by already being in the process of paying Jay a compliment between the time Jay actually launched his challenge but before it actually landed.

Ergo, Duke wins. 

Look, if its hard to follow, that’s probably for the best. They’re all pretty sure stuff like that isn’t supposed to make as much sense as it does to them.

Jason huffs but then finally heaves a sigh and tosses a tight-lipped and grudging but genuine nod of acknowledgment down the table to Duke. Despite himself, he can’t help but be a little impressed by the kid, having already picked up on even the more minute ins and outs of their family’s complicated interactions. But then, of course the younger boy is as precocious as the rest of them. Their family could single-handedly keep the nature vs nurture debate going for centuries.

Duke beams back before licking the tip of a finger and painting a single stroke in the air in front of him. A clear declaration that this round of the Batkids’ never-ending game goes to him. Jason rolls his eyes but can’t exactly begrudge him his endzone dance. Its not like he’s known for being graceful and gracious in victory either.

Come to think of it, none of them are. Huh. That explains a lot, probably.

Its at this moment that Dick finally regains enough composure to make his presence felt again. 

Its understandable, really, the others acknowledge via conspiratorial looks of sibling solidarity that bounce their way rapidly across the table by way of their patented younger sibling network.

Anyone would have trouble juggling the combined stressors of introducing the girlfriend’s family, mediating their own eternal family mayhem, and on top of all that, seeing shoved into the spotlight his ‘shh, we don’t talk about that, what are you, new,” tendencies towards acting parentally protective and possessive of Damian, even with (and at times especially with) Bruce himself. 

Not to mention the occasional clashes over the parenting strategy, or lack thereof, that Bruce still manages at times to bumble like the perfect dope that he is. Because if anyone has super strong feelings about Bruce’s parenting and no patience whatsoever for watching their father repeatedly fail to learn from his mistakes, well. That’s all Dick’s territory.

So with all of that kept firmly in mind like the efficient little multi-taskers they all know how to be (when they feel like it), they’re all poised to lend Dick a certain amount of leeway in how much amusement they enjoy at his expense today.

In all fairness to them, its not like he makes it easy. They had perhaps overestimated just how well Dick was juggling the various stressors in play today. After all, you can take the acrobat out of the circus, but that doesn’t mean jack shit about whether or not he can juggle because that’s an entirely different skillset, duh.

Hindsight’s not just sometimes a bitch. Its sometimes quite bitchy as well. Ugh, their subconscious minds could be such brats, honestly.

Look, the point is, even as they all patiently watch their eldest brother struggle his way back to a state of coherency and and managing to be present in the actual present, they’re still expecting him to pop out the other side with something at least approaching poise.

Instead, they get an encore.

“Umm,” Dick utters at last. 

Tim buries his face in his hands. Duke tilts his head back and mutters prayers to some higher power. Cass closes her eyes and shakes her head slowly and sorrowfully. Lorna reaches across the table with her wine bottle and refreshes her sister’s glass. Wanda looks like she needs it.

Damian sits with arms crossed over his chest and scowl firmly directed at the table top, Judging Everything. Then again, that is still his default setting and pretty much what he’s been doing all night anyway. Say whatever else you want to about the kid, Steph reflects, but when he commits to a theme, hoo boy. 

Jason, meanwhile, has thrown himself bodily at his brother, clamping a hand over the older man’s mouth and stage-whispering with exaggerated emphasis: “Careful! You could set off the exact same chain of events and we’ll all end up trapped in an eternal time loop we can never break free of! I mean, its practically a guarantee, if you combine my knack for being in the worst place at the worst possible time, Tim’s shitty spleen-phobic luck, Cass’ destined to someday prove ironically prophetic name, and your own lightning rod-esque ability to attract cosmic-level catastrophes to you like you’re catnip and they’re really just a cute little furball named Fluffy McWhiskerson.”

“Must you always insist on going the extra mile when being ridiculous, Todd?” Damian cuts in testily. Also, cuttingly. 

“Shut the fuck up. It’s my coping mechanism for being part of a family that goes that extra ridiculous mile every damn day.” 

“And people wonder what possible reasons I could have for not wanting to be adopted into this family and instead hanging onto a golden parachute option?” 

Steph wonders aloud (and loudly) as she maneuvers the side of her fork around her plate like its a zamboni hard at work on an ice rink. Really, she just refuses to let a single scrape of Alfred’s home-made mashed potatoes go to waste. She’s not some heathen.

“You. You seem pretty smart.” That loaded statement and the finger pointed in her direction come courtesy of the Final Fantasy kid whose name may or may not be Cloud but probably isn’t, which is a shame, because Cloud is a pretty kick-ass name in Steph’s estimation. Not that anyone asks. Typical.

Also, where did they end up landing on the subject of what his name should be? Or is? Whatever? Was there a flowchart passed out at some point and she just missed it while busy being fabulous, or was this an actual oversight on B’s part and thus something they should all bring up as often as possible from now until the end of time?

No doubt spurred by a desire to be absent from whatever follows his twin’s newest train of thought, Billy raises his hand half-heartedly. No one bothers to point out the absurdity of raising his hand like he’s in school. He just seems like its a thing with him. He has that certain Quality, Steph decides.

“Can I be excused?”

Nobody seems sure who he’s asking, so its probably okay that nobody responds to grant permission. Besides, suffering through the awkwardness and drama like the rest of them is probably like, good for building character or something.

After about half a minute, Billy nods to himself as if that’s about what he’d expected. He lowers his hand again and uses it to prop up his head as he slumps over the table and idly sketches patterns atop the antique oak surface.

“I’m a galaxy-brain level intellect, you little Silver Whatever-the-Adorable-Baby version of a Fox is called,” Steph declares at last, jabbing her finger right back at the apparent Greater of Twin Evils. Y’know. To see how much he likes it. But also just because its fun to make like a drama queen in a place like Wayne Manor. Ambiance really is everything. “I even took my SATs and correctly informed the moderator that I was in fact there for the SATs and hadn’t gotten them mixed up with my ACTs.” 

“Hmm,” the twerp says then, not at all appearing to be taught a lesson by her dramatic finger pointing reversal. He sweeps his eyes over her, assessing. Given that she hasn’t decided yet if she even likes the little twerp, let alone what he’s trying to assess and also if she even gives a shit on account of she might not even like the little twerp, Stephanie splits the difference and settles for combining bitch face with her best “How you like me now,” pose. Let him make of it what he will. ‘Snot like she knows what she’s going for there.

Also, its probably rendered slightly less effective due to her forgetting to factor in that she’s sitting and not standing, but whatever, she commits like a champ. Also, she’s still at most 60/40 on the liking of the twerp, so who even cares, honestly.

“I used to be able to count on my own smarts,” Platinum Punk says, seemingly settled on an opinion at last. “But I naively gambled that away in the name of wishing upon a star for family or what the frick ever, and I forgot to set wish parameters for ‘and also please let them all not be completely nuts.’”

“Watch the ableism please, sweetheart,” Wanda says with a long-suffering sigh.

“Sorry, Mom,” he says with an eye roll that nevertheless seems to somehow satisfy her. “But see? I’ll get a lecture about my language, but I skip school with my friends to fight giant robots in Times Square and she doesn’t bat an eye. My family’s priorities are not like your Earth’s priorities.”

“Or my Earth’s priorities,” he adds as an afterthought. “Or any Earth’s, probably. Maybe not some really weird and out there Earth, but they don’t count, probably.”

“Well I don’t like it, certainly, but I don’t want to be a hypocrite,” Wanda says defensively. “When I was your age, I was on the FBI’s Most Wanted list for being a mutant terrorist. All things considered, I have relatively few objections about how you and your brother spend your time.” 

Several members of the Family Batshit direct eyes that are ever so slightly on the wide side. She meets them with an unapologetic shrug.

“I had a complicated childhood. I got over it.”

Lorna snorts into her wineglass. Wanda shoots her sister an annoyed glare, but still amends her statement.

“Mostly, anyway.”

Lorna smirks and waves her glass in some attempt at a meaningful gesture. Who knows what its actually meant to be. She seems to accept the amendment, at least.

“Please excuse our dear little sis her porcine displays of condescension,” Pietro interjects in silky smooth tones that do nothing to hide the sharp edges thinly veiled underneath. “She didn’t grow up with us and our dear, doting daddy, yet has never lacked for opinions on what superior choices she would have made in our positions. The fact that she’s still made plenty terrible choices of her own, is apparently quite irrelevant.”

His green-haired sister opens her eyes artfully wide and projects feigned innocence. “None of those were my fault. I was possessed a lot by a very evil psychic. Who, if you recall, actually called herself Malice. The evil was right there in her name. Advertised. I was innocent. She was evil.”

Pietro swirls his own wineglass, unimpressed. The other set of siblings have clearly been down this road a time or two themselves. 

“I was primarily referring to your romantic history with a Summers. And not even the competent or aesthetically pleasing one, at that,” he drawls.

“She also had terrible taste.”

“Anyway, not to tear focus away from discussion of my dear auntie’s romantic selection process, as she and Uncle Pietro both lack the shame gene and they absolutely can and will traumatize all present via a thorough analysis of each other’s past partners in the most bizarre game of sexual chicken you will ever have the misfortune to witness...”

“Bold of him to make that claim when he’s never seen Dick and Jason do the exact same thing for the exact same reasons,” Tim mutters. Cass and Duke both nod. Jason glares, but seems stuck at the ‘come up with actual proof that he’s actually wrong’ stage of the rebuttal process. Dick has by now returned to the land of the living, but seems to have along the way decided discretion is the better part of valor as best guess is he’s currently preoccupied weighing the pros and cons of potential escape routes.

“Hey, Shiny Pokemon version of Sonic the Hedgehog,” Stephanie snaps her fingers and hopskips the focus back on the speedster in question. She waves her hand at the rest of the sound and fury occupying the table with them, as if to express just how much it all signifies nothing. “Just get to the point already and leave out anything else that these vile miscreants could possibly hijack and turn into tangents. You’ll never make it through a conversation in this house otherwise. Everyone here is expertly trained and practiced in the art of derailing the most obstinate and tunnel-visioned man in history from reaching his point whenever that point is deemed destined to make our day end poorly.”

“Some of us just happen to be better at that than others,” Jason says with smug confidence, twirling his butter knife lazily.

“Ironic, coming from the one trick pony,” Tim says dryly. Jason leans forward and raises his knife-wielding hand and Tim quickly raises his hands in a defensive gesture that’s clearly not meant to indicate he sees an actual threat, more just aimed at beating his brother to the punch with the rest of his punchline. “Sorry, I miscounted. I mean the one and a half trick pony.”

Steph clears her throat pointedly and looks back at Platinum Ken Doll. He just sighs in full gloom and slumps down in eerie symmetry with his twin. He definitely is the superior practitioner of the Sulk.

“Never mind,” he says melodramatically. “It wasn’t even a big deal anyway, just stuff I was trying to be like, snarky about or whatever, but the moment’s passed and it’s just kinda dumb and pointless without feeling like, natural or whatever.”

“Probably,” Stephanie agrees unsympathetically, because hey, when you’re right, you’re right. She doesn’t believe in coddling the youths, especially not the ones who are realistically only two years younger than herself at the most. “But you’ve managed to pique my interest enough that not knowing what you were going to say is randomly gonna bug me at 2 am or something obnoxious like that. Also, you started to praise my intellect and I don’t let things like that go unfinished. It sets a bad precedent. Now c’mon. Speak up. Praise me. Enunciate, so Damian can’t pretend he doesn’t hear you just because he’s trying to set the table on fire with just the searing intensity of his disdain.”

Damian responds with a gesture that he definitely didn’t learn from Dick, but on second thought, he probably did.

“That’s the spirit,” she said. “Keep on keeping on, slugger. If anyone can develop the ability to cause spontaneous combustion with nothing but willpower and spite, its Angst in the key of D Minor himself. I believe in you, kiddo!”

If she weren’t actually being full of shit about that, she might be in trouble from the glare Damian follows that with. Ashes to ashes and all that good stuff. But as rage-vision still refuses to make an appearance, the baby of the family in age and irony only retreats to the support of his high-backed chair. 

Looking more adorable than he’d hopefully ever comprehend, lest he attempt to weaponize that as an addition to his armory, he slouches down and mutters something that makes Jason’s eyebrows climb his skull like they’re trying to set a speed record for making it all the way to the top.

It’d been in one of the languages that Damian knew and that her own circle of languages learned share no overlap with, but she mentally repeats it sound for sound in her head until she locks it in. Anything that can make Jason look that impressed is worth knowing, and translating something phonetically from an unknown language is nothing Google can’t handle.

And by Google she meant Tim, but that’s what ex-boyfriends are for, right? She’s fairly certain she saw that on a T-shirt somewhere, which is basically the same thing as true.

Anyway. Back to the praises that are supposed to be being sung, and yet weirdly, she still hears no singing. Steph boomerangs her focus back down the table to Smugness in Silver, and oozes impatience and expectations out her pores at him like emotions are contagious and she’s a cooties hotspot.

Fumbling from a clear unease with this particular kind of spotlight, and also how it’d admittedly been a weird fucking night for everyone concerned, the younger teen at last manages to self-consciously eke out: “Look, I said it was dumb now. I seriously was just gonna make a joke about you being too smart to get sucked into a weird ass family with endless drama without having an escape clause, and I was just gonna be like, teach me your ways or y’know. Whatever.”

“Wait!” Stephanie stops him right there with a palm outstretched in the universal sign for hold the fucking fuck the fuck up. She leans towards him, and in a voice pitched low and even but vibrating with barely leashed intensity, she asks him the only question that could possibly matter now:

“Was that last bit actually part of the joke you were going to make? The thing you were trying to say from the get go, not just something you said right now because you got confidence diarrhea and stopped using the words good?”

“Uh, yeah?” He says warily.

Stephanie slaps both her hands on the table’s surface, loudly enough to make most everyone jump a little in their seats, and forcefully enough to rattle some dishware and make her inner monologue hiss oww and yell at her for unnecessary roughness. She ignores herself, on account of having much more important things to deal with. 

Launching herself to her feet, she leans into her palms where they press down on the table, giving herself a little bit of Loom to go with the gravity she forces onto her face. Glee is waging a valiant effort at retaking the lost ground, but she’s always insisted that she has excellent self-control, dagnabbit, and Stephanie Brown is many, many things, but she’s no liar.

Well, except for the times she is. But there are always reasons or like, extenuating circumstances for those.

Usually.

“I accept the honor and responsibility of being your Family Drama Sensei, and I shall teach you everything I know and also some stuff I make up just to fuck with you, because I’m not like Other Mentors. I demand and expect some giggles to go with the shits, or what’s even the point, y’know? First lesson: that was rhetorical! I say y’know a lot and when I actually expect an answer I’ll also be like omg hurry up, I aged 84 years waiting for you to say something already. Got it?”

The Twin That Could Have Probably Starred In Twilight blinks dazedly at her. He then turns to look at the rest of the table.

“Is she serious?”

“Deadly,” Steph intones, before one of these naysayers could nay on her say and potentially undercut her authority with her new minion. Uh, she means, like, henchkid. Sorry, sidekick. Shit. Crap - protege! That was what she has, a protege! Hah!

“For real?” He asks, doubtfully. She frowns. Is she stuttering?

“So real I make reality look fake,” she assures him gravely. He blinks some more. He does that a lot, she notes, like a Good Mentor who notices stuff about her mentee.

“Okay, see, because that wasn’t really what I was going for?” He says cautiously. 

She rolls her eyes. C’mon kid, she doesn’t bite, except for like, sexy stuff and eww no, he’s like twelve. Well sixteen probably, but that’s basically the same thing as twelve. Also they had a lot of work to do on the spine-having thing because this sorta bit right here is totally gonna make her look bad in front of all the other mentors, if it doesn’t exit stage right, like post haste. And what not.

She doesn’t say any of that that out loud though. She’s not sure they’re there yet.

“Like, I was aiming more for just....a...I don’t know, a hah-hah?” 

He leans back slightly, adding a little distance as he looks at her like she’s part of the craziness he needs help surviving instead of his sensei in all things suited to surviving the craziness. Ugh, she has so much work to do with this one. Its a good thing she’s always been pretty sure she’d make an excellent mentor, so like, qualifications. She has them. Obvy.

“La la la, I can’t hear you but also no take-backsies. You’re part of a legacy now. Or lineage. Or whatever the word is that’s not actually about dog family trees. Look, the point is by virtue of being my first ever protege and also the first protege of anyone who isn’t Dick or Babs who both don’t even count anyway because Reasons, you are now part of the grand tradition that is being a Bats and Birds person...partner...sidekick...thingie. Look, we don’t have the terminology all worked out yet. Like I said this is basically new territory except for Dick and Babs who don’t count and also Bruce, but he mostly communicates via grunts and scowls anyway, rendering most terminology moot.”

“What’s happening right now?” Her protege asks to no one in particular. Ugh. Unacceptable. She’s taking twenty points from House Twilight whenever she finishes reading those damn books and figures out just how that whole thing works.

“Okay, so the big takeaway from your first lesson here, because fuck that being cryptic noise, mentors who are always like ‘you have to figure out what you’re supposed to be learning here and then also learn it’ like, ugh, no. The worst, seriously.” 

Look, occasionally detours are probably inevitable, but the important part is that she remain strong when doggy-paddling determinedly towards her point, because good mentors can handle occasional detours and don’t treat them like Kryptonite that’s gonna kill them all when they’re literally just sparring in the Cave, like, perspective, have some, y’know? 

And also they don’t need to stop every couple hours into training so they can have temper tantrums because their kids are like, no dad, we can’t hang out today because that’s a thing that kinda happens when little kid people turn into bigger people people, like oh noes, gasp, horror. And then they have to go stomp around and make that everyone else’s problem because no matter how much they insist they’re loners, they actually really suck at being alone. Even though you’d think that mastering that particular skill would logically come first before you get around to training to say shit like “I am the Night, my dude,” with a straight face.

Its faintly occurring to her that she might actually have unresolved issues about Bruce and her brief apprentice-ship thingie with him. And also maybe its not super awesome conclusion and also the follow-up to all that bit of bother, all of which gargled a fair amount of donkey balls.

Ugh. Epiphanies are such losers. Literally who asked.

“Ahem. Anyway. Big takeaway. Teachable moment. Right. So yeah, first big thing is commitment. You start something, you see it through, got it? In this family and otherwise vaguely affiliated network of mentors and mentees, we don’t do take-backsies, okay? Its a matter of pride. Principle. Also, maybe brain damage. Like I said, this all really started with Dick, and he does get hit and shot in the head a whole lot, so admittedly, the rest of us do have some. Y’know. Questions. Now you sit there and absorb all that for a second. Like a sponge. See yourself as a sponge. Be the sponge. Good sponge.” 

Wisdom having been successfully imparted, Steph nods in satisfaction and then spins to take in the rest of the room, hands planted on her hips Wonder Woman style, because power poses are totally gonna be lesson two.

Her eyes find their way to Bruce easily enough, which makes sense seeing as how his scowl takes up half the room. Any room. Okay, at this point she's willing to jot that whole might have issues thing down as okay so maybe she definitely has unresolved issues with Bruce. So what? She also has a protege, albeit one who probably does need some more convincing to fully be on board, but the point remains that like. Whatever. Suck her entire ass.

“Well,” she declares loftily, as if she’s not just talking directly to the B-Man. Plausible deniability, yo. Just because she’s willing to admit to herself that she maybe definitely has issues to still sort through, that doesn’t mean she has to like. Go around admitting that to other people. She’s not some kind of heathen. “I trust that we’ll all remember where we were when it was undeniably revealed that I, Stephanie Brown, do in fact have Wisdom and Experiences to share with the youths of tomorrow. As that is a thing that just happened. Lo!”

“I have witnesses,” Steph declares with the dial set all the way to Peak Drama, because look, if you can’t lean into the drama in Wayne Freaking Manor, life is empty and meaningless and that’s gonna be her supervillain origin story, probably. She throws out an arm towards the rest of the table, encompassing the dual rows of expressions that could best be described as bemused - if she were being generous and also lying out her freaking ass.

Still, she stands firm in the silence that follows her ringing proclamation, allowing not the slightest hint of self-consciousness slip free of her self control, because she’d literally just made a big deal about how it was all about committing, and Stephanie Brown might be many things, but a hypocrite is not one of them.

Well, other than - nope. Not doing that again. Upon reflection and careful examination of what really matters, accuracy also can be invited to suck the proverbial it.

Besides, there’s too much at stake for her to allow any weakness to betray her now. This is a momentous moment. Clash of the Stubbornness kinda stuff. She’s facing down Punky Brucester himself, and on his own turf of all places. Things like principles....and...and being right, all hang in the balance.

And yes, Stephanie is well aware that she has left even Peak Drama in the dust aeons ago, and they’re deep in uncharted waters now, with like, here there be dragons, lurking dramatically. So what if she’s being ridiculous? She maintains that he had started it, she’s like 99% she is being not at all irrational and unreasonable about that, and by God, she will have her vindication or she will have....whatever the tail end of that cliche goes like. Unless its death, because she kinda sorta already did that, and as far as she’s concerned it counted, and either way, she’s way over it and not looking for reruns.

All the while, Bruce stares her down with his face doing that resting I’m Judging You Face thing that nobody can be that oblivious to walking around with all the time, no matter what they may claim in liar-esque fashion. 

Though, for all her various unresolved issues with him or whatever, she can admit to herself that the man is a goddamn master of conveying a bitch could care less. She’d sat on gargoyles that had served more face than Mr. I Could Be Listening To You Right Now or I Could Actually Be Thinking Boring Rich Asshole Stuff Like Whats Up With the Stock Market Today, LOL You’ll Never Know.

She upgrades her ‘Think About Issues’ notification to a maybe consider talking to someone about some of this stuff level.

When Bruce’s carefully placid facade finally breaks, then, it doesn’t break so much as it freaking shatters. Further evidence of this definitely being her superpower, which means time to move on to asking like, ugh why such an obnoxiously specific superpower, tho.

“She doesn’t even live here!” Bruce thunders again. Or some synonym that still means loud and forceful but also being desperate and totes whining. The Big Guy turns to face his children imploringly. He throws an arm in Steph’s direction for accusatory emphasis. Y’know. All dramatic like.

Oh shit. Maybe she did pick up some things from him after all.

Ugh. Okay, never mind, its definitely epiphanies that are gonna be her supervillain origin story. Seriously.

Fuck those guys.

[allthoserandomthings]

Q&A

“I hate your job.” you said to your friend before continuing, “How are you supposed to write a halfway decent article about the movie when all these people are only asking about workout routine or diet or muscles.”

The D23 Convention was at full blast and one of the more popular events that the fans are flooding to is the Marvel stars’ Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie, and Sebastian Stan’s panel. You were accompanying your childhood friend, Mike, in his assignment.

“This is a public Q&A so we can’t do anything about them, Y/N. I have a 15-minute interview with them later so I can still get something worthwhile for my article. Besides, I work for a men’s magazine, they dig this stuff.”

You continue to listen to the endless stream of nonsensical questions and your displeasure might have shown on your face because Mackie called you out.

“Hey, there Princess Megara. We’re the ones getting all these slambook questions, why are you the one looking frazzled. Come on up, ask us something nice, will you?” he raised his eyebrows comically while the rest of the hall including the stars on either side of him burst out in laughter.

Thinking how much fun lining up at the Space mountain would be compared to this panel, you went to the nearest microphone, tugging at your Megara ponytail all the while.

“Hi” you started, smiling. “Unfortunately, I ran out of questions about muscles and workout so I’ll have to settle by asking…Would you say that the narrative of Civil War was written in such a way that the viewers would be more sympathetic to your choices, Chris, since you are the titular character or it was more of an equal footing between the two opposing sides?”

“Thank you, sweetheart, for not failing me. Let me have Hercules over here answer your question. Come on, man, show Megara some of that super-soldier serum.” the hall laughed again.

Chris laughed before answering, “Thank you for that excellent question. Um, I would say, that the best part about this movie is that with how it was written, people would be able to identify with one of us because of their past experiences. Emotions play a huge role in this movie, not just of the characters but of the viewers as well. You could go into the movie expecting to support Team Cap but seeing the decisions of Stark as the movie plays out could sway you to shift and vice versa. But…you still gotta support Team Cap!” he smiled and winked at you causing your heart to skip a beat.

“Thank you,” you muttered softly into the mic and went back to your seat.

The host wrapped up the event and you accompany your friend to the assigned room for the interviews.

“Mike, why do you look like that?” you asked. Your friend was pale and covered in cold sweat. It was starting to worry you.

“Um, I kind of had a bad stomach bug. That’s why I’ve been going out frequently during the panel.”

Well, that sounded bad. His turn was next and you doubt that the organizer would allow pushing back his schedule.

“Please, you have to do this for me. It could cost me my job if I lose this interview.” he pleaded while clutching his stomach.

“Go.” you sighed. he handed you his notebook filled with questions and ran towards the bathroom.

You looked at his cameraman and asked, “Is this okay? Won’t he get in trouble?”

“He’ll get into more trouble if we don’t get this interview. It’s too late to get somebody else as a replacement.”

The organizer asked you to go inside and fix your things. So you and Harry, the cameraman, went in. You opened the notebook to look at the questions and immediately gasped.

“Harry, what the fuck are these questions? I can’t ask these.”

“Yo! It’s Princess Megara.”

You turned your head towards the entrance and Chris, Mackie and Sebastian entered seating at their assigned chairs.

“We’re rolling.” Harry said from his corner, motioning with his hand for you to start.”

“Um, I’m Y/N sitting in for Mike Finkley.  Smooth Men’s Magazine.”

“Wait…wait…wait. Hold up! You work for a men’s magazine?” Chris asked incredulously, his coffee held suspended in his left hand.

“Well, no. My friend does but he’s sick and I’m covering for him as of five minutes ago.” You looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Well, this is interesting,” Seb smirked.

“I know this magazine. I had an interview with them last month that made me blush and that never happens.” Mackie told Chris.

By this time, your entire face is burning with embarrassment and you closed the notebook in front of you. There was no way you’re asking those.

“Why are you closing your notes? We’ll play nice and answer them for you.” Chris said sympathetically while Mackie and Seb were elbowing each other.

“I don’t think you want to hear them,” you countered.

“So, to get things started, what are some of the changes your characters went through from the last movie to this one?”

They took turns answering your questions. As Chris said earlier, all of them were nice and answered without much prodding.

With some minutes left in your schedule and nothing left to ask, Chris again noticed your notebook.

“Maybe you should ask some of those questions now?”

Before you could even reply, he leaned forward and snatched the notebook from your lap. He opened it and his two co-stars leaned in over to read the questions.

“Oh..I like this one. What do you think makes women thirst after superheroes? Is it the suit? Is it the superpowers? I don’t know about you but my Falcon outfit is very sexy, chicks dig that.”

“Maybe they like my brooding nature as Winter Soldier. Smoldering eyes and a mysterious mask. That’s hot apparently.”

You just swallowed your embarrassment and looked at Chris waiting for his answer.

“Hm, for Cap, I think his very rigid nature attracts girls. He’s one to take relationships seriously.”

Mackie continued to read the questions, “ Will wearing a superhero outfit in the bedroom excite the girls. Ooohh.”

“Only if the girl likes it, bro, don’t make it too weird. Keep it simple, you know.” he finished looking straight at the camera. You just hope the camera wasn’t focused on you considering how red you are.

“Which superhero would perform excellently in the bedroom? DC or Marvel?”

“I mean we got the Falcon right here.  What do we need them DC guys for?” said Mackie.

“Trust me the winter soldier is not frigid. He’s smokin’ hot when he wants to… ‘ya know.”

Chris started grabbing his chest and laughing. He took a couple of seconds to compose himself before looking at you in the eyes.

“Captain America would outperform anyone, including you two,” he elbowed both guys, “Remember, I can do it all day.” He winked at you again and smiled.

You were saved from fainting by a knock on the door, “Time’s up. Next room please.” said the organizer.

You thanked the three of them profusely choosing not to make eye contact with Chris. That guy is making you feel all sorts of impure emotions.

“Thanks, Y/N, see you around,” Chris said before exiting the room.

You bid a quick farewell to Harry and sent a quick text to Mike that you are going straight to Disneyland. Maybe a quick tour of the Haunted Mansion will stop you from thinking some steamy scenes with Chris Evans.

You went straight to Disneyland eating some Churros alone while lined up. A staff approached you and asked, “Ms. Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Yes?” you swallowed the last bite of your churro.

“Please follow me.” she looked official enough so you followed her to the VIP entrance.

“Wait, miss, I don’t understand…I don’t have…” you started to say but your words drifted off as you saw who was standing behind her.

“Hey, mind if I join you? I have extra VIP passes?” Chris said.

“What about the interview?”

“I only had one after yours and it was over quickly. I’m here to enjoy the rides now.” He brought out a Minnie Mouse cap and plopped it on top of your head. You fixed it so that your Megara-style ponytail won’t be ruined.

“Well sure. I was lined up at the Haunted Mansion. If you want, that is.” He took your hand and followed the woman that led you to him.

“Oh, by the way, I still have your friend’s notebook.” He said giving you the notebook opened to the page with the questions.

Upon closer look, you see that every single one of them had been answered.

‘Lights on or off?’ On.

‘Top or Bottom?’ Bottom has a better view.

‘Boobs or Butt?’ Apparently, I’m an ass man.

The entire page had answers from him.

The very last question goes ‘For Chris, you apparently like Disney a whole lot. Which Disney princess will you take to bed?’ Megara.

That one made you blush even more and you closed the notebook abruptly.

“Not until after a  few dates, Y/N or should I say Princess Megara?”

[broqueroi]

Unsolicited Stucky FicRec

These are the fics that had absolutely wrecked my soul. Possibly will never dig my out of this hole that sucked me in years ago and no regret or whatsoever. This list will be updated as time goes by. 

Building From the Ground Up Series by EmilianaDarling 

E | Completed | 68,687 words

“What about you, Barnes?” asks Dugan. The sound of his voice brings Bucky back to the present, dredges him out of memories of a beat-up little apartment with sunlight streaming in through the windows. “Got yourself a girl waiting for you back home?”

There’s an answer on the tip of his tongue, one that he’ll deliver with a cocky grin and a half-laugh and a little shake of his head. But Bucky is exhausted and hungry and so sore it hurts to move, and one of the guys in their platoon fucking died yesterday. His mouth tastes like iodine water and his feet hurt and none of it’s going to get better any time soon, and all at once Bucky misses Steve so badly he can barely see straight.

“Yeah,” Bucky declares abruptly, the word escaping from his mouth before he fully realizes what he’s saying. “Yeah, I do.”

The One Where (Somehow) the Team is Oblivious by Darksknight

E | Completed | 16,495 words

Wanda had kissed her brother on his cheek after being separated from him for a short time- she understands a need for closeness after being lonely. But Wanda never slept on top of her brother, so seeing Bucky on top of Steve... is a little odd. (Steve and Bucky act a lot closer than friends usually do. There's a reason for that.)

Vicissitude by Messiah

E | Wip | 48,085 words

If Steve were a balloon, seeing Bucky wear the familiar star-spangled uniform was the needle that sent him deflating across the room. He couldn’t explain the ache in his chest or the ice in his stomach or why the smile he pushed onto his lips felt like a too tight sweater.

A story about sand monsters, masked terrorists and alien bullets that would make any supermodel jealous. Not that Steve was aiming to fit into a Victoria Secret bikini anytime soon, but the fact still remained. Just like the fact that Steve found himself back where he started seventy years ago: small, sick and with Bucky finishing his fights.

Yes, Captain Series by marlowe_tops

E | Completed | 42,934 words

Starts pre-Serum, in which Bucky takes seriously terrible care of himself because he’s trying to stifle the feelings he keeps having for Steve. Steve gets so pissed that he flat out orders Bucky into eating and sleeping and they both quickly realize Bucky loves being ordered around, but their new-forged domestic bliss is quickly damaged by the encroaching war.

~

“Yes, Captain,” Bucky sasses, when he’s capable of speech again.

Steve stills. His head tilts very slightly. Not shocked, not angry. Considering.

Bucky feels adrenaline flood through his body. This little punk is ninety pounds wet, and Bucky is absolutely frozen in his chair intimidated by him.

In the Deed of the Glory Series by queenmab_scherzo

E | Completed | 184,945 words

Steve and Bucky end up playing for rival college football teams.

Rivers and Roads by AustinB

E | Completed | 28,569 words

Steve is working undercover for Hydra when he gets an unexpected promotion.

To the Winter Soldier Project.

Devour by SeptemberWolves 🔒

E | Completed | 77,002 words | + other pairs

Steve was on top of an office building when he caught the scent of an unmarked omega going into heat.

(The Winter Soldier goes into heat unexpectedly during a mission. Steve loses control and mates him. None of them are prepared for the consequences. Luckily the Avengers are there to help.)

Painted in Indigo by nekare

M | Completed | 11,031 words

“You should be careful of that one,” Mr. Hendrickson says, with a nod to Bucky outside the window. “It ain’t right. Looking at you all the time as he does. The way he should be looking at girls.”

Steve laughs, because damn, but what a ridiculous idea.

Or, five times Steve caught Bucky looking at him, and the one time he looked first.

Restless 'verse Series by Claudia_flies

E | Completed | 39,635 words

Bucky jolts awake. His legs are tangled in a maroon colored duvet. He is lying in the middle of a large king bed, surrounded by pillows in matching maroon pillowcases. He is warm, but there is a part of him, deep in his gut that is still cold.

There are no dreams in cryo.

sokrovische moyo by greenbergsays

E | Completed | 30,000 words

The one where Bucky is a dragon, Steve is a water nymph, and somehow, they fall in love.

Captain Aggressively-Whipped: Kick-Ass Warbuddies by FlyByNightGirl

E | Wip | 61,994 words

“Oh god man. Shut up. We’ll save your goddamn butt buddy but I swear to god I better not hear a single damn thing about your ass and that metal arm after, you hear? Or I'm fucking out. Like that. Light switch man. I will find the goddamn door.”

Steve clapped him on the shoulder, shaking once for emphasis. “I knew you'd understand.”

He didn’t miss the miserable eye roll up to the sky, but he couldn’t be sure what Sam muttered under his breath, although it did sound suspiciously like you flirt with a guy once and suddenly you’re helping him back to his betrothed and. Well.

Steve sure knew how to pick good friends.

The Man on the Bridge Series by boopboop 🔒

M | Completed | 132,027 words 

Steve Rogers turning up at Tony's door in the middle of the night might be a bit out of character, but it's not completely out of the realm of possibility. Stranger things have happened.

Steve Rogers turning up at Tony's door with an amnesiac assassin - who may or may not have some of Tony's personally designed hardware attached where his arm should be - well that's just far too interesting to turn away, even if Tony is trying to avoid all things S.H.I.E.L.D these days.

Monster and the man by cookie_book_took

E | Completed | 88,720 words

Steve finds something he wants and he's going to get it. It doesn't matter that the man of his desires has a boyfriend, doesn't matter than he doesn't feel the same, doesn't matter that they've barely shared a conversation.

Bucky Barnes is his, his mind, his body and eventually his heart will all belong to Steve....

or : Bucky just wants to go about his comfortable life but Psychopath Steve had over ideas. His body and mind are turned upside down by Steve, but he won't let him have his heart so easily.

alternatively: MONSTER AND THE MAN: A SUMMARY

Bucky's internal monologue: Dis bitch. ... .

Steve's internal monologue: MY BITCH <3

Steve, Bucky and the Apex Alpha by cookie_book_took

E | Wip | 23,140 words

After waking from the ice, Steve suffers from headaches, blackouts...and abstract thoughts.

When he's introduced to an intriguing omega, his symptoms intensify.

He likes Bucky, of course he does, but the omega already has an alpha. The more he sees Bucky, the more he thinks about him, the stronger the impulse is to have him, the more his possessive thoughts grow.

but they aren't his thoughts...another personality battles for control inside Steve's mind, he calls himself the Apex Alpha and he's got his heart set on claiming the omega for his own...

On indefinite hiatus

the sweetest kind of poison by yellow_crayon

E | Completed | 60,852 words

Between running an orphanage with his over-protective brothers and Colonel Steve Rogers's increasingly inappropriate advances, Bucky's life is...complicated.

(Bucky participates in the Annual Hunt to get the cash rewards and meets Steve who wants him bad. AU)

Sharp Teeth and Bird Bones by Shaish, Stringlish

E | Completed | 32,629 words

I'll always find you.

Breathless by thelittlestpurplecat

E | Completed | 24,847 words

Steve's Serum is failing. He's suffering again from asthma, colorblindness, dizziness and heart trouble, problems he thought he'd left behind in the 40's. Tony and Bruce can see the problem, but not how to fix it, and Bucky is determined through all of this to do what's best for Steve, even if he's not always sure what that is.

The Curves of Your Lips Rewrite History by agetwellcard

E | Completed | 17,498 words

After Steve's wedding, Bucky kisses Steve and everything changes.

(AU in which Steve and Bucky survive the war. Steve marries Peggy, and Bucky has to deal with his feelings for Steve.)

We Were Here All Along by giselleslash

E | Completed | 15,046 words

After the events in DC Bucky shows up at Steve’s door. All Steve wants to do is hide him away from the world so when Natasha offers the use of one of her safehouses Steve takes her up on it. Now the two of them are together, and on their own, nothing but two ghosts haunting a cabin in the woods desperately trying to get back to each other.

The Sun & The Star by greenbergsays

T | Completed | 2,146 words 

There is a way these things are done; this is not it.

--

Or the one where Steve belongs to the Winter Soldier.

An Accident of Time by Pickitup

M | Completed | 42,282 words 

Boys weren’t omegas. Not outside of blue movies, or bluer songs, at least, the kind of anecdotes too ribald even for soldiers to tell. Girls were omegas, sometimes, but rarely, even in those days. Dying breeds, he guessed. When he was the asset it had stopped entirely, he had thought it all over: feels sick thinking of what they would have done to exploit him if he had suffered back then. But now, 2014, eating three meals a day, sleeping regularly in a safe bed, the old ghost has come back.

Heat Wave Series by cleo4u2, xantissa

E | Wip | 413,056 words

Captain America and the Winter Soldier meet for the first time in 2015. Now Bucky, after years of torture at Hydra's and more as a prisoner of S.H.I.E.L.D., is being given the chance to gain his freedom. All he has to do, is complete a mission with a team he can't stand while following the orders of yet another pompous, controlling Alpha. Steve thinks he can get his team through their most difficult mission to date, so long as he can get the smell of the Winter Soldier's heat out of his nose.

[thefoxesboxes]

A Gathering of Guys

Time to get back into the saddle on these reviews! This one has been a long time coming, something I honestly meant to review many months ago. But, between teaching English and travelling around the world, this writing fox has had a significant decrease in available brainpower. Did watching this movie for a second time help? Will it have passed the vulpine standards check? Look under the cut to find out as we discuss the “First R-Rated CGI Cartoon”, Sausage Party.

To begin, I will preface two things. First, I love animation. The creativity and freedom that can be made from almost any kind of animated movie has always been an easy way to make me happy. Look at movies like Zootopia, Spirited Away, and even Aladdin. These movies are each dramatically different in tone, style, and overall thematics. But they’re all some of my favorite movies. Even if I think CGI is overdone in the modern animation market, it still doesn’t detract from my love of watching something creative and fresh.

I also don’t mind movies that are using raunchy or vulgar humor. A movie like Deadpool can make me laugh pretty hard at the stupid jokes and over the top violence that it employs. A movie like this should use the language and themes to push the style of the movie. Is it a violent story with a murderous mercenary hell bent on revenge? Yeah, dark and violent, but add in the fun. These things can break up the movie into a more manageable tone than most people would like. Look at the difference in things like DC and Marvel, or new Ghostbusters and old Ghostbusters. That’s a coming review, by the way.

So the big point is that this movie is awful. It’s a raunchy and joke filled movie, but it’s never creative. It’s like someone took the movie FoodFight and pushed up the production quality and age rating. The movie is graphic, violent, and full of warnings for mature content and imagery. The whole movie tries very, very hard to make sure you know that this is mature and grown up.

Maturity, in this sense, means something that says the word ‘fuck’ approximately 1.85 times a minute, often in heavy bursts. Maturity is something that makes incredibly sophomoric and heavy handed assertions about the nature of religion and real life interactions between thousand year old cultures. Mature is when you have the movies plotline come to a screeching halt to constantly point out how edgy you are over and over again. Mature, in this sense, is being a 15 year old on Reddit screaming about how you took the red pill and don’t believe in things like religion, man.

There is nothing really mature here. At all.

“Just the tips” What the fuck is a tip? Your finger? Why does a hotdog have a glove but the lady doesn’t? Save it. It’ll keep.

But let’s talk detail. First, the movie has a song. It’s not a bad song, at least for how it’s written and sung. It’s really mostly just kind of tuneless and shifts a lot into ways that obviously want to invoke religious worship songs, but doesn’t do that very well. The song does a great job of setting the tone of this movie, which is “Religious people are dumb, ya here?”. It’s not really something I want to get into, but it slides nicely into the hotdog bun of hatred I have for this movie.

The writing.

As mentioned, the writing is self-congratulatory about the idea of being R-rated when it doesn’t know what that should mean. It decided to go out of its way to be a cartoon about hotdogs and sex before seemingly having any direction, as the world itself and characters are all over the place. Do they make any particular point using food that couldn’t be done with a different material? Nope. Do they make timely or classical references throughout the movie? Well, Meatloaf plays a singing Meatloaf. They make a “To Sir with Love” reference, which intrudes on one of my absolutely favorite films ever. Saving Private Ryan? Not exactly timeless.

But the writing reflects worst on characters and dialogue. While the voice acting is, mostly, fine it’s really just the characters are a bunch of assholes. Remember that scene in Star Wars where Han Solo doesn’t believe in the Force and Luke lectures him despite having learned about it that afternoon? That happens about atheism. Our beef tube hero who’s name I really don’t care to remember (it’s Frank) learns that the Gods are evil people who eat them! Oh no! So he immediately starts bashing everyone for believing in the Gods that he believed in until literally an hour ago. He makes no good points, he seems ridiculously hypocritical, and he’s just kind of a douche.

A running theme in this movie, the main villain is a literal douche. A douche who gets a tear and loses his douchey fluids, so he needs to replenish them to restore his superpowers. This begins with him forcefully and graphically violating a damaged juice container in a way obviously reminiscent of forceful oral sex. This scene was the first one that was simply disgusting, including him commenting that he’s “Juicin’ up” to reference steroids. A rape scene, classy as hell. This only continues as this literal douche walks about to murder the main heroes will constantly repeating the same joke over and over again. His plans involved him being able to teleport, his reason for revenge was almost understandable, but being a rapist murderer really made me not care about this villain.

Also. This joke. Five fucking times.

Other than the Frankfurter Hero and Douchey Villain, we have side characters. Jewish Bagel, Mexican Lesbian Taco, overly voluptuous hotdog bun, Muslim/Middle Eastern lavash, gay Twinkee, black grits, and Firewater. These stereotypes are the closest thing to characters that exist in this film and they mostly exist pretty much solely within those roles. They exist to either be stereotypes, be annoying, or try to poke mature points at the concept of geographically interconnected regions and classically dependent cultures having feuds with each other. But let’s talk about that in terms of the world.

These foods exist for, what, a week? They exist in the same aisles, for the same goals, and often have to interact with each other for their entire existence. Their existences, mind you, which are created for explicit purpose. Why do they have different viewpoints of the Gods, to the point where it is this disseminated? Is it to make a point about the rapid distribution of altering ideals among short lived humanity? I don’t know, it just seems to be extremely crass ways to point out that these things exist and are stupid. Again a running theme.

The last major theme I want to mention is consistency. A world needs to be made in a way that follows an internal logic. Yes, magic should be explained, a world should be detailed, and even comedy should follow some form and function. If there is no law dictated within the world, then there’s no reason for me to really pay attention to what you’re doing. It’s all just whitenoise for the pretense of having jokes.

This movie fails worldbuilding with a capital F and a giant minus. The food is alive, so are douches and some other inanimate objects! But things like shoes and ladles are not, why? Why isn’t the knife alive? When we open up a thing of off brand Mentos, each of those little mints is alive. Is this things ass full of living organisms that will proceed to exist in total isolation until released?  If I make a sandwich, is it a composite of painfully attached different creatures to each other? They did show that composite foods exist as a single entity, so does that mean that pushing cheese and wheat germ together creates a new living entity? The entire idea doesn’t make sense when you show that some things would require the painful things to exist. Pizza, sandwiches, all of it. How does it work? The movie doesn’t tell you.

This line here indicates that the peanut butter, married to jelly, is only alive as it is the container. But why isn’t the bag the hotdogs were in alive, or the box? There’s no sense to be had in this madness. Just extremely dry hotdogs.

Not that the external world is any better. Remember in Toy Story where the toys could move and had to very specifically hide that fact? Yeah, this movie says fuck it. Some of the foods move and we see people view it as a hot dog rolling around. But then the hot dog gets up, dodges, ducks, dips, dives, and dodges. They even stab a hot dog standing up in the middle of the air, or they can run across the street. Do people see them or not? It’s pointed out that they need to be literally high on bath salts to see the  food moving, but then can the food interact with the world when not on bath salts? How come the food never moves and people don’t notice it? Why do I even watch anything attached to Seth Rogan? Why did you ruin my night, Seth?

This isn’t even getting into the ending. The movie ended two separate times at the end, once when the orgy of murder happened, and once when the orgy that murdered the movie happened. There’s a full orgy, it takes actually 5 minutes to get through. Does it add to the plot? Nope. Does it push anything? Nah, it’s also the scaled down version from the honestly horrifying original script Seth Rogan spent years drafting up. Fuck him so much.

There’s also a murder orgy where the food kills everyone. Apparently we can’t beat hotdogs. Who knew? A guy gets turned into a testicle puppet by the douche, carries a giant revolver that apparently has 8 bullets in it. They make Terminator and Wizard of Oz references. A merry time was had by apparently a lot of people that aren’t me.

Also, the food smoke weed that is… Apparently not alive? Why is the marijuana not alive? Fuck it. Probably some stupid point.

The main point is this. The movie contains many flaws and

Fuck this movie. Fuck you Seth Rogan for your grinning assholery. Fuck the critics who think this movie is an insightful and raunchy godsend so they can openly enjoy cartoons. Fuck the idea that this movie grossed tons of money and will probably get some kinda sequel or spinoff. Fuck the media that believes that maturity is the juvenile banter of an idiot who cannot stop dragging his political diatribes into a different subject. And fuck this movie for killing any chance Kubo and the Two Strings had of being a financial success.

Summary? This movie is crass, brash, vulgar and tasteless. It’s also somehow not brave enough to say anything that has any real merit or in a way that’s unique. It’s a movie obsessed with its own egotistical idea of being the ‘first’ but has no idea of how to make that something worth seeing. This movie is just a waste of time. It’s a mix of immature and well past it’s expiration date.

[not-so-secret-nerd]

The longer my life goes on the more I realize I don’t want it. Not the people, mind you. There are a select few who make existence on this floating rock bearable, but as a whole, there’s just nothing here.

I know, I know, I KNOW! Alright? I know! I know “people have it worse.” I know “you’re white, what the fuck do you have to worry about?” I know “at least you have a home, a car, a job, a life.” I know “at least you have people who care!” I know, “at least you’re not out on the streets!”

I know, alright?! I fucking know better than anyone how much I have and how the deck has been stacked in my favor due to my privilege. I know, okay!? So no, I shouldn’t complain, should I? I shouldn’t bemoan about my circumstances because others have and do have it worse, and what does a fucking white queer have to worry about, huh?  

But it doesn’t change the fact I look in the mirror and only see a disappointment. I see a dollar sign to my parents. I see a burden. I see a 30-year-old still living at home, unable to get a decent job, unable to be fully independent. I see a failure, and I regularly what that person to die.

I grew up a financial linchpin in my family. “Oh your father hasn’t sent in his child support again (big dramatic sigh). We’re going to have to pay out of pocket for your school supplies. Guess he really cares about you”. (Wow, equating your child’s self-worth to how much a parent is willing to pay for you, classy). “Money’s tight again (looks directly at me) we’re going to need to be really frugal for a while to make it to the next pay period.” (I am a 13-year-old child, what the fuck does this have to do with me?)

I was their prize in their divorce tug-of-war, but they never once took into account what they were doing to me. What they were exposing me to. What foundation they were laying for their adult child soon to come.

I killed myself trying to make myself as indisposable as possible because if I was useful I wouldn’t be thrown away. That’s an eight-year old’s logic. My dad left me, and my mother remarried and had another kid, oops guess that means I’m replaceable after all! I can change that! I’ll be the best in school. That’ll keep their attention/love. I’ll be the best at everything I do. I’ll learn super fast so I don’t disappoint them because I have an inescapable fear of being thrown away like last week’s garbage. I’ll do everything they ask without question. I’ll be the best daughter they could have because that’s healthy living with the fear of replacement as a constant stress.

Wow, what’s the one thing they talk about the most or complain about the most when I’m in their presence? Money! So, therefore, I need to associate my self-worth based on how much money I force my parents to spend on me/how much money I actually accumulate. The less the better because then I’m not being a burden. But wait….why can my little sister get all these cool things? Why doesn’t she feel this CRIPPLING FUCKING GUILT every time money is brought up? Why isn’t she panicking about making payments to bills that aren’t fucking mine because I’M A GODDAMN MIDDLE SCHOOLER? Why doesn’t she feel bad asking for something nice when we go out for dinner? How come mom and dad never have the “Its gonna be a lean Christmas this year” talk with her and ask her not to ask for expensive/large things?

Doesn’t she know? We’re so poor! We can’t make it to the next pay period! I made them pay for my court appointed visitation plane ticket out of pocket! Dad didn’t send his part of the child support! We can’t survive without it! This is going to set them back so much, oh god! No, no it’s okay I don’t need anything from the store, please don’t buy me that toy/thing I want, we don’t have the money.

I’m okay, I’m fine, no really it’s okay, I don’t want it anyway. Please don’t get me anything. Please don’t spend your money, I’m a burden. I’m a disgrace. I didn’t do well enough on my last test, but I swear I’ll do better. Please don’t replace me! Please don’t throw me out! Please don’t make me go live with my father, his new wife hits me! PLEASE JUST LET ME BE A KID FOR A LITTLE WHILE LONGER!

The moment a child starts to worry about the future they are no longer a child.  

And so it festers for years. Decades. Churning like black sludge under my skin, putrefying, poisoning my soul and warping my mind until with every exhale I’m whispering I’m not good enough. I’ve never been good enough. I will never be good enough.

And I just want it to stop. I just want the world to stop. Get me off this ride. I don’t want to be here anymore. Someone please just end this!

Because no amount of “it get’s better!”

No amount of “hold out for your favorite show/movie/book, you gotta see how it ends”

No amount of “this too shall pass”

No amount of “but isn’t love enough?”

No amount of “the sunrise is too beautiful to miss”

No….

No, it doesn’t get better. In fact, it’s only been getting steadily worse as the years have dragged on. I am in an eternal spiral of hemorrhaging money, medical problems, dead-end jobs, and bleak futures.

No, I will not hold out because entertainment is hollow and means nothing. It’s just a pacification for our lives, a way to blind and numb us to the fact we’re getting fucked in the ass regularly by a world with no kindness or empathy.

No, love isn’t fucking enough. It doesn’t stave off the crippling anxiety eating through my bones like a parasite. It doesn’t quiet the voices in my head, whispering at all hours, begging me to pay attention to them. It doesn’t shift the boulder of inadequacy from my shoulders, the deep-seeded disappointment I have in myself for fucking up my life, for not listening to reason, for my laziness and my complacency that’s robbed me of a potential future. For things about myself I can’t change. For the abomination I’ve turned into because of who I love. 

No, because I’ve seen the sunrise. I drive to work every day in the dark and watch the sun rise on another day and there’s nothing beautiful about it. There’s nothing striking or awe-inspiring. It’s just another day on the tarmac, struggling to eek out a living, to make payments, to make enough to eat and sustain what little life I have. It’s the fucking sun. It’s a massive star in the sky that heats our world. It’s nothing more than a glorified light bulb overtop a greenhouse and I’m tired of watching the sunrise time and time again on my life that’s going nowhere.

Between fighting with the hospital debt, potentially losing any chance at a good, steady job because of a pending and false “hit and run” charge in DC, minor traffic violations I’m expected to pay because of my job, and only making $400-ish every two weeks, I have nothing left to give the world. Where’s my worth lie? Oh, gee, it’s in how much I can contribute to my family unit and that’s a big fat zero.

I have tried. Really fucking tried for years to find my place, but the fact remains there isn’t a place for me anywhere. I can’t carve out a nook for myself. I’ve tried. Every time I get somewhere the sand shifts and I’m back to square one. I can create so much with my hands. My mind is incredible. I have this innate ability to look at something and recreate it almost perfectly but no one wants an “unskilled worker” on their team, or they don’t want to pay. I only have a small portfolio. No one is going to hire me for steady work and the trade industry is a joke. I can write pros that bring people to tears. I can world build and wordsmith. I’ve crafted stories that surpass published favorites and have touched peoples’ hearts but no editor will give me so much as a fart because I’m not established. I’m not mainstream enough. I’m not marketable. And forget getting a job editing or freelance writing. You need a degree for that. You need a degree to fucking breathe in this country and the one I have only supplies the bare minimum of oxygen.

I am poor. Depressingly poor.

I am 30 and I live at home because I can’t afford a life for myself.

I have all this talent and nowhere to place it

I’m being eaten alive by inadequacy, guilt, anger, disappointment, jealousy, anxiety, and worthlessness

And I am very tired of living with this.

Don’t message me. Don’t reach out to me. Don’t send me your platitudes or your sympathy. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want hugs or words of comfort or your view on things. I don’t want to be touched. I don’t want your fucking prayers or good vibes. They don’t work, and I’m not about to be your token “prayer request” or the “good deed you did to top off your karma tank”.

Leave me alone

Let me fade

[radi0active-thoughts]

Ghost, Chapter 3 - “Scars”

A/N: I’m with good internet (finally, thank God)! Thanks for all the support and feedback! The playlist is not ready yet (unfortunately), but you’ll be able to hear it soon enough. @witchymarvelspacecase did I already tell you’re awesome? If I didn’t, here’s my shout out! Thanks for helping me! By the way, the chapter is inspired by the song “Scars” by I Prevail (a band which I highly recommend).

Summary: Reader reveals part of her past to somebody for the first time since everything happened. She looks for somebody from her past, goes missing for an entire day after her medical check-up and the team gets worried.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death and violence, night terrors, panic attack, Bucky being a sweetheart, Tony and Steve acting like worried parents (is this even a warning?), swearing.

Word count: 4.046 (I got carried away, sorry)          

Y/N: your name Y/H/C: your hair color Y/LN: your last name.

  “Y/N?” I heard a voice out of nowhere. “Y/N, wake up.”

Suddenly, the images left my head, my eyes shot open, my chest hurt, and I fought to breathe, and my throat was dry. With no hesitation, I pointed the gun in my hand at someone’s head and I would’ve shot if I hadn’t recognized the person in front of me in time.

My breathing was heavy and uneven, and I was a sweaty mess. Bucky was sitting on my bed, and I had the gun pointed at his head.

My body trembled as Bucky took the gun from my hand and put it on my nightstand. I began to cry and he pulled me to his chest, my tears soaked his shirt while he calmed me. “Shhh, it was a nightmare, everything is okay.”

“How did you…?” I began to ask after my brain began to form coherent sentences again. I pulled my body from his embrace.

“I was going to the kitchen to a glass of water,” Bucky answered and hesitantly his metal hand tucked a loose strand of my Y/H/C hair behind my left ear. “I heard you screaming and the door was open. I came in and you were mumbling ‘Now it’s your time to die, you son of a dirty bitch,’ or something like that.”

“Oh,” I said simply.

“I’m still going to the kitchen to get that glass of water,” He began, “wanna talk about it?”

“Sure,” I answered after a few seconds of an uncomfortable silence, “I won’t be able to get back to sleep now anyway.”

I got up and went to my closet to take my silk robe, even though I was wearing an old and ripped AC/DC shirt and a Star Wars pajama shorts. Wearing the robe was a habit I’d had since I lived with my grandma, she always wore one and I had wanted to be like her in many ways.

Bucky and I walked to the kitchen in silence and I sat in one of the stools next to the kitchen counter. Bucky took a wooden box from one of the cabinets and opened it.

“Want some tea, Doll?” He asked. “By the way, is it okay for me to call you that?”

“Did you call all the girls that way back in your time?” I asked smiling. He smiled back.

“Only the ones who really interested me.” He answered and I left a laugh.

“Okay, then.” I said. “For the tea, I’ll definitely say yes.”

“Okay, Doll” He said and took out two bags of tea, put one in each mug and began to warm the water. “Wanna talk about your nightmare?”

“It was about my time with the Cobras.” I answered.

“The… Cobras?” He asked confused.

“A secret initiative inside the FBI.” I explained. “A group of assassins, thieves and mercenaries that dirtied their hands so the FBI agents remained clean… man, I was a careless bastard in those times.”

“Tell me more.” He said.

“I was recruited when I was 19.” I began. “My grandmother’s death wrecked me and I didn’t have anyone to turn to. Things didn’t go so well,  killing and torturing people was where I found relief and fun.”

“You found relief in killing people?” Bucky asked confused.

“Yes, but now I regret it.” I answered and sighed. “Deeply.”

“Here you go.” He said, handing me the mug. “Lemon and ginger.”

“Thanks.” I said, and he put the box inside the drawer. He looked at me and nodded, so I would continue. I took a sip of the tea and he sat on a stool next to me. “I’m not proud of the blood in my hands, Bucky. It pains me to think of everyone I killed. Hell, I even killed a mother in front of her son. I didn’t realize it, not before he ran to her dead body screaming the word “mommy” over and over again.”

I took a deep breath so I could hold back the pain inside my chest. The tears began to burn my eyes but I fought them. “I-I left the initiative after I discovered that some of the men on the team were bad news. My commander was the head of a terrorist organization that involved a biological weapon. I killed everyone in front of me to get to the place that I was supposed to go to wipe out the targets, and I was tortured. They used me as a motherfucking punch bag.”

“Y/N, I…” Bucky began and I sighed, lowering my head on the counter and trying to stop the tears that escaped from my eyes.

“I-I went berserk.” I said when I lifted my head. “I remember all of it. I killed ten men before getting to Johnson and shooting his knees and his feet, so I could finish my mission with a bullet through his head.”

“This Johnson guy, he’s the “dirty son of a bitch” you mumbled about?” He asked and I let out a humorless laugh.

“Yes, that’s him.” I answered and drank more of the tea. “But I didn’t kill him. The FBI agents arrived before I could. They tried to keep the initiative alive, but it had a system failure. I mean, how do you put thieves, mercenaries and assassins in a team and tell them they must be honest?”

Bucky seemed to think about my question for a while, but brushed it off. “Look, it’s already dawn.”

“I have to be up soon, unfortunately.” I got up and stretched while groaning. I looked at the window to see the night sky fading.

“Let me take you back to your room, it’s on the way back to mine.” Bucky said and we went back to the floor where the rooms were.

“G’night, Doll.” He said and went towards his room, which was two doors past mine.

“Bucky?” I called him and he appeared at his door before closing it. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Doll.” He said as he stepped into his room and closed his door. I stepped inside, closed my door, took the silk robe off of my body and laid on my bed again, drifting off to sleep.

“Ms. Y/LN?” FRIDAY woke me up from the sleep that had only felt like only 10 minutes of proper rest.

“Yes, FRIDAY?” I groaned after a long minute.

“Mr. Stark says if you don’t wake up, you might lose out on breakfast and your medical check-up.” The AI answered.

“What time is it?” I asked, my mouth moving against the pillow.

“A quarter to eight.”

“First of all” I began while I sat on my bed. “Tell Stark to shove his eggs and bacon strips or whatever he’s eating up his ass. Second, do you have some good music to play?”

“Your message was successfully sent.” FRIDAY responded. “What do you want to play?”

“Surprise me.” I shrugged and FRIDAY put “Uptown Funk” by Mark Ronson and Bruno Mars to play. “Turn it up, please! Yes!”

I got up and went to my closet. For the check-up, I chose a pair of gray leggings, a black sports bra, and a Led Zeppelin oversized tank top. I chose a random black panty, a pair of socks and sneakers, and went to take a shower.

It was a little habit of mine to wake up with music blasting in my house. My Parisian neighbors had complained, my roommate had complained (at first) and even grandmother had complained about my noisy habit, but I needed a little cheer up – I wasn’t a morning person. Definitely not.

I was brushing my teeth and enjoying the music that played in my room, which now was “Pompeii” by Bastille. I combed my hair and styled it in a pair of boxer braids. I put some deodorant on, because who doesn’t want their armpits smelling like Lady Speed Stick, right?

“FRIDAY, can you stop the music, please?” I asked the AI, who did what was told.

“You have two new messages, Ms. Y/LN.” FRIDAY said. “Want me to replay them?”

“Of course.” I said and the AI reproduced the voice messages.

Mr. Stark: ‘Why don’t you move your tattooed butt here so you can watch as I shove Clorofile juice and donuts in my ass?’

Steve Rogers: ‘C’mon guys! Can’t you just use regular words instead of dirty ones!?’

All I could do was laugh at the messages as I left my room and found my way to the kitchen. “Good morning all of you.”

“Morning, Y/N!” Wanda and Nat said.

“Morning, Ms. Y/LN.” Steve said, sounding like a father; a very disappointed father.

“Good morning, sweet cheeks.” Sam said. I looked at him.

“Sammy boy.” I began with a threatening smile and a soft voice. “Do you wanna know why birds stop singing?”

His eyes went wide and I took an apple. Nat chuckled. “Nice.”

“G’morning, Doll.” Bucky said when I sat between him and Nat. “Did you sleep well?”

“After the Hell of a night I had, yes.” I smiled after I began to bite the apple, stopping my actions after I remember I couldn’t eat anything for the check-up. “How about you?”

“Yeah, I managed to sleep a few more hours.” He answered.

“What did we miss?” Stark asked, his eyes going from Bucky to me.

“No wonder I heard a few screams last night.” Sam teased and I threw my apple at him. It hit his chest, hard. “Ouch!”

“Now that is what I call a good shot!” Nat laughed and we fist bumped each other.

“But seriously, what happened?” Wanda asked.

“I came to take a glass of water and Y/N had… insomnia.” Bucky answered. “I made us tea and we talked until sleep got the best of us.”

“It explains the two mugs in the sink.” Steve commented and exchanged looks with Bucky, in a silent conversation that only the two of them were having.

“So…” I began while getting up. “I gotta go now.”

“Training?” Nat asked.

“Medical check-up.” I answered while leaving the kitchen.

“Hey, Ms. Inked Buttocks?” Tony called me and the team burst out laughing. I turned around with a laugh. I had to admit that the nickname was good. “I gotta give you something.”

“I hope it’s not FRIDAY’s records of my inked assets looking good yesterday” I said with a laugh.

The AI answered. “That can be arranged, Ms. Y/LN.”

“No, no, no.” I said. “I was joking... what is it?”

Stark came to me, took something from his pockets and handing me. It was a brand new iPhone, already set for me to use it; and a black credit card. “The passport is on your notes. Use it wisely.”

“Thanks, old man.” I said and left the kitchen. FRIDAY guided me to the hospital wing, where Doctor Helen Cho and Doctor Bruce Banner, sometimes the Hulk, were waiting for me with a medical team.

“Hey, Y/N.” He greeted me. “You didn’t sleep well.”

“Hey, Bruce.” I greeted him. “No, not at all.”

“It wasn’t a question at all, but let’s act like it was.” His lips formed an understanding smile. “I think somebody else than Bucky knows about my night terrors” I thought.

“Ms. Y/LN.” Doctor Cho greeted me. “We’re about to do a comprehensive medical exam.”

“Comprehensive?” I asked.

“Well, laboratory tests, chest x-rays, pulmonary function testing, audiograms, full body CAT scan, EKGs, heart stress tests, vascular age tests, urinalysis, and mammograms.” She answered my question. “Doctor Lane, our physician, and his assistant will be responsible for a few physical tests and therapy for your leg.”

“Okay, alright.” I said.

I felt like a little lab rat while the team examined me. I cooperated patiently for the almost three hours that they took doing the comprehensive exam and my stomach began to growl.

“Holy shit.” I muttered while I looked at my brand new phone for something I didn’t know.

“You didn’t eat, I see.” Bruce said and I looked at him.

“You could say that.” I said.

“I heard Bucky and you talking last night.” He said after an uncomfortable silence. “About your nightmare and your times as a mercenary to the FBI.”

“So?”

“I don’t know what you do to calm yourself, but activities like yoga and meditation can help.” Bruce said with a reassuring smile.

“I actually sleep holding a triggered gun.” I said and shrugged. “But those could work too.”

“And about your exams” He began while looking at his iPad. “You are healthy as a horse, except for a little anemia. I recommend you to eat more protein and tomorrow your iron supplements will be ready. Three times a day before breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

“Right.”

“Your sessions with the physical therapist will begin tomorrow, but I recommend you to work out in the training room also.” He said.

“Okay, Doc.” I said. “Can I go now?”

“Enjoy your day, Ms. Y/LN.” Bruce said simply and I went back to my room. I laid on my bed and began to configure a fingerprint and a PIN number for security on my new phone.

“What do I do now?” I asked myself while I fooled around my Instagram feed and then I looked to my nightstand to see the black credit card Stark gave me. I smiled as I remembered a friend who owed me a few favors.

I got up and took a quick shower before changing into combat boots, a pair of black jeans, a white bra and a white tank top. I got my jeans jacket, a bag to put my wallet and phone, and a pair of aviator sunglasses before heading to the garage.

And man, I was amazed when I arrived – there were antique, and luxury cars, and badass motorcycles. I couldn’t decide which automobile I’d choose when my eyes laid on a black Mustang.

“Oh, boy.” I said going towards the car and getting in it. “It’s you I want.”

I closed the door when I saw the keys in the ignition and I turned it on to hear the beautiful noise that the motor made. “Hot damn!”

I took my phone and put the address I was heading to on Google Maps. My little trip to Manhattan, to Brooklyn, was nice. I was going to meet Craig Johannes, one of the men who were in the Cobras with me. When the initiative went down, he went back to the tattoo studio that had belonged to his father and retired from killing. He taught everything I know about tattooing, so I could get a job that’d pay the rent, my bills and a life out of trouble.

But when you’re a troublemaker, trouble stalks you even in your sleep.

I took my bag and got out of the car, closing it and activating the alarm afterwards. A man wearing a coat and a cap approached me and I was ready to attack him. But I would recognize the bastard’s face, built physique, long brown hair and olive skin from miles.

“The good daughter always comes back home.” Craig said with a smile, the wrinkles next to his eyes showing.

“Shut your face, old man.” I smiled and hugged him.

“Always light as a brick.” He sighed with a laugh and we pulled apart from each other. “When did you come back?”

“A few days ago.” I answered. “I was about to ask you for that favor you owe me.”

“Are you going to kill someone?” He asked while we entered his studio, it was a tidy place with a clean and minimalist decoration. “Because I’d be glad to help.”

“You miss the times, don’t you?” I asked when I put my bag on the couch. Craig was wearing reading glasses now.

“Sometimes, I admit.” He answered. “I still practice targets with axes. What is this great favor I owe you?”

“Make good on the promise you made while I healed a few years ago, Johannes.” I chuckled and he raised his eyebrows.

“Wanna forget the scars, I see.” He stated and I nodded. “I still have that drawing you made, the dragon. I just need to measure your back.”

“Okay.” I said and took the jacket off. He took a metric tape, a notebook and a pen to write it down. “How much time will you take to transfer it?”

“Two hours.” He answered. “But I don’t know if we will be able to finish today. Maybe three sessions will be enough, but let’s see.”

“So… I’ll look for a place to eat.” I said. “Want something?”

“Nah, I’m good.” He answered and walked to the back.

It was a ten minute walk to a coffee shop. I asked for a sub with Australian bread, meat and cheese, and an orange juice. I paid for the meal and sat on one of the tables to eat it and fill my stomach with delight. Then, I found a bookstore and bought two books: one of Gabriel García Márquez’ novels, and another about yoga and meditation.

I returned to the studio after an ice cream stop and Craig was setting up his equipment. Two more artists who were now set up in the studio, minding their own clients.

“You ready?” He asked. I nodded.

“As I’ll ever be.” I answered.

“So you’re back in the business.” Craig asked while I felt the needles in my skin, tracing the dragon and the cherry flowers and petals. He cleaned the blood and ink mess that my back was becoming.

“The good daughter always comes back home.” I mocked him while I supported my topless upper half on the chair. He chuckled. “I didn’t abandon my day job as a tattoo artist. Whenever I need some rest from seeing blood and people dying in front of me, I go back to it. It gives me peace, you know?”

“Yeah, I do.” He answered. “Black and gray?”

“Yep.” I answered and I knew he had to rest his hand and change the needles. “You’re not finishing it today, are you?”

“No chance.” Craig answered. “I’ll do the flowers and petals, but the dragon will have to wait.”

“Fine for me.” I said and he began to paint the flowers, the noise that the tattoo machine made sounded like music to my ears. “How’s your daughter?”

“She’s okay, in college.” He answered and I could hear the smile on his voice. “Yale. Can you believe it?”

“That’s great news.” I said. “You must be hella proud.”

“Hell yeah.” He sighed and the noise of the machine made the remaining silence less… deafening. “Have you thought about settling down from this life and forming a family?”

“A family?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He answered. “You and somebody else, with little copies of both of you running around a big ass house, with a cute white picket fence and a golden retriever…”

“Is this your idea of settling down?” I asked with a laugh. Craig chuckled.

“This is how I settled with my wife before we had Zoe, and how I settled after we had Caleb, long after the initiative came to an end.” He answered. “It’s not that bad to settle down and feel like you’re at home.”

“It might be about finding the person that fits you before thinking of settling down, I guess.” I shrugged.

“I guess you’ll know when you want to settle.” Craig answered and I went silent, not really wanting to think about this matter.

When Craig finished painting the flowers, he cleaned my back with soap and water and covered almost my entire upper half with plastic. I put my clothes back on and took my jacket and my bag with me.

“You still know how to take care of it, don’t you?” He asked.

“Of course.” I answered.

“I want you to come and have lunch, or dinner, at my house one of these days.” Craig said while hugging me, careful of my freshly inked back. “And we can set the next appointment so we finish this badass motherfucker on your back.”

“Sure thing.” I said when he let me go. “I’ll let you know when I’ll be less busy.”

“Y/N?” He said and I looked at him from the car. “Don’t get shot.”

“Can’t promise anything.” I smiled as I entered the car and he laughed. “See you, old man.”

I put the key in the ignition, turned it on and pulled out of the parkway. It was already night and my back was warm for the long hours of tattooing. The drive back to the compound was silent. Way too silent.

FRIDAY greeted me when I arrived and parked the car in its place. “Welcome back, Ms. Y/LN.”

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” I said and got out.

“The team is waiting for you in the living room.” FRIDAY said and suddenly I knew I was in trouble. “They seem worried.”

“Oh, shit.” I muttered to myself and went towards the elevator. With a ‘ding’, the elevator’s door opened and I entered the living room. “Hey guys, wha-“

“Where the Hell you were, Miss?” Tony, who was pacing the room when I arrived, was the first to ask. I barely knew the man and already I could tell that he was pissed. “And with my Mustang!”

“I was around.” I answered and shrugged.

“Around?” Steve asked, making quotes in the air. He crossed his arms. “You know that isn’t a proper answer, don’t you?”

“What do you want me to say, huh?” I asked sarcastically. “That I was whoring around, and fucking for cheap joints?”

“Language.” Steve retorted and I scoffed. That was my turn to cross my arms.

“Don’t you ‘language’ me, Captain.” I said. “I’m a grown up, I know what I’m doing with my life.”

“Where were you?” Tony asked again.

“I know you know where I was, Stark.” I said. “You must’ve put GPS systems in all the automobiles in the garage.”

“That might be true.” He said.

“So, why don’t you see it for yourself?” I asked and immediately he took his phone from his pocket to check it out.

“Brooklyn?” He asked and I nodded.

“What were you doing in Brooklyn?” Bucky asked.

“I was visiting a friend.” I answered.

“Uhhh, a friend.” Sam said. Nat, Wanda and Clint snickered.

“Cut the bullshit, Wilson.” I said and Steve was about to say something when I looked him dead in the eye and he interrupted himself. “Now, I’m gonna take a shower and go to bed, if you don’t mind.”

“Why are you covered in plastic, Ms. Y/LN?” Vision asked and everyone in the room looked at him in confusion.

“Nothing to worry about.” I answered politely.

“Now I wanna know.” Sam said. Nat and Wanda agreed. “Is this something about this ‘friend’ of yours?”

“Do you wanna wake up with your mouth full of ants, Wilson?” I asked.

“If it’s ‘nothing to worry about’” Clint began. “Why don’t you show us?”

“Okay, fine.” I sighed after a long silence, turned my back to them, took off the clothes that covered my upper half and began to take the plastic off of my body.

“Tell me we’re not seeing you naked again.” Nat said. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Okay.” I said and looked at them. “You’re not seeing me naked again.”

“Holy shit!” I heard Nat say.

“Oh, wow!” Wanda said.

“That is awesome!” Sam said.

“That is…” Bucky began. “Big. Beautiful, but big.”

“Ladies in my times didn’t have those.” Steve said.

“You know it’s been more than 70 years since our time, right, punk?” Bucky asked.

“I’m not just a lady, Captain.” I said and looked at him, covering my front with my shirt. “I’m a lady and an assassin.”

“I saw you had some scars.” Bruce said and approached me. “I saw them this morning but I didn’t ask anything at all. I knew you wouldn’t answer.”

“Those are battle scars, but I’m not really proud of ‘em, you know.” I said. He nodded. “That’s why I’m working on covering them… Now can I go to my room?”

“Go ahead, Inked Buttocks.” Tony said. “Now the nickname makes even more sense.”

I laughed while walking to the elevator. “Yes, it does.”

A/N 2: Guys, since I watched “Frontier” recently, I did my best to describe Craig as Jason Momoa. So you can imagine him that way.

Tags: @witchymarvelspacecase @annabella789 @barnesdeservestheworld @ladylustitia @theseldomseenkilljoy @blue-crayon-18 @curlyhairedlolita @wowspideyholland @wicket-master @purrrcrastination @s-killian14 @coal000 @parisss-lilli @luv-what-you-do 

[ohsnapitzmarvel]

Plz add more post IW headcanons !!!! Can we talk about some potential post infinity war headcanons plz n thank u???? Like I want a Tony Stark who SURVIVES and STAYS STRONG™ during and after the fight against Thanos! A Tony who seeks out PROFESSIONAL help after everything is cleaned up– i.e a therapist, social worker literally anybody who is willing to LISTEN and HELP HIM work through his potential PTSD and grief!!

I want a Pepper who DOESN’T get upset/scared when her loved one has a PTSD/grieving episode!!! I want Tony to have support from her– knowing that even if his actions scare her, she will stay with him and hold him when it’s dark

I want a Peter Parker who SURVIVES and SUCCEEDS after infinity war (plz god plz). I want him to be able to rely/trust his new avenger friends– BUT still have a normal life (plz don’t spoil his secret identity it is so marvel-y pure™)

!!!! infinity war side note: PLEASE DONT KILL HIS IRON MAN DAD PLZ PLZ PLZ HE DOESNT NEED TO SEE ALL THIS DESTRUCTION AND LOSE ANOTHER FATHER/MENTOR FIGURE !!!

Headcanons continued: I want a peter Parker who has grown from his new experiences when working with the avengers, I hope he has new SUPER FRIENDS™ but keeps his regular friends (luv u Ned n Michelle) – Idk I also wish this lil bean doesn’t get any srs PTSD he doesn’t need that in his life.

I ALSO WANT A RHODES WHO STAYS IN TONY’S LIFE AND WHO IS GETTING THE TREATMENT HE DESERVES BC I WANT HIM TO WALK AGAIN PLZ. I want this manz to have the world and the moon. Give this man his legs and more bc Tony needs him and he needs Tony (plz give me a pepperony wedding w/ him as best man????)

I want a Thor (beautiful n wonderful Space Labrador) who is HAPPPPPPYYYYY who is able to live a normal life in Asgard and be a part time avenger still (only when the world is in grave danger) I want him to be friends w/ Peter Quill, just kicking intergalactic ass together.

I want a Peter Quill who is finally reunited with his grandfather plz n thank u- his grandfather needs to know that his daughter was not ‘crazy’ when she was always talking about the stars. I also want a Peter Quill w/ a fricking IPod with music picked from every avenger / Marvel superhero (you betcha Tony would pick some AC/DC for his new pal)

I also didn’t realize I really needed a Peter Quill x Thor friendship until now plz lord help me tooooo cute!! (This is my new favourite headcanon)

I want a Rocket and Groot duo finally taking a break plz just doing easy work after infinity war – also keeping in contact with their new friends!

I want a Gamora who is independent now because she has no more evil power hungry purple lard-ass dad to worry about. I also want her to let Peter more into her life plz marvel be nice to her she deserves the world n more –> plz note I also want an actual SIBLING RELATIONSHIP WITH HER AND NEBULA. I NEED THESE TWO GIRLS TO BE STRONG TOGETHER AND JUST KICK ASS!! I WANT THEM TO DO SISTER STUFF

I want a Steve Rogers WHO CAN FINALLY TAKE A BREAK BRUH IDC IF U GIVE UP THE SHIELD AND CAP FOR GOOD BUT Plz plZ PLZ LET THIS BB BOY JUST CATCH A BREAK – I also want him and Tony to talk things out after IW (@marvel plz don’t kill either of these angels)!!! (Somebody plz add more I am too emotional to think of anything else for this precious sun n light of America)

???I maybe want a Bucky Barnes(yah I just want Bucky tBH)?? Jk jk I want a Bucky Barnes who is working on himself now (mAYBE EVEN IN WAKANDA he can eat all the plums he wants, read all the books he wants, catch up on all the history that he missed out on whilst being a badass hydra assassin – maybe I also want him to be the new cap but we can talk bout that another time.

I WANT A SAM WILSON AS A FRICKING FULL TIME AVENGER WHO HAS HAPPINESS AND GOES ONTO ROAD TRIPS TO SEE BUCKY N STEVE PLZ N THANK YOU. I want this bb to just be amazing and still work as a social worker (bless this boy honestly) with soldiers n maybe even SHIELD agents who are suffering w/ PTSD

I want a Natasha who is taking some time by herself, plz let this role model of a icon (English plz) maybe teach girls of all ages how to defend themselves against the evils of the world (plz not Clint would host the male equivalent of this bc the world is a scary place for everybody). Maybe let nat even let her guard down for a bit— let her live her life she deserves– have girl nights with her friends– visit Clint n his beautiful family– keep in contact with Steve n Bucky n Sam n Tony n everybody tBH but let her live

I want a Clint Barton who stays sarcastic as always but is finally with his family, maybe teaching archery to his kids??? I’m so glad he has a lil farm plz don’t blow up his lil farm

I want a Wanda WHO FINALLY GETS THE COUNSELLING SHE DESERVES AFTER LOSING HER BROTHER AND GETTING BLAMED !!!! I want her to have a normal teenager years/ early adulthood– maybe let her be friends with peter they can gossip bout everybody. I want her to be happy and not scared. I also want her to be w/ Vision plz

I WANT A VISION WHO DOESNT DIE THANKS MARVEL

[scientifically-strange]

Blast to the Past Part 2: The Future?

Danny desperately just wanted one normal day. But apparently, the Universe or Clockwork, or whoever, he didn’t care anymore, decided that that was too much for the young halfa.

This whole week had been complete crap. Sunday, there was a small army of Hydra robots (created by Hydra, naturally) that decided they were going to do a WWII reenactment and try taking over France. Danny had teamed up with the Avengers for that.

Monday there was a new ghost who had some sort of vendetta against Skulker. He protected the animals, land, sea, and air, and ghost, and Skulker was being a dick about it. He had to fly all the way to the outskirts of Wakanda to take them both down (Even though he kind of  agreed with the animal lover), and sent them back to their own layers. Then he had been captured by the Wakandan patrol and Tony had to come and vouch for him to be let go, that he was just helping.

Tuesday he saw Tucker and Clint fall from the ceiling in the kitchen while Danny had been half asleep and eating a bowl of cereal. They had landed on the other side of the table, making it break and flip up, knocking Danny’s food into his face.

Wednesday was normal, thank goodness. But that was weird because that never happens. It was so unproductive it was unsettling.

But now it was Thursday, and he was with the Avengers again, kicking ass against Hydra (again), but this time it was in DC, where they were trying to take down the Washington Monument. However, during that battle, whether it was during the takedown or right after, Danny wasn’t quite sure, but when he high-fived Captain America, he high-fived the wrong one.

He just wanted one normal fucking day. The worst part was he didn’t even notice until they had gotten back to the others and the present-day Cap had been picking himself up from the debris, shaking off the dust and pain. He stretched and kind of chuckled at Clint when he tripped over his own feet and fell into the reflecting pool. But Danny’s grin had escaped him.

The past Steve and Bucky walked around, bewildered at the sight of a giant robot more so than at their future selves.

“Danny? Where are we?” Bucky asked, concerned when he took notice of the second Steve. He was dirty and rugged, and his shirt had holes in it, and Danny noticed the way his hands gripped his rifle a little closer to him.

“Uh...” Danny said, at a loss for words.

“Danny, you���re bleeding!” Ant-Man rushed forward and started checking the gash on Danny’s head, nearly tackling him to the ground. “Hey, Cap, do you have any bandages?”

“Yeah, here you go,” Future Steve said, leaning over and handing him some from his belt. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes glued onto his past self and past Bucky.

“Steve, is this the Twilight Zone?” Future Bucky hissed into his Steve’s ear when he walked up to see what was wrong.

“Steve, Bucky,” Danny said, swatting Scott away and turning toward the present day pair, “this is Steve and Bucky. From the forties.”

“What year is this?” Past-Bucky asked.

“It’s 2017,” the other Bucky replied.

“This is going to get really confusing,” Scott mumbled.

“Yeah,” Danny said with a groan, “no kidding.”

---------

Back at the Tower, Steve and Bucky talked with their past selves. To avoid confusion, they called them Steven and James, which was really weird, because now that he thought of it, he had never heard their full names until now. Danny was making a meal fit for an Asgardian. After all, he’s got four super soldiers and himself to feed. That’s enough for Thor to get seconds.

“So, how did you guys end up here?” Danny asked James and Steven. He put the lid on the pot of noodles, letting it stir itself, and turned to face them. He noticed that they were fresh and clean, free from the months of dirt that had caked over them. Their clothes were gonna be washed and repaired, but until then Steven had borrowed from Steve, and James had borrowed from Danny because Bucky’s clothes were to big for him. It was weird seeing the before and after stages of Hydra manipulation sitting side by side and having a detailed conversation about Star Wars. Seeing both Steves, though, the only things that were different were the the hair and the eyes. They had the same shade of baby blues, but damn, it was like they spoke two different languages.

“We don’t really know,” Steven answered. He sat straight up with his hands in his lap. “Bucky sounded like he was in trouble so I came to help. Then there was this bright light and we were thrown into the reflection pool. Everything is all kind of fuzzy.”

“There was this Dracula dude,” James chipped in. “I never thought I’d meet an actual vampire.”

Danny stiffened and shared a look with Steve.

“What did this...Vampire look like?” Steve asked. Danny was a little to angry to form polite questions at the moment.

“He was blue, had a white cape, looked kind of fancy. I think he was glowing or something?” Bucky offered.

“Vlad,” Danny spit. He turned back around and took the lid off the pot, checking the noodles before he put them in a strainer and added some sauce. He gave four heaping bowls of the stuff to the soldiers, and a slightly smaller one for himself, along with some expensive bread Stark imported from Italy.

“You know him?” Steven guessed. Steve gave his past self a look that said drop it but Danny decided to answer anyway.

“He was an old friend of my parents. They worked together in college on ghost stuff,” he started. “He’s a halfa too. The first, actually. He used his powers to get rich and famous. He always hated my dad for the accident that turned Vlad into a halfa. He ended up in the hospital and my parents fell in love. Vlad had a major crush on her.

Then their college reunion came around. I was fourteen at the time, it was just a few months after I got my powers. one thing led to another, we found out each others secrets and became like, mortal enemies or whatever. A couple years back he screwed me over so now I live here.”

Steven and James knew by the tone of the boy’s voice that they weren’t supposed to ask how this guy screwed him over. But there was still one question itching at the back of their heads.

“Why did Vlad bring them here then, Danny?” Bucky asked. Danny shrugged and slurped his noodles.

“Don’t know,” he said with a mouth full of food. “Not good though. He should know not to mess with time like this, he learned that lesson along time ago. With you two here they never stop Hydra and win the war,” Danny guessed. “So maybe we go to Hydra and figure out what the hell is going on.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Steve countered, setting his food down.

“Look, I know. But if Vlad is in trouble we gotta help him. With his kind of power in Hydra’s hands the rest of the world won’t stand a chance. We gotta hit em hard and fast.”

“We can help,” Steven suggested.

“No, you guys have to go to the portal and get back to your own time,” Bucky said.

“The portal was fried by Technus last week, remember?” Danny said. “I was going to fix it this week but I haven’t had the chance. It’ll take me weeks to get to wires and re-circuit the whole thing.But if we help Vlad he might let us use his.”

“Then it’s a deal,” Bucky said. “We’re coming with.”

---------

Getting in to the compound and finding Vlad had been the easy part.

Getting him out was the part they were still trying to work out.

“Daniel? After what I’ve done I have to say-I’m a bit surprised to see you helping me,” Vlad said when Danny had put his arm around him, helping the older halfa walk. Danny remained silent.

The four soldiers had provided lots of cover, and there were a couple of close calls with Steven and James, but they managed okay enough. Especially with the upgraded guns Stark provided specifically for this mission. It was kind of fun seeing Nazis being killed.

But Vlad still kept talking.

“Why are you helping me Daniel? Have you had a change of heart? Maybe changed your mind about my proposal?”

Danny ignored him. Instead he focused his anger on the door in front of them, kicking it down with such force it splintered and flew almost ten feet away. His eyes were a blazing green.

He followed the Steves and Buckys out into the opening, just barely making it a safe distance away before the explosion they had set up went off. Danny let go of Vlad, and he fell to the ground in a heap. Danny pressed his boot down on Vlad’s chest, his anger seeping into every word.

“We are going to use your portal. You won’t mess with time or Hydra again. And if I ever see you again you won’t be just another halfa. Understand?” When Vlad hesitated Danny pressed down harder. He heard the beginning of a crack, but it was just a fracture he was making. Vlad coughed and nodded.

“Good,” Danny said. “Let’s go, guys.”

--------

Once in the Zone, it was only a short flight to Clockwork’s, but he had to make the trip four times because he couldn’t carry all of them at once. When he was carrying James, his anger began to finally go away. He didn’t realize he started to cry, though, until James pointed it out. Danny didn’t say anything though. This was going to be saved for a session with Wilson.

When he went back to grab Bucky, the last of the four, his face was dry and monotone.

“If he ever shows his face again I’ll help you,” he said, squeezing Danny’s shoulder. He nodded, thankful for the offer.

“Yeah. Thanks,” he said. 

“Hello, Danny,” Clockwork said as he turned into a baby. “The portal you need is right over there. Would you care to stay for a game of chess?”

“And lose to the guy who knows the future?” Danny chuckled.”I think I’ll pass. But thanks anyway, Stopwatch.”

The goodbyes were weird and heartfelt, and despite being the same people, they weren’t. Not really. The future Steve and Bucky were so different from their past selves in so many ways tan just physical, and it was easy to tell. And even though he was going to see them for breakfast in the morning, he was going to miss them. Once they were gone, Steve and Bucky decided to go back tot he Tower, Danny promising to meet up with them later. He turned to Clockwork.

“I changed my mind on chess,” Danny said, letting his head hang down. Clockwork smiled and brought him into a side hug.

“I’ll make some tea.”