#someone should tell the shooters that shooting people is illegal

[beardedmrbean]

There has been another shooting in the Matonge area of the Brussels municipality of Elsene. The Brussels Judicial Authorities report that no one was injured in the shooting that is the latest in a series of incidents involving firearms in the area.

It is still unclear whether the incident was drugs-related as was the case with other recent shootings in the Matonge area. The Brussels Capital Elsene Local Police Service received reports that gunshots had been heard on the Waversteenweg, near to the Matonge Gallery at around 10pm om Sunday.

Bullet holes and cartridges were found at the scene. The police and the Judicial Authorities say that no one was injured in the shooting.

The incident was not the first shooting in the Matonge District in recent months. At the end of September a bystander was injured in an exchange of fire between drug gangs.

It is still too early to say whether Sunday night’s shooting was drug related. The Judicial Authorities’ investigation is still ongoing. The person or persons that fired the shots are still at large.

[mayonnara]

i really wonder if any of you stop to give at least a little bit of a shit

this is one example, by the way. BIG accounts are like this too

they pretend to be agree and be like "THIS!!!" but in the side lines they're doing the same. don't be like these people. if you like something, then puff out your chest and don't be a pussy about it. tell everyone how you're into watching kids shooting other kids.

there's no such thing as not condoning this type of thing. there's no such thing as being a "researcher" when you're clearly just glorifying them and making them "quirky uwu". just say it. say that you're a horrible person. it's easier for everyone.

i always check the little "similar accounts" tab, it's very helpful for finding shitty people.

im putting this in the postal tag because im still getting notifications about tcccunts liking my stuff. since this is a side account i noticed that no matter how many people i block they still have access to my posts, and i don't have access to theirs. tumblr, fix your site.

since im incredibly pissed about this, and i can't sleep, im going to rant.

i think we should change the meaning of "community". are you really part of a community if you got caught in a school shooting, they would be worshiping your shooter? are you really part of a community if you got killed and recorded, people would just be looking at your dead body and laughing instead of being sad? are you really part of a community if you're doing something illegal?

this is why i believe there's no such thing as a true crime community. or a gore community. or anything of the sort.

for me, you're all just as bad as maps, proshippers, terfs, and all that bad bunch.

i think its just common sense that these people should be ridiculed and isolated from any fandom, but here in this fandom? no, it's okay, we'll dickride you because you're different, it's a different thing y'know? stop being so sensitive. respect them.

i swear make it make sense. just, make it make a lick of sense.

it just makes me so angry because the games are satire, they're supposed to be funny and be like "ohh haha ginger man pisses on bodies lmaoo", and nothing is real. even if postal was a game about a teenager that goes on a school shooting and it's extremely realistic and shit, it's still not real. then why would you associate something like that to such horrible things? hell, i HATE shooting games and even i thought postal was kinda fun, i went pacifist for all my playthrough but i made another game file and went exploding the town and killing everyone. you know why i can do that? because its not real. why can't you just leave it at that? don't mix two things that have nothing to do with each other. don't glorify people that hurt real people. that should just be common sense.

oh but may, you drew yourself with postal dude once! you cry, but guess what. IM NOT A SCHOOL SHOOTER AM I NOW

also, i wanted to rant about something that really does piss me off as well. why do artists get a pass when it comes to this shit? or just, anything in general. why is when they post horrible shit, it's alright, but when its someone that doesn't make art, or is a beginner, it's a tomato throwing party? do it to both of them. them being able to draw shouldn't give them a shield to do horrible shit. it shouldn't matter how many followers or how notes they have, hold them accountable for crying out loud. "but they make art i like" and? you're just excusing their behavior, you're excusing what their doing because you "like their art". that's just.. it's just insane to me.

i have never seen a fandom like this. i have been in the genshin fandom, i have been in the south park fandom, i have been in the cookie run fandom, i have been in the onceler fandom, and none of them, absolutely none of them were as bad as this one. i didn't even know that was physically possible.

all of you are like, 19, 23, 24 whatever, you should know better than to excuse this behavior. like i said, puff out your chest and tell everyone how you really are. just say it. don't pretend you're innocent.

you know what's funnier? theres currently the genocide going on in Palestine. and these fuckers be posting about it, #savepalestine! #helppalestine! they don't give two SHITS about it, and you still go and like "oh but they post about Palaestine" they're out there watching people dying and enjoying it, you think they CARE about a GENOCIDE?? it's what they love! seriously, this is just so uguugghhg

my brain can't comprehend someone like this. it just can't.

[a-boca-do-inferno]

trouble with a capital T (tony montana x reader)

summary: (y/n) has an unexpected admirer.

warnings: angst, smut-bit of a size kink? idk u tell me, violence, drugs, abuse, dubcon, blood, swearing, domestic abuse, fluff and a little stalking ig. also tony montana

words: 8.9k

notes: this is toxic asf pls beware when reading it. also reader here is stupid asf for narrative purposes do not be like that irl im begging you. i rly have a concerning taste in men and if someone ever finds this i dont kno any of you <3 enjoy!

There’s this new guy in town who looks like trouble with a capital “T”. Everyone has seen him in person, except (y/n). However, by the stories and theories she hears, the figure of this man becomes even more macabre. Nobody knows his real name. He’s known only as Scarface, which should be an indicator of his perhaps not-so-scary nature, but (y/n) is a bit of a coward, if she’s being honest.  

Still, when the girl thinks of him, she likes to imagine he has his own reasons for doing what people say he does. It is a morally questionable service, certainly illegal—considerably inhumane—, yet something inside of her extends this guy the benefit of the doubt. It’s not an uncommon theme in Florida, anyway, selling drugs and whatnot, so perhaps Scarface isn’t of all bad. He is still surely just a man, right? But when she received Elvira’s messages saying there was a shooting in her neighborhood, and that Scarface was arrested for allegedly taking part in it, (y/n) felt a little overwhelmed about her previous considerations. Even if the guy wasn’t the devil like everyone made him to be, he was a criminal. A violent one at that, putting innocent people’s lives in danger, like her friend’s. 

She couldn’t go see Elvie that day, but (y/n) told her she’d drop by as soon as possible. Elvira sent some pictures of her neighbor’s window with bullet holes, six of them. The neighbor was a man who lived alone and listened to loud music all day on Sundays. Why anyone would have ordered his death, they had no idea. But then again, (y/n) didn’t really trust men who’d hit on women even after being told “no” a couple of hundred times. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if he was a rapist, or a pedophile, or both. Anything was possible nowadays. The neighbor managed to escape the sniper’s attack and left through the back, anyway, and Elvira said he entered the backyard of her house to protect himself. She was really lucky that by that time, the police had already arrived at the scene and readily took the shooter into custody.  

Scarface, according to Elvie’s description, was a short, rustic-looking man. He was white, but sunburned, with a stylish haircut reminiscent of the ‘80s and a shaven face. His eyes were big and dark, with a prominent nose, and there was a scar on his left eye, which obviously earned him the infamous nickname. He walked around with a worn Hawaiian shirt and a white wifebeater under it, the one everybody says he’s always wearing; from the waist down, he had shabby jeans held up by a leather belt and old-fashioned cowboy boots. The kind they used to wear in the Wild West, probably.  

The guy was just an almost cartoonish figure, a villain straight out of some children’s TV show. And still, somehow, he was the terror of this city as of lately. Everyone licked his balls in an attempt to spare their own lives. Uselessly, of course, since he didn’t seem to have any real consideration for anyone or anything, except for money. So, it wasn’t exactly a certainty that he wouldn’t kill any of his so-called “friends” downtown, unless they owned something valuable to him—drugs, for instance. 

And him being detained now, for the hundredth time that month, wasn’t really a relief, since he would soon be out. Because no one could ever catch him in the act—he was a professional, after all—, his stay in the precinct’s modest jail was only for a few hours. At most one night. Five hundred, even a thousand dollars in bail—or a bribe, in fact—was enough for the sheriff to release him with a faithful promise he would see Scarface again the following week. And it was no sooner said than done. 

Nobody knew where he lived. There were rumors his home was in the neighborhood next to (y/n)’s, but it was never confirmed. It also wouldn’t make any difference to know where his residence was. Again: the guy was a professional. Even the mayor licked the floor he walked. But Scarface also had his enemies, obviously. On her block alone there were four or five men who would kill him in broad daylight with their bare hands, if given the chance. She didn’t know the story very well, but it obviously had something to do with settling scores. It always did.  

Scarface, the cowboy-boots and burnt-skin, revolver-stuck-to-spine and walk-of-an-insufferable-bastard Scarface, was the greatest example of how the universe does not give any tips. The divine does not send signs. And when it does, it’s a bullet in the head, right in the middle of your eyebrows. Scarface is the universal clue of at least three people a week, but no one recognizes him as such. They’d rather bow to his feet, fearing for their lives, as if the devil had any sympathy in him in the first place. It was a funny paradox. Furthermore, the universe is also a sneaky son of a bitch. So, of course her brother would get into some trouble and end up in jail. And of course he would ask (y/n) to save his ass as she often did.  

She quickly turned around the way she was making to the supermarket and parked in front of the station, luckily only a few blocks away from her destination. The girl entered the room in silence and wrinkled her nose slightly at the strong smell of pee and cigarettes coming from the back, where the small jail was. In the waiting room, there were only two men sitting with their heads down and a guard in front of the hallway that led to the detainees.  

(y/n) went to talk to the guard and before disappearing, he told her to wait right there. She took a sit as far away from the two ominous-looking men as possible and pretended to be fiddling with her phone. In fact, she was distressed. Despite Manny being known for his little transgressions, he’d never been arrested before, so she had also never been to a police station up until that point. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her fingers were trembling slightly.  

The guard finally returned and she let out a sigh of relief. He handed her some paperwork to fill and she paid the bail in silence. While she gave him her signature, loud voices and laughter could be heard approaching in the hallway next to the waiting room. The laughter was undeniably masculine, a deep voice reverberating through the walls of the quiet police station. (y/n) held her breath as her eyes landed on brown shoes touching the floor. She didn’t dare look up and quickly finished signing the papers, going back to her chair while the guard went to get Manny.  

She stared down at her phone, her heartbeat speeding up again. The disturbing laughter ceased and the girl heard a rattle of keys followed by another clang. A thick accent thanked someone and (y/n) let out her breath, thinking he was leaving at last, but the heavy boots made their way to the water cooler right next to her. She bit her lip and sighed shakily, still not daring to look up. The way he was standing betrayed the lack of care for his spine, as he was unnecessarily leaning too far back. His loud gulps almost made (y/n) roll her eyes, despite her nervousness. He really looked like he came out of a cartoon with such deliberately theatrical behaviour.  

The two men sitting away from her got up at the same time and walked out of the station, leaving just Scarface, another guard who was on the computer, and her. But as she had no luck, a voice called that damn guard and he left them both alone in the waiting room. At that point, (y/n) knew the asshole was just messing around with that glass of water he’d been drinking for the past two minutes. And for that reason, she decided to stand up straight and look at him. There was nothing to fear. She had nothing to do with his drug shenanigans. 

The girl was only still hesitant of Scarface maybe trying to do something inappropriate, but she didn’t have time to run when he threw the cup in the trash and sat down on the empty chair right next to her. That man’s sly smile and predatory gaze made her shiver from head to toe. “Mornin’”, he states, his deep voice very close to her ear.  

(y/n) turned to look at him and kept her expression solemn. “Morning”, she simply replies, and perhaps it comes out too imposing, because Scarface raises his eyebrows and looks at her with some humor.  

“A tough one, huh? Just the way I like it.”  

She wants to laugh at his words, but only shakes her head. “Are you fucking serious? You wish....” 

“I wish what?”, he grabs her face tightly, forcing her to look at him. (y/n) freezes under his touch and can’t hide her panicked expression. He smiles satisfied and moves closer to her. “Your mama never told you not to talk to strangers, huh?”, she tries to pull away from his grip, but he pushes his fingers harder against her cheeks to the point of hurting. “Answer me.”  

“You’re not a stranger, Scarface”, she grins and he lets go of her at last. (y/n) takes a deep breath and clears her throat, checking the time and tucking her phone into her front pocket. Thankfully, Manny’s voice is approaching in the hallway and she gets up, giving the guy a scowl. “I know you think you own this town, but remember you’re still just a guy. Get over yourself.”  

“Oh, I know”, Scarface mutters, smirking like she’d just told him a great joke. He stands up and tries to touch her again, but (y/n) manages to avoid it. He then pulls her closer by the waist for a split second, as the guard and her brother appear in that instant. The man lets go of her quickly, and before he leaves, he flashes her a wink, “have a good day, baby.” 

She watches angrily as Scarface disappears, caressing her aching face. The girl turns around to find Manny with a sorry expression, and she clenches her jaw. “Let’s go”, it’s all she says, walking out of the station without waiting for him. 

♡♡♡ 

A week after that incident, (y/n) never left the house again. Until today, that is; she only went to her brother’s because he was starting to get a little worried about her confinement. She didn’t think of telling him why she was hiding for protection, because the less her family knew about that crazy drug dealer bothering her, the better.  

(y/n) walked out of her car fast so she wouldn’t bump into Scarface on the street by any chance. Although it was pretty unlikely to happen, seeing as he didn’t usually hang out in her neighborhood, but she wouldn’t take any risks. No one besides herself knew what went on in the station and she didn’t intend to tell anyone else. The girl didn’t even know if she should have told anyone in the first place. The guy had this city in his hands. If he wanted to find her, it was a snap of his fingers.  

But of course, (y/n) couldn’t run away forever. And the day she decided she’d go to Manny’s without any fear, while she was sitting on the sofa, that damned thick accent came from the front door. She widened her eyes and got up quickly, but when the girl reached the kitchen door, her scared expression met the man’s pleased one. He was smiling at something her brother was saying, however, as soon as he saw her, the mirth on his features was borderline sickening. Still, he visibly tried to play it cool because Manny was there.  

(y/n) pretended not to care as she made her way to the bathroom and locked herself there, hands shaking violently. She sent millions of desperate messages to Elvira. The voices continued to chatter excitedly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to have Scarface at her brother’s place. Like they were buddies. 

Suddenly there was silence and someone knocked on the bathroom door slowly, barely audible. Her heart raced and she felt a lump forming in her throat, eyes watering without warning. Another knock. She put her phone away and slowly opened the door, not knowing what else to do or where else to go. The man’s intimidating presence greeted her and a victorious grin hovered on his lips. (y/n) looked into the living room for Manny, but there was no one. He seemed to have left for some reason, and she felt her world fall apart.  

The girl stared back at Scarface and he was now serious, examining her body up and down with no shame. “So you’re family, huh?”, he muses, his terrifying voice making her shiver sharply. She sighed and went to sit back in the couch, accompanied by him, who was leaning against the doorway and still gazed at her without blinking. “When they told me you were Manny’s lil’ sis, I couldn’t believe it, baby! But here you are, I guess that makes him my brother-in-law”, he states, content as a child who solves a puzzle. “He told me you live alone, right? I might pay you a visit someday.”  

“Right”, she merely scoffs, attempting her best not to show the shift in her seat hearing his words. 

He smiles macabre, moving his index finger from side to side in denial. “You don’t talk to me like that, tigress. Let’s start there”, he looks around, making sure Manny’s still not there, and approaches her. (y/n) instinctively pulls away and he grabs her face just like before, forcing her to glance at him. “You don’t talk to me like that. Got it?” She doesn’t answer and he squeezes her cheeks even more, making her let out a groan of pain. “Got it?”  

“Got it”, she spits out, begrudgingly.  

(y/n) thinks he’s going to let go, finally, but first he gives her an awkward, aggressive peck on the lips. She instantly shoves him and wipes her mouth to somehow undo that contact. Scarface laughs, “you’re so cute, baby.”  

“What are you doing with my...” 

Manny arrived as soon as she closed her mouth, readily engaging in another conversation with Scarface while ignoring her presence there. They talk about people and places she knew nothing about, it sounded like a bunch of codes, and she gaped at each sentence they exchanged. How the hell did they know each other? What was that asshole doing with her brother?!  

Dinner came and Scarface—his name was never mentioned, for some reason, and she wasn’t about to ask—made a point of sitting next to her, but if Manny noticed their closeness, he didn’t pay any mind. They continued talking through the meal and Manolo chit-chatted (y/n) now and then, forcing her to answer Scarface’s falsely innocent and curious questions about what she was talking about. As if he didn’t already know everything about her life, apparently.  

After helping clean the kitchen, (y/n) said goodbye to her brother. Scarface watched them silently from the sofa and she tried to keep her focus on Manny. “I have some stuff to do at home now, gotta go.” 

“You going alone? It’s late”, he frowns.  

She waves her hand to make light of it. “It’s fine, Manny. It’s a ten minute ride.”  

Manolo shakes his head. “Even so, (y/n), you know this neighborhood ain’t safe. I can’t take you home, but Tony can.”  

So that’s his name.  

Scarface—Tony chimes in, not letting her answer Manny just yet, “c’mon, let’s go. I’ll take you.” 

“It is not necessary. I literally drove here!”, the girl huffs, already taking the first step to leave.  

Manny stops her before she reaches the door. “No, no. It’s too dangerous here at night, you better go with him. C’mon, you take her, Tony. She’s just a little stubborn.”  

(y/n) locks her jaw, but doesn’t say anything.  

“I noticed”, Tony mutters tauntingly, giving her an ambiguous look that surely only she saw. The girl took a deep breath and surrendered, waving goodbye to Manny as she walked with Tony to her car. They strolled in silence to the garage and as soon as she opened the door of the vehicle, he pulled out a little plastic bag from his pocket, full of a white powder. He pointed with his chin at it, raising the object. “I just made some business with your brother today, baby, no worries.”  

(y/n) stared at him confused, but still didn’t say a word. Manolo was really going down an irreversible path, it seemed, and there was nothing she could do about it. With a heavy heart, she could only get in her car and pray she’d make it home safe that night. Scarface followed her and started driving, shooting her a smile or two over his shoulder. Luckily, it wasn’t long until they parked in front of her building. He turned off the ignition and got out of the car with her, obviously inviting himself in.  

Of course.  

(y/n)’d been trying for a few seconds to open the stuck gate and Tony notices her suffering, helping her to complete the task. She doesn’t thank him and simply walks into the house, knowing he’s on her tail. His eyes burn into her back, but she tries not to focus on it while starting to unlock the door. She is greeted by her cats rubbing against her heels and she smiles automatically. Forgetting for a brief moment that Scarface is there, the girl takes the smaller one in her arms, hugging and kissing her soft dark fur. When she puts her down, the man is watching her with an amused expression.  

Her cheeks tingle and (y/n) makes her way to the kitchen, with Tony still following in silence. She pours herself a glass of water and offers it to him next, which he accepts, still staring at her with the same predatory demeanor. He’s going to try to do something ugly to her, obviously, and she is trying not to think about it, but it’s getting harder and harder. If she screams, no one will hear her. Fortunately or not, she has no neighbor on her floor. She makes a mental list of what objects she can throw at his head to make him pass out like in the movies; a brand new moisturizer that is full; a makeup bag; her favorite pan. If she is quick enough, maybe she can lock him in her room and call the police. 

(y/n) snaps out of her thoughts when Tony approaches her behind the counter, while she still holds a glass of water. She is staring at his chest when he calmly takes it from her hands and offers her a smile. She tries to hide her trembling fingers from his vision, but he notices them and takes her palm in his, raising it to her eye level.  

“Not so tough now, huh?”, he mocks, making (y/n) bite her own tongue so she doesn’t give him a sharp answer and gets punched because of it. He kisses her fingertips softly, catching her off guard. Tony notices her confused expression and grins again, lowering his face to bring it closer to hers. “What, you think I was gonna keep scaring you off? I’m not that bad, baby.” 

“If you say so.” She mutters reflexively, regretting it right away when his dangerous orbs fall on her. She sighs and looks away. “Sorry.” 

He nods approvingly. “Good girl.”  

There is an old gouache paintbrush she could use to pierce through his neck in case it gets bad. The glass pitcher is over the sink. (y/n) looks at the table and there’s a fork and a spoon. The big knife is in the drawer— 

Tony lets go of her hand and walks to her room. She listens to the sound of his wooden soles echoing against the tile floor a little astonished, before following him. She opens the door, which creaks imposingly through the empty, closed house, and her heart skips a beat when she hears the mattress shift, indicating he has settled into her bed.  

(y/n) is in front of her window to open it, but before she can do it, his arms wrap around her from behind and pull her away from it. She widens her eyes and tries to pull away, however, the grip tightens. She starts to shake more aggressively and an agonized scream leaves her mouth, causing his hand to slam against it, muffling the sound. She looks desperately at Tony and he’s signaling her to be quiet. Panic takes over her body and she gives up trying to get out of his grip. He seems happy with this decision and removes his palm from her lips, laying her body down on the bed and straddling her, legs wrapping around her waist as his knees sink into the mattress.  

Her eyes water and she closes them tightly, waiting for the inevitable. (y/n) remains like this for a few seconds, but nothing happens. She thinks maybe Tony has given up on what he wanted to do, however, when she opens her eyes again, his face is hovering over hers. His brown eyes are scrutinizing the girl minutely, there’s not a single vestige of that villainous smile that lives on his lips. She returns his gaze and they stare at each other in silence. His elbows are propped up against the mattress and his hands are still gripping her arms, holding them in place, but with no force.  

(y/n) wants to ask him what he’s doing, but the thought leaves her mind as soon as he takes a gun out of his pants. She screams in desperation, “help! Help! Someone help me!”  

“Shhh. Hey, calm down!”, Tony puts his hand over her mouth yet again, holding her down so she’ll stop her kicking. She watches, still horrified, as he places the gun on the chair beside her bed. “I’m not killing you, baby, calm down”, there’s a smirk on his features that makes her stomach turn. “Yet”, he adds, taking his palm away from her trembling lips. (y/n) tries to get up, but he pushes her back down. “I ain’t killing you, but I’m gonna do other things.” 

“No, no, please...” 

She can’t finish her pleas as his full lips crash onto hers, now in a kiss deeper and less brusque than the peck from earlier. The girl tries to resist at first, but soon her body speaks louder and she ends up giving in to the contact. She lets out an involuntary groan as his rough fingers lift the hem of her shirt, almost like an animal in heat. Damn hormones, she thinks in the back of her mind, not really caring for that much when his fingertips send shivers through her skin.  

Tony pulls apart so he can remove her garment, smirking at her bra-covered breasts. She blushes terribly. “You’re so cute, baby.” 

He kisses her again and (y/n) reciprocates vehemently this time, wrapping her legs around his waist tightly. His lips trace down her neck and she faintly laughs at the little tickle there, making him lift his face to look at her intently. There’s something different in his eyes, almost adoration, but she can’t finish the thought as he unbuttons her pants and unceremoniously pulls them down, leaving the girl in her underwear.  

Tony drops to his knees on the bed and shrugs off his iconic floral shirt and wifebeater. (y/n) can’t help but smile seeing his near-athletic pecs and gets on her knees too, silently volunteering to strip him out of his own pants. He watches closely as she unzips his jeans and unbuttons them, sliding them down his toned thighs. Tony finishes getting rid of the piece and goes back to kissing her neck urgently, leaving more aggressive caresses in place. A chill travels her spine when his member bumps into her stomach and she squeezes his arm reflexively, catching his attention.  

“You good?”, he asks, sounding so worried he seems to be another man completely different from the Scarface criminal who’s been with her until now.  

She simply nods and lets out another moan as his lips descend to the gap between her breasts, leaving sinuous kisses all the way down. He licks at the sweat accumulated there and kisses her again; a salty, icy kiss. A hand finds her face and trails her cheek lightly, while his tongue invades her mouth shamelessly. His touch is so gentle it looks absolutely nothing like the man who bruised her face twice with his brute strength. Tony gropes down her back and unbuckles her bra, making the girl shiver as he grips her nipple. Soon, he pays attention to them with his mouth and she bites her lip so as not to make too much noise. Still nibbling at the sensitive skin on her breasts, his deft hands slide down her panties and her face heats up violently.  

He slips two fingers into her without blinking an eye. (y/n) arches her back and blurts out a high-pitched groan, which had him chuckling, turning her on even more as his thick voice vibrated against her nipple. When his tongue meets her clit, the feeling is indescribably divine. She’s now a carefree mess of moans and ragged breathing. Tony’s hands grip her hips strongly, holding back her unconscious thrusts.  

He lifted his face again before she came, his chin visibly wet. “Got protection, baby?”  

“No”, she lets out an incredulous laugh. “I never did that, I didn’t have to...” 

“Right”, he says thoughtfully, as if just connecting the dots now. Tony fumbles in his pockets and doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for, so he looks back at her. “I got nothing on me either.”  

“What now?”  

They exchange a silent look and he shrugs, getting back on top of her body. “Now I’m pulling out y qué sea lo que Dios quiera.”  

(y/n) is going to protest, but Tony takes off his boxers and invades her without warning, causing her to groan in pain. He soon notices her expression and stands statue over the girl, waiting for her to recover. Tears form in her eyes once again and he leaves light kisses on her cheek, trying to calm her down. She smiles softly at the delicate and unexpected gesture. Soon she’s ready and he starts to move, gradually increasing the pace.  

The solemn creak of the bed is the only sound besides their gasping breaths and moans she can’t contain. Every now and then his golden chain hits her chin, however it doesn’t hurt, it’s but a little friction. His big hands are squeezing her breasts as he speeds up the movements little by little. (y/n) looks to the side and sees the revolver on the pink chair, the contrast of that scene making her want to laugh. She returns her attention to Tony and he’s got his eyes closed, mouth open, leaving wet kisses all over her cleavage. He’s dripping with sweat, just like her.  

He takes her lips again and only then does she return to the moment, losing herself in her own pleasure and letting the orgasm overtake her without precedent. Next up is Tony, who comes with a husky moan and one last kiss. He lets his body slide off hers, pulling out his cock while his cum paints them both. (y/n) kisses his face after the effect of orgasm and he returns the caress, pulling her into a fairly tight hug. She smiles at the contact and lets him hold her there for a few minutes. They’re silent the entire time, until he pulls the sheet from under the pillow to cover them. Tony and her exchange indecipherable, sinuous looks, and that’s when her penny drops. She just had sex with a criminal.  

Jesus. 

“This shouldn’t have happened”, she say abruptly, sitting up.  

Tony also sits down and shrugs.  “But it did. So what?”  

“So it won’t happen again!”, (y/n) exclaims in annoyance, not caring that this man has a gun and isn’t afraid to use it at all. “You need to go.”  

“Already? You just wanna use me and throw me away, huh? Now that’s cold, baby”, she rolls her eyes at his mockery and stares at the wall as he stands beside the bed, his stuff swaying back and forth. “Hey”, he calls, but she doesn’t answer. He then touches her chin and gives her a lingering, incredibly soft peck. She sighs as Tony pulls away and there’s a gentle smile on his face as he puts on his clothes. “You’re cute, (y/n).”  

“Thanks”, she timidly blurts out, not really knowing what to say. The girl looks for her underwear and tenses up as she watches him handle his revolver, placing it on his back again.  

He notices this. “I ain’t hurting you with that gun, you know? You can relax.”  

“Even if you don’t use it against me, it’s still a weapon”, she mutters seriously, turning her back to him so he can buckle her bra.  

He does the task and hugs her from behind, kissing her locks. “You don’t have to be afraid of anything with me, baby, not even a weapon.” 

She turns to face him, hugging his waist lightly. Tony gets serious all of a sudden and lets out a long breath as he finally releases her. He checks his pocket and fixes his messy hair in the small mirror on top of the dresser. Before leaving, they exchange one last look. None of them says a word. (y/n) watches him disappear behind the gate and looks around the empty house, returning to her room and closing the door. She stares at the completely messed up bed and the sheet painted by drops of blood and sperm, which they shared for a few seconds, now on the floor. Ha.  

Trouble with a capital “T”. 

♡♡♡ 

Two weeks after the incident, (y/n) didn’t go to her brother’s house anymore. But Elvira, being such a pain in her ass sometimes, had practically bullied her into going out tonight.  She was anxious, it’d been a while since she went out to have fun like this. Her fear of bumping into Tony—Scarface wasn’t exactly as strong as before, for obvious reasons, but she’d still rather not take her chances in finding him again. No matter how good his dick game was, he was a dangerous individual. Better to stay away. 

So, for the record; she fucked a hitman and was most likely falling in love with him, maybe even reciprocally, just after he got violent with her several times. Elvie obviously didn’t know about it yet, but what would she do when that time inevitably came? Because (y/n) was going to tell her, no doubt. She couldn’t keep it all to herself forever, hiding it from everyone like it was some sort of crime. Elvira would probably call her crazy and even threaten to lock her up in an asylum, wanting to choke Tony if it was as much as hinted he laid his hand on her. And she wasn’t even wrong for that! 

But what about her family? God, if her father knew... He’d go after Tony’s blood. He would simply never look her in the face again, especially since their relationship was already fragile enough because of Manolo. And what of her reputation? All of Miami would talk about this. She’d be the new bitch on the block for sure. No one would respect her, she’d become a joke. Not that she cared about what those people think of her, but it would be nice to stay anonymous. It was safe, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

With a heavy sigh, (y/n) finished getting ready and stared at her reflection, smiling faintly. Perhaps it was best to let those corrosive thoughts for tomorrow’s hangover. She��grabbed her bag and locked her apartment, walking down the deserted street. As the club was close to her house, there was no reason for anyone to come and get her, so she’d go alone with no worries. It wasn’t like anyone was going to do anything to her on her quiet neighborhood, anyway, much less on the weekend. Plus, criminals in this town had a schedule and they liked to stick to it. At least the ones who grew up there. 

Already approaching the place, she saw Elvira with some of her friends waiting for her in the line. They greeted each other and entered the club, going for a table next to the bar. (y/n) immediately asked for a strong drink to try and calm down her nerves, feeling rather unfit for that environment after such a long time away from it. At the first glass, she felt lighter and smiling, pulling Elvie to the dance floor.  

They’re dancing and laughing like idiots when a tall man approaches them. He is moving to the song and calmly smoking a cigarette while he watches the girls, eyes glued to (y/n)’s form in specific. She doesn’t hear a word Elvira is saying over the music as she stares back at the guy, so distracted she accidentally knocks over a waiter’s tray behind her, making a huge mess. (y/n) apologizes quickly and starts clumsily picking things up on the floor, while the mysterious guy crouches down and helps her with it. She smiles shyly and they finish fixing everything in place.  

She thanks him softly and turns to go back to her table, but he grabs her arm gently. “In a hurry?”, he questions playfully, an amused smile on his full lips.  

She blushes. “Oh, no, I was just…”  

He shakes his head. “You’re a little shy, I can see that. Let’s put an end to this shyness now, come with me!”, he walks off, dragging her to the bar. “So, what’s your name?”, he asks, signaling for the bartender to bring them two beers.  

“(y/n).”  

“Frank, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Their drinks arrive and they make a toast, while she takes a big swig. Frank smiles and pulls her by the waist, taking her by surprise. “Lost your shyness yet?” 

“I...” 

He attacks her lips before she can finish, leaving a wet, beer-tasting kiss on her mouth. (y/n) has to make a tremendous effort not to drop the beer from her hand, making way for his tongue to explore every corner of her mouth. Frank separates them just to take another sip of his drink and starts kissing her neck. Elvira’s eyes from afar give her a surprised and mischievous look. She flashes her a smug smile, but as soon as she does, her friend’s expression completely shuts down and now it’s one of sheer panic. (y/n) frowns and turns to look at where she’s staring so terrified.  

She’s greeted by Tony’s aggressive hands pulling her away from Frank in a sudden movement. He drags her out of the man’s arms, keeping her behind his body. Tony then hits him with his fist. (y/n) widens her eyes with the amount of punches Tony is throwing at Frank and tries to get him off the guy, but he pushes her away. She looks around and people surround them, watching the fight in silence and astonishment, however no one moves a finger to help break it up. Of course. It’s Scarface.  

No one would dare stop him.  

Frank managed to leave a blow on Tony’s stomach, but he couldn’t dodge another punch to the jaw and fell to the ground, looking dizzy. When she thought Tony would back down and leave it at that, he went over to Frank’s body on the floor and striking him wildly again. She was desperate for help to separate them, but nobody did anything. (y/n) tried to pull Tony away from him and he pushed her once more, only this time she didn’t give up so easily. She grabbed his arm with all the strength of a slightly intoxicated person and made him look at her. The fury in his eyes slowly seemed to soften and he dropped Frank’s semi-conscious body. 

Once on his feet, Tony looks around him, menacingly showing his gun tucked into his pants. Everyone scatters like startled ants immediately, without him having to say a word. When they’re alone, he glances at Frank one more time and looks back at (y/n). His anger seems to have returned.  

“I wish I done that to you”, he begins, his thick voice making her shiver. She takes a step back, but he grabs her by the neck and pulls her close again. “Lucky for you, I’m doing good lately, baby. So I’m generous, you know? But you both should be fucking dead now.” (y/n)’s hands start to shake and her eyes water instantly at his words, fear taking over her entire body. She tries to free herself from his grip, but he won’t let her. He continues, “you are mine. Ain’t no one touching you but me from now on. Got it?” 

“Yes”, she chokes, tears falling down her face uncontrollably.  

Tony, however, doesn’t seem to feel any remorse for her deplorable state. Finally his hand lets go of her neck and she takes a deep breath, sobs leaving her throat aggressively. (y/n) gets as far away as possible and before she knows it, she’s running away. He doesn’t come after her, which she mentally thanks. She felt so scared and angry at that moment that she couldn’t think of anything but running, running for her life.  

♡♡♡ 

(y/n) got home and locked the door thoroughly. She isolated in her room and cried herself to sleep. It was dawn when she managed to close her eyes and rest for a few hours, only to be woken up by a loud noise outside the next day. There were loud bangs on the door, nearly knocking it over. Her breath hitched and she made sure to lock the bedroom door. Maybe she could just pretend nobody was home.  

Another banging thud, now it sounded like someone jumping on the floor. Then there was yet another furious knocking, this time on the front door. Her stomach turned. A bang on the window echoed in her ears and (y/n) began to cry profusely, sobbing in terror. A crash startled her and her eyes widened seeing the wooden blinds breaking in front of her.  

She unlocked the bedroom door in a second and ran behind her apartment, opening the kitchen door as it lead to emergency stairs. Footsteps approached once she managed to get out and run across someone’s yard. She looked for somewhere low enough for her to reach so she could climb, finding a little doghouse in the corner. There wasn’t anybody or anything around, thankfully. However, as soon as she started to take off, big arms grabbed her waist from behind, pulling down her body violently.  

She kicked as hard as she could, but Tony wouldn’t let go. He towed her back into her house and locked the kitchen door, dragging her by the arm back to her room. He threw the girl on the bed without any delicacy and looked at her from where he was standing. She continued to cry copiously, all her strength quickly draining away. (y/n) crouched close to the headboard and watched him sit on the far side, studying her in silence.  

“Crying ain’t doing you no good, baby.” She turns her face to the wall and he walks in her direction, crawling until he’s next to her. He whispers in her ear, “you can’t win for losing.” 

“Shut up!”, she pushes him away, taking Tony by surprise. He looks at her with raised eyebrows, but he doesn’t look annoyed.  

He looks pleased.  

“C’mon, now”, Tony approaches again, grabbing her chin to make her eyes stay on his. “Now, now you look like the fucking girl I met in that station. Badass baby”, (y/n) tries to pull away, but he doesn’t let her and gives her a forced peck. His stubble scratches her face and she grimaces, dodging and breaking the contact. This seems to irritate him deeply, because in the next second, his palm meets the soft skin of her cheek and the sensation burns. Tony pointed in her direction, warning, “don’t you ever do that again.”  

“I do whatever the hell I want”, she spits out, not caring about the consequences at this point.  

He gets hold of her neck, glaring. “No. You do what I want, you bitch.” 

(y/n) smirks, mockingly. “You think you’re offending me? How cute.”  

Tony then slaps her again, this time much harder, and she laughs out loud at his fragile ego. She pulls herself together and faces him again, pretending not to be shaken. Tears have dried under her eyes and she only cracks a half smile, taking in his scowling features. “You men are such a joke, so easy to figure out.”  

“Careful, baby”, he says in a warning tone, making her chuckle once more.  

“Who do I have to be careful with, you?”, she asks smugly, smacking the hand he lifted to squeeze her neck again. Tony is surprised, although he’s trying really hard not to show it. “You...”, she continues, lightly touching the collar of his shirt. “Who would never hurt me with a gun?”, (y/n) mimics his thick voice. He seems to get annoyed at that and takes her hand away from where it was, which makes her smile victoriously.  

Okay, so it’s not so bad having a criminal with a crush on her.  

“Shut up”, he orders.  

She simply shrugs and brings her face closer to his. Tony places a gentle kiss on her lips and excitement burns inside her as his palm goes straight to her ass, squeezing it. “Hold up, cowboy”, (y/n) mutters, although not really caring about his impatience. “Wanna explain to me what was that about last night?”  

“Told you, you’re mine.” He reiterates casually, trying to pull her onto his lap and kiss her, but she doesn’t allow it. Tony frowns again, speaking with a heavy accent, “what is it now?”  

“You almost killed the guy”, (y/n) points out. She didn’t want to make him feel remorseful or anything, she knew he just wouldn’t; it was all on her curiosity about the sick psychology in his head. She touches the collar of his shirt again and looks into his eyes, the most sincere she’s been so far, and practically begs, “what do you want from me, Tony?”  

Something very similar to confusion runs through his brown orbs, but it’s only for a millisecond, as he looks at her sternly right after. His hands remain promptly by each side of his body, and it makes her a little bit relieved he’s respecting her wishes. It’s a start. 

Of what exactly, (y/n)?  

“I want you, baby”, he says. His voice doesn’t betray any kind of vulnerability, though his gaze conveys less solemnity than his words. She watches him in silence until her eyes inevitably water. Tony frowns and touches her face quickly, holding her like she was the most delicate thing in the world. “What is it?”  

How can he not see? How does he have the courage to even ask what happened? Or are his actions merely impulsive and completely thoughtless, is that it? Does he not know that he was just hurting, hitting her? Does he not know that he was just insulting (y/n) and treating her like a goddamn worthless object? Because the same hands that slapped her cheek minutes ago are now hugging her and stroking her back, as if in an attempt to ease her loud sobs.  

She hears his voice in her ear, soothing, kissing her neck lightly. Maybe it’s all a dream, a hallucination in her head as she’s unconscious with this man doing God-knows-what to her. But it is not. His touch is as real as it was the last time, his pleasure intertwining with hers in a magnificent, if improvised, dance. And it’s as real as the first time their lips met, in a sheer display of power and dominance on his part, but which now reminded her only of a caress exchanged between two lovers. A comfort.  

“(y/n)...”, his deep voice calls again, however her eyes are glazed over the shattered window in front of her. He lifts her face to look at him and there’s a kind of desperation in his expression, even if it’s held back by pride greater than his own ego, if that’s possible. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“I know.” She hears herself speak, sort of in reflex, since it was true. She knew deep down he didn’t mean to hurt her. Maybe at first, yes, but then... Following that afternoon, a new chapter of this crazy story began to unfold. And they are entering one more after last night.  

“It’s true”, he reenforces, and (y/n) really wishes she had the strength to tell him that it’s okay, she understood, but the truth is that she was tired. Sold out. It had been so long since she had slept or eaten anything and she felt her limbs giving up on supporting her body at any moment. “(y/n)”, Tony insists, yet his voice is already a low sound that becomes more and more distant in her mind.  

Soon she doesn’t feel anything anymore.  

♡♡♡ 

The first time (y/n) opens her eyes, everything is blurry. On the second attempt, she notices a figure sitting on the chair beside her bed and a dim light coming from the window. On the third blink, she realized she had probably passed out—for how long was her first question, as the sun outside seemed to point at one or two in the afternoon.  

Tony was silently watching her as she positioned herself and felt her head almost explode into a thousand pieces. Her throat was dry, an unparalleled taste of shit in her mouth reminding her she hadn’t even brushed her teeth due to everything that had happened that day since she woke up. A sigh escaped her lips and (y/n) closed her eyes again, giving up on her efforts to sit up against the headboard. She felt so weak. Her fingers were trembling slightly and she was freezing to death, even with the sun at its peak and all the covers over her on the bed. She felt dizziness enveloping her body and thought she was going to faint again, but a large, rough, careful hand touched her arm.  

Tony looked hesitant, worried, recluse even. His eyes didn’t leave hers for a second and she felt slightly invaded, undressed as his irises watched over her without blinking. She stared at his palm on her forarm and tried to calm down, although her heart hammered inside her chest. “You didn’t eat anything today, did you?”, he asks, but it’s a rhetorical question.  

Tony then leaves her alone, not waiting for an answer, and returns with a plate in one hand and a glass in the other. (y/n) stares at the image in front of her and feels like chukling, but she contains herself. Instead, she sits up with some difficulty as he hands her the meal, returning to his rightful place on the pink chair. She takes a couple of bites and a huge relief rushes through her body as the food reaches her stomach. It had been almost a day since she had anything to eat. She didn’t even know how she didn’t vomit her ass off with all the alcohol she had last night.  

The girl sipped the juice as she paid more attention to her surroundings. Tony took care of her while she was unconscious and even cooked. He, the hitman who scared even the most dangerous gangsters in Miami, cooked her a stroganoff and made her an orange juice. It sounded like a scene from a sugary romance movie.  

“It’s just a hangover”, she finally speaks up, her throat still a little dry.  

“It’s not”, Tony turns around and sits leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at her intently. She gazes at her plate and continues to eat in silence, while he continues, “I’m real sorry, (y/n).” If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have spit out her juice in surprise. (y/n) glanced at him completely horrified, as if he had confessed to an atrocity. Tony stays with the same solemn expression, a little less proud now.  

“For what?”, a shiver runs down her legs. She didn’t want to be insistent, but curiosity was killing her inside.  

Tony, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered by the question. “For hitting you. And for doing all of that last night.”  

“You shouldn’t apologize to me for what you did”, she mutters bitterly. 

Tony only shrugs. “I didn’t mean to hit you.” He repeats, and she closes her eyes when all that tangle of feelings hits her chest once more. He reaches over and takes her hand, giving her a pleading look. “I swear I ain’t ever laying a finger on you again, baby. You gotta believe me.”  

Her eyes water involuntarily and she holds his hand back firmly, looking at him with a half-broken smile, trying in vain to give him some comfort. “I know”, she begins, voice cracking at the end. “I know, okay? You were angry. I understand.”  

Tony scowls and shakes his head. “No. (y/n), that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t...” 

“I know. It was wrong, Tony, I know, but you didn’t think straight. And neither did I, actually. It happened, there’s no reason to dwell on it. Everything is fine, really.” She looks into his eyes once more and smiles when he nods after a while, still a little hesitant. The girl brings his hand to her lips and kisses it slowly.  

He smiles weakly. “You scared the fuck out of me, you know”, he mumbles, and there’s a hint of desperation in his voice. “I thought I did something to make you pass out. The fear, I don’t know...”  

“That wasn’t it. I’m not afraid of you, Tony”, she assured him, since it wasn’t a total lie. When he was just him, without that domineering, abusive criminal side, she wasn’t afraid of Tony. No longer. (y/n) sighs and finishes her meal, setting her plate on the table beside her, feeling considerably better. “Come here”, she extends her arms to him and Tony goes without blinking, hiding his face in her neck and lying with her on the bed.  

She didn’t know exactly what that meant. Having sex with a murderer who only mistreated her already wasn’t so understandable, but having some kind of relationship with him? It sounded pathetic in her mind. It’s not like he would even want anything to do with her besides sex, but she couldn’t believe that as the seconds went by and he kissed her neck so softly, apologizing endlessly for his transgressions, mumbling that he would never hurt her again, that she’d never need to be afraid of him again...  

Her head was going to explode.  

(y/n) looked down to meet his gaze and stroked his hair, smiling like a lovestruck idiot. She just couldn’t believe this was happening—and somehow she did. Because of course she wouldn’t resist for long. Even when she was shaking like a leaf, still she couldn’t fight his caresses, imagine it now that Tony seems so willing to make up for all his mistakes? 

“Antonio...”, he mutters, barely audible, making her frown. He gives her a small smile and kisses her, mumbling against her lips, “my name.” 

“Really?”, (y/n) asks in disbelief, since now she was probably the only person in town who got that information, but Tony seemed more than comfortable sharing it with her.  

He’s still looking at her with the same little smile on his face. “Really. Why?” He lifts his body to rest on one arm, staring at the girl with some amusement.  

She grins and kisses him again, leaving several pecks on his stubble. “For nothing. It’s just a really nice name.”  

Her eyebrows dance and he laughs, making her insides melt at the sound of his laughter. It was the first time she heard it and she didn’t want to hear any other sound for the rest of her life. It was such a full 180 from the big, bad Scarface. 

(y/n) knew “I want you” was very far from “I love you”, but that knowledge didn’t stop her heart from skipping a beat whenever she remembered those words. Besides, even if the latter was the case, it was just never going to be that simple with Tony. She looked at his sparkling brown eyes and let out a deep, dreamy sigh. She was down hard for that dangerous, dangerous man, yet there was nothing but softness inside of her as he held her into his arms. What he did away from her could be as ugly as it came to be, and it still would never compare to how warm she was in his presence—be it for the anger, for the lust or for the comfort he made her feel. So, it was fine. She could handle it.  

She’s always been a bit of a troubleshooter, anyways. 

[bondsmagii]

Last night I was getting ready to go to bed (it was pretty late, I had homework to finish) when my friend sent me a bunch of very gore picture (about 30-40), not sure if it all was real gore, but I know that one picture was (I recognized it because that photo made it to the news although it was censored). Obviously I was kinda scared and asked what was going on but received no answer.

The next day at school she apologized and told me she had taken a new sleeping pills her aunt gave her. I get sleeping pills can make you do weird stuff, but what I'm most concerned of is why the hell did she have so many gore picture saved in her phone to begin with (they were really explicit photos, I'm talking about beheadings, people without their skin, mutilations, etc. They were so gorey I wanted to throw up). I'm really worried about her and honestly for anyone close to her since she's a school shooting apologist (her reasoning is that the students and school had it coming and deserved it because sometimes the shooters were bullied), this was the main reason I started talking to her less but now I'm worried for her. Should I do something? Should I talk to the school counselor? I don't get along with her parents, but should I try talking to them? Maybe I'm just overreacting, but I don't think having that kind of pictures or justifying shootings is a normal behavior and to me it looks like a huge red flag.

Also, I'm sorry of I made errors, I'm not the best with English.

alright, you came to a pretty well-qualified person here. not only am I a gore connoisseur, but I also research school shootings academically. I've spoken to several would-be shooters, and only twice have things ever escalated to the point where I had to get law enforcement involved. it's a delicate subject, but there are a few questions you can ask yourself to help you decide.

first, the gore. try not to be too alarmed about that. gore is very easy to come by. you can find it on Reddit; it's not like you have to go onto the deep web or access illegal sites or anything like that. Google with SafeSearch off can provide you with some fucked up shit. the fact is, there's a lot of people out there who have an interest in gore. I'm one of them. I find it interesting, and I'm curious about the effects of things on the human body. I'm not interested in watching videos of murders or executions, because the actual human suffering is not what I'm there for. but photographs of accident aftermaths, etc, I find interesting and I am not the only one. contrary to what a lot of people online might think, this is not a moral flaw. looking at gore does not necessarily mean that someone is fucked up or planning violence.

however, sometimes looking at gore -- especially for young people -- can be a sign of issues. not that they're going to commit violence, necessarily, but for a lot of people struggling with mental illness, low mood, low empathy, etc, looking at gore is a way to feel something. it causes feelings of disgust, or discomfort, or curiosity, or some combination, which is better than the numbness they usually feel. this isn't true across the board -- some people might just be genuinely interested -- but if there are other signs of mental distress, it's something to look out for. your friend might have genuinely messed up because of her new medication, or she might have done it deliberately to get a reaction out of you, or to worry you (essentially a cry for help). she absolutely should not have done it, and I'm sorry you had to see that if it's something you don't like -- I have no doubt that these images can be genuinely traumatising. but the fact that she has access to these pictures is not, in itself, anything to worry about. they really are everywhere, if you know where to look.

now, regarding the school shooting thing. you said you're at school, so I'm assuming you're minors. a fascination with such things is not uncommon among young people who are having a rough time. I can tell immediately that your friend is not deeply researching these incidents, because she has the complete wrong idea -- very rarely are shooters bullied in the conventional way that high school movies make you think, and while bullying is a factor in some cases, it's much more complex than that. a general idea and assumption over these cases tells me she's not obsessed with the topic, and likely is relating more to the idea of feeling outcasted and dissatisfied than the violence. it's a power fantasy -- these kids got shit and gave shit back. there's nothing wrong with those in of themselves, even if she does have the complete wrong idea.

the questions you have to ask yourself are the following:

has she made any serious threats herself?

does she have access to weapons?

is she suicidal?

feeling suicidal on its own is not a warning sign that she might commit violence, but in tandem with the other two, might be a further sign. these kinds of shootings are, in essence, suicides.

the most important one to focus on is if she has any access to weapons. as a minor, she can't buy her own legally. does her family have weapons? does anyone she has regular contact with have weapons? could she steal them without being noticed? if not, then it is highly unlikely that this will happen, even if she has made outright threats.

as for the threats, there's a difference between blowing off steam and making an actual threat. a threat has specifics -- times, weapons, detailed fantasy, and often specific victims. she might hint and then be secretive, or she might be obsessed with the idea of violence. this is a difficult one to get down, because a lot of people make off colour jokes or say things when they're mad that they do not mean. but most school shooters leak information about their own plans, either because they can't help bragging or they don't want to do it and they're hoping they get caught. any preoccupation with specifics is absolutely worth worrying about.

looking at the evidence right now, it seems that she's in a bad mental place and she's channeling some of it through dark subjects -- perfectly normal. the only major thing wrong with this is her sending you gore without your wanting to see it, but it's up to you to decide if that was a medication thing, or if she did it deliberately. the fact is, she's clearly going through something rough right now, and she needs support. of all the potential shooters I've spoken to, support and understanding was the main thing that talked them down. this isn't your responsibility, unless you do decide that you want to remain friendly with her. however, it's clear that the support that should be around her is not there. unfortunately it's not as simple as telling her parents or the school counsellor, because this can sometimes make things worse -- especially when it comes to the subject of school shootings.

if she isn't close to her parents, I would not involve them at all. if it were me, I would probably talk to her myself and try to make her voluntarily talk to the school counsellor, where she can say whatever she feels like. if she refused, and I was genuinely worried about her wellbeing, I would likely talk to a trusted teacher and leave out the school shooting part, instead saying that she seemed troubled and I was worried about her. however, I'm obviously coming at things from an outside perspective.

of course, it goes without saying that if you honestly suspect her of having an active plan to carry out violence, you need to report it right away. from what you've said, and the simple fact she's a girl, I don't think it's likely (this is far, far more common in boys). but again, I'm not actively involved in the situation, so I can't say for sure. hopefully what I've said will give you a better basis to assess the danger from, and I'm sorry that you're in such a stressful position. if there's anything I can further help with or clear up for you, just let me know.

[house-of-cakes]

Jamais Vu 

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Chapter 17:  Gimme! Gimme! Gimme

Jungkook x Reader: enemy to lovers AU

Word count: 2164

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of slight bullying

Premise: “There’s an opposite to déjà vu. They call it jamais vu. It’s when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger… Nothing is ever familiar” – Chuck Palahniuk, Choke

AKA Jungkook goes in search of the girl who got him expelled.

I feel so bad posting late that I wrote a bonus chapter 😅 the extra chapter will be out this weekend.

If you would like to give feedback or be tagged in this story please send me an ask/message 😊

Tagged list: @inspinkyring @betysotelo18 @kardia-apo-marmelada @casspirit0705 @preciouschimine @therealsugababe  @lucedelsole97 @deolly @lexy9716  @thesweetest-peas @sannsia​

Bright flashing lights…catchy retro theme songs…the loud cheers of victory from teenage boys and girls defeating their opponents – these were the ingredients that made up Y/N’s favourite place in the world. While Namjoon found comfort on the stage, she felt most at home under the glowing neon lights of Reload.

A few years ago, Y/N had found the arcade a by chance after she had “run away” from home. She had just had an argument with her mother about her appearance and after countless moments of nagging and insults she had finally snapped and left home without permission…it was her first act of rebellion.  

Y/N’s mother was fixated on looks and how a “lady” should behave and present themselves. She always claimed that Y/N she be focusing on her physical imagine instead of having her face hidden behind a computer screen. It killed her mother that her youngest child spent all of her free time working in a place she deemed to be so juvenile. Y/N knew this for a fact and if she was being honest it only added to the appeal of working there. The job didn’t pay much nonetheless she loved it just as much as she did the Magic Shop.

A young boy runs through the arcade and finds Y/N sat on top of an air hockey table (a privilege that only she was allowed). Her attention is focused on her phone, trying to keep tabs on her best friends who are working a job without her. It was not very often that she could not attend an appointment however her elderly boss had caught a cold and there was no one else to cover the busy Friday night shift.

“Noona.” The soft whimper of the young boy catches her attention. “What’s wrong, buddy?” She jumps off the table and kneels so that she is eye level with the child “A-an older-r b-boy…” his words are choppy as his small body shakes with sobs “Stole my game.” “That wasn’t very nice of him. Can you point him out so Noona can have a chat with him.” The little boy continues to whimper but with some comforting words of reassurance and 5 free game tokens, she is able to convince him to point in the direction of the most popular first-person shooter game towards the back of the arcade.

“Thank buddy, that was very brave of you. I promise you in 10 minutes the game will be free for you to play.” She wipes the last of his tears and ruffles his hair for good measure “Come find me soon, ok?” The boy sniffling boy nods as Y/N quickly makes her way to the other side of the room.

At the game Y/N stands off to the side of the machine and pauses to analyse the teenage boy and his skill. The teen would get easily flustered each time a surge of villains would rush after his character and he would frequently let out a string of cuss words whenever he missed his mark, he was an amateur and it showed.

Suddenly his life bar at the top right of he screen started flashing, indicating that his game would soon end if he was not careful with his energy. This must have been enough motivation for him to focus better because his kill streak went from 3 to 9 in almost an instance.  A wicked plan formed in Y/N’s head as she he went in for the last shot of the level.

“Hey!” she called out to him causing him to flinch and miss his target. This caused a fatal error as the enemy on screen took the opportunity to shoot his character right in the face. The teen let out a sound of frustration as the screen read ‘Game Over’ in giant letters and request more tokens to continue. Y/N waited for him to insert the coins before making her presence known in front of him.

“You stupid bitch! You made me lose my game.” He grumbled and lift his gun to continue playing. Y/N reached over to the power point behind the game and switched it off.

“Get the fuck out of my arcade.” She spat and point towards the exit “Reload has a strict no bullying policy so don’t think for a second you’re getting a refund on those tokens.” The teen didn’t bother arguing, he has realised his mistake when he figured out who she was and walked away looking rather embarrassed he had been called out in front of everyone on a busy Friday night. He was sure his class mates would all be talking about it come Monday morning.

The screen of the machine flickered back to life as Y/N switched the power back on, she waited to make sure that the unexpected reboot did not affect the game. The download bar reached the end of the bar and loaded the high score screen. She read over the listed and frowned when she got to a name that had been annoying her lately – Nochu.

This Nochu person had climb two positions high on the leader board since the last time she had checked this game and the achievement displeased her. That name was popping up on the leader boards of many games recently and while she did not feel her abilities were being threatened, she was annoyed that she could not put a face to this person.

Hours later back at the Kim residence, the two cousins enjoy the cooling weather on their porch as Jin attempts to tune his guitar by ear.

“The Basement wasn’t closed tonight.” Jungkook states when he scrolls through his Instagram feed and comes across a new post by the club “I never said it was.” Jin pays no attention to his cousin, instead he fiddles with the knobs at the head of guitar and plucks at a string once he believes he’s tightened the key enough. The sound rings out and the pitch is too high. “So why did we go to Reload instead?” Jin repeats the process with the chord again, the pitch is closer to where its supposed to be however the sound is still off. “None of the guys had a battle or a performance tonight.” He explained as he plucked at the string again and again, trying to pin point why it sounded wrong “And Y/N had to work, so we decided to hang with her instead.” “So we went for Y/N?” Jungkook tone was accusatory “No one forced you to tag along.” Jin fired back, he had stopped trying to tune the guitar to face him “She’s always supports the guys at the Basement, sometimes we repay the favour by making an appearance there to help drum up business.” Jungkook scoffed “You told me Reload was popular because she attracts people with her skills…if that’s the case why would she need you guys?” “She doesn’t need us at all.” Jin moved his guitar from his lap and lent it against his seat. He was frustrated with it and this conversation was adding to the stress.  “That’s the thing about having a good relationship with people…you do things to support them, even when they don’t ask.” “Oh yeah? If she’s so good why is she only ranked second on all the high scores.” Jin rolled his eyes at his cousin, he was being petty again and completely missed the point he was trying to make. “Mr S.K?” Jungkook nodded in confirmation.

Jungkook was becoming a regular at Reload and it was evident to him that Mr S.K was clearly the real champion of the joint. The guy had dominated every game of the arcade by holding highest score and while Y/N’s name always sat below his, her score was always miles away from meeting his. To Jungkook this was clearly another instance of Y/N receiving praise and adoration where it was not merited… it was Mr S.K who deserved to celebrated and yet it was Y/N who stole his popularity. If he had to come up with an explanation as to how this occurred, he would bet all his money it was because Y/N was considered to be “beautiful”.

“Mr S.K has held the top for as long as anyone can remember. There’s no mystery to who he is…He’s obviously the owner of the arcade.”  Jin windshield wiper boomed out and filled the stillness of the night as his cousin’s face fell. 

Jungkook pondered on the last few weeks, there was so much background information he didn’t know and for some reason his brain chose to fill in the gaps by somehow hating on Y/N.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car blaring loud music as it sped up and down the street.

“What the fuck is going?!” Jungkook exclaimed as he stood from his seat and made his way to the top of the porch stairs to get a better look at car. “Ah my Angel is home!” Jin jumped up and went to stand next to Jungkook. “Does she always carry on like this? She drives like a dipshit.” “Nah, that’s not even her driving. You see a while back she got caught at the illegal races, her parents made her sell her car as punishment... She must have gotten into a fight with her mother, this is how she always gets back her.”  

The car finally stopped doing laps down the street and pulled up into Y/N’s drive away. The pair watched as Y/N jumped out of the passenger side of the car and wave to the driver as they pulled away from the house. She was still unaware that she was being watched by them

“Hey Brat!” Jin called out, capturing her attention “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not take rides from strangers?”

Jungkook’s breathe hitched at the thought of Y/N allowing herself to be in a car with a stranger, especially someone who drove like a lunatic. He didn’t catch a glimpse of the driver but surely, she wasn’t reckless enough to put herself in such a dangerous situation…was she?

“She did, that’s what make’s it all the better.” Y/N bantered on smugly, Jungkook couldn’t figure out if she was joking or not. “Well it’s past your bed time young lady, you march right on inside and get right to bed.”  Y/N let out a sound of fake indignation and clutch her hand to her check overdramatically. “To think I raced all the way here with a surprise and this is how you treat me? You really are such a punk!” “A surprise?!” Jin’s eyebrows shot up in excitement, the façade dropped immediately. Everyone knew she gave the best surprises. “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!” he demanded and waved her over to them. Y/N laughed at his eagerness and rummaged through her bag as she closed the distance between them.

“Sorry I didn’t have time to wrap it.” She purposely handed him a grey game cartridge face down so there was some kind of element of surprise to the gift. His eyes widen comically when he turned it over and read the title of the game. “Y/N…is this…??” For the first time in Jungkook’s life he had seen his loud mouth cousin speechless. “Yah! Don’t make a big deal of it.” She tried to brush it off “Consider it an extremely late birthday gift.” “Not a big deal? This is the original Super Mario Bros 3! I played this game every day as a kid then this idiot blew it up somehow.” He nodded his head in Jungkook’s direction who rolled his eyes in response.

The incident happened years ago and he still hadn’t heard the end of it, he pretended like it didn’t bother him but deep down he felt so bad for accidentally destroying something his cousin held so dear to him.

“I’ve been trying to find it ever since! This must have cost you a fortune.” “Like I said…it’s no big deal. I was cleaning out storage at work and found it packed away, we never got round to fixing game console for it so the boss-man was nice enough to let me have it.”

That was a bold-faced lie.

Y/N had known about the sentimental significance this game had to Jin and went in search for it many months before his birthday. She only managed to get the game after she traded a set of mint condition baseball cards, she had acquired as collateral when a client fell through their end of a deal.

“Y/NIEEE this is why you’re my angel! Thank you so much.” He pulled her towards him and wrapped her up in a big bear hug. Jungkook felt out of place as he watched Y/N shriek and attempt to struggle out of his grip as he showered her with love…he could help but feel jealous of the fact that she could fix a mistake that he had made so long ago.

[goulets]

Heartland

Chapter: 3/8 Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Additional Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Colin Wilkes, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, Duke Thomas Rating: T (for now) Case Fic / Kid Fic a03 link

The library has its benefits: no harassment from over-familiar family members, no Dick sexually frustrating him within an inch of his life, and, if he’s willing to be a little sentimental, he kind of does want to show it to the baby. She’s too young to appreciate it, probably, but it stirs something in him to share it with her all the same. He’s heard it’s never too early to get kids into reading - his parents sure as hell never tried, but Jason had read anything he could get his hands on, once he learned how. It had saved him, back then. Maybe it can do the same for her one day.

“Could’ve sworn Bruce had a Dr. Seuss anthology somewhere in here,” he says to her, combing over the shelves with his eyes. “Guess not. You up for something more sophisticated?”

She grunts, squeezing his shirt in her fist. “Alright,” he agrees, pulling Twelfth Night off the shelf. “Shakespeare it is. You’ve got taste, kid.”

***

(dick)

Venice is a nightclub that has gone by many names during its Gotham tenure, and just as many owners. Dick has been undercover here at least twice, back when the club was catering to the wealthier patrons of Little Italy. The current management clearly hasn’t bothered with maintaining that exclusivity - the building is now shabby and outdated, even for this neighborhood. One thing that hasn’t changed, though, is the real draw of Venice, which is the illegal casino in the back rooms beyond the VIP lounge. Through all the club’s owners, the casino has always been run by the Falcones, and always frequented by the city’s most morally flexible elected officials. In the past four nights that Dick’s been staking the place out, he’s seen five judges, two city council members, and even the new police commissioner slipping out the back door into the alley, stinking of gin and cigar smoke and patting their coat pockets with an air of satisfaction. It’s good intel to have, Barbara’s told him. Always helpful to keep the files updated on who’s being bought and by whom. None of that really makes him feel better about the fact that he’s been staking this place out for four nights and still hasn’t managed to pin down their actual target.

It’s embarrassing, is what it is. He’s Nightwing, for God’s sake. He’s taken down whole Russian mobs in Bludhaven, and now he’s being completely eluded by a third-string Falcone no one’s even heard of.

Oracle had ID’d the doer of the Torres/Howard murders in a matter of hours, true to her word, and the ballistics had predictably matched up with a few other murders that the police never bothered investigating. Susanna “Susie” Falcone, a second cousin once removed with a rap sheet that puts many of her relatives to shame. Her name must still have some pull in political circles, because she’s only done time once, in spite of being indicted almost a dozen times. Gotta love good old fashioned judicial corruption, Jason had said. No one had been able to argue, looking at the number of charges dismissed.

All in all, it was supposed to be a fairly simple tag-and-bag. Once they’d found her place of work - officially, the Venice nightclub, unofficially, the family casino - he’d been tasked to track her, question her, and then turn her in to the police. He’d chosen his stakeout perch well, on a hotel roof high above the alley, he’d followed her, unseen, and so far, she’s given him the slip every freaking time. The woman has vanished through every doorway from here to Robinson Park, as only the most enterprising criminal can. Were this a different kind of case, Dick might have been impressed.

Instead, he’s annoyed, and having to compromise - his vantage point is lower, closer but more exposed in the thin shadows of a third story construction platform right above the alley. He can see the door to the club without any difficulty, but the moment he moves, he’ll be open to attack.

He’ll just have to move fast. Fortunately, that’s what he’s best at.

There’s a soft motion behind him, almost quiet enough to escape his notice entirely. It’s Jason - Dick hadn’t expected him to actually turn up. No doubt he’s here to make sure they finally succeed in catching their mark tonight, but he’s been so adamant about not leaving Danielle with anyone except Dick that it’s still a surprise to see him. What’s equally surprising to Dick is that he was apparently hoping Jason would show, if the relief he feels at seeing him is anything to go by.

It’s a nice moment of solidarity, until Jason opens his mouth. “So, fourth night’s a charm, huh?”

Dick bristles. “What happened to not leaving the baby?” he retorts.

Jason bristles back, but doesn’t rise to the bait. It’s a little wrongfooting - a reminder that things are changing between them. Dick is used to the veneer of antagonism that hangs over his relationship with Jason, the unresolved tension they both pretend not to notice. They’d gotten into a pretty good groove when he was acting as Batman, staying out of each others’ way for the most part, and working together when necessary. Dick’s pretty sure Jason doesn’t actually harbor any murderous feelings towards him, just like he doesn’t actually hate Bruce, no matter what he says.

“The girls and Alfred ganged up on me,” Jason says, leaning back against the scaffolding. “Whatever. I needed to get the hell out of there anyways. I don’t know how you stand being around them all so much.”

Dick laughs. “They’re not as interested in me,” he admits. “I’m not the cool sibling.”

Jason doesn’t respond right away. It's hard for Dick to tell, when he’s wearing the helmet, but he thinks Jason is probably waiting to see if Dick is joking. It’s another way things have shifted between them - Jason’s holding back, not jumping straight to lashing out, like he used to. It should be a good thing - it is a good thing, but it’s throwing him off balance all the same. He feels like he's spent most of the past several days looking for Jason, even when Jason is right in front of him. He’s used to trying to find the Jason he knows - or knew - the Jason who was taken away from him. Now there’s a new Jason, a Jason he’s still getting to know. Dick can’t choose between them, can’t decide which one he wants to find every time he looks at him. Maybe that’s why he can’t seem to find his one lousy mafia shooter.

“Looks like the cops are covering up the ballistics report on Reynolds,” Jason says, after a moment. “Go figure.”

Dick frowns. “Just Reynolds?”

Jason grunts. “Hold on. What.”

Dick turns to look at him.

“Did you burp her?”

Oh, Dick realizes, he’s on the comm. Someone back at the Manor must have pinged him on a private line.

“Then get Alfred to do it.”

It’s curious that the ballistics on Cy Reynolds’ murder are the ones being suppressed, Dick thinks. He was the only one killed with a submachine gun - the bullets from most of the other crime scenes had come from a standard Beretta APX, and the object of his stakeout, Susie Falcone, had used a Glock on Danielle’s parents. The Glock matched a few other shootings, the Beretta matched none. None of that is particularly noteworthy - after all, Susie is a criminal, and Beretta shell casings are a dime a dozen at any mob shooting.

“Fine. I’ll check back in five. If you asswipes don’t pick up, I’m coming back there.” Jason makes an aggravated noise in the back of his throat, which Dick takes to mean he’s hung up.

“Everything OK?”

“Just peachy. By some cosmic fucking joke, I’m the only person in the family who can get the baby to take a damn bottle. I told her they just need to burp her, but I guess that’s too complicated a task for a family of genius detectives,” Jason grumbles. “I knew I shouldn’t have left her. Shit.”

“Jay, relax. She’s fine.” Dick can’t help but grin at him. It’s honestly sweet, the way Jason and the baby have gotten attached to each other. Dick likes to think he’s her second favorite, but it’s pretty hard to tell. No matter who’s holding her, she’s always looking at Jason, and Jason never stops looking at her.

“It’s fucking cold out here,” Jason says mulishly.

Dick raises an eyebrow. “I noticed. It’s April, not August. If you really want to go back, I’m not gonna stop you.”

“I don’t…” Jason sighs. “Look, I’m here, okay? You bungled this grade school op three nights in a row, so congrats, you triggered the bat buddy system. If I leave and you fuck it up again, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Dick supposes it’s his turn not to rise to the bait. “Fair enough,” he says easily, turning around to face the alleyway again. “What were you saying about the ballistics on Reynolds?”

“Oh, Oracle ran the bullets through Interpol. Turns out our ill-fated gang boss was offed by one of Carmine Falcone’s personal weapons. The record’s been scrubbed from US databases, but Babs had a hunch.” Jason sounds impressed.

“Been scrubbed meaning...there was a record,” Dick follows, “and some people might still remember, if they saw the bullets. Hence the coverup.”

“Yup. Hence the coverup.”

“Could explain what the commissioner was doing here the other night,” Dick muses.

Jason snorts derisively. “See, this is what I hate about the mafia. They’re so goddamn predictable. Kill the competition, pay off the cops, around and around forever. It’s so pedestrian.”

Dick laughs. “You’d rather deal with Clayface?”

“Fuck yes I would. Clayface has flair, you know? Anybody can be a mobster, shit.”

Jason has started shifting with agitation, or maybe impatience. Either way, their vantage spot isn’t hidden enough for him to be moving around. “Get low if you’re gonna be twitchy,” Dick tells him. “Or if you’re gonna have a cigarette, but I’d really rather you didn’t.”

“Lucky for you I quit then,” Jason says, crouching down next to him. “I’m not jonesing, I’m just fucking cold.”

“We could huddle together for warmth,” Dick jokes, grinning unabashedly when Jason’s helmet fixes him with a death glare. “Wait, you quit smoking? When?”

“When I started taking care of a baby, obviously.” Jason goes still, suddenly. “Is that her?”

The door to the alleyway opens, and they both tense - but it’s just a man, a bodyguard, by the looks of him. Close-cropped blonde hair, early 40s, used to throwing his weight around. Feeling there’s something familiar about him, Dick nudges Jason and motions for him to take a photo. Jason starts almost imperceptibly at the contact, but follows suit. They both hold perfectly still in the shadows as the man looks around, glances in a cursory way along the rooftops, and then sets off down the alley towards the street.

“I know him,” Jason mutters. “From Tim’s case files - he was with Intergang.”

Dick doesn’t say anything about Jason calling Tim by name, but it’s a welcome development. “Looks like he switched sides, if he’s hanging out here.”

“Wonderful,” Jason says. “All right, I’m gonna check on the kid again.”

Dick represses the urge to give him a shoulder squeeze, or ruffle his hair. It’d probably result in him getting shoved off the platform, but Jason’s being so....not different, because Dick’s always known that this Jason was still in him, somewhere. Always hoped, anyways. When Jason had been younger and acted like this, surly with his words but tender with his actions, Dick had always thought of him as cute. It’s like that now, too, except it’s not just cute, because Jason has several inches and at least two weight classes on him. It’s cute in a different way, an adult way. It’s cute in a way that makes Dick want to push harder against Jason’s armor, to catch as many glimpses of that side of him as he can. If he thinks about it too long, it’s cute in a way that makes him want, recklessly.

“Red Hood to Batgirl,” Jason says. He’s calling on the family line this time. “Give me an update.”

“You’re seriously a helicopter parent, you know that, Hood?” Steph laughs in Dick’s ear. “We figured it out. Well...Black Bat figured it out.”

Jason’s shoulders sag a little in relief. Cute, Dick thinks, involuntarily. He needs to get a grip. “About fucking time.”

“She prefers being propped up,” Cass says. “It helps her swallow.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier. And she likes her back straight.”

“You said none of that, actually,” Steph says. “You just told us to support her head. Which we have been, thank you very much.”

“You have her now?”

“Robin has her.”

Dick and Jason look at each other. Jason says, “What the fuck?”

“Right?” Steph sounds amused. “I was surprised too....his friend is here, that ginger kid? He’s the one that took her from the orphanage, right?”

“Batgirl, I swear to god, if anything happens to her - ”

“Oh, calm down, jeez,” Steph groans. “They’re being supervised, okay? It’s honestly precious, you would agree with me if you could see it. I’ll text the pictures to N.”

“Please do,” Dick says. Speaking of cute, in a way that’s much safer to think about.

“Go do your job now,” Cass tells them. “We’re handling it.”

“Yeah, what she said. Batgirls out.”

“Feel better?” Dick asks, after a moment.

“Don’t ask me that,” Jason grouses. “And show me those pictures when you get them.”

Dick grins. “Sure, Jay.”

“Ugh.”

Dick decides to change the subject, before Jason gets too antsy and tries to bail. “So how do you want to play this, when Susie shows?”

Jason points to a dumpster halfway down the alley. “We wait until she’s there. I’ll get the club door, put a taser on it to stop her getting back in or anyone else from coming out. You cut her off before she gets to the street, and we question her on the backside of the dumpster. I’ll take line of sight, since I’m packing.”

Dick nods. “So is she.”

“So is every goon in those back rooms, sure. That’s why we lock their asses in.”

“And if they come out the front?”

Jason spins a gun in his hand. “Rubber bullets do the job just fine if you know how to aim. Let me worry about the backup.”

Another thing that’s changed about Jason - or that hasn’t changed, depending on how far back Dick looks. He uses rubber bullets now, whenever he’s working a case with one of them. Supposedly it’s a stipulation from Bruce, but Jason didn’t use lethal force on the couple cases he and Dick worked together, either, back when Dick was wearing the cowl. Dick thinks Bruce just gave him an excuse - whatever bloodlust Jason was fueled by when he first came back to Gotham has long since dried up. There are still things that set him off - Barbara had informed them about a dead rapist in the Narrows just last month - but Bruce hadn’t even commented on it, besides the barest acknowledgment. Dick thinks he might be the only one that actually cares when Jason kills someone, anymore. And what’s really disturbing is that he’s not actually sure how much he cares. For instance, he knows Jason has a third gun, holstered under his jacket, loaded with live ammo. He could call Jason out on it, insist he ditch it or at the very least unload it.

He says nothing. Let me worry about the backup. If this mission ends in a massacre, Dick will only have himself to blame.

The door opens again, and out steps Susie Falcone.

She immediately looks around, staying still in the doorway for a minute or more. Dick is pretty sure she hasn’t seen him following her, but he’s familiar with the sensation of being watched. He and Jason both shrink further into the shadows, waiting for her to make a move.

The whole process takes about six seconds. The moment she gets a few paces into the alley, they drop down. Jason electrifies the door handle, and Dick outmaneuvers her easily, slapping his police-issue cuffs on her and kicking her gun aside, then spinning her into the wall behind the dumpster. She hits it with a grunt. By the time she’s glaring at him, Jason is at his side again.

“Nightwing and Red Hood?” she says. “Damn. Didn’t expect to see you fellas out here.”

She doesn’t seem scared of them. Dick guesses they’ll have backup coming their way soon.

“Hey, what do you know,” Jason says conversationally, picking up the gun and emptying the clip in one swift motion. “Nightwing, I do believe this is our Glock.”

“Not mine,” Susie objects. “Picked it up off the club floor.”

“Come on, Susie, you’re smarter than that.” Jason crosses his arms. “Look, I can appreciate a sensible weapon. The Berettas the rest of your family favors? Too flashy for me. I loved Sopranos as much as the next guy, but come on.”

Dick suppresses a laugh. “Thought you were a Sig man,” he says in an undertone. He hadn’t expected Jason to take the lead, but it’s working. Susie looks agitated at the mention of her family.

“Wow, stalker. Remind me to move safe houses,” Jason quips back. “Aw, look, she slipped your cuffs.”

There’s a taser in Susie’s newly freed hand, and Dick quickly sidesteps it, twists it out of her wrist and sends it clattering down the cobblestones of the alley. Jason sweeps her legs out from under her and knocks her down flat, maybe a little harder than Dick would’ve. Thankfully, she goes down without a fight.

“Let’s try this again,” Dick says, kneeling next to her and zip-tying her wrists. If he wasn’t sure before, he is now - she was expecting them. They won’t be alone for long. He throws a couple smoke pellets down to the ends of the alley, and clips a nearly invisible wireless mic to the shoelaces of her boot under the guise of patting her down.

“You’re obviously not surprised to see us, so just tell us what we want to know,” Jason tells her, squatting down. “I’ll be honest, I don’t really give a shit that you shot Big Mouth, but what did Linda Torres ever do to you?”

“Let me up,” Susie snarls.

“No. Talk, or I’ll give you a taste of that taser you tried to pull on us.”

“Hood,” Dick hisses.

“See? He knows I’ll do it. Save yourself the grief, Susie.” Jason points the barrel of his gun lazily at her temple.

Susie narrows her eyes. “Fine. The two of them robbed me, last September. Dumb motherfuckers didn’t know who they were messing with. But I let them live because the bitch was pregnant.”

Jason makes a noise of disbelief. “Oh, sure. You’re a real bleeding heart, is that it?”

“Like you’re any better,” Susie fires back.

“You said you waited on Linda because she was pregnant,” Dick says. “Why’d you wait to kill Big Mouth?”

Susie’s mouth twists. “Guess I just felt like it.” Dick doesn’t need to see the tension in her shoulders to know she’s lying.

“Strike two.” Jason clicks the safety off. “Who put the hits out?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Susie answers. “I’m dead if I talk, so pistol whip me if you want to. Here’s the God’s honest truth: I really didn’t need a reason to kill those assholes. I was out for ‘em anyways. But I’m not crazy enough to kill a baby, all right? I don’t need shit like that on my conscience.”

“Keep talking,” Jason growls. Dick hears the whoop of a siren a few blocks off. “Where’s the baby now?”

“Somewhere safe, I swear. If anybody comes for her, it won’t be me.”

Susie still thinks Danielle’s at the orphanage, then. That’s good for them, but potentially bad for all the other kids, Colin included. These guys clearly have no problem killing children, even if Susie won’t do it.

The sirens are getting closer. Someone inside must’ve called the cops. Dick motions to Jason, indicating they need to wrap things up.

“Who is coming for her,” Jason barks, every line of his body a threat. “You’ve got five seconds.”

“You don’t.” Susie looks triumphant. They can hear the shouts of police from behind the smoke. “But don’t worry, boys. You’ll find out who really runs this town soon enough.”

“Hood,” Dick mutters. “We need to go, cops in this neighborhood aren’t cape-friendly.”

Jason stands, visibly enraged, and for a moment Dick thinks he’ll shoot Susie anyways. He’s prepared to move - but then Jason pulls out his grapple, fires, and flies up onto the roof.

“Talk about a bleeding heart,” Susie says to Dick. “He have kids or something?”

Dick doesn’t like her tone of voice at all. She’s too relaxed, too unconcerned about being under arrest. She won’t stay in long.

“It’s Nightwing! Get your hands up!”

Dick obliges, ready to pull his escrima sticks.

Three police officers come through the smoke, weapons drawn. “You better have a damn good reason for being this far out of Bludhaven,” one of them shouts at Dick.

“Sure do!” Dick calls back. “Arrested a murderer for you, no need to thank me!”

“Shut up,” a different officer retorts. “Keep your hands up, pretty boy.”

“Oh, fuck this,” Jason mutters over the comm. “I’m throwing you an escape, we’ll recon on the library roof. Stop being so goddamn chatty.”

One smoke pellet later, Dick is three rooftops away and flying. He gets to the library before Jason, exhilarated as ever from a good run.

Jason drops down next to him after a minute or so, laughing when he gets a look at Dick’s smile. “Running from the cops still does it for you, huh?”

Dick elbows him, momentarily forgetting to keep his distance. “Doesn’t it for you?”

Surprisingly, Jason doesn’t move away. “Usually they’re shooting at me, so.”

Dick leans closer, testing. “So…yes?”

“You’re so annoying,” Jason says, but he lets Dick nudge his shoulder, bump their arms together. He’s so solid, Dick thinks. So big. More like Bruce than any of them.

“So, how fast do you think she’ll get out?” he asks, when Jason stays quiet.

“Fucking tomorrow, probably,” Jason sighs. “Next week if we’re lucky.”

“Sounds like she didn’t know about Danielle, at least.”

“She’s not the problem,” Jason says, shrugging Dick off and standing back up. “Falcones will blow up the whole orphanage if they get wind of it. We need to put them down first.”

“We need to find out who’s in charge,” Dick agrees. “I planted a mic on her shoe. In the laces. Hopefully she won’t find it for a few days.”

“Good thinking,” Jason nods. “You gonna keep patrolling?”

“Might as well,” Dick says, standing up next to him and stretching his arms over his head. “I’m still stiff from that stakeout, I need to move.”

Jason’s gone quiet again. Dick thinks he hears his breath catch, but the helmet muffles it enough that it could be a yawn.

“You’re going back to the manor?”

Jason groans. “Fuck my life, yes.”

“You miss her, huh.” Cute, his brain chants.

Jason doesn’t answer, but Dick has a feeling he’s getting the stink-eye.

“I miss her too,” Dick offers. “It’s okay.”

Jason sighs. “Dick…”

“It’s a good thing, Jay. You care about her! We all do,” Dick adds, seeing the rigidity in Jason’s posture. “I mean, you’re practically her parent right now. Of course you miss her.”

“...Don’t say it like that.” Jason’s voice is low, almost pained, and Dick knows he pushed too far. “Like…like I have a right to, okay, just. Don’t.”

“Jason, wait,” Dick starts, but he doesn’t get to finish. Without a backward glance, Jason fires off a line to the neighboring building, and then he’s gone.

***

(tim)

The docks are quiet, unsettlingly so, as Tim prowls around the towers of shipping containers, keeping to the deep shadows they cast along the chipped pavement. It’s overcast, so there’s no moonlight to expose him, but it’s also too dark to see which of the trucks and campers parked all over are occupied, which ones might suddenly turn their headlights on him and catch him out.

One truck in particular - an innocuous looking Isuzu with a stunningly weaponized interior, is the object of his search. The driver, Felipe, is one of Tim’s best informants within Intergang - or had been, prior to the upheaval. Tim’s reasonably sure that Felipe is too lowly a grunt to make an example of, but still, he’s concerned that he hasn’t heard from him in a few days.

As it turns out, he needn’t have worried. He finds Felipe a hundred yard away from his truck, taking a piss off the wharf. He lets himself into the passenger side of the truck, and immediately notes that it is packed. There’s hardly a spare inch in the back, and Tim has a tough time even getting into the passenger seat with all the bags, clothes, and blankets stuffed into it. He pushes the majority of it to the floor, and waits.

Felipe comes back a few moments later. He opens the door and starts, eyes going wide when he sees Tim, but Tim puts his finger to his lips and motions for Felipe to get in so they can talk.

“Red Robin,” Felipe says, once the door is closed. He looks even more shaken than usual. “What the fuck, man?”

Tim crosses his arms. “You tell me, Felipe. You’ve been dodging my calls for days, and now I find out you’re skipping town?”

“I ditched that phone, man. Boss Reynolds had my number in there, you know? Ditched it as soon as I heard about him. I wasn’t trying to ghost you, honest.”

“Relax,” Tim tells him. “I’m not mad. I’d dodge me, too. Just tell me what happened, and I’ll shadow you out of town. Make sure you’re not followed.”

“Shit, man,” Felipe sighs. “Okay, look. There’s shit I can’t tell you, not if I ever want to hench again. You gotta figure that all out yourself, yeah?”

Tim shrugs. “Fine.”

Felipe swallows. “It started last week when Boss Reynolds met with somebody - I don’t know his name, God as my witness, but from what I heard, ‘cause I was unloading some of that funky alien tech, and you know Boss Reynolds wanted to supervise that personally - anyways, this guy in a suit took a meeting with him, and it sounded like he was offering Boss Reynolds a job. Said he had a new operation, bigger than Intergang, bigger than anything Gotham’s seen in a while.”

“Did Reynolds believe him?”

“Nah, he told him to get lost. They had some words, and then everybody started pulling guns, and I went back to the ship so I didn’t get fuckin’ shot, but I didn’t hear anything after that. Next thing I saw, Boss Reynolds was calling his son up and telling him to demo some building down by the old boardwalk - a hotel, maybe. Guess he wanted to expand that way, I don’t know.”

“That was the old Falcone hotel,” Tim says, mostly just to see Felipe’s reaction. He isn’t disappointed - Felipe goes pale, and his eyes flash to the rosary hanging off his rearview mirror. Tim likes Felipe as an informant because he’s nosy, shockingly competent for a henchman, and because he really likes to gossip. He’s never held back on Tim before this.

“Few days later, one of ours, this merc named Tiberius, comes down to the warehouse and says he’s got something to show us. Takes out a fat fuckin’ folder full of pictures…man, it was some sick shit. Boss Reynolds, his wife, Reynolds Jr, and every fuckin’ guy under him. Kids, man. He just passed it around, made everyone look at it. Then he says, we can either be in the folder, or we can come meet the new boss.”

Felipe takes a shaky breath. “Obviously I go with Tiberius, like everyone else. I heard a couple guys stayed on the ship that was docked, thinking they’d wait ‘em out, but the new boss blew it up. Says we’re not in the tech business anymore, and anyone caught trying to smuggle it is gonna get tied to it and tossed in the harbor. You can imagine my concerns,” he says, gesturing to his truck. Tim estimates half or more of the weapons in it are salvaged from alien junk. Roy Harper would have a field day with the setup this guy’s made for himself.

“So that’s why you’re bailing,” Tim says, understanding. He can hardly blame the guy. “Why not just hide the truck somewhere?”

“Well…I did think about that,” Felipe admits. “Tiberius made us a pretty sweet pitch, once we went along with him. Not gonna lie, I was tempted. Tech is my thing, you know, but I can make a gun out of pretty much anything. I could see the possibilities, is what I’m saying, but that was before we met the new boss.”

Tim nods encouragingly. This is what he’s been waiting to hear.

“Listen, Red Robin - I know we’ve had our differences, but I respect you, man, you know that. You’ve been good to me, so I’m gonna give you some advice here. Stay the hell away from the new boss. Like, don’t even get involved. I’ve been henching for a while, and I’ve seen some messed up shit, but they are crazy. Está loca, you feel me? I’ve seen the hit list, and you’re right at the top of it. You and all the other capes. Half of Arkham, too. And they’re connected, like you wouldn’t believe. Shit, I’m already saying too much, man. You see the position I’m in here?”

“I do, Felipe,” Tim tells him. He hands over a stack of hundred dollar bills, their agreed-upon rate for information. “Where are you going?”

“You’re crazy too, if you think I’m telling you that,” Felipe scoffs.

Tim wasn’t expecting a straight answer anyways. “Fair enough. You heading out now?”

“Soon as you get the hell outta my car, yeah. You said you’d shadow me out?”

“I will,” Tim says. “From a distance. If you don’t see me, it means you’re clear to cross the bridge.”

“All right,” Felipe nods. “In that case, I hope I never see your ass again.”

Tim laughs, and climbs out of the truck.

He finds his own way out of the shipyard, pulls a bike out of a safe house, and catches up with Felipe’s GPS signal halfway to the Fashion District. Once he’s sure there’s no immediate threat, he calls Barbara.

“Red Robin to Oracle. I’m uploading a recording to the server.”

Barbara is in his ear at once. “You met with your informant?”

“He wouldn’t give me a name, but he let a couple things slip.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” she says.

“First, he flinched hard when I brought up the Falcone name.”

“Confirms what we already know,” Barbara says. “Good. There’s more?”

“There’s more.” Tim tries not to gloat. This is, after all, a serious situation. “He was being cagey about mentioning the leader’s gender, so I was already suspicious, but then said ‘está loca’ when he was trying to warn me.”

Barbara whistles. “Well,” she says, sounding satisfied. “That’ll certainly narrow it down.”

“Yep,” Tim says grimly. “Looks like the new head of the Falcone family is a woman.”

***

(jason)

When Jason was Robin, the library had always been his favorite room in the Manor. It had spoken easily to his idea of what wealth was - rich people had fancy cars, sure, and maybe pools and expensive wardrobes, but wealthy people had art collections, and gardens, and libraries. Jason had spent hours upon hours browsing the shelves, reading anything he could wrap his brain around (and plenty of things he couldn’t), suggesting additions to Alfred, and avoiding his schoolwork in favor of learning about more interesting things, like string theory, or cryptology, or chemical warfare.

That was then.

Now, the library is the only place he can get a minute of peace from the constant barrage of his obnoxious, nosy, boundaryless family members. They’ve been characteristically persistent in their curiosity about him, and about Danielle, who is now Dani, courtesy of Stephanie. This is a nickname family, she’d said, and Jason hadn’t known how to disagree. So now she’s Dani, and Jason is family, and that apparently means he is no longer entitled to any privacy, or personal space for that matter. The only person who hasn’t barged in on him is Bruce, which is almost worse, in a way, because it’s one thing when nobody seeks him out, and it’s quite another when everyone does and then Bruce...doesn’t. Not that he wants Bruce to come up and bother him, God. But he’s in the man’s house, he’s hearing him on the comm constantly either on patrol or down in the cave, and all the other Bat brats and even Alfred are buzzing around him like flies. It’s too much - it feels like before, except for Bruce’s conspicuous absence reminding him that it’s not.

Sharing a bathroom with Dick is another before experience that Jason didn’t need a repeat of. In some ways, it was worse when he was Robin - stripping and showering after patrol in the cave with Dick a few feet away from him is a memory he really wouldn’t have minded leaving back in the Pit - and in other ways, it’s worse now, because Dick is always freaking around. There’s no reprieve, he’s not flitting off to the Titans every week like he used to be. Jason hasn’t gone half a day without Dick getting in his space, drawing up close to him and making that earnest eye contact he’s so annoyingly good at; sometimes wet, sometimes half-naked, sometimes both. And what can Jason do? He’s not going to leave Dani, and he needs Dick to be there so he can get some sleep every once in a while, or patrol, or shower. It’s actually been pretty helpful to have him around, in that regard, but if he has to see the guy walking around with bedhead and nothing but a pair of boxer briefs on one more time, he’s going to fucking explode.

So, the library has its benefits: no harassment from over-familiar family members, no Dick sexually frustrating him within an inch of his life, and, if he’s willing to be a little sentimental, he kind of does want to show it to Dani. She’s too young to appreciate it, probably, but it stirs something in him to share it with her all the same. He’s heard it’s never too early to get kids into reading - his parents sure as hell never tried, but Jason had read anything he could get his hands on, once he learned how. It had saved him, back then. Maybe it can do the same for Dani one day.

“Could’ve sworn Bruce had a Dr. Seuss anthology somewhere in here,” he says to her, combing over the shelves with his eyes. “Guess not. You up for something more sophisticated?”

She grunts, squeezing his shirt in her fist. “Alright,” he agrees, pulling Twelfth Night off the shelf. “Shakespeare it is. You’ve got taste, kid.”

He wonders, not for the first time, what exactly he thinks he’s doing, playing at this whole parenting thing. The rational part of his brain knows that this is a case, that Dani is a victim, that Jason is protecting her because it’s his job. The emotional part of his brain has gone completely off the goddamn rails. Case in point: he’s here with her in the library, prepping her for early literacy like some kind of Crest Hill soccer mom wannabe. Like he’ll even be in her life when she starts doing her ABCs - God willing, she’ll be as far away from him as possible by the time that happens.

It’s fucking hard to think about. He never thought he’d get this attached to a person who can’t even burp on their own. It’s been over a week, and he still struggles with putting her down, with stepping away from her, even when he knows he’s coming right back. Steph and Damian have been wanting to hold her all the time, and Jason knows that they’re capable, knows he has no claim over Dani, doesn’t even mind either of them all that much under normal circumstances, and still, he can’t help feeling like something has reached inside and gripped at his heart every time he passes her over. Which is ridiculous, because she’s not his, he has no more claim over her than any other schmuck off the street. She’s just a kid with unbelievably bad luck, and he’s the idiot who followed Dick up the stairs instead of booking it out the door like a sensible person.

He settles down with her on the couch, propping her up on a couple of pillows, giving her foot a little squeeze. She squeals, smiling at him, and stuffs her fingers in her mouth. God, Jason didn’t know he could feel the way he feels whenever she smiles at him. It’s gonna kill him when he has to give her up.

“If music be the food of love, play on,” he reads, walking his fingers up her leg. “Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken, and so die.”

Dani watches him, chewing happily on her fingers. “‘O, it came over my ear like the sweet sound that breathes upon a bank of violets.’ That’s you, you know.” He pokes her in the cheek, grinning. If music be the food of love…but hell, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this. Especially when she’s all calm and engaging, the precious few minutes that he’s learned to appreciate in between finishing eating and being tired and cranky, when all she wants to do is look around at things, and all Jason wants to do, ever, is look at her.

The door to the library opens, and Jason goes from content to murderous in a fraction of a second. “What the fuck is it now,” he hisses, expecting Damian or maybe Tim, coming to nag him some more, and instead sees Damian’s friend Colin, who looks horrified to have intruded on him. Jason immediately feels like the world’s biggest ass.

“Sorry,” Colin whispers, mortified, and Jason waves a hand apologetically.

“My bad, I didn’t know it was you. Come in, it’s fine. She’s awake, you don’t need to whisper.”

Colin looks unsure, but soon nods and steps into the library, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Once inside, he dawdles by the nearest bookshelf, clearly at a loss. Jason probably should’ve just let him back out, because this is awkward. Should he keep reading to Dani? Talk to Colin? Ask him why he looks like someone just kicked him and stole his dog?

“You good?” he ventures, figuring he ought to at least attempt to be the adult in the room.

Colin glances at him over his shoulder, smiling tentatively. “Yeah, just bored. Damian’s sleeping, we had a rough patrol last night.”

“We?” Jason repeats, stunned. Bruce isn’t an exemplar of child welfare practices, sure, but letting Damian take other kids on crime-busting playdates? What the hell?

“Oh, I guess you don’t know,” Colin frowns. “I’m….uh, it’s probably easier if I just show you.”

He slides his jacket off, threadbare t-shirt hanging off his skinny frame. Jason tenses, not sure what to expect. When Colin’s arm starts to expand, his eyes widen. By the time his fist is as big around as Jason’s thigh, he thinks his eyebrows have probably disappeared into his hairline.

“Oh.” Jason has no idea how he’s supposed to react to this. Is Colin a meta? He’s pretty sure he would know if Colin was a meta. “How…?”

“Scarecrow,” Colin explains. Jason’s heart sinks. “He experimented on me with synthetic Venom. Batman saved me.”

Dani fusses, twisting her body and scrunching her face up. Jason sympathizes - this conversation is giving him gas, too. “Shit,” he says. Not the most articulate way of expressing his condolences, but Colin’s friends with Damian, so tact can’t be of great importance to him. “I didn’t know.”

Dani starts to cry, and Colin takes a couple steps forward, putting Jason’s hackles up at once. Stop it, he tells himself sternly. He might have fallen down a few pegs, but he’s not pathetic enough to square up against an abused fifth grader. He picks her up, rubbing her back, and then glances over at Colin. The kid’s gone shy, looking down at a point somewhere between Jason’s legs and the floor. Jason feels all the hostility bleed out of him, and he sighs.

“You can sit down.” He gestures to the couch, trying to sound nonthreatening. Dani burps, mouths at his shirt, and then gurgles and kicks her legs again. She leans back against his hold to stare at Colin, and Colin’s face splits into a huge grin. He tucks himself down into the cushions, keeping plenty of space between them, but Jason can sense from the inclination of his body that he wants to be closer. Well, if anyone has a right to be close to Dani, it’s the kid who rescued her in the first place.

“Here,” he offers, turning Dani around in his arms. His heart clenches, and he clamps down on his desire to flee. “You can hold her for a minute, if you want to. She likes you.”

Colin looks at him, eyes shining. “Really?”

Jason nods. “Go ahead. Honestly, you probably know a lot more about this shit than I do.”

Colin takes Dani from him carefully, smiling at her and laughing when she reaches forward to grab at his jacket zipper. A few seconds later, it’s in her mouth, along with most of her fist.

“Should I…?” Colin looks at Jason hesitantly.

“I mean…she’s had worse things in her mouth,” Jason tells him. A ringing endorsement of his child-minding abilities right there. “It’s fine, right? That’s how they build an immune system, or whatever.”

“Well, Alfred washed this for me last night,” Colin admits, looking embarrassed. “So it shouldn’t be too gross.”

Jason leans back against the couch cushions, crossing his arms. “Getting all the perks, huh?”

Colin shrugs, casting his eyes down again. “I like it here.”

Considering where Colin grew up, Jason supposes he can’t blame the kid. Still, he’s not quite wrapping his head around this sweet, genuinely nice kid being buddies with Damian. The demon brat isn’t exactly known for his winning personality, and Jason only knows vaguely how the two of them met, but what he’s heard doesn’t strike him as being particularly conducive to forging the lasting bonds of friendship.

Curiosity gets the better of him, and he decides to just ask. “Why’d you call Damian, the night you found her?”

Colin looks surprised. “I...don’t know,” he says, slowly. “I didn’t know who else to call? Damian’s my best friend, and he always knows what to do.”

Jason can’t keep the skeptical look off his face.

“And if he doesn’t, Bat….Bruce, I mean, definitely always knows what to do.”

Jason scrubs a hand over his face. Time to change the fucking subject. “How’d you two get hooked up, anyways?”

Dani turns her head to look at him, still eating Colin’s zipper. Sometimes, Jason gets the bizarre feeling that she can somehow tell when he’s about to blow a gasket. It’s probably a coincidence - she moves around a lot, and Jason has anger issues that flare up every ten minutes, so there’s bound to be some crossover - but it works, because it takes the fight right out of him every time.

“We worked a case together,” Colin says, holding Dani a little more securely against him. “About a year ago, I guess. Kids were disappearing from my orphanage, and from the shelters. I don’t think you were around.”

“I wasn’t,” Jason shakes his head. He and Roy had been busting a trafficking ring in Ibiza, and it had taken Jason over a month to get all the major players. “I heard about it a little, from Dick.”

Dick hadn’t given him too many details at the time - Jason had chalked it up to him having a few other things on his mind, but as Colin fills in the gaps, he starts to suspect Dick just didn’t want him going on a rampage. Which he absolutely would have - he still wants to, God. God. All those poor kids, just a stone’s throw from his old neighborhood. And of course the police had done jack shit - Zsasz is practically Black Mask’s pet, he probably paid them off to look the other way, not that most of them need the excuse - and Bruce was gone, and Jason was gone, and Dick was in over his head, and - fuck, it should never have fallen to Damian and Colin.

He waits for the fury to subside a little, not trusting what will come out of his mouth. Dani hums around her fist, blinking at him, and it helps. “Jesus,” he says, finally. “This fucking town.”

Colin’s mouth twists a little. “Yeah. But you were Robin, right? You probably saw worse things.”

Did he? Jason doesn’t remember. He doubts it, though. He can’t imagine he would’ve been satisfied with Bruce’s way of dealing with it.

“I wouldn’t have pulled my stroke, when I was Robin,” he muses. “Probably why Bruce never gave me a sword.”

No, Jason would’ve bisected the fucker. It still has appeal, though he thinks he would lean towards his favorite Sig rifle if he was taking care of it today. Headshots for the henchmen - anyone who signs on to that kind of operation, even in the most menial capacity, doesn’t deserve to breathe. Kneecaps and crotch shots for the spectators, to make sure they couldn’t get away. Gut shots for the kid-wranglers. And Zsasz....it’s tempting to want to draw it out, but Jason can feel the desire leaving him the longer he thinks about it. His imaginative tortures fade into a simple headshot, and even that isn’t satisfying. Fuck. He just can’t seem to hold onto his rage lately, even when he wants to. It’s all being replaced by some kind of anxiety, some kind of tenderness that aches, burning deep into him every time Dani looks at him, or touches him. Every time he thinks of her. Every time he feels Dick watching him with her, all warmth and affection.

Colin bounces her a little, making her laugh. Jason feels his revenge fantasy slip away.

“What’re you reading her?” Colin nods to the book still laying open in Jason’s lap.

Jason looks at it. “Oh, Twelfth Night. Shakespeare,” he adds, recalling that Colin is eleven, and likely not perusing great literature in his free time. “Figure it’s never too early to start her on the classics.”

Colin grins. “That’s cool,” he says. “Does she like it?”

“Beats me,” Jason shrugs.

“Read some?”

Jason raises his eyebrows.

Colin flushes. “Um. I mean, if you want…”

He decides to humor him. What the hell. “Sure, why not. ‘O spirit of love! How quick and fresh art thou, that, notwithstanding in thy capacity, receiveth as the sea.’”

Dani yawns widely, relinquishing her fist in a long string of drool. Jason laughs, and so does Colin. “Maybe jumping the gun a little,” he admits. “I don’t really know what kids are into these days.”

“Me either,” Colin says. “I think she liked it, though. See, she’s just sleepy.”

Jason feels a lump forming in his throat, and swallows hard against it.

“What does it mean? The part you were reading,” Colin asks.

“Um.” Jason doesn’t really know, he’s not exactly a literary scholar, but he’s always liked to work Shakespeare out on his own, finding meaning in the wordplay and running the metaphors through his mind until they line up in a satisfactory way. He doesn’t know if his interpretation is correct, exactly, but: “So this Duke, a guy called Orsino, is saying that he doesn’t want to be in love anymore. He’s talking about love and how everyone thinks it’s this wonderful thing, but the truth is that it actually just makes people miserable.”

Jason pauses, feeling like he just showed way too much of his hand. “Basically, he’s just complaining,” he finishes, uneasy.

Glancing at Colin out of the corner of his eye, he’s relieved to see that he’s occupied with Dani, and not paying attention to Jason at all. Thank fuck. If it’d been anyone else in the house sitting there, he’d be in for some horrible armchair psychology session, and he’d have to book it out the window and not return for several months.

“I think she wants you,” Colin says, as Dani ramps up her fussing. Jason takes her gratefully, holds her to his chest as she rubs her eyes and grumbles her displeasure at being passed around.

“All right, I hear you,” Jason murmurs, gently tugging her fists away from her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, come on. It’s not so bad.” Like he’s one to talk.

And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, ever since pursue me, he thinks, rocking her tiny body into a comfortable position. Colin was only holding her for ten, maybe fifteen minutes, and Jason was sitting less than five feet away, but he missed her. God, what is happening to him?

“Damian didn’t want to bring her here, at first,” Colin says quietly. “But I think he’s glad that we did. He really likes her, you know.”

Jason doesn’t quite know how to feel about that. It’s sweet, on some level. And he’s well aware that Damian likes her, going by the amount of time he spends hovering in the hallway outside Jason’s room, not to mention the increasingly expensive toys that keep showing up among her things.

He looks down at her, dozing off. “Well, she’s pretty easy to like.”

Colin nods, looking pleased.

“Damian, on the other hand....”

Colin grins. “He’s not so bad.”

He’s really not. Like hell Jason will ever tell him that, though. “You have bizarre taste, kid.”

Colin blushes, hard, and Jason blinks. Well. That’s interesting, isn’t it? Or it will be, in a few years. He makes a note to ask Dick about it, later.

“Are you gonna adopt her?” Colin asks, bringing Jason’s amused thoughts to a screeching halt.

Automatically, he says, “No way.”

Colin looks wounded. “Why not?”

“Because I can’t,” Jason replies. “I’m the last person who should be a parent, trust me.”

“Doesn’t look that way to me.”

Doesn’t feel that way either - the thought floats up, unbidden, uninvited. He can’t. “She deserves better,” Jason says, heavily. “Even if….even I could handle it. She deserves better than this family.”

“But your family is - ”

“A death sentence.” He’s being harsh, but if Colin’s gonna be hanging around, he’ll find out for himself soon enough. “It’s fucking cursed, look. I couldn’t do that to any kid, especially her. You should get out too, while you still can.”

Colin looks angry, which surprises him. His hands are balled into fists, and Jason sees a tremor in them, a bulging that immediately sets off alarm bells in his head.

“Kid,” he says sharply. “Colin. If you’re gonna hulk out, take it outside. Alfred will have an honest-to-God stroke if you do it in here.”

A few deep breaths later, Colin looks normal again. “Sorry.” His voice is hoarse. “You’re wrong, though.”

Jason’s temper flares. “No offense, but I think I would know better than you,” he snaps. Dani grumbles sleepily in his arms, and he sighs out in frustration. “Trust me, okay? She’s better off. It never ends well, not in this family. I’m proof of that.”

But Colin shakes his head. “You don’t know,” he says. “My mom said the same thing, when she dropped me off at the orphanage. She gave the nuns a letter - she said I’d be better off with them than with her.”

Jason stills.

“It didn’t matter,” Colin continues. “Scarecrow still got me. Victor Zsasz still got me. Maybe they would have gotten me with her, too. Maybe I wouldn’t have been that much better off with her, but at least I would’ve been with her.” He sniffles, and Jason holds Dani a little tighter.

“I know she loved me.” His voice cracks. “I just wish...I wish I could’ve stayed with her. I wish she would have known that I never would’ve been better off away from her.”

He looks absolutely miserable, pitched forward and rubbing hard at his eyes. Jason is reminded painfully of how young Colin is, closer to Dani’s age than his own. He remembers being Colin’s age and younger, thinking the same thoughts about his own mother. How fiercely he’d guarded her, chased away the cops and the social workers, doing everything in his power not to be separated from her. Not that it mattered, in the end.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Colin, I’m sorry. For the record, I actually kind of get where you’re coming from.”

Colin looks up at him.

“Wish I didn’t, but. That’s life.”

“You should adopt her,” Colin says again, softly.

Jason shakes his head. “Colin…”

“You’ll think about it.”

He exhales. “Sure, I’ll think about it.” Like he’ll be able to think about anything else after this.

“She needs you,” Colin insists stubbornly.

Jason doesn’t reply. He knows on some level Colin is right - Dani does need him right now. She needs someone, at least, someone who can take care of her and protect her. Someone who isn’t afraid to shed blood to keep her safe. Jason doesn’t relish the thought, but he’s certain this won’t end tidily. Mob cases never do. It’ll be messy, and bloody, and Bruce will have a shit fit, and Dick probably will too, and Jason will go back to Crime Alley and Dani will get shipped off to Witness Protection or something, and damn, does that hurt to think about.

He looks over at Colin, still hunched over on himself, vulnerability written into every line of his posture. He’s desperately in need of a hug, or some kind of affection, validation, maybe. Or that’s just Jason projecting, who the fuck knows. If Dick was here, he would know exactly what to do for him. Jason’s at a loss, unable to separate his young self from the damaged kid sitting next to him.

He adjusts his hold on Dani carefully, laying her down flat along his arm, while he works out what to say. Finally, he settles on, “Damian’s lucky to have you.”

Colin sits up a little straighter. He looks like he’s waiting for more, but he’s shit out of luck, because Jason has no idea what else he needs to hear. No idea what he could say that wouldn’t be completely insincere, anyways. We can be your family, Colin. Like hell. Bruce has enough kids lined up waiting to die for him, he’s not about to encourage another one to be turned into cannon fodder for the man’s principles.

“Uh, yeah,” Jason says, after a moment. “That’s all I got.”

Colin smiles wanly. “Thanks, anyways.”

Jason snorts. “Sure.”

“Can I hug you?”

Jason stares. “Can you…what? Me?”

“I won’t if you don’t want me to,” Colin adds, averting his eyes.

Jason can’t even remember the last time someone hugged him. He thinks Roy might’ve, some eight or nine months ago, after they’d narrowly survived a warehouse explosion. Jason’s whole body had been ringing from the blast, so he doesn’t exactly remember the sensation of it. And before that…?

He imagines Dick’s reaction, if he was here. He’d be disappointed in Jason, that’s for sure. Really, Jay? You can’t hug a child? It’s a fair argument, he has to admit. Jason’s fucked up personal space issues don’t really apply to children, or babies, clearly. Colin’s obviously attention-starved, and Jason’s already holding one kid. What’s another, really.

“Okay,” he relents. “Hit me.”

There’s a shuffling motion next to him, and then Colin is hugging his free arm, leaning his head against Jason’s shoulder. Jason can’t quite contain his surprise - it’s weird, as expected, but it’s not dramatically increasing his desire to bolt through the nearest exit like he’d thought it would. It’s a little funny, actually. He’s pretty sure both Bruce and Damian would lose their shit if they could see him right now. Dick, too, most likely, but to his credit, it would be a happy kind of shit-losing. Damian would probably try to gut him.

Are there cameras in the library? Jason can’t remember. He kind of hopes there aren’t, because if anyone else sees this, he will absolutely never live it down.

***

(dick)

“Wait, I think that’s him.” Dick leans forward to peer at Tim’s screen. He points to the familiar looking figure. “That guy. Do you have a clearer shot?”

Tim skips a few photos ahead, and zooms in. “Him?”

“Yes. That’s the guy. Jason said he recognized him from your surveillance files. He was at the club the night we caught Susie Falcone.”

“The fourth night, was it?” Tim asks, innocently.

“Don’t be mean, Timmy.”

“Just clarifying,” Tim grins. Dick raises an eyebrow. “Okay, okay. I don’t have a ton of intel on this guy, he’s really slippery. According to my informant, he goes by Tiberius - some kind of mercenary, Greek or Albanian national. I doubt that’s his real name.”

Dick nods, studying the photographs. Tim continues, “He came over with Intergang as an enforcer, I think. Might’ve been Reynolds’ personal bodyguard.”

“Could explain how Reynolds got taken out,” Dick says thoughtfully. “He’s on the Falcones’ payroll now, but he’s not family. Might be an easy target.”

Tim opens his mouth, about to reply, when there’s a choked-off sound of fury from the Batcave below them.

“Was that Damian? He’s up already?” Dick asks, glancing down towards Bruce’s computer. He hops over the ramp to see what the fuss is about. Tim follows close behind.

“Everything okay?” Dick asks, approaching the wall of screens. There’s nothing that jumps out at him as being particularly alarming; Bruce is looking at DNA analyses, and Damian is looking at the Manor surveillance, tapping furiously at his ear.

“Todd!” he hisses. “What do you think you’re doing? Colin is my friend!”

“Robin,” Oracle’s voice comes through the speaker. “No names on the comms. And Hood isn’t wearing his earpiece, so you’ll have to tell him in person.” She sounds amused. “Oracle out.”

Damian swears.

“Holy shit,” Tim says faintly. “Look at them.”

The screen that all the Manor surveillance feeds run to is showing just one room - the library, of all places, but Dick vaguely recalls it being some kind of sanctuary to Jason, years and years ago. It makes sense that he’d end up back there, and it makes sense that he’d have Dani with him. What Dick doesn’t expect to see is little Colin Wilkes, all five feet and change of him, snuggled up to Jason’s side and hugging him, wrapped around his arm like a gangly koala. Dick can’t help but notice that Jason’s bicep is about as big around as Colin’s head, which is certainly...something. He’s not quite ready to classify how he feels about that, so he refocuses on the hug itself, which is nothing short of charming.

Damian grinds his teeth audibly. “It’s still going.”

“Oh, man.” Dick can’t help the grin he feels creeping up the sides of his face. “Bruce, are you seeing this?”

“I am,” Bruce says, stiffly. He looks like he’s in pain. Dick fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“What’s wrong with you? Look how sweet they are!” he exclaims, gesturing. It’s adorable.

“It is not sweet,” Damian snarls, whirling on him. “Todd is a corruptive influence, and Colin is young and impressionable! Where is your concern for him?”

Tim coughs, and it sounds a little bit like “jealous”. Surprisingly, this does not diffuse Damian’s indignation.

“I don’t get it,” Dick says, stepping between them quickly to block Damian’s spinning kick. “I thought you and Jason were fine, Damian. You’ve been spending enough time in our - in his room lately. Where’s this coming from?”

“Incredibly, I don’t feel as concerned about Todd recruiting an infant onto the path of lawlessness,” Damian retorts. “Colin lacks paternal guidance in his life, as you know. Todd clearly senses it.”

“Jason is very paternal these days,” Tim agrees.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just a hug,” Dick says in exasperation. “No one’s recruiting anyone, Damian. And look, it’s over. Your friend is just a hugger, that’s all.”

“I must agree with Master Richard,” Alfred says from behind them. “Having been the recipient of many such embraces from young Master Colin myself.”

“See? I’ve gotten hugs from him too,” Dick tells Damian. “And I know you have, so don’t bother denying it. He’s probably gearing up the courage to get one from Bruce one of these days.”

Bruce looks slightly alarmed by the prospect. “He is?”

Damian looks conflicted. “He is?”

Dick casts his eyes heavenward. “Colin, I’m so sorry.”

Before he can say anything else, the Cave door opens below them, and Duke’s bike comes shooting in, whipping around into its parking spot in a move that would send Dick flying over the handlebars. Bruce takes about half a second to look impressed, and then clears the main screen to pull up their intel on the Falcone case.

“What’s up, guys,” Duke calls, pulling off his helmet and jogging up the steps. “I’ve got news. Where’s Jason?”

“Being hugged, in the library,” Dick tells him. “You just missed it.”

Duke looks nonplussed. “Damn. Wait, that’s not some kind of weird euphemism, is it? If it is, I don’t want to know.”

“It most certainly is not,” Damian says venomously.

“Cool. I tried to get him on the comm, but he didn’t respond. Should I go get him? He’ll want to hear this.”

“Damian will get him,” Bruce says.

Damian is…already on the elevator. Dick spares a thought for Jason. At least he’s holding Dani, so Damian won’t attack him outright.

“Your news?” Bruce prompts.

“Right,” Duke nods. “I’ve been all over City Hall records, and spent yesterday afternoon getting intel in the East End. I’ve got names and faces of most of the major players in this. They’re trying hard to front some distant nephew of Carmine Falcone as the head of the whole operation, but it wasn’t quite adding up. You said the new Falcone boss is a woman, right?” he asks Tim.

Tim nods affirmatively.

Duke looks triumphant. “Then I know who she is.”

***

[mushi-shield]

reason why I really love Tom McDonald music.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I6FmwBPDT-w  "People So Stupid"

What a contradiction, being human is so tragic Focus on minorities, ignoring all the masses Hallelujah, everyone, activism saved the planet No more plastic straws in paper Just paper straws wrapped in plastic, congratulations

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oxJtX081jj4   "WHITEBOY"

I would never hate a man for what God gave him in pigments And I would never plot against him just because he is different I would never judge a human for the cards he was given or Call them lesser than myself 'cause of the race that he's mixed with

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=omMpqbuyDdc   "Straight White Male"

Fine, y'all don't gotta be my friends Y'all don't gotta like white men Y'all don't gotta hold my hand Y'all don't gotta have my back Y'all don't gotta, y'all don't gotta, y'all don't gotta, uh Y'all don't gotta see my side Y'all don't gotta be down to ride Y'all don't gotta do anything but ghost And I'mma do me even when it's the most, yeah

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ita4g_oDyns  "Politically Incorrect"

Don't let 'em censor your thoughts Don't let 'em make you regret that you talked Don't let 'em tell you that nice is the law Tryna make you all right here when nothing is wrong, yeahWords hurt you, clothes hurt you Memes hurt you, jokes hurt you, we hurt you Half the time you don't even probably know what hurt you But you super mad, trust we heard you

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHBMbZdCpSk  "Cancelled"

I don't care if you mad at me, okay? Go ahead and change the channel Don't waste your time tryna cancel me, okay? They love me 'cause they know that I'm an asshole Say what you want, I guess it is what it is Haters can talk but they can't cancel the kid Go 'head and go off, try and say this is it But I swear to God, you can't cancel the kid

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2l6JUNFAJ9o  "Fake Woke"

Use violence to get peace and wonder why it isn't working That's like sleeping with a football team to try and be a virgin Politicians are for sale and someone always makes the purchase But you and I cannot afford it, our democracy is worthless If a man has mental illness call him crazy, say it silently When country's going crazy we accept it as society

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t86ClLM3ZGY  "NO LIVES MATTER"

Freedom's dead, if you have an opinion, take it back (facts) People hate the president, if you don't then you trash (facts) Indoctrinate the nation using news and mainstream rap (facts) The government abuses us, it's all part of the plan (facts)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B2K1xQOp4qo  "White Trash"

This is for my white trash, the ones the whole world hate The ones who voted for Trump, got labeled racist but ain't The ones with ball caps, "Make America Great" Who love their country to death Who struggle on minimum wageAyy, they angry about illegal aliens Takin' work that maybe they could get Single parents with some baby kids Hated for being a patriot All my life, I've been white trash All my life, it's been like that The whole world been left leanin' I'm proud of the right who fight backBeen chewed up and spit out They scream but no one listens They're so in love and vote for Trump 'cause fuck a politician They're our neighbors They're our soldiers, our men and women and children They're middle class families who got forgot by the systemUh, in God we trust and all the guns are just backup Rockin' camouflage, don't tread on me, get smoked like tobacco Yeah, we're white trash, we rednecks, crackers since we were young We grew close, we move slow, these colors don't run

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gT5DpOiQ_WA   "Fake Fans" (DISS) 

Look, I ain't changing for a buck, I ain't changing for a fan I ain't changing nothing up, this is who the fuck I am If you fuck with me, I'll hope that y'all enjoy it Beware of all the fake fans trying to destroy it, yeahI ain't switching it up, I am the man that I was Way before I blew up and everyone fell in love Never once gave a fuck, been doing me from the jump And I will never become the man that you wish I was

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zeb7bVA3pjE   "Im Sorry"

Sorry, that doesn't bother me I don't owe anybody an apology I don't have no regrets in my biology Reload and shoot for the stars, y'all look like astronomy No one as hot as me, copy me commonly Wannabes, y'all are so shockingly comedy Carry the weight of my songs all on top of me I will not break, I'm not made out of potteryBury your bodies on acres of property Place them at angles like sacred geometry Down with modesty Everything I drop is quality Promise, like honestly, follow me

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=83Ntpeih4f4&t=236s  "Buttholes"

Someone's always gonna hate you no matter what Might as well just be yourself and let people think you suck Opinions are like buttholes, everyone got one they cover up And all you gotta do is follow through When you're yelling that you don't give a fuckI ain't letting anyone piss in my Cornflakes Stay the hell out my face, and I will stay out of your way I know that life is cruel, and lately it ain't fair at all You hate your job, your phone is lost, there's evil men and racist cops Yeah, I don't care if you are black or white or gay or straight Or old or young or smart or dumb or where you're from or what you make The only thing I care about is living like I'm not afraid Of dying while I'm sleeping, so I seize it while I'm still awakeWe're so angry, hating everyone we don't know We can't even take a joke, we should really let it go And be happy, stop talking shit on our phones And blocking everyone we know, we've been being buttholes

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ueyNLoRWdao  "American Dreamz"

We're distracted by free porn and compilation videos of puppies and kittens While our children use the internet to bully one another and then purchase ammunition So addicted to your phone that you ignore the kids and never give them any supervision So they learn to build a bomb with things you keep inside your kitchen and you wonder how they ended up with life inside of prison We mourned a dead gorilla, but don't care when it's a person, we're forgetting that we're human We're angry that chickens are being locked up in cages and then forget we do the same to kids in our institutions When they ask you about stupid shit, you tell 'em they should Google it Then you wonder why the troubled youth are homicidal lunatics You think it's tragic when a shooter killed a student But then say it's all a plan for them to change the constitution

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQ4tAbwi31I  "Castles"

  Everybody's got a story; if you look a little closer, you can see it in the wrinkles in their face They can hide it in the silence, they can bury it and fight it, but it comes out when their hair is turning grey You can feel it if you touch 'em, you can tell that they are troubled, you can hear the story running through their veins We all travel different roads, and we put on different clothes; underneath it all, we're really all the same

Everybody has a tale that they're too afraid to tell, you can see it in the cracks in their hands They can cover it with smiles; if you walk a couple miles in their shoes, then you'll know where they stand Everyone who really lived had to climb out of a ditch they were in before they found the right path If you wanna know the truth about what we've been going through, then try to put your phone away so you can ask

We've all got problems, and we all feel alone We've all been haunted by the secrets we hold We could fill our coffins with the rocks they have thrown Or we could build our castles with the sticks and the stones We've all got problems, and we all feel alone We've all been haunted by the secrets we hold We could fill our coffins with the rocks they have thrown Or we could build our castles with the sticks and the stones

We are the neighbors that you'll never meet We are the strangers walking down your street We are a million faces in the crowd We are the ones the system's tearing down We are the people working to survive We are more than just our nine-to-fives We are the shopping malls and streetcars We are one, it's time to tell 'em just who we are

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #223: of Robin Hoods and Roustabouts

September, 1982

Apparently a “roustabout” is an unskilled or casual labor.

And lets admit the obvious that if Hawkeye is either of the two things, he’s a robin hood. And its not inaccurate but be nicer to Scott Lang.

Even if he manages to be even more hapless in this issue then in modern takes that leans into him being a fuck-up.

As for the cover? Pretty striking cover. I’ve been waiting for Hawkeye to shoot Ant-Man at someone. Its apparently an Iconic Avengers moment and to think it first happens in a filler.

Because I’m pretty sure this is a filler. Its written by David Michelinie alone instead of Jim Shooter getting a plotter or co-writer credit. It doesn’t really have anything from the dangling plot threads of Hank Pym or the Masters of Evil.

Between this and and the filler with the immortal child who badly wanted to die and all of the plotter or co-writer credits, you just really get a sense that Jim Shooter did not have time to devote to Avengers anymore.

So what kind of filler will this be? Weird? Impactless? Good Actually? Let’s see!

Well, apparently Hawkeye is going to the carnival so at this point, it could go either way.

I like that Hawkeye has a H belt buckle because that’s the kind of thing that he would do and that I can make fun of him for.

I know that it’s been a while since he’s mentioned kewpie dolls but Hawkeye came from the circus. He and his brother ran away to one when they were little and the Swordsman taught Hawkeye archery. The point being, “he’s come home.”

As in, this is specifically the carnival he used to work before he became very briefly a superhero, and then for slightly longer a supervillain, and then for much much longer a superhero for real.

Point is, he’s been away for a while. But he received a flyer in the mail and decided he just had to come.

Because someone wrote HELP! on the back.

Hawkeye figures that the previous owner’s daughter and current owner Marcy Carson sent it as a goof but heck if she’s going to go to that trouble, he’ll be happy to visit.

So he breezes past the workers outside the owner’s trailer and-

Actually they beat the shit out of him for trying to breeze past them. Goes to show.

When Hawkeye threatens to beat them up for this rude treatment, they get ruder and call him a rube. Can you believe! Him, a former employee himself being called a rube! Also they pull a fancy sci-fi gun on him.

So Hawkeye does buzz off. So he can change into his hawking eye duds and buzz right back on.

Roustabouts carrying laser pistols is very suspicious. And I guess Ant-Man isn’t the roustabout of the title. He’s moving up in the world.

MEANWHILE, Perfectly Ordinary electronics technician, ex-con, and Ant-Man Scott Lang is having a night out with his daughter Cassie. And they’re having a bit of a disagreement.

See, Cassie, future superhero, wants to ride the really cool roller coaster the Spin-’n-Heave. Scott Lang, dad with dumb views on gender apparently, insists that a roller coaster just isn’t ladylike enough and she should ride something more refined like the pony ride or ring toss.

Also, Scott is carrying the Ant-Man suit with him, loose in his pocket. And the helmet just drops out of his pocket and the damn fool would have lost it if Cassie hadn’t spotted it and mistaken it for a marble.

Geez, Scott! I stood up for you!

Scott’s attempts to dad by restricting what his daughter can and can’t do based on his own views on what is ladylike get dropped when he spots Hawkeye hauling ass across the carnival and decides that This Cannot Stand!

Scott Lang Ant-Man may not be an Avenger but dangit he can’t leave a fellow hero in the lurch! He must offer unsolicited aid!

So he caves on the Spin-’n-Heave issue because its a way to keep Cassie occupied for the length of exactly this issue.

Scott gives the operator a bunch of money and tells the operator to let Cassie ride until it runs out and then takes off.

Cassie is thrilled.

Meanwhile, Hawkeye has returned to the owner’s trailer but Marcy is gone and so are the two goons that were guarding the door. But he spots them marching Marcy through the crowd.

The goons are complimenting Marcy on being so cooperative but also say that if she’s not cooperative, her star acts are gonna get fed to the lions. And that might happen anyway once everything is said and done because their boss be like that.

Anyway, that’s when the two get hit by a KRAK THUBB arrow. Punch arrow? It looks nerf-y.

Hawkeye grabs Marcy and runs off with her into a tent so she can explain it all.

But first: he has to notice that she is beautiful. He has been gone a while so, y’know. People grow up or whatever.

Hawkeye: “There, that’s better! Now maybe I can get to the bottom of -- hey! You’re beautiful!”

Marcy: “I’ve waited a long time for you to notice that, ol’ buddy.”

Hawkeye: “Yeah, well, it’s hard noticin’ anything when you’re bein’ tripped into a pile of elephant dirt -- which, as I recall, used to be your favorite pastime!”

Marcy: “People change, Clint.”

Young Marcy sounds like a really interesting person. She certainly gave Hawkeye the business.

Anyway, she explains that it was pure luck that she was able to sneak that message out to him. And that the carnival has been taken over by some freak with powers.

Marcy: “Why, if he even suspected I was in touch with you he’d kill me deader than a Monday night in Des Moines!”

Off-screen Villain: “Nicely put, dumplin’! Should make you a dandy little epitaph!”

SCENE CHANGE TO PRESERVE SUSPENSE

Scott Lang has ducked behind some circus carts to change into Ant-Man.

Except he still has the whole shrunken costume piecemeal in his pockets so the process is one of slapstick. Scott goes digging in his pockets for the suit and accidentally drops it all in the straw.

Then he has to go digging around for the incredibly teeny pieces of gear while realizing that this was a stupid plan.

Maybe he should keep the suit in a tin. Like a mint tin or something.

But he finally gets all the pieces together and uses a safety pin to trigger the enlarging gas to full-size the outfit so he can put it on.

Huh! Enlarging gas! Early days in Avengers, they were all about the logistics of the shrinking and growing for Ant-Giant and the Wasp but it hasn’t been talked about in a long while. Wasp just changes size without the how being discussed.

But if it is Pym Particles, then I guess Scott isn’t at the point yet where his body naturally produces them so he has to use the gas canisters on the belt.

Scott does get dressed in his ant duds and uses the helmet to command some ants to find Hawkeye. And this is a carnival with a lot of dropped funnel cake and cotton candy so you know that there’s plenty of ants available.

SCENE CHANGE because we can only preserve suspense so far.

The mysterious off-screen villain hits the lights in the tent that Hawkeye and Marcy were talking in. Which reveals a bunch of gym and training equipment. It’d be nice if carnivals could provide such robust gym benefits to their workers but I feel that this is actually suspicious, finding this here.

Especially the combat flight simulator.

Hawkeye: “This place looks like a training ground for World War III!”

Off-screen villain, about to be onscreen: “And what better setting for the world’s greatest trainer? Namely... the TASKMASTER!”

Heyyy its the Taskmaster!

I forgot that he was a loose thread. He got away after the THREE-PARTER that introduced him. Then again, I guess since he’s the explanation for where villains get their armies of mooks, he didn’t really need to be tied up because that would defeat the purpose.

Anyway, Hawkeye wasn’t on the team for that three-parter but thankfully, the Avengers take thorough records.

Hawkeye: “Yeah, I remember readin’ about you in the Avengers’ files! You’re some sorta goon peddler!”

Taskmaster: “Watch yer mouth, bow-bender! What I am is a teacher!”

And then he recaps his goon, mook, henchman training business for the audience. He even clarifies that his series of secret academies are going great, thanks, but he’s trying to branch out with a mobile recruiting center.

Aka, this circus. And heck, according to Taskmaster, carnies already come off unscrupulous so having a bunch of goons hanging around won’t stand out.

THE PERFECT CRIME.

Actually. I don’t know if this is a crime? It’s not illegal to do combat training or learn how to fly a plane, probably. Then again, when 100% of your alumni wind up arrested for helping steal the Statue of Liberty, a legal goon school would get a lot of unwanted scrutiny. So best keep it secret.

And of course, extorting the owner and workers of a circus is definitely a crime. Pretty sure.

Anyway, the mobile recruiting center scheme is helped by Marcy telling anyone who asks that the new people hanging around are a new act that isn’t ready to open yet.

Hawkeye is sick of Taskmaster’s smarmy smarm and tries to shoot a grabber arrow? at Taskmaster.

Who just blocks it with his shield.

And takes the opportunity to brag about his photographic reflexes, where he only needs to see a sweet move once and he can do it perfectly.

He shows off by doing some Cap moves and then doing a Spider-Man move. Which he seems to do just to do.

And by Spider-Man move I mean hanging upside down from a line. Which, yes, Spider-Man does do that but it doesn’t really seem that necessary or helpful here and you’re totally doing it just to show off but really you look a little ridiculous.

Taskmaster even shows off some Tigra moves by kicking Hawkeye in the face. Its fun to me that he shows off Tigra specifically. Its for some acrobatics like flippy kick but there’s gotta be other acrobatic heroes. Like Spider-Man.

But Tigra was on the Avengers recently and briefly and dammit, he’s gonna show off what he learned!

Anyway, Taskmaster beats up Hawkeye until he gets bored of it and then just takes Marcy hostage to get Hawkeye to surrender.

He just really wanted to show off some of his sweet moves. And as soon as he ran through five different hero movesets (Cap, Spider-Man, Tigra, Daredevil, and Iron Fist) he’s just like ‘k I’m done’.

Meanwhile, back to Ant-Man ant-again.

He’s lurking around a corner trying to be inconspicuous while children are pointing and asking if he’s a clown. Perhaps realizing that he didn’t need to put on the full costume to use the helmet and that he’s just made himself look foolish.

But some of his ants report in that they’ve found Hawkeye so Ant-Man shrinks down to ride an ant into action.

Wait. Yeah. You could have just shrunken down and perched somewhere to wait for ant reports. You’ve made yourself look a fool and you fully had the power to avoid that in so many ways.

Meanwhile back to Hawkeye yet again, Taskmaster knows that killing an Avenger would attract notice so he’s going to make it look like an accident.

So he’s locked Hawkeye in an electrified cage with a lion, a normal situation that can accidentally happen to anyone. So now when Hawkeye gets mauled to death by the lion, nobody will suspect it was anything but an accident.

Taskmaster walks away because its villain tradition that you don’t watch the heroes you lock in the death traps. That’d just be gauche.

The lion sizes up Hawkeye and decides that he’s food and leaps for the kill!

And Ant-Man grows out from under the lion and throws it into the electrified bars, knocking him out.

Pretty good timing Scott! And that poor attempted man-eater lion! That poor five hundred pound lion! WOW SCOTT, do you work out?

I also feel that Republic Serial has aged poorly for more than just lion tossing.

Ant-Man and Hawkeye get each other on the same page. As it happens, Ant-Man actually has more experience with Taskmaster since he was actually in that three-parter. That’ll give them a tiny, tiny, tiny edge.

They’re still stuck in a locked cage and Hawkeye is like ‘gee whiz shrinking hero guy how can we possibly get out?’

Would you be surprised that Ant-Man just shrinks Hawkeye? Scott does muse that he could probably have picked the lock if he had the tools for it but shrinking just saves time.

Hawkeye does not care for it though.

I don’t know what he’s complaining about. Big sleepy cat even bigger now. You could live in the mane at that size.

You could be a tiny man living in a lion’s mane. Imagine.

Anyway.

Over in Taskmaster’s private tent, he’s telling Marcy she done fucked up calling for Hawkeye and she’s going to wish she was getting mauled to death by a lion in an electrified cage like Hawkeye was.

And Hawkeye does the equivalent of clearing his throat and saying ‘hey dingus, not dead’

Taskmaster reaches for a magnesium flare like he used against the Avengers but Ant-Man’s expert knowledge of meeting Taskmaster one time lets him warn Hawkeye who shoots it out of Taskmaster’s hand.

Taskmaster just questions why they didn’t go for a killshot when they had him surprised and then calls a goon squad on the heroes.

Of course, goon squads being called on heroes is just a setup to make heroes look really cool showing their stuff on some expendable targets.

“While the Taskmaster’s troops have been well-trained for normal combat, they fare woefully poor against these super-normal foes!”

And show their stuff they do. Like Hawkeye leaping around firing net and bola arrows!

And Ant-Man... shrinking down really small to punch a guy’s earlobe.

Look. He’s trying.

Also, Marcy is braining people with a juggling pin like some manner of alien clown because she is exceptionally irate at Taskmaster and his goons.

While the three beat up this crowd of goons, Taskmaster runs off to set up his “escape insurance.”

Ant-Man and Hawkeye chase him into the big top where there’s already a crowd watching the show. And waiting for the human cannonball act.

BUT! Taskmaster is apparently a cartoon villain because he’s replaced the human cannonball with a dummy full of explosives and he’s going to shoot it and blow up the grandstand, killing a couple hundred innocent lives.

Taskmaster tells them they can capture him or they can stop his ridiculous scheme.

Taskmaster: “Have fun decidin’, chumps!”

And then presumably he runs off giggling.

Hawkeye wants to go after Taskmaster and have Ant-Man take care of the nothuman cannonball bomb.

Ant-Man: “No, Hawkeye! There are too many lives at stake! And it may take both of us to stop that cannon!”

Hawkeye: “But we can’t just let that psycho walk! We can’t -- .”

Ant-Man: “Hawkeye! Think about it! Think! Please... !”

Hawkeye: “Yeah, I guess you’re right... blast it.”

Scott Lang has his heart in the right place to be a hero even if he is a bit of a goofus about it. I like you, Scott Lang.

Hawkeye runs back into the tent and shoots the goon manning the cannon with a bola arrow. he gets the goon but the goon falls on the button.

Fortunately, its the elevation control, not the fire button.

Unfortunately, there is no firing button, so the firing cycle is automatic.

Fortunately, hitting the elevation control accidentally made the cannon point up instead of at the grandstand. So the bomb is still going to fall and blow everything up but they have time and Ant-Man has an idea.

He has Hawkeye nock his fastest arrow and jumps on it.

Hawkeye shoots the arrow and hits the explosive filled mannequin in the neck right as it reached the top of its trajectory and hung very briefly in the air.

As the bomb starts to plummet, Ant-Man crawls up the arrow onto the bomb-man and to the detonator.

All too soon the bomb hits the ring

but doesn’t detonate.

Ant-Man managed to defuse the bomb!

And he also managed to survive the fall because of course! He’s not destined to die for a long while and only then in a really dumb way.

Thanks to Scott’s experience of watching Raiders of the Lost Ark twenty-seven times he’s a real expert on jumping from one speeding object to another.

Aka, from the falling bomb to a flying ant. Sure.

The heroes see that Taskmaster has escaped while all this was going on but Hawkeye decides he’ll get him next time.

Also? The audience has thought that this was part of the show the whole time so they’ve loved every second of this.

Soon the other Avengers arrive, too late to take part in the plot but in time to help clean up the goon operation.

Also, She-Hulk is in her tattered white dress outfit again. I really think there was some miscommunication here. Like with having her dressed like that on the previous cover and having her dressed like that here in this filler issue.

She doesn’t wear that anymore but its the Iconic outfit for her so if an artist needs a ref to draw her, they’re probably looking at a picture from her Savage She-Hulk series.

And Scott Lang gets the last page because whoops, he left his daughter on a roller coaster the whole time and forgot her in the heat of the adventure. DAD OF THE YEAR!

Scott runs to find her sitting outside the Spin-’n-Heave looking down, head in hands. Scott is worried that something is wrong with her but

Cassie Lang: “I’m a little tired right now, daddy *yawn* but can we come back an’ ride the ‘Spin-’n-Heave’ again t’morrow?”

Scott Lang: “Tomorrow? Again? *sigh* Kids.”

Hah, she tuckered herself out riding the roller coast over and over again but is game to keep doing it again tomorrow. That’s the Cassie Lang that will grow up to join the Young Avengers!

So, Avengers filler but it wasn’t weird or inconsequential. It doesn’t do anything with the ongoing plots but it feels like it does since Scott Lang has come back into the books recently because of the Hank Pym plot. And it follows up on Taskmaster who has gone unaddressed since his introductory stories.

Its just a nice story and by focusing on a guest star and one of the Avengers doing an impromptu team-up it has some fun energy.

Good times.

Hey. Follow @essential-avengers​ maybe? Its better than the Spin-’n-Heave! ... I can’t actually prove that. But also like and reblog this post because I’m a cool person. ... I can’t actually prove that either...

[just-dreaming-marvel]

SIXTY SEVEN - THE FERRY BOAT

LEGACY: A Tony Stark Daughter Story

MASTERLIST

< previous

Word Count: 1,700ish

Summary: Bailey goes with Peter to try to stop some bad guys.

I went in my sweaty gym clothes and iron suit. I took off the suit before getting on the ferry, wanting it close by but didn’t want the attention draw to me. Peter snuck aboard the ferry in his suit. I sat down as a passenger with headphones in, allowing me to communicate with Peter.

“Okay, KAREN,” Peter whispered, “activate Enhanced Reconnaissance Mode. And make sure that Bailey can hear it too.”

“Sure thing,” KAREN responded.

“He’s up front, main deck,” One man said as KAREN successfully connected my headphones to Peter’s suit.

“I hate this guy,” the another man said.

“It’s the guy from the bridge, right? Who’s that other guy?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “You were there not me.”

“Just keep me posted,” the first man said as the other stood up and walked away.

“There’s no record of him in my criminal database,” KAREN stated. “Incoming call from May Parker. Should I reroute to your heads-up display?”

“Why would she be calling?” I quickly asked.

“I can’t talk right now. I’ll call her back,” Peter responded. “Hey, dronie—“

“Dronie?” I tried to hide my laugh.

“Don’t make fun!” Peter said. “I didn’t have any other good ideas. Dronie, keep an eye on that guy. We can’t let anybody get away this time.” Peter moved up to the front of the ferry. “Who’s the guy on the left?”

“Mac Gargan,” KAREN answered. “Extensive criminal record, including homicide and HYDRA.”

“HYDRA?” I questioned. “How do they get everywhere?”

“Would you like me to activate Instant Kill?” KAREN asked.

“What the heck, Peter?” I exclaimed. “What kind of AI did Tony give you?”

“No,” Peter said, “KAREN, stop it with the Instant Kill already.” Peter paused. “Dronie, scan the ship for a white pickup truck.”

“Is that where they said the meeting is?” I asked. I moved to the seats towards the front of the ferry to get a better vantage point.

“We’ll see,” Peter answered. “Oh, this is too perfect.”

“What is it?”

“We got the weapons, buyers, and sellers all in one place.”

“Incoming call from Tony Stark,” KAREN interrupted.

“What?” I whisper shouted, confused. “You can’t answer it, Peter. Not now.”

“Don’t answer.” Peter commanded. But it was too late.

“Mr. Parker,” Tony greeted. “Got a sec?”

“Uhh..” Peter didn’t know what to say. “I’m actually at school.”

“No, you’re not,” KAREN stated, fortunately Tony was unable to hear that.

“Nice work in DC,” Tony continued. 

“Okay,” Peter nervously said.

“My dad never really gave me a lot of support and I’m just trying to break the cycle of shame,” Tony said. 

“Really?” I muttered, “Break the cycle of shame? You’re not really doing so hot with your actual kid.”

“Um,” Peter said, “I’m kind of in the middle of something right now.” 

“Don’t cut me off when I’m complimenting you,” Tony quickly said. “Anyway, great things are about to hap—“ The ferry horn sounded. “What is that?” 

“Um.. I’m at band practice,” Peter answered nervously.

“Thats odd…” Tony said, “Happy told me you quit band six weeks ago. What’s up?” 

“I gotta go,” Peter quickly said. “End call.”

“Hey,” Tony was angry. But the call was over.

“Peter,” I said, “What’s going on?”

“I’ll take those!” I heard Peter yell. I hurried over to the very front and watched as Peter used his webs to grab the truck keys. Peter jumped down. “Hey, guys. The illegal weapons-deal ferry was at 3. You missed it.” 

I watched him take down those men. I hadn’t seen him use his webs like that before. It was very entertaining. A guy came at him with an alien weapon connected to his hand. Guys were reaching for their guns.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Peter said, “Not so fast.” Peter flew the guys into the wall. “Are you guys okay? My bad. That was a little hard.”

“Do you need my help?” I asked.

“No, I think I got this… I got to say, the other guy was way better with that thing.” Peter refilled his web shooters. “I’m honestly. I’m— I’m shocked.” Peter was about to take down a few more men when,

“Freeze! FBI. Don’t move!” A few FBI officers popped out of no where. “Get on the ground! FBI!” They were aiming their guns at Peter.

“Wait,” Peter said, “What do you mean FBI?”

“The FBI, is the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” KAREN said.

“I know what the FBI means,” Peter answered, “but what are they doing here?”

“Tony must have called them,” I whispered to myself. All of a sudden, there were loud cutting sounds from the car area. The FBI turned towards the sounds. The vulture guy was there. 

“Get out of the way! Get out of the way!” Peter started yelling. I jumped down to him. The vulture guy started shooting. “Bailey, you need to go back upstairs.”

“No!” I grabbed onto him. The vulture shot again. This time hitting someone. Me. I grabbed my side. “Ah!”

“Bailey!” Peter shouted as he reached for me.

“I’ll be fine, remember,” I slowly said. “I’ll heal. Just stop him.” The vulture grabbed a car.

“Look out, look out, look out!” Peter yelled. “Move, move, move!” 

Peter tossed some FBI guys aside as he shouted, before he was slammed against a pole. I had to stop myself from yelling his name. I glanced down at my hand to see there was blood all over it. I looked to my side to see that it was still bleeding. It looked like it had no intention of healing. Why wasn’t I healing? I looked at Peter. He had grabbed onto the vulture by the foot with his webs. The FBI started shooting at the vulture. The vulture started shooting into the ferry. Peter tried to web him up, but the guy kept cutting the webs off of him. Peter got the gun loose from the vulture but it started to work by itself. The vulture flew away as the gun tore the ferry in half. I started to get weak. So as the ferry moved, I was easily thrown to the side. I hit against the railing and couldn’t get up. 

“Bailey!” I heard Peter yell. I couldn’t talk. The blood was coming out too fast. “KAREN give me an x-ray of the boat and target all the strongest points.” People were screaming. “Web grenade. Web grenade.” Peter kept saying. He jumped from each of the strongest points, trying to hold the ferry together with his webs. 

“Yeah, Spider-Man!” I heard a man yell. 

But them the ferry starting falling apart again. Water was gushing over. I gripped onto the rail and tried to pull myself up, slowly making my way to the stairs. I wasn’t fast enough though or strong enough. Something was wrong. I hadn’t felt like this since HYDRA had me. I tried to hold on as tight as I could as the ferry slowly tipped to the side before I felt the ferry slowly start being pushed together.

“What the hell?” Peter wondered, very confused.

“Hi, Spider-Man,” Tony angrily greeted. “Band practice, was it?” Tony was in the Iron Man suit pushing the ferry back together with his other gadgets on each side. The ferry came back together as I let go and slipped down the stairs. 

“Yeah, Iron Man!” I heard the same man as before yell. 

Tony then went the the bottom level and started quickly melting the ferry back together. A part of me was relieved that he was here, but the other was scared and still didn’t want to see him. I was scared of how he’d react finding out that I was here. 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said, following him. “Mr. Stark!” But Tony ignored him. “Bailey’s injured.”

Tony paused. “What? Who?”

“Bailey,” Peter carefully said. “She should be at the front of the ferry. She got shot, she’s not healing.” Tony quickly flew to me. My vision was getting blurry.

“Bailey!” I heard Tony yell. My eyes were struggling to stay open. “Look at me kid! Keep your eyes open.” 

“I’m—I’m sorry,” I quietly said. “There’s… something… wrong.”

“It’s okay,” Tony whispered, “I have you.” He gently lifted me into his arms.

“Mr. Stark, can I do anything?” Peter asked. “What do you want me to do?”

“I think you’ve done enough,” Tony stated as we flew off. He held me close. I couldn’t figure out where we were headed. I was unable to keep my eyes open anymore. “FRIDAY, tell me how she’s doing. Call Helen Cho. Will she make it back to the facility?”

“Helen Cho is in the City and is on her way to the Tower,” FRIDAY answered. “She won’t make it to the facility, Boss. She’s not healing, she’s lost a lot of blood and is still continuing to lose some.” 

Tony went faster. Landing on the landing pad of the Tower, he rushed in and carried me straight to the Med-Bay. Pepper was already in there, FRIDAY having told her that something had happened.

“Oh my gosh!” She yelled. “Tony, what happened?” Tony ignored the question and set me down on the bed. “Tony, she’s bleeding out. Why isn’t she healing?” 

“I’m running some tests on that, Ms. Potts,” FRIDAY answered. I heard Tony’s suit open up. A hand touched my side.

I cried out in pain. “Ah!” It was getting harder to breathe. Quickly, a hand was on my face, gently rubbing my cheek, trying to calm me down. 

“I’m right here, kid,” Tony whispered. “I’m right here.” I heard the lab doors open and some foot steps. 

“Mr. Stark,” a lady said. “We’re going to need you and Ms. Potts to wait outside. We’ll take it from here.” I felt a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Tony whispered. “Everything is going to be okay.” I heard him climb back into his suit and it shut around him.

“Where are you going?” Pepper asked.

“I’m going to talk to Mr. Parker,” Tony answered. “I’ll be back soon.” And he flew off and I passed out.

next >

[ayusaurus]

I’ve been seeing this topic come up way too often on Twitter recently and I just need to vent, but: Can we please stop equating fiction with real life. And I mean that in the sense that fiction, while incorporating elements of reality, does not represent reality as a whole.

I say this because a voice actors recently got harassing and dangerously threatening messages for the work she did on TLOU2.

Like regardless of what your feelings are of the game, she is a paid actress voicing a character. She is NOT the character herself.

I know that fiction can be harmful, I know that it can be used to create things we are uncomfortable or triggered by. But we need to be able to discern reality from fiction because this moral policing and “wokeness” that was pushed by purists within fandoms, winds up hurting actual people. It’s a way to shush people from being able to use fiction as a catharsis when there is no availability of therapy. You threaten to disallow spaces for people to interact with ideas that would be wrong, unsafe, or illegal, in a place where you can do so safely with consent.

There is a reason people tag things. There is a reason blacklists exist. Creators are not responsible for your mental wellbeing outside of tagging things so you can make the personal decision of wanting to consume that product. By putting all blame on creators and media, without having the nuance of rational and critical thinking, you are forcibly removing responsibility from yourself.

I say this because when Columbine happened back in the 00’s (I believe,) people were so quick to point fingers and say video games are to blame because the shooter played video games. But while it MAY have been a cause, what went overlooked was the fact that this kid had things emotionally/mentally that went unaddressed to where he wound up committing a mass shooting. There’s only so far that the excuse of what he consumed can be traveled before the root cause need to be examined.

Like, I myself have played shooter games, and never once have I thought, “lemme go grab a gun and shoot someone.” Never once have I consumed sexual media that was outside of the vanilla realm and thought “man I’d love to do some of this stuff without consent.” I’ve never once saw Spider-Man and thought” I should really break into a train station so I can get bit by a spider and gain its super powers.”

If we keep pointing fingers at the media, compared to addressing the underlying cause of our discomfort, we will never actually make the changes needed to progress forward. We will continue to dumb ourselves down in society because it’s far easier to blame the fictional worlds, universes, alternate realities, than it is to do the hard work of making changes. And if you say we should ban ALL problematic fiction, then you’re setting up a framework which threatens the whole realm of fiction. Because certain topics may be banned today, but eventually down the line, there isn’t any room to wiggle and you find everything is gone. The room to be allowed a voice no longer exists.

Fiction can be a positive place. We all use it to escape reality. We use it to explore things we’ve never had and have wanted, like love, family, friends, wealth, healthy sexual encounters, and all of that is valid. But many people want to use fiction to give their trauma and pain a voice that they maybe never had the strength to voice in their own lives. Some people may want to explore dark themes because understanding why things happen and what causes it leads to a growth in perhaps better attacking real life themes. Some people just want to use fiction just to blow off steam and do things they know is illegal irl and would never do to hurt someone irl.

And yes, there are people who will use fiction to manipulate people, but we need to stop viewing the tool of media as being just as bad and worth locking away as the individual using manipulative tactics in conjunction with media. Because the fictional media is not the problem, the individual who is using that media maliciously to hurt others is.

We also need to do a better job, or I should say parents and teachers need to do a better job in helping kids and students understand where fiction ends. We need to teach kids how to better interact with problematic themes and how to step away from things or blacklist things that make them uncomfortable. Just like if you don’t like the color blue in your own clothes, you don’t buy it, then if you don’t like themes of domestic violence, you don’t consume it.

However I will also add, there is a place for consuming problematic media for the sole purpose of understanding why it’s bad and dissecting the themes which make it bad so we can be better equipped to handle such topics. We have to also understand why it’s so problematic under an educated situation or else we will keep having these back and forth, black and white, no room for debate charged talks of why problematic content shouldn’t be allowed. Additionally, the less we allow problematic content, the more people will be drawn to it, the more people won’t have a safe area to explore those topics, the more likely they will be to hurt others. Like IRL, teen pregnancy was pretty high when I was in HS and that was becaus instead of talking about pregnancy, sex, contraception, etc, ppl acted like abstinence was the only way. They neglected to understand that teens do have sex drives, they want to understand them better, and without more open education, they then turn to fiction to understand it. Which is dangerous. Instead of doing the work of addressing topics irl, it gave more voice and responsibilities to creators who may have been using fiction as a therapeutic tool when they may not have had access to traditional therapy.

Like I get it, I really do. I have my own history of trauma, but I’m not about to demand fiction to stop existing - because when it’s all said and done, erasing fiction does not erase the hurt or real life consequences I have to live with. It does not do any good to dismantle a space for people to have room to explore topics in fiction. It does not do any good to try and ban things in hopes that it will stop. Because let me assure you, even if fictional media gets banned, other tools can and will be used by shitty people who intend to harm. And we need to be willing to acknowledge and accept that, because bullying and harassing people over fictional media is disgusting, and puts them on a similar level as the problematic media they are trying to fight against, except they are the ones causing actual harm. If you can’t see that, then that’s part of the problem and you’ve been, frankly, brainwashed to believe that as long as the problematic media goes away, any means to get there is justified. That is not, and should never be okay, and we need to do better in understanding that it’s a tool used by manipulators who want to do harm under a pretense of “the moral good” and/or “think of the children,” when they themselves don’t do anything to ensure real life children are staying safe and being protected in their communities. You can’t moral police if you aren’t willing to stand up for actual children, or victims of any kind, if you think fictional realities have more weight than real life.

Because it doesn’t.

Overall, we really, really, need to do better in understanding and combatting that, otherwise we are no better than bystanders who look at things going on IRL and letting them happen. We need to not equate what someone likes in fiction being a tell for who they are individually. We need to do better in educating ppl how to interact with content they do not like. We also need to do better in pushing for better mental healthcare and making it more affordable. We need to do a lot, but we need to stop pointing the finger at fictional media and actually combat the root issues.

[beardedmrbean]

After an Orthodox Jewish man was shot while walking to his synagogue on the Sabbath in Rogers Park, Chicago, last weekend, media outlets quickly gathered and disseminated information about the victim’s background. It was the media that also first confirmed that the suspect, 22-year-old Sidi Mohamed Abdallahi, was a Mauritanian national who was in the U.S. illegally.

After the attack, fear rose within Chicago’s Jewish community about the lack of information from the Chicago Police Department and Mayor Brandon Johnson, who took five days to acknowledge the religious background of Abdallahi’s Jewish victim. Police also did not tell the public what Abdallahi shouted while shooting at officers, refusing to confirm the substance of Ring camera footage that was circulating, although they did acknowledge that "there was something stated."

Richard Goldberg, a senior adviser at the Foundation for Defense of Democracies, told Fox News Digital that "there is a clear cover-up going on to seal off information flow before next week’s election. They knew about the shooter’s illegal status from the moment they ran his ID."

"This should be a national scandal," Goldberg added.

Abdallahi’s address, listed in a police news release, is 27 miles from Rogers Park. Goldberg noted that he went out of his way to travel a significant distance for the alleged attack.

The suspect's alleged antisemitic motives then became a key theme during the Oct. 31 news conference where Chicago Police Superintendent Larry Snelling announced long-awaited additional felony charges against Abdallahi for a hate crime and terrorism, bringing the total number of charges against Abdallahi to 16. 

"We did not secure these charges because of public pressure or because of media attention," Snelling told reporters. "Gathering evidence and facts takes time." Snelling explained that detectives had been unable to interview Abdallahi, who remains hospitalized after being shot by police. Evidence on the suspect’s phone "indicated he planned the shooting and specifically targeted people of the Jewish faith." 

Chicago officials did not provide details about Abdallahi’s immigration status in their news conference. U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) spokesperson Erin Bultje confirmed to Fox News Digital that Abdallahi was apprehended while entering the country near San Ysidro in March and was subsequently released inside the U.S. 

"It’s pretty obvious what happened here," said Goldberg, a former NSC official in the Trump administration. "We have an act of terrorism committed by someone who entered the country illegally and was allowed to stay under Biden-Harris policies. And the second Democratic officials realized the potential impact that might have on the presidential election, they panicked and tried to lock down information flow. But the Jewish community fought back."

[aridara]

Gun control: common “objections”.

“Gun control doesn’t work.”

It does. Strict gun control significantly decresses shootings (especially mass shootings), gun violence, and suicide rates. You can see this by confronting countries with gun control (for ex. Japan, Australia, Canada, the United Kingdom, Switzerland...) with equivalent countries without gun control (USA). Hell, you could see this by confronting USA states with gun control and USA states without it.

“Guns make you safer.”

They don’t. Having a gun at home makes you significantly less safe.

“Countries with gun control...”

Halt. I need to interrupt you to give you some important advices, that could prevent you from making mistakes later on.

“How much gun control does Country X have” and “How many guns are owned by Country X’s civilians?” are two ENTIRELY DIFFERENT questions.

There’s countries that have strict gun control and where a lot of civilians have guns; and there’s countries where, despite not having strict gun control, not many civilians have guns. So, when you talk about countries with/without strict gun control, make sure to use statistics about gun control. “In Country X, lots of civilians have guns” doesn’t tell me whether Country has gun control or not.

Bad socio-economic situations (like poverty, famine, war...) means higher rates of violent crime.

This means that, if you want to see how gun control (or lack of gun control) influence violent crime rates, you REALLY should confront countries that have a similar socio-economic situation. Don’t confront a poor country with a rich one, because you’ll just ruin your observations.

High social pressure means higher suicide rates.

This means that, if you want to see how gun control (or lack of gun control) influence violent crime rates, you REALLY should confront countries that have a similar social situation. For example, Country A puts a lot of pressure onto its citizens to work as hard as possible, to the point of mass exhaustion and stress-induced illnesses? Don’t confront it with Country B, that doesn’t have these issues.

Articles that falsely claim that there’s an epidemic of crimes committed by immigrants are NOT valid evidence.

This is self-explanatory. If the article is false, you obviously can’t use it as evidence that there’s a crime epidemic.

“But Chicago...”

Chicago is right next to two states that have very low gun control. And, thanks to the USA’s bullshit “we don’t like gun control” policy, they do jack shit to prevent people from going ot Wisconsin/Indiana, get a gun there, and then return to Chicago. Don’t blame gun control for stuff caused by the lack of gun control.

“Mass shootings are a disproportionately tiny minority of deaths! Therefore, it’s not an important issue.”

You know what’s also a disproportionately tiny minority of deaths, compared to EVERY OTHER kind of death? Car-related accidents. Hearth disease. Drug use. And guess what? For all of them, we decided to do stuff to reduce them.

Also, the USA has a disproportionately huge amount of mass shootings, compared to equivalent countries that have strict gun control. This shows that there’s something going on.

On top of that, there’s not just mass shootings. There’s other gun-related crimes, there’s suicides, and there’s deadly accidents.

“Most guns used in crimes have been acquired illegally! That shows that gun control doesn’t work!”

No, that shows that the USA’s lack of strict gun control allows a lot of criminals to get a gun illegally. And yes, I’m ABSOLUTELY including the gun show bullshit.

“But guns are used defensively a lot more often, compared to when guns are used to do crimes!”

Besides the fact that the claim itself is questionable... so what if it’s true?

If we apply strict gun control, some people will still have guns, and therefore still be able to defend themselves. Some people will be able to defend themselves just fine without guns. And some people won’t have to defend themselves because strict gun control will reduce the general danger. Where’s the problem?

“But gun owners stop mass shootings!”

That claim is, once again, questionable.

“98% of mass shootings happen in gun-free zones!”

Halt. Before I can accept your claim, you must pass two simple challenges.

If you claim is about MASS SHOOTINGS, then you have two options. One is to consider all mass shootings. The second is to ignore certain kinds of mass shootings, but explain what kinds of mass shootings you ignored.

If your claim is about GUN-FREE ZONES, then you have two options. One is to explain what definition of “gun-free zone” you’re using (without lying, obviously). The second is to use a definition of “gun-free zone” that excludes areas where civilians are allowed to carry guns.

“Taking away guns doesn’t reduce suicide rates. Suicidal people will just use something else.”

False. Suicidal impulses tend to be brief; if you have a suicidal impulse but there’s some obstacles in the way (like, saying, not having a gun readily available), it’s more likely that you’ll give up on the suicide attempt.

On top of that, guns are pretty lethal. Other suicide methods are less reliable - which means a higher chance that the victims will be saved.

“Taking away guns doesn’t reduce violent crime rates. Violent people will just use something else.”

False. Violent crime rates are reduced - particularly those related to gun crimes.

Even if violent people decided to use a different weapon, they’ll have to either use less lethal weapons (for ex. knives); or they’ll be forced to use more difficult methods (for ex. building a bomb). In either case, it means less victims.

Even IF we assume that knives are just as lethal as guns / bombs can be obtained as easily as guns... then why are you worried about gun control? Just get a knife / bomb.

“Guns don’t kill people. People kill people.”

But people with guns have a much easier time killing.

Also, in case you didn’t notice, we ARE talking about people. Specifically about when and how people can get guns.

“But gun control won’t eliminate crimes completely!”

No, but it will significantly reduce them.

Also, by your same logic, the lack of gun control hasn’t completely eliminated crime, so we should throw away that.

“Mass shooters are mentally ill. We should help mentally ill people, not ban guns.”

Compared to neurotypical people, mentally ill people are disproportionately more likely to be the victims of a violent crime, and disproportionately less likely to be the perpetrators of a violent crime.

As for helping mentally ill people... who is advocating against that? What, do you believe that we must choose between “strict gun control” and “help mentally ill people”? That’s nonsense.

“But the 2nd Amendment says ‘Shall Not Be Infringed’!”

It’s an amendment. Not God.

And even then, it also says “well-regulated militia”.

And even then, people who like to say “The 2nd Amendment says ‘Shall Not Be Infringed’!” also have absolutely no problems with taking away said amendment from the people they don’t like. So you’ll have to excuse me if I’m not that impressed with your 2nd Amendment.

“Now it’s not the time to talk about gun control.”

Quick question: WHEN do you believe it’s the “right” time to talk about gun control?

Because people who say “Now it’s not the time to talk about gun control” often believe that it’s NEVER the time to talk about gun control. Which is bullshit.

“You want to ban guns!”

Halt. You’re allowed to use that argument ONLY if your opponent actually wants to ban guns altogether.

However, if your opponent just wants to regulate guns, then you’re distorcing their arguments so much, it goes into strawmanning territory. It’s like claiming that Italy’s policy on driving licenses is the same as Saudi Arabia’s previous policy of forbidding women to drive. So fuck off.

“In the last centuries, many countries committed genocide against their own population. They were all pro-gun-control.”

You’re so full of shit, that when your teeth hurt, you go to someone who works with septic tanks.

For starters, you’re once again talking about a gun ban. You’re allowed to use that argument ONLY if your opponent actually wants to ban guns altogether.

Second: many of those countries actually did NOT have strict gun control for their citizens. See for example Nazi Germany. (Not to mention that, if “let’s prevent a group of people from having guns, but let’s allow our citizens to freely have guns” counts as “pro-gun-control”, then the USA itself has always been extremely pro-gun-control since at LEAST 1900.)

Third: many countries have strict gun control, and somehow they are NOT committing genocide towards their own population. Or anyone else.

In short: your association between gun control and the fucking Nazis is extremely, impossibly dishonest.

“I have graphs!”

Good for you.

----------------------------------------

In case you end up debating against another anti-gun-control person, feel free to use these handy guides:

12 perfect responses to irrational pro-gun arguments (Salon)

4 gun nut arguments that debunk themselves (Cracked)

How to argue with gun nuts (OurFuture)

NRA supporters can’t debate the facts on assault weapons, so they use this dumb argument (ThinkProgress)

So you want to argue with a gun nut? (The Good Men Project)

Suggestions for debating a gun nut: don’t bother (Daily Kos)

Ten lies distort the gun control debate (Forbes)

[adambethyname-blog]

What I Learned Talking About Guns For 5 Days

Like clockwork, every single left-wing activist who owns the box set of “Die Hard” on Blu-Ray and thinks they’re a firearms expert, projectile vomited all over social media with their demands for “new and innovative��� gun control measures that would thwart (or would have thwarted) the next tragic mass shooting.

Rather than be snarky and debate the merits of gun control (which have failed in the Chicago, Los Angeles, and New York) I took a decidedly different position this time around. I purposely asked questions of everyone who posted their anger about the lack of gun control that SURELY would have stopped the shootings in Dayton, Ohio and El Paso, Texas. My goal was to learn exactly why those who wanted gun control wanted what they wanted and why they thought their solution would work.

The results were both surprising and not surprising at the same time. Here are the six things that I learned after five days of endless commenting on Facebook and Twitter:

• People overwhelmingly think that universal background checks are the fix-all for mass shootings: The person who gathered the most shrapnel in the gun control argument this past week was Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell. “If ONLY he would bring the gun control bill that passed the House to the floor of the Senate! BLOOOOOOOOD is on his HANDS!!” To read social media you would think this is it. This bill is the Holy Grail, the Ark of the Covenant, and the Infinity Gauntlet all wrapped into one. We’ll be able to melt the faces of any shooter who dares to try and shoot up a mall, IF ONLY Charles Manson McConell would bring the damn bill to the Senate floor. Anyone who waxed poetic about this bill, I asked what was in the bill that would have stopped these past two shootings. Everyone bounced back with he response “universal background checks.” I would then ask what universal background checks actually did. To their credit, everyone actually tried to answer... no one got it right. One of my favorite responses was “...background checks are not universal, don’t cover enough of a check, and don’t typically include waiting periods.” So apparently a “universal” background check will...what? Check for crimes you might have committed in another galaxy? It’s intergalactic gunmen who are perpetrating these shootings. The truth is, a universal background check adds a specific transaction to the list of firearm transactions that require a background check. It means that you can’t sell your pistol on Craigslist to someone who answers your ad. The anti-gun crowd will reference something call the “gun show loophole” which does not exist because you don’t need a gun show to sell a gun to another person. Of the mass shootings that occurred over the past 10 years, guess how many shooters acquired their gun via this method. Exactly ZERO. Either they purchased the gun legally (Dayton, El Paso, San Bernardino), stole them (Sandy Hook), or the system failed on a governmental level to prevent someone who should not own a gun from getting one (Charleston). No shooter blindly bought a weapon at a gun show from an unsuspecting seller. Now the unintended consequence of this means that in order to buy your wife a gun, before you give it to her, she needs a background check. If you want to sell a gun to your neighbor, the neighbor needs a background check. And each one of those costs money. Heaven forbid you oppose a universal background check... you’re met with “YOU LOVE SEEING DEAD CHILDREN, DON’T YOU?!?” Regardless, a universal background check would have stopped exactly zero shootings.

•People STILL don’t know what a “semi-automatic” weapon is: “No one outside of the military has need (sic) for a weapon that fires multiple rounds of bullets,” was my favorite response. “Multiple rounds of bullets.” My head is sore from palm-slapping my face. Failure to actually know what a semi-automatic weapon is isn’t limited to idiots on the internet. Hillary didn’t know. Bernie didn’t know. It’s sad that the people who know the least about guns are the ones making the policies. In short, a semi-automatic gun fires ONE round per ONE pull of the trigger. Upon firing another round is chambered and if you pull the trigger again, a second round will fire. In truth, most modern revolvers function the same way as the cylinder spins moving the next bullet into firing position. To put it another way, it’s a gun that fires one bullet at a time each time you pull the trigger. To put it even another way, it means that your gun will fire exactly one bullet when you pull the trigger one time. Does it sound like I typed the same thing three times? It should, because I did. And despite that, it STILL won’t sink in. Again, this is where the “Die Hard Box Set” people become dangerous because they think you’re just unloading streams of bullets and you’re not. You’re talking about an AUTOMATIC weapon. If you want to know what an automatic weapon is and you like getting your gun knowledge from movies, watch the last ten minutes of “Rambo: First Blood Part II.” Speaking of the military, that leads me to my next point....

•People think the guns you buy at Walmart or sporting goods stores are the same ones the military use: I had someone tell me that because of the “gun show loophole” it allows people to access to “weapons of war” because those guns don’t legally meet the requirements for a background check. “Thus, easy access to a weapon of war,” he responded smugly. Oh, you poor little simpleton. NO. The military does NOT use AR-15s or AK-47s (which is hilarious because an AK-47 is Russian). The military uses AUTOMATIC weapons which are (for the most part) illegal for civilians unless you jump through a bunch of hoops and pay a LOT of fees. They’re RARELY used in crime. I honestly think sharp sticks are use more in crimes than automatic weapons, although I could use a SNOPES fact check on that one.

• They’re obsessed with telling you what you NEED: “No one NEEEEEEEDS a weapon of war capable of killing millions of people! Next you’ll want a NUCLEAR BOMB!” Oy vey. Did Rosa Parks NEED to sit at the front of the bus? The back of the bus was going to the same place as the front. Your rights are unequivocal and don’t have to be justified to anyone. Can I tell a gay person “you don’t NEED to marry your partner. You can just live with them and share bills?” No, of course not.

•No one can tell you what an assault rifle is: When someone would post that they wanted assault weapons banned I would instantly reply, “Well, what’s an assault rifle?” to which I am greeted with “Well it’s a weapon that can shoot a lot of bullets at once time” or something to that effect. The Assault Weapons Ban of 1994 which is now expired actually went so far as to define an “assault weapon” very clearly, but no one has thought to go and read these parameters. Oddly enough, all of the criteria for defining an assault weapon was based on cosmetic features. For example, a pistol grip, a collapsible stock, a barrel shroud, a threaded barrel, and even a bayonet lug (that’s the connection apparatus for a bayonet. You don’t nee to HAVE a bayonet, you just need the lug to connect one if you choose). None of these features change the functionality of the weapon in ANY WAY. Even the New York Times had to admit the term was invented by Democrats when they wanted to ban SOME KIND of guns.

• Finally, if you try and explain any of these details to set the record straight in the interest of accuracy, you will be called “ignorant,” or be accused of using “talking points” or you’re attempting to create confusion with “semantics”: Heaven forbid you want to help someone STOP looking like an imbecile. In one conversation, I provided nothing but definitions and facts I cut and pasted from the Florida Department of Law Enforcement’s web site. Someone told me “I got sick of seeing your ignorant GOP posts and talking points.” When I defined the myth of the “gun show loophole” to someone I was told “don’t battle wordplay with me dude.” Providing an accurate definition of something is “wordplay.” “You like to use semantics to win arguments.” Uh yeah... they’re called facts.

So what I learned in this exercise in futility is that the gun control crowd isn’t interested in facts. They’ve basically invented or imagined these issues in their head and legitimate efforts to set the record straight are met with tears and tantrums like a 10 year old being told there was no Santa Claus. And I purposely stayed away from philosophical or legal debates while doing this; I stuck to the dictionary. In closing, no one is going to win this argument. There’ s just varying degrees of losing.... and laughing at how idiotic the other side is.

[sozuu]

This is going into politics of the recent shooting:

Sooooo if you don’t want to hear my rant about trump or have had enough of it in my blog just skip it and might as well stop following me. This is very important to me and my ideals.

So hi, i’m Hispanic and I live in the DFW(Dallas Fort Worth) area. The man that just did the El Paso shooting is from Dallas. I’m also adopted into a white family so I know nothing of what the Hispanic families are going through but I do know this. I’m proud of my heritage but everyday I’m getting more and more worried that because of the color of my skin I’ll get targeted, shot, hurt, and/or taken to those camps on the border because of these attacks. This isn’t the happiest story but it happens too often and it’s what happened to my biological mother. She was 19 when she had me. Nineteen. in a country she doesn’t speak the language of with my grandma and 5 other kids before me. Fucking 19 and already having her 6th kid. And no father to raise them with my father left before I was born like the other 5 kids’ father. Now try to imagine what she with my step brothers and sisters that I have never met are going through with all this crap going on. My family and people are getting more and more Wyeth trump and his politics. It started with the wall and now evolved to mass shootings targeting one race because of them trying to get a better life for these kids. Please note I’m also starting 9th grade in a few weeks in a mostly Indian and white school where the Hispanics are 3-ish% of the school district. Everyday I’m not thinking where I want to be in a few years in college. Where I want to go. What I want to do. I’m thinking about my family I never met and will probably never meet. Everyday my thoughts are plague with worry that me going to the mall might’ve my end because of a shooting. That me just going on the bus to school will get me killed. Kids shouldn’t have to be worried about their lives because of what’s going on. But here we are. And it started with trump. And his ideals of racism, then getting the illegal immigrants out. The fact that the shooters are white not black, brown, or yellow says something about our times. This is what happened in Germany and what caused the genocide of Jews. Someone in our case trump. Tells the country he will make the country great he will get rid of the illegal immigrants. Just like hitler getting rid of the Jews and how he wanted to make Germany great again. Trump is promoting racism and racist acts. I would go with that the shooters have mental health issues but they don’t they are just white people that because of their race they are better just like what hitler did to Germany against the Jews. Trump is the 21ist century version of hitler and is targeting Hispanics because of our color and parents wanting the best for their kids. Also the immigrantion system is for the rich. You need a lot of money and time. But the people who can do immigrantion legally won’t leave because they are rich and can make business is large towns. The people who need to immigrate are the poor parents who want to leave the small town they live in with drug lords in and around their town. That’s the reason they come illegally to give their kids a chance to live in a country with better healthcare, school systems, support, and less drugs that is like the drug lords. They can’t come because of the immigrantion system. America is not getting better. Out of anything it’s getting worst. Within 24 hours of El Paso another shooting happened we all know this and it’s bad that we are getting used to mass shootings. America has the most mass shooting and mass majority are targeted to Hispanics. We need to change something to fix this. I wish this was all a dream I can wake up from. That I can wake up and I don’t have to worry about getting shot in school, the mall, church, movie theater or just minding my own business. But I can’t cause it isn’t and everyday I wake up scared that it might be my last if I’m at the wrong place at the wrong time. This NEEDS to change. I don’t want anymore kids to have to experience being threatened for something they can’t control like how I am with many others. No one should so we must change this for all kids not just kids of color but all.

[spoopthatdoop]

'Fake news'... is it a problem?

Hello again everyone, i just wanted to post a little something in regards to the essay i am writing for one of my classes at university in regards to fake news because, wow, i found a lot of information. Some of which are humorous examples of misinformation and others that have proven to be harmful.

Im sure a lot of you have heard the term fake news at least a thousand times because of the uprise of Donald Trump and his election. But did you know this term (fake news) is problematic to the delicate content of what is in fact, information disorder?

Im going to be short since this is a dragging topic, yet it is one we should be aware of. I know a lot of us scroll through tumblr, facebook, instagram and other platforms seeing first hand the viral nature to fake news. Here i will give a short list of examples to misinformation, disinformation and malinformation and just how these categories of what is widely 'information disorder'— fit into the picture.

Misinformation — this term is used within information disorder; that has been generated with no intent to harm but all in all; is still false. Such as Justin Bieber eating a burrito sideways. Did anyone else see that? In fact that photo was a fake, the man was a 'doppelgänger'-look-alike of Justin himself and was sent to America to shoot those controversial photos because seriously, who eats a burrito sideways? Thats madness!

Disinformation — disinformation is actually intwined a lot with misinformation, just with a bit more seriousness involved. The content of disinformation is deliberated shared and created to decieve the readers. Its the soul purpose in the creator/s mind. The group of visual artists and photographers that had the decieving idea to share a fake Justin Beiber eating a burrito works with this category.

Malinformation — this is where it gets serious guys. Malinformation is the creation of harmful conent with the underlining intent to in fact, harm. This stuff is what is put out there to strike some fear into the readers mind, scare them, hurt them and worry them. We see this a lot these days with islamic content and the mislead of muslims, to the mass shootings and the killers purpose all the way to the defamation of celebrities and rumours, sex scandals and illegal doings. Such as the Pizza shop incident, a store innocently known to sell some great pizzas. Rumours spread that this shop was in fact the show down of a sex ring scandal involving Hillary Clinton and other famed members. The malinformation spread like wildfire, as a rumour that complex would, and resulted in a shooter to come in one day with a rifle. Luckily, no one was injured. But it is a prime example of malinformation.

In saying all of this, my research in information disorder and such else has shown me a few things. Ill list them here.

Information disorder can be commonly involved in political events such as elections (as we saw with Donald Trump) and allegations. Which makes sense, politics is politics, if things werent to be misconstrued there then where else? Exactly, 'where else', everywhere.

Information disorder and its spread actually causes more harm than good once we disregard the 'entertainment hit' we get from gossip and content. Such as false body imaging, which stronger leads to the rise in eating disorder. Research shows body image and false imaging of standards can impact eating disorders, causing women and men to avenue their lives through unhealthy paths.

Unbelieveable content is in fact, believeable. I saw so many stories that were a big 'wtf!' Moment in my mind. I questioned how on earth could something like this be believeable to not just a few people but hundreds upon millions.

Habits. I learnt this not in my research but in a book i am reading. The spread of information falseness can in fact be linked to our daily habits, the ones like brushing our teeth and how we get out of bed, how we spend our day. A lot of us find a habit much like flossing, in the process of 'fake news'. Habits are a cue, response, reward type deal. And if we are going to put this into media terms we would say this:

Cue — a controversial 'fake news' topic blindly hidden within allegations and media. Such as what i said about Justin Beiber side ways burrito or a news article on mass shootings etc.

Response — share it! The brain almost unknowingly most times, tells you to share it with the intent it will get that reward. Without thinking to much into 'is this real?' You are most likely just going to like and share, right? Everyone has done it.

Reward — likes, comments, shares. Attention. When others see the topic you shared and like it, its almost as great as someone liking your new profile picture. Your opinion, your freedom of speech? It was heard by that person. It was liked and shared therefore you as a person feel good. This is the reward process.

I was amazed just how much i have learnt so far on this topic. And how it has led to the paychological impacts to individuals and surrounding society. I think the fact i can write this essay and link it to a psychological aspect is great since that is something i want to study in the future and i was amazed to find out just how much psychology is involved in things like this.

That is all for now everyone, i hope you found this just as interesting as i did. Who knows, maybe you even share the same view as me. Heres just a little section id like to take for you to get to know me a little, send some asks, it could be on anything i dont mind. Is there a topic youd like to see my opinion on? Ask away. Or do you just want to ask something weird like 'do you put milk in before cereal?' Im fine with that too.

P.s. cereal before milk, always!

[atheistforhumanity]

Can There be Unity Around Mass Shootings?

Mass shootings have been continuing at a regular interval in America and everyone is confused in somewhat on why this keeps happening. Mass shootings have led to two conclusions: that we need more preemptive care for mental illness and that gun ownership should be controlled. Unfortunately, both of these issues are highly politicized and they really shouldn’t be. What we are talking about is a public health crisis and we need to agree to address these issues.

You may think that mental health is the easy fix, right? Doesn’t everyone understand that poor mental health contributes to mass shootings and other forms of violence? Don’t we all want to prevent these things?

Unfortunately, mental health falls under that category of social services, and the complicated category of healthcare. This has made the issue historically embattled where liberals want to spend big on social programs for the mentally ill, addicted, homeless, and education. In this case I’m referring to counselors and psychologists in school as well as programs that educate about mental health. As someone who has worked in the field of addiction and mental health in the past, I can tell you these areas are severely under funded. Unfortunately, Republicans have resisted spending in these areas, it was not until the 90′s that decent spending for addiction treatment began, but it was too late to head off the opioid crisis. Now that most people have accepted that the war on drugs didn’t work every politician is talking about spending on treatment services.

Haven’t the past couple years of mass shootings brought a change in attitude toward funding mental health? Well, not exactly. If you listen to politicians making statements after a tragedy you might think the problem was fixed, but the truth is that both our government and the public are still not very keen on spending big money on mental health. A recent study by John Hopkins revealed that after explaining either the barriers to treatment or the link to violence around mental health not even 60% of participants wanted to pay more taxes to help those in need. To make matters worse, Trump’s budget plans will be an overall loss for mental health. Here are 5 articles that talk about Trump’s budget and mental health.

How Trump's Budget Will Affect People with Mental Health Conditions

He should put his money where his mouth is

Trump’s budget cuts

Expanding mental health services?

Call for action, but budget cuts programs

The short version is that while he puts a lot of spending into the opioid crisis, funding for key programs in other areas gets cut and moved around leaving a net void for those with mental health issues. As is typical with Republicans, Trump will be putting a large amount of spending into defense and homeland security.

So while I think everyone acknowledges the idea that mental health is important to the issue of mass shootings, most people haven’t shown an abundance of willingness to fund any solutions, and this leads to zero action. If you look into the history of mental health care in this country, you’ll see that making promises and signing laws without the funding to back them is the norm.

Honestly, I think that a lot of people just assume mental health programs are well funded, and I don’t blame you. It makes sense, but it’s not true. I hope that if we can get a realistic view for where we stand on addressing mental health then we can actually unite to take action by paying a little more.

What about gun control?

This may surprise you, but there is generally more support for stricter gun laws than there is for spending on mental health. According to Politico, support for stricter laws has hit 68% and only 25% oppose. Also, if you check out that article you’ll see that support has largely been over 50%. Even many gun owners (which I am one of) support measures to restrict some access and reduce harm capability.

If we are going to reach any unity on this issue we need to get past some of the fear mongering that many politicians are doing. While you may encounter some people on the internet that would like to live in a country without guns, revoking ownership flat out and for all guns is not the real conversation that’s taking place. If you look at that Politico article it has a table of the reforms that are actually being talked about. They basically come down to better screening, more background checks, no guns for violent offenders, and restrictions on some guns and gun parts to reduce the harm capability. This is literally the very least we could do to curb access to guns for those with malicious intent.

We need to all acknowledge that access to guns is the issue. Most of the shooters used guns that they owned or their family owned. What’s frightening about that is that these events has been unpredictable. No one has been able to identify a mass shooter before they kill, to my knowledge. This means that the incredible prevalence of guns in our society is giving convenience to those who tempted to hurt people.

But won’t they find another way? Not necessarily. We have pretty strict laws that restrict or track access to substance that can be used to make significant explosives. Even fire crackers are illegal in many states, like mine. By making it difficult to gather powerful explosive materials you set a barrier between impulsive, opportunists and the temporarily disturbed and harm.

What we have to remember is that these people who committing mass shootings are not master criminals, they are not connected to the underworld, they are not going to elaborate ends to carry out their destruction. They basically pick up a weapon and drive to a location and start shooting. We need to come together behind the idea that it shouldn’t be that easy.

As someone who has worked in addiction and mental health, I can tell you that a suicide is far less likely to occur if the person does not have a convenient means to follow through. Many people who are suicidal will come to a tipping point, but if there is no clean and usually painless way to carry out there thoughts fear will keep them from going to extreme methods and the urges will pass.

I think that mass shootings and acts of violence by those that are mentally unstable work very similarly. So let’s get together behind the idea that we need stop making it so easy. These measures won’t stop hunters and hobby shooters, and it could make us all safer.

I think the people are more united on these ideas than our politicians would have us believe.