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fictionalreads · 6 months ago

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This Was Never Meant to Be What It Feels Like (Part 3)

A/N: Heeeeeeey...How y'all doing?....I know it's been a couple weeks when I said days but a part of this just did not want to be written! Also, this one is a bit of a beast, just over 5,200 words. This is the final part of this lil mini series, I hope y'all enjoy and the conclusion is satisfying for you guys.

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Original Female Character

Fandom: Bad Boys Movies

Prompt: Mike gets a couple visits, Shay has some news and Armando makes a decision.

Warnings⚠️: Cussing, Mentions of bad parental relationships, uh.... I think that's it for this one.

Mike Lowrey was no stranger to being called into back rooms for an off the books meeting. What was unusual was the CBI agent waiting for him when last time he checked none of the cases he had been part of lately had anything to warrant federal attention. Well, besides the one with his son but he had been cleared almost a full year ago now and Julie had corroborated his story. Nah, this was something new.

“Officer Lowrey, I’m Agent Garrett with the California Bureau of Investigations. Please have a seat.” She was standing at her full height on the other side of the table while gesturing to one of two chairs in the room, the only one near him. He saw straight through her bullshit tactics to make him feel like she was in charge and had the upper hand.

“It’s Detective Lowrey and think I’ll stand. Now why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what the hell you want.” Her jaw tensed and he just barely managed to hold back a smirk. She wouldn’t get what she wanted by using the same perp tricks he had been using when she was still in diapers. You can’t bullshit the bullshitter.

Coming clean, she began, “I’ve been put in charge of running a task force out in LA, similar to your AMMO squad here. Our goal is to find and stop cartel drug from entering the country, maybe stop a few murders while we’re at it.”

So this was about Armando, just more recently than he thought. Damn son of his was definitely payback for the hell he raised when he was younger. If he was back on his shit, he might not be able to help him this time.

“Sounds like a good idea. I wish you luck,” he stated, feigning ignorance as to what this was really about.

“Your son Armando Aretas has many connections on the west coast that could be useful. Figured I could use him to knock down some of my open cases.”

She clearly had found out their connection, but he still wasn’t sure what she wanted from him. “I don’t know if you’ve been watching the news lately, but my son isn’t here in Miami. He’s been on the run for the better part of a year. I don’t know where he is.”

“You’re his father.” Agent Garrett takes the chair on her side of the table. “If anybody could find him, it’d be you. You’d know where to look right?” The flattery, the subtle leading questions to confirm what she believed and the sitting gave her away.

She was desperate.

If he had to guess, those open case files were all big cases that had her boss breathing down her neck. She’d probably been given an ultimatum with her job on the line and now she was desperate to do anything that would get her back on top, including working with a wanted man.

Mike sat. “What are the terms?”

“Terms?”

“What does Armando get in exchange for helping you?”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Terms are you don’t go to prison for aiding and abetting a murderer and he doesn’t get a bullet in his head immediately. Don’t know if you know this but cops aren’t a big hit in prison and I’m betting that’s especially true for you.”

“Don’t fucking insult me, please. Aiding and abetting implies I know where he is and I’m actively helping him. I’ve already told you I don’t know where he is. But like you said I’m your best shot at finding him. I’m also your best chance at not getting your men killed and losing him again. I’m not doing this shit without some assurances on his end. So I’ll ask again. What does he get for helping you?”

She shook her head. “You know when I came up with this whole thing, I did my my research on you. Figured I should know who I was getting into bed with. Everything I read told me you were one hell of a cop, always got your guy and made Miami just that much safer. Are you, this great cop, really going to bat for a murderer like him?”

That was where her approach was faulty. She was trying to appeal to his cop side, but he was a father first. “No, I, a father, am protecting my son.”

“I can offer him protective custody, knock some time off his sentence depending on how fruitful his tips are.” She offered lightly.

Too lightly. This was her throwaway offer, the one she knew was shit but was hoping he’d take anyway. So he called her bluff.

“He won’t come in for that. He had that deal with me already. All the shit that went down last year? The bodies dropped had to be put on someone and he got ‘em since he was a convicted felon, one that was alive and a part of the mess. Not to mention he ran off and became a fugitive. He’s looking at almost double what his sentence was when I arrested him. You’ll have to do better.”

Agent Garrett seemed to be debating with herself. She let out a heavy breath,”I’ve been authorized to grant him a special deal.”

Now they were getting somewhere.

“What kind of deal?”

“The kind that puts my ass on the line.”

Something about this whole interaction was bugging him. “Tell me something. Why are you willing to put your badge on the line for someone you clearly can’t stand?”

“I don’t trust Aretas. But this isn’t about me. Its about making my city safer. His intel could be the key to shutting down major operations. He has connections everywhere, and that’s what I care about. I’m not putting myself on the line for him, I’m doing it for my city.”

“You sure you’re not doing it for your bosses? They up yo ass about getting shit done?”

“I proposed using Aretas. They were against it. Said we were cleaning up just fine but I’m tired of cleaning up after the fact and only getting low level dealers. I want to cut this thing off at the head.”

“At the end of the day that’s my son. I need to know that somebody has his back. Why should I trust that that’s you?”

“Like I said this is my proposal. My bosses made it clear that if he fails I fail. He gives me the wrong intel, he leads us astray, he turns on us, I’m fired. I’m just as invested in his success because I have something to lose too.”

“What’s the offer?”

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

“Hi, I’m looking for Mike Lowrey?” Shay swallowed down the feeling of nausea, hoping it was just the nerves making her feel this way.

“He’s not in at the moment, but I’m his wife Christine. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Shay hesitates. Could she do anything? Hell she wasn’t sure what this Mike Lowrey could do for her either. She flew all the way to Miami, and for what? Some detective Armando had left the name of in case she needed help? This was a bad idea. She knew he was a cop, and after looking him up a supposedly good one, but how could she trust him when he socialized with a murderer? Ignoring her own dalliances with the man, she could only think about the fact that Detective Mike Lowrey had sworn to arrest people like Armando, not be someone they trusted.

She felt overwhelmed for the millionth time in the past month and a half and was debating just leaving when Christine offered, “why don’t you come in? Mike should be home soon and you can wait inside for him instead of in the heat.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the heat, Christine's sweet voice coupled with the endearing British accent or the way her face screamed warmth, but she found herself saying, “yeah. Yeah okay.”

Christine opened the door wider for her to enter and Shay marveled at the inside of the house as much as she had the outside. This guy was definitely a dirty cop. There was no way he was able to afford this on a detective’s salary. What the hell was she getting herself into?

“Please have a seat,” she gestured towards the couch. It looked like it was more for the aesthetic than actual use but she was pleasantly surprised to find it very comfortable. “Would you like something to drink? I have water and that disgusting stuff my husband calls sweet tea,” Christine joked.

“Water is fine,” she replied with a smile. Shay watched as Christine stepped past a wall into what she assumes was the kitchen. The creeping sensation of nausea hit her once more. Digging in her purse and finding a ginger chew, she didn’t see Christine come back in the room with a bottle of water. Almost instantaneously she felt relief, so maybe it was all psychosomatic. Just her nerves going haywire.

“How far along are you?” Shay startled at the question.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.

“It’s okay. What makes you think I’m pregnant?”

“I saw the chew and just assumed.”

She didn’t believe that for a second. “Some assumption based off just a ginger chew. What if I just like them?”

“Honestly the chew was just the cherry on top for my assumption. You hold yourself the same way my sister held herself when she was pregnant for the first time. A bit unsure, scared definitely, but ready for war all the same.”

Well, damn. She didn’t know she gave off that much with just how she stood.

Ignoring how unexpectedly open she felt, she answered Christine’s question from before.“Thirteen weeks.” Suddenly Shay realized how this could look, a random pregnant woman showing up looking for her husband and not telling her what she wants, so she quickly explained. “It’s not your husband’s!”

Christine laughed brightly, “Oh darling the thought never crossed my mind. Mike may have once been that guy, but he’s not anymore. He’s a good man.” Shay kept her doubts to herself.

“Christine? Who’s car is that out front?” The man she assumed to be Mike Lowrey was juggling a duffle bag and struggling to get his keys out of the door, not once looking in their direction.

Smirking like it was a game, Christine replied, “It’s a rental.”

“Why do we need a rental?” He finally looked up, noticing Shay in the room. She could see his guard go right back up.

“Mike, this is Shay. She was hoping to speak with you,” his wife explained to him.

“Do I know you?” He was blunt but not unkind with his words, something she hoped would continue in their conversation.

“Mike!” Christine admonished before turning to Shay with, “Please, excuse Mike. He can bring his interrogation tactics into other parts of his life sometimes.”

“It’s okay. If a random woman showed up saying she needed to speak to me, I’d probably question it too.” She was hoping her understanding would get her some traction and not immediately thrown out when he found out why she was here.

Mike still held caution in his face. “So…?” He left the obvious question unspoken, wondering who she was and why she was here in his home.

Shay paused. She wasn’t sure how to bring it up and didn’t want to say anything in front of his wife in case she truly had no clue her husband was a dirty cop. She may have been desperate enough to find this guy, but she wasn’t going to be the one to ruin this poor woman’s marriage.

Luckily Christine picked up on her reluctance to speak in front of an audience and excused herself. “I’m going to head upstairs for a moment, give you two some time to talk.”

While Shay relaxed, Mike tensed. Once Christine was gone, he questioned her. “Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

“I was told if I ever needed anything, I should find you.”

Mike carefully focused his attention on sitting his duffle near the armchair, going to take a seat himself. He might not be looking directly at her anymore, but she knew all of his attention was on her as he spoke. “Who the fuck told you that? Better yet, why my house? Why not meet me in the station?”

Ignoring the second question, she replied, “Armando Aretas.”

Mike’s head snapped back to her. She was almost concerned for his neck with how fast he moved.

Continuing at his silence she said, “I figured you wouldn’t want to discuss him at work.”

“What about him?”

“He was in LA a few months ago.”

He first whispered to himself, “Dumbass don’t listen.” Then he spoke louder, clearly to her this time, “What does this have to do with you and why you’re here?”

She wasn’t sure where to start. How does one tell a dirty cop working for one’s murderer baby daddy that you need him to tell said baby daddy you were pregnant? “We were…together. I’m pregnant now.” She hoped he would catch on without her spelling it out but he didn’t.

Instead, Mike blinked. “What?” A million unidentifiable emotions ran over his face before he carefully shut it down, facing her with no emotion at all now.

“I am with child, in the family way, carrying a bun in the oven, whatever you want to call it.” There was still no response from him so she continued her rant, “look I’m not asking for him to come back or pay for anything. I’m fully prepared to take care of this kid myself, but not even trying to tell him was weighing on my conscience. So I figured if I found you like he said, you could pass on the message for me. I just need to be able to know I did everything I could to let him know.”

She had prepared for a lot of responses to her plea. Anger on Armando’s behalf, a dismissal, hell even laughter at her audacity, but his next words were ones she somehow missed in her spiral. “I’m not in contact with him.”

Shay tried not to be hurt at his response, not for herself, but for her baby. Okay, well a little bit for herself. She was in love with the man-yes, still- and knowing he truly didn’t leave a way to contact him again crushed the little bit of hope his note had left behind. Why would he send her to Mike if it wasn’t a way to get in touch with him? “So why would he tell me to find you?”

A pause.

“Armando’s my son.”

The statement was so far from what she was expecting to hear that she paused. “Wait so you don’t…you don’t work for him? With him? Whatever.”

Mike laughed loudly, “nah, I don’t work in that world. I stand by the badge.”

“So how did he…?” She trailed off, confused.

“Look our situation is…complicated, but if he sent you in my direction I’m gonna help you in any way I can. I mean, I’d love to get to know you and be in my grandchild’s life if you’ll let me.” His words were reminiscent of the night she had asked Armando about his family. He too had called his relationship with his father complicated.

Despite the unknown of it all, his offer was partly the reason she had found Mike. A family for her child, something she never really had. “Yeah. Yeah I’d like that.” It may not be exactly what she was looking for, but she would take what she could get. At least her baby would have some connection to their father’s side of the family. But she still had a question, one that had no answer now that her assumptions were corrected.

“So if you aren’t dirty, how do you afford living like this?”

Mike let out a laugh louder than the one from before. “I’m a trust fund kid. Never really had to work but all I’ve ever wanted was to be a cop.”

“Sounds like one hell of a trust fund,” she scoffed.

Turning serious he impressed, “One that continues to grow from a few investments made along the way. This kid will have that same freedom. They’ll be able to do whatever they want in life and never have to worry about money.”

That statement alone almost made her cry. She didn’t have much growing up, wondering if she and her mother would even be able to eat everyday. When she had found out she was pregnant, despite making more money than her mother did she found herself worrying her child would have those same experiences.

She may not have Armando, a partner she’d hoped to have, but he had made sure she had everything she needed.

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Habitual but flexible.

That was Armando’s motto. Habitual in the precautions he took but flexible enough everywhere else to not create patterns. Patterns were how you got caught, and Armando refused to be put in another cage. He always double checked his locks when he left his place, checked his surroundings before leaving and arriving at his place so as not to run into his neighbors. The less people who could identify him the better.

Which is why seeing his door wide open as he turned onto his street was so unsettling.

Normally he would just leave town, dump this alias and start over with another elsewhere, but there were a few things he didn’t want to part with. Upon his first return to Mexico, he had managed to find his mother’s emergency stash and in it was a photo of the two of them before he was forced out of the prison when he turned six. Despite his conflicted feelings on his mother’s choices and the lies she told him, he still loved her and this was all he had left of her.

If she were around she’d chastise his sentimentality.

He also had a letter his father had written him when he left Miami that he kept because even with the complexity of their relationship, he still wished he’d had the opportunity to get to know him. He wished he could have done things differently. That letter may be his only chance to know his father, even a little bit.

The last thing was a photo of Shay. He had taken it one morning before he left on a polaroid camera she had lying around. The sun had been rising and he remembered wishing what they had could be real, that he could stay in bed and wake up with her instead of having to run out and lie all the time. It was the only thing he had left of the only relationship he’d ever have again.

So he weighed his options. Either he went in and fought whoever was there, grabbed his things and hopefully made it out in time to not get caught, or he left now and hoped whoever it was left without calling for backup so he could get his things before leaving town. He either risked his freedom or he risked losing the only items that reminded him of his humanity forever.

He pulled his gun and carefully made his way into the apartment he’d called home for a couple weeks.

“Don’t shoot, it’s just me.”

Armando relaxed, but kept his gun in his hand. “What are you doing here Detective?” His tone was snippy, as though his father speaking to him was a bother. He knew that wasn’t true, but it was like he couldn’t help the animosity that came out when he spoke to his father. No matter how much he’d love to try with the man, he’d just get so angry about it all that it came out confrontational.

“What? A man can’t see his son?” Mike didn’t rise to the obvious bait of his tone, instead trying to lighten the mood with a tease.

Armando simply raised an eyebrow at the deflection. “Not when that man is a decorated detective and his son is a fugitive,” he coldly stated. He needed to know what Mike wanted so he could get on with his life. Who knows how many eyes are on the man, he was risking Armando’s freedom, not that he seemed to care. Irritated at the lack of concern for him, he accused, “you risked the badge once just to let me go, you won’t risk it again, not even for me. It means too much to you.” I don’t mean enough to you went unsaid but not unheard.

“Armando I’d risk everything for you.” The fight left Mike, and he sighed, finding a seat on the edge of the bed. “You’re my son and I know I’m not the best at showing it, but that shit means something to me. Our relationship means something to me. I didn’t have the best relationship with my father so I told myself I wouldn’t have kids cause I didn’t want to repeat the cycle. But then I found out about you. And despite the fact that circumstances made it so it isn’t easy, I still don’t want the cycle to be repeated. I love you man. I’ll do whatever you need me to, to prove that to you. Including walking away if you say no to my proposal.”

There it was. The real reason he was here now, he needed something like always. Armando put his gun away in exasperation. He was so tired of just being used that he couldn’t help but get a jab in. “Whatever man. This don’t mean shit to you. It’s all transactional for you, I’m good enough to help you get what you want and that’s why you come around. So what is it this time?”

“Is that what you think? That I don’t care about you?” What the hell else was he supposed to think?

“If you did, you would have come to see me in prison without needing my help on a case.” He argued before quietly following up with, “I would have been enough of a reason to visit.” He hated when this stupid hurt boy routine flared up. He looked weak, like una puta.

Mike stood and stepped close to Armando. Refusing to back down, Armando met his stare head on, ignoring the way his throat was getting tight and tears were pooling in his eyes. “Armando I never needed you on those cases. I knew that if I could get intel from you and put you down on paper, it would help you out. I was trying to help.” He blinked and a single tear made its way down his face. It was too much now and he had to look away.

Mike placed a hand on his shoulder, continuing, “I love you. Nothing is more real than that. If I had known you would take my help as me using you, I never would’ve asked for your help.”

Facing his father once more, Armando spoke lowly, “Si lo hubieras sabido, ¿te habría importado?” He didn’t explain what he meant, knowing his father understood what he was asking.

“Nada me hubiera importado más.” Mike asserted.

He nodded, finally having an answer to the question that had been burning inside him. He focused on the reason Mike was in front of him, not the emotions his answer stirred in him. “What’s the proposal?” He asked much more calmly this time around.

“LAPD is starting up a team like AMMO. They were hoping to recruit you to be a part of it, use your knowledge to help stop cartel drugs from entering the states.”

“And go back in a cage? No I’m good.” He shook his head, a clear no coming from him.

“You wouldn’t be arrested again, you’d be put up in an apartment. Free to walk the city after an initial probationary period of just work and home. After that, there would be twenty-four hour surveillance, random drug tests and check-ins. Eventually you would become a private citizen.”

It sounded like a trap. “If I don’t give them what they want I get arrested right?”

“Yeah, but I have all the faith you’ll be great at it. Plus I made sure it was as ironclad for you as possible.”

“Why would I agree to this? Sounds like a lot could go wrong and land me back in prison. If that happens I’m never getting out again.”

“You aren’t the killer your mother made you into. You only did any of it because she fueled you with rage and ideas of revenge before she pointed you at a target. If you were really a killer, you would’ve killed me anyway. You live by a code, and only do what’s necessary. No more, no less.”

Sometimes when he was feeling really low he’d think about what his life would have been like if he’d had a normal life. Would he have chosen violence anyway? He’d like to think he’d hav e chosen to protect. Maybe be a firefighter or an EMT cause he was still an adrenaline junkie, but maybe he wouldn’t have to hurt anybody. If his father was saying the same thing he thought, then maybe he could believe it to be true. Before he could think on it, his father spoke once more, shifting his whole world.

“Besides, Shay’s pregnant. We not giving another generation of Lowrey these bullshit daddy issues.”

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Six Months Later

“Marcus we ain’t got time for that shit.”

“I just asked the man a question!”

“No, you used the question as a cover to try and buy some damn skittles.”

“Oh so now you the skittle police? I thought we worked narcotics?”

“Yo ass ain’t supposed to have that shit and you know it. Don’t try to make it out like I’m the one that’s going overboard.”

“Aye Mike what would they call the skittle department? The rainbow division? Don’t worry everybody! Mike Lowry is working the rainbow!”

“That’s homophobic.”

“It’s the slogan! What else would it be called Mike?”

“Why the fuck are you here?”

“Man fuck you-“

“Your presence really wasn’t needed-“

“I’m just trying to be a good friend-“

“This is a moment for my family-“

“And now I’m not family to you?!”

“You called my family fucked up remember?”

“Yo son was tryna kill us and his mama was gonna let us burn in a fire!”

“Are you pendejos done?”

“Mike! That mean assholes right?”

“Yeah he just called us assholes. But Imma let it slide cause he got to be high on that new father shit to call me an asshole.”

“Nah I just think he don’t respect you. That’s what you get for not raising him. My boys would never.”

“Marcus!”

Shay knew this could devolve again if she didn’t get their attention. “Guys! Do you want to meet her?”

The men focused their attention on the baby Shay was holding against her chest. Marcus visibly melted at the sight, Mike simply softening his shoulders with a small smile.

Armando joined Shay, leaning on the bed using a finger to trace down their daughter’s arm. When he spoke, he kept his eyes on his daughter. “This is Amada Rose Lowrey.”

“Lowrey?”Mike coughed.

Armando shrugged. “I wasn’t actually an Aretas, I was supposed to be a Lowrey. Figured she and I could claim our real family name.”

Mike nodded. “That’s cool man. Real cool,” he choked out.

“Awe Mike,” Marcus cried.

“Mm-mm Marcus. Stop it right now.”

“But Mike he’s taking your last name!”

Ignoring his bumbling partner, Mike walks over to Shay, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “How you doing Mama?”

“Extremely sore, but happy.”

“Well you did good, she’s beautiful.”

“You wanna hold her?”

Knowing his father’s aversion to holding babies, he goads hims, “Yeah Papa, wanna hold her?”

Surprising them all, he said, “You know what? I will.”

Shay handed her daughter over to Mike, making sure he supported her head correctly.

Armando joined Shay on the bed and wrapped her in his arms now that she wasn’t holding the baby. He simply watched his father holding and whispering to his baby girl with fond eyes, knowing his daughter would know nothing but love and presence from the man. They would have a real relationship right from the start. He and Mike themselves had been working on things, talking through the lies and anger and getting to a better place.

“How’s work? They give you any time off?” Marcus asked him.

In the end there hadn’t been a choice. He was going to be present in his child’s life, no matter what and sneaking into LA would just get riskier every time he did it. If he didn’t get caught just trying to get to his family, he would’ve gotten caught because if how much he would’ve been there to see them. And he’d be damned if he was raising his child from behind bars so he took Agent Garrett up on her offer.

He turned to face his uncle, replying, “Good, we wrapped a case a day before Shay went into labor. I’ll have about a couple weeks at home with the girls before I’m expected back.”

It had somewhat surprised him how seriously Marcus had taken to being his uncle. The man was supportive of his new role with the LAPD and called almost as often as his father did, checking in and making sure he was being safe. Seeing him at the hospital now wasn’t a shock at all.

“I’m just glad they gave him any time at all,” Shay interrupted. As his employment with the LAPD wasn’t under normal circumstances, he wasn’t sure if they’d grant him time at home with his girls. Agent Garrett had stuck her neck out for him once again and gotten him twelve days exactly.

Armando leaned down and kissed her, forever grateful for the woman who stood by his side despite his past. She had lost a couple friends when they found out who he was, the ones that stayed had definitely judged her and never truly came around to him as a person. She never wavered though, taking it all with grace and holding his hand as they planed for their future. He couldn’t wait to ask her to marry him.

Amada let out a cry, disrupting his internal debate on the pros and cons of asking her right that moment. He knew it probably meant she was hungry again, so he shifted his hold on Shay so she could get the b baby again and feed her.

“I think that’s a cry for mommy,” Mike chimed as he passed the baby back.

“Yeah Mike you ain’t got the right equipment,” Marcus tossed out.

Mike turned to Marcus incredulously. “Now why would you say some dumb shit like that?”

“You don’t!”

Armando turned his attention from the bickering men, whispering to his little family, “Here they go.”

Honestly, though? He wouldn’t trade his family for nothing.

A/N: Don't forget to leave a comment or reblog/like! What did we think? I have a few other ideas in mind for Armando but I'm not sure how they'll play out, so I'm CAUTIOUSLY open to prompt from you guys for drabbles. Please keep in mind that I can't do smut.😅

Translations:

Una Puta - A bitch

Si lo hubieras sabido, ¿te habría importado? - If you had known, would you have cared?

Nada me hubiera importado más. -Nothing would have mattered to me more.

Pendejos - Assholes

Taglist:

@yeahnohoneybye @bootlegroach @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful

#armando aretas #Armando x ofc #Armando aretas x ofc #mike lowrey #marcus burnett #original female character #christine lowrey #fan fiction #minors dni #Jacob scipio #bad boys ride or die #bad boys for life

149 notes · View notes

niennawept · 2 months ago

Text

I want to combine my two favorite unhinged fan theory factories into one:

Gil-galad is Adar's son

Okay, now that I have your attention, let's go on a journey that starts with two things:

Thing the first: I really love people's unhinged theories that Adar is a canon character. I don't think he is; I think he's just some guy that Rings of Power made up but it amuses me to no end when people come up with convoluted theories to make him a guy from canon.

Thing the second: The Silmarillion fandom has a long-standing in-joke about who Gil-galad's father really is. Christopher Tolkien told us that it was Fingon in the Silmarillion and later regretted it, because there was so much confusion in his father's notes on the subject and so many different candidates. Cue all kinds of cracky theories of who Gil galad's gil-gal-dad is. I would like to submit mine.

How does this theory work?

Well it's quite simple actually. Adar and some elven thrall lady hit it off in Angband and have a kid together kinda by accident through weird Angband-based magic. That is a problem because now she's got this like elf-looking baby that has black blood and also Angband is no place for an elf-looking baby. This could get them both into extremely capital 'b' - Bad - trouble.

So, Adar takes that baby and he sneaks into an elven camp and he does that old movie trope where he leaves the baby on the doorstep and then makes a noise so that that people inside the house will hear it. Only this time, it's a war tent and the person inside is Fingon.

Fingon picks up this adorable baby and the baby kind of looks like him and he's like well - I could adopt this baby right? So he goes back to a fort with this baby and Fingolfin takes one look at his son and takes one look at that baby and says to himself "my very gay son did probably did not produce this baby. However, it is probably the only grandchild I will get from him and he is my heir." So welcome home, son and grandson.

Is there any evidence?

Exhibit A: The GIF set that started it all. Look at the similarities! Connect the dots! And thank you, @fukutomichi, for starting off this crazy unhinged theory.

Exhibit B: During Season 2, Episode 1 "Elven Kings Under the Sky", there is a moment where the camera lingers on Adar while Gil-galad is singing his song. Now they actually probably did that because they wanted to remind the audience that Adar was formerly an elf, but this is an unhinged theory, so we're going to ignore the obvious reason they did that and assume that they're trying to connect them for some reason. Yes, that's right. They're trying to tell us that Gil-galad is Adar's son.

Exhibit C: Their their armor matches. The gorget that Gil-galad is wearing in Season 1, Episode 5 "Partings" is a perfect match to the river pattern that Adar is wearing on his armor. Coincidence? Normally, I'd say yes, but in this unhinged theory, I think not.

Exhibit D: In one version of the story, Gil-galad is his mother-name. Is that because his father-name is not elven? Is it because it's potentially uruk in origin?! And don't come at me with that Ereinion nonsense."Scion of kings?"* Sounds like someone's trying to underline a point there, eh? Almost like they're worried people won't think he's kingly enough.

Exhibit E: Gil-galad, despite ample time and opportunity, never marries or produces an heir. Why? Because he knows. He knows that if he does, some one will be close enough to learn his deep, dark secret: he has black blood and his child might too.

Are there holes in this theory? Absolutely; all the evidence is circumstantial at best. Do I care? Nope. This is for the pure, unhinged fun of it. Anyhow, if you need me I'll be headcanoning this for the rest of the run of Rings of Power until they show me Gil-galad's blood, mmmkay?

Thank you to @hellofeanor, @fishing4stars, @baddybaddyadardaddy for spitballing with me.

#rings of power #adar rings of power #gil galad #the silmarillion #unhinged fan theory #when you joke too close to the sun #crack theory

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halfagone · 6 months ago

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✨ Lex Luthor's Ascent Turns Two Today! ✨

Although other fandom events have filled my calendar, I wanted to take a moment to celebrate this incredible occasion! Our little baby fic turns two today! They grow up so fast 🥺 To think there was a time when I thought it would just be a small little one-shot collection~

That screenshot is from Chapter 6. I don't know what I was thinking with that line, it never turns out well for authors lol

But what about the artists? This fic has received some brilliant works of art that I will never stop squealing about. Artists like @papiliomame and @wilmvandrr and @avensartt who have brought scenes and outfits to life with their wonderful pieces. Chapter 44 alone has received some of my favorite pieces to date. It was amazing to see how everyone took the same outfit and created their own interpretation of it! I cannot thank you all enough for the work you did ✨

And we can't forget about @captain-krow-drozdov who time and again has stepped up to the task with his hilarious memes that always hit just right.

I cannot tell you enough how much all your comments made my day. There are still comments I come back to when I have a bad day, when I need a little pick-me-up and a reminder of why I wrote this in the first place. I remember being terrified out of my mind to publish chapters 47 to 50 but you all blew me away. Thank you for all the support throughout these past two years. 💛

How about you? What has been your favorite part of this behemoth of a fic?

I know I am a touched biased for chapter 27 🤭 but that's hardly the only thing I like about the fic.

Updates have been slow. I won't pretend they haven't. I have seen some comments lately that have discouraged me, but I promise to the loyal readers that I will prevail! I have come too far to give up now, and even if the next chapter still takes a little more time, it will come. After all, we still have 57 more chapters to scream about together.

So thank you, really, for coming this far with me. May I see you in many more chapters and many more stories to come.

This is halfagone, signing off.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #lex luthor's ascent from supervillainy to fatherhood #halfagone's fics

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evilbihan · 6 months ago

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Congratulations, OP, on making the most factually incorrect post I've ever seen on this hellsite.

Let's take this trainwreck of an "analysis" apart step by step, shall we?

Oh, good lord, now I'm seeing Bi-Han stans say his father was abusive. There is literally nothing in MK1 implying that.

In the previous timeline, Bi-Han's and Kuai Liang's father literally kidnapped them and killed their mother and sister, then raised them to become assassins against their will, but now we're supposed to believe that man's a saint?

I've said this in a different post before and I'll repeat it here too: The core essence of every character in MK1 is basically still the same as it was in the old timeline. Geras is still loyal to his creator (previously Kronika, now Liu Kang), Scorpion might be a different person now but he's still vengeful, Sindel is good now, but she's still a merciless ruler, Kung Lao is still ambitious, etc. Not a single one of these characters is a completely new and different person. Following that logic, the same thing would apply to the old grandmaster.

At first glance, it may seem like nothing implies that Bi-Han's and Kuai Liang's father was abusive, but that's only if you ignore anything outside of the main story.

I made an entire post about it here, but I'll give you the short version:

Additionally, there was a node in the previous season of invasions mode that involved another fight with Bi-Han, titled "second best". Second best at what? We know that in the old timeline, Bi-Han was the Lin Kuei's best assassin. Therefore, this could have only been referring to the new era's Bi-Han, again confirming that their father had a favorite son, Kuai Liang, not Bi-Han.

Believe it or not, this is a form of emotional abuse.

Y'all (thirsty fandom bitches) are so obsessed with your villain faves being victims of parental abuse, even when canon doesn't imply that or literally says otherwise. I've seen it in the Scream fandom, now it's in the MK fandom, too.

Still not convinced? How about we change perspectives from my favorite character to my least favorite one then? Everyone who's been following this blog knows I can't stand Kuai Liang, but I even believe him to be a victim of abuse at his own father's hand, albeit in a different way than Bi-Han.

Nitara: Had you ever known hunger, you wouldn't judge us. Scorpion: I have, and I will.

So, what does this intro tell us?

Kuai Liang has known hunger, so there must have been a period in his life where he has been starving, but why? Poverty seems highly unlikely. The Lin Kuei seem well organized and in his tower ending, Bi-Han talks about how many of their resources were spent on the cyber initiative, so I doubt the Lin Kuei were ever poor or he wouldn't have been able to afford all that technology at all. The brothers also come across as quite arrogant. Growing up poor would have probably made them more humble.

So, why was Kuai Liang starving? Would loving parents let their children starve? Was it perhaps part of their training or a way to punish them for disobedience? And if so, why does Kuai Liang still think and speak so highly of his father? Stockholm syndrome maybe.

And let's say it wasn't the grandmaster's fault that they were starving, then wouldn't it make Bi-Han's ambition to give the clan more wealth and power noble instead of selfish? It would mean no more starving for any of the Lin Kuei in the future.

Regardless of your takeaway from this, the end result remains the same: Bi-Han is not evil.

Bi-Han has always been an asshole. He's power-hungry and he is a bad person. Him murdering his father (whom his brothers haven't implied anything bad about) is no surprise, and trying to make up completely non-canon things to justify it because you can't handle liking a fictional villain is moronic.

Bi-Han has always been an asshole? Always as in previous timelines? Because by that logic, his father has always been an asshole too. See how you're contradicting yourself here? Secondly, Bi-Han is not a bad person. That's straight up wrong.

Ashrah said he's redeemable.

Kuai Liang said he and Bi-Han were once close.

Bi-Han shows genuine regret over Sindel's death.

Tomas, one of the nicest characters in the game, used to look up to Bi-Han.

Kitana's announcer voice when selecting Bi-Han: "You were a decent person once."

He's flawed, not evil.

The only person making up completely non-canon things is you.

Oh, and for the record, I'm a huge fan of Homelander and there's no saving grace to that man. I don't care though, I love villains.

Here's the punchline though, Bi-Han isn't a villain, he's an anti-hero/anti-villain type of character. Do some research.

It's Bi-Han. Bi-Han would sell his little brother to Shang Tsung for a single corn chip! (And I don't mean Tomas; he'd give away Tomas for free.)

Bi-Han literally refused to deliver Kuai Liang to Kronika in MK11 as Noob when Geras told him to.

Geras: Bring your brother to Kronika. Noob Saibot: The dead are my clan. Geras: Do you serve or do you not?

Bi-Han doesn't wish harm upon either of his brothers in MK1 either, he tells them multiple times to surrender and join him. Just watch their intros, it's all there. He even admitted that he wanted Kuai Liang to rule by his side. In his intros with Shang Tsung, he also mentions that he regrets ever trusting him.

The whole original post is a joke. Implying that people who are upset over mischaracterization and bad writing must be thirsting over a character is just ridiculous.

How wrong do you want to be?

OP: yes.

#bi han #bi-han #bi han sub zero #mk bi han #mk sub zero #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 2023 #mk1 #mk scorpion #tomas vrbada #kuai liang #kuai liang scorpion #noob saibot #mk11 #fandom nonsense #i made my own post as to not give the original one more notes

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maxdibert · 23 days ago

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The Marauders fandom is one that someone could easily enter only to quickly lose interest, and that's exactly how I feel right now. I “joined” (or rather got dragged into) it around late September or early October of THIS YEAR, drawn in by the excitement of everyone creating their own stories for the characters. As someone who also loves to write, I found it fascinating and immediately felt a connection to the community.

The biggest mistake of my life has been getting involved in this fandom. The level of toxicity is almost shocking. It baffles me that many of the members are four years older than I am, able to pay taxes and even vote. I had hoped that their age would mean they could engage in meaningful discussions, conduct thorough research, analyze characters effectively, and write about them with depth. But I’ve been let down repeatedly.

First, it was Jegulus, a ship I couldn't understand because, I admit, I am someone who takes canon a little seriously even when I'm making fanon things, and these two do NOT seem like they'd work well together. Then, it was like characters that are known to be BAD PEOPLE were suddenly cool kids that were either gay, twinks or just given this sob story so people could like them (Regulus, Sirius, Barty Crouch Jr, Remus, James, hell, even Evan and Mulciber...). Next, the girls were thrown to the side and given WLW ships just so they could stay out of the way of MLM ships.

What finally pushed me over the edge was the overwhelming disdain for Severus Snape. The constant name-calling, the people who genuinely believed that being hung upside down for humiliation wasn't a form of sexual assault, and the accusations of him stalking or being obsessed with Lily—all while completely overlooking the fact that he represents one of the truest reflections of a guy clearly needing HELP and STABILITY. The idea that "he deserved to be bullied" really stung, and it feels like I’m constantly being pushed away for simply admitting that his character means everything to me. After all, he offers me something to delve into, to grasp and wrestle with in my thoughts. He's also realistic, because wouldn't you be miserable too if you had to grow up in a domestic abusive situation, go to school only to get bullied??

How can I come back to a fandom after so long, happy to finally become social again after being socially anxious, only for the fandom to be crap? How can I look up to anyone my age and think they know what they're doing when THIS is how they act? I understand it's fiction; I know that I shouldn't be pissed because it is a fanon-based community, BUT fiction and reality can cross over and over and over again. There's a point that some people need to realize that whatever they say or do with a fictional character will mirror how they'll react to people like that in the real world, even if they don't notice they're doing it.

(P.S. - I don't have good grammar, so this might be hard to read...sorry!)

Honestly, I’m sorry you had such a terrible experience. I guess for those who also enjoy Severus as a character or are his fans, being in that fandom must be a nightmare. I mean, I’ve literally seen them fangirl over absolutely EVERY character except him—I have no idea what their deal is. Some people say it’s because adult Severus is unpleasant, but, hello? Barty Crouch Jr.? Seriously? That man not only tortured a couple into insanity but also locked a man in a trunk for months and triggered the son of the couple he drove insane. To me, it all boils down to beauty privilege and classism. What I don’t understand is looking down on people who are in that fandom but also happen to be Snape fans. I mean, there are plenty of people within Snapedom who, for example, like the Marauders or are fans of Sirius or Lily, and I’ve never seen anyone give them crap for it. I wouldn’t give anyone crap for that.

In fact, my issue with the Marauders' fandom isn’t that they like the Marauders but how they try to justify the unjustifiable, whitewash their actions, or completely destroy their canon personalities.

Anyway, I feel really bad because, in the end, people use the internet to pass the time, have fun, vent, or escape the real world, and it’s such a shame that they’re met with rejection instead. But, honestly, what can you expect from people who minimize or whitewash bullying other than more bullying?

#pro severus snape #severus snape #severus snape fandom #snapedom #the marauders #marauders fandom #marauders stans #dead gay wizards of nonense #dead gay wizards but only if they're rich and pretty #dead gay wizards from the 70s #dead gay wizards #barty crouch jr #sirius black #james potter

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fight-nights-at-freddys · 23 days ago

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So i discovered mouthwashing, the game

The game is really beauitful, and complex and really harrowing but the mouthwashing fandom is so utter rancidly garbage i never felt so mentally drained on my life because of a fandom...i had to distance myself from it after interacting with it like FOUR days

Like fans on Twitter and TikTok is damn rude and disrespectful as hell

yeah fandom is really dead at this point

.. damn i really loved that game now i feel really alone

NO BUT I FEEL YOU 100%

i have a lot i love about that game, i love how artsy it can get, i love how contained it is (if that makes sense??) every single character is necessary for the story, if you added or subtracted, it just wouldn’t be the same.

Same could be said with the dialogue, every single scene holds a purpose, it never lingers on too long nor do you feel like it’s lacking in interaction, even tho i wish there was more Anya and Swansea scenes or even Daisuke and Anya, it doesn’t feel like the game is worse without them, nor would be better with them.

and JIMMY OMG, the way they portray him is fantastic, its not just some boring “he’s an awful person!! He’s a monster” he actually has DEPTH AND IS PORTRAYED AS HUMAN.

and the fandom takes all of that and boils it down to “i feel bad for people who draw/write Jambalaya :(“ or “Daisuke and Swansea are so father/son coded!!” and if you disagree or look any deeper, suddenly you’re the bad person.

they always say “this fandom isn’t for fun” when talking about shippers or even simps, but when it comes to things they find funny or enjoyable, its okay. Its double standards: the fandom. And if you don’t like it, well then you have bad morals ig??

i’ve gotten into many fights on tiktok abt it, and i’ve seen constant hate for those who fit outside of others comfort zones. Its okay to not like smth, theres ships I don’t like in MW, yet, thats when you scroll away and just ignore it.

its worse on your mental health when you actively engage with things you don’t like/that make you uncomfortable. Which is why I’ve blocked people and been getting into less fights abt this stuff, and I respect that you’ve also taken a step back even tho it sucks.

you shouldn’t hate fandom, fandom shouldn’t be policing ppl and become so weirdly authoritarian to a point where every time you claim to like a character, you have to put a big warning saying “I DO NOT CONDONE THEIR ACTIONS IRL” because thats a given in fiction.

#Mouthwashing #proship #pro ship #proshippers please interact #pro shippers please interact #anti anti #profiction #pro fiction #profic #pro fic #🧁🍕#But yeah tldr: i really do feel you anon and i’m sorry :(#Anon

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intotheelliwoods · 2 years ago

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I love nearly singlehandedly providing this fandom with the Present and Future Leo fluff it did not know it needed <3

I mentioned it a bit in the ESSAY in this post, but to restate, I do not have any plans on having the two fight. Or have any form of resentment! There will never be such a time do not worry :)

They are both very impressed and astounded over how much the other has grown!

---

2AL absolutely slayed no doubt about that. I would have reblogged or said something about it, but honestly it was just really funny watching my mutuals fight the bloody battle in my honor lmao

---

I actually mentioned this a good bit in this post! I have indeed thought about this on multiple occasions!

Regarding Future Leo and Splinter: OUghh I will forever think about how their reunion would go, but so many other people have done their own take on the reunion to the point where I do not see much of a need to add my own take, since it would not be very different from the others (as in it would involve crying, hugging, face cradling, something about getting so big, you know, the usual)

Regarding Present Leo and Splinter: Ok now THIS could actually actually go somewhere as a new concept, I ended up just doodling this thinking about it haha. Splinter would be very pained over the whole situation, it already hurts him to see his sons go off on dangerous missions, its another to see that one now bears a permanent wound from it. I think Splinter, along with mostly everyone else, would avoid looking at the missing arm as much as they can, until the proshetic comes in anyways. Leo meanwhile, is definitely using "it was bound to happen no matter what I did" as his excuse and reasoning for why no one should feel bad about the ordeal

Though before I do literally anything with Splinter I need to stop being a coward and finally get to work on the Casey comic oops

@dandywonderous

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I am assuming this is from the arm cut off scale, in which case, congratulations anon you are a normie

2 through 4 <- the normie range /j

---

Little sidenote meanwhile: I am begging you all to have a little bit of mercy when sending in art requests/suggestions. Little doodle requests are fun! Asking me to create a full comic or something that will take me multiple hours is not fun. I was not going to bring it up but seeming as its happened multiple times now I thought I should just say a something.

The only reason the last comic was "inspired" by two anon asks was because one of them actually genuinely inspired me, and the other was nice and vague enough that I could incorporate it into its story.

#asks #2 arms left #rottmnt #future leo #my art

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childlikegoblinqueen · 3 months ago

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SCOM FINALE writing notes (Probably the first of MANY!)

THE IMPORTANCE OF NAMES.

Hey! I am so excited to have brought Sweet Child O' Mine full circle. One thing I kept REALLY close to the chest was the name of the baby.

I DID share it with a few artists I worked with though. Thank you in particular to @lovemoroporo @findmeinthefallair @smallpapers for holding onto that! You are AMAZING!

Thanks also to @the-omori-archives who made AMAZING fanart of her!

Quick note below. I think I accidentally shared an ask with her name yesterday, but I want to pretend to keep it under wraps for a little longer.

Names are super important in folklore! I think the whole TOH fandom began really SEEING Hunter in Hunting Palisman. Obviously, we saw him unmasked for the first time, but we also saw his quirks and vulnerabilities. Also, we saw that the Golden Guard is a child.

So for me, the first real heart breaking moment was when Hunter lowered his staff. His eyes softened and he gave Luz his name.

Shortly after is our real first visual proof that Hunter's relationship with Belos is both emotionally and physically abusive. We see him accept Flapjack and loosen his grip and apologize for holding him so hard.

THE FORESHADOWING!

But we all know this! What I wanted to work with in SCOM was that it seemed that NO ONE other than Belos (and later Luz) actually knew Hunter's name. Maybe this was just my conclusion. Others have analyzed this as well. But it seemed like just another thing used to exert control and ownership over Hunter.

Hunter's feeling about his name comes up A LOT in SCOM. At one point he explicitly asks Willow not to name the baby "Hunter", because his name is his burden to bear.

Funnily enough, Steve and Katya are naming their son Orion. Something that genuinely shocks Hunter. Steve tells him he and Katya wanted to name their son after him because they (Steve especially) admires Hunter. I also realize this means that one of Artemis' close family friends will have a name that's a similar variation to her own.

Do you all think they'd be close?

Of course, Steve's reveal about the name he has chosen for his son is followed by a flashback where Steve and Hunter meet for the first time and Steve is hazed by the Scouts who tell him he has to beat Hunter up (I think Hunter was 8 at the time? I have to look back.) I imagine Steve in SCOM universe to be 8 years older than Hunter. I'm working on an AU where that gap is SLIGHTLY LESS, but here, it seemed to make more sense.

Steve himself in SCOM only became "Steve Tholomule" after realizing his birth father was a bad person, and accepting his stepdad as a parent -- and taking his name.

As I mentioned in my notes at the last chapter, Artemis was ALWAYS going to be the baby's name, for many reasons that readers have already picked up on.

But on top of everything, what I REALLY wanted to play with Hunter's feelings about his name and with Artemis coming into his life, allowing Hunter to change what he saw as a burden to a blessing.

Any questions about this or anything else? Feel free to ask.

#sweet child o mine #hunter noceda #toh fanfic #spotify #toh hunter #a03 fanfic #the owl house #huntlow #willow park #willow x hunter #SCOM spoilers #sweet child o’ mine spoilers #toh scom spoilers

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oddballwriter · 1 year ago

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The Moon Boys as Dads

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Warnings: The moon boys being girl dads and mentions of Jake teaching your kid how to fight a bitch

Author’s Snip: This would happen eventually. It's been bubbling in my mind since I've started writing for Moon Knight. It's inevitable, everyone in this fandom wants to have their babies.

Notes: I genuinely think that Jake's part is the only one that would be troubling but let's face it. If Jake had a kid, especially a daughter, he's going to teach her how to fight and send the to the ER or to the scale

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Okay. First thing I need to make straight. I understand that the idea of them having a son is deep. Have it that it heals some of that inner child in Marc and thus the rest of them. And I think that idea is lovely. Honestly can't get enough of it, gets me in the bullseye of my feels

But these men are such girl dads, all three of them

So we're gonna go slightly off of that

Steven Grant

Steven strikes me as the type of guy who just fits into the family man role so well

Absolute proud stay at home dad who has a million photos of all of his kids energy.

Yep, that's right, kids, plural, he wants a bunch of them

He understands and respects if you want just one or two but... like...

He's so good with kids, come on, episode one where he was talking with the little girl??? You can't tell he's not great with kids. He can handle a gaggle of kids if you'd be okay with having a bunch with him.

"One for each of the us" is a joke he'd make

But let's go with the perspective that you have a daughter with him

Already he's just obsessed with her as soon as he gets to hold her

Kids are very chatty, which is great because Steven's chatty and also listens, so if your daughter is talking about her day at school then he listens and nods along.

He'd also do this with her as a baby when all she could do was babble. He'd just listen to it and say "And then what?"

Steven, although he can be quite sassy, is naturally very polite and I'm pretty sure that rubs off on your daughter. He teaches her proper manners like saying "please", "thank you", and "excuse me"

Teaches her about Egyptology because of course he does, you think he's not going to give her those kids books about Egypt? You think the egyptology nerd isn't going to make his kid an egyptology nerd?

If she takes on another interests that's fine too but you think you aren't going to have one more dork in your house?

He praises her all the time for being interested in so many things.

Not to make him sound like one of those dads but he's glad that his kid reads books

Marc Spector

I'll save you what you've heard before. Marc is unsure, Marc is worried that he's gonna fuck up, Gods have mercy on Marc, blah blah blah

And sure I'll go in on it a little bit too

Marc is of course worried about how well he'd do at parenting since he still has some emotional and mental scars that haven't fully been patched up or wounds he's too scared to lick

But hey, he knows what not to do, and that's at least something

He might helicopter parent a little, maybe even a lot, when your daughter is little, especially if she gets her adventurous side early and it's really strong

You and the boys might have to remind him that she's a kid, she's gonna want to navigate and explore what's around her and maybe she'll do something dumb and get hurt a bit

As long as she knows what's dangerous and what's gonna earn her a band-aid

Marc's good when she's a kid but I feel like he just feels more comfortable when she's older, like teenager age

I actually feel like he'd be one of those dads who gets it in his kids head that they can still be a teenager and do teenager things but don't get into any trouble or do something really bad

"Focus on school and stay away from those groups" type of dad that really just means "Don't get Fs in class and don't get arrested."

He's letting her make mistakes and grow from it but he's not gonna baby her either

Marc won't entirely be the "No boys allowed" type of dad either. But if she brings a boy home for any reason, even if the boy's just a classmate that she's doing a project with, then he's telling her that the door stays open till he leaves or they do the project and research in living room or whatever

He's so proud of her too. He makes sure she knows just how loved she is and that he will always be there

Marc actually wants to be the type of parent where whenever his daughter gets in trouble or make a mistake that she thinks "I need to call my dad." instead of "My dad's going to kill me."

Jake Lockley

Jake would have said he wanted a boy but that's a lie he wants a girl first

I can see both Marc and Jake not really being the types to keep their kid in gender roles, neither is Steven if his daughter wants to do things that are considered masculine or boyish then he won't stop her he just sort of defaults to thinking that she'd want to do girly things, but Jake is the type of dad that wouldn't care if he has a daughter he's gonna teach her how to stuff and to take shit from no one

She's going to be a spitfire if Jake's her daddy, that's for sure. A real Buttercup.

She once got in trouble for fighting a boy in her grade because he was making fun of her and he scolded her when you were around but he was secretly so proud

When she's older he teaches her how to fight people and defend herself, I mean he already told her to do that when she was younger but back then it was kick, bite, and scream. When she's a teen it's teaching her how to right and left hook and disorientate

Fuck, she's probably good with a knife too

Jake knows that your daughter can handle herself pretty well but he's still going to be protective over her

If she has a relationship and they put their hands on her that person's just straight up dead

She might know how to aim for the vitals and wash blood off her clothes but she's still his little princess

#moon knight #moonknight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader

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kandisheek · 5 months ago

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Cap-Ironman Rec Week 2024

Time Travel Tuesday: July 23rd

Prompt: Rec all those great fanworks where Tony or Steve (or Tony and Steve) travel to the past or the future or to an alternate past or future and discover unexpected realities and new truths!

I absolutely love this trope! And we are truly blessed in this fandom to have so many fantastic authors tackling it. Here is a very small selection of my favorite time-travel / timey-wimey-shenanigan fics:

-- And Has Time Enough by wanttobeatree

Tony asks if they have met. It's a matter of perspective. (A Time Traveller's Wife AU.)

-- Double Time by Sineala

Cassino, Italy, December 1943. Special Agent Tony Stark, former Marvels adventurer, is sent to investigate a Cosmic Cube found by the Invaders -- and it's the perfect opportunity for him to rekindle his secret romance with Steve Rogers. But when Hydra attempts to steal the Cube, an inadvertent wish for help leads to the appearance of a Tony from the future of another world: Director Stark of SHIELD. This Tony is a man with a lot on his mind. He refuses to tell them anything about the future, but he seems to know much more than he should about Captain America. And something's happened that's clearly killing him inside, but he's not talking. When Director Stark's failed attempt to return home leads to the unexpected appearance of another visitor from his universe, all the lies come undone. Now there are two wars to fight, and the second one could ruin all of them.

-- A Shadow Hanging Over Our Fate by CaptainDean13

The Avengers get sent back in time to WWII where they run into the Howling Commandos... complete with Bucky and Steve. Little hard to explain that away, especially when you are trying to keep some major secrets. Secrets like how you ended up in the future and why the hell Bucky is now a scary (reformed) assassin with a metal arm, not to mention that you married your friend's son.

MORE RECS BELOW THE CUT:

-- The Good or Bad Thing by petreparkour

“It’s the metal suit,” Thor informed Steve, his normally-booming voice tinny over the SHIELD comms. “What did Stark call it—Iron Man?” “But he’s down here,” Steve protested as the Hulk roared in Stark’s face, startling him into waking with a shout. “How could—” “It’s damaged,” Thor reported. “But it looks different. More advanced. And he—ah. He’s carrying you, Captain.” “Please tell me nobody kissed me,” Stark breathed out, and then Stark’s voice suddenly came over the comms, but the man lying next to him hadn’t moved. “Guys, come on, you’re killing me here. What is it, 2012? God, I hate time travel. First, I'm fighting Thanos. Now, I have to deal with my past self and Thor's bad haircut? Oh my God, Cap, yes I hacked their comms, they’re my comms.” Steve nearly opened his mouth to protest that he hadn’t said anything when he realized that this replica of Tony Stark wasn’t speaking to him.

-- Calls Me Home by steve-capsicle-rogers (adorable_lab_rat)

Tony can't help but notice the far away look on Steve's face. The visible pain and loss. It wasn't right and giving Steve back everything he'd lost was the right choice. The right thing. And honestly Tony didn't do the right thing near enough.

-- A Hundred Times, Once by FestiveFerret, SirSapling

The shrill tone of his SHIELD beeper pulls Steve out of sleep and into battle. He fights robots, he fights Tony's shameless advances, he fights the exhaustion that threatens to take over him, drown him. And then the next morning, he wakes and does it again. Exactly the same. And again. And again. And again.

-- hunters seeking solid ground by laramara

In the wake of the battle with Thanos, Steve feels unmoored in a way he hasn’t since before he ate shawarma with a group of virtual strangers and thought maybe, maybe he could one day find a place here. Steve returns the stones, and has a few unexpected interactions and makes some decisions along the way.

-- The Butterfly Effect by itsallAvengers

While fighting with Loki, Steve Rogers from 2012 hears the two simple words: "Bucky's alive." And the whole universe ripples with the aftershocks.

#capimrecweek #stony #stevetony #fanfic recs #ficrec #marvel #time travel tuesday

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blancheludis · 3 months ago

Text

Whumptober Day 1: Panic Attacks

Fandom: Batman Characters: Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Tags: Emotional Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Tim, Bruce Wayne Tries to be a Good Parent, Protective Alfred

Summary: "I'm not your father," Bruce growls as Tim goes down for the hundredth time this session.

For a moment, Tim just lies there, panting, right up until Bruce comes closer, towering over him, anger pulling his face into a sight that does not need to a cowl to put fear into someone's heart. "I know, Bruce," Tim wheezes out more than he says. "I didn't -"

"I think, maybe you don't know." Bruce bears down on him but thankfully does not push his advantage to jump right back into the fight. Perhaps what he is doing with his words is worse. "You're only here to do a job. When you put on the mask, you become a tool. You stop being a child, and you're definitely not my son."

- A simple comment by an old woman on patrol brings their entire, careful routine down. But Tim can be better. They made a deal and he will stick to it.

---

It is just a throwaway comment from some elderly lady as Tim ushers her out of her burning building. She halts at the foot of the stairs to put a hand on Batman's arm, with all the calm of someone whose life was not in danger just a minute ago, and says, "You raised your son right."

Batman, of course, does not answer, but theirs is not a relationship of many words, anyway, and Tim is hyperaware of the way Batman's shoulders rise just so, as if they could make a shield to ward off the words, and how his jaw gets, impossibly, tenser. Then he is off, back into the burning building and Tim, cautiously, allows himself to breathe. This is not part of their deal, but it is hardly like he can control what strangers say. But it is not like excuses ever helped Tim to avoid lectures.

He leads the old lady off to where a few ambulances are already gathered and lets her cling to his arm until she is safely deposited into a foldable chair, ready to be looked over.

"Thank you, son," she says, patting his cheek, completely unaware that she might have thrown him into a world of trouble.

"Take care, ma'am," he says as he darts off, back towards the flames. It is always easier to concentrate on the job.

---

The thing is, Bruce does not say anything. Neither for the rest of the patrol, nor when they make it back to the cave. He does not even remind Tim to file his report before he leaves. Tim still looks after him, as he ascends the stairs to the manor, wondering whether he should start that particular conversation.

---

He does not have to. Training, two days later, is brutal. Almost as bad as when Tim was first coming to the manor, those first months when he used to limp home every day and had his life turn into a crash course on how to use bandages and splints, on how to tape ribs back into place and work through a concussion. He has gotten better since then, but he is still no match against a furious Batman. Time and again, he barely makes it to his feet before Bruce sends him crashing down again, layering bruises over bruises.

Back when he took self-defence classes, his teacher taught him the most important thing in training was to know when he was done and to tap out right before that. Tim has tried exactly once to tap out in a sparring session with Bruce. Right now, despite how much good it will do him, he considers trying for a second time. Perhaps he has become complacent.

"I'm not your father," Bruce growls as Tim goes down for the hundredth time and aims a kick at Tim's ribs that he is barely quick enough to dodge.

For a moment, he just lies there, panting, right up until Bruce comes closer, towering over him, anger pulling his face into a sight that does not need to a cowl to put fear into someone's heart.

"I know, Bruce," Tim wheezes out more than he says. "I didn't -"

Tim's entire body hurts, but this is hitting somewhere beneath his skin, crushing his ribcage with a direct impact on his heart, pushing all the air out of his lungs.

"That woman didn't mean anything by it. She just -" he tries to argue, although he knows better.

"This isn't about her," Bruce cuts him off, making Tim wonder how long he has been misreading the signs. "You've grown too comfortable here, imposing where you're not wanted. You should be here only for training and patrol."

"I -" Tim swallows, an apology on his tongue that burns as he forces it back down. "Yes, sir."

"Leave," Bruce orders and is already turning away. "I'll call you when I need you."

Bruce walks out, silent in his rage, never once looking back. And Tim, still lying on the mat, unwilling to sort through his various hurts, just tries to breathe.

He knows he has become complacent. Things have become so much better over the past weeks. Excluding today, he has not left every sparring session with new bruises spanning his body. Alfred has taken to inviting him up for meals and Tim got to talk to a real human being about things he likes. And during patrol, he even sometimes talked to Bruce, things going beyond battle plans and reports. It is not what he came here for, Bruce is right, but it is still something Tim treasured. The ice in Bruce's voice and his otherwise completely dispassionate face, clearly tell him that it has to come to an end.

Tim came here to make Batman better, to keep him from slipping. He never wanted to replace anyone, to fill the shoes of Bruce's son. He could not, even if he dared, too. For a while, Bruce and Batman were getting better, and it is Tim's job to keep it that way. If he is making things worse again, he needs to step back. His parents always tell him to remember his place and mind his manners. He is good at that. He can be good.

With a sigh, Tim gets up from the mat, The ribs on his right side protest the movement, where Bruce got him earlier with a well-aimed hit. Well, he has long since learned to stock up on ice packs.

Unwilling to linger longer that he should, Tim cleans the space and then takes a quick shower. Under the hot water, he promises himself to do better. No attachments, no weighing Bruce down. He will be Robin for as long as Batman needs someone to keep him away from the destructive downwards spiral he was on after Jason's death. He can be invisible otherwise. That, at least, is something his parents taught him well.

---

In the entrance hall, Alfred stops him, because, of course, the universe wants to test him right away.

"Lunch is almost ready, Master Tim, if you want to join us."

Years of practice at galas and stilted dinners at home make it easy to pull a smile on his face. "Thank you, Alfred, but I need to get going." It is not a lie if he does not give a reason.

A small, petty part of him thinks it would be easier if Bruce just laid down the law for Alfred, too. Why does Tim need to lie to the only kind, selfless person in this entire mess. Of course, he wants to stay for lunch. Of course, he wants to eat a home-cooked meal instead of scavenging the fridge at Drake Manor for something simple he can put together. Of course, he wants conversation and laughter and maybe to be more than a tool. But that was not the deal, and Tim knows how to do business. If someone does not do their part, they get cut off. Simple as that. And too much hinges on Batman staying on the right track for Tim to back off now, just because of his delicate sensibilities. Once the world is back in order - however that will look - Tim will have enough time to make a life for himself.

Alfred's forehead pinches into a frown but he does not protest. He, too, knows his place in this house, knows when to wield his influence and when not to bother.

"Promise me to get some rest, Master Tim. Training ran long, today."

Tim nods, not trusting his words, and then he is off, keeping his steps measured as if they do not jostle his ribs. Time to get his game face on again.

---

An entire week passes before Tim is called in again. He tries very hard not to read anything more into that than Bruce simply needing time for himself. He spends every night following Batman's path through Gotham, looking for any sign that he is slipping. But there are no criminals being rushed to the ICU, no excessive force being used. Despite his earlier determination, despite knowing his purpose, Tim really hopes he has not become superfluous, already. If Batman is back on track to doing more good than harm, then he does not need Tim to keep him there. So, every day, he presses his fingers into the bruise atop his ribs and waits for a message that does not come.

Until it does. Thankfully, the manor is empty and no one can witness Tim's relief.

---

"Good evening," Tim greets as he enters the cave and gets some sort of rumble in return. He does not mind.

Bruce is already suited up, so Tim hurries to get ready. He can be quiet and efficient. That might be the first lesson he ever learned, long before he ever knew Batman even existed.

"Tim." Bruce stops him when he has one foot already on the stairs.

Tim braces himself before he turns around and immediately scolds himself for it. It is not like Bruce will do anything to him. Wordlessly, he looks up.

"You're favouring your left side."

Without missing a beat, Tim shrugs and does not even wince. "Just a bruise," he says and is glad he has taken to wearing darker colours. He does not trust the bandage to keep all his blood on the inside until he is safely tucked away at home and can take proper care of the wound. "I'll be in perfect working condition tomorrow."

He does not wait for a reply. Bruce is usually happy to let him deal with any of his issues himself, but sometimes he remembers he does not actually trust anybody else to do as good a job as he could and then he tends to fuss. Tim does not need Bruce's attention when he is hiding a bullet wound underneath his shirt. It was just a graze anyway. He would prefer not to be benched, considering he has a job to do.

"Good night, sir." He does not turn around quickly enough to pretend he did not see the frown on Bruce's face, but he does not stop Tim from leaving, so it probably counts as a win nonetheless.

---

Training with stitches in his side proves to be a challenge. Agility and speed are Tim's best tool against Bruce's strength and experience, and he is rather lacking in both at the moment.

When Tim hits the mat for the fifth time in as many minutes, Bruce glares down at him.

"It seems like you're getting worse, not better."

That stings maybe worse than Tim's ribs do. Talking about ribs, at this rate, he does not think they will ever heal. But it does not matter. The bullet grazed him on his left side and it is more important to protect that. He does not want to draw Alfred's ire by leaving blood stains all over the training room. And he really, really does not want to redo the stitches either. Once was hard enough.

"I'm sorry, sir," Tim wheezes, trying to get his breathing under control. It is harder than it should be. Everybody knows how to breathe, so why does it seem like such a monumental task, all of a sudden?

"Maybe you should take some time off."

Before the words fully register, Tim is already standing. He is not quite sure how, and the world is still not quite in focus, but he is here, on his own two feet, shaking his head. Usually, Bruce just growls again at him and charges without waiting for a response. This is worse. Tim does not want to be benched.

"I'm good," he says and, for all intents and purposes, means it.

Bruce hesitates and that just will not do. Taking a deep breath, Tim bans the black out of his vision by sheer will alone and jumps right back into the fight.

---

"Master Tim -"

"Bye, Alfred."

---

By the time Tim dares to take the stitches out, he has got an assortment of all new bruises across his body. His ribs are still a lost cause, but the thing is, he has gotten better at protecting his weak points without giving away he has any. And who could have known that pain tolerance is something he could train. Tim would still prefer to avoid getting shot at, but, all in all, he counts it as a win.

Bruce notices it, too. Or, at least, he sometimes offers some acknowledgment after training is over. Less you're unworthy of Robin and more not half-bad. Tim barely knows what to do with so much positive reinforcement. It is weird.

Other things are weird, too.

"Alfred misses you," Bruce says one day, sounding like the words are pieces of glass he has to chew. "You should come to dinner before patrol."

Tim stares while Bruce, very pointedly, does not look at him but rather at some point over his shoulder.

This must be a test, although Tim is not clear on the why. He was doing good. He got in and out of the mansion without any fuss. His locker is pristine and he makes sure none of his things are ever left outside of it. He does not take more medical supplies than he absolutely needs until he can patch himself up properly at home. Most days, he even skips the utilitarian post-patrol shower because it does not make sense to bother anyone with his continued presence for it if he has more than enough hot water just a mile down the road. He is doing his job and does his absolute best not to step over the clearly drawn lines of it.

Still, his parents raised him to have manners.

"I'll make sure to thank Alfred before I leave," he says and keeps all of his confusion to himself.

Considering the matter dealt with, Tim wipes the sweat from his face and puts the towel in his bag as he picks it up. After patrol tonight, he should do laundry. There is no danger of running out of towels, but he wants to avoid questions by Mrs. Mac when she next comes in.

"Will you?" Bruce asks, his tone not as flat as Tim has become used to, which does not make it easier to read.

Tim is already on his way to the door but stops, briefly. "What?"

"Come to dinner?"

What kind of question is that? Tim actually feels insulted by it. At least that is what he calls the sudden pressure on his sternum. He can barely make himself even more invisible. But perhaps Bruce just wants to make sure he has not forgotten his place.

"No, sir," Tim says, almost gentle in his reassurance. He knows what he is here for. "I'll be on time for patrol."

---

Things decidedly do not go to plan. Tim arrives at Wayne Manor on time and puts his shoes away in their place to the side of the foyer. It is not their place, of course, but one for guests, not that the manor sees many of those. It would not do to track dirt through the house on his way to the cave, and he is all the quieter when wearing just his socks.

When he turns around, though, Alfred stands in the door, greeting him with a big smile entirely inappropriate for the near heart attack he just gave Tim. "Master Tim, we're running a bit late. You're welcome to join us."

Tim stares. They have never, ever been late for patrol, not even the one time Alfred slipped something into Bruce's tea to make him stay in for a night after getting shot. Tim still thinks Bruce burned through the stuff thanks to pure spite, just to get up, put on the cowl and stalk Gotham's streets with no regards to his own health.

There is no running late for patrol. If - and that, too, is a big if - Alfred were not done with dinner on time, then there would be no dinner. Period.

"That's all right," Tim says, hoping his face is as controlled as he wills it to be. "I'll wait downstairs. There's a report I meant to go through again anyway."

That is supposed to be it. Yet, Alfred's smile never even wavers. "Nonsense. Come, I'll walk with you."

"Alfred, Bruce won't -"

"Master Bruce is waiting."

Tim swallows a laugh at that, because that is a lie if he ever heard one. But he still starts moving because, surely, making Bruce wait for him is worse than turning up in the first place. Although, he admits, this seems like one of these scenarios where he cannot win, no matter what he does.

Bruce sits at the head of the table, looking at the door when they come in with an expression on his face that Tim cannot quite decipher. His jaw is clenched, of course, but Tim has never seen it any other way. His shoulders, though, seem almost hunched. That must be the light.

Worse, though, is the fact that there is not yet any food on the table. This is not just running late, this is the epitome of a world-ending disaster. Tim is not sure he can sit through an entire dinner without freaking out. Over the past weeks he has become comfortable with their routine. During training he gets pummelled into the mat, although not quite as severely as in the beginning. During patrol, he is a shadow or a scout or sometimes gets sent off on his own. After, they clean up, compare information, and go their separate ways. There is no chitchat, no small talk, no debates. At first, Tim thought it was lonely, but since then he has realized that, the less they say, the fewer chances he has to say something wrong.

A second place is prepared to Bruce's right, where Tim used to sit back when he occasionally ate here. It feels like a mockery, but Tim decides not to acknowledge it.

"Good evening, sir," Tim says and moves exactly two steps into the room so Alfred can get past him. Not a step further, though. "Do you want me to prepare anything down in the cave until you're ready?" Really, they could have called and told Tim to come later. That would have spared them this awkwardness.

"No." Bruce sounds like it is hard to even get that much out in Tim's presence, choked and hesitant. "Sit."

Tim stares. Bruce has never invited him to the table. Usually, Alfred brought him here and pushed him into a seat and Bruce simply endured it. What has changed? Why would Bruce break his own rules? Unless Tim has done something wrong. Unless he has gone too far and Bruce needs to tell him off and needs to do so with a witness and -

Oh.

Bruce intends to throw him out and for some reason, probably because Alfred forced him to, wants to do it in a civilized manner, or to make sure that Tim really understands him this time. That this is it. Tim's brief stint as Robin is over, because he cannot do anything right. Sure, Batman does not seem as volatile anymore, unlikely to leave a trail of dead criminals behind him on patrol, but that does not mean he should go out alone, that he does not need a Robin. Unless he has someone else, someone better, someone who does not need as many bruises and reminders to learn, someone worthy of being Robin.

A hand on his shoulder jars Tim back into reality. "Master Tim," Alfred says, sounding worried of all things.

"Of course." Tim moves mechanically forward. Briefly, he wonders whether he should spare them all this farce. He understands, he really does. They do not need to go through the motions. He can empty his locker and be out of their lives in ten minutes, faster if they will just send his things over later.

He goes to a seat on Bruce's left side, two places down. Bruce has never hurt him outside of training, but the rules have obviously changed and - something sharp and bitter lodges in his throat for even thinking something like that. Neither Bruce nor Batman would ever hurt a child, and that is all Tim is now, the neighbours' boy. Even though he knows too much.

"Would you prefer that side of the table, Master Tim?" Alfred's voice is at once too close and too far away.

Tim knows he is likely having a panic attack. Or is rapidly sliding into one. But that cannot happen here. His parents taught him better. Bruce taught him better. Panic helps nobody. Anyway, he will have time for that later, when he is back in his own house. Mrs. Mac is not scheduled to come by for four days and his parents will not be back in Gotham for months. Tim will have more room and time for panic than he ever wanted. But not here, not now. Not with Batman looking at him like he does at victims at crime scenes and - what?

Everything comes to a sudden standstill; his racing heartbeat, the spinning room, the entire world for all he knows. Whatever else he is - weak, inadequate, a bother - he is Timothy Jackson Drake and he is not a victim.

"No, thank you, Alfred," Tim says as a terrible calm washes over him, pushing every last tendril of panic far down. He moves around the table to sit down at Bruce's right, straightening the cutlery that Alfred had begun to pick up. His palms are clammy, but he does not move to wipe them on his trousers. They will dry, and he will not move a muscle out of place.

Silence falls as Alfred goes to the kitchen. Tim does not know what to make of the way Bruce looks at him, once again unreadable. They sit like this until Alfred comes back, putting steaming soup in front of them. Tim thanks him, calm, composed, just as he was taught, and does not think about how he missed Alfred's cooking, made with love and care. He wishes he could eat it again under different circumstances. As it is, he is sure he will not taste any of it and will, in fact, have to make sure to keep it all in until he is far away from this house.

Tim picks up his spoon but waits, pointedly, for Bruce to eat first. They did not bother with such formalities when he was last in this room, but he is not going to take any chances. After long minutes, in which Bruce looks like he is going to talk, rather than eat, at least until Alfred clears his throat, they begin. The soup is warm and smooth, and yet it feels like Tim has to swallow around something sharp-edged.

Everything goes surprisingly well - nobody suffocates in the silence that is thick enough to cut, at least - until Alfred comes back with the main course but does not move back from the table but sits down. Another breach of protocol.

"How is your photography coming along?" he asks, nonchalant as if they are just picking up some conversation they interrupted a minute ago.

Tim almost cringes but manages to catch himself. Still, he sends an apologetic look at Bruce. Apparently, nobody reminded Alfred of the rules and now Bruce has to sit through small talk about the inconsequential hobbies of the neighbours' boy he really does not want anything to do with beyond his willingness to wear a costume at night and traipse around Gotham's rooftops- and probably not even that anymore.

"Good," Tim says and leaves it at that. This is a better answer than telling them he does not have time anymore for silly things like photography when he is already stretched thin between training, patrol, school and trying to nurse his body to stay in operating condition. Also, it is not like his favourite subjects are still available to him.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he catches Bruce frowning. He resolves to eat faster.

"And what about school?"

Are they just gearing up to tell him how much more time he will have for things normal boys his age do once he is thrown out and done playing Robin?

Tim's stomach twists. He doubts it is a good idea to eat so much before patrol. All the dodging and zipping through the night air will only make him nauseous - or would, if he were still going out. That is it. He is done.

"I'm full," Tim blurts out, willing his insides to settle. Bruce has barely touched his plate, so there will be plenty of time for Tim to empty out his locker and his stomach before they will show him the door.

He pushes back from the table. "Thank you for dinner, Alfred. I'll just -"

"Tim." Bruce's voice is flat, not particularly angry, but not not angry either.

Without conscious thought, Tim abandons his move to get up and slots back into place, his shoulders straight, his expression already pulled into something appropriate for an apology. "I'm sorry, sir," he says, for good measure, although he is really not sure anymore what is going on.

"It's me who should apologize." Which is a clever thing to do, not an apology in itself but simply the acknowledgment that there should be one. Only, of course, neither Batman nor Bruce Wayne does apologies. It is just not done. "I have been pushing you too hard and have not insisted on properly checking you over after training and patrol."

And Tim is glad for that. Otherwise, his little run-in with that bullet might have gotten him benched and he would have missed out on some critical lessons on how to fight injured, on how to protect one part of him without completely screwing over the rest.

"Everything's fine," Tim says, more of a croak, really, like some of these complicated feelings roiling inside him are still stuck in his throat. "I can take care of myself." Always had to.

"You shouldn't have to."

Well, they are veering dangerously close to a philosophical debate neither of them can win. Tim's parents are rich, meaning he has a roof over his head, a fridge that is regularly restocked by a housekeeper and enough pocket money to buy whatever he needs. All the danger he is in comes from choices he made. It is entirely up to him whether he behaves as befits his station and his parents’ expectations. He does not have to be Robin, just like he did not have to wander Gotham's streets at night for the chance of taking a picture of her vigilantes. At no point was holding Tim's hand and mollycoddling him part of his deal with Bruce.

Doing his best to channel his mother's unimpressed authority, he asks, "Sir, what is going on?"

He is not stupid. This was a setup, but he does not think Bruce would have the patience to draw things out this much if he were to fire Tim, and he has never had any problems demanding more of Tim either. He did not have to go to these lengths for any of that. Which begs the question what is happening.

Bruce looks at Alfred, almost helpless in his clumsiness. "I'm -" he starts, then tries again. "Tim, I haven't been treating you right."

Whatever Tim was expecting, this is not it.

"What do you even mean by that? Everything is as it's supposed to be." Does he think Tim wants to complain? Why would he? He is already getting more out of this than he expected; self-defence training, real-life experience as a detective, important life lessons. Then a thought stops him. "Unless I'm not performing up to standard. Well, my standard, not yours."

He waves his hand, then quickly aborts the motion, because it does not do to glib about his inadequacies. He is already giving so much, he is not sure he can give more. Well, no, he could if he has to.

But Bruce shakes his head, a sharp, decisive thing. "On the contrary. You have done more than I should expect."

Which is utter nonsense, but Tim smooths out his frown before it can fully form. "Is there a particular area I should concentrate on getting better in?"

"Tim, you're not listening." Bruce leans forward, his voice taking on a distinctly desperate note. It is all Tim can do not do move backwards. "I'm the one who should do better." Bruce takes a breath and visibly composes himself. "From now on, training will only be three days a week and not on days you're out on patrol. Every night before patrol you will attend dinner, and after, we will do a standard medical check-up. If there are any concerns, you will stay overnight. You will bring any issues to my attention or to Alfred's."

Silence falls when Bruce is done, at once viscous and brittle, almost impossible to draw in and destructive on the exhale.

This will not do.

"With all due respect, sir," Tim bites out between clenched teeth, feeling like that one time his parents insisted on playing house only to be upset to find out he had developed his own routines, thanks to being alone for most of the year. "I'm not a child."

He stopped being a child at five, when his mother put him in a suit and told him to stop acting like one. He stopped being a child when his parents decided to fire the live-in nanny because he should take care of himself. He stopped being a child when he realized no one would come for him.

Through that angry tirade in his head, he hears Bruce say, "Yes, Tim, you are."

His chest is pressed so tight, Tim can barely get any air in, all while he fights the urge to pick up his plate and throw it across the room, just to get their eyes off him.

"Not here," he says, low and pulsing with that anger in his chest. "I'm Robin. I'm a tool. I can keep myself functional without you holding my hand." He cannot remember the last time someone held his hand. He does not need to, because there is nothing but sentimental value in a gesture like that. Nothing he needs.

"Master Tim," Alfred gasps as if the concept is entirely new to him. "You are not a tool."

A smile tugs at Tim's lips and he lets it because the alternative is infinitely worse. "Yes, Alfred, I am. That was the deal, and I am perfectly all right with that." He turns back to Bruce, lets the smile fall. "However, I am not all right with you changing the rules on me whenever you damn please. I know I've grown complacent, but you corrected me and now I'm doing what I'm here for. I don't appreciate being toyed with."

Suddenly out of breath, Tim pushes back his chair. He would have never dared to talk this way to his parents. Chances are this might have cost him Robin, but from the looks of it, this was only a matter of time anyway. And he is done with being other peoples' plaything. They made a deal and he has bled for it, so he would really like to not be the only one sticking to its rules.

"Now, is there anything else, or can I get ready for patrol?"

Bruce stares at him. If he were anyone else, Tim might have pegged his expression for hurt, but, well. The storm will probably break any moment now, and Tim would prefer to be elsewhere when it does, or at least to have some body armour on.

"We," Bruce clears his throat. "We won't go on patrol tonight. But we should -"

"Great, I'll get going then." Tim never would have dared to interrupt his parents either. His throat is closing, pressure building underneath his sternum, but he pushes it down. "Call me, when you need me. Alfred, thank you for dinner." With that, Tim stands up and does a tactical retreat. It is not fleeing when no one can see him run, and he very much intends to keep his steps measured until Wayne Manor is out of sight. Blessedly, nobody stops him as he retrieves his shoes. He leaves, he goes home. Nobody will ever know he barely manages to close the front door before he has a panic attack in his family home's foyer. Just like nobody will ever know that it feels like he is holding his breath until, early the next morning, Bruce writes him to come for patrol that night.

#whumptober2024 #no.1 #panic attack #batman #fic #hurt/comfort #tim drake #bruce wayne #my writing

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moirindeclermont · 6 months ago

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Men beyond the façade: Colin Bridgerton and William The Bloody (Spike)

TW: brief mention of SA;

Like many things, the idea for this post comes with a random thought… I was talking about Spike with a fandom friend who did not watch all Buffy, and we came up with the idea of a fic in which Colin is a Vampire and Pen is the Slayer, and as I was writing snippets of dialogue, I've catched myself writing in a very distinctive Spike voice.

“Everyone underestimates her. She was a woman, for starters. She was short and plump. Everyone underestimated her until they were about to be dead (or dead again) because of her stake. Not Colin Bridgerton. He was fascinated by Pen, by her vitality, her joy for life. Hell, even her fighting gave him a boner.”

That's when I've truly started thinking about it. Can these two characters, who are so vastly different in the perception of people, have a lot of traits in common, so much so that they actually can be almost the same? I've decided to talk about 3 main points: the persona or the façade they put on, their relationship with their SO and the importance of accountability.

Of course, this whole piece is based on my very personal interpretation of the characters. But even without a personal interpretation, some similarities are just… there for everyone to see.

But first, a bit of presentation, if you met only one half of the pair we are discussing. I do discuss some plot points but I'm trying not to get into too much detail. Anyway, this is your spoiler warning.

Colin Bridgerton is the 3rd son of a very important family during Regency time in London. His dad died when he was young, there was a brief engagement during the first season of the show which did end when people found out the future bride was already pregnant with another guy. After that, he decides to travel a bit, until after a kiss (and a summer without Pen's letters - his best friend) he realises he is in love with her and from that moment he becomes Colin “my wife” Bridgerton. He has gone bad. Just to tell you one thing, he interrupts a dance Pen is having with another suitor and proceeds to finger her on a carriage. The man is unhinged when it comes to Pen.

Spike, or William the Bloody, or William Pratt was an only son of a noble family during Victorian London. He was a poet but his creations didn't gain much success, earning him the nickname The Bloody because of the poor quality of his writing. He was sired by Drusilla, with whom he becomes involved for a good century, and the nickname gets reclaimed as an attribution to his violence. During his life he kills 2 slayers, until he arrives in Sunnydale. After events he falls in love with the current Slayer, Buffy, and he also becomes absolutely unhinged and pathetic about it.

But their similarities don't even begin with this. Both of them have this façade they use to be cool and accepted. Colin return in season 3 as a charming and fascinated man and everyone (except his best friend and some family) congratulates him about it. William literally uses Spike as a way to prove he has changed. He changes the look, the accent and builds this reputation of being the big bad. For both, the cracks in the façade are not a crack but a river in Egypt, because both of them take so much joy and purpose in being the providers. They slip into that role with such ease and familiarity that you can see it's just who they are at their core.

I've seen a post about Pen and Colin that says “when little Miss “I can do It by myself” meets Mr “I know you can but let me” and if that doest summarise the relationship Spike has with Buffy I do not know what else does.

They both have a dream about their Significant Other in which they depict a highly romantic scenario in which both confess their feelings, come on.

I've said before that Colin went to the Gomez Addams school of loving your wife, but Spike was also there.

They both can't absolutely function without their respective partners and while their relationship evolves in different ways it doesn't change who they are at their cores.

Now, I know you are thinking about Seeing Red, because yes I've talked about being pathetic but surely they can't be the same even under this aspect (for those who have not seen Buffy, Seeing Red is an episode in which Spike attempts to SA Buffy). And while, I do agree, Colin has not done something like that to Pen, I think he would definitely have done the same thing Spike did when he realised what he had done to Buffy. Because when he is confronted with his mistakes, Colin does take accountability and so does Spike. In a way that's vastly different, for obvious reasons, but they both do.

Yes, Colin and Pen are healthier than Spike and Buffy. Absolutely. But Colin and Pen is what Spike and Buffy can become after they both do the work on themselves and each other.

Yes, there are differences. One is a vampire, for starters. But the point I'm trying to make is that when you strip away the difference and put them in similar circumstances, their actions prove how similar they are.

How they both tried to put out a façade, but how quickly that fall when they were confronted with Love. How they both take pride in having a woman at their idea that's indipendent and strong. How they both truly see their partners entirely. How they both know when they fuck up and they don't stop at apologize but they do the work to get there.

If they met, you just know they would talk about their partners constantly.

(And if you're wondering about the sex, the only reason Colin and Pen didn't fuck a house down - yup that happens - it's because they physically can't. After all, they broke at least one piece of furniture.

And Colin and Pen won the title for freakiest couple in Mayfair. Even their respective kinks match pretty well in my opinion.)

Now, I don't think this was intentional at all. It's interesting though because it's not a common interpretation of the romantic interest at all. And maybe for Spike the intention was completely different behind the scenes (iykyk) but for Colin it is very intentional. But that is another story ..

Before conclusing this, let me just quote the two most beautiful declarations of love (one by Colin, and one by Spike) and think about what they're really saying… they are so much more similar than you might think.

Colin: “And now I simply cannot believe that a woman with such bravery loves me.How lucky I am to stand by your side and soak up even a little bit of your light. If my only purpose in life is to love a woman as great as you… then I will be a very fulfilled man, indeed.”

Spike: “When I say I love you, it's not because I want you. Or because I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you *are*. What you do. How you try... I've seen your kindness, and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand, with perfect clarity, exactly what you are... You're a *hell* of a woman... You're the One, Buffy.”

I'm curious, though, to hear your thoughts on this.

And if you're still here, regardless of what you think, thank you for being here 💓

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