#three dads and a kid cause crime on purpose

[flamingredanon]

Wall guard terrence and ccc operative right going undercover to try and take down the toppats only to switch sides after both falling for the chief's son reginald.

Terrence was supposed to be stopping criminals, not falling for one and Right needed to capture Reginald and stop a possible chaos event in the future, but instead he just looks at Reginald and thinks about the pretty twink.

Reginald's charms eventually woo Terrence and Right over to the Toppat's side for real and the three become a poly pile.

When Wilford is taken down in battle, Reginald becomes leader with Terrence and Right as his left and right hands.

The three of them become dads when they find a helpless child alone during a bad storm. They name him Henry Manfred Copperbottom Suave and Henry grows up with three wildly different but amazing dads that love him.

[paradisecas]

my mother told me i should go and get some therapy

@midamoulweek day 7: resilience and/or storytelling irdk

Adam arrives at her door ten minutes late, panting but grinning. “Sorry,” he says. “I got Michael to whip something up for us so we didn’t have to meet here but then he made this house which defeats the whole purpose—“ He’s flapping his hands about, a move Kate rarely saw on him when she was alive. “So I had to deal with all that.”

It should be nice to see him so animated, but knowing the source of his excitement dulls the moment for her.

Michael. Once upon a time, he was just an archangel that Kate’s mom made her pray to at Sunday service. He was nothing but a sculpture outside a church or a warrior in a painting or a character in a story.

Now he’s her son’s boyfriend. The boyfriend that got him stuck in hell for a thousand goddamn years.

“Why would he make my house?” Kate asks.

Adam is leaning in the doorway, catching his breath. “It’s familiar to all of us,” he explains. “It’s where he and I hung out the most in—and Ghoul obviously—you know.”

And there’s the other problem.

Kate doesn’t remember dying that well. It was quick for her, in the end. Sure, she remembers being hunted in her own house; remembers the scratching in the walls and the thumping from the vents; remembers something grabbing at her ankle and pulling from under her bed. But after that, it’s pretty much nothingness. For her, being eaten alive was quick and messy. According at Adam, at least; he never saw the crime scene, he says, but he does have a first person account from the thing that ate her. Because he’s dating that thing too.

Ghoul didn’t give Adam the same courtesy of a quick death; his was long and violent, because he was John’s blood and not just a one night stand from almost twenty years before. And yet somehow, somehow, Adam doesn’t hold the hours of screaming and bleeding against him.

Is it her fault? Did she neglect him so much during his childhood that he resorted to latching on to monsters who hurt him? If she spends more time with him now, can she get him to see that he doesn’t need to be with them just because they have some sort of twisted connection?

Does she even have the right to speak against them, now that Adam is older than her by hundreds of years?

Who knows. All Kate knows is that she, for some reason, agreed to meet them. To have dinner with them.

She’s probably going to regret this.

“I got him to make our house. Like, on earth. So you can see what life is like for us!” Adam beams at her, and it’s hard to pretend to match his enthusiasm.

“I’m excited to see your house, baby,” she tells him, only sort of lying.

“Michael and Ghoul are super excited to meet you too.”

“Are they?”

Adam laughs. “Not really. They’re nervous I think. I mean, Ghoul didn’t get to know his dad until recently so he’s pretty sure he’s gonna mess this up, and you know Michael’s dad killed him so. Parents are weird for him.”

Ah, yes. The Ghoul that John killed is also in Heaven. And Michael’s dad is God. Like, The God. Well, not anymore. These days, The God is the devil’s kid. Apparently.

“Well,” she says. “We’ll see how they do.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

Oh, she won’t. Her hopes are all the way in hell at this point.

Because this is Heaven and spatial physics are nothing to literal angels like the one Adam is dating, Adam only has to lead her a few paces down the driveway before she spots a house across the road that wasn’t there before. It’s small, smaller than her house, but it seems—homey, at least.

“We live in Maryland for my school,” Adam says as they cross the road. “Michael actually created this house for us there too ‘cause we wanted something kinda further from town. Ghoul and I had an apartment in Minnesota while Michael was dead but it wasn’t big enough for three people anyway.”

He says it so casually. While Michael was dead. Like it’s normal to come back from the dead.

But after everything he’s told her about his life, maybe it is normal. He’s done it twice, so what does Kate know?

At the door, Adam stops. Turns. Shuffles his feet.

“What is it?” Kate asks immediately. Is he having doubts about dinner? Is he having doubts about his relationship?

“Michael and Ghoul are really important to me,” he starts.

Damn.

“I’m honestly not expecting this to go well at all because neither of them make a good first impression but... maybe keep an open mind?”

“My mind is already wide open, Adam,” Kate deadpans.

“That’s fair.” He huffs a laugh. “Okay, yeah. We should probably—if I take too long Michael will think I’ve run off with Gabriel again.”

Gabriel, also an archangel. Because Adam is friends with other angels, too.

The inside of Adam’s house—or its heaven recreation—is nothing like she’d expect from him. They weren’t minimalists when Kate was alive by any means, but there are a lot of trinkets and paintings and little things scattered about. None of the walls have any clear space, the couch in the living room is little more than a heap of blankets and pillows, and beside a window decorated with hanging bits of stained glass in the shape of a butterfly is whole bookshelf filled with everything except books.  

One shelf is just little angel figurines, which maybe they think is funny? One is just rocks in shapes and colors she’s never seen on earth or in Heaven before which actually checks out with what Adam told her about Michael’s proclivity for showing off the planets he helped create. One shelf has a dozen framed photographs crammed together so tightly that she can’t even see them all, but the ones she can all feature at least one Adam.

On the other side of the window, there’s also a bookshelf being used for its intended purpose and overflowing with books, some small and some massive and very few that Kate recognizes. Those on the top shelf all have thick, weathered spines gilded in gold lettering that maybe isn’t actually lettering. Since she died, Adam’s become quite the linguist; he says he’s fluent in the language of angels now. Which is not something she’d ever expected for him, or anyone really.

It’s the house of a well traveled family, which makes her happy, but then she sees two real-life Adams who are not her son and the happiness fades.

“Hey guys,” Adam says. He stays by Kate’s side instead of joining either of them, for which she’s grateful. “This is my mom. Mom, this is Michael—“ He points to one with a flat sort of frown. “—and Ghoul.” The other one is grinning in a way that perfectly mirrors Adam’s, which Kate does not like.

They’re all wearing different clothes, but Kate immediately forgets who is who. “How do you tell them apart?” she asks, before cringing at the realization that she sounds like she’s talking about two cats that look the same instead of two potentially very dangerous beings.

“Everyone always asks that,” Adam laughs. “I know we have the same face, but I really think we look nothing alike.”

Kate thinks if Adam and—Ghoul?—swapped places enough times she wouldn’t know who was her son and who was the creature. They really are all identical.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Milligan,” the one she thinks is Michael says. “Was the journey okay?”

Kate blinks. It was like, five feet from her front door. Of course the journey was okay.

“It was like, five feet from her front door.” Adam says, exasperated but smiling. “Of course it was okay.”

“I’m just trying to be polite,” Michael grumbles. “You’re the one who told me not to be rude.”

“And I really appreciate it,” Adam says. At that, Michael’s frown melts into a little smile that takes a decade or maybe an eternity off his face; he looks young in a way a primordial being should not.

“You can call me Kate,” she tells him, because she can be polite too. And there’s something not right about an archangel calling her Miss anything.

“Kate,” Michael echoes. He turns the soft smile onto her and she doesn’t know how Adam handles it. There’s too much in his eyes.

Then the other one steps forward. “Great to see you again Kate,” Ghoul says. “Big fan of your work. Sorry about the—“ He mimes grabbing and pulling and biting. “You know how revenge is.”

Actually, she doesn’t, but she might soon.

“If it’s any consolation, your liver was exquisite. Best I’ve ever had; you really took care of your body!”

Adam rolls his eyes fondly—fondly!—and says, “I told you not to bring that up.”

Ghoul shrugs. “Just thought I’d mention the elephant in the room before it got any bigger.”

Kate can’t do much but try to smile back awkwardly. This is weird. Too weird. She almost wants to pinch herself to make sure it’s not some weird fever dream, but what is Heaven if not the biggest fever dream? Anyway, she’s already pinched herself plenty of times since Adam first broached the subject of his love life. It’s all too real.

“Should we eat?” she suggests. The sooner they eat, the sooner she can leave.

As Adam leads them all into the kitchen, Kate catches sight of a—a few bones and a skull? just sitting on a small table at the end of the hallway. They vanish a split second after she sees them, and when she turns her gaze it’s to the sight of Michael averting his.

It turns out that Adam made baked ziti, the one real meal she’d taught him when he was a teenager. It warms her up a little to think of him sharing her recipe with his family.

Except Michael doesn’t take a plate because “angels don’t eat,” which he explains almost sheepishly, and Ghoul has his own bowl of—something. Something that Kate does not want to look at too closely.

So it’s horribly awkward as they eat. Adam compliments his own cooking, because of course he does, and Kate also compliments his cooking, because of course she does. Michael at least comments that it looks good, and Ghoul holds his (full!) mouth open until Adam feeds him a bite.

“It’s fine,” he says, chewing thoughtfully, “but my stuff is better.”

Kate shoves a massive forkful into her mouth to stop herself from asking about what his stuff really is.

Conversation doesn’t really flow either, which is maybe due in part to the fact that Kate never has an empty mouth for more than a few seconds at a time, but what is she supposed to say?


With Kristin, they’d talked about college and careers and school stuff. Little things that Kate could relate to. How can she relate to anything about the lives of two monsters?

There are customs for meeting your kid’s partners, right? The shovel talk, or whatever. She never had to give Kristin the shovel talk because Kristin was kind and funny and like, sixteen years old.

Something in Kate’s gut tells her it’s maybe not a good idea to threaten an archangel and a thing that already killed her, plus the whole ‘hurt him and I’ll hurt you’ thing is a moot point by now, so she avoids that conversation. But she can still ask, “What are your intentions with my son?” so she swallows her mouthful and does just that.

With lightning fast reflexes, Adam reaches out to clamp a hand over Ghoul’s mouth that was just beginning to open.

Kate does not want to know.

“My intentions?” Michael asks, the picture of grave seriousness. “All I want is to love and cherish him as I have done for many centuries now. Your son saved me, Kate, so I will do everything within my abilities to make him happy.”

Cute sentiment, really, and Kate does enjoy the way Adam’s face burns a bright red, but Michael kinda ruined it by bringing up the centuries and the saving. Her baby shouldn’t have to save anyone except in a hospital setting. And he definitely shouldn’t have been alive for centuries. A century, maybe, but that’s it. 
“And how do you plan on doing that?” she asks.

“I will do whatever he asks of me,” Michael answers. “I even let him keep the Ghoul.”

Kate opens her mouth to say something along the lines of, “I don’t think that’s a good thing,” but Adam cuts her off.

“Michael helped with all my paperwork,” he says, wrenching his hand off of Ghoul’s mouth and wiping it on his pants. The motion leaves behind a smear of blood, but his skin is unbroken. Kate tries even harder to avoid eye contact with Ghoul’s bowl. “We were both declared missing and then I missed a decade, so he’s the reason I even got into school again.”

It’s like he can’t even hear himself. “And why were we missing, Adam?” she asks, unable to help it. “Why did you miss a decade?”

Everyone shifts uncomfortably.

“I mean—“ Adam starts, but he doesn’t finish his thought. It’s his turn to take a too-big bite of ziti.

“I assure you, I will spend the rest of my life making up for what I did to him,” Michael says.

“Right.” Kate wipes her mouth. “What about you, Ghoul? You never got to answer my question.”

“My intentions?” Ghoul giggles, strained and high pitched. “Um, same as Michael. Love and cherish him or whatever. Make up for killing him. Rock his—“

“Okay!” Adam interrupts. “See, mom? They feel bad. So. We’re all good here.”

Sure. They feel bad.

“And don’t you think they’re cute?” Adam continues, which.

Yeah, they are cute, but only surface-level cute and only because Adam is cute.

“Wait, I know how to win her over,” Ghoul smirks. “Remember when you were a kid and got her to buy you candy?”

And then he pulls the exact same face—puppy-dog eyes and all. It is incredibly cute, but again, less so with the knowledge that he only knows how to do that because he has Adam’s memories. Which he got from eating him.

But Adam laughs at Ghoul, and even Michael twitches with an amused smile.

“He still makes that face,” Michael tells Kate hesitantly. “As if he needs to beg for anything.”

“No, come on, you can be stubborn!” Adam’s grinning again. “Just the other day I wanted to stop at that diner and you said no!”

“Because you should eat better,” Michael says. He sounds like he’s scolding Adam, and Kate doesn’t know what to think of that. “You’re going to be a doctor, you know. You really should eat a vegetable sometimes.”

“He took us anyway,” Adam whispers, winking at Kate. “I guess the face does come in handy.”

Ghoul chimes in after that with his own rowdy anecdote of a time when they had to beg Michael for something. In this story, it’s taking them back in time to see a certain concert. Apparently, Michael didn’t want to upset Jack—the devil’s son, now God, also his nephew—but still caved.

Kate lets them tell their little stories. The smile doesn’t fall from Adam’s face for the rest of the dinner.

She has to hand it to him; her son knows how to move on. When John first entered their lives and did not act the way a father should, she’d seen it in Adam—the inability to forgive. And as the years went by, she saw that inability grow into resentment and then into something like hate.

The hate is still there, even, especially when he talks about Sam and Dean, John’s other kids that Kate knew nothing about until she was dead.

For human slights, like with John, it seems that Adam has no interest in forgiving. Sam and Dean did more than just skip the holidays with him, she knows that, but even Adam’s hatred for them is something very human. It’s why his relationship still has her so perplexed; he can’t forgive blood, but he can choose these two guys?

But the way he laughs. The way he lights up.

Kate can’t forgive Michael or Ghoul. Most likely, she’ll never get over what they did to her baby.

Adam is stronger than her. She’ll let him have his happiness as long as possible, and when it crumbles—because there’s no way it can’t, like when a kid thinks a feral cat can be his friend but it still ends up swiping at him—she’ll be there to pick up the pieces. Just as she disinfected the scratches and pressed superhero band-aids and kisses over his wounds back then, she’ll keep him safe as he pulls himself back together for what will likely be the hundredth time.

Until then, though—he can play happy.

Once the food is gone and plates are cleared, the three of them seem to just fall into each other. Ghoul leans against Adam who leans against Michael and they’re all a bit hesitant, still, but it’s obvious they’re just going off of muscle memory and Kate can’t stick around and keep watching. She can’t.

“What did you think?” Adam asks as he walks her home.

Instead of answering with words, Kate offers a grimacing little smile that he seems to understand.

“Okay, yeah, I thought so.” The enthusiasm he exuded for a minute there has faded into resignation. “You’ll just have to come see us more,” he says, more confidently. “We can keep the house up.”

“You’re sure these are the guys for you? I’ve met some very nice men and women here and I’m sure there are plenty more who are still alive—“

“Mom.”

“This just isn’t what I wanted for you,” she sighs. “It’s not normal, baby. They hurt you. They killed you. I don’t understand how…”

“They also love me.” His voice softens. “And I love them, and they’re right for me. You’ll get it someday.”

Probably not. Probably, she won’t even try, because someone has to see reason.

“Maybe,” she says, and they both know she’s lying.

Her house is dark. It’s never seemed so empty; Heaven brings life to even the lifeless. But now there’s no Adam making her breakfast in the mid-afternoon morning and all the pictures are a thousand years old for him and—something she’s never considered before—they’re probably weird to him, knowing that it’s only ever him.

They bid each other goodnight, Kate holding on to Adam maybe too tightly and for too long as they hug, and then he’s off into the night, heading back to the monsters she has no way to protect him from. 

Kate has to step into her dark, empty house all alone.

[itsallyscorner]

Hello. Could I request a Chris Evans x reader, where they have a little girl and she finds out that peple kiss under the mistletoe. So she's always running around the house with it playing matchmaker (obviously everyone is taller than her) and she's like: "Now you have to kiss."

This is the cutest request!! Omg🥺❤️ Thank you, hun! I hope you enjoy it🎄❤️

💌.

Under The Mistletoe

Major dad!Chris

(Gif from @cevanscentral )

Ever since Chris had hung the mistletoe up in the living room’s doorway, it had always caught the curious eyes of your sweet Audrey. Your daughter, like her father, was always full of wonder and anticipated to learn new things. She was always curious about her surroundings and had a never ending amount of questions.

Lately, the mistletoe had been the subject of her thoughts. She would wonder what the purpose of the mistletoe was and why it was hung in the living room doorway instead of the tree. Sometimes the little girl would find herself standing underneath the mistletoe, staring up at it as she tried to come up with some kind of reason as to why it were there.

One day, Chris had found his daughter standing underneath the mistletoe, her big blue eyes sparkling from the lights of the Christmas tree a few feet away from her. A classic Christmas cartoon played on the tv, though it was long forgotten by Audrey.

“Hey jellybean, watcha up to?” He crouched beside his daughter as he followed her line of sight.

“It’s a mistletoe, bean. It comes out during the holidays and whoever is underneath the mistletoe gets a kiss.” He explained to her as he gathered her into his arms. He stood up, resting Audrey on his hip so she could touch the festive plant.

“Do they really need to be kissed?” She continued to quiz her dad.

“Do they really need to be kissed?” She continued to quiz her dad.

“Of course they need to be kissed! It would be a crime if someone doesn’t get kissed underneath the mistletoe!” Chris claimed causing the eyes of his daughter to widen. Suddenly, Audrey cups her dad’s face and presses a giant kiss onto his cheek.

“I can’t go to jail, dada! I’m too young!” His daughter says, a hint of fear in her voice. Chris lets out a heartfelt laugh at his daughter’s reaction. His other hand comes to land on his left pec as he continued to laugh.

You walk out of the laundry room, having just finished throwing in the wet clothes into the dryer.

“Mama!” You heard Audrey whine. You rush to where her voice came from, which was the living room. You enter the room to see Chris red in the face as he tried to stifle his laughs.

“What did you do?” You eyed the two loves of your life. A pout is on Audrey’s lips, her brows softly furrowed together.

“Mama, dada keeps laughing at me!” She wiggles her way out of her dad’s arms and crashes into your legs. Her face was tucked into your thigh in embarrassment.

“And why’s that, babe?” You ask her, running you hands in soothing circles on her back.

“Dada said that if you don’t give kisses under the mistletoe, you go to jail! So I kissed dada’s cheek and he laughed!” An adorable little pout was set on her lips, her arms crossed. You give a look towards Chris, who was now silently laughing in the corner.

“Babe, why’d you laugh at her?” You asked your husband, finding the situation slightly amusing. Knowing your husband, he had probably teased your little girl to the point where she grew upset at him.

“She literally said, ‘I can’t go to jail, I’m too young!’ And proceeds to just press kisses onto my face.” Chris explains through his laughter. A hint of a smile is on your lips, shaking your head at your husband. Crouching down to your daughter’s height you told her, “Don’t listen to half the things your dad tells you, he’s messing with you, bean. You’re not going to go to jail if you don’t kiss anyone under the mistletoe.”

Chris had calmed down and sat beside you on the floor. You daughter glares at him causing him to snort. You roll your eyes before nudging your husband’s shoulder.

“C’mon, babe. It’s funny, our daughter’s a comedian.” Chris sees the smile hinting at your lips, trying to get you to crack.

“Shut up.” You whisper to him through gritted teeth. “Now apologize, you dork.”

Chris tries to recollect himself before looking at Audrey seriously, “Jellybean, I am so sorry for laughing at you and tricking you. It hurt your feelings and I’m sorry.”

Audrey sighs before pressing a light peck on her dad’s forehead, “I forgive you.” Chris wraps his giant arms around your daughter and pulls her into a hug.

Over her shoulder, the goofy look comes back onto his face as he mouths, “So gullible.”

You quietly chuckle as your daughter pulls away from the hug. She turns back to you and a smile is on her face.

“Mama, can I have my own mistletoe?” She asks you, looking at you with those puppy eyes.

“What’s the harm?” You thought to yourself. It was just a plant and she would probably use it on her dolls or stuffed animals. She’ll probably forget about it in a few days.

“Course you can, I’m sure daddy has some leftover decorations in the garage. He might have another mistletoe.” You shrugged as she happily jumped around.

Boy were you wrong.

The mistletoe had become a hit with your daughter. To her, it was her most prized possession. She held onto the mistletoe everywhere she went and used it to her advantage. When she wanted kisses, she would ask one of you to carry her and she would hold the mistletoe to the best of her abilities above your heads. She even taught Dodger that when the mistletoe was above him, it meant a kiss on the cheek for Audrey. Or a lick to the face in Dodger’s eyes. You and Chris enjoyed the fact that something so simple could bring your daughter so much joy. Compared to the dolls and stuffed animals she had, nothing compared to the mistletoe.

Audrey had pride in her mistletoe and showed it off to everyone who entered the house. She made it her own mission to spread more love in the house by making everyone kiss each other with the mistletoe.

This year, Christmas Eve was being held at your household. Chris had suggested it since your shared home was bigger than the other’s houses. Because there were many additional rooms, his siblings and their kids would be able to stay the night for Christmas Day.

The house was full of chatter and Christmas energy. All the kids were running around from room to room as the adults yelled after them to be careful. Dodger was hanging out under the dining room table, taking a break from the energetic kids. The dining room table was full of food, Lisa had arrived at the house earlier in the day to get a headstart on the cooking. Together, the two of you had filled the table with multiple dishes and an assortment of sweets.

You were sat on the couch talking with Carly and Shanna, catching up with each other’s lives. Scott was with Chris, along with his new boyfriend, who was celebrating Christmas with the family this year.

You and Carly were talking about your kids. You had just mentioned the little mistletoe incident that happened a week ago with Audrey and Chris. “Is that why she’s been carrying that mistletoe around?” Carly asked as she motioned to your little girl. She was running around with her cousins, her styled hair now messy, dress sleeves falling past her shoulders, and the mistletoe still enveloped in her hand.

“Honestly, I didn’t know she would grow such an attachment to it. I thought she was going to get over it in a few days and jump on some new craze.” You laughed sipping on your wine.

“I think it’s cute!” Shanna chimed from beside you. The boys had moved into the living room after standing in the dining room. Chris shot you a wink from across the room as he talked to Carly’s husband.

Scott and his boyfriend approached the three of you, a toothy grin on both their faces.

“What are you girls gossipin’ about?” Scott presses a kiss to your cheek and pulls you into a tight hug.

“Oh yeah! This is Steve!” Scott motions to the man beside him who shyly waves at you. “Steve this is (y/n), my sister in law. (Y/n) this is Steve, my boyfriend!”

Instead of going in for a shake, you pulled Steve into a hug, “It’s nice to meet you! We’re glad to have you over for Christmas!” The Evans were really rubbing off on you.

“Likewise, thank you for having me!” Steve hugs you back. The two men sit on the rug as you all fall into a conversation. A half hour in and Audrey comes running into the living room. Her bright eyes spot her uncle Scott, as excitement bubbles in her stomach.

“Uncle Scott!” She runs up to him and wraps her short arms around his neck. Scott chuckles as he hugs his niece back.

“Uncle Scotty, look what I have!” Audrey holds the mistletoe up in pride. Scott’s mouth gaps as he sees the plant.

“Is that a mistletoe!” He moves the plant closer so that he’s getting a better look. What Scott doesn’t notice is that he’s moved the mistletoe directly above him and Steve.

“Yeah and look uncle Scott! You guys are under it!” She excitedly cheers. You see Scott and Steve both blush, you’re about to protest when Chris calls for his brother across the room.

“Scott, you know what that means!” Chris teases his younger brother from across the room.

With the encouragement from her father, Audrey says, “Now you have to kiss!”

Scott turns to Steve with a smile, “It’s a mistletoe, I don’t make the rules.” Steve agrees and the two share a peck on the lips. Everyone at the house cheers when they pull away. Satisfied, Audrey giggles at her work.

“Okay, little miss matchmaker. Back to your cousins, the adults are talking.” Scott teases Audrey as he nudges her back to the other kids.

“That’s my girl! Doin’ god’s work!” Chris cheers in pride as his daughter skips out the room. The holidays were about family and seeing his brother so happy made him happy. Without the help of your little girl, Scott probably would’ve never made the first move on Steve. It was a holiday miracle, thanks to that mistletoe.

[scandalsavagefanfic]

Hello! I am a huge fan of ur writing. I've loved everything I've read of yours. I've read alot of what you've posted, except for a couple of the tags that are squicky for me (so I'm very thankful you tag very thoroughly). No judgement for the squick, it's just not for me. & when I'm having a bad day, I usually just go thru ur ao3 and find something to reread. I think about Therapy's Bruce & Jason every damn day. While I obvs appreciate ur darker more "problematic" content (I really vibe with some of the themes you write about bc of my own trauma, & so it's very cathartic to read about in a fictional setting), I am truly a sucker for ur more happy content. The Happily Ever After verse also lives in my head rent free. Idk more wholesome stuff just seems more special when you write it. Anyways. I would die for you. But the point of this ask is cause I'm curious as to why you don't like Urban Legends? I'm sorry if you already talked about it here or on twitter and I missed it. I was just wondering because I really enjoy your take on things and would love to hear why you dislike it. I've been enjoying it so far personally, but I am always open to DC comics criticism.

Aw thank you so much! I'm so flattered by everything you just said. You're so sweet ❤❤❤❤❤

I haven't talked about Urban Legends here or twitter (I haven't been very active in either place lately. Just a lot going on and no energy 😔) but I'm happy to do it here.

Before I start though, I just want to add a standard disclaimer and make it clear that if you like it, there's nothing wrong with that and you don't have to let me ruin it for you lol. Like what you like.

That said, since you asked...

I said this when I was talking about it on discord, that there is a difference between hope and expectation. I always hope that a new story centered on Jason (or anyone really, but things have been especially egregious for Jay for 15 years) will be good or at least treat the character with a minimal level of respect (to be honest, the bar is super fucking low). But my expectations always temper my hope, to keep it from getting unrealistic. Because my expectations are based on experience.

The long history of Jason Todd, since even before his resurrection, has been one of retroactively trying to make him "a bad seed" in order to absolve Bruce of any responsibility in his death.

I don't even expect DC or their writers to start honoring the fact that Jason was not an angry, reckless Robin (and less of the later than Dick or Tim and definitely Damian). There plenty of ways that retcon can be folded into his history and be compelling and sympathetic. And if they're going to stick with that retcon, I'm only asking that they do it in one of those compelling and sympathetic ways because Jason was 15 when he died, heroically, in one of the most selfless acts in comics, to save a woman who literally handed him over to be brutally murdered. He was 12 when Bruce plucked him off the streets, he'd been homeless and fending for himself for at least two years. I personally think that Jason's story hits harder for him and Bruce if their original, canon relationship, of Jason as starry-eyed and eager to learn and absolutely devoted to Bruce and Bruce to Jason, is preserved. But Jason's origins does leave room for a meaningful interpretation of him as angry and frustrated at the lack of meaningful results of Bruce's methods.

And that's really where my irritation at stories like Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer and Batman The Adventure Continues has it's roots.

Every time one of these stories comes out, I think (or hope, rather) that this will be the one that remembers and respects the origins of the Jason and the Red Hood, that takes into account the changed sensibilities of comics readers in the 30 years since Jason's death and the subtle, 20 year, retroactive campaign to make him the "bad Robin". The "born bad" trope is played out and literally no one likes the message it implies. That some kids are just bad eggs and there's nothing parents or the adults around them can do. Especially when it's played as the kid's fault. If Jason's time as Robin is going to be characterized by anger, then it should be rooted in anger at the social injustices he witnessed as he grew up in an impoverished, crime-ridden, area and the horrors he faced raising himself when every day was a battle for survival. There are topical, meaningful, stories to tell with that backdrop.

But those are never the stories we get.

⚠⚠ Spoilers for Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer ⚠⚠

I'm particularly disappointed in Urban Legends because for the first issue, it looked like that was the kind of story we were going to get. I was put off by the first flashback of Jason being mesmerized by Bruce's guns, and I got that feeling in my gut that it was a bad sign. Jason depicted as impatient and overconfident and the scene with the guns is heavy-handed foreshadowing that got my spidey-sense tingling. I had a inkling then (in the first three pages) of how this story was going to play out, but it was early and I could still see many narrative paths that could lead to a satisfying story. My concerns were soothed somewhat and the little flame of my hope fanned, with the flashback of Alfred scolding Bruce, with Barbara's concern for Jason. A bit of worry returned with the way Jason ruthlessly pursued an addict who didn't appear to be a dealer and with the ending of the issue. The stuff with the addict sat wrong with me but the ending was tempered some by how despicable Tyler's dad was written. The scene was clearly set so that the reader could sympathize with Jason's decision and the scene with the addict could be brushed aside as a side-effect of comics over-the-top need for constant action, so I still held hope.

Issue 2 made me uncomfortable and it's where my hope starts to take a backseat to my expectations. I can dismiss Jason's self-deprecating internal monologue as unreliable narration, except that the flashback reinforces his thought process to explicitly show that it's not unreliable narration, and should be taken at face value. Jason faces physical abuse at the hands of his mother's drug dealer and when the flashback continues later, Jason kills the drug dealer. To be clear, this is a pre-Bruce Jason. His mom is still alive. He's like... 10. He kills this guy for shoving his head into a wall and implying Jason's mother paid for her drugs with sex. This is a scene that serves a single purpose. To show that Jason has always been prone to violence.

In the spirit of full disclosure, there is the small chance the drug dealer might not be dead. But the story obviously wants the reader to think he is, and it hasn't done anything to change that yet.

Starlin already did this story with The Diplomat’s Son in 1988 and he did it infinitely better. AND that’s still technically canon. So now I’m supposed to believe that Jason lost his cool bad enough to kill two douche bags before his sweet 16? Like it’s totally normal for abused kids raised in poverty, who’ve led hard and heartbreaking lives to just... haul off and kill people? That’s bullshit, and when taken with the Jason in the third issue, who is little more than an idiot thug, this story is really doubling down on some fucked up stereotypes.

Which brings us to the most recent issue. I went into this installment with very low expectations. I thought this story was going to be about Jason, through this experience with Tyler, a young boy with a similar background to Jason's, coming to the realization that Bruce's way is the best way and that Bruce did his best by Jason.

That would be annoying (in no small part because it takes increasingly absurd levels of plot armor to keep Bruce's no kill rule relevant, let alone irrefutably right). But I can probably live with that, if only because maybe if Jason officially falls back into line with the Bats crusade, maybe I'll get stories that treat him with respect, stories that don't relegate him to comic relief, dumb brute, or a background body with no lines in a story about the Joker burning Gotham (like Jason would just fucking stand there quietly for that).

And that may still be where the story is going, Jason realizing Bruce is right.

But holy shit do I not have the right words to describe how fucking insulting and gross issue three is.

From start to finish--including the flashback--Jason is written as cruel and fucking stupid. Like straight up dumb.

The entire issue is Bruce explaining the fucking basics to Jason like it's his first day. And Jason flies off the fucking handle and terrorizes a doctor he knows isn't a part of making the Cheerdrops, beats the shit out of some random addicts, and finally, when he can't accomplish anything on his own because he's a dumb brute he calls Barbara for help and rushes in with no information where he's promptly incapacitated and must now wait to be rescued by Batman.

This panel is the least of the issues sins but I can’t screenshot the entire story but it’s representative of the tone for the whole issue (and retroactively tainted the prior two issues).

This is beyond insulting. The only conclusions Jason comes to in this issue are the ones Bruce leads him to by talking to him like he can’t make the simplest connections. And like... in this story Jason can’t make the simplest connections.

This (and the Jason throughout the entirety of this issue) is a far cry from the Jason we fell in love with in Under the Red Hood, who was competent and strategic and intelligent enough to seize control of Gotham’s underworld from Black Mask (who’s no fucking slouch, he’s the first and only person to unify organized crime in Gotham) AND elude and manipulate Bruce until the time and place of his choosing.

This is a far cry from even the Red Hood and the Outlaws Jason who is competent enough to fight the League of Shadows and Ra’s al Ghul (among very dangerous and skilled others) and smart enough to create antidotes for mind control nanotech viruses.

As he should be, by the way. Jason Todd is one of the best, most comprehensively trained fighters in DC’s stable of non powered vigilantes. He’s not irrational or hot headed. He’s pragmatic, tactically minded, and patient. He’s a detective. Right now. Has been since he was 12. Bruce doesn’t have to make him one because he already is. 

Jason is not a stupid thug who uses his fists because his brain doesn’t work. And I can’t tell you how so very exhausted I am by this narrative. 

This is actually the most egregious example of Jason’s skills and intelligence being not just undermined but dismissed entirely. Even Morrison’s Jason had some degree of competency. 

The one, single redeeming factor of this story is the art. It’s beautiful. And Marcus To is a godsend he seems to be one of only a couple of artists who remember that Jason was a child when he was Robin and I’m literally only buying this book because of him. 

Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to come out so... um... passionately lol. I’m just very very tired. My intention with this isn’t to ruin it for you, if you like it, that’s fine. 

But this issue shot this story to the top of my "Vehemently Despise” list. 1) Batman: Urban Legends (Cheer), 2) Battle for the Cowl/Morrison’s Batman and Robin, 3) Batman The Adventure Continues.

I hope the next issues somehow salvage this dumpster fire. But I’m not expecting it.

(Damnit. That sounded harsh again. To reiterate, I’m not trying to judge anyone who enjoys it, I just personally hate it and you asked me why lol 😅)

[ellewriteswrongs]

picking favorites (a @tsbandau drabble)

if y’all aren’t emotionally invested in @underdog-arts ‘s band au, idk what y’all are even doing /j

anyway, here’s a wholesome family drabble insp. by the band au and my (not-so) subtle obsession with remus and janus. also subbing to their patreon is the best $5 i’ve probably ever spent, no joke

“Honey, you can still pick up Ry, right?” Janus called down the hallway, carrying a basket of laundry on each hip before depositing them in the hallway to put away later. Remus was seated in their shared office catching up on emails as Janus began packing up leftover pasta into containers to take to their show scheduled that night. 

“I told you I got ‘em,” he agreed, banging the last clumps of his protein shake into his mouth with the heel of his hand. “I’m gonna’ jog to V’s and grab the van.”

Janus nodded to themself out of instinct before faltering, their brow furrowing. 

“Wait—Re, that’s like three miles,” they challenged, dumping the dirtied dishes into the sink. “Just take the fucking car.”

Remus’ snort laugh was audible from down the hallway. 

“They asked for the van!” Remus cackled. “And I, for one, do not disappoint. Apparently making my kid’s friends think they’re cool is worth a three-mile jog.”

Janus rolled their eyes, albeit fondly. This was, unfortunately, not news. 

Riley was having an…interesting phase. It wouldn’t be abnormal for kids their age if it weren’t for the fact that their parents were ridiculously competitive, and all of their parents’ friends were eager to get in on it. 

As soon as Remus attended career day in Riley’s first grade classroom, resulting in the entire class of six-year-olds marveling at the fact that their friend’s dad was a “rock star.”

Janus loved that conversation over dinner that night. 

They weren’t jealous. No, in fact, it was probably overdue for Riley to have a bit of a “Daddy’s kid” phase, considering how joined at the hip they were with Janus for multiple years now. But they wanted to win. 

Riley could make their own decisions about picking a favorite parent. As long as that decision was Janus. 

“You’ve gone so-oft,” they sing-songed, smirking as Remus appeared in the kitchen behind them, wrapping one hand around their hip and pressing a kiss to their temple. “Ry’s got you wrapped around their finger.”

Remus have a flash of his crooked grin. 

“Yeah, well…at least I know where they get that from.”

Janus rolled their eyes, trying to hide their reddening face. 

“Sap,” they grumbled fondly. “Hurry up and get on with your run before you’re late to pickup. And tell V I said hey.”

Remus gave an exasperated chuckle and affirmation, but pocketed his keys and wallet nonetheless. 

The jog to Virgil’s apartment wasn’t a particularly strenuous three miles, being downtown and all, and Remus was far from out of shape. Still, three miles was three miles—especially in the late afternoon sun. Needless to say, Virgil wasn’t thrilled to have a giant sweaty man on his doorstep, but he handed over the keys nonetheless. 

The van was old, still clinging to its axels from when Remus himself purchased it from an old neighbor and declared it the band’s “tour bus.” It was nice enough at the time, especially for the price he paid, but it certainly wasn’t still around for anything more than sentimental value. 

Mainly just Remus refusing to get rid of it. 

That, and the fact that, for whatever reason, Riley thought it was the coolest thing ever. 

The drive wasn’t long, only the sitting in traffic of other parents in minivans trying to get into the school parking lot. He…wasn’t a fan of that part of being a parent, that’s for sure. He could do without any other parents, thank you very much, but at least it was fun to see how obvious all of them were in their distaste of both him and Janus, compared to how much their kid absolutely adored them. 

A fact that was only proven when Remus eventually made it to the parking lot and exited his van, only to be met with ear-splitting squeal of “daddy!” and an armful of six-year-old. 

He can’t deny how, even after all these years, the title still makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Like…he is a dad. That’s his kid! How fucking rad is that!

He happens to spot a few other parents, along with some of Riley’s friends that he recognizes, and he offers a quick wave with the hand that isn’t mussing up his kid’s hair. 

“You brought the van,” Riley points out with a toothy grin that Remus can’t help mirroring. He can’t help the knot in his throat when he spots the gap in their teeth from their first ever lost tooth—which only meant they were getting much too old and Remus would really appreciate it if they would slow the fuck down.

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” Riley nods, bouncing on Remus’ hip just a bit out of excitement. “I gotta’ warn you though, JJ’s getting pretty jealous.”

Riley laughs before sticking out their tongue and making a fart noise in Remus’s face. 

Remus is, for the thousandth time, bewildered at how Riley couldn’t possibly be more like Janus if they tried. And mostly smitten. He has the coolest kid on Earth, after all. 

“They can suck my butt!” Riley squeals and Jesus Christ, Remus is going to have a heart attack right there in the parking lot. He’s gonna’ have to grill Jan again to make sure those two aren’t secretly biologically related. 

“Hey, your words not mine, squirt,” he smirks, opening the van door and strapping them into the car seat. “And your early bedtime if you let JJ hear any of that.”

He finishes with a pinch on their nose before closing the van door and getting back in the driver’s seat. 

Riley, as soon as the radio turn on, starts protesting very aggressively to listen to “your songs, daddy! Play your songs!” 

Thankfully, he has a CD burned with some of their…cleaner songs for that exact purpose. 

Riley, for lack of a better word, was ‘singing’ along at a volume that Remus would’ve otherwise found hilarious and impressive if it wasn’t right in his ear. Still, there was a certain fondness that came with watching his kid’s excitement over his work—something that, as usual, was paired with thrashing within the confines of a car seat and headbanging their little heart out. 

Along the drive Remus made every attempt to stop the barrage of the screamo singer in the making, but all were ultimately unsuccessful. At least…until he pointed out one particular building out of a strip mall assortment. 

“Hey, you see that store right there? The one with the red sign?” He spoke up, catching Riley’s eager attention in an instant. They placed both hands on the van window to look out. 

“What is it?” They asked, squinting to try and read what was on the sign. 

“You know the snake on my leg?” Riley nodded, quieting down. “That’s where JJ took me to get it.”

They paused, seemingly putting some pieces together in their head.

“How come you only have one?” They asked, still kicking their legs against their seat. “JJ has lots, how come you don’t have lots too?”

Remus chuckled, continuing along the road as the light turned green. 

“‘Cause I don’t need another one. They’re very expensive, you know.”

“Is it ‘cause you’re a wimp?” 

Remus choked on his own spit. 

“N-no,” he choked out, laughing. “No I’m not, I just think it looks better this way.”

He didn’t bother looking into the backseat to see what Riley thought of that answer, but if the return to karaoke that followed was any indication, they were not impressed. Still, he’d probably take the teasing over the screaming, but kids are kids. 

Even as they pulled into their driveway, Remus had to strategically dodge Riley’s flailing limbs in order to un-fasten the seatbelts on their car seat and actually get them in the house. Apparently the music was not as vital to the ‘sing-along’ as he’d hoped it was when he turned the car off. 

“Alright, alright, calm those legs down before you knock my teeth out, will ya’?” Remus teased, placing Riley on his shoulders where they instantly took fistfuls of his hair to hold on. Riley toned down the velocity, but otherwise did not stop. “Careful, squirt, if you wanna’ kick so bad, I’m signing you up to play soccer.”

Riley stopped almost instantaneously, gripping Remus’ hair even tighter as they headed back inside the house, Riley’s tiny backpack slung around Remus’ forearm. 

“Nooo,” they wailed, half punctuated by laughter that echoed through the house. 

“What are we complaining about?” Janus spoke, leaning against the doorway across the room with a fond smile. 

“He said if I kick him in the teeth I have to play soccer,” Riley whined, attempting to climb down from Remus’ shoulders on their own. Janus snorted a laugh before swiftly crossing the room to collect their child and place them on their hip. 

“Wow, your daddy’s so mean,” Janus agreed, raising a challenging eyebrow as they stood in front of their husband. Remus pouted before bending down to steal a kiss.

“Gross,” Riley giggled, pressing a hand on each of their parents’ faces to separate them. 

“Gross?” Janus smirked. “Well in that case, maybe your dad was being a bit unfair.”

Riley turned to Remus to stick out their tongue at him. 

“I mean, soccer? That’s just ridiculous,” Janus continued, a mischievous glint in their eyes. “We’ll obviously have to sign you up for football instead. A punt like that has got to be put to good use.”

Riley immediately went back to their dramatized complaining, this time reaching desperately for Remus to get him to take them back from Janus—to which Remus just held up his hands in mock innocence.

“No can do, kid,” he smirked. “The punishment has to fit the crime, after all.”

Riley continued their attempts to wiggle out of Janus’ unyielding grip.

“Never!” They declared, trying a different approach of reaching over Janus’ shoulder to escape from behind. “I won’t! I won’t do it, I promise!”

Remus and Janus both knew they wouldn’t actively try to hurt either of them, but sometimes it was just more fun to assert rules when it came with shrieking laughter and climbing their parents like a jungle gym.

“Well, now you know where we stand,” Remus spoke in false authority, reaching for one of Riley’s tiny shoes and holding it up to address it as if it were in control of their legs. “I better not see you around these parts again, ya’ hear?” He added in an over-the-top western accent, gesturing to his face. 

Riley squealed with laughter as he held out his hand for a handshake and they shook it with their accused foot. 

“Alright, alright, you two,” Janus intervened with fond exasperation. “Snacks are on the counter, take it or leave it.”

Riley whipped their head around to peer into the kitchen, cheering when they spotted two plates on the kitchen counter, each with a toaster waffle piled high with blueberries. 

“Second…breakfast!” They cheered, drumroll-ing on their leg before whooping and slinking out of Janus’ grip and climbing up onto the kitchen barstools. Remus, giving a fond eye-roll at the enthusiasm, turned to drape his arms over Janus’ shoulders from behind, perching his chin on top of their head. 

“They get it from you, you know,” he mumbled, smirking at the scoff it earned him. 

“Shut up,” Janus grumbled, the smile evident in their voice. “That is all you.”

“Babe, sports are a threat in this house,” he teased. “You’re telling me that came from me?”

“Yeah, I’ll take that one,” they chided, turning around to face their husband. “As long as you’re aware that the energy, the volume—honey, that’s all you.”

Remus quirked his brow with a proud smirk. 

“Or maybe it’s the fact that they sleep for fourteen hours and we haven’t even had eight in the last six years,” he challenged knowingly. “You know, I happen to remember that back in the day…that bed was hardly even for sleeping.”

Janus snorted, their face reddening slightly.

“Is it bad to think of those as the ‘good old days’ already?”

Remus swept a piece of their hair out of their face. 

“Hell no, dude. We lived like kings back then,” he chuckled. “How ‘bout this—I’ll get Ro to take ‘em to the park or something this weekend and I’ll dick you down just like old times, ‘kay?”

Janus sputtered out a cackle, smacking Remus on the chest before covering his mouth with their hand.

“Fucking christ, they’re like two yards away,” they hissed, still laughing. “I am not going to be the one fielding questions about what getting dicked down means, oh my god.”

“You say that like they listen to anything when there’s food in front of them,” Remus countered, nodding in the direction of their kid as Janus rolled their eyes with a chuckle. 

“Now that, is from you,” they grinned, jabbing him in the side with their elbow. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re serving up delicacies like toaster waffles,” Remus said, raising his hands in mock defense. 

Janus gave him a look before crossing their arms. 

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky I know you can’t go two hours without food. Go on, there’s one for you, even if it’s probably cold by now,” they teased as Remus excitedly kissed their forehead before practically running to the kitchen. He hopped up to sit on the counter, folding each toaster waffle like a blueberry-filled taco before funneling them into his mouth. 

Janus followed close behind—at a normal pace, thank you very much—and took the actual seat next to their kid, sipping at the cup of tea they had left on the counter before the two had returned home as they listened to Riley regaling their day at school.

———

Realistically, Remus probably should’ve seen it coming. He was a couple days past his previous record of days as Riley’s “favorite” and he knew he likely didn’t have much longer before Janus dethroned him again, but he certainly hadn’t expected the scene he walked in on that night. 

He had heard hushed laughter coming from one of their house’s bathrooms that evening, assuming at first that Janus was just handling Riley’s bath or something like that, but as he cleaned up the mess from their dinner and finished washing the rest of their dishes, he was surprised to find they were still in there. So obviously he had to investigate. 

He knocked on the door, rolling his eyes fondly as shushing and giggles came from within. 

“Everything good in there?” He teased, leaning against the door. “I gotta’ say, I’m a little hurt I didn’t get invited to whatever club this is that hangs out in the bathroom.”

More giggles followed by the oh-so familiar sound of Janus’ shushing. 

“I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself what all the fuss is about,” he sing-songed, slowly creaking open the door before letting out a snort laugh at the scene before him. 

Janus was seated on the edge of the bathtub, wash cloth in hand, as Riley sat on the sink counter, covered on all limbs with temporary tattoos. At least the pieces of tape that Janus had cut into circles and colored black to look like ear gauges were admittedly cute. 

“Oh, I see how it is,” he smirked from against the doorframe. 

“JJ said you’re a wimp,” Riley proudly announced. “I was right.”

Janus stuck their tongue out and made a spitting noise and…yeah, that was their kid alright. Not that Remus would have it any other way. 

[dork-empress]

Singing In The Dead Of Night Ch 2

Harley and Barman set up a playdate for their wards.

forgive the long post, i'll edit and clean it up when im home. chapter can also be found on my ao3, url in the description.

Harley made it back home, which was actually the manor of some billionaire who only really used the house for tax purposes. Harley had taken it over when Lucy came to live with her, deciding she needed more room, and they quickly changed it to suit their needs.

“Luuuucyyyy, I’m hooooome,” Harley called out to the manor, heading through the living room/gymnasium.

Lucy was balancing on the beam by her hands. “Never heard that one before.” She went into the splits and stayed on one hand.

Harley looked over her form. “Point your toes more...there ya go.” Lucy did as recommended. “I got candy for dinner!” She dumped her stolen lollipops on the table.

“I already ate, Aunt Harley,” she said, “I made extra pasta if you want.” She pointed over to the kitchen, before switching hands and flipping herself over.

“Oh,” Harley said, going over to make a plate, but feeling like ants were crawling in her skin. “You know, you don’t have to call me your aunt when it’s just the two of us,” She said, swirling her fork through the noodles.

Lucy shrugged, “Force of habit. Plus it’s a good idea in general, ya know, in case someone’s secretly listening in or we mess up some other time.”

Harley shrugged her shoulders. “Makes sense,” and it did, but it still kind of hurt. “You can have the lollipops for dessert though. You like cherry?” She tossed her the red candy.

Lucy looked down at the wrapper a second. “Can’t, I’m allergic to the red dye.”

“Oh,” Harley said, silently cursing herself. That was something that mothers should know about their kids, allergies and crap. “Well. Lemon then?”

“Sure!” They traded the lollipops, and Harley sucked on hers between bites of the pasta. Sweet and savory combined, delicious.

Lucy swung her legs as she sat on the beam. “Does...my father have any allergies?”

Harley blinked at her. Did Joker have any allergies? It was hard to say. Even now, Harley didn’t know a lot about the Joker. That’s how he liked it. “Best not to talk about it,” she said instead, “In case of those listening things or whatever.”

Lucy hummed, but didn’t seem satisfied. “Hey,” Harley said, trying to distract her from the ‘dad’ talk, “You wanna go out with me tomorrow?”

Lucy brightened, jumping a bit, “Where are you gonna go?”

“I dunno,” she said, “Go lookin’ for trouble. Let the trouble find me. Punch out a couple people but only if they REALLY deserve it!” And maybe if they only kinda deserved it, Harley thought.

Lucy hummed again, thinking. “I dunno. I think violence often begets further violence, and while it is occasionally necessary, efforts should focus more on the community building and personal improvement area.”

Harley blinked at her. Right, she was a reader, Delia had mentioned that. Not unlike Harley at her age, really, although Harley had focused on psychoanalysis instead of philosophy. “Ah, of course,” she said, “Well, what do you wanna do?”

Lucy thought for a second. “Well, there was this girl I wanted to go inspire to fight her eating disorder.”

“Oh,” Harley said nodding. It was a noble cause, really, but...also seemed really, really boring. “I...sure!” she smiled.

The truth was, when Lucy came out to live with Harley full time, she had really thought they would be a lady dynamic duo, a proper partnership mother/daughter team. But Lucy wasn’t much like Harley. Or, she was but, she was different, a goody two-shoes. Or, a goody tutu. Ha.

More than that, she followed a strange sense of logic that was oddly reminiscent of...Harley didn’t even finish the thought.

“You don’t want to go, do you?” Lucy asked.

“Hmm? Of course I do!” Harley said, “I’d do anything with you sweetheart,” she gave Lucy a wink, then went to the kitchen to hide her facial expression.

She didn’t see that Lucy had followed her until she was directly behind her. “Oh, Jesus!” She said, clutching her heart, “Gotta look out there, sweetie. Almost brained ya!”

“Is Dad like me at all?” she asked, head tilted to the side.

Harley blinked at her. She felt like her bones were shaking inside her skin. “Why would you ask a thing like that?”

Lucy spun a little in place making her tutu swish. “I’ve been reading about him. People think he’s crazy. I mean, he says it. But that’s not what your records say.”

Harley frowned, backing away as though physical distance would get her out of the conversation. “What’re you goin through my records for? What, are you a snoop?”

“They got published after one of your arrests,” Lucy said, “Other people were more interested in the little notes you left in the margins, but--”

“Alright, stop.” Harley said, hand clutching her lollipop stick so tight it might break. “Look, Mr...your father is mean and cruel and manipulative, and nothing like you! He wants to drive other people crazy, and for some people, self included, he succeded. But I grew out of it as best I could and now...you don’t need to worry about him, ok? He ain’t ever gonna know about ya, and he ain’t ever gonna find ya. Got it?”

Lucy hesitated a second and there was something strange in her eyes. Something familiar. “Got it,” she finally said.

Harley lightened, smiling at her. “Why don’t we play a game or somethin? You like Monopoly? I make up my own rules!”

Lucy smiled, “That sounds nice,” she said, all bright again. As they set up the game, Lucy said, “You don’t have to come with me tomorrow, by the way. I can take care of myself.”

“You sure?” Harley asked. Lucy nodded. For the rest of the evening, Harley felt like something was…off.

She slipped the burner phone out of her pocket. She typed, ‘Wanna set up a playdate?’

“She called it a WHAT?!” Damian said, nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Aww,” Tim said, over by the batcave computer, “Little Damian’s got a plaaayydaaate.”

“I will end you, Drake.” Damian snarled, fingers twitching for his sword.

“Enough,” Bruce interrupted the both of them. “Damian, if it helps you can think of it as a mission.”

“I thought I was forbidden from Robin duties for the next two months.” Damian said, arms crossed.

Bruce groaned. “Harley has taken in a ward, her niece Lucy. She has some petty crime charges, but from my recon, she’s not a villain. Harley wants her to spend time with someone her age, and I need someone who will watch over her.”

“Watch out for her, or watch out because of her?” Damian asked, scowling.

“Oooh, good question,” Tim said, still at the computer. “Hey, how come you didn’t set me up with vigilante kids?”

“Because you found them on your own,” Bruce shot back, “Look. Damian, you just have to spend the day with her. Follow her around, help her out as long as it’s not hurting anyone. Don’t let her get killed. Invite Jon if you want.”

“Uggh, Jon’s off world with his Dad,” Damian said.

“Oh right,” Bruce said, massaging his temple. “Why do interdimensional crises have to happen at the worst times?”

“Why is it we need a plural for interdimensional crisis?” Tim asked.

Bruce gave him a side glance to let him know he was coming up on the line that breached from ‘annoying’ to ‘problem Bruce will deal with.’ “Damian…”

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he said, “But I won’t be her friend by you forcing us.”

“Fine.”

They met up with Harley at a neutral location downtown on top of a party goods store. “Hiya Batsy, Hey Bird Boy!”

Despite himself, Damian liked Harley. She was usually of a like mind about which villains did or didn’t deserve to live, but he didn’t tell Batman that. “Harley,” Batman said, “Where’s your niece?”

“Just doin some high-wire practice.” Harley said, “Lucy-goosey!”

From the side of the building, a girl faulted up from where she was hanging on the flagpole. A girl wearing a tutu and white paint. “Nice to meet you, Batman,” Lucy said, “Aunt Harley’s told me….a lot of mixed things.”

“YOU!” Damian said, before he could stop himself, and all three of the others turned to him.

Lucy trotted forward on her tiptoes. “Have we met?” She asked, tilting her head, and looking him up and down.

Damian swallowed. “Uhh….”

“Blackbird!” Lucy said, and swooped him up into a hug, “Oh, I knew you were a Robin, why’d you lie to me?”

“Blackbird, huh?” Batman said, and he couldn’t see, but he knew there was a very pointed eyebrow being raised at him.

Damian, still being swung like a ragdoll by Lucy, tried to gain his balance. “I didn’t...I mean I wasn’t…”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Batman said, “You kids go on, I have something to talk about with Harley.”

“Kids?!” Damian said, offended, especially that he was going to be left out of whatever this conversation was. But in doing so, he left himself vulnerable as Lucy pulled on his cowl to the edge of the building.

“Come on, birdy, whatever color you are. The city awaits!” And she jumped from the roof, grappling on outcroppings to reach the street safely. Damian grumbled, but eventually followed.

Harley looked to Batman, and her face fell. “He’s out there, isn’t he?”

Batman gave one slow nod.

Lucy skipped everywhere. It was very irritating, because it was faster than walking, but slower than running, so hard to keep pace. Also,it was just very perky, which made it hard to sulk.

Lucy claimed she had deliveries to make around town. Something about girls who were bullies in high school and were treating others poorly, but it was only because of the societal pressures that were put on young girls of America and...and thats about where Damian lost interest.

She carried a cartfull of boxes like a damn girlscout, and left them on the girls doors. Damian could have followed in his sleep...except there was something about one of the boxes….

“What’s in that one?” Damian asked as she brought it to the next home.

“Huh?” Lucy said, “Same thing as in all of them, some cookies, a letter, balloons of course and--”

“It’s beeping,” Damian said.

“What?”

Damian didn’t wait any longer, he grabbed the box out of her arms and tossed it as high into the sky as he could, tackling her to the ground. The box then exploded.

Lucy gasped in excitement, clapping her hands together. “Birdy, look at it! It’s fireworks!”

Damian growled, jumping off of her and taking out his sword. “I knew it, I knew you were up to no good.”

Lucy tilted her head. “Whatcha talkin about, Birdy?”

“You--” He pointed to where the box was still smoldering. “You were going to put a BOMB on that girl’s doorstep!”

“I didn’t put that there,” Lucy said, getting up with no care of the sword pointed at her.

“You-” Damian stammered. “What?”

Lucy bent down and picked up a scrap of paper from the ruins. “Change of plans for the evening, Birdy!” Lucy said, “We’re going puzzling!”

She tossed the paper at him and he grabbed it quickly. It read ‘I’ve the tallest of trunks and thickest of stumps, a switch in the breeze, but I’m no tree. What am I?’”

They came quickly to the elephant pasture at the zoo. Damian couldn’t help it, he held out his hand for the elephant. She reached out her trunk and wrapped it around him. He couldn’t help but laugh.

Her baby came forward this time, trotting on new steps. He was already the size of a small horse, but he stole Damian’s heart all the same. He tried to bowl Damian over like a large puppy, and Damian couldn’t help but laugh. “Didn’t know you could laugh, Birdy,” Lucy said, kneeling over a shady patch in the enclosure.

Damian’s scowl returned. “Stop calling me ‘Birdy,’” he said, “You can just say ‘Robin,’ if you want.”

“But aren’t there other Robins?” Lucy said, fiddling with something, “I’d love to call you something unique to you.”

“There’s already a Blackbird, you know.” Damian said, continuing to pet the baby elephant.

“There is?” Lucy asked, “Picking a superhero name is HARD. I’m still trying to get Commedia to stick. You know, like, Commedia del arte? But I’ll end up getting called ‘Tutu girl’ or something if I don’t watch out.”

Damian gently pushed the elephant away, seeing what she was doing. She was hands deep in another box like the one they’d found in her cart. “Careful, it could be another bomb.”

“Fireworks,” Lucy corrected, “and I already diffused it.”

Damian leaned down, looking. She had indeed done so, quite efficiently. “How did you know to do that?”

Lucy smiled, “An uncle of mine taught me. You’ll meet him.” She dug further into the box. “I wouldn’t mind some more fireworks, but I don’t want to scare the elephants.” She pulled out another slip of paper.

“This has all the hallmarks of The Riddler,” Damian said, “We have to be careful. He might have bombs all over the city.”

“Fireworks!” Lucy corrected again, “And, probably. See, we already have the next clue!” She waved the paper and read out “Can you hear me make a sound, only when you are around.”

“Of course you can only hear things when you’re around.” Damian said, frowning.

“But only when someone’s around does it make a...Oh!” Lucy said, jumping to her feet, “An echo! We have to go somewhere there’s an echo!”

Damian sighed, “I have an idea.”

Technically they weren’t IN the Bat cave. They were at a far entrance to it, another end of the cave system. So he wasn’t breaking any rules. “Hey, is that Wayne Manor?” Lucy asked. “I tried to break in there once, but they have some crazy rich person security system.”

“Funny that.” Damian said, trying to seem completely ordinary.

Lucy stood at the edge of the cave and yelled into it. “ECHO!” listening for the echo in return. She skipped into the cave, humming all the way, the sound bouncing off as she went.

“Lucy?” Damian said, following her, “Don’t go too far, there’s all sorts of--” He heard a squeal and rushed forward.

He stopped short, his flashlight falling on Lucy. She waved at him to put it down, squinting. “Look here!” She brushed aside some dirt to find some rusted over metal. “Isn’t it fascinating! This cave system must go on for miles! Maybe people hid treasure there!”

“It’s just the old mining system,” Damian said, truthfully. “It’s all blocked off.”

“That can’t be hard to undo,” Lucy said, intrigued by whatever lay beyond.

Damian grabbed her hand before she could continue. “We have to catch the Riddler. There has to be another package here.”

Lucy sighed, but nodded. She took his arm with the flashlight and swung him around the cave. “Ah! There.”

She took the package and skipped out of the cave. “Careful!” Damian urged. “Come on, just diffuse it.”

“Nope, not these ones.” She tossed the package high in the sky, and Damian saw the fireworks light up.

He felt his phone buzzing, no doubt Tim could hear an explosion out here, not to mention Alfred. They’d come investigating fast enough. He leaped up, grabbing the fallen slip of paper, and grabbed Lucy again to pull her along. He read it quickly and passed it to her as he made his way away. “Even in the city scape, nature comes to take its place.” Lucy read. “It must be the park!”

l,

“No,” Damian said, still pulling her, “I mean, yes, that is the answer to the riddle, but that’s not where we’re going.” He texted the police to inform them of the location of the hidden package so they could diffuse it, and dragged Lucy away.

The original Gotham Ice Cream shop was one of the oldest remaining buildings in Gotham, although was clearly closed for the night.

Damian saw a flash of green from the kitchens and rushed inside, finding none other than the Riddler standing there. “Stand down, Riddler,” Damian said, holding out his sword, “We’ve got you now!”

Riddler snarled, backing into a defensive stance. “Robin! How did you possibly find me?”

Damian smirked, “The beginning of each clue was clearly spelling out your final location. I-C-E. I didn’t need to follow 5 more clues to figure that out.”

Riddler cursed. “Those clues weren’t for you! They were for--!”

Lucy came skipping up to join Damian. “Hi, Uncle Eddy!”

“Lucille!” Riddler said, immediately warming. “I had so many sights around Gotham for you to see, why’d you go skipping to the end?”

Lucy skipped up to him, and Damian was once again left dumbfounded. “My friend Birdy here isn’t much for riddles, I think,” she said, “Although he enjoyed the elephants! And he knew about the mining carts in the caves, I want to explore those later.”

‘Uncle Eddy’ hugged Lucy, and Damian came to his senses, “THIS is your uncle?!”

Lucy shrugged, “I mean, that’s what I call him. I met him when I was visiting Aunt Harley a few years ago.”

“I heard you had moved to Gotham full time,” Riddler said, “I wanted to be sure you saw the sights. But the bat-brats have to ruin everything I suppose.” Riddler glared at him, and he glared right back.

“I don’t-” Damian started, but cut himself off, “You can’t just be leaving BOMBS around the city!”

“Fireworks!” Lucy and Riddler both corrected.

“Whatever! They’re explosive and they’re dangerous!” Damian hated having to be the safety one. It felt wrong.

Riddler rolled his eyes. “He’s just as much a barrel of laughs as the big one.”

“Aw, he’s sweet, really,” Lucy said, coming over to Damian and linking their arms. “Aunt Harley and Batman set us up on our own little playdate.”

“It is NOT!” Damian said, squirming away from her, “It is NOT a playdate.”

“Uncle Eddy, can my friend Birdy have some Ice Cream too?” Lucy asked, ignoring him.

Riddler and Damian glared again. “Fine.” He pushed his own bowl of ice cream towards Damian and went to get his own. “It’s MYSTERY flavor!”

Damian looked at it hesitantly as Lucy sat down to enjoy. Riddler went back to the kitchen. “It’s coconut,” Lucy said, “But Uncle Eddy likes to think it’s a mystery, so I let him.”

Damian frowned at her. “You’re really weird.”

“Thank you!” Lucy said, patting the seat beside her. “Come on, even you had to admit you had fun today.”

Damian thought about the elephants, and skipping around with Lucy, and watching the fireworks at the mouth of the cave, and seeing her all excited about mining carts for some reason. “Fine,” he said, “But it’s NOT a playdate.”

“Alright, alright,” Lucy said, digging into her ice cream. “Just a regular date then.”

“I--” Damian started, his head exploding with so many protests that he ended up just short circuiting. Lucy continued chowing down on ice cream like she didn’t say anything of importance. So, Damian just sat beside her, and ate his own.

[that-pissed-off-tolkien-blogger]

Okay now tell me more about Nori. How did he and Dwalin met? How did they come to come past their differences? At what point did Nori's family learn of their relationship?

So, from Tolkien we know that Nori is the middle brother. The daddy Ri died when they were young. How I'm not sure. I don't really have a headcanon for it (shockingly). It was hard on their mom to be a single mother of three. She was out a lot working so Dori kind of ended up becoming mom at home, even more so when their mother got sick and died one winter. Dori's childhood ended that night and he became mom, dad, and big brother. He did his best so his brothers would have a childhood, but after watching his parents die, he became rather overbearing. It was this overbearing that caused Nori to start acting out. At first it was normal kid stuff like staying out past curfew, being a brat, etc. The crime came later.

Personally, I see Dori being willing to do anything to give his brothers a roof over their head and Ori an education since the little boy was so smart. And I mean just about anything. Nori found out about some of the stuff Dori did and just how tight their purse is the wrong way. He never told Dori what he saw. During his rebellion years, he learned to sneak quite well to get out of the house and also how to quietly filch things. While Dori never let his little brothers go hungry, Nori did have nights where he wasn't as full as he would like. He didn't see any harm in taking from the rich. Why should they have such easy lives and do so little to help the poor? So, when he realized how bad off they really were and how hard Dori worked to keep them afloat, he did the only thing he could think of: turn to a life of petty crime.

And with that and a lot of determination and motivation he became the best thief in Ered Luin. There isn't a safe or a house he can't break into. There isn't a pocket he can't pick. But, of course, stealing from the rich is going to raise some alarms. Dwalin was put on the case when absolutely no one could identify let alone find or catch the infamous thief. It helps that Nori learned how to be a master of disguise. You don't do your hair like that or have Dori as a brother without learning how to do amazing hair styles and ones that can alter face shape. Sure, he's been caught a few times but he always gets away and when he's caught in disguise no one is the wiser.

But Dwalin is a different animal when it comes to crime. He is stubborn and determined. Eventually, he starts putting together Nori's patterns, which are very erratic on purpose but even chaos has a pattern. And the supposedly uncatchable thief gets caught several times by Dwalin. Nori honestly enjoys the thrill of the chase and, I mean, he thinks Dwalin is pretty damn hot, so he allows this cat and mouse game to go on. He is absolutely in charge of the game.

Nori is the one who makes the first move. He starts flirting with Dwalin during chases or while he's in jail. The flirting winds Dwalin up. Finally, one time when Dwalin has Nori pinned to a wall after catching him (which Nori totally allowed) when Nori makes his move. Dwalin is so shocked Nori is able to get away. It happens again and again (all through Nori's planning). Dwalin is honestly confused both by Nori and his own reactions. He's always thought of himself as a ladies man. Zero problem with women, long string of exes. He never clicked with any of them enough to marry them, but he never considered trying to date men. So having physical (and emotional! not that he'll admit it) responses to Nori confuses the hell out of him.

Dwalin gives up on the idea of actually catching Nori. The catch and...release method is perfectly suitable for both of them. Until the quest for Erebor. Then things change. The two of them spend a lot more time with each other in the company of others. Until then both of them have only known the basics about the other. Dwalin knows less about Nori than Nori knows about him. Nori totally has spies everywhere. In the decades of being a thief, he set up a thief network that includes training newbies. It helps keep the thieves safe and helps lessen the chances of any turf wars. But they honestly don't know anything about each other. The quest actually allows them to get to know each other.

It's definitely Nori who reaches out first. Dwalin hasn't told anyone, anyone about what's been happening. At first it's really awkward but Nori is a smooth talker so he manages to keep things going when Dwalin turns to stone (he's freaking out inside). Nori helps Dwalin through his emotional confusion when Dwalin lets him. By the time they reach Erebor they have a very awkward and tentative relationship. The grief sex after The Battle of the Five Armies is amazing.

It isn't until after botfa that their families find out. I mean Dori suspected something and so did Balin but neither was about to confront their respective brother. Both know better than to do that. Honestly, for as sneaky as Nori is and as stoic as Dwalin is, they're kinda bad at hiding their budding relationship and sneaking off to shag. Though, it goes over Ori's head. Ori's like the last person to suspect anything (meaning he doesn't suspect anything until he's literally told by them). Even then, it's a while after botfa that they find out. Dwalin is, if anything, a man of honor and duty. He feels duty bound to help Dain reestablish the kingdom in the Lonely Mountain and it eats up a lot of his time. Nori doesn't mind since he's busy setting up a spy network (and a thieves guild because he knows thieving will still happen and he wants them to be safe). But when they do decide to tell their family, they get everyone together and tell it at once (money absolutely changes hands)

[copias-thrall]

Cause I'm Young and I'm Here and So Beautiful

A look into the rise and fall of Mary Goore's flash-in-the-pan modeling career.

~12.5K Mary Goore/Reader *drug/alcohol use; mentions of past child abuse; brief homelessness; plot no porn; POV shift*

This fic was inspired by and is very loosely based on Aurelio Voltaire's early days in NYC in the 90s, though I have set it in Boston in the early aughts. 😊

Many thanks to the artists who did commissions for this! 🥰

One Way Streets

Mary stepped off the regional rail and gripped his backpack. He had $72.57 in cash rolled into his socks and a give-em-hell attitude.

When he’d packed his bag the night before, he wasn’t even sure if he’d go through with it, but he couldn’t stand being home anymore. Some of his friends had told him he was crazy.

"Three more months, dude. You got this. Just finish high school, then bounce."

But they didn’t have to live with his dad and the step-monster. Every day was a new indignity. Having them bitch about his music and his style was one thing—that he could have dealt with—but everything else had just kind of…escalated.

Now that the kiddies were older, they’d turned into gremlins. They’d somehow sensed that Mary wasn’t their beloved older brother—he was some sort of half other. They’d stopped questioning why "mom was so mean" to him and had accepted that she was because there was something wrong with Mary. They realized they could be little shits and blame everything on him.

And dad just didn’t care. He’d throw up his hands and say, "I have to live with her"—as if Mary wasn’t in the same boat.

Dad hadn’t stopped her when—in a rage—she’d smashed every single vinyl album Mary had owned because the twins ruined her nice tablecloth. He’d shrugged when she cut all Mary's guitar strings so he couldn’t play "the devil’s music." He’d held Mary back when she took a match and burned all his secret stuff that Mary kept under his bed—action figures, books, guitar mags, journals—in the backyard because he got detention for smoking. He hadn’t said a word when the police showed up after she came at Mary with scissors because he’d dyed his hair black and he’d pushed her away before she could scalp him.

Mary thought for sure he was going to get carted off to jail as she screamed about him terrorizing the family and being afraid he was going to kill her sons in their sleep, but the officers had just looked at her bored and told her being a teenager wasn’t a crime.

So, no: Mary couldn’t wait 3 more months.

He’d scraped together what money he had left from his secret shifts working as a busboy under the table at a local dive downtown, packed his backpack with the essentials, and walked the 5 miles to the train station instead of going to school.

Eighteen was 10 weeks away. He could fudge it for a few months, especially since he could already get away without using his fake ID to get into shows most of the time.

So, to the big city it was.

He shifted his weight and tried to pretend that he belonged here in Boston, but actually facing the busy streets was a lot different from looking at a bird’s-eye view map. He had a printout in his pocket, but he didn’t want to look like a doe-eyed tourist. So he set off down the seemingly labyrinthine streets in the direction he could have sworn was the correct one.

It wasn't.

When he came out a side alley into Faneuil Hall, he almost wondered if he'd gone through a fairy portal, since he was clear on the other side of town. Begrudgingly, he checked his creased map, and set out once more.

And ended up spit out by the State building.

Finding the hostel turned into a fraught adventure, and he got turned around several times more. When he tried to ask for directions, most people pushed past him while one lady shoved $5 at him. He used the cash to buy a hotdog, and it was the vendor who ultimately gave him directions in his thick, Southie accent.

Of course, making it to the hostel ended up being just part one. The rates were almost double what it stated online ("Sorry, honey—that site hasn’t been upgraded since the 90s."), and two nights were practically all his savings. Mary had thought he’d at least have a couple of days to find a job, not 36hrs.

He left the hostel, wondering for the first time if maybe he shouldn’t go back home…but he decided it was a nice day out. Surely there was some place he could hunker down. Just for the night.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the cops at every fucking turn telling him to move along. And any place out of line-of-sight seemed to already be inhabited.

He finally found a place behind some rocks in the Seaport where he didn’t think he’d be murdered in his sleep, curled around his backpack, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Mary woke up damp from the dew and the morning sun streaming into his eyes. The birds were creating an awful racket, but Mary guessed it was as good an alarm clock as any.

He ran his fingers through his bird's nest of hair, and he made his way back to the South Station. The men’s room may have smelled like a sewage treatment plant, but at least it was free. He had expected it to be mostly empty at the crack of dawn, but it was full of commuters making that last run to the head before they had to take the train 2hrs out of the city for work.

And it was a sight: a bunch of suits with their fancy lattes washing their hands, and Mary in the corner trying to surreptitiously wipe down with paper towels under his Misfits t-shirt and his shredded jeans. At school, he’d have probably gotten into several altercations by now—no one would have let him just turn into Mary Goore without a fight—but this was Boston, and no one gave him more than a cursory glance.

Just another college kid.

It emboldened Mary to go full-out in the kind of way he had only done when going out to the punk shows downtown at night: kohl all the way around his eyes, and some on his cheekbones; mascara because his lashes are long and thick, and he knows it (his dad had said it made him look hard, and Mary had sneered that maybe that was what he’d been going for. But maybe it had been because he’d liked the way it had made his green eyes pop.); a smear of the step-monster’s fanciest matte lipstick on his full lips; and airplane glue in his hair to give it that lift.

He made a kissy face at himself in the mirror, and headed back out.

It was a nice Spring day—almost boiling in the direct sun—and it tempted Mary to wear only his battle vest, but even he kind of figured applying to jobs half dressed was a mistake.

He walked all over the city, trying not to get lost, looking for any kind of work—dishwasher, busboy, barback—but all he had to show for it was blistered feet and a raging appetite. The only good part of the day was that he noted any restaurant or bakery that looked like it might toss perfectly good food at the end of the day.

He and his friends had become experts at dumpster diving in his podunk town, and he felt confident that he had a good feel for a jackpot. Mary staked out a bakery and was rewarded with a find of "old" bagels. He shoved as many as he could into the nooks and crannies of his backpack before slinking off to the Commons to inhale at least two of them.

Cold, stale dough never tasted so good.

He watched the tourists and the professionals walk by in ones and in groups while he ran his bare feet through the grass. Some laughed with each other as they sauntered down the path while others seemed singularly intent on their ultimate destination. A pack of dogs ran and played with each other as their owners looked on fondly, and nearby the baseball diamond hosted a casual game.

Mary counted his lucky stars that his first week in Boston was April at its kindest—always mild during the day, even when it turned cloudy, and a few times even downright warm. The nights turned chilly, though, and it had Mary in more layers than an onion. If the birds or damp didn't wake him, his butt cramps from being curled in a tight ball all night did.

He spent those days walking around the city proper looking for work. He wasn't adventurous enough to make the leap across the bridges to Cambridge just yet, but his travels gave him a good sense on how the different sections of Boston connected—and showed him potential places to crash at night. He didn't even mind living off day-old garbage food and drinking from bubblers (he'd bought a water for the express purpose of reusing the bottle), but the barren wasteland that seemed to be the job market was beginning to weigh on him.

At home, he could always find a shit job if he was willing to put up with shit hours and ridiculous requests. Here, though, Mary was just one of many desperate people willing to do desperate work.

And he didn’t look particularly trustworthy or reliable.

@dipendancesld

Hashtag WTF

I’m scrolling through Insta on the T, and I’m way down the rabbit hole of hashtags. New content was at a minimum this morning (how can I follow accounts in triple digits and only see the same 4 posts?!), so I’d started with some art tags and ended up where I usually end up—trolling social media for blurry pictures of my boy.

His band has been a local staple for years—or at least that’s what he told me on our first date. I had just moved from New York after a nasty breakup, ready to start fresh, and I’d seen him at a coffee shop hanging posters for his next show in his leather jacket, asymmetrical Metallica crop top, and stomping boots.

Fresh had never looked so good.

Then, a few months back, an online publication had featured his band in the year’s 50 best bands "you’ve never heard of," and now the band's starting to gain traction.

He’s starting to gain traction.

Finding the new online content of him first has become a game the two of us play. We had to stop counting images posted from the popular fan accounts because Mary's now acquaintances with most of them, and I said it was hardly fair to snipe me that way. Mary had pouted—but it was to cover up his grin. So now we troll for the pictures of his latest gig or at his favorite haunts from either his  casual fans or one of his new ones. I even have a whole range of hashtag typos saved if I really want to triumph, since Mary just doesn't have the attention span.

I usually win, though, by virtue of not keeping Rockstar Hours—and because Mary doesn’t have a smartphone. Mary delights in spending the wee hours while I'm sleeping finding new content, and I'll often wake to one he's pulled up on my laptop and a "suck it" sticky note stuck to my monitor.

(But I’m reigning supreme.)

There’s a thirst tag I sometimes comb through (for reasons), and today I’m desperate for that morning serotonin to keep me from dozing off, which is why I stumble across a particularly convincing cosplayer in some…risqué poses and outfits.

The dude is really good, and I have to admit he really does have Mary’s mannerisms down pat. He’s younger and a little skinnier than Mary is now, but his facial expressions are on point. I zoom in to see the contouring technique because he's using one of those filters to make it look old…and that’s when I sense something off. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but usually there’s an uncanny valley to his serious cosplayers, and this dude looks so real. He’s even 100% accurate with the mole placement, which is something I never see.

My heart does a flip-flop.

Is that…actually Mary?

Foundling

Mary's sixth night in the city, it rained. It was more of a brief Spring shower, but it was still enough to soak him and his backpack through. He shivered through the early morning hours until the sun came up, then he made his way to the Commons to lay his belongings—and himself—out into the sun to dry.

By midday, he had a slight sunburn across his nose, but most of his things were dryish—though the food was a soggy lost cause. He cut his losses and decided to buy a sausage from the hotdog vendor, even if that meant he was down to $52.37 in his sock bank.

It was the most amazing thing he'd ever eaten in his entire life (sometimes he still dreams of it), and he gobbled it down as he sat in the grass and watched the show of people pass by.

He could take today off from his job search.

Just another Groundhog Day of rejections.

A gaggle of kids about his age walked past, and he lit up when he saw them: studs and bright hair and cuffs and combat boots. They ran and shrieked and shoved at each other, and Mary had never felt such longing to be a part of something.

Not that nebulous feeling of "my world is out there somewhere," but "my world is right there if I can just get to it."

And he realized maybe he could.

These were his people.

Mary hopped off the bench and approached the boisterous group.

"Uh, hey…guys."

The pack stopped and looked him over, confused but not hostile.

"Oh hey, man" said a girl with green fins and a studded, leather jacket.

"Hey."

I have nowhere to go. Can I go with you?

"Sorry, I forgot your name."

"Oh, you don’t—"

A guy in a tight striped shirt, snake bites, and blue hair interrupted him.

"Shit, were you in my intro into film class last year?"

Mary was a high school dropout.

"Nah, dude. I’m new and shit."

…But he wasn’t stupid.

A curvy white goth with bleached blonde hair and a cream princess dress smiled at him.

"Aww, that’s rough, honey. If you think about it, they really ought to give transfers on-campus housing. It sucks to be so new and away from the action."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. Sucks."

"Well, we’re going to The Pit, wanna come?"

"If you guys don’t mind…"

"Fuck, the more the merrier!"

Mary smiled as they assimilated him into the group. He found out the goth’s name was Vanessa ("But call me Vanity."), green fins was Alexa ("Or Alex. I’m trying it out."), striped shirt was Billy, and the two other punks were Mandi (Manic Panic red) and Aaron (band tee, spiked collar).

No one laughed at him when he introduced himself as Mary or asked him why he had a girl’s name.

They took him onto the T at Charles MGH, and Mary marveled at the setting sun over the Charles River before the train ducked underground to barrel in Cambridge. At Harvard, they ushered him off the train and directly into The Pit, and Mary almost cried when he saw the pit rats there playing hacky sack, strumming guitars, and smoking cloves. Mary watched as his group high-fived, bumped chests, and hugged nearly everyone there before introducing him as if they’d known him for years.

He was shit at hacky sack, but he accepted a round on the guitar and shared a clove with a white girl who had a rat's nest of hair.

"Fuck their beauty stands," she said when she caught Mary staring.

Mary smiled and pointed to his own mess of hair. "Fuck ‘em," he repeated.

She cackled and handed him a brown bag with what he expected to be whiskey, but tasted like turpentine.

She laughed harder at his face as he coughed, and she pounded him on the back.

"Moonshine, dude. Lenny makes it in his bathtub."

"Which one is Lenny," Mary asked as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, he’s not here. He goes to MIT. We have a strict trade agreement—booze for pot. I’m Katie."

Head fuzzy, Mary had made out with her until Aaron tugged on his arm.

"Shit dude, we gotta go before the T closes. You live close to here?"

"Uh…"

"Aww, I think he got into Lenny’s moonshine," said Vanity. "If he’s a transfer, I bet he’s at some shithole in Allston. You in Allston, honey?"

Mary just nodded.

"All right then," said Alex, taking charge. "We’ll put him up tonight. There’s no way he’s gonna make it back to Allston by himself, and I’ll be fucked if I’m trekking out there without a BU party to crash."

Mary wobbled slightly as Alex took his arm in his and led him to the T.

"Ok, we gotta go now or we’ll all be hoofing it."

They took Mary back to their dorm by the Hatch Shell and signed him in as a guest.

"Is this ok?" Mary asked warily—he didn't want to get kicked out in the middle of the night.

Mandi patted him on the back.

"We do it all time. No one really gives a shit. Vegan Mick dropped out 2 semesters ago and they don’t even check for his ID."

That night, Mary slept in the common room on a lumpy couch that was half as long as he was.

It was heaven.

The next morning seemed like the end, and Mary slumped as Vanity to sign him out. For one brief day he'd been a part of something, and now it was back to Mary, party of one. But Vanity took one look at his face and asked if he wanted to get breakfast at the dining hall.

Of course, he wanted to…but he thought of the dwindling cash in sock bank and hesitated. Vanity, bless her, misread his trepidation.

"It's on me, sweetie. I know most transfers don’t opt in. Too expensive when it’s not bundled. No worries, I got a ton of points I don’t use."

Alex and Aaron were already half done with their food when Vanity and he joined them, and they looked on in amusement as Mary ate half the breakfast buffet.

When the subject of classes came up, he shrugged off questions.

"None this morning."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him.

"What year did you say you were?"

"Sophomore."

"Not a freshman?"

Mary shook his head. "I’m not a freshman."

She seemed about to ask another question, so Mary quickly changed the subject.

"I thought I’d spend the day applying for jobs. You guys know of any place that’s hiring?"

"No work study?"

"No."

"What kind of work you looking for?"

"Shit, anything. I’ll sweep the fucking floors."

They bandied about ideas, places for Mary to try, but no one had any leads. Too soon, some unknown gong had them scurrying to get to class.

Mary suddenly panicked.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I spend the night again? I mean…"

"Yeah, sure," said Vanity. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, man. Meet me after class and I'll swipe you in."

It apparently was a time-honored tradition, passed down from upperclassmen to underclassmen, on gaming the guest system. Most kids used it to essentially move their significant others into their dorm rooms, but a handful every year used it to give haven to others who had questionable housing situations.

So, just like that, Mary had a place to rest his bones.

@dilfpassing

A Deeper Look

I’m so intent on scrolling through the comments on the grainy pics—which I'm sure now are actual scans—that I completely miss my stop, and I have to put my phone away so I can wheeze lightly jog my way to where I work as a receptionist at an alternative hair salon.

It’s really important that I start a good hour before we open so I can return any calls left on our voicemail first thing in case I can fit anyone in today. Which means I have to shelve my find for now, much to my irritation.

Mornings are super-busy because apparently there are some people in the world that like getting up with the sun and want everything done by noon. (June Cleaver’s salon lets me get away with a lot—like coming to work in denim short-shorts and ripped tights, free hair colors, and a snarky attitude—but late start times aren’t one of them.) I honestly don’t have room in my brain to obsess about the pictures because I’m too busy answering calls, making coffee, settling accounts, and giving the new customer spiel for the 57th time to a walk-in.

It’s just after midday, when Penny, the shampoo girl, collects my cash for the salon-wide sandwich run, and I finally have a moment to breathe. And obsess.

I take out my phone again, and I have to retrace my steps because of course the app has refreshed, which is why Sonia has the time to look over my shoulder.

"Missing dream boy’s dick so much you gotta spend your lunch hour ogling pics of him on the internet?"

I zoom in on the one of maybe!Mary in his underwear.

"Who does that look like to you?"

Sonia makes a guh sound in her throat and backs away.

"I don’t need to see your intimates!"

"That’s the thing! It’s not mine!"

"Your boy’s nudes get leaked??"

I wave my arms around.

"I don’t freakin’ know! They may not even be him. Fucking. C’mere and help me out!"

Sonia warily creeps back over, and so does Ryan, since all the yelling has attracted him.

The three of us peer over the phone as I scroll through the images again.

By the time Penny comes back with lunch, we’ve gone back and forth on who’s in the images—Mary or a fake—and I haven’t been able to do any actual research. The afternoon rush starts, and I have to table the whole thing again, having made no progress at all.

It isn’t until near-closing, when most of the other stylists have gone home—and it’s only June who does the post-work crowd—that I can really dig into the matter.

A deep dive and a couple of defunct, decade-old forums later, I find that what I took as an aspirational hashtag was actually the name of a zine called "Heroes."

There’s like, zero online trail about it—except for a few other grainy scans of other pages of articles, poetry, concert pictures, and art—but it seemed to be an early aughts missive for local underground culture and color.

It still doesn’t explain why Mary’s in there in various states of undress and poses.

Or why Mary has never said a word about it to me.

Stripped Bare

Mary settled into a sort of routine. He spent most days looking for a job—any job—with his backpack full of food from their dining hall. Most nights he rotated couches on different floors so the RAs didn’t notice that he basically lived there.

He made friends with Vegan Mick for about 5 seconds until Mary had eaten an entire Rotisserie chicken from 7-11 in front of him. Mick had launched into a whole spiel, and Mary had pointed out that Mick's jacket and Docs were made of leather. He’d only meant it as a joke—a callout in answer to a callout, like he'd do with his friends back home—but Vegan Mick had turned purple, then iced Mary out every time he saw him after that.

Oops.

The brief friendship had lasted long enough, however, for Mick to give Mary some tips and tricks of being homeless.

Homeless.

That had been a tough pill to swallow. Until Vegan Mick had put Mary’s situation like that, Mary had just thought of himself between places.

But it was true: he didn’t live anywhere. He skated by on the kindness of his new friends, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the ruse of "transfer student who didn’t like his shithole apartment and was too busy job searching to concentrate on classes."

He still spent a few nights a week finding an out-of-the-way place outside to hunker down in or huddling in with Katie and a few of the other gutter punks under their boxes in the corners of the T stations. He knew they would have been more than happy to make room, anyway, but Mary always emptied his backpack of all the pilfered dining hall food for distribution amongst them.

It honestly wasn't so terrible now that he had friends and a warm place to go on cold or rainy nights, but.

He needed an actual place to live. To afford an actual place to live, he needed a job. To get a job, he needed a place to live.

It seemed like a catch-22, and he began to despair that he’d never get ahead…until Mandi offered him a leg up.

Mary was sitting on the grass in the Commons in the shade, thinking that with summer coming up, maybe he could fudge it until the gang came back in September. There was always Katie and The Pit, and Mary was sure he could chip in somehow.

Mandi sat down next to him.

"I thought that mess of hair was you, Mare."

"Hey, Mandi. What’s kicks?"

"You still looking for a job?"

Mary put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Don’t remind me."

"You over 18?"

Just last week. But Mary hadn’t said, since they thought he was a Sophomore.

"Yeah."

"Wanna be at least 21?"

Mary grinned at her.

"That’s what my fake ID says."

She laughed, a tinkling thing.

"You got anything against strip clubs?"

Mary furrowed his brows at her.

"Uh…what’s the right answer here?"

She shoved him playfully.

"Do you want a job?"

"Yeah?"

"Then say no."

"No. No problems with strip clubs." He squinted at her. "Are they looking for male strippers?"

She laughed again.

"Definitely not." She canted her head at Mary. "I mean, you're very pretty, Mare. I could probably put you on as one of the girls…even with these triple As," she flicked playfully at his nipple, which had him grunting and batting at her, "but I was thinking more behind the scenes."

Mary held up his arm and made a weak muscle.

"I don’t think I’d be much of a bouncer, Mands."

"You said you’d wash dishes, sweep floors and shit, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the club I work at—"

"The club at you what now?"

Mandi gave him a strange look.

"Yeah. The strip club I work at."

Mary’s eyes bugged out.

"As a…waitress?"

"As a stripper, Mary. Duh." At his dumbfounded look she shook her head. "It’s kind of extra credit, as a dance major. I’m going to turn it into my thesis. Plus, I make hella bank."

She swept her arm across the park that made up her college "campus."

"How else do you think I can afford this rock-and-roll lifestyle? Not all of us are here on scholarship or mom and dad’s dime."

She tilted her head at him.

"I thought you’d get it."

When Mary didn't respond, she touched his shoulder.

"Mare. I know you don't go here."

"W-what…? I…"

He looked at her, wide-eyed as the blood drained from his face.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not gonna tell anybody. Not if you don't want me to."

Mary looked down. "Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know that means I've got no address."

Mandi bumped his shoulder and waved his words away.

"A lot of the girls dance. Paddy is used to dorm rooms as addresses. You can use mine."

Mary looked at her, hoping he could convey every ounce of gratitude he was feeling.

She grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"So, you up for it? Sweeping floors and bussing tables?" She leveled a look at him. "Cleaning up puke?"

Anything.

"Fuck, I’m desperate, Mands. I’ll hold their hair back if it means a paycheck."

"That’s the spirit!"

***

Mary was sure Patrick was part of the mob—or at least in cahoots. The guy had taken one look at Mary’s ID and had said, "But how old are you really?" and Mary had said, "Nineteen."

Patrick had thrown up his hands. "Well, you ain’t gonna be serving alcohol anyway, kid. Your job is to do whatever I tell you. Some asshole breaks a bottle, you clean up the glass so the girls don’t hurt themselves. Some idiot ralphs all over the toilet seat, you scrub the shit out of that fucker. A bachelor party leaves a table a hot mess, you better be out there clearing off the table for the next one, got it?"

Mary had nodded.

"You show up at 5 to help the girls set up the bar. You stay til whenever it takes to close down—but you only get paid 'til 2am—and you get an hour to eat, unpaid. You don’t bother the girls, and," Patrick had leaned in, "you don’t steal from me."

Mary had gulped and nodded emphatically.

Patrick had jabbed a finger at him. "That includes the booze. If I get fucked because some snot-nosed, underage kid is drinking with my good friends Jim and Johnnie, I’m gonna be very put out."

"Got it, sir."

"Don’t call me sir. I’m Paddy to my friends, so you can call me Patrick."

"Yes, Patrick."

Patrick had looked him over.

"You get paid as an independent contractor just like the girls, so you gotta deal with your own taxes, you got that? I’ll start you at $10 an hour."

Mary’s eyes had gone wide. Back home he was lucky to get 5.

"Ten…?"

Patrick had tilted his head again.

"No, you’re right, 12. Do a good job, and I’ll think about raising it to 15."

Mary had to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"You do weeknights for now so if you fuck up it’s not that much of a problem. If you don’t fuck up and the girls don’t hate you, you can get weekends. Deal?"

Mary had sat up straighter. "Deal." He’d held his hand out, but Patrick had just looked at it until Mary pulled it back into his side.

"Ariel vouched for you, so I’m giving you a shot. Don’t make her regret it."

Mary had shaken his head as Patrick had handed him some forms to fill out.

"Come back at 4 tomorrow with these and we’ll get you started. Now, get out, I got shit to do."

Mary had taken the forms and skedaddled.

Mandi was outside waiting for him, all smiles.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, but fuck—your boss is scary."

"Nah, he’s a teddy bear."

***

The job was awful.

The puke was an almost nightly occurrence, and by the end of the first week, little cuts covered Mary’s hands from the broken glass. The customers were loud, rowdy, and acted as if their mother was going to clean up after them.

Mary swore he would never get the beer smell out. It now lived in his soul.

One dude punched Mary and broke his nose for no reason Mary could tell before the bouncers dragged the guy away. The girls gave him some tampons to stop the bleeding, and Mary finished his shift.

Patrick paid Mary in cash at the end of every week with a "It’s your job to report that, not mine," and at the end of the month, Patrick bumped Mary up to $15/hr. He worked 5 days a week because, according to Patrick, "The Lord gave us a day of rest, and you get one day off per week."

Mary never reported a single cent to the IRS.

The girls loved him, and joked that Patrick had gotten them a pet. They showed him winged eyeliner and smokey eyes and how to contour. They guffawed when they watched him try out their shoes like a newborn deer. On slow nights, they tried to show him pole techniques.

He saw the gang less and less because by the time they were getting out of class, he was going into work, and when he was done work, they were crawling into bed. Fortunately, the desk sitters seemed to forget that he wasn’t an on-campus "student" and didn’t even bother signing him in anymore. There were a few sticklers, but Mary found that—while back home he was less than scum—here, he attracted all the right kinds of attention…and a smirk with the right compliment went a long way.

By the time their school year ended, Mary had saved up $1,000 (and he needed to transfer his money out of sock bank and into the ripped lining of his jacket).

Even though they didn't know just how much they'd saved him, Mary showed up on the last day as thanks to help them all move their stuff into family cars or rented trucks. They hugged him goodbye and said to ring them next semester.

Mandi bopped him on the nose and told him to keep his nose clean.

Mary took a sublet in Allston with 2 BU kids and a Berkley grad student. The "room" was a closed-in porch with a sleeping bag left by the last resident—but it was $400 a month until September, utilities included.

At first, Mary didn't know why the gang was so snobby about Allston, but the summer seemed to be one continual party. It didn't matter what day Mary got up, there were always broken beer bottles and stale beer on their front stoop, and the apartment had a designated watering can for washing away the vomit that dripped down from the top porches to their own.

But he took it in stride, and when he wasn’t at the strip club or sleeping, he was partying with the BU kids, or letting the Berkley grad show him better string fingering techniques.

Mary still tried to get out to The Pit with what groceries he could spare, but Katie had moved on with some of the others to do a protest tour with an activist street band that had come through town, and without her or the gang, it made Mary feel lonely.

By the end of the summer, Mary had saved up enough money for first, last, and security. He even had some left over to buy more than ramen and some new clothes. To Mary, it felt like a million dollars. He rented a garden-level apartment in the cheap part of Jamaica Plain for September 1st and spent that entire day with the BU dudes driving around in their rented truck for Allston Christmas’s best furniture finds.

Mary ended up with a mattress that he hoped on a wish and a prayer didn’t have bedbugs, a mismatched set of dishes, plastic drawers that were slightly warped, and a broken futon frame he swore he would fix. Throw in a few sets of slightly used string lights, and Mary’s cave felt downright homey.

When the gang got back, he simply told them he’d dropped out.

"Yeah, I just don’t think college is for me. Music’s my real passion, you know?"

Alex had groaned.

"I knew that Berkley kid was gonna be a bad influence on you."

Mary shrugged.

"My grades were shit anyway. But I’m still around, you know. The strip club’s only a block from campus."

"Because we saw you so much then," deadpanned Billy.

"Hey! Stop piling on Mary," said Vanity. "He’s following his path."

Mary shot her a wide smile.

"Thanks, Vanity."

Patrick finally gave him a little more leeway with his days off, and Mary started taking Saturday night to join the gang in Harvard Square for the shadow cast of Rocky Horror. One of Aaron’s classmates, Amber, was in it, and they all wanted to support her.

Mary felt that something again. That thing that told that this was his place and his people. This eclectic group who got up in front of strangers every week in their underwear for free enthralled Mary.

He and Amber bonded immediately, and Mary began going even without the gang. The cast welcomed him in as an honorary groupie, and Mary's friendship with the gang waned. There was still Mandi to cavort with at the strip club, but now when Mary wasn't there, he was at any one of the Rocky crew's apartments getting high and playing dress up.

"You’ve got such a Look, Mare," sighed Amber. "I’d kill for your cheekbones."

"I’d kill for your tits."

She slapped him playfully. "Don’t be gross."

"No, I’m serious. Someone once put it in my head that I'd be a hot chick."

The girls had giggled and proceeded to dress him up in bras and corsets with cutlets. They added a wig, and the glo-up surprised even Mary.

Still buzzed, they went out for girl’s night and hit up all the bars in Fenway and flirted their way to free shots from the dude bros before batting their falsies at bouncers to let them into the clubs ahead of the line and without the cover.

The cutlets eventually became a nuisance—and soon they were all flapping them about above their heads as they danced—but Mary had loved the feel of the lace and satin corsets against his skin.

When they’d all collapsed in a pile at the end of the night, Mary wondered if they’d tell him where to get some lingerie for himself.

***

By August, Mary was ready to quit the strip club.

He was tired of cut fingers (they were making it hard to play the guitar he’d bought), the drunks, and the sick everywhere. Now that he had a little cushion, he thought maybe he could at least find something with better hours.

Mandi had graduated and was well into a summer internship at Disney in hopes they’d bring her on as a dancer.

Alex had also graduated and moved out to LA to make it as a film editor.

Vanity and Aaron had started dating after finals, and they had moved in together in Cambridgeport for their last year.

Billy had stopped going to classes before dropping out altogether. No one seemed to know what happened, and when they called his home, his mother just said he was unavailable.

There didn’t seem to be much reason to stick around the Grid anymore, and it was a bitch of a commute back to his place if he wasn’t going to hang out with the Rocky crew. He landed a job at a record store that was walking distance to his apartment.

Patrick seemed surprisingly sad to see him go, saying, "Ah, the good ones smart up," and gave him a $500 bonus for not "fucking up."

Tim, one of the older Rocky people, turned out to not live too far from him, and when Mary started hanging out there, so did the party.

Now that Mary was no longer shackled by the strip club’s hours, his world opened a few more degrees. He spent his nights dressing up while he watched the cast rehearse. (When he showed them a move or two he learned from the women at the club, they tried to get him to do a guest star as Frank. But Mary had shaken his head and said that wasn’t the kind of performing he wanted to do.)

When they weren't rehearsing, they dragged Mary to TT The Bear’s, The Middle East, and The Milky Way Lounge for underground shows. They took him to fetish night at ManRay after a trip to Hubba Hubba for pleather and lingerie, and Mary made a lot of new friends.

Sometimes, Mary would show up to work straight off a night out in his club clothes, eyeliner smudged and lipstick smeared. It should have got him fired, but his boss just shrugged.

"I used to keep rockstar hours too."

Mary still wore all his old vestiges—his battle vest and his ripped jeans—it was just that now he sometimes added a corset and heels.

Wherever Katie was now, he hoped she knew he was still fucking their beauty standards.

ry.omen Insta

Answer Me This

I practically vibrate the entire way back to our place. I'm still trying to wring information out of the internet like it's too-wet clothes, but the only thing I accomplish is making myself motion sick on the bus, so I put my phone back in my pocket and breath through my nose.

When I get home, Mary is sprawled across the couch in his pjs with various limbs hanging over sides and edges as he watches some extreme sport show on my laptop.

I wonder if he just got up, but I see the start of dinner on the stove, so I decide not to snark at him.

"Hey," he says without looking up.

I am, however, gonna need some answers on "Heroes."

I gently close the laptop, and he meets my eyes.

"What?"

I climb onto the couch, and Mary’s limbs recede like vines to make room for me as I scroll through my phone to my photo app where I’ve saved screenshots.

"Lucy," I say in a terrible accent, "you have some ‘splaining to do!"

Mary squints at me and takes my phone, his expression morphing into one of surprise.

"Shit, babe. Where’d ya find these??"

"So they are you!"

He chuckles.

"Christ…I haven't thought about these in fucking years."

"Mind telling me what the fuck?" I ask, my hands on my hips.

I'm only half joking.

Mary grimaces at me.

"Ah."

"I'm gonna need more than that, mister."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Fuck, you know those were hard times for me."

I know about his family, the homelessness. I know he tried out a lot until he found a life that fit. He'd given me the overviews with occasional anecdotes filled with names I never remembered.

But none of them included naughty pictures.

I worm my way under his arm.

"Yeah, I know, Mare."

His hand strokes down my arm.

"I mean, shit. I was kinda an asshole, you know?"

I wrap an arm around his chest.

"You're still kind of an asshole, Goore."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

When he doesn't say more, I poke him hard in the side.

"I’m literally dying here."

He laughs a little.

"Fine. But you gotta remember you asked."

Model Behavior

One day, Mary was walking down the street on his way to drinks with the new friends he'd made the weekend before. It was a good day. He wasn’t hungover as fuck, his makeup was only smudged artfully, and he was pretty sure he was going to get laid.

A guy in a leather jacket and tight jeans maybe a few years older than Mary stopped him on the street.

"Hey, man! I love your style."

Mary batted his eyelashes at him. "Thanks, dude."

"You ever think of dark modeling?"

Mary squinted his eyes at him.

"Dark what now?"

"You know—modeling but like," he gestured up and down Mary’s form, "for dark beauties. Show the world beauty isn’t cookie cutter."

"For like what? A website or some shit?"

The guy dug into his pocket, pulled out a card case, and handed one to Mary.

Heroes Greg Karson, Photographer/Web Design Butera School of Art

Actually, Mary had heard of this. It was a zine about the local happenings around town—concerts, art shows, parties, etc. There was a stack of them next to "Rrriot!" in the record shop. He’d flipped through one occasionally, mostly interested in the band reviews.

"We’re really on the lookout for anyone with the right look. You know, wear stuff you already own."

"So like a street fashion spread?"

"Well, we might do a little more with it, but—you know how it is. Most of the budget goes toward printing costs."

Mary perked up.

"Would I be paid?"

Greg laughed.

"Peanuts, my dude. But yeah. Even if it’s a T token. You interested, then?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Mind if I take a few test shots."

Mary smirked at Greg.

"How do you want me?"

"Just natural."

Putting his hands in his pockets, Mary arched his back and gave Greg his best snotty hipster face.

Greg dug out a digital camera from his carrying case and took a dozen or so pictures of Mary from different angles while telling him to turn this way or that.

Afterwards, the two of them huddled over the camera and scrolled through the shots.

"Aw yeah, this one. I love the attitude. The guys are gonna love it. You have a number where we can reach you?"

Mary gave him the number of the record shop. (His apartment had a phone, but he’d never gotten around to wanting to pay for service.)

Later, he and Amber looked up the Angelfire website on the back of the card. It was one page that contained the mission statement, bios of the creators, and locations to pick up the zine.

"Omigod—you’re gonna become a famous model, Mare!"

"Yeah, right. You know most of it ends up in the trash, right?"

But when Ben called, Mary said he was game. He directed Mary to a co-op in a converted warehouse in Dorchester, and Mary brought his favorite clothes in a borrowed duffle.

A girl in cat pajamas opened the door and pointed at a set of metal stairs with her cereal spoon.

On the second floor, Mary found Greg setting up a makeshift studio. A girl with multiple piercings and yarn dreads leaned against the wall in her black babydoll dress.

Mary sidled up to her.

"You here to model, too?"

She gave him an unimpressed once-over.

"I’m the art director, asshole."

Mary flushed hard as she turned to Greg.

"Couldn’t find one with brains?"

She turned back to Mary.

"I don’t know if you thought this would be a good way to meet chicks or what, dude. But I’m letting you know right now that I’m here on my day off to make sure this adheres to our aesthetic, so if you're not serious, fuck off."

Mary rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shit, sorry. I was expecting a dude named Ben."

She waved her hand in the air as if dispelling Ben.

"The Bens are morons. Good idea, terrible execution. I’m here to make sure we remain true to the idea of 'Heroes,' so don’t fuck up my shoot." She gave him a once over. "Christ. You have any experience?"

Greg turned from where he was testing the white balance.

"Angelique, stop harassing the talent. We get it, you have a degree from RISD."

Angelique snorted.

"As if I don't hear you going on and on about being a professional photographer. 'Hey, lemme shoot your portfolio, baby.' Whatever. As if we're not your only professional credit."

"Hey—you wanted a photographer for peanuts? You got me. You wanted models for peanuts? You got him."

Mary gave her his full snaggle-toothed grin.

"I take T tokens."

Angelique sighed, then pasted on a smile.

"Hi! So happy you’re here!" Her smile drooped. "You got your wardrobe in there?"

"Yeah."

Mary handed her the duffle, and she handed him release forms.

"Here: sign these"

She pawed through his offerings.

"Not bad, not bad." She pulled out a corset and his heeled boots. "We'll keep you in your jeans and have you wear your jacket over your corset. Cool?"

Cool.

The shoot was as professional as a shoot in a warehouse in what Mary was taking to usually be a living room could be. Angelique directed Greg with what she wanted. Greg called out positions and expressions for Mary to pose in.

It was surprisingly hard work, and by the end of a solid hour, his smirking lip was getting tired. Angelique and Greg scrolled through the shots, murmuring to themselves and nodding.

Mary waited—greeting at the other inhabitants as they squeezed by on their way either up or down—until Angelique approached him.

"That’ll do. You mind if we post on our website?"

Mary preened.

"Yeah, that’s kosher."

She handed him a pen and pocket notebook.

"Write down a quick bio."

He scribbled down a quick elevator pitch

Into general skulking and metal \m/

and handed the notebook back to her.

"Great, thanks."

She handed him a $20 bill, her eyes skimming him up and down.

"Next time we should show off those hip bones. Just jeans, I think."

Mary perked up. "Next time?"

"We’ll call you."

***

"Omigod, omigod!"

Amber perched on the record store counter, flipping through "Heroes," as Jon peered over her shoulder.

"Mary…look at you!"

Mary tried to swallow his smug smile.

Failed.

"Yeah. I’m hot shit, ain’t I?"

She bopped him on the nose with the newsprint.

"Don’t be vain."

He showed her his toothy smile.

"I like to think of it as confidence."

"So did Icarus."

Mary snorted and went back to putting prices on the new CDs.

"The camera loves you," said Jon, who was always quiet and reserved as you please…until he put on Frank’s corset and heels.

Mary had tried flirting with him, but Jon always ducked his head and played it off.

"Thanks, man," said Mary, giving him a softer smile.

"So??"

"So what, Amber?"

"Are you gonna do it again?"

Mary shrugged.

"I mean, if they call me, sure."

But he was kind of hoping they would.

When the next issue came out weeks later, Mary stared at the cybergoth on the pages and felt himself deflate. Listlessly, he thumbed through the delicate print, barely skimming the section devoted to the World/Inferno Friendship Society’s set he’d been at the week before.

He set it down with a sigh before he picked up his guitar and plucked out a tune he was trying to coax into a riff.

By the time a Ben called again, Mary had given up the modeling thing as a one-off.

"Hey, dude—thought maybe you guys forgot about me," Mary said in a teasing tone.

The Ben on the other end chuckled.

"It’s like herding cats to get shit out. Nah, dude—we definitely want you to be one of our regulars. You in for next Saturday?"

He was.

***

Over the course of a year, "Heroes" had Mary come out multiple times for shoots. Mainly, Mary wore his own clothes and did his own makeup, but occasionally, Angelique wanted something specific.

"How comfortable are you with boudoir shots?"

"With what?"

"Like a pinup, but more…saucy than sexy."

I'd pose nude if you paid me enough.

(Sure, he was a noodle boy, but he knew he had the goods.)

"Yeah, I’m cool with that."

Angelique brightened at him.

"Great!"

She picked up a set of complicated leather garters and thrust them at him.

"Put these on."

Mary had only ever worn lace garters—mostly out to clubs, but occasionally under his ripped jeans for an extra pop—but he found he liked these even more, liked the way they emphasized his thighs.

"Hey—where’d you get these…?"

(He was already thinking of what he could pair them with for goth night.)

"Local leatherworker. He mostly does pieces for Renn Fairs, but he'll also do custom. I can give you his info."

She led Mary into what was clearly someone's bedroom.

"Don't fuck anything up, or Joye will never let us use this again."

Mary shot her his best shark smile.

"Hey, I only mess up the sheets if someone asks."

Angelique gave him a flat look and called for Greg.

(But when he draped himself over the bed and told Greg to "Paint me like one of your French girls," Mary could have sworn she almost smiled.)

On one memorable occasion, she brought in a guy whose rope bondage demo she watched at a sex convention.

"Put on some of that lingerie and we'll truss you up. You ok with that, Goore?"

Mary ran his fingers over the coils and gave her a wolfish smile.

"You know I'm game for anything."

She gave him a vulpine smile of her own then, and she looked down at him from the height of her platformed boots.

"Good. I thought you should be submissive for once."

Mary had no witty rejoinder for that.

He listened with interest as the guy carefully explained what he was going to do, complete with pictures, and he relaxed easily into the process. (They put bunny ears on him, and it would be much, much later that he got that particular joke. Well played, Angelique.)

The ropes hadn’t let him do much posing, but Mary had kind of liked the constriction, and his thoughts were already on asking Amber to help him create a more versatile version for fetish night.

He’d left that day with a new kink…and the guy’s number.

"Why not just do one big shoot?" he asked another time. "Get it all done in one big bang!"

Angelique held up his garments to eyeball over him.

"Honey, we never even know if there's gonna be a next issue. The Bens spend most of the time arguing. My god you should hear them—Ben bankrolls the whole thing, so he says he should get final say on shit, and Benji wants total artistic control because it was his idea, because 'he's the graphic designer', and because it's his Kinko's employee discount they use."

She gave Mary a curled-lip smile as she tossed a few items at him.

"In the end it's this bitch you're looking at who gets shit done."

Mary began to change (they were long past modesty).

"How'd you get involved?"

"Went to school with Benji."

"Ben too?"

"Neg. The Bens are childhood friends. Ben works some cushy start-up job, so Benji lets him bankroll them both. Rent, utilities—everything. I love Benji to death, but he's a giant mooch."

"Shit, that must be nice."

Angelique shrugged. She stood back to appraise Mary's look.

"It's fucking lame. But it least it gets us fucking paid."

Mary didn't say I'd do this for free. Instead, he struck a pose and said, "I'm just happy for the exposure."

Angelique rolled her eyes and went to fetch Greg.

***

That year and a half would become a nonstop party with Mary as one of the VIPs; he wouldn't say no to anything—be it casual sex, club appearances, or whatever drug the current pretty thing was offering him in the bathroom.

But recognition started slow.

At first, it was customers who would leaf through the zine and recognize Mary.

Then, it was the occasional scenester who’d stop him on the street in JP as he walked about, and Mary would pose for grainy cell phone pics.

Soon, he was being approached at shows and clubs. The first time it happened, Mary was high off his new infamy and ready to please. A woman in a black bandage bra and pleated skirt with bondage straps approached him, and Mary was already thinking of what he could do with those.

"You look like that guy in ‘Heroes’!" she'd shouted to him over the music.

Mary had flashed her a crooked smile and leaned in.

"Maybe I am the guy in ‘Heroes’."

She'd given him an exaggerated once over before sidling closer with hooded eyes.

"I dunno…you're wearing way more clothes."

Mary had pulled his mesh top down by the collar in a tease as he'd curled over her.

"Take me somewhere more private and I’ll let you do a comparison."

She'd compared him all night.

And that was before he and the other "Heroes" models formed their own posse.

The Bens had thrown a BBQ and had invited everyone they'd ever met. There were people packed into their little 2 bedroom in Brighton, spilling down the back stairs, and equally packed into the little square of shared backyard. Ben had taken the 12-pack of 'Gansett beers Mary had brought, then introduced him to the other dark models.

"Now you're all here!" said Ben. He slung his arm around Mary. "Guys, this is Mary. Mary this is Mayhem, Lesley, Lola, and Bryan."

Mayhem was a rivethead, and Mary took to him instantly, but he was wary of the others. Lesley was the cybergoth who'd been in the first issue after him, and Mary still felt a bit salty at them, even though Mary knew by now the Bens rotated the models. Lola, the romantic goth, reminded him enough of Vanity that he felt guilty for losing touch with her and had him projecting a little. Bryan was a metalhead, so: competition.

Mary had thought they'd get along like cats and water, but weed, booze, and "Never Have I Ever" went a long way to creating a shared bond.

And there it was again. That pull. The magnetic force telling him that he'd found the place he was supposed to be. They quickly coalesced into their own pack, calling themselves the "Deathbutantes" (because they always killed it when they debuted for the night).

It had been rare for Mary to miss Friday and Saturday night shenanigans with the Rocky crew, but now, every night was Friday night. There was always a show or a concert or club that one of them knew about—and if they couldn't get lucky with the local color, they'd just go home with each other.

Mayhem taught Mary what Lola jokingly called the "grab a bat" dance, and the two of them cut quite the picture on the dance floors.

Lesley took to Lola, and the two of them could always be counted on for scintillating conversation in dark corners when Mary's limbst needed a break from flailing about.

The clubs weren't really Bryan's scene—take him to a sticky hole in the wall with concrete floors and a stage close enough to feel the sweat from the bands, and he was in heaven—but he liked to come along to hang. He'd drink PBRs, rub Lola's feet when she invariably abandoned her heels for the evening, and argue with Mary about the purity of death metal.

Mayhem and Lola weren't really into live music of the screaming kind, so—while Lesley, Bryan, and Mary bounced off each other in the mosh pits—they'd save a "home" base at one the bartops.

Amber noticed Mary's diminishing presence and stopped by the record shop to call him out.

"So you're not dead! Could've fooled me."

Mary was organizing the albums into order, and he grunted at her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a cad. I'll make it up to you."

"You missed game night."

"Sorry. Jethro Tull played some tiny venue in nowhere Mass, and Bryan was salivating. I mean, Jethro Tull. Can you blame me?"

He looked at her, arms out wide in supplication. But she just blinked at him.

"You have no idea who Jethro Tull is, do you?"

"Sorry, dude. But christ, Mare. You should have invited me. I'd've gone. Maybe I would have even liked them. Now you'll never know."

"I could just lend you an album."

"Nope! The moment passed. Too late!"

Mary riffled through the stock and shoved a Jethro Tull CD into her hands.

She tapped it against her thigh.

"So, when do I get to hang?"

"I can get us into 80s night free."

"No, I mean, with your cooler friends. Your 'murder models', or whatever."

"You wanna hang out with the Deathbutantes?"

Amber scrunched her nose.

"That's so fucking pretentious."

Mary kind of liked it.

"Dunno if they're really your scene."

"Oh? And what's my scene?"

"Musical theater on crack."

She mock gasped at him, "Called out!" before smacking him with the CD. "Whatever. You love musical theater on crack."

Mary draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, I do. But I don't live it, you know? You guys have your niche—and fuck…I love to visit—but it's not mine."

Amber looked up at him, her expression serious.

"So the Dumbutantes are your niche?"

Mary shrugged and went back to shelving.

The Rocky crew had been good to him. They'd taken him under their wing, no questions asked, and helped him realize things about himself. Tim had taken him to the ER when Mary had come down with a serious case of the flu. Matty had taught him the basics of sewing. Gretchen had held him after a bad trip. Omar and he had had many drunken heart-to-hearts about their shitty home lives.

And Amber was his best friend. She'd been his #1 cheerleader for years and had never been afraid to call him out on his shit.

So yeah, he loved the Rocky crew…but they laughed at anyone who took anything too seriously. Mary would show up to game nights in his latest creation—with everyone else in pjs or jeans & hoodies—and they'd tease him about trying to impress the wrong people. He'd try to talk about the newest guitar god he'd been mainlining, and they'd make snoring noises at him.

How could he explain the kinship he felt with the Deathbutantes? That they were as serious about music as he was, that they just…got why he felt the need to dress the way he did to express the way he felt inside on his outside.

Instead, he said, "I'm just trying shit out, Ambs." He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I gotta do something while you guys do your real-person jobs."

(Amber had recently started as a junior marketing assistant at the American Repertory Theater. "Purely mercenary," she'd said. "Maybe it'll give me a leg up during auditions.")

She made a disgruntled scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

"Fuck, don't remind me. I actually gotta go to bed a reasonable hour now."

"Don't worry." Mary winked at her. "I'll keep ya honest."

"That sounds a lot like my head in a toilet, Mare."

"I'll hold your hair back."

She gave him a good-natured shove, and he pretended to cower.

If she wanted to cross pollinate, who was Mary to stand in her way? So, he invited her out the next time the Deathbutantes went to a show, and it went exactly like he thought it would.

They disliked her, and she was equally unimpressed. They thought she was too loud and frenetic, and she thought they had no sense of humor.

"I fucking told you," Mary had snorted as they sat on the curb sharing a clove.

"Shut the fuck up, Mare."

But she'd put her head on his shoulder.

"They make you happy, though. So I guess I approve. Just as long as I don't have to play nice."

Mary still hung out with the Rocky crew—there were still game nights and drug-fueled sex parties and theater games—but the Deathbutantes introduced him to the underground scene. They always seemed to have insider knowledge about the best up-in-coming bands and the secret shows. Theme nights at the goth clubs were always a must, and they rarely missed one. Sometimes, Angelique would crash, and they'd take the commuter rail to Providence to party at Club Hell before collapsing in a sweaty, smeary pile at a friend of a friend's hole in the wall.

As a bit player in the Rocky crew, Mary had been another made-up face in the crowd. As a certified member of the Deathbutantes, Mary became the face.

They all did.

The owners loved them because they bought round after round at the bar, and if word got out that the Deathbutantes were there, their admirers came to spend money as well. The employees loved them because they were fun and talked to them as equals. The clientele loved them because they were pretty young things.

Sometimes, though, Mary wasn't in the mood to party or get laid, so he talked to the DJs instead. He'd buy them rounds and stay past closing to help them pack up while they talked about the history of punk and 80s new wave and nu metal. There was one in particular, Dave, that Mary even considered a friend.

The two of them would sit in the club past closing, sharing a whiskey and talking about life while the bartenders closed down and cashed out. Occasionally, Dave's other friends would be around, and they'd all walk back to his place; he'd fool around spinning in his home studio, and they'd drink box wine as they danced and laughed before Mary would have to sit on the ground in an intoxicated exhaustion, good for only thumbing through Dave's vinyl collection.

Mary was just happy to talk shop with another music aficionado, but Angelique had pointed out that he should leverage his minor clout.

They'd been waiting for Greg to finish setting up, and Mary had been struggle city after a particularly hard night out. It was all he could manage to sit there quietly and hope some god would put him out of his misery.

"You need to get your shit together," Angelique had said out of nowhere.

Mary had cracked a puffy eye and had slowly (as to not bring the nothing in his stomach back up) turned his head to her.

"As if I haven't seen your melted ass on the floor wanting to die."

"Fuck, Mary. You've turned it into an art form."

He'd closed his eyes and given her the finger, but that hadn't stopped her.

"You wanna be a rockstar, boy? You can't just sit on your ass and hope the right person on the right night hears you. You're effervescent and charismatic—heads turn when you walk into a room and not just because of your skinny jeans—but you need more than air, Mary, which is all you are right now."

"Fuck you, Angela."

She'd clapped in front of his face, and she was lucky he didn't Exorcist bile all over her.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, Goore. I'm doling out the good stuff, try not to bite my hand off, k?"

"All right, all right!"

"You wanna start that band? You wanna get play and amass fans? Well, make that demo you're always droning on about and give it to those DJs you're alway fanboying over. Fucking network, Goore."

At the time, Mary had been too hungover to care, but her advice would sink in…

Eventually.

For the time being, Mary was content. He loved the attention, and it made him feel invincible, made him feel like it was finally His Time. And he was going to make up for every slight, every unfair situation, and every beat down with sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

With his newfound nightlife, Mary's day job had become an afterthought. He started sleeping through opening shifts, but with the extra foot traffic Mary brought to the store, his boss seemed resigned to let Mary slide (after a stern talking to and a pay docking).

The shadow cast had started using him as a mascot of sorts, and he was happy to show up on Saturday nights and hype up the waiting line with a pseudo striptease. (Even if it was sometimes to kick off his evening with the Deathbutantes and not hang with the cast after.)

Mary started a band ("auditioning" any and all of the many admirers who said they’d be more than happy to join it), and after a few false starts and a couple of lineup changes, they began working on an EP. (At least, when Mary showed up to rehearsal, they did.)

A Boston Phoenix reporter got wind of the Deathbutantes and called around about doing a story on them. The Bens were excited about the exposure that meant for their zine, and Angelique and Greg were excited about what it could mean for their careers. Mary did a brief interview over the phone where he answered questions about his style and talked about his dream of making his band a household name.

Mary saw his name up in lights, and he was reaching for it, full speed ahead.

But then things turned.

The story fell through at the last minute with no further explanation or contact by the reporter.

His boss finally fired him after Mary showed up too high to function too many times—or not at all.

The shadow cast had a turnover, and suddenly he was old news—a cringey hanger-on.

A trip to the clinic and a round of antibiotics for an STI had him way more wary of who he hooked up with.

"Heroes" lost momentum when imitators popped up and Ben cut off the gravy train.

Angelique moved to NYC for "better opportunities," and the Bens took their brand of counterculture to Portland, OR.

Greg took down the website when he got offered a legit job as an apprentice at a food magazine, and that was that.

The physical zines were cheap things, most ending up papering the sidewalk after trash day or lining the bottom of cages. Without the online presence, did Mary's "modeling career" even exist?

Mary was a little sad to see the era go, but when he woke up in Maine on the hood of some girl's car and only a hazy recollection of how they'd gotten there, he was beginning to see Angelique's point. He needed to get his shit together if he was ever going to become a rockstar. And frankly, he kind of felt like he needed to spend an entire month eating carrots and hydrating.

The 24/7 party had always been an ephemeral thing; it had been sand passing through his hands in a finite amount as he'd tried to hold onto it

He put himself on detox, and waking up sober for the first time in months felt like a revelation. And as it turned out, playing the guitar without badly shaking hands was way, way easier.

He found another job in another music store, and his starter!band was bringing butts into the smaller venues, like Toad.

He still had his old Rocky friends and the Deathbutantes. The club and venue owners still let him in for free, and Dave was always happy to give his demos a spin. By anyone's else's measure, he was steal one of the scene's darlings.

But Mary was beginning to realize that he needed to stop seeing himself as that scared kid who’d arrived in Boston 4 years ago with only a backpack, $72.57 to his name, and void where his family should be.

He needed to stop finding people to please into loving him.

Instead, he needed to live for himself and let them love him for who he was—fuck ups and all.

@slimylayne

Epilogue

"Honestly, that’s probably the reason I even got a band together," he says. "I was still kind of shit at guitar, but people came to see ‘Model Mary’ perform in his underwear."

He shoots me a smirk.

"I’m sure there’re pictures out there of me looking more glam than metal. I kind of played up the whole pinup thing for a while."

"Fuck, I would kill, literally kill to see that."

He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him.

"I could open up my underwear drawer and show you right now."

"Goore, you temptress."

I lean down to kiss him, and his hands sneak under my shirt, but I pull away again.

"I kinda thought I knew all your torrid secrets by now. Shit, how come Dave's never needled you about it?"

After 2 years with him, I’m surprised I hadn't even heard a peep from his oldest friend.

Mary snorts.

"Dave would miss shit hanging off his nose. Great dude, amiable as fuck, but he's always had fucking tunnel vision for his music."

I smirk at him.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

Mary pulls a face at me, and I apply kisses to every line until he laughs and bats me away.

"But really, Mare—how come you never told me about your brief career in blue steel?"

He blows out a breath, his hands smoothing up my thighs.

"Fuck. Cuz maybe I was a little embarrassed at how off the rails I was then, ok? Didn't want you to know what I fuck up I was." He takes my hand and kisses my palm. "And even I know it's a shit move to pitch woo at someone by telling them about banging half of Boston."

I make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought."

His hands rest on my waist.

"Christ, everything about that year's a bit fuzzy, and it was like 10 years ago. Sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, honestly. And shit—most of those people aren’t even around anymore. College kids who moved on and 20-somethings that grew up and moved who knows where. I used to watch Amber have—what is it when it’s four people?—and now she lives in bumblefuck Pennsylvania with 3 kids. After she left, I just kinda drifted away from all that."

He shrugs, his eyes downcast.

"I’m sorry, Mare," I say as I smooth his eyebrows.

He shrugs again.

"I mean, we all kinda keep in touch. It's like the only reason I have Facebook."

"When was the last time you even signed into that?"

Mary grins at me.

"Lola's birthday."

"One of the models? What happened with them?"

Mary bites his lip and thinks.

"Mayhem found religion after an OD and kinda ghosted everyone. Lesley followed a girl to New Hampshire. Uh…Lola pursued a PhD for something sciencey involving renewable energy with sugar beets in Idaho, and Bryan moved back to Florida to care for his grandma, who raised him."

Mary leans his head back on the couch and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I mean, shit. We were fucking babies back then. Head empty except for a good time and unlimited potential."

I run my fingers through his hair.

"You miss it?"

His eyes pop open to look at me.

"Fuck no. Not for a million dollars. Too many question marks." His eyes glint as he runs his hands down me. "I like what I got going on right here."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. The fucking sap.

Mary picks up my phone and scrolls through the pictures again.

"Fuck. I used to be goddamn adorable, though. Half this shit wouldn’t even fit me anymore."

I squish his little potbelly, and he grunts at me indignantly.

"Do you still have any originals?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wistful and his smile sad.

"Nah. Got destroyed when my roof collapsed and leaked everywhere. Fuck, landlords are useless. Glad we fucking own now, babe."

He scrolls up, scrolls back down.

"Just these four?"

I nod.

"Yeah. They were the only ones I found—and I did a lot of searching."

"Christ, I think there were at least 10."

I smile ruefully at him. "It’s not gonna be long anyway before they make their way into the popular tags and shit starts coming out of the woodwork."

He tosses my phone onto the table.

"Whatever. Just shows that I’ve always been cool."

And then he’s kissing me again, his hand tangling in my hair.

"You know, I’m your family now, Mare. Just for you."

He brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Fuck, I know that. Why’dja think I put a ring on it?"

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 39 - Dinner Party

Title: Irreverent Pt. 39 - Dinner Party Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: 5812

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Clyde was handling another assignment so you were working out of Quantico for the time being. You'd learned really quickly that not everyone had a Penelope Garcia at their disposal and you needed to skill up fast. You'd bribed her with concert tickets and a very handsome Elliot Greenberg as her escort in exchange for teaching you the basics.

Elliot worked for the white collar crime unit in New York after the BAU rejection and had recently made the transition to Quantico for sex crimes. The two of you had kept in touch over the years and he'd hit you up when he'd moved back. He'd broken up with his girlfriend back in New York for the job - which really just told you the girlfriend hadn't mattered all that much. Elliot was smart, good looking, and doing well at work but you knew he also had a nerdy streak that Garcia would appreciate.

It was kind of fun being on the other side of a case and watching Penelope in action. You figured it would be easiest to learn on the job so you'd stayed holed up in her office and the two of you worked together with the team on a case. She taught you how to do some of the less complex stuff and you got to flirt with Hotch anytime he called for an update - it was a win-win really.

When they got back, he'd decided to have everyone be home for a week and do reports and consults to coincide with your schedule. No one was really complaining about a week of no travel.

Aaron had gotten home before you as you'd had a late afternoon meeting with McKinney to update him on your progress. When you walk in, you can smell roasted spices wafting from the kitchen. Aaron had always enjoyed foods from other cuisines but with you he'd really embraced cooking it as well, since you'd lived all over and had curated your own recipes over the years. If your nose wasn't mistaken, he was trying his hand at your Chicken Vindaloo recipe.

You walk into the kitchen to see him wearing an apron and manning the stove while Jack sits at the island doing his homework.

"Hi baby." You greet Jack and place a quick kiss to his head before going over to observe Aaron's handiwork - it smelled pretty good and he already had the rice cooker going as well. Jack mumbled a hello and you could tell something was off. You raise an eyebrow at Aaron who mouths "Soccer" to you, peaking a glance backwards at Jack's head bent over his worksheets.

Aaron and you had decided to sign him up for soccer lessons, figuring it was a good age to get him into team sports and be a little more active in a structured setting. Apparently he wasn't taking it too well, though you couldn't fathom why.

You take a quick taste from the spatula that Aaron had been using to stir and add a little pinch of salt to the pan. He throws you a mock glare. "I was getting to it," he mutters, shooing you away.

You leave him to the cooking and go sit at the island by Jack. Grabbing a tangerine from the fruitbowl, you peel it and break off a piece. "Orange for your thoughts?" you ask Jack.

You can see him hesitate but he still reaches out for the small slice, putting his pencil down. "I don't want to do Soccer," he confesses, reaching for another piece. Aaron's back is turned and he appears to be bustling around the kitchen.

"What part of it do you not want to do?" You pop a piece of tangerine into your own mouth as well.

He seems to consider your question as he chews on another piece. "It seems messy and the other kids seem mean."

You and Aaron had taken Jack by the soccer field a couple of weeks ago and you realize he's referring to the mud covered kids all pushing one another. Jack was a sweet and sensitive kid and you could understand how that was maybe a stressful situation for him. But you also wanted him to give it a shot because it would be good to do some team activities - help him make some more friends and be more active.

"It does seem kind of messy," you agree. "But I don't think the other kids will be mean. You're good at making friends and as long as you're nice to them they'll be nice to you."

He thinks over your response and you know you can seal the deal. "If you don't like it after you give it a fair shot, then we can discuss. Is that okay?" Jack was a reasonable kid and you and Aaron tried to give him choices as much as possible.

"Okay, Y/N." Jack nods, grabbing the last piece of tangerine from your palm.

"You know," you lean in a bit to Jack, lowering your voice, "your family has a special history with soccer fields."

"We do?" He quirks an eyebrow at you and he looks so much like Aaron in that moment. The cheeks are all Haley but the expression is completely Aaron.

"Well, you know how your parents met, of course," you confirm with mock seriousness.

Jack smiles and nods. "Pirate #4"

You laugh, ruffling Jack's hair. Aaron had kept his word to Haley and he did his best to make her a part of Jack's life as much as you could. But you had a feeling this wasn't a story Jack knew yet. Jack had been obsessed with all of the Disney movies lately so you know he'd appreciate a good romance story.

"Yes, your parents met during the play. But your dad was quite the young soccer star when he was in high school." You look and see that Aaron is adding the finishing touches to dinner and undoubtedly listening in. Jack has turned fully to face you, bringing his chair a little bit closer to yours.

"Well, your mom started to go watch him practice and go to his games. After a game where your dad scored the winning goal," you pause as Jack hangs on every word, "they were hanging out on the field and your dad finally plucked up the courage and asked your mom to be his girlfriend."

"That's pretty cool, I guess." He smiles, turning to look at his dad. "But not as cool as Buttercup and Wesley. Can we watch The Princess Bride again after dinner?"

You and Aaron laugh as he nods and tells Jack to go get washed up for dinner. The three of you had already watched The Princess Bride a couple of times and Aaron insisted that Inigo Montoya looked exactly like his old boss, Gideon. He'd pulled up pictures to show you, but you just didn't see it. It was probably the longest argument the two of you had had in recent memory.

As Jack leaves, Aaron turns to look at you, his face identical to Jack's from earlier, eyebrow quirked just the same. You know he's wondering how you knew that story about him and Haley because it sure hadn't been from him.

"Jess and I bonded while you were gone," you explained with a small smile. "He should know your love story."

Aaron nods as you get up to get changed for dinner yourself. He adores that you go above and beyond to make sure that Jack feels connected to Haley. Sometimes, though, he worries that you end up minimizing your role in his and Jack's life in the process.

As far as Aaron was concerned, Jack got to be witness to his favorite love story.

*------------*

With the whole team at home base for the coming week, you and Aaron decided to host the long postponed dinner party that you had initially aimed to have as your relationship reveal party. Between the team jumping the gun on you and then all of the work and cases, it had gotten pushed back indefinitely. However, now seemed like the right time to do it. You'd planned it for the end of the week when both Henry and Jack were invited to a birthday sleepover and all of the adults had the next day off.

Emily, Derek, and Penelope were all bringing dates. Rossi was seeing Strauss but knew better than to invite her to a team thing. You still remembered worming that particular secret out of Aaron. You had known something was up when you'd happened to catch his face when Rossi told him. You'd been too far to actually hear what caused that face, so you'd brought it up later. In his defense, he'd valiantly tried to protect Rossi's secret, but you had your ways. When he'd finally given in and told you, you regretted having tried so hard to get it out of him. Rossi and Strauss. Just the thought of it made you shudder.

However, with that large of a group, you decided to get some outside help, though you'd still make dessert. You'd left for lunch to go meet with the caterer, taking Rossi along with you since he'd actually be helpful. Aaron was in some budget meetings through lunch anyways and you'd grabbed him a salad on the way back. You thanked Rossi for joining you and he took Aaron's food up with him as you turned to see Derek and Emily hanging out by her desk.

"Hey, so what'd Hotch mess up?" Derek asks as he sees you.

You're confused for a second as to what he means but then you catch sight of the large bouquet of flowers on your desk. Your heart stops. You recognize that arrangement - the ostentatious roses arranged artfully. You'd forgotten what day it was. After he missed last year, you'd thought he'd forgotten - that he'd moved past it finally. This was the first time they'd arrived at the office. Usually it was sent to your home so you could deal with it in private.

You approach your desk not bothering to look for a note. Quickly, you pick them up and place the bouquet in your trash can, in the hope that no one else would see them. Both Derek and Emily eye you curiously.

You have to make sure your voice will come out steadily before you speak. "They're not from Aaron."

You hope they'll just go back to their conversation as you sit down in your chair, your mind whirling. You'd have to deal with this situation. Him sending them to work was an obvious escalation and to what end, you couldn't be sure.

From the corner of your eye, you see Derek stand from his spot on Emily's desk. He walks towards you with purpose and before you can stop him, he's reached into the trash can and fished out the note.

"Matthew? He's sending you flowers?" His voice is low and he looks troubled, holding the note in his hands and taking a seat on your desk instead. Seemed like him and Emily had decided he'd deal with it, as she was conspicuously missing, leaving just you and Derek in the bullpen.

You sigh internally. It had been too much to hope that they would've just ignored it. "It's our anniversary," you explain, looking around and making sure there wasn't anyone else around. "He didn't take the break up well. Now he sends flowers every year to torture me - though usually he's tactful enough to send them to the house."

Your revelation does nothing to ease Derek's mind. If anything he looks even more worried now than before. "So he's escalating. Trying to get your attention."

"He's not going to actually do anything," you say, trying to sound reassuring. "I can handle it, Derek." You place a hand on his knee closest to you and look firmly up at him. The last thing you needed was for Derek to be all worried and nosey about the situation. Or worse, for him to tell… "Do not tell Aaron."

He looks at you as though you're stupid and you can tell he's going to argue with you, but you really don't want to bother Aaron with this. Not in the one week you guys have at home together. "I mean it, Derek. He has a thousand other things to worry about. My sociopath ex does not need to be one of them."

Derek frowns and you know he's racing through the thousand cases you guys have done on stalker exes and escalation. Luckily for you, Matthew was too lazy to actually stalk anyone. Unluckily, he still found the time to order you flowers to remind you that he'd once been a very large part of your life. You didn't even like roses. With a glance up to Hotch's office, Derek nods, knowing he won't be able to convince you otherwise right now. He drops the note back into the trash can as Emily returns and you all go back to pretending to work.

It's late afternoon when you hear Hotch calling your name from the upstairs landing. "Y/N, can you come up here please?"

You'd gotten very little done, your mind whirling with what to do about the Matthew situation. You just wanted it to be over. You briefly wonder if Aaron wants to talk about the meeting with the caterers or Jack's schedule for the following week when the two of you will both be away. You enter his office, closing the door behind you.

"Hey, what's going on?" You walk in and take a seat on his couch. The blinds facing the bullpen are closed, but the ones facing outside are open, casting a warm glow around the room. Curiously, he hasn't moved back to his desk and is standing in front of you, with a concerned look on his face.

"When were you going to tell me about the Matthew situation?" he asks, placing his left hand on his hip and looking every bit the part of SSA Aaron Hotchner instead of your boyfriend.

You let out a breath. You couldn't believe Derek had told him, after you'd specifically asked him not to. And now he had that furrowed brow and the concerned face and he has a deadline from Strauss on the new budget. This wasn't what he needed right now and you knew it would distract from everything else.

You grit your teeth and stand up, ignoring his voice, and open the door to his office to scan the bullpen until you catch sight of who you're looking for. "Agent Morgan," you call out, "could you please join us up here?"

Derek looks up at you before he quickly walks upstairs and enters Hotch's office. He goes and stands by Hotch while you close the door once again, undoubtedly knowing what this was about. The two of them made quite the image - frowns marring both of their faces though Aaron's was less pronounced. I knew moisturizing was a good call.

Squaring your shoulders, you cross your arms across your chest, facing the two of them. "Figured it was more efficient to just talk to you both together. Save you the trouble of finding each other afterwards," you say, your tone hinting at how annoyed you were. Not that either one of them had the decency to look ashamed. If anything they looked defiant.

Aaron started to speak but you cut him off.

"You two need to realize that I can handle my own problems. If I say Matthew isn't an issue, trust me. If I say I have it handled, believe me that I do."

"No." You expected that, but not from Derek. Maybe from Aaron, but not from Derek.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, no. Not with our jobs. Not knowing what we do. I'll tell Hotch, I'll tell the whole team. The more people on the lookout the better."

"I -"

"Morgan's right. So, let's figure out what to do."

"There's nothing to do. He sent flowers, not a bomb. Leave it alone. If the worst thing he does is send me flowers once a year - well people have dealt with worse. You're both overreacting."

"You expect us to do nothing? What about when he escalates?"

"He won't!"

"You can't possibly know that." His entire demeanor is stiff and tense and he's aggravated with you for not taking this as seriously as he is.

"I was with him for four years, Aaron. Trust me. I know him. He has nothing to gain from an escalation and everything to lose. He's married, he doesn't exactly want me back. He just hates that I dumped him and once a year he remembers that and gets pissed off and drunk and in his own passive aggressive way, chooses to do this. It's not worth any of us wasting a second more of our time on!"

Derek looks like he'd rather be anywhere but standing in the middle of the two of you at that moment.

Aaron breathes out slowly before he speaks, as though if he takes a moment it'll prevent him from shaking you into seeing it his way. "I still would like for the team to be on alert. Just in case." It would appear he'd decided on the reasonable approach.

You groan, but know that's the best you're about to get. At your nod, Aaron and Derek exchange a look before Derek moves to leave the room.

"Hey," you stop him as his hand touches the doorknob. "Next time I ask you to not tell my crazy, overprotective boyfriend something. Just don't."

He grimly shakes his head at you. "No promises."

You narrow your eyes at him. The two of you will be discussing this later.

Turning away from you, he nods at Hotch before opening the door and closing it behind him.

Aaron sighs before sitting down on the couch next to you. "Why wouldn't you just tell me?" he asks, as though he's afraid of the answer.

You know he's genuinely worried about you and grasping at the implication of you not telling him about this. You reach across the couch cushion and grab his hand, squeezing it. His fingers intertwine with yours instantly.  

"Aaron, if I thought - for even a second- that this was some sort of actual threat, you'd be the first person I'd tell."

Which was the truth. If there was any chance that Matthew was a threat to Aaron or Jack, you'd have told him immediately. As it stood, however, your ex boyfriend was nothing more than a coward who got off on his little annual psychological warfare.

He nods, his mouth a straight line.

You spend a few more minutes in his office reassuring him properly (How convenient that the blinds were already shut), before leaving him to finish up the rest of his work.

*------------*

Derek watches from the bullpen as you exit Hotch's office, not a hair out of place, though he could imagine that hadn't been the case a minute earlier. He sees your eyes dart around furtively before making a quick phone call. You say barely two words before hanging up.

*------------*

Ricky Costello had the self-assured charm of a boy who had never questioned his place in life. He'd grown up scrawny and had to learn how to fight and stand up for himself. As he'd grown older and filled out some, people knew better than to pick on him or anyone he was friends with. He was loyal, headstrong, and the smartest of the family - which is why his father had pulled some strings and gotten him into a good school where he could learn something and be of some use to the family.

You'd met Ricky in your accounting class when he'd tried to partner with you for a project, thinking you'd do all the work for him. He'd had to rethink that strategy when you'd shown up at his dorm room, pretended to be his girlfriend to get rid of his flavor of the week, and then promised to continue ruining his chances with every gullible freshman unless he did his share of the work. Needless to say, the two of you had the best project in the class.

You arrived at the bar he'd texted you the address to. It was in a quiet street just off central downtown and at six in the evening, there were only commuters headed back home. No one paid much attention to you as you quickly looked around before entering.

The place was mostly empty save for an older couple seated at a table in the corner. You see Ricky seated at the bar and you make your way towards him. Feeling someone approach, he turns around, a grin breaking out on his face when he sees you.

"Hi Doll," he stands and wraps you in a hug that lifts you off the ground and elicits a small squeal of surprise.

"Hi Ricky." Your face lights up at the sight of him. It had been a while.

He indicates to the bartender for another round, before guiding you to a small table at the other corner of the bar. He pulls out a chair for you as the bartender sets down two glasses of scotch.

"Cheers," he says, lifting his glass and clinking it with yours. "To seeing old friends."

"Cheers," you smile, taking a sip, your eyes studying him. He looked older, the beginnings of grey could be seen near his temples. His leather jacket hugged him just right and he'd grown out his usual stubble into a full, well-kept beard. His smile was still very much him - a little cocky and every bit as affectionate as you remembered it.

The two of you drink for a while as he catches you up on all the drama your old group had gone through recently - the weddings, the breakups, the kids. It was odd to have missed out on all of it.

"So, tell me, why'd you really call?" he asks, leaning back in his chair, his hand playing with the rim of his glass.

You take a breath, mimicking his posture. "Matthew is planning on running for Congress."

He takes in your pursed lips and the tenseness of your shoulders. "I heard," he says slowly, deliberately. "Been meaning to pay him a visit. Congratulate him."

"Congratulate him for me too."

The quirk of his lips tells you he knows why you're telling him this. There was no love lost between Matthew and Ricky. If they were in the same room they were bound to get into it. You'd done your best to keep them sequestered in different parts of your life - however some events were inevitably meant for larger groups.

He nods with a soft laugh, before indicating to the bartender for a second round, which is delivered promptly.

"You should come back, Y/N. Give up the straight laced thing. The crew, we miss you, doll." His voice is earnest and for a moment you see the hint of the boy who'd confided all his secrets to you during study sessions that had bled into the early morning hours.

You smile, and your voice catches ever so slightly. "I've met someone - and well, he's pretty much as straight laced as they come."

Ricky laughs at that and you know he's just a little surprised. "What's his name?"

"Aaron." His name feels right at home in your mouth.

"Nice Catholic boy?" His face is one of boyish teasing.

"I always did have a thing for those," you joke. And you know, you know Ricky will take that in the friendly manner that it was meant.

The two of you wrap up and Ricky closes out the tab before walking you back to your car. As you're about to pull out of the parking spot, he leans into your window, placing the lightest of kisses to your cheek.

"Tell your boy Aaron, he's the luckiest guy in the world."

*------------*

You hear the front door open and close as Aaron arrives, having dropped Jack off at the birthday party sleepover he was invited. You'd spent the day making sure you'd made enough tiramisu for all the guests while both Jack and Aaron snuck bites of it when your back was turned.

You've just finished dusting off the final pan with cocoa powder, when you feel Aaron's arms circle your waist from behind. You have to slap his hand away as it makes its way into the dessert. Him and Jack had polished off half a pan that morning and at this rate, you'd have none left for the actual guests.

"You can't eat all of the dessert before the guests get here. At this rate, you're pretty much cut off from it entirely. I don't think I can make it again if you and Jack are going to be like this," you scold, turning and poking at his stomach.

He doesn't have the decency to look even a little embarrassed. He just smiles and shrugs, his arms encircling your waist again. "I'll just have to find something else to eat instead, I guess."

His words send a spike of heat and desire through you. The two of you had been making the most of being home at the same time and every night had ended with him between your legs - one way or another.

Shaking your head, you escape his hold and move to clear the island for the caterers. He was relentless, however.

"You expect to wear this and have me keep my hands to myself?" His voice is a deep rumble behind you as his arms cage you against the island countertop and his mouth finds your pulse point. He's referring to the off shoulder dress you'd changed into while he'd been gone, highlighting your collarbone magnificently. It flared out from the waist, making you look like the epitome of the perfect housewife you had once been destined to become.

"I'd hoped you'd at least wait till the end of the night," you retort. His arms are warm and his chest firm behind you and you really didn't have it in you to push him away again. You were pretty helpless against him.

"I always like to get a head start." You can hear the humor in his voice as he pushes you against the counter a little more firmly, his arms coming from around you to clear the space right in front.

"Aaron." His name escapes you with a soft sigh as he plants warm kisses along your neck down to your exposed shoulders. He sweeps your hair to the front, lips traveling down your spine as his hands move underneath your dress, finding the waistband of your underwear and then slipping inside to find you wet, warm, and waiting for him.

He lets out a groan at the feel of you and can't help but grind himself against you. He knows he's working against the clock and is surprised you've let him get this far.

You let out a sharp gasp as his thumb presses against your clit and he inserts two fingers deep within you. He had the art of getting you to come, down to a near science. He quickly pumps his fingers in and out, his thumb rubbing your clit in repeated circles. With his other hand he brings your head around and captures your lips. The press of his lips against yours is a feeling you'll never tire of you.

You come embarrassingly quick, fluttering around his fingers, your back arched and your ass grinding into his hard length behind you. He turns you around, his mouth hot and needy against yours. When you pull away, his eyes are blown wide and there's a sheen of sweat on his forehead from the exertion of keeping himself from simply plowing into you.

You make quick work of his belt buckle and help him work his jeans and underwear down, eager to have him in you. With one eye on the clock behind you, he hoists you up to the countertop, placing you on the edge, and enters you swiftly, eliciting a loud groan from you.

"Fuck, sweetheart. Always so ready for me. Always tight…wet." His voice is rough and low and makes the coil in your stomach tighter and your breath come out harsher. He moves efficiently, his head tucked into the crook of your neck and his arms working to keep you balanced on the edge.

His breath is warm against your neck, and he's panting and leave wet open kisses to any skin available to him. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he thrusts into you. You're close and you know he is too based on how irregular his movement is becoming.

You remove one hand from his shoulder, pulling on his hair to move his head enough to reach his mouth in a lazy kiss. He groans into your mouth as he comes, drawing your orgasm out right after, causing you to tremble against him.

As you come down, you're entirely slumped against his chest and he's moved you to sit more firmly on the island. You know you look nowhere near as presentable as you did fifteen minutes prior, but you're finding it hard to be too upset about it.

Still, you can't help but be a little bratty about it. "I'm going to have to redo my makeup," you whine against him.

Laughing breathlessly, he picks you up to carry you upstairs. It was a wonder he had the strength to do that right after. You could barely stand up when he deposited you outside the shower.

The two of you work quickly to get cleaned up and Aaron is the one to let the caterers in as you redo your hair and makeup. You fish out another dress - one with sleeves and a higher neckline. You couldn't afford to be pulled into the coat closet with people around.

*------------*

An hour and a half later, the party is in full swing. Emily had brought Henry Eastwood - Senator Williams's Chief of Staff. The two of you had run into him while out shopping a few weeks back and having recognized you, had come up to say hello. You had a feeling that had Emily not been with you, he would've entirely ignored some girl his boss had dated for a few weeks a year or so ago. However, you couldn't deny that they made a handsome couple.

Penelope had brought Elliot - the two of them had really hit it off and you were happy to see her smiling and laughing with someone. You'd given in and allowed Rossi to bring Strauss and you were pleasantly surprised to see her being on her best behavior around Aaron. Derek had brought Savannah and they were talking to JJ and Will.

You walked to the kitchen to open up another bottle of wine and refill everyone's glasses. It seemed Savannah had followed you, empty glass in hand. Laughing, you top off her glass with the almost empty bottle in hand, before opening the next one.

"Thanks for having everyone over," she says, taking a drink from her glass.

"Of course. Aaron and I honestly meant to do this ages ago, but work got away from us."

You have a feeling Savannah wants to talk to you about something else, however, so you don't say much more, trying to give her the chance to speak up.

She looks around a little nervously, but seems to make up her mind. "You're different for Derek, you know. Different from Emily and Penelope. He's very protective of you."

"I'm protective of him too," you respond softly. You know what she means however. You and Derek had gone through the worst thing in the world together and only came out the other end because of one other.

"Savannah, you have nothing to worry about," you reassure her, knowing that's what she really needed at the moment. Her and Derek hadn't had much time together lately and you could understand feeling insecure. "Derek loves you and you're good for him. You challenge him and you're the first girl I've seen him be so head over heels for."

She smiles and you know that helped a bit. "Thanks."

The two of you each grab a bottle and head back to the main living room. As you pour more wine into Dave's glass, you catch Aaron's eye and you feel warmth pooling in your stomach, the promise of a good night ahead of you. You walk around the room and top off everyone, making sure there's enough appetizers still out.

Derek offers to help you carry back the empty platters and follows you into the kitchen. "So, I heard something interesting today," he says, placing the platters on the counter.

You hum, as you grab more of the stuffed mushrooms from the warmer and arrange them on the empty platter.

"Cops responded to a call about a break in in New Hampshire, placed by someone's neighbor," he pauses and he knows you're listening. "When they get there, guy living in the house was obviously beat up, but his wife seemed alright. Just a little shaken up. Funny thing is - dude refused to press charges, even though cops could tell that the house had been broken into."

Your posture has gotten incredibly stiff as he spoke. He knows. You don't say anything, simply look at him apprehensively.

"Tell me," he continues, "what's the Italian mob's going rate to put the fear of God in someone?"

You take a breath, before meeting his eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh yeah, you wouldn't. Probably get the friends and family discount," he trails off, grabbing the platter and walking out of the kitchen.

Crap. He really did know. He knew about Ricky. Which meant he'd probably gotten Penelope involved as well.

Quickly composing yourself, you carry the other platter out, joining him by the appetizer table.

"Derek - "

"Don't worry. Garcia won't say anything."

You look at him, and you know he won't either.

"Thank you."

He nods, popping another mushroom in his mouth and smiling at you. He wouldn't be doubting you again when you said you had something under control.

He wouldn't tell anyone. When Hotch asks him later about the Matthew situation, all he'd say was that it was handled. Hotch would pause, look at him, but then trust Morgan to know that it was really handled.

[friggsdc]

Title: little delinquent pt iv

part iii | part iv

Warnings: Female!reader (bat!sis), mostly plot with family fluff, AU, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 4600~

Synop: It had Bruce and Dick sharing a look for a moment before the latter spoke up, “It’s not like I’m against continuing to expand the family, but…” he eyed the child you held nervously, “please don’t start bringing home every child you find…” he tilted his head, “he’s bad enough.” Bruce settled a light glare at his first son (that definitely wasn’t what Bruce was thinking), though Dick was stilled by the way your eyes narrowed at him instead.

“His name is Terrence,” that was all you said, brushing past as they were suddenly on guard at the inherited Wayne-scowl on your face.

---

 A/N: ee;;;; enjoy me not knowing what this plot is, idk tbh, but it’s fun to write. It’s more plot than fluff, which wasn’t what i meant to write sighs. I’ll probably write companion pieces to this that’s zero plot all fluff. The plot wasn’t meant to be so deep, but I mean, uhm… enjoy papa Bruce and mama Alfred~ 

---

[bigR] Dad’s upset.

[bigR] He’s talking less than usual, not even grunts.

[bigR] I think he’s ignoring me?

[you] crap

[bigR] Worse, there’s no news.

No news? True, you hadn’t seen the info feeds light up, the networks had been offline all day, but nothing from Tim’s side? If you didn’t hate Luthor before, well…

[you] this is giving me a headache ::dizzy_emoji::

[bigR] No kidding, I think he’s figuring a few things out.

[bigR] Patrol with B, everything’s unlocked, bb @ late.

[you] is typing…

             “You sure it’s okay?”

The taller male gave quite the toothy grin, a large hand coming up to pull the awkwardly fitted shirt collar back to center, admiring your new outfit. “You can just bring it back later, besides, I think it’s cuter this way.” After a few hours and an incredibly long phone call between Jason, Tim and yourself, the three of you combined were able to get the suit to come off. 

Tim said he still had a lot to go over, but that the laptop was actually incredibly useful. Much of what Tim had been talking (and geeking) about had been lost on Jason and you, too focused on Terry and wrangling the alien suit off.

Jason said he’d be jealous of the strange futuristic-like material if it weren’t for the second skin-like fit, happily poking fun at Nightwing’s taste in suits.

Most of the work was done on Tim’s side since he apparently already had the ability to take control of the suit. It was something you were rather… anxious about, but unlike the manor, Jason’s place had the advantage of no Bruce and no cameras.

So now you sat in the same pair of pants you’d come over in, the only pair of flip-flops he had. They were far too large for you, but your toes would have to hang on till home, and a large t-shirt that fit well enough. 

“Muscle up, Buttercup” was written on the front, Superman’s flexed arm between the words.

“Your taste in clothes is…”

“Cheap. Like second-hand cheap.”

“But… why…”

“To spite Bruce? I pay more for job-related injuries than money I actually have, it’s been tempting me to go back to crime, honestly.”

“…you sure that’s not to spite Bruce as well?”

“I mean,” he shrugged, an impish grin on his face as he lightly ruffled the top of your hair, causing you to childishly swat his hand away, “isn’t that what everyone else does? It’s fun, you should try it sometime.”

“Uh-huh…” you were honestly too much of a—

“Daddy’s girl,” he snorted lightly, unimpressed.

Before slipping one of Jason’s unused backpacks on, you stuffed the batsuit in the bottom, and the jacket you arrived in on top. Turning just in time to see him picking up Terrence’s sleeping form with incredible gentleness, you cooed lightly.

“You know, you’re not bad at that,” he looked at you, frowning, ears flushing before his attention went back to the bundle in his arms.

“Not even…” instead of moving to take the child from him, you opted to stand still and just watch the interaction instead, as if a point were being made.

Big boy looked like he was terrified of breaking the child in his arms, like an heirloom British teacup, “You look cute like that, a giant teddy bear and a tiny uh... new bat?” Walking over, he turned his eyes to the side, not a single trace of anger towards the situation in his voice anymore, “don’t get used to it,” he muttered, unsure of himself. “But you could get used to it,” you smiled, taking the giant marshmallow from him, “he’ll be around from now on, you know. You’ll have uncle duties~” Your teasing only increased his rising timidness, “right…”

“Well,” he began, heading to the door once you had everything, “I’m already late for patrol, let’s get you home.”

-

Alfred had greeted you at the door and mentioned putting on some tea, and you gladly accepted, though not before you went up and changed. With the promise to be back downstairs in a few minutes, he took Terrence from you to ready him for bed. Adorable child was actually quite active, having tired himself out at Jason’s temporary housing.

Quickly, you’d headed to Tim’s room to empty the contents of your bag in his faraday cage, hoping that it was secure enough being in his room. Once you’d locked the safe’s door, you headed out of his room and down the hall to your own. Sorry Jay, but the shoes were uncomfortable, and the shirt kept trying to strangle you more than the shirt of a giant should. Pajamas sounded wonderful right now.

The now empty backpack was tossed to the side near where Duke had left the your clothes from earlier in the day, and a few immediate items for Terrence. You figured everything else was probably in the nursery now, hoping it was all waiting for you in the next few days. The awkward clothes you’d worn over the suit had been tossed on your day clothes, and then Jason’s shirt and shoes were dropped on top.

The shower was quick, and having changed into a fresh pair of pajamas, you suddenly felt sluggish, your shoulders now heavy with tightness. Come to think of it, your thighs also felt rather wobbly, like jelly… but the only strenuous activity you can remember doing in all honesty was… base jumping… was it the wings? It’s all you could honestly come up with. Maybe you weren’t used to such a thing yet, and as you rubbed your shoulders, you headed back downstairs to the sitting room. “Nn…”

“Sore?”

It was still too early for anyone scary to be home right now, so…

You nodded, collapsing on the small sitting couch, Alfred going to stand from his seat to fix you a cup of tea from the tray on the table. “I did a dumb thing today. I’m not certain if I regret it or not.” He handed you the tea plate and cup before returning to his original position on a rather regal looking chair, “I’ve already put the Little Master to bed for the evening. The Young Masters went to bed awhile ago, though I suspect, they are not, actually sleeping.” He gave an amused hum at the thought of Damian and Jon and what they were totally not doing. 

He definitely hadn’t noticed when they’d snuck out earlier. Nope, not at all.

It was a long day filled with heightened emotions, anxiety, stress, confusion, and at the end of it, you were just so tired, and Alfred had always been your confidant next to Tim, and—

You tried to keep quiet as you spoke.

“I jumped out of a really tall building. Like… ninety feet up? I’m not certain, I was watching my life flash before my eyes.” He sighed and frowned into his own tea, “Master Bruce has already left for the night, Master Tim is accompanying him, as the boys are… supposed to be here for a night off. I really had hoped you’d grown up to be more intelligent and not as reckless as your brothers.” Or your father, Alfred mused, sipping at his tea, pinky out, the proper macaroni gentlebutler he was.

“I mean, I panicked, I was in a batsuit, I had a lot of intel on me, like, literally stole a laptop and backed up something called Project B (whatever that meant, though you had your suspicions having met Conner), there was a ton of guards outside going from door to door… I don’t have the same muscle mass to fight like my militant brothers, I was scared of what would happen if they caught me, like dad’s reputation?, I may have been overwhelmed by the—”

“—batsuit?” Ah, you looked up from your tea with wide eyes to see him staring, uncertain if the twinkle in his eye was worry or mischief. “Yeah, that. Uhm… Please don’t tell dad,” you sat up straight, gave him your biggest crocodile tears, and were about to clasp your hands together like a beggar before he waved your antics off. “I would not, not unless it endangers your life, Young Miss, you know that. Including young Master Terrence, of course.”

“This afternoon I must ponder over, What you did was, how shall I say, not okay,” he spoke, stern.

He stood to walk over, seating himself next to you while smiling gently, “though I must admit, I am quite curious as to the story behind all of this.” You gave your own small smile as you stared at your tea, “Yeah. I still don���t know all of it yet, myself, but… it’s actually really cool…” The two of you spoke in hushed tones.

Bruce may have been your father, but much like him, you were raised by Alfred, and seeing as you usually weren’t allowed out on the field like the others, your disposition was as Alfred’s was; support. It was something your brothers and father relished in when they had any extra time over the years. You loved to spoil them, and they were readily eager for it. 

It was also thanks to Alfred that you’d learned you had a unique knack for espionage.

Your brothers were raised to protect themselves and others, getting to go out nightly on risky (and deadly) vigilantism escapades. More than that, they not only got to be of use to your father, but they were able to grow up around him, their lives dedicated to the same purpose.

To say you were jealous was an understatement, often worrying Dick and Jay at times.

To say you were your father’s daughter and just as like-minded as him was also an understatement. This was something Tim and Damian understood better than your two eldest siblings.

You were determined as heck.

You graduated from avoiding Alfred’s detection to stalking your father and brothers, skills honed even further as you learned how to use their toys and listen in on their coms system. It was your father’s own fault, leaving you alone all the time.

You would never be useless again.

You would never be left behind again.

“So, your brothers are helping you, then? I am glad of that, it means I need not worry as much,” even though Jason and Damian only knew half the truth, it was Tim who knew everything you did. Duke didn’t want to know and apparently Jon’s dad had warned him not to get involved with “bat business,” and Alfred… “If… If Terry’s parents…” how were you supposed to frame this part, exactly? You ere bothered by the truth of it, so... maybe making it sound worse than it was? If that was even possible... “if they were bad people, like really bad people,” as if suddenly remembering the walls had ears, you lowered your head and voice, barely audible for him to hear, “do you think dad would let me keep him?”

The both of you knew that wasn’t the issue, Bruce had no problem with the child staying, but…

There was something about the boy that seemed to be worrying you…

“If there is one thing I take great pleasure and joy in,” Alfred beamed like the proud father he was, “it’s that at least one of you children turned out more like myself than Master Bruce.” No, honestly, he was so glad you weren’t gloom and doom like your father and siblings, “I’m certain you could tame the wildest of beasts.”

His parentage held no ground here, the two of you understood the meaning behind the words, memories of when Damian met you for the first time after arriving at the manor surfacing, “I think you’ll do just fine with the child. I have all the confidence in the world.”

Maybe you were being overly paranoid about the whole situation.

The evening was finished in comfortable companionship between the two of you, and he’d shoo you away to bed long before it was time for the boys to come home.

After cleaning up and assuring himself that at least someone in the manor went to bed properly, he busied himself with the surveillance of the manor.

He made certain you wouldn’t be caught just because of his curiosities.

-

Through part of the night, you’d begun doing as much research into the relationship between Luthor and CADMUS as you had time for, the past few days having been spent going over only CADMUS information. That was until you got a ping on Luthor’s name written on several specific checks, and gathering as much information available. You looked for key phrases in the news cycle over the past day’s incident, as well as dating back several months. You’d even taken the chip out of your work phone and popped it into the laptop sitting on the bed in front of you, allowing network protocols to take over.

There was only so much the news would give you, so you checked in on security feeds from the area, keywords during phone calls used to see if anyone noticed, satellite intel snapshots, everything. Anything.

The time-sensitive channels still hadn’t opened, no information from other informants was anywhere in the Societies channel logs, not even the time-delayed backlogs.

Someone else was cleaning up.

-

Early morning, the best time to avoid anyone in the manor who had a night life, also just in time to get breakfast as Alfred made the first batch of the day. Though mostly for himself, he’d generally make extras as you’d often join. Heading down the foyer stairs, Terry’s barely conscious form bundled in your arms, you beelined to the kitchen, the smell your guide. “Ah, good morning Young Miss! I even made some for the Little Master, just in case,” Alfred smiled down at the boy in your arms, holding up a small bowl of minced and steamed veggies.

The kitchen was large for an older-modeled mansion, constantly rebuilt with minimal changes, but still cozy and incredibly sustainable. Between the door to the foyer and the opposite wall, where the door to the dining room was, there was a large table. Several shopping lists, foodstuffs, and cookware took up a good portion, but there as still enough room for a small few people to sit comfortably at once.

You smiled, sitting down in the chair the older male pulled out for you, then pushing you in, food for the child set on the table. You situated Terry in your arms, finding a nice spot to rest his bottom without worry of him slipping off, and reached over to spoon some of his meal to him.

Strangely, he didn’t resist much, yawning in between bites as you had to scoop up what tried to spill out of his mouth, “so, how old might you say he is? I’ve been thinking about it, perhaps about a year?” you nodded as you looked up, agreeing with Alfred as he sat down, food cooking behind him in the meantime. “I think… if not that, maybe a few months younger… he can stand, and seems okay with soft solids… I think you’re right, maybe a year?” his clothing size certainly seemed to think the same, Duke having gone to extreme lengths to get a perfectly fitted wardrobe for the boy. He even included a few different larger sizes for the coming year as well.

“Hm…” Alfred leaned on his crossed arms, rested on the table as he eyed the boy, “I suppose we could begin early development lessons with him, signing especially, but I think he can do more, words, possibly.” In response, Terry sneezed, food spraying all over the spoon and bowl in front of the two of you, his eyes still groggy as he slumped in your hold. “Oh dear,” Alfred hummed in amusement, standing to bring you a small terrycloth towel to clean up.

Terry gave a small grunt as he pushed at the cloth now cleaning his face.

“Gonna… Gonna have to get used to that…” the suddenness surprised you, you knew it was a normal human function, but you just hadn’t… expected it.

“I think there will be a great many things for you to get used to from now on, even I will have to relearn a few things. It’s been… a very long time since an infant was in this home.” He went back to finishing his and your meal, a nostalgic and wistful look masking his face. Bruce had no idea what to do with you when you were an infant handed over to him, and it amused Alfred to this day.

Thinking about it, you looked down at Terry, your chin coming to hover over his head, almost as if you were trying to nuzzle him, loud enough for only him to hear, “…mama. S… Say mama.” The child just tilted his head and cooed at you instead, reaching up to pull at your hair again ohdeargodpleasestop.

Releasing your hair from the child’s grasp and holding both of his hands in yours this time, you tried once more, “mama.”

“Mmba,” he blew a raspberry at you as he slurred his speech, becoming more fascinated with the bubbles he blew than your inquiries. “Mm… bah.” He let out a giggle, popped his lips at you and then smiled, trying, and failing thanks to your hold, to reach for your hair again. After several attempts, he settled for turning slightly, resting his head on your chest as he watched Alfred and all of the very shiny cookware.

You flushed, wanting to beam but also feeling incredibly self-conscious about the situation still, it was honestly a lot to get used to. Frowning in determination at the snuggly bug of a child, you tried a different tactic this time, “ma.” He was still more interested in the food being cooked, however, and you heaved a sigh into his head of hair. “Mma,” well, it was a start, and you repeated your previous chant of mama to him, your own eyes wide with what felt like pride.

Was this how Alfred felt?

“Mmba.” Well, as you said, it was a start. With a sigh, you went back to shoving food in his mouth, though quickly you had to wrangle the spoon from his mouth each time. “Stop… biting it, Terry…” you wondered how Conner had gotten so smart in such a short amount of time, wondering if Terry had still been too young when you took him from the bio labs at CADMUS.

“Ah, good morning Sir,” Alfred greeted, and your head shot up to see your father standing in the doorway, bags under his eyes and a yawn hidden behind the back of his hand. “Good morning, Alfred,” he stared at the older man with a frown, obviously trying not to say something. Instead, he looked at you and the child for a long moment, giving both of you a morning greeting. And even though Terry couldn’t properly respond, he did give Bruce the same challenging look as the last time.

He was looking for something out of the ordinary, however, the only thing in the room that was new was Terry, nothing else seemed to be amiss. But you could tell, looking up at him from the corner of your eyes, head still downturned, he was searching.

“Morning dad…” you tried to be light as you smiled at him, nothing is wrong.

“Daah,” Terry tried imitating, but it was lost in the rest of his babbling as he grabbed the food from the spoon. He was making another mess as he shoved it in his mouth, fingers fiddling around tongue and mushy carrots. Thankfully you still had the terrycloth to wipe at his chubby cheeks.

Bruce’s footsteps were as silent as his entrance, stopping next to you and squatting down, large hand, warm and gentle, landing on Terry’s head as he ruffled his hair, “I’d like to talk to you downstairs soon, okay?” He studied Terry for a moment, eyes as brilliant as his own, though it seemed like Bruce almost enjoyed the small head of hair in his palm. You couldn’t tell beyond the awkward chill in the air, but the two of them were giving each other knowing looks, both challenging, though Bruce couldn’t understand why Terry looked at him that way.

He made to stand up, pulling his hand away before Terry could do any damage, cheeks puffing out in a pout. “There’s something I’d like you to look into,” he spoke as he headed back towards the door, a morning coffee handed to him by Alfred, “oh, and you’re not allowed to leave the grounds for the time being. The tracker seems to be faulty.”

Considering you broke them often over the years, well, yeah, of course it was faulty.

Again.

The smile he gave you before he left was smug and you weren’t completely certain as to why, and it was making you really really nervous, “the League computers picked up something quite interesting yesterday.”

“Uh…” Ah yeah. Well heck.

Yeah, metropolis was both a huge risk AND your last outing, you were glad you took the chance though, even if your stunt escalated the situation. You were now officially on house arrest by the most observant secret-wannabe cop in the world.

Then again, there was no telling exactly what he knew.

He might be bluffing.

“Maaam… ah…” Huh? Did he just… Quickly as if borrowed from the speed force, your thoughts of Bruce and the problems at hand seemed to flee as you beamed at Terry. “Mama?”

“Mamhh.”

-

[bigR] Was able to give the drive a quick look.

[bigR] I don’t understand villains. I just don’t.

The hell did that mean?

[steph] c u soon <33

Ah, crap.

-

The table before Bruce had only a few pieces of paper and only two photos. You’d come home nearly a week ago with a new addition to the family, from where he still wasn’t certain. He’d checked and there’d been no missing infant reports that matched up with him, both in looks and location. Tim seemed to be in on it, hiding secrets along with you, and holding back when Bruce would inquire about anything even remotely familiar to the situation. Tim had also been keeping busy with something the past few days, and ever since you’d come home from shopping, he seemed unable to stay still, constantly fidgeting.

Then there was yesterday, when Duke took you out shopping with the boys while Batman had been at the Womb at the League’s watchtower, digging up as much as he could. Which, unfortunately, was just the few scraps of confusing ledes in front of him. The annoying part is how well you avoided the cameras, there were only a few times where he had been able to make you out, the rest he had to guess based on your profile that day.

The subsequent events had started stacking up in a rather annoying fashion. Your tracker’d been broken since you gave everyone a scare a week ago, returning with a child in your arms and something akin to paranoia. Even Tim had been clueless (until he wasn’t), and now even his attitude was giving Bruce pause. It felt more unnerving than bad, something making Bruce’s own stomach knot when he kept coming up with dead ends.

The day you’d gone shopping, the Womb had picked up something the news hadn’t, as the news was calling it nothing more than an accident, and it was that that gave Bruce even more pause. The worst part is that he couldn’t just take a deep dive into the LexCorp building’s system, knowing that much was out of their (or his) hands.

If Cyborg found out that Batman was secretly looking into a non-incident on the League system for family-related business, then he’d never hear the end of it from Superman and the others. He’d have to go out of his way to get into the building, and right now wasn’t the best time to do so, security was increased ten-fold. He’d have to wait it out.

LexCorp wasn’t even reporting it as an incident themselves, but the fact that they were being very stringent about the details, the increase in surveillance, Bruce felt it in his gut; an obvious coverup. The problem was why, there was no way what had happened had been anything short of problematic for Lex, and yet they weren’t filing any kind of paperwork.

They did their best to act as if they didn’t care, but Batman saw all the extra measures, and he also saw the information black hole happening.

LexCorp, no doubt, was scrubbing.

What he had been able to do, however, was gather two snapshots of a black blur that sped out of the building before disappearing into the thick of the city below.

About the same area where Damian’s own tracker took a detour.

“I preferred it when you used to use electrical tape to tape a transceiver blocker to your arm to hide the trackers,” Bruce hadn’t looked up as you approached (and you were dang silent too, even Terry was being chill), “It was much less of a headache.”

“Yeah, but that was when I was a kid. Nothing I do now can hide me from you anymore, the technology is different from back then.”

“Except breaking it.”

“Except that.”

He snorted as you stopped at the table, situating Terry on your hip, and looked down at the photograph that Bruce pushed over to you. It took every bit of training not to give anything away as you picked the photo up and gave it a once-over.

“This is…?” you turned your head to see him with that smug smile from before, tapping the image in your hand with his finger, “this is what I want you to look into.” You would have bristled if you hadn’t known your father better, this was some kind of trap.

“The same day you headed off to Metropolis, intriguingly enough, the LexCorp building had a break-in,” he paused to gather more words, rolling them around on his tongue before swallowing them, I’m worried, and you’re the reason.

“A break-in? I hadn’t heard—”

“No, you wouldn’t have. LexCorp seems to be keeping it from the public knowledge.”

“Then the League computers?”

“Was able to take a few photos from another satellite, these two were the best ones I could find. One of whatever broke in as it took off flying, and another of the same building a few minutes after. No police, no fire crews, nothing.” He was watching your reactions like a hawk, unfortunately you’d played this game so often growing up (learning to lie and stay out of trouble was a skill your brothers and you freaking perfected, even if they got into trouble on purpose), that it was really very easy to just—

“Uhm, but… dad, how? You grounded me, remember? That makes gathering any kind of intel like, y’know, hard.”

The smug smile was back as he pointed at the rather established medical area, the two of you heading over together, “you’re the information broker, I’m sure you can find something useful. It’s not the first time you’ve had to gather information from behind bars, after all,” you really hated how he still felt compelled to remind you of that.

It was once, in a country where no one knew you and where records were shoddy at best.

And on purpose, dangit.

You still weren’t certain how he even found out, besides, he and your brothers had done worse by comparison.

As he began removing the old tracker, you ignored the pain, the lack of anesthetic nothing new to you, too used to it at this point. Not that it was terribly painful. He was precise in skill, second to Alfred, you were too preoccupied with keeping the child still in your lap to notice what he’d been doing prior to your arrival.

All jokes aside, he’d finally gotten ahold of something that could yield actual results.

He looked to the boy again, staring at his familiar features, at his hair, like midnight, “striking how much he looks like us.” You frowned at him.

It was a statement.

The joke wasn’t lost on him.

Or on you.

[dreamer213]

Broken Machines: Lights The Dark

Chapter 10 Saturday School Kids Can Be Cruel.

Friday night had been pretty fun when Penny finally got home. She had called Pietro earlier in the day to tell him not to make her too much for dinner because she had a big lunch. She managed to keep the petit fours a secret until she got home. When she did get home, she plopped the box down on the table while he had his back turned and shouted “SURPRISE” as he turned around. He was so surprised he almost dropped their dinner, but Penny took the tray off his hands before anything got ruined. That night they had baked potatoes with tiny cakes and tea for dessert. The following morning Penny woke up to a pre-made plate of bacon and eggs, some money, and a note.

“ Morning Penny, They had to call me in for some emergency maintenance on the mech’s cannon again. There’s gonna be a lot to be done so I won’t be back till tomorrow. Be safe while I’m gone; remember to eat and stay charged.”

“Love you Sunshine, Dad.”

Penny: He won’t be home till tomorrow. I’m going to be alone here until tomorrow.

Penny frowns unconsciously; she had rarely been away from her dad since she was stationed. His presence had been her only constant comfort since the tournament; she hadn’t gone a day without him and she had never thought about what would happen if she had to. It’s honestly quite scary to be alone with nothing be her thoughts. Whenever she was, everything felt so small, so quiet, so….. suffocating like a black void pooling around her.

Penny: No one will be here when I get back or when I go to sleep tonight. When it’s dark, it’ll just be, be-

Penny shakes her head, pushing out the worrying thoughts before they get worse.

Penny: Stop. You are fine, you are strong, you are not hopeless, and one night on your own will not hurt you. Just eat your breakfast and go to work.

Penny sits down at the table and quietly eats her now cold breakfast. Once she’s done, she washes her dishes, turns off all the lights, and heads off to her morning patrol. The patrol went well, no robberies or emergencies today, for some reason this didn't make Penny happy, even though it meant she would have less paperwork at the end of the day. Before long, it’s time to help at the training facility. Saturdays and Sundays were always the easiest days of the week at the facility as most academy students rested or went home on weekends, and most hunters took it easy on the weekends too, so besides makeup sessions and a few fitness hobbyists, no one came in. Which meant Penny was never requested on these days. Or so she thought. When she arrived, Penny is told that a team has requested her assistant for their session and was waiting for her in her usual room. This surprised her but Penny did as she was told and headed towards the training room. As she walked, she wondered who could have possibly asked for her on a Saturday afternoon. Could it be Winter? No, she liked to train by herself. Academy students? No, any student who came in on the weekend was to be monitored by a teacher. Could it..Ciel?...No there was no possible way she had asked for her. Penny kept pondering, but no matter how hard she thought, she couldn’t guess who could be waiting for her in that room. She’d just had to go in and see for herself. Once she finally reached the training room, the moment she enters the room, something tackles her! Penny wrests her attacker onto the floor and pins their hands behind their back. She’s about to question them when she feels something touch her back. She grabs it, gripping it tightly in her hands. She looks at it and sees it’s a long fluffy orange tail.

Penny: An orange cat tail? Neon Katt?

Penny looks down and realizes she’s holding down Neon!

Neon: Yeah, it’s me. And if not too much to ask, could you let go of my tail and GET OFF ME!

Penny: Right away. I’m so sorry!

Penny lets her go, and they both get off the floor. Before Penny can ask why Neon tackled her, Neon starts rolling towards the rest of her team. Penny tries to keep up and ask her what’s going on, but Neon wouldn't even look at her. When they finally reach the rest of the team, FNKI Neon hides behind Flynt. Penny gives up on Neon and decides to just wait to ask one of the others.

Penny: Good afternoon Team FNKI.

Flynt: Hey Penny, nice to see you.

Ivori: Afternoon to you too, Ms. Penny.

Kobalt: Sup Penny, hope you got affairs in order cause you’re about to see hell. (chuckles)

Ivori: Koco!

Ivori pops Kobalt in his side with the handle of his whip. Kobalt rubs his side in pain and annoyed.

Kobalt: Ow, the hell Ivy!

Ivori: Could you please not act like a jackass for one minute.

Kobalt: How was I being a jackass? We know what’s about to go down, I was just giving her a heads up!

Ivori: Still, would it kill you to show some tact for once. I mean Is it really so hard for you to-

Penny: Excuse me.

Both young men stop and return their attention to Penny.

Penny: What exactly is going on? I have no idea what is happening and what exactly I’ve done to get this kind of reaction. Could one of you please explain?

Flynt: Yeah, sorry about that. You see what happened was-

Suddenly, Neon pushes Flynt out of the way and gets in Penny’s face. She gets less than an inch away from Penny’s face, looking really upset.

Neon: You didn’t call.

Penny: Excuse me?

Neon continues to stare her down, arms crossed with a big frown on her face.

Neon: You didn’t call me! I gave you my number, asked you to call me, waited two weeks for you to call, but you never did. So rude!

Penny: I am sorry Neon, I have been very busy for the last few weeks and hadn’t thought about our conversation since then.

Neon: Wow, talk about thoughtless. Or am I just that forgettable to you?

Penny: No, I just had over things I needed to give my full attention to at the time. That and I didn’t have anything to talk about.

Neon: Uh, That’s so not true! What about that “secret mission” Ironwood has you working on?

Penny: I’m not supposed to talk about that.

Neon: Yeah, with civilians! You’re supposed to gossip about your crazy missions and stupid paperwork with coworkers, stupid. Sharing wild stories is like the best thing about being a soldier! And besides, this isn’t just an everyday mission; it's one the General himself had to come to your house and get you out of bed for. How could you not wanna talk about that?

Penny: How did you know about that?

Neon: Same way I shoulda heard from you. Now talk! I wanna hear everything!

Penny stares blankly at Neon as she piece together what she just heard. She looked over at the rest of Team FNKI; the three young men were standing awkwardly, embarrassed but unsurprised by Neon’s actions. Finally understanding what’s going on, Penny turns her attention back to Neon.

Penny: So if I’m hearing this correctly, you request this room and my presence with sole purpose of having a recreational conversation?

Neon: Yeah!

Penny: And you do realize that in doing so, you are misappropriating both military equipment and personnel?

With that, Neon’s pout drops, and so does her tail, Flynt facepalms and hangs his head, Ivori does everything he can to avoid making eye contact, and Kobalt’s looking around and whistling, trying his best to play it cool. Penny crosses her arms, unimpressed by their silly plan.

Penny: Team FNKI, please leave this area immediately so that others may use it properly.

Neon: What! Oh come on, no one even comes here on Saturday!

Penny: That is incorrect and irrelevant; this room is for training purposes only, not socializing. If you aren’t going to train then you have to leave. Those are the rules we must follow as soldiers.

Neon: OMG, Are you really doing this right now? Ugh why do you have to be such a narc-

Neon is quickly interrupted by Flynt getting in between the warring redheads.

Flynt: Okay, I’m sensing way too much hostility here, so why don’t we all just take as sec to calm down and come up with some kind of solution.

Neon about to start arguing again but Flynt turns to her and puts a hand on her cheek; he caresses her cheek with his thumb and lightly scratches her jawline with his other fingers. Soon Neon lets out a low purr as she full calms down from her hissy fit.

Flynt: Kitty, I know you just wanna talk, but we gotta follow the rule. So, how about this, you like skating, right?

A now calm Neon simply nods her head as she continues to receive scratches.

Flynt: Then how about you do a little speed test, you race around the room a few times while Penny tracks your speed and you two talk as you go. Me and the boys can stay here and do some stretches while you ladies race and chat. Sound good to you?

Neon: Yeah…Sounds…good.

Flynt: Good.

Still scratching away, Flynt turns his head to Penny.

Flynt: Sound okay to you, Penny?

Penny: Since the activities are forms of training, yes that would be acceptable.

Flynt: Great, thank ya Penny.

Flynt takes his hand off Neon’s cheek onto her shoulder and rolls her towards Penny as he returns to his spot next to Ivori and Kobalt. Penny and Neon walk to the edge of the room near the entrance; once there, the two stand close to the wall, and Neon takes a starting stance. Penny clicks her heels together and starts her rocket boots; they’re on a lower setting to match Neon’s gliding and sets an internal stopwatch. Penny gives a quick glance to the boys, and they were indeed doing stretches as promised, then looks back to Neon. They make eye contact, Noen mouths, “Ready?” and Penny holds up a hand and starts counting down. 5….4……3….2….1.

Both girls dash off at tremendous speeds. They remain neck and neck as they go around the room and soon Neon starts talking again.

Neon: So what’s going on with this secret mission?

Penny: I’m investigating a crime, and I need to go undercover to find the perpetrator.

Neon: Cool, so are they just dropping you in or what?

Penny: No, because of the lifestyle and living situation of the people on the suspect list, I have to receive some training on how to behave and act without seeming suspicious.

Neon: Oh, is it like stealth training?

Penny: Yes and no, I’m taking etiquette lessons so that I may infiltrate Atlas high society.

Neon: Woah, really? Damn that’s like straight out of a spy movie! So who they got teaching you to act all distinguished and junk? I don’t know we had an expert on that stuff just lying around here.

Penny: We don’t, an elite is instructing me as a form of repayment for saving his life at a party.

Neon: Uh ew, you’re getting lessons from some old fart elite. Gross.

Penny: No, he’s actually a teenage boy. And he’s not gross; he’s very clean and friendly.

Neon: A teenager! They seriously gotta another kid teaching you? Way to pay off a life debt.

Penny: It’s actually very nice; Our ages being so close makes our dynamic fairly even, he’s intelligent, easy to talk to, and very kind, and the way he teaches is unique and very fun.

Neon: Ooooh cool. Is he cute?

Penny: He’s…more beautiful than cute.

Neon: Oh yeah? How exactly?

Penny: Well, he’s has a model’s figure, lean, long legs, high shoulders, and excellent posture. You could take a picture of him at any angle, and he’d always look amazing. His face is also gorgeous, pink lips that look nice even in a smirk, high cheekbones, a cute little nose, and his eyes! I’ve never seen a pair so blue and shiny before; they look like a deep sea with the brilliance of a gemstone. And his hair is so soft and neat that it looks like silk and is white as fresh snow.

Penny begins to sway from left to right, hands behind her back and a sweet smile on her face. She’s slowing down and moving further and further away from the wall as they go. Neon slows to match her speed.

Neon: Wow, so he’s grade A in the looks department. What about his personality?

Penny: As I previously stated, he’s very intelligent. He’s also creative and well-spoken I could talk with him for hours if I had the time to. He’s a bit abrasive, not cruel by any means just very direct and confident, and charming and witty (giggle), which is a little funny because his first name starts with Whit. (giggles)

Neon: (giggles) Sounds like you really really like this guy.

Penny: I do. Being around him is just so….wonderful. Sometimes when I’m with him, it feels like it’s just the two of us; I have his full attention, and he has mine. It’s very..cozy and a bit

A slight blush glows on Penny’s cheeks. She turns around and starts flying backwards.

Penny: exhilarating. So much so that sometimes I feel a little dizzy and get this thumping feeling in my chest when he looks at me for too long or says something really nice to me. It’s really-

Penny is intercepted by her accidentally backing into the wall of one of the obstacles. Luckily for her, her aura was active, and she had slowed down so much that the impact was damaging in the slightest. Still hurt a bit though.

Neon: Ooooooh shit.

Neon rushes over to Penny, having been in earshot of the collision come running to see if everything’s okay.

Flynt: I heard a bang. Who got hurt?

Kobalt: 5000 lien says Neon got bored and pushed her off a platform.

Ivori: Koco I swear to every God if you don’t stop I hit you right in the-

Neon: Will you two mouthy douche cakes shut up and actually help!

The two stop their bickering and go to Penny. They try to help her up, but Penny puts her hands up as they try, and they back up to give her some space. Penny turns off her boots, takes a second to regain her balance, and steadies herself fully on the floor. The team begin conversing about what’s just happened.

Ivori: Are you okay, dear? Do you need us to get someone?

Penny: No, thank you, I’m fine. My aura was activated, and it was a slow speed collision, so there was no damage aside from the initial shock of the impact.

Flynt: But why’d you crash?

Penny: I-

Neon: Oh, it was nothing really. Penny just go all wispy talking about this dreamy boy she met.

Penny: W-what? What are you-

Kobalt: Oooh, so that what you two were talking about. A boy.

Neon: Yup, she was so caught up in her gushing that she slammed herself into that wall. (laughs) Can’t say I blame her though, all cute girls go a little brain dead when they think about their crush. I know I did.

Kobalt: And since when did you count as a cute girl?

Neon playful elbows Kobalt in the side, and Kobalt returns the favor while Penny looks on, confused by their words.

Penny: Excuse me, but do you mean by a crush?

Neon: Oh, you know.

Penny: No, I do not know.

Neon: You know it’s when you really like someone.

Penny tilts her head to the side, confused.

Penny: But I like a lot of people.

Neon: Yeah, but a crush is when you really like someone. Like you like like them.

Penny: Like like?

Kobalt: You know, they make you feel all floaty, makes your head all foggy, and gives you butterflies in your tummy.

Penny: How would someone get insects in my stomach?

Neon and Kobalt sigh in unison, frustrated with her lack of knowledge. Meanwhile, Ivori walks up to Penny, dusts off her sleeves, and takes both her hands in his, taking over the situation.

Ivori: Sorry about those two. They have don’t know how to take anything seriously. Now the gist of what they were trying to say is that a crush is when you have some romantic feelings for someone.

Penny: Romantic..feelings?

Ivori: Yes, when you’re with this person, it’s very special. They’re beautiful to you; they make you feel warm and safe and happy. You want to hold them, laugh with them, kiss them, and just be romantic with them.

Penny: But I’ve never wanted to ki-

For a second, the unconscious thought of kissing Whitley plays through Penny’s mind. Suddenly the thumping in her chest returned, and her face started to redden. Penny tries to make the thought go away, but Ivori’s words keep replaying in her head, and memories of Whitley pour in with it. Her face gets redder and redder until she’s at the max amount of flushed her body can be. She tries to speak her mind still jumbled.

Penny: I-I d-don’t have r-romantic fe-feelings for hi-(hiccup)

Penny quickly rips her hands from Ivori and covers her mouth, astonished that she had somehow just said a lie.

Kobalt: The hell was that!

Penny: N-nothing (hiccup)

Neon: Wait a sec, I’ve heard about this. She hiccups when she lies. You lied, you’re totally crushing on this guy, aren’t you?

Penny: No I’m not-(hiccup)

Kobalt: Holy shit, that’s fucking adorable! Do it again! Do it again!

Neon: Penny’s got a crush, Penny’s got a crush.~

Neon chants in a sing-song voice, Kobalt chuckling at her side.

Penny: No, I don't-(hiccup) Stop it!

Neon continues to chant and Kobalt joins in, Penny just covers her face, silently praying for the ground to swallow her up and away from this as they continue heckling her. After a while Ivori decides that enough was enough and gets in the two jokesters faces.

Ivori: Both of you stop that right now! Can’t you see that hurting the poor girl’s feelings!

Neon: Ugh, Lighten up we’re were just kidding around.

Kobalt: Yeah, you’re supposed to tease people when they get a crush. We did the same thing to you.

Ivori: That was different, you don’t make fun of a little girl. Especially one like Penny.

Neon: Oh, come on, if she’s gonna be a soldier, she has to be able to handle some hazing.

Ivori: But you still shouldn’t be prying into her personal life like this.

Flynt: All three of you shouldn’t have been prying at all.

Flynt final chimes in, having stayed silent for far too long.

Flynt: Koco, Kitty cut it out right now; it's not funny. Ivy, you should’ve stayed out of it; you played right into their game and lost. Take your L and walk away.

The three listen and stop arguing, and Flynt turns to Penny. He takes off his shades, gives her a reassuring smile, and pats her shoulder.

Flynt: Penny, I understand you’re vulnerable and awkward right now, that’s normal. If you wanna talk about this, we’ll gladly listen but if not that’s okay too. We won’t push you, and I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable today.

Penny: Thank you Flynt Coal, your apology is accepted.

Flynt: Okay, now if there’s anything you need feel free to-

???: Excuse me.

Everyone stops in their tracks as a familiar voice rings out into the room. They look towards the door to see Winter walking towards them, stern-faced as always.

Winter: Apologies if I’m interrupting your conversation Team FNKI, but your time is almost up, and I need to have a talk with Penny. And since it seems like you have already finished up, I’d like you all to leave.

Flynt: Yes Ma’am, let's go people, time to bounce.

Flynt gives Penny a wave and heads towards the door, followed by Ivori, who gives her a sweet smile, followed by Kobalt, who ruffled her hair, and lastly Neon, who gave her a peace sign as she rolls past. Once they’ve left the room, Winter and Penny are left to converse.

Winter: Penny Polendina.

Penny: Yes, Winter Schnee.

Winter: I understand you have had a change in schedule.

Penny: Yes, I have.

Winter: When you return to your usual schedule, I’d like you to join me on my errand.

Penny: You mean the-

Winter: She’s asked for you, said that your presence was calming. I’ve already spoken to Ironwood, and he’s approved the change. As soon as your investigation is over, you’ll be accompanying me for this task twice a week. Understood.

Penny: Affirmative.

Winter: Excellent, now run along the carrier for the evening shift is leaving soon.

Penny: Yes Ma’am, have a good day.

Penny exists the room, leaving Winter alone to train, soon she’s back in Mantle and headed to the station to fill out her daily reports. It doesn’t take long as it has been a very uneventful day so she finishes in around two hours. From there she walks home, unlocking the door and stepping into the living room, turn on the lights as she enters.

Penny: I’m home-

Penny begins her usual greeting before remembering that she’s alone. Her smile drops and she heads to her room, taking off her boots along the way. She sets her backpack and boots down the flops onto her bed, she looks up at the ceiling, wonders what she should do until it’s time for her to sleep. She pulls out her scroll, hoping to find some entertainment, and notices a text from Neon reading “If you wanna any advice on how to get a date with Atlas boy, text me 😸🌈😉.” She goes red at the memory of teasing she received early and responds with a simple “No thank you.” She decides to go on her Individeo, a video, and streaming platform, app to watch some videos. She pulls up a video on making your own custom guns, she had seen the tile and saved it for another time days ago. As she watches she remembers that she saved this specific video to show her dad because she thought some of the ideas for the weapons could be used to improve some of their own guns. This realization weights on her as all the ideas and facts she wanted to discuss with her dad float around with nowhere to go. Speaking of her dad he wanted her to eat whiles he’s gone.

Now Penny could survive solely off of electricity but thanks to her biofuel converter and new nervous system she could enjoy food and turn it into fuel, making her more eco-friendly. She closes the video app and searches her memory bank for phone numbers for local restaurants that delivered. She forms a long list of options but as she has limited funds and would hate to inconvenience anyone Penny starts disqualifying the higher prices and further away eateries. Soon she narrows it down to a list of three options, a pizza place, a burger place, Ms. Ling’s. From there she evaluates them base on quality, quantity, and service rates. In the end logic and curiosity wins out as Penny picks out the one she never had before, pizza. She calls in for one medium-sized cheese pizza, just to test out the taste, and is told it will take 45 minutes to deliver. She takes this time to wash up and change into her pajamas. When the food does arrive she goes downstairs, pays, and takes her pizza. She sits the box on the table, opens it, and takes out a slice. Penny takes a bite and it’s greasy in a good way, the cheese is nice and stretchy, the tomatoes sauce compliments the cheese, and the crust has a pleasant crunch. But it just doesn’t feel tasty, it tastes good but for some reason, it just doesn't feel the way to supposed to. Penny eats two more slices then puts the rest away in the refrigerator. She goes back upstairs, brushes her teeth, plugs up, and heads to bed early.

She closes her eyes hoping to see her dad’s smiling face when she wakes again.

[imemeyoumemeweallmeme]

Quotes from “Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier” as starters

But today could be the day I finally make a difference!

Where are you off to today, you no good piece of shit?

You’ve got to dream a little harder!

It took you long enough, you shit-eating dog.

Oh, so you think you're better than me just because you can read?

Just try to keep your fat face out of that motherfucking book.

Why am I the only one who sees things as they are?

Oh, ___, sometimes I feel you're my only friend in this world.

Today, things got a little out of hand and a lot of good people are dead.

Did we get the loaf of bread back?

Why do you even bother visiting us commoners anymore, you aristocat?

I sure hope you haven't goofed this one up, ___.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, look at this mess. Dead bodies in the street.

Did you know in this barbaric country they only give you money if you work?

Who would seek employment when life offers such enjoyment?

You're only in trouble if you get caught.

My father says that you must marry me now, or I'll bring dishonor to my entire family.

I can't give up on my dreams and settle down just 'cause your dad's being a dick.

‘Cause you stole my daughter’s hymen!

That’s completely fair, but in my defense - dude, your daughter’s hot.

My ass cheeks…they're hanging out.

And what's this? Blood. Blood on my ass cheeks. Tell me, ___, how the fuck did it get there?

Oh I am grateful for your tiny ass, ___!

This really is an act of war, ___!

Do not feed me shit and call it couscous, ___!

Well an hour free is better than a lifetime in a cage. Being fed and pampered and cleaned up after. What kind of a life is that?

When are you going to learn that your actions have consequences?

One of these days, you're going to learn that life isn't about dreams coming true. It's a series of compromises and disappointment.

That's supporting a corrupt system. You're a part of the problem.

I want everything, and more!

My secret is simple, really. Anyone could do it. I just follow the golden rule!

Always treat others like sisters and brothers and they’ll do the same for you.

I get back what I give!

My hunger blinded me and forced me to act like an animal.

But we're not animals. We're gifted with minds to reason and hearts to love!

I think that's enough fun for one day, eh, ___?

Well, we have our own golden rule here. Whoever has the gold…makes the rules.

The gold that my neighbor earns through his labor is gold I’ll never see.

So keep your mouth shut and your palm open, and you may just get...filthy stinkin' rich!

You could start by telling me your name.

I suppose this will be the end of me.

I am a servant to the people, and therefore your servant.

Magic does nothing if not touch the soul.

I want to know your story, I want to know your past, I want to know your future too.

Fill my days and nights with the tale of you.

I never cared for stories until you entered mine.

Let’s make ours the story with no end.

Their mouths aren't fit to hold a donkey's shit.

Many years ago, I took my finger…and I pushed in my penis…and it hasn't come out since.

A very wise and enthralling tale, ___. We can all learn a lesson from it, I expect.

Where's my opium?

Speak now, ___! And don't fuck it up!

Well, maybe I have a new purpose now.

That is what your story is about.

I wish I had the power to rewrite this tale.

Never stop wishing it, ___.

We will be reunited one day, and unlock wonders beyond your wildest dreams!

After all, I must be pretty great, if you believed in me.

I only hope you haven't fallen prey to some sex-crazed ruffian!

Right this way, babe.

This is so unfair! Poor people need slaves just as much as rich people do! Maybe even a little bit more.

Of course it's a free thinker like who's struggling to get by. And all because of our totally corrupt class system.

I hate the class system. That's why I said, "Fuck it, I'm never going to school again."

So, you abandoned everything, to be free? That is so brave.

Brave? Me? Yeah.

All my parents ever did was support me. Give me a place to stay, tell me they loved me, no matter what. They were really bad parents.

How's a thirty-three-year-old kid supposed to know how to survive on his own?

But that is not fair! ___’s a victim of circumstance!

Don't look at me like that! These are my orders from ___.

Wait, wait, what? You slit people's throats? I didn't tell you to kill anyone! This is awful!

___, no. That is just an expression.

I'm gonna have so much gold I could swim through it! Like a pool. Do you think people can really do that?

Once I get my mind set on a chick, I just can't move on until I get this nut out.

I can’t wait to be a rich dude!

Stealing is so much easier when you’ve got already tons of gold.

We’ll get our happy ending tonight.

We weren't sure if you were ever coming back, ___.

Everyone, look at my ass!

You received the manhood of a badger?

Those are stretch marks, they happen.

Oh, I see! You received the manhood of a tiger!

Did you hear that, lads? ___ made love to a tiger!

Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker!

I DID NOT FUCK A TIGER!!!

Am I not a thing of beauty? Don't you want a piece of this? Wouldn't you gladly give up all of your worldly possessions just to greet me when I come home from a one-sided massacre, and bathe my sweaty, bloody body with your tongue?

Oh…you. Aren't you busy ruining my life?

I noticed you weren't at dinner, but I saw you tried to poison my wine. Usually when you do that, it means you want to talk. What's up, are you mad at me?

You ripped my heart out and smashed it into a million pieces. And don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about.

He/she/they was perfect! Like if you cobbled together all the best features from all the best guys/girls/people, and then gave them a tragic backstory! It's like he/she/they was designed specifically to appeal to me.

I knew everything about him/her/them! He/she/they was my soul mate! My -- my -- God, I am freaking out, what was his/her/their name?

Believe it or not, I care about you.

I don't want to be prepared. I want to expect the unexpected.

Look, you're young. You don't exactly get how things work yet. And, while I don't appreciate any of your ideas, I do appreciate the fact that you HAVE ideas. Maybe one day you'll have some GOOD ones.

Sexual predators the lot of them! Their tactics target vulnerable, young girls, and build up false senses of trust and then isolate them on magic rides of sorts. And when the moment is right, they whip it out. You know... their songs.

Be wary of young boys who whip out their songs. A song is often a prelude to a dick.

A song is a dick in sheep's clothing.

Can't you see I'm trying to impart a life lesson?

I feel like you only come to see me when there's bad news.

I counted thirteen dead before the peacocks got to them.

How the fuck did you know it was me?

Because it IS you, you're just wearing different clothes.

Wow. Pretty AND smart. You're the whole shebang, babe.

Everything I told you the other night was a lie. Don't you trust me?

Ugh. Oh no. Okay, um, now I'm kind of feeling like everything about you that was attractive to me before isn't really there anymore.

No! No, I'm just being indecisive. It's still you.

I've just got to get back on that high that I was on before.

Look into my eyes and talk to me some more about the world's injustice!

Sure. Just let me roll this blunt first.

But I don't want her/him/they to love me. I just want her/him/them to fuck me.

You guys know there's a way to get people to think about sex without even talking about sex? You just gotta do it subliminally.

Hey, babe, it's such a beautiful night -- take off your clothes.

But…let me ask you this: is your penis an innie or an outie?

___ explained everything to me. He/she/they was just pretending to be a ___. For fun.

I bet the ___ is under that ___ sized hat!

Bullshit! Why would I pretend to be a ___? Just to get laid? That's not me.

Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! Why are you picking on me, ___? Afraid I'll reveal your little secret?

Whoa! I thought I was just bullshitting you guys!

What made me think that I could get away with such a plot?

How does the golden rule apply in such a situation?

Whichever road I take, I will only encourage someone’s wrath!

‘Til now I’ve always traveled down the straight and narrow path.

But which way do I turn when the road’s become so... so... twisted?

You think you know me, as others think they know you, but there are two sides to every story.

I was prepared for anything, except for what ensued.

They weren't ready for my ideas.

Fortune favors the beautiful.

My only crime was love.

But the heart wants what it wants, and sometimes what it wants, is twisted.

I only wished to reclaim what was mine!

I only wished for equal rights for all!

I only wished to save her/him/them!

I only wished to be invited to the party!

I only wished to improve relations between the races!

I only wished to teach ___ responsibility… so he/she/they wouldn’t end up like me!

I only wished to give the people a voice… To help the miserable, lonely, and depressed!

I never knew my father!

It's an unfortunate situation…But you do have a choice.

What remains of a man when that man is dead and gone?

Why protect my reputation? I’m a dead man/woman/person either way!

How will they tell my story? How will they tell my tale? Will anybody even care?

Is it nobler in the mind to be well-liked but ineffectual, or moral but maligned?

If I hide to save my life, what has my life been for?

The road ahead may twist, but I will never swerve!

I’ll give them all the unsung antihero they deserve!

I’ve nothing left to lose, to the only path to choose is twisted.

So let them twist my words, let the people scorn me.

Who cares if no one will ever mourn me?

Let them bury the side of the story that they’ll never learn!

Let the truth be twisted!

Let my life be twisted!

I’ll be twisted, it’s my turn!

Your armies have abandoned you. Your ruling class is corrupt and we have come to put an end to your tyrannical rule!

You'll never end our tyrannical rule!

It is I who will be doing the fucking today.

It appears that ___ has cold feet!

Yes I am talking to you! Now get your ass over here!

I've got to become a sorcerer! Can you do that?

Yes, I do feel lucky. I've got a ___! But I think he might be a fucking moron!

My fuse is about this long right now.

You either need to back me the fuck up, or shut the fuck up. Got it?

And what's the last thing you wanna do before that happens? Take off your clothes. That's right, have sex! Hurry, take off your clothes.

I'm not going to take off my clothes in the middle of a battle!

My skin is melting!

Would you stop acting like an asshole for one minute?

I'm not a tease. I'm just…not a freak.

You're making sex seem gross and lame.

You got that, ___? We are not a thing anymore, okay?

We're just having our first fight. Maybe after some make up sex…

You're the guy who killed my parents. Where have you been?

Okay, Jesus Christ, I don't know what's going on here.

That's the trick! You just really have to believe your own bullshit!

It takes someone who believes they can change the world to actually do it.

This isn't fair! Life is supposed to be fair!

Your youth and your passion, and yes, your naïveté -- these give you power.

When I was your age, I thought I could accomplish anything I ever wanted and more! But I didn't. Perhaps no one does. But you have to think you will or you won't have the strength to try.

Maybe you won't make any big changes, but a few little ones that pave the way for the next generation. And then they'll make small changes and leave it to the next and the next! It's a bit like a carousel of progress. Always spinning towards a great, big, beautiful tomorrow. And tomorrow is just a dream away.

But what if tomorrow never comes?

Tomorrow always comes. Even if it comes without us.

What will I do without you to guide me? When I am lost, where will I turn?

You remind me of someone I knew long ago.

You’re the one who put it there -- the power in me.

The power to love one another is the greatest power of all.

No matter where life leads us, we’ll never be apart.

Through thick and thin, success or ruin, I’ll carry you in my heart.

I will treasure forever what the world will never see.

You are kind, and that’s enough.

I wish you didn’t have to go when our story’s just begun.

Then I wish you every happiness.

It was more money than I had ever seen. But I was able to count it.

And that's the end of the true story.

[happygirl2oo2]

Fence: Striking Distance fanart I'd love see made

Please, I can't draw but I need those in my life so badly, and no this list has no order really so do whatever

Harvard and Aiden's fair date (bonus points if you include Aiden's years of dreaming of it as well)

Seiji and The Bros (any scene of your pick)

Harvard on his motorcycle (bonus points if it includes his leather jacket that he literally bought for "practicality", god I love him)

Harvard and Aiden's first time meeting as kids back in kindergarden (bonus points if that includes the full scene with Harvard being Best Boy even as a 5 year old)

The (failed) trust falls scene

Harvard and his mom (I'd take anything, really, but bonus points maybe if it's their talk after he realized he's been in love with Aiden all this time 'cause he told Aiden when he came back that that's what he did)

The scene of Seiji in the lines "He walked off, a stern, remote presence among the joyful crowd. A guy hopping on one foot almost crashed into him. On reception of a chilling glance from Seiji, he decided to throw himself upon the floor instead."

That scene of Harvard and Aiden in the hospital as kids when Harvard's dad was sick and Aiden came back after he was forced to leave 'cause he "want[ed] to be with Harvard"

Aiden and Rosita (possible ideas for it- her singing to him as a kid, the scene of them in the parking lot...)

The 'steaks run in the woods' scene

Aiden picking out his outfit for his fair date with Harvard (he canonly told Harvard that he just bought that for their date, but boy's been dreaming about this date, in detail, for years ok, so you better believe that either he had this outfit tucked away and saved for that occasion only in the hopes that it might happen and he couldn't tell Harvard that OR that he was so excited he really went shopping to get the perfect outfit for his dream date with Harvard, and I'd take a drawing of either version you want 'cause I love them both)

'Nicholas giving Seiji his fixed watch' scene

Harvard and Aiden's first time to Kings Row

"What are you doing tonight?" "Being heterosexual? Or.. maybe not?" scene

Harvard and Aiden in the rain under one coat (Harvard mentioned that it's been happening constantly since they were 10, so bonus points if if it's them, like this, over the years, eventually ending with the scene of it in the fair date)

Harvard taking care of sick Aiden

Dante being Done® with the fence team (scene to your choosing, there's a bunch)

The scene where Harvard and Aiden are being romantic while the others ignore them to focus on crime

Nickholas and Aiden's talk at the campfire

Harvard cooing over the picture Coach's baby nephew she showed him on her phone (happened in the first chapter, bonus points if you include "Aiden sneaked a glance at Harvard's glowing face and then smiled to himself" in the background)

In the same scene as the one the idea above is from, it was also mentioned that Harvard secretly collected videos of kittens and puppies being friends, so a drawing of that maybe..?

Harvard and Aiden's "Because it means nothing" scene (because apparently I'm not dead enough inside yet)

Seiji's first time at breakfast scene (Bonus points Nicholas lowkey stealing Dante's food, and extra bonus points if it includes the scene with "-the best looking guy in school, everyone agrees-"×"Wait, why are we suddenly talking about Seiji?")

Harvard and Aiden's first kiss

Harvard waking up Aiden in the morning (it's canonly said to happen a lot, so you can make it as you wish, but I have the scene if you want it for reference, and bonus points if it's them doing it over the years, starting with younger them doing it by phone like Harvard recalled and ending with it now with their room and shared bed in Kings Row. Additional bonus points if you also make the scene of him telling Aiden boring stories to help him fall asleep)

Follow up on the one above- if you end up just drawing that 'telling him boring stories to help him fall asleep' scene instead, then bonus points if Harvard starts the story with them both as kids, as he's canonly been doing it for years ever since their first sleepover, and ends it with them as they are now at their room in Kings Row

The scene with Seiji, Jesse and Aiden in the woods but the part where "“I knew it, I knew horrible things were happening at Kings Row,” Jesse muttered. He stopped tugging persuasively and pulled at Seiji’s wrist hard enough to hurt, so Seiji’s sleeve was disarranged and the dying light caught his watch. “And what ghastly object are you wearing on your wrist?!” “That’s my favorite watch,” Seiji snapped, and twisted his arm free."

Harvard and Aiden's first sleepover

The campfire scene, specifically the part in the lines "Nicholas made a grab for the big bag of marshmallows, despite Seiji’s attempts to foil him. He fought for possession of the bag while Harvard brought Aiden a drink from the cooler and Eugene protested loudly: “Watch the fire! Bros, I’m concerned you’re gonna actually fall into the huge roaring fire.”"

Aiden and Seiji little talk in the woods after they walked away from Jesse

Harvard and his mom's magazines

The night cook-in meet thing at Dante and Bobby's room (all parts of that scene are on the table but possible bonus points for the part where Harvard's smiling at a text from Neal and Aiden accidently knocks over the burner which sets the curtain on fire)

The campfire scene, the lines "Eugene reached out with hope for a fist bump. Seiji waved him away irritably. “You saw what happened with the weight lifters earlier. Do you think I am in the mood for more physical contact today?” “Understood, bro,” said Eugene, lowering his fist. “Catch you tomorrow, on another righteous teammate day! I think you’re all the best, bros!” Instantly his fist shot back up in position. Seiji gave Eugene a betrayed look. “It’s a reflex, bro,” Eugene assured Seiji. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” Seiji made a grouchy sound and moved closer to Nicholas for protection from fist bumps."

Harvard and Aiden's double date

The Nicholas and Seiji scene in the lines "Seiji clung to the curtain as if it was a security blanket and he was a big baby. "I need the curtain." "You need me," said Nicholas. Seiji Blinked. "What?" "You require my present?" Nicholas reminded him."

The two Harvard and Aiden Araté scenes, next to each other- the one in the Salle where they're fencing, kinda early in the book, and the one in their room with the last kiss, around the end of the book

Seiji seeing Dante trying to sit next to Nicholas and Nicholas telling him "hey, dude, no, I'm saving this seat for Seiji" before he come to the table and sat there

Harvard playing video games with his little cousin (he mentioned to coach, quite early in the book, that he did it occassionally)

Nicholas and the Bros at the fair

Seiji's chat with his dad (bonus points if you also drew the memory of Seiji as a kid that his dad brought up here)

The scene in the woods with Seiji, Jesse and Aiden, especially the lines "Aiden rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, there are three of them.” “There’s only one of me,” Jesse snapped. “I’m Jesse Coste.” He tossed his head up high. Seiji had seen other people quail when faced with half the fury currently gleaming in Jesse’s blue eyes or contained in the arrogant lift of his chin. “Don’t flip your hair at me, freshman,” Aiden sneered back. “I’m Aiden Kane.” Aiden shook back his own light, bright, curling hair from his face and looked down his nose at Jesse. “Who?” Jesse asked. “Ask some of the Exton boys,” Aiden drawled. “I don’t remember their names, but I guarantee you they’ll know mine.”"

Nicholas and Seiji moving the curtain scene

Eugene telling Nicholas about the prank (poor dude about to pass out while Nicholas is touched by it)

Harvard and Neal (mostly for Haiden angst in edits purposes to be honest 😬 But also 'cause Harvard is Best Boyfriend no matter who he's with and I kinda want to see it)

Seiji & Nicholas being Oblivious Freshmen

Aiden's coming out to Harvard when they were.. 15 I think it was(?) scene (it's been mentioned in Aiden's thoughts in the scene where Harvard comes out to him after his date with that girl), maybe? Idk

[im-totally-not-an-alien]

Final Fantasy prompts no 53

1. Cloud is immortal and has lived for tens of thousands of years. He has watched his friends and enemies get reincarnated over and over again. He would always interfere and save the day when things got bad, prompting legends and myths of a golden haired hero with glowing blue eyes who swore to return whenever the world was in peril.

But thats not the end.

He took great care to find his friends and keep an eye on them, watching over them as a guardian angel of sorts. When he came across Sephiroth again, he expected a battle, but seeing the dull eyes of a broken teenager staring up at him as he layed battered and bruised by his own parents? It made him realize that Sephiroth wasn't born evil.

The blond added Sephiroth to his list of people to protect.

Cloud often removed Sephiroth from the abusive households he was born into by exposing the parents for their crimes and harassing them as an anonymous individual.

Once the silverette was out of the home he would manipulate circumstances so that he would come to live with Zack or one of his other former friends.

Once he hit a certain age, he would find people Sephiroth was romantically compatible with and play puppeteer until one of them married the silverette. Cloud had done this so many times that he practically became an expert. Strangely, in the recent past lives the marriages ended in amicable divorce. He didn't know what he did wrong, so the blond began expiramenting with Sephiroths "types" again, trying to find a perfect match.

This life however, Sephiroth refused to so much as hold hands with someone romantically and Cloud is about ready to rip his hair out in frustration.

The man walked down a busy street, thinking about what to do next when Sephiroth himselfed grabbed his arm.

Startled, Cloud stared up at him.

"It's you." Sephiroth muttered reverently, as though he couldn't believe his eyes.

Cloud never made contact with these people, he had learned his lesson after the fifth time he lost Zack. He let them live out their lives, only interfering to stop something negative from happening. The blond never showed Sephiroth his face since his ninth life.

So how did Sephiroth know who he was?

2. Cloud nearly giving Denzel "The Talk"

3. Denzel accidentally calling Cloud "Dad", calling Tifa "Mom", and Marlene "my sister" until he was eventually like, screw it, and called them that without hesitation

4. Denzel got in trouble at school for beating up a group of boys that were bullying another kid.

He gets suspended and Cloud takes him out for an awesome ride on Fenrir as a reward, followed by fighting lessons from both him and Tifa, then ice cream.

5. Au where Hollander was murdered by Hojo long ago. Degradation is running rampant through Shinras SOLDIER program, killing several and weakening many more.

Genesis is determined to find a cure, after all, his life is on the line. He's eventually cornered by Angeal and Sephiroth, who pull the truth out of him, and begin aiding him in his search.

They discover AC Cloud, who is from a different dimension/timeline whose very body contains the cure.

Cloud was no longer human, and had developed new organs of unknown purpose, his body having disposed of the unnecessary organs such as lungs, gallbladder, and pancreas, and modifying the ones it kept, such as the digestive track. The catch? Now he needed to feed on large amounts of natural Mako every month to survive.

Genesis sees no problem with this and asks for the blond to save them. Cloud, however, refused, not knowing what was happening to him and knew spreading it would be the bad idea of the century.

Genesis doesn't take "No" for an answer.

Hojo finds out the blond was essentially a second Jenova and had a mini lifestream inside him and becomes desperate to get his claws on him.

6. Jenova haunts Clouds dreams, filling him with dread. Not because she was tormenting him, no. It was the opposite.

In the dreams, she held him like a loving mother. Her gentle embrace warmed him, her soft words brought him comfort, made him confide in her. That's why he was afraid.

Cloud was beginning to love her, and it terrified him.

7. Zack Fair is hereby prohibited from using any form of glitter or glue.

Why? It's Classified.

8. Au where Lazard freed Zack from under the nebilheim mansion, but also dragged him outside, leaving Cloud behind.

He lied to Zack when he woke up, telling him the infantryman was dead. He believed that Zacks chances of survival would be infinitely higher if he left the boy behind, which he would never do if given a choice. So Lazard made that choice for him.

So Zack made it to Midgar on his own.

Cloud was found by Sephiroth months later. The blond had no fight left in him and tried to merge with the other Sephiroth clone, unfortunately since his cells were mutated, Cloud could not merge with Sephiroth.

The silverette had planned to abandon this failed clone until Cloud nuzzle his face against Sephiroths gloved palm. From then on out, Cloud followed Sephiroth everywhere, doing the cooking and the laundry or whatever he could to make himself useful. He would beg the former General not to abandon him, as everyone else had done in the past.

That, admittedly pulled on his heartstings a bit. Sephiroth had also been abandoned and betrayed by his two closest friends. By the company and people he foolishly devoted his entire life to.

So Cloud stayed. His master taught him how to fight, how to care for his gear, and they bonded over shared experiences and silent companionship.

It was during that final battle, where Zack and AVALANCHE slew Sephiroth, that Cloud, hidden somewhere out of sight, swore vengeance against the man who pretended to be his friend, who he believed abandoned him and left him to rot in that hellhole after he had sworn for years that they'd get them both out, that he would save Cloud, (Cause that's what heros do!) only for him to murder the first person other than his mom to ever care about him.

Clouds body held both S and J-cells, and though they may be mutated, he could still call for Reunion. Something Zack couldn't sense due to him being an A-type SOLDIER instead of an S-type like himself.

The blond could cultivate the summoned J-cells and make them multiply under his care. He knew the best revenge was patience, after all, so long as Cloud lived, Sephiroth would never truly die.

All he had to do was stay hidden. Know one could know of him, not that they were looking for a supposedly dead man, even if they were, they would never find him in his hidden underground bunker since no one with more then three brain cells would go near the Northern Crater.

9. Sephiroth drops blatant innuendos and pickup lines all throughout his fight with Cloud, but the blond thinks he's just imagining it.

Seph actually manages to escape that time, but after the fight, his friends point out all the questionable things the silverette said.

Cloud wasn't sure if he should be relieved that he wasn't hallucinating it.

10. Tifa caught Denzel and Marlene "interrogating" a doll that was tied to a tree.

They were hitting it with sticks and yelling, "Who's your source?!" At it.

Needless to say, Reno is no longer allowed to around the children without adult supervision.

11. Kunsel began fiddling with a laser pointer, absent-mindedly tracing large slow circles on an opposing wall. He kept thinking back to all the laser pointer related incidents from the past few weeks until he noticed, much to his horror, that a few of his fellow SOLDIERS in the mess hall were tracking the little red dot with laser focus.

Pun intended.

12. Aerith had long since faded into the lifestream where she belonged, but that's not what this story is about.

Thousands of years have passed since the events of MeteorFall, and Gaia is nearly overflowing with mako energy.

Cloud felt as Gaia began remaking her WEAPONS, and couldn't help but wonder as to why. After about a year of searching he found Vincent again and asked him.

The truth was disturbing. Gaia's lifestream had outgrown the planet, and was preparing a new Omega WEAPON to suck the life out of this one and travel back to the "Mother planet"

Cloud eventually found out about Gaias plans for him by eavesdropping on conversation between Gaia herself and the Cetra from the "Mother planet". You see, Cloud has a unique relationship with the planet. He was modified using Jenovas Eldrich powers, and over time, developed his own. The blond allowed Gaia to use his body/very being as a sort of ward against all things Eldrich, and has worked spectacularly well.

Gaia planned to keep him alive as she traveled through the cosmos. That wouldn't be a problem, no the problem was that she planned to encase him in crystal and keep him there for the rest of eternity. When the Cetra mentioned breeding him so that other planets would have a ward, he nearly gagged.

He told Vincent about everything and admitted he was afraid. The only reason he remained sane all these years was because he could travel and have new experiences. He couldn't do that if he was trapped.

Vincent suggested a rocket, to which the blond revealed that Gaia herself always sabotaged the rockets and space programs. For obvious reasons. They were stuck and didn't know what to do now that it was literally them against the world. So when Vincent suggested reviving Mako energy and the SOLDIER program until they could find a way off of Gaia, Cloud didn't dismiss it.

13. Another summoning gone wrong Au where Sephiroth, Zack, and Cloud who are in the normal modern universe and are lovers in a poly relationship, decide to mess around with a spellbook Zack picked up in a shop. They were saying spells out loud and making fun of them, they also did the wierd little ceremonies and made "potions" and had a good time.

Nothing happened, until they woke up the next morning to the chocobo frantically patting them awake with his hands, stunned silent.

There, in their king sized bed, were their trans-dimensional alter-egos, done up with swords and pauldrons and...is Sephiroth wearing a fetish outfit? Said silverette poked his alter-ego with a ruler a few times to confirm he was out cold.

What were they supposed to do now?

14. Final Fantasy 7 and LoZ: Breath of the Wild crossover

Cloud lands in a new reality, but he's too focused on trying to fight the new breeds of monsters and surviving the desert heat to ponder the situation for long

And then there's all those things that keep trying to electrocute him...Clouds not having a good day.

On the other hand he has plenty of things to take his anger out on.

Also, Cloud meeting a horse! Which are critically endangered on Gaia!

15. Genesis finds Cloud post DoC and begins taunting him, but gasps dramatically when he learns the blond has never tasted Banoran apples/apple products. He drags Cloud along to get a taste. Weirdly, they get along.

[obxparadise]

Cop Car

JJ Maybank x Reader 

Word count: 1,354

~A fic based on the song Cop Car by Keith Urban/Sam Hunt~ 

A/N: If you like this, leave a comment! 

*GIF is not mine. Credit goes to the owner*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Man, they weren't playin They sure put those cuffs on quick You tried to sweet talk 'em They didn't fall for it, but I did

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Regret was the only word that wasn’t apart of JJ’s vocabulary. Whatever he did, he did with purpose. With reason. With pride. And he never regretted a damn thing, even after some Kook had called the cops on him for pulling a gun on Topper at the Boneyard.

JJ didn’t even have the chance to run as he’d been surrounded by three different police vehicles. Trying to fight law enforcement wasn’t the brightest idea either, as he now was sporting a busted lip, bruised ribs, and a torn white shirt.

In the back of the cop car, JJ sat with his head against the driver’s seat headrest, his blonde hair sticking out in every which way. The cops had done a number on him, and every time the car drove over a bump in the road, the pain in JJ’s ribs would start up again. Biting his lip, he tried to redirect his thoughts away from the pain.

“Where’d you get the gun, son?” asked Officer Shoupe. Chuckling softly to himself, JJ shook his head. There was no way in hell he would open his mouth. The cops in the OBX couldn’t be trusted. JJ learned that the hard way. “I said, where did you get the gun?”

“I have the right to remain silent,” JJ reminded, lips pulling into a smirk as Shoupe and his partner, Deputy Thomas shared an irritated look. “Ain’t that what you told me?”

“You keep actin’ out, you’ll end up just like your daddy,” Thomas remarked, hoping to rile up the sixteen-year-old boy. It didn’t though. After enduring years of abuse from his father, JJ became desensitized to comments about his dad. Letting things roll off his shoulders was better than dwelling on feelings and trying to make sense of them, at least in JJ’s mind.

“Hold on, Thomas,” Shoupe said, quieting his partner as he turned up the volume on the radio. Leaning forward, JJ could only hear bits of the dispatcher.

Robbery at Denny’s…unarmed female…seventeen…black tank top, white shorts…

Shoupe and Thomas eyed each other momentarily before pulling into the Denny’s parking lot which they had been conveniently driving by. Shoupe put the car in park before turning around, “This ain’t gonna take long. Don’t try anything stupid.”

JJ snickered as the two officers stepped out of the vehicle. “No promises, buddy.”

Not even five minutes later, JJ’s head perked up at the commotion out front of Denny’s. Almost instantly, his cheeks flushed a deep red as Deputy Thomas pushed you into the car, slamming the door behind him. JJ happily drank in the sight of you, slightly embarrassed that his cargo shorts had constricted. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? What’s your name, baby?”

Clenching your jaw, you eyed the smirking blonde beside you. JJ Maybank. The devilishly handsome Pogue with anger management problems and daddy issues. He was notorious for smoking weed, fishing, and stealing. What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into this time?

“Y/N,” Not wanting to make small talk with a known criminal, you leaned forward toward Deputy Thomas. “Officer, is this really necessary?”

“You stole from the store,” Thomas answered.

“It was a candy bar,” you retorted, wriggling your wrists in the handcuffs. “And I said I was going to pay for it, I just didn’t have enough cash.”

“Then you shouldn’t have taken it,” JJ piped up, flashing a bright smile. “If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime, princess.”

“It was for a child,” you said, teeth gritted together. “I was waiting for my brother to bring me a dollar.” As both officers ignored you, you leaned in closer, softening your voice. “Look, I really am sorry, okay? The little girl was upset and I just wanted to see her smile. This is all just one big misunderstanding.”

JJ eyed you curiously when you shot a wink his way. For a brief moment, his pulse quickened. Were they actually going to let you go?

“Sorry, kid,” Shoupe replied. Groaning, you sat back against the seat, your attempt at sweet-talking the officers one big failure.

“I’ll be damned,” JJ laughed, causing you to let out your own. “You had me fooled.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But there was somethin' bout the way The blue lights were shinin' Bringing out the freedom in your eyes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JJ was captivated. The whole way to the station, his eyes stayed glued to your face, which was solemnly pressed up against the window. The black bandana around your head kept the curls away from your cheeks, giving JJ the chance to appreciate your beauty. You were stunning, no doubt about that, but there was something about the way the bright blue cop lights brought out a twinkle in your eyes that kept JJ staring. He could almost see through you, into your free-spirited soul. You weren’t a Pogue, but your personality didn’t scream Kook either. You were somewhere in the middle, and JJ was overcome with a sudden itch to get to know you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We talked, we laughed We sat real close By the time they let us go I was already gone

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait, you brought a gun to a party?” You asked, rolling your eyes as JJ gave you a proud nod. “Are you insane?”

“Insane is my middle name,” JJ gloated. “And besides, the douche had it coming. He tried to drown my best friend. That shit won’t fly with me. And apparently,” JJ nodded toward the two officers, “Bringing a gun to a party doesn’t exactly fly with asshole 1 and 2 up front either or else I wouldn’t be here.”

You giggled as Shoupe and Thomas exchanged irritated glances, clearly fed up with JJ’s antics. Turning back to JJ, you noticed he wasn’t trying to hide his staring. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“Not my lips, sadly,” Warmth crept up your neck as JJ laughed, running his tongue along his lower lip. “Sorry, it’s just…I can’t help but think you and I come from two different worlds. Here I am being arrested for possession of a weapon, and you’re being arrested for having a heart of gold.”

Your heart skipped a beat as JJ offered a shy smile. Boldly, you scooted closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind though, as his cheek lay against the top of your head, staying in that position until you arrived at the police district.

You were let go almost immediately, but JJ had a harder time of convincing the officers to let him go. After twenty minutes, JJ was able to talk himself out of jail time. How he did it, he was clueless, but he wasn’t going to dwell on it. Instead, he ran out of the district as fast as he could, almost colliding with you.

“They let you go?” Grinning, JJ grabbed you in a hug. “How in the hell did you pull that off?”

JJ set you down before massaging his wrists. “Don’t ask questions, baby, just be glad I did.”

“Well,” you said, hands slapping against your thighs, “It’s been quite an adventure, but it looks like it’s the end for us.”

Pushing his hands deep in his pockets, JJ stepped forward, a gleam in his eyes. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“What?” your brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“I want to see you again,” JJ admitted. He was smitten with you, and if he were being honest, he didn’t want the night to end. Your smile was beautiful, your laugh was contagious, and you had a sense of freedom that drew JJ closer to you. “What do you say?”

With a new sense of confidence, you grabbed JJ’s hand, pressing a quick kiss to his bruised cheek. Smirking, you looked at the troubled boy who, if you learned anything about him that night, was a sweetheart under all the rough layers. “What kind of trouble are we getting into next?” 

[gloriafc]

Daddy's Girl

Spencer Reid × Jethro Gibbs daughter reader

Theres nothing Gibbs loved more than his daughter, even when she decided to join the BAU. He stayed supportive of her even if he disliked the other agencies that weren't NCIS.

After a few years of working as a profiler you started dating Spencer. Of course it took your dad some time to adjust to there being a new man in your life, but he eventually opened up to the idea of Spencer. You could only smile as you watched your dad warm up to your boyfriend once a random boat building fact came out of his mouth, "Sorry. Y/N mentioned you like to build boats. I have a habit of looking into new things." You could only watch with a smile on your face from your spot at the top of the stairs as your dad showed Spencer how to properly sand the wood on his boat.

When you and Spencer got married, your dad didn't even bat an eye, immediately telling Spencer he could have your hand. He trusted your now husband to take care of you. He saw Spencer as the son he never had, and he loved the look you got in your eye whenever you were around him, something he hadn't seen since you were a kid and went on your weekly ice cream daddy-daughter dates. Any man that made you look at him like the way you looked at icecream as a kid was good in his book.

Of course the only time Spencer ever seen your dad smile and get excited was when you told him you were pregnant. It wasn't until then that Spencer actually saw your relationship with your dad, how protective your dad could get.

Of course you and Spencer couldn't contain your excitement and ended up telling your team before they could read into a situation that wasn't there, Penelope being the most excited for another niece or nephew.

As your stomach quickly grew, all the men in your life made sure you were kept away from anything that could cause you and your unborn child any type of harm, unless absolutely necessary. Even then you typically dealt with the victims families during the cases and contributed to the profile and that was all your husband and boss seemed to let you do.

During a briefing you weren't exactly paying attention thinking you were just going to be pushing paperwork in the office after finding out the case was only in DC, and that this would be one of your last cases before maternity leave. Until Hotch hands you the file, making you look at him as you take the file, "You want me to actually join in this time." He doesn't even look at you, "Look at the ID of the body."

Closing the file you smirk and cross your arms, "You want me to pull the Daddy card." "I would like to keep this case as civilized as possible. I dont mind working alongside NCIS, maybe we'll be able to solve this faster. I'd rather have cooperation, than having to forcibly take the case." You just nod and sigh before Hotch offers you a hand and helps you up, "I'll call with what he says."

Knowing your dads sweet spot, you stop for coffee before making your way to NCIS. You can see the happiness on your dad face, as he grabs the cup of coffee and sets it on his desk before pulling you into his arms, "Hows my girl doing?" "Besides creating a human, kinda hungry actually." Your dad can only chuckle as he pulls out a piece of candy from his stash no one is aloud to touch. As you fiddle with the wrapper your dad asks, "What brings you here? Nothing exciting for the FBI to do so you came to snoop out a case?" "A name actually. Colonel Jeremy Walsh."

You can see the look on you dads face as he tries to keep himself from getting angry that the FBI is trying to take his case. "That's what you came for? To steal my case?" You sigh seeing Tony and Abby walking your way, "That's what the department head wants dad. My unit chief would rather work alongside you. I know you want to find your colonels killer for his family, but he's apart of a case with 10 other victims, 10 other families." You watch your dad think and push his buttons just a little bit, just like you did as a kid to get what you want. "Come on daddy. I already can't do much in the field, I need to make sure this son of a bitch is caught for these eleven families. If it was you or Spence I'd want to know the person who did it was caught."

Tony and Abby stop hearing you call him daddy and know something is about to go down. Your dad can only look at you before turning and grabbing his cup of coffee, "Fine. But we're working here." Tony and Abby approach you as you pull out your phone, "What was that about?" You reply as your phone rings, "Your colonel is one of my victims. Dads not too happy that we need what you've found to solve our case."

As you wait for your team to arrive Tony decides to bug you, "So were going to finally see you do your thing, with the husband we've only seen in the picture on your dads desk." You just roll your eyes from your dads chair, "There is no thing. I just profile, my boss, husband, and team don't let me go into the field at all. Unless it's to somewhere I can't get hurt."

When your team arrives and everyone is briefing on what they've found you stare at the map of all the crime scene locations. You stare with your head to the side and a hand on your swollen belly. Morgan moves so hes next to you, "What are you thinking Mama." You click your tongue at the nickname you received once everyone realized you are the mom friend of their group, "Our unsub has OCD." Your dad looks at you, impressed. Tony asks, "You got that. From looking at a map?" You crumble up the piece of paper in front of you, your team dodging as you throw the paper ball hitting Tony square in the face. Your dad chuckles knowing you purposely aimed for his face knowing you dont miss after years of softball. "Don't doubt me DiNozzo."

You fish through the pictures of the crime scenes, "And two maps actually." You pull out the pictures of the many severed limbs of your victims, "Every single body part that's been cut off is the same size. Every autopsy shows that each victim was strangled before getting stabbed and having a limb cut off. He followed a step by step routine with each killing." "If he had OCD wouldn't he have followed with head, arms, then legs? Not a group of heads, right arms, legs, and left arms." You look up at the map, "That was a different routine." You quickly grab a marker and start drawing on a clean map after making some points.

"A star?" You nod and pull out the original map you were looking at, "The different places the bodies were found are the points. We had the first and last victim in the same spot to finish off the star. We found where each body was severed and killed at the center of each arm of the star. Each arm of the star represents a different body part. The center of the star could be his home or where he was set off."

Everyone looks at you like you just found treasure, making Spencer jump in. "A star is symbolic for protection. He could be trying to protect what's at the center." You simply shrug, "Makes sense as to why none of the victims are connected, they were all just in the wrong place at the wrong time." Garcia quickly starts typing on her computer, having come along to use the NCIS data base, "Its a vacant lot, that was once an apartment complex. There was a fire that burned it to the ground, only two casualties. Oh", she stops before continuing, "Aaliyah Johnson and her unborn baby, leaving Peter Johnson widowed." Garcia looks at you after finishing her sentence and you can practically feel her picturing you in that situation.

Everyone quickly leaves, leaving you with Penelope, Kate, Abby, and Ducky, who's come out of his 'office' to chat while you all wait.

After a couple hours you start pacing, your baby being very active and making you uncomfortable, but you just push it off as you worrying about your dad and husband. Kate finally speaks up, "Do you always pace while you wait? Or is it just because it's not just your husband going after a psycho but your dad too?" You shrug, continuing to walk back and forth while Ducky starts speaking, "Its good for a pregnant person to walk around, it keeps them active. That's why when they're in labor they take laps around the floor to help speed labor up."

Just as he finishes his sentence you groan feeling liquid go down your legs, "You just had to say that didnt you." Everyone looks at you, making you look down at the now wet floor, "I really hope I just peed myself." You quickly lean forward grasping onto the table, "Nope its definitely not pee." Penelope and Kate quickly rush to your sides to help you get to the car, "We gotta get you to the hospital." You stop, "Oh no were not. I'm not doing this without Spence or my dad. I'm not doing this alone. They should be back any minute." Penelope just looks at you, "Y/N we both know they're not. Spencer would've called. He always calls when they're on their way back." You squeak out, "Maybe he forgot this time." She just shakes her head, "He'd never forget. You're not alone. I know it's scary but a happy moment. We can call them on our way there." You reluctantly agree and they help you into Kate's car.

Unable to reach anyone, you're quickly set up in a hospital room, Penelope trying her best to distract you, now that you've been given an epidural. "Just imagine what baby girl is going to look like." You smile listening to the heartbeat that's been echoing around the room since you arrived, "Like me with her father's curly mess."

When everything's been handled Spencer tries calling you, but your phone goes straight to voicemail. He tries three more time before looking at the team, "Y/N isnt answering. She always answers." Morgan quickly tries Garcia getting the same thing. Your dad tries Kate who immediately answers and starts yelling about how no one answered their phones. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Everyone waits. When your dad shuts his phone he can only look at his son-in-law, "Looks like your daughter is just as impatient as her mom. She's in labor." Everyone quickly piles into their cars and speed through the streets, sirens blaring, to the hospital Kate told your dad to go to.

By the time they get there it's too late, you've already started pushing. Penelope stays with you, holding your hand as you push, while Kate, Abby, and Ducky wait for everyone to arrive. Kate immediately stands seeing Spencer and your dad run into the room, shortly followed by everyone else. She just shakes her head, "She tried pushing it off as much as possible. She had to start pushing. It's only been a couple of minutes since we got kicked out."

Everyone sits in the waiting room, taking over the small room. Spencer cant help but fidget, his wife is giving birth without him. In the back of his mind he cant help but be thankful that Penelope was there when he couldn't be, but he also wishes it was him in there with you. Derek sets his hand on his best friends shoulder, "Hey she's not alone. And you're just minutes closer to meeting your daughter." Spencer can only nod before looking at his fingers.

Almost an hour later Penelope enters the waiting room, still in the gown making everyone stand. She keeps moving until shes right in front of Spencer, "Oh Spence. Shes beautiful. Y/Ns okay, they're both okay." Penelope can only hiccup as happy tears flood her eyes, "They're waiting for you."

Spencer can only look at your dad, not knowing what to do for once. "Trust me. You'll want to be in there alone for a little bit." Spencer walks down the hallway following Penelope's directions to your room as she stays behind, describing the features of his newborn daughter to their friends.

He stops in the doorway, seeing you sitting up in bed and holding a blanket wrapped bundle. From how quiet it is he can only think the baby is sleeping. Quietly he says, "Hey." You look up and put a finger over your mouth before gesturing him into the room. He makes his way over, standing next to you with his hand on your lower back. He kisses the top of your head before peering at the little girl who already has his heart. He chokes, "She's perfect." At the sound of his voice you watch as your daughter opens her eyes and looks around before locking eyes with her father, "She knows who you are already."

You slowly hand her to Spencer. He moves to sit in the rocking chair that's next to your bed as you let yourself get comfortable, listening to Spencer whisper random nothings to the small girl. You watch as she holds onto his finger before falling asleep again, "She has your eyes." "And your curls." You both watch the sleeping baby before hearing a knock on the door.

Seeing your dad in the doorway you smile. He makes his way to your bedside, placing a kiss on your head, "You got a carseat?" "I had it in my trunk. Was going to bring it over the weekend after this case, but looks like there was a change of plans. How are you feeling?" You smile, "Like I just gave birth to a baby. How does it feel to be a grandpa?" Your dad can only shake his head before his eyes travel to his granddaughter, "I remember when I held you the first time." You simply look at him. "I don't." You dad closes his eyes with a chuckle, "Smart ass."

Spencer stands up and you watch as he slowly hands your daughter to your dad, before moving to stand next to you. You watch your dad smile when a small yawn is heard, "What's her name?" "We couldnt pick between Alicia and Anna, so we made Annalisia." You dad shakes his head with a smile knowing just how indecisive you can be as he looks at the almost spitting image of his daughter in his arms, "Plenty of nicknames for that mouthful."

After a few more minutes theres another knock on the door and you smile seeing your team in the doorway, Penelope now holding balloons as Jj holds flowers. You watch with a smile as everyone fusses over the baby, thinking to yourself that you might be a daddy's girl and only had him growing up, but this girl will be loved by everyone in your makeshift family that you've built. When she starts crying shes immediately transferred to Spencer's arms to allow you to rest up, everyone watching as she immediately stops as she looks up at her dad, Morgan joking, "Look at that already a daddy's girl." Your dad chuckles from his spot next to you and nudges you, "Just like her mom."