#because this website is sometimes a piece of shit
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I hate that you can't see a tweet thread anymore if you're not logged into Twitter (as a gesture of disrespect I refuse to call it by its rebranded name). Here is a copypasta of a thread from Dan Olson, a Canadian documentary filmmaker, expanding upon camera quality, the guilt trips Somerton used to goose his Patreon subscriptions, and how the best tools will never make up for lack of dedication or patience. I have added clarifications in [[double brackets]] where I feel it is necessary.
START OF THREAD
Okay, so, back in April I snapped at James in reply to a tweet that was linking to this video (which James has since delisted but not deleted) and I want to talk about the full context of that but I don't want to make a video, put your beatdown memes away. [[The video has since been deleted. I can see the title of the video is "Maybe the end (not an April Fool's Day thing".]]
The first bit of context is that I initially got keyed into James to fact-check his claims about indie filmmaking in Canada. As a filmmaker the entire Telos venture was immediately obvious as a juvenile fantasy dreamed up by someone with no idea how to make a movie.
Just wild claims about their plans that weren't worth debunking because they bordered Not Even Wrong. But in watching one of these pitch videos I noticed that he had a $4000 current-gen camera in the background as a prop, and that seemed both pretentious and weird.
You don't use your best camera as a prop, you use your second best camera as a prop. So being an obsessive weirdo I needed to know, and I watched his BTS stuff until I spotted his main rig, a $6000 camera with about $1000 in accessories.
Now, these in isolation are unremarkable because his Patreon at the time was bringing in ~$8000 per month, his channel was a full on Business business, and so investing in some professional equipment of that level is maybe a bit indulgent but justifiable.
What was weird is that he doesn't shoot multi-cam, doesn't shoot outdoors, doesn't shoot on location, and in a studio the two cameras kinda really step on each others' toes. Basically if you already have one and don't need a B cam there's no reason to get the other.
Again, on its own, this says nothing, it's just indicative of poor financial decisions, maybe impulsive purchasing, Gear Acquisition Syndrome. Biblical sins, but not crimes.
Paired with the constantly inflating fantasy scope of the Telos films it was clearly an expression of a very, very common bad filmmaker habit of "if I just get the right gear then my movie will basically make itself" Buying stuff because it feels like progress.
At the end of February he tweets "I want to start shooting anamorphic" and then three weeks later in March he posts the worst, out of focus, under-exposed "I just got a new lens!" video I've ever seen, showing off his trash-covered bedroom.
Based on what's available for his cameras and the lead time, that's enough time to get a Laowa Nanomorph or Sirui Saturn from B&H but not enough time to get a Great Joy from the UK or a Vazen from China. And with the flaring blah blah blah, $1300 lens.
Again, [gear acquisition syndrome] is not a crime and these lenses are budget options. Bit of a pointless impulse purchase since he only used it for the Showgirls video. But this is what he was doing just a few weeks before that above video came out: effortlessly impulse purchasing lenses.
James has (had?) a habit of regularly, aggressively driving viewers to Patreon by claiming that videos were getting demonetized. While tacky, it is something a lot of queer YouTubers have dealt with, so there's precedent there. But people were noticing he did it a lot.
Mid-March he humble brags about needing to work so hard to make 6 videos in April because he has over-booked sponsorships.
Then March 29th James posts this whole incel screed on Twitter about how sex work should be "subsidized as a mental health service."
[two image descriptions.
1. "For the majority of people sex (and human contact) can be imperative to a healthy state of mind. A kind and talented sex worker can make someone feel wanted for the first time in their life. I know sex workers who have pulled people back from suicide just by being there for them."
2. "Not only should (sex work) be legal, but it should be subsidized as a mental health service."]
He spends several days getting absolutely *roasted* for this, just dragged across the pavement and read for filth, and doubles down in the replies the whole way.
So this is the context immediately surrounding James waking up on Friday, and posts the above video and the below tweet.
[image description: "We just got the lowest Patreon payout we've gotten in well over a year. Like, a "maybe we need to rethink things" kind of amount... NOT an April Fools Day thing btw. But I don't know if we'll be making videos much longer."]
Now, this unfolds in kinda two directions. The first is that I'm convinced he was just lying about this income shock in the first place.
There's a million theoretical edge cases about what maybe happened and if maybe he just misunderstood the data or saw a glitch and panicked, maybe one of those happened, I don't believe it, I think he just lied because he was salty about getting dragged and felt owed a win.
A big tell to me is that he doesn't blame Patreon. He says he doesn't know what happened, but let's be real, Patreon screws up all the time, they're the first people anyone blames if anything confusing happens, just as a reflex action, even if it's completely not their fault.
The only reason to not blame Patreon is if you already know that it's not their fault and that any investigation on their part might reveal embarrassing details.
Instead he indirectly blames his viewers for not watching enough, not sharing enough, and not turning on auto-renew.
So regardless of the unknowable truth, this segues into the second, far more offensive direction of the messaging itself. "I don't know if we'll be making videos much longer." "Maybe the end" He explicitly framed this as an immediate existential threat to his channel.
In the video he is vague about everything, leaves a ton of hazy room for plausible deniability on how long the channel can keep going, but the messaging is "I need more patrons right this minute or my YouTube channel is over."
He repeatedly evokes all the "fun stuff" they had planned that would never see the light of day if this didn't turn around right away.
And his audience received this message loud and clear. Tons of people making far, far, far less than him left very heartfelt messages about digging a little deeper to subscribe or up their pledge or unsubscribe from other channels to move their pledge to his.
1200 new patrons in one day.
Since I simply don't believe the income shock was real in the first place that would put his post-"Maybe the end" Patreon income at around $10,000 per month. US. Add YouTube income, he's spent the last seven months making around $18,000 per month.
I have seen creators scale back their capabilities to the bone purely to keep making videos for the love of just, like, making stuff even as their funding evaporated and they needed to go back to a desk job to cover their bills.
You'd have to be so outstandingly reckless with your finances as a channel that a one month spook leads immediately to "channel over, sorry about all the fun stuff we won't get to do with you, our patrons, specifically because you, our patrons, aren't giving us enough money"
And not a spook where you then spend a couple weeks crunching numbers. Oh no. A shock so violent where less than two hours later you're weeping on camera about the channel being over.
Three weeks later he brought a brand new Sony FX6v for $8000 CAD to add to his pile of cinema cameras despite the fact that he was, but scant moments earlier, in such a precarious position that a single bad month would kill his channel.
He stole your money, and for that I'm profoundly sad and angry. That's why I snapped at him in April. I'm sorry I couldn't give you the full context then, and I'm sorry if that anger upset you.
END OF THREAD
#james somerton#dan olson#hbomberguy#jesus christ tumblr#it won't let me format things the way i want#because this website is sometimes a piece of shit
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As a longtime fan of old-school film, it makes me indescribably happy to see Goncharov finally getting its due
#This is the shit I missed about tumblr man#Yeah sure twitter was nice sometimes#But did twitter ever will a fake movie into existence just for the hell of it?#I don't think so#This website is inflicting the mandela effect on the world just because it can#And it is using this power for a piece of gloriously harmless nonsense#I love it
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sideshow | jjk
You’re a successful cam girl in need of a hot guy with a big cock, and you think you’ve found your match.
Word count: 9k
Warnings: smut, dub-con fantasy.
# cam girl!reader, coffee shop AU, mutual pining, hand job, oral sex (female and male receiving), squirting, face sitting, restraints, unprotected sex, face-fucking, dacryphilia, overstimulation and post-orgasm torture, teasing/degradation, cream pie, cum play, recording kink, dub-con role play, they’re so cute *sobs*
A/N: let’s not ask about this and enjoy it without wondering where the inspiration came from.
You’re always staring at him. When you’re in line waiting for your order, chatting with someone else when he’s nearby, or even when you secretly spot him working as you pass by the window – you’re always staring at Jeon Jungkook.
Your friends mock you for it whenever they get the chance. It’s almost as if you, the sexy, mysterious girl who records herself for a living, having such a silly, wholesome crush on someone was the most amusing thing they’ve ever heard. But a guy like him, so kind and hot and funny, is worth it, and you won’t deny it.
But being honest, they’re right by showing their surprise. You just don’t come off as the kind of girl who’d fall for a guy like him.
Apart from being kind, hot, and funny, Jeon Jungkook is also extremely popular while still being down to earth. An endangered specimen – if there’s ever been one before. He’s got his tattoos, and his adorable dog, and his decent schoolwork managing skills, and his outstanding talent at any sport to ever exist. And in the meantime, you sometimes catch him staring back, so your mind has to work twice as much to fish for an excuse. You just think it’ll be better in the long run.
Because honestly, people always talk. They point at you, make comments, or ask creepy questions. Surely Jeon Jungkook, with his brilliant future, doesn’t want that just because his cock might get hard with one of your videos.
In a way – a stupid, pointless way – you’re always staring at each other.
“You could try and talk to him one day, you know. Maybe then you’ll see there’s literally not a single thought behind those silly doe eyes.”
You can’t help laughing at Seokjin’s words, almost choking on your coffee. “Isn’t that a bit mean? I thought you liked him.”
“And I do!”
“Hm, look at the time.” You check your phone before putting it back into your purse. “I’d better hurry if I don’t wanna keep my sister waiting. We’ll talk later, okay? And I will not approach him just because. I really don’t need any gossip about me.”
Well, you’re just stressed. You need some money for your Spring break trip to the beach, but you aren’t exactly thrifty. Actually, you’re quite the opposite.
So, you’ve come up with an idea: charging for requests and uploading them to your website. The answer from your subscribers was immediate and increasingly positive, with only one problem.
The most voted idea was a POV, which sadly required another person to join you. Someone with a big, nice cock if it’s possible. You’d ask Seokjin, but he’d never let his almost little sister-like friend suck his cock and give him four orgasms in a row. And it’s not something you’d do either in a world where you weren’t desperate.
You’re not going to lie, there’s only one person you’d want to do that video with – and he’s walking out into the backbar right now.
The two of you stop at the same time as you walk past each other. Not noticing his presence next to you, you keep looking at the poster with the newest sweet additions to the menu and sigh with satisfaction at the fact that you’ll be able to keep enjoying your good old butter croissants.
Then you turn around.
“Oh, shit— sorry! God, I’m so clumsy! Let me help you.”
You squat down to pick up the broken pieces of glass scattered on the floor. When you look up, you’re met with the sight of a staring Jeon Jungkook bent in front of you.
“I’m sorry,” you manage to repeat.
His lips twitch as if he wanted to say something, but the man keeps quiet as you hand him back his stuff. You can’t help looking down at his muscular arms, covered in black ink. Although Jungkook remains impassive and cool, here you are, practically malfunctioning – while he’s probably wondering why the cam girl hasn’t left yet.
“Just— be careful. Don’t cut yourself.”
He does look like a bunny, now that you think of it. A really hot bunny.
Fucking shit, you can’t help it, can you? To stare, to drool, to picture your hands stroking down his chest, kneading the flesh. You love ripped guys, especially when it doesn’t get over their heads. You’d eat him up in a second, pinky promise.
“Sorry,” you say again, standing up. “I wasn’t looking.”
“Y/N! Are you okay?”
Namjoon rushes up to you, breaking the strange silence between you and Jungkook. He sees the mess and starts to pick up the broken pieces, asking you to step back just in case. With a nod, the youngest offers to go and fetch a broom, and Namjoon thanks him.
Your friend lets out a laugh. “Only with my homeboy, huh?”
“Hm?”
“You only get like this with Jungkookie,” he explains. “The rest of the time, you’re a merciless succubus.”
“Shut up, he’s gonna hear you,” you groan.
Namjoon starts wiping the floor, and you help him by picking up the plastic bag.
“Do you think he likes you back?”
You shrug. “I guess he might be attracted to me, but I don’t think he likes me... in that sense. I don’t care, though – it’s not like we’re a match or something. I’m probably just attracted too.”
Jungkook comes back with the broom and cleans the floor while you look around in a poor attempt to avoid his eyes. You don’t notice the way he looks at you, nor the pent-up frustration with which he grips the stick of the broom, his lips twitching again.
“Well, I, uh— I’ll leave you to it. And sorry again, I wasn’t looking.”
With that, you rush out of the coffee shop and run down the street until you reach the number you were looking for. Taking out your keys, you open the door and walk in, going directly to the second floor.
When you get into the flat, the storm unleashes:
“God, I was so worried! You should’ve told me you’d be running late.”
Like always, visiting your older sister comes with a nagging and a steamy cup of coffee. You’re enjoying both of them sitting in her kitchen.
“You’re exaggerating,” you groan.
“Yeah, sure, it’s not like any of your creepy fans could ever doxx you or something and kidnap you.” With a raised eyebrow, you stare at her over the mug. “Hm, okay, just build the habit of telling me if you’re gonna be late, okay?”
“Okay.”
“So” – she turns around with a grin and leaves her mug in front of you – “who is this Jungkook guy and why haven’t you asked him out already?”
Your face turns a bright red. “How do you know about—? Fucking Jin...”
“Come on, you’re usually bolder. You really like him, don’t you?” At your shrugging, your sister chuckles. “You’re entitled to like people, you know that, right? And hit on them, and ask them out. Just because you had a few bad experiences—”
“It’s just not gonna happen,” you blurt out. “You know why? First, because he’s not remotely interested in me. And second, because I know, I just know how this is going to end if I do,” you continue, your face growing warmer. “And I don’t care about all the nice guys out there because, in the end, they’re all the same; dicks with an excuse of a brain.”
“You want to have sex with him, don’t you?”
“Uh, yeah?”
She laughs again. “Then try the opposite! You think he’d only be interested in the shagging? Go shag. And then see if he stays.”
You bury your face in the palms of your hands, thankful for the chilly contact. The skin cools down, and a sigh escapes from your lips.
“What if he says no?”
“Then he doesn’t want to fuck. That’s uncommon for a man so, one point for him.”
Ah, yes, your sister and her logic; it’s utterly stupid and yet, you always fail to rebuke her absurd reasoning. It’s almost a talent, you think. Maybe that’s why she’s a lawyer.
“Well, I do have a plan,” you murmur.
Her eyes brighten immediately. “Then go for it, tiger! He’s super cute, and super hot! Better get your heart broken by a ten if all men suck.”
The coffee shop is almost closing when you arrive; you had asked Namjoon who was closing tonight so, when you heard it’d be him, you rushed out of your sister’s place to get there in time. This is a one-time chance.
You spot him behind the window, wiping a cup.
There’s a sigh coming out from his mouth when the door jingles open. The common frustration of having a last-minute customer.
“Hey.”
“Ah— it’s you,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, and you frown. “I-I mean, I thought you were some annoying random, sorry… I don’t mind making you a coffee.”
Oh, that was nice. Very nice.
You quietly take a seat at the counter. “Thanks.”
“Uh, so…” You’re lucky Jungkook isn’t facing you, turned from you instead as he turns on the coffee machine. Otherwise, he’d notice your red face and the eagerness with which you listen to him as he stutters, “I-it’s pretty late— for a coffee. Do you have to stay up late tonight?”
“Not exactly.”
Finally, Jungkook turns around and hands you the coffee, looking pretty much puzzled.
“I was wondering if you’d like to work with me,” you finally let out, and your chest feels weightless for a second— until you come back to earth and realise that you’ll have to hear an answer.
He’s looking at you in complete silence.
Maybe he really doesn’t know that you’re a cam girl? Maybe he’s just thinking about what your job could be and how could the two of you possibly work together. Or maybe he’s just zooming out, who knows? It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Do you want me to, uh, e-edit a—?” Jungkook gets cut off by his own coughing as his cheeks turn red. “Sorry, edit a video... for you?”
Ah.
Of course he knows.
He knows, so there’s a chance he might have watched one of them. Maybe all of them. Perhaps Namjoon told him about it, or perhaps he thought you looked familiar and asked him. In his mind – and that’s what makes it awkward, and not the fact that he’s probably watched you naked or touching yourself – he knows what you work for, and every single interaction is stained with that.
“Uh— not... Not really.” You don’t notice, but Jungkook holds his breath, and his heart starts beating faster. “It was more along the lines of making one together.”
Your heart is beating fast too.
“Me?”
Well, I’ve been told that you’ve got a big cock, oh, and because I have a crush on you.
You shrug. “Thought you could use the money, and you do have a nice body— your face wouldn’t show, though.”
“I, uh...”
“Just asking if you were down!” you blurt out then, stepping back. “Of course, it’s up to you. I understand if you’re not comfortable with us, uh, having—”
“I-I get you,” he laughs. Now his face is as red as a strawberry.
In silence, you stand there, waiting for an answer. However, it seems like neither of you is functioning properly at the time, so you clear your throat with your heart clenching painfully in your chest and let out a shaky laugh:
“Of course, it’s too weird, so, uh— forget I said anything. Thank you for considering it, have a nice day!”
You rush out of the café, but his voice stops you:
“Wait!”
You turn around and look at him; he looks positively embarrassed, even more than you, although it’s understandable – probably due to the circumstances – so, you wait, breath hitching, for him to continue.
Jungkook looks away. “I— I didn’t say no.”
“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” you rush to clarify. “That’s my number.” You hand him a business card, which he seems too afraid to check. “Call me… if you’re interested. I’ll leave now, thank you for your time. And— uh, nothing. Bye.”
“Bye…”
By the time you leave the coffee shop, your heart is beating so hard that you think it could be a stroke. Your cheeks are boiling hot, and you struggle to walk down to the bus stop while your legs wiggle. You did it, it’d done – you’ve already asked Jeon Jungkook to film an erotic video with you for your page.
You don’t get any signs of life from Jungkook until two days later, at two in the morning.
Namjoon told you that they had met some friends for a drink after closing time, so you’re not surprised that he’s up so late. He also tends to go to bed late when he stays up playing console games.
[Saturday, 2:17 AM] Unknown: Hello, Y/N.
[Saturday, 2:17 AM] Unknown: It’s Jungkook.
[Saturday, 2:18 AM] Unknown: I have been thinking about it and, if the offer still stands, I accept.
Your heart immediately somersaults the glowing letters on your screen. Reality fell on your shoulders, and you finally understood that you would be filming that video with Jeon Jungkook. Maybe you could ask him out on a date later, but it’d be tomorrow’s you’s nuisance to worry about rejection. For the time being, you’re going to get on with the script so that you can send it to him as soon as possible.
[Saturday, 5:43 AM] You: Cool, I’ve attached the script. Just let me know if there’s anything you don’t feel comfortable with or want to change. When are you free?
[Saturday, 5:44 AM] You: Of course, we’ll go through your limits before filming.
Jungkook’s reply doesn’t arrive in time for you to read it; as soon as you’re done with it, you plummet into your bed and fall asleep, totally exhausted.
[Saturday, 5:49 AM] Jeon Jungkook: Looking forward to it!
[Saturday, 5:49 AM] Jeon Jungkook: I mean
Jeon Jungkook has deleted this message
Jeon Jungkook has deleted this message
The bell goes through your head like a nail. Your mouth is dry and your body trembles, but you get up to open the door in the hope that it’s not Jungkook behind it.
After you had sent him the script, it took him a while to answer. Then, after three hours, he only answered ‘okay’ and asked you when you would be meeting. You agreed on the day and time, and here you are, turning the doorknob with your heart beating through your chest.
“Hi, come in.”
You step aside, and Jungkook walks into your small flat; it’s cute and cosy, with the golden light coming in through the windows. His black clothes soak in it as you watch him get comfortable and, for a second, it feels like he’s coming over for a date, just to hang out. It feels nice, that small, minute, short second.
“Want anything to drink?”
“Yes—” Jungkook clears his throat. “Yes, please. Water’s good.”
You come back with two glasses of water and sit in front of him on the couch, determined to calm down your nerves.
“Okay, so, I understand that you read the script, right?” you ask, and he nods instantly, perhaps too quickly. “Uh, so… is there anything you’d like to change? Anything you don’t feel comfortable with?”
Jungkook glances at you only to look away in the blink of an eye. He’s biting his lip again.
“No, hm, everything sounds good so far. I mean— t-there’s nothing I don’t like, like… there’s nothing that turns me… off.” He eventually gets discouraged to keep talking and gulps down the glass of water in front of him. “Sounds good, you know, with the angle you suggested.”
“Nothing at all? Are you sure? I wrote a lot of things.”
He keeps avoiding your eyes. “Yeah, I’m cool with it… And I brought the test results.”
“Good,” you murmur and take the papers as he hands them out to check them. “All clean, that’s good. I’ve got mine too, and I’m on birth control, obviously.”
“Cool.”
“I liked your suggestions for the plot, by the way.” Maybe it’s better to give Jungkook some praise for his effort, that way he will relax a little around you. “A bit wicked— but in a good way. Did you get it from a movie?”
He turns red in a second, and you have to press your thighs together. “N-no, I— it just came to my mind. I can add the effects later.”
You nod slowly and clear your throat.
Once the both of you have gone through every single detail of the script, you’re half turned on, half mortified. It’s almost as if your brain hasn’t fully processed that you will be doing all of this with Jungkook in an hour, or maybe even earlier.
“It’s okay if you’re nervous,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t come off shaky. “And, well, we can stop at any moment, okay? We’ll just stop everything, no hard feelings.”
“Thank you…”
You give him a robe and show him the bathroom, where he gets changed and washes up only to return to your bedroom; that’s where you record everything, but there is a tarpaulin covering the whole wall, including the window. This way, and with a VPN, you make sure you keep your affairs decently hidden.
You’re also wearing a robe when Jungkook walks in, revealing the sight of your cleavage.
You walk up to him. “All good?” you ask. “Do you want anything? A glass of water? Viagra, or an energy bar?”
Jungkook stares at you, a bit surprised, or taken aback by the joke. You turn around in shame, with an apology on your lips, before you notice the way his cheeks turn red and an amused smile creeps to his own.
“A glass of water’d be great, thanks.”
When you return from the kitchen, you’re also bringing along a bunch of papers. “Here are the test results, I’m all clean. Thank you” – Jungkook hands you his own results, and you skim-read them – “I’m also on birth control, in case I didn’t tell you already, so feel free to, uh…”
“O-okay, gotcha.”
Luckily, he doesn’t make any faces as you shut up, discouraged; why are you acting like an idiot who has no idea what she’s doing? He’s probably regretting it already.
You have prepared the props for filming in your room; your bed, which you insisted on buying with a bar headboard, is already set with the ropes, so all that remains is to tie the victim with them. You’ve done the same with the foot of the bed, as well as the POV camera that’s fitted just above his head. He’s wearing a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and you’ve put on a shirt that shows your nipples through and a pair of panties that are a bit too small so that your folds are marked.
What can you say: you consider yourself a meticulous creator.
“Okay, so I think everything’s ready. You can lie down now; I’ll take care of the rest.”
When Jungkook is finally lying on the bed, you straddle him to fasten the ties around his wrists and ankles.
It’s weird to feel his warm body beneath you after pining for him for so long; you can feel his thighs tensing and flexing under your ass, how he shifts on the mattress, looking down at your hands and how they skilfully tie him to the bed headboard. His eyes burn wherever they land, you fear you might be getting a bit of stage fright.
“How are you doing?” Jungkook murmurs a ‘good’, looking up at you. “Cool… Then we can get down to business.”
Holding your breath, you lean into him to turn on the camera and, as soon as the red light appears, you realise you’ve been holding it for too long and let out a deep sigh. Time to get into character. Don’t think about it, Y/N.
You look down at him; Jungkook stares back, waiting for you to get on with the script.
Faking a wicked smile, you bend over him and dive on his neck for a kiss, being as loud as possible, slurping and groaning. He shivers beneath you, and you feel yourself already getting turned on just by having him at your mercy like this. After all, this is supposed to be erotic.
Suddenly, Jungkook fixes your knee on his crotch and moves it a bit to the left, taking you by surprise.
“Are you awake, sweetheart?” you ask, pretending you aren’t surprised.
As you wait for a response, you bend down to leave a trail of pecks down his jaw and neck, peppering kisses on his shoulder now, as Jungkook stirs beneath you again.
“Uh… w-where am I?” he asks as he stares down at you with a pitiful frown. “Who are you?”
You let out a giggle. “I was hoping you’d recognise me, but I guess I need to be humbled… I’m the girl of your wet dreams, baby.”
“I-I don’t know what—”
You attack his lips this time, delving for a deep kiss. Jungkook eventually closes his eyes and gives in to your kiss, uttering a meek whimper against your lips and pulling at the ropes to no avail. When you move away, you sit on his crotch, happily surprised.
“Oh, what do we have here? Someone’s waking up, look.”
Before he can say anything, you pinch his tip over his trousers. He twitches again, leaking precum, as you can tell from the way a wet patch appears in the fabric.
“I’m sure it’s small, so tiny I wouldn’t even feel it,” you snicker, “but I’ll use it anyway, maybe as a plug for my butt.”
Jungkook whines, feeling himself getting even harder. “I-it’s not small—”
Honestly, when you dropped by the coffee shop and asked him to work with you on a video, he couldn’t believe it. It had always remained a fantasy, and he feared for a second that someone had ratted him out about his crush on you. ‘Someone’ as in ‘Kim Namjoon’, of course.
Jungkook has spent many hours thinking of different ways to ask you out on a date. Ever since he met you, he’s grown obsessed with you and your personality, charm, beauty, and confidence. When he started to notice you getting shy around him, a small flame of hope lit up inside of him, but why would you be into a guy like him? Yes, he isn’t bad looking, but surely, you’d be more into big, strong, sexual guys, wouldn’t you? Real men who had lots of experience in bed.
On the other hand, Jungkook becomes such a mess every time he’s around you; he drops things, he’s unable to form a coherent sentence, and you never seem to be too interested in talking to him for more than five seconds.
Now, is Jungkook in love with you? Before, he would have denied it, that this was just another crush. But now that he’s so close to you, that he can feel the sweat on your skin, that he’s one with you, he has to ask you out. Otherwise, he’ll never be happy again.
Especially now that the feeling of you straddling his lap and playing with his cock is ingrained in his memory.
“Let me go,” he barks, suddenly remembering that he has a script to follow. “I— I won’t tell anyone if you let me go now.”
You lean into him and stroke his cheek. “Why would I?”
Sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, you silence any possible reply from him and kiss him hard against the mattress. Your ass ruts against his cock mercilessly, almost by instinct, eager to feel his whines die in your mouth.
Your hands find their way beneath his shirt. With eager fingers, you brush his nipples and, hearing him whimper, keep pinching them as he stirs, fleeing your touch but at the same time seeking it. You chuckle and tease him for it, and Jungkook can only close his eyes with the genuine wish that he won’t come too soon, or at least before you get the footage you want.
You keep humping his clothed cock, now visibly hard and standing proudly against the fabric of his sweats. Between kisses, you tell him how well he’s doing.
“Let’s make a deal, shall we?” you suddenly say.
Jungkook struggles to peel his eyes open. “W-what deal?”
“If you manage not to cum before me, I’ll let you go,” you continue. “You will be totally free.”
“And— if I do?”
Shit, you forgot about this part. What happened if he came…? You can think of the paragraph and the page, but you really can’t remember the rest of the lines, shit. You totally suck at this—
“I’ll milk your cock dry until you beg me to stop – and only then will I think about it.”
Jungkook stares at you in shock, and for a second, you fear that your impromptu response has gone too far. But then you feel something hard rubbing against your pussy, and you realise that he is unconsciously humping you, twitching and getting bigger and harder.
“You’re fucking nuts,” he cries out.
But you only giggle in response, shoving your hips together as if you were actually riding him. You let out a loud moan, too exaggerated to be true. The constant pressure of your pussy against his crotch makes him arch his back, desperately trying to hold his own whines and grunts to save you the satisfaction of proving you right.
“Look at you! You poor thing,” you exclaim in laughter. “I’m gonna fuck your virgin cock until you pass out.”
Jungkook goes still.
“Oh, thought I didn’t know?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.
“I—”
You bend down and bite on his neck only to soothe the sting with your tongue. “You thought I didn’t know you’ve never been touched before? You’re popular, but women terrify you, don’t they? You see them and only notice their hard nipples through their shirts and their tight pussies peeking from under their short skirts, and that makes you nervous; if they’re nice to you, you’re not interested. If they’re mean, you spend all day imagining them spanking you or sitting on your face… Don’t lie, you’re a sicko who wants a woman to spit in your mouth and fuck your cute little cock. Do you call them mommy in your fantasies? A mean mommy with a fat ass to hump your pathetic dick and huge tits to suck on.”
“S-shut up,” Jungkook cries out. “Shut up, shut up— you have no fucking idea, y-you don’t know shit—”
“I’d show you my tits and you’d come on the spot,” you laugh.
“S-stop lying!”
“Jesus, you’re gonna burst your pants from how hard you’ve got, sweetheart. And I’m nuts? At least I’m not getting hard just because a girl is making fun of me.”
You start bouncing on his crotch, laughing. The constant pressure of your ass against his cock makes him squirm, spilling out an amusing mixture of insults and plaids for mercy. His cheeks are warm with a blush of embarrassment and arousal.
“No wonder no one has ever touched this cute little cock!” you chirp, finally shoving your hand into his pants. “I bet you spend all day locked in your room, watching porn or hentai or whatever losers like you are into. Fucking into your own hand like a bitch in heat. Thank goodness you live alone, because you would live in constant fear of your mom finding your dirty comics or the huge amount of dry jizz all over your plushies and pillows.”
“I— I always clean up after myself,” he whimpers in the sweetest voice possible, and you wonder if he’s actually being honest.
Time to find out. “Yeah? You don’t fuck into your pillow thinking it’s your crush’s wet pussy and leave it full of your cum with the pathetic feeling that you’re filling her up?” you grunt, getting riled up. The thought of Jungkook wanting to do it to someone else makes your blood boil.
“Y-yes!” Jungkook finally cries out. “Shit, shit— I always fuck my pillow thinking it’s you!”
The woman was too stunned to speak.
“Fuck, it— it always leaks out, I’ve always got so much cum saved up for— for you, mommy. I imagine it’s your pussy I’m filling up, want to milk my cock into your cunt until you’re happy.”
The ache between your legs worsens, and you have to rub your thighs together to ease the pent-up arousal; you’re dripping, could simply sit on his pretty cock and ride him until he’s a crying mess – but this has got way out of hand, you need to get the video back on track.
And you shouldn’t think about why he immediately thought of you when you brought up his crush.
You lean on him and spit on his lips, making him yelp. “Yuck.”
“M-mommy, please—”
“Ugh, shut up.”
Raising your hips off him, you take off your panties; indeed, they are ruined and soaked with your juices. Their only use is to gag Jungkook, and there they go, straight into his mouth.
He has to close his eyes when the scent of your arousal reaches his nose.
It takes him a couple of seconds to process that you’re naked now, at least from the waist down. Only your breasts are covered behind the thin white fabric of your tank top. It’s too small, so the sides of your tits stick out, and the neckline is too wide and barely covers your nipples.
Now, his eyes wander down to your pussy; glistening and dripping wet, Jungkook notices the way you rub your thighs together from time to time.
Kneeling over him, you sit on his chest and lift up your shirt, trying not to care that you’re leaving a trail of your juices across his skin. You’re right on top of the camera, and it really looks like Jungkook’s point of view. So, you grab his head and push it between your tits.
“Slow, dummy babies don’t get to suck on mommy’s boobs, darling. Hurry up.”
His eyes locked with yours, Jungkook opens his mouth to suck on your left nipple as you cradle his head. The contact sends shivers down your spine. Still bound to the bed, he struggles to turn his head and reach closer, eager to flicker his tongue around your sensitive nub.
“That’s it, baby, so good,” you groan.
He shifts to your other breast, and you allow him, too hooked on the pleasure to question his intentions.
Jungkook flicks his tongue with eagerness, hunger, almost desperation. His hips buck into the air, and his restrained cock keeps leaking precum, a wet patch appearing on the fabric. He sucks on your nipple like his life depends on it, unhinging his jaw to reach what he can’t touch.
Shit.
You’ve gone off script enough as it is.
You push him away, and he whimpers. “Well done, sweetheart,” you groan, “but mommy has other plans for you.”
Taking off your shirt, you’re now fully naked on top of him. Jungkook’s eyes roam around your figure and drink it up the sight of your bare body on top of him like it is water and he’s dying of thirst.
It’s time for the good shots, so you turn around so that your dripping folds are right in front of the camara – and right on top of his face, but that’s just a little gift for you. You’re facing his crotch, and with eager hands, you pull down his pants and underwear at the same time, letting his big, red, leaking cock spring up against his stomach. It’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, and your mouth waters just at the thought.
Meanwhile, Jungkook has been struggling with the tempting sigh of your pussy right above his head. It tickles his tongue, makes his lips twitch; he can only think about ravishing your cunt like a madman.
It’s practically instinctive when his neck is stretched upwards. You said you were okay with oral. In fact, you enjoyed it. The script is just something to guide you as to the plot; the rest, it can go as it comes up. That torture you promised him wasn’t scripted either, but it’s made his cock hard as if he was in heat. And, if you don’t like it, you can use the safeword too.
Just a bit more while you keep playing with his cock in your hands.
His tongue is already out, like a dog. That’s pretty much what he feels like right now, desperate to fuck your pussy with his mouth.
Shit, you’re dripping.
“I wonder if you can get even harder,” he hears you ramble.
As you get comfortable on top of him, your hips are getting closer to his reach. Your ankles rest under his forearms, you didn’t notice he could lick you for at least a few seconds.
Jungkook doesn’t stop to think and delves his tongue into your pussy, proceeding quickly to suck and lap at your clit. Your juices soak his face, but that only makes his erection grow. Your clit reacts instantly, throbbing between his lips.
“What the— s-shit, Jungkook, what are you—” you manage to moan.
Your first instinct is to push your legs away, but Jungkook is pressing down with his forearms and, by the time you think of moving your hips away, you’re already melting with pleasure. His tongue is quick to lick your clit over and over, relentlessly, as you thrust back. Using his forearms again, he pulls you by your legs so that you’re practically sitting on his face, bent over him, grunting his name.
Saliva runs down his chin. Your taste on his tongue has shoved him into a thoughtless state, he’s only thinking about making you come. His tongue parts your lips and fucks into your entrance with wet, sloppy strokes.
Jungkook lets out a whimper. “Fuck, as good as I thought it’d be,” he cries out, his voice muffled by your folds. “Mummy got dripping just from playing with me, so fucking m-mean—”
You arch your back and thrust back against his tongue, feeling the tension in the pit of your stomach.
He’s got your ankles well locked, and you’re still torn between control and pleasure, so you simply squirm on top of him while Jungkook keeps ravishing your pussy now that you can’t close your legs – nor do you really want to.
But shit, he’s going to make you come if he keeps this up. And, if you do, the deal is off, and the video is over. You’d love to squirt all over his face and force him to drink it up, but you’ve got other plans for him and for you so, as much as you’re loving getting tongue-fucked by this bratty little shit, it’s time to stop him.
“My baby really wanted to lick mummy’s pussy, didn’t he?” you blurt out with a laugh, and his cock twitches, a drop of precum rolling down from his tip.
“W-what?”
“How was your first cunt, sweetheart?” you continue. “Better than your hand, huh? Better than the sad, pathetic hole you make in your stuffed animals to stick your dick in and think it’s me.”
A tear of embarrassment rolls down his cheek. “T-that’s not—”
“Let me return the favour.”
While Jungkook, in a desperate attempt to make you cum, keeps licking and sucking your pussy, you keep yourself decently composed and let a trickle of saliva drip onto his tip. Before he can say anything else, you’re engulfing his cock until your nose is pressed against his pubic bone.
“F-fuck!”
You try to fight a wicked smile with his cock around your lips.
Jungkook’s hips twitch, but that only makes the tip of his cock bump into your throat, ripping a sob from him.
You start bobbing your head up and down; he pulls at his restraints, his head turning to his sides as two thick tears of pleasure roll down his cheeks. Guess this probably is his first time being deep-throated, so better ruin it for everybody coming after.
Fortunately, his bratty tongue is too busy crying and moaning to pay any attention to your pussy, so you sit on his chest and get momentum.
His cock feels hot in your mouth, leaking precum. It’s salty as it mixes with your own saliva running down his shaft. Jungkook is sweating all over, his head spinning like he’s having a fever; after all, the wet heat of your mouth around his cock is too much to handle. It’s coated in your spit, sending waves of pleasure down his spine, making his toes curl, his throat sore from grunting and sobbing. You hollow your cheeks and swallow around him, the vibrations of your moans only worsening the pleasure pooling in his lower back.
“Fuck!” he cries out again. “Of fuck, p-please—!” Jungkook can’t even properly thrash with his feet as they’re tied to the bed as well. “So good, so fucking good!”
You pull the foreskin back to expose the head and dip your tongue into the slit, savouring the taste of his arousal. For a second, you wonder if he’s never really got proper head or if he’s just very sensitive, but you shove the thought to the back of your head and keep going.
“Got anything to say about that misbehaviour from earlier?” you ask, licking down to the base.
“Dunno—”
“Ah, yes, you do.” Your voice comes out soft, too soft. It sends chills down his back. “You grabbed mommy’s ass and ate her pussy without permission, remember?”
Leaning on his thighs, you manage to turn around to face him. You notice his red face and dilated pupils, and he notices your slick, swollen lips.
To your surprise, Jungkook smirks. “But mommy loved it, didn’t she? I almost made her cum—”
You shut him up by swallowing down his cock again, even if he is right; only a couple of minutes more and you would have come all over his face. But you haven’t, and that’s all that matters. Now you have to make him cum so that you can start torturing his spent cock until he’s crying for you to stop.
Jungkook may be used to keeping it down at his shared flat and know how to be quiet, but you can always tell when a guy is close, and you’re surprised at how much he’s been holding it. From how swollen and purplish his cock looks, how much he’s leaking, and the way it reacts, throbbing and twitching at your touch, he must have been on edge for a while.
“Are you a masochist, perhaps?” you ask, rather to yourself.
Your hands find his base again and start pumping him, both of them. The contact feels kind of dry, though, despite his arousal dripping through your fingers, so you bend down and spit on the head again.
“I wouldn’t be surprised, really,” you continue, jerking him off like it’s just one more chore. “A crazy chick ties you to the bed to fuck you and the first thing you do is get a hard-on. No wonder only your plushies are willing to let you hit it— though they can’t really say anything, can they?”
With a shaky gasp, Jungkook bites his lip and closes his eyes; he needs to stop either seeing or hearing you if he wants to hold on any longer, but your breasts are right in front of him, covered in a glistening layer of sweat, your erect nipples that he just had in his mouth, your pussy radiating heat and dripping down your inner thighs. If only you would sit on his cock and ride him until you cum and scream with pleasure, choke him, spit in his mouth, use him like he uses his poor childhood stuffed animals.
Then this torture would be over, he would climax inside you and stuff you with his cum, til it’s dripping. And the next torture would begin.
“Come on, the last test. If you pass it without cumming, I’ll let you go, okay, sweetheart?”
Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts; suddenly, you’re straddling his lap, the tip of his cock brushing against your folds. The brief pleasure, more like a feeling-induced fantasy turned into a touch, makes him shudder and take a deep breath.
“This” – you yank off his shirt, buttons popping out – “off.”
Raking your nails through his hair, you yank it and force him to look at you in silence. His chest heaves and falls as he stares into your eyes.
Your thumb strokes his bottom lip. “It’s a pity that such a pretty face belongs to a pervert like you.”
“I’m not a pervert!”
“Yadda, yadda,” you mock him, tilting up his chin to get access to his jaw and bite him. “Whatever, I have no interest in your pathetic excuses – if you weren’t a pervert, you wouldn’t be hard right now.”
“I-it’s a biological response!” Jungkook insists.
“Hm, yeah, sure. Then you won’t mind if I don’t fuck you, right—? What’s more, you’ll be glad.”
To add weight to your words – and torture him a little in the process – you start moving your hips up and down against his cock, rubbing him with your folds. He twitches between your inner thighs, and you keep circling and undulating your hips over his tip, every now and then pretending you’re going to finally sit on him. His head penetrates you for a second, and you fuck yourself on it, one, two, three thrusts until you decide to press your ass against it.
“Just imagine if I let you fuck my ass,” you laugh. “Just think about it, sweetheart.”
“It’d be s-so tight,” he blurts out, “around my cock! Shit, I wish I could— I wish I could eat your ass, and then your pussy, and then fuck you open with my cock—”
“Fuck—”
You find yourself grinding on his swollen tip, rubbing your clit against his sensitive skin, too turned on by his words; yeah, you’d like him to eat your ass as well. Jungkook is trying to muffle the whimpers coming through his lips, but the pressure is getting heavier.
Moving in a quick thrust, you sit down on his cock. He works you open as it disappears into your body, a moan leaving your lips. Your fingers dig into his shoulders for leverage, hips setting a pace as you bounce on his cock. It massages your inner walls, with sounds of smacking flesh, working thigh muscles as you melt at the shocking waves of pleasure.
“Ngh—” Jungkook lets out a whimper and pulls at the restraints. “Fuck! Oh, fuck—”
Your skin prickles, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone. It’s dripping, the ache between your thighs expanding while you chase your climax.
Jungkook pants, head bumping against the headboard, victim to the rolls and thrusts of your hips. Your tits are bouncing right in front of him, their round shape and hardened nipples so, so tempting, making his mouth water while his cock throbs and twitches between your walls. You clench around him, and he whines again. His nerves feel on fire, and the sight of your bare figure fucking yourself on his cock only worsens it.
Your hand slithers to pinch one of your nipples. Playing with it, arching your back, you let out a huff and roll your hips in undulating waves, cunt engulfing him over and over and soiling it with your juices.
You feel his tip bumping against your sweet spot when Jungkook suddenly cries; two thick tears roll down his cheeks, and you bend over to kiss them clean.
“Slow, s-slower, please, go—” he sobs, face red. “Shit! I’m— fucking hell, go slow! G-go slow!”
As he pulls at the restraints in pure desperation, his hips buck into you, jerking and trembling like he’s got no control over them. Jungkook is begging you to slow down, but the blazing way he’s fucking up into you, trying to reach your breasts and suck on your nipples again, wanting to get rid of the restraints so that he can grab your ass and pound into your dripping pussy only fuels him.
“Shut up, little bitch,” you grunt.
Before he can say anything else, you shove your nipple into his mouth and hover over him, your core aching at the wet pressure of his tongue around your hardened buds. You pull at his hair, and his eyes suddenly roll back.
He grows harder inside of you. “Oh fuck, oh, n-no, fuck, stop!” he cries out. “Shit, stop! Slow, slow down—!”
Only when you feel him going still on the mattress and the sweet feeling of hot cum filling you up do you understand he just came inside you.
You keep bouncing on his cock, and Jungkook’s seed eventually gets pumped out of your insides by his own cock. It leaks down your inner thighs and pools on his lower stomach, but you only lean onto him to bite on his neck while he sobs at the painful yet glorious feeling of your pussy milking every last drop of his yummy cum.
“Oh, baby,” you coo with amusement, scratching down his chest, “you just made this so much easier.”
Overstimulation kicks in when you resume bouncing on his spent cock, careful not to let him slide out of your cunt; Jungkook sobs and grunts as he writhes on the bed, pulling the restraints.
You grab his chin and spit into his mouth before you kiss him hard. Your teeth leave small bites on his lips and chin, peppering short kisses to swallow his sobs, embracing him to restrict his squirms. He’s crying so prettily into your lips, you want to eat him up.
“Please, p-please—! Hurts!”
Sucking the flesh of his neck, you let the red mark blossom. “A deal is a deal, sweetheart.”
Deal or no deal, you ride him chasing your climax, sweating and melting into him. Your clit rubs against his pubic bone, and the coiling tension in the pit of your stomach tightens. Jungkook writhes beneath you, and his toes curl in a poor attempt to let out a little of the pleasure that pushes him towards another orgasm. The sight of his cum dripping down your legs mesmerises him, your pussy engulfing his cock over and over again.
Fuck, you look so hot right now; he’s going to explode in a heart-shaped puddle of pleasure, he can’t stop the tears either. It’s torture, the best kind, how you’re touching him, stroking his skin, licking down his lips to his sweaty chest, playing with his hair. There’s almost a certain sense of affection in the ways of your hands.
“Please,” Jungkook cries out.
“Fuck,” you moan, closing your eyes. “Baby, you’re gonna make me come~“
Your words make his heart stop for a second. They fuel a fire in his abdomen and raise goosebumps all over his skin, and Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath as the pain starts to mix with the tortuous pleasure.
You keep bouncing on him, ass striking against his hips at a brutal pace. “God! Shit, shit, baby, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”
“Please!” he begs.
The ache between your thighs makes your core tighten, your muscles burn, your sweat is boiling on your skin, dripping down between your breasts.
With one last powerful thrust, the tension snaps, and suddenly you’re bursting out in an explosive orgasm, squirting all over him. You scream out, squishing his cock with your dripping walls, moaning his name and burying your nails in his chest. The shockwaves grip your body, and you ride out your orgasm with slower rolls of your hips.
“Fuck, baby,” you let out in a weak breath, “you made me spill myself all over you.”
When you finally peel your eyes open, you notice Jungkook staring down at the pool of fluid on his lower stomach. His pupils are so dilated that they merge with his irises. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, and his hips are bucking into you subconsciously.
“M-mommy—”
You’re too exhausted to be careful not to drop on top of him and leave a feverish trail of kisses down his neck, holding his face and brushing your lips together, swirling your tongue around his.
“Mommy,” he calls again.
“Yeah…?”
“I’m—” Jungkook lets out a whimper when you shove your hand between his legs. “I’m c-close.”
“Again?” you ask with a hint of mockery in your voice.
He pouts and closes his lips in embarrassment, but the way his cock throbs and twitches as you circle the tip of your index finger on his cock feels too good to stifle his noises. You have such cute hands; he’d die just to see them covered in his cum.
You move down his body in a trail of kisses and nibbles, enjoying the smell of his skin, so warm and intense. The room smells of sex, and it turns you on so much that your mouth salivates.
“Let me take care of you.”
Scooting between his legs, you stroke up and down his Apollo’s belt as he arches his back into the touch, desperate to come. His cock pressed against his tummy, you grab it and spit on it right before dipping your tongue into the slit. Jungkook pants in surprise and squirms and, making eye contact, you part your lips around his cock and swallow around it.
Jungkook whines and tries his best to hold his hips still, but the feeling of being engulfed in your wet heat only engorges the tension in the pit of his stomach. Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, not yet, he chants in his head.
Sucking and bobbing your head on his cock, you enjoy how he responds to your touch; Jungkook is burning all over, writhing, twitching between your lips at the suction.
“Fuck,” he gasps, “y-your mouth—”
You don’t bother to reply and simply hum around his cock, and the vibrations send shivers of pleasure down his spine. His eyes stare at your lips, darkened and wet with saliva so, using hands and lips together, you start sucking his tip with sloppy strokes of your tongue and suction from your lips as your hands play with his balls. Jungkook lets out a breath moan, increasingly agitated and desperate.
Then you slide him out of your mouth, and he stares at you a bit confused – until he sees the way you just hover over him with your mouth wide open above his tip and gets it. Shyly, Jungkook bucks his hips into your wet heat, letting out a muffled moan.
“You— you can’t be for real—” he whines.
You tilt your head in silence, waiting for him to shove his cock into your mouth again.
He starts fucking your mouth with desperate thrusts, hitting the back of your throat. Tears make his vision blurry, and a wave of heat spreads under his skin. He’s half ashamed, half turned on just at the very thought of him having to fuck your face to cum while you stay there, hovering over him with your mouth open. The grip of your tongue around his cock is heavy and wet, you’re so mean to him, just letting him jerk his hips like a bitch in heat.
“I’m gonna— fuck!” Jungkook lets out a grunt and a desperate gasp, fighting the restraints and fleeing your mouth; but you grab his ass again and bury his cock into your mouth until your nose is pressed against his pubic bone, and you hollow your cheeks, fucking him between your lips. “C-coming! Slow, s-slow down, I’m— oh fuck, please!” he sobs.
His hips stutter, and suddenly he’s spilling himself into your mouth, dissolving into pleasure with a choked sob and your name on his lips. It’s bitter, but Jungkook’s contracted face, with two thick tears soaking down to the corners of his lips, and red cheeks makes it all worthwhile.
You help him ride out his climax with your hand wrapped around his cum-stained cock, but soon Jungkook is writhing beneath you and bursting out in tears of actual pain, and you let go of him.
Lying eye to eye, he watches you lean onto him and open up your mouth; a pool of cum rests on your tongue, and he doesn’t hesitate to open his mouth and lets you kiss it back into the source system, massaging your tongues together and rolling them over each other. A drop of white cum rolls down the corner of his mouth, but you’re both too busy making out naked on top of each other to care about it.
“We’re gonna have so much fun tonight, sweetheart,” you whisper.
After a pause, you get up and reach the camera to turn it off; suddenly Jungkook snaps out of something like a dream, and he remembers that you’re actually working. A feeling of shame and sadness washes over him, and he's so exhausted both mentally and physically that he feels the urge to cry.
“Okay, I turned it off.” You rush to undo the restraints on his wrists and massage the red marks with your thumbs to get the blood circulating again. “Does it hurt? I’ll get you something for the marks.”
In a thoughtful silence, he shakes his head.
“Good.”
You turn around and lean on his legs to undo the knots of his ankles as well, and Jungkook closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. His heart is still trying to burst his ribcage open and get out of his chest, and now that the frenzy of the video is over, a dread falls over him; what is he going to do about you now?
“Uh, Y/N?” he asks, unsure.
Smiling, you look up at him with the rope in your hands. “Yes?”
Courage.
“Can I… take you out to dinner some day?”
“Don’t laugh!” you exclaim, laughing. With a napkin, you wipe away the milkshake foam that stains your chin and the corners of your lips. “It’s not funny, you should have told me earlier. I’m sure everyone has noticed.”
The terrace where you are sitting is practically deserted except for a few tourists and a couple of birds circling over your food. With the sun shining brightly above you, you prop yourself up on your elbows as your tummy aches from laughing so hard, and Jungkook glances at the menu with a growing smile.
“I didn’t know you cared so much about the opinion of three people and seven birds,” he jokes.
“Hey, it’s eight birds, sweetheart. And the tourists are carrying a camera,” you insist, grabbing the menu from him with a playful frown, “what if I come out in the background looking like Father Christmas? I’d never get over it.”
“Then Father Christmas had a glow-up – when he was a kid, he’d just eat the biscuits and leave. Anyway, should we order to share or is it every man for himself?”
“We’d better share, I want to try it all,” you murmur as you take a sip from your drink.
Jungkook frowns. “You’ll get a tummy ache like last time.”
“You don’t have to remind me!” With a giggle, he takes the menu again. “It was so embarrassing, on our first date on top of that.”
He scoops to the other side of the table and steals a kiss from you, letting you cup his face and deepen the contact. “Okay, just order anything you want,” he says, sliding the menu back to you. “I’ll eat what you can’t fit in your tummy.”
You thank him with a short peck on the lips, and Jungkook returns to his seat.
“Oh, by the way,” you say casually, stirring your milkshake with your straw, “I have some good news and some bad news, which one do you want first?”
He frowns. “Well... The bad one, I guess?”
“The bad news is that I can’t use the video we made because you can hear us saying each other’s names. The good news is that it means we can make it again.”
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“Sideshow” is copyright ²⁰²³ Lola Bangtan, all rights reserved.
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Being pro-fiction is so -annoying- sometimes.
Me: Having kinks is okay, and exploring that in fiction is also very okay. Writing about other dark sexual shit is usually okay too because no real people are being hurt, and it doesn't usually reflect real-life actions either. I also don't think "glorifying" sexual violence is any worse than non-sexual violence.
Literally Every Other Person on This Website: Oh!! So you support people forcing others to read CNC and the actions of real rapists? You want people to be groomed and abused so you can enjoy it? You want people to be triggered! You like real incest and real CSA! You're a dangerous piece of shit!
#Also people stop fucking assuming I am not a victim. Just bc I'm a guy you disagree with doesn't mean I'm not traumatised.#pro fiction#proship#reds.shipcourse
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Hi!! How are you? ^^ i really like your account, i love getting a notification for each post‼️
Imagine having a big argument with Quackity because he's not giving much attention to Y/N due to work ?
Hii! I'm fine! Ty <3 Thanks for the request!
Quackity Imagine: One more chance.
When you and Alex started dating, in 2021, you thought you'd last. You were wrong. Extremely wrong.
Alex was full of energy, passion and love. He was young and brave, smart and creative, so handsome you'd feel you wanted to die sometimes. But still, he wasn't perfect. Of course, he's a human being, he's not perfect and will never be.
But you didn't want perfection, you weren't perfect aswell. You just wanted a boyfriend that'd understand you, being by your side no matter what.
Alex wasn't that person to you. You couldn't take it anymore. You lost count of how many times you both fought about it. About him doesn't giving you the support you needed.
"Y/N? What are you doing here?!" Alex asks as he sees your face. It's raining, you didn't have an umbrella, you're soaked, cold, shaking and angry. "I told you I was coming, Alexis. I asked you to pick me up."
"I'm sorry, amor. I didn't see the messages." He says as you get into his apartment. "I was streaming with Cellbit and Roier, we were..."
"Alexis, I want to break up." You cut him off. "I don't care what you were doing."
"What do you mean, Y/N?" He asks, confusion and worry passing through his face at the same time."You're not being a good boyfriend to me, 'Lex. You're making me sick."
"What did I do?"
"Do I need to repeat it again?! You're not supporting me, you're not listening to me, you're not being... I need you sometimes and you just... Don't care." You vent, feeling all the anger, sadness and resentment you've been feeling for months. Stronger now.
"Of course I care, baby. I know I've been working so much, but I care about you." He defends himself from your accusations, you sigh, tired of having to explain the basics for the man in front of you.
"You're putting your work over me! You're always talking about QSMP, you're always working on QSMP, you're giving all your fucking attention to this project!"
"Because it's important to me, Y/N!" He raises his voice a little."Don't you dare, Alexis, to raise your 'fuckin voice to me right now." You respond, angrily. "You're such a selfish!"
"No, I'm not. You're the one being selfish here, Y/N." He approaches you as you laugh, not believing what he just said. "This project is my life, I'm giving my blood, sweat and tears for it."
"And you're losing me in the process." Your heart hurts so much as you say it. Because it's true, because it's hard to believe your relationship with Alex was ending. Man, what a 'fuckin situation. "I'm not a selfish person, I don't accept you saying that of me." Tears wet your cheeks as you look at the boy in front of you. "I passed at the University. The notes were published on the website yesterday, you didn't even asked me about it." You whisper, watching regret passing through your boyfriend's face. "Shit." He whispers as he closes his eyes. "I'm sorry, mi amor."
"It doesn't matter anymore. I just need to pack my things so I can leave." You tried to control your crying, but at this point, it was almost impossible. "No, it's raining. I won't let you leave with this rain. Please, let's talk, baby. I promise you I'll..."
"I'm tired of your promises, Alexis." You cut him off and watch his face turn into to pure sadness. Man, his heart is broken. You watch him sits on the sofa and starts to cry, covering his face with his hands as he starts to sob. His shoulders shaking in the process. Your heart is in pieces now. There's nothing in your chest anymore as you see the boy you loved so much in tears like this. "It's okay, 'Lex."
You approach him, putting one hand in his back, consoling him. "It's okay." You wipe your own tears as his hands hugs your waist, so tight, like he doesn't want to let you go. "I'm so sorry, Y/N." He whispers. "It's okay. I don't want it to finish in a bad way. I still love you, Alex. I'll always do."
"Don't say that, please." He asks, looking at you with red and tearing eyes, the eyes you loved so much. "I don't want to lose you, Y/N." He whispers. "I love you so much."
"I know, baby." Alex puts you on his laps."Alexis..." He holds your face with his both hands."Please, amor. Give me one more chance. Just one. I promise you I'll change." He says it, looking into your eyes. "I'm sorry, amor. Eres mi vida. I'd never trade you for a Minecraft server." He whispers, you can feel his desperation in his voice."You already did it." You whisper, so gently."I don't want to lose you. What's the meaning of all my success if I don't have you by my side?"
"I don't know." You whisper."You're making me feel so alone, 'Lex. Yesterday was about me and where were you? My success isn't important as yours?"
"Of course it's, amor. I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry about yesterday."
"It hurts so bad to be far away from my family, but it hurts more the fact my boyfriend doesn't seem to care about me anymore." Your heart clench with sadness as he wipes your tears.
"I care, Y/N." He whispers."I'm sorry I'm being so negligent with you." He says. "Just give me one more chance, amor. Please, just one more." He begs, looking into your eyes."I'll change, baby. Please." You feel his pain in his words so you hold his face with your both hands."You promise me?" You ask."I do, amor." He answers, looking into your eyes.
"Okay."
"Thank you, my love. I'm so sorry. Forgive me, please?" He whispers as he hugs you tight, kissing your neck. "I do, 'Lex. It's okay." You whisper. "No, it's not. I'm so sorry. I love you so much, Y/N. I promise you won't regret it." He says, looking at your face. "I love you too, 'Lex. I know I won't." You give him a peck on the lips and he smiles. "Let's take a hot bath, corazón." Your boyfriend asks as he starts to get up with you on his lap. "Sure."
Quackity washed your hair, made you a hot tea and gave you some of his clothes to wear, you two went to bed to cuddle and discuss about what needed to be changed in your relationship. He understood your feelings, needs and thoughts and you understood his. He promised he'd stop putting his work in priority, recognising you, Y/N, was the love of his life and his life, not his project, it doesn't matter how much he loved it. He also promised he'd listen to you more, not being a dumbass selfish (his words).
You knew he'd change. You felt it. You felt how much he loved you, he was just so focused on work he wasn't showing it. He was suffering so much pressure from the public, he just... Wanted to give to people something they'd love. He never stopped loving you. He'll never do.
By the end of the night, you felt so much better, you were glad you gave your man one more chance. ❤️
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy the writing! :)
Requests are open!
#quackity#qsmp#qsmp brazil#quackity imagines#quackity imagine#quackity x reader#quackity x y/n#quackity x you#quackityhq#alex quackity#quackity fluff#quackity fanfic#quackity headcannons#quackity scenario#quackity qsmp#qsmp brasil
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Please imagine a pithy title about fresh starts here.
(crossposted from Patreon)
Coming into 2024, I had big plans for how I was going to get back on track and get back to posting once a week and yeah, obviously, that hasn’t happened.
But what I have been doing is looking at my Patreon and at my own projects and figuring out some things I need to do differently. Last April, I changed my nom de plume because I wanted a fresh start. Now it’s time to give this entire Patreon project a refresh.
Here’s what’s happened so far:
Deleted my old A.F. Linley website and gave up the domain; the cost for hosting has risen by $200/year and I wasn’t using it as much as I thought I would back in 2018. Also I kept getting spam emails through the contact page.
Took down my Smashwords account; the single title I had managed to self-publish, a short story collection called Creeps, Ghouls and Jewels, had some serious formatting issues that it was not going to be worth the time/money to correct. Plus, I’m not happy with the changes that have come since Smashwords merged with Draft2Digital. (I’m considering moving to Payhip for future self-pubbed titles but that’s a discussion for a different post.)
I’m starting the process of taking down my Redbubble shop and....Okay, actually, I might have done that already? I just went to grab a link to the site in case anyone wanted to order a Moonicorns t-shirt before I deactivated but uh, it looks like it might’ve deactivated itself? Anyway, merch isn’t the right direction for me at this time, but I’ve still got all the actual designs and I really do like the “Finishing Things is Hard” logo, so I’m definitely going to hang onto that and slap that onto some stuff at a different print-on-demand site in the future.
Here’s what’s happening next:
New posting schedule: Starting in April, patrons will receive one short non-fiction post every week (500-1k words) and a piece of fiction every month (2-2.5k words). Oddments posts will continue to be free to read, but these take a decent amount of research and will be sporadic, basically happening around patron-only posts.
Revised patron tier perks: Getting rid of physical rewards and adding more digital ones. More details to come.
Current and long-time patrons: Thank you for sticking around while I get my shit together. I say that frequently. I mean it every single time.
Potential new patrons: Hello. I have just met you, and I love you. My name is Ethan, I live in a 200-year-old house and I’m writing a novel called The Lion’s Paw. It’s set in 1925 and is about an immortal queer disaster woman and what happens when 400+ years of terrible decisions catches up with her.
(I will neither confirm nor deny that she was inspired by H.G. Wells from Warehouse 13.) (Yes I will confirm it, she totally was.)
There are séances and ghostly possession and psychics, there is historical romance, and psychological horror, there are haunted houses and artists behaving badly and a lot of ladies making out.
I post about my writing process and all the weird little historical niches that pop up during my research. Frequent topics include:
Spiritualism
Cryptids
Historical curiosities
Medical quackery
Weird tech
General oddball occurrences and serendipitous intersections of history, folklore, and culture
And sometimes when I’m really bored I write short fiction via random prompts.
If any of that appeals to you, please consider subscribing! I’d love to have you along for this journey and my caffeine habit needs all the support it can get.
=====
Banner photo by Ryan Snaadt on Unsplash.
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Real: Alexander 'Tig' Trager x Reader
Tagging: @nu1freakshow @mortal--soul @yourwinchesterbros @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @nessamc @ritasantosworld @bl4ckt00thgr1n @anime-weeb-4-life @redpoodlern @ravencrow83
It’s at the first wrap party for Cara Cara that Tig seeks you out. He’s seen you around the studio before, clad in a black jeans that fit that ass of yours perfectly, ballet flats and a thin scoop shirt that hangs just right, leaving enough to the imagination. You’re the only one in the place that doesn’t have their tits or ass out, so yea, he takes notice.
At the party he keeps an eye out for you, he never gets a chance to say more than a few words to you on the day-to-day side of things, you’re constantly running round with a camera in your hand, usually up close in someone’s business. He’s not actually sure of the work you do so he asks Bobby.
“Official job is photography and videography; she works with the girls to create unique content for the website.” The other man tells him, reading through the accounts with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “That one-of-a-kind shit subscribers pay for, the stuff that doesn’t make it into the movies, special requests.”
“She ever been in front of the camera?” he asks.
“Not in the time I’ve been here.” Bobby tells Tig with a shrug of the shoulders.
That’s not a no, because the thing is, he thinks he’s seen you once. He’s got a memory for faces, that and the tattoo on your left bicep he’s caught a glimpse of a couple of times. He recognises it, it’s a unique piece. He has a thing for art and beautiful women, especially the two together.
It doesn’t take long for the party to get out of control. Booze, drugs and high-end pussy, it makes the guys a little crazy, hell, up until recently it would have made him damn right insane. He’d be the first one getting his cock sucked by that red head in the corner but he’s not here for that tonight. He’s here for you.
He finds you in one of the back offices, it’s a small space tucked in the corner of the infrastructure, away from the noise and hubbub of the party. It’s shrouded in darkness, fairy lights illuminating the coving, giving the place a sensuous glow. He knows what this is for you, a sanctuary away from the noise, his home is the same way. His life is the club, he’s there more often than not but his house… Sometimes he needs that space to breathe.
His gaze lands on the pictures you have stuck to the wall, not the usual ones you see in a porn studio but different shit in black frames, dark artwork drawn in thick pencil lines. It’s the stuff of myths and legends, he recognises Persephone, her hand holding an anatomical heart instead of the pomegranate that kept her in hell. Medusa in all her glory, stoic, beautiful and cracked, an exact replica of the piece on your left arm. The third Pandora’s jar, a vessel of smoke, death and everything else in between.
“I thought it was a box.” He says into the air between the two of you, pointing his beer bottle towards the images.
You’re perched on a roller chair in front of a desktop computer with two screens in front of you. You have Photoshop open and you’re editing the shadow on Lyla’s cleavage.
“Mistranslation by some asshole in the sixteenth century.” You tell him, before twisting in your chair to face him. “What can I do for you Mr Trager?”
You make his breath catch in his chest, those eyes of yours could bring a man to his knees. He imagines it, his hands on your hips, drawing those jeans down slowly. He doesn’t know that the fuck it is about you that captures him, but here’s something there under the surface, something a part of him recognises and wants to claim as his.
“Tig.” He corrects you, leaning against the doorframe before jerking his head towards the noise behind him. “You planning on joining the party?”
“Not my scene.” You tell him, frankly, tilting your head to one side. “If you’ve come here looking for another hole to fuck, you’ve come to the wrong place.”
“Nah.” He says, dropping down into the wheelie seat beside of you. He scoots back and forth experimentally, testing the motion of the chair. “If I wanted that I would have stayed at the party, plenty of it going on there.”
“So, what do you want?” You asked him.
Straight to the point, he liked that. He likes a lot of things about you. The way you talk to the girls in that calm, soothing voice of yours when one gets a little overwhelmed, the fact you see them as people trying to make their way through this world. The jokes you tell to set them at ease when you’re up close and personal. The professionalism you exhibited despite the fact you’ve had Ima up in your face and screaming because you’d told her her tits needed just a little more powder to take away the shine of the light. A good shoot can make or break you, you’d reminded her, holding up the camera. Get on my bad side and you can forget about all the gifts your subscribers send you.
Tig shrugged his shoulders. What does he want? It’s not the first time he’s through about the answer. The two of you have only been in the same vicinity for a handful of moments but he senses there’s something there, you’ve laughed at his jokes. He’s got a rep for being crazy, for fucking anything that moves, for trying everything once and he means everything. When you look at him, he feels like you cut through all of that bullshit and you just see him. A man, so fucking damaged that the only way for him to stay sane is to be a little crazy.
“A conversation from someone who isn’t drowning in pussy or had a cock in their mouth in the past thirty minutes.” He tells you, because truthfully that shit is getting boring.
He’s tired of fucking, he’s lost track of the women he’s given it to over the years, some of the acts he has participated in. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s a way of filling up this weird emptiness in his chest, of chasing a rush, of relieving some pressure. He’s done some extreme shit over the years chasing that high, stuff he should be ashamed of, and he isn’t. He knows there’s something broken in him, there always has been but he’s never felt as complete as when you gripped his hand when one of the set pieces took a tumble and scared the shit out of you both. The way you looked at each other and cracked up, he misses having someone to share little moments like that with.
When you laugh, it’s fucking gorgeous, like a breath of fresh air rushing through his system. It makes him feel lighter somehow, like despite all the dark shit he’s seen there’s a little bit of beauty in the world.
“So you didn’t come in here to try and fuck me?” You ask him with a twinge of humour to your voice.
He wonders if you’re disappointed by that. He doubts it, you work on a porn set with a bunch of bikers who are tapping shit left, right and centre. He has a fair idea of who’s tried to make you an offer you can’t refuse and what your response has been. He doesn’t begrudge anyone a little fun but if he’s with you, he’s wants to be the only one on your mind. The only one whose bed you’re in.
You must see something in the expression on his face, because your cheeks colour and you shift just slightly. He knows when a woman’s attracted to him, he can sense it a mile away. He’s not the type of man to mess around, he goes directly for the kill.
“Darlin’ the things me and you would do together, it would be fucking beautiful.” He tells you, bringing his chair a little closer to yours. Your knees bump, it’s the briefest touch, denim on denim but your body heat, it feels like fire on his skin. Fuck, he’s never felt anything like this before, it’s frightening but thrilling all at the same time. “I’d be so fucking good to you.”
“I like you.” You tell him, your hand coming to grip his jaw, tilting his face so that his eyes are on yours, and fuck if that doesn’t do something to him. He’s not used to being submissive like this, he doesn’t bend not to anyone, but for you he’s almost keening at the attention. It’s everything he can do not to fucking whimper. “I think you’re funny, I think you’re fierce and I think you’re loyal but I also know that you’re ostentatious and I need real.” You tell him, tapping a finger on his chest through the leather of his kutte.
“I can do real.” He promises you, his hand enclosing over yours before he gently clasps it to his cheek. His gaze meets yours as his stubble brushes over your pulse point. He sees the hues around your iris darken, your breath hitching as his lips brush over the sensitive flesh.
The way you look at him, it almost has him losing his mind.
His heart though, that’s long gone
You’d stolen it the moment you’d clasped his hand on crowded porn set.
Love Tig? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee
#tig trager fanfic#tig soa#tiggy#tig trager#tig trager x reader#alexander trager x you#alexander trager x reader#alexander trager soa#soa
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OKAY FRIENDOS
This chapter fucking fought me, not least because I wasn’t actually sure what exactly Danny wanted out of meeting Waylon… and then I realised that was because Danny wasn’t sure either
I did consider just letting this one run long and posting in two parts when all was said and done, but this was where I’d have had to break the chapter in two for Tumblr anyway, and it’s actually a really good place to end… so one more chapter for Waylon!
And then tumblr mobile decided not to let me fucking paste the chapter in, and I am fucking DYING with the laggy piece of shit that is the mobile website. I crave death. Let me join the boys.
First Chapter and AO3:
Previous Chapter:
——————
A Good Excuse To Be A Bad Influence
Jason wasn’t exactly expecting to roll up to Danny’s dorm to thumping stripper music, and yet as he turned off the bike… that was definitely what was happening.
Flicking the visor up, he soon caught sight of the cause, a visibly frazzled Danny hurrying over. His pocket seemed to be having an independent party that Danny himself was not invited to.
“I have sinned against the almighty Tucker and am being punished for my crimes with an endless loop,” he explained flatly without being asked.
Jason snorted, reaching back to unhook the new helmet from the back of the bike and hand it out.
“Oh? And what did you do to upset his highness?” He teased, a smile tugging across his lips in spite of himself.
In spite of the certain knowledge that Tim would absolutely be latching onto this form of punishment the second he found out.
He’d not really felt like smiling since he got in last night, yet the second he saw Danny his anger eased.
Didn’t hurt that the pit was practically vibrating in smug satisfaction, clearly appeased that he also wouldn’t let them be kept apart. But there was still an open happiness all Jason’s own in watching his new friend suffer.
Danny sighed, pulling out a heavily wrapped sock-sausage that eventually contained his phone, and scrolled to show Jason some messages.
Jason scanned through them quickly, because the music was fucking loud entirely unmuffled, then passed the phone back to be reburied.
“You knew what you were doing,” he told Danny entirely unsympathetically, and Danny snickered.
“Sometimes he needs to be told when he’s being a dramatic bitch. So were you there for the whole,” he waved a hand vaguely, the other stuffing his phone back into his pocket.
Which meant Jason had to think about the cave again. And the phone call he’d gotten an hour after ignoring Bruce’s summons.
:::
Jason was actually on his way to bed on time for once in his life, the early end to patrol and lack of crime lord duties giving him a chance to get a full five hours sleep.
He should have known he wouldn’t get lucky two nights in a row; Constantine wasn’t around to distract Bruce anymore.
He’d contemplated not answering. Contemplated trying not to shoot Bruce in half an hour if the fucker showed up at his window.
The pit growled.
It was the worst thing he’d ever heard. The worst thing he’d ever felt. And he did feel it, vibrating in his very bones.
It sent shivers creeping up and down his spine, muscles tensing as if to run away from something inside him.
He answered the call, hoping it wouldn’t show in his voice.
“What.” Flat, unfriendly. Not encouraging conversation.
“You didn’t come to the cave.” B’s voice was equally flat, but in his case it sounded like a condemnation. An accusation.
Jason gritted his teeth.
“I have shit to do in the morning. Make it quick,” he snapped, giving his bed a glare it definitely didn’t deserve.
His pillows had never done anything to hurt him.
There was a momentary pause before B audibly decided not to push it.
Good.
Jason was in a mood to bite.
“We have intel on the Infinite Realms. I’ve sent the report. You need to stay away from Danny Fenton, for your health,” B said, still cold, still clinical.
Like he didn’t care. Like what Jason wanted didn’t matter.
Jason’s grip tightened and the phone case cracked.
“Yeah, no. Fuck off.” He spat the words, adding “get new phone” to his list of chores for the morning.
He’d been doing so well with this one. Of course B had to ruin it.
At least the old man didn’t seem surprised by his reaction.
“Jason. It… he. His abilities may affect your condition,” he said slowly, sounding tired. Old.
The pit snarled, sensing weakness, and Jason kinda wished he was still lost in its rage. Back when he was, it was easy just to hate those moments.
B showing signs of humanity fucking hurt.
“He is. He’s making it better,” he shot back, brooking no argument.
“We don’t know that, Jason. Please, just… just for a few days. Until we can talk to the League, understand what he’s doing to you.”
Was.
Was that Bruce begging?
It froze something small and soft in Jason’s chest, stuck him in place. And did nothing to stop the flood of icy rage from filling him up.
Filling his chest, crushing his lungs, making it hard to breathe. Because of course, anyone and everyone else’s judgement was worth more to the man than Jason’s.
Begging Jason to listen to him, when he would never, ever, fucking ever listen to Jason. When it didn’t fucking matter if Jason begged.
“And why the fuck would the League know better than a doctor from the Realms?” He finally snapped, ignoring the way his throat tightened.
There was a long silence.
“A doctor?” Bruce asked softly, his voice still so flat and emotionless that only his kids could have read the confusion. Jason rolled his eyes.
“Danny brought me to a doctor. I’m gonna be fine,” he ground out reluctantly, part of him resenting Bruce’s constant insistence on knowing everything.
But… well. If it got the guy off his fucking back.
There was a long silence, one that Jason was fully aware B was likely spending working this new information into his latest paranoid fantasy.
Jason seriously considered just hanging up and going to bed. He was about to do it when Bruce spoke again.
“Would this doctor be willing to speak to the League?” And there it was again, Batman voice, clinical and distant and always, always fucking suspicious.
Jason rolled his eyes harder. With emphasis. Willing to be interrogated by first the Justice League and then separately also goddamn Batman.
Actually, now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure B wouldn’t get anywhere with Frostbite. Frostbite took his work seriously and was, yeah, king of a full realm of yetis.
None of Bruce’s pointed silences, menacing looming, or vague growls would bug the guy who got Danny through Fucked Up Ghost Puberty.
(And would probably be helping Jason through his own Fucked Up Ghost Puberty… joy of joys.)
It might actually be fun to see him try. If just being here wouldn’t put Frostbite in danger, because hell fucking no that wasn’t happening. The guy may not be his king but Jason would still die first.
But of course, in all his paranoid bullshit about the Realms influencing Gotham, B had somehow conveniently missed what America was doing to the Realms.
Like Jason hadn’t even done the full write up.
“Not while the fucking League are required to hand him right to the US government for torture and experimentation. Which, by the way, did you read my report on the Anti Ecto Acts?” Jason asked sarcastically, doing his very worst fake concern.
And again he was met with silence. Fuck, maybe Bruce hadn’t read it. Jason had dropped it in the day before all this gala bullshit had started, and it had been a busy two days since.
Maybe B deadass hadn’t put the pieces together. Might as well hammer it home for him.
“You know, the one that says you, me, Cass, and Damian are all non-sentient because we’ve been exposed to the pits?” Jason added, eyes narrowing.
Which wasn’t technically true, since it was the resulting liminality and ability to process ectoplasm that made them count, but Bruce didn’t need to know that yet.
Finally he spoke again, voice gruff and clipped.
“I’m looking into it. But for now, Jason, please-” he said again, the cover of Batman beginning to slip.
But Jason was done. No fucking chance Bruce was giving him orders when he hadn’t even bothered asking for Jason’s opinion.
He wanted to spout off about dangers of the Infinite Realms after talking to some wet paper bag of a man who hawked his soul like it was a pokemon card. Hard pass.
And even after hearing that Jason knew what was going on a damn sight better than Bruce did, he still wanted to push him around?
Fuck that.
“Sorry B, legally non-sentient, guess I can’t be blamed for my actions,” he drawled, then turned his phone off and dropped into bed.
He had a lot of shit to do before picking Danny up in the morning.
:::
Jason shook his head, partially to clear it but also in answer to Danny’s question.
“Hell no. Tim told me he was being a paranoid old fuck again so I went to bed,” he growled, a little surprised by the sudden rush of anger the memory brought.
It must have been strong enough that Danny noticed it, because he could feel Danny’s worry too.
He sucked in a sharp breath, pushing the anger back down. He still hadn’t turned his phone back on.
Actually it might still be beside the bed in his apartment. It didn’t really matter.
Danny took the new helmet from him, leaning up against Jason’s side in a soft wave of comfort-sorry-amused.
Amused?
Before he could ask, Danny had turned the helmet over to look at the visor.
“So I’m guessing, from what we talked about in the car, what Tucker told me, and what you’re not telling me, that Bruce thinks you should be far, far away from me?” He asked innocently.
The pit fucking growled again, raising the hair all along Jason’s neck, and Danny trilled soothingly to it.
Even knowing what to expect, the sudden and complete lack of rage still made Jason shiver.
“Thanks,” he said before Danny could apologise.
For managing Jason’s unstable emotions for him when Jason couldn’t. Although…
If they actually were the pit’s all along, that’d explain why it had been so hard to push through. It was weird that the idea was actually starting to feel comforting.
Danny gave him a slightly relieved grin, nudging back.
“Yeah, well, not like you recently bound your entire soul and afterlife into keeping me safe. Not like either of us know what the fuck that’s gonna mean,” he said, all flippant and glib, and…
Yeah, he’d almost have a point, except Jason had put himself on the chopping block to keep others safe since he was thirteen years old.
He shook his head, chuckling softly.
“Oh, I didn’t get on with the old man long, long before you came into the picture,” he assured Danny with a dry smile, rolling his eyes.
Danny snickered, spinning the helmet and looking “innocently” up to the sky. Whatever the fuck came out of his mouth next, Jason was ready for it to be a doozy.
“Yeah, well… if I’m the bad influence boyfriend your dad wants you to stay away from…” and that sentence alone almost made Jason choke, without even the kicker, “can I drive your motorcycle?”
At least it stopped Jason from coughing. He shot Danny a sudden suspicious glare.
“Do you even know how to drive a motorcycle?” He asked with a full awareness of what the answer would be.
Danny shrugged, giving Jason his best “innocent” smile.
“Definitely motorcycle adjacent?” He offered sweetly. Jason shook his head firmly.
“Nope.”
“Oh come on!” Danny pouted, tossing both hands into the air, his new helmet held tight despite the dramatic gesture.
Jason shook his head again, in case Danny had missed the point.
“Nnnnnnnope,” he drew the word out, popping the p, and Danny rolled his eyes at him.
“It’s not like a crash would kill either of us anyway,” he huffed, and while he may have that kind of confidence in his ghost powers, Jason’s core hadn’t formed yet.
He wasn’t about to fucking risk it.
“That doesn’t mean it’ll be a fun experience. They’re called “donor-cycles” for a reason,” he told Danny archly, definitely not moving from astride his girl while this was “up for debate”.
Glanced back to find Danny staring at him, clearly holding back a snicker.
“That sounds waaay more like something the Disapproving Dad Who Doesn’t Like His Son’s Hot New Motorcycle Boyfriend would say,” he pointed out, rising on tiptoe to rest his chin on Jason’s shoulder.
Jason licked him. Mostly on the cheek.
It was a stupid impulse, the kind he usually didn’t even get with anyone but Dick, and he might have regretted it immediately if it hadn’t fucking worked.
Danny jumped back, cheeks flushing, and while Jason was pretty sure his own had pinked up, well, behind him Danny couldn’t see that.
But he pulled on his helmet just to be doubly sure.
“Yeah, well, protecting your ass includes not letting you kill us both in a fiery wreck. Or maim us,” he added before Danny could voice the protest Jason could clearly taste.
Silence from behind him, and then Danny sighed and pulled his helmet on, climbing aboard behind Jason again. Who decided to throw him a bone.
“I’ll teach you how to drive it first,” he promised, and Danny cheered loudly, thrusting both fists into the air as they pulled out.
Neither really noticed that Danny’s background music had changed to Radar Love.
**
When they’d finally dragged themselves to bed, Tim had offered to let Tucker use one of the manor’s nearly infinite guest rooms.
They’d picked one out and everything, changed into pyjamas (Tucker borrowed an old pair of Dick’s), and sat on the bed in Tim’s old room talking about technology until they both fell asleep.
Probably around 8am.
Tucker hadn’t had a proper slumber party since leaving Amity Park, but he was kinda getting used to waking up tucked next to a still-sleeping Wayne adoptee when his phone buzzed around 10am.
Foul treachery from Danny. As usual.
Tucker barely woke up, hand crawling from the pile to rest against the PDA, and that was all he needed. His awareness slipped from the device to his phone, always linked.
From his phone to Danny’s. Into Danny’s music app, where he picked a suitable vengeance even as he slipped back into sleep.
Watched Danny through the phone as if it were a dream, easily filtering out the sounds of his own music as Danny flailed around, trying to turn the music off, trying to turn the music down, failing on all counts, and flailing his way out of the dorm.
Down to meet Jason, his phone now buried in six layers of socks that did nothing to stop the music from being heard, or Tucker from watching.
Tucker cranked the volume a little more anyway. The thought had to count for something.
If Danny wanted to call him petty, well, Tucker Foley could redefine “petty” all on his own.
Providing his friends with a semi-mocking soundtrack really was the least of his abilities; he was literally doing it in his sleep.
**
Honestly, driving in Gotham wasn’t even all that exciting from Danny’s perspective. After being tossed around the GAV despite the seatbelts, a couple of cranky fellow drivers just didn’t register.
If they hadn’t been going through the city, maybe going highway speeds it might have been different, but he’d kind of worked out how loud he had to be to be heard.
By Jason snickering when he screamed at pedestrians.
If they didn’t want to be screamed at they shouldn’t be trying to loom menacingly.
Of course, that just meant now was the perfect time for him to use his new power for evil. Danny flipped his visor up, straining as high as he could to yell to Jason.
“SO, THAT CONSTANTINE GUY?”
There was a sudden click in his ear and he jumped as Jason’s voice came through, quiet and definitely amused.
“There’s a radio in your helmet, Danny.”
Oh.
News to fucking him, he was pretty sure that wasn’t standard in motorcycle helmets, but not from any lived experience. Johnny 13’s dead experiences were a little out of date.
Poking around the sides of his helmet, Danny soon found a button.
“Sweet. Looks like you finally forgot to mention something,” he teased, and heard Jason snort loud and clear.
Didn’t have to hold the button to talk then. Good times. He’d get Tucker to take a look on the way home after he ecto infused it. For now he flipped the visor back down.
“Looks like,” Jason agreed dryly, swerving them around a cluster of traffic.
He wasn’t exactly sticking to the letter of the law, they were definitely half again over the speed limit, but they hadn’t gone on a sidewalk so it was nothing to a Fenton. There was even an empty slot in the lane he merged into.
“So what about Constantine,” he prompted, and while it broke Danny out of his musings, it also reminded him of the exact thing he’d planned to do to make the trip more interesting.
“Oh, I own his soul. Like, a dozen times over,” Danny chirped perkily, grip tightening just before Jason had to slam on the breaks to keep from hitting the car beside them.
They sped off again before the sudden swerve caused comment, and passed a block or two in silence. Then Jason sighed.
“Of fucking course you do that for everything and not just Mariokart.” He mostly sounded resigned, so Danny allowed himself a snicker.
“What, it’s not like we’re gonna die. You’re even still on the road,” he dismissed easily, waving a hand to show just how unconcerned he was.
Did not expect Jason to huff, reach back and grab his hand, and pull it back around himself.
“I’m reconsidering teaching you to drive,” he told Danny flatly, and Danny pouted but took the hint and held on.
“Oh come on, you can’t say that, you haven’t even seen me try!” Danny protested.
Jason made an unimpressed noise.
“Your town’s weather includes reports of if your parents will be on the road.”
Which, by the way, was totally unfair of him, since he’d never have known that if Danny hadn’t told him. Or Tucker hadn’t told Tim.
Same difference.
“My parents, not me,” Danny argued anyway, shrugging, “and it wasn’t their driving that killed me.”
This time he was close enough, snugged tight to Jason’s back, that he felt the guy’s whole body shiver with a loud and rumbling growl. The same growl he’d heard and soothed earlier.
Something had really riled up Jason’s pit ghost.
Danny hummed another quick soothing trill, stroking his aura gently across Jason and his extra passenger.
Sort of trying to do it unobtrusively; he would actually really prefer that they didn’t fully crash. It kinda worked, in that Jason managed to unlock suddenly solid muscles enough for them to make the next turn.
“Sorry,” Danny said quickly, kind of to both of them, “guess Pitty doesn’t like the death jokes today.”
They passed another few buildings in silence, and Danny had definitely noticed by now that they weren’t heading for the manor. Didn’t matter so long as Jason knew where they were going.
Danny waited him out, long enough that he almost wanted to make another joke and lighten the mood. Again though, Jason broke it first.
“Pitty.” He did not sound impressed. But he didn’t feel mad. More what the fuck just came outta your mouth.
Danny gave him a quick squeeze, and almost felt the pit purr.
It was kinda getting stronger the longer they hung out. Technically that probably meant that both cores were making progress.
“Well, technically you probably get to name it, but until you come up with something I’m calling it Pitty,” Danny explained, and rather felt that Jason should be grateful.
Unlike the rest of his family, Jason had seen the full list of how Jack Fenton named things. Danny preferred to think he took after his aunt.
He coulda called it the Fenton Pit Friend or something. Really, it wasn’t hard to think of anything worse.
From his aura, Jason now seemed to be intentionally ignoring him.
Stewing in indignation-disbelief-confused-confused-confused. Well, that was his call.
Anyway.
“Back to Constantine though, I wasn’t kidding. I do actually own his soul,” Danny said casually, since they’d gotten distracted from his previous attempt to make the drive more interesting.
For a moment he wasn’t sure if Jason would rise to the bait this time either, and then another sigh came over the radio.
“Y’know, somehow, that’s the least surprising thing you’ve said. Man sells his soul so much everyone seems to have a chunk,” Jason grumbled, and Danny snickered.
“Oh, pretty much. He’s the Caterpie of human souls. He never made a deal with me directly though,” he added quickly, without being fully sure why.
He was pretty sure Jason wouldn’t jump straight to “Danny is a soul trader”, but honestly he’d gotten used to getting ahead of wilder trains of thought.
“Oh? How’d you get twelve then?” Jason shot back, clearly warming back up to things.
Mission accomplished. Danny grinned.
“Well, previous Ghost King was in nappy time for a couple thousand years, but he had this whole thing about collecting souls to add to his army of thralls, so basically anyone could sign their soul over for a chunk of power. Real charmer,” Danny snorted, rolling his eyes.
It was so far from the worst thing Pariah Dark had ever done, but so far it was definitely the longest lingering annoyance.
“I got the impression,” Jason agreed in pretty much the same tone, prompting Danny to continue.
Which. Yeah. Was more fun than thinking about the mountain of thrall contracts still awaiting their owner’s deaths, which the Observants were still fussing over.
Nobody wanted more thralls, souls wiped clean of everything that made them, well, souls. Just unliving batteries. Even ghosts found them creepy.
On the other hand, there was nothing the Observants loved more than rules. And the rules said a signed contract had to be honoured.
Really they shoulda expected Danny to ask who the fuck signed for Pariah, since he was (again) in nappy time prison. He hoped nobody else died while they sorted that out.
“Danny?”
Ah. Yup, he did it again. Danny shook his head and sighed, kinda missing the wind in his hair. It kept him more present than the enclosed space of the helmet.
“Sorry. So, John Constantine, clever bitch, wrote himself a contract that signed his soul over to the Ghost King, not Pariah Dark. Got through whatever screening was in place no problem, and now he’s my problem.”
A problem that Clockwork had presented Danny with on his fucking birthday no less.
That had been part one of the soul screening process; who was stuck with Pariah by name, and ho boy that was a depressingly long list… and still growing, though it had slowed recently.
News of Pariah losing his crown was slow to spread, and frankly Danny himself could be doing more to help that, except. Well.
Not taking the damn crown himself until he had to. Not wanting to give the creeps of the world anything to call him.
There were a lot of good reasons, okay? And Clockwork had specially singled out Constantine’s contract and delivered it to Danny himself as a birthday present.
“Well, that explains one,” Jason agreed with a snicker, pulling to a stop in front of the police station, “but what about the other eleven times?”
Danny snorted a laugh, sliding off the bike and stretching. As much fun as hugging Jason at high speeds was, he didn’t like being still for too long.
“Tax season,” he explained cheerfully, pulling off the helmet and looking around, “I guess we’re meeting Harley here?”
Snickering to himself, Jason pulled off his own helmet and tucked it into the storage on the back of his bike. Danny passed it over, noting that Jason had also had to get a second little pod for the other helmet.
He wasn’t gonna ask. Maybe they were in storage?
“Yeah, we’re meeting Harley here. Better not to swing by the manor for a while,” Jason added, his expression souring.
Which did make Danny feel a little bad actually. He didn’t want to cause trouble for Jason with his family…
But before he could say anything Jason ruffled his hair roughly, shaking his head.
“It’s not your fault, Danny. This kinda shit happens every other week, Bruce gets on his bullshit and I steer clear. He’ll calm the fuck down eventually and remember to mind his own business,” he explained dryly, nodding towards the doors.
Danny hesitated before moving to follow. It felt true, he could feel Jason’s sincere-exhausted-familiar-still over it clear as day, it just.
“I’m still sorry I wound him up though,” Danny finally decided, heading after Jason up and in. Jason who rolled his eyes and held the door open.
“Danny. He winds himself up. You could be a literal angel and he would not fucking care. You couldn’t unwind him even if you miraculously found the key. We’ve all tried,” Jason said with a sigh, though at least the anger seemed to have burned off into just…
Tired.
Jason just felt tired.
Probably cuz he was off fucking around with Cass last night, but Danny wasn’t about to call him out on it.
Not when they’d just walked into the police station (ew) and the wild sight of Harley Quinn, hair in pigtails and dressed in her signature red and black, sat on the duty officer’s desk with a bat. Filing her nails.
Total silence filled the room, broken only by the swing of the doors opening as Danny and Jason stepped through.
The whole room was watching her in a kind of terrified awe, like she was a particularly dangerous bomb waiting to go off. Danny’d swear they weren’t even breathing.
She looked up as the door opened, grinning broadly at the sight of them and waving in a large, exuberant gesture.
“Oh, there’s my boys! Hey boys!” She called in obvious delight, and half the room flinched.
Didn’t seem to matter that she hadn’t even been in Gotham for ages, let alone being her former roguish self. She had the kind of presence that left a lasting impression.
No wonder Danny liked her. She coulda fit right in with his ghost friends.
Maybe she’d come join them for fight club.
**
Pulling himself slowly from sleep just a little past noon, Bruce had to admit he was feeling better. The headache had dulled to a low throb but he felt clearer.
More aware of himself, and after a glass of water, more like he could take on the day.
It was far from his first concussion and he was well used to navigating the symptoms over the next few days. So long as he didn’t get any serious memory loss he wasn’t going to worry about it.
He had far more serious things to worry about, but even they seemed more manageable after almost nine hours of sleep.
Honestly… he wasn’t surprised that Jason hadn’t come to the cave. Hadn’t agreed to stay away from Danny when asked.
It had felt like a reasonable request at the time, like the bare minimum of common sense. But they didn’t have that kind of relationship anymore.
Jason didn’t trust him. Didn’t trust Bruce’s judgement, in how to deal with criminals or anything else.
Jason hadn’t been the boy who’d looked to Bruce with such trust, such wonder and awe, even before he’d died.
Sometimes Bruce wondered where he’d gone wrong.
But there was no use dwelling on the past. Bruce would like to re earn Jason’s trust some day, but he wouldn’t ignore their present relationship.
Jason wouldn’t trust that Danny was a danger to him without proof, so Bruce would find that proof, if it existed. Hopefully before Jason’s condition became proof itself.
The first and most obvious step would be to consult the Justice League Dark at today’s meeting, and then make arrangements for this doctor from the Infinite Realms.
He’d have to look into those laws Jason mentioned ahead of the meeting. Perhaps bring them up to Constantine, see how it might affect matters with the Infinite Realms.
A bitter part of him mused that he wouldn’t be surprised if the magician was completely unaware of most international laws, let alone the ones of the various lands he travelled, but still.
The man had been so adamant that the Infinite Realms were completely beyond their ability to handle. That they should cut and run at any cost.
Bruce could hardly imagine he’d be pleased that the US had apparently declared its inhabitants the targets of its newest genocide.
Of course, changing the laws and having them struck down would take time, but Bruce still hoped that the act of beginning might be enough.
Enough for him to visit Jason’s doctor in the Realms or some other neutral ground, since the doctor couldn’t come here.
Jason had said that he would be fine, not that he was already fine. Bruce wouldn’t have believed him if he had, not really; Jason hadn’t been fine since he’d been dunked in those damn pits.
Their poison had stuck with him far longer than anyone Bruce had ever heard of.
Hells, Bruce had had his own dunking. He could just barely remember the rage that had forced itself down his throat, into his lungs as he was brutally thrust back into the land of the living.
He had controlled it, had mastered it quickly, and now it was nothing more than a faint scrap of memory. Even that was still enough to grant his deepest sympathy to Jason’s struggles.
If the rage had never left him…
But no, he decided, going through his morning routine like he was still the young playboy Brucie who never showed his face before 3pm.
There was no point in indulging those thoughts either. He had mastered the pit’s fury, and it released him. For whatever reason, Jason hadn’t.
And now they all had to deal with the consequences.
Still, Bruce let himself hope for the future instead.
If his children were right, if Jason was right… if Danny or this mysterious doctor from the Infinite Realms could help him with the pit rage…
He might one day see that little boy again. The boy who looked at Bruce like he’d hung the stars, who could fly because Robin made him magic.
There was nothing in this world or any other that Bruce wouldn’t give to see Jason whole again. To see him happy.
The United States government were going to learn (again) what it meant to come between the Batman and the safety of his sons.
The Justice League’s meeting would be in another four hours. He had plenty of time to do some research and amend their presentation.
So long as Jason was right.
And speaking of Jason… there was just one other thing he’d like to do this morning. Heaving a sigh while he had the privacy of his room, Bruce pulled up his phone again.
He didn’t quite indulge himself as far as making a face as he punched in Constantine’s number, because concussed or not he was an adult. And he was going to need the man’s help.
Surely Jason wouldn’t object to a single check in with a trusted practitioner?
As the phone rang, Bruce once again cursed the circumstances that kept Zatanna off world. He was about 75% sure that Jason actually liked her.
But maybe the extent to which Constantine annoyed Bruce would also cheer him up.
The call went through, and Bruce snapped his wandering attention back. Maybe he’d take the rest of the day off after the meeting. Heal up a little more.
Alfred would be proud.
“Constantine. A moment of your time before the meeting?” It even sounded like a question, not a command. Sleep really had done him a world of good.
**
Part of Jason wished he could say he was surprised that Harley had taken GCPD HQ hostage just by showing up, but he honestly wasn’t.
Part of him wished he didn’t think that was exactly her intention, but… he didn’t particularly like lying to himself. Harley was fun.
And got results, even if she also tended not to end lives. He could respect that.
And promised not to rat him out to Danny, even if she made no promises about Waylon, who definitely also knew both his identities.
That… Jason wasn’t really surprised by that either. They’d never talked about it, but Waylon had definitely known he was the second Robin for some time.
A few of the rogues did, or at least assumed as much from the way the Batman would either obsessively chase or obsessively avoid him in mask.
Jason personally preferred and egged on the side that thought Red Hood was Batman’s evil twin brother. Or clone. Mostly because Bruce hated them.
Knowing civilian identities was a step beyond that Bruce would certainly never admit that more than one or two knew, but Jason had (slightly) less issues.
It was kinda an open secret among the rogues who’d been around since the glory days; Bruce Wayne is Batman. As Danny so rightly said of Dick, the butts matched.
(Jason was considering adding more padding to the body armour in his pants, if only to change the silhouette, because that was a fucked yet accurate identifier apparently.)
Most of the rogues didn’t fucking care, Joker and Two Face especially, but it was something that no one talked about.
And that they all specifically agreed to keep from Riddler for as long as possible.
(It was his punishment for being obnoxious at trivia nights in Arkham; no one bothered to suggest banning him or asking him to behave.)
For rogues like the Gotham City Sirens? Hadn’t been a secret since Bruce took off the mask for Selina.
Killer Croc probably wasn’t technically one of the sirens yet (and wouldn’t that be fun?) but he hung out with Harley, and despite his size he wasn’t stupid.
The only thing Jason was a little worried about was Waylon mentioning his current alter ego in front of Danny, but honestly the fact that they were at a police station would probably keep his lips closed.
All vigilantes were illegal.
Red Hood was illegal and a serial killer.
And probably couldn’t get the silent and terrified reverence Harley currently held over the station even if he walked in with a rocket launcher.
She beamed at them, hopping down off the desk with her bat over her shoulder. A little closer, Jason noted that this bat was also bedazzled, but in a different pattern from the one she’d had last night.
Or the same bat, redone, but he wasn’t putting money on it.
She hopped down off her desk and skipped across the room towards them, and Jason wished for half a second that he could command half as much menace doing something so… well, innocent.
But no, he just put heads in a bag, that wasn’t scary apparently. Fucking Gotham.
He obediently bent down for Harley to kiss his cheek, not wanting to be yanked around in the cop shop (even as a civilian), and still managed to be surprised when Danny also accepted a cheek kiss and then returned it.
Harley squealed in delight and ruffled his hair, then pinched both Danny’s cheeks.
“Awww, ain’t you all cute and cosmopolitan! So, shall we go see my big green bestie!” She declared happily, releasing Danny and turning back to lead the way out of the room.
Didn’t go for the keys. Didn’t address the question to anyone who should have been leading them down. Just got going, the way Harley always did.
No one moved to stop them.
**
Surprising precisely no one, Harley absolutely knew the way down to the cells at the GCPD. Not from a lotta personal experience, o’ course.
Nah, Harley usually went from crime scene to Arkham back in the day, but she’d known people and busted people out of holding before.
It had taken a couple real big favours to get Waylon kept here instead of shipped back to Arkham, but that was what favours were for. No one liked having a Harley-debt over their heads.
And Brucie’s word was gonna get Waylon released on her recognizance, once she scooped some shivering copper out from under their desk.
He’d have to actually behave this time though. No big bat-centric events, nothin’ above ground.
Honestly… she might ask him ta head home. Being in Gotham wasn’t good for either of them. Too many old patterns and bad habits, and Waylon had been doin’ a real good job keeping his nose clean.
If he wanted ta head back to Coney, they could get ‘im a ride. And if he didn’t, well, she’d have someone to watch the new show with.
Her two baby birds were following her like good little ducklings too, absolutely adorable. Although… she paused for a second, cocking her head.
“Is there a reason we’ve got theme music?” She asked with a delighted giggle as the song clicked.
It was a little muffled, but Styx’s Renegade? Ballsy choice for a trip to the cop shop.
The question seemed to surprise both boys though, and then Danny sighed, reaching back to pat a weirdly bulging pocket.
“Yeah, I upset my techno-god bestie this morning. Apparently my punishment is a soundtrack of my life,” he said dryly.
Jason paused, a slight frown on his face as he listened too.
“Wait, it changed? I thought you were on a loop?” He asked, and that was an interesting development.
Danny just shrugged.
“Yeah, he’s probably keeping an eye on us and changing it up when he thinks it’s funny. I think I know this song,” he added with a slight frown, brows furrowing as he listened.
Jason listened a moment longer, then snickered and shook his head.
“Tuck’s got good taste in music,” he said simply, and yeah, Harley remembered Tucker from dinner. Another lil cutie, all tucked up with Timmy in their own little world half the time.
Damn good at Mariokart and Spiderheck too.
Danny snorted and flipped Jason off.
“Suck up.”
And immediately the music changed, flipping straight to Pink’s Slut Like You, suddenly louder… although that mighta also been the song.
Danny groaned as his pocket loudly declared that he was not a slut, and Jason laughed at him entirely unapologetically.
“And that’s why I’m not the one with the soundtrack,” he declared smugly and Danny sighed, raising both hands in unequivocal surrender.
“Yes, yes, I’m a bad and naughty boy and I’m getting my just punishment. Can we just get going?” He asked almost rhetorically.
The music changed again, sultry twanging of a guitar before Lil Nas X began to sing Montero. It took Harley a moment longer to place it than the boys, both of whom now looked confused.
“I can’t tell if he’s encouraging you or not,” Jason said finally, and Danny sighed.
“Well I’ve pole danced into Hell before, so I’m taking it as a compliment either way,” he decided with a shrug, trying to shove what looked like an overstuffed sock deeper into his pocket. “I swear the volume shouldn’t get this loud.”
“Joys of a touchy tech friend,” Harley opined with a snicker, glancing around to see if there were cameras Tucker could be watching from. She blew both she found a kiss, then spun to continue their quest.
And realized that neither of the boys had followed her, both now watching her warily.
“What?” She asked, frowning and turning to see if she’d stepped in something. Nope, just clean floors.
“Danny’s sin was calling Tucker overdramatic,” Jason explained, and oh. Yeah, that explained the looks.
Harley waved a hand cheerfully, deliberately brushing it off.
“An’ now he’s givin’ ya life a soundtrack, so I dunno that he disagrees,” she said lightly, skipping back towards the stairs, “c’mon!”
And when no new burst of music began to switch out Lil Nas, the boys got to following again, Danny grumbling about unfairness.
Harley liked Danny. He had a refreshing lack of fucks to give, a good sense of humour, and he doted on Jason, who fucking deserved it.
They’d be so good together, and Harley was gonna have the time of her life watchin’ them work that out.
Which, now that she thought of it…
“Hey, by th’ way, ya said ya didn’t wanna meet at the manor?” She prodded, turning to walk backwards down the steps to the cells, frowning at Jason, “what’d Brucie do now?”
And watched the ease in Jason’s face freeze, muscles tightening, and Harley sighed. Yeah, a trip back to the manor was definitely in order.
“Just his usual bullshit,” Jason grumbled, running a hand through his already wild helmet hair. Danny snickered beside him and gave her a broad grin.
“Jason’s officially banned from hanging out with me,” he explained far too smugly, since there wasn’t a chance Jason would have listened to any Bruce-ban.
But, he was beside the tall and handsome stud he had a crush on, so Harley wasn’t gonna argue. She grinned back at him, just as her foot nearly slipped on a step.
Before the fall could fully start, she pushed off harder with the other foot, dodging both startled hands grabbing for her, and turned the fall into a backflip down the rest of the stairs.
Taking gymnastics as a kid really should be a prerequisite for villainy. Especially with the Robins flipping around all over the place.
She landed almost perfectly, stepping onto her back foot and then raising both arms and giving the boys a little bow. Then she sighed, resting her bat over her shoulder and mock pouting, tapping the side of her jaw.
“I guess I’m just gonna have ta go back and give ‘im a lil percussive maintenance… bet he hasn’t been restin’ right since he got that concussion either. Maybe I’ll call Selina ta keep ‘im in bed for a week,” she mused. Jason mock puked.
“I thought you wanted him to rest,” Danny snickered, earning himself a glare from his one true love. A consequence that did not phase him in the least.
Harley laughed and waved a hand lightly, skipping ahead to get the door into the hall that held the actual cells while they descended the rest of the stairs.
“Oh, she’s a big girl, Selina can do the work,” she teased, laughing louder when Jason groaned like his soul was being sucked out.
There was a cop still sat behind the desk just inside the door, an older man whose stocky frame had started softening with age.
He didn’t quite jump out of his seat as she entered, but dark eyes widened and ruddy skin paled when he saw her. Which, yeah, she had that effect on people.
“Why are you here?” He demanded, voice only shaking a little.
Harley gave him a sceptical once over.
Not someone she’d run into personally, though probably on the force when she’d been active. Off the streets now, probably not far from retirement and trying to make it all the way there.
Not a lotta Gotham cops did these days, in spite of the rampant corruption. Being in the Penguin’s pocket did sweet fuck all to protect ya when Scarecrow was having a hissy fit.
This old bugger had probably joined back in the bad ol’ days when they could just ignore mob crimes, hassle the homeless, and look the other way if a situation got violent.
These days between Gordon, the bats, and the increasingly dramatic rogues (among which she still counted herself even if Batsy didn’t, she had a reputation to uphold)?
Lookin’ the other way wasn’t the protection it used ta be, and bein’ conveniently “late” to a crime scene didn’t help much either.
This guy? Probably folded like cheap laundry at the first sign of trouble, but he’d stayed in place. That’d make her job easier anyway.
Smiling sweetly at him, Harley strolled forwards and propped her bat on the floor, both hands on the handle as she leaned forward over it.
“Pickin’ up a friend,” she told him sweetly, nodding to the line of cells down the hall, “Uber for Mr Waylon Jones?”
The guy (Officer Perkins, said the name tag, but he’d not really proved himself memorable yet) swallowed visibly, hands shaking but still visible above the desk.
Not going for a weapon. Not surprising.
No one who’d seen a gun pulled on Harley before tended to try it themselves. Just like the Robins, she was a tough target. You had to be real sure.
“Do you have the appropriate paperwork?” He rasped, a Gothamite accent still prominent despite the quiver.
Harley raised an eyebrow, letting her smile go deadly sweet.
“Would ya stop me if I didn’t?” She cooed, rocking forwards on her toes and grinning when his chair slammed back almost two feet.
The shaking had progressed to a full body shiver, sweat dripping down a blotchy brow as he slammed a ring of keys on the edge of the desk, as close as he was willing to get.
Harley scooped them up and straightened, tipping him a wink as she sauntered past.
“Thanks bud! But yeah, I do actually have the paperwork, Judge Thompson’s gonna fax it all along this afternoon,” she told him brightly, twirling the ring of keys around one finger as she skipped back towards the cells.
The judge’d fax it after she had another lil chat with Brucie. They’d cut things short last night, apparently too short for even their actual chat to finish sinking in.
Gotta fix that.
And remember to mention Waylon.
And maybe see if he had any info on her own little issue. Though she might hit Barbara up for that first, bring some treats down library way.
It was gonna be a busy day for ol’ Harley, but at least she got to spend time with the kids first.
“Was that really necessary?” Jason asked with a raised eyebrow, following her down the hall with barely a glance at their shaking audience.
“Necessary?” Harley asked sweetly, glancing into the first couple cells and skipping on. “No. Fun, yes!”
“See this is why I like her,” Danny decided with a sage nod, and Harley shot him a wink, “she knows how to have a good time.”
“I know how to have a good time,” Jason said immediately, and holy shit that was just sooooooo cute she nearly dropped the keys to go pinch his little cheeks again.
Just all pouty and defensive and they weren’t even talkin’ about him! It was too much, Harley couldn’t stand it!
“Yeah, and I like you too,” Danny replied in what he probably thought was a cool way, but no, that was just fucking adorable too.
Too.
Cute.
Harley was gonna die.
And maybe get herself a cool glowy transformation sequence apparently, which would be kinda cool. She’d always kinda wanted a magical girl moment.
She could be their fairy-ghost-mother!
And, to be fair ta Waylon, she had definitely gotten side tracked again. Almost forgot who she was here for.
But really, it did not mean he had to make a grab for her when she almost walked right past his cell! She coulda done him an injury!
He released her arm before the bat came down though, chuckling in that growly way of his and raising both hands.
“Hey. Didn’t want you goin’ right past,” he said innocently, and Harley sighed fondly and reached her bat through the bars to bonk him gently on the head.
“Hush you, I’m not that distractible,” she scolded him, completely ignoring any disbelieving noises from her two little love birds, “an’ anyway, you gotta be nice to me. I’m bustin’ yer ass out.”
She jangled the keys at Waylon instead, then began swiping through them for the right one.
The big guy obediently stepped back to let her look, his attention shifting past her to Danny and Jason.
“An’ you brought company,” he growled, a wry grin on his face. She had to wonder if he’d noticed how dang adorable they were already at the gala.
She’d missed soooo much! But he’d catch her up, because that’s what besties did. And cuz she’d kick all the kittens out of his room if he didn’t.
Jason shrugged, coming up behind her to lean on the bars.
“I had a passing interest in why you wanted to use me as bait for Two Face. We’re not exactly close,” he explained, the edited down version for their legal listeners in.
“Ya got balls for a rich kid,” Waylon chuckled just as Harley found the key. One quick victory fist pump and she got to work on the lock.
Really, there was a reason modern stations had one key ta open all the cells. Or electric locks. What if there was a fire?
But then, it was Gotham. They’d happily let all their perps burn. An’ probably keep usin’ it as an excuse why they all needed a fat budget increase.
“Victory! An’ he’s my adorable lil nephew, Croccy, so you’re gonna play nice,” she warned Waylon sternly, swinging the door open and wagging a finger at him sternly.
Again, for the benefit of their audience, but also because she enjoyed putting on a little panto. A bit o’ show.
(She’d have to remember to tell him Danny wasn’t in on the whole Hood secret though. She’d slip it in somewhere.)
Waylon grunted in amusement and stepped through the door, stretching to his full height and breadth in the hallway. And stopping.
“Who’s playin’ music?” He asked, head cocked as he tried to trace the muffled sound.
Honestly, Harley’d kinda forgot it was playing until he said it.
Danny sighed again, at his most put upon, and raised a hand.
“I have offended the technogod and am being punished by soundtrack,” he explained in a tone so dry it desiccated. And didn’t exactly help.
Harley patted the now-more-confused Croc on the elbow.
“He’s upset one of his lil nerd friends by callin’ him dramatic, so his friend hacked ‘is phone to make it play music,” she explained much more helpfully for sure.
Again, Jason and Danny took slight steps away from her.
Again, nothing continued to happen.
Harley’s smile grew more smug.
“An’ apparently said friend still can’t get inta mine,” she declared brightly, shooting another glance up at the security camera and tapping her pocket.
Waylon grunted again, clearly not needing to ask further because her explanation was perfect, and gave Danny a nod of recognition.
“An’ is that why you’re here? Mood music?” He asked, heading off down the hall back towards the doors. Which, yeah, they had places to be.
Danny brightened right away, grinning up at Waylon and moving to let the big guy pass.
“Unless you want a rematch? I haven’t been tossed around like that in a while and I could use the exercise,” he snarked, and yeah, this was why Harley liked him.
Waylon clearly did too, snickering and clapping a massive hand on Danny’s head on his way by.
“Mouth like that’s gonna get yer killed one day, kid,” he grumbled, ignoring the still cowering cop as they made for the stairs.
And Danny, bless him, angel of timing, just laughed and followed along, shooting Jason a wicked grin.
“Oh, it’s way too late for that,” he said light as air, making Jason let out a snort of laughter.
Waylon glanced down to Harley again, fully aware he’d missed something. She gave him another pat on the elbow.
“Jason an’ Danny met at Dead Kids Anonymous. Kid’s got himself a ghost transformation an’ everything,” she explained simply, which didn’t have to be completely true to get the point across.
It made Waylon snicker again, even as Danny cackled along behind them.
“Now THAT is what we’re telling everyone else. We might as well have,” he rasped between laughter.
His pocket music seemed to have changed to Thriller. Appropriate.
Jason rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning.
Harley didn’t think she’d seen him smile this much the entire time he was alive again. It was nice; most of the times she’d seen him as Robin they’d been fightin’, but he’d always been havin’ so much fun.
At least he looked like he had. Poor kid deserved to smile a whole lot more too.
Waylon was taking the news of Danny’s lack of mortality pretty well, giving the kid a thoughtful look. They’d made their way mostly out of the station now, their little bubble of terrified silence moving with them.
That’d get old one day, but until then Harley was gonna take advantage.
“Maybe we’ll have another tussle then,” he agreed with a low chuckle, holding the door for the others to leave through. Real southern gent. “Good t’know I won’t break ya.”
Danny bounced through the door as chipper as Harley herself, giving him a beaming smile.
“Hell yeah, we’ll find somewhere nice and out of the way. Oh, we had some questions too though,” he added almost as an afterthought, giving Jason a sheepish look that again: too cute.
Maybe that was how he’d really died. Too cute to live. Though she’d let him make that joke himself.
Jason didn’t seem bothered, though he did look a little more tense. Not sure where they’d be taking this, more’n likely.
“Once we get somewhere private,” Waylon agreed, glancing between Jason and Harley himself.
That probably meant it was on her to pick a destination then. Well, Harley had a place in mind that (while not technically private) wouldn’t involve onlookers.
“Yeah, I know a spot! I’ll send ya the address, Jayjay, an’ we’ll meet ya there. Don’t think we’ll get four on that bike,” she teased, pulling out her phone.
She knew the perfect spot, and it’d give her a chance to loop Waylon in. All good news.
Jason held up a hand quickly.
“Not got mine on me. Text Danny,” he called, and Harley waved her phone over her head in acknowledgement. It might give Tucker a way to jump into her phone, she wouldn’t know.
Tech wasn’t her shtick. Just a good thing they’d all exchanged numbers the night before.
**
It was a weird feeling to have his body shaken while his consciousness was so far from it.
Feeling his face pull into a frown not quite mirroring what he felt it should be. Tucker could never have explained precisely what part of him entered his devices; just that it was him.
Quintessential, pure essence of Too Fine. Everything he was without the meat he was born in.
But then he did have to slot back into that meat, and trying to do that without matching positions always left him feeling weirdly off kilter the next day. Like he’d put on a shirt but the shoulders were skewed too short.
So despite not being conscious of a face on his extended form, Tucker tried to form it into a frown anyway, sliding back under his own skin like a teen sneaking back through a window after curfew.
Hadn’t those been heady days?
Eyes slowly opening, it took Tucker a moment to remember how to focus them. That they weren’t cameras. But then Tim Drake-Wayne came into focus, and the frown changed to a grin even before he fully “woke up”.
“Morning,” he mumbled, rolling and stretching, getting used to the feeling of a body again. It was a little weirder each time, which he might have worried about if he didn’t see himself as an extension of his PDA anyway.
“You were singing in your sleep,” Tim told him without preamble, returning the smile.
Tucker hesitated for a moment, suddenly embarrassed. If… well. If he’d been singing along, that…
Look he’d picked songs that’d embarrass Danny, he wasn’t gonna give a fuck about it. The only actual question was, did he tell Tim?
Who else would ever understand better just what it meant to interact with tech the way he could? Could get excited with him about how cool it was?
He wasn’t fucking gushing to Technus. No way. Tuck was easily the one winning that ongoing hackathon, but it was the principle of the thing.
To the zone with it. Tim knew about Amity Park, he knew about the ghosts and the liminal tech. And while they hadn’t exactly discussed liminal people, it’d come up.
Tim could have a sneak preview. As a treat.
Decision made, Tucker gave the younger man another broad smile because yeah, bragging about your super powers to a very cool and impressive person? That felt good.
Tim might be a vigilante too, but Tucker was pretty sure Jason was the only souped up Robin. Most of the bats were famously power free.
“Oh, yeah. I was bullying Danny,” he explained with a light chuckle, glancing up to find his beloved PDA, Ida. She was half under a blanket now, so he tugged her back out.
Tim chuckled softly, leaning back and stretching himself.
“Good dream?” He asked and Tucker snickered, stroking gently across the screen.
“Danny wishes it was a dream.” Tucker paused, frowning a little at the confusion on Tim’s face. “So you remember we kinda talked about the whole liminal thing?”
That seemed to jog Tim’s memory, confusion fading into an analytical frown that Tucker was already becoming familiar with. That good ol’ geek face.
“The humans with budding ghost powers,” he agreed, and Tucker had to wonder if maybe he just hadn’t put the right pieces together yet.
He hadn’t exactly said that most of Amity Park were liminal, but it was a little hard to remember he had to. Like, they lived on a portal to Hell.
Maybe he shoulda.
Well, at least it was a cool way to introduce it to him.
Tucker pulled Ida into his lap, flipped her over, and tapped the plain plastic backing to demonstrate.
“Mine’s a low level technopathy at the moment,” he explained as the PDA hummed and then began playing… well, still Montero, so he flicked it again and changed it immediately to Country Roads.
Tim was watching him with a kind of hungry fascination, and Tucker turned the music off with a thought, then passed her to Tim so he could check for secret touchpads.
“It’s not something I can do with anything,” he explained with a modest shrug, grinning with pride as Tim immediately got to scanning the casing.
All simple plastic, not even biometrics; what would be the point? Even touching the PDA was pretty much a formality at this point. She was a part of him.
“Technopathy? So you can control it with your mind? Why not with anything?” Tim asked eagerly, hands stroking over the plastic, eyes darting between it and Tucker.
Like he wasn’t sure which was more interesting, Tuck or tech, and Tucker absolutely took that as a compliment.
“It has to be a device I’ve really gotten into. Like, down to the source code, or something I’ve cracked before a couple times, and then I can just feel how all of it works.”
Tucker wiggled his fingers demonstratively and the PDA beeped to life under Tim’s hands, making the other man gasp. And yeah, totally envy in those cute blue eyes he turned all balefully on Tucker.
“How many of the functions can you use? Anything the PDA can do, or…” Tim trailed off, clearly thinking of everything he’d already seen the PDA do.
The real question would have been what couldn’t Ida do. And honestly? Yeah, Tucker remembered the trial phase.
He gave another shrug.
“Technically? Yeah, anything she can do, but I still prefer hacking the old fashioned way. Most of the network stuff too, cuz I’m only really “in” the PDA. Or Danny or Sam’s phones.”
Tucker hesitated, wondering how best to really explain the difference. Danny had never been any good at it, Tucker’d had no idea what he was talking about from the video game thing right up until he’d been sucked in himself.
Which… was probably gonna be a next-hangout adventure for Tim and the bats. And Oracle, if he could swing it.
For now he gave up, giving Tim a hopeless grin.
“Honestly it’s something you’ve really gotta feel for yourself. Danny’s great at the transition from real world to code, but he always just punches things, y’know? Turns out knowing how code is actually supposed to work doesn’t translate well to being part of it,” he added with a sigh.
Because frankly? It was bullshit unfair. Tucker could code an entire other galaxy around Danny with his eyes closed, but put them in the same metaphysical layer as a firewall and Danny could just.
Punch it.
Which, theme for the week, was also not how firewalls fucking worked. At some point Tuck figured he’d either gain a new level of understanding through liminality, or give up and ask Technus a couple questions.
Technus was currently Tucker’s subject instead of Danny’s anyway. They’d made a bet.
Which meant Technus shoulda told him about their shenanigans in time, which was probably what Tucker would hold over his head for the whole firewall thing.
It was so nice when things just worked themselves out.
Tim looked a little disappointed, but mostly still intrigued. Tucker could see his fingers just itching for his own tablet to take notes.
“Do you think that’ll change?” He asked, blurting it out like he couldn’t hold back now that Tucker stopped talking, “I mean, if you become more liminal? Or just practice your abilities more?”
And see, this was what Tucker loved about Tim Drake-Wayne. They were on the same wavelength. He grinned back.
“Probably. But I mean, it’s kinda cheating too. For now I kinda like that I have to do things the way I always used to first, before any ghostly powers kick in. It’s more me, y’know?” And like hell he’d let anyone think his code skills were just some meta ability.
He’d worked damn hard for those skills, and he was damn good. One of the best, and he was also good enough to know he still wasn’t actually top of the charts.
That was the Oracle, although knowing they still hadn’t cracked his servers felt really good.
Tim was all but vibrating, clearly full of questions, but they were both interrupted by a loud growl from Tucker’s stomach. Immediately echoed by Tim’s, so at least he wasn’t alone.
The two shared sheepish grins, and then Tucker stretched.
“So, breakfast and then Twenty Questions?” He offered cheerfully, and Tim nodded at once, thrusting the PDA back and rolling off the frankly massive bed.
“We can start while we eat, everyone else has probably gone out by now,” he said over one shoulder, stripping out of his clothes from the previous night and hurrying for his closet.
Ah hell, Tucker had only brought the one change of clothes… which Alfred had laundered yesterday after the snowball fight. Which would mean they were.
In a place.
Probably in the manor.
Maybe in the room they’d talked about setting up?
He looked to Tim, and only then noticed that his tech idol was shucking off his boxers in exchange for new ones, entirely unselfconscious.
Tucker frowned back down at his current borrowed shirt instead, waiting til he at least heard both feet on the floor before looking over again. Tim might not care, but in case he did, Tucker could be a gentleman.
And then he could ask the important question.
“Speaking of Alfred… my clothes?” He asked hopefully, and yeah, the way Tim’s mouth dropped open and his brain visibly blue screened?
Just like Danny. They were gonna get along great.
**
Of all the top secret, private places in Gotham to go and have a villainous chat… Danny never would have expected a milkshake bar. But like he’d said last night, that was kinda what made it perfect.
Who’d expect to find Harley Quinn and Killer Croc, properly Waylon, sat in a pastel pink corner booth in the back of the bar?
Honestly, none of the staff seemed surprised. But they might not have been to see all the bats walk in; it was Gotham. Rogues happened. If no one pulled a weapon, don’t be the reason that changes.
It made him feel right at home, really. Just like Amity Park.
And they made a damn good milkshake. Danny took another deep slurp of his, cookie butter and cheesecake was definitely a combo he’d been sleeping on.
If pressed, he couldn’t really explain what he’d wanted out of this meeting.
Something in what Harley had said last night had struck home in a way he hadn’t expected, but with Waylon in front of him now… well, for one thing he seemed a lot more like just some guy who happened to be green.
And who was just adorably happy with his cotton candy milkshake, complete with little umbrella.
At the gala, he’d been big and menacing and monstrous, all things Danny was very used to and meant “friend” more often than they meant anything else. He’d still take a rematch, but he just…
Well, that was just it, wasn’t it?
Waylon really wasn’t all that monstrous, if you looked the faintest scratch past sharpened teeth and scales. He was polite to the servers, a happy straight-man to Harley’s jokes, and he could have teased Jason more for Danny’s tastes but it was definitely effective.
Jason was much more at ease here with two rogues than he’d been any time his adoptive dad was around. That… well, Danny knew full well he didn’t know much about Jason’s life.
It felt like he’d learned a whole lot more just today already, though again, it’d be hard to explain exactly what.
The conversation had been light, easy, and full of banter so far, and Danny really wasn’t sure how to segue from that to “so you were called a monster all your life”.
Because while for the most part Danny now only had to deal with the GIW calling him a monster (and they’d been quiet for years now, still rebuilding after the whole “bomb the ghost zone” bs)… the things his parents had called him still hurt.
The things people thought he was, ghosts and living alike, he just… he didn’t know what to do with it. These days he could mostly ignore it, and unlike Waylon he could even pass for living.
(Never for a ghost though. He’d never be able to stop any ghost from seeing him and knowing immediately, instinctively, that he was other.)
In some ways it felt like meeting Vlad all over again, but without the crushing disappointment. Well, what it might have been to learn there was another halfa if he hadn’t preceded it by being a massive creep.
It was… complicated. And all tangled up in his feelings around Jason, because Jason actually was like him and really did get it, or would soon.
And Jason clearly liked Waylon, for all he grimaced and bitched about the deadpan teasing. Waylon had a lot of interesting stories about Jason’s cape days, most of which Jason hurried to try to interrupt.
Harley had more, and they’d sat at opposite ends of the table before the boys had arrived, almost certainly so Jason couldn’t shush them both at once.
If he clapped a hand over Harley’s mouth, Waylon would either take up the tale or start one of his own, and vice versa. There was just no way Jason could win.
It reminded Danny of his own rogues, though maybe more Fright Knight than Ember or Johnny. The ones he got along with, but more respectfully than just his friends.
Kinda like watching Harley with the rest of the bat-brood.
Danny was very nobly doing his best not to enjoy it too much; within a week or two it’d be his turn roughhousing with his rogues, and he was hoping Jason would return the favour.
There was no way he could get any kind of ghost fight club going without his usual players, and those were the ones with all the most embarrassing stories of his early days.
Johnny and Kitty especially had blackmail material for days, so as much as Danny was loving the lil baby Robin stories (carefully never actually mentioning the name, since no one was masked)… no, his feeling was kinda more impending doom. It’d be his turn soon.
And Ancients help them if Harley and Waylon met Johnny and Kitty… nope, not thinking about that. Suppressing a shudder, Danny deliberately tuned back in to Waylon’s story about the time he’d kidnapped Bruce Wayne.
At least Jason was having fun with this one.
Of course, it couldn’t have the obvious ending; whether or not Waylon had known at the time that he had Batman, you couldn’t mention the punch line out in public. It’d be rude.
He left the story at the Robin beat down instead, declaring that the big Bat himself hadn’t even bothered to show up. Didn’t quite go full stage wink, but it was pretty much the next best thing.
Danny laughed along with the table and Jason shook his head, settling back into his seat with a low huff.
“Fun as this is, we did have some questions,” he said, voice just a little lower than before.
Danny was a little surprised he’d bring it up in such a public space. Right up until Harley glanced around, nodded, and settled back into her seat.
“Clear too. Any o’ the gawkers ‘ve been seen out,” she agreed with a slight nod.
Danny startled, looking around himself. The milkshake bar was… about half as full as it had been when they arrived. His confusion must have been obvious, because Waylon snickered.
“It ain’t the Iceberg Lounge, kid, but this is one of Dr Freeze’s more self sustaining operations. Can’t all be heisting diamonds,” he added with a slight shrug.
Not noticeably less confused, Danny turned to Jason instead. Jason chuckled softly, shaking his head and giving Danny a grin that was almost proud.
“Shit, you’ve lived in Gotham a year and it’s a fucking miracle how little you know. Iceberg Lounge is the Penguin’s upscale club. This place is run by the guy we talked about last night, freeze rays and diamond heists,” he explained quickly.
Harley snickered, draping her arms over the back of their booth.
“An’ if some o’ his ol’ Arkham buddies come in ta chat, his people know ta clear out anyone tryin’ to listen in too hard,” she added, nodding to one of the servers.
Well.
That tracked.
Danny had also definitely thoroughly demolished his “keeping away from rogues” spree, which kinda sucked. But then, since he’d basically gone from one extreme to the other?
Maybe that’d be fun to tell his classmates about too. It definitely tracked more with Danny’s understanding of his own luck. A whole year, no trouble? More like no chance.
Also meant this had to be a safe place to talk, apparently. What was it about rogues that made them so eager to get on with each other but nobody else?
Well, Danny got on with most of his now. But still.
Jason leaned forward, arms folded on the table.
“So what’s going on with Two Face, Waylon?” He asked quietly, still apparently aware of eavesdroppers.
Waylon glanced around the bar, then shrugged, settling back against the booth.
“Hard to say, with ‘im. Coulda been a coin flip, coulda been somethin’ else, but he wasn’t just gunnin’ for the gala. Somethin’ about you specifically put a bug in his ass, kid,” he added with a frown, nodding towards Jason.
Something in Danny tensed, not liking the idea of anyone targeting Jason. Of course, it must have happened before… when he was Robin.
And he’d died.
Danny hadn’t even noticed he was clenching his fists until Jason nudged his foot under the table.
Safe-worry-you okay? Jason’s aura was getting clearer, and Danny did his best to smile back. Sometimes his Obsession still snuck up on him.
Forcing himself to relax, he grabbed his milkshake instead. It felt warm, which was odd until he realised his hands were icy cold.
Not quite literally, but closer than he’d come in a while.
Neither of the rogues seemed to have notice, Harley playing with her milkshake while she frowned at Waylon.
“An’ you decided the best thing ta do was hit the gala first?” She asked dryly, her tone neatly conveying just what she thought of that idea.
Waylon shrugged.
“Not like I coulda swung an invite to get in nicely. Sounded like he had somethin’ real nasty planned, kid,” he added, shaking his head and leaning back in his seat.
Jason frowned, giving Danny another soft kick on the ankle as he leaned forward. Unnecessarily, for sure, Danny totally had his shit under control now.
“But no one said anything about why? I don’t think I’ve even met him,” Jason asked and yeah, that probably meant as Jason. Maybe even post Robin.
Waylon shrugged again.
“It’s fuckin’ Two Face. Maybe he ran outta matching targets and figured two lives had ta count?” He offered, though it looked like it was still bugging him too.
Harley huffed and shook her head, blonde ponytails bouncing.
“I’ll keep an ear out too. There’s a couple people who’ll prefer talkin’ ta me over you, sugar,” she teased Waylon as he grunted, a tinkling laugh falling from her lips.
Waylon snorted, but a reluctant smile curled his lips.
“More likely to spill to ya,” he agreed in a low grumble, poking his straw around a mostly empty milkshake.
Harley nodded brightly, clapping her hands.
“Exactly! ‘Specially if they don’t want any of their own special lil secrets told,” she agreed with a truly wicked smile. Then she paused, a slight frown curling her brow.
It was still a little weird to be able to see the moments where her brain revved up. Danny had to assume it was having been raised by Jazz; it was clearly easy for people to get lost in the bubbly exterior.
Fingers drumming on the table now, something had clearly jogged her memory.
“Might be somethin’ ta do with Black Mask too,” she said more quietly, gaze unusually serious as she caught Jason’s eyes, “he’s been quieter ‘n I like lately. Keepin’ ‘imself out of trouble.”
Danny might just ask if Jason could get him a rolodex of the Gotham villains to match the server Danny had provided for the Zone.
It did not help that they all had their own wild code names. He was used to dealing with people who had a lot of personality, sure, and theatrics. But ghosts usually just had the one name.
Except apparently for Frighty, or Halloween as Danny would have to start calling him now. It’d take some getting used to.
Jason noticed his desperately pleading puppy eyes and sighed.
“Look, I’ll give you the rundown on everyone tonight. Black Mask is a whole ass problem. Crime boss for the False Face Society, really likes skinning peoples’ faces. Red Hood kicked him out of Crime Alley a couple years ago, he firmed his grip on the rest of Gotham, and him being quiet is never fucking good.”
And as if that didn’t sound bad enough…
“An’ he really doesn’t like Jason,” Waylon growled, shoulders tightening and straining his shirt.
Something in Danny tensed again, and he forced himself to take a long, deep breath. Closed his eyes and took another.
This was why he’d avoided the whole subject. Until now.
He could taste Jason’s concern like a tang in the air as he spoke up.
“There’s fuck all he can do while I’m in the Alley though. Unless something’s really changed he can’t challenge Red Hood,” he explained quietly, leaning in until their shoulders brushed.
Harley heaved a dramatic sigh, raising a hand and waving to one of the servers.
“Yeah, yeah, you jus’ take care of yaself, kid. Roman’s a pain in the ass an’ if ya let him kill ya again he’ll be intolerable,” she grumbled, the tone at odds with the cheery smile she gave the first server to glance over. “Another round!”
“Anything different?” The server, a young man with shaggy blond hair asked.
Danny considered it, since the menu was both extensive and interesting, but really? It’d complicate things, and he didn’t want to think about something else.
Just the idea of some asshole gangster trying to kill Jason was bad enough. But he sucked in another deep breath and reminded himself that this was pretty much all speculative.
Black Mask was quiet, not actively threatening, and Gotham had an army of vigilantes to keep an eye on him even before Harley and Waylon got involved. An army of vigilantes who all seemed to like Jason.
Jason wasn’t worried. Danny wasn’t gonna go all protective mama bear on the guy just because rogues existed.
The one thing he’d always promised himself was that even with a Protection Obsession, he was never gonna be as bad as Jazz at her clingiest.
He loved his sister, she meant well, but he’d hated her constant fussing. Danny had actually died sure, but he’d come right back and she hadn’t noticed for months.
Jason didn’t have a scratch on him. Or any reason to put up with a clingy almost-stranger, Danny reminded himself as he accepted his new milkshake, hiding a smile behind the glass.
Hell, if Jason being Fright Knight meant he’d sense if Danny was in danger, maybe that could work both ways. That’d be worth asking Frostbite about, and they had to see him for Jason’s core checkup soon.
Having survived one Clockwork encounter without a lecture, Danny wasn’t pushing his luck.
And if it turned out that it wouldn’t be that easy… well, there were other ways Danny could know if Jason was hurt, and unless they had a way to change dimensions? No Gotham rogue could take Jason anywhere that Danny couldn’t find him.
The feel of another halfa was still faint for now, barely noticeable unless Jason was in the same room, but it was already stronger.
Or Danny was more used to looking for him. More used to the feel of his energy, the boiling rage of the pit tangled up in everything else that was Jason.
Kinda a lot still angry, but tempered. Mixed in with that wonderful sense of humour, dry sarcasm and death jokes, and determination.
Danny was pretty sure he could find Jason pretty much anywhere on Earth right now if he had to. And it would only get easier.
With the question of Harvey Dent settled as much as it would be (and if a flip of a coin was all he needed, maybe as much as it could be), the conversation turned lighter.
Harley and Waylon stayed off the topic of rogues, probably to minimise the need to keep filling Danny in. They also mostly avoided embarrassing baby Jason stories though.
No, instead they filled Danny and Jason in on what they’d been up to down on Coney Island.
Danny had never expected to enjoy another circus story again, let alone an actual freakshow, but somehow? Hearing Harley tell it, he almost wanted to drop by.
Not see the damn show. Nope. Hard pass.
But hanging out with the performers, Harley’s tenants? That sounded like fun. They were just ordinary people, if a bit to the left.
Roller derby sounded great, even if Danny wouldn’t play it with humans. In the Ghost Zone though? They could probably make a rink. And baseball bats.
Waylon’s stories were way more domestic too; there was just something about a 7’ crocodile man telling you about his efforts to finally hold the skittish little grey kitten upstairs.
It was just… well. Like hanging out with Kitty and Johnny, or Wulf. Maybe the only people who could understand what it was like to be a vigilante were the rogues who fit the other half of the mold.
They all lived lives skewed away from the normal, didn’t fit in. The more they talked and shared stories, the more Danny settled. Relaxed.
Which was when the last piece finally fell into place. He knew what he wanted to ask Waylon now.
**
Still on edge from the night before, Constantine wasn’t exactly thrilled to bits to be hearing from the Big Bat again so soon.
Honestly, why couldn’t he have a nice, normal emergency? Just the world ending, some arch demon jumping for the throne of Hell, a wayward amateur magician or cursed artefact?
Why did it always have to be Amity fuckin’ Park?
Still, after they’d given the whole League the rundown, John was planning on washing his hands of the whole affair. They’d be up to date, they’d have his recommendation (leave well enough alone), and whatever they did after that?
That could be Zatanna’s problem. Or Shazam’s. Which didn’t really matter.
So of course there was just one more thing that Batman wanted from him first.
“A health check on yer revenant?” He asked skeptically, arms folded as he scowled at an annoyingly refreshed and rejuvenated looking Batman.
Who just nodded patiently like he hadn’t said anything crazy.
“Nothing strenuous. Just a check in, and then we move on to the meeting,” he agreed blandly, watching John from behind the cut outs.
Constantine pinched the bridge of his nose and drew in a heavy breath. Let it out. Decided not to think about all of the things that could go wrong tangling with a fuckin’ revenant.
Bats was still here, hale and healthy, so the kid was clearly used to extreme provocation. How bad could John’s company be?
Way, way worse the little honest part of him supplied, but…
Well. The worst of it all was, no matter how damn annoying the man was, how fucking insistent on poking into shit that’d get ‘em all killed?
Constantine liked him.
Just a bit. The tiniest, littlest bit, that he firmly ground under his heel at every opportunity, and especially when that poking was getting close to end-of-the-world levels.
It was the only reason the League had his number at all, because John Constantine sure as shit was not a hero. He liked the world not ending, yeah, but he coulda had Zatanna call him for those.
He just. Had maybe the very smallest soft spot for how earnest the Big Three all were, deep down. Wonder Woman especially, there was a lady who’d been in the game longer than John himself, and yet it never fuckin’ touched her.
They still looked at the world, at an old shit like John Constantine, and saw something worth saving.
So even when he was tired, stressed, and wondering just how deep he should dare to probe to check the Bat’s explorations in Amity Park hadn’t garnered the wrong kind of attentions…
He huffed another reluctant sigh. It did not help knowing that even if he refused, the Bat would just argue him down until John gave in, or the meeting started.
It was three hours before the meeting was due to start.
Constantine would rather jump straight through the damn Fenton portal.
“Fine,” he growled, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his trench coat. If the revenant got cranky, he could always hide behind the big Bat.
The bastard didn’t even bother thanking him, just nodded like he’d expected John to agree all along, and made for the exit.
Were they fuckin’ going out in full costume? In the middle of the day?
Well heavens forbid Bruce Goddamn Wayne do anything subtly.
**
Tim’s afternoon was going great. Thanks to Tucker, he’d had a full and hearty brunch, which made Alfred happy.
Tim wasn’t much of a gourmet himself, probably as a result of having to survive on what he could find in the house between his parents’ visits. So long as it went down his throat and kept him alive, he was happy.
He knew Alfred’s cooking was great, it always tasted fantastic, he just… didn’t get excited about food.
Tucker though? Tucker gushed enthusiastically over every bite, moaning loudly as he dug into pancakes, sausages, bacon, and even black pudding.
He enjoyed his food almost as much as Wally, and Tim found himself savouring his own a little more as he watched. Usually he’d swallow half of it whole, just to get back to work.
But he didn’t have a new case today. Sure, there was still work to do on Amity Park (and rewriting all of the Justice League reporting protocols, ugh).
But he had Tucker here to help, and really, today could be about getting to know the guy. He’d more than learned his lesson from the last few days.
It turned out that food tasted a whole lot better if he actually stopped to chew it.
They’d talked while they ate too, Tucker often with his mouth full like he just couldn’t stop and wait to swallow.
It was kinda adorable.
Tim had shared some stories about the missions he’d been on with Young Justice, Tucker had told him more about Technus. There may have been a secret side trip to Amity Park in the works so Tim could meet him.
And introduce Cassie to Pandora.
There may also have been a secret side trip to the Ghost Zone being planned too. That one was gonna have to be extra-double-top-secret though, since Constantine put a bug in B’s ass about the Infinite Realms.
But honestly, how bad could it be if three completely untrained teenagers could just hop in and out on a whim?
Sure, there were risks. Some of the bigger, scarier ghosts that Tucker told him about. And just the air of the realms itself, which wasn’t great for humans in the long term.
That, Tim was a little less sure about. Tucker could say it’d never done him any harm all he liked, but he was kinda half dead now. Dead enough for super powers.
Not that Tim wanted super powers. It’s not like he’d ever needed them to keep up with his super friends. He didn’t need them, not even to interface his brain with his computer…
Nope.
But that was also how they got around to how Tucker would be getting home, because Tim finally twigged.
“Wait… when you say Danny flew you here, you didn’t actually mean what you said about the plane, did you?” He asked cautiously when they’d migrated back to the bat cave (with a plate of cookies and juice. Alfred was totally taking advantage of a chance to feed Tim).
Tucker grinned sheepishly and shrugged.
“Well, I didn’t know Danny was gonna just go off like that right away. But yeah, he just came and grabbed me and we flew through the Ghost Zone.”
He seemed to think Tim might be upset with him, but honestly? This was great news. They might be able to wrangle a little extra time.
“So… needing to go home today was because of Danny?” He asked hopefully.
Tucker caught on at once, like the genius he was, tracking Tim’s grin and beginning to smile in return.
“Well, technically I do also have classes on Monday, but so long as I’m back tonight I can fake it if you have another way to get me home, like… say, a bat plane?” He asked innocently, head cocked to one side.
Tim snatched up his phone, sending a quick text. Of course, there was always the chance Connor wouldn’t answer. Or that he’d be busy. Or that he’d have school.
As if he wouldn’t have dropped pretty much anything when Tim called him. God Tim loved his boyfriend.
“I was actually thinking of something a little more discrete than the bat plane… especially since you have some experience being carried.”
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Next chapter:
#dp x dc#danny fenton dead and loving it#dc x dp#dead on main ship#danny x jason#chapter 14#a good excuse to be a bad influence#it’s finally heeeeere#despite the world’s best efforts#the musical interlude
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Something I really like about Only Friends is the characters are so complexly written and layered that I kind of wind up being an apologist or detractor for all of them at different points in time. I don't really have a black and white view of the characters, which is usually the only thing you have in BL.
Top's a fuckboy with substance abuse issues. But also, he seems like he genuinely wants connection, and I feel bad for him sometimes because it's so clear he wants Mew to be affectionate with him, and Mew just isn't.
Mew is controlling. A giant walking defense mechanism that can't connect will with people. But also, he's surrounded by people who don't have his best interests in mind, and as he's opening up, we're seeing that he's not some criminal mastermind. In fact, that's the mask. The real Mew is just some dumb college kid who's into a guy he's scared of being vulnerable with, because he's never caught feelings he couldn't control. It's so obvious someone messed Mew up REAL GOOD.
Boston is.... He's an objectively terribly human being. He's also a miserable human being though, a lot like Ray, and he places so much of his value on sex he doesn't know how to make meaningful bonds. It's clear he's nuts about Nick, that he wants to monopolize his affections and attentions, but he doesn't know how to translate that into something healthy. Like Mew, his relationship with sex is fucked, and at the core of an inability to bond. I actually think he's jealous of Mew because there's a parallel there, but whereas Boston is derided for his relationship with sex and inability to connect, Mew is praised. Boston is a shit human being, but he is to be pitied.
Ray's kind of a dick. He's self-centered, won't take no for an answer from Mew, he has substance abuse issues, and saying Sand wasn't his boyfriend because he's holding onto that hope for Mew was fucked. But he's also got major depressive disorder, his parents sound like real pieces of work, and Khao does such a great job of conveying his fragility you can really sense how close to just breaking apart he is. He fucks up, but you still want him to get to a better place.
Sand, oh dear god, this boy has my heart. He's not perfect. Yeah, he sells hooch, he smokes weed, he parties. But he's got flaws too. He works too much, his head's in the clouds, he's destined to wind up on a sexiest mugshots website, and he falls too hard, too fast. He lets himself get led around by the nose by Ray. Sand's the easiest character to like on this show. He's got a hustle, but he's also got 'dude I wouldn't be deeply uncomfortable to be in a room alone with' energy.
Nick's not completely guiltless with his relationship with Boston. I've got a soft spot for him because he's a sweet, quiet kid, and I have a habit of adopting introverts. But he's not like Mew, he knew his way around both dick and dicks from the start, and wasn't blind to who Boston was. He bugged the car. That was a little too extra. I still wanna buy him cheeseburgers and tell him these boys ain't shit though, because he's so miserably in love with Boston, and Boston might be up front with him, but he's still stringing him along, telling him what he wants to hear, and giving more when Nick expresses interest in seeing other people. Was recording Boston and Top some pure creep mode shit to do? Yes. But do I support him using the recording to put Boston in his place? Yeah, I do.
Cheum is another easy to like characters, but we don't get to see much of her, so aside from simply liking her dancing queen energy, I can't really make an assessment. I like that she's the only one in the group actually helping Mew with the project. Also, I laughed when she clocked Ray as most fuckable. Most queer woman would agree, and Jojo is out here making us feel attacked.
Anyways, in summation, I'm thinking of opening a GoFundMe to get therapy for fictional characters. I still can't believe we've got 7 more episodes of drams to get through.
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sometimes in your vid essays when you briefly diverge into the topic of powerscaling and such I find it hilarious in regards to One Piece specifically because that series is so allergic to that kind of discussion. like as someone who's well-versed in regards to How Powerscaling Works, OP straight up does not give numbers the way other series do and if you go to any powerscaling type wiki/website their OP pages are in fact just born from a million assumptions. One Piece will have a dude say "Im Big Dick McGee" and do one insanely cool thing that has everyone freaking out and powerscalers will be pulling their hair out because *they can't quantify that shit* and have to make a million assumptions as to how strong OP characters really are.
And i feel like Oda has the same mindset because he introduced the doriki system as an actual Power Scale System in water seven and then threw it the hell away mid arc with no reference to it ever again and YET because it's the single point of actual in-series power measuring youll find forums today still using it to make 15 more follow-up assumptions for characters in the current canon. no one can handle the silly goofines of this whole thing and thats not even counting how OP powerlevel discussions become lore discussions too bc how are they going to account for everyone being superhuman due to their planet being far more massive and thus having stronger gravity.
its so hilarious no other shonen could ever resist not introducing a consistent powerscaling system for 2+ decades
EXACTLY DFGHJKDF this is why I've been SAYING you can call One Piece a battle shonen all you want, because there ARE battles in it, but Oda so CLEARLY puts narrative over ANY sort of power system. Every time someone asks Oda any battle relevant question, he always answers with some bullshit JHKFGD like "how far can Luffy stretch?? oh about 20 gum gums" LIKE HHHH he so clearly DOESN'T care to stick to any strict power system. I mean the most recent huge fight was a TOM AND JERRY inspired fight for god's sake, Gear 5 throws any and all power scaling conversations out the window for all we know Gear 5 can do fucking ANYTHING.
I've literally seen One Piece guys and Dragonball guys fighting about whether Gear 5 could beat Goku, and it's like, mother fucker for all we know Gear 5 could just bugs bunny a kamehameha back at him JDFHGKD like we literally do not know the scale of Gear 5. Hell we don't know the scale of MOST characters in One Piece. I was SO confused as to why the term 'admiral level' was a thing cause we've barely seen the admirals...do anything?? Like yeah Akainu can turn into magma and whatever, but what else??? Why is this term even a thing if we haven't even seen the scale of what any of these guys can do JKFGDFGD I will admit I have a much more plot/narrative driven head but I truly cannot understand how One Piece power scalers get any of their arguments or data hhhhhh
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Current Events Reading Reccs
I had a couple of people asking me about my “current events” reading in general (news aggregators, podcasts, etc) so I figured I’d just list them off here.
I don’t read any tumblrs that are specifically focused on current events, I just kinda get news from various people I’ve followed, but I’ve found in general it helps to find people for whom the news is a hobby, not a consuming habit. I have communists and anarchists and prison abolitionists on my dash, but they aren’t people who have made that their identity, which removes the “You are insufferable” factor. So I guess find fandom weirdos with strong political views and follow ‘em.
Also I want to state at the top that part of why I’m on top of shit that I get through Tumblr is that I have a policy of never reblogging or reacting to anything until I have 1. read the article being linked and 2. done my own research. This has saved me a vast deal of embarrassment, because sometimes I’ll save something outrageous to research and before I can even research it, it’s been rebutted. I cannot stress how important the process of reading and research is -- you can’t get your news from headlines and particularly not clickbait you see on Tumblr.
As far as I know there’s no single tumblr clearinghouse for good high-level current events reporting and analysis (the analysis I think is a vital part) but if folks have resources they use, drop ‘em in the comments or reblogs.
Anyway, some mailing lists I belong to are:
Quartz Daily Brief: finance and tech, mainly. Back when they were for-pay I paid for them, this newsletter was that entertaining. I believe they’ve now gone fee-free but they sometimes link to paywalls. I get it as an email newsletter, that’s just a link to the web version.
Breakfast with ARTNews: Obviously a bit niche but I really like keeping up with the art world and they cover art crime too. The link is to the all-newsletters signup page, I only belong to Breakfast.
The Futurist: This is the most insufferable nonsense masquerading as news ever. The ads are indistinguishable from the content. But it does help me keep a finger hard on the pulse of what irritating tech bros are into. Watch scams unfold in real time!
I also follow a number of local interests -- community centers and neighborhood organizations primarily -- in Chicago, so those are always good to hunt up. Most major cities have a “citycast” podcast (just search “citycast [your city]” in your podcatcher) that is also good for local news.
Some websites:
Longreads: Since longform.org went under, the best place to find the current longform pieces that everyone’s talking about.
Brand Eating: Extremely niche, but I really love reading about “brand” food trends. It covers new food releases and sales and such in the areas of packaged food (potato chips, candy, etc), fast food, and casual dining. It’s also great as a resource for cheap eats.
I stopped reading Bon Appetit recently (they ran this appallingly sympathetic story about a dickhead hiring manager) but like, honestly, if you want to track food trends, the BA email newsletter is kinda the way to go. If you’d like good food news in podcast form, I recommend The Sporkful (it’s in the podcast list).
I used to read the Chicago Tribune, New York Times, and Fortune Magazine (which mostly scraped the not-awful stuff from Forbes) but I’ve cut it down to just the Trib; I don’t really need Fortune to keep me current and the NYT has morphed into a creepy proto-fash nightmare. The Trib has pretty good national/international coverage so if you don’t have a decent local paper it’s not bad, but I don’t know how much access you get as a nonpaying reader (I subscribe).
Podcasts:
Quartz has a podcast, Quartz Obsession, which is off-and-on in terms of when episodes come out but very interesting when they do.
Planet Money is a once-weekly podcast about economics, and has a daily show called “The Indicator” which is daily “small bites” current events coverage.
The Late Show and the Daily Show both have an “ears edition” podcast that’s just the show audio; I’ve stopped listening for the most part but if you want good cultural commentary, that’s the place to go.
The Journal by the Wall Street Journal is a weekly podcast focusing on one or two news stories, generally pretty relevant.
Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me is a panel show but it’s a fun way to get bite-sized news you can look up later in more detail if you want. And it’s taped in Chicago! If you listen you can hear me in the audience laughing. :D (I’m going to another taping in a few weeks!)
Behind The Bastards is actually a history podcast but if you’re listening current he does a bit of current-events commentary, and also I just really like it as a podcast.
Stuff You Should Know is a trivia podcast but they occasionally do current-events stuff.
The Sporkful is pretty good about current food news, although I run hot and cold on it.
I used to listen to a really good “professional” medical podcast, but it went full paywall when it started to offer certain forms of professional credit, so I found The House Of Pod as a very good free replacement. It’s not really for non-doctors, but as a non-doctor I still find it accessible and informative. (For medical history and curiosity, I do highly recommend Bedside Rounds, but I wouldn’t call it a current events cast.)
So that’s how I get my news -- it’s not what I would call fully comprehensive but it’s reasonably informative!
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Online & Anonymous 3/16
Hangster. Explicit. Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.
Odd year = Bradely's POV and Even year = Jake's POV
>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)
>>Jake chatting (italics)
2005/2006 2007
2008 – Jake
Flight school.
Four years at USNA and now he’s back in Texas, the familiarity seeping into him like a homecoming and part of him cannot believe he made it into flight school. Not that he’ll let anyone else think he had any doubt, but he is inwardly fist pumping, outwardly trying to pretend it’s no big deal. He doesn’t care if it comes off smug, he does feel a little smug, that he obviously good enough to have been selected. Damn it feels good. And also such a relief.
He’s good enough.
He wants to share it with Nick. Doesn’t of course. While he trusts Nick with pretty much every little piece of vulnerability when it’s related to his sexuality and experience in that arena, his career is shaping up to be another huge part of his identity and he doesn’t need help or guidance from a guy on a website on how to best work on this aspect of his life. He feels like he’s got this one. After a few months though he decides to share, in a vague way, because he’s been getting comments from his instructors.
Approval.
He’s doing well.
>>You ever accomplish something that people didn’t think you could do?
>>That even you maybe didn’t think you could do?
>>HA.
>>Yes.
>>Feels fucking amazing to prove them wrong.
Jake grins at the screen, wants to tell him about how amazing it is, being in the air. How much he loves it, the rush of the pressure pushing him back into the seat as he takes off. The
>>I got into my first choice of programme. So yeah.
>>Does feel pretty good.
>>Well done. Proud of you.
>>Thanks.
>>Think you maybe need to believe in yourself more.
>>Maybe.
>>My parents didn’t.
>>Don’t.
He hasn’t talked about his parents with Nick. Talking about your parents generally doesn’t come up when your jerking off with another guy online, but they talk about a lot of different stuff now and it fits with this right now. He feels like Nick might get it.
>>I came out to them and they kicked me out.
>>Oh shit. I’m sorry.
>>I mean, it’s not a competition but my parents are dead so I can understand that feeling of loss I guess? Like they should be around to support me, but they aren’t.
>>Sucks more for you I think. They’re alive and are just bigots.
>>I was lucky to already have a place to go.
>>I’m extra proud of you.
Pensacola is a different beast than boat school, everyone seems to be a little smug that they made the cut to be there, and Jake lets himself absorb the culture. He tries sleeping with a woman only to find that he can apparently have worse sexual experiences than his first time with a man, and of course he finds himself messaging Nick.
>>Bad sex with a man is still preferable than bad sex with a woman.
>>You give in to peer pressure and hook up huh?
>>How did you know?
>>Been there, done that. Got the tshirt.
>>As a gay man I have to tell you that even bad sex with a man rates above mediocre sex with a woman.
>>Why do people care so much where you want to stick your dick?
>>I like that rhyme. And I have no fucking clue. Mystery. It’s not like gay people haven’t always existed.
>>I’ve got a friend, female friend, who knows I’m gay, and she let’s me use her as a beard sometimes. Everyone thinks we have an on-again off-again fuck-buddies type thing going on.
>>So you’re still not out to people.
>>Nope. Would make work impossible so I just –
>>Hide in plain sight.
>>Huh. I wonder if I could get one of my friends to cover for me.
>>A lot less women in the military. Good luck I guess?
>>Well. I think one of my friends might just lie for me. Tell others that he saw me leaving with a hot chick or something. He’s the best wingman.
He stares at the message, wishes he could call it back.
Delete it.
It’s too close to home.
Wingman.
>>Definitely need a good wingman if you’re planning on cruising. You got bigger balls then me if you’re going to try and do it while you’re not on leave.
>>Are you sure that’s safe?
>>It’s not like they’re following me and putting cameras in rooms. I just need to be careful. Although so not worth it most of the time. But it would be kind of nice to have the option if it did present itself.
>>Yeah, I’m sure guys are just falling into your lap in the military.
>>I mean, they might be and I’m just not picking up the signs. They’re probably so repressed they wouldn’t be any good anyway.
>>I’ll leave that for you to find out.
>>Not sure if I should be wishing you luck or telling you to be careful.
Jake isn’t sure either. He probably not going to risk it.
… … …
It’s not always possible for them to have instant communication. He gets interrupted sometimes, or Nick isn’t available for days at a time, sometimes weeks, and his own schedule is erratic. However he’s always had time, made time, to chat with him since they found each other and he doesn’t have so many close friends that he can afford to ignore one.
“What are you always doing on your laptop?” Javy asks and Jake feels like time freezes around him for a split second. Javy is one of the few people he’d count as a friend, his easy-going nature dealing with Jake’s prickliness effortlessly, seemingly patient and just waiting for Jake to come around. They were at USNA together and it wasn’t until they shared all their third- and second-class summers together that Jake had thought that maybe they could be friends.
“Talking with a friend. He travels a lot.”
He feels like it’s not actually a stretch of the truth, because he’s figured out that Nick moves around, the times he can talk inconsistent, meaning different times zones. He’s always assumed that Nick is American, but now he knows that the website they’re using to chat is actually based in England, and for all he knows Nick could be anywhere in the world.
>>Are you American?
>>Will you stop talking to me if I say no?
>>Of course not.
>>I’m shaking my head at you. You’re meant to be all patriotic being a member of our military. Shouldn’t be communicating with the enemy.
>>You just called it our military. Pretty sure you’re American.
>>Caught out. Yeah. I travelled around a lot as a kid. Tennessee, California, Virginia, Maryland and even Texas. Who knows, we could have walked past each other and never even known.
>>Yeah. We could have. That would be a weird coincidence.
“You know, if you ever want to tell me something, I’m pretty good at keeping secrets.”
Jake’s head snaps up so fast he’s surprised there isn’t an accompanying sound.
“What?”
“Just. Uh. I know if there was something, you can’t tell me. But if you did, and I’m not asking you to, but if you did, I wouldn’t be letting anyone else know. No telling on my part, that is.”
He blinks.
Holy shit.
That’s pretty much Javy saying he knows, or at least suspects, that Jake is… something other than straight.
“Just, once second. Just let me say bye…”
>>I think I’m about to come out to a guy who is my best friend in real life, because you’re my best friend in not-real life, plus we have sex and I do not want to ever have sex with J, but uh… I think I might be sick.
>>I’ll talk to you soon.
His conversation with Javy goes around in circles for a little bit, Javy not willing to ask outright, and Jake unprepared to speak the truth; terrified to voice it. Then Javy gets fed up, places his hands on Jake’s shoulders and just stares at him, expression serious.
“Jake. You’re the closest thing I have to a brother. There is nothing, nothing,” he stresses, “that would make me stop loving you as my brother and best friend. So, if in some hypothetical world you felt brave enough to tell me that you were… gay, then it wouldn’t change anything for me. I just. I got your back no matter what okay?”
Jake can’t form words, grabs Javy into a tight hug, he’s biting his lip so hard it hurts, might even be drawing blood and he nods.
“Thank you.”
“Any time man. You want to go shoot some pool?”
Jake lets out a shaky breath and nods again.
They spend several hours together, in which Javy seems to want to really impress upon Jake that nothing is going to change between them. He still uses his body to shove Jake out of the way when he shows Javy up at pool, still slaps his ass in a vain attempt to distract him while playing darts, grabs them beers and doesn’t pull his fingers away when they accidentally brush like Jake is somehow going to take that as a sign of something more. He can have friends that know and they won’t hate him.
It’s a revelation.
… … …
>>How did it go?
>>I’m kind of worried about you.
>>Hope you haven’t done anything stupid.
>>Or been beaten up.
>>Dishonorable discharge.
>>Fuck Jas, please tell me you’re okay.
Jake stares at the flood of messages and feels touched, but also a little hysterical, because none of those worse case scenarios are going to happen. He trusts Javy with his life, he can definitely trust him with knowing.
>>I’m okay. Sorry.
>>It was fine. He had pretty much guessed and we talked about it. He’s the best.
>>After you.
>>Glad to know I haven’t been replaced.
>>I appreciated you for the orgasms.
>>Oh. Okay. Putting me back in my place.
>>Prefer you to put me in my place.
>>Really now? You in the mood huh?
>>Yeah.
>>Fuck. This is awful timing. I’ve got to leave in like five minutes.
>>Can’t take care of you like I want to.
>>That’s okay. You can go out and do what you need to do, and while you’re out you can think about me, jerking off as I type out what I want to do to you.
>>Unfair.
>>Hot though.
>>Shit. I’ve really got to go. I look forward to reading whatever you leave me.
Jake grins, a little nervous. He’s gotten better at this, anything he does regularly for a few years becomes better, but he doesn’t know if it’s good. Not without Nick offering his constant feedback. He always finds what they talk about together the best, but Nick has left him plenty of messages that are just descriptions of what he wants and likes that Jake wants to return the favor.
>>I want to go down on you, suck you off until you come. I want to kneel in front of you and take my time, learn the taste and smell of you. The texture of your skin under my tongue and fingers.
>>I want to do it while I’m in my uniform, because that feels taboo you know? Want you to rub the head of your dick over my lips.
>>Want you naked so I can touch everywhere.
>>I start off slow, a little cautious because I want you to fuck my face, but we’re going to need to build up to that, stretch out my mouth and throat a little, let me gets used to the feel of you in my mouth and throat.
>>I really want to do this. I’m hard just thinking about it. Like the idea of your hand on my head, just guiding me, think I’d enjoy fingernails scraping my head.
>>I want to do this with a guy with no condom, I want to taste the skin and salt. I want that trust as well.
>>I’d trust you.
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hey dude! What's up :)) been just a little since l've said something
Initially, this is me saying thank you and goodbye
This isn't supposed to be a weird pity story, so l'm so unbelievably sorry if it comes off that way, lol.
When I began reading your work, I was enamoured with fiction because of personal issues (as many usually are, honestly, I know I'm one of god knows how many people trying to run away from life for just a second with fanfics or media in general). I don't know if I will ever be able to communicate this properly, hell, this will even be unbelievable funny or dramatic but I need to get this across because it's coming from a genuine place. Your stories and work thus far has brought me comfort, immense heaps of it, and even still when I deal with things that feel out of reach or too much to actually face head on I find myself wandering back to syg or just your blog in general
I mean this, from my entire heart, thank you and thank Bee. A million times thank you, for making that one silly silly stupid piece of fanfiction, because oh my god it got me through some major stressful hardships within my life for the past 3 years.
I am leaving tumblr, however I’m aware I have submitted asks with my actual accounts before, so you'll likely be able to see they're still gonna be up. I'm just deleting tumblr the app instead of my account, but for other social platforms they will be deleted properly (such as quotev) so I won’t be indulging in much reading anymore when it comes to fanfics and such lol
I don't know if I'll come back, if I do I likely will not be back for long or to be as active as l've been because of the toll social media’s taken. So even as ridiculous as this feels, to tell someone I’m simply a fan of and barely truly know, that their fanfic of murderers and their love story with my self insert kept me pushing through a lot of tough days, I genuinely just had to.
I needed to thank both you and your partner for the work you've both put out. I still have that smiley pin I’d made, and I will cherish what you made quotev have been for me ( I literally found out about the website during early or late 2020 I can barely remember, then later found your fic, I was DEEP DIVING into that shit LMAO )
I hope whatever happens for you and bee in the future is only good, and I only will wish nothing but the best of luck with everything man.
feel free to post this (idk what it’s called but when you publicly reply lol) or not, as long as you read this it’ll mean lots to me !! >:))
your coolest weirdest ticci toby fan whose also named toby, 🐚 annon
I always struggle to convey gratefulness for messages like this and readership- especially repeated readership. My life would be different if it were not for comments and messages egging us on to keep writing from syg to ho1c. While it's easy to say that writing is solely out of passion for the craft there is also the drive to share something with others. Hearing those others loud or quiet as a favorite- does push us forward when we have no motivation or desire to work. That drive has made us closer as a couple, better thinkers, and a halfway decent writing team. I thank you and all the others who send us stuff even if it's shit post asks I never answer because I like having them in my inbox like a personal horde of platonic Valentine's. I like keeping the pieces you give me to myself sometimes. I know it may seem like I'm ignoring you but I find genuine comfort in these messages. That there are so many. That they are so varied. That we have reached beyond our shut-in existence to touch the lives of others.
I find myself wondering where an anon has gone when I do not hear from them in awhile. I wish them well. I wish them better standards than us.
Maybe we'll meet again someday space cowboy. If you're ever back in town feel free to shoot me (a message).
Thank you for reaching out. Thank you for reading. I wish you peace and love and good books.
#though i may be inactive as of lates my thoughts have not been#abby and i talk about you#abby and i talk about a lot of you#we are happy to be present day comforts or 2020 nostalgia#🐚#anon#reply#long post
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it’s also just about simple size — stuff like fentanyl vs. morphine work by equivalency. so in the hospital a dose of fentanyl may technically be a lower number, like a microgram amount, but it’s on the same equivalency as a standard dose of 4mg of morphine. that’s why cops are full of shit claiming this small amount will kill most people, they give those in medicinal doses. it simply saves space for the higher level dealers trying to avoid law detection. if i can take 1/100th the weight of a dose of heroin, then i can get more into one space. it’s pretty good business sense, except when it finally gets to a customer who believed they were getting something else, and doses the incorrect weight. however true, addicts become increasingly aware of this and adjust accordingly — a common technique is to break off a piece of pill, and smoke it to test if it’s a pressed one or not. onset is faster, so you can judge faster if you really got oxy, or if you got fentanyl. of course another danger is the distribution is not even, the pressed pills can have “hot spots”.
most “fake acid” and stuff like that tends to be research chemicals that also work on serotonin to cause hallucinations, and “fake MDMA” just amphetamines. never heard of anyone dying from these or even experiencing psychosis in the case of amphetamines passed off as MDMA, because of several factors. sometimes it may be because they’ve never had the real thing, and can’t tell the difference, and these drugs don’t tend to be abused by non-addicts (the research chemicals no one really abuses in excess, but there are definitely people who enjoy trying them out, and documenting them. these same types of people also try out things like fentanyl analogs, they’re a great and helpful asset.)
so it is true it does largely depend on drug market, and who it’s being sold to. again a lot of this is very hard to prove in stats or numbers, since a lot of “data” we have isnt trustworthy, but it’s interesting there are websites that post samples that users send in to be tested. you’d be honest to god surprised at the stuff that’s put into products, and a lot of it on face value doesn’t seem like a great idea for business.
Thank you so much for these additions! It's so valuable to get the perspective of an addict and activist as my own is somewhat limited by me not having such a background, even as I try to be an ally to all kinds of users/addicts ❤️
#chat with kat#addiction tw#drugs tw#overdose tw#health risk tw#opiods tw#fentanyl tw#death tw#psychedelics tw
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I feel like there's an epidemic of businesses trying to make customers and applicants do free data entry for them and it's driving me crazy.
I have complained many times about how seeing a doctor now involves checking in online, and then entering duplicate information into something else when you check in physically, and then answering duplicate questions once you're actually inside the exam room. Sometimes somebody addresses this in a humane way: "Sorry, we're using a new CMS and we have to do all this stuff from scratch," or "Sorry, we have to use these three different systems and they don't communicate with each other." Last time I went I did all this like research into my past appointments because I never ever remember off the cuff exactly what day I had this or that procedure, and I had every impression that the clinic was dependent on me to have all my medical records memorized...so I got in there and started rattling off information, and the nurse asked "When was your last mammogram?", and I gave her the date, and she looked at her monitor and said, "...yup, there it is!" Like WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, IF IT WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU WHY ARE YOU QUIZZING ME ABOUT THIS, WHY IS THIS A TEST???
I actually asked about redundant check-in procedures on Quora of all places, figuring there had to be a few cantankerous cranks on there who could at least try to explain this to me, but there were absolutely no takers at all. As far as I can see, literally no one knows why this is happening, it's just The Way It Is.
But anyway. Now I'm having this experience with job applications where they request that you upload files for your resume and cover letter in specific formats...and then they direct you to this interface where you are made to transcribe every detail from the resume you just provided by hand, one field at a time. I've been confronted with this insanity when applying for jobs whose wages weren't even worth the mind-numbing exercise of the application process. And actually this is part of my point: Data entry is a JOB. I have had this job. I was paid to examine, reformat, and transcribe data, and upload it to a database for my company to search and cross-reference in the future. If you are an employer and you absolutely require BOTH a pdf of my resume and cover letter that a human being can read and evaluate, AND each piece of data from those documents individually entered into your database for some other form of storage and review, then it is seriously fucking Up to You to pay some wage slave to enter the data. I'm looking for a job. I'm not going to do a job for you for fucking free, in order to become eligible for a job that you might consider paying me for later. Like please don't call me a fucking idiot to my face--or at least, if it's the database part that's the most important thing to you, do not also require me to create a nicely-formatted document containing my history and intentions. Let's just get right to the forced data entry part, let's start this awful relationship from a place of honesty at the very fucking least.
N.B. I realize that there are multiple reasons an employer would do this to a person, ranging from algorithmic candidate-sorting to just having outdated-ass job site shit in place that they don't feel like reviewing or revising. I don't really care why it's happening, I just hate that it is. Recently I tried to apply for some $15/hr part-time job at a local museum that a caveman could do, and I stopped cold when I realized I had to transcribe every detail of the documents I just gave them into this bullshit backend website that looked like it was about a thousand years old. No Thank You. Currently I'm all worked up because I just applied to work at a hip, culty, local theater, and I was shocked that after completing the totally normal application routine, I received an automated email directing me to "complete your profile" as "an important part of the hiring process" on the website of the company they're outsourcing all their HR and billing stuff to. And I go look at the profile thingy, and of course it's just this needlessly complicated interface where I can individually enter each and every piece of information that I just provided in my resume--no more, no less. The theater has exactly two locations and is kind of a niche operation and it is absolutely crazy to me that they think they need to pay for this extra layer of stupidly bloated and redundant "talent acquisition" processing when they're hiring for like two or three basic ass hourly roles where half the question is going to be "have you done this normal shit before" and half will be "can we stand your personality". Nobody needs this garbage at all, least of all ME.
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i'm just gonna ramble in your asks abt my ideal website real quick
i consider myself to be an anti, and i personally would LOVE to just have a separate little forum website i could post on. i would love to never have to see shit i didn't sign up for in my little tags, i would love to post my little art pieces and talk to other people about my things and not have to check every single person who follows me or regularly interacts with my blog. i would love to never find loli porn on my "friend's" page and never be able to look at them the same. i would love to just. have a vetted, moderated, separate corner of the internet i could use instead of major social media platforms.
but that really doesn't exist anymore. i've tried to find forums or even discord servers (i really hate discord tbh, but to have a community like this? i'd cave) and there genuinely isn't anything. i've looked with such specific search terms that google made me complete a captcha because of suspicious activity from my PC. it doesn't exist. there is no curated space specifically for antis on the modern internet.
people say "oh, if you don't like XYZ just go somewhere else," but that isn't a real solution because that somewhere else isn't a real place. i WANT to go somewhere else. if i didn't have to in order to have any kind of a community at all, i would not be on tumblr.
i want old internet forum sites. i want the times when people just posted on different sites for different ships. i want to have to actively search out content i don't like instead of having to navigate around it. also? tumblr's tag-blocking system? sucks. i scroll through a tag for one of the characters i like who i happen to hc as ace, so i blocked all their ship tags. problem is this character gets shipped with anyone with a pulse. 99% of it is "this post contains filtered tags" instead of just.. hiding the post altogether. the other 1% is people who didn't tag their shit. it's borderline unusable sometimes. i just wanna see things i like and not see things i don't man is that too much to ask for
No that's completely fair.
There's some stuff I've seen on here that personally I get super icked over. And there's some stuff on here that I just straight up don't want to see. And it sucks that Tumblr would rather give you a message and the world's most enticing button instead of, yknow, take it away entirely. I endorse curating your own experience...I wish Tumblr made it easier to do that.
What you could do, though, is use a free builder like wix or whatever, create a forum. You can even run them for free on some hosts. It would likely be a slow, annoying process to build, but I do believe that if you have the willingness to create something, it will somehow end up there. Give it a stab, mayhaps. Set rules, invite likeminded folk. Attach it to a blog run on the same host, even, to post your own thoughts and creations on.
Create your safespace. You're almost always entitled to unless creating your space involves destroying others. And creating your own forum and blog is the best way to create that space while not stepping on anyone's toes.
#anti stance#proshippers against censorship#jackal barks#proship please interact#proship positivity#proship#proshipping#proshipper#proshippers please interact#proshipper safe#anti anti#ask#asks
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