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sentienceisoverrated · 2 years

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I don’t know if this has been done before but here we go:

The batfamily and instruments:

Alfred:

Not gonna lie he’s probably talented in every instrument imaginable. But, I can imagine him playing a clarinet or a piccolo.

Bruce:

Was likely taught the piano before his parents died. He got pretty good at it, but rarely plays anymore, and only when he thinks no one is looking.

Dick:

I can imagine a saxophone or a trumpet. Or a kazoo. Plays at the most inappropriate of times just to annoy people.

Jason:

Also a saxophone, but can play the drums as well. He’s probably tried out every instrument in Bruce’s arsenal though, and you can decide how good he is at any of those.

Tim:

He probably didn’t have much interest in interments growing up. Likely still doesn’t. One of his nannies used to play guitare so it’s sentimental for him to hear it. If he wanted, he could learn any instrument.

Cass:

Never had the opportunity to learn before she was adopted by Bruce. But afterwards, she tried out every instrument she could find and finally settled on a violin. Bruce paid for her lessons, of course, and opted to pay for any others she wanted. Cass still adores her violin.

Damian:

I can’t decide whether or not Damian learnt to play any instruments before living with Bruce, but he definitely learnt the piano at some point. He doesn’t often play in front of others, but everyone in the family loves it when he does. He’s amazing at it.

Duke:

I don’t know much about Duke’s character, but I can imagine he’d be good at brass or woodwind instruments. In order to get close to Alfred, he asked for clarinet lessons, and he really enjoys them.

Stephanie:

She’s good at the drums and bass. She plays with Jason sometimes and has proposed making a band with him, Dick and Damian, but still has to convince Damian to join in. Bruce pretends he doesn’t know about this just so they can continue to practice in the music room.

Barbara:

Can definitely play the guitar. Taught herself and plays it much more now than she did before to de-stress. Learnt to sing as she plays. No one apart from Dick knows about this and she has blackmail on him to make sure he never tells. He’s still considering just so she can be a part of their band.

Kate:

She learnt piano as well. Her and her sister used to play accompaniment pieces together and playing now reminds her of her. So she doesn’t play much anymore. She did, however, learn the guitar after she returned to Gotham and has never told anyone ever. Except her dad.

(Uhh okay so I forgot voice was an instrument until Barbara’s so here’s a list of those who can also sing:

Dick. Of course. Does it agonisingly often but is actually good so no one can complain.

Tim is bad at singing. But does it anyways when he thinks no one can hear him. This happens often on cases when he forgets his comm is on.

Cass took singing lessons when she was learning how to use her voice again. She’s still not the best, and can’t sing without a song in the background, but everyone loves it when she does.

Steph can also sing and is not afraid to show it. Does it all the time everywhere and remembers song lyrics like the back of her hand

Jason can but he won’t.

Duke could if he really tried.

And that’s all I have)

If I’ve forgotten any other bats I apologise. I haven’t added Harper because I know next to nothing about her character.

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batmanshole · 11 months

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sometimes i forget i named my cane "kate cane" and then i remember and im like holy fuck i am so funny.

#kate cane like kate kane from batman... do you get it.

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ylfva-remade · 2 years

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guys my new walking cane is named Kate Cane. like Kate Kane. batwoman. i named my mobility aid after a batman character.

#kate cane tag

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incorrectbatfam · 4 months

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What are the batfams favorite holiday traditions? (Wrong Answers Only)

Dick: turning the pool into an ice rink

Jason: sending Lex Luthor a gift-wrapped glitter bomb

Tim: dreidel Beyblade tournament

Damian: sharpened candy cane sword fight

Duke: blindfolded ski race

Cullen: building snowbats

Stephanie: decorating the tree with a new theme each year

Cassandra: family horror movie marathon

Barbara: caroling but the lyrics are changed to fit Gotham

Harper: hunting for Krampus

Carrie: recreating Buddy the Elf's candy spaghetti

Kate: the Justice League holiday potluck

Helena: snowball battle royale

Luke: ice sculpting competition

Bette: the giant family latke (singular)

Alfred: his custom-made Alf on the Shelf doll

Selina: kittens in sweaters photoshoot

Bruce: mailing cards to his favorite Rogues

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babi-and-bubby-nursery · 5 months

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𑁯ᰍ Christmas agere questions !!

Below are questions you are free to ask! Just click the "mail time" button and ask away! Be sure to include your anon tag (if asking anonymously) and We will happily answer! ⁺　　○ 　 . 　 ⁺　　✦　　⁺ 　 . 　 ✦ ꒰ 🌨️ ꒱ Would you rather receive 20 small gifts, or 1 giant gift? ꒰ ❄️ ꒱ What's your favorite Christmas song? ꒰ ⛄ ꒱ Hot chocolate or eggnog? ꒰ 🧣 ꒱ Would you rather spend Christmas in the snow, or on a beach? ꒰ 🧤 ꒱ What's your favorite holiday tradition? ꒰ 🕯️ ꒱ White lights, or colorful lights? ꒰ 🎄 ꒱ Would you rather be Kevin from Home Alone or Kate from The Christmas Chronicles ꒰ ⭐ ꒱ Favorite gift you've ever been given? ꒰ 🎁 ꒱ Build a snowman or have a snowball fight? ꒰ 🎅🏻 ꒱ Do you believe in Santa? What are your thoughts on him ꒰ 🛷 ꒱ Would you rather be a Christmas toy tester or a Christmas food taster? ꒰ 🦌 ꒱ Is there a special tradition you partake in on Christmas eve? ꒰ 🫎 ꒱ Christmas play or Christmas carolling? ꒰ 🥛 ꒱ Would you rather wrap 100 presents or sign 100 cards? ꒰ 🍪 ꒱ Do you decorate? What's your favorite part of decorating? ꒰ ⛸️ ꒱ Fuzzy blankets or fuzzy socks? ꒰ 🎀 ꒱ Would you rather ride Santa's sleigh or ride The Polar Express? ꒰ 🧸 ꒱ Do you get a real, or fake Christmas tree? ꒰ 🚂 ꒱ Cocoa plain or with whipped cream/Marshmallows? ꒰ 🔔 ꒱ Would you rather play holiday games, or watch holiday movies? ꒰ 🌲 ꒱ What's your favorite Christmas movie? ꒰ ✨ ꒱ Rudolph or Frosty the snowman? ꒰ 📖 ꒱ Would you rather have a village of elves at your disposal or go Christmas shopping with an unlimited budget? ꒰ ☃️ ꒱ Do you dress in any holiday outfits or have any holiday stuffie's that you dress for the holidays? ꒰ 🥕 ꒱ Candy canes or peppermints? ꒰ 🍼 ꒱ Would you rather lose your voice for the holidays or only be able to speak in Christmas carols?

⁺　　○ 　 . 　 ⁺　　✦　　⁺ 　 . 　 ✦

Do not rewrite and post as your own

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ageofevermore · 5 months

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BRIGHTER THEN CHRISTMAS LIGHTS

SUMMARY — you’ve been with kate for years, but on your first christmas in your new apartment, she decides to make you hers forever

The room smelt like pine and peppermint, you could thank the six foot tree in the corner, decorated with candy canes and assorted purple ornaments for that. As the morning sun bled into your quiet bedroom, painting the walls and everything else it touched golden, your heart fluttered in your belly at the simplicity of this moment you earned. After months of endless battles, there was finally peace to be enjoyed, and you would milk every second of it while it lasted.

Kate was flush against the bedsheets, satin pillow on the floor and heavy blankets tangled at her hips like she’d kicked them off in the middle of the night. She was always a quiet sleeper, but with her face pressed into the bed, soft snores escaped her parted lips. Her cheeks were flush, tinted pink, an accent to the all purple room she adored. Her deep brown hair that was almost the color of a raven sat twisted into a single braid in the middle of her head, frizzy at the roots as a result of restless rustling all night. Her plaid purple pajama top had ridden up in her sleep, exposing the softest parts of her hips and belly. You sat in the quiet for a while, admiring her even breaths and innocent face, wishing every morning could be this easy.

Just last week, you’d spent your nights alone while she fought alongside Clint somewhere in Brooklyn. When she did finally come home, she was sore and not nearly herself, not that you could blame her, but you were finally back in a routine, and your favorite holiday awaited you downstairs in full swing. If there was one thing Kate was known for within your small community of friends, it was her full-out commitment to decorating that could rival her high energy personality. Your bedroom was full of purple accents, from the blankets on the bed to the little trinkets she collects on the shelves, the apartment was a different theme in every room, not a single space left unfinished. You had assumed she’d go the generic Christmas route, not holding your expectations too high knowing how busy this time of year got for her, but you’d been severely wrong. So perfectly she found decor that matched every theme, and so proudly she’d put up a Christmas tree in every room that would surely have the place smelling like pine for months to come. It so perfectly fit who she was at her core, and the day it all came down would break your heart.

The ornaments on the tree reflected purple shadows against the wall, the candy canes were sweet and the pine was light, the sun warm against your skin that felt flush just watching her breathe. She looked so peaceful, you couldn’t even think about rousing her from that state, content with the silence around you and the heavy snow that fell outside of your window. It was a perfect snowglobe moment that you had waited days to have.

You lean back against the headboard, letting the cold flush wash over your warm body. Reaching a hand out tenderly, you caress the side of Kate’s face, pink cheeks warm to the touch but nothing out of the ordinary for her, always running hot when in the deepest depths of her slumber. You wondered what she dreamed about, but much to your dismay, she always woke without a single memory, only a smile on her cherry lips and wonder in her icy eyes. She wore your most favorite shade of blue so easily, everything about her was captivating, even in this moment. You didn’t mean to wake her, but the ticklish sensation that spread through her face was what brought her back down to earth, her eyes squinting before she stretched her entire body out like a clumsy puppy, smiling up at you with closed eyes.

“G’morning.” She rasped, snuggling deeper into the bedsheets, using her folded arms as a pillow once she realized that hers had fallen sometime during the night. You laughed quietly at her gravely morning voice and sleep slurred words, trailing your gentle fingers down the side of her neck and over her exposed shoulders. The tank top she slept in fit tightly to her muscular build, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t the hottest thing you’d seen in a while. She’d been frolicking around in your biggest sweater, hiding her perfect body from you, but it was all yours to oogle now, and you did so selfishly.

“Good Morning, baby.” Your hand slipped beneath her purple plaid tank top, nails scratching along her skin gently. She hummed in pleasure, wiggling closer to you until her head fell onto your soft thighs, her braided hair tickling the skin of your arm.

“Merry Christmas.” She smiled sleepily, finally peeling her blue eyes open to find yours in the sunlit room. You would never know how you got so lucky to have her, to call her yours and to spend every moment at her side knowing so many people wanted her for themselves, but you would thank your lucky stars until the end of time.

“Merry Christmas, Kates.” You chuckled lightly, letting your lips brush against the palm of her hand as it came up to rest on your cheek. “You slept well, if the pillow on the floor is any indication.” You giggled, belly jostling her head much to her displeasure. She grumbled mopily, digging her face further into your thighs like that was the answer to her problem.

“Always sleep well when you’re next to me.” She admitted in her delirium, unaware of how she melted your heart like a snowman in summer. Retracting her warm touch from your face in favor of rubbing out her tired eyes, she sat up straight once she felt the slightest bit of energy course through her body, finally starting to remember that today was the day she’d been counting down to since October. Her knees knocked yours, both sitting criss-crossed on the bed like kindergarten children, and with as much glee as you’d ever seen her wear, she reached for yours hands. “Merry Christmas!” She beamed brighter than a thousand ultra bright Christmas lights, perky and alert now as she really let this moment wash over her. It wasn’t the first Christmas you’d spent together as a couple, but it was the first year you’d woken up together tangled in bedsheets, in a place that you could call only your own. Clint’s little farmhouse had been home for a while, and while little kids made the holiday even sweeter, this was something new, something well deserved, and you were grateful for it everyday. Even if it lacked Lila jumping on your bed and Laura cooking waffles downstairs.

You giggled, leaning in close until your lips brushed together, fireworks exploding around the room when her lips reciprocated your movements. “Merry Christmas! Do you think Santa came?” You teased, cupping both of her cheeks in your hands and holding her close to your face, not ready to let her go just yet.

“I don't know. I think we have to check it out.” The presents had been slowly accumulating beneath the extravagant tree in the living room for weeks, both of you knew what awaited you once you descended down the stairs and made a sharp left, but that didn’t squander your joy as you raced out of bed and haphazardly shoved into each other just to say you got there first. Kate let you win, she always let you win, but it didn’t dampen your pride as you bounced around and kissed her face in a teasing celebration. “Santa came!”

“And his name is Katherine Bishop.” Your girlfriend jutted out her chest goofily, scratching at an imaginary white beard. You shook your head in fondness, taking a seat in front of the tree and the color coded presents beneath it. Ironically, both of you had chosen purple wrapping paper, though hers was a few shades darker and matched the pajamas she wore with its checkered print. You had gone a separate route then the traditional Christmas print, buying as many rolls of Hawkeye themed paper you could find once you realized it existed and sported a cartoon version of her face. Kate had laughed so loudly the first time she’d seen it, you’d do anything to hear that sound again, and you weren’t disappointed. When you handed her the first box, her face contorted with happiness, and contagious belly laughs escaped her.

You opened your presents at the same time, neither one of you having enough patience to sit around and watch the other. It didn’t take long for the living room to become a disaster of ribbons and crumpled paper, but that would be a cleanup project for later. Right now, you were just enjoying the small things.

“Last present!” Kate declared, reaching deep behind the tree and pulling out a small box you hadn’t noticed before. She had hidden it well, not that you would’ve gone around and snooped, but you could appreciate her commitment to surprises, even if she was horrible at them, always wanting to loop you in and dissect everything that had happened.

“Gimmie!” You reached for the little box, beaming from ear to ear when she placed it in your waiting hands and watched you intensely. You thought nothing of it, tearing into the paper like a madwoman. The velvet box you found beneath was no different then the boxes you’d acquired throughout your years together. Kate loved getting you nice things, and most often that was in the form of diamond bracelets or pearl necklaces. You appreciated them every time, but nothing had led you to believe that this box was different. When you flipped the lip, eager to see what awaited you, and whether it would be a gorgeous new charm for your collection or an elegant diamond bracelet, your mouth hung open in shock and tears breached your gentle eyes.

You never wanted an elaborate proposal. You had always told Kate that. You weren’t elaborate people, you didn’t need the big speech and the thousands of dollars spent on photographers and videographers to know that she meant it, but somehow this little moment was even more perfect than you could’ve anticipated. Looking up at her and away from the breathtaking engagement ring, you couldn’t help the single tear that fell down your face.

“Kate?” Your voice trembled, coming out a breathy whisper as you watched her watch you. Her eyes were the deepest shade of blue you had ever seen, a nervous grin on her face as she looked between you and the navy blue velvet box. “Are you-”

“Will you marry me?” She asked shyly, nothing but admiration in her icy eyes.

Not knowing what to say and not trusting your voice, you nodded through tears as you let her take the box and reach for your left hand. The ring fit like a glove, shimmering on your finger like that was exactly where it belonged. And it was. Blubbering like a fish out of water, you attacked the woman in a bone crushing hug, only pulling away to trap her lips in a deep kiss that couldn’t even begin to explain every emotion you were feeling.

“Merry Christmas, fiance.” She giggled against you, and you couldn’t help but laugh with her as you pulled your hand up to admire the diamonds.

“Merry Christmas, fiance.”

#kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop fluff #kate bishop fic

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puppetmaster13u · 4 months

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So I am rotating the batfamily, but not like, civilian or vigilante. I am slowly rotating them all having a Malone-sona of sorts that is their in to organized crime.

Like you can't tell me people wouldn't start noticing this family that the bats, the literal cryptids and monsters of Gotham, don't even touch and lets continue to operate despite taking the older crime families apart.

And to Gotham that screams power.

Alfred = Albert “Old Al” Malone I wanna say that he doesn't go out as 'Old Al' often, but gives off Godfather sort of vibes. Usually sitting there with an old cane (that definitely has a sword, they're all dramatic like that lol) half in the dark with a cup of tea or other drink. He gets to stretch his acting skills and honestly the kids definitely had a say in the persona. Old Al is something they all made together and they have fun implying so much fun shit.

Kate = Mary “Madam” Malone She definitely gives off 'snap your spine over her knee if not for the fact it would get your blood all over her clothes' vibes. Stylized nails, hair up in fishtail braids or ponytails or whatever, looks like she could tear out ones throat and they'd thank her. It's a running gag that she's in finances, even if no one in the underbelly believes it.

Bruce = “Matches” Malone I mean, it's classic Matches (though most probably assume that Matches isn't his real name) who seems rather chill until someone breaks the rules. Gives off vibes that he doesn't usually get his own hands dirty but will do so to make a point, and enjoy doing it. He sometimes uses Matches to check in on places he can't as a shadowy cryptid, and it's not like the lower income areas would fully trust Brucie Wayne.

Barbara = Madison “Maddie” Malone Now let's be honest, Barbara enjoys messing with people, she enjoys knowing every little thing as Oracle, and she definitely does that as Maddie. The thing is, no one knows how she learns about things, other criminals search for a traitor, for a leak, for anything, and get nothing. Which is utterly terrifying. Because there has to be some sort of information network, there has to be. And somehow they're so good that they're indistinguishable to any others.

Dick = Micheal “Mikey” Malone Honestly Dick uses this chance to get into a bunch of fights just for fun. Flirts a bit more freely but doesn't really have an interest in actually getting with someone. Just has funs and is known for throwing his own parties that usually end in free-for-all brawls. He absolutely loves being able to have parties that are the opposite of galas he's usually dragged into.

Cass = Molly Malone She's quiet and graceful, but she takes it to unnerving levels as Molly. Looks slim but carries guns on her at all time to better differentiate between Cassandra Wayne, Black Bat, and Molly Malone. Everyone knows if you need a weapon, guns, meelee, whatever, she's the one you go to. Gotham help you if you cross her though.

Jason = Peter “Petey” Malone Where Molly Malone goes, everyone knows Petey will be there as well. Jason absolutely adores the time he gets to do so, it's his turn to be silent and dramatic. Everyone can recognize the jagged scar over his neck, they can recognize it from corpses the Bats have gotten their talons on. Honestly he's delighted in being able to be Cass' enforcer of sorts and just have a good fight. Even if he complains about how making his Malone mute makes it where he can't quote Shakespeare like he wants to.

Steph = “Mia” Malone Ah yes, the explosive Malone. The one who has more arson charges than Firefly. Or at least she would if she was caught, but the entire Underbelly knows it was her. Steph is living her best life being able to pull all sorts of pranks and crazy shit and takes several ideas from Harley. Honestly she probably smells like gasoline or smoke all the time, and definitely put glitter in her hair. Maybe even has red hair as a Malone as well.

Tim = Alvin “Al” Malone He still goes by Alvin Draper too, which results in half the underbelly thinking that Draper is his middle name. Honestly he's having the best time, everyone knows to come to him for forgeries and less than legal identities, which he loves to create. I mean just look at how many new identities he creates for himself alone. He enjoys this type of thing, and hey, it's so easy to keep track of whose identity is fake when you're the one who made them. Plus it also lets him do good for those on the run for good reasons, a way to make sure people are safe.

Duke = Dennis “Denny” Malone Everyone knows Denny was adopted, but y'know what, I bet they don't care. And you know Duke is utterly insane, like jump off a bridge to escape the cops and create the We are Robin gang insane. And he gets to play that up as Denny. He will put forth the most batshit ideas and actually pull them off. I bet he uses his future-sight to cheat at different games and pool tables and all sorts of things, but no one can ever prove it. Because there is no proof, and the other people playing just has to deal with it.

Damian = “Mini M” Malone The little baby of the family, who everyone knows the older Malones absolutely dote over. This is his chance to act like an actual child, just with a hint of art theft. Hey, it wasn't like they got it legally either, so it's free game, especially if they weren't taking proper care of the art or a pet. He's just pleased to get to have even more pets, and that Goliath his demon dragon-bat gets to go on walkies.

Jarro = Jadan “Lil J” Malone Now Jarro is delighted to have a third mech, and is even more delighted for people to believe Damian (or technically M jr) and him are twins. Gives off someone is going to die- of fun with Mini M, and honestly enjoys being able to use his natural telepathy to be a small horror movie child that knows too much. Like will stare up at someone with wide eyes covered in blood and the others in Gotham's underbelly still aren't sure if the blood was his or someone elses. (it was neither)

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Honestly I might write a oneshot or something for the Cryptid Batfam focusing on just them as the Malones family.

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 5 months

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GRAY GROUSE (XIV)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XV ||

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 3.2K

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, angst, mentions of guns & weapons, gore mentions, talks about shootings, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your mind isn’t itself as you hear every clink of your cane hitting the floor. It echoes inside the cage of your skull—amplified like not even a brain sits there with its pulsing flesh.��

You can hear every one of your broken footsteps taking you farther away from him.

“When you get in there…” Laswell’s words blur heavily.

Gaz was leaving. He was leaving now. The Brit was walking out onto the tarmac—entering the metal of a cargo hold before he settled down for the long flight to Russia. Joining back up with his Task Force. So why was a part of you still trying to make your feet turn around to follow?

Joey lowe.

The name snaps you out of your brooding thoughts—your shaky fingers as they strangle your cane.

“...Be watching the entire time.” Kate sighs under her breath, and from the corner of her eye, she glances at you. “You don’t have to worry about the possibility of him attacking you. He’s fully restrained to his chair.”

“I’m not worried,” you mutter. “Let’s just get this over with already.”

The woman’s stare narrows, glancing behind even if she knows that the Sergeant wouldn’t be sneaking after you. That wasn’t how Kyle was. But still…a part of her looked.

“I couldn’t agree more. Follow me.” Kate pulls ahead and guides you along.

Staring at the back of her head, you fight the sharp sting behind your eyes, but even you can’t force a knife out of your skin and expect it not to hurt.

When Laswell hears a stubbornly inhale, she doesn’t even mention it.

The walk isn’t long, and while the bullet wound on your thigh pulls, you welcome it as a distraction. Your other hand had slipped into your pocket, reaching for your coin, but when it had brushed the picture that you’d folded inside, that almost kiss flashing through your consciousness, it nearly left you bending over yourself.

A door appeared ahead of you, your pulse as loud as a roaring lion.

“Remember,” Kate moves her keycard from her lanyard. A firm glance. “We’ll have eyes on the entire time.”

Like a phantom, you enter the unlocked barrier just as it beeps.

Joey is just how you remember him—except now he was minus the bulletproof vest and the gun in his hands. Perhaps you’d just become used to all of this because the memory slips off of you like water to a metal surface; it doesn’t matter. There were only so many things that you could tear at your mind about at one given moment.

Gaz seems to take precedence, and you have a deadly knowledge as to why.

Lowe’s eyes move up as you slip inside, letting the door close behind you with a definitive lock. It’s a classic interrogation room—like the one you’d been brought to when all of this started. Sitting in a metal chair, the man that had been sent to kill you was reduced to a flushed mess of tanned skin and a bruised, bald, head. The sunglasses were gone, just as the lower face covering. Now, all that you saw was the round face directed right into yours.

“You,” Joey snarls, hands yanking at the handcuffs that leave him restrained to the table. Your eyes slip to his middle. The padding of bandages was thick—just like the ones on your thigh.

“You shot me,” you blankly comment, feet moving closer.

Like a droplet of blood hitting the floor, your heartbeat echoed through the tingle of your nerves; raced up and down your spine.

Answers.

You were done playing all of these pieces in someone else's game. The videos on your father’s laptop, every lead stopping at a brick wall just when the reveal was at the tip of your tongue—it was ending.

“Should’a done more than that, Brat,” Lowe snaps, hands swelling with blood.

“Careful,” you numbly glance upwards. Locking your eyes with his for but a moment. “You’ll break skin.”

“I don’t give a shit!” Lips flickering, you grasp the second chair’s back, peeling it out with a huff and delicately placing yourself down until you can sigh out the tension.

But the man’s words are more layered than he’d like to admit—you picked up on it instantly. Fear. You knew because, in every instance along the long line of this story, your own sentences had been dripping with it; that undertone like a sharp knife. It was bleeding from his heart.

“Alright,” you mutter under your breath, glancing at the large wall of one-way glass to your left. You can’t see anything, but you know people are back there. Waiting. Your head swivels back. “Then why are you shaking?”

Joey’s eyes burn you one glare at a time. The man only stops when he grunts in pain, midsection bending in as his throat clears quickly.

How quick you’d gone from the one in the very same situation as him, to the one holding the gun. It was almost poetic.

Again your mind slips into images of Gaz’s brown eyes, a longing growing the more you can’t look over your shoulder and find him waiting for you. You nearly do just that—turn around. Head half-turned until it hits you like a strike of lightning.

Your father’s journal sits heavy, hidden in your coat.

“I don’t expect you to tell me anything worth my time,” Joey looks up at your words, face tight with aggression. “But I want you to listen.”

You let that pause linger, and the hired gun is about to yell at you again before you do the best thing you can: lie.

“We have the laptop,” you shrug, licking your lips as your thighs move over the chair to re-settle. A spark of heat moves through your wound. “And we also know who hired you and Samson. Nothing you tell me will be worth my time,” you tilt your head, “because we already know it all. The game’s over.”

“That’s bullshit,” Joey laughs. “You expect me to believe that? I had a deal in place—nothing’ll break it ‘cept my damn death.”

“We struck a new one,” you utter, and suddenly his eyes aren’t hard to look into at all. A bout of courage overtakes the raging waters of your hope that Kyle will come through the door and back you up on this.

But he won’t.

“You,” Lowe looks increasingly more panicked. “You’re lyin’. The fucking government would never take up a deal with Chiyou.”

Your eyes take on a sharp hue, honing in. The entire air goes tight with eagerness.

“It’s the government,” is all you dryly state, trying not to sound so excited.

Joey’s eyes dart to the one-way slashing around frantically. His pulling at the cuffs gets harder, and the blood that falls only moments later makes you stare. If it were someone else, maybe you would have cared.

“Now’s the time to clear your name,” you continue, motioning a hand as your other plays with the material of your cane. A flicker of something moves along your face—mimicking his very words from when the barrel of a gun was pressed into the back of your head. “You should be thanking me…”

“I’m not—”

“Tell me about Samson,” you interrupt, eyes stuck on him. Anger begins to overtake you—building. Your body leans forward in the chair stiffly. “Tell me about how he wasn’t strong enough to get the job done.”

“If you already know, why are you asking?!” Blinking, you send a glance up and down Joey’s body. He was shaking in pain, and you had no doubt that his stitches were pulling. No one had come in from the other room to tell you to stop.

And you were always so stubborn, anyway.

“I think we’re done,” you shrug. “I was right—you can’t tell me anything.” Standing, you move as if a walking bone to a chained dog, slinking through gore and blood until you’re already to the door. Feet slow and steady, you raise your knuckles to knock. Like clockwork, a thunk of the lock lets your hand shift to the handle, grasping it and adding pressure to—

“Wait!” You push open the door, head sticking out only enough for Kate’s stiff-eyed form to show from the room a foot away. She has herself half in and half out of the frame, watching you closely.

Raising a slow brow at her, your body pivots back and disappears once more.

Perhaps this was so easy because Lowe was retrained. If he hadn’t been, things could be wildly different. Gaz would have told you that even if he was cuffed, this was still not your job. You shouldn’t have to do this.

The door behind you closes once more.

Staying on your two feet, you tap your fingers against your cane and incline your head. “You have the floor, Joey.”

“You’ve just signed my death warrant,” he barks, eyes still unable to stay still. “You don’t know what you’ve done. I need a deal—I-I need witness protection.”

“Talk,” you hiss. Impatient nature rearing its head, you glare tightly.

Kyle must be on the C-17 by now—maybe it was even taking off as you were having this conversation. Why did you feel so anxious about it? Why were your feet still wanting to turn even when you were on the cusp of blowing this wide open?

He can’t really mean this much to you…can he?

“Samson was too good of a guy to get stuck in this, dammit!” Dark eyes lock with yours, and you frown. “All the decent ones are already dead, and it’s your fuckin’ fault.”

“I’m failing to see how I’m supposed to care at this point,” you dryly spit out.

Joey’s head shakes back and forth, bald head shiny in the overhead light. “Yeah, I’m not that surprised, Sweetheart. Samson let you live, but, hell, I’d have put a bullet in you a thousand times before I did that to your father.”

Your spine tightens up. Lowe keeps talking as your heart stops beating.

“Fuckin’ fool,” Joey’s jaw clenches, his wide face bright with rage. “He should have just gone through with the orders—it would have been quick; he would have been alive to see his girls grow up.”

You partially open your lips but stop yourself quickly. He has to keep going.

“I knew he was too damn righteous for that; knew he wouldn’t kill you like he was supposed to. Damn idiot went and shot the fucking husband instead. God. Served with him and everything—I know that bastard didn’t kill himself.”

Wide-eyed, your thigh throbs as your entire body seizes up.

Joey tries to stand, growling and yelling becoming increasingly more violent; and still, that fear stays in his eyes—deep into his soul.

“You’re ex-military,” you whisper under your breath. Louder, “Tell me what you know about Chiyou,” you snap. “Who is it?”

“This is your fault!” He shouts, and the table jerks against the bolts holding it to the floor. You flinch, taking a small step backward as your face blankly of all else besides thinly veiled fear. “You’ve got your hands all in it! It’s you!”

Alarms blare over the speakers with the sharp screech of dying dragons.

Gasping, your head snaps to the one-way in shock—the lights flickering overhead as you blink quickly, confusion making your heart speed. The sound is so sharp your free hand has to physically snap to the side of your head to cover one of your ears—mouth releasing a fast yell.

Your back shifts to slap into the door, and with a quick hand, you reach for the handle. Yet, it opens before you can even touch it; fingers grapple for your clothes as you’re peeled out.

Joey screams above the alarm.

“Don’t leave me here! Don’t! It’s what they want—!” The door slams as Kate bullies you down the hallway quickly. Soldiers rush past.

In her hand, she holds the body of a small pistol.

“What the hell is going on,” your voice is smoother than you thought it would be, but nonetheless firm. You hurry along as fast as you’re able, adrenaline taking most of the intense pains and stacking them away for now. Namely, the one in your heart. There’s no time to think over what you’d just uncovered about this plot—no time to act on it.

“I’m getting you to a secure area,” Kate levels, not fully answering you.

“And are you going to explain on the way, or…?” You trail off, eyes digging into her and voice loud above the noise. A man rushing past clips your shoulder, and you stumble before your cane stops your fall. Laswell’s grip gets harder.

“Your mother was attacked in the medical ward. We don’t know who did it,” the woman explains in a swift breath.

Your face blanks, snapping over to her even as countless other people nearly run into you. Shouts and yells spring up—guns carried in hard grips as the sounds of boots connecting with the floor make you beg to hear more familiar ones.

But an instinctual glance behind you leaves nothing but electric air and millions of bodies of people you don’t know. You have to admit, that makes you more scared than anything that was revealed previously.

“Is,” you stutter, head jerking back to Kate. “Is she okay?! What happened, she was supposed to be safe here!”

“You need to focus on yourself,” is the harsh and blunt answer. Blue eyes grace yours, sharp as you’re taken down the next hallway on fast feet.

“How many times am I going to be told that before you people realize it’s not going to happen?” You shout, but it’s lost to the blaring, insistent, noise that makes your head ache the longer you’re out here—stuck in the bright lights and the screams.

It reminds you of the park.

Shoved into a side room, you’re released to stumble for a moment as Kate jerks the door closed with a rattling frame.

“It is going to happen,” she looks at you, hand low at her hip as she motions to you. “Kyle isn’t here anymore to watch you. Until this is over, you have to rely on your own skills to keep you safe.”

You narrow your eyes in disbelief, a sneer coming to your lips. Your body steadies itself as your breaths come quick.

“Isn’t that literally someone else's job? I’m sorry to tell you this, Laswell,” you growl, moving closer, “but I don’t know how to deal with hitmen!”

You’re given an unimpressed look before Kate shakes her head and frowns at you.

“You’re smart—Kyle saw that. But you make stupid decisions.” You move your hand out in a hostile gesture, teeth snapping like a dog. “You need to think, Spitfire. The pieces are all laid out, you know the answer to this.”

Confusion now overtakes that feral panic.

“What are you talking about?” Kate moves to you, grabbing at your shoulder with her free hand. You glare into her eyes, blinking away after a minute of contact.

“No one can figure this out but you. You’re the catalyst. It starts and ends with you—Lowe gave you the last of it. There’s an answer here, and you’re not willing to see it.”

“Where’s my mother,” you bark in question, annoyed at this line of conflict. “You’re not making any sense.”

Kate takes a step back and stares heavily at your face. She licks her lips and says slowly, the words nearly lost to your ears above the alarms, “Too many men and women have died over this already. You know that.”

“What I know is that you’re making my head explode!” You shout. “You’re going on and on about this—what about you?! You and your little Task Force that doesn’t even know the people they work with!” Your mouth moves in a laugh. “You send off the one person who I’m starting to trust, and then I find out Samson was meant to kill me.”

“We should be glad he didn’t,” Kate tilts her head. She’d gone too far in life to gain that sheen of guilt now. Her experiences were a long line of statistics and facts.

You were the target, now the question had shifted as to why. You had never been involved in any illegal activities with your father—there was never any evidence of that, and everyone knew it to be true.

One question leads to another, and another, and another.

You knew something. Something that you maybe didn’t even know yourself yet. But time is rapidly coming to a close.

“We should be glad I didn’t leak your fucking file onto the internet when I had the chance,” you point, teeth bared. “I’ve seen it—I know how you work. It’s goddamn disgusting the things you do.”

“I’m not discussing this with you,” Laswell utters, frowning. “It’s my cross to bear.”

“Oh,” you laugh sarcastically, “so high and mighty. Kate Laswell—a martyr.”

Kyle seemed to have taken the key to your anger with him and left the door wide open. Your cruelty slipped through the frame to bleed its black blood over the hardwood floors like some possessed dog, dragging itself home time after time for only a faint memory of warmth. You were just so angry all of the time. Being here—around these people; these bases and the secrets.

Every ounce of you is bathed in wrath.

“Trust me,” you grin numbly. “My eyes are wide open.”

Blue stares into you, unblinking until the earpiece makes the woman move back and press her fingers up to it—to listen above the noise.

All she gives you is a firm and unemotional, “Are they?” Before her face turns away from you.

You clench your jaw and scoff, neck shifting as you tap your cane into the ground. The wound burns, but your free hand easily moves into your jacket pocket and presses into your coin—digging your palm into it. A distraction, maybe.

But all you can think about is how Gaz would be giving you that disappointed look and turning his head away. It makes you want to throw something.

His stupid hat; stupid voice. How he carries himself—how he felt so guilty about his part to play in this.

How he left.

He left you here.

With your mother, with Laswell. He regretted it, sure…and the worst part was that you’d entirely forgive him if he came through that door right now. For everything. But, God, please don’t make him leave you here alone after everything he’s done to make it right.

The realization makes your eyes water, a sting again forming. You wanted him here with you. You wanted his jokes and his smile—that smirk of his. Gaz’s stories about his trials and his achievements.

His history.

You could study all you wanted about that topic, but the section that was titled his own would always be the most interesting. He’d snuck in and grappled onto the place between your ribs; he’d stuck a knife into your heart and refused to peel it out—to let you bleed him away.

Damn him, damn him, damn him.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Kate’s face goes grim while you fight your own inner monologue. Her sentence rips you out of the bubble you’re stuck in.

“Lowe’s dead. Get ready, I’m moving you across base.”

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

Text

Porcelain Steve - Part 3

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

Eddie hasn't moved from his spot on the Harrington's living room floor since El placed Steve back in his hands two hours ago except to switch his weight from side to side, depending on which buttcheek is currently numb. The mass exodus from the Byers-Hopper house to the Harringtons had taken less than 15 minutes and there has not been peace since, hence the remaining-on-the-floorness of it all for Eddie.

People stop by his stop in the living room to talk to Steve, looming over Eddie in their uncertainty. He stopped offering for people to take Steve after the third rejection because Eddie gets it; he's still the most chill about this (except Argyle, but Argyle is currently high, and Eddie is exceptionally sober and perhaps resenting that fact a bit) but he gets it. The situation is fucking freaky and maybe the thought of holding their transformed babysitter slash older brother figure slash hero might be a bit harrowing.

Of course, there's always an exception, so when Max lowers herself to the living room floor next to him, cane set down between them, and says, "Give him here." Eddie obeys, instructing her to hold her hands out so he can place Steve in them upright and facing her. Max's bones had healed alright, but she'd never get her vision back.

"Am I looking at his face?" She asks, gripping him around the waist with two hands like he's a messy hamburger.

Eddie can't actually tell from this angle if she's looking at his face but it's got to be close enough, so he says, "Yeah."

"Hey Steve," Max starts. "Everyone else is too much of a wuss to hold you but don't worry. They'll get over it. Not going to lie to you, though, this is pretty weird, but, like, mostly because I expected your body to be squishy, like a stuffed toy or those babydolls Holly drags around and forces us to take care of when we all hang out at the Wheeler's house. You know, the ones that are like soft with the plastic head, hands, and feet? That's what I expected." She runs one thumb up and down on his torso before tacking on, "ugh, this feels like a polo. Eddie, is he wearing a polo?"

"Yeah. I think he's in the outfit he was wearing when whatever happened happened. The polo was tucked into his jeans but Robin untucked it to check if there were scars on his lil' porcelain tummy."

"Are there?"

"Yeah. Painted on, Robin says. It's pretty accurate."

"Like, chest hair and all?"

"I... don't know? You'll have to ask Robin. She was the one holding him like two inches from her face."

Max's attention goes back to Steve. "I bet your tiny polo looks cute, simply because it's tiny. Only way a polo could be cute, Steve. I still can't believe you dress this way because you like it. And worse, I can't believe you actually pull off the look."

Eddie looks on, amused, as Max rambles from there. Which is an experience. Max isn't quiet by any means, but she's not a talk to fill the silence type, which is what this seems like. The topics are mundane, like how summer school is going, and about her plans to try and teach El how to skateboard using only verbal directions, and debating the pros and cons of trying to convince her mom to let her get a seeing-eye dog. Then, they make a turn Eddie didn't expect.

"I think I'm going to be mostly on babysitting duty instead of active research and rescue. You know, on account of the blindness and all. So, like, I hope you're going be okay just hanging out with me and listening to Kate Bush for hours."

He should not be feeling a twist in his gut of jealousy at the fact Max wants to take Porcelain Steve from him, and yet. "You gonna look after him, Max?"

She shrugs, turns her face towards Eddie, "I figured we'd all take turns babysitting. Might get boring for him otherwise. He'd drop everything to watch us, if this had happened to us. He has done that. We have to do the same for him. Plus, Steve likes to check in on us, don't you Steve? What better way than to give you, like, a day with everyone in rotation."

"Always the savior, never the saved, huh?" Eddie is trying to joke but Max's face twists into a frown and her arms lower for the first time, lower so Steve's little porcelain face stares up at the ceiling.

"No. Not always."

"Oh?"

"I saved him, once. From Billy. It was my fault he was even in danger," Max says, voice sad.

"I doubt it was your fault-"

"It was my brother trying to beat him to death," Max snaps and it shuts Eddie up quick. "And the only reason he was in the house, beating Steve to death, was because I couldn't follow the simple instruction of 'stay away from the window'. Steve could probably have gotten Billy to leave if I had. But I didn't listen, and Billy got in, and then he was threatening Lucas. He'd said 'you're dead, Sinclair' and then Steve had to be super lame but super cool at the same time by saying 'no, you are' and decking Billy in the face with, like, the full force of his body."

"That is a very lame thing to say."

"Right? Anyway, he was winning that fight until Billy cracked him over the head with a plate. Then it just went downhill so fast for Steve, and I was so sure I was about to watch my stepbrother murder someone. I-I don't even know what came over me, really. I'd never stood up to Billy before. I just knew I had to do something. There were these syringes filled with something that put you to sleep and I grabbed it and then I stabbed Billy with one and then threatening him with Steve's nailbat to never touch any of my friends again."

"Holy shit, Red. Metal as hell!"

She gives a small smile at that. "Well, the boys were basically useless so." She gives a shrug that suggests that sentence should have ended with what can you do?

"True. I've seen you girls in action. Scary and deadly."

Max looks down, then, back to Steve. "Alright, Steve. This is enough floor time for me. I'll yack your ears off later."

She holds Steve back out to Eddie, and he returns Steve to the place in his lap. She gathers her cane and pulls herself from the floor, calling out to see where El is, then presumably going off to find her.

"You really do have a tit-for-tat thing going on with these kids, don't ya?" Eddie chuckles, falling back into the quiet.

His mind does go back to Max and her story. Saving Steve from Billy. He's heard that story but never that part. Steve had given him a watered-down version that left out the fact Billy had threatened Lucas, and that Max had come to his rescue. He wonders if Steve even knows that part.

Had they told him? In Steve's version he's getting his ass beat, and then he's coming to in the back of Billy's car with Max at the wheel. It seems out of character for Steve to not take the time to brag about the kids.

Given the events of spring break of last year, and Max's complicated feelings towards Billy, maybe Steve does know the full story and it was left out intentionally. A thing left up to Max to tell or not, to have to relive. She's been better, doesn't bottle up the hard things anymore, even though it's not Eddie she talks to.

It's Steve.

Eddie feels a bit worse about his jealousy earlier. Of course, Max wants to spend time with Steve even if he can't talk back. He's been the stable male figure in her life for years, just like he's been for Dustin.

He looks up, really taking in the people around him. All the people that have gathered because they care about Steve. All the kids, their peers, Joyce, and Hopper, and some guy Eddie's never even heard of before named Murray.

Does Steve even know how much he means to everyone here?

He's going to ask Steve just that but Robin shouts from the dining area at the same time he opens his mouth, so he snaps his jaw shut and focuses in on that.

"Absolutely not! Those assholes dealt with StarCourt by burning it to the ground and that's it! What do you think they'll try and do to Steve!?" Robin's back is to Eddie, so he can't see her face, but he can see Nancy's, who she seems to be yelling at. Nancy looks determined.

"I'm not saying we go asking the shady government for help immediately! I just brought it up as an option for if we hit a dead end, or can't figure this out, or-" Nancy argues back, and Robin cuts her off.

"Shut up! We'll figure it out! We have before."

Nancy's face softens, looks sadder. "I know, Robin. I do. But how long do we try ourselves? How many days, weeks, months, do we just keep trying ourselves while Steve is stuck? We don't even have a starting point for fixing this, the least we can do is plan a time to ask for help."

"Nancy's right," Hopper says, even if he sounds upsetting about admitting it out loud. "We can trust Owens at least. He helped us."

"No, I'm with Freckles there. You cannot trust anyone in the government, Jim. How many times do you need to learn that lesson?" Murray says in a condescending tone (though Eddie hasn't heard any other tone from him, so maybe that's just his voice?).

Eddie finally stands from the floor. This feels like an argument he should join.

#steddie #my fic #platonic stobin #steve & his found family #porcelain steve #leaving it here because the point of the story is not about how they go about solving this #the point is steve and his feelings and everyones feelings about him

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