#damian: *shocked pikachu face* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

butwhyduh · 3 years

Note

Since you wrote Christmas with tha Bois are you planning on writing a New Years Eve fics too 🎇🎉?

*insert surprised pikachu meme*

now I am (!!!)

They are all required to go to a Wayne gala that Bruce has thrown since before he took Dick in as a ward. It’s important. So of course, I wanna show what kind of suits they would wear too. (Indulge me lmao) [none of these images are sensitive. Tumblr is an idiot]

Tim

Okay I get that you wouldn’t think high strung proper Tim Drake Wayne , Mr CEO, would were a pretty casual suit. But he wears a suit everyday and by golly, he isn’t wearing a tie for New Years freakin Eve. It’s something different and he can relax. And he’s so tired of black. Plus the blue brings brings out the color in his eyes.

—————

He adjusted the collar of his suit. He always wore a nice suit to work. But this was for a gala. The tie just wouldn’t lay flat. You walked up behind him and pulled the offensive fabric off and tossed it on the bed. He moved to protest but you started unbuttoning his collar.

“Okay,” he said with a slow smirk. “But it’ll have to be quick.”

“I’m just fixing your shirt,” you said rolling your eyes. “I’m not messing my makeup up before a gala. That looks nicer. I never see you relaxed,” you said leaving your hands on his chest longer than necessary.

“I relax sometimes. I’m relaxing tonight. With you,” he said turning to give you a quick kiss. You smiled and he took a look at your outfit. “I’ll have to keep my eye peeled though. You’re going to attract a lot of attention in that.”

“Too bad I’m already dating a man they couldn’t possibly compete with. Come on, lover boy,” you said and he took your hand before going downstairs.

It was always stressful to first go to a gala. Tim was moderately famous as Bruce Wayne’s heir, heir to the Drake family fortune, and the acting CEO of Wayne Enterprise. Luckily this was very boring to most young people and his pictures were in a small section of the business page of the papers rather than like Dick Grayson being splashed all over the lifestyle section like a celebrity. But cameras flashing as you walked down stairs in heels was terrifying. Tim was the only one to notice as you gripped his arm like a vice each time.

You could usually smile and drink champagne as Tim talked shop with the old men he worked with or young men who were trying to climb the business ladder. Tim’s fingers made idle circles in your hand or on your back as he talked. He was also taking glances at you in you outfit all evening.

Only when he was desperate for a break would he ask you to dance. Tim was a good dancer. He had been taught at an early age. But he was not a natural and he didn’t want you bothered with more photos. You insisted after a full hour of talking about some sort of quarterly investment opportunity that he take you to the dance floor.

“Dance with me, Timmy,” you asked quietly in a lull in the conversation. It was almost midnight anyways. He smiled at you before looking back at the men.

“Excuse us,” Tim said before letting you lead him to the floor. He gently held your waist and you wrapped your arms around his neck. The song was fairly slow so you barely danced more than a sway. That was fine. You were more interested in staring in to his ocean eyes than cutting a rug.

“Sorry if it’s been incredibly boring,” Tim said. “You’d probably rather be doing anything else.”

“Dancing is nice. Seeing you more than 5 minutes is nice,” you said.

“Speaking of 5 minutes, it’s 5 minutes until midnight.”

“No more work talk tonight. Just be with me,” you pleaded softly. Tim frowned for a second before pulling you closer.

“I can do that. All yours tonight. I’ll just punch anyone who tries to talk business to me,” he said.

“Good enthusiasm. Terrible plan. Sweet though,” you said kissing his cheek. He smiled.

“Or we could just leave right after New Years,” Tim said with a wiggle of his brows. You giggled.

“Better plan.”

Bruce had gotten on the stage and the music stopped. You didn’t let Tim go. As they counted down to midnight, you and Tim gazed at each other.

3-2-1

🎆🎇

You leaned your face up and kissed him. Tim held your waist tighter and your wrapped your fingers up in his soft black hair. After just a few seconds you pulled back and smiled at him.

“Happy New Years, sunshine,” he said.

“Happy New Years, Duckie.”

“Let’s get out of here before they see us leave,” he suggested. The rest of the night was spent in his room and you were so glad for the loud fireworks to cover any noise you might have made.

Dick

Dick has been to 714 galas. He’s an expert. He’s expected to play the handsome charming eldest son. Wearing a beautiful suit is half the battle. Not to mention, he kinda likes showing off a little. It’s New Years. And the blue and grey bring out the color in his eyes so well.

———————————

Dick barely got in the door before flopping on the bed with his detective uniform still on. You sat on the edge of your bed, already in hair, dress, and makeup, and reached over to rub his shoulders. He groaned softly.

Barely off of work and already having to change into a suit for a family event. Dick needed a day off. Badly. He had the next 3 days off of work and he just had to deal with this night. No, he needed to be positive. You hadn’t done anything and he didn’t want to ruin New Years Eve.

You pushed your palm into a knot on his shoulder. He all but moaned. “Thank you, baby,” he said. “It’s these stupid cases. They have been driving me- baby,” Dick said turning to look and taking you in. “You look good.”

You smiled and giggled. “You think?”

“Always, but this? Wowza,” he said laughing. “Im going be showing off the prettiest girl at the ball,” Dick said sing song. You rolled your eyes with a grin. His compliments were usually over the top.

“Yeah, yeah. Not likely. You need to get dressed or I’m going to be very fancy for no reason,” you said and he hopped up. Dick was overworked but he always was. In record time he was dressed.

“Do you want to drive,” he asked hopefully. A quick 30 minute nap would be awesome.

“I can’t drive the Porsche since it’s stick,” you admitted.

“Well in that case, I’m teaching you soon. But not tonight. You gotta learn how to drive my car,” Dick said and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You added that to the list of skills he thought completely necessary that hardly anyone could do anymore. Could you even buy a new standard transmission car?

“Sure, hun. Let’s get going before we’re late,” you said kissing his cheek. You straightened his pocket square and you were both out the door.

“-and then you push the clutch. Right here,” he pointed at the floorboard as he drove.

“Not tonight. We can do this some other time. And if we don’t get there, it’s fine,” you said evasively.

“Ever? It’s important to be able to drive any kind of car and if it’s just you and the Porsche,” Dick said with a frown. You could see a contingency plan forming in his head.

“I very much doubt there will be a situation where I have to drive your car,” you said with a shrug.

“I’d rather plan for it,” Dick said and you dropped it. It was like a security blanket for him to plan for anything.

Walking into a gala was exciting and nerve racking. Dick was extremely popular back in Gotham and it was honestly weird as he was normal back in Bludhaven. Dick was the perfect gentleman and made sure you felt comfortable and safe when the cameras flashed. You smiled and ignored whatever anyone said about you. It could be mean with jealousy. You were with him for his money, you were just arm candy, and you weren’t that pretty. The first time had hurt pretty badly. Now you had a new ring on your hand and you felt almost as nervous as your first gala. One through the door to the ballroom, you relaxed.

“Are you okay? You looked really nervous,” Dick said and you grimaced. That sounds like nice pictures.

“Just a little,” you said subconsciously playing with your ring. Dick, of course, noticed right away.

“What’s wrong? Do you not want the ring? Or the engagement,” he asked quietly and it broke your heart that he was even worried about it. His big blue eyes were wide with worry.

“Not at all,” you said grabbing his shoulder. “I just don’t like how they talk. I’m very happy. And I love the ring. It’s beautiful.”

Dick’s frown turned to a pleased smile. “Good. Because that was my mom’s ring.”

“Dick! You gave me a family heirloom without mentioning it? That makes it twice as special,” you said shocked. “Thats so sweet of you.”

You leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “I love it. But if you give me something that important again without telling me, I’ll beat you,” you whispered in his ear and he laughed.

“Let’s dance,” Dick said. He pulled you to the dance floor. He was the best dancer out of all of the Wayne children and possibly better than Bruce. He had been dancing since he could walk. His parents were performers and taught him many dance styles. Bruce also insisted that all the children knowing all the common dances they would need to know at a gala.

Keeping up with Dick was the biggest issues with dancing. He could dance quick dances for hours and you had to remind him that not everyone spent hours a day training and fighting. At the moment you had insisted on stopping to get a drink. You practically pounded a water bottle while he sipped on some punch.

“Kinda floral. Not bad. Little sweet,” he said.

“It’s not alcoholic, is it?”

“I don’t think so. It’s just one glass,” Dick said. “I’ll be fine to drive later.”

“No. It’s just that Damian and his girlfriend have a cup each,” you said motioning over to them.

“It’s fine. They wouldn’t give them alcohol,” Dick said and you relaxed. Of course not. That would be crazy to give kids alcohol.

“Let’s sit down. My feet are getting a little tired,” you said with a wince. He nodded and you sat at a table by the dance floor. As if Dick had put out a sign, a bunch of people flocked over to talk to him.

Somehow a plate of small snacks ended up in front of you, probably Alfred. You ate a little while he played the philanthropist son of Bruce Wayne. It was actually really nice to be ignored.

Until it wasn’t.

An older Wayne investor brought a woman over as his ‘date.’ She instantly latched on to Dick and started flirting with him. Her hand kept touching his arms and shoulders. You were getting mad but this wasn’t a surprise. People acted like he was someone they could grope and touch without consequences.

Finally it was too much and you cleared your throat. She looked at you in disgust before going back to flirting with Dick.

“Can you give my fiancé some space,” you asked politely as you could. Her eyes raked over your body.

“He could do so much better than some poor trash like you in a second rate dress. Not even that ugly little ring could change that,” she said nastily. You gasped.

“Okay we’re leaving,” Dick said standing up. The woman had to back away from him. His jaw was clenched in controlled anger. He had a temper and this wasn’t the time to lose it.

You stood up and hissed as your shoes cut into your feet worse than when you had been wearing them all night. Great, you couldn’t even wear heels in front of her. She laughed. Dick simply picked you up bridal style and carried you out of the ballroom and upstairs to his old bedroom. He sat you on the bed gently.

You knew that she was just a vapid socialite but it did hurt. She had pretty accurately attacked your insecurities and you blinked to prevent yourself from crying.

“Baby,” Dick said bending to a crouch in front of you. “Don’t think anything about what she said. She’s just jealous. Not worth your time.”

“She’s not wrong though. I’m just a poor kid trying to fit in in Wayne freaking Manor,” you said wiping your face. Stupid tears.

“And I’m just a circus kid. Don’t forget that,” Dick said sitting beside you. He pulled you into a hug. “Not a single damn bit of that matters. It’s almost midnight in a minute. Do you want to go back downstairs?”

“Not a chance,” you said with a dry smile.

“I figure. We have a better view anyways,” he said opening the curtains. You could vaguely hear the noise downstairs.

3-2-1

🎆🎇

“Happy New Years, baby,” Dick said giving you a kiss. He wiped the tears from your cheek.

“Happy New Years. Sorry I’m all teary,” you said.

“Nope. Don’t be sorry. My new New Years resolution is to make you smile,” he said with a devious look. His fingers suddenly attacked your sides and pulled laughter from you. He pushed you to the bed in his attack.

“Dick! Okay! Quit!” You shrieked with laughter. He stopped his hands and leaned over you.

“Alright. I quit. But since we’re alone. Wanna ring in the New Years the right way,” he asked with a smirk. You grinned back.

“Got any ideas on how to do that?” You asked back.

“So many. Baby, so many,” before kissing you. Fireworks sounded in the background.

Damian

(Older 16 yr old) Damian is literally the son of Batman. He’s going to dress like it. Nice and formal and expensive. It was like a form of armor. Homeboy looks like a million bucks. His watch might be. And if a burgundy turtleneck A accents his well defined pecs, B shows the gold in his tan skin, and C the gorgeous green in his eyes, he ain’t complaining.

“Beloved,” Damian said pulling on his jacket. “Come out,” he said in a sing song voice that would have been completely foreign to hear to anyone else but you.

You flushed as you came out. His jaw dropped before he quickly straightened his face. He’d taken the risk of buying you a dress for the party. He’d seen Bruce do it for women all the time. It was practically his calling card. Even Dick had done it a few times. But this was a first for Damian.

“You look very nice. Beautiful,” he said quietly looking away at his cuff links. “Are you ready to go downstairs?”

“Just my shoes,” you said, trying to slip them on and almost falling over. Damian quickly grabbed your waist.

“I got you. I can put them on,” he said kneeling to the ground. He hadn’t meant anything besides efficiency with his offer. But as he slid your foot into a heel and strapped it across your ankle, it felt far more intimate. His hand held your calf a little longer than necessary before switching to the other foot. This side had a slit up to your thigh and he could see your bare leg up close. Damian gulped before attaching the shoe. He quickly stood up and cleared his throat.

“Are you ready now?”

You nodded. He offered his arm and you went downstairs. Cameras flashed for just a few minutes before Damian skillfully steered you away from them. His father would kill any pictures of you before they got to the papers but Damian knew how much you hated them.

“Dance with me?” You asked and he happily complied. He had been trained in several dance styles and was good at it. He also enjoyed the way you would smile when he would spin you. If it made his beloved happy, he was happy. It attracted a little attention. Bruce Wayne’s teenage son and his date could dance with skill. This too was only viewable in person.

“Let’s get a drink,” Damian said pulling you to the refreshments. You were out of breath but happy and followed him. There was suppose to be people handling the drinks but there were so many people. Damian pushed through and grabbed two drinks and handed one to you.

“Let’s find a table,” you said. As always, Damian pulled you along to a secluded corner close to the door to the garden. Cold air and little whiffs of cigarette smoke swirled around but at least you weren’t in the overheated body filled floor anymore.

You sat and drank at your punch. It was heavily sweetened and floral. It was refreshing and... warm. You waved at yourself.

“Is it hot in here to you?” You asked Damian.

“Want to go for a walk outside? It’s cooler out there,” he suggested. Damian took your arm again and you walked out the door into the garden. A stone path lined little beds of delicate plants. Topiaries lined the path. Small solar lights and the full moon lit the garden. There were a few people walking but not many.

Damian looked so handsome. Long dark lashes frames his bright green eyes. His skin almost glistened with silver light of the moon. He bent and plucked a flower from a bush. Damian tucked it behind you ear with a little smile.

“The prettiest rose in all the garden,” he said and you smiled shyly.

“I don’t think that’s actually a rose though,” you said and he laughed. A rare occurrence.

“It’s not. But I was talking about you. May I kiss you,” he said lightly touching the side of your neck with his hand. You nodded and he leaned down. You closed your eyes and his lips brushed against yours. You pressed a hand against his chest.

Damian’s hand slid to the back of your neck to hold you as he pressed harder against your mouth. His tongue slipped in your mouth and you made the softest whimpering sound. Damian’s eyes flew open and he almost froze. That was new and he could get used to the pretty sound.

You kissed like this for a little while. Damian’s hand slid down to hold your waist when he noticed you shivered. He pulled back.

“Beloved, are you cold,” he asked, cursing himself. Of course, you were cold wearing a thin dress while he was in a full suit. He quickly pulled off his jacket and put it around your shoulders.

“Just a little. It’s fine,” you protested. He insisted on sliding your arms in the sleeves and button the jacket.

“Let’s go in. It’s close to midnight anyways,” Damian said giving you one last kiss.

3-2-1

🎇🎆

“Happy New Years beloved,” he said with a kiss. Damian had grabbed another two glasses of punch and you two touched them in cheers.

“No sir,” Alfred said sternly, taking the glasses from your hands. “No alcohol for either of you. There is juice on the other side of the table.”

You waited until Alfred walked away before laughing. “They should have labeled that better.”

“That explains why it felt overly warm in here earlier,” Damian said thoughtfully.

The music had changed to overly sappy and people were kissing and dancing far too close. They were feeling the effects of the alcohol they had been drinking all night. Damian looked at them in disgust.

“Want to go upstairs,” he asked. You quickly looked at him. “Not like that. We can watch a movie or something, anything away from this.”

“Sounds great,” you said and you both left.

Jason

I’m fairly certain I’ve seen him in a suit like this in the comics. I considered him saying FU to Bruce and showing up in boots and black leather jacket. But Jason knows he looks good in red. And he’d probably get a kick out of wearing one of his suits he wore as Red Hood to a fucking gala. Bruce would know.

—————————

“Princess, if you make me wait any longer I’ll kick down the door and physically carry you to the damn party,” Jason said with no malice in his voice. You opened the bathroom door.

“Not all of us look good without a little work,” you said playfully tapping his chest. You yanked his tie straight with a little more force than needed.

“I’d have to disagree, doll. I’d honestly prefer you in nothing,” he said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes.

“How does it look?” You said with a twirl.

“Like a million bucks. That ass. Let’s skip the party and-“

“No no no. Let’s get going. You can be handsy later,” you said grabbing your purse.

“Promise,” he asked as you both left. The roads weren’t too bad with ice and in fact, it was going to be a rare dry night in Gotham.

Jason didn’t do pictures. He hated them and so you both parked in the servant entrance and walked in a side door. It didn’t matter. The Manor was beautiful no matter how you looked at it. And being a poor kid from Gotham, you couldn’t believe you were actually at a party in Wayne freaking Manor.

“Don’t be nervous. It’s just a bunch of shitty rich people in pretty walls. They aren’t any better than us. Hell, worth half of you, sweetheart. Let’s get a drink,” he said pulling you to the drink table. It was pretty packed but he muscled through to the front. He got your preferred drink. “And a whiskey on the rocks.”

“Don’t get drunk,” you whispered to him. “I won’t sleep with you drunk.”

“With a finger of water,” Jason added to the bartender who nodded.

“Good save,” you said turning to look at the floor. You sipped your drink and people watched.

Dick and his date were dancing some quick steps in the middle of the floor. No surprise there. Tim was talking to boring business men and his poor date looked absolutely bored on her feet. Alfred was watching Damian and his date from the corner of his eyes whereas Damian seemed completely oblivious with his eyes on her all night. And Bruce was currently heavily flirting with a woman who literally meowed at him. You resisted the urge to gag and turned back to Jason.

“Wanna dance,” Jason asked casually watching the floor. But you knew he wanted to dance because he asked.

“Yeah,” you said grabbing his hand. He pulled to to the floor. Jason was also trained to dance as all the Wayne boys had been. But he was probably the worst dancer out of all of them. His parents had never taught him anything as nice as dancing and he’d only lived with Bruce for a few years before the whole Joker thing. But Jason was a natural athlete and his dancing was still pretty darn good.

The dance was a bit slower than the one Dick and his date had been dancing to earlier. Jason held one hand on your waist and the other stayed in your hand. His dancing was visibly polite and innocent. The words he whispered in your ear were far from.

“Is it hard being the hottest woman here? This dress on your ass is fucking delicious,” he whispered and you flushed at his words. “I can’t wait to fuck you in it later.”

He really enjoyed saying things that were completely naughty in public where you could do nothing about it. But you knew that if he kept it up, you’d be finding a spare room before New Years even came. And you didn’t want to miss the fireworks again this year.

As the song ended, and you thoroughly turned on and scandalized, you asked him to walk in the garden with you. Lover boy needed something to cool him down.

“Sure, Princess,” he said snagging 2 glasses of punch on the way out. You both walked between the flower beds and he told you stories of things that had happened there. “And that’s when Dick accidentally cut the top foot off of this bush. Alfred had him scrubbing floors for a month,” Jason said with a laugh. “It was so bad that there is still a rule of no swords in the garden. Damian hates it.”

“I bet he does. But he could probably destroy the entire garden with a pocket knife,” you said with a laugh. Jason suddenly pulled you to the side with a hush. He motioned over a ways.

“Speaking of the kid, look over there,” Jason whispered. You looked over to see Damian making out with a girl his age. It was so weird to see him being so sweet. “I didn’t know he felt human emotion, much less find someone his age to makeout with.”

“They could have said that about you a few years ago,” you said slyly.

“Yeah, point taken. Want the best view of the fireworks?” Jason said.

“Where?”

“Top of the roof.”

You blanched at the idea. “No thanks. I choose life.”

“It’s safe. There’s a ladder and everything,” Jason said hugging you from behind. “Best view in the house. And if not, dinners on me.”

“Jay, you get the check every time,” you reminded him. He chuckled.

“Maybe I’m just trying to get a pretty girl alone to give her a kiss,” Jason said pulling you to the roof. You flushed. “Unlike demon boy making out in the garden. I have class.”

“You’re a classy lady. Show me the way before I change my mind,” you said. He took you to a ladder over the library. You pulled off your heels and started climbing.

“Don’t worry I’ll catch you you if you fall Princess. I’m right behind you. Did I mention your ass in this dress? I kinda have the perfect view,” he said. You rolled your eyes before throwing your leg over the side of the roof. Jason quickly followed you.

“Here, wear my jacket,” Jason said throwing the red blazer over your shoulder.

“Oo my knife now,” you said feeling in his pocket and pulling out a sizable switchblade.

“I forgot to take it out of there. I wouldn’t touch it too much,” Jason said taking it out of your hands with a grimace. You gave him a look.

“That’s incredibly gross. Seriously. Do I even want to know?”

“Not really. Look at the stars. You can see them through the shitty Gotham sky,” Jason said sitting on a box. He pulled you into his lap and you were grateful as it was really quite cold. You could see some stars and you leaned your back against his chest and looked up at the heavens for a few minutes.

The music stopped downstairs. It must be almost midnight. You couldn’t understand but you heard Bruce talk over a mic. Then everyone started counting.

3–2-1

🎇🎆

“Happy New Years, Jaybird,” you said turning your head and holding Jason’s jaw. You leaned your head up and gave him a kiss. He held you close and you made out until the sound of a firework had you jumping. You laughed before turning to look. The roof really did have the best view.

After a few minutes of watching the fireworks you heard some lewd noises. Jason looked over at a window near your spot.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said with a disgusted look. “That’s fucking Tim’s room and the sound of him getting laid is literally the last thing I want. What I do want is to take a bite out of that ass I’ve been looking at all night.”

411 notes · View notes

fyeahbatcat · 3 years

Note

BatCat has been unnecessarily broken up AGAIN, in the comics. After 80 years, most Batman writers are still hesitant to allow Catwoman fully into the Batfamily, alongside Batman. As if there has to be a protective shield for Batman, in order to keep Catwoman away. What do you think it'll take, for DC to remove the BatCat time limit? Allowing for Bruce & Selina to have a more sustained relationship. Is it all on Tom King? Do you think Matt Reeves can make an impact, with his iteration of BatCat?

I really struggled with whether or not I should answer this, because there’s no way for me to be completely honest and give you the answer you were probably looking for. In any case my answer is below the cut, but be warned if you’re looking for words of comfort and solace they will not be found there. I’m just going to be very frank in a way that some may not like.

DC Comics and Tom King told us exactly who they are on July 1, 2018. At this point I’m really not sure what else you were expecting. Yes; I fell for it at the time. I drank the Kool-Aid. But if I didn’t know better back then I sure as hell know better now. Believe what the evidence is telling you; not what you want to be true. What is evidence says it that they’ve become so morally and creatively bankrupt that they’ve resorted to outright lying to their fans and screwing over small businesses to sell comic books.

This is going to sound very harsh but now is the time to start developing a sense of self preservation. DC Comics is not going to change. It doesn’t matter how passionate, supportive, loyal, patient, or forgiving you are. Those things have no value to them beyond their sales margins. There’s no sense in hoping that something is going to come along and inspire them to have a change of heart. DC Comics is a greedy corporation: they have no heart.

What do I think it’ll take for DC to make a long-term commitment to the relationship? Complete financial desperation. I’m talking Marvel-Going-Bankrupt-Couldn’t-Afford-to-Buy-Paper-in-the-90s desperate. That or, to a much, much lesser degree, a complete overhaul in leadership, editorial, and organizational structure. Neither or which I think are going to happen. Not soon anyway.

You have two options here. Number One:

When you stop expecting anything from them and then you’ll stop being disappointed. I know people who are some how able to just roll with the punches, and take the good with the bad. If you want to just be able to enjoy reading comics as much as you can you’re going to have to become one of those people. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. There are bigger, far worse things happening in the world and if comics are your sense of calm in the storm and you’re able to manage your expectations, it’s worth it to continue reading. Just acknowledge that at this point we know what to expect from them and there’s no point in making a shocked Pikachu face every time they do exactly what they’ve been doing for the last 40 years.

Your other option is very simple: it’s time to divest from DC Comics completely. DC Comics is not going to change and they’re not going to eventually give you what you if you just hold out long enough. I had to learn this lesson the hard way, and I’m telling you this so you can make an informed decision on whether or not you want to spend the next ten years of your life being constantly let down like I did. They have no incentive to change. With that said, let me introduce you to what I call “DC Comics’ Cycle of Deception.”

This isn’t a fine science or anything but it usually looks a little something like this:

1. The Tease AKA “Fan-Baiting”

DC Comics/affiliates “announce” something that sounds new and exciting or game-changing by way of interviews, solicitations, events, social media posts, etc.

Examples:

“Catwoman will be the co-lead of Batman”

Lois Lane is the new Superwoman

Major character *death*

2. The Hype

DC begins to hype “new and exciting” event usually through increased variant covers, planned collector’s editions, tie-ins, merchandise. Sales/ pre-orders and fan engagement begin to increase. Creators engage in interviews with mainstream media outlets such as Entertainment Weekly

Examples:

Approx. 152,069 exclusive variant covers of Batman #50

Damian Wayne Requiem series

3. The Catch

When the time comes it is revealed that instead of delivering whatever new and exciting story was promised, DC Comics’ pulls the rug from underneath of fans. This is commonly in the form of a bait and switch or use of shock value.

Examples

Batman #50

Lois Lane dies in first issue of Superwoman

Character is revived from death after a few issues

Story is written off as AU or dream sequence and will have no impact on future stories

4. The Backlash

Fan express intense anger online. The backlash is sometimes reported in comic/pop culture news media.

5. The Decline

In the months following the backlash DC returns to the status quo. Readers lose interest in current books. DC Comics’ pre-order sales begin to decline. They increasingly lose market shares and are pushed out of top 10 pre-ordered titles by Marvel.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

The problem with fans is we keep getting caught up in steps one and two very easily. We (and this included me for a very long time) are constantly rewarding DC Comics by throwing our money at them every time they do the absolute bare minimum. All they have to do is trot out batcat every so often in the most non-committal way and we come running. Every. Single. Time.

They have absolutely no incentive to change, because we as fans have made it exceedingly easy for them to leech off of us. We can’t keep doing the same thing over and over again and expect different results.

If you’re really tired of DC and their bullshit and you’re ready to divest you’re going to have to stop subsidizing their scams until they’re ready to make a commitment. Full stop. That means no rushing out to buy the latest issue of Batman and Catwoman kissing on a rooftop or beach or whatever. Stop buying variant covers completely (DC and Marvel [but DC in particular] uses variant covers to artificially inflate their sale numbers. Don’t play this game). Don’t buy their bullshit Wedding Album or 80 Years of Batman and Catwoman, or whatever else worthless “collectible” hardcover they publish. Put the onus on them to earn your money. If you really feel that you must keep up with what’s happening with the characters, pirate that shit.

If and when a time ever comes that DC is ready to commit to change and commit to their stories (and actually commit; not just say they’re going to commit; make them prove it) then, and only then, should you consider giving them any more of your time, attention, or money.

I don’t say this to be mean or harsh or judgey. I’m saying this because you asked me what I think and I’ve been where you are. I used to think that if I was loyal enough and patient enough that eventually I would be rewarded with this big emotional payout. It never happened. I don’t want you to end up where I am. Trust me; it’s not fun on this side of jaded.

Maybe by sharing my brutal honesty about all that I’ve learned from my experiences it will save someone out there from years of constant frustration and heart-ache. At the very least you’ll know what you’re getting yourself into.

#ask #batcatguru #personal note

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sprnklersplashes · 4 years

Text

heart of stone (11/?)

AO3

As it turns out, the next thing that happens is Damian calling her. She answers immediately, holding her phone as close as she can and pulling her knees up to her chest.

“Janis?”

“Damian?”

“I-oh my God!” His voice is so high, so fast, that she can barely register anything he’s saying. Not that what he’s saying is anything coherent anyway. “You…. Oh my God, Janis! Your hair! Are you okay? What happened, when did this happen?”

“So,” she breathes, her fingers drumming on the floor. “I’m guessing you saw the photos?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I did. It was literally the first thing I saw when I opened Instagram.”

“Aw, we’re psychically connected,” she teases.

“Babe, you know I have my notifications on for you,” he replies. He falls silent and so does she, her fingers picking at the rug as seconds pass with neither one speaking. It’s new and scary territory, for her as well as him, which is why she’s almost okay. It’s more than enough just to have him here, even if it’s only on the other end of a phone.

“Are you okay?” he asks after a while.

“I… good question.” She lets out a long sigh, her head dropping against the wall. It hurts, probably more than it would have before. What constitutes ‘okay’ took on a new meaning a while ago and it’s always changing. Still, even with that, she knows what she’s feeling now. Like she’s stepped off a roller coaster, dizzy and uncertain, the ground beneath her feet shifting and her stomach tied up in knots. “No, I’m not okay. I’m really, really not okay. But you know how it is.”

He hums in response. He doesn’t know, not really, because he can’t, but one of Damian’s many attributes is empathy. It’s what makes him such a good actor but more importantly, such a good friend. Just like always, he knows what to say and what she needs.

“Do you… want me to come over?”

And despite the heaviness in her chest, she smiles.

“You would?”

“Of course I would. Do you… would you be okay with that?”

“Yeah. Yeah I would. I really, really would.” Her voice catches in her throat. “See you in a hot minute.”

“On my way, kiddo,” he says.

“Wait, Damian,” she says hurriedly. “Just… don’t tell your mom about this, okay?”

“Of course not,” he says, like he hadn’t even thought of it.

“Or my parents either.” She can see him stopping at that, confusion crossing his face followed by his trademark parental disapproval. Even sitting here, two blocks away from him, the image is enough to make her shift where she sits.

“You haven’t told them?”

“This was kind of an impulse decision,” she sighs. “I’ll tell them at some point.”

“Yeah you’d kind of have to.”

“Oh shut up,” she scoffs. “Just… tell them I asked you to hang out. And keep them out of my room, okay?”

“Okay,” he says softly. “I’m leaving the house now. I’ll see you in ten, okay?”

She nods, coldness creeping back into her body and anxiety prickling in her stomach. She’s tempted to change her mind and cancel, the thought of him seeing her like this terrifying her to her core. But even if she did, it wouldn’t matter. He knows she needs him, and so he’d be here anyway.

“Thanks,” she tells him before hanging up.

She spends those ten minutes pressed against her bedroom wall with her eyes closed, her ears straining to hear her parents. They shuffle around in the kitchen, the TV turns on in the living room, they have conversations in low voices. Her heart picks up when she hears the stairs creek, and it sits in her throat when she hears footsteps outside her door. Her dad’s. He lingers outside her room and she cowers away from him, like he’s not her dad but the monster from her childhood nightmares. She presses her face to her knees to stop her mind from picturing him looking sadly at the door, hand extending to knock, unsure if he should.

He turns and goes back downstairs, and she feels terrible for being relieved.

Minutes later, her mom greets Damian at the front door, and he asks if he can see her, telling her that she invited him. Her mom is delighted with the news, probably just happy that she’s seeing people and not locking herself away.

He knocks her door, the touch careful and gentle and the only thing that could make her get up. Her limbs are stiff from sitting and cold from dread, and no amount of shaking fixes the latter. Her hand trembles as she opens the door and she barely remembers to slide the bolt back.

In the three seconds it takes for the door to open, she feels more fear than she’s ever felt in her life.

“Hey,” she croaks out.

“Hi,” he replies, his voice so soft that it makes her want to cry. He sounds like he’s about to cry and he hasn’t even seen the entirety yet.

He slips in through the narrow opening, slowly clicking the door shut behind him. Unable to look at his face, she keeps her eyes trained on his shirt; white with a cartoon Pikachu on it. She wants nothing more than to collapse into his chest and let him hold her until she feels alive again, but she keeps her distance.

“You… you really did it,” he finally says.

“It wasn’t an Instagram filter,” she mumbles. It’s an awful joke, if you can call it that, but he huffs out a laugh. She does to, only it turns into a sob and her face crumples.

“Oh, kid.”

He wraps her in his arms, his embrace feeling like an old blanket, one she’s had her whole life, and she leans into him, her tears rubbing off on his shoulder. While she’s always been smaller than him, she feels impossibly dwarfed now, like he could pick her up and carry her out of here. He probably could, what with the weight she’s at now.

His hand comes up and covers her head, rubbing against it where he would have patted her hair.

“Does it look bad?” she asks. She feels rather than sees him smile.

“Nah. You could never.” He pulls away, just enough to look at her, his hand still on her shoulder. She meets his eyes for the first time, and finds them conflicted, trying to be cheerful, but still laced with discomfort. She can’t blame him and squeezes his hand to show him that. It’s still a shock to her and she’s been living with it for 20 minutes longer than he has. “Janis… what happened?”

“I…” she sighs. She waves her hand in the air as though she was trying to physically pick events and put them in order. “I told you it was kind of an impulse decision, right?”

“Yeah,” he says. “But you know, there’s ‘buying twelve plushies on the Internet’ impulsive and then there’s…” He strokes her head again, his touch so, so careful.

“True,” she chuckles. She punches his arm, partly out of genuine affection and party to try to diffuse this awkward energy between them. Crossing her arms over her chest, she takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “So… Guess I should start at the beginning?”

“The very beginning,” he says before a small, bright smile turns up on his face. “Apparently it’s a very good place to start.”

“Nerd,” she teases. “Well…” She steps backwards, flops onto the bed and grabs a pillow, pulling it over her stomach and squeezing it hard. “In the hospital, yesterday. That’s when I noticed it. I couldn’t not notice. I brushed my hair and my hair came out with it. Not even a little bit, you know like it normally does. Like, a lot. And I freaked out.” Damian doesn’t say anything, but she can already see his eyes starting to water. “Stop me if this gets too uncomfortable, okay?”

He can only nod.

“So then I get home, and even more comes out. I’m just lying on my bed and more of it comes out.” Her grip on the pillow tightens. She’s pouring salt all over these fresh wounds and holy hell, it hurts. “And then this morning and then half an hour ago and then I…” She sighs, long and shuddering and reaches out for his hand. He takes it, of course and strength seeps slowly into her skin. “It was falling out. And I realised that I could either do it myself or let the chemo do it for me.” She traces patterns on the back of his hand. “I’m not going to be bossed around by some medicine.”

“I know you won’t,” he says, pride shining in his eyes. He pulls her into his embrace and she willingly follows, resting her head on his shoulder. Normally her hair would be falling down his back or tickling his nose. Now that won’t happen for a long, long time.

“Oh my God,” she whispers. She turns around and tucks her legs up beneath her, the tears running down her cheeks noiselessly. Her hands twist the pillow around and around, just like her chest is doing now; her throat winding tighter and tighter. “What have I done?”

“What you always do,” he tells her quietly. “Been brave.”

“I don’t feel brave.” She pushes herself up and paces the room, one hand on her lip and the other pressed against her mouth. Damian’s eyes follow her, confused and helpless. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

She shakes her head but manages to stop herself from telling him that he doesn’t. She slows to a halt in front of the full length mirror, her heart freezing in her chest. She doesn’t recognise herself. She looks so much smaller now. Weak, fragile. She wants to spit at herself and Damian sitting there is the only reason she doesn’t.

“It did seem like a good idea at the time,” she says, unsure who she’s directing that to. “It did.”

“And it was,” he insists. “It was the good idea out of two bad ones.” She picks at her nails, unable to even pretend to smile.

“This is going to take some getting used to,” she states. Damian hums in agreement and comes up behind her, arms around her waist. She grabs onto him, clinging to her most trusted lifeline. She blinks, and another realisation sets in, along with a fresh set of tears. “All people are going to see now is cancer,” she says glumly.

“But you’re a Scorpio,” he mumbles into her shoulder.

“Shut up,” she chuckles. “You know what I mean. I’m not a person anymore.” Her voice shakes and although she’s standing up with his arms around her, she feels as though she’s sinking into the floor. “I can’t hide it anymore.” For years she’s strove to stand out, but not like this. Now blending in is all she wants to do.

Damian doesn’t say anything, just holds her tighter, even though his own hands are shaking.

“Wait,” he says suddenly, untangling himself from her. She holds onto one of his hands and follows his eyes to her bed. At first, she thinks he’s looking at the carpet of hair across the bed. The sight is physically painful for her and she almost turns her head away before she sees what he was really after. He reaches over and picks up the razer, eyeing it with fascination.

“It’s my dad’s,” she explains. “I didn’t ask his permission, but I doubt he’ll be mad. That’d be real messed up.”

“Janis,” he says softly, looking over at her. There’s an idea sparking in his mind, and if it’s what Janis think it is, she’ll kill him. “What if I-”

“No,” she says sternly.

“You don’t even know what I’m suggesting,” he whines. “It could be anything.”

“If it involves that razor and your head I don’t want to hear it,” she tells him. “I mean it, Hubbard.” His face falls and he looks from the razor to her.

“What if you’re not the only one people are looking at though?” he asks. He turns it on, and the mechanical whirring makes her stomach do a turn. “You know?”

“Damian,” she sighs. Diplomacy is what’s needed here, and though that’s not really her strong suit, she’s willing to give it a shot now. She has to. “Look, you are the single greatest person and the best friend I could ever want, and-OH MY FUCKING GOD DAMIAN!”

She claps her hands to her mouth, her cheeks bulging behind them. Damian’s mouth has fallen into an ‘o’, his eyes wide and shocked. He looks like someone had just tazed him. That might have been better. But instead, there’s a bald strip running right through the middle of his head.

“Oh my God,” she says from behind her fingers. “Oh my God you just did that.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “It’s… it’s kind of a rush, really.”

“Damian… why the hell would you do that?” she asks. “Why?”

“Because,” he says firmly. He could put Mr Duvall to shame. “If this is happening to you, then it’s happening to me to.”

When tears prickle this time, they’re tears of gratitude. Gratitude to the universe for letting her exist at the same time as Damian and allowing him to be her best friend. She’ll never understand how she got so blessed to have him. But she couldn’t be more thankful for it.

“Are you serious?” she asks.

“Right now, I can’t not be,” he tells her, grinning. She smiles back and then using all the love she has in her, she launches herself into his arms, nearly topping the two of them over. “Woah there, still holding an active razor.”

“Sorry.” She lets him go and wipes the tears on her face. She gestures up to the strip on his head. “Want me to help you out here?”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“I am more experienced with this than you,” she reminds him.

She sits him down on her bed and kneels behind him. He had piled up all of her old hair and pushed it into the corner. She had tried to start on it, but even touching it was too much for her. Meanwhile, she dragged the mirror out in front to sit in front of them.

“You sure about this?” she asks him, waving the razor. “You know this is kind of permanent. Or long-lasting anyway.”

“Yeah,” he says. There’s far more confidence in his voice than she’d have. He squares his shoulders and nods at her in the mirror. “Do it. I trust you.”

“You may regret that,” she says, and he just laughs.

Despite her shaking hands, she does a fairly okay jobs, pouring all her concentration into guiding the razor across his head. She even battles past how sickened she is in doing it, fighting the urge to flinch. She holds his ears down and gets at the side and gently sweeps at the bottom. She’s doing a lot better than she thought she would. It’s not perfect, the two cuts at the nape of his neck are proof of that, but she’s weirdly proud of herself nonetheless.

“Okay,” she breathes. She leans back on her heels and switches the razor off, relieved when the sound is finally gone. “We’re done.” She holds her breath, one hand holding his tightly, preparing herself for any kind of reaction; regret, disgust, anxiety. She’s been through it all in the past half an hour.

“I look like my grandpa,” is what he says instead and Janis bursts into laughter. Real laughter, the kind that shakes her sides and is loud and obnoxious and makes her fall onto the bed. “No, I seriously do!”

“You are a grandpa,” she teases, pushing herself up on her elbows. She doesn’t know if she’d say he looks like a grandpa but he does look odd. It sort of unsettles her, which it shouldn’t given she’s the one who started this whole mess. But whatever discomfort it feels is nothing compared to how warmed her heart is, so she takes his hand and laces her fingers through it. “Thank you.”

“What are friends for?” he replies softly. But this is past friendship and they both know it.

“Guess this means the drama department will have to set aside some cash for a wig,” she teases. “Do you know when the list comes out?”

“Oh. That.” His eyes drop to the floor, his lips pressed tightly together.

“Damian?” she asks. “Damian, what happened? You… you didn’t get it did you?”

“Ensemble,” he replies. “And they said they might consider me for an understudy.”

“Seriously? Come on, that… no that’s not happening.” Nothing makes sense about it. Damian is easily the best performer in that drama club, and she’d watched his audition piece over Facetime ten times. The role was as good as his. “Is that drama department on crack?”

“Quite possibly,” he says. “They’ve always been on crack. But it’s okay. I’m okay with it.”

“Liar,” she tells him.

“Well I screwed the audition!” he says with a shrug. “So it was kind of my own fault.”

“You haven’t screwed up an audition in the entire time I’ve known you,” she reminds him. “What happ-”

She can’t finish her sentence. The guilt written across his face and the way he avoids her eyes are all the answer she needs. She doesn’t know if she should be angry at herself or crushed for him.

“Oh my God,” she sighs. “I’m so sorry, buddy.” Now it’s her turn to hug him from behind, her cheek pressed against his shoulder.

“What are you sorry for?” he asks. “It was my fault. My heart just wasn’t in it. Besides, I’m just happy I get to be in the show at all. There’s no small parts after all.” She keeps her mouth shut; the last thing she wants is to make this about her. But she can’t help feeling responsible. This is the last thing she wanted to do; drag other people down with her. There must have been something she could have done to stop this. Talked to him more, let him know she was okay, maybe managed to get out and go with him to the audition.

“Who got it then?” she asks quietly.

“Jason Carpenter,” he answers. “Junior.”

“Well we’ll just have to arrange for a little accident to befall our young friend, won’t we?” she asks.

“You’re a dangerous human,” he tells her with a grin. He reaches up and holds her arms. “Nothing could change that.”

They have a second of quiet before the doorknob turns, and panic jumps in immediately. They can only look at each other and then the door for a split second with identical wide eyes and open mouths before her mom walks in carrying a tray of snacks.

“Hey, I thought you guys might like some-”

The tray clatters to the floor. Coke spreads across the carpet and cookies bounce on the plate. Her mom is frozen, looking from Janis to Damian, taking in the bald heads and the pile of hair on her bed. For what may well be a century, they can all just sit in shell-shocked silence.

“We need a vacuum,” Janis says weakly.

“Oh my gosh,” her mom whispers from behind her hands.

“Mom.” She jumps up and runs over to her mom, taking her hands in hers and trying her best to smile. “It’s… I’m okay.”

“Oh, Janis,” she sighs. Her hand reaches out but freezes halfway to her head. “When did this start?”

“Yesterday,” she says shyly. “It started happening before we left the hospital and it kept falling out and then…. This just happened.” She takes in a breath, although it does nothing to calm her. “I just wanted it off.”

“Oh, baby,” she says. “Why didn’t you tell us it was falling out?”

“I just freaked out,” she confesses. She kicks the floor. “I got scared.” Her mom sighs and strokes her wet cheeks. Janis is confident that if they were alone, she’d have gotten a kiss on the forehead. But they weren’t and when her mom saw Damian, a whole new emotional outburst came through.

“Oh, Damian.” She almost shoves Janis aside and runs over to him, hugging him tightly like he was hers. “You did this for her?”

“Would you believe that this isn’t even the craziest thing I’ve ever done for her?” he says, any trace of sadness gone. Janis crosses her arms over her chest, a bemused grin on her face. “This was nothing.”

“Thank you,” her mom says, her voice cracking. She turns to Janis and points sternly at her. “You better keep him around. People like this don’t come around a lot.”

“I intend to,” she says.

Just then, the door opens even more, and her dad is on the other side. Much as she’s in favour of ripping off the band-aid, she wishes she could have waited a little longer on this one.

“So this is what all the commotion is about,” he says weakly. Janis only nods. He smiles, albeit it’s tiny, and looks over at her bed. “I assume you’re going to clean that up.”

“Dad,” she scoffs, just as her mom says “Alex!”.

“Kidding,” he says, holding his hands up. “Kidding. I’ll do it.” The joke fades from his face though and his hand is on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

She really wishes people would stop asking her that.

“As okay as I can be,” she answers.

He pulls her into a tight hug, whispering “c'est ma fille” in her ear. He only speaks French to her when it’s serious.

“I say for telling the rest of the family we just put my pictures into the group chat,” she says. “So they’re used by the time they see me.”

“We don’t even need to put in an explanation,” her dad adds. “Let them work it out for themselves.”

“We should ask if they notice any difference,” she goes on. “Test how delicate they are.”

“You two are terrible,” her mom sighs, her hand on Damian’s shoulder. Janis laughs and sits down on the bed, acutely aware of all the eyes on her. Her parents, because she just jumped off the cliff without telling them, and Damian, because this isn’t his house and they didn’t really make plans past him hugging her.

“Hey, I’m feeling pretty good, why don’t we go out?” she asks Damian, suddenly aware of how small her room is. “We could go to the park?”

“Um, sure,” he replies.

“Mom? Dad?” She looks from one parent to the other, her feet swinging just above the floor. “Can we?”

“Uh…” Her parents look at each other, one just as helpless as the other.

“Doctor Wiley says I should if I can,” she reminds them. “You know, keep up exercise and stuff.”

“Because you exercise so much?” Damian asks. Janis punches him for that comment.

“Well, if you think you’re up to it,” her dad says. “I don’t see why not. Just… you two might want to wear some hats.”

“Oh is there a breeze?” Janis replies, raising an eyebrow. “Thanks, guys.”

Janis fishes out two old beanies from her closet and Damian follows her downstairs. Maxie is down in the hallway, running up and down the hallway in the way he often does when he’s restless. He runs up to the cupboard under the stars and paws at the door and Janis realises he hasn’t been walked today.

Her feet hit the hallway floor and his little ears perk up, thinking someone’s come to save him from boredom. Suddenly she’s acutely aware of the lack of hair on her head, the hat still in her hand. She takes in a deep breath and creeps towards him, her steps cautious, far too cautious for where she is. In her house, with her dog.

She kneels down, and after the longest second of her life, Maxie runs up to her, butting his head against her legs and attempting to jump up on her knees.

“I look a little different right now, don’t I?” she whispers to him, a kiss pressed to his furry head. “It’s still me, don’t worry. It’s still me.”

She’s said before that validation from her dog feels better than from anyone else, but it’s never been truer than it is right now.

“What’s that crazy dog doing now?” her mom sighs. Heat rushes through Janis’ cheeks when she remembers she still has an audience.

“He’s just bored Mom,” she replies as she straightens up. “No-one’s walked him yet. We can do it now if you want.” She looks over at Damian, who stands in the corner and makes kissy faces at her dog. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Why would I ever mind?” he asks her before coming over and ruffling Maxie’s hair. “Why would I ever mind walking my favourite boy?”

So when they set off, it’s with hats on their heads, a leash in Janis’ hand and poop bags in Damian’s pocket. The air feels colder than usual, the extra sweater her mom insisted she take actually coming in handy, and the clouds are tinged with grey, promising rain later. Autumn is definitely making herself known now, bringing with it the excitement of Halloween and bonfires and the spooky witching season that she’s always loved..

That you won’t get to have this time a voice whispers in her head.

She pushes that thought away and focussed on what Damian’s saying. He’s filling her in on the North Shore gossip, although there doesn’t seem to be much. People broke up, people got back together, someone cheated on a test, some teachers are assholes. Two teachers allegedly hooked up, which does make her ask for more details. The musical is avoided altogether rather than being the main focus, and much as she tries to ignore it, the absence bothers her.

She wraps her arm around him and rests her cheek on his shoulder. They decide to go to the park to let Max roll around on some grass. Damian points out how his ears perk up when the word ‘park’ is mentioned.

“Hey, why don’t we call for Cady?” she suggests, seeing as they’re close to her house anyway. “I mean, only if you’re cool with it.”

“Of course I am.”

“Sweet,” she says. “She hasn’t seen Maxie since before school started. She probably misses the little pooch.”

“She also misses you,” Damian says. Janis shakes her head, tilting her head forwards only to remember her usual way of hiding her blush is gone.

“She does?” she says. “She can’t. I text her pretty much every day.”

“Yeah but that’s not face to face,” he points out. “She misses seeing you face to face.”

Her grin grows wider. “She said that about me?”

“You sound like you’re still in middle school,” he sighs. His voice then turns high, in what she guesses is meant to be an impression of Janis. “Oh, does Cady like me? Like does she like-like me?”

“Shut up,” she scoffs. “I’ll take poop duty off you if you keep that up.”

“Oh how will I possibly survive?” He rolls his eyes for good measure as they turn up Cady’s street, her house just a minute down the street.

And then Janis’ brain turns upside down, the gentle buzz replaced with heart-pounding dread, her blood turning cold. The butterflies she felt when she first suggested Cady turn to sand and pile up inside her. The familiar street turns sinister in the blink of an eye and she’s met with the urge to turn around and go anywhere else.

“Um, on second thought she’s probably busy,” she says. “She said something about Mathletes when I last talked to her, I’ll text her later-”

“Janis.” He takes her arm and turns her to face him, eyebrows raised and face set in a ‘no-nonsense’ expression. It’s no wonder her mom loves Damian so much; they’re practically the same person. “You can’t avoid Cady forever.”

“I’m not avoiding her,” she replies. She chews on her nail. “Just think she needs space.”

“Okay first off, hand away from your mouth,” he tells her, pulling it away. “And second, Cady isn’t the one you’re giving space to here.”

She sighs deeply, stuffing her hands in her pockets while Maxie amuses himself with a lamppost beside her. He’s right, even if she freaking hates it. She doesn’t know what she was thinking when she suggested getting Cady. Maybe she missed her, maybe she forgot she was freaking bald. Maybe, most likely, she wasn’t thinking past the next five minutes, to when Cady sees her, if she hasn’t seen her photos already, and she has to have the ‘oh hey I’m bald now because of the cancer that I have, please don’t run away from me because I really like being with you and I promise I’m still your girlfriend’ talk with her.

And no-one prepared her to have that talk.

“I’m nervous,” she confesses.

“Over Cady?” he echoes without mocking her. “Come on, she’s the human equivalent of a puppy. Would you be nervous around Maxie?”

“Yeah,” she answers and that sets him back. “I was nervous about Maxie. Times that by ten and you get how I feel now.” When she looks back over her shoulder, she can see the edges of the tree in the Herons’ front yard, the leaves turning gold. “I don’t want to freak her out,” she mumbles. “See this is the kind of thing I was trying to avoid-”

“By breaking up with her?” he finishes. “And how did that work out?”

“You’re being a real jerk right now,” she says. It’s half-hearted though. He’s not a jerk, just offering her some much-needed tough love.

“Tell you what,” he says. “If Cady has had a sudden and drastic personality change and freaks out, then I will personally-”

“Kick her in the face?”

“Give her a very extreme talking to,” he says instead. “And if she hasn’t then you have nothing to worry about and you two can go on being the impossibly cute couple that I am proud to call my friends. But… you never know unless you find out.” He holds his hand in front of him, the corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. “Deal?”

Janis looks back down the street. In amongst the anxiety and the fear, there’s a pull in her chest, a desperate desire to see her girlfriend again. Facetimes and texts can only do so much; her arms haven’t been around her since last week. That’s far too long for a person to go without a Cady cuddle.

“Fine,” she says, and Damian’s arm slings around her shoulders before they stroll up to the Herons’ house, Maxie scurrying along beside them.

“Are you going to ring the doorbell?” Damian asks her quietly once they’re on the step. “Or do you want me to do it?”

“I’ve got it,” she mumbles, pressing her finger to it. The sound makes her wince; it’s never been so sharp before.

He nods and rubs a comforting hand along her shoulders.

On the other side, they hear fast footsteps sprinting towards the door, an outline appearing in the window out of nowhere, and the door opens to reveal an out of breath Cady, her wide eyes focussed solely on Janis.

“Janis,” she breathes.

“Hey,” she replies, holding up a hand in an awkward half-wave. Her mouth runs dry, words deserting her.

“Oh my gosh!” Cady throws her body at her, their chests colliding, her arms around her shoulders, her head buried in the crook of her neck, her breath tickling her skin. Janis wraps her own arms around her, revelling in the feeling of Cady being back in her arms. The hug is desperate and a little afraid, like they’re clinging for survival. Like Cady is worried Janis might disappear if she doesn’t hold tight enough.

But even with all that, it��s still got all the markers of a Cady cuddle. Safe and warm and making her feel like she can take on anything.

“Oh my gosh,” she says again, her fingers scraping at the nape of her neck. When she pulls away, there’s a smile on her face, not matching the sadness in her eyes. “You look good.”

“You think so?” she echoes. She scratches the back of her neck. “You know I had been thinking of going bald for a while, but I wasn’t sure if it would work.”

“It works,” she tells her. “Believe me, it works.” Cady’s fingers curl into the front of Janis’ jacket, her sneakers touching the front of Janis’. Her next words are whispered, possibly mindful of Damian standing behind her, or her parents back in the house. “Are you okay?”

“God,” she sighs. “Can we make it a rule not to ever ask me that question again?”

“Sorry,” Cady says sheepishly, but the question doesn’t leave her eyes. Like everyone, she has good intentions; it’s not her fault Janis has grown tired of that question. Besides, maybe she’ll make exceptions for the two people she’s with now.

“I’m okay,” she says, running her fingers through her hair. “And me and Damian were going on a walk. You up for it?” She presses her finger into Cady’s cheek. “By the way, someone missed you.”

Adorable confusion clouds Cady’s features for a second, but it turns to glee when she notices Maxie jumping up on her, demanding to be picked up. He’s just as big a fan of her cuddles as Janis is.

The Herons are fine with it and Mrs Heron comes out to greet them, not even flinching at them, telling Janis she’s looking well and how she misses having her around. Janis misses the Herons’ house too; Mrs Heron’s cooking and the various photos from Kenya up on the walls and sitting in Cady’s room with their legs intertwined.

“Hopefully, I’ll get around soon,” she says as Cady comes through the door with her jacket on.

“Oh you take your time; we’ll still be here” Mrs Heron says. “Have a nice time, Binti.”

“Bye Mommy!” Cady calls.

They last five minutes before Janis hands Maxie’s leash to Cady, her face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. Even though she gives Maxie more leash length than he should be allowed, he stays by her side, looking up at her with those big, round eyes every now and again to play with her.

“My dog has no sense of loyalty,” Janis sighs. “I’m his sister, I feed him, I love him, I bathe him, and yet he loves Cady more than me.”

“It’s because Cady is part puppy,” Damian remarks. Cady’s mouth falls open at that remark, even more so when Janis splutters into laughter. Damian simply shrugs, shit eating grin lighting up his face. “It’s true and you know it, little slice.”

“If anything, I’m part lion,” she says, tossing her hair back.

“Oh yeah I can see it,” Janis jokes. “Real ferocious babe.”

“I’m ferocious,” she says. Her face is scrunched into the most adorable pout imaginable and Janis has to wonder if she’s doing it deliberately. “Aren’t I?”

“Completely terrifying,” she says, throwing her arm around her and kissing her temple. Damian mumbles something about Those Darned Gays and makes a fake gagging noise.

When they get to the park, Janis insists on buying both of them ice cream, even though the weather is hardly ideal. That little van stays up all year round, selling hot and cold treats, and ice cream just feels tight.

“Hey,” she greets, sliding up to the van’s window with Damian, Cady sitting with Maxie as he takes advantage of the free dog water. “Can I get three cones? One chocolate, one butterscotch, one bubblegum?”

“Oh,” is all the cashier says. She’s old, must be in her forties or fifties, and Janis has definitely been served by her before. The ‘oh’ was tiny and could be trivial, but Janis tenses at it. Even when she smiles and says, “coming right up”, she can’t shake it.

Yes, she guessed that her hair falling out would shock a few people. She just doesn’t like seeing it.

She hands her over the cones and Janis fishes a five dollar bill out of her pocket.

“Oh, no honey, this one’s on the house.”

She grits her teeth. Any other time she’d love to hear those words, but now this lady is going to take her money whether she wants it or not.

“No thanks,” she says, sliding the bill across the counter. “Here. Keep the change.”

“That’s okay, kid,” she says again. Her voice is careful and honestly, kind of condescending. “These are a treat.”

“Yeah, from me. I’m treating my friends,” she says. Damian shifts uncomfortably behind her and she takes in a breath. Minimal damage, that’s he goal. Besides, keep this up and she runs the risk of acting like a Karen, albeit in the opposite direction.

“Thank you,” she tells the cashier. “But it’s okay. It’s just three dollars. Please, just take the money.”

Maybe this ‘vulnerable and weak’ look has some perks, much as she hates it, because she reluctantly takes it and hands her back the change.

Janis puts that in the tip jar and walks away with a smile.

“I have never seen someone so adamantly refuse free shit,” Damian says, handing her the bubble gum cone.

“Yeah well,” she shrugs. “Point of principle and all that.” He nods, a short hum escaping him.

“Do you think people will give me free shit now?” he asks. “You know, people who don’t know me?”

The very question is so ridiculous that Janis bursts out laughing just as they reach Cady.

“What happened?” she asks, looking from Janis to Damian and taking her butterscotch.

“Damian’s planning on using his completely selfless and kind act to exploit people and make them give him free shit,” Janis giggles.

“Shame on you, Damian Hubbard,” Cady scoffs. “How do you sleep at night?”

“On my bed of sins,” he replies, and Janis busts out laughing again.

“That sounds like a porno.”

“A Jesus related porno,” Damian adds.

“That’s an image permanently branded into my mind,” Cady says.

“The Bible but it’s kinky,” Janis adds and she watches Cady’s cheeks flame red. Not even her time in the plastics could make her comfortable with this kind of stuff, which does make for some fun interactions.

“Somewhere out in Florida my very Catholic grandmother is having chest pains,” Damian says. He nudges Janis’ arm. “By the way, Bertha says hello.”

“Oh we have to love Grandma Bertha,” Janis says.

Cady tracks down a good sized stick on the grass and after inspecting it for bugs or anything else, starts tossing it for Maxie. Thankfully there’s no other dogs or little kids around so they can let him off his leash and watch him go wild around the grass.

“I wonder if I’ll ever be as happy as your dog is when someone plays fetch with him,” Damian says.

“Not possible,” she replies with a shake of her head. “Dogs just have a level of happiness unattainable by us mere mortals.”

“Well that explains Cady.” Cady turns around and raises her eyebrow at him, dimple in her cheek as she smiles. Damian simply sticks his tongue back at her. Janis wraps her arm around Cady’s middle and rests her chin and her shoulder, swiftly pressing her lips to Cady’s jacket. She also sneaks a lick of Cady’s ice cream, which her girlfriend doesn’t seem to mind.

Maxie bounds up to Cady with the stick in his mouth, his little feet barely touching the grass as he comes. He deposits it at her feet, his tail wagging frantically and his fur streaked with mud.

“Okay Mr Max, you’re getting a bath when you go home,” Janis tells him. His ears droop at that and he whimpers, tilting his head to look up at her. It would melt anyone else’s heart, it certainly does for Cady, but she’s more experienced. “Mm, beg all you want little boy, it’s not changing a damn thing.”

Cady laughs and throws the stick again, Maxie forgetting his woes as he chases it back across the park. Cady leans her head against Janis’ shoulder, making warmth radiate through Janis’ body. It feels nice.

It would feel nicer if it weren’t so god damned tired.

She doesn’t know when it started, she’d been too good at ignoring it, but that’s fallen apart now. It’s not the dragging her down, unable to move kind of tired, just the heavy eyelids and the longing to sit down kind. It’s become more common these days and she’s never disliked it more than she does right now.

She has half a mind to run back down to the stall and get some coffee but dismisses the idea. It’s a combination of not wanting to worry Cady and Damian and not wanting to go back there.

So she tosses the stick for her dog and laughs at Damian’s jokes and blushes at the sight of Cady’s smile. She’ll make herself power through it.

“Oh, I have to get home,” Damian announces after a while, his phone in his hand. “Mom wants me back. Plus, I have to start an assignment for English.”

“Cool. I think we’ve given the pup enough exercise for one day,” Janis says. She taps her leg and whistles, calling Maxie back to her. He doesn’t falter as she puts the leash back on him; his feet tapping against the ground. She runs her hand through his fur and lets him lick her hand before she straightens up and they start the walk back down.

They’re barely away from the green before her chest starts getting tight. A simple one minute walk draining her almost completely. Her gut reaction is to panic, whether it’s over her friends’ reaction or her own safety she isn’t sure. She doesn’t struggle to breathe, but she struggles to retain it, her chest pitifully, painfully empty.

“Janis?” Cady asks her. Sharp, eagle-eyed Cady. Her arm had threaded through Janis’ and it tightens now. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says. It’s more of a mumble though. She tries to take in a deep breath and fails miserably, a metallic taste hangs around in her mouth.

She’s too tired to even keep her wall up, and so she admits that she needs to sit down for a moment. She lowers herself onto a park bench, Damian’s hand on her back, and buries her face in her hand.

“Is she okay?” a passer-by asks her, the voice so sweet it makes her feel sick.

“I’m fine,” she grumbles, not bothering to look up at them. That must not have deterred them, because Damian then says “she’s okay, really. Just out of breath”.

She isn’t sure how long they sit there. To be honest, she’s not counting. She can’t, not with the way her vision darkens and her thoughts lose track. All she can focus on is keeping her eyes open. She does vaguely think about how she’ll be paying for this with apology texts later tonight.

“Okay, you can’t walk home,” Cady says. “Not like this.”

“Yeah I can!” she replies, suddenly spurred into action, although she sounds a lot stronger than she feels. She grabs the bench and pushes herself up, her friends protesting on either side of her. Her body protests as well; her chest burns and her legs shake. She could tune her friends out, but she has no choice to listen to her body and falls back on the bench.

When she raises her head to look at the park gate, it seems so, so much further away than she thought. Her shoulders drop at the mere idea of trying to make it over there. Maybe she could, but making it to her house? Impossible.

Her heart breaks when she uses that word, but it is.

She sits still for a long time before Damian takes her silence as resignation and offers to call her dad for her. She leans her head on Cady’s shoulder as he makes the call, their fingers joined in her lap.

After he hangs up, Damian helps pull her to her feet and, after making sure she won’t pass out, lets her lean on him all the way to the park gate. Cady takes Maxie, who trots dutifully beside her, head high as if to ward off anyone who might pose a threat.

Her dad’s car pulls up within minutes, if even. The three slide into the back, Janis sitting in between them. She makes sure to avoid the mirror, not wanting to see either her reflection or her dad’s face.

Before they reach their house, they leave Damian home first.

“Are you okay?” he asks her as he unbuckles his seatbelt. She’s pretty sure she had a response, but it comes out a soft “mm-hm”. She looks at him, really looks, taking in the bald head again. He did that. He did that for her and hasn’t regretted it so far.

“Thank you,” she says. The words feel too weak for what he did. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, kid,” he tells her. “Now if you want to repay me, go home and take a nap.”

“Your mom may not let you hang out with me once she sees that,” she teases, pointing to his head. He laughs merrily and shakes his head at her.

“She’ll be fine. After all, she survived when made that dent in my wall. This is nothing.”

She hugs him tightly before he leaves, putting everything she can’t say into this. As they drive away, she finds herself unable to take her eyes off him and his house until it’s out of sight.

Cady doesn’t need to be asked to stay. She texts her parents quickly in the car and rests her hand on her leg for the rest of the car ride, her touch gentle. She holds her hand on the way into the house, her other wrapped around her arm, making sure she won’t fall/

Her mom greets Cady with a smile and Janis with a frown, asking if she’s okay and does she need anything and what happened. The two of them explain everything, Cady apologising again and again. Her mom insists she doesn’t need to and after one more check-over, they can finally go upstairs.

They don’t even get a bedroom door warning this time. Not that they’d need one.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she finally asks when they’re alone on her bed, her legs over Janis’ and her back against the wall. Janis lays down on the bed, toying with a throw pillow.

“I’m fine,” she sighs. “Just tired.” She scoffs and shakes her head. “I hate that word.”

“What word? Tired?”

“It’s all I ever say now,” she explains. “I’m just tired all the freaking time and I’m sick of it.” The pillow is scrunched up in her fist, creases ruining the pattern. She pulls it against her chest and looks at her girlfriend. “Sorry, I’m being really self-pitying.”

“I think given the circumstances; you’re allowed to be.”

“But that’s the thing I don’t want to be.” She tosses the pillow off the bed. “I don’t want to complain anymore.”

“This coming from Janis Sarkisian, self-proclaimed Queen of Cynicism?” Cady jokes, only it doesn’t land. Cady understands and her face falls in an instant. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She folds her arms over her chest. She’s always felt Cady understands her perfectly, like the universe made their brains for each other, but now she feels so distanced from her that it physically pains her.

But then Cady takes her hand and to her surprise, the pain dulls.

“Hey,” she says. She can hear the smile in her voice and despite the mood she’s in, it’s infectious. “I know you hate this. I don’t blame you.” She lifts her hand and presses a kiss to it, and the pain dulls even more. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“No, I know.” She threads her fingers through Janis’. “But it’s okay to not have good days right now. Don’t worry we’re all still completely terrified of you.”

“Thanks,” she chuckles. She takes in a deep breath, their joined hands resting on Janis’ stomach. Her thumb strokes the back of her hand thoughtfully. It’s just them in here, their space. And if she can’t say this to Cady it’ll probably stay hidden in her heart forever, and it’ll hurt in there. “I don’t like having bad days though. Especially not now.”

Her whole concept of good and bad has been changed lately; bad days are far worse now. The amount of shit she can handle-physically and mentally- has dropped dramatically.

“I want to be able to stay up past midnight. I want to go on walks with you and not feel like I’m going to pass out.” She half-buries her face in the covers. “I want to keep being myself. I don’t want that taken away.”

Cady lets out a breath. Without saying anything, she wriggles out of her position and lays down beside her, her eyes looking into Janis’, and Janis suddenly feels reminded that she isn’t alone. Her own face is just as sad as Janis’ is, but there’s a fire in her eyes that Janis wishes she could share.

“Listen to me,” she orders. “Nothing about you is being taken away right now. Nothing and no-one could ever do that to you. You have the biggest, boldest, strongest personality I’ve ever seen on anyone, ever!” Her words spark something in Janis, chasing away the coldness in her chest and letting her breathe. “Just because stuff’s a little hard right now doesn’t mean you’re not still you.” She reaches out and strokes her face. Janis tenses as her fingers come near her beanie, but she doesn’t stop her either. “You are still funny and brave and kind and goofy. You have been every day since August.” When she pauses, Janis kisses the inside of her wrist. “And it’s okay if you can’t be that way all the time. Because you’re still herself. No-one could ever take you away.”

When Cady finishes, Janis is speechless. She sits there, panting, breathless from the overwhelming affection Cady has just shown her. She has no idea what to say, not after that gorgeous speech. Words aren’t her forte, but even if they were, she could never give Cady what Cady just gave her.

“And,” she goes one. “I have a proposal. For every bad day you have, I can give you one good moment to balance it out.”

That at least makes her find something to say.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah I do,” she insists. “And in return, you have to promise to take care of yourself, okay? No pushing yourself beyond your limit. No pushing yourself too far. No refusing to accept help okay?” She sees worry creep into her eyes and for the first time, appreciates how scary what happened in the park was for them. “Deal?”

“I think that’s a fair deal,” she whispers. Her touch careful, she strokes Cady’s hair before twirling a lock around her finger. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Cady doesn’t answer. Not in the traditional way. Instead she moves over and kisses her, slow and careful and kind, everything that makes her heart skip a beat. Cady’s hand cups the back of her shaved head and Janis doesn’t try to move it away. She might be braver now or she might just be lost in her girlfriend’s lips and the overwhelming calmness it brings her.

“What was that?” she asks as she pulls away.

“The first good moment,” Cady says, eyes shining.

Janis laughs, and kisses her again.

#cadnis #janis sarkisian #cady heron #damian hubbard #mean girls broadway #mean girls fanfic #mean girls the musical

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