Your Local Bi Cryptid

But I also love the idea that Gotham is in South Jersey cause that’s my area and like, it makes even more sense. Yeah the Philly and New York adjacent areas have their own wild shit, but just thinking about the people I grew up around and how decades of people like them shaped Gotham into a city where Batman and his group of unruly children is normal, it totally fucking tracks.

(Although I can’t decide if it’s funnier to have Gotham be like slightly north of AC and Brigantine, which would explain a lot, or if it’s funnier down by Salem which is just hilarious to me. If that’s the case then Bludhaven is absolutely by AC and nobody can convince me otherwise.)

Like, the batkids having the pork roll/taylor ham debate? Does central jersey truly exist? Tim, Jay, and Cass going to the pine barrens over a long weekend to camp out in search of the jersey devil? (Dami was physically locked in the cave so he could not join them. They had to use the heavy duty chains. He almost escaped.)

Jason, Tim, Duke, Steph, and Bruce all say wuder. Babs says it when she’s like super rambley and into what she’s talking about but normally she tones it down; she talks to people from all over the world she can’t give herself away that easily. Dick, Damian, and Cass don’t have the accent at all but Dick can slip into it a bit if he needs to.

I have no dead birds for you today, just a scenario if you will. Picture me, a scruffy lil ginger kitty cat, sitting on a windowsill across the room from you. Chapter 45 starts and I’m loving it, happy as a little clam in my sun spot. By the end of chapter 45, my lil tail is flicking and I’m very clearly displeased at something. You know when you look at a cat and can’t help but wonder “are you thinking about arson? Murder? Tax fraud? What crimes are you contemplating?” Those are the vibes.

Chapter 46 starts with the same energy, but by the time Jack wakes up, I’m not too pissed, but that little tail is still flicking around.

Chapter 47 however, hot damn my ass is loafed in that sun just loving life. We get a bond between Trin and Joy which is just chef’s kiss, but then you also drop infertile alpha Al-Hashimi on me? Oh bitch you can hear my purr from a mile away.

Chapter 48 is a masterpiece. Absolutely filthy in the first half, which is just beautiful and so needed after the stress you put us all through, and then the court stuff is what made me cry. Starting off the character witnesses with Noor was an incredible choice, and I got a little misty eyed, but Trin and Jesse and Langdon are what really got me. Beautiful and just a perfect culmination of the entire fic. My little imaginary kitty cat is now fully laying on her back, paws up and tummy out, just basking in the glorious vibes and so content.

Thank you for this entire story. I cannot wait for the epilogue. I feel like I can’t say enough thanks 💚 (but also fuck you for making me cry lmao)

You have no idea how happy this made me, oh my god?

What a glorious image. I love it so much. You are welcome and also ... no, not sorry. I cried writing it. We're all crying together.

I think the epilogue will make you cry, too, tbh.

robby gets home early. two months early and 2am early. it's dark out, and he's tired— he's never not tired. a bone-deep exhaustion he just can't shake. couldn't shake it on the road, couldn't work up the courage to hurl himself off a roof or a cliff or something that would end this endless exhaustion for good. he did something he's gotten embarrassingly good at, he gave up.

he assumes dennis is sleeping at the very least, most likely not even there. dennis probably stops by once a day to water a couple of dying plants, make sure no one has broken in overnight. easy enough. of course, dennis was welcome to stay. welcome to anything, his food, (not that there's much of it) his bed, anything he wanted. robby half-expected him to get the house. half-expected himself to never come home.

knew that he was never gonna do it. too pussy, too weak, maybe. he'll make excuses, say PTMC needs him, (what a joke..) that his colleagues would miss him, something, anything. but the damned truth is he just couldn't fucking do it.

robby eases his front door shut, toes out of his boots, sighs heavy through his nose. when he pads into the living room he's shocked to make out a form in the dim light, the rise and fall of breathing, dennis. god, of course. robby should've given him some sort of express permission, do whatever you want, sleep in my bed, wear my clothes, use my shower.

not like— not like that. even though robby's chest feels weird at the thought of it, dennis in his clothes... smelling of him... nuzzling into sheets he's slept in. fuck. robby's always been a fucking pervert when it comes to his adorable intern with the biggest, saddest eyes, but knowing it feels a little better. self-awareness and all that. the kid is just so sweet, so eager, so... he looks up at robby like robby means something to him.

just— dennis should've been comfortable. he knows the kid, always scared of imposing, taking up too much space, being too much. a tendency to curl into himself, even months later with a new edge of confidence. robby knows his mattress is a hell of a lot nicer than his couch, at least.

for a moment he considers if he should leave the little thing all curled up, sleeping, unaware. but robby is a selfish man. and he'll pretend that it's for dennis, that he's thinking about how achy the poor kid will get from sleeping on the couch, but he knows it's not true. robby is fucking tired. and he wants. he wants dennis in his bed, in his arms, sleepy and sweet, something whole, something innocent. someone who likes him. who cares about his opinions and his praises, craves them, even. fuck, yeah, robby's a selfish man. but he knows it. he's aware.

ignoring the protest in his back and knees, he scoops dennis up in the cradle of his arms, grunting at the muscled weight. dennis is short, compared to him at least, and robby fucking loves that more than he should— how small dennis can seem in comparison to him— but he's not exactly tiny. especially not since his return from rotations, with those pretty, sculpted arms robby keeps peeking at every time he offers a job-well-done fistbump.

fucking pervert.

dennis stirs a little, snuffles in the crook of his neck, and robby feels like crying. it's the most intimate he's been with someone in years, it feels like, even though he picked up a girl in a bar on the road just a week ago, gave her a good night. picked up a guy, just a couple days before that. robby's good at flirting, good at sex, good at impersonal.

this feels different. dennis's warm weight, the gentle smell of coconut shampoo, the softness of the dirty blond curls against his chin. this is someone he cares about. and dennis is clinging to him in his sleep, whining a little in the back of his throat as he's laid down on robby's bed. yeah. robby feels like fucking crying, even though he'd never just let himself. he spends most of his time trying not to cry.

but, he lets himself have this. shushes dennis's soft whines, crawls into bed and curls up close, gritting his teeth as dennis takes so easily to it. nuzzles up like he's trying to burrow into robby, shuddering like he's unused to touch, unused to the warmth of another body. robby squeezes his eyes shut and lets himself drop a kiss to the top of dennis's head, breathing him in deep til his shoulders loosen a bit. god, how long has he wanted this? feels like forever. maybe always, in some capacity. someone sweet and forgiving, warm and soft, cuddling up into his chest like robby could ever be considered "safe."

someone staying, as if robby could ever be anything but abandoned.

dennis whispers robby? against his throat and robby tenses up, scared that this safety bubble is popped, that everything's broken, that he's fucked it. that he only had paradise for a moment before it's snatched from his grip all over again.

he might as well give into it while he can. talk to dennis like he does in his head, treat dennis like he fantasizes about on lonely nights. so he hums soft, starts rubbing circles on dennis's back, cuddling him somehow closer as he coos shh, you're okay, baby, you're alright. you're safe, sweetheart. go back to sleep.

robby resigns himself, waits for the other shoe to drop. waits for dennis to realize what's happening, to wrench out of his grasp, maybe yell at robby for holding him, touching him like this without even asking. innocent, maybe, but intimate, too intimate. inappropriate. so robby waits.

dennis only rubs his cheek against robby's shoulder, tucks his face into robby's neck, body going lax with an adorable little yawn. mm, he murmurs, soft, sleepy. your bed's nice. I missed you.

It takes him a minute to realize that's what's happening. Of course, they all send the Dennis pics along with texts and photos of other people. Sometimes Whitaker's in a group shot, or caught in the background of a selfie. It takes Robby a beat to realize that the pattern is Dennis-centric.

It only occurs to him that it's deliberate after a pic from Dana. At first, Dana sends weekly updates about the Pitt and an occasional word of support. Lets him know the Pitt's not on fire without him there to put it out. Then, after he's been gone a month, the first week of September, she sends a shot of Dennis at the backyard barbecue she hosts on Labor Day each year. Whitaker is wearing shorts, armed with a squirt gun, laughing, a passle of little kids crawling all over him. The accompanying text just says: missed u at the bbq this year boss. Casual, like Dana didn't just send him an image custom designed to hit him right smack in the Daddy issues.

Robby almost drops his phone. 

Pretty soon, they're all doing it. Week five, McKay sends a question about some paperwork and a picture of herself, Dennis and Mateo in the park after work. Then, Dennis apparently does a week of Night Shift because Shen sends a selfie with Dennis, each holding enormous Dunkin iced coffees. Javadi sends him a group shot that so happens to have Dennis front and center of the Pittlings, captioned that they all miss him. Princess sends a candid pic of Dennis and Jack, heads together during change over. Dennis is gesturing to something on a chart and Jack is listening with a slight frown of concentration. They're standing with the same stance. They look like two of the same letters in a slightly different font. Robby is struck by how similar they are from that angle and he ignores they way his stomach clenches with suppressed desire for both of them. Mel King sends a shot of Dennis and Santos obviously doing a round of Rock Paper Scissors to see who has to do some sort of unpleasant procedure. Even Langdon, of all people, sends Robby a photo of Dennis leaning on the desk, arms crossed, caught for a split second between patients. The kid seems unaware of his picture being taken, probably looking up at the board. His shoulders and arms look absolutely magnificent. But that surely can't be the reason why Langdon sent it? 

If it were only a few people sending them, he would consider it a coincidence, but by the six week mark, it's almost everyone who is aquatinted with the both of them. Robby can't miss the pattern. It's quite clear, all his people think Robby wants to know how Dennis is doing in his absence.

He does want to know. 

Of course, he does, despite the fact that it makes him feel like the butt of a group joke. It's embarrassing actually. Realizing they all know he's infatuated with Dennis, Robby feels called out and transparent. Like everyone must think he's such a ridiculous, old perv to be pining over a young guy like that. Thinks they must be sending these texts to make fun of his pathetic "secret" crush that was apparently obvious to everyone in the ED (except maybe Dennis himself). He doesn't know how to respond to the pictures. Usually changes the subject and asks the sender how they're doing. Or sends a pic of the scenery from his road trip.

Naturally, Trinity Santos is the most egregious Dennis pic sender. Unlike the others, there is nothing about Santos's pictures that stays within the mentor/mentee bounds. Hers are far too personal to send the man's boss. She doesn't even bother to pair the pics with a question about emergency medicine. She sends a pic of Dennis singing karaoke in a bar, wearing a crop top and smeared black eyeliner. A week or so later, she sends a pic of Dennis at an outdoor concert, toasting the camera with a plastic cup of beer. The later summer sun has brought out the freckles across his nose. A week after that, it's a pic of Huckleberry hard at work out on what must be Amy's farm. He's wearing a faded blue T-shirt that perfectly matches his eyes, stained dark with sweat. Then, there's another shot of Dennis behind the wheel of the farm truck, wearing a battered, straw cowboy hat, grinning at something the photographer was saying or doing, that little gap in his teeth showing. A few days later, she sends one that shouldn't be as hot as it is, a scowling, grouchy Dennis, obviously hungover, hair a mess, unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his pretty mouth, cooking breakfast while wearing nothing but a pair of dark sunglasses and some baggy blue boxer shorts. He's flipping off the camera. It makes Robby's heart do something strange when he realizes that one was taken in his own kitchen. Because of Santos, he sees sides of Dennis that he never gets to at work. 

There's nothing like that sent from Dennis himself, of course. Texts from him are a few carefully worded questions about the plants. Once, a question about working the dishwasher. Every week, he sends a picture of Robby's house plant collection, to show him they're all still alive and well. He sends occasional updates about Duke's post surgery recovery. It's all very Midwestern polite. Robby's replies are the same, professional and appropriate.

He suspects that poor, innocent Huckleberry has no clue his friends and co-workers are doing this to them. Robby wonders if Dennis would be embarrassed or angry about the photographic teasing if he knew. If he would be disgusted by Robby's inappropriate crush. It makes him cringe to think of Dennis finding out. Perhaps he should tell them to stop sending the pictures, but he doesn't. Can't quite address it directly because that would make it A Thing. 

It should be noted that Jack Abbot is suspiciously quiet during this whole pictorial onslaught. Though he's well aware of Robby's crush. In fact, Jack was the only person Robby openly spoke of Dennis to. Abbot sends no pics. Just a brotherly word or two, checking in around sunset each day. He thinks of calling Jack to say something about what the others are doing, find out if it's a prank, but just rehearsing the conversation in his mind is so awkward that he doesn't dare do it. 

After weeks of it, gradually, Robby starts to see how sweet all the messages really are. No one ever says "gotcha" or admits it's a gag. He begins to suspect it's not actually a joke, because people send him Dennis stories, too. They don't violate HIPAA by talking about the patients, but they all send little tales of Dennis's good deeds. His moments of kindness or brilliance. Robby comes to realize that it doesn't actually feel much like teasing, no one seems to be mocking either one of them. In fact, there's something endearing about the gesture.

To be known is to be loved, so people seeing his attraction to Dennis is maybe not such a bad thing after all? Perhaps this is their odd way of accepting and supporting him, inappropriate as it is to surveille his resident for him. 

They keep coming. Dennis petting a golden retriever on a coffeeshop patio. A slightly embarrassed Dennis appearing in one of Javadi's tiktoks. Dennis asleep on the too short sofa in the break room, a curling mustache drawn on his upper lip in what Robby hopes is eyeliner and not magic marker. Even Duke sends one, a shot of the two of them, both giving a thumbs up to the camera.

By the end of the second month, Robby has dozens of pics of Dennis saved to his phone, sent from atleast ten people. At that point, it feels a lot like they're all trying to lure Robby back home with adorable pictures of his favorite person. 

He starts to look forward to receiving them. Downloads each one that comes in. During lonely nights on the road, he looks through them all before sleep. The cowboy hat pic becomes his phone lock screen. Why not? There's no one out here to see it and tell on him. Or perhaps, because the "secret" is so obviously out now, he no longer feels ashamed of it, feels no need to keep hiding. There's still lingering guilt, because innocent Dennis has no idea.

But he does not turn the bike around and head home just yet. No, that comes after Jack finally sends his Dennis text. 

Jack begrudgingly accepts when someone offers to paint rainbows on his cheeks (he lowkey loves it) and Robby has the classic pride flag tote bag that at this point is old enough to vote and kinda crusty but Robby loves it and takes it out all the same because he’s sentimental like that

Jack puts all the stickers he gets on his tee and jeans looking like a human advertisement but Robby keeps them to throw into his keepsake box as memorabilia

they take lots of pictures ever year and Jack manages every time to find some baby queers with glitter (not that he’d ever admit he does it on purpose) so he ends up sparkly and looking like Edward Cullen in all of the pictures

Erika, referencing ebenezer scrooge: You, boy! What day is it?!

I love giving Santos the space to be pissed and terrified and worried for Dennis. She is so valid for that and Dennis is also valid for his response. As much as Santos is allowed to be worried for him, it is his life on the line and that of his alphas, so Den’s little snip back was warranted. Jesse’s truly an icon and i adore the way he’s just been present for Dennis, not asking anything and continuing to support him in his gay awakening and subsequent “deviancy”. Also Langdon better shape the hell up is2g, i hate him sometimes and i love that you make me hate him lmao. I’m so curious as to what Dana and Mel have to say in particular, Mel to Dennis and Dana to all three of our little fugitives.

I’m me however, and now I’m just wondering where Den is gonna get his suppressants. Did they bring some with them? I doubt it because of how turbo illegal they are, but if not, how long does Den have before they need to get some? I assume the Canadian government will have some kind of asylum program going on to help people fleeing from the US, but this is your wonderfully dystopian world so only you (and your partner i assume lol) know these things. I also hope Joy is alright, and if push comes to shove, Santos steps up to protect her.

Okay ooo wait here’s a lil dead bird that I just thought of with that last line, can alphas be infertile? Like I was thinking about if Joy and Santos had to bond to protect Joy, but then say they don’t have pups. It makes sense to me that just like irl men can have fertility struggles, so could an alpha of any gender. A thing to ponder I suppose!

I LOVE YOU AND YOUR MIND AND YOUR THOUGHTS, THANK YOU!!!

Alphas can definitely be infertile in this world.

It's not super common, I think in the same way that a barren Omega isn't very common, but when it happens, it definitely becomes a thing of shredded masculinity. Not being able to fulfil their biological purpose, kind of being seen as eunuchs in a way, like very emasculated.

You know how there's that epidemic of farmers who are about to lose their land, or are struggling big time, and they feel like they're failing their family line and their duty, and they kill themselves in droves? (That happens a lot in my country).

Like, imagine a post-series coup against Zuko being thwarted because the unopened, un-tampered-with, unintercepted letter correspondence between two conspirators was transported via a letter carrier boy who came within 20 feet of the Avatar’s earth bending teacher and she read it.