#This would be at the very beginning where Steph is still trying to gain his trust

[b-rainlet]

bestie i was ALSO thinking abt babysitter steph seducing jason...... so fuckin tastee -dick

Okay so this is neither thought through nor is it as tasty as it could be, but have it anyway (I imagine this is some sort of AU where Steph is older than Jay and kinda associates with Bruce outside of vigilante work? idk, like I said, not thought through).

@dubacheryking

The kid is scrawny, almost unhealthily so. 

“Nine,” Alfred had said, but looking at him, you could easily mistake him for a six year old, all wiry arms and jittering legs. 

He’s an anxious boy, easily spooked and Stephanie thinks it has something to do with the haunted look he has in his eyes, this shadow that’s following him around, making his shoulders hunch forward when she’s talking to him, his gaze flick away when she’s crouching down to be at eye-level with him. 

Like now. 

“It was an accident,” Stephanie says and normally she would reach out for him, put a comforting hand on top of his crossed arms, but somehow she has the feeling it wouldn’t work with this one, would only make Jason draw back even more. 

She’s gotta be cautious with him, Bruce had told her when she’d first been over to babysit, but even without his words she had known, one look at the kid had confirmed it. 

“I’m good at reading people,” she had soothed, had slipped on her brightest Steph smile before striding over to the living room, carefully settling down next to Jason on the carpet, mindful of the way Bruce was tracking her movements. 

Jason isn’t her first kid - he isn’t her only kid - but she had known back then already, had seen it in the way Jason startled when she moved too quickly, the way he scooched over when she leaned forward too far, but also the way a smile spread over his lips when she complimented him, small and fleeting but nonetheless there. 

This was a kid desperate for attention. A kid desperate for love. 

Her gaze flicks down to the remnants of the vase on the floor, the one Jason knocked over when he’d moved too quickly, stepped back instinctually when Stephanie had called for him. 

There’s something about Jason, something in the perpetual downturn of his mouth that tells Stephanie he knows about the things kids his age shouldn’t know about, the one thing every parent hoped they’d never have to explain to their child. 

It makes it harder for Stephanie to work with Jason - makes all their interactions tedious and drawn out like chewing gum - but after nearly two months of coming over regularly, even outside of her assigned babysitting nights, she’s pretty confident she’s got a handle on him. 

“Bruce…he’s gonna-” Jason doesn’t finish the thought, still stubbornly avoiding her gaze. Hiding from her. But Stephanie can see how his eyes fill with tears, how his lower lip starts wobbling until Jason bites down on it. 

That’s the thing with her newest kid - her newest project, really -, Jason is aware enough of all the dark things hiding in the corners of the world, he refuses to show weakness, even for a second. 

But that is also his mistake. 

Stephanie smiles at him - not a trademark Steph grin but something more settled, more reassuring. Motherly. 

Most kids like having Stephanie as their big sister, play pranks with her and be chased around the house by her until they are all out of breath giggles and tired limbs, have Steph hoist them up on her back or her shoulders, pulling at her hair to keep their hold. 

Not Jason. 

Jason needed something else, needed warmth and calmness and baby steps. 

Stephanie knows how to give him that. 

“How about I tell Bruce it was my fault?”

A sharp turn of his head, wide eyes staring at her in shock.

“You would do that?” There’s an angry tone to it, an indignance that should be funny coming out of the mouth of a nine year old. 

Stephanie never asked about Jason’s life before Bruce found him but she doesn’t need to. Kids like that, they’ve seen things. Done things. 

She nods, tries to sound as sincere as possible when she speaks: “Of course.”

Jason doesn’t like being touched - especially by men. He doesn’t trust easily - especially when it comes to Bruce and his reassurances that there’s no ulterior motive to taking Jason in. He doesn’t confide in anyone - especially not the two men living under the same roof as he does. 

Stephanie is no man. 

She leans forward conspiratorially, her smile turning just a smidge sharper at the corners. 

“It’ll be our secret, just between us. I wouldn’t want you to be in trouble, Jason, never.”

For a second she fears she’s been too forward, laid it on a little too thickly, but then Jason squints at her, as if assessing her and her words, and nods his head. 

“You’ll keep my secrets,” he starts, a stubborn glint in his eyes as if he’s challenging her, “and I’ll keep yours.”

The smile that spreads over Stephanie’s lips at his words isn’t calculated nor is it false. She considers him - all of him, head to toe, just for a second, indulging herself just for a glimpse of a moment - and she knows she’s got him. 

He’s gonna flower beautifully under her care. 

“That’s exactly how we’ll do it Jay.”

[samingtonwilson]

Mac and Cheese

Summary: Bucky takes the last box of frozen mac and cheese, takes your phone, and makes you fall in love with him. The audacity of that man.

Prompt: “This has been a very bad week and you just grabbed the last box of my favorite comfort food at the supermarket” 

Pairing: bucky x reader

a/n: i wrote this and was fully done formatting it and everything, like, 6 months ago. i didn’t post it because it’s approx. 82% nonsense but i figured why not post it now when it’s still 82% nonsense but im struggling to finish everything else. so taal, long time vegan, writes a story about mac and cheese and, listen, idk what this fic is either. can i write a fic without adding sam to it? no.

Mac and cheese. That’s all you want. Disgusting, frozen, usually-quite-mushy-if-not-microwaved-correctly mac and fucking cheese. 

The kind with the layer of cheese on top. The kind with that real elbow pasta, not rotini or penne or seashell pasta— real macaroni. The kind you try to only eat one serving size of before you eat everything in the package. The kind you always gravitate to when your eyes are stained red, swollen, and too proud to be anything other than dry.

You take the subway. You switch lines. You endure the smell of the F train during rush hour when you aren’t sure where your thigh ends and the thigh of the woman sitting beside you begins. All for that one Trader Joe’s, out of many, in Brooklyn the hipsters abandon before six because the coffee shop next door closes at five.

Your feet ache in your boots and you’re pretty sure a rock has somehow lodged itself between your toes, it’s starting to rain and you have no umbrella, you don’t think your throat has ever felt so parched. 

But you tuck your phone into your back pocket and march into that store with the hideous overhead lighting that makes your skin look like it hasn’t seen a bottle of toner in days like you’re Hades, the box of mac and cheese is Persephone, and Trader Joe’s is Mount Olympus.

You aren’t planning on smiling at anyone in greeting. You aren’t planning on making eye contact with anyone. You aren’t even planning on waiting politely behind whoever is inevitably idly standing in front of the pasta section of the frozen aisle— you’re going to say, “Excuse me.” Like the badass, New Yorker, on-the-verge-of-tears bitch you are and you’re going to toss that mac and cheese into your basket like you’re Steph Curry at the NBA Finals.

Lines are long when you walk in, cashiers bored-looking and tired. The produce section is a jungle of stay at home fathers and people who make their own pressed juice, the salad display a mess of college students trying to eat healthy. 

Your eyes accidentally meet those of a toddler who is slyly plucking a grape from a bag he had no intention of spending his allowance on and you smile.

You hold your basket like a designer handbag and dilly-dally only for a moment to pick up some yogurt for breakfast tomorrow. 

And some inauthentic babka because there’s no way in hell you’re going to endure Zabar’s after this. 

And a package of olive oil popcorn, a bottle of three dollar chardonnay, and string cheese. 

But that’s it. Self-control.

You feel the chill of the frozen aisle before you step into it. You feel the magnetic pull of that box with only one step in its direction. You stop for just a second to grab the mini mango and cream pops.

You almost roll your eyes to yourself when you see that someone is indeed standing right in front of the frozen selection of pasta. He’s staring at two boxes— a red one in his gloved left hand and the one in his right hand green.

As you grow closer you notice behind his curtain of dark hair that his eyebrows are knit together and he’s frowning at a decision he must be forcing himself to make. 

Sophie’s Choice, but involving mediocre excuses for Italian food and no Nazis— hopefully. Because who really knows these days?

He wears a forest green hoodie under a black leather jacket, black jeans tight around thick thighs. Boots, too. You think you might swoon.

And you wait behind him. You tap your foot, shift your weight, and chew on your bottom lip. You don’t say anything.

He looks over his shoulder when you curse under your breath and set the heavy basket at your feet. He’s apologetic— and handsome— by the looks of it, blue eyes slightly widened and lips downturned. “Shit,” he says as he takes a few steps to the right. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. You kick your basket with the toe of your boot until it lightly smacks against the bottom of the freezer. “No problem. It’s a big decision.”

His eyes lift from the boxes and he smiles. “Biggest one I’ve gotten to make in a while.”

Setting your hands atop the cold metal railing, you stare down into the freezer. You see farfalle with roasted tomatoes, rigatoni with pesto, ricotta and spinach ravioli, roasted vegetable lasagna, cauliflower gnocchi, chicken parm, and… an empty space. 

You tilt your head.

You lean away and crouch to read the description cards, looking for the bubble letters to tell you where on Earth your saving grace is. When you spot the card, you stand again. The indicated space is empty, your heart is empty, your will to live is—

A box of organic pesto tortellini is tossed back into the freezer and you look up. Your eyes might lose their prideful dryness at any moment, even in public next to that handsome stranger with the nice jacket and,

the box of mac and cheese.

You gasp audibly and leap backwards. You point at the box in his left hand.

With an expression of panic, he holds his hands— and the box— up in innocence. “It’s okay. I’m not—”

“What the fuck is that?” you shout to gain the attention of customers you don’t even perceive, waggling your finger at the box. Your wide-eyed stare, and bared teeth, and messy hair must be terrifying. You hope they are.

He looks down at his hand. An eyebrow lifts. And, confusedly, he asks, “The box?”

“Yes, the fucking box!”

“It’s mac and—” he meets your gaze again. You’re wearing your anger like armor. But you aren’t scared. Bucky thinks he might never have felt such relief at a woman’s anger. “It’s mac and cheese.”

You shake your head. Wildly. Your neck hurts. “It’s the last box of mac and cheese!”

He glances at the box, then back at you. He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “They might have some in the back—”

You shake your head again. A hint of devastation cracks your voice as you say, “It’s Monday night. Trader Joe’s restocks Tuesday night. This is usually all they have left.”

“I—” He pauses. “Is this shit really that good—”

“No, it’s not but that’s not the point!” you’re shouting again. And crying. Oh, God, you’re crying. In public. “The point is my building is going co-op!”

He tilts his head. “Your building is—”

“And I have to buy my apartment if I want to keep it! And they don’t give raises at my job to women unless they’re willing to suck something I won’t say in front of that kid right there,” you nod toward a little girl in a pink raincoat with her pin straight black hair in pigtails who stares at you in bewilderment. You sniffle. “So I quit. And I’m proud of myself for it. Because I have integrity, and I have self-respect, and I have no gag reflex, so the rejection should kill my boss dead.”

He cracks a small smile when you let out a short, watery, pathetic laugh. Easily, he holds the box out to you. “I hope your boss is dead, too.”

You laugh again and don’t hesitate before taking the box. You wipe your cheeks with your sleeve. “Thank you. You’re nice.”

“Not a popular opinion, but one I’ll certainly take.” He’s smiling and it’s warm. “Sorry— about all that.”

“You’re apologizing to me? I just screamed at you in the Trader Joe’s freezer aisle over mac and cheese.”

He shakes his head and picks up his own basket when you grab yours. “Your building’s going co-op and your boss deserves to burn in hell. You should get all the mac and cheese you want.”

You reach into the freezer for that green box of tortellini he’d thrown in, tossing it into his basket with a smile. Steph Curry at the NBA Finals. “Still. I’m sorry for yelling and I hope the tortellini doesn’t suck too bad.”

“It’s frozen pasta. My expectations are low.”

You hum a laugh and walk past him to the crowded lines at the registers. “As they should be.”

It’s when you’re lost in the sea of customers and Bucky is deciding between frozen palak paneer and frozen lamb vindaloo with basmati rice that he feels a tug at the hem of his jacket. 

He looks away from the green and orange boxes, lowering his gaze to meet curious almond-shaped eyes beneath blunt black bangs. He smiles and she returns it. “Yes?”

She reveals her right hand, which she had hidden behind her pink raincoat, and holds a phone up to Bucky as far as her arm will let her.

“Is that your phone?”

She shakes her head and giggles. Loud, happy, and squeaky. “Yelling lady dropped her phone.”

Bucky’s eyebrows knit together until a woman, much closer to his height, steps behind the little girl. She takes the phone the girl holds out and offers it to Bucky when he straightens his posture. Her smile looks like the little girl’s. “We figured you would have a good chance at getting it back to her.”

He takes the phone and nods his thanks. Pressing the power button reveals a picture of you and a dog, a large, fluffy dog with its pink tongue hanging low. You’re smiling brightly and, oddly, it seems like the dog is, too.

—

“So you just took her phone? Didn’t even ask an employee to keep it there in case she came back for it?”

Bucky, watching the tray of pasta rotate in the microwave, scowls. “I would’ve if I’d known that was an option. And stop eating my fuckin’ chips.”

Sam tosses back another handful of kettle-cooked barbecue potato chips in defiance so the obnoxious crunching echoes through the kitchen. He smiles sarcastically when Bucky snatches the bag and rolls it up. Half is already gone. “You come up with how you’re gonna get it back to her?”

“Thinkin’ about asking Pepper to post a picture of it like it’s a missing child to that ‘Tweeter’ nonsense,” Bucky replies dryly. He’s glaring at Sam as he leans his hip against the counter. “You and I both know I haven’t come up with shit.”

Sam snorts and is smiling in amusement, deep brown eyes alight. Bucky hates the sight. “Tweeter. You’re so fuckin’ old.”

It’s been hours since Bucky took the phone from who he learned is little Vivienne and her mother, and he is no closer to getting it back to you. 

He’d tried looking for you at the store but there were too many people for a Trader Joe’s that Yelp claimed was the least busy in New York for that to yield results. So he returned to the Tower. He thought about asking Tony to look into the doohickey but figured an invasion of privacy should be the last resort.

He pulls the tray from the microwave with nimble vibranium fingers and sniffs the pasta before setting it down on the counter. He removes a bowl from one of the cabinets and dumps the steaming pasta in it, a sprinkle of freshly grated parmesan from a tub he’d bought— also at Trader Joe’s— a finishing touch.

“She’s cute,” Sam says when the screen lights up with an incoming text notification.

Bucky spins his fork between his fingers as he walks around the counter to sit on the barstool beside Sam’s. He glances at the phone as well. “Very cute,” he agrees. “She had a shitty day. Something about her apartment goin’ co-op. Whatever the hell that means.”

Sam frowns. “Means she’s gotta buy the place. And with New York real estate prices right now,” he shakes his head with a sigh. “She better have a well-paying job.”

“Quit that today, too.” Bucky takes a bite of the pasta and hisses as it burns his tongue. “Boss is a creep that asked for some action in exchange for a raise.”

“Jesus. Poor girl.”

The tortellini isn’t great. It’s a little bland, a bit too dry, and there isn’t enough filling— but it’s better than Bucky had expected. He takes another bite. “Yeah. And I took the last box of mac and cheese. Which is what she went to the store for.”

“I’m surprised your head wasn’t chopped off.”

Bucky smiles. “She yelled— a lot. Was crying, too, ‘til she said something and made herself laugh.”

Sam then begins teasing Bucky juvenilely for having a crush until both men are laughing and shoving one another to see who falls off their stool first, Sam only relenting when Bucky hands the potato chips to him again as a peace offering.

The bowl is in the sink and the chips are down to just crumbs when a loud ringtone— an instrumental version of an R&B song Bucky recognizes from Sam’s many plays of the original— shocks the two of them.

It’s from an unknown number and Bucky is unsure if he should pick up until Sam swipes answer and puts the call on speakerphone. “Hello?”

A sigh. Bucky doesn’t know if it’s one of relief or frustration. “I’m hoping whoever this is found my phone and didn’t steal it.”  

Sam shoves Bucky’s shoulder with a toothy grin and Bucky rolls his eyes. “The little girl you almost traumatized in the freezer aisle found it and gave it to me.”

Another sigh— the relief in this one is obvious— and you’re laughing. “It’s you— tortellini dude. Must’ve fallen when I crouched down.”

“Seems like it, yeah.”

“So are you gonna ask for my address or do I have to schlep over to Avengers Tower?”

Bucky and Sam exchange a look. “Avengers Tower?”

“You weren’t exactly in disguise— I realized who you are the minute I left the store. Would’ve recognized you right away but I was in my own head and you aren’t my favorite Avenger.”

Bucky smiles. “Yeah? And who is?”

“Falcon.”

Immediately, the phone is taken from Bucky’s hand. “Hi, baby, you’ve got Falcon.”

A gasp, a pause, then you laugh. Audibly stunned laughter. “You guys actually hang out with each other? That’s cute.”

Before Sam can reply, Bucky flicks his forehead— in reply to which Sam elbows Bucky’s ribs— and takes the phone back. “I can bring your phone to you whenever you’re free.”

“Awesome. I’m unemployed now so any time tomorrow is fine.”

You tell him your address before hanging up and he wishes you a good night. Your laughter is the last thing he hears before three beeps signify the end of the call.

—

Bucky takes the subway. He switches lines to the F train. He tries not to mind the overpowering smell of stale B.O. and deli meat leftover from rush hour, the skittering steps of a rat across the floor in the adjacent empty car. He ignores those who stare at him intensely enough to burn the fabric right off his skin. All for that one apartment in SoHo.

He thinks the gash below his ribs might still be leaking as the warm, moist subway station air blows past him. He can feel that cluster of bruises above his knee— the one from the pipe the hostile operative had ripped off the rickety walls of a nearly destroyed Hydra base— every time he takes a step, more so as he climbs the stairs.

He knows he must be quite a sight with combat boots and tac pants worn and dusty, a simple bomber jacket thrown over a ripped, sliced, stained compression tank. His mind is blank, his eyes shadowy, the ghost of something terrible lurking behind blue and grey. 

Posture stiff and muscles cold, steps crisp despite the ache, he follows the familiar path and manages to form the thought of turning around. Not bringing this all to a threshold— or, more accurately, a windowsill— he’s only crossed three or four times. He’s too weak, though.

It takes one rap of his knuckles against the third-story window for a lamp to flicker on, gauzy drapes pushed aside. You smile as he lifts the window open, stepping aside as he enters the apartment with careful grace. He feels less guilty when he sees that your bed is still made and your hair isn’t the tangled mess it usually is when he bursts in at a late hour.

“I have a door.”

“Okay, show-off.”

It’s when he steps into the light of the standing lamp in the room’s corner that your quiet laughter gives way to a soft gasp. 

He doesn’t like the widening of your eyes or the way you gently lift the right side of his jacket, fingers light against the torn fabric. But you laugh again, and it shakes in nervousness. “You know I’m not a doctor, right? Or a nurse? Or even a pharmacist with high self-efficacy?”

He nods and, despite himself, there’s a smile pulling at a corner of his lips. His eyes brighten a little. “It’ll heal itself.”

“Confidence. I like that in a burglar.”

Before he can take a step further into your bedroom, you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and point at his feet. “Boots.”

He kicks them off with a sigh and a groan when the shifting of his knee sends a tremor up his leg. His jacket is tossed aside as well, and he catches the black t-shirt you throw to him. You’d washed it, folded it, and put it in your closet. 

Just a little more brightness. “You owe me mac and cheese.”

“Oh, I owe you mac and cheese? We’re really holding onto shit from four months ago?”

He nods again and pulls his tank off, withholding a wince.

Eyebrow raised, you cross your arms over your chest. You’re giving him a narrow look but, because you’re clearly struggling against a smile, it’s one of his favorites of the expressions you’ve ever offered him. 

You give him a towel next— pastel blue. “Shower and then we’ll see about me owing you something.”

He wants to say thank you, do more than smile. 

But he knows if he so much as opens his mouth while you’re looking at him the way you are, he’ll tell you he’s fallen in love with you over the last four months, that maybe he’s been in love since you screamed at him in the freezer section of Trade Joe’s. 

He’ll go to say thank you, but the words of a Byron poem he’d learned to impress a girl in his English class more than eighty years ago will come pouring out or he’ll simply kiss you like he wishes he could on the nights he can’t sleep or during the missions he can just barely endure. 

He’ll go to say thank you, and then tell you with no clarity whatsoever that you’re what he finds comfort in when he’s had a hard day. That the disgusting, mushy, nothing-compared-to-fresh mac and cheese is just an excuse.

But he just smiles. And nods. And takes a shower.

His hair is still wet as he stands across from you at the kitchen counter. There’s a bowl of steaming pasta between you, a spoon in his hand and a fork in yours. “You’re dripping onto the counter.”

With a cocking of his eyebrow, he shakes his head and you sputter a laugh, shoving his shoulder. “Bucky!”

He laughs then, fully and happily, as he reaches over to wipe the drops from your cheeks and forehead. You only smile back, the gleaming of your eyes making him feel warm all over.

“This shit’s terrible, by the way,” he says after a minute of staring.

You shrug a shoulder. “Told you.”

“And you fought me for it. Publicly.”

You shrug again and laugh. You lean your elbows atop the counter to match his relaxed posture, dragging a noodle through a particularly large puddle of melted cheese. 

Looking up, your nose nearly bumps Bucky’s and you hope he doesn’t hear your breath stall. You try to smile. “Makes me feel better when I need to fill that hole in my heart.”

“With cholesterol?” he jokes.

“Yes. It’s excellent. It’s like spackle.” As he laughs and you roll your eyes, you push off the counter to stand straight. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Yeah?”

You hum. “I’m seeing an apartment I want tomorrow and need the rent lowered. And you’re the Winter Soldier.”

He considers that for a moment and you burst into laughter just as his eyes narrow into a fond glare. “You want me to scare them into lowering the rent?”

“Don’t think of it as you scaring them,” you begin, rounding the counter to stand next to him, hip leant against the marble, “think of it as you being an amazing friend and helping me.” A moment later you add, “By scaring them.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. He glances at the bowl to avoid the risk of staring at you for too long. “Fine.”

You grin. “You really take no convincing.”

A snort and he meets your gaze. “Only when it comes to you. I’m afraid you’ll start crying again.”

“So I could ask you for anything and you’d probably say yes?”

He shrugs a bit, then nods. Who is he kidding? You could ask for his right arm and he’d give it to you.

“Okay. Go on a date with me then.”

There’s a pause— in the conversation, in his chest. “A what?”

“A date. It’s like dinner, or coffee, or a movie, or something.” You grin when he takes half a step in your direction and his hands grip onto the counter at either side of you. “It’s this thing people do when they like each other.”

Something much more than like is in the sparkling of your eyes and the tilt of your head. Something that might match exactly what’s in his eyes whenever he’s around you. His insides burn at the thought.

“I know what a date is.”

“They had those back in your day?”

He nods and leans forward. “Not from the Stone Ages.”

Your lips brush lightly against his, hand set on his chest to feel the rapid beating beneath. You smile and he thinks he might melt. “Could’ve fooled me with that hair.”

Laughing, he presses his lips to yours a little harder.

—

Apartment littered with unpacked boxes, misplaced books, and askew furniture, you sit on top of the counter where Bucky works. He’s twirling a knife through his metal fingers, arranging sprigs of chives on the cutting board with the flesh ones. 

He smiles when he catches you staring at the pan cooling on the stove. “S’not done yet.”

You sigh. Loudly, heavily. “You took it out of the oven. That means it’s done.”

“It needs to cool for a few minutes or you’ll burn off your taste buds. You want to burn off your taste buds?”

“You want to burn off your taste buds?” you repeat in a high-pitched, taunting voice. You’re scowling and, somehow, look to be on the verge of snatching the knife from him to stab it through his chest. “Maybe I do.”

Less than a minute later, you groan and add, “I don’t care how good you are in bed. I’m about ten seconds from dumping you.”

Swiftly, he chops the chives and turns around to sprinkle a bit into the baking dish. “You know, most people would say thank you.”

“Most people don’t have to wait an hour while their boyfriend attempts to make mac and cheese when there’s a perfectly good box in the freezer that would take four minutes.”

“It’s worth it.”

In all honesty, he doesn’t know if it’s worth it. 

He’d asked Sam for a recipe and did his best to follow it despite the autocorrect which had changed “gruyere” to “grape year.” But he trusts it since Sam generally knows what he’s doing in the kitchen. Unlike Steve who had continuously attempted to chime in with useless suggestions such as, “Maybe don’t add the paprika.”

“Just trust me,” he urges as if replying to the growling of your stomach which has interrupted his search for the plates he could’ve sworn he’d unpacked. He’s crouched and searching the lower cabinets as he adds, “You’ll fall in love with me after you try it.” 

“Who says I haven’t already?” 

He stops searching.

He peeks his head above the edge of the counter and, his eyes wide, he sees you pulling two plates from a box placed on the small nook table. Your smile is small and a bit sheepish— the latter something he’d never seen from you. 

“You never took them out,” you tell him, the clatter of ceramic on the wooden surface loud when you set the plates down. As you approach and he stands to his full height, you sigh and roll your eyes at the look he gives you. “Yes, I love you. It can’t be that shocking.”

“It isn’t.” 

“Someone should tell your face that.”

Chuckling over the heavy thumps in his chest, he leans forward to kiss you but pauses just to say, “I love you, too, by the way.” 

When an empty dish sits between the two of you, Bucky’s stomach warm and full of over three-quarters of it, you stand from the table and walk to the freezer. 

Shooting a smile over your shoulder, you grab the familiar red box and toss it into the stainless steel trash can. Steph Curry at the NBA Finals. “I’m never eating that shit again.”

[cringeyvanillamilk]

☕️ Steph, my good clown, can I get your sexy opinion on your favorite battles in the shonen series (plural) that you have read/watched?

The clown has arrived with her answer! Thank you for such an interesting topic! It was hard picking out my top 3 favorites since a lot of my favorites are great in their own right, but I think I’m satisfied with what I chose.

For anyone who’s interested, here are my other favorite shounen battles that sadly did not make it to the top 3:

Itadori and Nobara vs. Curse brothers (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Maki vs. Mai (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Gon vs. Pitou (Hunter x Hunter)

Deku vs. Muscular (Boku no Hero Academia)

All Might vs. All for One (Boku no Hero Academia)

Luffy vs. Usopp (One Piece)

Gaara vs. Rock Lee (Naruto)

Zenitsu vs. Spider Brother (Kimetsu no Yaiba)

Tanjirou vs. Rui (Kimetsu no Yaiba)

Now let’s get to my top 3 favorite shounen battles! (Under the cut!)

3. Maki vs. Miwa (Jujutsu Kaisen)

For my third favorite shounen battle, I chose the fight between Maki and Miwa during the Kyoto Goodwill Event Arc! What I like most about this fight was the set up, spectacular choreography, and interesting characterization.

Before jumping into the fight, we are introduced to Miwa and Mai talking about Maki’s strength as a Jujutsu sorcerer. Here, Mai is downplaying Maki’s ability to fight which leads Miwa to underestimate Maki as a result. We then cut to Miwa being absolutely overwhelmed by Maki’s attacks. This short setup helped give impact to Maki’s true strength and abilities to not only Miwa, but the audience as well. The fake out was a nice surprise since we haven’t seen Maki fight thus far.

The choreography throughout the entire fight was absolutely marvelous. The use of perspective and slow-motion helped give certain attacks more weight as well as how the attacks look in a first-person perspective. We not only see how overwhelmed Miwa was, but also how focused and ruthless Maki can be. Despite Miwa being an antagonist due to her team’s order to kill Itadori, I find it amusing that we the audience end up sympathizing with Miwa in the end.

I also liked how the environment was used during the fight. The transition from the forest to the small stream down below when Maki literally kicked Miwa off a cliff was a nice change of scenery. The visuals of the water due to the character’s movement and weight was also a nice detail. I won’t be surprised if all the budget went into the water effects.

The fight between Maki and Miwa was incredibly one-sided where Maki seemed to have the upper hand for most of the fight and Miwa had no choice but to be on the defense. We can see how overwhelmed Miwa was due to underestimating Maki from the beginning. If Miwa was warned ahead of time, she may have had a better chance of standing against Maki. However, due to her trust over her teammate’s words, she ended up being blind-sighted. I really enjoyed being inside Miwa’s head for the majority of the fight. We can tell that Miwa is doing the best of her abilities, but just can’t beat Maki’s talent and quick instinct. The fight overall highlight’s Miwa’s weakness of overthinking her next move. We only heard Maki’s thinking process briefly after Miwa activated her simple domain, but she’s very quick to adapt and be unpredictable. The characterization in this small fight was very fun to watch!

Overall, this may be a small-scale fight in comparison to other major ones within the anime and manga, but that doesn’t mean it should be overlooked. Having a grand spectacle of a fight doesn’t make it the “best fight”. Sometimes, a short, but well-choreographed fight that makes good use of the environment can go a long way for me.

2. The Black Bulls vs. Vetto (Black Clover)

For my second favorite battle in shounen, I chose the black bulls vs. Vetto during the Water Temple arc. I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t watch enough shounen anime, but I felt like this was the first battle where a group of characters worked together to defeat an antagonist. I’m just so used to watching 1v1s, or if we’re really stretching it 2v1s, in shounen that seeing an actual group use teamwork was very refreshing for me to watch. Something to note about the difference in the manga and anime was that while the final battle against Vetto within the anime had Gauche, Charmy, and Grey join in, in the manga it was mainly Asta, Finral, and Vanessa. Despite the small difference, the fact that most of the members of the Black Bulls took a chance to fight Vetto and showcased their fighting abilities was a sight to see.

Before we get to the final fight against Vetto, if we don’t count Yami’s finishing blow at the very end, I really enjoyed Luck, Magna, and most especially Noelle’s attack. I liked how we got to see each character use their strongest attack and the unpredictability of who’s going to finish Vetto off throughout the fight. I was hype seeing Luck and Magna’s combo magic for the first time, but was surprised to see how ineffective it was to Vetto. This helped give us an idea of the power difference a normal magic knight may have in opposition to an eye of the midnight sun, which is why when Noelle gained an attack spell, Sea Dragon’s Roar, and did the most damage to Vetto, that basically hinted the potential Noelle has as a strong magic knight. But surprisingly, Noelle’s attack wasn’t the climax of the fight because that’s when Asta, Finral, and Vanessa joined in and worked together against Vetto. Now it was this specific teamwork that really made it for me.

What I love most about this team dynamic was how each of them had a significant role in winning the fight. Asta had the physical strength and most offensive attacks, Vanessa’s string magic helped propel Asta into any direction, and Finral’s spatial magic was utilized to transport Asta in any location. Both Vanessa and Finral helped give Asta the upper hand by making his attacks more unpredictable and adaptive to Vetto’s animalistic magic. It was impressive seeing Asta attack Vetto in different directions and dodging his attacks. But just when we thought they had a chance of defeating Vetto, he became a much bigger threat when he began to read through their attacks and successfully caught and broke Asta’s arms. And just when we think that Asta can’t fight without his arms, Asta reinforces his schtick of not giving up, igniting hope into his teammates. And with their final push and hint towards Asta’s devil powers, Vetto was finally defeated thanks to their determination and teamwork!

This fight had a nice combination of surprise, hope, and despair! But what makes this my second favorite fight was solely because of how each of the members had a moment to shine within the fight. There wasn’t an instance where a character was just watching and that makes me very happy! An overall great fight in Black Clover!

1. Gon vs. Hisoka (Hunter x Hunter)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Txl2imn11bM&ab_channel=CrunchyrollCollection

For my ultimate favorite shounen battle, I chose Gon vs Hisoka from the Heavens Arena arc. If there’s one word to describe this fight, it would be “tension”. What I liked most about the beginning of this fight was how no word of dialogue was exchanged between the characters. The background music was ambient with most of the attention given to the sound of movement and grunts, which only makes you feel tense throughout the exchange.

In this particular fight, Gon was very quick and light on his feet while fighting Hisoka. There were even moments where it looked like he was levitating for a few seconds when throwing punches at Hisoka which shows how fast his attacks were. I liked how we see Gon’s thought process through his actions where he’d try multiple strategies to attack Hisoka. At first, he would try and do a barrage of punches towards Hisoka’s face, but then gain some distance when his attacks fail and then face Hisoka head on again. And while Gon is struggling to get the first hit, Hisoka is just observing Gon with a smile on his face and enjoying every bit of it. And it wasn’t until Hisoka surprised Gon with a punch that we finally took a breather. It was an intense fight right off the bat!

But my enjoyment of the fight doesn’t stop there. During the first exchanges within the fight, Gon’s attempts were very straightforward and relied mostly on his strength. But during their second exchange, we can see that Gon learned from his prior attempt and decided to use his wits. Instead of attacking Hisoka head first, he cleverly used his environment to gain the upper hand and finally punched Hisoka in the face! Hisoka may have underestimated Gon from the beginning, but I still thought it was amazing how Gon managed to pull that off! I’m going to be honest, I was not expecting Gon to actually be strategic and pull out the tiles off the floor to block Hisoka’s sight. It was so satisfying to see this type of development from him which makes it a highlight of this fight.

Honestly, this was this part of the fight that makes this my ultimate favorite, but that doesn’t mean what happens afterwards was nothing interesting. Hisoka’s nen abilities were very fun to watch and very unpredictable! I feel like Gon was meant to lose from the start since Hisoka’s fighting style is very adaptive against Gon’s more simple approach. Overall, an amazing fight! I highly recommend watching the fight for yourself!

[peppersonironi]

How I Picture a Batfam Age Reversal

I’m going to write this as a fic (And I want to go on into a young justice world where dick forms the team and his siblings are protective) but here is the outline in bullet points in case anyone is interested. Please note this is VERY first draft.

Ages (At end) & Order:

Damian- 24

Duke- 21

Stephanie- 20

Tim- 21

Cassandra- 19

Jason- 19

Barbara- 15

Dick- 13

Damian is Ten when he is sent to live w/ his father. Bruce is 30.

They don’t really work well together at first. But Selina, Alfred, and Clark somehow get it through Bruce’s thick skull that he has to care for this child.

Damian keeps sneaking out on patrol, against B’s wishes. Eventually, he let’s Damian join and tells him to choose a name (Not what we meant, Bruce!)

Damian wants to go for something like Shadow, or Demon, but Bruce puts his foot down. He says that Damian shouldn’t try to be darkness.

Damian is pouting in the gardens when he finds a wounded robin. It’s wing is broken. He demands that the animal should be taken to a shelter, and carries it in his hand the whole way there.

The bird makes it, and Damian demands to be called Robin. He designs his suit, going slightly more colorful. “I might be called Robin, but I am NOT wearing brown, Pennyworth.”

Bruce introduces him to Superboy (Jon, note: less age dif) and the pair are close friends.

He is Robin for a little over seven years before he begins to fight with Bruce about being allowed to patrol alone, and being his own hero. (basically what happened w/ Dick).

Damian leaves Gotham, opting to claim Bludhaven. Jon joins him. He suggests they call each other Nightwing and Flamebird. Damian thinks it’s a bit childish, but he can’t say no to Jon. They’re costumes are here. (done by @hyperactive-lectiophile! Fantastic job!)

They eventually realize they’re in love w/ each other, all while trying to figure their lives  out. Damian briefly tries to join the police. He hates it. Eventually, he enrolls in BH college for a major in Art and a minor in business.

Later in Gotham, the We Are Robin/Robin War stuff happens. Long story short, Duke is adopted. 

Damian is angry to find out he has a new brother, goes to Gotham to yell at Bruce, but then meets Duke. They bond, and are close siblings. Damian makes his father promise to not adopt any more strays.

Stephanie Brown wants to stop her Father, so she sews up a costume and goes out as Batgirl. Bruce is apprehensive at first, but his family basically yells at him to train the poor girl before she gets hurt.

He does, and after Steph meets Damian, who she absolutely adores (He loves her too. The way she pisses his father off is legendary), Stephanie decides she wants to be Robin. Batgirl was good for dealing with her father, but she wants to belong to this new family, and, w/ Damian’s blessing, she makes a new costume.

Unfortunately, after a while, Stephanie is killed by Black Mask (her death is faked, like in the comics, but the Fam doesn’t know)

Enter Tim Drake. Batman has been going crazy over grief, and not even Nightwing, Catwoman (this is SOOOO batcat, btw) or The Signal can calm him down. Tim steps right up, and demands to be robin.

Damian and Bruce fight over this. Surprisingly, Damian is the one who thinks Tim should be given a chance. He sees how his father has been acting. Damian knows that Tim must be brilliant to figure out their identities, and thinks that should count for something. Duke takes his side, knowing that it takes guts to talk to batman, and be willing to join him. Bruce, meanwhile, is a constant chant of “no more dead robins”. After a while, and lots of arguing, Tim takes his place as Robin. They redesign the suit, and he takes his place as robin.

It’s little while after this that Stephanie comes back. Tim offers Robin back, but Stephanie declines. They talk and grow closer. At one point they talk about Stephanie’s new moniker. She says she doesn’t want to be Batgirl either. She wants something new. Tim suggests Spoiler (Bad pun turned brilliant idea?).

Cassandra Cain arrives on the scene next. She saves the commissioner’s life (like No Man’s Land, minus No Man’s Land), and Stephanie immediately imprints on this tiny assassin child (So do the rest of the family, but Steph claims the fourteen-year old first. She and Bruce fight over custody.). She offers Cass Batgirl. Gotham gained a new vigilante, and Bruce Wayne adopted a new child. (Faster than the comics, I KNOW. But Cass deserves happiness)

Everyone loves their new sister, and everyone spoils her. Duke is the one to take her to a ballet the first time. She immediately begs to be put into lessons.

Somewhere in here Tim’s mom dies and his dad is in a coma. Bruce takes him in.

Eventually, Bruce decides to offer Tim Red Robin, hoping to avoid the strife he had with Damian. (Like in the comics, Bruce was going to give Jason Red Robin)

Tim is unsure of this, and puts off deciding. Then little Jason Peter Todd decides to jack the tires of the batmobile and is immediately taken in.

Everyone is captivated by the tiniest addition to their family, but it's also at this time that Jack Drake finds out about Robin and forces Tim to quit. Tim gives Jason his blessing to become Robin.

Everyone pitches in on helping train the newest Robin. Damian teaches the kid things he learned from the league (non-lethal things, since Damian loves this kid), Duke teaches him escrima fighting, Stephanie (Much to Bruce’s dismay) has a full seminar of the delicacies of glitter bomb making. Tim teaches the kid hacking, when he can get away from his dad. 

Unfortunately, when Jason has been Robin for almost a year, he is killed by the Joker.

The family is torn apart by greif. But this time around, Bruce has a much larger support system. All of them lean on each other.

The only time that Damian ever broke his no-kill rule while living with his father was to kill the Joker. He hunted and murdered the clown, sparing Harley. He had been friends with Quinzel since he was Robin, and knew how the Joker treated her. Harley became the batfam’s honorary aunt after this.

Bruce was too emotionally tired to fight with Damian over his actions, so no one said anything. Eventually, Bruce and Damian did argue. Damian refused to apologize,, though he did promise his father to never kill again. Their relationship was strained for a while, but they worked through it.

Less than a year later, Jack Drake dies, and Tim comes back onto the vigilante scene. He refuses to become Robin, however, choosing to take Bruce up on his offer and become Red Robin. He designs his own suit, and the world seems to slowly become normal. Or some semblance of it.

One night, the circus is in town and the whole family (except Alfred) is home. Duke, Tim, and Steph drag Bruce, Cass, and Damian to go see it.

It is on this night that Dick Grayson’s parents fall to their death. Dick is sent to live in juvi, meanwhile Bruce tries to adopt Dick. He succeeds, and the manor once again has a bright young child running through it’s halls.

Dick figures out the secret identities of his family and instantly demands to be allowed out. He wants to take down Zucko, and won’t settle for every single member hunting for him. Dick wants to take down his parent’s murdered himself. He tries to sneak out multiple times, but is always stopped.

Damian talks to Dick (They are extremely close) and explains the origins of Robin. He says that the mantle was born out of a want to distance himself from the revenge and violence of the league. Dick cries when he learns this and says that his own parents used to call him Robin. He suggests that the mantle is more than a personal need. Robin is Family.

Damian almost immediately demands that Dick be trained and help catch Zucko. Bruce is confused, as before, Damian was strongly against letting a nine-year-old fight crime. Damian explains (after much cajoling. He might be more emotionally open and healthy than when he first arrived in the manor, but the kid is still constipated) what Dick had said, and that Damian understands the kid’s need for direction. “When I first came here, I needed Robin. I might not have known it, but I did. Richard needs Robin now, as well.”

The family took sides on the issue, but eventually Dick (with the aid of his puppy-dog-eyes™) won everyone over. He got his own Robin costume, and they caught Zucko.

Dick refused to stop being Robin, and so Gotham gained a new bird.

Dick was Robin for almost two years when The Red Hood made his appearance in Gotham. No one knew what he wanted, as he didn’t seem to do much beyond killing criminals. They thought he was a vigilante at first, but then he began to take over the criminal underbelly of Gotham, regulating crime. On top of that, Red Hood targeted Robin. Attacking the boy wonder when no one else was around. After the red helmeted rogue let loose a few hints about the league of shadows, Damian interrogated his mother, who explained the identity of The Red Hood, and how she had set him on Gotham.

As soon as the family figured out the newcomer’s identity, and the reason he was alive Damian tracked him down. He knew how to deal with pit rage from his childhood, and brought the lost bird back to the nest.

The family was whole for the first time in years. Jason was still angry and resentful, but he had his family back. Jason was grateful for Damian taking revenge for him, and they were once again close. 

Slowly, Jason let everyone back in, including Bruce. Dick is wary at first of this new older brother, but the little chicken nugget quickly warms up to Jason, and even convinces him to teach him how to shoot a gun (In secret, of course, Dami and Bruce would blow a gasket). Jason couldn’t resist the kid. It was physically impossible.

A year later, Cass decides to pursue dance as her career. She gets a job with the Hong Kong Ballet company. She moves there, and decides to take a new moniker: Black Bat. Her family is so proud of her, but they miss her dearly. Duke visits often, bringing new back to the family.

The absence of Batgirl is filled after a while by Barbara Gordan. She makes her own costume and starts going out. Once again, Stephanie Brown adopts a smol bean (Well, not legally. The commissioner is still alive) and outfits her with a more Gotham-friendly suit and weaponry (I.e. heavy kevlar and leather)

Babs is taken whole-heartedly into the fold, and is made an honorary sister.

[bluboothalassophile]

Damned Prince Of Gotham

Hello,

Due to the requests for Athanasia, Damian, Jason bonding I have been spurred into showing the first chapter of Damned Prince of Gotham.

When forces at play behind the scenes rear their ugly heads, of course they come in the form of Jason’s past. And of fucking course it won’t just stay in the closet with the rest of his fucking skeletons.

Ghosts Amongst the Living...

It was just after Thanksgiving, he had managed to survive PT, and no longer needed the fucking cane. Though Alfred had been kind enough to find him a cool cane with a sword in it. And the bigger bonus, he no longer needed his leg brace.

That was what brought him here.

It was the first time since her funeral he had come here. It was nice, quaint, peaceful, everything Gotham couldn’t be. Her grave marker was simple, how she’d have wanted it.

Rachel Roth, Beloved Daughter, Fearless Sister, Loyalist of Friends.

Slowly he crouched down, the flowers in his hand felt heavier. He saw that Ivy had planted a beautiful set of flowers here, something rare, and the gravesite was cared for. His leg was throbbing in protest, but he didn’t care about that, feeling the Pit burn through him in an attempt to heal him.

“Hey, been a while, little bird,” he whispered looking around the graveyard. “I’ll be honest, not really my scene, but you know me, going to go out in a blaze of glory, getting cremated the second time around but maybe they’ll lay those ashes here. You’d like it. It’s still, almost eerie, but in a peaceful sort of way.

“I survived Joker, killed the fucker. B’s pissed about that, but it helps Alina sleep at night. You know, Alina, B’s bastard daughter, she’s a sweetheart, her mom tried to keep her out of the Bat bullshit, which is fair. Her mom’s dead, OD on Joker gas, Cat and B took Alina in.

“Kori was murdered, it’s fucked up Dick. He’s got Jake, but it’s really fucked him up, Rae. He won’t even look at Jake, or Mar'i, and honestly, none of us know what to do. I didn’t think he was a drinker, I never thought that would be his poison, but he is, and god knows what else he’s doing, he’s not good Rae. And if you’re in touch with Kori I ask you to send her his way. I know it’s not fair, you’re at peace and all, but anything helps.

“Other than that, not a whole hell of a lot is happening here with us living folks. I miss you,” he said as he stared around them. “I miss you Rae. It’s nice, Roy, Biz, Kyle and Arty, they try. Never had friends who were so stubborn to cling on, but they just aren’t you. They aren’t you. And it’s not fucking fair you got to die and left me here,” he snapped. “I can’t even be mad at you about that because we were saving Mar'i, but goddamn it, it’s not fucking fair. Damn demon.

“And it’s really not fair I miss you; you were a pain in my ass. Don’t get me wrong, you were the Queen, but life was so much easier before you went about dragging me back to the land of the living. Now I can’t escape my siblings, and I watched the entire series of Game of Thrones. I blame you for that,” he warned her. “It was great, I started the books, but then I saw the last season, and Thank God you’re dead Rae, because it was awful. I don’t even get where the writers took that, it wasn’t good at all, and it… death is a mercy to watching that. And yes, I binged with the Replacement, Steph and Cass; in my defense I was on pain killers and on bed rest.

“I saw an advertisement for a Netflix show, looks very promising and interesting, but after Game of Thrones I hesitate to watch the genre. I think I should just stick to Jack Ryan; I binged that with the kiddies. Violet little blood suckers the lot of them. I mean seriously, Terry and Helena somehow talked me into letting them watch Bosch, Jack Ryan and Law & Order and shit like that with me, and B caught us, suffice to say we were all grounded, but then we did again. Being stuck in a bed sucks Rae.”

There was a snap which had his head snapping up, and he saw her duck behind a headstone.

“And also, little bird, they won’t leave me alone, I feel like a duck with a trail of ducklings. Over here Alina,” he called out. The small girl stepped out; he smiled a bit at her as he rolled to his feet. His leg screamed in protest. “Come meet little bird,” he said.

“I…I don’t want to intrude,” she said.

“You’re already here pipsqueak, might as well say hi to the reason we escaped the Joker,” he said and offered the twelve-year-old his hand. Alina hesitated but she darted up and accept it. “Alina this is Raven. Rae this is my newest of siblings,” he said.

“Hi,” Alina said softly. She was so shy and gentle, he wondered how the hell she could be B’s, but she was a Bat, he remembered that with how she had poisoned Joker. “You talk to her?”

“All the time. It’s a one-sided conversation, isn’t too different from when she was here.” True he and Rae bantered, and could have conversations, but for shit like this, she’d just let him talk. “She’s my best friend, Alina. I’ll always talk to her.”

“I talk to my mom,” Alina admitted. “And Mar'i talks to Kori. Is it normal?”

“Normal?” he snorted. “Is it normal, Rae? No, probably not, not to this degree, but Alina, we’re Bats, normal flew out the window. And you’ll find that as life goes on, there’s people you’ll want in your life and they’re the people you want to talk to. And Raven was my person, I’ll never stop wanting to talk to her.”

“You seem sure about that,” Alina said.

“Yeah, I am sure of it,” he smiled tightly. “I’ll see you around little bird.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Alina said to the grave. Jason offered Alina his hand again and they carefully navigated their way to where he had his car.

“How’d you get here?” he asked.

“Uber.”

~~~*~*~*~~~

She sat there in her warehouse typing code, as she studied the research of her current contract. It was about an AI program called Brainiac, she was employed with retrieving and destroying. Her cropped hair was ruffled in the slight breeze of her drafty hide out. She had settled in Stockholm off the grid from her grandfather’s grasp since Jason had helped her escape the League. She went by Lisbeth Head, it was a safe alias, one she created because of her favorite books, and because it was safe.

She had gone to Europe rather than America, it would be easier to hide if she was not worried about Bats noticing her. True she kept her identity to herself, and the only two who had met her didn’t know who she truly was.

She had altered her appearance since her escape, true she had drawn inspiration from her favorite books, the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, but initially it was because she was young and the impression it had hit her with was inescapable. Now it was because this look was the one she found worked for her. She looked intimidating without attracting too much attention and in many places she blended in. Short cropped hair, and piercings did so much to hide her, and the tattoos were a bonus; Ra’s had never come looking for her though.

Still, her vigilance was high.

One of her alarms sounded which had her looking over at her security monitors. Tearing her attention away from her work she studied her empty security monitors for the threat, slowly pulling away from her chess game with c4ff1n4t3dR3 as her hand picked up her glock. Eyes scanning over her monitor she tensed when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up which had her turning around as she turned off the power of her hide out and secured her workstation before exiting the area.

“You got comfortable,” a voice sneered, and she kept closer to the shadows.

“Been a long while Athanasia, or is it Lisbeth now?” he demanded.

She slid low, keeping silent.

“Mmm, still not talkative, thought that’d change,” he grumbled. Her heart was slamming mercilessly in her ribs as she scanned her warehouse for him. “Still doesn’t fucking matter,” he growled, she shot up where his voice had come over her and stood, spinning as she shot at him, moving back, grabbing a knife.

“Still have that hair trigger, babe!” he jeered, she was prepared.

She stood there in the dim light filtering into her apartment.

“Fuck you’re hot, but I’m here on business,” he snarled, she didn’t see him but she felt the hit on the back of her head which had her world disappearing as she crumpled to the ground. “Not fucking pleasure.”

~~~*~*~*~~~

He walked past his downed slave and straight to her work station. Breaking into it would’ve been tricky but the Light had seen to it he’d have the needed Skeleton Key. He didn’t spare Athanasia a glance, he had always had her as his shadow and companion until she took his eye in her escape from the League of Assassins. That fucking slave had interfered, and Grant remembered seeing red until he was down in the sand and about to be killed by the SOB. Of course no one killed that slave, and no one chased his slave, Athanasia, no one cared about them. They were slaves. Defective to begin with.

Still, he was pissed that she had run and hidden herself from him.

Athanasia had been his favorite pleasure slave, she always was a bitch to put up a fight.

No matter, he walked into her little room and saw her computers, working quickly he went for what he had been ordered to get. The program AI, he was aware he was stealing it from the theif who had stolen it from New Krypton. The Light wanted assassins and to do that his employer had to gain their favor before his rivals’ could make their moves. The League of Assassins wasn’t what it used to be, fracturing drastically with the death of Ra’s al Ghul.

The different fractions followed the different children of Ra’s.

“Is it done yet?” an impatient graveled voice demanded over the intercom.

“Almost,” he said.

“Hurry up.”

“Patience, Demon’s Thumb,” he warned.

“Father has no more patience,” she snapped.

“I got it, and extra information.”

“Destroy everything that remains, and dispose of the Failure.”

~~~*~*~*~~~

He lay alone in his bed in his warehouse, a huge bed and he couldn’t fucking sleep. He couldn’t even close his eyes.

Jason no longer had nightmares about his coffin or his death, or anything in his past, but he always saw them. He’d see her falling, her golden hair everywhere as the blood splattered from the impacts of the shots while she fell back and he struggled to get to her. Then he’d feel something colliding in him, larger and harder than a bullet, as a force moved him aside and he’d twist around in time to see Raven, her black hair flowing and her four eyes open to focus on saving, her soul was already attacking an armada and he saw the knife hit the side of her ribs, shoving her off her course, knocking her down as her body rolled from the impact, and he’d see Ryand’r there.

He couldn’t sleep.

All that blood, she was so small, she rarely bled, and there was so much blood. He could see them both, as one, Isobel and Raven, laying there, in near identical positions, their hands curled, and their hair fanned around them as they both lay there in a pool of blood, and he couldn’t sense their lives.

In the dreams Raven and Isobel were one in the same, some twisted mix of both them laying there, showing him the price of his failure.

He couldn’t sleep.

Sleep, Raven’s voice whispered in his ear, he could swear she was right there as he gave in and closed his eyes.

[d3-iseefire]

Beneath the Surface Chapter 2

I was going to post the rest on AO3 and send you all there but I changed my mind, partly cause I like this mood board and wanted to use it again. :D :D

Chapter 2

Bilba sat on the windowsill and stared dully through the dirty panes. It was a brilliant spring day, with a crystal-clear blue sky and a bright sun.

Down below she could see the younger kids running about, playing tag or building forts out of old cardboard boxes. One of the older girls was seated on the tree swing, reading a book, while others from the older set were playing on bikes or skateboards.

Bilba knew dimly that she should be out there with them. Some of the kids had even invited her to go play, and her foster mother had been up three times to encourage her to go outside.

As if any of them actually cared. They hadn’t worried when she’d been gone for weeks, hadn’t batted an eye when she’d returned. Now, suddenly, she was expected to believe they cared whether or not she left her room?

Hardly.

Her legs were beginning to cramp where they were curled under her, but she couldn’t find the energy to shift her position. Her entire body rested against the window, forehead against one of the panes.

It had been a month.

Two weeks since he’d stopped calling or trying to visit.

“If it bothers you so much maybe you should have answered the damn phone.”

That was what Essie had said. She was a few months younger than Bilba and had carried a torch for Fili since the day she’d seen him. The fact he only ever wanted to hang out with Bilba made her angry, and she usually took that anger out on Bilba in the form of snide comments and asides. 

It had never mattered before, because Bilba had Fili in the end so who cared what anyone else thought?

Except now she didn’t have him.

She’d probably never had him, just the same as Essie had never had him but she’d at least had the good sense to realize it.

The worn wooden floorboards creaked behind her and Bilba shut her eyes and pretended to be sleeping. Hopefully, whoever had come in would get what they wanted and leave her alone.

“Bilba?”

Damn.

Bilba opened her eyes and lifted her head to see her foster mother's new boyfriend, whose name she couldn't quite remember, standing there. He was middle aged and short with an already receding hairline and wide framed glasses. He was nice enough, but had no experience with children and struggled to relate to them.

Bilba had always felt sorry for him. He was so out of his element and yet tried so hard.

But, then again, he hadn’t looked for her while she’d been gone either, had he?

“What?” she asked tiredly.

He nodded over his shoulder. "Diane wants to see you.”

Bilba grimaced. The last thing she wanted was a lecture or, worse than that, sympathy. She was not at a point where she could handle sympathy, probably never would be. “Can it wait?”

“No,” the man said in a tone he probably hoped was firm. He frowned and then nodded at the old sweatpants and ragged t-shirt she was wearing. “You’ll need to get dressed first.”

Bilba had no idea why she needed to be properly dressed to go speak to her foster mother but couldn’t find the energy to care enough to ask.

“You’ll need to get out then,” she said instead. 

He flushed with embarrassment, and turned toward the door. “Be quick about it, they don’t want to be kept waiting.”

Bilba froze in the act of unwinding her legs. “They? Who are they?”

She was speaking to an empty room, however, as the man -- Tom? Ted? -- whatever, had already left.

Her stomach clenching with sudden nerves, Bilba hobbled to the small chest where she stored her things. Blood began to rush through her legs, and she grimaced in discomfort. She fell to her knees with a heavier thud than she’d intended, and opened the lid of the chest.

Don’t be ridiculous, she chided herself as a wild hope began to bloom. It’s not them. Her heart began to beat faster, defying her, and her hands trembled as she reached inside.

She chose a sundress and sandals that Fili always compliment her on, hating herself for being pathetic even as she stood to undress and pull the dress on.

It wasn’t them, she thought, as she staggered on still half numb legs to close and lock the chest. It wasn’t, especially not after all the things she’d said, and after the way she’d ignored his calls and visits.

He wouldn’t want her after all that.

No one would.

A deep pit opened in her stomach as she pulled her hair into a high ponytail. Her vision wavered, and she took a shaky breath. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not them, don’t get your hopes up.

She steeled herself, shoved her feet into her sandals and marched out the door.

She could could hear the faint sound of voices from the living room. Again, her traitorous heart started to race, and her breathing became shallow. She felt hot and cold at the same time and she felt almost sick to her stomach from nerves.

Her lungs nearly frozen in her chest, she reached the end of the hall and turned the corner.  

The first person she spotted was her foster mother, a tall woman with silver streaked dark hair and a strangely blissful expression on her face.

Bilba looked past her...and it wasn’t Fili. Or his uncle, or any other member of his family.

Her throat clogged and she set her jaw against the sudden rush of misery that threatened to overwhelm her.

Of course it wasn’t them.

Life wasn’t a damn fairy tale. There were no happy endings, least of all for her.

There were two young men standing in the center of the living room. She’d never seen either of them before. They looked so much alike they could have been twins. As Bilba looked at them the only thing she could think was...bland. There wasn’t one thing about them that stood out, that suggested individuality, or even personality.

She met the eyes of one, and something deep inside her flinched at the flat, dead expression in his eyes. An almost primordial response ran through her as if her subconscious was reacting to...something.

“Ah, Bilba.” Her foster mother stood and came around the desk with a big smile. “Congratulations, my dear. I know you’ve been waiting for this day a long time.”

Bilba frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about?"

The only big event she could think of in her future was her eighteenth birthday. It was still two and a half weeks away and would hardly be a day of celebration. She’d put things off to the last minute, not wanting to face the truth, and then concern over Fili had pushed it off even further. Now, thanks to all that, she was facing the very real possibility of being jobless, and potentially homeless, when her birthday finally did arrive. 

“Oh, I’m not talking about that, my dear,” her foster mother exclaimed, coming to grab Bilba’s hands. “I’m talking about your adoption of course. I know you’ve been excited, and now the waiting is finally over!”

Bilba was literally struck speechless. For several seconds she ran the words through her mind trying to make some sort of sense out of them.

“What?” she finally asked, dumbly. “What are you talking about? I’m not getting adopted.”

“Of course you are!” This came from one of the men standing in the center of the room. He scurried forward and grabbed Bilba’s hands in a grip that seemed unnaturally strong given his slight stature. His hands were also insanely cold, like two blocks of ice, numbing her skin and sending slivers of ice up her forearms. 

Bilba tried to pull her hands back, but the man tightened his grip. She looked at him and her heart jolted as the way the man's mouth was twisted in an unnatural sneer. 

“What are you doing?” she demanded, a tremor running through her as her adrenaline spiked. “Let me go!”

The other man was suddenly there, grabbing her by the upper arm and sending that same, unnatural smile at her foster mother. “Thank you again for all your help. We’ll be going now.”

With that they began to head toward the door, dragging Bilba along with them.

Panic set in, and Bilba set her heels and tried to pull away from them. Her sandals were slip-ons, and they twisted as she fought to hold her place, causing her to stumble and nearly fall.

The second man scowled in annoyance and forced her upright again. “Now, now, none of that.”

“No.” Bilba twisted around, trying to see her foster mother. Despite apparently not noticing her weeks long absence, the woman had always been kind and tried to do what was best for her kids under her care. "Why are you just watching? Stop them!”

Her foster mother simply continued to smile serenely and waved. “Oh, you’re quite welcome, my dear. It makes the struggle worth it, seeing you kids find homes.”

“What?” Bilba whispered. She kicked her shoes off to try and gain purchase, but the two men lifted her like she weighed nothing and half carried, half dragged her toward the door. “They didn’t adopt me! They’re kidnapping me!”

Her dress tangled about her legs as she struggled and her feet stung as they caught on splinters from the rough, wooden floorboards. The grip on her arms was brutally tight and she could already feel deep bruises forming.

She whimpered in fear as she was dragged upright again. The second man shook his head at her. “I said, none of that.”

Bilba barely had a chance to process his hand drawing back, before pain exploded through her face and the side of her jaw. Blackness washed over her and she sagged in their grip.

Dimly, she felt one of them take her legs while the other put his arms under her armpits and, together, they lifted her. Her head sagged back and then she was being carried out.

They took her right down the stairs and out the front door. Bilba could hear the laughter and yelling as her foster siblings played. She tried sluggishly to call for help, but all she heard back for her efforts were variations of “Congratulations, Steph!” and “Bye Steph!”

It was like the entire world had gone mad. No one could see what was happening. No one even cared.

Fili's voice suddenly ran through her head, with his constant talk of monsters and things that lurked in the shadows.

He’d been telling her the truth, she realized with sudden, horrific clarity.

All those years.

All those things he’d said.

It had all been real.

Her feet were set on the ground. She felt the hardness of concrete under her soles, and the fine grit of dirt and debris pressing into the skin. An arm slid around her waist, and her arm was dragged over someone’s neck.

“Why are you doing this?” The haze was beginning to clear, leaving her with a dull ache in her jaw, but she continued to sag and behave as if she were still stunned.

“Because you won’t be missed,” one of the men said from beside her. “Just relax, dear. It’ll all be over soon.”

Bilba tensed. She didn’t want it to all be over, soon or at all. She wanted...

She wanted...

She wanted Fili.

God, but she wanted him. He’d telling the truth. All those years, and she’d never once believed him, never even considered it. Not even with all the proof, the strange trips, the injuries, the crucifix he always insisted she wear or his insistence on always placing salt along her windowsill and the bottom of her door.

Ahead of her, she saw a small, non-descript sedan idling at the curb with its trunk wide open. She bit back a whimper and felt herself begin to shake uncontrollably.

“No,” she whispered. “No, I don’t want to go in there. I don’t want to go in there.”

“Well,” the second man said from over her head. “I suppose no one cares what you want, do they?”

That wasn’t true.

Fili had cared, hadn’t he?

When they’d gone out it had always been to where she wanted to go, to movies she wanted to see. Even when they’d gone to the beach all those years ago, it had only been after she’d told him how badly she wanted to see the ocean.

Her vision blurred and she sucked in a sob as tears began to run down her face.

God, why was she only realizing this now?

Who stuck with someone they didn’t like for over a decade? Especially when they didn’t have to? All he had to do was stop coming. Not give her a phone. Never take her out of the home for trips.

Not try to visit or call her after their fight.

Bilba burst into tears and it was only partly from the fear. Why was it all becoming so crystal-clear now? Now, when it was all far, far too late?

She was never going to see Fili again. Never going to get the chance to apologize or tell him how much she loved him.

He’d go his entire life thinking she hated him, and that was the absolute last thing she felt. 

The two pulled her off the curb and onto the street. The asphalt was scorching on her feet. The burst of pain was like a bolt of lightning through her body and she gasped and tried futilely to pull her feet away.

Her head jerked up as she struggled, and she found herself looking directly at Fili.

Fili who was rounding the corner at the end of the block, Kili in tow beside him. He was wearing a leather jacket she was sure he’d inherited from his uncle; his blond hair was mussed and unruly...and he was the single most beautiful sight she’d ever seen.

“Fili!” The scream was ripped from someplace deep inside her, tearing through her throat.

Fili’s head snapped up from whatever he’d been saying to Kili and for a single, horrible, moment, Bilba was terrified he’d be under the same delusion that everyone else was. That he’d looked her right in the eye and simply wave as she was forced in a trunk and taken away.

Then she saw his expression change into one of horror, heard him shout, and relief rushed through her.

The man holding her cursed. “I thought you said she had no one?”

“She doesn’t,” the other man insisted. “I checked!”

Their grip loosened, for just a split second, and Bilba didn’t hesitate. She twisted and kneed the man in the groin as hard as she could. At the same time, she grabbed the second man by the hair, wrenched him down, and slammed his head into the back bumper.

She took off, running toward Fili. He’d started running toward her, Kili just behind him.

Arms wrapped around her waist, and she screamed again. “Fili!” The arms lifted her up and she pushed at the grip and kicked, desperately trying to free herself. “Fili! Help me!”

She was thrown to the side, and then she was in the backseat of the car. She lunged toward the door, only to have hands grab her from behind and wrench her back again.

The door slammed shut. A moment later the second man slid into the driver’s seat. Bilba heard the rumble of the engine start up, and her stomach wrenched as the car pulled away from the curb.

She tried to lunge forward, toward the door, but the grip around her was like granite. The other man put a hand over her mouth, clamping off her air.

Bilba arched backward, trying to free herself, but to no avail. She scrabbled, clawing at the hands with her nails and trying to reach behind her to find something, anything to cause damage, but she might as well have been held by a statue.

Pressure built in her lungs, and her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might burst right out of her chest. Her brain screamed at her to breathe and she wanted to, god she wanted to so much, but the hands wouldn’t move.

Dots swam in her vision and blackness started to eat in at the edges. Her movements grew weaker and more lethargic, until fighting itself became too much effort and her arms fell limp to her side.

Her last conscious thought was she really wished she’d taken Fili’s call.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21702031/chapters/51764428

[skiesoftwilight]

The Beauty of Courage (Tim Drake)

I’m gonna be honest, I don’t like this one as much as the others and that upsets me lol. I really tried hard to stick with the scenes in my head but I just couldn’t and the whole vibe of this one feels fake, in my opinion, so to the Anon who requested it, I’m deeply sorry if you don’t like it and I will even write a different one if you wanted me too. I hope you guys enjoy it somewhat lol!

Requested by: Anon

Hiya! I love your writing, especially the scars headcannons... I was hoping if you could maybe make a fic with any batboy of your choice about having a female reader with a specific scar? I had a dog attack 5 years ago and my face has several scars around my neck and lips and it's been really hard to overcome the PTSD while also dealing with the occasional swollen face and having to constantly be asked where they are from Sorry if it's too specific or too graphic!!

Word Count: 1576

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Hey, there you are,” Tim spotted Stephanie leaning against the wall beside your bedroom door, staring at the ground, deep in thought; she turned her head to look at him with a faint smile before turning her gaze to the door, “How are they?”

Stephanie turned to look at Tim with her lips tightly pressed together and her blue eyes filled with worry, “Not so good.”

Tim’s smile fell as he too cast a worried look in the direction of your bedroom door, “What? What happened?”

“I don’t know, I helped her with her hair and make-up like she asked me too, but when it came to the jewelry,” Stephanie paused, exhaling all the air in her lungs as she shook her head in confusion, “She looked in the mirror and completely lost all confidence she built up for tonight; she was rushing to take the jewelry off.”

“You didn’t say anything about their scars, did you?” Tim asked.

“I said nothing about them,” Stephanie said, “I didn’t even stare at them.”

A heavy sigh left Tim’s lips as he rubbed the back of his head, “What are they doing now?”

“I don’t know, they asked me to give them a minute and when I was leaving I saw them sitting at their vanity,” Stephanie mentioned, her gaze drifting towards the end of the hallway where she could hear the party carrying on without them. “They didn’t say anything else.”

“Alright, thanks Steph, really,” Tim placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile, “I’ll take it from here and see what I can do, you go down there and have your fun.” Stephanie gave him a small smile before walking past him towards the stairs where he had just come from to rejoin the party. 

Tim was left standing in the hallway alone, staring at your door in concern, thinking of what to say to you the moment he opened that door and stepped inside. He was never good at having a heartfelt conversation with a person he loved, but he knew he had to try for your sake because he couldn’t bear to see you so unhappy.

Tim approached your door and softly knocked, waiting for any type of response on the other side. He heard nothing and thought to try again, a little louder the second time. Still, he heard nothing. He took a deep breath and turned the metal knob and slowly cracked open the door and peeked inside. When he saw you still sitting at your vanity, he stepped inside and softly shut the door behind him.

“Hey,” He spoke softly, being careful to not upset you in any way, “I was looking for you.”

You slowly turned your head to look over your shoulder at your boyfriend, a small smile trying it’s very best to appear on your lips, “Well, you found me.”

Tim returned the smile as he slowly made his way towards you, dragging the chair from your desk behind him so he could sit beside you. The moment he sat beside you, you turned away from him, not even bothering to make it subtle. Tim eyed you for a moment, taking note of how nervous you were by the way you were fiddling with the fabric of your dress.

“I was coming to check up on you,” Tim looked at your mirror, using it as a way to see your face even though you weren’t looking at him, “Is everything alright?”

“Tim,” You turned to him, looking at him with tears beginning to well in your eyes, “I—I can’t do it. I can’t go down there.”

“(Y/N)...” Tim began, reaching out for your hand to hold in his. The moment his hand touched yours, the tears began to roll down your cheeks.

“I—I look like a monster,” You reached for a tissue on your vanity to dab away your tears; Tim squeezed your hand, trying to comfort you with the physical feeling of him being there beside you, “I can’t even look in a mirror for a single second without tearing up and looking away. Do you know what will happen if I was to go down those stairs and face all those people looking like this?”

“I’ll say something if they stare,” Tim promised, squeezing your had for reassurance, “I have no problem doing that.”

“They’ll still do it anyway, Tim,” You looked at him for a moment before turning away in slight embarrassment, “What do I tell them when they ask about them? Do I just tell them that while I was out on patrol, a gang of Ra’s Al Ghul’s assassin’s ambushed me and I got my ass handed to me?”

“You don’t have to tell them a damn thing, because it isn’t their business. If they keep asking, you tell me and I’ll handle them.” Tim spoke softly, moving his chair closer to yours so he could take both of your hands in his. His eyes were filled with concern for you; he wished that he could just make you see how your scars haven’t changed the beauty he sees in you.

“Tim, no,” You shook your head softly, finally turning to look at him with your watery eyes, “That’s my problem. I keep using you as a safeguard every time I run into trouble. That’s what got me these scars—I don’t blame it on you, so don’t start getting that into your head—when I got ambushed that night, I kept thinking that you were going to jump in before things got worse like you always do, but there wasn’t time for that and the scars are a result of my childishness.” 

“I don’t want you to keep jumping into treacherous waters every time I call for you. Let me learn how to deal with things on my own, that’s the only way I’ll learn to be a better partner to you on and off the field,” You pulled his hands onto your lap and ran your thumbs across the top of his, trying to soothe yourself from crying, “You got to let me see what you see.”

Tim was silent for a moment, taking in your words and letting them sink down to his heart. He didn’t know that you had felt that way about your partnership with him; he always thought that you two were working so well and that you didn’t have a problem, but it appeared that you did and he was sorry that he didn’t pick up on it sooner.

“I see what you mean, really,” Tim nodded in agreement at your words, a small smile forming on his face, “But, I think you are already starting to see for yourself.”

“What do you mean? What makes you say that?” You asked, trying to not sound too confused by his words. 

“You are gaining the courage to step up for yourself. With you telling me all of that, you had the courage to take matters in your own hands to change something you didn’t like and I’m proud of you.”

Your smile crawled its way back onto your lips, “Thank you, Tim, really for the wake-up call.”

“No problem.” Tim leaned over and gave you a peck on your nose before giving a soft kiss to the scar on your eyebrow, then the two on your lips and chin, and the one that went across your right cheek. He paused for a moment, just staring into your eyes for a moment before leaning down to place his lips upon yours. 

Your eyes fluttered closed and you relished in the thought that you had Tim to call your own and you his. Your hands gently caressed the side of his face, slowly moving to the back of his head to play with his hair. After a few moments, you two separated, looking out of breath, but wearing the biggest smiles that you have worn in a while.

“I think we did enough talking up here,” You sighed, looking towards the door to hear some of the music from the party through the thick wood, “I think we should head down there and mingle. I’ll do my best to not let anything bother me.”

Tim smiled at you while he stood up to stretch his legs, he walked behind your chair and places his hands on your bare shoulders, “Are you sure?”

“Yea, I’m sure,” You reached up to grab the top of his hands to give a firm squeeze of reassurance, “Let me just fix this makeup I ruined and we can get going.”

Tim watched you correct your make-up, complimenting you the entire time with goofy comparisons and sweet smiles. He watched you reach for the jewelry, holding it in your hands for a moment before setting it back down and standing up to move beside Tim.

“You’re not gonna put those on?” He questioned, “They would look beautiful on you.”

“I know they would, but I’m bit fearful of having any metal near or on my face; I still got to work on that.”

“Well, It’s baby steps.” 

Tim pulled you to his side and walked you both to the door and all the way to the stairs, taking your time to descend and join the rest of the party. Tim stayed glued to your side but said nothing as you confidently addressed those who questioned you or looked at you with your scars.

[thattimdrakeguy]

Give us another hot take on a different bat family member!

How about the whole Bat-Family in general? Because I believe it to be a very flawed concept the way people write and talk about it. DC creators and fandom creators.

Because these are a group of people that weren’t raised together and for the most part never lived together. They are not the typical family unit of people, and that’s exactly what the charm is. Tim came into Dick Grayson’s life a naive fanboy who was trying to do something he thought was right. Dick didn’t really like him right away, I assume because of naivete of believing it would work, but after getting to know him began to consider him his little brother.

This is more or less the beginning of the modern Bat-Family unit. There was some in the silver age but the silver age wasn’t canon even by that point, and Jason and Dick didn’t have enough time to truly form a real well rounded family-esque relationship yet. So this is what I’m gonna consider the beginning.

Off of that Dick and Bruce got closer together, reviving their father/son relationship, and Babs later on considered Tim like a little brother as well. Or at least treated him as such after getting to know him better after some time.

Then came Cass who frightened Tim at first and then later on considered each other like siblings (if you ignore that OOC point people just avoid and ignore where Tim had an awkward crush on Cass).

So that gives us a family unit, some what. They still don’t live together besides Babs and Cass, who Babs kind of looks at in a similar light to a daughter I would say. The relationships don’t always add up to their ages as people would expect, but it’s a family unit. Tim’s the little brother, but one of the people he considers his big sis also dates his big brother figure. So it’s odd but it’s the Bat-Family.

Then in the early 2000s because stuff goes ape crazy it all gets muddled and confusing: Bruce officially adopts Tim, Cass gets brain-washed (I think) and goes evil, I think Dick moved to New York for a little while (could be wrong, but I’m almost certain he moved to another big city), and oh yeah, Steph (who was just sort of the close friend to the Bat-Fam at this point, I’m not sure if I would say official family member yet since she died too quickly after becoming Robin and not getting closer to anyone but Bruce and possibly Babs) was believed to be dead.

So what’s the Bat-Fam at this point? No one really interacted as much until Dick came back, and Steph came back, and Cass came back, but then it was a mess and it was hard to tell how everyone felt besides Dick and Tim who still loved each other like brothers.

Then Jason and Damian come aboard, and this is where the main problem comes in.

Jason doesn’t like Tim, he tries to kill Tim, later on tries to kill Dick and Damian. HE IS NOT THEIR BROTHER AT THIS POINT.

Damian doesn’t like Tim, he tries to kill Tim, THEY ARE NOT LIKE BROTHERS AT THIS POINT, only by relation to Bruce, but as the way the fandom portrays them as being a close brotherly relationship of teasing and picking on each other. They are not brothers like that.

and Cass is still mostly missing.

So by the end of the New 52, Tim feels mostly left aside, Damian gets along with no one but Dick, Jason barely gets along with any one at all, and Steph doesn’t really interact with anyone much but Babs and sometimes Cass.

The Bat-Family is broken. There is no real Bat-Family, it’s just Dick and Damian with occasional appearances from Bruce to other people’s series.

Then in the New 52 it gets even messier!

Because now Tim and Jason suddenly get along despite Lobdell saying in interviews he still tried to kill him.

Damian and Bruce are growing their relationship, Damian still seems to have his relationship with Dick.

But now Tim hardly interacts with anyone, along with Jason.

So now it’s just Bruce, Damian, and occasionally Dick.

No one really considers themselves brothers with one another.

Then Batman Eternal and Batman & Robin Eternal happens.

Tim and Jason still don’t quite like each other (tho nearly not as much to the point of Jason trying to murder him), by the end they seem to consider each other family despite the fact they hardly know each other personally.

Dick suddenly acts like he has a close bond to both of them when he comes back and reveals himself as Agent 37, when the heck did they ever bond in this continuity? Why do they consider each other family? NOTHING OF WORTH HAPPENED. Is it all because they’re adopted by Bruce? Why would they act like they’re close by saying family when they aren’t honestly all that close? They don’t even talk to each other.

Then in a Batburger scene during Rebirth, Dick, Duke, Damian, and Jason are all gathered together by Bruce. Damian acts like a little brother to Jason, and Jason acts like a older brother to Damian. Why would they have this relationship? Why would Damian care about action figures all of a sudden when he is not interested in kid things for the sake of his self-image and no launching pad to change that because he never once really cared? When did they ever learn to get along? At this point Damian beat the crap out of Jason and Jason later on save’s Damian during a massive fight, and Jason trying to blow him up is apparently canon still according to Lobdell. They shouldn’t really get along considering Jason tried to kill him, and Damian beat the crap out of him. One save doesn’t mean they’re brothers now.

It’s contrived, it’s broken, and no real story came out of it.

It’s flat, it’s bland, and it doesn’t work because no work into making it work anymore. The fans had this idea that they were, writers tried to pander to him, and now it’s just one big freaking mess because they didn’t bother trying to make it work.

Going off of what they DID actually do the Bat-Family is like this.

Dick and Bruce are like fathers to Damian (but not in a gay way, no incest here, thank you), Tim and Jason are only sort of like brothers, but still not very close, it’s like having a brother that moved out while the first one was still being raised, they sort of get along and consider each other family but not quite. Babs has romantic affection for both Dick and Jason.

That’s not a family at all, that’s a mess. If you ignore what they say and only focus on what they actually did it’s not a family in the slightest. They just act like it on occasion. It’s so flat and bland it’s honestly awful to me because it doesn’t feel right.

But people seem to praise it when they pander to them, “OH IT’S THE BAT-FAMILY! MY HEART OH I LOVE IT!”, but to me I’d rather read a story of them bonding and gaining that relationship.

Fans can’t always get what they want because what they want isn’t there and doesn’t work when they shove it in. They can’t get heart filled stories this way. They’re just gonna get cheap pandering for sales and tumblr posts.

If they want quality they’re going to have to wait and hope a writer does the work needed in order to make this Bat-Family a functional piece of fiction that can be fueled off of more then fan pandering.

[instabilitae-blog]

watch_dogs au notes that don’t make sense but i’m trying

jeff and alex’s parents were killed in the northeast blackout of 2003; jeff is more understanding about why it happened than alex is, but neither of them are particularly spiteful ( not that they’d just chill with ray like the wd2 cast, but, y’know )

they’re raised by another family member until jeff turns 18, at which point he takes custody of alex and they split from the rest of the family

she’s where the two of them gain interest in computers

jeff, steph, evan, and vinny are new jersey’s most prominent dedsec members

evan is the “fixer” of the group, vinny does the most hacking but never goes out and about, jeff can deal with violence and hacking like a real wd protagonist, and steph takes on a leadership + spokesperson roles

this isn’t saying too much, because it’s one of the less ctos-heavy states in the northeast, but they still know it + act like it

other local members include side characters we know and love: jessa, jessie, nick, daniel... etc

alex is specifically forbidden to join dedsec; jeff thinks it’s too risky / future-damaging and won’t allow it.

alex actually isn’t very involved in anything until later

poppy works with blume because her adoptive mother is a prominent employee; she becomes the local dedsec leak, and shares information through the main four in order to stop things from being traced back to her directly

she’s been caught hanging around dedsec affiliates ( main four ) by ctos, but learned her lesson and got away with it without significant punishment

since she can’t be around them without arousing suspicion, she tends to end up staying behind with alex whenever they decide to leave the house

“the habit virus,” as dedsec calls it, was designed by the nj divisions of blume to quickly tag, target, and often eliminate dedsec affiliates ( this is all done off the books, of course )

vinny is paid off and ends up turning on dedsec; he becomes blume’s rat, and is the one who starts of the distribution, purposefully covering his tracks by making it seem like evan is doing this work

although he was promised jeff, stephanie, and evan would be safe, he most likely knew they wouldn’t be; they’re are killed within the following months / year

poppy doesn’t find out about the virus until it’s too late, and doesn’t find out about vinny until blume’s fixers have already taken care of the rest of the main four. knowing he has won immunity, she kills him herself.

once everyone is dead, and dedsec seems to have been eliminated, alex finds himself alone, and he needs to make a decision: revive the revolution, or let sleeping dogs lie

alex graduates from high school, then decides he doesn’t care about going to college; he wants to bring dedsec back, like jeff and co. would’ve wanted

he contacts poppy again after a long period of no communication, and asks her to help him

poppy leaves blume, abandons the life she has, and devotes herself to breathing life back into dedsec like he has ( once she’s made sure all of the information on the habit virus is gone )

they’re extremely effective in the beginning, as using this dirt they have on blume - all of these deaths - works like a charm

neither of them are doing so well personally: alex being extremely damaged and empty from what he’s lost; poppy honestly shouldn’t have abandoned everything like that because this isn’t a life anyone should live

they expand, however, and continue the old work with their lives - and others’ - no longer on the line

[welldamnsatoru]

Chapter 8: I want us to be soulmates // Shawn Mendes

Chapter 1:https://welldamnshawn.tumblr.com/post/165861136790/chapter-1-youre-going-to-wish-wed-never-been

Chapter 2:https://welldamnshawn.tumblr.com/post/166035402061/chapter-2-why-did-you-come-here-shawn-mendes

Chapter 3:https://welldamnshawn.tumblr.com/post/166104883601/chapter-3-ill-take-my-chances-shawn-mendes

Chapter 4:https://welldamnshawn.tumblr.com/post/166172386006/chapter-4-i-want-you-to-want-me-because-im-me

Chapter 5: https://welldamnshawn.tumblr.com/post/166248497496/chapter-5-were-a-perfect-match-shawn-mendes

Chapter 6: https://welldamnshawn.tumblr.com/post/166317428186/chapter-6-how-could-i-have-done-this-to-my

Chapter 7: https://welldamnshawn.tumblr.com/post/166496245691/chapter-7-i-like-you-as-a-good-girl-shawn

Recap: “You’re much more suited to being a goody-two-shoes.” Shawn teases and I glance at him from under my lashes.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You should. I like you as a good girl.”

I think my heart stopped beating.

He pulls up out front and I get out, using the opportunity to stretch my legs and check out the house. It’s a tiny, timber house just on the edge of a forest. The front porch has missing floorboards and as Shawn leads me up the steps I place my feet where his had once been to avoid falling through.

He shoves a key into the lock and the front door swings open to reveal a surprisingly clean hallway. I shut the door behind me, Shawn already disappearing further into the house.

“I guess looks can be deceiving.” I murmur, peeking my head into the room closest to me containing a small couch and books lining the walls.

“You hungry?” He’s right behind me again, stealthy as ever.

“Are you cooking?’

“If you want the house to burn down then yes.”

I laugh, the sound echoing down the hall and I feel Shawn’s eyes on me. Peeking at him, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his scrutinizing gaze, I offer to cook. Nodding, he takes off as if he knows the house better than the back of his hand. He probably does.

“Here’s some pasta and some tomato sauce.” Shawn tells grabbing the ingredients out of the cupboard. Mum and Dad have been doctors since I’ve been born and due to their late hours and Steph spending most of her time with her soulmate, I had to learn to cook for myself.

“How’d you even find this place?” Shawn takes a seat on the stools behind the large island bench made of smooth, cool marble.

“I used to live here; before everything that happened with my Dad and the Libertas.” My mouth drops open but after a second I regain my composure.

“You lived here?”

“Yeah, it’s legally under my name and everything now that I’m 21 but I-“

“Wait you’re 21?” I cut him off, opening the fettuccini box.

“Yeah, is that a problem?” he perks an eyebrow and I scowl.

“It’s all cool over here.”

“Good.”

“Great.” He laughs at my response and I involuntarily smile at the sound. Life like this was so easy. The memory of Shawn and I running away temporarily come racing back.

“Have you ever thought it would just be easier to run away?” I voice my thoughts and he leans his elbows on the countertop.

“Yes. I thought about it. The countdown on my arm definitely made me think about it.” I frown.

“You would have ran away before you met me?”

“I could have tried. The countdown doesn’t raise its numbers though just because I crossed a couple borders. Somehow we still would have met right as they flashed zero.” He rubs his forearm where the timer used to be.

“Would you ever run away with me?” I breathe, knowing I was now becoming completely irrational.

“Running away with my soulmate, hmm? How cliché.”

“It doesn’t have to be cliché.” I chuck the pasta into the pot of boiling water. “It could just be two young adults who like each other enough to run away together from life’s problems and start a new beginning.”

“You assumed that I like you?”

“That’s what you took from that sentence?” I groan.

“Answer the question Y/n.” He grins and I roll my eyes.

“No princess this time?”

“Y/n.”

“Shawn.”

“Y/n.”

“I thought that you liked me because you saved me from the Libertas and you… kissed me back… at the wedding.”

He doesn’t say anything and I focus on cooking the pasta.

“You don’t have to say anything Shawn, you don’t have to tell me how you feel.” I reassure him. Every step we took forward I felt like we took three back.

“How do you feel about me?” He asks me, meeting my eyes in the midday sun.

“I’m not going to lie Shawn, I’ve always liked you. Even when you pushed me away and told me to leave you alone.”

The water simmers and I stir it.

“So from the very first moment you met me, even after the awful things I did to you, you still like me?”

“I didn’t like everything you did,” I mumble, feeling my cheeks heat. “Some of the things you said to me made me want to slap you.” He chuckles. “But I like you a lot now, knowing that those words you told me were just a protective wall.”

“I wouldn’t say a wall-“

“They were a wall. You didn’t want to let me in or care for me.” I smirk knowingly. “You ended up letting me in and I like what I know now. Those other things were just minor flaws.”

“If you call hitting you a flaw.” Shawn grumbles and I rest the spoon on the counter that I was using to stir.

“You did it to protect the both of us from Jeremy finding out that you were my soulmate. We both know that he would hurt us if he found out.”

He nods, eyes downcast.

“I like how you make me feel less uptight- more relaxed and at ease. My whole life has been strict rules and following whatever the government wants us to do. But then I met you and in your own way you showed me that there’s another side to tings even if I don’t necessarily agree with that side.”

“Come here.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“And I said why?” He rolls his eyes.

“Someone gained some confidence.” I don’t answer. Instead I walk around the counter until I’m in front of him. He reaches out to grip my hands. My cheeks heat at his touch and bite my lip to stop any sound coming out of my traitorous mouth.

“You know that I always believed that soulmate’s were bullshit so when you came into my life I was so terrified that it was going to be true and that I would fall in love with you.”

“Are you?”

“Don’t interrupt me.”

“Sorry.”

“You were right in saying I pushed you away but somehow you would always get closer, and then when you kissed me at the wedding all my feelings kind of just made an appearance, almost like it was awakening something in my body that was like ‘hey I really care for this girl’. Then I got scared again knowing what the libertas could do to you since you were my soulmate. So I pushed you away again.”

“Then I stuffed everything up by going straight to them and joining up.”

“Pretty much.” I shove his shoulder and he laughs. I’ve only heard him laugh a handful of times but when I do, it always makes a warm feeling grow in my stomach.

“To answer your question, no I don’t love you. It’s too soon for me to be feeling anything of that degree just yet.” I try and pull out of his grasp but he doesn’t let go.

“Can you let me go?”

“No because there is more.”

“Oh right, your girlfriend that you’re in love with.” I sniff, eyes focused on the wooden floor.

“What?” He genuinely sounds confused.

“You told me you had a girlfriend and that you loved her?” I ask, watching his eyebrows pinch in the middle. Then he smiles sheepishly.

“I may have told you that to push you away. I don’t really have a girlfriend and I’m not in love with someone else.

“You ass.” I huff, slapping his arm and he rubs it, pouting.

“So I may have deserved that but-“

“You can make your own pasta, I’m having it all.” I growl.

“I’m sorry. For everything, I’m so sorry you got stuck with someone like me.” The look in his eyes is so sincere and vulnerable that I feel myself lean into him as if the action would provide some comfort.

“I don’t regret being stuck with you, we’re perfect together. I told you I would prove it to you and I will. One of these days you’ll believe it to.”

He sighs. “You deserve someone better than me. Someone who doesn’t have fifty problems lined up.”

“If there’s one thing that my Dad ever told me about loving someone and having a relationship he told me this. Someone who truly loves you will accept you no matter what.” I chuck my arms over his shoulders and lean in so my nose is nearly brushing his, my chest pressed to his.

“You’re flaws are my flaws and your problems will be my problems. Soulmate’s are a team Shawn and I want to try if you want to try, no matter who’s trying to break us apart.”

His hands are now on my waist, the heat transferring to my own skin.

“I want to try.”

“Really?” I grin, my excitement shining through.

“I want us to be soulmates. I believe that we could be perfect together.”

I’m kissing him again.

[smitheeblog]

A few thoughts on improving pedagogy

1.     We should spend more time creating eureka moments

Learning information doesn’t seem to be linear.

Instead, it seems to come in bursts of “Aha” moments, where lots of information comes together under some grand schema. I remember when I was studying music theory, there was a point where it kind of “clicked,” and all the seemingly unrelated stuff puzzle pieced together.

This seems to be true of most fields. Most of the long-term gains from learning a subject don’t come from being able to regurgitate that information later. Instead, the main gain is the ability to form a mental picture of the concept, that you can slot more information into or draw connections from later.

In that vein, it seems like more education should be focused on cultivating and inspiring these sorts of eureka moments.

E.g I spent a lot of time one semester learning linear algebra, and at the time was pretty competent in doing the very base level problems. But I struggled immensely with the more conceptual stuff, because I didn’t really get it. And I didn’t end up getting ituntil I was able to finally mentally map the relationships between all the component things I had learned. Had the teacher spent 20% less time teaching equations at the beginning and 20% more time trying to get me to understand the big picture, I probably would’ve picked up on the details a lot quicker later

2.    

People who are very good at things often make very bad teachers

There are a few reasons for this, I think.

First, people who are very good at things are very removed from the actual experience of learning the thing, so they tend to have forgotten what parts of the thing are difficult to learn and which are easy.

Second, experts also have a very large intuition base, whereas amateurs have very little intuition on the subject, and are usually learning everything from first principles. So, it can be hard for experts to know which things average people have an intuition for, and which things you can only intuit after years of study.

Third, experts usually get to be experts by being very good at their thing at a subconscious level, which often means they can’t explain why they’re making the decisions they’re making.

If you wanted to learn how to write great pop songs, and you went and asked Paul McCartney how to write great pop songs, he would tell you (and this is true) that most of his best melodies came to him in dreams, and being the piano virtuoso he was, he simply woke up in the morning and played what he remembered. Similarly, Steph Curry could give you pointers on shooting three pointers, but he can’t tell really tellyou the secret,because he doesn’t really know the secret. He just shot enough basketballs and they just started going in.

That’s why the best resource for doing your math homework usually isn’t the math teacher, it’s the kid who just did the homework. He knows exactly which problems are hard, exactly what you don’t know how to do, and exactly how to go from “not knowing what to do” to “knowing what to do”

I’m not sure how to implement this idea or make any fundamental change with it, but save for a few subjects that are extraordinarily procedural and memorizable (like cooking), you probably shouldn’t buy a Masterclass subscription.

3.    We should think more about what people take away from formal learning

I don’t know about you, but once I learn some sort of subject formally, I usually forget most of the technical nuances unless I’m constantly practicing. But even if I forget it, I think there’s two major benefits to having learned it.

First, it’s really easy to relearn things you once knew. I haven’t taken a physics class in 4 years, but if you gave me the lecture notes from my 11thgrade physics class, I could probably learn a weeks worth of material in about an hour. Muscle memory seems to work in a similar way. Even if they don’t recall it in the moment, it’s remarkably easy for dancers and drummers to recall pieces they once learned

     (Most people who’ve taken calculus probably couldn’t solve this right now, but could relearn how to in about 30 seconds)

Second, learning something once improves your ability to gain new information quicker. 

This is huge.

I’m going to use computer science as my guiding example for this one, but you can substitute any academic or creative subject you like.

In the times before I knew any computer science, if somebody had given me a bunch of data and told me to dos something to it, the only thing I’d really be able to do is google “how do the function.” Now, even if I’ve never explicitly learned how to do this function, I’ve seen things like it, and I can categorize the type of problem I’m dealing with. Right off the bat, I’ve gained a vocabulary for googling that I didn’t have before.

Now, say I take a crack at it. I expend all of my known tools, only to find that I don’t know how to use one tool in a specific way. But my previous teaching has given me the knowledge to isolate what I don’t know. This skill is massive. In the age of google, it’s foolish to try to teach someone the sum of human knowledge, rather, you get a framework that allows you to learn new information piecemeal as it becomes necessary to know them.

The sum of this is that teachers and instructors should be more aware that this is the primary value they are offering to students. Obviously you have to learn something well once to be able to relearn it later, so rote instruction still has its merits. But more instructors should be focusing on teaching students not only how to master the exact concepts they’re teaching them, but how to go about figuring out which neighboring concepts you need, and how to learn them.

One way to implement this is to make it its own class. For example, to graduate with a computer science degree, you’re required to take this class at the end called “Learning Computer Science on your own” that lays out a map of all of the things that you probably don’t yet know how to do, but that are within grasp of your knowledge, generally what problems those concepts solve, and how to google around for them.

Summed up:

1.    It’s more important to have a mental map of concepts than to memorize the concepts. Eureka moments tend to get you there

2.    Amateurs are often better teachers

3.    Learn to google, teach people to google.

[reverseblackholeofwords]

Enjoy the Show (pt. 9)

(I’m back, cutie pies! After a day spent away from the Egos, I finally got my mojo back. So, here goes nothin’...)

(Part One and Part Eight)

Ego Inc. glitters in the rising sun’s first light as Mark and Wilford carry Matthew inside between the two of them. “Doc should already be in the clinic by now getting ready,” Wilford says, angling them towards the elevator.

Matt looks around him. “You have your own building? I want my own building.” He’s mostly delirious at this point, and Mark is worried that he won’t be much help it all. If anyone knows anything about surviving the animatronics, it would be the man who’s studied them relentlessly for years now.

“Hang in there, Matt.” Together, they carry him into Dr. Iplier’s new clinic and rush him into one of the rooms as Mark shouts, “Doc, we need help, now!”

Dr. Iplier stumbles in, only half-way through his first cup of coffee when he sees the state that Matthew is in. “Put him room one. Is he dehydrated?”

“Very,” Matthew mutters.

Doc rushes into a supply closet. “We need to get him an IV then.” Dr. Iplier grabs everything they’ll need and rushes to the room where they’ve laid Matthew down on the bed. “What happened?”

“He was kidnapped. We don’t know for how long,” Mark fills him in quickly, telling him about Natemare and the animatronics. “We have to help Nate.”

The Doctor nods and finishes up with Matthew before checking his vitals. “Looks like he might’ve had a mild concussion, but everything else checks out. We should keep him here overnight, make sure he’s back to normal before we send him home.”

“Steph,” Matthew murmurs, falling asleep quickly. “You’ve got to…”

Mark squeezes Matthew’s arm. “Don’t worry. We’ll call her and let her know you’re ok.” Mark watches Matt smile softly before he passes out.

Wilford goes through Matthew’s pockets and finds his phone. “Here, you call her. I’ll see if I can find the Host.”

Mark takes the phone but pauses before he calls Stephanie. “Are you sure you want to involve the Host in this? I mean, is he really our best option?” The Doctor and Wilford share a glance, and something passes between them that Mark can’t read even though they look almost identical to him. Doc shrugs, and Wilford nods.

“Trust me,” Wilford tells him, “we’ll want the Host.”

  After a day of rest, Mark has the other Egos clear the building. “Ten minutes until midnight,” Wilford tells them as he walks into Matthew’s hospital room and closes the door behind him. “Are you sure he’ll come after us?”

“Positive,” Mark says simply.

The Host stands in the corner, his hands resting on the pommel of his cane. “How are you feeling, Matthew?” They’d met briefly before and exchanged theories, and the Host feels a pang of sadness to see his new friend so weak and tired.

Matt sits up and tries to hide the way his hands are shaking. “Better.”

Wilford checks his watch. “Five minutes.” He and Mark ready themselves by the door, and the Host steps closer to Matthew.

As soon as the clock strikes twelve, Mark hears the sound of the elevator ping, announcing that someone else is now on the floor with them. Silence follows, eerie and disturbing as Mark waits, one hand on the doorknob and the other clutching a flashlight. After he’s sure, Mark opens the door and flashes the light before quickly closing the door again.

Wilford watches as the purple mist rolls in through the crack beneath the door, and he swallows hard, trying to remind himself that nothing it shows him is real. He glances up at the Host who gasps as the mist floods the area around his ankles. Matthew pulls himself further onto the bed.

“Steady, everyone,” Mark whispers. “Stay calm.” Something heavy steps towards the door, causing both Mark and Wilford to jump. Mark grinds his teeth when he hears a knock at the door.

“Come out, come out,” Natemare calls from the other side. Mark holds up his hand to keep Wilford from answering. Natemare knocks again. “I have to compliment you on your survival skills, truly. You’ve managed to survive two whole nights so far, but with each night, I gain more power.” Mare takes a deep breath. “Can you feel that? The palpable fear in the air?” He laughs and bangs his fist against the door, making everyone in the room jump. “That’s what I live for!”

Wilford readies his gun, but Mark shakes his head. This is still Nate, still his friend. “Nate, can you hear me? We’re going to help you. I promise.”

Natemare rolls his eyes. “Nate isn’t here anymore. I already told you that.”

“We’re done playing cat and mouse,” Wilford says with a twitch of his mustache and a flash of his gun. “I think you’ll find that this is our game now.”

Natemare is stunned for a moment as the door swings open slowly to reveal a man with a blindfold over his eyes and a cane resting in his hands. “The Host welcomes Natemare to Night Three. Shall we begin?”

[misssophiachase]

Into the Woods

I am so excited by the latest Klaroline news! So, I couldn't help but write another post TVD drabble. This is dedicated to the amazeballs Steph @klarolinedrabbles - and so too the wonderful birthday girl Angie - @thetourguidebarbie - for the most beautiful comments on their tumblr blogs. Also big thanks to Ravyn - @cupcakemolotov - and Megan - @megansarah11 - for their assistance on twitter, much appreciated ladies!

The Magic School hosts a Father-Daughter campout in Mystic Falls. After Alaric comes down with the flu at the last minute, Caroline has to step in and take the twins instead, unexpectedly running into a certain Mikaelson. (Points of view will vary between locations, hope you like it!)

5 years 1 month post TVD finale...

Meeting Point

Even though it was still light, the temperature had dropped a few degrees while they'd been driving. Caroline pulled her jacket around her body to ward off the chill as she stepped out of the jeep. The twins were in the backseat, excitedly taking in the flurry of activity around them. If only she was as excited about sleeping outside in a tent with giggling tweens and their fathers.

This was supposed to be a father-daughter campout but Alaric had come down with the flu, probably of the male kind which she decided was entirely too convenient. Caroline had camped out numerous times and wouldn't have minded except for the fact that she had to cancel her pampering spa weekend with Bonnie and Elena. It was difficult not to think about them indulging in sun tanning, facials, massages and copious amounts of red wine while she had to endure incessant talk about Justin Bieber, Kylie Kardashian and whoever else.

Josie and Lizzie jumped out of the car, running towards their friends who were milling around with their fathers in tow. By the looks on some of their faces, they felt the same way as Caroline.

"Yeah, thanks for the help, girls," Caroline called after them sarcastically as she unloaded the bags from the trunk.

"Ms Forbes," a familiar voice said by way of a greeting. "You look as excited as I feel." Caroline turned to face Hope dressed in dark jeans, a black sweater and a grey woollen jacket, her freckles sprinkled over her nose and those auburn locks tied back in a loose ponytail.

She would be lying if she didn't see Klaus in the young girl's face every time they spoke. It had taken a while to get used to not reacting from the familiar expressions she'd wear (especially that deep set frown when she was concentrating) but after four years at her magic school Caroline was an expert at pretending she wasn't effected by her father's resemblance. Plus, it didn't hurt that she'd grown closer to the youngest Mikaelson. Hope was extremely studious, talented and a complete over achiever, a tag she herself had worn back in the day at Mystic Falls High.

"Are you kidding, this is going to be fun!" She embellished, a big grin plastered on her face. "And what did I tell you about calling me Ms Forbes?"

"Not to do it," she murmured, her face slightly downcast. She was always so surprised that a Mikaelson could be shy at times, especially with such colourful and demanding relatives. "Sorry, force of habit."

"I think you've been around your uncle too long with all that unnecessary decorum, Hope. Speaking of your Uncle, where is he?"

To say she'd been surprised that Elijah was accompanying Hope on a camping trip of all things was an understatement. Not only because she assumed Klaus would want to spend quality time with his daughter but also if Elijah would be correctly attired for the outdoors given all he seemed to own was expensive suits.

"He's not coming," she admitted. "Something, uh, came up." Caroline resisted the urge to roll her eyes, first her father and now her uncle. Caroline only hoped that missing out on such an important occasion was worth whatever drama they were whipping up in New Orleans.

When Hope had come to the Magic School all those years ago, Caroline assumed Klaus would be appearing frequently on their doorstep, offering his unwanted suggestions on her teaching methods and checking that Hope was receiving ample opportunities and tuition. But he wasn't, only making selective appearances over the years. In fact she'd been quite frustrated by that very fact. Bonnie had questioned her ire a few months back, suggesting that maybe it wasn't Hope she was only worried about. She hadn't bothered to respond just sent a dirty look her best friend's way. She might have been a witch but she was way off track Caroline had told herself.

"I'm sorry," she empathised, suddenly angry they couldn't even muster one male Mikaelson to chaperone Hope. Caroline would even take bossy Rebekah at this point, not that the Original Princess would be the camping type. "Alaric is sick, so you can just hang with us, sweetie."

"Oh, I didn't mean no one was coming," she shared. "Uncle Kol should be here any minute." Caroline raised her eyebrows thinking that maybe she shouldn't have questioned Elijah's credentials given his substitute. This should be an interesting campout to say the least, she was already imagining his incessant whining as they trekked to the camp site. At least with those childish tendencies he'd fit in well with the other kids.

"Well, that's great," she uttered, trying to sound convincing.

"Can I help you with those bags, Caroline?" She offered, holding out her hand to take Lizzie's backpack. Caroline's face softened, thinking just how much she adored the young Mikaelson, she was always so generous, kind and well mannered. Maybe she should be thanking Elijah for that decorum after all.

"No, let me," a familiar voice interrupted, taking the bag from her hand and causing every hair to stand up on that particular arm. He was here and Caroline wasn't quite sure what to do and given the dry feeling in her mouth she was beginning to realise that forming words was going to be equally as difficult.

"Dad!" Hope exclaimed excitedly as he placed the backpack on the ground so he could embrace his daughter. Caroline would be lying if their impromptu show of affection didn't cause her to melt slightly. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm going on the father-daughter campout," he baulked, incredulously. "Last time I checked I possessed the proper credentials. Not too sure about you though, love." Caroline was still trying to come to terms with his unexpected presence, let alone the fact that his tight, navy henley hugged his toned chest and she could see those necklaces she knew so well poking out teasingly underneath.

"But you said you couldn't come."

"It was supposed to be a surprise," he conceded. "Did you really think I'd send either of your uncles in my place?"

"That's a shame, we could really have used some of Elijah's..."

"Dress sense," Klaus intervened. Bastard.

"No just sense in general," she drawled, resisting the urge to childishly poke out her tongue. What could she say? The Original Mikaelson brought it out in her.

"So, where is Alaric? I thought when the brief was father-daughter that meant..."

"I don't have to explain myself to you," she hissed, trying not to gain Hope's attention that had been briefly averted by a school friend. "I run this school so it's only right that I supervise." His eyes never left hers, those sinful, crimson lips curving into a knowing smirk and flashing a few stray dimples her way for added effect.

"But yet you felt the need to explain anyway," he grinned cheekily, boldly moving a step closer. Obviously he was trying to keep their conversation private too or was it just his excuse to flout his spicy aftershave in the vicinity of her poor, unsuspecting nostrils? When it came to Klaus Mikaelson, Caroline was always going to think the worst. That defence mechanism had worked well for her this long at least.

"We really should get going," she excused herself, pretending that the shivers she felt were due to the falling temperature and not Klaus and his close proximity. She looked back briefly noticing Hope's overjoyed expression, suddenly feeling bad for begrudging his presence. All Caroline needed to do was get through the next day and she'd be okay. "Easier said than done", she mumbled under her breath as she watched him teasing Hope playfully.

Camp Site

"Once you all get your tents up, then we can start dinner," Caroline announced, looking around the campsite. Klaus busied himself with the job at hand, determined to assemble his tent in record time for Hope's sake and possibly that of a certain beautiful and bossy blonde.

When he'd secretly made his way to the meeting point, Klaus hadn't expected to encounter a surprise of his own. She'd looked just as beautiful as the last time they'd discussed Hope at the parent-teacher conference six months back. Her golden waves were cascading over her shoulders onto the white sweater and tan coat and Klaus couldn't miss just how exceptional her figure looked in those fitted, denim jeans. Klaus resisted the urge to lick his lips she looked that delectable, even just for a camping excursion. He was immensely glad that, for whatever reason, she was playing pseudo father to the twins tonight.

In fact, he was so mesmerised that Klaus didn't notice Hope tugging at his sleeve impatiently breaking him from that self-imposed trance. "We need to get the tent up before dark." Klaus rallied, determined to put this thing together and hopefully make a lasting impression on one Caroline Forbes.

"So, what do we do first?" Hope asked, expectantly, observing the parts spread out on the grass. "Maybe..."

"No, this isn't up to you, sweetie, let me." Klaus smiled at his gorgeous daughter before taking in the scene and trying to remember the YouTube tutorial he'd studied before the trip. If people could learn to play instruments that way, he sure as hell could erect a bloody tent. Klaus consulted the parts thinking that he didn't quite remember them looking like this. "So, uh, if we just do this..." he suggested feebly, attempting to attach one of the pegs but failing miserably. She look at him unconvinced. Klaus had never felt so inadequate and given he was the most powerful creature on earth that was saying a lot.

"Hope honey, do you want to go and get some wood for the fire with the twins?" Caroline interrupted. The little girl nodded obediently and walked away. Klaus closed his eyes momentarily wishing she hadn't come over right at that ego crushing moment. "Do you need some help with that?"

"I'm perfectly capable of putting together a tent," he baulked. "Anyway shouldn't you be pitching your own, love?"

"I did that five minutes ago," she drawled lazily, gesturing to the finish product behind him.

"Showoff," he murmured, taking in her perfectly erected tent. He really should have known, was there anything she couldn't do?

"I was a Girl Scout," she offered by way of explanation. "You should see all the patches I earned, in fact I was one of the most decorated Girl Scouts in Mystic Falls' history."

"And I don't doubt you sold the most cookies too, love," he smirked, suddenly forgetting the pathetic status of his tent because she looked so damn adorable when she was boasting.

"Held the record for most boxes sold for a solid nine years."

"That's hardly surprising," he grinned. "It's pretty difficult to say no to you, love." It was as if time stood still, much like when they held each other's gaze over that map at the university all those years ago.

"Uh, I actually came over here to lend you a much needed hand," she explained, finally speaking and attempting to hide the blush that had crept up her neck and onto those usually creamy cheeks. "Can't have the big, bad King of New Orleans' reputation being ruined all over one measley tent."

"How generous of you, sweetheart. Although, I hardly think one tent would constitute an overthrow of the current regime. You know if I couldn't put up this tent, which is nothing but a ludicrous notion."

"Fine, go ahead," she said, raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms over her chest. Klaus was struggling to concentrate under her gaze and it wasn't just because he had no bloody idea what he was doing. His enormous ego wouldn't let him admit that of course. He looked around madly trying to work out which pieces fitted where but nothing was making sense. Klaus had a mind to write a scathing comment on that particular YouTube video when he returned to New Orleans.

"Let's see..." he murmured, attempting to buy some much needed time. "I just put this on here."

"Not if you want to actually pitch it this century," she scoffed. "As amusing as this is to watch, and trust me I could do this all night but I think it's time you drop the whole male, macho act and ask for help."

"That's not in my programming," he admitted.

"Well, the way I see it is that you have two options. In a few minutes Hope will be back expecting a successfully erected tent and you either tell her the truth about your inabilities or you let me help and we keep your short fall between the two of us." Klaus wanted to argue back but he couldn't deny she had a point, there was no way he wanted Hope thinking he was an inept camper.

"Okay," he mumbled.

"Okay what?"

"You can help me," he bit out, his eyes downcast as he uttered it.

"I'm sorry what?" She baulked, hands on hips. "That's not the way most people ask for help, although I keep forgetting you're not most people."

"I'm not used to doing that," he conceded, sheepishly. "How can I acquit myself, Caroline?"

"Just say the magic word," Klaus paused momentarily trying to work out exactly what she meant. "Oh my god, you're like a thousand years old. It's please, Klaus. Obviously not something you use very often or not at all by the sounds of it."

"I knew that," he shot back. "I just don't have much use of it especially when it comes to my siblings as I'm sure you'd understand." Caroline didn't seem at all pleased with his reaction, spinning on her heel and walking away from him toward the makeshift fire. "Please Caroline. I could really use your help," Klaus called out, hoping that his request hadn't come too late.

"Fine," she murmured turning around and moving towards him. "Now, that wasn't so difficult, was it?" Klaus smiled, thinking it really wasn't where she was concerned. He'd never wanted to please anyone as much as her and Hope and if they could pitch this tent he'd be on his way to doing it.

Camp Site - 2 hours later

"So, Lady Charlotte climbs the stairs of the old mansion slowly, the sound of whimpers only increasing as she makes it onto the landing, the old, wooden floorboards creaking under foot," Caroline narrated, the torch's light shining onto her face ominously.

"Oh no, don't tell me it's the ghost of Benjamin and Harriet's child that died in mysterious circumstances in that very room she's approaching," Klaus mumbled, sarcastically by her side as Josie and Lizzie giggled. He'd been doing that incessant know-it-all act all night, the twins only encouraging said behaviour. Just because he didn't love a good ghost story didn't mean everyone else around the fire felt the same way. She rolled her eyes in his direction and then continued the story, even if he had almost spoiled the ending.

"Come to ruin my night even more?" Caroline muttered sarcastically as he sat down on the log beside her when the kids had retired to their tents, his hands shoved into his coat pockets. The last thing she felt like was his opinions and all Caroline wanted to do was enjoy her toasted marshmallow in peace. She watched it cooking within the flames, she always did like them extra gooey but crispy at the same time.

"Ghost stories are stupid, Caroline."

"Glad to see that thousand year-old vocabulary could come up with such an intelligent adjective," she scowled, turning to face him. Even in her frustration, Caroline was finding it difficult not to find him attractive in the firelight. Although Caroline was beginning to realise he looked good in any environment. "Anyway they are not stupid to young kids at a campout. I certainly enjoyed many in my time."

"When you were a mere mortal and ghosts seemed like the scariest thing ever," he explained. "You seem to forget that most of these kids could probably obliterate the ghost of Benjamin and Harriet's child in a nano second, let alone be scared of them."

"That's not the point," she spluttered. "They all deserve some semblance of a childhood."

"Maybe so," he murmured. "But they aren't ordinary children, love."

"I realise that but it doesn't mean they deserve any less," she growled. "Tell me, is that how you treat Hope?"

"Excuse me?" He baulked, his eyes suddenly blazing with something resembling frustration. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

"That just because she possesses supernatural powers she doesn't deserve to be treated like a normal kid every now and again," Caroline pressed. She could tell Klaus was sensitive but she'd never been one to hide her true feelings with him and wasn't going to start now. She could tell his body had grown incredibly tense beside her, his gaze focused solely on the orange flames crackling before them.

Klaus remained still and Caroline wasn't too sure whether he was going to bite back or brood in prolonged silence. She'd witnessed both in the past and wouldn't have put either past him. After his unexpected arrival and that childish tent building exercise, Caroline wasn't too sure what to expect from the temperamental hybrid. Maybe she'd gone too far by making some parental suggestions but everything she'd said was true. As talented as she was, Hope deserved to experience some normal traditions.

"She always liked fairytales when I read them," he admitted. "And making beignets at the compound, especially when Rebekah ended up covered in icing sugar." Caroline hadn't expected that response but for some reason it caused extra warmth to spread throughout her body and she knew it wasn't just due to the fire.

"Oh no," she exclaimed, watching as her neglected marshmallow threatened to slip off the stick and into the fire. Caroline pulled it back just in time, attempting to grab the charcoal blob before it was dropped. If there was one thing she hated, it was wasting a perfectly good snack. In her haste and a certain Klaus- induced daze she'd forgotten just how hot said snack would be. "Ow," she shrieked, her fingers feeling like they were on fire. Being a vampire she knew any injury would heal quickly but that didn't mean it didn't surprise her.

Klaus wasted no time pulling it from her grasp and throwing it away, his hands covering hers protectively. Their eyes met, dark blue on light in the firelight and Caroline instantly forgot the burning sensation. His fingers found hers, massaging them slowly like he was trying to ease any pain. Caroline was struggling not to give into every urge that was coursing through her body. Why did he have to blow back into town unexpectedly and cause all of these feelings to rush back? "I promise I won't teach her this particular technique."

"Good to know, love," he smiled, his hands still fastened over hers. She wanted to respond to his admission but the moment seemed to have passed and before Caroline knew it, Klaus had politely excused himself. Sitting by the fire Caroline wasn't quite sure what had happened but she couldn't quite forget just how comforting his hand had felt on hers. She shook her head, attempting to remove the barrage of feelings. She was just glad they'd both be with staying with kids so she wouldn't be tempted to make a late night visit to his tent during the night.

Campsite - 5 hours later

Klaus awoke suddenly in the night, it was definitely a down side to having such exceptional vampire hearing. He could hear the faint sound of splashing, knowing it was coming from the nearby lake. Every protective, paternal instinct was telling Klaus to investigate as he watched over his peacefully sleeping daughter. He unzipped the tent and walked into the night air, suddenly wishing he'd put on an extra layer to ward off the chill.

It was dark and still for the most part but Klaus could still hear the splashing as he made his way to the lake. What he hadn't expected as he rounded the corner past the large trees was a silhouette crouching by the bank in the distance. He didn't even need to question that shape because he knew her almost as well as himself. What Klaus wasn't expecting was her to be here at this time of night.

His initial instinct was to scoop her into his arms greedily but Klaus knew just what Caroline would think about that particular move. He watched intently from the shadows as she dunked her hands in the water and placed them on her blonde locks purposefully.

"I never took you for the midnight swim kind of person," he uttered. She turned around quickly, almost losing her balance in the process.

"Well, I never took you for the stalking type, oh actually I did..." she snapped. "Do you always skulk around in the dark like that?"

"You woke me up, so its hardly my fault," he drawled, moving from the shadows and into the silvery moonlight. "You could have been one of the children drowning for all I knew."

"Well, it's okay, you can go back to your tent now," she said dismissively and walking purposefully towards him.

"So, you're not even going to tell me what you're doing?" She stopped still, mere inches from his face before speaking.

"If you must know, I managed to get some marshmallow in my hair. The last thing I need is some sticky, white goo stuck on me." Without thinking Klaus, leaned over and ran his hand through her damp, golden waves.

"It seems like you managed to get rid of it," he murmured, his hand still lodged in her hair. Her eyes searched his madly almost like she was trying to read his thoughts. Suddenly she stepped aside, the moment gone.

"You can't just do this Klaus."

"Do what, love?"

"Just show up here and expect to pick up where we left off," she stammered.

"I'm not trying to pressure you, Caroline," he soothed. "I did say however long it takes and I fully intend on keeping that promise."

"I wasn't sure..."

"Trust me, there's nothing I've ever been more sure about," he implored. "I thought that would have been obvious by now."

"In all the time Hope has been at my school, I've barely seen you, Klaus. I wasn't sure whether things had changed..."

"I didn't want to interfere," he explained, moving closer. "I trust you implicitly to teach my daughter, in fact there isn't anyone I trust more than you."

"But.."

"That's why I knew she was safe with you and when you mentioned also doing normal things with Hope earlier, I knew my instincts had been correct."

"You mean..."

"Yes," he interrupted again.

"Are you going to let me talk?"

"I was merely returning the favour, love," Klaus smirked. What Caroline did next he wasn't expecting. Her arms snaking their way around his waist and those pink lips he dreamed about constantly finding his.

Klaus pulled her flush against him, his tongue tracing its way along her lips and dipping into her warmth, relishing in the taste of marshmallows and also the feelings she was evoking within him. Klaus hadn't been expecting her to kiss him but he certainly wasn't going to waste his opportunity.

After what seemed like an eternity, they pulled apart, albeit reluctantly. Klaus knew her smile exactly mirrored the goofy one plastered on his face at that very moment.  

"I think you need to come back to the school with me tomorrow, Mikaelson."

"Oh really," he grinned, cocking his left eyebrow. Although given their past in the woods, Klaus knew now certainly wasn't the time or the place with their children sleeping nearby.

"There's a certain cheque that has been burning a hole in my desk drawer that I need to give back, you know however long it takes and all."

You can read and review this drabble HERE 

[captainswanluver]

CS FF: Second Chances

Summary: Killian comes clean to Emma and David.  He then gets a second chance at proposing to Emma the right way.

Rating: G

Note: So I was less than pleased with the way that proposal went down.   I’m hoping they right their wrong in the next couple of episodes.  But, until then, this is how I would like for it to go.   Hope you enjoy it!  ~Steph

...Second Chances: Part 1/1...

Emma woke up with a smile on her face.  Her eyes slowly fluttered open and landed on her engagement ring, the sun making the diamond sparkle.  She turned over, anxious to welcome her fiancé to a new day.  To the beginning of their lives together.  The smile slid from Emma's lips as her gaze landed on his empty spot beside her. She ran her hand along the imprint of his form, finding it cold.  

Emma got out of bed and made her way downstairs.  She found Killian sitting at the kitchen table. The smile reappeared on her lips as she came up behind him, wrapping her arms around him and settling her chin on his shoulder.

"I was hoping to wake up next to my new fiancé today," she said, kissing his neck.

Killian squeezed his eyes closed.

"Apologies, love.  I had difficulty sleeping."

"I have trouble sleeping when I’m excited too."

Emma sat down next to him and his eyes moved to her engagement ring.  He had been so excited to give it to her, but it wasn't supposed to happen like it did.  He didn't want to begin their life together with this terrible secret between them. He knew he could very well lose her for good, but it was a risk he knew he had to take.

Killian swallowed roughly as he met her eyes.

"Emma, there's something I need to tell you," he said.

This time, Emma didn't miss the conflicted and upset look in his eyes. She took his hand in hers.  

"Whatever it is, just tell me.  We'll get through it together, like we always do."

His tongue lashed at his lips. "I-

Just then, Emma's cell phone rang.  She picked it up off the table, sighing heavily.  "Sorry, it's my dad."

Killian blew out a breath as she answered the phone.

"Hi, Dad.  What's going on?"  Emma let out a groan as she listened to her father.  "Okay, I'll be right there."

She hung up the phone and met Killian's eyes.

"Everything okay, love?"

"The Evil Queen is back."

"Well, that certainly can't be good."

Emma shook her head. "Nope." She paused, eyeing him.  "I'm sorry, but I really have to get down to the station.  Can we talk about this tonight?"

Killian nodded, simultaneously relieved for the reprieve and terrified that he wouldn't gain the courage he needed to tell her a third time.

"Of course, love," he said.

"Great," she replied, placing a kiss on his lips.  She pulled back and met his eyes, as she squeezed his hand. "And Killian?  Don't worry.  There's nothing you could ever say to me that would make me not want to marry you or love you any less."

Killian managed a weak smile, but no response, as she released his hand and headed to the stairs. He could only hope that was true.

...

It was dark by the time Emma returned home.  Normally, Killian would have gone to the station to help Emma and David, but he couldn't bear to face them.  He heard the front door open as he sat on the couch in the dark.

"Killian?"  Emma called, as she flipped on the lights and entered the living room.  "Why are you sitting here in the dark?"

Killian stood up and came to face her.  

"We need to finish our conversation from this morning, Emma."

She nodded.  "Okay."

Killian sucked in a deep breath, half-hoping he would be interrupted again and given another temporary reprieve.  

"Do you recall the other day when you and Henry went canoeing and you wanted to go in the shed?"

Emma bobbed her head. "And I said I could tell you were lying to me."

"Aye. I was, but it wasn’t about seeing Archie.  Your father was in the shed, gathering the potions Regina gave you."

Emma's brow furrowed. "Why would he want those?  Is he trying to find a spell to wake my mother on his own?"

Killian shook his head. "No, he was trying to determine where his father was prior to his death."

"His father?"

"Aye, the Evil Queen told him that his death was not an accident, so he wanted to learn who killed his father," Killian said, his voice weakening with every word.

"Why didn't he just tell me? I could've helped him."

Killian shook his head. "David wasn't thinking straight. He hadn't slept in days and was missing your mother terribly.  He became consumed with seeking vengeance and knew you wouldn't approve."

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. "But you would."

Killian nodded his head.  "That is precisely what he was hoping, but I know what seeking revenge can do and I didn't want him going down that dark path.  I tried to stop him."

A smile pulled at Emma's lips.  "Of course you did.  You're not that man anymore."

Killian dropped his gaze to the ground. "He discovered that King George had ordered his father to be killed so he went to the jail to confront him."

"Oh no," Emma said.

"He had lost all control, Emma. He was holding a knife to his throat when I arrived there."

"Please tell me you stopped him."

Killian nodded. "Aye, that I did.  He wasn't thinking clearly and, in the end, I helped him realize that he would be making a terrible mistake."

Emma sighed in relief. "Thank you.  I wish you hadn't lied to me and told me what was going on, but I understand why you didn't. You didn't have to be so worried about telling me."

She placed a kiss on his lips and started to turn away, when Killian caught her hand and turned her back to face him.

"Love, I'm afraid that wasn't what I was worried about telling you."

Emma felt a lump form in her throat at the look in his eyes.

"Okay, then what was it?"

Killian swallowed roughly.  "August brought me some pages from the storybook that had been removed to give to David. They were about his father.  And when I saw the picture of his father, I...."

Killian's voice trailed off, as Emma's brow furrowed. "You what?"

He took another deep breath as he forced himself to meet her eyes. "I knew I had seen him before."

"Killian," Emma said, her voice now trembling, the look in his eyes scaring her.

He forced himself to continue.  "Emma, I found him with King George's men. They were about to kill him when I killed them first.  He thought I was saving him, but I soon made it clear I was not. He begged for his life, but it fell on deaf ears." He paused and added softly. "I killed your grandfather, Emma."

Emma gasped and took a step back. "What?  I...I can't believe this."

Killian saw the pain appear in her eyes and hated himself for putting it there. "I am so sorry, Swan. You must believe I hadn't any idea who he was.  I hadn't a clue that I was the one responsible until I saw his picture."

"I do believe that," she said softly.  "Why did you tell me?  You could've kept this to yourself."

"I wanted to tell you, Emma.  It was eating at me and I didn't want to start our life together with a secret between us.  But I was worried that you wouldn't want to marry me once you found out and that your father wouldn't want me marrying his daughter."

Emma slowly nodded. "Last night. That's what you were trying to tell me.  It wasn't about the proposal."

"Aye.  You put me on the spot.  You were so excited and I couldn’t bear to hurt you.   So I lost my nerve and felt as if I had to propose instead."

Killian looked into her eyes, so conflicted with emotion.  

He swallowed hard, as his mouth went dry.  "I...understand if you no longer want to marry me.  I understand if you want nothing more to do with me."

Emma's mouth hung open for a long moment.  She had woken up that morning so happy and had been on cloud nine all day long.  She never expected the day to end like this.

Killian waited for her to say something, anything, but no words came.  He dropped his head and turned on his heel.  Without another word, he headed to the front door and stepped outside.  He realized it had begun to snow as he walked onto the porch and down the stairs.  The flakes clung to his hair as he heard footsteps behind him.

"Killian, where are you going?"

He turned to face her. "I'll spend the night on my ship.  I will return in the morning to retrieve my belongings."

He turned around again, but Emma caught his arm and turned him to face her.

"This is your home," she said firmly.

"Emma, I don't expect you to allow me to remain out of obligation."

"I'm not.  I love you, Killian. And the fact that you wanted to come clean when you didn't have to, when you knew what it could cost you, means everything.  It proves how much you've changed."

He shook his head. "I don't deserve you, Emma.  No matter how many people I save, how hard I try to be a hero, how much good I do, I can't change my past.  I can't make up for the terrible misdeeds I’ve committed and the pain I’ve caused so many, the pain I caused your father.  You deserve so much better."

Emma took his hand in hers. "You can't live in the past, Killian.  The man who killed my grandfather is not the man I fell in love with, he is not the man standing before me right now.  That man was greedy and selfish and did not value human life.  That’s not who you are anymore."

"But it doesn't change what I did."

Emma shook her head. "No, it doesn’t.  Nothing can.  But I made you a promise a long time ago to always see the best in you and that will never change."

Killian shook his head in amazement. "I am in awe of you, Emma Swan."

Emma looked down at her ring and slowly pulled it off.  She placed it in Killian's hand, as he swallowed roughly.

"But you can't marry me, can you?" he said softly. "I understand, love."

Emma tilted her head. "I don't think you do.  I don't want to start our life together like this.  I want you to propose when the time is right and the way you planned.  When we can both look back on that moment with happiness, not regret and guilt."

Killian's eyes widened. "You mean you still want to marry me?"

Emma smiled gently. "With all my heart."

"But how can you ever look at me the same way again, Swan?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You once told me that all sins can be forgiven if someone loves you.  Well, I love you, Killian.  And nothing will ever change that."

"Perhaps I was wrong.  Perhaps there are some sins that are unforgivable, Emma."

"I don't believe that."

"Your father may feel differently when I tell him the truth."

Emma slipped her hand in his and squeezed. "You won't have to do it alone."

Killian offered her a grateful smile. "Thank you, love.”

Emma met his eyes. “Come on, let’s go back inside.”

Hands linked together, they made their way back inside their home.  

…

The next morning, Emma and Killian stood outside the loft.  Emma offered Killian a comforting smile and squeeze of his hand.  

“It’s going to be okay,” she said.

Killian managed a nod, as Emma knocked on the door.

A moment later, her father answered the door.  “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you guys.  What’s going on?”

Emma and Killian walked inside as David closed the door behind them.

“Dad, we have something to tell you.”

A smile spread across his lips and he slapped Killian on the back.  “You did it, huh?  I guess congratulations are in order.”

Killian’s gaze dropped to the floor, as Emma shook her head.

David’s eyes moved to her hand.  “Where’s the ring?”

“Dad, why don’t we sit down at the table?”

David winced at Killian.  “Oh, I’m sorry.  She said no, didn’t she?”  He turned to Emma.  “You turned him down?”

Emma sighed. “No, I didn’t.  Dad, this is not about our engagement.  Killian has something he needs to tell you and it’s not going to be easy to hear.  Please, let’s sit down.”

David’s features immediately became etched with worry as they all sat down at the table.  

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Killian looked at Emma, his tongue slowly lashing at his lips.  

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

Killian swallowed hard and sucked in a breath.  He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the pages from the storybook.  He placed them in front of David on the table.

“The other night, August came by and gave me these pictures from the storybook.  They are of your father.  He thought you might want to have them.”

David glanced at Emma, worried about what she would think of him if she learned what he had nearly done.

Killian shook his head.  “It’s okay, mate.  I told Emma everything.  She understands that you were going through a difficult time and weren’t acting yourself.”

David nodded as he looked at Emma.  “I have Hook to thank for stopping me from making a terrible mistake.”

Killian averted his gaze again and Emma reached over, linking her fingers with his.  “Go ahead, Killian.  Tell him.”

David’s brow furrowed.  “Tell me what?”

Killian felt his throat go dry.  He licked at his lips nervously.  “When I looked at the picture of your father, I recognized him.  I knew I had seen him before.”

“When?” David asked.  

Killian’s voice emerged softly. “The night he was killed.”

David shook his head in confusion. “I don’t understand.  You were there?”

“Aye.  I came upon King George’s men about to kill him, but I killed them first.”

David’s eyes widened.  “You saved my father?  Are you telling me he’s still alive out there somewhere?  Was it all a mistake?”

“Dad, just listen, please,” Emma said, as Killian shook his head, the guilt and remorse swimming in his eyes.

He took another deep breath, as his lungs began to burn.  “I could have saved him, but I didn’t.  He begged me for his life.  He begged me to spare him so he could be with his son, but I showed him no mercy.”  Killian paused and then said, “I killed your father, David.”

David shook his head violently.  “No, that’s impossible.  There must be some kind of mistake.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t.  I promise you I had no idea who he was until I saw that picture, but I am responsible for your father’s death.  I am so sorry.”

David stood up so abruptly that his chair came crashing down behind him.  His eyes flared.  “You killed my father!  You had the chance to save him, to allow him to be with his family, and you killed him instead!”

Killian slowly nodded.  “There is nothing I can say to change what I did.  The man I was back then cared about no one.   I had lost everyone I loved, lost my family, and I think perhaps I wanted to make others suffer the way I had.   I was a broken man, a terrible excuse for a human being.  I am so sorry for what I stole from you.   I don’t expect your forgiveness.  I know I don’t deserve it.  But I wanted you to know the truth.”

David turned to Emma.  “He told you the truth?”

Emma nodded.  “Yes, he was about to when I told him I had found the ring and I cornered him into proposing.  But he came clean last night.  Dad, Killian knows what he did was wrong and he feels terrible remorse.  But he didn’t have to tell me.  He didn’t have to tell you.  He could have kept it a secret, knowing what the truth could cost him, but he didn’t.”

David planted his hands on his hips and replied bitterly,  “Am I supposed to be grateful to him?”

Emma shook her head, as she felt Killian’s eyes on her.  “No, of course not.  I just mean that it proves how much he has changed.  He can’t change his past, but he is not that man anymore.  He has proven that time and again. He is the man that stopped you from making a mistake you would always regret.  He is the man that made you see vengeance is never the answer.”

David dropped his eyes to the ground.  “It doesn’t change what he took from me.”

Killian swallowed roughly.  “You’re right, it doesn’t.  Nothing can.  I’ll understand if you never want to lay eyes on me again.  I’ll understand if you no longer give your blessing for me to marry your daughter.”

David ran his hand through his hair, as he looked down at Emma.  “I really wish your mother was here right now.”

“You know what she would say, don’t you?” Emma asked.

David nodded, his voice emerging softly.  “That everyone deserves a second chance.”  He took a deep breath. “I suppose if your mother can find a way to forgive Regina and become her friend after everything she did to her, then I can find a way to get past this.  But it’s going to take some time.”

Emma smiled, as she looked at Killian.  “Thank you, Dad.”

“Aye, thank you.”

David met Emma’s eyes.  “You still want to marry him, don’t you?”

Emma bobbed her head.  “I do.”

“And you’re sure?”

Emma’s smile widened.  “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my entire life.”

Killian squeezed her hand in his, as he managed a small smile.

David blew out a breath, as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Emma’s forehead.  “Then I won’t stand in your way.  All I want is for you to be happy, Emma.”

“Thank you, Dad,” she replied.

She and Killian stood up, hands remaining entwined, as they exited the loft.

…

Weeks later, Emma cuddled up next to Killian on the couch, the bowl of popcorn with Milk Duds resting between them.  

“What is this movie again, love?”

“The Goonies.  You’re going to love it.  It has a treasure hunt and a ship and bad guys and danger.”

“Sounds perfect,” he said, kissing her temple as she pressed play on the remote.

Killian’s eyes kept drifting over to Emma’s face as she watched the movie and chomped on the popcorn and Milk Duds.  It was 45 minutes in and he hadn’t been able to concentrate on it at all.  He hadn’t a clue what was happening.  His gaze moved to Emma again and this time she caught his eye, her mouth full of popcorn.  Her brow furrowed, as she managed a smile.

“What?” she mumbled.

“Nothing, Swan.  I just have a hard time tearing my eyes away from you.”

Emma swallowed and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips, before dropping her head onto his shoulder and digging back into the popcorn.  Killian peered into the half empty bowl.  Emma’s hand was rummaging in search of a Milk Dud when her fingers touched something decidedly not candy or popcorn.  Her eyes widened as she lifted her head from Killian’s shoulder and then pulled the object out of the bowl and held it up.  It was her engagement ring.  Emma’s mouth dropped open as she turned to look at Killian.  She hadn’t noticed that he had dropped to one knee in front of her.  

“Killian,” she breathed.  

He pulled the ring from her fingers and wiped it on his jeans to rid it of any butter.  He then held it back up to her.  

“Emma Swan, you are undoubtedly the best thing to ever happen to me.  You made me see that I could change, that I could be a better man.  You made me believe in second chances.  And that’s what this is right now.  A second chance to do this the right way, the way you deserve.  No secrets, no lies, just you and me, love.  You are the strongest, bravest, most caring, beautiful woman I have ever met.  I know I don’t deserve you, but if you’ll give me the chance, I will make it my duty to spend everyday of our lives together trying to prove myself worthy of you.  I want a future with you, Emma.  I want a family with you.  I love you with all of my heart and soul.  Emma Swan, will you do me the great honor of marrying me?”

Emma nodded so hard Killian thought she might injure herself.

“Yes! I’ll marry you, Killian!”

A smile spread across his lips as she held her trembling hand out to him and he slid the ring onto her finger.  Emma grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up to her, his lips crashing into hers.  The bowl of popcorn landed on the floor, spilling its contents, but neither of them noticed.  

Emma pulled back, her forehead resting on his.  “I love you so much, Killian.  I can’t wait to become your wife.”

Killian cupped her cheek in his hand.  “Neither can I.  Thank the gods above for second chances.”

Emma laughed and then kissed him again.

……………………………......….....THE END………….......………................

Thanks for reading!  I hope you enjoyed it.  I’d appreciate hearing what you thought. ~Steph

[redrobin-detective]

Don't know if this had been asked before but how would resolve/explored/develop the batfamily dynamics pre 52? I don't know if it was you or someone else, but it was brought up that the idea of Damian being more Dick's kid than Bruce's would be a neat idea to explore. Bruce would still bond w/Damian but he'd have to deal w/Damian seeing Dick as his real dad and Dick staying Batman for Damian's sake. Tim and Dick repairing their bond while the former and Damian would learn to accept each other.

Sorry, I know, I’ve held onto this for nearly a week but this is such a big ask I’ve been thinking about how to best describe and format it so I’ve been doing it bit by bit. Because I’ve given quite a bit of thought to how to integrate the ideas of pre-Flashpoint smoothly into N52, using the plot lines and developments from the later without sacrificing the former. I think it could have easily have been done and been more interesting because DC dropped off on some intense plotlines. *Also to save my fingers, Pre = Pre-Flashpoint/N52

Dick/Dami- I have done a few posts about how close they were pre and how Dami and Bruce really weren’t. Bruce was not the best father before he came back from the dead and had no interest in working with Damian in order to help the boy heal. In my fantasy, this would have played out. Damian would have refused to leave Dick’s side as his partner while now Bruce is hurt/confused on why his son now doesn’t want to be with him. I want Damian and Bruce to have a relationship but I want B to have to work for it. Nightwing and Robin shows Dick and Dami together with Batman and Red Robin has Tim and Bruce teamed but slightly at odds with each other, the once close relationship showing strain while Dick and Dami are going strong. Eventually Bruce earns Damian’s love and trust and begins patrolling with Bruce but he still remains immensely close to Dick and, no one says it aloud, but everyone considers him more Dick’s child than Bruce’s. By the time of Damian’s death, it should be Dick who is outraged and inconsolable with grief barely able to function while Bruce goes into his angry/panicked mode because he’d barely gotten any time with Dami and now he’s gone.

Tim- Just Tim in general would need a lot of work done and I’m not just saying that cause he’s my favorite. Red Robin left us with some pretty massive loose ends not to mention Timmy had be been bent and twisted by his experiences to the point that he was different and not always in good healthy ways. In Batman and Red Robin, we see the strain slowly start to show. B is still mad for Tim almost killing Boomerang at the same time he’s upset at how much Tim has grown-up and grown away. He’s also lowkey upset about Dami and, I don’t want to say he’s using Tim to fill in until Damian comes back but it’s implied. He also becomes increasingly concerned for Tim’s mental/physical health. Tim meanwhile is a slow, steady downward slope of depression and feelings of isolation and hurt/anger/insecurity over how the batfam treated him the past few years. First half would show the two fighting and generally slipping down, maybe Tim has a bad health scare with spleen and finally enough is enough and they focus on pulling Tim back. Also like to see a resolution to the Ra’s arc in which Ra’s comes in and tries to sway Tim over to his side which becomes more possible as Tim slips further away from the batfam. The whole fam/Titans get together and help get Red in a better place. (also wishful thinking, as all this occurs, Tim begins to realize his love for Conner and is dealing with that on top of everything. It spills out one night and is delighted/terrified to find his best friend has felt the same way for a long time. they agree to put any relationship on hold until Tim is in a better place but they sneak a few kisses and the support really helps Tim get back together)

Tim/Jason- Just as an aside I’d really like to see this (brotherly/friend) relationship develop. I like that N52 had these two be friends but it drove me nuts that after 6 years of Jay wanting nothing more than Tim’s death they’re besties? I’d like to think Jay would be one of the first to see how bad things have gotten for Tim because he’s been there, he know what it’s like to be the forgotten Robin. And Jay is still angry but his head is finally starting to clear from the Pit and he acknowledges that what happened with him and B wasn’t Tim’s fault. And as he watches Tim slowly spiral downwards with seemingly no help, Jay decides he won’t see another Robin die. Jason approaches Alfred, then B about Tim’s health and ways to help. It’s tense and awkward as they test the waters but they agree to, separately, help get Tim straight. It’s slow going but between Outlaw missions, Jay stops by Tim’s apartment and hangs out with him. They patrol when B is with Dami, they talk and properly get to know each other. They find they have a bit in common and actually like talking. Tim finally talks about some of the messed up things that happened and lets Jay know how bad things got and Jay finally talks about his traumas and comes to terms with them. As Tim is still angry at Dick/Bruce, Jason becomes a confidant in the batfam.

Jason- Actually RHATO Rebirth Jason is a pretty good idea of what I’m thinking of. We have a Jason who, after a few years finally is able to move past the Pit’s influence and think clearly for the first time in a while. It makes him realize that most of his actions were done out of anger so he re-evaluates. B sees this and takes the opportunity to reach out which Jason appreciates and returns by telling B about Tim. That’s where B and J start making things right, when they’re talking about how to best help Tim, they’re also covertly talking about how to deal with what happened. It gets out that Hood is a Bat and Jay is forced to ally himself properly with his family in order to avoid being torn apart by the criminal community. Jay will never be the golden son, he agrees that he won’t purposely kill but he toes the line far more than Bruce is comfortable with. The trust between them is razor thin but they’re trying. B hates it but he uses Jason as an agent who does the things B cannot/will not do. Jay spends only about half the time in Gotham, the other half with the Outlaws (NOT Kory/Roy, Jay needs his own team not hand-me-downs, Artemis/Bizarro?). He gets on better terms with Tim, but is still at odds with Dick even more so on Tim’s behalf for replacing the kid when he was down. Eventually learns to like Dami and becomes a proper big brother with him. I’d like a side arc seeing Jason going back to school? Going to GCU maybe with Steph under a false ID, that’d be nice.

Cass and the BOP- Having read Cass’s Batgirl run I think it’d be a natural progression that she’d fit in with the Birds. Cass loves her new family but she also needs space for herself to grow and she remembers Bruce was rather suffocating with her. She moves in fulltime with Barbara on the excuse she’s there to help/respond quickly but honestly she’s working on bettering her people skills and needs that constant human interaction. Babs teaches her to read when not on missions and the other Birds are very supportive of Cass. Cass also trains the other Birds in techniques and really hones the Team’s skills. They become just as formidable and respected as the Bats. They learn to coordinate better so they each can have more times off. The Birds would have their own section of Gotham as “theirs”, their own rogues gallery, get involved in the ladies’ personal lives. Barb is still struggling with her on again/off again relationship with Dick, now complicated by children in all but name, Damian and Cass (lol Bruce lost two children to other people). Cass is working on being a person and not a weapon but trying to keep up her impressive skills. Steph is a reserve member, available if needed but she’s really trying to ally herself with the Bats. She and Cass though retain a strong relationship, Steph because her relationship with Tim has soured and she needs someone and Cass because Steph was her first friend.

Stephanie- I’d basically like a continuation of her Batgirl run which was marvelous and go read it. Stephanie is still trying to prove herself to that Bats that she’s worthy of the cape and cowl and, for the most part, she’s earned it. Bruce now grants her the Batgirl title and keeps her on the roster and her belt equipped. But there’s always gonna be some tension between them and he’s undeniably harsher on her than the others. She patrols often with Dick and Damian who like/trust her more and, a lot of times, if Dick is working or whatever it will just be her and Damian. She relishes the big sister role and the feminine influence is good on Damian (though he’ll never admit to it). Continues her classes at GCU, nearly falls over when Jason sits next to her in her English Lit class. The big problem for her is keeping up with the other more confident/well-trained heroes and also repairing her relationship with Tim. She messed up, he took it badly, she moved up in batfam, he started spiraling out of control. He’s still angry about what went down but recently has been trying to repair the relationship. But too much has happened and they’ve both changed so much. Neither likes admitting how different from Robin and Spoiler they are. Her and Jay discuss how to handle Tim while studying poetry. As Tim’s health improves, he lets Steph in more and they start their friendship over. Also very close to the BOP/Cass and while she’ll hang out with them a lot out of costume, she’s determined to be a Bat. Maybe after she gains some confidence, she might switch over to the BOP for good.

[yaboinarutoo]

Steph Doesn’t Even Live Here By MurderAlice

A short silly fic for the Batfam! Bruce just wanted to finish his work but somehow, he became the prime suspect of a Waffle Iron murder ( God Rest It's Soul) and in dire need of a new lock. And maybe different children.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9179548

“FATHER!” “BRUCEEEE!” “B~!”

Bruce leaned back, his eyes pinched shut with a slow sigh. The day’s tension suddenly came barreling on, his shoulders gaining a new weight that only his children were capable of bringing. Fighting the underbelly of Gotham was an ease compared to trying to settle his unruly kids down.

Quick, stomping feet came closer to his study before the door was slammed open, and in came a hoard of children he really did not understand how he attained.

Dick slammed into him, knocking his chest straight into the edge of his desk, but just before he could straighten himself out, in came Jason's bulky weight, soon followed by Tim and Damians sprawling limbs.

“BRUCE DID YOU DO IT?” Dick yelled into his ear, his grin glowing in mischief. Jason’s gloating laugh following his words.

Damian shoved Dick aside with a hiss and a glare, before turning his frown back down to Bruce, “Father, punish these fools for daring to even try and blame it on you. As if you would ever stoop to their level of stupidity!”

Jason’s gloating laugh got even louder, causing Tim to shove him down with a frown from where he was laughing into his ear. Damian’s glare turned to Jason, his teeth bared in irritated anger.

Before any more of his boys could cause him any more harm ( too late for that ), Bruce pushed their weight back off of his chair, freeing the digging desk corner from his aching ribs The boys still continued to yapper away, with Jason’s laughter overpowering their fighting. He took a moment to watch, watching for any signs of what the problem could even be for them to come with such...enthusiasm.

Raising his voice above the quarreling, Bruce finally asked the question he knew he would later regret, “Can I get an explanation for this interruption of my work?”

All four boys turned, their squabble coming to a complete halt. When it got to the point of uncomfortable staring,  Tim cleared his throat and said,  “Someone broke Stephs waffle iron. As in, the waffle iron is completely burnt to the crisp and is no longer with us, God bless its soul. “

With that, the boys all crossed their eyes and murmured “Amen”, with even Damian nodding in respect.  

“Let me get this straight. Someone broke Stephanie's waffle iron and you guys believe it's me? Why does Stephanie even have a waffle iron in the Manor in the first place? She doesn't even live here.”, Bruce replied.

Four sets of eyes stared at him in disbelief. Dick shook his head in disappointment. “Ignoring the complete lack of respect towards the waffle iron," Dick started ,“God bless its soul “, again the amen and nod from Damian before continuing, “Ohana means family. And Family means nobody gets left behind.” , finished Dick with a firm nod.

Before Bruce could begin to even attempt to question his first son, Jason interrupted, “And now ignoring Dickie’s annoying Disney quotes, did you do it B-man? Don’t act like we don’t know about those secret late night snacks. We can see it on that waist old man.” He said as he trailed his eyes over Bruce’s body, staring into his eyes with a quick eyebrow raise and a sassy smirk.

Dick burst into loud laughter before attempting to hide it with a cough, as Tim gave a loud snort of upcoming laughter behind his hand covering his mouth. Damian, the only hope to Bruce’s dying pride, quickly looked away as he tried to hide the laughter in his eyes and smoothen the frown back into his face.  Jason’s smirk turned into a full blown prideful grin, white teeth peeking through.

Bruce couldn’t even attempt to hide his small glee at seeing his sons in such a state of childish happiness. He gave out a rather sad excuse of an annoyed sigh, and before he could begin to question his children once again, Stephanie and Cassandra burst into the room and the boys quickly froze.

“What up, batfam! It’s me, and my Queen, in the hiz house!” , boomed Stephanie as she tromped on through, Cass right on her heels with a wide smile and swinging arms. They stood in the middle of the room, expecting comments from the family, but at the tense silence, Steph’s smile weakened into a frown.

“Okay so like, who died?” , she asked as Cass scanned the room in confusion. The boys continued to be frozen in silence, the air thickening as they questioned whether to bring up the lost casualty of Stephanie’s fallen friend.

As the air suffocated the room in silence, bodies tense and eyes wide with fear,  Tim sucked in a large, loud amount of air , shattering the booming stillness.

“Bruce is pregnant!”

All eyes quickly zoomed in on Bruce, silence strangling the room as Bruce stood frozen with wide eyes and open mouth. Tim’s heavy breathing was the only sound, his hand pointing straight at Bruce, eyes wide as well but filled with scared nervousness.

As the seconds ticked by, Stephanie awoke from her shock and uttered a quiet “w-what?” to Bruce. Every eye seemed to burn holes into Bruce, the silence continuing to strangle the room.

“WITH JOY AND HAPPINESS” ,Jason shouted, forced smiled on his face as he heaved, arms out as he did jazz hands. He desperately looked at his brothers, cursing in his head as they continued to be frozen in shock. With gritted teeth, his slammed his foot into Dick’s, causing the older man to yell out a hissed “Fuck!”, before he quickly grinned and let out a forced booming laugh.

“Y-yeah! Squidward over here has finally realized..umm.. the wrong in his brooding days!” , Dick let out another obnoxious  laugh, Tim letting out a small “haha” in support of his brother.

But despite their best ( or awful ) efforts, their laughter lowered at the room relentless stillness. Time seemed to stop, but a firm knock on the study door burst the timeless bubble.

They all snapped their necks towards the door, all eyes watching as Alfred walked in. Alfred scanned the room, his usual deadpan look not giving anything away. He quirked his eyebrows up and turned to Bruce, asking “Is this a bad time?” in his dry drawl.

Bruce, still unable to properly process what just happened, awoken to Alfred’s words, whispering “I-i'm pregnant?” in disbelief.

“Congratulations, sir. I’m very happy to hear that. Now, I’ve made snacks, so if you all would go downstairs, it would be much appreciated. And Stephanie?” At that Steph’s head snapped to Alfred, mouth trying to form words before nodding her head in attention.

“I’ve gotten a new waffle iron to replace the burned one. I must say, I haven't the foggiest as to how Miss Cassandra and yourself managed to do such a thing to it, but it has been taken care off. “ And with that, Alfred walked out of the room, his retreating steps echoing through the Manor walls.

The silence stretched, but Stephanie then beamed and shouted a “thank you!” before pulling Cass towards the kitchen.

“Let’s go and try to make more of those Buzzfeed waffles Cass! I think we should try the…..” and her voice faded away into the walls of the Manor.

And there stood Bruce and his boys, each in varying states of disbelief as they stood in silence, all eyes on the Bruce. His eyes were downcast, trying to make sense of the situation with hands fisted at his side.

“I-i’m pregnant…”