#WE'LL GET HIM SOON!!!!

[krnzysh]

awww zhongli 😧 sana all— i want to get diluc so bad on the standard banner too but im scared maybe i'll get qiqi instead

SAME!!! nasa top 10 wants ko si diluc huhuehaifuhaf if I ever lose the 50/50 I'd want it to be jean or him😭😭😭

(help I remember the skyward I got on the standard banner pls it's still lvl 20 HWAUDHIAUDH)

[flowercrowngods]

who did this to you. part 3

🤍🌷 read part 1 here | read part 2 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie. now with robin!

The number rings in his head, echoing off the inside of his skull and sinking lower and lower until his heart strings join the symphony that leaves him shaking as the memory of Harrington’s slurred voice is drowned out by the dial tone that feels harrowingly like a flatline right now. 

Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.

Eddie doesn’t really feel like his body belongs to him anymore, or like there’s anything left inside him other than panic and fear and that stupid, stupid shaking that he can’t suppress even as he bites his knuckles. Hard. 

The pain helps a little not to startle too much when the dial tone stops and a female voice begins speaking to him. Still he almost drops the phone, cursing under his breath as he pulls his hair to collect himself and get his voice to work. 

“H— Hi, hello, Mrs Buckley? This is, uh. I. I’m. A friend of Robin’s, could you, uh—“ 

“Oh, of course, dear,” the woman says, and Eddie feels his eyes beginning to prick with how nice she sounds even through the phone. 

Does she know Steve, too? Would she worry if she knew? Would she curse Eddie for not taking him to the hospital right away? Would she blame him if anything happened? 

“I’m sorry? What did you say your name was?” she asks, repeating herself by the sound of it. 

He blanks, for a whole five seconds, before he spots a note stuck to the fridge saying Don’t forget to eat, Eddie :-)

“Eddie,” he croaks. “Uh, Eddie Munson.”

“Alright, Eddie Munson, I’ll see if I can grab Robin for you. You have a good day, dear, yes?” 

No. “Thanks.” 

The hand clenched in his hair pulls tighter and tighter until the tears fall and he can pretend it’s from pain and not from— whatever the fuck is happening. 

He waits, phone pressed to his ear with a kind of desperation he’s never really felt, and never wants to feel again. He doesn’t even know what to tell Robin; what to say. It’s not like they ever hang out or have anything to say to each other, so why would she— 

“Munson?” Robin’s voice appears on the other end, a little too loud for Eddie’s certain state, and he does drop the phone this time, scrambling to catch it and only making the situation worse as it dangles by his knees. 

He drops to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and reaching for the phone again. 

“Hi.” 

“What do you want? How’d you even get this number? I swear, if you—“ 

“It’s Blue. I mean, Steve. Harrington.” 

That shuts her right up, and Eddie clenches his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to keep the tremor out of his voice if only he takes a moment to breathe. 

The moment stretches. And Robin’s voice is wary and quiet when she speaks again. 

“What about Steve.” 

Eddie rubs his face, leaving more dirt and grime to fill the tear tracks, and clenches his fist before his mouth. 

“Eddie,” Robin demands, dangerous now. Nothing left of the rambling, bubbling mess he knows her to be on the school hallways. “What. About. Steve.” 

“He… He’s hurt.” 

There’s a bit of a commotion on the other end, before Robin declares, “I’m coming over. You tell me everything.” 

“You— I mean, he’s in the hospital with my uncle, so—“ 

“I am. Coming. Over,” she says, enunciating every word as though she were making a threat. Maybe she is. But the certainty in her voice helps a little, anchors him the same way that Wayne’s calmness did. “And you tell me everything.” 

Eddie finds himself nodding along, knowing intuitively that there is nothing that could stop her now. Knowing that he doesn’t want to stop her. 

“‘Kay.” It’s a pathetic little sound, all choked up and tiny. She doesn’t comment on it. 

One second he hears her determined exhale, the next she’s hung up on him and Eddie is greeted by the flatline again. He lets out a shuddering breath and leans his head back against the wall. 

Breathing is hard again, but it’s all he has to do now, all that’s left to do, so he focuses. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. His lungs are burning and there’s something wrong about the way he pulls in air and keeps it there, desperately latching onto it until the very last second, his exhales more of a gasping cough than calm and controlled. 

It takes a while. Longer than it should. But with Harrington’s blood still on his hands, with his heartbeat in his ears so loud he can’t even hear the words Wayne used to say about breathing in through the mouth or the nose or… or something, he— 

He’s fine. He’s home. Wayne’s got Blue, and Buckley is on her way, and… He’s fine. 

People don’t just die. 

They don’t. 

He’s fine. 

Eventually, Eddie manages to breathe steadily, the air no longer shuddering and his hands no longer shaking. It’s stupid, really, being so worked up over someone he doesn’t even really know. Sure, everyone knows Steve fucking Harrington, and everyone sees Steve fucking Harrington — whether they want it or not. He has a way of drawing eyes toward him even if all he does is walk the halls with his dorky smile and that stupidly charming swagger he’s got going on. Always matching his shoes to his outfit.

Eddie can relate.

Always reaching out to touch the person he’s talking to; clapping their back or shoulder, lightly shoving them in jest, ruffling their hair or chasing them through the halls, moving and holding himself like teenage angst can’t reach him. Like he belongs wherever he goes. Like he’s so, so comfortable in his own skin. Like the clothes he wears aren’t armour but just a part of him; a means of self-expression. 

Again, Eddie can relate. He can relate to all of this. 

It’s almost like the two of them aren’t so different after all. Just going about it differently. 

And now he’s… Bleeding. Slurring his speech. Wheezing his breath. And Eddie feels protective. Eddie feels responsible. Like he should be there, like he should get to know more about him. About Steve. About Blue. 

But he can’t. And he won’t. So he gets up with a groan that expresses his frustration and the need to make a sound, to fight the oppressive silence that only encourages his thoughts to run in obsessive little circles, and he hangs up the phone that’s been dangling beside him all this time. 

He needs a smoke. 

He needs a smoke and a blunt and a drink and for this day to be over and for time to revert and to leave him out of whatever business he stumbled into by opening the door to the boathouse and, apparently, Steve Harrington’s life. 

But unfortunately, the universe doesn’t seem to care about what he needs, because just as he steps outside and goes to light his cig, he catches sight of a harried looking Robin Buckley, standing on the pedals of her bike as she kicks them, her hair blowing in the wind to reveal a frown between her brows. A wave of unease overcomes Eddie, an unease he can’t really place. Maybe it’s the set of her jaw, or the tension in her shoulders, or maybe it’s the worry and anger she exudes. 

It never occurred to him before that Robin Buckley might not be a person you’d want to set off. And not because of her uncontrollable rambles. 

“Munson!” she calls over, carelessly dropping her bike in the driveway and stalking toward him. 

Almost as if summoning a shield, Eddie does light the cigarette. Pretends like the smoke can protect him. 

She doesn’t stop at the foot of the steps, though, climbs them in two leaps and gets all up in his space with that unwavering look of determination — so unwavering, in fact, that it almost looks like wrath. Cold. Eddie wants to shrink away from it, not at all daring to wonder what could make her look like that upon hearing that Steve’s hurt. 

I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture.

But those are the words of a semi-conscious teenage boy beat to a pulp, they can’t— There’s no way. Eddie misheard him, or Steve was talking about some kind of inside joke, using the wrong terminology with the wrong guy. It happens. It happens when you’re out of it, really! The shit he’s said when he was shot up, canned up, all strung out and high as a kite… He’d be talking of monsters, too, and mean some benign shit. 

But the way Harrington looked, none of that was benign. The bruising all over his face, the blood still dripping from the wound by his temple or his nose, the way he held himself, breath rattling in his lungs, or— 

“Hey!” Buckley demands his attention, giving him a light shove; just enough to catch his attention, really, and just what he needed to snap out of it. Still the smoke hits his lungs wrong and he coughs up a lung, further cementing his role of the pathetic little guy today. 

“Hey,” he says lamely, his voice still croaking as he crushes the half-smoked cigarette under his boot. “Sorry.” He doesn’t know for what. But it feels appropriate. 

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at him as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. 

“Tell me,” she says at last, and even though there is a tremor in her voice, she sounds nothing short of demanding. “I want the whole story, and I want it now.” 

And so he does. He tells her everything, bidding her inside because he needs the relative safety of the trailer even though the air in here is stuffy and still faintly smells blue. He pours them both some coffee and some tea, because asking what she wants doesn’t feel right in the middle of telling her how he found her supposed best friend beat to shit in the boathouse he went to to forget about the world for a while. 

She stills as she listens to him, staring ahead into the middle distance somewhere beneath the floor and the walls, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee. Eddie stumbles over his words a lot, unsettled by her stillness, her lack of reaction. She doesn’t even react to his fuck-ups. People usually do.

He wants to ask. Where are you right now? What have you seen? What’s on your mind? What the fuck is happening?

But he doesn’t ask, instead he tells her more about Steve. About how he seemed to forget where he was. About the pain he was in. About the smiles nonetheless. The way he reassured Eddie. 

That one finally gets a choked little huff from her, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. 

“Yeah, that sounds like him alright. He’s such a dingus.” 

There is so much affection in her voice as she says it that Eddie can’t help but smile into his mug. 

“Dingus?” he asks, hoping for some lightness, hoping to keep it. 

But the light fades, and her eyes get distant again. Eddie wants to kick himself. 

“Just a stupid little nickname. An insult, really.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t know what to do with that. If he should ask more or if he should say that he has a feeling Steve might appreciate stupid little nicknames. Especially if they’re unique. Especially if they’re for him. But what right does he have to say that now? What knowledge does he have about Steve Harrington that Robin doesn’t? 

So he bites his tongue and drinks his coffee, cursing the silence that falls over them as Robin mirrors him, albeit slow and stilted, like she doesn’t know what to do either. Or where to put her limbs. 

“Wayne’s got him now. I took him here, after the boathouse, because I didn’t know what to do. He said he didn’t want the hospital, said there’s…” He trails off. 

Robin looks at him, her eyes wary but alert. “Said there’s what?” 

It’s stupid. Don’t say it. 

“Eddie?” 

With a sigh, he puts his mug on the counter and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “He said there’s monsters. In the hospital, I mean. He said that.”

Instead of scoffing or at least frowning, Robin clenches her jaw and nods imperceptibly, her eyes going distant again. Eddie blinks, the urge to just fucking ask overcoming him again, but with every passing second he realises that he doesn’t actually want to ask. He doesn’t want to know, let alone find out. 

He just… He just wants to go to bed. Forget any of this ever happened. But he can’t do that, so he continues. 

“Brought him here and Wayne took one look at him and convinced him he needed a doctor. And, Jesus H Christ, he was right. I’ve never… I mean, those things don’t happen,” he urges, balling his hands into fists even in the confined space of his pockets. “Right? I mean… Shit, man.” He bumps his shoe into the kitchen counter; gently, so as not to startle Buckley out of her fugue like state. 

“You’d be surprised,” she rasps, staring into the middle distance again and slowly sinking to the floor. There is a tremor in her shoulders now, barely noticeable, but Eddie knows where to look. Without really thinking about it, he grabs two of his hoodies he’d haphazardly thrown over the kitchen chairs this morning while deciding on his outfit and realising that it was altogether too warm for long sleeves today. But now, right here in this kitchen, the air tinged with blue, they’re both freezing. 

Because fear and worry will take all the warmth right from inside of you and leave you freezing even on the hottest day of the year. 

She barely looks at him when he holds out his all-black Iron Maiden hoodie to her, freshly washed and all that, but she takes it nonetheless, immediately pulling it on. It’s way too large on her, her hands not showing through the sleeves, her balled fists safe and warm inside the fabric. It would make him smile if only it didn’t highlight her stillness, her faraway stare, and the years he has on her. She’s, what, two years younger than him? Three? 

It seems surreal. Everything, everything does. 

Robin Buckley in his home, sitting on his kitchen floor, swallowed by a hoodie that is a size too large even for him, but it was the last one they had in the store and he doesn’t mind oversized clothes, can just cut them shorter when the need arises or layer them or declare them comfort sweaters for when he wants to just have his hands not slip through the sleeves on some days. And now Robin is wearing his comfort hoodie because her best friend was bleeding in his car earlier and then on his couch and now in his uncle’s car, and they never even talk, but he knows that Robin’s favourite colour is blue, but not morning hour blue because that makes her sad; only deep, dark blues. 

Her favourite colour. Her favourite person. 

It’s so fucking surreal. 

He drops down beside her, leaving enough space between them so neither of them feels caged, and mirrors her position: knees to his chest, chin on his forearms. Staring ahead. 

And silence reigns. 

“Your uncle,” she says at last, finally breaking the silence that’s been grating on Eddie’s nerves and looking at him, really looking as she rests her cheek on her forearms crossed over her knees. “Tell me about him.” 

There is a gentleness to her voice now despite how hoarse it is. Maybe she’s just tired, too. And scared. At least the shivering has stopped. 

Still Eddie frowns, confused as to why she should be breaking the silence to ask about Wayne when everything today has been about Harrington. About Steve. About deep and dark blues. 

“Uncle Wayne?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because,” she begins, and sighs deeply, works to get the air back in her lungs. Eddie wants to reach out, but instead he just clenches his fingers a little deeper into the fabric of his hoodie. “My best friend is hurt very badly and the only person with him is your uncle, and I need to know that he’s in good hands. Or I swear to whatever god you may or may not believe in, and granted, it’s probably the latter, but still I swear I’ll give into my arsonist tendencies and burn down this city, starting with your trailer if you don’t tell me that your uncle is a good man who will do anything in his power to make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs. And deserves.” 

Her jaw is set and her bottom lip trembles, but it doesn’t take away from the absolute sincerity in her threat. 

“So, please,” she continues, her voice breaking just a little bit. “Tell me. Tell me about your uncle.” 

Tell me about your favourite person. 

Eddie swallows, and mirrors her position once more, so she can see his eyes and know he’s sincere. Because he’s learned something about eyes today, about how much in the world can change if only you have a pair of eyes to look into. 

And he nods, looking for somewhere to start. “He’s the best man I know. He’s the best man you’ll ever meet.”

She clings to his eyes. Searches them for the truth, beseeching them not to lie. He lets her. 

“Took me in when I was ten, because my dad’s a fuck-up and my mom’s a goner. Took me in again when I was twelve after I ran away. Makes me breakfast and I pretends the dinner I make him is more than edible.” He smiles a little, because how could he not? “He’s my uncle, but still he’s the best parent anyone could wish for. Writes those little notes that he sticks to the fridge, y’know, the one with the smiley face? Tells me to eat, because I forget sometimes. I tell him to drink water, because he forgets. First few years, he’d read to me. And the man’s a shit reader, has some kind of disability I think, and at some point I learned that he wasn’t reading at all. He was telling me stories all the time, conning me into thinking that the books were magic, and that every time I’d try to read the book for myself, the story would change.” 

There’s a lump in his throat now, and his eyes sting again. But Robin doesn’t seem to fare any better than him if her wavering smile is any indication. 

“There’s no one,” Eddie continues, “who will make you believe in magic quite like uncle Wayne. Or in good things. And d’you wanna know what he told Blue when he said he was scared of going to the hospital?” 

Sniffling, Robin shakes her head. 

“He said, Okay. Then we do it scared. And all of that after he just… with that patience he has, told him everything that was gonna happen. And that he’d be there with him through it all. That he knew the doc and wouldn’t let anyone else near him, and that there’s no need to be scared at all.” 

He sighs, breathes, stills. Swallows, before looking back at Robin. 

“So, if there’s one person who’ll make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs and deserves…” 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Robin finishes his sentence, her voice still hoarse, but Eddie likes to think it’s for a different reason now. 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, nodding along as he does. 

There is something like understanding in Robin’s eyes now, and Eddie hopes it’s enough. Enough to calm the spiking of her nerves, enough to settle the coil of freezing nausea that must reside in the pit of her stomach, enough to let the next breath she takes feel a little more like it’s supposed to be there. 

He wants to say something more, wants to reach out and reassure her that everything will be okay, but he can’t know that. He doesn’t feel like it’s entirely true, let alone appropriate right now. 

There’s something in Robin’s eyes, in the way she holds herself, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she accepts his words at face value but doesn’t really believe them. Like she’ll only rest when she’s got her best friend back in her arms and hears the story — the whole story — from him. 

And Eddie doesn’t fault her, because the thing is, he doesn’t know what happened. Steve said that Hagan came at him, but that’s really all he got out of him before he started talking about death and shit, and Eddie really didn’t want to ask any more questions then. 

So they sit there for a while, the silence oppressive and unwelcome, clumsy and awkward; Robin’s mouth opening and closing a lot, like she wants to ask questions but doesn’t dare to ask them — and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s glad about it or not. Doesn’t know if he wants to hear the kind of questions asked with that kind of stare. 

It is only after a long while, when Robin’s shoulders start shaking again and she buries deeper into the hoodie and her own spiralling thoughts, that Eddie breaks the silence again, replaying in his head the last moment between him and Steve. 

“He’s not gonna break,” he tells her, aiming for gentle and reassuring. 

What he doesn’t expect is the minute flinch, the jolt shooting through her body and the pained expression it leaves her with. What he doesn’t expect is what she says next. 

“You know,” she begins, her voice as far away as her eyes, and it’s like she doesn’t even know she’s speaking. “Sometimes I wish he would.” 

What?

Eddie blinks, swallowing hard.

“Just for, just for a break. Just so he can rest. Let the rest take over for a while.” 

That… He doesn’t— What the hell does that even mean? 

“Like maybe then the world would… snap back.” She snaps her fingers, just once. This time it’s Eddie who flinches. “And everything bad would disappear. But it won’t. And he won’t.” She swallows. Then quietly, almost inaudible, “He won’t break.” 

And the way she says it… It was reassuring before. And now it feels like a burden. A curse. 

Who the fuck are you, Steve Harrington? And you, Robin Buckley. 

Eddie shudders, knowing he doesn’t want the answer to that anymore. He doesn’t want the questions either. So he buries his face in his hands, closes his eyes, and breathes. The adrenaline has worn off by now, the repeated panicking that added fuse to the fire has ceased now, leaving him worn out and strung out, tired and exhausted. He pulls up the hood, burrowing into the warmth. 

And then he stills. His usually twitching, fumbling, fiddling body falling entirely still beside Buckley. 

It’s like time stops for a while there, even though Eddie knows that it’s dragging ever on and on. He’s inclined to let it, though. He’s too tired, too exhausted to really care about what time may or may not be doing. 

“Why’d you call me?” 

It takes a while for Eddie to realise that Robin’s spoken again, asked him a question out loud, the cadence of it different to the endless circles of questions Eddie’s got stuck in his head since the early afternoon tinged in blue against crimson. 

He lifts his head, tucking his hands underneath his chin, and looks over at Buckley. Her hair is dishevelled now, her mascara smudged and crusty. Her lipstick is almost all gone, with the way he sees her biting and chewing on her lips. 

“I… It seemed like the right thing to do, y’know? He kept repeating your number. In the car, it was like… Sounds dramatic, but it was like his lifeline, almost. Repeated it so often it kinda got stuck.” He shrugs. “Seemed important, too.”

Robin frowns; a careful little thing. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Well, he just talked about you. Y’know. Tell me about your favourite person, I told him, because that’s the thing you gotta do to keep people, like, talking to you. Not shit about what day it is, or what. Just, y’know. Let them talk about things they like. Things they’ll wanna tell you about. ’N’ he talked about you.” 

She’s quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. And Eddie wonders if she knew. That she’s his favourite person. If he ever told her. If maybe he took that from him now. It’s a stupid thing to worry about, really; the boy was bloodied and bruised on his couch just an hour ago, there are worse things at hand for Eddie to worry about. But now he wonders if he just spilled some sort of secret. Some sort of love confession. 

“Did you, I mean… Are you guys, like, dating? Did I just steal his moment?” 

Robin huffs, but it’s more like a smile that needs a little more space in the room, a little more air to really bloom. It’s fond. She shakes her head, her eyes far away again, but closer somehow. 

“Nah,” she says, and the smile is in her voice, too. Eddie kind of likes her voice like that. “We’re platonic. Which is something I’d never thought I’d say. Not about Steve Harrington, y’know?” 

And the way she drags out his name… Eddie can relate. Like it means something, but like what it means is nowhere close to reality. Nowhere close to what it really means. Nowhere close to Blue. 

Robin sighs, the sound more gentle than it should be, and leans her head against the cabinet behind her. “We worked together over summer break. Scoops Ahoy.” Her voice does a funny thing, and her eyes glaze over as she pauses. Eddie waits, his lips tipped up into a little smile, too; to match hers. 

“What, the ice cream parlour?” 

Robin hums, her smile widening at what Eddie guesses must be memories of chaos and ridiculousness. “I wanted to hate him,” she continues. “But try as I might, he wouldn’t let me. Or, he did. He did let me. Just, it turns out, there’s no use hating Steve Harrington, not when he’s so… So endlessly genuine. There’s nothing to hate, y’know? And then he…” 

She stops, her mouth clicking shut as her eyes tear up a little. The Starcourt fire. Eddie remembers the news, remembers the self-satisfied smirk when he’d heard about it, remembers sticking it to the Man and to capitalism and to the idea of malls over supporting your friendly neighbourhood businesses. 

Guilt and shame overcome him as he realises that they must have been in there when it happened. 

“He saved your life?” 

Robin’s eyes snap toward him, wide and caught, and Eddie raises his hands in placation. 

“In the fire? Were you there?” 

“Y—yeah.” She swallows hard, avoiding his eyes. “The fire. He saved me. Yeah.” 

Eddie nods, deciding to drop that topic right there; to lay it on the ground as gently as he can and cover it with bright red colours so he never steps on it ever again. 

“He must be your favourite person, too, then, hm?” he steers the conversation back away into safer waters. 

“He is,” she says, sure and genuine and true. “It’s just. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favourite. He has a lot of people who care about him, you know? A lot of people he cares about. Even more numbers memorised in that stupidly smart head of his.” She huffs again, burrowing deeper into Eddie’s hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands some more. “It’s stupid, to be so hung up on this. Is it stupid?” 

“I don’t think it is,” Eddie says, scooting a little closer to Robin. “Like, I don’t even know that boy, right? But even I know that he’s got some ways to shift your focus or something. Give you a silver lining, or something to take the pain away even when he’s the one who… I don’t know, that’s probably stupid, too.” 

“Nah,” Robin says, scooting closer to him, too, until their sides are pressed together and she can lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s not stupid. You’re right; that’s Steve for you. ’S just who he is.” 

It is, isn’t it? 

You’re so blue, Stevie. 

She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.

Blue. ‘S nice. 

Yeah. Yeah, he is. 

Eddie lets his thoughts roam the endless possibilities and realities that is Steve Harrington, the depths he hides — or won’t hide, maybe, if you know how to ask. Where to look. 

Maybe he’ll find out, one of these days. Not about the terrible things that leave him scared of the hospital, not about the horrible things that have him speaking of death and dying like he’s accepted them as a possibility a long time ago. 

He swallows hard and shakes off these thoughts, because things like that just. They don’t happen. They don’t happen to blue-smiled boys who trust you to be kind even when they’re beaten straight to hell. And they sure as hell don’t happen when uncle Wayne’s around. 

Nothing bad has ever happened when uncle Wayne was around. 

And he wants to tell Robin, wants to make that promise. But part of him can’t bear the thought of being wrong. So he keeps his mouth shut and just sits with her, their heads as heavy as their hearts as they wait. 

The sun is long gone when the phone above him rings again, spooking and startling them out of their timeless existence. 

“Yeah?” he answers, his heart hammering in his chest. “Wayne?” 

“Hey, Ed,” Wayne’s voice comes through the phone like a melody. Calm and steady. Robin is scooting closer, and Eddie shifts the phone to accommodate her so they can both listen. Somehow, they ended up holding hands — and holding on hard. “We’re coming home now.” 

🤍🌷 tagging:

@theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 @annabanannabeth @deany-baby @mc-i-r @mugloversonly @viridianphtalo @nightmareglitter @jamieweasley13 @copingmechanizm @marklee-blackmore @sirsnacksalot @justrandomfandomstm @hairdryerducks @silenzioperso @newtstabber @fantrash @zaddipax @cometsandstardust @rowanshadow26 @limpingpenguin @finntheehumaneater @extra-transitional (sorry if i missed anyone! lmk if you don't wanna be tagged for part 4 🫶)

[maeo-png]

Of course it's fucking THESEUS

okay. i havent shut up about the greek myth aspects of Simon's story and i wont stop now. At first it was a statue of Persephone in the garden, with it's head replaced to be Betty, giving the implication that Betty is the Persephone to Simon's Hades, and it was Simon's status as an antiquarian. and now we've gotten Simon being a huge nerd and bringing up Theseus completely unprompted (so real)

a bit of context in case you need it, Theseus was one of those greek "legendary Heroes" (Achilles, Heracles, etc.), and previously King of Athens, but had managed to dodge most bad things that happen to Greek heroes. he was just stupid and i guess they took pity on him.

The Ship of Theseus or "Theseus' Paradox", which I'd imagine all of tumblr knows by now, but if you don't, is the question on whether if a ship, specifically Theseus', is still the same ship after having all of its parts replaced exactly. To me this makes for such an obvious connection to Simon. Simon's story factors around identity, first and foremost. (yknow. "I Remember You" and all that?) The concept of not knowing what you are fundamentally was originally Ice King's thing, as his previous life as Simon was essentially history. But now that's being brought to Simon. and Simon has the lucidity to process what that means for him.

[mokadevs]

happy new year!

[st4rstudent]

people seemed to like the last design so here's another drawing. this time featuring a surprise guest. haha wow whos that guy...

no dialogue ver

[very-poorly-drawn-tgcf]

Go work off that debt Xie Lian! ....with an extra babysitting job.

Meme template for y'all under the cut + examples I made.

Anyway hopefully next episodes won't take too long. The thing is. The Ghost Groom arc is a lot longer than I remember. I'm still racking my brain over how the hell I'm gonna summarize it because I am not going every single instance

[firehose118]

just wanted to share a snippet from an eddiejosh thing i'm working on:

The next morning, Josh walks bleary-eyed into the main space of his apartment. To his surprise, he sees that Eddie has already cleaned up the living room and folded up the couch. The sheets are in a neat pile on the coffee table. 

Josh isn’t sure what he expected to see, but it isn’t this. Eddie was an absolute mess last night, and now he’s sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone like nothing happened. Like he routinely finds himself waking up at Josh’s house. 

“Morning,” Josh says, rubbing his eyes as he walks to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Eddie says. He pops up and joins Josh in the kitchen. “I was gonna start the coffee but, uh, I don’t- I don’t trust those things.” He waves vaguely at Josh’s coffee maker.

Josh side-eyes him. What the fuck does that mean? He’s too tired to try to decode Eddie Diaz. It’s too early. 

“It literally could not be easier to use a Hildy coffee maker,” Josh says. He hears his voice dripping in condescension. “You put the coffee and the water in and then you tell her to make it. You don’t even have to measure anything, she does that for you.” 

“I didn’t say I couldn’t figure it out,” Eddie snipes. “I said I don’t trust them.”

“Okay,” Josh sighs. He doesn’t really care. He just wants caffeine. “How do you like your coffee?” 

“Black.”

“Not what I meant,” Josh sighs again as he puts water and coffee into the designated spots. “God, do you live under a rock? Hildy makes it stronger or weaker depending on what you like.” 

“Oh. Uh, just- just do whatever you like.” Eddie eyes the coffee maker suspiciously, like a machine knowing his coffee preference would be tantamount to identity theft. 

Josh leans close to the coffee maker. “Hildy, Eddie Diaz likes his coffee strong and hot.” 

“No, don’t-” Eddie protests, but it’s too late. 

The machine’s digital voice is already saying, “Brewing one pot of strong coffee, extra hot, for Eddie Diaz.” 

Josh smirks at the terror on Eddie’s face. 

“Strong and hot,” Josh says. “That’s how I like my coffee.” 

Something passes over Eddie’s face but it’s gone before Josh can get a good look at it. “I’d expect nothing less,” he says. 

[eosofhearts]

my poor little meow meow angor rot he has every disease

[ailithnight]

A few notes:

I originally planned to have this one have a couple of povs like the first, but then u got carried away writing feral Danny so, just Tim today.

I hope to get the next one out sometime this weekend cause it's harder to write when I have work.

Also, everyone thank @cursedzucchini for writing the comment that gave me the executive function to take these words out of my brain and put them in my phone. Reading that there was someone out there checking the tag for updates every day really motivated me.

Now, without further ado

Chapter 1

A King in Arkham

Chapter 2

Tim sighs, rubbing his temples and attempting to will away the sleep deprivation headache currently pounding on the inside of his skull. Pushing 80 hours awake, the last 38 of which have been spent combing backwards through any and all Arkham documents pertaining to one Daniel James Fenton.

He moved his hands away from his head, placing them on the fresh cup of coffee that had materialized while he was massaging, giving a cursory "Thanks" the retreating body. Normally, Alfred would have cut Tim off from caffeine yesterday. But it seems even the old butler was keen on something being found to justify pulling the kid out of Arkham.

Or maybe that was Jason fueling Tim's addiction. Man had been hovering since Batman called him back at the last break out. At least Dick had been able to reason better with the most volatile of the Wayne siblings.

"Picking him up and running won't do either of you any favors, Little Wing. It'll just put him and Hood on wanted posters. If you want him to have any shot at a life out here, you gotta let Bruce take it through the proper channels."

That had at least prevented Jason from snapping on anyone immediately, though he had seen fit to warn everyone that of they didn't have something by the next break out, he'd be doing it his way.

Which is why Tim had spent the last day and a half poring over every medical record, therapy session, schedule, action report, and discipline slip Arkham had on file that even mentioned Patient 26B.

Meanwhile, Oracle had her hands full trying to find any background information on the young ward. A task which itself was proving challenging because the place the kid came from seemed to have no digital presence at all. None. Not a Facebook or Twitter or MySpace pinging from the area. Not an email address or YouTube account. Not a single god damned website. Not even a .gov! Hell, the only reason they knew the city's name is because it was listed in the CPS paperwork from Chicago.

In other places, small towns and communities in the middle of nowhere, this wouldn't really raise any red flags. But Amity Park was not actually a nowhere town. It certainly wasn't a Gotham or Metropolis. But it was big enough to have formed a conurbation with the nearby city of Elmerton. Which had a perfectly normal digital presence. So Amity Park's lack of digital presence screamed Communications Blackout. A frighteningly strong one to still be giving Oracle the run around almost 2 days later.

Once Tim was finished reviewing Arkham reports, then the 3 weeks of documents from Daniel's stay in Chicago, he'd probably offer to help her. Though she might tell him to go the fuck to sleep instead.

For now. Tim was nearing the beginning of the kid's Arkham stay and; on top of not yet finding any clues as to why the kid was in Arkham, nor anything that could possibly exonerate him; the kid just made no damn sense!

His therapy sessions were all the same dead end.

The therapist would ask he he was feeling. The kid would apparently shrug, or sometimes mumble something the therapists could never quite catch.

They'd ask the standard suicide questions. "Any thoughts of wishing you could go to sleep and not wake up?"

A shrug.

"Any thoughts of wanting to take your own life or wishing someone would take it for you?"

Vehenement refusal bordering on a panic attack.

Move on to the hurting people questions.

"Any thoughts of wanting to harm other people?"

"No." According to the doctors, his tone here is immediate, calm, confident. Truthful. If the Arkham psyches are to be believed.

"Any thoughts of wanting to harm yourself?"

"No." Slower, quieter, meeker. Noted as a clear lie, citing the injuries as evidence.

"Then why do you, Danny?"

"I don't."

"Then where did your injuries come from."

"The ghosts," said with a sigh

At this point, it seems Daniel shuts down. He says nothing else for the rest of the session. Shows no outward response as the therapist tries to convince him there are no ghosts and Daniel must be giving himself those injuries.

2 and a half months. Daily therapy sessions. And every single one is the exact same script. The only differences are some minor notes as Daniel is passed around between therapists as they all inevitably get frustrated talking to the emotionless block of ice.

Outside of the therapy sessions and medical reports documenting the frankly horrifying amount of injuries Danny accumulates, there's not much in his file. He follows all instructions to the letter; never causes trouble for guards or other inmates; and every single locks malfunction, he has afterward been found lying on his bed in his cell staring at the ceiling. If he was somewhere else when the malfunction happened, security footage catches him walking there himself. If he was already in his cell, footage keeps him there the whole time.

Tim sighs again, clicking out of the medical report detailing the nasty bruise that had appeared on the kid's lower left back, then opens up the next file up without reading the name fully expecting it to be another tedious therapy session report.

Instead, he finds a discipline slip with the relevant security clip embedded at the top. The first frame is of the cafeteria. Daniel is sitting alone at a table in the top right. Tim's breath catches in his throat as he recognizes the demented clown in the center of the frame. Hastily, he plays the clip.

There is no sound but Joker appears to say something to the room. Daniel is suddenly standing, whipped around to face the clown. The Joker turns towards him. Daniel tenses. The Joker tenses.

In the next second, Daniel is on the Joker. He's kicking, scratching, biting. Absolutely feral as he just reigns fury upon the most feared and hated rogue in all of Gotham. Surrounding inmates are fleeing to the sides of the room as the Joker seemingly tries to get away from the kid, only succeeding in moving the "fight" around the room. It's hardly a fight. More like a vicious, brutal assault. Inmates cheer as blood appears on the floor. Guards move in, pulling the feral 15 year old off of the Joker; who stays down, potentially unconscious. 2 guards go to help the one currently attempting to restrain Daniel. 6 more converge on the Joker, blocking him from view. As soon as he can no longer see the Joker, Daniel seems to go limp in the guards hands. Then he tenses again, though not struggling. Tim just catches the beginning stages of what seems to be a panic attack before the clip ends.

Tim stares dumbfounded at the screen for several moments. When he snaps out of it enough to actually read the incident report, it is a basic transcription of what Tim just witnessed with confirmation that Daniel had a panic attack immediately after. The report also notes that other than the panic attack, Daniel seemed to sustain no harm. He was disciplined with 3 days without cafeteria privileges, so his meals were brought to his cell, and 3 days without Crafts room privileges.

A note at the bottom of the report reads "To prevent further incidents, Patient 26B and the Joker are no longer permitted to be in the same room or yard."

This makes Tim click out of the discipline slip -without closing it, just moving it to a different section of the batcomputer's massive screen- and scan the rest of the files. There are 2 more. One from a week prior and one from Daniel's first dat at Arkham. He opens both, placing them at points on the screen so that all 3 are visible.

The one from the week prior shows the Crafts Room. Danny is again in an upper corner. Time plays it. The door opens. Joker walks in. Seems to look at Daniel, then rushes him. Daniel looks up before the Joker makes it half way across the room, then in the next second meets him there. Another feral fight only broken up by the guards when the Joker stops moving. Again, Danny goes limp as soon as the Joker is out of sight. The rest of the report confirming a panic attack but no injuries. 2 days lost privileges.

The report from Daniel's first day again shows the cafeteria. This time, Daniel is center frame. Joker comes up behind him. Daniel tenses but doesn't turn yet. Joker seems to be saying g something, then laughs. Daniel hunches in on himself, seeming to mumble a response. Whatever he said makes the Joker laugh harder. Then he leans down over Daniel's shoulder, talking. Daniel seems frozen for not even half a second before he suddenly pushes himself out of his seat, straight in to the Joker, twisting as he goes to begin the attack. Since it's obviously the first time, the rest of the cafeteria freezes. No one reacts for a solid 6 seconds. Then guards are moving in, hauling the teenager away. The Joker stands unsteadily then takes a knee. He has to be led limping out of the room. Guards struggle to restrain Daniel until the Joker is gone, whereafter Daniel goes boneless, then begins panicking. Report confirms panic attack and no injuries. 1 day lost privileges.

Tim stares at the batcomputer for several minutes, trying very hard to process what he has just learned. His brain feels like soup. He rubs his eyes, looks at his coffee, grabs a comm to put in his ear. His voice is strained as he speaks.

Anyone nearby who can come to the cave for a minute?

Jason responds instantly.

Upstairs. Find something?

I don't... know. I just. Someone come confirm I didn't just hallucinate what I just watched and read.

Red Robin? What did you find?

Not saying until someone else can confirm it.

Red Robin

On my way down.

.

"What the actual fuck?"

[superlarva]

Some much needed hugs in this chapter!

Chapter 3 of my baby domino twins and dad Rex fic without a name if any of y'all have suggestions I'd love to hear them, I can't decide on a good title :(

Links to previous chapters: 00 01 02

Next chapter: 04

Summary: Rex and Fives bond as they get ready for bed.

CW: Implied/referenced child abuse

Chapter 3 - Home

Rex’s keys clattered across the hallway floor loudly. He cringed and held his breath, stopping in his tracks. Fives’s head burrowed deeper into his shoulder, his boney legs constricting around Rex’s hips.

“It’s okay, I got you,” Rex hushed quietly, hoping the boy wouldn’t fully wake up.

Fives shifted again in Rex’s arms, pressing his small body up even further against Rex’s chest. The boy hummed quietly, slowly pulling himself from the depths of sleep, “…Echo?”

“Rex!”

Rex whirled around, clutching Fives tight as the boy jerked awake in his arms. He was met with a familiar face staring at him half hidden behind a mop of jet-black hair and the door to apartment 6116.

“Hardcase!” Rex heard Jesse’s voice bark from deep within the apartment behind the teen in front of him.

“What?” Hardcase answered, still eyeing Rex and the boy in his arms.

“Leave him alone. Aren’t you supposed to be grounded?”

Hardcase rolled his eyes, turning his head back towards the apartment, “Aren’t you supposed to be putting Tup to bed? Anyways, Kix isn’t even here right now.”

“Right, so that means I’m in charge. Get back in here.”

Hardcase stepped out into the hallway and let the door slide shut behind him, grinning at Rex, “Oops.”

Rex readjusted his grip on Fives as the boy squirmed in his arms, trying to turn to see the new presence in the hallway.

Hardcase moved into the kid’s line of vision and gave a small wave, “Hey, little guy.”

Fives snuggled his head back down into Rex’s shoulder, clearly not wanting to interact.

“Hardcase,” Rex warned, moving to pick up his keys. “You should listen to Jesse.”

Ignoring the comment, the teen bent down and grabbed the keys swiftly before Rex could reach them, “Here, let me get that for you.”

Rex sighed and let Hardcase open his apartment for him, holding out his hand for the keys as the door swung open, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Hardcase said, dropping them in Rex’s palm.

“Get back in there before you give your brother an aneurism,” Rex ordered over his shoulder before kicking the door closed behind him.

Rex set Fives and the bag of clothes down on the kitchen counter, “Sorry for waking you up. My friends can be a little, uh… overly enthusiastic. Sometimes.”

Fives rubbed at his eyes looking around the small kitchen and adjoining living room.

“Yeah, so, this is my apartment,” Rex wrung his hands, studying the boy’s curious glances for hints of satisfaction or distaste. “I know it’s not that big, but it’s got two bedrooms, so, you know, I figured it should be alright if you and Echo are okay sharing a room.”

Fives’s eyes snapped to Rex’s, a look of pure wonder etched across his face, “A whole room just for me and Echo?”

“Uh, yeah… is- is that-” Rex stumbled over his words, anxiety building in his chest. He took a deep breath, “Is that not okay?”

“We never had a whole room to ourselves before.”

“Oh, well, yeah, you guys will have your own room. It’s not set up or anything yet, so we’ll need to do that.”

“Tonight?”

“No,” Rex said the edges of his lips twitching up at the hopeful note into the boy’s tone. “Tonight we’re just gonna get you all cleaned up and ready for bed. First up, we got to take off these shoes.”

As Rex removed Fives’s socks and shoes the boy fidgeted uncomfortably.

“Something up?” Rex asked, peeling off a sock.

“Was…” Fives’s faced screwed up in confusion. “Was he a grown up or a kid?”

“Who? Hardcase?”

Fives nodded.

Rex chuckled, “Yeah, I can see how that’d be confusing. He’s a teenager, so he’s kinda in between being a big kid and an adult.”

“Will I be a teenager too?”

“Mhm,” Rex affirmed, taking off the last sock, “When you turn thirteen.”

“When will I turn thirteen?” Fives asked, letting Rex help him hop down off the counter.

Rex dug around in the shopping bag and pulled out one of the pairs of dino pajamas and a pair of underwear, “Do you know how old you are now?”

Fives shook his head, following Rex as he made his way towards the bathroom.

“Well, when’s your birthday?”

“What’s a birthday?”

Rex stopped outside the bathroom, looking back at the boy’s questioning face. The kid had no idea how heartbreaking his innocent question was. Rex sighed and stepped into the bathroom, depositing Fives’s new clothes on the counter, “It’s the day you were born when you were a baby. Everyone has a new one on the same day every year. So, for example, on my birthday this year I turned twenty-four.”

Fives looked down at his own body then looked up at Rex, “I don’t think I’m twenty-four yet.”

Rex turned away from Fives, both to obtain a clean towel from the cabinet and also to hide his face from the boy. Every word Fives said solidified just how deprived and neglected the twins had been in her care. It made him livid, not just at her, but at himself: for not being there, for not even trying to find out that he had kids he should have been there for. He did not want Fives to see him fuming and think he was angry at him, so he took a deep breath.

Once he made sure his expression was neutral, Rex turned back to Fives, “No, not yet. I think you’re around seven right now.”

“So, then I’ll be a teenager in six years?”

Rex smiled, surprised that with Fives’s lack of basic knowledge he knew how to do subtraction, “Yeah, I think so.”

Rex had showed Fives where everything was in the bathroom and explained how to work the shower bath, but he still resorted to fidgeting nervously in the hall outside the closed door after he got changed into his pajamas.

After only a few minutes of waiting the water in the shower turned off. Rex rubbed the back of his neck, listening intently for any cries of distress. That had been an awfully short shower for the amount of filth on the kid.

After waiting and not hearing anything from inside the bathroom, Rex’s anxiety won out and he knocked softly on the door, “You okay in there, bud?”

“Y-yeah,” came a slightly panicked response. “I’m almost done. S-sorry.”

Rex frowned, “It’s okay, take as long as you need.”

Rex stood outside the door for a minute trying to think of something better to say to ease the boy’s anxieties before he gave up and went into his bedroom to sit on the edge of his bed. As soon as he did, he heard the bathroom door open, and a little face appeared behind it.

“All done?” Rex asked, surprised that Fives actually did look clean.

The boy nodded, pushing a sopping wet curl away from his forehead.

Rex laughed and made his way over to Fives, who opened the door a little more for him.

“Here,” Rex said, grabbing the towel that Fives had left on the edge of the tub and using it to dry his hair, “If you rub it on your head like this it’ll dry your hair.”

Fives squirmed a little, but calmed down after Rex explained what he was doing. When Rex was done drying Fives’s hair, he hung up the towel on the back of the door and began rummaging around in his bathroom cabinet for a new toothbrush for Fives. After finding one, he held it out, “Toothbrush.”

Fives took the toothbrush, and went over to the sink, “Can I use your toothpaste?”

“Yeah, of course.”

As Fives brushed his teeth, Rex picked up the boy’s dirty clothes from the floor and threw them into the wash, changing his settings to “soil level heavy” before letting it run.

By the time he had finished, Fives reappeared from the bathroom. He smiled shyly as Rex approached, “I put my toothbrush next to yours.”

“Perfect,” Rex said, smiling.

Fives smiled back.

“Ready for bed?” Rex asked, hitching his thumb to his bedroom.

Fives regarded him nervously, “Is-isn’t that yours? Your room?”

“Yes, but I’ll be sleeping on the couch,” Rex said quickly, pointing to the couch behind Fives in the living room.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Fives said, looking up at Rex with big innocent eyes.

“I’m sure you can, but I would feel a lot more comfortable if you slept in a real bed tonight.”

“But…” Fives’s eyebrows pushed together in confusion, “But it’s yours?”

“Your right,” Rex nodded. “And that means I get to make the decision of who sleeps in it.”

Fives stared at him, bewildered.

“And I’ve decided that person is you.”

Again, the boy made no response.

Rex sighed, “Am I going to have to chase you in there?”

Fives sobered and shook his head vigorously, slowly backing away from Rex and sidestepping into the bedroom. Rex held back a smirk and followed the boy into the room.

Fives was standing in the middle of the floor, looking between Rex and his queen-sized mattress. He had a funny look on his face, almost as if he were asking permission to approach the bed.

“Go on,” Rex snipped, jerking his head toward the bed, he was exhausted and just wanted to get Fives to sleep as soon as possible so he could crash himself. He regretted his clipped tone as soon as the words came out of his mouth. He didn’t want to scare the kid.

Fives climbed up onto the bed and sat on top of the sheets, balling them up into tight fists as he stared at Rex, Rex thought for further directions.

No.

Not for further directions.

There was a slight quiver in the boy’s lip just visible in the dark room.

Fives was trying not to cry.

Rex, scared he had frightened the boy, covered the distance between them slowly and sat on the edge of the bed, a bit away from Fives, “What’s wrong?”

At that Fives burst into tears, his whole body shaking. Rex tried not to get upset himself and took a deep breath. He didn’t know if Fives was crying because of him or just because of everything he had gone through today or because of Echo, or what, but he wasn’t going to be able to figure it out unless he handled this with tact. Rex thought back to all the times others had tried to comfort him before settling on his first question.

“Do you want me to stay here or go?” Rex had hated it when the people who had hurt him tried to comfort him and he didn’t want to do the same with Fives, but he also didn’t want to say anything that would make Fives assume that Rex thought Fives was upset at him.

Fives tried to say something but was racked with a fresh wave of sobs and nothing but unintelligible noises came out of his mouth. Finding a solution to his problem, Fives shakily uncurled one of his fists and reached out to Rex.

“Stay?” Rex asked, scooting closer to the boy.

Fives nodded and grabbed Rex’s arm, pulling it to his chest and hugging it with all his strength.

“Okay,” Rex said softly, pulling Fives into a hug with his free arm and rubbing the boy’s back. Rex didn’t really know what to do but whisper the phrase “you’re okay, I’ve got you” over and over as he rubbed circles.

Luckily, it seemed to work and eventually Fives’s sobs slowed down and his grip on Rex’s arm loosened a little. Rex squeezed the boy tight before pulling back a bit so he could see his face, “Okay now?”

Fives wiped a tear from his eye and took a shuddering breath before shrugging a little and closing his eyes as more tears spilled from them.

Rex pulled him in close again, cradling Fives’s head to his chest, “Oh, bud… What’s the matter?"

“Y-y-you’re- y-you’re-” Fives was starting to hyperventilate, clinging to Rex for dear life.

Rex’s heartrate picked up. He’d done something wrong hadn’t he. And now his son was practically inconsolable. He carded a hand through Fives’s damp hair, hoping to calm him down enough that he would be able to speak.

“You’re t-t-too nice t-to m-m-m-m-me!” Fives let out with a wail.

Rex froze. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t that. He went back to rubbing Fives’s back as he tried to organize his thoughts. Suddenly he realized. He turned to the shaking boy in his arms, “Fives?”

The boy sniffled and shifted his head to peak at him, “M-mh-hm?”

“Do you know why they called me to come get you and Echo?”

Fives shrugged, “B-because you’re a- a policem-man?”

“Because I’m your dad.”

Fives looked up at him in confusion, tears come to a halt.

“Do you- do you know what that means?” Rex asked softly.

“It means…” Fives trailed off. “…you have to take care of me?”

“It means I get to take care of you and I get to make you feel safe and I get to make you happy.”

Fives scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve, sniffling, before regarding Rex curiously and saying in a small voice, “I didn’t know you were my dad.”

Rex smiled, he could barely believe it himself, “I am.”

Fives cocked his head to one side, “Eh-Echo said you were probably a bad man.”

“Do I seem like a bad man?”

“No… but Echo s-s-said you-” Fives took a second to snort some of his snot back up into his nose, “-said you come get us if you w-were a good guy.”

Rex cringed; he knew Echo was right. When he looked down, he was comforted by Fives unjudging face. The boy wasn’t mad at him, just confused, just trying to figure out how everything fit together. Rex shifted the boy off of his lap and onto the bed so they could face each other more comfortably, “You know how you said you didn’t know I was your dad?”

Fives nodded.

“Well, I didn’t know you were my son. Not until today.”

“Oh,” Fives said, blinking slowly. “And I r-really am?”

“You really are,” Rex echoed softly.

@marierg @stressed-cherry @ffdemon @renton6echo @bambambunny @xylionet @tazmbc1

[spock-adoodledoo]

even if basen is always gonna be a side character i love him... his gimmick of herculean strength is literally always a gag and yet he struggles so much because of it. his buttons are fun to press and he doesn't have just two unlike lahans older brother (ok he has about 3). he still has a baby face and is 19 and still hasn't gotten laid in a setting where most people have at least had sex if not children a couple years earlier. guy got unwanted advances from jinshi bc he misunderstood it as some kind of normal duel instead of romance power struggles. can lecture maomao on a detailed history of li's founding (probably rote memory he was ordered to learn), but otherwise a bit too naive and oblivious and unsubtle. loyal to a fault. he described aduo as a proud hunting dog (what's jinshi then??). has a complex abt women that hes slowly working on. single dad to a duck that got his love life together and is constantly in danger of being cooked. how is it to have your dad be one of your superiors and your milk brother be another and you could beat both of them in brute strength but not in cleverness?? also how is it falling in love at first sight and sacrificing everything for someone you've barely talked to? how is it being raised by your sister bc your mom is busy with the emperor's younger brother and then serving the guy you were milk brothers w and grew up with

edit: anyways Basen likers hmu im always looking for side character enjoyers

[markantonys]

thinking more about the garden scene, rereading it has just made me want even more for the show to do a "rand and egwene trespassing in the caemlyn palace and meeting gawyn, galad, morgase, and elaida" version of it in early s3! because gawyn is adorable in the book version, but mostly exists as an extension of elayne and a helpful infodumper to explain to rand and the reader what's going on while the other 4 caemlyn characters are carrying the scene.

so in a version of the scene where elayne is not there (as i'd imagine she'd go straight from falme to tanchico, which is pretty nearby, while the rest of the gang could pass through caemlyn in their longer travels), that automatically brings gawyn more into the spotlight and makes him an independent and more noticeable character during that whole sequence. now gawyn alone is defending rand (and egwene) from galad, morgase, and elaida, which would be a strong and memorable first introduction to him as a character. (it would also be a great meetcute for gawene <3 and i'd love to keep the book vibe of gawyn being so kind and friendly to rand and having a huge crush on him when they first meet bc it makes the forthcoming events all the more angsty.)

and in general, the book version of course has elayne as the focal point of the caemlyn sequence, so in the show where the audience already knows and loves elayne from other scenes, an elayne-less caemlyn sequence would be a great opportunity to let the other 4 caemlyn characters shine more. seeing gawyn, galad, morgase, and elaida argue over what to do with these trespassers, without elayne present, would do a lot to shed light on all 4 of them as characters and on the various relationship dynamics between them, which would be really good because the gawyn-elaida dynamic will be key to understanding his role in the coup later in the season (maybe we see him being willing to stand up to galad for the trespassers, but then being kinda cowed and backing down once elaida gets involved), and both gawyn's and galad's relationships with morgase are very central to their individual storylines and motivate a lot of their behavior down the road (more so than elayne, who ofc loves morgase and mourns her death, but doesn't really have those feelings as a main motivator for her behavior).

also, i've gone back to reread the wotseries articles about the shohreh aghdashloo (elaida) and olivia williams (morgase) casting leaks, and uncovered a couple interesting tidbits about the caemlyn filming!

both actresses were spotted on a set that is almost certainly the caemlyn palace (filmed inside a real-life castle with andor's banner hanging up)

wotseries believes that since this set is a location shoot 200 km away from jordan studios, not too much time will be spent there in s3 as frequent shoots there would be inconvenient

this filming occurred in late may 2023 and was for sometime in the first 2 episodes of the season

this all supports my theory of a one-time caemlyn trespassing sequence in approx 3x02! however, wotseries didn't report anything about josha or madeleine being spotted on this set, or about galad's actor or any potential gawyn actors being spotted. but that definitely doesn't mean none of them were there, maybe some or all were but just weren't leaked. on the other hand, i could also imagine maybe there's just one brief caemlyn-set scene of morgase telling elaida to go to the white tower and ask about elayne, and then G&G are introduced later when tagging along on elaida's trip and none of them meet our main characters during this season (or even just gawyn tags along with elaida while galad is instead introduced as a whitecloak in perrin's storyline, though personally i think it's important to galad's story for him to NOT be a whitecloak at first and then become radicalized out of worry for elayne). or it could be that there are multiple scenes in the caemlyn palace but some were filmed on a studio set and this location shoot was only used for a particularly grand room like the throne room or something. many possibilities and such little concrete info to go off of yet!

anyway, overall, i think that first introducing the rest of the caemlyn crew to the audience via their interactions with main characters we already know could potentially be more interesting than introducing them in a vacuum as a totally separate storyline (and indeed, most of the new characters in s2 were introduced via preexisting characters meeting them, iirc). and i think that it would be really great for rand and egwene to get a chance to meet the caemlyn crew before they get tied up in other storylines for the foreseeable future, since elaida and gawyn, in particular, are quite important to both rand and egwene later on (or rather, rand is important to gawyn but not vice versa djkfjg poor gawyn). but only time will tell if i'm onto something here or if i'm way off base!

[dailykugisaki]

Day 202 | id in alt

Shoko, let a girl breathe without mentioning your friend that's a medical anomaly.

[likearolloftape]

Lewis' film Skincare is gonna be in theaters August 16th!

[rexscanonwife]

Getting a little sillay with art styles!

[intercomkris]

ok sir