#and I'm starting to think I should listen

[livinghalfway]

Right Reasons; Wrong Kid

Summary: Batfam thinks Damian is being kidnapped when they see Danny getting manhandled into a car by Vlad; Danny loves to make Vlad's life difficult and puts up a fight getting into the car.

Word Count: 1450

Being in Gotham was the last place Danny wanted to be today, especially when he had to be here with Vlad. The fruitloop had somehow convinced his parents that he should go to this stupid three day business conference with him.

While Danny can't make any decisions right now he can certainly make Vlad regret his. Which is why Danny doesn't feel an ounce of embarrassment at what he is currently doing.

"Daniel, get in the car." Vlad hissed at him with a tight smile as they both stood outside of the building the conference was being hosted in.

"No." He said; even going as far as to take a step backwards to further spite the man in front of him.

It was clear Vlad was losing his patience with him if the subtle flash of red in his eyes is anything to go off of. "Daniel, I won't ask again. Get in the car now, or I can drag you in. The choice is yours, but you will be getting in this car one way or another."

"You really gonna drag a kid into your car in front of all these people you're trying so hard to impress?" Danny looked from side to side at all the people congregating on the sidewalk and steps as they wait for their vehicles to arrive.

"I'm hardly the first person they've seen that has had to deal with a stubborn child refusing to listen." Vlad says as he takes a threatening step forward, "Now get in the car."

"No."

Seemingly annoyed but not surprised Vlad takes a deep breath before his hand, like a snake, strikes forward and grabs a hold of him before beginning to pull. Just as quickly though Danny is trying to pull away with just as much strength. Quickly taking a moment to look around he sees that others are already starting to look in their direction; perfect.

With him distracted though Vlad was able to get a sharp tug on him causing him to stubble towards the car. Before he can fall into the car though Danny is shooting his foot forward, firmly planting it down as his hands land on both sides of the open car door.

"Gonna have to try harder than that, fruitloop. I can't make it too easy for you." Danny teased as he fought against Vlad’s pushing.

Vlad doesn't say anything back to him besides giving a low growl. This situation is clearly not going the way he wanted to and Vlad’s frustration was starting to show, and Danny was determined to watch this man break in front of all these people he so desperately wanted to impress.

He locked his arms and knees when he felt Vlad start pushing harder against his back. Preparing himself to jump to the side the moment Vlad loosened his grip even slightly. What he wasn't prepared for though was for the weight pushing against him to suddenly disappear.

"What is going on here?" A deceivingly friendly voice sounds out behind him.

Before Danny can realize what has just happened though a much stronger hand is gripping his shoulder and yanking him away from the open car door. Finally able to see more than just the car's interior Danny see's that three other men are now standing by the car.

Two of them, a teen not much older than himself and a middle aged man, are standing in front of him as if forming a wall between him and Vlad. Who is being held in place by the third man.

Danny can see that Vlad was just as thrown off by these strangers as he is based on the startled look on his face. What confuses him though is when instead of becoming angry like he expects Vlad only looks surprised as he takes in the three guys with them.

"Bruce Wayne!" Vlad announces with a tight grin, "I was just trying to get my son to cooperate with me and get in the car. I'm sure you understand how teenage boys are."

"I'm not your son!" Danny instinctively yells out; no way in hell was he going to let Vlad tell people they were any way related.

It took him a second to register what name Vlad had even said.

Bruce Wayne? He remembers Sam and Tucker talking about that guy and his family when they found out he was going to Gotham. Which means if he's remembering correctly then the young man next to Vlad is most likely Dick Grayson and the older teen next to him is Tim Drake.

Without looking at him Bruce leans towards him and whispers, "Shh Damian, let me handle this."

Wait. What?

"I'm not-" Danny tried to say that his name wasn't Damian, but was quickly interrupted before he could.

"Damian, quiet." Bruce lowly growls; still not moving his gaze to look at Danny. "Actually, Mr. Masters, you'll find that this is my son, and I don't think you should be putting your hands on him."

Vlad looks from Bruce to Danny and then back to Bruce, "While I do agree that you and Daniel share some resemblance this is not your son Mr. Wayne."

It seems Bruce wasn't going to entertain Vlad's "lie" because he still doesn't bother to even look at Danny. Tim on the other hand seems to consider what Vlad said, and turns to actually look at his face.

Danny almost laughs out loud when he sees shock immediately overtake Tim's face. At least one of these fruit loops is smart enough to recognize that he isn't the youngest Wayne.

"Bruce, this isn't Damian." Tim states with wide eyes still locked with his.

Upon hearing this the other two Wayne's finally take a hard look at Danny for themselves.

"Oh my God B, that's not Damian!" Dick exclaims before releasing his hold on Vlad.

Bruce on the other hand is frozen in shock as he stares at Danny as he comes to the realization that the boy in front of him is in fact not his youngest son. Snapping himself out of his stupor, the older man finally addresses Vlad. "Mr. Masters, my deepest apologies. It seems this young man and my son look remarkably alike, and I assumed the worst when I saw him fighting to get into the car."

Vlad takes a step forward towards Danny clear with his intentions of getting them into the car now, but before he can grab him Bruce is once more taking a step in front of Danny. "I would actually like to have a quick word with Daniel if you won't mind."

"And why is that?"

"I have a son his age after all, maybe I can help ease this teenage rebellion phase, and cause less fights when it comes to getting in the car."

Danny must have been more focused on the growing argument in front of him more than he thought because he ends up slightly jumping when he feels a sudden hand on his shoulder. Looking to his right he sees that Dick is now standing next him with a soft smile. "Daniel, right?"

“Danny actually, and you’re Dick?”

"Yup! That's me," He gestures to the boy standing on Danny's other side, "and this is Tim. Sorry about all this; we thought our brother was being kidnapped."

"Do I seriously look that much like him?" At this point Danny had to meet Damian if the guy's family was even confusing the two of them.

Tim is giving him a concentrated look when he replies, "It's like the two of you could be twins or maybe even clones. The eye color is the biggest difference between the two of you."

If Danny didn't know any better he would think Tim was accusing him of being a clone based on the tone of his voice. He knew Gotham was weird, but he didn't think he would have to worry about cloning here. "While I was adopted when I was pretty young, but I think I'd know if I had a twin or if I was a clone."

"Crazy things happen all the time in Gotham."

Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all. Danny can't believe saying this, but it's probably time to get Vlad's attention and get the hell out of here. He already has one crazy fruitloop to worry about; he doesn't need more. "Vlad, I think we really need to-."

“Father, what is the meaning of all this?” A new voice interrupts him, and when he sees who it is truly shocking to see a mirror of his own face. The other is also now looking at him with something akin to shock and grief.

“Damian?”

“Danyal.”

[olderthannetfic]

Tagging question! In canon, a character has a magic-induced health problem. Basically, every so often, he has days moving his back in any way causes staggering amounts of pain and he has severe fatigue. He can't get upright under his own power during severe episodes. Painkillers do not work. The frequency of episodes starts off once every few months but by this point in canon has become a once or twice a week problem. It can hit right out of nowhere even if he was fine all day today or he can wake up with it.

Fandom wank being what it is, people keep insisting to me that this is not a disability. I tagged the fic with Disabled Character because since he's the main character of the fic and this... look, I'm not disabled? I could be wrong. But to me this feels like a disability. If I met someone with this IRL with a non-magical cause I would go, "I 100% believe this qualifies as a disability" without question. But oh, wow. The fandom does NOT agree with me on this. I've gotten several annoyed remarks by people informing me that this is belittling the pain actual disabled people have because disabilities, unlike curses, can't be lifted. And I can see that there's a difference. Thing is, he can't canonically afford to pay to have the curse lifted. He's stuck with it.

Because every single person in this conversation is abled, though, I feel like they're not who I should be listening to. OTNF, I know your readership includes disabled people. Do you/they have any suggestions? Does he qualify as disabled, or am I too attached to my headcanon-y idea of him as being a metaphor for disability?

--

I don't think that's a metaphor. I think that's a canonically (magically) disabled character.

What say you, readers?

[margoshamangolord]

A BIG POST WHY TFA SENTINEL IS A GOOD CHARACTER WHILE STILL BEING A FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT

lots of thoughts under cut

I hated him like any tfa viewer is expected to, and i still do, because he's wrong oftenly and very fucking immature about his own actions, but it's just that fandom treats him like a simple flat cardboard designed for nagging the main characters, while he's not. Even people usually fond of discussing character depth just go "ew" at him, but i want to prove that he's not worse than even ratchet or bumblebee in terms of writing. His actions have depths, reasons and explanations. I do not want to excuse him in points where he actually fucked up, but i do want to remind that he's a character with a history and insecurities like others in tfa

I want to start off with the fact that while the hate he has inside the fandom is not really interesting, it is easily expected. He acts like a piece of shit and has a lot of negative traits (for example you have his attitude towards organics, and while you could kinda write it into being a reaction to Elita's 'death', it wouldn't be really valid, since Optimus was there too, he saw the same things as him, but he has no disgust towards humans)

The first thing i want to show would be this screenshot from the allspark almanac. It actually broke me when i saw it and prompted to write this because it brilliantly explains his whole character drama.

He feels guilty. He actually knows and admits he made a mistake and he is weighed down by it. He is fully and painfully aware of his stupidity in the situation.

But is he going to admit it? Is he going to apologise? Of course he's not. He cannot carry the weight of his guilt, but he cannot apologise and let himself be weak. So he made a vow.

He presses Optimus down and puts that weight on him because it's easier for him to stand straight reassuring himself that he's not at fault at all here. He feels that if he says sorry, then he'll be guilty forever and will never let go if he acknowledges it. He is guilty and he knows it, but he's immature and he does not want to think about it at all. He distracts himself with the rules and regulations.

"I did it, i fucked up trying to be something greater than i should, breaking rules. I'm never gonna wash it off, I'm guilty, but i must be better. If I don't make any more attempts at throwing over the rules, if I hold down others from doing so, i will be better, right?"

Rules are safety and comfort for him. Breaking rules and trying to be special is something he associates with Elita's death, and his thought process basically is "no rule breaking=no tragic accidents to be responsible for". He's confident that if he does everything by protocol, how he's told, then there will be no situation he would have to be blamed in. Of course he takes it to an extent. You oftenly see him obsessing over rules and regulations more oftenly than others — and now that makes sense.

The second thing would be his profile and Optimus's words about him. This text doesn't really serve us much important information, just a simple outside opinion on how he acts, except the first phrase.

"Sentinel means well, he really does."

As bizzare as it sounds, even Optimus, who he has a very sour relationship with, understands this. Sentinel actually means well — but it's just his experience and perception that really distort what comes out in the end. His "well" is very different from others' "well", but he definitely does not actually mean intentional harm in most occasions.

An unconcious goal that he most likely has is "do not let the elita incident happen again". It actually explains why he's trying to press down Optimus's ambitions and yells at young autobots about the importance of listening to the code. He may see himself in others.

Last is miscellaneous details. He actually covered Optimus and Elita when they were retreating — wouldn't do this if he was as selfish as creators want us to believe. He says he made a mistake in the almanac (when he was kinda being interviewed, he told the truth). Wouldn't really do that too. Most times he's been a dick to Optimus and his crew were him simply not believing immediate information without proof like he believes is the right way, like he's supposed to, and from his perspective he was genuinely sure he's doing the right thing

Conclusion

I would still slap him if i met him. But it doesn't mean that he should be rushed and avoided during discussion of character flaws and I'm tired of him just getting flatted down by the fandom as "mean and stupid do not touch". I want him to be taken seriously, and tbh finding out that he actually feels bad about archa seven is all it takes to be suddenly enlightened about the inner workings of his brain, because it connects all the dots.

And i would give all my money to see him canonically get a better development and more focus in the show. I would love if he accepted his wrongs, and if he had a genuinely honest conversation with Optimus. I really would.

[drdemonprince]

I’ve only just read your Burnout piece on Substack and it made me think of the anon you answered awhile back about anti depressants and anti anxiety medications.

I’m Autistic and am on anti anxiety medication which basically masked all the warning signs and symptoms of Autistic burnout. Those usual indicators I usually can pick up on which indicate I’m doing too much and not resting enough weren’t present on the medication.

I felt good (although very numb like the anon said) so I kept on taking on more and more and initially thought it was great! I’ve never been able to commit to things or work on multiple projects at once even ones that super interest and excite me because I get overwhelmed and burnt out quickly.

But without the warning signs I kept going and going until I started to feel really weird. Disassociated, not sleeping, upset stomach, drinking a lot. I thought everything was great so it took awhile to piece together that this is maybe what Autistic burnout results in when it’s covered by meds.

I’m now slowly withdrawing from the meds. I figure the authentic anxiety is better than false measures of “success”.

So just a warning to Autistic people I guess, I don’t know if what I’ve experienced is common or just subjective but it’s worth being aware of.

This is pretty much how I feel about psychiatric medication for myself, as well. I want the warning signs. I want to notice my body and brain rebelling. A lot of psychiatric drugs are somewhat effective at making us feel more numb, for a while, which is why they are used as a stopgap when a person's situation is unmanageable. I'm a big believer in the "Affect as Information" Hypothesis: when we feel like shit, that means something about our circumstances simply has got to change. Often that means giving up responsibilities, letting people down, letting things go.

I even feel the same way about weed. I have a lot of friends who use weed daily to manage their overwhelm, and it seems to work great for them, and potentially I should be doing the same thing. But I am terrified of having a massive dependence on a large quantity of weed in order to function, and when I *did* use weed daily, it became a baseline need and made me dissociate even further from myself. I now take the desire to use weed or otherwise get blasted as a signal that something is amiss and that I'm overwhelmed and seeking escape -- that doesn't mean I don't listen to that desire some of the time. I get high and/or drunk on the weekends pretty often. But I don't want to lose touch with my body's warning system. AND I have the immense luxury of being able to change my life circumstances when things get to be too much. If someone doesn't have that freedom, well, sometimes substances are the best thing you can get - be that psychiatric or off market.

[imaginespazzi]

niviiiiii where you at my love??? need your game recap and your crashout over ur wifey being back on the court!!

48 hours later, and now that I can remember the game for more than just Azzi because really that's all I could think about on the actual day, I do have actual game thoughts:

Thank god I had that cloud of happiness about Azzi coming back because if I didn't, I think that game might have actually killed my soul because quite frankly, I didn't think that game was great by any stretch. And listen I love my alums, I love seeing them, love their support etc. etc. but please for the love of god, they can never come to a game against a real opponent and they needa stay so far away from the team during March/April.

The one thing I did enjoy: SARAH FUCKING STRONG. She was just so good and she really just does everything on the court at such a high level. AND THE THREES ARE FALLING! Like everyone should be really scared because Sarah is the real fucking deal.

Thank god Paige lowkey had a good second half because if she'd kept playing the way the she did that first half, the discourse would've been unbearable and I wouldn't have even stepped into defend her like girlie was doing her best *not* to beat the allegation from ND last year. But as always, when she wasn't contributing scoring wise, Paige did everything else. Grandpa should've let her get that double-double.

I like that Ice seems to be becoming consistent with what she does

Thank god for KC in the first half! That's that veteran experience bleeding through where despite the rims apparently being closed for UConn, she found a way. Hopefully that translates to a higher ranked opponent.

We need more from Ash but I do like that she's being aggressive

JANA GIRL LAYUPS!! Please for the love of god truly nothing irritates me more and I'm assuming by the looks he was giving her, Geno's gonna get on her ass about it.

KK continues to give us that spark off the bench but she's still making some freshman mistakes.

Speaking of sparks, Morgan has a definitive impact that won't show up on the box score, but you see it when she steps on the floor every game.

Allie baby I fear you're gonna have to wait your turn and that might not be till next year

AND FINALLY AZZI FUDD!! Man I was just so happy to see my girl so happy to play and she could've score 0 points and I would've felt like she'd scored 50. Gonna add another anon here because I think they captured it pretty well:

Like obviously she didn't do anything otherwordly but immediately you can tell she's moving well and the fact that she was willing to make shot after missing is a great read on her new mentality. AND THE DEFENSE. I remember Azzi saying that's what she took most pride in, in HS, so if we can get that defensive minded Azzi + her shots start falling, well...Geno might faint out of love for her lol.

Overall with opponents like this, it's all about how you beat them and we didn't do it particularly beautifully but like I've been saying, this is a young team and it's early days. I think the Bahama's will be a great test for them and especially if they get Ole Miss, I think we're gonna learn a lot.

[thethingsnerd]

This one. I like this one. Fic under the cut

“Your input is not necessary.”

It’s not the first time Bruce had said that to Dick tonight. It would be less frustrating if B was making better calls- he’s not really listening to anyone else tonight, not just Dick, and his decision making is suffering for it.

Everyone's tempers are suffering for it, too.

It starts with Oracle, who hates when Batman falls back into bad habits like this as much as Dick does, and has twice as less patience for it. She's curtly professional from the word "go" and when Dick offers to bring her a pint of cherry garcia later, Barbara tells him to shove it up his ass instead. Dick doesn't take it personally.

Next is Cass, who's always extra stressed when Barbara's upset. Even so, it blindsides Dick. They'd ended up at the same shootout, they'd efficiently gotten the surrounding civilians to safety, they'd worked together beautifully. They de-escalate the gun fight next, and Dick knocks a gun out of a gangster's hand before he can shoot Blackbat in the back. He doesn't think twice about it until Cass starts castigating him on the roof.

"I didn't need help."

"He was behind you. That's the whole point of a patrol partner, Blackbat, so someone can cover your six."

"No."

"No?"

"You were out of rhythm."

"I was not-"

"You're throwing me off."

She's running before Dick can say anything else. He could catch up with her, if he really tried, but he's still not sure what that was about. Maybe Dick is as out-of-sync as Cass insisted, or maybe Cass is feeling off-kilter herself. Either way, he doesn't go after her.

The rest of the night shift is uneventful, aside from the snipe over comms. Back at the Cave is a different story. Steph and Tim are arguing when Dick rolls in, and Dick gets all of three steps toward the computer before they round on him instead.

"Dick! Tell Tim that-"

"No, Dick, inform Stephanie-"

"Oooh full name, I'm so chastened, Timothy-"

"You should be embarrassed-"

"Okay!" Dick interjects. "What is the problem?"

Steph glances between Dick and Tim, glances at her feet, then sighs aggressively. "Nothing," she grits out. "Absolutely nothing, so for once in your life leave it alone, you busybody."

Dick watches as she stomps away. Just a bad night, he has to remind himself that it's just a bad night. Tim shakes his head when Dick glances at him, so Dick heads straight to the showers.

Clean, warm, and dressed down in comfy sweats, Dick feels much better than has all day. He'd passed Damian on the stairs, but something was clearly eating at the kid- he'd taken one look at Dick and turned sharply in the other direction. Hiding. Dick's been there, and valiantly tries not to take it personally.

He decides to make himself some chamomile (he'll never take sleeping pills again after don't think about it) and takes a moment to check in with himself. His therapist would be proud. Alfred would be proud of how nicely his chamomile turns out; Dick almost always understeeps herbal tea but tonight he's gotten it just right.

Dick sips his tea. He takes inventory of his injuries; minimal bruising, achy lower back, tender left wrist. Pretty good. Then takes stock of the rest of him; tired but not yet sleepy, agitated but not too badly. All in all, considering all the tension, tonight definitely could have been worse.

Famous last words.

Tim walks into the kitchen just as Dick gets to the dregs of his chamomile. Dick nods at him in greeting, and Tim does not take it well.

"Oh, now you acknowledge me?"

Dick does not sigh. He doesn't but it is such a near thing. "Did I not acknowledge you some other time tonight?"

"I asked you to back me up downstairs and you totally ignored me!"

"I did no such thing. You were in the middle of an argument I didn't catch the start of, so I asked what the problem was. How is that ignoring you?"

"I asked you for backup and you didn't come through," Tim hisses.

"Backup in the field and backup in a lovers' quarrel are not the same-"

"It wasn't a- a lovers' quarrel, asshat!"

"Well, how am I supposed to know when you don't say what's really going on?"

"You shouldn't need to know! I asked for backup-the only thing you're good for is backup and you couldn't even do that right!"

......yeah, alright, there's no getting around it. Dick is going to have to take that personally.

Dick deliberately turns away from Tim. He rinses out his teacup so the porcelain won't stain. Then, he takes a long, centering breath, and decides to do something he hasn't done in a long time.

"That how you really feel, Tim?" One more out.

"Yes."

Dick decides to cut his losses.

"Okay then."

"Okay?" Tim asks. Clearly still angry but now confused as well. It's a bad look for him. "This is not an 'okay' kind of situation."

"Not from your angle," Dick says. It's the only reply Tim gets before Dick makes his way upstairs.

Last time he left Gotham at dawn, Dick had nothing but a backpack and stolen emergency cash. This time, Dick is a grown man and a lot less desperate, not to mention a lot less injured, so he digs out his civilian suitcase and actually plans out what he wants to take.

He packs jackets, pajamas, shaving razors, plenty of socks- the kinds of things that are only expensive when purchased by the Wayne Estate, and that he won't buy for himself. All shoes go in a beach bag he has stashed in his closet, except for his loafers which go in the bottom of the dress bag with his most tolerable black tie suit. That had annoyed him last time, he remembers- Alfred had always been so militantly insistent on perfect tailoring that the baggy fit of Dick's off-the-rack replacement had been an unbearable insult to injury.

Other personal affects get tucked in the suitcase with care, bits and bobs, odds and ends, and he zips up everything just as the clock hits 4:00. Even the most workaholic bats should be in bed by now, or at least upstairs, so he should be good for a pop down.

Dick has a Nightwing stash on the edge of the city, and he'll get most of his kit from there, but his costume and his current favorite pair of escrima sticks are going with him now, neatly folded into a briefcase. Dick also nabs a keyring on his way out of Bruce's office.

The car keys used to stay in the garage with their respective vehicles, but one too many joyrides had prompted Bruce to hoard all the keys in a desk drawer instead. The first time Dick had seen them under the monogrammed stationary Bruce never uses, he'd laughed out loud.

It pains Dick to leave his bike behind, but even though Dick doesn't have a lot of luggage, it's still too much for a motorcycle. He'd considered which car to take carefully; no flashy sports car, obviously, but also not one that Bruce is particularly fond of. He needs a car for practical reasons, not spite, so Dick settles on the least ostentatious Audi and tries to think of anything else he might want in the next five-to-ten years.

Dick takes the box of chamomile tea bags.

__________

Donna opens her apartment door on the fourth knock. The look on her face is superficially friendly that Dick's proud of her- of course, she smiles for real when she registers just who it is at her door. Dick finds himself smiling back before he decides to.

"Hey, Donna. Mind if I crash here for a minute?"

Donna raises a curious eyebrow, and Dick bites his lips to keep from grinning. Donna ushers him inside without a word, locks her door, and all but pushes Dick into a bar stool. Donna sits herself up on her counter in front of him and demands eye contact.

"When you say a minute, do you mean a New York minute?"

Dick slides his eyes away and toward her couch. "I mean a lot of minutes. I'm cutting Gotham off."

"AAAA!" Donna picks him up and spins him in the air for several more turns than he thinks this really warrants. Then Donna sets them on the floor just to twirl Dick around even more, and he giggles. Part amusement, mostly relief; Donna wouldn't be so excited if he'd come at a bad time.

"Was the scream of delight necessary?" He asks, still laughing.

"Entirely," she says, mock serious. "This is a delightful day."

Donna sobers a bit at her own words. She eyes him more thoroughly, "It is a delightful day, yes?"

He knows that Donna knows he wouldn't decide to cut contact for no reason, that's not the real question. The answer to her question, which is 'are you reeling from what it was', is thankfully 'no'. Not today.

"Yeah," Dick says honestly. "Peachy, even."

Donna smiles at him.

She deposits him back at her kitchen counter, declares she's going to make real breakfast- apparently she's been breaking her fast with fruit jerky all week- and starts grilling Dick the same time she starts frying up sfakianopita.

"So which straw broke the camel's back?"

"My brother implied I'm mildly useless and I took offense."

"Only 'mildly' useless convinced you to get out of hell? I'm not complaining, but that doesn't sound like you."

Dick bites down the instinctive urge to deflect, to push her away. Donna wouldn't care even if Tim insulting him had been his only grievance. Donna is happy to have him here.

"Nah, it was more of a... death of a thousand cuts kind of thing. Yesterday was a bad night, and I thought about it some- which, you know how that usually goes- I thought about it, and I'm tired of not taking any of it personally. Even if they don't mean it, I don't want to put up with it. Then Tim comes in with an unmistakably personal attack and...."

"And you made the best decision."

Dick's mouth twitches up. "They wouldn't call it that."

"They have terrible decision making skills."

Donna starts stacking the sfakianopita on two plates.

"That's not true, they just don't always pay attention."

"Who does these days?" Donna gripes.

"You," Dick says.

Donna turns toward him, one hand on her hip, one hand pointing her spatula at Dick's face. "You don't make it easy, Dick."

Dick shrugs emphatically. "What can I say? I was born difficult."

"Not difficult," Donna shakes her head. "Just challenging."

"And you like a challenge?" Dick grins.

Donna bops him on the shoulder with the spatula. "Get it right, Dick. I love a challenge."

Well, doesn't that make Dick feel warm and cozy? Donna smirks at him like she's won something (she has and they both know it) and turns to root through her fridge for cheese. Dick gets out of his seat to find the honey while she does.

__________

Dick crashes on Donna's couch for exactly nine days before she tells him they're getting a new place together. Dick tells Donna that he always intended on getting his own space- a misstep, since Donna argues that's exactly why they should get a new apartment. A two bedroom, where Dick can have more privacy.

"I don't want to impose, Donna."

"Have you ever considered what I want?"

Dick sighs. "What do you want, Don?"

"I want company. It's been a lonely year, D. I enjoy when my friends impose."

There's not much he can say to argue that. Isolating himself never leads Dick anywhere good, anyway.

Between apartment hunting and catching up, Donna and Dick fight supervillains. New York City never lacks for things to do- smugglers to send packing, wannabe world conqueror to thwart, assholes to kick in the face. Dick had honestly forgotten how fun it is to patrol during the day.

He adds some some gold back into his costume. Dick's surprised by how much he likes it- it was his idea, yet when he catches glimpses of blue and gold and black all blurring together in high rise windows, beside Donna's sea of stars, Dick feels more like himself than he has in long, long time.

He starts picking up a lot of dropped habits. He makes dinner; real dinner, like Madam Vasilyev used to make on the train's little stove, and like he would sometimes make for the Titans for family team dinners. It's so much easier to make things when it isn't for him alone. Donna is happy to let him, having no great love of cooking herself, and always supportive of non-cape hobbies.

She's full of surprises, though. Dick had tried to teach all of his friends at least one or two meals they could make from scratch themselves, just in case. He hadn't thought about whether any of it had been retained, though, not now, so many years removed. Not until Donna one day bestows upon him a pot of chicken paprikash and he almost cries.

It's delicious. Just like his parents used to make, whenever they could find a grocer who sold paprika. Just like he taught Donna to make it in the Tower an entire lifetime ago.

"Did I get it right?"

"Did you make it with love?"

"Of course."

"Then you got it perfectly right."

Other than dinner, he starts gardening. Nothing serious, but the new apartment has a couple of windows, so Dick plants a window box full of herbs.

He plants cilantro first. The seeds were on sale at the hardware store, so the whole box was just cilantro, for a while. Donna buys live basil from a grocer she likes, so one of the cilantros gets pawned off to a neighbor, and their pasta sauces taste awesome.

It's not the most exciting hobby, but it gets him out of bed on Bad Days.

Those days, it's hard to do anything at all. It hits him, when the clouds are just the wrong color, that he and Bruce are on the outs again. He hates being on the outs with Bruce, hates that it means another bond between them has snapped. Makes him catastrophize about whether or not this is finally the fence that can't be mended.

At least it's not nearly as bad as it was Before. Dick hadn't understood, back then, what Bruce's problem was. Now that he's older he knows Bruce had never had to let someone walk away before- even with Talia, B had been the one to walk away first- and took Dick's bid for independence badly as a result.

He'd swung by Gotham exactly once for Jason, and stole the kid away to Tower at every opportunity. He'd made sure Jase was present in Dick's space the way Dick was no longer welcome in Bruce's.

He'd gone back to Gotham exactly one other time, after Bruce held Jason's funeral without so much a ping on Dick's pager. All that accomplished was losing Dick his house key. Until Tim barged in.

Donna and Dick were winding down for the night, enjoying a nice bottle of wine and a shared bowl of plantain chips, when Dick makes another decision.

"Donna."

"Dick." She tosses a chip in the air so she can catch it in her mouth.

"I've had an epiphany." He swirls the wine in his glass playfully. Donna leans forward in her chair.

"Do tell."

"Every time I don't want to talk to Bruce, he finds a new stray child to bring home. And I always go, because what I am supposed to do? Not keep an eye on them? But Bruce has a billion orphans-"

Donna snorts. "A billion?"

"Okay, fine, half a dozen orphan children roosting in his house full of ghosts, and it's probably inevitable that there will be another and you know what, sister?" He drains the rest of his wine glass while she stares at him.

Donna seems to consider him, or maybe she zones out, but after a moment she similarly liberates her glass of its wine.

"Lay it on me, Robin."

"I'm not going back this time. Not until someone actually apologizes, not if there's a new bat, not if there's another secret baby, not for any of that bullshit. Tim's as old as I was when Tim first came around, so he can deal with it. Or Cass. Or Babs. Or Bruce can keep his act together for longer than two weeks at a time I don't care. I won't be lured back for family drama. Not this time."

Dick stops to breathe. A mistake, really, as it's the perfect opportunity for stinging anxiety to start buzzing under every inch of his skin. He's an idiot. What a stupid thing to say, what a stupid idea to even have-

Donna is in front of Dick. When did she get out of her chair?

"Richard John Grayson."

"Donna Hinckley Stacy Troy."

I've come to a decision, too. Tell me if it's a good one."

Then she pulls him into a hug. Dick swallows heavily and lets himself be held, for a while.

"Good decision?" Donna asks.

"I think so," he says. He wraps his arms around Donna, reciprocating- God, how long has it been since he's had a reciprocal relationship? Donna squeezes and he throws the thought out of his mind. The awful pull against his insides has subsided, so now he's just warm and loose.

"Donna, do you like my decision?"

"I really really do."

__________

When they were still in Donna's old apartment, various Gothamites tried to contact him. A lot of voicemails are angry and accusing. He listens to them once just in case and deletes them right after. He gets texts from Tim that he knows are meant as olive branches, but they're all offers of joint patrols, or going over case files together, or similar Mission oriented activities.

It's hard to turn him down, especially since he knows Tim won't understand. It's easier to ignore Bruce's messages, sparse as they are, demanding explanations.

Cass had broken into Donna's apartment. Donna had been out with a friend she met in her photography club, doing yoga maybe? Dick had been making egg fried rice for lunch when a wild Bat appeared.

Dick had smiled politely, which seemed to confuse her. Dick had offered to share his lunch, which seemed to make her feel better.

They’d eaten in silence for a while, Cass occasionally staring hard at him while Dick waited for her to make the first move; exactly how Dick would treat a hungry kid he didn’t know. You never know what will spook a stranger, after all.

Bowls empty, Dick had gone to pick hers up to wash when she caught his wrist.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to wash up after our lunch.”

Cass squints at him, exaggerating her expression to make sure he gets her memo.

“You know what I mean. Don’t pretend.”

“I’m not pretending to do the dishes,” he answers calmly, blandly.

“Stop pretending you don’t know me!”

“What would you prefer I do?”

“Go home.”

“No.”

That doesn’t seem to be what she’d expected him to say. She’d expected pushback, for certain, but flat refusal, nothing else? An unwelcome miscalculation.

“Why not?”

“At the moment, I won’t feel at home in Gotham. As far as I’m concerned I’m at home right now.”

“Liar,” she’d hissed. Dick was watching, tho, and saw the confusion in her stance. Her eyes told her he wasn’t lying at all. Deliberately on Dick’s part, not entirely truthful, yet not entirely manufactured- the apartment may not be special to him, but Donna always will be.

“I have no reason to go to Gotham right now.”

“Your team is there.”

“I’m not on Team Bat at the moment.”

“You can’t quit-“

“Cassandra. My roommate will be home soon. I suggest you leave now, if you have nothing to say on your own behalf.”

It’s a low blow to call her a messenger, to write her off as nothing but a mouthpiece for Bruce or Tim or maybe even Damian. Dick wouldn’t feel bad about it if they weren’t close, so he won’t feel bad about it now; she’s the one who didn’t want partner, Dick’s just respecting her wishes.

Cass stares and keeps staring so long he’s worried she’ll refuse to leave, but then they both heard footsteps in the hall, and by the time Dick turns back toward her she’d already gone.

The next morning, Dick had a new message from Bruce. It was an email, that time, instead of a text, which more than anything actually written lets Dick know Bruce has caught on to what’s happened. What is still happening. The email begins ‘Mr. Grayson-Wayne’ and Dick doesn’t read a single word further.

__________

Wally visits the new apartment shortly after they move in. Apparently, Nightwing being in town again has caught the interest of an opinion columnist or two, and Wally had wanted to see him with his own eyes.

“You’re hanging out with people again!”

“I never stopped,” Dick protests. “We see each other once a month, Wally.”

“Scheduled visits- ugh, it’s like you were in prison, and I only got to see you during your time in the yard.” All of this is dramatically declared as Wally flops on their couch, taking up space and definitely bothering the neighbors.

It should annoy Dick. It should at least hurt his ego. Instead, it makes him bloom into a smile, and throw himself onto the couch next to his friend.

“Donna and I have been having a great time without you,” he teases. “We could have an even better time with you, if you’re up for it.”

“Dickie, I thought you’d never ask.”

The Flash joins Dick and Donna for a fight every now and then, patrolling as often as work and Central City will allow. It’s good- it’s really, really good.

“Why did we disband?”

“Because we grew up?”

“Terrible decision.”

“Adulthood is overrated.”

“I don’t know, I certainly wouldn’t want to be a teenager again, would you?”

“Nah.” “NO!”

Wally looks away from the conversation he started, and his eyes find the window box. “Hey Ds, is that a garden?”

“It’s mine,” Dick says. “Right now it’s just cilantro and basil. I’m open to suggestions.”

Wally gives him a once over, looks again at the plants, then changes the subject. The next time Wally comes over he’s holding a pot of chives.

A couple of months later, there’s a siren hiding out in the Harbor. It kicks Dick’s ass and Donna almost drowns. It occurs to them that they are idiots, and that they should’ve called Garth. Garth, thankfully, both answers his communicator and has time for them, so they get to watch Tempest absolutely destroy the siren.

Afterward, they go for pizza. They ask Garth if he would want to come around more often maybe, just because?

Garth smiles brighter than the moon.

The first time they stop a supervillain downtown together, it’s all the papers will talk about the next day. Someone got an excellent picture of all four of them in action. Flash is about to pounce, so he’s still enough to see. He’s tagged in with Donna, distracting the giant rat monster from the air so Flash can trip it into the river. On the bank, left of center in the photo, Tempest and Nightwing and are on standby. Garth will drench the awful thing, all fifteen stories of it, once it’s close enough to the water, and Nightwing will fry the thing with all the electricity his sticks have got.

They work together smoothly, and they cheer when they win, and the papers all ask, ‘Titans Back Together?’

After a while of mulling it over, they unanimously decide to answer ‘yes’.

Listen I love the ‘dicks being ostracized from his family and self destructs’ trope in fics however

I would like an inverse just once (I could write it but I want this fic to be good so I can enjoy it and I am not the greatest writer) where everyone blows up at him and flat out lays into him and he just goes… okay… if that’s how you feel?

Takes himself off of the patrol routes and rosters. He’s off the emergency calls and his ‘call for city wide emergency’ has been down graded to ‘call for world wide emergency’ he’s no longer on comms with oracle

He stops offering assistance to the other kids teams, doesn’t send info for investigation and doesn’t go within 100feet of Gotham.

Takes himself off the den-mother, baby sitter, trainer for all the younger teams lost that involve any and all bats

In the beginning he vacates his apartment and temporarily moves in with Donna in New York and things are good because of course they are. They’re Dick and Donna a world doesn’t exist where they aren’t okay.

And then his presence in New York leads to a lot of the og core five titans interacting and they realize that they miss each other like hell and start to work together more and more. Until news sites are like ‘teen titans grown up??’ ‘Original titans spotted doing hurricane aid in Florida!’

Because Dick loves his family but he knows when to bow out. And he chose the family he made in the new teen titans.

And then one day one of the bats track him down in nyc and breaks into what is now Dick and Donna’s apartment and are ready to argue that they need him back and need him there for a huge Gotham wide event.

And Dick says ‘sure okay let me get my stuff and we leave in half and hour’ as soon as the first sentence is out

No convincing or begging or asking for money (cough Jason cough)

Dick is patched into their comms and he’s working efficiently except he’s not… acting like himself.

He’s collaborating with whoever they tell him too, no problem, he’s discussing ideal plans and co-ops and teams and how to best get it under control.

But he’s talking to them the way he talks when he’s offering aid to teams he’s not a part of.

Like the hero version of an acquaintance and no one can call him out on it because he’s doing good work. Work that’s on par with his work before this whole fiasco. He explicitly isn’t letting their personal issues affect his work.

He’s speaking but not talking

And Bruce remembers this… he’s probably the only one who does because last time he was the only one included. The last time Dick acted like this is when he first visited Jason and him after he had been fired.

Whenever Bruce was in the room and Dick was forced to speak with him, the conversation never strayed past business casual especially around Jason.

Batman and Nightwing got into screaming matches

Bruce and Dick were strangers

And now they’re back to this, 7 kids later, a million ends of the world stopped, they’ve bled together, cried together and clung to each other in pure relief after they managed to clutch victory.

And Nightwing was treating Batman Inc like a new team stepping onto the scene.

Once they’ve secured everything and managed to keep Bruce from self destructing and making it worse. Dick just leaves and tells oracle that he’ll send over his debrief in 3-5 business days and it was nice working with them.

And then he’s gone

No cave, no manor, no Alfred, no med-bay because Dick doesn’t stay places he’s not welcome.

And after they all talk about that and how weird it was and Bruce reveals Dick did this before when he was Nightwing after Bruce fired, where Dick Grayson didn’t know Bruce Wayne.

And one of the kids asks when he broke and stopped the act and Bruce just says ‘the day he found out Jason died’

And the Batkids kinda freak bc what do you mean?? What is he only going to come back when someone dies? Thats not? There has to be another way?? And Bruce is like yeah no idea sorry (bc he’s helpful like that)

So then Steph the next day resolves to go visit him, Tim isn’t the only professional stalker. And she finds Dick and Donna’s apartment and well it’s daylight and she’s in civvies she’s if she climbs in through the window she might get reported to the NYPD and she doesn’t wanna get arrested or shot to door it is!

And so she goes and knocks and Dick opens the door and just lights up

Something something this is such a nice surprise something something it’s so good to see you.

Dick had taught Donna how to make some of his mother recipes when they were kids. So now whenever they’re together for a long time they cook together.

So Dick who is usually living in a cluttered apartment with no clean dishes and an exclusively grab and go food is now trying to force feed her some of his cooking.

Because he picked up the habit again since he’s the better cook between him and Donna.

And it’s delicious and he wants to catch up and hear everything that’s going on in her life, is she working with new people, dating anyone? How is her relationship with her mother etc etc.

It’s a nice day and she stays late and never confronts him on anything until she sees how long ago the sun set and she needs to get moving.

He hands her paper with his number and makes her promise not to give it to the others or she will lose access to it, he offers to help her on a conditional basis as nightwing but only her, she can call him about the rest if it’s an end of the world or they’re near death and need immediate aid.

And that’s like the fic because the key to winning nightwings assistance is like breathing (optional) but if you’re Dicks family you have to care or else. He’ll love you and help you, when you need it but he won’t tie his life up with yours, he’ll spend his time with people who value his opinion and the person behind the mask.

Anyway cue all the Batkids trying to do what Steph did and fail because they’re neurotic shits who think bonding involves doing casework together or a steak out.

(The next person to crack it is Damian, completely unintentionally he has a fight with Bruce and can’t ask him how the fuck he’s supposed to solve this equation in the new stupid way they’re teaching him no he can’t use the old method they’re supposed to show their work so he pulls up to Dick and Donna’s in a ratty ass hoodie like plz wtf do you mean you work top down explain Grayson- and dicks like awww no problem kid)

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hi! I enjoy suffering for a couple of minutes with your angst stories hahaha

It's a fact that Donna is a very cultured woman so how about a storie where she and reader are soon to be married and all that, but reader insecurities have been eating her alive cuz she doesn't feel intelligent enough next to Donna, like they don't share the same music taste, maybe reader enjoys pop and newer artists unlike Donna and she tries to suppress that. reader thinks donna will think less of her or something.

one day maybe one of donna's siblings makes fun of reader's lack of knowledge in the arts or something and that makes reader just snaps and cause a fight back at home and throwing the wedding ring to donna and telling her to find a wife worthy of someone smart like her. donna comforts reader telling her she only wants her, and already noticing that reader doesn't know the same things like her, tells her she knows about other stuff and has other talents making reader realize she is also smart, but with other stuff. fluff at the end of course, not all can't be angst 😅

Yesss!!! I don't know if I should feel flattered to know you suffered... (I'm just joking :P) Thank you for your support and for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

Not enough for you

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, insecurities…

Word count: 7,155

Summary: You thought she was perfect, and you just were stupid....

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Just a heads up: Everyone has their own talents, and I don't think someone is less smart or intelligent. All the people are genius in doing something, the thing is to find what, just remember that!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours :))) I love you all!!!

“Do you think it can be fixed? Maybe we should call the Duke and…” Donna commented as you crouched down, looking at the old record player.

“Mm, let me take a look,” you said, opening the closet doors and illuminating the intricacies of the device with a flashlight. “Yes, I know where the problem is, come.”

The lady in black nodded suspiciously, looking at the place you indicated while arching your eyebrows, satisfied.

“I don't see anything, tesoro,” she said, frowning.

“It's this piece here, it seems that time has passed too quickly for it,” you said amused, moving away from the closet and searching for something in a toolbox. “It just needs to be replaced.”

Donna nodded slowly as you searched for the desired item with a concentrated look.

“Aspetta, (Y/N), it might be dangerous,” the lady said, putting a hand on your shoulder before you started to dig around in the record player. “It might give you a cramp or…”

“Bah, calm down,” you sighed with a distorted voice, as you grabbed the flashlight with your teeth. “Mm, jusft, a bif, tighfer and… voilà,” you finally said, with a satisfied smile, standing up and brushing the dust off your dress.

“Is that it?” she asked, looking at the machine with curiosity. “That easy?”

“Look,” you said with a triumphant look, bringing the old piece closer to the lady. “Do you see this thing here? It seems that it was so worn out that it wasn't able to make the disc tray spin,” you explained, running your finger along the frayed piece. “I think that's why we always listened to the same 2 seconds over and over again.”

“Oh,” Donna sighed, making the same gesture and confirming your words. “It seems that nothing lasts forever”

“It will last, as long as I'm here,” you said arching your eyebrows and putting away the tools. “There is no device that can resist me.”

“I see,” the lady in black said, laughing amused and unexpectedly grabbing your waist while placing a soft kiss on your lips. “Thank you, Lady Beneviento.”

You blushed and gave a soft punch to her shoulder while you struggled amused against her kisses.

“Hey, you haven't stolen my last name yet, let me enjoy it while I can,” you joked, stealing another kiss from the lady. “There's still a month left,”

“I still can't believe you're going to be my wife...” Donna whispered, joining her forehead with yours while her hands caressed your cheeks. “Sometimes I think I'm dreaming and that one day I'll wake up... and you won't be here anymore...”

You opened your eyes and shook your head, lifting the lady's chin.

“Hey, Donna,” you said, getting her attention, taking her out of a brief sad moment, of painful memories. “This is better than any dream.”

She smiled, kissing you again and lifting you in the air, spinning you like one of her old records, creating tender laughter that bounced off the walls of the old mansion.

It had surely been a long time since that wallpaper and those wooden panels had witnessed the happiness of their owner.

“(Y/N)… my wife,” the lady murmured with a tender smile, brushing her nose against yours and making you blush again. “I never thought there would be someone like you in my life, someone to marry, to start a family with…”

“Wow, slow down, darling,” you said amused, pushing the doll maker away with a frown. “Don't go so fast, you are immortal, aren't you? We have enough time for that.”

“You're right, I'm sorry,” she said in a low voice, blinking to get out of her own fantasies. “Sometimes I get too excited.”

“It's okay, I like the way you are, Donna,” you responded to her apologies, stealing one last kiss and definitely moving away from her. Otherwise, you couldn't do it; you were terribly addicted to her kisses.

It was another day, another day that joined the countdown of the most important moment of your life.

In that sinister village, love was the last thing you could expect. Fidelity to the Gods, responsibilities to them and the Lords kept you, the poor villagers, from wishing or dreaming of a normal life.

But you always lived in your dreams, in the desire to change the destiny that had been programmed for you when you were born. You weren’t a fervent devotee like the rest of your friends, and to you, Mother Miranda, and her adopted children weren’t deities but obstacles to deal with.

You always tried to stay away from that fanaticism. You never wanted to follow the complacent and submissive flock. Surely you deserved to be punished for your lack of faith, but soon you learned that your different attitude wouldn’t give you problems, but quite the opposite.

When you met her, when Donna Beneviento, youngest Lord and a dark woman, crossed your path, you began to think that perhaps in some way they were Gods. You didn't think so because of her powers, her living doll, or her beauty, one that took you too long to discover.

The attraction you began to feel for her was very different from your previous love infatuations. Donna exerted an unknown, addictive and merciless influence on you, forcing you, shortly after kissing her lips for the first time, to fall madly in love with her.

Yes, it wasn’t easy to deal with a woman like her; a woman with complexes about her appearance, a sick woman who from a very early age had to see herself enveloped in the halo of darkness that the embrace of the Black Gods gave her without asking.

Difficulties, crises, jealousy, doubts… It was an odyssey worthy of telling in a boring romance book, but it was your odyssey, your adventure, the conquest of a wounded heart, of a lost soul that found its place with you.

After several years in the old mansion, of kisses, hugs, passion, laughter, tears… the lady in black couldn’t wait any longer to strengthen your commitment, to impatiently ask you that words stop being just that, and become an unbreakable union.

Fearing that your romance was only fleeting, full of doubts and insecurities, Donna took the next step to convince you and herself that you would never leave her, that there would be something, a ceremony that would say that indeed, your love was forever.

You couldn't say that you had no doubts about marriage, because that would be a lie. It seemed a little hasty to you despite those 4 wonderful years. Maybe it was because you never considered getting married as something truly important in a place like that.

But, above all, it was important to Donna, and that was all you needed when the lady knelt down and swore eternal love to you by showing you a shiny ring. You rambled for days about what your new status would be: wife of a Lord, consort Lord, wife of an immortal demigoddess...

All of that was just rambling, the product of the innocent doubts of a 21-year-old girl facing something as serious and adult as marriage. You stopped seeing it that way very soon after and you knew exactly what you would be: You would be Donna's wife, and that was more than enough; you would be just (Y/N) Beneviento.

“My love... Are you okay?” you asked carefully when you saw that the lady didn’t move from the spot, looking at the floor. “Honey, you are shaking...” you said worriedly as you took her hand.

“No, I'm not okay,” Donna murmured, blinking erratically, breathing the same way. “I-I got suddenly nervous...”

“Mm,” you murmured caressing her cheek, sad to see how the lady's madness always chose the worst moment to show itself. “Shh, calm down, honey... Oh, Donna, are you having another crisis?”

The lady only nodded, letting herself be comforted by your caresses.

“I-I need a moment,” she whispered with a broken voice, surely fighting against the demons in her mind. “I have to make them shut up…”

“I'll tell Angie to stay with you,” you whispered in a tender voice, enduring the excessively strong grip of her hand in yours. “I'm going to... I'm going to make you some tea.”

“N-No, io...” she stammered, shaking her head. “I'll go, (Y/N), I want to be alone... yes, I... I'll be right back.”

“Okay,” you sighed, nodding and being an expert in controlling those episodes, knowing what to do at every moment. “Okay, honey.”

Poor Donna. Fate had been terribly cruel to her, leaving the illness of her mind as the only memory of her family. It was terribly painful for her but for you, it was much worse.

Luckily, over time you learned to take care of her, to comfort her when the voices in her head whispered horrible things. For you, nothing was impossible with her, nothing would ever stop you from loving her.

“Perdonami, (Y/N)” Donna whispered, moving away from you and walking quickly towards the elevator hallway, letting a sob escape from her lips.

“Donna…” you sighed, feeling helpless for not being able to do anything else for her, resigning and letting yourself fall on the couch, looking for the book you used to read. “Well, I can only wait.”

The truth is that you were never bored during those waits or during Donna's work with her dolls. It was a big mansion, with many old devices to tinker with and an unfinished mountain of books to read.

Besides, you always had company, the Angie doll always ran away from her owner's fits of madness for fear of being deactivated. Well, that’s what she told you, you knew that in reality, even if she denied it, that irreverent doll enjoyed your company.

“It was the detective,” the doll said, pointing at your book with enthusiasm. “I'm sure, silly.”

“How could it have been the detective? Angie, haven't you heard the story?” you asked amused, turning a page. “It was the dressmaker.”

“Oh, you're so sure of your words,” the doll hummed, sitting on your lap. “Where does it say that?”

“It doesn't say that, that's the point,” you said. “Do you even know how to read?”

“I can read your mind,” Angie hissed, getting too close to your face.

“Oh, really?” you asked as your eyes wandered over the letters of that detective story. “Well, I hope you're not reading it to me right now…”

“Hey, you shouldn't judge any character before knowing the truth,” the doll snapped at you, making you roll your eyes. “You have no proof.”

“Oh, I have,” you said nodding, turning another page, looking up when you heard the familiar sound of heels on wood. “Donna, are you better?”

“Sì,” the lady replied, her expression more relaxed, embarrassed. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” you said, going back to your book.

“Hey, Donna, Donna,” the doll said jumping off the couch and tugging at the lady's black dress. “The fool thinks she's Sherlock Holmes or something, she says it was the dressmaker.”

“We were reading,” you explained, letting the lady come closer, giving you a soft kiss on the cheek and glancing at your reading.

“The Tape-Measure Murder,” she commented, whispering the title. “Mm, I'm convinced you don't need to read the end to find out the truth.”

“Sometimes Agatha Christie makes it too easy… it's obvious that it was the dressmaker,” you said amused, raising and lowering your eyebrows.

“You see? She thinks she's Miss Marple,” Angie said, pointing at you mockingly. “It was the detective.”

“I don't want to spoil the ending,” Donna said with a tender smile, pinching your cheek. “But (Y/N) is right… it was the dressmaker,” she whispered, making you protest with a sigh.

“Eh, thank you very much,” you said closing the book. “But well, I was right after all,” you said, looking at Angie in a satisfied way, making her grunt.

“I'm sorry, I'm not as discreet as I thought,” your fiancée apologized, shaking her head. “Mm, but you had barely started reading it,” she commented curiously. “How did you know?”

“The clues were too clear,” you said with a petulant tone. “It might seem like a setup, something so obvious it couldn’t be true, but you know, I’m good at crime.”

Donna laughed, giving you a soft kiss on the lips, to which Angie protested with a disgusted grunt, making you both laugh cutely as you separated.

“Mm, detective stories are fine, but I think you could start with something a little more serious,” Donna commented, standing up towards a bookshelf.

You nodded curiously, picking up the bulky book the lady handed you.

“Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dos… Do… Dostres…” you read, frowning at the author’s complicated last name.

“Fyodor Dostoyevsky,” Donna corrected in a friendly tone, to which you arched, nodding absentmindedly. “If you like crime, I think you might be interested.”

“It seems… broad,” you whispered, flipping through the old pages. “Is it funny?”

“Well, depending on how you look at it,” Donna said, with an elegant smile. “It goes deep into the thoughts of a man who wants to commit murder, his conscience, his fears…”

“Oh,” you said disinterestedly, frowning. “But there are unsolved crimes?”

“Read it, it's worth it,” your girlfriend told you, patting you on the shoulder. “I think I'll be a little more boring,” she murmured amused, picking up another book and walking towards the entrance. “I'll put on some music, taking advantage of the fact that my future wife has fixed the record player…”

“I love you,” you whispered confidently, blowing her a kiss in the air.

The atmosphere was calm. Classical music was playing to give even more serenity to the room, but that didn't necessarily have to be a good thing. As you read that complicated book, accompanied by the soft chords of Donna's favorite music, your eyelids seemed affected by gravity.

Yes, you liked detective novels, and you were downright good at guessing the culprit before they revealed themselves, but the book Donna gave you was much more complicated than that and the words jumbled around in your brain.

You liked reading, of course, but you liked to something much lighter, not something that was undoubtedly, inducing you to sleep.

“(Y/N),” Donna said, nudging you slightly. “Are you falling asleep?”

“What?” you asked with a hoarse voice giving away the correct answer, settling down on the couch “No, no, it's... interesting.”

“Honey, your eyes are closing,” she said amused while you maintained a proud pose. “You don't like the book?”

“Oh, yes, yes, it's very entertaining,” you lied, feeling a familiar pang in your chest, an embarrassed blush appearing on your cheeks.

It wasn't the first time it happened. Donna Beneviento, contrary to what was often said in the village, wasn’t just a madwoman. She was a terribly cultured and intelligent woman, and you loved that about her.

But sometimes, just sometimes, you felt that her intelligence was far superior to yours, that somehow, you were a little more… normal. Of course, you ignored all these senseless paranoia, but, from time to time, they came back to haunt you.

You didn't want to seem like an uncultured girl, or uninterested in complicated subjects like art, history or philosophy. You had long since begun to pretend that you weren't so bored by a complicated reading or the soft melody of a work composed centuries ago.

 You didn't know what Donna would think if she knew that all of that made you sleepy, you didn't want her to think that you were inferior to her, in any way.

“It's this music, it's making me sleepy,” you said yawning and looking for an excuse for your sudden sleep.

“Oh, I thought you liked classical music,” Donna said, looking at you curiously.

“Yes, and I like it…” you lied, getting up from the couch to clear your head. “But I'd prefer something more… lively.”

“Okay,” Donna nodded, getting up to the record player and stopping that soporific melody. “What do you want?”

“Oh, no, no, no not on that old thing,” you said amused, walking towards an old music player you bought from the Duke and that you fixed yourself. “Now it's my turn.”

“Um, (Y/N)…” the lady said, playing with her hands while you manipulated your record collection.

“Let's see, let's see…” you murmured, feeling Angie climbing up your body.

“This one, this one!” the doll squealed, pointing to one of your favorite records.

“Isn't it a bit old?” you asked with the box in your hand. “Well, it could be considered classical music, don't you think, honey?” you said to the lady, handing her the CD, as she looked at it curiously.

“Spi… Spice…” the lady murmured, looking at the cover.

“Spice Girls, honey, a classic,” you corrected with a smug smile. “This sure lifts my spirits.”

“A classic? It says here that it's from 1996,” Donna protested, frowning as you snatched the box from her, putting the CD in the player. “You could say that it was just yesterday, (Y/N).”

“It's been over 20 years, Donna, so it's classical music,” you joked again, pressing the button. “Hey, Angie, I think you know the first song…”

“Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want!” Angie sang as the music started playing, jumping up and down on the floor.

“So tell me what you want, what you really, really want,” you continued, high-fiving the doll, the only one who seemed happy with your choice.

Donna stood with a frown, gently lowering the volume on the player as you sat back down on the couch.

“Ah, much better,” you commented, picking up the book again and looking at the lady over it. “Hey, honey, aren’t you coming?”

“How can you read with this music? It’s impossible,” she said in a slightly childish tone.  “Cos’è questo?”

“Music, dolcezza,” you said ironically, shaking your head. “I would have liked to play something more recent, but lately the Duke is short of contraband material.”

“No wonder. This is horrible, they don't even know how to sing,” the lady said, crossing her arms as the music seemed to destroy her ears.

“Donna…” you sighed, rolling your eyes and moving a leg to the rhythm of the music. “Stop complaining and come here.”

“You can't even dance to this,” she protested again, approaching you and glancing sideways at the stereo. “Is this really music?”

“Angie knows how to dance to it,” you said amused, pointing at the doll with your head, a doll that moved to the rhythm of that catchy song.

“Mm,” Donna murmured, letting you sit her down with a quick movement. “No, I can't.”

“Donna, stop fooling around,” you said with a hiss, shaking your head. “You always choose the music.”

“Forgive me for preferring a soft melody with perfectly ordered chords and notes to the screamers of hell,” she protested, getting up again. “This has nothing to do with the true meaning of music. It’s not elegant, they just seem like stupid brainless girls.”

“Maybe they are, but it's cool,” you said distractedly, scratching your hair to try to concentrate on the heavy reading. “Hey, where are you going?”

“To the basement, it's impossible to concentrate here,” the lady explained, disappearing among murmurs in Italian that you initially didn't give importance to.

“As you wish,” you sighed, glancing sideways at the player.

Naturally, Lady Beneviento and you came from very different times. Education, culture, everything was distant, but normally your two worlds coexisted in harmony, like those melodies she liked so much.

However, since you got engaged, you tried to take better care of those kinds of details. You knew Donna loved you. She was the one who wanted to take you as her wife so she would never lose you, but sometimes you wondered if she really bothered to really get to know you.

You didn't know what to do, whether to give in, show yourself as you really were, or pretend a little more. The idea that Donna saw that you were nothing but an ordinary girl with ordinary tastes was disturbing. She was intelligent, complicated, cultured, and you were just a country girl who enjoyed the little things in life, who didn't even bother to wonder about the origin of her existence.

You felt somewhat insecure as the days went by, unable to get along with her refined tastes, with the readings that she was passionate about. Of course none of that seemed like a problem, and maybe you were giving it much more importance than it had, but the expression of weariness, of discomfort with your simple tastes made you see you were wrong.

Donna was a wonderful woman and you were just a simple village girl, would she really still love you when she realized you weren't as cultured as she was?

The question terrified you; it made you stay up at night, it made you change, it made you carefully pretend that you were starting to be interested in such boring things. Being who you weren't wasn’t your favorite way to deal with the problem, but, with a month to go before the wedding your nerves made you make impulsive decisions.

You wanted to make her see that you were just like her, that everything she liked was also your passion. It really was hard, but you managed to fool her for a while, thinking that maybe that way, you would never disappoint her.

How ironic, you were trying to make the lady in black, the disturbed Donna Beneviento, the same one who feared so terribly to lose you, not to leave you.

“What are you doing, tesoro?” the lady asked when she finished with her dolls, finding an almost comical scene in front of her.

“Reading,” you said amused, holding the heavy book while letting the lady kiss your forehead affectionately. “Oh, and you were right, that music of yours is much more relaxing,” you commented satisfied, with the classical chords in the background.

“Mm, well,” Donna said, nodding, resting her head on your shoulder. “What do you think of the book?”

“It's good,” you answered with a fake smile, full of the wisdom you obviously lacked.

“I'm glad,” she sighed, frowning and picking up a cup that was on the table. “Did you drink a whole cup of coffee?”

“Yes, I needed to cheer myself up,” you said, downplaying that slight caffeine overdose. “Maybe I went a little too far.”

“The coffee pot was empty, did you drink it all?” Donna asked, taking your shaking hands. “(Y/N), so much coffee is not good for you.”

“Do you know what's not good?” you asked, closing the book and sensually climbing up the lady's body, with a seductive purr. “Having you so close to me, making my heart beat wildly...”

“That's because of the coffee,” she joked, caressing your legs, which rested on either side of her hips. “Mm, tesoro...”

“Shh, Angie's not here,” you murmured, biting her earlobe. “How about having fun?”

“Sounds good to me,” the brunette sighed, giving herself to your eager lips, moving your body with hers in an erotic dance, anticipating a pleasant afternoon of passion.

“Make me yours, my wife,” you whispered, slowly unbuttoning her dress, abruptly interrupted by the agonizing ringing of the phone. “Oh, it just can't be…”

“Don't pay attention,” Donna said, laughing amused, caught by your desire to love, by the desire to make you hers like only she knew how. “It will stop ringing soon… “

“No, I…” you said, getting off her body with a look of resignation. “You should pick it up, maybe it's Mother Miranda. Don't worry, I'll be waiting.”

Donna nodded, kissing you quickly and getting up with a nervous gasp, taking the phone while you seduced her by getting comfortable on the sofa and biting your lower lip.

“Pronto,” the lady sighed. “Oh, Alcina… yes, well, actually… Oh, well I don’t… Yes, I think it’s a good idea… sure, of course she’ll come, see you later, ciao…”

“Mm?” you murmured with some disappointment when you saw Donna turning back to you while fastening the buttons again. “Alcina?”

“Yes…” she sighed, also frustrated. “She says she wants us to go to the castle for tea.”

“Have you said yes? Donna… I wanted to make love,” you protested, pouting. “Come on, if we hurry we can…”

“Alcina says she has something for us, you know, for the wedding, it’s not right to reject her kindness,” the lady explained, shaking her head. “It’ll just be tea, tesoro, we won’t be long.”

“Well, okay,” you said, defeated. “You are always so polite…”

“I wouldn't want to disappoint the only family I have left,” Donna commented, with a sad tone. “I'm going to get the veil, oh and… get dressed,” she whispered amused, pointing at the underwear that you yourself pulled down to make her more nervous. “You will make me lose my mind.”

“Mm,” you murmured, stealing a seductive kiss from her. “You owe me one, my wife…”

Of course, the best thing about the trips to the castle was the journey itself. Angie made fun of you as you walked hand in hand through the forest, in silence, enjoying the contact of your skin, the tranquility of a life that would only get better.

Alcina Dimitrescu was the eldest of the Lords, and her attitude and behavior were even more refined than the lady in black’s. Her seductive voice, her glances and the conversations that always traveled between art and wine weren’t your perfect plan to spend an afternoon like that, but you couldn't complain, you knew that Donna cared about her.

“Here it is, my dears... it really is hard for me to part with this jewel, but I feel calm knowing that you and your future wife will have it,” the lady of the castle said, pointing to a small painting.

“Wow... it's impressive,” the Angie doll said, shyly approaching the painting. “Picasso?”

“Picasso,” Alcina answered as Donna tilted her head to better observe it. “It's one of my favorite pieces. You know that during the second world war the looting of works of art was pretty common. Poor stupid soldiers, they thought that this place would be ideal to hide it…”

“Was it from some soldiers?” you asked, trying to make sense of that work of art that seemed to fascinate your fiancée. “Wow, I'm sure it's a mind-blowing story.”

“Mm, the story of how it got here is unimportant, dear. Don't you know what you have in front of you?” the lady in white asked, running a hand over your shoulders. “It's real art.”

“Yes, well,” you said with a frown, confused. “To me it looks like some badly done doodles,” you commented by mistake, making the tall woman gasp with irony.

“Doodles?” Alcina asked, while Donna controlled the doll's impulses to touch the painting. “How can you say that?”

“It's what I see,” you murmured, trying to make sense of those messy figures. “Is this really art?”

“Donna, dear,” Alcina said, ignoring your comment and drawing the doll maker's attention. “Your fiancée doesn't seem pleased by my gift.”

“Perché?” your girlfriend whispered, approaching you. “Don’t you like it?”

“Like isn't exactly the word,” you commented, getting a little closer to the painting. “Was that Picasso guy really that important?”

“Well… he really was,” Donna murmured, looking at you and then at the doodles. “It's abstract art, (Y/N), it doesn't have to make sense.”

“Oh,” you said, nodding. “Well, I guess it's okay…”

“But dear, don't you know anything?” Alcina asked, coming closer again. “I see that your knowledge of art is not at all exhaustive.”

“The truth is that I’m not very interested in art,” you confessed with a shy smile. “I don’t understand it and…”

“That’s obvious,” Alcina joked, laughing sinisterly. “Well, it’s not that important, I’m convinced that you have other… virtues.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, a little annoyed by the comment, nervous.

“Oh, nothing, little bird, I’m just saying that Donna has surely seen other things in you,” the lady said, looking at you with bright eyes and a mocking smile. “Mm, I can imagine what kind of things, my dear.”

“Hey, Alcina!” Angie protested. “Stop flirting with my Donna's fiancée.”

“Please…” the lady in white sighed, making Donna suddenly tense up, starting to suffer another attack of jealousy. “She may be beautiful but… well, beauty isn't everything.”

“Um, yes, we better go,” the lady in black said, uncomfortable, just like you, who lowered your head, starting to think about your insecurities again. “We're taking the painting.”

“Oh, no, no, dear,” said Alcina, looking at you out of the corner of her eye with a regretful expression, surely noticing your sadness. “Mother Miranda told me that there are some loose lycans around, it will be better if I send it to your house when that uncomfortable matter is solved.”

“Va bene,” your girlfriend nodded, taking your hand and observing you cautiously. “(Y/N), tutto bene?”

“Um, yes, yes I… I would like to go home,” you said with a broken voice, with your bad thoughts eclipsing your reasoning.

“Of course, um… Thank you Alcina,” Donna said, pulling your hand towards the exit of the castle.

“Little bird…” the vampire interrupted. “I hope I haven't offended you.”

You didn't answer. You looked away and continued walking. There was no more laughter, no more holding hands on the way back.

Your ignorance was something you always tried to hide, something that was natural to you and that seemed to be of no importance to Donna, but after that unpleasant visit to the castle, everything in your mind changed.

Donna Beneviento was a cultured, intelligent woman, passionate about art, and you were a simple villager, a lover of crime novels, short stories that were easy to read. You weren't on her level, no matter how much you tried to pretend otherwise.

As you walked home, you thought about the near future, about what your life would be like after marriage. You loved Donna, you loved her just the way she was, you loved her mind, her intelligence… but she… what was it that she loved about you?

You weren't sure of the answer and your nerves began to tense. You could pretend for a year, two, but no more. You weren't the intelligent and cultured girl that Donna deserved, you were simply nothing compared to her; you had nothing to offer her.

“I'll make dinner, tesoro,” the lady commented when you were back home, taking off her veil with a tender smile. “Hey, amore mio, what's wrong?”

“Donna, I…” you murmured with a sad sigh. “What did you see in me?”

“Cosa? What's that question about?” she asked, frowning. “Oh, you didn't take what my sister said seriously, did you?”

“How can you expect me not to take it seriously? She's right, I'm stupid,” you growled, clenching your fists. “Donna, stop pretending.”

“Pretend? Um, tesoro, I don't know what you're talking about... I told you not to drink so much coffee,” the lady said worriedly, cupping your face in her hands.

You pulled away with a furious gasp, shaking your head.

“It's not the coffee!” you screamed, releasing a pressure in your chest that was already unbearable. “It's not about that Donna, it's about me, about us.”

“(Y/N), you're scaring me...” she sighed, grabbing you by the shoulders. “Calm down, please.”

“No Donna, I'm not calming down... Why? Huh? Why me? Are you so desperate that you'll settle for any stupid girl who's capable of having children? Is that what you want from me? Then what, huh? You'll kick me out of your life because I'm not what you're looking for…”

“You're delirious, I don't know what's wrong with you,” Donna said, very nervous, shaking her head. “Why do you say such horrible things?”

“They're not horrible things, it's reality,” you hissed, pointing at your fiancée in an unpleasant way. “Donna, I hate classical music, Crime and Punishment is a boring book and I have no interest in art…”

“(Y/N), but,” she interrupted, desperate to get you to come back to your senses. “Tesoro…”

“Disappointed? I assumed so…” you whispered with a dark look while Donna was speechless, just shaking her head. “This is me, a stupid and ignorant girl who gets bored with everything you like.”

“That's not bad at all. I don't…” she said, with a marked accent that betrayed her nervousness. “…I don't care about that.”

“You say that now, but…” you said, laughing nervously. “You'll realize that we're from different worlds, that I'm of no use to you and you know what? I should have realized it sooner.”

“(Y/N)…”

“No, Donna,” you said, sobbing and shaking your head. “I'm tired of pretending that I deserve to have your last name when it's not true. You're a wonderful woman, the most wonderful woman I've ever met in my life, but I'm not, I have nothing to offer you…”

“S-Stop… stop… Stop talking nonsense!” Donna shrieked, furious, unable to control her nerves. “What's this about? What have I done wrong? Why do you say those things?”

“You know I'm right,” you hissed, with a much darker voice, glancing sideways at the shiny ring that decorated your finger. “Now you love me, but soon you'll realize that you've wasted your time with me. I'm not what you deserve; I'm not what you're looking for, Donna.”

“How do you know what I'm looking for?” she asked, grabbing your arm. “Why are you torturing me!?”

“Donna, you’re hurting me,” you protested, breaking away from her grip, watching as the lady slowly lost her mind. “It doesn't make any sense for you to get like that when you know it's true.

“It's not true!” she shrieked, kicking childishly. “(Y/N), don't you dare…!”

“Shh, that's it,” you whispered with your voice broken by crying, approaching her cautiously. “Donna, this can't go on like this, I don't want to ruin your life.”

“Ruin my life? P-Please, let's talk things over, you're not thinking clearly,” Donna said, grabbing your hand again, breathing heavily.

“No, honey, no…” you whispered, caressing her hand and bringing the other to the ring, slowly taking it off your finger. “I'll never be able to think clearly.”

“What are you doing? Why…?” Donna asked, looking at the ring already off your finger, a ring you placed in the palm of her hand, closing her fist over it.

“It's okay, I know when to back off,” you sobbed, clenching her fist. “You should give this to a woman who is better than me, a smart girl like you, who deserves to wear it.”

“(Y/N), il tuo anello… put it on, per favore,” she whispered nervously, playing with the jewel, grabbing your hand tightly. “Per favore! Don't do this to me!”

“I'm sorry, darling,” you said with a sore throat, returning the ring to her hand, squeezing it tighter. “I don't deserve you, you should find someone who does.”

“No, no, wait, wait,” the lady said, pulling your wrist as you prepared to leave the mansion. “No…”

“Goodbye, Donna,” you sobbed before turning around and running to the exit, leaving the lady in black paralyzed, dropping the ring, which bounced on the floor.

“What are you doing, silly Donna!? She's leaving, do something!” Angie shrieked, pulling at her dress.

Donna didn't move, she was just sobbing in shock, motionless.

You looked at her one last time and opened the door, leaving her life forever.

“Donna, Donna! You can't let her go! Donna, react!” Angie continued, while her voice became more and more imperceptible. “The lycans, Donna, the lycans…!”

Her screams were barely whispers as you ran through the dark forest, crying panting, having made the hardest decision of your life. No, Donna didn't deserve you, she didn't deserve a brainless girl like you, you would only make her unhappy. You were completely convinced.

The tiredness made you relax your steps, panting and screaming desperately. You had lost the love of your life, and it wasn't because of something you had done, but because of who you really were. She could never love you. She could never love a stupid girl like you, even if she forced herself to do so.

A sinister roar brought your consciousness back for a moment. The place was terribly dark and you lost your bearings. Going back wasn’t an option, but you didn't know what was in front of you, which was the right way after leave the elevator.

“I'm so stupid that I don't even know where...” you lamented, walking until you collided with something hairy, with a horrible creature that made you trip.

Normally, lycans didn't roam the territories of the Lords, but you soon remembered Alcina's warning about some rebellious beasts that escaped Miranda's control.

Your arm hurt and the moisture on your clothes told you that you were bleeding, but that wasn't the worst part, the worst part was seeing how that beast raised its claws before you to tear you apart, giving a pathetic end to your pathetic life.

“Stop!” a voice behind you said, causing the beast to obey and back away in fear.

The dim light of the place illuminated the silhouette of the lady in black, who was slowly approaching, terrifying the lycan just by her mere presence.

“Fuori…” Donna hissed, making the creature whimper, forcing it to protect itself with its claws. “Get out of here!”

The lycan fled, and the lady crouched down next to you, checking your condition.

“(Y/N), parlami, per favore… where did it hurt you?” she asked, being pushed unpleasantly by you, getting up on your own.

“Donna, I'm… I'm fine,” you said, grabbing your injured arm. “I… er… thank you.”

“Amore mio, you're bleeding,” Donna said, holding your arm and taking a look at your wounds. “Come, I have to…”

“No,” you said coldly. “You don't need to take care of me, not anymore,” you said, giving in to crying again, inevitably throwing yourself into her arms. “Donna…”

“Shh, you're very nervous, tesoro, come, let's go home and… I'll heal you and…” she stammered, crying, but keeping her composure better.

Silence. That was the word that best defined that moment. While Donna healed you, you sobbed under her watchful gaze, unable to say anything, unable to stop feeling at ease in what until a while ago, was your home.

“Perché? Perché, (Y/N)?” the lady murmured, wiping the blood from your arm, looking away from you.

“Donna, I've already explained my reasons,” you murmured distractedly, not wanting to go back. “Thank you for healing me, but I'll leave as soon as you do.”

“You can't…” she sighed, closing her eye to keep calm. “You can't just leave like that, without giving me a reason. You’re breaking my heart…”

“I'm sorry, but it's for the best, I love you too much to let you waste your time on me,” you said with a broken voice, but firm in some way. “Donna I... I'm not like you. You're a cultured, intelligent woman and I... I'm just a stupid village girl who likes to listen to stupid songs and read books that could be for children. I'm not what you think.”

“But you are what I want,” she murmured, bandaging your wound delicately. “Do you really think I want a pedantic girl like my sister by my side? No, (Y/N)…”

“It's what you deserve,” you sobbed again, pulling your arm away.

“You're just talking nonsense, (Y/N), I love you just the way you are. I would never pretend to change you, I... (Y/N), tesoro, you have to believe me. I'm not looking for anything because I've already found it, I've found you…” Donna sighed, lifting your chin. “You are the love of my life, the one I want to be my wife, my family.”

“You've chosen wrong,” you said with a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “I'm just a stupid girl.”

“You're wrong, (Y/N),” the lady hissed, darkening her gaze. “Do you think a person's intelligence is measured by their knowledge of art or literature? No, tesoro…”

“Well, but…”

“No, now you're going to listen to me. You're not stupid. Just, just look at everything you've done during all this time. I would never have been able to fix the record player, or the projector… (Y/N), you bought the Duke a broken device and fixed it, you made it work again as it were magic…”

“Not that…”

“Taci,” she interrupted, with a brusque tone, cupping your face in her hands. “You are capable of much more than you think, of things that I would never be capable of, never… You say you are stupid for not knowing anything about art, for considering a complicated book boring, but that’s not true.”

“Donna, I…” you tried to say, silenced by a finger on your lips.

“Amore mio, you are intelligent, much more than me in many ways. You are funny, decisive and have an amazing capacity for deduction, or do you forget that you never finish any of your detective stories?”

“Well, that’s because…” you explained somewhat confused, relaxing the demons that were hovering in your mind.

“Because you know the ending before reading it. That is intelligent, tesoro, those are your abilities, just because they are not the same as mine doesn’t mean they are insignificant,” she said, with a desperate smile, trying to make you reason, starting to achieve it. “I fell in love with you just the way you are, I love you just the way you are…”

“But Donna, I…” you protested unsurely, beginning to give in to her pleasant words. “I don't think that… that I can contribute anything, I…”

“(Y/N), you are the missing part of my boring existence, you are that joy that lights up my life. Please, don't abandon me because without you… without you, art would cease to be…”

“That's very nice,” you said while blushing, letting be guided by her hand until her lips rested on yours with a soft and salty kiss, an intense, deep love kiss…

“Hey, hey, hey!” interrupted Angie, comically separating you by giving something to Donna, something that made her look at you sadly. “You dropped this, silly Donna, why don't you put it back in its place?”

She sighed, looking at the ring Angie gave her and gently grabbing your hand.

“(Y/N), sposami…” she asked in a soft voice. “Don't leave me alone, don't let me get lost without you because… because without you I'm nothing…”

“Donna…” you said, letting the ring slide back down your finger, starting to get rid of the bad thoughts in your mind, realizing that deep down you knew she was right, that intelligence wasn't measured by tastes, but by many other things.

“Donna, I love you… of course I'll marry you…”

[isabelawritesthings]

Mortal Kombat 1 dialogues with Loki reader

characters included: Liu Kang, Raiden, Johnny Cage and Shang Tsung

notes: The dialogues will be with both the male and female versions of Loki, and since Loki is a canonically gender fluid bisexual character, there will be flirting in both forms.

a/n: Loki and women are my new obsession, maybe I'll do more dialogues with Marvel or even DC characters.

Liu Kang

MALE VERSION –

Liu Kang: You're causing a mess in the timelines!

Reader: What? Is it so wrong to travel through the multiverse?

-

Reader: Are you as powerful as He Who Remains?

Liu Kang: Who is this, Loki Laufeyson?

-

Reader: Do I remind you of a sorcerer?

Liu Kang: Unfortunately, yes.

-

Liu Kang: Make peace with Thor.

Reader: Why? Isn't it enough to live in his shadow all my life?!

-

FEMALE VERSION

Reader: You're quite handsome for a Fire God.

Liu Kang: Focus, Loki (Sylvie).

-

Liu Kang: You need to stop with the time travel!

Reader: Why? Are you afraid I'll break your perfect timeline?

-

Liu Kang: Shang Tsung is seduced by you.

Reader: Tell him I won't be a concubine!

-

Reader: Does Johnny Cage know there is a difference between flirting and sexual harassment?

Liu Kang: I'll talk to him later.

Raiden

MALE READER –

Raiden: Does your brother have lightning powers too?

Reader: Believe me, creating illusions is more impressive!

-

Raiden: Have you allied yourself with the sorcerers?

Reader: Come on, Raiden, you know I'm greedy.

-

Reader: Is your amulet your mjonir?

Raiden: What is a mjonir?

-

Reader: Come back to Fengjian, farmer boy!

Raiden: Not while you're out there causing chaos!

-

FEMALE READER –

Raiden: Is Shang Tsung jealous of me?

Reader: He thinks you're my boyfriend or something like that.

-

Raiden: How many gods are there in Asgard?

Reader: Our pantheon is as numerous as the stars in the sky.

-

Reader: What does Hela want with you?

Raiden: I don't know, but I hope it's nothing bad.

-

Reader: Very handsome for a shaolin

Raiden: This isn't going to... Wait, are you flirting with me?

Johnny Cage

MALE READER –

Johnny: Thor is more badass!

Reader: And why should I listen to the opinion of a mediocre actor like you?!

-

Johnny: That Sylvie has no right to be so hot!

Reader: You know she's technically me, right?

-

Reader: You're a womanizer, right? Have you ever tried something different?

Johnny: Look, I respect people with different tastes, but that's definitely not my case.

-

Reader: I also had problems with my father.

Johnny: This isn't going to make me sympathize with you, superhero movie villain!

-

FEMALE READER –

Johnny: Are you sure Hela is the goddess of death? Because you can kill with this look!

Reader: It's not too hard to see why your wife left you!

-

Johnny: I bet Asgard doesn't have gods as beautiful as me.

Reader: Please, have you seen my brother?

-

Reader: Who is this Madam Bo?

Johnny: You would have to go to Fengjian one day to know, do you like Chinese food?

-

Reader: I think Liu Kang is mad at me.

Johnny: Of course! You and your variants have wreaked havoc on the timelines!

-

Shang Tsung

MALE READER –

Shang Tsung: We could both benefit from an alliance.

Reader: HA! I am a God! I make no alliances with mortals who came from poverty!

-

Shang Tsung: *laughs* shall we start, God of lies?

Reader: As you wish, sorcerer...

-

Reader: I invaded Earth once, it will be easy to dominate Outworld!

Shang Tsung: Good luck facing Liu Kang and Mileena's forces!

-

Reader: You are as evil as I am.

Shang Tsung: Correct statement, Loki.

-

FEMALE READER –

Shang Tsung: Think, Loki (Sylvie)! You could-

Reader: Be your consort? May Odin protect me from this cruel fate!

-

Shang Tsung: Your body, so beautiful I could-

Reader: Ewww... Keep your perverted thoughts to yourself, sorcerer!

-

Reader: What did you see in me?

Shang Tsung: Power, beauty and cunning... Everything I admire in a woman.

-

Reader: You took advantage of Sindel's desperation to manipulate her!

Shang Tsung: *laughs* and the idiot fell right into my plan!

-

[solidaritygaming-fanblog]

right. So I'm kinda insane and found another song to talk about in some life series / evo context: Copycat. (Song will be linked at the end of the post!)

So, many people headcanon Jimmy and Grian being brothers- and it makes a lot of sense. They're both dirty brown haired, have dark brown eyes, are British, bird coded, have warring personalities, and actually are associated both with yellow, and then one other primary color- Grian taking red, and Jimmy taking blue. Even their main colorations show a kind of "parallel difference" between them, with recently, Grian being associated with red and purple, and Jimmy with blue and yellow.

Now. Recently Jimmy did some lore of him praying to the Watchers. And back in Evo, Grian was taken into the Watchers ranks- so there is some repeated or rhyming elements in their arcs. However, I raise you this- Jimmy is Grian's "replacement", or basically, a backup for if he defects from the Watchers. That's why he has such a deference to them- its hard coded into him. That's why he's acknowledged them so much recently, because Grian's slowly leaving, and they're beginning to get Jimmy to replace him.

For a long time, those two have had a sibling dyanmic- Grian, the older, stronger, and smarter brother, and Jimmy, the younger, weaker, stupider sibling. Grian basically torments Jimmy for his own amusement, and the Watchers let it happen- if Grian ever defected, they could simply feed Jimmy praise -you're better than Grian ever could have been, hes weak and you're incredibly strong, of course we will listen to you- and he would instantly be completely loyal to them.

The song has a few choice lyrics I'd like to point out:

"We get along just fine!" "I say everything you like to hear..." "It's funny how much I feel like I'm looking in a mirror!"

Say "Hello! What's up with you?" "I'm starting to talk like you do..."

"We've grown apart this time, I can't figure out the reason why." "It's funny how much I'd kinda like to see you cry."

"I've become what you like! I am what you wanted, right? Sacrificed all that I know, I have taught myself to let go!"

In any case, the main motif of the song is losing your identity- and that's exactly what's happening to Jimmy, memories of servers being scrubbed as the Watchers prepare him to take over Grian's position. The whole chorus is Jimmy giving in to the Watchers, and thinking about Grian in anger- he pushed him too far, yes, of course- the perfect way to get back at him, to team up with the eldritch gods Grian hates. Grian said he should be stronger- well now look at him! He's one of the strongest beings alive! He is now what his brother wanted him to be, perfectly made in his image.

Oh, and in case you need further convincing, look at how Grian's wings are usually portrayed. Scarlet macaw- red, blue, and yellow. Now look at Jimmy's wings- nearly always yellow, but in Wild Life, he's become a parrot. His wings are blue and yellow now. I bet he sometimes sees little red feathers and rips them out, desperate to distance himself from Grian- unfortunately, his brother.

Meanwhile, Grian doesn't know what's up with his little brother, and is desperately trying to get him back, to prevent him from making the same bad decisions he did- maybe even losing some of his Watcher powers as Jimmy's power begins to eclipse his own.

Link+ a lil more below the cut. This post is too long already. Whoops

Okay I can perfectly see in the "Copy that copy cat!" bit in the chorus, different sprites show up with every beat. The first four are of Grian (followed by a short animation of him saying the line) hitting poses, with maybe each sprite having a little refrence to a different season or series they have been in together. And then it swaps to Jimmy, facing towards him, hitting the same poses, with matching refrences. However by the end of the song, Jimmy takes charge, doing the poses first and surrounded by eyes- and Grian, trying (and failing) to match the poses and control the eyes, confused why he's lost his power.

Give my boy Jimmy the power. Grian has tormented him far too long.

[purplesaline]

If you think that knowing the punchline of one joke in one episode ruins the entire podcast you're definitely missing the point of the podcast.

The joked like above? They're fun, sure, but they're secondary to the point of the podcast which is the byplay between the two characters/hosts and it's the little lessons about how they're surviving their World Gone Wrong that we can use in our own world gone wrong and make it a little bit better, even if it's just for a couple of people.

But let's be real, I don't think that actually matters to you because I don't think you even care about the fact the little joke for this one episode of this podcast was spoiled. You just wanted something to spark about. See, I've read your reblogs and tags on those posts you've interacted with on my dash and I've noticed this seems to be a pattern with you. You like to shit on things. You like to sit on a high horse and look down on others when they do things differently than the way you think they should be done. You have a very rigid view of how things should be and anyone outside of that seems to be a target of your derision.

And you do you, I guess, but in my experience that makes for a rather lonely sort of life, even when you have plenty of friends. That sort of antagonistic approach to the world certainly left me with a hollow, cold space inside at least. Thankfully it went away when I started being less rigid and judgemental and the world became an even more wonderful place to be.

Take a lesson from that if you want, or not, it doesn't matter to me either way.

What does matter to me, though, is playing any part in someone dimming the light of another person sharing their joy. What you do and the way you act is up to you, but for me that's a boundary I'm very careful about enforcing. Be as snarky as you want on other sorts of posts, but if I see you being an ass on a post I've reblogged where someone is sharing something they enjoy I'm going to soft block you. I won't enable that sort of thing when we need every lumen of joy we can find to survive the years ahead.

For anyone who actually is interested in listening to the podcast, definitely check it out. Knowing this little joke won't spoil the episode, let alone the entire podcast, I promise. It's a bright spot of that joy so many of us are desperate for.

World Gone Wrong is a hilarious and great podcast and i've been meaning on making a proper rec post as for why people should listen. but honestly it's near midnight and i'm just giggling to myself about the gag how one episode is just about how the world has been covered by mysterious restaurants serving mysterious food items that no one seems capable of fully naming, with these food items slowly being found to have infiltrated the menus and freezers of restaurants, institutions, and homes all across the world

and gradually

as it gets explained piece by piece

you realise

it's pizza

leaving you with the realisation that either: a) the entire world forgot about the existence of pizza and was made incapable of perceiving the word "pizza" and is now thinks it's an eldritch foodstuff from beyond mortal ken

b) this world legit didn't have pizza but the universe manifested it, presumably as an apology for all the lycanthropy and fae and alien bodysnatchers and shit

[just-your-average-author]

TIT RECAP/THOUGHTS

SPOILERS OBV

Okay so firstly the open PSA that Dan wrote about "no photos or videos if you do, I will sue your ass to the ground" and "no flash photography do you want Phil to fall off the stage...again?!?!?" killed me. it was so cute

preshow playlist, stunning, beautiful all around bops.

the sudden cut off of the music and lights to signal the show started, genuinely shocked and I was SAT let me tell you.

THEY CAME OUT AND THEY WERE REAL?!? NOT A SIMULATION?? listen I still can't get over that, I can't believe they were real people who look and sound exactly like they do on my tv at home!! I was so focused on them and soaking every moment in, I couldn't handle it

have I mentioned how attractive they are?!?!?

okay also literally Phil straight up STOPPED THE SHOW BECAUSE HE HAD TO SNEEZE AND DAN JUST STARED AND WAS LIKE PHIL WTF and I loved every second I was like yes this is straight up what they do in videos, let's have our little squirrel moment babes.

plus it made it feel even more silly and improv, overall I know obv they scripted a lot but it was sooo interactive and they ad libbed so much and I adored it

the dollhouse recap i swear wtf. first off, it was such a creative and fun idea and the different sets, and dressed up dolls that the clothes matched!! also okay I'm so sorry I had no idea the random sex positions would be a theme of the show so I was gobsmacked, but the 69ing during pinof??? "so we did what 2 closeted twinks did upon meeting each other for the first time.... put sharpie's cat whiskers on!!!" shut up for the love.

I genuinely loved the role model or no-el model segment. my show was in NC so they first option for Dan as the Mr. Lawyer was he bans ___ and someone said south carolina and they both just were rendered speechless and were like damn oh dear but laughing too.

The boxing match was so hot dear heavens, Dan's expression when Phil came out in the fake- *cough* I mean very real abs. He was acting for his LIFE.

the confessions were so good, just wish it lasted a little longer. the yapping was good and also idk if this was standardized but the whole thing where Phil said "I have a cute but also sociopathic thing going on and I think it's working for me 😌" like shut up you're so adorable

omg the quick change where they kept their mics on and narrated so many innuendos I was dying omg so silly and so funny I loved it. I was really impressed with how fast they changed, but also talked the whole time.

I loved every single solitary part of this show and I loved how they joked about how they were sorry we all went to school with whiskers then got out in the trash (cause yeah basically) and how they literally did raise us and should be blamed for us being feral not our actual legal guardians.

okay so. this show 9/10. here's where the last 1 point went.

please don't kill me, but I wasn't a fan of the song. I'm not entirely sure what it was, but the whole show was so raw and perfect and then the song was just really synthetic and overly autotuned where I personally didn't even hear their voices. like I couldn't tell who was singing which part. the ukulele part was cute, and I really hoped that would've been all of it, I guess the internet is here and interactive introverts and everything's fine just was so good you couldn't raise the bar again, but that was just my personal opinion, I know a lot of people loved the song and it was catchy and cute, I'm just not personally a fan of kpop/synthesized music so I was a little disappointed in the song but the dancing slapped so hard.

Dan flawlessly executing every move and strut and making eye contact with us while Phil very intentionally was focused on not tripping or walking off the stage and looking at Dan a few times to check if he was doing it right MY HEART.

cuties, gay, both of them, love them

overall I spent last night frantically calculating if I could afford to spontaneously go see the Nashville show as well and spend another 10 hours in the car today but regretfully thought against it.

[cherry-smokes]

Winnebago

You and Steve are desperately pining over each other, all it takes is a near death experience and some eavesdropping to finally do something about it before it's too late. Steve Harrington x reader hurt/comfort Warnings: talks of blood, yearning and also this is my first blurb so proceed with caution.

Gruesome. Gnarly. Wrong. Just so wrong. Words flash through your mind, harsh and biting unlike your gentle hands as you tend to his wounds. It’s just not fair.

Steve, the most gentle man you know, shouldn’t have been torn to shreds by those things. You swear you could see the light flowing out of him along with his blood as you wrapped whatever shred of clothing it was that Nancy handed you around his waist.

You figure you should thank her for that. For her help. For granting you all the god given gift that is her mind. You swear you would if you could bear to look at her without feeling sick. It feels so ridiculous to be caught up with unrequited love in times like these. You've never felt more like a teenage girl in your life. When you aren't worried about keeping the gaggle of children you've essentially adopted at this point alive you're worried about Steve being dragged into what you can only consider the pits of hell. It's never ending. First it's the tunnels, then the Russians and now the fucking bats. He doesn't deserve that, he deserves the Winnebago.

The six kids, all probably with the same head of hair and freckles that mirror his. Warm soft eyes, that killer smile. You shouldn't have eavesdropped on his conversation with Nancy, you know that. As you cradled Max's head on your shoulder, ignoring the way her headphones dug into the bone there, you couldn't help but tune out Kate Bush and listen to what they said.

"Except for the six kids part- that sounds like...a total nightmare"

"If only I had some practice"

"I'm sure...it would be easier with some help."

Too caught up in trying to figure out if the sharp stinging pain you felt was coming from your stomach, chest or throat, you missed the way Steve glanced at you through the rear view mirror.

You miss the way he looks at you now. The RV is empty, everyone has retreated outside to prepare themselves for battle. Children all forced into a colosseum of horrors they should have never had to endure. For a moment, he doesn't think about that. He thinks about you. Your gentle hands. You've always been that way with him. He fears every day that he takes it for granted. He wasn't used to gentleness. Not from his father, not from his peers, not even from Nancy.

He looks at your hands, bloody and cracked. He thinks it's unfair. It's cruel that those hands that have only ever given out care and provided warmth have to be exposed to anything other than that. He thinks he would reach into the sun, melt his hands to the bone if it meant he could give you an ounce of its warmth.

"How is that, is it too tight?"

You gently lay your hands around the bandages you've wrapped around him as you ask the question, avoiding his gaze.

Steve shakes his head, soft strands of hair falling onto his face.

"No...that's good. It's a lot better than before, thank you"

He looks at your face as you start picking up the remnants of your care. Bloodied gauze pads you struggle to keep in your hands as they shake. He can't help but reach out for them.

"Hey, what is it-what's wrong?"

You finally look at him. His heart aches a terrible thing as he sees the glassy look in your eyes.

Your voice is soft, if he wasn't so close he probably wouldn't even hear you as you whisper.

"You scared me so bad."

You sound like a child when you say it. Unable to find more complex words to describe how you felt when all you could hear as you ran to him was screaming. When you saw him overwhelmed by those viscous, ravenous creatures.

Steve's hands move desperately to your face. Trying to wipe any ounce of distress away from it like he can't bear to see you look so sad a second longer.

"I know-I know I'm sorry. I'm okay, I'm here right?"

"I just-" Your words get caught in your throat. They come out thick with emotion and Steve's brows furrow together like his in pain. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the way it makes your chest shake.

"I have this horrible feeling...that we aren't going to be as lucky this time"

"Don't- Don't say that."

Your hands reach up to cradle his own on your face. You try to burn the feeling of him into your memory. Just in case this is the last time you'll be able to feel them. Just in case you're about to ruin everything. You pull his hands away and hold them out in front of you, taking his face in. Bloody, grimy and bruised yet he looks just as beautiful as he always does.

"I heard what you said to Nancy earlier."

His heart sinks a little bit. He isn't sure why. He can't tell if he's embarrassed that you heard it, that you might think it's some stupid pipe dream you would never want any part of. Worse, he thinks about you wanting that. Wanting it with him, and something horrible happening that would tear that possibility away.

"Oh."

"I think if anyone deserves that Winnebago, the road trip...the family. I think it's you. Anyone would be lucky to get that with you."

There's that warmth again. Spreading across his chest and up to his cheeks as he flushes. He opens his mouth, he begs his brain to come up with anything to say but he can't. Not when the sun is setting behind you and he swears the way the light shines into the RV makes you look like an angel.

"I know...that you want that with someone. And I'm so sorry if this just ruins everything and you can't ever look at me the same after this but...I don't want to die-"

"I'm not going to let that happen-"

He doesn't just mean something happening to you. He wouldn't let anything ruin you two. Steve thinks he would wallow in pain and misery forever as long as he got to keep you. He wishes he had words to explain that to you, wishes he had been better in English so he could formulate poems and novels about how he feels about you.

"What if we can't stop it? I wouldn't be at peace if you didn't know. If something happens to me-and if there is a 'better place' out there...I hope I wake up in a Winnebago. On the shore somewhere sunny and warm. I hope you're there...and I hope you're surrounded by kids that look just like us."

He grabs desperately at your face. One of his hands reaching up to brush your hair out of your face.

"Why can't we have that in this life?"

You swear you can hear your heart pounding in your ears. You can feel the blood rushing through your veins and even so close to the possibility of death you've never felt more alive.

"Is that what you want?"

"Angel that's all I want"

You kiss his palms as he rests his forehead against yours. You pray to whatever force is out there that you have done enough good in this life to be granted a moment of peace in the sun when this is all over.

[hotasfahrenheit]

i keep starting posts then discarding them about how i think Jack's not actually mad at Joke, he's mad at himself, but not knowing how to write about it and put my thoughts into shape but i'm gonna try, again.

like the reason Jack can justify working with Save and Hope, with forgiving everyone but Joke, is because it's not Joke he's mad at, not completely. he's projecting. he's taking out his anger and frustration at himself for not seeing what was going on, not being able to be there for Toi Ting, not knowing how to prevent any of this, on Joke.

he loves Joke. but Joke is also the closest person to him, and with Joke having any kind of culpability, that's an opening to channel all of his hurt and helplessness and frustration through. he's putting it all on Joke, then pushing Joke away, because then he can also push away his own guilt and all the things he can't deal with right now in order to deal with the problems immediately in front of him.

is it shitty? yeah. but it's also understandable. it's how people react when faced with extreme emotional distress, extreme situations, tragedy. would he be better off with Joke there to help him through what he's going through, help him deal with Boss, etc, than he is without him? absolutely yes, but he's not thinking that far, clearly. he's thinking in the moment, and in the moment, if he puts all the blame on Joke then he can stop himself from wallowing in the truth and he can continue to function.

like. i'm not justifying it. and i think he should have listened to Joke, should have been willing to be forgiving, should have been supportive instead of angry and cruel. but i get it.

Jack isn't equipped to deal with what he's going through any better than the rest of them are to deal with any of this shit. his reaction is just bigger and worse right now. it IS episode 11 after all.

[tarnishedxknight]

Noah, having more or less sent Drace away with the promise that they would be attending lunch shortly, was puttering in his kitchen nook, getting some water and trying to wake himself up as he usually did. A smile tugged at his lips when he heard Larsa's half-awake comment. "Your mentors... expect you to lunch within the hour," Noah said with a firm tone but still one that was laced with humor if the person listening knew him well enough. "Drace is already on her way there. We should dress soon and make our way to the commons."

As Larsa apologized for getting disoriented, Noah turned more serious, and perhaps a bit pensive. "It is alright, young lord. It has happened to me on many an occasion as well. It will take our minds time to adjust, I'm sure." He drank the water, feeling the Mist affecting his head particularly vigorously this day. He already had the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes and at his temples, and he knew from the mere feel of it that the glow in his amber eyes would be noticeable today. Sometimes it was, sometimes it wasn't. Today, it was.

Once they were dressed, cleaned up a bit, and situated, they left Noah's quarters and made their way to the common kitchen. Drace gave a smile when she saw Noah and Larsa enter the room. "Good morning, my lord."

"We already said good morning to each other a while ago, but if you want to reinforce it- Oh, you meant the kid," Tony said by way of a joke.

Drace looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes, completely unimpressed. "You are no lord," she said flatly.

Basch and Ashe watched this conversation from afar, thus far only sipping at teacups and not having actually ventured to make themselves lunch yet. "It is mid-afternoon, not morning," Ashelia mumbled into her teacup. Basch smiled softly but said nothing. For his princess, "morning" was just before sunrise, he knew, not after the clock struck twelve. He loved how possessive of the sun and its morning light she was sometimes, as if she properly gave it the appreciation and respect it deserved and everyone else was, well, slacking off.

When Larsa addressed him as "Lord," Tony turned and threw Drace an I told you so expression. "See? He gets it," he said, before giving Larsa his attention.

Drace released a partial groan and turned back to her salad.

"You are? What ails you, little man?" Tony asked.

"Perhaps that it best discussed in private," Noah said firmly, glancing at Basch and Ashelia.

"Okay. Yeah. Sure. After lunch, I can take you down to the med bay. Great people there, you'll like them," Tony said.

Natasha came in to microwave a burrito, cordially greeting everyone present.

"Are you poaching on my burritos again?" Tony asked.

"You buy them by the crate. I think there's enough for everyone," Nat replied with a smirk as she very defiantly pressed "start" on the microwave.

"That is not the point," Tony said.

"You know the rules. You didn't write you name on 'em," Nat said unapologetically.

"Wow. You see what I put up with?" he said generally to no one in particular. But then, because he was feeling friendly, he turned to Larsa again, as Noah ushered the boy over to the cabinets and refrigerator to choose something to eat. "So, how's it feel to be reunited with your dad?"

Ashelia fumbled her teacup, spilling some of the tea onto the table. Drace choked on her salad, lifting a napkin to her lips as her eyes went wide. Basch's brow furrowed and he looked to Noah, his own eyes beginning to widen. Noah... looked at Tony murderously.

"Tony, what the hell?" Nat said, incredulous that he would just blurt something like that out.

"What?" Tony asked, truly not understanding. "It's not like they don't already know." He looked at Larsa, the boy's stunned expression saying otherwise. "Right?" He looked at Noah, seeing the rage building in the man's glowing gaze. "Right?"

"Oh, my god..." Nat mumbled disappointedly under her breath as she shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Aw, shit," Tony then said, realizing he had just made the announcement of the century, apparently. Or... of the past five millennia, rather.

"Larsa is your son?!" Ashelia blurted out. She looked at Basch, utterly blown away by this news. "That would make him your nephew!"

Basch's heart was pounding, but as much as he, too, wanted an explanation and was terribly curious in addition to shocked, he knew now was not the time. "Princess..." he whispered, trying to get her to be quiet, for now at least.

"You are... not helping, right now," Tony said, pointing at Ashelia.

"Keep your mouth shut from now on, Stark," Noah said, seething. His own heart was ready to leap from his chest. The Mist was loving this, building inside him and rendering him lightheaded.

"What he meant was... Is it not good to be back with those with whom you are familiar?" Drace tried, but unfortunately, the damage had already been done.

Larsa did not expect to be unfrozen at all, let alone in the future. When he had snuck upon Gabranth's ship set for Pharos he did it to ensure the peace would be possible. The last thing he remembered was running towards fallen Gabranth and then... Light. (Marvel AU) - tarnishedxjudgement

@tarnishedxjudgement

Noah didn't have the same abilities and resources in this time period with which to inform himself of anything and everything that was going on around him. He was in the dark, most of the time, unless directly informed of things, a condition he hated. Being at the mercy of others he neither knew nor trusted for information was not a position he usually found himself in.

It was the reason he hadn't known about Drace being found after him until she was brought one day to the training compound. Inexplicably, after executing her in his own timeline, here she was again, seemingly from another. The entire experience was wholly jarring, but not nearly as jarring as losing his only son.

So often had Noah thought of Larsa in the months following his revival in this strange time. Thoughts invaded his peace, his sleep, his ability to function, until he found himself so erratic and unhinged that he did not recognize himself anymore. Even Drace found it difficult to comfort him, and she had always been a master of that feat. There was no closure to be had, no second chances, no going back... and that knowledge was eating Noah alive from the inside out.

But once again, information had been kept from him, and yet another arrival from Ivalice to the Avengers compound was neither expected nor necessarily wanted. Would it be another Dalmascan? Gods forbid a Rozarrian. And the way the people of this time seemed to think that all Ivalicians got along and would be happy to see each other was beyond irritating to him. Nevertheless, when he was specifically summoned to greet this newcomer, Noah begrudgingly left his quarters to do so.

What he saw... stopped him dead in his tracks. Within seconds, his expression betrayed him, and within a few more, he was on his knees, his legs giving way in disbelief of the sight that lay before him. It was little Lord Larsa, looking just as he did when last Noah laid eyes on him, perfect as can be.

He knew he should say something, but words betrayed him as well as his own legs had. Instead, he merely stared, the absence of his helm serving to display to the boy all the shock, confusion, and relief at seeing him standing there. Finally, he forced out the only two words he felt he could say without falling apart.

"My lord..."

[gothamite-rambler]

"Not those photos!"

Context: Bruce Wayne and Barbara Gordon were busy discussing Barbara's pay raise in Bruce's kitchen. Why? Because Babs has earned and deserves more money!

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room, mingling with the faint scent of pastries from the bakery down the street. Barbara rested her arms on the kitchen table her expression a mix of frustration and determination as she detailed her why after working for the man for decades she needed more money. She did work a job outside of hero work, but dang a girl needs extra disposable income.

Bruce, pouring himself a cup, listened thoughtfully, occasionally nodding in acknowledgment but aware that this conversation was more about establishing boundaries than just salary figures. In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but admire her resilience, knowing that her contributions were invaluable—yet the negotiation price was a bit steep even for him.

Barbara (determined): I'm telling you, I should be making 80k annually for all the work I do—both as Oracle and your second assistant. Dick should not be making more than me!

Bruce (reasoning): He's my son. I pay all my kids well—even Damian. But not Tim.

Barbara (raising an eyebrow, smirking): Of course you’ll help the men over—

Bruce (shutting that down): Don't do that. I pay Cass the same amount as Jason.

Barbara (incredulous): Since when?!

Bruce (nonchalantly): Last year. She earned it. Babs, while I agree you deserve a pay raise, twenty thousand a month is pushing it. What would you even need that much money for?

Barbara (enthusiastically): Fun stuff! I like to live. I mean, obviously, I’m a smart woman; not all of it will be wasted every month. But sometimes, I pass by a store and see those new heels. Dang it, wheelchair-bound or not, my feet need to be wearing cute pinchy shoes! What does Dick need ten thousand for?

Bruce (rolling his eyes): Apparently, he uses it to 'keep the lights' on at the tower, treat his friends to dinner, pay for dance classes, sonic and spongebob merch... I hate those shows so much and… trips with Kori that I don’t like to think about.

Barbara (raising her voice to get her point across): Mostly frivolous garbage. Why can't I get frivolous garbage spending money?! Women want stupid things too!

Barbara pounded her fist on the table for emphasis, while Bruce sighed and closed his eyes, clearly exhausted.

Bruce (pausing, thinking): Okay, fair enough I will agree that people like to buy dumb stuff, but I... give me a second to think of a reason. It slipped my mind for a second.

Barbara (sly smile): All right, if you don’t consider paying me ten thousand a month—this way, me and your son get the same amount— I will upload the photos of you from the Christmas photoshoot in '97.

Bruce's eyes widened, his usual stoic expression changing to one of rising panic.

Bruce (panic-stricken): Don't do that! I won’t be able to live it down.

Barbara crossed her arms with a defiant smile.

Barbara (clapping for emphasis at the start of talking): Either ten thousand, or all of Gotham will have another reason to send you dirty, thirst tweets and messages.

Bruce (desperate): You wouldn’t? There’s no way you still have those photos.

Barbara (playfully): I have them saved in a custom folder for blackmail in situations like this. It would be such a shame if Gotham citizens saw you posing like you did. Tick tock, detective.

Bruce sighed, defeated, covering his blushing face. After a moment of silent reflection, he meekly spoke.

Bruce (reluctantly): Ten thousand it is. I’ll get the paperwork ready tomorrow.

Barbara (satisfied): Glad we came to an agreement.

Bruce (sighing): Yeah, whatever. Are we done?

Barbara (nods): Mm-hm.

Bruce (playfully): Good, and don’t talk like Jason!

Barbara (mocking tone): It's a catchy phrase, Master Detective.

Bruce groaned, but after a moment, a small smile formed on his lips, appreciating the friendship he still shared with Barbara.

Bruce (genuinely): I do have to admit, I've always admired your intellect. It's close to mine—almost.

Barbara (rolling past him in her wheelchair): Just without the intense trauma. Mine is regular trauma.

Bruce (defensively): Hey, it builds character.

Barbara (light-hearted): Whatever you have to say to give yourself reassurance, buddy.

[weepingwillowwonder]

Gimme another NSFW RadioApple x GN!Reader ❤️💛[MDNI 🔞]

CW: Daddy kink, Dom Luci/Sub Reader, Voyeurism (Alastor), Dirty Talk, Penetration, Luci being a lil rough

---

"Do you think Luci would like being called daddy…?" Lost in thought, the words slip from your lips without restriction. 

"I beg your pardon?" Alastor lowers the book in his hands, eyebrows knitting together in confusion as he questions your completely random inquiry. Your eyes widen slightly at his reaction and a wave of embarrassment comes over you from asking so shamelessly. 

"You know..." you start, flustered by the need to explain yourself. 

"If you mean as a term of endearment from his daughter, I'm sure he would be elated to be referred to as such." He comments uninterestedly, returning back to his book with a flip of a page. 

"No, no. I mean calling him daddy as in like daddy…" Alastor raises an eyebrow, indicating he's still listening to you despite him seeming distracted with his book. "Like in bed or something..." Amused, Alastor repeats back what you say in a condescending tone.

"Or something, hm? As I understand it, you're asking if Lucifer would like to be referred to as daddy during intercourse. Is that correct?" You look away and give him a shy nod. "And may I ask what brought about this inquiry?" Your bottom lip pokes out in a pout before you ask accusingly.

"Am I not allowed to just ask a question?" While he doesn't say anything about the sudden change in attitude, you note the quiet hum he gives and the crossing of his legs. 

"Maybe you should ask him for yourself." He makes eye contact with you from above his book with a mischievous look. Your lips purse together. There's no way in hell you'd actually- 

"Ask who what?" The sound of the voice behind you has you practically jumping out of your skin. 

"L-Luci!" You let you a squeak of his name and quickly scramble to sit up, looking in his direction. He gives you a charming smile as he closes the portal behind him. Lucifer quickly approaches you with a gentle hand on your cheek and presses a soft kiss to the other before making his way into the room. Shedding his hat and suit jacket, he catches you watching him undo his bow tie and sticks his tongue out in a playful manor. 

"Sooo who are we asking stuff?" He comes to hover next to Alastor, stopping to give him an affectionate squeeze on his shoulder. Alastor responds by silently placing a hand on top of his. Even if only for a moment, you feel a flutter in your chest watching the two subtly show each other affection. 

"I believe our darling has something to ask you." The grin on Alastor's face grows sharply as he takes in every bit of your embarrassment. 

"Oh? Well what do you have to ask me?" Lucifer moves closer to you on the bed and kneels in front of you with a gentle smile on his face, completely unsuspecting of your less than innocent thoughts. 

"I..erm...Well I was wondering what you were off doing today! You were gone for an awfully long time, so uh...what did you do today?" You mentally facepalm yourself, why are you such a bad liar? Alastor scoffs in the background and Lucifer eyes you carefully before responding. 

"Hmmm, well I had a few meetings, finished up some paperwork, and you know, other important royal duties." He leans forward and slides both of his hands along the outside of your thighs. 

"Ah well! That sounds quite eventful!" You nod, fighting the urge not to look away as you try your best to not seem suspicious.  He hums slightly, seemingly looking straight through your facade. 

"So what did you really have to ask me?" Your eyes immediately avert as he questions you again. 

"I'm not sure what you me-," He stands up to hover over you now, one hand coming to rest on his hip while the other tucks under your chin. He lifts your chin to face him and you sucks in a quiet breath when you catch the playful look in his eyes. 

"Oh honey, don't play that game with me." You glance over at Alastor for assistance, but Lucifer's voice and his grip on your chin has your eyes snapping right back to him. Your fingers twitch as you fight the urge to relieve some of the building pressure between your legs. "He can't help you baby~" He purrs as he leans in closer…

~~~

"Mm, f-fuck Luci...!" The whimper leaves your lips in a sputter as he presses further into you, his hips rolling slowly to get deeper inside.

"Mhm...tell me about it baby~" His voice lowers slightly as he playfully mocks your cries, soft pants coming from him as he keeps rolling his hips into you..

You let out an embarrassing groan as he bottoms out and hang your head low, trying your best to take in the overstimulating pleasure he gives you. With your brain foggy with lust, you find enough clarity to remember the reason you were in this particular situation. 

"Come on sweetheart, tell me how good you feel," he says, voice dripping with desire before breathlessly chucking to himself. "...or are you already too fucked out to answer?" His teasing words and condescending tone has you crying out for him. 

"So good daddy!" His grip tightens noticeably and his hips stutter to a still in their movement. 

"W-what did you just say...?" He asks lowly, wide eyes boring in the back of your head before glancing up at Alastor's pleased grin. 

"No,no,no, please!" You whine desperately trying to fuck yourself back against him, but he stops you with a firm hold on your hips. Before you realize, you're being pulled back with a hand on your throat, your back now flush against his chest. 

"Honey, I asked you a question." You realize quickly the underlying danger hiding behind his tone as he mumbles in your ear. He's not asking you to answer him, he demanding you to. 

Making eye contact with Alastor from your position, you lick your lips. With a shaky breath you answer him in the sultriest tone you can muster, "You make me feel so good, daddy...want you to fuck me how you want it." If Alastor wasn't paying attention before, he definitely was now if the ever growing bulge in his pants was anything to go by.

"Y-you shouldn't..." Lucifer sound uncertain, almost strained as he responds. 

"But don't you love it when I call you daddy?" Your voice raises in pitch and you reach a hand up behind you to run through his hair. He groans deeply in your ear and the hand on your throat tightens slightly as he leans into your touch.

 "... I love it baby..." he whispers, hips picking back up their rhythm, pounding into you at a new angle. "You dirty fuckin' little…S-shit! Always such a tease..." he spits out, earning a sharp gasp from you. Lucifer was never truly rough with you, but if the pace kept going the way it was, who knows where the night would end?