#are you sure he's not your boyfriend?

[softquietsteadylove]

Me again! Could I maybe request a follow up to the lawyer/Thena raising her sisters au? The first one was so good and I'd love to see what happens when Gil comes over to make the lasagna. Thank you :)

"Hey!"

Gil looked up from chopping, just barely catching two heads ducking down behind the back of the couch again to resume pretending to watch tv. He chuckled, glancing briefly to his right, "it's okay, I don't mind."

Thena shook her head though, focusing back on cutting parsley with needlessly forceful chops. "They're only lingering so they can ask you invasive questions, despite me debriefing them earlier."

It was funny that she called it 'debriefing' them. But she had warned him that she didn't have much in the way of friends, so don't be concerned by the endless questions of being her boyfriend, or at least liking her, if not being accused of having a long standing affair with her. That, he had blushed at.

He shrugged though, laughing to himself as he caught the odd eye glancing his way again. "They're kids, I don't blame them for being curious. I did kind of come over uninvited."

"Trust me, it's never gone well when I've attempted to tackle our mother's recipes before," Thena muttered, looking at the hand written notes lovingly propped open on a book stand for their reference. She looked down and pointed with the knife, "like this?"

Gil smiled; the parsley looked like it had been murdered and sawed. He nodded, "looks great. Honestly, even finer--the smaller the better when it goes in the ricotta."

Thena accepted the instruction, resuming hacking at it.

Gil winced for the poor cutting board. "May I?"

Thena just watched as he reached over gently. He moved one hand to the back of the blade and adjusted the wrist of her other, demonstrating the rocking motion of a cleaner cut. "Oh."

"It'll be easier on your hand," he suggested lightly, leaving his ears and the cutting board's longevity aside.

Thena eyed him and the mirepoix he was stirring in the pot with sizzling meat already in it. She continued his work, slower and clumsier, but following his demonstration. "Thanks--this is what I was talking about."

He shrugged, though, adding the garlic and tomato paste to the loudly sizzling pot. "Hey, you wouldn't know this stuff unless it was taught to you. I just happened to be in the kitchen with my grandma a lot as a kid."

Thena stared down at her parsley, looking more and more fine by the moment. "Mother knew I was terrible in the kitchen. Father would remind me ceaselessly that a wife who couldn't cook was like a car with no wheels."

Gil frowned, "that's a pretty messed up thing to say. And to your own daughter?"

She gave him a half a smile and a raise of her sharp eyebrow, "you can tell why Mother's keepsakes are all over the house, while I didn't even keep the car that was in Father's name."

He gave her a little laugh at her joke, no matter how dark. "I guess I don't blame you for that. Moms hold the family together most of the time anyway, right?--taste."

Thena blinked at the speed with which he transitioned from one subject back to their dinner. But she accepted the bite of carrot, blowing before popping it into her mouth. "Hm, still crunchy, but it tastes good."

"Adding the tomato paste and frying it a little first helps get that tinny, acidic taste out, and sweetens it." He reached for the wine, adding a healthy glug or two before reaching for the canned tomatoes. He nodded his head, "want a glass?"

Her eyes darted to the living room.

She was a dutiful guardian, mother or not. Gil smiled, though, nudging the bottle, "one glass won't hurt, right? We're not going anywhere for the rest of the night, and they're fine."

Thena eyed the bottle before sighing, "there are some glasses on the top shelf next to the fridge, I think."

She thought, as in she wasn't sure. But Gil wiped his hands off on the towel he had thrown over his shoulder and moved to the fridge. There were indeed wine glasses still in there, upside down and everything. He pulled two out, admiring the light feel and crystalline shine of them.

"Hey," he whispered, pouring them each a modest glass of a mere few ounces each. He clinked them lightly too, although the quality of the glass still made them ting loudly. "To the first lasagne of many, right?"

That made her smile, and his own smile brightened. Whether it was lasagne or anything else from their mother's hand written recipes, he was happy to help with it. She picked up her glass and gave him a gentle smile over the rim of it. "To the inaugural lasagne."

Her lips looked even more full against the rim of a glass, and when she pulled away he realised for the first time that she wore just a little lip colour when they were in the office.

He averted his eyes from the faint pink on the rim of her glass, looking into his own swirl of red wine. Moving back to the pot he smelled the bubbling mixture. "Usually I'd say to let it simmer for a while, but about fifteen minutes should be fine so we can get things in the oven."

Thena nodded after another sip of her own. "Is the parsley cut enough?"

It was now practically a fine paste it was so chopped. The cutting board was stained green, which of course meant a lot of its flavour was stuck in the wood grain as opposed to still in the leaves. But he grinned, "looks great."

Thena rolled her eyes.

"Hey, really," he laughed, reaching around her for the bowl of ricotta to mix the greens into. "And you said you were terrible at this."

She sighed again, letting her eyes drift back to the couch and to the tv playing some kind of reality show. "Just ask them about the first time I tried baking cookies for them. I'm forbidden from contributing to bake sales. I think they nearly called the CDC on me."

Gil laughed from his belly at that. The heads on the couch turned to watch them again but he was busy looking at Thena, who was laughing faintly at her own joke. Or maybe she was laughing because he was. Either way, she had a cute laugh. "Come on, it couldn't be that bad."

She shook her head though, "poor Sersi had to take over for me to get even one pan of edible merchandise. I had to write a note excusing my poor performance."

Gil caught two pairs of eyes fully spying on them, getting caught be damned. But he slid against the edge of the counter to lean closer. "I mean, I would think they could give you a bit of a break, all things considered."

Thena's expression turned gloomy again, staring into her wine. "I think they do. But everything they send home for them to do feels herculean after a long week, or a big case, or soccer, or-"

The oven beeped loudly at them, announcing its preheating.

Thena gave him a light smile again as she retrieved the casserole dish they had selected. "Ready?"

"I'd say so," he replied gently. He picked up a ladle, first putting in some sauce on the bottom. "This helps to steam the noodles and prevent burning on the bottom layer."

"Hm," Thena mused as she watched him layer the first set of lasagne sheets in. "I thought it was a meaningless old tradition. I never imagined there was a reason for it."

Gil looked back at the recipe, "it's one of those things that you only know if you know. I'm sure your mom never thought of adding in stuff like this."

"No, I suppose not."

He gulped, wondering if he should have brought it up at all. But Thena's smile, although wistful, wasn't really sad. He pointed, "it's your time to shine."

She laughed faintly, scooping out the mixture of ricotta and her pulverised parsley. "I'm lucky I have your expertise."

He blushed. She could have asked him for anything, after he had found out what kind of day she'd had when she texted. He would have fished the moon out of the sky if she asked.

She flicked the spoon for the last glob before he layered on more sauce. "I may have to call on you again the next time we open the book."

He grinned down at the noodles as he laid them. Thena's hands were long but slim, her fingers so delicate and pretty. His sleeves were rolled up for cooking, as were hers. She looked half his size, standing next to him. "Any time, you name it."

"Careful Gil," she murmured, and it almost sounded like she was teasing him playfully. "If this turns out well, they'll be demanding you cook for them all the time."

He was pretty sure he would agree to that, whether by the girls' demand or their sister's. "The defense rests, your honour."

Thena rolled her eyes again at his corny lawyer joke, but she was still smiling at least.

"Okay," he breathed as he ladled on the last layer of sauce. "Get some cheese on this and I believe we'll have a beautiful lasagne in about an hour."

"About an hour?" she asked firmly as she sprinkled on the cheese mixture from the bag. "Don't underestimate my ability to ruin an hour's worth of hard work in the last ten minutes."

"Okay, okay," he chuckled. Thena was adamant in everything she did, from her casework in court, to her determination that she was a blackhole of culinary ability. "Set a timer for 40 minutes, then we'll check it, and I like to broil it for the last five or so, just to get that leopard spotting on the cheese."

"Yes, Chef," she purred (definitely teasing him).

He buried his nose in his wine glass again. He was just about empty, but Thena definitely didn't drink regularly with two teenagers at home, and he didn't come over to get buzzed anyway.

"Here," she said gently, reaching for the glass with the bottle already in hand. He had a polite decline on his tongue when she pulled his hand with hers, topping him up. "I owe you far more than dinner and some wine, but I guess it's a start."

"You don't owe me anything Thena," he frowned even as she poured herself a little more too. He leaned forward again, "really."

She just looked at him, and she was back to being completely unreadable. He dreaded to think what it was like to go up against her in court; not only was her beauty intimidating, but that stare was cold enough to chill his wine to the touch.

"Are you done flirting?!"

Gil tugged at his shirt collar, only to remember that he had already taken off his tie and undone the first two buttons so he wouldn't sweat in the food.

Thena glared at her sister, "I beg your pardon?"

The head of auburn hair ducked down like a startled dog, but didn't retreat entirely. "When's dinner gonna be ready?"

"In an hour," Thena snapped again, but it wasn't her sharp tone that had the girl trembling. If anything, her sharpness seemed familiar and comforting to her sisters.

"Can I have a diet coke?"

"No."

"Come on!" Sprite whined at her, "you're having a fun drink!"

Gil slid his eyes over to his colleague. The evidence was right there, even if he was the one at fault for it.

Thena let out a loud sigh, matching the dramatic energy of her sister(s). "Fine, you can each have one. But if it's gone before dinner, that's it, it's water for the rest of the night."

"Fine," Sprite moaned as she slid off the couch to retrieve them.

Thena glared at her.

"She means thank you," Sersi offered much more sweetly and docilely, even if it was just to appease their sister's glaring. She crept behind her younger sister, holding onto her shoulders the whole way to the fridge. Her eyes darted between them, "it, um, smells nice."

Gil smiled; they were nice kids. Thena had done a great job with them, clearly. "Thanks, I hope I got everything right."

"You can't do worse than her, dude, trust me," Sprite pointed blatantly at their guardian. "She's, like, find a bone in your cereal--bad."

"It was one time."

It wasn't a joke? Where did the bone come from?

"If dinner isn't for an hour," Sersi swayed on the spot, like a child shyly twirling her dress (although she was actually in yoga pants with a green flannel tied around her waist). "Would you like to watch an episode of Ghost Files?"

"Ghost show, huh?" Gil grinned, putting his hand on his hips. He looked over at Thena, who looked maybe even a little sheepish.

"It's our fav," Sprite added, excited at the prospect of sharing their favourite program. "They find evidence, and then Thee tells us if it would be accepted in court."

"None of it would be," she stated outright, "but they still ask me every episode."

She made it sound tedious, but she was smiling just like the other two as they started to move back to the living room. Gil followed, "sounds like a fun family thing."

"If you two sit up properly, there'll be room for Gil to sit," Thena suggested not-so-subtly.

But Sersi and Sprite threw themselves back onto the couch. One side was clearly claimed by each, Sersi's with a fluffy blanket for her legs and Sprite's with a crumpled up throw pillow and snacks on her respective end table.

They pointed. "Or you can sit on the loveseat."

"Yeah, why else have two couches?" Sprite snickered with a mouthful of roasted peanuts.

"Animals," Thena admonished her sisters, and yet took a graceful seat on the smaller sofa adjacent to the tv. She had sat closer, giving Gil the better seat for viewing. She pulled one of her legs up, leaving the other down and her pencil skirt stretching to accommodate her.

He sat down on the other cushion, clutching his wine glass and trying to focus on the show, rather than how he could now smell that Thena also wore a little perfume when she was in the office too.

[flwrkid14]

Red Hood vs. Red Robin: A Boyfriend's Dilemma

So, Danny Phantom has a confession to make: his favorite Gotham vigilante? It’s Red Hood. The sheer chaos, the boldness, the way Jason Todd absolutely doesn’t care what anyone thinks—it just speaks to Danny on a deep level. But the problem? He’s dating Tim Drake. Aka Red Robin. And Tim is not amused.

Every time Danny gushes about how cool Red Hood is, Tim gets this adorable little pout on his face. His arms cross, and he’ll start sulking like it’s some sort of cosmic injustice. And honestly? Danny loves it. He knows Tim’s his boyfriend, but watching him get all grumpy is way too fun to pass up.

But here’s the truth: as much as Danny admires Red Hood, Tim will always be his number one. No amount of Jason Todd fanboying could change that. Tim’s the one who makes him laugh, keeps him grounded, and knows him better than anyone. And when Tim’s sulking gets too much, Danny can’t resist it anymore. He pulls Tim close, pressing kisses all over his face until his boyfriend’s grumpy act finally cracks.

Yeah, he might pretend that Red Robin is only second best, but Danny knows where his heart truly lies. Tim Drake is, and will always be, his favorite.

[deep-space-lines]

I am inflicting, or perhaps bestowing, upon you: Garrus as various unnecessarily sexualized references that come up if you look up refs of women with guns :)

(( @milkywayes i know we’ve like almost never interacted but the silly comment i left on your post would Not leave my brain. I need to show u what you inspired ))

[bleedingoptimism]

It’s a little after eleven when Eddie finally manages to get Tarja to bed. It’s hard for her without her plushie. And really, Eddie is very thankful having a hyper-fixation with her toy seems to be the only ‘consequence’ of having divorced parents Tarja seems to have right now. He always worries if having two homes and constantly moving between them is good for her or not. Especially with Tommy being Tarja’s other dad, but against all odds, he’s good to her. So their kid is doing just fine. She’s happy. And if she’s happy, Eddie is happy.

He’s getting ready to open a beer and relax when there’s a knock on the door. He smiles, assuming is Steve bringing Toothless over and almost knocks his beer to the floor when he opens the door.

Steve looks… well he looks amazing, dressed to the nines. Must’ve been date night. But his eyes are red and puffy, his face covered in dark blotches, and his lips are swollen like he’s been biting them too much.

He’s hugging Toothless to his chest and he smiles at Eddie when he sees him, but he looks so sad it breaks his heart.

Eddie throws the beer behind him, sure it will land on the couch and cradles Steve’s face between his hands, “What did that asshole do?

Steve leans into his touch and shuts his eyes for a moment before sighing and stepping away from him, walking inside and sitting on the couch still holding Toothless like a lifeline. 

“Nothing, he was just-” Steve shakes his head and chuckles darkly, “He’s just so mean,” 

Eddie drops to his knees in front of him and dips his head to look Steve in the eye just like he did that day in the park.

“Break up with him,” he says.

“I can’t.”

“Tommy doesn't deserve you, Steve. You are worth so much more than what that asshole makes you feel. You deserve better. More. Everything,” Eddie pleads, placing his hands on Steve’s knees and squeezing, “If it’s because of Tarja, we’ll figure something out, ok? Lots of people keep in contact with their parent’s significant other after they break up” He rushes, the speech he didn't have quite prepared last week coming out of him in a single breath, “We are friends, right? So you can still visit and see her. Visit me. You don’t have to stop being a part of our lives.” 

Steve is staring at him right now like Eddie just gifted him the moon and he’s so beautiful it’s kind of hard for Eddie to keep eye contact, but he squeezes Steve’s knees again to ground himself and does. Steve needs to know he’s very serious about this. About him.

Eyes shining, Steve takes a deep breath and nods slowly, a tear falling down his cheek that Eddie follows with his eyes and watches until it hides under Steve’s v-neck shirt.

“Hey, even I didn’t put up with Tommy's shit for Tarja’s sake and I birthed her,” he jokes awkwardly, trying to make him laugh and feels like doing a little victory dance when Steve snorts cutely,

“Okay,” he hiccups.

“Yeah?” Eddie smiles back at him, relieved.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, “Fuck Tommy.” And drops back on the couch, looking exhausted, “Can I stay here tonight?” he asks in a whisper, like he’s afraid Eddie will say no. As if.

“Yeah, of course,” Is what he answers, and has half a mind to invite him into his bed but knows it’s a terrible idea. So he lends Steve his favorite flannel pajamas and sets blankets and a pillow on the couch and they say their goodnights.

And if he does a little dance when he closes the door to his room, no one is there to see.

In the morning, Steve stays for breakfast. And attempts to kill Eddie by making his heart explode, cooking it himself from scratch with Tarja’s help, who is so happy she won’t stop running around the kitchen making Toothless fly and sing about ‘happy family breakfast time’.

It’s actually hard to tell if she’s happier to have her plushie back or that Steve is there. Eddie, on the other hand, knows exactly what he’s happiest about. Death by tenderness. Is that a thing? He amuses himself thinking about a couple csi’s with sunglasses saying it, 

“He died because he witnessed something too cute,”

“Ah yes, death by fondness. I’ve seen it before.”

After, Eddie walks him to the door and Steve smiles sweetly at him, and holds his hand, squeezing it once before letting go, “Well, see you. I guess,” he says bashfully and there’s a moment there, a second where time stops and Eddie thinks he should kiss him. Wants to kiss him, needs to kiss him.

But he doesn’t. Because Steve is still dating Tommy, and just because he said he was going to break up with him doesn’t mean he wants to start something new with Eddie.

Eddie himself called him his friend for the first time last night for christ sake. ‘Fucking chill’ he thinks to himself.

🧸

And then a week goes by without hearing a word from Steve. But Eddie doesn't hold it against him.

At first, he figures he needs time to think but then he starts to wonder if he really is going to break up with Tommy. Four days in, he gets paranoid about it. Maybe Steve got brainwashed into thinking Eddie is bad for him. Maybe Tommy told him Eddie was putting ideas in his head, that he shouldn’t talk to him anymore… With him telling Steve to break up with his boyfriend and all... 

He’s well aware of how manipulative Tommy can be and has seen the way he belittles Steve to keep him around, so he knows it’ll be hard for Steve to actually go through with it.

And he can’t exactly show up at Tommy’s and steal Steve away, no matter how appealing the idea might be. The only thing he can do is just think of Steve, wish him well, and send him strength to do what he needs to do. At the end of the day, it needs to be his decision. His choice.

As Tommy’s week with Tarja approaches he starts getting more and more anxious, wondering if it’ll be Steve or Tommy who picks her up.

When the day finally arrives, and the doorbell rings, Tarja runs to open the door and Eddie peeks his head through the hallway.

“Daddy!” Tarja screams.

“Hey, Tata! You ready?” Tommy says and Eddie steps into the hall to greet him too.

“Not yet!” Tarja chuckles and Tommy smiles at her,

“Okay, go get ready. I’ll wait here,”

Eddie walks to the door and leans on the doorframe, “Hey,”

“Hi. Long time no see,” Tommy says and then adds, “You look great,”

“You don’t,” Eddie answers, because it’s true. He looks like shit. Greasy hair, bags under his eyes, chapped lips, wrinkles on his clothes, “What happened?”

“Steve broke up with me.” 

Eddie’s eyes go wide and he smiles, he doesn’t even try to hide it, “He did?”

“Don’t smile, fucker,” Tommy says but there’s no heat behind it. He knows he deserves it.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, not sorry at all.

“Stop,” Tommy whines because Eddie’s smile is actually getting bigger,

“Sorry,” he repeats and then clears his throat, “Did he tell you why?”

“Because I’m a horrible person,” Tommy groans.

“Hey, the first step is to ad-”

“To admit it, yeah, yeah. I know” Tommy interrupts him, groaning again.

Eddie sighs, and punches Tommy’s shoulder lightly, “Look, Tommy, I’m just going to say this because, well… you are pathetic. You need to do better.” And then he points to his back, to where Tarja’s disappeared to get her stuff, “She’s going to grow up and realize you are an awful person and she’s not going to want you in her life. And I’m not going to dissuade her from it, because I already don’t want you to be in mine, you know that, right?”

Tommy looks at him seriously and then nods once, fast and hard. Like he gets it. Like he agrees and is determined to change. And Eddie hopes for Tarja’s sake he is. But knows, deep in his heart, that either way, she’s going to be fine.

“Also, just a heads up. I’m in love with Steve and I’m going to ask him out,” he adds in a rush when he hears Tarja running up behind him.

“You are shitting me,” Tommy whispers, shocked and clenching his teeth.

Eddie laughs, “Nope,” he says, closing his lips loudly around the P.

“Eddie,” Tommy warns him like he’s waiting for Eddie to say he's joking.

“What? I hear he’s single,” Eddie smirks.

“You motherfuc- Hey Tata!” Gathering Tarja in his arms, Tommy drops the subject but he glares at Eddie as he kisses Tarja’s cheek goodbye and murmurs ‘unbelievable’ as he’s leaving. Eddie closes the door and starts laughing at the look on Tommy’s face.

He needs to call Steve.

He tries a couple of times but he doesn’t pick up and he starts worrying Steve might not actually want to talk to him, and then there’s a knock on the door but Eddie, too preoccupied with his anxiety, opens without looking, thinking Tarja forgot something.

When he doesn't hear her, Eddie looks up from his ‘ignored calls’ screen to see nonother than Steve standing there, looking nervous and like a fucking dream with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. A fucking bouquet of flowers. For him. For Eddie. All different shades of red, because he knows is his favorite color.

Eddie just blinks at him a couple of times and Steve flushes even more and drops the hand holding up the flowers, scratches the back of his neck nervously, “This was stupid, the flowers were fucking stupid. They are stupid. I’m stupid, right?”

A laugh bubbles out of Eddie and he grabs him by the scruff of his shirt and pulls him inside. He closes the door once they are both in and slams Steve against it, crushing their lips together. Steve circles his arms around Eddie and holds him close, instantly returning the kiss with fervor. 

They kiss as if it were fate. They kiss until it's hard to breathe and Eddie pulls away only to kiss him again, and again, and again.

“Not stupid,” he murmurs between kisses and feels Steve’s smile against his lips.

Eventually, Eddie takes a step back and lets Steve into his home properly, “Hi,” he says cheesily.

“Hi,” Steve says back grinning, then he lifts up the bouquet again, which is now completely ruined by him still holding it strongly while they made out like crazy, and his smile drops,

“Shit,” he pouts cutely, god Eddie wants to eat him. He laughs and takes the flowers anyway, putting them in an empty glass bottle, because he doesn’t own a flower vase, because he’s a normal human being. ‘Who the fuck owns a flower vase?’

“Come here,” he says, holding out both hands for Steve to take and follow him.

Steve takes his hands but doesn't move, instead swings them from side to side, “Wait, let's talk,”

Fuck, yeah. They should. That’s a good idea. Fuck. Damn, Steven Whatever-The-Fuck-Is-His-Middle-Name Harrington and his sensible and very logical choice…

Eddie huffs exaggeratedly making Steve chuckle and redirects them to the couch, where they sit still holding hands, “Alas,” he says dramatically, “You are right, we should talk. I actually wanted to ask you out properly, not debauch you the second you walked through the door. Sorry about that” he lies, not sorry at all, again.

Steve blushes and smiles, drawing little circles with his thumbs on Eddie’s hands, “Yeah me too. I wanna do this right. Ask you out. Go on dates. I think we should take this slow,”

Eddie makes a face and groans at that. He doesn't want to take it slow. He wants Steve to move in right now or something. Steve rolls his eyes amused at his interruption and keeps going,

“I came here to ask you out the right way because I want you to know I’m committed. But we should think about how this will affect Tarja… and Tommy too. We should go out a few times, spend some time alone, and I want you to meet my friends and my parents and I want to meet your friends and your uncle too and just do this properly and-”

Eddie interrupts him with a kiss, he can’t take it anymore, he’s been dying to kiss Steve for months now and he’s so sweet and thoughtful it makes Eddie insane, makes him feel like he needs to ruin him, but in a nice way, like with devotion and love.

Steve lets go of his hands to wrap his arms around Eddie’s waist and hoists him until he’s straddling Steve. Eddie leans his elbows on Steve’s shoulders, and buries his hands in his hair, pulling and messing with it.

“Okay but have you considered having hard, hot, wet sex, and then maybe we do what you said?” He asks panting against Steve’s lips and actually feeling how that punches the air out of him.

He hugs Eddie closer to his chest and whines, “Yeah okay, we can do it your way,” and gets up, lifting Eddie with him as if he were weightless. Eddie squawks and laughs all the way to his room.

🧸

They spend the week together, talking, eating, drinking, laughing and fucking. Except it’s more than that because when Eddie is inside Steve, with his tongue, his fingers, or his strap, it feels like more. It feels like love. Like fate.

Steve, still determined to take things slow, doesn’t stay there all the time, going back to Robin’s where he moved back to after breaking up with Tommy. He actually brings her over one day and the three of them spend the afternoon together. Eddie decides they are going to be best friends immediately because Robin is hilarious and merciless. When Steve gets back the next day he kisses Eddie so good and hard his knees almost give out on him and tells him he has Robin’s seal of approval. Something he knows Tommy never got.

When the week passes Eddie says goodbye theatrically as if they were cross-star lovers in a bad soap opera and Steve chuckles and calls him ridiculous but kisses him so passionately that Eddie drags him right back inside and they say goodbye again a few hours later.

They had decided to wait until Eddie talked to Tarja about her feelings over Tommy’s and Steve’s breakup and whether she still wanted Steve around or not before having him over again.

But when Tarja gets back home she’s gloomy and silent. She hugs Eddie in greeting when she arrives and then spends the rest of the day lying face down on the floor and occasionally sighing loudly, obviously trying to make Eddie ask her what’s wrong.

And really, Eddie shouldn't find it as funny as he does, but he thinks about calling Wayne and telling him he gets it now when Wayne used to tell him he had too much personality.

Eventually, he lies on the floor next to her and asks. Tarja looks at him with big sad eyes and says, “I haven't seen Steve in a million years! And Daddy said he is not his boyfriend anymore! So I’ll never see him again and I miss him”

Eddie coos at her, “I’m sorry you miss him little dragon, but you can totally see him again! Would you like me to call him? Since he’s my friend too?” Already trying to strategize on how to tell her they are more than friends.

Tarja lights up and jumps off the floor and onto Eddie, punching the breath out of him, “Yes! Yes! Call Steve! Steve smiles more when he’s with you than he did with daddy anyway. Why don’t you boyfriend him instead?”

Well… that was easy.

He chuckles and shakes his head, “That’s a great idea sweety, go grab my phone,”

Tarja runs and grabs Eddie’s phone off the table and hands it to him, he doesn’t bother getting off the floor so she kneels beside him listening attentively as he dials Steve’s number. 

“Hi, handsome, you talked with Tarja already?” Steve greets him after it rings twice.

“Yeah about that, turns out Tarja talked to me, actually,” he chuckles, “Hi, by the way”

“Hi,” Steve repeats lovingly and laughs, “What do you mean?”

“She had this awesome idea!” he says winking at her and she covers her mouth with her tiny hands to hide her giggles, “That, since you are not with Tommy anymore, you should be my boyfriend instead,” he continues, voice going soft and chuckles when he hears Steve's breathless ‘oh’ on the other side of the line, “Come over?”

“Of course, gimme an hour? I'm with a client” Steve hums and Eddie whispers he’ll give him anything he asks for and hangs up.

An hour later Tarja is still lying on the floor, only now it’s with papers and crayons spread all around her when the doorbell rings. She looks up at Eddie excitedly and he nods at her, “Go on then”

Tarja runs to the door and opens it wide to reveal Steve standing there as beautiful as ever, giving Eddie a deja vu of the first time he saw him.

“Papa Steve!” Tarja yells and jumps up to hug him.

Steve gasps and falls to his knees with her in his arms and looks up at Eddie with shocked wet eyes.

‘So much for taking it slow,’ Eddie thinks with a smirk.

Fin.

☝️first part

☕🥐💕?

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

My real time reaction of watching an American influencer spread straight up lies about my country because they lived/visited there at some point

[kacievvbbbb]

Mihawk and the Red Haired Pirates

-Look I don't know what to tell you, Mihawk's epithet is literally Hawkeyes meaning he is world-renowned for his eyesight meaning that he'd probably make a good sharpshooter. And maybe Yasopp decides to test this theory with a little friendly competition. And after giving Mihawk a quick intro into how guns work, maybe Yasopp had to pull out every trick there is in the book to narrowly avoid losing to said Hawkeyes, who as it turns out is indeed very good at hitting targets and who had literally just learned how to cock a gun not even 30 minutes ago. But who's to say what actually happened, the day of November 25th at 2:35pm? Certainly not Yasopp, the record clearly shows he is undefeated.

-Once a year Ben and Mihawk go on a little trip just the two of them. They act like it's just so they can shit-talk Shanks but actually, they just go fishing somewhere in the middle of the ocean and drink horribly overpriced and fancy alcohol. Look Benn loves his crew, and would die for them but also if he doesn't get at least a week to himself once every year he'd kill them all himself. He deserves nice things and a little peace and fucking quiet and not being constantly inundated with the whims of a man child and Mihawk's the closest he's ever gonna get to a friend with taste, and he travels alone with a bunch of fancy wine. Sue the man. Mihawk who would rather nap is fine to let someone else sail his overgrown raft against the annoyingly ever-changing grandline for a week or two.

-Wouldn't it be cute if Mihawk learned a lot of his fancier cooking techniques from Roux? Like he knew how to cook to survive but watching Roux is how he learned to like properly dice vegetables and that eating fish prepared the same way three times a day is not infact a life he would like to lead. This was of course less cute to Lucky Roux who in the beginning had no clue what was happening and only felt the weight of Mihawk's otherworldly stare on the back of his neck as he handled knives. (he defiantly for at least a little bit, thought Mihawk had a knife fetish. which, he's not entirely wrong)

-To Building Snake (who I just learned is the RHP's navigator) Mihawk might as well be a modern-day miracle. In his eyes, Mihawk's sailing is proof that god exists, because only divine intervention can explain how this man ever gets anywhere never mind on time or early even. Building Snake is pretty sure he owns neither a map nor a log pose and he has never actually seen the sails of Mihawk's pretend ship unfurled or in use. Actually, he has never seen Mihawk do anything but sit menacingly on the throne in the middle of the boat, which why? If you think about it for even a second longer that 2 minutes how Mihawk "sails" anywhere breaks every law of physics and somehow even the concept of geography. Building Snake would like to dissect him and study him under a microscope but knows the boss would disapprove.

[vaguely-concerned]

the way garak looks at bashir as he puts all the clues together at the end of cardassians. the sheer 'look at that little twink go (affectionate, sexual overtones)' energy he manages to convey in the background there as bashir passionately does the presentation of their group project that garak did 80% of the actual work on. immaculate

[deoidesign]

A frustrating development with the growing lack of reading comprehension I've personally noticed is an emerging fervor of insisting things aren't canon unless they are explicitly stated beyond all reasonable doubt.

I can not emphasize enough how harmful a mindset this is to have. Yes, it's wonderful to have characters outright say "I'm trans," but to deny a character's identity for not saying that is dangerous.

Plenty of real people prefer not to use specific labels. Historically, people didn't have our modern terms or modes of expression. Many modern cultures don't use these terms, either, and plenty of people within those that do can't safely openly identify.

If the only representation you accept as canon is within modern (and let's be honest, wealthy white able-bodied American) standards, then you are denying yourself and others a huge amount of representation and seriously limiting the media around you.

[sweetlullabyebye]

Confession attempt n°1 dearly beloved (scene under the cut)

[beanghostprincess]

Sanji losing all humanity within him and Zoro knowing he has to kill him because they made a promise but Usopp refusing to let him do it and it's Water 7 all over again except that this is somehow even worse

[yuwuta]

itfs + reader is so real to me and it works like this: you’re megumi’s childhood best friend, somewhere along the way he meets yuuji, yuuji asks him out, and somewhere along the way—probably mid blowjob or something becuase that’s definitely when yuuji would be thinking about it—yuuji’s like “hey, so do you know you’re in love with your best friend or what?” and megumi literally chokes, and avoids him for like a week but eventually he does admit that he does know, but he also does really like yuuji and if they were normal, they’d break up, but they’re so very far from normal that it becomes a whole thing for them to get off while talking about you, for yuuji to taunt megumi about how he wishes you were here between them and tease him about naughty it is that he fantasizes about his best friend while getting sucked off by his boyfriend, and for megumi to tell him to shutup but then he babbles about all of he pent up fantasies about you anyway. yuuji likes messing with megumi’s guilt about this, and megumi hates how much he likes that yuuji is also into you, and somehow you being oblivious to this is a whole other kink they’ve got going on and have no idea how to sort out

[jackdaw-and-hattrick]

Stand at the Edge

Prologue- Next

Ao3

Damian was irritated. This was not uncommon, surrounded as he was by idiots, but today especially he was, as Todd would so eloquently put it, pissed. This was because, for reasons utterly unknown, Greyson had gone insane, obsessively cleaning the spotless mansion (until Pennyworth ordered him to stop) and incessantly bothering him about his appearance, all because of an interrogation. Why Father had decided to hold this particular interrogation within the Manor itself was yet another source of Damien’s irritation. Apparently, the suspect’s emotional involvement with Todd justified the clear risk posed by allowing this stranger into their home, despite the fact that all background checks and past interviews showed him to be a clear and dangerous unknown. If anything, Todd’s involvement with the suspect only increased the likelihood of this “Danny Nightengale” being a danger to the family. Damian did not believe that Todd was an irrational madman in constant need of supervision Father seemed to think he was, but he did not pretend the man did not pose a possible threat. There was also the possibility that Nightengale recognized how deeply compromised Farther was when it came to Todd and was using him to gain access to the family, be it as the Bats or the Waynes. If that was the case, then Damien was sure Father would not mind granting a temporary reprieval of the No-kill rule. For the family’s safety, that is. Not because he cared about Todd or any of his other siblings or their feelings, thank you.

The main area of concern surrounding Nightengale was not what they had learned, but what they hadn't. So far, he had avoided all interviews with concerning success. Furthermore, no family member had actually managed to get a photo of him. Attempts to look him up showed only that he was a student at Gotham University studying Astrophysics and Aerospace engineering, that he had a sister named Jazmine who worked as a counselor within Arkem, which was concerning within it's own right, and that he had lived with said sister until moving in with Todd three months ago. Footwork provided a few more details, such as that he worked at the Iceberg Lounge as part of the band playing the violin and that he seemed to have a number of pet birds, specifically ravens, though these birds seemed to come and go as they pleased. Neighbors reported that he was pleasant enough, though there were a number of noise complaints regarding both the birds and his apparent activity as an engineer. What was truly concerning was the total informational whiteout predating his arrival in Gotham. The transcript he had used to get into university was a forgery, as was his social security number, birth certificate, and driver's license. He had no social media presence of any sort and there was no one they could talk to who had any idea where he was from. The same went for his sister, they were both complete blanks. What was most interesting, at least according to Drake, was that the photo used on the fake driver's license looked to have been doctored, as if someone had taken an old photo and artificially aged it. None of them could think of a reason someone would need to do that.

“I still do not understand why we are bringing Todd and Nightengale here.”

Damien said, doing his best to tie his tie himself with mediocre success.

“Because,” Bruce explained, stepping in to help and rescue the tie from Damien’s increasingly frustrated attempts, “he is dating Jason, and as his family, we have every reason to want to meet him.”

Damien raised a brow. That seemed unusually irrational of Father. Perhaps the presence of Todd in the equation was interfering more than he had expected.

“Given how slippery he has proven in the past,” he continued “this is our best opportunity to engage him while minimizing both his suspicion and his likelihood to run. Furthermore, he is far more likely to be forthcoming than he would be if operating on his own turf. This gives us the upper hand more than if we attempted to meet him elsewhere.”

That was better. If there was one thing Damien appreciated about Father, it was his direct, analytical nature. Meanwhile, Greyson shouted something about needing to hide all of the chairs. Suddenly there was a knock at the front door, and a loud bang as Greyson tripped himself attempting to open it. Pennyworth, appearing suddenly at the door when Damian could have sworn he was in the kitchen, opened it before Greyson had a chance to right himself. Standing there was Todd and, assumedly, Nightengale. It suddenly occurred to Damian that he had never actually seen the man up close before. He was tall, with dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. He was thin as well, concerningly so, his joints sharp where the bones shone through. His skin was so pale, like freshly fallen snow or bleached bone. There was something terribly familiar about him, but so was probably any other pale man with black hair and blue eyes. As he grew closer, Damian noticed, snaking up Nightengale’s right arm and peaking up from the collar of his turtleneck, a Lichtenberg scar. Something in the back of his head stirred, but he couldn't think what it could possibly be. Greyson was shaking this man’s hand, offering some kind of greeting, but Damian couldn't hear it. Suddenly, Nightengale’s head snapped. Now he was looking right at Damian, his blue eyes boundless and staring as a grin stretched far wider across his face than should have been possible, wider even than the Joker and with teeth like a cat, sharp and predatory. He thought he maybe should have been frightened, though he wasn't sure why.

“Little Prince!”

Nightengale embraced Damian tightly, lifting him slightly off the ground. He wasn't sure how he had gotten so close so quickly. His skin was cold, but as comforting as an ice pack on an injury; the relief of a cold shower in the height of summer held in sharp and narrow arms. Something about this situation seemed wrong but he couldn't pin down just what it was.

“It's been so long! Look how big you’ve gotten. Ancients, the last time I saw you, you were just a shade!”

Wait. That was it.

“What do you mean, ‘last time’”

Damian willed his muscles to tense, his hands to clench into fists but they remained stubbornly relaxed.

“Dami, little light, ya sitti, don't you remember me?”

Nightengale gently set Damian and for a second he was blinded as the man was wreathed in rings of light bright as the sun. When the light faded the man had... changed. The most obvious shift was his hair, once black and now so blindingly white that it made his face shadowy and difficult to see, as well as luminescent, Lazarus green eyes, the sclera black as night. Rather than the simple black turtle neck and slacks he had come in, he was now wearing a black hazmat suit with a white belt holding what looked like an old-fashioned radio and, oddly, a thermos. He had white gloves, though they became sharp and claw-like at the tips. There were other, more subtle changes, such as how his skin grew grey, like someone who had been dead for hours, and the faint glow of the fractal Lichtenburg just visible through the suit. Damian became aware suddenly of pressure that had been building in his ears and only just released.

“No.”

“Oh...” the Man, he was not Nightengale, seemed to deflate.

“No... I... It's not... You can not.”

Damien was faintly aware that he was not making sense, but seeing that this made two of them, he felt little need to correct it. Finally, enough of his brain cells managed to collide for him to form a sentence.

“What are you doing here?”

“Damien,” Father said, careful to insert himself between his son and whoever, whatever, was floating just slightly off the ground before them, “who is this? How do you know him?”

“His name is Phantom. When I was a child, I would make up stories about him and the strange land he ruled.”

Hearing his name, Phantom smiled a much smaller, more hesitant smile than his Joker-esque grin from before. He waved slightly. Meanwhile, Father looked as if he were about to have an aneurysm. Looking about, that seemed to be the consensus amongst the onlookers, albeit Todd who laughed. Hard.

Tag Cultists

@mur-ururu @krzys2000 @soren1830 @fisticuffsatapplebees @emergentpanda-blog @heirxofxtime

[welcometothelairofthebitchking]

Imagine 16 year old Gojo who just got divorced in front of KFC. Now imagine him going to BNHA universe and bringing his brand new children Megumi and Tsukuyomi (who he insists are his blood children how dare you try to deny the bond between him and the children he gave birth to HIMSELF-) with him. Now imagine he needs to enroll them at some elementary school (where we will later find Fyuumi, Todoroki's sister to be a teacher at). I need someone to help him with parenting and signging up the children for school and stuff. Like maybe another mother or older sibling. I am considering Inko, Bakugo's mom & dad (actually they should be neighbours it'll be so funny the family offers to babysit and Gojo crashes over after his own classes and eats all their sweets and Bakugo will scream at him to brush his fucking teeth. The beef between Bakugo and Megumi will make Gojo's day and he won't realize he's part of the beef as well.), and funnily enouh, Dabi

Kurogiri isn't an option becausehe can't leave Shigaraki long enough to come with Gojo to sign up the children but Gojo keeps breaking into his bar or even room to nurse orange juice and be dramatic over not being able to connect with his children

[mintmatcha]

coworker sero who brings coffee for the whole office when he notices you need the caffeine boost… he’d rather spend a ton of money getting everyone a drink than admitting he’s got a thing for you tho

— 🪐

I've been scream and sighing about this all day

denki comes and knocks on your cubicle every now and again and asks you to "tell your boyfriend you're tired-- daddy wants free coffee today."

[doveywovy]

06 not realizing they’re injured

unhealthy coping mechanisms/healed wrong/"it's not my blood"

------

After the last of his little brothers dies, Tobirama learns to always sense Hashirama's chakra. It's a drain on his own resources, if a trickle of one- but he starts when he's nine years old, and a trickle is a dangerous amount.

He does it anyways, and his abilities adjust around it. The relief of always knowing where Hashirama is has a massive impact on his ability to actually sleep at night. When he's twelve, he pushes himself so he can track Toka's chakra as well. Learning to divide his attention- between his brother, his cousin, and whatever task is at hand- is not easy. He gets migraines, makes mistakes. In the end he manages, and from there it's only natural to expand.

He can't manage all the Senju, but he can keep an eye out for the children. For the one civilian who reminds him of his mother, for his brother and his cousin.

And eventually, for Izuna.

That's from a different kind of paranoia. If he knows where Izuna is, it halves the threat he presents. He might not be able to keep an eye on all the Senju, but at least he knows where one of the greatest threats against them always is. He keeps a closer watch on Izuna's chakra than he does anyone but Hashirama's.

(It's easy to follow. It's distinct from the Senju, burning hot and crackling with energy, less like a fire and more like a lightning bolt. If he turns his full attention to it, which he rarely if ever does, it sends a shivering zap through his own system like static shock leaping between fingertips.)

Perhaps it was a mistake. Lumping Izuna in with his loved ones. Or perhaps the mistake was relying on the sensation of the man's chakra in the winter months, a warm fire banked compared to his own frigid nature. Perhaps allowing himself to cling to anyone's chakra at all, even Hashirama's, was the real mistake.

Regardless- he snaps into action when he wakes up to the sensation of someone's chakra sputtering out, using the Hiraishin to travel the distance- three jumps more than he's ever done before, a strain on his body that distracts him as much as the frantic feeling of chakra flaring and struggling as it's tamped back down that drives him on.

He saves Izuna. It's only after he's done it that he realizes his mistake, and by then it's too late.

[nextstopwonderland]

“Bryan has found that I definitely respond well to negative motivational tactics.” - Wheeler Yuta for Pro Wrestling Illustrated