#i say this as if this isn't MY au

[minteayoongimakesmewoozi]

been thinking about this for a couple days now, so... a lil bit of royalty!au teehee

Ayame said she was raised in a family of blacksmiths.

Who would know better?

Her hands and arms had been scarred, even before she became Shishou's apprentice. They thought it was from the forge.

They didn't know it was from archery practice.

She had an excellent sense of balance. From the forge, she would insist. From working the billows.

Wrong. It had been from horse-riding.

Her stitches were clumsy. Because she had never been well-practiced in her mother's teachings. Her mother had been a seamstress. At least her embroidery was passable.

No, her mother had never been a seamstress. Noble women never mended their own clothes.

Nobility was one way of referring to the Higichi family of Okutama. Kuge was another.

Hime was not simply a childhood nickname.

"Hime," Tanjirou whispered, eyes wide, "what are you doing here?"

Here, on Mount Kumotori.

Ayame furtively glanced around, but they were alone. Tomioka-san had long fled, and it was only herself, Tanjirou and Nezuko.

"It isn't Hime, it's Ayame," she said sharply. "I'm here as a Kisatsutai trainee, not as... and I gave up my succession. There are - there is no more Ayame-hime. Just Ayame."

She knew they had a strange upbringing. They were the same age, but they were never the same station. Tanjirou, as a guard. Ayame, as royalty.

But there was only one Higuchi and two Kamados left. And she had given up her succession, the same way Oniichan had done the same before her.

Hime was just a childhood nickname now.

Tanjirou paled. He clutched his oni sister close and choked back a sob. There was no more Higuchi family. Only Higuchi Ayame.

But that didn't make him any less her guard.

Tanjirou was not unfamiliar with a katana. With Breathing Styles, with Breath of Water, but not with a sword in hand.

But Tanjirou said he was raised in a charcoal burner's family. It wasn't a lie. His family had burned charcoal for Okutama.

They were not merely charcoal burners.

He had grown up with a sword in hand, and he had learned to swing it under his Otousan's tutelage. His father had been the guard to O-Junhiko-sama. Tanjirou was meant to be the guard for O-Akihiko-sama. Then, O-Ayame-hime.

No, just Ayame now.

There was no Higuchi family.

But there was the Kamado family, however small.

He didn't know if Urokodaki-san had figured out he was familiar with a katana. He already knew how to do basic strikes. He had spent his childhood sparring with Hi - with Ayame.

There was no Higuchi family.

There was Higuchi Ayame.

There was the Kamado family, reduced to two.

The Kamados had always guarded the Higuchis.

"Hime," Tanjirou gasped as the obi sliced into his shoulder, and Ayame crashed into a building.

She didn't scold him for using that old title. He wasn't sure she was conscious.

Wasn't sure if she was breathing.

He was her guard. He was supposed to protect her, even though she told him time and time again that he was just Tanjirou, and she was just Ayame.

"You don't have to live your life protecting me. I don't want that. I can do it myself."

That was what she had said after they fought Kyougai. He hadn't wanted to agree, but she was stronger than him now. She was one year his senior when it came to all things Kisatsutai. She didn't need protection.

He couldn't have protected her even if he wanted to.

Too distracted by the civilian behind him, he had rushed to protect that man instead of his hime. (Ayame had always been hime to him, even when they were children.)

Warabihime threw her hair over her shoulder. He didn't have to breathe in to know she was satisfied with the destruction she had caused. Buildings lay broken. People were screaming.

And his hime was not with him.

Anger rushed through him as blood dripped from his eyes, staining his cheeks with crimson tears.

He was supposed to protect his hime.

He was going to cut down the false Warabihime in her name.

"Tengen-san found out."

"Eh?"

"In Yoshiwara."

"Eh?!"

Ayame crossed her legs and frowned at him.

Tanjirou winced. He was still recovering from his coma, so he couldn't even dash away. Not that he would want to. Even if Ayame didn't think she was royalty anymore, he was her guard and would continue acting as such.

"You called me Hime," she said, accusatory. "When Gyuutarou was going to stab me. On that roof."

Tanjirou winced once more. Ah, that...

It had slipped from his mouth without a second thought. He might call her Ayame to her face, but she was still O-Ayame-hime to him. He hadn't meant to!

She continued, "He thought it was strange, so he did some digging. Found out that I'm kuge. Which means he knows you're buke."

His eyes widened. "No!"

"Yes." She crossed her arms as well. "So. He knows."

"Has he - has he told anyone?"

Zenitsu and Inosuke flashed through his mind. They knew the stories Ayame and Tanjirou had told of their families best, which meant that they knew the least about the true nature of their families. They were both nobility, and they did their best to act like they weren't.

Ayame shook her head. "He didn't tell anyone." She pursed her lips. "Zenitsu might suspect, though. He was in earshot."

Tanjirou groaned and covered his face with his hands. What a mess.

"We should've just told everyone," he mumbled.

He didn't have to look at her to know she was glaring at him.

"No! I don't want people to know I'm kuge. They'll start thinking I'm unsuited to be a Demon Slayer. I'm a tsuguko. I can't let that happen."

"Hime..." A sharp pinch to his ankle. His leg jerked, almost causing him to kick her off the bed. "Ow - Ayame."

She nodded in satisfaction. "There. Isn't it better when you're just Tanjirou and I'm just Ayame? Look at everything we've done since we became normal people. I don't want to lose that."

Normal people, huh? He didn't think anything they were doing was normal. If they were normal people, she would be a blacksmith, and he would be a charcoal burner.

She would not be his hime. She would just be Ayame.

His heart fluttered in his chest.

"You're beautiful," Tanjirou breathed.

It was wrong. He knew it was wrong, these feelings that welled up in him, but he couldn't help it.

Because Ayame was seated before him, wearing his haori and the sunflower hairpin that he bought for her, and she was looking at him like she wouldn't look at anything else.

"Ayame," he whispered.

Not Hime. Just Ayame.

Her fingertips were rough as they skittered across his jawline, but so, so gentle. He couldn't help but lean into her touch.

He was just Tanjirou, and she was just Ayame.

Her lips pressed to his and it felt like fireworks bursting to life in his chest. It was Hinokami Kagura burning him up from the inside, but it didn't matter as long as she kept holding him so gently.

His hime.

His -

Hime.

She was kuge, and he was buke, and it looked like the same thing on the surface, but it was wrong.

It was wrong, but why did it feel so right?

But it wasn't. It was wrong.

Because she was O-Ayame-hime, and he was Kamado-kimi.

It was the same thing on the surface, but it wasn't the same thing at all. They were of different ranks - not just in the Kisatsutai, but in life as well.

Otousan always told him to never forget his duty.

He was his hime's guard, and nothing more.

"Tanjirou," she whispered. His heart ached, even as it was soothed by the way she called out to him. As if they could stand on equal ground. "I - Tanjirou, I - "

"I can't," he croaked.

Her hair was so soft, ink-black tresses spilling over his fingers. He was undeserving of such a position; his hands were never allowed to touch her. They were meant to protect her.

Even if it meant from himself.

"I can't." No, don't look at him like that. Don't look at him like - "I can't. I'm sorry. I - "

I'm not worthy, Hime.

Tanjirou knew she would come to him. She was always braver than him.

"I think," Ayame murmured, "I'm falling in love with you."

"Don't say that," he said, even as his heartbeat fluttered in his throat and his chest swelled with emotion. "Don't..."

How could she? When she was O-Ayame-Hime, and he was Kamado-kimi.

He dropped to a bow, forehead pressed to the tatami. Showing her the respect she deserved.

"Tanjirou - what are you - ?"

"O-Ayame-Hime, please forgive me."

Her breath hitched. Her scent swirled around him, suzuran and charcoal, sadness and grief.

"I'm not - "

"As your guard," he continued, "it was inappropriate of me. I apologise."

"Tanji - "

"Hime."

"..."

"..."

He didn't lift his head. It wasn't proper.

Her voice was cool when she said, "You are forgiven, Kamado-kimi. Please raise your head."

Oh. He hadn't heard her use that tone with him since...

"No more Hime or O-Ayame-hime. Just call me Ayame, and I'll call you Tanjirou. Okay? We're - we're friends now. Right...?"

Tanjirou slowly straightened. His throat was tight, but even if he could muster any words, it was - it was inappropriate for a mere guard to speak without being spoken to. He kept his gaze on the tatami in front of his knees; a guard shouldn't lay eyes on a princess unless they were in public.

"Kamado-kimi, raise your head."

At his hime's command, he raised his gaze to meet hers.

She sighed. "So that's it, then?"

Tanjirou took a deep breath.

"That's it, then."

It was time they both remembered their places.

Tanjirou's nose wrinkled at the burning scent of alcohol.

“It's tradition,” said Zenitsu. He swallowed a mouthful of his sake and claimed Ayame's seat for his own. “Sorry that didn't go the way I planned. I forgot how quick your reflexes are.”

He shot his older friend a mildly annoyed look.

“Zenitsu…”

“We all knew it was gonna happen anyway. I just thought I'd give you guys a kick in the ass. Get things moving along, ne.” Zenitsu glanced at Tanjirou. “I didn't hear whatever you guys were whispering about, don't worry. The music was too loud.”

A sigh of relief slipped from Tanjirou's chest. He forgot about Zenitsu's incredible hearing.

To stave off more questions, Tanjirou sipped the sake dish in his hands. The alcohol was just as burning and unpleasant as he remembered.

“Ne, it's about to get more dangerous.” Zenitsu tipped his head back. “Not for us, but for Ayame-chan. She'll be fighting in battles that we can't help her with soon enough.”

“That's true…”

"So, whenever you call her Hime, it makes her really frustrated. It's not like she's helpless."

Tanjirou choked on air. "Zenitsu...!"

"You're not subtle. I've suspected for a while now." The blonde laughed to himself. "A real-life princess, and you're acting like this? You really are an idiot, aren't you?"

"Ze - Zenitsu! Quiet down!"

"No one's listening, it's fine." He drank another mouthful of sake. "Ne, you're living the life most guys dream of. Why won't you just be honest?"

"It's not like that. She's my hime, and I'm her guard."

Zenitsu nodded. "Yeah, yeah, but she's never treated you like that. Ayame-chan's always treated you as Tanjirou, you know."

"That..."

His protest died in his throat.

That was true. Since the moment she met him again on Mount Fujikasane, they had been standing on equal ground. Tanjirou and Ayame, not Kamado-kimi and O-Ayame-hime.

Zenitsu knocked his shoulder against Tanjirou's. “She'll need all the luck she can get, either way,” the blonde said lightly. “Inosuke and I already gave her good luck kisses, but don't lag behind too much. I'm sure it'll mean a lot coming from you.”

Tanjirou gaped. “Wh-When did you…!”

Zenitsu laughed. “Ayame-chan's right. Your situational awareness is terrible.” He tipped the rest of his sake into Tanjirou's cup. It almost sloshed over. “Drink up! Then you won't chicken out.”

Zenitsu stood, stretching his arms up. His hands landed on his hips.

“Y'know, the idea of you finding happiness before still irritates me a bit,” his eyebrow twitched, “but if it's you and Ayame-chan, I can't help but root for you guys. I guess it's 'cause you're my best friends.”

Warmth that had nothing to do with sake bloomed in Tanjirou's chest.

Zenitsu hadn't known they were kuge and buke. Even then, he was still rooting for them. He didn't understand how different their stations in life were, but maybe it didn't really matter. Not when they were this far away from Okutama.

Tanjirou gazed down at his sake dish, then drained it. It still burned, and it was bitter and unpleasant, but he felt a little more ready to face things.

“Help me up,” he bade.

Zenitsu grinned. “Over to your hime, ne? Come on, slowpoke.”

It was easy enough for Zenitsu to elbow his way through the small crowd. They almost seemed to part, especially when they saw Tanjirou.

Ayame was laughing about something with Aoi and Genya. She didn't laugh loudly, but her shoulders shook with mirth. Tanjirou kept his eyes on her sunflower clip – the sunflower clip he gifted her. The gift she accepted, even though it was far beneath her station. A hime should be adorned in fine silver and gold, not cheap copper and brass

You're beautiful.

“Ayame,” he called out.

She turned towards him, a question in her eyes.

His hand cupped her jaw, keeping her head still. Her eyes widened as he ducked in close and pressed his lips to her cheek.

Cheers and catcalls erupted around them, but all of Tanjirou's senses were honed in on the feeling of her cheek against his lips. Embarrassment and suzuran mingled as Ayame went completely still.

“Tanjirou, what – ?”

“For good luck,” he echoed, reluctantly pulling away.

Blue met red.

Her eyelids fluttered, her cheek growing warm beneath his fingers.

Still beautiful.

“As a… friend?” she said hesitantly.

He smiled, pulling his hand away. His fingers hooked in her kumihimo cords, thumb brushing over the one he had made with Zenitsu and Inosuke.

“As your friend,” he agreed.

After all, kuge or not, she would always be his hime.

[hailsatanacab]

A Persuasive Argument - dpxdc

"Great!" Danny says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. The dinner table falls silent as everyone looks towards him. It's a full house today and, honestly, Danny's a little nervous. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I gathered you here today."

"It's dinnertime. In our house." Duke mutters, while doing a very bad job of concealing his yawn. He holds his fork poised over the braised beef, but, just like everyone else, still looks towards Danny before tucking in. It's intriguing enough to wait.

"Yeah, no one misses Alfie's dinner." Dick says, with a brilliant smile that Danny can't help but return.

"Precisely! What better time to talk to you all than when you're all actually here!"

"Wait, I thought you came round to work on our English essays?" Tim asks, blinking owlishly.

"I'm afraid I've lured you here under false pretences, Tim."

"This is where I live."

"I would still really appreciate help on that essay though, I mean, what the hell is Hamlet even about? I just don't get that old time-y language, like 'Hark! A ghost hath killed me!' - absolute rubbish, what does that even mean?"

"The ghost never kills anyone in Hamlet, he's there to tell Hamlet that he was murdered. Have you actually read it?"

"No, but it sounds like you have. Tim, I want this guy to help me with my essay instead. I know for a fact that you haven't read Hamlet, either."

"So? We don't need Jason, I've read the Sparknotes."

"Hi Jason, I'm Danny, pleasure to meet you, summarise Hamlet in three sentences or less."

"Am I auditioning to help you write your essays? I can't believe you’ve gone through your whole school life without reading it, it’s good!"

"Hamlet, along with a number of other classics, was banned in our house because it portrayed ghosts as intelligent and sympathetic beings rather than evil, animalistic beasts. I didn’t even get to see The Muppet's Christmas Carol until last year with Tim! It was surprisingly good, and I hate Christmas because everyone always argued and it sucked. But we're getting off topic. I—"

"No, no, please go back to that, because what the fu—"

"Boys, please." Bruce interrupts, looking to the world as if he wants to hang his head in his hands. "Danny, you were about to say something?"

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Wayne! Thanks!"

"Please, call me Bruce."

"Well, that very succinctly brings me to my point, because I'd actually really like to call you dad."

Nobody says a word. Nobody even blinks, all as shocked as the other, watching open-mouthed as Danny pulls his laptop out from beside his chair. Bruce can definitely feel a headache coming on.

"Before you say anything, I've prepared a 69 slide PowerPoint presentation on why you, Bruce Wayne, should adopt me, Danny Last-Name-Pending. Please save your questions, comments, and verdict until the end, thank you."

[demaparbat-hp]

Would you ever share a piece of Lu Ten and Zuko having tea together in Zuko’s quarter’s? I think it would heal a part of me that was savagely destroyed as soon as I read the first chapter of For The Spirits.

There you are, Spitfire! I’ve been waiting for you!

Sorry I’m late.

A story of two (For the Spirits doesn't know how to heal—not yet).

[tapakah0]

Okay! I don't know where you got the idea from and my best guess is that your brain is connected to mine via bluetooth but.

Me and Hoddie have a royal au and your animation made me think of it again.

Nothing crazy special, but...ah...I should probably give a little context yeah...hmm.

Uh, okay. There's a kingdom. whose king and queen have died, leaving behind several possible heirs who are not their direct children. Right now, the king's first general is sitting on the throne, because the power of the army is, you know, a pretty powerful argument in a fight for the throne, right? This creepy regent is Cass. And Cass came to power thanks to Hoddie, who's basically the king's heir too, but she's pretty distant and her chances of the throne are quite slim. This has made her a professional rat and back stabber. The whole palace is busy weaving intrigue and destroying each other in a competition for power. Contests in cunning and sneakiness. A maximally intellectually uncomfortable environment in general.

Until Hoddie finds the true heiress. The king's blood daughter, to whom the throne should rightfully belong.

Problem? The problem is that the heiress needs to be two years older to be old enough to rule. And Hoddie and Cass' goal is to make sure she lives to that age in an environment where every other person wants to frame or kill her.

That heiress is you, Tap. But we couldn't think of what you'd look like in this au ahaha.

MHHMMM I SEE ONCE IN A WHILE BRAIN BLUETOOTH IS A GOOD THING you left me a window for my part and I grabbed this opportunity with sharp teeth Since there was no mention of my part, I have the audacity to add my own version. Did I understand correctly that my existence as an heiress was not known? It would be strange if the king was not looking for me, if I was the only heir (by blood), which means they were hoping for a new child, or already had plans for an indirect heir, or wanted to hide me. What other power is there, besides the king and the army, that holds the common people? Church. The king could have sent me to be trained as a priestess in order to gain support from them (either I was not considered worthy of receiving the throne in the future, which is why they preferred to hide me, or the king so badly needed their support that he was ready to sacrifice his only blood daughter) . Thus, from a young age, the beauty of a non-existent world somewhere beyond the heavens was drummed into my head and, in general, “God speaks all our actions.” I have an inconspicuous appearance, a position above a simple servant, but such priests are usually considered to be the daughters of high nobles, but not the king himself, which is why not everyone could know who I really was. Thus, they forgot about my existence ~ After the death of the king and all the heirs, the church quickly realized what to do next, and crushed me to itself, hiding me from the world until I reached the age of succession to the throne. (But children could take the throne under a regent. Could Hoodi become my regent as one of the older contenders for the throne?) So, back to the turmoil. Hoodie found me at church. Since childhood, my worldview could have changed greatly under the influence of the church, so, well, you will have to hammer a lot into my head, in addition to the throne’s education (You know... it's bit complicated to make a human sona not as a stupid little ball XDD... it literally can't get a shape at this point... maybe you will place a real bunny as the new king? It will be eating cabbage 24/7 and everyone will be happy)

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

When the girls are mean and the insides are out?

Mean Girls × Inside Out crossover where disgust is Regina's main emotion and everyone else is just her lackeys in an unhealthy boss & employee sorta relationship 👌

[unfinishedslurs]

gay bar (steddie)

“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”

Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar. 

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.

The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“

As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”

It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!

Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.

Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”

“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”

“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”

Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”

He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos. 

Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”

What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”

“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?

Eh. Doesn’t matter. 

“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”

He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”

“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”

“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”

He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”

“Which one?”

“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”

“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”

He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt. 

Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then. 

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole. 

“That can’t be right.”

“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out. 

“You were Prom King.”

“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh. 

Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”

Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”

Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks. 

“What?”

“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.” 

Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve. 

No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time. 

He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country. 

He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here. 

“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”

What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”

Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”

“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn. 

Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears. 

“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken. 

He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening. 

“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”

“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone. 

Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”

Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”

“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”

“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”

“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”

Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”

“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”

“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him. 

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone. 

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Steve.”

“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”

“You literally just—yeah, okay. Are you alone?”

“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”

“Munson?”

“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”

“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”

“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs. 

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”

“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone. 

“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“

“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt. 

“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters. 

“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”

“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”

“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”

“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car? 

“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho.  And that was before the melted flesh monster.”

Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”

Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”

“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”

Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”

“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”

Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute. 

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is. 

“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“

“That was him?”

“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”

“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says. 

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”

He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums. 

“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”

“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish. 

“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”

“Dude.”

Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham. 

“Well, Harrington?”

“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”

Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.

He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.

He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.

“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else. 

“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“

“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”

Eddie turns beet red in record time. 

“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again. 

Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles. 

“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”

Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”

“The what?”

Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands. 

Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut. 

Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”

Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest. 

Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”

Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”

“Steve!”

“You do!”

“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”

His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses. 

“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”

“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees. 

Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink. 

“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before. 

Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt. 

He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips. 

Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful. 

From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message. 

The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out. 

The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.

Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.

The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall. 

Robin has been similarly affected.

“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“We’re not that bad,” he says absently. 

“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”

She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it. 

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them. 

“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”

Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock. 

“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex. 

Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner. 

“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity. 

“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”

Eddie shakes his head dumbly. 

“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!” 

With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd. 

“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”

“I dunno, I think it might be working.”

“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument. 

“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve. 

Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who’s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“

“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”

Steve stares. 

“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”

“I mean, not really.”

“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”

“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”

Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder. 

“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”

“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”

“Thought I was fucking you.”

“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”

“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.

[diazsdimples]

Some of y'all are sleeping on classical music I fear, like nothing will get me more emotional than the final few bars of a piece with a full orchestra playing at top volume, bonus points if there's an organ or a choir involved

[bonkalore]

Sometimes a family is a couple of humans, a pig, and a giant demon!

Little orphan boy Danny spent most of his life without family OR friends up until this most recent year and he's a bit overwhelmed. I had in mind this might be for his bday, which he normally has negative feelings towards, but maybe changing how things were will help that along?

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

DINNER IS (finally) SERVED

3000ish words later and part 8 is here! hope you guys enjoy!

(p.s my headcanons explainations are in the tags if you're curious)

(p.p.s credit also goes to @rin-solo for the first headcanon )

the post/thread that started this whole au

dinner scene: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

there's a masterlist now!

*odysseus is making his way to the dining hall, while athena and poseidon are following behind*

poseidon: *looking around at the decorations/tapestry dotted around*

poseidon: *see’s a tapestry of what looks to be a very much younger odysseus in full king & armour attire*

poseidon: *stops walking, and turns to look at the actual odysseus in front of him, then back at the tapestry*

poseidon: *to odysseus with a sardonic tone* do your weavers like making you look like a boy, or was that a decision you made to make yourself look younger?

odysseus: *pauses his walking to see what poseidon is talking about*

athena: *also pauses and turns to poseidon*

odysseus: *sees the tapestry in question*

odysseus: *sighs* of course you point that one out 

athena: *who knew odysseus before he was king*

athena: *glaring at poseidon* uncle, you shouldn’t make assumptions, especially when you don’t know the facts

odysseus: *pats athena on the shoulder as he passes her*

odysseus: it’s fine athena

odysseus: *next to poseidon and looking up at the tapestry* if you must know, that is actually the age i was. 

poseidon: *not believing him* yeah right, you couldn’t be older than fifteen in this

odysseus: *turns to him with a sharp look* you’re correct, i was fifteen

poseidon: *slightly wary of odysseus’ mood* so… you became king at fifteen? isn’t that a little bit young for a mortal to rule a kingdom?

odysseus: *turns back to the tapestry* i was already the king, i was actually crowned when i was thirteen

poseidon: *shocked and confused* why would a child be given a kingdom to run?

odysseus: *looks down with a sad smile, at the memory of his father telling him about him losing his mind, and how sorry he was to place such a huge responsibility on his young son’s shoulders*

odysseus: well, i had no choice, but i would do it again if i had to… 

odysseus: *turns to athena* besides, i had athena to help guide me

athena: *smiles with a nod at odysseus*

odysseus: *starts walking in the direction of the dining hall again* anyway…enough of that, can we please just make our way to the dining hall now

*they all continue making their way down the hall*

poseidon: *notices a stain on the floor tiles not far in front of them*

poseidon: *points* i think your servants missed a spot

athena & odysseus: *both look to where he’s pointing*

athena: *chuckles to herself in knowing*

odysseus: *smirks* 

poseidon: *sees both their expressions, and is confused* 

odysseus: oh that..oh don’t worry it’s clean

odysseus: *shrugs* it’s just so hard to get bloodstains out of white titles

poseidon: *wide eyed* blood?

odysseus: yeah.. not long after i finished with you, i arrived back on my island to find my palace overrun with 108…mutts… all vying for my wife’s hand. 

odysseus: *waving his hand like it was a simple issue* so i made sure to deal with them all myself… unfortunately one of them left a stain.

odysseus: -oh look we’ve made it

odysseus: hope we haven’t kept them too long

poseidon: *shocked at all the new odysseus lore he’s unlocked*

athena: *laughing at poseidon’s expression*

odysseus: *opening the door* come on let’s head in

poseidon: *shakes away the shock*

odysseus: *to poseidon* i guess it’s time to introduce you to my wife

*they all walk through the doorway into the dining hall*

*there penelope and telemachus both stand not too far from the dining table; which has quite the feast laid out, and from the steam coming off of it, it had not long be put there*

odysseus: *heads over to his son & wife*

odysseus: *looks at poseidon* poseidon, you’ve met my son telemachus before.

telemachus: *can barely keep in his excitement* 

telemachus: hi- i mean good evening lord poseidon, i’m so happ- grateful you accepted my father's invitation for dinner. 

telemachus: *puts his arm on his chest, and leans forward in a  bow of respect* i hope you enjoy the evening.

odysseus: *narrows his eyes at poseidon, silently threatening him to not be rude to his son*

telemachus: *looks back up at poseidon, smile on his face*

poseidon: *quickly nods his head in greeting to telemachus* good evening prince, your father tells me that this was all your idea 

telemachus: *raises a hand to nervously scratch under his chin* um… yes i guess it was

poseidon: well then, thank you for the idea to invite me.

telemachus: *hand leaves his chin and a big smile breaks out* well of course! you are my father’s friend after all!

poseidon: *eye twitches before he quickly composes himself* 

poseidon: yes… friend.

odysseus: *coughs* yes and now that you’ve both reacquainted yourselves again… telemachus why don’t you go speak with athena for a moment

telemachus: sure!

*telemachus makes his way to athena, and they start talking amongst themselves*

odysseus: *puts his arm around penelope’s waist* now, please let me introduce you to my wife; the queen of ithaca, penelope. 

penelope: *doesn’t bow like telemachus, but nods in greeting* welcome to our palace lord poseidon

poseidon: *nods back* thank you for having me queen penelope

penelope: *smiles but her eyes have a certain glint to them* 

penelope: my husband has told me all about your part in his journey home to us

poseidon: *totally not panicking a little* uh-

penelope: *glint leaves her eyes, but her smile remains*

penelope: -and also how you have helped out on his and my son’s fishing trips lately.

penelope: of course, i would also like thank you for taking the time to attend tonight

poseidon: sure… no problem?

odysseus: great, everyone has met everyone! 

odysseus: *to everyone* now, shall we sit down and eat the lovely feast the cooks have made us, before it gets cold?

odysseus: *moves to pull out one of the chairs at the head of the table for penelope as he normally does, when he notices that, there is only one chair instead of two*

odysseus: *looks up at the table and sees a piece of parchment with ‘mother’ written on it* 

odysseus: huh?

telemachus: *makes his way over to his father* oh! there’s a different than usual seating plan for tonight! i’ve put everyone's names where they should sit.

odysseus: *smiles at telemachus* oh ok, sure!

odysseus: well, i guess i should look for mine then, hey?

telemachus: yes, and please everyone else too!

*everyone makes their way to the table to see where they’re sitting (even though three of them already know)*

odysseus: *sees the parchment with ‘father’ on it* 

odysseus: *expecting to have either athena or telemachus next to him*

odysseus: *watches as athena stands in front of the seat opposite him*

odysseus: *thinks it’s weird to put athena & poseidon together, but thinks telemachus has done is as they are uncle & niece*

odysseus: *then sees telemachus stood in front of the seat next to athena*

odysseus: wait-

poseidon: *sees his name and heads towards it, only to look up and see odysseus standing in front of the seat next to him*

poseidon: wait-

poseidon & odysseus: *both look at each other in horror that they're stuck next to each other all evening*

telemachus: *not noticing the looks of doom on their faces* isn’t this great? it’s a family dinner, so what better than friends sitting together? 

telemachus: *turning to penelope* sorry you’re by yourself at the head of the table though mother

penelope: *smiles and waves her hand* i don’t mind

penelope: anyway, let's sit and eat!

*everyone but odysseus and poseidon sit down. both who have a death grip on the back of their seats*

penelope: *clears her throat* odysseus, lord poseidon… would you both please sit down.

odysseus: *snaps out of his staring at poseidon* 

odysseus: uh sure…

odysseus: *sits down and look back to poseidon, nodding his head at poseidon’s seat in the motion for him to also sit down*

poseidon: *still doesn’t sit*

odysseus: *a millisecond of a flash of red eyes* 

poseidon: *sits*

odysseus: *internally to himself* oh this is gonna be a long evening

odysseus: *to everyone* ok, everyone dig in!

odysseus: *to poseidon* can you get what you want for yourself, mighty sea god? or do you need a mortal’s help?

poseidon: *grabbing a lamb chop off a platter and tearing into it savagely in defiance*

odysseus: *rolls his eyes at poseidon, but goes to place a filet of fish on his plate*

*everyone has been eating and talking*

poseidon: *looks at penelope (who is talking to telemachus & athena) and then looks at odysseus*

poseidon: *thinking and then looks back to penelope*

odysseus: *to poseidon* is there a reason you keep looking at my wife?

poseidon: *jumps at little at being caught looking* 

poseidon: *turns to odysseus* oh do not worry yourself, i have no interest in your wife

odysseus: *unimpressed* why do you keep looking at her then?

poseidon: im..curious 

odysseus: *narrowing his eyes* about?

poseidon: normally you mortal men choose women younger than them for their wives… yet clearly your wife is; from my estimates… about a decade older than you

poseidon: *now with his hand under his chin, leaning on the table* 

poseidon: do you perhaps…prefer older women odysseus?

odysseus: *hands tighten in grip around his cutlery*

poseidon: *notices odysseus hasn’t responded yet*

poseidon: i’m right aren’t -

odysseus: no.

odysseus: *his eyes may not be red, but are clearly full of anger*

poseidon: *eyes widen in worry* whoa whoa! no need to get angry, it’s just a simple observation…. anyone if they pay attention can see the age difference

poseidon: *moves his hand to flick his hair back over his shoulder* it’s not a bad thing

odysseus: *takes a breath in to calm down and then slowly releases it*

odysseus: we are- were the same age… physically at least

poseidon: *confused* i don’t follow

odysseus: *looks at poseidon* during the 10 years it took for me to get home… i found myself stuck on a goddess’ island for 7 of them…

poseidon: ok…

odysseus: *closes his eyes* caly- the goddess had full control over everything on the island… her magic influenced everything… including a mortal's ability to age.

poseidon: so you didn’t-

odysseus: -age? yeah

odysseus: *sighs and opens his eyes* when i realised i wasn’t… i- i- 

odysseus: lets just say i didn’t handle it well

poseidon: *blinks at this new information* oh

odysseus: yep ‘oh’ indeed… 

odysseus: *looks back at poseidon*

odysseus: didn’t you think it was odd that i looked exactly the same when we met again, almost 10 years after our first meeting?

poseidon: in my defence… i was angry and trying to kill you, i wasn’t really paying attention to how you looked

odysseus: *rolls his eyes* i guess that's true

telemachus: uh lord poseidon? may i ask you a question?

poseidon: *happy to not continue his conversation with odysseus*

poseidon: *to telemachus* ask away prince of ithaca

telemachus: is it true that you gave achilles his horses balius & xanthus?

poseidon: *amazed at telemachus’ knowledge* 

poseidon: not directly… but yes i am the reason he came to acquire them. you see i gave them to his father peleus, as a wedding gift for his wife thetis…

*poseidon continues to tell the tale, and odysseus speaks with athena and penelope while more time passes*

*the meal is continuing smoothly as can be*

poseidon: *notices that odysseus has only been eating the fish. not touching a single bit of pork, beef or lamb that's also on the table* 

poseidon: *who has continuously eaten all meats available*

poseidon: *to odysseus* is there something i should know about the meat?

odysseus: huh?

poseidon: *points at the selection of meat in question* what's wrong with the meat? you’ve only touched the fish.

poseidon: if i hadn’t seen the others eat it, i’d worry you’d asked your cooks to poison it or something. 

odysseus: *raised eyebrow* poison won’t hurt you though? 

odysseus: *pointing a fork at him* also, why do you care about my eating habits?

poseidon: *frowning at the fork* i don’t, i’m just-

odysseus: curious? poseidon, i thought you were the god of the sea, not curiosity…

poseidon: *huffs* forget it-

odysseus: i can’t

poseidon: *now his eyebrow is raised* you…can’t?

odysseus: *now using the fork to push the food on his plate around* i can’t stomach eating lamb, pork or beef anymore

poseidon: *forever confused by odysseus* uh why?

odysseus: *gives poseidon a ‘do i really have to explain everything?’ look*

poseidon: *just stares*

odysseus: *once again sighing because of poseidon* well i thought you’d understand lamb… after the whole sheep incident with… your son.

odysseus: then after i escaped you with the wind bag-

poseidon: *rolls his eyes at the memory*

odysseus: we wound up on the sorceress circe’s island… where she turned my men to pigs. 

odysseus: i managed to convince her to turn them back, but it now feels weird to eat pork

odysseus: as for beef, short story is my men ignored my warnings and killed the sacred cattle of the sun god… so yeah beef is a no go for me also. 

poseidon: *wondering how one mortal managed to interact with so many gods on a journey to get home*

poseidon: *laughs at odysseus* and you’re letting that affect your eating habits? i expected you to be stronger than that odysseus

odysseus: *narrows his eyes at poseidon* oh just like how you let my handling of your trident, affect you into doing as i say?

poseidon: *now glaring back* 

poseidon: *turns away from odysseus* whatever, more meat for me

*dinner continues, with telemachus asking poseidon more questions. poseidon loving the interest in him and telelmachus’ knowledge, answers the all the questions with surprising enthusiasm*

*eventually what was once a giant feast of food has nearly been cleared from the table, thanks to having two gods eating most of it*

telemachus: have you enjoyed yourself so far lord poseidon? 

telemachus: *smiling* it’s been really fascinating and fun to learn so much more about you

poseidon: *almost letting a small smile appear on his face in return*

poseidon: *instead just nods* yes, it certainly has been an interesting & knowledgeable evening

telemachus: what about the seating, was it a good idea to put you with my father?

poseidon: *wants to answer no, but feels a kick from under the table. clearly from odysseus*

poseidon: yes, you came up with an ok-

odysseus: *gives another kick* 

poseidon: -great idea

telemachus: *laughs in happiness* 

telemachus: oh but i can’t take all the credit

odysseus: *raises an eyebrow in curiosity* 

athena: *who is sipping wine next to him*

athena: *slightly chokes* wai-

odysseus: *suspicious* son, you must make sure to tell us who else to thank for this

telemachus: *not understanding the bombshell he’s about to drop* oh athena actually came up with the idea!

athena: *suddenly nervous with the two very intense stares directed at her*

athena: w-well it was just a suggestion really…

telemachus: no ‘thena! remember you said as it’s a family dinner, friends should sit with friends!

odysseus: *to athena with the fakest smile* oh athena, how considerate!

penelope: *who has been quiet this whole exchange*

telemachus: *as if he hasn’t already unknowingly thrown one person to the wolves* but i of course had to run it by mother first, as she was helping me with all the planning!

penelope: *eyes have totally not widened*

telemachus: she said it was a great idea!

odysseus: *now to penelope* oh my dear wife, a great idea eh?

poseidon: *just chugs back his cup of wine at the revelations*

*after a awkward moment (at least for 4 of them) they continue on finishing the meal*

*eventually the food is finished and the dinner has come to an end, everyone has moved away from the dinner table and are now sitting on cushion chairs or standing around them talking amongst themselves*

poseidon: *looking out the window seeing just how dark the night sky now is* 

poseidon: well this has been a lovely evening, but it is getting late and i have been away from the sea for as long as i can.

poseidon: *turning to penelope and nodding his head in actual respect* queen penelope, thank you for your hosting

poseidon: *without nodding at them* athena, odysseus… good night.

*before poseidon can turn to bid telemachus good night, the prince runs out the room*

telemachus: *yelling before he leaves the room* please lord poseidon, wait a moment! i forgot something!

poseidon: *turns to look at odysseus in confusion* 

odysseus: *just shrugs also confused* 

poseidon: *turns back to the door, telemachus long gone* uh sure.

*not long later telemachus runs back into the room dishevelled but holding something in his hand*

telemachus: *walks up to poseidon* 

telemachus: *bows and holds out something covered in a silk cloth to him*

poseidon: uh-

telemachus: it’s a gift! i’m not expecting anything in return, and i’m sure you have better things… but i saw it and thought you’d like it

poseidon: *blinks, but takes the gift from telemachus’ hands*

poseidon: *carefully unties the silk cloth*

poseidon: *breathes in sharply*

telemachus: *not sure if that's a good or bad reaction* uh if you don’t like it that's fin-

poseidon: *holds his hand to stop telemachus* 

poseidon: prince of ithac-

telemachus: telemachus- sorry for interrupting. please my lord, call me telemachus

poseidon: …telemachus. thank you, this is a very thoughtful gift. 

poseidon: i will cherish it.

penelope & odysseus: *curious over what's got the god of the seas ‘cherishing’ something*

athena: *small smile as she knows*

*penelope & odysseus move closer to poseidon who is still staring down at his gift. once close enough they can see in his hand is a a handcrafted glass/crystal hippocampus*

*poseidon ended up wrapping it back in the silk cloth, and placing it in his chiton. He then thanked telemachus again and bid him good night & farewell. odysseus offered to walk back to the cove with him, but poseidon waved him off and told him to stay with his family*

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 84

Amity Park absolutely adores her little ghostling, her little Gatekeeper who was of her own ectoplasm, reborn from her own blood in the center of her new heart. She absolutely adores her baby, practically a newborn, being only a year dead! 

So of course she had to gush and boast about her little phantom to the other city spirits! They all got together to gossip sometimes after all. And both Smallville and Fawcett started to gush about their own little ones back! 

Gosh they should set up a playdate at some point, her little phantom could use some friends in the mortal realm. Well some more friends, three is obviously not enough. Oh, Gotham and Bludhaven have come over as well! It’s a playdate then! 

Now if only each of their world’s timelines were synced up, but at least everyone is around the same age! 

[kaiminluu]

the party as greasers is something that can be so personal

[kyomon0]

Fantasy AU:

Most wanted, dead or alive, Sorcerer!Obito. (Evil or not so, up to you.) Fun, awesome, amazing.

Except nobody can find the fucking guy. Very few ever get a glimse of him, and frankly, witnesses usually die soon after.

So where is he?

On Kakashi's shoulders. Because he's a cat. He is that grumpy little motherfucker that swipes and hisses at anyone rude to Kakashi. Everyone who's heard of Kakashi has heard of his angry little familiar. Most notably the list of ankle biting victims.

Is Kakashi aware that it's Obito? Mr criminal guy? Probably. Is Obito aware of that? No, probably not.

bonus: when Obito's away doing whatever the fuck, Kakashi likes to talk about him in the same way people talk about their pets with human names. Like a human roommate. But everyone's already aware that Obito (Tobi) is a cat. When people question Kakashi about it, he just looks at them like they're the weird one.

[horsechestnut]

AU to add to the list of AUs I'll never write: All of the Robins are de-aged to the age they were when they became Robin. Their memories are also reset to that point, and somehow they're in their Robin suits.

So you have a 16 year old Steph, desperately trying to wrangle 4 feral children who look nearly identical and won't tell her their names because "you do know what a secret identity is, don't you Stephanie?"

[demaparbat-hp]

Regarding the Cherry Wine Incident.

[magicpiano]

One thing that I think most 'Tim joins the batfam early' fics miss is that Tim, a very intelligent and independent child who has been doing a dangerous hobby for years, would hate being adopted actually. All the new rules meant to keep him safe? At best annoying, at worst he feels like he is in prison.

To Tim, he just lost his freedom, privacy, and independence, no matter how good the batfam is in reality.

"I need to tell you when I am leaving the house, where I am going and how long I will be gone? The bare minimum parents typically ask from their middle school aged children? No."

Normal good responsible parenting would be torture for Tim.

[galactic-rhea]

Wow you guys won't even let padmé take matters on her own death because it's too selfish because she's a mother and of course she needs to live only for the kids, how dare she die, wow the woman has kids and she's still too sad to keep going wowwowow

Her death could've been written better like almost everything in sw but i honestly think story-wise it works better than 'and then she spend the rest few years of her life depressed and sad in alderaan' it's anticlimatic and frankly that's even more of a disservice to her character, and frankly sadder because it prolongates her suffering but whatever that's not even my point! My point is that padmé chosing to die instead of 'chosing to go on bc she's a mum and all mums are like that' goes against this hyper idealized and flanderized idea of mothers's inmaculate self-sacrificed perfection that give everything for the kids, just let padmé be human goddamnit.

The amounts of stress she went through these last few months, then weeks, AND THEN DAYS?? You have an idea??? No, I actually hope none of us have an idea of that like damn, I just feel so bad for her, it was hell. Her husband choked her, while pregnant, after he murdered hundreds of people, in literal Hell Planet. And then gives birth, and we can assume it was a stress-induced birth because having been choked, and then she dies out of the extreme amount of sadness and loses the will to live, she dies at the exact moment 'anakin' completely dies and full-Vader surges and that actually is meant to show you how the survival of one was key for the other, but that's not motherly enough, that's not what a cool brave strong woman would do, that's not what tiktok-feminism is! Because it's stupid and weak!

The fact that after having to re-take over her own palace, after so many many many assesination attempts since age 14, a literal war, and having been force-choked by Anakin on a planet with toxic air, and giving natural birth, the thing that really killed her was her choice because her heart got broken is actually meaningful for the fairytale-like story, and people are just stuck on how dare she die while having kids, that's so selfish and cold and uncaring, she would be a terrible mother. Ahhhhhhhh, I'm going insane.