#int: pride

[xenodile]

Oh yeah, I never posted this commission I got a few months back of Alisaie and Byl in that meme lesbians pose that was going around, with the caveat that Alisaie is about to fold trying to lift her seven and a half foot tall roegadyn GF that's like three times her weight.

I found the artist on tumblr but all contact with them was via email so I can't for the life of me remember their URL, and I never got an @ so I don't think they publicly posted it either. I'm very grateful to them all the same and I love this piece.

[heartsdefine]

@hoboblaidd:

(cont'd) ⇉ ❝ i'm doing some of my best work here and you don't even have the decency to roll your eyes at me. honestly it's hurtful. ❞ Solas barked a laugh despite himself, shaking his head. “Yes, it is very impressive,” he said, dodging the sear of an energy barrage that flew slightly too close to his head. He normally didn’t take pleasure from a fight, focusing on the necessity of the battle rather than its excitement. But after crawling through hot metal and sand for the better part of a day, the unrelenting sun straining even the strongest of his sunblocking spells, Solas was just happy to see it done. Someone else could mourn these Venatori dead. His only thought was for dinner, and shaking the biting crystals of sand from his clothes. “For a Circle mage,” he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Which he rolled once for good measure.

        “Now, that's much better,” Rosalind said with a smirk, as she moved to stow her staff again. “I love a good back-handed compliment, even coming from an apostate.” The Hissing Wastes were not a forgiving place to travel, that much was true. Though the sunshine didn't bother her nearly so much as the sudden cold when all the light went out of the sky. Shivering slightly and clutching her clock tighter around her, she kicked over one of the Venatori corpses, wrinkling her nose. “We should make camp nearby.” A pause. “Not here, though. Too much clean-up for my tastes.” The Tevinter cultists could come and collect their own dead, as far as she was concerned.

[auricbound]

Behold, a Botanical Charge Triad!

violet :   how does your muse respond to betrayal ?

chamomile :   what is your muse likely to take away from a painful experience ?   are they one to be haunted by adversity ,   or to use what they’ve gone through to become stronger ?

amaryllis :   what is something or someone that your muse takes pride in ?   how do they express that pride ?

(For any verse, feel free to split the answers too haha)

botanical hc meme ! | accepting. dear god quen not the THREEFER.

— ☉ —

violet.

horrible. in any verse, in any time period. he's really, really bad with dealing with betrayal - for him, it feels like an incredibly personal attack for someone to have gained his trust and then subsequently break it. it's even worse, though, because despite that wishful expectation for people to just stick to their word, he also EXPECTS betrayal in the same breath. again, doesn't matter what time or verse. hali - humility - did a lot of damage to him as a child at pretty much every point via the chaotic corruption he experienced. a lot of his lifetime has been spent unable to discern reality from his fantasies, and this kind of gets a lot worse when taking into account how often he dissociates and leaves someone else in charge of functioning for the day - usually sephtis, because the indifference lets them survive better. he hallucinates other people around him and other people talking to him. it's something that reinforces his lies to himself ; surely people can't actually tolerate him that much, they're just waiting until he finally gives them a reason to leave him behind ! and of course, when he DOES get betrayed, it leads to an intense affirmation of his deepest fears that then, in turn, adds to hali's gradual corruption, continuing the cycle. he's really bad at dealing with it. as an adult he starts to get a little better, but that's ONLY with his support system around - and for five years between the promised day and him finally going to xing to be with ling, he significantly LACKS that support system. yeah he just doesn't do well with it at all.

chamomile.

same thing here - any time, any verse, he'll take away extremely bitter things regarding his most painful experiences. while the smartest parts of him can and DO file away more important lessons from being hurt by people or things, the rest of him that hates the feeling of being hurt instead stores away the information like some kind of plague that continues to destroy his insides. the transmutation, the incident in briggs, his wounds from the promised day - all of them are horrible, HORRIBLE experiences in his head, and they're ones that his brain likes to REPEAT at the most inopportune of times. the briggs scar especially. even long after it's healed he still remembers the feeling of ice filling his body and the sensation of cement in his heart while he tried to stay alive. it actually keeps getting worse for him, sometimes - he'll straight up have moments where he gets stuck with phantom sensations of the whole thing even IF hali isn't the one specifically triggering all of it. sometimes he'll have the worst pains in the metal limbs. sometimes he'll have the worst pains around his heart, which was his most damaged organ to begin with. he really never catches a break. eventually his trauma gets to a point where he physically CANNOT handle any more of it - and that's when one of the others is thrown into the mix so he can let them handle the burden. usually sephtis handles everything - but honey is responsible for keeping him sane despite having been targeted by a serial killer while he was crossdressing that one time. they kind of carry that trauma so he can just forget it ever happened. his mental state is ... weird, like that.

amaryllis.

ah shit its lairus now. because goldie had an issue with understanding and dealing with his pride in HEALTHY ways - aka not letting himself be tortured by humility for having a natural human experience and not letting himself grow too manic in said experience - we're going to lairus now, who is eternally 34 and NOT constantly hounded by his phantom twin for feeling things. he's ... weird about his pride, though. he has his small, brief moments of enjoying himself and being proud of the things he's capable of, but it's very clear he still has SCARS regarding his childhood and struggles to maintain said pride for a normal period of time. he'll have one moment where he boasts and then immediately cringe at himself and "calm down" - aka he'll just quiet himself and give a small, bitter smile before doing whatever else he needs to do. it goes hand in hand with how obnoxiously "humble" he can be - which is more sad than anything. he's getting better, though ! slowly. as slow as someone who's scattered across time and space can be, anyways.

[volivolition]

[imagines animatics] cool. anyway. [start crying]

[troublcmakcrs]

"'God hates fags?' Me and God both. I'm sick of you people."

[aropride]

i feel like dye hair is alwyas in your to do lists. do u just never get around to it or is it a daily thing

LMAO i just do it a lot cuz my hair is kinda fried rn so dye has been fading super quick (and also i keep getting bored w it and im trying 2 prevent a second bald era by just dying it different colors)

[avalior]

grey and thumper tag drop !

[gyancareer]

gyancareer

[heartsdefine]

@dalishborne — starter call / accepting!

        “Go ahead. Be honest.” The newly crowned Inquisitor gestures to the eye-patch now adorning her face, clearly proud of the design and not at all desiring honesty. “The rhinestones. Too much?”

[punkitt-is-here]

Had to write a three-page screenplay script for a "Discovery" for class. Didn't have any further instructions. It's super off-the-cuff, but I wanted to share it. Happy pride <3

INT. COLLEGE DORM - NIGHT.

A college student sits at his desk, sketching. It's a one room apartment, and his roommate is sound asleep. He's sketching in the light of a single lamp, being quiet. The student, GABE (male, 19) is drawing a cartoon version of himself. He's studying outfits from a fashion catalogue, drawing himself in different ones. He bites the tip of his pencil, not feeling the piece he's working on. He rolls his chair back, reeling away from the desk. Gabe puts his hands in his hair, leaning back and looking at the ceiling. He lets out a long exhale. It's late.

After a moment, he rolls back to the desk. Tapping the pencil to his head, he flips through the pages. It's an unremarkable task, stopping on a random page. Oh, the women's fashion section. It has simple, practical outfits for girls, including a jean skirt. Gabe peers at it. Fuck it, it's late. He erases the pants of one of his drawings and pencils in a skirt instead.

He pauses.

He stares at it.

Something here is weird.

He goes to erase it, but once he does, he just draws it in again. This time with more care. More detail. He stares at it again.

Tears well up in his eyes.

GABE

(whispering)

…what the fuck?

Gabe, confused, touches his hand to his eye. He looks at the tear on his finger. Huh? He stares at the drawing again. He looks back at his roommate, sound asleep. He's having some sort of moment, but he has to be quiet. He frantically looks back at his sketchbook.

GABE

(whispering)

Uh…

A beat.

Gabe starts drawing himself again. In the women's fashion this time. It's like a whole different world. He's drawing like crazy. It's all flowing out of him. He draws another.

And another. Slowly, details start to adjust in his art.

Longer hair. Longer eyelashes. Daintier poses. More smiles.

He's got tears running down his face, but he's not wearing any emotion. He's not sure what to think.

CUT TO

An indeterminate amount of time later. Gabe stares at his notebook. It's full. It's lots of drawings of him.

As…well, he guesses as a girl. But he's not one. He flips through the book again, then turns towards the dark window his desk resides next to. He looks at himself. Patchy facial hair and a shaggy haircut.

CUT TO

INT. DORM HALLWAY - NIGHT

Gabe rushes down the hallway, looking frantic. He's carrying a bag.

INT. DORM BATHROOM - NIGHT

It's quiet inside the bathroom. No one else occupies the space. It's just him and his reflection. His reflection? Maybe their reflection. Her reflection? No, that's not right. Is it right? Gabe stares at himself intently. The whirring of a trimmer cuts through the silence. He brings it up to his facial hair, shearing away a week's worth of fuzz.

He looks at himself like it's not him in the mirror. He holds a hand up to his face, feeling it.

It's not enough. Not yet. He has to know.

He gets out his phone and starts typing.

HOW TO SHAVE FACIAL HAIR OFHG

He frantically types, misspelling. He backspaces like his life depends on it.

HOW TO SHAVE FACIAL HAIR OFF ALL

THE WAY

He quickly scans an article and then gets to work, pulling some miscellaneous bathroom supplies out of his bag. Shaving cream. A razor. Gifts for cleaning up at college. He wets his face. Applies the shaving cream. Does careful strokes down his cheeks and neck. Slowly, someone reveals themselves.

They lean down, splashing themselves with water. They look up, and it's a different person. She's completely shaved her facial hair off. Gabe hasn't seen herself like this since she was in freshman year of high school, before facial hair was even an option. She reaches up and touches her face, smooth to the touch. She stares, enamored. A moment. She grabs a towel and dries her face off, and then looks again. She's so…different. But that's her! That's Gabe! Is it Gabe? She doesn't know anymore. A close up to her eyes. Her nose. Her lips. Her neck. It's all so new. She starts laughing. She laughs, and tears well up in her eyes a little. She laughs some more. In moments, she's full on crying tears of joy. She doesn't know why. But she is! That's her!

CUT TO

INT. SECONDHAND - DAY

Gabe is at a clothing rack, searching for something. She looks around, a little embarrassed. She browses for a moment before finding what she wants. She passes by some more racks carefully, trying not to be too obvious. She slips into the changing room, then locks the door.

GABE

…okay.

Gabe unbuckles her belt. In a moment, she's wearing black leggings. She hikes them up, then unclips a gaudy skirt from the clothes-hanger. She stares at it, a little scared of it and what it represents. She bites her lip. She stretches it out and then steps in. She looks up at the mirror.

Oh shit, that's her! That's her!

Gabe is wearing a long, patterned skirt and a tee-shirt. The colors don't match at all, and the patterns don't either.

She looks a bit like a yard sale of a person. But it's her!

She spins around, watching the fabric flow out from her hips in a whirlwind of stripes and insignia. She laughs again.

This is her! This is her!

This is her!

[starscelly]

wait if they’re also auctioning off sticks for pride night why didn’t they have pride tape askxbwjcn

[blcssom]

"my crush on you? jesus, your delusions are really starting to get out of hand, wolfe." a hyper-fixation, certainly. borderline obsessive? maybe. but a crush? she'd never allow it. she breathes in deeply, letting the air collect in her cheeks and holding it while she considers how much she actually plans to share with him. "i mean, he's the ceo of a multi-billion dollar company, max, what'd you think?" she misreads the change in tone, though, suddenly convinced he's underestimating her. "don't get me wrong, i could take care of it myself.... i've taken down men larger than him it's just a little.... complicated. and you're the only person i know who i could ask for something like this."

"i actually think you're very impressed, but you're too afraid to admit it because your fat crush on me will be revealed." maybe he was projecting, but he was happy to hide behind fake confidence if that meant getting under her skin. his favourite pastime. "he's your boss?" something inside of him switched. the reason for his anger, the reason for the terrible things he did. it related too closely to home, thinking about his father and how he took out his aggression on men like him in the still of the night. "does he often not take no for an answer? i mean, to others?"

[theslimeinthecorner]

I am now 20 because its my level up day yaaaaa ...

I swear if my int stat doesn't get boosted a good few

I SWEAR TO THE GODS ILL TAKE SOME ONES KNEE

[goobtopia]

crime and punishment [farleigh start]

!! 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!

based on this request

summary: after a dinner party at saltburn you confront your long time friend, farleigh, about his odd behavior surrounding felix’s new friend from oxford.

warnings: 18+, SMUT, f!reader, (kinda) p*rn without plot, kissing, praise kink, mentions of p in v sex, thigh riding, nipple play, dom!farleigh, wealthy reader, mention of bullying, swearing, farleigh is both mean and whiny you’ve been warned

[requests are open]

☆ masterlist ☆

-

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or keep giving me the silent treatment?” You crossed your arms in the entryway of Farleigh’s room. He refused to look up from his Dostoevsky summer reading or give you any kind of acknowledgment.

You sighed, finally entering the room so you could sit at the edge of his bed making sure to shut the door behind you. With you facing him and your legs tucked under your body, he obviously couldn’t focus on the passage enough to continue reading so he sighed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” This was classic Farleigh, so upset or so angry that he’d just shut it down instead. It was something of a compliment you guessed, when Farleigh didn’t care to hurt anyone with his words informed by his loathing his insults were quick and harsh. I once watched him send Gavey crying in the quad after spilling coffee on his lecture notes and heard he was in and out of the school counseler’s office after that.

“If this is about earlier…” You trailed off, unknowingly hitting the nail on the head for Farleigh and you jumped when his hard cover book made a deafening crack as it closed. “No, why would I be upset about earlier? It’s not like everyone has been up Oliver’s ass all semester, so much so that you take his side and make me look like a jackass in front of everybody.” He was calm, spoke in a sickly sweet voice as the book was discarded near his pillows.

You never pulled punches with Farleigh, he knew this, which is why he shouldn’t have been so surprised when you defended your actions, “Farleigh you made yourself look like an ass, like when everyone stopped laughing because it was literally painful to watch.” He ran a hand over his khaki colored corduroy pants, his fingers adorned with expensive silver rings, as he rested his ear against his shoulder. A sign he was licking his wounds after you walked out to check on Oliver leaving him alone to sing the rest of his shitty song.

“You get so… prideful around him, like you’re trying to prove something. I’ve never seen you like this.” The way Farleigh kept attacking Oliver was far from his usual pettiness, no Farleigh was always quick but even the butt of his jokes would find themselves laughing about it eventually. Here it was like he was taking everything just a step too far, you didn’t understand how Oliver got under his skin so badly.

Sure, he didn’t come from your world but it wasn’t like he was being a nuisance, there was no reason in your mind to embarrass him by picking a song for him that Farleigh was sure Oliver didn’t know. “Well, he’s a fucking creep. He’s sneaking around with Venetia and he’s cozying up to you lately, he had you using his lap as a couch coushin in there.” He looked disgusted by the thought.

You hadn’t thought anything of it honestly, if Venetia was settled in her brother’s lap in a platonic fashion you figured it was all in the spirit of the night. The closeness and camaraderie we found amongst yourselves in these nights, that was like tradition to you. “Farleigh…” You trailed in a tone reeking of disappointment in one of your best friends, “What? You don’t think so?” He quipped.

Your silence spoke for itself and he scoffed, “Well then you’re a fucking idiot.” Your voice, while not loud, cut through the air like a knife, “Hey. You do not speak to me like that.” You pointed your finger, straightening your back out. Next thing you know he’s pinning you down by your thighs, using this new leverage to lean into your face.

“What are you gonna do about it? Run and tell poor little orphan Ollie?” He nodded, silently coaxing an answer from you. “You’re being mean Farleigh.” You whisper, showing weakness for a moment not even thinking about the fact your friend doesn’t ever touch you like this. Somehow, it’s the least of your worries.

With a heaving chest he looks down at your lips, focusing in on them as they draw into a tight line with the silence. “I wouldn’t be so mean if you hadn’t been,” His tongue runs over his bottom lip. “…misbehaving.” You lost the ability to breathe for a moment, suddenly forced to face the lines that were most definitely being crossed. This was uncharted territory for the both of you.

One hand came up to your face, pressing his thumb lightly into the center of your chin making sure to slowly bring it up and gauge your reaction. His knuckle hooked over your bottom lip until the pad of his thumb grazed the wetness of your tongue. You closed your mouth around it instantly, earning a groan from the tall boy towering over you.

Swiftly he removed himself, pocketing his hands under your thighs and throwing your weight on top of his so you were open for him across the thick muscle of his leg. “You gonna be good for me?” You nodded, bracing yourself on his shoulders. “Yes, I am.” You said without hesitation, some new fire ignited you craved to fuel.

You were pulled by the nape of your neck to meet his lips in a fervent kiss pressing your whole body against his. Lips slid against each other as they danced in harmony, tongues exploring one another as you began grinding your hips against him hoping to relieve some of the pressure building in your core.

His free hand locked onto your hip to stall any movement as he pulled away from you, “Take it easy babe, just let me touch you.” You could’ve melted right there, his hand traveled up your nightgown and grazed over the seam on the side of your panties. “Oh really?” He sounded almost proud in his surprise at your lack of pants.

He explored further, reaching up to your right breast and grazing his nail against your nipple. Your hips stuttered involuntarily, amusement written on his face as he watched your face screw in pleasure. “F-fuck” Your voice cracked, feeling that stimulation go straight to your core.

“You gonna let me have a taste?” He pouted, twisting the nipple in between his fingers leaving you breathless and desperate for more. “Yes, fuck, please just put your mouth on me.” You whined, and Farleigh didn’t need to be asked twice. Your gown was ripped from your body leaving you in just a little pair of panties and nothing aside from your stark nakedness.

Of course, he had to take a moment to admire your body, so soft and beautiful, like unwrapping a gift he’s always yearned for. “Farleigh, please.” Your voice sounded pathetic almost, but you were worried if either one of you paused for too long you’d come to your senses and stop. And empty fear seeing as it would probably take an act of god to seperate the two of you at this moment.

“Shut up, I wanna see what you’ve been hiding from me all these years.” His hands explored practically every inch of you, his eyes grazing against your stomach, your breasts, you thighs. He couldn’t stop imagining what your hips might look like settled on top of his own, stuffed to the brim with his cock.

He couldn’t wait anymore, he unbuckled his silver and black belt, letting it hit the floor somewhere before jimmying them halfway off all with you in his lap. Now your sex was making indirect contact with a small sliver of his skin between his boxers and pants. “I’m gonna spend some time with these,” He began to explain, giving each breast a squeeze. “But you’re gonna get off on my thigh before I do anything else. Understand?” You nodded with confidence, hiding your dissapointment in him. All you wanted was for him to be inside you, tending to that most sensitive part of you and he was making you do it yourself.

But you could give him a show, make him so insatiable he’d have no choice but to turn you over and fuck you after seeing the way you grind into that muscle. “Yes, I understand. I’ll be good for you.” You cooed in your most sultry voice. It must’ve been an effective plan because his head dipped to tend to you almost instantly.

With lips and teeth scratching against the sensitive skin of your nipple, you felt like you were going crazy. You didn’t need to be reminded of you task because your hips did all the work for you at the feeling he provided. It was like your breasts had a direct line to your clit, making any friction against it double in intensity.

Your hips weren’t thrashing against him by any means but you were still racing to reach that high, something Farleigh helped along by bouncing his thigh against you. Farleigh switched breasts, leaving a free hand to guide your motions along him in frustration. “God I can’t wait to fuck you.” He humbled against your chest, “Been so good for me, haven’t you? My good girl.”

You barely registered the words, not that it would’ve changed anything. If being Farleigh’s good girl meant pleasure like this you didn’t care.

You were getting closer, mumbling harder as you threw your head back in pleasure. Farleigh could barely make out any of your words besides: fuck, please, so close; he guessed he didn’t need the details. He grabbed the middle fabric of your panties, pulling them to the side so your clit was bare and began to catch onto Farleigh’s boxers, creating a new devilish form of friction against that bundle of nerves.

“I’m gonna cum.” Your voice was light and broken. It had come embarrassingly fast but with Farleigh’s tongue flicking against the second most sensitive bundle of nerves, there was no way you could’ve helped it. No doubt it was boosting Farleigh’s ego, something that was far from necessary.

He lifted his head, keeping one hand aimed at the pleasure points on your chest, “Look at me. I wanna see that look in your eyes.” You sped up, keeping eyes contact with him as your jaw felt slack and that impossibly tight knot in your core finally broke, letting pleasure avalanche over your senses. Farleigh kept on you with that look of amusement at how quickly you came undone through his own manipulation.

You sadly clenched around nothing as your legs shook a bit and you slowly rode out the high, not wanting to keep the same pace now that you were so sensitive. Farleigh pulled you into another kiss, this one deeper but more sensual than before. There was no rush now, neither of was going anywhere.

“Fuck you’re never leaving this bed.” He confessed between kisses, promising you this wasn’t just a one-off thing. “Not until I’m finished with you.”

[despairs-memorial]

“Hardly, though if you are blind to your own charms then I can only offer some to allow you to see your own radiance for yourself.” Words did little to prove these sort of things for most people. If they did, there would be models that didn’t fret over their appearance as much as they did, though at the same time, he couldn’t deny being the same when his looks gave him his income. 

There’s a sense of relief to know that these clothes wouldn’t go to waste. Of course, there were more in his workshop that were around that size, and Shuicihi would be more than welcome to take all of them… granted that he took some time to show him how to bring out the full potential of all of them. 

“Good, such garments were made to be displayed by one with your charms. I am pleased that the enchantments will fully shine more so than they were able to before. I presume that your partner in either life or in the moment will be pleased to see such a visage the next you meet.” 

Looking over the rest of his workshop, the fashionista hums thoughtfully as he thinks of what sort of style he should go for next. While a darker academic style suited Shuichi quite well, there were times when such a thing would be wasted for the occasion.

A quiet 'thank you-' to Gundham at helping to adjust his cost some more, a smile widens on his face when the other praises his outfit so highly. "Y-You think so? Thank you so much, I'm very glad you think so...!" That made Shuichi love this outfit all the more, especially when Gundham began applying those rings and earrings on him: accessories he rarely ever wore.. He likes it...

"A model? Me? H-Hehe....you flatter me..." Being called pretty made the shy blush on his cheeks darken as he scratches his cheek. "O..Oh, thank you, I-I'm glad you think so...! But honestly, I would probably be far too nervous if it were anyone else... But I feel comfortable modeling for you like this, Gundham-senpai."

And he meant it. He would even be willing to model outfits again for him like this if he asked. Doing so, feels surprisingly very fun...! Then when Gundham offers the outfit to him, his eyes widen in surprise. "I can keep this?! Oh, then yes, please, thank you! I would love to keep this outfit! Ah, then I'll keep the clip one, too. Thank you...! I will definitely wear this out and about at the perfect chances I can. I'm so used to wearing much 'plainer' things, so it'll feel exciting to wear something more fashionable like this.."

Gundham was giving him such a great looking outfit, after all: he couldn't possibly let it go to waste!

[catharusustulatus]

Steddie Drabble, TW: child abuse.

Initially, Wayne doesn’t care for Steve. Calls him “the Harrington boy” or “Richard’s son” with contempt, asks if “Richard’s son” is coming over for dinner again and Eddie just rolls his eyes and says “yes, Wayne, STEVE is coming over at 7.” Wayne doesn’t like him because…well, he’s not stupid to judge a book by its cover, he thinks.

But the fifth time Harrington comes over, he brings a bouquet of flowers, and Eddie, well, his cheeks are redder than the spaghetti sauce Wayne’s been stirring, so that’s something.

And then the sixth time Steve comes over, he brings Wayne a Garfield magnet. It’s small, “found it at the thrifty mart with Robin, I’m sorry it’s not brand new…” Steve mumbles, and Eddie is wide eyed and smiling, and Wayne LOVES Garfield. He puts it on the fridge, pats Steve on the back, says “um, thank you son.”

They fall into a pattern, the three of them. Steve comes over for dinner every Friday night after work. He dresses clean and is polite to Wayne, helps with the dishes, sometimes brings bread rolls or licorice or beer or jokes. Eddie starts setting the table. Wayne starts laughing at the jokes. After Steve leaves, Wayne knows Eddie smiles himself to sleep. It’s different, now.

And then the next time Steve is supposed to come over for dinner, he doesn’t show. Eddie had been making macaroni and cheese all evening, grating the cheese carefully as he bopped his head to some metal song, cheerful, and then it was 7 and then it was 8 and then Wayne thought “maybe call him, Ed.”

Nobody answers. When they call again, nobody answers. And Wayne has a bad feeling about it.

It isn’t until almost 11, dinner cold and Eddie pacing, about to radio someone named Robin when Steve’s car pulls up, they know the lights so well. They run outside to greet him and Eddie freezes when Steve starts falling out of the drivers seat, face dark and pained. Wayne jumps into action. Wayne catches Steve and hauls him into the trailer, his living room, and oh god, he’s covered in bruises like he was put through Eddie’s cheese grater, and oh god, Eddie’s broken out into tears behind him.

Steve’s left eye is swollen shut, and his face is purple and bloody. His lip is split and his hair is wild, his shirt is torn, and Wayne wonders what’s underneath the shirt as he gets the first aid kit, wonders how the hell he thought Steven was anything other than an angel.

Eddie gets a dish towel wet in the kitchen and cleans Steve’s face, quiet and crying, and Wayne sets the first aid kit down next to Eddie and makes some coffee. He thinks about talking, doesn’t. Touches the Garfield magnet for good luck. He feels like maybe Steve needs it.

Steve who is holding Eddie’s wrist as he cleans him up, wincing and crying from his good eye. Finally, after a silence that gives Wayne heartburn, Eddie sits back on his heels and says whisper quiet, “your dad?”

Steve gulps, blinks. “My uh, my dad. I was writing you uh, uh a love note.” Eddie looks over at Wayne. Wayne wipes his brow. “But uh, he found it, and your name’s not uh, Edith” Steve lets out a chuff, winces again. “So he asked what was going on, and I told him. I told him. And then he said I had one minute to take it back or he’d make me take it back.” Eddie lets out a small gasp, more like a howl, and sits completely on the floor. Wayne sits down at the table, cold mac and cheese looking like a sick joke. And he’s so mad. Wayne is so, so mad, seeing this young man who so obviously loves his pride and joy, shares in his pride and joy, who brings him apples to make apple pie, he growls out

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Steven, not one thing. You stay here long as you like, hell, don’t leave. We got you, boy.”

And that’s that. Steve crumples in on himself, and Eddie pulls him into a big hug, just holds him, rocks him, coos “a love note, huh, sweetheart? For me?” And Steve nods until he nods off.

The next morning, while Robin takes care of Steve, Wayne and Eddie break into Steve’s room, clear out everything he owns, and slash his dad’s tires. That was Wayne’s idea - the least he could do for a loved one.