#jason: stop trying to be my parent and get some fucking help

[faramirsonofgondor]

AU where Dick gets de-aged and thinks that Jason is Bruce because they look really similar, and Jason is the around the age Bruce was when Dick was that age. When everyone tries explaining the situation to Dick he doesn’t really get it because he was de-aged to a time when his English isn’t great and he doesn’t understand as much about time/dimension travel and all that. Like Dick is smart enough to grasp that there’s something different about the situation and he can tell the small differences between his Bruce and Jason but he still doesn’t really get it and just decides that Jason is the next best thing until he gets his Bruce back. And every time the real Bruce says that he’s Bruce, Dick just shakes his head and goes “My Bruce isn’t old.” or “My Bruce doesn’t have gray hair.” or something like that. Eventually everyone just gives up trying to explain it all and lets him think whatever he wants.

They decide to let Jason handle him, mostly because Dick hisses anytime anyone else comes near. Jason, who remembers Bruce constantly singing Dick’s praises, and who has heard everyone speak about Dick as though he’s an angel, thinks this is going to be a walk in the park. It is not. Jason looks away for one moment and Dick’s climbing the walls (literally - not metaphorically). He goes to the bathroom and somehow Dick managed to climb out the window and is halfway downtown. He tries to sleep and Dick is in his room like a creepy ass ninja - staring down at him, waiting for something (Dick had a nightmare). He breathes and suddenly Dick is ranting about killing his parents’ murderer. He tries to help Dick with his English and the kid starts making up words. He decides that they should patrol so that Dick can let some of his energy out, and suddenly there’s a maniacal cackle and he’s surrounded by goons that were taken down in the most brutal sense (are those bite marks???)

Jason finally decides to push his pride aside and talk to Alfred and Bruce about, only for them to act like this is completely fucking normal??? Alfred even laughs at him and tells him that he’s lucky he doesn’t own a chandelier and only lives in a studio apartment. So, Jason tries to get help from some of Dick’s other friends, who do stop by and visit, but do NOT help and just say “good luck with that”??? Even the older members of the Justice League are no help. The only person who even offers to help Jason is DEATHSTROKE of all people, and Jason is almost desperate enough to consider it. It all ends when Jason finds a solution to the whole de-aging thing because he’s so tired of trying to take care of child Dick. Except Jason’s suffering doesn’t end because whenever he tries to talk about what kid Dick put him through, Dick tries to GASLIGHT HIM??? If Jason hears the words “It wasn’t that bad” one more time, he’s going to de-age that little shit again and drop him off on everyone else’s doorstep and see how much they like it.

[gay-dorito-dust]

How’d they react to you calling them bro or dude whilst in a pre-established relationship…(platonic/romantic)

Dick: he’s insulted.

Gutted.

He will try to give you the silent treatment for such a shameful thing but ultimately fails as he ends up being the one pawing at you for attention.

‘Do you still like me? Or did you just run out of cute nicknames to call me?’ He’d say one night as your both cuddling in bed together. ‘If it’s the later then I can help you find something, just please spare me and don’t call me dude or bro anymore.’

He’d rather you call him Richard-wait, no he hates that even more because to him you’re not meant to use his fully name, only cutesy nicknames that’d make a grown man sick to his stomach. Nothing else would suffice other than Dickie bird, handsome, babe, hunk, honeybun or anything that wasn’t his name.

He’s go mad or would act delusional and say that everything was fine when everyone could tell that it wasn’t. People who know him have personally came to you and begged you to stop calling him dude/bro because he kept talking their ears off about how his beloved partner is torturing him, which ends up torturing them even more upon hearing about his relationship issues.

Dick would even consult Hayley on what he did wrong, only for Hayley to look at him with those big, big eyes of hers. This was not her level of expertise unfortunately. (Head empty, no thoughts. She can’t do her abc’s guys it’s a real tragedy.)

Jason: ‘I just had my tongue down your throat just now and you had to go and ruin the mood by calling me bro. What the fuck.’ - Jason at some point.

It’s a whole mood killer for him to be honest.

He’s calling you things like chipmunk or sweetheart but here you were calling him dude and bro. He knows for a fact that he’s well and truly out of the friend zone because the shit you’ve done together isn’t platonic in any sort of way.

Thinks Roy had set you up to call him dude or bro behind his back. (He hasn’t)

Jason is petty and will get his own back by referring you as ‘just a really good friend’, ‘buddy o’ mine’ or even worse than both of those; ‘chum.’ 💀

When you go low, Jason was more then willing to go to the depths of fucking hell to the point it had become a game to see who’d call out just how stupid this all was, and at the both of you for ever thinking that this was an excellent idea in the first place.

You’ll probs get punished…I’m just going to leave it there and let your minds guess what that ‘punishment’ was exactly.

Damian:

As much as Damian hates it when you call him Dami, he hates it when you call him dude or bro even more, if that’s even possible.

Damian hates it when you call him dude or bro. He’s not your dude or bro, he’s your partner and he expects no less then darling, my heart or my beloved.

So you calling him dude or bro is more than enough reason for him to give you the silent treatment.

‘Until you learn that I am your partner, I won’t want to be anywhere near you if you’re going to keep calling me your bro or dude. It is a disservice to who I actually am to you.’ He says with a huff and beckons Titus to follow, only for the Great Dane to be left confused as to why his human parents were at a disagreement over something silly.

Also Titus, Ace, Jerry, Alfred the cat, Goliath and BatCow are children of divorce because I said so.

So it’s bests that you apologise while you still can because Damian can hold a grudge unlike any other. Even if you didn’t, you’d still crack first before Damian and quickly put an end to calling him dude/bro.

He just thinks being called a dude/bro when in a pre-established relationship is an insult.

He can take a joke but not when it’s aimed at his relationship. He’s well and truly devoted to his relationship -if we’re to completely ignore the whole being Robin thing- that it might as well be an insult towards him too at this point.

[loomingspector]

Dc x Dp story prompt pt. 2

The same vein as my other post here

But what if Damian and Danny was the same age, I really love that trope too, that they’re basically twins how close in age they are, maybe just a few days, MAX a week or so.

When Damian comes back to the family, Bruce gets a whole new kind of paranoid again. He kinda stopped the whole sleeping around phase when he got the kids, since Dick (wanting to kill people) kinda took up a lot of his free time. And after that the kids just kept coming so he didn’t really get into it again.

But then Damian came into it, and he was like “wait, have I checked the DNA database the last few years??” And goes down into the cave to do a country wide DNA analysis on DNA on file, both in police/hospitals and the whole nine yards. (Cause he’s extra like that)

And then he find that in just about the same time he was SA’ed by Talia, he got really drunk at a science charity event in Amity Park, maybe to get rid of his stress of it all, and because Bruce would rather die than cope with his problems in a healthy way, and released some energy by being with the Fenton couple, who seemed sane enough (at the time).

The Fenton’s knew that Danny was Wayne’s but then decided that they kinda just wanted him themselves, and then got really into GiW and ghost hunting, and then kinda forgot to tell Wayne.

So now Bruce has to juggle with the fact that Talia hid away Damian, and the Fentons fucking forgot to tell him that they have his son.

He goes to Amity Park to find his son, who’s basically in the same situation as Tim, barely acknowledged by his parents and left to his own devices with his sister.

Bruce being Bruce goes, welp, might as well get custody of them both. Legally he should be able to when Danny confesses to the illegal machines in the basement that killed him. So the couple is deemed unfit to care for the two, then minors.

Problem is:

Danny and Jazz doesn’t really want to leave Amity Park.

Solution:

Buy a second mansion in Amity Park and make that the home they move into, with servants vetted by the Waynes, and security on par with the White House.

They can live there until they finish school, and they’re free to choose what happens after that, go to Gotham and be with the family, maybe Gotham university, or anything else.

Bruce is just happy that they’re not in the cape business like the rest of his kids…

Danny doesn’t know Bruce is Batman, so he has to be extra careful to not expose himself as a hero to them, and also not drag them into the ghost realm and ghost fighting. And also, wtf is wrong with the ectoplasm in the Jason kid?? (He a ghost too??)

But he also really likes the idea of an actually caring family, I mean, Bruce went out of his way to not uproot his life and makes sure they can choose whatever future they want, even if that doesn’t include him. Hell he even took Jazz in, who isn’t even his kid.

His new siblings seem fun, caring and like they actually care, making an effort to help him understand that being neglected by his parents isn’t his fault. Tim and him finding comradeship in both of their experiences with it. Dick is just overly protective and seems like he’s trying to genuinely get to know him. Making sure not to pressure the two new siblings too much, but also organizing siblings bonding time.

Bruce of course doesn’t know yet that Danny is a vigilante, so he has to juggle wanting to learn about these new kids, as well as hide them away from his Brucie persona, so they can live normal lives.

He’ll just ignore the way Constantine is brushing things off his shoulders every time they’re in the watchtower together, mumbling something about a ‘dark energy’ clinging to him. But he always says weird shit.

So what happens when a giant ghost fight occurs in Amity, Bruce is notified and comes to rescue his kid in full Batman gear, Danny is gone and Jazz won’t tell him where he is, cause why the fuck does Batman care.

Danny is just confused why the entire Justice league is suddenly in Amity, and why the fuck The Batman™️ is running around looking for his human form.

Identity crisis at its finest.

[edward-munson]

soft place to land | S.H.

Summary: You're his soft place. You're the one he turns to when things get difficult, the one who cleans him up when he gets into a fight. He's the broken guy who carries scars because of his problematic parents, but you are there to help keep him calm.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, angst

Word count: 9.6k

Steve always knew when he was going to snap. It started with a simmering heat blooming in his chest. His ears would start ringing and his knuckles always became white from balling his fists too tight.

Most people assumed he was the cool, caring, loving guy. The one with the hair, the silly jokes and the effortless confidence. But behind those hazel eyes, there was a raging feeling that boiled his blood every time he had to hear his father talking shit about him straight to his face. And sometimes it only worsened when Jason Carver stopped by Family Video only to try and pick a fight. Because he knew Steve had a short temper.

But that wasn't always the real him, not really. And you knew that. Robin knew that too. But with you– it was different with you. He felt better when he was near you. He felt like himself most of the time.

Even though you were inside the convenience store with Robin and Eddie, he still lurched forward and punched Jason in the face, hitting his jawline. The jock moved backward and quickly jabbed at Steve's cheekbone.

His fists were still red when you saw him outside the old gas station, with his knuckles scabbed and a smudge of blood across his cheekbone. He was panting, there was a trace of dried tear that trailed his cheek. You crouched beside him, one hand on top of his shoulder, the other one carefully cradling his face to scan the injury.

Your heart shrunk at the sight of his trembling hands, at the way he was trying to avoid eye contact, because he knew he was supposed to get his shit together and he just couldn't. You gently brushed away the hair that was sticking to his forehead.

“Jason?” You asked in a low tone, and he let out a dry, bitter laugh. His teeth were pink with blood.

“Jason.”

You took a deep breath as you helped him up and leaned against the hood of his car, waiting for Robin and Eddie. They didn’t ask what happened but exchanged a knowing look with him before getting into the car in complete silence. You went back inside, grabbed some toilet paper, and moistened it to clean his face. It wasn't the most sanitary option, but it was enough to remove the smeared blood from his skin.

He winced at the touch, so you tried to avoid putting too much pressure on it. One hand supported his chin while you gently dabbed his cheek. He didn’t say anything, but you could tell he was in pain. Unable to meet your gaze, he felt ashamed of what had happened. Steve was reluctant to admit that he still struggled with controlling his anger, but you always assured him that you were there for him.

“I'm sorry” He rasped, his voice could barely be heard. His eyes were still roaming around a blank spot, avoiding you.

“Hey” You say, your fingers delicately lifting his head to face you “Don't do that. You know I'm always here.”

He tried to look away, but you ensured he looked at you.

“Yeah, but that's not who I want to be. That asshole keeps bringing up my parents all the fucking time.”

“I know, and he's a loser for that. But you need to remember that this is what he wants.”

His hazel eyes kept following yours, searching for comfort. Steve always found solace in you. He gave you a small smile and leaned into your touch. One of his hands found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze before he went back to his car.

At Robin's, you cleaned his injuries and took care of them. As you always did, whenever it happened. A few times it would be his best friend when you couldn't be there to help. You set the cloth down and reached for the first aid kit under the sink, one you had used more than once on him over the years. Cuts, bruises, swollen jaws– all pieces of Steve that his parents never noticed or cared enough to ask about.

“You ever gonna stop throwing yourself into fights for an asshole?” You asked lightly, squeezing ointment onto your fingers.

“Probably not” He said, shrugging “Not if it means they get away with saying crap like that.”

Your fingers were soft when they touched the corner of his lip, cleaning off dried blood with a tenderness that made Steve's chest ache. He hated how his voice sounded too quiet in these moments. He didn't want to feel vulnerable.

“Does it scare you? When I get like this?”

You blinked, surprised by the question, feeling your hands still for a moment.

“No, it never has. Because you don’t get like this with me.”

Steve met your eyes without fear this time, seeing a curve on your lips.

It wasn’t a romantic moment. Not yet, but it was the kind of moment that found its place in the silence between the two of you. It felt quiet and raw, as if it were etched in the space separating you both. All he wanted was to hug you and hold on for just a moment.

You returned to cleaning him up, brushing your thumb along the edge of his jaw where a bruise had started to form.

“You’ve gotta stop letting your parents’ voices live in your head. They don’t get to take up space in there forever” Your voice was tender, and it echoed in his head.

Steve’s throat tightened, but he nodded. He didn’t say thank you, he actually never did. Not because he wasn’t grateful, but because he didn’t know how to say it in a way that would do justice to you. Instead, he let you patch him up in silence. And you did. Carefully, as if it mattered.

Later that night, after you had fallen asleep next to Robin and Steve was lying awake in her guest bedroom, staring at the ceiling, he thought about how you had looked at him. You weren't afraid; you never were. It was as if he wasn't a wreckage you had grown accustomed to cleaning up. He thought maybe he’d tell you one day; not in the middle of a fight or after another busted lip, but on a regular, nothing-special day. He would tell you that he noticed, that he always did. No one else had ever made him feel less of a mess just by being there.

But for now, he let the silence settle, let you stay asleep, safe from everything, even from the worst parts of himself. For once, Steve Harrington didn’t feel like he was on the verge of breaking down. He just felt... intact.

Because of you. Because you always appeared when he was falling apart. And because, little by little, he was learning that maybe he didn’t have to break alone anymore.

He looks at you differently when he thinks no one’s watching. It’s neither dramatic nor obvious. He doesn’t linger like some guy in a teen movie, nor does he stare enough for it to get awkward. But in those quiet moments, or when you’re laughing with Dustin at the arcade, chatting with Robin behind the Family Video counter, or even just standing beside him in line at the gas station. His eyes find you like a magnet.

For example, you tuck your hair behind your ear without realizing it, or when you chew your lip while scanning the back of a VHS case. You don’t notice, but he does. Always. His gaze is soft, warm, and almost worshipping. Not because he’s trying to memorize you. He already knows you.

He just likes seeing you be… you.

He’s the only one who notices the small things. How you always tap the rim of your coffee cup twice - only ever with your left hand - before taking a sip. Or how you can’t stand milk in your coffee but still add exactly half a spoonful of sugar. Just enough to get the bitter taste off of it.

He never asked about those things. He just remembered. So every time he hands you a cup after school or during a shift at the video store, it’s perfect. You raised a brow at him the first few times, narrowing your eyes like you were trying to catch him off guard.

“Steve” You would say suspiciously and amused “How do you keep getting it exactly right?”

He’d just shrug, with a crooked smile “Magic. Or maybe I’m just very observant.”

You started calling it the “Steve Standard", almost playfully. But you always smiled when he handed it to you. To Steve, that smile felt like sunshine. Unbeknownst to you, he saw you as a safe haven during his difficult moments. And maybe, just maybe, he was becoming the same thing for you. There was something about sitting beside him when he broke down that created a special bond.

You never tried to pry, never forced words from him. You just sat there, too close to him, reaching out a hand for him. Sometimes you handed him a drink, sometimes you played with the edge of your sleeve until he could look you in the eye again. When his anger exploded, quick and hot as it always did, you never flinched. You weren’t afraid of him. You knew it wasn’t about you. And you never treated him like a broken person. You just… stayed.

Every single time.

And that's what made him so captivated by you. Not just because of that, but the entirety of it. He just wished he wasn't misreading the whole situation.

He was driving you home, throwing glances at you from the corner of his eyes, watching the way you would draw circles on your jeans. His hands tightened around the wheel, he urged to reach over and take your hand so bad that it hurt. But he didn't, not yet. Maybe it wasn't the right time for that yet. Because whatever this was. it wasn’t some high school infatuation anymore. Not after everything.

Then there was that night he called you. You could hear it in his voice before he even said a word: something was wrong. So you grabbed a movie, a six-pack of root beer, and showed up without asking. You sat on the floor together, your backs against the couch. The movie played, but neither of you really watched. He cried quietly, his shoulders shook. He was angry and ashamed. He told you about his dad’s latest blow-up that made him feel humiliated. How he had looked his son in the eye before slamming the door and muttering “no wonder everyone leaves you.”

You didn’t say anything at first. You just pressed your hand flat against his chest, showing you could hold all the broken pieces together.

“I'm still here” You promised him. And he kept sobbing, his head resting on your shoulder.

Your hands played with his hair. His hands held your back tightly, as if he was about to break anymore than he already had.

“Thank you, Angel. I love you.”

He loved calling you Angel. More importantly, he loves you more than he could admit.

He remembers that moment more than anything. Maybe more than he should. On a Saturday morning, you walk into Family Video smiling, your hair all disheveled from the wind. He feels like someone just punched him gently in the chest. That’s what you do to him. You ruin him in the most careful way. Sometimes, he imagines telling you everything. Just blurting it out like an idiot.

You’re the only one who makes me feel like I’m not ruined.

But it always feels too much. Too soon. So instead, he memorizes the sound of your laugh. How your voice softens when you’re tired. The crease between your brows when you’re trying to finish a crossword puzzle. How you always reach for his hand when you’re crossing a busy street, even if neither of you ever acknowledges it.

He holds onto those things like a lifeline.

Because with you, it’s never been about impressive gestures. It’s about the late-night drives, the playlists you build together, the quiet understanding in your gaze when he lies and says he's fine. Even though you know he's the farthest from being fine. You treat his silence, in a way that it’s a sacred matter. Not something to fix. He doesn't need fixing, he needs reassurance, he deserves to know no one is going to leave him just as his parents make it look like that's the truth.

He knows deep down that he’ll never be the same after you. Even if he’s not ready to say it out loud yet, he knows it in his bones: you are the only person in his life who makes him want to be better. Not to prove something. Just to be worthy of the space you’ve opened for him in your world. You are the calm after his storm. And he’s learning, even if slowly, quietly and patiently how to be still in it.

You love snapping pictures whenever you hang out with everyone. They always make funny faces and strike poses to get the best of it. Most importantly, you love capturing Steve and memorizing every moment. He doesn't even complain, he just leans into it. He likes it when you take pictures of him.

You're in the parking lot of the gas station just outside Hawkins, the golden sunrays cast highlights in his hair, his sunkissed freckles glow. Steve’s leaning against the driver’s side door of his car, his hair perfectly brushed, almost as if he knew what was about to come.

You lift the camera, and he doesn’t even need direction. He crosses his arms on top of the car and leans his chin against them, as if he knows exactly what kind of picture you’re trying to take.

“You always get this look in your eye. Like you’re gonna steal my soul with that thing” He says before you find the best angle.

You snap the photo.

“Too late” You murmur with a smirk, and he flushes red under the fading sun.

He keeps a shoebox in the bottom drawer of his dresser. There are dozens of Polaroids in there. Him, blurry in motion at the arcade. Him shirtless, cooking eggs, flipping you off playfully with a spatula. Him holding up a kitten you found near the lake. Him asleep in your passenger seat, mouth open, lashes curled ridiculously long. And in one corner of the box: a photo of you holding the camera. You’re not even looking at it– you’re smiling at him instead.

It's the one he chooses one night to put on his fridge along with many others of you and his friends. When he's sitting alone in the kitchen and catches a glance of the picture, a smile tugs at his lips.

You never meant to memorize him. It just kind of… happened. Somewhere between the first time you cleaned up his busted lip and the third time he made your coffee exactly right without asking, you realized you knew him in ways that didn’t make sense to anyone else. How he only faked a smile when his parents were around. Or how he’d crack a joke and change the topic whenever someone mentioned their families, always playing up the “only child” thing like it was a joke instead of a wound.

He never talked about them. He didn’t have to, and you just paid attention. And apparently, you weren’t the only one. It started one night at Nancy’s. She had this idea for a “normal night” for once- without the Upside Down, no monsters, no trauma bonding. Just junk food, dumb movies, and way too many people packed into one house.

Robin. Eddie. Steve. Dustin. Lucas. Mike. Nancy. Jonathan… and you. You came late, work had you stuck there until past ten, and by the time you got there, someone had already claimed the best spot on the couch. You ended up near Steve on the floor, your legs stretched under a shared blanket, a bowl of popcorn balanced randomly between you.

“Hey,” He said as you settled down beside him. His eyes flicked over you, soft and familiar, his voice was like honey “Wasn’t sure you’d come.”

You smiled, nudging his knee with yours “Miss movie night with you guys? Not a chance.”

And just like that, his shoulders dropped. The tension melted from him like ice under the sun. That’s the thing with him: he carries tension as if it’s a burden. But when you show up, he always lets some of it go, as though maybe you’re a reason to breathe again. By the second movie, someone turned off the lights completely. The room faded into that sleepy kind of chaos that only happens around 2 a.m. Half the group passed out in random positions, the rest whispering or hardly watching the screen from under heavy eyelids. You were curled on your side, barely watching the TV with one arm under your head, when you felt Steve shift behind you.

This wasn’t just a dream.

At first, it was nothing. There was a kick on the blanket and a heavy exhale. Then something deeper filled the air. A low, broken sound escaped from his throat, a mumble between a breath and a word, and your whole body tensed. You turned toward him slowly, his face was strained in sleep, his jaw clenched, his hands fisting the blanket like he was bracing for something.

You knew that look. You had seen it once when he fell asleep on your couch after a fight, after a night where he had almost gotten slammed into concrete again and came home bleeding. You had heard the way he whispered “don’t go” in a pleading tone.

You sat up on your elbows, reaching out to him “Steve.”

You whispered gently, fingers brushing his forearm “Hey. You’re dreaming.”

He flinched hard, his whole body became rigid, his breath was ragged and he kept mumbling under it.

“No, no, get off me—” He muttered with a cracked voice “Please…”

You pressed your palm flat to his chest, right over his heart, as you always did when he spiraled. One hand went right up to his face, your fingers gently cradling him “Steve. It’s me. You’re okay. You’re here, with me.”

His eyes snapped open as if he had been yanked from another reality. They seemed wild and barely focused, his hands latched onto your wrist instinctively.

“It’s okay, It’s just me” You whispered, both hands holding his face forcing him to look at you.

He blinked. Once, twice. His breathing slowed gradually, your voice was an anchor to him. He stared at you as though he wasn’t sure how he got there, like you were the only thing that looked real. Robin stirred across the room, voice groggy but alert.

“Is he okay?”

You glanced up and gave her a small nod “Yeah. Just a bad dream.”

She rubbed her eyes, watching you for a moment longer. Then her expression changed and her gaze flickered, just realizing what it really was. She knew that look as well, but she didn’t say anything, just lay back down and rolled over.

Steve was still staring at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts, trapped in his own mind. He was still heaving from the nightmare.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to freak you out” He muttered, letting out a quiet, but dry huff.

“You didn’t,” You say softly, brushing your thumb in a slow circle over his sticky cheek “You never do.”

He turned his head toward you, his eyes were bloodshot, his brow creased, almost as if he was embarrassed to be seen this way.

“I hate that you see me like this” He admits with a bitter tone, his voice low and hoarse.

“I don’t. I see you, Steve. Not the nightmare version. Not the one who flinches in his sleep. Just… you” You nod, meeting his gaze without flinching.

He swallows hard, trying to get rid of the lump stuck in his throat “You always show up. Even when I don’t deserve it.”

He always feels you’re about to disappear every time he has a nightmare, or when he snaps. Because he thinks you’re worth something better, not a broken man with problematic parents and a short temper. But you’re always there for him, and he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to keep you around.

“You don’t have to deserve me. That’s not how this works.”

He looked at you and felt something shake inside his chest. He felt it fluttering, his face burned and his fingertips keep tingling.

“Why? Why do you care so much?”

You didn’t look away, your thumb kept pressing his skin “Because you’re worth caring about.”

For a long second, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, tentatively, his hand reached under the blanket and brushed against yours. It felt like a jolt of electricity running through his veins. It was enough to say ‘I’m still here if you want me’. You didn’t pull away. You laced your fingers with his. And even in the dark, you saw how his whole body softened. As if your hand was the only proof he needed that he was safe.

The next morning, Robin handed you a coffee mug- black, just the way you liked it, and raised an eyebrow.

“You know... If you guys are gonna keep pretending you’re just friends, you should at least be a little less obvious about it” She said casually and you almost choked on your coffee.

You blinked a few times at her “What?”

She smirked, sipping her coffee as if it wasn’t a big deal. “He looks at you like you hung the stars for him. And you touch him in a way that he’ll fall apart if you don’t.”

Your mouth opened and closed, but you had nothing to say.

She shrugged, nonchalant “For what it’s worth… I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look more like himself than when he’s around you.”

And honestly? You felt that too. That night stayed with you, it etched inside you. Not because of the nightmare, or because he reached for you. But because when the worst parts of him showed up, when the ghosts came creeping in, he let you be there. He let you stay. And maybe he wasn’t ready to say the words yet. But he didn’t have to.

Because he reached for you in the dark, and you didn’t let go of him.

He’s up not long after you, but he misses the company. He misses your warmth, and he holds his breath for a second before closing his eyes for a moment, trying to memorize your touch. You’re sitting with Dustin and Mike outside, you’re sharing the huge wooden swing as they talk about nerd stuff. He likes to see the way you try to understand whatever they say, the way you always crack up when Dustin gets too loud or too excited about something.

He sits beside you and stirs you when his arm brushes against yours. You immediately glance at him with a soft smile and it melts him completely.

“Hey” You murmur.

He offers you a small, tired smile “Hey.”

There’s something different about him in the daylight. He’s always been handsome, sure, but like this? His hair is tousled, eyelids heavy, mouth tugging at the corners in a way that doesn’t feel performative? Like this, he’s soft, and it feels domestic. And it almost makes you dizzy.

“You okay?” You ask, brushing your thumb along his knuckles, casually, but intentional.

Steve nods slowly, then sighs.

“Didn’t think I’d fall apart in front of everyone. Guess that’s a new record” He says quietly, almost as if he’s too ashamed of his friends hearing him.

They're deep in the conversation, but you get up from the swing and walk with him to the other one a few feet away.

You shake your head “You didn’t fall apart.”

His eyes flick toward you, and there’s bitterness in his voice “Felt like it.”

“You were sleeping, having a nightmare. That’s not a weakness, Steve...”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifts onto his side so he can look at you fully. His hand slips and rests on your wrist, thumb pressing lightly against your pulse point.

“I just–” He stops and his lips tightens “When I woke up and you were there... It grounded me. Like I didn’t have to explain anything. You just... knew.”

You swallow. Something fragile catches in your chest.

“That’s kind of the point. You don’t have to explain anything to me. I get it, I get you.”

His thumb keeps tracing your wrist in slow, distracted circles. His mind does that funny thing again. The action of just looking at you short-circuits his brain.

“I used to dream about my dad throwing punches. Not even at me, just at walls. At air. But the sound...”

He clenches his jaw as he cuts himself off. He doesn’t like the feeling of seeing his father punching anything, or someone. Because one of these days, if he talks back, he knows it’s going to be him.

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers again.

“I’m sorry” You whisper.

He shakes his head and huffs a laugh “It’s not your fault.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t hate that it happened.”

Steve stares at your hands, at his fingers brushing your delicate skin, in a way that he’s memorizing the way your fingers fit between his.

“I don’t talk about this stuff... Not with Robin, not even with Nancy, back then.”

You nod “I know.”

“But with you... With you, it’s different. Feels different” He exhales slowly, he feels something building up in his chest and he feels it burning.

You wait, you don’t fill the silence. You let him find the words.

“I’ve never had someone see me like this and stay. You never run, you never flinch, you never retreat. You just… stay.”

You can feel his pulse in your palm. It’s fast and uneven, and you feel your own pulse reciprocating the feeling.

“Of course I stay, Stevie.”

You bring your hand up to his face, your thumb stroking his skin as he leans into the touch, as he always does. He lifts your other hand to his chest, pressing it over his heart.

“You make me feel safe” He says it so softly that it’s barely audible.

You’re not sure what to say to that, not right away. Because in all the time you’ve known Steve Harrington, he’s always been the protector, the shield. The one who throws himself in front of danger first and worries about his own bruises later. But this? Letting you hold the softest, most breakable parts of him? This is something else entirely, this is him showing you his most vulnerable side without feeling embarrassed for doing it.

You lean forward, resting your forehead lightly against his.

“You’re safe with me. Always.”

He closes his eyes, and breathes you in. He takes in your words, and hopes to God you stay safe as well. And even though he doesn’t say it out loud, you know what he means when he squeezes your hand a little tighter. You know what lives in the spaces between the words.

He’s trying to say: Thank you. He’s trying to say: You mean more to me than I know how to admit. He’s trying to say: I think I’m falling for you. His heart skips a beat when you call him Stevie, his stomach ties to a knot and his knees wobble. It’s not much different when it’s him calling you Angel, because that’s how he sees you. You’re not only like an anchor to him, grounding him, you’re also an angel who protects him and makes him feel safer.

And you’re already there.

Steve has always been overprotective, especially when it came to you. He likes to say he’s your lucky charm while you’re his angel. Eddie often grimaces when he hears the way Steve talks about you to him. As the closest thing to a brother for each other, both Steve and Eddie are very cautious with one another after everything that happened in the Upside Down. You’re their sweet little treasure. Since you weren’t with them during those events, they want to make sure you stay safe.

You’re at The Hideout with Robin, watching as Steve and Eddie perform together for the third time. Although Eddie has his own band, he enjoys doing gigs with his best friend every once in a while. You’re sitting in a booth with Robin, sipping your drinks and whispering to each other during their break. Suddenly, someone approaches and leans against your table.

The man isn’t old; he looks to be in his 40s. His hand rests on the table, fingers tapping the surface, while his other hand holds a glass of whiskey. He attempts to make contact, trying to grab your attention. When he lifts his hand to hold yours, you instinctively pull it back. Robin immediately turns her head to glare at him, her elbows resting on the table.

“I’m sorry, but we’re not interested” She says confidently, which is the opposite of how you're feeling.

He grins, takes a drink, and clicks his tongue “I was just about to talk to the other lady.”

Robin scoffs and wraps an arm around your shoulders “She’s not interested.”

“You heard my friend, she’s not interested.” His voice cuts in deep and sharp. You didn’t even have to guess to know who it was.

You and Robin look up and meet Steve holding his waist. God, it’s almost as if you knew what was about to happen. You couldn’t handle another bar fight. You didn’t want to clean his injuries and patch him up again. You have been doing your best to keep him calm.

“Oh. You must be the boyfriend” He drags the word, measuring him from head to toe.

“I’m gonna give you a second to walk away,” Steve said, his voice flat but steady “That’s me being nice.”

The man laughed like it was a challenge “Relax, man. We were just talking.”

“She didn’t want to talk. That should’ve been enough” He says, his tone stern.

For a second, you saw that flicker behind his eyes. The growing rage, the urge to throw a punch, that old familiar feeling he tries so hard to hide. Instead, Steve took a breath. Closed his eyes, and rubbed his face slowly. His palm dragged down the stubble along his jaw, trying to ground himself. And then he counted, not out loud. You and Robin looked at each other, your foreheads wrinkled with confusion.

“Is he having a mental breakdown?” She asks and you shake your head.

“Hey, Dingus” She calls out.

The man stared at him with the same confused expression. Steve’s shoulders dropped and his fists unclenched.

“Dude, what are you even doing?” The guy asked, laughing awkwardly now, trying to act as though he wasn’t starting to feel dumb.

And they were calm.

“I’m not gonna hit you,” he said clearly. “But you’re gonna leave. Now.”

There was something about the way he said it, too low and calm, that made the guy finally back off. You all watched and the man turned on his heel and muttered something under his breath, walking off toward the bar. Only then did Steve look at you.

“You okay?” He asked softly. He felt lighter, almost as if it had wore down to concern instead.

You nodded, feeling your heart still thudding “Yeah. I was trying to handle it, thank you.”

“I know” He said, offering a small, sheepish smile “I just… couldn’t not come over.”

You reached for his hand under the table, lacing your fingers through his

“I’m glad you did.”

“What happened there, by the way? Looked like you were having a blackout” Robin asked and he huffed an embarrassed laugh.

“Thought I’d try something new. It helps me think, I guess.”

And you two shared a smile.

“Nice restraint, Harrington. The countdown’s new” She says as she pats his shoulder.

“Figured… if I want to be the kind of guy who doesn’t lose it in bars anymore, I should probably take it seriously.”

That knocked the air out of you in the best way.

You squeezed his hand “That’s… really good. Seriously.”

He smiled, finally really smiling, and it hit you again how gorgeous he was when he wasn’t carrying everything on his shoulders.

“Hey” He said as he leaned down, close enough that only you could hear “You sure you’re okay?”

“Better now” You said honestly, a shy smile painting your face.

His lips twitched “I don’t like it when people bother you.”

“I noticed.”

“I really don’t like it when they assume they can touch you or talk to you like that.”

“Then maybe” You murmured, pulling him just a little closer “You should give them a reason not to.”

Steve blinked, then laughed softly, brushing a knuckle under your jaw. “Careful, Angel. You’re gonna make me forget I’m trying to be good.”

Something inside of you coiled at his tone, at the way his eyes glinted with something mischevious.

“You’re already good, Harrington” You whispered back.

And you saw it. The way he blushed, trying to bite back a grin as Eddie called him from the stage.

“Gotta go” He said, standing reluctantly.

But before he left, he leaned down and kissed the side of your head, right close to your ear “Stay close to Robin, okay?”

You smirked “I can handle myself.”

“I know. But I like handling things for you.”

Then, before seeing your own cheeks blushing, he jogged back toward the stage, grinning, with his guitar hanging low across his hips.

Robin elbowed you and whispered in your ear “So, you didn’t deny when that creep called him your boyfriend.”

And only at that moment did you realize how you barely noticed when it happened.

“And he didn’t deny it either” She giggled.

You groan and take another sip from your drink “Just shut up, Robs.”

“Oh, this is so adorable. You know he likes you.”

You blush so hard, it’s difficult to pretend your cheeks aren’t burning. And when she sees it, she laughs and gives you a side hug, resting her head on your shoulder.

Eddie always catches a glance of his friend playing the entire time focusing on you. He sees the way Steve rarely leaves your eyes and even though you don’t stare right back at him all the time, you can’t help but think how you wished he looked at you. Eddie knows he loves you. He knows he cares so much about you that it makes him a better person.

He grins to himself when he looks at Steve again and witnesses a blush, a small fraction of a shy smile. He’s definitely whipped.

Steve Harrington didn’t just love you. He was learning how to protect you without breaking himself.

And that meant everything to you.

Sometimes when he’s not working, he likes to come over to your house and just... stay. No plans. No parties. You never ask him to come over, not really. He just shows up with a soft knock on the door with a lazy grin, a bag of chips or takeout swinging from his fingers. Like it’s instinct now. As if he knows when you need company. Tonight’s one of those nights.

You’re stretched out on the couch, one arm over your eyes to block the flickering light from the TV, your body finally relaxed. Steve’s on the floor again, leaning back against the edge of the couch, with the acoustic guitar in his lap. His head is thrown back just far enough to rest against your thigh, as if he’s been doing it forever. You can feel the slow rise and fall of his breath, the steady warmth of him.

His fingers move across the strings, strumming at something slow, like an unfinished song. A little dreamy, a little sad. You don’t recognize the tune, but it settles into your chest with something familiar.

“You always write your own stuff?” You ask.

Steve hums, not looking up “Yeah. Mostly.”

You smile behind your arm “Why haven’t you ever played me anything all the way through?”

“I do play for you” He says it just as if that should be obvious.

“Not real songs. Just little bits and pieces.”

He pauses, fingers frozen over the strings.

“Maybe that’s because they’re not done” He shrugs.

“Or maybe it’s because they’re about someone” You tease, lifting your arm to glance down at him.

He’s already looking up at you. His expression shifts, just slightly. Like you almost caught him.

“Maybe.”

You’re caught with surprise in your eyes, and suddenly it makes him chuckle “Wait… seriously?”

Steve shrugs again, smirking now, trying to play it off “Everyone writes about someone.”

You turn on your side, propping your head up on your hand “Yeah, but you get all intense when you write. Like ‘don’t talk to me I’m creating art’ kind of intense.”

“I do not” He grumbles.

You grin “You totally do. You get that furrow between your eyebrows and everything.”

Steve huffs a laugh “Okay, well maybe I do. Are you saying you keep staring at me?”

That makes you pause.

You reach down and gently flick at his ear, just enough to make him swat you away with a half laugh “So who’s she, huh? This mystery girl you’re writing all these secret sad boy songs about?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just leans forward to scribble something into his notebook resting beside him on the rug. You glance at the page, but his hand covers most of it. All you catch is a line: she walks like she doesn’t know I’m still watching.

You feel a flutter in your chest, but try to brush it off.

Steve clears his throat, still not looking at you “She’s… someone who knows me. Even when I’m kind of a mess. Especially then.”

Your smile softens.

“That’s sweet.”

He glances up at you, and the expression on his face makes something in your stomach twist. For a moment, you wonder if you’re the only one who doesn’t understand. Then, his head drops back onto your thigh as if it never left, and he strums a few more chords, this time quieter.

“You want me to finish one?” He asks after a minute. His voice is low, the honeyed tone makes your heart flutter.

You nod, your fingers absentmindedly brushing through his hair “Yeah. But only if you let me name the album.”

He groans dramatically “God, that’s a terrible idea.”

“Why? What’s wrong with ‘Songs for My Favorite Girl Who Steals My Fries and Thinks I Don’t Notice’?”

Steve laughs so hard his hand slips off the fretboard “Please. Never say that to a record label.”

You smile and run your fingers through his hair again. He doesn’t tell you that every song he’s written in the past year is about you. He doesn’t mention that when you lie on the couch like this, the words come to him the fastest. You’re the reason he even started writing again; half of his notebook is filled with little pieces of you, the way you fidget with your rings when you’re anxious, how you hum under your breath while brushing your teeth, and the sound of your voice when you’re sleepy and trying to pretend you’re not.

He doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he plays, and it’s quiet and steady. It’s a song you’ve never heard before but that somehow feels like home. And you lie back, close your eyes, and let him write you into another night without even realizing it.

It was one of those pretty lazy golden Indiana spring afternoon where the air smelled like grass and the whole group stretched out on picnic blankets, passing around warm sodas and salty chips. You were all there. Steve, Robin, Dustin, Eddie, Nancy, even Jonathan. For once, the laughter rolled around easier. It hadn’t felt like that for months. Steve had been smiling, joking, and tossing grapes at Dustin as if everything was fine.

Until he saw his father’s car parked across the street. He was wearing a suit as always, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses hiding raging eyes. He tried to avoid the staring, pretending he wasn’t there. Tried to focus on your attempted tongue twist, forced himself to listen to what Eddie was telling Jonathan about weed. But eventually, he stood and walked off behind the trees with tight shoulders and clenched fists.

You watched him go. Ten minutes later, he came back pale and shaking. He didn’t say anything at first, sitting down heavily at the edge of the blanket and stared at the grass, as though it was the most interesting thing to look at. Robin noticed first, leaning in, nudging his shoulder.

“You good?”

Steve didn’t answer. Then you moved closer, voice soft “Hey, talk to me.”

He opened his mouth. and for a second, you thought he’d brush it off like he always did. But instead, he said, too loud and too sharp “He said I’m pathetic.”

The group fell quiet, there was a few exchanging of glances. His eyes were wide, wet, blinking too fast.

“He said I’m wasting everything. That I’ll never be anything but a failed babysitter with no ambition. Said it was embarrassing that I haven't gone back to school. Embarrassing that I hang around a bunch of teenagers.”

His voice cracked on the word embarrassing. No one moved. Steve looked around, as he suddenly realized what he was doing, breaking apart in front of all of you. He swiped a hand over his face and tried to laugh it off, but the laugh broke into a sob.

“I- I didn’t mean to lose it. Sorry. God, I’m so...”

“Stop” You said quickly, already kneeling beside him “Don’t apologize.”

He looked at you, his eyes full of pain and glossy “He doesn’t get it, none of it. He never wanted to.”

You put both hands on his face, gently grounding him “He doesn’t get you, Steve. But I do, we all do. Look around you, there’s a whole group who’s here to support you.”

He leaned forward before he could stop himself, pressing his forehead against your shoulder as if he were exhausted, as if he needed a place to rest. You held him close, not caring about who might be watching. Behind you, someone began quietly packing up food, giving you both some space.

The others started murmuring soft apologies, walking away and scattering toward the parked cars, sharing knowing glances as if they understood that you needed a moment alone.

When you looked around again, it was just the two of you under the trees.

“I thought I was okay. I thought I had gotten past needing anything from him. But every time he talks to me like that, I feel like I’m ten years old again, begging him to look at me.”

You wrapped your arms tighter around him “You don’t need anything from him, Steve. Not anymore.”

He pulled back just enough to see your face “I thought maybe if I was someone good, someone better, he’d see me. Maybe if I kept my life as he wanted and tried hard enough, he’d... I don’t know. Care.”

“You are good. You’re more than good.”

He studied you, his hand came up as if he wasn’t thinking about it, brushing your hair back, fingers trailing against your jaw.

“I thought maybe I saw something in the way you looked at me. Like maybe I wasn’t imagining it. But if I was wrong...”

“You weren’t” You didn’t let him finish. He didn’t get to feel like a failure because he thought he was misreading it.

His brows knit “I wasn’t?”

You shook your head slowly, heart pounding. Your hands were shaking, but you managed to smile.

“You weren’t wrong. I feel the same. I’ve felt it for a while.”

He blinked, in a way that he didn’t quite believe you “You do?”

“I do.”

You leaned your forehead to his, with eyes closed “And I hate that he made you feel as if you’re hard to love. Because you’re not. You’re not, Stevie.”

He let out a shaky breath, with half a laugh and half a cry, and cupped your face as if you were something he couldn’t actually believe was real.

“I thought maybe I crossed a line” He whispered.

“You didn’t. If anything… I was hoping you’d cross it.”

He leans in slowly, like he’s giving you time to stop him, but you don’t want to. You want this. You want him. When his lips finally meet yours, the kiss is warm and careful. The kind that says I’ve thought about this. A lot. It doesn’t rush.

His hand curls gently around the back of your neck, fingers tangling through your hair, pulling you closer as if he’s trying to memorize how perfectly you fit against him. Your hands grip the sides of his jacket, holding on as if you never want to let go. You sigh into him, and that’s when he deepens the kiss, just a little.

It’s soft, yet it burns, slow and sweet. When you finally pull apart, with your foreheads resting against each other, he’s breathing as if he just ran a mile. His eyes are still closed, but he’s smiling. A real smile this time, an honest one at that.

“Wow” He whispers.

You smile back “Yeah.”

He nudges his nose gently against yours “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“Me too. You have no idea.”

His fingers graze down your arm and find your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, squeezing once.

“I think I do now.”

And for the first time all afternoon, maybe after a long time, he doesn’t look lost. He looks found.

You thought everyone already knew about you and Steve, especially after that afternoon at the picnic. At least Robin and Nancy were aware of it. They kept asking you to share details about that day and how everything happened. They wanted to know when you first noticed your feelings and what it was like. They seemed genuinely excited to see that Steve had finally found someone who liked him for who he is, flaws and all. Nancy, in particular, looked more than happy to know it was you, one of her best friends.

You and Steve are sitting on the hood of his car just outside the arcade. It’s not a date-date, but it kind of is. His thigh is pressed against yours, your coffee is in his hand because he always finishes it when you forget it in the cupholder, and he has his pinky loosely hooked around yours in a way that says “this is new and I like it here”. His heart leaps every time you look at him and smile. His throat tightens when you laugh loudly and throw your head back. His knees buckle when you pull his lip between your teeth during a kiss.

You’re in the middle of teasing him about losing Galaga to Dustin again when you hear it. A loud, very theatrical gasp. You both turn, already knowing who it comes from. Eddie Munson is standing frozen on the sidewalk, a bag of Funyuns in one hand and the other dramatically clutching his chest.

“What in the Upside Down hell is this?” He shouts, pointing between you two like he's witnessing a crime scene “Am I hallucinating? Did I die? Is this my personal version of hell?”

You burst out laughing, while Steve just gives him a look.

“Oh my God,” Eddie breathes, walking toward you in slow motion like he's approaching a wild animal “Tell me this isn’t what it looks like. Tell me this is just... You tripped, and she's holding you up, and the eye contact is accidental and deeply misleading.”

You grin, not moving from your seat in the car “What do you think it looks like?”

Eddie stares at you, then at Steve. Then at your hands, then back at you.

Steve raises an eyebrow “You good there, Munson?”

“Good? No, Harrington, I’m not good. You, you are supposed to be emotionally stunted and painfully repressed and terrible at love!”

“Wow” Steve mutters, offended but also amused.

“And you” Eddie says, spinning to face you “Are supposed to have standards.”

“Hey!” Steve protests.

You’re laughing so hard now that you nearly spill your coffee “Eddie, breathe. It’s not that deep.”

He holds up a hand “Okay. Okay, no. I just, how long has this been going on?”

You glance at Steve. He shrugs, sheepishly “Kind of… recent?”

“But not today recent” Eddie says, narrowing his eyes “You’ve got the look.”

“What look?” You and Steve ask at the same time.

“The look” Eddie says dramatically, his bag of snacks long forgotten “The soft ‘I’d die for you’ eyes. He’s practically glowing, and you’re sitting in his personal space like he doesn’t hate it. Don’t try to fool me, I’ve seen rom-coms.”

You roll your eyes “It’s… kind of new, okay?”

Eddie crosses his arms “Does Robin know?”

“Yes” You both say in unison.

“Dustin?”

Steve winces “I don’t think so.”

Eddie gasps again “You mean I found out before Henderson? Oh, this is the greatest day of my life.”

Steve glares “Please don’t make this a thing.”

Eddie smirks, but there’s something softer in his eyes now “Hey. I’m just surprised, not mad. A little horrified, sure, but mostly…”

He pauses, then gestures vaguely between you “It makes weird sense. In a ‘sun and storm cloud’ kind of way.”

You nudge Steve ��See? He gets it.”

Steve just grumbles under his breath, clearly flustered. Eddie softens a little more, shrugging his leather jacket higher “Look, I give you crap because I’m me, but seriously… if you make each other happy, then I’m happy for you.”

You smile “Thanks, Eddie.”

He holds up a finger. “However. I will be running an extensive interrogation at your house next week. And if you break her heart, Harrington, I will write a very pointed rock ballad about it.”

Steve groans “Of course you will.”

Eddie grins like the devil “Working title: ‘Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow’ You’ll be immortalized.”

You toss your empty coffee cup into the nearby trash can and hop off the hood “Come on, lover boy” You tease Steve “Let’s go before he gets out his guitar.”

Steve stands too, sliding an arm casually around your waist now that the secret’s out. Eddie just stares at you both with a baffled smile.

“You’re kidding me” He mutters again, but this time it almost sounds as though he means finally.

The sun warms your skin as you step onto the grass of Lover’s Lake, the breeze with fresh hair hits you with the scent of wildflowers. Steve is already there, waiting by the edge of the deck, his eyes lighting up the second he sees you. He grins, hair tousled perfectly as if he just rolled out of bed, but in a way that somehow suits him. There isn’t a day where his hair is actually awful and you hate it. Mostly because you always spend too much time on your hair while he barely brushes his.

“Hey” he says, reaching out to pull you into a hug that’s tighter than usual. His chest is warm against you, and his arms linger longer than it should. You smile, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Miss me?” You ask, pulling him by the collar of his shirt and he giggles.

“Yeah. A lot” He admits, his lips ghosting over yours.

You wrap your arms around his waist and press him closer to you “Good, because I definitely missed you too.”

You walk together slowly along the shoreline, his hand finding yours. His fingers curl tightly around yours, as if he's afraid you might disappear. It feels a bit clingy, but it's also sweet, and you like it. You appreciate that he wants to hold on to you. Suddenly, he stops and gently pulls you toward a blanket he laid out earlier. The sun casts playful dots of shadows above you, dancing on your faces.

Steve’s hand never leaves yours as he pulls you close, his thumb is always tracing small circles on your skin. He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes searches yours as though he’s memorizing every detail. After your picnic, he leads you toward the edge of the water and you can feel the cool, soft mud beneath your bare feet. The lake sparkles in the afternoon sun, but there’s there’s a sharpness in the spring air that makes you hesitate for a moment.

“You cold?” He asks with a playful teasing grin playing on his lips.

“A little” You admit, wringing your hands together.

He just laughs and grabs your hand, gently pulling you forward “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

The water laps at your ankles, cold enough to make you gasp but not enough to stop you. Steve steps closer, pressing his chest against your back, his arms wrapping around you like a warm shield. You feel the goosebumps on your skin, mostly because of the water temperature. The feeling of having his bare chest brushing against your back is overwhelming.

“See?” He whispers, his breath tickling your ear “Not so bad.”

You take a tentative step forward, then another, until the water reaches your knees. Steve squeezes your waist as he secures you. The cold shocks your skin, but it's bearable when he's holding you. He splashes you lightly all of a sudden, and it takes you by surprise. You squeal, wiping your eyes and grinning.

“Oh, it’s on” You say, gathering water in your hands and splashing it back at him.

He laughs, stepping back to dodge the splash but tripping slightly and pulling you down with him into the shallow water. You both come up laughing, dripping wet and breathless. Steve’s hands are everywhere– on your shoulders, your waist, your back. He's clinging like he never wants to let go. You cup his face, wiping a stray of water droplet from his cheek, and he leans into your touch in a way that it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You smile, brushing your fingers through his wet hair “Yeah. You were right.”

He pulls you close again, and this time there’s no teasing, no laughter, just quiet warmth and hope hanging between your lips. The water still laps gently around your legs, but all the chill has faded away, replaced by the heat radiating between you and Steve. His hands slide up slowly, cradling your face with surprising tenderness. His thumb brushes your cheek, tracing the curve of your jaw. You lean into the touch, your lips parting just a fraction, like an invitation.

Steve leans in too, his breath is warm against your skin. The space between you closes until it disappears entirely, and then your lips meet. The kiss is gentle at first, you’re both testing the water, but then it deepens. His mouth moves with careful hunger, he’s memorizing the shape of you, savoring the softness and your taste.

You close your eyes, letting yourself fall into it. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer until there’s nowhere left to go but into him. Your tongue laps against his and you hear a soft groan in the back of his throat. The cool water presses against your legs, but all you can feel is the warmth spreading through your chest. When you finally pull back, breathless and smiling, Steve rests his forehead against yours.

“Yeah, definitely the best part of the day.”

You laugh softly, fingers tangling in his wet hair “Agreed.”

The sun has dipped lower now, casting golden lights over the lake’s surface. You sit side by side on the blanket Steve spread out earlier, your legs stretched toward the water, fingers still intertwined.

He is quiet for a long moment, watching the gentle, slow sunset. Then he finally speaks, without looking at you first, his voice carrying roughness as the same time it's steady.

“You know… I don’t say this much” He starts, swallowing hard, feeling like he’s holding something heavy in his chest “But… you mean a hell of a lot to me.”

You squeeze his hand gently, encouraging him. You feel your heart thundering in your chest. He takes a shaky breath, eyes finally meeting yours, they're vulnerable and honest.

“I still get these… these moments where I feel like my heart’s breaking all over again because of my parents. It’s as if there's this weight I carry, even when I’m supposed to be past it.”

A flash of pain crosses his face, and you see the way his eyes glisten, as though he’s barely holding back tears.

“But… when I’m with you? I don’t feel so alone. You make all the hurt… less scary.”

You shift closer, brushing his cheek “Steve…”

He smiles “You’re the best thing I never knew I needed.”

You lean in and rest your forehead against his “You’re the best thing I ever wanted.”

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and for the first time in a long while, you see something peaceful settle over him.

@kellyxo1 @sammybrrr @zafetycar @andvys @hellfire--cult @skeltnwrites @ghost-proofbaby @eddiesxangel

[witherby]

LW first crush??? Or first time being crushed on???

👉👈

I love it when the hive mind comes together 🤝

Listen, I took the general concept of what you guys are asking for and made this. It's 4100+ words. Don't look at me 🙈

Littlest Wayne: Piety

Masterlist is Here!

"True piety hath in it nothing weak, nothing sad, nothing constrained. It enlarges the heart; it is simple, free, and attractive." - Francois Fenelon

Growing up in a family of rich people moonlighting as vigilantes, you're more than used to chaos. Secret-keeping, combat training, socializing with the Gotham Elite, and helping your grandfather patch up one of your brothers or parents after patrol are some of the routine shenanigans you have to deal with on a regular basis, and you aren't even a vigilante yourself.

School is supposed to be your little slice of normalcy, where you can decompress as a civilian amongst other civilians. Just go to class, talk to your friends, and maybe participate in an extracurricular if you want! That's it! Nice and simple! You love it when things are nice and simple!

So the fact that a gang of arsonists are currently holding your class hostage during a field trip to Metropolis Conservatory and threatening to burn down everything and everyone inside, is really fucking annoying you!!

"Hi, dad," you mumble into your backup cellphone. The arsonists took everyone's phones when they raided the conservatory, but Bruce made you keep two on hand for this exact scenario. "Don't freak out. There's a —"

"I know." He sounds freaked out. You barely suppress a sigh. "It's on the news. Clark is off-world with Hal or you'd be safe by now. ETA is twenty minutes for me, and 17 for Jason. Are you hurt?"

"No," you whisper, "they haven't done anything yet. I'm in the Butterfly Garden with my —"

You quiet down when one of the men turns and makes eye contact with you. You hunch over and press your hands against your head as though frightened, but you're trying to keep your cellphone concealed.

Bruce calls your name, audibly stressed. You can hear his car picking up speed on the highway. You click your tongue to reassure him you're fine. When the man looks away again, you relax a bit.

"There's at least five of them," you whisper as softly as possible. "Probably more. The lighting isn't bright or dim enough to cast shadows in here."

Overcast days are your biggest pet peeve. The level of darkness required to manipulate shadows is lax, but for some reason, the very rare occasions in which a space is simultaneously too light and too dark make it impossible to use your ability. You can see shadows being cast on the floor. You can feel them, even. But they aren't solid enough to control. It's like trying to stop water from slipping through your fingers; it works for a minute until you inevitably watch it seep through the spaces in between.

"No talking!" One of the men barks. You exhale slowly and keep still.

"You're gonna be fine. Stay calm and do everything they ask of you," Bruce says. "I'm entering the city now, and Jason is thirteen minutes out. We'll be there as soon as possible."

You click your tongue again, then hang up and slip the phone up your jacket sleeve. You hug your waist and draw your knees up, scowling at the dirt underneath you like it's personally responsible for what's going on right now.

A dark hand reaches over to clutch your arm. You glance to your right to spot Chiffon, your best friend, frowning worriedly at you.

"You okay?" She mouths. You nod and place your hand over hers, giving it a quick squeeze.

"Are you?" You mouth back. She nods as well. She doesn't seem frightened so much as irritated. Chiffon told you on the bus ride over that she was wearing all new clothes for the field trip, and now the two of you are sitting on the ground with your other classmates so it's likely dirtying them up.

"Are ya done yet!? How long does it take to swap out a fucking flag..." One of the arsonists complains into a radio on his hip. "I'm gettin' itchy, man. I don't even care about the message anymore; I need to feel the heat. I need to see somethin' burn before some dumbass Meta shows up and ruins the fun. I'm about to just strike my matchbook!"

Oh, shit. That was good news and bad news. Good, because fire casts shadows you can manipulate. Bad, because the arsonists also have guns, and you might not be able to subdue them all before one gets a lucky shot off. You have a soft, squishy body and no kevlar to protect it right now, which your family routinely complains about every time you leave the house. The vindication on their faces after this is gonna suck hard.

"The flag's up!" The radio crackles. You and your classmates tense up. "Light this joint!"

The three arsonists in the butterfly room with you pick up the cans at their feet and start pouring the contents out. The sharp smell of gasoline hits your nose and your classmates start complaining and shouting at them to stop.

"You're not actually doing this, right!?"

"Oh my god...oh my god!"

"Hey! Burn down whatever building you want, but let us out first you psychos!!"

"I was gonna skip school today. I wish I had!"

"I don't wanna die!!"

One of the men takes out a gun and fires a round into the ceiling. Colors whip around you as the butterflies all take off in a flurry. There's some brief shrieking and screaming, which makes you cover your ears, but when he starts aiming at your classmates, everybody gets quiet real fast, nothing but quick breathing and wingbeats disturbing the peace.

"Good," he sneers. "Listen here, you little squealers: it's your very unlucky day today. We staked out this spot until we knew Superman wouldn't be here t'save the day, and that just so happened to coincide with your stupid field trip. We're sendin' a message to that alien freak to stop meddling in human affairs, and you all get the honor of contributing to that message."

"Who's ready to be martyrs!!" The second one shouts, splashing gasoline in yours and your classmates' direction.

You gasp and scramble to your feet when your arm and shoulder gets splashed. You tug Chiffon up and usher her behind you, scowling. Your temper flares, made worse by your current inability to stop any of this from happening, and despite your father's warnings you begin lashing out.

"That doesn't make any sense, dumbass!" You snap.

"The fuck'd you say?" The man growls. Your pulse jackknifes, heart hammering wildly in your chest, but you don't falter. "I asked you a question!!"

"Martyrs are killed for supporting a cause, not objecting to it. None of us want to be part of this! We're just here for a stupid field trip!"

Chiffon grips your wrist painfully tight, hissing at you to be quiet. You know you should listen to her, but if help doesn't come fast enough and you die, you're at least gonna die having fought back. You're gonna die having tried.

"Did I ask what you wanted, kid?" The man says, stepping so close that you feel like the gas fumes coming from his jerrican are getting you high. "Hmm? Did any of us say "oh, raise your hands if you don't wanna be hostages?" No, we didn't."

"Did any of you take a second to think "oh, maybe I don't wanna be child murderers today?" No, you didn't."

The arsonist snorts.

"I dunno. Sounds to me like you wanna be the kindling."

He reaches out and grabs your arm with more force than you anticipate, yanking you away from your group. You yelp in pain, instinctively lifting your fist to strike him in the neck. He chokes and coughs as you brutalize his Adams apple, but doesn't let go of your arm. Instead, he uses the hand holding the gas can to strike you back. It connects with your head, and when you blink, you're suddenly lying on the floor and your temple is throbbing.

Aw fuck, you think, vision blurred. It's so hard to tell up from down right now. You feel your clothes getting splashed with more gasoline. You hear your schoolmates screaming and shouting in terror for the inevitable. You see an indecipherable ocean of colors dancing around you, butterflies trying in vain to escape the fate you're all about to share. You hear someone strike a match.

Oh, please don't make my parents identify the remains. Please don't do that to them.

You close your eyes and try to steady the trembling in your limbs, hoping the pain doesn't last long.

The screaming reaches a crescendo, causing a sharp ringing in your ears. You flinch and press your hands to your head, just barely stifling a sob. There's a loud, crashing sound, and gunfire all around you. The ground reverberates when people start running, bolting in all directions, and you're unable to make yourself look at what's going on.

Heat licks at your side. The fire is spreading and the crackling drives a spike through your heart. You are deathly afraid. You want your parents. You want your brothers. You want your grandpa.

Something hits the ground beside you, right as you feel your sleeve catch fire, and you yelp when a pair of hands start to pat it out before it can spread.

"Hey, hey! It's okay! It's fine, look at me, you're okay!"

Relief makes your stiff limbs slacken, and you crack an eye open to find a stranger staring down at you. It's not your father, it's not Jason, and it's not one of your classmates.

It's...a boy wearing a Superman suit, but with a black, leather jacket thrown on top of it. He's looking at you with the widest, brightest blue eyes you've ever seen. They seem to become impossibly wider when he locks onto your own.

He's very handsome, your brain musters in between all the panic. Shiny black hair that was buzzed underneath and long at the top, clear, tanned skin, and near-effeminate facial features are the most eye-catching bits you pick up on.

He doesn't seem to be phased by the fire crackling around you, but you cannot say the same. When you try to breathe in, the hot smoke fills your lungs and you start coughing painfully, grimacing.

The boy frowns — you realize belatedly he'd been grinning before — and shrugs his jacket off. He drapes it gently on top of your head to block out the flames and smoke, then gets an arm under your back and behind your knees to lift you up.

"Hold on a second!" He says, and then you're suddenly outside and being laid down on the grass. The jacket is removed and your breathing gets much easier now that you're in the open air. He kneels next to you again, checking on your arm. "You okay?"

You give him a jerky nod and a thumbs up. You don't recognize this Meta. Did uncle Clark have a kid and forget to tell anybody? It wouldn't be the first time, like when he got engaged to Lois a couple years back and realized he'd neglected to send out any wedding invitations.

This boy looks your age, though. How would Clark have avoided bringing him up for so many years, even in passing?

"Who are you?" You mumble, voice still slightly hoarse from the smoke inhalation. The conservatory is quickly being consumed by flames, if the steadily brightening orange and red in your periphery is anything to go by. You hear sirens quickly approaching in the distance, and wonder where the arsonists went. You wonder where your classmates are, too. Did everyone make it out?

The boy smiles at you again, wide and proud, and gestures to the symbol on his chest.

"I'm Superman. You and your school buddies are safe now, I promise."

"Oh," you say, and wonder if the hit to your head is affecting you worse than you thought, because you are definitely not looking at Superman.

--

When Conner opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is Lex Luthor. He recognizes him immediately, instinctively, despite never having met before now.

"Can you hear me?" Lex asks. Conner nods his head. The motion is new. It feels practiced. The dichotomy is throwing him for a loop as he steps out of the capsule he'd spent weeks growing in. His eyes dart around the space, taking in the other staff members present in the lab. Some of their names and faces click together like scattered puzzle pieces in his mind, while others are strangers he holds no information about.

He knows these people. They've just been introduced this very second. He feels helpless. He feels his immense powers buzzing under his skin.

Lex is talking, and Conner listens. Conner is an experiment. Conner is the result of years of work and programming. Conner is a success in a long line of failures.

He would have had siblings if they'd survived. He wouldn't be alone in these warring sensations and feelings. He would've had someone to relate to.

Conner is a success, but he woke up early. Didn't age enough. Conner is less than an hour old, but he's physically a teenager. He is supposed to be older. He is supposed to be bigger. He needs to be better than Superman. He's a success, but there is more work to be done.

His brain is packed full of theoretical knowledge with no practice. He knows what he can do but not how to do it. How to fly. How to control his super strength. How to shoot lasers from his eyes. How to summon ice breath. How to block out the overwhelming inputs to his brand new senses.

Lex is talking, and Conner listens. He gets coached through handling himself and reigning in his power. It's clinical and professional. He practices in another part of the lab for days. He does not learn how to speak for a week. No one had noticed beforehand.

Superman got years to do this. Superman got to grow into his body, not have it be grown for him and his consciousness injected into it. Superman got to take his time to become great. Conner does not have that time. He's told he doesn't need it.

Conner succeeds, because he is the better Superman as he was made to be. He is praised for his quick adaptiveness and brilliant control. He wishes he knew what a hug felt like.

He's given a suit and has to learn how to put it on. He's got knowledge of what he is and what he can do and who he is supposed to be, but they did not think to implant in him the knowledge of dressing or hygiene or socialization. He's got all the skills of a person with none of the experience. He's an egg shell walking on egg shells.

Lex is talking, and Conner listens. He's told that he is ready for action. Superman is not around to stop a crisis from occurring right now, so he must take charge and show Metropolis that a new hero has emerged. One that is reliable and mighty and belongs to this planet.

Conner is a hero. He is reliable and mighty and belongs to this planet.

"Make me proud, son," Lex Luthor tells him, flashing his teeth in a wide smile as he pats Conner's shoulder.

Conner grins back. He will not disappoint. He was made to do this. He is Superman. A better Superman. He is Metropolis' hero.

He knows the way to the Metropolis Conservatory, despite never having been there before. The layout of the city is implanted in his mind. He knows it like the back of his hand.

Nevermind that he's only known the back of his hand for all of three weeks.

He does not fly as quickly to the Conservatory as he's capable. The sensation of wind against his face is so new it stuns him in the air for a minute. The warmth of the sun against his body is so comforting that he learns how to cry in that same, stunned minute. The speed at which he flies dries any tears he might shed, and the excitement of getting to help save his city prevents an overload.

He sees the defaced American flag as he approaches, turned upside down and half-burnt, and the anti-alien flag hanging proudly right above it. He uses x-ray vision to spot the ten arsonists scattered amongst the Conservatory. He sees the class of students corralled into the butterfly garden, with one brave and impulsive soul daring to take a stand.

He knows he's impervious to flames, which gives him the confidence to swoop in and rescue everyone trapped inside the building. Only the three arsonists holding the students hostage need any medical attention ("Grip strength, Conner, we've been over this. You need to work on your grip strength!") due to how roughly he'd pulled them out of there. The rest, he's able to collect and deposit in a little pile of bodies, taking the rope off of the flag pole to tie them all up together.

Then he goes back for the civilians. The building is quickly evacuated and everybody moved to the large lawn behind the conservatory. He leaves the building to burn — he can hear firetruck sirens going off in the distance, piercing his ears and making his breathing quicken. He could use more practice tuning out the overwhelming sounds of everyday life. He will ask Lex to help him hone the skill.

There is one more civilian to rescue. He can see minor injuries on their body he doesn't want to exacerbate. When he kneels next to them to pat out the fire, he is as gentle as he can physically be. They're trembling and shaking from fear, and he musters up the words to console them.

This will be the very first person he's spoken to outside of the lab. He cannot afford to feel shy, despite the novelty of the emotion.

"Hey, hey! It's okay! It's fine, look at me, you're okay!"

And they do. You do. You open your eyes and ensnare him with your gaze.

Something deep, very deep inside him, clicks together, and the world becomes quiet.

There is nothing else.

There is no one else.

The only thing he can see is you. The only thing he can hear is you. The only thing he can feel is you.

Conner's world shifts so fundamentally to accommodate you, it's like he's never known anything else.

He is not Metropolis' hero. He is your hero. He is your anything. He is your everything. All you need to do is ask it, and he'll make it happen. Conner cannot live the rest of his pitifully short life without you. He simply won't survive.

Your mouth opens to reply to him. He leans forward, beaming, eager to hear the sound of your voice like a dog to his master's key turning in the door.

You start coughing. The rest of his senses kick back online, and he remembers that you are in a burning building that nearly burned you with it. He can hear your lungs straining against the smokey air, and that won't do at all.

"Hold on a second!" He says, removing his jacket to cover your face and mouth from the worst of the fire. When Conner gets his arms around you to take you to safety, his whole body seems to zing where you make contact. You fit against him perfectly. He memorizes your weight and warmth as he flies out of the conservatory.

Out in the daylight, under the bright sky, you are somehow even more stunning. The sight of your eyes shining under the light when he uncovers your face sears itself into his memory. It's a fight against his every instinct to stop cradling you and just sit in the grass (and isn't it something, that he's never felt how soft grass is and doesn't care in comparison to your presence) and admire you.

"You okay?" He asks, instead of "Do you feel this, too? Do I create the same, soft weight in your chest like you have in mine? Do you feel like we belong to one another?"

You nod and give him a thumbs up. It's better than any praise Lex and the other lab assistants have ever given him. He memorizes the shape of your thumbprint at just a glance and wonders if Lex will give him a pen and paper later so he can draw it.

"Who are you?"

You're talking to him. You're talking to him. You asked him a question and you're talking to him. Every word crashes into his ears like waves against the shore, and he almost drowns in it.

There's a brief war in his mind. He wants to hear you say his name. He wants to know what the word sounds like on your lips. He also knows that this is his debut as the next superhero. He needs to leave a good impression. He needs you to like him. He grins and points to the sign of Hope on his chest, because he was made to be —

"I'm Superman. You and your school buddies are safe now, I promise."

He clocks your obvious confusion, but it doesn't hurt his feelings. He is, after all, claiming someone else's title. The Superman you know is not the best one for you. Lex taught him that. Conner just needs to prove that he deserves to take that name, that he is worthy of the same accolades and respect that the alien predecessor is getting.

After all, the alien isn't the one that saved the day today. Conner is.

"Let's get you to a medic, okay?" He says, offering his arms to you, palms up. You glance around, then nod, and he's got you cradled in his chest again.

The knowledge of what uniforms a first responder would wear is already embedded in his mind. It helps him locate the proper people to hand you off to when the cacophony of colorful clothing and swarming bodies threaten to overwhelm him. He can pick out police, who are busy untying and detaining the arsonists. He can pick out firemen, who are hooking up hoses to extinguish the roaring flames. He can pick out journalists, who seem eager to talk to him after what he's just done.

More people to talk to. More socializing to be done. He spares you one last glance, memorizing the exact shade of your eye color with a fond smile, then focuses up to finish the job. He's got to make Lex proud. He's got to let the city know that a new player's stepped onto the board. He hopes you'll watch his interview segment.

In the aftermath, when all is said and done and he returns to LexCorp to report to Luthor, he realizes he doesn't know your name.

Late in the evening, after going over everything he did right and wrong, after more training, after honing his body even further to become the better Superman, he lies in his cot and tunes into the world, instead of tuning it out.

He listens, and listens, and listens.

He catches it. Your voice, not in Metropolis but its sister-city beyond the water. Gotham, if his implanted memory serves.

You're talking to your family, who sound like they're dressed to leave somewhere while you remain behind. He listens to them exit your home, one by one. He listens to you walking around different textured rooms. Hardwood. Carpet. Linoleum. He listens to you climb into bed and open a book, turning the page approximately every minute and thirty-two seconds. He listens to the rhythm of your breathing and matches his own to follow. He listens to your heartbeat, strong and steady in your chest, because he saved your life today.

Conner inhales when you inhale. He exhales when you exhale. He repeats this action until you eventually bookmark your place and settle down to sleep, then matches his breathing to your new, sleeping pace. This continues for hours, that deep, instinctual part of him just barely sated by listening to you from so far away.

He needs to meet you again. Properly, as Conner and...

Conner frowns.

He has to learn your name.

The next morning, he asks Lex if Gotham needs a Superman, too.

[coldilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 2

______________

"why can't my parent just claim me? My human parent doesn't like me, and now you're telling me there's a chance my godly parent might not even care about me at all?" You huff kicking a rock while walking to the dining pavilion

Annabeth's eyes fill with sympathy "You never know, maybe they're just busy"

"busy my ass... I've heard that excuse so many times before" you sit down at the Hermes table, where all the unwanted children sit

"So (Name), are you going to be a year round student or just for the summer, because we're gonna need Mr.D to sign you in" Travis Stoll one of the head counselors says to you

You think about it for a while, you saw how other children treated each other like family, how there was a director who loves the children as his own, you could find your place here, it doesn't matter if you have parents, you could find your family, just as everyone else in this camp did

"I-" then you stop, you mind going back to the Manor, how you left the hallways burning, and now you're missing, are they worried? Do they want to find you? What if they think you set the house on fire? Would you even have a home to return to?

It's not like you were as loved as Jason who could just die and come back

This set your decision, you are never going back to that cold mansion, you are never going to sleep in a silent room, here, you could build a life for yourself

"I'd like to stay year round" you say

"well that settles it, I'll explain the rules to you later 'kay?" He says

The infamous Mr.D seemingly groaned, you're pretty sure you heard him mumbling "another fucking kid"

___________________

Two days have passed, you feel like the happiest kid on earth

Annabeth is doing this thing where she's trying to help you find your godly parent, you couldn't care less(or could you?), but listen-

Yesterday you just shot 25 consecutive bullseyes and you've never felt so amazing, everyone was clapping their hands and we're praising you, and everyone was saying you were a natural at farming, sword fighting was one you enjoyed, you know a thing or two about combat so you gained respect from the other campers

But even after all those achievements, no one came to claim you

Now you're trying blacksmithing, you loved all the things you did but... The weapons were kinda ugly, every sword in the weaponry looked the same, only special kids get customized swords, so you were kinda hoping to make your own custom weapons and stuff, I mean no parent is gonna give it to you

"Hello!" You smile at the busy forgers, they acknowledge and some nod and some smile back

____________________

Tim looks at CCTV cameras, his eyes wide and in disbelief

A random woman, who somehow broke into the Manor, with a flamethrower, burned a hallway down

He saw this kid, well his little sibling, but I don't think it's appropriate to call you that, you ran crying for help- well you weren't crying for help exactly but you were screaming, you were seen running for your life away from this madwoman

whom he'll safely assume is one of his father's ex lovers or some villain that decided to get back at him

The problem was you.

No sign of you at all

Batman had everyone patrolling, Bruce Wayne reported you missing, a prize reward given to the one who'll find you dead or alive (alive hopefully)

There was this image he couldn't get out of his mind

In the middle of trying to salvage what could be saved in that fire... He spotted a family picture, a picture where everyone was still visible- and only your face had been burned off

He tried to help with the search, thinking about where you could go, what you could do, but he couldn't

He didn't know how you acted or how you'd decide

He knew nothing about you, and so did the others, it was like you were already dead before it was even confirmed

Damian walked in the room "you're still here? Dad already got the JL to help with search, quit trying to show them up"

"I just don't get it, she ran to the garden, but she wasn't there- could there be other villains waiting in the garden and took her? I don't know-"

The demon spawn scoffed "Anyways dad wants you to send the CCTV footage to JL, they said they'll analyze it or something"

Tim was doubtful, it's not like anyone there could spot what he couldn't, he was very observant (of everyone but (name) apparently)

____________________

Sorry it took a long time for me to update 😞, it was pt week and I had a lot of projects

But I wonder who could possibly be (name)'s godly parent?and who could spot what Tim couldn't?

@bat1212 @jisnothere @erikasurfer @nathaly36

[max-nico]

Would you like an excerpt from a DCXDP fic I'm never going to finish ? Too bad. It's already posted.

Feel free to add on, it's completely out of my hands now lol

Tw: fighting with parents, almost exclusively dialogue since it's unfinished

"Back again, are we?"

"Shut up."

Danny grins at Jason's pout. It's all sharp fangs and shark teeth, crammed into something much too wide to be wolfish.

"So, what'd your old man do?"

"The same shit as always." Jason scoffs, crossing his arms. "He even got on me for cursin' this time. Can you believe that? Like that windbag has any right to boss me around..."

"I mean, isn't he your legal guardian and you his sidekick?"

"I ain't no sidekick! We're partners!"

Danny levels the eleven year old with a flat look. "I'm having a hard time believing you. Either way, he's still your legal guardian so he does, unfortunately, have some right to boss you around."

"I thought you were s'posed to be agreeing with me."

"And when have I ever done that?"

"Not a damn time."

"Exactly."

A pause.

"You're annoying."

"Clearly I'm better than the old windbag back at home bossing you around, huh?"

"Don't say it so smugly, he's not a hard person to be better than."

"That's not what you were saying when he first took you in."

"I was stupid and naive back then, now I know better."

Danny snorts.

"Does he even know where you run off to after your arguments?"

"No, your ghost hoodoo shit disables all my trackers once I get a block away from your house."

Ah, his haunt is growing nicely then. Very good.

"So you're leading an overprotective Batman right to me? Wow, I'm really feeling the love here, Jason."

"Oh shut your gob man, he won't do nothing to you as long as I'm here."

"Less comforting than you think, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"Yeah whatever."

There's a thick pause between them. Danny doesn't take any mind to it, but he can see Jason growing more restless by the second.

"It's jus..." The boy starts to spill, a tiny quiver to his bottom lip. "He said something real mean to me... I-I don't think I wanna go back."

"What'd he say?"

"It's stupid..."

"Can't be that stupid if it hurt your feelings bad enough for you to run away again."

Jason is silent for another moment, his eyes flicking side to side as he argues with himself.

"H-He said that he ain't my daddy, and I need to shape up and stop making him act like one." He paraphrases. "I already know he's not my dad, I'm the one who said it first, but I don't- I can't- It's... If it's the truth, why'd it hurt so much when he said it?"

Danny's not really equipped to deal with big feelings like this, at least probably not in the way Jason needs. Being a therapist has always been his older sister's thing, Danny never really had a knack for it. He can try, though. He can help... Somewhat? He can sit with the kid, or talk him down, or maybe enable a bad habit or two for the night. Not a perfect solution, but it's what he's got in the meantime.

"Sometimes the truth hurts." Danny shrugs. "Maybe if you can change the truth or...? Actually, I don't fucking know. I was talking out of my ass."

"And when have you not done that?"

"Not a damn time."

"Exactly."

"You're such a little jerk!"

And then they're squabbling on the floor of Danny's house. It's nicer than most around Crime Alley, but the wood floors still give them splinters when they roll around. It's good, and so familiar to Jason he almost feels like he's home again.

When they've finally ceased their petty fight, Jason sighs, his training allowing him to be only sightly out of breath.

"You'll keep the bat away for a couple nights, won'tcha?"

"You know I try to keep him away from here every night."

"Y-Yeah, but try extra hard for tonight, kay?"

"You got it kiddo."

Bonus:

Bruce looks for Jason for three days before he turns up again. Every time he's gone looking for him, he ends up back at the batcave. It's the weirdest thing Bruce has ever seen.

Unfortunately, this is also grounds for getting magic users involved. How irritating.

Jason is like 11-12ish and was taken in by Bruce when he was a very early 10yrs old. Danny is barely 19. I have backstory for how he got where he is stored in my brain, but idk if I'm actually gonna write it.

Also, I am a good parent Bruce believer, but he is the smartest idiot alive. He's making a lot of mistakes, just at the cost of his relationship with his kids, unfortunately.

Askbox and DMs are open. I implore you to chat/interact with my posts. This is a safe space.

[igotanidea]

Bumpy road: Jason Todd x reader

Aka: the one with the first fight.

***

They were warning her.

*They* as in pretty much everyone – family, friends, even strangers on the street.

They were warning her that every relationship hits a rough path sooner or later. That the honeymoon phase cannot last forever. That arguments, fights, misunderstandings and other rocks on the yellow road of Oz are about to happen.

Like she was a kid, not knowing that already.

Of course she was aware of all that! Hell – her parents had enough of a clash of characters and silent days to somehow immunize her against it.

She thought herself ready for the stormy days, making a bucket list of things she wouldn’t do with Jason.

Like *not going to bed angry* or *talking through things* or other silly and completely immature naïve things.

Well – having a plan and putting it into action turned out to be two completely different things.

***

The shy sun on the sky, gentle wind and little white fluffy clouds were nothing of a sign of an impending torment.

Y/N was walking back home from work, having taken a few hours for a personal leave with a set date of working it off. Though if it meant spending 10 hours in the office on Thursday to have some more time with Jay on Friday, so be it. 

Absolutely worth it.

Not even fighting the happy smile forming on her face, thinking about the little surprise she had planned for him, she rode along the streets humming the songs coming from the car radio.

Even their shabby apartment in the shitty district of Gotham seemed more vibrant for no reason.

“Jay? Jay, I’m home!” her bag landed on the rack, shoes on the shelf, coat in the wardrobe. “babe? You’re here? Oh – oh, Jay, what happened?”

Jason was sitting on the couch, staring blankly into the space, fidgeting with his phone, but not paying any attention to whatever might have flashed on the screen. Anyone else might have been fooled, after all Jason always seemed a little detached and immersed in his own thoughts, especially when he was alone. Y/N was not one of those people, seeing through him almost instantly.

“Hey?” The soft sound of bare feet on the floor approaching him from the side finally threw him off and back into reality. 

“Hey.” No smile, no sparkles in the eyes, no sign of acknowledgment. Only a slight flinch as if he was trying to pull back and away from her.

Y/N frowned.

“Jace-“

“I’m busy.” His gaze immediately fell back onto the screen, scrolling mindlessly, finding himself a substitute occupation.

“With what?”

“God, why are you being so nosy?” Jason rolled his eyes, not stopping whatever was so interesting.

“Nosy?”

“Yes, nosy. I’m browsing, ok? How do you think I get the fucking intel for patrolling?”

“Through a Facebook page?” she tried to crack the joke.

“Yeah. That too. Do you want to go through my texts now? Is this what this is about?”

“What? No, of course no. What’s with the hostility?”

“I’m not fucking hostile.”

“Right… Not at all.”

“I just need some freaking silence, is that too hard to understand?”

“No, no, it’s fine.” It was shockingly difficult to say those words, considering the fact she made quite different plans for the afternoon, but apparently the relationship also required compromising. Even if the meaning of the word was forgetting about oneself all together, all for the benefit of the other half of the duet.  “I’ll go get us some snacks, hm? And maybe I could help you with – “

“Whatever.”

Oh, okay. He wasn’t hostile, he was indifferent.

Or maybe just busy.

Right, right, of course, just busy, it was okay. First time for everything, even ignoring her.

She could understand it, obviously, being understanding and giving him necessary space like any considerate girlfriend would.

***

Shit broke free three days later.

Any target group asked would unanimously agree that Monday mornings were absolutely the worst, and external circumstances had nothing to do with it. The loads of easy work from Friday that could be left and handled on Monday suddenly became increasingly difficult and seemed to multiply.

99% of people liked that.

Y/N was no exception.

Good humor? Gone.

Optimistic attitude? Lost.

Exhaustion? Skyrocketing.

Sudden thirst for blood and unparalleled rage? Present.

Incoming storm in her relationship….?

Yeah… Inevitable.

***

It was like the entertainment replay.

Jason was sitting on the couch, staring blankly into space, fidgeting with his phone… yadda, yadda, yadda.

Only this time she had zero patience and zero strength to handle it, heading straight to the bathroom, wiping her makeup, cleaning her face.

Standing in front of the mirror, removing the mascara, the foundation, putting her hair in a messy bun, slowly transforming back into her domestic version.

Just. Wanting. Some. Rest.

Meeting with an angered, almost reproachful look on her boyfriend’s face.

Once again, trying to be sympathetic.

“Hi.”

Jason grunted.

“What’s going on?” she tried again.

He rolled his eyes.

“Oh for crying out loud!”

“Stop being a bitch.”

“a – a bitch? I’m sorry, what the-“

“Yes, bitch. You heard me right. You’ve barely been giving me attention lately!”

“Attention!? What the hell, Jason!? You’ve been AWOL!”

“I’ve been here all the time!”

“In body! But sure as hell not in mind! You spend eight hours in front of the phone and computer on Saturday!”

“Did you go through my PC?” he took a step back, fury in his eyes taking her by surprise.

“What? No! What is this about!?”

“Did you go through-“

“Jason!”

“Did you!?” he half-yelled and all her resolutions about being an understanding, caring partner, showing respect and love for the other one went through the window. 

“Are you accusing me of spying on you!?”

“Maybe I am! Answer the fucking question!”

“You’re paranoid!” she yelled. “Yes!” though it wasn’t true at all. “Yes, I did. Happy now!?” she hissed with a vindictive smirk, suddenly wanting to enrage him further for no reason in particular. Maybe for the sheer satisfaction of giving him the same shit he was giving her.

“Brat!”

“Asshole!”

“Idiot!”

“Jerk!”

“I hate you!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t; have gotten into a relationship with me in the first place!”

“You know what?” he hissed, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t have because-“

“Because you’re an asshole-!”

“Because you’re completely immature!”

“Oh, I’m immature!” Y/N cried out, throwing her hands in the air “hypocrite! You’re always go about work and job  and crime rate and vigilantism and crime lords and-“

“You fucking knew it! You fucking knew who I was when we started – “

“You have changed!” her words came without any thinking and Jason felt like it was a slap. For a moment eerie silence, electrified with tension fell between them.

The only sounds being the heavy beating of their hearts, ragged breaths and unbearable weight of both spoken and unspoken words.

“Maybe I did.” He said coldly.

“Yeah, maybe you did. But maybe it’s my fault.”

“Maybe I fucked up your life.”

“Maybe.”

“And maybe you fucked up mine.”

“Right.”

The screaming match turned into an exchange of icy cold gazes and sharp as knives words.

First fight and they were already pulling out the arguments that their relationship might have been a mistake.

Y/N flinched internally realizing she was acting exactly like her parents after 15 years of marriage.

Though clearly the generational trauma poured on her, resulted in an accelerated speed and she was becoming a hag after 15 months.

Fucking great. If anyone was a hypocrite, she just scored a gold star in the category.

Not that she was going to admit it, since he started it.

Besides he was a man, and she was a woman so it was his responsibility to resolve –

God! She was having every little hated characteristic of her mother.

“Do we break up?” he asked and her eyes grew wider.

So easily?

Giving up without fighting or trying to fix things?

Seriously?!

Did he even love her at all or was it all just a game?

“Y/N?”

“What?”

“Do we break up?”

“You know what, let’s finish this. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“You didn’t answer the –“

“Just leave me alone!”

So much for *not going to bed angry*.

***

In the back of his head, Jason turned into a little kid.

It wasn’t like he enjoyed this stupid fight and the amount of harsh words and malignancy terrified him.

Truly.

Just like back in the days when he had to stand up for his mother when she was fighting with another pathetic counterfeit of a man.

It was hard to grow up without any male role model, but even if he didn’t know who he wanted to be as a partner, he had a clear idea of who he didn’t want to be.

He hated the concept, the sheer possibility of becoming suspicious, violent, aggressive in words, crude and rude. The exact image of what he had just displayed towards her.

The woman he loved.

The woman he wanted to be protective and  supportive of.

“Great fucking job, Jason.” He hissed to himself and even though his body was aching to rush to the bedroom, wrap arms around her and silently apologize with hugs and warmth stupid pride prevented him.

She started this after all.

And in the back of his mind he was a five year old, starving for affection and validation, feeling like there was no one who loved him.

Like maybe he was doomed and destined to be alone.

Thinking depressing thoughts to the sound of Y/N’s breaking heart behind the thin wall.  

[regret-with-a-u]

Absolute Batman has blown me away. It's been too long since I ever felt like this. My heart is pumping with exciment and my skin is crawling with anticipation.

They finally managed to make an au of Bruce that still is him in his core.

I loved all absolute variants that came out and I'm shitting rainbows waiting for my boy Wally. But I want to focus on something that makes me lose my fucking mind.

There is a "Red Hood" gang in the story, and we all know the og red hood, we do... BUT! I have au ideas <3

what if all the other Robins are also their own character, and they will meet with the Batman later.

What if instead of his sons, they are going to be his lil anoying ass brothers? And sisters??

I don't have the all the connections yet but I have been making myself go crazy with ideas:

As we know Bruce is 2004 - 24 year old. (Cursed Cursed, Cursed)

Dick Grayson - Owlman - 21

After his parents death it was the court that got a hold of him. Bruce was still an angsty teenager when this happened.

later after meeting with the Bat and becoming his own person he becomes the first real Robin of Gotham.

Im gonna also add Wally situation onto him too. I love myself some good ol' birdflash lol.

Jason Todd - Leader of the Red Hood gang - 18 (people think he is 24, voice moderator)

After growing up in crime alley and dealing with abuse all his childhood he grows up to be the red hood, a gang focuses on lowering crime around the city. Trying to take care of each other.

I hadn't thought more about Jason yet, was focused too much on Dick. But I am thinking about Dick as owlman had an another kid with him growing up, and then later helped him escape.

Jason as ex talon could be cool ¯\_( ツ )_/¯

Ps. I aalso would love to see Jason becoming a Bat, "Blood Bat" some people are calling him "Blood Bath" because of the carnage he leaves behind. Maybe I can do that while under the red hood tomfuckery is happening?? Man.

Tim Drake - Don't have a hero name yet lol - 15

Growing up Tim doesn't has any heroes to look up, so he decides to step up himself. No matter what universe he can't help himself to help people.

so using his tech abilities, his stalker ass and his detective skills that came with birth he starts selling out info to police, hood, unknowingly to the owl and knowingly to the bat.

the second Bruce comes in the picture Tim can't sit still. He needs to find out everything. Then he decides to help him. Like how Barbara goes around as Oracle. But I need Tim to be able to fight. Maybe later the killing joke would affect different people but for now I want younger Tim being literally crazy all over the place lol. For now I am side eyeing Selina LMAOOO

I aalso want TimKon but it's gonna be hard to pull it out yet so maybe they meet when Tim is 18-19?? Like with Birdflash, not childhood friends ¯\_( ツ )_/¯

Barbara Gordon - Batwoman - 26

She is a police officer in this universe, and she looks up at batman. I don't know how much younger she is to Bruce. Maybe she is older. But I need her to just find Bruce in one of his safe houses and just straight up tells him "Imma join you <3"

Duke, Cassandra and Stephanie, I still don't have real ideas to put out yet for them. I want Duke to be still signal, Cass to be black bat and Stephanie as the Batgirl.

I don't even know what I will do with Kathy-

......Okay so now she is a he younger cousin and she is going to be Batgirl for a brief moment where Stephanie "dies" maybe maybe maybe. Hmmm. She can later get a different name??? Man the whole family tree is fucked <3

And my funniest idea:

Damian "Wayne - al Ghul" - Robin - 10

Hear me out! I want Damian to be NOT blood related to Bruce at all. He is the one who gets adopted in this story. And after everyone meets his angry ass they try to stop him becoming a vigilante. They fail.

And Dick gives the name Robin to him as he becomes Nightwing. At this point the DC trinity would have already made Absolute Justice League, meaning there would be time for Dick and Clark bonding <3

I just find the idea of Damian being adopted in this universe sweet. It doesn't matter to his blood, it never did, once a son always a son.

These are my ideas for now, I also have funny-angsty crossover ideas. Like Absolutely Robin!Dick meeting other Nightwing variants or their families.

"Fuck you mean Bruce is my father- WHY WAS I IN SPEEDO?!?"

"YOU CHOSE THAT!"

"AND YOU LET ME?!?"

Ehehehhe.

Anygays.

Too much ideas, too much potential. I needed to get this out here before we meet the Absolute Batfam and all my ideas flutter into the black hole that is my pc uwu.

What should I name this au? HMMMM-

[favoritebatfam]

OK, do you know how there’s so much age Fuckery in Canon?

I’m thinking that’s because no one actually has that many legal documents.

Dick Grayson was born in a circus. I don’t know if he was born in a hospital or if it was at homebirth, but it is also kind of likely and (I read it in a fic somewhere) where his parents lied about his age so that he could get away with performing.

Jason Todd was a crime Alley kid who is unceremoniously adopted. He is also still legally dead, and I feel like it is heavily debated in the family if you can count those months that he was dead as him living, or if they shifted his birthday somehow. Bonus points if you think about the post floating around that age resets after you end up in the pit so Jason is now the youngest.

Tim Drake uns so many secret identity scams, that I will not be surprised if he’s genuinely forgotten how old he is. I mean, Janet and Jack could’ve also done the same thing that the Grayson‘s dead and lie about ages so their son would be taken more seriously as an adult and just never remember afterward.

Damian Wayne tends to have more consistent ages, but I still think that his aging might be a little messed up due to the fact he was grown inside of a tube. This is straight from the comics. We don’t know if he came out as a baby, or he came out as a toddler. For all we know, he came out as like a five-year-old because Ra Al Ghul didn’t want to have to deal with his heir being weak.

With Bruce and Alfred, it’s a little hard to justify the age fuckery, but I’ve come up with some ideas things that might help.

I think that Bruce kind of stopped celebrating his birthday after his parents died. He might’ve picked up celebrating again after he adopted dick, but he probably doesn’t put any candles on a cake or anything or at least any number candle. Probably a lot of people have also forgotten how old he is, and a lot of the family are trying to look through newspapers to find out about Bruce’s birth. There could also be some sort of thing where there’s a debate about time travel counting towards his age and if he is older than he is supposed to be or younger or whatever.

Alfred just straight up immortal. he’s done so much in his life that it’s kind of hard to figure out how old or young he could be. I’ve seen a couple different theories floating around where He got blessed by some being, or if you go with the Gotham is sentient theory, Gotham is slowing both his and Bruce’s aging. Also, Alfred is very strong and has to be very fast in order to be able to clean all of the manner and not get sick or die.

Actually, this is kind of pointing towards maybe the bat family having so much to do with the general curses of Gotham or maybe even blessings from being safe, helped that they probably have fucked up ages. I genuinely don’t know. I am sleep deprived and very curious now and will probably make a skit later after I take a nap or look through more Tumblr posts.

Enjoy my ramblings.

[bat-play]

Hi! I don't want to seem rude at all!! I promise I'm not here to hate, I just want to get a grasp on how you see the batfamily?? Is it pure pseudocest? Are there some you think are best platonic? Is there a certain comic/movie/show that made you realise the batfam is better as a non-platonic thing??

I personally don't get it due to Bruce (sort of) raising them from a decently young age but I'm interested in learning and hearing about it from your perspective if you're willing to give it!

If not, that's fine, I don't want this to seem rude or a hate remark.

Look I'm not some philosopher, I just think it's hot dude.

If you want a well-crafted and seriously thought out answer about the history, dynamics and reasons to ship these fictional characters, I'd definitely go to blogs like @inkrats and/or @vintagerobin for that.

What I can add though is another question; Why does the majority of people, including the official writers, think Barbara and Dick are sooo stinking cute together even though that's basically "pseudocest" too?

I mean the modern canon is that Barbara and Dick essentially grew up together. Bruce helped raise them both, considering the amount of time Barbara spent with him. She is a part of the Batfamily. So they are "pseudo siblings" just like Jason and Dick for example. How can antis be like "yeah but it's fine. Oh it's even canon in some stories? yeah that's fine. Yeah no no it's not weird. Also KYS if you ship other batfamily members."

Even if we go by the original canon, Barbara was 7 years older than Dick then if I'm not mistaken. And according to posts I've seen, many antis think anything over a 5 year age difference is pedophilia sooooo. Do you see how stupid this all is?

Hell in the animated version of The Killing Joke, Bruce canonically FUCKED Barbara for no reason other than to just have them do it. And yeah most people didn't really vibe with it but it got MADE dude. It got approved, animated, edited and released without any pushback from the workers/writers involved.  

Like the only real difference I can see is that those ships are straight.

Bottom line is, did anyone get hurt in 2013 when everybody and their mother on this damn site was shipping Levi (30-33) and Eren (15) from AOT? No? That's what I thought. And don't even try denying how big that fucking ship was at that time.

Antis are usually young, passionate kids who mean well but they seriously need to learn how fantasy and reality works. And if they can't? You filter your online experience and take care of yourself.

I personally hate kids for example. I do NOT want to see posts about babies, diapers and pregnant bellies when I'm online. Do I send hate to parents or pregnant people? Demand they stop posting? Of course not. I block, I filter tags, scroll past and move on with my life.

[northlt03]

Rick is known to mirror myths a lot (Silena-Clarisse and Patroclus-Achilles, Polyphemus' cave, Hercules' labors, etc) He could and SHOULD have mirrored the Trojan war in HOO.

Let me set the scene. Gaea doesn't pop up until the last couple books. It's easy to be scared of something that is mentioned but not seen, which in my opinion, is why Gaea in the HOO books just wasn't scary enough.

So the antagonists in the first few books are the Giants working under Gaea's orders. Percy is kidnapped by them and given to the Romans in the hope that the Greeks and the Romans will go batshit crazy in a fight and forget all about the prophecy of the seven and destroying Gaea or whatever.

Camp Halfblood is fully ready for war. As soon as they find out (through an oracle or smth idk) that the Romans exist and they have Percy, not even Chiron can stop them. Percy is the hero of the Battle of Manhattan, of course, and the hero mentioned in the last great prophecy. He's like their modern Aristos Achaion.

Meanwhile, the Romans have no clue what's going on. There's this guy he's funny, he has no memories, he just shows up at their wolf goddess and trains and gets sent to them. Cool.

Juno can't stand to see New Rome be attacked. Whether or not they would win is a whole different story. So she plucks Jason from CJ and brings them to the Greeks just for some sort of a balance.

This mirrors the Trojan war in the sense that Troy was a fortified city, so is New Rome with tons of forts and walls. Aeneas' lineage went on to be Remus and Romulus, the founders of Rome. And Helen of Troy was stolen from the Greeks.

Anyway so there's that conflict, but at the same time Camp Halfblood is getting ready to attack, Jason, Piper and Leo get sent on a quest to rescue Hera who has been captured by Porphyrion and Enceladus.

On the way, Jason starts to regain his memory a little bit, though he doesn't know everything yet. He's still super conflicted with everything. A pretty girl thinks they were dating, Leo says they were best friends, Annabeth says the Romans are enemies. But whom should he really believe?

Piper's whole arc through the first book could be about how she's the daughter of the goddess of beauty, she wrongly assumes her fake crush on Jason was her mom's fault. And she's learned so much bad stuff about her mom from myths, she outright rejects feminity and anything remotely girly at first but then slowly she gets to know Aphrodite isn't as bad as some myths make her out to be. Bonding and shit bc why should Poseidon be the only present godly parent?

Leo, meanwhile, has no idea he can essentially fire bend in the first book. His arc could be about discovering his mother's death was his fault, slightly and coming to terms with it with the help of his friends.

Reyna on the Roman's side is freaking out bc Octavian wants to go to war with the Greeks who are close to attacking them, there's a strange dude who keeps trying to pick fights with gods, a horse girl and not to mention monsters won't fucking DIE.

SON trio go on their quest to Alaska to kill Alcyoneus/ release Thanatos and things are getting clearer to them as well. Just when the Greeks are about to attack on CJ, Polybotes and the monsters attack as well. Somehow, both sides end up fighting the monsters together.

They're not friends, but they're not enemies either, bc Percy is reunited with his gf and Jason is returned to his home.

The Roman senate and the Greeks somehow come to the same conclusions- that a quest needs to go to their ancient lands. Over the next few months the work of the Argo II commences.

Things seem smooth for a while. But Gaea grows restless. She poisons Octavian and manipulates him through dreams and stuff like Kronos did to Luke. As is the nature of most Roman emperors, Octavian overthrows Reyna and declares himself the leader of New Rome like his namesake Octavius Caesar. (HAHA! HISTORY PARALLEL BITCHES)

This puts the actual quest on hold bc the seven now need to find the Athena Parthenos to bring together the Greeks and the Romans and to stop Octavian's plan of trying to fuck as much shit up as possible.

Reyna, Nico and say idk, Grover, are the ones to deviate from the quest and bring the statue to USA again. But the Seven are still very much in Europe after rescuing Nico.

Percy and Annabeth fall into Tartarus which helps close the Doors of Death, except this time since Nico isn't there, Hazel has to take on control over ghosts and the dead in the House of Hades and leading up to it. The powers of mist, in my opinion, should have gone to Piper since charmspeaking is a lot like bending the mist verbally.

Piper's arc through the third and fourth book is starting to discover herself and with the help of her mother, figuring out she doesn't like Jason romantically like she thought she did.

Hazel's arc is gaining control over what she once was (dead). She's jealous her dad was there more for Nico than her, but she pushes past it and never lets her anger and grudges get the better of her which is like breaking boundaries for children of Hades/Pluto.

Frank's arc in HOH was really cool, I like that. So no change to that.

Jason, poor guy is still very much confused about everything really. He's used to being the leader, he feels lost in the large group. He has his moments to shine ofc (please take away his excess amounts of head injuries), but he starts to feel inferior, which is where Leo helps him bc the guy knows what that's like.

Anyway, in the absence of Percy and Annabeth, Jason has to take charge. He discovers he doesn't really like it. That's not what he was meant for even though he had greatness thrust upon him at a very young age.

His BOO arc is earlier this time and takes place throughout HOH and BOO. He's content with himself, even if he isn't with anyone. HE'S THE ONE THAT GETS SENT TO OGYGIA!!!

And Calypso eventually does fall for him bc he's smart, nice, and just an overall swell guy. But he helps her to realize that she can be content in herself as well. And he promises her that he'll help her.

Show me Leo, Jason and Percy trying to think of ways of helping the goddess.

In any case. BOO could have been like Iliad pt 2 also known as the Odyssey. It takes them the whole book just to get to Athens. Meanwhile, they've understood that Gaea is the main main villain. She's even raised some of the other primordials against them.

Percy and Annabeth already saw Tartarus, and then there's Oceanus who makes their travel much harder than necessary. Something something about how they get tossed all over the place and somehow manage to gather all the correct ingredients for the potion (i forgot the name lol) on their small adventures in the different places. In the end they finally make it to Athens. Except this time, there's only a few giants there bc they killed the rest before.

Annabeth and Percy are taken hostage, like it happens in the books, but PERCY WILLINGLY GIVES UP HIS BLOOD TO RAISE GAEA RATHER THAN LETTING ANNABETH GET HURT BC OF HIS FATAL FLAW LIKE ATHENA TOLD HIM WOULD HAPPEN EVENTUALLY!!

The Gods DON'T SHOW UP PLEASE!! That was so lameee. Why even do the whole quest if their mommies and daddies were going to show up to help them????

So while Percy and Annabeth are battling the remaining few Giants, Leo, Piper, Hazel and Frank go up against Gaia herself. In the old myths four titans held Ouranos down while Kronos chopped his essence up. In the same way, they battle Gaia away from her turf in the air, keeping her distracted enough. All these demigods are needed because she's a primordial dammit!

Jason, my guy, comes in a clutch, chops her to pieces and sends her essence to Tartarus!!

The world is saved, the end!

[deliciousbasementtrash]

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. On your way home from work, you encounter an injured superhero. You have seen his secret identity. Now what will he do about it?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x reader, (maybe a why choose with Dick Grayson as well?? Idk tell me what you guys want)

Warning: Adult language, verbal abuse, parental abuse, severe injuries

Word Count: 1.5k

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it 

Part One: Is that Trash or a Man?

There is calm chaos when working in the emergency room. You get used to the cacophony of beeps and alarms. Of moans, crying, screaming, and arguing. You get used to being on your feet all day and moving from task to task, from patient to patient. You get used to it because there is no other option. People need care and they need it now. You either step the fuck up or switch to a different unit. Or move to a calmer, cleaner, less crime-filled city. Calm wasn’t really my vibe. Maybe externally that’s what I portrayed, but internally my mind craves the chaos of the ER. It craves the chaos of Gotham. And the Gotham ER was an entirely different beast.

I finished nursing school about a year ago. A lot of my peers used it as an out. They went to more stable cities in New Jersey that had better funding and less chance of getting knifed in the staff parking lot. I was one of the only ones that stayed. I definitely was the only one that worked in the hospital. I couldn’t deny the demand for nurses was high, and the paychecks were even higher at Gotham General Hospital. And maybe some small pathetic part of my brain wanted to make the world a better place. I wanted Gotham to be a better place. Every day I worked. I convinced myself that how matter how shitty it got; I was making a difference. Even if it was only a handful of people in the grand scheme of things. 

I could convince myself that I mattered. That everyone mattered. That these people deserve more. They deserve better; they deserve a second, third, fourth, fifth chance. If I stopped trying to convince myself of that I know I would give up entirely. Seeing gunshot wounds, stabbings, overdoses, mutilations, burns, crushings, poisonings, beatings, day after day is a lot like erosion of the soul. Little by little it wears you down. You become jaded and jagged with time. Empathy becomes blame. Hope becomes desolate. Love becomes anger. The only thing you can do is gaslight yourself into thinking you’re making a big enough difference. That you’re helping enough people. After all, the brain can’t tell the difference between truth and irony. You tell yourself so many lies, you can start to believe them, right? 

Gotham City: 16 Years Ago 

“Dad, when is mom coming home?” My small voice asked. I was scared to make Dad yell at me again. I didn’t like it when I made him yell.

“She’s got stage four fucking cancer she is coming out of the hospital in a body bag, y/n.” 

I fought the tears that burned behind my eyes. Dad would get even angrier if he saw them. It was stupid of me to even ask. 

I felt him turn to me. His eyes bored into my skull. Quickly, I looked down at his feet. 

“Have you tried again?” He asked. His tone clipped. I knew he expected a timely answer.

Involuntarily, my fingers ruthlessly picked the skin around my nails. The sting was grounding in a way. 

“No, sir. Well yes, I have tried, but I… I failed,” the last word felt like a hot poker being placed through my throat. 

“Look at me.” Breathing became difficult, but I looked up at my father. He leaned his face close to mine. I could smell Jack wafting off him. “What good are you? What good is having healing powers if you can’t heal your sick mother?”

The simple hangnail became a chunk of missing skin. I lowered my head. Fighting back tears. 

“Sir,” my traitorous voice wobbled as I tried not to cry, “I keep trying but… I don’t think my power is that strong. I can close cuts, fix broken bones, but tumors are… hard.”

My father tilted his head back and laughed. Hard. He grabbed my wrist as quickly as a viper, “If I could put your mother’s cancer in you I would. You’re about as useful as a wet match in a dark cave.” 

I couldn’t help the tears that fell down my cheek. It felt like I was involuntarily waving a white flag.

Gotham City: Present Day

I had to be stealthy with my gift. I couldn’t heal every one of the patients to full health right away. That would lead to suspicion. But if I could help it I could stop the major damage. I would heal internal organs. Replenish blood. Reduce ten fractures to two or one. It all depended on timing and if people were watching me. 

I was walking home from the hospital. I only lived about three blocks away. I got off shift at around 20:49. I didn’t start my next stretch for another three days. And I was milking my walk home. Stopping to smell the roses or whatever. That is normally not a very smart thing to do in Gotham at night, especially as a woman. But part of me didn’t care. 

Earlier, I looked at my phone and frowned when I realized the date. 

Thursday, May 19th. 

My mom died 16 years ago today. Waves of emotion flooded my senses. Anger at myself for not remembering. Sadness that she had been gone more of my life than she had been in it. Restlessness for what my father might do or say. Some years he likes to reach out. Others he doesn’t. But most of all I was feeling reckless. Like I wanted someone to give me a reason. Obviously, I would only hurt someone to defend myself or others. But there was so much anger living in my body, part of me hoped some idiot would try something with me tonight. 

So, I walked home. Slowly. 

Normally, you keep your head down and you keep moving. You don’t look or gawk. You listen out of necessity. I was listening just because I could. It was the normal stuff. Men smoking cigarettes and catcalling. Women were offering their nightly services. Random people either praising or damning superheroes. Drug deals. Graffiti artists. Fights. And of course, people who simply were walking home from work. Gotham had range and was never boring that’s for sure. 

But something picked up on the very edge of my senses. Despite my better logic, I turned toward the very quiet sound. It could have just been rats, but it sounded so familiar. It sounded like a death rattle. The thing you hear just before shit hits the fan and the patient codes. 

Without thinking I ran down the alley toward the sound. At first, it was nothing. Just trash and rats. But then I saw it. He almost blended perfectly in with the shiny black garbage bags. His cape was the same color but reflected the light less. 

“Sir? Sir, are you alright?” I walked hesitantly forward, grabbing my pepper spray just in case.

The man did not answer, he only garbled and coughed. My work brain took over my fear. Instantly I rolled the man over and began assessing him. I suppressed a gasp when I rolled him over and a familiar cowl mask came into view. It was cracked down the middle. His face was bleeding from an unknown location. His breathing was labored and staggered. 

Calmly, I closed my eyes and pressed my hands against his chest. 

Oh yeah. Batman was dying. He had several broken ribs. A pneumothorax. A bruised liver, kidney, and pancreas. His cardiac output was a joke. The man had no perfusion. 

I didn’t think. I didn’t hold back like I do at the hospital. I just healed. And healed. And healed. I healed him down to his bone-on-bone knees, sprained ankle, and fractured wrist. 

God, this guy had a lot of injuries. 

I was close to passing out by the time I was done. I had done too much, ate, and slept too little. My powers were demanding when it came to energy. If I didn’t eat or sleep within 30 minutes I was about to pass out next to bat boy himself.

I gave him one last assessment. After double-checking that he would live and that I didn’t miss anything I finally looked at his face again. 

This time I gasped. Batman was the billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne? I shook my head like I was clearing cobwebs. I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Much like Batman, I didn’t want people to know what I could do. The last time people knew…

Just as I turned and took a few steps I rolled my eyes at my nagging thoughts. 

What if someone sees him before he wakes up?

Reaching into my tote bag I pulled out a black medical mask. I not so gracefully MacGyvered it across his exposed face so that it was covered. And with that, I made my way home.

My cat, Hashbrown, eagerly greeted me at the door. I nearly fell asleep locking it. I bent down to pick her up and gave her a kiss on her perfect little cat head. I ripped my gross work scrubs off, threw them in the wash, and crashed on the couch in my underwear before my brain could process what happened.

I healed Batman. 

I healed… Bruce Wayne?

Part Two, Part Three

[atopvisenyashill]

okay fuck avoiding the dance how do we get ned out of the capital alive.

i think his main obstacle here is actually littlefinger and that’s hard to get around because ned has no real reason to distrust him besides littlefinger being skeezy, and catelyn trusts littlefinger

still, if i’m ned, and i get a letter saying there’s a conspiracy against my bestie and my wife is telling me i have to get involved, i’m contacting the closest thing to a southerner i know aka wyman manderly and going “hey can i have like. some spies. actually can you just come to the capital with me” and i’m telling varys that respectfully he’s fired. if i can’t fire him - why SHOULDNT i be able to but maybe robert is being annoying - i’m having manderly at every council meeting regardless.

it's probably harder to fire renly but i still think i'm bringing someone else i trust - a riverlander maybe, someone more In Tune With The South, like Jason Mallister perhaps - to at least shadow him and see if he's doing his job.

i get why he doesn’t want to tell sansa straight up not to trust the lannisters because what if she gives something away but not telling her anything is clearly a mistake. tbh i think even at the capital is slightly too late, he needs to tell her before they leave winterfell that they can’t be trusted. getting cat to do this is probably helpful, i do imagine she would listen more to her mother than her father about something like marriage and southron politics.

i feel the same about lady, i understand he doesn’t just try to sneak her back north because that would be difficult as fuck but if he just straight up says to robert’s face “if you want me to kill that wolf for you i’m taking my entire family back north and i’m coming back south to be your hand without my kids.” like call that man's bluff right away. i think robert shows in canon that he'll yell and scream at ned but he ultimately won't actually arrest ned for shit and ned should really push his luck here when it comes to lady because if robert can't back him up over a pet, well that says something you know.

but really - just avoid leaving sansa alone with joffrey and you can avoid this? actually wait - call up a mormont to be sansa’s sworn shield. i think alysane is pregnant at this point right, so call up dacey (or lyra? is lyra a warrior too?) and be like "STICK TO SANSA LIKE WESTEROS VERSION OF GLUE." handing sansa off is maybe not the best move parenting wise but it's one i think ned would realisticaly take - give her a peer or two that understand the danger and can explain it to her in a way she understands easier. but also - have CATELYN explain to sansa literally anything.

also, get her the harp tutor she wants so she has something to focus on besides joffrey.

send someone you trust, like jory or even the blackfish (someone stannis would respect) to stannis to be like "why did you cut and run you fuck???? get your ass back here i need some goddamn help." if he refuses, pull rank because why is this man disappearing so suspiciously and not telling anyone???

the MOMENT there's a problem - something goes wrong on the trident, something is even vaguely fishy at the capital - tell robb and cat to call the banners in the north and riverlands. i'm dead ass here. maybe it's not subtle - can you do this subtlely? if you can, do it that way - but i just think it's better to not fuck around here when all you have is a letter from lysa saying "something's fucky."

DON'T TELL CERSEI YOU KNOW ABOUT THE INCEST BEFORE YOU GRAB HOLD OF THE CAPITAL. I would honestly grab her kids, force them onto a boat, and tell her "get on the boat right now or robert will kill you all and i won't be able to stop him." don't give her a choice, don't give her a chance to regroup.

[coldilikeit]

Little adventures 1

DC x Hilda

Male reader

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Nightwing hollered up the motorcycle that was about to fall off a bridge, the sturdy rope pulling it in a rushed pulley system

Then he saw it, a beam of light onto the sky, the clouds forming circles upon it, thunder and lightning crackling onto the sky

Fuck the motorcycle

He rushed to the scene, to find, his little brother (Name) with some friends

"What are you guys doing here?" He asked politely, trying not to startle them, "Oh Nightwing! Guys he's one of the vigilantes who protects the city" you smiled introducing him to your friends

"oohh, I wish my city had vigilantes, the spirits know we need it" the girl with blue hair laughed

"Are you children not from here?" Nightwing asked which the three kids Shaked their heads to say no "Were visiting (Name)" says the little boy

"It's so late at night... Do you guys know how to get home?" He asked, then he looked at (Name), his little brother playing on his friends in a tide pool, he wouldn't have minded it, but it's so late at night...

(Name) gets up and brushes off the seaweed in his head "Oh well be going home now, we just had to get rid of the tide mice Hilda gave me"

What?

"Did you children happen to see a beam of light?" He asked

"uhh no." (Name) Replied skittishly, then he whispered something to his three friends, a mumble he couldn't hear

"Supernatural stuff aren't really embraced here" (Name) whispered

"We'll be uhh... Going home now, I'll just call my mum" The blue hair girl says

And after a few minutes of waiting a car pulls up and a woman with brown hair looks at the safe children with relief "Oh (Name) thank goodness you're safe... Now Hilda, stop giving out the mice!" She scolded the blue haired girl

"It's okay Miss Johanna, she just wanted to help me" Smiled (Name), Nightwing has no clue on how mice could help someone but he doesn't pry, the children, including (Name) is getting in the car

"Can I trust you to keep you and the children safe back to their homes?" Asked Nightwing

"Yes you can, I'll protect them" she playfully answered and looked back at the children lovingly

Seems trustworthy enough.

And the car takes off

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"(Name) isn't built for Gotham" Dick says to the family at the dining table

Bruce raises a brow "Why do you think that?" Dick describes the kids (Name) made friends with, they weren't the snobby mini socialites at (Name)'s school, or not the rough kids at the lower parts of Gotham

Then (Name) entered the dining area, covered in dirt, sand and a little soaked, "Alfred.. can I have a towel?" He asked politely "I'm going to wash up, the sand is a bit itchy"

"wow... You're dirty, anything interesting happen today?" Snarked Damian, you lit up a bit, completely missing his insult "Yeah! I went out with my friends and I met Nightwing!"

"tch, Robin is cooler" Damian replied

"(Name), do you have any friends here in the city?" Jason suddenly asked, (Name) looked surprised that he was speaking to him but answered nonetheless "The kids here are bit mean... And bullies, so umm no, but I've made three friends, they're from another city, they're really nice"

"But you can't hangout with them often if they're far away?" Tim laments

You can't mention the Nisse

You can't mention the Nisse

You can't mention the Nisse

"I take the train there... Or They come here with their parents" you say

Bruce out down his water "If you want to see them, take one of the cars, I'll hire you a driver" he says

"umm okay... Thank you father"

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(Name) has no clue they're the bats, and the bats have no clue their son/little brother is going on magical adventures

And as for the new driver...

[alittlesongbirdchirps]

MY WORLD AU

Bruce Wayne isn't human he never was.

His body was a false form created to do his task, his mission, to gather information on Earth.

And that information would help his kind decide whether or not to destroy the entire planet and everything on it.

And his kind one of them could do it with a mere hand completely crush it in their grasp.

But no they won't judge based on an outside point of view.

So that's why Bruce is sent there, given a human form, he's not allowed to do anything unless it is human-like not even allowed to use his powers, not allowed to kill any humans.

Because It will muddy the water, and mess up the result.

Only after he's done observing, gathering all the data possible for judgment may he return to his true form.

His body's parents, no the character he plays to observe, Bruce Wayne's parents are murdered.

He uses all the information he gathered so far in his short time on earth from the television show he witnessed and vows vengeance on all criminals.

He begins to think maybe that's not a normal human reaction, that's until he takes in Dick.

Not out of care but out of the fact, that this is an actual human that also witnessed his parents die, so it's more out of the purpose he wants to see if he performed his so-called grief correctly, and humanely.

And apparently, he did since Dick acted similar to how he did all those years ago.

But when Jason came into his life it was the same at that start only taking him in to gather more information in particular he wanted to see if he could change human behavior if he took him in.

So he gave him more attention than he ever did Dick but at some point with Jason, or maybe it was even with Dick but he began to care though he wouldn't admit it not until Jason died.

Rage, an emotion he never felt before, and true grief, he was gonna kill the Joker fuck this stupid study.

And he will do it while in this human form, so it's slow and painful but Superman stops him, Bruce nearly swings at him but manages to stop himself managing to get his bearing back and now it was solely about this mission again.

No longer holding back against criminals anymore, he won't kill them but if they died from the injuries it wasn't his fault it was theirs.

Eventually, Tim Drake comes into his life almost like a whirlwind, demanding to be robin he refuses mainly because he doesn't need any more data on human younglings, but Tim threatens to compromise his mission as Batman, he doesn't know what Bruce truly is not yet.

Tim figures something out at some point, that Bruce isn't human it wasn't like Bruce was trying to hide it anymore.

Tim begins to ask him many questions with the underlying unspoken words, I know you're not human but I won't bring it up.

Oddly Bruce finds himself intrigued by this human this youngling is smart, especially by human standards, and he begins to study him he's different than the others, smarter, similar to the whole Bruce character He temporarily is until he finishes his mission.

Much later on;

When Bruce is 'killed.' by Darkside, he's simply beamed back to relay his data, and he lies he knows what his kind will do, destroy his earth, it is his earth, destroy his family that he built.

His kind doesn't lie, it's beneath them, so they believe him, for now, he makes a few requests for extra measures, like getting the earth to be put in his true name before returning.

Of course, Tim believed he was alive he was the only one who truly knew Bruce wasn't human but he didn't know what.

But something happens whether the Joker again or an invasion because his kind realizes his bitch ass lied.

So he protects them, he protects his earth, his true form his true size briefly leaking out, and he easily defeats them.

The league of course asks him what happened and what was that, and he simply lies that he was briefly possessed by some cosmic entity. Obviously, the bats call bullshit but don't call him out until they return to the cave demanding answers. LOL

(Little drabble idea.)

NOT EDITED LATE NIGHT, CONSIDERED THIS TIRED BULLSHIT SCRIBBLES OF WRITING.