#pov outsiders

[trekkele]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Original Characters Additional Tags: POV Outsider, Vampires, Galas, rich people (derogatory) Summary:

There was something deeply wrong with Bruce Wayne.

This wasn’t exactly news, of course. Opening any one of the local Gotham tabloids would give you plenty of evidence to back his claims up, but Tyler liked to think his profession gave him an edge, an added insight into the strangeness that was Gotham’s ‘beloved billionaire’.

Or: Tyler came to Gotham for one reason and one reason only.

[something-rotten]

An undead Necromancer decides to try her hand at the Defence Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts, School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Jinx is not happy, but not the most creative, either.

Or: How many times does a DADA professor have to die, before they give up and let the Jinx win? (The answer is: Too many. The Jinx never stood a chance)

[frownyalfred]

thinking about the expert masseuse Alfred hired for the family that is paid a small fortune annually to provide massage services and ignore so, so many things. No questions, no remarks, just quality service and an ironclad NDA that, if broken, would probably topple said masseuse’s entire family line.

Things Alfred is paying them to ignore, in no specific order:

Bruce’s spinal hardware courtesy of Bane :)

weird amounts of muscle on everyone, even the kids (despite them allegedly not working physical jobs)

scars

FRESH scars

the fact that every joint in Bruce’s body clicks when moved/manipulated at the tender age of 42

Olympic athlete level physiques

rotator cuff injuries across the whole family

scars that are definitely from bullets and/or acid splashes

old signs of what looks like torture (Bruce)

Dick’s entire left arm is basically screws and plates (he “fell really bad” once)

every single family member takes deep tissue massage with max pressure with 0 complaints

calluses

no really, the weirdest fucking calluses

[meltedmush]

.

.

I so badly wish there was more of Shen Jiu,,, 😭

[sundropcass]

99% of what I read is angst but you know what my secret favorite fanfiction category is? Outsider POV. I love a good fic where we’re in the perspective of characters who have no idea what the fuck is going on and are stuck watching our MCs be absolutely ridiculous. I love every version of this trope. It could be mostly text based. It could be mostly social media based. As long as it checks the boxes? I’m all in. You don’t understand. I think the first one of these I read was with Sam and Dean Winchester as kids in school from the perspective of a guidance counselor. I have been ruined. I have read every fic I could find with the premise of SkyGem’s Retirement AU (Yuri On Ice). I read White Collar DC crossover fanfiction despite not knowing or caring about White Collar because I treat it like outsider POV fanfictions with a fun identity reveal element. My favorite My Hero Academia fanfiction of all time is entirely made up of social media bit and bobs (tumblr posts, twitter posts, text message chains, etc). I am currently reading a Carmen Sandiego fic like this and it is such a crack fic. It is so unserious. I can’t put it down. I am so hooked.

[deadliestpieceontheboard]

"Jean noticed how Andrew and Neil moved like they were caught in each other’s gravity, in each other’s space more than they were out of it, cigarette smoke and matching armbands and lingering looks when one fell out of orbit for too long."

Nora Sakavic, via twitter

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

Talk (Silence)

~

Danny has gotten used to not having to watch what he said as the years went by.

In Amity everyone basically knew he was Phantom and just treated it as normal, and he had already told his parents what had happened,

They did a total 180 on their opinions, now chasing after ghosts to question them about everything they could squeeze out of them.

They were very proud of Danny too, often helping him with their technology.

Having said that he got used to not watching what he said in Amity, everyone knew so why bother right?

Unfortunately he was not in Amity

He was in Gotham visiting Jazz, who had moved for University.

They were currently in a cafe catching up, talking as their used to.

Not realizing that their conversation without context sounded very worrying.

~

Jazz: " So how are mod and dad?"

Danny: "Oh you know the usual, they're making new weapons, hopefully this time they wont target me, getting shot sucks, but I prefer it over getting electrocuted "

Jazz: " Good luck!"

(TOPC)The other people in the cafe: What the fuck

~

Danny: " Vlad keeps putting cameras in my room, so I went and confronted him about it again, I don't care that he's the mayor! "

Jazz: " He really needs some therapy"

Danny: " He's a fruitloop, he's beyond help"

TOPC: *concerned side eye*

~

Jazz: "You know I was a bit more worried about the criminals here, but honestly weak, I miss actual competent villains"

Danny: "I told you!"

TOPC not sure if they should be offended or wary of where they live

~

Jazz: " You know I kinda miss the food back home"

Danny: "What that it would come back to life and fight you to the death?"

Jazz: " I mean that too, but I was talking about the taste"

Danny: " Oh yes the chemically contaminated food really has some extra flavor compared to this" *gestures at his plate*

~

Danny: " I went to the park to play with Cujo and got kidnapped and they almost cut me in half"

Danny/Jazz: "Typical Friday!"

TOPC recording on their phones to make sure they're not hallucinating, someone is live tweeting.

~

Just an Idea

[satoshy12]

Amity Parker Don't understand other Hero cities.

And started a massive pilgrimage to Amity Park.

It all started when a few people from Amity Park went on a field trip to other hero cities and got very confused pretty fast. - What do you mean people die here so often in hero fights? - What do you mean by buildings getting destroyed and not fixed? (blob Ghost do that all the time, they seem to love it!) Are your hero not doing their job!!!?

At first, the people of Gotham, Metropolis, Coast City, Bludhaven, or Dakoto City were pissed, but after the people of Amity Park just said they should stay a few weeks in their city, they would notice it. After one week in the new city,  most people moved out of their city to Amity Park. While this city had once a week has a world-ending threat, that threat seems to just have fun with the child hero in a fight. And those people helped them. The Victims of Scarecrow actually got help from the Master of Fear Fright Knight, who fixed their minds.

Number 1 rule in Amity Park - Don't feed the tiny cryptid Fenton after 10 p.m.; the last time we had winter in the summer was because of that. - Yes, they are fangs, and they are real. Don't try to let yourself be bitten. When he slept, the last one almost lost their hand. + The other Hero in their cities didn't take long to notice it, that they have significantly fewer people living in their cities. Like most of their cities, they lost 30–50% of their civilians! And no one seems to want to tell them where they are, as more civilians are leaving!

[hairmetal666]

Wayne's used to worrying about Eddie. He should be; he's been doing it since the kid was twelve. First it was Eddie's silence, his permanent frown, the way the bones stood out too prominent on his small wrists. Then it was the kids at school, taunting him and calling him names, the fights and calls from the principal's office. Next came the late nights, the drinking, the dealing, failing his senior year twice. But all of those times, every single one, Wayne had known what to do. Maybe it wasn't perfect, maybe it took a little time, but he'd always figured out exactly what his boy needed.

And now--now Wayne doesn't know if he can help; knows it's not in his power to fix it. 

So, he sits for the second week in a row, watching his nephew--his whole heart--sitting in front of the window, looking out at the forest, nursing the same cup of coffee that he poured six hours ago, and wonders how in the world he can help.

They're cleaning up from dinner, Eddie quiet at his side, when he says, "Gonna need some help with the mugs tomorrow."

After moving to Oregon once Eddie graduated and he retired, he found an affinity for pottery. Never woulda thought it, but he loves it and tourists love his booth at the farmers market.

He can't think of a better way to get his nephew out of the house, but wonders if he doesn't know his boy as well as he thinks after a decade in Los Angeles, that Eddie'll refuse. He just nods, though, goes back to drying the plate in his hands.

And next morning, right at 6:45, Eddie is in the living room in black jeans that are so worn they're nearly grey in places, and the threadbare Metallica tee Wayne thrifted for him nearly a decade back. It's a win. Small, yes--Eddie doesn't even complain once about the country-western station Wayne plays in the truck--but still a step forward.

Wayne wastes no time parking and handing Eddie a box of carefully packed merchandise. He leads the way, trusts that Eddie is right on his heels until he hears Jim Hopper's voice say, "You better keep an eye on those mugs, son. Your uncle will tan your hide."

He turns to see Hopper balancing one end of Eddie's box, Eddie's cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry, I--uh, I've got it now." Hopper lets go and for the briefest instant Eddie's eyes dart to the side and the pink in his cheeks grows deeper.

Wayne tracks the path Eddie's eyes took and finds--he swallows back a chuckle--Steve Harrington just setting one of his Adirondack chairs into place, his t-shirt lifted to show of a stretch of stomach.

Well. Eddie did always like the pretty ones.

They setup the booth in companionable silence, and Hopper pops back over for a proper introduction. Before he departs again, he says to Eddie, "I got some kids who really love that dnd game and your show. They're going to be crazy to meet you. That okay?"

And Eddie, he's a good boy, he smiles and nods but as soon as Hopper is out of earshot, Wayne's saying, "Hop's kids and their friends are big fans and I know you're heartsore about the cancellation, but you better be polite."

Eddie glares. "What do you think, old man, that I'll be mean to children?"

"Well, with how you've been moping around the cabin these last few weeks, hard to know."

He scoffs. "Yeah, well. Netflix putting your hit show on indefinite hiatus without warning or explanation will do that to a guy."

Wayne knows there's nothing he can say to soften this hurt, so he gives Eddie's shoulder a tight squeeze. "I'm proud of you no matter what, son."

His nephew nods, eyes down, but Wayne doesn't miss the small, pleased, lift at the corner of his lips.

The morning passes smoothly and Wayne pretends he doesn't notice every time he finds Eddie's gaze straying to Steve's booth.

The kids come by around noon, Dustin Henderson breaking away from the pack to shriek, "You're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie smiles, stands. "That I am, young adventurer." He bows low, exaggerated and the kids giggle. "Pray tell, what are your names?"

The chatter is fast and easy, Eddie the happiest he's been in weeks, and Wayne relaxes back in his chair, lets out a long, slow breath of relief at the breaking storm. He stretches back in his chair, eyes catching on Steve Harrington across the way. Steve who is watching Eddie and the kids with an expression Wayne can only think of as fond.

Wayne isn't one to play matchmaker, but--he thinks, just maybe, just this once he could nudge.

It happens late in the afternoon, when business has well-slowed, Eddie asking, "Um--that guy over there, who is--what's his deal?"

Wayne thinks he manages to keep all traces of amusement from his face and voice as he answers, "Who? Ohh, Steve Harrington. He's the guidance counselor down at the middle school. Does a bit of carpentry in his free time. Best friends with the woman who owns that little bookstore."

He watches as Eddie processes, as his eyes widen, probably in remembrance of the pride flags and Protect Trans Kids shirts, how the woman in question wore a lesbian flag pin on her apron. "Guidance counselor?" He says eventually. "Kind of a drag."

"You would think, but the kids love him. The ones you met earlier today? He babysat them for years; imprinted on him, Jim and I say."

"Hmm," is the only response he gets, Eddie's attention back on the man in question.

---

The day after the market, Wayne walks into the living room to find Eddie's laptop tucked into the cushions of the window seat. He hasn't seen the thing since Eddie came home, never used to see him without it, and this--well.

He says, "need to run into town for a few things. You up for a trip? You might could stop at that bookstore."

Eddie nods, takes a sip of his coffee--he's actually drinking it-- says, "Yeah. Yeah, I think that'd be cool."

The store isn't busy when they arrive, and Wayne drifts towards the magazines to leave Eddie to his own devices.

Wayne loses himself to quiet browsing, wanting to give Eddie space, to maybe chat with Robin Buckley, strike up the beginnings of a friendship. Enough time passes, though, that Wayne is wondering where his boisterous, noticeable nephew could've disappeared to so silently.

He winds around a shelf and sees Eddie and Steve Harrington in deep conversation. He can't hear it, not really, but they're standing close, with pink in their cheeks. As he watches, Steve says something that makes Eddie laugh and pull a few strands of hair over his mouth.

They're almost inseparable after that. Eddie, Steve, Robin, and all those kids. They play dnd, have movie nights, spend hours at the diner. And Eddie, he's writing, sketching, gets down Wayne's acoustic guitar and plays around for a while.

When he asks how things are with "that Harrington boy," Eddie flushes red and says, "none of your business, old man" before giving Wayne a quick, affectionate squeeze. 

---

Two and a half months after Eddie came to stay, Wayne's walking back from the river, the sky the light navy of new dusk. His fishing rod is draped over one shoulder, tackle box held easily in his fist, the walk home pleasant, a perfect end to a good day.

The light from the front porch seeps through the trees, and he's thinking about a cold beer, a warm pizza, if Eddie's found his way home yet, when figures standing on the porch stop him in his tracks.

It takes a second, longer, for his eyes to adjust from the dark of the woods, and the glow of the bulb, but then he sees--

Eddie and Steve locked in a fierce embrace, desperate and very much private.

He turns right back towards the river, doesn't mind giving the boys some time.

He waits a good half hour, just enjoying the forest, before heading back. Steve's car is gone, the porch vacant, but the cabin is lit up, bright and warm and inviting.

Wayne steps inside, and his nephew is there, laptop open, but he isn't working, just smiling to himself, chin resting on his fist.

"Okay?" Wayne asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Eddie's smile doesn't fall from his face.

He doesn't want to interfere, ask too much, not when he's sure things are still young. Instead, he asks, "What'd you say to ordering a pizza?"

And Eddie, heedless of Wayne's question, says,"you know. I've been thinking about maybe staying here for a little longer."

And Wayne, his smile grows, and he claps a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "You're welcome here for as long as you want. Already consider it your home anyway."

[morganbritton132]

Someone posts on their Twitter account, “I walked pass this restaurant on my lunch break and there was this gay couple on the patio, oohing and awing into a phone about seeing their little girl. When I walked past them, they were FaceTiming a cat.”

Jonathan replies to this tweet with a picture of Steve and Eddie at a restaurant and he asks, “Was it these idiots or is someone else in the same layer of hell as me?”

They reply, “Yeah, that was them.”

[bloodydeanwinchester]

DESTIEL IN EVERY EPISODE → 5x04 the end

dean immediately clocking 2014!dean's jealousy like "what could this mean???"

[frownyalfred]

the truth is, between the capes, broad shoulders, and armor, the Trinity really do look the most regal and dangerous out of almost all of the Justice League members. sure, there are others who look intimidating or powerful, but the three of them? they look royal.

[a-most-beloved-fool]

I do think my favorite on-station Garashir dynamic is where Garak is just. painfully pathetic about Bashir. It's very funny to me.

Various Bajorans on the station will watch Bashir's and Garak's little lunches, and they'll be like, "oh no. the poor naive doctor is Going to be taken advantage of". And then they look a little closer and they see that actually Garak is fully whipped for that twink.

Like, sure, he's a former spy. He could kill you. But he's a little busy trying desperately to seduce Bashir without letting on that he's sad and also pathetic. He's making skimpy clothing in his shop that is Very Clearly Bashir-sized. He's arguing shamelessly. He put his hands on Bashir's shoulders during their very first meeting, for Prophet's sake!

Bashir is, of course, oblivious to this and, to their embarrassment, the watching Bajorans actually find themselves feeling bad for Garak. Is he morally dubious? Certainly! Was he a spy in the Obsidian Order? That's the rumor! Has he killed in cold blood? They'd stake their bets on it! But when a guy is pining that pathetically over the shiniest most naive Starfleet twink imaginable...

Well.

It's a little hard to stay afraid of him.

They figure that as long as they don't do anything to harm Bashir or Cardassia, they probably don't have anything to worry about.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two (You are Here) / Part Three 

A03

Hopper had undersold Harrington's condition. 

Wayne hadn't expected anything pretty, but the face that turned to them as they walked through the door almost had him freezing in place. 

Black eye, bruised chin, split lip. 

More and more bruises, some faded and some very new, trailing down the kids neck. 

 The rest was hidden by his preppy little polo shirt, but Wayne didn't doubt that there were more.

Harrington tried to stand when they entered the room and the way he moved--entirely unbalanced, clearly in a lot of pain--made Wayne think the only thing the kid really needed was a hospital. 

Because Steve Harrington hadn't just been beaten. 

He'd been tortured--and very recently strangled. 

(Abruptly, Wayne realized that Hopper had implied the boy had been in the mall fire--just as much as he implied the mall fire was anything but. 

He also hadn't stated how Harrington had escaped the Suites trying to break into his house.) 

"Sit down." Hopper commanded, and Wayne expected Harrington to do anything but listen. 

Say something cocky, or act the part of a demanding little shit maybe, despite the condition he was in.

Instead the kid just sighed in relief and dropped like a stone, right back into the chair. 

Hopper came around his desk, talking all the while. "Steve, this is Wayne. Wayne, Steve."

"Hello Sir." Steve croaked politely. His voice was wrecked, no doubt from the necklace of finger shaped bruises around his neck.

"You're going to stay with him for a while, and you're gonna pay him for the privilege." Hopper informed him, as he began digging around his desk. "Money, chores, whatever Wayne wants." 

Wayne held his gaze as Steve turned to appraise him. 

Would Harrington pitch a fit? 

Would he look at Wayne's work clothes, streaked with dirt and sweat, with the name of the warehouse embroidered in the corner and crinkle up his nose, just like his daddy did? 

Hopper didn't lie, but a part of Wayne wanted to see just how different this Harrington was. If the respectful demeanor was an act done for Hopper. 

Or perhaps, Hopper had mentioned Steve's father for a reason, instead of his mother. Did he adopt her ice-like approach to life? 

Micro managing and long-held grudges were Stella Harrington’s game, and she excelled at it. 

Steve however, did nothing of the sort, instead settling with the situation in a way that reminded Wayne far too strongly of the men and women who'd come home from war.

"Okay." The kid said simply, after a long moment of consideration. He turned back to Hopper. "But we need to tell the rest of the Par--" 

Here he cut a look back to Wayne, correcting himself. "the kids. I don't want them showing up at my house trying to find me and freaking out." 

"They wouldn't--" Jim paused, fingers freezing from the rummaging they'd been doing. "they absolutely would, goddammit." He muttered darkly.  

"I'll tell the kids. The only thing I want you doing right now is laying low. I need to get a hold of Owens, but it's gonna take time to do that, and more time to fix this, so as of right now, Harrington? You're on vacation." He pointed sternly, as if Steve might argue.

The kid looked too tired and messed up to bother trying. 

"I mean it. You're out of the country, where is anybody's guess. No one's seen you and no one better be seeing you, got it?" His voice held firm, and Wayne had to blink because the tone here wasn't one of a police chief warning a teenager--but of a father talking to his son.

He knew, because his own voice did that now. Took on a worried tone that masqueraded as something more like annoyance and seriousness. 

"Yes, Sir." Harrington said, remaining weirdly compliant. "Consider me gone." 

A hand came up to briefly press above one eye, and Wayne wondered if the kid had been looked over, or if they had just crammed him into Hopper's office without offering so much as a tissue box. 

How many painkillers did they have back at the house? Wayne usually kept a good bottle around, but Steve was going to need more than that…

He found himself once again cataloging Steve's wounds, this time comparing them to the medicine cabinet he had at home. 

"I expect you to be a damn good house guest, you hear me?" Hopper continued, trying to cut a menacing figure. He finally found what he was looking for; pulling out a large, padded envelope. 

He handed it over to Harrington, who took it without looking, shoving it into the duffle bag he'd had sitting at his feet. 

There was a smudge of red on the handle of said bag, that matched perfectly up to a shittily done wrap on Steve's right hand. 

Wayne mentally added 'buy more bandages' to his list. 

Steve nodded at Hopper again. "Yes, Sir."

Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Quite that, you know I hate that." 

The briefest glimmer of mischief crossed Harrington's face. "Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir."

'Ahh.' Wayne thought. 'So there's a teenager in there after all.'

Jim rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office."

"Thanks Hop." Harrington said, finally dropping that odd obedience, a hint of a smile on his battered face. 

He stood, and Wayne had to stop himself from offering an arm out as Steve reached for his bag and limped towards him. 

He paused right before he left Hopper's office, hand on the doorframe.

 "You'll check up on Robin too, right?"  He asked, and for the first time his tone took on something more alive--and filled with worry. "And Dustin? Erica?" 

"Dustin and his mom are finally taking me up on my suggestion to see their family in Florida for a while, and the Sinclairs are taking a sabbatical from Hawkins. I'm working on the Buckley's." Hopper drummed his fingers on the desk. "So far, no one else besides you and El have been targeted, and we're going to keep it that way."

Steve let out a breath, and while Wayne could tell the worry hadn't left him, he could almost physically see Steve force himself to put it away.

Another act that was far beyond the kid's years. 

A different officer popped up as they walked down the hall towards the exit, waving his hand madly. "Harrington! Chief says you forgot this!" He barked.

(Or tried to anyway. Callahan wasn’t the most aggressive of officers and frankly, never would be.)

A slim sports bag was held in his hands, and Steve nearly tripped over his own feet when he tried to turn and claim it.

"I'll get it." Wayne said, knowing his tone sounded gruff.

No use for it. He could either sound gruff or sound sad, and Wayne knew better than to start off the relationship with yet another hurt young man by acting sad.

Pity wasn't gonna win him any favors here. 

He took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder, uncaring of the wince on Harrington's face until something sharp poked at his shoulder. 

Several somethings, in fact. 

"What the hell do you got in this thing?" He asked once they hit the parking lot, voice low as he escorted Steve to his truck. 

"Just a baseball bat, sir." Steve said, in the exact same tone Eddie used every time he thought he was bein’ slick. 

Considering the thing in the bag could have passed for a baseball bat if not for the sharp pokey bits, it wasn’t a bad attempt. Steve just hadn’t accounted for the fact that Wayne lived with Eddie. 

An unfair advantage, really. 

‘Least there can’t be any baby racoons in the damn bag.’ Wayne thought idly. 

Went on to gently put the bat in the backseat, watching as the kid struggled to lift himself into the truck.

"You can drop that, I take too being called Sir about as well as Hop does." He said, keeping his tone nice and calm, hoping to ease into calling Steve out on his lie. 

Fussed with a few dials on the stereo, giving Steve an excuse to take his time before starting the engine and taking the long way home.

Wayne wanted to talk a little-- without the chance of Ed’s interrupting. 

"Son,” He started off. “I was born in the morning, but not this morning. I'm hoping to make the next few weeks as easy as I can for both of us, and I can't do that if you're starting off with a lie." 

Steve blinked, turning to face him in a matter that was too fast for his injuries. He didn't bother hiding the hurt it caused him, but his voice stayed even as he spoke.

 "What do you mean Si--Wayne." 

"Nice catch.”  Wayne said. “We’ll get you there yet.” 

It was a trick he'd learned with Eddie--little tidbits of praise went a long way when it came to gaining trust.

Especially with kids who hadn't ever been given much. 

Harrington seemed smart to it, or perhaps was just hesitant to speak in general because he remained quiet, not offering up any info. No further lies, but nothing towards the truth, neither. 

Which was fine. Wayne didn’t think a little pushing would hurt.

"That bat of yours was digging into my shoulder like a bee swarm." Wayne continued, when it became clear Steve wasn't talking. "I'm more a fan of football than baseball, but last I checked they hadn't changed the design of a bat." 

"What teams?" Steve asked, perking up a touch. "Of football. Which ones are yours?"

Wayne could ignore it of course, or demand Steve give him an answer to the question he asked. 

He did neither. "I’m liking the Colts since they got moved here. You?" 

"Green Bay Packers, though I like the Colts too--that trade in 84’ was crazy." Steve said. After a second he proved that answering instead of pushing was the right move because he added; "What did Hopper tell you? About…" He trailed off, making a gesture Wayne didn't bother trying to interpret. 

"He said some things. I've guessed a few others." Wayne admitted. Cut a little look out of the corner of his eye as he came to a stop sign. "I know the feds are real interested in you after Starcourt." 

Steve took that in, hands tightening on the handle. 

"It really is a baseball bat." He said, a little fast and with the tiniest hint of that challenge Wayne had been looking for. "It just also has nails hammered into one end." 

Wayne took that in with one nice, slow blink. 

"A bat with nails in it." He said, and it made a hell of a lot of sense compared to the sensation he'd felt carrying the case. "You use it against anyone?" 

"Some of the feds." Steve admitted, and even with his eyes on the road Wayne could tell he was being stared at.

Judged.

Not in the way one expected a rich kid to judge, but in the way Eddie had, those first few months he'd lived here. The times when  he'd push, just a little, to see what Wayne's reaction would be. 

Eddie hadn't done it in a damn long time, but Wayne recognized the behavior nonetheless. 

"Anybody else?" He asked. 

"Nobody human." Steve replied. 

"Alright." Wayne said, and made a mental note to drop all questions related to that. 

He didn't need to know, definitely didn't want to know, and had a feeling if he did know he'd find himself being watched by the same spooks after Steve.

"I've got a few deck boxes that lock on my porch. Think you'd be agreeable to leaving the bat in one?" 

Steve paused, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his duffel bag. "If you gave me a key so I could get it in an emergency,  I'd be happy to." 

He tried to sound calm, even a little charming in that sort of upper-class businessman sort of way, but the fear bled through. 

The kid wasn't happy separating from the bat, and given it sounded like it might have saved his life recently, Wayne understood the hesitation. 

With an internal apology to Eddie, he promptly threw his nephew under the proverbial bus.  "I've got my nephew at home and he'd be far too interested in it, is all. Blades and weapons and such tend to attract him, and I don't need to be rushing anyone to the ER." 

All of which were very true facts (one Wayne learned the time he'd allowed Eddie to bring a sword  home, only for him to nearly cut his own nose off winging the thing around) but he figured it might make Steve more amenable to separating from it. 

Sure enough, some of the tenseness bled out of Steve's shoulders. "Yeah that's fair." 

The truck hit a few potholes as they finally turned into the trailer park, and the kid hissed, a quiet sound. 

Judging by the uncomfortable wince, and hands clenched into his jeans something painwise was giving him trouble. 

"When was the last time you took a pain pill?" Wayne asked, doing his best to weave around the other holes that dotted the gravel roads.

Steve blinked. "Uh…" 

"You take any today son?" 

Steve his head. 

"Didn't have time to grab it." He said, offering a sad look to his pack. 

Course he hadn't. 

"Let's get you inside then and get you some." Wayne said with a sigh. Thankfully Eddie's van wasn't here--Wayne was fairly certain he had band practice today but knowing him it could be a million other things.

Just meant he had to acclimate Steve as fast as he could, to try and get the poor guy settled before Ed’s came in. 

He just hoped life and lady luck would work with him, for once. 

[backpackingspace]

Okay but have we thought about how scary odysseus interacting with the gods /his knowledge about such things it must have been for his crew?

Its well known that odysseus is Athenas favorite, even before the Trojan war. But what does that look like from the outside? Are their conversations in some other plain? Does odysseus sometimes just glaze over and you just have to trust its a god speaking to him and not aome other fit? Out in the open? During the war odysseus was frequently doing really bizarre things on Athena's say so. Bit you also know your captain is a freak and lier so which is it this time? The gods will or odysseus just tucking with you? There's a little wariness there. But it's well known. And been like this forever.

But then you start encountering more monsters. More gods. They all talk to your captain. Your captain stops sleeping. Your go between for you and the captain starts committing crimes against the captain, starts bad mouthing him. More of your friends have died then in ten years of war. And every other day there's a new god talking to your captain. What mortal man has the interest of this many gods? What mortal man can get up in the gods faces to yell at them. What mortal man has the powers to overcome the witches they encounter the power to over turn gods spells? What mortal man's tongue is so gilded he convinces these powers to help them? And doubt comes creeping in.

[weaponizedducks]

imagine what the ealdor villagers must have thought of merlin. when he lived there they thought he was a bit odd, probably accident prone, on the outside, bit of a funny guy. he had exactly one friend. all of a sudden he leaves to go to fucking camelot of all places. why? stfu we don't need a why. they think nothing of it and forget about him.

IMAGINE THEIR REACTION WHEN HE RANDOMLY SHOWS UP WITH THE FUCKING PRINCE OF CAMELOT, THEIR ENEMY, FOLLOWING HIM LIKE A LOST PUPPY. I WOULD BE SHOCKED OUT OF MY FUCKING SKIN IF A LITTLE WEIRDO REAPPEARED HAVING BAGGED A PRINCE. NO WONDER WILL WAS SUSPICIOUS. WHY IS AN ENEMY PRINCE HERE. WHY IS HE HARDCORE FLIRTING WITH MY BESTIE. WHY IS HE SO WHIPPED.