#should i do a part two?

[asolareclipses]

“Isn’t she a beaut?”

“A what?”

“Gods Nico, you never know what i’m talking about.” Leo sighed, turning his attention away from the chariot he was just boasting about.

“Maybe because you never make any sense,” Nico rolled his eyes anticipating the next comment about to leave Leo’s mouth.

“Or…you’re just an old abuelo,” Leo failed to hold back his smirk.

Nico glared at him, he didn’t speak spanish but he’d heard that word enough to know what it meant. “Call me that one more time fire boy and you’ll wish you died the first time.”

“Holy smokes! Someone’s feisty today,” Leo raised his hands signifying a truce. “Anyways, moving back to the important things, just look at this masterpiece!” Leo gestured back to his creation.

As Nico’s eyes move to scan over the chariot, he had to try not to be visibly impressed. It was incredible. Each wheel had hundreds of gears all lined with celestial bronze and steel. The sides and rims danced with various contraptions, every piece was delicately crafted with the upmost detail. It looked as if it was built to withstand whatever may come in its way.

“You built this in a week?” Nico asked, hoping his awe wasn’t evident in his tone.

“Yeah,” Leo shrugged. “Perfect for the race don’t you think?”

Yeah? Nico almost sang his inner praises to Leo at that moment. But he knew if he were to boast Leo’s ego like that, he wouldn’t see the end of it for days.

“It’s not bad..” Nico spoke carefully.

Leo smirked, “Finally glad you decided to be on my team?”

“I didn’t decide anything,” Nico said. “You begged me for weeks and weeks on end until I said yes, just so you would leave me alone.”

“Hm, funny. I don’t remember that happening.”

“Leo-“

“Anyways- You said you had the horses taken care of?” Leo masterfully changed the subject.

Nico nodded with a sigh.

Leo stared at him, before looking around as if he were expecting something. “Well…where are they?”

“Right, you might want to step back.” Nico suggested.

“Step back why would I-“ Leo was cut off by the ground beginning to rumble, kicking up dust and small rocks. “Right that’s why,” he hurriedly stepped backwards.

The grass shivered and after a moment of rumbling, a bone popped out from the ground. It was then followed by another and another. Soon several bones came together forming two skeletal horses. They moved similar to regular horses, if regular horses had no skin or organs.

Nico stepped back, admiring his work. In the back of his mind he imagined the future lecture he’d receive from Will. ‘What did I say about unnecessary power usage?’ Still, looking at the horses, Nico figured it was worth it.

“Woah,” Leo smiled. “That’s so much cooler than a regular horse, or even a robot one.”

“More durable too, any attack and they’ll just reassemble.”

“Dude!” Leo was now practically jumping up and down, “we are so going to win this!”

Part of Nico wanted to join Leo in the excited jumping. But the other part of him thought that would be out of character; what this ‘character’ of himself was though, he didn’t know. Nico had struggled with displaying his excitement, every time he felt that burst of joy. That buzz of happiness. It reminded him of when he was younger, first arriving at camp with that same feeling. He wondered where that little boy had gone.

A horn blew, drawing Nico out of thoughts.

“That’s Chiron,” Leo said. “Time to head to the starting line.” A devilish grin appeared on his face that made Nico a little nervous. Clearly Leo’s chariot was armed with machinery that would even make the Stoll brothers jealous.

As they stood in the chariot at the starting line, Nico rethought all his life decisions. Why had he agreed to do this race again? At the time it seemed like the only way to get Leo to leave him alone, since he had been profusely begging Nico to team up with him every day. Now Nico couldn’t decide which one was worse, and annoying Leo or a brutal chariot race. Suddenly a cold chill ran down Nicos spine, he couldn’t place it but something was wrong.

Before he could dig deeper into this feeling, Chiron blew his horn again, signaling the beginning of the race. The chariot promptly took off, immediately blasting ahead with the upmost speed. Nico had to grip the railing just to not go flying off, struggling as the winds made it hard to keep his eyes open.

The Athena chariot tried to launch a net from behind them in an attempt to catch the chariot, but it wasn’t fast enough. Instead, the net came flying back at their chariot getting caught in the wheels and sending the campers into a panic. At the same time the Stoll brothers were shooting some contraption they’d made at the Ares cabin. When resulted in both chariots veering off track and into the woods.

As they continued to speed up, Nico watched as all the other chariots got farther and farther away. He’d began to think this was going to be a lot easier than he’d initially thought.

“Works just like a dream!” Leo yelled over the winds.

Nico nodded, pointing to the floating finish line, Chiron had decided the chariots needed to not just be fast but be able to account for height too. Of course for Leo that had been an easy task. For the others, well they had to hope their pegasuses were strong

Sooner than expected they were nearing the finish line, and Nico waited for something to go wrong. He was sure the others would catch up and give them a hard time, but when he looked back the other chariots were still lagging behind.

Then a hint of smoke began to fill the air, slowly becoming stronger. Nico looked around, the chariot was shaking now. A deep rumbling that shook his whole body. More smoke started pouring out from the golden edges, polluting Nico’s lungs.

Leo looked shocked, rushing around as he tried to find the culprit of the smoke. “I don’t get what’s wrong?”

A fire sprung up and danced along the rims of the chariot, Nico stepped away, coughing as his lungs begged for clean air. He looked at Leo with panic in his eyes at the same time Leo seemed to realize that Nico wasn’t immune to smoke.

“Oh gods what do we do?” Leo called out.

Turns out Nico didn’t need to answer that question because in a blast of light the chariot exploded, sending them both flying.

The world went black.

—

Why did every creation of his blow up? That’s what Leo wondered as he plummeted from the sky. He figured he would turn into a Leo pancake when he hit the ground, splat.

The idea would’ve made him laugh if he weren’t currently falling to his death. Leo could still see the flaming chariot above him, another masterpiece blown to pieces. Maybe that would be his legacy, the demigod who destroyed everything he made.

The wind was fast as he fell, blowing through his hair and stinging his eyes. It was eerily familiar, probably because it wasn’t the first time he’d fallen from the sky. As he fell further, Leo tightly shut his eyes, expecting to hit the ground any second. But instead he felt something hit him. Well, less like hit and more like grab. When he opened his eyes, he almost jumped out of his skin.

Jason had caught him, he was now face to face with him. Startlingly close. All Leo could see were his striking icy blue eyes. He felt Jason’s arms tightly secured around his waist, and he felt the breath of relief Jason sighed when he realized Leo was safely in one piece.

Why Leo obsessed over each of these small incriminate details, he would never say.

“Thanks superman,” Leo grinned nervously. He hoped the blush across his face wasn’t as noticeable as it felt.

Jason glared at him as they began to descend to the ground. “Next time i’ll let you fall.”

Leo was about to make another comment when his heart dropped, “Nico.”

Jason’s eyes widened as he looked up at the chariot. They seemed to flicker across the sky, as he tried to locate the other chariot rider. “Oh gods.”

Splash.

Just in time Leo turned to see Nico plunge into the lake, Jason had been too far to reach him seeing as they’d somehow been blasted in two different directions.

Leo’s shirt was still smoking from the explosion and his bones felt like jelly, but it didn’t stop him from rushing to the lake as soon as they touched the ground.

Will had gotten there first, he’d always managed to get there first. He began dragging Nico from the water, a crowd of panicked demigods forming around them.

As soon as Nico was pulled to shore Leo stumbled his way over, pushing through the crowd. “Is he okay? Is he breathing? Oh gods this is all my fault.” He stuttered and tripped over his words as the guilt built up inside his stomach like rocks. He shouldn’t have made Nico join this stupid race, he should’ve known it would go wrong. Everything he did always went wrong.

“Leo, don’t say that.” Jason stepped forward putting a hand on Leo’s shoulder.

Leo wanted to believe him but the guilt was overpowering it consumed his mind.

He silently watched as Will hummed placing his hand on Nico’s chest. Leo didn’t know what he’d do if Nico didn’t wake up, but luckily he did. Shooting up, coughing and spluttering, Leo recognized the look of relief that flashed across Wills face.

Jason’s hand gripped Leo’s shoulder tighter as he remembered to breathe. Suddenly his adrenaline rush crashed and so did he. His knees went weak and he would’ve fallen if Jason hadn’t caught him, again.

“You okay?” Jason asked softly. A warm tone that felt delicate and strange, yet it reassured Leo every time he heard it.

Leo nodded, looking back at Nico who was smothered in a hug from Will. He seemed to be repeatedly telling Will he was okay, despite him being dripping wet with several burnt holes in his shirt.

Nicos seemed to search the crowd until he locked eyes with Leo, he figured Nico would be incredibly pissed off at him. But he wasn’t, his eyes flashed a look of concern before he mouthed you okay?

Leo nodded as convincingly as he could, overly aware of Jason’s warm presence behind him, being the only thing holding him up.

The crowd was dispersing as Will managed to pull Nico to his feet, draping his arm across his shoulders. “Both of you,” he looked towards Leo, “infirmary. Now.”

On the way, Jason did most of the walking, as Leo’s new jelly legs hadn’t regained their sense of feeling yet. His whole body was aching by the time they’d reached the infirmary. Turns out, being exploded hurts. Shouldn’t have been surprising as he’d been exploded before.

As Leo sat on the infirmary bed his mind was spinning. He thought through every piece of bronze, every gear, wondering what had gone wrong. He had double, scratch that, triple checked to make sure everything was in tip top shape. Yet something still went wrong, seemingly out of nowhere. He replayed when the fire broke out, despite his frantic waving and patting down of the fire it didn’t extinguish. The realization hit him like a semi truck.

“Greek fire,” he said out of nowhere while Jason and Will rushed around; checking that he and Nico weren’t severely injured.

“What?” Jason said, his hand freezing in place as he picked up a bandage.

Nico inhaled sharply, looking at Leo as if he immediately understood. After hanging out for so long Nico had learned how to understand whatever thought process Leo was on, “That’s what it was, that’s why it kept burning. Why was it in the chariot?”

“I don’t know,” Leo sighed. He racked his brain for any contraptions that would lead to the emergence of greek fire. But he was sure that it wasn’t built into his chariot at all. “I never used greek fire, I don’t get how it would just erupt like that…unless…”

Jason’s eyes widened, “Do you think someone put it there on purpose?”

Leo met his eyes, he knew an accusation like this was dangerous. It meant that someone intentionally sabotaged their chariot, in a way that could only be intended to kill.

“But why would someone try to hurt you with fire?” Jason asked.

Leo felt his heartbeat stick in his throat, “Maybe I wasn’t the one they were intending to harm.”

He looked over at Nico whose face was now unreadable.

“You’re saying someone tried to kill Nico?” Will asked, his tone laced with anger.

“That or they meant to injure him severely, I guess they didn’t account for the explosion preventions I had in place.” Leo replied.

“Explosion preventions?” Jason asked, his eyebrow tilting up in the way it always did when he was confused.

“Yeah, I figured with my track record i’d add an extra layer of protection. Something that would lessen the impact of a possible explosion. That’s why we went flying away and not…well everywhere.”

“First of all, that’s impressive.” Jason spoke, “Secondly, who would intentionally try to hurt Nico?”

No one answered. None of them could fathom the idea that someone in camp would deliberately do something like this. Leo grasped at straws to find meaning, to find an excuse as to why this happened. But there was nothing. He knew Nico had never done any harm to cause this, he’d been nothing but a hero. He thought that everyone knew that, that everyone should know that. So why did this happen?

“We should talk to Chiron,” Jason said, breaking the heavy silence that filled the room.

—

Will was fuming. Almost literally. He was sure if he’d been Leo his whole body would be aflame. The idea that someone had targeted Nico in such a way, was impossible for him to swallow. His anger felt hot, it bubbled up like a volcano inside of him. He could feel it ready to erupt any second as he dug his nails into his palm.

Then a light touch pulled him from his inner turmoil. A cold hand had slipped its way between his fingers, releasing the tension. Will looked over at Nico and felt a wave of guilt, he hadn’t thought about how Nico must be feeling now.

Years ago Will had told Nico that he was welcome at camp, that no one had pushed him away. Now someone had tried to kill him.

His guilt was followed by fear. Will tightly squeezed Nico’s hand, pouring every ounce of assurance into the touch and praying in his mind that this situation wouldn’t influence Nico to run away again. Just the thought of Nico suddenly disappearing like he had years ago made his heart feel like it was being suffocated slowly. He had to remind himself Nico was okay, he was right by his side.

Explaining what had happened to Chiron was the easy part, it was Dionysus who was difficult.

“We must find this traitor at once!” Mr D. stood up slamming the table, vines began to crawl up from the floor and around the table legs.

Will had never seen him so mad. Of course, if it were anyone else he’d probably just shrug it off. But this was Nico. So Mrs D. was reasonably pissed.

“We have to handle this carefully,” Chiron said; his eyes were filled with a deep sense of sadness and disappointment. He too couldn’t imagine why someone had done this.

“Carefully?” Mr. D asked, his eyes glowed with a dangerous hue of purple. “I say we round everybody up and unrelentlessly interrogate them until the rat comes out.”

“We cannot tortue innocent campers in hopes of finding the culprit,” Chiron calmly explained.

“We can’t. I can.”

“Then you would be punished by several angry gods.”

Mr D. had no response this time, sighing as he sat back down. The vines following suite as they shrank back into the floorboards.

“I don’t understand who would’ve done this, and why now?” Jason said, his eyes seemed to be clouded in worries.

“Leo, is there anyway this could’ve been a prank taken too far?” Chiron asked, there was a sort of desperation in his eyes.

“I really wish it was, but there’s no way they couldn’t of known about the precautions. I added the explosion barrier last second. The greek fire must’ve been somewhere near the engine, whoever put it there wanted the chariot to catch fire and explode. Midair,” Leos voice was somber, he leaned listlessly on his elbows which set on the table.

Jason watched Leo carefully, his face seemed to analyze Leo’s every movement, every word. Will recognized his attentiveness.

Chiron sighed, “We will investigate this. Perhaps there is someone, something, whispering things to the demigods again.”

“We can talk to Clovis,” Will added. “If it’s something to do with dreams or visions he might be able to help.”

Chiron nodded, “Just be careful. I don’t know how whoever did this will react if they catch on that we are suspicious.”

Will nodded, he couldn’t help but notice how silent Nico had been. He seemed to be lost in thought. Will wish he could crawl into his brain and disintegrate all the negative thoughts.

It appeared Mr D. was also concerned, his face flashed with worry as he looked over at Nico.

“We’ll talk to Clovis tomorrow,” Will made the executive decision. “You two need rest.”

Jason agreed, not allowing Leo to protest by quickly grabbing him and dragging him out the door way. “Let’s go hotshot.”

It was dark, a cold breeze blowing through camp as Will and Nico walked; a blanket of silence lay between them. Nico seemed to be trapped inside his mind again, his eyes dancing with unspoken worries.

“You okay?” Will asked as softly as possible, reaching out to touch Nico’s shoulder.

Nico nodded, “I guess.”

Will frowned, “You guess?” He expected Nico to lie and hit him with a ‘I’m fine’ like he normally did.

“I’m not sure what to think to be honest.” Nico replied, he began chewing on his bottom lip; a nervous habit Will had taken note of several times.

“Yeah...” Wills voice was quiet, his racked his mind for the perfect thing to say, but came back with nothing.

The two of them kept walking as Nico slightly leaned into Wills touch, despite his uncertainty he still sought comfort.

“I’ll stay in your cabin tonight,” Will paused, “to protect you.”

Nico face spread into a smile, a smile that punched Will right in his stomach. He felt a sense of relief to see him smile, “Yeah i’m sure that’s the reason.”

“What?” Will raised his hands in false defense, “It’s a perfectly reasonable excuse.”

“Uh huh, super convincing.” Nico’s voice was coated with sarcasm, which was a stark contrast to the smile that danced across his face.

“It’s an excuse that would hold up in court, you know i’m not a lawyer but I know these things-“

Nico cut him off by grabbing his hand, “Come on sunshine.” He tugged Will lightly towards his cabin, it was obvious he didn’t want to be alone. That’s not to say Will didn’t want to stay with him on his own accord, obviously it was a little bit for himself. But mostly for Nico, mostly.

—

“Gods Leo use your legs.”

“I can’t they feel like jello, my arms too, and my-my everything!” Leo whined as he let himself be dragged along by Jason.

“You sure you didn’t hit your head in the explosion too?” Jason feigned annoyance. He was intentionally bantering with Leo, trying to boost the mood. Anything that could distract him from the fact of a potential murderer in camp was good, and Leo was really good at distracting.

“I think the explosion hit everything,” Leo stumbled. Jason quickly caught him, snaking his hand around Leo’s waist. He hoped Leo couldn’t hear his heartbeat which was pounding so loudly in his ears.

“You’re clearly incapable of walking,” Jason sighed. He figured he was getting quite good at acting as he almost believed his own false annoyance. “Just let me carry you or at this rate we’re going to be eaten by harpy’s.”

Leo smirked, “If you insist.”

Leo was a light weight against Jason’s back as he locked his arms around Leo’s legs; and when Jason walked, Leo’s arms dangled from around his shoulders. Then with a sigh he rested his chin on the top of Jason’s head.

“Dang the weather is pretty nice up here,” Leo said, his hands absently drumming against Jason’s shirt.

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Jason replied, earning a small thump against his chest.

Leo paused as he noticed where Jason was headed, “Correct me if i’m wrong, but this does not look like the way to my cabin.”

“Well..” Jason almost panicked looking for any excuse, “I figure you need to be watched over. You know, with your jello legs and brain.”

“Aww,” Leo teased, “are you scared?”

Jason tried to bite back a smile when his lame excuse succeeded. “Yes, terrified.”

“Don’t worry Jace, I’ll protect you from the big bad scary Zeus statue.” Leo giggled as he tightened his arms around Jason.

Jason smiled, he didn’t say the real reason he’d wanted Leo to stay with him. He didn’t say it was because he worried about his safety, that he didn’t want him beating himself up with guilt. Or that he’d seen Will sneak into the Hades cabin and felt a sense of envy.

Jason contentedly carried Leo on his back into the cabin; and as they entered Leo seemed to shrink against Jason whispering, “He’s looking at me,” before bursting into giggles.

“Now you know how I feel every night,” Jason complained. He walked over to his bed, where he’d recently gotten a divider; placing it so that his view of the statue was obscured. When he reached the bed he turned and promptly dropped Leo onto his bed.

“Ouch,” Leo said, sprawling out on the bed with his eyes closed and tongue stuck out as if he were emulating roadkill.

“Looks like jello boy died, what a shame.”

Leo opened one of his eyes and when he saw Jason was still staring at him he closed it again; a grin began spreading across his face, though he’d tried to hold back.

“You leave me no choice,” Jason rubbed his hands together, creating a harmless amount of static electricity. “Clear!” He called out thrusting his hands towards Leo.

A small shock was produced and Leo sprung up falling onto the floor with a yelp, pieces of his curly hair stuck up in the static.

Jason burst into laughter, almost doubling over as his whole body shook.

“What the hades man,” Leo looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I resurrected you,” Jason said between giggles. He’d laughed so hard his eyes began to water.

Leo stood up, patting down his hair. “Okay, i’ve been resurrected before and it did not feel like that.”

Jason shrugged, “What can I say? I’m too good.”

Leo shoved him lightly, pretending to be mad although he was still smiling. “Whatever, because of that you’re sharing the bed.”

“Fine.” Jason pretended it was an inconvenience. In reality he was desperate to be near Leo, to be by his side in any way possible. As close as possible. Leo emanated this warmth in a way Jason had become addicted to. It was a warmth that filled his bones and soul completely and fully.

So when Leo curled up next to him, it took all of Jason’s willpower not to wrap his arms around him and bask in the warmth. Just being beside him had to be enough, yet still he yearned for the full closeness.

Soon he heard the soft breathing from Leo next to him, the moonlight from the window filtering in and sparkling my across his face. His eyelashes look so delicate in the light and the splash of freckles across his face started to resemble a constellation. Jason almost hoped that the moment would last forever; that tomorrow wouldn’t come. He didn’t want to face the harsh truth that someone in camp had tried to hurt his friends. He didn’t want to leave Leo’s side. Not again. The fear of losing him was always so strong because he’d lost him before, they’d both lost each other. Now they were together again and Jason prayed that they could stay that way.

But he doubted anyone was listening to that prayer.

(Part Two)

[katsuizu-stuff]

Just remember in another universe…

kid bakugo took kid deku’s hand when he fell into the small river

kid bakugo would have stand up for kid deku when others picked on him

deku and bakugo are in different school’s (bakugo is at UA and deku is in a public high school)

deku still gets bullied even if it isn’t bakugo specifically

deku stopped caring about bakugo and paid no attention to bakugo

deku never went to ground beta and bakugo stood there waiting for him to come

deku never told bakugo about OFA and bakugo would’ve find out about OFA just like the rest of the class

bakugo didn’t rip his paper/letter that deku wrote to him personally

bakugo was to late to save deku and deku got impaled or would be dead

bakugo wouldn’t have found out that he is the closest person to deku

[sunnynwanda]

Errors in translation

"Herzchen, stop that," Villain frowns, dodging the car that flies right over their head. "That asshat needs to die, you know that better than anyone."

"The fuck did you just call me?" Hero catches a piece of debris mid-air, stopping it from crushing the man shaking on the ground. Pathetic. "That asshat is still a governmental official. You can't just kill him off."

"It means idiot in my mother tongue," Villain makes another attempt to crush the corrupt judge, failing when the Hero covers the aforementioned asshat with their own body. "He let a serial killer go!"

"I know that!" Hero screams at the top of their lungs, pissed off both at Villain and the judge. The latter deserved every torture Villain could inflict on them. Hero couldn't deny that. "Killing him won't fix it."

"It will if his successor knows what happened to him." They weren't wrong, though Hero would never admit to it. But they needed Villain's reputation to be clean of murder. Ever since they had agreed to collaborate in ensuring safety for the city. Villain's official reason was their desire to be the sole criminal of the city. Hero knew they wanted a safe place for their little sister, that now lived with them. And Hero would have less work to do, making it a win-win situation.

"Let me deal with this, okay?" Hero requests, gracing Villain with their pleading puppy eyes. Always works.

"Ugh, do whatever you want, just stop looking at me like that!" They exclaim, taking a step back. "You're disgusting."

Hero shakes their head to keep a smile from forming on their face when they hear a whimper from behind them. Ugh, the asshat. 

"I have no idea what you did to him, but I applaud you,Herzchen" Villain smirks, striding towards the edge of the roof. Hero shrugs, placing a hand over their eyes to cover them from the sun. "I heard he got arrested."

"Sure did," Hero is smug, and they know it. "Told ya, let me deal with it."

"Killing him would still be more effective," they claim, no longer hiding their grin. Hero nods, getting up to continue their nightly patrol.

"Next time you feel inclined for homicide, call me first?" They step off the building but remain floating in front of Villain. "I might convince you to stop."

Villain watches the streets beneath their feet, lights blurry because of how tired their eyes are. "If there's anyone who can do that, it's you, Herzchen." They whisper, part of them hoping the wind will conceal their words from their rival's acute hearing. It does not.

"Stop calling me that!" Hero's exasperation brings an unwanted smile to Villain's face, so they shake their head standing up to leave the meeting point before it forms on their face. 

"It's not "idiot", is it? That thing you keep calling me." Hero's voice almost drowns in the wind. They know Villain won’t tell them. They also know that they won’t be able to sleep today. That’s what they get for crushing on the ‘enemy’.

Villain freezes in place, a soft smirk fighting its way onto their face before they leap into the darkness. "’Course not."

Masterlist

[slepsh]

| Tighnari headcanons |

As always, male reader.

We stan a fluffy-eared boy.

I kinda feel like writing fluff so I'll do that.

He loves it when you rub his ears, he'll lean in for more pats from the you.

Would just cling to you when he's tired.

Fluffy tail. Definitely hides things in it. Also, would wrap it around your leg sometimes.

Suggests you books, tv shows, foods, restaurants, and even who you should avoid!

Gives you random flowers he finds when he's looking in the forests of Sumeru.

Cuddles you before and after getting in bed, and when you wake up.

Hates clothes that are too tight. Mostly on his knees.

Well, this was something. Also, i wrote this in class, so I'm sorry it's short.

[siriustaylorsversion]

some of my favorite blondie moments on twitter

[egophiliac]

once again, don't think I'm not still obsessing over 7-12

(eventually I will get back to being less scribbly, whoops)

[paintedcrows]

It is imperative to me that Bill and Stan do torrid Duchess Approves roleplay and argue about character motivations

[rin-may-1103]

The Eyes of Death. Pt 2

Prev. | Master post | Next

"Robin!" Orcale cried through the coms, startling Damian as he ducked beneath a punch thrown his way. Growling, Damian Sparta kicked the goon before him, spun around, and throat-punched the last one standing.

"What?" he huffed, glancing around his area to see if he had missed something; Father was facing off against Penguin, Tim was taunting Mr. Freeze, and Jason was plowing his way through the rest of the goons down on the ground floor.

Gunshots flashed by and up toward the roof, drawing his attention.

Turning around, Damian watched as Dick jumped from the rafters and dropped two other goons with brutal precision, their guns clattering to the ground. That's four. He could still hear Steph and Cass fighting in the other room over the comms, which makes it six. (Seven if he counted Duke, who was at home resting after a long patrol) They were still up and fighting, which meant nothing was out of place.

"Your boyfriend wouldn't happen to be named Daniel Fenton, right?" Barbara's voice was strained. She practically begged him to correct her and prove she was mistaken.

Damian tensed up but rushed over to help down the goons surrounding Dick, his heart thundering away in his chest. "What happened?" he growled, drawing his katana when a goon quickly pulled a knife. The sound of metal against metal almost blocked her voice, but Damian could still make out what she said.

"He's been taken by some cultists, they're broadcasting everything. They're setting up the ritual right now; they cut his arm and are using his blood mixed with black paint to mark the ground. I'm pretty sure he's in shock, he barely reacted to the cut."

"Oh, shit!" Steph cursed, "not the boyfriend!"

"Where?" he grunted, parrying the knife away and kicking the guy over the railing. The man's scream cut out as his body hit the floor. "Robin!" Father hissed in anger, quickly tying up Penguin.

"He'll live!" Damian shouted back as he marched toward the door and reached for his grapple gun, "Oracle! Where is he?"

The others could finish up here without him, they had already dealt with what the two rouges had been planning. All that was left was to gather up the goons and hand everyone over to the GCPD. His boyfriend, who hadn't texted him to tell him he had gotten home safe because apparently he'd been kidnapped by cultists, was more important than beating the crap out of some lowly goons.

"The Financial District, warehouse seven on 4th street." she huffed, the sound of keys clicking as she sent him the live footage. Clicking the side of his mask, he was met with the sight of his boyfriend bound to a chair and glaring up at the camera. His blue eyes were filled with more annoyance than fear, but that didn't reassure Damian at all when the camera backed up and revealed Danny's heavily bleeding arm.

They must have cut an artery with how deep the wound looked. The only reason he wasn't already dead from blood loss was because of how tight the ropes were, it seemed.

"Shit," Damian hissed as he shot his grapple up at the building across the street, "make sure an ambulance is en route, Danny's going to need it. They must have cut through his radial artery if not both."

He could hear Dick hold back a gasp at his words but ignored it, as he flew toward the roof and started running. A loud thud landed behind him, followed by footsteps as Father's gruff voice echoed into his ear as they ran. "Jets on its way, it'll be faster than the car." Damian silently changed direction, continuing to jump roofs.

"I'm coming with," Dick demanded, landing a couple buildings behind them. Damian grunted in acknowledgment, not caring what they did. He needed to be there, he needed to be there thirty minutes ago; when he should have been walking Danny home like he asked him too.

"GOTHAM!" the person holding the camera shouted with a slip of paper in their other hand, allowing the camera a glimpse of the words. Danny's eyes narrowed even more, something like disbelief filling his eyes as the man continued talking, "Tonight, you shall join us as we summon the most powerful being in the world!"

"Danny looks so disappointed," Dick snorted, pulling out his own grapple at the sound of the jet approaching. Of course, Danny was disappointed, it was a waste of paper just to remember so little. Damian agreed but couldn't do anything other than huff at his brother's comment, most of his focus on watching the video.

Dick wrapped an arm around him, firing at the jet just as it rocketed overhead. They were launched into the air and dragged over buildings as the jet flew toward their destination. Father dangled across from them for a second before the three of them latched onto the rail under the jet designed for quick departure. They sat in silence as all three of them focused back on the video feed.

"Now," the leader shouted, coming into view as the cameraman backed up. Danny and the freshly painted circle were in full view, but so was the group of people off to the side. Damian recognized two of the people on the ground. Nancy and Wyatt, Danny's forcibly appointed college guides or "parents".

Damian remembers the day Danny had been introduced to them, spouting vitriol in anger about them being acephobic and how the college wouldn't allow him to switch guides. Nancy was crying, her mascara running down her face. Wyatt was deathly pale, all the blood bleeding away from his face as he watched the cultists in what looked like horrified guilt.

"Let us begin," the leader cheered, grabbing Danny's shoulders from behind him. Danny glanced worriedly at the group and then at the camera like he couldn't decide what he should focus on, subconsciously cringing away from the man behind him.

"Join me as we summon our lord and savior!" Danny narrowed his eyes in anticipation, "The great tyrant of the dead!" he now looked confused, "The embodiment of war and bloodshed!" back to worried, "The one named PARIAH DARK!" amused, because of course, his boyfriend would find the name amusing, "THE HORRIFIC GHOST KING!!!" now he was back to confused and worried.

The leader turned and walked back over to one of his followers, snatching an old book and opening it. Without any fanfare, the man began chanting, guiding his followers like he was the director of a twisted play.

"ten minutes," Father grunted, "Oracle, get everything you can on the ghost king. We need to know what we're about to run into. Call someone from Dark, we'll probably need their guide on how to deal with this."

Dick readjusted his grip, tightening his arm in reassurance as Danny's eyes glanced up and toward the rafters like he was looking for one of them. No, not like. He was looking for them; because Damian had promised him in the past that if he was ever in trouble, the bats would save him. And if not them then he would. Danny had rolled his eyes at the time, sarcastically calling him his hero. But he believed him because Damian had promised.

Damian growled as one of the cultists smashed a bowl on the ground, splattering Danny in what he had to assume was the blood and paint mixture Barbera had told him about earlier.

Damian watched as Danny glared at the black stains all over his front with disdain, trying to mutter something through the gag in his mouth the camera couldn't catch. "Is he seriously worried about his shirt?" Tim huffed over comms, the sound of police sirens growing louder.

"I would too if that's the only nice shirt I had," Steph grumbled before shouting something at someone.

"My boyfriend owns more than one shirt, Spoiler." Damian hissed.

"No offense, Damian," Steph laughed, "but your boyfriend looks like he crawled out of a dumpster after losing a fight against one of your raccoons."

"Oh, give him a break! The poor boy's just been kidnapped, of course, he looks bad." Barbera chided.

Damian went to respond but stopped to watch as another cultist stepped forward and tossed salt at Danny. Danny shook his head and glared at the cultist, only to be slapped in the face with another handful of salt for his efforts.

"That's one way to rub salt in the wound," Jason huffed, "make sure you kick that one in the dick for me."

"With pleasure," Damian grumbled, leaning back to try and see the warehouse they were heading toward. "Seven minutes," Father added, noticing how impatient Damian was starting to get.

they silently watched as the cultists continued chanting, Barbera occasionally telling them things she'd found. (She was having difficulty connecting with The Dark members, something about an unexpected mission off-world.)

Danny was starting to look tired, his face paler than usual (A hard feat, considering his boyfriend looked like a fresh corpse on a good day. If he didn't know any better, he would think his boyfriend had never spent a second in the sun his entire life.)

Suddenly, Danny started to cough, shaking his head, clenching his eyes closed in pain for a second before focusing back on the leader. "The blood loss is starting to catch up to him," Tim commented as Danny glanced up at the rafters again, "let the hospital know to have extra blood ready."

"Got it," Barbera agreed, still typing away. "No one's answering, I'm going to try Constantine, now."

"Two minutes," Father warned, getting ready to jump. Damian steadied himself, leaning forward to time his jump correctly. "Shit," Jason cursed, drawing Damian's attention back to the video in time to watch as a cultist raised a bloody blade into the air and slammed it into Danny's chest. "You need to get there, now!"

The cultist yanked out the knife and handed it to the leader, who was now standing in front of Danny. Danny's chest quickly stained red, his eyes wide in shock and horror.

"Take this lowly sacrifice as a sign of our eternal loyalty, and grace us with your presence! Your humble servants plead that your godly ears hear our prayers! Join us in this mortal realm and bequeath us your power and name to rectify the sins of our brethren!" the leader's voice echoed in the silent warehouse like a gunshot. but Damian couldn't hear a single word the man spoke as he watched Danny lean forward in pain, trying to grab at his chest.

His restrained hands pulled against the rope, causing more blood to leak from his wound, his eyes clenching shut as his left hand started glowing green. He suddenly started screaming, his voice strained like it was being ripped out of his throat, barely muffled by the gag.

A bright light flashed, spreading from where he'd been stabbed and crawling over his body. His skin turned gray, almost blue, like a body found out in a snowstorm. His hair started floating in an absent current like he was underwater. and his eyes started glowing a bright blue, growing brighter and brighter.

"NOW!" Father shouted, launching off the railing and gliding through the air. Damian didn't hesitate to follow, all his training allowing him to go on autopilot as he used his cape to guide his fall.

Danny slumped forward, his head hanging limp as the warehouse went deathly silent.

Twisting in the air, Damian aimed his grapple hook and fired. It latched onto the warehouse and tugged him forward, his fall turning into a swing as he rocketed toward the glass window. "Your Highness?" someone asked, their voices glitching in and out with the video feed.

Damian watched as the Danny in the video slowly lifted his head in time with the Danny he could see through the quickly approaching glass. Damian only had a split second to register that his boyfriend's eyes were no longer blue, but bright green before his feet smashed through the window and he was landing in a roll on the ground.

Immediately, the camera feed disappeared from his view, allowing him to focus on what was around him. Father crashed through the skylight, showering the cultists in glass as he landed on the other side of the room. Dick landed next to him, fluidly popping up from his roll.

"Shit!" someone shouted, "it's the bats!"

"run!" someone else yelled.

Damian lunged forward, burying his fist into the first cultist's face with a satisfying crunch. The warehouse flooded with loud screams and rapid movement.

"Dammit!" the leader cursed, dragging Damian's attention over to him. He had left the circle at some point, crazily looking around to try and find a quick exit.

Abandoning the cultists he was fighting, Damian quickly sprinted at the man. Unsheathing his katana, Damian attacked. The leader used the bloody knife to parry, scrambling back to get away. Damian growled, about to follow when his eyes landed on Danny's black and blood-stained face right behind the man.

Bright Lazarus green eyes stared back.

~

Danny's vision tilted, or was that just his head? It felt like he was in one of those twisty things NASA shoves their astronauts in under the claim of training for departure and reentry into Earth's atmosphere. or maybe it felt like a hundred pounds of soaked cotton balls shoved behind his eyes and lit on fire?

he couldn't tell, at this point, his head could be detached for all he knew. Wait, no. He's done that before, this feels nothing like that. So, he still had his head... but does his head still have a body???

He would glance down, but he's afraid he won't be able to lift his head again... Had he lifted his head? or had the world moved around him like it does in the realms? Where was he?

Danny's core pulsed in confusion as someone stepped over the circle, quickly followed by someone else. No one was supposed to enter unless a deal was about to be made. Had he made a deal?

Blinking, he focused his blurry vision as much as he could on the figure slowly approaching him. Had he already been looking at them? His vision tilted again, making his gut roll in nausea. A voice slowly broke through the static ringing in his ears, and his shirt suddenly pulled in frightened hands.

"Your Highness! these are the sinners I told you about!" the voice screeched, a pitch so out of the norm that Danny could only assume the voice belonged to a small fly-turned-eldritch little girl.

Wait a moment, that was his title? Your Highness? seriously? Was everyone going to be calling him that? He was the king; wasn't it supposed to be majesty??? He'll ask Dora later; now wasn't the time.

"Oh great ghost king!" the high-pitched voice cracked and lowered back to one he was starting to get familiar with, "Pariah Dark, lend me your power so I might defeat him!"

Did he seriously just call Danny, Pariah??? The man, the leader of the cult, Mr. totally-read-one-fake-ritual-book-when-he-was-a-teen-and-now-has-to-make-it-everyone's-problem, kneeled in front of Danny, his hands twisted into Danny's ruined shirt. The blurry figure froze, not moving now that Danny had broken eye contact to look down at the horrible man.

Danny might be completely out of it and have no idea what's going on anymore, (he was in so much pain, why was there so much pain? he wanted it to go away, why wasn't it going away?) but he's been trained for moments like this. He can't let anyone see him as weak, not when he has to protect the realms as is his kingly duty.

Clockwork thought it would be a good idea to drop him in the middle of a meeting with some demons right after Danny had pulled an all-nighter and fought three of his rouges. let's just say, Danny was not pleased with the old goat after that. On the other hand, every time he meets a new demon, they seem to respect him much more than before. (he's still not sure what he did to earn that, but whatever)

So, acting like nothing was wrong would be easy peasy.

Sitting up straight, like Dora taught, Danny gazed down at the man who had demanded his attention. He turned his jaw intangible, dropping the gag and allowing him to speak freely again, "why should I?" His voice was echoey, cold, and devoid of the usual emotion.

It was completely different than what it usually was. Like he was a completely different person. (He sounded like Dan) which caught Danny off guard, but he had to ignore it for now. Clockwork had said that Danny Phantom was different from King Phantom, maybe this is what he meant. (hopefully not, he hated sounding like Dan. Was this permanent? was he always going to sound like this???)

"Why?" the leader stumbled, letting go of Danny's shirt in surprise, "because I summoned you! I control you!"

He looked outraged like it was Danny's fault he was in this mess.

Snorting, Danny smirked at the man. "Why should I lend you my power when you haven't even gotten my name correct?" That was like common summoning courtesy 101, right? Frostbite said something like that... or was it Pandora? Wait... wasn't that the demon etiquette? What was the ghost-summoning etiquette then? Also, could he even lend his power to someone else??? like, demons could, but could Danny???

"Who cares!" the man snapped, picking up the knife he had dropped next to him and slashing it at Danny. He didn't even have to think as he instinctively turned his right arm intangible and snatched the man's wrist, clenching it tightly to make him drop it. He was not going to let the man stab him again, thank you very much.

his core grumbled in annoyance, scattering his thoughts for a moment. What was he doing? his arm burned like it had been shot with an ecto blast, but that wasn't right, it was cut by-

Oh, right. cultists. Gotta deal with that.

Fazing the ropes off, Danny carefully stood up. An almost silent whine drew his attention up; it was the fuzzy figure, or now that Danny could actually see a little easier, Robin. Huh, looks like the bats actually made it after all. A little late to the party, but oh well.

Wait...

Shit, he didn't need the Bats up in all of his business. Especially since everything the ritual did to him was recorded, the ghostly stuff included. (Was Damian watching? Did he think Danny was dead now? a normal person would have died right?) He'd have to clear up any misinterpretations later, right now he has to focus on gaslighting the Fuck out of Batman and his partners.

Maybe he won't even have to deal with the Justice League if he pulls this off.

ok, what do they think the situation is? A Cult recording themselves sacrificing some random dude, the dude gets stabbed in the chest (probably assumed dead, he'll have to fix that...), then some ghostly shit happens, and the dude has glowing eyes... which basically lines up with the socially accepted symptoms of possession.

Cool, cool, cool. Danny'll just act like he's possessing himself then. No need to make it weird. Or reveal that he's a halfa.

...

How the fuck was a ghost king, who for all intents and purposes, knows nothing about mortal life, supposed to act when possessing a random body????? does he call it his body?? vessel? homing beacon?

"-leas me this intance! I summoned you, you listen to me! ME! I summoned you. Therefore, you have to do as I say!" the leader's voice broke through Danny's thoughts, bringing him back to the present. Again. Man, he seriously needs to get his shit together. Maybe it was the blood loss, they had cut him pretty badly earlier...

Sighing, which hurt a lot actually... he should probably fix that. Mentally shrugging, Danny allowed his ectoplasm to heal his wounds, which in turn settled his core a lot more than he expected. Maybe he shouldn't suppress it so much in the future... OR he should, and just not allow himself to be used in other rituals. Yeah, that's probably it. Man, he's going to have to talk with Frostbite after this is all over.

"You know nothing of which you speak, mortal," Danny grumbled, turning slowly to examine the warehouse. The bats had been fast, or Danny was just really out of it, because not only were all the cultists knocked out but the other hostages were gone.

"I know enough!" the man screeched, hitting his free fist against Danny's arm in an attempt to get Danny to release him. The only thing that was going to do was leave a bruise. Robin growled almost silently in response, which was weird. Why would Robin be upset about this man hitting Danny? or was he more upset along the lines of believing the random "hostage" Danny is "possessing" being hurt?

Yeah, that was probably it. All right, time to act all Ghost Kingly or whatever. If he was about to do something stupid then Clockwork would intervene. Since he hasn't so far, Danny was taking this as the old man giving his permission to proceed.

"Stop bruising my new favorite vessel, or I'll show you why it's a bad idea to mess with the dead." Danny hissed, pulling the man up so they were eye to eye. (it wasn't that hard, considering Danny was short as fuck. Who knew dying would stunt your growth?)

The man leaned back, his eyes wide in fear. His face turned green, or was that just the light from Danny's eyes? how bright were they glowing???

Oh, right, old ghost king, you need to focus here Danny.

Rolling his eyes, Danny harshly (not as hard as he could have though, even if he wanted to punt the man into the sun) tossed the man out of the circle and toward Robin. Nightwing, who Danny had just noticed was also there, quickly rushed over and wrangled the man over to the pile of cultists and tied him up.

"Your vessel," Batman grunted, stepping up to stand next to Robin. (Danny wasn't sure when, but Robin had left the circle. Which meant they probably had someone with magic experience telling them what to do now.)

"Yes, mine," Danny huffed, slowly turning to study the broken windows. his head was killing him, like four migraines stuffed into one killing him...

Do they not know how to use a door? Like, how often do they break through windows? Like, sure, it probably saves them a few extra seconds during a fight, but seriously? Do they at least pay the owners back for the property damage?

"He's not yours," Robin hissed, unsheathing his katana. Batman rested his hand on his shoulder, likely to warn Robin from doing something stupid.

Lifting his brow, Danny glanced down at his body. Did Robin know him? Or was he really just that protective of the people in his city? Even though Danny wasn't technically a Gothamite? He remembered Damian telling him at one point that if he was ever in trouble, the bats would save him. Hmm, yeah, probably just very protective of the people in their city then.

Danny was the same way when he was Phantom; those tourists might not be native Amity Parkers, but they were his tourists. So back off, ghost number 700 of the week. Or something along those lines.

Yeah, that's probably it.

"He," oh wow, speaking about himself was so weird, "was used as a sacrifice to summon me, which makes him mine." Ignoring the fact that his body belonged to him beforehand because, again, this is his body, but you know, can't tell them that. Also, even if this was someone else's body, it'd technically be Danny's. Look, being the ghost king meant Danny owned a lot of weird things, one of those being literally anyone's dead body. (He refused to think about the fact that Pariah had technically owned his body.)

Glancing up, Danny watched as Batman tightened his grip on Robin's shoulder. "Release his body at once, you lowly demonic pit waste! His body-"

"OK!" Nightwing cut in, clapping his hands. "How about this," he glanced at Robin and then back at Danny, clearly nervous about Robin's outburst. Also, what the hell was pit waste? Like, obviously Robin was insulting him, but he could have at least used an insult Danny would understand.

Also, why was Robin insulting a supposedly all-powerful king of the dead? Wasn't he supposed to be one of the more rational vigilantes? Maybe he just got emotional when he thought he failed to protect someone? Which is completely understandable, Danny did not react well when he failed to keep someone safe.

"We apologize for any wrongdoing Robin's words have caused. You willingly go back to your realm, leave your vessel's body behind, and we" he gestured at himself and the other two, "don't get other magic users involved? how does that sound?"

"Is that a threat?" because seriously, that sounded exactly like a threat. Did they seriously not know how to talk to other dimensional beings? Shouldn't they, as Justice League members, know how to diplomatically converse with others? Especially ones that could kill them with a glance? (like, Danny obviously wouldn't do that, but come on!)

His core stuttered again, drawing his attention to the fact that Danny was running out of power to keep up whatever transformation he'd taken on. Which was weird because he's obviously not in his ghost form, so why was it so draining??? And there's plenty of ectoplasm in the air, so, like, this was just ridiculous.

"Whatever," Danny huffed, looking down to study the circle as Nightwing started waving his hands in denial. "I already healed the vessel, he'll technically live." He could feel the pull it had on his core, which meant he had no idea what would happen once it was broken. Would he feel the same things he felt earlier? or would it just be like letting go of someone's hand?

Man, he was too tired for this crap. He wanted to go home and sleep. maybe steel his boyfriend's hoodie and cuddle with Cujo.

You know what? Danny didn't care, he should just break the circle and act like nothing happened. Yep, that's the plan. Still, he should probably prepare for if something goes wrong, you know, like passing out.

Carefully, both because the world was still kind of spinning around him, and to keep the bats from reacting badly, Danny made his way to stand in front of the Vigilantes. They should have quick reflexes; if he passes out, they should be able to catch him, right?

Without warning, Danny dragged his shoe over the line and broke the circle. Immediately his core hissed and all of his energy disappeared. Crumpling forward, Danny barely processed the sight of Robin's panicked lunge to catch him before everything turned dark and his body felt on fire.

Next?

[thetorturedlovergirl]

So you're telling me that if Elphaba hadn't been able to turn Fiyero into a scarecrow, Dorothy would have found a beaten and nearly dead man tied to a post.

[motorsportbarbie13]

Zip Me Up?

In which you're getting ready for a night out but you need your boyfriend's help. Or do you?

Warnings: none unless you hate tooth achingly sweet fluff Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

When you heard the front door snick close, your eyes fall straight to your phone. 6:45. Shit. You were going to be late and you weren’t even dressed yet. In your defense, you had spent a few extra hours at the salon that day with Carmen who kept talking you into more and more treatments. ‘It’s a reward for getting through your first F1 season as a WAG!’ she had joked while Lily nodded along in agreement on your other side, which lead to you adding a facial on to the end of your massage Lando had booked for you today. 

You were regretting it now because that door closing signaled that your boyfriend was home and you were still sat in front of vanity mirror in the skimpy black lingerie that was supposed to be a surprise for Lando after the FIA awards tonight. You knew he was still salty about losing the championship to Max by 20 points and the bits of lace and silk were supposed to help get his mind off things. 

While the season had ended well, with Lando picking up a total of seven wins and McLaren securing their first constructors championship on ages, the sting of losing out to Max in the end was just a bit too much for your boyfriend to handle. You had known him for years, your brother racing the same circuits as Lando as a child, so you knew how competitive he was and how badly it hurt him to come up just short. While your brother had left the sport after he turned 16, he had joined the McLaren racing team as first an engineer before being promoted to strategist. 

You had run into Lando at the McLaren Technical Center one afternoon two years back while visiting your brother, a spark that had been present when you both were younger igniting again with one single look. The rest, as they say, was history. It had been a whirlwind really, the timing of it all simply perfect. 

“Babe, you almost ready? The car is going to be here in fifteen.” Lando calls from what sounds like the kitchen. He had just popped out to get bottle of whiskey to put in his flask, insisting that being half way drunk was the only way he was going to survive the awards dinner. 

In the kitchen, Lando sets the bottle of whiskey down before opening the silver flask you had gotten him for his birthday in November. Engraved on the side was his monogram and a tiny little F1 car under it. 

“Almost ready! Be out in five!” You shout back and Lando can’t help but chuckle. Five minutes in your time was actually closer to 15 so he knew he had time for a drink. 

Lando busies himself in the kitchen while he waits, knowing he’s going to tease you about taking so long to get ready while not meaning a word of his banter. You scurry about the bedroom, for once glad he hasn’t come looking for you so you can get ready quickly without being distracted. It was Lando’s constant state: Distraction. His curls distracted you. His smile distracted you. The way he said your name distracted you. Everything about your boyfriend caused you to be utterly distracted and while you wouldn’t have it any other way, sometimes a girl just needs 10 minutes alone to focus and get her makeup on. 

Minutes pass and the house is quiet, save for the clink of some ice in a glass as Lando enjoys a quick drink before you leave for the night. 

“Lan?” You call and God does that do something to him. The nickname you have for him is his favorite word. Not because he likes being called Lan, although he doesn’t mind. No, he loved it because of the way his name fell off your lips like sweet slow drips of honey, sugary coated and thick. 

He makes his way down the hall, knowing exactly where to find you: your dressing room. It had been your only demand when you moved in with him 3 months ago. If he got a gaming room, you deserved a dressing room. And Lando, not being one to ever say no to you, had immediately had his workout room converted to the dressing room of your dreams. 

He stops once he reaches the doorway, pausing to lean against the frame to take you in. Your hair was done in loose curls, the shiny locks tumbling down over your shoulders made him forget his last name. Your black dress, shimmering under the dim lights you only used after your makeup was finished, was a long column of silk that made Lando’s throat go dry. 

When you see him standing there, practically eating you alive with the feral look on his face, a slow grin spreads across your face. “Hi baby.” You coo before gathering your hair up in one hand while spinning around. “Can you zip my dress up for me?”

Truth be told, you could have probably done it yourself but you also wanted to give Lando a sneak at what was under your dress right when he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Teasing him with little glimpses of skin was one of your favorite past times. Lando knew that you could have done it yourself too, but he appreciated being needed and would never pass up the opportunity to run his fingers up your bare skin.

“Of course.” He says, crossing the room in a few strides to come stand behind you. Your perfume, a sweet and spicy dream of a fragrance, settled across his skin where it would linger all night, a constant reminder that you were his now. When you had waltzed into the MTC visiting your brother two years ago, he hadn’t recognized you at first. The moment he heard your voice though? He had known he was a goner. 

His fingers deftly maneuver the zipper up towards the top of the gown, the pads of his fingers leaving a smattering of goosebumps in their wake. When his job is done and your dress is secure, Lando dips his head to drop an open mouthed kiss in the crook of your neck, a place you can often find him kissing. When he starts to drag his tongue from his favorite spot up the column of your neck, you can’t help the sigh that falls from your lips on a whisper. Here it was, the distraction. 

“You look exquisite tonight.” He murmurs when his mouth reaches your ear, breath dusting along the shell of your ear. 

“Thank you.” Your voice is embarrassingly breathy but Lando’s fingers digging into your hips says he’s not embarrassed one bit. He didn’t say a word about the lace that was for him, but you know he saw it. “Sorry I’m running behind. Carmen, Lily, and I took longer at the salon today than I anticipated.” 

Lando spins you around, shaking his head when your gaze meets his. “It’s fine, we’re not really all that late. I’m glad you’re getting along with the other girls.” 

You nodded, the corner of your mouth ticking up at the thought of your friends, also girlfriends of F1 drivers, who had really taken you under your wing this season. Being in the public eye like the WAGs tended to be was not for the faint of heart and there had been several times this season where only the girls were able to understand your struggle to adjust to life with Lando. 

The two of you stand there for a moment, taking in the sight of each other. You were able to travel to most of the races so you didn’t often go too long without seeing Lando, but there was something settling about it now being winter break, all work suspended for the time being while everyone decompressed after a hard season. You had made it through, relationship stronger than ever, and the silent conversation that happens while you two reflect on how everything has changed so quickly has your heart fluttering in your chest. 

Lando’s the first to break the spell, forced to drop his attention to his phone that was buzzing quietly. “That’s the car.” He says, sounding almost sad that the two of you will have to leave the comfort of your private cocoon tonight and put on your public faces for the evening. 

Moments later, Lando is helping you into your jacket before twining his fingers with your own. More kisses are dropped on your cheeks and neck as you both scuttle towards the door, the hired car likely double parked in front of your building. You knew Lando would have rather stayed home tonight, not wanting to have to share you or your attention with anyone but you also knew tonight would serve as a good closing chapter on your first year together and for that, you were forever grateful. 

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

jin guangshan and lan qiren yaoi perhaps? since their shapes create a perfect balance?

Two old men perform worlds first successful 96.

[magicandmundane]

Something something Clone Force 99 breaking binders in every season finale

[raining-its-pouring]

A little tired of people saying Moon can’t stand up for herself. Like yeah I think one of the flaws she has is she is too lenient and forgiving, but also in her situation it’s VERY HARD not to be. And it’s very situational, usually manifesting with Five Pebbles.

She stops talking to you if you annoy her enough, and only starts again if you win her back over. You have to put in the work. She isn’t “rolling over” and letting things happen to her, despite the fact that she is in absolutely no position to bargain. As stated by her, her kindness and her words are the ONLY thing she has. So her taking those away from you, the player, is absolutely her standing up for herself.

Everyone brings up how she handles Five Pebbles (esp the comms thing) and it is incredible to me just how many people lay this entirely at her feet when the game states over and over again that even despite Moon’s intentional feather-light influence over him, he still resents her for being his superior. He seeks out a mentor who is her opposite.

He wants to be something more than what he is, wants to be detached from her, and she can’t do anything about that but do the best she can to exert as little influence over him as possible.

She is stuck between a rock and a hard place here, and was betting on her kindness to have fostered enough mutual respect that she wouldn’t have to resort to forced communications. She was wrong. He was driven by fierce desperation, something that she wasn’t privy to. And she paid for it.

Yes, this is a flaw of hers. But it’s not a universal one. (the rest of the iterators look to her for help- she’s the group senior for gods sake- and people act like she can’t take a stand) I genuinely doubt Moon would’ve waited so long to used forced comms if it were happening to anyone else. If it were being committed by anyone else. And that just makes the tragedy even sweeter.

[dennisboobs]

:) i certainly have no issue dressing in drag :)

^guy who has no issue dressing in drag btw

glenn said that dennis' drag name is victoria von hemen btw

(Source)

[randomfandomss]

Vincent Cardinal Benítez in every scene - Part 2/3 | Conclave (2024)

Part 1 , Part 3

[flowercrowngods]

who did this to you. part 3

🤍🌷 read part 1 here | read part 2 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie. now with robin!

The number rings in his head, echoing off the inside of his skull and sinking lower and lower until his heart strings join the symphony that leaves him shaking as the memory of Harrington’s slurred voice is drowned out by the dial tone that feels harrowingly like a flatline right now. 

Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.

Eddie doesn’t really feel like his body belongs to him anymore, or like there’s anything left inside him other than panic and fear and that stupid, stupid shaking that he can’t suppress even as he bites his knuckles. Hard. 

The pain helps a little not to startle too much when the dial tone stops and a female voice begins speaking to him. Still he almost drops the phone, cursing under his breath as he pulls his hair to collect himself and get his voice to work. 

“H— Hi, hello, Mrs Buckley? This is, uh. I. I’m. A friend of Robin’s, could you, uh—“ 

“Oh, of course, dear,” the woman says, and Eddie feels his eyes beginning to prick with how nice she sounds even through the phone. 

Does she know Steve, too? Would she worry if she knew? Would she curse Eddie for not taking him to the hospital right away? Would she blame him if anything happened? 

“I’m sorry? What did you say your name was?” she asks, repeating herself by the sound of it. 

He blanks, for a whole five seconds, before he spots a note stuck to the fridge saying Don’t forget to eat, Eddie :-)

“Eddie,” he croaks. “Uh, Eddie Munson.”

“Alright, Eddie Munson, I’ll see if I can grab Robin for you. You have a good day, dear, yes?” 

No. “Thanks.” 

The hand clenched in his hair pulls tighter and tighter until the tears fall and he can pretend it’s from pain and not from— whatever the fuck is happening. 

He waits, phone pressed to his ear with a kind of desperation he’s never really felt, and never wants to feel again. He doesn’t even know what to tell Robin; what to say. It’s not like they ever hang out or have anything to say to each other, so why would she— 

“Munson?” Robin’s voice appears on the other end, a little too loud for Eddie’s certain state, and he does drop the phone this time, scrambling to catch it and only making the situation worse as it dangles by his knees. 

He drops to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and reaching for the phone again. 

“Hi.” 

“What do you want? How’d you even get this number? I swear, if you—“ 

“It’s Blue. I mean, Steve. Harrington.” 

That shuts her right up, and Eddie clenches his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to keep the tremor out of his voice if only he takes a moment to breathe. 

The moment stretches. And Robin’s voice is wary and quiet when she speaks again. 

“What about Steve.” 

Eddie rubs his face, leaving more dirt and grime to fill the tear tracks, and clenches his fist before his mouth. 

“Eddie,” Robin demands, dangerous now. Nothing left of the rambling, bubbling mess he knows her to be on the school hallways. “What. About. Steve.” 

“He… He’s hurt.” 

There’s a bit of a commotion on the other end, before Robin declares, “I’m coming over. You tell me everything.” 

“You— I mean, he’s in the hospital with my uncle, so—“ 

“I am. Coming. Over,” she says, enunciating every word as though she were making a threat. Maybe she is. But the certainty in her voice helps a little, anchors him the same way that Wayne’s calmness did. “And you tell me everything.” 

Eddie finds himself nodding along, knowing intuitively that there is nothing that could stop her now. Knowing that he doesn’t want to stop her. 

“‘Kay.” It’s a pathetic little sound, all choked up and tiny. She doesn’t comment on it. 

One second he hears her determined exhale, the next she’s hung up on him and Eddie is greeted by the flatline again. He lets out a shuddering breath and leans his head back against the wall. 

Breathing is hard again, but it’s all he has to do now, all that’s left to do, so he focuses. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. His lungs are burning and there’s something wrong about the way he pulls in air and keeps it there, desperately latching onto it until the very last second, his exhales more of a gasping cough than calm and controlled. 

It takes a while. Longer than it should. But with Harrington’s blood still on his hands, with his heartbeat in his ears so loud he can’t even hear the words Wayne used to say about breathing in through the mouth or the nose or… or something, he— 

He’s fine. He’s home. Wayne’s got Blue, and Buckley is on her way, and… He’s fine. 

People don’t just die. 

They don’t. 

He’s fine. 

Eventually, Eddie manages to breathe steadily, the air no longer shuddering and his hands no longer shaking. It’s stupid, really, being so worked up over someone he doesn’t even really know. Sure, everyone knows Steve fucking Harrington, and everyone sees Steve fucking Harrington — whether they want it or not. He has a way of drawing eyes toward him even if all he does is walk the halls with his dorky smile and that stupidly charming swagger he’s got going on. Always matching his shoes to his outfit.

Eddie can relate.

Always reaching out to touch the person he’s talking to; clapping their back or shoulder, lightly shoving them in jest, ruffling their hair or chasing them through the halls, moving and holding himself like teenage angst can’t reach him. Like he belongs wherever he goes. Like he’s so, so comfortable in his own skin. Like the clothes he wears aren’t armour but just a part of him; a means of self-expression. 

Again, Eddie can relate. He can relate to all of this. 

It’s almost like the two of them aren’t so different after all. Just going about it differently. 

And now he’s… Bleeding. Slurring his speech. Wheezing his breath. And Eddie feels protective. Eddie feels responsible. Like he should be there, like he should get to know more about him. About Steve. About Blue. 

But he can’t. And he won’t. So he gets up with a groan that expresses his frustration and the need to make a sound, to fight the oppressive silence that only encourages his thoughts to run in obsessive little circles, and he hangs up the phone that’s been dangling beside him all this time. 

He needs a smoke. 

He needs a smoke and a blunt and a drink and for this day to be over and for time to revert and to leave him out of whatever business he stumbled into by opening the door to the boathouse and, apparently, Steve Harrington’s life. 

But unfortunately, the universe doesn’t seem to care about what he needs, because just as he steps outside and goes to light his cig, he catches sight of a harried looking Robin Buckley, standing on the pedals of her bike as she kicks them, her hair blowing in the wind to reveal a frown between her brows. A wave of unease overcomes Eddie, an unease he can’t really place. Maybe it’s the set of her jaw, or the tension in her shoulders, or maybe it’s the worry and anger she exudes. 

It never occurred to him before that Robin Buckley might not be a person you’d want to set off. And not because of her uncontrollable rambles. 

“Munson!” she calls over, carelessly dropping her bike in the driveway and stalking toward him. 

Almost as if summoning a shield, Eddie does light the cigarette. Pretends like the smoke can protect him. 

She doesn’t stop at the foot of the steps, though, climbs them in two leaps and gets all up in his space with that unwavering look of determination — so unwavering, in fact, that it almost looks like wrath. Cold. Eddie wants to shrink away from it, not at all daring to wonder what could make her look like that upon hearing that Steve’s hurt. 

I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture.

But those are the words of a semi-conscious teenage boy beat to a pulp, they can’t— There’s no way. Eddie misheard him, or Steve was talking about some kind of inside joke, using the wrong terminology with the wrong guy. It happens. It happens when you’re out of it, really! The shit he’s said when he was shot up, canned up, all strung out and high as a kite… He’d be talking of monsters, too, and mean some benign shit. 

But the way Harrington looked, none of that was benign. The bruising all over his face, the blood still dripping from the wound by his temple or his nose, the way he held himself, breath rattling in his lungs, or— 

“Hey!” Buckley demands his attention, giving him a light shove; just enough to catch his attention, really, and just what he needed to snap out of it. Still the smoke hits his lungs wrong and he coughs up a lung, further cementing his role of the pathetic little guy today. 

“Hey,” he says lamely, his voice still croaking as he crushes the half-smoked cigarette under his boot. “Sorry.” He doesn’t know for what. But it feels appropriate. 

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at him as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. 

“Tell me,” she says at last, and even though there is a tremor in her voice, she sounds nothing short of demanding. “I want the whole story, and I want it now.” 

And so he does. He tells her everything, bidding her inside because he needs the relative safety of the trailer even though the air in here is stuffy and still faintly smells blue. He pours them both some coffee and some tea, because asking what she wants doesn’t feel right in the middle of telling her how he found her supposed best friend beat to shit in the boathouse he went to to forget about the world for a while. 

She stills as she listens to him, staring ahead into the middle distance somewhere beneath the floor and the walls, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee. Eddie stumbles over his words a lot, unsettled by her stillness, her lack of reaction. She doesn’t even react to his fuck-ups. People usually do.

He wants to ask. Where are you right now? What have you seen? What’s on your mind? What the fuck is happening?

But he doesn’t ask, instead he tells her more about Steve. About how he seemed to forget where he was. About the pain he was in. About the smiles nonetheless. The way he reassured Eddie. 

That one finally gets a choked little huff from her, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. 

“Yeah, that sounds like him alright. He’s such a dingus.” 

There is so much affection in her voice as she says it that Eddie can’t help but smile into his mug. 

“Dingus?” he asks, hoping for some lightness, hoping to keep it. 

But the light fades, and her eyes get distant again. Eddie wants to kick himself. 

“Just a stupid little nickname. An insult, really.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t know what to do with that. If he should ask more or if he should say that he has a feeling Steve might appreciate stupid little nicknames. Especially if they’re unique. Especially if they’re for him. But what right does he have to say that now? What knowledge does he have about Steve Harrington that Robin doesn’t? 

So he bites his tongue and drinks his coffee, cursing the silence that falls over them as Robin mirrors him, albeit slow and stilted, like she doesn’t know what to do either. Or where to put her limbs. 

“Wayne’s got him now. I took him here, after the boathouse, because I didn’t know what to do. He said he didn’t want the hospital, said there’s…” He trails off. 

Robin looks at him, her eyes wary but alert. “Said there’s what?” 

It’s stupid. Don’t say it. 

“Eddie?” 

With a sigh, he puts his mug on the counter and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “He said there’s monsters. In the hospital, I mean. He said that.”

Instead of scoffing or at least frowning, Robin clenches her jaw and nods imperceptibly, her eyes going distant again. Eddie blinks, the urge to just fucking ask overcoming him again, but with every passing second he realises that he doesn’t actually want to ask. He doesn’t want to know, let alone find out. 

He just… He just wants to go to bed. Forget any of this ever happened. But he can’t do that, so he continues. 

“Brought him here and Wayne took one look at him and convinced him he needed a doctor. And, Jesus H Christ, he was right. I’ve never… I mean, those things don’t happen,” he urges, balling his hands into fists even in the confined space of his pockets. “Right? I mean… Shit, man.” He bumps his shoe into the kitchen counter; gently, so as not to startle Buckley out of her fugue like state. 

“You’d be surprised,” she rasps, staring into the middle distance again and slowly sinking to the floor. There is a tremor in her shoulders now, barely noticeable, but Eddie knows where to look. Without really thinking about it, he grabs two of his hoodies he’d haphazardly thrown over the kitchen chairs this morning while deciding on his outfit and realising that it was altogether too warm for long sleeves today. But now, right here in this kitchen, the air tinged with blue, they’re both freezing. 

Because fear and worry will take all the warmth right from inside of you and leave you freezing even on the hottest day of the year. 

She barely looks at him when he holds out his all-black Iron Maiden hoodie to her, freshly washed and all that, but she takes it nonetheless, immediately pulling it on. It’s way too large on her, her hands not showing through the sleeves, her balled fists safe and warm inside the fabric. It would make him smile if only it didn’t highlight her stillness, her faraway stare, and the years he has on her. She’s, what, two years younger than him? Three? 

It seems surreal. Everything, everything does. 

Robin Buckley in his home, sitting on his kitchen floor, swallowed by a hoodie that is a size too large even for him, but it was the last one they had in the store and he doesn’t mind oversized clothes, can just cut them shorter when the need arises or layer them or declare them comfort sweaters for when he wants to just have his hands not slip through the sleeves on some days. And now Robin is wearing his comfort hoodie because her best friend was bleeding in his car earlier and then on his couch and now in his uncle’s car, and they never even talk, but he knows that Robin’s favourite colour is blue, but not morning hour blue because that makes her sad; only deep, dark blues. 

Her favourite colour. Her favourite person. 

It’s so fucking surreal. 

He drops down beside her, leaving enough space between them so neither of them feels caged, and mirrors her position: knees to his chest, chin on his forearms. Staring ahead. 

And silence reigns. 

“Your uncle,” she says at last, finally breaking the silence that’s been grating on Eddie’s nerves and looking at him, really looking as she rests her cheek on her forearms crossed over her knees. “Tell me about him.” 

There is a gentleness to her voice now despite how hoarse it is. Maybe she’s just tired, too. And scared. At least the shivering has stopped. 

Still Eddie frowns, confused as to why she should be breaking the silence to ask about Wayne when everything today has been about Harrington. About Steve. About deep and dark blues. 

“Uncle Wayne?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because,” she begins, and sighs deeply, works to get the air back in her lungs. Eddie wants to reach out, but instead he just clenches his fingers a little deeper into the fabric of his hoodie. “My best friend is hurt very badly and the only person with him is your uncle, and I need to know that he’s in good hands. Or I swear to whatever god you may or may not believe in, and granted, it’s probably the latter, but still I swear I’ll give into my arsonist tendencies and burn down this city, starting with your trailer if you don’t tell me that your uncle is a good man who will do anything in his power to make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs. And deserves.” 

Her jaw is set and her bottom lip trembles, but it doesn’t take away from the absolute sincerity in her threat. 

“So, please,” she continues, her voice breaking just a little bit. “Tell me. Tell me about your uncle.” 

Tell me about your favourite person. 

Eddie swallows, and mirrors her position once more, so she can see his eyes and know he’s sincere. Because he’s learned something about eyes today, about how much in the world can change if only you have a pair of eyes to look into. 

And he nods, looking for somewhere to start. “He’s the best man I know. He’s the best man you’ll ever meet.”

She clings to his eyes. Searches them for the truth, beseeching them not to lie. He lets her. 

“Took me in when I was ten, because my dad’s a fuck-up and my mom’s a goner. Took me in again when I was twelve after I ran away. Makes me breakfast and I pretends the dinner I make him is more than edible.” He smiles a little, because how could he not? “He’s my uncle, but still he’s the best parent anyone could wish for. Writes those little notes that he sticks to the fridge, y’know, the one with the smiley face? Tells me to eat, because I forget sometimes. I tell him to drink water, because he forgets. First few years, he’d read to me. And the man’s a shit reader, has some kind of disability I think, and at some point I learned that he wasn’t reading at all. He was telling me stories all the time, conning me into thinking that the books were magic, and that every time I’d try to read the book for myself, the story would change.” 

There’s a lump in his throat now, and his eyes sting again. But Robin doesn’t seem to fare any better than him if her wavering smile is any indication. 

“There’s no one,” Eddie continues, “who will make you believe in magic quite like uncle Wayne. Or in good things. And d’you wanna know what he told Blue when he said he was scared of going to the hospital?” 

Sniffling, Robin shakes her head. 

“He said, Okay. Then we do it scared. And all of that after he just… with that patience he has, told him everything that was gonna happen. And that he’d be there with him through it all. That he knew the doc and wouldn’t let anyone else near him, and that there’s no need to be scared at all.” 

He sighs, breathes, stills. Swallows, before looking back at Robin. 

“So, if there’s one person who’ll make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs and deserves…” 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Robin finishes his sentence, her voice still hoarse, but Eddie likes to think it’s for a different reason now. 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, nodding along as he does. 

There is something like understanding in Robin’s eyes now, and Eddie hopes it’s enough. Enough to calm the spiking of her nerves, enough to settle the coil of freezing nausea that must reside in the pit of her stomach, enough to let the next breath she takes feel a little more like it’s supposed to be there. 

He wants to say something more, wants to reach out and reassure her that everything will be okay, but he can’t know that. He doesn’t feel like it’s entirely true, let alone appropriate right now. 

There’s something in Robin’s eyes, in the way she holds herself, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she accepts his words at face value but doesn’t really believe them. Like she’ll only rest when she’s got her best friend back in her arms and hears the story — the whole story — from him. 

And Eddie doesn’t fault her, because the thing is, he doesn’t know what happened. Steve said that Hagan came at him, but that’s really all he got out of him before he started talking about death and shit, and Eddie really didn’t want to ask any more questions then. 

So they sit there for a while, the silence oppressive and unwelcome, clumsy and awkward; Robin’s mouth opening and closing a lot, like she wants to ask questions but doesn’t dare to ask them — and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s glad about it or not. Doesn’t know if he wants to hear the kind of questions asked with that kind of stare. 

It is only after a long while, when Robin’s shoulders start shaking again and she buries deeper into the hoodie and her own spiralling thoughts, that Eddie breaks the silence again, replaying in his head the last moment between him and Steve. 

“He’s not gonna break,” he tells her, aiming for gentle and reassuring. 

What he doesn’t expect is the minute flinch, the jolt shooting through her body and the pained expression it leaves her with. What he doesn’t expect is what she says next. 

“You know,” she begins, her voice as far away as her eyes, and it’s like she doesn’t even know she’s speaking. “Sometimes I wish he would.” 

What?

Eddie blinks, swallowing hard.

“Just for, just for a break. Just so he can rest. Let the rest take over for a while.” 

That… He doesn’t— What the hell does that even mean? 

“Like maybe then the world would… snap back.” She snaps her fingers, just once. This time it’s Eddie who flinches. “And everything bad would disappear. But it won’t. And he won’t.” She swallows. Then quietly, almost inaudible, “He won’t break.” 

And the way she says it… It was reassuring before. And now it feels like a burden. A curse. 

Who the fuck are you, Steve Harrington? And you, Robin Buckley. 

Eddie shudders, knowing he doesn’t want the answer to that anymore. He doesn’t want the questions either. So he buries his face in his hands, closes his eyes, and breathes. The adrenaline has worn off by now, the repeated panicking that added fuse to the fire has ceased now, leaving him worn out and strung out, tired and exhausted. He pulls up the hood, burrowing into the warmth. 

And then he stills. His usually twitching, fumbling, fiddling body falling entirely still beside Buckley. 

It’s like time stops for a while there, even though Eddie knows that it’s dragging ever on and on. He’s inclined to let it, though. He’s too tired, too exhausted to really care about what time may or may not be doing. 

“Why’d you call me?” 

It takes a while for Eddie to realise that Robin’s spoken again, asked him a question out loud, the cadence of it different to the endless circles of questions Eddie’s got stuck in his head since the early afternoon tinged in blue against crimson. 

He lifts his head, tucking his hands underneath his chin, and looks over at Buckley. Her hair is dishevelled now, her mascara smudged and crusty. Her lipstick is almost all gone, with the way he sees her biting and chewing on her lips. 

“I… It seemed like the right thing to do, y’know? He kept repeating your number. In the car, it was like… Sounds dramatic, but it was like his lifeline, almost. Repeated it so often it kinda got stuck.” He shrugs. “Seemed important, too.”

Robin frowns; a careful little thing. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Well, he just talked about you. Y’know. Tell me about your favourite person, I told him, because that’s the thing you gotta do to keep people, like, talking to you. Not shit about what day it is, or what. Just, y’know. Let them talk about things they like. Things they’ll wanna tell you about. ’N’ he talked about you.” 

She’s quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. And Eddie wonders if she knew. That she’s his favourite person. If he ever told her. If maybe he took that from him now. It’s a stupid thing to worry about, really; the boy was bloodied and bruised on his couch just an hour ago, there are worse things at hand for Eddie to worry about. But now he wonders if he just spilled some sort of secret. Some sort of love confession. 

“Did you, I mean… Are you guys, like, dating? Did I just steal his moment?” 

Robin huffs, but it’s more like a smile that needs a little more space in the room, a little more air to really bloom. It’s fond. She shakes her head, her eyes far away again, but closer somehow. 

“Nah,” she says, and the smile is in her voice, too. Eddie kind of likes her voice like that. “We’re platonic. Which is something I’d never thought I’d say. Not about Steve Harrington, y’know?” 

And the way she drags out his name… Eddie can relate. Like it means something, but like what it means is nowhere close to reality. Nowhere close to what it really means. Nowhere close to Blue. 

Robin sighs, the sound more gentle than it should be, and leans her head against the cabinet behind her. “We worked together over summer break. Scoops Ahoy.” Her voice does a funny thing, and her eyes glaze over as she pauses. Eddie waits, his lips tipped up into a little smile, too; to match hers. 

“What, the ice cream parlour?” 

Robin hums, her smile widening at what Eddie guesses must be memories of chaos and ridiculousness. “I wanted to hate him,” she continues. “But try as I might, he wouldn’t let me. Or, he did. He did let me. Just, it turns out, there’s no use hating Steve Harrington, not when he’s so… So endlessly genuine. There’s nothing to hate, y’know? And then he…” 

She stops, her mouth clicking shut as her eyes tear up a little. The Starcourt fire. Eddie remembers the news, remembers the self-satisfied smirk when he’d heard about it, remembers sticking it to the Man and to capitalism and to the idea of malls over supporting your friendly neighbourhood businesses. 

Guilt and shame overcome him as he realises that they must have been in there when it happened. 

“He saved your life?” 

Robin’s eyes snap toward him, wide and caught, and Eddie raises his hands in placation. 

“In the fire? Were you there?” 

“Y—yeah.” She swallows hard, avoiding his eyes. “The fire. He saved me. Yeah.” 

Eddie nods, deciding to drop that topic right there; to lay it on the ground as gently as he can and cover it with bright red colours so he never steps on it ever again. 

“He must be your favourite person, too, then, hm?” he steers the conversation back away into safer waters. 

“He is,” she says, sure and genuine and true. “It’s just. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favourite. He has a lot of people who care about him, you know? A lot of people he cares about. Even more numbers memorised in that stupidly smart head of his.” She huffs again, burrowing deeper into Eddie’s hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands some more. “It’s stupid, to be so hung up on this. Is it stupid?” 

“I don’t think it is,” Eddie says, scooting a little closer to Robin. “Like, I don’t even know that boy, right? But even I know that he’s got some ways to shift your focus or something. Give you a silver lining, or something to take the pain away even when he’s the one who… I don’t know, that’s probably stupid, too.” 

“Nah,” Robin says, scooting closer to him, too, until their sides are pressed together and she can lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s not stupid. You’re right; that’s Steve for you. ’S just who he is.” 

It is, isn’t it? 

You’re so blue, Stevie. 

She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.

Blue. ‘S nice. 

Yeah. Yeah, he is. 

Eddie lets his thoughts roam the endless possibilities and realities that is Steve Harrington, the depths he hides — or won’t hide, maybe, if you know how to ask. Where to look. 

Maybe he’ll find out, one of these days. Not about the terrible things that leave him scared of the hospital, not about the horrible things that have him speaking of death and dying like he’s accepted them as a possibility a long time ago. 

He swallows hard and shakes off these thoughts, because things like that just. They don’t happen. They don’t happen to blue-smiled boys who trust you to be kind even when they’re beaten straight to hell. And they sure as hell don’t happen when uncle Wayne’s around. 

Nothing bad has ever happened when uncle Wayne was around. 

And he wants to tell Robin, wants to make that promise. But part of him can’t bear the thought of being wrong. So he keeps his mouth shut and just sits with her, their heads as heavy as their hearts as they wait. 

The sun is long gone when the phone above him rings again, spooking and startling them out of their timeless existence. 

“Yeah?” he answers, his heart hammering in his chest. “Wayne?” 

“Hey, Ed,” Wayne’s voice comes through the phone like a melody. Calm and steady. Robin is scooting closer, and Eddie shifts the phone to accommodate her so they can both listen. Somehow, they ended up holding hands — and holding on hard. “We’re coming home now.” 

🤍🌷 tagging:

@theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 @annabanannabeth @deany-baby @mc-i-r @mugloversonly @viridianphtalo @nightmareglitter @jamieweasley13 @copingmechanizm @marklee-blackmore @sirsnacksalot @justrandomfandomstm @hairdryerducks @silenzioperso @newtstabber @fantrash @zaddipax @cometsandstardust @rowanshadow26 @limpingpenguin @finntheehumaneater @extra-transitional (sorry if i missed anyone! lmk if you don't wanna be tagged for part 4 🫶)