#to make it look like ur saying as many things u can fit into one tag. Idk the mental image is funny to me XD

[chlorinecake]

am in love w ur work<3 can u do an enha x reader ff, where they're dating a very feminine y/n who's also insecure? yk like them comforting y/n etc etc?

「 𓍯𓂃 A 𝒢UIDE TO OVERCOMING YOUR INSECURITIES 」

──── 🪽 𓂃 𓈒 step one: date 1 / 7 members of 엔하이픈

🪞 ( . . path to bookshelf ◍ ) ���� be the best version of you .ᐟ g𝓮nre. fluff, comfort, est. dating, fem.r ﹙ 🧺 . . . ﹚. 美しさ skinship & kisses 350 𝒘𝗈𝗋𝖽s each ✩ ✩ ✩

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 for my melanated queens; “God, I look terrible in this picture,” you sighed miserably at the couple photo before you, zooming in closer on your screen to get a better look. “I'm literally lost in the background…”

“Let me see,” your boyfriend offered, bracing himself behind you as he peered over your shoulder. “Baby… you look beautiful here, what’re you talking about?” He practically chuckled, somewhat humored that you thought the picture was bad when it was clearly fine.

“I’m talking about my complexion,” you sighed, shutting off your phone out of frustration, “Maybe we should only go on dates when it’s sunny outside so I don’t look like a shadow next to you by time we take a picture…” That's when Heeseung felt his heart drop at your words, pouty lips partingas he asked, “Why would you say such a thing, ____? I love how healthy your complexion looks…”

“I know, but—”

“No buts,” he interrupted, walking from behind you and guiding your chin towards his. “Did someone say something to make you feel this way, love?” You struggled to meet his sincere doe eyes as your own weak ones were on the verge of tears.

With a crack in your voice, you finally spoke, “No, Heeseung… I’ve always felt this way, I just never said anything til now…”

“And are those insecurities motivated by your own standards or by what society has poisoned you to believe?”

You got quiet at his question, knowing deep down that you never had an issue with your skin color and that it was something the world had made you feel...

“Look at your beautiful hands in mine,” he continued, shattering your inner thoughts as he drew your attention to his hands holding yours. “Please don’t think your skin color is something we need to work around… especially not for a silly picture…”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling your stomach flutter as he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a loving kiss to your wrist. “So,” you started in a soft voice, his gentle eyes looking back up at you, “can I at least delete the picture then?”

“Fine,” Heeseung smiled through a complying breath, wiping the moisture from the corner of your eye with his thumb, “but only because I’m planning a date for us to take more photos later…”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 for the frequent bad hair days; “Gosh, this is why I need to go bald one day,” you sulked, tossing your hairbrush to the ground in a fit of exhaustion, “otherwise, I'll never be able to make my hair look right...”

“It looks pretty to me, baby,” Jay smiled upon meeting you in the bathroom, the frustrated clatter of your hair products having caught his attention. “What style are you going for anyways?” Your boyfriend hugged you from behind, placing a tender kiss to the crown of your head.

Reaching for your phone that sat on the bathroom vanity, you showed it to Jay. “Here’s the reference picture,” you sighed, feeling yourself calm down slightly as he held you in his arms, “I just have so many fly-aways today that the gel won’t even hold them in place...”

Jay's eyes scanned your reflection in the mirror, comparing it back and forth to the reference photo, “Easy fix, princess. We’ll just have to buy better products.”

“But it’s not just that… my split ends—”

“Then I’ll schedule you an appointment at the salon today…”

Your shoulders fell at your boyfriend's words. You knew he was only trying to make things better, but you still felt insecure. “Hey, look at me ____,” he whispered, voice light as a feather as he caressed your side, “my girl always deserves the best... especially if it’ll make her feel better about herself… got it?”

A smile spread across your face as Jay's fingers playfully tickled your waist.

In reality, no, you couldn’t get your hair right every time, but the hair you had suited you best, and simply required a little more tender love and care…

“Sooo, no salon date today?” He asked, watching your features.

You scoffed at his question, “No, we’re definitely still going… I’ll just make sure to embrace my natural hair this time.”

“And as you should, baby,” Jay smirked, kissing you one last time before his hands left your side, “I’ll go get the car keys...”

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 for the curvy girls; “Whatchya lookin' for?” Jake asked from the bed, watching as you searched through your shared drawers for anything big enough to swamp your entire body. “I’m too big for all of my clothes now, so I need to find something that's large but still cute...”

“Oh...” your boyfriend's voice trailed off as he got out of bed to meet you on the floor. “That’s why I always let you wear my hoodies, baby. Here,” he offered, pulling the white hoodie over his head and revealing a bit of his toned stomach before he shimmyied the oversized hoodie over your head. “So... can I cuddle with my adorable girlfriend all day like we planned now?”

You blushed slightly at his compliment, taking Jake's hand in yours as he helped you up from the ground, “Yes, but only if you promise not to put your hands on my stomach like you usually do...”

His eyes widened at your odd request, “I thought you liked it when I cuddled your tummy?”

He pulled you against his chest, but the physical contact only made you squirm with discomfort, “Please don’t call it that, baby…” The words left your mouth with such pain, his heart sinking at the sad look that washed over your features…

“I don’t get it ____, what’s going on?” Your boyfriend pressed with concern, releasing you from his hold to simply hold your hands.

“It's not like you'd understand where I’m coming from anyways...”

He frowned at your words, just as you watched with weak eyes while he pulled out a top from your drawer, holding it before your eyes. “You see this? You’re not too big for your clothes, but your clothes are too small for you…”

“Yea, but I used to be able to fit all of those…” You sulked in defense.

“And your body is just going through a normal change and has granted you with gorgeous curves… all we have to do now is accommodate for them..”

You thought on his words for a moment, a feeling of guilt washing over you after you realized you'd snapped on him earlier when he was only trying to help.

He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead, pulling you back into his warmth before whispering, “Please, be more kind to your body, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded with a sniffle, tightening your arms around him.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 for the giggles often hidden behind one’s palm; You and Sunghoon were sitting on the couch in your shared apartment living room, legs intertwined in a string of flesh like always as and it was your turn to laugh when your boyfriend retold one of the craziest stories from his prior days as an Italian restaurant waiter.

“And the guy had such a nerve to order 150 bucks worth of steak to then leave a measly fifty cent tip…” his voice trailed off, smiling to himself as he watched you struggle to maintain your laughter, a shy hand flying to cover your mouth.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said while giggling, cheeks hurting a bit from trying to hold back your emotions, “you can continue…”

He looked at you with confusion, his thick, dark brows screwing in the center of his face, “Wait… why’re you apologizing for laughing, baby?”

“Oh…I…” you started, startled by his question, “I guess… I just don’t like hearing my laugh sometimes?… plus it makes my face scrunch up and look all weird when I smile…”

“Stop, your laugh is gorgeous and so is your smile, what’re you talking about?” He scoffed, leaning back against the arm of the couch and crossing his arms.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend,” you sighed, untangling your legs from his and bring your knees to your chest.

“Sure, but that’s only part of the reason,” Sunghoon corrected, readjusting himself on the couch so he could be closer to you as he spoke, “it’s true, y’know?” He said before tickling your ankle, making you smile once again, “I bet that makes you feel better already, doesn’t it?”

You looked down before meeting his sincere gaze, feeling your heart flutter in your chest as he squished your face together with his hand.

“Yes… it does,” you giggled through the pouty lips his fingers forced you to make, making him chuckle a bit to himself before leaning in to peck your forehead first, then your nose, before finally, your lips…

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 for the spots makeup can't conceal; “Ugh,” you groaned with frustration, letting out a sigh as you aggressively wiped at your face with a makeup wipe, “this foundation is supposed to be full coverage!... God, now I'm gonna have to leave the house looking like a complete troll...”

“Excuse me?” Sunoo asked from beside you while adjusting his tie, a glint of amusement in his hazel eyes despite the concerned nature of his voice.

“I don't mean to be dramatic, but I swear the mirror hates me...” You exclaimed, tossing the dirty makeup wipe in the trash can while internally dreading the fact that you were having a terrible hormonal breakout today.

Sunoo's delicate hands left his neck tie to grab the package of wipes and pull out a few for you.

“The mirror has no feelings, sweetie... only you do,” your boyfriend chuckled at the pouty look on your face, guiding your head upward as he gently wiped away the remaining smears of makeup from your skin.

“Besides, you don't need to wear all this stuff anyway,” he whispered this time, the most loving look in his eyes as he caressed your cheek, “you're naturally gorgeous to me...”

He let his thumb graze over your lower lip before leaning down a little further from where he stood, pressing a tender kiss to your plush lips.

“You're lucky you didn't turn into a frog after doing that,” you giggled, playfully smacking his shoulder as you both noticed the pink hue rising to your cheeks... a hue that would've otherwise been covered by makeup.

Smiling at your words, he handed you a bar of soap and a towel, “I'm glad we don't have time for you to contour or conceal anything, so lets get the rest of this stuff off your face so we don't end up late for our date...”

You took the soap in your palms, lathering it together under the running faucet water as a new feeling arose in your chest upon looking at yourself in the mirror. No, you didn't have perfect skin, but you were still beautiful and loved, which in this moment, was all that mattered.

“Thank you, Sunny,” you said, massaging the soap into your face as he walked away from you, “I'll be out in a minute...”

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 for the hairy girls; “Shit,” you cursed under your breath while rummaging through your things. “What’s wrong, baby?” Jungwon asked, approaching you from behind with a smile on his face.

“I can’t find my razor,” you stated plainly, not even meeting his eyes as you closed the suitcase you were just searching... “Oh,” he started, cat-like eyes rounding slightly, “you can always use my razor if you want to for now then…”

“Please, I’d need like three of your razors to shave my arms properly,” you huffed, stepping out of the closet and walking toward the window, “why’d I have to be born like this?”

“Baby… don’t say that, body hair is completely normal…”

You caught a glimpse of your unibrow in the bedroom window, turning away with frustration as your sad eyes met his, “So then why doesn’t it feel normal?”

“Because, sweetie… you haven’t embraced it yet,” he continued, taking your hands in his before drawing a feather-light line from your wrist to your elbow, “your arms look fine, okay? And if anyone doesn’t agree with that, they can take it up with my taekwondo skills…”

You smiled cheekily at his words, “So… I guess that means I’m getting kicked first then, right?”

“Never,” he chuckled, pulling you closer to him, “but… I’ll be more than willing to give you a lil kissy kiss instead…”

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you felt Jungwon snuggle his face into the crook of your neck, peppering kiss after kiss along the exposed skin. ��Yang Jungwon, I command you to stop this madness right now!” You giggled playfully, stomach already hurting a bit from how much his tickly lips made you laugh…

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 for humble members of the itty bitty titty committee; It was just like any other ordinary night you'd spend with Riki. You two were cuddled up on the couch, sharing a bag of snacks as you browsed through the anime section on Netflix. Y’all had already binge watched just about every single series worth your time, but now, you found yourselves watching any and every trailer in search for your next big obsession.

You watched as your boyfriend flipped through the anime section with the remote in his hand, nothing but ample bosomed female characters flashing before your eyes.

Yes, those sorts of visuals were completely normal in anime, and yes, you and Niki usually loved simping over the provocatively animated characters together...

However, this time when he got to talking, it only made you feel insecure about yourself as you stared down at your own seemingly feeble chest, a tiny pout rising to your face.

“Riki,” you asked shyly while the trailer kept playing, “do you think my boobs are too small?”

He almost immediately whipped his head to face you, “What?”

“N-nothing…” you lied, looking back at the TV as if nothing happened.

That's when your boyfriend paused the show, “No, you definitely said something, ____,” he corrected, putting the remote down and letting his hand find your knee to comfort you.

You let out a sigh, resting your hand over his while looking into his eyes this time, “Would you like me better if I had bigger boobs?… be honest…”

“You're asking me this because of all the busty anime chicks we just saw, aren't you?” he asked back, which only made you sulk even more.

“I know, it's stupid but-”

“No, it's a normal feeling to have, ____... but trust me, your chest is the perfect size, babe... they're like... dainty little cherries, y’know?...”

Even though you knew he was only trying to cheer you up, you couldn’t help but side eye him in his moment. “Wowww, how romantic of you, Nishimura,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

“Whatever, I know you like it when I compare you to foods... especially when I call you jellybean,” he smiled, right before smothering your cheek with the biggest kiss he could muster as you giggled beneath him, knowing that somewhere deep down in your heart, he was 100% right...

tysm for reading this quick lil fic !! ✗⚬ﾒ𝟶 a/n ℓօⓥe always ⋆⋆⋆ and feel free to check out my masterlist for more !!

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @nikisdubblchococake @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @addictedtohobi @microwvdstrawb3rri3s

[bright-side-of-the-moon]

MY MAN reblogging here bc its where ch.1 is YOU CANT LEGALLY KEEP DOING THIS TO ME

fantastic work. you have indeed captivated an audience: all 3 of my braincells XD

Chiron inching towards (stereo)typical centaur behavious is WILD and not at all terrifying. i wonder if hilal- as his intern- would notice it first/ fall first victim to dark shenanigans & what she would do about it (God knows she has enough on her plate without two unhinged immortals to deal with lol)

the claiming sequence? straight fire. absolute masterpiece. the imagery was so good omg. i love the combination of the pomegranate and cerebrus, signifying the underworld in general and not just child of either hades or persephone but both and also a secret third option.

which brings me to this point: Jacks is a legacy of erebus no? wouldnt primordial gods have their own unique sign or do they just use an umbrella claiming thingy for efficiency? In this case the underworld represented by hades and seph

slightly insane will we love to see it. did someone poison the water supply? whats going on im dying to know

poor leo with the bad timing lol. darn rootin tootin has no right being this funny. what ice cream flavours did he pick?

once again im impressed by the originality of and just how far camps resident trouble makers are willing to go to pull elaborate pranks and schemes on each other. If anyone tries anything on cabin 13 or its members hilal promised shed personally feed them to cerebrus :)

The "is this random tissue in my pocket probably from 1953 clean?" dilemma is so real lol

Nico head bonks give me life.

everyone say thank u to the mind gremlins for the installment. looking forward to more! good luck at school and take care >:D

Hey? Wassup?

You know what would be cool?

Chapter two of the Demigod With Many Names >:]

Chapter 2:

I WATCH A DOG EAT A POMEGRANATE

I don't usually cry (which is a lie). But when I did, I accidentally envelope my entire surroundings in a five foot radius of pure darkness (courtesy of my literal, primordial grandpa, Erebus).

'Jacks... are you okay? You've been crying for a good ten minutes,' My wonderful -but terrible at consoling people- boyfriend from the Demeter cabin, Tyler said softly. 'Lou Ellen, and Connor are starting to get worried...' He said as he poked the edge of the darkness.

I created a small window in the Crying Void, patent pending, so I can look at him. 'Why aren't they hanging out with Will?- Or Nico. Whichever. Take a pick.'

'Funny you say that actually.' He said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

I poke my head through the hole and look around the Demeter cabin. Sure enough, Nico, Lou Ellen, Connor, and Tyler are standing around me. Nico was playing with the shadows -which, of course he was- while Tyler was trying to hide Connor and Lou Ellen's current argument.

'No! I'm not disguising you in the Mist so that way you can trick the Poseidon cabin into thinking a Siren broke in.' Lou Ellen said sternly.

'Come on! It'll be fun! Think about it, Percy's gonna freak out, then he's gonna be all super soaker mode and stuff!' Connor pleaded on the floor, slowly crawling to Lou Ellen's leg and grabbing onto it. 'Ple-e-e-e-ase?'

Nico hits him on the head. 'Enough Connor. Stop messing around. We're here for Jacks, remember?'

'Fine!' Connor sighs, holding the spot where Nico bonked him. 'But this isn't over "Louie." And you didn't need to hit me on the head so hard! For a scrawny, emo boy, you're freakishly strong.'

'Thank you.'

'That wasn't a compliment.'

Nico shrugs.

'Ahem!?' Tyler cleared his throat loudly to get their attention. 'Focusing on the wrong emo!'

'Rude,' I add in. 'But not far off. Nice job, honey.'

'Thank you.'

I sniffled, wiping my eyes and my nose with a tissue I had in my pocket. Why did I have a tissue in my pocket? Not sure. When did I get it? Again, not sure. Was it clean and unused? Surprisingly yes.

'Anyways. What are you three doing here?' I wasn't sure how I said it, but it was probably harsher than I meant it to be. 'I get Tyler being here, but not you guys.'

'Well..." Connor started.

'We heard you got suspended for not being able to deal with a patient that wasn't there,' Nico continued for him. 'I'm not entirely sure why Will would do that though...'

'He's a cool guy and all, but he's been acting strange recently.' Lou Ellen added.

'All the immortals, and some of the Half-Bloods are also acting strange.' Tyler said worriedly. 'Especially Chiron and Mr. D.'

My heart dropped, and skipped a worried beat. The shadows around me faltered, turning into a dark mist and falling to the top of my knee, not coming back up. Nico raised and eyebrow, but I think he decided not to comment on it. 'What do you mean?' I finally managed.

'Well, Chiron has been showing more... Romanic centaur behavior.' Nico replied quickly. As much as the kid (we're technically the same age) freaked me out, he was surprisingly chill. Probably because he mostly didn't care most situations, or because he wasn't sure what to do in most situations. Either way, I'm not inviting him to my funeral if I die.

'Meaning he's becoming a ruthless killing machine and eats meat?' I asked, condescending in tone.

'Shut up.' Nico glared at me, which wasn't very fun. 'But technically yes. He's becoming more erratic, sending untrained kids on extremely dangerous quests. More and more kids are disappearing due to the Harpies-'

'Wait- What?!-'

'Not important,' Nico continued as he started fidgeting with his skull ring, pacing back and forth as the plants around him started dying and took on a more brownish color. 'What's important is what's happening to Mr. D.'

'Well what's happening to Mr. D?' I asked with my hand raised.

'I will tell you how long it will be until you die. Then make it much shorter,' He threatened me calmly. 'Sorry, I didn't mean that... entirely. Just stop interrupting me.'

I put my hand down slowly.

'Anyways,' He continued. 'Mr. D has gone completely off the rails. He's turning kids into animals, mostly dolphins. He's created a camp wide mania surge that's making almost everyone paranoid and on the verge of doing a literal killer mosh pit, all while sending shipments, upon shipments of leopards and releasing them into the forest.'

'Courtesy of the amazing, wonderful Amazon workers,' Connor added, followed to a swift, loud slap to the back of the head by Lou Ellen.

'That's for calling me "Louie", dill hole.' She sneered.

I'm not sure if it was payback for earlier, and she found the perfect time to do ot, or it just registered Connor called her Louie.

'Anyways,' I say while scooting away from Connor and Lou Ellen. 'What should I do about it? There's no way I can help a missing camper, let alone a god and a horse person.'

Nico shifted uncomfortably. 'How about something smaller... Like... Will?' He said in a small voice.

I rolled my eyes, feeling my anger that I subsided for Will slowly rising up as Nico suggested that. 'And why should I?! Will fired me, took away my license, and kicked me out of my own cabin!' My eyes stung. I could feel the tears start to come up again. The shadows at my knees began to stir, becoming spikey waves in a sea of shadows. 'He was my brother! The first person I knew that would understand that I came from a different time, and would need guidance.'

Nico reached out towards me, stepping into the shadows and grabbing my arm. 'Jacks, you know what I-' He winced and pulled away, noticing my eyes were glowing. Their usual two-toned light orange and brown, replaced by a soft, glowing neon green. He got distracted by my eyes that he forgot my skin was literally ice cold to the touch.

You know when you wet your fingers and touch an ice cube you just pulled out of the freezer, and it freezes the liquid on you hand and sticks to your skin? If you haven't, try it, and come back to this chapter. Anyways, that's what it reminded Nico of.

The floor cracked open, and a hand sprung out from the ground. Not even I was expecting that. The shadows sunk into the ground, making the green glow coming from it to dim down. My eyes stopped glowing.

Unfortunately, though, the now golden glowing image of a Lyre above my head, didn't. The zombie kept crawling out of the ground, as the strings to the lyre broke. The lyre broke, the wood turning back into tree. An image of a pomegranate falls from one of the branches, hitting the "ground." A three headed dog eats the pomegranate, sitting down like a guard dog would.

Nico's eyes widen, his whole body faltering. 'You- How-' He takes a few steps back, tripping over the zombie and almost falling into the hole in the floor. Luckily, Tyler managed to make a flower with Lou Ellen making the flower as big and strong as possible using magic, and Connor bending it down so Nico could land safely on it.

'Jacks...' Nico said after complete silence. 'You just got reclaimed by- by-' He stuttered.

'Hades...' I finish his sentence.

A knock is heard on the door, and we all look over. Leo walks in holding two cartons of ice cream and two spoons. 'Hey Jacks, I heard you got fi-' Leo drops the ice cream on the ground as he looks around the cabin in shock, finally noticing what happened. 'Sorry, is this a bad time?'

'Really Leo?' The five of us say in unison. 'Does it look like a bad time?'

Leo looks at the glowing image of Cerberus above my head. 'There's a story here... not sure if I wanna know it, but darn rootin' tootin' I'm staying for it.' He says with a big grin.

And thus ends Chapter 2.

I really hope you guys like it, these are always so fun to make, and I get to deal with my mind gremlins that bug me all the time 'bout this stuff

@kindred-spirit-93

[huellitaa]

why people don't like you ₊˚⊹ 💬🎀

okay this is not as harsh as the title suggests but i wanted to put it literally bcuz this is a problem i've struggled with for the longest time. im gonna be brutally honest here. there are so many reasons why ur not of the social status you want to be or don't have as many friends as you like yadda yadda yadda. SO ,, here's my thoughts on why that's the case , and how to help! 🫶🏻🎀💬

──★ ˙ ̟🎀you're fake

whether its cuz ur trying to "fit in" or because you have a completely different personality stored in the back for everyone you meet, ur fake. its very simple. its not necessarily a bad thing, it just means ur insecure.

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ how do you deal with this?

stop trying so hard girl. it's not that deep. there are 8 billion people on this earth and counting, u really think this person's gonna matter when ur living ur dreams and thriving even more than you ever imagined you could? no. move on. next please!

find out who the fuck you genuinely are. you're never gonna live your life if YOU aren't the one living it. once you get a start on finding who YOU are it's gonna make you more authentic -> more magnetic -> more attractive in every single way, including social.

u arent obligated to fit in. think about the type of people that you see in the street and you stare a while at, the type of people who stand out from a crowd for whatever reason, the people u look up to, ur idols who you could never imagine to meet in a thousand years; do you think they fit in? do you think merging with a crowd is what made them appeal to you so much? no. think abt that.

wake the fuck up and realise u deserve better. why are you neglecting yourself by hiding yourself from the world? would u do that to anyone else? would u get anyone else to change themselves just so they can fit in? girl get a hold of urself!!! you've been through so much and youve made it so far and yet you're still pretending to be someone you aren't?? you deserve SO much better. people who truly deserve you will always love you for you, no one else.

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 ur too awkward / anxious

i want to preface this by saying theres nothing wrong w this at all and i completely understand but ur gonna face some problems of people interacting with you. or you interacting w them. or both. i was diagnosed w generalised anxiety disorder when i was 11, so i understand how much this can impact ur life not just socially but in all areas.

⭐𓂃 ࣪˖ how do you deal with this?

first thing im gonna mention to preface is this can be a symptom of an underlying condition u may need to get checked out. if its impacting ur everyday life please seek therapy, i am not a professional and cannot help u w this, even if i'd like to. i love u ♡

find what is making u anxious. what about social interaction is scary to you, and why? why does interacting w others make u nervous? is there a specific thing ur worried about or u find nervewracking? always. find. the root!

have compassion and empathy and patience w yourself. its perfectly okay and normal to some extent to feel like this and of course we're all gonna feel like this sometimes but its important to treat urself with care, especially in these times.

treat urself as u would a child. i recommend treating urself like a friend a lot but when ur in a delicate and emotional state like this its better to treat urself like ur ur own child. take care of urself with the same love and attentiveness as you would your own children and give yourself time and take care of yourself to work through the issue. ♡

break things down and take it slow and simple. break it into steps and PUT. YOURSELF. FIRST until u feel able to go back out into the public again and be That Girl ♡

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 ur straight up mean

this can be anywhere from just being generally disinterested in people, being constantly negative all of the time to being just really shitty and rude. we all have the same potentials and possibilities but sometimes we can fall into the trap of negative patterns when interacting with others, which is okay. everyone messes up sometimes. but the important thing is is that we fall back out of that and become even better for it!

💬𓂃 ࣪˖ how do you deal with this?

try ur best to put ur ego aside and think about yourself from an outside perspective. would you wanna be friends with you? if you were another person, how would you think people feel around you?

(🗒🎀 note: if that's too difficult, create someone in ur head or mentally assign ur traits, the good and bad, to someone you dont really know, and think ab how youd feel around them. insecure? jealous? confident? excited? nervous? think about it.)

i know it sounds weird but literally just sit down and talk to people close to u when you get the chance or the opportunity comes up and ask if anything you do comes off rude or blunt or abrupt or any sort of negative trait you think might be the issue here. or just subtly (or directly, either one works) try and find out their opinions on you so u can figure out if that aligns w what and how u wanna be, and then how you can change that.

just be generally more sweet and polite. people are easily gonna like you more if ur not a total dick. stop being mean to people, say please and thank you, compliment strangers, smile at everyone, put ur ego aside cuz its really not that deep girl.

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 ur too nice / people pleaser

okay being nice is not a bad thing. there is a fine line between being THE nice girl and being A nice girl. there is a fine line between being kind and being a pushover. you don't have to sacrifice urself to be nice to people. being nice should go both ways!

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ how do you deal with this?

first things first, like all things and like i've said a billion times before, you need to address the root of what is causing you to act like this. this should always be the first thing you do when addressing any problem, esp w urself. why are you acting like this? what is causing you to endlessly seek approval like this and sacrifice urself in the process? think.

start saying no to people, even to the littlest things. if you want to do it then sure, but start saying no so much more often. it gives you a sense of control and shows you only you have a choice in the things you do in ur life, no one else.

define kindness. is what ur getting in return to this unconditional self sacrifice genuine kindness, or friendship, or respect, or attention, or whatever else you assume you're receiving from all of this? only you can answer that. ask urself what the genuine meaning of all the things ur trying to gain from this are and then see if that aligns w what ur receiving. (🗒🎀 note: also read this post of mine for more on this! ♡)

again, therapy is gonna help a lot w this. if this is making an impact on ur life, social or otherwise, then i am not a professional and cannot help u w this (as much as id like to). ily and i believe in u ♡

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 you seem "unapproachable / intimidating"

people are threatened by talent. people are threatened by beauty. people are threatened by what they aren't. so, congrats! you've achieved your goal! 🩷💭

🫶🏻𓂃 ࣪˖ how do you deal with this?

i told my therapist once that people have told me i seem rude, unapproachable, intimidating, etc. and i felt really upset about it because i dont wanna come off that way. i wanna be nice and approachable and someone people can talk to. and she asked me what i would do if my favourite celebrity or famous person or whatever was my age and was walking through my school. i told her i'd think they were really cool and want to be friends with them, but wouldn't be sure how to go about it bcuz they'd be super intimidating. think about that.

🗒️🎀 note: but if you do find that people say this or act like this around you a lot, then you might need to do some introspection and ask urself if anything ur doing makes people feel like that rather than their own insecurities and mindset. ♡

i just want to quickly add that not everybody is going to like you. everyone feels a general sense of dislike from time to time and this post is what i mean by that, NOT how to make everyone like you bcuz that's literally impossible and something you shouldn't waste ur time and energy on. as harsh as i may have been in this post ur amazing and i love u no matter how much improvement you have to do ♡ i love you and am proud of you and you should be proud of yourself too!

all my love... 💬🎀🫶🏻💗

[candyje11yfish]

ty! \(^_^)/ feelin good so ill try answer in detail for ya!!!! 

most of the time i just do basic cell shading. here ill explain my rendering process after i choose my base colours, ill try keep it short & sweet!! nvm warning buckle up its really super long.

flat colours -> fully shaded!!

⭐️Picking shading colours!

usually it's just the base colour with +saturation OR a hue shift! i dont really lower brightness.

This is what i mean by HSB, i never use the colour wheel i prefer the sliders!!!

i like my art to look super colourful so i do things like shading pink with blue instead of with a darker pink or red, as shown in the above callie piece.

examples ft lumity:

skin: i always keep it very simple & cartoony! over the nose, below the eyes, the neck & sometimes the tips of the ears is where i'll put shading

hair: as u can See, it's not darker than the base colour at all!! for dark hair like luz's, i brighten & saturate the colour, and for light hair like amity's i just shift the hue a little!

⭐️more kewl tips:

colourpick from yourself!!!! instead of making a new colour for everything, try using a colour u already have down!!!! like below: by limiting my colour palette, it looks more harmonious

really messy image but i hope u get what i mean. also the "off white / black" thing is a separate choosing base colours thing!! i can expand on that if anyone's interested 😙

shove halftones in wherever they fit. here are the 2 pngs i use!! there a rlly good alt to gradients, i used a LOT of them in that callie piece!!! clipping mask over where u want it & alpha lock to change colour.

⭐️here's a WHERE i put the shading:

look st the environment ur guy is in!! pick where your light source is coming from & look where that light will hit and where it is blocked by something.

bounce light: the sun's light is also shining on the grass! so powerful the green reflects right back!

this is kinda more realistic lighting now.

i kinda just put a circle wherever theres a corner!

and i put that Beautiful Shape a lot wherever. i change it a little depending on the character, sometimes its triangular or squarey but thats the base shape! i dont even know what its called but i love it.

look at this hello weird shape guy!!!

actually, my grandfest art are probably some of the most detailed art i have! u can see urself where i put shading & stuff - they do have more desaturated colour palettes though:

& here are some additional examples ^_^ flat colour -> shaded -> multiply layer -> lighting

in this one u can see the hand & leg at the back are completely in shadow too :)

anyway i think that's kinda it? i dont really know how to explain it, i just do what feels & looks right to me??? remember that im Not an expert & this is just how i do things :)

i will always repeat my no1 tips tho: keep drawing!!! and copy ur fave artists!!!!!! it really will hell u find what u like!!!!!!!!!!!!

i hope this post helps a little & answers ur question😇 never be shy to ask me anything cuz i love answering & chattin w u guys!!!!

EDIT: just saying these arent set rules or anything!!!! u can see just how many times i Dont follow my own advice LOL. my artstyle is super inconsistent, i rarely draw things the same every time

[paracosmicka]

i've contemplated sending u an ask here for like 2 days regarding ur sonadow art and oufhgh i have to say it is so,, so gentle like the intimacy and softness of it all/pos i hardly see artists that explore the intimate cuddly drawings without the sexual coding so finding your art is so nice?? like refreshing nice as an aroace person bc in my perfect world, many little guys are just cat coded and it's so so cool to me to have found ur art out in the wild also for the mpreg stuff youre literally one of the most normal ppl i've seen draw/bring it up lol, i'm aware so many ppl like to meme on it or make it a fetish which tbh is pretty transphobic, so i'm just really glad you steered it away from that direction and displayed it as something normal and gentle given the context of the au/lh

first off thank you this is such a nice message and i love that people also feel the vibes of soft and intimate from my sonadow art that’s my only ever goal whenever i drew them 😭😭

second off FELLOW AROACE PERSON ACQUIRED 🫵‼️like omg you get it i love thinking about ships in a cat coding way if that makes sense but especially sonadow bc they’re animals so i just love thinking about them as little guys i can put in my pocket just like my cat

like idk if this is an aroace thing bc i don’t hear it described in a way that i relate to exactly so this might just be me but basically: i’ve always loved romance and ships in fiction but as i got older i slowly realized that i don’t think i can feel it for myself. which kinda made me sad at first because the idea of having a partner always seemed so nice, that was the main reason i didn’t think i was aroace at first because i thought i had always wanted to be in a relationship. i did some research and looked into different identities on the aroace spectrum, and thought that cupioromantic was probably the most accurate to what i was feeling, but later didn’t feel like it applied to me because i think the “enjoys the idea of being in a relationship” doesn’t fit right? ig?? idk how to describe it other than i like the idea of relationships, but it took me awhile to realize that i didn’t really want to apply myself in one if that makes sense.

most likely there’s a thing or word out there that already exists to describe that and i just haven’t been looking up the right terms, but basically this is just a very very long way of saying that i feel like whenever i get into a ship it sorta..…attaches?? to my very identity or something?? like i know people can be like “this is my OTP i love them forever and think about them literally all the time” and it’s like YES that’s me but also feels like an understatement, like all of my past hyperfixations on ships are literally ingrained into my soul even i’m not that into them anymore. and i know people compare hyperfixations to relationships and tbh that’s probably the most accurate description but again, that feels like an understatement.

okay honestly idk where i’m going with this i think what i’m TRYING to say is that i feel like because i can’t feel romance for myself my appreciation for ships feels so much more…emphasized, and sonadow is like the longest consistent hyperfixation i’ve ever had on a ship and at that point usually when something has been a “hyperfixation” for 2+ plus years i put it on the special interest display case in my brain except that display case has only ever had like hobbies and fandoms themselves, never an actual fictional relationship that i’m obsessed with but here we are. it might be the development of brain has synched up with this specific hyperfixation but sonadow is the first ship that makes me feel genuinely happy to this degree. it doesn’t make me sad to think about them and also go “aw i’m sad because i’ve never felt that way about another person and probably won’t experience that ever” in the exact same way you would go “aw i’m going to be dead someday” when you think about the fact that you’re alive right now and conscious and exist and have a mini existential crisis of the week. like sonadow doesn’t do that to me, i really just love those stupid fucking gay hedgehogs so much they’ve actually changed the entire layout of my brain and all the neurons and shit they’re everything to me.

ANYWAY JESUS CHRIST sorry for the ramble uhhhh lemme know if you or any other aroace people know what the fuck i was trying to say there hope you’re doing well and also happy new year!!!

[danikamariewrites]

hello hi may I please request more ddlg cassian content 👉👈 maybe with reader being grumpy bc of her cycle & cassian coming home & just being like "ok drop the attitude, I'm gonna take care of you now" & calming her down?? (totally not self indulgent LOL) thank u PS I love ur blog & ur writing keep up the good work!!! 🩷🩷🩷

Brat Girl Problems

Ddlg!Cassian x reader

Notes: Hi anon! You literally read my mind because I’m writing more headcanons for him since I’ve missed writing this for Cass. I have a ddlg period fic here (not surprising lol). I can relate to you this week because this has not been my week for many reasons including my period 🫠

Thank you for your kind words. I hope you like it!

Warnings: ddlg relationship, bratty!reader, period talk

Nothing felt right today.

Your clothes didn’t fit right, there was nothing you wanted to eat in the house, and Cassian had been gone all day. On top of all that your cycle began today. And it was only 11 am! How could things get worse?

When a cramp hit or pain spliced through your head tears spilled from your eyes. Cassian was supposed to be here to take care of you. He was supposed to know this was going to happen without you telling him.

You had sent all your feelings down the mating bond to no response from your mate. It made you angry. You felt like Cassian was ignoring you, making you angry on top of all your other emotions.

You were staring to get overwhelmed. Meaning you were about to snap. Letting out an angry huff another debilitating cramp hits you. You let out a scream, pulling on your hair and throwing yourself down on the couch.

And just when you thought you couldn’t get more annoyed the front door opened. “Hello,” Cassian called out far too casually for you. And no sweet sentiments? None of your nicknames?

Anger forced you to go greet your mate. The smile on Cassian’s face deepened your scowl. Cassian opens his arms for you, but all you do in response is huff and cross yours over your chest.

Cassian tilts his head in confusion. “Sweet pea, what’s wrong?” “What’s? Wrong?” You repeat through gritted teeth, still fighting that cramp. “Everything is wrong! And I’m mad!” You let out a small huff, turning on your heel.

Cassian followed you all the way to the bedroom. He hoped you would acknowledge him following you. The male wasn’t exactly quiet. Before you could slam the bathroom door in his face he gently grabbed your shoulders, turning you to face him.

“I’m going to ask one more time, what is wrong?” Staring up into his soft hazel eyes the concern on his face mixed with your pain broke the dam. Your bottom lip quivered as you burst into tears.

“I hate all of my clothes today, I’m so uncomfortable in everything and I’m hungry and you weren’t here! My cycle started today and you were supposed to be here!” Cassian pulls you into his chest, smoothing down your hair. “Oh sweet girl. I’m so sorry. I thought it was going to happen tomorrow.”

You push away from him. A deep frown still on your face. “You should’ve known.” You snip. Cassian pulls you back to him as you sob more and continue your rant. Your mate soothes you, rubbing your back and playing with your hair. When you finally run out of words Cassian gently holding the back of your neck, firing you to look up at him. “Hey,” his tone commanding and gentle all at once has your frown gone. “Enough of this. No more attitude ok?” Cassian nods his head and you start to nod along with him. “I’m here now and I’m going to take care of everything.”

“Promise daddy?” Cassian presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Pinky promise, sweet girl.”

When Cassian says he’ll take care of everything he means it. It’s nothing but princess treatment when it comes to his sweet girl. He drew you a bath making sure to massage your shoulders and back.

He gave you his shirt along with your favorite sweatpants. You cuddled up to your mate as he massaged your stomach to help your cramps, pressing kisses to the back of your head. Once you fall asleep Cassian sneaks out to make your favorite snack.

When he comes back you’re wide awake waiting for him. Your eyes light up at the sight of food. “Thank you daddy.” You smile as you eat. “Of course, sweet girl.” You hug him tight, pressing soft kisses to his neck.

[obsessedwrhys]

okokokok HEAR ME OUT !… rottmnt brothers x a gn! younger adopted sibling medusa hcs… whose snakes are lowkey protective of them… sometimes they act on their own but if the reader is feeling an emotion strongly they’ll feel that emotion… yeah… (can you also make the reader calm, collected and reserved?)

(Idk if ur reqs are closed or not so u can do this later or delete it if you want)

ROTTMNT X MEDUSA!READER

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ fluff, bit of angst, reader is gn!! (Look at how cute they are)

RAPH

As babies he was always so scared of the snakes on your head. Like what do you mean it's supposed to be your hair? How does that even work?

Every now and then when he's passing by your room, he couldn't help but sneak a glance of you pampering to the snakes. It's just so amusing to see you treat them as if they have a mind of their own.

Which they do in some cases.

Growing up together, he has gotten use to the fact that the snakes happen to also feel whatever emotions you feel. Anger. Despair. Joy.

Never in his life would he ever think to see a hundred snakes smiling at him. But oh well, at least you're happy.

He is honestly very astonished with your ability to turn any living or non-living things to stone.

There was this one time where you guys were fighting and a member of the foot clan managed to sneak up behind you, but due to your enhanced reflexes, you were fast enough to turn him into stone. You simply blew at the sculpture and eventually it loses its balance and falls.

Remind him to never mess with you 'cause being turned into stone does not look fun.

Despite your scary appearance, you were the most chill person in the group. You would always be found either in the living room watching tv or in your room doing your thing.

What I'm trying to say is that you're the least expected sibling to create the huge mess of the day for everyone to deal with.

He doesn't find the snakes on your head too much of a deal, he cares and loves you all the more.

LEO

He finds the snakes on your head so cool!!

Since ya'll were kids, he's been constantly storming up with stupid tricks or ideas to do with you.

And you obliged each time because you didn't feel like it was anything dangerous. Most of the time you guys end up having fun.

He has once asked you to turn Donnie to stone. Obviously you said no.

Even though your ability to turn people to stone is irreversible, it still doesn't give you the excuse to just do it to anyone or anything as you liked. Which is the same thing you've said to Leo multiple times and he always let's out an annoyed groan at your reminder.

He 100% picks fight with the snakes on your head. Always sneakily poking one or pulling one (obvs not that hard) when it's not looking, what he doesn't realise is that you can feel it too. He's been bit many times for doing that but he never learns.

He just enjoys messing with you :(

It's the sibling energy in him.

Did I forget to mention how he managed to convince you to turn him to stone in order to escape Raph's lecture? Yeah that happened.

I've said this before and I'll say this again, he definitely makes terrible dad jokes related to snakes towards you. It always entertains him and him only.

"You know, people always say snakes are so venomous but I think they're just slitherin around"

"That was terrible Leo"

He likes to hug you because he just loves the feeling of the snakes on your head rubbing against his face. It's like the same feeling you feel when a cat rubs it's face against your face. So relaxing.

He loves to especially bury his face into them.

It weirds out the others but you don't mind as long as he doesn't hurt you or the snakes.

He just LOVE LOVE LOVESSSSS it.

Also the way your eyes glows red alongside the snakes whenever you turn something to stone? You look ethereal!!

And the tiny traces of scales across your skin??? Badass!!

He'll literally wear a cheerleader fit and swing around pong pongs to cheer you on.

DONNIE

Since you were kids, he was always drawn towards the snakes on your head. He always wondered how did it even get there.

He once accidentally pulled on one of the snakes as a kid and the bite on his hand is now scarred to life.

He doesn't tell you but he thinks the snakes looks great on you, the green matching the green in your eyes is like the cherry on top. Not to mention your fashion sense is amazing!!

He doesn't mind having you stay in his lab, you're not loud and don't disturb his work which he appreciates it.

I like to think that whenever he's bored, he'll probably approach you to examine on the snakes on your head. You don't really mind and just continue on doing whatever it is that you were doing in the first place.

Though, there was this one time you caught him waving at the snakes and smiled when they all greet him back.

He definitely asks questions about stuff.

Some of the questions that still stuck to you was "If you used a mirror and activated your power, will you be able to turn yourself to stone?" And "Do the snakes on your head grow like hair?"

The last one might be true in a way. The snakes only extends when you want it to. You just do it when it's convenient, whether to toss a bad guy away or to grab a cup of coffee on the table.

He would hyperfixate on Greek Mythology when he sees the obvious similarity. However it just made his brain spin even more. Were you also cursed? He never knew how to ask you about that since he's afraid to trigger your emotions.

The last time he did that the snakes on your head all began hissing at him, not to mention seconds away from attacking him.

But it doesn't matter, you'll tell everyone when you want to. All he knows is that you grew up together and care about each other, that's already enough.

MIKEY

Oooh snakes.

I just have a feeling that since babies, the snakes on your head has always been so affectionate towards Mikey.

Like out of all the brothers, he's the only one they let him do things with. Helping you do different hairstyles, feeding them and even giving them accessories. Anything he can do to make you look glamorous.

He also happen to name each of the snakes. He says he doesn't have a favourite but it's way too obvious that you're his favourite.

He hates it however when you're sad, the way the snakes on your head pretty much drops with a frown breaks his heart.

Everytime Leo decides to mess with you, Mikey is 100% already there and simply standing menacingly behind him, waiting for him to finally notice him.

"He's standing behind me isn't he?"

"😡"

A lot of the days where its sunny, he would definitely take you go swimming. He knows how frustrated you get when it's too hot.

Same goes to when it's winter, this boy will go out of his way to make a comfortable beanie for you to use and for the snakes to nestle in.

Also you have a big appetite but do not fear!! He will prepare you the most delicious meal you'll ever eat!!

You're surprisingly good at communicating with animals. You've befriended some of the rats in the sewer and he can't help but call you the "Rat Whisperer"

He loves hanging out with you, whether if it's doing nothing together or having fun, he likes spending every second with you.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

requesting hand kisses for all my life there you go if ur still taking :) that's one of my favourite ongoing fics in the whole fandom! every time u update I smile so big. - @team-118

@chaosandwolves also requested this one! Thank you so much omg 😳😳😳 Uhhhh sorry this is kind of stream of consciousness half tragic 8x08 reaction…. They’ll kiss for real eventually Eddie’s just going through it. On ao3!

“I don’t know,” Eddie says, backlit by the sun coming in through the window over the sink. Wrong sink, wrong window, so many many miles away from anything Buck knows as home, but also- maybe they’d fit into any kitchen like this. Eddie at the sink by the window, Buck at the table. So we just never leave the kitchen, Buck thinks. They never go back into the wrong living room of this tiny apartment 15 minutes from Christopher and 12 hours from Los Angeles. They never leave because Buck doesn’t know how to exist outside of this context, Eddie at the sink and Buck at the table. They just stay right here. They move kitchen to kitchen, it’ll all be okay.

“I don’t know,” Eddie says again. He looks tired. It’s January. He left before Thanksgiving and Buck couldn’t eat anything the whole day, pushed around turkey and mashed potatoes he helped Bobby make on the nice dishes Maddie got down from storage. It’s January but it's Texas, and it can get cold sometimes but it isn’t right now, so he’s in shorts and a worn out t-shirt, holes in the collar. His arms are crossed. Holding himself together. Buck knows the feeling.

“Buck,” Eddie says, stunned, broken open, dripping with guilt. “I didn’t know it would feel like this.” One hand wanders out from the knot he’s tied himself in and then quickly tangles itself back up again. “I don’t… know-” he laughs, this is stunned too. “You were there- you were always just there. I didn’t need to ask- there was nothing to ask. It’s just the way it was.” He looks up, guilty guilty. “I didn’t know it would feel like this. Leaving you.” All the air sighs out of Buck’s lungs, and he doesn’t know what to say. It’s never been hard to talk to Eddie, who’s always waited out his stumbled words and winding sentences easily and without judgment, but the only thing he has to say now is: I did. You were looking at homes and you said they’re in El Paso and I knew exactly what it would feel like for you to rip yourself out of me. I forgive you for not knowing — I didn’t understand either, until that moment — but I did know.

“And now I- Buck, I don’t want to live like that- like this- I don’t want a life without you in it. A-and I don’t know what that looks like.” Eddie’s face is helpless, begging. “I know you- I don’t know that I-” one hand reaches again, pulls back again. “You like men and I- I don’t know that I-” a furrow between his brows and he looks as scared as he only ever was telling Buck about people who died in a helicopter crash years after it went down. “I’d try. To be that for you. To- to do that with you. I’ll- we can-”

“Eddie,” Buck says.

“Can’t I just want to hold you?” Eddie demands it. “Can’t I- can’t you sleep next to me? Can’t I take care of you?” He looks near angry. “What do you- I don’t need anything else. I don’t need anything else. Just- can’t I have you?” Buck thinks it’s probably unnecessary to say you already do. In any way. Held and slept beside and cared for. What else is there? He’d live off far less.

“I’d marry you,” Eddie says. “I’ll marry you. You can- if you need- there can be other people but you can come home to me. I’ll- Chris- it’s getting better. We’ll come home soon, we’ll move home soon, and- and we’ll work together again and you come home to me-” hands uncrossed, hovering, shaking. “You can do anything, you can see other people, just- come home to me.”

“There’s only you,” Buck whispers.

“Buck,” Eddie says, a cry. He comes closer. “Please.” When his hands touch Buck’s face, warm, he almost flinches. It’s just that they’re so real, solid, impossible to dismiss as imagination or hallucination or dream or wishful thinking. Eddie’s hands, on his face, scratching into his hair, scrabbling over his back as the man collapses onto him smelling like deodorant and coffee and sweat, t-shirt cotton soft over the fat and muscle that presses into Buck’s face. Buck’s arms drift up to hold him back. This is a new place Buck could learn the context for. Kitchen sink and table, held in Eddie’s arms. The only two places in the world that make any goddamn sense. Eddie’s curled over him, a shelter, his body a home. But Buck already knew that, too.

“Sorry,” Eddie croaks. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry I’m like this.” Buck holds tighter so Eddie doesn't shake so much. “I’m sorry I didn’t know. I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry you- I’m sorry I hurt you. God- Buck, it hurts, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry-” Buck shakes his head, face dragging across Eddie’s chest. He could fall asleep here. Rest until they go meet Christopher this afternoon. Rest until he has to get up at 4 to get to the airport and catch the red-eye and tear himself in two again. Visiting was a bad idea, maybe. He’s not sure he can survive that a second time. But Eddie said soon, he said he’ll come home soon, he and Chris. Buck and Eddie and Chris, who all come home at the end of the day, kitchen table kitchen sink Eddie’s arms sleeping and cared for.

“I love you,” Buck says. Why not. Why not.

“Buck,” a gasp, though surely Eddie can’t be surprised. He pulls back, face red and wet. His hands slide across Buck’s shoulders, down his arms, pull Buck’s hands up and press his knuckles to his mouth. Closes his eyes. Buck feels warm puffs of air against his fingers. Two lungs messy breathing loud in the small room. “Buck,” he says, and Buck knows what he means, knows the reply for what it is. He was wrong, the flight will be easy. The wait will be easy.

Eddie opens his eyes.

[afyrian]

Hii!!!! I love ur writing and little stories so much i was wondering if you could write a long cute story where kuroo wants to surprise you with a dinner date at home (makes u get all dressed up and hes cooking like hibachi and doing all the cute things w the food for u to watch + COMPLIMENTS TO THE CHEF 💕) i thought that ur writing would be so fitting for this short but longish story!!!

Thank you so much if you end up writing this!!!🫶🫶🫶

hibachi surprise kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader (fluff) m.list | wc: 900 | synopsis: kuroo isn’t the best at surprises, but he pulls it off regardless

    "how much longer do you think it'll be?" you shout into your bedroom door, pressing your ear against the wood as you listen for his hopefully positive answer.

  the sound of crackling oil on a hot pan just barely passing through the wood. a light mix of music dances in the background and almost drowns out any chance for kuroo to hear your question. however, you can hear him set something down, yelling back to you, "just one more minute, i promise!"

  stepping back from your bedroom door, you look towards your mirror, noticing your dress that reaches to the floor. you hadn't bought it that long ago for a wedding, kuroo taking this opportunity to convince you to wear it again. the dark green color cascades from the short sleeves down to your ankles, your white socks contrasting. the overhead light shimmers off of it, appearing beautifully under the artificial light. 

  the only thing turning your attention is the sound of the doorknob creaking. turning around, you spot kuroo standing in the door, a chef's hat and apron on that you have never seen. a mischievous smile graces his face as his hand reaches for your elbow. "welcome to kuroo's hibachi, bar and grill," hooking his arm through yours, he keeps his eyes on you.

  "oh, i didn't know we could even get a reservation here," you reach your free hand up to your heart, taking in a mostly pretend dreamy breath, knowing he could always send your heart racing. 

  walking through the living room, you make your way to the kitchen. inside he has ingredients filling the kitchen’s many surfaces. from the small hibachi grill in the middle of a serving cart you bought on a whim, to the many side ingredients resting on the dining table. even a couple bottles of wine grace a small wine rack. guiding you to the table, he pulls out your seat.

  “may i interest you in a table side dinner show?” kuroo raises his eyebrows, unfurling a napkin and resting it on your thighs. 

  looking up at him, you fold your hands together on the tablecloth, giving him a short smile. “i would love to see a show, especially from my favorite cook,” you narrow your eyes, watching as he wheels the hibachi grill over to you. 

  the wood inside burns slowly, a light red color flickering inside. holding a few pieces of meat over the grill grate, letting the heat within bring it to the required temperature. grabbing a few extra ingredients for your plate, you look up at your cook, “so, chef tetsuro, when did you start working here?”

  “just a year ago, although i wanted to for a few months beforehand, told all my friends,” kuroo flips one of the pieces of beef over, grabbing a couple peppers and setting them down on the opposite end, “now, would you like stir fried rice on the stove as a side? i’ve learned from the very best.”

  you knew that he had been running by onigiri miya more often, claiming that kenma ‘fell in love’ with the place. you had never believed him, but with each passing hint and surprise, you came to expect some sort of surprise. “of course i would, chef. may i just say that you are dashingly handsome, tetsuro?” you rest your chin against your knuckle, elbow resting on the edge of the table.

  “taking compliments to the chef a little seriously, aren’t we? but i wouldn’t want to deny someone of such beauty from sending a few my way,” kuroo walks into the kitchen, messing with a wok that is already cooking up what you could only expect to be the fried rice

  watching him, you notice the way his sleeves are rolled up above his elbows. the way his eyes glance back at you because he knows you’ve always been enamored with him and his sense of humor. how he somehow always brings a smile to your face, and despite his terrible ability to keep anything a secret, he makes up for it with a grand sense of mental adventure. 

  watching as he turns back towards the table with the wok, you wait patiently for him to pour some onto your plate and one that sits across from you. returning to the hibachi, he flips the meat again, the brown coloring nearly to the perfect tone. kuroo looks back down at you in your seat, your dress that he believes you look gorgeous in, “i love you.”

  “i love you too, i hope you know that this is the best surprise anyone has ever created for me,” you take a bit of food up, nearly stuffing it into your mouth, savoring the umami flavor.

  “well maybe you could even plan this sort of thing for my birthday,” kuroo keeps his eyes on yours, holding a sarcastic smile as he thinks of all the times you nearly burnt down the kitchen.

  rolling your eyes, you finish chewing. holding out your hand to grab his, feeling the callouses on his fingers from the volleyball pick up games and the warmth of his fingers, you give him a soft smile. “i could definitely try, but for now, i’d like to thank you with something a little more personal,” guiding his head down with your free hand, you kiss his lips softly, letting him taste the fruit of his labor. 

a/n: sorry this took forever!! but i finally got some inspo + it’s kuroo’s birthday! and thank you for the kind words <33 gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@nekozaki @nnnyxie @kameyyy

[chaussetteblanche]

Luv ur writing 🫶 I was wondering if u could do a Kit Conner imagine or headcanon where Kit takes reader to the gym for the first time, teaching & encouraging the reader how to use the equipment and it's rlly fluffy 🤭

hi !! thank you so much for requesting !! hope you like it :)

pairing : kit connor x gn!reader summary : kit shows you around his gym word count : 1.1k warnings : none

It had to be clear : you did not go to the gym. You had never gone to the gym, nor would you ever go. You had other ways of keeping your body moving and healthy. The gym was not one of them. You didn't hate the gym, per say, it just wasn't for you. But when Kit came over one evening, ran a hand through his hair and offered for you to come with him to his gym and try it out, you couldn't refuse. It had been out of the question for two reasons : you would be spending time with Kit and you would get to see his muscles. In that order specifically.

So you'd packed your things the week after that and you guys had driven down to his gym. You felt slightly nervous, of course, because Kit was ripped and you were- well, you were just you. And you hadn't been to the gym in so long. You gripped his hand before getting out the car. "You'll show me how everything works, right ? What to do and what not to do ? I don't wanna embarrass myself," you bit your lip. Kit chuckled, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing the back of it. "Yes, I'll explain everything and, even though you couldn't embarrass yourself if you tried, I'll make sure you don't." He pressed a short kiss against your lips, soothing your worries for a while. "Don't worry, luv, everything will be fine!"

After changing in the locker rooms and grabbing your towel, you phone, your water-bottle and your headphones, you met Kit in the actual gym. You didn't know much about gyms, but this one certainly looked expensive. It had large windows, smelled clean and had so many different machines. Kit beamed at you, happy so see his favourite person in one of his favourite places. His eyes roamed over you and your tight-fitting sport's attire. God, you looked good. He bent down and gave you a small kiss when you reached him. "I, uh, I thought I'd just show you around," he spoke uncertainly. Now that you were here, he felt kind of stupid for asking you to come with him. You brushed those thoughts away with a smile. "Show me around, darling."

You started with the lat pull-down machine, which you quite liked. It was easy to use and Kit explained it well. "Do you want to try heavier ?" he asked after you did three reps of ten with a weight you were comfortable with. "Yeah, I can give it a try," you smiled. He smiled proudly down at you and reached over you to change the weight. "Good girl," he hummed. You inhaled shakily, licking your lips before sucking your teeth. You blame your bad performance on the first pull-down on that praise. Kit knew this, of course, cheeky bastard, he just loved watching you get flustered.

You struggled through the next reps, but managed with Kit's encouragement. "C'mon, my love, you can do it." "I believe in you, you can take it." "Just one more, dove, then it's over !" Then Kit asked you if you wanted to go heavier. You said yes, of course. You could never say no to him. This time, though, when you went to pull the bar down, it stayed at the top. Your body, on the other hand, lifted up from the seat. Kit muffled his laughter in his fist while you giggled. "Stick your legs beneath the cylinders, luv,"

Now, as much as you loved having Kit explain everything to you and look incredibly good while doing it, what you loved even more was watching him work out. You couldn't think too long and hard about it, not in a place like the gym, but he looked nothing short of godly. His hair, slightly darker because of the sweat would fall into his eyes a bit, and sometimes he'd blow it away. His muscles would swell and go down. And you lived for those times when he'd let out a small huff of effort. It made you think of other times when he let out similar sounds. If you ever joined a gym, it would be this one, and you would know exactly why (spoiler : it wouldn't be to work out).

The next thing was RDLs. Kit had really gifted himself that one. Bottom lip stuck between his teeth, he watched you closely from behind as you bent down slowly before standing back up, keeping your back nice and straight. "Am I doing this right ?" you asked after a rep, "Kit ?" You turned around to find Kit almost entranced, staring at where your ass had been a second ago. His face reddened as you stared expectantly at him. "I, uh, no, that- that looked real good to me, y'know ?" He scratched the back of his neck. You nodded, running your tongue over your teeth as you laughed. "I'm sure it did look real good." Kit rolled his eyes and bumped your shoulder, going to get heavier weights.

You spotted a couple at the other side of the gym doing sit-ups facing each other, only they kissed each time they reached the top. You giggled, discreetly pointing them out to Kit, who bit back a laugh. "That's a bit much, innit ?" he asked quietly, preparing the station for your next and last exercise : hip thrusts. "Nooo," you shook your head, whispering, "you think ?" Kit laughed before slapping the ground next to a small bench. "Sit here," he instructed. He proceeded to explain in detail how to do a hip thrust, how to not hurt yourself while doing one and what its benefits were. He had you at "bigger ass", or "really works the gluteus maximus" as he has said.

You found that exercise pretty easy so Kit was adding weight on pretty soon. Turns out you were really good at hip thrusts. Even Kit was surprised at how much weight you could thrust. You liked doing them, too, they were fun. Kit had his turn after you and, your eyes trained on the section where the bar rested against his body, you were reminded of other situations where he got a similar workout. You fanned yourself, suddenly very warm. Kit finished his set and stood up, coming over to you.

"Y'alright, love ?" he asked, brows slightly furrowed as he stared down at you. He was close and nearly towered over you. "Y-yeah, just a bit hot," you grinned. Kit chuckled and pressed a kiss to your sweaty temple. "Let's go, I want you out of these clothes."

And out of your clothes he got you.

[thatdeadaquarius]

That language SAGAU but the Reader can only communicate writing on paper.

Either the Reader is mute and they (characters) don't know/understand sign language or they somehow lost their voices on their transmigration to Teyvat and can only write now. But the characters are left trying to decipher what the Reader wrote.

Examples:

Kaeya: "I may say, that was very unexpected your grace. One such as yourself should be more aware of who you are."

Reader: "wat, y u sayin dat?"

×

Gorou: "Oh, your grace! Careful now. I am most certain that you stepped on something unsightly right now. Let me clean your feet, your grace."

Reader: "r u srs rn? Fml"

Ooooo, this is nice, this is niiccceeee /ref

this would be the energy⬇️

Man I love this show, I gotta finish it (it’s Komi Can’t Communicate for those who want to see it) where she basically is too shy/introverted to speak (non-verbal neurospicy it seems like to me actually lol) and really wants to make friends and do normal things despite not speaking, her main way of communicating is writing (and her first guy friend who can just read her facial/body language really well lmao)!!

☆

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (they/them)

Planet: Headcanons-ish?

Stars: dashes/mention of most characters

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Reader/”you” are mute/lost their voice, & Trigger Warnings: None Known.

☆

This kinda falls into that post I made abt texting lingo, abt us being nigh incomprehensible when using texting lang. (its basically a code lol)

but i think it’s always neat to see nonverbal rep so here we are (also i think imma go ahead and say it is both selectively mute but also enforced by video game laws!)

u know a good explanation would be for this is actually abt how we technically are only allowed to freely communicate when we’re in chats,

so I could see that still being the only way we can commnicate in Teyvat (look am i little excited abt taking “video game world” a little too literally in every genshin AU ever- maybe.)

tbh i could see so many allogenes having to either learn to make room for you in convos and u also having to get wayyy more expressive in body language/facial expressions

tbh i think itd be pretty easy to get ur meaning, like in a battle or smth fast-paced where u couldnt write, like how Tinker Bell can?

if u dont know what i mean just search “tinkerbell scenes peter pan” on youtube and u can see ppl just having a full conversation with no words with her, which i think would deffo happen with ppl like Kaeya, Lisa, Lumine, Venti, Heizou, Ayato, Yae Miko, Thoma, Beidou and Itto surprisingly i could see it (ppl in the distance just think theyre all talking to themselves sometimes when ur not as visible hehe)

OMG they get u nice gifts for writing all the time, like the newest compact pens from Fontaine, the finest small, medium, and large notebooks from Inazuma,

like a little compact pocketbook so u can easily fit it in pockets!

u know Im absolutely sure you could literally start the texting appreviation trend in Tevyat like this-

like just so it’s easier to communicate with you, a lot of people are willing to adapt/take on abbreviations like “ttyl, gtg, wth, lol, lmao” even stuff like “etc”

lol u start a whole trend in the writing letters business, hehe silly medieval Teyvat is silly and medieval

yknow I think the quieter vision users would definitely find you to be peaceful to be around and easy to understand just with writing (also deffo most likely to adore the soft moments together of just ur pen scribbling and the sounds of nature or a cafe or something around them),

tbh i also think these ppl would be motivated to talk to you alone, or get you away to just talk the two of you for all the reasons above, like Xiao, Aether, Kazuha, Ayaka, Chongyun, Zhongli, Diluc, Sayu, Ei, Sucrose, Eula, Ganyu, Ningguang, Tighnari, Alhaitham omg he might literally be able to take his headphones off around u bc youd be in such quiet spaces all the time, and bc u dont talk he doesn’t have to worry abt u getting loud either lmao

…and then ofc, there’s the bitches that try and guess what ur writing ahead of timeeee 😭

bein all like, “Uh… you.. would like.. to go to… a restaurant… to get some- OH OH I got this one this time! Some pita pockets! …Oh. A drink. Right. Sorry, again.”

definitely Itto, Cyno, Heizou, Xingqiu, Fischl, Amber, Collei, Dehya, Wanderer, Childe, Venti, Keqing (she just used to being fast ok), Kaveh lmao

☆

I hope my reply was a little fun!! THANK U FOR SENDING THIS I LOVE THIS SM!! Man it’s so hard to make you feel my appreciation for this idea thru the damn screen

like how do i send a virtual hug

ANYWAY, if you or anybody else had an idea for celebrating 1000 followers lmk bc i am STRUGGLING with this same issue for that,

like how to make u guys feel my love 😩 ❤️‍🔥

☆

Safe travels ignihideous,

💀♒

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonderss / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi

[luxaofhesperides]

those who serve.

CHAPTER SEVEN: a wound.

previous chapter. full fic on ao3.

14k.... finish what ure doing first before u read this. this is ur only warning.

cw for this chapter: violence, injuries, nongraphic medical procedures

. . .

Danny gets one week to adjust to the reveal of the Wayne family’s night activities, on top of getting learning more and more each day to help Alfred. Then everything upends itself in the face of a gala taking place in the manor in ten days.

Most of the preparations have been taken care of by Alfred months in advance; renting out extra tables, chairs, and tablecloths, hiring catering, getting together press passes for attending reporters, and so much more. He kindly goes over each thing for Danny, reviewing the specifics of each group so Danny can have an idea of what to look for in the future. The amount of information he gets makes his head spin, and the prices of everything make him break out into a cold sweat.

Technically, Danny is joining the ranks of the rich with his new paycheck, but no amount of time will make him comfortable with such large numbers being attached to his bank account.

Ten days to the gala, Alfred shows Danny how to get blood out of white and light colored clothes. Tim, apparently, pulled some stitches after getting stabbed the night before, and bled through his shirt. 

Hydrogen peroxide is a life saver. It definitely would have been useful to have while he still lived in Amity Park.

He also discovers a love of ironing; watching the wrinkles in the fabric disappear is deeply satisfying in ways he can’t put to words. 

“I’d certainly be happy to pass on all ironing duties to you,” Alfred says, when Danny mentions this. “Just be careful not to burn yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not that clumsy!” he replies, moving the iron across another shirt. Looking at Alfred, Danny miscalculates how far he’s moved the iron, and the edge of the hot metal touches his palm, pressing the shirt flat against the ironing board. He yelps, yanking his hand back, then gives Alfred a sheepish smile. “That doesn’t count.”

Alfred shakes his head with a fond smile, holding out a hand. “Let me see.”

Danny holds up his hand for Alfred to inspect. There’s no burn, barely any redness in the skin, but Danny draws some ice across the area anyways to keep Alfred from worrying.

“You could always iron using oven mitts,” Alfred suggests. “I believe we have some spare Batman themed ones in the kitchen.” His tone is so dry and even that it takes Danny a second to realize he’s joking.

“I would have accepted that if it wasn’t Batman themed,” he jokes back. “Anyone but him.”

“He’ll be heartbroken to hear that, I’m sure.”

Danny snickers and goes back to ironing, carefully keeping it away from his hand this time.

He’s not laughing when Alfred teaches him about formal suits that night, showing him each piece to the suit and how to properly wash, fold, and iron them, as well as how to put them on. And then he drops the bombshell of, “You’ll be getting your suit fitted tomorrow as well,” in the most casual tone possible for him.

Danny chokes on nothing and has to spend a minute clearing his throat before he can say, “Sorry, what did you just say?”

“You need to get fitted for a suit. Tomorrow. I have already made the appointment with a tailor I’ve worked with for many decades.”

“Cool, that’s what I thought you said. Is this required?”

“Yes, as you’ll be attending the gala as well. We are the two permanent members of the Wayne Manor staff. There will be eyes on us as we keep the event running smoothly, so it’s important to be well dressed.”

It makes sense when Alfred puts it like that, but Danny still has to smother his instinctive refusal. He’s only rented suits before for school dances, and those were never super comfortable. He avoids events that require suits, like formal conferences his parents are invited to, with an extended invite for family. Suits and wealth will always make him think first of Vlad. 

Maybe in time, he’ll associate those things more with the Waynes, but for now, Vlad is the face that comes to mind and Danny has to shove away the urge to run and hide.

“Not to worry,” Alfred adds, as Danny struggles to smooth out his expression from the pained grimace it twisted into, “You will not be going to this appointment alone.”

That’s not the part that Danny’s concerned about, but he still appreciates it. He’s definitely not ready to be alone in the city again, considering how his first time out with the Waynes ended with a hostage situation and a mall full of violent gangsters.

There’s not much anyone here can do for his own hangups, especially when they originate in another dimension. 

So Danny pastes on an unconvincing smile and gets back to work.

Nine days before the gala, Danny finds himself in a car with Bruce and Cass. Alfred had offered to drive them, but Bruce grabbed the keys before anyone else could and cheerily waved Alfred away. He was then told to not get another speeding ticket and to try to be a good role model for Danny.

Danny, whose only good role model is Jazz, looked away nonchalantly and acted like he didn’t hear that. 

It’s not like he needs good role models anyways. He’s doing just fine on his own!

Alfred doesn’t count because Alfred isn’t a role model as much as he’s an ideal Danny is striving for. Alfred is who Danny wants to be when he grows up. Now that he has a chance to grow up (relatively) safe, that is.

Cass had snickered at the three of them, then bodily shoved Danny into the backseat before climbing in after him.

Now, they’re going down the streets of Gotham, driving over a bridge, through neighborhoods, through run down districts that slowly get bigger and cleaner and visibly more suited for people with money. Bruce doesn’t drive recklessly, thankfully, despite Alfred’s warnings. 

Even so, Danny still clings to the car door, ready to throw himself out at a moment’s notice. He’s learned to bail quickly with his parents’ dangerous driving. 

“You alright back there?” Bruce asks, meeting Danny’s eyes briefly in the rearview mirror.

“Yep!” Danny chokes out. “Doing great!”

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to regulate his breathing, counting slowly in an attempt to settle the wild beating of his heart. 

He wasn’t this bad in cars before. Even with his parents. He’s not sure what changed, but being in Gotham, after everything that’s happened, makes the small space of a car feel suffocating. The rocking of the car as it goes down bumpy roads would have once lulled him to sleep, but now makes his stomach roll and his chest go tight with panic. None of this is made better by having two observant and dangerous people watching his every reaction, no matter how small.

The radio is playing softly, simple background noise as Bruce drives them through Gotham. Danny tries to pay attention to it, to listen to the songs that come on, but his focus is completely shot. The noise keeps fading in and out of his ears.

“It’s okay,” Cass says softly. Her fingers skate over the back of his hand, making him jump. He blinks his eyes open to look at her. 

At some point, she’s taken off her seatbelt. Which isn’t safe! She needs to put it back on! 

Danny’s gone through the lessons and powerpoints back in Amity Park, when teachers tried to make sure he and his sister would be better drivers than their parents. Seatbelts help prevent severe injuries in car crashes, and there’s a reason they’re required by law.

Weakly, he shoves her back against the seat. Then he leans forward to reach past her, taking hold of the discarded seatbelt, and fastening it around her again.

“Keep that on,” he says around a gasp, his breath catching in his chest. His voice sounds weak and thready even to his ears, which means its bound to be even more concerning to her and Bruce.

“Do you need me to pull over?” Bruce asks, glancing back at him. “If you’re feeling sick, I can stop until you feel better.”

“No, just keep driving. The sooner we get to wherever it is we’re going, the better.”

Cass is frowning at him when he looks at her, ensuring the seatbelt is still on. “Why?” she asks, pointing at him.

That’s such a vague question! What is he supposed to answer! 

‘Why is he like this?’ ‘Why is he worked up about a seatbelt?’ ‘Why is he a mess?’

The answer to all those questions are the same: he doesn’t know!

The most he can do is offer Cass a weak shrug, so that’s what he does. Cass squints her eyes at him, then grabs his hands and lifts them up to start a clumsy game of patty cake. It quickly becomes apparent that she doesn’t actually know how to play patty cake and is instead clapping their hands together randomly with a look of confusion on her face, so Danny takes over, humming the song under his breath.

It helps distract him from the unreasonable panic of being trapped inside a car. That was probably her intention, but Cass is so focused on keeping up with their steadily quickening game of patty cake that it doesn’t feel like he’s being coddled. It just feels like this is normal, like they’re two kids passing time on a car ride.

Like they could be anyone else. People who are safe. People who haven’t been so hurt.

It’s almost a surprise when the car comes to a stop, Bruce smoothly pulling into a parking space with a reserved sign in front of it.

Danny opens his mouth to ask if it’s really alright that they park there, but can’t say a word before Cass smacks his hands down. When he looks at her, she rubs her fingers together in the universal sign for money and gives him an impish grin.

That’s right, Bruce is rich enough that he can get away with anything. Who cares who that reserved sign is for? Bruce can just buy them a new parking lot. 

That won’t stop the whole thing from leaving a bad taste in his mouth, but at least it’ll be easier to ignore.

Cass hops out the car and skips around the open the door on his side, holding out a hand to help him out. 

He takes it and lets her yank him out of the car. She doesn’t bother waiting for Bruce before dragging Danny into a fancy looking store, the outside all black brick and large, reflective windows. He doesn’t get a chance to see the name of the store, pulled in too fast by Cass’s enthusiasm.

She all but throws open the door, the bell above them ringing merrily, and leads him inside. The dark wood floor and fancy lights immediately make Danny feel out of place. The racks of fancy clothing on display and the mannequins all dressed up in suits of various dark colors only make him feel more like he doesn’t belong in there. 

“Hello, hello, welcome!” calls out an employee. She wears a dark green apron with a notepad tucked into the front pocket and a pin cushion on her wrist. “Are you just browsing today, or do you have an appointment?”

“We have an appointment for Danny,” Bruce answers, somehow appearing behind them. Danny squeezes Cass’s hand to hold back his flinch; he’d really love if the man would make some noise when he moves. 

Did the bell over the door even ring when Bruce came in?

“Great! Follow me, I’ll get you into a fitting room and then let Mr. Brownstein know you’re here.” She leads them through a door near the back of the store, leading to a short hallway with three numbered doors in them. 

They’re given room one, which looks more like a lounge than a fitting room. Beyond the couch and armchairs is a round platform with floor length mirrors surrounding it on three sides. Past that is an area that looks like a large dressing room with only a curtain to separate it from the rest of the room. 

Bruce wastes no time in sitting down on the couch with a low grunt. Apparently not even vigilantism and constant training can save him from old man joints. 

Cass lets go of Danny’s hand to flit around the room, then grabs a few magazines and sits next to Bruce, flipping through them quickly. 

Left on his own, Danny stands near the door awkwardly before he forces himself to join them, sitting on one of the armchairs to keep some space between them. 

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks as soon as Danny’s gotten comfortable.

Danny shrugs. “Fine. Just… not used to this.” He gestures vaguely to everything around them and Bruce nods as if this makes sense.

“I understand that this can be a lot,” he says, “But we’ll do all we can to make things go smoothly for you.”

“Will be normal… time?” Cass adds, looking to Bruce for help.

She signs something and Bruce helpfully supplies, “Eventually.”

“Yes! Even-tu-ally.”

“I don’t know if anyone ever gets used to this. The being rich thing and your hobbies.”

“Plenty of us in the know have had to adjust to this life, you’re not alone in that.”

Danny squints at Bruce. “I highly doubt any of you were normal before doing what you do.”

Bruce opens his mouth to refute that, thinks about it, then closes his mouth and slowly nods. “That is a fair point. What’s normal for Gotham is hardly normal for anyone else.”

“No, no, this is not a Gotham specific thing. This is a Wayne and associates specific thing.”

“You are in that,” Cass says. “Not normal.”

“I think I’ve made it very clear that I am not normal. But I wasn’t insanely rich! That changes things!”

“No,” Cass says firmly, agreeing. “Not normal. Better that way.”

A knock on the door sounds through the room before they can get into it anymore. The door opens just a second later and an old man with heavyset wrinkles, white hair, and a fancy looking black cane with the handle done in gold, enters with a smile.

“Ah, Mr. Wayne, how lovely to see you again.” He’s got the same accent as Alfred, the same even, unflappable tone.

“Davey!” Bruce stands with a grin, his voice turning loud and energetic. It’s such a change from how Danny’s used to seeing him that he can’t do anything but stare at the man in shock. Bruce shakes Davey’s hand in big up and down sweeps, full of cheer.

Gone is the calm, steady, intimidating presence Danny is used to. In its place is some guy with a good attitude and not much else in his head.

“So good to see you again,” Bruce continues, dropping the handshake in favor of patting him on the back. 

“I do hope you haven’t wrecked any of your suits recently. I was hoping to go more than a few months between tailoring new suits for you.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll be happy to know all my suits are in perfect condition! We’re here for someone new, anyways.” 

Taking his cue, Danny stands up and gives a small wave. “Hi,” he says rather weakly.

Davey lights up, striding across the room to take Danny’s hand in his, giving it a vigorous shake. “You must be the boy Alfred’s taken in! Such a pleasure to meet you lad, I’ve heard only good things about you.”

“You know Alfred?”

“Know him? I grew up in the same neighborhood as him in England, and he’s the one who helped me set up shop here in Gotham back in the 80s. I’ve gotten ahead of myself.” He shakes his head and steps back, giving Danny some breathing room. “David Brownstein, at your service.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Brownstein. I’m Danny.”

“Call me David. Any friend of Alfred is a friend of mine. Now, I hear you’re in need of a suit?”

“Yeah, there’s a gala soon and I don’t have anything formal or like… professional to wear to it.”

“Make him pretty!” Cass demands, clapping her hands together in delight. 

David nods to her. “I intend to, Miss Cassandra. Let’s begin, shall we?”

In no time at all, Danny is standing on the round platform in a black suit, trying his best to be as still as possible. He’s stopped breathing completely so he doesn’t accidentally disturb David where he’s pinning his left pant leg to better fit him. The fabric is soft and smooth, higher quality than literally anything else he’s ever worn in his life. 

When he glances into one of the many mirrors around him, he has to admit that he looks good.

To be fair, though, everyone looks good in a suit. 

It’s just so far beyond his normal that it feels like he’s looking at someone else in the mirror. To think that just a few weeks ago, he as a homeless teenager living on the streets with only the clothes on his back. Now he’s getting fitted for a designer suit that probably costs more than his entire college fund.

Bruce left the room at some point and Danny has no idea where he could be. Cass is still around, though she disappears every so often, then pops back in wearing a beautiful dress that she presents to him for his opinion.

Danny gives her a thumbs up every time while also trying to keep his arms still. 

Near the end of his appointment, she walks into the room with a bunch of silk ties in different colors and patterns draped over one arm. She holds up each one in front of her face, looks between the ties and Danny, then either tosses them onto the couch or puts them back on her arm. The ones she keeps on her arms, she yanks at each one, then wraps them around her neck and tries to choke herself with them.

This, apparently, is part of the selection process, and she tosses a few more to the couch. 

He’s… not sure he wants to know why she’s considering which tie would be best to strangle someone with. That’s not a problem Danny has to deal with. It’s not in his job description.

Bruce conveniently reappears once Danny carefully changes back out of the suit. The thought of trying not to disturb the pins or chalk lines is so stressful that Danny just phased out of them once the curtain was drawn, so they’re all as untouched as they can be. 

He passes the suit to David, who leaves quickly with a goodbye tossed over his shoulder to the three of them. Cass hands three ties to Bruce, who stops by the register to get them paid for and packed up before they leave the store. 

They head back to the manor soon after. Danny’s grateful to be done, even as he spends the entire drive with his head between his knees, trying to pretend he’s anywhere else.

“How was it?” Alfred asks once Danny’s joined him in the kitchen to help with dinner. 

“Fine. David was nice. Also, I’m not sure if Cass wants to strangle me or not.”

“She’s like that sometimes,” Alfred says, then smoothly pivots the conversation into a new direction and they both silently decide to move on and pretend everything’s fine.

Eight days before the gala, Damian pops up while Danny’s removing dead leaves from the indoor plants. He hovers over Danny’s shoulder completely silent while Danny works, unaware, until Damian says, “Stop what you’re doing.”

“Shit!” Danny jumps, throwing dead leaves into the air, and goes intangible. His feet sink into the floor before he catches himself and flies up, floating in the air with a hand on his chest to keep his half-dead heart from escaping.

Damian stares at him, unimpressed. He looks at the dead leaves on the ground, then at Danny, and sighs.

“What?” Danny says, flustered. “You scared me! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“It’s hardly my fault you lack awareness of your surroundings.”

“Yeah, whatever. Did you need something?” Danny floats back down to the floor, tangible once again, and kneels down to clean up his mess.

After a moment of brief hesitation, Damian joins him, carefully gathering up the dead leaves closest to him.

Any annoyance Danny has at being scared like that fizzles away instantly with that little gesture. 

Damian is blunt and full of jagged edges, but he’s not unkind. 

“Has anyone shown you the emergency supply caches or escapes routes?”

Danny vaguely recalls Damian mentioning the caches but nothing else. And Danny hasn’t exactly been going out of his way to spend time with anyone but Alfred, who is busy enough teaching him how to handle all his new butler duties. 

He shakes his head, gathering up the very last leaves, the smallest of the bunch, then stands up. Damian follows suit with a disapproving click of his tongue. “I suppose I will have to do it then. Come, let us begin.”

“Woah, wait, we gotta throw these away first!” Danny tries to take the bundle of dead leaves in Damian’s hands from him, but he turns, keeping his hands out of reach with a scowl.

“Fine. You don’t need to do it for me. I’m not incapable of basic tasks.”

That was not at all what he meant by that, but okay! Danny decides to move on from that and dumps the dead leaves into the small trash bag he’s been carrying around for this task. Then he holds it out for Damian to do the same. 

Having taken care of that, Danny has no more excuses and is quickly taken on a trip around the Manor with Damian, who points out all the hidden emergency caches. 

There are so many. If Danny didn’t know about they’re vigilante activities, he would have been convinced that the Waynes were secretly doomsday preppers. 

Some are hidden in panels in the walls. Others beneath floorboards. Some behind large paintings. 

“You must carefully memorize which paintings are emergency caches. There are some paintings within the Manor that lead to secret passageways or panic rooms,” Damian says. 

“How the hell did this place get built that you guys have so many secret, hidden things in it?”

“Very carefully.”

Damian puts a hand on a panel in the wall in the next hallway and pushes against it. The wood falls back and opens silently, revealing a small space with a first aid kit, six gas masks of various sizes, and three tasers. Danny carefully takes note of the location and tries to memorize a few details around the cache so he can find it again later. 

They go through the entire manor, even unused rooms and halls, the attic, and areas that the Wayne family allows outsiders to access when they open their doors. 

Escape routes follow next, but take much less time when Danny reminds Damian that he can just fly out of the Manor whenever he wants. Danny himself is an escape route. Still, he memorizes some that go from the ballroom to the back of the manor in case he needs to evacuate people. 

“Now,” Damian says as they come to a stop in front of the grand staircase in the foyer, “Walk to every emergency cache you can remember.”

“Oh, come on,” Danny groans. “There’s no way I’m going to remember any correctly.”

“Which is why we’re doing this. If we put it off, then you won’t learn until it’s far too late.”

That doesn’t sound too bad, since Danny’s been learning on the fly since the Accident. Half the reason he managed to do what he did as Phantom was because he had no choice but to learn as he went, thrown into fights he wasn’t prepared for. It’s never gone too badly before, and he’s always been able to get out of things relatively fine. 

Then again, Gotham is much more dangerous than Amity Park. It’s not ghosts that are causing the problems here, but living people who have no qualms about killing. Danny rarely ever had to hold back his strength with ghosts; they were already dead, they could take a hit.

But here?

If Danny isn’t careful, he could kill people here. Even if he doesn’t mean too. 

He remembers how strong he felt when stopping that mugger from hurting Alfred. How fragile and small the gangster who attacked him and Dick in the mall felt trapped beneath his foot. 

In Amity Park, Danny was just another ghost.

Here in Gotham, Danny is a monster. 

Damian’s right. It’s better he be prepared so he can act more carefully, have more options at his disposal instead of just working off panicked instinct.

“Alright,” he sighs. “Just don’t be too upset when I can’t find more than one.”

Damian stares him down with hard, serious eyes, but something about the downturn of his lips makes him look more awkward than intimidating. “You are a civilian who has only just begun to learn everything about the Manor. I’m not expecting much from you.”

The words, by themselves, are harsh, but Danny can hear what he really means: You don’t have to get it perfect, you just need to know enough to be safe.

“Okay. Should we start from here?”

Damian nods, and so the roles reverse and Danny leads them around the Manor, trying to remember as many emergency cache locations as possible. He gets more than he expected, around seven correctly and six more with some hesitation and poking around in areas he knows something is hidden, but he’s not 100% sure where.

He expects that to be the end of it, but Damian just nods thoughtfully and takes the lead again, showing Danny all the caches he missed. It takes up the rest of the day, but Alfred didn’t mind when he rushed to the kitchen afterwards to help finish dinner.

The next five days are spent deep cleaning the Manor, mostly in areas where there will be high traffic, and making sure anything Bat related or generally suspicious is hidden away. He doesn’t see the Waynes much at all outside of meals, and even then it’s only Bruce, Damian, and Cass that show up regularly. Everyone else appears at random, no rhyme or reason as to when they decide to sit down to eat with the rest of the family. 

He overhears stern reminders to be careful on patrols, for the Waynes joining Bruce to make sure their clothes are ready and any needed cover stories are made and memorized. The others tease the poor souls forced to host the gala with Bruce, flaunting the fact that they get to go out and patrol like normal instead of pandering to the crowd of deeply annoying elite folk. 

None of what they say make Danny feel any better about having to work the gala.

He tries to channel his nerves into work, always finding something to do in order to keep his mind from wondering about all the things that could go wrong at the gala and spiraling. The giant crystal chandelier in the ballroom is sparkling from how thoroughly Danny’s cleaned it. 

Alfred handles all the logistical tasks, smoothing out last minute hiccups and answering questions from caterers and hired security. The ease with which he works through things has Danny in awe, hoping to one day be as capable as he is. 

Two days before the gala, his suit is delivered to the Manor. Cass somehow gets a hold of it first and ambushes Danny as he walks into the kitchen, holding a basket full of bell peppers and tomatoes. 

“Your suit!” she announces, suddenly in his face as he turns around from closing the door. One of her hands darts out and holds the basket up from the bottom, keeping any of his garden harvest from falling onto the floor as Danny freezes and tries not to jump back and bang his head into the door.

Once she’s sure he’s got his balance back, Cass steps back, presents his suit on a hanger to him, and says again, “Your suit.”

“Thanks, Cass. This couldn’t wait until I wasn’t holding stuff?”

“Nope. Go put it on!”

She smoothly takes the basket from his hands and replaces it with the suit. Then she uses her shoulder to push Danny away from the door and out of the kitchen, ending with a light, playful kick to his back.

Well. He’s no longer making spaghetti, apparently. 

With nothing else to do and no reason to deny Cass, Danny heads off to his room to get changed. He doesn’t quite remember all of Alfred’s instructions on how to put on a suit properly, so he has to look it up on his phone. It’s a long process to lay out the suit in all its pieces and then put them on in order, looking between his phone and the mirror to make sure he’s doing it right.

The only thing he doesn’t have is some sort of necktie. He’s pretty sure butlers wear little black bowties, but that could just be a movie thing. He’s pretty sure it’s what James Bond wears, anyways, which isn’t quite the look he’s going for. 

Once he’s got the suit on as well as he can manage, Danny takes a look at himself in the mirror.

He’s still pretty thin despite his appetite growing and his stomach being able to handle larger, richer meals. There’s a paleness to his skin that will probably always be there, making him look washed out and slightly drowned. His hair is a mess, as it always is, but in the suit, it looks more like a style choice than a consequence of his refusal to touch a hair brush in the mornings when he makes breakfast for himself and Alfred. 

He doesn’t look half bad. 

And the suit is fitted to him perfectly. Nothing is too tight or too loose. Everything falls where it should comfortably. 

Satisfied with his efforts to dress himself properly, Danny gets back to the kitchen to let Cass see him. It’s easier to fly through the walls than make his way down the winding hallways, so that’s what he does, passing by a startled Tim who must have just come up from the Batcave. 

Cass is sitting on the counter when he returns, kicking out her legs idly. She lights up when she spots him and claps her hands together in delight. “Nice!” she says, giving him a thumbs up.

“Thanks. I don’t have a tie or anything, so it’s not really a complete look.”

“We got ties,” she says.

“Uh, when?”

She waves a hand vaguely. “At the store. With your suit.”

Well. Bruce did buy some ties, but Danny hasn’t seen them since so he assumed they weren’t for him. For all he knows, they’re for Cass. She was the one checking them to see how well they could strangle people. He’s not really sure he wants those ties, if they’re going to be used as improvised weapons.

“I didn’t know any of those were mine. I definitely haven’t seen them since we got back.”

“Oh. I forgot.” Cass hops off the counter and says, “Stay here!” Then she’s gone, disappearing back into the depths of the manor.

“Sure, I guess,” Danny replies to no one. He stares forlornly at the basket of bell peppers and tomatoes on the counter. He would get started on the sauce if he could, but he doesn’t trust himself to keep his new and expensive suit clean while he cooks, so all he can do is look longingly at the work he should be doing.

He doesn’t wait as long as he expected to. Cass must have made use of those hidden passageways scattered all along the Manor to get back to him so quickly, three ties in hand. Or she’s just fast. One or the other.

“Here!” she says, presenting them to him. 

Danny looks them over, reaching out to feel them. They must be made of silk for how soft and smooth they are. 

One of the ties is a deep blue color with gold thread providing some embellishments. Another is a simple red, one solid color. 

It’s the last tie that holds Danny’s attention. Black with silver thread stars and planets and celestial bodies, carefully placed on the length of the tie. He’s never thought much about ties, much less about their designs, but he’s obsessed with this one. It’s perfect for him.

Cass must clock his interest in the last tie. She tosses the other two over her shoulder, then reaches out to flip his collar up. The tie goes around his neck and she ties it loosely, clearly unsure of how to properly tie it, but doing her best anyways.

Once done, she looks it over before she nods, satisfied. “Good.”

Danny looks down to lift up one lopsided end of the knot she’s made with the tie. “Thanks, Cass. This one’s great. Can I ask why you tested these three for strangling capabilities?”

She shakes her head. “Not for harming,” she explains. 

“Uh… strangling is very harmful. And that’s definitely what it looked like to me.”

She shakes her head again, stronger. With one hand, she takes one of the ties on her shoulder and loops it around her neck. “Picked the ones that won’t be bad. Hard to hurt with these. Try.” And Cass offers one end of her makeshift tie noose to Danny.

He stares. “No, thanks.”

“I’ll do it then.”

“Don’t!”

Cass grins at him, all teeth and challenge. “Stop me.”

And she yanks with all her strength, harder than she did at the tailor’s, genuinely trying to strangle herself with this silk tie. Danny chokes on his breath and scrambles to stop her, grabbing her wrist and struggling to pry the tie out of her fist. She doesn’t let him stop her, pulling harder, her grip iron and unmovable.

Danny, in a moment of panic, shoves his fingers between the tie and her throat, creating space, then makes the tie go intangible, finally freeing it from her grasp. 

“Please,” he begs, “Do not try to kill yourself in front of me.”

“Woah, what?” Tim asks, having chosen the absolute worst time to walk into the kitchen.

Cass waves at him. “Testing,” she says, pointing at the tie, the wraps her hands around her neck and mimes being strangled to death.

“Oh. I see.” Based on the way Tim is blinking at them, befuddled, he definitely doesn’t see. “Why silk ties? Those are the worst for strangulation. They slip too much.”

Danny stares down at the tie he liberated from Cass’s grasp. Slowly, he wraps on end around his wrist, ties it off, then pulls with what’s left of the tail. 

Sure enough, the tie slips along his wrist and against itself. It still pulls tight, but not as strongly as he thought it would.

So this is what Cass meant when she said these were safe. The ties she chose must be what she decided were least capable of strangling him.

It’s actually kind of sweet that she went out of her way to find something specifically so it wouldn’t be used to hurt him too much. As strange as the whole process was, he can’t deny that he’s touched by the effort she put into this.

“Unless that’s the point,” Tim continues, looking between the two of them. “Nice suit, Danny, you look great. Have you figured out where to hide weapons in it yet?”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“In case you get attacked. Always a risk at galas.”

“Are the rich people going to attack me or something?”

“No, no! Probably. But that many rich people in once place, especially in Wayne Manor, makes the gala a huge target for anyone wanting to rob us or take someone for ransom. But maybe be wary of the rich people too, there’s some really creepy old guys that are somehow still kicking.”

“Great,” Danny says weakly, “That’s exactly what I want to hear.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be able to keep you safe. So, weapons?”

“I don’t think I need any. I have powers, remember?”

“And you can fight with them?” Tim presses.

“Fighting’s all I’ve ever really done with them, so yes.”

“I’ll take your word for it then. But remember, plenty of us will be there in case anything goes wrong, and we’ll have plenty of security around. I’m sure the gala will go fine.”

Cass points an accusing finger at Tim. “Jinx!”

He winces. “Ah. Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have said that. My bad.”

“Well, as long as I don’t have to fight rich people,” Danny tries to joke, only to blanch when Tim moves his hand in a ‘maybe-so’ back and forth motion. “I don’t have to fight rich people, right? I thought we already agreed on that!”

“You probably don’t have to fight rich people,” Tim corrects, “But there was a cult situation years ago. Like, when I was in elementary school, but B took care of it so it’s not a problem anymore. Not that it would stop them from making more cults, but we haven’t seen any recently. So.”

Danny stares at him, a little horrified. “Man, what the hell is Gotham?”

Tim and Cass snicker, as if this isn’t the reality they grew up in. “Don’t worry,” Tim says, “You’ll get used to it soon enough.”

“Ancients help me when that day comes,” Danny mutters.

He leaves them to steal snacks from the kitchen as he changes back out of the suit and is graced with their company as he makes two pots worth of spaghetti, smacking their hands with a wooden spoon when they try to sneak a taste of the sauce. 

And then, suddenly, the day of the gala of here. Danny can only hope it doesn’t end too terribly.

. . .

“The first guests will likely arrive around seven in the evening,” Alfred says as they make their final rounds to ensure the ballrooms and sitting rooms are all ready for the elite of Gotham. “Preparations will begin at noon. Security will arrive first. They have all received instructions onto where they should be. Be on the look out for anyone going to places closed to the private; we have had many people in the past be bribed to steal from us while had them employed for an event.”

“What should I do if I do find someone out of place?”

“First, try to escort them back to where they should be. If they resist, then do whatever you deem necessary.”

“And when you say ‘anything necessary,’ does that include…”

Alfred stops to look Danny directly in the eyes as he firmly says, “Anything.” And then continues walking as if that didn’t just happen. Danny hurries to follow, putting into practice his newest, most important skill of moving right on past that shit.

“Tables and chairs for the ballroom will arrive at one. I’ve printed out the layout they need to be placed in. The rental company has a copy of these instructions, so all you need to do is oversee the set up. Catering will arrive at five to set up, cook, and have food out and ready for guests.”

“Do I have to greet any of the guests?”

“Not at all. Master Bruce has that responsibility. I will be taking care of coats and bags for guests. I will need you to direct cars to the drop off point in front of the ballroom entrance.”

“Everyone’s being dropped off?”

“That is correct. You don’t need to worry about arranging rides for anyone, as that is something they have to do themselves.”

Okay. Cool. It’s still stressful, still a lot that Danny has to be in charge of, but it’s not as overwhelming as he thought it would be. Alfred hasn’t given him too much to do, and all of it is easy enough for him to take care of with his current skill levels. As long as no guests come up to him demanding he do stuff for them, he should be fine.

They split up after they leave the ballroom to put up the velvet ropes that will hopefully keep people from wandering into places they aren’t allowed to be. From what he’s heard, it shouldn’t be a problem except with particularly drunk guests. The Wayne family is big and important in Gotham, enough so that any and all guests will be careful to be respectful while attending the gala. 

Danny double checks the list he was given of where to place the rope barriers, double checking that he got all of them. 

After that, it’s a flurry of tasks to be completed, last minute details to fix, and preparing lunch for everyone so no one goes hungry until the gala begins.

In no time at all, security arrives and Danny is tasked with directing them to their positions, helping them review their routes to keep the venue safe. It’s off putting to be the one listened to when he’s so much younger than everyone, but none of the hired security guards act like anything’s out of the ordinary while with him. It’s probably just in his own head, but it still feels wrong.

Tables and chairs arrive after that, and Danny helps them get to where they need to be placed. He helps with moving some of the tables as well, putting his enhanced strength to good use so the other workers don’t have to struggle so much. Tablecloths are set out, carefully smoothed of wrinkles. Floral centerpieces follow.

There’s only one near miss with two workers crashing into each other and the centerpiece—with its glass vase—goes flying amid the horrified gasps of the others. Danny had just managed to catch it in time, moving on instinct honed from years of ghost fights.

The relief on everyone’s faces helped him feel more at ease working with them.

By the time they’re done and everything is where it should be, properly put together, the catering arrives, bringing with them another flurry of movement and energy.

Danny lets himself get swept up in it, helping where he can. He almost doesn’t notice how late it’s gotten until Alfred appears at the entrance to the ballroom and looks at him expectantly. 

Everything is as set up as it could be. The rest of the staff are now to act as waiters, basically, carting around drinks and finger foods for the elite. Danny will just get underfoot if he stays.

He leaves with a quick goodbye and is waved off by more people than he expected. 

Alfred falls into step with him as they make their way to the servant’s quarters to get changed into the gala suits. Before they part ways to go into their own rooms, Alfred gently claps a hand against Danny’s back.

“Well done,” he says warmly when Danny looks at him. He looks proud of Danny, so proud that it makes Danny’s eyes well up with tears he hurries to dash away. 

“Thanks!” he returns with a bright smile, and ducks into his room to try to get his emotions under control before he has to meet a bunch of rich people with red eyes and tear tracks on his face.

To think he can be undone so easily with just two words.

Jazz would probably have a whole lot to say about that. He misses her psychoanalyzing annoying big sister attitude so badly it hurts, a wound that will never heal. He hopes she’s doing alright wherever she is now. He’s ruined enough of her life, he’d like it if his disappearance doesn’t hurt her too much.

Taking in a deep breath, Danny shoves away all thoughts of home and family. He needs to focus. He’s here to do a job. He needs to make sure the gala goes smoothly.

Step one of that plan is to put on his suit and fix his hair so he looks more put together and less on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

He completes step one more or less successful. The only thing he can’t do is knot his tie nicely, and no video tutorials he watches really helps. With the time limit he’s on, Danny just gives up and decides to ask Alfred for help.

Alfred is already in the hallway waiting for him when Danny opens his door. He holds up his tie with a sheepish smile. “So, I don’t actually know what to do with this…?”

Alfred’s eyes soften and he waves Danny over. “Allow me.” 

He takes the tie from Danny’s hands and flips up his collar. With clean, precise movements, he has the tie around Danny’s neck and neatly knotted into what is probably a fancy shape that Danny will never be able to recreate. Then his collar is smoothed down again by Alfred’s hands, which quickly move to straighten out the lapels of his suit. 

“There we are,” he says. “And look at you now: a proper butler of the Wayne family.”

A warmth settles deep in his chest. There’s joy, rising on strong wings, that sweeps through him. 

He’s still an apprentice.  He still has so much to learn. But tonight, he will go out as the future butler of the Wayne family. That is how this world will know him. Alfred has carved out a place in this foreign dimension just for him, and finally Danny feels like he can take it, settle in, finally belong here beyond just a charity case taken in from the streets.

“Are you ready to work your first official event?”

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Danny replies, standing taller. 

“I’m glad to hear it. And Danny, if you ever need a break, you can hide away in the kitchen for as long as you need. I’ll be sure to join you in there eventually.”

“Got it!” And then, softer, “Thanks, Alfred.”

“But of course, Danny. Tonight will be busy. It may even be overwhelming. But I will be there for you should you ever need me.”

Danny nods, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn’t start crying. He had been doing so good too! But Alfred’s honest words always throw him off balance. 

He has no defense against Alfred’s kindness. That’s how he ended up here in the first place. Pulling himself together with nothing but stubbornness and sheer will power, Danny lets out a steady breath, then starts walking. Alfred joins him as they return to the ballroom and gives him one more pat on the back before splitting off to tend to his own gala duties.

Left alone in the ballroom, surrounded by the bustle of staff finishing up their last minute tasks, Danny takes in the glittering opulence of the place; this isn’t the warm, lived in Wayne Manor full of history and family and comfort. This is cold and sharp, all gold and bright lights, a stage for false personalities and masks to take the spotlight for the night.

A group of musicians in the back of the ballroom fill the air with the sound of strings and flutes as they tune their instruments and prepare to play for hours on end. 

Food is set up and serving stations all have someone behind them, standing with their hands behind their back as they wait for the first guests to trickle in.

It’s nearly seven. Danny hurries outside, ready to wave drivers towards him, directing them down the gravel path that branches off from the main driveway that goes to the front door of Wayne Manor. It takes barely a few minutes before he sees the first headlights make their way down the makeshift road. 

Danny waves a hand in the air and the driver stops right in front of him. An old couple dressed lavishly get out of the car and stand together, arm in arm.

“Oh, who’s this?” the old woman coos, looking at him. 

Danny gives her a tight smile. “Hello, and welcome! I’m Danny, the apprentice butler to the Wayne family.”

“How darling,” she says, pressing a hand against her chest. “It’s been too long since I’ve met a young man like you learning the art of butling. Why, my own family had an apprentice back when I was in college, and he went off to serve a family in Spain that was closely related to the Spanish royal family.”

“That’s cool,” Danny replies, trying to hide how awkward he feels. “I think I’m going to stay with the Wayne family, though. I’m not that ambitious.”

“Waynes are close to royals in Gotham. They’re the most important family in the city. Why, I remember when Martha and Thomas were killed in Park Row. It was a dark day for us all…”

Woah, what? That’s the first time he’s heard of any murders happening in the Wayne family.

Some of his shock must shown on his face, as the old couple suddenly look more engage, more eager to talk to him.

“Why don’t you escort us in, son,” the old man says, “And we’ll tell you about it was we walk.” 

The couple begin to slowly walk to the Manor, slow with age though they still hold themselves tall. Danny falls in step with them and the man begins to weave a tale about a much younger Bruce Wayne and the parents who loved him so dearly, and how the sudden, tragic loss of them rocked the world.

Danny doubts he ever would have found out about this on his own. And he certainly won’t have known the impact the Waynes have had on Gotham. The fact that their lives and deaths mold the city is a heavy realization.

The couple keep him at the door to the ballroom for a few minutes to wrap up their story. Danny glances out over the grounds every so often to make sure there aren’t any headlights in the distance coming his way until they thank him for the escort and go inside, leaving him to wait for more guests.

He never really thought about why the Waynes go out each night as vigilantes. It’s dangerous, thankless work and no one would do it without a reason.

He can see, suddenly, a young Bruce, just a child, suddenly lost and adrift in a world that murdered his parents. He can see that child decide to fight back in any way he can. He can see Batman rise from the heart of that child and swear to prevent anyone else from experiencing the pain he had to survive. 

And he can see Alfred standing behind that boy, carrying his own grief as he takes care of a child who grows up ready to throw his life away for a cause far greater than himself. 

How they can bear it?

Danny is both the one who left and the one left behind, running from his parents just as they turned their backs on him, and it destroyed him. He’s only just now building himself back up again, feeling more stable and steady despite the hole in his heart that will never close. At least he got the privilege of starting fresh in this dimension. Bruce and Alfred had to grow around the loss that is embedded into the city.

He really doesn’t know much about them, he realizes. This is the first time he’s really considered their histories. 

Maybe Alfred will be willing to talk to him about it later. 

With those thoughts heavy on his mind, it’s hard from him to be fully focused as he directs cars to stop before him one by one. More guests in fancy suits and elegant dresses step out and walk into the ballroom, only a few bothering to greet him as they go. His mind keeps drifting as he pastes on a smile and waves to drivers as they leave.

He stays outside for another hour before the last of the cars leave. The gala is in full swing when he ducks inside, sticking to the walls as Gotham’s richest mingle together in the ballroom. The low murmur of voices fill the air alongside the music, high strings playing a soft melody to fill the background as people wander around with glasses of champagne in hand, nibbling on finger foods.

Bruce is the center of attention, smiling jovially in a dark blue suit, the first two buttons of his silk shirt undone. 

It’s hard to see him as a once grieving child, full of rage and determination, ready to take on the world. Bruce as he is now looks like a perfect socialite, surrounded by a small crowd of people all vying for his attention as he talks loudly, gesturing with broad movements, keeping their attention. 

Tim is hanging off to the side near the musician, talking to a small group of people his age. They all look more relaxed and down to earth than any of the older people, so perhaps there’s hope for the next generation of Gotham’s high society.

Danny wanders a bit to make sure everything’s going well, checking in with the other staff members to see if there’s anything he can help with. But they have everything under control, so he can do nothing but try not to mess with the sleeves of his suit as he keeps circling the ballroom.

On his third circuit, Tim breaks away from his group and weaves around other guests to smoothly reach him.

“Is Damian here?” he asks, eyes darting around the ballroom.

Danny frowns. “I haven’t seen him. Did he come in with you?”

“He did, and then he left us as soon as we had greeted most of the guests. He’s supposed to stay out here for a few more hours, and I told him to just stick with me.”

“Where do you think he’s gone?”

Tim sighs, lowering his voice a bit. “He could be anywhere, honestly. He hates galas, which I get, but we needed him here because he’s Bruce’s bio kid. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if Damian went downstairs to get away.”

If Damian ditched the gala to go punch criminals, that would be bad, to say the least.

“I’ll go look for him,” Danny says. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I can get him back up here.”

“Thanks, Danny. I gotta get back to it. Also,” Tim adds in a whisper, “Don’t worry if Bruce seems like a different person or super drunk. He’s really good at acting.”

“Okay…?” 

Danny’s not really sure what that has to do with him, but he appreciates the heads up anyways. He’s been excusing all of Bruce’s weirdness as either ‘Batman-related’ or ‘none of his business’, so he’s fine ignoring whatever Bruce gets up to tonight as well.

Now that he has a task to complete, Danny gladly leaves the ballroom to find Damian. 

He starts off checking the sitting rooms, which already have a few of the guests lounging in, drinking wine and gossiping. The other areas that guests can access are all Damian-free, which is about what he expected. 

Danny moves on past the rope barriers, nodding to some of the security guards walk by on their patrol, ensuring no guests, invited or otherwise, go deeper into the Manor. 

The kitchen is empty. As are the living rooms on the ground floor. 

Maybe Damian’s in his bedroom? Or his art studio. Those are the only two other places Danny would think to find Damian that’s not the Batcave. 

He just really doesn’t want to go down there again. Especially not on his own.

Just as he reaches the top of the stairs to the second floor, Danny sees someone walking down the hall. It’s not Damian, far too tall to be a teenage boy, and they’re moving slowly, looking around as if searching for something.

“Hey!” Danny calls out to them, striding towards them quickly. “You’re not supposed to be up here.”

They turn, and Danny recognizes the uniform for the security guards that are meant to be at their positions around the ballroom. This man has taken off his jacket, leaving him in a simple button down shirt and dark pants, a gun tucked into a hostler by his hip. 

“Oh, sorry, I thought I heard something up here and went to check it out.”

“This is pretty far from the ballroom. It would be hard to hear anything here from where you were supposed to be. Wanna try that one again?”

The easygoing smile on the guard’s face disappears, replaced by a dark scowl and a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Listen kid, this will be easier for all of us if you just walk away now. Don’t make me do anything you’ll regret.” He puts his hand on the holster. The threat is clear.

But Danny’s had guns pointed at him from years. He’s dodged shots from his own parents. One guy isn’t going to scare him.

“It would be easier if you just went back to you post and did the job you were paid to do.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m doing exactly what I was paid to do.” He grins, sharp and mean, and pulls out his gun.

Okay! Great!

Danny’s not nice anymore. And Alfred already gave him permission to do anything he deems necessary.

In a blink, Danny’s closed the distance between them and tosses the man over his shoulder. He kicks the gun out of his hand and is about to try to flip him over so he can put the guard in a shoulder pin, but a knee slams into his stomach, knocking the breath out of him.

Danny wheezes and is kicked back, stumbling to keep his balance. The guard rises to his feet and lunges forward, throwing a straight punch. It’s easy enough to dodge it, ducking to the side and stepping closer to try to knock the guard down again, but he pulls his arm back a bit, bends it, and slams his elbow into Danny’s face.

Pain races through his skull as he falls back, hands flying up to his nose. It’s probably broken, already gushing blood, and it stains his teeth as he bares them in a snarl and grabs hold of his ghost powers.

Teeth sharpen into fangs. His eyesight gets sharper, the iron taste of blood stronger in his mouth, and icy fog wafts out of his mouth. 

“The fuck—” is all the guard is able to say before Danny tackles him. The force of it knocks them both to the ground, the guard’s head hitting the floor hard. He tries to force Danny off of him again, but Danny holds tight, blood still dripping off his face. “No one said the Waynes has a fucking meta with them!”

“Bad luck,” Danny says, a growl turning his voice into a low rumble, staticky even to his own ears, and the guard pales. 

All it takes is one hand to lift him but his shirt, the fabric of it held tight in his hands. And then Danny slams him back against the ground, making his head bounce, and the guard is out cold. 

He means to drag the guard someplace where he can be locked away until someone can deal with him, but screams rise up from the ballroom, stealing away his attention.

Shit, something must have happened!

As much as he wants to go racing back to help, his priority is Damian. 

The other guests will be protected by the guards (hopefully) and Bruce and Tim. But Damian is unaccounted for, and the longer Danny can’t find him, the more danger he’ll be in.

There’s no point in being discrete or quiet now. Danny runs down the hallway, shouting Damian’s name. 

He doesn’t get any response.

His nose throbs with dull pain each step he takes. His suit is a lost cause, covered in his blood and rumpled from the fight. None of that matters at all as he races down the halls, trying to find Damian.

Distantly, he hears gunshots and more screaming from the ballroom. 

Danny grits his teeth and gives up on running entirely to fly recklessly through walls, dreading every second that passes. 

The second floor is empty, save for the prone figure of the guard lying in the hallway near the stairs. He doesn’t have time to search any higher floors, so Danny goes back down to the ground floor, hoping that the noise from the ballroom would have drawn Damian out. He’s bound to have heard it, wherever he is in the Manor.

He drops back down to this feet and pushes his ghostliness away as he draws closer to the ballroom, wary of running into someone. It doesn’t seem like any of the guests had been able to get out of the ballroom. 

Every so often, there’s a single gun shot. The sound chills him to the bone.

Just as he’s getting closer to the open areas of the Manor, within the rope boundaries he set up with Alfred earlier, he hears a noise in a sitting room that makes him slow to a stop, listening intently. It’s a soft noise, at first. Just a few clinks of objects being moved. Then there are heavy footsteps moving slowly. 

Whoever it is can’t be Damian. He would never be so loud when he walks. 

The door is partially open, so Danny peeks in to see who it is.

It’s not a guard. It’s not any member of the staff that arrive to work the gala. 

In front of a broken window is a large man with a dark orange bandana tied around his nose and mouth, obscuring the bottom half of his face. He’s twitchy, pacing back and forth unsteadily, mumbling to himself. When he turns, the light catches on a glint in his eyes, the same drugged sheen that’s been present with other people who have attacked members of the Wayne household. 

Danny plans to creep in and knock him out so there’s one less person to worry about when a large hand grabs the back of his suit and lifts him up like he weighs nothing. A startled noise slips out of his mouth, making the man in the room whirl around, glaring at him.

“Caught a peeper!” announces the man holding up Danny. He’s large, bigger than a bodybuilding, like the one Danny fought in the mall. “Think Boss will give us more Venom if we drag this thing in?”

The other guy looks over Danny consideringly. “Nah. Bring him here. We can deal with him on our own.”

The not-body building walks into the room, unbothered by how Danny struggles in his hold, kicking out at the air. 

Danny’s thrown unceremoniously onto the floor, where he turns into a roll and gets back up to his feet, carefully keeping both of them in his line sight.

“Oooh, he thinks he’s a fighter,” not-body builder cackles. 

Danny glances at the door. 

“Don’t even think about running,” the first man says. “You work here, don’t you? Why don’t you tell us all about the goodies we can steal from this place. Make us rich and I’ll let you walk away alive.”

All this just for a robbery?

The guns, the break in, the violence, just for a robbery?

That’s fucking insulting. 

Danny checks the open door one more time to make sure no one’s coming their way, then launches himself at not-body builder. His ghost strength comes rushing back into him just as he hits, sending the not-body builder stumbling back with a surprised shout. He wobbles, trying to keep his balance, then falls.

He doesn’t waste a second before kicking his head and knocking him out. 

That’s one down.

Danny takes a deep breath, trying to wrestle down his strength so he doesn’t accidentally do serious damage to the other man, who is much smaller, only to gasp, breath punched out of him. A sharp pain tears through his back, which was left open to the other intruder.

Stupid, stupid! he berates himself, trying to get away. 

But the man holds him still with a hand on his shoulder, and Danny, in his panic, goes intangible.

The knife and the man’s arm go right through his torso.

Danny looks down at the knife. Looks at the arm. Both of them are frozen from this sudden turn of events.

His mind goes blank and he desperately tries to think of what to do when an idea parades itself to the front of him mind, to say: IMPROV.

“What the hell did you do to me?!” Danny cries out, putting as much terror into his voice as possible. 

“What did I  do?” the intruder sputters, pulling back. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Yes you did!” Danny argues. “I’m fucking air! You made me not-solid!”

“That wasn’t me!”

Taking a chance, Danny recalls what the guard upstairs said, and says, “You’re a meta?!”

“I’m not!” the intruder denies, “I didn’t do this to you!”

Danny spins around to face him, trying not to wince when the movement pulls at his back. “Fix this!”

“I can’t! I told you, I didn’t do it! This must be your doing!”

“I think I would know if I could turn into air,” Danny refutes, channelling Paulina to give him a withering look that will, hopefully, make him feel small and stupid. She always was great at digging her heels in and driving people mad with her stubbornness while tearing down their self esteem. He tosses his head back to glare at the intruder, meeting his eyes. “This is clearly your fault so fix it!”

They’re just going back and forth, thrown off their rhythm and scrambling to work though the situation Danny created for them. He doesn’t know how to put a stop to it. He really doesn’t want to be stabbed again.

“I really didn’t do it!” the intruder insists. He looks down at his own hands, faltering. “Right? There’s no way that could have been me…”

He doesn’t get any more time to contemplate whether or not he has powers because his body abruptly tenses, twitches sporadically, and then his eyes roll up and he passes out.

Behind him, holding a taser and wearing a deep scowl, is Damian.

Danny is so relieved to see him that he feels weak in the knees. The blood loss is not helping with that matter. “Damian!” he says, “Where were you? I’ve been looking for you!”

“I felt that something was off so I went to investigate. I found some of the guards marking areas around the ballroom as entries for the gang that’s taken over the ballroom. I was trying to take them out before this happened, but I wasn’t fast enough.”

“What is going on right now?”

“From what I heard when I traversed the vents above the ballroom, the leader of a recently established gang has taken over to take the valuables of all the guests. He is recreating Venom and trying to replace Bane.” Damian shakes his head. “That fool is just going to get himself killed. Bane will stop at nothing to have his head now.”

“I take it this Bane person is a big deal?”

Danny purses his lips, then looks away. “We’ll catch you up on the villains around here later. Come with me, there are others still around.”

“Are we going to the ballroom?”

“No. Black Bat and Nightwing are already here to take care of it. They’re just waiting for an opening. We will be taking out the intruders outside the ballroom, then going to the Batcave to join Pennyworth.”

Damian tries to take hold of Danny’s wrist, but his hand goes right through. He stares down at it in shock, as though he was betrayed.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Danny drops his intangibility and pats Damian’s hand to let him know he’s solid again.

Damian looks up at him and squints. “Are you alright? You’re bleeding.”

Danny brings a hand up to his face. It’s clean of blood. He must have let it all fall off of him when he went intangible, but his nose is still bleeding and it’s quickly rolling down his face again. He can feel his back get more wet, too, the stab wound steadily pulsing with pain, blood spreading through his suit.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Danny says. He’s survived way worse than a broken nose and a small stab wound. There are people in danger and people trying to hurt them. That takes priority over him, any day.

“Your nose?”

Danny shrugs. “Probably not broken?”

Damian reaches out and prods at his nose, checking it. It brings up flares of dull pain, but it’s not enough that Danny can’t stay still during this. In a matter of seconds, Damian nods and pulls his hands away, so the damage to his face probably isn’t anything to worry about. Danny’s going to trust Damian on this one.

“Very well. Let’s go then. And take this.” Damian holds out his taser to Danny.

“Um. Don’t you need it?”

“I am more than capable of taking people down without weapons. You need this more than I do.”

That’s fair. Danny gingerly takes the taser, keeping his thumb above the switch that will flip it on and have it buzzing with electricity. He follows Damian’s lead as they creep down the hall, staying low and quiet on their feet. Damian keeps in the lead, checking that it’s safe to move before signaling for Danny to follow. 

They take out three more intruders before the lights in the Manor flicker and then go out. Noise swells up in the ballroom before another gunshot silences it.

Danny tenses, fearing the worst, but Damian reaches back to squeeze his hand and whisper, “It’s alright. That was the moment Black Bat and Nightwing were waiting for. They’ll take care of it.”

When he strains his hearing, he can just pick out the shattering of glass and muffled cries of pain. He doesn’t hear anyone’s voices, but as long as no one is screaming, it’s fine. Probably. He hopes, anyways.

They circle around the ballroom, checking room and hallways, but it seems that most of the intruders didn’t bother hanging around out here when all their targets were conveniently in one large room. Having cleared out all the intruders they could, Damian leads them to Bruce’s office.

“What are we doing here?” Danny asks, keeping his voice low as he keeps one eye on the door to ensure no one comes in.

“We’re going to the Batcave,” Damian answers absentmindedly as he fiddles with a grandfather clock behind a desk.

Danny blinks. “Wait, we go in from here?”

“Look.” Danny looks to where Damian has opened up the grandfather clock to reveal a dark staircase that leads down, deep beneath the Manor.

“Huh,” is all Danny can say to that. It’s definitely safer than just falling through the floor like Danny did, but somehow it feels a little anticlimactic. It’s just stairs. It’s very hard to make stairs cool.

They could have at least put in a fire pole. 

A giant underground vigilante cave and not a single fire pole to slide down on? What’s the point then?

Danny holds back a sigh, then grimaces at the heavy taste of blood in his mouth. His nose isn’t hurting as much anymore, just a dull throb, and it’s easily ignored when his back flares with pain with each minute movement. He looks down at the stairs as Damian begins his descent, already wincing at how much it’s going to stuck going down them with a stab wound. 

He could really use that fire pole right now.

Or, actually, why bother taking the stairs? Danny’s half-ghost. It needs to be good for something.

Danny promptly goes ghost, flies down into the cave completely invisible and intangible, then drops back to the ground in a quick flash of light, human again. He intends to stand up and wait where there’s more light, but his head suddenly spins as his vision goes dark. There’s a buzzing in his ears and he gets a strange, floating feeling, as if he’s no longer in his body, just drifting out into open air. 

The floor is cold against his cheek. The floor is…

The floor?

Danny blinks his eyes open, wondering when he closed them. It takes a moment to realize that he’s lying down, somehow, on his back in some dark corner of the cave. There’s a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.

He tries to say something but his voice dies halfway out of his throat. A few more blinks has his eyes clearing enough that he can see Damian crouched in front of him, looking over his head, mouth moving as he speaks, though Danny can’t hear anything. His ears are still ringing. 

The world sways around him.

He closes his eyes trying to count his breaths so the world will feel more solid around him. Wayne Manor just got attacked. Now is not the time to be lying around.

But he can’t force himself to get up. His body refuses to respond to him. All he can do is lie on the floor of the cave, trying to get his head to stop spinning, feeling the heat of the wound in his back as it presses against cold stone. 

Arms wind around him, lifting him up, and Danny whines as it jostles him. More blood spills out of his stab wound, soaking his suit even more. Distantly, he hears someone curse as he’s moved into a more brightly lit area. It’s too bright, even with his eyes closed, and Danny turns his face, trying to hide from it. 

A hand runs through his hair, soothing him. He’s carefully set down on something—a bed?

So they can have soft, high quality beds in their vigilante cave, but no fire poles. The Waynes need to get their priorities straight.

He tries to say something about that, but just mumbles out some slurred, nonsense sounds.

Someone hushes him kindly. The hand keeps brushing his hair back soothingly.

And then—

His shirt.

They’re opening his shirt.

They’re taking off his jacket.

Danny is laid out, helpless, held down, and they’re stripping him of his clothes. Terror slams into him like a train, ice in his veins chilling him from the inside out. His eyes snap open and his  blurry vision catches sight of two heads bend down over him, features dark and unrecognizable, backlit by the light shining too brightly right above his face.

His breath stutters in his chest as he stares at them, horrified and betrayed.

What are they doing to him?!

Panicked, Danny beings to thrash, adrenaline surging through it. It dulls his pain, lifts the lead from his limbs, makes him gather enough strength to try to push them away. More hands appear, trying to hold him down and a hoarse scream tears out of his throat. It doesn’t have any power, can’t throw them away from him, and stutters to a stop a few seconds later. 

“No!” he cries, tears leaking out of his eyes. “No, stop! Don’t, please don’t do this to me…”

A sob catches in his chest so hard is hurts. 

The people above him speak over each other, their words melding together. He doesn’t know what they’re saying, just that they’re speaking, but it does nothing to calm him down.

How can he be calm?

They’re trying to cut him open.

He tries to go ghost and his entire body lights up in pain, back arching off the bed as he screams again. 

The lights go out. The hands disappear. 

The world goes still.

Danny heaves for breath, shivering. 

It takes a long time before he feels solid again. Less likely to shake out of his own body. He doesn’t know what just happened. He should be able to go full ghost, but he entire body refused. It hurt and hurt and hurt and he doesn’t understand why.

It’s not just a failure of his powers, but a betrayal.

Slowly, he begins to breathe evenly. His entire body still hurts, but it’s the pain of a bruise, not an electric current running through the whole of him. The world steadies itself and his vision clears up properly.

Something cold touches his hand.

Danny flinches back, then looks up to see Alfred. 

Alfred, who’s aged face is lined with deep concern. Who stands just close enough to hold out the water bottle to Danny. Who doesn’t crowd him or demand answers. 

Alfred, who is safe.

Without thinking about it, Danny sags towards him. Alfred has to step closer, steady him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Danny, my boy,” he says, “Can you hear me now?”

Now? Was Alfred speaking earlier? 

Danny nods, blinking up at him.

“Wonderful. Do you think you could drink some water?”

Another nod. He looks down at the water bottle and its unsealed cap, then his own trembling hands. He doesn’t think he can open it.

Before he can ask Alfred for help, another hand appears in his line of sight, from the other side of the bed. Damian grabs the water bottle and twists it open, then shoves it into Danny’s hands with a click of his tongue.

He doesn’t let go until he’s sure Danny has a solid grip on it.

Danny tries to thank him, but his throat clicks from how sore and dry it is. He drinks half the bottle in one go, clears his throat, and is able to say, “Sorry about that.”

“There’s no need to be sorry,” Alfred says, just as Damian says, “If you’re sorry, then take off your shirt so we can tend to you. You’re injured.”

Alfred turns to Damian with a severe look on his face and Danny hurries to intervene before things can get messy. Or, messier. 

“Right. Sorry. Again. It’s not a big deal, it’s just a small stab wound.”

“A stab wound?” Alfred repeats. “Danny, please let me tend to it. It may need stitches.”

“It doesn’t—”

“You don’t know that,” Damian hisses. “Let Pennyworth help you, or I’ll do it myself. And you won’t like it if I do it myself.”

Danny is ready to refuse again, but the clear concern in Alfred’s eyes stops him. 

He does need help. He doesn’t want to cause trouble for Alfred.

“Fine,” he bites out. “But don’t—don’t touch me if you can avoid it and don’t ask any question.” He doesn’t give himself a chance to second guess, just pulls at his shirt and suit coat, going intangible to get it off him without lifting his arms. Strangely, that doesn’t hurt the way trying to go full ghost did. 

Something to consider later.

The silence that follows is heavy. Danny can’t stand it; he wants to hide away, to rewind the last hour so he can undo what he’s just done, pretend he’s still fine. All his scars are on display. The arcs of electricity from the Accident that have embedded themselves into his skin, close calls from ghost fights that were bad enough to leave a mark in his human form, the burns from his parents inventions locking onto him before he was able to deactivate them.

Alfred lets out a slow breath. Then he says, “Master Damian, if you could get—”

“Of course.” And Damian is up and moving, the light above him turning on. It’s much dimmer than it was before.

“If you could please turn around, Danny. I need to see what I’m working with.”

Danny forces himself to turn, showing his back to Alfred. He’s tense, every inch of him ready to run. 

It’s Alfred, he tells himself sternly. Alfred won’t hurt him. He’s safe.

Damian returns, handing something off to Alfred. He can hear them move, hear things being prepped behind him, metal against metal, and another sliver of terror runs down his spine.

“Stop,” he says without meaning to. 

The cave goes quiet again, both Damian and Alfred freezing. Danny swallows roughly, then turns back to face them. “I can’t,” he chokes out. “I can’t—I need—I need to be able to see you.”

“Then I’ll do your stitches,” Damian announces. He rounds the bed, snapping on a pair of latex gloves. “I am more than capable. Even before I came to Gotham I had learned how to provide medical aid both in practice and on the field.”

“I’ll be right here,” Alfred reassures him. “Master Damian is very capable. He will do a good job at this.”

Danny nods, taking in a shaky breath. “Okay. Okay. Then, please, Damian.” 

“I’ll apply the local anesthesia now. This will keep you from feeling the stitches go in.” Danny tenses, and then the area around his stab wound goes numb, the pain dulling.

Alfred takes hold of his hands. “Breathe with me,” he instructs. Danny does his best, keeping his eyes on Alfred, matching him with each deep, even breath. 

He tries not to be too tense, to think about when Damian will begin, if he’s already started, all the questions they will ask him about his many scars…

“Done,” Damian announces.

…What?

“What? Already?”

“Yes,” Damian says, a pleased note in his voice. “I told you I knew what I was doing. I’m going to put the bandage on it now. Do not get it wet.”

His back and shoulder are still numb enough that he doesn’t feel the bandage get put on, so he just takes Damian’s word for it. That wasn’t as bad as he expected it to be. In fact, that went really well? Fast, too. Danny would have never been able to stitch himself in that time.

Alfred squeezes his hands, leads him through a few more breaths, then pulls away. He helps Danny lie on his side and pulls the blanket up over him. 

“Get some rest now, Danny. I’ll be here while you sleep.”

“Wait, the gala. Is everyone…?”

“Everyone is alright. The police had been contacted and will be here soon. Nightwing and Black Bat have the situation under control. There is nothing more you need to do.” A hand drops over Danny’s eyes, blocking out the light. “You can rest now, Danny.”

He’s sure that he won’t be able to sleep at all, let alone soundly, after all that. But his body has other ideas and in no time he’s pulled under into that deep darkness that shuts away the rest of the world and lets him drift away. . . .

(The scar map of Danny is being uploaded into the Batcomputer’s archives when Nightwing arrives, carrying a plate full of finger foods pilfered from the gala.

“Where’s Danny?!” he demands, sweeping his gaze across the entirety of the Batcave. He sees Danny curled up in a medical cot before Alfred can answer. “What happened?”

“He was stabbed,” Damian answers nonchalantly from where he’s going through sword katas to work out some of his more volatile emotions.

“Stabbed?!”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

Cass appears behind Nightwing, already shedding parts of her uniform. She steals something from the plate in Nightwing’s hand and is about to eat it when he hisses, “That’s for Danny!” 

She slowly puts it back on the plate. 

Alfred watches her stare at Danny in the medical cot, then turn on her heel to go to the lockers to change out of the rest of her suit. 

“Miss Cassandra, if you could please pick up all your clothes off the floor,” he says as she walks. Cass darts back to pick up everything she dropped behind Nightwing, then disappears into the locker room.

Nightwing finally shakes himself out of his stupor and makes his way over to Alfred, setting the plate down next to him. “Seriously, is Danny alright?”

Alfred places his hands on the desk, palms flat against it, and very calmly says, “Hunting down every person who has ever hurt him will be the last mission I ever go out on.”

“Shit.”

In any other case, he would have reprimanded Nightwing’s language. In this case, it’s the only appropriate response.

“Once the police are gone and the guests seen off, we need to have another family discussion. Danny is a very brave and very strong lad, but he’s gone through far too much. We must do better.”

“I’ll call the war council then.”

“See that you do, Nightwing.”

Alfred nods to him, then pulls the chair away from the Batcomputer to Danny’s medical cot, and sits with him. Looking down at his thin, worn face, Alfred is reminded of Bruce, in the aftermath of his parents’ murder, of Dick’s first nights in the Manor, of Jason and his nightmares, Tim and his loneliness. Now, Danny and his fear will join the expressions he never wants to see on his family again.

He is so young, so fragile, so bright and wonderful despite it all.

Yes, war council is the only appropriate way to move forward. It is the least he can do for Danny, so do it he will.)

[biblio-smia]

“you can’t scare me like that, okay?” w mike schmidt <3? love ur work!

thank u!!! <333 | part of v’s 800 follower celebration!

when mike's call goes to voicemail, he doesn't mind. you're probably busy. maybe you didn't hear the ringing of your phone over the noise of something else.

when you don't call back, mike finds his mind start to wonder. did he do something wrong? do you not like him anymore?

when the clock hits six p.m., mike tries again. he hears the line ring for what seems like hours. this is unusual - the longest you've taken to pick up is three rings at most.

mike knows your schedule better than his. he knows you're sitting in your kitchen right now, thinking of what to put together for dinner. even if you left your phone somewhere, you would still hear the landline. so, mike tries again. one more time.

nothing.

now he worries about being overbearing. he hopes he's not annoying you, but he knows deeps down you're not the type to shy away from a conversation if you did happen to have an issue. it's unlike you.

this is unlike you.

mike is beginning to worry when it's ten p.m. and he still hasn't heard from you. he's found that he hasn't relaxed all afternoon, realized how important your presence (even if it's just the sound of your voice) is to his daily routine. mike feels a little ridiculous, depending on you so much, mind spinning between worried about coming off as clingy and simply worried about you.

he can't stand it by twelve, his heart thumping wildly and his imagination assuming the worst. he's gone through a million possible scenarios in his head, thousands of excuses. none of them fit quite right and mike is beginning to think back to a childhood memory that's haunted him for years.

he's off before he can really think about it, quiet enough not to wake abby but keeping a hasty pace. he's in his car, he's a little too much over the speed limit, he's in front of your door. mike is even more hesitant now that he's here. what if you were just avoiding him? was he making things worse?

mike decides it's worth the risk to knock. it's strong, but no other sounds in the quiet neighborhood follow. mike is about to give up after a few too many moments of silence when he finally hears footsteps.

mike perks up as the door opens and he finally sees you. mike doesn't care if you don't want anything to do with him; he hugs you immediately.

mike's sure you're confused, but you hug him back immediately. at least there's a good sign.

mike feels a little silly as he parts, looking at the clear confusion on your face.

"what's wrong?" you ask innocently, immediately erasing all of mike's worries.

"i thought..." mike shakes his head. "nothing."

"no, tell me," you insist, grabbing mike and dragging him inside. your home is dark; you obviously had gone straight to the door as soon as you'd heard it.

"i just thought... something might've happened." mike's voice shakes a little, his fears suddenly pressing on his chest. mike watches your eyes soften and he wills his emotions not to show so obviously on his face. "you can't scare me like that, okay?"

"i'm sorry," you say sincerely, taking mike's hands in yours. "i was just exhausted after work-"

mike shakes his head. "no, don't apologize for that. i was just kinda worried."

if mike is completely honest, he's a little embarrassed. he'd never thought he'd be the type to need so much reassurance. he didn't want to be clingy.

"i won't take naps like that again," you pull mike into another hug.

"oh, don't do that. just... call me whenever you wake up."

"what if i don't wake up until two in the morning?" you smile.

"then you call me at two in the morning." mike grins, kissing your cheek. "i should go."

"you can stay. it's the least i can do after neglecting you."

"okay," mike scoffs with a smile, shaking his head. "i wasn't totally helpless."

"no, you just missed me," you coo, letting mike cup your face in his hands.

he laughs before he leans in to place a soft kiss on your lips.

"yeah, i really did."

[its-time-to-write]

hi my lovely !!

i’m such a big fan of your jamie work and was wondering if you would consider writing about jamie using bantr ??

like she works at richmond and jamie had like a massive light bulb moment when he realised who he’s chatting to but also that he may be are falling in love

totally get if not on your radar !! x

Here you go!! I haven’t written a fic with Bantr yet, so this was fun!!

not saying you’re in love with me 

Dating apps aren’t really your thing. But to be honest, are they anyone’s thing? Or are they like resumes, where everyone just pretends they’re easy and lies about their qualifications?

It doesn’t matter, because you’re on one anyway. 

Keeley Jones (damn her) had hunted you down and practically begged you to sign up for Bantr. 

“Look, you’re young, sweet, and mad fit. Can’t have a bunch of hot footballers in the app and no ladies!”

You had groaned as you put the chicken for today’s lunch in the oven. It’s not easy being Nelson Road’s on-campus chef. There are diet plans to follow, and a million hungry boys all the time. 

It also means you can’t escape Keeley when you’re in the middle of prepping lunch. As soon as it’s served and cleaned up, you can go home. But for now, you’re at her mercy. 

“Keeley, just because I’m the only twenty-something girl on staff here doesn’t mean that I want to date a footballer. Go bother Samantha. She’s what, thirty and goes on dates every weekend? She’s a perfect candidate.”

Keeley pouts. “I’ll set up your whole profile for you. You don’t even have to tell me if you’re talking to someone, just if you like it, yeah? I’ll help you with meals for a week.”

You point your tongs at her. “You will not even think about touching my food for the rest of eternity,” you warn. 

“So you’ll do it, then?” Keeley asks, giving you the full puppy dog expression. 

You consider for a moment. You’re single at the moment, and have been for a good long while. It wouldn’t hurt to be on Bantr and anyway, it’s not like anyone will know who you are. 

“You’re sure it’s anonymous, then?” you ask. 

Keeley jumps up and claps her hands with a squeal. “Totally! Oh my god, I’m so excited for you. I’ll set it up right now. Give me your phone.”

You point to your bag. “It’s in there. Passcode is-”

“Already know it,” Keeley interrupts. You’re not going to question how or why, you just nod and throw your gloves in the trash. 

“Hairnet looks great on you, Keels,” you say conversationally. 

“Fuck you,” she replies, not looking up from your phone. “And- done! You’re ready to start bantering. Ooh, there are a LOT of men nearby! Wonder how many of them are part of AFC Richmond?”

You shoot her a glare, but she just grins. “Put my phone away,” you tell her. 

She slides it back into your bag. “Just promise me you’ll tell me if you like it. I’ll never ask for anything ever again,” she promises. 

You roll your eyes with a laugh. “Sure thing.”

—

STRIKE09 has sent you a message

You grab your phone as soon as it lights up. Keeley’s going to be fucking thrilled that you’re enjoying Bantr this much, and that you’ve been chatting with someone for a week. 

You open your phone to your chat. 

STRIKE09: finally off work

STRIKE09: how’s ur day

STRIKE09: burn anything?

BAKERGURL22: that was a one time thing!!

BAKERGURL22: work was fine. got off early so I could try a new recipe at home

BAKERGURL22: hbu?

STRIKE09: not bad. lads stole all my lynx so im going to boots to get more

BAKERGURL22: u really know how to romance a girl

STRIKE09: ah shit yea should probably try harder to impress u

You chuckle. Whoever STRIKE09 is, he’s been impressing you from the first day. Always asking questions about you, but never too invasive. Flirty, but not over the top. You’d set your age range in 20s-30s, so you were relatively confident this wasn’t some old creep. 

Your phone buzzes so you look down again.

STRIKE09: what did u make today?

BAKERGURL22: lemon cupcakes. not very healthy but super delicious

BAKERGURL22: I have to cook all this healthy stuff at work and sometimes I want to unwind and bake something with too much sugar ya know?

STRIKE09: bet theyre mint

BAKERGURL22: no they’re lemon

STRIKE09: oi, we got a comedian

BAKERGURL22: look, I had to make plain chicken and a salad with fucking olive oil as a dressing today

BAKERGURL22: it was so gross. I apologized 2 the staff but like, it’s what they all requested

BAKERGURL22: worried im gonna be banned from cooking ever again

Across Richmond, Jamie Tartt nearly drops his phone in Boots. He knows exactly who the girl on the other end of this conversation is. The question is, do you know who he is?

He’d assume no, based on the way you’ve been cagey about work. Not private enough though, because he remembers you making a face earlier that afternoon as you said, “Sorry this lunch is such shit, but I guess you all probably don’t care. I swear I’m a better cook than this.”

Jamie had smiled and kept moving, but he’d been thinking about your scrunched nose all day and the sweet way you said sorry.

What are the odds that he matched with someone who worked in the same building as him?

Apparently pretty high.

Jamie’s not really present the entire time it takes him to check out. He’s grateful that the combination of his hoodie plus the tired teen checking him out means he doesn’t have to talk to anyone. 

He kicks off his shoes and flops onto the couch as soon as he gets home, trying to figure out what to say. Should he say anything? What if he does and you decide you don’t like him?

He shrugs it off and puts his phone away for the night.

—

You frown at your phone for the hundredth time this morning.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Keeley asks from her position at the coffee pot.

“Haven’t heard back from my Bantr match. It’s really strange. We were talking last night and then he just stopped responding. He at least sends me a good morning message, but I haven’t even gotten that.”

Keeley gives you a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, babes. Ghosting is an epidemic. Have you looked at any of your other matches?”

You shake your head and say, “Nah, I wasn’t really interested in them. I really fucking liked this guy. He was sweet, funny, and so good at flirting. I dunno, maybe it’s easier to be like that because it’s all through a screen, but it felt like we had an actual connection.”

“Well, you don’t have to message anyone else if you don’t want to. You can delete the app altogether.”

You say, “Thanks, Keels,” then go back to chopping vegetables. One bright spot of the day is that lunch will be less shitty than yesterday.

You slide the vegetables in the salad just in time. You hear the familiar rumble of AFC Richmond coming in from the field so you plaster a smile on your face and get ready to pass them their lunch.

—

The rest of the afternoon slides by in a haze. You put an earbud in as you wash the dishes, say goodbye to the office staff, then head out the front door to your car. Someone calls your name and you jump. “Jesus, Jamie.” You turn around to see him push himself off the wall by the door. It looks like he’s been waiting there.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “You headin’ home?”

You say, “Yeah, I only work for part of the day. What are you doing out here?”

Jamie wraps his hands in the front of his shirt and considers what he’s going to say. He’s been thinking about it all morning, and he’s still not sure what the right approach is.

“Look,” he begins hesitantly, “y’know how Keeley’s promoting Bantr?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“I been chatting up this girl, like, and she- I dunno, I really like her. I was thinking we could meet in person but I don’t know if she’ll… fucking… want to.”

Christ, he’s stumbling over his words like a goddamn fool.

You raise an eyebrow and say, “Okay..? Are you looking for advice?”

You’re beyond confused right now. This is the longest Jamie has ever talked to you, and certainly the most awkward he’s ever been. Usually he takes his food with a wink and a “Thank, love.” Sometimes he’ll even through in a compliment.

Jamie untucks his hands just to shove them in his pockets. Fuck it.

“I know it’s you,” he says bluntly. You open your mouth to say something, but he keeps talking. “Figured it out last night when we were talking. You made lemon cupcakes yesterday, yeah? You hated lunch yesterday and said sorry for it like a million fucking times. My username is fucking stupid, just my position and number.”

He stops, unsure where to go from here. Meanwhile, your brain is whirring a mile a minute. 

“You’re Strike09,” you say slowly. Jamie nods and you slap your forehead. “Oh god, I was flirting with you! Shit, this is so fucking awkward. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have done it if I knew who you were.”

“No, that’s the thing.” Jamie takes a few steps, closing the distance between you. “Don’t think we would’ve done it if we fuckin’ knew each other. But we did. And we like each other.”

Your head is still in your hand. This is too much. You’re conscious of the fact that you’re still in your hairnet.

You look at him just long enough to ask, “So what’s your point?”

“We should give it a go.”

You snort. “Yeah, right. What’s your actual point?”

Jamie looks at you incredulously as he says, “That is my actual fucking point! I like talking to you! I think you’re fit! I know I’m fit and you like talking to me. I sneaked out of training to talk to you. Told Roy I weren’t feeling well, and he’s gonna send someone to check on me soon so if you have a real reason why we can’t try dating, I want to hear it.”

“I don’t,” you admit. “It’s just a lot to process.”

Jamie nods. “Yeah, alright, yeah, sure. Let me know. Um, I have to get back before someone finds me. I’ll see you around.”

“See ya,” you halfheartedly reply. 

You think about Jamie the entire way home. You head straight to the kitchen and mechanically begin pulling out baking supplies. Cooking is fun, but it’s also your job. Baking is how you unwind. You’re halfway through an orange tart when you realize what you’re making. 

“Damn it!” you cry. Fucking Jamie. You smack down your spatula and grab your phone to text Keeley with a request. She responds almost instantly with Jamie’s phone number. 

He picks up on the second ring. 

“You rejecting me over the phone now?” he quips. 

“How’d you know it was me?” you ask. 

“Keeley,” he replies, and you can’t stop a smile from spreading across your face. 

“Same,” you say. “I wanted to tell you that I thought about it, and I want to go out with you. I don’t know when you’re free, but I’m around after 3pm pretty much every night. God, that sounds super lame.”

Jamie laughs. “So if you sent me your address, I could be at yours in…”

“Fifteen minutes,” you supply. 

“Set a timer, babe,” Jamie says. “Bet I can make it in ten.” 

[scarasimping]

I WAS HOPING U DID NSFW BUT I WASNT SURE

PIRATE SCARA 100% LIKES SEEING U WITH HIS HAT ON WHEN UR ON HIS SHIP, UR HIS ROYAL TREASURE AND HE LOSES IT AT THE SIGHT OF U WITH HIS HAT

He 100% has a think for marking, biting and leaving dark bruises from his mouth on your neck (and places no one else can see) gets him going (this man would go feral)

“Scara i told you to make sure their hidden!”

“Oops ;)” ps: hes not sorry <3

AND DONT GET ME STARTED ON TEASING, THIS MAN WILL DROP SO MANY FLIRTY THINGS TOWARDS YOU WHEN HE SHOULDNT, running from the guards? He’s gonna comment on how he knows you can last longer.. I mean run longer

Hiding behind a tree away from the guards? Oops his fingers slipped up under your shirt better stay silent, you wouldn’t want them to hear would you

ANON ILL KISS U ON THE MOUTH I LOVE U

about the hat thing, you're 100% correct. there's something about seeing you wear his hat that makes him feel possesive over you. it's a hat that everyone knows belongs to him, even other crews (and especially his enemies) so if you're wearing it, they know that you belong to him as well.

he's absolutely fucked you while you wore nothing but said hat as well. his calloused hands holding your thighs while they wrap around his waist as he has you pressed against the wall of his quarters. His hat almost fell off with all movement, but without stopping his relentless pace, he simply adjusts it to fit more snugly on your head.

"make sure this stays on, darling," he would say while all you could do is nod and dig your fingernails deeper into his shoulders and back.

speaking of marking, youre absolutely right that he has a thing for it, both giving and receiving. seeing your pretty body that's been pampered your whole life, not a scar to be seen, adorned with those deep purple and red marks left by him and only him fills him with a sense of pride. he would be there for hours marking you if he could, making sure anyone who happened to see any of them would know how well loved you are. He'd leave them on your chest so that they barely peak out of whatever shirt you're wearing, down your stomach, and especially on your pretty thighs.

pirate! scaramouche is definitely a thigh man btw. big thighs, thighs that are on the smaller side, he does not care he likes whatever as long as they're yours.

anyways, if you get mad at him for leaving a hickey where someone can see, he'd just smile at you cheekily and pretend to look innocent.

"whoops, must've gotten carried away...oh well!" this motherfucker does not care.

but also, he absolutely loves when you leave scratch marks down his back (and hickeys of your own on him but scratches are his favorite) especially if he can feel them throughout the day. yes, they sting a little, but he doesn't care in the slightest and even likes the stinging. your scratch marks are alongside all of his scars along his back and something about that makes him so happy.

(plus whenever he feels them there he just remembers his night with you and wants more so don't be surprised if the next time you see him, he's asking for another round.)

you're so right that he would tease you all the time. as you're hiding around a dark corner from the guards, pinned to the wall by him to make your bodies as small as possible so that you're not spotted, he's just biting back a laugh and staring down at you.

"Isn't this a familiar position?" he would whisper. "almost like last night when I-"

you have to kiss him to shut him up, it's the only thing that works.

that still doesn't stop him from slipping his hand under your shirt or down the hem of your skirt, so that he can test how quiet you can be. make sure you don't get caught ;3

[elliesglock]

Do the liberty game !

i'd like to preface this by saying it's gonna be kinda short and have little moments because there's not much they did. however they spoke very loud in the things they did do. i searched for as many videos and pictures i could that could tell me things. sorry if i missed anything

first of all i would like to point out how imo the summer was def their time to show their power couple-ness. i mean the fits, the time they spent together, all the events they showed up to together no matter their schedule. gives married asf.

so, azzi goes to the liberty game with steph because she's his ambassador and they have a close relationship so obviously they're gonna sit together. paige is sitting beside jordan chiles. i can imagine how sad they were they weren't going together like them planning it together and texting like you going? yes are you!!! yes!!! and then they realize and they're like dang. oh but they made sure they had them seats close. i would just like to point out how beautiful body guard p looked deciding to make her appearance this day. I LOVE LOVE LOVEEEEE body guard p and i could talk about it for hours. she keeps an eye on azzi. she protects her. and i've talked about this before but i think it's due to her being older and also just having a protective instinct with her due to their history. these girls have known each other since they were children, it's not just p keeping an eye on azzi she's keeping an eye on her soulmate she's been in love with since she was 15. also p, in general, is a very protective person over her loved ones (drew, lauren, her dad and mom, azzi etc.). it's very different for azzi though because obv she's going to watch over her little brother differently than her gf. there's many examples of p just watching azzi, the boogie concert, azzi talking to that one guy on opening night in 2022 she had a stare that could fry anybody that stepped in the way 😭. so obv azzi not being around p (and looking tf good) she's going to keep an eye on her. it's veryyyyg domestic. paige def leads azzi by her waist through large crowds and holds her hand tight so she doesn't loose her.

let's talk about these fits honeyyyy. my god azzi knows how to brighten a place up good lord. that face card. lowkey in my opinion their fits look a little coordinated. the way they're both wearing black and white stripes and the street wear kinda look? the undershirts being white? maybe i'm just delusional but they def look together. couples matching what's new yk. it could also be they just complement each other that well that it looks like they planned it. either way i have an agenda. i wanted to bring up the fits cause again, POWER COUPLE!!!! giving couple of basketball ngl. like they ittttt girlsssss. p with the extensions too good lorddddddd!!! yall aren't slick i know you went back to your hotel rooms and.....well. this is another reason i think p was watching azzi. she looked good alright. like p is a simple masc she sees her girl dressed up and she's clawing at the bottom of her seat to get an up close look and give her all the compliments.

the biggest thing about this game is the way they're obv VERYYYYY impatient and eager to see each other. it's sooo telling. like the fact u got steph curry sitting next to you and your checking ur phone and staring at your gf across the court. it's real unserious idc. they both were checking their phones a LOTTTTT. like A LOT. every video i've seen they're looking at the game for 5 secs and then they're checking their phone. my theory, they were texting the whole time about the meet up after the game 😭 they can't go and sit with each other so they're just gonna text each other and longingly stare at each other not even paying attention to the game they got court side tickets for??? I THOUGHT THIS WAS ABOUT BASKETBALL?? it's so gay and pathetic. p is even watching azzi with steph while jordan chiles is talking to her. it's very much i don't see anyone but my girl energy. p is literally BLINDDDDDDD when it comes to any other girl besides azzi. it's literally just her girl in that arena to her so. fuck yall for ruining my lover girl with player allegations.

now they finally get to meet up since the game is over. AND THE SWITCH IN DEMEANOR? like obv they were happy to be at the game but the way they are literally ASCENDING with happiness when they finally get to see each other. they're sooooo stupid and silly. they're body language talking to each other and other player is now so loose and relaxed, where as in the video of paige talking to jordan she seems very tense and un focused. not that they can't function with out each other they're grown women but almost. i think they bring out the social nature in each other when they're around one another. simply due to the fact they are comfortable around each other and obv bring relief to each other. p is already very social it was just funny to see her so preoccupied not on a convo but rather her girl across the court lololol.

so they see each other after the game and talk to a few player like sabrina. at first glance it looks like a couple of wives chatting and talking to others as a couple. gives very oh hey this is my wife nice to meet u if that makes sense. they got some pictures together (THANK GOD THEY GOT SOME PICTURES TO PUT UP ON THEIR APARTMENT) little professional business wives.

azzi does princess things and fixes something on paige's face. the way p looks at her?!?!??? like azzi isn't even paying attention but paige is LOCKED ON HER. she's just gonna admire azzi no matter what the circumstance is. we get a lovely sequence of photos of p's general heart eyes. she's like finally my girl is near me i can smile and be happy again. that's a little dramatic but it's true. and can we talk about how azzi dotting on paige is the absolute cutest. they always are fixing each others outfits and making sure they're comfortable. it's soooo girlfriend. i think they do it because you want your significant other to be comfortable and also like the way they look afterwards in pics. it's just a sweet gesture to do to fix something on their shirt or sum on their face. it shows your attentiveness and that you CARE. also the fact whatever was on p's face was close to her lips does not surprise me bc cmon i alr knew azzi was looking there. just like paige noticing something on azzi's boob at the draft. like guh we already know you were looking there.

and then they most likely leave and cuddle because they miss each other. like omg we haven't seen each other in days (3 hours) I FELT LIKE U WENT TO WAR (it's been an hour since they last touched). just attachment to the next degree.

okay, this is alll i got, thanks for reading you guys!! have a great night <3