#where he’s nice to kids and mean to people who SHOULD KNOW BETTER but are FUCKING UP ANYWAY

[lilyrealm]

i lied i changed the tag immediately. anywayyy maybe ill just start typing and see if inspo comes to me. i think itd be kind of funny if in this au ei and makoto arent even related, ei is just an actual android body double commissioned for makoto. i cant rmb, inazuma didnt know makoto existed right? did they just not know there was a handover 500 years ago... but yea thats gonna add a little identity crisis to the mix (remembers fontaine) wait... ok we'll get to there when we get there!! inazuma first

i suppose yae is just made for the shrine... everyone else that has like a normal job, just assume theyre made for their normal job ok. ittos is not a normal job tho. UNLESS... genius strat where they make a "gang leader" that is actually harmless and even plays with kids, but is capable of overpowering other gangs, thus. no actual criminal gangs!! we onto smth here. kuki wouldnt be needed tho but since she has that shrine story she can be one of those that had their purpose changed perhaps. how? well either its sentience or someone behind the scenes 🤷‍♀️ dont think abt it too deeply

who else... everyone else is kind of self explanatory i think. they just... do their jobs/help people they work alongside. i suppose kokomis different since shes in a position of power, and they have that family line jazz, so its kind of weird for her to be a commercial (celestia) android. maybe we can just assume technology is fairly advanced in this era so theyre not all commercial? people can just make their own. oh yeah this ties back into daydreams' original concept of like... broken down models being fixed up by readers... who knows, maybe people even make imitations. hm. maybe that should be neuvillette since hes an enemy of celestiaOkay i keep jumping to fontaine for some reason

should i keep it to one nation a reblog or just keep going. imma keep going. now how do we fit in rukkhadevatas whole thing... i also dont claim to be very knowledgeable about all the desert stuff (and havent finished the pari quest😭) but its probably also not celestia approved so maybe its also a separate faction? wait hold on. the forbidden knowledge can just be. a virus. and some buggy code is left in rukkhadevatas memory so nahida had to delete her loooool okay with how tech they made sumeru this fits really nicely.

im gonna say cynos bad jokes+tcg interest was not scripted at all cuz idk why theyd do that unless some engineer was like wouldnt it be funny. i mean thats also possible ig but like with kuki, sentience is an option... i think this entire au was (partially) inspired when i read smth (an anon on daydream's blog maybe?) about alhaitham and nahida being school guides or something. alhaitham proobably wouldnt be a teacher type i think he just helps them do admin and is fully aware the sages delegate a lot of work to the "scribe" bc they know hes an android. oooh but maybe they keep it quiet and not even everybody knows hes an android so hes like Lol if youre gonna masquerade me as a human you better treat me like one and give me time off and holiday pay etc. yeah thats funny

...i have no idea how to fit in his and kavehs roommate situation. it would be funny if kaveh wasnt an android and just had no idea (bonus angst when he finds out and is like uve been lying to me?!?!) though i did start this thinkihg vision holders would all be androids. WAIT WHAT DOES THAT MEAN FOR THE VISION HUNT DECREE. oh i guess its just "deactivate that mf" huh. no thats weird cuz yoimiya wouldnt be able to be "alive" for the coup... maybe it fr just disables their elemental powers. which could be connected to their ambitions who knows, that could be the original concept.

okay now weve got that squared away, back to sumeru. ill put kaveh on the backburnerWait. what if there was like a. make someone into an android a la nikke bc theyre dying or just because. and he did that but now hes broke bc of the payment for it. okayy maybe.

also im thinkin if usually the ppl in charge commission these droids (i mean that might spoil a lot of the rebellion plotlines) maybe celestia also just randomly releases models that werent commissioned... okay what i wanted to get at was, the sages wouldnt have commed nilou (unless they were more lenient on the arts in the past which is possible i just cant rmb) but if not i guess she can just be a random celestia release. who the fuck made layla

aaaand ive been avoiding the elephant in the room... scaramouche. i do love the idea of each of his forms being different models. ahhh it would be cool if ei actually did make him, not celestia. using her own knowledge and power but shes not perfect and neither is he (ok thats not why she deemed him unsuitable) (omg. it was bc he cried on birth and she was like ah hes too soft (human) HaHaHa that would be really Funny if it reminds her of makoto Lol)

so... kabukimono escapes his holding and tatarasuna happens... damn the whole irminsul-history-wipe thing doesnt really work here. unless, if we are still setting this in the original universe with magic and stuff, just with MORE androids, then i guess irminsul could exist. just that instead of being a corrupting Thing in rukkhadevata, the forbidden knowledge is a corrupting virus. 👍

back to scara. there isnt much to change here, he can absolutely still have his human crisis because none of the people he stayed with were vision holders so he never met a fellow android. and hes also different from fellow androids anyway since ei made him! wow! double whammy! anyway dottore

everything is just the same actually. like this doesnt change anything in the plot they still make that fuckass robot. okay is there anything else in sumeru im missing. oh right earlier i was like why would they make layla cuz i was like. they should not encourage sleeping in class. but it could be like, yk, relatable to students, but she still gets work done so yk no excuse (except that shes an android)!! i also know she has some identity issues but i havent done her hangout yet so... gonna leave it there, idk if itll affect this too much. faruzans just a teacher, etc etc, dori could be a plant or just commissioned/made by the black market lol

cyno and sethos' Thing... hmmmmmmm. i guess, instead of kids they just made two androids to be the host for the the soul of h. im trying to remember but all thats coming to mind is hamarhaft which is a weapon in bg3. quick google: hermanubis. yes. oooh so maybe cyno isnt commissioned by the sages at all! yeah okay that makes things make sense!

hmmmmm. collei. she didnt have a vision in the manga, right... perhaps dottores experiment is to "fix" eleazar patients by combining them/putting their brain into an android? yeah that sounds plausible (dottore fans dont gut me cuz i never read too deeply into his experiments)

that should be all outliers in sumeru? onto fontaiWAIT I FORGOT ABOUT KAZUHA. hm. hmmm. yk its possible that the inazuma clans comm their own androids, so like, the kamisatos... (i also think itd be an extra layer to ayakas angst if the public didnt know they were androids.) so maybe the kaedeharas made one on the last of their money lol. his friend is i really dont know he could be anything, all that matters is hes an android (had a vision) and was killed by ei (driving a sword through an android should probably fuck it up. especially if the sword is empowered by elemental magic and ei was part of the original archon lineup).

then he fucks off to explore the world. definitely not a commercial android. haha even though he and scara would be popular choices (not necessarily tgt) but i accidentally made them one of a kind so no you cant really go to the market and buy a scara android. though i suppose that does delve more into "genshin plot is just a story the company made to drive sales" rather than "genshin plot is happening right now".

baaaack to fontaine. oooh boy oh boy. to start, focalors was against celestia from the start, though i dont think itd be too bad to say they made her and she went r—wait i forgot, the previous hydro archon passed the title to her. side note what the fuck are oceanids in this au. androids lite. nah maybe they can still be oceanids. so the prev hydro archon (egaria? no its egeria) passed the title of archon to focalors. perhaps she did an ei and made her own droid? how does passing the archon title work with this though... unless archon isnt really assigned the androids, thats just what they called the initial lineup and those that still have that initial model treat them as gods. so egarias the commercial bot that went rogue. or something im looking at her wiki and the history is... um a lot more complicated im not even sure if she was part of the original archon lineup. okay thats not important. whats important is: what the fuck is furina???

furina is supposed to be part fontainian, so part oceanid... magic fuse an oceanid with a droid and bam...! but splits them in two... shit then the droid is the one hiding instead lol. but hey with all their pneuma ousia shit maybe it needs to be a droid converting all that energy! but normal fontainians are not immortal the way furina is/was sooo... idk we're mixing scifi and fantasy magic so theres probably something connecting the two of them to each other, some battery inside them, or maybe furinas like 1/4 droid while focalora is 1/4 oceanid. that could work.

WHAT THE FUCK IS NEUVILLETTE. clearly not made by celestia. lol since they stole the power from the dragons its just an old company that maybe pioneered this tech but celestia stole it!?!? i feel like i should be thinking about khaenriah here. but anyway. neuvillette canonically isnt pure dragon so maybe its like... the creators have lost some of their materials or process due to celestia so they cant make a proper dragon again. so they just make a humanoid also to masquerade under celestias gaze (spoiler: they aint even notice?)

so how does the transfer of power work... focalors kills herself, WHAT THE HELL IS THE WHALE DOING HERE, and gives up her "archon powers"... which, here, can be some kind of magical tech that neuvillette takes. bit more manual work perhaps but we ball

okay. the fatui. the tsaritsa (glances at wiki) isnt even the original cryo archon, but otherwise we dk much. but i think its prooobably fair to assume she makes the fatui. or does nikke shit like dottore was gonna do except like better. and delusions? just. fucked up versions of the elemental magic (visions) other bots have ORRR its just terrible for mortals since its not that bad for visionholders. spews toxic shit idk. REGARDLESS. okay obviously not all the fatui are from snezhnaya... maybe she makes the normal fatui army looool ok ignore ALL of this since we dont really know anything about her, i was just trying to figure out the house of hearth 😭😭😭

so. we have to remember the fontainian oceanid thing. hold on what the fuck then fontainians cant be androids here since theyre full human(ish). hmm. hmmmmm. alright, so, hm. fuck. i dug myself into a hole. OKAY. lets see. what if the fontainians are all actually a kind of oceanid-droid egeria made. its just that focalors has extra archon tech in her from egeria. so all fontainians have like (i was gonna say kill switch which im not sure is better than dissolving to water honestly) a latent ability to become magical (get visions) to make up for... celestia not giving them any because they were like what the fuck, egeria.

i mean its also possible celestia also sent normal androids there you just cant tell. and its not like everyones tested the primordial water, maybe they actually wont be affected (who would even want to risk it lol), you really just cant tell. like we can just say all the playable/important chars we know never touched primordial water (well obviously. cuz theyre. still alive)

pause i just saved this as a draft just in case i accidentally like close the app and i realised i DO have another draft talking about inazuma bots. and it had this crazy idea of the real ayato and ayaka dying so they made bots of them. but the other stuff i wrote there about ei is not as interesting as the one i wrote here tho so scrap that. i did have one interesting line about venti and zhongli not being their original prototype archon model anymore and ei still was because she just makes new models/upgrades. then its funny cuz im like yea rukkhadevata probably figured that out with the irminsul (nahida must be a new model) and fontaine has its own problem so its just. venti and zhongli. old ass men being the originals. WAIT WHAT IF VENTIS APPEARANCR WAS JUST THE NAMELESS BARD AND THEY NIKKEFIED HIM. what is a wind spirit. actual wind spirit or little ai lmao.......

ok so back to um, the HoH. arle only gets her vision after becoming the knave, right, she fights the whoever orphanage mom with her own blood powers first (wtf is that btw i feel like theres no explanation in game but ig it doesnt appear much in game either so its okay...?) maybe just a defective bot or smth... MOVING ON i just wanted to get to the trio siblings...

wow okay i wanted to get to them cuz i like them but now that im here im like... what could i say. theyre the "doing jobs" droids again. cant even say theyre fatui made bc of the fontainian thing and most of them are just normal people. sorry damn. damn i think the rest of the chars are also just "doing jobs" droids. oh well

i havent touched natlan at all so i cant say anything about them 🤷‍♀️ JESUS THIS WAS LONG AF WHATS WRONG WITH ME (the undiagnosed autism, my oomfs would say)

SHUT UP OMG i just looked at my drafts again, i had ANOTHER inazuma draft written where id alr come up w the idea of makoto being human. ah well. Wait this doesnt mesh with makoto also considered an archon before ei took over LETS WORRY ABT THAT LATER CUZ that short draft also had an extra concept for the kamisatos which is. parents couldnt conceive so they commed ayato and ayaka without telling the public theyre androids. so its either they start androids or replace humans... im thinking start because theres not really enough time between the familys deaths to make new models of them. unless their deaths were separate and earlier and somehow kept very hushed up... yeah no. they were always androids. WHEW NOW WE'RE DONE. I PROMISE. MAYBE

i simply think it is so fun to imagine a world where a company makes a bunch of androids to assist people and provide companionship so they give the androids stories and release them in certain themes or lines and those androids are the genshin characters. credit to @yandere-daydreams for the idea. i love it so much. yes we all want x character to be our boyfriend or girlfriend and we have sex with them yes but i think its fun to imagine their roles when theyre not being yandere...

also the read more is very long i just went off about my ideas for most of the mondstadt characters. nothing wrong with me

if this is set in teyvats world imagine amber being like a gliding instructor in mondstadt. good engineer too, maybe the first bot that can fix other bots/have intricate knowledge of them (because she made baron bunny).

for human injuries theres barbara and jean, but with different temperaments for different patients. or if we're still set in teyvat, then jean (and the rest of the favonius knights characters) are actually android assistants to the actual human knights. basically the androids replace vision holders??

but yeah kaeya would also be a knight assistant, noelles story is she trains super hard but still isnt a knight (because shes made to help actual trainees!). lisa of course manages the library. yeah sorry thats it. makes tea

and i had the idea (this is all stolen from my own twitter thread from *checks* last year? anyway) that they would tease the release of bots like diluc, rosaria and razor through voicelines from kaeya, barbara and lisa. really like the idea of razor originally being some sort of surveillance android for wolvendom/integrating with them in some way for research and sort of became a guide for people who get lost in wolvendom.

diona and diluc are two different types of bartenders, one is good against people who cant say no to a cute (angry) kitty and the others... are those require some intimidation.

VENTI. god, i think itd be cool if they had prototype models for the seven archons and actual venti bots now definitely play into the "broke bard who plays for alcohol" thing. but of course anyone with eyes knows that his original model was the barbatos android.

oh!! and bennett and fischl being adventurers buddies. bennett is "unlucky" but hes actually like, wired to be hypervigilant and take hits for you while he shrugs it off. and fischl comes with oz if you need some chuuni speech translated, but you can disable that if you want to go full rp with her.

*looks at my thread* oh yeah "Albedo is made for the alchemists in the Knights, and he was meant to be released with Klee, but there was a delay because his ai kept experimenting on its own copies (Flowerfell Albedo?)" ngl i didnt play the albedo event and never bothered to watch a video so i dont know the full extent of his lore here. oh right and i added "sucrose is made to keep an eye on him in the labs" lmao

klee is. i suppose made for the knights. a cute energetic girl to keep morale up, whos fireproof and thus able to scout dangerous areas/bomb them if you so wish.

oh yeah i wrote that the church was not happy about the rosaria bots being made so they relegated her to guarding dragonspine against foolish adventurers. as to why she keeps appearing in bars, well, uh. No comment — Celestia Inc.

the lawrence clan wanted in on this business and sponsored a representative of their family, but mondstadts opinion of them is less than friendly, so the knights compromise and make eula, a lawrence knight.

whew okay for some reason i was able to churn out a lot for mondstadt and then everyone else i was like uh yeah. they exist and do things similar to what they do in game like xiangling being a cook's aide. yep. idk why the mondstadt worldbuilding gripped me so hard like that.

also my last thought is that maybe the hilichurls are just the verryyy alpha version of their bots, the khaenri'ah line (i think daydream mentioned this) and maybe just broke down and went rogue/abandoned. so now they make better bots to fight them and keep people safe. go figure. earns them a ton of cash though. lol imagine if getting them was a lottery too....

[lilnasxvevo]

Funniest Shen Qingqiu moment is when he notices Sha Hualing is barefoot and his internal monologue is just like YOUNG LADY DON’T YOUR FEET HURT? YOU’RE INVADING A MOUNTAIN SECT WITH NO SHOES? Setting aside for a moment that it’s MY mountain sect you’re invading—

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Seeing ghosts in Gotham

He’s walking alone. Despite how dark it is, he’s not particularly nervous, not like the couple of people hovering in an alley.

His shift at Batburger went a little long, not that he’s complaining, he needed the money.

Everything is fine. Splendid. Fantastic. A little quiet, enough to pretend it’s a nice stroll home like it was back in Amity. Of course that all kind of goes up in flames when a dark figure drops into a crouch right in front of him. About two arm lengths away is a guy who straightens to a little taller than Danny himself. From the flickering street light across the street he can spot red, crisscross yellow, and a dark cape.

Red Robin.

Danny shakes his head and turns around.

“Nope.”

A smaller body is already standing behind him, blocking his path. The little guy with a serious face folds his arms across his chest as if challenging Danny to try to get by him.

He’s had enough tussles with Danielle to know better than to test the kid.

Danny rubs at his eyes with a hand, purposefully keeping the other limp at his side. He turns back around.

“Okay. Fine. What? What do you want?”

“You sent in a folder of information to solve the Boothe case,” Red Robin states confidently like there wasn’t any doubt it was Danny who sent it in.

He frowns. It was sent in anonymously. As in they shouldn’t be able to know it was him. Then again they are detectives in their own right even if they dress weird.

“See? This is why no one helps out the police if they’re gonna get grilled for it later on,” he complains sourly.

“That case is connected to another string of crimes we’ve been investigating. I need to know where you got your information.”

Danny glares at him for a second, actually thinking about telling him, then he remembers how quickly these guys throw people into Arkham.

“Do you not get what anonymous means?”

“What is your source?” He asks, completely ignoring Danny’s concerns.

“What are gonna do? Dangle me over the side of a building to get me to talk like you do with the criminals you guys pick up? Go ahead. See where that gets you,” he shrugs indifferently.

“You’re a runaway.”

Danny’s eyes widen in surprise before narrowing into a warning as he turns to look at the pipsqueak that spoke.

“From your poorly made fake ID and the fact you don’t look close to eighteen, you must be a runaway minor. We could bring you in to the proper authorities if you prove to be… uncooperative.”

Danny sneers in annoyance.

“Seriously?” He turns back to Red Robin. Clearly the older of the two and the one leading this investigation. “This is what I get for trying to help? Blackmail?”

“Robin can be a bit… abrasive. I, on the other hand, can appreciate a different approach.”

Suddenly there’s a couple pieces of paper money in between his fingers. Danny couldn’t see how much it was from this far away, but it didn’t really change how he felt about the whole situation.

“Now bribery? Wow, you guys really got the whole good cop, bad cop thing down, don’t cha?”

“Then what do you want?”

“For you to stop wasting your time,” Danny answers with a snap.

Red Robin pauses.

“Our time,” he repeats calmly.

“Yea. Your time. This is a dead end and you should move on.”

“And why are you a dead end?” Presses Robin.

“Because,” Danny emphasizes with a look over his shoulder, “the guy you’re really looking for, my source as you put it, is dead, okay? So you can’t go ask him questions. I sent in everything that was relevant. Find another lead.”

Red Robin’s expression remains blank as he mentally calculates his next move. Danny hopes he takes his advice and let him go home.

“His name?”

Danny folds his arms over his chest, a pathetic attempt to protect himself. He chews on his lip a minute. To tell him or not to tell him. It’s not really ratting the guy out since he’s, you know, dead. Although there is a large chance Danny’s missing something and it’s all going to lead back to him somehow.

“I didn’t kill him.”

“I never said you did,” the vigilante replies calmly, almost nonchalant.

Danny shifts his weight with nerves. He really wasn’t getting out of this without giving them something, huh?

“Greg,” he grinds out like it’s painful.

Silence for a few moments, then-

“As in Gregory Boothe?”

The victim of this whole conversation? Yes.

Danny’s silence is answer enough and the diverted gaze just solidified their suspicions.

“Gregory Boothe’s body turned up a month ago. Presumably he’d been dead for several weeks before that.”

Red lets that damning information hang in the air like Danny didn’t already know.

“So when did he talk to you? Last week?”

Danny jerks at the off handed joke, actually taking a step back and hitching his shoulders up to his ears. He grimaces at his knee jerk response, but can’t take it back. A glance toward the vigilante shows a calculating stunned expression from what he can see ignoring the mask. He looks away again finding a discarded soda can very interesting.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Demands Robin behind him.

Danny tried to resist the urge to curl even more into himself, but knows he failed without even having to look.

“You’re a medium,” Red Robin states. It’s not even a question.

Danny flinches and shoots the guy a scared glare.

“I am not one of those scam artists,” he hisses firmly.

“No,” Red agrees, “you’re not. You didn’t ask for money or attention.”

Danny stares like it’s his first time seeing him. The lack of aggression or accusations was new and a little disarming. He was genuinely confused as to why the guy wasn’t immediately going to denial or throwing him in Arkham.

“Hell of a city to hide in when you can see ghosts,” Red Robin says in a light tone like he was teasing him. The small tug to his lips just proves it.

Danny’s shoulders practically sag at the playful demeanor. A hand reaches up to rub the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Yea, well… no one was gonna look for me here.”

Which was only half the reason he chose Gotham, but it was still truthful.

“So… Greg?”

“Isn’t here right now.” Danny pauses and snorts at himself. “Please leave a message.”

The vigilante does have a sense of humor because he smirks in response to the joke.

“Is there another way to… make contact? Summoning maybe?”

Danny raises an eyebrow incredulously.

“Summoning is rude,” he says like it’s common sense.

Instead he turns to the nearest reliable ghost in the vicinity.

“Hey, Susan, can you go-“

The vigilantes can’t hear how she interrupts him because she was standing there the whole time and knows exactly what he was going to ask.

“Okay, thanks. Meet at mine.”

The ghost woman nods and flies off to go hunt down dear old Greg and Danny turns to Red Robin. He makes a casual move with his head to say ‘follow me’ and continues walking down the sidewalk past the guy and further into the old, decrepit buildings he’s been squatting in.

They already know he’s a runaway, being homeless shouldn’t come as a shock to them. Even with his two jobs, he can’t afford to rent an apartment. No wonder so many people are in poverty or in the slums.

He ducks into his rundown building, ignoring the rats scurrying away, and hops up the rickety stairs, avoiding the ones that were unstable. It was a nightmare figuring out which steps were faulty. Lots of injuries.

At the top he turns to see Red easily copying his movements up the stairs while Robin balances along the railing like a tight rope. When they reach the top at the same time Danny just stares at them for a moment before shaking his head in exasperation. Darn vigilantes. Why did Danny have to get caught up in this mess?

He turns, walking along the floor closest to the wall before getting to what he’s deemed his room.

It used to be an office from what he can tell. A desk pushed against the far wall and a ripped sofa he’s been using as a bed on the other wall. The floors were the most stable in this room which really won out.

Danny goes to the desk where all his papers are scattered over the surface. An organizational pattern only he understands as he shuffles through the pile he pulls from the cubby above the desk. It holds all the same information he sent into the police, just in its raw form with about twice the amount of useless information. Along with it is a few other ‘cases’ that sounds familiar that he just threw together into a pile. Maybe the genius detectives could decipher what he couldn’t.

“Here,” he says, holding out the stack. Red Robin doesn’t hesitate to take it off his hands.

There’s no chair for the desk anymore so he slides some papers out of the way to hop onto the desk to wait.

“No.”

The vigilantes look at him and he shakes his head and looks over to the side.

“No, Abby. I’m not wasting their time.”

Red Robin goes back to flipping through papers. Most of them were old business papers he had found in the office and just written on the back. Some were receipts or pamphlets or some other random scrap of paper he could get his hands on.

“Because yours was an accident. There’s nothing for them to solve.”

Robin watched him cautiously as if waiting for Danny to snap or suddenly turn violent. Instead he leans back on his hands in a vulnerable position which screamed ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone’.

“There is a lot more information here than what was submitted to the police,” Red Robin comments neutrally, purposefully ignoring Danny’s exasperated sigh and one-sided conversation.

Danny shrugs in defense, “Didn’t think all of it was relevant.”

The vigilante doesn’t respond.

Robin drifts closer as Danny gives a withering glare to the corner. He examines the mess of papers surrounding the teen in the low lighting.

“Are these all files of victims?”

Danny glances over them with a knowledgeable eye.

“Most.” He twists to point at the top left corner of the cubbies. “Those are accidents though… well, what sounds like accidents.”

“There should be more.”

Danny looks at the boy with a tilted head and raises brow.

“Not everyone sticks around,” he explains simply.

Then something draws his attention away across the room. Surprisingly his eyes don’t glaze over like someone with mental illness, instead they sharpen to see something they can’t. It resembled Constantine or Thomas.

“Greg, these guys wanna talk to you.”

What proceeds is a very awkward interaction with Danny as a middle man between victim and vigilante. Despite the need for a translator, Red Robin does in fact get a lead from the conversation.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

Danny nods. “Sure, no problem. Just don’t rat me out to the police and I can help with any other case that pops up with a ghost attached.”

“You know we can help with your living situation,” Red Robin offers with a glance around the room.

“What, and put me in foster care? No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“There are other options,” Robin chimes in with nonchalance that implies he doesn’t actually care.

“You don’t pass for eighteen, but if you let me make you a new ID we could say you’re emancipated.”

Danny frowns.

“I’d have to be sixteen to be eligible for emancipation.”

“You could be sixteen.”

No, he really couldn’t. Maybe if you squint your eyes and tilt your head, but Danny is fourteen with all the baby fat and innocent face that comes with it. His license now is a clear fake to anyone who sees it, but in this city no one’s gonna question it to his face. They just raise a brow, look at him, then shrug it off and roll with the lie.

“What do you want?” He demands. All this good will and wanting to help him can’t be free.

“We want to help,” Red says too easily.

Danny stares for a second, eyes narrowed as he tries to block out the multiple voices around him.

Insurance. He wants Danny to owe him so he can keep coming back for more information.

“I just told you I would help. Why are you still trying to get leverage?” He demands with irritation.

“We want to help-“

“You want me in your back pocket.”

Red Robin doesn’t give that a response, his lips pressing together to make a hard line.

Instead of pushing, he surprisingly takes a step back and heads towards the door, papers still in hand. Danny doesn’t argue.

Robin ducks out first, blending into the shadows without even a glance over his shoulder. Red Robin pauses in the doorway.

“Don’t try to skip town,” he states like an order. Like if Danny did in fact try, he would be found and brought back.

It didn’t even cross Danny’s mind.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he says tiredly, too fed up with the day to defend himself.

Red Robin watches him for a moment before nodding and disappearing out the room.

Danny slumps with a groan, finally sliding off the desk to shuffle to the couch, body flopping face first into the worn cushions.

It’s silent to everyone else but Danny.

“I know.”

…

“I know, Jack, but I don’t trust them. Even if he is your son.”

Danny never noticed the bug planted by Robin on the underside of the desk.

[evilminji]

Okay, as I have mentioned, I'm Ace AF. And you know that plot line in kids cartoons where the alien or foreign Warrior Royalty just sort of *violently kicks down door in full armor* "We Will Marry."? I?? Always said:

"Sure!" (#OhThankFUCK!)

Like what do you mean "No"? The powerful, attractive, monarch that is very into you has travel a great distance JUST to marry you! Now you don't have to date! They seem nice! You can skip the whole "trying to find a life partner" awkwardness.

So, Sudden New Fiancee(tm) how we doing this? Blended customs? Two weddings? One in your peoples traditions, one in mine? Should we invite your family? Tell me more about yourself.

God, this solves just... SO MUCH for me? No having to make small talk. No "do they like me?" Or "am I reading the signs here right?" No failed dates! It's positively ideal! AND they announced why they were qualified, in a VERY impressive show of power and prestige, when they arrived! Good lineage AND accomplished!! Very nice.

Don't get why everyone's so upset.

Sure the "we leave at once" thing that usually follows would have to be discussed, but that's what you DO as spouses. Really guys, it's like you think I'm incapable of common sense here.

And you know who probably agrees with me? Damian Wayne.

Hell is other people, INDEED. You expect him to just... randomly go up to people and try Courting them? What do you MEAN it's "creepy" to compile portfolios on eligible individuals of worthy bloodlines? How ELSE is he supposed to know if they are worth attempting to talk too?!

There are BILLIONS of humans on this gods forsaken rock, Richard! Is he supposed to just GUESS? Gamble and hope for LUCK? This is a MARRIAGE not a "best friends club"!

Then? Danny showes up.

Gotham heard her baby talking. Heard her KING being harassed by clearly plotting Observants and power hungry ghosts MANY times his age. Connected some dots. Formed themselves a new OTP.

Danny says "Fuck It". Worst he can say is No. According to Gotham, he is neither Shy not the meek obedient sort. Is in fact, VERY stabby. So if he's not interested he'll no doubt be BRUTALLY clear about that.

So? Danny gets Fright Knight. Go get him a horse. Someone fetch Cujo some armor. He's been told the guy like weapons and animals.

TIME TO BE IMPRESSIVE.

He goes FULL Regalia. Armor of solid night sky. Cape of frost and stardust. Crown like crack in reality itself, through which the cosmos gleam and shift. He gets a horse from the far frozen. They're wooly and carnivorous. Gets THE most impressive sword he can find to wear.

It's gonna be a gift, since he doesn't need it.

He does the whole "rend the skies open" thing. Fan fair and knights. Every title he's ever been given, no matter how embarrassing he find them in reality. And announces his intentions. Declares that ONLY Damian Wayne, aka. Robin, is WORTHY to Marry Him. And (in the traditional Ghost proposal of "either accept or tell me to fuck off" /w violence) Demands Damian accept his offer of Marriage.

Right there.

IN THE WATCHTOWER.

In front of EVERYBODY. And yes, ESPECIALLY the Bats. Who are making glitching, vaguely threatening DEMONIC NOISES. Because? You... you THREATEN the BABY? Death. Ten thousand years DEATH.

People are :O ing and backing away from the visible heatwave of unadulterated FURY being put off by Batman. Danny is nano-second from every bone his ANCESTORS had being reduced to a fine paste.

Then? Damian consider him... considers the sword being thrust in his direction, still held aloft in a steady and armored hand... contemplates those titles for a second...

And goes: "Acceptable. Very well, but I have demands."

N..... Nani the FUCK? Says local Bat-Dad. No??? You are NOT GETTING MARRIED.

Try to stop him. He very obviously IS, according to Damian, the man brought him a kick ass sword and has a giant green dog. Is the king of an ENTIRE REALITY. Yes, he realizes he probably COULD do better... but frankly? This one's cute. But if it upset you so... extended engagement. There. Happy?

NO! Because the JLA Dark are LOSING THEIR SHIT. Damian is still UNDERAGE. We don't even know how OLD this being is! NO MARRIAGE.

Damian is unimpressed. A whole six months? That he's likely already LIVED thanks to various timeloops, temporal shenanigans, and reality warping bits of fuckery? You're reaching.

Just? Marriage Meet Cute.

@hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe

[wannab3-writer]

Country Club Rivalry

PATRICK ZWEIG X CHILDHOOD FRIEND READER (some Art x reader)

NOTES : GOD, how I tried to make this an Art x Reader because I'm an Art GIRLIE, but Pat just had to come out on top for this one, truly…"

WARNINGS — 18 + content mdni, fem!reader, not proofread

wc: 5.3k

description:

When three friends work at the same country club, things are bound to get messy—especially when they have a bet about who can win over the reader first.

The Oakridge Country Club was bustling with its usual summer energy. Guests lounged by the pool, chatting under the striped umbrellas, while golf carts zipped along the winding paths. The sun blazed overhead, casting sharp shadows on the clay tennis courts where Patrick and Art were finishing their morning lessons.

You stood at the server station near the patio, jotting down drink orders on your notepad. It wasn't your first summer at the country club, but you still enjoyed the easy rhythm of the job—the way the breeze rustled through the trees, the laughter of kids playing by the pool, and the familiar faces of the regulars.

Patrick waved at you from across the tennis courts, his hair tousled from teaching. He was grinning like he always did when he'd just finished a good session. Art stood beside him, spinning his racket in his hand, looking relaxed and effortlessly charming.

"Hey, how's your section?" Patrick called, jogging over with Art trailing behind. He was wearing his usual tennis gear, white shirt, and shorts, with a blue visor to keep the sun out of his eyes.

"Pretty good," you replied, glancing at your notepad. "Mrs. Anderson is on her third mimosa, so I'm expecting a big tip."

Art laughed. "Better watch out, she's got a mean backhand when she's tipsy. I saw her smack a golf ball into the pond last week. Her caddie still hasn't recovered."

Patrick chuckled, shaking his head. "Classic Mrs. Anderson. Did you know she was a tennis champion back in the day? She could probably still give us a run for our money."

Art leaned in, lowering his voice. "Speaking of giving people a run for their money, I heard you've been racking up the tips lately. What's your secret?"

You shrugged with a playful smile. "Just being nice to people, Art. You should try it sometime."

Patrick laughed and nudged Art's shoulder. "Yeah, Art, maybe if you focused less on flirting with every guest and more on your job, you'd make some tips, too."

Art feigned shock. "Me? Flirting? I don't know what you're talking about." He turned to you with a charming grin. "Do you think I'm a flirt?"

You raised an eyebrow. "A little, but that's your thing, right? I mean, it's not like you're betting on who can get the most milfs phone numbers or anything." Clearly sarcastic.

Patrick shot Art a look, then quickly turned to you with a smile. "Yeah, nothing like that. We just... like to keep things interesting."

Art nodded, but you noticed a brief flicker of guilt in his eyes. It was subtle, but it made you wonder if there was more to their competition than met the eye.

"Well, whatever it is, just don't bring any drama into my section, okay?" you said, playfully tapping your notepad against Art's chest. "I've got enough to deal with without you two causing trouble."

Patrick raised his hands in mock surrender. "No drama, I promise. We'll be on our best behavior."

Art winked. "Scout's honor."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smile. Despite the teasing and the occasional competitive streak, you knew they meant well. It was just another summer at the country club, where the days were long, the sun was hot, and anything could happen.

Anything.

---

The Club had settled into its evening rhythm by the time you reached the bar. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, casting soft glimmers on the stone patio. The air was warm and fragrant with the scent of blooming jasmine and freshly cut grass. A live band played classic rock covers, the gentle strum of guitars mingling with the murmur of patrons relaxing after a day of golf and tennis.

Patrick was at a corner table, nursing a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He looked up from his phone and waved you over, a broad smile lighting up his face. He'd changed out of his tennis instructor uniform into a casual blue polo and jeans, his hair still damp from a quick shower.

"Hey, there you are!" he said, using his foot to pull out a chair for you. "I was starting to think you forgot about me."

You shook your head with a grin. "Please, I could hear your bad jokes all the way from the kitchen. Had to come and see what was so funny."

Patrick laughed, setting his phone aside. "You know I'm hilarious. You just pretend not to appreciate my sense of humor."

You took a seat and glanced around. The bar was lively but not overcrowded. A group of older couples was playing cards at a nearby table, and a few teenagers from the tennis program were playing darts in the corner. It felt like the perfect end to a busy day.

"So, what are we drinking tonight?" Patrick asked, gesturing to the menu. "I've got whiskey, but I hear the margaritas are pretty good."

You considered for a moment. "Let's go with the margaritas. I need something fruity after today."

Patrick flagged down the bartender, who quickly mixed up a pitcher of margaritas with a generous splash of tequila. He poured you a glass and handed it over with a mock bow. "Your drink, my liege. May it bring you all the fruitiness you desire."

You raised your glass with a chuckle. "Thank you, William,” you turn towards the brunet “To Patrick, who somehow managed not to break any tennis rackets today. It's a new record!"

Patrick clinked his whiskey against your glass. "And to you, for not spilling any drinks on Mrs. Anderson. She's still mad about last summer's 'mimosa incident.'"

You rolled your eyes, remembering the time you accidentally spilled a tray of drinks on Mrs. Anderson's white dress during a particularly hectic brunch. "Don't remind me. I had to run for cover like I was in a war zone. I thought she’d have my head.”

Patrick laughed, the sound warm and familiar. "You should've seen her face. It was like you'd ruined her entire day. But hey, at least you got to keep your job."

As the two of you shared stories and relived old memories, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow across the patio. The band transitioned to a slower song, adding a mellow vibe to the evening.

Art arrived a little later, his tennis gear replaced by a button-down snap back and jeans. He had a confident stride and a smile that seemed to draw attention wherever he went. He slid into the seat next to you, his presence bringing a shift in the energy at the table.

"What's up, party people?" he said, his voice smooth and inviting. "I hope you saved some margaritas for me."

Patrick handed him a glass. "Of course, wouldn't want our little Arty to feel left out.”  He added leaning into Art smirking. “What took you so long anyways,  Shelly needed some one-on-one time to work on her underhand? Or what. ”

You smirked. "You really think He’s that charming, huh?” she turns towards Art looking into his eyes “What’s your secret hmm? Is it the cologne?"

Art leaned in with a grin. "It's all about confidence. And maybe a little bit of cologne. But mostly confidence."

Patrick rolled his eyes. "Right, because confidence is what you exude. You should've seen Art on the tennis court today. He was so confident he almost hit a kid with a tennis ball."

Art raised an eyebrow. "Almost. That's the key word. No harm, no foul."

The banter continued, the three of you falling into an easy rhythm. Art's charm contrasted with Patrick's laid-back, cheeky style, and you found yourself enjoying the playful back-and-forth.

As the evening progressed, you noticed Patrick watching Art with a hint of unease. It was subtle, like a flicker in his eyes whenever Art made you laugh a little too hard or leaned in a little too close.

---

"All right, we're here. Try not to break anything, okay? Last time you were here, my mom couldn't find her favorite vase for a week."

Art smirked, stepping inside. "That wasn't my fault! How was I supposed to know it was on top of the fridge? Who puts a vase on the fridge, anyway?"

Art dropped his bag in his Patrick’s room and looked around. The place had an eclectic charm—walls lined with tennis trophies, faded concert posters, and family photos. A stack of video games sat beside the TV.

Patrick led the way into the kitchen, grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge. He tossed one to Art, who caught it with ease. "So, what are you in the mood for? I was thinking pizza, but we can order something else if you're not into it."

Art popped open the bear and took a sip. "Pizza sounds good. Just no anchovies, okay? That stuff is nasty."

Patrick laughed, opening his own soda. "You're missing out, man. Anchovies are a delicacy." He grabbed the phone and dialed the pizza place, ordering a large with pepperoni and sausage. "There, something a bit more your speed. Happy now?"

Art nodded, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, that'll work. So, you ready for tomorrow? Two-on-two is serious business. We can't afford to slack off."

Patrick waved a hand dismissively. "Please, I'm always ready. Besides, we've got the advantage. I mean, have you seen the other teams? Half of them can't even hit a backhand."

Art chuckled. "You're so modest, Patrick. What would you do without me to keep you humble?"

Patrick shrugged with a grin. "Probably win more matches.”

Art threw a punch at Patrick's shoulder, and Patrick pretended to wince. They both laughed, the kind of easy camaraderie that came from years of friendship and shared jokes. But there was also a subtle tension in the air, like they were both aware of the unspoken rivalry that had been growing between them.

"So," Patrick said, leaning back against the kitchen island, biting his lip "you and […] seemed pretty chummy tonight. What's the story there? You trying to make a move, or what?" The familiar smirk making its way to his face.

Art raised an eyebrow, his expression guarded. "We're just talking. Nothing wrong with getting to know someone, right?" He finished wetting his lips.

Patrick smirked. "Sure, nothing wrong with that.” He shrugged.  “But you're not just getting to know her. You're flirting, and we both know it." He took a couple steps forward “Basically eye fucking her, to be honest” He only smiled.

Art shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Oh, come on Pat, maybe, She's just fun to be around, you know. No need to be gross." Art gave him a wry smile. "You know me. I just go with the flow. If she likes hanging out with me, who am I to complain?"

Patrick leaned in, lowering his voice. "Or maybe, you think she's interested in you. Is that what this is about? You think you've got a shot?" His eyes scanning arts face.

Art met his gaze, his expression calm but with a hint of challenge. "I don't know, man. Maybe I do. What does it matter to you huh? You think you've got the inside track because you've known her longer?"

Patrick grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I mean, it doesn't hurt. We've got a lot of history. I'm charming, good-looking, and I've got the best jokes. What's not to like?" he goes back to lean on the counter. “Besides, I’ve seen the real her, all of it, kinda gives me a little advantage don’t you think.”

Art halts, stops chewing his gum, straitening himself up. “What’s that supposed to mean Patrick.”

“Exactly what it you think.” He kissed his teeth, kicking off the counter and going back to looking inside the fridge.

Art chuckled, but there was a hint of envy in his laugh. "Well, if you're so confident, maybe we should make it interesting. How about a little bet? See who can win her over first?"

Patrick waved his hand dismissively. "Little Arty wants a bet he’ll lose?” He chuckles. “No games. Just a simple bet. May the best man win."

Art held out his hand, and Patrick shook it with a grin. The bet was sealed, but there was an underlying seriousness in Art's eyes. As they waited for the pizza, the two friends continued their banter, but there was a new edge to their jokes—like the stakes had just gotten a little higher.

---

A week after their doubles match, the annual Oakridge Country Club gala was in full swing, the ballroom bustling with elegantly dressed members and guests. The chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting warm light onto the neatly set tables, while smooth jazz played in the background. You stood near the entrance, surveying the glamorous crowd, your fitted dress drawing approving glances from a few partygoers.

Art was the first to spot you, leaning against a wall with a cocktail in hand, chatting up club regulars. He was dressed in a sharp suit, but he carried himself with a boyish charm. His grin was wide as he motioned for you to come over, his eyes moving from your head to your heels in a way that felt like a visual undressing.

"Wow," he said, raising his glass, "you clean up nice. I was expecting you to show up in your waiter outfit or something. I'm glad you went with the dress, though. Much more... appealing."

You gave him a playful smirk, stepping up to the bar. "Thanks, Art. I do my best to impress." You glanced at his drink. "Are you trying to get a head start on the partying? We haven't even hit the dance floor yet."

He took a sip, his gaze lingering on your lips. "Hey, I like to loosen up a bit before the main event. Keeps things interesting. Besides, you can't blame a guy for wanting to enjoy himself, right? You gonna  help me enjoy my night and keep me company?"

Patrick, who was laughing with a group nearby, walked over just in time to catch Art’s comment. He gave Art a look of mild disapproval, then turned to you with a sly smile.

"Don't listen to him. He's just trying to get you alone so he can talk your ear off about his latest tennis game.” Patrick shrugged, looking at Art with a smirk. "So boring. I was thinking we could have some real fun; you know? A little adventure never hurt anyone." He leaned closer, his voice barely audible over the music. "Besides, I know all the best spots around here. Private spots. You'd love it."

Art shook his head, clearly not amused. "Come on, Patrick. We're here to enjoy the gala, not to sneak off like we're in high school. Why don't we all just enjoy the party and see what happens?"

Patrick grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, Art. But if you change your mind,” he turn towards her. “You know where to find me. I'll be the one having a good time." He turned to you with a suggestive wink while walking backwards to god knows where.

Art rolled his eyes, then smiled at you in a more relaxed manner. "Sorry about him, he’s not really allowed to leave the house. He's a good guy, but he doesn't always know when to tone it down. If you want, I can keep him from getting too out of hand. I wouldn't want him to scare you off." He says mocking Patrick as he walked away.

You laugh full heartedly glancing at Patrick, who was already chatting with a couple of other guests, his flirtatious demeanor on full display. " Thanks so for watching out for me. It can get a little overwhelming with him around." You continued smiling.

Art nodded smiling, his expression kind. " I was thinking we could get some food, maybe hit the dance floor. What do you think?" Art suggested, leading the way. "I'm sure Patrick will join us once he's done charming the entire room."

Patrick shot Art a mischievous look but didn't follow immediately. You could tell he was reveling in the attention, his flirtatious behavior attracting more than a few curious glances from the other guests.

The band switched to a slow, romantic melody, and Art extended his hand to you with a charming smile. "Care to dance?" he asked, his eyes warm and inviting.

You nodded, accepting his offer, and he led you onto the dance floor. His touch was gentle yet confident as he pulled you close, swaying to the music with practiced ease.

As you danced with Art, you felt yourself relaxing into his embrace. His presence was comforting, his movements smooth and graceful. You couldn't help but smile as you looked up at him, feeling a somewhat new sense of closeness.

Halfway through the song, Patrick appeared out of nowhere, a cocky grin on his lips. "Mind if I cut in?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

Before you could respond, he swept you away from Art, taking you into his arms with a boldness that made you some type of way. His touch was hot, his body pressed close to yours as he guided you across the dance floor.

"So, you replacing your best friend with that ginger?" he asked, his voice low and suggestive. "Boring you to tears yet?" He raised a brow.

You laughed, unable to resist his playfulness. "Hmm maybe. He's actually a great dancer, unlike some people."

Patrick smirked, pulling you even closer. "Yeah, but can he do this?" With a sudden flourish, he spun you around, his movements fluid and confident. "Do I need to remind you why I’m better.” He paused.

“How, I’m better.”

You chuckled rolling your eyes, enjoying the thrill of dancing with Patrick. He was unpredictable, to say the least, his smile contagious. But as much as you were drawn to him, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for leaving Art behind.

Patrick reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and offering you one with a sly grin. "Care for a smoke?" he asked, lighting his own with practiced ease.

You just shook your head with hesitant smile. “I really shouldn’t, Pat. You know I’m trying to quit.”

He looks you up and down with a seductive look.  

“We’ve all got our guilty pleasures, darling.”

As the song came to an end, Patrick took your hand, leading you away from the dance floor and out onto the club’s private beach. The cool breeze off the ocean felt refreshing against your skin, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore was soothing.

You hesitated for a moment, then accepted the offer, taking the cigarette from him and inhaling deeply. The nicotine hit you like a rush of adrenaline, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration as you exhaled a cloud of smoke into the night air.

"So, what do you think?" Patrick asked, his eyes searching yours. "Having fun yet?"

You nodded, feeling a sense of liberation wash over you. "Yeah, I am. Thanks for... you know, stealing me away." You added motioning to the cigarette.

Patrick grinned, leaning in closer. "Anytime, sweetheart. Just say the word, and I'll whisk you away to paradise."

You laughed, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest.

Patrick decided to sit down in the sand, his cigarette glowing in the darkness as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. You sat beside him, savoring the familiar scent of his cologne.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, then shot you a sidelong glance. "You know, I was just thinking about that first summer at tennis camp," he said, his voice low and playful. "I mean, it's where it all started, right? Just a couple of kids swinging rackets and making trouble."

You smiled at the memory. "Yeah, it's crazy to think about how much has changed since then. Who would've thought you'd actually make it big in tennis? Meanwhile, I could barely keep the ball on the court."

Patrick laughed, a warm, hearty sound that cut through the night air. "Yeah, well, I guess I had a little more motivation to stick with it. You were off climbing trees and playing in the woods, and I was stuck with a bunch of coaches yelling at me to hit harder."

"Hey," you replied with a smirk, "it's not like I was useless. I remember showing you all the best spots to hide when you wanted to skip practice."

Patrick nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I remember. You were the queen of avoiding responsibility. If it weren't for you, I'd probably have become a strait-laced tennis prodigy. Instead, you dragged me into the wilderness to make forts and find weird bugs."

You both chuckled, reminiscing about those lazy summer days when tennis camp was more of a suggestion than a requirement. But then Patrick's expression turned sly, and he leaned in a bit closer.

"Speaking of weird things from our past," he said, his voice dripping with playful insinuation, he nudged you. "You remember that bet we made? The one about if we were both green by the time you turned 16, we'd, you know, be each other's first?"

Your face grew warm at the memory. It had been a silly bet between two best friends who figured they'd never find anyone else in their small circle. But the fact that you followed through with it made it more than just a joke.

"Yeah," you replied, pretending to be nonchalant, "I remember, Pat we’re not that old. It was a dumb bet, but I guess we kept our word, didn't we?"

Patrick nodded, a cheeky grin spreading across his lips. "We sure did. And you know, I wasn't expecting it to be so... memorable. I thought we'd just laugh about it later, but it was kind of nice. You know, like a rite of passage or something."

You laughed, trying to deflect his innuendo. "A rite of passage? Yeah, right. More like a hilarious disaster. I mean, you had no idea what you were doing."

Patrick raised an eyebrow, his grin growing wider. "Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad. Besides, you were just as clueless. At least I managed to keep my cool, mostly."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but smile at his cockiness. "Mostly, huh? If I remember correctly, you tripped over your own shoes and nearly fell face first."

Patrick groaned, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. "Okay, maybe I was a little clumsy. But you have to admit, it was an experience neither of us will forget. And hey, we did it together. That's gotta count for something, right?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of nostalgia and fondness. "Yeah, it does. I'm just glad it didn't ruin our friendship. It could've been awkward, but it wasn't."

Patrick leaned in, his gaze locking with yours. "Of course it wasn't. We were best friends. We still are. And besides, even if it was a bit awkward, it was worth it. You know, just to say we did it." He flicked the ash from his cigarette, then added with a wink, "And hey, I was your first. That's something not everyone can say."

You laughed, pushing him lightly on the shoulder. "Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head. You still have a long way to go before you become a pro. But if you need any advice on how to avoid tripping over your own shoes, I'm here for you."

Patrick grinned, taking a final drag from his cigarette before tossing it into the sand. " If you ever want to make another bet, I'm always up for it. " He Looks at you seductively, his eyes full of mischief. " I think if you were to give me another chance, you’d find that I’ve improved quite a bit. " He gives you his signature smirk.

You scan his face trying to find sincerity in his words, not sure how you’d feel if he was. “What are you trying to get at Patrick?”

“Nothing at all.” He raised his hands in a surrender, cigarette in mouth looking away. “I’m just saying, I feel like I deserve a redemption arc,” He takes his cigarette putting out in the sand. “I wasn’t the most…giving you can say.” He looks back at you, under his brows. “And I just want to show you that I’ve changed, for the better.” He offers a smile.

You just nod your head in fake agreement. “Uhh, how much have you had to drink tonight pat?  Is it time to call you a cab?” You questioned with a week smile.  

“Oh, shut up, I’m dead sober.”  He said leaning in.  He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Besides, what's life without a little adventure?"

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his touch. It was a simple gesture, but there was something in the way he did it that made your heart skip a beat. Patrick had always had a way of pushing boundaries, but tonight, he seemed more deliberate, more intent.

"Adventure?" you replied, your voice slightly breathless. "Are you planning something?"

Patrick's smile grew, his eyes locking with yours. "Maybe. But you know me—always full of surprises." He stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on your waist. "But I promise, it'll be a good one."

You felt a rush of heat at his touch, the closeness between you stirring something deep within. Patrick leaned in, his lips just inches from yours. "So, do you trust me?" he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "No I don’t, Patrick, because I know you. Why? What are you up to?"

Patrick's gaze grew more intense, his eyes fixed on yours. "I just wanted to try something." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, a teasing touch that sent a jolt of electricity through you.

The kiss deepened, the heat between you building as Patrick pulled you closer. His hand slid around your waist, holding you firmly as he kissed you with a newfound intensity. The sound of the waves seemed to fade away, replaced by the pounding of your own heart.

Patrick's other hand cupped your cheek, his touch gentle yet assertive. His kiss was slow and deliberate, each movement a carefully orchestrated dance that left you breathless. As his lips moved against yours, you felt a rush of desire, a connection that seemed to transcend words.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with emotion. He looked at you, his lips slightly parted, as if he was trying to read your thoughts.

“Show me.” You said looking him deep in his eyes barley a millimetre away from his lips.

“Show you what darling?” He question with a smile gracing his lips

“How you’re better than Art.”

That’s not what he was expecting at all. Maybe a ‘show me how you’ve improved.’ But certainly not you using his own words against him, That’s for sure.

That didn’t stop Patrick's smile from getting bigger though, as he moved his hands all over you, bringing you in for another wet and sloppy kiss. He slowly laid you down into the sand using his teeth to slide up your dress around your waits.

He slowly kissed your stomach stopping at the hem of your thong. Moving it to the side, he slides one of his digits up and down your slit.

Looking up to you with a sly smile, he lets out a contented sigh. " Give me some of this sweet pussy." With the excited flattening of his tongue, he dives right in, right there, on the beach. Before you even having a chance to fully lay down, Patrick slides his arms beneath your legs and pulls you in. 

As you begin to grind into him and yearn for more of his tongue, you play with one of your tits. Suddenly too shy to look him in the eye, you reach down and tug on his hair. You can feel your cheeks getting hot with shame at how quickly you folded for him.   “Tongue fuck me, please, Pat. When did you get so good at this?”

 he consumes you. his hands are playing with your ass and thighs. He kneads the skin and spreading you out. He trust his tongue into your entrance and explores your pussy.  Less than a minute later, your walls start to twitch around his tongue. He takes in all your cum. When he looks up back at you, he just gives you a sly smirk. 

Patrick rolled onto his back beside you, his chest heaving slightly from the intensity of what just happened. You try to get your breathing back to normal when suddenly you let out a random laugh.

Patrick turned his head, raising an eyebrow. "What's so funny?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, but his face still wet from your essence.

You shrugged, trying to stifle your laughter. "I don't know, it just hit me—how did we end up here? One minute we're at the gala, and the next we're... well, doing this." You gestured at the beach, and your unruly appearance.

Patrick grinned, rolling onto his side to face you. "Maybe it's fate," he said, his voice soft and playful. "Or maybe it's just because I couldn't resist pulling you away for a little... private time." He winked, his cheeky grin only growing wider.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the warmth that spread through your chest. "Or maybe it’s because you and Art have a weird little bet going on, and for some reason, I’m in the middle of it." you replied, a teasing edge to your tone.

Patrick frowns sitting up to look at you properly. " You know about that?" He’s confused.

You let out a chuckle. "Patrick, I’m not a dumbass, like i said, i know you. And i know Art, you guys have been total try hards for the last week, sure, you’re just a whore and will flirt with anything that has a vagina, but even Art was over doing it." You swatted at his shoulder, trying to hide your smile. "Patrick, seriously," you said, though your tone lacked any real reprimand. "You always push your luck, you know that?  You leaned in a little closer, your eyes locking with his.

Patrick's grin softened, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. "Yeah, well, sometimes you need a little excitement," he replied, his hand resting on your hip, a gentle reminder of his presence. "And you can't deny that you like it when I take charge. Right?" His fingers traced a light pattern along your hipbone, his touch both playful and suggestive.

You sighed, the subtle tension between you becoming more palpable. "Maybe," you replied, your voice low and teasing. "But don't think I'll always let you get away with it. Sometimes, you need to earn it."

Patrick laughed, a deep, rich sound that seemed to carry on the breeze. "Oh, don't worry," he said, his eyes narrowing with that familiar mischievous look. "I'll work for it. You just let me know when you want me to turn on the charm." He leaned in again, his lips hovering near yours, the warmth of his breath a tantalizing invitation.

You closed the gap, letting his lips meet yours in a brief, soft kiss. It was playful but laced with an underlying intensity, a promise of more to come. When you pulled back, you saw the surprise in his eyes, followed by that trademark grin.

"Consider it a preview," you said, giving him a gentle nudge. "But don't get too cocky, or I’ll make sure you lose this bet."

------------------------

Thank you for reading! Please leave comments, likes, and reblogs; all are appreciated! Also, feel free to send requests!

[luimagines]

Doggo request 2: Isekai Reader who had brought their BIG boy dog? Like the ones that are almost as big as bears. I forgot the breed name.

Your wish is my command. Let's make it a Tiberian Mastiff. :D

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

"Ok, Hudson. Easy boy." You gently held the leash of the behemoth you called your baby.

The dog was the runt of the litter, but ended up growing into one of the biggest dogs on the planet. That's what you tell yourself anyway. In your heart and in his, he is just a little guy who wants hugs and kisses and for someone to throw the ball.

"it's going to kill us." The one you were told to call 'The Traveler' all but threw himself backwards when you brought your dog close to them.

Granted, most people tend to get a bit nervous when your dog steps onto the scene, but that's generally because he's huge, not because they're actually afraid of him. Still, you suppose you should have seen this coming.

"No, he's not. He's a sweetheart. Come pet him."

"No thank you."

"I'll do it!" The Rancher stepped forward with a bright smile on his face. You admired his instant bravery. It was a nice change of pace. He walked right up to the two of you, seemingly knowing his way around the creature.

Hudson sniffed his hand and his pants, letting the young man scratch his mane and his muzzle. You knew the procedure by now. It was impressive that Hudson hadn't barked yet. Maybe he was sniffing the fur pelt the man was wearing.

"He's a gorgeous creature. What did you say he was again?"

"He's a Tiberian Mastif, bred to hunt and guard against bears." You say proudly. Husdon had proved to be invaluable where you lived. He took his guarding duty very seriously and hadn't let you down since.

"I'm sorry, bears?" The boy with massive facial scarring seemed to light at the idea. "He's that strong?"

"I mean... I don't have bears where I live but he certainly scares off the coyotes and wolves."

"Wolves?" The youngest asks, hesitantly coming closer. He sneaks a pet onto Hudson's side.

"Someone better keep an eye on Wolfie then." The oldest with the scar over his eye, looks out into the distance.

"Wolfie?" You ask in question.

"A local wolf that seems to follow us where ever we go." The boy with pink hair speaks up. You really need to remember their names better. Didn't his start with an L? "Your dog wouldn't attack him, would he?"

"Oh, he might." You frown. "That would be a problem."

"I doubt it." The Rancher shrugs. "The wolf knows his way around. I'm sure he can take care of himself."

"Ok, well I don't want a wolf attacking my dog either." You put your hands on your hips. "That's a fight tot the death. Hudson won't give up easily."

"Wolfie knows better." The shortest- The Blacksmith, you remind yourself- tells you with another shrug of his shoulders. "Besides, you have all of us with you. We'll get between the two of them should anything happen."

You doubt that. This kid is small enough to ride your dog like a horse. "I wouldn't recommend it but I'll keep that in mind."

He seems to read your mind for a split second because he bites his lip as if he's thought of something that could get him trouble. "...Do you think he'll let me ride him?"

"Not a chance."

[vivwritesfics]

Better Than He Ever Was - MV1

This gif makes me feral - I am on my KNEES

Y/N is pregnant and Max is sweating

Related works: Mini Me Prodigy

When Y/N Verstappen found out she was pregnant with Fabian, Max was terrified. He was utterly, utterly terrified.

He played it well, cheering and happy smiles when Y/N showed him the pregnancy test. To everybody on the outside, he was the overjoyed father to be, talking about Y/N and their baby on the way any chance he got.

There were very few people who saw beneath the facade Max was putting on. The first was Christian Horner, who himself was like a father to Max. The next was Charles Leclerc, who was way too excited at rhe prospect of being an uncle that he forgot he wouldn't actually be related to the baby.

Both said the same thing: that Max should talk to Y/N about it.

But where was he to begin? How did he tell her, after seeing how happy she was, that he wasn't ready to have a baby.

When she started showing? Oh boy.

It was never something Y/N wanted to keep hidden. As soon as she had all the tests she had taken come back positive, she posted something to all of her social media's. Max did, too, playing his part well.

Y/N didn't wear baggy clothes to hide her bump; she showed it off with pride. At every single grand prix she'd be standing beside her husband, hand over her stomach and the press took pictures of them.

Most husbands, when their wife's baby bump began showing, would be over the moon. But when Y/N started showing, it just made Max more fearful.

Y/Ns very first proper indication of the was when they were discussing baby names.

Any moment she got, Y/N was writing down potential names. She had at least twenty of each.

"How do you like Felix?" Y/N asked him as they watched a movie together. Max had been sim racing all day; this was the first proper moment she'd had to spend with him. "Or Daniel?"

"Daniel can be the middle name if it's a boy," Max said as he fed her a Malteaser.

Y/N moved over to her list of girls names. "If it's a girl, I liked Mila. Thought Mila Verstappen had a really nice ring to it."

Max just hummed.

It was two weeks after that Y/N finally sat him down.

"What's going on with you?" She asked, her hand resting on her bump. That morning her snack of choice had been stroopwafels, and she'd accidentally finished the entire box (but who could blame her? They're addictive).

"What do you mean?" Asked Max as he lifted the box to see what he was inside. Nothing, empty. He made a mental note to buy more.

A terrible, horrible feeling settled in Y/Ns stomach. "Please, Maxie," she placed her hand over his, rubbing her thumb over his wrist. "Tell me what's going on. I'm begging you!"

Max let out a huff. He hated himself. "I love you," he said, which definitely wasn't concerning. "I love you so much and I know how excited you are to have our baby, but I don't know if I can do it."

Her heart was beating so loud she was sure Max could hear it. "Wha-what are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say that I'm so fucking scared, Y/N. I'm terrified of being a dad. What if I raise our child like my dad raised me and the kid ends up like me? I'd never be able to forgive myself if that happened."

Oh. This wasn't a dire as Y/N thought it was. This was something she could deal with. "Come here," she said softly and tried to pull his chair closer. Max shuffled over. He let Y/N wrap her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Do you remember last summer, when we went on holiday with my sister and her kids? Do you remember how they loved you so much that they wouldn't leave you alone?"

They'd rented out a villa. Max and Y/N had just come back from their honeymoon when Y/N's sister had invited them away.

As soon as they had their things unpacked, the kids grabbed their uncle Max's hands and dragged him into the pool. "Let's race!" The oldest shouted. Max was more than happy to oblige. He raced them to the other side of the pool and back, letting them win, of course.

When Y/N and his sister started on lunch, Max was blowing up the inflatable pool toys and looking after the baby. He was a natural with all three of them. Y/N watched them out of the window as she buttered the bread and passed it to her sister. That was when she realised how wonderful of a father Max was going to be. That was when she realised she wanted to have his children.

By the end of the holiday, the children were obsessed with him. According to Y/N's sister they didn't stop talking about him until at least two weeks after the holiday.

Max nodded his head. At first he'd been secretly reluctant to entertain the kids. But he loved it, and he actually found it fun. Of course, it wouldn't be the same when it was his own child.

"You're going to be an amazing father, Max. You're so kind and caring and kids love you. Plus, you're aware of how shitty your dad was to you, you know what you have to differently," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "I'll be there with you every step of the way," Y/N whispered and kissed the top of her head.

Max was still terrified, but he was trying not to be. But Y/N saw him change. He really did become that cheering and happy father he was pretending to be at the start.

Aside from Formula One, Max's life became getting Y/N whatever she and the baby were craving. Stroopwafels, mostly.

They discussed names more when Max became more comfortable. He was a big fan of Nora. Nora Sophie Verstappen. It had a very nice ring to it, Max thought. Little baby Nora.

They'd struggled to settle on a name for a boy. After Max had suggested his mothers name for the baby's middle name, Y/N was afraid Jos' name was going to be thrown into the mix. Not after all of Max's fears and anxiety. They'd decided Hugo, Hugo Verstappen was to be his name.

If it was up to Y/N, Jos wouldn't be in the child's life. But, of course, it wasn't just up to her. It was a decision she and Max had to make together.

When they found out they were having a little boy, Y/N and Max were over the moon. They decorated the nursery, painting the walls to be like a Formula One track. The bottom third was all grass, the middle was the track and the rest was blue skies with fluffy clouds.

The track went all the way around the room, with little race cars painted onto the track. There was a little Red Bull with a 33 on it, and a little Ferrari with a 16. It was a friend who painted it for them, going into intricate details for the cars and garages.

And then Y/N went into labour.

All of those fears Max had managed to get past came flooding back. His wife was about to give birth to his little boy.

Max wasn't much help through the delivery. Actually, through most of it he wasn't allowed in the delivery room, since he was panicking too much.

He wasn't a Hugo. That was what Y/N and Max decided the moment he was born. He was a Fabian. Fabian Hugo Verstappen. He was the most gorgeous little boy in the world. That was all Max could think as he stared at him, cradles in his wife's arms.

His son. His boy.

"Welcome to the world, Fabian Hugo Verstappen."

[azure-cherie]

Some astro observations pt:4🧡

It's been a year I have done an observations post ☠️ I hope you guys enjoy this one 💟

In case you want a reading :

Paid readings, paid readings 2 , masterlist

🍊 Combust or retrograde Venus can be cured through worship of Devi , respecting women and general and treating yourself well . Whereas combust mercury can be cured through practicing mathematics. Combust Saturn through practicing more routines.

🍊 Rahu synastry makes you delusional true but ketu synastry is even more delusional you will feel a sense of familiarity with the person you have the synastry with but soon you will realise oh it was all play and eventually the ketu person will actually start hating the moon person .

🍊 I think purva bhadrapada is he sign of sati as when sati was born on earth to be wife of Shiva only the expansiveness of purva bhadrapada could make her realise her true potential as mahadevi herself how she's nature and everything that truly exists in the cosmos . Likewise purva bhadrapada expands their horizons to realise their true purpose . I found some purva bhadrapada prominence in her media depiction of sati as well .

🍊 Purva bhadrapada are also truly sweet and kind people who have so much intelligence but it stays hidden for the early part of their life .

🍊 Purva Ashadha as a young girl or a maiden is often envied by her peers for being pretty , use protective things as a means to protect from evil eye , PA is associated with liver and evil eye can cause bumps in the face or skin disease .

🍊 Shravana girls have the quite confidence, they're genuinely bubbly but it's hidden in the quite girl interior, they know who they are and are constantly working on themselves.

🍊 With pisces placements in a man's chart one can have a good balance between the masculine and the feminine energy, I have generally seen pisces creating a nice atmosphere for their wives or the girls they love . They enjoy cooking and also get a lot of girl friends around them who trust them .

🍊 Gemini guys in general are the most confused people though girls can be assertive or be quickly change the men are just diplomatic about everything.

🍊 Vishakha women have the tridosha of kapha , which makes them effective in transforming their body fast .

🍊 I've seen that you might attract the sign of your 7th house but mostly it doesn't work out 💀 rather the sign in your 12th house works better , the chemistry is unbeatable and they treat you so well . Even in my case Taurus is my 12th house 💀 Taurus men be spoiling me 👑

🍊 Sun moon synastry is so passive agressive

🍊 Your atmakaraka can provide you insights on which Devi you should worship , for example if mars go for some ugra Devi like Kali , Durga etc . They can prove to be your ishtha or kuldevi please note that to find one's ishtha /kuldevi more things are to be considered.

🍊 Sun in the 10th house gives one fame but makes one work hard asf , when you're at the verge of giving up that's when true fame comes in to save you being the house of Saturn .

🍊 Jupiter in 3rd makes one materialistic they were the kids that were obsessed with new toys and gadgets as it generally makes one fidgety, also they were fulfilled in their wants for toys .

🍊 Combust mars in a girls chart overworks themselves because they feel a lack of vitality, they don't know where to exactly put efforts or what to do to make themselves feel better. Combust mars in a man's chart has the delusion of being masculine when in turn they do nothing to nourish their essence , true help in this case can be attained through puja in Tuesdays of Mangal Dev or Hanuman .

🍊 Ketu and mars can give hidden anger issues and can cause anger outbursts like Taurus mars . One way to combat that is to donate blood .

🍊 Saturn in 1H should do atleast one thing they don't like to do but is Essential for them everyday as this position might show feeling inferior or uninterested in themselves the act of doing something for themselves makes them more confident.

🍊 Mercury in combust , 6th house gives skin problems .

🍊 Rohini isn't materialistic for money but for comfort .

Thank you so much for reading, have a great day/night 🧡

[yumeka-sxf]

I'm finally home from my vacation and able to discuss the latest SxF chapter...all I can say is, I have a lot to say! I'll start with funny stuff first before I move on to analyzing...

Anya was especially hilarious in this chapter - where do I even start with her gremlin-ness? 😂 First off, there's her calling the butlers "henchlings' henchlings" (in the Japanese version, I believe she's using some mispronunciation of 弟子, which means "follower")

Then she calls out Twilight for being, well, Twilight, even giving his behavior its own acronym 🤣

She feels bad for George because his family isn't important enough for Twilight's aforementioned Twilighting 😅

And this doozy of a nickname for Bill!

In the Japanese version, she calls him something like "old man bully who hits people with balls" 😆

But joking aside, we get these profound words from Jeeves that seem to resonate with Twilight.

His words remind Twilight of the hypocrisy of his position: on the one hand, he agrees with Jeeves and wants the children to be able to grow up as they wish, without being burdened by the expectations of their parents. But that's exactly what he's been corralling Anya towards this whole time...doing whatever's best for Operation Strix, regardless of what may be best for her.

This scene reminded me of his musings when they first took Bond to the dog park; another case where he's aware that the morals he believes in are the opposite of his actions and yet...he continues with the mission.

I also think it's great that the other parents thank Anya for her bravery during the bus hijacking. Even if their kids don't act grateful, the parents should be on their behalf. Perhaps seeing this praise for Anya right before his eyes is what made Twilight feel even more guilt upon hearing Jeeves' words - he's seeing more and more what an exceptional girl she is despite not having the perfect traits for his mission, and yet he's still manipulating her (not realizing she's aware of the mission and wants to help).

But on that note, it's nice to see that George's dad and Becky's mom somewhat agree with Jeeves. As of now, I'd say out of all the Eden kids we've gotten to know, George and Becky seem to have the most decent families. I especially like how Becky's dad is adorably doting, to the point where he gets crushed when Becky asks Yor for help instead of him 😅 Also Martha having to reel him in, lol.

But despite being an overbearing dad, at least he isn't quick to jump on Loid supposedly "seducing" Becky 😂 He seems to not take it seriously, which is good since Becky is the one making the moves with her silly little girl crush.

Also Emile thinking Yor is pretty~ I'm surprised he had something nice to say about anyone connected to Anya, lol. I really want a chapter where Yor takes all the Eden kids on a playdate and they start thinking she's awesome like Becky does, even Damian.

Speaking of Yor, just when I thought she would be demoted to "background character" for whatever arc is coming, the last few panels give the impression that she'll have her next moment in the spotlight soon! Is she just destined to always catch Melinda when she falls? 😅

Not only are we getting more Yor/Melinda interactions next time, but also (hopefully) more of Anya reading Melinda's mind. I know there's theories floating around of how Donovan may be able to read minds and is possibly the one behind the experiments done on Anya, and that Melinda may have some psychic abilities too. Also some relation to that Arnold Crowley character introduced several chapters ago. I'm not good at theorizing, so I'll leave it to fans who are better with that kind of stuff 😅 But I think they're all good theories and I'm keeping my fingers crossed we'll get more insight into Desmond secrets very soon!

...but unfortunately the next new chapter won't be until November 25th, so we'll have to be satisfied with theories for now!

[dipperscavern]

Hiiii!!! Could you please write something abt comforting Robb after a long day of leading the war? Just some nice, sweet moments between the two of em xx

anon i SPECIALIZE in this department. thank you sm for the ask, i hope u enjoy !!

the tent is dark in the cloak of night, lightly illuminated by the various candles placed about. robb fiddles with the stuck buckle of his armor inside his tent, sighing in his growing frustration at the persistence of his armor refusing to unlatch.

he’s got squires for this, he knows, but he’s been around men all day. taken lives of fathers, brothers, sons, he can take off his own damn armor.

he gives it one final tug before he gives up, sitting back and running his hands down his face, trying his best to rub the sleep from his eyes. he’s got wounded to check on, meetings to hold & ravens to answer. he can take off his armor later.

he leans forward, putting his elbows on the table & resting his head in his hands, just for a moment.

….

approaching footsteps interrupt his moment of reprieve, and greywind rouses from where he lays guard at the door. robb hopes it’s just the guards changing shifts, but he knows better. it’s someone coming to ask him for something. someone coming to tell him what he should be doing instead of what he has been. pigs are flying and he must fix it.

he closes his eyes, and he hears someone enter the tent. the guards are obligated to announce everyone’s arrival, are they not? who could they possibly let in without hesitation?

“what is it?”

his tone is harsher than he intends. he’s snappy, even when he doesn’t mean to be. when he gets no answer, he looks up, and it’s you. his expression softens in record time, guilt crawling up his spine. he puts his head in his hands again, sighing at his own stupidity. what kind of king speaks to his people like he just did? to his lady, nonetheless?

you walk over to him, wordless, and begin to unlatch the stuck buckle. it lets go in record time, and you move to the next. robb sits back to give you access to all of his armor, and you step into his space. you must be a gift from the gods, he thinks. some kind of… divine blessing that he could never be worthy of receiving.

some time passes like that. you, taking off his armor, and robb, sitting back ever so patiently, resisting the urge to pull you closer. the weight lifts off him as the layers get shed, and he can’t help the few groans that escape him. how long has he been wearing this? ten, twelve hours? his body relaxes as you work, and in tune, his mind. his hand reaches for any part of you he can hold while not interrupting your work. he almost thinks he’s bothering you until he feels you lean into him, whether you’re aware of it or not. it brings the first smile he’s worn on his face all day.

eventually you pull him up to send him to bathe.

“y’look like death.”

your comment has a playful expression adorn robb’s face as he pulls you closer, and he starts poking your ribs, the place where you’re most ticklish. you yelp in surprise, squirming in his grasp and trying to get away. he’s got a good hold of you, and your pleas for him to stop are drowned out by your own laughter.

even if you’re the victim, you secretly enjoy the playful moments like these. the ones where you get a glimpse of the robb you fell in love with at winterfell — where you both were just two stupid kids, head over heels for each other.

“robb- robb!”

he eventually decides on mercy, stopping his assault. you sway in his arms, catching your breath & letting smaller giggles escape you. he leans in, kissing your temple in a half-apology (he’s not sorry) as he leaves to wash the grime off himself.

he comes back to find you lighting a candle you just replaced. the glow of its light illuminates your features, and you’ve never looked so pretty. he approaches you, and he can’t help himself, sliding an arm around your waist & pulling you into him. however stuck you may be, you seem content with your situation. you aren’t sure how long you stand like that, soaking in each others presence, watching the candles flame dance. you’re both so enamored in this moment, you don’t hear greywind moving to stand up.

“Your grace.”

you both turn around to see the subject of the intrusion. a guard has his head poked through the tents entrance, greywind stopping him from stepping inside.

“A raven.” the guard holds up a sealed scroll, punctuating his words. robb squeezes your waist ever so lightly as he lets go, moving to collect the scroll and add it to his list of things he must do. he nods, silently dismissing the guard, and the guard bows, going back to his post.

he breaks the seal, and whatever’s written on the paper has robb’s mood growing sour as he reads it. he sets it down on the table, putting his hands on the old wood and exhaling through his nose, leaning his weight against it. his eyes are distant, overworked brain no doubt at a loss of what to do anymore. how much can one man take?

you hate seeing him like this. the crown on his head is heavy, and war has not been kind. you wish you could fix it all yourself, but you can’t. the best you can do is stand unwavering by his side, there to prop him up when he’s buckling. so you do.

you move to join him, gently moving one of his arms off of the table to give you room to wrap your arms around him. he’s immediate in his response, tucking his head in your shoulder & pulling your body flush against his. he sighs, a shaky exhale against your shoulder. he needed this. bad. and he didn’t even know it, not until he got it.

not until he feels the heat and weight of your body pressed against his own, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck. he can feel you trying to embed yourself into his memory, a reminder that even when you’re not here, he can come back to this moment. when he feels like he’s drowning in the vast sea of battle and politics — that he once felt like he was drowning here, inside this tent, too. and you were there to pull him back up. somehow, impossibly, he finds himself pulling you closer.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Tim and Danny are half-siblings

Champagne glasses shine in the light like jewelry on people’s wrists and necks and cuff links and literally anywhere else someone can fit. Honestly it’s giving Tim a headache.

Thankfully he wasn’t the only one suffering at this pointless gala. Not that the fundraiser for homeless kids in the city is pointless, but did they really need to throw an expensive party?

“You okay, Timmy? You’ve sighed like four times now,” Dick comments on the comms they all have in.

“Yea, I just-“

“Mr. Drake! How nice it is to see you again. Have you met my son, Daniel?”

Tim turns to find Vlad Masters, CEO of dalvco, dragging along a teen who looked like he would rather be anywhere else but here. The boy, Daniel, glares at the hand holding him by the arm.

“It’s Danny,” like it was the hundredth time saying the phrase.

Masters pretends he doesn’t hear it.

Tim is already working on how to get out of this conversation. He’s dealt with too many parents pushing their kids in his direction tonight.

He throws on a smile anyway and holds out his hand for a shake.

“Tim Drake-Wayne, nice to meet you, Danny.”

Danny hesitates for a second and it results in a tightening of the jaw and subtle glance to where he was glaring before as if Masters just tightened his grip on the teen. Tim says nothing about the awkward pause.

Danny shifts his weight to subtly step on Masters polish shoes, drawing the attention of the man and allowing Danny to slip a piece of paper into the handshake. Tim raises his eyebrows for Danny to see before falling back to pleasant neutral. He tucks the note into his pocket casually.

“Same.”

Tim’s smile becomes a bit more genuine at the teenage behavior.

“Now then,” Masters jumps in after getting himself situated, “I had been meaning to make an appointment with you, but every time I call you are always busy.”

Tim knew this was coming.

“I’m not receiving any calls about the Drake name, Mr. Masters, as you are well aware.”

“You would think that as a young businessman you would look to someone with more experience.”

He really wasn’t being subtle at all, was he?

“I wonder how Bruce would react if he heard you,” Tim warns even though he knows full well Bruce can actively hear the conversation. He turns to Danny while Masters is recovering from that reminder. “Our newest adoptee is about your age. Duke Thomas. He should be around here somewhere if you want to exchange numbers.”

Danny opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off. Masters’ hand goes from clenching the teen’s arm to squeezing his shoulder in what appears to be a warning.

“Oh no, I forgot to mention, Daniel’s entire family and his friends, along with an unfortunate teacher, all died recently in a terrible accident. I was given custody of the poor boy, of course. He’s like the son I never had. Anyway, we wouldn’t want to upset him by replacing what he recently lost, would we? He needs his space to grieve.”

The condescension with the insensitive wording left Tim speechless for a moment, and with the silence over the comms so were everyone else listening.

Tim finds Danny glaring down at the floor with clenched fists. The teen rips himself away from Masters, and when the man tries to chastise him, he turns and stares the man down with such a hateful expression that Tim had to keep from tensing. He had seen too many of those looks in the field, usually on the faces of those he was fighting.

Whatever silent conversation that was happening between the two was ended with Danny grinding his teeth and running away to what looks to be the direction of the restrooms.

“So sorry about him,” Masters apologizes like it wasn’t his fault Danny almost committed a crime. “He’s a bit sensitive right now. I honestly had hoped he would feel better after getting out of the house.”

Masters sighs almost theatrically, “Enough of that. Here is my business card for when you finally decide to-“

Tim walked away before he could finish.

It’s in the bathroom that he finds Duke talking to the door of one of the stalls. They make eye contact but all that’s there is concern and confusion. Danny wasn’t talking.

“Hey, Danny, right? How you holding up? That was kinda rough, huh?” Tim tries.

Silence. Then, “Did you read my note?” He hears come from the other side, small and thin.

Right. The note. Tim pulls it out of his pocket quickly.

“Yea, yea, I read your note,” he lies as he’s quietly unfolding said note. “It’s just, you know… oh.”

Duke raises his brows in surprise at Tim’s sudden change in tone and expression. Tim couldn’t even guess what his face was doing but it was the least of his worries. The younger leans in to read over his shoulder.

“Oh,” agrees Duke.

I think we are half-siblings. Please help me take him down. I’ll send DNA if you need it. It can’t wait.

Oh indeed.

“What does ‘oh’ mean?” Dick suddenly asks over the comms which Tim forgot were still in. “Guys, seriously, do I need to come in there?”

“No,” Tim answers quickly only to realize that Danny can hear it too. “Duke, can you cover the door?”

“Sure, man.”

Tim takes a deep breath and shoves his emotions way down. Danny was already upset and obviously trusting Tim with this, he needed to be a solid support that his little brother this teen can lean on.

It could also be a trap.

“Danny, can you come out please?”

There was hesitation in the air, but he finally hears the click of the lock and the door swings open. The poor kid was holding himself tightly and shrinking into himself, afraid of Tim’s reaction.

“Danny,” he says gently. Danny still flinches. “Why do you think we’re half-siblings?”

He lets the teen chew on his lip for a few moments before he has to repeat himself.

“I was going through my parent’s stuff,” Danny rushes out, “like paperwork and stuff… I found a box pushed way back with letters. At first I thought they were my parents’ old love letters, but it wasn’t my dad’s handwriting even though he signed it ‘Jack’. There was also a picture of my mom and your dad together on an excavation site. The date on the back made a lot of sense because when you add nine months, that’s my birthday.”

Danny looked at Tim with such a lost expression that Tim felt a bit lost himself.

“I never would have thought my dad would cheat on my mom. He was too afraid of what would happen if he did, I thought,” Tim says, leaning into it a little.

“Right? I never thought my mom would, my parents were infatuated with each other, but maybe they were having problems at the time? I don’t know, I didn’t actually read the letters.”

“Can I look through them?”

Danny blinks and then rubs the back of his neck anxiously.

“I mean, yea, but they’re back at my parent’s house in Illinois. I would have to find a way to send them to you, but Vlad is kinda watching my every move at the moment so-“

“What if I went alone?” Tim jumps in the suggest. “I have enough money to go on a mini vacation. I could sneak in when everyone’s asleep and find them.”

“Honestly I doubt it’s locked. You could just walk right in. If you don’t mind the wasted gas, then okay, sure. Need the address?”

Tim respects the confidence and trust.

“Nah, I got it, but I will still need that DNA sample.”

Danny swallows nervously.

“Right, um, what- what do you need? I don’t know how this works.”

Tim nods and a smile to calm the teen down. His nervousness was definitely noted though.

“That’s okay. I’ve done this plenty of times with women who claim their child is Bruce’s. Always ends the same.”

Funnily enough, Danny relaxes at the reassurance lined with warning.

“Oh, that’s good. Okay. Just tell me what you need. Can we do it right now?”

Danny glances at the door and Tim understands the rush.

“Sure, come here,” Tim waves them over to the little sitting area. He pulls out his pocket knife with a mischievous smirk. “Don’t tattle on me.”

Danny stares with a wide smile and even wider eyes. It’s kinda funny how excited he is when most people would wonder why Tim was pulling a knife on them. Maybe they were brothers.

“Whoa, how’d you sneak that in? There was a whole metal detector and everything,” Danny fans.

“A true magician never reveals his tricks,” he smiles at Danny’s pout.

“Lame. You probably paid off one of the waiters or something.”

He actually planted it in one of the plants inside before the event even started, but the kid was close.

“Or something.”

“I always wanted one,” Danny murmurs wistfully.

“I’ll get you one,” is out of his mouth before he knew it.

“What?” Danny jerks up in surprise. “No, you don’t have to do that. I wasn’t expecting-“

“I know,” Tim cuts off the guilty ramblings. “I want to. You should have one.”

“Aw, little Timmy is bonding with his brother,” Dick coos over the comms.

“We don’t know that for sure, Richard,” Damian reminds.

“He sounds pretty legit to me,” Duke adds.

Tim ignores them for the most part.

“Lift up your leg. I’m just gonna give you a small cut on your calf to get some blood. It’ll be quick, okay?”

“Okay.”

Danny doesn’t make a sound when metal meets skin and slices through. He presses down on the wound with his handkerchief to collect the blood. Of course that wasn’t enough for him to cover all the bases, so he asked Danny to spit in his empty champagne glass, which the teen complied with zero complaints.

“Is that it?” Danny asks curiously.

“Yep! I’ll run them down to the lab ASAP and compare against mine. I’ll let you know about the results when they come back. Let me get your phone number.”

Tim was quietly getting more hopeful with how cooperative Danny had been. He hands over his phone easily with a chirped “sure!” to also let Tim put in his number.

“We have to be careful though. Vlad’s been over my shoulder since I moved in. If he finds anything he doesn’t like, it won’t be good,” Danny laughed it off like that was normal.

Tim had suspected a heavy hand with the shoulder squeezing earlier bordering on abuse with what and how he said what he did, but it was looking worse than his original hypothesis.

“Danny,” he says softly, like when he talks to a victim as Robin. Which might ring true here and Tim was already getting angry about the whole thing, if the abuse is real, he might fly off the handle and Kon will be forced to reign him back in. “Do you want to tell me about Masters?”

Danny immediately goes on the defensive, looking around the empty room and shoulders going stiff.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Danny denies.

Tim isn’t surprised, but he also isn’t happy.

“I have more power than you might think, Danny. I can help you.”

Danny shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut.

“I don’t- You- It’s complicated.”

“Then explain it to me. Please trust me, Danny. I can help get you out-“

“This isn’t about me!”

His words ring off the tile, making it louder than intended. Danny flinches at the sound and looks to the door with anxious eyes.

“Hey,” Tim whispers. It still makes the teen jump. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

“I know that,” Danny snaps, but Tim knows not to take it personally.

“Alright,” Tim agrees easily. That seems to make Danny relax a bit. “What did you mean it’s not about you? It’s your DNA we’re checking against mine.”

Danny bites his lip in anxious contemplation. Looks like Tim is gonna have to pull this one out like teeth.

“Is there someone else involved?”

Danny hesitates but finally nods.

“You can trust me, Danny. I won’t do anything that isn’t in your best interest. I promise.”

Danny’s lip is bleeding but neither of them say a word. He looks desperate and alone. It makes Tim’s skin crawl.

“Promise you won’t do anything yet?”

Tim nearly sighs with relief.

“Yes. I promise.”

“So you won’t tell? You can’t tell,” Danny insists.

Technically it wouldn’t be telling if they can hear him in real time.

“I promise I won’t do or say anything. Whatever is said here is confidential, alright? I won’t tell anyone,” Tim assures.

It seems to do the trick because Danny creeps closer to whisper after checking the door one more time.

“Vlad is my godfather. Uncle Vlad, right? He has always wanted a son and he was obsessed with my mom, so when he met me he, I don’t know, flipped a switch or something and his attention was on me all the time if it wasn’t on Mom. He wanted me to renounce my dad and go live with him. Obviously that didn’t happen so he tried the next best thing apparently and decided he was gonna make a clone of me.”

Danny pauses and Tim needs it to seriously contemplate what even is his life.

“It didn’t work out the way he planned and the only clone to make it was a girl, my cousin, Danielle. Yes, he named her after me. Some things happened, we worked it out, so Danielle was on my side and hates Vlad, right? Well, when everything happened,” he swallows thickly, “Danielle came back from traveling to be with me. Vlad took that opportunity to confine her to the basement. He never wanted a daughter. He never cared about her. So now he’s using her as leverage against me. If I try anything or don’t do what he says, she’s the one that gets punished. If I try to run away, he’d kill her. I know he would. And before I knew about you, she was the only-“

“The only family you had left,” Tim finishes.

Danny nods with a pleading expression.

Tim can understand the primal urge to be close to a blood relative that actually cares.

“Now you have me,” Tim offers with a small smile.

Danny makes the effort to try and smile back, though it falls flat quickly.

“We don’t know that yet. I could be wrong. I’m sorry I threw all this at you, I just- When I found those letters and thought that… I just-“

“I get it.” And he did. He really, really did. “You know, even if we aren’t related I still want to-“

Danny’s phone rings, making the teen jump. He glances at the name calling with a scowl. He doesn’t answer.

“Vlad’s looking for me. I gotta go, but, um, thanks… for taking my word for it and being so nice about it. I promise I’m not trying to pull something for your money. I didn’t even know you were rich until I looked you up-“

“Danny.” Tim was coming to the conclusion that Danny tend to ramble when nervous. He stands and guides the kid toward the door. “It’s okay. I know you’re not lying. I’ll text you the results, okay? We’ll figure this out. Just be patient for me, alright?”

Danny nods and fidgets with his suit coat. He doesn’t make a move to leave yet, instead he turns to face Tim.

“Um, you can say no. I just- is it okay if I hug you?”

Tim blanks for a solid few seconds. It’s only Dick’s cooing and Damian’s sassing that snaps him back to reality. This was real, he has to remind himself. He might have a half-brother and he wants a hug. Tim can do hugs. He can crush a hug, totally.

“Uh, yea. Hugs are okay.”

Danny must not care about his awkward response because he suddenly has thin arms around his waist and soft hair tickling his cheek. They were at the ideal height difference where Danny can rest his head on Tim’s shoulder comfortably. Tim wraps his arms around the teen’s shoulders and just felt.

If Danny really is his half-brother, then fate really is cruel to deprive him of this kinship all throughout his childhood.

Danny pulls away first, face to the ground, and ears red.

With a wavering voice he stumbles out an apology and a thanks before bolting out the door, narrowly running into Dick. He’s disappeared into the crowd in a blink.

“You okay, Tim?” Dick asks.

Tim blinks, “I have a brother.”

“A possible half-brother, but yea, still exciting.”

“The results will come back a match,” Tim says confidently.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Drake. This Daniel sounds pathetic, he would only hold you back.”

“Damian, there is nothing pathetic about trying to protect someone. Danny is thinking about his little cousin,” Dick argues. Damian doesn’t dispute.

“My parents never loved each other,” Tim confesses. “It was a marriage of mutual convenience. It is very possible that my dad found a lover outside their marriage.”

It was weird talking about his parents like that, but it was true. His mother told him once that marriage isn’t about love, it’s a contract between two people with mutual interests and values. His father was always somewhat withdrawn.

Danny had the black hair, the blue eyes, and even the skin tone to match his own. His jaw line was wider and eyebrows thicker, but honestly, they could be brothers if they stood side by side. Half-siblings isn’t even a stretch.

“He’s my brother. I know it.”

Tim spots a flash of silver hair from the crowd and narrows his eyes into slits.

“My brother who is being abused by his caretaker apparently,” he says in a voice that sounds like he’s planning a murder.

Huh. Now that’s a thought.

He could just kill Masters, that would certainly get him out of the way.

“I don’t like that look,” Dick says cautiously, leaning to bring Tim attention to him and not Masters hunting down his little brother. “We’ll help him, Tim. Don’t go overboard here. You can’t afford to get too emotionally involved.”

Tim sends a glare his way.

“Why don’t I prove what I already know, then?”

“Tim-“

He already had the champagne glass in his jacket pocket and his handkerchief in his breast pocket. He shoves past Dick and heads toward the front doors. No one stops him as he leaves the party early and hails a cab back to the manor to start his analysis.

It’s a half a day later when Tim sends a text with an emoji of two males holding hands and a green check mark. It’s an hour later that he gets a shooting star in response. He smiles widely and then gets to work on planning Masters’ demise and his brother’s and ‘cousin’s’ escape into his custody.

[trippinsorrows]

through your eyes + au future

a/n: i had this idea and needed to write it. it's a bit into the future, much past where i currently am, so feel free to skip. i'm still posting the next part later this evening, but i just needed to get this out of my head and figured i'd share lol

*gif courtesy of google*

words: 1.6k // warnings: solana is sad, roman is pissed, and their families ain't shit

taglist: @fearlesschimera @sayyestoheav3nn @annfg8 @cyberdejos2 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @trentybenty @empressdede @tshepisho @southerngirl41 @callmekayd

Solana should have listened to Roman. 

Should have known better than to ever think this was a good idea.

To think that they could have both of their families in the same vicinity and everything would go fine. Granted, the type of division she was expecting has been relatively tame. There hasn’t been any violence, largely due and thanks to the weapon deposit bins by the entrance.

Weapon free establishment and all. 

Yet, she’s not naive enough to think that the lack of guns, knives, and other unmentionables could stop her or Roman’s family from throwing down if they wanted. But, they haven’t. No punches have been thrown nor bones broken. It’s been more of a clear separation. Roman’s family only interacts with each other, and her family interacts with each other.

Not the kind of cohesion she was hoping for but a much better alternative than what it could be.

But, while conflict and violence between the in-laws has, so far, been avoided. There’s still another major issue that has Solana locked in one of the back rooms, sitting on a random chair, crying her eyes out.

The bullying. 

Towards her. 

Towards Roman.

Towards their baby.

It started out light, Solana having to politely shut down a near fight between her brother and Roman.

Wes lifted the beer to his lips, eyeing Roman. “So, how many people have you killed today, Reigns?”

“Wesley!” Solana’s sharp use of his name was conjoined with a disapproving expression. He’s too old for the petty jabs.

Roman, however, simply smiled coldly, scratching his beard as he delivered a chilling warning. “So far none, but you keep fucking talking, and I can change that real fast.”

Thankfully, Solana was able to de-escalate, her sister-in-law, Hazel, prying Wes away before any violence could commence. 

Then there was the conversation Solana unintentionally walked into while conversing with two of her older cousins she’s not as close with.

For good reasons.

“Aren’t you at all worried?”

Solana frowned. “About?”

Her cousin leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Roman as a dad. I mean, he’s not capable of love. Do you really expect him to be a good father?”

There’s no words to describe how much hearing such a thing about the man she loves hurt Solana. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her other cousin, however, simply rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, everyone knows that man is a sociopath. You’re better off cutting your losses now, taking the kid to Mexico with your mom’s side of the family, and praying he doesn’t turn out like his psycho dad.”

Solana had to excuse herself for that one. She had nothing nice to say in that moment, but beyond that, she just needed to get a few tears out.

And she did, hoping that would be the last of it, but no, that was just too good of a hope to be true. 

It was the comments overheard by some of Roman’s relatives, however, that did her in.

“I just can’t believe out of all the women, the respectable options who come from more established families, he chose her.”

The other woman snorted, shaking her head. “Right? It’s obvious she was looking for a sugar daddy. What is she, like 25?”

“I heard her father’s not doing well financially and told her to seek out Roman.”

“Makes sense. Look how easy she was. Didn’t waste any time opening up her legs and trapping him with a baby.” The woman rolled her eyes, adding, “at the very least, he could have found a Samoan woman. It’s bad enough he’s afakasi, but this child of theirs? The girl is Mexican and Black. He’ll hardly have any Samoan blood running through his veins. Our Bloodline could die out because of her.”

The first woman to speak snorted, smirking almost as she suggested, “that’s assuming it’s his baby. Roman’s smart though. I’m sure he’ll have a paternity test done as soon as she pushes out that bastard.”

“Assuming ICE doesn’t deport her first.”

The two women fell out in laughter at the same time Solana darted off, desperate to get away and have a safe space to cry. 

It’s all just been too much. Too much hatred spewed for something that should be filled with love and excitement. 

It’s been anything but, and it hurts. 

It hurts a ton. 

The knocking on the door is loud and borderline erratic, Solana quickly wiping her eyes and clearing her throat to inform that she’ll be out in a minute. But, a deep, familiar voice beats her to it.

“Solana.” It’s Roman, and he doesn’t sound happy. “Open the door.”

She blows out a deep breath and does her best to feign a ‘normal’ voice. “Just—just a second.”

“Now, Solana.” Before she can ask why, he adds in a calmer voice,“I know you’re crying.” Damn. 

“So you either let me in or I’ll break this goddamn door down.”

He’ll do it. She knows he will. There’s nothing ever stopping Roman from comforting or being there for her when he knows she’s upset. 

And this would definitely be one of those times. 

Solana sniffles, trying to gather herself as she carefully stands up from the toilet seat. Wiping at her eyes, she flips the lock and is barely able to turn the knob when Roman is opening the door. Stepping back, he closes it behind him and moves his hands to her face, gaze locking with hers.

“What’s wrong?”

So many things, but this isn’t the time or place, so she shakes her head. “N–nothing. I’m just—baby hormones.”

“Bullshit,” he scoffs, voice still surprisingly gentle. “Baby, talk to me. What happened?”

Solana looks away, hating how just that question, coming from him, tone so understanding and soft almost, is enough to pull the truth out of her.

And it does.

“You were right. This was a bad idea. I should have never—” She stops herself, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I just wanted…..I thought….I thought they’d be happy for us.”

“Sol, you know it’s not that simple.” Though his words could be seen as insensitive, the way he says it is anything but. “Who said what?”

She closes her eyes, grasping onto his white button-up shirt. “It wasn’t just…..one person….it’s everybody.” He wipes at her tears, as she continues to feel the emotional weight of it all. “My family saying cruel things about you—”

“Sola—”

“Your family saying things about me, about our baby—”

At that, all gentleness drops and is replaced with something else. Something she knows Roman knows well. 

Anger.

“Who?” It’s one word. One single word that means a multitude of things and none of them good.

Solana shifts her weight, shrugging, “I—I don’t know who they are. Some….some cousins of yours. But, it doesn’t—it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does fucking matter.” Roman drops his hands from her face to instead take her right hand in his, holding it firmly. “And we gonna address this shit right now.”

Solana's eyes widen a bit. That’s….that’s not what she wanted. “Wait, Roman—”

He’s not listening though. His stride is purposeful and determined, as he leads them out the bathroom, down the hall, and into the main section of the venue where most of their families are gathered. 

Roman guides them over to where the DJ has his setup, Solana gasping as Roman uses his free hand to yank a set of chords out the wall, effectively stopping the music. 

The DJ looks just as confused as most of the guests but cowers away in fear when Roman ‘iffs’ at him, like he’s going to hit him, before snatching the microphone. 

The abrupt ending of the music has attracted most gazes to where Roman and Solana stand, him moving them to the middle where all can see and hear.

He never once releases her hand. 

“Imma say this one time, and one time only.” She swallows, her eyes landing on her parents. Her mom looks confused, while her dad wears the same expression he’s worn since the moment Solana finally came clean about her relationship with Roman.

Disappointed. 

“Cause if I have to address this shit again, it’s not gonna be verbally.” Chills move up and down her spine. There’s not an ounce of her that questions if he’s bluffing or not. Roman doesn’t bluff. If he says it, he means it. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about me. That includes her family and mine, but I’ll be damned if I let any of ya’ll disrespect her or our child.” Solana’s hand naturally moves to her belly, her bump that’s pronounced and especially visible in her white bodycon dress. “We’re together. We’re having a baby. However way any of you feel about it, keep it to your fucking selves, because there’s no reason Solana should be crying at something that’s supposed to be a happy occasion.”

She swallows, noticing how the entire room has gone silent under the deep voice of Roman’s address. There’s not a person who looks uninterested or annoyed. It’s just a sea of various scared and nervous expressions. 

“So, the next time you find yourselves talking shit about her, and especially our baby, understand it will absolutely be the last thing you ever fucking do.” Solana watches Roman begin to hand the microphone to the flabbergasted DJ before he snatches it back, turning once again toward the onlookers. “And one more thing……when you address her, make sure you do it properly.”

Solana’s throat goes dry.  She shakes her head. He can’t be doing what she thinks he’s about to do. “Roman—”

“It’s not Solana Miller.” Oh my God. “It’s Solana Reigns.”

The sea of silence quickly morphs into an ocean of various gasps, exclamations, and even shouts. 

Meanwhile, Roman simply smirks as he sticks the nail in the coffin before dropping the mic on the ground. “—we’re married.”

[evilminji]

You know that Post about Danny becoming the False Villian, Expose?

To train all these kids, who are running around with shitty priorities and the self preservation instincts of lemmings? Because they were arrogant. Didn't listen to the concerns of those they "protect". Didn't listen to the concerns of a fellow Hero. So now, they WILL learn, at the hands of a "Villian".

Cause he TRIED pointing things out nicely.

Was met with a brick wall of condescension and dismissal.

THAT post.

You know where he would not only do that, but go APESHIT into it? Because he is a Hero and holy SHIT these kids are gonna get themselves killed? Gonna kill somebody ELSE? Have fucked up priorities and live in a fucked up system they do not even question?

Boku No Hero Academia.

Why the FUCK are you posing for the cameras? Why the absolute FUCK are you beating that man down on the worst day of his life, instead of TALKING him down? Why are you jumping too conclusions and splitting up and playing for the crowds? Why. The ABSOLUTE AND UNFORGIVING FUCK do you seem to ASSUME that every innocent soul, that doesn't look default generic human, is the AGGRESSOR in every situation you arrive at?!

Danny would have a conniption. Just a full body rage seizure, as his Ghost-y lil brain LIT UP with the BURNING NEED to fix everything, everywhere, at once. Right. Now.

But do they listen?

Ha!

Cool, cool cool cool cool..... he's gonna burn the entire country dow- No! That way lies Dan! Breathe, Fenton. Just.... Breathe. You can fix this.

The older ones may be set in their ways, but the younger ones are still learning. They can get better. BE better. They're kids. They just need opportunities to grow. And they WANT to be Heros, right? All he has to do is show them HOW. Poke their weak spots and point out their mistakes.

He can do that!

And just? Out of NO WHERE? This foreign villian decends upon Japan? What's worse, seeming to TARGET HEROS STUDENTS. Young, just debuted, Heros. Everyone freaks out. Older Heros closing rank, where they can, to try and Protect These Kids(tm).

But they can't be everywhere at once.

And this menace? Seemingly CAN be. Can make copies of himself. Use Ice. Fly. Energy beams. Intangiblity. Invisibility! What monster are they DEALING with?! That plays the flamboyant fool, dispensing deadly peril, only to then turn around, and in chilling sobriety absolutely destroy seasoned heroes?

That LECTURES them while doing it.

He's undermining the people's faith in the system!

(But should they have faith in it? Doesn't he have good points? Aren't they getting stronger, faster, better heroes for facing him? Where did he come from? Hasn't anyone else noticed that not a single civilian has gotten hurt, at his hands? That he annihilates any true villians foolish enough to think he's on their side?)

(How many "thugs" and "minor villians" have these guys not noticed, they wonder, who have just... disappeared. Come into contact with this guy and then? Stopped. Turned up somewhere else, weeks later, healthy again. Smiling with illegal lifestyle support gear, a new job, a new life, and better future. Finally free of the violence.)

Amity may be at peace by the time Danny turns 20(-ish? Maybe? Is he? Clockwork! How old IS he? You've sent him on so many of your weird timebend-y missions he lost count!). But? Danny is a Heroic Protector Spirit. His Obsession has demands. And his Human sides Space Obsession will never really be quite strong enough to support him.

You know, since it can't die.

Just because it HAS a Soul aspect to it, doesn't mean it'll ever come into practical use. So? The more powerful Heroic instincts it is! And honestly, he wasn't even planning to STAY. Just check the place out. You know, compare his options. But... *twitch*

They Are Doing It Wrong.

So now he lives here!

.....it's awful! They don't even have any space exploration! No studying, no stars, no futuristic moon base! Nothing! And he doesn't even SPEAK Japanese! In human form? He has no idea what anyone is saying! At least the Sorta-But-Not skeleton Ghost guy across the hall is helping. Dude might be taller then his DAD. Seriously ecto-starved though. It's like he somehow GAVE all his body's ecto to someone else!

How's he supposed to heal like that?! Guy really needs to learn how to take care of himself.

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @lolottes @nerdpoe @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Dollhouse 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as fear, coercion, violence, noncon/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary: Five girls move into a shared residence for the upcoming school year but not all is as it seems. 

Characters: Jonathan Pine, Captain Syverson, Steve Abnesti, Lloyd Hansen, and Peter Parker 

This fic features five named readers; Ann, Lulu, Polly, Barbie, and Molly. This chapter features Ann and Lulu. Please note that characters may switch but will maintain second-person POV.

Note: I know I shouldn't but I say that every time.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3 

Love you all until you can’t stand it. Take care. 💖 

Finally, you’re going to college but it can’t be a smooth transition. No, there’s always a hurdle in the road. You have your acceptance and your tuition scraped together, and there’s only one box left unticked; housing.  

It’s as if the ad was meant for you. ‘Book your room now. Single rooms available for campus students.’ 

Maybe people are right when they say your devices are listening to you. Still, you can’t exactly pass up the opportunity. All summer you searched yet just like the rest of your life, you’re running behind. 

The response is so quick, you almost can’t believe it’s real. It isn’t, not yet. It’s just an offer of a walk-through. You’ve done a dozen of those at least and each time, the room went to someone else. But you have to try. You can’t just give up, not after everything you’ve gone through to get here. 

Better late than never. That could be your motto. You should get it inscribed in Latin on something. Maybe a jacket? Are letterman’s out of style? 

You head out for the noon-hour meeting with the building manager. The posting said it was a new development. Hopefully, that means you don’t have to deal with anyone elses' leftover grime. Not that you’re picky. You’ve lived in worse. 

You let Marla know you’re heading out. Your mom’s friend will be even more ecstatic if you get this one. Neither of you expected you to be crashing for so long. It’s getting a bit crowded with her own kids still under the same roof. 

You catch the downtown route and get the connection just before it drives off. The building is slightly off-campus. You don’t mind. You're a bit too old to be kept awake by the frat house ragers. The reminder sparks another swell of insecurity. 

High school feels distant and you feel a bit pathetic running to catch up from behind. You’ll be older than most of the freshmen, even those who took a gap year. At least you’re doing it. Yeah, that’s something. An achievement is still that even if it’s not on the same schedule as everyone else. 

You miss your stop and curse yourself. It’s only a block away from where you need to be but you’re getting close to twelve as you spot the same building from the ad.

It’s a nice place. Modern and sleek. You wonder why anyone would convert it to student housing. Financially, it’s likely a windfall yet students do have a way of ruining a good thing. 

As you come up the walk, the curtain flutters in one of the windows. The boxy building isn’t quite as big as the on-campus dorms. That’s another relief. Not having to deal with the crush of students. 

The more you think about it, the more this seems like the perfect opportunity. You don’t want to get your hopes up. You know better. 

The door opens before you can reach it. You falter as a lithe man breezes through and grins in your direction. His blond hair pales in the sunlight and his blue eyes twinkle. He’s at least a decade, maybe two, older than you but he’s not aged poorly. 

“Ah, you must be Ann,” he extends his arm in a formal greeting, “Jonathan, we emailed.” 

“Oh, yes,” you shake his hand and show your teeth sheepishly. “Sorry if I’m late.” 

“Right on time,” he lets go and checks his watch. “I thought we could have our tour and then get to the usual questions. You understand, we have a strict screening process for residents. We can never be too careful.” 

He turns and strides back to the door and opens it, waiting for you as he steps to the side. You approach as he beckons within. 

“It is as much about out safety as those we choose to live here. We have seen the recent scandals at the college and what with the world the way it is. He tuts as you precede him through the door. His accent soothes your bubbling nerves. 

The entry way is tidy and neat. There’s a shelf of cubbies for shoes and a rack opposite with at least a dozen hooks for jackets and the like. You kick the dirt on your soles onto the mat. 

“You may leave your shoes on for the tour. We will have the house cleaned prior to move-in day. Of course, once you and your flat mates are in-house, it will be up to you to determine house rules.” He points you ahead. “Of course, if you choose to stay with us.” 

“Right, er, yeah, makes sense.” 

“Is this your first year?” He asks. His overly cordial manner helps ease you. 

“Mhmm, um, finally. I had to delay it a bit but happy to finally be going to school,” you explain. 

“Never too late to do something new,” he remarks. He gestures into the front room. 

“We’ve two common rooms, seeing as there will be six residents. We would like you to have all the amenities as a typical building. You see, this is a pilot program. We’ve a government grant for development of student housing.” 

You nod. You don’t really care about the money behind it but you appreciate his explanation. You’d rather know more than you need to. 

“A sitting area; television, sofas, perfect for a movie night, should you choose to spend a night in.” He lets you look around as he keeps to the wall and waits, “in the next,” he leads you on, “some games. Table tennis. A table should you wish to partake in any other sort of gaming.” 

The place is nice. Everything is brand new and shiny. There’s a shelf of board games by the sleek black table with chairs. The ping pong table has four paddles and there’s a basket of balls on a wall shelf. It’s all arranged so perfectly. 

You carry on into the kitchen. It’s huge. You marvel at the pale blue and black aesthetic, accented in silver and crystal. It’s immaculate. A bit much for college kids. 

“Uh,” you turn to him and twiddle your fingers, “did I read the rent correctly? I don’t know if I can afford this.” 

“Yes, two-hundred plus utilities. As I’ve said, we get a supplement from the government for housing students.” 

“Oh, sure, makes sense,” you sway and look around again. 

“There are a few things to go over, do let me know if you have any questions as we go,” he stands back as you tentatively explore without touching anything. “We’ve continuous security in place. You may see any of our staff on the grounds throughout your day. You will of course be acquainted on move-in. And we have on-site maintenance.” 

You nod as you listen and he takes you back around to the entryway and shows you the bedrooms on the other side of the house, only two down there, four upstairs according to him. He allows you even to peek into the bathroom behind the staircase. 

“Now, before I go through the typical questions, there is one condition I might confirm before wasting your time,” he says. “It was in the application but I do like to double-check these things. You are comfortable with co-ed residence? A mix of boys, girls, and all?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you smile.  

It’s not ideal. You’ve never really lived with men but you can make it work. 

“Splendid, well, how about we go and see the verandah? It is a sunny day and I hate to miss the sunlight, especially as autumn approaches so quickly.” 

“Oh, okay,” you agree and reroute as he directs you with an open hand. “This place is really nice.” 

“Thank you. I’ve overseen the design myself so I will happily accept that praise,” he chuckles as he trails after you. “Oh, you’ve not even seen the garden.” 

As if the flight wasn’t enough, you’re met with an endless wait in line to have your visa and documents checked before you can leave the airport. Even after all that, you’re far from settled. 

You pull out your notebook as the signs bring you down to the underground station. It’s neat that there’s a whole set of tracks right underneath the airport. Everything about this new place is so astounding but scary... 

You check your scribbles and stop at the wall map to confirm the information. Your platform is a little further down. You better hurry! 

You drag your bag behind you as you scurry down the scuzzy concrete, your carry-on bouncing on your shoulder. It won’t be long, you just need to get to the town centre and go from there. You can’t wait to see your room.  

You hope the real thing lives up to the pictures. The man on the video chat seemed honest. He was friendly. Jonathan... or maybe Jaime. Oh! You shouldn’t forget. 

You're out of breath as you reach the train door. It's like it's waiting for you as once you board, the compartment door shuts. You find a seat and keep your suitcase stuffed in front of you. It's already cramped without the luggage.  

You keep an eye on the digital banner near the exit. You won't miss your stop. When it comes, you're the first up and waiting to get off. 

Outside, you're swept up in vertigo. The distance between you and home finally catches up to you. You're really there. All on your own. 

You're shaky as you take out your notebook and your phone. You just need to go around the corner... every twist and turn is written down. From the airport to the station to your residence. 

Your bag rolls and rattles as you go down the next street. You recognise the house from the pictures. The lawns are vibrant and green and the front gate adds a homey touch. 

You stop just outside and scroll through your emails. Jonathan said to call when you got there as he'd have the key for you. You find his number and tap it, your phone popping open the call screen. You wait, there's no answer. Hmmm. 

The sudden roar of a motor and blast of air startles you. You look over the hedges at the man with a leaf blower. He clears the trimmings of the finely-groomed bushes. As you glance over, he spots you and shuts off the gadget. 

You smile, tight-lipped and teetering, as he approaches. It's not Jonathan. This man is much the opposite, burly, bald, and bearded. 

"Can I help ya?" He asks in a drawl. 

"Oh, sorry," you giggle nervously "I must look like a mouse in a swimming pool. I'm looking for Jonathan Pine." 

He tilts his head slightly, a squint as he seems to chew on his thoughts. 

"He's 'round. I can get him for ya. Can I get who's askin'?" 

"Oh, Lulu. I'm supposed to be moving in, sir," you push your shoulders up as another uneasy trill crawls from your throat. 

"Ah, you best come on in," he goes to the gate and unlatches it, "here." As you near, he reaches out and grabs the handle of your rolling bag, "you come far?" 

You let him drag the overpacked suitcase. Your shoulders are killing you. You follow him down the paved walk. 

"Yes, I flew in. From overseas," you answer. 

"Shoulda known. You sound like him." 

You laugh again. Your accent is not as refined as Jonathan's but certainly is nothing close to the local one either. 

"Name's Sy, I fix this place up and all. Do the garden, unclog the sink," you stops at the door and sets your bag to stand on it's own. "I'll get Jon for ya." 

You nod and he disappears through the front door. You sway as you peer around. The place is amazing. The facade is just as gleaming as the advert and the gardens are lovely. You've always liked oak trees and you're sure the leaves will be a beautiful shade of copper once the seasons change. 

The door opens again and startles you back to the present. You look up as Sy dips his chin in your direction and keeps the door open. A familiar face emerges and a tiny bit of pressure lifts off your chest. You're definitely in the right place.  

"A pleasure to finally meet in person," Jonathan offers his hand. You shake it and a giggle crackles in your throat, the habit harder to suppress as your stress mounts. "I am glad that you made it and I trust you had a safe journey?" 

"Oh, yes, sir, yes," you answer, "thanks." 

"Sy," he glances at the other man who promptly retreats. 

"Well then, please, let us get you set. You are the first to arrive. Of course, there is no trouble accommodating you early given the circumstances. Such a far way to travel. You must be terribly tired." 

"Oh, a little, but excited too." You go to grab your suitcase but he's much quicker.  

He directs you in first and follows as he rolls your bag with him. 

"I've put you upstairs but if the first floor is preferable, we can rearrange," he explains. 

"Upstairs is fine!" You squeak in a tone higher than your usual tenor. 

"Ah, I recall my first time abroad myself, it was surely nerve-racking. Don't be shy, eh, it does help to have someone who understands the plight, hm?" 

"Thank you, sir. Yes, it's... it's all so new." 

"Mm, you needn't call me sir, Jonathan is fine enough," he insists as you begin up the stairs. "Perhaps you won't feel so out of place once the others come." 

[bruciemilf]

Something something, Bruce accidentally keeps adopting his friends' wards. It doesn't sit well with his kids.

Diana's been training Yara for a little over a year. She's scrappy, brave, and unafraid to stand up for herself against the world. She reminds Bruce of a dearly beloved Ghost, and even dearer son.

" Oh wow. You're, uh. You're Batman. Love your work. I mean, Princess Di says you should take it easier since mortals don't fight gods, but it's so cool to me that you do. My mom died too! ...Sorry. Can you sign my pegasus?"

"...For?"

" Jerry. I mean, -- Yara! Sorry."

" Meeting new people isn't exactly my forte. It's fine. Is my training plan working for you? We can adjust it together."

"Oh! Well, I have some cool ideas,-"

For some, emotion gets lost when it comes to Batman. They see a wall of stone and tragedy, nothing beyond a twitch of lips reminding them there's a man wearing the cowl, not the other way around.

Dick's mouth is hanging open as he watches the blank expression on Bruce's face, patient with the excitable rambling in front of him. He rarely looks so happy on patrol.

"He smiled at her!"

Damian is very stubborn. He just won't accept it. Not even with the evidence of Diana's student taking a stream of selfies with his Baba, where he even smiles in one of them!

" Don't be ridiculous, Grayson. That's reaching a new low of stupid, even for you."

" Okay, one. I'm a very capable detective who thought YOU the robin ways. If I'm an idiot, you're an idiot."

" ...TT."

" Second... It wouldn't hurt to be home more often. I think he's lonely."

Damian frowns, " Baba deserves better than pity scraps. And you deserve better than forcing yourself to be here when you're not ready. It's unfair to you both."

"...Maybe I'm not an idiot after all."

The real challenge? The superboys.

"It's not that serious, Dames."

" Not that serious?!" Damian hisses when he's sad, it's a well known fact, " He put MY stickers on your bandages. You don't even NEED bandages!"

Jon shrugs, maybe, perhaps, intentionally flaunting the pink dragon stickers on his wrist. Accepting to arm wrestle Cass had been a bad idea, " It's a nice gesture."

Damian points a finger at him, then calms himself with a hollow breath, " I'm going to walk away. My therapist would be extremely proud of me."

But the bets were off when Jason visited.

"...What's your boy toy doing in my room?"

Tim drags a hand over his face as Kon whistles a marry tune, lounged comfortably on Jason's bed like a spoiled cat, " Dad Invited him over for dinner."

" I just figured it'd be nice to settle in! Since I'll be moving in soon and all," Kon smiles very smugly, " Bruce needs someone around since you just hate being here so much. You don't mind, right?"

" You know," Tim figures he should at least try to stop the slaughter, " I think Alfred's cookies are done. Let's go check."

Jason's radiating murder, " I think it's time for you to go home."

" Oh, I'd really love to see you make me."

Tim discovers Kon is immune to bullets, but not to being crashed through a wall.

[libraryofgage]

Please write for 42. Maybe it could be something dealing with Steve overhearing something he shouldn't have,maybe something the kids say, or Eddie says to someone. Whatever it is it makes him feel like shit. He talks to Eddie, or Robin (or both!) about how much he's changed over the past few years and how he didn't end up being the person everyone thought he'd be, but after what hes overheard he's crying because even though he did all he could he feels lonelier than ever.

Anon, I love you

Prompt 42 for this prompt list!

“Who’s laughing now?”

“…Clearly not you. You’re crying, dear God.” 

I didn't use these quotes exactly, but I came close. It still fits them, though lmao

---

"I should be right back," Steve says, throwing open the van door before hopping out. The moment it closes, Eddie blasts the heavy metal he usually can't because of Steve's sensitive ears. Steve snorts with amusement and heads towards the diner, the smell of fried food and grilling beef overwhelming him the moment he opens the door.

Steve heads up to the counter, flashing a charming smile at Paula, a woman who's been working at the diner longer than Steve has been alive. "We got your usual almost ready, sugar," she tells him, returning the smile as she grabs a receipt from the turning rack and leads him over to the register.

It's a Friday night, which means the diner is bursting with teenagers hanging out in groups or trying to have a romantic date. Steve doesn't usually see anyone he feels like greeting when he picks up food, but a quick sweep this time reveals a table where Jonathan, Argyle, Nancy, Mike, and Will are sitting. Their table is close to the bar, but none of them seem to have noticed Steve because of their conversation, which is just fine with him.

If he gets dragged into a conversation, he might take too long and make Eddie worry. And if Eddie worries, he'll come bursting into the diner, and there are too many people in here that still blame him for...well, everything, for that to be safe.

"Your total is gonna be $12.93," Paula says, watching as Steve distractedly pulls a twenty from his wallet.

"Keep the change. I'll be waiting over there," he says, nodding to a bar stool somewhat close to where his friends are sitting. He then slides into said stool, leaning on the counter and trying to ignore how sticky it is.

He's close enough now to hear the tail-end of Argyle saying, "--eems like such a nice dude, though."

Mike snorts at him. "You didn't know Steve when he was dating Nancy," he points out.

Oh. They're...talking about him. Steve gets the feeling he should walk away, but he also feels stuck in the stool.

"He wasn't that bad," Nancy says. Silence follows her words, and Steve can imagine the looks she's getting. "Okay, yeah, he was an asshole."

"He smashed my camera," Jonathan says, and Steve wonders if he's imagining a trace of bitterness in his voice.

Here's the thing: Steve apologized for smashing the camera (though, he feels it was still justified) and got Jonathan a new one. A fancy, new one. But it doesn't sound like Jonathan is going to include that detail, too.

"He's a lot better now, though," Will says, and Steve wants to get him a new set of dice for trying to stick up for him.

He then wants to cry and maybe break something when he hears Jonathan and Mike snort and bark out a short laugh.

Steve feels himself grow tense as Nancy and Jonathan regale Argyle with how shitty he was in high school. He keeps waiting for one of the kids to refute or bring up how he's changed, but Mike only adds to it all while Will stays quiet, probably unwilling to get himself laughed at again (not that Steve blames him, honestly).

None of them actually point out how Steve's changed. They laugh at how much of a douchebag he was in high school, and Jonathan tells Argyle to "watch out for King Steve coming through" now that nothing is trying to kill them again.

And Steve feels sick to his stomach. Has...has he not actually changed? Is he really the same King Steve he was in high school? Is he still that asshole who didn't give a shit about others because he was just trying to survive himself, no matter who it hurt? Is this how everyone sees him?

"All right, sugar. Here's your cheeseburgers," Paula says, placing a bag in front of him and jerking him out of his thoughts. "One without tomato but with extra ketchup, and the other with grilled onions."

Steve blinks and smiles at Paula again. "Thanks. Same time next week?"

He waits to see Paula's amused smile and playfully dismissive wave before grabbing the bag and practically running out of the restaurant. He doesn't know if it's good or bad that nobody at the table seems to have noticed his presence or departure.

Steve jerks the door to the van open, not waiting for Eddie to turn the music down before hopping in and slamming it shut. He silently pulls on his seatbelt, holds the food in his lap, and stares at the glove compartment.

"Uh, you okay, Stevie?" Eddie asks, his hand lingering on the volume dial.

"I don't wanna talk about it here," Steve says. Because he's going to talk about it with Eddie, the only other person he trusts to be honest with him is Robin. But this is date night for him and Eddie, and even when he's drowning in self-doubt, Steve doesn't want anyone else to interrupt their date night.

Thankfully, Eddie just nods. "Okay, sweetheart," he says, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road.

Steve doesn't say a word the whole drive, too consumed by forcing himself to focus on Eddie's hand on his thigh. There's a warmth that he feels through the fabric, grounding him and keeping his brain from spiraling too far.

When they finally park (a secluded area close enough to the local make-out spot to still see the romantic stars in the sky without getting caught by anyone else) Eddie turns to Steve and softly asks, "Wanna move to the back, sweetheart?"

Steve grips the bag in his lap tighter, takes a deep breath, and looks at Eddie. He feels a little bad for ignoring the question, but he can't help his worries and fears bubbling out now that they've stopped driving. "I've changed, right? Since high school?"

Eddie blinks, caught off guard by the sudden question. But then he nods. "Yeah, Stevie, you've definitely changed."

"Jonathan and Nancy were in the diner with Argyle, Mike, and Will," Steve says, trying and failing to seem more nonchalant by unbuckling himself and moving to the couch that barely fits in the back of the van. Eddie follows, sitting closer than necessary to eat the burger Steve hands to him. "They were...talking about me. High school me. King Steve. And Jonathan told Argyle to be wary of me. Do they really think I'm the same person?"

"Stevie-"

Steve doesn't let Eddie get far. He's too wrapped up in what happened, too consumed by self-doubt and guilt and the wish that he'd said something to them. His chest feels tight, he feels like the world is going to cave in on him, and the only thing keeping him steady is the way Eddie puts down his burger and pulls Steve into his lap. "And the worst part is that they were laughing. Will tried saying that I was better now, and they fucking laughed. Like it was ridiculous. Like I could never change.

"And I just....I wish I'd said something. I could have ruined their night so fucking easily, Eds. I could have turned around and asked if they always talked shit behind the backs of people who saved them. I could have asked if Jonathan didn't like the replacement camera I got him, or if he still used it to sneak photos of Nancy."

"Is that why you broke his camera? Fuck, I don't blame you."

Steve manages a slight smile for Eddie. "Thanks. I...I don't know. For all I've changed, it would have been so easy to just turn around and be who they thought I still was. And then I would've torn them down to the size of ants. And...and...I wish I had but I don't but I do, so I could've ended it with who's laughing now?"

Steve's chest feels a little looser, and that's a fucking relief, but then he feels Eddie's hand cradling his cheek. "Well, it's definitely not you, sweetheart. Your crying."

Oh. Eddie is right. He is crying. Steve hastily wipes at the tears before just giving up and leaning into Eddie's touch. "Sorry," he mumbles.

"Don't apologize. I almost wish you had done it. And that I'd been there to see it."

"No, you don’t."

Eddie grins, pulling Steve closer so they're chest-to-chest, heart-to-heart. "Yeah, I do. I love when you get bitchy, sweetheart. Especially when it means we can be bitchy together."

Steve blinks, and he can't help laughing. The words were simple, but they still managed to erase all the doubt and some of the hurt. He still probably needs a few days before he can actually look at Jonathan or Nancy or Mike again, but he doesn't feel so immediately devastated.

"Somehow, that was the perfect thing to say," he tells Eddie, closing the distance between them to kiss his lips, getting a hint of ketchup on his tongue.

"Perfect enough to earn me some fun?" Eddie asks, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

Steve sighs dramatically, pretends to think about it as he actually laments that their burgers will get cold, and then pushes Eddie down on the couch.