"HE'S MY HUSBAND"
Just so you know, now that you have put that out into the universe, I am manifesting that to happen at the end of the season this year. I CAN SEE IT AND I BELIEVE. THE POWER OF THE TENNIS AU BLEEDING INTO CANON
anon, you must know that I have never practised manifestation in my LIFE but I will manifest for this. I need it with my whole damn soul. it's unfair how much of a chokehold tarlos has us all in, and the least we deserve to add fuel to our burning obsessions is either of them (although tbh I think it's time for someone to call Carlos impressive because he IS) to look across at the other, the fondest, most loving look in their eyes and say: 'he's my husband'.
I will clown for this so fucking hard my nose will turn red I'm SORRY.
LIKE THIS BUT WITH TK SAYING HE'S MY HUSBAND:
(I'm so fucking unwell for them idk how I live like this)
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Unpleasant Revelations - DPxDC Ficlet Idea for the Stillborn Au
"Have you met my youngest, Damian, Mr. Masters?"
Its only from twenty years of long, hard experience and practice that Vlad doesn't increase the room temperature from 'borderline uncomfortably cool' to 'unbearably hot' the moment Bruce Wayne pulls his youngest and "only" biological son out in front of him.
He puts only in quotations because twelve year old Damian Wayne looks scarily, uncannily like one Daniel Brown. Jack and Maddie's foster son, second victim of their foolishness, and only other halfa in existence. Second only to him.
It's nauseating how similar they look. From the scowl and terrible glare on the young boy's face, to his brown skin -- which was only a few shades lighter than Daniel's, the shape of his nose, and even the strange winged edge of his eyebrow. Something that Vlad has long since come to find endearing on the child he considered a son of his own. The only difference was that Damian had dark, sharp green eyes.
Daniel's eyes were blue. The same glacier shade as his father's, who stood behind Damian with a proud, oafish smile on his visage.
It was infuriating how similar they look. Vlad might not have rapidly swung the room temperature from one extreme to the other, but he can't stop himself from letting the fury burning within his core from slipping out and raising the temperature up a few degrees.
Because it really only meant one thing.
Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were related.
Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were brothers.
Standing in front of him, it was clear as day. He can already picture a phantom image of Daniel standing beside Damian, the same scowl written on his face, the same glare carved into his eyes. The only difference being the dark, exhausted circles beneath them that seemed to be permanently painted onto his skin. The only thing missing being the permanent loneliness and vigilance permeating his being like a scar.
This, if revealed, would be enough to ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation. Or, at the very least, darken it quite a bit. The great philanthropist Bruce Wayne with another secret blood child? One related to his youngest? One that had been put into foster care? Seemingly thrown away?
It would be a firestorm.
One that Vlad is not keen on starting.
It would ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation, yes. But it would hurt Daniel in the process -- the harassment he would face alone might just be enough to break that fragile child completely. That was just not something he could allow. Or, even worse, bring him into his biological father's care and custody -- something Vlad was even less willing to allow.
It's not out of kindness to Wayne that Vlad will keep mum about this.
His grip on his champagne flute tightens, just a bit. He's still aware enough of the world around him to not let it shatter in his hands. His plastered, pleasant smile tightens around the corners, and he forces his focus to slide from Damian to Wayne.
"The resemblance is uncanny, Mister Wayne." He says, slanting his smile to the side slyly. Although he's not talking about the resemblance between Wayne and his son. Rage simmers beneath his skin, burning coal and embers in the core of his chest, nestled between his lungs, as he meets the man's eyes.
Wayne swaggles his head proudly, his ditzy smile widening as he squeezes his son's shoulder affectionately. Bastard, Vlad wants to spit.
He breathes in through his nose, and exhales out through his mouth. The champagne in his hand cools, and stops its unusual bubbling.
The Damian boy scoffs under his breath, his mouth still coiled upward into a scowl. With the revelation of his blood relation to Daniel evident, Vlad's not sure if he should find it endearing or not.
He is not Daniel, so he decides that it's just simply irritating. He decides to ignore it.
"And you said he was your only biological son?" He asks, voice lilting and head tilting. He knows its a suspicious question at worst, insulting at best. But considering Wayne's past proclivities, he can hardly call it an unexpected question.
Damian puffs in great offense, face twisting angrily. It reminds him of Daniel when Vlad insisted that he was wrong about something or other, and for a moment his heart swells, fond.
But this is not his child, and so the feeling quickly crashes and burns, simmering back into rage. This was not Daniel -- this was his replacement. A replacement that Wayne was free to keep.
Wayne chuckles, idiotically, as if he'd said some funny joke. Vlad's other hand, the one gripping his cane -- something he's required ever since he was dispatched from the hospital all those lonely years ago -- tightens instead. He grinds his teeth -- him and Jack Fenton would get along like a house on fire, he hates it.
"I can understand why you'd ask that, Mister Masters," Wayne says, squeezing Damian's shoulder again, "but yes, Damian is my only biological son. Although that doesn't mean I don't love my other children any less."
Bastard.
For all his posturing and flouncing about caring for his city and his children, Vlad never would have thought the Prince of Gotham capable of abandoning one of them.
But, well.
They all have their dark secrets.
And what one man throws away, another man picks up. If Bruce Wayne didn't want the treasure child that was Daniel Brown, then Vlad Masters was more than happy to take him instead.
"I see."
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I'm not aromantic but I am asexual and maybe demiromantic, and I just want to vent about how much love has hurt me. Not just in like the sense of heartbreak, but in like, the repercussions have always left me with trauma. I have had so many relationships ruined because someone claimed to love me and I didn't love them back. That hurts me just as much as it hurts them. Why is my loss of a friend less than their loss of a crush? Why is it fine that i am paranoid about people being attracted to me now? Just because their love was romantic, why does it have such value over my lack of it? Why can I not live with a roommate who I love and adore, who I bring gifts, who I support, without someone trying to bring romantic love into the equation? It is not. Why is that so hard to understand? Can i not have my best friend be my house husband without having to love him? It feels forced. I don't want it. I have fucking autonomy, except I don't, because i live in the states and my rights to my body are being rolled back. Must my rights to my own concepts of love be removed too? I can love in close, meaningful ways that do not require romance. I am bitterly critical of romantic love now. I don't understand it anymore. It makes me feel unsafe now. I am in a relationship but if i had to say i was in love i would claw my eyes out. I like him. But jesus christ that is not the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. Vulnerability is scary. My last girlfriend punched a hole in my wall, threw things at me, yelled at me, and more. She loved me and i loved her. Love isn't safe. And it makes me angry that I can't talk shit about it the way I can other things that have hurt me, because someone will always defend it. But it sucks. Seeing it on screen gives me the ick sometimes. When people kiss i feel sick to my stomach. When people talk about others being in it, I feel a flash of fear for them. Are they? Or are the trapped like I have been? Love is such a strong social force, it's hard to say no to someone who throws it at you. Or I feel angry. You don't know how they feel! I just. I hate scrolling tiktok because it's tiktok, and I only use it because I have friends on there, but I also hate it because the way people talk about love on the internet makes me itch.
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What do you think about the changes to Luke’s confrontation with Percy ?
Got this ask, got really confused, realized the final episode was out, went to watch it, came back here.
So.
Mh.
As with the majority of the many changes this show made to the books, I have... mixed feelings on it.
Part of me loves this much more than the books - much - more. Because it made so much more sense. Luke, trying to recruit Percy instead of just... flat-out trying to murder him again.
And! That Percy was the one who figured it out, on his own. I love how clever this show makes Percy.
It was a really tense and interesting confrontation.
Now here's the part that made me dislike it. Because it made so much sense.
In the books, Percy not taking Luke's side made complete sense, because Luke just flat-out tries to murder him, for the second time, and he is screaming and throwing so much stuff out in such a frantic way that he does sound like he lost his mind. It's very easy to conclude "My guy, you're being brainwashed by Kronos".
But this Luke? And this Percy?
The Percy who literally spent the entire damn show MAKING Luke's points. The first half of this show, every single conversation between him and Annabeth was basically Percy reciting Luke's bulletpoint list of why the gods suck and demigods shouldn't do their bidding.
And now, what? All of the sudden, just because, what, daddy dearest showed up once and saved Percy's life from Zeus, he is Team Olympus? C'mon. That was weak as fuck.
A very brief summary of a point I've made in the past, I don't want to drag this argument out again but it's important to bring up in this context: PJO is inherently a story about keeping the status quo. It follows the very tried concept of giving the villain (Luke) a very good and valid motivation to rebel against an oppressive force, but undermining the good points he makes by adding something that nobody can argue is bad (Kronos controlling everything in the background), so the hero fights the immediate problem instead of the shared oppressors, instead of just giving the very good and valid motivation to the hero and have them fight for real change.
And in the books, at least there really wasn't much of a reason for Percy to join Luke, and Luke doesn't even really ask for it either.
But this Luke asked. This Luke very coherently expressed himself.
And this Percy has made his exact talking points in the past. And nothing, aside from Poseidon stepping up once in his fucking life, has really changed. If anything, I'd say the bad - Ares, Zeus, ATHENA - really outweigh the good.
Why is Kronos worse than Zeus? Because he ate his children? Zeus did worse things to his own children in mythology, to be quite frank. Show Percy is too clever - too knowledgeable about mythology and the past of their godly family and good at putting one and one together - and too bitter toward the gods to so fully dismiss Luke, in my opinion, especially considering we removed the "I will immediately try to murder you with a killer scorpion" and added Luke explicitly trying to recruit Percy.
And I'm not saying "Percy should have absolutely joined Luke's side", but I am saying that it felt far too much like a 180 on Percy's part to be defending the gods and pretend that Luke isn't making sense. I liked that Chiron called that out in the end, but... Percy's reply was even weaker because there was no foundation for why he would be so stubborn about this.
Even if you don't pull through with it, I think that an angle of doubt, an angle of temptation, should have been played up here.
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