#i use a different one for fics

[yourlocaltiredartist]

wrote this in like 20mins and barely edited lmao anyways

[bleedingoptimism]

It’s a little after eleven when Eddie finally manages to get Tarja to bed. It’s hard for her without her plushie. And really, Eddie is very thankful having a hyper-fixation with her toy seems to be the only ‘consequence’ of having divorced parents Tarja seems to have right now. He always worries if having two homes and constantly moving between them is good for her or not. Especially with Tommy being Tarja’s other dad, but against all odds, he’s good to her. So their kid is doing just fine. She’s happy. And if she’s happy, Eddie is happy.

He’s getting ready to open a beer and relax when there’s a knock on the door. He smiles, assuming is Steve bringing Toothless over and almost knocks his beer to the floor when he opens the door.

Steve looks… well he looks amazing, dressed to the nines. Must’ve been date night. But his eyes are red and puffy, his face covered in dark blotches, and his lips are swollen like he’s been biting them too much.

He’s hugging Toothless to his chest and he smiles at Eddie when he sees him, but he looks so sad it breaks his heart.

Eddie throws the beer behind him, sure it will land on the couch and cradles Steve’s face between his hands, “What did that asshole do?

Steve leans into his touch and shuts his eyes for a moment before sighing and stepping away from him, walking inside and sitting on the couch still holding Toothless like a lifeline. 

“Nothing, he was just-” Steve shakes his head and chuckles darkly, “He’s just so mean,” 

Eddie drops to his knees in front of him and dips his head to look Steve in the eye just like he did that day in the park.

“Break up with him,” he says.

“I can’t.”

“Tommy doesn't deserve you, Steve. You are worth so much more than what that asshole makes you feel. You deserve better. More. Everything,” Eddie pleads, placing his hands on Steve’s knees and squeezing, “If it’s because of Tarja, we’ll figure something out, ok? Lots of people keep in contact with their parent’s significant other after they break up” He rushes, the speech he didn't have quite prepared last week coming out of him in a single breath, “We are friends, right? So you can still visit and see her. Visit me. You don’t have to stop being a part of our lives.” 

Steve is staring at him right now like Eddie just gifted him the moon and he’s so beautiful it’s kind of hard for Eddie to keep eye contact, but he squeezes Steve’s knees again to ground himself and does. Steve needs to know he’s very serious about this. About him.

Eyes shining, Steve takes a deep breath and nods slowly, a tear falling down his cheek that Eddie follows with his eyes and watches until it hides under Steve’s v-neck shirt.

“Hey, even I didn’t put up with Tommy's shit for Tarja’s sake and I birthed her,” he jokes awkwardly, trying to make him laugh and feels like doing a little victory dance when Steve snorts cutely,

“Okay,” he hiccups.

“Yeah?” Eddie smiles back at him, relieved.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, “Fuck Tommy.” And drops back on the couch, looking exhausted, “Can I stay here tonight?” he asks in a whisper, like he’s afraid Eddie will say no. As if.

“Yeah, of course,” Is what he answers, and has half a mind to invite him into his bed but knows it’s a terrible idea. So he lends Steve his favorite flannel pajamas and sets blankets and a pillow on the couch and they say their goodnights.

And if he does a little dance when he closes the door to his room, no one is there to see.

In the morning, Steve stays for breakfast. And attempts to kill Eddie by making his heart explode, cooking it himself from scratch with Tarja’s help, who is so happy she won’t stop running around the kitchen making Toothless fly and sing about ‘happy family breakfast time’.

It’s actually hard to tell if she’s happier to have her plushie back or that Steve is there. Eddie, on the other hand, knows exactly what he’s happiest about. Death by tenderness. Is that a thing? He amuses himself thinking about a couple csi’s with sunglasses saying it, 

“He died because he witnessed something too cute,”

“Ah yes, death by fondness. I’ve seen it before.”

After, Eddie walks him to the door and Steve smiles sweetly at him, and holds his hand, squeezing it once before letting go, “Well, see you. I guess,” he says bashfully and there’s a moment there, a second where time stops and Eddie thinks he should kiss him. Wants to kiss him, needs to kiss him.

But he doesn’t. Because Steve is still dating Tommy, and just because he said he was going to break up with him doesn’t mean he wants to start something new with Eddie.

Eddie himself called him his friend for the first time last night for christ sake. ‘Fucking chill’ he thinks to himself.

🧸

And then a week goes by without hearing a word from Steve. But Eddie doesn't hold it against him.

At first, he figures he needs time to think but then he starts to wonder if he really is going to break up with Tommy. Four days in, he gets paranoid about it. Maybe Steve got brainwashed into thinking Eddie is bad for him. Maybe Tommy told him Eddie was putting ideas in his head, that he shouldn’t talk to him anymore… With him telling Steve to break up with his boyfriend and all... 

He’s well aware of how manipulative Tommy can be and has seen the way he belittles Steve to keep him around, so he knows it’ll be hard for Steve to actually go through with it.

And he can’t exactly show up at Tommy’s and steal Steve away, no matter how appealing the idea might be. The only thing he can do is just think of Steve, wish him well, and send him strength to do what he needs to do. At the end of the day, it needs to be his decision. His choice.

As Tommy’s week with Tarja approaches he starts getting more and more anxious, wondering if it’ll be Steve or Tommy who picks her up.

When the day finally arrives, and the doorbell rings, Tarja runs to open the door and Eddie peeks his head through the hallway.

“Daddy!” Tarja screams.

“Hey, Tata! You ready?” Tommy says and Eddie steps into the hall to greet him too.

“Not yet!” Tarja chuckles and Tommy smiles at her,

“Okay, go get ready. I’ll wait here,”

Eddie walks to the door and leans on the doorframe, “Hey,”

“Hi. Long time no see,” Tommy says and then adds, “You look great,”

“You don’t,” Eddie answers, because it’s true. He looks like shit. Greasy hair, bags under his eyes, chapped lips, wrinkles on his clothes, “What happened?”

“Steve broke up with me.” 

Eddie’s eyes go wide and he smiles, he doesn’t even try to hide it, “He did?”

“Don’t smile, fucker,” Tommy says but there’s no heat behind it. He knows he deserves it.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, not sorry at all.

“Stop,” Tommy whines because Eddie’s smile is actually getting bigger,

“Sorry,” he repeats and then clears his throat, “Did he tell you why?”

“Because I’m a horrible person,” Tommy groans.

“Hey, the first step is to ad-”

“To admit it, yeah, yeah. I know” Tommy interrupts him, groaning again.

Eddie sighs, and punches Tommy’s shoulder lightly, “Look, Tommy, I’m just going to say this because, well… you are pathetic. You need to do better.” And then he points to his back, to where Tarja’s disappeared to get her stuff, “She’s going to grow up and realize you are an awful person and she’s not going to want you in her life. And I’m not going to dissuade her from it, because I already don’t want you to be in mine, you know that, right?”

Tommy looks at him seriously and then nods once, fast and hard. Like he gets it. Like he agrees and is determined to change. And Eddie hopes for Tarja’s sake he is. But knows, deep in his heart, that either way, she’s going to be fine.

“Also, just a heads up. I’m in love with Steve and I’m going to ask him out,” he adds in a rush when he hears Tarja running up behind him.

“You are shitting me,” Tommy whispers, shocked and clenching his teeth.

Eddie laughs, “Nope,” he says, closing his lips loudly around the P.

“Eddie,” Tommy warns him like he’s waiting for Eddie to say he's joking.

“What? I hear he’s single,” Eddie smirks.

“You motherfuc- Hey Tata!” Gathering Tarja in his arms, Tommy drops the subject but he glares at Eddie as he kisses Tarja’s cheek goodbye and murmurs ‘unbelievable’ as he’s leaving. Eddie closes the door and starts laughing at the look on Tommy’s face.

He needs to call Steve.

He tries a couple of times but he doesn’t pick up and he starts worrying Steve might not actually want to talk to him, and then there’s a knock on the door but Eddie, too preoccupied with his anxiety, opens without looking, thinking Tarja forgot something.

When he doesn't hear her, Eddie looks up from his ‘ignored calls’ screen to see nonother than Steve standing there, looking nervous and like a fucking dream with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. A fucking bouquet of flowers. For him. For Eddie. All different shades of red, because he knows is his favorite color.

Eddie just blinks at him a couple of times and Steve flushes even more and drops the hand holding up the flowers, scratches the back of his neck nervously, “This was stupid, the flowers were fucking stupid. They are stupid. I’m stupid, right?”

A laugh bubbles out of Eddie and he grabs him by the scruff of his shirt and pulls him inside. He closes the door once they are both in and slams Steve against it, crushing their lips together. Steve circles his arms around Eddie and holds him close, instantly returning the kiss with fervor. 

They kiss as if it were fate. They kiss until it's hard to breathe and Eddie pulls away only to kiss him again, and again, and again.

“Not stupid,” he murmurs between kisses and feels Steve’s smile against his lips.

Eventually, Eddie takes a step back and lets Steve into his home properly, “Hi,” he says cheesily.

“Hi,” Steve says back grinning, then he lifts up the bouquet again, which is now completely ruined by him still holding it strongly while they made out like crazy, and his smile drops,

“Shit,” he pouts cutely, god Eddie wants to eat him. He laughs and takes the flowers anyway, putting them in an empty glass bottle, because he doesn’t own a flower vase, because he’s a normal human being. ‘Who the fuck owns a flower vase?’

“Come here,” he says, holding out both hands for Steve to take and follow him.

Steve takes his hands but doesn't move, instead swings them from side to side, “Wait, let's talk,”

Fuck, yeah. They should. That’s a good idea. Fuck. Damn, Steven Whatever-The-Fuck-Is-His-Middle-Name Harrington and his sensible and very logical choice…

Eddie huffs exaggeratedly making Steve chuckle and redirects them to the couch, where they sit still holding hands, “Alas,” he says dramatically, “You are right, we should talk. I actually wanted to ask you out properly, not debauch you the second you walked through the door. Sorry about that” he lies, not sorry at all, again.

Steve blushes and smiles, drawing little circles with his thumbs on Eddie’s hands, “Yeah me too. I wanna do this right. Ask you out. Go on dates. I think we should take this slow,”

Eddie makes a face and groans at that. He doesn't want to take it slow. He wants Steve to move in right now or something. Steve rolls his eyes amused at his interruption and keeps going,

“I came here to ask you out the right way because I want you to know I’m committed. But we should think about how this will affect Tarja… and Tommy too. We should go out a few times, spend some time alone, and I want you to meet my friends and my parents and I want to meet your friends and your uncle too and just do this properly and-”

Eddie interrupts him with a kiss, he can’t take it anymore, he’s been dying to kiss Steve for months now and he’s so sweet and thoughtful it makes Eddie insane, makes him feel like he needs to ruin him, but in a nice way, like with devotion and love.

Steve lets go of his hands to wrap his arms around Eddie’s waist and hoists him until he’s straddling Steve. Eddie leans his elbows on Steve’s shoulders, and buries his hands in his hair, pulling and messing with it.

“Okay but have you considered having hard, hot, wet sex, and then maybe we do what you said?” He asks panting against Steve’s lips and actually feeling how that punches the air out of him.

He hugs Eddie closer to his chest and whines, “Yeah okay, we can do it your way,” and gets up, lifting Eddie with him as if he were weightless. Eddie squawks and laughs all the way to his room.

🧸

They spend the week together, talking, eating, drinking, laughing and fucking. Except it’s more than that because when Eddie is inside Steve, with his tongue, his fingers, or his strap, it feels like more. It feels like love. Like fate.

Steve, still determined to take things slow, doesn’t stay there all the time, going back to Robin’s where he moved back to after breaking up with Tommy. He actually brings her over one day and the three of them spend the afternoon together. Eddie decides they are going to be best friends immediately because Robin is hilarious and merciless. When Steve gets back the next day he kisses Eddie so good and hard his knees almost give out on him and tells him he has Robin’s seal of approval. Something he knows Tommy never got.

When the week passes Eddie says goodbye theatrically as if they were cross-star lovers in a bad soap opera and Steve chuckles and calls him ridiculous but kisses him so passionately that Eddie drags him right back inside and they say goodbye again a few hours later.

They had decided to wait until Eddie talked to Tarja about her feelings over Tommy’s and Steve’s breakup and whether she still wanted Steve around or not before having him over again.

But when Tarja gets back home she’s gloomy and silent. She hugs Eddie in greeting when she arrives and then spends the rest of the day lying face down on the floor and occasionally sighing loudly, obviously trying to make Eddie ask her what’s wrong.

And really, Eddie shouldn't find it as funny as he does, but he thinks about calling Wayne and telling him he gets it now when Wayne used to tell him he had too much personality.

Eventually, he lies on the floor next to her and asks. Tarja looks at him with big sad eyes and says, “I haven't seen Steve in a million years! And Daddy said he is not his boyfriend anymore! So I’ll never see him again and I miss him”

Eddie coos at her, “I’m sorry you miss him little dragon, but you can totally see him again! Would you like me to call him? Since he’s my friend too?” Already trying to strategize on how to tell her they are more than friends.

Tarja lights up and jumps off the floor and onto Eddie, punching the breath out of him, “Yes! Yes! Call Steve! Steve smiles more when he’s with you than he did with daddy anyway. Why don’t you boyfriend him instead?”

Well… that was easy.

He chuckles and shakes his head, “That’s a great idea sweety, go grab my phone,”

Tarja runs and grabs Eddie’s phone off the table and hands it to him, he doesn’t bother getting off the floor so she kneels beside him listening attentively as he dials Steve’s number. 

“Hi, handsome, you talked with Tarja already?” Steve greets him after it rings twice.

“Yeah about that, turns out Tarja talked to me, actually,” he chuckles, “Hi, by the way”

“Hi,” Steve repeats lovingly and laughs, “What do you mean?”

“She had this awesome idea!” he says winking at her and she covers her mouth with her tiny hands to hide her giggles, “That, since you are not with Tommy anymore, you should be my boyfriend instead,” he continues, voice going soft and chuckles when he hears Steve's breathless ‘oh’ on the other side of the line, “Come over?”

“Of course, gimme an hour? I'm with a client” Steve hums and Eddie whispers he’ll give him anything he asks for and hangs up.

An hour later Tarja is still lying on the floor, only now it’s with papers and crayons spread all around her when the doorbell rings. She looks up at Eddie excitedly and he nods at her, “Go on then”

Tarja runs to the door and opens it wide to reveal Steve standing there as beautiful as ever, giving Eddie a deja vu of the first time he saw him.

“Papa Steve!” Tarja yells and jumps up to hug him.

Steve gasps and falls to his knees with her in his arms and looks up at Eddie with shocked wet eyes.

‘So much for taking it slow,’ Eddie thinks with a smirk.

Fin.

☝️first part

☕🥐💕?

[fiepige]

Compilation of EVERY single time they changed Hobie's filter in the digital version:

Left: Theatrical release Right: Digital release

You might have to click on some of them to get a better look at Hobie, sadly I don't have a video editor that allows me to make better edits than these :')

[courfee]

“Regulus would be proud of us,” James whispered quietly to no one in particular, still gripping onto the painting like a life raft. 

— Tender Curiosities, Baby!  @otrtbs

[myokk]

Eloise🥹💓

[motleyfam]

It was supposed to be an easy night.

“—With this serum, I shall finally free my atoms of their dimensional prison, allowing me to freely traverse the very fibers of our universe!” the mad scientist proclaims as Red Robin, who is seated in a chair across from him in the makeshift laboratory, works furiously to undo the knots binding his hands behind his back. “The laws of physics shall govern me no more!”

“Don’t you do it, Frank,” Red Robin warns as he struggles with the ropes. “You know what happened last time.”

“That’s Dr. Nexus to you!” the third-rate villain declares as he tips the neon purple liquid into his open mouth.

Tim swears. Tapping his ear to his shoulder, he activates his comms. “Anyone near the abandoned warehouse on 28th and Laremont?" he demands. "We might need some backup.”

“Seriously?” Red Hood snorts incredulously through his earpiece. Tim can hear gunfire in the background. “For Nexus? You’re off your game, kid.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a little tied up at the moment,” Tim bites back irritably. “And Frankie here is about to go into anaphylactic shock. Again.”

“DR. NEXUS!” the villain bellows, then promptly breaks into a coughing fit.

“You’re a community college drop-out, Frank! You do not have a doctorate!”

“Screw you, I’m going back! I’m just”—Frank wheezes—“taking a semester”—wheeze— “off!”

With a final tug, the ropes slip from Tim’s wrists. Jumping to his feet, he jams a hand into the eighth pocket of his utility belt, retrieving a plastic autoinjector.

Doubled over with his hands on his knees, Frank holds up a defensive hand as he approaches. “Wait, no!” He coughs a few times. “Just a little more time! I’m so”—he wheezes—“close! I can”—wheeze—“taste it!”

“You’re tasting the inside of your own airway, that’s what you’re tasting…” Tim mutters under his breath, ripping off the blue plastic cap with his teeth.

“Go to"—wheeze—"hell!”

“Pro tip,” Tim says as he swings the uncapped Epi-Pen in an arc over the villain's thigh, “try not to insult the guy who's saving your life!”

The needle plunges into Frank’s leg for the second time in as many weeks, eliciting a howl of indignation and pain.

“You know, that’s gotta be the most hypocritical thing you’ve ever said."

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim grumbles into the comms, “just send the freaking ambulance…”

[sysig]

You're still standing off to the side. Somehow, center stage has shifted from under your feet without you realizing, and you're standing in the wings, performing to no one.

Starring Role (Patreon)

[spoilers-ahead]

okay!! now that it’s not 2am for me, i’m going to post my selkie!jason todd hc’s straight up au apparently! 

(uh. this was supposed to just be a list of hc’s but i got slightly,,,, carried away)

his selkie skin looks like an oversized red hoodie in his human form, and is just warm enough to help him survive new england winters.

when the summer heat becomes unbearable, he slings the hoodie around his waist

alternatively, he just coasts it out underwater. perks of living in a coastal city!

willis todd was a selkie. he used to tell jason stories of what it was like to swim through the big, wide ocean. of how freeing it felt. how different it is, from the smoggy, heavy air of gotham --- different, but both theirs, in their own right.

but to be honest, jason doesn’t remember much about the stories he was told, or really, anything about willis --- he had been in and out of blackgate for most of jason’s life, working for two-face to try and make ends meet, before dying. 

what jason mostly remembers, are the warnings. don’t let anybody know you’re a selkie. don’t let anybody find your skin. they will find it, and they will use it to control you. even decades later, jason would still remember those warnings. 

catherine is the one who teaches him how to swim, who helps him trial-and-error his way into putting his skin on, and learn how to make the transition seamless. 

after she dies, jason spends three months as a seal, to just... exist. forget.   

although jason technically lives on the streets, whenever he can;t find food, whenever he can’t find somewhere warm to sleep, whenever just being human becomes too unbearable, he spends the night as a seal. he ends up spending more time in the ocean, than on land.

that’s not to say he’s very good at being a seal --- he barely knows how to swim, has to learn how to fish the hard way. 

when bruce finds jason stealing his car tires, he marvels over how nice jason’s hoodie is, soft and fluffy even after all of jason’s time on the streets, especially given the condition jason is in, ribs showing from malnutrition, and the worn and raggedy shape of the rest of his stuff.

jason is skittish when he goes to live in the manor, even after a few weeks. he always adopts an expression particularly similar to a cornered wild animal around alfred in particular, alfred, who keeps on trying to take his hoodie away, purportedly to wash it.

alfred eventually gives up on trying to force jason to wash it --- he figures that as jason becomes more comfortable living at the manor, he’ll wind up telling them why he’s so protective over that hoodie, and they can work something out then. 

whenever wayne manor overwhelms jason with how big and how decadently expensive all the decor is, jason runs away, run to the ocean. 

jason doesn’t actually end up telling alfred and bruce that he’s a selkie --- bruce just has a ridiculous amount of motion alarms, which are triggered every time jason ran off. he had followed jason the third night, and saw him transform. 

bruce doesn’t tell jason that he knows, assuming that jason kept this a secret because he didn’t fully trust either of them. he would later learn that he was right in this assumption (a rare win for bruce in terms of emotional awareness)

except jason doesn’t fully trust either of them, even after a few months. bruce impulsively decides to do a few things --- a) tell jason about batman and robin and his crime-fighting secret identity, and b) tell jason he already knows about him being a selkie. 

jason is absolutely bamboozled by the fact that bruce knows, and yet hasn’t tried to take his hoodie to control him, or to stop him from playing in the ocean for a few hours. 

in fact, (under alfred’s encouragement) bruce offers to take him to the ocean during the day, so he can get “a proper night’s rest that a growing young boy such as himself would need”

jason remembers what his father told him, to never trust anyone, never let his guard down. but bruce has known about jason being a selkie for so long, and he didn’t take his hoodie or try anything. of course he can trust bruce. 

and when he tries on the robin costume for the first time, it fits perfectly. just like his hoodie, his second skin. it fits just like magic. 

oh, it’s a little loose in some places, the legacy of dick fucking grayson a little heavy sometimes, but he’ll grow into it. he’ll make himself, if he has to. 

also, jason finds the fact that even though he’s a friggin’ selkie, his callsign is a bird (a robin, no less) incredibly ironic and funny 

being a selkie is actually so useful for vigilantehood. the amount of people who talk freely, openly, and loudly about their drug smuggling plans near the ports is quite frankly, ridiculous.

honestly, towards the end of his robin years, jason remains genuinely surprised nobody catches on to him or his tactics yet. bruce is very proud.  

even though jason is safe, has been safe for three years, and trusts bruce with his life, his skin, and everything, old habits are hard to break. so he has his hoodie on when he goes to find sheila. 

and anyways, he wants to see if sheila is a selkie too. he’s taking biology right now, and they’re learning about punnett squares. jason’s never met another selkie before, other than willis who he barely remembers. there’s a possibility that sheila knows something, anything, so he has to try. 

sheila gets a glint in her eyes when jason mentions that he’s a selkie, tells him that while she’s not one herself, she’s familiar with the myth. she has long suspected that willis was a selkie, she tells him, and she’s glad to have confirmation. 

jason positively vibrates with excitement, can’t wait to ask, to pester his mother (mother!) with questions upon questions until. 

until. 

sheila doesn’t do anything after she gives him to the joker. she just smokes and smokes. and she doesn’t tell the joker about his hoodie, despite how it would have been much easier for the joker to destroy him that way. much more painful too.  

small mercies, he supposes, in between hacking coughs that brings blood bubbling up his lips. 

after he dies, his hoodie is ripped and in tatters from the crowbar, with burns along the edges from the bomb. bruce has to carefully peel it off his body. 

when jason was alive, his magic kept the hoodie in perfect condition, always. even when the rest of him was covered head-to-toe in mud, or dripping sludge from the nasty gotham sewers. 

bruce stares at the same hoodie, blood-soaked and mangled, so incredibly dissonant from how he remembered it on jason, when he was bright, whole, and alive. 

he can’t stand it. the hoodie that was so precious to jason, that was jason, at the core of him, in this state. dirty and ripped and devoid of the magic jason had exuded. 

in a moment of desperation, late at night, bruce asks alfred to teach him how to sew. he doesn’t dare to practice on jason’s beloved hoodie --- instead, he starts with the suits in his closet, grabbing the first one he sees, regardless of price. rips a hole and sews it back together over and over until he perfects his technique. 

and then he washes the fabric gently, using baby fabric cleanser and scrubbing for hours upon hours until the last traces of the deep-set brown stain from jason’s blood washes down the drain.

he painstakingly sews the scraps of fabric back together with a red thread, carefully sourced to match the hoodie to try and make it flow seamlessly like it used to. 

it doesn’t work, not exactly. despite his best efforts, the creases bruce had carefully sewn together are prominent and thick like scars, littering the  soft fabric.

so he gives up. he hangs it over the grandfather clock entrance to the cave in his study. brings it with him every time he visits jason’s grave, because he doesn’t ever want to keep jason’s hoodie away from him, but he also can’t bear for it to get ruined. 

dick visits him. a rare occurrence, these days. 

dick yells at him, as he is wont to do. 

these days, it feels like they spend more time angry at each other than not. dick says that this isn’t right. isn’t fair to anybody, not to alfred, not to himself, definitely not to jason. he rants, jason deserves to be remembered as he was in life, not frozen in death. 

perhaps he is right. bruce is not unaware of the state of violent, cutting stasis he is in, this putrefaction of his life. and he is certainly not unaware of how it is affecting the people around him. dick. alfred. the neighbor’s kid, the one who wants to be robin.   

bruce tries. not for himself, but for tim. for alfred, for dick. even for stephanie brown, who sometimes, when she smirks just right, or says something with just the right twang, he swears he can see jason in her. 

he still can’t bear to put the hoodie away, because jason deserved better than to be forgotten, so he folds it gently and places it in his closet instead. 

he also can’t bear to look at it for very long, so he forces himself to every single day. 

it’s different from the glass case that houses robin’s tattered suit in the cave --- that, is a reminder of how he failed robin. this, this is salt in a constant, stabbing, festering would, reminding him of how he failed his son. 

it was stephanie, that eventually helped him figure out what to do with the hoodie. when she was young, young enough to cry at ripped pants and skinned knees, young enough that her mother hadn’t touched the drugs yet, her mother would dry up her tears, give her a hug and a kiss on the forehead, before patching her pants up. 

what not many people know, is that before crystal brown set her mind on becoming a nurse, she wanted to be an artist, first. and so she grabs her old set of embroidery needles, and stitched little designs. dogs and cats. stars and planets. tools and gadgets. 

bruce doesn’t react, doesn’t even move, even as stephanie finishes her story. she hangs there awkwardly for a second, stares up at jason’s suit, waiting for him to respond, before shuffling towards the exit of the cave. 

thank you, spoiler, bruce manages to croak out. 

ah, yeah, she says, shrugging lightly while slouching in on herself, any time, boss. she walks out, and bruce watches her go from the reflection on the darkened computer. 

that night, he takes out jason’s hoodie, smooths it out, grabs his threads, and stitches. 

he stitches on constellations, argo navis, for jason’s namesake in the greek myths he had loved so much. a tiny seal, playing with beach balls. little books, with quotes on the sides. a robin, big and bold. 

he tries to make it as true to jason as possible, not just in death and in bruce’s memories, but as he was in life.

jason wakes up abruptly.  

he wakes up in a coffin, cold, alone, and with a gaping hole in his chest. getting dipped in the lazarus pit only made it worse, only made him all the more aware of what he was missing, all the more conscious of it. 

he doesn’t bother trying to learn how to swim with two arms and two legs, instead of two fins and a tail. it doesn’t feel the same. it only reminds him of what he’s lost. 

sometimes, on sleepless nights that happen more often than not, he wonders what would have happened if he still had a hoodie, still could swim. 

if he still was robin. 

and he doesn’t have access to the cave anymore, or to the titan’s tower, or the watchtower, and his memory of the past is still patchy and shitty in some places. 

so in a burst of impulsivity fueled by the person he no longer is, he prints out photos of robin’s costume from the internet and recreates it on his own. 

if his skin is gone, then fine. fine! he’s perfectly perfunctorily aware that nothing about this resurrection of his is natural. if he doesn’t think too much about it, he’ll be alright. his hoodie, his skin, that was something he was born with, a birthright that died with him. 

but robin, robin was something that he helped shape. robin was something that he worked for, changed himself for. 

and the makeshift robin suit --- it doesn’t fit him, not anymore. no, it feels wrong, like a child playing with their parent’s suit. or --- he realizes, perhaps more accurately, like an adult realizing they no longer fit in their favorite clothes. 

and --- and --- what was the point of it all? what was the point, of trying to make bruce proud of him, of getting dick’s approval, of trying to futilely save people over and over again from the same gallery of supervillains who keep on escaping from prison?!

and what was the point of carving out a space for himself if the joker was just going to beat him out of it, and if tim drake was going to insert himself in the hole he left behind?

and then the next thing he knows he’s in titan’s tower hitting tim drake over and over again because who let him? who let him take jason’s role as a son, as a brother, as a hero? how dare he?

but when he’s slit tim’s throat and torn the ‘R’ off his chest, jason doesn’t feel any better. the robin suit still doesn’t fit. his hoodie’s still gone. 

he’s starting to think it never will, not again. 

sometimes, when he gets tired enough to let his mind wander, he wonders what happened to his suit. 

he’s pretty sure he died with it, so either the hoodie is with the joker, batman, or... gone entirely. (it’s not like they found willis’ skin after he died. maybe selkie skins just disappear in a cloud of sea foam once they die, or some little mermaid shit like that)

it’s a cold comfort, that nobody can manipulate him now. nobody can control him --- not even batman. 

(bruce had thought about it. when he first had his suspicious regarding who the red hood was, before he knew there was any trace of the son he once had left. he thought about using the hoodie, using jason’s selkie skin to coerce him, at least to stop murdering people, to stop hurting their family.) 

(he would never go that far, in retrospect, or at least, he doesn’t think he could ever. to do that to jason, betray his trust so thoroughly and completely... but it would be a lie to say that he didn’t consider it.)

bruce reflects on this as jason reveals himself, the joker tied up at his feet with a gun pressed to his head, and venom spitting from his son’s mouth.  

but when he lifts the batarang to hit jason’s gun, or wrist, or anything that’ll force him to drop the gun, he realizes that his hands are shaking. 

and when he throws the batarang, he knows a millisecond after he’s let go, that he’s miscalculated the ricochet. 

so when jason escapes that night, bruce knows he’s fucked up. 

jason goes off the maps, completely. bruce doesn’t know where he is, if he’s safe, if he even made it out of the explosion that night. 

it takes weeks. weeks for bruce to track jason down, from meticulously documenting the dropped threads of where the red hood was pulling strings in the gotham underworld behind the scenes, to tracking security cameras with facial recognition. 

once bruce manages find where he’s staying, make sure he’s safe, he knows what he wants to do. and, he knows what he needs to do. 

jason gets a package in the mail, five weeks after his disasterous meeting with batman and the joker. unmarked, unsigned, no return address. 

when jason opens the box gingerly and carefully, he holds on to his skin for the first time in years. and then, and then, and then --- something right slots into place. his fingers brushed gently over the tiny spotted seal he knows he used to look like, the books he remembered ranting to bruce about for hours on end. 

the robin, on the top left, over his heart, big enough to have changed him, yet small enough to not define him. 

it’s not perfect. it doesn’t even fix anything, not entirely. he still fights with bruce most times he sees him, tries to punch dick in the face, steadfastly ignores tim and steph the entire time. 

but it’s something. it’s something, and the next time nightwing, batman, spoiler, and robin fight a gang on the docks, the red hood gives them a helping hand before jumping back into the ocean and swimming away.

fin!

wow this got long

[brainrot-jikan]

im not the biggest alhaitham/kaveh shipper (because im a rare pair ho) but it seems to me that in alhaitham/kaveh getting-together fics tend to be... unequal.

the beautiful thing about alhaitham and kaveh is that they're both equally right and equally wrong and equally dicks about it. but the writers for alhaitham/kaveh much more frequently seem to give alhaitham the burden change (the burden of the character flaw) instead of kaveh.

in any good character arc, the main character has a fatal flaw or misconception, and by the end of that arc they have addressed that flaw in some definitive way. scrooge was a scrooge and learned that being that way was detrimental; merlin from finding nemo was overprotective to a fault and had to learn that he couldn't (and shouldn't) control everything and to let go; the wolf from little red riding hood learns that you should stop while you're ahead.

stories centering around romance tend to lean heavily on character arcs, which makes sense. and since romance generally requires two individuals to be vulnerable and open and emotional with each other, it makes double sense that alhaitham/kaveh authors zoom straight into alhaitham's lack of emotional vulnerability.

this bothers me.

in society, individuals are expected to experience and present emotions in a specific way. if someone dies, you cry. if someone smiles at you, you smile back. if you're at a party, you're supposed to be having fun. if you don't do these things, you're seen as impolite at best and a inhuman freak at worst. when these behaviors are frequent it's often viewed as emotional immaturity, or a lack of ability to feel at all. the inability or lack of willingness to conform to societies emotional expectations of you is seen as a flaw and a reason for exclusion.

alhaitham is canonically disliked and avoided for being the way he is. he prefers it this way, but that doesn't mean the people perpetuating this avoidance are in the right. they are the societal pressure to conform that alhaitham blows off. alhaitham could be the way he is for a lot of reasons: avoidant attachment style, trauma, following someone else's example (eg. his grandmother), or just his base personality. it doesn't MATTER. he is the way he is. kaveh having to accept that should be part of the story.

putting the burden of the fatal flaw on alhaitham, making the way alhaitham treats kaveh and the people around him the problem, feels invalidating. it implies heavily that alhaitham's way of interfacing with the world, alhaitham's very SELF, is incorrect. my suggestion is to flip a larger portion of that burden onto kaveh. kaveh 👏 character 👏 arcs 👏

some examples/recommendations:

- make kaveh project his insecurities onto other people but especially onto alhaitham; he's overly reliant on other people for his own self worth, and he perceives alhaitham's lack of positive feedback as a direct reflection of how alhaitham feels about him. but learns along the way that alhaitham doesn't hate him, kaveh's actual struggle is with hating himself and being unable to his own self as worthy of love. maybe throw in how you are responsible for your own recovery, other people can help but you can't rely on them to carry you through self actualization.

- or, kaveh tries to make alhaitham behave more like a "normal" person, to be more pleasant and emotive and forthcoming, and then realizes he's in the wrong for trying to make alhaitham into something he's not, possibly for all the wrong reasons (not because he likes alhaitham better like that, but bc society says that's healthier and a better/more conforming way to be)

- or you could go ahead make alhaitham's issues the main problem but they're too complicated to overcome in a short period of time, so kaveh has to accept alhaitham is doing his best in his own way and not push for unrealistic and unhealthy changes. he could alter his own behavior to give alhaitham space and time and a safe place to land.

that got sappy so it's past time for me to dip out. go forth and ship things; but maybe consider letting alhaitham be a rude stone-faced bastard if he wants to be.

[turrondeluxe]

Opinion on the hc that the (2012) turtles are bilingual (with there first language being Japanese) ?

(Kansjevdjdhud, I love that hc smm<3)

ITS ONE OF MY FAVORITE HEADCANON EVER

i love multilingual turtles!!!

i do think 2012 it's the one iteration that seems to be more in touch with yoshi's culture the most.

this might be for the fact that yoshi didn't have absolutely anyone at all when he arrived to new york, a complete unknown different place to him.

it's not literally specificed but one can deduce yoshi got the four turtles in the first place as an attempt to not feel as lonely after losing his family,his clan and being exiled.

so after the mutation i feel like yoshi would have taught the boys how to speak and read in japanese first instead of english since he would have been trying to find a level of normalcy and comfort in all he was going trough.

Another fact is that the brothers are used to splinter telling them stories as a way to pass the time when they were growing up. I like to think he tells them stories about different things like legends and just silly random stories from his past, all in yoshi's og language.

The show also shows it a lot! the brothers speak and understand japanese words pretty randomly! So i do think they mostly speak it while they are by themselves exclusively and at home instead of english (probably not much when april or casey are around as to not make them feel left out of the conversation tho)

also another fun silly headcanon i like is that mikey somehow speaks and understands spanish because of how he says random words of the language in the show too lol. as to how he learnt it himself idk tho. he probably found some telenovelas in vhs or smt lmao

[velvetrambles]

I'm so sorry for this

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

🪱🧠 Wiggly Wednesday 🧠🪱

this week, i was tagged by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation, @steddieas-shegoes, and @matchingbatbites!

this is one that i’ve had in my head for a LOONNNG time now, way before the song got big, even before @melonalemonade’s Zteevposting, so it’s always been Djo and Caroline BUT:

steve, robin, and eddie who all move to chicago together after vecna.

eddie, who gets offered a contract after a show sometime after they’ve arrived and before the thing between him and steve becomes something, and leaves to LA to fulfil the contact.

i’m my head it’s angsty; eddie and steve’s something becoming a Something™ the night before eddie leaves… a fact he doesn’t tell steve.

the record label squeezes two mediocre albums out of him and his image and eddie comes back to chicago, starts working as a gig manager for the same club/bar he got his not so great break at.

he hasn’t spoken to steve or robin in all the time he was gone (not that he necessarily didn’t want to, but could a) never drum up the balls to try calling steve, and b) didn’t want to incur the wrath of robin by calling her).

so he works. he pulls in some gigs with real promise, but a lot of duds.

one night, he gets to the club halfway through the set time of tonight’s act, one that his assistant signed up, and decides to look in on them after going through his paperwork for the evening. (you can’t say he isn’t a responsible part-owner)

there’s just one person on stage, wait, nope. two. one at the mic with a guitar and one out of the spotlight at a keyboard.

“Okay—for this next one.. I gotta tell you, it’s weird being back in this town.” the man on mic says, his oddly fake-looking mustache scrunching with a smirk. His voice is oddly familiar…

“I lived here a good couple years ago now, and things going to shit is what started all this.” he gestures around to the stage and crowd. “So, here’s one for you, Chicago.”

he pushes a loose hair of his.. wig?? (wig and mustache?? really?) out of his face and starts to play.

the tune is good. really good. really really good. so good that he is blindly waving down his assistant for the artist’s info.

he doesn’t take his eyes off the man on stage.

eddie sees a foot in a strikingly familiar blue adidas shoe press onto a pedal in front of him (weird)

the man rolls his shoulder around his a familiar way when sings about being in chicago at 24 (isn’t that about how old he and steve were when—)

a pice of paper is shoved into his hand; the artist’s name is Djo. (“Like Joe.” his assistants note says beside the name.) damn, does everything have to remind him of steve tonight? his middle name was Joseph. (coincidence)

Djo sings about the end to a beginning. Eddie knows how that feels.. (hang on…)

He sings about someone named Caroline encouraging him, and Eddie thinks of how much he teased Robin about her middle name being the same (hold the fuck on??)

it takes Eddie all three of Djo’s “You take the man out of the city, not the city out the man.”s for him to be sure.

That’s Steve up there on that stage.

And he’ll be damned if he misses this chance.

[f-imaginings]

I'm really enjoying seeing concepts repeat now that new fans are finding billford.

Seeing new takes on themes that OG billford fans from before the book of bill enjoyed like:

🔺 Ford joins Bill AUs

🔺 University AUs

🔺 Jekyll and Hyde parallels for Bord

🔺 Bill reincarnating to be a human pest in the shack as part of his redemption dues

🔺 Ford building a puppet body for Bill rehashing Pygmalion

🔺 Lots and lots of Ford traps Bill early on ideas

🔺 And lots of "what if Bill wasn't evil and actually was nice and circumstances contrive so they stay together in a healthy way" AUs that stretch realism (which Bill is all for so go off I guess)

The one new thing I've seen with the new wave of Billford fans is Bill and Ford meeting as children and that panning out. That's a new fun one.

It's really nice to see patterns repeating and all this new content for ideas that folks have been churning out. Billford fans, we are being fed well!

[sukirichi]

PLEASE STOP COPYING FICS ‼️

I am by no means gatekeeping concepts or tropes. We all know that it’s normal to see the same tropes or AUs be used differently, and that is not plagiarism. However, I recently found a fic that was oddly similar to my old (and discontinued) Gojo x Reader series, Reckless. The CEO! Gojo is nothing new, and neither is an accidental pregnancy trope. The only reason I am concerned is because this Gojo series I found has the exact same themes as Reckless that consists of: a playboy CEO Gojo with a very notorious reputation, a poor reader who is an employee and asset to the company (someone who works closely with Gojo), reader getting knocked up from a one night stand with Gojo, reader with a seemingly dead/absent mother yet still in contact with her father, Gojo with a very traditional family who does not like reader, and Gojo with an ex he struggles to let go of - which are all elements of Reckless.

The first chapter of that Gojo fic is also eerily similar to my first chapter with the same flow of: YN finding out she’s pregnant and her friend being there for her, Gojo saying he’ll take responsibility because ‘they both made the baby’, YN having to move in with Gojo to take care of the baby, and both of them coming to a mutual agreement that their ‘relationship’ will be purely for the baby’s benefit. The flow of events and specific details about the characters’ backgrounds are too similar to mine.

Again, I am not gatekeeping concepts, just as how I’ve had other writers ask me if they could write their own stories or takes based off of the NAOYA’S TROPHY WIFE COLLECTION or the BONTEN HUSBANDS EXCLUSIVE, and I’m fine with that. I’m even happy people are inspired by what I write. But being inspired is completely different from taking someone’s story and posting it as yours. Please trust your own creativity and skills in writing. You can write amazing stories and have people love them without having to steal from others.

It’s sad to say this is not the first time I, and other writers, have been plagiarized. It’s even more upsetting to know that a friend of mine who has also written a Gojo series (that I’m sure you all know and dearly love) experiences the same issues with the same person. The fact that this is happening to many writers out there is disheartening. We work hard and pour a lot of love in the stories we create. None of us are getting paid for this, and we simply want to share our passions with others. So please, let us be kinder with one another and show love and support the right way. If you love a fic, you give feedback and rb/comment + show support to the writer. You don’t steal their ideas and play it off as your own because you liked it.

[takaraphoenix]

The Clever One

(this is a sneak peek for the Steter fic I'm currently working on, where Stiles realizes in season 1 that Peter's canon behavior toward him is strange, how he never hurts Stiles, never tries to kill him, offers Stiles a choice. He comes to the conclusion that he's Peter's mate. So he sets conditions for Peter, leading to a season 2 rewrite with Alpha Peter. and Alpha Mate Stiles, rebuilding the Hale Pack together.)

--

Stiles walked into the broken, burned out husk of the Hale House like he owned the place. Just to be stopped by a hand on his chest and blue eyes flashing at him from Derek’s annoyed face.

“What are you doing here, Stiles,” Derek growled.

“I’m here to talk to your glorious Alpha,” Stiles tilted his head with an uncaring air.

He was not going to let Derek threaten him. Sure, in the past his heart would jump and he would be afraid, even if he still helped Derek out. Right now, Stiles was fully confident in his own safety. Derek narrowed his eyes in irritation, smelling or hearing that Stiles wasn’t intimidated.

“You fought him, in the hospital. You fought him to protect me,” Stiles argued with a frown. “He killed your sister, Derek. Why did you join him?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Derek was close to snarling.

“Try me,” Stiles threw up his hands. “I understand a lot more than you think.”

This time, Derek did snarl. Just to receive a warning growl from upstairs. A cocky grin spread over Stiles’ lips. He’d known the Alpha was here too. He’d known that as long as Peter was close by, Derek wouldn’t get to do any threatening or bodily harm. The beta ground his teeth and stepped back. Hah. Oh, Stiles was absolutely going to revel in the fact that he now outranked Derek. Alpha Mate beat out the Alpha’s right-hand. His grin turned a note of shit-eating.

“He was in a coma for six years. Slowly healing. Aware of everything around him. You couldn’t understand what that is like for a wolf, especially…” Derek swallowed hard, looking away. “Everyone was dead, me and Laura were gone. He was alone with it all.”

“He went insane,” Stiles nodded. “I feel like we established the insanity part in the hospital. You fought him in the hospital. I want to know what changed since then.”

“He’s still healing,” Derek’s voice dropped even more. “He wasn’t fully healed when he killed Laura, he was… feral. Acting on instincts. Seeking to get better. Becoming Alpha… did that.”

Stiles could hear it. He could hear the despair in Derek’s voice. Stiles closed his eyes and heaved a soft sigh. Asking Derek was useless, Derek desperately wanted to believe this. Because what was the other option? That his only living family had willingly, or even joyfully, murdered Derek’s sister? No. Of course did Derek cling onto the hope that things could get better now.

“Okay,” Stiles sighed. “You can go now, Derek.”

The beta stared at him incredulously. “You don’t tell me what to do, Stiles. Werewolf, human. We established this. Why do you think you can tell me what to do, in my own home.”

With all the confidence he could muster did Stiles raise his head, not cowering, holding Derek’s gaze with a calm pulse. “Because Alpha Mate outranks right-hand.”

And oh this felt good. Stiles smirked cockily. Even as a not werewolf, he could feel the tension in the air. The shocked look on Derek’s face – genuine shock, meaning Derek hadn’t put it together yet and Peter hadn’t told him, oh damn, Derek hadn’t even known. A laugh barked out from upstairs.

“I knew you would figure it out on your own. I didn’t think so soon though,” Peter sounded both amused and nearly fond. “Leave us, Derek.”

Grounding his teeth together, Derek shot his uncle one last look before he headed out. Peter only walked into view at the top of the stairs after they could hear the Camaro roar to life and drive off.

“Tell me that he’s right,” Stiles ordered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tell me that you are still healing. Getting better. Because, you know, the bit where you mauled one of my best friends-”

“She was all over you,” Peter growled, his eyes flashing red. “You were all over her.”

Stiles swallowed, the cockiness cracking some. Not because the growling and red eyes intimidated him, but because of how much they turned him on. No one had ever been possessive over him. Heck, no one had ever been interested in him. Sure, Lydia had gone to Homecoming with him in the end, but that had been more coercion from Allison and pity than Lydia actually wanting him. Lydia still wanted Jackson. Still loved Jackson. Might always love Jackson.

Peter cleared his throat, all calm and professional again. “I am still healing. The outside heals the fastest, it’s… the inside that needs more time, even with wolf-healing. A large part of me is still very… feral and reduced to base instincts. I attacked her because my inner wolf felt threatened by her, threatened by the way she was making advances on my mate.”

Stiles’ heart jumped a little at that. So he had figured it out, but actually hearing himself referred to as Peter’s mate was something else entirely than figuring it out on his own, for himself. Stiles bit down on his cheek, his arms tightly crossed in front of his chest. Part of him was grateful Peter was still at the top of the stairs. Physical distance between them. This whole conversation was a lot. Though Stiles had come to the realization that he was Peter’s mate, he had not fully come to terms with that fact. He didn’t know what to do with it, or what it could or should or would mean.

“I’m not going to do anything to you,” Peter’s voice was soft, which might be the weirdest part of this entire conversation. “Or with you. Not yet. You’re more child than man, Stiles. But I can already tell why my wolf chose you as my mate. You are clever. Brilliant. Tricky. Manipulative. Cunning. Quick-witted. All the qualities I cherish the most.”

Stiles couldn’t help but flush at that. “Yeah, well, don’t make it sound like that’s your grand gesture there, I am not exactly tripping over myself trying to get into your pants either. You turned my best friend into a werewolf, without his consent – even though you proved that you are capable of asking for it when you asked me if I wanted the bite – and you mauled Lydia. I’m not considering you Prince Charming. And from what my research showed, a werewolf mate-bond is something that strengthens and grows over time. So, I guess, you still have time to prove yourself.”

Peter quirked his lips, looking absolutely amused by him. “Prove myself, mh?”

“Again. Maiming and mauling of people I love,” Stiles narrowed his eyes. “You say you don’t want anything romantic or sexual with me yet, but this mate-bond thing is a life-long bond. At one point, you will. Because you’re the wolf here. You can feel it. So, if you want me to be on the same page by then, you better prove yourself to me.”

The grin on Peter’s lips looked near amazed or excited and Stiles didn’t know what to do with that. It was like the Alpha enjoyed being challenged, enjoyed that Stiles wasn’t just swooning at the prospect of having a soulmate, but gave Peter conditions to earn it. Weird.

“You’ve seen what I’m capable of,” and it was clearly implied here that Peter didn’t just speak of his werewolf abilities but morally, the depth of the things he was willing to do. “So tell me then, what do you think you can demand of me?”

“What I think I can demand of you? Pretty much anything, as long as it’s about me,” Stiles huffed amused, cocking his head. “You can’t hurt me. I mean, physically can’t. And I think that… even emotionally, you couldn’t, not intentionally. Heck, part of me thinks that you turning Scotty was for me, in a twisted, weird way, because your wolf could smell me all over him, thought it would appeal to me if you had my best friend in your pack. And Lydia. You attacked her irrationally, feral and threatened, but when I asked you to let someone come and help her, you agreed. Because you saw how much her condition was getting to me. I think I can ask pretty much anything of you.”

“Manipulative,” Peter pointed out, and he sounded proud and impressed and pleased. “Well, then.”

“You will never lay a hand on anyone I love again,” Stiles eyes were hard and his voice was cold, his body-language conveying how serious he was. “Not my dad, not Scott, not Scott’s mom, not Lydia. Reign your possessive wolf instincts in. She’s not interested in me anyway. If you ever hurt any of them again, I will put a wolfsbane bullet in you myself.”

“Threatening,” Peter smirked. “Cute.”

“I’m not joking,” Stiles frowned annoyed. “I’m the sheriff’s son. I know how to use a gun. And I know where to get wolfsbane bullets from.”

The playfulness left Peter when he realized that Stiles needed to be taken seriously here. “Okay. Noted down. I don’t plan on hurting my pack anyway. Of which Scott is a part of now, whether he likes it or not. And Lydia, well, the cuts were deep so who knows if she will end up joining my pack too. Your father is safe, I promise you that.”

There was still quip and snark in his voice, but that last sentence was spoken with sincerity and Stiles nodded pleased. “No more turning anyone without their consent. Scott hates this, hates being a werewolf, if he’d had a choice he would have said no. I get that a pack of three isn’t going to do you much good, I know you’re going to turn more people, strengthen the pack. But everyone you bite will first be informed of both the good and the bad, they will be given a choice, and that choice is going to be respected by you. The way you gave me a choice, and respected it.”

“I have no problem with that condition,” Peter waved a dismissive hand. “Scott is more trouble than he is gain to me, as is. A beta who doesn’t want to be a werewolf is not an asset to the pack. Betas who are loyal to their Alpha, who will be willing to listen to their inner wolves, will be assets. I only turned him out of instinct, the need to strengthen my pack while not being… mentally there enough to actually think things through. Believe me, I will plan out my pack in the future.”

“Our,” Stiles corrected unflinchingly. “Alpha Mate. Makes this my pack too, doesn’t it?”

The look on Peter’s face was nearly smug with delight. “Our pack.”

[lunarharp]

pretty & cute witch men