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vettelsdarling · 11 months

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can you please write a love triangle story between carlos sainz and charles leclerc? you could decide who she ends up with at the end

When I saw your eyes

➪This is a great prompt, I love a good love triangle!

➪This is my take on it, hope you enjoy!

Just a few things to note:

This is set in the 2022 season.

You’re 23 and the daughter of Christian and Beverly, so your biological sister is Olivia.

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Horner!Fem!Reader (x Charles Leclerc)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of mature themes, daddy issues, angst

Word Count: 5.2k+

Backstory

You were a professional motorbike racer. You'd won three world championships in the sport and were racing for Red Bull. Your father, Christian was the team principal for the Red Bull Formula One team, so it only made sense for you to drive for them. After having competed so many times, you decided to announce your break. You took to Instagram to make a public statement about it. Many fans were supportive and not many were against your well-being and the fact that you were in need of some time away.

Your father had asked you several times to come visit him and Geri. You didn't really like Geri all that much. She was one of the main reasons your father and your mother split. Your mother had been pregnant and gave birth to your only real sister whilst your father decided to try and make it with the spice girl. You resented Geri for ruining what could have been a perfect family. Yet, since you didn't have anything to do, you decided to crash with them for a week.

“So Dad, what's going on in the Formula One world?” You asked as everyone was sitting at the table, eating a hearty breakfast.

“Oh, you know, just this and that. We're in the lead, so it's smooth sailing for now.” You were happy to hear that your father didn't have much to stress about. You remembered the times he told you he'd stay up all night to make calls for his drivers and mechanics. It could get tiring.

“Daddy, I think she should go watch the next race,” said Olivia with a smile. She had syrup on her lips from the waffle she was eating.

“That's not a bad idea, what do you think? Wouldn't it be something you'd like? You used to love attending the races in the garage with me when you were younger.” You were not that little girl anymore. Christian had a hard time understanding that fact and acknowledging it.

“Dad… You know I don't really have an interest in cars anymore.” You leaned back in your chair and took a bite out of a poppy seed bagel that you had spread a generous amount of cream cheese on.

“Of course, I know that. I just figured maybe you'd enjoy it. You know the struggle of G-force like these drivers,” he chuckled.

“Not like them. Definitely not. I don't experience much G-force. The highest is probably at 1.4. I don't think I've gone beyond that.”

“Either way, I think you should join me next weekend, yeah? It'll be fun.” You shrugged and checked your calendar to see if it was free. When you opened it, you saw that you'd made a note for the Isle of Man. It was extremely dangerous, but you sought the thrill. You were so used to the domestic side of racing, you wanted something that'd make your heart jump out of your chest. Under no circumstances could you admit it to your father though. He’d freak out. The Isle of Man was basically a Darwin award in itself.

“Um, I don't have time next week, actually.” Your father gave you a disappointed look for some reason.

“It's Monaco, it's a really big event. Several celebrities will attend.” Was it more important than your racing? You had to weigh your options first.

“I have an important event to attend. I can't go. You can take Olivia.” Before Christian could get a word in, you'd already left for your room. Even with all the love and respect you held for him, conversing was hard. That's why you decided to stay with your mother. When you moved out, you'd only ever invite her over. You didn't mind the occasional check-in from Christian, but it was tiring to talk face-to-face.

A week passed by quickly and you were on the Isle of Man with your motorbike. You knew just how dangerous it was, but you needed the chase. Your father was in Monaco, without a single clue as to what you were getting yourself into.

Without a second thought, you focused on yourself. It was time. The practice race began and you sped off. Your bike was the fastest, which wasn't much of a surprise. The island was beautiful. You loved it.

Days passed and the real race was approaching fast. You were beyond excited. The practice sessions had gone smoother than expected and you could only imagine the same for the actual thing. So when the day finally came, you gave it your all. The race started and your speed was dangerously unreal. It was clear to you how so many people had lost their lives in the previous races.

The race lasted a whole week and you ended up winning. It was everywhere in the news. Christian got a message from Geri about it. She'd sent him a link to a news article. He only saw it after the race was over, as he had to focus on watching the two Red Bulls on the grid.

When he saw the article he was fuming. He called you several times but nothing happened. You didn't pick up. It was for the sole reason of not wanting to listen to his lecture. However, after he didn't stop— you had to pick up.

“Hello? What the hell were you thinking?! Putting your life on the line like that! Are you insane?!” He spat. People started noticing.

“Dad, I'm alive. Besides, I won the race. Are you not proud of me?” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Isle of Man… It's a death wish. Why would you— I just… I don't get it.”

“I was so tired of not having that thrill I used to have… You must know. Surely you must. Look, I'll come to the next race. Let me know when and where. We can talk more then, okay? For now, I really have to go.” You quickly hung up before he was able to say anything else.

A lot of time passed and you decided to wait until the race after Montreal, as it was at Silverstone. You didn't have to travel far for that. When you parked your motorbike, you noticed a sleek Ferrari pulling up next to you. On your other side, a Volkswagen Golf pulled up. Your helmet was stuck for some reason, so to not look like a fool trying to take it off, you decided to keep it on.

“Hey, you! You know you can't park here, right?” You didn't pull up the shade. You didn't want the man to see you. He moved closer to you with his car keys dangling from his finger. The other man came up behind him. They were both wearing Ferrari shirts. They were definitely racing for Ferrari.

“Yeah, I can.” You put a hand on your hip and tapped your shoe to the asphalt.

“It's reserved for staff and drivers. Fans have to find parking elsewhere,” the other man spoke. He had a thick Spanish accent.

“Fan? I didn't come here because I actually wanted to.”

“Then why are you here?”

“My father.” Curt reply. You didn't want to carry on with the conversation, so you started walking away.

“That doesn't make sense.” The one with the heavy accent grabbed your shoulder.

“It does if you know who Christian Horner is.” With that, you started walking again. You assumed they were dumbfounded because they didn't follow you even though they were supposed to walk in the same direction.

When you got to the paddock, many people looked at you weirdly. You were wearing a helmet and a Red Bull race suit. You didn't have any other Red Bull clothes to represent them, so you chose whatever you had… Which was your race suit.

“There you are! What's with the getup?” Asked your father before opening the shade to your helmet.

“I didn't have anything else. My helmet is stuck by the way. You wouldn't mind helping me, would you?” He easily got it off and handed it back to you. You flung your hair to the side to avoid it being static.

“Now I think I deserve an explanation.” The two of you were standing in front of the Red Bull garage, which was right next to the Ferrari garage.

“I won. That's your explanation, okay?” You turned around to go find Max. You hadn't met him yet, but you'd heard great things about him.

“No, that's not good enough. You better explain right now.” He started raising his voice. This caught the attention of two sets of eyes from the next garage over.

“I have 3 world championships under my belt. It started boring me and I just wanted something different for a change. Is that really so bad?” You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes.

“Yes, it is! It's the fucking Isle of Man!” He yelled. You were sure some of the mechanics were looking your way.

“Leave me alone, alright? I'm 23, I'm not a child. I can make my own rational decisions. I wouldn't have done it if I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it! Not only did I survive, I won! Besides, you're not in any actual position to take the role of a concerned father. You know that,” You returned the favour by yelling louder. Christian clenched his jaw and threw his arms up in the air. He left you alone to go cool off.

“Isle of Man? That's cool,” a voice snuck up behind you. It was the two guys from earlier. You weren't sure what to say. You knew your conversation had been loud, but you didn't actually expect anyone to be invested in it.

“Yeah? Thanks.”

“I'm Charles, and that's Carlos.” You examined their features. They weren't too bad-looking. You told them your name and shook both hands.

“So why didn't you choose to race in Formula One?” Carlos asked. The question wasn't hard at all. You'd always been a big fan of motorbikes.

“I was always into motorbikes. When I was a little girl, it was my dream to win a world championship in the MotoGP. My dream became a reality. Three times.” You said it as if becoming a three-time world champion wasn't a big thing.

“Three world titles… That's a great accomplishment, you know?” Charles smiled. You only looked at him briefly before turning your attention to your nails.

“I didn't know Christian had a daughter who raced,” Carlos chimed in.

“Well, he does. Aren't the two of you supposed to be getting ready? Leave me be, and go.” You were only stern because you were beyond uncomfortable and you'd just snapped at your father. The two Ferrari drivers left for their garage and you returned to Red Bull’s. Your father seemed to have calmed down a bit, likely due to the level-headed mindset he'd need for the race.

It wasn't long before the race started and people began whispering here and there whilst watching their screens intensely. You could hear the fans screaming outside as well. Certainly more overwhelming than your turf in motorsport. You'd already gotten a headache. There was still some time left for you to think about what to tell your father. Well, how to go about saying things.

When the race finally ended, a certain doom hit you. Everything had been said and done. The interviews were over and the celebrations had been held. A driver from Mercedes had generously offered to throw a small party, which you'd been extended an invite to. You'd graciously accepted it.

All you had to do first was talk to your father.

“Dad, it's not like I went in completely blind. I've studied it many times. More times than you know.” Geri was next to him, rubbing his forearm to try and calm his nerves.

“You realize seasoned racers have tried and failed before, right? Do you know what I mean by failed? Do you?!” He wasn't listening. He never was.

“Yes, but I didn't die! Fuck’s sake, I'm alive! I won! Maybe if you would've been more invested in my life, you would've seen the world champion in me earlier. It's okay though… You chose to throw me and mum away.” You chose to leave with those words, finishing strong but also not letting yourself get too carried away. It was your father after all…

You hurried out to your bike, hooking up your GPS to it. The Mercedes driver, Hamilton, had given you the address of the club and it wasn't too far away. You secured your helmet and jumped on, speeding off toward your destination.

The party was already lively. The first thing you did was take a seat by the bar. You wanted to get absolutely wasted and didn't plan on waking up with a clear head the following morning.

“Can I start a tab?” The bartender nodded, as he cleaned a tall glass.

“I'll just have a dry martini. Keep them coming.” Before he could ask for ID, you laid it out in front of him. It was your driver's license. All licenses were famous for looking like a prison sentence, but you'd come out surprisingly great in your photo.

“What are you doing all alone?” Someone took a seat right next to you. A gesture you'd normally find bothersome, but you didn't mind a little banter. Especially because you recognized the voice by its distinct accent and octave.

“I'm indulging in life’s luxuries,” you said with a sarcastic undertone. If a dry martini was considered a luxury, you could've died with no regrets years ago.

“Funny,” a voice came up behind you and took a seat on the other side of you. You were sandwiched between two Ferrari drivers. One had just won the Silverstone race. Congratulations were in order. You weren't a complete asshole.

“I guess I should say congrats on winning. I hear Silverstone is a big thing in Formula 1,” you said and popped an olive into your mouth. It oozed gin. Carlos wore a wide grin on his face. A grin you couldn't help but label attractive.

“Thank you. You look nice, by the way.” Carlos managed to smoothly wedge in that compliment. A faint chuckle snuck its way past your lips.

“What’s with the laughing? You’re gorgeous; Carlos is right.” You turned to look straight into the eyes of the famed heartthrob; Charles Leclerc. A smirk was plastered on his face. You couldn’t focus with the two guys smooth-talking you. The amount of attention that was put into you was unreal. Sure, you got a lot of that stuff whenever you raced, but it was nothing like this.

“I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for,” you said and finished your drink. The bartender immediately fixed you another one.

“I think you should come to more races whenever you can,” Carlos amused the idea and slung an arm around you.

“We’ll see,” you replied and downed yet another drink.

Present

“—And she’s done it again! She’s once again, champion of the world!” The crowd went wild. Many were in favour of you, as you were the only woman in the lineup. You were a four-time world champion. You could only hope Charles or Carlos had won the last race. You wouldn’t know until you were done, as it happened at the same time.

“How do you feel about your victory here today?” An interviewer quickly rushed up and asked. You’d done enough PR training to give a satisfactory answer,

“I mean, I feel amazing! The team, we pushed for it, and we got it, you know? I just want to thank my father and my wonderful team for this opportunity.” The interviewer thanked you and let you move on with your celebration.

You tried to get to your hotel as fast as possible so that you could see who’d won.

It took a while, but once you’d kicked your shoes off and sat at the kitchen island, you pulled up your Instagram to check out the standings.

“Damn… looks like Red Bull didn’t just win the MotoGP…” you sighed. Max had taken the championship yet again. You were proud of him, as a fellow Red Bull driver, but your heart ached for your Ferrari friends. At that moment, you decided to call Charles. Carlos rarely picked up his phone, and you knew Charles always would.

“Hey, I saw Max won… again,” you prefaced.

“Yeah, I know. It sucks, but what can you do? What a nice way to start a phone conversation!” You could tell he tried to seem upbeat and sarcastic after the loss, but it wasn’t sticking very well to the wall.

“Look, how about you and Carlos come visit me back in Brighton? I could show you around…” You suggested. There was some hesitation before you heard a voice in the background. It sounded like the phone was put down for a moment and you heard two people conversing. You assumed it was an engineer or something.

“I just talked to Carlos, he said he was free. We can talk more about it later.” He ended the call abruptly after, leaving you to get home and start planning.

Upon walking through your front door, you looked around your flat. Articles of clothing were strung around everywhere. It had been some time since you actually spent time at your own place. Your lifestyle was pretty much dependent on hotels and room service.

After spending some time cleaning, you noticed you'd gotten a text from Carlos. He asked if he and Charles were good to show up in two weeks' time. You replied with a simple ‘yeah’. You plopped yourself down on your leather sofa and started into the ceiling. You had a weird feeling in your chest. You couldn't quite put words on it. Texting and talking to Carlos made your heart pound faster. You'd known him for a while, and had felt things for him before, but never had you ever felt like your heart was being squeezed like a freshly pressed orange. You let your mind wander, and couldn't help but wonder if you had some repressed feelings for him. Carlos? No way. He's just a friend… Right? No matter how much you tried to rationalize your feelings, they didn't make sense. The more you thought about it, the faster your heart danced and generated butterflies swarming around in your stomach. You knew he'd been on your mind before, but never did those thoughts come on as strong as they were now. You'd always been able to make yourself busy, but now you couldn't. You were left to soak in it.

You decided to go out with one of your closest friends, Mia. There was nothing some drinking and dancing couldn't fix. Forgetting about the two drivers was all you needed for the night, even if it meant you'd puke your guts out the next morning.

“Are you kidding? A little crush? That's nothing. I don't even get why you're so worked up about that,” chuckled Mia and took a sip of her margarita.

“Fuck off, Mia, you've slept with half of Brighton at this point,” you rolled your eyes. She sighed and ordered you another drink.

“You should hook up with someone. We should definitely find you a good fuck.” She pulled out her phone to check what time it was, realizing the night was more than young. You had plenty of time to find the perfect guy to take home.

“I'm not you, I think I'll pass.” You could only imagine how awkward the sex would be. Being drunk would only make it harder to keep from screaming someone else's—

“Shut up. Two o'clock. Those two brunettes with those expensive watches. Ow, that's a steal for sure.” You didn't even bother looking their way. You chugged the rest of your drink and asked for another. The bartender was having a hard time deciding whether or not you were too wasted, but ultimately just gave you another round.

“Okay fine, you don't have to sleep with them… But you have to see them. They're everything I look for in a guy. Seriously.” You picked up your heavy head and turned in the direction she mentioned. What… The… Fuck? You were too far gone. Way too drunk, right? You were hallucinating. You saw the two people you were trying to keep out of your mind. They were standing in a corner, both holding a champagne flute.

“I swear I've had way too much to drink, Mia.” You shook your head and groaned, leaning into her neck.

“Hey, don't slouch. I'll just take you home, ‘kay? Jesus, and your dress. Tell me why you wore a long sleeve, please? You're sweating like a 30P hooker.” She helped you down from the barstool and the two of you started making your way to the exit.

Until you were stopped by none other than Carlos and Charles. Ugh. Your brain was mush and you didn't have the energy to think straight either.

“Woah, Horner. Is that you? What a coincidence,” Said Carlos.

“Not really. This bar is kind of exclusive— Um… You know her?” Mia held you tightly behind her.

“Oh, yeah we do. Do you need us to help?” Mia glanced at your wiped-out face and tried to ignore her inner monologue telling her to go back in and find someone to rock her world.

“Ummm… I'll tell you her address and door code, could you guys get her home safe?” She felt incredibly gutted, handing you over to the two handsome strangers. However, since they knew your last name— she figured they really did know you.

“Sure, we can do that. Have a great night,” Charles smiled and helped get you slumped over his shoulder instead of Mia’s. Your friend fixed her ponytail and kissed your forehead before heading back to the bar.

There you were. Left with the two Ferrari drivers, having to pull over a cab. You were far too wasted to realize what was going on, but you noticed the two men sitting on either side of you. Your heart felt fuzzy all over again, knowing Carlos was right next to you. It was the same feeling you'd desperately tried to escape a couple of hours ago.

“Why me… Why does the world hate me like this,” you slurred some of the words together, but you were coherent enough to understand.

“You should probably wait until we're home to go on a rant…” Charles suggested. You groaned and let your head fall onto his lap. You quickly dozed off from there…

What you didn't know was that Charles and Carlos had been feuding for a while. Even costing some wins in their races. They'd both been completely and irreversibly head over heels for you. They still were. It wasn't like their friendship was lost, but there was a slight tension whenever they were alone.

You'd been completely oblivious to it, but it started after you began attending more of their races. Carlos had made it a habit to stalk your Instagram page and Charles kept himself updated as well. The two of them tried to do whatever they could to impress you, but seeing as you never picked up on the cues; their attempts at flattery died down. You were always too consumed with work and family issues to ever notice how they were chasing you for your attention. It only got worse after the two of them realized they both liked you. It didn't matter though, because you still saw everything as friendly gestures. You'd never been in a real relationship. The only sort of intimacy you'd experienced was from overly flirtatious men who tried to get in your pants at parties or when you went drinking with friends.

After a few months went by of aimlessly trying to win you over, Carlos tried to get over you. He did whatever he could to ignore your texts and phone calls. Charles never seemed to back down though. He kept making himself look better than Carlos. It was around the same time you started feeling funny whenever you were around the Spaniard. You buried the feeling, convincing yourself that it was nothing. It was easy. You scheduled meetings and interviews on weekends you didn't race and occupied yourself with training during the week.

Being a child of divorce had always been hard on you. You were a commitment-phobe. Your view on romance was skewed and you could only blame your father. You held a special place in your heart for him, but the way he treated your mother after she'd given birth to your sister was unforgivable. Your mother had been such a big part of his life, and he was able to cast her aside for a new woman. That's why casual hookups were your jam. No commitments and no broken hearts. It was a win-win.

Carlos knew about your problems. You'd talked about it briefly, but he listened to every little detail you shared. He knew how hard it had hit you. That was another reason he used to justify ignoring you. Back then, you only took it as him being busy, which made him feel less guilty for doing it, though he still felt like an asshole.

“Mate, I think we should let her decide for herself. We shouldn't keep fighting like this. I mean how did we go from giving each other a helping hand on the grid— to threatening each other?” Charles whispered somewhat aggressively.

“I don't know, Charles. You're the one who suggested we fly out here immediately after we finished our race. Why wouldn't I fight for her?” Carlos shot back.

“Maybe because there's a chance she likes me and not you?” The whispering started getting louder, but you were out cold. They didn't really have anything to worry about.

“Let's just wait for her to wake up, okay? I don't want to argue with you right now. We'll wake her.” Carlos was definitely the more civil of the two, but he did have an aggressive edge when he needed to.

The morning came too soon, and you woke up with no memory of the night before. Your head felt like it was being crushed by a tank. You generally felt like you'd just been hit by a freight train. The sun made matters worse, blinding you and increasing the headache you already felt enough of. You decided to drag yourself to your kitchen to make yourself a hangover cure. It consisted of two raw eggs. You hated everything about it, but it had worked wonders in the past.

“Good morning.” You almost choked on your eggs as a voice came from behind you. Upon turning around, you were met with the gentle face of Carlos. He looked as if he had just got out of bed as well.

“Shit, don't scare me like that. What are you doing here? What's going on? How are you even here right now?” You felt like your line of questioning was leaning on the calmer side, but it was to keep the contents of your stomach down.

“We came here yesterday, actually. We were at the same bar as you. You were really drunk, so we took you home. Your friend gave us the address.” You couldn't help but groan. This caused Charles to make an appearance as well.

“Great…” you managed to hear Carlos mumble.

“Morning Horner,” Charles added a wink to his greeting. Which, in their own little world, meant that he'd one-upped Carlos.

“I'm sorry, I really can't make sense of this right now… Could you guys give me some time to process what's going on?” You sighed and went to your bedroom which connected to your closet. You pulled out whatever you could find and threw it on— returning to the kitchen where the two Ferrari drivers were sitting by the island.

“Okay, explain.” You sat across from them.

“I'm sure Charles would like to explain,” Carlos took a jab at the Monégasque.

“Well, we figured we'd just fly in directly after the race… So we did,” Charles started.

“I think we should cut to the chase. Both of us are… Um… Interested in you.” You liked the straightforward answer but weren't quite sure what Carlos meant by it.

“Ever since I met you, mon chéri, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. Carlos apparently feels the same way. I just… I really like you.” It took a few seconds to sink in before you were able to give a proper response.

“Wait… What? You…” You pointed at Charles,

“—And you?! both?!” You finished off by pointing at Carlos and then at both.

“Charles… Can you leave me and Carlos for a moment?” You asked and were immediately met with a look of shock from Charles. His face melted into something more melancholic shortly after, but he went off to another room.

There you were. There Carlos was. His morning hair and sweet face. Your nausea was replaced by a tingling feeling. You felt it travel down your spine and to all your nerve endings. The amount of blood pumping through your veins was alarming. You could feel it in your throat. Was the room getting hotter?

“So… Charles said you have feelings for me,” you started. Your eyes met his, as he tried to think of what to say. He couldn't be sure whether or not you felt the same way, but a strike of confidence was added when you asked Charles to leave.

“I do. It has been a long time since I felt this way about anyone. You know the day I first saw you? I couldn't believe it when I saw your eyes after you got the helmet off. It looked like my whole life was reflected in them. You're beautiful. More than that. I can't even find the right words. I know Charles is more charming and open—” You cut him off. You couldn't help it. You had to.

“I love Charles. I love him, but not in the way I think he wants me to. He's sweet and you're right; he's charming, but you're you. As much as it pains me to hurt him, his feelings for me are one-sided, Carlos. I've liked you for a while now. I was just too blinded by work and not wanting to commit. I feel like an idiot around you…” Finally getting those words off your chest put you at ease. Even more so was the fact that Carlos shared the feelings.

“I would love to take you out sometime… If you know any good spots here.”

“Maybe we should settle things with Charles first, but I would love to.” You chuckled and pulled his face in for a kiss on the cheek.

“Can I kiss you? Like actually kiss—” You were starting to enjoy cutting him off, and the perfect way to do it this time was exactly what he wanted; a sweet kiss.

“Wow, I'm lucky.” He whispered.

“That you are,” you smiled and pulled him in for another, knowing you'd have to break the news to Charles somehow.

(Maybe to be continued...)

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻...

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

©vettelsdarling

𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗽𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆, 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺— 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻.

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awiola · 4 months

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Normal update, autumn??? XXIII

Okay, so I thought it would be a nice, winter quarterly update but turns out the last one was titled summer and I guess going by calendar, winter barely started so it's??? autumn??? I guess??? Last day of the year but autumn, sure, let's go with that. That being the case, I have no new year's pic for y'all cause I can't draw I was devving uhh, rly hard, let's say. Totally.

Anyway, the mushroom jam has ended and I planned to have a release update BUT THEN I DIDN'T FINISH THE GAME ON TIME YET AGAIN, who would've thought, so, like, there's nothing. I mean, something exists but yeah >_> I'll write a devlog when it finally looks presentable. Moving on...

Current game stuff

The spooktober game has been finished, kinda - The enmity of dead things. It, well, it works and it contains the full script and everything but lacks both art and music cause I couldn't finish it on time laziness goes brrr. Then I wanted a break and worked on other games and kinda left it like that... So that's the first item on my "Finally finish it in 2024, you stupid fuck" list. All in all it wasn't a total failure and I had fun for the most part. Committing to my bad decisions [look at the textbox] is actually the main cause the game wasn't finished on time... You live and don't learn.

The failure of the year... Or quarter at least - Mushroom game. Despite being technically published to add it to the jam, it's so unfinished I won't even link it here. And it's all my fault cause I was being lazy and, as usual, forgot I can't actually program. Yeah...

Helped with Cool Days. There's really not much of my work there, I honestly considered making a new category for games I kinda helped with but tbh the amount of work actually finished was close to zero but hey, it's still more than nothing so Check it out, it has cool graphics.

The ace teens game got shelved/postponed and it's not my fault this time but instead we're working on a fantasy kinda thing for Ace jam [and maybe also Zack jam while we're at it but that might've been said in jest]. Fortunately it's small enough I don't expect any delays. I can say it involves a golem who isn't a humanoid (灬˘╰╯˘灬)♥｡･ﾟ

Now for the big thing.

Fanfares, please.

🎉🎉🎉

IMPOSTOR SYNDROME - is a game for winter jam which also happens to be a demo cause we ran out of time but! - it will be finished soon-ish. I'll share more details in the release devlog so if the link to the game works already, that means the page's up and so is all the info. If it doesn't work, check again in a few hours but I'm assuming most people who actually read all that will do so post winter jam anyway.

Genre wise it's an otome chat sim comedy that's extremely self indulged and I'm not ashamed of that. Gotta make games for yourself and all that. Though, again, my own conribution to the development process remains minimal. I'm truly becoming the idea guy.

The "Finally finish it in 2024, you stupid fuck" list aka the stuff that should've been finished already but isn't

Umm, yeah, everything. Or, to be more specific, Mushroom game and Enmity take priority here but all the other games that needed some quality of life adjustments like making the web build work on mobile etc are also included [which is kinda funny cause a lot of them could be corrected in like an hour if I actually sat and did just that].

It's been more than three years since I released Argousze and yes, you gessed it, it's also unfinished. Which is extra funny in a pathetic way cause it was supposed to be a low effort game with, like, 2k words of wordcount. To be fair I kinda dropped it cause I couldn't design my aliens but maybe I'll actually get a good idea for once and manage to release it on its fourth anniversary. That'd be nice.

Other than that, well... That's more of a resolution than anything but I should stop constantly joining new teams and all... And either take a proper dev break or work on ye olde projects waiting for me since the beginning of HS. I'll become older than my oldest LI before I finish them at this point lol

Pariiish noootiiiceees

This year we're gonna have two new jams instead of one. Stuff happened and yeah. No links just yet cause not only are the pages not finished but there's also no planned date/duration beyond 'sometime in the later part of the year'.

The first jam is Tentacle jam which, I'm pretty sure, would bring us eroges. This was not my intention and all kind of sfw tentacles are allowed but tbh as long as there's a proper story, even a nukige would pass. Basically the rules remain like in all the previous jams I hosted.

The second jam is Insect [adjacent] jam which actually accepts all kinds of arthropods but it started as just insect jam and I wanted to keep the name. So yeah. Obviously more detailed rules of what's allowed would be written on the page when it's up properly and not in a half dead state like right now.

Incidentally, whatever the date ends up being, both of these jams would be hosted at the same time so if you wanted to make a story taking place underwater or something, you could submit it to both of these jams. Neat, right?

That's it for this year.

Over.

#devstuff #vndev #awi update

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bg-sparrow · 1 year

Note

for the fanfic writer ask - 6, 21, 28, 33, 44! :)

Yay, @daryfromthefuture gave me some more Fanfic Writer Asks! I have something to do before making a bill calendar today! Thank you!! 😁

6. If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

Mm, I'll stick to my AO3 account for this (because there are numerous at FFNet lol). I'm so proud of everything I've written because it was a necessary stepping stone to where I am today, but if there's one I'd delete off AO3 right now, it'd probably be Survival is Insufficient. The idea was really off-the-cuff and unplanned, and I think I could do better by reworking it into something different or larger in scale.

21. Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

Construction-wise, I really like Dan Brown (of the Robert Langdon series). I know he's divisive, but I love his utilization of short chapters to keep things fast-paced, and he's good at ending a chapter on a cliffhanger that makes me have to read the next chapter. I love that I don't find myself wondering, "when will this chapter end??" because of those two things. Ted Elliot and Terry Rossio are two screenwriters that I adore. I love their storytelling, and I didn't even realize they were responsible for some of my favorite films until ten years ago — Aladdin, Pirates of the Caribbean, National Treasure. I listened to their writers' commentary on the first Pirates movie right when I was getting serious about writing as a teenager, and their word became gospel (or, at least, guidelines 😉). And if Vince Gilligan and Taika Waititi could just SHARE some of their secrets with me, that'd be great.

28. What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction?

It is thankless. It is SO thankless. I still struggle to remember that sometimes. Not everyone who reads is going to comment or kudos or bookmark, even if they're your biggest fan. You'll never know, and you just have to do it for yourself. Maybe you DO write something that takes your fandom by storm, and that's awesome! Stay humble. Let your work speak for itself. Don't say you suck at summaries, don't beg for reviews, don't say you won't update until you get X number of reviews… let your work be what compels readers to comment, kudos, and bookmark, not your panhandling and need for big stats. It doesn't work that way. If you're not enjoying it, you're doing it wrong.

33. What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

When you write for a well-loved, small, protected fandom like Back to the Future and introduce an OC, you're rocking the boat. And I knew I was, but I wanted to try it and see how successfully I could pull it off. To my surprise, the ultimate compliment has been given to me by many: my OC blended seamlessly into canon, stood on her own, and actually added to the story. "I forgot she wasn't in the films" was probably the biggest compliment I've ever received. That was the "I did it, and I've got to keep living up to the expectations" moment.

44. What is the last line you wrote?

The last line I wrote would have been in my notebook last night while making notes for Once Upon a Time in the East. And it was: "You should have stayed dead."

Thanks so much for indulging me! I had lots of fun answering these, so feel free to drop more numbers in my inbox if the mood strikes! 😎

#fanfic writer ask #answered asks #ask game

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bleppyboy · 2 years

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mermay anon: THAT IS VERY GOOD WORLDBUILDING HOLY HECK so, questions: 1) do you guys have a story going on/are you writing a thing in this universe or is it hypothetical worldbuilding fun? and 2) what is your favourite fact (or several facts!) that Wires didn't get to add to the post? :D

I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKE IT WE HAD A HELLUVA LOT OF FUN MAKING IT ALL :D

Okay so 1) We do technically have a story going on, and it basically started off as an AU for our main OCs (to go with the 50-odd other AUs we've got of them). We started with just wanting to muck about with mer nonsense, and then we wound up spending like... 5 times as much time on the worldbuilding than any actual plot or anything. Zero regrets.

(In short though, the plot is basically 'human falls off a boat in a storm, gets rescued by mer who decides to keep him around underwater for a while, Shenanigans Ensue, Romance Ensues, Magic Bullshittery Ensues, the mer gets temporarily turned human so now the human gets to show him around his world in exchange', and then after that it kinda peters out because I don't think we've ever 'finished' an AU in our lives)

And 2) My favourite fact is that I spent way too many hours trying to look up shark mating/breeding behaviours and anatomy and such trying to figure out how things would work for our mer, because while handwaving things with 'eh, it's magic' is fun, complicated and quasi-realistic worldbuilding is more fun. Anyway, half of what I discovered while researching is 'we just don't fucking know, hell, we only found out how great whites breed like three years ago, what more do you want from us?'

My other favourite fact is that we actually talked about a lot more detail about the kissing scars thing than Wires put into their post. To the point that you can probably take a look at a mer's lips/face (and sometimes neck) and get some real good insight into that mer's sexual history and preferences, because like...

Very few or mostly tiny scars? On a younger mer, this means they're likely pretty inexperienced. On a slightly older mer, it could mean that they're still inexperienced, in which case there's potentially something up with them that'd mean they're not a good breeding partner; or alternatively they're just a mer who is very cautious in regards to personal injury, which can be good or bad depending on your taste.

An average-ish number of scars scattered about in a variety of positions and a variety of sizes? This mer has a decent chunk of experience with a number of other mer, without letting things get overly rough or dangerous. Usually highly desirable, if occasionally a bit generic. Think sexy calendar pin-up models.

An average-ish to smaller number of scars, but mostly in the same/similar positions and of pretty regular sizes? This mer has experience, but most likely just with a very small pool of partners, or even just a single partner. Loyal, consistent, stable, and the equivalent of a big neon sign above their head saying 'TAKEN', even if monogamous relationships are not expected of mer.

Lots of regular-sized scars? This mer fucks. Probably more than is necessarily safe, unless they're older and big enough that predators aren't really a worry and their immune system has plenty of practice. Fresh wounds, however small tend to invite either sharks or disease or both, but also who doesn't love a mer that lives on the edge?

Real big scars, not necessarily limited to around their lips? Either this mer has a thing for lionfish (I couldn't come up with a better cougar joke, okay?) or whoever they're fucking doesn't give a shit about this mer's wellbeing. Or they do give a shit, they just like causing damage, and this mer doesn't kick up much of a fuss about it.

Scars are mostly old and faded? This mer hasn't had a date in a while.

Scars have healed poorly? This mer doesn't take as much care of themselves as they should.

Scars on other parts of the body, especially the tail? Kinky.

No scars at all despite being well into adulthood? Do Not Trust.

...and like twenty billion other variations on this theme.

And of course these are all just generalisations, and individual mer across different oceans no doubt have their own culture around scars and sex and all of that, and there's probably some communities that practice scarification as a beauty routine, and others that think kissing is entirely unnecessary for sex, and so on and so on. But we put a lot of thought into this, so thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to ramble on it all! This was good and fun and I always welcome more questions

#blep blabs #mer #this wound up longer than expected but i refuse to put it under a cut #woe! mer lore be upon ye

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crystalelemental · 3 years

Note

I know it's way too early for this kind of speculation, but what do you think FE17 will be? the Genealogy remake would be interesting, but that'd possibly damn FE18 into a Thracia remake, much like Shadow Dragon/New Mystery. unless they decide to make it into 1 game, which doesn't sound probable to me. maybe they'll make a new story, with less, uh, questionable morals to keep the new 3H fans interested into the franchise? will they keep the calendar, the instruction stuff, or go back to the laid back way of Awakening/Fates/Echoes? you don't have to give a long answer if you don't want, I'm just musing a bit here

“You don’t have to give a long answer,” as if that’s ever stopped me.

What do I think it will be? I have no idea. But given its popularity, they could be considering it like a Tellius situation, with a prequel game. I don't think they can go sequel (more on that in the other response), but prequel with Seiros as the focus, going from the Red Canyon Massacre to the end of the War of Heroes? Sign me up. I would love more on that. And I adore games that focus on side stories (Thracia, Blazing Blade), so I'm super on board for a fleshed-out side story about that period in Fodlan.

I can't say what they'd try to do with gameplay, but I do think they'd keep a sort of "home base" kinda thing at a minimum. The instruction aspect of Three Houses was very specific to that game, and truthfully, I don't know if it will maintain. Not to be how I am constantly, but I hope it doesn't. I really feel like the monastery exploration and having to fine-tune instruction for students was more tedious than anything, and ultimately didn't add much to the gameplay experience. I also feel like the calendar was kind of a bad call too. A lot of events, as they're laid out, feel like they should be happening back to back. But because of the calendar focus, you have situations where it implies you traveled far off to engage in a big battle, but then just walked back to the monastery for a whole month before marching out the same direction. I don't think it blends events together all that nicely. Frankly I think Fates' decision to have a pocket dimension where you can take care of your bullshit was a better way to hand-waive the question of how you're able to backpedal and stock up in the midst of a campaign.

That said, any non-remake game, and possibly even the remake game, will take inspiration from Three Houses in the same way Fates and Echoes did from Awakening. The massive success of Three Houses is guaranteed to be an anomaly to them. They still don't know why Awakening worked, I doubt they'll know why this one worked. So I anticipate a lot of character tropes and storytelling angles will be reused in future games. They'll try to mess with perspective and the idea of hidden history muddying the morality of things for sure. I don't think there's any benefit for them to go back to more clear-cut morality. Even if there's a lot of fan argument about it (Edelgard and Dimitri fans), that's never a bad thing. That's still attention being drawn to your game. That's still discussion around it. No press is bad press, and this game is still more popular than the rest of the series ever had been. So they'll keep characters like Lysithea, and Bernadetta, and have that attempt at a complex plot, and a bunch of mysteries that never get answered, and oh god every MU is going to be like Byleth now oh god oh fuck.

But personally, I want the next game to be a Genealogy remake. I have issues with Genealogy as a whole, both gameplay and story-wise, and a remake could salvage at least some of that. Support conversations definitely could, and a changing of certain story elements would be nice, although Fallen Julia's already in FEH so like...there goes my greatest hope.

That said, I don't really want them to do too much? Like, Echoes added a few characters, and while those are some of the best in the game, a lot of that I feel like was to add any sort of significance to Alm's journey beyond the end goal. Alm's route would be boring as all hell without Berkut, so his inclusion was a massive benefit to the game. But I can't think of a situation where my qualms with Genealogy is "This just isn't engaging enough, we don't have enough people." Genealogy almost has too many characters. If anything their bigger problem is that characters and themes they set up are never utilized. So it's more about reworking the narrative a bit rather than needing to include things to make a blander game stand out, you know?

I definitely don't think they'd combine Genealogy and Thracia. I mean they could, but I don't think it's a good idea. Genealogy, again, has too many characters already. Combining the games leads to the question of where the hell Leif's army is, and that's adding like 50 characters to the roster. Since you deploy every unit you have in Genealogy, that's...way too much. They'd have to completely rebalance the game. Not to mention Thracia doesn't play at all like Genealogy, and is way too long to be a brief side-story or DLC exclusive. There's just no effective way to integrate the two. I think it would be better to just make the game after that the Thracia remake, which...honestly is the best possible outcome as far as I'm concerned.

Binding Blade may not have come to the west, but people know Roy, and this series started over here with Blazing Blade. We know a lot of Binding Blade information, by virtue of dedicated fans being upset the logical continuation of their starting point never got translated. Comparatively, Genealogy and Thracia are pretty damn isolated, and it shows in their CYL placements. They're not well known games at all, and gameplay-wise, they're really awkward and (in my humble opinion), not actually fun to play at all. A remake is ideal for those games, because it gives them a chance to gain more attention and popularity in the general public's eyes. Which is good! Genealogy does have a worthwhile story to tell despite my gripes about its problems, and I honest to god thing Thracia's one of the best stories in the series, with one of the best protagonists in the series. These games deserve more recognition than they get, and they're not gonna get it until they get remade to be more accessible.

It also dawns on me that the "less questionable morals" may have been about Genealogy's whole incest thing. Listen, I get it, but they can't take it out. I don't say this lightly, but that is like...the central point of Genealogy. The awakening of Loptous is a matter of converging its bloodline, which had only one surviving member. You really cannot work around this one, without making things either too confusing or too stupid. If they really felt the need for that, they might back off of the remake entirely, which would be to their detriment. But considering the Byleth/Rhea situation, I don't think they'll have much trouble. And besides, it's pretty clear that an act of incest was the catalyst for almost destroying the continent, so I think it's safe to say the game doesn't agree with the practice.

#zeldafanmaria #fire emblem

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autumnhobbit · 7 years

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I rlly want to read something about Damian and Tim when Damian is like 18! That'd be a cool dynamic

The kitchen was quiet when Tim stepped in through the garage door at 6:30 in the morning. He supposed that wasn’t totally unexpected; Alfred was probably busy, what with the chaos of the last few days’ events. However, Tim had an important objective, so he opted to skip any other menial, unnecessary tasks, and headed for the stairs.

He passed his old bedroom, Jason’s room, Dick’s room. The next door was unsurprisingly shut. He didn’t bother knocking; he figured they were past that. He opened the door and leaned his head in. “Dames?”

A shuffle of sheets, as Titus climbed to his feet with a huff and carefully jumped down, ambling over to lick at Tim’s hand. And finally, a groan from the blanket-covered lump on the bed, only the tips of messy black hair showing above the comforter.

Tim stepped in and shut the door behind him, folding his arms across his chest. “I know you don’t want to get up and do anything today, but I’m not gonna leave you much choice.”

“Nothing you say will persuade me to leave this bed, Drake,” Damian deadpanned, low voice rough with sleep.

“I already called Marissa and told her you’d be there by seven,” Tim said easily.

A pause. Then Damian threw the covers back, his face vaguely irritated but submissive. He stroked Alfred’s back as he sat up, murmuring soothingly in Arabic to him, and then swung his legs off the side of the bed, dropping down onto them and slouching off, the picture of exhausted adolescence. It would have been funny if it weren’t somehow so sad at the same time.

Tim shook his head, tugging over Damian’s chair to sit and wait for him. While the shower ran, he glanced around the room. It looked a little more personal now than it had; a rack full of Damian’s collection of exotic weapons, a zoo animals calendar, scale models of the planets hanging in scale formation from the high ceiling of one corner of the room, a telescope, a poster from a concert Dick had taken him to a few years ago. It looked a little more like a kid’s room now, and a little less like a barrack, which was good. Though he could still see the precision in how everything was kept—bunched up clothes and clutter were conspicuously absent from the area—it was nice to see at least some amount of stability and comfort in Damian’s life as well as his room.

The door opened with a half-bang, and Damian wandered out of the bathroom, dressed but with his hair flopping down almost to his nose. Tim tried to stifle a laugh as he fumbled around looking for his comb, which was, of course, on the dresser Tim was sitting beside. He grabbed it and stepped over to Damian, setting to work combing it up. “Have you considered getting a haircut anytime soon?” He asked jokingly.

“Tt.” Damian heaved a sigh, which sent some of the aforementioned long bangs fluffing up in the air, only to flop back down onto his nose. “It’s not long enough yet to warrant it.”

Tim let the matter drop. It was the kid’s hair; he could do whatever he pleased with it. Besides, he was no one to judge; his own hair wasn’t shoulder-length, but it wasn’t short, either. He finally had Damian’s hair half-tamed into something resembling its usual spiked style. With a final pat, to tamp the long strands down—which was a little difficult, considering how high he had to reach to do so, now—Tim stepped back, handing Damian the comb. He took it and tucked it into the pocket of his jeans, and then leaned over and yanked his sneakers from their spot beside the bed. Tim checked his watch quickly, just to make sure–they were still on time. Damian finally straightened, glancing at Tim expectantly.

“Alrighty, then. Off we go.” Tim turned towards the door, and Damian trailed after him, shutting the door after making sure Titus and Alfred were out of the room.

“Will…” Damian’s voice cracked a bit oddly—and while that was a normal occurrence lately, somehow Tim knew it wasn’t a fluke—“Will it be alright? Here? While we’re–”

“It’s fine. Alfred says he’s stable, just resting, and he’ll call us if anything comes up. And if he does call us, I’ll call Superman if need be. Or Jon,” Tim said, trying to be as firm as possible while still leaving room for Damian to really object if he wanted to.

Damian said nothing, so Tim kept going.

There was no sign of Alfred in the kitchen when they went through—except, of course, for a tray of freshly-baked blackberry muffins, still warm and steaming, and a travel cup full of fresh-squeezed orange juice, and one of coffee. Damian silently picked up the note beside the tray, read it to himself, then nodded mutely and carefully folded it, tucking it into his pocket. He snatched a nearby paper bag and filled it with half the muffins, and then grabbed another bag that had his name on it. Tim grabbed his coffee as quickly as possible, and drank a swallow, savoring the bitter aroma. He hadn’t had a chance to get his before he’d left the house this morning.

With everything thus packed and grabbed, they headed out the garage to where Tim’s Lincoln was waiting. Damian climbed into the passenger seat of his own volition, so Tim got into the driver’s side and set his coffee in the cup holder, starting the car in silence and turning to carefully back up.

They were half-way down the driveway when he glanced at Damian, who was silently eating a muffin, occasionally sipping at his orange juice. If he had been five years younger, he would have thought Damian looked sullen—but times had changed, and he knew better now. “Do you…” he ventured. “Want to listen to something? Or—?”

Damian shook his head silently.

“Okay.” Tim turned back to the road. After a moment of driving—they had reached the gate—he said quietly, “Steph would have come, but you know how mornings have been lately. She sends her love.”

“Tt.” Damian hummed, examining another muffin. “It’s alright,” he said quietly, not meeting Tim’s eyes. “I did not expect that of her.”

Tim nodded quietly. The words were blunt, but Damian still had trouble finding words sometimes when it came to being genuine. He knew the boy meant no harm.

“Besides…” Damian hummed, not looking up. “You are sufficient.”

Tim stifled a smile. He turned back to the road, and the rest of the drive passed in companionable silence.

They ran into a bit of traffic on the freeway, but still managed to pull into the parking lot at the animal shelter at 6:47. They got out in silence, and Tim locked the car. Damian held tight to his paper bags. Tim hoped fervently that Marissa would honor his request to not mention the elephant in the room, or else he might truly upset Damian.

But thankfully, when they went in the back door, Marissa was waiting with her usual smile, flanked by Ava and Max, a couple of the high-school volunteers.

“Morning, Damian,” she said warmly. “How are you?”

“Acceptable, thank you,” Damian said, a bit awkwardly, as he always was when they got started. He brandished one of his bags. “Pennyworth sent treats.”

“That grandfather of yours must be quite a man,” Marissa said, turning to lead them inside. “I hope to meet him one day.”

“Perhaps I will try to arrange something this summer,” Damian said, sounding a bit excited at the prospect.

“I would love that, Damian, thank you.” Marissa said. She buzzed them into the backroom. “Alright, so we have a few new arrivals. Someone dumped a Siamese in a street in the south side; he has a broken paw. We’ve set it and it should heal up in a month or two. Very sweet temperament, it’s a shame. A girl dropped off a box of pitbull-mix puppies; I assume they were the result of a dogfighting champ but weren’t healthy enough to be worth training. And, oddly enough, someone brought a parrot that recites lines from Gilligan’s Island. That’s been fun.” She flashed a dry smile at Tim and Damian. Tim chuckled. Damian shrugged, heading into the storeroom to haul out the bags of feed.

The next three hours flew by as they fed, watered, and groomed and bathed the animals, as well as cleaning out the cages. Damian was comfortable with this—he’d been doing it for several months, now—but Tim was a little bit less competent at it. At least he’d worn somewhat casual clothes; a polo and khakis. Though he was looking forward to showering at the end of the day.

At 11:00, when the work was nearly finished and Marissa and Ava had gone to man the front desk, Tim meandered over to where Damian was huddled in front of one of the cages, lightly stroking his long fingers through a tabby kitten’s fur. “You are a most threatening specimen,” Damian spoke lowly and seriously as the kitten lightly gnawed on his fingertips. “Likely descended from the royal cats that roam the jungles of Argentina and Siberia. My mother once had one like you. He was nowhere near as kind, however. Keep that friendly spirit, and you will go far in here.” He stopped talking and glanced up when Tim approached.

“I don’t think Alfred would appreciate a stray,” Tim said wryly.

“Tt.” Damian lightly stroked the kitten’s back once more. “His namesake did.” He carefully scooped the cat into a delicate ball, cupped in his palm, and slowly stood up, opening the cage door. “If he does not get adopted, I may well return for him.” He shut the door and locked it, reaching a fingertip in between the bars for one last stroke.

“Don’t know if you’re hungry,” Tim said. “I made sure Ameer’s was open.”

“Tt.” Damian dusted his hands off. “I would not object to lunch. I was not planning on doing much today, anyway.”

“Alright then,” Tim said, trying to ignore the slight pang at Damian’s flippant admittance.

They said goodbye to Marissa and Ava on the way out, leaving the bag of treats as well as the leftover muffins. They loaded back into the car, and Damian put his earbuds in for the short drive over to the restaurant.

Tim could tell that Damian was suspicious as they got out and Tim locked it, but he didn’t voice any irritation, so Tim followed him as he pushed open the door and immediately spotted the table full of people, who immediately waved at him, with various warm greetings of “Here’s the man!” and “Damian!”

Damian rolled his eyes, and walked straight for Steph, who was beaming up at him. He ducked down, and hugged her very gently. “You didn’t have to come out here, Brown.”

“And miss this milestone? You only get one of those, you know.” She kissed the top of Damian’s head, and released him. “Besides, I feel better in the afternoons.”

“Grayson,” Damian acknowledged.

Dick smiled warmly. “How are you, kiddo?”

“Just as fine as I was when I last saw you three days ago,” Damian said dryly, but he allowed himself to be tugged into an enthusiastic hug, and even leaned into it. Babs gave him a smile and a little wave, but Damian barely had time to nod before Cass had tugged him into an even more tight hug. “Baby brother is big,” she said, reaching her arm almost to its maximum length to pet his hair. “Not fair.”

“I have been informed that this is how it works,” Damian choked, still sounding exasperated. Cass finally released him, and Damian immediately scrubbed at his hair to tamp it back into its usual style. He glanced once at Jason, and immediately dropped his gaze. “Todd,” he said quietly.

“Brat,” Jason said easily, swishing his glass and running his mismatched fingertips along the rim of the cup. The scar that ran down his cheek was healed, but still cut his features in a decidedly different way than they had been when he was younger. “Bet you’re glad to have sprouted all the way.”

Damian shrugged. Tim ordered his root beer for him rather than interrupt the conversation, waiting with baited breath.

“Pretty sure we’ve already covered this ground, tater tot, but this,” Jason gestured to his cheek, and his hand, “was not remotely your fault. And besides, chicks dig scars. Ask Kara.” He smirked.

Damian shrugged, eyes downcast.

Jason scooted over beside him, and stuck a finger under his chin, tilting his face up. “Look. I’m fine. I am fine, I’m going to be fine. And even if I wasn’t—” his face grew hard, but not towards Damian, “—I’d do it again. Alright? And that’s not a bad thing. It comes with the whole sibling territory. You got it?”

Damian met his gaze for a moment, then nodded solemnly, though he still looked troubled. Jason slid his hand once to bop Damian’s nose, then dropped his hand to his lap again. “None of that broodiness. You may want to be like your dad someday, but it’s still too early for me.”

The others laughed. Damian managed a slight curve of the corner of his mouth.

The rest of lunch went smoothly, with everyone sharing memories of the ins-and-outs of the Manor, minus the suits. Damian even shared a few anecdotes of his own. The kitchen sent Damian a free Basbousa, which made him quite pleased. He shared a little bit of it with Steph, because she was eyeing it longingly and he tended towards fussing over proper nutrition in her condition, but declared the rest of it was his alone—though he left enough for everyone else to have a spoonful. Dick and Jason left a large tip.

Dick approached Tim as the others began to say their goodbyes and disperse. “What’ve you got up next on the agenda?” He asked quietly.

“Figured we’d head to the park. Jon’s schedule is free.”

“Do you need me to come by? For…after?” Dick asked.

Tim shrugged. “I don’t think we’ll need it…but I certainly don’t think he’ll complain about you having an unannounced sleepover.”

Dick grinned. “I’ll try and come tonight, then.” He glanced up as Damian walked by with Steph. “I guess I’m headed home,” Steph said, reaching for Tim’s hand. “You guys have fun on your hike.”

“Sure thing. Call me if you need anything.” Tim gave her a quick kiss on the lips, which Damian rolled his eyes at, but said nothing.

“Don’t you scoff,” Steph scolded warmly. “You’re a teenager now. Hormones are a thing, buddy.”

“Your escapades are made tolerable only by nieces and nephews,” Damian deadpanned. But he stroked a small, firm circle in her side. Tim was vaguely jealous. Steph only let Damian do that because she said he worried. Everyone else was forbidden because she was ticklish. But like he said, he was vaguely jealous. Mostly he just melted. He guessed marriage had a tendency to do that.

Once everyone was off on their own, Damian and Tim piled back into the car and drove a couple hours to the park. It was outside town, almost out into the countryside, but you could still see the city from the hills.

Tim fired off a text as they were getting their supplies out of the car, and by the time they were locking up, Jon was streaking down to land on his feet on the pavement beside them. “Dames!” He said happily, crossing the distance in two strides and hugging Damian.

“Um. Hello, Kent,” Damian said, awkwardly patting Jon’s back. Jon released him with a grin. “So. Do you expect me to hike, or can I—?”

“You may do whatever you please, Jonathan,” Damian sighed.

Jon laughed, then saluted cockily. “See you guys at the top, then!” With that, he launched into the air and flew off through the trees, only restraining himself from breaking the sound barrier due to decency.

“Tt. I could do that, once,” Damian muttered darkly, but took a swig of his water and hefted his bag up on his shoulder, heading up the trail. Tim followed, shaking his head.

It wound up taking them about two hours to climb the slope. They could have done it faster if they’d been hotfooting it, but they were taking their time. Damian stopped often to get out his camera and take a picture of a bird or flower or tree, and Tim did likewise. Occasionally, Jon would fly back down to them and hover overhead as they walked, and they chatted as they went.

Finally, they reached the top of the hill. The sun wouldn’t set for another few hours, but it was at a definite downward angle, lighting up the distant buildings with a sharp, intense glow. Damian snapped a few different pictures of that. Tim, meanwhile, took the opportunity to reapply 100+ spf sunscreen. He had to admit, that was one thing he did envy Damian for.

Jon went with them the rest of the way down the mountain. When they were packing up the car, he tapped Damian on the shoulder.

“Do you…want me to come over later tonight? I have to be home for supper, but I could come back. Only if you want me to, though.” He looked hesitant but ready to accept whatever answer he got.

“I…do not know, Jon,” Damian admitted with a sigh. “Can I text you after…after I’m home? Right now, I would not mind, but I don’t want to drag you all the way to Gotham to spend time with me if I will be too bitter to enjoy it.”

“I wouldn’t care. I’ve put up with you before,” Jon said obstinately. “But if you don’t feel like it, that’s fine. And if you do, I’ll come.”

“I will text you,” Damian promised. “Perhaps we can watch more of those cartoons you introduced me to last time.”

“That’d be fun.” Jon grinned. “Well, whether I see you later or not,” he hugged Damian again. “Have a great rest of the day, ‘kay? You deserve it.”

“Tt.” Damian rolled his eyes long-sufferingly at Tim, who shrugged. “Have a good evening too, Kent. Tell your parents I said hello.”

“I will!” With that, Jon flew off. He did break the sound barrier this time. Damian got his hands over his ears in time. Tim was just a little bit too late.

“I wish he wouldn’t do that,” Damian muttered. “Every time he does, conspiracy theory pages explode.”

Tim shrugged as he opened the trunk and tossed his bag in, wincing as his ears continued to ring. “He’s a teenager who can fly. I can’t say I blame him.”

They drove back to the Manor from the park, stopping once to get Damian a cherry slushy since he decided he was in the mood for it. The sun was beginning to set when they pulled back into the Manor.

Damian went upstairs immediately, and it wasn’t two minutes before the shower was running. Tim sighed, dropping into a chair in the kitchen and checking his phone. A text from Steph to let him know she got home okay, a text from Alfred about Bruce’s SATs, a text from Dick letting him know he’d be a bit late, but would come around nine.

Alfred came into the kitchen, and Tim glanced up. “Hey, Alfie.”

“Evening, Master Tim.” Alfred took the seat across from Tim, sitting down more quickly than Tim was used to.

“Everything alright?” Tim asked, concerned.

“It’s just….” Alfred sighed. “Master Bruce, sir. Not his health,” he quickly amended at the concern morphing to worry on Tim’s face, “It’s just…it’s hard. To see him upset. And he is, right now.”

“Ah.” Tim could imagine.

Damian wandered into the kitchen, in shorts and a t-shirt, his hair hopelessly flopped over his face again. He paused at the island. “Pennyworth,” he said quietly.

“My dear boy,” Alfred said, and just like that, Damian was across the room and buried in an almost desperate hug. “How was your day?” Alfred asked, into Damian’s hair—the boy was much taller than he, now, but whenever he hugged Alfred he lowered down some.

Damian chuffed a hoarse laugh. “Acceptable, Pennyworth.”

“Good.” Alfred let the boy pull back a bit, though he remained kneeling beside Alfred’s chair. Alfred cleared his throat, glancing down at Damian. “I believe that…your father would very much appreciate seeing you.”

Damian ducked his head in a half-nod, his bangs flopping. Even from across the table, Tim could see the emotions warring in his dark green eyes.

“I…am willing to wager that you would very much like to see him, too,” Alfred said softly, laying a gentle hand atop Damian’s head and threading through his hair. “Is that correct?”

Damian nodded slightly.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Tim offered. Damian nodded vigorously.

“There there, Master Damian,” Alfred said softly, as the boy gave a sudden, hoarse sob and scrubbed angrily at his eyes with his fist. “You’ll be alright. It’s alright.” He gently brushed Damian’s long bangs back from his eyes. Damian sniffled, scrubbing at his eyes with his fingers this time. Tim’s heart sank watching them, even though it was somehow a warm sinking.

Steph would have laughed if he’d said that out loud. Maybe he’d text it to her later.

Finally, Damian climbed up to his feet. “I’m ready,” he declared hoarsely, squaring his shoulders and balling his fists.

Tim pushed his chair back from the table and walked over to Damian. And then, on a sudden but certain impulse, he wrapped his arms around the younger boy and hugged him with a iron grip, arms locked tight around his broad shoulders, dusty, worn-out clothes against Damian’s clean ones and all. Damian startled at first, but then reciprocated, wrapping his own arms carefully around Tim and leaning down to press his forehead against Tim’s shoulder.

“You are such an overgrown little punk, and I am so damn proud of you,” Tim whispered, and he felt Damian’s chest heave with a breathless laugh. “The feeling is mutual,” he snarked back, only a bit unsteady.

With one final squeeze, Tim reluctantly let go and stepped back, and Damian did likewise, scrubbing at his eyes again. Tim gave Damian a firm pat on the shoulder. “Down we go.”

Damian nodded. “Down we go,” he agreed, voice muffled.

Tim let Damian lead the way when the boy lightly shoved in front as Tim opened the clock. Down the stairs the two of them went, quiet, until they were in the familiar cold, musty air of the Cave. Batcow mooed in Damian’s direction, and he trailed over and rubbed her head for a moment, murmuring softly to her. But finally, he lifted his chin and squared his shoulders and planted one foot in front of the other, striding into the med bay. Tim followed only a couple steps behind.

His first thought was that Bruce still somehow managed to look limp, deflated, even though he was definitely conscious: seeming to drink in the sight of Damian with half-open eyes, his gurney elevated so he could see them without having to sit up. It wasn’t the worst injury he’d ever received by a long shot, but it was growing more and more difficult for him to shake off his injuries as quickly as he used to. But he immediately reached his hand out, only slightly trembling, towards Damian. “Damian. I was…was hoping you’d come. Come here, sit down.”

Damian grasped his father’s hand immediately, pulling a chair up behind him with his foot and sitting down, clasping their hands together in his lap. “Evening, Father,” Damian said, hesitant and very much worried.

Bruce half-coughed a laugh. “Oh, my boy.” His hand slipped from between Damian’s and traveled up to Damian’s face, gently rubbing his cheek. “Look at you. My boy.”

Damian blinked, quiet tears welling in his eyes and spilling over once in a while. Bruce stroked them away whenever they spilled.

“How was your day, baby? Tell me everything. I’m…I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”

“It’s not your fault, Father, do not blame yourself, please,” Damian pleaded, voice cracking. “I…well, Drake came this morning…”

He started the story, and Tim quietly got up, slipping out of the room unnoticed. He had a feeling that they’d be okay without him.

He fed and watered Batcow, so Damian wouldn’t have to worry about doing it, and headed upstairs to his old bedroom. He texted Steph before getting in the shower. I think I’ll stay the night, if it’s okay with you. Just to be sure that we’re good.

Of course. Give him a kiss from me and the babies.

Will do. Tim threw his phone onto the bedside table and went to shower.

When he got out, toweling off his hair and stepping back into his room, the sky outside his window was dark, and he could hear laughing and Mario Kart sound effects from down the hall in the game room. He shook his head with a stifled smile, flicking on his phone again. He looked one last time at his reminders for today. Damian’s 18th birthday, survived, he thought, satisfied, as he switched the screen off and climbed into bed, sliding under the covers.

(Ao3 Link Here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10949835 )

#replies #anon #my fic #damian wayne #tim drake #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #stephanie brown #jason todd #dick grayson #batfam #batfamily #dc #timsteph

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