#darla jade

[rogueish]

2022 sadbanger report: Sophie Cates (who used to be Silver Sphere) nails the melancholy so key to the genre; Deborah's Child's "Red Light" pushes it all the way to alienated; Darla Jade's "Can't Run Forever" taps into the importance of the bassline; Youha's "Flower Rain" goes the transcendent route; Daya's "Her" turns into a different, but equally sad, banger two-thirds of the way through; Terror Jr remain at the pinnacle of the genre.

[mercenaryg]

Promise me that you'll come back someday.

[atcostmag]

Darla Jade - Backseat Driver

An invigorated single to provide her third release this year, Staffordshire, Midlands singer Darla Jade presents "Backseat Driver". Building on an upward momentum, the track sees itself with a "pedal to the metal" as its accelerating tempos and top of the vocal delivery works through the track's dramatic crescendos. A glossy power-pop track with riveting percussion and crystalline vocals, the track sees collaboration with trusted associates and producers Imad Salhi and George Gleeson written in writing camp in Rome with the spirit of the 1980's in mind. Thematically, the song describes itself as having to lay bare and let go, while taking the vulnerable leap of faith and trusting someone to have your best interests at heart.

"Backseat Driver"

[cruelrhythm]

stuck on repeat.

[redrabbu]

Realized I never drew the oldest sister, Toffee. So here she is! Along with a chart of the family with their respective colors.

Toffee is estranged from her sisters and is anti-social to the point of being functionally mute. She likes riding asteroids and chain smoking.

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[holly-mckenzie]

After you left, I looked and I found reports from the provincial courts about mothers losing children. Yeah. This thing that happened to you and to your family... This is disgusting. When I first met you, you were all dressed up in a nice dress, but you didn't smile. And I thought, "She has lost everyone... I have lost everyone, this is a good match." It wasn't true. You had a family. So, now you need to make decisions for yourself. You need to choose what you want. What do you mean? I mean, this is your life. You choose.

LITTLE BIRD  (2023) ｜ Episode Six directed by Zoe Leigh Hopkins

[dreaming-of-texel]

Little Bird (2023)

[chronicangel]

Wildflowers and Dirt Smudges and Sunshine

Link to this fic on AO3. Words: 1427 Date posted: November 9, 2020

Summary: “I was just thinking.”

She pulls the cup away from her mouth and you watch a single droplet of water trail down the side of the cup until it catches on her thumb. She doesn’t seem to notice. “About mommy?” She asks, and your breath catches in your chest. Just like her mother, she’s so smart. So observant. Too observant, you sometimes think, and too eager to observe. She wants to know everything about the world even though she is far too young to learn the answers to some questions. It’s been three years and you still don’t know what to tell her when she asks what happened to her mother, and redirecting her with toys and stories about other things isn’t really working anymore.

“Yeah, about mommy.”

She looks just like her.

Your breath still catches in your throat every time you look at your daughter. She’d looked just like her mother when she was born, but she’s only grown into the resemblance as she’s gotten older and it makes your chest ache.

You’re really fucking trying here.

She acts just like her mother, too, running in circles around your backyard and picking flowers and bringing every single one up to the patio to show you.

She trips on the last stair on her sixth trip back down to go pick another flower and all of the ones she has left in your lap fall onto the wood and get trampled as you scramble to go check on her, your heart pounding harder in your chest than is warranted. Your daughter is crying, big green eyes bubbling over with tears of pain and fear. She’s fallen a million times in her life, a consequence of always being in motion, but it still startles her every time.

When you look her over, her hands are lightly scraped up, but she’s otherwise uninjured-- or so you think, until you see the blood, stringy as it’s mixed with saliva, that trails down her chin from her mouth. You suppose she must have bitten her tongue when she fell.

Seeing her bleeding, even if you know that it is small and insignificant and she will likely be over it and playing again in a few minutes, activates every parental instinct in you that you hadn’t had before she was born and which had only quadrupled when her mother died. She’s bleeding and she’s crying and she’s saying your name over and over again (“Daddy! Daddy it hu-hurts!”) and you should calm her down from her hysterics rather than devolving into your own but you know that you’re far from a perfect father. You clutch her body to yours and run inside faster than you’ve had to run since you were a teenager but you don’t have time to be winded because you’re looking for paper towels and filling up a glass of water for her.

It’s the weirdest trigger for it but Jade’s last words to you are playing on repeat in your head. It’s weird because you didn’t get a dramatic dying speech from your wife. You hadn’t held her hand while she wasted away from a sickness and delivered a speech about how much she loved you and how you needed to be brave for your girl, nor had it been like the movies where she was in a car accident and they’d plucked her out of the car and she spoke to you through her strained breathing. Jade had died in a car accident, certainly, but you had been at the house with the baby and she was dead by the time they got her in the ambulance, let alone by the time that you finally got a phone call.

It was supposed to be her first day back at work. Her alarm had woken you up and you complained about the early hour and she had reassured you that she didn’t want to be up, either, and she was up until four in the morning with the baby, too. “There’s a lasagna in the freezer. Toss it in the oven around 4:30. I love you, Dave.” And then she’d been off.

And then she’d been gone.

That lasagna sat in your freezer for the next four months while you put off and put off and put off organizing her funeral, until finally John practically broke into your house and said that he understood that you’d lost your wife and that you had a new baby but he just lost his sister and he wanted to know if you were burning her or putting her in the ground, and you’d had a sobbing meltdown to your best friend for the first time in the entire time he’d known you because you didn’t know what she wanted. She’d been thirty years old, it wasn’t as though her death was at the front of either of your minds.

That was a little over three years ago. Your daughter, who by the time that you have zoned back into the present reality has stopped screaming and is instead staring at you with wide, watery eyes full of concern that you recognize from long before she was born, has grown from a colicky three and a half month old as she had been then to the most adventurous damn three-and-a-half-year-old you’ve ever met. You sometimes wonder if Jade’s ghost doesn’t haunt your house and whisper in her ear new ideas for exploring.

“Daddy?” She sniffs, and the paper towel in your hand is apparently useless as her mouth seems to have stopped bleeding so you use a pathetically small amount of it to wipe at her chin and clean the blood-spit-combo still there before you offer her the glass of water. When you were her age, you only drank apple juice and Kool-Aid, but she’s a lot chiller about it.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” you murmur as she holds the glass with both hands, and through the clear glass you can see her already-drying scrapes and the way the blood and dirt on them gets against the cup. Jade would have scolded you for not giving her one of her many colorful, plastic, much harder to drop and break sippy cups, you think, but it’s hard to guess since your daughter couldn’t exactly use a sippy cup the last time Jade was around to scold you for anything. “I was just thinking.”

She pulls the cup away from her mouth and you watch a single droplet of water trail down the side of the cup until it catches on her thumb. She doesn’t seem to notice. “About mommy?” She asks, and your breath catches in your chest. Just like her mother, she’s so smart. So observant. Too observant, you sometimes think, and too eager to observe. She wants to know everything about the world even though she is far too young to learn the answers to some questions. It’s been three years and you still don’t know what to tell her when she asks what happened to her mother, and redirecting her with toys and stories about other things isn’t really working anymore.

“Yeah, about mommy,” you answer after a second, because Jade wouldn’t want you to lie to your kid. She could be so naively honest sometimes, to the point of hurting others’ feelings and not realizing why they’d be hurt when all she’d ever said was the truth, and unlike apparently everyone else in the world you’d always loved that about her, loved that you could always count on Jade to be honest about everything. She never spared you a moment of pity, that woman.

“What was she like?” She asks, the same way that she has a million times before, and you think about it because your answer is almost always different. She was endlessly compassionate and curious. She saw the fucking wreck that would one day become your father and she decided to pick up all those pieces and see what order they were supposed to go in probably partially just because she wanted to see the complete picture and partially because she always hated seeing broken anything-- broken toys, broken machines, broken people. It had taken a long time and a lot more patience than you deserved, you know that. Jade deserved better than screaming matches at two in the morning because she got a little too close to the truth, the soft fleshy bits between your pieces of armor, your Achilles heel which was actually your Achilles entire body and you hoped just spinning the myths would be enough to discourage people and you’d never have to put the real work in to be indestructible. But boy did Jade make you put the work in and you know that you were infinitely better for it, that you’re still infinitely better for it. Everything that you are now you owe to her. She was a sculptor and you’re fucking Wonder Woman or some shit, forged by her delicate hands from clay and love.

“Your mom was a walking garden. Wildflowers and dirt smudges and sunshine. And everybody who ever saw her smiled.”

Your daughter pulls a face, clearly confused, and you lean in to press a kiss against her forehead.

“I’ll explain it when you’re older. C’mon, why don’t we go play outside some more?”

She looks just like her.

Your breath still catches in your throat every time you look at your daughter. She’d looked just like her mother when she was born, but she’s only grown into the resemblance as she’s gotten older and it makes your chest ache.

You’re really fucking trying here.

She acts just like her mother, too, running in circles around your backyard and picking flowers and bringing every single one up to the patio to show you.

She trips on the last stair on her sixth trip back down to go pick another flower and all of the ones she has left in your lap fall onto the wood and get trampled as you scramble to go check on her, your heart pounding harder in your chest than is warranted. Your daughter is crying, big green eyes bubbling over with tears of pain and fear. She’s fallen a million times in her life, a consequence of always being in motion, but it still startles her every time.

When you look her over, her hands are lightly scraped up, but she’s otherwise uninjured-- or so you think, until you see the blood, stringy as it’s mixed with saliva, that trails down her chin from her mouth. You suppose she must have bitten her tongue when she fell.

Seeing her bleeding, even if you know that it is small and insignificant and she will likely be over it and playing again in a few minutes, activates every parental instinct in you that you hadn’t had before she was born and which had only quadrupled when her mother died. She’s bleeding and she’s crying and she’s saying your name over and over again (“Daddy! Daddy it hu-hurts!”) and you should calm her down from her hysterics rather than devolving into your own but you know that you’re far from a perfect father. You clutch her body to yours and run inside faster than you’ve had to run since you were a teenager but you don’t have time to be winded because you’re looking for paper towels and filling up a glass of water for her.

It’s the weirdest trigger for it but Jade’s last words to you are playing on repeat in your head. It’s weird because you didn’t get a dramatic dying speech from your wife. You hadn’t held her hand while she wasted away from a sickness and delivered a speech about how much she loved you and how you needed to be brave for your girl, nor had it been like the movies where she was in a car accident and they’d plucked her out of the car and she spoke to you through her strained breathing. Jade had died in a car accident, certainly, but you had been at the house with the baby and she was dead by the time they got her in the ambulance, let alone by the time that you finally got a phone call.

It was supposed to be her first day back at work. Her alarm had woken you up and you complained about the early hour and she had reassured you that she didn’t want to be up, either, and she was up until four in the morning with the baby, too. “There’s a lasagna in the freezer. Toss it in the oven around 4:30. I love you, Dave.” And then she’d been off.

And then she’d been gone.

That lasagna sat in your freezer for the next four months while you put off and put off and put off organizing her funeral, until finally John practically broke into your house and said that he understood that you’d lost your wife and that you had a new baby but he just lost his sister and he wanted to know if you were burning her or putting her in the ground, and you’d had a sobbing meltdown to your best friend for the first time in the entire time he’d known you because you didn’t know what she wanted. She’d been thirty years old, it wasn’t as though her death was at the front of either of your minds.

That was a little over three years ago. Your daughter, who by the time that you have zoned back into the present reality has stopped screaming and is instead staring at you with wide, watery eyes full of concern that you recognize from long before she was born, has grown from a colicky three and a half month old as she had been then to the most adventurous damn three-and-a-half-year-old you’ve ever met. You sometimes wonder if Jade’s ghost doesn’t haunt your house and whisper in her ear new ideas for exploring.

“Daddy?” She sniffs, and the paper towel in your hand is apparently useless as her mouth seems to have stopped bleeding so you use a pathetically small amount of it to wipe at her chin and clean the blood-spit-combo still there before you offer her the glass of water. When you were her age, you only drank apple juice and Kool-Aid, but she’s a lot chiller about it.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” you murmur as she holds the glass with both hands, and through the clear glass you can see her already-drying scrapes and the way the blood and dirt on them gets against the cup. Jade would have scolded you for not giving her one of her many colorful, plastic, much harder to drop and break sippy cups, you think, but it’s hard to guess since your daughter couldn’t exactly use a sippy cup the last time Jade was around to scold you for anything. “I was just thinking.”

She pulls the cup away from her mouth and you watch a single droplet of water trail down the side of the cup until it catches on her thumb. She doesn’t seem to notice. “About mommy?” She asks, and your breath catches in your chest. Just like her mother, she’s so smart. So observant. Too observant, you sometimes think, and too eager to observe. She wants to know everything about the world even though she is far too young to learn the answers to some questions. It’s been three years and you still don’t know what to tell her when she asks what happened to her mother, and redirecting her with toys and stories about other things isn’t really working anymore.

“Yeah, about mommy,” you answer after a second, because Jade wouldn’t want you to lie to your kid. She could be so naively honest sometimes, to the point of hurting others’ feelings and not realizing why they’d be hurt when all she’d ever said was the truth, and unlike apparently everyone else in the world you’d always loved that about her, loved that you could always count on Jade to be honest about everything. She never spared you a moment of pity, that woman.

“What was she like?” She asks, the same way that she has a million times before, and you think about it because your answer is almost always different. She was endlessly compassionate and curious. She saw the fucking wreck that would one day become your father and she decided to pick up all those pieces and see what order they were supposed to go in probably partially just because she wanted to see the complete picture and partially because she always hated seeing broken anything-- broken toys, broken machines, broken people. It had taken a long time and a lot more patience than you deserved, you know that. Jade deserved better than screaming matches at two in the morning because she got a little too close to the truth, the soft fleshy bits between your pieces of armor, your Achilles heel which was actually your Achilles entire body and you hoped just spinning the myths would be enough to discourage people and you’d never have to put the real work in to be indestructible. But boy did Jade make you put the work in and you know that you were infinitely better for it, that you’re still infinitely better for it. Everything that you are now you owe to her. She was a sculptor and you’re fucking Wonder Woman or some shit, forged by her delicate hands from clay and love.

“Your mom was a walking garden. Wildflowers and dirt smudges and sunshine. And everybody who ever saw her smiled.”

Your daughter pulls a face, clearly confused, and you lean in to press a kiss against her forehead.

“I’ll explain it when you’re older. C’mon, why don’t we go play outside some more?”

[jasminejarss]

Little Bird: 1.01 (2023) dir. Zoe Leigh Hopkins & Elle-Máijá Tailfeathers

[gible-love-nibles-archive]

Girls' night, aka my main Toons! I really need to solidify the other two's designs and decide all of their outfits, but I like these headshots for now

(Please reblog! I like reading tags :] )

[movienized-com]

Little Bird

Little Bird (Mini-Serie 2023) #JanetKidder #AlannaBale #EllynJade #DarlaContois #KerisHopeHill #OsawaMuskwa Mehr auf:

Mini-SerieJahr: 2023 Genre: Drama Hauptrollen: Janet Kidder, Alanna Bale, Ellyn Jade, Darla Contois, Keris Hope Hill, Osawa Muskwa, Darren Ross, Gideon Starr, Lisa Edelstein, Eric Schweig, Kristian Jordan, Michelle Thrush, Rowen Kahn, Tayton Mianskum, Charlotte Cutler … Serienbeschreibung: Die Miniserie mit sechs Episoden folgt einer indigenen Frau auf ihrer Reise, ihre Familie zu finden und…

[gucciwins]

harry brings his girlfriend home to meet his family but it does not go as planned

word count: 5896

a/n: enjoy this story inspired by a lovely anon. happy reading, my sweet friends 💜

+

Y/N was nervous. 

She squeezed Harry’s hand, trying to ground herself, but it seemed to transport her to the first time they met at the diner down the street from her apartment. 

Going to university in Los Angeles wasn’t glamorous, not when she had endless bills to pay to keep a roof over her head. She had gone to Martha’s Cakes, a small diner ten minutes from her apartment that served the best hot chocolate. The food was good too but the hot chocolate is what she ordered each visit without fail. It’s a place she’d eat when Y/N had a bit of extra to spend on herself. Instead of buying herself new shoes, or another jelly cat bag charm (Otto, the sausage dog, went everywhere with her) she decided on eating a good meal that didn’t consist of ramen or buttered noodles. She came here when she needed a pick me up or simply wanted to have a nice conversation. It was a late Tuesday in the Spring. Where the sun took longer to come down, allowing her extra time at the bar to do assignments and chat with Antonio about the best produce sales. Y/N had her head down working on an essay due two weeks from now. It was based on one of Los Angeles buildings; it could be based on the oldest church to the Dodger Stadium. Y/N decided on the Avila Adobe residence. Known as the oldest standing residence in the City of Los Angeles. Olvera St. was a famous street and was filled with history. It was one of her favorite places to walk through. 

As she was looking through photos, taking notes of significant dates, a patron sat next to her. Y/N didn’t bother seeing who it was, simply scooting her scattered papers closer to her, tucking a few under her laptop. 

“It’s not bothering me.” A man spoke. 

It startled Y/N only because he had a deep British voice. It felt odd to be hearing in such an unknown area. 

“Darla would throw coffee on it if she saw I was bothering a customer.” 

“I said it’s okay.” 

Y/N laughs. “She would say it wasn’t.” 

It seems the man lets it drop as he has nothing to reply. Y/N keeps up with updating her notes as she hears the man order a stack of the lemon poppy pancakes. Those were her favorite, Y/N would get them when she was having a bad day because it would without a fail make her smile. Y/N worked in silence over the next half hour when she felt the need to step to the restroom. Y/N did not want to pack up. Usually she asks a staff member to watch her items, but the diner seemed to be a bit busier. She looked around and her eyes landed on the pancake guy who had his headphones on. She hated bothering people, but he looked kind enough. 

Y/N tapped next to his plate to get his attention. It worked because in seconds he slipped off his headphones and had turned his whole body to look at her. It gave her the chance to look at him fully for the first time. He had a buzz cut, and it looked really good. He had slight stubble, but what captured her attention were his bright jade eyes. It felt like he was staring deep into her soul.

“Do–uh–Would you please watch my stuff? I have to use the ladies’ room.”

“Course. Guard it with my life.” 

Y/N thanked him and hurried away. When she came back, the man had slightly shifted over, his eyes staring intently at the dark screen of her laptop. 

“Thank you,” she shot him a smile. Waking up her screen and getting back to her assignment, except she couldn’t get the man out of her head. 

The dimples were something she focused on when he smiled, telling her it was no problem. Then his green eyes were so beautiful she felt she had seen them before. Though she could swear she had never met him before. She did have a weird feeling she had seen him before. Once it hit eight o’clock, Y/N knew it was time to call it. Y/N had her rough draft ready and could continue tomorrow. For now, she’d walk home and take a bath to wash away today’s day. 

Y/N was packing up and could see the green-eyed gentleman was too. She would hate herself if she didn’t ask him where she knew him from, if she knew him. Y/N had her bag strapped on her shoulder and turned to him for the last time. 

“Excuse me, sir?”

He turned, as if he was waiting to hear from her. “Yes?” 

“How do I know you?” 

The man’s smile dropped. He looked confused, so she didn’t know him. 

“Don’t think we’ve met, until today, Y/N.”

Y/N’s frown deepens. “I didn’t tell you my name.”

He pointed to her bag. She looks down at the red stitching displaying her name. Well, now she looked dumb. Of course, he could read. “You look familiar to me. Sorry if that’s weird.”

The guy clears his throat, shaking his head. “I get that a lot.” 

That’s odd, Y/N thought. 

“I feel like I know you,” she tried one last time. 

“Promise we don’t know each other. I would remember someone as beautiful as you.” 

Y/N’s jaw dropped (not literally), but her face felt warm. Fuck, she was not expecting this turn of event. “Ha, uh. I want to say me too, but uh, there’s something familiar about you.” 

Harry chuckles as if he knows something she doesn’t. 

“Can I walk you out?” He asks. 

She nods. He leaves a large tip and follows her to the exit. Y/N ways to Sonia, who shoots her thumbs up, but Y/N has no idea why. Y/N and the man linger outside the door, waiting to see who makes the first move. 

“Well, uh, can I have your Instagram?” Y/N asks, not knowing if asking for his number was too forward. At least this way she could stalk him for a bit. 

“Oh, I don’t use that. I can give you my number,” he counters. 

Y/N perks up. “That works.” She hands him her phone where she watches his hands type in his phone number into her contacts. He hands her back her phone, and she looks at the newly added contact. 

Harry S. 

It seemed that’s all she needed for her to connect the dots. She lifts her head up and Harry has a flushed face. He didn’t look away from her, almost waiting to see what she’d say. 

Y/N not sure how to break the silence. “Harry Sanchez?” 

Harry laughs, and it’s all the confirmation Y/N needs. “More like Styles.” 

“Oh.” 

Did she fuck up her chances? She feels like she didn’t. She got his number. 

“What can I use your number for?” She asks, wanting to double check. He still wants her to have it.

“Hopefully for us to plan a date.” 

“Even after this,” she points between them as if to explain what they know just happened. 

“I’d like to see where it could go.” 

“Shit, uh. Well–I’m free Thursday.” Harry smirks, making her want to crawl in a hole because now she feels desperate. “I’m going to leave.”

Harry stops her by grabbing her hand. “I think Thursday is perfect. Are you up for a sunset dinner by the beach?” 

“Sounds perfect,” she promised him. 

“Good. Thursday it is.”

Now she is standing in front of his childhood home, about to meet his mother and older sister. Y/N had spoken to his mother, Anne, on the phone a few times, but his sister was always busy when Harry tried to pass her the phone. Harry promised her it would go well, but she feared the worst. Their story was genuine but to others could sound fabricated but come on, no one knows Martha’s cakes, it’s not even on Yelp. It’s a place once stumbled upon and then shares the magic with people in their life. 

Harry said he felt like coffee and walked for a while until he saw people walk out. The smell of coffee is what drew him in, but the pretty girl he sat next to had him stay for hours. It’s something he shared months down the line. Y/N and Harry had now been together for nine months. Because of her Master’s Y/N had no time to travel. Harry visited home often, but Y/N couldn’t drop everything she was doing to go with him. He understood, but she felt his family wouldn’t. Harry met her dad and twin brothers six months into dating because they lived down in San Diego, only a two-hour drive from them. While Harry’s family lived an ocean away and she refused for him to pay for her flight to London. On top of that, she had classes and exams to worry about that did not allow her to hop on a flight for a week. Thankfully, she made it through the winter semester and had a few weeks off from her internship before going back for her last semester. Y/N knew graduation was just around the corner, and thankfully, had little debt to pay off.

Harry held her tight as he led her up the steps. Y/N was walking slower, trying to prolong the introduction. In her mind, she hoped she was simply psyching herself out and that things actually went well with Harry’s family. That they accepted her because they could see how much she loved him. 

“You ready, Lovie?” Harry flashed her a dimpled grin.

Truthfully, she wanted to say no, but Y/N couldn’t do that to him. Not when he was bouncing with excitement. “Ready.” She confirmed. 

Harry gave two loud knocks and then opened the front door. Y/N stood behind him as he rushed to embrace his mother. Anne was a sweet woman, much shorter than Harry, but by the tight embrace she held Harry, Y/N could tell she was strong. 

Anne gave Harry two big kisses, one on each cheek, before turning her attention to Y/N. 

“Y/N!” Anne cheered. She said it with so much delight, it surprised Y/N. 

In a matter of seconds, someone tightly wrapped Y/N in a hug, which she quickly reciprocated. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Twist.” 

Anne waved her off. “Call me Anne, my dear.” 

“Anne,” Y/N repeated.

“Now come in and tell me all about the trip. Did he trick you into going to that fancy lounge where you get free food?” Y/N giggled because Harry indeed took her to a fancy lounge when he said he was taking her to get a smoothie. 

Y/N spared a smile at Harry, but it was quick to fall when Y/N met another pair of eyes in the kitchen, looking at her with an intense stare. It dropped quickly because her attention shifted to Harry. Y/N focused back on Anne, trying to brush off the moment as something she imagined. 

Y/N tried her best to ignore the pit forming in her stomach. There was no need to worry. Harry talked about wonderful things about his family. She was in safe hands. At least that’s what she kept reminding herself.

+

Y/N didn’t feel welcome. Anne was a gem, but Gemma was cold and looked bored whenever Y/N said a word. Y/N wondered if Harry picked up on it. He hadn’t said a word. Harry was home and had no time to deal with Y/N’s insecurities. She had to be reading into Gemma, not liking her. Harry spoke the world of his older sister. He said she was his best friend, someone whose opinion he valued. Fear struck her. If Gemma didn’t like her after this visit, she knew that as soon as she got on that plane to go home, Harry would be breaking up with her. At least she’d had several hours to cry about on the plane pathetically.  

“There’s no way she didn’t know who you were,” Gemma scoffed, unbelieving of their story. 

Harry brushed off her comment as if she said nothing. “Gem, I was bald.” 

“Your face didn’t change.”

Harry sighs, “no, but you did a double take when I showed up to your doorstep to show you.” 

Gemma frowns, knowing he was right. “Whatever, you were all over twitter.” 

Harry is beginning to pick up on his sister’s defense and knows to drop it but will be picking it up with her later. “Anyway. Sitting next to each other, she asked me to watch her stuff when she had to use the restroom.”

“To look you up,” Gemma coughs.

Y/N fidgets in her chair, wanting to be anywhere but here. Harry continues with his story. “She thanked me and went back to her work. Before she left, Y/N asked if we knew each other, but I told her we didn’t. I wouldn’t forget someone as beautiful as her.” 

“Charming,” Anne gloats. “My charming boy.” 

Harry finished the story, stating it was meant to be. He had loved spending the time in Los Angeles getting to see the city through Y/N’s eyes. It’s a city she’s been living in for a couple of years. There was a lot for her to share with him. Harry had taken a liking to her favorite coffee shop. It had a design resembling a greenhouse and filled with plants, mainly featuring dried lavender. Truthfully, he spent a lot of time there because it was Y/N’s preferred place to study because it never got busy. Y/N called it her hidden gem. 

“I’ve never been happier,” Harry shares. Y/N beams at his words but can’t help glancing at Gemma, who can’t help but look sick to her stomach at hearing this news.

Dinner passed dreadfully slowly. Y/N comments when she needs to but honestly hopes to disappear for the night soon, no longer wanting to burden Gemma with her presence. While Anne showed Y/N where she could freshen up, Harry stayed downstairs to share a nightcap with his sister. 

Anne comes back to join them, but Gemma bites her tongue until their mother bids them goodnight. Harry gives his mother a tight embrace, commenting on how much he missed her. Gemma was happy her younger brother was home. 

“Are you happy, Harry?” Gemma breaks the silence that had fallen between them.

Harry sighs, “never been happier.” 

Gemma frowns, because she believes him. “I-I-nevermind.” 

Harry frowns because Gemma is never someone to stop herself from saying what’s on her mind. “Hey,” he places his hand on top of hers. “It’s me. Your annoying younger brother, you can tell me anything.” 

She removes her hand from under his and places them on her lap. “I don’t think she’s right for you.”

Harry sits back, surprised. “Sorry?”

“It’s clear she’s after something.” 

He’s having a hard time believing his sister. “Like what?”

“Your money.” 

“Is that all I’m good for?” He asks, baffled. 

“No. That’s why I’m telling you. She’s after one thing.” 

“How would you know?”

“Come on,” Gemma scoffs. “She goes to a prestigious school with a cost that no one could afford. It’s clear she wants you to pay for it.” 

“Gemma, I met her during her last year.”

“Debt doesn’t go away overnight,” she fights back. “She’ll get you to pay off her loans and leave you.”

Harry’s anger is overwhelming him. 

“You don’t even know her. Yet you say bad things about her.” It shuts Gemma up, and he uses that to his advantage and walks away.

“We saw the donation you made,” Gemma comments before he can make it up the stairs. 

He turns back, trying his best to swallow down his anger. “If you would have asked me, you would know it’s for the music program. I did that for several universities if you would have taken the time to do a bit more research. It grants them a scholarship, plus pays for room and board.” 

Gemma has no response. Harry is now standing in front of her and Gemma is nervous. She had never seen her brother this upset. 

“What I do with my money is my problem. If she wanted me to send her money for a new car, I would. If she wanted me to buy her a piece of land, I would do it in a blink of an eye. If Y/N asked me to give her every last dime in my account, I would do it without a second thought because I love her. I love her and she loves me. You know, five minutes is not enough to judge her. I do not have to tell you of her financial issues, but I will so you can go home tonight and sleep knowing how upset I am with you. Y/N received the presidential scholarship covering her tuition for the three years she was there. Y/N has applied to hundreds of scholarships to cover her book fees, and has to take on an unpaid internship while working 40 hours a week to cover her rent. Y/N has not accepted a single dime from me for her school because she has gotten this far without me. Y/N only lets me pay for her seven dollar coffee every other day. Y/N would rather give every last dollar to me if I needed it instead of keeping it for herself. Y/N still sends money to her twin brothers for new shoes, or new backpacks, because she loves her family.” 

Harry is near tears but keeps going. “I love Y/N. You might not, maybe you never will, but that girl has been the best thing to happen to me. I’ve never been more cared for and loved since she entered my life. So please, don’t bother coming back tomorrow or the rest of the week unless you have an apology for her.”

Y/N is grateful Harry’s room connects to the bathroom because, while she finished getting ready, she thought she would ask Harry for a cup of water and instead stumbled upon a conversation she shouldn’t have. Y/N tries her best to swallow her tears, but it’s no use. They’re more powerful than her. They stream down and Y/N decides to lie in bed, hoping by the time Harry comes in, she’s fast asleep. Y/N isn’t sure how much time has passed, but her tears have dried up and she’s as still as a rock when she hears Harry come in. She wants to tell him that she’s not worth defending if it means he’s messing up his relationship with his sister.

She hears him get ready for bed. Y/N knows he’s folding his clothes and placing them on the chair. He’s meticulous about his night-time routine. He crawls into bed next to her. Y/N tries her best to steal her breathing to make it seem like she’s sleeping, but Harry knows her too well. He scoots right behind her, his hand sliding over her hips and settling on her stomach, right by the scar she got on her eight birthday when she fell off her bike. Harry rubs the lifted skin, where she got four stitches. 

Y/N lets out a deep breath, working up the courage to say something, but her throat is closed. She relaxes against him. All her tears dried up. She is beginning to feel better now that she’s with him. A kiss to her temple has her heart slowing down. This is what it is to be protected. 

“I’m sorry,” Y/N croaks out when she feels like enough time has passed. 

Harry pulls her tight against him. It fills her with ease. “How much did you hear?”

Y/N shakes her head. “I don’t want you to argue with your family.” 

“It’s only my sister,” he defends.

“She’s an important person in your life. You’ve always specified that.” 

Harry sighs. He leaves a kiss behind Y/N’s ear. “You are important to me, too.”

“You don’t need to be fighting. It’s not necessary.” 

“It is when she needs a wack to her head.” 

“Harry,” Y/N drags out. “I don’t want you burning bridges.”

Harry understood where she was coming from, but Y/N was not seeing how it affected him as well. “We’ll be fine. She’s my sister. We’ll talk in a few days. All this will be in the past.”

Y/N freezes, feeling as if someone dropped a cold bucket of water on her. If Harry believes everything will be alright with his sister, that means he sees himself forgiving her for what she said but also means he would be getting rid of the problem. Her. 

Harry was going to be breaking up with her. This started her tears to fall again, only this time she couldn’t keep quiet. They were pouring out of her at a quick rate. He was quick to sit up bringing Y/N with him.

“Hey, hey,” Harry cooed. “What happened? What did I do?”

“Y-y-you,” she stuttered. Nothing was coming out. 

He would not rush her. Instead, he shifted her to straddle his lap. Y/N tucked her head into his neck. Hary felt his neck dampen with tears. He pressed soft kisses to her hair, whispering “I love you,” hoping it would be enough to calm her. He snaked a hand under her night shirt softly running his nails up and down her back. Y/N curled in closer at the action. His sweet girl was feeling overwhelmed, and he felt awful because he wasn’t being helpful. 

Y/N pulled away. Her eyes were puffy and tears streaming down her cheeks. Harry still thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her hands moved from her side up to his neck, she settled them on his cheek. She caressed his face, calming him down. He hadn’t realized how overwhelmed he was, but it’s clear Y/N could see what he needed even in her moments of sadness. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” Y/N voiced. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Harry frowned. No one had said anything about him leaving. He would never dream of walking away from her. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“But Gemma–”

He cuts her off. “Gemma doesn’t know you like I do. She is looking out for me and I know she meant no harm, but she went about all this wrong. She decided to judge us, judge you before getting to know you.”

Y/N did no wrong. She was nothing Gemma accused her of. Y/N knew that, of course she did, but Y/N hoped to impress his family, not make them upset. 

“I know you, Lovie. My mum knows you. Mostly, you know yourself. Your character speaks for you and it has never been anything but kind and loving.”

Harry’s words slowly begin to mend her heart.

“I love you, Harry.” 

He connects his lips with hers in a loving kiss. “I love you so much.” 

Y/N falls asleep to Harry’s voice as he sings her to sleep. It’s a lullaby he says his mum would sing when he had a nightmare. While Y/N didn’t know how tomorrow would go, she was happy to have Harry at her side.

+

The morning passed slowly between the three of them. They shared stories with Anne, Harry, catching her up on his upcoming plans. Y/N talked about her looming graduation and told Anne about her thesis project. Anne promised to make the trip for her graduation, something Harry couldn’t stop gloating about how she was top of her class on her way to graduate summa cum laude. Y/N had stepped outside wanting to enjoy all the open land Anne had. The cats happily roamed around Y/N as she settled in the grass. Y/N thought of her dad at home and what he’d have to say about the situation. He’d probably tell her to run while she could, but Y/N knew Harry was her person. Y/N laid down, closed her eyes and took in all the surrounding noise. She heard birds chirping, a purring in the distance and the rush of the wind hitting the wind chimes. It was perfect. 

There was a loud band that had Y/N sitting up in a hurry. She looked back and realized it was the back door. Anne had stepped out, Y/N could see Harry in the kitchen, hands moving rapidly, and she knew he wasn’t alone. Anne sat not to Y/N, neither of them saying a word. 

“My daughter owes you an apology.” 

“Anne–” 

She stops Y/N. “No, I raised her better than that. I’m not sure when she got so protective, but it’s clearly not for the best. Harry is nearing 30 he doesn’t need his sister looking out for him. While I’m glad they have each other, this was unnecessary. It caused a lot of hurt that should have never existed.” 

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to talk to her if you’re not comfortable.”

Y/N didn’t know how to feel. She dreaded talking to Gemma, but Y/N knew she’d feel worse if she went home and never talked this out with her. “I’m willing. I-I might need time to forgive her.” 

Anne squeezed Y/N’s hand. “That’s perfectly alright. Now tell me about these brothers of yours.” 

Y/N spent the rest of the evening with Anne, forgetting about her problems. It isn’t until Harry called them both in for dinner that they realized they spent hours outside. 

Harry greeted her with a kiss.

Dinner went off without a hitch, the three of them sharing all kinds of stories. Mostly Harry interrupting Anne to tell her a new story about Y/N he remembered. Harry that night promised he was alright with Gemma. He was feeling hurt. Assured her he loved her, but needed time to move past it. 

Y/N woke up early the next morning and decided to go on a walk along the river. Harry told her it felt never ending. They had walked it once every day, but today she went alone, letting Harry sleep in but also have that extra time with Anne. As Y/N walked, she thought of her brothers and how they would love to be throwing rocks in the river. Y/N was sure one of them would even fall in on accident. The weather would pique her dad’s interest. He was a sunshine man. She was sure the gloomy weather would be too much for him to handle. 

Two hours later, Y/N came back and was taken aback by Gemma’s presence on the front steps of the house, holding a thermal mug. 

“Hi,” Y/N greeted. 

“Morning, nice walk?” Gemma asked. 

Small talk. It was safe. “Mhm, Harry showed me the trail he liked to walk on.” 

“Mmm…coffee?” Gemma offered.

“Uh, I’m okay,” Y/N rejected.

Gemma looked dejected, but continued on. “Do-Is it okay if we talk?”

Y/N nodded. “Sure.” 

Y/N approached Gemma sitting on the opposite end of the same step. She wouldn’t be the first to talk, but it looked like Gemma was figuring out her words. 

“I’m sorry” are Gemma’s first words. “I’m sorry talking about you behind your back, even more sorry that you overheard.” Gemma looks sincere, and Y/N nods for her to continue. “I love Harry. He’s the best brother, and a person in general. He cares so much that I fear he’s gotten screwed over so much in life because he trusts with his heart and not his head.”

Y/N frowns, because that’s one of the things she loves most about Harry. How welcoming he is with his kind nature and how much love he spreads every day whether it’s through his music or holding the door open for a stranger. It all adds up to show that he’s a person full of love.

“Those are his mistakes to make. His own hurt to go through. Life isn’t all sunshine.” Y/N tells her. 

Gemma sighs heavily. “I know. Sometimes I feel like he’s still the same kid who cried when I would go out without him.”

“That hasn’t been him for a long time.” 

“I know.”

It’s clear Gemma has something deeper than she has to figure out and talk with Harry about, but it seems that’s a bridge she’ll cross when she is ready. 

“I love Harry. I think we have a wonderful relationship.” Y/N knows Gemma might not want to hear this, but it is important he does. “Harry loves communication. I swear we’ve never had an argument that didn’t end in us making up. He gives me my space but makes sure to be near. I’m reminded of his love every second of every day, whether he’s with me or not. I’m not sure if I make him feel loved every minute, but I do my best to remind him in my actions and words. I’m big on writing notes. He’s received a few love letters. I’m sure he’d show you if you asked.” Gemma tries her best to hide her surprise, but it’s written all over her face. “I’ve only heard wonderful stories about you, Gemma. I’m sure they’re all true, but I know Harry thought we might become friends.” Y/N pauses. “Even if that doesn’t happen, I do want you to know I respect you. For however long I’m around, I know that I respect you, even if it might take some time for me to trust you.” 

Gemma has tears running down her face. “I’m sorry. I never provided you with an opportunity. I’m not sure why I didn’t. I am really sorry. Meeting the family is always hard, and I fucking ruined it.” 

“It’s not okay, but we’ll give it time. Time heals.” 

“Thank you for hearing me out.” Gemma tells her gratefully. 

Y/N smiles. “Are you joining us for breakfast? Harry promised to make lemon ricotta pancakes.” 

“I’d like that. I’ll head in soon. I want to finish my coffee.” 

Y/N heads inside, where she finds Harry at the stove wearing an apron. She wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head between his shoulder blades. 

“Morning, pretty girl.” 

Gemma looked dejected, but continued on. “Do-Is it okay if we talk?”

Y/N nodded. “Sure.” 

Y/N approached Gemma sitting on the opposite end of the same step. She wouldn’t be the first to talk, but it looked like Gemma was figuring out her words. 

“I’m sorry” are Gemma’s first words. “I’m sorry talking about you behind your back, even more sorry that you overheard.” Gemma looks sincere, and Y/N nods for her to continue. “I love Harry. He’s the best brother, and a person in general. He cares so much that I fear he’s gotten screwed over so much in life because he trusts with his heart and not his head.”

Y/N frowns, because that’s one of the things she loves most about Harry. How welcoming he is with his kind nature and how much love he spreads every day whether it’s through his music or holding the door open for a stranger. It all adds up to show that he’s a person full of love.

“Those are his mistakes to make. His own hurt to go through. Life isn’t all sunshine.” Y/N tells her. 

Gemma sighs heavily. “I know. Sometimes I feel like he’s still the same kid who cried when I would go out without him.”

“That hasn’t been him for a long time.” 

“I know.”

It’s clear Gemma has something deeper than she has to figure out and talk with Harry about, but it seems that’s a bridge she’ll cross when she is ready. 

“I love Harry. I think we have a wonderful relationship.” Y/N knows Gemma might not want to hear this, but it is important he does. “Harry loves communication. I swear we’ve never had an argument that didn’t end in us making up. He gives me my space but makes sure to be near. I’m reminded of his love every second of every day, whether he’s with me or not. I’m not sure if I make him feel loved every minute, but I do my best to remind him in my actions and words. I’m big on writing notes. He’s received a few love letters. I’m sure he’d show you if you asked.” Gemma tries her best to hide her surprise, but it’s written all over her face. “I’ve only heard wonderful stories about you, Gemma. I’m sure they’re all true, but I know Harry thought we might become friends.” Y/N pauses. “Even if that doesn’t happen, I do want you to know I respect you. For however long I’m around, I know that I respect you, even if it might take some time for me to trust you.” 

Gemma has tears running down her face. “I’m sorry. I never provided you with an opportunity. I’m not sure why I didn’t. I am really sorry. Meeting the family is always hard, and I fucking ruined it.” 

“It’s not okay, but we’ll give it time. Time heals.” 

“Thank you for hearing me out.” Gemma tells her gratefully. 

Y/N smiles. “Are you joining us for breakfast? Harry promised to make lemon ricotta pancakes.” 

“I’d like that. I’ll head in soon. I want to finish my coffee.” 

Y/N heads inside, where she finds Harry at the stove wearing an apron. She wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head between his shoulder blades. 

“Morning, pretty girl.” 

“Hi, Harry. I love you.” 

Y/N knows he’s grinning. “I love you too. Even if you left me alone this morning.” 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she defends. “You always told me a morning walk here cleared your head.” 

“And did it?” 

“Mmm…like magic.” 

“Are you okay, Lovie?” Harry turns off the stove. He turns around, setting his hands on Y/N’s waist. His hair makes her laugh as she sees it sticking in different directions. 

“We talked. She apologized. Promise I’m okay. It still hurts, but I’ll try my best to forgive her for you.” 

Harry tuts his tongue. “No, honey.” Y/N tilts her head, confused. “You don’t have to do this for me.” 

“But she’s your–”

“She’s my sister, but that doesn’t mean you have to change how you feel about me. I promise I am with you. She made a mistake, and I’ll forgive her but at my own time. You take your time as well.”

Y/N feels overwhelmed all over again because she really did get lucky with Harry. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more, my love. So much more.” 

Harry gives her a kiss. A promise that everything will be alright.

+

thank you for reading my beautiful friends! let me know your favorite parts

[stem-sister-scuffle]

STEM SISTER SCUFFLE: ROUND 3 MASHUP 4

Jade Harley (Homestuck) vs Entrapta Princess of Dryl (Netflix She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

Jade Harley is a Nuclear Physicist, Roboticist, Ectobiologist, and Cosmic Manipulator (warping space and planets)!

Entrapta Princess of Dryl is a Roboticist, Programmer and First Ones' Tech Historian/Archaeologist!

Why you should vote for each contestant:

Jade Harley:

"She's soo fun and silly and her symbol is literally an atom. she regularly irradiates steak to feed her weird dog"

"She and her nuclear powered dog creating a new universe. she's cool"

"Built a modded bass guitar that's only playable when she's in her robot form and has extra arms. Became a doggirl. She also plays the flute :)"

"i think you have enough ramblings about her already but i couldnt NOT submit her, she is so dear to me <3"

"bbg has THREE scientific specialties!! she genetically modifies plants and makes them grow beautifully high just because she can and loves science. in her alpha timeline she’s a tech mogul and creates technology that challenges the evil empress that brought earth to ruin. AND she’s a furry"

"Doggy"

"She plays a silly flute refrain. She's a furry. Literally, she's a doggirl. She's also a god and created the universe. JADE BEST GIRLIE!!!!"

Entrapta Princess of Dryl:

"She builds robots!!! She's curious and inquisitive!! She loves her robots!! She has the coolest hair and also I want to be her bestie. She's an absolute love"

"autism :)"

"Builds robots and computers for fun and companionship. Can take apart and understand almost any tech she is presented with. Autism lever set to max and I love her. Mandatory boob window in all her outfits and I've never related harder to a character."

"autistic icon, amazing inventor and app round excellent character"

"she has prehensile hair it’s literally the best thing i’ve ever seen in my life, it’s never once acknowledged by any of the characters as abnormal or explained in any way i’m literally obsessed with it. also autism queen"

"PIGTAILS!!!! autism"

"Entrapta is very bubbly and positive. She never lets anything like losing her friends or going to the bad side or getting put on a death-sentence island stop her from scientific pursuits! She actually drives a lot of the conflict in the story, as she explains the technological backstory of the world, and helps both sides be better at fighting. She loves data, doing experiments, and the scientific method. She's also in love with space. She is an autistic queen <3"

"phenomenal canon autism representation without being weird & shitty. also she’s so strange & wonderful & relatable in so so many ways. my computer is named Darla bc that’s what she named the AI for the spaceship in s5"

"She is THE science queen because she loves science so much and her love of it is INFECTIOUS. I don’t know anything about science but Entrapta makes it seem like the coolest thing in the universe. I love her"

"She ourple. I luv her"

"She's so passionate about her work. Takes through notes! Figured out how to hack her home planet!!! She's autistic as hell and I like her overalls."

"You won’t get autism like this anywhere else bestie"

"amoral mad scientist who flips between the good guys and bad guys, loves building so many inventions, ends up converting the head bad guy (for most of the series) to good through the power of love"

"She has outfitted her entire castle to be a maze, and installed electronic locks on some. Her staff seems to be mostly robots she has built herself. In good part reverse engineering or adapting ancient tech found on the planet. She's incredible at what she does and personally fixes, invents and builds a wide range of stuff from space ships to portals to a prosthetic exoskeleton to trackers to war machines. She can do it all. Autism win! Girlie has been criticised for being treated childlike or being unable to understand those around her to a ridiculous degree, but I'm honestly just glad she's not a Sheldon Cooper. Her favorite bots have personalities and therefore implied AI (but not the shitty kind), which means she's pretty fucking good at software too. She likes tiny foods."

"So very autistic about technology. Initially believes robots are way better than people, eventually makes human friends but also very much still has robot friends (I love Emily so much). Gets so excited about finding new First One's tech. Also her happy spinning around in a space suit in that one season 5 episode heals my heart every time I watch it"

"She's the planet's leading expert on ancient tech (sci-fi/fantasy universe) and develops most of the tech in the show and is very autistic about it. i love her"

"She is fun and funky. Chaotic neutral. Definitely some autism coding going on, which is very charming. She has a pet robot? It is cute"

"Bc she is ENTRAPTA!! No srsly she is such a well-written character. At times kinda morally grey but always lovable and great and she is truly amazing at what she does!! I'm pretty sure she's already been submitted but I wanted to make sure :)"

[gnomewithalaptop]

Batfam Time Travel Fic Recs

Because @clarenceislazy requested it on my last fic rec compilation, here's a list of my favorite DCU time travel fics! They're all pretty Batfam-centric, but eh niche is niche what can you do

Damian fics:

A Good Place by LemonadeGarden - Damian gets sent back in time to a Batman who's never had a Robin. Very sweet, very fun.

The Rule Stands by Engineerd - After Dick's death, Damian has to deal with a time-displaced ten-year-old Dick Grayson. Love a good Dick and Damian bonding moment, PLUS this gets a happy ending <3

to stay in one place by Jezebunny - Injustice!Universe Nightwing!Damian time-travels/dimension-jumps to a timeline where Dick Grayson is still alive and his counterpart is still Robin. Ugh this is so angsty -- I have an unreasonable amount of love for Injustice Damian

looking for the shapes in the silence by popsunner - In a world where Dick died on the job, Damian falls through a hole in reality where Dick is still alive and finds that some things don't fit the way they used to. SUCH an amazing representation of complex grief -- literally every time I read it, I cry

Steph fics:

time slip by almondrose - A mistake in time leads to six Robins meeting. Honestly, this one is kinda cracky, and only barely qualifies as Steph-centric, but I still like it a lot

and we'll never be the same by almondrose - Steph and Tim go on a road trip to figure out the post-universal-reboot anomalies. This is more of a post timey-wimey-bullshit fic than a real time travel fic, BUT I think it's real cute regardless

Tim fics:

Tractors by lieu42 - Ooh this one is honestly so so fun! In a reimagined universe where DC's heroes operate out of the UK, Red Robin Tim finds himself right back in the year before everything went to hell. He has a duty to get back to his correct timeline so he can find Bruce, but with Bart and Kon still alive, there's a part of him that doesn't want to leave. Literally SO well written and trippy as hell -- this fic deals a lot with addiction, drug use, and grief, so definitely go into it forewarned. TimKon

not for very much longer by CreamOfTomatoSoup - ugh what CAN'T I say about this fic, apart from the fact that it's one of my favorite time loop fics of all time. Post Cult of Dionysus Bernard Dowd finds himself reliving the worst day of his life -- the day Darla got shot. Featuring identity porn, Steph as Robin, Original-Personality!Bernard, the grief of a childhood you can never return to, and the weirdness of having to interact with your significant other when he's currently a sixteen year old who doesn't know he likes dudes. Don't look at the incomplete warning -- it's not abandoned, just a wip, and I legitimately cannot recommend this fic enough. This fic made me read War Games. This fic made me a Darla Aquista stan. This fic made me ship timbern. Please read this fic.

Jason fics:

The View From Jade by lowflyingfruit - Jason Todd accidentally travels back to before Bruce took Dick in. I feel like this is on every time travel rec list, but what can I say: I'm a basic bitch

Two Dead Birds by InsaneTrollLogic - Jason Todd wakes up in the middle of his Mob Boss Era and immediately decides to rewrite his own history. This is very funky fresh of him, just in my personal opinion.

Dick fics:

So It Goes by 60sec400 - Bruce from Dick's Robin era receives a troubling call from Nightwing. Be warned -- this fic is angsty as hell. Implied major character death. Don't look at the incomplete warning -- it's a lie (the author has specified they intended it to work as a oneshot)

In This Or Any Other Universe by wildsofmarch - Dick-as-Batman ends up in Battinson-era Gotham. Again, I think this counts more towards the Dimension Travel pile than the strict Time Travel variety, but I'm still putting it here because I enjoy the hell out of it

a million dreams by CaptainOzone - In the seconds between the trapeze line snapping and their bodies hitting the ground, John and Mary Grayson find themselves transported twenty years into the future. SO GOOD I honestly can't stand it.

If you think I missed a fic you love (or if you've written any yourself and want to self-plug), feel free to drop a link in the reblogs! Especially if you know of any that center around Steph, Cass, or Duke -- istg I've scrolled through fifteen pages of the AO3 Time Travel tag, and I've found like maybe two fics that center around any of them. It's honestly a little ridiculous

[holly-mckenzie]

Excuse me. Are you Dora Mueller? What do you want? I've been looking for you. Well, who the fuck are you? I'm your sister. I went to child protective services and they gave me your name. They said you were looking for family. Yeah, yeah. I'm Bezhig.

LITTLE BIRD  (2023) ｜ Episode Three directed by Elle-Máijá Tailfeathers

[grimmbitty]

Trying to re-work my Shazam character designs. Obi first up is Billy.

I didn’t want to modify them too much because I like what I’ve done so far. However, I really wanna try and them them all model sheets, so that requires a lot more focus and intention with my lineart than I’m used to lol,,,

I was also inspired to work on this today specifically because I read the new chapter. At first I thought it was gonna be the same, “Billy’s long-lost parent ruins Vasquez family adoption” plot line that the new52 had, but I was pleasantly surprised. I can’t tell which run I like better so far because like,,, I’m really confused on why Billy & the Captain are 2 different people??? I have a hard time following that part. But, I enjoy the characterization a LOT more in this one. In the new 52 Billy is a little too much of an asshole imo. 💀

Like, I think in this new Dawn of DC version of Billy would have never yelled at Darla, and wouldn’t have picked random fights with Mary. Unlike his 2013-2019 counterpart lol. I really DO like characters who are a bit jaded & a little snarky though. I guess it’s a fine line that writers have to try and not cross.

Anyways that was my little ramble. If you would like to discuss the new run with me, or maybe let me know which version of Billy you prefer both my DMs & comments are open, as always. :)

Enjoy! ~ ⚡️❤️