#doesn't mean i got it in me to finish anything in the fandom anymore

[sasukimimochi]

MCYT / DSMP FANFICTION-

His Forever Home

Hi! Warning that this is a discontinued series, and i only have about 3 chapters but i wanted to share it since people seemed to want me to post my abandoned fics regardless of status. I'm going to post 1/2/3 together in this same post because they aren't long chapters.

I'm not sure any warnings apply, but if they do i'm going to say to just read at your own risk. i don't remember actual violence being in this fic, but if there is, there's your warning: possible but unlikely violence pffpfp - actually, maybe terminal illness could be a warning? it's not really, it's a different thing, but it feels similar, so i will add the warning. [also, no! no character was planned to die, so just letting you know there's no MCD here].

This fic is obv supposed to be platonic so don't be weird if i have worded something not quite right, especially since i wrote this two years ago now and i dont wanna proofread it lmao. please excuse any writing errors as well. I hope you enjoy it for what it is!

Theme: Awesamdad / Tommyinnit centric (child tommy); Fantasy; Adoption?

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So let's get into it! fic is under the keep reading line.

His Forever Home

[1] Soundless Voice

The usual trip home was late at night today. Sam could hear the quiet rustle of leaves, ears perked up to listen to the sound. It wasn’t usually quite this calm, but he found himself enjoying it, thanking whatever watched over them for the moment of respite.

Well, until it suddenly wasn’t so quiet.

He could hear what he believed to be crying. Not so loud that it felt normal, audible but weak and filled with little strained breaths.

Sam slowed his pace, ears swiveling and red pupils sharpened in an attempt to locate where it was coming from. It wasn’t what you would expect to hear from a cry, after all there were no underlying tones of voice. It was sniffly, wet, and breathy. Regardless, it was someone or something crying and he immediately veered off the path carefully to investigate.

He didn’t find the source immediately, but it gave the man time to deduct who it was to be young, judging by the sound of their cries. He’d been around at least one or two of the members of their server being raised, and crying was just something all children did at some point. Short, messy sniffles and voiceless sobs, where there should be loud, child-like wails. It was unusual to hear.

The hybrid slowly pushed branches aside, catching a glimpse of gold and paused. “…Hello? Are you okay?” He started to move aside the leaves, only for his hands to rapidly get swatted at and for the crying to become a bit more frantic. “H-hey, it’s okay…It’s okay.” He tried to placate whoever it was, voice low and soothing as he moved back some to give the little thing more space.

“I’m just here to help…are you hurt? Are you lost?” Sam waited patiently, hoping the kid wouldn’t be too afraid to move, or worse, dart off. “I’m not here to hurt you, I promise on my honor as a Guardian.”

He waited, listening to the soft sniffles and hiccups of this potentially lost lamb as he stewed over possible things he could do to help the kid once he was actually in his custody. He held his breath as a wide, silvery eye peeked out from behind the leaves, framed by messy, muddy, golden curls and reddened, puffy skin. The kid’s eyes looked like starlight, little fractals catching light and splitting the iris with fades of distant blue until it reached his stark white pupils.

“There you are…are you okay—oof,” Sam let out a surprised grunt as the boy rushed out and slammed into him, hiding his face into the only unarmored section of the man’s torso, which happened to be the nook of his arm. Surprised, He knelt down properly to make sure the kid had support, a sadness sinking into him when he actually came into contact with the boy. He was so thin. So, so thin.

Sam gently cradled him, slowly standing and making sure the kid had support under his legs and his back so he didn’t fall. “This might be difficult, but can you speak?” The kid had just done a lot of crying, and who knows how long he’d gone without water. Sam wasn’t sure he could speak.

The child slowly looked up at the man, though he kept his head pretty low and avoided uncurling himself from his little spot against the hybrid. He pursed his mouth, eyebrows furrowed and eyes moist as if threatening once again to burst into tears. “It’s okay…” Sam quietly spoke, “We’ll figure it out. How about we get you to my home and get you a bit of food and water. When you’re ready you can tell me what happened or where I can take you to get you home.”

Sam was tired from the long day, but he had enough energy to get him home and help the kid get fed, hydrated and in bed. He was pretty thankful they fell asleep on the way back, though it did make getting his armor off when he got home a bit difficult. This kid did not want to let him go. Eventually he managed to get his armor off, and melted into his armchair, letting out an exhausted sigh.

There was so much he needed to do, but he supposed he would need to start by getting the kid cleaned and changed into something else.  He would have to wait until the morning to contact anyone about the kid, though he knew a good handful of them would be up still, he didn’t want to be wrong and disturb someone’s sleep. He could handle this for the night, just a few more hours.

“Hey…?” Sam gently rubbed the kid’s back, continuing his softened tone. “You okay to get cleaned up? After you get clean you can have a bit of food, some water…” He paused, letting out another deep sigh when the child tightened his grip and pressed his face more firmly into the other’s shirt. “I can hold you again after. I’ll be right there if you need me, too—but you’re covered in mud. I can’t put you to bed like that.”

Sam felt Fran prop their legs up onto the couch and place her head onto his knee, causing the man’s ears to perk up slightly. “Do you like Puppies?” Sam was glad to see the boy eventually give a little nod. “Okay, Fran can come with us then and help keep you calm; she’s a lovely support dog.”

The kid lifted his head and stared apprehensively at the dog, but did reach out in the end to give her head a little pat. The positive response the boy received had him relaxing slightly, watching as she nuzzled his hand and booped her snoot up against his arm. “That’s it…Fran is the best lady.” Sam smiled, clicking his tongue to signal for her to get down so he could get up.

“You can pet her as much as you want while we get you clean. Would you like that?” Sam chuckled softly as the little boy nodded, glad to see him opening up little by little.

He sat the boy down on the toilet lid, finally getting to take a good look at the kid. There was no way he was 10, he must be 7 or 8 at the most, if the kid was smaller than he should be. Instead, he nearly looked like he was 6. After getting him undressed, Sam lowered him into the warm water, watching as Fran kept their nose within his reach while he gently washed the boy in little swirling circles.

What he started to notice though was a marking on the boy’s neck. It was so caked in mud that he hadn’t even noticed it at first glance, but now…as he carefully pulled away dried flakes of mud and rinsed it away, Sam’s heart dropped.

This wasn’t normal.

But what was worse, once the mud was gone, it was bleeding. Thing is, it should not be. There were no openings in his skin, no cut, merely darkened marks in a swirl-like burn. Inwardly, Sam shuddered in horror at the thought someone could do something like this to a child.

Sam paused when the kid touched his face, eyes focusing back on the little, now clean, face of the boy. Angry, but worried. That was an interesting expression.

“I’m okay, kid. Did I worry you?” Sam smiled a bit, draining the very dirty water so he could finish cleaning the boy with fresh water from the shower head and one of the goat milk soaps he owned. The kid huffed softly, but closed his eyes as water ran back over his head.

In a matter of moments, they were wrapped up in a big fluffy towel and on the couch. “Okay, let me patch that neck of yours and then I can make you a bit of food.” The boy watched as Sam wandered to the bathroom to get the first aid kit, hands buried in Fran’s fur.

Sam wasn’t exactly a nurse, but he was able to successfully patch and wrap the marking loosely, just enough so that blood wouldn’t get everywhere wherever he went. “That feels better?” Sam hummed, pleased with the nod of affirmation. “Alright, you just stay here with Fran a little longer, okay? I’ll make you something to eat and then I’ll see what we can do about something for you to wear until later.”

And he needed to figure out the kid’s name. While the kid wasn’t able to talk, hopefully he was old enough that he knew how to write a little.

After a good long moment of staring at the fridge, eventually Sam started to make tea sandwiches. Sam really hoped the kid liked cucumber and cream cheese because he really needed something in his stomach, even if he started small. He reheated soup for himself, soon settling back on the couch next to the two.

Sam started by helping the kid drink some cold water, but moved to the sandwich relatively quickly, holding it up for him. “Here…try this?” He moved it to within reach of the boy’s mouth. “It’s really good, I like having these when I’m sick, or can’t eat much.”

The boy looked very unsure, but eventually did take a bite. Slowly, he held it himself and started to work through it bite by bite, until he’d finished one half and the entire glass of water. “Good job.” Sam praised, “Do you want the other half?” He paused and upon receiving a shake of the head, he continued, “That’s alright. I’ll put it away for later.”

Sam worked on eating his dinner while the kid tangled his hands into Fran’s fur. By the time he was done, the kid was dozing again, head pressed against her brow. Like the wonderful dog she was, she supported the child, adjusting her head as needed to keep him from falling.

Sam didn’t have children’s clothes. Not something small enough to fit the boy at least. He sighed at the clothes he owned, gently pushing hanging clothes to the side as he tried to find something he could maybe work with. Nothing was that small though. He furrowed his brow, staring at the closet and letting out a deep sigh of frustration.

Well, I could probably tear up an older shirt and make it smaller somehow for the night…

He dug into some old boxes, eventually pulling out one of his old tees from when he was younger, dark blue and grey and in no way fitting him any longer.

“That’ll do…” He stared at it, wondering what he could do to make it smaller, before draping it over his arm and wandering to his workshop. Soon, he’d pinched the cloth together on its back and sewn along the line, so that it would at least not completely fall off his little body when he put it on.

The kid didn’t seem too entirely interested in getting up at this point, but once Sam came back he had his hands up as if begging to be lifted. “Put this shirt on and we can tuck you in, if you want Fran can sleep with you tonight, too.”

After a bit of squirming, the kid was covered and once again saddled on Sam’s arm while he carried them to the bed. “Fran? Come on, good girl.” He petted across her head after she hopped onto the bed, then pulled back the blanket to tuck the boy in. “There we go…comfy now?” He sat beside the bed, starting to dig through the drawer on the side table to find one of his memo books.

Sam could feel the kid’s eyes on him, boring into the side of his head as if he wanted something, so he wasn’t surprised to see the kid staring at him when he moved back to face him. “Can you write? At least your name, and if you can manage anything else, maybe how you’re feeling…?” Sam held out the little notebook, glad to see the kid actually start to use it once he had it in his hands.

T O M M Y.

S L E E P Y.

Tommy’s writing was all uppercase, and very messy. At least he didn’t seem to be in pain though, that was always a plus. “Hello Tommy…it’s nice to meet you. Since you’re sleepy I’ll go ahead and let you be, Fran can stay here with you—“ Sam had moved to get up, but stopped when Tommy grabbed onto his arm and looked up at him with pleading eyes, he doesn’t have it in him to pull away.

“Alright…I’ll stay, I’ll stay.” He moved his hands to instead card through the boy’s damp curls, watching as he relaxed and leaned into his hand. Sam had a small thought, but he decided to promptly ignore it. He was not getting attached; he didn’t even know where the kid came from.

As the child fell asleep though, Sam’s chest was warm and his smile soft.

He was probably doomed from the start.

[2] The Six Swans

Sam woke up feeling somewhat suffocated. He lifted his head off the bed, and very quickly realized why. A certain boy had wrapped himself around his head and he had a face full of shirt and bony torso. “Mmm?? Tommy…?” He wriggled himself loose and took a deep breath, laughing quietly as they instead wrapped their arms around Sam’s shoulders and nuzzled into his collar bone.

Sam gently lifted the boy, gently clicking his tongue to alert Fran while he cradled Tommy to his chest. “Alright, alright…Sleepy boy is still quite tired I see…” He stretched his own legs as he walked, yawning quietly as he dug in a drawer looking for something he could sling the boy in. “This’ll have to do…” As it turns out, his apron was a really good sling if he tied it right. Good thing the kid wasn’t a newborn, only thing Tommy needed was a little support to stay clung to his neck.

“How about some breakfast, hm?” Sam gently petted the top of the little boy’s sleepy head, smiling quietly as he opened the freezer to grab some frozen fruits. “I wonder if Dream is too busy at this hour…” He sighs, chopping the fruit a little bit so they were more manageable for his blender. “Do you like bananas?” He gently asked, waiting for the feeling of their little head moving to confirm the nod. “Alright, banana berry smoothie it is. Sorry the blender will be a bit loud…”

After he added in a splash of milk, one hand being used to help cover the other’s ears while the blender runs. The boy squirms slightly from the noise, burying his face further into their shoulder and huffing. Sam rolled his eyes and smiled, sooner than later hitting the off switch and moving to get something that he could eat out of while humming a quiet tune.

The familiar tune had Tommy’s hands tightening and relaxing into little fists. God, someone was going to have to pry the child away from him at this rate. He hoped once he found out who the kid belonged to that he could at least come visit from time to time, maybe baby sit.

“Alright…can I put you down so you can eat?” Sam took the bowl over to the couch, managing to get Tommy to let go and sit bundled in one of the throws he usually had laying over the cushions. “Think you can eat a few bites of this?” Sam got a small spoonful and brought it up to the others lips, pleased when the boy took a few tentative sips.

The sleepy boy looked all rosy in the morning, hair a messy mop of curls and cowlicks, cheeks bright pink and eyes half-lidded with drowsiness. Sam’s ears lowered, letting out a low, concerned warble when Tommy started to refuse more after only a few sips. “It’s okay…we’ll try again around lunch.”

It didn’t take long for the boy to reach up, silently asking to be carried again. Sam smiled sadly and gently pulled him up to nestle into his shoulder again.

Awesamdude: Hey, Dream? You too busy rn?

Dream: mm. not really, just woke up though. whats up?

Awesamdude: I found a kid on my way home last night.

Dream: you what? they ok?

Awesamdude: Sort of. I need you to come look at his code, like there’s a mark on his neck.

Awesamdude: he’s not said a word to me since I took him in, and I’m concerned he might be like…I don’t know, something seems wrong and without him being able to speak to me I can’t figure out what it is.

Dream: A mark?

Awesamdude: It’s not like a scar, but it bleeds and it kinda looks like a burn. It…I don’t know, it could me an intentional thing placed on him.

Awesamdude: I have managed to get a little food and water in him, but he’s thin. I don’t know how long he’s been out there.

Dream: something intentional… okay, I’ll be over soon, alright? I’ll let Niki know you need some clothes for him. How big is he?

Awesamdude: He’s about the size of a 6 year old. Really thin, he’s probably just shy of 3 ft tall so he’s still really tiny…

Dream: jesus they’re just a kid…

Awesamdude: yeah, I butchered an old shirt of mine so he wasn’t running around in his birthday suit.

Awesamdude: Anyway, see you when you’re here. Little guy is really clingy, think he’s got some separation anxiety.

Dream: right, see you soon

Sam let out a deep sigh and dismissed his comm, leaning back against the couch while rubbing gentle circles into the boy’s back. His ears turned up, tilting his head down slightly to listen to their breathing.

The boy’s lungs were crackling quietly, breath warm and shallow. It was almost like… Sam’s heart dropped and he carefully swaddled the boy in his make-shift sling again, hand supporting the back of his head as he wandered to the bathroom to forage in the medicine cabinet. “Under your tongue,” He whispered, gently poking a thermometer into his mouth, and waited.

Sam furrowed his brow, letting out a worried sigh as he shook the thermometer. Tommy had a fever, and while it wasn’t too high right now, he guessed it would get worse before it got better. In his weak condition, he didn’t like those odds.

Awesamdude: please bring a fever potion, if you can get more I’ll pay you back

Dream: will do

For now, Sam went about blending more fruit smoothies and putting them into popsicle molds. If the kid’s temperature got worse, he’d need ways to regulate it as much as he could—freezing little trays with water for ice cubes if he couldn’t stomach the smoothies, and putting water and juice into the fridge to keep it nice and chilly.

“Tommy, a friend of mine will be here soon…he’s going to look at your code and see what’s wrong with your throat…” Sam felt the boy move slightly, indicating he’d been heard. “I can keep holding you for now, but realistically I can’t keep you on me all the time…” He felt the child’s grip tighten, and he deflated slightly, ears drooping a bit. “Fran can keep you company while I use the bathroom and stuff.”

Sam sighed quietly as he felt their little hands tighten on his clothes and release. He needed to have someone around to help him curb this separation anxiety.

A knock had his ears perking up, setting aside the rag he was wiping the countertop with and moved towards the entrance to hit the opening button with his foot. “Hey, thanks for coming so early in the morning…” Sam shook the man’s hand briefly yet firm, as they usually did.

Tommy curled up more, pressing his face into Sam’s neck as if trying to escape the noise. Sam gently made a ‘shhhh’ noise and rubbed circles into his small back, looking up with a pleading expression to the man. “Did you get the potion? He’s got a fever…” He speaks softly, not wanting to disturb the boy more than he already had.

The shorter man pulled his hood down and removed his mask, giving a soft hum of concern. “I did, I’ll take a look at his code first though before we introduce that to his system.” Dream walked in and then sat down the satchel he’d been carrying, removing a string of tied potion bottles from the bag and hung them on a hook above the counter.

“You said you found him last night?” Dream’s brow furrowed, forest green eyes with hints of sun-kissed lime scanning over the two.

“Yeah…in the forest, on the way back from my current build.” Sam sat in front of Dream, letting the smaller male hover his wrapped hands over the bundle in his arms. The glow coming from his hands flurried with numbers, pupils scanning the child’s figure as he slowly moved his hands over different areas of his form.

Tommy’s eyes opened slightly, giving a soft breath that sounded a bit scared, and right after little hands flying up to hold onto Sam’s ears and pulling. “Ow! Ow, owow, Tommy, Tommy, easy—“ Sam gently pulled the other’s fingers off his ears and frowned slightly in concern, gently rubbing their little palms with his thumbs. “It’s okay, I’ve known him for a really long time, he’s not gonna hurt you…he’s just checking your code. It’s confusing, but it’ll help us figure out what’s happening with you.”

Tommy made a few noises with his breath that Sam deducted as what could be silent whimpers, really wishing at that moment he didn’t have a giant bulky mask on so he could nuzzle their hair.

“Shhh…shh, shh,” Sam gently ran his fingers through the little boy’s hair, doing his best to calm the boy so Dream could finish. “Do you want to pet Fran again?” He clicked his tongue, said dog trotting up to the two, partially hopping up on the chair, then weaseling her snout in between their two bodies so she could lick the boy’s cheek and make little huffs in his face.

Tommy seemed to get into a better mood, wrapping his arms around her snout and resting his head against hers. Sam let out a relieved sigh, gently petting his back but avoiding Dream’s hands until he was done.

“…Sam, uh…” Dream rubbed the back of his neck, brows furrowed so much more tightly than before. “I don’t…know if he’ll…” He cleared his throat when Sam’s face dropped. “Uh, he’s…cursed, Sam. He hasn’t said anything because he can’t, and it’s not doing anything good for his body, either.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, voice uncharacteristically sharp, yet soft. Not angry, but on the edge of despair. Dream wasn’t surprised, Sam cared a lot about his friends and family, but…this was a stranger. To Dream, it sounded the same as if Sam would have been told one of his close friends was terminally ill. This kid had certainly wiggled into his heart quickly…

“Sam…” Dream looked hesitant for a moment, then opened up his comm to give Sam a private message, which the man promptly opened.

Dream: The curse is killing him. He’s too young to properly recover from it- an adult could survive it and just live mute, or live long enough to break it, but…he’s going to get a lot worse.

Dream: Sam, I think he’s too delicate.

Sam’s hand shook on the communicator, swallowing thickly with glassy eyes. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t let it happen, there had to be a way—another ping came through.

Dream: The best you can do is help him stay comfortable. I’ll try to find his family, and I’ll try to figure out if there’s any way to lift it…Don’t let yourself get more attached. The hopes aren’t high.

He knew what Dream said was true. But that didn’t stop the tears running down his face. It didn’t stop how much it hurt. It didn’t stop the ache.

Don’t take my child away.

[3] Summertime Sadness

Sam slowly moved his thumb across Tommy’s back, very aware of his hand as he stared at the small, sleeping boy.

“I think he’s too fragile.”

“The best you can do is help him stay comfortable.”

Sam’s eyes welled up again, breath catching in his throat. Cursed…the child he’d found was cursed and dying. He gently stroked the child’s spine, letting himself feel the little bumps and dips and watching as he breathed.

Why should a child have to die? Nothing he did, as a child, would deserve this kind of punishment. Tommy was so sweet, tired, but so sweet and soft and…small.

He barely had it in him to do what he needed to, making sure the kid got a bit food and water in him, kept him comfortable, carried him around close with his little head pressed into the man’s shoulder.

I got that summertime, summertime sadness—

Sam had the radio playing quietly on the counter as he gently swayed in the center of his living room, humming quietly along to the lyrics as he listened to the little thing breathe shakily on his chest. He found out quickly that Tommy slept the best when he laid over his heart, something about the rhythmic beat soothing his bones.

Dancin' in the dark, in the pale moonlight—

Sam’s voice cracked softly, trying his best to keep himself together but failing miserably the longer he thought about the small child’s fate. What could he do? He was just a hybrid.

Think I'll miss you forever, Like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky—

Sam tucked his head over those soft, golden locks, eyes closing as tears slipped down his cheeks and onto the new cotton mask he wore. He really was gonna miss this kid.

I got that summertime, summertime sadness Summertime, summertime sadness—

Sam let out a soft sob, feeling the curls rub against his chin as Tommy moved to lift his head. Wide, silver hues matched bright green and blues, the overflowing tears falling onto his little cheeks. “I’m sorry…” Sam whispered, “I-I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The kid raised his hands, small palms and little fingers holding his clothed face. His face looked sickly, but he had that fiery look in his eyes again, that—that determination, that look that was just so Tommy, like nothing was ever going to take him down.

Sam’s features softened, and his ears lowered as this kid comforted him. He didn’t need to hear a word to understand that this child was telling him to stop giving up.

It felt special. He’d been in love before, but not like this. It felt like he was holding sunrays, blighted by rain clouds but never losing its light. He loved this kid, he wouldn’t let him fall to this.

He was going to find the way, even if he had to give up part of himself to do it.

“Thank you, Tommy.” Sam let his smile reach his eyes, leaning in to rest his mouth against the other’s curls, hand supporting the child’s head. “One way or another, we’ll make it through this. You’ll make it through this.” Sam smiled slightly as he felt the other tug on his ears, finding that it hurt less and became more endearing when Tommy did it.

Even though he was still scared for what could happen, he’d try to keep up hope. He’d be the pillar Tommy needed.

Got that summertime, summertime sadness Oh, oh-oh, oh-oh

Sam was helping Tommy hold an ice pop to eat when he heard a knock on his door. “Oh…” He wandered over to the door and kicked the button gently, watching as the door opened to reveal his smiling, pink and blonde haired friend.

“Niki! Hey, I was wondering when you were coming by.” He welcomed the girl in, careful not to bring his voice up too much so that Tommy stayed comfortable. “How are you?” He asked, making sure the door closed properly before turning back to her.

“I’m doing very well, thank you.” She smiled, rosy irises giving a bit of a sparkle in greeting. “I heard you needed some baby clothes, so I have delivered.” She held up her bag, stuffed to the brim with possibilities. “I had to do some guesses in size, but I can adjust things if they’re too big.”

She giggled when it looked like Tommy frowned at her for the baby comment, “I’m sorry…they’re for a big man like yourself.” Tommy nodded a bit, continuing to make a mess on the towel Sam had placed between Tommy and his chest to make sure he wasn’t getting covered in juice.

Sam smiled, tail flicking behind him. “Thank you so much Niki…I really appreciate it, I feel bad making him wear nothing but my big shirts.” Niki waved a hand and placed the bag on the counter, starting to sort through it, one article at a time.

“I got this little sweater here, it’s pink because I had a lot of that laying around, but it's pale enough to not be too extreme.” She held up a small sweater, soft and adorned with a golden sun in the middle. “My favorite is this light blue one with the sunflowers though—“

And soon, Tommy was cleaned up and in a new set of clothes. Along with that, Niki had brought a new sling that would work much better for supporting Tommy while he was being carried around.

Sam had decided on him wearing the sunflower top with dark blue shorts, and luckily it wasn’t so big it fell off of him, so they decided the others could be adjusted while he wore this outfit. “You look handsome,” Sam gently informed, chuckling softly as Tommy, now exhausted, nuzzled back into his shoulder. “Thank you Niki…cash in a favor from me anytime. I owe you.”

Niki smiled brightly and waved her hand. “It’s no problem. When he gets better you should take him to the bakery so I can spoil him.” Niki giggled, finishing folding the clothes she needed to adjust back into her bag. “Do you need any help? I can watch him for a bit while you have a shower.”

Sam debated, hand quietly petting Tommy’s back. “I would like a shower…but he’s got quite a bit of separation anxiety. He might be okay if Fran is here with you two…we could try it briefly?” He didn’t really want to leave Tommy, but he hadn’t showered in a couple days. It would be nice.

“Sure…we’ll take it slow.” Niki took off her extra top, approaching the two as Sam untied the sling and helped Niki get situated with Tommy. Tommy seemed a bit too tired to really fight it, but when Sam pulled his hands away, he furrowed his small brow and held out a hand in Sam’s direction, letting out a whimper-like breath.

“Aw, Tommy…it’s okay, I’ll be right back I promise…and Fran will be here, and Niki. Niki is really sweet I promise.” Sam let the other hold his finger, ears lowering in an attempt not to make too big of a display of affection in front of Niki. “I’ll give you all the nuzzles you want when I’m back.” He gently cooed, flushing slightly as Niki smiled knowingly at him.

Fran came quickly when called, joining Niki and Tommy on the couch and gently laying her muzzle over Tommy’s lap, which soon became the boy’s pillow. “If he gets feverish give him a small dose of the fever medicine. There’s ice in the freezer if it gets bad, oh and I made him some snacks—“

“It’ll be okay, Sam.” Niki chuckled softly, “It’s okay. You’re only leaving to shower, he should be fine, and I know how to take care of kids, even sick ones.”

Sam paused and laughed nervously, “Ri-Right, sorry Niki…I’ll try not to be long.” He turned, glancing back at Tommy to make sure he wasn’t anxious before he disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Sam wasn’t the one that was supposed to have separation anxiety.

So why was he so anxious without that little weight on his shoulder? He sighed, forehead pressing against the shower tile as lukewarm water ran down his back.

Focus on the soothing things.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, watching as water pitter-pattered onto the deepslate tile beneath his feet. He closed his eyes, imagining what life could be like if Tommy’s curse gets broken.

He imagined warm summer afternoons, faces buried in watermelon rinds and giggling when fireflies fluttered by. Leaf piles in the fall, flurries of laughter and warm apple cider. Snowmen and sledding in the winter with hot chocolate and sweet marshmallows. Springtime puddles and croaking frogs on lily pads.

It was warm, cozy and potentially theirs.

And best of all, he wouldn’t be alone anymore.

He’d have a kid.

He opened his eyes, moving his hand to the shower handle so he could shut the supply off. “…” He stared at the drip from the emptied spout, eventually releasing it and stepping out of the shower so he could get dry.

He ruffled his hair in a hand towel, throwing on his usual style of clothes before stopping to look at himself in the mirror.

He was supposed to be the calm, cool, and collected one. More like a big brother than a…

Father.

He stared at himself, slowly placing his hands onto the counter and staring at his features. Realistically, Sam shouldn’t be taking on this kind of responsibility. He was in his 20’s, barely legal to drink and certainly had been mostly focused on having fun at this point in his life.

He stepped back, slowly squeezing his dripping tail in his towel and looking at what he was presenting himself as. He looked cozy, like someone his loved ones could lean on; at the same time he looked professional, like he could take up his guardian duties at any moment and protect the settlement like he was trained to.

He was a guardian to protect everyone in their server.

He stood straight, but soon relaxed back into his somewhat slouched state.

Do I even need to be a father? There’s still a chance we’re able to find his family.

He ran his fingers over the stubble on his jaw, thoughtful expression on his face. Did it matter how he felt in this situation? Well, it did. But, what mattered more here is that Tommy needed family. And he could be that until further notice.

He flicked his tail, the damp and wet fur flinging from side to side as he dumped his dirty clothes in the nearby hamper.

When he finally left the steamy room, the two starlight hues met his, and his worries melted away again.

That’s my kid.

Tommy’s face brightened, lifting his head and pushing his arms against Fran’s head even when his hands shook from the effort.

Sam smiled, walking over to the three cozy individuals and kneeled beside them, patting Fran and nodding to Niki. It was such a relief to have the little bundle tucked against his chest again, causing a quiet, low warble to roll in his throat.

“Couldn’t stay gone long. I missed my big, brave man.”

---

So thats it!

i just realized i used a speech-to-text for the outline LMAO i do not think you guys will wanna read it. i did a challenge of drawing and writing at the same time and that's what i did, but it was poorly LMAO

Um, if you guys really want me to clean it up let me know and i'll post that separately. It won't be super fantastic but i'll go over the main points!

find the companion fic "Boar Brothers" [which is also not finished] here.

[leconcombrerit]

This thing had been rotting in my files for a year (minus three weeks but that's basically a year). It was a redraw of one of my first ever pieces for this fandom, and I still find it quite okay if a little stiff in places, so I thought I might as well share it since I don't draw that much anymore.

And then I had second thoughts, which obviously led to me posting it anyway, as you can see, but I realized I've almost made it a point not to draw anything related to Sasi anymore. As in at all. I can't, and I don't want to, and even sharing old art feels a bit 'meh'. It's too directly linked to my long going art block.

What I mean by that is that if I took all the followers I have out there and asked them what they know me or initially followed me for, you might have a fair amount of Lis 2 and the occasional Desert Bluffs afficionados, but you'd get an overwhelming majority of Sanders Sides. Sanders Sides fashion posts even. I was by no means famous for it or anything, but at my small artist scale, it was the biggest success I had.

And it makes it much harder to go back to it at all now. One, because I don't give a damn about the show anymore. Two, because I haven't been properly obsessing over anything in a while (there was a series early this year but given the actual emotional distress I get thinking about it I'm ruling it out). I haven't had real engagement from my own brain, nor real engagement from a broad audience -which makes sense, I'm not posting for anything that will reach a broad audience. But it takes its toll regardless.

Even when I finally finished writing a long fic, I couldn't help but feel 'all this for what ? Ten people or so and two hundreds have dropped it ?'. Which is a bad way to think about stuff you write for your own enjoyment but, you know, the brain gets happy with external validation even if you pretend really hard you don't care.

And so it feels tempting to go back to the golden goose just the time to get the creative juice pumping back, and I try, and I always end up frustrated and angry and feeling even less like making art that before. I'm not having fun with Sasi. Like an old friend you have nothing to say to and yet you have so much to say otherwise, so you get a bit frustrated, you know ? Not sure I'm making much sense, but that's how it feels. I want to have something like that again, but it won't be with Sanders Sides, and I somehow just want if off my radar.

It was left hanging, then lost its spark, and then I stopped caring altogether and I most likely won't even watch the finale when it does come out. I'm over it. I wish I wasn't though, because it does feel like the artistic spark won't come back all on its own this time, and the buzzing community made it so much easier to bounce back and do shit when your brain got wired all wrong.

It sounds like I'm just bawling after love and likes and stuff, and I guess that's part of it, in a way ? Like I'm in no place to do things for myself, and seeing the one thing I used to use to get back in the flow giving me a bored sense of dread doesn't feel too great.

Yet this drawing is still good ! I find it good ! I don't remember everything, but I can tell from the looks of it that I spent a while on it ! It's nice ! I should celebrate that. So I'm sharing it. I think it will be the last piece of Sasi I ever share, though. I'm not watching the finale when it comes out. I don't care about it. I'll just keep doodling my OCs and characters from cool books every once in a while. I'll write little things.

I just really, really need to stop trying to go back to it when it's clearly not working and not even for good reasons. It was a fun ride though ! So yeah. Basically. A whole ass rant for a one year old piece of art. I'm in my bi-annual depresso mood, nothing too surprising there.

[transhawks]

Why does everyone treat Hawks having always been an assassin as canon? I know he was brought in as a replacement for Nagant but as far as I’m aware there’s no actual proof he killed anyone before twice

You're right! We've never been explicitly told he has a kill-count of anything but 1 (rip Jin). However (honestly you knew this would make me actually write, didn't you?)....

1. The HSPC has changed (somewhat)

It's spelled out to us that Madame Prez wasn't like her predecessor. Her methods weren't as brutal, she was way into a war of information. In some ways, crueler. Kaina wasn't executed - instead she had her hair shorn and was defamed, humiliated.

Nagant assumes Keigo has been used like her. Horikoshi says Madame Prez groomed Keigo from a much earlier age than the middle school-aged Kaina so he had way less ability to leave or question (additionally, he was so sheltered from society and marginalized that he simply would have been incapable until he was an adult).

This is what the story says outright. So, yes, you're right - everything else is speculation. But then the question is why people believe this is canon outside of the typical abysmal literacy found in this fandom?

2. But Hawks being Hawks doesn't Make It Easier

Truth be told, I'm on your side. I used to very much doubt he had much of a body/kill count. I still think it might be single digits if we consider actually murdering someone with his own hands/quirk, though I suspect he might be responsible for deaths in other ways. I would have completely accepted Jin being his first (and only at this point) murder.

So why did I change my mind about this? Simply; Keigo's a fucking freak. I say this with love.

Every so often Keigo says or does something in this manga that both confirms he's kind of insane and in a very different moral space than everyone else, and just off-handedly mentioning he went and, after being subjected to third degree burns and essentially losing limbs, immediately went to eliminate every last sample even after the battle (where he was carried off by Tokoyami mind you) as in....destroying Jin's body or ensuring no one can use it. He's offended when it's clear Dabi got the better of him with this.

Mind you, he's the world champion at repressing his feelings, duh, but the fascinating way he speaks about this (a minute after screaming they NEED TO KILL JIN AGAIN) speaks volumes. Keigo's completely undaunted about handling death and its aftermath. If he's never killed before, he's been certainly trained to in a way that he handles it professionally.

There's one more thing that makes me think Keigo did kill before Jin. We can argue over how much Keigo hesitated killing Jin, but I think it's a point in that he did in how much he ABSOLUTELY does not with All For One.

Like he does not hesitate. Immediately tries to put a feather-knife through his brain. Logically, I mean, I think anyone would try to one-shot AFO because the more time the man that has (until he rewound himself) the more time he has to fuck you up, but still. He tries to stab through his man's head as soon as he gets out of the portal.

Here's Keigo just admitting it, albeit saying he expected it wouldn't work, but really, he's more apologizing he can't immediately kill this man.

No hesitance.

My final piece of evidence is that Keigo is currently walking around Japan in a suit with a katana begging mfers to "try it bitch". Like being quirkless, not a hero, none of that is stopping him if he needs to defend himself. And it's not like he can pin someone away with his feathers. Nor does he have dozens of daggers at his disposal anymore, just one blade. He's the type to try and finish things quickly as the manga has shown time and time again. I really hope no one actually tries to assassinate him because there's an extreme likelihood he'll just decapitate them in the SPC boardroom.

3. Red, Red Hands

To recap, we know Keigo has been trained to kill, in a multitude of ways (and not only with his quirk), and has always seen killing as option/tool he can use. The HSPC might not be as eager to kill as Kaina's era was, but they raised Keigo with the intent to use him to be able to kill people and cover it up. While there's no proof of other murders, there's proof he's been given the training, tools, and expectation to kill. And his attitude towards killing isn't making it seem like he's not done it before. Of course, he's not agonizing over it like Kaina, which makes me think he was used sparingly to kill.

But the other thing to ask is - will Keigo continue to kill (and not like in personal defense) or lead to the deaths of others? He's already set on reforming the Public Safety Commission by allowing for the reform of Villains who cooperate, renaming the Commission to distance itself from solely heroism... We're still a few chapters away of seeing what this new president has in store for society and how he'll distinguish his methods from the people who created him, but we also have two hundred and fifty chapters of him expressing dislike of how he's used, so perhaps it's fair to say he's not continuing the cycle?

[justxtalking]

my thoughts on this hxh ABCD mess

Being a Togashi fan is such a roller-coaster of emotions. I think I went through all the stages of grief in only one day.

Half of me believes he's trolling.

To be honest, it's better to just take it with a light heart. Togashi is known for joking around about himself, his health and his own story. (I wasn't in the fandom at that moment, but I wonder how everyone reacted when he said everyone was going to die). I consider ending D to be so uncharacteristically him for so many reasons I could talk for hours about it. I find it ironic how he gave a stereotypical-shonen-like ending when he talked several times (even in this interview) about how he likes to surprise himself (and his readers) when he writes. Some other times he explained he likes to play with these shonen stereotypes and just do something different. I mean, he's been doing it since the beginning of his career.

And I'll be honest, ending D sounds like a mockery of shounen.

(And I feel a bit dumb taking this so seriously if he's joking.)

(Though, this also may be the case of "the boy who cried wolf" and he's actually saying the truth this time.)

The other half of me thinks he's being honest.

If he is actually giving us a back-up ending, I find it incredibly sad. Not only because of his health, but also because he felt pressured enough to give us an ending, no matter its form and no matter if it's an ending he doesn't even consider anymore. He shouldn't have been on that position.

It is important to take into account that this is not an ending he wants or even considers anymore, it is an ending we can take if he's not able to finish HunterXHunter. We need to realize there's a lot of circumstances we don't know about or may not be considering for him to give us this ending as an option at that moment. And what type of ending too.

I seriously want for him to be able to finish Hunter X Hunter the way he truly wants, not worrying about anything else. He's thinking about three plausible scenarios that may see the light of day or not. And no matter what he ends up choosing, he should choose whatever he wants. It's his story, no ours. And it may even be his last story (I know it's sad, I want him to keep on writing forever, but it's true). Honestly, a part of me wants him to choose the A scenario because that's where seems to be less drama, but actually I want him to choose the C scenario. Even if that ending is Gon married to a lizard with beautiful lizard-babies in the Dark Continent. And that's because that ending is what he would actually want to do with the story.

(I really am curious about it, though. I know I wouldn't be able to guess even in a million years, but I'm still curious. And I so want to read the whole interview and see the whole episode, since there were more questions about other things.)

For the shippers

I know this feels like a punch in the gut or something even worst. I felt it too. And it's totally valid to feel like we do and not agreeing with ending D. Even as a non-shipper because what do you mean, Gon did what?

Everyone who follows me knows I'm a proud Killugon and Leopika shipper. And I will keep on being one even if Hunter X Hunter transforms into Boruto and I have to see Grandpa Gon (the more I say it, the more it sounds like a joke).

Honestly, I always considered the gay ships were never going to be explicitly canon.(Kishimoto traumatized me). Not because of lack of material, but because there's a whole context and a lot of external circumstances we sometimes forget about (and Kishimoto traumatized me). There was a reason why Togashi couldn't make his queer manga in the 90s, which, I'm sorry, I don't consider it to be that long ago. And there is a reason why he can't explicitly say that characters like Pouf or Hisoka are gay (despite being totally obvious and them being villains).

I still find it admirable how Togashi included so many queer elements in his stories and got away with it. And he's a mangaka that does shonen. And not just any shonen, a battle manga in Shonen Jump. (He included a trans man in Level E and made him transition. The way Togashi explains some things about this character may be a bit problematic, but Togashi still did this). And those queer elements are still there and are still as canon as when he wrote it the first time. Pouf is as gay as he is dramatic. And Ging and Pariston still have that sexual tension (and I'm 100% sure they fucked or they are going to fuck in the near future or both). And Killua is still the queerest boy I've seen in the longest time.

Sometimes, I think there's a possibility of Killugon being canon. But only because of Togashi's history and tastes. He may feel a bit rebellious and just go with it, he's so unpredictable that I'm always expecting anything and everything from him (I mean, he did what he did with Hisoka and Illumi and so many other things). However, he's an introvert, I'm not sure if he actually wants the attention he would get if he actually goes with it. And that is something we should also respect. (I do think the most plausible option is Killugon to be as ambiguous as they are now.)

In relation to ending D, I don't think we should worry that much. At the end of the day, it is an ending he doesn't consider anymore. (At least we can sleep well knowing that the ending he wants to do doesn't have to do with Grandpa Gon). What's important is what he writes and does in the manga. That is what speaks louder than anything.

Though, I do think it's going to be a pain in the ass interacting with other fans. I'm not looking forward to it. (At least they are going to stop saying that Kurapika will die, I hope!). What I'm looking forward to is the new Killugon content in the fandom.

My personal take

Gon =/= Ging. I could say a lot about this, since one of the things I love the most about Hunter X Hunter is what he did with these two and Gon's arc, but I think this is clear enough.

So!

After saying all of this, I think the only thing we should consider as canon is the manga. If he doesn't write it, it didn't happen.

If he's saying the truth, he may be thinking about how to finish Hunter X Hunter sooner or later. Even though so many fans say that they want an ending, I feel like we are not ready. Not even for Gon marrying a lizard and having beautiful lizard-babies in the Dark Continent.

I hope I was coherent enough. I have no answers, only thoughts and thoughts! I feel like we can only speculate and ending D is so confusing because how did we even get there?

I may be going through all the stages of grief again tomorrow, but I wanted to share my thoughts (at least partially). I may erase it if I feel too uncomfortable, but yeah!

Conclusion: Let's just take it with a light heart and wait to see what happens! (I know it's hard).

[etinceelle]

Okay so, just so you know: DIllon Goo is friends with one of THE biggest RWDEs on the internet, the one who came up with the "Monty's Vision" creed so many people spout.

If he got his hands on the show, there'd be no Bumbleby, no Nuts and Dolts, nothing like that. It would be COMPLETELY unrecognizeable.

If he doesn't just reboot the show, everyone would hate Team RWBY for "betraying" Ironwood, Robyn Hill and the Happy Huntresses would be treated as irredeemable villains, and Team RWBY's arcs would be based around having to "accept that they were wrong to defy Ironwood" and then "learning to obey authority".

It would not be RWBY anymore.

I appreciate people for telling me because I wasn't aware of this story. I should also say that a lot of people in the fandom should understand that not everyone know about every detail and event that happened in the RWBY history, especially for people like me who discovered the series way later. Just thought I might say it just in case because I saw some people talk about it as if we're supposed to know when that's not the case.

If I can tell my honest opinion it's that at the moment it's too early to confirm anything. This might not happen, this might happen, we don't know, and I don't want to jump to any conclusions or fast opinions with only a few infos I got yesterday and today about that. From what I know this behavior came from Shane, but even if he's friend with Dillon this guy cannot call the shots alone. I think the best thing would be for current CRWBY to be able to finish the story like THEY wanted, like they first imagined it with Monty, and how they imagined it so far. I honestly don't know what good option could be because at the moment it's probably the only interested buyer and the one that fits the best for the show's style. If CRWBY express discomfort and refuse to go for that way for the reasons people told me about, then let respect that because they'll be the one to decide in the end.

I like Dillon Goo and their animations, that's why I supported the idea, but in the end it's for CRWBY to decide and no one else. If they think there might be a problem and they might ruin everything, that's for them to decide.

I should also mention that people's behaviors using events for their arguments is their responsability. On this aspect I'm not aware of everything so I only speak with what I know. But there will always be people who will also distort stuff to be able to use it their favor.

As for the ships, Bumbleby is canon already, undoing that would be really stupid and would sign the end of the story. And Nuts and Dolts isn't canon, it's the fantasy of a lot of people included mine but we don't even think if this was planned to be canon or not at some point, from what I know that's not the case. I understand what you mean because this is not just about ships here, but I'm not gonna jump to conclusions with how little infos I got at the moment

With all of that said, I just hope for a good conclusion for everyone.

[stupendousghostswan]

EDIT : I leant of the ship they pushed upon the fans. I am not laughing anymore. FUCK CANON. Arf, I really think it but will need some time. Emotions are high. (respect to their shippers. Ship and let ship. It's that they pulled it in canon like that that bothers me.)

Gonna be honest : that tua has such a bad ending is a relief in a way. It really finally not just takes the show down from its pedestal but burries it deeeeep down. And it makes it so much easier to say "fuck canon". I was stressed before this s4 , if it was good I would have struggled with saying fuck canon and dare to finally post things. Cause it means that I would have faced backlash and had to potentially face pple and get into arguments. Which with my social anxiety and extreme fatigue I just didn't feel like doing. Maybe it's a poor excuse to some but I struggle a lot with social interactions...

Now I just don't care. (I am sorry though for the people that still really cared about the show. For me this show sinked in s2. It fell out of its pedestal back then for me x). So I made my peace with the disappointment... mostly.)

And... I've been eating at myself since I fell into Fiveya/Vanya and it became my main special interest -which any other autistic I think will understand what being THE special interest means.-. I was struggling, terrified of potential backlash and thinking I'd never get to post and share anything, also that this side of the fandom was dead or dormant forever and would always stay so. I felt very alone, I really felt like I couldn't share, due to the fear of backlash. I couldn't even bring myself to try to give a bit to the fandom myself. (I know a big big big part of it was my own imposed limitations. Also I could have maybe dmed the pple I guessed where still in this ship, etc. But I have very bad social anxiety and extreme fatigue and other things so I can't fight the very bad social anxiety for this on top of... dealing with the rest of my life.)

But now I feel such relief and freedom suddenly. I care but also I don't... idk.

So me laughing at this shit ending - as I've been doing for a few hours now - is half a laugh of relief and... bc seriously to beat both GOT and supernatural?!

Now I am not saying I am actually gonna post anything anytime soon. I am excited and under lots of endorphins and dopamine here. But my social anxiety and lack of confidence might catch up very soon 🙈 (spoiler: THEY DID). Plus, I still find my ideas pretty uninteresting and still struggle to finish stuff and struggles a lot with confidence sooo... (and still scared of backlash).

ok also sorry but not posting this on main. I don't have this courage. This is a side account (not side blog, but full on account. I set it up months ago, waiting to either become brave or for the general fandom to die.)

I am already feeling anxiety coming back and itching to write a 3 thousand words disclaimer and explanation of certain things 😭 So i will force myself to do it quickly : I love Viktor (and fiktor) but also love fiveya and Vanya. For me they are separate paper dolls. When taking the Viktor paper doll, that is a trans man, it means obviously taking the trans experience. aka he was always there, etc. But the "existence" of his doll for me doesn't negate the "existence" of the Vanya doll. They don't really exist. It's fiction. Purely fiction. It's not one real person. The Vanya doll was used then they decided to create and use the Viktor doll.

Ok I stop there. I do not come back to edit. I do not come back to edit and/or delete. I post it and not let it lie in my drafts and have eternal regrets. Go on. Be brave. Be brave. Be brave.

(I have already spent at least two hours typing and editing before getting the courage to post it...)

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Lily of the Valley

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Jason Todd dies and comes back to life. As the League takes him in, he navigates his morality and family values over the years.

Chapters: 10/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Talia al Ghul, Ra’s al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Sheila Haywood

Relationships: Jason Todd/Original Character(s)

Additional Tags: Immortal Jason Todd, League of Assassins Jason Todd, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Protective Talia al Ghul, Good Parent Talia al Ghul, Jason Todd Needs a Hug, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Adopted Children, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Claustrophobia, Child Death, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Resurrected Jason Todd

Chapter Ten: Blue Iris

Jason woke up in his apartment and struggled to remember the most recent events of that night. His hands shook so violently he thought he'd died again, but his body didn't hurt. It couldn't have been death. The last thing he could remember was the sunset, but it was pitch black now. He finished cleaning the apartment and scrubbing it of any evidence of his existence before returning to the one place he could never imagine wanting to see. His old apartment. He climbed up the fire escape to the window and peeked inside. The apartment was empty, save a few candles and what appeared to be a vigil. He wondered who it was for. There were no pictures, just a few votive candles, flowers, and old beat-up shoes. It was when Jason noticed the sneakers that he put two-and-two together. They were his shoes. That was his memorial.

His head spun as he fled the area. Tears poured down Jason's face as he remembered how hopeless he felt the last time he was home. He remembered how he lay on the mattress on the floor, talking to Catherine, thinking that he'd join her and the noise of the world and all its sufferings would end. He remembered the dull ache in his chest as he slipped away.

That pain was cardiac arrest. Jason knew that now. Still, physical pain had a foreseeable end. Emotional pain persisted. It found new ways to puncture and bruise. As he ran blindly from the scene of his memorial, he ran into the street. He despised Gotham. The sound of car horns and cursing commuters pulled him back, and he made his way down an alley and up to the roof of one of the buildings in Gotham. He swallowed hard as he sat atop the industrial building, smoke in his eyes, hair, and lungs as he cried. "What do you want?" Jason wept.

"To talk... You okay?" a man's voice asked. Jason shook his head. "You've got good ears if you heard me coming."

Jason pulled his hood up over his head. He didn't want to be seen, but he wanted to look at the face of the man speaking to him. The man had a gymnast's build, and he was masked. A vigilante. "Who are you?" Jason asked.

"Nightwing," the man whispered, "I needed a new start a few years ago." Jason nodded.

"I had a new start too, but it doesn't make it any easier. Returning to Gotham is like returning to the scene of a crime," Jason muttered. Nightwing sat next to Jason on the ledge. "I haven't spoken to anybody since I've been back."

"Visiting?" Nightwing questioned. Jason shook his head.

"Working... Family business," Jason replied.

"Did something happen to you here?" Dick questioned.

"You could say that yeah... Wait. You needed a new start... You're Robin," Jason whispered. He would've been starstruck a few years ago, but he wasn't a child. Or at least he didn't feel like one anymore. "I dreamt about being you when I was a kid..."

"You are a kid," Nightwing whispered.

Jason drove his fist into the stone ledge, bruising his knuckles. "I'm not a child! I haven't been a child in years!" Jason yelled. Nightwing held out his hands to calm Jason.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by that," Nightwing whispered, "Can I see your hand?"

"It's not broken," Jason muttered, "And I know you didn't mean anything by it... I just-. I want to stop feeling like this, but the more I try to make the pain disappear, the worse it gets."

"Maybe you need to talk about it," Nightwing suggested. Jason shrugged and shook his head.

"No... I need to get away from here. I've gotta tough it out a few more days until I can go home," Jason whispered, "But I don't mind the company." Nightwing smiled.

They sat together until sunrise, and Jason whispered about finishing his work. He watched as Nightwing exited, and he disappeared into the alley. Speaking to another living person soothed him enough to help him collect his things. When he arrived back at the apartment, there were EMTs and police everywhere. A hand slipped off a covered stretcher, and Jason recognized the watch. Garzonas. Jason's lips twitched into a smile, and he went on to the hotel. He carried his gear out of the hotel and tipped the staff for their hospitality.

Once he got back to the apartment, the police and EMTs cleared out, allowing Jason to go back to his apartment. He took his bags and paid off the landlord on his way out. Then Jason went to the store. He'd be on his own in the wilderness outside Gotham for five more days. Jason bought some camping supplies and took a cab halfway to the location, choosing to walk the rest of the way. He hiked up a hill into a wooded area near the pickup site and made camp. There was a nearby stream where he washed up, and as the sunlight bounced off his skin, he remembered his training.

He remembered the feeling of the ocean on his skin back on the island and how he and Damian used to swim in the warm waters. Sometimes they'd lie in the sand, drying off in the sun. That was home. No memorials, no graves, and no smog. He couldn't wait to return there. Thoughts of his home gave him solace after a tumultuous five days, and it proved to be just enough comfort to get him through the next five. The jet arrived at three in the morning, and Jason awoke just in time to meet eyes with Talia. She stood at the bottom of the steps, waiting for him. "Mama," Jason whispered.

They ran toward each other and embraced one another. "Washatiini," Jason whispered. Talia squeezed his face in her palms.

"I missed you too, my darling... Why are you crying?" Talia questioned as she ran her thumbs against his cheeks. "Jason..." He hugged her a second time, but he refused to let go.

"I want to go home," Jason whimpered. Talia kissed the top of his head. "Mama, I'm so tired..."

"Come along," Talia whispered as she led him into the jet, and he took his seat. "I'm glad you kept your promise."

"Thank you for coming to get me, Mama," Jason whispered as he closed his eyes. She felt his forehead with the back of her hand.

"You're warm," Talia whispered. He'd already fallen asleep. Talia had someone bring him a blanket shortly before they took off. She tucked the blanket in around him before buckling his safety belt. When the plane took off, Jason's eyes shot open, and Talia placed a hand on his chest to steady him. "It's going to be alright, sweet boy. We're going home." Jason mouthed the word to himself before sinking back into his seat.

"Mama, how is Di?" Jason asked.

"He asks about you every day... He'll be so surprised to see you," Talia whispered. Jason smiled.

"I missed him so much," Jason whispered, "And Ra's... Is he-."

"Impressed with how quickly you've completed your mission... Jason, he's not upset with you for killing Garzonas's son," Talia whispered. Jason shook his head.

"I didn't-. Did I? How do you know he's dead?" Jason asked.

Talia knit her brows together. "Mama, I-. If I did, I don't remember. I promise I'm not lying-."

"Jason, you told us what you did. You called the other number. You don't remember?" Talia asked. Jason shook his head, and she gently parted his thick curls with her fingers as she looked for any scarring or bruises. She felt the side of his head, and he winced. "Turn toward me, little one." Jason obeyed, and she had him lay his head against the seat. Talia parted his hair to reveal a bruise around slightly broken skin. "Does this hurt?" Talia questioned as she pressed her fingers around the bruise. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

"Mama, I-."

"It's alright, shǎ zhū," Talia whispered as she kissed his forehead. "When we get home, we'll have your head looked at." Talia held her palm to his cheek, and he leaned into her hand. It was warm and familiar. Finally, there was light again.

[darkkitty1208]

The past few weeks before I finally returned from my unofficial hiatus, I've lost a lot of my motivation to write and anything to do with being part of the fandom as a whole. I contemplated quitting and never returning again, deleting all my works and socials and any other trace of me anyone could find, but I know that it's just the anxiety talking and my brain playing tricks with me due to IRL stress and that logically, I *do* have a place here in the fandom space. So I held back.

Now that I'm here again -- and have been welcomed very warmly by dear friends -- the urge to create has finally come around again and I want to get back into writing. It's just that, god, I feel very rusty. It's been quite a while and I feel like the words have run away from me after not using them for so long. I look into my mostly-abandoned WIPs and I can't find the right way to continue them.

But despite that, I decided to do a bit of the good ol' self-projecting and started a WIP (instead of finishing my old ones, lol). It's not much, but it's something. I felt compelled to share in hopes it would motivate me to write some more. This is all I've got so far, and it is admittedly very rough, but it's getting there.

~

Here’s the thing: healing isn't linear.

These are words repeated over and over again by those who you wouldn't think ever even had to heal. They're the kind of words that would lose its meaning the more they're said, and have you start wondering if to some people, they ever had any sort of meaning to begin with.

You can never really tell where it starts or where it finishes, or how it happened or if it ever did happen, the same way the flawed five stages of grief could never explain the true act of mourning and the same way your every emotion defies anything your logic could ever tell you.

Sometimes, Stephen finds, some things are just unexplainable like that.

Sometimes, Stephen doesn't think he's capable of healing. Sometimes, especially in nights where every bit of his sanity starts to fall apart and each choking breath would sting as it enters his damned lungs, he thinks he's too far gone to be capable of it at all.

(Sometimes he would sit silently and stare into nothing, thinking about the way nobody would understand that at some point in his life, he wasn't the man he used to be anymore. Sometimes he could feel it, the thing that consumed him, that took away who he was, and the way it would take up every space in his ribcage and burn his insides like acid, the way it would rip apart the space in his chest where his heart used to be. Sometimes he would think about it, and the way that it makes him nothing but an empty shell of a man. Every day that thing would grow inside of him and one day, it might ruin him; as if he isn't already far too broken to begin with.)

But it's here, in the roof of a sentient building he's grown to call his home where various pots are neatly arranged in small shelves, with his trembling fingers digging into rich soil and dirt sticking underneath his fingernails, that he starts to find proof that maybe, he had the capability after all.

It's here that he understands why humans would pick up a trowel and spend so much time getting on their hands and knees to dirty themselves with grimes of dirt.

There's something about the green of the Earth and the smell of her moist dirt in the early mornings, damp from the moon's tears, that soothes a part of him that he couldn't quite identify. There's something comforting about the mindless action of digging and burying and placing and watering. There's something comforting about knowing that his damaged fingers could sprout life even if it all depended on time.

But that's the thing, isn't it? Everything is just a matter of time.

(Sometimes he wishes healing isn't linear, the way he wishes time doesn't march on an ascending line.)

He remembers the same damp smell of moss and the same smudges of dirt on the knees of his trousers back then, the first time he was taught about gardening and farming and sprouting life from seeds.

He had still been a small boy in Nebraska, back then. He had been young, and he had never understood patience the way he does now. He didn't understand that what he planted was something that, if anything, was considered a miracle, and that miracles took time, and that miracles don't last forever. He didn't understand that life and decay is just a matter of time, and that everything including himself would eventually be nothing but rotting flesh and cracked bones, becoming one with the earth and consumed by the maggots and mushrooms.

Because that's the thing: everything is just a matter of time.

The experience had meant nothing to him then, and had taught him nothing much of anything at all, but it means something to him now.

[jayzfort]

Curiosity || A. S. Potter

Faceclaim- Dylan Kingwell

"You've got to tell me, that this whole thing- Isn't just your curiosity. Please, tell me that its more than that. Please."

A/N- this is probably my first entirely completed one shot? I know that many people aren't into the harry potter next generation fandom anymore, but I'll be honest, I'm in love with Albus Severus Potter 🫶🏻

I had a bit of a grudge against the Potters and the Weasleys, but hate me if you must. I mean, I get it, they're heroes for saving the Wizarding world and all. But their kids- they act like they're the kings and queens of Hogwarts, strutting around like they own the place. And everyone's clamoring to be their friend.

But what about the folks who got caught up unfairly after the war, you know? What about them? And with a Weasley or a Potter in practically every class, it's kind of hard to speak out against the crowd.

I found myself in a bit of a spat with the "golden trio" from the Weasley-Potter crew: Roxanne, Fred, and James. We're all in the same year, they're Gryffindors. They thought it'd be hilarious to dye all the Slytherin robes gold and red, playing up that age-old rivalry between the houses.

Hexes flew, points were docked, and detentions were dished out.

I found myself scrubbing the potions room alongside one of the OWL-level students who had volunteered for the task. Honestly, I only took Potions because it was a requirement for a Ministry job, but now I was seriously regretting it.

And wouldn't you know it, the fifth-year student paired with me was none other than Albus Severus Potter, younger brother to James Sirius Potter and cousin to Fred and Roxanne.

As I scrubbed cauldrons alongside Roxanne, I couldn't help but notice James, Fred, and Albus goofing around nearby. This was supposed to be detention, not some family reunion.

Rolling my eyes, I went to stack the dried cauldrons back on the shelves. As I did, I overheard Fred whispering to the Potter brothers.

"Did you hear what Wendy McGillick said about her? She hates all happy families because she doesn't have one."

Honestly, how these rumors differed from the truth, I'd never understand.

"You've gotta get your facts right, Weasley," I interjected, unable to hold back. "Besides, you know McGillick. She'd do anything to please her recent shag, even if it ranges from lying about a dormmate's life or faking an orgasm."

James burst into a fit of laughter, while his brother, at the back, offered only a soft smile. It made me wonder if he was as intolerable as the rest of his family.

Returning to scrubbing cauldrons with Roxanne, I caught her giving me a look, one I couldn't quite decipher. Was it pity? Concern? Confusion?

"What's on your mind, Weasley? If you weren't dating Bradley Woods, I'd think that stare of yours was insinuating something," I remarked to Roxanne.

She scoffed and rejoined her family, who seemed to have finished their tasks in the potions room.

"Lock up, Rowle," she muttered as she grabbed her bag and headed out the door. I finished up the last of the cleaning, only to realize that the golden trio had left something—or rather, someone—behind. Albus Potter.

"Potter? Why aren't you with your family? They just left a few minutes ago. If you hurry, you might catch up with them," I said to him.

He hesitated, as if wanting to say something, but in the end, he simply nodded and left the room.

I pondered if Albus might have selective mutism, but quickly dismissed the thought, considering he was currently serving as the appointed Gryffindor prefect.

This wasn't the first time he'd attempted to speak to me but failed. The second instance was when I was tutoring another of his cousins, Molly Weasley. She was a bright student, albeit with a touch of ego, but I let it slide because of her excellence in Charms.

"You're so good at Charms, why did Flitwick assign you a tutor?" I inquired of Molly.

"I'm good at the theoretical part, but my wand movements aren't accurate enough," she explained.

"They would be if you'd actually do some spells, Mols," a voice chimed in. I turned to see Rose Weasley, with Albus trailing behind her, burdened with four heavy books.

"It's illegal to do spells outside school," Molly retorted.

As the banter between Rose and Molly continued, I turned to Albus and remarked, "Wilderwal's guide to excelling in Transfiguration, huh? That's a solid set of books. But when I was preparing for the OWLs, I used Nook's OWL Helper."

He simply nodded, as if about to say something, when Rose called to him, and he hurried out of the room.

"Does he have some kind of mutism?" I asked Molly.

"Who? Al? No, he's just very shy," she replied.

There were moments during tutoring when I felt truly happy. It felt like a blessing to pass down knowledge to someone younger or in need of a little help.

The week before Christmas, as everyone was packing to leave, I received an envelope from Molly. Inside was her Charms test, marked with an E. A letter fell into my lap, and it read:

Dear Rowle,

Merry Early Christmas. I wanted to show you my Charms test in person, but I had to leave early for Christmas, like every year, the whole family is gathering, so I couldn't miss it.

I'm really grateful for all the help you've given me, so please accept this as a token of gratitude.

Love,

Molly Weasley

PS - Albus hasn't stopped talking about his embarrassing moment with you.

Laughing, I unwrapped the small box and pulled out a pair of earrings shaped like the golden snitch.

The earrings were adorable, and they ended up being the only Christmas present I received.

As everyone prepared to depart for the holidays, the Great Hall was bustling with activity, filled with trunks and people exchanging hugs, promising to keep in touch over Christmas.

I made my usual decision to stay behind, as I did every year. However, this time, an unexpected person made the same choice. Albus? Didn't he have a family gathering to attend?

As everyone else departed, the headcount of those staying dwindled to ten: Albus, Henry, and Bradley Wood, Fidela MacMillan, the Patil triplets, Scorpius Malfoy, Natasha Meyers, and myself.

I tapped Albus on the arm, noticing his height towering above most of his cousins. He turned around, looking surprised to see me.

"Why aren't you at the station? Don't you have a family Christmas to attend?" I inquired.

Well, it seemed the boy could actually speak.

"Uh, yeah. I just didn't feel like going. Needed a break from attending it for 15 years straight. Plus, Scorp is staying, and, you know, Meyers is staying," he rambled.

Meyers and Malfoy? Who would've known.

"Why are you staying?" he asked me, and I could see the instant regret flicker across his face as I raised an eyebrow at his question. Deciding to keep my response brief, I replied, "I stay back every year. Nothing new."

He simply nodded. Just a nod. Molly was right; he was indeed shy, unlike half of his cousins who I was accustomed to, who were obnoxiously loud. This one seemed tolerable.

He bid goodbye in such a soft whisper that I might have missed it if I had been even a centimeter farther away. Watching his retreating figure, I couldn't shake this feeling of curiosity, this desire to know more about him.

"Miss Rowle, I suppose Mr. Potter has caught your curiosity?" I heard Professor Parkinson, the potions teacher, say to me. As the head of the Slytherin house, she was well-informed about, well, my family.

Considering how Professor Parkinson had also been through a similar situation to mine, I felt she was one of the teachers I could rely on. No wonder Professor Slughorn personally recommended her to the Headmistress.

"No, Professor, nothing like that. It's just that he's different from the rest of his family, which caught me off guard. Nothing about curiosity, besides, he's two years younger. I can't possibly be friends with him. And he's a Gryffindor," I added, emphasizing the last part.

The next morning, I realized I had nothing to do except tackle the one-thousand-word Potions essay on the Mandrake Potion due after the winter break. Heading to the library, I greeted Madam Pince and scanned the vast space for a seat.

Considering there were only ten students staying back, I expected the library to be entirely empty. But it wasn't. Potter was buried in heaps of textbooks, engrossed in his reading, his hair falling over his eyes. I fought the urge to push it back for him.

Taking a seat next to him, he briefly glanced up and then around the library.

"If you want, I can sit somewhere else," I offered, starting to rise from my chair. He immediately shot up, creating an echo in the already quiet library, prompting Madam Pince to shush us. He apologized to her and then turned to me, saying, "No, you can sit here. Just surprised you chose to sit here when there are plenty of empty seats."

I smiled at his words. He was truly something else. "I usually like a bit of company when I read. It helps me stay connected to reality and not disappear into the textbooks," I quipped, teasing him about getting lost in his books.

His playful smirk danced on his lips, leaving me curious if they were as soft as they looked.

As I worked on my essay in silence, I couldn't help but steal glances at Albus while he worked. He was engrossed in Advanced Potions V, a book we didn't touch until seventh year, reserved for those undergoing professional potions training. This boy was full of secrets.

"Advanced Potions V? Do you even understand the contents of that book?" I asked him, noting his offended expression at my question.

"I really like Potions, and I tend to study it a little in advance. It'll be helpful during O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts. Besides, it's quite fun once you get the basics cleared," he explained, and I found myself enjoying listening to him talk.

"Well, Albus, if you're quite advanced in Potions, perhaps you could overlook my Mandrake Potion essay assigned by Parkinson," I suggested, sliding my essay toward him. He took it and skimmed through it.

"You need to start with an introduction about Mandrakes and their fatal cries, then discuss their use in medicinal potions. Also, you've veered from the main points and focused too much on the procedure rather than the purpose of each step and ingredient," he explained carefully.

"Introduction to Mandrakes? But I dropped Herbology in sixth year. Besides, this isn't an essay assigned by Professor Longbottom. Why do I need to write about the plant? Is this Professor Parkinson's way of expressing her undying love for Professor Longbottom? He's married and has two kids," I remarked matter-of-factly, referring to the rumored relationship between the two professors.

"He's married to her, and they have two kids together. Rowle, did you actually not know this? Isn't Professor Parkinson close to you?" Albus asked, sounding amused. Pansy Parkinson and Neville Longbottom were married. What.

"You've got to be kidding me. How? What? So, you're telling me Francesa and Alice Longbottom's mother is Professor Parkinson? I swear I heard Francesa complain about Professor Parkinson being unfair to her," I exclaimed in disbelief.

"You daft mare. Happy realization, love. Every year, Professor Parkinson assigns a Mandrake essay to her seventh years, and on the night of their anniversary, they sit together and correct the essays," Albus explained in a storytelling manner, revealing his romantic side.

"I don't want to know about their love life. Anyways, how do you know so much about the professors?" I asked before realizing he was a Potter, and his parents were close with most of the teachers at Hogwarts.

"I'm a Potter, remember?" he said with a sigh, flinching as he said it. He knew. He knew about my hatred for his family. I felt a pang of guilt for making my feelings toward the Weasley-Potter clan so evident.

He called my name softly, as though speaking any louder would hurt me. Why would it hurt me? Shouldn't I be the one comforting him? Was I the reason he had shut himself out?

"Rowle, if you're comfortable with it… I overheard Fred and Louis talking about your family. Louis said your family was wrongfully accused of something, while Fred stated that you don't have a family of your own," he asked hesitantly. I had been bombarded with this question many times in my seven years at Hogwarts. I snapped at people and asked them to mind their own business, but for Albus, I felt I could trust him, and the words flowed out.

Being a Rowle wasn't easy. The sacred twenty-eight was now in decline. I was the only surviving Rowle, and with me, the bloodline would end.

"It's fine, Potter. They're both right, actually. After the war, my family was accused of being Death Eaters. My father, Romulus Rowle, was wrongly identified as Rudolph Rowle, his twin brother who was the Death Eater. My father was sentenced to death, and my mother couldn't bear it. She fell sick and passed away," I explained, feeling a sense of comfort as Albus rubbed his thumb over my palm.

"So, your cousins are somewhat right. My family was wrongfully accused, and yet I have no family," I said, attempting to lighten the mood. But Albus's eyebrows furrowed, so I reached out and smoothed out the creases in his forehead, noticing a faint blush on his cheeks.

Clearing his throat, he stood up. "I hope you know that you aren't defined by your last name, right? Molly hasn't stopped talking about you being her favorite Slytherin. And she doesn't pick favorites easily."

"Albus?" I said hesitantly, catching his attention. He looked at me expectantly, but I took a moment to gather my thoughts before speaking. "You know, you don't need to shut your family out. They have your back at all times, even if they're famous. Don't miss out on Christmas gatherings next time, okay?"

He simply nodded.

After the Christmas break ended, the school was once again filled with students, which meant less time for me to spend with Albus, as he had to focus on studying for his O.W.Ls.

Throughout the Christmas break, I hung out with Albus a lot. His friends, Malfoy and Meyers, were too busy snogging in some broom closet, and he preferred to avoid that sight. Getting to know Albus a bit more during the break, I realized he was quite the flirt, even though people said James was the flirt among the two.

"Rowle?" he said, laying down on my lap as I read a book in the field, waiting for him to finish his flying practice. Would you believe me if I told you that Albus was expected to be the top scorer in the O.W.L exam and an excellent seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team?

As I made a sound of acknowledgment, he put on a sly smirk and said, "I know I'm a Gryffindor, but would you let me slither-in to your bed?" It was the classic, overused Slytherin joke.

"Honestly, Potter, weren't you supposed to be charming?" I scoffed, and he chuckled. "Hey, in my defense, I'm using romantic lines appropriate for your age, you know, older women types?" he teased, earning himself a glare from me.

During the break, he had shared stories about his family. Turns out, they were just a regular family who loved each other. Maybe I should try to be more friendly or normal towards them.

I was heading back to the Slytherin dungeons when I was pulled into a corridor. Instinctively, I reached for my wand, ready to defend myself against whoever had dared to kidnap me in broad daylight. To my surprise, it was the girls of the Weasley-Potter family: Dominique, Roxanne, Lucy, Lily, and Molly. Molly gave me a silent apology before Dominique, the eldest among them, spoke up. She had graduated a year ago and was Gryffindor's star chaser and captain in her seventh year, Louis Weasley's older sister.

"Didn't you graduate a year ago?" I asked Dominique, but Lucy answered instead, "She came to visit."

"Ah, but may I ask why I've been kidnapped? I have to get to my dorm, you know?" I inquired, looking at all the girls, but my gaze settled on Lily, the youngest Potter sibling. Albus had told me she had a tough time adjusting to Hogwarts; only in her third year, she was fiery and bold, matching her red hair.

"You've been snogging Albus, haven't you?" Lily said, sounding protective of her brother. "No, I haven't been snogging your brother, Potter," I replied coolly, though it wasn't exactly a snog. Just a simple kiss during Christmas dinner when Bradley Wood had charmed a mistletoe above us.

"My boyfriend—Bradley Wood—told us that you and Albus had been hanging out a lot around Christmas," Roxanne blurted, turning a little red as she mentioned her relationship with Wood.

"There were ten people, excluding the teachers, and I didn't want to disturb Professor Longbottom and Professor Parkinson during their wedding anniversary. They'd sent their daughters away to their great-grandmother's house just so they could enjoy some time together. And your brother was surprisingly tolerable, so it's basic human adaptation to find a comrade to prevent loneliness," I explained, hoping to diffuse any anger directed at me. They were only looking out for Albus, as anyone would—he deserved the world.

Dominique had been quiet throughout the exchange. She sighed and looked at me. "Rowle, just—just don't play with his feelings. He's a sensitive boy, and he's going through his angsty phase too." Her words struck a chord; she was the only one who had said something actually relevant to why they had kidnapped me.

"Dominique, I would never hurt Albus. And I promise you, I'm not going out with your brother, nor do I intend to. Besides, he's underage, and I'm no pedophile. And yeah, I would rather die than hurt him," I stated quietly before leaving, making my way back to my dorm. Little did I know, a certain boy had been listening in on our conversation.

Sitting in the courtyard, I was engrossed in a charms textbook when Albus approached me, his demeanor indicating he had been crying or lost in thought for the past week.

"Hello, Albus. Long time no see. The last time we properly spoke was Christmas, right?" I greeted him, patting the space next to me. He refused to sit. "No. No. I will not let you play around with my feelings."

What was it with these Potters-Weasleys always accusing me of playing with Albus's feelings?

"What do you mean?" I asked, standing up and crossing my arms defensively. "I heard what you said to my sisters—that you do not intend on dating me, that you would rather die. Rowle, tell me then, the stolen kisses during Christmas week, the one during New Year's, did they mean nothing?" His words were a mix of anger and sadness. Oh. He had overheard part of the conversation I had with his sisters yesterday. I tried to explain, but he wouldn't let up.

"You've got to tell me that this whole thing isn't just your curiosity. Please, tell me that it's more than that. Please," he almost begged. I realized it was time to clear things up, for the one person who mattered most—him.

"Albus, of course it all meant something. And you haven't heard the entire thing I said. I said I'd rather die than hurt you. Besides, it's illegal for me to date you now, as much as I want to. The stolen kisses meant a lot, more than you'll know," I said softly, hoping not to hurt him further. He already seemed fragile with all the emotions he'd been experiencing.

"Will you wait? Two more years," he asked uncertainly. "I will if you will." Merlin, it was the most nerve-wracking yet sweetest moment I had ever experienced. "I promise on Godric's sword that I will not look at another woman in any romantic way, apart from you," he said convincingly. Who knew the fifth year had so much in him?

"Albus? Kiss me," I said, and without hesitation, he leaned in, sealing our promise with the first official-unofficial kiss between us.

"I guess now I can tell Lily that I did in fact snog her brother," I said lightheartedly. Albus rolled his eyes. "Way to ruin the mood after we've just kissed, Rowle."

[brionysea]

thinking about the robins and i kinda wanna cry..... so they all had a personal stake in it, right? i am operating off of knowledge from the fandom so things are literally just occurring to me as i piece together what canon actually looks like. bear with me

tim decided to Save Batman's Soul and dick was full of rage and determined to find his parents' killer, etc etc, so they all had Big Reasons for needing to become robin, but jason... he probably would have been fine without it?

there's no "darker road best left untravelled" here like there is with the others. it's pretty classist to assume he would have turned to crime or whatever when he didn't need to do that for survival anymore, so little baby jason todd would have been completely fine staying out of this whole lifestyle once he got adopted (and even if he wasn't i have no doubt he would have been okay one day; he's too stubborn not to survive). he could've finished school and gone to uni for english lit or something and been completely, 100% fine. bruce wouldn't object to one of his children not wanting to fight crime for once, jason still would have had a family either way

which means that... he just did it to help?

because no one else was willing to help crime alley and he couldn't leave his people on their own and he couldn't leave bruce on his own so of course it all comes down to what bruce is doing as batman with the rogues and how jason doesn't think it's actually helping anyone and jason becoming the kind of person he wishes was there for him in the past???? the kind who doesn't put a self-serving moral code above the safety and security of the people they're supposed to protect???

im. no wonder this is such a popular character. there's so much to say there. his personal stakes for being a vigilante are selfless empathy and wanting to protect the innocent and vulnerable? the personal is the selfless? wanting to help and protect is part of it for all of them but it's the whole thing for jason??? it's the POINT in and of itself???? what am i even supposed to do with that?

jason could have survived. he could have never gotten tangled up with bruce's war. but that would be turning his back on everything he stands for

jason had to be a casualty. he had to! there was enough empathy for the little guy there already but when it was him, when it was personal, that was enough of a push to bring the deeply fascinating ideological differences of what jason individually represents into light and contrast with bruce. he couldn't ignore it anymore, couldn't just be the lucky one in a million who got adopted by bruce wayne and stopped caring about all the unlucky ones. anything less than jason dying while trying to do things bruce's way would have been a complete and total disservice to his character

[tiredrobin]

SIX SIX SIX

Pkeaaaase tell me about Six!!!

We got both games at a massive discount on December and we've been playing them non stop and I love love LOVE THEM SI MUCC AI COULD BITE SONEONEEHDJDJSJDJJSHD

Six is just !!!!!!! 😭👍💜

hi uve activated my trap card etc. im on mobile so this isn't as extensive or involved as id like to make it but like. she is my girl my light i love her. i care her so much. this will 100% contain ln and ln2 spoilers so if u havent finished ln2 stop reading Right Neow.

the thing about six is that she is (1) nine years old and (2) in a world that Wants To Eat Her. a world that DOES in fact eat her—points at the thin man taking her and the remnant left behind—and a world that, as a result, forces her to eat. to consume. she's starving, possessed with an unnatural hunger that leaves her weak and desperate, and That Isn't Even Her Fucking Fault, and people still rip into her and present her as a villain for the position she's put in.

she's NINE. NINE!!!! what were you like when you were nine? a scared kid. a hungry kid. a mean kid. you were old enough to understand morals and to play into them, old enough to learn what trust and betrayal is, old enough to know what it is to care about someone and maybe old enough to know what it's like to lose someone. old enough to know what it's like to lose something. you weren't perfect or flawless, you were messy and you made awful mistakes and did mean things, all in a world that generally tries to be much, much kinder than the world six was born into.

six lets go of mono because he hid while she was being taken, one can presume. maybe it's actually because he tore her from her dream, her warmth and safety. she had toys and her music box. she was comfortable. her body was twisted and mangled and broken but she was big enough that no monsters could hurt her anymore. she had her music box. are you hearing me? she had her music box. the one piece of comfort she ever had.

and mono broke it.

we know he did it to save her, but we don't know if she wanted to be saved. we don't know if leaving that warm, safe place, where she was big enough to hurt anything and anyone who tried to hurt her, where she had light and toys and music—we don't know if she wanted to leave. we just know that, from the outside, it felt that she had been trapped in a fascimile of safety. we just know that mono wanted his friend back. we just know that six had been taken and that, presumably, she needed to be rescued.

she dropped mono because she was having a good dream and mono tore her from it and it HURT. she screams every time he hits that music box, writhes and wails, and maybe it's grief but even if it is "just" grief, that pain is as visceral and real as any other. he hid, ignored her outstretched hand (not his fault but idc abt that rn this is abt six), and then he hurt her because... he wanted her back? did he even ask if she wanted to come back? if she wanted to go back to being small and weak and scared? i don't know. i think she would have said no, if he had. i think she would have chosen what safety the tower had to offer her. i think she would have remained eaten, cradled in the warm belly of a beast who loves her, than return to a world that wants to eat her in less gentle ways.

she eats the gnome because she's hungry. there's a yawning void in her stomach, an emptiness that haunts her every fucking time she tries to fill it. she's so fucking hungry.

and she's nine.

so. y'know. i care about mono, obviously, but six is torn up by the world she lives in and by the fandom that should, but doesn't, treasure her. she gives so much of herself away trying to help mono and gets eaten for her troubles. i don't blame her, really, for biting back.

[innitmarvellous]

Like last year I tried to compile a rather sad little list of positive (and positive-ish) things and accomplishments of 2024. There really isn't much I could come up with, but better than nothing, I guess? Dunno if it's too early for it, but I can still add to this post if I can think of something else.

- I randomly decided that I wanted to learn to play an instrument & that's why I started with electric guitar in February and added electic bass in Autumn. I'm not particularly good at either of them which often frustrates me a lot, but I still don't regret trying it. Well, not much. I just hate having to deal with expectations aka "oh, so you want to play in a band?". No, I don't, because I started way too late for that and no band needs a shitty guitarist/bassist, lmao. (Oh, and I'm already planning to try and learn the violin next. I'm even worse at that, so there's a lot of fun to be had, except for the people who have to listen to my playing :D)

- I also learned how to crochet, after huge initial frustration. That's a new skill acquired, I guess? I did a lot of crochet stuff over the year, but unfortunately it doesn't feel that fulfilling because I'm not that good and also don't know anyone to gift the finished stuff too. The scarves and shawls are piling up in my wardrobe and it's so frustrating, lol. But at least I could make myself very ugly little HIGNFY and Beatles dolls :3

- I wrote more unsexy porn fics, which might not be good for the readers, but is kind of good for me as it doesn't feel very cringe anymore. Now I only need to find a way to make them at least a little sexy!

- I didn't have one of these massive self-hate attacks for a silly small reason, which was good. Well, I had several small moments, but I hated the big ones way more...

- I at least tried to accept some things about me, like being possibly asexual and getting over the fact that I hate my name. Unfortunately I only tried without much success, but the attempt has to count for something. Since I don't want to accept that I might be aspec I'm just thinking of myself as queer now to avoid having to think about it any further - which is also rather practical for gender reasons since I've got no idea about that either :/ (Although using it still makes me feel like an intruder into queer communities, but the term is useful for me...so a big sorry to anyone who's truly queer. Hope that's a forgivable sin.) And I'm trying to come up with an alternative name I can address myself with in my thoughts, lol.

- I tried to work on my self-acceptance. Again: I tried. Some things happened that made me doubt myself again when I thought I had made some progress, so I'm not really sure about how successful I was. I wish I would just figure out whether I deserve to feel better about myself, that would be a nice start. xD

- I decided to develop a taste of my own. Sounds weird and is something I should have done long ago since I'm fucking old, but...I often watched a show or read a book I didn't like simply because of things like: 'but a comedian I like said that's his favourite book!'. Well, and now I'm trying to tell myself: if our tastes align on something, very good. But if not, whatever.

- I'm still rather insane about HIGNFY and religiously watch at least one episode a day. Also, I had two nice and very long conversations with other fans on AO3 and these honestly gave me such a good time. Too bad they didn't last even longer, but the other people probably moved on to new fandoms and even so, I had a blast. (And of course I'm also still weird about Paul. If anything I got weirder about him. Just look at my fics in case I still haven't deleted them yet! Actually, no, please don't look, but you get what I mean.)

- Not an accomplishment, but I'm kind of happy that I got interested in The Beatles at the end of last year. I read so many books and stuff about them in 2024 and wrote fics and listened to the music (of course) and that usually was a source of happiness, so yeah. That was good :D

[nightimedreamersworld]

20 questions for fic writers

Big thanks @artsyunderstudy and @prettygoododds @confused-bi-queer @bookish-bogwitch tagging me in this! And to everyone else who's tagged me in a tumblr meme recently. It's been a while since I've done one of these.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

33!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

Around 370k, but of those about 40k aren't mine. So in reality, something like 330k?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Only Carry On! I don't have the attention span for more of one at a time lol

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. How I wonder what you are aka baby fic

2. Mess is mine aka secret dating fic

3. Every little helps aka snickers fic

4. You and I will not be shaken aka huddling for warmth fic

5. From across the room aka my FIRST fic

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I don't 😭 which makes me feel guilty and ungrateful, but alas. Every time I've tried to in the past, I'd run out of steam after half a dozen comments or so. Don't get me wrong, I love comments, they fuel me etc etc. Replying just makes me unreasonably anxious

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Technically it's Love of Fate because it doesn't have an ending. It was supposed to be a prologue to something longer that would eventually have a happy ending, and that I simply never wrote lol

That said, the true angstiest ending is probably my All there's left is a ghost of you series - same moment, one from Simon's pov, the other from Baz's. Set between carry on and wayward son, which tells you everything about why it's here :) (Although arguably, those are hopeful endings. Kinda.)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Almost everything I write has a happy-ish ending, but the one indisputable happiest ending is probably How I wonder what you are

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not necessarily hate, but one time I did get someone mocking my fic for a mistake I made. Which, like, I deserved, for straying so far out of my comfort zone lol

Anyway. I have upped my research game since, so. Lesson learned?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes! The kind I want to read lol

Seriously, though, I tend to write weird stuff I can't find elsewhere. Someone once mentioned there's little mirror sex fic in the fandom, and BAM! I got the itch to write one. I've also tried my hand at web cam sex, body modification, and... [reads smudged handwriting] cemetery sex?

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I haven't yet, but never say never, right? Although I'm much more likely to just write AUs instead. As in, take the world of the original, chuck the characters and just replace them with snowbaz lol

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Probably not? I mean. I hope so lol

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. I've thought about doing it myself, but there's roughly any engagement with fics in Portuguese on AO3, so it doesn't feel worth the trouble

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Birthday man! Though I might be open to it if a) someone with a compatible style is interested, and b) I find some free time to actually write lol

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Do I even need to say anything? (It's snowbaz)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Sigh. It's probably Let your colours bleed, because It's been 3 years, so I've just... sort of grown past the story? Which makes me sad, because I still like the concept, I just can't connect to anymore

There are a handful other WIPs still hanging on my ao3, but I still have hope for them.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like writing plot! And also actions scenes. And banter, maybe a bit too much lol

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

The beginning of a fic. And also the ending. And also the mid-

Seriously though, I find that I tend to be either too verbose or too succinct when I don't know exactly what I'm trying to say. Like, I either charge through it and the thing falls flat, or I drag it on for several paragraphs that amount to barely anything. Hopefully, I can mitigate that with the power of editing and beta readers

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I think it's cool depending on context! Like, is this a situation in which this character would simply switch to another language? Also, why?

I haven't done it yet, though.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Take a guess. (It was actually Harry Potter)

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Dance Like a Flame! My specialest baby. My little darling. My magnum opus.

I'll jump at literally any chance to talk about this fic, so beware.

Phew! Can't believe I actually answered one of these for once... now, I'm pretty sure almost everyone has done this already, but I'm going to tag a few people anyway just so this doesn't get lost in the abyss

@palimpsessed @captain-aralias @cutestkilla @larkral @aristocratic-otter @hushed-chorus @whatevertheweather @ivelovedhimthroughworse @whogaveyoupermission

[fruitytrollroll]

you dont have anons on on your main so: in theme with some of your other nice anons: one of my favourite fics of all time is an unfinished fic you last updated several ago and even though its a WIP i STILL recommend it to people as one of the best pieces of writing in my fandom. if i ever make a ship reclist, it will literally be the first fic on it. i think about it all the time. ive never sent you an ask about it because im also a writer and would hate to feel pressured into going back to a wip im not feeling anymore, so like, this ask is Not That, it's more a "your WIPs, even unfinished, are crazy valuable to the people who love them, and thank you for sharing them with us". even if you never finish it, i'll still always love it. it's also nice to see your passion for writing in fandoms i'm not in, and if i ever do get into them, your ao3 will be the first place i go to for extra reading :)

THIS IS SO SWEET???? THANK YOU HFJSHFJSJ?????

I had to read this ask aloud to my friends because I was so CURIOUS which fic you were talking about and I wondered WHY you didn't specify which one it was, and they were like "Bro, they don't want to pressure you <3" WHICH IS SO SWEET AND CONSIDERATE OF YOU???

But please don't worry about that!! Hearing people think fondly work doesn't make me feel pressured at all!! If anything, receiving glowing praise of a fic I've shelved usually just makes me want to read it back (I am incurably obsessed with my own writing). Often I'm reminded of how much I enjoyed writing it, or I'll think "Wow, this still holds up!" or "Oh, this sentence could be a little stronger..." And then I'll just decide to polish it up? One of the benefits of fic posted to AO3 being a LIVE document means I can edit it whenever I want, and that freedom to embellish and gradually improve my work makes me happy to go back to it.

Sometimes I'll even realize, "You know what? The writing hurdle I ran into back then isn't even an issue now, I know exactly how to wrap this up!" or even, "Oh man, wasn't the next chapter almost finished?? I should just tidy it up and post it as a thanks to my lovely readers!"

SO PLEASE... PLEASE, PLEASE, I'M DYING OF CURIOSITY... YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT AND LEAVE, I HAVE /GOT/ TO KNOW WHICH FIC IT WAS...!!!!!

Of course, you don't HAVE to tell me, and I'm delighted by the content and the spirit of this compliment!!

BUT PLEASE COME BACK. PLEASE TELL ME. WHICH FIC WAS IT!!! YOU CAN PUT ME ON BLAST I DON'T CARE I HAVE NO SHAME!!!

[killerandhealerqueen]

Fic Author Interview

Thank you for the tag @hils79!

How many works do you have on AO3?

270 (as of right now)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

2,888,650 (as of right now)

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Wait, We're Married?! (The Devil Judge, Kang Yohan/Kim Gaon) - 1,543 kudos

Succulents and an Overprotective Kang Yohan (The Devil Judge, Kang Yohan/Kim Gaon) 1,243 kudos

Kang Yohan's Relaxing Day Off (The Devil Judge, Kang Yohan/Kim Gaon) - 844 kudos

Protect You (The Devil Judge, Kang Yohan/Kim Gaon) - 817 kudos

Kim Gaon Is Mine (The Devil Judge, Kang Yohan/Kim Gaon) - 761 kudos

I'm honestly still kinda surprised my Devil Judge fics are doing well, considering that I don't write for the fandom anymore

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always do, unless they're rude, then they're just deleted. There's no point in fighting/arguing with someone who doesn't understand the story I'm trying to tell

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Oh, my Chinese Paladin 4 fic Promise to Keep. It's one of my only fics that has Major Character Death, which is INCREDIBLY rare for me, but it's the only fic I've ever felt comfortable writing an MCD for because I was actually okay with the ending of the drama. But it won't ever happen again because I cried while writing this fic and I don't think I can go through it again

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

All of them but Promise to Keep

7. Do you write crossovers?

Yeah. I mainly do crossovers between Killer and Healer and S.C.I., but I've done crossovers with other dramas too

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I did, yeah, and made a whole fucking post about it because the person was really fucking rude and not only came for me, but for my readers and if you come for me, fine, I'll just delete the comment, but the moment you come for my readers I will fucking end you

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I did, back when I wrote for the Untamed. Someone had took my The Untamed Moments and started posting it, word for fucking word, in Spanish over on Wattpad. Thankfully a reader told me about it and I got it taken down but to my knowledge, none of my fics since then have been stolen

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Oh yeah, a few. It makes me really happy/honored

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Waaaay back on AsianFanFics...haven't since then

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

It's been almost 3 years and I'm still not normal about them

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I always finish my WIPs, for the most part. It's very rare that I don't

15. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and anything that has to do with describing crime scenes or forensics. Or anything mafia related

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Run ons, maybe. But sometimes, you just gotta

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I never write full dialogue in other languages, but I will use words, like "gege" or "hyung". Sometimes, I'll curse in another language, if I know what it is (mainly in Japanese)

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

First proper fic was either for Dragonball or Black Butler

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

I don't know, no new fandom/ship has like...caught me and made me want to write. If I watch a new show, I mainly just like...want to make an au out of it for my current ships

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written

My baby, my beloved, my Killer and Healer rewrite, right here: 恨君不似江楼月 | Killer and Healer.

It's a fic that I don't think I can ever top. The amount of time and effort and tears that I put into this fic...I just love it a lot. And I'm super proud of it. I mean, I love all my fics, don't get me wrong, but nothing can ever probably beat this fic

Tagging: @sunriseverse @clawbehavior @godotismissingx @fourth-quartet @ahhhnorealnamesallowed and any of my other writer friends who wants to play

[anawrites3]

Ooh could I ask about 'dimension travel' and 'universe swap - royalty'

Of course you can 💕💕 Ask all you want!

Dimension travel is a story that I started writing for dc poly week that I didn't get to finish in time. I'm still very excited about this one and I hope I'll get to finish it soon! It's a SlaJayDick fic where Dick accidentally gets send into another dimension. Everything seems pretty much the same except for the fact that in this world Dick Grayson never was Deathstroke's apprentice. But it doesn't mean that Slade never got his hands on any little bird ;)

It's a pretty dark one, with Dick just wanting to get back home and instead getting right into a trap that wasn't even set.

A little snippet;

“Looks like the little bird fell right into our grasp.” Slade purred out. He walked around Dick in a circle, watching him carefully. "Good work, apprentice."

Dick flinched, not able to conceal his reaction. He couldn't help it, even years after he managed to escape from him, something ugly twisted in his stomach hearing those words again.

"I am not your apprentice anymore." He growled.

Slade froze. Dick had to crank his neck to look at him but he saw the way the man stopped mid-step, almost like he was caught off guard. His brow furrowed just barely with confusion.

"You're not…?" He echoed, looking almost… surprised.

Then, very slowly, his lips curled into a satisfied smirk. He looked Dick over again, as if he was seeing him for the very first time and was curious, wanting to know everything, his every little twitch and reaction.

"I wasn't talking to you, boy. But that's a very interesting piece of information you gave me." Slade hummed.

He stopped in front of Dick, next to where Jason was still just standing with his back straight and hands clasped behind his back. Slade looked at the younger boy with something Dick didn't want to name.

"Don't touch him!" Dick snarled, struggling against the chains when Slade reached out towards Jason.

Slade ignored him. He wrapped a hand around Jason's neck and Jason let it happen without a word of protest.

"Such a good boy." He praised and Jason's eyelids fluttered. "What you brought me is even better than I thought."

And uniwerse swap - royalty is also a kind of dimension travel 😂💕 It's been sitting in my wips for so long, damn, it's one of the first things I started writing for this fandom. So, one day Dick wakes up in a soft bed that's not his, in a grand bedroom that's definitely not his. Then Alfred walks inside and greets him, calling him His Highness. Dick doesn't know what happened or why he's a literal prince but he doubts he can talk about it to anyone without being called a lunatic or being accoused of witchcraft or whatever people in medieval times did to freaks who talked about other worlds. So he tries to not destroy this Dick's life and he does his best to just... live his life, until he finds a way to go home. You know, be the crown prince of Gotham. No big deal.

Slade's there too of course. To make everything just a little bit more difficult for Dick :3 But while in Dick's world Slade is just a mercenary that tried to kill him multiple times, in this world their relationship is a little more... intimate (They're in a secret relationship because king Bruce would kill them both if he knew about their affair (and the feelings that came with it)) So, in order to not fuck up this Dick's life, Dick has to survive not only being a prince but also Slade's Wilson lover. Again, no big deal.

Have a snippet for this one as well;

Dick sprang up from his chair with a gasp. He was aware that everyone was looking at him, most concerned with a frown adorning their faces but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when Slade Wilson was standing in the doorway, dressed in dark armor, with a sword at his hip and at his back.

Dick didn't know what Deathstroke could want from them in this world but he doubted it would be anything good. Not to mention that none of them were armed while Wilson had on himself two visible swords, at least five hidden daggers that Dick could see and a whole lot more that he couldn't.

"Dick." Tim murmured, gripping his sleeve. "What is it?"

Dick didn't answer him, didn't even look in his direction. Slade was still just standing there, furrowing his brow as well and looking at Dick with something almost soft, as if he was worried. Which was… stupid.

Bruce cleared his throat deliberately before rising to his feet himself, more gracefully and slowly than Dick did. Slade's eye immediately snapped to him.

"Grand General Wilson." Bruce greeted.

Slade inclined his head, just barely. "Your Majesty."

"It's good to see you back in one piece, general. I take it everything went according to plan?"

"Of course."

Dick couldn't breathe.

Thank you for asking, anon 💕💕

You can find the list of my wips here