#i know its short but i hope you like it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starry-bi-sky · 1 year ago

Text

Childhood Friends Au: Danny's in Gotham Again

when the wool is off your eyes you'll stop counting sheep at night cause you'll eat your fill of them during the daytime

A few weeks after Danny’s visit to Gotham, he buys an apartment in the city. It’s this little thing, a studio apartment on the same street he grew up in. In Crime Alley. When he tells his parents, they protest heavily. They don’t think it's safe. They think he should reconsider. There were plenty of apartments and places to live somewhere else. And what about college?

Danny doesn’t think he’ll go to college. He isn’t sure what he wants to do, now that being an astronaut is off the table. It’d be a waste of money to go without a goal in mind, he thinks. He says he’ll take a gap year and apply at one of the community colleges funded by the Wayne Corporation, possibly. It just wasn’t in the cards right now.

“If things get tough,” He says at dinner that night, “then I can talk to the Waynes. I’m friends with the family, remember?” He ended up getting Bruce’s number in his phone again before he left, and in the process got Tim’s as well. They don’t talk much, Danny isn’t sure what to say. But he sends Tim memes whenever he comes across one and thinks he’ll like. Tim sends memes back in return.

His parents do remember. They remember. They also remember the horrified shriek that echoed through the house when Danny learned of Jason’s passing. They remember running up the stairs and bursting into their son’s room and finding him sobbing into his bed, curled up like a little kid, like he was in pain. He lost his voice that day, stuck between screaming out his grief and sobbing it.

They’re still not sure if they should let him go.

In the end, Danny wins them out, and he lets them help him search for an apartment. They take a break from their lab work to help search for cheap furniture to buy. They may have more money than when they were in Gotham, but that frugal part of you never fully goes away. They all agree that they don’t want Danny to be seen carrying in nice-looking furniture when he moves in.

He ends up with a basic furniture set, all mismatched, and in the warm summer of June, his parents rent out a u-haul and drive him down to Gotham to move in. They meet the landlord when they arrive, a skinny and frail old man with wispy white hair and a wrinkled face. He gives Danny the keys and tells him what apartment number he is, and then he leaves.

His parents help him move in. They help him carry his heavy furniture up to the second floor, where his apartment is. Danny isn’t sure if he wants them to help. His mom and dad are strong, but they are getting old, closer to their fifties now that their children are grown. His dad’s hair is slowly beginning to thin, and rather than the white eating at the sides of his head, it now streaks through his hair like salt-and-pepper. His mom’s hair is graying out too, and there are more lines in their faces than he remembers there being.

When he voices his concerns, his mom laughs spiritedly and says that they may be getting old, but they are still as spry as when they were in their twenties. Danny isn’t sure if he believes them or not. He can see his dad struggle a bit when they return to get his bed frame, and they have to take a break before they go back down for the rest of their things.

Five years ago, his dad could do this without breaking a sweat. It forces a heavy thing in the back of Danny’s throat. (He is less afraid of his own death than he is of his loved ones, and while he has always felt rocky with his parents, he still loves them more than anything else.)

Danny’s apartment is exactly as he would have expected it to be: shabby and worn through. The entire room smells like stale cigarette smoke and weed, nicotine stains the wall with poorly covered bullet holes, and stains in the carpet that are a color he can’t discern. The fridge has a broken light and when he tries to turn on the gas stove, it click-click-clicks before lighting, fire fwooshing out while the smell of gas fills the air. There’s rat droppings in the cupboards and the closet-like bathroom is just as bad.

The ghostly part of him can sense the heavy stench of death in the room; people have died in this room. People have died in every room of this building, he thinks. They have died on the streets outside and in the alleys squeezed between them. He can feel it like a heavy fog in the air.

It is painfully nostalgic, a bittersweet feeling in his chest that he grimaces to.

When the last box is placed in his apartment, his parents offer to help unpack. They are hesitant to leave and Danny knows it, although he doesn’t know if it’s from empty nest syndrome or because it's Gotham. He thinks it might be both. He is their youngest child finally leaving home to a city known for its danger.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay behind, sweetie?” His mother asks, a frown she tries to hide settled in the creases of her face. She fiddles with her hands, a nervous habit Danny has since noticed when she feels truly unsure and doesn’t need to hide it. Hesitancy looms over her like a heavy cloud.

His dad jumps in hastily, splaying his hands and smiling painfully wide to hide the glistening in his eyes. “You’re mother’s right! We can help you get everything set up, champ. I could probably do something with that stove of yours to make it faster!” He says, his voice still booming like it always does even if there’s a stumble in his words.

It makes his heart squeeze, knowing just how much they care. It was hard last summer, telling him that he was the Phantom. Terrifying, actually. They couldn’t comprehend it. He hadn’t felt his heart beat that fast in years when he stood in front of them at the kitchen table and told them he was a halfa, begging them to believe that ghosts weren’t inherently evil.

His parents were people of science, however, and after much, much shock, they slowly came to terms with it. How could they not? The evidence was right in front of them. Their son was dead-alive, alive-dead. Somewhere stuck in the between. The tears they shed that night could fill a river, moving from the kitchen to the living room as Danny explains how he died.

(When Danny tells them that he died after a week Jason did, his mom and dad look horrified. His mom covers her mouth when he adds that it was his idea to go inside it, his dad looks ashy pale, gripping his pant legs so tight that his knuckles turn white. There is a conclusion coming to their minds that he can tell they don’t like.)

(“You’ve always hated our inventions, Danny.” Mom says in a hushed voice, and Danny winces at the wording, sinking into the back of the cushions in shame. He never thought that his parents noticed. Mom quickly grabs his arm, “No, no, there’s nothing to be ashamed of Danny. We were… perhaps too careless with our inventions, too enthusiastic. You had every right to hate the things we made when they had a tendency to… to malfunction.”)

(Malfunction is a delicate way of putting it, when Danny remembers every time they had to evacuate their old apartment complex because whatever half-baked creation his parents made inevitably blew up into ash and smoke. There were soot marks permanently stained into the ceiling.)

(Her hand slides down and grabs his, and she cups it in both of her hands, squeezing tightly. He forces himself to look up, and there is a look like her heart breaking when he looks into his mother’s eyes. “You’ve always avoided the lab after we moved, Danny. And you had every right to, so why on Earth did you ever think about going into the portal?”)

(Danny struggles to come up with an adequate answer, a way to verbalize what came over him that day five years ago. The answer is there, hanging in the air like a knot in a noose. He opens his mouth, and then closes it.)

(Finally, with a tongue made of lead, he shrugs lamely and looks away. “I didn’t know there was an on button inside it.” He mumbles, and despite being the truth it feels like a lie. But that is the truth. He didn’t know there was an on button inside it. So he didn’t care what happened.)

(Something dulls in mom’s eyes, like she thought of something else that Danny hadn’t said. Her eyes shimmer, and she squeezes them shut, breathing in so deep that it shakes. And then she pulls him into a hug, a hand burying into his hair and pressing him close. “It must have hurt so much, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”)

(It is something that Danny doesn’t expect her to say, like missing the last step of the stairs. It startles him so much he laughs this short, bark of a thing. He feels his dad press against his back and wrap his big arms around them, his nose pushed into his hair.)

(Because yeah. Yeah, it did hurt. It hurt more than anything else he’s ever felt before. It had torn him apart and sewn him back together again, only to rinse and repeat. The pain was nothing he ever spoke to Sam or Tucker about, and it was something they never brought up. No, that’s not true. If they ever brought it up, Tucker would call it a zap. As if Danny only experienced a mild static shock. Like it was painless. It’s a pretty lie that Danny lets him and Sam believe.)

(His eyes sting and water immediately wobbles into his vision, coming up with such a force that he doesn’t even need to blink before it spills over. “Yeah.” He forces out, voice unexpectedly rough and cracking. “Yeah, it- it hurt. A lot.”)

He tells them about fighting the Lunch Lady a month later. He tells them about finding Jason. It comes spilling out like a waterfall. “I found him, mom.” He says, holding onto her tight while she keeps him tucked under his chin like a little kid. The secret of Jason being Robin stays hidden under his tongue, it is not his secret to tell. Not his identity to expose. He grips her tighter. “I found him, mom. Right there in the Ghost Zone, and he was my Jason. He wasn’t an echo or a— an imprint of him.”

Mom is silent; quiet and attentive, and so is dad, who rubs his large hands up and down Danny’s spine in an attempt to soothe him. It only works a little. Danny breathes in like a gasp as the urge to cry overcomes him again. He always avoids talking about Jason, his grief is like a never-healing scab that can be picked off at any time. It is ingrained into his core.

“And then I lost him.” He forces out, a sob layering under his words that he chokes on and swallows. The hand on his back stills, and he can feel mom and dad breathe in like a question. He turns his head and pushes it into mom’s shoulder. “He disappeared, mom. Just— just gone.”

“And he didn’t move on.” He says, voice snarling like teeth biting before his mom can ask, because he knows that’s what she was going to ask. It’s what Sam and Tucker asked when he came to them in tears hours after he found Jason gone. It’s what Jazz said when he finally told her about it. It’s what every one of his ghosts asked when he told them about it and begged for their help.

Danny grits his teeth and tries not to dig his nails into mom’s clothes as a fresh wave of tears run down his face. “His haunt is still there. If Jason really moved on it would have disappeared with him. That’s how it works. But it’s still in the zone, so Jason’s out there I just don’t know where.”

(Sam once asks him why Danny didn’t just move on from it a year after Jason’s disappearance. She asked him why he didn’t give it up. Danny nearly saw red, and nearly bit her head off for it. It was incomprehensible to him to just stop looking for Jason, to give up. Not when he was out in the zone somewhere. Because he had to be in the zone.)

(Danny once tried to take Jason through the portal with him, and much like what happened to Kitty, it didn’t work. Jason was too tied to the ghost zone to leave.)

(Some bonds are just unbreakable, he thinks. Bonds forged through blood and time and trust, and when you’re on the streets of Gotham, you hoard what little trust you have in someone like a dragon with its gold. It is scarcely given and fiercely kept.)

“I’ve been looking for him.” Danny whispers when talking becomes too hard for him, when it runs the risk of him crying. “When- when I’m not fighting ghosts or, or in school or with my friends, I’ve been looking for him.” He has explored the Ghost Zone in every reach he can. He has met so many people. He’s met the ghosts of aliens from planets in every corner of the galaxy. He has met gods or god-like beings and their disciples.

He’s met famous scholars and writers (he’s gotten the autographs of all of Jason’s favorite writers). He has found entire cities that have so much life in it that it's been permanently etched into the ghost zone, like a mirror version of itself.

He’s visited the ghostly vision of Gotham so many times, and he avoids the imprint of Wayne Manor like the plague. There are ghostly newspapers that he reads. There are the ghosts of Martha and Thomas Wayne in many of them.

Jason’s haunt connects to Wayne Manor, but it is also the street they grew up in. It is a small brick building with a door that leads to Jason’s room. A ghost knows when someone enters their haunt, it alerts them like a doorbell in the back of their mind. A foreign ecto-signature in a place drenched in your own.

Danny visits it every time he goes into the Ghost Zone. It’s always his first stop.

He tells his parents all of it. He tells them of the ghosts he’s met, of the places he’s seen. And when he feels brave, he tells them about Rath and the terror that his future self brings him. He keeps some details hidden, the ones that he can afford to keep without muddling up the story.

(Rath is a tall, spindly thing, like a funhouse mirror version of Danny himself. He has arms that are much too long and legs that are much too tall, with skinny fingers that extend into claws.He wears his suit the same as Danny does, with it partially undone and the sleeves wrapped around his waist.)

(There is a black hole in his chest that is much bigger than Danny’s own. It takes up his chest cavity and drips the same, viscous black liquid as the tears falling from his eyes. Danny never forgets his voice; a scraping, quiet thing like he’s screamed himself hoarse. Rath has a voice like goosebumps, and it haunts Danny like a bump in the night.)

Danny speaks and speaks and speaks until he can’t think of anything else to speak of. He is tired and sad, and it feels like his heart has been ripped out and rubbed raw again. And yet, he also feels so much better. Like a long heavy weight has been taken off his chest.

Yeah, last summer was hard. His parents walked on eggshells around him, and they forced themselves to unlearn their bias of ghosts. It was more than Danny could have ever dreamed of, and when they felt ready for it, they asked him more about the ghost zone.

He smiles sadly at his dad, “I think fixing the stove can be a priority another time, dad.” He says, watching him wilt and his smile fall. Jack Fenton was always so good at making himself look like a kicked puppy. “I can handle unpacking by myself, I promise.”

His parents still look so unsure, like they want to argue. Danny watches his mom purse her lips tightly, confliction running across her face like a datastream. She takes dad’s hand, squeezing their fingers together despite the droop in her shoulders.

“Oh, alright then, I suppose.” She relents, her hand placing on Jack’s arm. “I guess we could go, we’re just going to miss you so much, Danny.”

Tears seem to have won over his dad, and Jack Fenton sniffs back before he can cry properly. “Our little boy, all grown up.” He says, voice wobbling. It makes Danny laugh, and it makes his heart pang. His smile grows impossibly wider and so much fonder. “You’ve become such a kind, wonderful young man, Danno. We’re so proud of you.”

Danny laughs again, and it cracks. “You’re gonna make me cry, dad.” (He feels a welling of guilt in his gut that he ignores — he doesn’t feel like a kind man. He doesn’t feel like a good one either. Not with what he plans to do.)

His father holds out his arms in hopefulness, “One last hug for your old man before we head out?” He asks, mustering up a smile on his face.

Danny barrels into him, nearly knocking his dad over with an oomph. He’s as tall as him now, but he still feels little in his bear hugs. With arms wrapping around his middle, Danny hugs his father tight and breathes him in one last time.

“Careful there, Danno.” He laughs, patting Danny’s back roughly. “You’ll break my ribs with that ghostly strength of yours!” But he holds on just as tight.

Out of spite, Danny bends back and lifts him off his feet, laughing when Jack tenses up and nearly scrambles out of surprise. His mom laughs with him, stepping back to give them room for the few seconds that dad is in the air.

When it’s his mom’s turn, Danny has to hunch to hug her. Something bittersweet to him as she plants a kiss on his forehead and says that he’ll always be her baby. “Even if you do have that horrid smoking habit.” She adds on with a disapproving eyebrow raise.

Danny turns red in embarrassment, and walks them back to the GAV. Gothamites of all kinds slow to stop and boggle at the monstrous, road-illegal thing that is parallel-parked next to the curbside. In the past, Danny would have died with mortification to be seen with it. Now it just makes him laugh. Before he goes back into the apartment building, he buys a newspaper from a nearby convenience store.

The first thing he does when he gets back up to his room is one: make a mental note to buy a bicycle chain lock for the door. The locks jiggle and there are splinters along the side that show signs of it being broken into in the past. The second thing he does is pull his cigarettes out of his pocket and light one.

Danny starts to unpack with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, placing the newspaper he bought onto the counter. He has a cheap loveseat that he pushes off to the side, and he moves the boxes into the kitchen. It’s a matter of organization that Danny has to think about before he does anything.

It’s as he’s pushing the sofa up against the wall facing the windows that his phone rings a familiar tune: Sam. The phone is fished out before he can think about it and when he stares down at the screen, he realizes it's a facetime call.

He presses answer and walks over to prop his phone up onto the counter. The smiling faces of Sam and Tucker greet him, rather than just Sam. Immediately, Danny grins. “Hey Danny.” Sam greets, smiling a dark-painted lazy thing. From the background it looks like they’re in Tucker’s room. Sam is in Tucker’s desk chair, and Tucker is behind her, leaning against it. “Have you moved in yet?”

Danny pulls the cigarette from his mouth and huffs, a cloud of smoke following his breath. “Yeah! It’s a shithole.” He grins lopsidedly, and his feet carry him off to the side to allow Sam and Tucker view of his apartment. He lets thirty seconds pass, allowing the both of them to really see the rest of the room. And then he steps back into frame.

Sam and Tucker both look like they’re trying not to look judgemental, like they’re trying to hide a grimace that Danny sees anyway with the small turns at the corner of their mouths. He grins wider, mirth filling his lungs. “I know, it looks awful doesn’t it?”

“It’s— it’s not so bad.” Sam says with a strain in her voice, a forced smile on her face that tries to be reassuring. Tucker nods along readily, and he looks just as unsure as Sam does. Danny stifles laughter behind his teeth.

“No, no, it looks bad,” He takes a drag of his cigarette, shaking his head. “You can say it, I won’t get offended. It’s a fucking apartment in crime alley. Of course it looks bad.”

Sam remains silent, a rearing of her stubbornness showing itself. Tucker takes a different approach, and heaves a dramatic sigh of relief, slumping like a weight. “Okay, you’re right. It looks bad.” He frowns, “Sorry, man.”

While Danny snorts, Sam sighs. “Yeah, it looks bad. What even are those stains?” She asks, and both she and Tucker lean closer in tandem to the screen, eyes squinting at the floor behind him. Danny glances at the floor, and shrugs.

“Blood, probably.” He says, and while years in Amity Park have accustomed him to a clean environment, the desensitization of Gotham still remains. Tucker and Sam both make faces and lean away, as if the stain itself was capable of passing through to them. “Yeah, there are bullet holes in the walls.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to be there?” Tucker asks, a furrow appearing between his brows. He adjusts his glasses and leans against the chair. Sam is frowning heavily, and Danny can already see her thinking up of a new way to fix the problem.

“Oh, I never said this place was safe.” Danny tells him cheerily, taking a last hit of his cigarette before placing the dead stick onto the counter. He itches for another one. Instead he walks over to the shelf his parents brought in and starts moving it. “It’s Crime Alley, Tuck. Safe isn’t even in its vocabulary.”

Tucker and Sam look like they’ve both swallowed a lemon.

“But it’s where I want to be right now.” He says, grunting quietly when the shelf is against the wall he wants it to be, near the short hallway leading to the front door. He can push it in front of it if someone tries to break in. “And Crime Alley’s apartments are the only ones I can really afford right now without mooching off my parents, and I’d rather not depend on them.”

He can hear the disapproving hesitance from where he stands. And he ignores it.

Danny walks back into frame, lifting up a box onto the counter. He hums lightly, fingers run over the tape keeping it shut. “Why do you even want to be in Gotham, Danny?” Sam asks, and she sounds genuinely perplexed. Danny stills. “I thought this place only had bad memories for you.”

His blood turns cold, and like a dime being flipped his slow heartbeat fills his ears. “It does.” He replies automatically, before he can think. Shit, shit. He knows that Sam or Tucker would ask that question, and yet he still feels unprepared for it. His heart pulses quickly against his ribcage, knocking, asking him what he’s going to tell them that isn’t the truth.

Danny stammers, “I mean— I just— I guess I felt nostalgic.” He says, and it sounds like a weak defense. He looks away, finding himself instinctively scratching his jaw. A new tick of his when he’s nervous. From the corner of his eye, he sees Sam and Tucker both narrow their eyes at him.

He cannot tell them the real reason why he’s moved back to Gotham. He can’t tell them of the little secret and vow he told himself five years ago, the one that’s been left to fester and burn like an open wound close to his core. The one that, if he thinks too much about it, sends a searing hot electricity through him, filling him from crown to toe top-full of direst wrath.

(Danny was always the angrier one in the duo of Jason and Danny. He was always the one with glass in his mouth, cutting his teeth and tongue so that he could spit blood at the world around them. His knuckles had more blood and bruises on it than skin, once upon a time. All because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He has grown from it, that fury has turned to a small simmering candle.) (But sometimes, sometimes it rears its head, and electricity will buzz under Danny’s skin. There is lightning before the thunder, the second before a fist pulled to punch lands, the spark before it becomes a blaze.)

He stumbles over his words, and then sighs long and low, drooping his head. “I… was thinking that I can’t avoid this place forever.” He says, and the best lies always have the truth in it. Because it’s not a lie, not completely. But it’s not close enough to the truth either. “And that maybe if I came back, I’d be able to do something about those bad memories. Make them better or make it hurt less.”

Like wool over their eyes, it fools Sam and Tucker. Their narrowed eyes soften, and Danny feels like a snake is in his lungs as they both adopt their own versions of gentleness on their faces. “Oh, Danny.” Sam breathes out, and the snake squeezes, “Of course, we understand.”

Tucker nods, smiling at him. “Yeah, bro, that’s really brave of you. I know it can’t be easy coming back.” He says, “Maybe you can reconnect with the Waynes again, you always thought well of Mister Wayne whenever you came back from visiting.”

Danny smiles weakly, the gesture cutting into his cheeks like a knife. Perhaps he could. He was still upset with Bruce for hiding Jason’s killer from him. But he doesn’t hate him. Maybe five years ago, he did, when the death of Jason was still fresh in his mind and freshly bleeding in his heart. Now he just doesn’t know what to think of him. He was Batman. Jason was Robin, and the Joker killed Robin.

It would need to be something he’d have to speak to Bruce about in person, he thinks, in order to resolve it. To hear his judgment on it and make an opinion from there. Danny has learned in the last five years, much to Jazz’s smug delight, that talking to people about something he was upset about did make him feel better.

The conversation slips on from there into something more light, more breathable. And while they talk, Danny unpacks. He sets up his bed in the corner of the room, adjacent to the windows, and unpacks his cheap TV and table stand. It’s directly across from the couch, in front of the windows. He puts up knicks and knacks he’s collected over the years on the shelves.

When he puts up the curtains, he notices that more than one frame jiggles loosely. Sam makes a comment on the musty stains permanently dyed into the glass, and Danny talks about getting something to fix the cracks. Gotham winters can get brutal, and even if he can withstand the cold, doesn’t mean everything else in his apartment can.

“Oh, watch this.” He says halfway through unpacking, and pulls out a stick of thick white chalk from a box. “This is something I learned from Clockwork a while back; I think he knew I was going to move to Gotham.” He grins sillily, popping into the camera frame to show them. “I wonder how?”

Sam rolls her eyes, smiling while Tucker huffs. “It’s not like he’s the Master of Time and can see all past, present, and future.” Tucker snarks.

Danny hums lightly, curt like he isn’t sure he believes Tucker, and walks to a piece of bare wall not yet blocked by furniture. He starts to draw on it. The chalk shimmers with faint ectoplasm on the wall.

“Uhh…” Tucker’s voice cuts through, “Are you sure you should be doing that? Won’t you get in trouble for that?”

“There are bullet holes in the plaster, Tucker.” Danny retorts dryly, arching his hand to make a big circle. “I don’t think the landlord is gonna care if I get washable chalk on his walls.” Inside the circle, he inscribes the symbols of the Infinite Realms. “I don’t think he’d be able to see it anyways, he was really old.”

When he is done, Danny steps back to admire his work. It’s not bad, he thinks, for a lack of practice. He tosses the chalk off to the side, it lands on the couch and rolls back into the cushions. Ectoplasm heats under his hand, slowly glowing from his fingertips before stretching down the rest of his palm.

Danny’s fingers press against the wall, into the center of the circle. The result is immediate, ectoplasm is siphoned off his hand and into the circle. It glows, and then swirls. He steps off to the side for Sam and Tucker to watch its transformation. The circle fills with a swirling pool of ectoplasm, like a smaller version of the basement portal, and then it warps and stretches.

It fills out a rectangular shape, shifting like taffy being pulled this way and that, before settling into a solid shape. It solidifies, and instead of a wall there is a glowing purple door, warped in nature and seemingly shifting like a trick of the eyes. He can hear the gentle hum of the zone standing next to it, and can see the carving of the circle in the wood.

He gestures dramatically, grinning from ear to ear. “Ta-da~” He sings, “A door to my haunt! For whenever I feel like visiting it.” He pats the wood, making a strange thunk-thunk sound. “And then watch this.”

Danny touches the circle again, and the door twists and recedes like water going down a drain. The circle flashes bright green, and then fades into nothing on the wall, invisible to the naked eye. “I can hide it whenever I want! So if I ever invite someone over—” which he doubts, “—I won’t have to worry about them asking, ‘Hey Danny? Why is there a creepy fucking door in your studio apartment?’”

He gets a pair of laughs for his efforts, and Danny grins wider.

Sam and Tucker have to end the call when Danny is nearly done unpacking, leaving him alone with only his thoughts and the Gotham ambience outside. There were only a few boxes left, and they promise to call him tomorrow. He tells them that they better keep that promise.

The silence that follows after they leave feels somberly, as if the reality of moving in has finally set in and filled the air with its loneliness. With its change. Finally, Danny lets the strangeness of moving back to Gotham hit him when he reaches the last box, and he stops to take another smoke break to let it settle.

It feels so strange to be back in Gotham, he thinks. He’s all grown up, or almost grown up. He can vote and pay taxes, but he doesn’t feel much older than he was at fourteen. There’s a disconnect that makes him feel sad.

There are cars running outside, driving by. He can only catch glimpses of them, his apartment faces an alleyway. There are dogs barking in the distance, strays he bets. It’s already dark out, and he wonders if he looks out the window he would see the bat-signal shining through the night and staining the permanent cloud that hangs over Gotham.

Bruce would be so disappointed if he learned the reason for Danny’s return to Gotham. But Danny’s not here for him. He’s here for someone far more important. And like that, the simmering anger that has tucked itself into the furthest corners of his heart starts slipping through. His heart has teeth, ready to strike and snarl and bite.

He crushes the cigarette in his hand and throws it away. When he opens the last box, it is with hands that tremble and with a face of stone. With a delicateness he does not feel, he reaches in and pulls a corkboard from the box. On the corner frame is a small, near inconspicuous carving of another ghost rune.

Danny hangs it up on an empty space on the wall, out of sight from the window. It’s plain, and he has nothing to pin to it. He presses the small rune on the corner, pushing ectoplasm into it. Unlike the door, it does not twist and warp and shape itself into something new. Instead it bursts into green flame, eating away at the board and revealing the same thing underneath it, just in dark blue-black-purple.

Now this board, this board Danny has something to pin to it. The newspaper he bought earlier sits abandoned on the counter, and Danny unrolls it with something like viciousness in his chest. On the front page is an image of a damaged street, and above it is titled: “JOKER STRIKES AGAIN, 3 DEAD AND 27 INJURED”

Danny rips out the first page, he rips out every mention of him. His hands shake and threaten to crumple the paper as he turns back to the board, there is hot blood pounding in his ears. There is an impending sense of finally in his chest, like a setting sun giving the stage to a starless night. There is a stern set in his jaw, five years of festering rage rushing forth like a tidal wave, threatening to make his vision swim.

It would be so easy, he thinks, to go out as Phantom right now and hunt the clown down. It would only take a night. All it would take is a night, and then he could sink his hands into the Joker’s chest and rip out his heart where he stood. It would be so easy.

The thought alone forces Danny to stop as he is hit with another rush of fury, really making his head and vision swim. Thorny vines wrap around his throat, making it hard to breathe. He stares at a spot on the wall until the shaking passes.

If he wants to be discreet about this, then he can’t do it now. Even if he wants to. He doesn’t want witnesses. He doesn’t want an audience. He made a mistake, telling Red Hood about his plan. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking at all. But he can only hope that the Hood hasn’t mentioned it to Bruce. He knows it hasn’t been long since they started working together. He hopes that the Hood has already forgotten about it.

He pins the newspaper clippings onto the black-blue-board, and stands back. It’s bare now, but it won’t be forever.

He presses the circle again, and the pinboard reverts back to its original blank state.

-----

Was I expecting to make a third part?? No. No I was not. I was also not expecting to make an entire google doc filled with summaries for short story ideas about this au that all tie into each other so that way if i DO continue this i have a skeleton pathway to follow rather than making everything up from scratch and potentially cornering myself

you can find this on ao3 or on tumblr 1 2 :)

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #childhood friends au #cw swearing #cw smoking #im calling them short stories bc if i call them chapters i might intimidate myself #fun fact every single chapter will have a crane wives lyric on it i am DETERMINED #i hope yall are subscribed to this on ao3 bc i almost didnt post this on tumblr #the fentons being good parents were a surprise to me too but also i never really planned on them being BAD parents #okay so they appear as negligent in the first post but we'll just call that a plothole #i had the idea that danny was the angrier one out of the duo earlier today and it felt like an epiphany #there's no guarantee of a next part but yk immm kinda hoping there is #on the docs the ending bullet point for this chapter was #'make it feel like a tv show where the seemingly inconspicuous and friendly character has something sinister up their sleeve'#WE know that danny's not inconspicuous in the least he's been thinking of this murder for the last five years. but nobody but red hood know #i had to come up with a in-story reason why danny doesnt kill the joker NOW but my out-of-story excuse is: there'd be no tension otherwise #its about the BUILD UP. Its about the RISING TENSION. Its about KNOWING that danny is planning to kill the Joker but you dont know WHEN #its about knowing that something is going to explode but never knowing when #i made the doc yesterday and spent my entire pluralism for educators class going thru the crane wives albums and looking up the lyrics and #matching them to the *checks doc* 18 short story prompts i have prepared #i am still missing one :((#its the tim and danny story and i have NOTHING PLANNED FOR THEM. i cant think of a thing for them to bond over :(( so i cant match a CW son #even DICK has a story and that was also a surprise #my favorite lines: He was always the one with glass in his mouth cutting his teeth and tongue so that he could spit blood at the world #aND danny slapping his door like a used car salesman and going 'now people wont ask why i have a creepy fucking door in my studio aptm :)'

276 notes · View notes

faunandfloraas · 13 days ago

Text

Seungmin saying they changed song by so it would be easier for people to watch and listen and then me seeing people going "Yes! It's good it's on tiktok and shorts now" and I'm like. Oh. You're all so fucking stupid <3

#half the videos were 10 minutes long #and i say this as an ADHD HAVER MYSELF #if you cant watch something that inst filled with bright colours yelling and childish humour #or a fucking tiktok length #like. well I have nothing to say to you actually highly doubtful you'd even read this far tbh 👍#like we'll never get anything more earnest and serious from skz again if things keep going this way #like the fact these no attention span people keep being catered too is so........... No #same with the songs- I complained about the songs all being fucking 2 minutes 20 seconds #like we all know its b/c of ig reels tiktok and yt shorts we all know this but Fuck who cares lets just go along i guess #i don't think people should watch stuff they are not interested in. i really don't.#but the amount of comments i read on those videos that were just so Nothing #no thought at all #idk like maybe try to listen to what hes saying and formulate anything outside of 'Omg best vocal best visual how many international fans?!#yk what i mean?#you bothered to watch it how about using your brain a little #also makes his whole Im Trying To Get A Moment in all the codes lowkey like.... yeah you pretty much do have to do that huh #like. they cant have down days or quiet days. Just be on all the time and be acting and funny all the time b/c thats all anyone wants-#so cool #there's no room for earnestness. no room for being a little thoughtful and serious. nuh uh #hopefully he does go back to explaining his thoughts after the tour but tbh I dont have a lot of hope for that :)

34 notes · View notes

forlorn-crows · 10 months ago

Note

Ooooooo Crow u wanna write about Mist milking Zeph's cute little tits soooooo bad

-Void

i hate you for ever suggesting that 1) zephyr has little titties and 2) they wreak havoc on the others by making them leak

what do you get when you put a strict top and a dom in the same room? you get a very soup-brained air ghoul who absolutely "hates" losing to daddy mist and her clever fingers

they/them zephyr (cock for their anatomy) and she/her intersex mist (cock/cunt for hers, though only the cock is mentioned here). good ole lactation kink w/a spicy side of Daddy mist ahead

If you asked Zephyr if they liked to be broken, taken down to studs, they'd vehemently deny it. Very few things—and very few ghouls—can ruffle their feathers and challenge that cool, unbothered facade that graces their features. If they’re ever submitting, it’s their idea, through and through. They swear it.

Mist is the anomaly.

Zephyr doesn’t know how she gets them to play (and lose) her little games. They’ll swear up and down they hate her dirty talk, her degradation, hate the way she can get their eyes to roll from just a little pinch to their nipples, hate how she makes their brain go fuzzy by simply grinding their cocks together. Somehow, she never fails to break them down to the barest of bones—and suck out the marrow while she’s at it.

They hate it. You have to believe them.

“You like being daddy’s little baby, don’t you?” Mist coos at them now, straddling their lap with them bullied straight-backed against the headboard. Tiny hands roaming all over their neck, their chest. Pressing and prodding at all the spots that somehow make them incapable of forming coherent thoughts.

Zephyr makes some unintelligible protest, a pink blush blooming on their cheeks.

“I think you do,” Mist answers for them. “You don’t have to pretend for me, hm?” She smooths her thumb across their lips, smirking when they part easily. “There you are, no need for scowling. Daddy’ll make it better.”

Her hands float back down to their tits, puffy and full and begging for attention. Mist had pulled them into her room when she noticed the twin spots on their t-shirt this morning, even through the black fabric. She had licked her fangs, giving them her signature predatory look that meant You’re mine.

Mist tweaks one of their nipples, sighing happily when a drop of fluid leaks out and drips onto their pants. She pinches the other, wringing a drop out of that one too.

“Takes nothing to get you to leak, does it, little bird?” The water ghoulette cups their swollen chest with both hands, framing pert nipples between her thumb and pointer fingers. Squeezing against the build up of pressure just so, just until that sweet milk flows out and dribbles over her hands.

“Mist,” Zephyr groans, wringing their hands into the sheets. “Lucifer, oh.”

She echoes their noise with an empathetic, slightly exaggerated one of her own. “So wet, baby. Just like a water ghoul,” she tuts.

Their cock kicks in their pants traitorously. They try to shake their head, deny it somehow. But it’s futile under Mist’s nimble hands and her wicked tongue.

“You are though, look at that.” She holds up a hand in front of their nose, wet with streaks of milk. Zephyr whimpers—curse the Dark One below, they fucking whimper—head lolling backwards like it’s just too heavy for their shoulders. A sure sign of their imminent defeat once again.

Mist knows it too. Always knows when they reach the delicious point of no return. She surges forward, melting her body against theirs, looming over them with a gaze so piercing it could cut glass. Hungry. She rubs her nose along Zephyr’s, slow and teasing. Relishing in the fact she’s about to take away the last shreds of their control.

“Want a taste, little bird?” she whispers, holding their chin and slipping her thumb between their lips.

The roll of her hips that follows and the taste of themselves on their tongue is just the beginning of their demise.

#crow caws #void #ficlet #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #crow writes #mist ghoulette #zephyr ghoul #mist/zephyr #zephyr/mist #zephyr x mist #mist x zephyr #intersex mist #cw: lactation kink #i hope you like void im kind of on the struggle bus today so its short <3 #yeah you fuckin got me #*points at you* your turn to write zephyr and mountain tho #i know this isnt everyones thing sorry if you were hoping for somethin else

68 notes · View notes

ywpd-translations · 1 year ago

Text

Ride 755: Departure 2

Pag 1

2: Ding ding

3: The boarding the flight number 621 to Fukuoka, departing at 10:30 will close soon

4: If you're boarding, please speak to the staff member closest to you

Pag 2

2: Ah, that guy is angry

Shh

3: Oi

4: He said “I'm coming”, right?

Yessir!! I called him thirty times but he only picked up once....

He just said “soon”....

5: Then why aren't you here, Manamii!!

Pag 3

1: There's the Inter High soon, the Inter High!! Buah!!

So-sorry, I even sent many messages, but his current location-

It's been more than thirty minutes since you've said that, how's that soon!?

Pag 4

1: “Arriving late is a crime”!!

“Causing troubles is a serious crime”!!

Yessir

We told him that, too!!

3: Alright, I put Manami's ticket there, let's go

Huh!? Next to the window!?

That's a little-

Enough

4: Let's go, Yuuto, Tobirama

This time we'll fight as five people in the Inter High

'lright

Yes

No, but, he's the captain!?

Can't be

5: Ah... this must be my ticket

Pag 5

1: Kyushu

3: Take me there, too!!

4: Waaaa, Manami-saan!!

I'm so glad you came!!

Thank you so much!!

Well...

You really are like an here who arrives in the moment of need!!

Pag 6

1: Oi, don't misunderstand!! We were the ones in a pinch and this guy was the culprit!!

Yessir!

Sorry!

Ah, you exposed me...

2: Don't think you can dodge the matter of your tardiness just with your mood and cute face!!

Ah I thought I could make it

3: So?

Why... why were you late?

4: Ahh, I forgot my passport, then I remembered and turned back to get it

5: Ohhh... that's a problem indeed...

Wait!! You don't need a passport to go to Kyushu, right!?

Pag 7

1: Woah!! That was a clever excuse, Manami-san (It was so cool!)

It wasn't clever, and now let's go!!

Did you doze off?

2: Mh...? Well, on the train... it was only one stop?

So he really slept too much...?!

3: Jou-kun and Yuzukoshi-kun went on ahead?

4: They went there with yesterday's flight

Huh!

5: So, when you said “passport”, earlier- what was it, really?

6: Did you really turned back to go get something?

7: Mhh, how should I put it

8: In order to fulfill the final promise....

Pag 8

1: “The final promise”?

It was

3: a necessary piece

4: You're still wearing that ridiculous hat, Manami?

Ah... it's the one Ashikiba-san wanted last year... (Yuuto)

This is for exclusive use during the Inter High

Ohh... “exclusive use”, cool (Tobirama)

Pag 9

2: Kyoto... Kyoto...

7: Small fries!!

Pag 10

1: Then, should we go?

Are you...

Pag 11

1: finally ready?!

2: Yes....!!

3: Mi!!

6: This year's victory will be ours

Our long-awaited victory

Pag 12

1: It's checkmate!!

2: They're coming!!

3: They're coming!! One by one, to this land of Kyushu!!

4: Won't it favour us!? It's our hometown – us, Kumamoto Daichi!!

#yowamushi pedal #yowamushi pedal translations #yowapeda #yowapeda manga #yowamushi pedal manga #yowamushi pedal spoilers #ride 755 #another short chapter i really hope sensei is okay!!#I dont mind the short chap at all (especially bc lately ive had little time to translate) but im kinda worried :')#This chapter was so asdhsdfksdg Manamiiiii you absolute disaster #who would have thought that the responsible one in this team would end up being doubash huh #now that's the surprising thing lmao #manami really went back to get the best boy cap i cant with him #btw i dont remember; does he know that the one who gave him the cap is onoda's mum?? how does he know #'i went back bc i had forgotten my passport' 'you dont need a passport to go to kyushu!?!?!?' ashdkasdfs well at lest he tried lmao #also 'Yuzukoshi-kun'??? is he the other hakogaku member?? :eyes emoji:#cant wait to see what other weirdo hakogaku will have this year #i think this year's hakogaku is the weirdest one - which is a lot tbh #i feel like its going to be my fave hakogaku team #btw doubashi wanting to leave manami behind and just run as five assdgfkdfgs hes right and tbh he should just do just that whenever manami #doesnt show up - 'well i guess we're a five people team from now on'#btw i love i we saw everyone! only kiji's team is missing #(maybe theyll shop up next chapter who knows wanatabe loves kiji enough that it wouldnt surprise me)#midosuji shows up for exactly one panel and hes already creepy af i love him #cant wait to get to know the new guy!!#and hiroshima!!!! cant wait to see them try so hard and then get defeated in the most pathetic ways like every year #i love them i cant wait to see what kind of weirdo higashimura has become #he was kinda normal last year but we cant have a normal person as the hiroshima captain lrb #and then theres kumadai #acting all important and then we all know theyll do absolutely nothing ajsgfksadf

91 notes · View notes

wickmitz · 3 months ago

Note

How do you think about Frepper? I'm neutral about this ship, but the fans Frepper attitude towards confuses me, Ivy and Freckle have only been dating for a week and know each other superficially, but everyone already thinks that by the end of the comic they will get married, I think differently, I think that in the end they will break up with each other because they are too different personalities, I literally can't imagine that both of them will be happy with each other in marriage, Ivy is assertive and active, on the other hand Freckle is passive and just agrees with Ivy, this is not a guarantee of a healthy relationship where a partner completely dominates the other, plus to all that, I will not forget how their relationship started, Ivy just decided that they were dating, and without asking Freckle's permission, she just KISSED him, again without his permission, Frepper fans think that it's cute, but when I saw it, I thought "what the hell did I just see?", in general, it's strange for me that Frepper fans are okay with such things, of course later Freckle shows attraction to Ivy, showing that he likes her in some way too, but I still won't forget how their relationship started and how Freckle used to try to escape from Ivy when she squeezed his hand tightly and forced him to her …

I'm not against Frepper, but I don't understand his fans who don't see these issues and who treat other points of view on their relationship (like mine) as … um, as nonconformity? Fans from reddit are just obsessed with Frepper, I don't know about other networks but that's how it is on reddit, I think there are people who have my opinion but are afraid to say it because of fans, of course, I met Frepper fans there who normally accept such an opinion, but still there is a feeling that such a opinion cannot be told

Simply put, Ivy and Freckle are a couple that will eventually break up with each other unless there's an event between them in the comic that changes my opinion of this couple, but that's how I feel about Freckle for now. I didn't plan to express my opinion, but it happened that way, I hope you don't mind it

first and foremost, i don’t mind seeing someone express their opinion in my inbox! you and anyone else are free to do so, even if i may disagree. this blog’s entire existence was made for me to share my opinions ( and love! ) for lackadaisy, as well as engaging with other fans, because what else is the point of a fandom blog? and as far as i’m aware, this is unpopular opinion central! most of my thoughts aren’t exactly the ones with the most voice behind them i’ve found, so i welcome all manner of different views. every fan is entitled to their own perspectives and opinions, and should be allowed to share them as they please! but with that disclaimer out of the way, i’m more than willing to discuss frepper in its entirety.

for me, there’s little confusion i carry where it concerns this ship’s popularity amongst the fandom. freckle and ivy, if we are to strip them down to their bare essentials, are a rather stereotypically ‘cute’ relationship : people enjoy opposites ( see zibwick or vikdecai for example ) and there’s an endearing quality found in puppy love dynamics. seeing ivy wear the pants and drag a shy freckle around by his ankle makes for quality content in a way! think the ‘excuse me, but he asked for no pickles!’ meme … ivy and freckle very much fit that sort of mold, and it helps that most fans are too scared to ship them with other characters in the cast too, due to what they perceive to be a lack of options. thus, frepper is an extremely ‘safe’ ship! you cannot get in trouble for enjoying something that is not only canon, but is relatively adorable ; and so i don’t believe a lot of the fans are actually thinking too deeply about the likely endgame of it all. most don’t! it’s fun to ship, and that’s all they really need i think. it’s also very easy to dismiss ivy’s forwardness as a quirk of being a young girl who’s of her temperament, recklessly boycrazy although still carrying sweet intent. this behavior is easier to hand wave when neither ivy or freckle are experienced at the dating scene as well … freckle due to his extremely religious upbringing and hermit nature, and ivy because of viktor’s constant meddling, which would hold her back more than you’d think. with that said, i don’t think any of this is excessively complicated. some shippers are rather simple minded and do not care for details and characterization all too deeply. enjoying dynamics is, at its core, supposed to be fun -- which makes simple ships like frepper prime targets for a very vocal and tight knit fanbase. there are other things i could speculate about why these two may hit so pleasantly for others, like how there’s an underlying queer theme to it ( what with ivy being the pursuer and freckle the shy, blushing flower ) or that it’s tropey enough to hit the right spots for others … though it all boils back to mere speculation. perhaps they still have time to escape this gangster lifestyle and live happily ever after? and that appeals to the lackadaisy fans who still want some sort of happy ending? it’s all a combination of frepper being easy, i think, and containing two young cats who still haven’t done anything particularly ‘unforgivable’ yet action wise. this is a ship you can root for without an ounce of worry in your heart, and so on and so forth.

but although i understand why others are so vocal about them, i don’t exactly agree with fanon’s views either! while i heavily enjoy frepper, i enjoy them as they are, and that includes their looming flaws and inevitable tragedy. they are bound to break each other’s hearts a lot on their current path ; even if they were entirely perfect for one another, this lifestyle isn’t kind to anyone, meaning if they don’t separate, they could always be forced apart via bullets and such anyway. they are young and woefully inexperienced in a manner of things, the last thing they need is the stress of a rumrunner life driving their every action, you know? i know people see them getting out together, and that is likely on the table! i do see that in many ways, but i’m also of the opinion that ivy and freckle will diverge onto different paths at some point and temporarily call it quits. from where the comic currently stands and given my view on ivy’s arc, i see her growing disillusioned with where she is and the honor and fun she saw within it as a royal spectator will fade ; she will become wary, fearful, and her resilience will die … meanwhile freckle will embrace it, similar to his cousin, fully understanding what it is and what he’s getting into ( like rocky, again ) but being unable to leave his refuge. i know lots of people think freckle will leave the lackadaisy first, but given his old concepts and former title as one of mitzi’s ‘trouble boys’, i think he will become lost in the sauce for a myriad of reasons. frankly i enjoy that twist on their relationship! since i believe ivy’s character development will revolve around maturing, changing as time stretches forward, because her character is ever growing, what with her entire schtick being the fact she’s everything a 1920s girl was during those times. she embodies that unladylike youth and manipulative sweetness, so i’d imagine a lot of her path is falling from such naive thrill seeking and stumbling upon a harsh reality. she will mature, and the very thing that should make their relationship stronger will be what divides them indefinitely. everything they have is founded on this bloody, varnished soaked ground after all … they are young adults who are experiencing what closeness feels like outside of family or platonic friends for the first time, so naturally they will overindulge in their own amateur games ; find respite in the boogie and kiss like couples do on the silver screen, laugh about it, talk about everything and nothing at all … relish in each other’s warmth and stupidly loyal protection. i’m sure frepper will grow closer before any falling out, because as it stands, it’s one of the few things they have in such a scary situation that feels comforting and kind. they will impact each other in the fundamental ways first relationships do and, to move towards your biggest gripe, do things they’ll regret or allow things to happen to them that they’re not entirely okay with.

ivy is very forceful with freckle initially, albeit in her typical saturated way ; and i can see why that would be hard to parse! especially when freckle spends a majority of their first scenes together squirming away and hiding, trying to duck her affections and bolt for it. there is a lot of boundary crossing between them! but not in a necessarily malicious way … like most things with frepper, this circles back to their mutual inexperience and how, in a lot of ways, this is their first ‘serious’ romantic relationship ever. and it’s rather common for such firsts to involve gray areas, since neither party is entirely sure of what their own boundaries are just yet! while freckle did appear frightened by ivy at first, it’s important to note that tracy’s mentioned him having a flight response whenever girls flirt with him … he is prone to run away instinctively, which if you consider his extremely religious upbringing, isn’t exactly a surprise. nina would no doubt look down upon freckle engaging with girls his age due to what most girls his age are currently doing in the roaring 20s they’re living in. sneaking out and engaging in illegal activities, dancing in a way that would disgust most of the more traditional and older generation, casually engaging in any manner of sexual activity before marriage, etc etc. and this isn’t even listing freckle’s cagey nature due to an incident we know was bad enough to send rocky packing for years, and fundamentally changed freckle himself at such a young and impressionable age. he is … very troubled! and rather scared of himself and the world around him … at this stage in life, freckle is perpetually unable to make any progress towards anything he may want, and so i have little problem myself with ivy mostly taking the lead. when left to his own devices and allowed to choose outside of influence, freckle did in fact sneak out of his mother’s house to go to the lackadaisy, surely well aware that ivy’s intention had been romantically inclined. so, to me, he has always liked her ; perhaps found her cute, in a shallow way, saw her eccentric behavior as endearing and frightening in equal measure, and while he’s still wading into this whirlwind pool unsteady and shaken, he -- wouldn’t mind it if ivy pushed a little more, or moved him around to her ( and what she perceives to be, their ) liking. perhaps this dynamic is familiar enough to him that it becomes comforting, since rocky was very much the same way in their adolescence. tugging freckle around and pulling his tail for whatever rocky wanted them to do, with little care for whatever his baby cousin desired at the time, ignoring his protests and chasing him ; nobody’s at fault here either, kids are extremely self absorbed and this is a flaw they’ll usually mature past, and while ivy and freckle are adults during the comic, i don’t think ivy’s outgrown this linear view on things just yet. she is extremely entitled! she is used to being the apple of everyone’s eye at the speakeasy due to her jazz baby status as atlas may’s goddaughter, and this gangster connection excites and awes the ladies she attends classes with at her university too. ivy pepper is used to getting her way and this has only fueled her determined attitude, her ‘pull it up by the bootstraps’ mindset, and in many ways, this is something of a flaw for her. it’s not bad to be confident and headstrong, although when you add that into a dangerous mix of rumrunning and gunslinging, it may become a problem rather quickly. but i digress! point is, ivy and freckle are hardly at fault for the awkward way they handled the start of their relationship, when it’s so new and fresh to them both.

neither of them have boundaries at this moment, as they either have no clue what those are or simply haven’t realized they should set them. so, in turn, there are things that the other may do that could cause their partner discomfort … and it’s mostly done out of obliviousness and good intentions and your classic dose of intense affection. doesn’t mean it isn’t messed up to a degree, but i think it’s rather realistic, and is a hard truth that comes with many first relationships of that sort. sometimes you don’t know how to say ‘no,’ or you agree and regret agreeing later, or perhaps you simply don’t understand there’s certain things you aren’t ready for or genuinely just don’t like. again, it’s a very muddied area, and the two of them are vaguely navigating what is mostly foreign to them. they’re bound to mess up! so i ivy some slack here, and applaud tracy on the realistic writing more than anything usually. young love also happens to be a great device to use for inexperienced characters finding themselves, through the good and bad of their relationship, and frepper is all about that. maybe freckle will inevitably bring up how he feels like he would’ve preferred it had ivy asked him out properly, or gave him time to court her in a traditional fashion … and she will be surprised ( and a little wounded ) by this, since she had never considered it before … too used to her way of things to realize there’s another path they could take. i think this aspect of the relationship is important, and i can understand wishing that more frepper shippers would view it as such, or comment on it's morally gray nature without just calling it ‘cute’ and leaving it at that.

tldr : they will most certainly break up at some point, maybe even multiple times! tracy has said before that they both have some serious maturing to do if their relationship is to be long lasting, and i doubt that maturing will happen to them both at once … since they have different things to work on emotionally. but they will probably strongarm some major personal development within each other, as well as love one another with a fierceless abandon that most kids do. i could see them getting married, i could see them not, but i agree that if they were to be wed happily, they’d have significant hurdles to overcome. but personally, frepper is something i adore mostly due to the impact they’re bound to cause each other, and even if they are to separate and find someone new and more fitting, they’ll always remember one another -- perhaps fondly, and sadly, and with some anger. a time they’d like to forget, but a person they’d like to remember … which is my cup of tea overall! they much more interest me as they presently are anyway, where i can fiddle around with their budding romance and friendship bonding. and as lackadaisy grows in popularity, i do hope there’s more frepper fans who see their complexity and flaws and explore them with all of it in mind.

anyway! i hope this was coherent, and that it was obvious that i agreed with you for the most part. i haven’t really talked about frepper before with anyone so many of these thoughts sort of burst out of me! and i feel like i have more to elaborate upon, but for the sake of simplicity i kept this short. oh well! surely this is enjoyable and informative regardless.

#my asks.#lackadaisy analysis.#lackadaisy #freckle mcmurray #ivy pepper #as always frepper fans who just like them for their cute potential is SO valid #ship what you want how you want yada yada! i support you!!#but i’m here for discussing the good the bad and the ugly … so i was very happy to recieve this ask! thank you so much!!#i also understand what its like to share what you or others perceive to be the ‘wrong’ opinion about a ship or a character or something #so you have my sympathies and i hope you find better spaces to express yourself lackadaisy wise!!#anyway. yeah. i do think people are prone to view ivy as extremely experienced due to her many boyfriends!!#but given the fact she doesn’t date them LONG is. well it’s not an accurate assessment.#viktor ( bless his well intentioned heart ) has drastically thwarted that brand of maturity on ivy’s end #and has likely caused a sort of insecurity … by maiming her boyfriends and having them leave her. acting as if she has the plague!#that would hurt any girl’s feelings — if they didn’t know why. and i think these short lived flames have caused ivy to like …#speedrun her relationships? she is very quick to jump in and stay … because she fears the time limit perhaps. which adds to her forwardness #again! she had no idea it was viktor until the comic’s current events where she’s already WITH freckle. which is important to me #she is inexperienced in her own ways … freckle’s inexperience just happens to be more obvious due to the simplicity of it #god this was so fun to answer <3 thank you! again! hope my thoughts on the matter were decent enough #i’ll hush now with my over analyzing ass ( <- is it obvious my fave thing ever is characterization yet? lol )#( also cannot state enough freckle and ivy are Adults To Me. not five year olds!#but saying ‘young’ and ‘kid’ was easier than being like … emotionally immature and stunted adults every five seconds. so!#that is what i went with. for simplicity’s sake. but that are adults!! that is important! just very inexperienced ones )

21 notes · View notes

hanzajesthanza · 4 months ago

Text

dandelion is indeed the worst but if he’s not present in the next book i would legitimately be sorrowful as the whole thing will become a slog . you basically cannot have the “short stories” era-of-the-timeline iteration of geralt without dandelion, it would be like eating unbuttered bread.

though it’s not like season of storms did them dirty, i wasn’t disappointed with it (… with regards to them), but since it’s literally been over 20 years since the saga was finished i’m trying to prepare for any potential reality

#however i will accept an absence of dandelion IN THE CASE OF we get to see geralt and yennefer living together in vengerberg #but if it’s regular geralt day in the life then if dandelion’s not there it’s gonna suuuuuccckk #i mean as in geralt’s life sucks without him. badly #and it also? sucks with him. good-ly.#it’s august and we don’t have a title yetttt 🥲 and they said 2024 … hmhm sure #i just feel like rupaul ‘and don’t fuck it up’.gif #like i’m excited but also wtf? new witcher book? are we on punk’d?#it’s not going to be the best but i’m hoping it will be at least as good as season of storms. not a high bar ok!#this from the person who was optimistic about the n*tflix show. don’t trust me i like to believe in the future #i was going to say ‘and i trust sapkowski more than i trust n*tflix’ and then i laughed.#i don’t trust him—i don’t even trust the version of him from the 90s and 00s!#one side of me can’t believe i’m still here after the guardswomen of kerack. and the ‘well i’m only gay for clout’ villain motivations #the other side of me is intensely curious wtf geralt will get up to this time and how witcher could maybe even denigrate further #but season of storms ending was actually good and = well it’s not like sapkowski forgot what it was about #then again it’s been 10 years and a bad adaptation since then so im biting my nails #all i ask : please stick with the naming convention of the other books. i don’t want to write an absurdly long or short name or acronym out #sooooo weird that in a few months i will be saying: there are 9 witcher books.#actually rn i just say there’s 7 and discount season of storms as a legitimate heir but mention it as footnote lol #i just hope i can survive until this new book and until its translation LOLLLL #they said translation in 2025 but you know the track record #new book: *releases winter 2024* | english translation: coming 2045!#jk i think they finally figured out that witcher is a money printer so they will be eager to translate it now and not waffle around #they kicked their butts into gear with the hussite trilogy so ! and they made new hardcovers.#the elbow-high diaries #new book 2024

24 notes · View notes

solarpunkani · 11 months ago

Text

The Lost Doll - A Short Story

To say that Arrden was in trouble didn’t even begin to describe his situation right now. He was screwed, utterly screwed, in deep doo doo. Deep.

He’d lost track of his little sister’s favorite doll again, a third strike on his record for being responsible. Not only that, but he’d lost it out in the city--where he and his sister weren’t even supposed to be in the first place! There was no way he would be able to explain himself to Mom and Dad without getting himself in trouble!

So there was only one solution. He’d have to go back out there and hunt it down, before either of them noticed it was gone.

“Arry! I want my dolly back!” his sister whined, but Arrden quietly shushed her.

“If you stay quiet, I’ll go get it and bring you some sweets!” he said.

Daisy hummed, her lip poking out into a powerful pout as she crossed her arms. “...gimme good sweets. From Junebugs!”

“Junebugs?!” what was he supposed to barter to get some of Junebugs’ candied fruit?! He was already pushing it just going out again, let alone bringing something to trade! “I can’t get anything from Junebugs, how about Missy Anne’s?”

Daisy responded by tilting her head back and yelling. “Daddyyy!”

“Okay, okay, okay! I’ll get you something from Junebugs, just don’t tell Dad yet!”

Daisy harrumphed, but nodded. At that same moment, their Dad came rushing up the stairs. “What’s going on up here, is everything alright?”

“I want uppies!!” Daisy beamed, reaching up with her little arms. Their dad laughed and reached down to pick her up, holding her close to his chest with a squeeze that made her giggle. While he was distracted, Arrden hurried downstairs to grab his bag and his skateboard.

“Hey, Arrden! Where’re you going?” his father called out.

Arrden froze in his tracks. Shit. “Uh! I wanted to go hang out at the library, maybe get more books!” That wasn’t entirely a lie--he did have to go to the library to check if they’d left the doll there during their earlier visit. And he did want to check out a book too.

“Alright, but can you get me some eggs from the Ferns on your way back? We’ll need them for breakfast tomorrow, bring her a few cuttings from the garden!”

Score! If he could take a few extra flower cuttings, he might be able to trade something for some Junebugs! “Okay, Dad! I won’t be too long, promise!”

Before his dad could ask any more questions, Arrden slipped out of the front door and hurried into the garden, picking the trimmers and two glass jars from the gardening table to set to work. Calendulas, rudbeckias, zinnias, and a few stems of milkweeds all found their way into the jar, which he placed into his tote as he slung it over his shoulder. He hopped over the fence, onto his skateboard, and was cruising out towards the rest of the town in a matter of moments.

Gliding through the town on his board, he took a moment to appreciate it all--it was home, so he was used to it, but it really was so pretty. In school they’d been studying how things were just a few decades ago--an era he remembered faintly, but had no real fond memories for. He was younger than Daisy is now when their town started being remade into what it was, solar panels on every rooftop, gardens big and small bursting out of every crevice one could fit dirt into. Stained glass adorned practically every building, murals of suns and moons and plants and animals on any blank wall that wasn’t already overgrown with vining flowers. Maybe it was because he was old enough to ride around on a skateboard by himself, but things felt… smaller, than they did before. On bad days, it could be stifling, but on good days it was cozy. Most days were good days.

It didn’t take too long to get to the market plaza. He didn’t even have to look up to know he’d arrived, the light changing to pinks and oranges and yellows as he passed under the mess of fabric tarps overhanging the entire square. There were quite a few stands out today, some offering little baubles made of recycled plastic, or carved wooden statues of deer and bears and foxes, and the instrument maker was even offering a new guitar or two. Ooh, he’d have to save up for that. If he could prove himself responsible enough to maintain a spinning wheel, his friend Azzy had a few sheep, and they were always willing to give him wool to spin into yarn. Or better--if he could keep bees, to make honey and beeswax, that made for good trades.

Being responsible enough was the one thing he probably wasn’t today, since he’d lost his sister’s doll.

Technically, Daisy had lost the doll, but it was still Arrden’s fault because he’d taken her out of the house while Dad was away at book club earlier. Oh, they’d explored the town together, gone everywhere Arrden knew she enjoyed, to cheer her up. She’d been stuck inside for days now--battling a nasty ear infection--but now that she was feeling better, she’d been begging to be let outside. Their parents said to wait just a few more days, to make sure she’d truly beaten it. Unfortunately, Arrden was weak to Daisy’s puppy dog eyes, and had whisked her away to explore all their favorite stomping grounds, getting her back home just before their dad got home. And apparently she’d dropped the doll somewhere on their adventures, and now here he was.

He stopped by the seed stand--Daisy always loved looking at the mystifying colors of Mister Peters’ glass gem corn, or reaching into the big bags of beans and letting them run through her little fingers. They’d definitely stopped here today--after all, Mister Peters’ son Kendall was working the stand, and he and Arrden had always been buddies.

“Hey, man!” Kendall beamed, reaching over the desk to tousle Arrden’s afro. Arrden mock-whined and nudged the taller boy off of him, rolling his eyes before sending him a grin. “You back again already? Did your Ma tell you to pick up more flower seeds? We're almost out of Liatris for the season.”

“Nah, it’s Ma’s working season. She doesn’t get back home till just before sunset. Did you see my sister’s doll anywhere around here? She lost it while we were out,” Arrden asked.

Kendall tutted at him, bead-adorned dreads swishing back and forth as he shook his head. “C’mon, man, you’re never gonna get those hives if you keep losing your sister’s stuff.”

“It’s not my fault she keeps dropping it! If she cares about it so much, you’d think she’d keep track of it better!”

“Yeah, and if you cared about getting those hives and that spinning wheel, you wouldn’t keep riskin’ it by taking her out with it.”

“Like she goes anywhere without it!”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Kendall arched a brow at him.

Arrden sighed. “I know, I know. But Daisy was so sad! I couldn’t not take her with me!”

“Well, let’s just hope you get that doll back. Oh! Mrs. Fern wants me and Dad to plant a garden near her chicken coops next week, Dad said I can invite any friends I want. Next Saturday, nine AM, her place?”

“...won’t the chickens just eat all the seeds again, like they did last year?”

“Oh, of course they’re going to, but Mrs. Fern’s gonna make us a big apple pie for all our hard work, and I know you want in on it.”

“You should’ve lead with the apple pie, man, I’m in! But I’ve gotta get going, text me about it later?”

“You know it! Good luck on finding that doll!”

Arrden left him with a final wave, hopping back onto his skateboard and wheeling off further into the market place.

Unfortunately, no other stands had his sister’s lost doll. He tried every other one they’d gone to--the bead and jewelry stand, the stand for the Watters’ farm selling baby chicks and a lamb, the one for the new artist that had moved to town a few months back--no such luck.

The next best bet was the big, round, blue and yellow tent at the end of the marketplace. It was where Luna sang songs to entertain kids while their parents browsed the wares at the market in peace. It was never really Arrden’s thing growing up--he preferred poking his nose into his parents’ business, seeing what they were getting and running around making trouble for himself. But his sister loved the tent and ol’ Luna, and would beg to stop there even when it was just the two of them. So he ducked inside to check the seats.

Fortunately, Luna wasn’t performing right now. Instead, there was a younger girl, just tuning up the guitar in anticipation for the next batch of kids. She looked up with a bright smile as he stepped in. “Hello, there! Anything I can help you with?”

Arrden froze. That was not Old Lady Luna. That was Pretty Girl Sasi, the girl who sat in front of him in class. He definitely didn’t have a crush on her! Absolutely not, no matter how much his friends insisted he turned red as a tomato around her, he did not have a crush on her! She was just. Really pretty! And he didn’t know how to handle that!

“O-Oh, Sasi! I--I wasn’t expecting--I thought--Old Lady Luna--” he stammered, feeling his neck get hot.

“Luna’s my aunt, I’m helping her for the weekend in exchange for more guitar lessons.” Sasi said, standing to her feet and brushing long, silky black hair over her shoulder. “I’m sure she’d love to teach more people, if you wanted to do lessons together sometime?”

Honestly, Arrden had never had much interest in learning guitar, but now he was half-tempted to trade the flowers in his bag for that pretty new guitar at the instrument seller’s stand. “Oh! Uh--I--maybe! I’ll see if I can--ah--” his brain went numb for a second, and Sasi sent him an amused look as he briefly opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Wasn’t he here for something? Right! “Have you seen my sister’s doll? I--my sister was here earlier, and she lost her doll, and I dunno if it might’ve been here or… y’know. Y’know?”

Sasi giggled, making her way over to a basket tucked away to the side. “Well, I dunno what her doll looks like specifically, but my aunt always puts stuff kids leave behind in this basket. Wanna check?”

Arrden nodded and got to his knees, sorting through the basket a moment. There were a handful of dolls there--some little brown bears or orange foxes, others moreso resembling people, but none of them were Daisy’s little flower doll. He had to wonder if there were tons of brothers ripping and running around town trying to find their little siblings’ dolls today, or if these had been left for months and years with no owner. It made him a bit sad, and for a moment he missed his own little childhood doll, even though Black Cat still sat safely on a shelf in his room.

As he stood back up, Sasi frowned. “It’s not there? I hope you find it.”

“I hope so too. I’ve got a few more places to check, though, so fingers crossed!” Arden sighed, adjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder. Sasi grinned, bangles clinking as she held up her own hands with their fingers crossed, prompting him to do the same. “Oh! My friend Kendall’s dad is planting flowers at Mrs. Ferns’ chicken coop next Saturday at nine, you’ll probably wanna ask him to be sure, but I think it’d be cool if you came! We’ll get apple pie after, too!”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

“I don’t think you’d be intruding! I mean--I’ll text Kendall and ask if you can come, but I doubt he’d say no!”

Sasi awkwardly rubbed her arm, her shoe nudging a divot into the soft dirt under them. “I’ve never really gardened before… I don’t think I’ve planted a seed since I was little, none of my family’s ever been good at it…”

“Oh! Between me and Kendall, you’ll be a pro in no time!”

“Then… maybe I’ll try it. Oh, I think my mom wanted to ask your dad to plant some moonflower seedlings by our gazebo… unless you wanted to come and do it sometime? We could trade numbers and figure out a time…”

Butterflies danced in Arrden’s stomach as he whipped his phone out of his pocket. “Y-Yeah, sure, let’s trade numbers--” unfortunately, he whipped it out so fast the phone flew out of his hand and plopped into the dirt by Sasi’s feet. The girl laughed a bit, bending down to get it and offer it back to him, and he smiled sheepishly. “Th-Thanks, Sasi…”

In just a few moments, the two had exchanged numbers and sent the customary ‘hey this is Arrden’ or ‘Hi this is Sasi’ texts, well on their way to expanding their friendship. Sasi even watched him leave from the opening of the tent, waving him goodbye as he skated away.

Arrden found himself humming a love song all the way to the pet store.

Right, he and Daisy had come here for cat food! After all, Arrden’s crime today hadn’t been leaving the house, but leaving the house with Daisy. He’d stopped to grab food and a new toy for their housecat, Shadow. Daisy had wanted to come along to see the adoptable puppies the Lees had raised, all ready to herd sheep on some other farmer’s land. Even though they didn’t have a farm, the puppies were still little fluffy bundles that Daisy just couldn’t resist playing with. However, he did send a few pics to Azzy, and had received some heart eye emojis in response. Who knows? Next time he went to their place, they might have a new bundle of joy bouncing around the fields.

When he saw the puppies playing tug of war, his heart sank, but he instantly relaxed when he realized they were playing with a bundle of rope and not a little doll. Arrden doublechecked the rest of their outdoor pen, and even tried to peek into their dog house, before he decided ‘no way it's in there’ and instead made his way inside.

The shelves were well stocked with a variety of foods for a variety of animals, and all kinds of toys. There were even a few birds on display inside--he paused a moment to look at the fluffy-looking pigeons, and gently pat a couple of peachicks through the gaps in their cage. Tanks, leashes, training manuals, and treats were also available--a vast array of homemade cookies and biscuits with all kinds of berries and faux icing. ‘Human made, dog approved,’ the sign above them said. He’d been dared to eat one, a few years back, and truth be told he understood why the dogs liked them. Personally? Arrden wasn’t a fan.

He perused the entire store in search of his sister’s doll, double and triple checking the toy shelves to make sure he hadn’t missed it. God forbid, someone had traded for it thinking it was one of Mx. Miller’s handmade toys and already tossed it to the hounds. He tried to put that thought out of his mind.

After making one final loop around the store, Arrden approached the desk, where Mx. Miller was working on sewing up another pet toy out of scraps of old clothes and hand spun fabric. Right, a lot of people would donate their old and worn clothes to the shop so they could find new life as a beloved toy. At least, when they didn’t donate them to a teen hoping to learn embroidery or make new patches for their jacket. In that sense, Arrden and Mx. Miller were staunch competitors in the last life of beloved fabric market, if his patch-adorned vest had anything to say.

“Hey, there! Can I help you with anything?” Mx. Miller asked as they looked up from their work.

“Hi, uhm… my sister lost her doll earlier today, and I was wondering if you saw it by any chance? It’s about this big--” Arrden cupped his hand a little over a foot above the top of the counter. “--and looks like a white and yellow daisy, with green arms and legs.”

Mx. Miller scrunched their nose--they must’ve seen all kinds of toys over the course of the day--and eventually shook their head. “I don’t remember seeing a doll like that. But if anyone brings one like that in, I’ll keep it in lost and found, alright?”

Arrden nodded quietly. “Okay! Thank you, Mx. Miller.” Arrden made his way out of the store, pausing a moment to ruffle one of the puppies’ heads a bit as it poked its head over the baby cage before he hopped back onto his skateboard and made his way off.

No luck at the market, no luck at the music tent, no luck at the pet shop… his last hopes were the library, Mrs. Kitterling’s jewelry shop, or just… out in the street somewhere, stepped upon and dirty. Or worse. Someone had seen it and taken it, and Arrden was thoroughly screwed.

He couldn’t lose hope. He’d stop by the library, cross his fingers, hope to any power there was that he found it alright.

He felt the path change under the wheels of his board as he turned onto the Aster Town Library’s walkway. It was still old cobblestone, with a few cushiony low-growing groundcovers poking between the tracks. Comfy for shoes--or those who preferred to walk barefoot, like Sasi’s family--but not so great for itty bitty skateboard wheels, so he hopped off the board and tucked it under his arm and walked the rest of the way. To either side of the cobblestone path, there were gardens--to his left, an expansive meadow of wildflowers, almost like the garden at home, and to his right was a small pond with an array of koi and all kinds of other fish, their scales glittering like tiny drops of sunlight under the water’s surface. Dotted across both landscapes were benches, for people to enjoy a drink and a book while taking in the perfumed scent of flowers, or listening to the gentle trickle of the pond’s small waterfall. He checked all the outside benches, but deep down he knew Daisy’s doll wouldn’t be out here. These sitting spots were great and all, but Daisy spent most of her time in other spaces.

Arden entered the library and placed his skateboard on the designated skateboard shelf by the door, which already had a couple of other tenants taking up slots. They were all a similar color to his, but he knew he’d be able to grab the right one--his was custom painted with a big yellow sunflower, spinning wheels and bees along the edges, and a couple of stickers in the blank spaces. He’d done everything but paint his name on the bottom of the board to mark it as his. Plus, everyone else had their boards painted--one had a bright big zinnia flower, with suns and moons both on the horizon, while another had a ferocious looking bear painted on with a wolf howling at the moon.

“Back again already?” Arrden turned to see one of the librarians, Mx. Kingsley, waving at him from the front desk. “You already returned your books, if that’s what you’re here for.”

“It’s not! Well, I do want more books, but--my sister lost her crochet doll, and I’m retracing my steps to try and find it. Did anyone turn it in?”

Mx. Kingsley shook their head, frowning a bit. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t remember any dolls being turned in today. I’ll go check the Lost and Found, why don’t you go ahead and look around while you get your books?”

“Sounds like a plan. Thank you, Mx. Kingsley!” Arrden beamed, before heading off deeper into the library.

The library had always been one of his favorite places. When he wasn’t helping his parents with the garden, or hanging out with his friends after school, you could probably find Arrden tucked away somewhere on library grounds. He knew this place like the back of his hand--if he ever applied to volunteer here, no doubt he’d be let in, but he wanted to have a little bit more freedom before leashing himself to a formal volunteer position. Nevertheless, he was here all the time, and his sister Daisy was also becoming fond of the place. As Arrden perused the shelves, selecting a few books on beekeeping and wool spinning as well as a few novels, he took a moment to enjoy the pure library vibes. Small potted herbs grew on the shelves, bundles of mint to be snacked on, while posters for new books and fliers for town events adorned walls and bulletin boards all across the space. Every book in here was well-loved, the smell of old books mingling with the herbs and making everything just… heavenly. There were plenty of bright, sunny windows--some clear, most brightly colored stained glass works of trees and flowers sprouting out of open books--all with plenty of cushioned benches and rocking chairs and bean bags sprawled out underneath them. A few of the study rooms had been borrowed, a couple of kids studying in one, while the other had a handful of adults using the chalkboard to talk about something-or-another. Even still, Arrden knew his sister’s doll wouldn’t be in any of these places.

Instead, he stepped out the side door, and directly into the warm and cozy greenhouse area. A mix of colorful panels greeted him with spots of light on the ground, casting everything into an almost magical light. There were two large tables that were perfect for studying and craft sessions, potted herbs and even a few fruit trees along the sides of the walls, but best of all--a big, comfy chair, tucked into a corner with its own shelf of books nearby. This was his favorite spot in the library--and his sister’s too. Arrden was half-tempted to just sink into the big chair, curl up with one of his books, and let the hours pass as he lost himself among the pages of a story. The library was open through the night, but he’d never been allowed to stay past eight, because apparently fourteen was still too young to be out on his own late at night.

But no, he was here for a reason. So instead of settling into the chair, he checked the cushions to make sure the doll hadn’t been lost in the depth of it, but came up with nothing but a healthy dose of lint-fingers. Daisy’s doll wasn’t sitting on any of the tables or shelves either, nor was it on the floor. This was the only room Daisy ever liked to hang out in, so the odds of it being anywhere else were… slim.

As he made his way back to the front desk, he passed a shelf of books and a title stuck out to him--something about playing guitar for beginners. Well… it wouldn’t be so bad to do a bit of reading, would it? He took the book and tucked it under his arm with the others.

“Find the books you’re looking for?” Mx. Miller asked as Arrden arrived to the desk.

“I did! Did you find my sister’s doll?”

The look on Mx. Miller’s face told him everything he needed to know, but even still they shook their head with a soft sigh. “There aren’t any dolls in the lost and found, kiddo. I hope you find it!”

Arrden sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I hope so too.” He placed his books on the counter, and Mx. Miller began scanning them out of the system.

“More books on beekeeping and spinning? I’d think you’d be one of the resident experts by now!” they said with a soft laugh.

“I just wanna make sure I know all I can! I still gotta get my parents to let me have the gear and all.”

“Oh, I remember when I was trying to start with my crafts. It took ages to convince my parents I could run a spinning wheel without hurting myself, but one day one of my friends let me try spinning with the wheel she had at her place. When I came back with a nice bundle of finished yarn I’d spun myself, and less bandages than they expected, my parents let me go get my own wheel the next day.”

Arrden hummed. “Maybe… but I dunno anyone with a wheel who’d let me borrow it.”

Mx. Miller arched an eyebrow, gesturing with their eyes towards the craft room in the back. “You know, I just dropped one of my older wheels into the tool space for borrow. How about the next time you come around, you put your skills to the test? I’ve got some hemp I’ve already combed out but I never ended up doing anything with it, I’m more than happy to let you learn spinning with it!”

“You’re for real?” Arrden beamed. “I’d love to! Oh, maybe I can come right after school Tuesday?”

“I’ll be sure to bring it in, then!” Mx. Miller slid the books across the counter back to Arrden. “You keep on reading until then, alright? I can’t help you with the bees, after all.”

“Okay! Oh, did you want anything for--I mean, I can maybe bring you some of my mom’s flowers, or--”

“Oh, no, no! We don’t have to trade for it! I just love helping young learners, you know? Now get going! You’ve still gotta find that doll!”

Arrden gasped and shoved the books into his tote. “Right! Thank you again, Mx. Miller!” at that, he rushed out of the door, grabbing his board and hopping onto it as he made his way down the path. He made his way to the last possible place the doll could be--Mrs. Kitterlings’ place.

On his way there, though, he found himself stopping, hopping off his skateboard a moment to look at a garden. It was a small pollinator garden, the likes of dozens around town--but this one was special to him. Not because of the big beautiful mural of butterflies and bees stopping to drink on a giant Asclepias syriaca on the brick wall overlooking it all--though common milkweed was one of his favorites for growing and trading. But because he remembered, ever so faintly, helping to start this place.

This garden--the East Avenue Pollinator Pod Garden--was one of the first Pollinator Pods to be planted in the town, about eight years ago now. He was a little kid then, and didn’t see the bigger picture--how this pod was the cornerstone that would help transform this town into the community he knew it as today. No, Arrden was just one of dozens of grubby little six year olds who were excited to get to play with dirt without getting into trouble for it that day. The adults had been working on clearing out the empty lot for ages by that point, transforming the place from some old tire-and-junk filled lot into safe, empty ground ready for planting. Not that Arrden was around to appreciate it when that work had started. He remembered following his mom around with a little plastic trowel, carefully digging where she instructed so she could help him gently place tiny little seedlings into the holes he made, or helping to scatter coreopsis, rudbeckia, and liatris seeds around while he played tag with Azzy and Kendall. His dad helped him try and properly pronounce the names, though there was still awhile where Asclepias were ‘Sleepies’ and rudbeckias were ‘Rudy-Becky’s’. And he remembered coming down with his dad every week during his mom’s working season to help water the plants and watch the life slowly fill into a place that had been so empty and barren for so long. He remembered coming to celebrate while his mom’s work group added a paved walkway, and a fountain, and a bench dedicated to a Mrs. Lianne Kitterling--the mayor at the time who had started the initiative to green up their spaces and their lives in the tiny town of Charlesville (a few years later, they’d rename the town Aster, and adopt the sunflower as their symbol). After this garden, so many more changes came--more solar panels and wind turbines floating high above the city, gardens spreading around every corner of the city, initiatives to clean the forest that bordered their town’s northern side and restore the prairie that used to be to its south. New people moved in, entranced by the changes taking place--like Sasi’s family, and his mom’s best friend Miss Dianne--and helping to shape the town into the colorful place it is now.

It was honestly hard to remember what things were like before, but maybe that was because he was so little when the changes started happening. In second grade, they changed the school year--only four days a week, and about four hours for each day, instead of the five days and six hours that had apparently been standard for decades before. He couldn’t imagine how he’d manage school and his friends and hobbies if he was spending five days in school, let alone six hours each day! His Dad said before he was born, the town switched to seasonal work--everyone could choose to either work from January to June, or July to December, at any job. Before that, everyone worked practically every day of the year, which Arrden could scarcely imagine now. Maybe all the changes hadn’t started with this garden after all, but in Arrden’s mind, watching the garden grow was the first time he realized things were changing and growing--just like the caterpillars who called the garden home. The city was in its cocoon, shifting and changing, and even now his mother said its wings were only just now unfurling.

“Hey, Arrden!”

Arrden was snapped out of his thoughts by the familiar voice calling his name, and turned in time to see his friend Azzy--and their friend, Flare--riding up on their own boards. Azzy pulled to a--somewhat clumsy--stop and hopped off their board to come join him. “What’s up? Looking at the old garden?”

“I don’t think it's that old, Az. But, uh, guess I got lost in thought seeing it.”

“I feel you, man.” they took off their helmet, long blonde hair cascading to past their shoulders. “I was just here last week, getting a few volunteer hours in filling the empty gaps with more seedlings. Felt like I got rocketed back to the past for a moment. Crazy how well everything grew in, I coulda sworn we accidentally trampled half those seedlings but now look at it all!”

“You trampled the seedlings. And I wouldn’t be surprised if the adults came in a few days later to replace the ones you stepped on, but who knows.”

“Azzy and I were heading to the skate park,” Flare said, stepping over. “You want in?”

“Ooh! Yeah, you should totally come hang! There’s even gonna be a band performing later tonight!” Azzy beamed, green eyes alight with excitement.

Arrden sighed. “I wish, but I still have that 8 o'clock curfew. And I lost my sister’s doll. I’ve gotta find it before my parents find out, or else I’m never getting that spinning wheel!”

“You lost Daisy’s daisy?! Aw, you’re in for it, man!”

He groaned. “I know!! If it’s not in Mrs. Kitterling’s place, I’m done for! I dunno where else it could be!”

“Fingers crossed for you, then! Oh, wait, Flare, you wanted to stop in Kitterlings’ too, right?”

Flare nodded. “My mom wants more decorations for her locs, and I might get some for when she twists my hair soon” she groaned. “I’m gonna miss the puffs, but having to wash and dry it all every week is driving me crazy!!”

“Aw, I don’t find it so bad! When it's my hair care day, I just plop on the couch with some snacks and turn on some good movies!”

“I wish it were that simple, my mom expects me to do so much to it! I might end up liking the twists better, who knows until I get them in? I think some bee charms’ll help!”

“Oh, you like bees?”

“Her dad’s the head of the beekeeper’s guild in town! He has, like, twenty hives!” Azzy beamed.

“Yeah, he’s been teaching me how to manage hives since I was ten! I have two hives of my own, too!”

“Ooh! I’ve been wanting to learn beekeeping for the longest while, but I haven’t gotten any hands-on experience yet!” Arrden said “I’ve checked out just about every book on beekeeping the library has, but my parents still don’t think I’m ready for a hive…”

“Why not join the guild, maybe apprentice for one of the beekeepers? I know my dad loves teaching hands-on!”

Arrden blinked dumbly. “I can join the guild if I don’t have any hives yet?”

“Dude! Yeah?! How are you supposed to take care of a real hive if you’ve never been near one before! Look--” Flare dug her phone out of her overall pocket. “We’ve gotta trade numbers, I’ll get you hooked up with Dad and maybe you can come over when he’s teaching Sasi Friday after school.”

“Sasi’s learning beekeeping?!”

“Yeah, I dunno, she didn’t catch me as the type but she told me last week that someone sparked her interest in it.”

“Oooh, wonder who that could’ve been?” Azzy laughed, nudging Arrden in the ribs. Arrden briefly remembered his last interaction with Sasi when Azzy was nearby, how they’d nudged him into talking about his interests and he wound up infodumping about bees all lunch period instead of eating. He’d thought he’d totally embarrassed himself! Was she actually interested in it now?

“Uh! Well! L-Let’s trade numbers, then!” Arrden handed Flare his phone, and Flare handed hers to him. They plugged in each others numbers and sent introductory texts and then handed back the phones. “So, you guys are going into Kitterlings?”

“Yeah, c’mon!”

Mrs. Kitterlings’ shop wasn’t very far--in fact, it was just a door away from the wall the pollinator pod was up against. The awning over the door and windows were a bit faded with age, the gold paint spelling out Kitterlings’ Jewelry chipping off the brick surface they were painted onto. Well loved, his mother had always said, the building’s well loved.

Well loved it was, indeed, with a lot of the ladies in town. Mrs. Kitterling was one of the only jewelers in town, but she made lots of items--asides from necklaces and bracelets, she also made earrings, rings, loc decorations, hearing aid jewelry, and more. This was on top of her supposedly growing some of the best roses and daffodils for barter. Or maybe the ladies liked her so much because she used to be the mayor, and had relinquished her position to instead let decisions be made by a panel of citizens a few years back? After she’d retired from politics, she’d opened the shop and almost immediately was the talk of the town all over again.

Either way, Arrden wasn’t much of a jewelry guy--he found it got in the way most of the time. But he had been here earlier to get a new bracelet for his sister, with a little daisy charm made out of recycled metal. So the odds of him having lost the doll here were fairly high.

Flare almost immediately got distracted by the loc decorations on display, little burlap baggies full of gold and silver ones on the shelf underneath, but Azzy accompanied him to the front desk. Mrs. Kitterling was talking to another woman--Mrs. Deere, one of the kindergarten teachers--about placing an order for a custom pair of earrings. Today, Mrs. Kitterling was wearing hearing aid jewelry that made her ears look like butterfly wings, adorned with a mix of wire and recycled glass gems.

Once Mrs. Deere had finished placing her order, Mrs. Kitterling turned to the two teens with a smile. “Ah, young Arrden and Azzy! A pleasure seeing you here again, how can I help you?”

“Hi, Mrs. Kitterling. I, uh, lost my sister’s doll, did you see it by any chance?” Arrden asked.

“It’s, uhm, real important!” Azzy added, trying to back him up. Arrden appreciated the effort, Az.

Mrs. Kitterling hummed, adjusting her glasses. “Why, what does the doll look like?”

“It’s got a green body, and a big daisy flower for the head! Right, Arrden?” Azzy turned to Arrden, who nodded quietly.

“About… eight inches big, I think. Something like that.” Azzy procured their sketchbook from their bag, and Arrden nodded again. “About that big!”

“I think I did see a doll like that! I bet it's in the lost and found box, give me just one moment!” Mrs. Kitterling smiled before wheeling herself to the back room.

Arrden beamed, bouncing up and down a bit with Azzy. “She has it, she has it! Maybe I can get that spinning wheel after all!”

“Then we can team up and start making a buncha yarn! And you can learn how to spin hemp and stuff too!” they said.

“Your sister’s gonna be pretty damn happy too, right?” Flare said.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! That doll’s practically her best friend, she’s gonna be stoked!” Arrden gasped suddenly. “Shit! I still have to stop by the Ferns’ place to get eggs for my dad! And I promised Daisy I’d get her some Junebugs!”

“You’re going to Junebugs?!” Azzy gaped. “Hope you brought something good to trade!”

“...I’ve got some flowers?” Arrden opened his tote a bit to show the collection of cut flowers he’d brought. They were just a smidge wilted from spending the past hour or so traveling around town, but still fine to trade, right?

“That might be enough for some of a batch, but I dunno…” Azzy reached over and pat him on the back. “Fingers crossed for you, man.”

“Oh, god, you don’t think it’ll be enough? I dunno what I’m gonna do…”

Azzy hummed, tapping their chin. “I think they like raising insects. Any of those milkweeds got eggs on em?”

“Probably a couple, the monarchs have been going crazy in the garden lately.” Arden took out the milkweed stems and peered closely at the leaves. “I swear, it’d be harder to keep them away than to attract them… oh! When’d this guy get here?”

“Ooh, yeah, I see a caterpillar too! Right there!” Azzy said, pointing to a completely different leaf from the one Arrden was looking at. They then spotted the rather large caterpillar Arrden was staring at. “Oh! Guess you’ve got two! You might be good, then!”

“Oh, thank god.”

It was about then that Mrs. Kitterling wheeled her way back out to the front desk, smiling brightly as she set a little doll on the counter. “Little Daisy was still wearing a little necklace, too! Did you still want that, little Arrden?”

Arden huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “No thank you, ma’am. Thanks for keeping Little Daisy safe!” It all made sense now--Daisy would always try and let her doll partake in activities, so she was probably taking necklaces off the shelves and putting them on the doll while Arrden handled the trade for the bracelet. Then she’d gotten so excited about putting her new bracelet on, she’d probably left the doll up on the counter. Then they had to hurry home to make it back before Dad finished with book club, and they’d forgotten it entirely… well, at least he had it back now! Just a few more errands, and he could bring it back before Daisy got impatient and told on him.

“Of course, of course! Was there anything else you needed?”

“Uhm,” Flare cut in. “I was actually wanting to trade for these bee decorations, if they’re available?”

“Oh, of course, Flare, dear! What did you have in mind?”

“I’ve gotta run a few more errands, but I’ll see you guys in school?” Arrden said, already backing up towards the door.

“Oh, definitely! See you!” Azzy beamed, waving goodbye as Arrden made his way out.

Truth be told, Arden was a bit fidgety the entire ride to the Ferns’ place. He was so relieved to have found the doll, but so anxious to let it out of his sight again, so he held it tight in his grip most of the way there. At least, until he decided he didn’t want to risk dropping it, so he’d put it in his tote bag to keep it safe. But with all the flowers and jars and books in his bag at this point, the doll kinda half-hung out of it, and so he’d get paranoid that it’d fall out so then he’d clutch it tight in his hand again… what was usually a maybe twenty minute ride from Mrs. Kitterlings to the Ferns’ stretched to about thirty just because of his indecisiveness.

It probably didn’t help that the roads up to the Ferns’ weren’t all too great. They lived out near the fields--not too far from Azzy, actually--but it was a route better suited for bikes and wagons. Dirt roads weren’t too good for skateboards, so Arrden ended up on foot a good chunk of the way. Not that he actually had to travel too too far up the road, as the Ferns kept a farm stand at the end of the long driveway to their house, stocked with cartons of the day’s fresh eggs from their amassment of chickens, quail, and pigeons. Early in the mornings, you could even find a few glass bottles of milk down in the cooler, or a few blocks of cheese and butter, or baskets of whatever fruit was in season up on the table. All you had to do was leave something of worthy trade in the exchange basket, like flower cuttings, or seeds, or handmade jewelry, or… anything, honestly. His dad said the Ferns practically begged people to take their eggs from them in the past, and yet every year they were more than eager to get more chicks to add to their flocks.

Arrden placed a jar of calendulas and rudbeckias on the trade counter, gently placing a carton of chicken eggs and a glass jar from the ‘givebacks’ counter into his bag. At least it gave him a safe place to sit Little Daisy--he imagined the doll felt quite comfortable, sitting nestled in a glass jar all to herself. After making sure everything was safe and secure, he made his way back down the dirt road, hopping onto his skateboard the instant it became a viable option.

The ride to Junebugs took him to basically the opposite side of town from his house back in the suburbs, not that it meant all too much to him. He liked the solitude he got from riding around on his skateboard, humming his favorite songs and feeling the wind in his hair. Still, the street lights might be coming on by the time he actually made it back. He’d worry about that later, for now he had to hurry to Junebugs before they closed shop for the day. Fortunately, he made it just in time--the sign still read ‘Open!’ on their front door. He enjoyed the perfumed scent of the serviceberry and apple flowers as he rode under their reaching branches on the pathway, the colorful pink blooms of native rhododendrons growing in bright surges around their trunks. Junebugs’ front garden was always a wonderful sight to see, though part of it was because being there almost always meant leaving with something sweet.

The front window counter was still open, so Arrden stepped off his board and made his way over to ding the little bell on the counter. “Just one moment!” a voice called out from further inside. Of course, Arrden didn’t mind waiting--waiting just meant getting to enjoy the scent of sugar syrups and honeys and glazes, the colorful sight of candied fruits and flowers alongside baked cookies and other pastries settled on drying racks. He could feel his mouth starting to water at just the thought of taking a bite of some. Unfortunately, he had to save all the candy for his sister, otherwise she’d definitely pitch a fit.

It didn’t take too long at all for Mx. Junebug to return to the counter. Their fingers were still stained with various colors from dealing with so many plants and candies, but they brushed it off on their apron and smiled. “Hey! I like your patches, kid. How can I help you?”

“Oh, uhm, thank you!! Uhm, do you have any candied strawberries? Or violets, maybe?”

Mx. Junebug leaned on the counter. “I have both right now, just finished a batch earlier today. What’re you wanting to trade for ‘em?”

“I! Have! Uhm…” Arrden set his tote bag on the counter and gently reached in to pull out the jar of flowers that remained--a handful of zinnias and milkweed, which fortunately the two caterpillars were still munching away on. “My mom grows lots of flowers! And these ones had some caterpillars on them! I heard you like them?”

Mx. Junebug’s eyes grew wide, and Arrden knew he had a good trade before they even said anything. “I will absolutely take those little buggies off your hand! Give me a moment to get you all set up, alright?” they said, taking the jar in both hands before disappearing further into the house. Arrden leaned against the wall by the counter, lazily watching bees fly around the serviceberry blossoms as he hummed under his breath. Ultimately, it didn’t take all too long for Junebug to come back with a small bioplastic baggie of candied strawberries and violets, tied off with a little bow of teal rope. “Here you go, kid! Hope you enjoy ‘em!”

“Thanks so much, Mx. Junebug!” Arrden grinned, waving before he hopped back onto his skateboard and made his way back onto the main streets.

The ride back home was fairly uneventful. For Arrden, at least. Things in Aster slowed down, sure, but they never came to a full halt. Even now, strings of fairy lights were beginning to turn on amongst the market’s awnings, powered by solar panels that had been collecting energy all afternoon. Though most stalls stayed closed through the night, the street instead became something akin to a giant party hall for those who preferred to be active through the night. Older teens and young adults danced to a collection of music--on one end of the street, there was a punk band performing, while on the other someone had brought a speaker and was playing party tunes from their phone. Arrden was half-tempted to join them--Kendall had been to a few night parties and said they were loads of fun--but if he didn’t get home soon, his parents would be upset. So he had to muster all his self-control to stay on his board and skate past the festivities, skate past the cozy-looking library that was all aglow as late night readers nestled into beanbags and chairs. Once he made it past the nightly temptations, though, it was just softly glowing street lamps until he made it back home.

As he stepped back inside, he was greeted with the sight of his mother resting on the couch with Daisy in her lap, watching TV. His dad was in the kitchen playing rock songs on the radio as he sang and cooked.

“Hey, Ma! Hey, Dad! I’m home!” Arrden beamed.

“Glad you’re home safe! Took you a bit longer than I was expecting, was everything alright?” his dad said, peeking out from the kitchen doorway.

“A bit, but I got sidetracked talking to some friends. Sorry I’m late, though.” he said, making his way into the kitchen to set his bag down before rushing back out to hug his mother. “Hey, Ma! How was work?”

“Oh, it was good! I was just telling Daisy about the new window we’re working on for the community center’s new makerspace! It’s going to be big and round, with a lovely big daisy!”

“Daisy! Like me!” Daisy beamed.

Arrden grinned and ruffled his sister’s hair. “Daisy, like you! I bet it’s gonna look great, Mama, you can build anything!”

His mother leaned over to give him a kiss on the forehead. “You’re a sweetheart, Arrden, you know that? So, what’re you gonna do tonight?”

“Uh, I checked out some books from the library that I wanna read! I left them in the kitchen, actually, let me go get them!” Arrden hopped up from the couch to duck back into the kitchen to scoop up his books--and Daisy’s doll, hopefully before his dad spotted it.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t so lucky--the doll was sitting in the jar, out on the counter beside his stack of books. He froze at the sight of it, and his father turned from the cooking to send him a look. Uh oh.

“Arrden? Let’s step outside a moment.” his father said, sliding a lid onto the simmering pasta sauce. “We need to chat.”

Uh oh.

Arrden nodded wordlessly, following his father out the back door into the backyard. There were a handful of fireflies flitting about as they made their way to the bench swing under the treehouse. His father leaned back in the seat, while Arrden sat hunched into his own shoulders. The silence was agonizing, as they sat out there, Arrden’s poor mind going wild with possibilities. He’d always tried to avoid getting into trouble with his parents, and he had a significant feeling that he was in trouble with his parents right now. Oh, he was never gonna get that spinning wheel at this rate, let alone a beehive!

“You went out to get Little Daisy back, didn’t you?” his father finally said, but he hadn’t looked away from the fireflies yet.

Arrden nodded quietly, then realized where his father’s eyes lay. “I-I did. I… wanted to bring it back before you realized it was gone, because…”

“Because you took Daisy out, even though we’d said she had to stay inside?”

“Y-Yes… I’m sorry, Dad, but she was being so sad, and I just wanted to cheer her up! We were safe the whole time, her ear didn’t even hurt at all, and--but… I shouldn’t have taken her, I’m sorry…”

His dad hummed. “I appreciate you looking out for your little sister, Arrden.” he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Lord knows my older brothers wouldn't've done the same for me at your age. And I understand why you wanted to find the doll before it became a larger issue. I’m not mad at you for trying to find the doll.” Arrden let out a sigh of relief, but paused as his father turned to him and held up a finger. “But. I’m a bit upset that you took Daisy out into the town without permission. What would you have done if she’d gotten hurt, or if her ear infection got worse while you were out?”

“...you’re right, Dad… does this mean I can’t have a spinning wheel…?”

His dad’s eyebrows arched, and his locs shifted as he tilted his head. “...not necessarily. I think you were irresponsible to do what I told you not to, but I can also see you were being responsible by looking for Little Daisy and owning up to your mistake. I do wish you would be more honest with me, though--I would have helped you look if you’d told me. And you wouldn’t’ve had to get bribe candy for your sister, either.”

“Did she tell on me?” Arrden pouted. “She promised not to if I got her candy.”

“I noticed she didn’t have the doll, and she was honest with me when I asked.” another hum from his dad. “...I’ll talk with your mother about letting you have a spinning wheel, but if you break our trust again, we’ll be pushing it back by at least a month. Alright?”

Arrden nodded. “Alright. Thanks, Dad.”

His dad laughed, ruffling his hair a moment as he stood to his feet. “You’re a good kid, Arrden. There’s worse things you could be doing than taking your sister out to play. Now, come on in when you’re ready, alright?”

“Alright, Dad.” at that, his Dad made his way inside, closing the door behind him, leaving Arrden sitting alone on the bench outside. He sighed, looking up at where the stars were beginning to peek their way through the darkening sky. He stayed there awhile, watching the fireflies and moths dance around the meadow, listening to the rustling of the wind in the tree’s branches, the gentle creak as he swung slowly back and forth on the swing.

He was a pretty good kid, huh?

-------------------------------------------

Special thanks to @1wren and @105ttt for beta-reading this fic for me!

#solarpunk #solarpunk aesthetic week #writing #short story #out of queue #ani rambles #ani writes #arrden #ani???? finally posting solarpunk writing??? YOU FUCKIN BET #I hope you guys like it!!!!#my brain is buzzing idk what to even Say at this point but uhhhhh i know its long imma go now BYE

92 notes · View notes