#i think my brain stopped working when i had to go through all 47 docs in my tldc folder to put this together. which was several hours ago

[ragnars-tooth]

HII HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

As promised, here are seven wips from the last uhh 3 years I've been writing dragons book fanfic on my silly gay computer. They're a mix of unfinished/abandoned/in-progress-but-not-that-important-rn

There are summaries in square brackets between each separate fic with a quick description of what the fuck is going on, when it's going on (e.g. book number, where appropriate) and main players/relationships. (plus a fun little word-count and look at the last time i touched the file… yeah, fun… whoops). These have been bolded to hopefully make them a bit easier to see while scrolling at high velocity.

All under the cut because it's too long for me to do that to your dashboards 🫡

[Lucy & David, chatting about author photos post-book 4. 475 words. (Oct 2022 💀)]

“Hang on…”

David paused, finger still wedging the spine of the book open. He was staring at the flap of the dust cover, frowning slightly to himself.

“Did you use my student ID for my author photo?”

Lucy leant in closer. College David was a little younger than David Rain – same dark blue eyes, but with a rounder face and hair that hadn’t been bleached white by his time elsewhere. The dusty brown still crept in at the ends of his hair, where it was now stuck to the inside of his collar.

Lucy couldn’t remember how many times she had taken down her copy of The Nutbeast and stared at the little card. It was odd to compare the man who’d lived only in her head for so many years to the one sitting on the edge of her bed.

He looked tired now. In-her-head-David had never been tired.

“It was the only one mum had.” She said.

It was the truth; Liz had run through his entire film collection and hadn’t found a single photo of David’s face. He’d been more of a landscape photographer – lots of buses and bridges that hadn’t consoled her as a child. Well, a younger child.

David cocked his head to one side, looking decidedly distraught. “But it’s awful – that’s not an excuse!”

She glanced back down, as though the image might have twisted into something else in the time she’d released her focus from it.

Nope. Still David, if a little pixelly.

“It looks fine.”

His hair was staticky and spidering out in a mess of flyaways, and David had a slight manic glint to his eyes, grinning in an angular, uncomfortable way. There might have been a stain on his shirt – it was hard to tell.

“It does not.”

Lucy cocked an eyebrow. “And where did you want us to get another? Your return address isn’t even real.”

He flailed the book wildly, “I don’t even have parents! That makes it double your fault for not having a photo of me.” The cover was still propped open an inch or so, the paper caught on his ring. “There has got to be a better one in this house.”

“Can’t fix your face, David. They’re all going to look like that.”

“This is inhumane!” he sputtered.

Despite it all, Lucy found herself smiling.

“We used it at your… not-funeral too.”

“I’m sorry.” David scoffed, eyes very wide. “You used my student identification photo at my funeral?”

“And where were we meant to get another one? You were gone remember? Can’t exactly call ghostbusters and ask them to snap a photo of you.”

David frowned, nose wrinkling at the bridge.

“I don’t think they do that – they bust the ghosts, remember?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “You’re a very annoying ghost. Maybe I should give them a ring regardless.”

-----

[Lucy & David, the audacity that some people have to move on and remodel the kitchen while you’re gone, really. 535 words. (March 2023)]

Irrevocably and stupidly, the only words he can get out of his mouth are:

“You moved the fridge.”

It’s not incorrect – it used to push up against the backdoor, and no amount of goodwill could stop you from nearly decapitating Bonny when he pattered through the cat-flap on short notice.

Now, it’s on the opposite wall – plastered in the same old stickers and fridge magnets reminiscent of days gone by. It’s the same fridge where he used to drink straight from the milk carton and look out over the rockery and crooked garden fence, but it doesn’t face the window anymore. David would have to turn fully around, which rather defeats the purpose.

It’s nothing intelligent, nothing profound – so much, so fucking much, has happened in five years and the only thing he can think about is the fridge, Lucy filling her water in the moonlight, barely tall enough to reach the faucet, and the rattling of the entire house in the winter months, post it notes and postcards and crayon drawings of a clan of squirrels.

There are new drawings now – Alexa’s, he thinks vaguely – but it’s not the same. She holds her markers much tighter.

It shouldn’t be a shock. It’s been so, so long since he was last here, but in the same breath it’s as though David had only closed his eyes for a second to rest, and the house has grown and shifted around him.

He knows that this is how things work, he hadn’t expected or wanted them to dig in their heels and sink into the snow with him. It’s a good thing, he tells himself, that things have changed, but he chokes on the inhale anyway.

He’s been left behind.

Lucy leans into the counter, dragging the cuff of her jumper between her thumb and forefinger. She bites the inside of her cheek the same way she did five years ago, but that’s wrong too.

It’s something in her eyes, something heavy and dark that’s never going away – she’s tired, much more tired than a child has any right being, and it seizes something in his chest.

He did this.

She sighs, moving to play with the collar of the jumper instead.

“Bonny likes to be big now and household fridges aren’t really made to withstand the force of a hundred-pound tiger… it got old real quick.”

David wants to say something, to lapse back into the way things used to be, but his mouth betrays him. He nods instead, and Lucy keeps tugging at the green fabric at her neck. It’s his old geography society jumper, he notices absently. It looks older than he feels, silver lettering faded black and brown, eroded away entirely in places. He hadn’t been to many of the meetings, not after truly being inducted into the Pennykettle’s nonsense, but the dusty smell of the common room and their pilfered coffee machine fills his nose.

It makes him want to gag. Where exactly are those members now? The idea of what will become of them if he fails has the prickle of ice rising just under his skin.

How can things be so much the same and so different all at once?

-----

[Henry & David: excerpt from the wider ‘wouldn’t you be mad as hell if you were a normal guy and found out your birth dad is your landlady’s new boyfriend?’ au, post family dinner explosion/revelation. 703 words. (September 2023)]

“Exiled from my own house.” He muttered darkly.

Henry arched a massive eyebrow. “You don’t pay the rent, boy.”

“I do – that is literally the one thing I do.”

“That’s rough, man.” Tam mumbled, hands weighed down by the tall coffee mug he had pilfered. It tipped dangerously as he raised it to his mouth, threatening to douse them all in yet more sludge. Henry frowned and steadied it with one hand. Tam blinked slowly and reset his angle.

“There’re camping beds under the stairs. You can set yourself up in the living room.” Henry narrowed his eyes at the two of them, “You will not be rumpling my upholstery by sleeping on my sofa.”

Tam hummed, setting his mug down owlishly before slogging out of the kitchen. He looked much more jelly than human, and David had half a mind to go and help him before he gave up on assembling the bed and curled up in a heap on the floor. He wasn’t sure if that had been on Henry Bacon’s extensive list of house rules or not.

“Did you know for long?” Henry asked quietly.

The tone took David off guard, breaking him out of his considerations of how comfortable Henry’s plush carpet was and how likely it was Tam was going to get a good night’s sleep in the inevitability that he collapsed from exhaustion.

“Know what?”

“Don’t be stupid boy.” Henry huffed, his eyes softening more than David had ever seen. It was an odd expression for the hard lines of his face. “How long did you know Arthur was your father?”

He laughed.

Turning his wrist to check the face of his watch he answered,

“Oh, about seven hours.”

“Mm, so ruining dinner was a crime of passion then.”

“Or you could say Arthur ruined dinner twenty-three years ago. Ultra-pre-meditated.”

Henry sighed.

“Don’t start writing crime novels, boy. You’re dreadful.” “It must have been a shock to the system then, you’re not one to get angry.”

David shrugged. It sounded almost like a compliment. Two years ago he would have told you with full certainty that dragons were a fantasy. Now they warmed his tea in the mornings. A lot of things had changed in his life since then.

He shifted his mug between his hands and took another sip. The dregs were starting to cool.

“It would have been better if it had been literally anyone else. Arthur’s been so… kind to me since we met and all this… it’s just-” his nose scrunched, “highly contradictory to everything I thought I knew.”

David’s family had come up in conversation before – once Henry Bacon had hold of a thread he yanked and yanked until it came loose, no matter how many loose teeth he took with it. Perhaps that was why he and Tam got along so well.

It was no secret how David felt about the concept of his father. Henry Bacon had shared enough choice words about the man himself that David had to wonder what calculations were running in the back of his mind. Was he unravelling all of his interactions with Arthur, sliding the threads under a microscope? Was he a good man? Honourable?

David didn’t have the answers to that himself.

He shook his head to clear it.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s barely a father – he wasn’t there to raise me and he certainly wasn’t there when I needed him.” He rolled his mug around to observe the escaped leaves. “I think you did a better job at that.” 

“Arthur’s… a complicated man. I’m sure you two will be able to have a civil conversation once this is all said and done.”

When exactly does this get to be done? He wasn’t sure anyone could tell him that. Not for all Arthur’s understanding of the universe and all its components therein was there an equation he could use to fix this. Replace x and y and find how he had missed this. To be so impossibly close and so far away at the same time. No doubt, he would have invented time travel before he would have noticed what sat right in front of him.   

David hummed into his empty mug.

“Sure.”

-----

[Tam/David, General Pennykettle Clan. David is weird after being resurrected, and everyone has questions about Co:pern:ica. There is another family dinner because those are all I write apparently. Tam and David go for a smoke break. 3067 words. (November 2022)]

“’Not like it can kill me anyway.” He says. “I didn’t eat for four years, it’s not like a bit of smoke will do me in now.”

The silence is suddenly oppressive, and when David looks up the entire damn table is staring at him, slack-jawed. He has missed something.

He quirks an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Four years?” Liz is still holding the plate of roasters, stuck in the motion of sliding more onto her plate with the flat of her knife. There is something akin to real horror in her eyes. 

“I was dead for one, yes.”

She extends the plate to him jerkily. “Then you’d better make up for it now.”

Ah! Yes, the human concept of starvation, he’d forgotten that one. Generally pretty upsetting to the average person – makes sense.

David pushes the plate back her way, gentle not to disturb the roasters as he laughs. They’re the herb covered kind and it would be a dire shame to spill them all over the floor, no matter if Bonny might thank him.

“No, really. I’m fine. Had other things to worry about – slipped my mind if anything.”

Other things, yes… let’s say that, shall we?

Arthur has inclined his head towards him in the way that means he’s grabbed the string of an intriguing theory and intends to tug it until the entire tapestry unravels. He gets that look about him a lot.

David shivers despite the British cold always being abrasively hot to him these days. What an odd image to set him on edge.

“Would you call that typical for the Fain? Not needing to sustain a physical body?”

He rolls the unlit cigarette around between his fingers.

“No,” David hums, “I don’t think it’s a Fain thing, I think it’s a dead thing.”

“But you’re not dead now, are you?” There’s a tension in Zanna’s words that he wasn’t expecting. If he were sentimental he might have called it concern. But he’s not sentimental, he’s Fain – he doesn’t do that anymore.

David shrugs. “Not entirely sure if I count as alive either.”

“You do.” She’s quick – always has been to cut off the things she doesn’t want to hear. Zanna has made it clear enough that she doesn’t like the thought that David Rain was never real, that he was some construct given life. He can’t blame her.  

“Can we not talk about how you’re dead or not dead.” Lucy snaps, her plate clinking a dangerous tone when she slams down her fork. David flinches at the sound. Tam has his eyes on him again. “You’re finally back and I don’t want to think about -” she glares at the fireplace, “-all that. I just want to have dinner again.”

He feels a twinge of the heaviness and lightness of space winking back at him. The same sensation of holding Bergstrom’s pocket watch in his open hand and staring into its face, and all that that entails.

Good, it seems to say to him, you’re not here to be liked.

“’Course. Sorry, Luce.”

She shakes her head, and seems to think better of whatever was on the tip of her tongue. She picks up her fork again and returns her gaze to the plate,

“Whatever, answer Arthur’s physics questions.”

David slides his Yorkshire pudding onto her plate in some semblance of a peace offering. Lucy douses it in gravy and almost smiles at him.

“It’s probably an… Illumination thing, rather than a Fain thing.” He tucks the cigarette into the pocket of his shirt. With the way Arthur has crossed his hands on the tablecloth there is no way David is going to get a smoke break any time soon. “I was in limbo for a long time, but I remember that my parents used to cook.”

Those eyes are all on him again. Even Bonny has plodded back into the living room to stare at him, though he’s probably waiting for one of their entourage to drop a piece of chicken.

The cat glides under the table, and from the sound of pattering paws David can hear him settle in Arthur’s lap. The professor removes a hand from the table to rest in Bonny’s fur. Then his eyes move from the patch of wall over David’s shoulders to his face.

Right. Being stared at. That’s what’s happening.

“Not my parents,” he corrects. “One of me’s parents.” That’s worse.

“The me that does not have this specific earth body, but existed in Co:pern:ica.” Better? “The me that had parents.” Nope, that’s even worse.

No one looks like they know what to say. He can’t blame them. This whole family thing is a mess.

“We do eat.” He settles on, then shoves a piece of parsnip in his mouth for good measure. He is safe for the next five to twelve seconds, if he really pushes it.

They’re curious, but no one wants to touch that mess, so Arthur breaks the quiet of everyone glancing off awkwardly at various décor, grimacing slightly. “You had mentioned that the Fain don’t do many menial tasks unless they’re unavoidable – if you remember it that way, then you’re likely right.”

“Well, I don’t remember it, but based on Co:pern:ica David, I’d say so.“ Good Godith, what was in that fucking wine? “His parents cooked, so they had to eat. Probably...”

The looks return, so he moves on quickly, waving his hands vaguely.

“Multiple timelines,” he says, “There’s several me’s, doing about the same thing now. Several you’s too. I’m just aware of them because of the d- Illumimation thing.”

Why did you say that?? Now they’re going to want to know-

“There’s multiple of us?” Tam looks at him over the rim of his glasses, half-smirking, “What, am I still a journalist?”

“Uhhh…” Well. “Of a sort. It’s hazy, but I think you worked for the media.”

Don’t say he got arrested, don’t say he got arrested, don’t say he got arrested for treason and left for dead, don’t say he used to look at you with admiration in his eyes, and that stupid overgrown haircut, don’t say you were jealous of the way he looked at Rosa, for God’s sake David you can keep your thoughts to yourself you stupid bastard.

“You guys have a media?”

Oh great, you’ve just made him more interested. Good job, jackass!

David tries to make a non-comital sound in the back of his throat. It comes out strangled. Zanna frowns at him as she sips her wine.

“Very… State-operated, if you get my drift.”

Tam, ever the journalist, has just opened his mouth to probe for more answers when Liz cuts him off. She has piled up the empty plates in her quadrant of the table. David hopes it isn’t obvious that he’s floundering, but from the fact that she’s diffusing the situation he has to accept that it probably is.

“Well, don’t leave us hanging – who were the rest of us,” she laughs, “who was I?”

You used to read me to sleep. You painted the walls of my bedroom green when I said the grey made me sad. You were the only person we knew who made things with her hands instead of Imagineering them. You went to the Dead Lands and made life. You were my –

 “You were a potter.”

Tam rolls his eyes,

“God, are we all boring?”

It makes him oddly defensive for some reason.

“Zanna worked at the librarium.”

You know the reason. You knew all of these people in a way they can never know. You’ve loved them every universe you’ve been alive in. You always will. They cannot know that. It would be too hard. It would make you cry, and the Fain don’t cry.

“Librarium?” Arthur asks, Bonny’s round face pouting over the edge of his plate, eyes focused on the sliver of ham across a moat of gravy. It’s safe for now, it’ll take at least another ten minutes for Bonnington to figure out that he can step up onto the table.

“It’s… basically a library, but the books are alive and it’s run by Henry Bacon.”

“Mr Bacon?” Lucy looks frankly appalled at the idea.

“A weird Fain Mr Bacon, yes. I think I – I think the other me was living there.”

“Like when Gwiliana kicked you out.”

David snorts. “Yeah, like the week from hell.”

He shakes his head, re-adjusts course, then looks back to Arthur. “We haven’t had physical books in over a hundred years – the librarium was where they all went, Henry-” he nods to the woman on his right, “-and Zanna kept them in order.”

He sips from his glass.

Probably a bad idea, you’ve been running your mouth all night. Shut up.

“They were bloody tricky bastards.”

Zanna looks at him oddly. Her brows are pinched but she doesn’t seem overtly disgusted with the idea. It’s possibly the first time she has been at least neutral on the discussion of the Fain.

On the discussion of who you are.

“You couldn’t have lived at a library. You would’ve made a pig’s ear of it.” Her voice is not cold – it’s a joke, probably. She thinks it’s funny.

“Oh, I did.” He pauses, tries to recall the details. The librarium is hazy for some reason.

He recalls Rosa and her kicker boots, lying in the grass by the well, firebirds overhead. He remembers being eleven, reading about pianists… then being… twenty? He decides not to poke around too hard in that gap, though its vastness is mildly concerning.

He worries that there is something there that is worse than not knowing.

You felt that way before. When you were first living at the Crescent. You had huge gaps in your childhood. Scattered dates and one or two fixed points. You don’t even know if that was real. You don’t know if you want it to be.

David swallows thickly, “I don’t… actually remember what happened while I was there – while he was there. But he must have been there about ten years – that’s what the memories tell me anyway.”

You wanted me to leave the librarium so I would stop distracting you. You made me daisy chain bracelets and we used to curl up in the hammocks together to read. There wasn’t enough room but I would race you to see who could finish their volume faster. You almost always won, but I paid more attention to the details. I never did understand what was meant to be more or less important – it was in the book, so it had to be relevant, right? Mr Henry said we complimented each other nicely.

David is vaguely aware that he has slipped into a long silence. He watches Tam glance across the table at Zanna. His fingers itch for that cigarette.

“There are two of us left wise guy.” Lucy says, finally pushing her plate away. She hasn’t touched the sprouts. She never does. “What did Arthur and I get up to?”

He pretends to think for a moment, leaning back in his seat. His plate still has a mound of mash and peas. It’ll get cold and start going soggy soon. He hasn’t felt hungry since he died. He’ll still eat it.

David rolls his shoulders.

“Arthur was a physicist – it goes over my head but I think it was something to do with time.” Arthur tips his head not unlike a dog. He would love more details but David isn’t lying when he says he doesn’t get it.

You were my dad. You worked a lot. You did a good enough job when I did see you.

“I think… you had a cool name. It’s on the tip of my tongue”

Lucy snorts. “Boring. Just me left!” She arches a curious eyebrow – the one with the carefully placed slit. “And I better be more interesting.”

This is vague too. She’s young – no, really young – and then she’s… less young? But still a little kid. There’s the same chasm in his memory.

How can I know she’s my sister and have no idea when she was born? How do I have no clue what happened after I left – is it just too close? Do I need to write it down?

At the thought of writing a familiar green snout noses its way into his head. Zookie sits on his desk, looking up at him expectantly. The little dragon taps his pencil on the edge of his pad in a way that betrays some irritation. I can’t believe you’re making me fish through your memories, he’s saying.

Nonetheless, Gadzooks scribbles down his answer, then flips the wire-bound book so David can decipher it.

Angel.

It makes his mouth go dry. What the hell did Lucy have to do with an angel, and why does it make him so uneasy? Zookie shrugs and, as he dissipates like smoke, David takes a long drink.

When he finally has enough sense about him not to melt into the carpet or storm off into the night and never return, he smiles at Lucy.

“You were the most boring child I’d ever met in my life. You liked maths.”

“I still like maths!” Lucy snaps, rolling her eyes. “I’m an engineering student!”

David shrugs, “You literally can’t get more boring, Luce.”

She lobs a pea at him and Liz starts gesturing at the two of them with her ladle. There’s the usual lecture about acting like adults, and how Lucy really should know better by now, but David isn’t listening. His eyes keep drifting to the window, out into the garden. He feels odd, though he can’t place it.

He shakes it off – talking about the Fain, delving into the memories of people who are him but not quite always has him disoriented afterwards – that’s all.

And whatever Gadzooks is on about will either happen or it won’t. He can dwell on it later. For right now, Tam is staring at him over the head of his beer – half empty. That seems a little more pressing than Zookie’s one-word puzzles.

-

“I’m gonna go take that smoke.” David says, already out of his seat by the time Zanna can send him a wayward glance. She still seems uneasy – she sees something in his face that she doesn’t like, her brows furrow further and she returns to her wine.

Liz sighs, but makes no move to stop him. “Just don’t throw the butt in the bushes,” she says, “I don’t want you setting all of Scrubbley on fire.”

“Will do.”

He sends her a mock salute, then dips around the door into the hallway.

Tam is three feet behind him when his hand is on the front door. “Figured you might need a lighter.”

David looks back to him before pushing the door open. “You are a shock Mr Farrell! A poet and a smoker – Liz will never approve.”

He gets a wry smile in response. “You started it – you’re the favourite ‘round here anyway. We can call you a bad influence on me.” He pats his jacket pocket – it’s the one with the tartan print lining that comes through at the hood and the cuffs. “Do you need that light or not?”

David pushes the door the rest of the way open, then stops it open with his weight.

“I think between us we should be able to manage.”

They sit on the brick wall that lines the entire front side of the Crescent. It’s perhaps a little too low even for David, but it beats standing around in the cold air, shifting your weight from foot to foot until the cigarette is biting your fingers.

Tam extracts a beaten-up silver lighter from his pocket, then fiddles with the latch for a moment. The cigarette resting on his lip wobbles as he swears, failing the ignition several times.

“No juice?”

He sighs.

“Not even a spark.”

David shrugs, “’s alright, I do have a back-up for when handsome journalists don’t have a lighter.”

He leans closer into Tam’s space, cupping his hands in a small bowl.

He had done this before – maybe not in this life, but the echoes of the action were strong enough that he could feel the order of operations like a phantom pain.

He felt vaguely that he was cupping his hands more to protect it from the wind than as a necessary motion. It would appear when he closed his eyes and thought it – dreamt it.

He conjured up the image of a small candle flame, the orange hue and white core, flickering slightly but solid enough in shape and colour.

Someone was talking over his shoulder – several someones, whispery and faint on the wind. The main voice was familiar enough – Liz, but not quite. He chooses to ignore the difference.

He feels the bright heat and the wobbling shape, forces it to become real, then David Rain opens his eyes.

It isn’t that impressive for a little light that has completely shattered several laws of physics. It looks more like David is hiding a birthday candle in his palms. A very small, very shit birthday candle. Been there, he thinks.

Tam, however, had clearly not been there. His eyes have gone wide, and the cigarette looks in serious danger of tumbling straight out of his mouth.

“Fuck me.” He mumbles.

“Not right now.” David says, raising his hands to his mouth.

The flame is real enough to catch, and David is soon offering his palms to Tam. He bends his head to accommodate the spark.  

Once the second cigarette is lit, David pulls his hands away from one another, extinguishing the light. Tam takes a drag, still staring wide-eyed over the rims of his glasses.

“Jesus fuck. Have you always been able to do that?”

David laughs. Have I, indeed.

“First time.”

“Christ.”

He takes a drag of the cigarette. Two men puffing smoke on the front door-step of the dragon-potter’s house – it was no wonder that rumours of real, scaly dragons have popped up in the neighbourhood. David imagines there might be more rumours of that calibre soon, but pushes it to the back of his mind.

“You had something to ask me.”

He considers denying it for a moment, then lets it go.

“I did.” Tam says, chewing over the next syllables in his head before he finally lets them loose, “Are you alright?”

-----

[David/Zanna. I hit early series David with the transgenderism beam. Zanna does David’s makeup, she has feelings about it. 1038 words. (31 December 2022… omg happy birthday ‘transes ur gender.docx’)]

It’s a joke.

It’s a joke.

Zanna has joked approximately a thousand times that he has the right face for makeup. That David has nice lashes and deep eyes and a just slightly soft jaw. He is indulging in the joke.

It means absolutely nothing, other than that he has a sense of humour.

In fact, it’s so funny that David is sat stock-still. Committing to the bit and allowing his partner to work her magic is going to make the outcome objectively so much funnier.

It’s a little bit secondary school sleepover – not the type that he’d ever been to, of course, there were a few more dicks and a bit less lip-gloss at those, but the thought remains – David perched on the edge of the bed, Zanna leaning tantalisingly into his space, a look of wicked concentration on her face.

He continues to avoid Zanna’s eyes. If he catches them then he’ll just start laughing, and then Zanna will start laughing, and then they’ll be a mess and the joke won’t get finished. Given the time she’s spent on his eye-shadow, it would be a shame at this point.

Lucy had never really been into makeup, or at least none of the fancy stuff. But she had found the idea of doing him up absolutely hysterical. She’d offered a hundred times but the thought had always struck something deep inside him – annoyance, was it? That she felt like he was a doll to practice on, maybe?

That she would absolutely fuck it up on purpose?

And considering the whole joke is that Zanna’s going to make him look like a girl, what would’ve been the point in fucking it up? They’ve already established that being overly serious is hilarious.

That looking convincingly like a girl when he’s not one is the peak of comedy. 

On the desk over Zanna’s shoulder, Zookie huffs. He twiddles the pencil between his paws, scaley eyebrows drawn together.

He flips the page and looks up at David. Whatever he was hoping to see, he does not, and the dragon shakes his head, tapping the book with some impatience.

Hmph, David thinks, if only you had some way to tell me things that we’ve used a dozen times. Or a language we both speak. What a crying shame.

“Alright?”

“Fine.” His voice is a little rough from disuse and nothing else. They have been sat in silence for quite some time.

“Sure?” a brush flicks around the corners of his eyes, “It’s not getting in your eyes, is it?”

“No.”

She snorts to herself, dropping the brush back into a basket of the bastards.

“You’re being very talkative, darling.”

“Sorry, I forgot I was meant to.”

“Relaxing when other people do your makeup, isn’t it?”

David hummed.

“Becca always falls asleep when I do hers. Nightmare when you’re meant to be going out somewhere.”

“Becca?” He tried to conjure an image of Zanna’s older sister in his mind. The result was a woman who was very much normal. Or at least, not someone who dresses remotely like her sister. “Isn’t your style a little… much for her?”

“Oi! She’s not boring, you know. And anyway, I can tone it down, and I am right now. I wasn’t aware you wanted me to make you a gothic princess, David.”

Oh, that might have been ni- funny, it would have been very funny.

It would have been nice to see himself in so much makeup because it would have enhanced how funny the entire situation was.

Which it is right now – funny.

When he doesn’t answer, Zanna knocks him gently with her elbow.

“I’m joking, you clod. You’ve got a perfectly normal face going on. The old ladies in Sainsbury’s will live.”

The idea of leaving the house like this – whatever this looks like – sends a jolt of ice down his spine. It’s an electric feeling that he doesn’t know how to place. It sits deep in his chest in a way that almost hurts. Somehow he’s not sure that it’s a bad hurt.

He forces himself to laugh, though it comes out a little mechanical. If Zanna notices, she is too busy trying to drag the eyeliner across his face in a straight line to comment.

“What’s the point then? Go big or go home, eh?”

-

“Et, voila! What d’you think?”

He looks himself in the eyes and a jolt of panic runs the entire way through his body.

Oh God.

It’s a thin pane of glass in the Pennykettle’s bathroom, but David is half convinced that if he reaches out, his hand will pass straight through the frame.

That’s not him. It can’t be.  

He watches himself crumple before he feels it happen, and once he cracks, the entire thing goes.

Zanna’s arm wraps around his middle, and she starts to pull him gently away from the mirror. David’s feet are cemented to the tile, they continue to stare over her shoulder at the reflection. They’re not convinced they could look away if they tried, as if some ancient magic has bound them to the spot, encased them in ice.

Their reflection is crying. Zanna brushes a hand through their hair carefully.  

“Hey.” She says softly. “We can take this off, if you want.”

She’s already leaning for the makeup wipes when David’s head shakes.

“It’s not that…” Their voice catches, much smaller than it ever has been before. “It’s not bad.”

Then what is it?

The eyeliner has tracked all the way down to David’s chin now, and Zanna wipes away the offending drop before it can stain their jumper. Only when she blocks the mirror fully from view does David look back to her.

“No?” she asks. She’s whispering, like this moment is something that could be broken by a raised voice. David’s not so sure that’s wrong. They find themself leaning minutely towards Zanna. “Then what is it?”

“That’s me.”

The waves finally crash to shore.

It washes over Zanna quickly, and David watches as the words hit them both full force. Her eyebrows arch, and the whites of her eyes widen around her dark irises. But just as quickly, any surprise is gone.

“Oh.” She whispers. “Oh, love.”

-----

[Tam vs Lucy. After winning at the battle of Isenfier, everyone bickers. Tam suffers. (yoinked from larger wip about the fallout of Isenfier) 576 words (June 2024)]

Tam blinked to clear his head. Right…

“The… cat.”

Lucy frowned in that vicious way that all teen girls seemed inherently skilled at.

“She’s a girl now: keep up, Tam!”

He raised his hands in mock-defence, “Right, sorry. And this girl is… our problem why, exactly?”

Lucy huffed again, as though she thought Tam was being particularly dense. Perhaps he was, but he rather thought he was owed a little more leniency on account of only recently having been un-buried-alive. God forbid he be a little behind on his dragon apocalypse lore.

“She’s one of us. She stays.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and jutted her chin in Tam’s direction indignantly. “There’s room in the car, anyway.” She added, as though that was that.

Tam chose to ignore that this was his car, and that it was rapidly going to become a tight squeeze if they continued to adopt every miscreant they encountered in the West Country. Surely ‘Bella’ had family, somewhere? She hadn’t always been a cat - right? - and therefore didn’t really have to become their problem. Though, undeniably, it was difficult to argue with the rapidly deflating look on her face; if she started to cry Tam wasn’t sure he’d be able to argue. Perhaps someone could lay in the boot if it got too cramped. Maybe Zanna would do him a favour and knock him out before he had to do the tetris-ing himself.

“That’s very kind of you, Mr Tam.” Bella said, as if Tam had anything to do with the offer. Lucy gestured wildly and with finality to indicate that everything had, obviously, been sorted.

Zanna and David were exchanging looks to the side. “We’ll discuss this in the morning,” Zanna eventually settled on, “No one’s going back to Scrubbley tonight anyway.”

Lucy started.

“Why not? We have to tell mum that everything’s okay – she needs to know it worked and that the ix are gone and-”

David clapped her on the shoulder, having to look up a little to counteract Lucy’s lankiness.

“It’s fine, squirrel. We’re all going to have a chill evening to cool down from saving the world, and let Liz know over the phone not to expect us back yet-” He pat his chest, where the inner pocket of his jacket sat, and blanched. “With the phone I don’t have anymore… where the hell has that gone?”

David let go of Lucy’s shoulder and began to check the rest of his numerous pockets. It was a bizarre interpretation of the dance Tam’s father had done every few feet when he walked through an airport. After smacking enough of his clothing and finding them bereft of his beaten up mobile, David eventually gave up, slicking a hand through his hair and sending dust and soil through it in dark streaks.

“Well, that’s somewhere. Never mind, I’ll call her at the lodge.”

Tam patted at his own jeans and was, for a moment, fooled by a particularly hard wad of dirt. He was forced to admit that he too had lost his phone. It was going to be a damn pain to replace.

“There’s not going to be any electricity at the BnB. This entire place is shredded.” Tam said, as he certainly didn’t have a phone of his own to offer.

“I’m sure I can figure something out.” David said.

Zanna rolled her eyes.

“Why do I hate the sound of that?”

-----

[Sophie & Zanna, end/post book 2, reflecting on the whole ‘wait is this cheating??’ situation (no it’s not, it’s Zanna having a big gay crush on Sophie that she will never completely recover from/come to terms with). They should’ve made out 😔. 277 words (November 2024)]

“Sorry, I – I didn’t know. About you and David.” Once she’d said it, Zanna wasn’t strictly sure it was true. She’d known David had a girlfriend; she just hadn’t cared. It didn’t seem that David had either. She felt herself flushing at the thought, well aware that she’d been caught in the act.

“No harm no foul.” Sophie said, an easy smile on her cherry pink lips. Her eyes crinkled at the corners – the irises very blue, like syrup dripped through ice. She didn’t seem to care in the slightest that Zanna had been enabling her boyfriend to cheat on her. “I was on my way to break up with him officially and we were pretty much over in October. You’re not on my territory, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Sophie’s territory truly hadn’t concerned her at all – clearly – but Zanna still felt offbeat, an uncomfortable sweat building at her forehead. Sophie was far too calm about the entire affair, her straw blonde hair tied back in a ponytail low at the base of her neck, strands tickling her face. She brushed one away with her knuckles and brought her hand back to rest in her coat pocket. There was a security in the way she stood – relaxed, unbeaten by the breeze.

Zanna tucked a loose braid behind her ear, the beads and charms clinking in uneven tones.

“It wasn’t his idea.” She found herself saying regardless, feeling like a child at confession. “I kissed him first.”

Sophie’s eyebrows quirked curiously. Her smile widened, top lip curling away from her teeth. She inclined her head gently. “I would imagine so. He’s dreadfully slow with anything romantic.”

[jeromesxreader16]

Such A Joker (48)

Part 47 Here!!!

~o0o~

"Alright Ms. Gordon, this is going to be a bit cold.'' The doctor places the gel on my stomach. Barbara holds my hand smiling.

"and there it is." I watch the doctor point at a small dot. "wait. What is that?" Barbara asks squinting at the screen. "Ah, good eye Ms. Keen. Congratulations (y/n), you're carrying twins." I look at Barbara gasping. "Twins." Barbara smirks and covers her mouth. "I guess this is what happens when you get with two brothers!" "Hush Babs! That's not how it works!"

The doctor smiles as we watch the two dots dance alongside each other.

~

I walk into Jeremiah's office smiling at the photo of the babies. "And right here we can use the commanded wire so it will transfuse- darling - you're back." I look up in a daze seeing Bruce and Jeremiah both in the office working on the project.

"Oh! I'm so sorry to interrupt! I'll come back, boys." Bruce shakes his head. "No, no, Ms. Gordon. Please." Jeremiah walks over with a kiddish grin. "How is it?" I smile at the picture before handing it over to him. "They are just fine." "They?" Jeremiah stares down at the picture showing the two babies. "Twins, Jeremiah." He smiles engulfing me in a hug. "Mother always said twins are better because you have double the love." I laugh rolling my eyes.

"Congratulations, (y/n). On the engagement and the child." Bruce says hugging me. Jeremiah shrugs placing an arm over Bruce's shoulder. "I may have told him earlier."

~

I knock on my dad's door tapping my foot. "(Y/n)!" He opens it hugging me tightly. "Hi, dad!" I enter sitting on his couch. "I'm just watching the game. You want a beer?" I shake my head, placing my hand on my stomach unconsciously.

"What's that?" "What?" My father picks up my hand with my engagement ring. "Oh! Actually what I came to talk to you about. Jeremiah proposed. Can you believe it?"

My dad scoffs, "Son of a bitch." "Aren't you happy?" "Are you sure you want to do this, (y/n)? Marriage is a big step. Then you'll start a family, and you don't know the first thing about how to raise a child. I just think you should slow down a little." I stare at Jim with disbelief. "Slow down? That shouldn't matter if I'm happy with him, dad."

"I know you like him, and he is a good guy, but are you sure he's the right one? His brother was a-" "He is nothing like Jerome!"

Jim shakes his head, sighing. "I think you should rethink this." I stand up walking to the door. "Is it your plan in life to kill my happiness? You can't control me anymore. I shouldn't have even told you." I open the door exiting the home as my father calls out for me into the Gotham sky.

"Who needs him."

~

Late into the hours of the AM, I awake by the sound of laughter echoing through the halls. I reach for Jeremiah only to find his spot empty. "Uh oh. Better check on him. Make sure he hasn't gone overboard!" Jerome laughs as he covers up in his brother's spot in the bed.

I follow the echo towards the living room and upon entering I see Jeremiah sitting in front of a camera and applying makeup with a mirror.

"What are you doing?"

Jeremiah turns to me patting his face with my beauty blender. "Do you just take all my things?" "What's yours is mine, darling."

I look down at the table looking at the different things spread out. I pick up strips of false skin and look at Jeremiah. "What are you planning?"

He looks at me and sighs pulling out a colorful notebook. "That is Jerome's." He nods humming. He opened it and pushed towards me showing me a crazy plan to terrorize Gotham.

"I've only taken ideas from him here and there. He's far too insane for anything to work. Look where it got him. He was obsessed with killing me, Bruce, and Jim Gordon."

I huff rolling my eyes at the mention of my father. "Yeah, he had a habit of pissing people off." Jeremiah smirks at me as I speak poorly of Jim. "Read through it. You've played in this game before. I want your advice."

I read the whole plan twice over before looking up at Jeremiah smirking.

"You're going to throw a wake for Jerome at the GCPD?" All while you are what?" He nods putting on the fake scars. "Wait, babe. You're crooked." I move, helping him apply the fake face of Jerome.

"I need those crazed fans of his to handle the chaos while I get some things done for the future. They're my distraction. I need you in the GCPD making sure it plays out." I smirk patting the foundation on his face.

He smirks up at me and shrugs. "Once you start to show I need to keep you safe throughout this process. It's going to be messy, darling." He chuckles looking in the mirror.

"Ecco could be your sidekick after I'm out. She can wear my stuff." Jeremiah smirks, grabbing my wrist. Turning to face me with his icy eyes. "Trust me, love. I've got everything laid out. She's already agreed to stay by our side, love."

Jeremiah sits at the camera composing himself. "Ready, Jer?" He nods, closing his eyes and giggling.

"3... 2... 1... ACTION!"

~

"Ecco, tie me up will you?" She rushes behind me tightening the back of the black top. "You look amazing." She says smiling at me from over my shoulder. "She does, doesn't she?" Jeremiah smirks from his seat as he gazes at me.

Ecco clears her throat backing away emotionless. "You have everything you need, love?" I stand in front of Jeremiah pulling out the recording, megaphone, and my gun. "Locked and loaded, baby." He grins nodding at me. "Such a good girl." He snakes his arm around my waist and walks me out to my motorcycle.

"Now I want all three of you to be safe." Jeremiah places his hands on my stomach kissing my forehead. "So cheesy." He smirks at me smacking my bottom quickly. "Get on the bike. Mrs. Valeska, and come home quickly. Your husband will need you."

~

I roll up as the leader of the gang is speaking full-hearted words of my lost lover. "Brothers and sisters, let's raise a glass to our fallen leader. To Jerome!"

"To Jerome!" They chant, then spit on Jerome's grave. I giggle stepping out. "To Jerome. He will be missed. Certainly by me." The gang giggles and looks at me questionably.

The leader walks up to me looking me over. "This affair is invitation only." "Hm. Well, I have to say I'm a bit upset you didn't invite me." I remove my mask and they all gasp. "Ms. Gordon!" "It's her!"

The leader gasps getting on his knees. "I am so sorry! I meant no disrespect." I scoff rolling my eyes. "Stand up. I've got something to say."

"The Queen shall speak!" Followers help me upon a grave acting as a small stage. I lift the megaphone and recorder playing the message. "Why so sad, bozos? Did you think they could get rid of me so easily? Well, okay. So, they did. I'm dead, but let's not dwell on negatives. I have one last party to throw. But first, on the to-do list, dig me up. Dig me up!"

"You heard him!"

"Come on, clowns! Dig him up!"

"Get Jerome!"

I laugh at the idiots giving the direction to invade the GCPD bright and early.

~

I walk into the GCPD, passing the investigation room, and seeing Lee of all people. I laugh walking to meet my father yelling at Harvey.

"Get out of here." "What?" "I don't need that crap thrown in my face right now. Get out of here!" I walk up laughing. "Wow, mad because your ex got arrested? Tough case."

"(Y/n). What are you doing here?" I shrug sipping my coffee. "I was in the neighborhood. Can't I stop by and see my father? Or are you still mad at me for being happy?" Jim looks down avoiding eye contact. "Can we please not do this here?" "Want some help then?" I walk in the door of the investigation room before Jim can stop me. I turn to Lee smiling, "Hey there, lady. I've heard you've been having some real fun."

She looks me over grinning as she analyzed my frame. "(Y/n), I wasn't expecting you. Your... glowing." I wink at her sitting in one of the chairs.

My father walks in sitting down across from her heatedly. "What the hell, Lee?"

Lee raised her brows, "I don't suppose this is where anyone expected our story to end." "So, it's ending?" "Hard to imagine what's left."

My father sighs, "I wanna help you." "How?" "Give up Nygma." I gasp slamming my hand on the table. "You and Ed? Oh my gosh! So cute! How about this. You could just return the money, right? We can ask the DA for supervised probation." Lee shakes her head. "I'm not betraying my friend."

"They can call you "the Doc," you can rob banks, fight gangsters, but I know you. You're Lee Thompkins. And all this, this is just a... A way of helping people. I understand that. Who doesn't want to be Robin Hood? But you're still breaking the law."

"Jim, you wish you could do what I'm doing. Helping people without the straitjacket of the law? As if the law means anything in Gotham. Look at your daughter free and running around after she committed murder." I glare at her. "I've got my sane papers to prove it, T."

"You want to send me to Blackgate? Go ahead!" Lee challenges loudly. "I don't want to send you to Blackgate! It's the last thing I want to do! Don't you know I wish I could let you walk out that door, turn my head."

I look at my father tilting my head. "Then what's holding you back, Jimbo? Maybe if you'd let her go, you'd let yourself go, too. You could let me go." Jim furrows his brows fighting with himself.

Suddenly the tension is split with knocking on the door. Harvey pops his head in, "Sorry to stick my face in your business, but something just came up."

I walk into the big office stealing the chair at the desk. "What's this all about?" "Your ex-boyfriend twice over has just granted us with a gift. Any clue on what it is?" I shake my head playing along. "How could he have planned this? You don't think he might still be alive, do you?"

Harvey turns to Mr. Fox, "What were the autopsy results, Lucius?"

"Dead when he came in, more dead when he was eviscerated, and his brain was sliced up."

The screen on the TV focuses and Jerome appears on the screen. "Hello, Jimmy! If you're watching this, things must not have gone well for me. Shucks! I know my dear, doll is crying herself to sleep in my brother's arms. I can only pray, I gave as good as I got, and left ample carnage in my wake. But I don't want to fixate on disappointments. Jimmy, I have one last teensy request for you from your ole late son in law. I want you to throw me a wake at the GCPD. Don't worry about the guest list. I've already sent the invitations."

A car horn sounds loudly outside and the rumble of the gang outside rises. "I don't like the sound of that," Harvey says looking around the room.

"Lockdown everything, now! Everybody listen up! Lock it down! Lock it down, now!

The mod bangs against the door risking the chance of invading the GCPD. I look over the panic of the cops biting my lip. "What are we going to do? We need to hit them! Get them away from here." I say frustrated.

"We're not. We're going to let them in." Jim says, making me look at him wide-eyed. "Have you lost your mind, dad?" "(Y/n), you know how Jerome works, dead or alive. He uses distractions." I look at the door that is about to bust wide open to the freaks on the outside. "We're just going to let them come in and party?"

Jim nods gathering us around. "This wake is just intended to distract us, while his followers hit the real target."

"Which is?"

Well, we're never gonna figure that out if we're inside, fighting off these maniacs, are we? Look, they come in the front door, right? You fall back, get a few shots off, make it look good. Meanwhile, the entire precinct sneaks out this old service door as quickly as possible. Once we're outside, we surround the building, cordon it off." I smirk at my father's plan. "You're trapping them inside!"

"Correct. They blow off some steam. We hit 'em with teargas, and knock a few heads."

"There is the issue with figuring out what the real target is. Got a plan for that, dad?"

Jim smirks. "I do."

~

Jeremiah POV:

"I didn't think you could get the generator program working so quickly," Bruce says admiring the tower. "You ready for a demonstration?"

"Okay, you hit that switch there, and the facility will be disconnected from the power grid." Bruce flips the switch on the wall allowing the tower to take over the power ridge completely.

The generator hums lowly and glows, seconds later the lights in the building return and the tower is stable. "Ambient energy. No cables or wires of any kind. It's clean and stable. Harvested from micro tremors and air density shifts, it's... It's virtually without costs." I hum looking over my work.

"And with the prototypes at Wayne Labs, we can power all of Gotham?"

"You've kept this project a secret, yes?"

"No one outside of Wayne Industries knows it exists."

I mumble walking towards my desk. "It's the ones who are closest to you that you have to keep your eye on. I know better than anyone." I pull out Jerome's diary chuckling to myself. "Arkham Asylum sent me Jerome's personal effects, and amongst them, I found his diary. It's a catalog of his fantasies and goals. Every twisted vision he ever had." I turn a few pages seeing the horrific drawings.

"Maybe you shouldn't spend so much time reading it." I nod, "(Y/n) says that too. He was obsessed with torturing and murdering me, James Gordon, and you, and if he had been just the least bit sane, he would have destroyed us all. And Gotham would be in ruin."

Bruce walks over placing a hand on my shoulder. "Your brother's dead, Jeremiah. It's time for you to come out of this bunker and join the world. You'll be a father soon, and you can't expect your kids to have their father living underground."

I shutter and nodded in agreement. "Yes. Yes, he's dead. I still have trouble believing it."

Bruce picks up his phone suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Alfred. I'm on my way." Bruce faces me again, "Lunch plans... That was a lie."

"You're lying to me, Bruce?"

He sighs, shaking his head. "You're right. I'm sorry. It seems some of Jerome's followers are causing trouble." I shutter in panic. "Oh, my God. I was right."

"No, Jeremiah."

"I was right. He's not dead. Bruce, he's not dead. He's alive, and he's coming after me and (y/n)!"

Bruce grabs my shoulders holding me steady. "Jeremiah, easy, easy. You're not thinking clearly. Come on, this isn't like you."

I sigh looking at my friend letting everything play out. "Bruce... Bruce, I need to tell you something. After Jerome died, he left one last final trap for me and (Y/n)... He sprayed both of us with his insanity gas." Bruce backs away slightly.

"It's a special mixture just for you, brother," he said. I can't stop seeing him. Clawing his way out of his grave, coming for me, and even though I know it's not real, it feels real. And I can't control myself." Bruce nods coming forward again. "What if I could show you he's dead and buried?" "How?" "We go there, to his grave."

I shake my head frantically. "No. No, no, no."

"Jeremiah, listen to me. Your brother took away your greatest strength, your mind, and turned it into a trap. But if you can see the reality, you can be freed from that trap." I stare at him in hope. "You really think that would work?" He nods his head. "I do."

"Then I'll try. You're a good friend, Bruce."

~

The freaks in the GCPD cause chaos as we try to escape. "There's too many of them." I scramble on my feet down the hallway and into the locker room with my dad.

"We have to go!"

I race to the door only to be knocked down by a cult member. She smirks at me and I wink at her going along with our little act. "Hey, there little thing!"

"Well, look at us. We caught ourselves Captain James Gordon and his little girl! How fantastic!"

"Hi, guys." My dad grins at them.

"Don't try and get chummy with us, Gordon. We're gonna carve you up."

"Yeah, no, I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to them." Jim says pointing behind us towards Harvey. "Hey, man, you like to dance?" Harvey tases them.

"Let's you and me talk outside, what do you say?"

They stuff the poor guy in the trunk and tase him every few minutes for an answer.

"Long live Jerome!"

Harvey groans, tasing him once more. "All right. One more time, sunshine. Did Jerome leave any other instructions?"

"I'll never- AH!"

"All right, look, this is how it's going to go. You're going to start talking, or I'm gonna stop caring whether you can talk, you got it?" He groans and nods looking at Harvey with fear.

"I'll talk! It's too late, anyways. They're already dead."

"Who? Who's dead?" I challenge with worry. He giggles and replies in a sing-song voice. "Jeremiah and Bruce Wayne." I shut the trunk frustrated.

"He can't be telling the truth, can he? Dad, if Jer is gone..." "Don't worry about this. I want you to go to your apartment, (Y/n). I'll bring Jeremiah to you. I'll go to the bunker." I nod sighing. "Be careful."

As I walk away from the GCPD I call Ecco. "It's a go. He's heading there now."

~

Jim POV:

"Bruce? Jeremiah?" I call out into the stone bunker. I walk into Jeremiah's office seeing the large generator creating a static buzz. The monitors on the wall turn on revealing a static picture of Jerome. "Hiya, Jimbo!"

"Jerome..."

"Ah! Don't bother talkin' to me. This is a recorded message, and plus, I'm still dead. Just more posthumous fun. Look, I knew you'd see through all those shenanigans at the station. I've given all my fans a script for them to follow. See, I wanted to bring you here. Oh!" Suddenly a gun is pressed to my head from a masked figure. "Don't mind her. She's just here to make sure there's no talking during the movie. And, trust me, you're gonna wanna pay attention, so the twist makes sense at the end."

Jerome laughs easily. Two hands reach around his neck strangling him allowing me a chance to fight off the masked women. Once battling her to the ground I remove the mask. "Ecco?"

Jerome goes limp on screen only to have him pop up on the other. He pulls his sleeves up smiling, "I tell you, suicide really takes it out of a guy." He pulls out a red cloth and wipes his face with it. "Huh. What's this?" Jerome peels the skin from his face smirking at the screen.

"No."

He holds the cloth over his face concealing his features. "Jerome is dead." He removes the cloth revealing a pale-faced Jeremiah. "Long live me." He speaks with a calm smirk as his icy eyes burn into mine.

"I apologize for the deception, Jim. I needed to ape Jerome in order to persuade his followers to throw that macabre celebration at your police station. They are a pathetic lot, but not without their uses."

Ecco gets up and exits the room locking the door in a split second. I pull against them in an effort to escape.

"Ah, sidebar, that is a self-perpetuating generator. It can store a phenomenal amount of energy. I would hate to be within a mile of it if it were to overload."

~

"Now do you believe I'm not your brother? Jeremiah, listen to me! Jerome's followers are doing this! Nothing else makes sense. He sent them instructions to torment you." Bruce cries out as I examine my brother's face. I scoff, "How fake. Yes, I can see quite clearly where you cut off poor Bruce's face, and stitched on your own. But I am a man of science. So, let's have some evidence, huh?" I pull out a knife lunging at Bruce.

"Let's go, brother. Let's pull off that grotesque facade." I giggle, swiping the blade at Bruce. He twists my arms and grabs me in a locked hold.

"Jeremiah! Do not let him turn you into him! Do not let Jerome win this battle! Think about your kids! Think about (y/n)!"

I giggle in his grip, "Jerome, beat me? That'll be the day."

The followers come out ripping us apart chanting.

"Long live Jerome! Long live Jerome! Long live Jerome!"

A member holding onto me yells, "Jerome is victorious at last!" I roll my eyes whipping my gun out from my sleeve and shooting him dead. Blood splatters on me as he falls and the yard grows silent. "Jerome victorious? Are you serious?"

I look down gesturing to his dead body. "He's dead. Haven't you been paying attention?"

I sigh pulling out a rag and wiping the olive tone cover off my face allowing my pale skin to come to the light.

I smirk walking over to Jerome and kicking him back in the grave. "I am the one who's victorious."

I turn back to Bruce and the cult smirking. "Look, Bruce, like everything Jerome set his mind to, his insanity gas failed. Other than some mild cosmetic effects, he might as well have sprayed me with water. You all need to see Jerome for the utter dud that he was. So, I donned the mask of madness to show you how feeble that is compared to actual greatness. Behold, the face of true sanity. But looks aren't everything. I have a compendium of Jerome's obsessions and goals. I will outdo every one of them."

(Y/n) stolls out reading Jerome's diary. "Jerome wanted to turn Gotham into a madhouse. But Jeremiah taught me to build something, you must first tear down what is already there. Start fresh." She smirks looking over the pictures.

"Jeremiah, the gas worked. Both of you are insane!" Bruce fights against the hold of the followers. "Think about it. You want to carry out Jerome's crazy plans sanely? What could be madder than that?"

(Y/n) steps up, pinching Bruce's cheek. "Madder? Bruce, you're so misled."

"May I, love?" I take the book from (y/n) turning to a page full of insanity fueled ideas. "Ah, here, for example. Jerome wanted to slather you in honey, and have you eaten alive by corpse beetles... Now, that's mad. Me, if I wanna kill you, I'll just do it. I'll shoot you in the head. Simply and sanely." I finish aiming my gun at Bruce and smirking. "But I don't want to kill you."

All the followers groan with disappointment. "Are you gonna listen, or are you gonna behave like children?"

"See, I don't want to kill you, because I wanna show you how much I've changed things. How much we've changed things. Because I could not have done any of this without your help." Bruce furrows his brows.

"My help?"

(Y/n) smiles leaning against me. "Should we tell him, Jer?" She giggles looking up at me. I kiss her head sweetly.

"I feel very indebted to you, Bruce. See, those generators that we built with your money... they work even better as bombs."

~

"That sound you're hearing. That is a very bad sound. One which, I'm afraid, makes you something of a guinea pig, Jim."

I look behind me seeing the generator buzzing louder each second. "Killing you will help secure the loyalty of Jerome's minions, but more importantly it will keep you out of (Y/n)'s life. Now, she doesn't know this yet, but it's for the better. And, well... That is that. Goodbye, Jim Gordon."

~

Suddenly an explosion goes off in the direction of the bunker. Jeremiah smiles watching the gas cloud. "That's one down. Jim Gordon is dead."

"What?" I look up at Jeremiah shocked. "You didn't tell me you were going to do this. T-That's my father, Jer." He sighs pouting his lip towards me. "Love, I understand, but he was never going to let us be together. Now, we can be a real family. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Aww, now, that's actually cute. Son of a bitch finally did it! Be happy he's not controlling your life anymore, doll!" Jerome's voice flashes in my ears.

I gulp looking in the direction of the smoke. "I think I'm more upset about our home."

Jeremiah smirks looking at me. "I've set us up, darling. Don't you worry. Everything important was moved last night."

Bruce fights against the follower's hold. "(y/n), how could you do this? He is your father!"

Jeremiah waves his hand, hushing Bruce. "Sorry, Bruce, but progress requires sacrifice."

"I'm going to stop you." Bruce sneers. I sigh, shaking my head. "I really hope you don't try. I would hate to have to kill you. In fact, I can honestly say, you are my very best friend." I walk over hitting him over the head with my gun, and throwing him in the grave with my brother.

I wrap my arm around (Y/n) walking away from the graveyard. "Well, that was fun." She said giggling. I smirk holding her close. "Yes, it was, love. Long live us."

"Jeremiah! Jeremiah!" The followers chant behind us as we file out. ~

Ecco follows behind us as (Y/n) and I walk down the dark hall towards the generator base in Wayne Enterprises. "Good evening, gentlemen." I speak waltzing towards them.

"Hey there, Mr. Valeska. You and (Y/n) alone or is that Mr. Wayne behind you too?"

"No, Mr. Wayne. She's just a little help."

(Y/n) pulls out a gun shooting both men dead. "Nice shot." Ecco praises her as I open the doors revealing the many bombs. I grin overlooking my projects. "Look at these. The gifts of true friendship. Ecco, let's load them on the trucks. It's time to give Gotham City its new face." I pull (Y/n) to me smiling. "It's time I build a city good enough for my Queen." I place my hands in her stomach getting jitters. "And for my heirs."

[shuheather]

50 questions

tagged by: @azfool ty these are fun !!

1. What is the color of your hair brush? I use a thick toothed comb these days and it is black

2. Name a food you never eat? Beef

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold? Lately I’ve been too cold like every day but my heat tolerance is miserable

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? Probably checking my work slack

5. Whats your favorite candy bar? Twix all the way bb

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports game? Yes, mostly baseball (at least Cubs, Indians, Orioles, and Red Sox but maybe more), I’ve been to some indoor football games if that counts? Also do you consider yoyoing a professional sport because I’ve been to a million yoyo competitions because of my brother

7. What was the last thing you said out loud? Something in response to one of my brothers about a video game probably

8. What is your favorite ice cream? Chocolate Chip Cheesecake from J. P. Licks (if they ever bring it back I WILL go great lengths to get some) but of the attainable variety honestly anything that has a good amount of chocolate, no fruit, and no nuts

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? Water from my water bottle

10. Do you like your wallet? Honestly not really I never use it, I just keep one of those pockets on the back of my phone for the three cards I need most at any given moment

11. What was the last thing you ate? I had a bowl of Frosted Flakes for breakfast

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? No but the weekend before I thrifted a flannel that I am very excited about

13. What was the last sporting event you watched? Stanley cup final

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? I could eat any sort of lightly salted popcorn for years on end but buttered is good too as long as it’s not too much. Movie theater popcorn makes my stomach upset though so no more of that

15. Who was the last person you sent a text to? Olivia

16. Ever go camping? Yes but not since I was a child

17. Do you take your vitamins? I don’t buy them on my own but when my mom tries to get me to eat gummy vitamins I say no

18. Do you regularly attend a place of worship? Whenever I’m outside I stop to look up at the treetops and the clouds a lot does that count

In all seriousness no my parents never cared about religion much so it’s not something I’ve ever been into

19. Do you have a tan? My Chaco tan from this summer is still going pretty strong but it is fading

20. Do you prefer Chinese or pizza? Chinese 100%

21. Do you drink soda through a straw? I don’t drink soda so undefined

22. What color socks do you usually wear? I always wear funny patterned socks that either I buy or other people buy for me. Common themes include cats, space, and food

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? Honestly yes but I try not to do more than 10 mph over

24. What terrifies you? The future of my country, that everyone I interact with secretly hates me, suffocation (but especially drowning)

25. Look to the left, what do you see? Phone, water bottle, pencil holder I sculpted in high school containing pens and honey sticks, my wall of art/letters/quotes/etc that makes me happy

26. What chore do you hate doing the most? Doing the dishes is hard sometimes

27. What do you think when you hear an Australian accent? I’m bad at separating out Australian accents from English/NZ/etc accents tbh so usually I’m just like ??? trying to figure out where they’re from

28. What’s your favorite soda? I don’t drink soda so undefined

29. Do you go in fast food places or just hit the drive thru? So I don’t eat a ton of fast food these days because their vegetarian options are often few or nonexistent however if I go to Taco Bell I always go in or order online because I do so many modifications that I would be embarassed to dictate it to a person and I would rather just input it on an order screen. Otherwise if I have my order together I’ll drive through as long as the line isn’t significantly longer than the line inside

30. What is your favorite number? I know it’s basic of me to pick my birthday number but 24 probably

31. Who’s the last person you talked to? like, out loud? My youngest brother

32. Favorite cut of beef? I don’t eat beef so undefined

33. Last song you listened too? I listen to music while I work a lot but it’s never music that I know because then my brain latches onto it, so I’m currently listening to Lucky Sue by Men I Trust on my discover weekly but the last song I knew was Just the Two of Us by Grover Washington and Bill Withers

34. Last book you read? I am currently in the middle of The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern and it is wonderful so far would recommend

35. Favorite day of the week? Saturday because I work 9-5 so it is the only day I am truly free rn

36. Can you say the alphabet backwards? I just tried and my brain went “zyxcvbnm” so no

37. How do you like your coffee? I don’t drink coffee so undefined but as a loophole I will say cookies with coffee in them are REALLY good

38. Favorite pair of shoes? In the summer my chacos, right now my feiyues, in the winter my docs

39. Time you normally get up? I am currently working hard to maintain a sleep schedule so my alarm goes off at 9 but left unsupervised I will wake up any time between 9 and noon

40. Do you prefer sunrise or sunset? If I am seeing the sunrise it usually took some level of sleep deprivation to get there which is usually not good for me in any respect so sunset

41. Describe your kitchen plates? I’m living at home rn so we have a variety which includes my plastic Barbie plate which I think is actually older than me but also these plates that were supposed to be fancy dishware and my mom was like “if we don’t just use these they will sit in a box forever” so now they are our normal dishes

42. How many blankets on your bed? I sleep with a sheet (look I also used to be anti sheet but sleeping in a place with no AC changed me okay) and a comforter. In the winter I might add another blanket but I get warm when I sleep so extra blankets are usually not necessary

43. Describe your kitchen at the moment? There is such thing as having too many spice mixes

44. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? I do not drink so no

45. Do you play cards? I used to a lot when I was a kid but now I mostly just play solitaire on my phone

46. What color is your car? I don’t have a car of my own but the car I share with my brother is maroon

47. Can you change a tire? I might need to follow instructions but with instructions I believe I could

48. Favorite state? I don’t think I have a favorite state but if we were doing some sort of mathematical analysis a large amount of my favorite places are currently in Massachusetts

49. Favorite job you’ve ever had? I think probably my current one which is Database/IT stuff for a racial equity nonprofit

50. Tagging: @alnasak because it’s just like the good old days

[crinkled-emotions]

Temperatures Rising || Maxi x Harrison (Bondi Rescue)

I was watching a really recent episode (season 14 somewhere?) and poor Harrison got sized up by this guy who wanted to bash his brains out simply because Harrison approached him about being creepy toward a 15 year old girl. Huge respect to Harrison for being so good about that situation by the way, he handled it really well. Anyway, so this guy didn’t end up beating up Mr Reid but I wondered what would have happened if the guy had tried to. Tommy’s a cool bloke too, so no beef! Tommy’s a younger guy and Harrison has a little more experience under his belt so it makes sense as to why he would take the situation into his hands. Anyway, Harrison gets beat up and Maxi’s there for the aftermath. What a sweetheart.

The cameras surrounded Tommy, Harrison and the irritated Brazilian man, the crew completely silent as Harrison tried to talk him down. Tommy was lowkey tucked behind Harrison, done deliberately by the older lifeguard just in case things got violent. With the cops nowhere to be seen- dealing with another situation- Harrison knew he could make a citizen’s arrest, or he could talk the guy into leaving the beach without any interference from the other boys in blue. Jesse had radioed to tell them the cops would be on their way shortly, but with the guy becoming more and more violent Harrison wasn’t sure he could wait that long. Besides, if the guy wanted to he could head for the hills in a split second.

“Why are the cops coming?”

“You know why mate, you can’t be touchin’ minors like that.”

“But why?”

“Mate, you need to understand that you’ve done something wrong.”

“I simply saw a beautiful girl on the beach, is that a crime?”

“Worse than that, you kissed her and threw another into the ocean without her consent.”

Harrison was sweating from stress and the 47°C heat, but he tried to focus on what was going on. This guy, while small and nimble, could probably pack one hell of a punch- Harrison had very quickly learned not to underestimate people who looked unassuming. Just the fact this guy had thrown a girl into the water was enough to keep Harrison aware. Tommy was hiding behind him still, a half step to the left though so Harrison could move if needed.

 ------------

Another ten minutes pass. Bystanders are watching with anxiety rippling through the crowd, but Tommy steps up to wave them off. Most leave in search of cool air, ice cream or something cold, but a couple hang around. Harrison has his eyes focused on the offender, irritation flooding his veins. Where the fuck are the cops when you need them?

Jesse radioed in again as nerves started to run through Harrison.

“Jesse to Hux, the cops are probably another ten-ish minutes. If you’re worried he’s gonna do a runner I’ll send Hoppo down to escort him, but at the moment we’re just gonna have to watch him. Are you good to do that?”

“Huxy to Jesse; I should be okay. Tommy’s down here, is he okay to be here despite only being a trainee technically?”

“Jesse to Huxy- Tommy’s good mate, you’ve done this before so you know what to do. If you’re worried about him put him on crowd control, I can see the people around you from here.”

“Huxy to Jesse; Cheers mate.”

Harrison turned his radio down, clipping it back on to his belt. The offender was watching him right back, clearly annoyed at being held without an explanation. Harrison could see he was becoming more agitated, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold him on the beach.

“Look, mate, I’m really sorry about the delay, apparently the cops are tied up on the street, so we’re gonna have to just hang here a little longer.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong!” The man yelled, grabbing Harrison by the shirt. Tommy appeared, about to get between them when Harrison stopped him.

“Go get Jesse, tell him to get Hoppo and the cops down here asap.”

Tommy bolted for the buggy, peeling out of the crowd and heading for the tower. Harrison watched for a few seconds then turned back to the situation at hand, wincing when the guy tugged his shirt again.

“I did. Nothing. Wrong. Let me go!”

“Mate this is beyond my control-“

“-I’m not your mate!”

Harrison blinked; just in time for the guy’s fist to come into connect with the lower left side of his jaw. He fell to the boiling sand like a sack of kiwi fruit (pardon the pun), grasping his cheek. He knew without feeling that his nose was bleeding, and he stood after a moment to see the guy had taken off. Innocent bystanders had been shoved, but a couple pointed in the direction the guy had gone. Harrison thanked them, taking off. His radio on his belt crackled, before Tommy’s voice sounded.

“Tommy to Harrison, me and Jesse are on our way but Harries can’t see you anymore; is everything good?”

Harrison panted, speaking into his radio as he dashed.

“Harrison to Tommy and Hoppo; the guy has taken off, I’ve still got an eye on him. Hop, make a citizen’s arrest?”

“Go for it Harrison, get him off the street if you can. The cops are nearby; I’ll let them know what’s going on. Have you got witnesses?”

“Yeah, uhhhh, half of the beach at least?”

Hoppo laughed, before he became serious.

“We can see you Harrison, we’ll be there soon.”

“I got him, go and cut him off on the street just in case I can’t get there in time.”

“Tommy to Harrison; I’ve gotcha mate.”

The radio clicked off and Harrison willed his overheated, exhausted body to keep going in pursuit of this guy, watching out for tourists who had no idea what Harrison was doing. His legs ached, his lungs burned, and all he could think about was hitting up the apartment complex pool with Maxi later. Harrison blinked, and all of a sudden his target was close enough. Another couple paces and he could get him. To one side he could see a cop motorbike and to the other one of the beach Can-Am’s, but that wasn’t important to him in the moment.

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

The guy turned behind him and spotted Harrison, eyes widening. At just the right moment Harrison made a heroic leap, grabbing the guy by the hip and pulling him to the paved ground. They slid a metre, before stopping. When the offender made an attempt to get up Harrison pinned him to the ground, turning him on to his stomach and using his shirt as makeshift handcuffs that would work long enough for the cops to do the real deal.

“Harrison!”

With the ordeal over Harrison’s legs became wobbly when he tried to stand, and he promptly collapsed again. Hoppo and Tommy were there soon after, helping him up. An ambulance rolled up and Harrison looked between the two lifeguards in confusion, chest still heaving.

“I don’t- I don’t understand- why- I’m good, I swear…”

“It’s better to be safe than sorry. That was incredible Harrison, well done. Take tomorrow off, okay? I’ll drop your stuff at your place after work.”

Hoppo’s blue eyes radiated care and paternal warmth, something Harrison hadn’t felt since he left home to start lifeguarding. He only had Maxi and the boys on the beach, but with Hoppo there Harrison realised he felt safe. His eyes began to close from exhaustion, and Hoppo turned to the paramedics.

“I’m coming with him.”

  ------------

“Is there anyone who can take him home, someone he can stay with?”

“His uh- his partner’s at home, I’ll give them a call.”

The doctor nodded, checking Harrison’s vitals once more.

“Okay, I’ll have someone come in and stitch him up, then he should be okay to go home. If he starts vomiting or becomes disoriented bring him back in straight away.”

“No worries. Thanks, doc.”

The doctor left the room and Hoppo turned to Harrison, who was asleep in the bed. The side of his body that had slid on the paved ground when he caught the guy was gashed pretty badly, from his shoulder to his knee and down the offside of his foot. Luckily it seemed the excessive heat from the day’s soaring temperatures had cauterised most of the bleeding, but a couple of the wounds were large enough to need a couple stitches to aid with healing. He also had bruising around his right eye from where he’d been punched, the bruising a green-brown along his jawline. There was a gash on the other side where he’d bumped his head, but the doctor had cleared him of concussion so far.

Hoppo sighed; it was time to call Trent.

  ------------

“Hop, I haven’t heard from you in forever! What’s new mate?”

“You won’t want to have heard from me after this. I’m not sure if it’s on the news yet but Harrison did something incredible today that could potentially have saved quite a few girls from a creep on the beach. In the act of catching this guy, he copped a couple… battle scars.”

“Shit! Is he okay?”

Maxi’s voice deepened, conveying concern for Harrison.

“He needs stitches and he’s got a few bruises; he’ll be pretty sore and sorry for the next couple days but… he’s going to be okay. It was something from a movie Maxi; truly something I haven’t seen in ages.”

Maxi hummed; he could sense there was something else his boss wanted to tell him.

“The docs said he’ll be clear to go home once he’s had the stitches; I have to get back to work, but I was wondering if you could pick him up?”

“Yeah- yeah, yeah course. I’ll be there in a couple minutes, I have a day off; I’m not even on call at the station.”

“Thanks Maxi; he’ll be glad you’re there. He’s sleeping right now, but is there anything I can pass on to him for you?”

“No, no that’s cool. I’m just jumping in the car Hop; I’ll be there in a bit.”

“No worries Trent; take it easy and keep the aircon up high.”

Maxi laughed, and through the phone Hoppo heard him turn it up high.

“Gotcha Hop. See you soon.”

  ------------

Voices whispering in the room woke Harrison from his sleep and he groaned, his good arm going over his eyes as he tried to adjust to the bright lighting. The voices stopped abruptly, and then he felt someone sit on the bed beside him.

“I gotcha Hux, I gotcha. Take it easy.”

“T-Trent?”

Harrison tried to open his eyes to get a glance, but the harsh lights made his head hurt and he cried out, burying his head into Maxi’s side. Maxi sighed, running a hand through Harrison’s sun-bleached hair. The tips, usually brown like the rest, were now borderline platinum blonde from being at the beach a majority of the week. Maxi had to admit, it looked like Harrison had tried frosted tips.

“You’re okay, it’s just me and Hop. Deep breaths; focus on bringing air in then out.”

Harrison’s hand came up to grab Maxi’s, and they sat there for a moment while Harrison calmed down. Hoppo had found the light switch and dimmed it so Harrison wouldn’t be so badly affected, earning a grateful smile from Maxi. The eldest lifeguard left the room, closing the door behind him so Maxi and Harrison could have some time together.

  ------------

“Okay, I’ve signed the discharge papers so you’re good to go. Trent, you know when to bring him back?”

“Yeah doc, I gotcha. Thanks.”

With Maxi’s help, Harrison got off the hospital bed and stood, wincing.

“Okay yeah, I can’t wait for the pool.”

The doctor smiled, doing a final check over Harrison’s file.

“Looks like you’re good to go. If you have any questions, either of you, there’s a 24 hour clinic available on the Bondi Junction road.”

Maxi hummed, wrapping an arm carefully around Harrison’s gashed hip, giving his good one a nudge.

“We’ve got this, right Hux?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna be fine. Thanks for this doc, really appreciate it. The cameras will probably be here in half an hour or so.”

Harrison was clearly exhausted but he still had the twinkle in his eye that made Maxi smile, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“C’mon, let’s get going. You need the pool, a shower, and some aloe vera.”

Harrison nodded, using Maxi as leverage to walk.

  ------------

In the car Maxi kept his hand on Harrison’s thigh, making gentle circles as he drove. Harrison fell asleep pretty much the second he had his seatbelt on and slept all the way back to their apartment. Maxi went between checking him and keeping an eye on the road for the entire fifteen minutes, making sure Harrison wasn’t in any more pain than he already was. Just as he was pulling into the parking area Harrison groaned, shifting his head away from the bright outside to the darker inside. His eyes opened and he squeezed Maxi’s hand, Maxi glancing at him mid-park.

“You good?”

“Mm. Jus… tired. Can we skip the pool?”

“Course. How ‘bout the shower?”

Harrison nodded, eyes closing again. Maxi chuckled, turning off the car- yes; he could park and talk at the same time. He was just that talented. He grabbed everything the doctor had suggested from the passenger seat floor and rubbed Harrison’s shoulder, making sure he was awake.

“I left the aircon on for ya.”

“Thanks Trent.”

  ------------

With one arm around Maxi’s shoulders and the other carrying the pharmacy bag Harrison made his way into the elevator and through their door to the couch, pretty much collapsing straight away. Maxi disappeared into the kitchen and Harrison heard the clinking of ice hitting glass, before he reappeared with that glass full of ice and water.

“Doc says you need to keep drinking so you don’t get heatstroke. Keep it slow.”

Harrison sent Maxi a withering look as he took a sip before placing the glass on the coffee table. He sat up, pulling Maxi on to the couch beside him. He took his boyfriend’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

“I’m okay, y’know. We deal with assholes all the time.”

“I don’t know about you, but assholes don’t punch lifeguards just trying to do the right thing.”

“Maxi-“

“-Harrison, when Hoppo called me I was really scared you’d been really hurt. Just let me freak out for a second, since you’re not.”

Harrison fell quiet and Maxi doubled over, head in his hands. He sucked in a deep breath, releasing it after a couple of seconds before he straightened and pulled Harrison into his arms.

“Yeah; you scared me, but you’re okay. That’s what’s important.”

Harrison hummed, nuzzling against his boyfriend’s neck.

“I’m gonna be pretty busted up for a couple days; Hoppo gave me the rest of the week off to recover.”

“Awwww nooooo, poor Hutz,” Maxi teased, giving Harrison a fake pout. Before he could say anything, Harrison’s lips were on his, and he instinctively closed his eyes. Damn; even with a half busted lip and some face bruising, Harrison was still a good kisser. They pulled apart, and Maxi brushed his thumb over Harrison’s bruised cheek. He winced, and Maxi pulled him into a hug.

“I’m glad you’re okay. Really glad.”

“I was scared for a second there; I didn’t know what was going to happen.”

Maxi glanced at Harrison who had moved to rest his head against his shoulder, the pair stretching out on the couch. Even though it was way, way too hot to do anything even remotely close to snuggling they still sat together on their couch that was probably too small for this, a mess of arms and legs and abs. Every time though, Maxi found Harrison on his lap and Harrison seemed to like that- for being someone willing to speak up when things go to shit, Harrison was quite the cuddler too. Maxi kissed the not-bruised side of his head, sighing.

“How about you get some sleep, and I’ll watch the cricket?”

“Mmm… tells me when we bat.”

Just like that Harrison was drifting off to sleep, one arm wrapped around his stomach while the other had found Maxi’s shorts to take hold.

“Thanks,” he murmured. Maxi glanced down with a smile, and then turned up the air conditioning. If Harrison was going to stay there, that aircon was going to work overtime.

[topicprinter]

Hey guys, I've built a Hackernews-inspired newsletter containing the top 10 articles relevant to founders that were on the HN front-page last week.Why HackerNews? Because it's one of the last places on the internet with meaningful discussion & quality topics. See for yourself below if you don't believe me. Btw, if you want to get this via email every week, go here.1. Patio11's Law: The software economy is bigger than you think (1022 votes)There’s a thrill in finding quiet companies, operating in the background, cashing checks. Software has exploded the number of these businesses. Ten people working remotely can make millions of dollars a year.Austen Allred shared how, when matching Lambda graduates to jobs, he’ll discover software companies he’s never heard of in Oklahoma pocketing $10m/year in profit. Doing things like “making actuarial software for funeral homes.”3It’s not surprising. Of the 3,000+ software companies acquired over the last three years, only 7% got TechCrunch, Recode, HN, or other mainstream tech coverage.4Also, markets like SAP, worth $163B. There is a term for these companies, they're called Hidden Champioons, and you can see a few of them on Wikipedia.Some other useful quotes:I’ve had four jobs in my life and have always been stunned by what is still done by hand. Every company had a task which could be heavily automated but was instead consuming 4-30 people. So if you think the software market is large, consider all the stuff software never reached.I applied for a job at a company in my city, and they told me their product was entirely API connectors for the local banks. In fact all of the companies I've worked for here have been making software for local industries! From solar installers, energy efficient lighting manufacturers, local commerce and POS systems, mechanics software, creative market places, local lead generation.Oh yes, there are tons of giants creating software for health applications you never heard of, defense purposes you cannot hear about, logistic you would never consider (managing competitions, port services, private jet traffic, truck fleets...) and so on. I should know, I make half of my income going from company to company to train their team. They are everywhere. They make billions.Don’t require a user to be interested twice: lessons on reducing signup friction (390 votes)Long story short: A guy made a SaaS prototype and he got a few users by posting on forums. Thing is, his "flow" was to get them to "sign up" to the waitlist and then he manually sent them an invite hours or days later.His success increased when he changed the flow so people get an automatic email to register immediately after they sign up.Kind of obvious, but there's an important principle here:Don't require a user to be motivated twice. Instead, make use and ride of the motivation wide when they sign up. This is pretty obvious if you read BJ Fogg material.Some useful notes from HN comments on users:Treat signups as a leading indicator of success, not the ultimate goal.Asking for an email up front is already too much. Let the user use your service, they'll create some "content" or "configuration" in it. Once they do that, they'll want to preserve / persist it, and then you can ask for an email address. They're much more likely to give you a real email address and validate it, because they're already invested.I'm convinced one of the reasons Zoom is so successful (besides being a great product) is that there is no sign up required at all. Someone invites you to a conference and you just click the link, enter your name and go.Ask HN: What is the best way to target restaurants and small businesses? (28 votes)I really like these threads where you have very bright minds giving advice for a common pain point. Here are some amazing answers:Almost every brick and mortar company’s website includes a phone number. Call 5 of them and order a meal, when you pick it up ask to talk to the manager for a minute. Elevator pitch: you’ve got 5-10 seconds to get them to ask for more time. “When I was ordering food I noticed that I couldn’t prepay online, I almost thought of going somewhere else, how come you don’t have a way to pay before coming in?” “Don’t know how to do that”. “I built a plugin that takes 5-10 mins to set up and people can pay while they order so I don’t have to come inside, can we do a Skype call when you’re not busy to walk through this?”. Once you’ve gotten a handful of trials like this you can start calling but your options with restaurants(especially mom and pop) are to walk in the door or get to them directly on the phone.or this:You can also try to target other companies thay already have large restaurant customer bases, but then you become a SKU in their offerings. It may be more about lead genertion than anything else.​OnlyFans, influencers, and the politics of selling nudes during a pandemic (133 votes)While sites like AirBnb have huge loses, OnlyFans grew 75% during last month. It was launched as a result of platforms like Instagram shutting out adult entertainment workers.I wonder if there is any way to integrate into this platform as a developer and "ride" on its growth :D​The coming disruption of colleges and universities (82 votes)Scott Galloway is a man who predicted a lot of things. He predicted Amazon’s $13.7 billion purchase of Whole Foods a month before it was announced. Last year, he called WeWork on its “seriously loco” $47 billion valuation a month before the company’s IPO imploded.Now, he predicts something happening with universities. . The post-pandemic future, he says, will entail partnerships between the largest tech companies in the world and elite universities. [MIT@Google](mailto:MIT@Google). iStanford. HarvardxFacebook. According to Galloway, these partnerships will allow universities to expand enrollment dramatically by offering hybrid online-offline degrees.How will this disrupt education? Well thousands of brick-and-mortar universties will go out of business.At the same time, more people than ever will have access to a solid education, albeit one that is delivered mostly over the internet.If this is true, it may open a lot of opportunities for makers in the edu space.​Ask HN: Mind bending books to read and never be the same as before?Here are some recommendation for "brain expanding" books:"Rework", "Getting Real", the other books by the old 37signals crew, and of course "The Lean Startup" really changed the way I thought about software development and business. I credit them for much of my startup/programming success.Taleb's Incerto series changed how I thought about investing, risk, and life in general. "Fooled by Randomness" and "Antifragile" are especially good."Basic Economics: A Citizen's Guide to the Economy" by Thomas Sowell. I read this as a teenager with only limited exposure to economics and it cleared up many misconceptions I held."Alchemy: The Dark Art and Curious Science of Creating Magic in Brands, Business, and Life" by Rory Sutherland. Explains why we choose brands over cheaper alternatives, why we're willing to pay a lot more to lock in a deal, why we hate registering before buying the thing (but are more than happy to do so right after), why Sony removed the record button from the first Walkman, and much more.Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. This book makes every bit of life advice you receive afterwards feel shallow. It feels like a reference to western thought.​Scraping Recipe Websites (461 votes)Do you do scraping as part of your job? Then you may want to read this how this site scrapes 99% of recipe website using a logical template.An interesting thing they mention is the concept of LCA (lowest common ancestor) and how they use it to identify part of the HTML most likely to contain all of the ingredients/instructions​My blog is now generated by Google Docs (398 votes)Over and over and over again, I see businesses succeeding just because they tap into people existing habits.Most people are familiar with typing in Google Docs. If you can make a tool where they just press a button and 'voila', it turns it itno a blog post, they're way more likely to use you vs. someone who creates a separate interface (see BJ Fogg and his behavioral design theory).US video game sales have record quarter as consumers stay at home (376 votes)Video game sales are at historic hights. Traffic on gaming-related services like Discord, Twitch, Mixer, and others have hit historic highsThe current crisis probably accelerated video games adoption by 10 years.Ask HN: How to stop anxiety from too many choices? (286 votes)The best advice I've seen here is:Stop shopping start doing. All these decisions I call shopping, where you do a lot of research but never commit. At some point you have to start working on something.Have an ideas journal. Write new ideas down there, and don't start with any of them in less than two weeks. This lets you get over the initial enthusiasm - and perhaps new better ideas will push less useful ones out of the way in that time. If something stays at the top of your list for weeks, then perhaps it is useful.My advice is to lower the value of ideas. A lot of time people think, "If only I had a good idea I would be successful". You will see other people saying things like, "Buy my good idea!". But really, good ideas are a dime a dozen. Good ideas, bad ideas... it actually doesn't make much difference. What makes the difference is execution and timing.To be successful, really what you need is execution and to have the patience to wait until what you are doing is relevant. Of course there is the fear that it will never be relevant. However, if you accept the thesis that the good idea is not valuable in itself, then you realise that it is not really valuable to pivot without a really good reason. A good idea that is never relevant is just as worthless as a bad idea that is never relevant. However, even a bad idea that is executed very well and ready when the opportunity arises can be successful.see the first step, the very next step, and that's it. You don't need to know what step 2,748 is about let alone how to solve it to take the next door. (formally: no premature optimization).Make a decision, and stick to it. In other words, be quick to decide but slow to change. The trick in life is not to "do what you love" (or make the decisions you think are right: spoiler, you'll be wrong 50% of the time). The trick is to "love what you do"I have similar problems sometimes- and remind myself the power of "good enough". Striving for "the best" will often leave you unsatisfied. So instead of thinking "which is better?" think "is this one good enough?"If you want to get this via email every week, see http://founderweeklys.com/