#it just snowballed so i could explain myself more and more

[bunnidid-reviews]

Mini DID book review: One Of Us Knows: a thriller

Author: Alyssa Cole

Publication date: 2024

Diagnosis of DID? Yes, the system has known for a while

Fiction of nonfiction: fiction

Is the person with DID portrayed as evil? Complicated but ultimately no; its one of the major plot points

Major trigger warnings:

death (fighting, blood, some gore but its not described much)

implied sexual assault (nothing described)

Self harm

Misogyny(major plot point)

Abelism

Racism (major plot point also)

Stalking

Kidnapping/mishandled foster care

Dormancy of parts (major plot point)

Parts being kidnapped/speculated to be killed off (major plot point)

Rituals taking place (not religious but has to do with everything on this list)

Covid being a thing(major plot point in the first part, lots of anxiety about covid)

Ratings to how I feel personally

Triggering(0 is nothing at all, 10 is could not handle reading this): 4-5 (not a gentle book but not gratuitous

System dynamics(0 is this is bizarrely off, 10 is holy shit this is a book about me): 7-8 (the conflict between parts is very well written, and so is the understanding of how deep the relationships go)

Switching(0 is doesnt work like this, 10 is this is a book about me): 4? (Nearly all of the switches are blackouts)

System communication(0 is never experienced this, 10 is this is a book about me): 8-9 (we talk to eachother like this a lot)

Inner world dynamics(0 is never experienced this, 10 is this is a book about me): 7 (theres a lot of the inner world, like half the chapters happen inside! However the physics of it were a little too realistic at times to what could happen with me, like i dont have to walk or run to get places personally)

Comorbidity with other disorders(mental or physical)(0 is there are none, 10 is i experience all of this): 5 (there is no physical ailments that come with having DID in this book, which isnt a necessity but many people who do have it also have disabilities so it feels bizzare when there are none. Theres anxiety, depression and faint mentions of disordered eating in this book)

Brief thoughts on this book:

The BadDay system(first book ive read where the system has a system name) has been well-established for many years by now, knowing about their DID, communicating with their others for some time.

The host turned persecutor has been dormant for 6 years now, missing out on covid, while the rest of the system had been active online and functioning in lockdown. Now Ken(the persecutor) is back, with the mysterious disapearence of the previous host and caretaker, Della. All eyes are on Ken wondering what the fuck happened and nobody knows how they landed a job as a caretaker of a mysterious castle on an island, that just happens to be the exact same castle from their inner world.

Mystery and thrilling things ensue as Ken goes through the motions of coming out of dormancy and no parts wanting them there, a blossoming romance with an outsider and a complicated romance on the inside too, all tied together neatly with the strange happenings on the island and the trust that owns it.

I don’t really know how to review for a thriller book, because I don’t tend to read thrillers. But the mysteries were mysterious to even me, who can see where plots are going with DID books typically. And the thrills were thrilling. I couldn’t put the book down, I kept wanting to sink in more and more

I was exceptionally pleased that the author didn’t play safe with the DID as some authors tend to when they’re writing something with modern understanding. There wasnt so much shameful secrecy around the disorder, and the questions and impacts were hard-hitting as she delved into things that I’d be worried about posting about myself. Like the dormancies impacting other parts, parts not wanting the host around. Romance and sexuality between parts. The unsavory and the honest, but also the depth of how much each of them mattered in the system and how much they cared for eachother. It was really satisfying to read! The inclusion of how social media effects people with DID nowadays was really nice to include too, and again, I haven’t yet seen any other media to employ the use of system names like how many do in social media now.

I also really really love that the story was just as much the inner world as it was the outer, as most books have the happenings between parts more hidden.. Having the two stories run side by side makes it feel like this characters life is their DID, as it often is for many of us. Idk I’m jazzed about this, this is what I wanted with DID in media. The DID actually mattering as more than a plot device

The only thing I can really fault it on is the constant blackout with switches. But to be fair, this is implied not to be their normal, and ethe events of this book are extremely high-stress situations, so I appreciate that the weight of that is stressed rather than it being another case of an author just not having personal experience enough to know. (She doesnt have the experience to know, but this was a neat way to bridge the gap)

Overall a great book. Not a fluffy one, and since the main plot revolves around the potential of the main character being the DID Killer, inside and out. So please tread carefully if the questioning of such things is hard for you. And also a thriller, so there are thriller things like violence and tension and things outside of a normal slice of life

Would I recommend someone with DID read this? YES! I do feel like this was written with a lot of care for people with DID

[csuitebitches]

How do you ACTUALLY network? Like the idea of a coffee chat always baffled me. Like a stranger would agree to get coffee with me for me to essentially interview and then what? I guess my bigger question is how do I provide value to them besides buying them coffee? And the whole concept just feels cringe and transactional

I’ll give you two recent examples, one of work and one of a social event.

A friend invited me to a party. I don’t know said friend very well, but we’re on good terms. I said yes cause why not.

I met a girl there who happened to do some very interesting things and had similar interests to me. How did I find that out? I asked her about herself, I found out where she was previously residing, I learned what she did for a living, and I began associating it to the things that I do. She’s from the same city that I want to move to, she now lives 20 minutes from me, and she’s interested in spirituality. My work happened to organise a similar event a week later, which I immediately invited her for. I asked her for her number so that I could send her the invite.

What she immediately liked about me and expressed, was that I don’t use social media, when we agreed to exchange contact info. I explained to her that I’d have to connect her on iMessage/ WhatsApp and not instagram. That allows us to stay in touch much better than on social media.

I left the party earlier than everyone but I looked for her and told her that we should catch up next weekend or whenever she was free. She agreed.

So this is what you learn from example 1:

1. Learn to associate.

When someone tells you that they work in XYZ company, in B city, start by connecting things in your head. Who else do you know works in the same field, could they know each other? What do you know about the work that they do, and if you don’t know much, can you find out more? Most people, including myself, love to talk about what we do at work and what our job entails. Has their work allowed them to travel a lot? If yes, where?

In order to associate, you need to read a lot and learn a lot. You have to understand what’s happening in the world, what the latest news is, because how the hell are you going to continue that conversation?

2. You have to snowball the conversation. The goal is to try and understand WHO this person is. If someone asks you, have you met CSB and you have, you should be able to say yes, this is what she’s interested in, this is what she works in - you should be able to pitch CSB to another person.

Not every single conversation has to be valuable. You also have to decide whether the person in front of you is worth your time.

3. Exchange numbers, not social media. Nothing is going to come out of exchanging instagram or LinkedIn.

4. When you’re leaving the event, look for the person you met and tell them that you’re leaving and that you guys should catch up sometime. If you haven’t exchanged contact info yet, that’s the best way to do it. “Oh let’s catch up again soon! Can I have your number? We can grab a coffee or drink whenever.”

���-

Example 2. I’d gone to a conference a few months ago. I met a young guy, around my age, who works in an accelerator. I’m very interested in the start up world, and he’s working in one of the best ones in the world, at a decent position. He immediately began telling me about recent funding that they did, what sort of start ups they’re looking for, etc. I asked him for more information, which he was super happy to talk to me about.

We’re on very good terms but we live in different cities. I often send him reports because I work in media, and he sends me PDFs and pitch decks. Whenever we’re in each other’s town, we message each other. Otherwise, I make it a point to reach out to him once a month, just casually, to find out what’s happening.

Takeaways from example 2:

5. Scratch each other’s backs. You can’t just get value from the other person, provide them with the same. It doesn’t have to be work related. Let’s say the person you’ve connected with is interested in indie music and you learn that an indie band is playing somewhere - send them a link to the event and tell them that you remembered that they like this genre, and you just wanted to share the info.

6. What’s important to learn is maintaining relationships. I reach out to all my mentors, all my latest connections once a month. That doesn’t mean that I’m necessarily going to meet them face to face, but I just check in and ask how things are going.

So.

Approach. Associate. Snowball. Exchange info. Maintain.

[ohimsummer]

SATORU IN HIS (blind) BAG

summary; opening up Sanrio Christmas themed blind bags with your bf <3 (and also annoying Satoru shenanigans)

— “Satoru!”, travels his name down the hall. “Satoru Gojo!”

At the sound of your call, confusion twists lightly in the pit of your boyfriend's stomach. You usually only bring out the full government name when Gojo’s in trouble, but you don’t sound upset…

Quite the opposite, in fact?

“Satoru!” You thrust a red and green box decorated with Sanrio characters at him the moment Gojo steps foot into the kitchen.

A grin spreads on his face, matching your own, and Gojo takes the large box from your hands. “Oh? Looks like your package came, love-“

He’s barely finished the sentence before you’re talking over him and snatching the box back. “Yes! Come, come open it with me, please!”

And how could Satoru say no to you, his baby, especially when you’re basically bursting with excitement? Stars amidst your eyes, a beaming smile that plumps up round cheeks. You’re too cute for your own good.

The chair at the kitchen island lightly scrapes against the floor, and Satoru leans his head atop yours after plopping down next to you. He tosses an arm over your shoulder, bright blue eyes intrigued as he eyes the festive-themed parcel alongside you and listens to your enthusiastic ramblings.

“They’re keychains.”, you begin explaining to him. “I’m not sure what I’ll do with the others, but I’m at least hoping I get these two for myself.” You point at the yellow dog and green frog. “This one for you.”

Satoru’s stare jumps to the new one you’re pointing at, and he can see why you’d want him to have that one. It’s basically him: the white, excitable dog with round blue eyes and wearing a cute blue Christmas hat. That one—Cinnamoroll—is basically a Sanrio personification of himself.

“He’s a cutie.” Satoru chuckles into your hair, and his thumb rubs hearts into the skin of your shoulder. “Like me, huh?”

“Yeah, you’re both funny lookin’. ”, you counter instantly and poke his nose, giggling as he scrunches it beneath your finger.

He wants to quip back with something annoying, but you’re back to ranting and raving about Keroppi and Purin and how they’re so god damn cute. Satoru studies the small bag between your hands, the plastic material loudly crinkling beneath your fingers as you aim to discover which figure is inside.

“I feel big, round ears,” You ponder more to yourself than Satoru. “,but that could be like...three different characters.”

For your sake, Satoru hopes it’s Pompompurin, the one you favor more than any other character. He grins, scoots his chair a little closer so he can snuggle you better. He finds his own nerves jittery with excitement as you tear open the first bag and pull out…

“My Melody…” You visibly deflate. It’s hard for Gojo not to laugh at your dejected frown, and afterwards your side eye because 'nothing’s funny, Satoru'.

The next few minutes are spent feeling around on each bag before pulling out characters neither of you were aiming for. Pochacco, Kuromi, Bad Batz Maru, and then finally-

“Keroppi!”, Satoru’s strong grip surely prevents you from falling out of your seat in excitement. You shove the cute green frog in his face, clad in a red Christmas hat and holding a snowball. “This is so cute, look at him, Satoru!”

While he studies the keychain, swaying it in his fingers, you continue mindless ramblings that this is finally a good sign. And you’re correct, because the next bag you open holds a beloved Pompompurin wrapped in Christmas lights and Satoru thinks you might just explode. You clasp the little yellow dog to your chest, bouncing and twisting in your seat and so ready to add him to your already obnoxiously full key ring. Satoru sets the Kerropi accessory down and holds his hand out for the Purin one, smirking as you gently place it in his hand. It’s such a cute, fat, little figurine. He can see why you’d like the dog character so much.

“And, last but not least..”, you murmur and tear open the last bag.

“Better be Cinnamoroll.” Satoru tosses the Purin chain up in the air only to let it fall back into his palm each time.

“And you would be correct!”

You hold the adorable white dog up in the air; sunlight streams through the blinds and causes for a dramatic lighting to show behind the figure, lighting it up like an angel departing from heaven. The keychain is handed off to Satoru, who eyes it curiously. It really does look just like him. A mini, Sanrio version of him in a bag.

[britcision]

Guys I dunno how to tell you this this is my favourite fucking chapter so far and before this one the last one was

I know it looks like we’re getting distracted and side tracked off on tangents but I’m having the time of my fucking life and more than half of my favourite bits weren’t in the plan

(We’re still on track and makin’ our way but oh boy the funniest things are all accidents)

AO3 link is as ever still on the first couple of chapters!

First:

Previous:

———————

That’s Not A Twink That’s An Anime Girl

They did eventually have to let Dick out of his snow drifts.

As a former circus acrobat, Dick had the best excuse of all of them to use his vigilante training in public; he’d wormed out of Jason’s grasp, flipped over Duke and made a run for it.

Unfortunately for him, gravity was actually literally optional for Danny, and Danny didn’t even have a superhero identity to protect in Gotham.

He could turn a lot more easily on the slick ice and snow to give chase, a little flight added when friction failed him. On his own, Danny would have probably had to actually fly to take Dick down.

Of course, odds of eight-to-one would weigh on any man. Not a single member of the group wasn’t thoroughly soaked by the hour’s end, sweat under clothes and snow clinging over them.

The journey up to Wayne Manor ended up being done in chunks as the sun began to sink and the cold set in for their more human friends.

Jason, Danny, Duke, and Tim had to go back to the mall to retrieve motorbikes.

(Technically Danny didn’t actually need to, but what he did need was an excuse to get Jason alone for a minute, and he’d put up with snickering from Sam and Tuck to do it.)

Steph, Cass, Damian, Sam, and Tucker called for a cab rather than pack themselves into Dick’s now snow filled car, and their numbers were excuse enough for Danny to slip away.

Which is when Tucker realised he could have probably hitched a ride on Tim’s bike, and spent the whole journey hugging Tim Drake-Wayne.

Buuuuut it’d also mean riding a motorcycle through slushy snow. The dilemma on his face made Danny grin all the way back to the mall, despite the damp now clinging to his clothes.

Sure, the car might reach the manor first and they’d get warm and dry, but that just meant Tucker’d miss out on more Tim Time.

The snowball fight had clearly done Tim good too, he was much more energised as they walked back to the mall, complaining to Danny and the others about Amity Park’s underhanded tactics.

Danny sure as fuck wasn’t going to apologise, but he did have a much more important question: how the fuck did Jason do that landshark-disappearing-into-snow bullshit?

Which… well, was also a chance to fuck with Tim and Duke.

“Seriously Jay, I can go intangible but that snow trick was bullshit,” Danny complained with a wicked glee in his heart, reflected in Jason’s grin.

Tim nearly tripped over his own feet. Duke caught him, his own eyes wide.

“You can what?!” Tim asked in a slightly strangled voice, and Danny gave him his most innocent smile.

“Oh, has Dick not told you? Yeah, it’s one of my things, from the generic end of the list,” he explained casually, turning his arm intangible and phasing it through Jason.

Who made a face.

“Okay but why does it feel like that left a residue?” The larger man complained, scrubbing at his shirt.

Which. Danny paused, frowning down at his hand. Stuck it through his own chest experimentally.

“Y’know, I didn’t know it did that… not like I go through myself often, but I can definitely feel it,” he agreed, sticking his tongue out as he wiggled his hand around, then drew it back.

Duke and Tim looked fascinated and nauseated respectively. Danny gave them both a cheerful shrug and kept walking.

“It’s probably my pit water,” he theorised, and Jason groaned loudly.

“Danny, did you just fucking mix our forbidden smoothies?” He complained loudly, and Duke damn near choked himself on a strangled laugh.

Danny fully had to stop and turn to stare at Jason, delighted awe on his face.

“Oh, I’m calling it that forever. That’s my new favourite thing. Skulker is going to shit his entire liver when he hears “forbidden smoothie”,” he decided gleefully.

Jason smirked and bumped shoulders as he passed, forcing the others to keep moving to keep up. Duke almost jogged to lean around Jason and give Danny a curious look.

“Who’s Skulker?” He asked innocently and Danny grinned at him.

“Oh, one of my rogues. He likes to talk a big game but he’s pretty easy to deal with. All bark, no bite,” Danny explained cheerfully.

Honestly he was a little surprised Skulker hadn’t shown up in Gotham to bother him yet. He must have been having a hard time finding a portal, because it’s not like he’d stop.

Tim and Duke did seem a little reassured by his casual dismissal, but still concerned. Jason cut them off before they could ask anything that might be useful.

Yeah, Jason was kinda Danny’s favourite.

“So how the fuck do I get your smoothie out of my jug?” He asked with an overly disgusted face. Danny fought not to laugh.

“You are so asking the wrong person dude, I didn’t know it happened until just now,” he pointed out and Jason rolled his eyes.

“I’m taking at least six showers when we get to the manor,” Jason grumbled melodramatically, and Danny laughed aloud.

Then paused.

“Wait, how many bathrooms are there? Can we all shower?” He asked Tim and Duke.

Neither of whom looked ready to admit they didn’t know what was going on. Fuck Jason knew his family well.

Duke shrugged, the mall finally coming into sight, and diverted towards the underground parking.

“Well, there’s enough for one each. And Alfred could do laundry for you so you can change right after if you take a long one,” he offered, glancing down at his own now damp clothes.

Best part of a snowball fight: changing back into something warm and dry.

Danny snickered, plucking at Jason’s oversized sweater.

“The way you assume I’m wearing a single thing that I actually own is adorable,” he told the younger man sincerely, grinning as his cheeks heated.

Sure, it was more subtle on dark skin than Danny’s light tan, but he’d been friends with Tucker since he could walk. He knew exactly what to look for.

Was not quite ready for it to be combined with a sly grin right back.

“What, nothing of yours?” He asked suggestively and Tim laughed, quickly catching on.

“Did Jason give you everything?” He asked teasingly, both younger Wayne wards now grinning at their older brother.

Jason’s little pink blush was definitely still Danny’s favourite. He grinned right back, refusing to follow them to a place that didn’t exist.

“Some of it’s probably yours,” he told Tim blithely, tugging at his sweatpants. Which, as predicted, immediately changed Tim’s expression to annoyance.

“Why is everyone wearing my pants today?” Tim grumbled, and Danny’s grin widened.

“They looked a little tight on Tucker if you wanted to help him take them off,” Danny teased and Tim levelled a dry stare at him.

“I do have a boyfriend,” he pointed out coolly, like that was gonna stop turnabout from being fair play.

“Ask him to come help then,” Jason cut in, ruffling Tim’s hair, “you know Connor’s always welcome for dinner.”

For a long moment Tim’s expression froze, clearly actually considering the suggestion. Then he shook his head, sighing and calling the elevator.

“Probably not today. What floor do you guys need?” He asked as the doors slid open, stepping inside.

Quiet day at the mall. Probably the fucking cold, combined with hangovers from the new year.

And as much as Danny was thirsting to ask about that, he also very much needed Jason alone before they got on the road. Hopefully they weren’t on the same level.

“Two,” Jason said, and Tim nodded, hit two and then four. Looked to Duke. Who grinned.

“Three. Sorry Tim, you’re taking the scenic route.”

And for once the universe worked in Danny’s favour. Something fucked would probably happen soon to compensate.

He and Jason left the elevator together, waited til the doors slid back shut, and then headed off towards the bike. Danny didn’t make him ask.

“She’s definitely liminal. Not like, bad? Honestly she wouldn’t even register back in Amity Park. Damian’s is a bit worse, but he’s younger, it happens. Ecto energy likes kids,” he explained when Jason made an inquisitive noise.

He definitely wasn’t bitter or anything. He’d been just young enough to take it in like a magnet.

His parents probably wouldn’t have survived the same accident.

“It’s kinda the only thing horror movies get right. Ectoplasm can form from emotional energy, and little kids, they feel everything that much more. Tapers off when you get older, so Damian’s still a magnet. Cass is stable.”

He kinda wished he had better news, but honestly? After a dunk in the kind of rancid ectoplasm Jason described, Danny was taking it as a win that neither of the others were haunted.

Jason nodded gruffly, pausing beside his bike to pull his helmet back on. Not that it’d stop Danny from reading his mood; his aura pulsed stress-stress-stress-worry like a beacon.

Danny stepped closer, resting a hand on Jason’s shoulder, stilling the movement.

“They’ll both almost definitely become ghosts if they die again,” he explained softly, voice low enough to pass unheard in the echoing space, “but they’ll be fine. Think of it like insurance; you’re never going to lose them.”

Jason snorted, the sound distorting strangely through the helmet, but didn’t pull away.

“Is that what you tell yourself about Sam and Tucker?” He asked, trying to sound derisive but there was a tinge of hope there now.

Danny gave him a gentle wave of sorry-sorry-comfort back.

“Yeah.”

**

Back in the elevator, Tim looked at Duke expectantly. Who sighed.

“I am not a fuckin’ pokedex, Tim,” he reminded the older boy with a roll of his eyes. Which his brother totally ignored, still waiting.

Tim could fucking stare like nobody’s business.

The elevator chimed again and Duke stepped out, not the least surprised when Tim followed.

“I dunno. I thought I almost caught something in the park, but it was just a blur. Tucker and Sam both have more of an aura than Danny, but Danny’s clearly something. I just dunno if it’s a meta gene,” he explained reluctantly, and Tim nodded, already adding the information to his wrist computer.

Which he wasn’t supposed to wear out of costume.

Duke wasn’t gonna tell; he’d be a damn hypocrite if he did, he wore his Signal boots with the bike half the time. They were just much more responsive than normal boots.

“What makes you say that?” Tim asked, still typing away. It’d save Duke from having to add it all to his report, so it kinda counted as a favour.

Duke shrugged, still trying to narrow down the feeling.

“Honestly? Most people with the same meta gene fuck up a little the first time they show off around me. It’s the x-metals; I boost them, whatever they’re doing goes too hard.” Tim’d been the one to help him work that out, but it would all go in the report.

Tim nodded, gesturing for him to continue and Duke sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Danny… didn’t. Unless that’s the residue they were both talking about, and if the fucking Lazarus Pits can cause intangibility we have got to warn Bruce. But that’s not the only thing,” he added quickly, before Tim could speak.

The older boy quieted obediently, but Duke could see he had his thinking face on. Putting pieces together, all those wheels turning as one.

That was practically a fuckin’ meta ability, and it wasn’t like Tim got a boost from him either. Maybe Duke needed to do some more experimenting.

“Most metas, even the nonhuman ones, have at least some aura. Some of them can hide it, but I can get a feel for their powers from it. Danny… I dunno. I can almost feel something, but I can’t see it.”

That was the thing that unsettled Duke the most, honestly. Almost all of his powers were purely light based; seeing what other people couldn’t. Even his shadow manipulation still worked around light.

It was fucking weird for there to be anything he couldn’t see, and he could go way beyond the visible spectrum. Whatever Danny emitted, it went beyond even that.

For a guy who could even see a little into the future, it was weird.

And since Danny had showed off flight, super strength, and intangibility already? And called them the generic end of the list?

Duke was definitely leaning on the “extreme control of his aura” side of the equation.

Tim looked concerned too, which was kind of validating. It kinda sucked being the expert on things no one else could understand, because Duke always worried he was overreacting, but if Tim tagged it too? Well that was validation.

“The only bit of good news is that we can probably rule out the pits as the source of his abilities,” Tim muttered as he scanned back through his notes so far.

“They coulda been trauma activated by his death in the same way as a meta gene,” Duke pointed out thoughtfully, leaning back against the wall.

It wasn’t like they were racing home, and until someone else came down the elevator? No rush. Tim had another floor to descend anyway.

Tim himself shrugged, adding another couple of notes to his file.

“It’s definitely possible, but even if it was a million-to-one chance, I can’t imagine Ra’s keeping quiet about something this useful, or letting someone like Danny run around if he had any idea he existed,” Tim explained, making a face.

And… yeah, no point trying to argue with Tim about Ra’s al Ghul. Duke pulled a face too and sighed.

“Well, he still seems pretty sure we’ll know all about it if we can get into Amity Park. Or when Jason decides to fucking tell us,” he added with a roll of his eyes.

Tim glanced up at him, smirking.

“You noticed too?” He asked innocently, and Duke snorted. Reading Jason’s micro-expressions might not be a survival skill exactly, but it was still a bat family hobby.

“He definitely fucking knows!” He complained, the switch from Professional Hero to Baby Brother getting easier and easier as time passed.

He still had his own parents, he didn’t need Bruce to adopt him, but he’d been an only child for most of his life. Having a new army of big brothers and sisters? Kinda ruled.

And he knew most of the others felt the same. They’d all be alone in their own ways, and the stubborn independent streaks were still there, but…

It was good to know someone had your back. That no matter what happened, how the adults in your life fucked you over, you could always go to Dick’s in Bludhaven.

Could always call Jason to bitch about whatever you needed off your chest, and yeah, there was always the worry that he really meant it when he said he’d “take care” of your problem? But he also listened when they said no.

Hell, it’d been Jason’s couch that Duke had crashed out on about a year ago, back when Jason was still damn near on the Big Bat’s no fly list.

He’d been on his way to school for the start of his winter semester when an absolutely blinding migraine took him to his knees. For whatever reason, Jason had been close.

Duke hadn’t even been able to glance at his phone to call for help; even opening his eyes a crack felt like he was being blinded. He’d barely recognised Jason’s voice asking if he was alright.

Hell, back then he hadn’t known if Jason recognised him out of costume. They’d always had a more friendly relationship than Jay did with the other bats, but this had been just after Jason finally texted Dick back.

Back when Red Hood would take a casual shot at any mask crossing into his turf. Not to hit, but a definite reminder of the border.

And Jason had lifted him bodily and carried him into Crime Alley. Put him on his couch to sleep it off in pitch darkness, and made him some of the best home made soup Duke had ever had.

Duke got why the older teens were still a little wary. He’d seen the Pit Rage live and in person, and it was fucking terrifying. It just wasn’t all Jason was.

And yeah, the family also had a whole army of fellow teens who’d know exactly what you were talking about, between Steph, Tim, Cass, and Duke himself. Even Damian, as much as he pretended not to care.

Kate and Babs were always willing to spread their wings out and give them all a place to shelter. And hell, if adult supervision was needed, they even had Harley, Ivy, or Selina.

Duke may not want to be a Wayne, but he’d take everything the bat family offered with both hands.

Tim sure as hell had not adjusted from being the baby to being third oldest though. He gave a huge heaving groan to match Duke’s own, flopping back against the wall.

“I know, right! And he knows we don’t know shit. He’s just enjoying watching us scramble cuz he knows we can’t just tell Danny we don’t know,” he grumbled, scrubbing both hands through his hair.

Duke hesitated.

“We… probably could just tell Danny,” he said slowly, brows furrowing. “It’s not like he doesn’t want us to know.”

Tim gave him a sidelong look.

“Yeah, after we admit we didn’t even manage to google him. Y’know, the kid who clocked Dick’s identity from his ass,” he added dryly.

Duke hesitated again, brows furrowing.

He knew that shouldn’t matter. Knew the smart move really was to ask for help sometimes. Knew damn well that it was Tim’s stubborn streak that kept him in the cave all night, while Tuck, Steph, and Cass watched movies upstairs.

Finally he let his head drop, sighing.

“The longer we wait the dumber we look if we have to ask later,” he warned Tim but his heart wasn’t in it.

It didn’t matter that Jason was probably the only member of the family with all the pieces; whoever caved and asked for help first? Yeah, social suicide.

Tim shook his head, pushing off the wall and scowling out into the rest of the garage.

“It’ll be fine. I’ll talk to Tucker about the Amity Park problem tonight and we’ll know by morning.”

Which… Duke hid a smile.

Asking Danny? Definitely cheating, worthy of scorn and derision.

Asking Tucker? Apparently completely different. Although technically he wouldn’t be asking Tucker for the same information.

Just admitting the exact same fault.

Pulling his keys from his pocket, Duke turned and wiggled them at Tim as he headed for his bike.

“Hey, if you hurry you could try to beat Danny and Jason to the manor. Get to Tucker first,” he added, grinning as Tim hit the call for the elevator.

The shorter boy rolled his eyes, waving a hand in Duke’s general direction.

“I’ll get to him once everyone’s warmed up. He wanted a look at my set up last night anyway,” he said almost off handedly.

Duke’s grin spread.

“Oh hey, that’s perfect! Just take him to your bedroom after you’ve both just been wet and naked and show each other your most private parts!” He called loudly, wondering if any of the supers were listening.

They’d find out soon.

Tim choked, blushing cherry red and spun to yell something after Duke just as the elevator doors opened. Duke waved cheerily back, turning away to head for his motorcycle.

“See you at the manor Timmy!”

**

Reconvening at Wayne Manor was… well, chaotic. Even more so than the gala the night before, though that might have been because this time, none of them had a firm plan.

Jason and Danny arrived first, greeting Alfred on the way in. The butler was not hugely impressed by the “foresight” which had led to a snowball fight when Danny was wearing an oversized sweater, sweatpants, and little else.

Any protestations that Danny was fine and was normally this cold anyway quavered under an archly raised brow and Danny privately swore never to let Clockwork meet Alfred.

They would get along far too well.

And that’s how Danny ended up actually using one of the spare bathrooms while Jason, who had worn a proper coat and thus escaped Alfred’s wrath, grabbed him a change of clothes.

The fact that this once again included one of Jason’s shirts, when Tim, Dick, Duke, and Steph all existed and also had spare clothes here, felt a little targeted.

It hung from Danny’s shoulders like a kid in his dad’s clothes, but Jason was probably also the only one with a shirt that said “Soup Powered Fuck Machine”, and the bit was fucking worth it.

Danny tied off most of the excess fabric into something just a bit longer than a crop top and settled in to drink hot chocolate with Jason and Duke and wait for the others to come back down.

(Which, by the way? Best hot chocolate he’d ever tasted. He was stealing the recipe 1000%, it was so rich and creamy and thick and had grated curls of chocolate on top of the whipped cream.)

Any lingering questions Duke might have been hiding about the shirt? Answered themselves when Tucker walked into the room, saw Danny, and laughed so hard he wound up in the fetal position.

Yeah, Jason was never getting this shirt back.

This was Danny’s shirt now. He was gonna wear it for his next fight with his rogues.

Sam actually did have her own clothes, so she’d accepted the offer of laundry while she showered (though she was a little annoyed the laundry room was so far from any of the bathrooms that she couldn’t do it herself), so she’d rejoined them in a mix of Steph and Cass’s clothes while she waited.

She had also been unable to keep a straight face upon seeing Danny’s new country girl fashion statement, rolling her eyes and punching his shoulder as she dropped to sit next to him.

“We call the thermos Soup Time,” she explained when Cass cocked her head curiously… which probably actually confused the rest of the bats a little more.

“The thermos you threw at Killer Croc?” Dick asked, still towelling his hair dry.

Sam raised a very slow eyebrow at him, her smile toning down to a smug smirk.

“Yeah, sure, I definitely threw it at Croc,” she agreed dryly and Dick cackled, throwing his towel down on Tucker’s still curled body.

Without even seeming to open the door Alfred appeared with another tray of hot chocolates, handing them out to those who hadn’t yet gotten one and taking back empty mugs.

He even had a second hot chocolate for Danny, who was going to marry the man. Even if he was old enough to be his grandpa.

Maybe Tucker did have a point about trying to get into the Wayne family for the perks… which Danny was never going to stop teasing him about, now that he and Tim were getting on so well. Boy could make his own ins, he didn’t need Danny.

Even Tucker roused himself for a mug though, crawling out from under Dick’s towel, glancing at Danny, and bursting out laughing again. Still, this time he could keep himself steady enough to stand, take the mug, and join Tim on another couch.

Alfred gave a quick glance around the room, probably counting heads, and cleared his throat.

The assorted vigilantes quieted immediately, and Danny’s respect for the old man grew just a little. It was already pretty fucking high. Not much more room to rise.

And somehow that perfectly serene, composed face managed to convey a deep sense of satisfaction.

“I am afraid we are presently waiting only on Master Bruce to begin dinner. If you would all proceed to the dining room?” It was phrased as a polite request.

The Wayne brood leapt to like it was an order. Danny pressed his lips shut on a laugh as he followed, catching Sam’s eye to see her grinning.

Up in front, Dick hurried to walk alongside Alfred.

“Oh, is Brucie not home? Or do you want me to go dig him up?” He asked brightly, and Alfred gave him a tight smile, pushing open the door to the fucking plainest most normal dining room Danny’d ever seen in a mansion.

Sure, the table was huge, but rather than being ornate, heavy, or flashy, it looked to be hard wearing oak. Clean, well polished, and not even that polish could hide the dents.

The chairs too were comfortable, nice, and a lot more tasteful than the Manson’s or Vlad’s. Well padded, well used, but not… fancy. Even the walls were simple, the elaborately framed portraits and art pieces on the wall replaced with…

What looked like kid’s drawings. Framed, cherished, and it clicked.

No chance in hell that this was the manor’s formal dining room.

The table was huge, but not that big with the number of people in the room. More than half of it was filled with just the kids, and sure there was space for the Amity Parkers, but not a larger group.

This was the family dining room. And that was fucking adorable.

Steph’d definitely walk him through every picture on the walls to help him find Jason’s. Today was going to be great.

He almost completely missed Alfred’s reply to Dick.

“I’m afraid not, master Dick. He was expected back nearly two hours ago, and yet…”

Even deep within the manor no one could have missed the sound of the front door slamming open, and anyone who did would have been alerted by the bellowing yell that followed.

“OOOOOOOH BRUCIE! I TOLD YA WHAT’D HAPPEN IF WE HAD TO HAVE THE BOUNDARY TALK AGAIN!” An extremely loud, very chipper given… well, everything voice filled the room.

The Gothamites’ heads all snapped around with expressions ranging from delight to exasperation.

“How the fuck did she get here so fast,” Duke hissed, leaning in towards Tim, but not far enough that Danny couldn’t hear, “weren’t she and Ivy in Brazil?”

Tim, definitely the exasperated one, gave a helpless shrug. Whatever he replied with was lost under Dick, bellowing back with clear glee in his voice.

“FAMILY DINING ROOM, HARLS! FIRST HALL ON YOUR LEFT!”

So, they were all going to meet Harley Quinn today. That’d be fun. Danny had always wondered what she was like in person, and apparently she was a close enough friend of the Waynes to be welcomed in.

Sam and Tucker’s faces would be fun.

Alfred’s was a perfect mask of patience that even Clockwork would envy, and he had already pulled a new place setting from a chest of drawers.

It didn’t take Harley long to find them, striding down the hall wearing some fucking unseasonal shorts, a baggy long sleeved sweater, and her trademarked blonde pigtails with the pink and blue tips.

And a bedazzled baseball bat slung casually over her shoulder, just in case anyone missed the mark.

She greeted Dick with a kiss on the cheek, then chased down as many of the others that hadn’t immediately fled to the other side of the table. Barring Damian, none of them seemed to mind.

Jason had made an attempt to flee, but no. No, that wasn’t happening, and Danny “accidentally” got in his way. Boxed him in between chair and table, grinning all the while until Harley made her way to them.

“And there he is! My poor suffering boy!” Harley cooed, cupping both of Jason’s cheeks in her hands and yanking his head down with a lot more force than a woman her size should have been capable of, pressing a large smooch on each cheek.

For all the glares he shot Danny, he managed an almost sheepish smile for the woman herself.

“I’m fine, Harley. Really. You didn’t need to come,” he protested with absolutely none of his heart in it, a pink flush rising to complement the sparkly pink lipgloss smooch marks.

“Nonsense, baby boy, if Brucie needs his head pulled from his ass I’m always here,” Harley told him firmly, patting his cheeks and rounding on Danny.

It was kinda less funny now that she was bearing down on him, all of her airhead dramatics belied by the piercing, analytical stare she pinned him with.

“Huh, did Brucie pick up a new one while we were gone? It’s been like a week, we’ll talk about his adoption issues too,” Harley declared firmly, snagging Danny by his collar and yanking him in for a cheek smooch too.

And yeah, holy shit, she really was a lot stronger than she looked. Like, almost ghostly levels of super strength.

Batman’s “no metas in Gotham” rule was looking flimsier and flimsier, cuz while she’d been a rogue in the past, this? This was not a rogue’s welcome, and Danny actually did like most of his rogues.

Just not “kisses on the cheek”, although the grabbing and pulling was familiar.

Still, better not let Vlad know. Wouldn’t do for him to feel too welcome in Gotham.

Harley released him a moment later to give him a dazzling smile.

“Hi, you’re a little older than most of Brucie’s new kids but that’s fine, I’m your Aunt Harley now and if you ever need any help with anything, especially getting Brucie’s ass in line, you just call me, okay doll?” She told him firmly.

Jason was fucking grinning at him over her head, and it just plain wasn’t fair that he was a whole head taller than them. Danny flipped him off behind her back, and gave the woman herself a sheepish smile.

“Actually, I’m not one of Bruce’s, I’m just-“

“Jason’s-boyfriend,” Steph stage coughed behind him.

Harley’s eyes widened, Danny had a go at kicking blindly behind him and hurried to correct her.

“Just Jason’s friend,” he stressed the word and suddenly those almost frighteningly piercing eyes were roaming across his face again.

It was like if Jazz had been dunked in a vat of glitter but could still see right through him. Then Harley grinned again and patted his cheek.

“Sure thing, sugar. Still, if you stick around long enough Brucie’ll make a go of it, so be careful,” she warned him cheerfully, then lunged for Steph, got her in a headlock, and smooched pink lipgloss into freshly washed hair.

Danny couldn’t help chuckling softly as Harley scanned the room, clocked a bemused Tucker and wide eyed Sam, and her eyes narrowed for a moment.

Then she nodded, apparently deciding they probably also weren’t new niece and nephew, and skipped back over to Alfred.

“So! Not that this ain’t great, but ya clearly got some company over so if ya could just point me towards the B-man I’ll borrow him right quick?” She offered with a broad grin, not actually grabbing Alfred.

Up went the respect-o-meter again. Restraining Harley Quinn was hard for seasoned heroes, her restraining herself? None of the birds could claim that apparently.

Alfred gave her the same polite smile, setting her a place at the table.

“I’m afraid Master Bruce has not yet returned from his lunch appointment, Miss Quinzel. He should be returning shortly if you would care to join us for dinner?” It almost didn’t seem like a question, given what he was doing.

Harley waved a hand easily, making a face that was almost apologetic.

“Oh, nah, I’ll just go get ‘im for ya and send ‘im back over. Maybe with some new bruises,” she added almost as an after thought, then shrugged and grinned. “So! Where’d ya last see ‘im?”

It seemed like their missing Brucie problem was about to be solved, and the rest of the Gothamites were now taking their seats around the table.

Tucker, who’d cautiously followed Tim’s retreat around the table after Harley’s chaotic entrance, was now sat between Tim and Damian, and probably regretting his life choices.

Sam, whose parents hadn’t actually specifically forbidden her from speaking to Harley, seemed to be trying to make up her mind about something. Probably going to talk to Harley directly.

Steph and Jason had considerately left two spots in between them as they sat, and Danny let himself drop into the chair next to Jason as Alfred answered.

Well. Nearly into the chair.

“Master Bruce’s lunch appointment was approximately four hours ago in a private room at Chez Vous with one of our gala’s guests, a Vlad Masters.”

Yeah. Danny missed the chair, thunking all the way to the floor with a startled squawk.

“He fucking WHAT?!” He exclaimed, yanking himself back up, staring around the table at the equally startled Waynes.

Like they hadn’t spent the first part of the gala telling these people specifically that Vlad was a fucking mind controlling sociopath who was targeting their dad. What the hell.

Alfred raised an eyebrow very slowly at him, concern now creeping into his expression.

“He went to met Mr Masters in a private room for a late lunch, Mister Fenton. I am not aware of any other plans, but-”

And Danny was probably committing a cardinal fucking sin by interrupting him but he couldn’t hold in the groan, sinking down into the actual chair this time and thunking his head off the table.

Across the table, Tucker snickered at him.

“Let me guess. You forgot Vlad was still in town?” He asked, and Danny let out another utterly heartfelt groan.

“I forgot Vlad was still in town,” he whined as Jason stifled an entirely inappropriate bout of laughter.

There was one more important piece of business though, and Steph jumped straight to it.

“Wasn’t someone supposed to warn Bruce about Masters last night, so this couldn’t happen?” She asked in a low voice, leaning into the middle of the table.

Tim made a face, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I said I would, but… I got distracted…”

By beating his brains out against Amity Park’s ghostly firewalls apparently, and Danny did feel kinda bad for completely forgetting to mention that. In his defence, he hadn’t technically known that the Batcomputer was not ghost virus proof.

Should have guessed. Hadn’t known.

Tucker, who still had no idea about the vigilante thing, was quick to reassure Tim.

“You had a medical emergency, of course you were distracted,” he said quickly, patting the younger man carefully on the shoulder and glaring at the other assembled Wayne brood, “and any of them coulda mentioned it too!”

Dick raised a hand with a half smile that was mostly apology.

“Actually… Bruce went straight to Tim’s side after the gala. Think he stayed all night, but I never actually saw him. We coulda texted though,” he added sheepishly as the rest of the family made general noises of agreement.

Except Duke, who shrugged.

“I only learned about Masters when I met you guys this morning,” he pointed out, and Danny kinda doubted that but Duke had missed the original Masters debrief so he had the best excuse.

Alfred stepped closer to the table, and for the first time his presence actually registered as something other than the polite, nigh-unnoticeable model of efficiency.

Which probably meant he’d picked up on Danny’s super subtle hints that the situation was not fucking good. Good for him.

“And precisely what information was supposed to be shared with Master Bruce?” He asked, still politely, still calmly, but there’s a hint of warning that had most of the table stiffening up.

Tucker answered, giving Alfred an apologetic smile.

“Vlad Masters is a super creep and probably using his mind control powers to try and make Mr Wayne sign over everything he owns,” he explained easily, like it was nothing.

Harley’s eyes had widened, but she didn’t seem overly worried, just shouldered her bat again.

“So it’s also gonna be a rescue mission, huh? Vladdie a local boy or are they still gonna be in the same place?” She asked, the rest of the table tensing as one.

Because yeah. Next step was extract Bruce, and kick Vlad’s ass, and probably maybe try and get any contracts Bruce had signed in four hours? Which could now be anywhere.

Sighing heavily, Danny hauled himself to his feet. Feeling like a fucking idiot aside, he probably should have already left. He was pretty sure he knew where Chez Vous was?

“No, you guys stay put, I’ll go get him,” he said as cheerily as he could, cracking his neck.

Harley’s brows drew down in a frown and she prodded him with the bat.

“No offence kid, but ya look like a stiff breeze will flip ya over. You’re not going alone,” she told him firmly, and yeah, Danny could also feel Jason damn near vibrating from beside him.

Concern-worry-protect-coming too.

Putting a hand on the big guy’s shoulder before he could rise, Danny pushed just enough to keep him in his seat. Felt the moment of shock course through the much bigger man, and his grin became just a little more genuine.

“Sorry but if any of you come along, you’ll only make it harder for me to get Bruce back safely. Vlad’ll just take you guys over and make you fight me. I really wouldn’t worry too much though, he’s never actually beaten me,” he added with a reassuring smile.

Sam snorted a laugh, dropping into the empty seat beside Steph and crossing one leg over the other. Reassuring the Gothamites with her own complete lack of moving.

“Yeah, Danny’s been cleaning his clock since he was fourteen and it’s something like 700-5. You’d think he’d give up eventually,” she added, rolling her eyes.

Cuz yeah, Vlad might have gotten the upper hand through sneaky traps a bunch of times, but in a straight fight? Danny usually won, even before he had the power of the Infinite Realms at his back.

It wasn’t that all eyes turned to Harley. It was more that suddenly a bunch of them weren’t looking at her so pointedly they might as well have.

She regarded Danny and Sam a moment longer, then shrugged and dropped into the chair at the head of the table.

“Guess I’m stayin’ for dinner, or at least til Brucie’s back. And hey, it can be hard for folks ta come to terms with things like that. ‘Specially if they’re adults takin’ offence ta gettin’ their butt kicked by kids,” she added, a bright gleam in her eye.

Sam snickered, leaning back in her chair.

“Voice of experience?” She asked innocently and Harley tipped her a wink.

“Hell nah, you ever seen a Robin fight? ‘Sides, most of the folks who’ll shit a brick at bein’ beat by a kid get just as huffy at gettin’ beat by me,” Harley explained with a broad grin, flexing her own muscles.

It was just a little hilarious to see the differing reactions from the young vigilantes around the table.

Damian was still noticeably grumpy, though he almost felt more worried to Danny’s expert empathic eye. But then, his dad was in the lion’s den.

Dick and Tim looked like they were sharing an inside joke, and Danny had to figure they were the other Robins that went against Harley the most.

Steph, Cass, and Duke all looked decidedly self satisfied. Jason…

Jason was ignoring the rest of the table, still frowning up at Danny but not fighting his grip anymore.

“I should still come with you,” he argued like the rest of the conversation hadn’t happened, his voice low and urgent. And… yeah. Protection Obsession, 1000%.

And his Fright Knight now, fuck you very much Clockwork, but he was also not even fully formed. No way Danny was taking him to fight Vlad as his first ghost.

He gave Jason’s shoulder a quick squeeze, lowering his voice under the rest of the conversation.

“You’ll know if I need you, Jay, but Vlad used to be able to control me too. He’s not a great first run,” he explained softly.

Jason very clearly didn’t like it, brows drawing in even further, and Danny made his grin a little brighter by contrast. Brushed confidence-easy fight-be back soon across his aura.

“Besides, he’s more a sneaky fuck than an actual fighter. Not worth both of us heading out,” he tried, rolling his shoulders.

Jason raised an eyebrow, entirely unimpressed.

“By that logic it should be me going instead of you,” he pointed out, and Danny pouted. Fuck him for technical accuracy.

“Look, next time, okay?” He whispered, leaning in til his mouth was next to Jason’s ear. Tim was now watching them rather than Sam and Harley’s banter.

Perceptive little shit. But he wouldn’t catch shit if Danny covered his mouth to talk. For now, he had to persuade a cranky protective halfa not to go kick Vlad’s ass.

How the turntables and so on.

“Once you’ve got your powers in you can take him every time, alright?” He whispered, then leaned back and grinned at Jason. At least he wasn’t glaring anymore.

“I’ve got this. I’ll be fine,” he said as reassuringly as he could. And then. Pausing. “Uh… but I’ll probably… y’know. Do the thing to find him.”

Vlad couldn’t hide from Danny’s expanded aura, not without leaving this dimension. But that’d mean Jason also got another dose.

The understanding dawned across the big guy’s face, fell into a complicated expression. Finally he nodded stiffly.

“Fine. But leave it up so I know how it’s going?” He grumbled back, lips barely moving. Probably as a countermeasure for Nosy Little Brother.

Danny grinned and ruffled Jason’s hair, stepping away.

“Sure thing bud. I’ll be back with Bruce as soon as I can,” he said more loudly, more to the whole room, and let his aura flare out into the city until it touched Vlad’s.

Yeah, that beat trying to navigate the city from above for the second time ever.

A sudden absolutely awful impulse hit him, and his grin stretched just a little beyond what was humanly possible.

Why the fuck not? The reveal was gonna drop soon enough, Tuck and Sam already knew how much he wanted to show.

And most of the table were watching him.

Danny rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and had a brief moment of nostalgia. Because if he was being theatrical…

“I’m going ghost,” he called as loud as he could, letting the glowing rings of his transformation wash over him, changing him to Phantom in front of a table of gawking bats.

Then he jumped into the air and flew out of the manor through the wall, Sam and Tucker’s laughter ringing in his ears.

Now he just had to hope he could reach Bruce before Vlad did anything he couldn’t easily fix.

**

Tim was the first to speak. Other than the raucous laughter of the Amity Parkers the dining room had been dead silent since Danny’s… well, it was a transformation.

Reaching out blindly with his other hand, Tim caught Duke’s arm.

“You saw that, right?” He asked, his voice a little hoarse.

Duke nodded slowly, still staring at the wall Danny had just disappeared through.

“Not that I know what the fuck it was… but yeah…”

Because… yeah. They’d known Danny was some kind of meta at this point. Guy really wasn’t trying to hide it. But that was…

“What, you ain’t seen that before?” Harley asked from the head of the table, her voice filled with a sudden glee.

Across the table Jason snickered, and Tim’s attention zeroed back in on him.

He’d known. He’d stiffened up before Danny had transformed, still hadn’t fully relaxed and Tim could guess why. Whatever he’d told Danny to “leave up”.

It didn’t look like he was in pain, more like he’d braced himself for something that hadn’t fully happened yet. But since apparently all secrets were just on the table now…

Tim turned to Tucker.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked, and Tucker sighed happily, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

“An overdramatic little fuck?” Sam offered from the other side of the table, also still grinning. Tucker wheezed loudly, slumping back in his chair.

Tim shifted his attention to Sam instead, giving up on Tucker for now. To be fair, he was kinda surprised Jason wasn’t also laughing at them.

It must have made a comical scene.

“Obviously. But that… going ghost? What did he mean?” He pressed, leaning in across the table but not lowering his voice.

Sam and Tucker exchanged thoughtful looks, Tucker’s laughter fading to giggles as they clearly weighed their answers. Then Sam leaned in too, folding her arms on the table and leaning over them.

“How much were you actually able to look up about Amity Park?” She asked, and the rest of the table leaned in to listen.

Even Harley, thoroughly devoid of context, kept quiet for a change. She could smell a good story when she heard one.

And as much as it pained him to admit…

“Nothing at all,” Tim confessed with a brief shake of his head, eyes narrowed. “I couldn’t even find the weather account you showed us.”

Beside him Tucker took another deep, fortifying breath and steadied himself in his seat.

“Yeah… warned you about that. Any tech not actually from Amity needs a baseline level of ecto before it can get through the firewalls,” he explained, and as glad as Tim was to have him back in the conversation…

“But that isn’t how firewalls work,” he protested, knowing full well the other boy knew, “Facebook doesn’t have a separate server or separate firewalls for some small town in Illinois versus the larger world, and even if it has something to do with the IP…”

Tucker raised both hands quickly and Tim subsided, a little relieved to have been cut off. The frustration from last night was building again, and he really didn’t want to deal with that right now.

“Okay, you’re definitely right almost all of the time, but Amity Park’s is… different,” Tucker explained quickly, glancing around the table and almost immediately focusing his full attention back on Tim.

Dismissing the others as below the level needed to understand the conversation, or assuming they’d keep up on their own? They all could, none of the bats were slouches on cyber security, and the distinction didn’t matter to Tim.

Yet.

They were also probably all a little below Tucker’s own technical proficiency, from everything Tim had seen (and Steph and Cass’s admitted failure to break his server encryption).

(Oracle still hadn’t broken the same server.)

Tim nodded anyway, not willing to talk and slow the explanation any further.

They could have been doing this more than twelve damn hours ago.

“Firewall isn’t exactly the right term for it either, but about five years ago… well, we decided the rest of the world couldn’t know about a lot of things that happen in Amity Park. It wouldn’t be safe,” Tucker added, watching Tim’s face carefully.

He looked almost guilty. Like he could guess how much frustration this had caused Tim. Hell, if Danny knew their identities then Tucker, his guy in the chair almost certainly did too.

And since they weren’t pretending to all be civilians anymore…

“The GIW were already censoring the hell out of us,” Tucker continued, rolling his eyes, “it was actually really annoying. They actually did the IP thing, but you could VPN around that. But we didn’t want the rest of the world, other governments to come to the same bullshit conclusions about ghosts and keep causing trouble.”

“Ghosts like Danny,” Duke cut in, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

Tucker glanced past Tim for a moment and nodded.

“Pretty much, but Danny’s a special case. Most ghosts can’t actually do the magical girl transformation,” he added with a snicker, and Sam rolled her eyes, tapping the table for attention.

“What Tucker’s dancing around telling you is that what we call the Amity Park firewall is basically alive. It has nothing to do with IP addresses or any regular tech shit because it runs on ectoplasm.”

“It’s not actually alive,” Tucker cut back in with an exasperated huff, “it’s just something I came up with with some help from Technus. He’s the spirit of technology so he can possess computers, not people, and together we made a safety net.”

“All of Amity Park is saturated in natural ectoplasm,” Sam explained, ignoring Tucker’s pointed glare, “so now whenever someone’s trying to connect online to anything based in an Amity Park server, our ecto looks for your ecto in whatever device you have. No ecto, no data.”

“It’s not that simple,” Tucker whined, like this wasn’t already a level of complexity that made Tim’s head spin.

But it was the spinning that triggered an almost ignored memory.

“Ecto… that’s what Danny nearly said last night, when he was talking about the Lazarus Pits,” he said with a sudden sharp frown, attention jumping between the Amity Parkers and onto Jason.

Who shrugged. Like this wasn’t news. How the fuck had he even met Danny in the first place?

“Show of hands, who here’s surprised that the pit waters actually come from the land of the dead?” Jason asked dryly, gaze sweeping along the table.

Tim’s attention flashed directly to Damian and then Cass, the two of them sat on a full diagonal from each other. They were the closest thing the family had to experts.

Neither looked surprised, although Damian’s eyes were narrowed. New information then, and likely something he’d be looking more into. Cass just looked thoughtful.

Harley’s hand was up though, and the table gradually turned to its gravity. She shrugged.

“Had a bet with Ives that it was super tainted kool-aid. Not that we know much about it,” she added with a shrug, and Jason snickered.

“You’re half right anyway,” he told her and the raised hand was replaced by a pair of fists pumping into the air, but silently for once.

Even Harley wasn’t gonna interrupt a lore dump.

Jason returned his attention to Tim.

“Apparently the pits are made of contaminated ectoplasm. Super tainted,” he nodded to Harley, “because the regular stuff? Doesn’t bubble, doesn’t burn, and doesn’t kill people who touch it.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed for a moment, looking Jason over, hunting any trace of a lie. He’d made himself an expert on Jason’s features, on what every micro-expression might possibly mean.

Jason was a damn good liar, but Tim knew every tell that meant he spoke the truth.

Still, he glanced from Jason to Cass, sat on Jason’s other side. The Asian girl raised an eyebrow at him, then nodded.

Human lie detector confirmed. Good to know. Even if she was rolling her eyes at him for checking.

Duke leaned in further, half his body now hovering above the table as he grinned at Jason.

“So does that mean you’ve got ectoplasm in you, if you still have the pit rage?” He asked, which didn’t really seem like something to smile about.

Although not exactly worse than the idea of Jason just still having the pit in his veins. At least Jason didn’t seem to be really bothered by it.

He just shrugged.

“I guess so?” He offered suspiciously, his face still carefully neutral as he watched Duke. Whose grin broadened.

“So does that mean if you look up stuff on Amity Park you’ll get through?” He asked innocently. Jason rolled his eyes.

“I’m not a phone, Duke,” he said dryly, and Tucker snickered.

“It’s actually kinda funny you say that, cuz Danny’s been sucked into video games before,” Tucker said innocently, giving Jason a sidelong look.

Which… raised a couple of questions, since Jason didn’t seem embarrassed by it. Tim’s eyes narrowed for a moment.

“Is that something that could happen to Jason?” He asked cautiously, and for some reason Tucker actually laughed.

“Oh, it’s something that could happen to anyone,” he said sounding very smug, and Tim tore his attention off Jason to stare at Tucker, wondering what the hell he was thinking.

Tucker just grinned back and Tim’s best guess… well, it couldn’t have been a bad experience. It had definitely afforded him the full attention of everyone at the table.

Harley stuck a hand in the air again.

“Okay, I know I ain’t one o’ the kids, but I’m gonna need to know a whole lot more about that,” she declared, and Tucker laughed, shaking his head.

“Another time? I gotta get back to get ready for school early tomorrow at the latest but if you wanted to hang out again…” he trailed off hopefully, his attention slipping from Harley back to Tim.

Tim was not going to blush. This was a chance to gather more intel in future. And just hang out with a friend! There was nothing more to it than that.

He chuckled softly and nodded, settling back into his seat.

“Yeah, I think it’s safe to say we’ll see each other again,” he agreed, and definitely didn’t enjoy the way Tucker beamed at him.

Given their reactions, he probably did some kind of tech support while Danny… Danny was probably the ghost who’d protected Amity Park.

Had they always known who Jason and his family were? Tim knew he should reserve judgement until he could find an unbiased source and work out what had actually happened in Amity Park, but…

Well, it wasn’t like the Amity Parkers were hostile. There was always the chance it could be a long con, but Tim didn’t think so. They’d given too much away.

For now, it seemed safest to assume that they were fellow vigilantes, and were at least as aware of their identities as Danny. Tucker might even have been the one to work it out.

And if Tucker could solve their technical problems and give them open access to Amity Park, Tim could take that and confirm his theories.

If they had something to hide, Tim should be able to work out at least where to look based on what Tucker gave him.

“We’ve gotta wait for Danny to get back for him to infuse your tech, buuuut I can get you started on the data download if you can hook me into your set up,” Tucker said with an almost seductive smile.

Or maybe Tim thought it was seductive because it came with an offer of increased tech. And sure, he wasn’t hooking a stranger straight up to the Batcomputer, but…

Well, that’s what the fully isolated laptops were for. And Tim could bring one of those up from the cave, but… well, the Amity Parkers showed trust first. And they really had less reason to.

They’d been abandoned by the Justice League, and apparently personally picking up that slack. The least Tim wanted to do was promise them that it hadn’t been malicious; they really hadn’t known.

And to promise that he personally was going to find out how this had happened, and make sure it wouldn’t happen again. Last night wasn’t going to be in vain.

He’d ask the others about it, but as things stood right now, Tim would really like to see Tucker get a proper look at the Bat Cave.

**

Vlad was a little surprised to find he’d been having an absolutely charming afternoon with one Brucie Wayne.

He hadn’t expected to actually like the man, but one on one he had a kind of self effacing charm that Vlad rather appreciated. Far more tolerable than most of the arrogant rich bastards he had to deal with.

He had been so very interested in the running of Amity Park too, in the challenges of being a mayor and a business owner, and so few people really appreciated the struggle.

Of course, Vlad wasn’t going to out any of Daniel’s little secrets. It wouldn’t do to upset the boy more while he was trying to mend fences.

Even if he had left Vlad to the mercy of some hapless buffoons and the criminals they were chasing the night before.

So he kept it light, to issues like road maintenance, funding local fixtures like the library and the schools, things he thought Brucie had a chance of understanding.

Brucie had also noticed that their boys were becoming… close.

Well, it would be almost impossible for him not to have. And it was only natural that Brucie wanted to know more about the boy getting close to his son.

It was almost a little strange how easy it was to speak well of Daniel. For so long Vlad had been fixated on his inadequacies, on all the things he could fix if Daniel would just accept his help.

On wanting to mould Daniel into someone like himself. He hadn’t really considered that Daniel… might not want to be like him.

Vlad was rich, successful, on top of the world by every modern marker, but he was also alone. He had no one and nothing that he would call his own, that he could leave his fortune to.

Of course, as a half ghost it wasn’t like he was actually going to die, but not having a successor was part of what tugged at his core.

And Daniel… Daniel was much better at bringing people close than Vlad. He had dear friends, and easily found himself with new ones. Daniel was likeable, and Vlad had to admit that he himself… wasn’t.

People cozied up and tried to bribe Vlad, but perhaps it was the very things he’d seen as weaknesses in Daniel that made them actually like the boy.

So he focused on those instead, the qualities that had always baffled and confused him. The loyalty, the trust, everything he’d once tried to use to tear Daniel down.

And utterly failed at every turn. After so many years, yes, Vlad had detected the pattern. It was just so hard to keep from falling into it.

So when he felt Daniel’s aura wash out and across him, wary but amused on top of the aggression, he startled just a little. Made sure to obviously check his phone, and gasped when he saw the time.

It was obvious what must have happened.

“Oh my, Brucie, did you have another appointment today?” He asked in only mildly faked surprise, concealing his amusement expertly. “Dear Daniel has just contacted me, it seems you’ve been missed.”

Daniel likely thought Vlad was up to the kind of nefarious schemes that he… well, had come to Gotham to commit, in all honesty. But obviously those plans had changed with his little badger’s personal interest.

Perhaps he should have told Daniel that? Ah well, the boy would learn soon enough. He settled back in his seat, letting his aura broadcast his intent.

Calm-welcome-nothing to hide.

Felt Daniel’s disbelief, but that was fine. It was the truth.

Brucie visibly startled as well, taking his own phone out to check the time. Probably wondering why his own brood weren’t contacting him if he’d been missed so much.

“Oh… yes, I’m terribly sorry, I think Danny must have been invited to our family dinner, which I’m late to,” Brucie added with that lovely self effacing smile, shrugging. “I must have put my phone on vibrate. I’ll just tell them to start without me.”

Or his children didn’t expect him to check it, apparently with reason.

Vlad clapped his hands together and rubbed them a few times.

“Well, no matter. I do believe Danny is on his way to retrieve you, so we’d best wait where we are. I will pick up the bill, of course.”

They’d had the private room in the restaurant for around four hours now, which wouldn’t come cheap, but Vlad could be generous. Especially if Daniel expected him not to be.

Brucie made the usual noises of gratitude and appreciation, and mild confusion. Well, that would be answered by whether or not Daniel bothered to transform back before bursting in.

Either way, it wouldn’t be Vlad’s choice to reveal his little secret.

“I have my car with me, but if Danny’s on his way here…” Brucie trailed off, glancing to the window with a perplexed frown on that handsome face.

Whoever dealt with the man’s wrinkles for the cameras would be very upset, but Vlad got the feeling Brucie could afford the best. He had such an expressive face, and yet nothing was ever out of place.

Almost as good as ectoplasm for keeping one young.

He was probably wondering why Daniel was coming instead of one of his own children, and while Vlad could come up with an excuse about needing to see the boy anyway… well, he was bursting in on a very pleasant afternoon.

Vlad wanted to mend fences, not solve all the boy’s self inflicted problems.

Still, he gave Brucie a smile, touching the pad that would summon them a server again.

“Oh, you and Daniel can take the car I’m sure. He’ll just be here to make sure I’m behaving myself,” he added with a wry chuckle, settling back in his seat.

Something very much like alertness flicked across Brucie’s face, and Vlad could feel a flicker of suspicion for the first time from the other man.

Well, Vlad had baited him.

He certainly wasn’t as empathetic as Daniel, but he liked to keep an eye on his company, and this was the first trace of something more that he’d gotten from the man.

He waved a hand cheerfully, chuckling. The man likely had links to his city’s precious Bat and all his opinions on those more than just human. Best allay those concerns even if he was leaving.

“I have been known to talk peoples’ ears off if I get onto a subject like football, and four hours is surely long enough for him to suspect I’ve roped you into watching a game. Though if you did want to attend…” he let himself trail off, watched the man’s shoulders settle as he laughed.

“Oh, I’m not much of a sports fan myself, but I try to keep up with the Gotham teams when I can.”

The female teams at least, according to the tabloids, but Vlad wouldn’t judge. Much.

Brucie gave him that charming smile again, settling as well as the server came in and once again refilled their drinks.

“I didn’t realise Amity Park had their own teams in a league, though,” Brucie added with that softly furrowed brow. Like thought was such a strain for the man.

Vlad gave the server a quick smile and inclined his head.

“I will take the bill now, I believe we’re ready to go. And we don’t have our own teams in any of the major leagues,” he explained indulgently to Brucie, lips quirking up at the very thought.

Imagine trying to play a home game in Amity Park. It was hard enough getting the school teams out to their rivals.

And it gave him a chance to talk about his secondary Obsession.

“No, I have ownership of the Green Bay Packers, back home in Wisconsin. I really must warn you to stop there if you don’t want their full stats for the last four seasons or worse,” Vlad teased with a soft chuckle, taking a sip of his water.

Both of Brucie’s eyebrows rose and the man smiled back, settling into his seat.

“Well, Danny will be here soon to cut you off anyway,” he commented, that charming smile looking far too comfortable on him.

And he did have a point. Giving him a nod of acknowledgement, Vlad relaxed and let the gentle sea of Obsession take him, enthusiasm ramping up with every word he spoke.

It was nice to have permission for a change.

**

Despite his cheerful words, Danny couldn’t help but tense as he flew across the city. He’d make it within minutes, way faster than anyone trying to actually use Gotham’s streets, but…

Vlad had had Bruce for hours already. Danny was gonna hope that whatever he was doing, it was just more of his shady businessman bullshit.

He really, really, really didn’t want to fight overshadowed Batman.

Of course, remembering the looks on the flying furry brigade’s faces gave him a definite boost in mood. He didn’t actually wanna show up at Vlad’s giggling, buuut that was a problem for future Danny.

Present Danny was busy specifically not worrying so that he didn’t worry Jason into coming after him. Maybe telling the guy about Vlad’s lightning juice hadn’t been a great idea?

Of course, the good thing about the expanded aura was that he could still feel Jason’s like they were right next to each other.

And who’d have thought Jason was also a fucking mother hen? Poor guy was still tense, although at least Danny could still feel just a little amusement.

Yeah, Jason was getting to enjoy the full fruits of Danny’s theatrics. It wasn’t fair, but it made the whole thing better. Gave him something to keep his mind off Danny.

As if on cue, a strong spike of incredulous-funny-what the fuck came from his favourite non-clone halfa.

Danny was nearly at the restaurant now, and paused just above to send a questioning pulse back. Felt Jason startle, and could almost see him roll his eyes.

Later-come back-done?

The fuck were they talking about? Maybe the bats were right to always have their own little comms in. Danny sent a reassuring wave back.

Soon-anticipation-just arrived-curious.

And yes, Danny did expect the caution-stay safe-coming after you that he got back, but he wasn’t sure Jason would get the full effect of him actually rolling his eyes.

One last check for Vlad’s aura and Danny turned invisible, phasing through the roof and walls to have a look around.

Vlad was alone in a private room, with nothing but some glasses of water and a mostly empty bottle of wine. Alright, food was probably over a while ago, but the water might be a good sign.

Vlad wasn’t known to take care of the people he overshadowed.

Danny did a quick search of the rest of the building, stopping just shy of accidentally sticking his head through a bathroom wall when he felt a familiar presence.

Yup, Bruce was in the bathroom. Probably not overshadowed, which might just mean that Vlad was finished with him.

Not taking the risk, Danny made his way stealthily back to the private room, popping into visibility behind Vlad’s seat.

At least his aura being everywhere made it hard for Vlad to get a fix.

“What, did I not pay you enough attention last night, Vladdie?” He complained, draping an arm across the back of the man’s chair and noting the way he stiffened.

Also, these chairs? Much more pretentious. All carved and ornamental and bleh. Nowhere near as good as the ones at Wayne Manor.

Vlad didn’t actually turn to face him, reaching out and picking up his water glass instead. Filling his hands, so it’d be harder for him to take a shot at Danny?

Or just Vlad being Vlad and dismissing him.

Vlad took a long, slow sip before replying.

“While I would have preferred more of a chance to speak with you, Daniel, my presence here is solely to your benefit I assure you,” he said cool as a cucumber.

Danny narrowed his eyes, giving another poke of his aura. It didn’t feel like a lie.

“How so? Gonna rob Brucie blind and give it to the poor? I guess green also works for Robin Hood,” Danny mused, fingers drumming on the back of the chair.

Vlad actually looked at him then, a sharp sidelong glance before the man relaxed again, chuckling softly.

“Nothing of the sort. But if you and young Jason are going to be closely… connected, I will be seeing much more of Brucie, and I thought perhaps I could help lighten the�� impression you left.”

Wait.

Was Vlad blushing?

Danny peered forward for a better look, utterly at a loss for what connection Vlad might be talking about. Cuz yeah, he and Jason were friends, but…

Oh.

Oh!

Vlad bought the closet scene.

Somehow that outcome had never even occurred to Danny and he felt himself flush, cheeks going green. Fuck, the goal had been to cause a scene, but Vlad actually thought…

Wait.

“So you’ve been here trying to convince Bruce I’m not an evil harlot corrupting his boy?” Danny asked, barely concealed glee rising with every word.

Because if this was funny, if this was fucking hilarious, he didn’t have to be embarrassed by it. Vlad didn’t need to know shit about his actual sex life, but if he’d actually called Bruce to try and polish up Danny’s new slutty reputation…

Vlad cleared his throat pointedly, still not looking directly at him.

“And luckily for you, he is somewhat willing to believe you have some good traits,” he said archly, and that fucking floored Danny.

“YOU think I have good traits?” He asked incredulously, cutting off whatever Vlad was about to say.

The man even took it pretty well, just one of those loud sighs like Danny was a particularly tiresome child, not a full grown adult man.

“I understand where you might have got the impression I don’t, Daniel, but if I thought you had none would I have pursued you so harshly?” He asked, finally turning in his chair to face Danny frankly.

Which meant he got both barrels of the sceptical face Danny was making.

“Dude, you say that like Obsessions are fucking logical,” Danny said dryly, and Vlad actually chuckled.

Not even condescendingly.

Like Danny made a point.

“Quite. Unfortunately for myself, the effects of my Obsession went into how I planned to achieve it, not in the goal itself. You have always been a remarkable young man, Daniel.”

And that was at least familiar ground.

Danny rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, and I’d be even more if I let you lure me off to your creepy castle in Wisconsin to become mini-Vlad. Brucie can’t ship me to Wisconsin,” he pointed out, just about resisting the urge to poke Vlad in the chest.

The old guy was being weirdly noncombative, but it had been a while since they saw each other. Actual years, which Danny couldn’t imagine would have been good for the other halfa.

Much as it sucked being someone else’s Obsession and he’d loved being free of the Fruitloop… he wouldn’t wish the ache of an unfulfilled Obsession on anyone.

Fuck did that mean Vlad had actually moved on? Was that something he could do? Please let it be something he could do.

The older halfa chuckled again and took another sip of his water.

“No, I’m well aware that he can’t. But our time apart gave me little to do but consider what I know of you. You have grown to a fine young man, Daniel, perhaps with all that I have ever lacked.”

He looked up again, their eyes meeting, and Danny very nearly recoiled. Almost stepped back and away from the other halfa’s aura so that he couldn’t feel Vlad’s pride seeping into his skin like grease.

“Okay, this is getting fucking weird. Do I have to kick your ass to get whatever contracts you made Bruce sign back?” He asked sharply, trying to get the conversation back to somewhere he understood it.

Vlad hesitated a moment, then settled back again, clearly reading Danny’s discomfort in his aura if not on his face because the pride settled away.

Back in Wayne Manor, Danny felt Jason keying up, the slow growing happiness cutting straight back to danger-warning-protect-need help?.

Danny forced himself to calm too, closing his eyes for a moment to focus on the feel of Jason, not Vlad.

He just.

He didn’t know what to do with Vlad being proud of him. That had only ever meant he’d fucked up somewhere horrible before.

Calm-safe-I’m safe-not hurt.

“Still in contact with young Jason?” Vlad asked, letting the subject change even if he didn’t answer Danny’s question.

Danny cracked an eye open to peer at him.

“Yeah, he wasn’t a fan of me coming to see you on my own. Not to pick up his dad,” he added before Vlad could get the wrong idea.

Actually. It was still kinda funnier if Vlad kept the wrong idea.

From what Danny could read of him, no worries about that. Vlad was amused, but not comfortable.

Yeah, well, he could join the club. Danny gave his shoulder a gentle poke.

“Anyway. What did you really want Bruce for?”

Vlad glanced at his watch, then at the door.

“Well he’ll be back any second to tell you himself, Daniel. I wasn’t sure if you’d shared this little secret yet so I didn’t mention any of our shared nature, but he was the one to invite me out.”

Which also felt like the truth. Both parts. Danny hesitated for a moment, not quite sure if he was ready for this particular secret to be out to the Batman.

It’d be out the second the man got home if no one had texted him yet, but that was a long car ride away unless Danny flew back, and he didn’t want to leave Bruce unsupervised again.

Just because Vlad was being weird didn’t mean he wasn’t being Vlad.

Still, he’d know if Bruce was overshadowed right away, and if he wasn’t he could ask the man himself what Vlad had been up to.

And Vlad was in human form. Not like he could transform any faster than Danny if shit was about to go down.

The decision pretty much took itself out of his hands when the door began to open and Danny jumped back out of grabbing reach (just in case) and changed back.

Which was when he remembered what he was wearing.

**

Lunch with Vlad Masters had been… informative, and Bruce was a little surprised just how much time had passed.

Masters might be an unscrupulous businessman but he was clearly devoted to the things he cared for; Daniel Fenton, Amity Park, and the Green Bay Packers.

He just couldn’t quite reconcile how those three pieces fit into the picture at hand. To hear Vlad tell it, nothing untoward had happened in Amity Park in his whole time as mayor. And yet… the calls were real.

Even if Masters hadn’t hit the button personally, someone in his office must have.

Was there a chance that Danny had some sort of mind control abilities? That he’d removed the memories of those in Amity Park who’d opposed him?

It would explain why Masters would so fervently champion a boy he’d had almost nothing to do with. Oh, Danny Fenton had been born to two of Masters’ college friends, but they hadn’t seen each other for years before Danny’s birth.

As far as Bruce could tell the two had never even met before Danny was at least fourteen; Vlad had lived in an actual castle in Wisconsin and been a regular on the gala circuit for his area.

Friend of the family or not, it was suspicious that the only adults he’d spoken to so far had such diametrically opposed views on Danny.

Vlad was obviously hiding something. About Amity Park, Bruce was completely certain. The man’s accounts simply did not add up with the evidence. About Danny…

Bruce had his suspicions, but there was very little clear evidence about the man himself. Danny was technically an unknown quantity. And the center of far too many mysteries for Bruce’s peace of mind.

Bruce slipped away to the bathroom to let his thoughts settle not too long into Vlad’s lecture on the history of the Packers.

If Danny was coming from the manor they had a while yet before he’d be there, so he could let Vlad ramble on for a while once he returned.

His cheeks hurt from keeping up Brucie’s smile, but that was nothing new. The gala last night was still weighing on him, but it made it easier to put the act back on.

If Danny was coming here, and would accompany Bruce back to the manor, they would have a while to talk in the traffic. Finally a chance to speak to the man himself and let Bruce get an unbiased read.

Something had happened before Vlad claimed to have received a message from Danny. Something that made him start, and while it could have been the man’s phone, Bruce doubted it.

Even silent vibrations actually made some sound, and Vlad had barely glanced at the device. Not long enough to read any kind of complicated message; he hadn’t even unlocked it.

Vlad must have thought he was hiding it, but he’d been amused by whatever happened. Amused, and known immediately it was Danny. That Danny was coming.

Whatever else he might be, Vlad was certainly not a particularly skilled liar. Not to Batman.

Washing his hands, Bruce wondered if he might not be able to get Vlad back onto the subject of how Danny would be coming.

On his own, or at least Vlad hadn’t mentioned anyone else. And using Bruce’s car to get back? There were hardly bus routes between the manor and the city.

Unless Danny had some kind of meta abilities. Damian’s report had included his suspicions, and Duke and Dick had both seen him fly away.

That would put him here sooner than expected, but Bruce was certain he’d have noticed a flying meta in his city. Unless Danny only flew for certain situations.

Bruce paused at the door to their private room for half a second, letting his Brucie mask settle comfortably into place. Letting the smile spread. And pushed the door open.

Something bright flashed inside and Bruce tensed, anticipating a trap. One he would have no choice but to fall into, as he was now. But as the door cleared, he saw…

Vlad at the table, just as Bruce had left him. And Danny Fenton settling like he’d just moved sharply, wide blue eyes and messy hair above a shirt that was far too large for him tied off at his waist, and.

And.

Impractical for the weather. The trousers were closer to the right size, but arms and feet were bare, along with a slice of midriff.

Completely dry. It was still snowing, and the streets were covered in snow and slush. There was a slim chance he’d left a coat somewhere, but even his hair was dry.

Windswept and dishevelled hair, suggesting flight. His boys were right, and Bruce made a note to check in with Oracle later. See if he had been detected in the air.

Startled by his presence. Likely not because he didn’t expect Bruce to be there, not if he’d come expressly to pick him up. More that he’d been distracted by whatever had him moving so sharply.

Staring at him.

And then there was nothing else to observe, except…

Wearing one of Jason’s shirts. One that Dick had given him as a joke. It hung off him, exacerbating their size difference.

Danny was small. Closer to Cass’s size, and this close up Bruce could see the lean muscle, but there wasn’t much of it.

In pure hand to hand Bruce could probably take him, but whatever abilities let him tank a fight with Killer Croc left the actual outcome an unknown.

Blinking hard to distract himself from just how and why Danny had managed to show up in Jason’s clothes, he pulled on his big happy Brucie smile for the room.

And suddenly Vlad was incensed.

Bruce would swear the man had been smiling when he opened the door, but at some point while Bruce gave Danny a quick once over his mood had turned to rage.

He smothered it down quickly, but his jaw was still tight when he spoke through gritted teeth.

“Daniel, I believe this is the first time you have met Brucie,” Vlad said, his tone so frosty Bruce nearly shivered.

Not controlled by Danny then. At least, not controlled in a way that made him deferential. Not unless this was a slip in Danny’s control.

The boy looked startled still, looking down at himself like he’d forgotten what he was wearing and giving Bruce a sheepish smile.

Honestly he could have been wearing the world’s finest suit and not allayed any of Bruce’s suspicions, but it wasn’t Brucie’s job to let that show.

Instead he cranked the smile up a couple more notches, stepping forward and holding out a hand to shake.

“Yes, Danny, my kids simply won’t stop talking about you! I was sorry I couldn’t say hello last night,” he added, wanting to see how Danny would react to a little dig.

Nothing he couldn’t deny as being purely sincere.

Danny made a face and then pulled a smile on over it, stepping forward quickly to shake Bruce’s hand.

Some people only needed touch to take control of another. Bruce felt nothing of the sort, but Danny’s hand was oddly cool. Not unaffected by his clothing then.

“Yeah… sorry about that. About… well, all of it,” Danny said with a sheepish smile and one shoulder shrug that nearly had the shirt’s overlarge neckline fall off his other shoulder.

He scrabbled to right it, and Bruce firmly stifled the impulse to relax.

It was familiar, something any of his kids might have done. It could easily be an act to lure him into a false calm.

Brucie laughed and clapped him on the other shoulder, keeping half an eye on Vlad, who was still stewing at the table.

“Oh, I certainly got up to much worse in my day. You’re only young once, right?” He offered jovially, tipping Danny a playboy wink.

The boy blushed to the roots of his hair.

Interesting.

As much as Bruce wanted to pull at Vlad a little more, try and work out his sudden change of mood, he would much rather begin his observations of Danny Fenton directly.

“Still, we should get going or we’ll miss all of dinner,” he said with a cheerful smile, nodding to Vlad. “Thanks for a lovely afternoon, Vlad! Maybe we’ll catch a football game before the season ends.”

The man’s disposition brightened like he’d flicked a switch, though he still shot Danny an almost smug dirty look.

“Oh, that would be charming, Brucie. I’ll get you tickets for the Packers’ next game, we’ll have a splendid time.”

Danny snickered beside him, shoving his hands in his pockets and grinning back. Not afraid of Vlad either, for all that the other man was older, richer, and more influential.

“Yeah, Vladdie here knows aaaall about packers,” he said with a sly smirk, looking down on Vlad from his standing position.

Vlad responded with a look that Bruce had previously only seen on Clark’s face, around when Dick started teaching Kon sex jokes. And in the mirror.

Steph called it the “your puberty was my death sentence” look and insisted every one of the mentors used it. Bruce personally wasn’t convinced Oliver Queen knew what shame meant.

He’d abandoned his son. Bruce would never forgive that until Roy asked him to.

Perhaps he did have more in common with Vlad than he’d thought though. Watching the children get old enough for innuendo sucked.

Luckily Brucie could pretend not to get it.

“I know, he was telling me all about their recent games before you arrived,” he said cheerfully, oblivious as anything. And watched how both responded to innocence.

Vlad still looked pained, possibly by the pair of them now. Danny… Danny was smirking, clearly not convinced.

That was concerning. The boy knew who Nightwing and Signal were, there was a chance he knew Bruce’s identity too and this at least pointed in the same direction.

Still, no need to confirm anything for him. With another cheery wave to Vlad he held the door open for Danny.

“So, shall we? Would you like to take my car or do you have your own way back?” He asked, subtly prodding to see what Danny might say. And perhaps a hint how he’d gotten there.

Danny hesitated for a moment, glancing at Vlad. Like there was something between them, something to do with him.

Yes, Bruce would have to meet with Vlad Masters again in future. After he’d gotten to speak to Danny.

“I’ll come back with you,” Danny said with a shrug, nodding towards the door and then moving through it at Bruce’s wave.

He kept half an eye on the boy as they headed down to the restaurant’s garage and the sleek black car Bruce had driven over.

It’d be at least twenty minutes to drive back to the manor at this hour, maybe longer. Time enough for a short interrogation.

“I already messaged the others and told them to get started without us, I hope you don’t mind,” he said in his best charming Brucie voice, beeping the car to unlock it.

Danny shrugged, moving around to the passenger door, apparently entirely unbothered by bare feet on freezing concrete. Bruce almost wished he had some spare shoes for him.

“Yeah, it’s cool. I figured. So, any idea how long it’ll be to get back?” He asked, slipping into the car and sitting cross legged on the front seat.

Bruce followed suit, turning on the car and then the heat right away. Doing what he could.

“Probably not more than twenty minutes. Your seat is heated too by the way, here. You made it down very quickly, were you in the area?” Bruce asked, watching Danny from the corner of his eye as he strapped in.

Would Danny just tell him?

He’d not been hiding from the boys. If he really didn’t think this had to be a secret, he could just tell Bruce.

Danny shrugged again, opened his mouth, and Bruce’s phone rang, cutting him off.

His phone should be on silent. Bruce gave Danny an apologetic smile, pulling it out and planning to push the caller to voice mail. Wondering if he might have turned the ringer back on without meaning to. Or if Oracle had pushed through.

There was no one else he needed to talk to more than Danny right now.

Of course the universe would mock him for that thought.

The caller ID blinked accusingly up at him from the lock screen.

John fucking Constantine.

Bruce hesitated for a moment. Torn. The mystery or the responsibility?

Any other member of the Justice League would be ranked as a more reliable source of information than a possible suspect, but after the night Bruce had had? After what he’d learned?

The problems in Amity Park may have begun or ended with Danny Fenton, but the problems in the Justice League traced neatly back to John Constantine.

When it came down to it, Bruce knew he had a responsibility.

He gave Danny another, more apologetic smile.

“So sorry… do you mind if I take this quickly?” He asked, holding the phone carefully so Danny couldn’t see the screen.

The boy’s face cracked into a grin and he shrugged a third time, getting comfy in the expensive leather seat.

“Hey, if you keep one eye on the road you’ll be the safest driver I’ve ever ridden with. You don’t wanna be too late though, you’ve got another extra guest for dinner and she seemed real impatient,” he said with a slight smile, turning on his heated seat.

About to get out of the car, Bruce paused again.

“Oh? Who was that?” He asked half rhetorically, already listing the women in his life who could possibly make this situation worse.

Top of the list…

“Harley Quinn.”

Of course.

What did she want now?

Bruce forced himself not to think about it, swinging up and out of the car and holding the phone to his ear.

One disaster at a time. No matter how many the universe was piling in his lap after nearly a month of nothing. He’d known it was too good to be true.

At least the garage was empty, and the car soundproofed. Danny wouldn’t hear a thing.

“Constantine. How did you get this number?”

**

In a secluded corner of the House of Mystery everyone’s favourite magical scapegoat stubbed out a cigarette and reclined back in his seat.

“Oh, is this not fun when people do it to you? And here’s me thinkin’ barging into other peoples’ business was how you lot showed affection,” he said dryly, fingers tapping off the glowing purple ward scrawled on the phone case.

Phone numbers were for plebs.

He could fuckin’ hear Bats grinding his teeth through the phone. And yeah, maybe winding him up further wasn’t the best idea, but fuck it.

If John had good ideas, he’d never have given the fucking Justice League his contact info. Case in point.

Winding up the big Bat was the price they all had to pay for royally pissing him off all fuckin’ night and all fuckin’ day.

Kept an impressive handle on the growl though. Must have been somewhere semi-private.

“Constantine. You’ve been out of touch for more than eighteen hours and there is a serious-”

John cut him off, waving his cigarette around as if he could shush the man from here.

“Oh no no, big boy, you’re not fuckin’ blaming that on me. You’re the one fucking up all my communicators, and you’re going to fuckin’ stop. Now.”

And yeah, maybe he did enjoy the very tiniest inhale of surprise he could hear. Or was that Batsy counting to ten?

“What do you mean.” The trademarked growl was definitely creeping in, private place or not. Well, good. John being too annoying to kill was what kept him alive.

Better spell it out for the fucker though.

“I’m a fuckin’ magician, Batlad. On a couple of Hell’s most fuckin’ wanted lists. I can’t be fuckin’ found by people fuckin’ wishing me fuckin’ harm, and let me tell you how goddamn delighted I am to learn that that now includes you!”

All he’d wanted to do today was drop off some results for the junior spandex brigade about some of the glyphs and wards they’d found at a dig.

Just trying to stop them from blowing their fucking hands off. A humanitarian mission. John fuckin’ hated kids. Handless kids only slightly worse.

And he couldn’t contact a single member of the fuckin’ Justice League because some asshole was trying to use them to hunt him down.

Zatanna had needed to come to the House personally to circumvent the wards she’d helped him build.

(Good to know how well they worked though. Assuming they were working and he’d done something to piss off the big Bat enough that he was out for blood.

There was technically a chance they’d been calibrated wrong and Batsy wanted to bring him ham. Less likely than harm, in John’s humble opinion.)

Still, the only way to unfuck his communications was to find and defuse whatever had pissed the skulky bitch off, and while Zatanna had agreed to drop off his work for the kids, he needed to know what else they’d found.

He so was not going to fucking Alaska in January.

And with that as his alternative, John forced his most chipper smile onto his lips. Apparently people could sense that through phones. Who fuckin’ knew.

“So. You’ve fuckin’ got me. What the hell do you want?”

—————

Tag list: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @eonic @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear

Next Chapter:

[angelpuns]

The Igloo - TMNT Minific

( Herr's my fic from the @turtlestogetherzine !! I kept forgetting to post it ;-; )

It had taken him nearly all morning, but his masterpiece was finally complete!

Donnie stepped back to admire his creation - a real-life igloo! 

He turned, hearing a couple of shouts behind him. Just as he predicted, Leo had dragged Raph into a snowball fight - which meant Donnie was gonna get cold snow shoved into his jacket at some point. Not this time, though! 

He wasted no time crawling inside. 

He'd been planning this for months - he'd done a ton of research in igloos and how they worked.

If he remembered correctly, the super packed snow would help keep him warm. At least, a little warmer than it was outside. 

Donnie dragged the tools he'd brought in behind him, setting them in a corner of the igloo. He could at least make it a bit more homely in here, since he was gonna be stuck til their snowball fight finished.

He spent the next few minutes working on the inside - drawing out diagrams in the snow walls and imagining it was actually an elaborate laboratory. He'd been wanting to start one for a while, but Papa was not being reasonable. He could be safe with a propane torch! 

Donnie only stopped when someone poked their head in the igloo - his plastic shovel held up in defense. 

"Whatcha doin' in here, Dee?" It was just April, but Donnie found her coy smile a little too untrustworthy.  

"I decided to make a fortress. I've been researching igloos for months now and decided this was the best way to prevent getting roped into yet another snowball fight," He explained, still holding up the shovel, "it's my safe-haven."  

"Mind if I join ya? It's a bloodbath out there." She sounded friendly enough, but Donnie could see from here that she had her hand behind her back - likely a planned ambush. 

"Sorry, April, but I cannot let anyone in without a security check."

April scoffed, poking her head even further into the entrance, "Let me in or I'm telling Splints about your little scrap yard escapade last month.” 

Donnie grimaced at that, quickly compiling a pros and cons list of why he should agree. 

No matter which way he put it, letting April in was his best choice. 

Donnie sighed, setting the shovel aside and gesturing inside. 

"Fine. But don't you dare bring any snowballs in here, " He muttered, pulling his arms in close and zipping his jacket further up his neck, "I worked hard to keep the heat in!" 

April shrugged, a snowball plopping onto the ground next to her. As always, he was right. 

April crawled into the igloo, eyes widening when she saw how big it was inside. It could fit all of them if he really wanted (he most certainly did not).  

"Wow, Donnie! This is amazing. You built this by yourself?" April sat cross-legged across from him, admiring the dome, "What's with the drawings?"

Donnie flushed a little, shrugging, "I was pretending it was a lab…but yes, I did build it myself. Did you know that the tighter the snow is packed the more heat it keeps in? And, the reason it doesn't melt is cause-" 

"WOAH! Donnie, did you build a house!?" 

Donnie frowned when he was interrupted, turning to aim a glare at Mikey. His younger brother had poked his head in the entrance, but was craning to see farther inside. 

"Actually, Michael, it's called an igloo-"

"COOL! Can I please please pleeeeaaaase come in?" Mikey poked his head a little further in, "I'll be the goodest hou-igloo  guest ever!"

"First of all, goodest is not a word. Second, no you may not. I only have so much room in here," Donnie scoffed. He was stretching the truth a bit, but what did Mikey know? He was only six!

"But…but I said I'd be the goodest- the bestest house guest ever…" Mikey murmured, his expression quickly falling into the sad puppy dog eyes. 

Donnie hesitated, before quickly shaking his head, "Sorry, I can't bend the rules for you, Mikey."

April gave him a look, but that wasn't what made him change his mind. Sniffles came from the entrance of the igloo, Donnie regrettably glancing over. Mikey was fully sobbing, huge crocodile tears slipping down his cheeks. 

"Oh- don't… Sigh. Don't cry, please don't cry, Angelo…" Donnie attempted to soothe him, crawling over to the entrance and beckoning his youngest brother a bit closer, "I���guess we have room for one more. Just please don't cry." 

Somehow Mikey's tears always ended up getting to him. He felt so…icky making him cry. 

Mikey brightened up at that, crawling inside and practically tackling Donnie into a hug. 

"There…there. I let you in so now you can't cry," He murmured, giving Mikey a couple of pats on his beanie-covered head. 

Mikey rubbed his face a couple times on Donnie's coat, no doubt leaving a trail of slime and who knows what else. Eugh. He really wished he'd thought to bring tissues. 

"Thank you, Dee. You're the be-bestest." Mikey murmured, happily squeezing Donnie once more before thankfully moving away. He wiped his face and sat cross-legged next to April, watching Donnie expectedly. 

"Soooooo, what now?"

"Well I didn't exactly plan for visitors. I suppose I could finish explaining the thermal capabilities of the igloo itself, but-" 

"You guys havin' a party in here or somethin'?"

Donnie groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face and dead panning towards the entrance. 

"No, Raph. I've simply been a weak turtle," Donnie explained, Raph just giving him a slightly confused look, "Sigh…I suppose you're going to try and convince me to let you in?" 

Raph blinked at him a couple times, before grinning, "I got just the thing!"

Donnie opened his mouth to argue that it wasn't an invitation, but Raph quickly left. Donnie didn't know what he'd try to convince him with, but he wasn't going to let it work. Even if it was lunch (he was getting awfully hungry…) 

Raph was back moments later, poking his head in with a grin. Donnie was relieved he'd made the specs so large. Even if he hadn't anticipated guests, he adhered to the phrase 'go big or go home'. 

"How's this for an invite?" Raph shoved several blankets through the entrance, watching Donnie with a grin. 

Donnie thought for a moment, before audibly sighing. The igloo could only keep them so warm anyway. One more body and several blankets wouldn't hurt.  

"Alright. Make yourself comfortable, but be mindful of the walls," He warned, watching as Raph slowly crawled into the igloo. April and Mikey had already grabbed blankets, the both of them scooting over to make room for Raph.

Raph pulled a blanket over himself as well, though it was severely lacking in size. 

Donnie grabbed a blanket for himself as well, relishing in the warmth for a moment before sighing. 

"Everyone comfortable?"

Nods around the room. 

"Alright, finally. As I was explaining earlier, the igloo obviously doesn't have a heating system, but it keeps the person inside warm through a very specific building process-" 

"GUYS!? WHERE'D EVERYBODY GO!?" 

Donnie groaned, pulling the blanket up and over his head. Of course Leo still found a way to interrupt him. He just wanted to explain how the igloo worked! Was that too much to ask!?

Leo's shouting grew louder and louder until it was just outside of the entrance. Donnie grabbed his plastic shovel, holding it up to defend himself. 

A moment later Leo poked his head into the igloo. 

He was crawling inside before Donnie could stop him. 

"Oh, hey! You built a igloo-"

"Stay back, Leo. You're not allowed in here." Donnie huffed, moving to block Leo from coming in, "It's supposed to be a sanctuary."

"Sanctuwhat..?" Leo poked his head in a little further to see the rest of the group. He frowned, turning back to Donnie, "What, everyone else is allowed but me? I'm your twin!" 

"So? You're not allowed in cause you're gonna start another snowball fight." Donnie scoffed. He felt a little twinge of guilt, but he knew Leo. And he knew he'd figure out a way to rope Donnie into a fight. 

"You let Raph in!" 

"He came bearing gifts," Donnie retorted, holding up the corner of his blankets, "Anyway, I have a sign here. No Leos."

He pointed to the wall, where he had in fact scrawled a sign that said 'no Leos'. 

"I can't even read that!" Leo scoffed, "Just let me in, Dee, you're not playing fair!" 

"I said no, Leo. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some explaining to-"

"What if I promise no snowballs?" 

Donnie shook his head, fixing Leo with a stare. One that he hoped was intimidating. 

Leo stared back, expression just as hard. But then his eyes drooped a little and he hurriedly turned away. His boots crunched the snow around the igloo for a moment before fading.

"Wow. I didn't think he'd actually listen..." Donnie chuckled, tossing the shovel back in his bucket, "Now as I was saying…" 

"Donnie, don't you think we can let him in? Raph feels a little bad…" 

Donnie sighed, "No, Raph. I wrote a sign and everything. I spent a long time on this and I don't want it to be destroyed by hurricane Leo." 

They were silent for a moment, Donnie clearing his throat to start again. Only to be interrupted by Mikey. 

"But…Leo can play nice if you ask real polite! " He added, "And- and he promised no snowballs!" 

Donnie groaned, "I know, but that was probably just a lie to get in. I do not plan on having snow shoved down my jacket today, alright?"

He glanced at April, "Have anything to say or can I do my speech?"

April just shrugged, "Go ahead, Donnie. But I'm leavin' once you're done" 

Fine. He didn't invite her in anyway. 

"So! The way the igloo keeps in heat-" 

"...Donnie?" 

"What is it now!?" Donnie turned towards the voice, only to see Leo poking his head in again, "Leo, I said no. What do you want?" 

"I just thought you guys might be hungry…" He murmured, holding up a lunchbox and a thermos, "Dad made hot chocolate. and sandwiches."

"Ooh hot chocolate! " Mikey crawled out from under his blanket, fumbling his way towards the entrance. April followed. Raph glanced between Donnie and the entrance, before making his way over as well. 

Donnie watched them go with a frown. Fine! He hadn't wanted guests anyway. 

He pulled the blanket tighter around himself, staring at the No Leo sign. So what? He wasn't hungry. His stomach growled in response. Okay, he was a little hungry. 

He made another pros and cons list in his heads, potential mishaps flooding his brain. Donnie groaned. There were - unfortunately- more pros than cons. 

And he was hungry. 

And lonely.

He had to tell someone about how igloos worked. 

So, he set his blanket aside and crawled out of the igloo. He squinted against the sudden sunlight, his family a few feet away.  

His brothers and April were all sitting in the snow, sipping from the thermos and eating their sandwiches. 

Donnie walked over, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He hated being wrong. And he hated doing apologies. But he…wasn't playing nice. And that was probably why he felt so icky. 

"...Do you all wanna eat in my igloo?" He murmured, staring at his feet, "It's warmer in there."

"Donnie-" 

Leo cut April off, “I never thought you'd ask, Dee! You gonna tell us how that thing works or not?" 

Donnie stiffened a bit at that, nodding. He didn't move, the rest of them gathering up their lunch and heading for the igloo. 

Leo stopped and held out a sandwich, "Here. I know you're real bad at 'pologies. But that's okay." 

He wrapped an arm around Donnie's shoulder and gave him a warm squeeze, "I promise I won't start another snowball fight….yet.”

Donnie chuckled a bit at that. 

"Just let me win, okay?" 

[fleet-of-fiction]

My Truth

Allow me to introduce myself. Hi...

My name is Lucie. You might remember me from my old blog, lightmylove-gvf. It started out as a really fun, wholesome space. Full of love and laughter. I shared pictures and gif sets and works of fiction. Made so many wonderful connections with many different people. It really was a wonderful place to be. Until it wasn't. And although I've tried my best to step away from certain controversies, it seems that people still have an issue with me and still have my name in their mouth. So I'd like to take this opportunity to set the record straight. Maybe move past some untruths and you can all make informed decisions on whether you'd like to continue following me here on my current blog. Which is also a place of peace and love, I might add. And always has been.

Anyway, read on if you'd like. And if not, that's ok too.

I think it's fair to say that I've always been one of the more "controversial" writers around here. I have never shied away from difficult storytelling, and I never will. But what started out as a completely separate issue quickly snowballed into what could only be described as a personal vendetta.

I'm happy to discuss anything within my writing that might be of issue to a reader. A particular blog took offence to a scene I had written in a chapter of my fic, Backstage. I happened to disagree with this blog, and I tried my best to let them know whilst I understood their stance I did not agree with their point of view. I took this opinion to a discord server I was part of along with several other blogs here to see if they could shed more light on the issue.

The scene in question involved a fictionalised version of Josh and the reader in bed. They had gone to bed together with the full narrative of the reader known. How she was in love with him and wanted nothing more than to make love with him. They had been growing close. And Josh began to touch reader as they slept side by side. We get an insight into the readers thoughts during this moment, and they are very much with consent and enjoying the experience. It's meant to be a nod to what is to come. That their bodies are in tune with each other, even if their words are yet to speak of it. I think a lot of experiences in life play out like that. Where we don't always know what to say, but find ourselves in situations where our bodies can do the talking. Anyway, I digress...

There was a lot of opinions flying around in the server. Some were in favour of my opinion, others opposed it and were in favour of the anon who had sent me alot of hateful messages regarding their view that this scene was nothing more than sexual harassment. I explained in the server that I myself had been the victim of sexual assault/harassment. That I knew what it felt like to get into bed with someone I thought that I could trust only to have them break that trust in the most heinous way. I tried to explain that I didn't think this particular scene was that.

One sentence that I said was screenshotted and shared around with absolutely zero context to it and nothing of the rest of the conversation added to the screenshot. Just one sentence that I'd said which pertained to saying that I agreed that people should be able to get in bed with others and have full rights to their own bodies. I was AGREEING with that. It's there in black and white. But the narrative was skewed by people who didn't want to understand me. I tried to explain about how my personal experiences often lied within power imbalances when it came to things like S/H. But in the end, they gave me no chance to explain myself properly. They didn't want to. They'd seen and heard enough and made up their mind.

But it didn't stop there. People who I thought were my friends blocked me. Told me I was disgusting. Told me I was playing the victim. Because I didn't issue a grovelling apology. But how could I? I wasn't sorry. I hadn't done anything wrong. I'd poured my heart out to them about my trauma and abuse and how in my own experience I didn't view it as the same as what I'd written. I'd put trigger warnings. I'd made sure people had the right to information before proceeding!

I had blogs who had never interacted with me block me. Call me disgusting. Tell me fuck myself. I had anons telling me to kill myself. Anons telling me that I was a rapist and...for some reason...a peadophile sympathiser? I didn't deserve that. Nobody deserves that. I literally wrote two consenting adults touching each other in a bed they'd both gotten into...consentingly.... with very obvious (although unspoken at that point) feelings for each other. But now, that wasn't the issue. The issue was my own personal feelings on sexual harassment.

I'm the first to admit that I am perhaps not an easily digestable person to some. But I know that I am kind. I know that I have spent hours proof reading and editing fics for other writers on here because they asked for my help. I've supported people though personal issues, and I've championed the work of other writers because I truly believed that this space was a wonderful space for creativity. I still do, to some degree. I am not perfect, and I know that sometimes I can be a little head strong when it comes to protecting people's rights to free speech. I understand that I'm not palatable as a person to people who don't agree that the freedom to write should come with the freedom to write anything.

To those of you who never ever spoke to me and are still sharing things about me with the hash tag #fuck you lucie.... to you I say why have you jumped on that bandwagon? You do not know me. You know only what you've heard from people who were intent on pushing a narrative that was their own. Not mine. You don't know that these people were once my friends. And they shared my work and enjoyed it as I enjoyed theirs. They told me things about themselves and I was happy to know them. These people who then decided I was a terrible human being. Based on one thing I said that was taken completely out of context. It's almost as if they have shared it so many times now with their own backstory that it's a canon truth. I'm the worst human to ever walk the earth. Forget about all the good things I did for you. I'm scum.

If you're still reading this, you're probably thinking boo hoo what a victim complex. Maybe you're right. Maybe I do have a victim complex. Like everyone else here I have mental health problems and I'm on the spectrum. I have trauma. As part of my adhd I have rejection sensitivity which means when I'm cornered I tend to fight back with justifications as to why I behaved the way I did. I guess that's what I'm doing now. Trying to explain myself. Again. Although what good it'll do, I dont know. And I think right now, it no longer matters.

And yet I still see that I'm being talked about. I'm still getting accused of sending anons to other blogs when I was literally just existing here in my peaceful little corner, everyone who had ever taken issue with me blocked or unfollowed. I didn't know what was going on over there, I was trying to just enjoy reading and writing. My anxiety could never cope with sending a hateful anon, I know there's ways of finding out where they come from and revealing the blogs who send them and it's like that story we're all told about peeing in the pool and turning the water a different colour. I don't fuck with that shit.

If, for any particular reason, I've ever hurt anyone here to them I do issue a heartfelt apology because it has never been and never will be my intention. I said some awful things in the heat of the moment when I was receiving alot of hate and death threats regarding the AI edit a friend of mine made with audio from one of my fics. I was under so much pressure. I wanted it all to just stop. I just wanted everyone to be able to enjoy whatever made them happy. I am sorry for the things I said during that time. Im a human being. I am flawed. However..

I do not believe that people lose their rights to their body the minute they climb into bed with someone. And that's precisely what I say in the infamous screenshot. I just hope for anyone who has seen it that they now understand that it was said with love and understanding and support. I would never disregard anyones trauma or triggers. Never. And that is why I believe in giving people all the information they require before consuming media and art.

With all this said, I sincerely hope that it's clear that all I want to do is write. It's all ive ever done and all I will ever really be any good at doing. I'm proud of the fics I've put out here on my old blog and this one too. I don't care about how many notes they get, just that one or two people read it and enjoy it. And I hope you all know that I'm a nice person, too. So are a lot of blogs who have been villainised recently. This witch hunt has got to stop. We have got to start listening to each other with peace and understanding and not jump to conclusions. Not make people out to be something they simply aren't.

I want to curate a loving space here. A safe and nurturing space for anyone to feel free within. I want people to know they can jump in my asks and know that I will love them. I want everyone, of every race and every gender and ever creed of this world to know they are welcome and accepted here. Like a wise man that we all know and love once said. I'm not the person they say I am. I never was. And I think some of them know that. It is my greatest hope that any of you who wish to stick around get to know me for yourselves.

It is my greatest wish that those blogs who are still spouting hate about me really grow and heal. Or even better, pop on over and get to know me? I think it's important to understand why you might hate someone and not just from unreliable sources. If you think that I am some sort of s/a supporter who revels in writing that sort of thing then I'd be glad to dispel that myth.

I'm not going to speak on this again because I feel that I've moved on. This blog is my creative outlet and always will be. And as I've stated above its a safe and loving space for all. I'm reclaiming the fun. And hopefully some of you will stick around for it. And if not, I bid you a farewell. With nothing but love in my heart.

[captmickey]

Graham has found a dusty door in one of Daventry Castle’s basements (disused dungeon?). It is locked, and they have no key. The guards are defensive and take charge. Do they get in and what’s behind it, or are they forced to give up and it remains a mystery?

I'm so so so sorry it took forever and a half, I was just debating how the story should go and then got busy and-- well, now I had time. And a story.

So here ya go! ---

“Leave it to you to find something that was not meant to be found.” Number One grumbled, standing with his arms crossed as Graham kneeled in front of the dusty door attempting (and failing) to pick at the lock.

“If it wasn’t meant to be found, it should have been turned into a wall.” Graham pointed out.

“It was hidden behind one. AND a tapestry.” 

“Then whoever bricked up the wall did a poor job.”

“Wasn’t our fault the budget was abysmal during the Missing Treasure Fiasco.” Number One muttered just below enough so none of the other guards could hear, but Graham heard clearly.

“Say, why was it bricked up in the first place?” Number Two asked, leaning on the adjacent wall as Graham continued to pick at it. “I don’t recall that being a thing.”

“It was something spoken exclusively between the late King Edward, Gideon, and myself.”

“Gideon?” Graham looked up.

“Our original captain before Ken took over.” Number Two explained.

“Number Two!” Number One snapped at him. “On duty–”

“Names aren’t to be used, yeah yeah, I know.”

“I can see your blasted eye roll from here.”

“Can you see this too?” A pause. “On second thought, nevermind, the helmet tastes terrible.”

“Disgusting.” Number One stated.

Graham sighed and lowered the lockpick tool. It looked so much easier when Ginger or Anisette did it, maybe it was the movement of his wrist?

“Giving up?” Number Two asked.

“Never.” Graham stood up, pocketing away the kit and placing his hands on his hips. “Just… are you sure there’s no key?”

“Positive!” Kyle shouted from down the hall as he came running down the hallway with Larry stacked on top. “We just examined every nook and cranny and found nothing.”

“Did Number Three find anything?” Number Two asked.

“Also nothing, but she said she wanted to give it one more go with Number Sixty Four in regards to the whereabouts of all the keys.” Kyle said. “So until then, we got nothing.”

“Sorry, Majesty.” Larry apologized.

“No need to apologize. I appreciate it, thank you.” Graham said before turning his attention to Number One. “What was this place before, anyways? I don’t recall seeing it on the castle plan when I first came to rule.”

All their attention went to Number One who was standing back with his arms crossed, looking to be anywhere but here before sighing and leaning his head back to exhale through his nose. 

“It used to be part of the dungeons.” He answered. “Before King Edward’s time, this castle had excess dungeons for enemies… though stars help me, I wouldn’t constitute goblins or faeries as enemies so long as you don’t step on their turf. Maybe the average thief or assassin, but they’re so far and few in between one could arguably say they’re not even worth a thought.” 

“Goblins aren’t to be taken lightly…” Graham rubbed his arm from the last encounter he had with one of them tossing their brethren at him like a common snowball.

“But when King Edward realized that it wasn’t making Daventry much allies, he had it ordered that these dungeons be transformed into storage, as you can plainly see by the one-too-many-boxes that I’m dying to be rid of but life insists some other trivial matter takes top priority.” Number One finished. “Such as that blasted door.”

“So this door is another dungeon?” Graham pressed.

Number One paused and ‘hmm’ just quietly enough in contemplation. 

“Wait, is it?” Kyle spoke up, shocked.

“Is this for the more intense criminals? Traitors of Daventry?” Larry added.

“Clearly it’s bad enough if it was sealed behind a wall and a tapestry… say, lad, how’d you come across this place, anyways?” Number Two asked.

“I was just strolling about, trying to get a hang of the castle’s layout when I saw the door that led in here… and then I heard a whistling sound and I followed it to here.” Graham explained. 

“And you’ve been trying to open it since?” Larry asked.

He pulled out the lockpick kit and showed them. “With nothing but failure to show for it.”

“Shame, was really looking forward to know what was behind that door.” Kyle sighed.

“I didn’t think I found something so cryptic. W-what is behind that door, Number One?” Graham looked at the captain who had remained frighteningly quiet, still humming under his helmet.

“Ken?” Number Two pressed. He looked away when Number One gave him a sharp stare. “Sorry, Number One.”

“Actually… I’m not quite sure.” He confessed. “I only came to the conversation as they were discussing sealing it up, but I never knew what it was.”

“So, aren’t you just a little bit curious?” Number Two asked, going over and draping an arm around him. “You are the head of the Royal Guard and the lad here is our king and is oh so curious what’s behind that door.”

“You just want to know what’s there.” Number One bluntly stated.

“Don’t you?” Graham asked, getting a bark of a laugh from the second in command. 

“Sorry, sir, but we won’t be able to go back to our usual work until we figure out what’s behind the door.” Kyle said.

“And that’s two less guards that can patrol considering we’re inseparable.” Larry added.

“We don’t have the key and none of us are exactly proficient with breaking and entering.” Number One said. “And if we slam the door down, who knows what sort of damage it could do.”

“We could always take it off the hinges.” Number Three’s voice rang through as she walked over to them. “Or is it too rusted?”

“Going to assume rusted…” Graham admitted, looking now at the hingest. “But maybe a good strike would make it crumble. I could– huh?”

He felt Larry and Kyle pulling him to the side and saw Number One give a nod. 

“You won’t be touching that door anymore, Your Majesty.” Number One stated. 

“But I want to see what’s behind the door!” Graham pouted. 

“Who said we won’t?” Number One looked at him. “No offense, Pockets, but with your luck, the door could potentially fall on you much like last week’s avalanche.” 

He recalled the time Number One caught him trapped under a pile of addendums. It was one of those memories where his face burned so hot as Number One fell to his knees and was wheezing with tears staining his face. His cheeks turned red slightly. 

“Exactly.” He drew out his sword. “Number Two, Number Three, please stand ready to catch the door.”

“Sir!” The two saluted and walked into position.

Number One raised the hilt of the sword and gave a solid whack to the rusted hinges, startling himself as it collapsed just as Number Three said it would. 

“One down!” Number Three cheered.

“Two to go!” Number Two cheered as well.

“Go Number One!” Graham pumped his fists.

“It’s just a rusted door hinge.” Number One muttered. “Hardly anything to cheer about.”

He whacked at the other two hinges and just like the first one, they collapsed as though it were nothing. The door teetered back and forth but couldn’t fall in either direction as both Number Two and Number Three caught it and carefully moved it to the side, revealing the inside of the room to the six of them. 

Graham took a step before getting, once more, harshly yanked back by Kyle and Larry as Number One stepped in first.

“Hey, wait a second, I was the one who found it, why don’t I get a first look?!” Graham called out.

“You’re the King.” All the Royal Guards reminded him in a unison that was done one too many times.

“Right. That.” Graham’s ears burned.

Number One shook his head and stepped inside, his sword still drawn just in case. As he took a look, he sheathed his weapon and placed his hands on his hips, his brow furrowed underneath his helmet. “It’s safe for Pockets.”

Quickly in a blur of red and blue, Graham rushed in and looked around trying to take in the sight. There was a window with a broken glass, allowing undoubtedly the wind to whistle for his attention. Surrounded were barrels and barrels of rolled up parchments, tapestries that had to deal with decades of the elements but still told its story, treasure chests stacked on top of one another like a makeshift mountain.

It looked, frankly, like another one of those storages just outside.

Graham’s shoulders sagged, disappointment read loud and clear as he let out a sigh.

“Well.” Larry spoke up, having unstacked off of Kyle so that the two could look at the room. “This is frankly disappointing.”

“I’m a bit sad, if I’m being quite honest.” Kyle frowned.

“I thought it would be gold.” Number Two sighed. 

“Why would they seal up gold?” Number Three stared at him. “That makes no sense.”

“Unless it was cursed.” He countered. “Everyone seals up cursed gold.”

“But why—”

“Like pirates!” Kyle joked.

She paused and quietly agreed. 

Graham looked around as the guards got into a conversation about a PIrate King of Daventry and pulled one of the scrolls from the barrel, making sure to handle it with absolute care in case it would disintegrate in his hands. He tilted his head and rolled it back up, pulling another one and unfurled that as well as he pulled it closer to read.

Number One noticed his sudden change in expression and walked over, his hand on the hilt of the blade as he tapped Graham’s shoulder.

“Something about it caught your eye?” Number One asked.

To his surprise, Graham turned to look at him with stars in his eyes and a smile that shined brighter than any gold. 

“These are maps to all the treasures in Daventry.” Graham said. 

“We’re not short on gold, sire–”

“No. Not treasure as in gold.” Graham handed the parchment to Number One. “Treasures as in all the hidden legends of Daventry. Not just the floating island.”

“They could belong to faes or goblins.” Number One warned, but the excitement of a new discovery of his homeland was bubbling. 

“We’re not gonna conquer, but we can befriend. Make allies.” Graham explained. “You said King Edward tried to make peace once with the faeries, elves, and such?”

“With poor success, yes.”

Graham tapped at it. “We can do it. We can go and find them, ask for an audience and build a strong relationship. Plus… wouldn’t it be grand to see what more stories Daventry has to offer?”

Number One stared at the parchment and the various barrels, realizing that there was much to Daventry that was left to be properly explored. He looked at Graham with that excited and welcoming smile of his… he rolled it up and sighed.

“If there is anyone that could make an audience with them… it’d be you, Pockets.”

“Well then, lets get to work!”

[da-awesom-one]

This Is The Thanks I Get?! (Jack Frost Version) - Chris Pine

*DISCLAIMER: These lyrics are fan-made lyrics of a song created and owned by Disney for a character that is owned by Dreamworks. No money is being made off of this. This was solely written for recreational purposes.*

sing = siiing

LYRICS UPDATED: 8/3/2024

-

Jack shook his head in disbelief, and then shook it towards the moon. "That's it. I've had it! I've had it with your silence, and I've had it with everybody and their mother giving me the cold shoulder!" He ran a hand through his hair, scoffing again. "I mean, what's it gonna take?!"

Frost began to count off from his free left hand. "I've started snowball fights, not that they ever let me in on them considering I'm invisible! I've even frosted some windows over to write them messages, and lemme tell ya, those were not the reactions I was hopin' for!"

"I mean, what do I gotta do, huh?!" he groaned, throwing his arms up into the air. "Do I actually have to spell it out for them, o-or sing it out loud to get them to hear me?!"

He was grimacing when he said this. But as the words registered in his head, his expression became pensive as he considered his remark.

In truth... he hadn't tried that.

Jack rubbed his chin in thought as he pondered this new development, his eyes darting left and right like clockwork. Was he really that desperate? Would he really stoop so low? Debase himself in such a way?

...It turned out that yes. Jack was that desperate.

"...Oh, what the heck."

(VERSE 1)

I can’t help it… if no one can look my way.

It’s a curse, I tell ya! 

Can’t stop it no matter what I do, or say!

Peep the name, son! It’s Jack Frost!

I’m THE rebel without a cause!

I’m free-spirited! My own kind of boss!

SO HOW COME EVERYONE WANTS ME TO GET LOST?!

“Ahem! Lemme explain…”

I’d give the cloak off my own bare back,

If you really needed that.

I’ll be the first one to volunteer myself!

If your igloo were to crumble, or if you were in trouble.

(PRE-CHORUS)

I’d cancel all your school days,

Be that friend that suggests fun stuff,

Take blame for all the messes!

And I’ll be there for you when things get rough!

I’d give, and give, and give, and give!

You’d think it’d be more than enough…

And all I really want is to get in on the fun.

(CHORUS)

But this is the thanks I get! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

This is the thanks I get! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

For wanting to be seen by them! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

Looks like I’ll get ignored again. (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

Since this is the thanks I get!

(INTERLUDE 1)

(Da, da, da, da)

(Da-da-da-da-da, da, da, da)

(Da-da-da-da-da, da, da, da)

(Da-da-da-da-da. Da-da, da)

(VERSE 2)

It’s so stupid!

But that’s the least I could say.

There are more words that are well-suited.

Like "cruel," and "wrong," and "unfair," and "lame!”

The gifts you gave me? I’m showing them off!

And you still won’t talk? You’re blowing me off?!

Um, do you think I won’t come up there?

‘Cause I won’t hesitate to drag your butt down here!

(PRE-CHORUS)

UGH!

I made a hundred snow days last year!

C’mon! That’s a high percent!

And still you won’t let me be seen?

The disrespect I just underwent!

You get my hopes up, and tear them down.

But, really, what do I expect?

It’s been like this every year ever since we met…

(CHORUS)

So this is the thanks I get! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

This is the thanks I get! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

For expecting you to really listen! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

Did I just get run over by Sven?! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

RRRRGH, THIS IS THE THANKS I GET?!

(INTERLUDE 2)

(Da, da, da, da)

(Da-da-da-da-da, da, da, da)

(Da-da-da-da-da, da, da, da)

(Da-da-da-da-da. Da. Da)

(BRIDGE)

I didn’t wanna do this.

I SWORE I’d never sing this!

But I’m really runnin’ outta options here,

‘Cause I refuse to be unseen for another year!

A ballad, a jingle, a melody, a glee?!

ANYTHING for them to finally see me!

To this low I’d really rather not stoop to,

But a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do!...

*Cough* “Where was I? Oh yeah, right…”

(PRE-CHORUS)

Been at this for a century now,

So don’t think I’ll be going away!

C’mon, now. Say something, man!

Gonna leave me hangin’ here without a say?

Well, whenever you wanna chat-

Yeah, that’ll be the day.

Honestly? Something tells me I’m gonna be there, either way…

(CHORUS)

‘Cause this is the thanks I get! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

This is the thanks I get! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

My mental energy’s all spent! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

For thinking today’d be different… (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

*Sigh.* This is the thanks I get.

(END)

“So thanks! Thanks for nothing…”

-

Been mulling over this ever since Disney released the song weeks ago. Figured I'd try my hand at a Jack Frost version, and I definitely love how it turned out. Might even add it to my fic, hence why I added some passages of it before the song.

Also added to the chorus, putting in extra lines. This was inspired by the Booth To Screen video of This Is The Thanks I Get?! where it ends with Chris Pine singing the whole first chorus before ending with how he harmonizes in the third line of the 2nd and last choruses. So in this version there are musical interludes between verses. Look it up on YouTube, and you guys will see what I mean.

Keep in mind, Jack's mentality here is "This Is The Thanks I Get for thinking today's gonna be any different than yesterday… or the last 100 years.” This is set during his 300 years of isolation, so again, he's trying all sorts of things to get seen. The spectrum is far more different than the villainous version depicted by King Magnifico, especially the middle where Jack loses his cool. Though not shown in these lyrics, in the story setting, he’s gonna try to calm himself down, which is mostly what he’s struggling with during the Bridge. Whereas Magnifico doesn’t, and gets himself continuously worked up before doing something he can’t take back.

Another example of the difference between the two is at the end when, instead of screaming in rage like the king, Jack just reins it in, and just flatly sings the last verse.

Long story short: both characters allow themselves to go insane here. Difference here is Jack remembered to make sure he came back. Magnifico didn’t.

Either way, the song's extremely catchy, and I can find myself singing to either version. Hope you guys enjoyed reading or singing it in your head.

PS: for those wondering, the Sven Jack mentioned in the song is Sven the Reindeer from Frozen. 😉

[toppamplemousse]

helloo! I hope you're doing well 😊

Just wanted to come in here and let you know that I absolutely love and adoreeee your fic – La Rentrée so so much that I’ve read it twice in just a week! (and will probably read it again :D) The writing & characterization was just so so so good, soo fabulous. I think I’ve just found myself a new comfort fic that's for sure💗

Even the second part was just. so. damn. good🥵🔥 words are failing me to explain just how much I loved reading both the parts of this cute and sweet story!!

Absolutely no pressure at all, but is there any chance we could see more glimpses of this universe? Because I am gonna eat up everything related to this AU from now on. Maybe A Day in the Life of the Verstappen-Leclerc Household?

If not, then that's totally fine as well, I am happy that you shared this piece with the rest of us; thank you so much for this fic❤️

ahhh thank you so much, so glad you liked the fics and the universe!! it is truly so much fun to imagine what the grid would be like as PTA parents and to assign roles to all the current and former drivers 💕💕

your ask inspired a bit of a brainworm about a morning in the life of the leclerc-verstappens, below the cut because it then snowballed into almost 3k of chaos and fluff and charles and max being obsessed with each other.

and please send in any more ideas you have for this AU, we’d love to write other little scenes and we’ll try not to make them all 3k 🤪

hope you enjoy!! 😊🥰

wednesday morning [a la rentrée bonus scene] charles/max | 2.6k words

Max feels himself slowly start to wake up, tendrils of awareness yanking away the fog of sleep that covers him like a blanket. The fragmented images of his dream (an Italian villa, a view of the sea, Charles’ golden skin) dissolve into more mundane, but no less welcome, images of their darkened bedroom (the fan whirring overhead, clothes heaped onto the chair beside the closet, Charles’ golden skin).

His husband is still asleep, his legs entwined with Max’s under the covers, his head pillowed on Max’s outstretched arm. Max watches the steady rise and fall of his chest for a few moments, and smiles. All in all, not a bad view to wake up to.

Recalling his dream, Max leans forward to press a lingering kiss to the top of Charles’ shoulder, then ghosts his lips up his neck to mouth at the underside of his jaw. Max gently kisses Charles’ cheek and he feels his husband drift awake, a dimple forming underneath his lips and eyelashes fluttering against his nose. Max pulls back to see those green eyes blink open sleepily.

“Morning schat,” he whispers, pressing another brief kiss to Charles’ other cheek. Charles sighs in contentment and his hand scrabbles briefly under the covers to find Max’s and intertwine their pinkies. Max traces the cool metal of Charles’ wedding ring with his hand, twisting it around Charles’ finger, and he feels as content as Charles sounds.

“G’morning,” Charles’ voice is still deep and raspy with sleep. He shuffles closer, kissing Max’s temple and then nosing at the juncture between Max’s neck and shoulder, looking and sounding like he wants to fall back asleep right there, “‘T time’s it?”

Max loops a hand behind Charles’ waist, both to pull him closer and to check the time on his phone on the nightstand. There’s another text from an unknown number that Max swipes away without a second thought.

“Almost seven,” Max whispers, “So we’ve got a bit of time before the kids wake up.”

“Mmm,” Charles hums, satisfied, and smiles against the skin of Max’s neck. His finger traces a nonsensical pattern on Max’s chest and Max can read the intention behind it.

Just as he’s thinking about doing something about that intention, the door swings open, little feet patter across the floor, a small weight lands on the end of the bed with a tiny “Oof” and then, inexplicably, there’s a cat in Max’s face.

“Dada!” Ollie flops on top of him, grinning, “Jimmy wanted to say hello!”

“Yes, I can see that, liefje,” Max replies, ruffling his son’s messy curls and maneuvering Jimmy off of his face and into the divot of the bed between him and Charles. Jimmy pops one eye open, almost scolding, as if Max was the one throwing him around, and then settles in the warm sheets. “But try to be careful with him, yes?”

“But Dada he likes it, he told me!” Ollie protests, scrambling to stand with his feet on either side of Max’s legs and bending forward to try to do a handstand with his little hands on Max’s shins. “He wants to play!” He insists, voice muffled.

Max is skeptical, given the fact that the cat is already back asleep, but there’s no way he can say that in the face of Ollie’s innocent glee. Max’s fingers tangle with Charles’ on Jimmy’s fur and they exchange a bemused glance, imbued with all the affection they have for their son and the fleeting frustration at having been interrupted.

“Come on, lollipop, let’s leave your Papa to wake up a little more and we’ll go get dressed.” Charles flashes a grateful smile as Max scoops Ollie around the waist with one hand before he can fall off the bed and snatches Jimmy up with the other hand.

“Okay, Dada, and Vivi is making us breakfast, so then we will have it!”

Before Max can even process that statement, there’s a loud ‘thunk’ from the direction of the kitchen, followed immediately by Violette’s voice exclaiming “It’s okay!”

Max looks at Charles again and all hopes for a peaceful morning fly out the window. Charles shakes his head, but smiles, and Max can read the look in his eye as She’s your daughter alright. Max wouldn’t have it any other way. Charles swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands, pulling on a faded Heineken t-shirt that Max got as a gift from a client.

“I’ll go see what she’s up to, and you can help Ollie,” Charles says, tickling their son on his stomach and squeezing Max’s hip as he passes them to open the door and head down the stairs, “Vivi, sweetheart, we talked about only helping in the kitchen when there’s an adult there.”

Once out in the hallway, Max lets Jimmy jump down to the floor, and watches him skitter into the guest room, probably to hide underneath the bed with Sassy and be safe from grabby five year-old hands.

Those grabby five year-old hands are currently pointing to each of the dinosaurs on his pajama shirt and proudly telling Max their names – the red one, ‘apallosaur’ (apatosaurus, Max guesses), the blue one, ‘velonactor’ (velociraptor, Max is pretty sure), and the green on is T-rex and did you know that we are learning about dinosaurs in Mr. Alonso’s class, Dada?

While Ollie narrates, Max fetches his uniform clothes from the dresser. Ollie stubbornly refuses to let Max help him get dressed, insisting that he’s a big boy and he can do it himself.

Max relents with a bemused smile, and watches as Ollie furrows his brow and fumbles with the buttons on his shirt, the same line appearing between his eyebrows as when Charles is poring over blueprints at the kitchen table late at night before an important pitch meeting. Ollie lets out a frustrated huff as he struggles to fold up the cuffs of his shorts the same way that Charles does whenever Max insists that they take the BMW on a road trip instead of the less practical but much sexier and more fun, Max, come on Ferrari. And the way that Ollie’s lips twist to the side in a pout as he tries to yank his socks on in a way that is so undeniably Charles that Max can’t help but laugh.

Ollie’s personality is so unique, a perfect blend of Charles’ impulsive enthusiasm and Max’s thoughtful kindness, but his mannerisms are all Charles. Max can’t wait to see the similarities grow as Ollie does.

Max makes sure to tuck Ollie’s shirt in, lest he get another reminder from the Friends PTA president about the proper way for the kids to wear the uniform, Mr. Verstappen.

Ollie finishes getting dressed, just as Charles calls up the stairs for the two of them to come down for pancake breakfast.

“Pancakes!!!” Ollie cheers as he races out of the room and Max follows him, entering the kitchen to the heavenly smell of baking pancakes and also the sight of flour and chocolate chips scattered across the countertop. His husband and his daughter are not the most organized chefs.

“Ollie, will you set the table for me?” Charles asks, “And Vivi, honey, will you get the plates and cups out?” Both kids immediately set off on their tasks, and Max takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around Charles’ waist and rest his chin on his shoulder.

“If you find any eggshells in your pancakes, don’t say a word, Vivi tried very hard to pick them all out,” Charles warns, flipping the last of the pancakes onto the serving platter and turning off the stove. Max laughs and feels Charles’ answering giggle in his own ribcage.

“Not the most relaxing morning, hmm?” Max says, burying his nose in Charles’ hair “If I had my way, I’d have kept you in bed for another hour at least.”

“Max!” Charles gasps dramatically, reaching around to hit him with the oven mitt, “Si obscène! You only have to wait until Friday, and then the kids will be at Lorenzo’s for the weekend.”

“Hmm, so I have until Friday to think of all the things I’m going to do to you this weekend.” Max murmurs, “The things I’m going to do, the places I'm going to do them.” He gives the counter a significant look and Charles flushes pink as he elbows Max away to grab the serving platter.

There are very few things in the world that Max enjoys more than riling Charles up, he thinks to himself as he grabs the maple syrup and follows Charles into the dining room, where Violette and Ollie are already sitting and chattering away.

The topics of conversation over breakfast vary wildly, as they often do, with Ollie and Violette ping-ponging between discussing their various friends, activities, and opinions, and Max and Charles resigned to exchanging amused glances across the table and barely being able to get in a word edgewise. Today’s conversation ranges from the parts for the school play to the new football cleats that Violette can’t wait to show Coach Ky to the vacation that Clemmie is taking to Australia over winter break.

(Which involves a brief detour into an argument about the capital of Australia: Vivi insists it’s Melbourne and Ollie insists it’s Sydney and Max is unable to resist pointing out that the capital is actually Canberra.)

(Charles smirks at him and Max briefly and vividly recalls the many times he has had to recite the European capitals in his head when Charles is on top of him, or under him, or in front of him, the sight of his husband's golden, glistening skin and the filthy sounds dripping from his lips making it almost impossible for Max to control himself.)

(He also recalls the time that he drunkenly confessed that to Charles in a moment of weakness and now has to endure teasing about it for the rest of his life.)

Max blushes and kicks Charles underneath the table.

After breakfast, Violette sits on the carpet in the living room and Max sits behind her on the couch and he takes a second to briefly marvel at their little family, how much he loves having a morning routine like theirs, where he braids Violette’s hair while she excitedly fills him in on what her plans are for that school day, how his heart warms as he watches Charles in the kitchen with Ollie, giggling as he holds the little boy up to the kitchen sink so that Ollie can help with the dishes, Papa, I can do them for you!

And how he wouldn’t mind adding another tornado of chaos to their lives sometime soon, even if it means that relaxing mornings in bed with Charles will be even rarer than they already are.

Max thought he was the luckiest man alive back when Charles kissed him for the first time, a decade ago now, when he realized that Charles felt it too, that magnetic pull between them. But every single day since, Max’s luck has only continued to grow, giving him two adorable, sweet, happy children, a family and a life he adores with the man that he loves.

Max combs through Violette’s thick blonde hair with his fingers, careful not to pull on the tangles hard enough to pinch. His daughter squirms around in her seat and her mouth opens and shuts a few times, before she continues wriggling around more.

“Vi, is there something you’d like to say? Does your hair hurt?” Max softens his touch a little as he begins to separate her hair into sections.

Violette is quiet for a moment before she says in a stage whisper, “Dada, can you keep a secret? And pinky promise you won’t tell?” Violette holds out her pinky and Max hooks it with his own, promising in a voice that matches Violette’s serious tone, unbelievably curious as to what she’s going to reveal.

Violette’s eyes widen and she lowers her voice, “Yesterday, at recess, Jamie and Lila and Sadie painted their uniform shoes green because it’s Mr. Alonso’s favorite color. And they also spilled the paint in Mr. Webber’s classroom but he doesn’t know yet.”

Violette reveals the secret as if it’s the single most important piece of information she possesses. Max makes sure to gasp dramatically enough to show that he’s really taking this secret-revealing business seriously. He can only imagine how all the involved parties will react when they found out: Mr. Webber, resigned dismay, and Mr. Alonso, restrained glee.

If George found out — which he wouldn’t from Max, he’d made a pinky promise, after all — there would definitely be a fun conversation with Lando about Jamie corrupting the Russell twins that Max would pay to see.

The kids rush upstairs to get their backpacks and Max follows Charles into their bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready. Max can feel Charles’ eyes on him in the mirror as Max fixes his hair, turning his head left and right to see it sticking up all over the place, and thinking about how he should see when Pascale is free for a haircut.

Maybe Charles can read his mind, or maybe he just knows Max really well, but Charles spits his toothpaste into the sink and fixes him with a glare, “Don’t you even think about cutting your hair, I will call Maman right now and tell her she’s not to let you within a meter of a pair of scissors, don’t think I won’t.”

“Why can’t I cut it?” Max protests, “It’s getting way too long, and it just looks shabby.”

“First of all, it looks very dashing and handsome and I don’t want to hear you calling yourself shabby, mon amour.” Max’s stomach flips pleasantly, still excited after all these years to hear Charles call him handsome.

“Second of all,” Charles lowers his voice, “It’s the perfect length to pull on right now, so if you cut it I’ll be very unhappy.” As if to illustrate his point, Charles runs a hand through Max’s hair and gently tugs on it, and Max wishes that they didn’t have to be leaving for school and work in literally two minutes.

“If you don’t stop saying things like that, then I’m adding this bathroom to the list of places I’m going to fuck you this weekend,” Max leans in closer, lips brushing Charles’ ear as he speaks, “And you can pull on my hair all you want while I suck you off, but only after I’ve bent you over the counter and had my way with you, yes?”

“Max,” Charles whines against his neck.

Max presses a kiss to the spot below Charles’ ear, reveling in the shiver he watches spread across his husband’s body. They both giggle as they pull apart, overly flushed for a routine Wednesday morning.

Max finishes getting ready quicker than Charles — no surprises there — and heads downstairs to help Violette pack her backpack and Ollie tie his shoes. A few minutes later, Charles races down the stairs, drafting papers spilling from his briefcase, hugging Ollie and Violette goodbye, promising to see them at pickup, and pressing a chaste, minty, too-quick kiss to Max’s lips that has Max leaning forward to chase his lips as Charles breezes out the door, late for a meeting as usual.

Max hears the Pista engine rev as Charles pulls out of the garage. He hopes that George isn’t watching through his blinds, otherwise they’re going to get another strongly-worded email about respecting the speed limits of the neighborhood.

Max himself makes sure to not go a kilometer above the speed limit as he drives the familiar route to Friends, Ollie and Violette in the backseat giggling about something Mr. Raikkonen said in class yesterday. As Max pulls into the parking lot, he barely has time to slow the car to a stop before Violette is skipping over to Estrella and Ollie is running to greet Jacques.

Max would love nothing more than to get back in his car and begin the commute to work, but unfortunately, as Charles always reminds him, part of the drop-off job includes socializing with the other parents. He glances to the side of the playground and sees George chatting with Oscar and that blond American guy who has a crush on Charles. Resolving to talk mainly to Oscar, Max heads in their direction.

“Max!” George calls as he approaches, “Did you see my text about your assigned dish for the potluck after the Christmas pageant? It’s really quite urgent, we only have two months to go.”

Max congratulates himself quite heartily on his ability to resist the urge to roll his eyes, and wishes more than ever that he could be back in the dream he was having this morning: the sun on his face, the sea in the distance, and Charles – just Charles, only Charles, always Charles – to keep him company.

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

I’ll leave whether or not this is a request up to you. I just want to share the idea of Christmas season with JayGar. Making cookies with them, putting together a gingerbread house too. Kissing under mistletoe. Decorating the tree, just the place in general. Maybe it snows. Gar insists on making snow people and there’s a snowball fight. Watching them roll around in the snow, play-fighting. Going inside after and making hot cocoa. It’d be so sweet, cozy, fun, and loving and I’m soft for it right now. -Rotten Anon

okay, this makes me feral and foaming at the mouth. I am so deeply upset that Jason was not at the Titans Christmas in Season 4 because it's supposed to take place in Gotham at Wayne Manor if I'm correct? and like I understand that Jason was still kind of on the outs with the Titans, but Gar would have wanted him there, and Jason coming to Christmas dinner or something would have been a great step in mending the relationships. grrr

anyway! Christmas with JayGar. omg. consider this my headcanons post because I can't help myself

Christmas With Jason Todd and Gar Logan

(These headcanons operate under the idea that they are in a poly relationship with the reader, or they are flirtatious/sexual and forming that kind of poly relationship.) (This also kind of accidentally turned into Christmas headcanons about the Titans in general.) (Also, this is mostly fluff and there is some mild sexual themes, because I can't help myself when it comes to JayGar.)

So, first of all, I definitely feel like Christmas at Titans Tower would be so different from a family Christmas - like, spending Christmas with Jason and Gar once the three of you have moved out to start a family and 'settle down' or when everyone has come home to a place like Wayne Manor for a traditional family Christmas. Living with Jason and Gar in your own place would be a lot more like you mentioned, but I am thinking about more of the S2 era (I love that era so much.) But I could definitely make another post about like - post No Place Like Home Christmas with JayGar.

Christmas at Titans Tower - I am imagining a situation where they lived at the Tower for longer before Rose showed up (and then Deathstroke tried to kill everyone) and they had Christmas during that time. OR during the time they continued living at the Tower before Gotham, they had Christmas (and Jason is still there because I said so). It would be wonderful chaos.

Dick would not even have the idea to decorate or really celebrate Christmas in any way until Rachel or Gar bring it up. The original Titans did celebrate Christmas, but it was 90% Dawn's doing. (In the show, we saw how she turned Hank's sad, single guy apartment into a really femme, well decorated place. And it is of my opinion that she planned Garth's birthday party by herself. She would demand Christmas decorations.) And because Dawn wanted extensive Christmas decorations, Dick funded it (with his daddy's credit card) because he would do anything to please her.

So back then, the original Titans had a huge, lavish Christmas tree, they had all kinds of extensive decorations for the main lounge area - Dawn bought everyone ugly Christmas sweaters and Christmas pajamas and made everybody wear them. And they definitely did a Secret Santa where everyone picked a name and only bought one gift, but it was soooo easy to tell who bought which gift.

So when Rachel starts asking Dick 'what are we gonna do for Christmas?' - Dick's first thought is: nothing. Kory and Conner are curious about what Christmas is - it's actually funny trying to explain to them how a holiday that is technically rooted in religion is actually practised by a lot of non-religious people, and most of the traditions have nothing to do with Christianity.

Gar is excited to do something for Christmas. When he was living at Caulder House, they used to have a big family Christmas - mostly because nobody left the house and it was something to do. His parents weren't super religious when he was growing up, so he never had super traditional Christmas celebrations when he was living on the nature reserve - Rita and the others were the first ones to introduce him to a lot of Christmas elements and classic Christmas films, and he has loved it ever since.

Gar loves the idea of a time when you give to others selflessly and when simply being kind is a unique magic of its own. So of course he's eager to celebrate Christmas with the Titans.

You're kind of indifferent to it all - you can get into Christmas, but you can go without it.

And on the other hand, Jason hates Christmas.

Yeah - genuinely, it's of my opinion that Jason from Season 1/Season 2 (and probably Season 3) would fucking despise the concept of Christmas. (An evolved, post No Place Like Home Jason would love Christmas, but we'll talk about that later.)

So - Jason hates Christmas. And it's one of those things that, much like everything else in his life, can be attributed to his upbringing. Sometimes Rachel makes jokes that Jason blames everything on 'foster kid bullshit' but - it's true. Because everything in his life can be blamed on his shitty childhood. When you grow up poor like he did, there is no Christmas magic. He was the kid in school who was telling everyone else that Santa Claus does not exist, because he was bitter and angry that Santa never brought him any presents, and he realized very early on that it was just a made-up story. So he forced that bitterness about his own situation onto other people.

Did he start liking Christmas after he moved in with Bruce? Fuck no.

Having Christmas with a billionaire only made things more awkward for Jason. Especially because Alfred is the one with Christmas spirit, and not Bruce. Bruce grew up half Catholic and half Jewish due to his parents faith, so before they died, he several years observing Jewish holidays and having a huge blow-out Christmas with a lot of Christmas magic, and after they died - he became stoic.

(Note: I am talking about the Titans version of Bruce here.)

He mostly observes the holidays by silently donating to charity, sometimes going to church to say prayers and reflect, and privately lighting a menorah and saying the prayers that go along with it to honor his parents - something that he has never invited Dick or Jason to participate in. Alfred always makes a big, traditional Christmas dinner and decorates the Manor, and he is the one who prompts the exchange of gifts - and Jason fucking hates this.

Jason doesn't have an income of his own, and he hates shopping for gifts with someone else's credit card, and he always feel awkward as fuck receiving generic, expensive gifts from Bruce (like an Xbox or an iPhone) while giving him something like a tie or cuff links that Alfred picked out - that Bruce knows were bought with his own money, that doesn't even garner much of a react beyond a polite, mandatory 'thank you'. In Jason's opinion, one of the only hell's worst than spending Christmas starving, cold, and penniless is spending it in one of the large, opulent, over-decorated rooms of the Manor sitting with Bruce in stony silence while the man sips tea and makes stiff faces at the gift Jason's gives him.

So Jason doesn't expect Christmas at the Tower to be much different. He's not looking forward to it, and generally, wants to avoid it.

But he has no such luck.

Dick is randomly on the phone with Dawn one night (Dawn and Hank are trying to do the farm thing again - they're not taking care of horses, but they are living out in the country in the middle of nowhere, because they have come to like the seclusion), and he mentions that Rachel brought up Christmas, and this sets off every neuron in Dawn's brain. She asks Dick what he's gonna do for Christmas and he says 'I don't know'. Within hours, Dawn has dragged Hank to a Christmas tree farm, picked out the biggest tree possible, and has it strapped to the top of their truck, driving in to San Francisco.

If Rachel wants Christmas, she's going to get Christmas.

When you get up and find Dawn decorating (she dug out the Titans' old decorations, and Dick and Hank are struggling to get the tree out of the elevator) - you are excited. You rush to get the others out of bed, and immediately - Jason starts complaining. He says Christmas is stupid - he's one of those people who feels the need to point out that Jesus was actually born in the summer, and that it's a holiday 'actually made my companies just to sell you more crap'.

But when Dawn says that she needs help bringing out more of the boxes of decorations and Gar asks Jason to come and help, whipped as he is, Jason sighs and rolls his eyes, and he goes to help.

Decorating is certainly an adventure. Everyone is tripping over each other, Dawn wants the tree moved to different locations in the lounge three different times and it's only on the third try that Dick and Hank remember that Conner has super strength and he should be the one doing most of the heavy lifting.

At one point, you're up on a ladder hanging garlands and you stupidly ask Jason to 'give you a hand' - thinking that he'll hold the other end of the garland while you secure it or that he'll hand you another tack, but instead, he walks up behind you where you're standing on the ladder, very firmly and confidently puts his whole hand on your ass and says 'better?'

Gar makes everyone hot chocolate to help the decorating process along, and Jason says that the holiday is 'slightly less stupid' because he thinks the hot chocolate tastes really good.

Once all the decorations from the boxes have been put up, Rachel gets the idea that everyone should make their own custom ornament to put on the tree, and her and Dawn rush out to buy supplies for this, and while everyone is gathered around the kitchen island participating in this crafting session - it is the most genuine family moment that you have ever felt with the Titans. Everyone decorates a simple, flat piece of wood with glitter or paint to put on the tree - Gar decorated his with a green tiger wearing a Santa hat, and Jason made his a depiction of Santa Claus crashing his slay and dying - which you thought was funny and put on a central position on the three.

Gar even got the idea to put Krypto's paw in paint and stamp an ornament with his paw print so he could have one too.

(Okay, this is getting really long and rambly, so here, some quick fire hcs.)

Once Jason figures out that he can use mistletoe as an excuse to kiss people, he is infuriating about it. He will carry it around and dangle it over your head and Gar's head - you will just sigh and smack him, and Gar will blush so hard. Sometime's Gar will give Jason a kiss on the cheek if no one is looking (usually, Jason will respond to this by dodging and stealing a kiss on Gar's mouth) - and rarely, you will actually give in and kiss Jason on the lips if no one else is around.

At one point, Jason even tapes the mistletoe to his bellybutton as a 'joke' - to make you kiss his cock. (It definitely doesn't work. Ya know.)

Gar loves Christmas carols and Christmas music, and he will always play them and sing them at the top of his lungs - Jason pretends to be annoyed by it, but you have caught him singing along under his breath or mouthing the words, or even dancing a little when he thinks nobody is paying attention. But you know the annoyance is kind of real during the 5th round of Jingle Bell Rock. Gar can't help it though.

Gar is a vegan, and Jason will claim it's because he's bored - but he spends one afternoon cooking up vegan versions of several Christmas classics, like Christmas sugar cookies, and a full Christmas spread (with substitute meats that you guys both can't decide are creepy or cool) - and when Gar sees everything, he has some tears of joy in his eyes at the pure consideration of it. Turns out, Jason is actually an amazing cook. (Dick and Rachel are particularly surprised by this development.)

One night, the three of you sit down and watch a bunch of Christmas movies together. Jason finds Home Alone to be hilarious because Kevin is so brutal (and naturally, Jason is reminded of himself), and he spends most of the film commenting on how stupid the criminals are. When you watch The Grinch, Gar cries at the scene where the Grinch is bullied in school and you and Jason have to comfort him about it.

At one point, you buy you, Gar, and Jason matching ugly Christmas sweaters and Jason is adamant that he will not wear it. You are disappointed, but you put on yours anyway, and soon you hear some mumbling between Gar and Jason, including a 'please' and some grumbling on Jason's part - they come back twenty minutes later. Jason is wearing his sweater, looking stone-faced and grumpy about it, and Gar is looking entirely pleased with himself. You have no clue if sexual favours were exchanged, but when Gar moves to put a Santa hat on Jason, the effort he makes to fight Gar off about it is so lackluster.

When Dawn takes a picture of the three of you in your sweaters together, Jason flips her off - and it's one of your favourite pictures of all time.

(I could easily go on like this forever, but I'll leave it there for now.)

[almost-correct-quotes]

love bite

reverie audios, law x sweets, 500~ wordcount

contains: blood feeding, snowballing (kind of), law-typical suggestive fluff, no actual smut i promise, altair friendly

AN: literally just "what if sweets was a little bit more of a freak than in canon". also i gave them a midwestern accent on accident sorry

When their fangs punctured Law’s skin, his hand shot to the back of their neck, pushing their head even closer to his throat.

“You can- shit, sweets, that’s-” he moaned, canting his hips up against theirs. 

They growled quietly, “Stay still.”

“Yeah, got it, I- God, I’m way too into that,” he rambled.

When they removed their fangs from him, he tilted his head up even more, baring his neck.

“You can take some more, y’know…”

“Don’t wanna take too much,” they muttered.

“I know my limits. ‘Sides, I could just heal myself if you did take too much. Trust me. Bite me again.”

“You’re sure?” Their fangs were still extended, Law’s blood dripping onto their bottom lip. Fuck. 

“Yeah. Please bite me, doll. Feel like I’m gonna go insane with your fangs so close, I need it-” he cut himself off with a choked moan as they sunk back into him, a different side of his throat this time. 

They drank slow and carefully, in an utter contrast to the mess of a sorcerer under them. When they finished, instead of kissing the spot they drank from, like they usually did, they closed their mouth immediately, keeping a bit of blood they hadn’t swallowed in their mouth. 

They tilted Law’s head back down, pressing a clawed finger to his bottom lip. He opened his mouth instinctively, to be met with their tongue down his throat and his own blood forced down it. 

Law swallowed, “I- you- okay.”

“Thought you’d like that,” they laugh. 

“Y’ menace, come ‘n’ kiss me proper,” Law complained. 

The softness of the kiss they gave him, smiling against his lips, fit with the sweetness of his blood on their lips (and his, now, he realized).

“You better believe me when I say you taste good, now.”

Noticing the potential double meaning, Law groaned, “Keep sayin’ things like that, and you’ll get a second course 'f sex essence, sweets.”

“Y’know I can sense it, even if I’m not feeding on it, right? Same way I can smell your blood or tell if you’re runnin’ on less life essence than you should be,” they explained, “not that I need to, you make it damn obvious when you’re enjoyin’ yourself.”

Heat rose to Law’s face.

“Speakin’ of, you wanna do somethin’ about that?”

“I think I’d rather just pass out, to be honest,” Law said sheepishly. He’s more used to being fed on now, but it still wipes him out a bit.

They hummed. “I’m gettin’ you some water at least, first. Or- orange juice? What do humans give to blood donors?”

Law laughed, “Either’s fine, sweets.”

Still on top of Law, they propped themself up on their elbows and stretched out like a cat. At his amused expression, they said, “Gotta get my… circulation… going. Or somethin’.”

With that, they left Law to himself, hand tracing the spots they bit him, more than a little amazed at how it healed itself.

[bittyfromquotev]

Second controversial take of the day, bc apparently we're on a roll

but just with how some of the way y'all be talking, I honest to God don't blame bitty for throwing out the fact that at any point some of you fuckers could be the gore anons (which is never out of the realm of possibility, it's not hard to hide typing quirks or mimic someone else's). you act the Exact same

'bu-bu-but we don't send gore we're just-' white knighting? yeah. exactly my fucking point. the whole, "doing it for the greater good" and speaking over the actual people that want you to shut the fuck up. The Exact. Same. Thing.

With the g-anons, they do it in the name for defending solarmoon shippers by running 'fake queers' off the internet. they speak over other shippers, that explicitly tell them to shut up and fuck off.

And here you are, trying to defend the gore victims by trying to control and criticize how others chose to cope with the situation. Even though Several people including some of the victims want you to shut up and fuck off.

This isn't assumption either, this is fact. Your actions speak loud and clear all on their own, regardless of how you may try to justify them.

Learn to take a hint, that your opinion is neither wanted or asked for. it is not your place to decide what bitty should or shouldn't do. better yet, ✨it's none of your business✨

Congratulations for being a hypocrite btw and contributing to another actual problem in general fandom spaces. I don't even want to acknowledge the toxicity of unsolicited criticism, but you're doing just fine indulging in that topic all on your own aren't you?

[side note: "To that anon? Way to completely not read what I said at all." you sure do like to pick and choose what you read and complain about don't you? awfully convenient to miss the point of the whole paragraph. ironic considering you then go on to complain about bitty not seeing your dozen of points that are explicitly unwelcome on this blog. And that's not ever addressing trying to side with a harasser anon, not a good look. dare I say, blatantly obtuse if not worse.]

Seriously tho bitty, you and anyone else getting this bs (bc I doubt you're the only one rn) really should just block them the next time they try to repeat themselves. Don't matter if it's the same person, or 3 different ones. People like these are the how and why g-anons exist in the first place. This mindset is explicitly Dangerous. Which sounds extreme, but as someone who's been in more than 60+ fandoms for over 7 years, I know wtf I'm talking about. It always ends the same. Twitterhead whiteknights doing bigoted shit in the name of the greater good, no matter how well meaning, is how petty callouts come about. And when it doesn't stop immediately in its track, it snowballs and gets even worse from there - ❄

Thank you so much! Lmao I almost thought you were them because of how this ask started off but I’m glad it’s you :)

Yeah they—

They don’t seem to want to listen to me. They keep telling me the same stuff over and over and it’s funny yet irritating because I’d explained myself already (I know I’ve said this like 15 times but I need to get this point across). I do plan on blocking them if they ever try something though.

But like ❄️ said, I am allowed to cope and react to things however the fuck I want. I do my best to comfort or be there for my friends and those affected more severely, but I’m personally not gonna cry about it.

No one should speak for anyone else. I let the “friend” who abused me for 10 years speak for me a lot and it doesn’t make people feel good. It’s very invalidating and no one wants someone to speak for them.

Once again, thank you so much anon. I greatly appreciate it :)

[thedo0zyslider]

Explosions Across Lifetimes - Chapter Twenty Two: Can't Get Enough of You - 3k words

Fwhip returns to the Codlands for another day, and it is one last good moment before things start snowballing for Jimmy.

A03 Link

Playlist

A few days later, Fwhip stops by for that slime farm problem. Jimmy shows him the problem, and it’s apparently something the Count can fix though it will take a few hours. The Codfather decides to leave him to it, not wanting to get in the way. He also needs to fix up a few structures on the other side of the empire, which is more than enough to keep him bust for the time being.

And that's exactly how he spends the next few hours, working with his people to restore a few houses and a few other buildings that had started to fall into disrepair. Some were broken due to the corruption, and others were just old. But they all needed fixing regardless. Though Fwhip got down with the slime farm faster than expected, and interrupts him in the middle of replacing a few windows, a smile on the Count’s face despite the green substance all over him.

“I fixed your farm problem!” Fwhip says, stopping a little ways away from the Codfather, who just smiles at him as he walks over to meet his partner. Though he only does so after a small wave to the other codfolk he’d been working with, knowing he’d probably be a while before he could resume his work.

“Did you?” He asks, flicking a piece of slime from the half dragon's hair. “What was the problem?”

Fwhip followed his movements with an amused huff. “You just needed to add a few more hoppers and redstone dust.” He explained, pulling Jimmy’s hand away from his hair, amused by the action. “And stop that! I can get it off myself”

“But you got it all over you!” Jimmy says, flicking another piece of the green goop off his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“I know,” The Count huffs, in a tone that sounds like he’s been trying to remove the stuff for hours. “Why’d you have to pick the stickiest export ever!?”

“Didn’t mean to do that, really.” Jimmy shrugs. “Lemme help you get that off.”

“Such a gentleman!” Fwhip smiles, letting himself be led down the now familiar route to Jimmy’s small shack of a house. At some point in the short journey the blonde grabs onto his hand, and in return the Count interlocks their fingers, allowing himself to be dragged inside and towards Jimmy’s bathroom with ease.

Wordlessly, the Codfather hands him a towel. Fwhip takes it, watching as Jimmy goes to grab another one. As the Count tries his best to get it off his clothes, Jimmy goes back to trying to get it out of his hair, as he knows how much of a problem that can be. He ruffles Fwhip’s hair with the towel until he gets all the slime out, Fwhip laughing and giggling the whole time.

“Thanks!” He smiles, running a hand through his ginger locks a few times to fix it.

Jimmy takes the towels, and puts them somewhere different from the clean ones. “No problem!” He says over his shoulder. The cod waits a minute for Fwhip to say something else after that, maybe about the slime farm again, or about what he’d been doing a few minutes prior, but the Count is oddly silent.

The Codfather turns, curious, and sees his boyfriend just blinking down at his cat. Norman must’ve wandered it at some point, it seemed, and Fwhip had clearly been caught off guard by the surprise cat. Norman mews up at the strange human, and the half dragon glances towards him, a little expectantly, like he was expecting to be introduced to the furry thing sitting on the floor.

“Oh! This is Big Man Norman!” Jimmy said, picking the little cat up. Norman meowed lightly, but seemed to be okay with being held once the cod started petting him. He laid politely in Jimmy's arms, watching Fwhip as the Count walked over to the both of them.

“Hi buddy!” The half dragon smiled, and Norman started rubbing his little head against the Count’s hand. Fwhip smiled wider, and gave the cat more and more pets. That is until Norman wanted down, and Jimmy moved out of the bathroom slightly. The cat scrambles out of his owner's arms, and walks off into some other part of the house.

Jimmy watched the cat saunter away with a giggle, reminding himself to feed the little scamp soon. He stands there in his bedroom for a few seconds, maybe even a minute, waiting for his partner to follow.

Fwhip came up behind him quietly, wrapping his arms around the Codfather from behind. Jimmy smiled softly as he leaned into the contact, Fwhip’s face being buried in the crook of his neck. A low purr came from the back of his boyfriend's throat, and the blonde felt himself start to melt a little.

"You're not gonna steal the crown from me, are you?" He asked, his tone low and quiet. It was supposed to be a tease more than anything, but there was some genuine concern buried under the layers of softness. He's aware that this whole crown thing had made him a little paranoid, maybe too much so. Though he doubted Fwhip, or most of their friends, would do anything drastic to obtain it. The keyword there being most .

"No," Fwhip murmured, nuzzling his face into Jimmy’s neck. "I want the crown, but there's no fun if I get it immediately. And it would be mean."

Jimmy hummed in agreement, taking the piece of jewelry off his head. He titled it around in his hands, admiring his partner’s handy work for what has to be the millionth time at this point. It was a beautiful crown, really it was, which was probably some people’s motivation to get their hands on it.

"Besides," Fwhip added, a hint of embarrassment now in his tone. "You look quite pretty in it."

"Thanks.." Jimmy laughed softly. If he wasn’t being held right now he would have turned around and peppered his partner's face with soft kisses. But unfortunately, he was quite comfortable like this, and didn’t want to give that up.

A second later he reached up, gently taking the crown off the top of his head. Fwhip stopped nuzzling into Jimmy’s neck, instead choosing to watch whatever his boyfriend was doing. The half dragon’s gaze followed him, curious as Jimmy turned the item over in his hands for the first of many times that night.

"Which one's my gem?" The cod asked, eyeing each rock on the crown carefully.

"The color coordination wasn't enough?" Fwhip teased lightly, and the Codfather could practically feel the fond roll of his partner's eyes.

"Pix doesn't have enough colors for his vigil, so you don't have enough for this crown. Probably." He reasoned, trying to glance at Fwhip’s face from where it rested. The Count made a huff of faux annoyance, rolling his eyes one final time.

Fwhip took Jimmy’s hand gently in his, turning the crown until it faced what seemed to be the right direction. "It's that one." He pointed at a lime green gem, making a clink sound as he tapped it gently with a claw. A claw the cod was always forgetting he had, to be honest.

"Where’s yours?" He asked, glancing at any sort of stone with a reddish hue, since that seemed to be his partner's main color and all.

"The other side," Fwhip spun the item around again. "The red one, on the right, next to Gem's….gem"

"A gem for Gem." Jimmy giggled. "Is Sausage's to the left of yours?" He assumed the stone for Mythland’s ruler would be by the twins, due to their closeness. It was hard to imagine them as anything but a trio, and the same applied to their gemstones on the crown.

"No, that's Pix's. Sausage's is here." The crown was turned again in his fish-like hands. "It's next to Pearl's." Fwhip pointed at yet another green gem, this one a darker shade than Jimmy’s. "The other one on this side is Joey" The Count motioned towards a more purple colored gem as he spoke, then moved onto the next rock without further prompting.

"And on your side," Jimmy let his partner continue to explain, a soft smile etched into his face. Fwhip had clearly been itching to talk about it, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he talked and his voice giddy as he rambled. "The blue one is Scott’s, and the light pink one is Katherine's."

"You put Mine next to Scotts," Jimmy muttered, curiosity sparking in the back of his mind. "Why so?"

“I put them where it felt right, I guess.” Fwhip shrugged. Jimmy nodded, staring at the little trio of gems. He guessed it was kinda right, in some way, to put him and Scott next to each other like that. As Jimmy pondered that, the Count briefly paused his explanation, then resumed once he was sure the other had had enough time for his thoughts.

"And the last side has Shrub," The crown was turned over one last time so they could view its fourth and final side. "And then Lizzie and Joel's are next to each other." The cod nodded, taking a mental note of that, and probably looking quite intensely at the gemstones in question.

The whole time Jimmy had been making many and many mental notes of everything Fwhip said, memorizing which gem belonged to who and what color it was the best he could. The engineer had made this crown for him and their fellow rulers, and Jimmy wanted to sear every detail into his memory. He was so enthusiastic about it as well, he cared so much about that little crown, which made the cod want to memorize it even more.

As Jimmy did that, Fwhip took the crown gently from his, and placed it atop his head once more. “There” The Count hummed, tugging Jimmy closer towards the bed. “Back where it belongs.” The blonde laughed, allowing himself to be pulled on his head bed, Fwhip joining him on it; every movement being gentle and soft enough to melt him entirely.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Fwhip muttered, moving so they sat face to face.

“Am I now?” He laughed, hands coming up to cup his cheeks. Fwhip looked into his eyes, gaze so full of affection it made Jimmy feel like he was going to explode from it all.

“You are!” The Count said, squishing his face slightly. “You have cute little freckles, and your eyes are big and beautiful and you’re strong and muscular and handsome and-”

“I get it, I get It!” Jimmy cut the other off with a laugh, placing his hands on top of Fwhip’s. He moved them off his face, giggling warmly from all the flattering words. A few seconds later he was being drawn in for a soft kiss, and the blonde sighed into it instantaneously.

They shared a few more kisses, longer ones, ones that gradually got more heated, until Jimmy was straddling Fwhip, then the half dragon's back hit the sheets; the blonde beginning to pull him downwards as they pulled away. The Count smiled up at him as they connected their lips once again, Jimmy doing more than simply pull back this time.

“We haven’t done this in a while, have we?” Fwhip purred in amusement, smiling as Jimmy’s kisses trailed swiftly down to his jawline, stubble somewhat unpleasantly brushing against the cod's lips. The Count almost frantically slipped his scarf off, pulling his collar to the side in anticipation.

"No, we haven't." Jimmy muttered, lightly biting down his partner's upper neck. Fwhip shivered at the action, causing the cod to smirk against soft skin. He hummed as he continued his work, gradually beginning to leave more open mouthed kisses to his boyfriend's throat. Fwhip whined beneath him, hands starting to trail upwards slowly. Jimmy made a small noise as they ended up tugging at his hair gently, now scratching his scalp as well; which earned the Count another hickey placed on his skin, Jimmy pulling his lips away with a wet popping sound.

The half dragon pulled him closer as the kisses began to trail further downwards, having stretched his neck out towards the cod at one point. Jimmy hummed, now sucking another bruise into Fwhip’s collarbone, slowly inching towards his chest area. Under him the Count made a muffled groaning noise, claws tugging at Jimmy’s hair again.

A few kisses later he felt the claws stop scratching his head, and he frowned, already missing the touch. Fwhip's sounds had quieted as well, but Jimmy kept pressing kisses further down his chest, still able to hear some more breathy growls rumbling in the half dragon's throat. He only stopped when he felt a weight lift from his head, lips making another popping sound as he left the last hickey unfinished.

Jimmy pulled back quickly and saw a guilty looking man beneath him, one hand definitely on the crown right now. Fwhip, knowing damn well he'd been caught, slowly let go of the thing and moved his hands away, until the accessory sat nicely on the cod's head once more.

"You're quite cheeky, aren't you?" Jimmy huffed, pulling away until he sat on the other’s lap again. Fwhip, face still nicely flushed, just smirked at him.

"I had to try, just once!" He smiled, watching as the cod adjusted the crown slightly.

In response Jimmy leaned down again, smashing their lips together. The Count made a startled sound, but kissed back regardless, hands trailing over his face once more. This kiss wasn't very long, only going for a few seconds, but both of them leaned into it while it lasted.

“If you’re gonna do that to me I’ll just have to try again!” The Count muttered cheekily against his lips, panting just slightly.

“Then I’ll never kiss you ever, never for the rest of time.” The blonde countered, and Fwhip gave up on his crown stealing schemes with a small pout. Obviously getting kissed stupid for the rest of his life was of a higher priority to the half dragon, just as Jimmy thought it should be, because he was a great kisser after all.

Once they pulled away a final time Jimmy rolled off Fwhip, until he sat next to Fwhip on the bed. A loud purr came from his boyfriend's throat, the Codfather leaning against his shoulder and burying himself fully into the warmth of another person.

“Hi!” Fwhip exclaimed quietly, a quick kiss being pressed into blonde hair as he did so. As he spoke, Norman also jumped onto the bed; the little cat probably having been tired of being alone. Jimmy didn’t know if the Count’s little greeting was directed at him or his cat, but scratched behind his big man’s ears regardless.

Norman settles down next to them after a moment, stretching out lazily onto the covers. He and Fwhip seems to be purring in unison, the latter seeming entirely unaware of the fact. Jimmy thought it was cute as hell, but wasn’t going to mention it. Because then Fwhip would say it’s not cute and then stop doing it.

“Don’t you have a forge to run or something?” Jimmy mumbled, the noise sounding a little sleepy. He leaned his head against Fwhip’s chest, the other shaking his head in response.

“Can a man not cuddle for a few minutes?” He asked, arms slipping around the cod’s waist just as they had been earlier.

“Not when you’re a busy man.” The blonde says in response, knowing that if they cuddle any longer they're both going to sleep and not get anything done; on top of running their sleep schedules.

“Wow, you don’t want my cuddles. I can’t believe it.” Fwhip says, withdrawing himself from the cod. Jimmy suddenly does not want to stop cuddling and be productive, the familiar warmth of his partner leaving him far too quickly. “I never said that!” The cod protested, trying to lean against Fwhip for as long as possible.

“Sure orchid, sure.” The Count teases, going to stand from the bed. Jimmy makes a small huff, now a little cross that his stupid plan had actually worked. He was expecting it to not, in all honesty, and look where that had gotten them. Because now it is time for Fwhip to leave the house, maybe touch up some redstone on the slime farm, and finally head back to his empire. Though Jimmy supposes it’s okay, if he gets to go help with more stuff around his own kingdom afterwards.

The day after that, Jimmy loses the crown to Scott. Which is fine, really it is. He knew the crown was going to be stolen eventually., and it was no surprise that Rivendell’s ruler had snagged it when he saw the chance.

What actually bothered him was a few days later, when he lost the Codfather head. Jimmy didn’t know why it was taken away from him, it had just been taken. The Council had said the cod themselves had deemed him unworthy, whatever the hell that meant. When the cod speak, it is typically not questioned, and the orders are always followed.

So all Jimmy could do was sit there, and stare at Caleb’s poor, sympathetic face in disbelief as the Codfather head was taken from him. The very head he’d tried so hard to protect, the one he’d freed a demon over, was just taken away like that.

He had to prove himself worthy of it. The Council wouldn’t tell him why, or how, just that he had to prove himself worthy to wear the head again. Not be a leader again, just earn the head back. But the head was almost synonymous with the leadership of his empire, so in a way they were still telling him he was not worthy to lead.

Now Jimmy stays in his house, some stupid codboy head on top of his head instead, pacing and brainstorming what he could do to be “worthy” again. Everytime he leaves he feels the stares on his back, the confusion in his people's gazes. Confusion he knows he cannot provide an answer too. So he stays inside, and wonders, and dreads and dreads and dreads how he’s going to explain this.

Maybe he doesn’t have too, though, maybe he can just not say anything, and eventually he’ll get the Codfather head back. And then everything will be fine and it will all go back to normal. Yeah, yeah that sounds like a good plan.

[cleradinel]

I'm really live and let live with hcs and theories, but i think i just really don't get the bi Mike thing. Because i keep seeing people say Mike is bi but when i actually see the posts explaining why (which is Really rare too, it's usually just treated as 'clearly obvious' which is also interesting) there's always scenes getting ignored. Things like Mike kissing El and obviously caring about her immensely get mentioned, but then the sibling and cousin coding (even right before their first kiss) just gets ignored. "Boys only" isn't worth analyzing, it's just wording (but Will saying "a day free of girls" is still obviously gay coding). Mike not kissing El back in s3 gets acknowledged but him pulling her hands off his face at the beginning of the season doesn't get mentioned. Everyone having posters of people they're attracted to (Nancy, Steve, etc) on their walls is just accepted as fact but Mike only having posters of buff guys still means he's into girls. And so on

What's even wilder is that I've seen multiple people claim they Don't think Mike was ever into El but still think he's bi which is just. ?. I don't get it. Because outside of El he hasn't shown anything you could even Pretend is attraction to girls. Canonically he's had little contact with girls because they "think he's gross", didn't care for Max when she showed up, didn't care for the dragonslayer princess or Phoebe Cates, doesn't have any female fictional characters he admires, AND didn't get Argyle falling for pretty girl Eden. El is really the only thing you could sort of try to justify any attraction to girls in any capacity (and even that's rocks in canon)

Bi Mike just confuses me because all posts arguing in favour of it always ignore certain scenes. And yeah obviously, they have to it's because you just can't explain them from the bi angle. It's just odd to me that so many people argue it's equally as canon supported as gay Mike when there's multiple instances that have to be overlooked for the theory to hold up. Not trying to sound rude, hcs are obviously cool, i just don't get why bi Mike is argued to be canon so much when the show contradicts it multiple times (coming from a bi person btw)

i'm a live and let live too ! i'm no headcanon police and i am nobody to tell you what to do or how to think. i like pointing stuff out i find interesting and if those things i'm pointing out (and many others have pointed out) leads me to believe wholeheartedly mike is gay, i'll allow myself to be passionate about that. (get heated ? sometimes i admit) (because i think it's an important thing to take into account when discussing him/elmike/byler/the narrative/where we've been and where we're going yadda yadda yadda)

i've seen bi mike posts that are more on the analysis side, but then those posts go on to say something like mike wasn't regretting telling will to dance with the girl (i don't think mike was like "no come back i am so consciously in love with you" at all, but more so "well this has me feeling In Ways i don't want to describe or think about) at the snowball, or that the ending of s3 is just solely about him being sad to see el and will go (i agree he is obviously sad about that, but literally what were those two back to back byler and elmike scenes about, considering their nature and content, if not mike getting confirmation he wants to date his dude bestie ? which i really, really think is the conclusion to his "i have an idea, boys only" moment) so again, even if we're both analyzing, we're truly not analyzing in the same way. i can't take those things as proof coming from a show that keeps hammering it over our heads that we have to think deeper and pull back the curtain. they don't want you to think of these scenes as nothing more than they appear on surface level. these are ga kinds of interpretations of these scenes. most of them saw a mike sad to be bidding his friends goodbye, you on the other hand, if you're trying to decipher what mike is thinking and what he's about, should probably be seeing something else.

everything you listed applying to both mike and will and definitely not to lucas and dustin (these two especially as way closer in age than like. steve and have way more scenes together) is something you should notice but alas- pretty girl eden was there to mock love at first though. even jonathan doesn't care for that haha i'll have to disagree on that being gay mike proof. if anything it's mike is a dirty little liar monologuing a lie proof.

i'll leave you with this : headcanons are cool, i don't care what you do with them. i hope you're having fun (i truly am) but *i* disagree it's as supported by canon as the gay hc. i, as in me myself and i, and if you disagree with me that is completely fine. you should be and feel free to do whatever you want with mike when you spin him around in your head for fun trying to understand who he is. but i will never not be confused by bi mike, as i think it is quite obvious he is gay.

[cyncerity]

hi everyone! little bit of an update!!

to those of you waiting for the next part in the store shifter au: it’s almost done, i swear.

the rest of this is a lengthy explanation cause y’all know me, i can’t write something short. tldr will be bolded at the bottom if you don’t wanna read all this.

i wanna explain something real quick: in my early years of middle school, i was into creepypasta, which pipelined into Marble Hornets, which pipelined into a ton of other slenderverse series. If you don’t know what that is, it’s an ARG with an emphasis on characters being stalked or hunted by Slenderman. All of them are really really good in their own way and do interesting things with not only Slendy, but adding their own new big bad’s and lore and i’d highly recommend watching one if you haven’t yet. (i may make a separate post about which you should watch based on what kind of content you most enjoy cause i really want to indoctrinate more people into this)

My favorite slenderverse at the time had a very big emphasis on early November, specifically November 11th. So i started to have a little tradition of watching those videos every November 11th even after the hyperfixation had faded just for a bit of nostalgia.

Fast forward to now- it has snowballed to the point where every year for over half a decade now, November 11th rolls around and I am thrown violently headfirst back into my slenderverse phase. I cannot control it. I’ll be like “ok this year i’ll be normal about it, after this long, surely watching one video won’t spiral me again” and it always fucking does. No other hyperfixation i’ve ever had has functioned on a calendar cycle so idk wtf this is. This is the 6th year of this. I cannot escape.

So yeah, per how it’s been since middle school, November-January my main hyperfixation will be slenderverse. It could be shorter, it could be longer, but that’s the general pattern i’ve noticed over the years. After that i’ll pretty much be back to normal.

Don’t get me wrong, i’m not taking a 3 month hiatus or anything. I promise i will do my best to get the store shifter au part out before fucking 2024. But if you’ve sent me an ask recently and i’ve ignored it, i’m genuinely so sorry, but i can’t force myself to work on new stuff right now when mcyt g/t isn’t my main interest. I’ll do my best to get to it eventually when the hyperfixation comes back a bit more, i do read and process and think about every single ask i receive and it always makes my day when i get a new ask, but yeah. For the next few months i’m probably only gonna be working on and posting stuff that’s been in the works, are from asks that we’re given to me like a year ago and already have wips in progress to answer them, or art that i just haven’t given you yet.

on the other hand, if you’re reading this and you like creepypasta or slenderverse stuff, i’ve created what i think is literally my 5th fucking blog! @cynningly <-i’ve been spamming this for like 4 days cause i refuse to be normal about slenderverse stuff, but follow there if you want horror stuff and so far just a bunch of really shitty edits of internet arg sexyman villains. Also yes all of my blogs have to have “cyn” in the name somewhere, that’s how you can tell it’s me lmao

tldr:

my hyperfixations switched up again, im really into slenderverse (slenderman-centric args) at the moment and likely will be till January. This is a cycle that’s been going on for years now. made an alt for it -> @cynningly

I will still be working to post mcyt g/t stuff, but only stuff that’s a wip or has been in the works for a while. to anyone who has sent an ask recently: sorry, but i can’t take on making new stuff when my focus isn’t purely on mcyt rn. I will do my best to get to it eventually and if you’re one of the people who’s sent a story request or ask recently i truly, truly appreciate it. y’all make my day. but, yeah, that’s what’s going on with me lol

[bluegrasssax]

I thought I'd give an intro to me and the fics I've written (Merlin x Arthur, E, AO3). I started late 2021 after I found writing helped me through _stuff_

This is in the order I wrote my stories, my thoughts, what I liked about it and what I wish I'd done better.

For most of the fics I started with a canon character trait for each of Merlin and Arthur that I carried through the story (that they either both come to embrace or overcome), I find this works well in keeping to the og character vibe

(No major spoilers)

1. A Fall We Can't Forget

Character archetypes: lost Merlin, naive Arthur

My likes: I love opportunities to be open about feelings without the pressure of consequences, hence dreams. I loved writing Merlin's Druid dream, and that Arthur could appreciate him without fear that way.

Even better if: This was my first fic and I definitely made some classic blunders! I feel I rushed things, and there were many other dream sequences I wish I'd managed to sneak in!

2. Wingless

Character archetypes: guilty Merlin, protective Arthur

My likes: Wings. I mean, come on! That's just cool! I'm honoured someone took the time to make art following reading the fic, it warmed my heart <3

Even better if: Again, I think I rushed into the reveal. I'd have liked better pacing especially in the last few chapters.

3. Parchments

Character archetypes: denial Merlin, self sacrificing Arthur

My likes: similar to the dreams, an opportunity to talk without repercussion. I liked this version of Gwen a lot, and I'm a huge fan of Samhain midnight shenanigans. Also poor Gaius. Sorry man.

Even better if: this is one of my shorter ones. I think it would have been neat to have an Arthur POV through to explain some of his actions too. Alas. Maybe a sequel.

4. Take Your Pain Away

Character archetypes: self sacrificing Merlin, dutiful Arthur

My likes: oh boy this one was a labour of love. I love soulmates, and I thought the dynamic of one person knowing way before the other way good in this case. The added layer of pain transference was for flavour and it snowballed on me lol, but in a good way I think.

Even better if: honestly, I have the fewest Gripes about this one, though I wish I'd taken a bit of a different route with Edith. There could have been more bullshit with that, but maybe it was angsty enough already.

5. Dead To Me

Character archetypes: powerful/unfortunate Merlin, growing Arthur

My likes: actually my favourite story of the lot I think, just because it's a different flavour of "destiny" than I'd considered before. It was a fun challenge to develop intimacy with no physical contact!

Even better if: I liked what I did with Gaius, but I know it wasn't necessarily a popular characterisation of the poor bloke - so if done again I'd like to have made his motivations clearer.

6. Passing Through

Character archetypes: innocent Merlin, whimsical Arthur

My likes: it was nice to have the "love at first sight" sort of vibe with this one, even though I tend to be more of an enemy to lovers fan myself! Merlin's magic felt so natural in this one and I'm really chuffed with how it came out. He is a part of magic as much as it is a part of him, and so it's no wonder it's overwhelming sometimes.

Even better if: I initially planned a bigger blow up with the Arthur reveal, but it didn't quite fit. Maybe in another life. This one could have handled a bit more smut imo.

7. The Satyr and The Prince

Character archetypes: outsider Merlin, conflicted Arthur

My likes: I'm a big fan of body horror - and while this is no xenomorph situation it was interesting to play with a tiny bit of gore. I'm proud of the inner conflict Arthur had, and I hope it came across well.

Even better if: as with most of my fics it seems, I feel I rushed it a bit. My initial plan was more drawn out, more angst (somehow), but I got impatient! Also, didn't get the chance to include any sex! It just didn't fit in naturally without seeking forced :/

Now?

And my current fic is on going, so I won't comment just yet on it. Only know that archetypes revolve around Wonderlust Merlin and Awed Arthur

If you've read any of these I'd love your honest feed back on it - this is a hobby I really enjoy, and I'd like to keep on it for a bit longer!

Also, let me know how this Tumblr thing works, I'm floundering lads XD