#it really helps motivate me
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Solitaire
The long drive from the airport passed by with a dizzying blur and Joost found himself barely taking in the scenery of the snowy streets, preferring instead to be captivated by the man in the back of the limo with him.
Käärijä. The upstart his own ex-boss had been complaining about not even a year ago. This was his savior and temporary bodyguard. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
‘He’s so much different than I pictured…’ he thought to himself. The man couldn’t be older than his early thirties, he was expecting some grizzled Fin with hard eyes and an even harsher demeanor, not an eccentrically stylish man with eyeliner, silver piercings and a bowl cut…
But the man, for all his oddities, was surprisingly warm.
He patched Joost up without question, risked his life and the lives of his people just to get the Dutchman out of danger. Joost doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand even in the slightest. He barely has a chance to process anything from the last twenty-four hours.
“Um,” he softly clears his voice, “I was gonna ask, where is a good place for me to lie low for a while? I have some cash I can use to pay rent…”
Käärijä looks at him with a puzzled expression, Joost shrinks a little under the stare.
“Why you need to rent? You coming to my place of course.”
Joost’s eyebrows shoot up and he nearly drops his glass of brandy.
“Wha-ah wait, I couldn’t do that, I would be bringing danger directly to you if I’m found out!”
The other man snorts a laugh, his eyes glinting with amusement.
“You think I scared of old Dutch gangsters? They are afraid of me! Besides, you try and go into hiding and they probably find you anyway.” He shrugs nonchalantly, as if he hasn’t just declared war on the entire Western Mafia.
“They always gonna find you, but they are stupid to try and take you while I’m watching,” he grins, those sharp canines giving his expression a vicious edge.
“Not the first time they try and cross me, now their men underneath a frozen swamp in pieces.”
Joost swallows, he forgot for a moment this isn’t just an excitable newcomer with a deathwish, he’s the Nordic Crime Lord for a reason. You don’t get far in the Underworld if you can’t get your hands dirty and bare your teeth.
“Still…it’s an imposition. I can’t in good conscience accept more help from yo-“
“Shh! Enough.” He silences Joost with a sharp word. “I say you are coming with me, you are staying at my compound. It is safest place in Finland I promise.”
Käärijä leans forward and fixes his gaze on Joost, much softer than before.
“Tommy doesn’t vouch for a lot of people. I hear you take two million from your former boss. I don’t know why you did it, maybe you need the money, but I do know a clever money man when I meet one.”
He smiles, he looks almost too sweet and genuine to have just been talking about butchered people and tossing their remains in a swamp.
“It take a lot of guts to do what you did Mr. Klein. We need people like you in the Union, if not as members, than at least allies.”
Joost drops his gaze to the ground.
“I didn’t steal the money for myself,” he says under his breath, ‘Am I really going to admit this right now?’
“What you do with it?”
“I emptied sixteen accounts and forwarded it over to INTERPOL, the two million is what the investigation is willing to discuss publicly.”
He looks up into Käärijä’s eyes and almost bashfully admits it.
“The total sum is around two Billion.”
<><><>
The rest of the journey was spent in silence, Käärijä seemed to adopt a more thoughtful demeanor as he no doubt was processing the depth of Joost’s gambit. He doesn’t blame the man, it still sounds absolutely absurd when he says it out loud.
Absurd, dangerous, stupid…
But does he regret it?
The scenery changes and it’s a while before Joost realizes they aren’t in Helsinki proper anymore. His abysmal grasp of the Finnish language isn’t helping as they pass sign after sign, the only one slightly recognizable is a larger sign displaying the name ‘Vantaa’.
Käärijä must have caught his puzzled look, as the man is beaming with pride when Joost turns to face him again.
“My city, my rules.”
Joost manages a shy smile of his own.
“I’ve always wanted to see Finland…didn’t think it would be like this of course.”
The gangster chuckles, Joost is caught off guard by the casual openness of it all.
“No worries, you gonna have a good time, a lot of fun things around here!”
“Have a good time fearing for my life you mean?” He means it in a joking way, but the concern on Käärijä’s face is evident.
“Hey, I promise you I keep you safe okay? I don’t break promises, and if I do? You can steal my money, I give you 10 seconds head start.” He winks and Joost can’t help but smile at the man, for someone supposedly so dangerous, he jokes around a lot.
A little while later the vehicle descends deeper into the city, the sky had quickly fallen dark and the twinkling lights of the streets and buildings illuminate the snowy walkways. The people are scarce on the streets, the occasional gaggle of pub-goers making their way around town seem unaffected by the cold and icy night.
“Here,” Käärijä says, tapping the glass of the window and gesturing outside. “This my place.”
Joost looks out the window at an imposing high rise building, towering twelve stories at least above the snow covered streets; It’s bright blue lighting casts a cold glow over the block, it’s massive, illuminated and worst of all, highly visible.
This…this is the hideout?!
The Finnish gangster grins and before Joost has a moment to process his now increasingly troubling situation, he’s being ushered out of the back of the car and into the frigid wintery night, up the short flight of stairs to the entrance where another bald gentleman in a black suit is waiting to open the door and welcome them inside.
His eyes adjust to the bright lights of the…lobby? The floors are a white marble and the walls equally as stark. Aside from a couple of comfortable and trendy looking leather couches, the ground floor is empty of any decorative features. At the back of the large room is a double set of silver elevator doors and sat in front of them is a concierge-type of desk. Its matte black surface stands out against the stark white room as does the figure sitting behind the desk.
Another bald man…could they be triplets? No, on further inspection Joost realizes they all seem to resemble each other, but not perfectly, not identically.
Brothers?
Joost startles and lets out an undignified yelp as the bald man who let them through the door grabs his shoulders and begins patting him down without a word.
“Hey! What are-“
“You really should have done this before he got in the car, Jere…”
Another presence startles him further causing the bald man to squeeze his shoulder threateningly.
“Be still.” The man growls. Joost freezes.
His attention is drawn back to a tutting noise, a taller blond man casually strolls up to the three, his hands in the pockets of his navy blue suit pants. He’s wearing a relaxed style shirt in crisp white and sports an easy grin. Around his neck is an expensive looking black camera, the man’s face looks…similar to-
“Jakko, relax. I don’t think Jere would let a spree shooter in the building, no matter how much of an air head he is.”
“Fuck off Mikke,” Käärijä snarls beside him, petulantly crossing his arms. “I know what I am doing.”
“Don’t let him fool you,” the blonde man winks at Joost and holds out his hand expectantly. “It’s lovely to meet you Mr. Klein, I’m Mikke, the boss’s older brother, welcome to the Union headquarters.”
The man grasps his hand for a firm albeit friendly greeting just as the bald man, Jakko apparently, digs out the meager belongings Joost had somewhat hidden in his suit’s inner pocket.
“H-Hey! That’s-“
He’s doesn’t have time to react before his wallet, phone and little vial of pills are passed off to Käärijä.
“We get you set up with secure phone card yes?” He says matter-of-factly, checking the edges of the device for any obvious tampering or bugging. “You smart to not turn it on yet.”
“Thanks I guess, but-“
“Mr Klein,” the blond man interrupts. “Look over here.”
Joost does, and is for the moment blinded by a flash of white light, having had his photo taken by the man’s black camera completely unexpectedly.
“Hey, wha-“
“For your fake ID, we’ll have it ready for you by tomorrow, also we can get you anything else document-wise within the next three days so please let me or any of the staff know! Good to meet you!” And without another word, the blond man is gone out the door behind him.
What the fuck is happening?!
“Come, let’s get upstairs okay? We have a lot of things to do before the night is over.” Käärijä says to him, passing his phone back but holding onto the wallet and pills.
He doesn’t have a moment to breathe or process anything as they make their way over to the elevators, a quick nod from the bald man at the front desk relays some unspoken information to the mafia boss and the sound of the elevator dinging echos in the empty lobby.
Loading into the elevator, Joost takes in the panel of floor numbers . Thirteen floors in total, one labeled as a basement beneath the building, the top floor button has a number pad next to it, off limits to anyone without the code.
“Fifty Euros? That’s all you have?” Käärijä asks in a shocked tone, he’s digging through Joost’ wallet now. “You say you have money for rent? This not enough!”
Joost moves to yank the wallet out of the Fins hand but one look from Jakko behind his dark shades and his hand lowers. He still resolves to clear his throat and holds out his palm in a gesture of polite request.
“May I please have my wallet back? There isn’t anything dangerous in there I promise, I shredded my ID and bank cards. I was planning on fencing some information for additional funds.”
Käärijä cocks a disbelieving eyebrow at that as he pulls out the only other thing in Joost’s wallet, an old folded up Polaroid.
“Wait! Please don’t-“ he begs, the gangster takes one look at Joost’s face and his desperate tone must have struck something, because the man is carefully tucking the photo back in and returning his wallet and phone.
“Sorry, Mikke was right I should have checked sooner.” His tone is apologetic and Joost sighs, pocketing his phone and wallet again.
“It’s…it’s fine, really. I understand you can’t be too careful in this business. And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” He offers a shy smile, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Käärijä pats him on the shoulder and the elevator dings to announce their arrival to the eleventh floor, the silver double doors parting to reveal new space.
The space is huge, penthouse sized with clean looking floors and expensive, elegant furnishings. The lighting is studio style with the sliders able to accommodate whatever level of visibility is needed, for now it’s a soft glow that doesn’t strain the eyes. The windows are large and have a breathtaking view of the cityscape below, there is a full sized kitchen, an alcove off to side where the bedroom and bathroom must reside, a comfortable looking leather couch, a desk, dinner table and chairs, a frankly ridiculously large flatscreen tv…
It’s…very nice.
“Here it is!” Käärijä claps his gloved hands together and practically drags Joost into the space, his excitement evident. “We getting you a new laptop and there is plenty of food if you are hungry, oh! Here is the bedroom, you have a great view of the river, we get your phone working tomorrow don’t worry-“
Joost can’t help but sputter in amusement a little at the man’s energetic enthusiasm, for a moment he forgets he’s being hunted by the most dangerous gangsters in all of Western Europe and instead lets himself be whisked away by the gangster. He forgets he’s in the company of the man upheaving one hundred years of underworld tradition, he forgets, as he looks out the window of his new bedroom at the glittering lights of the city below, dots of yellow and gold reflecting off the snowy cityscape. He nearly gasps at the beauty in the night.
“You want to hang onto these?” Käärijä asks from behind him, Joost turns and sees the man holding his little bottle of pills, a soft yet sad look on his face.
“Oh, I…I guess I should.” Joost stammers, staring down at the two little pills. He nearly forgot he had these. His just-in-case. Last resort.
“You know,” Käärijä says quietly, taking a second to choose his words wisely. “I hope you can be comfortable here. I am sorry this all happening.”
“But my place is right above, you can use call button by elevator if you need anything, okay?”
Joost feels almost guilty in this moment, it’s obvious Käärijä knows what is in the bottle but he won’t say it aloud. The man has risked his life for him, taken him in and is using all his collected resources to protect him. And here Joost is taking back the bottle.
Like he would thank the man with the gift of his corpse.
“Um,” Joost begins, taking it all in. “I really do want to thank you. I don’t have…many friends out there, at least not many who would go out of their way to help me like this…”
You don’t have any friends anymore, you robbed them blind and put a target on your head.
“So if there is anything I can do to repay you, please let me know. I don’t want to just take something without returning in kind.”
Käärijä looks into his eyes and a smile blossoms on his face though the sadness in his eyes stays. He squeezes Joost’s hand, the bottle of pills a barrier between them but the warmth in there radiating through the leather glove he wears. Joost can’t help but blush a little.
“The only thing you need to do is relax now, we gonna take care of this okay? Tomorrow I give you actual tour of the place, we get your phone secure and get you ID card.” He gives Joost’s hand one last squeeze and then he’s heading towards the door, Jakko standing vigilantly by the elevator waiting for him.
Joost watches him go, the bottle still clenched in his hand. The glass is warm as is his palm.
The man gives one last wave goodbye before the elevator doors close and it begins to descend, leaving Joost in the quiet of his new residence.
He takes a minute to let it all sink in. In twenty-four hours, his life has completely shattered and was simultaneously reconstructed in an instant. From the moment he ended the phone call with Tommy, his heart hasn’t stopped pounding and the eventual adrenaline drain finally begins to make his body tremble.
He needs to sit down.
He all but collapses on the bed, his bed, with the dark blue duvet cover and soft looking white pillows and stared at the ceiling, feeling the manic fight-or-flight instinct dissolving in his blood.
Minutes passed, maybe hours. Joost’s mind calms and he takes in his surroundings properly. There is a bedside table with a small reading lamp, next to it is an ashtray with a pack of unopened cigarettes and a lighter.
It’s his usual brand.
He should probably be more concerned about that, how could Käärijä know that? If Tommy is their only mutual contact, a man he has only ever communicated with long distance, who did Käärijä have in place to know this information?
He’s too tired to care as he reaches over and opens the pack, shrugging off his suit jacket and carelessly tossing it on the floor. Lighting up a cigarette, he stares at the bandage on his hand, the non-functioning phone on the bed, the little bottle of pills…
The photo is old and creased, the edges of the Polaroid turning yellow with age. There is a skinny boy with a head of bright blond hair and a huge smile on his face, his front left tooth missing, his second baby tooth to go that year. His glasses are busted on one side, held together with tape and willpower alone. He sports a striped polo shirt that has grass stains all over it, a result of his recent roughhousing in the field behind his home. Behind him is a man giving holding up two fingers behind the boy’s head, a mocking bunny ears gesture and a jovial expression on his face. He shares the same jawline as the kid, same smile and same joy.
Joost exhales a plume of smoke and looks out into the darkness of the night, the sea of lights below seemed miles away.
What have I gotten myself into now?
<><><>
Hey! I am now posting this story on ao3! Come check it out and leave a comment if you like!
#my art#kidvoodoo#my writing#käärijä#jere pöyhönen#joost klein#jeest#jeest infection#bojan cvjetićanin#bojere#tommy cash#käsh#mafia au#Jere has all the boyfriends but this will focus mostly on the budding relationship of him and Joost <3#thank you for all the kind messages and comments#it really helps motivate me
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Basically, my philosophy around disability fakers is: I would rather a thousand people fake a disability than have one disabled person suffer without care, aids, compassion, or any help.
#disability#disability advocacy#and there's a difference not many people seem to recognize between faking and realizing you don't have [x] problem...#...such as realizing you don't have [x] disorder because it is instead [y] disorder...#...or you haven't completely understood your care needs/your symptoms/what helps you...#...and some people see ANY change in your understanding of your disability as proof of maliciously faking...#...when i suppose in my personal experience people don't *maliciously* fake disability...#...i'm not saying it could never happen but that i don't think it's the *only* thing motivating people called fakers#i just think (like most everything) this is complex and nuanced because it's a *human* experience#like for me personally i /know/ i still have a lot to learn about my disabilities...#...like... i realized recently that my hands shouldn't be in AGONY when warm water is ran over them when it's SLIGHTLY cold inside or out...#...and i realized that i likely have a Noticable limb difference that needs checking out. does this sound like i'm faking...#...or that maybe i just didn't really explore my own needs and body because of a variety of factors?#i can assure you it is because i haven't really thought before about how i deserved to understand how to best help myself
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What do you mean I’m a bit late for Janus’ big day? Of course not, how could you say such a thing! I definitely didn’t forget all about it in my absence and only get reminded in the incorrect quotes video live chat; that’s not like me at all ;]
Anyways I decided to dress our sassy snake in some different outfits I think he’d like. He seems like the type to get all dolled up on his birthday and it goes with Thomas posting pics in outfits inspired by the sides on their appreciation days!
@thatsthat24
#sanders sides#janus sanders#ts janus#thomas sanders#sanders sides fanart#my hoard#I’ve returned!#the newest asides came out and I remembered how much I love it#so I’m hyperfixated again and I’ve not now peace since#it is nice to actually finish something again tho#I’ve been pretty busy working lately and now I’m starting to pack to move into my first apartment!#so not much time to really sit down and draw#and when I do have time I can’t get the motivation to actually draw anything#I want to get better about posting stuff on here#(even though it feels like I’m just dreaming into the void a lot)#even just silly little things or rough sketches I’ll never finish#I hope it’ll help me continue to draw and make things again#I forgot how nice it is#anyways if you’ve read this far thanks#have a cookie :] 🍪
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Just some words I've been needing to hear for a few weeks now and once I finally wrote them down, I thought maybe there were other people who might need to hear them too ❤️
You don't need to be anyone's favorite writer for your writing to be good.
The worth of your writing is not measured by whether or not you're included in fic recs or the amount of comments/asks you get.
Your works don't need to be recognized as some of The fics of the fandom to be good or worth reading.
'Popular' writers in your fandom are also just writers (and humans!!) : you don't need to impress or be noticed by them to have a place in your fandom. Fandom should be fun so don't let your brain ruin it with a misplaced sense of competition <3
You don't need to post a fic every week to be considered a writer. You don't need to write every week to be a writer. There is no limited places in fandom: come and go as you want and as life allows you to. Post when you feel like it, there is no trend to surf on to stay 'relevant' as a fic writer or a content creator. Fandom will always wait for you.
Your writing is good, and the more you write, the more you find your style, the better it gets.
Your writing made someone's day. Your writing is helping the fandom stay alive. Your writing should make you happy, and that happiness should not be proportional to how recognized you are in your fandom.
I know it can be discouraging to see tons of fic recs in your fandom and none of them including your fics. But yesterday, when I was feeling down, I re-read my own published works because they were the stories I wanted to read. And I enjoyed reading them, so much. And that is enough to keep me writing, because it showed me there is no better person to write the stories I have in my head than myself (a huge progress considering months ago, I couldn't reread something I'd written because I was cringeing too hard to get through two sentences).
Find your people that will always hype you and your fics up: you and your writing don't have to appeal to every single person in your fandom. Write niche fics! Rarepairs seemingly no one brought up before! Include headcanons and takes and interpretations you've never seen written before!
Write the stories you are dying to read, and I promise you, you'll find other people who were hoping to find that story somewhere, too.
Your writing is unique because it can only ever be yours and same goes for your stories; your writing is worth reading and your stories are worth being written <3
#feeling really nervous about posting this because my brain is convinced people will think it's a dig when it is absolutely not#but they're the words I needed someone to tell me for weeks so if it can help anyone <3#so I really hope no one interprets them as a dig lmao#every work published is a blessing to the fandom#kind of my take on the write for yourself i guess#writing positivity#on writing#writeblr#writers on tumblr#writing encouragement#writing motivation
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#big love again for mads (@felsicveins) for the art#really helped motivate me to get this chapter out#i humbly present to you. for your patience. a 30k+ chapter#no i dont know how that happened either#im sleepy tired and ao3 doesn't have a queue so i posted there a lil early#mutant ninja midlife crisis#mnmc#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt#fleo
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ORV is about enduring the horrors in real time.
(for @everyonesfavoritebastard)
#omniscient reader's viewpoint#kim dokja#yoo joonghyuk#I read a few arcs of ORV a few years back so I am at least loosely familiar with the characters and premise.#ORV dares ask the question: “what if you finally met your beloved blorbo who helped you cope through the horrors - and he *hates you*”#The reversal of what most people feel about some of their blorbos (love them but would never want to meet someone like that in person)#I would love to keep reading orv but it is very long and I already promised to finished like...3 other shows and several books.#my gesture of affection is consuming the media my friends care about. Alas I have none who are into orv to motivate me.#Also hey there raffle winner everyonesfavouritebastard - you gave no prompt at all so I took a random swing based on ur pfp and blog#I hope you like kim dokja! I am terribly sorry if you meant to leave a prompt and something glitched#EDIT: Found out raffle winner everyonesfavouritbastard didn't know it was a raffle. Homie...I'm So Sorry.#Now I *really* hope you like Kim Dokja.#You're so valid; I too would be mesmerized by the beauty of stackedbird's lovely little apple art.
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The way Azirphale is underestimated and practically infantalized by heaven is so closely tied to his femininity and I think we should talk about it more because I just want to shout about how relatable the way he's treated in his workplace is as a woman working in a traditionally male field
It's in all the little niggling comments from your boss about personal things that hold no bearing on your work
and the assumption that what you're doing must be simple if it was assigned to you
your work is trivialized
and you get these the placating smiles when you're told plans and proposals are rejected and passed over
or when your complaints are dismissed
and you get more of the same from upper management
it all feels so frustrating and draining but you're at work so all you can do is take a breathe put on that mask and move on with your day
It is all so deteimental to your emotional well being and textually, so much of this is tied to Aziraphale's softness, his gayness - his femininity
The thing about working in an environment and gives you this feeling - of being simultaneously destrought watching your belief in yourself get chipped away but also just so irate becuase you know you don't deserve it - is how it builds. It sinks under your skin and feeds into this indignant dejection until you can have a moment of release - but Azirphale doesn't get to bitch about it over drinks with friends, he doesn't get a lunch break where he can go for a walk and listen to an angry scandi death metal playlist, he doesn't even get the chance to cry about it in the bathroom for 5 minutes before confronting it again
(And I talked a little bit about it in the tags of this beautiful photoset but this all comes into play whenever Crowley dismisses his plans or calls him an idiot. These are purely emotional reactions; I really don't think Crowley means much by it - he respects Aziraphale's opinion and genuinely thinks he's brilliant - but Crowley is so quick to use this terminology when Aziraphale is making a decision Crowley thinks is wrong and he doesn't know how much this hurts Aziraphale. Just like Aziraphale doesn't understand the true impact the Fall had on Crowley, Crowley doesn't understand the ways heaven has been tearing away at Aziraphale's self worth)
Aziraphale has been facing this constant drip of denigration since before the beginning of time and has never released the pressure valve. At this point, he's a bomb waiting to go off
#(I want to note that I am coming at this from my personal experience as a woman#but I know femme neurodivergent and disabled folks of all genders face these same issues)#along similar lines I have tons of feelings about how often Aziraphale hides his hands when talking to other angels#to hide his stimming#and look I try not to tie everything back to explaning why Aziraphale ended s2 the way he did but apparently I can't#its just the juiciest character moment to me#also thinking about how angry Crowley was at Gabriel when he was treated like this once#granted shut up and die already IS the worst thing Gabriel has said to Aziraphale but if Crowley knew how much of this was going on...#aziraphale#good omens#go2 spoilers#good omens meta#Thanks to folks who responded to my tags on that post because you really motivated me to find these screen caps#and finish this post which has been sitting in my drafts for ages#also sorry so many of gabriels faces are funny I cant help that jon hamm is comedy gold - i refuse to let it undermine my point
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I'll ask after that secret number 8!
I only remembered secret number 8 because I saw your wip here! I'd started this one based on the same prompt, then lost said prompt and stopped working on it 😅
Instead of a snippet, I'm just dropping it all here - maybe that way I'll feel inspired to finish it?
———
It’s a full house for dinner tonight and, really, that should have tipped him off.
Bruce sits at the head of the table, smiling softly as he watches over everyone’s antics. Damian is regaling Dick with everything they saw at the zoo that day (Danny had been so happy to see Delilah the purpleback gorilla again, and her new little additions to the troupe, too!) and how well they are implementing the grant the Wayne Foundation had gifted them. Tim, Steph, Cass, and Duke are all engaged in a thumb-war tournament which Danny has no interest in participating in. It just wouldn’t be fair on them.
Danny loves that look. The one where Bruce’s eyes crinkle when he thinks none of the kids can see him. It oozes love and it makes Danny’s heart, his core, ache.
It’s been a little over a year since Alfred found him on the street and managed to wrangle him back to the manor to stay—even after the whole biting thing when he realised how rich they were.
A little over a year here and Danny’s starting to feel like family.
Starting to feel like he might, just maybe, like to make it official.
“Danny,” Bruce says, drawing everyone’s attention. Danny starts at his name, but Bruce’s voice is warm and calm, and his shoulders lose their tension almost immediately. “Danny, I have something I would like to tell you.”
“Uhhh…” is all Danny can croak out, eyes flicking back and forth between Bruce and the rest of them. Smooth. Looking good, Danny.
Except… they’re all happy. All smiles, all relaxed body language, all radiating calm and love and acceptance. Well, not Damian—his face is as thunderous as it always is—which at least means it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.
“Danny, first of all, I just want to impress upon you that this is in no way something you have to do. You are under no obligation to join us and, no matter what, you shall always be welcome with us in the manor.”
Wait, what? Danny squints at Bruce, trying to parse exactly what he’s saying… Is he—is this them asking to adopt him? Do they want to make it official, too?
It’s been a little over a year and of course Danny has imagined calling Bruce ‘Dad’. Of course he’s imagined being part of the family, of course he wants to make it official!
He can’t help the beaming grin or the bright and bubbling “Yes!” already waiting on his lips. All Bruce has to do is ask, all Danny needs to hear is—
“I’m Batman.”
The smile freezes on Danny’s face.
His lungs stop working, his heart stops working, he stops working, he just—
“And I’m Nightwing,” Dick smiles, breaking the awkward silence.
Danny’s eyes snap to him, and then down to Tim when he admits to being Red Robin. Duke is Signal, Steph is Spoiler. Damian begrudgingly tells him he’s Robin, but Danny can barely hear it over the ringing in his ears.
“I’m Black Bat.” Cass cocks her head, almost looking concerned. It always felt like she understood him the most. Whenever he was feeling low, too in his memories, or stewing after a nightmare, she was always there, ready to card her fingers through his hair and never mention his tears. It makes his heart ache to think of it now. “It’s okay, Danny.”
It’s meant to be reassuring, but how—how can it be okay? How?
Danny’s spent a little over a year with them. A little over a year with Batman.
Batman, who works with the Justice League, who works with…
A little over a year.
Just under 16 months since he escaped.
“Danny? Are you alright?” Bruce asks
Finally, his lungs kickstart and suck in a shuddering breath, only for everyone to drop their smiles.
Didn’t take them long, did it? Now that their ruse is up, there’s no kindness in their eyes, they’re just… cold, calculating. Evaluating.
“Why?” Danny gasps, his fingers tingling, his heart in his throat.
Just under 16 months since he—has he escaped? Or was this just another one of their experiments?
"I... I trusted you, why—" Danny chokes back a sob, gritting his teeth as his shoulders shake. Why? Why would they do this? "I was happy here, with you. I thought... Weren't you happy?"
"Danny..." Bruce is looking at him, eyes narrow and eyebrows pinched, in some cruel facsimile of confused concern and all Danny can think is how much of an actor he is. How well he can play the part of a doting father. How much he made him want that.
"I don't understand, why..."
"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before, I can imagine that it comes as a shock. We shouldn't have lied to you, Danny, but—"
"Stop it!" Danny slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up on wobbly legs. Even standing, he feels so small. Smaller than Bruce, than all of his adopted siblings. They crowd above him when they all stand, too. "Just stop it! Why are you doing this, why are you still pretending? Stop it!"
It was easier, with Danny's biological parents. The knowledge that they'd do anything to get him on a lab table, to open him up and see what makes him tick, to rip him apart molecule by molecule, had always been there. He knew they hated ghosts. He knew they hated Phantom. He knew they hated him. It was easier because it was something he'd known all his life. When he died, when he became a ghost, he knew what to expect from them. It hurt, of course it did.
But it was easier than this.
"Danny, I'm going to need you to take a deep breath. You're having a panic attack and you need to breathe."
"Breathe?" Danny laughs, the sound harsh and choking, too high pitched in his hysteria. "You're joking, right? Or is this just more of the—the experiment?"
"Danny, please, we don't know what you're talking about, you—"
"You don't know? You're Batman! You work with the Justice League, you work with—" His words choke off as his stomach churns, bile rising in his throat. His whole body itches, screaming at him to leave, he can't go back, he can't, he can't, he can't!
Bruce takes a hesitant step forward and Danny scrambles back, his feet catching on the chair behind him and sending him careening to the floor. Where are the agents? Why aren't they swarming in, ready to apprehend him, strap him back on the table, carve him from the inside out.
"Please, Danny, calm down. We don't—"
Danny stops listening. His back hits the wall and he pulls his knees into his chest, his shoulders dipping down as he begins to sob. His heart throbs inside his throat, too painful to swallow around. Tears fall hot and heavy on his face.
Sure, he could run. He could phase out through the wall and he could be out of Gotham in a couple of hours. He's escaped the GIW once, he can do it again.
But that was before Batman knew who he was. Before he had the World's Greatest Detective on his tail.
Before he...
He really thought this would be different, you know?
He wanted to make it official.
"Why did... Why were you so nice to me? Why did you make me like you? I really—I really liked you. I-I thought we could be a family."
"Danny, we are a—"
"Don't lie to me!" Danny snaps, but the force of his anger leeches all the fight from him, and suddenly all that's left is a bone-weary tiredness. There’s a lump in his throat that hurts. There’s a line down his chest that burns. "I don't care. I don't care anymore, I don't. Just... don't make me go back there. Please."
Is it futile? He thought he knew how the GIW operated by now, the depths that they would go to achieve their results, but this... this was a whole new level of pain that Danny thought he had left behind him in Amity.
"We're not going to make you go anywhere, Danny, you're safe here, I promise."
"Safe? Safe? You must have—" he takes a deep breath, tries to stop the quivering of his voice. It’s all starting to make sense, now. "The reason you're telling me who you are is because you must have told them everything already. I know the Justice League—I know you're working with them, which means the ex-experiment is over now, and they're coming to take me back. And I can't go back."
"Danny—"
"I can’t!” Danny glares at Bruce with all the rage he can, fingernails digging into his skin. “I’m not going back!"
"That's right, you're not going back, Danny. I won't let that happen." Bruce crouches down in front of Danny, his hands open and raised as if he's trying to say he's not a threat. "I don't know who you're talking about, and I'm sorry about that, but I can promise you that you’re not going back there. We will keep you safe."
Danny pulls himself closer, tucks himself further into the wall, eyes flickering all across the room waiting for that tell-tale flash of white as the agents start to swarm.
He should take his chances now and run, he should go, he needs to go!
The rest of them, his brothers and sisters of a little over a year, are spread out, giving him and Bruce some space. The same concern colours all of their faces. Why are they still pretending?
Steph is chewing on her thumb.
Danny liked Steph and her brash confidence, her jokes. She's been promising to paint his nails for months now, they've just never found the time. He was going to go for green and black, or maybe a galaxy theme, depending on what she felt comfortable doing.
He likes them all.
"You were supposed to be my family." His mouth turns down at the corners and his voice shakes like a child. "You were supposed to—why? Why would you—I don't understand why you would make me like you..."
"This isn't an experiment, Danny," Bruce's voice is steady, soothing. "I promise."
"But you work with them and—"
"Who do I work with?"
"The Justice League."
"Yes, I do, but we—"
"And the Justice League works with them. The GIW." Danny trembles with the name, clutching tightly onto his hoodie. "I'm not going back there, Bruce."
Danny doesn't miss Bruce's look over his shoulder, nor Tim's nod in return. Tim turns slightly to the side to hide his movements, but Danny bets he has his phone in his hand, probably letting them know they can take him now. Guess this is it, then. They'll be here soon, and he'll be gone.
"Kill me."
"Danny? What do—"
"If you ever had any kindness for me, if you ever cared, kill me. Please, Bruce. I can't do it again."
"Danny..."
"End me now. Take my core out and break it, please, before they get here."
#dpxdc#dcxdp#dpxdc fanfic#wip game#thanks for the ask <3 and thanks for helping me remember this fic lol#also huge thanks for having the prompt linked because i have S O M A N Y prompt wips that i can't ever post because i've lost the post#didn't really know how to get danny to calm down#that's a lie#i have a few ideas of where this can go but no motivation for it - not against all the other wips#i'll keep at it and ig post to ao3 should it actually start looking alright#¯\_(ツ)_/¯#dudes did u kno u can pin shit to your clipboard on desktop because i fucking love that#also if you use the windows key + . there's like emojis and shit#(((φ(◎ロ◎;)φ)))#<- and kaomoji too!!!!!#anyway that's been fun facts and fanfic with me. ur welcome#oh shit my writing tag#hailsatanacrab🦀🦀writes#at some point 'oh shit my writing tag' will just become my writing tag#anyway thank you again for the ask#good night everyone!!!!!
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Between the journey of Eyjafjalla getting closure from her parents’ death, the sheep, and Bison becoming more independent, the most eye-opening thing is that Snowsant is Swire’s sugar baby.
#arknights#So long adele#Okay it’s not canon#I just find it exceptionally funny how Swire just gives an entire ass store for Snowsant to manage#Like she literally gave all the goods she needed in order to run the thing#Of course her ulterior motive is to gage Siesta’s profitability and run the stores out#But to hand it off to a girl who has social anxiety is a choice#Like she really must have faith Snowsant to do it#Like…come on Swire you’re not slick#Snowsant told her not to give her money and Swire has to find ways to help her#Swire aspires to be a sugar mommy to a woman that has no interest in it#In short I’m shipping them b/c confidant woman x anxious mess is a weak spot for me#Spoilers
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ace as rick grimes 😼
#i don’t really like rick bcus hes kinda dumb but the whole sheriff thing reminded me of ace so..#i think im forgetting how to color help#i was gonna make a collage of ace grimes but im losing motivation#ik walking dead colors are sad and dull but i physically can not use desaturated colors so here’s bright ace grimes !!#rick grimes#the walking dead#walking dead#ace one piece#one piece#portgas d ace#one piece fanart#fire fist ace#one piece ace#portgas ace fanart#opfanart#my art <3#my artwork#digital artist#digital art
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Bet you all thought I was dead didn't you...no...I can never die...
Anyways ngl I'm not happy with a lot of the more recent refs so get redesigned idiots :P Also feat some common enemies just to get them out of the way and at least have something new LOL
#definitely like these waaay better much simpler design & silhouette#theres a few others id like to redo but not rn#anyways hi. so it has been like a year. sorry about that#motivation in general has been low tbh TwT#but i would still really like to finish usau even if it takes ages.. it still means a lot to me#so at this point idc if i have to settle for lower effort than i have in the past. refs wont be as complex and maybe combined like this#and also will happen whenever i feel like it :) no promises it wont be another year GJAKJSLKHGKSD#A Hat in Time#ahit au#USAU#i struggled. for so long. trying to decide what ufo swapped with#well more specifically the problem is the spiders i dont think they fit as ufo...#i ended up switching so much stuff around. alpine and arctic are currently in shambles. help
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sometimes you just gotta lick the homies
#(and blatantly admit your dishonesty to them. yknow. normal friendship things)#friendship is a really strong word tho. at least for these guys#purposely gonna be vague about their relationship for now but i will say that they both consider killing the other on multiple occasions :)#and also they slow dance and kiss but that's unrelated#oh oh oh i should say for those who don't know - daisy (my courier) is a trans woman and uses she/her pronouns#she's got a bit of a beard here but that's bc the only sharp things in the sierra madre are knives#and lies#but those aren't great for shaving#:)#new vegas#dead money#fallout new vegas#fnv#dean domino#daisy correa#courier six#irradiated art#i loveeeeeeeee dead money so much i am kissing the entire dlc on the mouth#dead money <33333333#forced cooperation between a group whose only motive to help the others (at least initially) is that if they don't they die <3333333#a fuckn casino heist <333 !!!!! hello. insane dlc concept. insane execution (/pos). i love it to bits it makes me so sad and so so so hyped
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I may have to enforce a hiatus on myself 😶
I think I'm getting a little too obsessed with getting feedback/interaction and it's impacting my mental health SO I may end up stepping away from tungle for September
Gonna wait and see if this is just a random low period or if it persists first though, cause I like keeping up with everyone's projects on here!
#it'll be a tough call because seeing that people enjoy what i make boosts my motivation to get stuff done#and im also irrationally worried about being forgotten or something BUT#yeah we'll see#if i decide it's a good call ill make another post about it the week before so i don't just vanish out of nowhere#this community has really helped push me to make things and be creative and it's wonderful but yeah#i take things too far in my own head#i do wanna try and finish augusnippets first though#calico is befuddled#(ish)#cw personal
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Shiro's Puppy Dog Eyes 🥺🐶
Dedicated to my lovely patrons, my amazing friends, and the wonderful sheith fandom! Thank you so much for your support! 🥰
✨ Patreon ✨
#sheith#my art#animation#same age au#This AU really helped get me through so much#The support you guys have given has motivated me to keep drawing and improving#:')
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a lot of clipping to fix, but hey I got it moving at least! I'll get the Telvanni robe properly physic'd if it's the last thing I do >:0
#last i checked the vanilla hdt clothes on the nexus didn't cover solstheim content#but i wanted to finally learn to do proper hdt bones myself anyway so its fine :)#this was a nightmarish mess before i separated the black underskirt to its own group#now it swishes around nicely and collides without going through the red outer skirt#i still haven't figured out the crouching/sneaking problem where it'll sometimes phase through the thighs like they don't exist#but that seems to happen to other people's outfits too so maybe it's not just mine? idk yet lol#hmmm i think that back flap thing with the gold trim is gonna have to be separated too. it stretches out weirdly :/#also. should the scarf get to move? maybe just the dangling ends?#bc the rest can't really move since there's nothing under the scarf. it's just glued at the edges to the chest of the outfit#which is good bc it's optimized well so the game isn't rendering the neck part of the robes that you don't even see#but I'd have to create new faces on the mesh to fill in the unseen gaps like i did when splitting the skirts up#and also i'm too lazy to map that new fancy chest area and draw out the missing texture with all the telvanni swirls :'(#help me motivation gods#modding stuff#my posts#i want nelly to be able to swish around prettily like anyone else <3#guys deserve some physic'd outfit love too
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“it’s just a warmup sketch,” i say to myself. “i’m just gonna warm up on shading and coloring. i’m just warming up on anatomy.” my spine crackles from sitting in shrimp stance for 2 hours. “just to warm up.”
#dairydraws#epithet erased#molly blyndeff#prison of plastic#jelloapocalypse#epithet erased prison of plastic#eepop#digital painting#molly is really fun to practice drawing hair on but i do kinda feel like i’m fighting against the skin tone in her ref whenever i draw her#i don’t even necessarily feel like i favor warmer or more saturated tones in general but idk#something about the color in her ref doesn’t mesh right with my painting style#i should try painting her lit in cooler toned light that might help#i was drawing her crying and then changed my mind#but i forgot to erase the little snot bubble. so i guess molly has a runny nose#the reason i got so carried away is almost definitely because the cafe im in is playing such slow relaxing music#i usually listen to pretty upbeat stuff when i draw#and it motivates me to go fairly fast. but i was just kinda enjoying myself and going with the rhythm of the lowfi beatstrumentals#this is a great cafe. the masala chai here fucking shreds#it’s so cardamom heavy and baby do i love cardamom#you know a tea at a cafe is good if drinking the stuff leftover at the bottom gets a lil grit in ur mouth#molly deserves a warm cup of masala chai frankly#paintings
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