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lightns881 · 4 years ago

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DTeam Tumblr Demographics Survey Results (Part 1):

The Gifted Child Syndrome is Real with this One...

*Rubs hands together in preparation for some juicy data and in-depth analysis of the typical member of the DTeam Tumblr community*

Ooooooooh boy! Here we go!

I want to start of by thanking you guys for over 400 responses to the demographics survey! Y’all have no idea how much I appreciate it! We have so much to cover, so I’m going to divide up different sections of the survey into several posts to make it more digestable and do justice to each topic explored in the form! We’re going to start of with, you guessed it, personality types!

Strap yourself in because we’re about to thoroughly dissect your sub-conscious innerworkings and find out how the typical DTeam Tumblr Fan thinks! (And judging by the majority personality types, you guys will probably enjoy it)

The Delicious Data

From the 449 responses we received, this is a pie chart displaying the personality types of all respondents.

Image Description: INFP (40.5%), INTP (15.1%), INFJ (8.9%), INTJ (8.9%), ISFP (6.9%), ENFP (4.2%), ISTP (4.0%), ENTP (3.8%), ESFP (1.6%), ISFJ (1.6%), ENTJ (1.3%), ENFJ (1.3%), ISTJ (1.1%), ESTP (0.4%), ESFJ (0.2%), ESTJ (0%)

In comparison, this is a pie chart displaying the personality type percentages of the population as a whole according to the MBTI website.

Image Description: ISTP (14%), ESFJ (12%), ISTJ (12%), ISFP (9%), ESTJ (9%), ESFP (8%) ENFP (8%), ISTP (5%), INFP (4%), ESTP (4%), INTP (3%), ENTP (3%), ENFJ (2%), INTJ (2%), ENTJ (2%), INFJ (1%)

I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sensing a tiny difference here... Oh, right!

INxx’s on the Loose!

It’s funny. When I first found one of the 18+ DTeam fan servers through Tumblr, I asked everyone what their personality type was. I was pleasantly surprised when a lot of them told me they were INFPs like me!

It actually reminded me of MatPat’s (Game Theory) survey for one of his Life Is Strange theories that found the majority personality there was also INFP...

Funny enough, can you guess what the second leading personality on that survey was? The third? The fourth?

You probably guessed it right. MatPat found that out of the fans who responded, the leading majority was INFP while INTPs came in second, INFJs came in third, and INTJs came in fourth. The exact order for the personality types in DTeam Tumblr.

But why is it that some of the rarer personalities of the world are dominating DTeam Tumblr or Game Theory’s fanbase? What is it about these communities that attract the rare introverted Intuitive Perceivers (INxP) and Intuitive Judgers (INxJ) of the world like magnets?

The Gifted Kid Syndrome

To answer this question, first we have to examine our leading personalities. As we can see from the data, INFPs and INTPs make up 55.6% and INFJs and INTJs make up 17.8% of the total respondents. That’s nearly 3/4′s of the DTeam Tumblr population made up of INxx types!

Now, here’s me calling y’all out.

A lot of you probably relate to the quiet kid sitting at the back of the classroom who’s put into some type of TAG, gifted program, or some authority figure has probably called you smart and/or “gifted” at some point in your life. Academics probably came easy to you at one point, maybe they still do.

You’ve probably felt your chest swell up at the shower of compliments about your intelligence and at another... you’ve probably felt like people put you in a pedestal and overrate you so you’re stuck with this inherent fear of failure, and it causes you to completely shut down when the things that came easy to you at one point no longer do so.

It’s gifted kid syndrome hitting you like a brick to the face. And if it hasn’t yet, oh you’re in for a surprise, honey.

And I’m sure many of you have come across funny, relatable posts like this:

And you want to know why most of you relate?

Image Description: INTP, INTJ, INFP, anf INFJ’s rate the highest in a giftedness per MBTI Type chart

No. You’re not hallucinating. It’s not even a joke at this point. It feels true because it probably is true.

(Granted, the study that captured similar results to this graph is long lost to the internet, but the best source I found with it was a reddit post I will be citing in the reblog.)

Now, my next point is where we find a split.

INFPs and INTPs and their Need to Question Everything (even if it’s about one sentence [insert creator here] said that one time during a 4-hour long stream)

The strongest connection I found between the two leading personalities of DTeam Tumblr is they share Extraverted Intuiting (Ne) as their auxiliary cognitive function.

I’ll use a quote that explains Ne better than I could ever explain it in my own words:

“Extraverted intuition or Ne is very much focused on patterns and making connections from information they gather... Ne dominant users enjoy being able to explore things in a much more open manner, not wanting to feel closed off to the possibilities around them... They are also highly imaginative people, who enjoy being able to come up with unique hobbies and experiences... They are not afraid of imagining things which seem almost impossible to others... [For INFPs,] Ne is what creates this detailed and incredible thoughts process which keeps them busy for long periods of time.”

And another:

“Auxiliary Ne manifests in people constantly questioning the world around them, but unlike ENxPs, they can be more pick and choose about this. But generally, they don’t take people, things and events at face value.“

Now, think about the community you’re in right now. Think about the post you’re reading at the moment.

DTeam Tumblr is full of over-analysis posts, whether about Dream and George’s secret love for each other or about the inherent problems with Dream’s shipbait and gay jokes or theories about what’s going to happen next in the dream SMP lore and the dramatic betrayals and creator’s descend into madness and more theories about sexuality and charts depicting creator’s personalities and what they’d be likely to do in different scenarios and... ooof, I’m out of breath here. You get my point.

DTeam Tumblr is literally a group of ex-gifted or gifted introverted people who love to read or write analysis, theory, and discussion posts about sweaty Minecraft Youtubers because they’re probably too overwhelmed by real life and find joy in obsessing over “dumb” things.

That’s it. That’s literally the post. I might as well end there.

But I won’t.

Because obsessions is exactly what I want to focus on next.

The Inherent Nature of the INFP and their “Micro-Obsessions”

This is me having a one-to-one conversation with all my INFPs reading this.

Do you sometimes just set your mind on a goal--like, let’s say, writing a book--and you spend so much time obsessing over it to the point where you burn out and suddenly it never sees the light of day because you move onto your next goal or obsession because now you’re getting ready to launch your freelance website so you can start a business on [insert new hobby here]?

Or do you just suddenly find a fandom or a show or a channel you really enjoy and you spend the next few months doing nothing but engaging with it and reading fanfiction and drawing fan art or making dumb analysis posts on your main Tumblr account where suddenly you get an influx of followers from that community and now people are expecting you to just post about MCYT!?

Oh, sorry, I got a little carried away at the end there...

Anyhow, my point is, do you ever develop an obsession over something all the sudden only for it to just disappear when you find something new or just fall into the deep crevices of your mind only for it to maybe reemerge a few years later after you get a deep sense of nostalgia remembering it?

I call them micro-obsessions. And I recently found out, I’m not the only one who does this!

Here’s another quote for you:

“According to Carl Jung’s theory of cognitive functions, when an INFP makes a decision, Ne comes in second to another process known as Introverted Feeling (Fi). Fi does not use logic to make a decision. It uses how we feel about the decision according to our values. In other words, it asks, “Which choice feels right for me?”

Ne, on the other hand, craves new ideas and experiences to explore, which causes INFPs to always be on the lookout for something novel.

Unfortunately, INFPs can get stuck in a loop, going back and forth between their Ne and Fi. They search to understand their values by constantly trying new things. They ask themselves, “Does this feel right?” then throw it over their shoulder as they move on to something else.”

So, you’re probably asking right about now, Light, how the heck does any of this have anything to do with the Dream Team and MCYT!?

Well, my friend, it has EVERYTHING to do with the Dream Team and MCYT and DTeam Tumblr as a whole.

Because INxx’s are predisposed to end up in places like this--fandoms on Tumblr, channels that speculate whether Mario is evil, watching dramatic Minecraft smp wars and elections as opposed to looking at the news that depicts Murphy’s Law as 2020′s new favorite epigram.

The introvert in them causes them to prefer socializing in small communities online where they’re not forced to engage in conversations if they don’t want to or put into uncomfortable situations where they have to talk to that one friend of their friend who wants to make meaningless small chat.

Their Intuition causes them to wonder into places like Tumblr where they can engage in deep discussions about their newest obsessions, and they won’t be judged for writing a 500+ word post about why Dream’s shipbait tactics are a genius algorithm strat or simping over sweaty Minecraft boys.

DTeam Tumblr is a safe haven for INFPs and INTPs who might be placed in the “other” category or marked as weird for being interested in “childish” entertainment or being different from the general population overall, whether that’d be sexuality, point of view, age, gender, etc. A place where you can fully be yourself and not have to worry about disappointing people.

INFPs are predisposed for drowning themselves in their micro-obsessions to avoid all of the madness in the world--even if that means giggling like a little girl while reading memes about your favorite Minecraft YouTube creators.

That is a deep-dive into the mind of a typical DTeam Tumblr user. What do you think? Is it accurate at all? Is it completely off? Let me know in the comments!

And with that, I digress. I’m not sure whether I’ll be covering general demographics next week or diving into the topic of ships (could be a mix of both), but I will be posting about it eventually, so make sure to hit the follow if you got to the end of this post and enjoyed it or learned something new from it!

Friendly reminder that this survey and post is in no way supposed to be taken 100% seriously. These are just the ramblings of a math major INFP with too much time on her hands and way too big of an obsession for MCYT. My asks are always open for literally anything, whether if you want to ask me about this or any DNF related subject, my own opinions, or just criticize the whole of this post and tell me it’s complete trash! I’ll answer as long as it’s appropriate!

And, again, thank you everyone who filled out the survey. Without y’all, this post wouldn’t be possible. I really enjoyed writing it! Adios!

#dteam #dteamblr #dttblr #mcyt #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #sapnap #dreamnotfound #dnf #dream team #dream smp #dteamblr demographics survey #analysis

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cam-the-orange-cat · 4 years ago

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A Master-Guide for Overcoming Writer’s Block

Writer’s block is the woe that befalls every writer at some point. To overcome writer’s block, however, you must identify the source of the blockage. This guide will go over common reasons writers find themselves stuck and will offer some simple suggestions that can help. Although suggestions are catered to each problem, don’t hesitate to mix-and-match possible solutions; everyone is different.

The Common Blocks We’ll be Overviewing:

Problem vs. Solution

Fear & Doubt

Perfectionism

Boredom

You Have No Ideas

You're Easily Distracted

Procrastination

Problem vs. Solution

You’ve crafted an incredible conflict, a far-reaching problem that your protagonist must solve. Then you realize: you must solve it. Or you’re making progress in your first or second draft when you discover a plot hole. It’s not something easy you can cover over with a rug, it’s something you wonder you didn’t see sooner and are now overwhelmed with how to fix it and still preserve your progress. You have “painted yourself into a corner” and now you have to paint yourself out.

How do you overcome this block?

Take a shower.

Take a nap

Go for a walk.

Or — as Margaret Atwood recommends — iron some clothes.

Repetitive, mindless activites seem to work best for stimulating the mind. Most writers can testify that taking a shower is a magnet for interesting ideas. The more mindless, the better.

Exercise gets new chemicals flowing through your brain; showering stimulates new senses; ironing is a hands-on-activity with a bit of danger involved — these are palate cleansers for your mind.

Sometimes this sort of block requires doing additional research for your story.

Maybe there’s something in mankind’s military history that can help you solve how your protagonist’s army is to cross the uncrossable river. Maybe there’s a modern-day cure that would work against the disease you made up, and it has humble origins your protagonist can discover. Maybe your protagonist will lose this battle, but go on to win the war in a way you hadn’t considered before.

Fear & Doubt

The blank page mocks you. And the mockery hits a little too close to home. You’re afraid of criticism, you’re afraid of not doing the story justice, you’re afraid you’re not actually a good writer at all — you’re afraid you’re a fraud.

The sucky part is, some of that is true. First drafts do tend to suck. There will be people who don’t like what you write. But what is absolutely, definitively not true is that you’re a fraud.

You’re a writer.

You are a writer.

Say the words aloud. Say them again. Say them louder.

You are a writer.

Now, how do you overcome this block?

Free write

Write stream of consciuosness

Brainstorm ideas in bullet points

Work on a writing-prompt for five minutes

Try your hand at a whole new genre or category

Whatever you do, write. Practice makes perfect, and practice is also the best way to conquer Fear and Doubt. Refuse to give Fear and Doubt power and soon Fear and Doubt will stop pestering you.

Interestingly, the antidote for Fear and Doubt are similar to the antidotes for Perfectionism, writing’s most infamous villain. The next subheading, however, will go over this particular monster in more detail.

Perfectionism

You’ve been crippled by your own standards. Your story just doesn’t make sense. Your characters don’t feel right. Your writing sounds atrocious.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

Perfectionism is a choice. We choose to criticize ourselves until we’re beaten to a bloody pulp and have no will left to go on. We run ourselves through the consequences of this headspace and, despite how painfully frustrating it is, we don’t let ourselves escape.

Fear and Doubt grow from perceiving unrealistic expectations of perfection from others and being afraid of not measuring up to that standard. Whereas Perfectionism is not a fear of external criticism, but is a person imposing an unrealistic desire to be perfect unto themself. This is why Perfectionism is a cycle that cannot be broken by friends and family reassurances that you are, in fact, a great writer. You, and you alone, are holding yourself back.

In order to break free from Perfectionsim, you must accept that your writing will never be perfect. Let go of the ideal of perfection. There is no such thing as the perfect story. Writers are imperfect people as is everyone else — even the holy god of fantasy Tolkien was human. And because we are imperfect, so too is our writing.

Acceptance is not begrudging. Acceptance is contentment with the present.

So, how do you find contentment in imperfection?

Read bad books. Make fun of them, laugh at them — enjoy them. See how beloved these awfully written books are and embrace the idea that you don’t have to be perfect. You, as you are, are more than enough.

Write badly. Do it purposefully. Research overused cliches and tropes and then write them as awfully as you can.

Then, share how bad it is. Laugh with your friends and family over it.

Most of all: don’t compare yourself with others. Admiring and learning from other creators and their work is healthy. Comparing yourself with them is never healthy.

Now that you’ve faced your fear of imperfection and realized how fun it can be, writing won’t seem so daunting. Free flowing creativity relies on realistic expectations.

Boredom

You are no longer excited about writing. You’ve been working on this story for too long. You’ve been dragging yourself through it. You don’t want to give up, but this is becoming a chore. Or you love this story dearly, however writing in general has become a chore. You’re just plain bored, but that’s something you don’t want to admit because losing your passion for writing feels like your first death.

First: it’s entirely possible you have moved on from writing. That is not a bad thing. Far from it, in fact! If you’re bored, your feelings are telling you this isn’t the right fit for you right now — so try new things! Maybe, after a while, you’ll get that zeal for the written word back. Maybe not.

Don’t become discouraged, though; your time as a writer is not invalidated just because you’re not writing currently. You were a lovely writer. You have written much. Don’t be hard on yourself, but give yourself a pat on the back. You have enjoyed a very turbulent and difficult hobby for likely many years! That is something to smile fondly upon.

If, however, the above sentiments don’t settle in your stomach very well:

What can help you overcome this unending boredom?

Hands-on activities are good at jumpstarting the creative battery:

Play — play a board game with friends, play an RPG video game, build a lego house, mold with Play-Dough.

Apply your creativity to a different outlet — follow a Bob Ross tutorial, cook a new recipe or decorate a cake, crochet a scarf.

Change is a good stimulus for your mind:

Change your environment. Try going to the park and writing. Go to the library. Go to a room on the other side of your house.

Change your medium. If you often write on your computer, try handwriting; pick out a nice notebook and use a smooth-flowing pen. If you often handwrite, try typing; explore different word processesors, like Microsoft Word or Google Docs.

Listen to music or a podcast as you write. Or: if you often listen to classical, try rock. If you often listen to a podcast about true crime, try a comedy channel. Or listen to absolute silence.

You Have No Ideas

This is the essence of the blank page fear. It’s not self-bout, it’s not perfectionism, it’s not a plot hole you’re trying to fill. You simply have nothing to write. You are uninspired.

How to overcome this blockage:

Read good books. You could even study literature: follow along with Shmoop as you read Solaris; Sparknotes as you read Hamlet; or Cliffnotes as you read The Life of Pi.

Research writing: there are many books, websites, blogs, and services that offer advice and tips on writing. Whether you can afford the hefty $180/year subscription to MasterClass, or you’d prefer borrowing a book from your local library, learning something new about your craft could get your brain back to storming.

As a writer, it is your first and primary responsibility to live your life. Creating your own experiences is the best thing you can do for your writing. You write what you know — so try new things!

Spend time with friends: chat over the phone, play Jack-Box over zoom, or (when circumstances safely allow) get coffee at an obscure coffee shop.

Play with your pet; brush your dog’s teeth, or try giving your cat a bath (it will at least be entertaining for those around watching you).

Pick up a new hobby: painting, drawing, cooking, sewing, running, biking, hiking, gardening, dancing, guitar or piano, darts, soap-making, scrapbooking; here’s a list you can browse through.

Introduce yourself to a stranger (not online) — make friends with the person ahead of you in the grocery store line. Characters come from someplace real, so meet more people!

You’re Easily Distracted

It feels like there’s a toddler in your head, and the little devil is hell-bent on driving you absolutely mad. What’s that song on the radio? Let me look up the lyrics and follow along with them for an hour on loop. What’s a synonym for epitome? What’s a synonym for essence? — Extract is a movie? Let’s watch it.

I personally feel for writers who struggle with this block. We hear time and time again: just limit your distractions! Or try this new web-browser or add-on!

But I don’t have the money to spend on a weird looking typewriter or a monthly subscription for a browser add-on. And far from it will either of those options save me from the toddler in my own mind! The typewriter doesn’t stop me from feeling like eating some ice cream. The browser add-on doesn’t keep me from scrolling through Instagram on my phone.

I have Good News, though: We’re not a hopeless case.

And no, this isn’t a self-discipline issue. As someone who grew up with an impulse-monkey of their very own running rampant inside their head, I’m still an industrious and ethical worker.

So what’s the secret to overcoming this block?

Self-compassion.

Instead of shaming and punishing yourself for falling down the YouTube rabbit-hole, take into consideration the toddler when you first approach a task.

If the toddler often gets sidetracked by music with lyrics, try listening to classical music. There will be no chance then of wanting to sing along with the lyrics, and the toddler will be satisfied while you get some work done.

If the toddler often gets peckish, prepare some healthy snacks (like fruit salad, yogurt with granola, pretzels and peanut butter) ahead of time, get a large thermos of cold water, and the toddler will munch away happily while you work on your magnum opus.

Set up a dedicated space for writing:

Maybe you don’t have a spare room — or even a desk. But you do have a soft lap pillow and a comfy chair you can move to a quiet corner. Drag your writing supplies over and dedicate this as your safe space for writing. Only write here. Don’t eat breakfast here, don’t do homework here, don’t chat with friends here.

This may seem straightforward, but teaching the toddler is another story. To start, then, use this dedicated space only for a few minutes at a time. Spend fifteen focused minutes on a project while you sit here, then take a break. Overtime, you’ll find you can focus for longer and longer intervals in your writing space.

Procrastination

The Final Boss. The End-All Villain. Procrastination often doesn’t appear on its own. It’s inspired by something. Maybe it’s something we’ve already covered in this guide. The first thing you must do, therefore, is identify the source of your procrastination. Which may vary from project to project.

Once you identify what it is that’s deterring you from action, remember that you hold the power to break through this cycle. So when you put a plan into action, stick to it.

What are some ways you can beat procrastination?

“I’m overwhelmed by this big project.”

Prepare short-term goals: Long-term goals just about beg to be procrastinated. They’re far away and easily forgetable. Short-term goals, however, offer an opportunity to check something off a list. And boy — is that satisfying to do!

Make a list of what you’d like to get done. Prepare achievable goals; SMART goals are goals that are Specific, Measureable, Attainable, Relevant, and are set within a Time-frame. So, for instance, if you have a book you’d like to write, make it a goal to write five hundred words during the next hour.

“There is only one way to eat an elephant: one bite at a time” — Desmond Tutu

“This is boring.”

This kind of boredom which inspires procrastination is not necessarily the same as creative boredom. This kind of boredom exists because you do not feel challenged in your writing. Whereas the boredom we previously discussed is caused because you are not excited about your writing. So how do you challenge yourself? — Some previous suggestions can be applied:

Try your hand at a whole new genre. Do you write a lot of Fantasy? Try Science Fiction, Urban Fantasy, or go as far out of your comfort zone as you can, like Contemporary Romance. Or have you ever written NonFiction? Jog your mind with a memior prompt or an essay topic — just make sure it interests you!

Research writing: there are many books, websites, blogs, and services that offer advice and tips on writing. On Tumblr alone, some include: @writingwithcolor, @referenceforwriters, @ wordstuck.co.vu, @writing-problems, @thewritershelpers, @youreallwrite, and @fuckyeahcharacterdevelopment

Try throwing a monkey wrench into your story! You can try picking a random prompt to try and incorporate into a scene. You can kill a character. Add some spice into your writing to renew your writing zest!

If all else fails: archive this project. Don’t delete it — never delete what you write; put this project aside for now. Step away from it. You may be too close to it to see what about it isn’t working, or what about it is making it unattractive to you. Give it some time. When you feel ready to return to this project, it will be waiting for you. In the meantime, enjoy creating a new story.

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concerningwolves · 6 years ago

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On Discussions of “We didn’t appropriate the word poly!!”

Comments about how “poly” can be used by anyone have been piling up in the notes of my post about writing healthy polyam relationships. While I’m usually the last person to jump on a discourse bandwagon willingly, I do want to address the matter of “Poly or Polyam”, effective immediately.

I am not Polynesian myself, so there’s a point where I stop being able to talk about this. At that point, I’ll refer to the proper resources.

One comment goes as follows:

"Poly" wasn't appropriated, accidentally or otherwise. Poly is a Greek word meaning many, which was in use 2000 years ago. When Polynesia was named it was done so using the same Greek word, and Polynesia means many islands. They've only had that for around 200 years.

Yes, “Poly” is a Greek prefix meaning many. It’s also in polygamy, polydactyly, polythene... But we’re not here for a language lesson. We’re here to discuss how communities use language to create safe-spaces for themselves, and “Poly” is one such word.

“They’ve only had that for 200 years” doesn’t mean anything. The term “demisexual” was coined in 2008 and that’s a perfectly valid word which most people respect; if someone says they’re demi, those in the LGBT+ community and most allies are going to know that means demisexual/romantic. How long a word has been around for is completely irrelevant--rather, it’s whether a word was used as a form of liberation or reclaimed by a marginalised group that we should be paying attention to.

The next point made by someone else was:

Polyamorous people didn’t ‘accidentally appropriate’ the word. That’s the glorious thing about words. They have multiple meanings, especially in different contexts and environments.

This person was very respectful in their argument and so I can only guess that they’re out of the loop on the issue, which is hardly a crime. (I’m never in the loop for anything lmao, I’m pretty late to this too). But anyway, the point is that while language DOES have a contextual element to it, language is also a powerful tool that helps those who have been marginalised. As I mentioned about “demi”, the abbreviation is generally respected as belonging to the demi/grey/asexual community despite the fact that it means “half” and can also be found in the words demigod, demihuman, demimonde and demiworld.

So yes, context is important--and in this case, the context is who you’re referring to and what the situation is. If you’re chatting with a group of polyam people amongst yourselves then using the word “Poly” is chill, but on a busy website you may need to adjust your speech so that tags, searches and filters will help the right communities.

Then finally, the one that prompted this post in the first place:

I've never heard of Polynesians referring to themselves as "Poly," nor would I call them that. It sounds rather offensive.

Do you think that I, a White person with no personal reason to do so, just pulled this argument out of my arse for the sake of it? That I just formed an opinion based off of nothing that you could then proceed to argue with? That you or I or any other person who isn’t Polynesian has any right to speak for another community? No, no and no.

When I was first researching Polyamory to figure myself out, I came across an article written by a Polynesian woman about how she was really sad that searches for her people were full of polyamourus online communities instead. She had always used “poly” to refer to herself and others from her home--and that stuck with me, because I love language and couldn’t imagine having an empowering word taken away from me.

There’s a knee-jerk reaction to being called out that makes you want to defend yourself, and that’s fine. I’m only here to tell you what I’ve been told and explain why you should be open to listening as well.

This article by a polyamorous person takes a good look at both sides and explains the history of the debate. Aida explains far more clearly than I could how the issue here isn’t about who gets to use the word, but about respecting individual uses.

There are Polynesians who use the identifier, and Polynesians who don’t. So our role as polyamorous people is to listen and act sensitively according to the information you gain. Don’t start defending yourself with stuff like the bullshit above, please. Just hear people out and respect their feelings.

It doesn’t mean that you can never use the shorthand of “poly” or that you’re a Terrible Bad Person for using it in the past (or even the present), but on a large space like Tumblr where lots of communitues are mingling together and language is the way in which we sift through all that stuff, it’s important to adjust based on the needs of others.

So gauge the situation, consider who might be impacted by what you say and listen before retaliating.

#polyamory #discourse cw #polyamorous relationships #polyamourous

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thelittleredheadedmusician · 7 years ago

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Family Gatherings

This is pure self indulgent fluff. Also the Phone Fic that I keep bloging about. Can be found here on my ao3! Rating: PG (Mild language) Words: 5,112 Gen

Family gatherings are not words generally associated with the individuals who make up Gotham’s vigilantes. Strategy meetings, subterfuge, infighting, assassin, spy, creepy, know it all. These are terms they are well versed in. This is why the text message that Bruce sent out at 9 am on Saturday was such a surprise.

“I request that all of you come to the manor for a family gathering at 7. Alfred will be serving dinner promptly at 7:30. What the hell is that supposed to mean Tim?!” Dick could practically hear his little brother shrugging on the other end of the phone.

“I dunno. Maybe he wants to go over his will.”

“That’s not funny and you know it.”

“C'mon Dick! Like you have a better explanation?”

Dick sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “No. Do you think everyone will come?”

“I know Steph and Harper will out of pure curiosity. Everyone else,” Tim paused and took a deep breath, releasing the rest of his sentence on the exhale, “who knows.”

Dick nodded, not really caring that he couldn’t be seen as habit was habit. “Ok. Well Damian will be, Cass for sure, Babs is going to be there cause she hates being out of the loop, Jason…” Dick trailed off, looking down at his bare feet. He’d woken to find the text blinking at him from a half dead phone screen. Knowing that he’d have seen it already too Dick immediately called Tim and had been pacing around the apartment in his pajamas with the now nearly dead cell to his ear.

“Yeah,” Tim said empathically.

“Maybe he’ll come for Alfred?” Dick tried.

“You know him better than I do.”

“You’re right. And I don’t even know why he does half the things he does. I’ve gotta charge my phone. I’ll see you later?”

Tim snorted. “Of course you do. Alright, yeah. I’m meeting up with Tam soon anyway. Bye.”

“Bye,” Dick frowned at the phone. Now that the call with Tim had ended it had returned to the group chat Bruce had sent his text in. Not a single person had replied and Bruce likely didn’t expect them to. Just that they showed up. He stuck it on a charger in the living room and went to get a shower. After breakfast Dick collapsed onto the couch. Having wrapped up a case the night before he decided to reward himself with some video games.

Dick started up Call of Duty, grabbing a controller and his headset. He smiled as he saw that both Roy and Wally were currently online. He started a game with them and as soon as he slipped the headset on he could hear Roy swearing already. “What gives, it’s like 7 or something out there. How the hell are both of you awake and playing video games?” He asked once the cursing died down.

Wally snorted as his character took out a sniper on the screen. ��Linda and the kids went to visit her parents. I’ve got the house to myself for the weekend and Bart and I have been playing all night. Kid passed out about 2 hours ago.”

Dick shook his head and tried to figure out how many energy drinks the speedster must’ve downed in order to still be awake. Especially taking into account his metabolism.

“How’d you get out of going with?” Roy tossed a grenade into the building on the screen, causing the whole thing to be temporarily covered in cgi flames.

“I’m the Flash. And her parents don’t know. Plus I’m on call for the League.”

“Then how was staying up all night a good idea if you were on call?” Dick punched a complicated series of buttons that Tim had shown him, taking out the three guys on the roof and the two on the ground.

“Clark’s on monitor duty. I’m just the back up. And nobody does anything in the middle of June. It’s like common knowledge.”

The other two made noncommittal sounds of agreement as they continued to play.

“Alright, Roy what’s your excuse?” Dick tried to reload as they were ambushed from above.

“Lian had a nightmare. I just got her back to sleep about a half hour ago and now I can’t sleep. Living on the West Coast has its perks when your gaming buddies don’t get up ‘til noon and live in Jersey.”

“I don’t know which part of that I should be more offended by. The fact you think I don’t get up ‘til noon or the way you said Jersey.”

“Jersey,” the others replied in unison.

Dick scoffed and pouted, not that it did any good as his friends were in Keystone and Star respectively.

“Alright, you’re chattier than usual. What gives?” Roy asked.

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?” Dick sputtered.

Wally paused the game and snorted. “Dude. You’re being nosy. Even for you. Plus you only ever play Call of Duty if stuck on a case or having personal drama. We’ve known you since you were in pixie boots, doesn’t take a detective to know your quirks by this point.”

Dick groaned and put the controller down, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Bruce texted us all this morning that he’s having a ‘family gathering’,” he knew they’d hear the implied air quotes in his tone, “and that we’re all expected to be there.”

“That’s rough,” Wally told him.

“Yeah man. D'you know why?” Roy added.

“No. And I don’t even know if everyone’s gonna bother showing up. He did it in a group chat but there still hasn’t been a response from anyone. I dunno. I honestly think I’d be less stressed if he’d said there was a mass break out at Arkham and we needed to meet for assignments.”

“Ok, that’s depressing. Also the fact that breakouts don’t even phase you anymore? Like? The hell?” Wally said, still obviously on an energy drink high.

“If we start an argument about rogues we’re gonna get so off topic and be here forever,” Dick shot back.

Grumbling could be heard from Wally but Dick was satisfied that his friend wouldn’t say anything.

“Lemme guess. You’re worried about Jason. You think cause Bruce asked you guys to come he’s not gonna bother,” Roy speculated.

“Pretty much,” Dick sighed. “Have you heard from him recently?”

“Sorry man. Last I heard he was running around with that new team of his. I think he’s still a little pissed I rejoined the Titans,” Roy replied.

“Yeah. Ok. Thanks.”

“Not a problem. Whine at us anytime, that’s what friends are for,” Dick could hear the smirk Roy was giving him.

“That and getting drunk at dive bars while listening to crappy cover bands together,” Wally chimed in.

Dick burst out laughing at that. “You can’t even get drunk!”

“So? Doesn’t mean I can’t go with!” Wally sounded wounded but Roy didn’t care about offending the other redhead and Dick knew his friend was about ready to crash and wasn’t going to remember much of this conversation anyway.

“Go to sleep West,” Roy got out between snorts.

“Seriously dude. Way too many red bulls.”

Wally grumbled and finally said, “Fine. Whatever. Text bout what happens,” before signing off.

“So do you think he’ll show?” Roy asked once he caught his breath.

“I honestly don’t know. As far as I’ve heard none of us have done anything to particularly piss him off recently. Not even Bruce. And it was a request, granted he’s going to just expect us all to be there but the text at least made it sound optional. And it said Alfred would be there which is always a plus for Jay.”

“Well good luck and keep me in the loop. I’m always willing to act as an outside opinion on your family’s drama,” Roy told him.

Dick chuckled. “That’s just because it makes your family drama look tame.”

“You bet! We made be loud and extremely dysfunctional but at least we haven’t tried to kill each other.”

“You make that sound like it happens a lot,” Dick whined.

“Dude.”

“Ok, ok. I’ll text you later.” Dick closed the game and pulled his headset off. Tossing it onto the coffee table he laid down on the couch. He was still unsure about what was going to happen later that night but he at least felt better knowing that he had friends who would let him vent afterward.

Dick swung his legs off the couch and stood in one fluid motion. He grabbed his phone, headphones, and keys and decided to go for a jog. It was a nice day, Gotham wasn’t too busy on a Saturday in the early afternoon, maybe he could have a normal jog for once. He returned to his apartment 20 minutes later after avoiding no less than six paparazzi, being cat called about ten times, and literally running into Helena. She had been out for a jog too and while he was trying to lose a particularly insistent cameraman they had both rounded the corner at the same time going in opposite directions. She had not been happy, yelling something about how he should watch where he’s going and “Dammit Grayson! That hurt!” As well as a mix of fairly creative curses in Italian.

Dick had offered to make it up to her but she just waved him off. Saying “You and Barbara are obviously both distracted. Bruce has got you ex sidekicks seriously messed up with these mind games. I’ll just send you Zinda and my next bar tab.” Dick had felt himself visibly pale at that and she had laughed and said not to worry before continuing on her way.

Dick was still pondering over her mention that Babs was distracted too. Obviously Bruce’s text was having some effect on her that Helena had mentioned it. Normally, the Birds were close knit and never talked about personal business with the rest of Gotham’s heroes. Especially not the personal business of Oracle their fearless leader.

Flopping back down on his couch Dick fished his phone out of his pocket. He tapped out a quick text to Babs and hit send, hopping something hadn’t suddenly sprung up that needed her attention. Luckily that wasn’t the case as her response was practically immediate.

~What’s up boy wonder? Helena said you ran into her and that you were super frazzled.

~I was wondering if you had heard anything about what Bruce wants us for tonight.

Her response to that took a bit longer and her words were obviously a bit more measured.

~No, I haven’t heard a thing. Why? Have you?

~No. I talked to Tim this morning and he says that he’s in the dark too. It’s obviously nothing serious but it’s been bugging me all day.

Her response to that was more relaxed. If he had to guess he’d say she had thought he knew something she didn’t, and Dick knew that she hated that.

~Me too! I can’t figure out what it is he could possibly want to talk about that we ALL need to be there. I mean, you boys and Cass yeah. Me, Steph, & Harper? Idk. Have you heard from Damian or Jason at all?

~No. I was going to head over in a bit to bug D though. Nothing on Jay.

~Yeah, same here. I kinda hope he comes at least for Alfred but…

~I was thinking the same thing Babs.

~Oh well. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. I’ll talk to ya later pixie boots.

~You’re one to talk miss go-go.

Her response was simply the eye roll emoji and Dick snorted as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. He let his head fall against the back of the couch and fell into a light doze. He woke from his brief nap and patted his shorts for his phone. There were no new messages from Babs, Bruce, Tim or anyone else. No missed calls or alien invasions either. The time told him he ought to get ready and head to the manor if he wanted to pump Damian for information. As well as just hang out with his youngest brother.

Once dressed in jeans and a clean t-shirt Dick headed to garage that occupied the basement of his apartment building. Shrugging on a leather jacket and fastening his helmet he gave the bike’s engine a good rev before driving up the ramp and onto the streets of Gotham.

Knowing that the cops would definitely try and stop Dick Grayson for speeding he made sure to restrain himself from weaving in and out of traffic, especially because Nightwing would be pushing the motorcycle through its paces soon enough. Sitting in Gotham wasn’t enjoyable but being able to fly up the manor’s long gravel drive sure made up for it. He pulled in next to Steph’s purple Mini Cooper, glad to see the Compact was holding up for her. He cut the engine and took his helmet off, giving his head a shake to undo any helmet hair.

Bounding up the steps he swung the over large front door open with a shout of “Hello? Anybody actually above ground?”

The sound of running feet could be heard coming from somewhere on the second floor as Dick put his jacket and helmet on the coat rack. He turned just as he heard a sharp “-tt-” coming from the balcony at the top of the steps. Damian stood there with his arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed, the twitch of his lips betrayed his annoyed facade. “Must you be so abhorrently loud, Grayson?”

“Must you be using SAT vocab at such a young age?” Dick shot back with a grin.

Damian rolled his eyes but his arms fell to his sides and his mouth finally turned up into a smile. “Brown and Row have coerced Cassandra into assisting in appropriating my room, the extra person on my side would be helpful.”

Dick chuckled, “Whatever you say Dami.” He ran up the stairs and followed Damian down the hall to his room. Sure enough the three girls were spread over the plush carpeting, nail polish bottles and other manicure supplies between them.

Damian crossed the room and sat himself on his bed next to Titus and Alfred the cat. The three watched the teen girls from their perch, Damian with minor annoyance, Titus with amusement, and Alfred with the type of utter nonchalance only achieved by felines. The girls glanced up at Dick who had paused in the doorway. Cass’s face immediately lit up and she fluidly rose to her feet and came over to wrap her arms around his neck. Dick returned the hug as she whispered a warm “Hi” in his ear.

“Hey Cass,” he murmured back. She let go and skipped back to the others. Harper gave him a small, two-fingered salute while Steph waved with a large smile. “How long have you been here?”

“Too long,” Damian instantly grumbled.

Harper snorted and Steph nearly doubled over in a fit of giggles. Cass quirked an eyebrow at her little brother before calmly sticking her tongue out at him. “We came for brunch with Cass as we had originally planned and just stayed since we all received the super mysterious text,” Steph told him once she had recovered from her laughter, which had doubled thanks to Cass’s antics.

Dick nodded in response and sat himself down on the floor next to them. Damian gave a short “-tt- Traitor.” He did however edge closer to the end of the bed where he could participate in their conversation.

Dick picked up a bottle of forest green polish and examined it. Cass held out her left hand to him, the fingers of which had been painted, to show him the color. He nodded and gestured that she let him do her other hand. Cass turned to face him as Dick shook the bottle. “So have you guys heard anything about tonight?”

“I wish,” Harper said with a slight huff. “He just kinda grumbled and bolted when we asked.”

“Seriously. We were having our lovely quasi weekly brunch and chatting with Alfred and chasing away this gremlin,” she waved her bright yellow nails at Damian who furrowed his brows indignantly. “All of a sudden, Mr I-am-the-night-and-cannot-properly-socialize-without-being-forced-by-my-over-energetic-ex-sidekick-or-alien-and-amazon-besties walks in-”

Dick nearly choked as a laugh burst out of his mouth, interrupting Steph.

“Can I help you?” She deadpanned with a raised brow.

“I’m good. Just, that’s a new one. Keep going.”

Steph sniffed and flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “As I was saying. Bruce walks in and kinda blinks at all of us sitting in his kitchen. Using his surprise to our advantage Harper courageously seized the moment and asked him what exactly this family gathering will entail tonight. He froze, looking exactly like a cat-sized crime alley rat in the batmobile’s headlights, while Cass jumped up to block his exit. I immediately jumped to add my assistance by asking if this means that Harper, Duke, and myself are technically family too at this point. He just blinked, grabbed a muffin, said something highly unintelligible, and beat a hasty retreat.” Steph gave a sharp nod before turning back to her nails.

Dick had to stop doing Cass’s nails as he was trying too hard on not laughing to keep his hand steady. She swatted at him before rolling her eyes and turning to Damian. “Come,” she said, handing him the nail polish. Damian blinked but skootched to the floor next to Cass and diligently began painting her nails.

Dick wiped at his eyes, trying to remember why he had been so against Steph being Batgirl when the two so easily amused each other. “So we’ve got nothing?” he finally asked.

“Nope,” Cass said, admiring Damian’s handiwork.

Harper tossed a bottle of matte black at the youngest Robin and waved her hand toward Dick. Damian blinked but began shaking the bottle and moved to sit in front of Dick. With a shrug he gave his little brother his hand to be painted. “We tracked down Duke then and asked him what he knew. Nada. Honestly we were kinda hoping you’d bring some info with you,” Harper added.

“I’ve got nothing,” he told them with a shrug. “Neither do Tim or Babs.”

“Have you tried contacting Todd?” Damian looked up from Dick’s hand.

“No. He threatened to have baby ducks imprint on me if I called him again.” Damian nodded sagely at that.

“I’m sorry, what?” Harper’s head and eyebrows had shot up.

“He’s been doing that lately. Something about how ‘we all have a death wish but we’ll take care of cute baby animals’ or something,” Steph said, using a poor imitation of Jason’s voice as she acted out his threat.

“You’re kidding?” Harper obviously didn’t believe them.

Cass just shook her head gravely. “No. And baby ducks? No patrol for months.”

“Plus they’re so darn cute like how could you not want to love them?” Steph said in a rush.

“Brown is correct. Also, it is entirely within Todd’s skill set to get them to imprint on one of us.” Damian looked at Harper seriously before turning back to apply another coat to Dick’s nails.

Harper blinked at them before narrowing her eyes, “If you guys are shitting me right now I swear…”

“Scouts honor!” Dick called and held up the three-finger salute.

Damian batted at his hand. “I swear Grayson if I have to redo this,” he grumbled.

“C’mere,” Steph tugged on Damian’s arm and held up a dark shimmering blue. He nodded and allowed her to begin painting.

“So do we have any ideas at least? I know you guys aren’t the type to just let something go,” Dick watched the others.

Cass shot him a smirk. “Understatement.”

There was a knock on the door frame and they all looked up to see Tim and a rather unsure looking Duke standing there. “Alfred told us that you were all up here. Mind if we come in?”

Damian sniffed, “It’s not like my opinion matters at this point.”

“I’m going to take that as a yes…” Tim walked in and took a seat next to Steph.

She squinted at him before leaning forward to search through the pile of small glass bottles. She found whatever one she was looking for and held it up triumphantly. “Maroon?” She asked Tim, waving it just in front of his nose. Tim shrugged and let her pull his hands towards him.

Duke sat down cautiously next to Dick. “So do they always do your nails or…?”

Dick smiled at him. “We don’t really get a say in the matter. Cass just paints them when you fall asleep if you say no.” The girl in question waggled her brows and grinned.

“What about Bruce’s?” Duke asked as he watched Harper shifting through the pile, holding colors up for Cass to consider.

“Ballet Slipper. Once a month,” Cass showed Duke the light pink color. His eyes widened in disbelief and Dick couldn’t help but laugh. Finally, Harper held up a pale orange that both Cass and Dick nodded at. She crawled towards Duke and pulled his hands onto her lap.

“So ideas regarding our impending doom?” Dick asked.

“Like I told you before, I think it’s a reading of his will. He even texted Kate and with the exception of Damian she’s his only living blood relative,” Tim said, peering over the top of Steph’s head.

“Damn Timbo. Way to be morbid. Also, why would I be here if that were the case seeing a how I am legally deceased.” They all whipped their heads to see Jason leaning in the doorway, a smirk on his lips and a nasty glint in his eye. He sauntered in and plopped himself down between Steph and Cass. “Give me the most obnoxious color you have,” he challenged.

“How bout this?” Harper wiggled her own bright metallic pink at him.

Jason scrunched up his nose with a “nah.”

Dick rummaged around in the pile before pulling out a glitter gold. He threw it to Jason who caught it and beamed. “Why thank you Dickie-bird.”

“So, uh, why did you come then?” Duke asked.

Jason shrugged and began to paint his own nails. “You know what they say. Curiosity killed the cat.”

“But satisfaction brought it back,” Duke finished the expression.

Jason gave the other boy a Cheshire smile. “I knew I liked you.” He then continued to add layers of glitter. They all just stared in shock for a few seconds. Jason looked up and his eyes skipped past them as he smiled. “Hey there Barbie. This Batgirl is free for manicure giving,” he said pointing to Cass.

Dick turned to see Babs just outside the door. Her expression was amused but the set of her mouth was definitely her trying to look annoyed. With an eye roll she wheeled herself into the room. “I thought we were supposed to be here for seven. Why is it that we all managed to get here just under three hours earlier?”

Dick pushed himself back up onto the bed so that he would be eye level with Barbara as the others offered up a jumble of explanations. “Paranoia” “Fear of the unknown” “Intrigue” and “Who the hell knows” were the few Dick could make out.

He mumbled “Slow day at the office” and caused Babs to crack up.

“That it is,” she told him with a smile. Cass held up a dark purple that Babs nodded at and before she could get up Dick grabbed the bottle. He turned to Babs and motioned for her hand. They spent the rest of the time leading up to the big meeting sitting in a circle in Damian’s room with painted nails and the animals now nudging for attention.

That was exactly how Bruce and Kate found them when they went looking for them. Dick had seen them coming up the hall and gave a quick jut of his chin to acknowledge them. They had stopped short of coming in though, Kate wearing a huge smile and Bruce his more subdued but still genuine lip twitch.

They stood there for a few seconds, watching as Steph and Jason fell against each other in a fit of giggles. Cass had taken the tiny hair rubber bands and was using them to give Damian braids. Duke and Tim were engaged in a detailed discussion of Lord of the Rings and Harper was letting Babs style her short blue hair. All in all they looked like an average, happy family.

Bruce cleared his throat and they all turned to see him and Kate. Cass leapt to her feet and hopped over the legs of everyone else to go give Bruce a hug. Dick couldn’t help but smile because the hug was obviously more forceful than the one she had given him. Or Bruce hadn’t been expecting it as he had swayed slightly when she had jumped up to wrap her arms around his neck. Kate laughed and ruffled Cass’s hair.

Once Cass released him Bruce attempted to recover by smoothing out the wrinkles in his polo shirt. Dick and the others simply waited, knowing that he would speak when ready. He looked up and gave another small smile. “Thank you all for coming. Kate has… explained to me that having monthly gatherings might help you all with your stress levels and, ah, work on interpersonal relations.”

Kate rolled her eyes and give him a sharp jab in the side courtesy of her elbow. Bruce shot her a wounded look that Dick had to try very hard not to laugh at but his cousin ignored it. “What the stick in the mud is trying to say is that we’re having a game night because you all need a morale boost. Now c’mon, Alfred’s got dinner ready.”

With that Kate turned on her heel and marched back down the hall. Bruce gave a sharp nod before following her in a hasty retreat. They all looked around at each other in a stunned silence. Dick pinched himself for good measure, this wouldn’t be the weirdest dream he’d ever had but it was still good to rule out the possibility.

“What the actual, ever-loving fuck?” Jason finally said.

“What he said,” Harper pointed at Jason, eyes wide.

“Grayson, you have the most experience with Father and his moods. What could this be about?” Damian looked up at him from the carpet.

Dick shrugged and shook his head. “I’m honestly as lost as you are. Maybe we should go eat and, I don’t know, enjoy it?”

They all looked much too suspicious to actually enjoy anything but Dick dutifully herded them towards the dining room. Tim hung back until he had fallen in step with Dick. “You don’t actually think he wants us to play monopoly with him or something?” The younger man asked.

“I really don’t know Tim. Kate’s been getting him to actually be Bruce rather than Brucie or Batman lately and this is obviously all her.”

Tim snorted, “Ya think?”

Dick ruffled Tim’s hair and gained a rather interesting hand flail and cat like yowling combination in protest. Finger combing his hair back into position Tim sent him a glare. “I think we should trust Kate on this one and see what happens. Also, you either need a haircut or one of those ponytails Cass had.”

Tim’s glare turned up to full on bat and had Dick not known the kid, or been just about anyone else, he probably would’ve run in fear. As it was he could handle a few dirty looks from Tim.

Dinner was delicious, as everything Alfred made was. The conversation was semi-normal too. Steph complaining about classes, Harper talking about her work at the clinic, Dick told them about his run in with Helena that Babs then added the other half of the story to. No one made a single death threat, no food or utensils were thrown, and all insults were good natured teasing. For a second Dick thought he fell into a parallel world.

That feeling only got worse as Alfred chased them to the living room while he cleaned up. Jason stayed to help and the butler begrudgingly let him. The two joined the others soon enough and they began an intense game of Cards Against Humanity. Alfred and Babs soon took the lead, surprising everyone except maybe Alfred himself.

Bruce came in dead last, only earning that position by having a single less card than Damian. Steph and Jason tied for second and in a surprise twist Cass won. Kate was still cackling at some of the combinations that had won and Babs was telling her she could send the security footage to her later. They played well into the night and Barbara contacted the Birds to patrol as Bruce indicated that the assembled vigilantes were not leaving anytime soon. By the wee hours of the morning they had all stumbled upstairs to their respective bedrooms with the exception of Kate, Bruce, Alfred, and Dick himself.

He had stretched out on the floor watching as Kate slowly took over the sofa and Bruce was forced to go claim his recliner. Alfred chuckled from the love seat, a late-night cup of tea in hand.

“So how do you think it went, chum?” Bruce asked him once he had settled.

Dick shrugged, feeling his shoulders push against the carpet. “You had us all really worried. Tim was convinced that you were going to read us your will.”

Bruce snorted, Kate cracked up and sat up to be able to look down at Dick. “You’re kidding,” she accused.

Dick smirked, “I wish.”

They all laughed and once it had died down Alfred said, “Well you do have a tendency to have the whole family over only in the case of emergencies, Master Bruce.”

That received a small “Hnnh.”

“He’s right. I was telling Roy and Wally that I would’ve been less worried if it had been an Arkham breakout.”

Bruce shot him a wounded look before frowning at a point just above the fireplace. “I want to try and change that,” he finally said.

“If it helps I think this was a really good start. Monthly family game nights definitely are a thing normal people do. And I had fun, I think the others did too. Even Jason,” Dick told him candidly. Bruce nodded, a small smile forming. “Just next time don’t call it a family gathering. You scared the crap out of all of us.”

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forkanna · 6 years ago

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NOTE: These next chapters will be rather short but the story is winding down. Can't believe it's finally going to be all online! Took me far longer than I ever expected, but I'm glad I began this journey. Thanks to everyone who took it with me despite delays.

Glinda, Elphaba and Nessarose had been gathered around the lunch table for nearly twenty minutes before Jellia arrived to execute a short bow, announce "Princesses Ozma and Dorothy will arrive shortly," and then bow back out of the room. They all shared looks of mild surprise and interest.

"Announcing them together," Elphaba mused, tapping at her chin. "That's… conspicuous."

"Don't jump to conclusions, sister. You and Glinda are always arriving together, yet I never make a fuss."

"But you do know why we're arriving together. And I suspect it's for the same reason those two are today."

"Could be, but it could just as easily not be. That's what I mean!"

Doing her best not to get between squabbling siblings, Glinda sipped at her water and made no remark. Really, she was as hopeful as they were that things were going well between the two young royals, but she felt unreasonably as if she might jinx it if she spoke her hopes aloud. But despite this, she still sat bolt upright when the door opened again.

There was definitely no longer any denying it. Even though they were both dressed much as they were at breakfast, there was a rumpled aspect to their clothing now. And their hair! Ozma's was unruly and stuck out at odd angles, and Dorothy's braids were definitely more lopsided now. To their credit, they were mostly calm and walking quite casually, despite a little additional pinkness in their cheeks.

"Why, hello," Elphaba said in a prim and proper voice.

"Good afternoon," Ozma said with a slight dip of her head as she took her seat.

"You two have a nice chat?" Glinda asked.

"We did, I believe. Did we, Dorothy?"

A little startled, Dorothy smiled up at them from where she was sitting down. "Oh! Well, yes, o'course; I think we can put that business about Tip behind us now."

"Good, good! See? Told you that all you had to do was talk. Work through things."

But Elphaba wasn't finished. Glinda found herself wishing she knew a spell to zip her lips closed as she listened to her saying, "I wonder how much talking you did…"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Ozma laughed as she motioned for one of the royal servers to bring whatever had been prepared for lunch. Especially since everyone else had already eaten theirs.

"I mean the highly conspicuous purple mark on Miss Dorothy's neck."

The room went silent, and Dorothy's napkin fell from her hand where she had been about to spread it across her lap. A heartbeat too late to cover it before it was seen, she slapped her hand over the little bruise, cheeks flushing almost to the hue of Ozma's tangled hair.

"O-oh, that? No, y-you don't- I must've bumped into- well, I can't imagine where-"

"Don't tease her," Nessa hissed from across the table, and Glinda nodded.

"It's alright," Ozma sighed, reaching up for her water. Her hand was shaking, and Glinda felt her heart going out to the young queen. "But I… would appreciate it if you didn't tease her further."

"Protective paramour," Elphaba observed. But when the queen's eyes went wide, she raised a hand to forestall her. "Alright, alright. I think it's marvellous, and am of the opinion that there's no sense pussyfooting around the topic, but if you want to pretend nothing happened up there, I guess that's your choice."

Tutting at her own girlfriend, Glinda muttered, "You make it impossible, Elphie. Just let them go at their own speed!"

"We can't congratulate them properly if they're putting on airs."

"But it's their decision," she said with a pained smile in Ozma's direction. For her part, Ozma was just burying her face in her hands to hide the burning of her freckled cheeks. "Just as our announcement is our decision."

"What announcement?" Nessa said, seizing on the subject.

"You little minx," Elphaba growled at her, but she was smiling a little. "Using this to distract us from Dorothy and Ozma's indiscretions. Very clever." Still, she didn't fight it any more than that, turning to the rest of the table.

"Glinda has blackmailed me into marrying her." A swat at her arm made her change the announcement. "Alright! There was no blackmailing! You always accuse me of being 'no fun', and then when I joke you attack me! Can't win with you!"

Laughing, Dorothy clapped her hands together. "That's wonderful! Oh my goodness, a wedding — never been to one before!"

"You sure you want to go to this one? It's two women." A pinch to Elphaba's arm made her yelp.

"No, no, she's right," the girl told Glinda, who lowered her arm instead of pinching her partner again. "I've been… well, I guess a little silly about that. Seemed right and proper to me at the time, but seeing you two, how close you are? Can't imagine it bein' against God's will or anything like that now. So… so I'm awful sorry for how I behaved back then."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Glinda told her immediately. "Things are different in Kansas, I'm sure."

"They sure are," Elphaba conceded in a weary voice. When Glinda patted her thigh, she flinched as was usual, but it was only slight and she followed the action by putting her hand on top of Glinda's to keep it there. Progress.

"Hopefully, you won't mind if I help plan your wedding," Ozma said with a slight smile. "Celebrating the two of you would make me very happy; you've done so much for me, and for Oz; I think it's our turn to return the sentiment."

"Listen to the little queen." Ozma waved her away, and Elphaba chuckled. "You're really growing into this role."

Dorothy turned to Nessa and grasped her arm, hissing excitedly, "Won't this be fun? Oh, we can have hayrides, and bobbin' for apples, and everything! Where should we have it? Right here in the palace, I expect — oh, but I don't know if you do church weddings in Oz…"

"I suspect we do many things very differently in Oz," Nessa laughed. Then pointed to her own neck. "Um…"

Picking up on what she meant, Dorothy moved her hand back up to cover the blemish given to her by the princess formerly known as Tip. Glinda's eyes twinkled merrily to see how almost protective she was of the mark signifying that she and Ozma had come to an understanding, and that it was a positive one. As far as she was concerned, all was right with the world.

~ o ~

Not that it could last.

Roughly a week later, the five women were still gushing excitedly about wedding preparations. Autumn was a goodly pair of weeks away, and the season wouldn't truly begin to turn for some time following that, so they had plenty of time. Still, somehow the entire palace had whipped itself into a frenzy. Given that the Councilwomen had come to be nearly synonymous with the queen herself, and held near-equal power despite not demanding the same quality of reverence, the news that two of them would be marrying each other had slowly begun to spread, until the point that Glinda even got congratulated when she ventured into the town to poke through shops at her leisure.

"And this stranger asks me if I'm going to wear a Robe Of Leaves or not!" she was blustering as they paged through a book of illustrations the chefs had come up with, featuring many varied designs of rich and decadent wedding cakes. "As if it's any of his business!"

"I'm also hearing a lot of questions about what it's going to look like with two women," Nessa sighed from where she was flipping through some paperwork nearby. "How you'll start the Dance, since traditionally the man bows first, then the woman curtsies, and so forth."

Rolling her eyes, Elphaba said, "I'm taller, so I don't mind assuming the 'male' role. Just makes a lot of decisions easier as far as I'm concerned."

"What about this one?" Dorothy cooed, pointing at the chocolatey confection on the page. It was quite endearing how she was snuggled up so close to Ozma, but also seated next to Elphaba. Before they had brought her back from Kansas, she had been far more comfortable around Glinda and Nessa, but being rescued by the other Witch had put her at ease around the gruff green grouch.

"Hmm. I wanted something simpler." She leafed through another page.

"It shouldn't be 'simple'," Ozma countered, her arm looped around Dorothy's back. They were a little more affectionate in public than Elphaba and Glinda were, but the type of affection was far more innocent and chaste; holding hands and petting backs. On very rare occasion when it was just the five of them, perhaps a peck on the cheek, but no more. "The people want a chance to see a spectacle."

Exasperated, she pushed the book away and folded her arms over her chest. "Doesn't matter what I want from this event, does it?"

"Elphie," Glinda sighed, putting her hand in the small of her back. "Of course it does. Besides, they aren't invited to the after-reception reception. There we can go crazy however we want!"

"Oh, now we have to plan an after-reception reception, too?!" An instant later, she caught the meaning and the gleam in Glinda's eye, and she cleared her throat. "Ah."

"Ah," she giggled back as she bumped her gently with her shoulder, and Elphaba sighed, trying to let some of the tension out of her body.

"Just don't get too noisy," Nessa said. "The other night, I heard a staff member trying to describe the noises they heard coming from your room, and it was… more than I ever needed to know about my half-sister."

That did actually make Elphaba blanch and duck her head. "Ugh. I'll see if I can whip up a spell to make our door a little more… soundproof. Sorry about that."

"What did they hear?" Ozma mused with a slight smile. But Dorothy looked affronted at her for asking, so she whispered, "Only joking, only joking."

"Do you want some firsthand pointers?"

That definitely silenced the embarrassed queen. But they never had a chance to find out if she would recover and issue some retort, for the doors burst open, a young pageboy scampering up to the table and wheezing with the effort of having run quite some way.

"Majesty! Councilwomen!"

Ozma rose to her feet, Dorothy drawing back so that she could. "What's the matter?" But he only panted for breath. "Speak!"

"The Wizard…!"

No other word was required.

Immediately, the group was racing through the hallways of the palace toward the chamber in which the Wizard had been slumbering for many months. No change had ever been reported. They fed him broth and a healer would bathe him with a sponge once per week, and otherwise he had been no better than a vegetable. By that point, Elphaba had most certainly written off ever speaking with him again, and Glinda couldn't say she blamed her. After all, what was the use in making oneself sick over an event which may never come to pass?

Except now, it seemed that it might.

When they entered, it was to the sight of the frail old man propped up very slightly on a pile of pillows. A healer was at his side and holding his arm gently, feeling his forehead with the back of her hand. They kept his beard trimmed neatly, but it still looked unkempt from rolling around in his sleep, as he would once in awhile.

"Go on," Glinda hissed into Elphaba's ear. So she went. The healer moved aside to allow her to approach, and she crouched down beside him.

"Hello, Father."

His eyes slit open a little further, and he let out a weak chuckle. "Oh… there you are. It's… good to see you again."

"It's good to see you awake." This may have been a slight stretch of the truth, but now was not the time to shout at the sickly man. "I've had a lot of questions for you."

"Oh? Well, why… didn't you ask them, then?"

"You couldn't have responded before now," she told him gently. A lot moreso than she probably wished to.

"Then go on, m'dear." Even if his voice was reedy and weak, he seemed to be trying to speak as genially as he always had — once they found out he was the man behind the enormous head, of course.

"Alright. Where are you from?"

Glinda nodded to herself. That was a question the two of them had debated many a time; he did seem to be from Gillikin, perhaps, but also behaved a bit unlike any man from her country that she had ever known. Maybe it was a little blunt, but she couldn't fault Elphaba for wanting to cut to the heart of the matter, especially if they had limited time to speak.

"From Kansas, of course," he chuckled. As that chuckle turned into a cough, Dorothy gasped and held a hand in front of her mouth. "Well, really, from Nebraska, which is… close enough to Kansas that it might as well… be the same thing."

He gestured for a drink of water, which the healer offered. That was indeed a shock. Never in all her life would Glinda have guessed that their former Ruler, Oz the Great and Terrible, was from the same strange and twisted land which Dorothy had once called home. Then again, she did have to concede that Dorothy looked as much like a Gillikin as he did. Maybe, many hundreds of years ago, all of the people in both Oz and Kansas — or Nebraska, whatever that land was like — had all been one and the same, and some great event had created a schism between their peoples. None may ever know.

"This Nebraska," Elphaba asked in a curiously pained tone once he had calmed himself. "You were born there? How in Oz could you have come to Oz?"

Wheezing, he pushed to sit up a little more, but his muscles couldn't manage the task anymore. "I… was a circus performer, y'see. Had a great balloon with my initials on it, 'OZ'; the rest of my name is… quite long, and unimportant. I would manoeuvre my balloon all over to… draw crowds to our travelling show, calling out to them so they would see… the beautiful banner beneath. 'Bailum and Barney's Great Consolidated Shows,' it said! Ah, but the banner was lost when I… when the ropes came loose and I got blown all the way to Oz. Naturally, the good people here saw my initials and… assumed I was their next Ruler. A great magician to have flown here."

"What's a balloon?" Ozma asked, but Dorothy patted her arm and shushed her. Glinda assumed she could explain such strange Kansas-related phenomenon another time.

"And then… Morrible approached me. She saw how the people naturally seemed to offer… their respect to the 'Wizard from the Sky'. So, with the King and Queen dead under… mysterious circumstances, and… no one left to rule, she suggested I step in. And I thought, 'Why not? Seems like a better job than the one I had'. And that… was that."

Glinda couldn't help snapping in exasperation, "And you never tried to find the rightful heir to the throne?"

"Didn't know of her until… some time afterward. And by then, I had no idea where I might… find such a girl, if indeed she… still lived. Besides, I had Emeralds to mine, and laws to establish, and… so many things…"

"Like the enslavement of Animals," Elphaba said in a cold but even tone.

"Yes," he sighed, sagging visibly into the bed with his eyes downcast. "Well… it seemed a better alternative than… letting everyone revolt from the food shortages."

"We've made great strides in fixing the food shortages. Through hard work, and fair taxation instead of bilking the citizens of Oz for all they were worth, and Morrible hoarding the richest foods for herself. Things you could have done instead of- of cheating them. But you're really quite the cheat all around, aren't you?"

The smile wasn't kind, wasn't ingratiating. Merely bemused with the absurdity of life. "It's the only talent I've ever had, Miss Elphaba. Being a… humbug. That's what I did for the circus, too."

"Fine." It took another couple of breaths for her to calm down. "Fine, you're a humbug. How did you meet my mother? Did you swindle her into your bed the way you swindled yourself into the Palace?"

"Well… after a fashion. I had just come to this land, and was… seeing all that it had to offer. Including sampling some of the local flavour." The way he said this, and the precise type of cough afterward, made Elphaba close her eyes in mortification. Ozma curled her lip slightly. "The Munchkinland women are… well, not very welcoming, but… some of them that frequented bars were. You said your… name was Thropp, didn't you?"

"I did."

"Must have been… the previous Eminent's wife. Or sister. Haven't the faintest idea."

"Our mother," Nessarose offered, stepping forward. Only then did he seem to recognise her, and his eyebrows twitched upward very slightly. "Melena."

That word did bring a smile to his face as nothing else had since they entered the room. "Ahhh, yes. Melena. She was… adventurous, to be sure. Wild in bed. Did this thing with her tongue that-"

"FATHER!"

"Quite right, quite right. Isn't decent to go into those kinds of details around your daughter, is it? But I've never been a… father to anyone before, though I always longed to be. So I… don't know the first thing… about how to behave like one." Coughing again, he rolled one hand in the air, which looked frail and wasted as the rest of him. "We were both drunk. She had a… strong like for the green Emerald City liquor I had with me, and downed… almost the entire bottle. Powerful stuff; Morrible brewed it herself. Thought I was the only… one who had a taste for it, until she came along. Then, well, things progressed, and the next morning… I moved on. Never saw her again."

Elphaba couldn't restrain her malice. "That's because she's dead. Dead from eating milk flowers to prevent her second child from being a green monstrosity, like the first was because of your bottle of… of disgustingness!"

"Elphie," Nessa breathed, catching her elbow. Though the elder sister remained ramrod straight, she didn't push her away, and let her comfort her to some degree.

"Regret is a funny thing," Oz was saying weakly, voice even more faint than it had been before. "If I'd known, I… well, there's nothing to know. You've seen what kind of… man I am. Not much of one. Sentimental, but a humbug and a fraud. I let… that Morrible woman push me around, with her spells and-"

Another cough, and the healer had to give him another drink of water. Once he was through, she had him settled back against the pillow. Elphaba approached again, having mastered herself enough to be near the man she blamed for so much misfortune in her life.

"Father… do you promise you had nothing to do with the disappearance of Ozma?"

"Ozma? Oh, the girl?"

Ozma stepped forward, squaring her shoulders. The circlet was perfectly balanced on the center of her head. "I am Queen Ozma. Your press secretary gave me to a witch to be hidden away for years, and treated badly, and… it was not a nice thing to do to a baby."

"Suppose it wasn't." His sigh was weary. "No, I didn't. But… I suspected she knew. Things she mentioned. Could have asked. But it was… easier not to know. Safer."

"Ah."

"You're a lovely queen," he remarked with a warmth to his smile. "Probably… would have offered you that green bottle in my younger days. Not now, though. I'm… too old to go chasing young ladies."

The last bit saved him from a slap from Elphaba that probably would have meant the end of him. Reining in her open palm, she instead squared her shoulders and looked down at him, voice firm and authoritative. "Morrible is finished. Your reign is finished. Now, Queen Ozma sits rightfully on the throne, with we 'wicked witches' as her Councilwomen. Or Coven, if you prefer. Young Dorothy, who you sent to kill me, is a Councilwoman, too."

"I am?" Dorothy asked, shocked as anyone.

"She will be, in time. And… Glinda and I are getting married, Father."

As the man blinked stupidly upward, Glinda approached, only for Elphaba to catch her hand and yank it forward to wrap it around her own elbow, closing her hand over it once in place. "Oh," was her only remark, though she tried for a demure smile.

"Really?" he said, eyebrows much higher now. "Fancy that! The women of Oz are… truly peculiar, aren't they?"

"I love her. It's not peculiar to love someone, but then again, I expect you don't know the first thing about love."

"Expect I… don't. Never had… any from my father, and never… had the chance to show… any to you. Since I didn't know you were…"

His words petered out. For a moment, they were horrified and thought he had passed on, but the healer checked his vitals, then shooed them toward the door. Another stepped in to take her place right away, adjusting his sheets and making him comfortable.

"What happened?" Glinda hissed.

"He's fallen asleep. You'll have to come back another time. It's… not looking good, but he may live a few months yet. We're doing all we can for him; frankly, it's a miracle he woke up again at all by this point."

And that was that. Elphaba shook her head idly as she stared at the closed door, green eyes beginning to mist over. "Ridiculous. This man has caused me nothing but pain and strife from the moment we met. Why should I care that he's…"

Glinda's arms slid around Elphaba's waist, rustling the fabric of her black dress. "He's your father. And even if he's no prize, he's still an enormitude better than old Frex was."

"Hey!" Nessa snapped.

"To her. To you, he was a peach."

"Fair," she sighed, petting along Elphaba's back as well. "I mean, I am sorry, Fabala. I've already been through this, so… I know there isn't anything I could say that will help. Just to let you know I'm here for you."

Nodding her understanding, Elphaba turned and kissed Nessa's cheek, petted her shoulder. They shared a tight smile of recognition; grief was a great equaliser. Then she turned back to push her nose into Glinda's, taking as much comfort from their closeness as she could. Glinda was grateful she could do that one small thing, if nothing else. After a moment, the frustrated daughter spoke again.

"This really doesn't matter in the long run. We just… we plan the wedding, go on with our lives. If he recovers… we'll figure out what to do about him then."

As they all nodded and began to move off, Dorothy said, "Well… you might do one li'l thing."

To Be Continued…

#The Coven of Oz #wicked fanfiction #forkanna writes #wizard of oz #jess the writer

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