#local celebrity good lord

[somnoir]

Gotham's newest Crime Lord - Part 1

Prompt: Dan kills the joker and unintentionally becomes a crime lord

Dan didn't mean to become a Crime Lord. It wasn't his fault that the Joker was fragile and easily killable with one punch to the head. He didn't know that the seemingly immortal clown was easily killed once the impact practically snapped his neck. So yes, Dan didn't mean for this shit to happen. Not when all he wanted to do was go to college, make sure Danny and Elle weren't attracting trouble back in Gotham academy.

It wasn't his fault that the crazy bastard thought it was a good idea to nab his siblings and try to use them for ransom. It's not his fault that his first instinct was to introduce his first to that pennywise knock-off. It'd not his fault that this city was haunted by vengeful ghosts that wanted to tear that motherfucker to shreds.

They were supposed to lay low after the mess with their parents and their name changes.

But nooooo!

They had to have an absolute hatred for clowns and now he's somehow made himself a crime lord. Why the fuck were the Joker's goons so fucking stupid?! They either tried to kill Dan for killing their boss or they tried to fall under him and make him their new leader. It was like a fucking cult in his eyes. Seriously, what the absolute fuck was going on with this shitty city?

It's not like he could call Jazz and say "Hi sis! I killed a crazy clown and I'm now the boss of his weird goons. I also might end up on the local vigilante's hitlist."

Yeah, no. He's not doing that.

But this might not be so bad... Not really. Being their boss could be treated as a source of income if he utilized the Joker's shit properly. I mean, he couldn't always rely on the fruitloops money, not when Vlad could turn traitor and use the money against them. He needed to find a way to support his siblings, one way or another.

And Clockwork did say to get a hobby. If not mass genocide then he could resort to carefully planned crime. Yes. This could work. He'll make it fucking work for the sake of his siblings.

Besides, if he was a crime lord—in motherfucking Gotham—he doubts that the GIW will even try to fuck around in a city where a ghost controlled some part of the criminal underworld.

Oh... Oh, he was gonna fucking do this.

(Clockwork watched as his most troublesome child shifts from world ender to crime lord. At least it was an upgrade from mass genocide.)

Nightwing didn't particularly know what to make of this mess. There were rumors of a new crime lord, of a new rogue.

One day, Joker's body was dropped into the harbor and found by the workers, all confused and scared as to why the Clown Prince of crime was dead in the water. It was humiliating in the Joker's standards, to be discarded like trash into the sea rather than have his body displayed for everyone to gawk at. The clown would have adored being glorified but whoever the hell killed him knew this and fucked the guy up bad.

His head snapped and his corpse tossed out like leftovers.

Jason had laughed, outright celebrated and Crime Alley was as festive as it ever was with the Red Hood blasting music through the streets and partying like there was no tomorrow. All of Gotham was celebrating, parading through the streets with pinatas that looked like the Joker. Harley would drop down from whatever roof she was on and swing her bat at the pinata, spilling red candy as everyone cheered and laughed. It was morbidly glorious.

But the festivities didn't erase the fact that someone had killed the Joker and knew what to do to disrespect him in the worst ways possible. It wasn't long until Joker's old lackeys were rallying to someone—a new boss. It wasn't odd for goons without bosses to move on to find different jobs, but for all of Joker's old minions to work for the same person? This was definitely the guy who killed the Joker.

No name, no appearance, nothing. Just quiet activity with organising his new goons to do strange errands. Stuff that didn't point them in the direction of criminal activity.

"You got anything?" Dick murmurs as Tim slouches over the batcomputer, watching as his younger brother sneered at the screen.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." He snaps, "All footage of this new rogue is immediately corrupted."

Babs hums, "And it's not like it's altered after it's been taken. The distortion happens live. They either have some tech on them or they're a meta who can avoid cameras." She adds, taking a leisure sip of the tea Alfred kindly offered them. "Whoever this is doesn't leave a trace aside from this shitty footage."

Tim groans, "I officially hate this guy!" He almost tosses his mug out of anger, shaking his head.

"Does Jason have any info on this one?"

And like the fucking menace he was, Jason pops up without another word. "He goes by Wraith." No one was startled, just sparing him a glance before nodding.

"That's it?"

"The goonions adore him." Jason shrugs, "Guy's been quick. Dealing with shit like Black Mask and other trafficking operations. Some of the kids he's saved wear clothes that have this specific symbol on them. It's a good tactic mind you. Tells people to fuck off and don't come anywhere near the kid or else he'll sic whatever bullshit he has in someone."

Dick narrowed his eyes, "Is it effective?"

"Hell yeah! One of the kids got kidnapped just last week. I went to save the poor thing but he walked out of that warehouse while the kidnappers were bleeding and sobbing." Jason once again grins, "Little Tommy threatened me if I try to arrest Wraith."

"So more anti-heri than villain. Good enough, at least." Dick sighed, shaking his head as he narrowed his eyes on the screen. More distorted footage.

"Thanks for the info, little wing."

"Just updatin' you guys. Heard some rumors that Harley's on the hunt for Wraith to thank him."

Great...

It's been a solid two months since the death of the Joker. Batman and the rest of his birds were increasingly wary of the Wraith and his two new associates that went by Phantom and Specter. No footage on the three could ever be recovered, making them all assume this was the work of a meta.

Most of them weren't sure if this guy was a threat or not. Red Hood, on the other hand, had a fairly positive opinion on the guy who's been hanging traffickers by their legs and immediately staking their claim on the kid to keep them safe.

The new crime lord was slowly dismantling the criminal underworld and building it back up to their design.

"FUCKING HELL!" Dick glared at the screen again, "That's Wraith's doing, isn't it? No way did the Riddler blow up that building."

"Wraith's only been dealing with traffickers so far. Why would he do this?" Steph murmurs, staring at the recording of a building that had suddenly went off. Numerous were dead, some barely survived.

"That's the motherfucker's symbol." Dick pointed to the glowing green symbol that looked liked a fire with some obscure letter they couldn't really make out. (Was it a D or a P?)

"Okay... Why would Wraith blow up a building and kill everyone?" Jason immediately asked, seeming to be defensive of the man. "He doesn't just kill people, Dick."

"Even so..." Bruce grunts, clearly displeased with the bloodshed. All that death...

"We're going after him." Bruce announced, "I'm not putting of the Wraith investigation anymore."

Dan stared at the pictures of the bodies, pudding out smoke without a cigarette in sight. His new minions—they preferred the term goons—were clearly apprehensive and continued to observe their new boss's expressions. This explosion had been his first act of pure and utter violence, a massacre of sorts.

He glances at Danny who melted out of the shadows, startling his goons.

"Can't say I'm not upset but I get why you did that shit." He begrudgingly admits, sitting across Dan. Phantom was a reluctant associate to his new organization of crime—ish.

"They weren't just trafficking kids, squirt. Pimping them, killing them and selling their organs, hosting matches and making meta kids fight to the fucking death." Dan clicked his tongue, "No redemption in that, Phantom."

"I get it, alright!" Danny snapped, "But the you've gotten the direct attention of the Bats now. They're gonna come for us, Wraith."

"Boss?" One of the goons—Dan remembers him as Jeremy Nelson. One guy just trying to support himself and his kid, trying to keep his sweet little daughter in school with as much money as he could get. Dan remembers giving the man a raise and a jacket with their family's symbol stitched into it—one for little Marigold.

"I'll deal with it. For now, you guys spread the word on that shit. I don't want anyone thinking I killed a bunch of kids." Dan growled, "My reputation can burn for all care, but like hell am I letting people think I hurt kids."

With Jeremy leading the other goons, he nodded and hurried out of the office to spread a word. The former Joker goons had taken a liking to their new boss, preferring his ways rather than their dead one.

"Jazz won't like this, y'know." Danny sighs, "I'm not gonna tell her. Never. But she'll find out, one way or another."

Dan frowns, "You think I don't know? It's Jazz, Danny."

"Yeah, yeah. I just didn't expect you to be like this. Crime Lord and everything."

Dan snorts, "I was the world ender, brat. This is mild compared to what I've done."

"Yeah, sure."

He shook his head, "You've got your own problems, brat. The Observants are still fussin' about you being king, your majesty."

An identical scowl looks back at Dan, and he's reminded that this kid is him. An alternate version of himself and yet they were brothers now. "I know. You killing the Joker fucked some stuff up. Apparently, the motherfucker was cursed to hell."

"Meaning?"

"He's got a lifetime of people in his shadow. Vengefu souls that want him dead." Danny huffs, "Had to deal with the paperwork cause everyone's wantin' a taste of him. I'm workin' on letting Walker release him so his victims can execute his soul."

"Cruel, little king."

"I'll give you his file. Bastard deserves to have his soul destroyed." Danny viciously grins. And once again, best reminded that this twerp is him. They were one and the same, different as well.

"Alright, alright. Fuck off now. We've still got some bats and birds to deal with." Dan immediately showed him away, noting Danny's eye roll.

"Better prepare a birdcage then."

Part 2 | Masterlist

[aethon-recs]

This Week (x2) in Tomarrymort (8 – 21 November 2024)

Hello! We have three multi-chaptered fics finishing this week, highlighted below. In addition, I made a rec list for Tomarrymort Necrophilia Fics 💀🤍 in support of the Tomarrymort Necro Fest hosted by @magical-menagerie-server, which kicks off in January.

Completed Fic:

Memories of a Killer by @chemfreak89 (M, 47k, complete) Age catches up with everyone. The infamous serial killer Voldemort now spends his time reading newspapers and making trips to the local library in search of a new crime novel. But one day he makes an interesting new acquaintance that shakes his quiet life and rekindles old flames and unknown desires. What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries (M, 17k, complete) Harry is sold at auction to a man who is clearly in some kind of disguise - Lord Riddle isn't as charming as he looks, and the way he looks at Harry... A Regency AU inspired by the magnificent artwork of @stolenviolet. If I were you by @onehitpleb (E, 9k, complete) It is 1945 and Tom is eighteen, freshly graduated, and working a non-reputable job as a store clerk in Knockturn Alley. Somehow, he grows attached to the worst sort of person - an idiot.

In addition, a recap of the author notes from last week! (Please feel free to add some extra context to your fic update in the reblog, such as a little bit about the chapter(s) updated, and I’ll throw it in the update for next week!)

A Simple Request by @shyinsunlight (E, 70k, WIP) “As for the new chapter of A Simple Request, Harry tries and (unsurprisingly) fails to keep his personal life private. Some are having the time of their life, some others, not so much. Lifts can take you up, but going down is more interesting.” Wish by @sri-verse (E, 3k, WIP) “Wish is set after Harry's fifth year where he gets the ownership of Bellatrix's vault along side the Black vault. Looking at a gold goblet, he remembers his childhood wish of buying a gold cauldron and brings back Helga Hufflepuff's cup with him to fulfill that desire, unaware that he has freed the horcrux living in it.” To the Hilt by @izharmilgram (E, 28k, WIP) “To The Hilt is a royal arranged marriage au featuring nontraditional a/b/o, political schemes, ancient greek and abrahamic religion references, feral harry potter, and lots of power play and worship. It's neither only tomarry or only harrymort, but tomarrymort—meaning the core relationship is Tom/Harry/Voldemort. This includes Tom/Voldemort.” we made universes out of bitten lips and broken hands by @boyneptunee (M, 50k, WIP) “The consequences of Harry's Time Travel seem inconsequential, at first. Until they stare right back at him with vicious eyes. There's trouble brewing in every direction, and the Future is not as certain and set in stone as one might think.” Time Stumbler by @wintumnly (T, 102k, WIP) “Harry is stuck in 1937 and spends the holidays with almost-eleven-year-old Tom Riddle. On the first day of Christmas, they both anxiously wait for Tom's Hogwarts letter together. Fluff, humor, and Tom Riddle is not good with feelings." 7 by @moontearpensfic (E, 44k, WIP) “Harry goes back in time to raise Tom AU: the boys discuss what might have happened to make Voldemort go to "sleep."” Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic (E, 22k, WIP) “Harry corrupts Tom AU: Tom and Harry celebrate Christmas--and something more! Your Wish, My Command by @moontearpensfic (E, 8k, WIP) “Hinny adopts Tom AU: Tom finally gets Harry to crack. 🔥”

*

Tomarrymort One Shots and Completed Fic

Complete | Chapters 8 and 9 of Memories of a Killer by @chemfreak89

Complete | Chapter 6 of What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries

Complete | Chapter 4 of If I were you by @onehitpleb

Complete | Chapter 19 of Sits the wind in that quarter by @mosiva

One Shot | To be Imagined by @cyandenial

One Shot | god's hands by @curioushabitforarivergod

One Shot | bad behaviour by @milkandmoon-ao3

One Shot | two ways of being: the noun & the verb by cycloalkane

One Shot | set my soul on fire by @wynnefic

One Shot | Beach Episode by @crowcrowcrowthing

One Shot | First Duel by @being-luminous

*

Tomarrymort Ongoing Fics

Chapter 12 of Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

Chapters 7 through 11 of in the silence by @satflesk22

Chapter 4 of friend of the devil (a friend of mine) by @shyinsunlight

Chapter 15 of Embryo by @cannibalinc

Chapter 4 of As It Begins by @duplicitywrites @moontearpensfic

Chapters 7 and 8 of Stygian by @crowcrowcrowthing

Chapters 15 through 17 of Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear

Chapter 1 of the night is cold in the kingdom by @girl-with-goats

Chapters 5 and 6 of you speak of the devil (like he's not your friend) by @amuria

Chapters 131 through 134 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis

Chapters 1 and 2 of Small Mistakes by Crisis_Brewing

Chapter 5 of Hit 'N Run by @dragonaireabsolvare

Chapter 11 of Days always end in sunsets by @d00medbythenarrative

Chapter 25 of Time Stumbler by @wintumnly

Chapters 8 and 9 of Venom or Valor by @lightningant

Chapter 21 of Outrunning the Villain in You by @zenyteehee

Chapters 6 through 8 of To the Hilt by @izharmilgram

Chapter 9 of Do It Over by @marrythemonstersao3

Chapter 2 of Infinite by @moontearpensfic

Chapter 2 of Prizefighter by @dragonaireabsolvare

Chapter 8 of Fetters of the Damned by @sc0rpiflow3r

Chapters 13 and 14 of Hole in the Wall by tomrddle

Chapters 23 and 24 of Learning to love by @l-archiduchesse

Chapter 13 of He Who Shall Not Be Changed by @moontimefilter

Chapter 17 of Last Son of Black by @treacleteacups

Chapter 6 of Dreams Beyond Blood by @hikarimeroperiddle

*

[callooopie]

The night, she calls me.. // Vampire!HOTD men

Come with me to the other side. Make the girl in black your bride — The Night // Aurelio Voltaire

It took all my willpower to not make this like a What We Do in the Shadows bit. No one asked for this either.. so that’s why I’m writing it. Is this gonna be a series of headcannons? No… no. No no… no no nono. I’ve started tooooo many writing projects I cannot… or can I 😏 (I actually can’t I have too many requests I need to lock in on)

Did you know what land you were walking on? Did you see the figure watching you from the top floor window? Was that a shadow you saw out the corner of your eye?

Davos Blackwood // Bloody Lord of Raventree Hall

A manor buried in the dark forests of Blackwood Vale, an urban legend surrounded the woods and the semi-ghost town beside it. Locals would talk of a figure that walked the empty streets at night, and the older residents would sometimes speak of an old estate once owned by a wealthy family that could be found in the heart of the forest. But no one has seen this place, or perhaps no one has ever returned alive to tell the tale.

The ever playful lord of Raventree Hall likes toying with his victims before they meet their bloody demise. If a fool ever gets lost on his land, Davos will follow them around in the form of a raven, acting as if he was leading them to the help they desperately called out for. Some would fall for it; the ‘guiding’ corvid that had brought them to this dusty manor. Little did they know, they wouldn’t be leaving that place.

He’s the type to make Raventree Hall look appealing and safe to the unwitting person, sometimes even playing the part of a humble boy who lives in his family’s old home. He’d learn all about a person as he feeds them food, bloody meat cooked to perfection for any human. Eat up, Davos would say, it’s a good cut of meat.. he’d hate for it to go to waste. Oh? The red wine tastes metallic? Strange.. perhaps a bottle gone bad?

He’d keep his lover human, not out of admiration of their humanity—but as more of a ‘pet’. The only reason Davos would turn a human into a vampire would be for his own entertainment purposes. It’s more fun when you can handle him and not pass out every time he does something. Plus, he wants the security of knowing you won’t be leaving him anytime soon. Forever stuck by his side, living forever in a world of night and pleasure by his doing and his doing alone.

Before you become his lovely lady, perhaps you’re one of those lost souls who stumble upon the estate. Either by poor luck or poorer fortunes, you catch the attention of Davos. He scares you from the shadows, setting candles alight with just a gust of wind, slamming doors and sending phantasms to spook you with howls and haunting steps, sending ravens and crows to caw and peck at you. It’s only when you get to the main atrium of the manor does he strike. A sinister smile on his pale face as he lunges at you from out of nowhere, teeth sinking into the skin of your neck as hands travel up and down your torso.

A master of shadows and tricks, Davos isn’t one to meet his adversaries head on. He doesn’t think they deserve his attention. He can deal with vampire hunters and celebrity ghost hunters with a wave of his hand from his bed chambers at the very top of the manor. He can make it as if ghouls are chasing around those idiots, birds seemingly attacking them on sight, if he’s feeling funny he might summon a demon or two. Why does he have the title of bloody lord? Well, he’s just a messy eater, and the corpses he leaves behind are unrecognizable from what they once were.

Jacaerys Velaryon // Draconic Prince of the Night

The picturesque village that the castle of Dragonstone sits next to has gained a plethora of tourists. However, no one has ever been allowed inside. From a mixture of local superstition, and simply because the wooden gates and doors will not open. Nothing can break, or even burn, the wood. Cursed or blessed, many have stayed away from that castle said to have been forged by dragon fire.. if local legends are to be believed.

Local legends also speak of how beautiful women are kidnapped from their homes and beds, never to be seen ever again. As a tourist, you believe you’re safe.. and you don’t really believe in those tales.. at least you don’t believe them until you awaken in a bed that’s not the hostel’s.

Jacaerys is a vampire who is easily bored. He wants someone who’ll keep up with him. A pretty princess to take care of and to simply sit like a doll, but also one who has a bit of wit and brain to them. Someone to go hunting with, or to fly around in the dead of night together. Someone to chase, someone to have intellectual conversation with.

A little more serious than a certain bloodthirsty lord, Jacaerys will turn his lover almost immediately. What’s the use in keeping you human and mortal? There is no use! Now you’re just like him, and you two can bond and be merry together in that lonesome stone castle. All the others he had spirited away were awfully dull, perhaps you will be different?

Like a dragon, he hoards his treasures. He’ll keep you close, too close almost. Jacaerys will hand feed you blood, lifting someone’s arm up to your mouth and praising you for dining on the thick liquid and flesh. He’ll hover near you, you two are royalty after all. It’s good for a prince like him to check up on his princess. He’ll dress you in gold and red fabrics, or maybe nothing at all! Jacaerys does like it when you’re only clad in gold and gems, sit yourself down on his mountains of treasure and make your nest; he’ll show he’s a good dragon who takes care of his mate.

A scholar of dragon magic, the only thing that can destroy his castle is what made it in the first place. Dragon fire. And dragons died out long long ago sweet thing (or never existed at all…). He’s perhaps the only one that remains! Believe whatever you will, Jacaerys will happily prove to you that dragons are real. And you believe it as you watch him transform into one to deal with trespassers who had somehow broken into the castle. Sure there’s ways in if your crafty enough, but what people don’t say is that there’s no way out once you’re in. The charred piles of bones that litter the treasure room are a testament to that.

Cregan Stark // Vampiric King in the North

Perhaps the only one out of the trio to be semi-normal. An urban legend surrounds the snowy mountains of a large wolf that leads lost wanderers to an empty yet warm and alive stone keep. It’s said if you stay for one night and leave the next day, you’ll find your way back to civilization. However, overstay your welcome and you won’t be heard from ever again…

Your car had broke down, and you hadn’t expected such a large snowstorm to sweep through. You’re on the brink of hypothermia, however you spot something in the distance. The howl of a wolf reaching your ears as the wild beast walks toward you. It almost seems to gesture toward you with its head, beckoning for you to follow. You’ve heard this legend, and so when you find yourself in the safety and warmth of a stone fortress you do your best to remain courteous and respectful. The plan was to leave in the morning, however when you try to open the large wooden door to leave—it slams shut on you before locking tightly.

Cregan likes your humanity, wishing only to learn from you. He would not covet you like a prize, nor would he treat you like a pet. To turn you without your consent? Unfathomable. If you wish to be turned, he would gladly do so at your request. Although he would tell you what you’ll miss, what you will be letting go of in exchange for this eternal life of coldness and blood. Perhaps it’ll all be worth it in the face of his love and companionship?

Teach him everything about you, and he’ll teach you all he knows. Cregan’s an old soul who’s lived more lifetimes than he can remember. He’s powerful, ancient; that uppity prince and cocky lord answer to him! He’s their overlord, they are his mere sons subordinates. All that aside, Cregan has vast collections of knowledge from throughout the ages. Although do remember, he scratches your back, and you will scratch his. Or he’ll show you what happens to those who’ve forgotten such an important lesson.

Unlike his underlings, Cregan can control his appetite for blood. He’s learned, and so he keeps a stockpile of it. Some of it ages like wine in a cellar, other bottles he keeps near and close. A special cabinet is reserved for special blood of course. What? You’ve never tried the blood of a priest? It’s heavenly.

Unlike the other two, Cregan lives more on red meats. Which he can get from almost anything. Although due to the coldness of the region, not many animals venture out. For a special occasion, you’ll find your plate full of fresh organs and fatty raw meat. A glass of thick red liquid right next to your plate. Cheers and eat your fill, it’s fresher than fresh. And who knows when an unsuspecting person will come up these mountains again?

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: Laormoch, Archfey of the Wild Unknown

Embodying the primal awe and terror of those places beyond the edge of the map, this ancient spirit of the land exists to test and torment those who stray too far from the safety of the familiar.

Though the old stories call him the" thane of the faroff" or an "invisible giant as big as the sky", it is hard to put Laormoch's physicality and the fear it evokes into words: How do you describe being lorded over by ancient trees, or the scornful glare of unfamiliar stars? His shape is only ever suggested by how it bends the natural world, but he is always distant, though always so immense that it feels like he may reach out and crush the viewer.

Adventure Hooks

The party stumble into a village to find its inhabitants struggling to recover after a disastrous hunt. Some wretched beast tore through some weeks ago and was only dispatched with great effort. It was a cause for celebration, at least until the thing was seen stalking in the woods, reading for another attack. To prevent it from assailing their walls and destroying their homes the village's best hunter leads the village's strongest on a sortie, downing the beast only after injuring many and losing a few. This has happened three times so far and the village's defenders are wearing thin. Perhaps the party could lend their aid once the beast is spotted again, and perhaps spend the intervening time trying to find its obviously supernatural origins.

Almost inconsolable, a great lord calls for the party's aid in rescuing his son and heir, who he claims was stolen by the sky itself: snatched out of his tower window by a great hand and carried off into the clouds. The servants and courtiers are skeptical, everyone knows the lord was so protective of his son he barely let the boy leave his rooms, let alone the castle, and it's likely the lad finally managed some means of escape. While they're considering exactly how to search for the lad the party will be approached by the Lord's bastard daughter, she was denied her inheritance by her father's traditionalism, and sees the opportunity to have herself recognized if the true born heir is never found. She'll ask that even if the party does find her younger brother, they either help him escape or leave him where he is, as it would be better for the both of him if he doesn't return to the castle.

Backstory:

Seeking to prove herself against a boastful rival, a hunter ventured far from her village into the deep wilderness, where she found and slew an elk of ethereal beauty, eating its flesh to sustain herself and taking its antlers as her trophy. Though she returned in glory, the beast had been marked by the Thane of the Faroff, who has raised its butchered body as a reverent and gifted it bloodthirsting branches to replace what was taken. The revenant won't stop until it's killed the hunter and torn her body to shreds, which will likely be sometime after she's gotten a good portion of the other villagers killed because she's too good at hunting and too stuborn to die without a fight. The revenant has more than one trick though, the branches animating its body bear seedpods which it scatters as it dies or gores others to death. These seeds eventually grow into twigblights, which are slowly massing in the forest waiting to overwhelm the village's defenders and open the gate for the revenant's final rampage.

Wishing more than anything to get away from the suffocating confines of his home, the young heir has found himself on the wrong end of a fairy bargin. Whisked off by Laormoch to his castle beyond the horizon, the boy has been forced to serve as the archfey's cupbearer as repayment for his captor's "kindness". The party will need to dig deep into the local folklore to figure out how and why the sky might snatch up a forlorn youth, potentially missing him entirely until they run into him while visiting the feywild for a completely different adventure.

Artsource

[signedkoko]

Howdy!

Could I ask for romantic headcanons for what initially makes Blitzø, Stolas and Millie fall for the person they're interested in?

Hope that makes sense lol. Much love to you <3

Blitzo | Millie | Stolas [Romantic]

In which their initial interest in you begins to flourish

It was a tough mission, one far before Blitzo had formally established IMP

It was just him and his gun, payed hefty cash under a table to take care of a target

He hadn't expected the target would notice him, and the tables would turn so quickly

With his back pressed against the floor, and a gun placed firmly into his skull, he surely thought that was it

But the first shot was drawn not by the target, but another demon wielding an old shotgun

Blood was everywhere, splattered across the ceiling, himself, and you

And good lord, did that crimson ever bring out the colour of your eyes

One of those stupid slo mo scenes in his mind, at least until he realised you'd killed the target before he had- and- wait, why were there two of you?

" Good call on the client for bringing in a backup plan, huh? You ain't bad but you could be better. "

You had helped him back home after that, and to his surprise, split the cash amount equally, citing something about how bait was just as important as the kill

Since then, you were the only thing on his mind, and his new shining obsession

Growing up in Wrath, Millie was well acquainted with those around her, and found it easy to spot someone who wasn't local

And boy, you were anything but local

The delivery person who dropped off supplies for the ranch from various rings, you looked nothing like the folk around here, far more...modern

Eventually, she happily took up the 'chore' of handling drop offs and pick ups just for an excuse to talk to you, and learn about you

Your stories of the other rings drew her in, feeding the yearning she had to adventure amongst them

Her parents preferred to keep their rowdy girl home, where it was safer, but when you offered to take her with you on a delivery to the pride ring, she begged her parents until they reluctantly agreed

Not that it mattered, she would have snuck out if she had to

You brought her up to the pride ring, showed her the sights and even let her speak to one of your other clients, IMP

Thanks to you, she eventually got a job with them, and she still insists on taking care of any of IMPs drop offs

Stolas often felt isolated in the place he was pretty much forced to live in and continue to work from day in and out

Always the same faces, the same servitude, the same job, nothing ever changed

The only people he got 'close' to were other royals, since everyone else had to bow their heads to him and followed the speak when spoken to mentality

But like every royal, there were a few ceremonies and festivals he had to attend to where he got to interact with the denizens of hell in a more refreshing manner

That was where he met you, at the winter solstice celebration, which was annually held in the pride ring

You were a descendant of the former event runner, now tasked with welcoming the prince and shifting the temperature cycle of hell through an ancient artefact

Stolas found you far more welcoming than the last, having invited him into your home the day prior so he didn't have to travel so early, and asking him many questions of how his experience of it was in the past

This year, he opened the gate to the mortal sky far wider, and for longer, as a small gift to repay your kindness

He hopes you consider a summer solstice event, so he can see you more than once a year

Author's Note - Thank you so much for requesting!! I decided to be a lil creative and make something neat up, I hope it was to your liking!

[leoprincess777]

DHANISHTA NAKSHATRA

23º 20’ Capricorn – 6º 40’ Aquarius “Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives.” The Dolphin: Alpha Delphini, Beta Delphini, Delta Delphini, Gamma Delphini Ruled by Mars Star of Symphony. Power to give abundance and fame. Symbols: empty drum, an hourglass, bells and bulbs.

Dhanishta is like a death of the inner child. Its essentially inert like sand, of coal or oil. Even the system is a dead thing unless the people actual show up to support it. The death of the spirit begins in Dhanishta and is completed in Purvabhadrapada. The machine  is just a dead thing. There is a suffering here as one is constantly striving to stay ahead of the curve.

Struggles of being controlled by other people, feelings of emptiness and superficiality. They devote themselves to a purpose or a person to deal with emptiness.

As it is within Dhanishta's power to give fame, they enjoy popularity and are often local celebrities. If well placed, they have a good reputation and are loved by people. They tend to mask their inner struggles with a bubbly persona, become an entertainer for other people, play the jester (performative) and seek out external stimuli as a way to fill the emptiness.

Major karma with marriage. Ashlesha is direct across so they often get into manipulative relationships do things they don’t want to do. They display big devotion towards their spouse and are service orianted, however they can get manipulative and use marriage as a means to an end. Often as a result, they are prone to getting controlled by their spouse. They enjoy material comforts.

Planets here are more likely to have feminine characteristics. It may also be seen that women with this placement have a somewhat easier time with the energies of this nakshatra.

Rakshasa: Belonging to the clan of the demons. Less practical, more hedonistic, often many ups and downs in life as the guru of the demons has the power to raise from the dead. Rebirth, transformation, redemption are all part of the system. Cyclical sense of time; mystical sense of reality. Marriage matching with another Rakshasa is best.

Dhanishta's stars form the diamond shaped Delphini constellation. Dolphin’s are unique creatures thought to be even more intelligent than human’s, and with that intelligence comes a childlike nature, playfulness, understanding, and selfless nature. They have a unique way using sonar & echolocation for communication, navigation and understanding the world around them. They are friendly, curious, peaceful, carefree creatures who live in harmony with humans as well as most other creatures of the sea. But they are also fearless in the face of predators and will sacrifice themselves to protect the pod rather than show any fear.

The Vasus such as Agni (fire), Vayu (wind), etc helps lord Indra in his fight with the demons and hence this nakshatra can also indicate some type of fight, competition, and competitiveness in a person’s life. Dhanishtha is also linked with land, real estate and may attain multiple properties. Suitable for real estate business.

Dhanishtas should keep musical insturments in their house as a remedial act and practice performance arts, music, communication and diplomacy.

"Most scientists and historians are born in Dhanishta. Since there is an inherent talent of keeping secrets, you are quite suitable for secret service, private secretaries to senior executives. Whatever may be your academic background, your intelligence is beyond question. In argument you are much ahead of others. Lawyers profession is excellent for you. From the 24th year onward will show progress in the earning field. Any improvement in the financial field will be only after marriage."

Shil-Ponde Female with Dhanishta Ascendant: “This is a talkative and interesting person, particularly successful in lecturing and debating. She is capable of writing mystic novels and is good at story telling. She will be happy in domestic life. She loves nice dresses, especially blue, pink, and purple, and likes curios and antiques.”

pada 2 (virgo): They can do very well in public service, administration, communications, or managing public affairs. They can be very good at the rhetorical, persuasive side or languages, marketing, and communications.

[ghostofaboy]

I Can Bring You In Hot

Summary: Maxwell is Din's latest bounty but in an attempt to ensure his freedom he's willing to offer the Mandalorian anything.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Maxwell Lord Rating: Explicit | Word count: 2616

Warnings: Oral sex, face fucking, facial, Dom/sub elements, Din's helmet stays on, light bondage

Note: This has not been beta read, so apologies for any mistakes. This was a request from @boliv-jenta as part of my 200 Follower Celebration. Divider by @saradika-graphics

"Please wait! I'll do anything you want, just let me go."

Din frowned under his helmet at the cowering man before him and sighed. Jobs had been slim on the ground for a while, and this one was barely going to cover the cost of his fuel. Usually he preferred to stick to the Outer Rim, but some rash young group of bounty hunters had snatched up all the local jobs by the time he'd gotten back to Nevarro last week. So it had been this, or a trip to Balmorra and Din really didn't want to be that close to the Core.

So here he was on Ord Mantell in the Mid Rim chasing some 'businessman' who ran out of his investors. Maxwell Lord had apparently been the toast of Coruscant just after the Empire fell, but three years on it didn't look like things were working out for him.

"Please." Maxwell repeated. "I just need another week or so, and I'll be able to pay them. Then the bounty will be called off. Please. I'll do whatever you want."

Din snorted. They all said that. This man probably could never imagine how many times Din had heard that over his career as a bounty hunter. 

"I can bring you in warm, or I can-"

"Please!" Maxwell cut him off, getting shakily to his feet from the spot he'd dropped to his knees to the moment Din appeared in his office. "I can't pay, I need the money to settle this debt, but there are other things I could do."

"Such as?"

"I can compensate you for your trip here." Maxwell gestured over to his terminal. "Refuel your ship, for example. I know the bounty on me isn't that high. To be honest, that's why I was so surprised someone took it. My investors, well, I think they put it out to scare me into getting their money."

Every instinct was telling Din to just grab this guy and take his payment. He would get his credits, be able to refuel... and then what? Damn it! Maxwell was right. The bounty was half what he'd usually consider taking. Most of his pay would go on fuel, with barely anything left over for food or to hand to the Covert. 

"I'm listening." The words were out of his mouth before the rest of Din's brain could engage.

"Good!" Maxwell smiled brightly at him. "Well, yes, I can refuel your ship and... and... if you let me go..." Maxwell trailed off, diverting his eyes from Din as he thought.

"You're going to have to do better than just fuel." Din shook his head. "Something much better."

Maxwell swallowed hard, nodding as his eyes rested on Din. For a few moments, he just stared, and the Mandalorian could feel the other man analyzing him. Those dark chocolate eyes were filled with worry, but there was an intelligence behind them that Din rarely got to see with his usual quarry. Finally, Maxwell straightened himself, brushing a few errant hairs from his forehead before looking Din directly in the visor.

"If you let me go, I promise to not only refuel your ship, but I will make any dream you have come true."

"Make my dr-" Din shook his head, almost laughing. "What?"

"You must have wishes, dreams, desires." Maxwell gestured to Din. "I've heard Mandalorian's have high libidos. Surely you have needs that require fulfilling."

This was a new one. Usually when trying to get away from him his bounties would offer Din credits but this definitely new.

"And what if my dreams are not to your taste?" Din cocked his head. He was intrigued now. If Maxwell was truly offering sex in return for freedom, Din wanted to see just how far the other man was willing to take it.

But to his surprise Maxwell laughed, not a dismissive one aimed at Din, but a soft surprised chuckle.

"I assure you my tastes are quite broad, Mandalorian. If you promise to let me go tomorrow morning, you can do whatever you want to me tonight."

He should have said no and placed the businessman in carbonite. He should have done his job, gotten his measly credits and taken the reputation merits with the Guild. But instead, Din let out a long sigh. 

"Deal."

The room Maxwell led him into was much more modestly decorated than Din would have expected. When studying him to learn where he might be, Maxwell had given Din the impression of a brash extrovert. The other man wore well tailored suits with bejeweled cuff links and large gold rings that screamed for attention.

His ads on the holonet were all smooth talking pitches aimed at making the viewer feel as though he were talking directly to them, all the while appealing to as broad an audience as possible. Some called him a con-man, but Din was sure Maxwell would have preferred holo-personality. The type of person who thrives in that environment of influencing others. But this room had Din second guessing his assessment.

While it was a large suite, with huge bed and plush furniture, it was by no means extravagant. Din had seen how some bounties spent their credits and the type of gilded facade that passed for wealth. This was understated, classy even. 

"Welcome." Maxwell spread his arms after throwing his suit jacket over the back of a chair. "I'd say relax and make yourself at home, although I doubt you'll be taking any of your armor off."

"No." Din turned back to face Maxwell, who simply nodded with apparent understanding.

"In that case," he swallowed hard, "what would you like me to do?"

In the short walk here from the office, Din had found Maxwell in his mind had been running through every fantasy he'd ever had. Some were immediately off the table. Either involving Din removing more clothes than he was comfortable with or requiring a level of intimacy that was part and parcel of the dream. 

Finally, he'd settled on something he'd always wanted to try but had never had the guts to ask for. With partners he knew Din wasn't sure how to bring up the subject, and when paying for sex he preferred to keep things simple. But with Maxwell, well, Din had the opportunity to really push things both for himself and the charismatic businessman.

"Take your clothes off."  Din's command was brief and to the point as he set his rifle down on a table close to the door. Never taking his eyes off Maxwell, Din's cock twitched to life as the other man didn't hesitate and began efficiently removing his clothing. 

With each layer more sun-kissed skin was revealed and Din started to marvel at the differences between them. By necessity Din tried to keep himself in good shape, not bulging with muscles like some of his brothers back at the Covert but toned at least, but Maxwell was beautifully soft. 

Thick, full thighs, a small round belly and a pair of tantalizingly grabbable tits were all bared for Din. Finally, as Maxwell pulled down his underwear, Din’s eyes locked onto the other man’s erection jutting out from under the slight swell of his stomach. He was much smaller than Din, but thick, with a heavy set of balls that swung as he kicked his underwear away to the side.

Din’s legs moved of their own accord and he began circling Maxwell, who to his credit stood proudly nude and erect for Din to appraise. As he reached Maxwell’s back, Din reached out and firmly pushed the other man’s shoulder down. Maxwell understood immediately and bend forward, planting his feet further apart to steady himself as he gave Din a better view of his ass.

Gently pulling Maxwell’s cheeks apart, Din could see a flushed pink ring of muscle and as ran a finger to teased at the flesh, Din smiled as Maxwell’s hole briefly gaped. He could hear a short intake of breath as Maxwell showed off for him, and Din instinctually knew the Maxwell must have a dildo he used on a regular basis. Slapping Maxwell’s ass, Din glanced back towards the bed. Perhaps he’d make Maxwell ride it for Din later, make the businessman put on a show for him with his favorite toy.

“Hands behind your back.” Din unclipped his cuffs from his belt and waited for Maxwell to obey.

After a slight hesitation, Maxwell shifted, positioning his hands behind his back, letting out a quiet whine as Din secured them with the cuffs. Then, with another firm hand on his shoulder Din helped lower Maxwell onto his knees.

Walking back over to the table where he’d left his rifle, Din quickly and efficiently removed his bandolier, explosive charges and any weapons he had on him. The last thing he needed during this was an accident and he was confident Maxwell wasn’t going to try anything stupid. After removing his vambraces and gloves Din returned to Maxwell, who had remained on his knees, his short, fat cock dripping onto the tiles between his knees.

Striding over, Din planted himself in front of the submissive Maxwell watching as the other man raised his head to look up at him. It was time. Now or never for Din to play out this fantasy or call it off and carry Maxwell back to the Crest as he was. Last chance to turn back.

Tugging open the fly of his jumpsuit, Din took in a slow steady breath as he pulled out his achingly hard cock. From his seat on the floor, Maxwell beamed up him, licking his lips as he waited for his instructions.

“You bite, you die.” Din growled, grabbing a fist full of Maxwell’s hair.

“I would never.” Maxwell sounded genuinely offended before leaning forward to gently suckle on the fat tip of Din’s cock.

He’d always wanted to try this and as Din watched Maxwell expertly work his length into his mouth he had to admit it felt better than he’d ever imagined. There was a certain amount of trust needed for oral sex and it pained Din that he’d never been in the position before to either give or receive. But here he was watching his bounty swirl his tongue around the head of his dick, each lap and flick of the other man’s tongue sending spikes of desire through him.

Din let out a long moan as Maxwell began tracing the vein along the underside of his shaft before returning to the head, teasing at his slit for entrance. Looking up at Din through long dark eyelashes, Maxwell parted his lips and began to work Din’s full length into his mouth, saliva running out of the corners as he opened wide enough for Din’s girth. As each inch disappeared into Maxwell’s hot wet mouth, Din’s skin prickled with arousal as he fought the urge to close his eyes. As much as he wanted to give into the bliss, he wanted to watch, to see Maxwell’s beautifully flushed face take his cock, to savor this moment.

Without the use of his hands, Din could tell Maxwell was struggling slightly. Obvious used to using mouth and hands in tandem, Din had stopped him from employing his usual techniques, but he was slowly adapting. After working along the shaft a few times, Din could feel as Maxwell flattened his tongue and finally took Din to the back of his mouth. As Maxwell’s nose nestled in Din’s unruly bush, the Mandalorian marvelled as he felt the tip of his cock hit the back of Maxwell’s throat. 

The burning wetness closing around him, enveloping his cock was almost overwhelming and Din’s head swam with heavy fog. Holding himself there for a few seconds, Maxwell spluttered slightly and withdrew, leaving Din slick with drool as he returned to gently suck and teasing on the fat cockhead. 

“Can you take more?” Din growled, tightening his grip on Maxwell’s hair and watching as the other man’s eyes flickered up to him.

“You want to fuck my face?”

“Yes.”

“I can take it.”

That was all Din needed as he pushed his length back into Maxwell’s throat, firmly and steadily, until the other man’s lips were stretched taut around the base. Slowly at first, Din began to move his hips, testing Maxwell’s limits as he used the other man’s mouth. Looking up at him, Maxwell was adjusting his breathing, sending puffs of hot air against Din’s exposed skin as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. 

“You’ve done this before.” Din teased, bringing his other hand up to grip Maxwell’s head fully. Maxwell responded with a wink and hummed around Din’s cock, making Din curse and buck his hips.

Shifting his feet further apart to steady himself, Din took a deep breath as he began to quicken his pace. The fire inside him was a roaring inferno now, and Din was not accustomed to ignoring it. Usually quickly seeing to himself in his bunk, Din was used to rapid bursts of pleasure, sprints not marathons, and this entire encounter with Maxwell was quickly undoing him. 

Each thrust into Maxwell’s waiting throat sent powerful thrums of pleasure coursing through him. Each time he hit the back of Maxwell’s throat, Din blinked away the dizzying urge to cum. His cock throbbed inside Maxwell, who gazed up at Din with lust blown eyes, urging him on, begging for more.

Din’s balls swung against Maxwell’s chin as the pace increased. Frantic, save for the briefest of pauses to allow the businessman to catch his breath, before pondering his mouth once more. Maxwell’s eyes watered, yet still he stared up at Din’s visor, as each blink sent tears cascading down his cheeks. 

The sound of the outside world melted away. There was nothing else now except the wet gagging sounds of Maxwell choking on Din’s cock as the Mandalorian hungrily fucked his face. Then with a vibrating whine, Din watch Maxwell pinch his eyes shut and felt the other man shudder. Peering down past his own length, Din could see Maxwell’s own untouched cock twitch as it shot bursts of cum onto the floor.

Din felt the tension inside him snap. Pulling roughly out of Maxwell’s mouth, leaving a long trail of connecting saliva, Din was just in time to stop himself from cumming down Maxwell’s throat. Instead, Din grunted and moaned as he began to paint the other man’s face with his seed. Rope after rope covered Maxwell’s beautifully disheveled features as Din spilled himself in hot spurts that landed and ran together.

Stepped back on trembling legs, Din panted as he took in the scene before him, the heady rush of his climax ebbing away and allowing him to fully appreciate his actions. A small puddle of cum sat between Maxwell’s legs, as his small dick soften and retreated, while Maxwell himself sat back to rest on his kneels panting heavily. His face was covered in cum and drool, dripping from onto his chest as the businessman gasped for air. Slowly, Maxwell reopened his eyes, searching the space in front of him until he found Din’s visor. 

“Face fucking and a facial.” Maxwell’s chest heaved as he blinked at Din. “Hard, fast and filthy. Was it everything you wanted?”

“I’m not through with you yet.” Din ran a finger through the sticky release covering Maxwell’s face before offering it to him to suck. As Maxwell suckled on the digit, swaying slightly with a playful smile on his face. “You look so perfect on your knees, ready for me to use.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Maxwell grinned. “What’s next?”

[talonabraxas]

Paramatma in all Hearts ~ Lord Vishnu Talon Abraxas I am seated in everyone's heart, and from Me come remembrance, knowledge and forgetfulness. By all the Vedas am I to be known; indeed I am the compiler of Vedanta, and I am the knower of the Vedas. The Supreme Lord is situated as Paramatma in everyone's heart, and it is from Him that all activities are initiated. The living entity forgets everything of his past life, but he has to act according to the direction of the Supreme Lord, who is witness to all his work. Therefore he begins his work according to his past deeds. Required knowledge is supplied to him, and remembrance is given to him, and he forgets, also, about his past life. Thus, the Lord is not only all-pervading; He is also localized in every individual heart. He awards the different fruitive results. He is not only worshipable as the impersonal Brahman, the Supreme Personality of Godhead, and the localized Paramatma, but as the form of the incarnation of the Vedas as well. The Vedas give the right direction to the people so that they can properly mold their lives and come back to Godhead, back to home. The Vedas offer knowledge of the Supreme Personality of Godhead, Krsna, and Krsna in His incarnation as Vyasadeva is the compiler of the Vedanta-sutra. The commentation on the Vedanta-sutra by Vyasadeva in the Srimad-Bhagavatam gives the real understanding of Vedanta-sutra. The Supreme Lord is so full that for the deliverance of the conditioned soul He is the supplier and digester of foodstuff, the witness of his activity, the giver of knowledge in the form of Vedas and as the Supreme Personality of Godhead, Sri Krsna, the teacher of the Bhagavad-gita. He is worshipable by the conditioned soul. Thus God is all-good; God is all-merciful.

Antahpravistah sasta jananam. The living entity forgets as soon as he quits his present body, but he begins his work again, initiated by the Supreme Lord. Although he forgets, the Lord gives him the intelligence to renew his work where he ended his last life. So not only does a living entity enjoy or suffer in this world according to the dictation from the Supreme Lord situated locally in the heart, but he receives the opportunity to understand Vedas from Him. If one is serious to understand the Vedic knowledge, then Krsna gives the required intelligence. Why does He present the Vedic knowledge for understanding? Because a living entity individually needs to understand Krsna. Vedic literature confirms this: yo 'sau sarvair vedair giyate. In all Vedic literature, beginning from the four Vedas, Vedanta-sutra and the Upanisads and Puranas, the glories of the Supreme Lord are celebrated. By performing Vedic rituals, discussing the Vedic philosophy and worshiping the Lord in devotional service, He is attained. Therefore the purpose of the Vedas is to understand Krsna. The Vedas give us direction to understand Krsna and the process of understanding. The ultimate goal is the Supreme Personality of Godhead. Vedanta-sutra confirms this in the following words: tat tu samanvayat. One can attain perfection by understanding Vedic literature, and one can understand his relationship with the Supreme Personality of Godhead by performing the different processes. Thus one can approach Him and at the end attain the supreme goal, who is no other than the Supreme Personality of Godhead. In this verse, however, the purpose of the Vedas, the understanding of the Vedas and the goal of Vedas are clearly defined. -Bhagavad Gita

[montrealmadison]

in your palace warm, mighty king

okay i’ve recently found myself on angel tree tiktok. if you’re unfamiliar with the concept, basically, some stores will put out a tree around the holidays with gift tags for anonymous local kids, and people coming in to do their own shopping can take a tag off the tree and buy kids gifts off their wishlists for the store to pass off to them. (the linked video shows it in action!)

anyway this got me thinking about jack zimmermann at the beginning of his career. he has been fabulously wealthy and privileged for his whole life, but he’s only recently started earning a massive salary of his own and has no real idea of what to spend it on. he’s comfortable. he has a car and a nice apartment and an engagement ring hidden somewhere in said apartment. he knows he should probably donate to a worthwhile cause, but he hasn’t figured out what.

one day, though, bitty’s visiting for the weekend and comes to the store with him, and right there in the entryway, he just… stops. jack doesn’t notice and consequently almost runs him over with the cart.

“you alright? careful, eh?”

bitty does not respond, because he’s looking at the tree.

“bud?”

jack follows his gaze. it really doesn’t look like much. it’s fake, unlit, and has seen better days if the way it’s a little flattened on one side is anything to go by. there is an equally squashed-looking stuffed snowman sat on the floor next to it. it’s the kind of thing your eyes slide over easily, hurrying from one place to another. blink and you’ll miss it.

bitty isn’t blinking.

“lord, i haven’t seen one of these in years,” he says. his voice is soft. he still isn’t looking at jack. “do you know what it is?”

jack doesn’t, so bitty explains. and when they inch closer, jack sees that all the ornaments he thought were plain paper before are actually printed with ages, shoe sizes, requests for warm coats and toys and cute jeans and deodorant. here and there is a specific wish—a bluetooth speaker. a particular board game. one kid, age eight, is fervently hoping for a bike.

and—okay. here’s the thing. they’ve been together for more than a year, and bitty is pretty willing to go along with jack’s desire to spoil him. but although he’s so open and accepting when jack wants to kiss him, or cook dinner for a change, or lay him out on their bed and make him feel good—he will always, always get uncomfortable where significant amounts of money are involved. it was the subject of the one and only fight that sent them to bed still heated. the fundamental difference between their upbringings is the hardest for them to grasp: jack has never known a life without plenty. and bitty—

“i think my parents put me on one,” bitty says. “the year we moved back to madison, after—”

the closet looms between them, black and yawning.

“well. you know. coach had to leave a good job in lawrenceville. took us a while to get back on our feet, i think. and that year, they couldn’t—i mean, i heard them talking at night about how we might not be able to make christmas work, when they thought i couldn’t hear them. but i still wrote my letter to santa, and there were a couple presents when i woke up christmas morning, so.” he scuffs one shoe on the industrial carpet. “maybe an angel sent ‘em.”

the words make something sizzle down jack’s spine and settle low in his gut. he steps forward, reaches out, turns over the nearest tag.

boy, age 11. shoe size: 8. wishlist: sneakers, earbuds, basketball, patriots merch, chapter books. loves fantasy and mythology.

once upon a time, jack spent three months in a rehab center designed specifically for the privacy needs of celebrity clients. his parents footed the bill, had the windows on all their cars tinted for him to hide behind when he got out. at the same time, thousands of miles away, bitty sat at the top of the stairs in his parents’ house and listened to them wonder if they could afford to keep the magic of christmas alive another year.

people are stepping around them to get out of the cold, now, their eyes skipping right over the tree and the boys in front of it. once upon a time, strangers on the street picked apart jack’s overdose like a piece of tabloid gossip. strangers on the street made sure a thirteen-year-old kid had something to unwrap with his family on christmas morning.

“bits?”

bitty sniffles, swipes at one eye with the sleeve of his sweater. “yeah?”

jack lifts the tag gently off its branch, catches bitty’s gaze. bitty’s intake of breath is so sharp it’s audible over the music playing overhead. do you see what i see?

“what do you think? wanna go get us another cart?”

[corvidaes-crow]

ChoiCale Northern Duke AU

Northern duke Cale Henituse with his long hair frosted over and tangling in the winter wind, fur cape thick and warm and pitch black, weighing down his shoulders. Northern duke Cale Henituse who stays shut in his castle unless drowning his lonely sorrows (apparently) and does not care for the people he protects (apparently), but stumbles back through the gates at unholy hours of the night or morning reeking of alcohol, clothes stained through with red in the dim candle light.

Choi Han stumbles onto the lands of the remote duchy after fighting through a thicket of winter demons and a pack of timber wolves that took him as easy prey, and the village welcomes him warmly. They celebrate his presence, because they think he is the one who has guarded their village. It's not strictly wrong, but Choi Han has not been in the Henituse duchy for long enough for his fights to warp into local legend.

He has not flung himself off cliffs to lure demons to their deaths. He would not call the way he wields his sword fae-like. Only thrice has he saved fellow travelers from the snow-borne perils. But... they call him a hero and give him food and rest at their eternal bonfire, and that is good enough for Choi Han not to question it too much.

The rumours spread far enough that the duke himself descends from his mansion at the peak of the wintering mountains. When the village leader hollers the name 'Cale Henituse' through the snowy roads, the merriment goes silent. Choi Han is slower to fear and trepidation than the youngsters he is talking to, so he turns and meets the duke's rusted gaze head on.

"So you're the hero," comes Duke Henituse's first greeting, and his voice makes him seem younger than the ageless ice of his expression. Not that it is ageless ice anymore - Duke Henituse's bloody lips twist and splinter his face with a scathing smirk. "I suppose you're looking for a reward, then? Well, what have you?"

The children shrink away from the duke's imposing stare, and Choi Han feels his own agitation rear its head in response. "The fire, your Grace. I come on behalf of another village who has suffered decades of chill now. Can you share some of it with us?"

Duke Henituse's gaze narrows as his sneer widens. "Which village?"

"Does it matter? The cold is impartial, your Grace, it will freeze any that has no hearth like this one." Choi Han tips his head at the merrily blazing flame that burns bright enough to heat the entire village and light the roads in the eternal night. "The fire can be transported without weakening the hearth. I can do it myself!"

"You can try," Duke Henituse snorts. "The Eternal Winter does not take kindly to flame in its midst."

"Harris is-"

The logs in the bonfire crackle and spit, collapsing in a blast of flame. Around them, the villagers flinch away with hands raised against the light. Cale Henituse draws his spine straight and bares his teeth on a fogged breath, embers refracting in his fathomless gaze as his hair and cloak billow in the surge of heated air - a dark burgundy stain mars the right breast of his thick blouse. "Harris Village? Let them be consumed by the full force of the Winter! Let them shatter! Let them die!"

Choi Han raises his drawn sword at a defenseless man, and knows that no villager will stop him. "I will take some fire back to them."

"Ha!" the duke laughs, head thrown back derisively, "Then take some wood with you too! Harris will have precious little dry kindling. Give them our fire."

What a challenge that is. "I will," Choi Han snarls. The fire burns, and even at this distance he is starting to sweat. He takes a lamp from one of the children who offer, and a handful of large candles from another. When he glances over his shoulder, the Winter Lord is gone. Back to his lofty manor in the snow with him, then.

Choi Han thanks the children and bids the rest of the villagers adieu. The older of them shake their heads and chuckle like it is some inside joke. "No need to say goodbye, lad. Best of luck to you."

The fire snuffs out the moment he steps past the tree line.

He walks the twenty minutes back to the village in near-darkness. It is not hard; the warm glow is the brightest beacon they could have. The elders smile when he sheepishly greets them again, amused yet disappointed for his flame. Choi Han leaves and returns four more times before he slumps on the village's pub bench with his head in his hands. The bartender claps him on the shoulder in commiseration and shouts him a jug of mead. "The flame cannot leave the village's bounds. Not without his Grace's permission."

Choi Han sips on the spiced liquor and frowns. "Then that's what I'll do."

The trek up to the manor is treacherous; there are crevasses and cliffs obscured by blinding white, and Choi Han cannot imagine the frosty duke shimmying up the narrow ledge of this particular cliff to get home. But Choi Han has faced far worse getting to the village of the eternal hearth in the first place. He makes it up mostly unharmed, though his fingertips are raw and bleeding.

The manor gates are wrought iron. The windows are dark. When Choi Han raises his hand to the metal, it parts for him as if the hinges were oiled only minutes ago. Soundless and weightless. A single room lights up. Choi Han looks over on instinct. The sharp, willowy silhouette of Cale Henituse stares back.

[lordgrimwing]

The Big 5-0-0

(Or, Glorfindel has a gift for his husband)

[for Glorfindel Week, hosted by @glorfindelweek, Day 7]

“Five hundred years!” Exclaimed the shocked tavern keeper.

Glorfindel shrugged as he helped the Man lift the roasted lamb from the cooking fire that also heated the dining room. “Five hundred years is not so long for elves.”

The Man scoffed, taking up a towel in one hand and pushing the steaming carcass from the spit. She wagged a finger at him. “For an Elf with a thousand years ahead of him, maybe, but any marriage that endures longer than kingdoms ought to be celebrated to the fullest.”

A thousand more years felt like pitifully little time to Glorfindel. He certainly would take every opportunity to celebrate every memory if he knew his time in Arda was so limited. How Men, who were lucky if they lived within a stone’s throw of one hundred, went their whole lives without bursting into song and dance in celebration of existence, he’d never understand. 

“I saw that horse you rode here on, so don’t bother saying you don’t have the means to throw a proper party.”

Asfaloth, being an Elvish steed, demanded a certain level of finary when he went out. The bells, however, were entirely Glorfindel’s idea.

“Erestor detests parties, and he says adorning a horse in gems and bells will get me killed—again!” 

She snorted at the jest, passing Glorfindel a platter for the meat he was stripping from the bones, unbothered by the heat that would burn her hands. “And in five hundred years, have you learned only what he dislikes and nothing of what he likes?”

He smiled softly. He knew much of what his beloved liked.

“Should I call all those men back in and ask them to recount tales of wives whose husbands didn’t bring them an anniversary gift?” The tavern keeper threatened. 

She’d cleared the dining room of local patrons until the meal was ready. The gleaming Elf-lord had garnered more raucous attention than she liked when it was her building, table, and chairs at risk, and it hadn’t felt right to ask him to wait in his room until everyone was distracted by good food. The other Men went willingly enough, though Glorfindel could still clearly hear them milling about outside.

“That won’t be necessary, good lady,” he said. “Duty brought me this way, but I made time to find something he will treasure.” He patted the purse tied to his belt.

She shot the purse a dubious look, doubtlessly skeptical that anything that fit in a small bag could adequately encompass the magnitude of a couple’s 500th wedding anniversary. 

“Well,” she settled on. “Don’t say no one warned you if he kicks you out on your ear.”

--

When Glorfindel finally arrived in Imladris, Erestor met him in the narrow pass leading down into the valley, too impatient to wait longer.

“My brightest night star!” Glorfindel said, alighting from Asfaloth’s saddle to sweep the loremaster into his arms. He planted a kiss on his forehead, thrilled by the absence of an audience to their reunion: Erestor disliked people kissing in public almost as much as he disliked parties. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

Erestor huffed but did not pull away. Reaching up, he pulled Glorfindel’s head down to return the kiss, leaving his husband blushing with excitement. 

“You took your time, Dandelion,” the black-haired Elf accused when they separated. “Elrond expected you back a fortnight ago.”

“I admit to tarrying longer than needed for the task he gave me,” Glorfindel said, leading the dusty stallion as the lovers continued down the path hand-in-hand. “But I promise it was not without reason.”

“It had better be a good reason, and not just that you had to climb some mountain to return one of Manwë’s foolish birds to its nest.”

Erestor was with him on that particular occasion, about fifty years before they married, though he had no interest in scaling the last cliffs to return the unfledged eagle to her home. Glorfindel insisted on it, knowing the young bird couldn’t survive the fast-approaching thunderstorm alone in the open and was too wild to keep in with them until the weather cleared. Trusting his skill and light step, Glorfindel climbed alone, the bird wrapped in a cloth to keep her wings and talons contained and secured in a sack over his shoulder, only her head poking out. The task wouldn’t have been challenging if not for the storm. He made it back to the sheltered test just fine, reassuring the flustered eagle parents with a song as he freed their lost eaglet. On the way down, however, his hands split on the rain-soaked stones and fell—only a few feet down to the next ledge, true, but it was enough to leave his heart pounding and senses ringing with the echos of dragon-thunder and flash of balrog-whips overlaying the storm. 

Erestor threatened to knock him out and tie him up the next time such madness came over him when he eventually made it back to safety, dripping wet and jumping at every clash of thunder that came too close. Glorfindel agreed to let him.

“Oh, no, you will find this delay was entirely to your liking,” he promised.

“A lofty claim, indeed,” Erestor said. “I will require proof.”

“When we are both safely home and done with our duties, I will show you.”

--

Glorfindel was sitting, comfortable and cozy, in bed with his embroidery when something hard bounced off his head and landed on the covers next to him.

“I cannot believe you!” 

Erestor’s sitting in an armchair by the window, using the last rays of the setting sun to inspect his gift—Or he had been. Currently, he was standing, slate tablet in one hand, the other still extended from slinging the little dog figurine from the side table at the golden-haired fool sitting in bed. His face was scrunched up, mouth pinched like he’d bitten into a lemon (except he usually had too much self-control to ever react to the unassuming citrus, but the comparison was good enough). 

“Where did you find this? How did you find this?” He brandished the old slate aggressively, for a moment looking as though he might throw it too.

Glorfindel set aside his project. “Is it not to your liking?” 

Perhaps he’d misjudged entirely and he would end up out on his ear just like the tavern keeper warned.

“Not to my liking? Not to my liking?” Erestor lifted the tablet high, gesturing to the small drawings on it with his other hand. “Sunflower, The elf who made these stories died four thousand years ago. How did you come by this?”

He sounded more shocked than angry, and Glorfindel relaxed. “Through much patience and the exchanging of many letters with various collectors of first age relics. I made a detour to collect that on the way back. That’s what delayed my return.”

“Did it not cost a small fortune? I spied no gems missing from your horse’s daft accoutrements.” 

A grin broke across Glorfindel’s face. “I dare say it is worth as much to you.”

Softness spread across his husband’s face and he touched the old slate now with tender, almost reverent fingers as he caressed the time-warn drawings. His eyes clouded with old memories of the past rarely recalled from the careful places he stored them in. “I laughed over this depiction of Lords Celegorm and Curufin when it was only days old! I helped Vekkawë hide his collection in our mattresses when Captain Crímainya came to destroy the ‘defaming misinformation’. I thought I’d never see one again after the Valar sank Beleriand.”

Eyes clearing, he brought the tablet, with its child-like depiction of long-gone beloved lords, to his chest and said, “This is a great treasure. No fortune can take it from me.”

Glorfindel laughed. “I’m glad the Dwarf I bought it from did not know the true value, then, for I am not sure I could have gotten it honestly for that price and would not have departed without it.”

Erestor snorted, muttering “Six pounds of that hideous tack you insist on dressing your horse in would have covered it, no doubt” as he turned away for a moment of privacy to wipe his eyes clear before he accidentally shed tears over the small remnant of his past.

“Asfaloth cannot be parted from his gems when he is afield.” 

Glorfindel opened his arms, and Erestor—after setting the tablet carefully on the side table like it was as fragile as a hollow dove egg and not slab or stone almost as old as the world itself that had survived devastations and travesties unnumbered—fell into his embrace. 

They spent the rest of the night in bed, though neither got much sleep.

[3rdeyeblaque]

On August 30th we venerate Young King Brother Fred Hampton on his 75th birthday 🎉

Deputy Chairman Fred Hampton was the one of THE greatest orators, leaders, and visionaries to join the Black Panther Party Of Self-Defense 🖤✊🏾

Fred Hampton was born & raised in the Chicago suburbs of Illinois. Civil liberties, rights, and laws were always of great interest to him. After graduating high school, he enrolled in a pre-law program at Triton Junior College in River Grove, Illinois. He joined his local NAACP branch to get involved in the civil rights movement. He rose to the position of Youth Council President for his strong leadership and organization skills. In this position, Brother Hampton mobilized a racially diverse group of 500 young men/women who successfully lobbied city officials to create better academic services and recreational facilities for Black American youth.

In 1968, he joined the Black Panther Party of Self-Defense, headquartered in Oakland, CA. Shortly thereafter, he was selected to head the Chicago Chapter. Here, he created strong personal and political ties with his mentor & chaplain, Father George Clements at the [then] Holy Angels Catholic Church; which served as a safe haven for the Panthers targeted for police surveillance or harassment.

Brother Hampton accomplished a great many things as a young, prolific leader of the BPP Chicago Chapter. He successfully negotiated a gang truce on live television.One of his greatest successes was an unprecedentedly integrated approach to sociopolitical unity; he formed a “Rainbow Coalition”, which included: the Students for a Democratic Society, the Blackstone Rangers, a street gang and the National Young Lords, a local Puerto Rican organization. He was the first leading Panther to achieve this. This alliance is what truly struck the cord of fear in the Chicago P.D. & the FBI. In an effort to neutralize the Chicago Chapter of the BPP, the Black Panthers were placed under heavy surveillance & were subjected to several harassment campaigns.

By 1969, several Black Panthers and Chicago cops either suffered injury or were killed in shootouts across the city, which resulted in the arrest of over 100 members. On Dec 4th of that same year, under the FBI's initiative, the County PD & Chicago PD conducted heinous, unlawful, and unnecessary raid on the Black Panther Party's HQ in the early morning hours while Brother Hampton, leader Mark Clark, and other Panthers slept. They fired over 100 rounds into the apartment without warning. Twelve officers executed Brother Hampton as he slept, drugged by a sedative slipped into his drink by "Panther"/FBI informant O'Neal. Naturally, in Jan 1970, the County Coroner's office ruled the Black Panther leaders' deaths as "justifiable homicide".

Over 5,000 souls attended Brother Hampton’s funeral. Many civil rights activates eulogized him, including his good friend and mentor Father George, who also held a Requem Mass for him at his church.

After many years of coverups, internal investigations, lawsuits, raids, and conspiracies confirmed, the FBI, County PD, & Chicago PD finally admitted to the wrongful deaths of Brother Hampton and Mark Clark. In 1990, and again in 2004, the Chicago City Council passed resolutions commemorating December 4th as Fred Hampton Day. Today, Brother Hampton rests at the Bethel Cemetery in Haynesville, LA where his parents are from - which continues to endure violent desecration from White Supremacist vigilantes/supporters.

" You can kill a revolutionary but you can never kill the revolution. People have to be armed to have power" - Young King Fred Hampton

We pour libations & give him💐 today as we celebrate him for his love of our people, his relentless dedication to the BPP cause, and his young yet wise spirit that lives on. May be the find restful peace in spirit that he was/is denied in the physical.

Offering suggestions: flower offerings at his grave, libations of water, prayers and frankincense toward his elevation

‼️Note: offering suggestions are just that & strictly for veneration purposes only. Never attempt to conjure up any spirit or entity without proper divination/Mediumship counsel.‼️

[gabessquishytum]

Hob snuck into this fancy party up the hill, cause why not. These rich as fuck Endless bastards lord their money and power over the town, but make sure to stay "safe" behind their high walls. What did Hob have to lose, just taking a peek, he was getting out of this shit town tomorrow, his truck was gassed and his scholarship was secured. He was just going to grab a drink and see what all the fuss was about.

As he was wandering around the dumb house, filled with horrible people, Hob happened on a beautiful library that was filled with books and a crying, pretty, paint-covered, boy who was maybe Hob's age. Hob didn’t want to get involved, but he couldn't just leave someone sad and crying.

When some asked him if he was okay, Dream wasn't prepared to look up to see a doe-eyed (horribly dressed) handsome young man. He thought it would just be his horrible parents, siblings or some combination of their horrible party guests. All there to just make fun of him. Dream wished he could just leave this place!

The boy, young man, was even more beautiful when he looked up at Hob with deep blue eyes. Hob was hooked.

When he left town in the morning, Hob had more than his suitcase in his beat up pickup truck - he had a pretty artist and a new roommate. It was too soon to do more than hope they could be more......

I love the idea of Hob being a thief who ends up stealing Dream right from under the nose of his family.

Poor Dream is... somewhat clueless about the outside world. He's led a sheltered life, and he doesn't quite understand some things. But that's okay, because Hob takes care of him. And Dream is a damn good artist, with a proper education, so it's not long before he manages to get a commission here and there. He can finally contribute to the rent on his and Hob’s shitty bedsit! They get pizza to celebrate and sit on the floor with candles and soft music. Both of them are desperate to lean in for a kiss, but they're both too scared of the potential rejection...

Dream's art gets noticed by lots of people, and soon he's actually doing very well in the local area. He does wall-art for shops and cafes, murals for the community centre, and of course he paints the sad little flat where he and Hob are still living in a myriad of colours. It's beautiful. Hob is so in love.

They run into some old friends of Dream’s family at some point, and they start getting mean and making threats. Hob acts on instinct and throws a punch that sends the ringleader of the assholes sprawling. He runs off with Dream in tow, and they end up hiding in an alley, breathing hard and gazing into each other's eyes. Their lips meet...

And someone comes at them from behind, knocking Hob in the back of the head and bundling Dream away from him, into a car. Its so quick he barely has time to scream.

He knows he's being dragged back to his family, and his heart is racing - what if Hob isn't okay?

But of course Hob is okay. And he's coming after his pretty artist. No one gets to take his Dream away. He'll burn the whole damned house down if he has to, and then he'll give Dream the proper kiss that he deserves.

[mysticwolfshadows]

Taken - Zutara - Part 94

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Zuko did end up sending a letter to his Uncle, who arrived a few days later. They also managed to get word to Aang, who met them on the way to the island to get On Ji's class.

"This is so exciting," Aang laughed. "I didn't think we'd be going back!"

The Headmaster and the travel group was waiting in the courtyard. Zuko and Katara came off the boat, walking through town and getting more than a few stares. Zuko was dressed in his usual regalia, the flame crown still in his hair, while Katara was in a thin layer of water tribe blues with a red sash. Anyone that recognized them was clearly shocked.

When they got to the academy, and were standing before everyone, is when they got the real reaction. A few people screamed, the headmaster looked like he was about to faint, and Zuko swore he heard 'Kuzon's friend Shoji whisper 'I knew it'. Zuko knew that Katara was finding this all hilarious.

"F-Fire Lord Zuko," the Headmaster said, one arm twitching. "It's... An honor... For you to have chosen our academy. For this... this honor."

"Of course," Zuko said, gesturing to Katara. "This is Princess Katara of the Southern Water Tribe and Ambassador to the Fire Nation. She'll be running this... field trip, with the help of Kuzon." He paused. "Sorry, I meant Avatar Aang."

The Headmaster twitched again, looking very pained.

Katara grinned.

They were on the boat in a little over an hour. Katara gave a speech before they boarded, giving a short itinerary for the parents. They'd be studying some of the local fauna, visiting the local bending school, and observing a Southern Water Tribe celebration. She didn't elaborate that 'studying fauna' included penguin sledding or that the 'observing a celebration' meant joining a Water Tribe party.

When they got to the colder waters, Katara and Aang passed out fur lined coats. Zuko pretended not to notice that Aang spent a little extra time helping On Ji get her coat on.

When they got to Wolf Cove, Zuko was surprised. The village wasn't a village anymore. The little igloos were replaced with more regular buildings, and there were more of them. With the warriors home, there were more people around. The large training building Katara had told him about stood proudly next to the longhouse. There was even a proper dock now.

"There's Fire Nation people here," one student gasped, as they were unloading from the cruiser.

Katara beamed, and Zuko pretended his heart didn't flutter.

"The Southern Water Tribe has welcomed all who come to join the tribe," she explained, walking backwards as she led the group down the main road - the tribe had a main road. "There are lots of blended families here. From my understanding, the first child is due in July."

Aang bounced excitedly on his toes. "The colony, Yu Doa, is also a blended community! Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom. The mayor's daughter is even an earthbender."

Zuko had heard about that. All three of colonies they'd be keeping - Yu Doa, Linsho, and Hu Xin - had noticeable blended populations, but Yu Doa had the largest. It was good to see. That blended families could work. It was one factor in his and Katara's favor, if the council tried to argue against them.

When Hakoda came out to greet them, Zuko split off from the group, and went to the longhouse. Katara and Aang were going to take the students penguin sledding.

"Zuko!" Sokka called, grinning as they came in. He was sitting on a stool, Kya carefully styling his hair. "You made it!"

"Thank Katara," Zuko snorted. "She's got most of my council either scared of her or desperate for her approval."

"Bullying a whole government," Sokka said, with far too much approval. "Sounds like my little sister."

He stays with the chiefs family most of the afternoon. They spend most of it talking about how things were going.

The Fire Nation had been doing shockingly well since Zuko became Fire Lord. Other than his slow (nonexistent) progress with Azula, Zuko hasn't had any problems. There had been no assassination attempts, at least none that Suki and his guard had thought to bring to his attention, and the people had been shockingly approving. In fact, things had been going so well with the citizens, that they were being flooded with volunteer workers for each project, who Zuko still paid despite Minister Chang's protests.

The South had also been doing well. Since the end of the war, they had been expanding daily. With the Fire Nation people that had decided to stay, and the Northern refugees, the Southern Tribe's numbers were promising. They might even have enough people to start bringing back the outer villages that had vanished after the raids.

"They're starting to slow down," Hakoda said, though he didn't look very sure. "In the beginning, it was entire boats of people. Almost every day. Now, it's just one family, or even just one person, in a week."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Zuko asked. "Your population will be stabilizing."

Hakoda shook his head. "The first people that came, they were like my mother. Escaping arranged marriages, running from forced gendered roles. These last few..." He shakes his head. "They don't want to talk about why they left."

"You think something's happened? In the North?"

Hakoda shook his head. "I can't say for sure. Just... Be careful, Zuko." Standing, he cleared his throat. "But enough politics. My son becomes a leader today."

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[calabria-mediterranea]

Altomonte, Calabria, Italy

Altomonte is a charming medieval village sitting on a promontory 450 meters above sea level, at the foot of the National Park of Pollino.

The place corresponds to the old village of Balbia, name of Phoenician origin (that means Lord) mentioned by Roman author Pliny, the Elder, when celebrates the goodness of the Balbino wine.

Situated on the hill, the houses seem to be welded to the ground and the rocks, the hills with olive trees, fields and spots are a real timeless spectacle.

During the medieval period, Altomonte became a fortified center and played a significant role in the defense of the region. Over the centuries, the town developed into a typical Calabrian village, preserving its historical character and traditions.

The heart of Altomonte is its historical centre, characterized by narrow cobbled streets, stone houses, and ancient buildings.

The many streets and stairways cluster around the center of the village, where the Church of Santa Maria della Consolazione is located. A true Gothic-Angevin art treasure, with a rose window and a very elegant facade, while the bell tower is decorated with a mullioned window.

Adjoining the church is the Dominican Monastery that now houses the Civic Museum, where important works of art are preserved.

The village offers visitors a chance to savor traditional Calabrian cuisine, with a focus on local products such as olive oil, cured meats, and regional wines.

Follow us on Instagram, @calabria_mediterranea

[rickktish]

A list of mutable batfam headcanons that live inside my brain:

Steph deserves to be 6’ minimum, preferably 6’1” or 2”

Bruce is constantly trying to balance his need to be at the same eye level or above the people he’s intimidating vs his need to do his funky little gargoyle crouch. His favorite thing about the GCPD roof is that it has lots of surfaces he can crouch on and still meet or look down at Gordon’s eye level

Tim and Damian suffer from “too similar to get along” disease and must either become best friends or despise each other until the end of time

Babs prefers light, natural toned makeup. Steph prefers pops of color and decent amounts of jewelry when she can get away with it. Cass prefers jewelry and no makeup at all

Jason’s comfort meals are all variations on soup served with bread for dipping

Jason is of the opinion that Fitzwilliam Darcy is an ass at the beginning of the book and it’s a good thing he decided to change himself so he could take his place as Best Fictional Man Ever. Dick, who read the book in order to be able to connect with Jason better, is of the opinion that Fitzwilliam Darcy has done nothing wrong ever and only needed to work on his social skills, meaning that it’s his improved ability to communicate that makes him worthy of Elizabeth Bennet at the end. Neither of them wants to listen to Tim’s analysis of what this says about their relationships with Bruce

Duke has never engaged in non-Alfred approved chaos. This is not because Duke seeks Alfred’s approval, but rather because their senses of humor are in perfect alignment and Alfred is always pleased to discover that he approves of Duke’s particular instances of chaos even after the fact

Damian never had stuffed animals growing up, but after being corrupted by Dick’s influence he can no longer sleep without a minimum of one in his bed

Damian collects posters and articulable action figures. His favorite ones are the ones that can stand on their own, which he uses for posing practice in his drawings. His favorite figure is of one of the characters in Cheese Vikings who has a zuko-esque backstory and a secret propensity for gardening

Dick always buys the most beat up box of cereal at the grocery store because he feels bad for them

Cass loves not only ballet, but other works by classical composers as well. She will unironically listen to the local classical station, and can identify the Borodin String Quartet by the sound of their instruments alone

Tim and Bruce watch and read Gray Ghost media in all its various forms and discuss it together as a bonding activity

Alfred and Jason’s shared birthday is usually celebrated with them making each other cakes, meaning that everyone gets to enjoy not one but two cakes for the day

Jason specializes in cheesecake above all other cakes, though he did make Damian a black forest cake for his birthday once right after he’d finished playing Portal

Literally everyone is surprised when they learn that Damian plays video games. No one has ever once looked at him and thought “yeah, i bet that kid plays console games” and he’s actually really insecure about it, but he also refuses to wear any kind of merch outside the house. He owns dozens of gaming and anime T-shirts but refuses to be seen as anything but completely neutral outside his own territory

Most of the bats wear drug-detecting nail polish at all times, though the base and reactive colors vary by the bat in question

Bruce and Dick have both had therapists straightup quit on them and are therefore reluctant to go back to therapy ever again

Duke’s favorite book is Walden Pond

Alfred read Lord of the Rings aloud to Bruce when he was a kid