#merry belated christmas folks

[jasontoddisasorceror]

Oh, I love it. What's up with the Jason/danny Ghost? Is it the other Jason's? And who brought Danny to this? Was it the ghost? Was it clockwork? Dan? Also I smell a custody battle brewing between the fentons and Bruce or maybe Dick?

sO i got to part two of the daniel jason todd fenton au :)

>:) word count 8k+

So, first, taglist for folks who asked for it: @blep-23 @mikyapixie @isnt-that-grape @randomenglishmajor @illryiannightmare @the-navistar-carol

SECOND: this part needs a trigger/content warning list: - CW Mild Swearing - CW Slight Psychological Horror - ^ CW mild depictions of being haunted by your own ghost/death flag and not realizing it (other people do though) - CW Brief Emetophobia (Danny throws up during a second nightmare) - CW Danny has nightmares of dying - except its of Jason Todd's warehouse death. It's not explicit but it's implied - TW Mild mentions of perceived Blood - TW Depictions of Corpses (first is non-descript, and then second one is slightly more descript but its not anything uh, super descriptive) - TW Mild description of burns (the descriptive part above) - TW Depictions of Panic Attacks (Danny's nightmares)

I mentioned that this au was inspired by a song lyric from Jann's 'Gladiator' here is that line:

I know your addiction's attention, Let's start a show Is it everything and more than you were hoping for? Show us something we ain't never seen before

The day after Danny meets himself, he's downstairs having breakfast in the dining room with the rest of the family, listening idly in on their conversations. Tim Drake is talking about something about Wayne Industries with Mr. Wayne - and wasn't that a startling surprise to learn the first time? - and Damian was slyly trying to feed Ace under the table. Duke Thomas was mid conversation with Cass, much of it audibly one-sided as Cass swaps between ASL and verbal speech.

(Danny comes across her a fair few amount of times in Wayne Manor. The first time was in the library. She hands him a book about planets, smiles, and walks away.)

(He hasn't talked much to Duke Thomas yet, but he plans to - he seems cool. They just haven't had the time to run into each other yet. Danny might just have to corner him, he thinks.)

And finally Dick Grayson on his left, his Dick Grayson, was talking away with the other Dick Grayson - who had stopped by from Bludhaven for the morning for his day off. He was a cop, ew. They were comparing lives, specifically college lives. There wasn’t much to talk about in their childhood, it seems. Danny was quietly listening in. 

(They both gave their Bruces headaches as children, apparently. Climbing the chandeliers and sliding down the staircase banisters. Flips and tricks only a child raised by the circus could do.) 

All-in-all, a very quiet morning, Danny thinks. That is, until the other Dick Grayson turns to him and goes; "I'm sure you've been asked already, but what do your parents do, Mini Jay?"

Danny squints at him, and releases his grip on his spoon to raise a pointed finger. "First off: only my Dick Grayson can call me Jay, you have your own." He says, slightly playful and nodding to Dick - oh that was going to get confusing, fast. He should come up with a nickname for one of them, probably - "And second: you're the second person to ask me that, actually. Jason - er, myself? - asked me yesterday. My parents are ectologists."

Apparently, mentioning that he met himself is a set of magic words, because the whole table stops what they're doing, and Danny's half-sinking back into his chair when all eyes turn to him in varying degrees of surprise. Dick - Richard, he’s going to call him Richard - looks at him with wide eyes and furrowed, confused brows. "You saw Jason?"

(Danny sends Bruce a confused look, but he's not paying attention - looking at everyone else with threaded eyebrows and a faint frown. Well, at least Danny isn't the only one confused by the reaction.)

(What a comfort.) 

"I guess that nickname is a dimensional constant." He mutters under his breath, and straightens up, eyeing the room warily. It... doesn't bode well to him that the Waynes were surprised by his other self's appearance -- was hisself estranged from the family?

...He hopes that doesn't happen in his world. Dick and Bruce may not be his adoptive family, but he likes them quite a lot. He wants to stay in contact with them when they get home.

"Yeah, he was in the library." He says, frowning at Richard Grayson. "He was sitting in my armchair." He supposes it was Jason's armchair first -- god, that was so weird to refer to himself in third person. "We talked for a little bit, and he asked me what my parents did. They're ectologists, by the way."

He turns to Mister Wayne and tilts his head, "Did you really not know that he was here?" He asks, narrowing his eyes. He wouldn't expect Richard to know, he doesn't live here. But Mister Wayne looks just as surprised, perhaps even a little remorseful.

(There’s a pit in his stomach that’s growing bigger.)

(His neck burns with a new pair of eyes, ones that he can’t see.) 

Mr. Wayne looks thoughtful for a moment, and then carefully, he goes; "Jason is rather... independent. He comes and goes from the manor when he feels like it." And the way he speaks sounds like he was choosing his words carefully. Danny suppresses the shiver of unease.

Something was not well in this house. Something unspoken was haunting the air. 

(Jason would know about hauntings, wouldn’t he?) 

He hopes history won't repeat itself, he likes Bruce quite a lot.

"...Alright," he says after a moment of silence, not hiding his wariness as he slowly turns back to Richard. His eyes flick towards Bruce, and then to Ricard. "Anyway, my parents are ectologists, as I've said for the third time now."

Richard, for his effort, takes the topic change easily, and his surprise shifts into one of curiosity - as does everyone else. (Did Danny really not mention what his parents did? Even Dick and Bruce look intrigued.) "That's... new." Richard says lightly, Danny commends him for the way he sounds non-judgmental. "What are ectologists?"

Danny quirks a dry half-smile, and deadpans; "Studiers of all things dead and afterlife."

...And there is that reaction again. A ripple of surprise and intrigue that spreads throughout the room as everyone looks at him, like a bunch of cats perking up their ears. 

On the other side of the table, Damian scoffs quietly, a sound much like the one Jason - the other one - did when Danny told him. Danny's eyes snap over to him in an instant, he stares at him, trying to study him. Why that reaction - again? 

He lets himself frown, briefly, before addressing Richard again. "Everyone just calls them ghost hunters, but the 'official' term is ectologists." He drawls, air-quoting the word 'official' with his fingers as he rolls his eyes. "They've been obsessed with ghosts since college. We even have a lab in the basement, and they keep liquid ectoplasm samples in the fridge."

Danny's been in the lab a handful of times, he and Jazz both have, either to clean it as part of their chores, or to listen to a lecture from their parents for their newest invention. The lab is cool, kinda, but Danny thinks it wouldn't look out of place in any evil lair of a Rogue with a doctorate. 

…He’s glad that the Fentons weren’t stationed in Gotham. They would have blown up a street. He’s surprised they haven’t already. 

"Ectoplasm?" Dick asks, leaning over to catch Danny's eye. Almost by instinct now Danny smiles at him, and then nods.

"Mom and dad say it's the stuff that makes ghosts." He explains, leaning back against his seat, his arms crossing. "It's invisible in its natural state, and it makes up everything. Kinda like the Force from Star Wars, or just, matter in general."

That cracks a few quiet, laugh-like sounds through the dining room. Danny halves a smile again, a swelling of pride in his chest that lingers for a moment. "My parents say that when ectoplasm condenses enough in one area, it can start taking on visible properties," he continues, "they say that ghosts are just the memories and emotions of a dying person or animal being imprinted on a concentration of ectoplasm, and that the ghost itself isn't actually the person or animal, just matter trying to mimic it."

Which Danny guesses makes sense, even if the way they talk about ghosts made him really uncomfortable. His parents insisted that ghosts weren't actually people, but he just couldn't shake the idea that they were. How close to ‘human’ does something get before they actually are? 

Well, no, that wasn’t fair. Superman wasn’t human, and yet everyone treated him like he was. Let him rephrase himself:

How human-like must something get before they are considered as such? Before they’re considered sapient and sentient, and real?  

"That's... quite interesting." Someone says, and Danny turns to see Bruce leaning his elbows against the table and putting his chin on threaded fingers. He looks genuinely engrossed in what Danny's said, and pride once again leaks into his heart. "You mentioned they kept ectoplasm in a liquified state in their... fridge?"

"Oh yeah," Danny says, putting his full attention to Bruce, "it's crazy. They keep little test tube racks in the freezer full of liquid ectoplasm, and it's this - uh - glowing, bright green stuff. It used to be the weirdest thing in the house."

(From his peripherals, Danny notices the room tense up again at his description — and he bites back the urge to slow his talking down and narrow his eyes. Suspicious. Suspicious. The Waynes weren’t scientists - why do they react to something like they are?)

(Nobody knows what ectoplasm is. To the scientific world, it's an unconfirmed theory of a state of matter. Why do the Waynes act like they know what it is?)

(Danny is not stupid. Even if his scientific family makes him feel like it, sometimes.) 

Bruce gives him this half-tilted, confused smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. "Used to be?"

Danny opens his mouth, the answer already on the tip of his tongue -- and then he freezes. His jaw clicks shut as he frowns. Should he say what his parents' latest pet project was? Surely, surely, it would be fine? Their inventions never work - and a life-sized portal is just another thing on his parents' crazy ideas list.

His teeth sink into his bottom lip, chewing on the skin as he rolls the answer over in his head. ...Surely, it would be fine. His face turns in hesitance, and his shoulders scrunch and twist to his ears, like he's about to admit something that could get him grounded by his parents.

"They... may, or may not, be building an inter-dimensional portal in the basement?" His voice steadily pitches upward nervously the longer he speaks. By the time he finishes, his voice is close to a squeaky pitch.

There is a horrified silence that follows him, sitting in the air so still-like that Danny could hear the whoosh of a pin drop. He should have expected that, nervously surveying the ranging horrified expressions on the Wayne family's faces. "...I promise they're harmless... to the living." He hesitates, "Mostly."

Bruce stares at him for a long moment. "Mostly?" He repeats, his brows arched high and pinched together. Danny cringes back a little.

"Dad's a little clumsy, that's all." He says, shrugging with a helpless smile. It doesn't help, he thinks, and the silence is strangling. Sitting up, he's a little frantic to add; "I really, really, doubt it's going to work, Bruce. Their inventions never do. Mom and dad built a mini portal in college and it didn't work either!" There's a moment of silence following him, before he quietly adds, wincing, "It- it did hospitalize the guy who was helping them, though."

He only heard about that when he asked his parents about the portal - it was still in production when they picked him up. Jack Fenton claimed it was safe as safe could be - they’d make sure that the ‘college’ instance never happened again.

Bruce - both Bruces actually - looked vaguely ill at the thought. Mister Wayne’s face was blank, his face sunk into his folded hands, and Bruce’s stare burned into Danny, intense like concentrated fire. 

Danny for some reason - either through his panicked urge to make things better, or through temporary insanity - laughs forcibly. "The worst thing that could happen is that the portal could explode, but that never happens."

Next to him, Dick makes a stressed sound. "That's not better, Jay." He forces out. He looks even more horrified.

Danny sucks on his bottom lip for a long beat. Then lets out a breath.

"Yeah, I know." Danny sighs, deep and long while his shoulders slump. He watches the room for a moment, with their various stony-like expressions, and looks back at the very concerned-looking Bruce. "But Bruce, I swear it's fine. Nothing's gonna happen, please don't call the Justice League on my parents. They really are harmless."

Bruce looks conflicted.

"I was being dramatic when I said the portal could explode, it won't." He continues, giving Bruce what Jazz has called his 'cheating puppy eyes'. "My parents are eccentric about their line of work, but they understand lab safety. They'd never do anything to put me and Jazz in danger."

...Actively or on purpose, that is.

He and Bruce stare each other down. One second, two seconds; what feels like thirty seconds pass in silence before Bruce relents, sighing deeply and uncannily dad-like. He drags a hand down his face, and rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "When we get back to our universe, you are giving me your phone number so you can contact me if anything happens."

Danny beams, nodding hurriedly. "Thank you, Buzz."

Bruce isn't able to hide his smile - small as it was - quickly enough. "You're welcome, Danny."

—-----

Danny has a nightmare that night. He doesn't remember most of it. There's a ticking sound, and high laughter, and there is a thumping heartbeat in his ears. Everything is dark and he is in agonizing pain.

He wakes up in paralyzing terror, a scream lodged in the back of his throat. His head pounds like a concussion and there is a shallowing ache in his ribs, like someone's kicked him, and kicked him, and kicked him until all air has been knocked from his lungs. He can't breathe.

Danny's hands scrabble for his throat, and even though he can hear himself gasping for air, it doesn't feel like he's taking any of it in. There is no relief in the action, no reassurance, and everything is so hot. He kicks at his blankets, his panic growing higher as they tangle around his legs.

He needs-

He needs--

He needs to move. He needs to get up. He needs to free himself. He needs to prove that he's not dying. He feels like he's dying. He feels like he's burning. There are tears swelling in his eyes as he finally gets the blankets off his feet, and he rolls - quite literally - out of bed.

He tries to catch himself, he does. But he doesn't. He hits the floor with a heavy thud and can hardly bring himself to care -- he catches himself on his elbows, and the sting it causes makes him feel worse. The air is knocked out of his chest again. 

The ground is cold though, blessedly cold. And before Danny can realize this, he lifts his head and, disoriented, looks for the door. It's too dark, it's too dark. His head swivels blindly in search of it. He needs to get out, he needs to escape. 

"Bruce." He croaks, still trying to force air down into his lungs. His call comes out raspy, weak, and hot tears blur his vision.

"Dick." He tries instead when a minute passes and no one comes, and he thinks he can finally start breathing. No one comes to find him - his voice is too quiet to wake anyone up. The tears in his eyes bubble and pop, and stream down his face.

He makes a distressed noise. "Jazz?" He whispers, his voice shaky and uneven with an encompassing want for his sister. It's nearly been a month since they got here. He wants Jazz.

No one hears him. He's alone.

God, he doesn't want to be alone. Please don't make him be alone.

Danny eventually gets himself calmed down. But he is curled up on the floor, trembling with the lingering traces of fear from whatever dream had woken up. His fingers dig painfully into his arms, leaving crescent-moon indents by his nails. The contents of the nightmare are already fading further into his mind, slipping out of his hands like water. Like ash.

He feels no need to chase after it.

The back of his shirt is damp with sweat, and in between the trembling he is also shivering, goosebumps lacing up his arms. His eyes have adjusted to the dark, and he stares with wide, crying eyes at the side of his bed. His breath comes out in short, shaky pants.

He doesn't know how long he lays there, trying to comprehend what happened as his mind still hangs onto the edge of the dreamworld. It feels like there is something in the room with him, crawling along the walls.

Danny forces himself to get up, and the sudden standing makes his vision blacken and swim as blood rushes to his head. He stumbles, slightly, and lurches halfway across the room for the light switch.

He squints as the room is drenched in light, chasing away the lingering paranoia in the back of his brain. He is still shaking. His head still hurts. He still looks, wide eyed, around the room for anything out of place.

There is none.

But he still feels unsafe. He needs- he needs to find someone, or go somewhere else. He grabs a firm pillow off the bed, and leaves.

(He ends up in the library alone. He turns on the lights and grabs a book Dick recommended to him, and he curls up tight in his armchair. He ends up falling asleep just as the sun is rising.)

(He doesn't tell anyone about the nightmare.)

-

Progress in getting the three of them back to their home dimension is slow. Dimension Hopping is a rare experience, and what update Bruce gets he relays back to Danny and Dick: they're trying to figure out a way to send them back safely, from the exact time they disappeared, and to find what dimension they're from. It's complicated magic.

It's been three weeks. 

Danny, for one, is getting homesick. He misses Jazz, Sam, and Tucker terribly, and his parents. Bruce and Dick are great, really, and Danny kinda wants to keep in touch with them after they return to their own world, but they aren't replacements of his sister and friends.

His nightmare from a few days ago still haunt his steps. He closes eyes, and that high-pitched laughter and blood-rushed pounding burns itself his ears and fills a level of unseen terror into his heart. Danny thinks that if he was hit with Scarecrow's fear gas, this is what it would feel like.

He tries to avoid falling asleep by reading in his room, by stargazing, but the place sets him on edge; an unsettling reminder of that nightmare. So he goes to the library when it gets too much, he's run into Bruce twice now doing it, and they both do reading.

Danny thinks Bruce can suspect something is up with him, but he doesn't want to tell him about that nightmare. Dick either, for that matter. He just wants to forget it.

They spend afternoons in the gym, they have it mostly to themselves - Tim Drake is at Wayne Industries, Damian Wayne is at school, so is Duke Thompson, and Cassandra Cain is... doing whatever she does during the day. Danny's not totally sure.

Dick in that time, tries showing Danny how to be more flexible. He says he's a fast learner, but Danny knows he's been slacking lately with his lack of sleep.

There isn't much they can do outside of the manor - Bruce and Dick can't go outside because they'll catch the attention of the paparazzi, and they are both significantly younger than their counterparts, and Danny isn't allowed out without a chaperone.

Which has its own unique set of problems because rumors could rapidly start if he's seen with any of the Waynes multiple times. The paparazzi aren’t dumb enough… okay, most — some — of them aren’t dumb enough to make a tabloid claiming there’s a new Wayne kid just because they see the Waynes interacting with one kid, one time. Multiple times however? That’s another story. And, he has the same issue as Bruce and Dick - he's a baby-faced Jason Todd. Who is Bruce Wayne's adoptive son in this world. He could be recognized. 

And how do you explain a tiny Jason Todd to a world where Jason Todd is a full grown man?

So all three of them are... stuck inside, so to speak. And making do with what they can. Danny spends most of his morning and early noon with Dick, and then they both separate after to have time to themselves before dinner.

Bruce is in one of the studies, doing... something. Danny's not sure and he keeps forgetting to ask.

--

Dick likes Danny - Jason? - Jay. Danny said that he can call him Jason, and he doesn't protest to being called Jay. 

Point is: he likes Jay. He's a delightful kid to be around; he's funny, and clever, even if he doesn't realize it himself. And Dick's a little upset that Jay isn't his brother in his world, he would've loved to have him around the manor. He probably would have visited more if he was around.

Something that he and Bruce were still slowly trying to fix...

He likes spending time with him - getting to teach him his acrobatic tricks was not something he expected, but he loves showing Jay how to do them. He thinks this is probably how Bruce felt when he was training Dick how to be Robin, all those years ago.

Speaking of which, Dick was still not over the Robin jacket that Jay wore. The origins of it weren't the best - Jay started wearing it to take back the insult the other kids at his school were throwing at him - but isn't that what part of what being Robin was about? 

Cheesy, he knows. But his point still stands.

He thinks that if he had to pass the Robin title down to anyone, it would be Daniel Jason Todd-Fenton. Or perhaps just Jason Fenton-Todd? Jay doesn’t seem all that attached to the name Danny. 

(“Mom and dad just started calling me it when they picked me up.” Danny — Jay shrugged when Dick asked him about it, the two of them swinging from bar to bar. “I wasn’t tellin’ ‘em my name at the time, so they gave me a new one.”) 

If he had met Jason before the Fentons had, Dick thinks maybe he would have adopted him instead. And what would that future look like? Would he have been able to, when he had to go to college and classes? Would he have been able to keep going out at night, and keep that secret to himself? 

He’ll never know, he supposes. 

“I think that’s it for today.” Dick says, swinging off the jungle gym and landing on the mats with a cat-like thump. Behind him, Jay groans, and drops with a less graceful thud as Dick stretches out his spine. There’s a satisfying pop-pop-pop of his back as he leans back. 

He turns, and sees Jay going for his water bottle. He looks tired — from what, Dick doesn’t know. But there are dark bags under his eyes and a sleep-distracted look on his face. He’s been distracted, and their lessons have been suffering from it. 

Dick wants to know what’s bothering him, but Jay hasn’t said anything, and Dick doesn’t know what he could say to make it better. 

“I can still keep going.” Jason insists, but he tiredly slumps over to grab his water, and straightens up sluggishly. It’s probably not a lie, but anything Dick shows him he doubts that Jay will retain it. “You don’t have to stop.”

“Oh but I want to.” Dick says, walking over to grab his own water. “I’m human too you know—” and Jay snorts at him with a grumbled ‘doubt it’. “—so I also need my breaks.” 

“With the way you can bend I really don’t think so.” Jason mutters, eyeing him up and down. Dick laughs quietly and takes a long sip of his water. “Seriously, circus boy, what do they feed you? Actually - what did they feed myself?”

Dick’s laughter doubles as Jay’s eyes grow wide and wild, his head shaking with spasming arms. “No, seriously! I don’t know if you’ve seen the other me yet, Dick, but he- he’s fucking huge!” He exclaims, and jumps as high as he can as his arms try to make a silhouette above his head. “I- I’m almost as big as Jack Fenton, and we’re not even biologically related! I don’t know where he got that much height to him, ‘cause- ‘cause Willis, that drunk bastard, was never that big!” 

Dick hasn’t seen the elusive other Jason Todd, and he’s been so curious about him. Both he and Bruce have — especially considering that everyone else doesn’t seem to want to tell them about him. He tried stopping his other self to ask about Jason Todd of his world, and his other self just said that he was his little brother and the second robin, and that he did a lot of his own stuff. 

It was a whole bunch of fucking nothing. And he and Bruce were growing suspicious about it. They hadn’t thought of it before because, well, they were busy adjusting to being in a new world and trying to figure out a way back. And then Jason was never really brought up, but neither was Dick Grayson unless Dick asked about it, and he didn’t think to ask about Jason Todd before.

It was all just strange.

But Jay’s exclamation over the size of himself distracts Dick long enough that he forces himself to put the mystery of Jason Todd on the backburner for now. “I’ll- I’ll have to see him for myself, Jaybird.” He says when his laughter subsides, and he straightens up. 

“Seriously,” Jay stresses, and he starts to make his way towards the gym door. “He’s fucking massive, Dick. Built like a brick shithouse.” 

Dick almost starts laughing again, “Where did you even learn that phrase?” 

Jay rolls his shoulders back and grins at him slyly, “I read.” He says, and it’s so clearly not how he learned that word that Dick barks out a laugh. 

They reach the door, and Jay holds the door open as Dick reaches for the light switch. He looks behind him, surveying the room quickly to make sure that there’s nothing they could have left on the floor, before turning off the lights.

Bright green eyes stare at him from the mirror. Right where Jay is standing. 

In an instant, the lights are back on. Dick’s heart has been kickstarted into fifth gear, suddenly and loudly racing in his chest as he darts his head around the room. It was only two seconds, perhaps only even one, but fear has been shot like an adrenaline needle into Dick’s veins. An inhuman, skyrocketing fear alike to Scarecrow’s fear gas. 

What was that?

What was that?

WHAT WAS THAT?  

But there’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. There is only Jason where the eyes were. 

From the mirror’s reflection, Jason turns his head — he hadn’t been looking at Dick, he hadn’t been looking at Dick — and stares up at him. There is confusion written on his face as he glances up at Dick, and then at the mirror. He meets his eyes - Jason’s blue, blue, not green, eyes — and Dick forces himself to look away from the mirror and down at Jay.

“What was that for?” Jay asks him, perfectly normal and perfectly confused. 

Dick feels like he just ran a marathon. He’s panting, he doesn’t know why, and he forces himself to sound like he wasn’t as he wets his lips and furrows his brows. “I thought I saw something.” He says, frowning. 

He didn’t think. He did. He did. 

What did he see? 

It was standing where Jay was. Those eyes. Those green-green eyes. It was where Jay was. He forces himself to shake his head, his frown deepening, unsettled. Jason peers around him as if to see what he had, and Dick puts a hand on his chest, stopping him. “It was nothing, let's go.” 

He turns Jay around, and ignores his bewildered look. That lighthearted mood he had earlier has plummeted, replaced with an eerie paranoia as he takes the door from Jason’s hand and flicks the lights back off. 

When he looks over his shoulder at the mirror, there’s nothing there. 

—------------

Danny has another nightmare. It’s the same one. It’s dark again. That high pitched laughter fills his ears. The ticking is louder, louder, louder. It’s counting down, but to what - he can’t see — he can’t see what it’s counting down to. 

There is still so much pain. His head hurts, his body hurts. He has a body now, he can remember he has a body. He’s in so much pain. He looks down at his hands and pooling around his knees is a bloody yellow cape, it’s torn and bloody and his hands are bloody and torn and he’s wearing green gloves. 

He wakes up just before the ticking stops. He doesn’t know how he knows that the ticking stops. 

Danny rolls over and hangs himself sideways off the bed, gasping for air that doesn’t come. He wants to scream again, to shriek with such terror that it sends everyone in the manor running into his room. He doesn’t, he can’t, he has no mouth and he must scream. 

Danny gasps for air instead, and then dry heaves until he throws up onto the floor. His head is spinning with the fadings of a dream-made concussion, again. His chest hurts deeper, more, it’s no longer shallow and as if someone was sitting on his chest, like someone had beat him in the stomach and chest and head.  

He feels like he’s choking. He is, he’s choking on what bile he can’t get out of his throat, and he forces himself to swallow it back down. He’s crying, he realizes, and dragging in air down into his lungs to the point it hurts. 

What is going on? He thinks through the haze in his mind. With what lucidity he has he brings a hand to his head to make sure he’s not bleeding. His palm swipes against sticky skin, and all that comes back is sweat. He’s not bleeding. He feels like he is. 

Make it stop. His inner mind wails as he finally, finally, starts to calm down again. He’s still crying. The tears burn down his cheeks, and he absently sticks out his tongue and licks the ones that gather at his lips away. He wipes at his face again, and when he looks at his hands, all he sees is skin.

He’s not wearing gloves. 

His hands reach for his back, and grasp his sweat-soaked shirt instead. He’s not wearing a cape. It soothes him, just a little bit. But not enough to keep him feeling safe. 

Danny peers over the side of the bed, and through his dark-adjusted eyes he sees the sitting puddle of throw-up on the floor. He cringes, sniffling. He can’t keep that there. He needs to — he needs to clean that up. 

Alfred must be sleeping by now — what time is it? He doesn’t know. He can’t wake him up. Where does Alfred keep the cleaning supplies? 

Danny throws his legs over the side — they’re not broken, he thinks dazedly — why would he think they’re broken? — and he stumbles to the door. He avoids, somehow, the sick.

(He passes by a mirrored vanity on his way to the door. He doesn’t see his reflection staring at him with green-green eyes. He doesn’t see those eyes following him.) 

He runs into Bruce in the hallway. He should have guessed it so. Danny freezes in his tracks, fear shooting up into his throat as Bruce turns towards him, already a smile pulling on the older man’s face. 

It drops immediately when he sees him. It twists down, and his face burrows into concern. “What’s wrong?” He asks, and Bruce is kneeling before him before Danny can blink. He looks worried. Danny must look awful then.

(He does. He looks pale as a ghost, and his face is splotchy red and shiny with tears.) 

Danny blinks at him numbly, trying to get his thoughts in order. Bruce’s hands are on his shoulders, Danny throws his hands over them, squeezing the knuckles and blinking widely. “I had-” he licks his lips, “a- uh, nightmare. And then I threw up.”

Fuck, he feels like a toddler. His eyes burn with embarrassed tears. He’s fucking thirteen. He’s not a baby. But he feels like a little kid going to their parent’s room. Bruce isn’t even his dad. He shouldn’t feel this way. 

But Bruce doesn’t make fun of him, or scold him, and Danny didn’t really expect him to, but the concern that melts over his face as his eyes soften makes him feel all warm and fuzzy anyways. “Okay,” Bruce says, expression softened but no less worried, and stands up. “Okay, we can go find Alfred then.” 

Danny’s lips press together, uneven and wobbling. “Please don’t.” He says before he can stop himself, and his voice cracks. He feels like such a baby. “I can clean it myself. We don’t have to wake him up.” 

“Do you even know where the cleaning supplies are, chum?” Bruce asks, and in the dark hallway he can see him raise an eyebrow. Danny’s lips press tighter together. He doesn’t. But he can find it. 

They wake up Alfred. Dany feels like shit the entire time. 

“I’m sorry.” He croaks as he follows Alfred and Bruce down the hallway with a mop and a bucket. He’s so embarrassed. He’s going to cry again, and he hates it. “I can do it, Mister Pennyworth. Please.” 

“You sound,” Mister Pennyworth starts, his voice soft, “just like young Master Jason when he started living here.” He turns to throw Danny an endeared smile, and Danny thinks it’s supposed to make him feel better. It does, a little bit, and it also makes him feel worse. 

“I am Jason.” He says, and tears spill down his face again. He is Jason. That’s his name. It’s not Danny, it never has been. The time he’s been here has slowly been pointing that out to him. He may be Fenton, but he’s not Danny. 

Alfred gets it all cleaned up, and Bruce sticks with him after he leaves. Danny’s grateful and resentful of it — hasn’t he embarrassed himself enough tonight? 

Bruce leads him to the library, a funny parallel to the first time. “We can ask Mister Wayne —” Bruce’s face scrunches up slightly, and Danny laughs under his breath. At least he’s not the only one still weirded out by it. “— about getting you a new room tomorrow.” 

Danny sniffs dryly, “How’d you know?” He didn’t think it was obvious that he didn’t want to go to sleep in his room. Bruce smiles knowingly at him, sadly, and they both sit down in the lounge chair next to the fireplace. It sits across from Danny’s armchair.

“I know a thing or two about nightmares.” He says softly.

Oh. 

Yeah.

That’s right. His parents. 

He probably had nightmares about that. 

Danny looks away from him, his eyes drop to his hands. His bare, non-bloody hands. He leans into Bruce’s side. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He mumbles. He doesn’t want to talk about dying. Or what he thought was dying.  

“And you don’t have to.” Bruce says, slinging one arm around him and slumping against the curve of the chair. Danny reluctantly follows his falling, and finds himself trapped between the back of the chair and Bruce’s side. His ear is pressed to Bruce’s heartbeat. “We can just sit here, and talk about something else.” 

Danny blinks at the empty fireplace. “Okay. Tell me about films again.” 

Bruce’s fingers dig gently into his hair, and scratch slowly against his scalp. “Okay, Danny.” 

Danny frowns. “And don’t call me Danny. It’s Jason.” 

He doesn’t look up to see Bruce’s smile, but he can hear it as the man thumbs over the shell of his ear. “Okay, Jason.” 

(Danny falls asleep halfway through Bruce’s telling of the history of the Grey Ghost. Bruce knows by the way his breathing slows into a steady rhythm and his eyes don’t open.) 

(He smiles for mite a moment, before it drops and his eyes turn to the bookshelf in the corner. Standing there is a small black figure, with two burning green eyes.) 

(They stare at each other for a long, long minute, Bruce’s heart rising slowly. The figure tilts its head, and disappears. Bruce doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.) 

—-------

Danny stares down Bruce. Bruce stares him down back. It’s morning. It’s breakfast. Everyone is at the table eating, and he and Bruce are having a silent staring contest. Danny has to ask Mister Wayne about moving to a new room, he thought he would be able to do so after breakfast. 

(Who was he kidding? He wasn’t going to ask at all - why bother Mister Wayne about something he can get over?) 

(Bruce, apparently, wasn’t having it. With that stupid knowing look on his face.) 

But Bruce wants it to be now. Danny narrows his eyes at him, and Bruce raises an eyebrow back. Dick Grayson, his world, was going to notice soon. He was sitting next to Bruce this morning. That traitor. 

If you don’t do it, I will. Bruce’s face says. Bastard. Danny was going to take away his Jason rights.

Danny’s the first to relent, pressing his lips together into an annoyed, thin line, before he lets out a silent sigh and turns to Mister Wayne. “Mister Wayne?” He says, cringing slightly when Mister Wayne looks up at him - as with most of the room. 

“Yes, Danny?” 

He spares one last look at Bruce, who nods curtly at him, and Danny throws him one last annoyed look before turning back to Mister Wayne. “Would it, uh, be fine if I changed rooms?” He asks. 

Mister Wayne tilts his head, slightly, to the side with a look of interest. “You can, but what brought this up? Is everything okay?”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Danny was expecting that question. He glares at Bruce from the corner of his eye. And then smiles shakily at Mister Wayne. “Um, uh, yeah. Everything’s fine— it’s just, it’s stupid. Some, some stupid nightmares keeping me up.” 

Mister Wayne’s brows furrow, and Dick looks concerned from Danny’s peripherals. “It’s not stupid, you can change your room. I’m sorry you’ve been having nightmares.”

He doesn’t even ask what they’re about. Bruce didn’t either — he thinks he would’ve, maybe — but fuck, jeez. Danny laughs uncomfortably, scratching his jaw. “Yeah- um, thanks. It sucks.” He just barely stops himself from blurting out that he was dreaming that he was dying.

That was not a can he wanted to open. They would have questions, he knows they would, and he doesn’t want to think about it. The image of his bloody, torn hands are already seared into his mind. 

Everyone goes back to eating.

(Dick keeps looking up at him with a shadow of a frown on his face, like he’s keeping an eye on him. Quick enough that Danny doesn’t notice it. Bruce does, and watches his son from the corner of his eye.)

(Danny doesn’t see it, but his reflection turns its head. And peers around the back of its chair. Its eye burns green and it stares at Dick. The next time Dick looks up, it catches his eye.)

(He doesn’t straighten up, he forces himself not to react. He just keeps staring at it, his breath locked in his lungs, his limbs filling with a low, buzzing static. He doesn’t know what it is. It’s terrifying him.)

(The reflection doesn’t react to him, but its eyes seem to… glitch. And an eye appears next to it, and another one appears in a line. The pupils slowly turn to look… at Danny.)

(The window begins to crack.)

“JaSON!” Dick suddenly yells, standing up so abruptly that his chair falls back and slams against the ground with an echoing bang. Danny jerks back in surprise, and stares at Dick, who looks at him with equally wide eyes. 

Dick looks like he’s seen a ghost, his face pale as a sheet. He looks ill. He’s panting, there’s a sheen going over his forehead, like he’s just run a mile. But he’s gripping the table like he may just vault over it.

And everyone is looking at them both once again. Bruce looks incredibly concerned. 

“I— what?” Danny says, pushing his back into the chair as far as he could go. 

Dick blinks, and heaves a breath. Like whatever trance he was in was just… snapped out of. His brows furrow, and he moves, suddenly, peering over Danny like he’s trying to look around him. Left, right, and over, and then back again. 

“You—” he pauses, breathing in, “you looked like you were about to disappear.” 

Danny stares at him in disbelief. And he looks behind him, laughing nervously. There’s nothing there but his own reflection in the smooth glass window. “What- what kind of fucking—” he turns back around to look at Dick. “Why would you say that?” 

“There was something in the window.” Dick says immediately, and Danny is immediately rising to his feet and rushing around the table. Nope - nope, nope, fuck that. He’s by him and Bruce in an instant, as the other Waynes stand up and turn to the window as well.

Dick’s arms are around him the moment he’s within reach, tugging him into his side as one hand presses down against his chest, keeping him close. Dick hasn’t taken his eyes off the window, brows furrowed and serious. 

Everyone looks so serious. It’s freaking him out a little bit. 

“What was your nightmare about, Jay?” Dick asks when he finally tears his eyes away from the window and looks down at him. He’s got a protective hold on him, something so similar to Jazz whenever their parents set something on fire upstairs. 

Danny swallows dryly — does he have to say it? Saying it might bring him back to it, and he doesn’t want to go back to it. Twice was enough for him. “I was dying.” He admits anyways, and regrets it immediately when half a dozen heads all snap to look at him. 

In a panic, his mouth runs. “I was- I don’t remember anything- I just, it was dark and I was in pain and-” He presses his lips together, “I— I was in so much pain. There was this laughter—” Laughter. Familiar laughter now that he thinks about it. From the news. Danny’s lips curl downwards, and he whispers to himself, “Joker?”

“Joker?” Dick repeats, his voice hard. When Danny looks up, his face is unrecognizably stern. “You had a dream that the Joker was killing you?” 

“I— no— yes?” Frustration bleeds into his chest, fear pooling up his throat as the nightmare pulls on the edge of his memory. “I don’t fucking know. I didn’t see anything, all I heard was ticking and that stupid laughter. And I was bleeding, and I was wearing this yellow fucking cape, and- and I was dying.” 

He pulls himself away from Dick, his breathing picking up. “I just- I was— there was this ticking sound and I woke up before it stopped, and I- I don’t know why I knew it was about to stop — but I know that when the ticking stops something bad was going to happen— and it was just a nightmare.” 

Danny grits his teeth, and looks back up at Dick, forcing himself to calm down before he works himself into a panic. “It was just a fucking nightmare, Dick.” He says forcibly, and then he marches out of the room to the library. 

His appetite’s been ruined. 

—---------

Danny’s — Jason’s — asleep next to him. Bruce would think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that Jason’s been having nightmares about dying of all things. Nightmares that weren’t, he suspects, completely unfounded. 

His other self looked ill in the face as Jason marched out of the room that morning after Dick’s outburst. Outburst. That’s all he can think to call it even if it sounds juvenile. Like it was unfounded as Jason’s nightmare. 

His other self has been hiding something from him. Something about Jason Todd of this world, who he hasn’t seen at all since they arrived, but Danny — Jason — has. He would’ve thought the other Todd was a ghost if his other world’s… children… hadn’t confirmed seeing and knowing him recently. 

(That was something he still hasn’t fully comprehended. Children, plural? He adopts more after Dick? He has a biological son?) 

He’d be interrogating his other self on this if Jason wasn’t asleep next to him. It would be remarkably easy, as they were all sitting in the living room for the afternoon. All his other children were vigilantes, he wouldn’t need to keep pretenses.

But Jason is asleep next to him, and he doesn’t know. So he resolves to staring holes into his other self’s head, who was going through documents. A case, he bets. His other self doesn’t pay him any mind, but Bruce knows he knows that he’s staring at him. 

(“What have you been keeping from me?” He growls the moment Jason is out of the dining room, rising to his feet. The look on his other self meant that he knew something about those nightmares that Bruce didn’t. 

His other self looks at him, “Nothing that concerns your world.” He says, all of the kids looked tense as well, but now they were staring between the both of them like a fight would break out. 

“Bullshit.” Dick snaps before Bruce can speak, he walks around him and points an accusing finger at his other self. “You looked like you saw a ghost when Jaybird said he was dreaming of the Joker killing him. You know something.”

He did not tell them anything.) 

Whatever it was that his other self was hiding, Bruce would find out before they went back to their world. This concerned him, and it concerned Jason’s safety. If he wasn’t safe and his other self knew something about it, Bruce would be furious. 

Jason’s ragged gasp cut through the air like a knife, and Bruce’s gaze snapped down to his face as the boy’s eyes flew open and he jerked sharply. Jason’s hands were latched onto his shirt before Bruce could react, his nails dragging into his skin like he was trying to claw himself up.

It was another nightmare. Jason was clawing at him, trying to sit himself up while jagged, awful sounding gasps filled the air. He wasn’t looking at Bruce, he wasn’t looking at anything, his eyes glazed over like he was still trapped in the nightmare. 

Bruce wrapped his arms around the small boy and pulled them both down onto the ground, ignoring his other children standing up and looking at them until he had Jay in a cradle. 

The boy was still gasping for air, hyperventilating. His hands drop from Bruce’s shirt and scratch at his throat, his arms forming an ‘x’ while he tilts his head back and desperately tries to draw in oxygen. Bruce tilts his head back up with his hand, and leans him against his shoulder. 

“Breathe.” He murmurs, pushing damp black curls out of Jay’s face. It was a poor command - Jason’s eyes were squeezed shut and his face scrunched in pain, Bruce doesn’t think he can even hear him. “You’re safe.” 

“Bruce.” Dick hisses into his ear, and Bruce doesn’t look at him. He grunts to let his son know he heard him. “The mirror.” 

Bruce’s eyes fly up.

There was a floor length mirror sitting in front of the couch. A mirror that Bruce was conveniently, coincidentally, sitting in front of. A mirror that should have been working as all mirrors do. 

A mirror that, instead of showing Bruce his reflection back as he was, showed him in his Batman suit. Jason was in his arms, but in a torn, bloody uniform. A uniform that looked like a Robin suit. Jason - his Jason - wasn’t a Robin. But here he was, dressed as one, his black-yellow cape pooling beneath him and covered in blood. 

The Jason in the mirror, the Robin, wasn’t breathing. His head lolled over Bruce’s arm lifelessly. 

Bruce’s heart skids to a stop, and he looks back down. Jason was still breathing, his hyperventilating was beginning to slow, but he was breathing. The pained crease of his face was softening, even as his brows were still furrowed. 

When Bruce looks back up at the mirror, the reflection has changed. It wasn’t back to normal, Jason was just in a different suit. He was wearing a white hazmat suit now, and he was burned, horribly. The suit was melted to his skin in patches around his body in black, charred splotches, what wasn’t burned was torn, and the skin he could see was cauterized. The only part of him that was bleeding was his head, and it soaked his black hair red. What of his face he could see, there were bright green lightning figures going up his neck, burning the skin around where it glows. 

The mirror cracks down the middle, severing Jason from Bruce. 

He forces himself to look down, terrified to see the reflection a reality right in front of him. But Jason was alive, uninjured, and breathing quietly. Bruce presses two fingers to his throat, and feels a steady pulsepoint thumping against the pads of his fingers.

Jason’s eyes open and blue stares up at him.  

When Bruce looks up at the mirror, the reflection is back to normal.  

[solitaire-sol]

02. Soft

For: @prongsfoot-microfic Month: December 2023 AO3: Link Notes: Merry (possibly belated) Christmas, and equivalent holidays, to everyone who celebrates them! I just wanted to put out a little Christmas fluff to break my lack-of-posting streak. <3

They’d spent the day out-of-doors, tramping through snow-covered fields and wading through thigh-high drifts like colder, friendlier quicksand, competing to build the most ostentatious snow sculpture before trying to stuff snow down the back of each other’s coats. By the time James and Sirius had returned to the house, the coats in question thoroughly soaked when the snow-stuffing had become an impromptu wrestling match, twilight had already fallen and the village had been illuminated by festive lights and flickering tapers in red and white wax.

Christmas had come to Godric’s Hollow, or at least it was nearly there, and the air was layered with pine and cinnamon over the fresh, clean, cold scent of new-fallen snow. James and Sirius wandered back to James’ house, where the windows were glowing in warm welcome despite the fact that no one was home: James’ parents had gone visiting, as they did every holiday, and James would normally go with them except that Sirius was there, which took priority. James had been apologetic when he’d informed his mother and father, but Euphemia and Fleamont hadn’t seemed at all surprised-- The boys were old enough to look after themselves for a night or two, and the ‘old folks’ had departed with only a few cursory warnings against burning the cottage down.

After the two of them had stamped the snow from their boots, discarding their sodden coats in the mudroom, they'd only had to glance at each other before they were racing for the stairs, elbowing each other mostly-playfully as they clattered up the carpeted steps and separated at the landing: James darted into his room, then into the adjoining bathroom, while a hastily-slammed door from down the hall signalled Sirius' disappearance into the guest bath. Taps were turned, prompting hot water to rush out from pipes charmed to convey the perfect temperature, and the billowing steam fogged up the mirrors in each bathroom. Sirius, still his mother's son, couldn't help but take the time to wash and detangle and mostly dry his hair; so that by the time he made his way back downstairs, James was already in the kitchen, a towel around his shoulders and his hair still damp from the bath as he applied frothy whipped cream to two mugs of hot chocolate with far more care than he showed in Potions.

James looked up as Sirius entered the kitchen, passing him the mug with a cartoonish dog gazing mournfully up on the side; their fingers brushed together, just a little, and something in Sirius was warmed by more than just the hot bath, more than just the heat from the ceramic under his palm. James' mug had an out-of-proportion deer on it in the same cartoony style, both cups were bought as a joke the year before, but they were 'their' mugs and saw plenty of use whenever Sirius came to stay. The mugs were a set, after all, just as Sirius and James made a pair.

Hot chocolate successfully procured, the boys made for the plush sofa in the living room, where Sirius stoked the embers in the fireplace with a flick of his wand as James flung himself onto the couch with reckless disregard for the whipped cream and molten chocolate in his hand.

“Budge up,” Sirius ordered, causing James to grin at the faux-authority in his tone, and there was a good deal of jostling and wriggling before they found something that suited them-- Half-sprawled across the length of the sofa, Sirius' back wedged in the corner of the backrest and the couch's arm, James' back to his front. Long limbs and lean bodies slotted together with zero room to spare, and something that might still have attracted covert stares and curious speculation in the Gryffindor common room could be as easy and as natural as it felt. Sirius reached behind him with his free hand and seized a handful of the thick quilt draped over the sofa’s back, pulling it forward and draping it over James, who picked up the edge and tucked it around them like a two-occupant cocoon.

It might have surprised those curious Housemates to hear the surprisingly gentle cadence of the conversation that followed, which rose and fell according to the whims of the boys now cuddled together on the overstuffed sofa, the twinkling lights of the large evergreen in the corner creating a private constellation in the firelit dimness. Christmas at the Potters' was nothing like Christmas with the Blacks, who acknowledged the holiday in the way they did so many other things: With a deliberation that was at once both slightly ostentatious and severe, all overworked house elves and enormous silver punch-bowls that had once belonged to some storied precursor who’d flavored his glühwein with his enemies' blood. Sirius had years of receiving gifts from his parents, and occasionally they'd even been things he wanted, but there had been nothing like Christmas with James' family, all three in ridiculous jumpers that Euphemia knitted and Fleamont loved and James wore with pride. Their tree, always a superb specimen from the woods around the Hollow, was always all but smothered beneath the tinsel and enchanted tapers and sugared gingerbread, and hidden among the branches were multiple ornaments shaped like the letter 'J,' each in a different style, one for every year of James' life.

When Sirius spent his first Christmas with the Potters, Euphemia presented him with a jumper of his own, and James' gift had been an elaborately wrought letter 'S' to hang next to the other ornaments on the tree. "I'll get you another one next year," James had promised, and Sirius had laughed and called James a sop and pretended to study the weave of his jumper to hide the gratitude in his eyes.

James had been as good as his word-- James always was, when it mattered, and Sirius mattered to him, even if James showed it through deeds and not quite through words. It was evident on that night, in the way that James could be quiet with Sirius, in the way that the boy who always carried himself as if he were centre-stage could drink his hot chocolate and speak only when he felt like it, not when he felt he had to. That these feelings were returned, nebulous and as-yet-undefined as they were, was obvious in the way that Sirius allowed himself to enjoy the sweetness of the hot chocolate and the milky flavour of the cream, childish tastes that he'd never been allowed to develop but which, like so many other things, he was able to experience through James' presence in his life. Sirius had been honed by his family until he'd become as bright and as sharp as a blade; but with James, with James alone, there was no need to bring that blade to bear. James could disarm Sirius without really having to try, perhaps because James so readily showed Sirius the vulnerabilities that James would otherwise never admit he possessed.

When the mugs were emptied and set on the coffee table, when the logs in the fireplace were burning low and neither James nor Sirius felt inclined to stir them to life, the clock on the mantel began to chime. “Midnight,” James observed, relaxing against Sirius and smiling into the firelight, his fingers twisting idly into the fabric of Sirius’ sleeve. “That makes it Christmas Day. Happy Christmas, Padfoot.”

“Happy Christmas, Prongs,” Sirius replied, his voice soft, his eyes softer. Sirius didn’t quite smile, still somewhat unused to the way that James could make him feel-- Like the first day back at Hogwarts with his friends, like Monty and Effie smiling at him over the breakfast table, such times with James were too precious for Sirius to take lightly, and he would never quite master James’ knack for cradling everything in a grin. Even so, if only for a moment, it seemed like the world beyond the front door had faded into a pleasantly indistinct haze, and all that really mattered was that cosy living room and that glowing fire and the quilt that smelt faintly of lavender, the lingering sweetness on his tongue and the warm, solid weight of James against him, as if that was how they were always meant to be. James’ breathing flattened and slowed as he drowsed, ever able to fall asleep with an ease that Sirius sometimes envied, and Sirius let himself follow suit, his murmured words almost lost beneath the steady crackling from the fireplace.

“You mean the world to me.”

[vg715]

Merry (belated) Christmas!

Yeah, for some reason I’ve got all my Christmas spirit NOW instead of a like a month ago. So here is the first of two very fluffy GO X-mas comics!

Happy New Year folks (although it’s probably too late to say that as well, but anyways)!

[deadlypastelcutieart]

An update:

How’s it going folks?

First off happy belated new years and merry belated christmas! 😅

I do apoligize for being silent for the past few days and releasing the christmas and new years art very late. I haven’t been feeling the best during this time despite doing some fun things on christmas. But don’t worry folks! Im perfectly okay after all of that.

Next thing, I have now gave my personal and art blog here a new make over! And I even updated my meet the artist sheet! I really need to update that since now im 24 and Im going to have to change a bit of it when I turn 25 this year. But I think this one is good! ^ ^

And, I recently got a new phone for chirstmas! Which thank god! I can do polls here now as I wasn’t able to because my old phone wasn’t updated and I couldn’t update it due to storage but at least for a while this new phone is better and has bigger storage at least! So I’ll be making some polls from time to time here. :)

So anyways, Got lots of things planned in store for 2025 and maybe make some new socials to post art more! I do hope this year will be an improvment for me. And hope there will be better things to look forward to this year.

Again, thank you all for your continued support and look forward to whats to come this year! ^ ^

-Deadly

[somefoxwithahat]

Soll, just eyed Tomy with annoyance and stared at him for a second or two. And just scoff and smile while return the salute to Tomy. And he spoken softly.

"You know, Tomy. You didn't needed to shout my former ranking within the New L'manberg alright? And besides that country is destroyed and disbanded which means your respecting and saluting on a dead rank."

Tomy just giggle as he smiled. And replied by.

"Yeah, but you love the formation, salute and respect you earned with that title right dad?"

Soll, just scoffed as he seated on a stoll next to his adopted son as Tomy also seated back on his stoll he formerly seated with.

"That depends on perspective, young man. While my rank earns me clout and respect. It also comes with own enemies within the ranks. But lets not delve on the past. We're here to witness you drinking your first alcohol as a person. Are you excited Tomy?"

Tomy just eyed his dad silently, as he slowly sip on his cup of root beer. And spoken.

"Honestly, excited and nervous i guess. It feels like a rite of passage of being an adult. Or something." Tomy reasoned as he gently put the cup of root beer on the table.

Soll, just nodded as he replied to Tomy.

"I know that feeling, son. Especially when i was involved on underage drinking with my friends, well... Traitor and snake of a friends. My father isn't on my presence while growing up ya know. Busying himself on divulging on gambling and short-fuse pleasuring. So that's why I'm here to guide you as much as possibly on life. While i still breath ya know."

Soll replied, as memories of his childhood and teenage years flashed before his eyes. It taste ash within his mouth. As those painful memories resurfaced.

But just shake his head and try to distract himself. And he saw the fox hybrid standing behind the bar counter. And he spoken with gentle and an aura of authority.

"You're the bartender on this counter correct? What is your best recommendation for folks like me?" Soll gently spoken, as Tomy continued on munching on the potato chips while also sneaking glances at Fundy the bartender waiting for their respond.

(Hello, I'm glad your alright, also happy belated Merry christmas and Happy New year to you.)

Fundy watched as the two had their... family moment, unsure of how to act or respond. Although, they did have to stifle a laugh when Soll referred to his fame as "clout." He soon straightened up however when he began mentioning his childhood trauma, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two in confusion. ... What the fuck should they do right now..? Should they do something- They feel like they should do something- Oh- Oh shit they were staring at him- Fuck fuck toon back in damnit-

He cleared his throat as he listened to him speak, nodding before speaking himself, "Ah- I- Yes. Yes sir. For you I'd.. reccomend a.. perhaps an old fashioned?" He offered.

[risustravelogue]

merry super belated christmas and (soon, in 2.5 hours at my timezone) happy new year folks 💕

sorry for being inactive this past month, my bedroom/office/workshop's AC was broken and I didn't have much privacy with me taking refuge in my sisters' bedroom. plus, I had to work and game with my work laptop, thus no writing/drawing, haha. the good news is it was repaired a few days ago and I'm back in my habitat now 😎

and thank you. thank you so much for supporting me throughout 2024. here's to a great 2025 for us all! 🥂

[storyxonline]

The Pretenders Free on Kindle!

Free on Amazon Dec 26-30, 2019 Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, folks! The Pretenders ebook will be free on Amazon for five consecutive days from December 26-30, 2019, starting and ending at midnight Pacific time! ‘Tis a belated Christmas present or early New Year’s gift for fans of historical romance and friends-to-lovers tales. Enjoy and happy holidays! #Pretenders #Free #Kindle

[diabolicalchainsaws]

I FORGOT TO POST THIS HERE

Ah well shoot, may ye all have a merry period of time surrounding the assumed anniversary of the exit from the fetal stage of human development experienced by Jesus Christ

[ashagarusinquisition]

...Looks like I’ve missed yet another holiday. But it’s ok.

One can still enjoy oneself in the cold and gentle snow x3 

[lemmetreatya]

pairing: reiner x black!fem reader

word count: 5.1k

content: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, degrading language, size kink, backshots, m!penetration, creampie, breeding kink

Merry Belated Christmas everyone!! Hope everyone has had a sliver of something nice this holiday season — If not yet, then let this fic be it! This piece is part of the Hey! You! Rent is Due! series that I’m currently writing on AO3. You can definitely read this without reading any of the prior stories but if you want more of these two shenanigans, you can read the stuff over there (and advisably after the 1st fic but before the 2nd!!). Enjoy 🫶🏾

Christmas was a rather difficult time for Reiner. 

Having always spent them with just him and Karina dwindled the experience over the years and turned the holiday sour for him.

Not like Karina didn’t attempt to make them special; she absolutely tried her best to make young Reiner the warmest meals and bow the cutest few presents — but the Christmas’ he watched on TV and heard from his friends just didn’t match up with the ones he lived, hence the mild distaste towards it. 

However, now that he was currently infatuated with you and had you as the every figment of his daydream thoughts, Christmas was sounding like a better concept than it did most years. 

“You doing anything over the Christmas period?” 

Reiner was currently posted up within your small kitchenette, the small of his back pressed against the countertop as he watched you cook — half an orange segment occupying his hands. 

“Not really.” You neutrally answered. 

“How come?” 

Taking in a deep breath, you continued to season the food. You shook a shake of cardamom into the pan before answering the man. 

“I’d normally spend it with my folks but the family all live kinda far out and scattered everywhere. Plus even if they were to fly in, most flights get cancelled this time of the year anyway so it probably won’t be possible.” You said, your focus still occupied on sautéing food.

The blonde popped an orange piece into his mouth but moved off the counter to stand behind you. 

“So you’ll be spending it alone?” 

You shrugged before briefly glancing up at him. 

“I guess so, yeah.” 

Reiner hummed in thought. 

Even he, who wasn’t the biggest Christmas fan, felt a twinge in his heart at the fact that you were going to spend it alone. He definitely knows how holidays can bring about a cloud of lonely melancholy and so he really did feel compelled at your circumstance. 

Reiner placed a singular orange slice in front of your mouth and so you took the initiative to lean forwards and receive the fruit from his hand. Reiner then put the last few in his own mouth before snaking his arms around your waist. As soon as he stood over you, a heavy whaft of steam from the food softly billowed over his face. 

“I would really like to spend Christmas with you. If family was visiting at least then my mother would be distracted enough for me to slip out.” 

Swallowing the orange in your mouth and then shaking your head, you made a noise of alarmed surprise. 

“Nope. Don’t even think about that. As much as I’d love to see you, it’d be too risky.”

“But you won’t be spending it with anyone.” He said a lot more softly. 

You could only pout at how Reiner’s concern touched your heart. Even without the two of you being in a relationship, he still held you in high consideration and treated you well. 

“I know, and I’m grateful that you’re thinking about me but there’s nothing we can do about it, Rei. It’s not like I could come see you or you me. It’s just how things have turned out this year.” 

The man didn’t say much else. You can tell he was pondering your thoughts but the last thing you wanted him to feel for you was sympathy. Slightly leaning into him, you pressed your head against the expanse of his chest. 

You didn’t want him thinking about this too hard. 

“It’s fine Rei, really. It won’t be too bad. I can finally just have a relaxing day to myself. Make myself a mini roast, call a few friends and family or maybe even watch a service online, we’ll see.” 

Even if he didn’t agree with the outcome, you raised a valid point. It’s not like he could invite you round to his; Karina was still in the unknown about the two of you's ‘relationship’ and Christmas was probably not the best time to reveal to his mother that he was fucking her tenant. 

He could try sneaking out and pay you a quick visit but that’d mean leaving his mother alone for a while and the last thing he’d want her to feel is abandonment on Christmas.

The only thing Reiner could think to do was buy you a gift — Which is practically a no brainer concerning that’s all he ever seems to know how to do when it comes to pleasing you. Still, the man understands the magic of Christmas is usually accounted for on the day itself so if he intended to do this somewhat right then he needed to think of something innovative. 

Bending down to kiss the smooth skin of one of your exposed shoulders, Reiner rubbed his hand down your arm as he echoed your last statement. 

“Yeah…I guess we will see.” 

Christmas day rolled around and as predicted, nothing too fancy happened for you. 

You got dressed into your favourite jumper and pleated skirt, video called a few family and friends, had your mini version of a Christmas dinner and even sat through an hour of an online Christmas service. You’d made what you could out of the day and you were okay with that. Nothing too exciting. 

That was, until it had just gone past six and you had an unexpected knock at your door. 

Opening up, you were met with absolutely the last faces you thought you’d see today. 

“Merry Christmas!”

“Me—Merry…Christmas? Wait, Karina, what are you doing here?”

There in your doorway stood none other than your landlord Karina, and behind her, her son Reiner. The two stood there with wide smiling faces. 

“Oh, me and Reiner just took a gamble and thought we’d pay you a visit for the holidays. Didn’t want you spending it alone or anything if that was the case so we popped round! Sorry for not notifying you beforehand.” 

You watched as the woman invited herself in, her son lagging behind her. You quickly glanced backwards at Karina before turning round to face Reiner who was still standing in the doorway. 

You mouthed ‘what are you doing here?!’ in mild panic but the blonde only chuckled as he handed you a small cheap bag.

“Merry Christmas to you too! I hope Christmas day isn’t too bad of a time to check up on that leaky pipe you emailed me about?” He said in a much louder but warning tone. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. 

A leaky pipe was definitely not an issue you mentioned to the man. Especially since he’d already come round for the ‘bathroom maintenance’ he forgot last time. But per his blown eyes and strained expression, you started to understand what was going on. 

Reiner must have used the excuse of a maintenance job to pay you a visit without making it suspicious. That must have been the only way he could think of how to come and see you on Christmas without it looking suspicious. 

With an air of amusement, you took the bag from him, your smile coy. 

“Thank you so much for the gift. If I had known you were coming, I would have brought you something too.” 

Slightly opening the gift bag, you could make out a card and a small bag of chocolate. A standard and inauspicious gift for a landowner to give to their tenant — Definitely not Reiner’s style. 

It was almost as if the man knew the very thing you were thinking regarding he slightly bent himself down to your height to whisper in your ear. 

“This is from the both of us. You’re getting your real present from me in a bit.” Reiner quickly pecked your lips with a sweet kiss, a small squeal leaving your mouth at his boldness. 

As he pulled away and walked further inside, Karina turned around, just about missing your risky displays of affection with a face displaying mild concern. 

“Reiner told me you had a leaky pipe in the bathroom? I know it may seem a bit strange but we thought we might at least come round and fix it today, seeing as it’s Christmas and all. I really do hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience.”

Shaking your head, you dispelled her concerns. 

“No, no, not at all, Karina. In fact I’m grateful you thought of me at such a time. Is Christmas usually busy for you?” You tried to make small talk as you proceeded to shut the door behind you and placed the gift down on the small table near the entrance. 

Karina gave you a complicated look. 

“Rarely ever. Unless family are in town it’s usually just me and Rei so I guess it’s nice we get to see another face.” 

With a polite smile, you had the intention to answer but before you could, Reiner spoke up.

“Okay, I’m gonna go check on that plumping work.” 

There was a hurried edge to the man’s voice, a sense of desperate urgency as he gravitated towards your bedroom door. 

Both you and Karina looked towards Reiner, unsure of what he was rushing for but you didn’t have to wonder for long concerning he raised his eyebrows at you. You however didn’t miss the slight smile on his face. 

“Could you show me where the problem is?” He reiterated in your direction. 

It took a few seconds for you to realise what he was hinting at but once the penny dropped, your face lit up. 

“Yes! The leaky pipe! Sure, sure.” 

You took a few steps in the direction of your bedroom but stopped mid way. Remembering you had more than just one guest, you looked back towards your landlord. You smiled sweetly at the blonde woman who was currently seated on your couch. 

“Karina. Please, make yourself comfortable. We won’t be long!” You mused. 

Like you had to tell her. Karina was already enamoured with the Christmas special that was being played on the TV to pay you much attention. 

“Sure, dearest.” She absentely said, her concentration fixed to the screen. 

As you turned back to the direction of your room, you realised that the door was now wide open but Reiner was nowhere in sight. Assuming he had already invited himself into your ensuite, you walked into your room unaware. 

However, before you could even step properly into the room, your bedroom door had shut behind you and a pair of large yet familiar hands tied themselves around your waists. 

With a gleeful smile, you turned around within Reiner’s arms, your first port-of-call being to finally get your full kiss from the man. 

“Hey.” 

Reiner mumbled into the kiss as he lightly pushed your body against the wall. There was no delay in affection as he kissed you back with just as much vigour. 

“Hey.” You muffled back. 

“Missed you.”

“Saw me two days ago.”

“Still wan’ad to come.”

“Didn’t have to.” You mewled hungrily into the kiss. 

“But I wanted to.” He retorted. 

Your arms reached upwards to cling around the blonde’s neck as his hands came down to hook underneath your ass and lift one of your legs around his hip. 

“I really wanted to see you. So, so bad.” He muttered into your lips but more to himself. 

A hum left your throat to show you understood. 

Reiner’s intentions with you were no secret as you could feel the hard pressing of his dick print against your legs. However, this was such an awkward time to do anything inherently sexual, especially concerning it wasn’t just you two in the apartment. 

Momentarily gaining a period of common sense, you caressed the short hairs on the back of Reiner’s neck before voicing your distress. 

“Reiner, we can’t. Your mother is literally next door and the walls in here aren’t the thickest.” You shortly inhaled as the man began to eagerly kiss some of the sensitive skin of your neck. 

Reiner’s hands raised underneath your skirt as he fondled the fat of your ass. Giving it a squeeze, he simultaneously took a deep breath, clearly enjoying the scented perfume you had used previously that morning.

“Well you’re just gonna have to keep it down, aren’t you?” He eventually replied back. 

A scandalous gasp left your throat as Reiner’s hands slid downwards and squeezed at your lips through your underwear. 

“I-I don’t know if I can do that.” You struggled to say as you rolled your head against your bedroom wall. 

Even though you wanted to be the voice of reason, Reiner’s eagerness for you was more convincing. As the blonde slipped the cotton of your panties to the side, he lightly delved his fingers past your pussy lips and fondled with the gathering slick. At the cool touch, your eyes flickered out of sync. After only a handful of encounters, he was already becoming well versed in knowing what actions turned you on the easiest. 

“C’mon. Promise me.” He cooed. 

A struggling breath of hot air left your mouth. You kept your hand on Reiner’s head to keep his face within the crook of your neck. You didn’t want him to see how blissed out you already were. 

“Rei…” You breathed. The man made a throaty sound in initial reply. 

“I said, promise me.” 

You heard him, loud and clear, but the sensation of Reiner lightly exploring his fingers within the warm flesh of your pussy, and the glittering brushes over your clit just felt too good. How could you promise him silence when you could already feel your throat wanting to open up with wanton joy?! 

Still, Reiner was adamant you made that adjustment and you only realised that once he paused the movements he was kneading into your cunt. On instinct, you tried to rub yourself down onto the man’s fingers. 

“Nu uh, Not until you promise me, baby. You’ve got to promise that you’ll keep it down.” 

“But Reiner…”

You didn’t even get to finish your plea. Reiner tutted as he pulled his hand away from your cunt whilst simultaneously pulling his head up to give you a stern look. 

This was just ridiculous! Wasn’t it him who couldn’t stay away from you in the first place? So desperate that he risked bringing his mother, your landlord, to his sneaky link with him?! Why was he now apprehending you from what you rightfully deserved?

With a whine and a flung back head against the wall, you had no choice but to give in. 

“Okay! Okay, I promise!” You hissed. 

“Good girl.” 

Reiner didn’t bring his fingers back towards your already dribbling pussy. Instead, he brought them up towards his own lips and suckled on his glistening fingers, his eyes not leaving yours. 

You felt a heat pool to your lower regions as a second heartbeat developed. 

For such a serious looking man, Reiner definitely knew how to work his way around that physical presumption. However, looking past his stoic expression, you could tell that even he was desperate to get a taste of you. 

Every mask eventually cracked. 

With a striking boldness, you removed Reiner’s fingers from his mouth, a slick line of saliva connecting the two before you erased it with your own lips and kissed him. This time you did so without apprehension and ground yourself forward into him and Reiner’s hand firmly gripped your leg around his waist again but not without pouring a hungry growl into you first. 

“I need to be inside of you.”

Everything was always messy with the two of you. You’ve only fucked four times before now but one thing you both discovered is that there was barely any room for subtlety. 

“Then fuck me, Reiner.” Your hand came down to cup at the growing length within his jeans. “Like honestly, just do it already.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Letting go of you, Reiner turned you around before splaying his large hand over the expanse of your jumper and bending you over. There was no time wasted as he lifted the bottom of your skirt upwards and then shucked down your damp panties, letting the material pool by your inner knees.

Automatically your hands splayed out in front of you as you leaned them onto the wall to support yourself, your cheek squishing against the surface. Even from where you were, you could hear the jingles and words that played from the TV in the living room. 

You couldn’t help but wander how much Karina could hear from her position.

The shuckling of Reiner’s belt clanked from behind you.  

“You want me to prep or should you?” He asked. 

“Already done.” 

There was a hesitation in Reiner’s actions as he gave you a perplexed look. Him visiting you today was clearly a surprise to you and not one he’d previously hinted at. And Reiner himself was a man who always liked to be prepared, but even this was beyond his skill set. 

Slightly turning your head round, you questioned the hold up with a face of confusion. 

“You’re saying you’ve already prepped yourself?” Reiner reiterated. 

“Yeah.”

Reiner blinked thrice at your reply, his face seemingly blank but you had come to realise that that specific face was one of immense and thorough thinking. 

With a seductive laugh, you reached your hand over your ass to innocuously gape open your pussy with only two your fingers, displaying the inner pretty pink flesh for Reiner to see in all its glory. 

“Why you so surprised, Reiner? What, you never had a bit of a Christmas jerk before? Played with any toys on the day of new gifts?” 

Like the attraction to a siren call, Reiner found himself plunging two fingers inside of your second heart before he even realised what was doing. A guttural moan slipped from your mouth but you quickly had to shut it due to the promise you made to Reiner and the company on the other side of the wall. 

“Fuck.” The blonde whispered as his fingers etched out the expanded blueprint of your walls. 

You couldn’t help but to continue looking back at him with doey eyes. Even though your neck was starting to crane, the drunk look on Reiner’s face was all the more worth it. 

As the blonde bent his fingers upwards and pulled his fingers out, he brought forwards your natural nectar, the gel like honey once again staining his hands. 

“Oh, look at this perfect pussy of yours.” He said in a hush voice. “Already dribbling and crying for my cock to do some real damage to it, huh?”

And you knew he wasn’t lying because you could feel the slight press of his naked dick caress against your ass — He was stiffening by the second! It was clear Reiner wasn’t going to go easy on you just because his mother was in the other room. You eagerly pressed backwards into him as a desperate high-pitched whine left your throat but the man initially resisted. 

“Hold on. Patience.” He said. “God, you’re such a needy whore…” 

The curse left his mouth as he purposely brushed his dick over the slit of your cunt. The juicy nature of it made it easy for his helmet to slot pass the crevice, your hole already trying to suck him in.

“Please, Rei. I need you. Really need you to fill my whore pussy up.” You mumbled, finally letting your head turn and cheek naturally flatten against the wall. 

A hubristic hum left the blonde's throat. You could tell this scenario was all going to his head but you didn’t mind. As long as it meant you’d get a better fuck outta him, you didn’t mind. 

“I guess I could grant you at least one Christmas wish.” He chided. 

With ease, Reiner’s large hands came to split your ass cheeks apart, giving himself better access to your glistening pussy lips as he dutifully plunged his dick into you. It was evident the crunchy moan leaving his mouth at the introduction to your warmness was genuine. 

In mirror to him, a fluttering gasp spilled from your mouth but you instantly had to hold a hand over it to cover up the sound. You could already tell that the both of you were going to have an issue with keeping the noise down. 

But God, even with the amount of self stretching you had done earlier, nothing prepared you for the girthy taunt that Reiner’s big cock made as he sunk into you. It expanded you, pushed your limits. Yet, you took it like a champ and allowed him to split you open — your pussy swallowing him whole. 

As testament to how well you were accustomed to him, Reiner found it easy to calculate his pace and slowly pump himself in and out of your pussy.  

The sight of his length when he first pulled out of you almost melted his brain. The way your insides had already wet his girth after one plunge was insane! His dick, slick with one encounter of your honeyed cum, was drenched. 

“God, I missed this pussy so much.” 

He breathed as he took a hold of your hips and started to fasten the pace at which he pumped into you. 

If you were in a better mindset you would have cheekily reminded him how it hadn’t even been 48 hours since he last had you, but you couldn’t because you were currently squished up against the wall, your lips slack as you gurgled out inconsolable words of delight. 

Due to the force of his actions, Reiner had to keep raising your skirt over the small of your back as it kept falling down over your ass. In the end, he bunched up the cloth in his hand and held it against your back which ultimately messed up the pleats. Not like he cared — all it did was give him a better view of where the two of you connected. 

“Shit, if only you could see how well you were taking me. Saw how your slutty pussy easily eats my dick. Best Christmas gift I could ever receive.”

Reiner’s skin started to pat against your ass within a steady rhythm which caused light slapping sounds to play throughout the room. All you could do was let out small puffs of air, some of them accidentally coming out as kitten-like mewls. 

At that, Reiner grunted disapprovingly. 

“You know I usually love to hear you but remember the promise you made me, right? How we haven’t got the apartment all to ourselves at the moment?”

You attempted to nod but the movement seemed miscellaneous in comparison to the thrusts Reiner was bumping into you. 

Like you could even say anything in reply — the sensations dancing throughout your body were too great to fight against. All you could do was bite your bottom lip to try and stop yourself from letting out too much. 

If you didn’t know the blonde any better, you’d think this situation was turning him on. 

“Fuuuuck, fuck fuck.” 

All you could do was whine into the plaster wall, your hand coming up to permanently mask over your mouth as your moans were growing too great. 

“Mhm. Keep quiet for me, baby. You don’t wanna get caught. That’s the last thing we want, huh.” He panted. 

By now Reiner was slamming himself into you, his grip on your waist firm as he flung his own head backwards in pleasure. 

Everything was so loud. Reiner’s low moans, the slapping of your skin and even your body mutedly banged into the wall. There was no way Karina was sitting just over 8 feet away and wasn’t aware of what was going on — No chance! Nothing about what the both of you were doing was discreet but there was a small part of you that didn’t care. 

Maybe, just maybe, getting caught wasn’t so bad.

Even when you thought it couldn't get any better, Reiner had slightly altered his angle and suddenly your eyes were rolling into the back of your head. 

“Fuck, yes! Righ’ there, Rei. Righ there, righ’ there, righ’ thereeeee.” 

The way Reiner was hitting that gooey spot right inside of you with perfect precision was ludicrous. That thick cock of his just kept brushing over it again and again and again and again! 

“Ah, shit, baby. I’m close.” He mumbled.

Reiner’s strokes were so deliciously firm. He knew what he was doing as he chose to dig you out like this, your inner walls clenching around his girth. 

You hadn’t even time to register his impending release as your strength was too fucked to even hold yourself up as your body began to slide down the wall. 

As one of his arms came from underneath you to hold you up via your stomach, Reiner leaned forwards so that he could whisper his next words into your ear, his hips continuing to piston into your weeping hole. 

“Lemme give you…another Christmas gift, yeah? Lemme give you the gift of my seed. I’ll — fuck — I’ll pour my seed inside of you and…and fill up that empty womb of yours.”

By now you were merely reduced to a whimpering mess. There was no point trying to cover your mouth since you barely had any control over your body. 

“Pleaaase…pleaaase.” Was all you could muster  out. 

Reiner pumped a few more strokes into you, his pants heavy as he was still bent over your back, before his hips stuttered still. You felt the hot cumshots splurge your insides before you mentally realised Reiner had orgasmed. 

As the semen vandalised your insides, a creamy moan left your mouth as you could feel your womb being filled up. Pump after the pump, Reiner emptied his load into your stomach, the feeling so addictive as you could only dream yourself being stuffed more. 

Reiner on the other hand could only let his eyes roll as he leaked his white cum into your baby pink cunt. 

The both of you struggled to stay on your feet as you were so blacked out within your sexual bliss. With knees nearly buckling and heavy pants exchanging, you had both briefly forgotten that you weren’t home alone. 

“You okay?” Reiner asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

Briskly wiping your mouth and chin with the side of your hand, you nodded. 

“Yeah…yeah, I’m good.”

The feeling of Reiner pulling out was never your favourite thing to experience. Not only because the absence of his warmth was felt but more so because the gaping feeling his girth left was detrimental. 

A sharp ‘fuck’ left your mouth once Reiner had pulled out with a plop. He however found your reaction amusing. 

As you finally stood yourself up, you hadn’t even time to stretch out your back before you were spun around and pulled into a kiss. At first, you were uptight about the impromptu display of affection, but you couldn’t be displeased for long. It was safe to say you kissed Reiner back just as willingly. 

“Merry Christmas.” He mumbled into your kiss. It was almost mesmerising how you could still taste yourself on him, the wet muscle of his mouth addicting. 

“Merry Christmas to you too, asshole.” You chided back, unable to stop yourself from smiling into the kiss as you felt Reiner’s hand reach down beneath your skirt and languidly attempt to scoop his leaking cum back inside of you.  

The exchange between the both of you would have gone on for longer but unexpectedly, there was a knock on the door. 

Both you and Reiner froze, unsure whether you heard right. Exchanging looks, you both started to move away from each other in fear of being caught. It looks like you had let your guard down for too long as already, the door handle was pushing downwards.

You both gasped in shock, muted swears flying out of your mouths as you tried to pull yourselves together. As Reiner buckled up his jeans and you pulled your panties over your leaking cum-filled cunt, Karina entered the room. 

Peeping her head around the door with concern, the woman looked between the both of you. 

“Everything alright? It sounded tricky in here.” 

You felt your blood run cold. 

Did she know?!

To cover up your anxiety, you sweetly smiled at your landlord as you sat yourself down on your bed and squeezed your legs together — trying your best to stop the drizzling of Reiner’s cum down your legs. 

Unsure of how to answer, you looked towards her son. Luckily, the blonde man spoke up in the defence of you both. 

“Everything’s totally fine, Ma. Apparently the piping was situated around the walls of the bedroom too so I had to sort that out. Was a bit tough but we got there in the end. Might as well have been a Christmas miracle.” 

Seeing Reiner’s open expression, the lady invited herself more inside of your room. 

“Oh, well isn’t that wonderful?!” Karina clasped her hands together as her expression illuminated. 

You thought she would at least end the conversation there but she had instead turned to direct a question towards you. 

“By the way, I forgot to ask. How’s the job search going?! Your payments are all coming in okay so I’m assuming you’ve been able to find work?”

You heard Reiner clear his throat. 

“Ah, the job search, yes.” You briefly glanced in the blonde man’s direction, your legs clamping even tighter. 

That was another thing you were currently keeping from Karina. Not only were you and her son newly acquainted fuckbuddies, but Reiner has ever so kindly decided to pay your rent in the time being. 

He doesn’t even know why he ended up agreeing to it, but something about you made Reiner feel the need to offer the helping hand. 

“The redundancy from my old place was really generous so I’m good for a while but I still haven’t been able to find anything yet.” You lied, your skin feeling itchy with sweat. 

Karina gave an understanding nod.

“That sounds plausible but hopefully you find a new occupation soon. You’re a smart girl, you should be able to get somewhere. Or maybe a sugar daddy — either one.” 

Your face made an exclamatory expression at her words. Not having expected her to say that you could only hide your mouth behind your hand. 

Reiner on the other hand gave a verbal chide, his cheeks reddening. 

“I—Ma!”

“What? I’m only being honest. This is girl stuff. She knows what I’m talking about.” 

Karina gave you a light hearted wink, as if to be conveying a secret girl code that Reiner wasn’t in the know about, but all you could do was awkwardly laugh back as you fidgeted on top of your duvet — Reiner’s cum now staining your panties. 

My, oh my. If only your landlord knew. 

[viola--lancaster]

Location: The Heights Bistro 

Tagging: @ofsyzygies​

“It’s supposed to be used for pressing flowers. Something told me you would like that and I thought the black cover was a nice touch.” Viola had just been getting the chance to give Noa the Christmas present she had gotten for her and was sure she was grinning like a goof as she watched her unwrap it. There was also a quill pen, a sweet and corny christmas card and viola’s favorite book of adrienne rich poems. “it’s just a little something. made me think of you. i read that book when i was in college and loved it, not sure if poetry is your thing but i think you’ll like it.” viola wasn’t unaware of how she had built a life where there were all these young folks around town she had taken into her circle. usually it was because she saw a lot of herself and knew all too well what it was like to have an unreliable or even worse, unlovable adult in your life. a childhood without care and tenderness was really not a childhood at all. “Anyway, Merry belated Christmas, I hope you like it. Lunch is on me today too. How was your week? Any annoying old ladies try to pinch your cheeks at church this Sunday?”

[ocarina-of-memes]

Hey folks, with the 'tumblr tag ios blocked post' debacle happening rn, im going to have to do an overhaul of my tagging system. Considering every single post ive made myself has the tag "m!ne" in it and another good chunk use "m!sc" and both are blocked, im gonna have to go through and revise them... again. This is a frusterating setback and will take some time, but we'll get there. Im too stubborn (and hate twitter) too much to leave this shithole now.

Hang in there all & merry belated Christmas to those who celebrate!

[witchykincare]

Belated happy solstice folks, and early new year's! (And merry christmas to anyone who celebrates it.)

Gonna be taking a quick break for the holidays but requests will stay open! I'll be back after the new year!

[firewoodfigs]

I'm a week late, but I was tagged by @rizah @jeanhaavoc @later-slayer @bringingglory @priscilla-dm @meridianheroine @thatisadamnfinecupofcoffee and @fullmetal-hellmouthchemist to do this (ty for the tags friends!!! ilyall <3) and I present to you 22 minutes of my unhinged rambling. 10/10 would not recommend using earphones because I think my voice got progressively louder the more I talked about royai LOLOL 

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1. Who are you and how do you pronounce your username? 2. Where are you from? (okay to not answer!!) 3. Give us a fun fact about yourself 4. What got you through 2020? 5. What's your favourite medium of Fullmetal Alchemist (Manga, 03, Brotherhood, Live Action) 6. How did you discover Fullmetal Alchemist? 7. Do you create any Fullmetal Alchemist content? 8. What's your favourite scene/arc in the series? 9. Where would you wanna travel to in Amestris? 10. What's a favourite headcanon? (crack is allowed and encouraged!!) 11. What are some of your favourite tropes in fan-created Fullmetal Alchemist content? 12. Give us your unpopular Fullmetal Alchemist opinion 13. What kind of alchemist would you be? Would you enrol in the State Alchemy Program? 14. What's your favourite quote from the series? 

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I feel like this has made its rounds quite a fair bit, so idk who hasn’t already been tagged, but IF YOU WANNA DO IT GO AHEAD AND SAY I TAGGED YOU <3 merry (belated) Christmas folks!!! 

[snowbellewells]

“Over the Realms and Through the Woods, to Arendelle We Go”

A @cssecretsanta2k19​ gift for @xhookswenchx​

“Over the Realms and Through the Woods, to Arendelle We Go”

By: @snowbellewells​

This is my belated @cssecretsanta2k19​ gift for @xhookswenchx​ ~ and I truly am sorry for making you wait extra days, Lovely. It was such a busy December, then I traveled home, had family engagements, and so on.  But talking with you and learning different things about the show and the holidays that you enjoyed, put this idea in my head early. I just needed the time to write it down.  I have very much enjoyed being your Secret Santa.  I hope that your Christmas was Merry, that you will have a Happy and Blessed New Year. Please enjoy this story gift just for you!

Summary: Emma and Killian take their crew on a holiday road trip to visit old friends and make new Christmas memories…   A CS canon divergent in which the realms have been joined as they were in Season 7’s finale, but Henry has not left the Land Without Magic as he did in Season 7.  I always imagined him going out into the non-magical world for college, to write books, and so on (at least once it became clear they weren’t all going to make a permanent move back to the Enchanted Forest).  So for the purposes of this fic, he is home for the holidays from college, and Emma and Killian also have two little ones of their own. I used the daughter of my fictional invention, Morgan Ruth Jones, rather than Hope.  She’s appeared in some of my other fics, and I’m kinda attached to her.  I’ve gathered you enjoy original CS kids in your writing and reading as well, so I hope you won’t mind that liberty taken. I know that Westley Graham is not as completely original as I thought it was when I dreamed it up, but I love it too (especially since the show gave us so many Liams to keep track of already without naming a son of Emma and Killian’s Liam David as I once would have done).  Westley for the character in “Princess Bride” (‘As you wish’ makes that seem appropriate) and Graham for the hero they should have been naming baby boys after in canon.  You also said you really enjoyed the “Frozen” characters in 4a, so I have tried to incorporate them - and found it to be a fun new character writing stretch.  I truly do hope you will find this fun to read!

*************

“Papa, how much longer?” a tiny voice piped up from the backseat over Killian and Emma Jones’ shoulders with the wheedling tone only a four-year-old’s impatience could muster. “Are we almost there?”

Emma glanced over at her husband with bland exasperation and humor mixed together before swiveling in her seat as much as possible to look back at their daughter Morgan where she sat in her car seat behind Killian, idly alternating between swinging her feet and singing little nonsense songs she made up for herself, staring out the window at the changing scenery as they traveled from one united realm to another, heading ever steadily north toward Arendelle to visit Elsa, Anna, Kristoff, and Morgan’s best friend Sonja, Princess Anna and her husband’s little girl.

Henry, comfortably on his long winter break from his senior year at Boudoin College, had his nose buried in a detective whodunit, and though he was usually quite patient with his much-younger sister, he seemed to be craving some reading time to himself that Emma was willing to humor. She would like to keep them both fairly quiet so that Westley Graham, their youngest at just barely five months, didn’t wake up quite yet from where he was peacefully sleeping in his own backward-facing car seat between his two siblings and where Emma could reach him if needed.

Killian, for his part, chuckled indulgently, his sparkling blue gaze sliding back over to return Emma’s look before answering his little girl, seeming infinitely patient and making Emma love him even more all over again “We are getting closer, little Love,” he assured calmly. “You’ve been very good - and we should be there within the hour now.”

For a moment, Morgan merely nodded and hummed to herself in satisfaction as she watched the scenery pass by out the window. Once they had left Storybrooke behind, the buildings had given way to the forest, thicker and more wild as they had passed through the land of Emma’s birthright rule - the Enchanted Forest. Since then, the forest had thinned out, and slowly the flatter land became foothills, which then turned into snow capped mountains - something which really did seem to almost sparkle before their eyes - not to mention the imaginative view of a toddler. But it wasn’t long before she piped up again, still obviously a bit impatient and unable to hold it in. “Papa? Can you sing a song? … Please?”

Emma snort-laughed at the way her husband’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, not expecting that particular request if his expression could be any indication. Shaking his head, he admitted defeat rather easily for a once-fearsome pirate of the Seven Seas, especially when she playfully jostled his shoulder, egging Morgan on and adding the she would like to hear him as well.

It wasn’t long before Killian’s clear, strong voice was ringing out within the walls of their newer smallish SUV, having left the Bug at home in favorite of more passenger leg room and space for the wealth of presents they were bringing along, both from their immediate family and her parents and other Storybrooke folks who had come to know the Arendellian visitors when they were in the Land Without Magic some years back. The tune her pirate had selected was a rollicking sea shanty - one of their daughter’s favorites - that he and his crew had once sung on the Jolly Roger many years ago as they circled the waters of Neverland endlessly. His song and its playful, raucous melody seemed practically bouncing around the interior of the vehicle, swaying with the rolling buoyancy of its rhythm and pulling Henry from his reading to grin at the song he had heard countless times before. Thankfully Westley didn’t seem in the least disturbed, sleeping right through the impromptu serenade, and Morgan was giggling and clapping her little hands along with her papa’s song. Emma soon found herself singing along as well, watching her family in their joyous uproar, and marveling at the reality that this was the sort of cozy Christmas journey she could have now.

Killian seemed so into his song, and his children’s entertainment, that Emma couldn’t help checking to be certain he was still paying attention to the road ahead. It hadn’t really been until the last couple of years that Killian had begun to take over some driving duties for them on longer trips; having learned to drive capably well before that, but never fully becoming comfortable with - or trusting - their “horseless death traps”, as he often called them. Modern automobiles still seemed smoky, loud, and entirely too unpredictable to a person long used to ships on the sea or riding horseback and in carriages - not to mention one whose first experience with them had been being run down on the road and seriously injured.

All the same, he shot her a look of exaggerated affront as he finished singing, waggling those wildly expressive eyebrows of his at her and pressing his hooked arm to his chest in further drama. “Honestly, Wife? Don’t you trust me more than that by now?” Taking his hook from where it covered his heart, he gestured out the window to indicate the lane beside them. “I may not be as old a hand at driving as most, but I won’t drive us under a semi trailer like that Griswold fellow on the magic box.”

It was Henry who snorted his laughter then, at the reference to National Lampoon’s which they had watched the night before, prior to setting off on their journey. Shaking his head at his stepdad’s odd way of reassuring him, and humored in spite of himself, Henry placed a marker in his book and more fully joined their antics, now that they were drawing nearer to their friend’s kingdom anyway. Danger and adventure, or just taking a family trip; be it Christmas or some random everyday in between, there was never a dull moment with their little crew.

~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~

When they entered the Arendelle borders and pulled up to the palace’s front gates, within 45 minutes’ time just as Killian had promised Morgan, the sense of awed anticipation settled over all of them, the air inside the car going quiet at the stunning beauty that met their eyes. Somewhere within the last half hour or so, light flurries of snow had begun to fall around them, looping and twirling through the slowly purpling sky as afternoon inched closer to evening. The ground had already been covered in a picturesque light dusting of white, but it was growing deeper as the additional fluffy flakes continued.

Thankfully, ice didn’t seem to be a part of this particular snowy scene; the roads had remained safely passable and they had made good time. Four uniformed guards two on either side of the wide, silvery sparkling arch and gates of the front entrance to the Queen’s castle and grounds, bowed respectfully as the passageway opened for them. Emma had spoken to her dear friend via magic mirror that morning before they set out, and their arrival had clearly been anticipated.

Despite having been there several times before by that point, all over them sat in openmouthed adoration that overcame them for a few breathless instants. The setting sun hit the gate and front of the castle, sending glitter and sparks of light out to dazzle their eyes. It was as if the whole structure were indeed beautifully coated in ice - and yet there was none of the frigid austerity one might once have feared. Queen Elsa of Arendelle has long since found her equilibrium, allowing her the self-acceptance and open understanding to balance the cold with genuine warmth. She learned to love every part of herself - including her powers - just as she had once helped Emma to do, and as Killian had reminded her ever since.

Their vehicle had barely parked, and they were just stepping out and stretching their tired limbs when they heard familiar voices calling their names, a childish squeal of delight yelping Morgan’s in particular, the sound of several pairs of feet hurrying over freshly fallen snow (well, feet and one set of reindeer hooves) and then they were engulfed in a flurry of hugs and handshakes by the royal family themselves. Anna was predictably firing questions at them as quickly as she could voice them, about their trips, the rest of their family, Belle and the library, without even allowing them time to answer. Kristoff was shaking Killian’s hand and accepting baggage and gift wrapped boxes to lead them inside. Sven snuffled around Henry’s pockets and Morgan’s hair seeking out carrots and other treats as well as providing his own animal greeting. But through the melee, Elsa pressed through to wrap Emma in a fiercely tight hug for several long moments. When she did pull back, it was with a watery smile and unshed tears in her eyes to match those which started in Emma’s.

“I’m so glad all of you have come,” she stated fervently, that sweet, melodious voice trembling with sincerity beyond its usual poise. “Come in, come in.  We’ll get you warm and settled, then we can get caught up.”

Emma nodded, pressing the queen’s hand tightly in her own, before turning to grab more luggage and unfasten Westley from his car seat to do as Elsa suggested.

“Let me help you,” her friend offered, holding out her arms to take the still-sleepy child so Emma could reach the suitcase behind. “May I?”

Emma didn’t hesitate for even a second, easily passing her just-barely-stirring-to-wakefulness infant into her friend’s arms, moving her hand gently so Elsa could cradle Westley’s head and crooning lowly to him until he settled again, rooting deeper into the young queen’s arms as a pleased and rosy smile pinked her cheeks.

Throwing a surreptitious glance over to Killian, only to find him watching her with a comforting smile that already knew where her mind had gone and wished he could undo the old hurt, Emma shook her head to clear the memory as best she could and send her husband a small grin as reassurance that she would be fine. As much as she had tried to banish the moment from her mind, and as much as the sharpest stinging slap of betrayal had faded, Emma still saw her own mother pulling little Neal away from her, protectively fearing her magic and not letting Emma hold her younger brother. Intellectually, Emma knew her mother loved her, magic or no, realized that the knee-jerk reaction had not been aimed to hurt her… and yet… it had.

Watching Elsa as various emotions flitted across her face while cradling her friend’s youngest in her arms, gazing down at the drowsy babe adoringly, Emma knew Elsa had felt that same fear and suspicion she had, and that perhaps Elsa had almost resignedly expected her request to be denied, knew that parental protectiveness all too well, and had been thrilled when she was granted trust instead.

Little Westley Graham did nothing more than flutter his eyelids briefly without fully rousing and gave a slight coo of contentment as the Queen bowed her head to press a light kiss to the top of his downy, sandy-colored hair. “Come on then everyone,” she suggested cheerfully, looking as merry and confident as they had ever seen her and leaving Emma blessedly assured of her friend’s happiness.  “There’s hot chocolate with plenty of marshmallows in the large sitting room.”

She led the way, with Killian, Henry, and Kristoff bringing up the rear to make sure no overexcited little girls, snowmen, or reindeer were left behind. It didn’t take long to find their luggage placed in their rooms, their coats and snow boots shucked off, and all of them seated comfortably scattered around the large open room full of soft chairs and sofas, a roaring fire in the hearth at one end, and plates of toast and jam, cookies, doughnuts, scones and a whole pot of rich hot chocolate with marshmallows set out for the taking.

Conversation hummed warmly throughout the room as the kids played; Henry showing Olaf, Sonja, and his little sister how to make a chain of snow angels for the tree while the four adults caught up on all that had happened since they were last together. Westley had woken up, but to everyone’s surprise, the little boy had not cried or fussed for his mother, and so Elsa still held him gladly. His guileless blue eyes, the mirrored hue of his pirate father’s, blinked up at her curiously, looked more enthralled that concerned by the less familiar person holding him. One pudgy little hand unclenched to reach up toward her almost startlingly white braid and wrapped around the end of it, tugging gently with his tiny fist, and burbling happily as he did.

Elsa practically giggled, a musical, enchanting sound that the rest of them had rarely heard, and a light carefree look graced her face beautifully. “You really are quite a sweetheart, aren’t you?” she whispered to the little one softly.

She did eventually hand Westley back to Emma when he began to wiggle and wanted to eat. Once Emma returned with him after his feeding, she found the Queen of Arendelle seated cross-legged on the floor with Morgan and her niece watching wide-eyed beside her as Elsa effortlessly shaped and reshaped whorls and twists of ice into glittering ornaments she handed them to place on a tree they had left bare for that very entertainment. The girls let out little ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ of excitement and surprise with each shape that seemed to bloom from Elsa’s hands into thin air. Each new creation brough exclamations of delight, and the two children then ran to their papas at the tree to lift them up to place them high on the branches, then hurried back to see what ‘Auntie Elsa’ would create next.

As the decorating eventually wound down, the two little whirlwinds huffing and puffing from all their trips back and forth over the length of the room, and Elsa lightly chuckling at their theatrics, Killian came to sit near them as well, gathering Morgan into his lap and nodding encouraging at Sonja until she scooted up close to his side as well. Soon he was telling them a story of the first time he saw snow fall at sea as a young lad. He remembered how it looked trailing down to rest on nearly frozen arctic water, where their captain had unwisely taken them too far north for the season.

He was relating how his older brother Liam had distracted him by encouraging his wonder at the beauty of the sight. Killian himself had not realized until much later - a similar instance on his own ship facing the very real danger of ice floes in the water and the precarious travel a ship must make in the depths of winter driving the memory home - just how much danger they had been in that night as he had simply marveled at what seemed to his young mind cold falling stars of sparkling light. “He said each one was unique - no other could exactly take the place of the one before. Like people, Liam said they were…” Killian nearly whispered this last over the sudden lump in his throat, seemingly lost in another time and place. Emma reached out a hand to rest upon his knee, and he came back to them with a bit of a start, the faroff gaze clearing from his eyes.  “Like us even,” he added. “We might have been expendable slaves to most - but we mattered, at least to each other, and he always made sure I knew that.”

Both of their daughters had drifted off to sleep by then; the excitement of the day overtaking them once they had settled in to listen to Killian’s quiet, lilting voice. Kristoff came to lift Sonja from Killian’s side to carry her to her room, wishing the rest of them goodnight. Anna followed with a contented wave as Sven trailed behind, headed outside to his barn to bed down for the night.

Queen Elsa’s gaze remained on Killian, though the story had finished. There was a melancholy, almost wistful, look within her light eyes as she seemed to consider the story yet.  “He sounds like the best sort of big brother,” she finally said to Killian softly, and gentle and a bit sad smile curving her lips. “I wish I could have met him….” This last was said almost hesitantly, as if she herself did not quite know why it had slipped out, and yet she nodded determinedly after, as if confirming the sentiment.

“I wish you could have met him too, Milady,” Killian answered fervently, his voice a bit hoarse and husky with the regret and pain of still missing his elder sibling, even after ages had passed. “Maybe it’s just something about the way a younger sibling sees a beloved older one, but at times I can see  something of Liam in you.”

Elsa smiled once more, gratefully accepting what for Killian must be the highest compliment he could give someone. The three of them settled into a sort of peaceful remembrance of those no longer with them - bittersweet but not unpleasant, as they were reminiscing of good times and not just their loss - before she rose as well to retire for the night.

Her exit left Emma and Killian seated cozily before the fire together, one last mug of hot chocolate in each of their hands and the silent beauty of the room around them, still decked out for Christmas, and snow still falling outside, weaving a lovely spell.  Tilting her head up, Emma found Killian’s lips waiting to capture hers tenderly, sipping from them as if they were even more delicious than the chocolate and twice as precious. “I love you, my Darling,” he murmured against her cheek as his kisses trailed back to the spot behind her ear that made her melt on the spot. 

Practically keening back that she loved him too, Emma held her husband even tighter, wanting nothing else she could possibly imagine in that moment. As she gazed into Killian’s blue, blue eyes she could see the future of them, and their family, together, and she knew the coming year would be their best one yet.

Tagging: @cssecretsanta2k19​ @xhookswenchx​ @searchingwardrobes​ @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @thisonesatellite​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @revanmeetra87​ @teamhook​ @hollyethecurious​@winterbaby89​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @hollyethecurious​ @gingerchangeling​ @spartanguard​ @lfh1226-linda​

[newsiegirlscout]

Curiosity’s Cat

Alright! Merry belated Christmas to this year’s lovely Wordgirl Secret Santa, @hibiscusangel15! The prompt was “Tobecky”, and I hope it’s as sweet a peppermint romance as all can be! 

Proofread and edited by a very tired brother who wouldn’t get out of bed this morning and was thus subjected to listening to the live reading of all my fanfiction. Enjoy, and happy holidays!

Soft piano music played from the radio perched on the McCallister coffee table, a well-worn book with pages held by a bookmark emblazoned with a gear design and embellished with ribbon beside it. Claire hummed softly in the kitchen, stirring cinnamon and nutmeg into steaming hot cocoa. In the living room, perched precariously on several dictionaries and a chair on wheels, a young boy stretched on his toes to place the gleaming star on top of the tree....just a few inches, now.....

“Tobey, love, do be careful!” Claire scolded softly, bringing in the silver tea tray to rest on the table. Reluctantly, he brought the star to his side again, only to note the tray’s impedimenta with bafflement.

“Mother, last I checked, there were merely the two of us, yet you’ve prepared three mugs of cocoa here. Who, may I ask, is the third for?” he asked, though the confusion did not inhibit his immediate claim of one of the black-and-white biscuits from the tea tray. 

“Sirius, a bit of reason never hurts. Last I checked, Mr. Starsoldier doesn’t quite share your predilection for cocoa, does he?”

The blonde’s face flushed cherry-blossom pink as he quickly pushed his plushie robut companion behind one of the throw pillows with his geometry-socked foot and sipped his steaming cocoa with as much refined dignity as a fourteen-year-old possibly could have, burning his tongue and dotting his nose with butterscotch syrup and whipped cream all within about fifteen seconds of each other. She shouldn’t have, but Claire couldn’t help but giggle. 

“His name is Mr. Starslayer, and he--I mean, it!--couldn’t possibly, because his internal circuits aren’t coated, his joints aren’t hydraulic, and hot fluid stains aren’t machine-washable. So, no.” 

“Hmmmm...” she said playfully, tapping the candy cane hooked the rim of her mug against it in thought, “Then perhaps it could be for Nova?”

The mechanical cat purred from the hearth and arced her paws towards the warmth from the tray--a clever trick, to be sure, but one that had been programmed in the long wait after midterms before the rest of the class period was over. Nimbly, she lept to the davenport and settled on Claire’s lap in response to the name recognition, settling happily into sleep mode once his mother laid a hand on her back.

“She’s a cat, mother, she’s far too fussy. Now, pray tell, who is arriving so suddenly?”

There was a tap at the window behind the boy as a familiar countenance appeared with a grin.

“Hello, common folk!” chirped none other than Becky Botsford. 

###########################################################

The boy’s heart froze in his chest, the dictionaries he was sitting on unfortunately taking that very moment to fall off-kilter, toppling the chair, the volumes, and the lanky but still hopelessly inept Tobey McCallister III.

“I couldn’t resist!” Tobey’s beloathed classmate giggled, giving a thankful curtsy as Mrs. McCallister took her coat, “Thank you so much for having me over--is, is Tobey okay?”

“Peaches and cream, my dear.” grumbled the coffee table, a bruised arm appearing just far enough to retrieve the steampunk mug of cocoa as Becky laughed and stepped over on light feet to the tea tray. 

“Ah, make yourself comfortable, love--there are marshmallows in the sugar bowl, cream, and, ah, you can’t have seen Chez McCallister until you have one of these biscuits--Tobey and I made just about all of these, he absolutely insisted only perfection.” the woman said, beaming with a perfect knowledge of how much the comment would embarrass her son.

“Thank you! And these are positively ambrosial....why, Tobey, I’d save some for you, but I’m afraid these rose spritz ice cream cookies are going to melt...” she retorted playfully as the boy genius finally sighed and sat up opposite her on the rug. 

“Well, then, Miss Becky Botsford, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he said, nabbing one of the aforementioned sweets.

“Tobey,” his mother cut in with a soft glare, “Your friend here has found herself with an excess of activity and few places to carry out such.”

“But your brother made the cut, I presume?”

“He’s at his friend’s house.” she said, smile unfaultering, “My parents needed time to wrap and hide Christmas presents for our treasure hunt tomorrow, and we usually go to the Heaslip’s together, but the most coincidental thing is, as soon as Violet found out that you were mostly by yourself for Christmas Eve too, she caught a cold! A really super-contagious one! That Johnson, thankfully, hasn’t caught yet and isn’t transferable to either the homemade cookies or fluffy unicorn mittens she gave me. That’s funny, huh?”

“As ignominious it is that your mate has clearly thrown you for a foxglove, I suppose I could appreciate the company.” he said softly. 

“Perfect!” she said, resting her cocoa on the table, “It took me a little while--an “absolutely last minute” sort of little while, but I brought some ideas for games that I think everyone here will enjoy and are entirely compatible with the unconventional three players, and of course I’d always listen to any of your ideas!”

Claire McCallister rested her empty mug on the coffee table and stood up wearily, buttoning her jacket and snagging her briefcase from the door. 

“Ah, these shall have to be two-players, I’m afraid.” she said, ruffling her son’s hair and stepping to the door, “It’s rather last-minute, but some people really can’t keep themselves out of trouble on Christmas Eve, and the office called. Absolutely no stealing snogs while I’m gone, you both hear?”

The scarlet mess of what had once been Tobey McCallister stuttered as the door fell shut and his classmate merely looked over the book’s description from the coffee table.

“Awww, hey, is this The Wild Robot? I think TJ was reading that a little while ago...”

“And what of it, Botsford?” he said, sipping his cocoa.

She looked up with soft sparkling brown eyes and giggled. Not that Tobey cared, that is. “Hey, no need to be embarrassed! It’s always the story that really matters, anyhow. Speaking of which.....” she said, shaking her bookbag.

“Ah, yes, the games!” he said with a poorly disguised lilt of enthusiasm, “What is it, now, Ticket to Ride? Scrabble? Mouse Trap? It’s only sporting to warn you, though, ‘tis an honor fine to lose to a McCallister!”

She cuffed him on the shoulder playfully, laying out game sets on the table one by one, none of which were recognizable, or, for that matter, branded. 

“Prepare to eat crow, my good sir, for ‘tis an honor perhaps finer to lose to a Botsford!” she retorted in perfect Elizabethan English and with a loose imitation of her friend’s accent to boot. “This one, I thought would be a fun one to start with--I mean, if you’d like? I made it ages ago, but I’ve never had a proper opponent. It’s called Curiosity’s Cat, and it goes like this....”

*****************************************************************************************

The game should not have been nearly as fun as it was, the two had to admit, once the puzzles were solved, the cards shuffled, the case finished, and, of course, the laurels of candy wreaths and good cheer bestowed. 

“Now, I have to wonder,” Tobey mused, his wreath perched rather like a flower crown, “Did you make these yourself as well, Miss Botsford? They are absolutely resplendent.” His delighted gentle grin could warm even Rhyme’s frozen heart--not that our now-speechless heroine noticed or cared in the slightest of course.

After a flustered few seconds (”What’s the matter?”, Tobey teased, “Curiosity’s Cat got your tongue?”), Becky’s nerves defrosted enough to respond, “Yes, but satisfaction brought it back.”

“Ah, shame, I was hoping I’d finally found the compliment to silence a rather loquacious blatherskite.” 

“That simply wouldn’t do, Mr. McCallister, you’d have to talk only half as much as usual to fill the room with two people’s worth of conversation. To answer your question, yes, actually, I did!”

“In a last-minute’s sort of little while, I presume?” he hummed, turning it over, “Ooh, are these candied hibiscus really edible? I haven’t had the sort of thing since Bristol!”

“You’ve never been to Bristol.” she said flatly.

“Exactly.” he said, pulling one of them off the tightly-woven bands and letting the light saccharine taste dissolve on his tongue, “So it only serves I’d miss them all the more. And I must say, my dear, these are absolutely ambrosial--that is to say, heavenly, scrumptious, and practically perfect in every way.” 

He laughed softly, tapping her on the shoulder and leading her to the kitchens, “So it’s only fair that deserves at least a cup of tea, wouldn’t you say? Best vanilla-jasmine blend you’ll find here or anywhere, a la McCallister.”

“Tea? I call a perfidy.” she responded, starting a round of a silly and longer-running game of wits between the two as the kettle began to heat and the boy started to look through a variety of spices and blends in the cabinet.

“You speak with intellectuali-tea, though it’s surely with a malady.”

“That’s with respectibili-tea, though only in a rhapso-tea.”

“Well, that, love, is a tragi-tea, for our anfractuosi-tea.”

“To that we have a reme-tea.”

“And so ends”, he said, pressing a hot cup of fragrant tea into her hands, “Our proso-tea.”

At last, the door opened and the very exasperated Mrs. McCallister hung up her coat. “Hello again, my darlings--ah, that tea is for me, I presume?” she said, playfully giving an attempt at lifting Becky’s teacup to which the girl giggled and gently tugged hers back.

“Mother, Becky doesn’t have to go so soon, does she?” the boy protested, noting the extra car outside as she poured herself a cup with cream and sugar. 

“Ah, I don’t suppose you accidentally enjoyed yourself, did you? Don’t worry, your friend will be over again soon enough.” 

The girl curtsied as she packed her bags again and set her teacup in the sink. “Thank you for having me--I accidentally had fun, too. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas to you as well, Becky Botsford.” he said as he walked her to the door, stopping short just a few centimeters from the step as she tapped his shoulder and looked up to the top of the doorframe.

“Technically, your mother is here now...” she whispered at a pitch a mouse would need to be quiet to hear. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

And, bouncing lightly to the tip of her toes, she silenced him with a kiss on the cheek.