#saved writing

[elizababie]

J-J-J-J-June Day 01: Treasure

Collab with the beautiful and endlessly talented @just-get-fucking-lost

Jade Manath. Maeve Blackwood. Fluffy F x F.

Special thanks to @cecilebutcher for the prompt list that we shamelessly appropriated-slash-appreciated. So sorry, so much love.

Jade Manath buries bird bones.

She buries bird bones and a sachet of small, round river stones and a bundle of sweet-smelling twigs. She's digging a hole at the fourth corner of her property, the most important corner, the last corner, the one that will offer the most protection, when it becomes apparent that she was not fast enough.

A shadow falls across her path.

She has a guest.

Jade breathes in and in and in through her nose then out, once, sharply through her mouth.

"What can I do for you?" Jade asks. Her words are icily polite even while every syllable of her tone screams, 'what the fuck do you want?'

"What does anyone want these days?" A female voice responds, pedantic and falsely inquisitive. "Money, wealth, fame, someone to spend forever with." Maeve. She whispers into Jade's ear. Even though Maeve isn't in view, her curls are; fiery red and orange strands, curled and sticking what seems to be every which way. The scent of charcoal and birch trees floats forward and wraps itself around Jade's head, a gentle pressure with a slight warning of suffocation. "Trying to hide, little bird?" she asks softly, the smile on her lips audible in her voice.

"Some people," Jade says very slowly, very carefully. "Only want solitude."

She sits back on her heels and puts an imperceptible distance between Maeve and herself. It's not enough. It's not enough by far.

Maeve stands out starkly against the landscape around her. Jade is a product of her environment, dusty brown skin and hair and eyes that match the pale earth, the newly sprouting stalks of wheat, the livestock Jade surrounds herself with. Maeve is a fire blazing in the center of Jade's carefully planted, grown, and protected oasis.

Jade wants to hate her for that. Jade also wants to hate herself for her all-too-human desire to keep warm.

She holds her spade in one hand and the leather bound journal she came here to bury in the other. She's going to have to do something dramatic after this. She's going to have to bury her mother's gleaming gold grandfather clock in the creek. She might even have to find some other, more powerful, treasure and some other, more powerful, spot to bury it in.

If Jade litters the earth with trinkets, they will grow into a force that is equal parts magnificent and impenetrable. They will keep her safe. Jade will sow the earth until she is the only thing that could possibly sprout up out of it.

First, though, Jade has to purge her land of the intruder imposing upon it.

"Why are you here?" Jade asks. She stands and brushes dirt off on her pants. She asks one thing and means another, what she wants to know is how she was found.

What she really wants to know is how she can be lost again.

She doesn't get her answer before muscle memory kicks in. Jade starts back towards her cottage and waves Maeve along after her. "Tea?"

Maeve never stops smiling but follows after Jade. The world around them is painted in dusty, neutral tones and, as always, Maeve makes sure to shine bright right in the middle of it. Maybe one day Jade will see that even plants need to burn every once in a while to start off fresh.

"Why wouldn't I be here? It's not like you're hiding or anything," Maeve says. They cross the threshold into the kitchen together. Jade keeps going, deeper into the guts of the room. "You offered me tea, people who hide from me don't offer me tea." Maeve leans across the doorway and watches Jade work. "Why are you here?"

Jade sets the kettle out to boil and collects herbs. She gathers teacups and thinks about strychnine. A corpse would be a powerful talisman to bury.

Jade has done it before.

"Hiding," Jade says. "Not from you, don't flatter yourself. Just in general. I'm tired. Tired of everything, of all of it." Jade waves her hand vaguely through the air.

ALL OF IT: the Manath druids, her clan starving for leadership, her brother sitting at the helm.

ALL OF IT: Jasper's endless needs. His endless demands. “Sister, we're moving camp! Where should we go?” and “Sister, I ruined everything again! Clean up after me!” and “Sister, mother is dead! Bury her while I fuck around!” and-and-fucking-and

ALL OF IT: eyes and ears, always on her. So many fingers, always pointing.

Jade got sick of it, of taking all of the blame for none of the credit. She never wanted that life anyway. She has never wanted to be a leader. Jade Manath just wants to watch her crops grow.

"Here." Jade sets Maeve's tea down at the table. She left of the strychnine. If Jade is remembering correctly, Maeve is too smart for her own good, she's most definitely told someone where she was going. If she doesn't come back there will be more visitors. Corpses take a long time to bury, Jade can only give them so much of her time without neglecting her other trinkets.

Maeve glances down at the cup and picks it up with both hands, She maintains eye contact and drinks the entire glass.

"Hide away with all your treasures, here at the end of the earth," Maeve says, setting her empty cup down and finally seating herself. Her presence alone makes the room feel warmer, brighter. Doesn't Jade know you need a little sunlight to grow? "Sit on your porch at the end of the day and admire your work, not anyone else's." She smirks, brushing some of her curls back. "I guess deep down we all just want a simple life, solid rewards for the effort put in." Maeve rests her hands on the table, her nails are painted a deep, olive green—But why should that matter?

Maeve pushes her cup towards Jade and nods slightly. "Delicious as always. May I have some more?"

Jade looks at Maeve. She looks back at Maeve's nails. They don't match Maeve's eyes the way they always used to. They don't accent her hair. They're the color of Jade's tea cups. They're the color of the ivy that climbs the walls. They're the color of all the things Jade suspects might be buried down deep inside of her.

HER: Jade.

HER: Maeve?

Jade tucks her hair behind her ears. She is not the person she was the last time they sat across a table from each other like this.

SHE: Jade.

SHE: Maeve?

“No,” Jade says. She tucks her spade into her back pocket and heads for the door. “Come with me. Bring that.” She doesn’t specify what that is. Maeve’s choice is her own. They all have their own secrets to hide from and their own protections to build. Maeve grabs the porcelain cup in front of her and stands, following after Jade without question.

Jade doesn’t mean to smile but it sprouts up anyway: dandelions growing between cracks in the sidewalk. Determined. Improbable. She's silent as she leads Maeve to the most powerful spot in the farm, the beginning, it’s heart.

ONCE UPON A TIME Jade Manath ran away. She ran away from her home, her family, the responsibilities that were not hers but ended up in her lap anyway. She ran away right to the end of the world and then she sat down, she built a fire, she decided that this was far enough.

Everything else sprouted up after that, veins connected to a still-beating heart. That’s where she leads Maeve. They walk to the memory of that first fire. It’s been years-years-years but Jade thinks the ashes might still be warm. The sacred and the holy have that effect sometimes, they live forever. 

Jade passes Maeve her spade and keeps her silence. If she says anything the spell will break. If Maeve needs to be told what to do then maybe she does not belong here after all.

Maeve kneels and she digs. She digs and she gently places the teacup into the hole and, using her well-manicured hands, she scoops the dirt back in, gently patting the surface down before she stands and dusts her pants off.

Jade takes her spade back and digs a second hole directly beside the teacup. She sets the spade into its bed and gently tucks it in. She thinks that she's not going to be needing it after all. Maybe nothing needs to be buried in the creek. Maybe her new life is perfectly protected after all.

Jade's mind is made up. She nods resolutely at a job well done and stands shoulder to shoulder with Maeve.

"Come on," Jade says. "Let's go home."

[wishfulsketching]

I have finally finished season 2 of Arcane and can now enjoy your art without fear!!! They should be happy together 🥺

I take it "they" means zaundads because that is what I've been drawing the most BUT, lets be honest, applies to like 98% of the characters in the show.

They should've been a big happy familyyyy

[frigidfries]

happy birthday deltarune. happy late birthday undertale. here's a comic!

cheers to best friends forever & ever & ever & ever & ev

[bi-writes]

the new baby you take care of is the cutest baby you've ever met. (a lil dubcon, baby trapping, 18+)

he has a big head with a tuff of little blond waves, and he has the brightest brown eyes in the entire world. he smiles at every face you make at him, and he takes a bottle like a champ and will nap for hours as long as you're quiet.

his father has a strict schedule set for him. when you met that big man for the very first time, you were speechless. your teeth had clacked together with how fast you tried to close your gawking mouth, but it was impossible not to with how much he towered over you, nearly touching the top of the doorway.

he is methodical, down to every minute. tacked onto the fridge, he had shown you his son's current schedule, which he emphasized with a dead glare must be followed to a T.

two feedings in the morning followed by a nap. another feeding. a longer nap. another feeding. another nap. all separated in increments of 45 minutes, with instructions on how to use the bottle warmer and how to measure the formula.

his son does not cry. his father had told you, if he cries, y'r doin' somethin' wrong. and he was right. the baby only cried when he was hungry, and he would fall into a dead sleep as soon as you gave him a bottle.

it's odd, to take care of someone else's baby. especially this man's. there's no woman in the house, as far as you can tell. the whole house is decorated very minimally, cozy and in shades of warm greens and cool blues and browns. there are no heeled boots by the door or pretty fur coats, and whenever you pass by his bedroom, only one side of his bed ever looks lived-in. there are no pictures on the walls, no makeup in the bathroom drawers, and no pads or tampons under the sink.

just a big, unfeeling man and his big, adorable baby.

but you think that your actions to get this big, unfeeling man to like you are starting to have the wrong kind of implications.

it starts with dinner. you start to make it, using the ingredients from his fridge to make stews and buttery mashed potatoes and roasted veggies. the image of you stirring a pot with his baby on your hip has not left him, and whenever you don't have some kind of meal cooking when he gets home, you answer to someone curt, annoyed, and cold, even to the touch.

then it's the decorating. you thought his couch was a little bare, so now there's a few throw blankets laying across the back of it. there's a vase of pretty tulips on the coffee table. you're growing herbs on the windowsill, little pots of thyme and rosemary and basil. you leave house shoes by the door now, and even when you're not there, he sees those fuzzy pink slippers in the foyer, and he can't help the way he chubs up just seeing them when you're not around.

you start to bring some extra changes of clothes. after the baby spit up on you more than once in a day, you bring a duffel bag with you once a week with extra changes of clothes. he snarls when he sees your clothes in one of his drawers; pretty black panties and matching bras, all laid out under your lounge wear right next to his fucking socks.

the toothbrush next to his in the bathroom. the multi-colored chapsticks in the drawers. tampons and pads organized in the cabinet, your moisturizer next to his shaving cream. he smacks his fist against the wall when he sees the finished package of your birth control in the trash because wot the fuck are y'doing taking those things when y'know i want another--

he can see you in the baby monitor. swaying in the dark of his son's room, the baby's head on your chest as you rock him softly. you're singing a little, a gentle hum to soothe him enough that his eyes start closing. he groans a little when he sees your eyes shut as you kiss his son on the forehead, cooing at him as you pat his little back and tell him to have sweet dreams.

you're making brownies when he comes home that night. his son is seated in his high chair, clapping his hands, and you're smiling at him and cooing in that baby voice you do as you take the warm brownies out of the oven. when you see him emerge from the darkness of his living room, you smile at him, taking off the oven mitts.

"hi, simon," you say softly, and his pupils dilate when you slip a hand over his son's head to soothe him. "i made some dessert, hope that's okay. thought you might wanna try my new recipe."

simon comes into the kitchen as you take his baby out of his high chair. you hoist him up against your hip, and when simon comes closer, you giggle as tilts his head to the side and stares down at you both. you tilt your head back a little, blinking up at him, and the flutter of your lashes is enough to have him rock hard in his cargos as his hands curl into frustrated fists at his sides.

"i'm gonna put him down for bed, it's a little late," you tell him. you hoist his son up a little higher on your hip, picking up his little chubby arm and waving up at simon. "say goodnight, daddy."

simon grins under his mask at the soft lilt of your voice. you try not to squeak when one of his big hands slides around your waist to hold you at your back, and he bends down to kiss his son's forehead through his mask.

"goodnight, my boy."

you try not to linger on the idea that he may have grabbed your ass as you walked away. no, his arms are just so long, they grazed you while you passed by him.

the baby always goes down nice and easy. one bottle later, with a full stomach, he's rubbing his little eyes and fussing in your arms as he tries to fall asleep. he's a mover, simon's little one--always grasping around with his arms and flopping onto his side in the bed. oftentimes, after a nap, he's facing the opposite direction and on the other end of the crib when you come to get him.

so you shouldn't be surprised when as he's falling asleep, his little grubby hands reach for you and pull.

your eyes widen when you hear the pop of buttons. you look down, gasping, when you see his son has grabbed onto the front of your blouse and pulled the first few buttons out. they clatter onto the floor in a mess, and you're not able to see where they go with it so dark in his room.

"oh, god!"

you try to be gentle as you set the baby down in his crib. he immediately sticks his thumb in his mouth with his head lolling to the side, and you try to pick up anything you step on as you hurry out of the room, trying to hold your shirt together.

it's useless. you're standing there in the hallway, hastily shutting the baby's room closed, tits out at eight in the evening.

"tha' why he so good ta ya, mama?"

your eyes bug out of your head when you see simon there. he's standing at the end of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes are focused on your poor open blouse. the bra you're wearing leaves nothing to the imagination--just mesh with underwire, and when simon comes closer, there's virtually nothing separating you when he reaches up with that gloved hand and cups one breast, thumb smoothing over your nipple before he tugs on it gently.

"wha--simon--"

"thinks y'r his mum, pretty tits out like tha'," simon hisses. "'f ya wanted it so bad, why didn't ya just say?"

"simon--"

he tsks, using both hands this time to grip your blouse by the edges and tug it down your arms. it falls around your elbows, and he takes the straps of your bra with it, until it's pooled around your waist and your tits fall free.

"fuckin' hell," he breathes, and your lips part gently as he hikes up his mask and spits on your nipples before sucking them into his mouth. "mmmph..."

you arch your back as he rips the rest of the buttons off with one smooth tug. your blouse falls, and your bra follows it, until you're in nothing but your skirt, backing up into the darkness of his bedroom as he kicks the door shut. you scramble to get him back on top of you when your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you're laying down--grabbing around his shoulders as you try to guide his mouth back to your breasts where he can suckle on them with that filthy mouth of his.

"knew it--" he rasps. "fuck, i knew it--"

your eyes squeeze shut when he ruts his hips against yours. your panties are ruined, slick wet and digging uncomfortably into your folds, but the scratch of simon's jeans have your back bowing at a hard angle, your fingers sliding between your bodies as you reach for his zipper. you gasp when you feel him under your hand, straining against denim, the girth of him tying your stomach in hard knots as you think about what it'll take to get you open enough for him to slip in.

"keepin' me fat," simon murmurs. "holdin' my baby like tha', wot did ya think was goin' ta happen, eh?"

"h-huh?"

"'m gonna make you fat, too, swee'eart," he says, smoothing his hand over your tummy. "saw those little pills in y'r bag. it won't take today, but we'll try again tomorrow, yeah?"

you're drooling as he fucks you. your hips are hiked up, your skirt flipped up as his thighs smack against your ass. you're not privy to the way the fat of you shakes every time he's buried to the hilt, but simon appreciates it, tongue out as he watches you push back against him to try and get yourself filled quicker. he traces your spine with his fingers, leaning over you as he watches your fingers dig into his dark sheets and grip for dear life as he gives it to you fast and deep. it's a mess of wet between you, and you know the bed underneath you will be soaked by the time he's done with you, but you can't think about that when the very thing you've been wanting since the day you met him is so close, so within reach.

you haven't taken a single one of those pills since the first week you met that fat, beautiful baby. maybe simon didn't take too close a look at the dated little pills in your bag and in the bin, the little calendar you used to mark rotting away in a forgotten pocket, gathering dust.

when simon comes, your mouth is filled with saliva, and you gurgle between barely-lucid giggles as your hips sink into the mattress. he's saying something, but you don't hear it. instead you reach down with your fingers and stuff them inside, trying to gather as much of his cum and keep it. when simon tries to cum in your mouth later, you nearly bite his dick off.

how dare he try and waste it?

[novakiart]

spideypool but it's a comedy of errors

[dreamgirljune]

yes yes characters doomed by the narrative always slap BUT what about characters saved by the narrative? characters who have already given up hope and don't know they have a happy ending? characters who believe they are a lost cause, characters who feel irredeemable, characters who think there's nothing left for them, but the narrative does provide a way out? what about the characters who don't expect anything good, who don't even remember how to wish for it anymore, who get the things they need anyway? what about the characters who actively run from being saved getting saved in a way they can't stop or control. what about being saved by the narrative!!!

[bishy437]

he won

bonus:

[artsandfartss]

insert super cool caption here

[crazywolf828]

To all my writers who have a tough time with smut terms and not knowing which ones to use, I have found the holy grail for us.

This reddit user, who I've recently found out is @kjscottwrites here on tumblr, took a poll of 3,500 people and went really in depth with asking their favorite terminology, along with actual pie charts on what the readers preferred to see in their smut.

Check out their post with the link to the Google doc here!

[greenteaandtattoos]

A traditional "knight saves the princess" story except at the end, the princess sighs and goes, "I suppose you want my hand in marriage as a reward" and the knight goes, "Oh, no, I'm just new in town and wanted to make friends but I've got really bad social anxiety" and the princess is like, "Rad, because I was never gonna fall in love with you" and they live happily ever after as besties (they're both aroace).

[elizababie]

J-J-J-J-June Day 02: Coffee

Hitting this prompt a second time bc I have zero self control and got in my feelings lmao

Jowan Vahara. Jowan (dragon age). I gently angst myself into oblivion.

This one got a playlist bc I have zero self control

Thank you so much to @cecilebutcher for the prompts!

A day in Jowan's half-life: Morning.

Eyes open. Do not think about the dreams. Do not think about the days left behind. Do not think about the day to come.

Jowan takes a breath (one-two-three). He listens to the early morning breathing that chokes the dormitory around him (three-two one). He doesn't want to be awake—Right now? In general? Don't think about it don't think about it don't think—but no more sleep is going to come.

Jowan closes his eyes tight. Jowan opens them again, resigned. He has to learn when to cut his losses before he is taught. Tranquility would, will—

Do not think about that.

Jowan doesn't think about it. He rolls over and greets his reflection.

"Another sleepless night, Jowan?" Jowan asks.

The mage in the cot beside Jowan's shows his teeth. Jowan knows him well enough by now to recognize the gesture: a smile. It's a crude approximation, it is cruel and wild and cold and all he was ever taught to give. The Vahara Dalish, from the stories that Jowan's it-is-a-mistake-to-consider-me-a-friend has shared with him, are all like this. They are teeth and claws. Bark and bite.

Jowan Vahara does not speak of the clan he left behind often, but he doesn't need to. He is living proof of the keen-edged kindness grown in the Vahara clan, after all he's here. fed to the wolves by his own.

Vahara sighs. It's a sharp sound because everything about him is sharp. "Speak for yourself, Jowan," he says.

It's a tired game, one that the two of them have been playing for far too long, but the two of them share a name and a cage and years upon years of history. The classics are all they have left, but that's fine. Nothing much will matter for—

Don't think about that.

"So, Vahara—"

Vahara says, "Do not call me that."

"Apologies. So, Keeper—"

"Far be it from me to correct you, but if you'll remember I never quite attained that particular accolade before being left to a fate akin to death but twice as demeaning." Vahara sits up straight. He meets Jowan's eyes. "But I cut you off. What's on your mind, abomination?"

Jowan flinches. He hears Vahara's words in his mother's voice and it makes him think about the dreams—

Do not think about the dreams.

Vahara leans his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands. He's not going to apologize at all elsewise Jowan would apologize first. It's a relief that neither of them bother. Apologies have never had any space between the two of them, why start wasting breath now?

Jowan says, "Fair play."

Vahara runs his hands through his hair. He looks like all of them: his pale skin is drained of color and starving for the sun, his eyes are shadowed, his long, dark curls are tangled from fitful sleep. He looks like none of them: Vahara is healthy and whole, even freshly sprouted from his Harrowing he smolders with quiet ambition.

"Little about life is fair," Vahara says. "You should be angry."

"Angry?"

"Angry. You should be furious. To watch apprentice after apprentice conquer their Harrowing all while remaining stagnant yourself... You should have strangled me in my sleep. That's what I'd have done, in your position."

"Doubt I'd have gotten very far," Jowan mutters. Vahara looks lanky and frail and likely to break under the pressures the Circle places on their shoulders, but Jowan sees Vahara for what he truly is.

Teeth. Claws. Bark. Bite, bite, bite.

"Always underestimating yourself. Weakness will not be tolerated, Jowan." A shadow crosses Vahara's face. Those words belong to old stories that Jowan has heard, they haunt old scars that Jowan has seen. Vahara smiles. That expression is never more of a weapon than when it is wrapped around words that belonged to his clan. "You could have whatever you want, all you have to do is take it."

"That's easy for you to say." Jowan sits up now too. Their knees nearly touch. The knowledge of Vahara's Harrowing hangs thick in the air around them. Jowan does not think about that or tranquility or the sharp scent of blood.

Vahara shakes his head, another sharp movement from a razor-sharp man. "Do you think so?"

Jowan thinks about his mother's eyes, about the hatred and fear in them. Jowan thinks about his father's hands, about the bruises they left on Jowan's small wrists the day he was dragged off to this mausoleum. Jowan thinks about the blood on Vahara's mouth and under his nails and soaked into that long, long hair of his the day he was fitted for his chains.

They were younger then, both so tiny and so fragile. Vahara came after Jowan and now he, too, has seen his Harrowing before him. Vahara came after Jowan and will see many more days and days and days after Jowan is—

Don't think about that.

"It's not a question of easy or difficult," Vahara says. After that first day he learned the system and worked it. He got himself into Irving's good graces. He endeared himself to the Templars he could and picked at thread after thread until he'd thoroughly unnerved the ones that he couldn't. After he cleaned the blood off of himself way back at the beginning of their half-lives Vahara kept himself that way. Healthy. Whole. Untouched and untouchable. "It's a question of will and won't. Will you survive, Jowan?"

Vahara leans close, close, close.

Jowan knows what decision Vahara made. It's written in the blood that the Templars do not spill and the bloodthirst that boils deep in his eyes.

Vahara stands. He stretches. He turns to leave. "You should think on that, Jowan. The time to decide is long past, and when the Knight-Commander comes knocking, you'd do well not to be left wanting.

A day in Jowan's half-life: afternoon.

Eyes open. Think about what you want. Think about what you will do to get it. Do you want to survive, Jowan? Think about blood and blood and blood.

Think about it.

One day, Jowan could wake up after eight hours of sleep. They'll be blissful and unburdened, they'll come easily and dissipate restfully. He'll wake up beside Lily in a room of their own, a life of thier own. He'll boil coffee on the stove and let Lily sleep late. He'll wake her when it's done and They'll drink together on the floor of their bedroom. They'll laugh loudly with no fear for watching eyes or listening ears.

They will be unafraid.

Jowan is never going to be afraid again.

Eyes open. Face the day ahead.

Jowan takes Lily's hand. He looks Vahara in the eyes. "I am going to survive," Jowan says. He tastes fresh coffee. He feels the fire in Vahara's eyes spark up in his own. "Will you help us, Vahara?"

Vahara smiles. It unfurls like a razorblade. It's all teeth. Bite-bite-bite. "Good choice, Jowan."

A day in Jowan's half-life: night.

Jowan's phylactery is destroyed, he bought his future with blood and now it belongs to him. He is free. He is safe. He thanks Vahara with every beat of his heart, he can taste the coffee and lazy summer days he'll share with Lily.

Heavy boots fall on the stone. Greagoir. Irving. Templars and Templars and Templars. Their path is blocked and the coffee is burning and Vahara—

Vahara does not look surprised. Templars and Templars and Templars. Bite and bite and bite.

Knight-Commander Greagoir's eyes glint. His words wrap themselves around Jowan's neck as surely as the hangman's noose; they condemn Jowan to every fate he scratched, clawed, and fought so hard to escape.

Jowan asks, "You won't lose a single night of sleep over this will you, Jowan?"

Vahara smiles. It is a smile. "No, Jowan, I will not."

"We were friends."

"We are friends." Jowan lounges. Catlike. Sanguine. "You know more about me than anyone in this new life of mine."

It's true. It's exactly as true as the fact that Vahara is not a creature that is willing to be known. Any vessel that holds his secrets will one day become disposable. Jowan's foundations are shattered and cracked. He should have known. He should have guessed.

Jowan Vahara is going to survive. No matter the cost, he will save his own skin. He will feed his own to the wolves.

He will always be exactly what he is, nothing more, nothing less.

Jowan looks at his maybe-this-is-what-friendship-is and shows him exactly how much he taught him. Jowan slices open his own palm: blood and blood and blood.

He is going to survive.

The last day in Jowan's half-life: goodbye.

[bluerosefox]

Always Favors You

Another Sibling Danny and Jason idea!!

"Are you Jason Peter Todd?!" demanded a deep and commanding tone from the strange glowing being in front of them.

All the Bats stiffened and tensed, no doubt gearing up for a fight against the being that somehow knew Red Hood's full name.

Jason, Red Hood, decided to put on a brave front despite no doubt cursing in his head and wondering how the heck did this thing know his full freaking name.

"Whose asking." he snarled out, his hands twitching for his gun when the huge glowing knight with purple flames coming out of his helmet and cape, who was riding on a nightmare looking horse while they all had been in the cave going over tonight's patrol.

The Knight didn't seemed bothered by his response nor did he even seem to care or flinch when Batman made his own demand on 'Why was he there and who was he' or when Damian unsheathed his sword and pointed it towards him. Instead the strange glowing Knight reached to it side and pulled out... A glowing scroll? Huh. (Also he completely unnerved everyone in the room when the Knight didn't even react when Batman had tossed a Baterang when he reached for his side)

The Knight opened the scroll and spoke clearly with purpose.

"Jason Peter Todd,

You are hereby invited as a special guest of honor to the crowning of our future King of the Infinite Realms.

Daniel Phantom, once Daniel Jackson Fenton, and once Daniel Austen Todd.

Prince of the Infinite Realms, the Keeper of Balance, The Peacekeeping Halfa, the Defeater of the Tyrant King Pariah Dark, The Great One, Youngest of the Ancients, Ancient of Space, The Bridge between Life and Death.

You, the half-brother of our King, have been given the highest of honors for your past actions and will be given housing and food in the Realms and Phantom's Keep, for the week long event. Personal servants and attendants will be at your disposal and a seamstress will be on hand to tailor make your attire for the Coronation.

Signed: Clockwork. Ancient of Time. Watcher of the Infinite Timeline. Kronos. Mentor and Adviser.

PS: I shall have Fright Knight ("Me" the Knight bluntly said for a second) leave this scroll along with a personal one for you from Daniel to read over and once you make up your mind sign the bottom of the scroll.

I do hope in time you will pick the right choice Jason Todd, we of the Infinite Realms would like to reward you for your actions. After all, if you hadn't gotten young Daniel away from your father that night all those years ago, we would never had gained our Prince nor be free from our once Tyrant King.

Ah, one more thing.

The Infinite Realms will always favor you Jason."

Jason felt like he couldn't breath as Fright Knight? Rolled up the scroll, pulled a letter from his side, and held out the two items for him to take.

[imsodishy]

I know we all love when writers go deep down a research rabit hole on something really specific for the sake of a fic (I certainly am not immune to doing ridiculous research into minute details for no real reason lol)

but allow me, just for a moment, to sing the praises of ✨️vagueness✨️

Unfamiliar with a city's precise geography? Be real vague.

Want a character to be a doctor but don't know how surgery works? Mention it in passing.

Character plays a sport you know nothing about? Vague it up!

You don't know what specific brand of a thing would have been popular in that time and place? Go generic baby!!

You really can just hand-wave stuff that's not where you want the focus of your story to be without anything falling apart. The audience will look where you point them, like a magic trick! If the research is stopping you up and making progress hard or frustrating you can just... not do it.

[seamistgale]

Of @ghostreblogging, Where Danny has the same tax evasion skills as his parents. Kind of a coffee shop AU, but well, its gotham.

[soranker]

my girlfriend

[enigmaris]

A continuation of this post:

There is a teenager in the Watchtower.

Scratch that, there is a teenager that Bruce doesn't know in the Watchtower. The boy, maybe around Tim's age, is wearing worn blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a pair of tennis shoes that had seen better days.

He is wearing no mask, no suit of armor, with no weapons on him. He's just sitting in one of the seats in their larger meeting room, quite literally twiddling his thumbs. He hadn't noticed Batman standing in the doorway.

Behind him, he heard Clark coming round the corner, Bruce lifted up a gloved hand which made the man stop.

"What is it, Bats?"

Bruce sent the man a look before motioning to the boy, who had definitely noticed them now.

He waved at them.

"Who is that? Don't you normally require all your new kids wear costumes up here?" Clark asked.

"Unknown." Bruce said before giving his friend a look. "He's not mine."

Why does everyone assume it's his kid? Just because this boy has dark hair and blue eyes does not mean he belongs to Bruce. Clark has nearly the same looks as Bruce, and he had two kids, why couldn't this one be one of his?

"He's not mine either!" Clark said before frowning. "Not that I know of."

Bruce lifted up an eyebrow, knowing his friend could see it beneath his cowl. Clark rolled his eyes.

"Let's be honest if he was one of mine, you would know before I would."

Bruce grunted and turned back to the teenager. The kid was clearly listening in on them while looking away from them. Bruce watched as he tapped on the table in front of him, making little staccato noises of anxiety.

"Why are we waiting out here?" Barry asked, appearing right in a blur of red and yellow right as he did. Clark pointed at the unknown in the meeting room. Barry grinned widely beneath his own cowl, making the rubbery material crinkle.

"Batsy! Another one? You sly dog, where'd you find this one?"

"He's not mine." Bruce growled, Barry actually froze for a moment, shock slowing him down to normal speed for a moment.

"Nice joke, Bats. If he's not yours, then whose is he?"

Bruce clenched his jaw, Barry looked between the two of them, head flipping rapidly until he realized it wasn't a joke. In the corner of his eye, he could see that the unknown was openly staring at them with a smile forming on his face.

"We are in space." Barry hissed. "How'd a random kid get in here?"

"Excuse me?"

Behind the three hero pile up, Arthur arrived. The King looked less than pleased at having his way impeded.

"I come to these bi-monthly meetings due to their importance. I have an entire kingdom to manage, so if we could all move?"

"Bats has a new kid!" Barry nearly shouted.

"He's not mine!" Bruce growled while Arthur looked up and over Barry to see the unknown.

"Do we have a security breach?" Arthur asked.

"He's not yours yet!" Barry said at the same time, lifting up a finger and pointing it right at Bruce's face.

"We don't know who it is or how they got here." Clark said. "He doesn't seem hostile."

"Appearances can be deceiving, Superman." Arthur said , pursing his lips. Bruce turned to see that the boy had now waved in greeting at Arthur and Barry. Barry waved back.

"Are we having a hallway party or something?" Captain Marvel asked. "A party sounds waaaay more fun than a meeting, no offense Batman."

"We have an intruder, Captain." Arthur said pointing directly at the kid.

The kid's eyes widened and he looked behind himself before pointing at his own chest in surprise.

"He doesn't seem like an intruder?" Marvel said with a frown. "What if he's lost?"

"The watchtower is a secure facility, people don't get here by accident." Bruce said.

"I dunno, Batman." Marvel shrugged. "We have aliens, magicians, and time travelers on our team. He could be lost."

Bruce refused to admit the genial man had a point, the unknown could be from anywhere or anywhen. From further down the hallway, John and Diana appeared, walking together. Diana was holding a glass filled with one of Barry's chocolate protein shakes. John nodded in greeting at the group.

"We have an intruder Wonder Woman." Arthur said.

Diana looked through the crowd before shaking her head.

"Nonsense. He has permission to be here. Come, we should sit for the meeting."

Diana muscled her way through the crowd, still carrying the glass. She walked directly over to the unknown. The boy perked up, smiling widely as Diana held out the glass for him

"Thanks, i was getting hungry." The boy said before taking a large gulp of the shake, Diana smiled down at the boy, resting her hand in his dark hair.

"Woah. Plot twist." Barry whispered.

"Come on, let's get to the bottom of this." Clark said walking into the room, following the path Diana took.

The rest of the League followed suit, taking their assigned seats around the table. Bruce wasn't surprised to see that the unknown was sitting in an extra chair right next to Diana.

"To start the meeting." Diana said onc everyone was seated. "I do have some news to share."

"Yeah, I sure hope so." Marvel said in that strange, joking tone he used as if he were quoting something, not that Bruce had ever been able to recognize the quotes.

"I would like to introduce the Justice League to my son, Daniel of Themyscira." Diana said, putting her arm around the unknown and squeezing him to her side.

"Hi." Daniel said, waving at the group, his cheeks a bit red.

Immediately, there was an uproar from most everyone in the League. Questions and shouts of confusion, shock, and denial. Diana only allowed the noise for a few moments before she slammed her fist onto the table hard enough to crack it.

"Enough!" She shouted, quickly quelling the group. "I will not allow my decision to bring my son here be questioned."

She glared at them fiercely, still holding Daniel to her side. The boy had ducked down a bit with the shouting but was now looking up at Diana with adoration.

"This entire team, aside from Captain Marvel, has brought their young charges to the League." Diana continued, looking at each of them. "Superman has brought up two Superboys, Aquaman introduced to us Aqualad, Flash has both Impulse and Kid Flash, Martian Manhunter came to us with Miss Martian. I do not believe we even have time to list all of Batman's brood."

Barry had the audacity to snort at Diana's last point. That actually eased the tension and people relaxed. Diana leaned back into her seat.

"I would think that my team of many years would trust my judgment in bringing my son here. I assure you he is well into his training and more than competent. I will allow you all to ask your questions now."

Bruce cleared his throat near silently and spoke up first.

"What does he know?"

Diana didn't look impressed at his question. Daniel looked at her face before frowning at Bruce, clearly following his mother's lead.

"I have spoken at length about the League and how we work together. I assure you that i have not revealed any identities shared in confidence with me." Diana's tone made it clear she was offended that Bruce would accuse her of revealing their identities. He barely kept from wincing.

"Uhm. How did he... come to be?" Clark asked, clearly not wanting to ask any truly intimate details.

"In the way all children do." Diana said, giving Clark a look of his own.

That answer was not very helpful given that Diana was formed from clay by her mother. Had she taken a pottery class when he wasn't looking? Unless the boy was much older than he appeared, there was no way Diana had hidden a pregnancy from them 15 or so years ago.

"Why haven't we heard of him before now?" Arthur asked.

"Daniel was training with Pandora, one of the elders of Themyscira, she sent him here when he learnt all she had to teach. He joined me in the world of man only a few months ago." Diana answered simply.

"Uh. Excuse my ignorance." Barry said in a tone that made it clear he was about to say something very ignorant indeed. "But I thought your family only had women in it?"

This time Daniel answered, looking nervous.

"I'm. I'm trans actually." he answered, while rubbing his arm nervously.

"Which is completely fine and something that will not leave this room." Diana said, her voice comforting towards her son while her eyes promised hellfire to the heroes in the room.

Everyone made noises of agreement until Daniel relaxed, going back to smiling.

"Excuse me Wonder Woman, will Daniel be wanting to join any of the other, younger teams?" Captain Marvel asked, sounding excited at the idea.

Which of course he would, he was still acting Den Mother for Young Justice and loving it.

"That is up to him. For now I would like to keep him to myself for a while longer, but once he is further trained by myself I think it would be a splendid opportunity."

"Yes!" Daniel agreed before clearing his throat. "I mean, that'd be cool or whatever."

"We can discuss it in the future." Bruce allowed, knowing that it would probably happen sooner than Diana would want knowing how both the Teen Titans and Young Justice were. Danny nodded eagerly at that.

"Finish your food." Diana told Daniel before looking back up at the rest of the team. "Are there any more questions?"

"Does Daniel have any health requirements or powers we need to be aware of?" John asked. "Or is his physiology the same as your own?"

"His powers are vastly different from my own. It is one of the reasons Pandora had taken on his training in the beginning." Diana answered easily. "The facilities and resources we have here should work well for him in case of injury."

The knowledge that Daniel's powers were so different from Diana's that she didn't feel comfortable training him herself was worrisome. Amazons, as far as he knew, had relatively similar powersets. Although he had not heard of Pandora before, perhaps she was specialized?

"I do have, what's it called? An enhanced metabolism. Most stuff here doesn't work on me."

"Don't worry son. We have plenty of medications designed with metas in mind." Clark told Danny. "If it works on me and your mom, it willl work for you."

"Cool."

"What all can you do?" Captain Marvel asked.

Daniel turned to look at Diana who nodded. The boy then looked back at them and started listing his powers.

"I can fly. Not as fast as mom's invisible jet but pretty fast. I'm super strong. I can turn invisible and intangible."

"Intangible?" Clark asked.

"It is an ability similar to Martian Manhunter's density shifting." Diana clarified. "The mechanisms are different."

Magical, most likely, instead of John's more science based power. Bruce would have to come up with more contingencies to compensate for that.

"Yeah intangibility is pretty cool." Daniel told them. "Althought when i first got it, it was pretty scary. I kept falling through stuff. I was almost afraid I'd start falling through the whole planet by accident. I totally have it under control now though."

"I would be interested in comparing our abilities, Daniel." John said, nodding his head towards him. The boy beam excitedly.

"Yeah!"

"Not in the Watchtower." Diana warned, voice stern.

Yes, that was probably sensible. Danny agreed with his mother, and John clarified that he would be happy to meet up planetside at their convenience.

"Are those all of your abilities?" Barry asked, Daniel shook his head.

"No there are a bunch more. But I'm not supposed to use them for a while."

"Why?"

"My son is powerful, but he has relied on his powers far too much in the past." Diana said, sounding porud enough to make her son blush. "Right now, I am training his melee abilities, we have agreed to a temporary pause until he has met my standards."

"It's been super tough. Mom's making me practice with her sword all the time." Danny added on.

"My mother will be sending on your own weapon soon." Diana soothed. "Hephestes does not like to be rushed."

"I know mom."

Diana reached up and ruffled her son's hair. Daniel leaned into the affection with a smile.

"Are there any further questions?" Diana asked, when no one had anything immediately she nodded. "Good. Is there any further business? If not, I would like to take my son home for a proper meal."

Everyone looked at each other. Bruce had wanted to discuss some of his findings, but with Diana's reveal, it hardly seemed important any longer. Bruce was going to need to do a lot of research and planning. He wondered if he should get Tim involved or if he should hold off. The League agreed to end the meeting early, Diana stood.

"Come Daniel. We should get to the jet."

Daniel scrambled up and followed his mother out of the meeting room, his worn sneakers squeaking a bit on the flooring. The rest of the League sat in silence for a moment taking in what Diana had told them.

Wonder Woman had a child. A child with powers beyond her own.

Daniel popped back into the room before anyone could speak.

"Gosh, I am sorry I almost forgot. Mr. Batman, I have something for you."

Daniel walked right over to Bruce, who stared at him from underneath the cowl. The boy was not nearly as confident as his mother when it came to his glare. He cringed a bit, but reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny, silver and green flash drive. He placed it on the table and stepped back.

"What is that?"

"Mom told me you like to make contingencies for everyone. In case they go crazy or whatever. So..." The boy motioned to the drive with his hand. "I mean, it'd be weird if i made my own plans, but like, you could do it. That has all my powers and weaknesses and stuff."

Bruce grabbed the flash drive and the boy looked pleased.

"Okay! I gotta go. It was awesome meeting you guys!"

Daniel turned on his heel and ran out of the room. Bruce looked down at the flash drive, doing his best to hide his shock. No one has ever just handed him a list of their weaknesses before.

"I dunno Bats, are you sure he's not yours?" Barry asked.