#the fossil fuel sisters

[cavity-collector]

my sim gave birth to triplets and i had already told @big-fongz i would name the child gasoline so i had to improvise the other two, i now present to you:

[sistersatan]

AOC Reacts To Republican Saying She Should "Educate Herself"

[pucksandpower]

Disturbing the Peace

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Max Verstappen x Vettel!Reader

Summary: an environmental activist disturbs the carefully constructed peace of Max’s life and turns his whole world on its head (or in which environmentalism and being a menace both run in the Vettel family)

Max strides across the tarmac towards his sleek private jet, ready to head up to the Red Bull Racing factory in Milton Keynes after a weekend of relaxation back home in Monaco. But he stops short as his eyes land on a cluster of protesters glued to the ground around his jet’s landing gear.

A gruff security guard approaches Max. “Sorry sir, we’ve got a bit of a situation here with these Greenpeace loons. They snuck past the perimeter and glued themselves down before we could stop them.”

Max scowls as he reads the words Fossil Fuels = Destruction scrawled across one of the protester’s shirts. He storms over, fists clenched at his sides.

“What the hell do you people think you’re doing?” he fumes, glaring at the seated activists. “You realize you’re costing me tens of thousands just by delaying my flight?”

“That’s kind of the point, bro,” one long-haired guy shoots back with a snide grin. “You’re one of the worst celebrity polluters on the planet.”

But Max’s gaze is drawn irresistibly to you — a beautiful young woman with fierce eyes and hair whipping around your face in the coastal wind. There’s an intensity and passion burning behind your stare that Max finds himself unexpectedly captivated by.

You rise gracefully to your feet, the only one not glued down, and take a step towards the fuming Formula 1 star. “Max Verstappen. Out of all celebrities last year, you were the 20th highest personal polluter. Even higher than Taylor Swift.”

There’s an unmistakable blend of reproach and attraction in your tone that throws Max off balance. He scoffs, trying to regain his bravado.

“What, are you stalking me or something? And I’m supposed to care what some random activist chick thinks?”

You level him with a pointed look. “Not some random chick. Y/N Vettel. Sebastian’s sister. And yes, you should care, because this is your planet too.”

Max blinks in surprise at the familiar surname, now recognizing the resemblance to his former competitor.

Oh fuck, not this girl.

He can’t resist giving you another once-over, taking in your lithe frame, the jut of your chin as you stare him down defiantly.

An amused smirk tugs at his lips despite himself. “Vettel, huh? I should’ve known. You two do have a thing for causing drama wherever you go.”

The dig lands but you don’t rise to the bait, shaking your head minutely. “This has nothing to do with drama, Max. It’s about doing what’s right for the environment before it’s too late to save it.”

“Oh, spare me the self-righteous preaching,” Max scoffs, reflexively going on the defensive even as a small part of him admires the conviction in your voice. “Like your jet-setting around to protest events is really doing the planet any favors.”

You raise an incredulous eyebrow. “Jet-setting? I take public transit everywhere. Planes are the exception for international events, and I always buy carbon offsets.”

Max feels a flicker of grudging respect at that before quickly stamping it down. He folds his arms across his chest, fixing you with a challenging stare. “Yeah? Well what about your clothes? I’m guessing that shirt was made from petroleum-based synthetic fabrics.”

A look of surprise crosses your face before you recover with a small shake of your head. “It’s actually bamboo. Petroleum-free and sustainably sourced.”

“Your shoes then,” Max presses, gaze dropping to the canvas flats on your feet.

You lift one demonstratively. “Recycled rubber.”

His eyes narrow as he struggles to find another example to poke holes in your lifestyle. You watch him search with ill-disguised amusement, finally taking pity.

“Listen Max, I’m not saying I’m perfect. Nobody is. The point is to keep trying to do better where we can.” Your eyes hold sincerity and — though Max is loath to admit it — wisdom beyond your years. “But you’re in a position of power. With all your money and influence, just think what you could do for sustainability initiatives. How many trees you could plant or clean energy projects you could fund with just a fraction of what you spend on private flights and gas-guzzling supercars every year.”

Max shifts, discomfited by the practicality of your words. It’s harder to be glib and dismissive when you’re not ranting incoherently about the planet dying, but making reasoned arguments. Especially with that intense, scrutinizing gaze fixed so squarely on him.

He clears his throat, resorting to sarcasm as a defense mechanism. “Yeah, that’s cute and all. But then who would keep all those gas station attendants employed? I’m doing them a public service, really.”

The ghost of a smirk curves your lips in a way that makes Max’s chest tighten unexpectedly. “How very philanthropic of you.”

He has to look away from the spark of challenge and — yes, flirtation — in your expression. Max isn’t sure when this stopped being a confrontation and turned into some sort of tense back-and-forth bristling with inexplicable chemistry, but it’s rapidly becoming unnerving.

Seeming to sense you’ve flustered him, you lean in conspiratorially. “You know Max, for someone who acts like such an edgy bad boy, you’re not so tough. I think deep down you know I’m right.”

Max’s jaw ticks stubbornly even as his cheeks burn at your proximity, at the sweet floral scent of your shampoo drifting across the scant distance between you. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

In a daring move, you reach out and lay a hand on his arm. His breath hitches just slightly at the contact as you hold his gaze intently. “Then help me understand. Join me for dinner sometime and we can talk more about this over something other than just shouting at each other.”

The gentle touch, combined with the sincerity shining warmly through those big widened eyes, takes Max completely off guard. He opens his mouth, then closes it, abruptly unsure how to respond to such an olive branch extended from his vehement critic just moments ago.

Before he can formulate a reply, the wail of sirens pierces the air. A police cruiser pulls up as four officers jump out, advancing menacingly towards your compatriots still glued to the pavement.

“Alright, that’s enough here,” the barrel-chested sergeant barks gruffly. “You’re all under arrest for criminal trespassing and failure to obey airport security.”

You hurriedly step between the officers and your fellow protesters, palms raised placatingly. “Please officers, don’t arrest them! I was the one who orchestrated this, I’ll go quietly. Just let them go.”

Max’s heart does a strange little flutter at the selfless gesture, at the protective way you shield your group from the aggression of the snarling police officers.

Before he can think better of it, he’s striding forward and planting himself at your side, a steadying hand on your arm. “Actually officers, I’m afraid I can’t let you detain this woman.”

You blink up at him in surprise. The lead sergeant looks far from impressed, folding his beefy arms across his chest.

“And just who the hell are you to make that call?”

Max lifts his chin defiantly. “Max Verstappen. I’m sure your supervisors would love to hear how the biggest name in racing got falsely arrested on the tarmac because one of their officers couldn’t exercise some restraint.”

The sergeant’s eyes widen almost comically and he takes an unconscious step back, disarmed by Max’s threat to leverage his fame and money. “Oh. Er … Mr. Verstappen, sir. I’m sure, um, we can sort this out ...”

Max cuts him off with an imperious wave, turning his attention fully to you. Your expression is a mixture of shock, curiosity, and — though Max certainly doesn’t dare name it — just maybe a tiny flicker of attraction in return.

“You asked me to try and understand your perspective. Fine, I’ll take you up on that dinner.” He looks you squarely in the eye, expression unreadable. “But you have to promise to hear me out too. No judgements, no protests. Just two people trying to figure out how to make the world better in their own ways.”

You stare searchingly at him for a prolonged moment. Then a slow, wondering smile spreads across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes in the most disarmingly beautiful way. You give a small nod.

“Deal. I’ll keep an open mind if you do.”

Max finds himself returning the smile before he can stop himself. “Deal.”

He doesn’t know why this odd, passionate woman has gotten under his skin so quickly. Or why he suddenly cares what some environmental activist thinks of his choices. But as you take his proffered hand and he helps you step carefully away from the cluster of protestors, Max feels an unfamiliar stirring of hope. Maybe there’s more to this situation — and to you — than meets the eye.

The sergeant looks between you two skeptically, but seems to think better of pressing the issue further with Max’s steely gaze trained on him. With a resigned sigh, he waves his officers back.

“Alright, we’re going to let this one go. But I better not catch you trespassing and causing problems again, you hear?” He jabs a meaty finger at you in warning.

You just smile serenely, still not releasing Max’s hand. “No worries, officer. I have a dinner to get ready for.”

As the police pull away, you turn that brilliant grin on Max again. He finds himself returning it almost against his will, captivated by the fire that dances behind your eyes. For the first time, he wonders if going toe-to-toe with an idealistic environmental warrior might actually be worth momentarily putting his own deeply-held beliefs aside.

Stepping in close, you surprise him by leaning up on your tiptoes to whisper conspiratorially in his ear. “Thanks for playing along back there. I owe you one, Max Verstappen.”

The warm breath tickling his neck sends an unexpected shiver down his spine. You pull back with a mischievous wink before turning and rejoining your fellow activists, hips swaying in a tantalizing way that has Max’s gaze lingering perhaps a moment too long.

As he watches you go, Max can’t shake the strangest sense that he’s suddenly entered uncharted territory. And that this is only the beginning of you continually barging into his life and turning everything deliciously upside down.

***

Max lets out a grunt as he heaves the heavy barbell up over his head, sweat beading on his brow from the intense weight training session. After securing the bar back on its rack, he straightens and grabs a towel to wipe his face.

His phone starts ringing from across the room, an unknown number flashing on the screen. Max debates letting it go to voicemail but finally relents with a resigned sigh, scooping up the device.

“Yeah, hello?”

There’s a brief silence before an automated voice responds. “This is a call from a corrections facility. To accept charges and connect this call, press 1.”

Max frowns, caught off guard. He presses 1 warily, curiosity getting the better of him. The line clicks and then a new, very familiar voice comes through.

“Max! Oh thank god you picked up.” It’s you, sounding mildly frazzled but still unmistakably your unique blend of passion and composure.

A surprised laugh escapes Max’s lips before he can stop it. “You? Calling me from jail? This I’ve got to hear.”

“Don’t sound so delighted,” you chide, though he can hear the smile in your voice. “Yes, I’m in a bit of a situation here. You remember the big event we had been planning to protest that oil baron’s ridiculous superyacht docking in Monaco?”

Max raises an eyebrow even though you can’t see it. “The one where you said, and I quote, ‘No Max, you can’t come. Your pouty little rich boy face is just going to distract everyone from the real injustice we’re protesting here.’“

“... Yes, that one.” You don’t miss a beat. “Well, we may have taken things a step too far. The police showed up and arrested all of us for trespassing and disturbing the peace.”

“You don’t say?” Max leans back against the weight bench, a teasing lilt to his voice. “So let me get this straight — you got yourself chucked in the slammer for causing your signature environmentalist dramatics, and now you’re calling me to help get you out?”

There’s a slight pause before you respond, tone turning softer. “I didn’t want to call Seb. You know how he gets — he’ll just give me that disappointed head shake and lecture about being more responsible. Acting like I’m still a reckless teenager instead of a grown woman fighting for a noble cause.”

Max feels a small pang at the uncharacteristic wistfulness in your voice. For all your sparring back and forth, he knows how much your activist work means to you. And how tirelessly you dedicate yourself to it, often at the expense of other aspects of life.

Chewing his lip, he considers his next words carefully. “I may give you endless shit about being a tree-hugging rebel without a cause, but you know I actually respect what you’re doing, right? Even if your methods are … shall we say, dramatic.”

You let out a small surprised huff of laughter at that. “Did Max Verstappen just pay me something resembling a genuine compliment? Aww, you really do care.”

Max rolls his eyes at the teasing, though his lips quirk in a reluctant smile. Something about your back-and-forth banter has a way of putting him at ease in a way he doesn’t quite understand.

“Don’t let it go to your head. I’m still holding out hope this is just a pesky phase before you eventually come to your senses and realize the error of your ways.”

“Fat chance, hot shot.” The warm amusement in your tone is impossible to miss. “But anyway, since you’re in such a generous mood — think you can do me a favor and come bail me out?”

Max hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, bringing you home with me seems like a surefire way to get your activist cooties all over my ridiculously expensive non-vegan furniture.”

“Max ...” You let out an exaggerated whine that has him fighting back another grin. “Come on, I’m begging you here! I’ll be a model prisoner, I swear.”

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Max pushes off from the bench and starts grabbing his shoes and keys. “Fine, fine. Twist my arm, why don’t you? I’ll be there in twenty minutes to ply your jailers with my generous pile of my money and spring you from the clink.”

You let out a squeal of delight that has his heart doing an odd little flip despite himself. “You’re the best, Max! Seriously, I owe you huge after this.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t expect me to make a habit of it. This is a one-time kind of deal.”

The two of you say your brief goodbyes and Max hangs up, head shaking in bemusement. He’s not sure when his friendship with the passionate eco-warrior became so effortlessly comfortable, bantering back and forth like a long-married couple.

But he also can’t deny the way his pulse kicks up just slightly at the thought of seeing you again — windswept hair, fiery eyes, and that bright smile that still catches him off guard every time it’s directed his way.

As Max jogs out to the garage to grab his Ferrari for the short drive to the station, he vehemently tells himself it’s merely because he’s intrigued by the novelty of your clashing personalities. That your relentless conviction is a fascinating change of pace from the empty glamor that usually surrounds him.

But a tiny voice in the back of his mind whispers that he’s lying to himself. That there’s something magnetically addictive about you and your tireless ability to see the world through a different lens than his own. Something that challenges him, stimulates him, reels him in over and over again no matter how much he pretends to resist.

He quickly banishes the thought, jaw setting in stubborn determination. Max Verstappen isn’t the type to get pulled into a girl’s orbit, no matter how intriguing she might seem on the surface. He’ll bail your reckless ass out of jail, have another enjoyable round of opposition-attracts banter, and then carry on with his usual life of racing and living by his own well-established rules.

Right?

The sleek crimson SF90 Stradale tears through the winding Monaco streets, wind whipping through Max’s hair as he pushes the pedal towards the floor. The adrenaline pumping through his veins feels vaguely familiar to the thrill of a heated race — though he refuses to dwell too deeply on why bailing out an eco-terrorist gives him that same edge-of-the-seat excitement.

He pulls up to the modest local jail in record time, the guard at the entrance giving him a skeptical once-over before waving him through. No doubt recognizing the signature Ferrari and flashy persona of the championship-winning driver.

Max swaggers up to the front desk where a bored-looking officer sits shuffling through paperwork. The young man startles at his approach, shooting to attention with widened eyes.

“Oh! Mr. Verstappen, sir! How can I help you today?”

Puffing out his chest just slightly, Max gives the officer his most imposing stare. “Yeah, I’m here to post bail for one of your … residents. Y/N Vettel.”

The cop’s brow furrows as he scans the intake files. “Ah yes, here she is. Environmental activist, part of that big protest at the marina. Disturbing the peace, trespassing, and a few of them even got hit with property damage charges from graffiti.”

Max scowls, that damned protective streak rearing its ugly head again before he can stop it. “I’m only posting bail for Y/N Vettel. The hell did she get charged with?”

“Just peaceful trespassing and disturbing the peace.” The cop frowns contemplatively. “Well, and resisting arrest when she tried to stop us cuffing one of her friends. But that’s about it.”

Rubbing his temples with a pained sigh, Max can’t resist a rueful grin. “Yeah, that tracks. Listen, what’s it gonna cost me to grab her so I can get out of here?”

“For those charges? €1500 bond should cover it.”

Max scoffs at the paltry sum, already pulling out his monogrammed money clip and peeling off a stack of euros. “Whatever, here’s double. Keep the change for your trouble.”

The cop’s eyes widen almost comically, but he knows better than to question Max freaking Verstappen. Hurriedly taking the bills, he produces some paperwork for Max to sign and process the transaction.

“Alright Mr. Verstappen, just need your signature here and here. And if you’ll allow me to get your fingerprints as well for the release forms ...”

Max begrudgingly complies, wanting to get this circus over with as quickly as possible. He taps his foot impatiently as the officer takes his prints and finalizes everything in the computer system.

“Okay, all set. I’ll have one of the guards bring Miss Vettel around to the release lobby. Might be a few minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah, just hurry it up,” Max mutters distractedly.

He crosses his arms and leans back against the wall, letting his eyes drift shut for a brief moment as he tries to compose himself. Your voice rings in his ears, that unmistakable mixture of sheepishness and determination that seems to sum up your entire persona.

Goddamn it, why did you have to call him? Why couldn’t you have just phoned up your doting big brother like a normal person instead of dragging Max into this? Part of him wants to be annoyed at how easily you’re able to play him, batting those big eyes and pleading for his help like you knew he would give in.

But the thought of leaving you to stew in a dingy jail cell somehow makes his stomach twist uncomfortably. Almost like he’d be letting you down in some weird, convoluted way. Ridiculous as the notion is, Max can’t deny this increasing pull you seem to have over him.

His eyes fly open as the door to the cellblocks finally opens, heavy footsteps approaching. Max takes an automatic step forward, pulse kicking up in anticipation despite himself.

And then you’re there. Hair tousled, t-shirt and jeans covered in smears of dirt and grass stains from the protest scuffle. But those defiant eyes are still ablaze, jaw set stubbornly as the guard leads you out in handcuffs.

“Max! You’re actually here!” Your face splits into a bright, surprised grin at the sight of him.

He tries and fails to suppress his own answering smile, raking an admittedly appreciative gaze over you from head to toe. “What, you didn’t think I’d show up for my favorite little jailbird?”

Shrugging nonchalantly, you flash him a sly look from under your lashes. “I don’t know, I had my doubts Mr. Bigshot Racer would sully his palms rescuing little old me.”

“Well, you know what they say.” Max steps in close, dropping his voice to a faux-seductive murmur as he leans towards you. Your eyes widen infinitesimally but you hold his gaze, seemingly transfixed. “I just can’t seem to quit you.”

You bite your lip in a badly suppressed grin at his corny line. “Did you seriously just incorrectly quote Brokeback Mountain at me right now?”

“Maybe.” He rocks back on his heels with a shameless wink. “Doesn’t make it any less true, does it?”

A delicate blush blooms across your cheeks in a way that has Max’s heart stuttering unexpectedly. The guard clears his throat loudly, shattering the moment between you.

“Erm, right. If you’ll just sign here for Miss Vettel’s release ...” He offers a clipboard to Max.

Tearing his eyes away from you with concentrated effort, Max scrawls his signature across the form. You watch him intently, an unreadable look flickering across your features for just a moment before the guard undoes your cuffs with a loud click.

You immediately bring your newly freed hands together, rubbing at the chafed skin of your wrists gingerly. Max’s jaw tightens at the sight.

“You good?” His tone is gruff with concern despite himself.

Glancing up, you give him a reassuring smile and nod. “All good, just a little tender. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Something about your easy dismissal of the discomfort rankles Max in a way he can’t fully explain. Like he wants to grab your hands, bring them to his lips to inspect the damage more closely. The sudden urge catches him off guard and he quickly tamps it down, fists clenching at his sides.

The guard seems oblivious to the undercurrent between you, simply giving a curt nod and motioning towards the exit. “Right then, off you go. And try to stay out of trouble from now on, Miss Vettel.”

You shoot the cop your signature wry grin. “No promises, officer.”

Rolling his eyes skyward, Max grabs your elbow lightly and ushers you towards the doors before you can cause any more scenes. You fall into step beside him easily, shoulders brushing in a way that has his skin tingling with awareness.

As the two of you step out into the late afternoon sunlight, you turn to him with those warm eyes that never fail to set his heart racing just a little faster.

“I really do owe you one, Max. Thank you for coming to my rescue, even after everything“

He gives an exaggerated huff, fighting a smile. “Well, it’s a tough job but someone’s gotta bail out all the reckless idiots who can’t stay out of handcuffs for five minutes.”

You laugh brightly, punching his arm in playful admonishment. A spark of electricity seems to jolt between you at the contact and Max freezes almost imperceptibly, mesmerized by the radiant smile you’re beaming up at him.

In that moment, with the sunlight catching in your hair and reflecting those fierce, captivating eyes, Max is struck by how breathtakingly beautiful you are. Not just physically, though that’s certainly undeniable. But the whole intoxicating aura of your idealism, your passion, your relentless fighting spirit that leaves him in a constant state of incredulous attraction no matter how much he rails against it.

You cock your head slightly, drawing him out of his reverie. “Max? You still in there?”

“Huh?” He blinks dazedly before recovering with a shake of his head, shoving his hands into his pockets in what he desperately hopes is a casual gesture. “Yeah, no, I’m good. Just thinking.”

Your brow furrows in concern as you study his face intently. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” Max clears his throat, avoiding your piercing gaze. He nods jerkily towards the car glinting fetchingly in the sun. “Come on, let’s get out of here before they decide to re-arrest your ass for loitering.”

As the two of you make your way across the parking lot, Max resolutely ignores the persistent voice whispering that he’s in deeper than he’s willing to admit this time. That you might just be addictive enough to become something he can’t simply shake off when he’s had his fill.

But rather than finding the notion disconcerting like it should be, he finds himself fighting the strangest flicker of excitement at the prospect instead.

***

The Monaco paddock is a dizzying whirlwind of activity as teams and personnel rush about in their usual pre-race frenzy. Max weaves through the chaos towards his driver room, helmet tucked under his arm.

He pauses as a familiar voice reaches his ears — that unmistakable passionate cadence that always has a way of stopping him in his tracks these days. Max turns to see you holding court in the middle of a cluster of wide-eyed engineers and PR reps, gesticulating emphatically.

“... and that’s just the start! We also need to look into renewable energy sources to power the entire paddock operations. Sustainable cooking practices in the hospitality suites. Comprehensive recycling and composting initiatives. Not to mention overhauling the travel logistics for a lower carbon footprint when we’re shipping this whole circus around the globe every other week.”

One of the hapless reps looks shellshocked, struggling to keep up as he scribbles notes furiously. “I … yes, of course, Miss Vettel. We’ll look into all of that right away. Anything else?”

You fix the poor man with one of your signature intense stares, full lower lip catching between your teeth as you consider. Max feels his heart skip at the seemingly insignificant gesture, cursing under his breath.

“Well, we haven’t even touched on sustainable sourcing for uniforms and merchandising yet. Or the complete overhaul needed for fuel compositions and racing technology to align with a realistic net-zero roadmap.” Your eyes spark with renewed fervor. “But we can circle back on those aspects later. For now I want you to-”

Sensing an opening, the bewildered rep seizes his chance to politely extricate himself. “You know what, Miss Vettel? Why don’t I go gather all my notes on your suggestions so far and we can regroup for a more structured meeting on next steps? I’ll, uh, be in touch!”

He scampers off before you can protest, leaving the rest of the staffers gaping at you with a combination of terror and admiration. You just shake your head bemusedly, rolling your eyes skyward as you catch sight of Max watching from across the way.

“What?” You shrug innocently at his raised eyebrow, the very picture of angelic nonchalance. “Someone’s got to light a fire under these people if we want to actually get some sustainability practices in place.”

Max bites back a grin, sauntering over with exaggerated slowness. “Is that what you call demolishing that poor rep’s entire understanding of the world? Just lighting a fire?”

“Hey, we’re not being paid to settle for complacency and half-measures,” you shoot back without a shred of remorse. “I got hired to shake this whole damn organization to its core until it goes fully carbon neutral. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

Your unapologetic defiance never fails to send a peculiar thrill zinging through Max’s veins. He rakes an admittedly assessing gaze over your crisp pantsuit and loosely swept updo — quite a change from the scruffy activist’s getup he’s so used to seeing you in.

“You clean up nice, I’ll give you that,” he muses teasingly. “Who knew you could look so respectable in professional garb?”

Rather than rise to the bait, you simply flash him a wink and smoothing your hands over the fitted blazer, drawing his gaze helplessly to the enticing curves beneath the tailored lines. “What can I say? I’m a woman of many talents.”

Heat prickles at the base of Max’s neck at the unexpected flirtiness, his tongue suddenly thick and useless in his mouth. He quickly masks the moment of flustered silence with a dismissive scoff.

“Great, so in addition to harassing race staff you’re assaulting my senses too? Good to know where your priorities lie, Vettel.”

You laugh easily, canting a hip as you fix him with those dancing eyes that never fail to set his heart racing. “If you can’t handle a little playful banter, Verstappen, you’d better get used to keeping your distance now that we’re colleagues for the foreseeable future.”

The words slam into Max with surprising force, hitting a little too close to the bone. Unconsciously, his gaze darts over you in a way that feels far too intimate for mere colleagues. Lingering on the delicate curve of your neck as you tip your head back, the lush pout of your lips, the swaying tendrils of hair escaping your updo which he inexplicably longs to brush back into place.

All at once the reality of your new role truly sinks in — that he’ll be seeing you at every single race from now until god knows when. The thought fills Max with a dizzying blend of elation and trepidation.

On one hand, the prospect of having you perpetually woven through his life in this shiny new professional capacity is enough to make his pulse kick up in giddy anticipation.

But on the other, it terrifies him to his core. You have an uncanny ability to constantly keep him off-balance, as endlessly fascinating as you are maddening. This casual flirtation between you has taken on undercurrents he’s no longer certain he wants to shy away from acknowledging. At least, not when the thought of shutting it down fills Max with a hollow ache he can’t put words to.

He’s pulled from his spiraling reflections as an impeccably dressed older man in a crisp suit materializes at your side, placing a wizened hand on your shoulder.

“Ah, there you are, Miss Vettel! I was just coming to fetch you for our preliminary sustainability council meeting with the rest of the advisory board.” The man’s eyes twinkle with unmistakable approval as he regards you. “Although from the looks of it you’ve already started getting the lay of the land around here and, ah, asserting your new directives shall we say?”

You shoot him a conspiratorial grin, leaning in as if sharing a secret. “Let’s just say I’ve had a productive first day on the job so far, Mr. Haywood. They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Max recognizes the man as Stephen Haywood, one of the senior F1 board members and the person primarily responsible for bringing you on in this ground-breaking new eco initiative. He chuckles indulgently at your quip.

“That’s exactly what we’re counting on from you, my dear. Ruffling some feathers and dragging this whole operation into the future, come hell or high water. I have the utmost confidence you’re going to revolutionize Formula 1 in ways we can’t even conceive yet.”

You beam at the praise, visibly swelling with determination. Haywood gives your shoulder another squeeze before gesturing down the paddock. “Shall we? We’ve got a long agenda ahead to tackle your big plans.”

“Absolutely,” you say eagerly, turning to follow him. But not before pausing to shoot Max one last heated look from over your shoulder, dropping your voice to a sultry murmur. “Don’t go too far, Verstappen. I’ve still got plenty more to say to you later.”

And with a tantalizing wink, you sashay away after Haywood in that maddeningly hypnotic way that you know reduces Max to an incoherent mess every time. All he can do is gape after your retreating figure, the sway of those hips in that perfectly tailored skirt rendering him utterly useless.

As you disappear around the corner, Max feels the dam inside him finally burst in a torrential flood of overwhelming emotion. Everything suddenly clicks into startling clarity in one shuddering epiphany that leaves him unmoored:

He’s in love with you.

Desperately, all-consumingly, recklessly in love in a way he never saw coming and is wholly unprepared to process. All those months pretending you were just an amusing diversion, a source of intrigue and refreshing friction in his otherwise orderly life. All the times he battled against the obvious chemistry simmering between you, tried to downplay it as mere physical attraction between opposing forces.

But now it washes over Max in one shattering wave of truth — the way his world tilts off-axis whenever you’re around, the gravity of your presence drawing him in against his will. How thoroughly and irrevocably you’ve embedded yourself under his skin without him ever truly realizing it was happening until now.

He grips the wall for support, legs feeling abruptly unsteady as his head spins. How is he supposed to reconcile this revelation? That his heart now lies so completely in the hands of this fierce, untamable woman utterly hellbent on dismantling and revolutionizing his entire life’s work in the name of environmentalism.

The delicious contradictions of having fallen for someone whose core values and purpose seem to exist in such direct opposition to his own are enough to make Max’s head throb dizzily. You are his antithesis in so many ways — that headstrong passion a perpetual thorn in his side, continually pushing and prodding him out of his self-imposed boundaries.

And yet … he couldn’t be more completely enthralled.

It’s that relentless challenging of his beliefs, that refusal to settle for complacency, that has drawn Max in and held him captivated against his will from the very beginning. In you he’s found a riveting counterpoint to the blinkered single-mindedness of his existence, a refreshing perspective that somehow makes him want to be a bigger, better version of himself.

Even now, just the phantom echo of your parting words has him straightening unconsciously, feeling almost chastened and bereft in the wake of your absence. Max has never been one to dwell on his emotions, preferring to analyze and compartmentalize until they’re boxed away into neat, manageable parcels.

But this all-encompassing feeling storming through him in your wake is anything but neat or manageable. It’s wild and catastrophic, crackling with the dangerous intensity of a lightning strike clawing its way across the horizon in slow motion.

Just the thought of looking into those blazing eyes and owning the truth of his feelings for you sends Max into a panic, chest squeezing with anxious breath. You have always seen through his feigned nonchalance, cut straight through to the bone with that penetrating stare. He has no idea how to even begin existing openly in the same space as you without his heart shining through brazenly for the entire world to witness.

His fist clenches against the cold metal of the garage wall as an irrational surge of bitterness lances through him. How dare you just sweep into his rigidly controlled life with all that blistering confidence and conviction, making him feel things he never wanted to feel? Upending his carefully maintained reality without a second thought, all in the name of your damned causes?

You weren’t supposed to get this far under his skin. He was just supposed to have a bit of fun, indulge in your company as a momentary diversion at most. And now Max is in so disastrously deep that he has no idea how to drag himself back out.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there warring with himself, torn between exhilarated possibility and vehement denial. What he does know is that his entire world has been turned upside down. And despite the terror rattling his bones, despite the desperate urge to somehow ignore the sheer enormity of this jolt to his system … he can’t muster the will to try and wrestle back control.

Not when the thrill of finally surrendering to you sends such intoxicating electricity crackling through every fiber of his being.

Max peels himself from the wall with renewed resolve, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He needs to steel himself, because avoiding you is clearly no longer an option. Not when your irresistible pull is only amplified now that you’ll be a near-permanent fixture in his life.

He has to face this head-on, confront the exhilarating chaos you’ve wrought in his carefully cultivated existence. Which means pushing down the churning jumble of emotions rattling around in his ribcage before they become too overwhelming.

“Get a grip, man,” Max mutters sternly to himself, knocking the heel of his palm against his temple as if to physically dislodge his internal storm. “It’s just Vettel. You’ve dealt with her shit-stirring antics a million times before. You can handle this new ... development.”

His words carry neither confidence nor conviction, but Max forges on anyway, straightening his shoulders as he plunges back into the fray of the paddock. If he can just maintain some semblance of outward equilibrium, he can get through this.

One foot in front of the other, he winds past the crowd towards his driver’s room as if in a trance. Any minute now, you’ll saunter back through in that mouthwateringly crisp ensemble, eyes bright with hard-won strategy and single minded intent.

And Max will just … what? Calmly confront you as if his entire understanding of your dynamic hasn’t undergone a seismic fucking shift in the last five minutes?

He barks out a mirthless laugh at the impossibility of such a scenario. Any pretense of indifference has surely been shattered between you now. All his meager attempts at deflecting through banter and heated bickering ring hollow to his own ears after this shattering realization.

No, for better or worse, Max has finally tumbled over that precipice he’d been teetering on for so long when it comes to you. Now more than ever before, he dreads and craves the prospect of your next meeting in equal, searing measure.

Because whether he’s ready or not … whether he thinks he can handle the fallout or not … you’ll be able to read every devastating truth written across his face this time.

When your paths inevitably cross again, Max knows there will be no more hiding from you the shift of feelings you’ve unleashed within him.

This time, he’ll be entirely and terrifyingly laid bare.

***

Three Years Later

The crisp mountain air fills Max’s lungs as he straightens up, wiping a trickle of sweat from his brow with a satisfied smile. The freshly tilled soil stretches before him in neat rows, ready and waiting to nurture the seeds you meticulously selected.

“Nice work, Mein Löwe,” you call approvingly from across the yard, one hand resting on the swell of your pregnant belly. “That plot is going to be perfect for all our veggies.”

Max’s chest warms at the undisguised pride in your voice as you survey his handiwork. Just a few years ago, he would have scoffed at the idea of voluntarily getting his hands dirty like this. But ever since that fateful day at the airport … everything has changed.

“Yeah, well, be sure to put me to work weeding and watering too,” he shoots back with an easy grin. “Gotta earn my keep as the cabana boy around here.”

You roll your eyes in playful exasperation even as an affectionate smile tugs at your lips. “I’ll be sure to get you a tiny little outfit.”

The teasing remark might have once pricked Max’s fragile ego. But now he simply shakes his head with a low chuckle, marveling at how natural, how right it feels to be the subject of your gentle ribbing. In the years since that first charged encounter, your barbs have sanded down his prickly edges until only his core of wry tenderness remains.

You cross the yard toward him, sunlight glinting off the tousled tendrils of hair that frame your face. Up close, Max can make out the dark crescent smudges under your eyes from many sleepless nights spent mapping out plans for this property — from the aerogel insulation in the walls to the extensive geothermal heating system to the solar panels spanning the roof.

Most people would have long ago surrendered in exhaustion when presented with building the world’s most environmentally sustainable home from the ground up. But not you. You had steadfastly urged him onward, determined to make this place a paragon of renewable living for your growing family.

His growing family, Max mentally corrects himself with a jolt of surprise that still hasn’t faded, even after all this time.

As if reading his mind, you pause before him, gently taking his calloused hands in yours. “Think you can handle planting all those seedlings tomorrow without me? The back pains are really kicking my ass lately.”

Max’s lips quirk upwards at the feisty lilt to your voice. “Getting a little too old to be bending over in the dirt for hours, liefje?”

“Hey, watch it!” You protest with a laugh, playfully batting at his chest. “I’m literally growing an entire human here. Maybe have some sympathy for your poor wife?”

“Alright, alright,” Max chuckles, sliding his hands reverently over the swollen curve of your belly. A sense of awe washes over him, just as it does each time he’s reminded of the incredible miracle blooming inside you — a tiny life that is half him, half this fierce, passionate woman he once couldn’t stand.

He leans in to press his forehead tenderly to yours. “I’ve got it all covered tomorrow. Why don’t you take it easy for once?”

You let out a derisive snort at the suggestion. “Yeah, like that’ll happen. Maybe if you massage my back tonight, though ...”

“Deal,” Max murmurs without hesitation, tilting his head to steal a lingering kiss.

Your lips are soft and pliant against his, still electrifying even after all this time. Max marvels yet again at this strange, thrilling new world you’ve ushered him into — one of quiet moments and domesticity and fulfillment. A world that his former self, obsessed with roaring engines and adrenaline, could have never envisioned.

But even as your mouths move in that timeless, familiar dance, Max’s mind drifts back to that fateful first encounter outside his jet all those years ago. The sheer force of your convictions had rocked him to his core then, cracking open the crusty shell around his heart. And before he could blink, you had blossomed into so much more than an impassioned activist — a friend, a confidante, a lover … and now the mother of his unborn child.

At last, you pull away with a contented sigh, cradling Max’s face in your tender palms. “Have I told you lately how grateful I am for you?”

“Once or twice,” he teases gruffly, though his chest clenches with an all too familiar ardor. “But you know I never get tired of hearing it, schatje.”

You beam up at him with utter adoration shining in your eyes. A look that never fails to disarm Max straight to his core. How had it taken so many years of chasing empty accolades for him to finally find this all-encompassing serenity?

“I just ...” You pause, worrying your full lower lip between your teeth. A sure sign you’re struggling to untangle an emotion webbed with complexity. “I never imagined I could be this … content.”

Your gaze drifts wistfully across the sweeping valley before your mountainside property, the majestic peaks dusted with snow on the horizon. For a beat, Max envisions it all through your eyes — the staggering beauty of this utopia you’ve carved out for your budding family, its self-sustaining existence treading as lightly on the earth as possible.

“After so many years fighting and railing against the system, to find this pocket of peace ...” You shake your head slowly, almost deliriously. “It’s more than I could have dreamed.”

Inexplicably, Max feels his eyes prickling with a sudden thickness at your reverent murmur. A lump forms in his throat, welling with all the indescribable gratitude and tenderness that still threatens to overwhelm him at times like this.

“You know,” he rasps out at last, tracing his thumb reverently over the sharp line of your jaw. “After that day at the airport in Nice … I tried so hard to shake the way you made me feel.”

A wistful smile plays across your lips at the memory as your eyes meet his in silent invitation. You’re hanging on his every word now — a state Max still struggles to wrap his mind around at times.

“No matter what I did, or where I traveled, part of me couldn’t escape your voice in my head,” Max continues, pushing through the lump in his throat. “Demanding that I question my way of life, open my eyes to how careless I had been.”

You nod slowly in recognition, lacing your fingers through his. The remembered combativeness from that long ago confrontation has faded now, giving way only to understanding between the two people who recognize each other most profoundly.

“At first, I just tried blocking you out,” Max admits with a rueful chuckle. He dips his head until your foreheads are brushing again as his voice lowers to an intimate rasp. “But the more I pushed you away, the deeper you burrowed inside me. Until I finally stopped fighting it and just … listened.”

He feels your sharp inhale as his words skate warmth down your skin. Slowly, almost unconsciously, your fingers tighten around his in solidarity.

“And look at us now,” you murmur at last, awestruck and achingly tender all at once.

In your eyes, Max glimpses the past, present and future stretching out in dizzying symmetry — those first fierce sparks of passion blossoming into the steadfast love that shelters your growing family. He sees the painstaking nurturing required to transform a confrontation into a partnership over years of effort and understanding.

Most of all, he sees the promise of new dawns yet to come, with each one awakening to your cherished, reverent teachings about the earth’s splendor and fragility.

His heart clenches fit to burst as Max drinks in your beauty — flushed and glowing with new life, still beaming with that incandescent fire that had first seared into his soul. Only now, it burns only for him, a flame stoking devotion and passion and sanctuary.

Just as Max leans in to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, the shrill chime of the doorbell shatters the moment. You spring apart with a breathless laugh.

“Fuck, I forgot Seb was supposed to be coming over today!” You give Max’s chest one last pat before turning toward the house, waddling slightly with the added weight of your pregnant belly.

Max grins fondly, trailing after you at a more leisurely pace. He can’t resist one last admiring glance over his shoulder at the pristine vegetable garden stretching behind the cottage — an oasis of sustainable beauty, just like the life you’ve created here.

As you reach the front door, pulling it open eagerly, Sebastian’s familiar lopsided grin greets you both from the other side. Your brother’s eyes immediately zero in on your rounded midsection, his expression melting into one of pure adoration.

“Oh, Bärchen, you’re positively glowing!” He exclaims, sweeping you into a gentle hug. “How’s my little niece or nephew treating their mom?”

You let out a dramatic groan, leaning back to shoot Max an exaggerated look of suffering. “This kid’s already high maintenance, just like their father. I’ve got swollen ankles, back pains, you name it.”

“Hey now,” Max interjects with a chuckle, sidling up to join the familiar banter. He claps Sebastian’s shoulder affectionately. “If they end up being anything like you in the baby stage, we’re in for a whole new world of sleep deprivation.”

Sebastian returns the grin, unfazed. “Like you aren’t an even bigger handful than me.”

You snort indelicately, looping your arm through Max’s as you shuffle back to allow Sebastian inside. “Are you kidding? With my influence, this baby will be an expert environmentalist before they’re out of diapers.”

“You wish,” Max shoots back with a smirk, his eyes twinkling. He knows better than anyone the depth of your convictions — and appreciates them more than he can put words to.

As the three of you bicker playfully, Max’s chest fills with an overwhelming sense of contentment. Just a few years ago, he could have scarcely imagined this scenario — the love of his life heavy with his child, her doting brother at their side, their sprawling eco-paradise as the idyllic backdrop.

But now, as he guides you both into the spacious, sunlit living room, Max knows without a doubt that this is exactly where he belongs.

Here, sheltered in the passionate wake of your ceaseless quest to better the world. Here, in the eye of the storm you had first raged into his life, upending everything until his soul had no choice but to still and listen.

You shoot him a private smile, reading his thoughts as easily as breathing. In your bright eyes, Max sees the future stretching out blissfully — a path paved by your determined heart that he will gladly tread in partnership forever.

All because on one fateful day, you had dared to make him question everything. And in doing so, unveiled the peace and purpose he never knew he craved.

[dontopenfairies]

I come up to him from behind and wrap my arm around his shoulder.

“This display is really interesting, but are you going to need a change soon?” I ask him quietly, my eyes on the replica Devonian plants in the exhibit beyond the railing. “The museum has a single-stall family bathroom.”

“No,” he says, taking a step away from me. “I’m meant to be grown up today, remember?”

“Oh, right. You should probably take care of this, then,” I say, reaching out and pulling his sweater down where it was riding up over the top of his pull-up. He blushes and yanks the hem down even further.

I let him wander away to read the text on the wall about the formation of fossil fuels and rifle through the cards in the gift shop on the other side of the room. When I look over at him, he’s on his knees at a little table next to the exhibit, scribbling on a piece of paper with crayon.

“What are you up to?” I ask.

“Look, they have these engravings on this table that you can put the paper on and scribble over, and it makes a picture. Like leaf rubbings.”

“Ohh, cool. Do you want me to put that in my bag when you’re done?”

“Uh-huh,” he says, passing me the paper. I slip it into my bag next to his back-up pull-ups.

“Which one do you think my sister wants?” I ask, holding up two cards.

“Wait, I think I need to go to the bathroom,” he says.

“Okay, let me put these cards back and we’ll go.”

I hold the door to the family bathroom open for him and lock it behind us. He starts to undo his pants. “Oh no,” he mumbles.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!!”

“Oh, baby, are you wet?”

“No!!”

“Let me see.”

He stumbles over, shame-faced and looking at the ground. I pull his pants down a little, revealing a very wet and saggy pull-up. “Aw, it looks like you had a couple accidents. Maybe even three good pees in here.”

He squirms. “I still need to go. Don’t take too long checking me out.”

“Okay, go to the toilet,” I say, smacking his butt as he turns around. But he has trouble pulling the elastic waistband of the pull-up down in front of the toilet. “Do you need help?”

He’s so red in the face. “Maybe,” he says.

I come up behind him and slip it off, but he gasps before it’s all the way off his genitals.

“I’m peeing!”

“Try to stop, sweetheart, so I can get this down and it doesn’t get on the floor.” He shifts from foot to foot, pinching his thigh. “Okay, if you can’t, just leave it on, and then we’ll change you.” I wait for him to answer, but he just squirms. “Are you still going?”

“I’m almost done. I’m done.” His voice sounds a little sniffly.

“Okay, let me get you a new diaper, baby,” I say, reaching for my bag.

“It’s not a diaper,” he says, chewing on his sweater sleeve.

“Right,” I say. “Let me get it out for you. Can you strip your pants off?”

He complies, folding them and holding them to his chest. I ease off his sopping wet pull-up and help him step into a new one. And then we get his pants back on and I zip him up.

“This wasn’t meant to happen,” he says. “I was supposed to be big today.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “It’s okay if you need to be a baby for a little longer.” It seems fitting that when I straighten up from sorting out his fly he’s sucking on three of his fingers. “Aw, you’re so cute,” I say, kissing his forehead.

“Even when I’m bratty?”

“Especially.”

[eyesthecolorofarson]

Best Man Pt.2

https://www.tumblr.com/eyesthecolorofarson/722299567819882496/dick-didnt-know-what-to-expect-when-he-arrived-at

Jazz watched, bemused, as Danny bounced around the work room. He went from one project of an improved Specter Speeder to a project he and Sam were working on with the mutated fauna in Amity to his newest.

She didn’t know what to think about Damian, but she was thankful the Council would like him. He was obviously raised entirely around aristocratic figures but possibly separated. His wording choice suggested the former and odd accent suggested the latter. She’s always been worried about Danny’s open heart, even more so when she saw his reaction to just seeing Damian.

Thankfully, Damian seemed just as smitten as Danny was. She didn’t necessarily believe in love at first sight, but she understood an alphas immediate attraction to an omega who fit all their preferences and an omegas immediate attraction to the same. Though it is odd how they both fit each other’s preferences.

She would ignore it for Danny. He’s been so excited and happy since their meeting, and even though it’s only been two days he’d already started making the wedding rings. Dad was over the moon when he asked for the blueprints and chemical makeup. Apparently he wasn’t going to make the actual ring part until he knew what Damian would like.

Those thoughts reassured her over-protective mind. She’d thought the attraction was either an aphrodisiac or plain old mind control, but Damian’s reaction to Danny told her that wasn’t the case. She’d been able to overhear a portion of their conversation, and it soothed her to hear Damian getting more and more flustered.

Her protectiveness flared up when she walked in on the kissing, but Danny’s face of absolute horror washed it away. As the best big sister she was she ignored how he now smelled of brown sugar and spice, coffee and caramel. She would only make fun of him for the rest of his existence. Like the best big sister she was.

“Jazz! C’mer, I got it to work!” Danny excitedly waved her over, bobbing in the air. She marked her page and went to the work table. It had a microscope, scale, Bunsen burner, dozens of glass beakers in racks, pipets, magnets and a friability tester. In the middle of everything was a Petri dish with a single green geode.

They were calling it Ectolite, and it seemed to be the Infinite Realms version of fossil fuels. It was created from decaying Blob ghosts or fading emotional remnants. Naturally, anyways. It took a very long time for ghosts to fade and Blobs were no exception.

Artificially they were much easier to make. She thinks. It only took Danny two days after all. “What cut are you going to make it?” She asked as she put on gloves. They didn’t want to contaminate the love it would emit with her own feelings. The love it was supposed to emit if Dannys theory was correct. “I don’t know. The other gem changes shape and texture, but I didn’t check to see if the bottom changes too.”

Danny used a pair of tweezers to pull the shape of the geode into a triangle, then a square, and then a circle. He worried his bottom lip. “I want it to keep this free flowing quality, but I don’t know if actually cutting it will change it. But if it can be manipulated like this,” he stretched it until it looked like a teardrop with a thin tip, “then touching it could ruin the shape I put it in.”

Danny moved aside and let her inspect it more closely. Each side of the geode seemed to be a different texture, one side looking like an earth geode, one looking like bismuth, one appearing to be sea foam, and one seemed to look like a meat hammer. “Have you talked to dad?” She moved the dish to the microscope as Danny groaned.

“I would–and honestly I really wanted to make it with him, but–well, it’s mom again.” She hummed. The geodes cells seemed to be shaped in an infinity symbol, and when she pulled them with the tweezers the cells seemed to go through cellular division to fill the new space, and reabsorb when she moved it back.

“Still angry?” “Worse.” Danny sighed, and she glanced to see him lounge into the air. “She overheard me tell dad about Damian and now she’s pissed that she not only has a half ghost son, but a liminal son-in-law. She’s convinced I’m overshadowing him.”

Talking about mom was always difficult after the reveal. Dad had taken it surprisingly well, explaining that he loved Danny more than he hated ghosts. He even went as far as to say he’d make an effort to learn about ghosts from actual ghosts. Mom on the other hand… “It’s not your fault,” she leaned up from the microscope and took his hand. “Moms always been more eccentric than dad, and we both know she lost it a few years ago with the Pandora situation.”

“We can’t force her to change, and we can’t change ourselves for her. It’s not fair for her or us. The only thing we can do now is try to move on.” Danny sighed and squeezed her hand. “I know, it’s just—I don’t know why, but I blame myself.” “It’s not your fault.” She said again, firmer this time. “It’s not your fault you got hurt, it’s not your fault you hid Phantom, and it’s not your fault she reacted like that. You did the best you could in your situation.”

She was so proud of him. He’d saved the town, the universe and multiverse, he was rebuilding the Infinite Realms and now he was courting someone. It hurt her heart in the best way. He was growing up so fast, and it made her so happy.

“Hey,” she pulled him down until he was back on the ground, “how about you take a break? You can go and see Damian, maybe meet his family, take him on the first date and talk more about the wedding. You can ask him about the ring.” Danny lit up.

“Yeah! That sounds great! Do you wanna come? I think you’ll really like him.” She smiled and shook her head. “I have an appointment with a few ghosts about setting up my firm. Besides, I think I’ll give it a bit more time for our last meeting to wear off.” He blushed and she couldn’t help but ruffle his hair. He laughed and batted her hand away.

“Alright, but you’ll meet him next time, right?” She smiled. “Promise. Now go see your omega.” Danny’s grin was wide enough to show all his sharp teeth. Teeth that were similar to hers. She pulled him into a hug and kissed his head. He squeezed her as if he was scared he would break her.

Jazz watched as he bobbed out of the room, and once he was gone let herself deflate. She pulled out her phone and saw all the texts from her mom. There were at least eighty and they just kept coming. Telling her to call her, to be reasonable, to convince ‘the ghost to let that poor omega go’. Six more came in rapid succession.

Jazz knew she could just block her and get a new phone. It’s what Danny did. But for some reason she just couldn’t. Well, she might know the reason. It was all simple guilting and manipulation, her mom pretending she was the good guy and it was really Danny who was the problem. She was being manipulated subconsciously, and every text she read only made her feel more sorry for her mom.

Her finger hovered over the ‘block’ button. She really, really wanted to press it. But there was a little girl inside her, whispering ‘no! You’ll never see momma again! I miss momma so much, don’t you?’ She sighed, made sure the notifications for that number were off, and picked up her book as she walked out. She had ghosts to help move on.

Danny fixed his shirt again. And then he adjusted his pants, which messed with his shirt. Should he wear his cape? He really liked his cape, but would it be too much? Oh! He had a space blazer that Nocturne got him! He could wear that with a—well, would a button up with the blazer be too formal? He should choose a different shirt. And black or white? Black, black was good. He ran his hand through his hair in the mirror before taking a breath and choosing the turtle neck.

He pulled his hair into a pony tail, fixed his belt, adjusted his blazer, the turtleneck, and then put on his shoes and grabbed his second courting gift. It was a circlet crown with a silver chain. The front had a small, teardrop gem and the sides had three larger ones inside flowers with dangling gems. He’d found it after he’d raided the treasury for anything he’d think Damian would like, and even imagining him in it was making Danny blush.

He wrapped it in green velvet cloth, then put it in a black box and wrapped it with a green ribbon, both of which he’d, uh, liberated from a jewelry store. He couldn’t ask his servants for one because they’d take that information to the break room, those gossips.

Wait. Where would he even meet Damian? At his house? He didn’t know where he lived. Well, he kind of did, but would him showing up unexpectedly be rude or creepy? He didn’t have a way to contact him. But he really, really wanted to see him. Should he just use the Ring of Rage? He’d use the Ring. “Ring of Rage, take me outside of Wayne Manor Dimension 45Q-X.” The Ring glowed bright and a red portal opened in front of him. When he stepped through he was in Gotham City.

Wayne Manor looked like every other manor he’d seen, just more Victorian Gothic with gargoyles and cobblestone walls. He fazed through the gate and took a deep breath. Walking up the steps felt similar to walking to fight Pariah Dark. He rang the doorbell, and adjusted his hair over his shoulder before the door opened.

The man who opened the door seemed to be a butler, rather old but like Damian–and everyone else in Gotham–smelled like death. He smiled, and hoped he wouldn’t be freaked out by his teeth. “Hello! My name is Daniel Phantom, but you could call Danny! Would you know if Damian is available, and if he is could I perhaps talk to him?” The man studied him for a second, then smiled and opened the door wider.

“Ah yes, King Phantom, an honor to meet you your highness. Damian has not stopped talking about you since your meeting. I am Alfred Pennyworth, the primary caretaker of Wayne Manor and it’s residents.” Danny stepped inside and held out his hand. “Please, Mr.Pennyworth, the honors all mine! Damian spoke about you quite highly. You don’t have to call me your highness or king or any of that royal decree.”

Alfred took his hand and shook it, and his smile made him feel a bit better. “Thank you, Master Daniel. If you will follow me, I believe Master Damian is currently in the dining room with his siblings and father.” Oh god, siblings and father? “Pardon me, Mr.Pennyworth,” his smile strained a little, “but—how many of Damian’s siblings are here?” Alfred seemed to notice his slight distress, and it made him smile a bit wider.

“Five of Master Damian’s siblings are present today, as well as close family friend Barbara Gordon, a rare occurrence you are lucky to see.” Oh. Ok. So, six of Gothams Greatest Detectives and The Batman are here. Oh god he hoped he didn’t do anything stupid. But knowing him he’d fall and break his nose the moment he walked in. He really had to stop thinking like this. He just—oh, for the love of Ancients, he was a king! He could handle meeting his future father, brother and sister-in-laws. He could do this! For Damian!

Alfred opened a door for him, and he said a small ‘thank you’ and tried not to wince under all the eyes now on him. It looked like a large dinning room with a long rectangular table filled with various foods. What time was it? Oh he hoped he didn’t interrupt breakfast. All the chairs were filled and they were staring at him with various emotions on his face.

But his eyes landed on Damian, and suddenly none of it mattered. Damian’s face lit up, and he launched himself out of his chair with a joyful shout of his name and into his arms. The force made him raise a few inches into the air, and he couldn’t help but laugh and pull Damian closer.

He still smelled like him. It was as if he’d added his scent into his own, and Danny wanted nothing more than to lean into his neck and leave a mark. But the voices in front of him reminded him there were others here, so he had to–literally–come back to earth and address the situation.

Jazz and Clockwork would be so proud of him.

When he lowered Damian had wrapped his arms around his neck and touched their heads together. “Oh Daniel,” he cooed, and his voice drove him a bit crazy, “What a wonderful surprise! I’ve missed you so.” He couldn’t help but laugh and nuzzle his nose, inhaling more of his scent. “It’s been but two days and I already have a piece of my soul dedicated to you. You’ve captured my mind in a state of worship that continues even in your absence.”

Damian’s face flushed and his smile grew and Danny wanted to kiss him. He held himself back. “Oh. My. God. Daniel!” Another voice said, and Damian pulled back and Danny moved to his side, wrapping and arm around his waist as Damian wrapped an arm around his as someone approached. The man in front of him had light brown skin and slightly long black hair and blue eyes.

He raced through his Gotham knowledge and held out his hand, smiling. “Richard Grayson! Though, you go by Dick, correct? Damian’s told me about you!” Richard’s, or Dick, smile widened and he shook his hand enthusiastically. “Dick, please. It’s nice to meet you, Daniel! Damian has told me so, so much about you.” Oh, that was good! From Damian’s blush and slightly embarrassed scent that was really good!

He let his smile become more relaxed, and Damian led him to a chair next to his that Alfred had somehow gotten in the short time they’d talked. “Thank you,” he said to the butler, pulled out Damian’s chair for him since Pandora would kill him otherwise, and sat when he did. Him sitting seemed to wake the rest of the table.

“So.” Bruce Wayne said, and Danny was reminded he was Batman. “I haven’t heard as much about you as Dick has. Tell me, who are you? You seemed to be a meta, correct?” That first part felt like it wasn’t really for him, but he wasn’t going to be intimidated–even though he definitely was. It also felt like bit of a lie since Alfred knew who he was, but he would answer honestly.

He straightened his shoulders, held his head high and looked Bruce in the eyes. All while trying to appear non-hostile. “My name is Daniel Phantom. I am the High King of The Infinite Realms, The Afterlife Dimension. I act as the King of the dead and underworlds as well as their gods. And, if you shall allow, I want nothing more than to make Damian my Queen.”

There was a pause and he couldn’t help but notice the uptick of caramel in Damian’s scent. He liked it. Dick looked very happy, and the others looked either confused, worried, or–in who he thought was Stephane Brown and Cassandra Cains case–absolutely overjoyed.

Bruce didn’t let anything show, but he glanced to Cassandra. She met his eyes and nodded enthusiastically, softly clapping her hands and giggling with Stephane. He hoped that was good. It felt good. Bruce didn’t seem to think it was good.

“King of the Afterlife?” Another asked, and he definite knew who he was. Jason Todd. “Does that mean your dead?” He could feel Bruce trying to burn a hole into his head. “I’m actually an odd case. I’m what ghosts call a Halfa, which means genetically I’m half ghost. It’s rather odd, so the simplest way I could explain it is that I act as the line between life and death, but I’m capable of moving it. Sometimes more dead, sometimes more alive, but always a bit of both.”

He hummed and leaned back, and Timothy Drake leaned forward. “How does that work? You said genetically, but how are you moving, ruling a kingdom if you always have one foot out the door?” Damian’s spice turned a little hot, but not in a good way the way it did when they were kissing. He rubbed his thumb in circles on his hips, and it lessened the scent.

“Let us not hound my future mate,” Damian scolded, and his face flushed. “Daniel, you must’ve came here for a reason, yes?” Damian leaned a little out of his chair, and Danny did too. “That I did!” He pulled the box out of his blazer and presented it to him, “I wanted to see if you’d like to go on our first romantic outing, as well as give you another gift. It will connect to the crown you choose, as well as your veil if you’d like to wear one.”

Someone choked, and he heard the girls and Dick ‘aww’ as Damian blushed. Caramel and brown sugar wrapped around in, and he let his own scent do the same. Together, they smelled like a cup of coffee in a thunderstorm, a warm hug in autumn, the kitchen during the holidays. Damian took the box and gently undid the ribbon, smoothly wrapping it around his wrist before opening the box. He gasped, and Danny remembered he didn’t check where the gems were from.

Under the normal light they looked very out of this world. They seemed to look like heat waves, or the lines you’d see on an old box TV. Damian tilted the back center gem back and forth, and the color changed, the middle of it seemed to split into an eye—oh. Oh! He knew what they were! Oh thank the ancients, this was the best mistake he could’ve made!

Damian leaned back quickly as the waves came off the gem in a smooth streak, similar to his tail when he flew. It circled his shoulders and then expanded, solidifying into a white cat with four tails. Its eyes were a vibrant purple, and it didn’t seem to have fur but its skin was sleek and metallic. Like an Egyptian cat but without the wrinkles. It meowed and made some clicking sounds, sniffing Damian’s cheek before relaxing on his shoulders. Its mouth was filled with sharp teeth and a black tongue.

Someone muttered ‘oh my god’ and the giggling and ‘aww’ing increased. All good things. Damian’s eyes were wide as he traced a finger along the cats back, and it liked it if it’s purring was anything to go by. “This is a cat from Dimension AB12-00! Because of this Dimensions number everything in it is usually numbered in some way. This cat was the fourth born in its litter, as you can tell from the tail. They like to hide in shiny things. I believe it’s siblings are in the other three gems, though they’ve been incredibly shy so I don’t truly know.”

That was a bit of a lie, he could sense them a little bit, but that just made everything better! Damian looked overjoyed, cooing over the cat as it crawled into his lap and sniffed around. “Oh, she’s beautiful, what is her name?” “You can choose. They do not have one.” He let her sniff his fingers, and chucked lightly as she affectionately bit them. “I found them in the treasury, and as far as I know they’ve been in there for about twenty thousand years. At this point they’re AB12-00’s version of a Saber Tooth Tiger.”

The other cats were coming out. The one in the left kept coming out then going back in, and the one in the front teardrop bounced out and onto Damian’s lap. This one had only one tail, and it meowed and pawed Damian’s chest for attention. He laughed and scratched it behind the ear. As he did he leaned forward, put his hand around Danny’s neck and pulled him forward to kiss him. Danny blinked for a moment before kissing back.

It was just as wonderful as last time. The whole world seemed to shrink until they were the only thing that existed, as if they’d become one. But he didn’t get to enjoy it like he wanted because someone loudly cleared their throat. Damian pulled away quickly, his scent embarrassed and his face bright red. It was cute. He glanced to the table and had to stop himself from shrinking.

That was definitely Batman glaring at him. He had this odd shadow over his face, and it actually looked like a mask. “Wow,” Tim teased, “didn’t know you knew how to do that!” They all laughed as Damian’s face became redder, and he couldn’t help but give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m very glad you like it. I know you’ll be a wonderful owner for them.” Damian huffed, but his scent showed he was very happy.

The two cats seemed very tired, probably because they’d been in the gem for so long they weren’t used to this much movement. Damian was sad to see them go, so Danny proposed that they set up a schedule to get the cats used to being outside the gem. “Where would you like to go for our outing? You can choose any time, any place, and I will find it for you. I have access to it all.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Where would you like to go? I wish to learn more about your interests as you have for mine.” Oh that was sweet. He could take him anywhere in the multiverse he wanted, and Damian wanted to know more about him. He felt his face heat up, and took Damian’s hand. “Well, I love space! If you'd like, I could take you to my favorite planets in this dimension. There’s a planet a few galaxies away called Elma, and it’s inhabited completely by crystals!”

Danny rambled about Elma, detailing the crystal coral reefs and the glass islands and the crystallized sulfur and ozone in the atmosphere that protected the planet from invaders and painted the surface in sun catching rays. He waved his hands around and used ice to create the cris-cross pattern they froze in and the colored crystalline that made constellations that could only be seen on this planet.

“Ah! I apologize!” He said sheepishly, fiddling with his hair, “I did not mean to take over the conversation. But I could tell you more on Elma, if you’d like. I could take you to the Riverbend Festival!” Damian’s scent was so sweet and sugary, and he wanted to drown in it. “Do not apologize! You are so passionate, Daniel, the way your eyes shine as you detail the things you love is divine! I would love to see the festival! Is there anything I should wear for the weather, the activities and the like?”

They would be walking a lot, it would be chilly but not too cold, and something smooth he could give a crystallized texture to help them blend in since off-planet outsiders were basically impossible. Damian nodded, gave him a small kiss which almost made him explode, and stood and rushed off. On instinct Danny stood as well, and was left there with his future mates family.

“Damian, wait! Lemme help!” Stephane called, and her and Cassandra rushed off after him. Ok, that was two less interrogators. He must’ve looked a little nervous because Dick smiled and said, “Don’t worry, we don’t bite.” Danny laughed with him, and tried not to look at Bruce. “Your taking him off planet? Into another galaxy? What’s the point of that? You could take him anywhere on Earth.”

Dicks smile tightened, and Jason not-so-subtlety kicked Bruce. “I, for one, approve. I sorta want to threaten you, but I get the feeling that wouldn’t work on you.” Danny laughed. “Yes, I don’t tend to get actually scared anymore. One of my Council members is the personification of fear, and after looking him in the eye multiple times a day nothing fazes me.”

“And to answer Bruce’s questions, I want to show Damian the reaches his rule will go if he becomes my queen. Death goes far beyond this Dimension, and I pride myself on being able to at least slightly connect with every world and culture I come into contact with. I don’t mind if Damian does not wish to do that, but I want to see if he can. I believe he can.”

Bruce didn’t look any happier. If anything he seemed to be pouting now, and his scent was sour and unpleasant. Tim also had an odd sort of look on his face. “How do you plan to get onto Emla if you know nothing can enter the atmosphere?” Bruce raised up—“By teleportation. I can turn intangible as well.” — and sunk back into his chair. Jason snorted. “I’d like to get to know you more!” Barbara said suddenly. She’d been silent the whole time, watching him, and he’d honestly forgotten she was there.

“There’s going to be a Gala on the twenty-third, two weeks from today, to announce Jason and his mates child. Knowing how forward Damian is and how forward you seem to be, I’d assume by that time you’ll be sure that your going to become mates, correct?” Danny shook off his shock and nodded. “Yes, I’m already sure. But by that time we’ll have the wedding planned out, I’d hope.” Her smile grew. “Then would you like to come as Damian’s future mate? I think he’d love to flaunt you to everyone.”

“That I would.” At Damian’s voice he turned, and—

Wow.

Holy shit. Oh my ancients he’s so beautiful. He’s perfect. He’s never seen someone so stunning. Damian was wearing a dark green button up with black dress pants and shoes, with the circlet crown. It fit him perfectly. It was all tight and form fitting, and it seemed like his scent was a thousand times stronger and sweeter.

His mouth gaped like a fishes for a moment, and it made him realize Damian had come right up to him. He closed his mouth with a snap, reattached his tongue, and regained his senses. “I’ve never seen anyone or thing as mesmerizing as you.” He smoothly took Damian’s hand and kissed it. Damian’s face was a nice red, and he heard the girls giggling. Damian was wearing the ring. It made him purr louder.

Wait, purr? Oh FUCK he was purring. He quickly tried to stop but it didn’t work. It only made it stutter, and he cleared his throat. “Ah….Apologies.” He laughed awkwardly, and subtly tried to hit his chest. It didn’t work. Thankfully, for some reason, Damian looked as if he was in love. “I was unaware you could make sounds such as this,” Damian came closer, almost chest to chest, and tilted his head back to expose some of his neck.

“It’s attractive.” His braid short circuited. He swallowed, tracing the curve of Damian’s collarbone with his eyes. He imagined kissing along his shoulder, tracing his fingers down his spine, and biting—he bit his tongue off again. A growl had been building in his throat, but he knew Bruce would take it as a threat.

He cleared his throat. Damian looked very pleased with his reaction, and he leaned closer, inviting him to leave a mark. He really, really wanted to. But Bruce’s scent was getting more and more hostile, so he held himself back. “Ha…thank you, my love. Are you ready?” Damian bid everyone goodbye, and Danny used the Ring of Rage to open a portal to Elma.

“Oh my gooooooddd!!!” Dick cheered, grabbing Jason and rocking him back and forth. “I told you!! I told you!! Oh my god he’s even perfecter than I thought!!” Jason laughed and Bruce huffed. Tim laughed and the room was quickly filled with excited chatter and laughter.

“You should’ve seen him!” Steph squealed, “He was so nervous and exited and he smiled at me! He smiled and hugged me and said thank you so much!!” Cass giggled and clapped her hands, “Very happy! Very good! Hopeful!” “King of the goddammed afterlife man,” Jason chuckled “how the hell’d he do that?”

“You’re just jealous,” Tim poured himself more coffee but quickly stopped when Dick pulled him into a hug. “Anyone would be!” Jason retorted as he was also pulled into the hug. “This went awesomely!” Dick laughed, “Barbara, good job remembering the Gala! Oh I hope he brings his sister next time. Maybe we can meet his parents too!”

Alfred came around and took the chair Daniel had been seated in. “I look forward to seeing them dance.” He smiled at his grandchildren, and accepted Cass’s hug. Bruce made a ‘hmf’ noise, and Jason rolled his eyes. “Geez old man, what’s the problem now? Too touchy for your taste?” Barbara snorted. “He probably wasn’t respectful enough,” They both laughed as Bruce’s sulking increased.

“I just think it’s suspicious is all,” they groaned, “No, no, listen; what are the chances the king of the afterlife wants to marry the prince of the League of Assassins after their first meeting? What if he wants access to the Lazarus Pits?” Barbara rolled her eyes. “Why would the king of the dead want to bring people back to life? He’d be losing citizens.”

“He could be angry about that!” Jason sighed and banged his head on the table. “Maybe he’s only pretending to court Damian, as revenge! Regardless we need to be careful, we don’t know what he’s capable of.” Jason tried to hit his head again but was stopped by Dick. “Your just upset Damian’s getting courted. Relax, if this was for revenge why would he give Damian four cats?”

Barbara snorted, “Four saber tooth tigers!” And they laughed. Bruce huffed again. “Oh, and that second gift? It’ll attach to his veil or crown??” Steph fell into her chair with a dreamy sigh. “Did I tell you guys the ring was his mom’s wedding ring? It isn’t just an otherworldly ring?” The whole room seemed to gasp. “Master Dick!” Alfred scolded playfully, “That is not a detail you keep to yourself! What do you think of that, Master Bruce?” The room laughed. Bruce huffed sulkier.

“We still need to be careful.” “And we will.” Cass said firmly. “But. We will not deny him this happiness. He’s very hopeful. Very happy.” Tim chuckled as he took a sip of his coffee. “More than happy, I’d say. He kissed him in front of us! And the first thing Daniel said? ‘I have a piece of my souls dedicated to you’? Whoo!” He fanned himself, and the table laughed. “You could see it in the way he looked at him! That man, this literal king, looked like a lovesick puppy!”

“Imagine their wedding,” Jason continued dramatically, “not just a royal wedding but a union of the living and dead. Imagine the scandal, the scene!” Alfred patted Jason’s shoulder. “This is not one of our books, by boy. But,” he went on as the table laughed again, “I believe he would find it most helpful if we only assisted in the wedding when asked to, no?” There was a murmur of agreement, and Bruce once again huffed. Alfred gave him a look, and finally he conceded, “Alright, I’ll allow it. But we still need to be careful.” Immediately the table launched into discussion, and Bruce was forced to listen to the excitement of his youngest sons wedding.

[cozycryptidcorner]

you are six years old. your mom has recently married an important labor foreman who oversees oil drilling off the gulf of mexico. at first, not a lot of things change. the labor foreman is nice, he is well respected by his peers, and your mom is relatively the same prior to meeting him.

a year goes by and she is pregnant with your sister. the labor foreman has talked to her a lot about his job and the history of oil drilling. your mom slowly develops an interest in oil, spurred on by his stories and the economic impact it has on the economy.

she sits in a rocking chair, belly heavy with child, reading a book on the benefits of oil drilling. you are now seven, she brings you to the beach twice a week to look at the hazy, blurry shape of the off shore rig, and you can barely make it out in the waving heat. the sun is hot and the sand gets in your eyes, and every time you try to play in the water, your mom silently adds 15 minutes of corner time.

corner time is where you stand facing the kitchen corner. your mom hasn't yet seen the appeal of corporal punishment. you are often given a choice during this time; fifteen minutes of corner time for one spanking. you often accumulate hours of corner time and accept spanking because it's over faster.

your sister is born, and now your mom is pregnant with your brother. your foreman stepfather is away on his oil rig. you haven't been to school since kindergarten. at first it was fine, you learn penmanship and phonics and draw a lot, but now she is having you read on oil.

there are a lot of books on oil for children. your mom has completely orientated your entire education on the production, history, science, and economic affects of oil. the only escape you have from oil are the books you are allowed to check out from a library, which your mom will thoroughly look through to ensure it isn't oil-negative.

your brother is born and your foreman father promotes up in the company, but you must move. you go to a place where oil... isn't as praised as it was in your last home. there are people who look up to it, and yet others who don't approve of it as much. all throughout this, you are schooled at home, safe from outside judgement. your mom and the books she buys tell you that other people might judge you for your allegiance to oil drilling, and you must remain strong.

another baby and another home later, you are beginning to doubt the benefits of oil. the people you are around, though, love oil, your mom does not associate with people who don't. but everyone in your life warns you that oil is the only way to bring life to america, that you would betray everything your family believes in if you every think of an energy source outside of oil. that your step-father, who works very hard, shouldn't be disappointed in the company you keep and media you consume.

you start spending a lot of time in a friend's house. there is an oil rig in their basement, slowly pumping up wretched black sludge. your mother approves of the relationship, which you've stopped caring about. a lot of your fights are about her next three pregnancies, how you read books she doesn't like, and your general disrespect of your foreman step-father. you don't have the words to fully rebel.

one night at a friend's house, you agree to help a family member with their in-basement rig. the machine misfires and takes your entire arm off with it.

no one will acknowledge your injury. out of necessity, you don't either. every single conference about oil rigging has taught you that accidents are entirely the individual's fault, and you don't want to experience blame. your mom brings up an apprenticeship at the fossil fuels industry, but you are without purpose and don't know what to do with your life.

you don't have an arm. it will not grow back. you step further and further away from the family business of oil rigging. your mom is beside herself but won't force you to participate because you are too grown to put up an unnoticeable fight.

by the time you are in college, you are fully divorced from any energy industry. there are folks who work from coal plants that say oil is horrible, of course your arm was ripped off. but you should give them a try! except there are so many people leaving coal plants with missing limbs.

there are people who gain their energy from burning wood who tell you that you were led astray, that your arm was intended to be removed in order to join them. you can't abide by that harmful destiny, so you continue on.

there are people who use the sun for fuel, and they say that the coal, wood, and oil burners are liars and apostates. they say that the sun is the only way to create energy, and that you were misled. they want you to join them, but struggle to harvest energy. a part of you craves the community and acceptance, but your arm is still missing. are any of their limbs missing? at this point, you can't tell.

you are at a loss. maybe disappearing into a forest is the best way to go. but there is work to be done.

even if you can't regrow your arm, you can prevent others from losing their limbs.

[npcemi]

The long road of how starting a fight with superman over clone parenting eventually lead to Danny Phantom become God Chapter 8-10 Kidnapings and Plane rides

Link to master post

AO3

Dani, Sam, Tucker, Vlad, and Dani sat in the back section of one of Bruce's larger private jets. In his seat, the eldest halfa sat grumbling to himself, “What was that Vlad?” Danny asked...

“I said I could have at least flown in my own private jet!” Vlad nearly shouted.

“Do you have any idea how much fossil fuels that use, Do you have any Idea what that does to the earth, I can hear the green actively dying, I can hear the anguished cries from the spirits of dead flora, you’re lucky we’re using even one jet!” Sam said, signs of obsession starting to filter into her personality.

“Yes mom!” Vlad drawled being as sarcastic as possible. Dani went up to Tucker, “Father I’m tired can you make a bed.” Tucker used the scarab scepter to turn a group of seats into two California king mattresses pushed together.

“Okay, you all know the drill,” Tucker said.

“Yeah no for sure, one sec, Sam?”Danny said as Sam got up from her seat and grabbed some blankets from one of her carry-on suitcases.

“Danielle really,” Vlad asked only for Dani to look at him with supernaturally large puppy dog eyes.

“Fine.”

“Yay you’re the best.” She said as she dragged the last of her family to the bed when three flashes of light filled the room.

_____________________________________________________________________

“Babs, how many is it this time? Five, I don't think any of us.… Don’t get me wrong, I love Cass and Duke, but…” Jason turned to look Bruce directly in the eye, “I think there is a legal limit to how many kids you can adopt.”

“In my defense, I am not adopting any of them.” He replied,

“So they belong to the other billionaire we for some reason have to bring to Gotham.” Jason snarked, Jazz took the moment to mention that technically Vlad was Danny’s ‘son’. The crime lord looked like he was about to say something, stopped, tried to start again, and gave up. Barb began giggling that same harmonious laughter Jazz was beginning to enjoy greatly.

“Look, I gotta piss,” Jason said getting up to use the bathroom which was on the other end of the plane, just past the now-sleeping phantoms. He went to open the door and fell back screaming, “What in the HP Lovecraft is that?”

Jazz and Barb went over to help and saw what frightened the large man. There was a bed with several of the sleeping phantom family. The bed itself was guarded by what appeared to be green-glowing ghost jackals. The bed was lined with roses, and circling around the bed were two gyroscopic wheels covered in half-lidded eyes. In the bed were Sam, Tucker, Some kind of blue vampire, a small cat-like Lamia with white fur, and curling around all of the beings protectively was a lamia, a man thing with a giant flaming hole in its chest with massive wings that also had half-lidded eyes. If one listened closely they could hear three distinct pitches of cat-like purrs.

“Aww, they look so cute.” Jazz cooed softly before shutting

“Wha…what…cute…what... Just who are we flying into Gotham?” Jason stuttered, the eldest Fenton sister turned to look at Jason sympathetically, eyes soft.

“My brother, his partners, and children. Sorry, when they do Danielle asks for the cuddle pile they all like to be in their ghost forms, it’s a security thing.”

“You expect me to believe those are the same kids, the same Wayne adoption bait we picked up in Illinois?” He asked, still breathing heavily from the previous scare.

“Yes,” Barb and Bruce said.

“Yeah, The vampire-looking one is Plasmius or Vlad Masters as you know him aka Danny’s second child (he’s adopted), The big one is Danny, you know Sam and Tucker, and the little one doing her best to imitate her daddy is Danielle. The wheels are actually an extension of her core. She’s a spirit of safe travels and a patroness for the mirror born. Why do you think this flight has gone so smoothly?” Jazz said with a smile on her face which Barb found contagious and mirrored her smile.

“So we aren’t in a plane with biblically accurate angels?” Jason joked feeling a bit calmer now.

“Well that’s a little racist, Vlad is best described as an Upiór, and Danny and Danielle are now more classed as primordial spirits being more embodiments of a concept rather than something as mundane as those lesser spirits in a myth called angels, which are really no different than gods like Zeus. If you have to-- you can call them completely different species.” Jazz attempted to tease but she got caught up in an info dump. She went red at the embarrassment but Barb rubbed her hand reassuringly.

“I’m guessing I won’t be able to go to the bathroom then?” Jason said, peering through the doorway at the multitude of half-lidded eyes daring him to interrupt the family’s sleep.

“Probably not….”

“It’s fine, I can sneak a leak after we land, it's a bit of a drive from the airport to the mansion.”

It was in fact, not fine. As soon as they landed a bunch of goons dressed and were on the runway getting ready to board the plane. Danny, Dani, and Vlad were about to jump into action and phase through when Danny spotted a green stick note on the back of one of the goons that went unnoticed by the rest of the crew.

“Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me!” He said as Vlad, who was cracking his neck getting ready for the fight, asked him what the issue could be. Danny pointed out the plane window at the note.

“Butter biscuits, Clockwork better have a point to all of this…” Vlad muttered as the Phantoms detransformed. Danny had his sister and partners hide. The goons were rather efficient having somehow caught Jason mid bathroom break and locked him in there; barb wasn’t much of a threat at that moment. The goons, thinking Dani and Danny were Wayne children took them, Bruce, and got a bonus billionaire in Vlad as hostages. They had sacks thrown over their heads and drove off.

About fifteen minutes later they were all tied to chairs and the sacks on their heads ripped off to reveal the Riddler and Joker. Riddler with his cane and Joker with a crowbar. Danny was about to go after the clown, it was a clown and it was his right.

“Daniel!” Vlad reminded him of what Clockwork had said in his note. Danny relaxed against his ropes and muttered, "it wouldn’t be worth it anyway."

“What was that?” Joker asked irritated.

“He said that it wouldn't be worth it to beat your butt, I mean where did you two get your costumes spirit Halloween?” Dani laughed

“Dani question mark guy's outfit is clearly self-made, no self-respecting clothes designer would make an outfit covered in question marks. Everyone knows the rule about one tasteful symbol.” Vlad snorted.

“Well, Joker’s outfit is so clearly off the rack,” Danny said as the two supervillains were getting more irritated. Joker took the time to hit Danny with the crowbar causing Bruce to flinch.

“Clearly the only thing funny about you is your outfit.” Danny spat back.

“Maybe I can recommend you two a better tailor,” Vlad smirked.

“No helping supervillains remember you’re reformed.” Danny chided, Vlad rolled his eyes and replied, “They don’t even have powers, I’d hardly call them super anything.”

One of the goons having enough and trying to impress his bosses picked Dani up in an aggressive manner, “Yea well what if I harm the little princess over here!” He growled. He went to look at Dani, whom he was expecting to see a frightened little girl. He in fact was looking into pitch-black eyes and a literal shark tooth grin.

“Hi,” The Goon stumbled back dropping her chair, dropping back to the ground.

“Oof!”

“D…De…Dem...Demon!” He sputtered out crawling away. Dani tilted her head to the side, her eyes the normal blue for everyone to see.

“That’s a little racist.” She said in a sweet innocent voice.

“Yeah man, just because you see something spooky doesn’t mean it’s a demon,” Danny said,

“Yeah, it could be a ghost.” Dani snickered,

“Or a vampire!” Danny nudged Vlad who scowled,

“Bruce, help, we’re surrounded by juvenile morons,” Vlad complained only for Bruce to say he understood his pain. Joker scowled, “Where are the bats, they should be by now right?”

“I don’t know, do I look like the master of time?” Riddler snarked back,

“No,” Dani, Danny, and Vlad all said automatically.

“You know the master of time?” Bruce asked only for Danny to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Right.”

“He doesn’t even have the staff!” Dani said,

“Or the Scar.” Danny nodded,

“Or speak in inane cryptic riddles.” Vlad also nodded.

“Hey, I speak riddles!” The riddler interjected as Danny laughed,

“Your riddles come from the first five search results on Google!” Riddler stormed out of the room.

“Unless you all want to end up in a shallow grave.” Joker threatened, however, he did not get the response he expected.

“Really, I get a grave!?” Dani grinned, Danny raised his hand not realizing he just phased it out of the ropes, “While you’re handing out graves.”

“I, too, would not be opposed…” Vlad said surprisingly sheepishly. The Joker looked directly at Bruce giving him a ‘what the fuck’ look. This is not how this normally goes,

“Any clue on when the bats or birds will get here?” The clown said, still looking directly at Bruce.

“I’m not sure what’s holding them up,” Bruce said as Joker stormed out of the room.

“I guess that’s a no on the graves,” Vlad said trying not to sound disappointed.

“I don’t get a grave?” Danielle started tearing up, so Danny phased through the ropes and gave her a hug. Vlad also Phases out of his bindings and puts a reassuring hand on Danielle's back and gently rubs. Bruce silently was wondering what his life became.

____________________________________________________________________________________

“What do you mean all of the bat vehicles, planes, and boats are out of gas!?” Jason screamed.

“It's like I said, Todd!” The voice from off-screen on Jason’s phone replied.

“And the EVs?”

“No charge, We just got gas, we’re on our way with your gear,” Tim said,

“Just hurry up.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

Danielle was still crying when Danny had an Idea.

“Hey Dani, since it looks like this is a self-rescue, how about you fight the bad guys.” Dani looked at her father skeptically.

“You and Vlad won't interfere?”

“You remember how to seal souls into the ghost ice right?” Dani nodded at his question.

“Then yep, this will be one hundred percent on your own, just remember to grab the clown’s soul.” He said forming a crystal of ghost ice.

“Yep, I remember what Papa wrote in the note, we need it as a gift for the revenant.” She nodded and transformed.

_______________________________________________________________________________

That same night on a rooftop in Metropolis Superman flew down to find a bunch of men in white suits by a big “S” signal light.

“A signal is more Batman’s thing.” He said,

“Well, this was the best way to get a hold of you.”

“What do you want?” The man of steel asked, The agents went on to say they knew about his fight against a phantom and were offering to help develop weapons so he could fight the ghost menace better. It would take some time but they could do it. That made sense so he agreed. Especially after they told him phantom attacked a random family in Illinois and rendered the parents believe they were three years old and kidnaped or killed their two kids and two of their son’s friends. Just as he was about to fly off, they mentioned one more thing,

“We were working with the Fentons at the time, and they managed to capture Phantom for a bit, however, according to them he is now taking the form of a small girl with white hair. “ They pulled out a tablet and showed a video of a small girl with white hair, green eyes, and the Phantom symbol on a black hazmat suit. Superman thanked them for the info and went patrol Metropolis.

Jason, Barb, Sam, Tucker, Tim, and Damian were all gearing up getting ready to look for where the rest of the Phantoms and Bruce were located. Barb was using a laptop to go over possible locations. However, Tim noticed Sam, Tucker, and Jazz were a little too calm.

“Danny get kidnaped often?” he asked.

“Why do you ask?’ Sam snapped.

“You all seem awfully calm…” Tim accused. Jason put a hand on his shoulder and told him to let it go, “No, Bruce said these kids and one of the scummiest billionaires alive were the highest priority and I don’t get why!?”

“Wow, and I thought Dash had anger issues.” They all turned to see fourteen-year-old Danny Fenton.

“Danny!” Jazz, Sam, and Tucker went and hugged him,

“Hey guys”’ He smiled as Tim and Jason stood in surprise and their jaws on the floor.

“Sooo, how’s the kidnapping going?” Jazz sing songed.

“Pretty good, got to make fun of this clown and some dude with a question mark kink. Not too happy about that last bit. Danielle is a little young to be exposed to some dude running around in a skintight leotard with a boner.” Danny frowned before smiling again, “But she did get to use scary eyes on some goon…” He was cut off by some shorter-than-danny spiky-haired kid dressed like a traffic light bursting through red robin and Red Hood.

“How are you here?” The kid demanded.

“I’m the ancient of space kid, anywhere there is the concept of space, or space itself I or a copy of myself can be.” The Kid scowled,

“So on top of teleportation, super strength, energy beams, sonic attacks, summoning stars, black holes, and some kind of eldritch form, are you basically omnipresent?”

“No, I won't be omnipresent until I die fully, something about the human body not being able to properly contain that much ectoplasm.” all three bats looked at him like he was insane, he was just glad they didn't need to go over all of his abilities because they didn't even really scuff the surface.

“Anyway I gotta get going, Vlad and I are letting Danielle beat these so-called supervillains to a pulp, oh, and Revenant we’ll have a present for you when you meet us at the warehouse,” Danny said as he faded out of existence. Barb started typing on her laptop knowing they were at a warehouse and there were only a few that matched the needs of the kidnapers and was listed as taking on some of the villain forums.

“So he let himself get kidnaped?” Tim asked.

“Yes….” Sam said unable to make eye contact.

“Why?”

“The ways of the ancients are all-knowing and mysterious,” Sam said,

“There’s no point in fighting it, just stand by, watch, and trust the process .” Tucker continued.

“And everything will be as it should.” Jazz finished.

“Soooo, you have no idea,” Jason said,

“Nope,” the three liminals of the phantom family replied.

____________________________________________________________________________________

The Joker and the Riddler were in another room wondering who the hell they just kidnapped. Bruce was one thing. His “secret” identity wasn’t much of a secret. No one cared, it was part of the game. Joker knew that better than anybody. Why ruin the fun, which is exactly what these three additional hostages were doing? They didn't behave right. If he was being honest it was kind of interesting.

“Having fun Jack?” The joker heard a soft gentle female voice call out to him. They didn’t hire any female goons. He turned to see a young, attractive, slim woman of average height in her early to mid-20s. She has very pale skin, dark eyes, long jet-black hair, and has an Eye of Horus painted under one of her eyes. She was dressed like an 80’s Goth Rocker and had a large ankh pendant.

“Who are you?”

“You know who I am, Jackson William Napier.” His eyes went wide at the name he hadn’t used in almost two decades.

“You okay?” Riddler asked Joker, clearly unable to see the woman.

“Yes,” Joker snapped, throwing a chair at the riddler.

“Relax, I am not here for you today.” The woman smiled.

“Then why are you here?” The clown prince of crime’s eyes narrowed.

“Why don't we go say hi to our friends in the other room.” She gestured toward the main section of the warehouse. He yelled for the Riddler to follow him. When they made it to the large warehouse space he noticed that the little girl was missing. He was about to demand where she was when a large voice boomed its way through the space, he nearly needed to cover his ears.

“Do not be afraid, for behold, I am a merciful spirit. Lay down your weapons and surrender and you will remain unharmed.” He turned his head upward to look in the direction of the voice and saw the unbelievable.

The girl they had kidnaped was floating mid-air surrounded by gyroscopic wheels covered in eyes. Her hair was now snow white. She wore pure white Grecian armor. She had two wings that looked like they were made of the night sky. A silver tiara that held a gem the color of Pluto floated above her head.

The look on her face seemed disappointed, “Dad my shadows aren’t eating anything yet!” She whined, surprisingly still childish.

“That will happen when you get older, honey you’re still under a millennium old..” The teenage boy said with a surprisingly proud grin.

He looked to see all the goons and Riddler bowing to whatever that thing was,

“Nygma what the hell.”

“I signed up to fight Batman and his Flock, not whatever the fuck that is!”

Joker scowled and saw the pale black-haired woman from earlier, walk over to one of the goons and help him up. She said something to him before the goon loudly complained, “I only did this because my wife just got fired and we need the extra income, what’s going to happen to them now?” The woman turned to look at the teenage boy they had kidnapped, “Your Highness?” The boy looked at her and the goon. “Everything will work out, you know that…” Was his reply to the woman who frowned slightly, “You are far too often in the presence of Time.”

“You should visit, he says he gets lonely, I can’t be the only one to keep him entertained.” The boy smiled.

“Perhaps I will consider the request. It has been a while since I have visited Time. Maybe I should visit him.” The woman said as she and the goon calmly walked out of the warehouse. Joker turned to look back at the goons who still bowed, except for one.

The Goon that had walked out with that woman, was still there in the room, dead on the floor.

“So are we going to stand around all day or are we going to fight?” The childish voice said in the Joker’s ear before he was launched across the warehouse with a swift kick to the gut.

Where did she come from was all he could think as he saw the white-haired girl calmly walking towards him. He didn't take this sitting down like some dog. He threw a joker grenade at the girl who blocked and redirected it back at him with one of her wings. He jumped out of the way, picking up the crowbar he dropped along the way.

“You aren’t the first kid I’ve killed in this warehouse and you won't be the last!” He growled, swinging his crowbar only for Dani to slip out of the way and push him into a wall, he used his acid flower. It was a direct hit, however, the now skeletal-faced girl was still coming after him. She brought her arm up and summoned an Xiphos that looked like it was going to crumble apart. It was black with red cracks that radiated heat. He barely dodged the slash and rolled out of the way only for the room to become momentarily filled with fire.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Now in Gotham Propper, the rescue crew was still having trouble locating everyone who was abducted. Barb, now in her Batgirl exoskeleton, was still on her tablet working overtime. However, their prayers were answered when a massive crescent of fire exploded out of the sides of one of the warehouses dissipating into the sky. Everyone had a flat expression.

“I’m guessing they’re at that building,” Robin said.

“Yep.” Everyone responded.

“Of course, it has to be that warehouse,” Redhood said as the remaining members of the Phantom family noticed the rise in his ectoplasm levels. They asked if he was okay.

“No, but I’ll live.”

“Is it the Pits?” Red Robin asked.

“Yeah…”

“Pits, you mean the rise in his ecto plasma levels?” Jazz asked.

“What?” Tim and Jason asked.

“You’re liminal, you have high levels of ectoplasm. I’d say you're death-leaning like us.” Sam said as Jason got in her face only to feel Jazz pull him away.

“Look, I get that for some reason that warehouse is triggering some kind of revenge obsession and your emotions are high, but if you’re going to be any help you need to regulate your emotions.” She said,

“RedHood control his emotions?” Batgirl snorted.

“What do you mean?” Tim cut in, Jazz sighed not wanting to have this conversation right now, however, it looked like things on her brother's end were going fine so she decided it was best to explain. She turned to Jason,

“You’re a death-leaning liminal. Like Sam, Tucker, and I. You have strong ghostly attributes that will leak into your physicality as well as your mentality. You have an obsession centered around revenge and justice. I know this because my own obsession with knowing, understanding, and helping people makes me a really strong empath.

For you, I'm assuming better stealth skills, enhanced durability, enhanced speed, strength, etc. However, this also means any emotion you experience is multiplied by a factor of a thousand or more. Meaning if you don’t work through any issues or don't regulate your emotions you may find them controlling you in a way. “

“Are you talking about the Pit madness?” Jason asked.

“Pit madness? What, no, there is no madness. You just fucking need therapy!” Jazz exasperated to a stunned group of bats and birds.

“Let's get going before Danielle burns down Gotham,” Sam said, ushering Tucker into the assault vehicle, he was followed by Red Robin, Robin, Jason who was basically pushed in by Sam, And finally Bat Girl who led Jazz into the vehicle hand in hand. Sam got in the driver's seat and sped off.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Joker barely dodged the slash and rolled out of the way only for the room to become momentarily filled with fire. When the fire dissipated there was a giant hole shaped like a half-moon in the warehouse that was glowing a molten orange. He started to run away only to run into Dani’s elbow. He fell to the ground covering his now bleeding nose. He noticed she no longer looked skeletal

He activated traps that would have attacked her from behind, but her existence blurred out of the way before reforming.

“What made you think all the eyes are just cosmetic?” She said pointing to the rotating wheels that never seemed to be in her way, but flowed effortlessly around her.

“You know, let's play another time, bye Brucie.” He said turning around and trying to run away only for Dani to run her hand right through his chest. She followed him to the ground and phased her arm out of him. He suddenly felt extremely cold.

Dani turned around to face her father, brother, and Bruce with a large grin declaring she was done. Danny untied Bruce and they all tied up the goons, riddler, and Joker. Who looks ready to kill Bruce,

“No metas in gotham?” The clown spat.

“They aren’t metas.” Bruce said.

“What the fuck are they?” Riddler demanded

Dani, Danny, and Vlad turned to face the Riddler and in sync said, “We’re ghosts.” And to the eyes of Edward Nygma, all three were for that moment in their true ghost forms. They all then walked over to the body of the goon who had died. Bruce mentioned something about a no-killing rule.

Danielle found a tarp and covered the body. She appeared to be looking at something and muttered something under her breath before looking at Bruce.

“It was his time, he would have had that heart attack whether we were here or not.” She said softly and continued,

“At least she was here to comfort and guide him, with the ectoplasm from all three of us, along with the abnormally high ambient levels he wouldn’t have moved on properly.”

“Who?” Joker asked, praying his suspicions were wrong.

“Death,” Danielle said, proving his suspicions depressingly correct.

“And how would you know he was meant to die, he was a good man!” One of the goons yelled.

“His name was in the ledger.” Dani covered her mouth as soon as she spoke. She knew only the ancients and the royal family knew about the ledger. For some reason unknown to her and her family she is also one of three spirits who can read the ledger. Something not even her father could do. When she asked Clockwork about it, until she was born only death and time could read it.

“Danielle!” Danny chided his daughter.

“You mortals will never speak another word of the ledger!” Danny’s voice echoed unnaturally loud through the warehouse and every mortal's soul. He looked at Bruce who looked like he had some questions,

“Let's just say for a reason only Ancients know why, she has some unique abilities when it comes to death.” Bruce nodded, understanding that was all he was going to get. All three stood around until Red Hood, Robin, Bat Girl, Red Robin, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz who was armed with a Fenton Anti-Creep Stick burst through the door. Only to be disappointed that the fight was over.

“How did she do?” Sam asked.

“Phantastic!” Danny grinned as Danielle leaped into Sam’s arms yelling “Mommy” as she nuzzled into the woman. The vigilantes called the GCPD for the pick up and they all got back into the assault vehicle. In the vehicle, Dani gave Redhood a purple green, and white crystal saying it was a gift from the royal family as thanks for letting them stay in the city.

“Thanks?” He said slowly.

“That’s one half of the Joker’s soul. Anything that Crystal experiences he will.” She smiled.

“So if I shoot it?”

“He will experience the pain of being shot.” Jason grinned at this, then frowned

“Does this mean as long as this crystal exists he will not be able to die?”

“No, while it may be impossible to destroy the crystal, it will crumble to dust when it is his time,” Dani reassured him.

“And when will that be?” Jason said, eyes glowing. Danielle looked to see her father glaring at her.

“I couldn’t tell you, just know basically that gives you the ability to torture him whenever you like. It’s like a supernatural stress ball.” She said as Bruce sighed in disappointment. Jason however grinned like a madman and began poking the crystal with one of his knives.

“I think I’m going to like this gift.”

[alex51324]

Eclipse Trip Report, Part 2

Sunday was an even more perfectly gorgeous day! We spent it exploring our home park. Here's the lake and swimming beach area:

Like most of the Pennsylvania state parks, the lake was formed by adding a little dam:

In addition to being eclipse weekend, it was also the opening weekend of trout season, so the park was pretty busy:

All the exploring made Sophie sleepy:

The campground was completely full Sunday night, and mostly full Saturday and Monday nights. Most of the people were in campers, but there were a few hardy souls braving it in tents. (The daytime weather was pleasant, but it got very cold at night!) We had people from all the neighboring states, and I also saw cars from Kentucky and Michigan.

Back at the campsite, I used my new cast-iron pot to make stew over the fire:

It's the kind with little legs so you can sit it right in the coals, but my fire ring had a big rock right in the middle, so I had to sit it on the rock and piled the fuel up around it.

The stew came out pretty well, though:

I made some of the flour-and-yogurt bread, too--I was going to try to do that over the fire, but with the rock situation, I ended up doing it over my bottle-gas camping stove instead, and then just put it over the fire to keep warm.

My dad showed up just in time for dinner, and then pretty much fell asleep right after. We hung extra blankets from the top bunks to provide some semblance of privacy, which is what my sister and I used to do growing up:

Eclipse day, we drove out to the park on Chautaqua. The weather was like this:

And pretty much stayed that way until about 15 minutes after totality. We got to the park pretty early--about 11, for totality at 3:17. I'd allowed plenty of time for traffic, which turned out to be completely unnecessary; there was less traffic than when I did my scouting trip on Saturday. There were maybe 3 or 4 cars already parked at the marina when we got there, so we went and got breakfast and then came back.

By the time the partiality started, the row of prime parking spaces right on the water had filled up:

(The orange cooler and chairs are our spot.) The sun occasionally peeked out, during partiality, which you could tell because of how everybody shouted and scrambled for their eclipse glasses. This band of clear sky toward the southeast steadily widened as we got closer to totality:

Which prompted lots of hopeful remarks on the theme of how the clear bit just might make it to where the sun was, in time. (Spoiler: it did not.)

During totality, I got one fraction of a second glimpse of about half of the sun's corona; other than that, the main thing to see was the 360 sunset effect, where the light from outside the path of totality was reflecting off the clouds. It was fairly neat:

We also heard some nighttime calls from birds on the lake. It was not as spectacular as a clear-sky eclipse would have been, but it was interesting and somewhat eerie.

As totality ended, you could see it getting lighter by the second, and the band at the street party on the opposite side of the lake started playing "Here Comes the Sun."

They could, perhaps, have tried playing it a little earlier, because about 15 minutes later, the sky started to clear, and we had an excellent view of the second half of partiality.

And there was still no traffic, and my dad had never seen Lake Erie, so we drove up there afterwards--we just did the Barcelona beach, because he was driving back that night. You could tell by the state of the trash cans and port-a-potties that they'd had a bit of a crowd, but by the time we got there--with totality not even entirely over--we had it nearly to ourselves:

And I found this piece of slate that I think might possibly be a fossil imprint of something:

A different angle of it:

I have no idea how you tell, but none of the other pieces of slate on the beach has a texture like that, so there must be something unusual about it. (Just in case anyone is wondering, rock collecting is listed on the beach's website as one of the activities you can do there. It is a licitly-obtained free-range rock.)

And that was about it for the trip! My dad went home that night, and Sophie and I followed the next morning. We did encounter some traffic on the way home, but it wasn't anything too drastic--about like how it gets in that area on Penn State football weekends.

Here are a few more cottage photos. This is the upper bunks and ceiling:

The view from my bunk:

The standing fan was provided; I've never had one of those in park lodgings before. The trash can is also fairly unusual.

Here's the bunks without all my stuff in the way:

The little ledge with the lamp is a nice touch, too--a lot of the time, all you get is a ceiling light.

Sophie says, this was fun, but it's time to go home now!

Exterior view in the sun:

And here's one of the park yurts:

I stayed in one of these once; they're kind of neat. The walls are made of several layers of tarpaulin-type material, on a wooden frame. There's a wooden floor inside, and they have electricity. The top of the roof is a see-through dome, which you can also raise up if you want ventilation.

Anyway, that was our eclipse trip! It was a good time and I'm glad I went, even though I didn't have the totality experience that I hoped for. (Now I'm trying to convince my dad we should try again in Iceland in 2026. His turn to pay, since I got this one!)

[cheeseraviolii]

THEY BUILT A CONDO ON YOUR TOMB THE EARTH IS ROTTED TO THE ROOT

A MARBLE CORPSE LIKE SISTER MOON

THEY GENTRIFIED THE HELLSCAPE DUDE!

AND CHARGED YOU EXTRA FOR THE VIEW

NOTHING'S TOO TABOO

FUCK THE MANY FOR THE FEW

GETTING SHITFACED OFF OF FOSSIL FUEL

SPIT IN THE FACE OF GOD WE'LL NEVER LOSE

[october-faye]

Partner Track. Episode 10. Season (and Series) Finale.

Show, I've only really known you for about a week. But I've really enjoyed making fun of you.

Ingrid is passed out on the couch, surrounded by ice cream containers, wine bottles and take out food. I don't know how long it's been since the Gala, but from the debris, I'd say it's been at least a few days.

Z Min calls her and demands to know when she found out that Fossil Fuel Ted was planning to shutter Green Tech. Ingrid admits she's known for a while. He tells her he hopes it was worth it and hangs up.

Jeff shows up. He reveals that it has in fact been two weeks since the party! That means she's been hiding away in stale sweatpants for two thirds of their official relationship. And he's still here?

Wow, maybe he isn't a complete fuckboy.

He tells her the mourning period is over. He's brought food and, in Ingrid's words, is pity cooking for her again. How does she keep finding men who will cook for her? Through in Jeff's defence, he did say he raised his younger siblings and did all the housework when he was a poor little urchin.

Jeff tells her that Tyler got an offer from another law firm. Jeff suggests Ingrid look for a job at a new firm too. Ingrid is angry that she and Tyler are being forced to start-over due to their old firm's bullshit. But Jeff is more of a pragmatist. Idealism doesn't pay the rent. Ingrid replies that the idea of how things should be is why she loves the law.

I wish we'd had conversations like this between them in the first half of the show instead of all that forced sexual tension and no substance. It would've built them up as foils to each other a lot more, paving the way for a stronger storyline.

Jeff tells her that he's leased a new apartment, making his move to New York permanent. She's honestly happy for him. They hug and kiss. He wishes her a Merry Christmas. Ingrid realises that it's Christmas Day and that she forgot to visit her family. Oop!

Opening credits.

Ingrid's parents are begging Lina not to join the circus. She corrects them that it's Cirque du Soleil. Ingrid arrives and they open presents. They've brought her a leather briefcase. They assume she's made partner, and Ingrid drops the news that she quit.

Her dad immediately asks her what she did wrong, and he orders her to apologise and get her job back. Ingrid fires back that she did nothing wrong. They are being way harsher on her than they just were with Lina and her circus dreams. Ingrid walks out. Her mother follows after giving her husband the stink-eye.

Ingrid's mother reminds her that money is security. But Ingrid resents that if she's not the best, her dad doesn't think she's good enough.

She sulks in her old room. Lina stops by and gives her a second present. She tells Ingrid that she remembers the first day Ingrid came home from Harvard. Lina was proud of her then and is proud of her now. Ingrid opens the present. It's a booklet with IOUs for everything Lina owes her big sister.

Lina reminds her that their parents made Ingrid write Lina's application letter to Princeton. It made Lina feel like she couldn't do anything on her own. They admit how envious they've been of each other's role in their family. Lina apologises for stealing the earrings. Ingrid apologises too. Aww.

Ingrid then glances at her graduation photograph featuring her, Tyler and Rachel. I'm so ready for their rift to be over!

Speaking of, Rachel is back at work. She learns that Paralegal Justin has been moved to another floor since Ingrid quit. Nooooooo!

At least his L-SAT book and headphones are still there! 😭

Rachel's old client Wanda Jean is back. She's dressed up and grown up, running her grandma's business like a boss. But her siblings are still trying to get the farm out from under her. Wanda hooked up with an employee who was wearing a goose costume at the time, and someone filmed it. She's being blackmailed with girl on goose porn!

Tyler is redecorating his new apartment. Ingrid texts again, asking to meet. He finally gives in.

Jeff (who's in Ingrid's phone as 'Murphy', which I kinda like because she's probably only called him Jeff a handful of times) wishes her luck and sends her a kiss emoji.

Tyler and Ingrid catch up. He fesses up to cheating on Anthony. Ingrid tells him Jeff is serious about her. Tyler says maybe he was wrong about him (*cough*probablynot!*cough*)

Ingrid apologises for what she did. Tyler tells her he didn't know who was worse - her or Dan.

The answer is Dan. Always. What Ingrid did wasn't cool, and it hurts worse when it's a friend, but come on!

But he starts to come around and forgives her. He tells her the system is the problem and that you can't take down the man.

Ingrid agrees but says 'maybe you can take down a man'.

Rachel is out hunting the blackmailer. She sees an advertisement for playwriting classes and her heart skips a beat. She moves on and hunts down the amateur goose porn pervert. After taking a photo with him, she threatens him with a lawsuit for the blackmail and misuse of the Granny Goose trademark with his costume.

In the end, she offers him $50K to pursue his dream of becoming a pilot and gives him the pep talk she needs for herself about not being afraid to chase your dreams.

Oh, Paralegal Justin. You may be (temporarily?) gone, but your goofy motivational spirit lives on.

[unofficial-sean]

I was baked and rewatched Knowing Better's video on the history of the cigarette industry in the U.S. and I kept seeing vivid, disturbing images of people in dark hospital rooms, alone, wheezing on respirators as lung cancer slowly ate away at their life, in my mind's eye. It was horrifying.

Now, any time I hear a mid-20th century advertisement man voice (you know the one) or any TV recording from the 50's-80's, all I can see is that room of death.

Entire decades are now reminders that businesses will sell people poison and fight tooth and nail to keep doing so. When the government mandated that, for every cigarette advertisement shown on TV, an anti-smoking ad would also have to be played, cigarette companies lobbied to have cigarette ads banned entirely. Why?:

1) the public would be further uninformed of the deadly hazards of smoking

2) smaller cigarette companies couldn't grow and further solidify the power of established brands

They didn't need to advertise their product anymore. They had entire generations addicted and created a lingering culture that pressures teens and adults into the habit. You wanna know when I first smoked? I was fucking 14. I hated it, though. I literally ran home to wash the taste out of my mouth with milk. 14!!

It's fucking disgusting. These companies threatened the family of a chemist who was hired by one of them to research and develop a "cleaner cigarette" after he tried to blow the whistle. Fucking mob shit.

Camel marketed their cigarettes as the "doctor's choice."

My sister still smokes. She does it in the backyard where the smoke drifts in through the only screened window in my room and exposes me to this shit. And my frogs. One day, she will be in that dark, lonely hospital room, wheezing with every breath. I've heard her raspy voice. I've heard her cough. These goons have cut my sister's life short, and maybe mine, too. Millions of people are being sold poison, still.

Fossil fuels are just like this, too. Don't underestimate the ruthless manipulation that comes with profit motivation. They suck the life from you with a god damn smile on their face and that friendly, low fidelity voice coming through the TV. These scum knew what their product did to their consumer's health and they kept going anyways and did all they could to keep them ignorant.

It's as angering as it is terrifying. These people aren't human. They're evil itself, if there ever was such an entity.

[aish-thinks]

Simplifying Sustainability

While I was gazing the sky from a bench in the park heard "akka" (sister), to my right was a tiny tot with her science book. Then came her mum complaining me that she flunked her science exam. The girl immediately said "I don't understand science". The furious science enthusiast in me took up the role of her teacher for the day. The topic was - SUSTAINABILITY.

Mind talk - 'How can I? Probably it will take a day or two for her to learn the spelling it self'. But I will and here I go.

Me - Sustainability is all about changes or adjustments we make to help look after our mother Earth.

She - What changes?

Me – How did you come to the park?

She – Mumma bought me on her bike.

Me – How does a bike run?

She – Petrol.

Me – Where does the petrol come from?

She – From the fuel station.

Me – Ha-ha… how do fuel stations have it?

Puzzled her...

Me – We extract petrol from the crude oils found under the ground called fossil fuels. Once you burn them, they won’t come back. If we use them uncontrollably then by the time you grow up, the entire petrol is finished. Then what will you do?

She – What will I do? (Sad and shocked)

Me – You should start saving from now. You should walk or cycle instead of bike. Likewise, there are few other changes we can make to support our planet Earth like- Rain water harvesting, recycling, repurposing, composting, planting trees, saving energy, using solar power, reduce plastic usage, use more public transportation, save water, maintain ecosystem balance, etc.

She – Now I understand susaiability!

Me – Its SUSTAINABILITY.

She – Yes. S-U-S-T-A-IN-ABI-LI-T-Y.

Me – Yes. Very good!!

As she saw her friends entering, she lands the book in her mum’s lap and run in the playground. I hope she understood sustainability at least a little.

[post-leffert]

Anonymous statement regarding the action done on the BNP bank in Barbès, Paris

Who still wants their power? Who is not hungry for revolt?

There were the first rallies, in the freezing air of January. February, we invaded the street. With heavy soles, under this unnatural winter sun, filled with our cries choked to the throat, There was the immeasurable rage, the weight of the breaths, the numb backs that straightened There was the fear. What could be more normal, who would want to lose an eye for a movement that dies in May, for a few words of contempt, for crumbs that get lost in the end of the month?

We do. We act from the bowels, from the galvanized tops of the city to the beaten earth of the countryside.

We act from the underground of the revolt, from the right side of history.

If the forces of law and order want to find us, they will have to follow forbidden paths.

There is no point in confronting the police head-on, it is better to learn how to escape them.

Let them come, we are not afraid. Let them enter our cosmos, where the outcasts and the banished camp.

When the police kill, who should we call?

Here, no disillusionment: the BNP is nothing if not the bank of a burning world. No. 1 in AGIOS and fossil fuels. 55 billion in 5 years in coal and diesel while the government is wringing out 10 billion. BNP is one of the main players in lobbying, contributing massively to climate change.

Their system is clear: it is they, the 1%, who devour this world against us, the 100 faces, who make it go round.

This is a call to our own: it is urgent to disobey. Their oppression will always be more painful. The end, ever closer, refuses to come and their world clings to it in an endless fall. It is up to us to put an end to it. We will not remain at the service of an all-powerful caste.

In the name of our brothers and sisters. In the name of those who can no longer endure. In the name of those who hold France upright while keeping their foreheads high, those, blessed be their courage, who stand in the way, who, caught in a present without a future, keep their eyes burning.

In the name of love. In the name of the living.

Since they are only interested in money, we strike where the money is. The only thing the powers that be won't despise is what we manage to make them pay for. It is time to take from them in tons what they refuse us in grams.

Calling all of us: the power is logistical, it resides in the infrastructure and the workers who make it work. No need to invade the Elysée or the parliament, they are only empty shells. Let's block the stations, the ports, the roundabouts, the tolls, cut the electricity, sabotage the distributors…

When one of our cries rises, 10,000 will rise with it. Come March, we end their world. So that ours can bloom.

[total-fandom-tr45h]

New AU time!!

So during my time without wifi, my gremlin brain aided by my sister came up with a new idea-

A Urinetown: The Musical inspired au.

What is Urinetown: The Musical? Well, obviously it's a musical! But most importantly, it's a musical where the base story takesplace in a world where the Earth has suffered from a 20 year long drought, causing a water shortage. You literally have to pay to pee, and will get arrested if you are found breaking that law.

The musical is filled with toilet humor as well as satire, making fun of other musicals and itself, and I was lucky enough to have a role in the chorus during my high school production of it.

As for the AU, well...

In this world, fossil fuels are running out, and the methods of renewable energy are seen as ludicrous and a waste of money and resources, and nuclear power hasn't been harnessed. Because of this, there is a shortage of electricity.

In the wake of the electricity shortage, one company rose above the rest; Fazbear Co. Formerly known as Fazbear Entertainment and Mining services, they made animatronics that provided entertainment as well as robots sent deep underground to collect the last of the coal that human workers couldn't get to.

With the shift of focus in the company, most of the bots were released to fend for themselves, having to search for jobs in order to scrape together money just like the humans did in order to charge themselves. The unlucky ones ended up running their batteries down to the very last percent and often died on the streets. Their bodies would just get shoved to the side, and more often than not would get picked over for spare parts to sell.

When it comes to the humans, each household was given a chargeable generator that someone would have to drag to the nearest local charging station and pay to have it charged. A full charge would last 12 hours with continuous use, so people often would ration their electricity to try and make it stretch.

In order to keep people in line and ultimately keep money in the pockets of the big shots, a law was passed stating that it was illegal to use renewable energy of any kind, and if anyone was caught using it they would be sent away to what people began to refer to as 'Fazland'. Anyone sent to Fazland was never to be seen or heard from again.

Now! In the case of our characters, Sun/Moon (in one body) were the favorites of the owner of Fazbear Energy Co., a Mister William Afton. Because they were his favorites they were spared the untimely demise most other animatronics faced, and was instead made the secretary for the company after undergoing new training.

Y/n works for Fazbear Energy Co. at one of the charging stations, taking people's money and hooking up their generators to allow them to charge. They often get people trying to beg them for freebies and passes, and they have to turn those people away with a saddened heart- until one day the person asking for a freebie is their own father, whose medical condition means he needs to have power constantly to run his machines.

After a brief argument with the other attendant working along with Y/n (Undecided who it will be), Y/n's father reveals that he had been working on a project all while Y/n was at work- a mini solar panel. This gets him immediately arrested and taken away to Fazland, leaving Y/n with their mother who broke down when she heard the news.

I'm not going to go on to continue telling the entire plot in one post, but if anyone is interested please let me know! I loved Urinetown: The Musical and am a bit excited for this au, even though i'm sure just about nobody else is going to know it.

Brief character synopsis for those of you who do happen to know the musical:

Afton as Caldwell B. Cladwell

Sun/Moon as Hope Cladwell

Y/n as Bobby Strong

Y/n's (yet) unnamed father as Joseph Strong

Y/n's (yet) unnamed mother as Josephine Strong

And I'm still working on other characters

[straynoahide]

this kind of bullshit arguments is why (mostly white) leftist fifthcolumnists can unironically defend october 7th as "resistance" and spend every second of their western lives shitting on the west, with barely no opposition in "progressive spaces". israel isn't exactly part of the west, the jewish democracy isn't exactly liberal democracy, but our enemies certainly are the same... pro-terror, yes, this is what this is, but also something worse.

what's this great anti-western resistance stand for?

the CCP seeing taiwanese gay marriage as a casus belli and reeducating muslims? juche's trigenerational punishments? fossil fuel oligarchs and ruscist bureaucrats that still praise stalin enforcing conscription of native siberians? the theocratic ummah and arab imperialists that do not at all envision human trafficking in some neo-caliphate for kafir girls? failed narco-states and femicides in latin america's powerhouses? more jihadism done by black people against each other, or the zimbabwe experience in africa? endless civil war? what is it? what is our salvation? socialism in one planet?

what else am i supposed to applaud, as an european, to deconstruct whiteness and embrace this multipolar future, to get a medal for being with the resistance (ie the imperialism of some other awful regime or proto-totalitarian nightmare) and not with the "american empire"? how great 9/11 and how bad the pax americana.

yes let's go back to elder councils that rule out a woman raped is solved by the prepetrator's sister raped and that dancing boys are great entertainment cos if they're poor nobody will complain they get serially abused by patrons. let's pretend anti-american sentiment and the taliban help afghans more than democracy would.

or maybe, i don't know, let's pretend traditional cultures aren't hit-and-miss half of the time with unscientific, anti-scientific, obscurantist explanations and prescriptions. how great stone age justice is in the name of cultural relativism. chemotherapy and antipsychotics are just as good, or worse, than bear bile, cos cancer is just bad vibes and the shaman will cure you.

liberal western hegemony my ass. just look the fuck around and see what humanity is doing and it's not that hard to see what's up, life isn't a boogeyman economic system and 'structures' it's also people and values and some fucks don't engage the former besides out of touch abstractions nor would know the latter if it hit them in the face.

leftism is just postmodern soteriology. it's empty, and it is braindead.

also btw rainbow imperialism and anti-antizionism are the best praxis for progressive values.

LGBTIQ rights belong in every little recess of every nation i don't care it's "traditional" to stone bottoms bc that culture has 6 genders and the elder council decided sth else. i literally don't care. and i don't care how traditional and nationally sensitive jew-hatred and anti-israel propaganda seep into the multipolar discourse, either. if every country says one (1) nation/ethnoreligion is to blame for every bad thing humans do then fuck every country and their big lie.

fuck all of that. all of humanity needs to drop bullshit beliefs if we're gonna live on the same rock, whether we like it or not, and i'm not going to pretend the taliban's voice or some deluded communist monarch in north korea should have a say in it as loud as mine because the west is "just as bad or worse". the nazis didn't get a say in rebuilding europe. they won't either and if that's through liberalism and america then so be it.

The thing with 9/11 is that no one cares that much about the death and destruction itself. Buildings fall down and people die all the time, including in the US. Like at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic you had entire 9/11s worth of USamericans dying on a regular basis. If all that damage was caused by an earthquake or faulty building practices or whatever, there wouldn't have been nearly as much fuss about it. It's not as if the insane response from US population was a matter of "two building fall down"

The reason why 9/11 was so upsetting to the US population was their widespread feelings of Imperialist Chauvinism and the subsequent outrage at seeing it so openly and violently defied. The US was at the height of its Imperialist power at the turn of the millennium, a hegemonic superpower that was dominant in some way over more or less the entire world. Whether they'd phrase it in such a way or not, most people in the US were very well aware of this; as far as they were concerned the US was truly the greatest country on the Earth. For some this was a point of pride, for others it was a simple fact of the world. This made them feel secure; bombings and mass killings might happen in those "shithole nations" of the earth but it couldn't happen over there. The US military could wipe entire cities off the map and like maybe that was good, maybe that was unfortunate and maybe it meant nothing at all. Either way that was normal; the violence flowed from the Core to the Periphery.

Until one day it didn't. One day a group of people from that Periphery, from some shithole group of nations, struck back. Now the sorts of destruction they'd seen on TV were happening right outside their window; the US got the smallest taste of the sort of brutality they had long inflicted on the rest of the world. And they did not like that taste at all. The US people as a whole went mad with grief and rage, not at the death of any people but the death of their sense of unquestionable safety and superiority. And the only hope of getting that feeling back was to inflict a revenge so terrible that no one would dare resist or retaliate again.

If bloodshed was how they'd built their empire, only more bloodshed could keep it safe. And this time they didn't even have to feel bad about it. It's not as if the US empire had ever given the world any peace, but now they had the perfect pretense to escalate it to levels not seen in decades. If they talked about this isolated and comparatively limited attack as though it was some great invasion, the US government and its supporters could take all the moral high ground of "self defence" even as they slaughtered impoverished peoples on the other side of the world. So it made sense to treat the 11 September attacks as though they were the greatest tragedy of all time. 9/11 didn't break the US psyche, it just made them express it in a more shameless way. It's not as though genocidal Imperialist violence was anything new to the USA. Afghans were just the new Apaches; the "Middle East" a new "Wild West"

[templardom]

God’s Whistleblower

The eyes of the LORD are in every place, keeping watch on the evil and the good. Proverbs 15:3 (ESV)

This is how we know who the children of God are and who the children of the devil are: Anyone who does not do what is right is not God’s child, nor is anyone who does not love their brother and sister. 1 John 3:10 (NIV) 

Dear friend, do not imitate what is evil but what is good. Anyone who does what is good is from God. Anyone who does what is evil has not seen God. 3 John 1:11 (NIV) 

Warn a divisive person once, and then warn them a second time. After that, have nothing to do with them. You may be sure that such people are warped and sinful; they are self-condemned. Titus 3:10-11 (NIV) 

Be angry, yet do not sin.” Do not let the sun set upon your anger, and do not give the devil a foothold. Ephesians 4:26-27 (BSB)

Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have found your deeds unfinished in the sight of my God. Apocalypse 3:2 (NIV)

Remember, therefore, what you have received and heard; hold it fast, and repent. But if you do not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what time I will come to you. Apocalypse 3:3 (NIV)