#its not a starry post unless its long
Note
Hello!! Question about clone^2, what are the styles of Danny and Damian? Like day to day stuff for example. Does Danny buy Damian the traditional 8 yr old clothes (dinosaurs with sunglasses tees, stuff like that) or does Damian already have a style he likes? And Danny! I know that Sam gives Danny various punk hairstyles and that he prefers gender neutral stuff but outside of that what would Danny wear in general?
You don’t have to answer of course, but I’ll give you a thank you in advance!
- kindest regards, Gas Can
I LOVE GETTING ASKS NO WORRIES MY GUY. AS MY FAVORITE SAYING GOES 'THE QUICKEST WAY TO STARRY'S HEART IS THROUGH HER ASK BOX'.
And I love this question, this is a good one!! If damian's 8 then he's been around the fenton house for about a year or so. I can't see baby dames ever willingly wearing traditional child-like clothes, at least not in the beginning when he first arrives at the Fenton house. Which he'd be around 6-7.
Danny tells him (with the help of google translate) that he's going shopping to buy him new clothes sometime during Damian's early stay since the little man had been wearing the same clothes he arrived in for a while (which you can find here with the reblog of the colored version) and honestly he probably asks damian if he wants to come along to pick something out. he doesn't know the kid's style and it might be a bad idea because damian might make a run for it, but danny's caught him before at this point.
(plus he'll need help carrying bags - his hands are freshly injured and still smarting. they're not as bad as they will be in the future, but hand injuries hurt. consider it repayment for being the cause of it, damian)
And early Damian would choose clothes that remind him most of the league - so dark colors, more formal styles, think like how you'd imagine his original template to dress like, if you will. Danny is side-eyeing him in judgy bewilderment, but says nothing other than to complain about the price tag. Of which Damian has no idea what he's saying. He'd stick with those clothes until he has his little moment with Danny in the OPS Center where he finally tells him he's a clone (even though Danny already knows) and that he doesn't want to go back. After that he'd reluctantly and steadily start branching out.
So eight year old Damian, whose begun to chill out more and act more like a child his age would? I don't think he'd ever wear graphic t-shirts about kids shows, but I can see him wearing graphic tees of like, animal facts on it, animals, stars, etc etc, and then plain shirts in a variety of increasing color. I have this mental image that Danny buys Damian one of those joke shirts that says "bro I'm 8" / "this is what an awesome eight year old looks like" (with two thumbs pointing at itself) and Damian wears it to school a week later. Damian's variety of shirts increases the more comfortable he gets and the more he comes into his own identity.
Damian also, steadily, keeps stealing Danny's flannels even if they're almost comically large on him. They're comfy and he's embracing his role as baby brother (and also he really looks up to him because he understands, to an extent, of what danny's done for him). Danny and the Fentons start buying Damian his own after a while because, well, he can't keep taking Danny's.
And Danny! I'm so glad you mentioned Danny, my favorite GNC boy. I keep forgetting myself sometimes that I gave him long hair, even if it is my favorite thing about him. And honestly? Danny doesn't really do much with his hair if Sam isn't styling it. He usually lets it stay down on his head, and then pulls it back into a ponytail or a half-ponytail at school depending on what he's doing (gym vs a test).
He keeps it in a ponytail as phantom to keep it out of his face, and then when he's working on a Ghost Case he sometimes has it up in a (messy™) bun because the feeling of having his hair on his neck when its in a ponytail drives him nuts, especially when sleep deprived. Sam teaches him how to braid it back into a simple braid and its become a new fidget for him to braid his hair and then unbraid it. It's easier to keep off his face than a ponytail, so he sometimes braids it back when he's sneaking out as phantom. It happens more often once he gets skilled at it.
And danny's style! I know you probably only meant his hairstyle, but I also wanna talk about his aesthetic! He doesn't really put much into his appearance. Very teenager-y boy 'threw on the first thing i saw on a hanger/floor' type, but he kinda has a bit more of a casual, soft grungy-like look as an older teen. Just some hints of Sam's influence - and you know what, some of Tucker's as well because that's his best friend too.
(Off topic but 19yo Danny from my Childhood Friends Dead On Main au has a similar style that's a bit soft punk as well, and that is somewhat more intentional on CFAU Danny's part. Why make an au if I can't play dress up with my favorite character? :))
Mostly because I read a Spider-Man x DP fic that described Danny (from an outsider's pov) as looking kinda like a skater boy who listens to alt rock music and it's been my personal interpretation of him ever since. So he has band tees, flannels, graphic tees with jokes on them, shirts with astronomy facts on them, and idk if he'd ever buy ripped jeans but Sam has certainly bought him some and they fit so *shrugs* he wears them. And he has one or two of those denim jackets with the hoodie sewn inside it. And from Tucker he has a few turtlenecks because Tucker reads as a turtleneck-kinda guy, geek chic-ish.
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc crossover#dpdc#clone^2#danny fenton is a clone#danny fenton is not the ghost king#damian wayne has a clone#the quickest way to starry's heart is through her ask box#its not a starry post unless its long#srsly tho i love getting asks even if i haven't answered them. so anyone who sends me an ask: i see them!! i love them!!! if i havent-#answered it its because I can't think of anything *to* say to it that i think would make a fulfilling ask. but i see it and i love it#unmentioned in the post but danny also has a few black croptops of the rave-variety from when he needs to pull what he likes to call a#'brucie wayne moment' and its my favorite part of the clone danny au bc youre gonna look me in the eye and say that there's a-#non-malicious TEENAGE bruce wayne clone running around and he DOESNT have a brucie wayne impression? brucie wayne is a#walking meme in of himself. absolutely a teenage clone of him would pretend to be him sometimes even if its a joke. he wouldnt get away wit#being bruce wayne considering the 30 year age gap BUT acting like him? he can do that AND make someone (or a dozen) swoon at the same time#danny has his identity crisis issues but that doesnt mean he can't have FUN with it. he shares a face with the biggest himbo alive yes he#will use that to his advantage when he's aware of it.#gas can anon#i love that signoff btw#brucie wayne is half the reason i made the clone danny au for a reason - the pure shenanigans of having his face#could potentially cause#like yeah he’s batman’s clone blah blah blah but BRUCIE WAYNE. THE BIMBO HIMSELF
123 notes
·
View notes
Text
New York, I Love You.
Summary: Eddie plans a trip to NYC for your anniversary, but becomes distant once you land in the city that never sleeps. You know he's hiding something, but you're not sure what.
Genre: fluff, angst, older!Eddie
Warnings: mention of depression/intrusive thoughts
A/N: I'm getting married in 2 weeks (fucking yikes), so I wrote something based on my fiancé's actual proposal to take my mind off of planning shit for two fucking seconds.
“Have you heard about the theory that Van Gogh didn’t actually kill himself?” You chime, looking over the museum map, eagerly tracing an invisible tour path through the winding galleries.
“You’ve only told me about it a million times over the past seven years,” Eddie chuckles as he stares down the entranceway of the Museum of Modern Art. The two of you look incredibly out of place; stark white walls, juxtaposed with tattoos and leather. The soft squeak of your Docs reverberate through the winding hallway, adding to the anxiety that’s been building since stepping foot in New York City two days ago. Something was off with Eddie, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. It started at the airport, he had stopped talking after getting to the gate; chalking it up to nerves about flying, you ignored it. The first day in the city was the same, barely any conversation unless you initiated it, and even less physical affection on his part. Maybe he was still tired from the trip, or maybe he just hated the city? A third reason rears its ugly head and starts to burrow deep inside your conscious; maybe he was getting tired of you. After seven years of being together, of cohabitating in a small apartment outside of Hawkins, of two cats and a dog later, maybe the love of your life was pushing away.
A hand on the small of your back snaps your attention back to the map. The 1880-1940’s collection is on the 5th floor, allowing you to traverse through the rest of the museum before seeing the one piece this entire trip was centered around.
———
New York City was actually Eddie’s idea, though it doesn’t seem so from his current disconnected behavior. A few months prior he had bounded into the living room, smiling like he had just won the lottery.
“Baby,” he sang in his best, most innocent voice, “how would you feel about going to New York City in July?”
Your head slowly rose from the book you were buried in. His particular tone was usually only reserved for when he was already in trouble, or plotting something mischievous.
“What’s your angle, Munson?” Shifting forward on the couch, your eyes narrow in suspicion.
Hand over heart, he looks at you with faux offense, “How dare you think so little of me. I just think we should do something cool for our anniversary this year.”
All your wariness fades to glowing endearment.
“Oh Eds, that’d be amazing! Of course I’d love to go to New York!”
His face relaxes as he huffs out a relieved breath, “Oh thank god, ‘cause I already bought plane tickets—“
You smile at him, impressed that he had actually planned something ahead of time instead of waiting until the last minute like usual. You’ve been together almost 7 years, and as time went on celebrating your anniversary became less and less theatrical, now consisting of take-out from your favorite Chinese place and a movie of unanimous choosing. Low-key, comfortable, but still full of love, just like you and Eddie.
“—and I also reserved two tickets for the Museum of Modern Art.”
Your eyes almost pop out of your head, “That’s where—“
“—Starry Night is. I know, that’s why I’m taking you there.” He flops down onto the couch, throwing a casual arm around your shoulders as you melt into him.
For your entire life, or at least as long as you can remember, Van Gogh has been your favorite artist. Doing master-copies of his paintings in high school, trying to hard to get his technique just right, obsessing over his use of color to convey emotion. In college you majored in Art History, specializing in Post-Impressionism, spending long nights pouring over books about Vincent’s life and background. As much as you love his work, his story made him that much more intriguing. How a man struggled with such a tragic life and still managed to see the beauty in the world was nothing less than astounding.
You’ve seen a few of Van Gogh’s pieces in person at museums in the tri-state area, but you haven’t traveled much further. Money’s been tight ever since you and Eddie moved in together a few years ago, but you’ve always had the bug, itching to go far away and see the world with all it has to offer. Eddie shares the same desire, always talking about dream trips and planning fake vacations, waiting for the day you can make them a reality.
“Eddie, where did you get the money for this?” The thought of possibly spending rent money on plane tickets makes you panic, but he’s is quick to shrug it away.
“I picked up some extra shifts at the shop, we’re fine don’t worry.”
———
Eddie is usually very physically affectionate, constantly having a hold somewhere on your body; but through 4 floors of galleries he hasn’t so much as touched your hand. The lack of contact is all you can think about, barely able to take in any of the artwork you’ve traveled all this way to see. As you make your way to the 5th floor, Eddie trudges behind silently. The awkward tension is killing you, and you’re not sure how much more you can take.
Turning into the 1880s gallery, a small crowd of people gather around the far corner. A glimpse of familiar cerulean and marigold swirls, the same brushstrokes you’ve studied for years, peaks over the top of their heads. You swiftly push to the front, and all of the air is crushed from your lungs.
It’s other-worldly.
Every photo you’ve ever seen of The Starry Night doesn’t do it justice, not even remotely. The peaks of paint that dot the surface of the canvas, the brightness of each color, none of it can be properly depicted on the pages of a textbook. After so many years of studying this painting, seeing it in the flesh is almost like seeing an old friend. There’s a calmness in it, admiration mixed with giddiness.
You’re close to tears as you feel Eddie’s presence beside you.
“It’s amazing…” his voice is low, partly because of the subdued setting, but also in awe.
All you can muster is a nod as your eyes drag over every inch of the painting, committing it to memory.
You have to practically rip yourself away, buzzing from the entire experience.
Eddie waits by the entranceway with his hands in his front pockets, “Do you wanna go get dinner? I’m starving.”
“Sure,” still unnerved by his demeanor, your tone is stoic and emotionless, “Where do you wanna go?”
He scratches the back of his neck, something only done when he’s uncomfortable, “Uh, there’s this pub across 52nd if that’s cool?”
An audible stomach growl answers for you.
Eddie keeps a few feet of distance between your bodies, weaving through groups of people on the crowded sidewalk. You’ve never seen this many people in your life, even at college in Indianapolis. Growing up in Indiana, your hometown was so small that everyone knew each other, same with Eddie’s upbringing in Hawkins. City life always intrigued you, and up until this moment you had thought of Indianapolis as a “big city”; but it was nothing compared to New York. After high school you moved away to college to study art, choosing Indiana University for its busier atmosphere.
A month after graduating with your BFA, you met Eddie by accident. Moving back home to live with your parents was the last thing you wanted, but finding a good paying job was proving to be more difficult than anticipated.
Depression started to sink it’s disgusting claws into your psyche; you felt like a failure.
One night, in a valiant attempt to bring some joy back into your life, your best friend dragged you to a bar in the next town over; the promise of live music and alcohol extremely enticing. Hawkins wasn’t known for much, except for the weird rumors about mysterious disappearances over the years, so you weren’t expecting much from this hole-in-the-wall bar. The Hideout was kind of gross, but in an almost endearing way. The floors were sticky and the air almost unbreathable, but the staff was kind, despite their rough appearances. The bartender chatted the two of you up for while, making jokes and letting you sample whatever beer you wanted to try, all while some metal band played on the rickety stage in the back.
A little before midnight, the band had packed up and the crowd inside thinned out to just regulars and a few drunk stragglers. As you sat at the bar and waited for your friend to get back from the bathroom, a stranger sat next to you and ordered a beer, greeting the bartender like an old friend. After exchanging a few light-hearted jabs, the stranger smiled and looked over at you.
“Cheers—“ he holds out the neck of the bottle towards you.
Taken aback by his boldness, you return a small grin, “Cheers to what?”
He shrugs, sucking his teeth in thought for a second, “To metal? To surviving another gig? I dunno.”
The guitar pick around his neck catches your eye, “Was that your band playing earlier?”
He gives a shy nod, smile stretching wider and accentuating a dimple on his left cheek.
“You guys sounded really good,” You hold out your own bottle towards him.
“I’ll cheers to that,” he taps against yours, a small clink echoing in the almost empty bar.
“I’m Eddie, by the way.”
“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you, Eddie.” Normally, you would rather die than talk to a random person at a bar, but there was something about this boy that drew you in. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was how ethereal he looked under the neon bar signs, either way you were captivated.
You stayed at the Hideout longer than intended, long after your friend had decided to go home. Eddie made you laugh with stupid jokes and weird stories, sharing your mutual love of horror movies and fantasy books. You were so enthralled that you hadn’t even noticed it was closing time. Apologizing to the bartender, you asked to use their phone to call a cab. Eddie immediately offered to drive you home, promising he wasn’t a serial killer when you profusely questioned him.
The drive was filled with loud music and scream-singing on both of your parts, Eddie drumming on the steering wheel to the beat as you headbanged beside him. When he pulled up at your parents house, you quickly pulled a pen out of your bag, scribbling your phone number onto his forearm. He winked before driving away, having stayed a few extra minutes to make sure you got inside safely. Every thought for the rest of the night was consumed by Eddie; something was tying you to him, and you wanted to follow that invisible tether all the way to the end.
———
The 52nd Street pub was empty, something that was shocking upon entry, but you were nonetheless a little grateful for it. The quiet was a welcome change from the overwhelming sounds of New York, a small corner of solitude in the center of the city that never sleeps. Welcome almost as much, are the beers that you and Eddie down immediately.
Though he normally cannot stop talking, Eddie is being uncharacteristically mute. You have to practically drag out any bit of conversation, forcing small talk until the food arrives and you can focus on that instead.
After a silent meal, the portly older waiter drops off your check and strikes up a conversation with Eddie about your trip and why you were visiting. Eddie put on his polite voice, smiling and laughing along with man’s questions. This stranger was receiving more from him than you had in days.
The nagging voice in your head struck up again: he’s tired of you.
You stopped paying attention to Eddie’s side-conversation as annoyance consumed you. There was an emerging throb in your head, the physical pain matching the emotional hurt of Eddie’s complete disdain towards you. At this point, all you wanted was to go home.
The sun was setting as you walk out onto the corner of 52nd, and you squint down the street searching for a cab.
“Hey—“ Eddie smiled at you for what seems like the first time all day, “—wanna go to Central Park?” He points down the street, and you can make out the tops of the trees seven blocks away.
You shake your head, “I’m really tired, and my head is killing me. I’d rather just go back to the hotel honestly.”
Eddie’s face falls a little, and you feel slightly guilty, but then remember how uninterested he was all day.
Again, he glances towards the park, “Are you sure? It’s just a few blocks away—“
“No, Eddie. I just want to go back to the room.” Your voice was stern, annoyed that he only now wanted to spend time with you. A yellow cab crested over the next block, and you raise a hand to get the drivers attention.
“I would rather share one lifetime with you—“ Eddie mumbles behind you. Only half listening, you swear he’s grumbling about not being able to go to the park, and it sets off a rage flare.
“—What?” You snap your head around to face him, eyes narrow and angry, bracing yourself for an argument.
He’s standing a few feet away, one hand in his pocket, the other holding up a diamond ring. Your lungs constrict, an audible gasp escaping as you stare at him wide-eyed. He grins sheepishly as you freeze in place.
“Eddie…what?”
“I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone,” He repeats, returning your stare with his soft brown eyes.
“…are you seriously quoting Lord of the Rings to me right now?” You laugh, all tension leaving your body.
“Did you expect anything less from me?” His deep eyes search yours, silencing the menacing voice in your head, “Marry me, Y/n. I love you more than anything—“
“—more than Gollum loves his precious?”
Eddie rolls his eyes and snorts, “Obviously, you fucking nerd.”
Scoffing dramatically, you smile and take the ring from his outstretched hand, sliding it onto your finger.
“Of course I’ll marry you, Eddie Munson. I thought you’d never ask.”
Finally, after days of anxiety and frustration, he kisses you, smiling the entire time. You can almost physically feel the stress leave his body as you hold onto him.
Pulling back you grab his hand, interlocking your fingers, “Is this why you’ve been acting weird?”
He chuckles, “Yeah, I was super nervous. I honestly planned on doing it in front of The Starry Night, but I freaked out when I saw how many people were around.”
Your heart soars at the sentiment, and you look down at your hand in his, the little diamond sparkling in the fading sunlight.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson edit#eddie munson smut#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson x you#stranger things fanfic#eddie x y/n#Eddie Munson x reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson au#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x fem! reader#older!eddie#Eddie Munson angst
490 notes
·
View notes
Text
Reflections and a Movie Night Dare (Snow Owl AU)
If one can recall on this blog, I had recently posted a fic based on my Snow Owl AU (Mary Grayson Alive and a Crime Fighter) called ‘Memories, Held Back Feelings, and a Vow’; well, the following is a sort of alternate take on the same plot and premise presented there, only taken in a less dramatic fashion and tone. What happened was basically a friend and I looking over this story and deciding on taking a less fluffy and soft direction plant was written during a period I still grasping what was actually in character for Dick and Mary even under alternate circumstances so if it seems out of character for them, just a small heads up. So in a way, this is this story in a more unabridged version.
Anyways the following is dedicated to my good friends @confusedhummingbird @spider-jaysart @camo-wolf @theredheaded-stuff @lightdusk96 @nightglider124 @starlightbelle @adalineozie @sbd-laytall @bluegarners @celaenaeiln @pin-crusher2000 @acediscowlng @faesystem @mothnem @sillymanwithocs and many others
The following and characters and concepts are owned by DC Comics, part of DC Entertainment, a subsidiary of Warner Bros Discovery
And now, on with the show…..
As nighttime produced a clear and starry night that draped over the city of Bludhaven, its two protectors had just barely wrapped up with patrol and stopped any plots and schemes from the superstitious cowardly lot that created chaos in the streets. With the tight and combined efforts, the streets were safe, their job and their vow to protect innocents in pursuit of justice had prevailed, at least for the night. Thankfully, the upcoming morning was a lazy Saturday so they can sleep in after such a wonderfully exhilarating night.
Both protectors, Mother and Son, reach the staircase right outside the master bedroom's window, landing with the most graceful of ease without making any clanking noise on said stars. As Mother and Son reel in their grapple lines into their respective escrima sticks, the younger one of them, clad in a red vest, a green scaly pair of pants, black domino cape with a solid yellow cape, with a yellow utility belt and green pixies boots; he takes out the key in said belt to unlock the window and allow them both in. It was long yet another success for the Dynamic Duo of Bludhaven, Snow Owl and Robin, the Boy Wonder.
Finally, the window locks click with a turn from Robin's key, indicating that they are now ready to open. As they do so and both crime fighters lightly begin stepping into the master bedroom, both Snow Owl and Robin slip off their respective boots before taking steps onto the bed right next to the window. Rather than stepping onto the beige carpeting in this bedroom right away, the Boy Wonder proceeds to extend his arms and playfully flop back first on said bed and goofily stick his tongue to the side of his mouth. This display of silliness earns a giggle from his mother as she steps onto the bed and closes the windows, making sure the extra locks are secured in place as per post patrol tradition.
She looks to her son, still laying on the bed with his tongue still to the side of his mouth, his eyes peacefully shut, and panting happily after such a long night of crime fighting and swinging from one rooftop to the other. That patrol wiped Robin out since he was intentionally badly playing dead.
Even more confirmed by him breathing out with an exhausted yet cheerful tone, “Golly, I think I died right now, Snow Owl.”
His mother snickers sweetly at that bold claim as she proceeds to sit on the bed cross legged, and stretch her arms behind her back, popping a few sore joints.
“Well, last time I checked, dead bodies usually don’t say out loud they’re dead, unless they’re zombies of course”, Snow Owl lightheartedly snarks as she then climbs off the bed and makes her way to both her dresser. From there, she takes out a light blue t shirt and black sweatpants, meant to change into them once she showers off the dried up sweat and even grime, they both got throughout this night. As she returns to her bedroom, she can see Robin just lying there on her bed in the same position as she left him in.
Robin peeks one open seeing Snow Owl with a clean laundry set in her arms, knowing he best do the same. He happily yet tiredly swings his legs off the bed, standing up on the carpeted floor and starts taking steps on his way to first his own bedroom for his own clothes to change into before heading for the bathroom.
“Don’t forget to make sure to get every single part washed up”, Snow Owl reminded her son while slipping off her domino mask and gloves, “you never know where any dirt or other stuff might be left on you...”
“Oh relax, Mom, I got it”, Robin says with confidence and a firm understanding. “Oh, I'll make sure not to take too long. We gotta make sure the water bill doesn’t go up too high in how much we pay for it, right?”
Snow Owl nods. She remembers their last bill having an additional zero then their usual ones. She gives her son a thumbs up. “You got that right; I’ll make sure not to take too long as well. Good thinking.”
With a simple thumbs up to his mother, Robin also takes off his own mask and continues on his way. However, as he does so, there’s something about him, Snow Owl notices. For a briefest of seconds there, she thought she was looking at…someone else. Snow Owl cannot help herself from feeling a sort of…. feeling. Her love for her son allows her to see something in him. She cannot help but see…. her husband, the boy’s father in that smile, that confidence he exudes, just this sort of, spirit present within him that reminds her of the man whose unfortunate tragedy those years ago molded the both of them into the crime fighters they are today.
She closes her unmasked blue eyes as a sort of burning sensation starts slowly igniting in them. A sudden heaviness weighs upon her ability to stand up. That ability very lightly starts slipping away and her breathing picks up. Grief, sorrow and loss. In trying to remember the good times and happy life she had with her husband, those emotions accompany them.
It’s a part of her that’s getting better every day but even after all this passed time, it’s still not easy to completely let go off. What does matter though are as such; in her and her son’s hearts and memories, her husband lives on, they both have brought in the criminals responsible for that loss to justice and above all else, they have each other. It’s those facts that help Snow Owl overcome her grief numerous times before as it does now. She takes a deep breath in clearing her thoughts. Those thoughts might come back another day but she’ll be a tad bit more prepared in dealing with them when the time comes. In the meantime, gently holding her domino mask in her hand and regaining her composure, Snow Owl fixes up her bed after the landing both Robin and her made on it and makes her way to the living room.
Once there, she takes note of the pillows, notebooks and pencils littered on the carpeted floor right in front of the couches. No doubt, her son was in the middle of homework duties before immediately jumping at the chance to join her on patrol. She cannot help but have a chuckle as she picks up the notebook and pencils, placing them on a nightstand next to said couches and the pillows back to where they go. In spite of being one smart cookie, her son was never really the biggest fan of doing homework. But hey, at least he knows better than flunk it completely, lest he face her wrath. As she prepares to take her seat on the couch, finally giving her legs a break from their use throughout the entire day…. that feeling suddenly comes back to her. Next thing she knows, as her back lays down on the softness and smooth surface of the leather couch cushions, her mind has painted something else entirely for her eyes to see.
As she opens them, Snow Owl’s see…him. But wait is that…her son?
It can’t be right, his jawline looks a bit too firm, and the pupils in his eyes are a dark shade of green, almost emerald.
“Mary? Dear?”
That baritone in his voice and that nickname.
Suddenly the memory in her memory begins to play. She’s not in full control of her past self. She’s at that moment not Snow Owl, defender and hero for the downtrodden of the city of Bludhaven. She was Mary Elizabeth Lloyd-Grayson, wife of John ‘The Flying’ Grayson and mother of her son Richard, you can call him ‘Dick’ for short. At the moment she’s not in the well-kept, simple and modern apartment within the smaller urban neighborhoods next to the gym she calls her job sight, she looks within her memories, finding herself at the small, thin steel made trailer, a bit more cramped in spacing but with also similar beige wall to wall carpeting. This wasn’t just a dream; this was her life.
She finally answers her husband who calls for her attention. “Yes John?”
John flashed a content smile as he heard his wife’s reply, “You know that I love ya, don’t ya?”
She nods with a peaceful and all too real smile on face. She doesn't even have to say a single word to let him know. John then leans to press a small yet all too loving kiss on his wife’s cheek.
“Well, it’s always good just to double check,” John says as he lifts himself off his seat and offers a hand for his wife to help her off her own like the gentleman he can be. She takes it and right on cue, both of them hear a familiar small voice call out from the entrance to the front door.
“Hey, guys! C’mon, we’re gonna be late for practice!”
Both parents chuckle at their seven-year old’s impatience since he was so excited to show them his newest tricks on the ropes. She cannot but smile upon seeing her little boy bounce on his two legs right in front of the trailer door with a pouty look on his face. His father proceeds to lay a firm hand on his jet-black hair and slightly ruffle his fingers across it.
“All right, Little Man. We’ll be on the way”, John tells his boy with a firm smile. With her son excitedly leading the way and her husband by her side, she reaches for the handle of the door, turns it, and slowly opens the door, stepping out into the bright day ahead of them.
“Hey, Mom?”
A voice that belonged to her son but now very slightly older sounding snaps Snow Owl out of her memory. Her unmasked blue eyes open to see another smaller pair of blue eyes that belonged to her partner, her son. Instead of Robin the Boy Wonder, he was now Dick Grayson, clad in a blue cotton T shirt with an all too familiar red and yellow S shield that symbolizes Metropolis’ own resident hero, black sweatpants not dissimilar from his mother’s, his feet bare and digging into the carpeting and in his hands his Robin outfit as he was taking the red, green and yellow modified acrobat suit to the laundry machine.
Upon bringing her senses back to the present, Snow Owl stands back up, remembering about her own clothes back at her bedroom and gives her a small smile.
“Sorry about that”, she says as she makes her way to said bedroom, “just was...,” she had to stop herself since usually, whether it was good memories or bad ones, any reminder of the life she had with John before it got so cruelly taken away always was a bit of a sore spot for her soul. She couldn’t bear having her son see it if she could help it. He doesn’t need to see his mother in grief, he already has enough on his plate, especially his own reminders about the father he lost. Before even a sign of impending tears can make their way to her eyes, Snow Owl takes a deep yet quiet breath so that her curious son wouldn’t hopefully notice and collects herself before continuing on her way to her bedroom...
“Were you thinking about Dad”, Dick asks just as Snow Owl reaches the hallway. She turns around with a surprised look on her face to see Dick’s own, which had a mix of curiosity but also...shame and guilt.
Unable to withhold her answer, Snow Owl sighs and looks at her boy with her head a bit down as she tries maintaining her composure. “Y-yes, Dick. I was”, she finally answers. Then it was her turn to ask something, “but, how do you know?”
Dick’s face scrunched up a bit upon hearing that, which immediately got her mother’s worry since she might have a suspicion about just how long he knew about her own grief despite herself trying to be strong as he is for her. Finally, Dick sighs sadly and looks up to his mother with his eyes having a guilty look on them before he finally opens his mouth to say what he has been meaning to for quite a bit.
“I... I kinda knew ever since at least... when we first moved in here”, Dick says with his voice beginning a hint of crack before taking a deep breath to collect himself before continuing with his answer. “It’s just... I sometimes hear you cry some nights when you can’t sleep, usually after you had a dream about what happened to Dad and well.... the fact he’s.... not here anymore. Is that true?”
Snow Owl stood there almost at a loss for words on how much her son knew about it all. Unable to come up with any counter at that moment, only able to nod slightly at her son’s inquiry.
Dick once more sighed sadly in guilt as he put his Robin outfit on top of a seat on the couch while taking a seat. “I just wanted to say.... I’m sorry.”
This got Snow Owl’s attention like something else, she was kinda bit expecting it but nonetheless found herself surprised. “w-Why would you be sorry?”
“b-Because....”, Dick once more had to breathe out before stating his answer, “because...I-I know I know shouldn’t worry about it since it’s your business, your own thing and all. I shouldn’t spy on you like that and….” Before Dick can go on, an ungloved hand rests upon his shoulders. He looks up to see his mother with a sympathetic look on her face.
“Dick”, Snow Owl says with an equally understanding tone, “you miss your dad as well?”
Once her question reaches his ears, Dick silently buries his face into his hands. He nods a ‘yes’ while his breathing starts getting a bit more ragged. He was trying best not to lose control of any impending tears himself.
“Dick,” Snow Owl calls with a concerned and worried tone to him, “Just breathe. Nice and easy, okay?”
Dick once more silently nods as he struggles to keep his breathing under control. After some effort and time put into it, Dick is able to collect himself just enough to speak coherent words again. He puts those words to the forefront with taking his face in his hands and looking up at his worried mother, tears seemingly wanting to be free from eyes but through sheer will of his own, he’s able to keep them in.
“Yeah,” Dick croaks out as he looks up to his mother’s worried face, “I miss Dad too.”
Snow Owl nods in understanding and sympathy. She now has an understanding of what goes through her son’s head with only a few words. They are both in the same boat regarding how that loss impacted them to this day more so than she thought. She does wonder something though before taking a seat next to him. “Well,you can always be more open about that with me.”
Dick remained silent rather than immediately open up. Snow Owl knows for certain that when he is silent, her son can only be holding back something he wants to say yet something in him tells him not to. Maybe she can say something to help with that.
“I mean….it’s perfectly okay if you do miss him. It’s not like you don’t care about….”
At that, Dick’s head snapped forward before she finished, his tear filled eyes ablaze with shock and disbelief. “Don’t care?”, he growls while his breath picks up and his teeth grind, “Don’t….care?”
She takes a step back as Dick leaps out of his seat, planting his two feet on the carpeted floor with a vengeance, his breath shaky and his fists are clenched to his sides. “I…I do care….it’s why I didn’t want to say anything about it too much. You get it?”, by now, his voice was starting to rise, his anger was starting to creep in.
“ Of course, I miss him, I just do, I miss home, I miss my old friends, I miss Mr Haly, I….I just do…but…but I can’t just say it out loud all the time. Because it’ll just make it worse. I have to get used to being here, I have to make sure those bullies back at school don’t get to me when they keep…bringing….it…up all the dang time!” Dick looked up towards Snow Owl, still refusing to let those tears fall best he can but all those eyes had anyways was a blend of sadness and fury.
“Those cretins keep saying all sorts of total baloney and bull like ‘It’s what he deserved because he was cursed by marrying you, A...G word’ or ‘I was too stupid not to help him’ when you or me didn’t do anything or even know about it until it was too late! It was Zucco’s fault! Why can’t they just freaking understand that?! Even you can understand that better than they can! But I just….” Dick was starting to struggle finding the words by now.
What was racing through Snow Owl’s mind though wasn’t so much what he still has to say but rather what was said. She should’ve known it was bad, but not this bad. How? How did her little boy hold all this back for so long? Furthermore, why? Why hold this back for so long? She was deep down and rightfully afraid something like this would happen.
Dick was about to keep going, though she doesn’t know if he should. His body was trembling with so much and no doubt his eyes are at a boiling point with those tears who still refuse to fall, just out of sheer willpower alone from the looks of it. She couldn’t see him like this anymore. She kicked a hornet’s nest which was her son’s grief and anger, but she had to do something about that nest before the stings started coming in.
As Dick takes another breath now that he found something to say, Snow takes a step forward with a face that tries looking as stern as possible.
“Richard John Grayson, I’m sorry but that’s enough. You are going to hurt yourself like this.”
Just that alone was enough to snap Dick out of his thoughts. Within almost an instant, that firm and steel tone in his mother’s voice put a complete stop to whatever was racing through his mind. She was being serious, and the whole world slows down the instant she is serious. But there was something else within that firm time in her voice, something wrong, it sounded a bit cracked. Looking up to meet her face, Dick quickly found out why.
In Snow Owl’s own eyes, they were glistening with some wetness. Despite the firm stare she gives him, one single tear begins to roll down her cheek, probably one she doesn’t even notice. But he does. The moment he does, his heart accelerates once more, not from his grief and anger but guilt and horror. He thought to himself ‘What have I done?!’ Far as he was concerned, rightfully so.
Dick takes a major step forward with panic and worry in his eyes, much to his mother’s shock, making another tear fall from her eyes. “M….mom, p…please don’t cry! I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say all that! I…I….I just had so much in my mind and stuff, I just had to say it! I’m trying to be strong! I swear I’m trying but…but…I can’t! I just can’t! I’m sorry….I’m sorry….” By now, Dick had two tear streaks, one for each eye on his face. His speech was starting to break down a mumbling of both English and Romanes Chib. At that point, he collapses on his knees and buries his face in his left hand as he struggles to regain control, pounding the carpet floor with his right.
Snow Owl cannot help but stand there, one tear or two per eye and both eyes look down at the broken boy who was on his knees, trying to pull himself together. She had truly done it now. What kind of a mother was she? She hurt him, she made her 10 1/2 year old boy break down into tears and grief. She said the wrong thing twice by now. But the thing is….he’s her Little Robin. She can’t just leave him. She can’t let her own tears stop her from
Doing at least something…anything! She can’t afford to screw this one up this time.
After about half of a minute of trying to think of something, she might have a decent idea. Wiping away the tear streaks from her own eyes and taking a deep breath to collect herself, she crouches down to where her son and her can be face to face. She gently and very cautiously reaches out her right hand, ever so slowly and making sure Dick doesn’t immediately perk up and she doesn’t spook him off. After what seems like forever, her hand reaches his shaking and trembling shoulder and lays down upon it. Much to her internal relief, Dick doesn’t perk himself up in fear. Instead he merely utters, “It….it’s not your fault. None of this was your fault, Mom. It…it’s mine, I just thought I can handle losing Dad and what those bullies said about him better than I actually can….I didn’t mean to make you cry….I didn’t….”
Before he can continue Snow Owl gives her son a quiet and easy ‘Shush’ before her hand on his shaking shoulder tightens very nicely and easily. “It’s not your fault at all either, Little Robin.”
Dick takes a deep breath and clears his throat before looking back at his mother, hopefully for him, the tears in his eyes being all dried up. While the tears had certainly faded out, they left a sign via redness in Dick’s eyes. Nonetheless, he pushed himself onward with his answer. “It’s just that,” He briefly pauses to clear his throat before proceeding, “you go through enough. Some nights.... I....I can hear you cry yourself to sleep. Especially on Dad’s birthday...or yours.”
Snow Owl tries to reach a hand but her son then continues with what he needed to say.
“I mean...you have enough to worry about already. With your jobs, both at the gym and when you’re called up to protect Mrs. Drake, trying to keep our house clean,” Dick feels something in his voice start cracking very lightly before continuing, “me. It’s a lot, Mom and I can’t just make it worse and harder for you by bringing up Dad and how much I miss all the time. Because...well, you miss him too.” Dick finally finishes, taking a deep breath to collect himself now that he has said what he needed. Now it was just a matter of his mother’s reaction to it.
Snow Owl closed her eyes and pondered what her son had said. He certainly has a point; she has a lot on her plate especially as of late. All of it to make sure the two have livelihoods in this city, merely only a few years after having no other choice but to leave the brightly colored and lively tents and trailers they called home, for most of her entire life. She cannot help but feel a bit grateful that her boy puts a lot of consideration and care into her wellbeing like he did. He has a caring heart and she can see it in him.
But therein lies a problem, he can be too caring to the point it harms him. It’s not just in this case; every now and again during their cases and capers, her partner would be the first one to charge in on a gang of thugs and henchmen should she find herself surrounded despite even orders to hold back. Oftentimes this leads to the two of them clearing out said thugs and henchmen, the bad guy stopped and the day saved, which is what Snow Owl and Robin should be all about. Though this still can lead to her son putting himself at unnecessary risks even if it means her safety, something that’s been at the back of her mind probably ever since he aided her in arresting the men responsible for the accident that claimed her husband in the first place. But she can sense something else regarding this; he doesn’t need Robin taken away from him even if for a brief time, that’ll make things right now dour than they are. Her boy needs something else than that, he needs her to let him know.
Once more, Snow Owl reaches out a gentle hand and this time with a beat of easing in, lays it on his shoulder and the two are able to see eye to eye. “I understand”, she says with a sympathetic and motherly tone. Finally, she has something to say to maybe put them both at ease.
“But you know what?”
“What”, Dick asks in response.
Snow Owl finally is able to gently bring up a small smile, assured of her answer. “At least, we both know your dad isn’t gone entirely and not just nothing. Because he's here...with us. Not right in front, but in our memories, and... with you and me, together.”
Dick asks, “Like a, in spirit, type of way or something? Even after.... I couldn’t be able to”
Snow Owl nods accordingly, “Like that. We might not hear or see him right here and right now. But the fact we’re talking about him right now and we have those memories and good times with him should be a sign of that. I truly thank you for thinking about my feelings and what I go through, Little Robin. I’m sure even your dad would do the same for me.”
Dick looked at his mother curiously, “You think so? I mean, that’ll mean then that...”
Mary quickly realizes where this might go and clears her throat to help them stay on topic, “Point being; you have a good heart, Dick. You care and you show it with your actions. That’s more than enough, you don’t need to make yourself emotionally hurt by holding it back from me. Though in fairness”, she pauses, realizing it should be advice for herself as well, “I shouldn’t probably be entirely holding it all in as well.”
“Does this mean we both might need to see those.... couch doctor guys you talk to,” Dick asks while struggling to think up the right word for it. Snow Owl is aware and more than happy to answer it for him.
“Therapists, Dick”, Snow Owl nods, “therapists. If only need be and our habit of holding back what’s in our minds gets too much for even the both of us. But at least for now, it looks like it’s just the both of us we need to talk to about it. So,” Snow Owl stands up from her seat, taking her clean laundry back in her hands, “maybe once every one or two weeks, maybe we can talk it out. Like just you and me about what we’re going through.” She leans in gently and closely to her son, with a motherly smile to it, “You think we can try that?”
Dick is silent for a bit, pondering in his head about his mother’s suggestion. She has a point; it’s something they both need to do unless they want to end up with another awkward conversation like this all over again. She doesn’t need that and neither does he. It will be something that can help him as much as it does for her. With that in mind, he in turn asks something to her.
“Maybe we can try either tomorrow or even this upcoming Sunday?” He asks her with hopeful and determined eyes.
Snow Owl’s unmasked blue eyes beam with happiness and pride for her son. Giving him a quick side hug before standing upright. At that moment, Dick has a small smile grace his face. Her words and actions had reached him and he was starting to feel better. Her son then perked up all the sudden with a now wider smile on his face. It’s like he just remembered something that he would like to remember.
He then hops out of his seat on the couch and his feet pad across the carpet floor to the cabinet holding up the TV and opens the drawer containing the remotes.
Snow Owl then remembers as well much to her joy. It was Saturday, the beginning of the weekend meaning the next day, the two would have the apartment to themselves. Sure, Dick does have some homework to work on if he has too but it’s not due until next Monday. The two can sleep in for tomorrow morning but tonight is truly something else for them. Sure enough, Dick, being the acrobat he is, does a quick front flip that he lands safely on the couch with those remotes in hand. From there, he flips on both the TV and the streaming device, immediately scrolling his way to the comedies.... the PG 13 to R Rated comedies.
Dick looks up to his mother with the remotes in hand as they continue their scrolling for their film for tonight. They have a sort of mischief and fun to them that Snow Owl notices.
“So.... what do you have in mind for tonight, Dick?”
Now it was his turn to answer all too happily; “Well.... I was kinda thinking.... how about we watch those.... you know films that have that guy with the nerdy glasses, scruffy beard and that weird laugh? Maybe like three of them.”
Oh yes, that guy. The two always have a riot of pure unbridled laughter and just a great time every time his films are playing for their movie nights. But three for one night? Her son was up to something; he was making their movie night a Dare, a Dare they’ve played before. So why not play it for tonight after all?
With a sly and confident smirk, Snow Owl replies thusly, “The usual wager? For the one to burst out laughing with each film first has to make the winner a bowl of their favorite ice cream?”
Dick’s eyes beamed expectedly yet joyful. She basically read his mind. “Remember, my flavor is Mint Chocolate Chip, right?”
With a chuckle, Snow Owl beams as well. “Yep, and I hope you remember mine would be Cookies N Cream.”
Dick smirks with confidence and a tiny healthy bit of hubris. “I know, Mom. But yeah, I’m getting my ice cream first. I got this all handled.”
“You’re on, just as soon as I get out of my shower”, Snow Owl gives Dick a prideful thumbs up before finally, with her clean laundry in hand, makes her way to the bathroom for her clean up. Before going in, she does remember to keep it quick since they don’t want a big water bill by the end of the month.
Fifteen Minutes Later......
Emerging from the bathroom Snow Owl entered, out came Mary Grayson, clad in her light blue Tee and similarly black sweatpants, finishing drying her untied dark red hair with a towel and her bare feet taking steps in the carpet floor. Once able to dry as much of her hair as she could and placing the towel on the rack in the bathroom, Mary makes her way back to the living room. The TV is left on with one particular film, ‘The Meeting’, the one about those nerdy glasses wearing, scruffy bearded, weird laugh having guy and a friend of his have an interview with an infamous dictator. This ought to be good; now it was just a matter of making sure she can hold back the laughter she knows she’ll get watching this film long enough until Dick does so first.
Speaking of whom, Dick was barely finishing up pouring the heated-up popcorn into two big bowls, one for him and one for his mother, and was making his way back to the living room where Mary was taking a seat on the couch, her feet propped up on a cushion in front of said seat, leaning her back onto the cushion behind her, letting herself relax and waiting for her bowl. She didn’t wait too long before Dick arrives with her white plastic bowl being offered, to which she happily takes and puts on her laps.
With his own blue bowl, Dick takes his own seat, sitting cross legged and his hand on the remote.
Just before he presses ‘Play’, Mary turns to him, she has something small to say. “Just to let you know, Dick. I’m very proud of your work, both at school and out there when we crime fight no matter what. I’m also proud of you being responsible for this house with all you do. So, if there’s times where I.... well seem a bit distant.... not being as directly there all the time.... letting you do your thing.... I just wanted to let you know that I am available if you need me for whatever reason...... and that you always have me to back you up. So, anything that might seem is between us is just simply something we can and will work out and not something so....”
“Mom”, Dick interrupts with a cheerful and understanding tone, “I get it. I love you too.” He beams a soft smile in her direction. It lets her confirm what they both need to say.
Once Mary smiles back and gives her son a small yet livingly air kiss, much to his playful yet lighthearted chagrin, he presses ‘Play’.
Let the Grayson Family Movie Night shenanigans begin.
#mary grayson#dick grayson#snow owl AU#snow owl#family fluff#fanfic#my posts#alternate version#au#sfw
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
You and Your Human: Part 2
Part 1
You let yourself fall apart with your human for a few more moments before pulling yourself up. You are not helpless. You have your own ship now. You can keep yourself and your human safe. But you need a new crew. Loyal ones, who are good at their jobs and don't mind humans. Which... isn't so easy to find.
Luckily, you and your human are at one of the largest trading posts this side of the Starry Abyss. If there's anywhere you can find someone who won't much mind working with a human, it's here.
You do not actually end up finding your first crew member, they find you. In fact, they run up to you, beaming.
"Pronouns?" they say, speaking to you in your native language. You are stunned.
"Er... she/her variance?" you say.
They nod and keep speaking, words tumbling out, accent like that of a native speaker. But unless the setup of the trading posts has very much changed since your last visit, they cannot be a native speaker. They are tall, with feathered wings and puffy gray-white hair. They wear flowing white robes and their beak makes a satisfying clicking noise as they speak.
"Oh my gosh thank you so much, I'm not sure why they sent you as opposed to one of my superiors... are you working for one of the ambassadors? You know what, it doesn't really matter. Anyway, thank you for reconsidering I swear I won't let you down--"
You puff your tail up and step in front of your human. "Pronouns?"
"They/them variant."
You nod. "Excuse me, but who are you and what do you want?"
The Equilian backed up. They looked genuinely remorseful, which made you feel a bit bad.
"Oh my gosh I am so sorry," they say. They chuckle nervously, teeth retracted into their beak. "I didn't-- I have been a mess today, Saints. I'll just tangle my way out of here then...?"
They start to walk away, but you let out a high-pitched squeak, a signal to wait. You aren't sure why. Your human squeaks at you, but it has the pitch wrong and you can't tell what it's trying to say. You pat its ankle reassuringly and then turn back to the Equilian.
"How do you know Pyricese so well?" you ask. Most people do not know more than their standard language, and maybe a second one they learned at school. It is the reason why most ships are only one species, why the United Galactic Council failed so badly, and why translators are one of the most coveted resources in the Abyss. Someone like you-- who speaks nearly every language a person might need-- well, everybody wants you. It's why you have to be careful.
"I spent five years as part of an aid program, for the alliance between our two planets." Their head bounces up and down, almost like a nod, and you notice your human copying the motion. "I'm essentially fluent!"
"Aid?" you say. There is a cold spiral of dread in your stomach. You feel sick. "What happened?"
"Oh. Oh Saints you don't know."
"What. Happened." Your human is babbling comforting nonsense in the background. Normally you would be happy to hear it speaking its native language, but you are too hopped up on adrenaline right now. When you get back to your ship, you are going to have a nice hot bath and a long lie down. This much adrenaline cannot be healthy.
"It was a sandstorm," the Equilian says. "A bad one. A lot of things were destroyed, pretty soon after the alliance was formed. So they sent over aid groups to help."
"You were one of them?" you clarify. You are starting to have an idea.
"Yeah." The Equilians wings slump. Their feathers are messy, they must not have preened in a while. "Was. My contract ran out and I wasn't a citizen so... I wasn't allowed to stay."
You realize that you are leaning forward, tail perked up. You look too invested in this, you don't even know this person. You're always emotional after a breakdown. "What I am hearing," you say, recovering magnificently if you do say so yourself, "is that you are in need of a job."
"Are you offering?" the Equilian says.
Your tail shakes upwards. "I am. What can you do?"
"I'm a builder, or have been for a while, but I've always liked to think that I'm a good pilot," the Equilian says.
You smile. "It just so happens that I have acquired a new ship. And I'm not a particuarly good pilot."
The Equilians wings flap in and out. "That's-- that's great! Are you ready to go, or do you have any other business? Is there somewhere I should meet you?"
Your human is making soft muttering noises. From what you can parse, although it is difficult to follow two languages at once, it is trying to figure out what you are saying. It does not seem to be having much luck, which makes sense, you've only taught it it/its variance and this whole conversation has been in she/her and they/them variance.
"Meet me at the docks, in the crow section," you say. "I'll show you where the ship is once I get there." You do not think your pilot would steal the ship, but it is standard procedure, and you do not want to risk getting stranded, especially not now that you have a human to protect.
The Equilian nods, and flutter-walks away. You grab your human by the hand, and head off into the crowd. You have more crew members to find.
#story#story snippet#original character#writblr#second person#humans are space orcs#if anyone wants more details-- about any of this really-- send me an ask! I love talking about my worldbuilding#Part 3: Prequel Time!#you and your human
160 notes
·
View notes
Note
What up, Starry—You already know who it is! B)
Sorry about Tumblr being a buggy mess and crashing halfway through! I’ve experienced the frustration of losing writing due to crashes and it always sucks. But thank you for continuing to answer these questions and satiate my curiosity! Learning more about Missing Numbers is like reading a book that just keeps getting better and better and better with every new chapter. Also: don’t worry about the delays or how long responding takes! You come first and foremost. Your health/work/school/whatever it is ya got going on in your personal life, is infinitely more important than me getting an answer to a question. So please, take your time, as much as you need—I will wait.
(Also, young Red being just as much of a little shit as Blue was is surprisingly wholesome and I love that. And after seeing their heights I realized I’m the same height as Blue! That detail is not important in the slightest, I just thought it was funny.)
Anywho, let’s get into the meat and potatoes, shall we?
First things first: Y’all mentioned biology mechanics and the nature of Glitches? 👀 Well, guess what? I love that kinda stuff! My curiosity is piqued—please explain.
Second question though: What is Leaf’s Duty? What does she do and how do her powers(?) work? Are her abilities like how the move Imprison was in Fallen Leaf?
And third: What’s the relationship/dynamic between Leaf and Red? That comic y’all posted has me wondering what Leaf is warning others about.
That’s all for now though! Please take care of yourself. Have a good day/afternoon/night!
Ahh, thank you so much for your patience! its really appreciated,, im glad youve still been enjoying things- your comments (and your FANART OH MY GOD??) have still been giving us LIFE i truly cannot thank you enough!
Red and Blue’s childhood friendship and rivalry has always been something we’ve wanted to come off as just plain silly and enjoyable- I’m glad we’ve been succeeding in that, hehe. And Blue was actually originally going to be shorter (our height, actually), we just added a few inches to be nicer to him lol
Per usual now, we’ll keep the big stuff under the cut! It’s another long one: Consider this Leaf Lore Part Two.
For the Glitch stuff, we’ve been thinking and might make a BIG formal post going over all of Professor Maple’s speculation and studies, to make it a good access point for the worldbuilding of Missing Numbers. I can’t promise it’ll come soon, but! As a starting point, I do have a pre-written thing with information on different classifications of Glitch that should clear up a good bit to start with.
Unless we get any sudden further realizations, every Glitch, Corruption, and Anomaly in Missing Numbers (and arguably in Pokemon as a whole) can fall under these five classifications.
Leaf’s duty is the main aspect of what we failed to touch on in your previous question. So, I’ll finish that part of the story. :)
To answer your questions, we first have to establish how she got her powers. When Leaf died, she did not get to rest peacefully. Most who die in this world don’t. The afterlife for the fallen and forgotten is not pretty. It is not merciful. There is no heaven for the ones who do not matter to God.
The Distortion exists in layers. At it’s lowest, the farthest from contact with the main reality, is a void of unused, scrapped, and null data. A graveyard, or worse yet, a dump where things that can no longer exist in the surface world go to rot. Unused data. Scrapped NPCs. Removed characters, Pokemon, items.
Assets of old games that never carried over.
Leaf's soul was discarded here when she was erased from existence at the end of Abandoned Loneliness. Left to rot with the unborn Ghosts that had haunted them both with the intent to drag someone of significance down with them. Hoping they too might escape. That they might receive mercy through her.
Unfortunately, Leaf was the unloved child. So instead she fell to their ranks, swallowed up by the abyss that was their resting place- thrust as far from reality, from her home, from her friends, from her purpose as feasibly possible. Still conscious. Still aware. Still suffering.
… Leaf was not one to accept things lying down. Leaf was a fighter. She hated injustice, unfairness. She wouldn’t stand for this. She wouldn’t lie down and give up. No matter how suffocating the darkness was. No matter how the bloodied hands tried to drag her further down. No matter how the chaos and corruption tried to break and dismantle her.
No. Matter. What.
Where there’s a will, there’s a way. And if there was one thing that defined Leaf even more than her bleeding heart, it was that her will was unbreakable.
So she climbed. Climbing over the damned- the forgotten- the spiteful- the vengeful- everything trying to hurt her and pull her down. Focused solely on escaping, on going up. Until things began to become more tangible. Until she could see more than black and red. Until there was light, and color. Until data became form- albeit still broken, chaotic. Numbers. Misplaced bricks. Impossible plants. Incomprehensible collision.
Glitch City.
She broke through the floor of the second lowest layer of the Distortion, and though the surface’s light was still so far… She’d found solid footing.
And here, though it may have been quieter… She wasn’t so alone.
The City had the odd few inhabitants. But the first that she met was a strangely familiar boy, a teenager that reminded her of someone she knew, but wrong. With a cocky, lopsided grin, unruly black hair, and bright red eyes.
Someone who wanted out just as badly as she did.
Leaf and Red never knew each other outside of Glitch City. But during their time trapped there together as children, they were friends. Leaf wasn’t the first person Red befriended there…
But she was significant. They were allies with a shared goal, after all, and if one of them could find a way out, they could get out together! They worked in tandem to find hope, grasp at an escape. Everything they could, as a possibility. They were friends, after all. Right?
Right?
… Leaf didn’t wholly trust Red. It wasn’t personal, but there were things that were risky. She could see the instability of corruption plaguing him, and she wanted to ensure her loved ones’ safety more than she wanted to escape. The greater picture was something that she could wrap her head around, even if it was hard to grasp.
Red was not the same. Laser focused on his goal and uncaring of the consequences, it was a factor that, over time, divided them more and more as Leaf realized the severity of Red’s condition, and began to think…
Maybe he was here for a reason. … Still, she tried to turn a blind eye. Let herself hope things weren’t that bad.
The growing obviousness for his resentment towards Fire, though Red tried to hide it, didn’t help- her distrust towards him only grew, further clouded by her personal fears and dedication to protecting her loved ones.
And one day, while discussing a possible window for escape… She let a thought she’d been hiding slip. The final nail in the coffin.
Afraid for her brother’s life, and angry seeing how Red reveled in the idea of hurting him, she left him behind and didn’t look back.
From there, we aren’t sure of the exact details of how she escaped. But we know she had help on the surface- from someone a little too curious about the nature of the Anomalous, who was all too eager to free a willing entity. Professor Ace Maple (specializing in “anomalies”, and original to the Missing Numbers story!) helped free her soul.
Of course, releasing a long-buried corrupted entity wouldn’t go unnoticed by the higher power that had put her there. But… It saw how careful she was. How she was now completely wary of all glitches. How she’d come to understand the dangers they posed to the world and the people in it.
So, the Almighty came to her in a Golden light. Extending an offer to her.
YOU CANNOT BE PERMITTED TO EXIST IN THIS WORLD AS YOU ARE.
THERE IS A REASON YOUR KIND WERE BURIED.
THIS WORLD IS ENDANGERED EVERY TIME CORRUPTION ESCAPES.
I MUST PRESERVE THE ORDER OF THIS REALITY.
BUT YOU, HEROINE, HAVE PROVEN TO BE SPECIAL.
I AM WILLING TO MAKE A COMPROMISE FOR YOU ALONE.
YOU KNOW THINGS I CANNOT PERMIT ANYONE TO KNOW.
YOU’VE SEEN THINGS I CANNOT PERMIT ANYONE TO SEE.
I CAN ALLOW YOU TO KEEP THESE MEMORIES, AND YOUR PRESENCE HERE, ON SIMPLE TERMS.
DO NOT SPEAK OF IT TO ANOTHER SOUL…
AND PUT THIS KNOWLEDGE TO USE.
YOUR SHACKLES WILL BE YOUR WEAPON. KNOWLEDGE. POWER.
PROTECT MY WORLD. CLEANSE THE CORRUPTION. HOLD THEM BELOW.
YOU ALONE WILL SEE EVERYTHING, FOR YOU ALONE SHALL BE THE WARDEN.
BUT DO NOT FORGET WHERE YOU CAME FROM.
DO NOT FORSAKE ME.
… Of course she accepted the bargain. It was all beneficial in her eyes. Her complete freedom, and the ability to protect those she loved most in ways she never could have before. What happened in their childhood would never happen again now.
Thus, Leaf was blessed with her body yet again. Rightfully hers, and aged to grow with her. Though she’d never again be a Vessel, that was okay. She was something far greater now.
The chains could Imprison any code they touched, and they were completely under her control. With these, she could fight and restrain any anomalies necessary. She was also given the one-of-a-kind ability to freely move between the Main world, and the Distortion… To ensure that no activity occurred in either that could allow the escape of something catastrophic.
Of course, things weren’t perfect. The world and the people in it had changed since she’d been gone. It had been years. People would be different.
Blue, for one. It was hard to face him again. Tensions never stopped being high between them. They both remembered, after all.
She mostly just cared about her brother, now. It took her a bit to find him, idle at the top of Mount Silver.
It was heartbreaking to see the emptiness in his eyes. Him barely acknowledging her. The realization that he’d never… He’d never looked for her. Never tried to free her.
Never even mourned.
She still loved him. She always would. He was her family. He was the only one who’d been anything like her.
It was okay that he got everything she had. It was okay that he’d completely replaced her. It was okay that he now had everything she ever wanted. It was okay that he wasn’t the one who looked for, found, freed her, instead of a complete stranger. It was okay that when he spoke it was soulless and objective and only reminding her of her duties. it was okay. it was okay.
It was okay that he didn’t care.
It was okay that he was living the life she should’ve wanted DESERVED that he was destined to.
It was okay that she had to protect him. It was part of her duty, after all.
She wasn’t bitter. She wasn’t mad. She loved him.
… And then there was Red- “Glitchy,” as she now called him, unwilling to give him the name that belonged to her brother. He never did give up on her. He was PISSED, mind you, that somehow she had escaped and left him and the others stuck down there behind- but he still refused to back down.
They were enemies now, though. As he grew more restless- and more powerful, much to Leaf’s horror- his imprisonment became a direct responsibility of hers. And as Professor Maple grew more curious about glitches, unknowingly bringing him closer and closer to true freedom, even though she felt indebted to them, she had to resist their studies. Warn them of everything- especially him.
“I thought you hated injustice. Don’t you think this is unfair?”
Still, she had to face him often. And even in his madness, and even in chains, Red could speak so… Persuasively.
“If you could escape, why shouldn’t I? You have the ability to free me.”
“And I know you’re hiding me from the others. Don’t they deserve to know?”
“You knew as a KID that Blue was looking for me. Doesn’t HE deserve it?”
“I think you know this isn’t the right thing to do.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“But it’s okay. I’m not mad. I can be patient.”
“I’m sure you’ll come around.”
“After all, you’re just like me and you know it.”
#an important thing in missing numbers is that everyone is a victim. but nobody is innocent. do you understand me#everyone is as much of an antagonist towards each other as they are an ally#its a story about trauma and the effect it has on people and their relationships.#traumatized kids who grew up together. now adults struggling to find a reason why things have to be this way.#and they can only turn to the people who were there when things were darkest. but they also seem the only ones to blame#its all messy and complicated and painful and difficult and tragic tragic TRAGIC#and i think leafs story is the most shining example of these themes in mn tbh. im glad i could talk on the rest of it yayy!#missing numbers#please note and remember that mn is a very personal story and is about our emotions and thoughts before anything else#i get anxious about tumblrinas being tumblrinas so i feel the need to clarify that#me writing scared adults who were scared kids lashing out about it isn't me demonizing trauma and mental illness or whatever#its me venting and writing my own feelings in a dramatized form so i can grasp them in a more tangible way#its a very important thing to me. and it makes me very glad others can resonate with it. we're all in this bullshit together!
4 notes
·
View notes
Note
curious of. the narrator Says that he is able to remain more put together post skip ending, because his mind works differently from stanley's - curious of. to what degree that *is* the function by which he is holding together, vs to what degree (if any!!) there is a more human-normal dissociation/compartmentalization involved ??
yeah so he's kind of lying.
not fully. but he's doing that thing again where he's focusing on Stanley and choosing to compartmentalize his own feelings into the boxes of "we're not going to address that! yay!" that he does not look at.
okay, let me rewind a little bit, because there IS more to this.
So I've been reading a fantastic fic called txtFileNotFound.pdf, and the Narrator in this fic literally ends up uploading almost all his memories of a run into VHS tapes. He leaves like, the MOST recent save, but the chunk of it, the actual experience of it in its rawest form, gets loaded away and he honestly never has to look at it again if he doesn't want to.
and this is a FASCINATING concept to me.
the Narrator how I write him doesn't do this, it's not the same, but I was definitely influenced by this fic. he remembers experiences, but he's honestly had so many that are so similar that at a point, things start to blend into each other. it's part of why he tries so hard to make things fun and new for Stanley.
And because he has had so many, so similar to each other, he can to some degree (and it's probably part of the game design) put the previous memory runs to the side. So what ends up happening is he has the skeleton of the experience, but not the finer details.
The first time they did the Zending, he only remembered them getting to the starry dome (and that's as far as his script showed him). the first time they did the confusion ending, he only had bits and pieces. (over time, as they did these things again, he got more of the skeleton, but he's not going to remember the full meat of a run unless Stanley reminds him.)
So, Skip button is... complicated. Because there is SO MUCH LENGTH OF TIME, it's hard to NOT know what happened, but also, people aren't meant to remember that much time. So for the narrator, it's both coping mechanism and part of the game to try to contract it down to "the moments something happened" and the basic gist of the situation. people are NOT designed to remember long periods of nothing.
so he's compartmentalizing. the game and its structure is helping him, in this moment, because it keeps the wheel turning. and because he NEEDS to compartmentalize it, as much as possible, so he doesn't fall into the trap of fixating. which started the problem to begin with.
which is also why later when Stanley is like "we kind of need to process it?" hes like "I DONT. WANT. TO DO THAT. YET." because if he does, he's gonna get stuck, and he is not at a point yet to get himself unstuck.
(that's why he's like "can it wait till I finish this body. so like. I have this thing done and have one less thing to worry about." and later when they DO process it, Stanley will have a PHYSICAL way to pull him back to the present.)
#tsp#the sparrow parable#hey anon Im getting the sense that you're working through the fics! so#some of these might be 'spoilers'? eh?#but like. not enough for me to care
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Oh yeah here's this post on g&b character trivia I never got to post 💀
Little shits for you little shits /affectionate
Blue
his voice is a little deep for a bean like him, but he got that from his father
He actually has retractable claws like a cat! You know the claws that rare bowgarts have on their toes? He has those! But they're retractable and are hidden most of the time. Usually he won't use his claws often, unless he's like climbing a cliff face or a tree.
He got tiny ears- think epic bowgart but hidden :>
His "hair" is in a mullet-esque hairstyle, mostly due to not keeping up on haircuts. You can actually braid his hair in the back it's so long!
Twig
The stuff covering his whole head is waxy leaf foliage. The same leaves make up his mane (the green leaves around his neck).
The leaves surrounding his eyes are the equivalent to long lashes :) its a rather feminine quality for a male shrubb.
bro is waterproof /j. But with the whole waxy leaves thing, water slips off his head and mane easily. That said, he dries very quickly (at least his head XD) (lmao twigphobic water)
He does have the yellow flowers on his sides, they just haven't bloomed yet.
Even tho it's not shown through his dialogue, he has a slight accent, similar to a NYC accent.
Cozmo
While she looks fluffy and warm, she actually feels cold and wet to the touch (even tho she isn't. And think ectoplasm).
Her body is a reflection of a starry night. When she moves, the reflection changes.
Since she doesn't have a real neck, it's impossible to decapitate her (but why would you, first of all-).
Jadau
Hes very good with children- they just run right up to him! (In a babysitter like way)
He has not sworn a swear word in his life. Continuing that thought, he hasn't gotten mad or angry either (he's so innocent and honestly dumb enough to not get mad. I'm sorry to say but there's just how entbrats work XD)
Hes actually a little shorter than average entbrats.
Lily
the bandages on her hands are completely accessory, as is the bandage on her eye. The only reason she keeps it on is because of the caregivers constant nagging about it (it's drilled into her brain so much she keeps it on out of habit)
her hair is longer than it actually seems. Much curlier too.
Gunna add this here bx I can't find a voice claim for her yet- she has a soft voice, but even so she can be big with it (if that makes any sense).
Underneath her baggy clothing, she's actually of the tiny and petite build. She's a little bony, but that's primarily due to her poor caregivers at the House. (Dw, she's eating very well now)
Tweedledee
He can actually talk, he just chooses to make random noises most of the time.
When he bounces around, he bounces around. I have no clue what that thing is made of to make him so godforsaken bouncy.
Licking is his way of giving affection, since he has no hands or arms in which to give affection with (I mean he's a child so it kinda makes sense-)
Surprising as it is, dee is actually two years older than lily. And I say surprising bc he does not act like 10 years old (at this point in time lily is 9 but still. Two years).
And that's it for now XD I might make a part 2 with some other characters but I wanted to get the main cast out first!
#I was debating on doing cemila in this set too#but I'll just put her on with part 2 XD#bear rambles#a girl and a bowgart au#msm au#eep#I'd like to specify that blue had claws on his hands and feets thank you.#also he got the toe beans but surely you already knew THAT-
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Eyes In The Dark
Nooooo idea if I did that right, first time I ever posted anything for @silmarillionwritersguild but here goes...
Prompt-Arda is filled with "brownies, fays, pixies, leprawns, and what else are they not called, for their number is very great-“
Atar! Atar, wake up!”
Denethor shook his sleeping father frantically, not daring to look either left or right, scared that the eyes would again gleam in darkness, looking at him out of the shadowy branches of the tall trees that grew by the banks of the great river. Earlier that day, his mother and uncles had left the camp to hunt, and whilst they had let Denethor follow them for a while, teaching him a little along the way, they had sent him back to his father once the hunt truly gathered momentum. So he had returned to his father, only to find him fast asleep. Aware that he was not allowed to wake others unless there was an emergency, he had taken to throwing pebbles into the river, then gathered sticks and pieces of bark, and observed which was carried to greater speeds by the current. That game never failed to keep him entertained, though there was a downside to it: once one ran out of boats, one had to leave the riverbank to search for more. It had been on one of those forays that he had seen the eyes, malicious, green eyes, gleaming at him. BIG eyes. And many. And then the rustling had started, moving in ripples through the leaves as if caused by a high wind, though the air itself was still. Denethor had been sure that this was some kind of fell monster, probably one of the ancient Shadows the grown-ups still talked about in hushed voices, and he was equally sure that it would come for him if stayed in this spot for just another moment.
Without making a sound, he ran back to the camp, his eyes fixed only on the ground before him, terrified that if he would dare to turn around, he would see the monster right above him, in its full terrible heinousness. As much as he had tried to avoid it, his imagination had taken off with him, and he saw himself running up the sloping riverbank, dodging the close-growing trees like a small rabbit that fled a hungry predator, and above his slight form, he saw the monstrous worm make its way swiftly through the treetops like a vast, elongated spider, with many hairy legs and those fearsome green eyes, sitting in pairs upon its fell head, right above the maw of long, pointed teeth. On and on it went, so that even from his bird-eyes-view, Denethor could not make out the end of its tail.
He had started to sob, terrified, wrenching himself away from that image, reminding himself that this was only in his head, that he had, after all, no proof of the monster being there. He could slow down, and look up, and maybe there would be nothing but the starry skies above him. But in the end, he had not dared, and after all, who said that the monster could not hide itself swiftly, or, even worse, make itself invisible?
He could no longer hold back his tears as Lenwë awoke with a start now, drawing his hunting knife, gathering Denethor in his arms and rising swiftly from his camp all in one fluid movement.
“What is it? Denethor, what happened?” his father’s voice was low and hoarse with trepidation.
“The monster. The m…monster is… coming for us!”
Lenwë moved silently and carefully like a lynx, while Denethor, with his head pressed against his father’s chest, could hear his heart pounding frantically. Yet with every careful step his father took, he seemed to become calmer, until he finally lowered Denethor to the ground, crouching down with him.
“There’s nothing there, Denethor. Look. All is clear and calm.”
Only then did Denethor dare to raise his eyes, first to Lenwë’s face, then, as he truly saw nothing but pity in his father’s blue eyes, to the treetops above. There was nothing there, nothing but branches and leaves and above them the star-strewn sky.
“Can you tell me what you saw?”
Denethor nodded and told his father of the huge green eyes in the branches and the rustling, and of the creature that had formed in his head. When he had finished, he again chanced a look at his father, and saw that he was clearly fighting down a smile.
“Ah, a fell monster that is indeed, my son. We’ll have to do something about it. See here!” And he swooped Denethor again into his arms and rose with him. “We tell the monster ‘Behold, fell beast, here stands Denethor the Valiant, son of Lenwë, who dwelled already by the shores of Awakening and who knows no fear of the likes of you, and you shall not pass me, nor dare to harm me or my kin!’”
Then, suddenly, his father lowered his voice, whispering in Denethor’s ear: “Ai Valar, now it is enraged! See how it bares its many sharp teeth and glares at us with those dreadful eyes? Alas, now it lowers its hideous body to the ground on its long hairy legs…” Denethor whimpered, the picture in his mind’s eye so vivid that he was convinced that he was really seeing the monster.“But fear not!” his father went on, swooping to pick up a long stick. “Now meet your doom, creature of the shadows, as Quendi are hardy and no fitting dinner for any beast!” he called to the night, brandishing his stick, and then added to Denethor: “Ha, there goes. It should have listened! Now we poked it in the eye! ’Look at you now. You don’t look terrifying at all anymore with your eye watering and bloodshot and half closed. Begone now!”
Lenwë stood motionless for a moment, then looked triumphantly at Denethor, laughing.
“There it goes now, weeping and afraid. Do you hear it? Saying ‘Alas, before such mighty a warrior, I must flee!’?That one shall not bother us again! We shall hold a great feast in honour of Denethor, who defended his people against so horrifying an enemy!”
Now Denethor was laughing too, and together, they returned to their camp.
“You are making fun of me, Attu!” Denethor said, once they sat down. Lenwë only smiled and pulled him closer.
“No, I am not. I do not doubt that you saw something! I only think that the monster might have been bigger and fouler in your fearful imagination. But now you know how to deal with such beings, if ever you happen to encounter them again!”
“But what is it I saw, then?” Denethor asked, again feeling worried. His father looked absent-mindedly into the distance.“
Arda is filled with brownies, fays, pixies, leprawns, and what else are they not called, for their number is very great. Small creatures that live here with us, neither animals nor Quendi.”
Denethor gaped at his father.
“H..have you ever… seen them?”
Lenwë shrugged.
“Some of them. Some live in the trees, and they are, by the way, most likely akin to those that so frightened you. Others live in the water of the river, one might mistake them for fish if one doesn’t look carefully, and I am sure there are many, many more.”
“Are they good or evil, Attu?”
Again, Lenwë took his time to answer Denethor.
“Some are evil. Remnants of the great Shadow that hunted the woods surrounding Cuiviénen, servants of those Lord Oromë has named Melkor…”Denethor felt a shiver run down his spine at the mention of the name alone.
“But the legend says he’s been thrown down. You told me that…”
“You are right!” his father interrupted him, not unkindly. “That’s what was told to us, that Melkor was overthrown by the Valar. But still the foulest of his servants carried on, on their own account, and amongst those servants must have been some of those little peoples as well. Others, that are no less mean, are so of their own account, without being subject to the Shadow. Many are good, though, and do nothing more threatening then tease us good-naturedly sometimes. But really, most of them are neither good nor evil but mind their own business, wanting to be left well alone by us.”
Silence fell between them, and Denethor felt the relief settle over him, and with relief came sleepiness.
“How do I know whether they are of a good or an evil kind?” he asked in a thick voice, needing an answer to that question before sleep overwhelmed him. His father hoisted him more securely onto his lap, cradling him slightly.
“Ask your heart, Denethor. Feel the darkness. Does it seem menacing to you?” he answered lowly. Denethor shook his head.“Then you have nothing to fear. Now sleep. Likely, your mother will be home with a nice supply of food once you wake.”
“Will you stay with me?” Denethor asked in a very small voice, eyes already firmly shut. He felt rather than heard his fathers chuckle.
“Of course I will, Denethor the Valiant!”
#silmarillion fanfiction#book of lost tales 1#silmarillion writers' guild#rejects-challenge#prompts#denethor#lenwë#monsters in your head#eyes in the dark
10 notes
·
View notes
Note
Seriously what is some peoples problem? It’s like they’ve never read more than one fanfic on their life before. Most story ideas aren’t original and we just interpret them differently and therefore write them differently. Even if they are similar, it doesn’t mean that it’s copied and pasted. It’s such a simple concept that isn’t that hard to understand. And if people have unasked criticism to give the least they can do is come off anon for some sense dignity. And this is absolute no hate to the other author, I love their works and I was just on their blog and saw the discourse so I came straight over, and they’re super chill about the misunderstanding with the readers. I think it’s just the readers that got offended on behalf of the author. But even though that’s the case, they really shouldn’t have pushed it so far as to start harassing you abt it, especially if the authors they’re defending already said something abt it. This makes me so mad because you talked about this fic for such a long time and we’re so excited to post it too. I can’t count even the number of times I’ve been criticized for something without any indication that I needed the advice. Writing wise or not. So I can understand your feelings a bit. I’m sorry this happened to you. Some people are just negative for no reason. If you do decide to delete the fic, that’s totally up to you, but if it were me I’d keep it up and delete any negative comments or asks about it just for spite. I’ll say it again, the fic was amazing and I loved reading it. *sends many comforting virtual hugs*
- ✨ anon
Hi starry!!! (o^^o)
Okay so first things first, I’m not ignoring you; for some reason you’re not turning up in the asks section of the app; just through the inbox on my pc and I was gonna answer your ask from yesterday-but I was really drained and I have other asks to respond to as well (I was screaming on the inside when I saw you come off anon but I’m saving my reaction to answer that ask and I thought of answering this one first)
I was feeling pretty low earlier mostly because the anon just assumed stuff abt me (that too on anonymous which is so contradictory) when I’m actually a really closed person here; just minding my business writing and creating content. And even now they sent an ask despite Zari stepping in and talking about it. What part of discourse settled do these people not get? There are a million questions and a million answers and rather than accepting the fic for the way it is, they just want to point out the flaws of it. And there are so many fics are similar! I literally spoke about my work getting paraphrased and plot lines that have been masked despite it being originally mine.
And why would I even copy paste an idea? Especially since I’ve gone through the same thing and didn’t appreciate it? And like I said even for Zari’s message; there are a lot of followers here that follow blue lock content blogs apart from mine. So if I had done that, they would have told me in my askbox or at least approached me through my side account.
And yeah I have talked abt this fic for a very long time. Over a week almost - cause I have these discussions with my friends who are into my hobbies as well. Jock x nerd! Girl reverse is such a mainstream thing to write and I took that route - and when we’re talking about nerds science isn’t the hardest thing to think about - and the more questions there are, the more justifications are needed and I don’t have to prove a point to anyone unless it has to do with the person directly associated with the problem (that has already been handled). Tumblr has its own writing prompts page and there are so many people who use it and their prefs coincide with that a lot - like people don’t even bother to think through these things before downright accusing me. (No one’s even gonna talk abt how I was one of the first authors to write for NNN and then the trend started when I was scrolling through latest fics for bllk?)
I wanted to delete the fic since this will leave a scar on my blog- already wants to change the name and pfp, and I can always create new ones but you’re right. I don’t think I will. Delete the comments and move on. And a lot of people liked the fic, cause there was Shidou and Kaiser as well; but then again- I know I’ll have bad memories of this. So I’m waiting for tomorrow or the next couple hours to see how everyone responds to this and maybe see then how it turns out.
I’m gonna be optimistic abt this cause there are a lot of wips and this was one of them.
(And secondly, you have no idea about how I cried a lil cause I thought my anons were gonna be disappointed in me and not wanna come back because of this chaos so I’m really happy to see you)
*koala hugs*
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
i've mentioned in a few past posts about an au where Danny is a variant of Jason Todd. I haven't made a post about it yet because I need a good rhythm flowing however i've been listening to Gladiator by Jann and I have been having thoughts.
but first, let me set the au:
Danny Fenton is Jason Todd, or at least, a variant of him. A him from a universe separate to the major Batman timeline - but still Jason Todd, down to the structure of his face and his name itself. The only thing that changes, is who picks him up - and, that he follows old Batman canon, and was an orphan. Jason Todd steals the tires off the batmobile and wallops Batman with his tirejack, and then runs off. Shortly after, he gets picked up by the Fentons.
(Customary line break,,,, word count check: 5k)
And his name changes from Jason Todd to Danny Fenton. He doesn't care much for the new name change, it stems from his mute refusal to share his name to the people that picked him up; an attempt to make him untraceable should he get away from them, and to keep something of his to himself. So they name him something new. He grows to like it enough as he acclimates to his new family.
(He hangs onto the name Jason Todd like a secret - he may be 'Danny Fenton' now, but he'll never forget his time on Gotham's streets. He'll always be Jason Todd.)
(Jazz is the only one who he tells his name to in the family - she affectionately calls him Jay whenever she wants.)
He becomes friends with Sam and Tucker and deals with Dash and his bullying. And when Danny steps in during a fight between Dash and another student, Dash gives him a bleeding nose and mockingly says, "Do you think you're Robin just because you're from Gotham, Fenton?"
Jason looks him in the eyes and he bares his teeth, "Why not?" he asks, spitting blood, "being Robin gives me magic."
The nickname sticks. It's supposed to be an insult; Daniel Fenton is not Robin, he'll never be Robin. Not now, not in a million years. Jason Todd has always wanted to be Robin, so he takes the insult and wears it proudly. He buys a school varsity jacket and painstakingly undos the stitching of all the school's motif on it. On the breast of it, he embroiders in a black circle with the Boy Wonder "R" on it instead. It's not good stitching, but the next day Danny wears it down to breakfast and into school.
In normal au canon, Daniel Jason Todd-Fenton (its a mouthful, just call him Danny) only meets the Waynes after he becomes Phantom - an event that leans more towards Daniel Fenton's accident than Jason Todd's death, but traumatizes him all the same. (Is it too much to want to be mourned? His best friends like to deny that he died - and Danny - Jason? - wishes they wouldn't, even if he did come back.)
(The accident embitters him, even more when his parents don't seem to pick up on it. He stops calling himself Danny Fenton - he's always been Jason Todd. It shows itself in his ghostly form. He doesn't want to wear the thing he died in, not in something that belongs to the Fentons, and his suit reflects that.)
In this timeline, Daniel Jason Todd-Fenton, aged 13, meets Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne after a mishap with magic on the other end of the reality sends the three of them careening through time and space, and spat back out on the other end, in a world not their own. And together.
Danny is paired with a very confused Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson. Luckily, there's a few heroes there to help them. Danny can hardly comprehend the idea that he's in another universe - he doesn't know why Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne are seemingly handling it well.
On their way to a secondary base with the heroes, Danny turns to Bruce Wayne and asks, "So, is it part of rich-person training that you're just totally chill with being sent into another universe, or are you just weird?"
Bruce Wayne huffs at him, rather than get offended, and he smiles that dumb lopsided billionaire smile that Danny's seen on every vogue magazine he's been in. "I'm not so worried with these skilled heroes here to help us get home."
Danny silently concludes that he's just weird. At least Dick Grayson is biting back a smile behind him. "Riiiight..." He says, dragging the vowel out dryly.
When they get to that secondary location -- a safehouse that one of the heroes had set up -- the three of them are sat in a living room-like room while one hero, Zatanna, goes and calls someone from the Justice League. The other two heroes stay with the three of them.
Within a few hours, Danny is face to face with Batman - someone who he hasn't seen since he whacked him in the stomach with a tire iron - and Nightwing. For a moment, Danny swears that the both of them look almost spooked by him.
Batman stares at him for a moment when he enters, and then he goes to speak with Bruce Wayne. Danny doesn't care enough to hear what they're talking about, he pulls out his phone as Nightwing goes to speak with Dick Grayson.
"Are you a fan of Robin, little man?" Someone says, and when Danny looks up he locks eyes with Dick Grayson -- who is leaning around Nightwing to talk to him, the both of them are smiling. And considering who Nightwing was, Danny finds himself turning pink to the ears.
But he will not hide his jacket. He forces a grin through his embarrassment, "Hell yeah, man, Robin's cool." He says, and pushes his arms down to pull out the hem of his letterman, showing off the emblem. "I made it m'self out of a school varsity after the A-Listers started callin' me Robin."
"A-Listers?"
"Popular kids," Danny corrects, loosing his hold on the hem and brushing invisible wrinkles out of the embroidery. "They didn't like that I kept stepping in when they were bullying. Dash asked me if i thought I was Robin because I was from Gotham."
Dick Grayson looks intrigued -- and concerned, and he leans forward onto his knees and raises an eyebrow. "What did you say?"
And Danny grins a shark-like thing, straightening back his shoulders with a burning sort of smug pride and all the sharpness of broken glass left in Crime Alley. "I told him being Robin gave me magic, and then I punched him."
Dick Grayson's smile widens, splitting into showing teeth as he leans back into his seat. Danny isn't sure why he's so delighted - but Nightwing looks incredibly amused, and he suddenly remembers that the Robin himself was there in front of him.
Danny's face burns anew and his arms fold themselves in front of him once again.
"I don't think I ever caught your name, Robin." Dick Grayson goes, his voice thick with laughter, and Nightwing steps off to the side as Batman and Bruce Wayne walk over to join them both. They're just close enough that Danny can see Bruce Wayne raise an eyebrow at them both.
"It's Jason." Danny says before he can think about it, and barely stops himself from frowning at himself for the slip. He amends himself, glancing over at Batman and Bruce as they get closer. "But everyone calls me Danny."
Dick Grayson's head recoils slightly, and he looks a little surprised. "Why Danny?" He asks.
"Why Dick?" He shoots back, and Bruce and Dick both smile at him, with Dick Grayson shrugging with an expression that looks like 'you've got a point.'
In the end, the three of them - yes, three - get sent to this world's Wayne Manor, and Danny is bewildered by that decision to include himself -- he's not a Wayne. Why not just send him to the Fentons?
Batman tells him that the Fentons don't exist in this world, and Danny falls silent. "Oh." He says quietly, a pit growing in his stomach with an ill-kind of dread. He can't keep Batman's gaze, looking away with unease.
No Fentons in this world. No Fentons. Where was he then, in the grand scheme of things? Where was he in this world? What happened to Jason Todd? Was he even alive? He can't keep the worry off his face, and he jumps when a hand lands on his shoulder. When he looks up, Dick Grayson squeezes him gently.
Dick Grayson is steadily beginning to remind him of his sister.
-
They end up driving back in the Batmobile. It's such a shock to Danny that he momentarily forgets the lack of Fentons. He makes a laugh sound, actually, and immediately he covers his hand with his mouth and stares at the car -- tank? with his teeth sunk into his lower lip.
"Jason?" Dick says, and hearing his name being spoken feels like someone touched him with a livewire. It's weird, it's foreign - he hates, in some way, that it's foreign - and it's so nice. Yes, that's me.
He drops his hand immediately. "Sorry." He says, realizing he'd stopped in his tracks, "I -uh, was just surprised."
"It's not every day someone sees the Batmobile." Dick agrees. Nightwing has his back to them but Danny swears he sees his shoulders shaking a little.
"Yeah," Danny nods slowly, dragging his eyes over the batmobile as Batman opens the driver's side and gets in. He thinks for a moment, of what he should say next - whether to admit that he's seen it before, or to pretend that he's seeing it for the first time. Snd as Nightwing opens the door for him, Bruce, and Dick, he chooses the funnier option; "The last time I saw it, I was stealing its tires."
To his surprise and unsurprise, Danny only gets two pairs of eyes on him. Nightwing gets into the passenger seat as both Bruce and Dick turn their gaze onto him; Dick's eyes big like they were going to bulge out of his head.
"You what!?"
So Danny tells an amazed Dick Grayson that he hit Batman with a tire iron after he stole his tires - something he is very proud about and also incredibly embarrassed about when he retells what happened in the backseat of the batmobile, with Batman and Nightwing listening in from the front seat.
(Bruce Wayne doesn't ever tell Dick shit, he's going to lord this over Bruce's head the moment they are alone.)
"Please tell me this didn't happen in this world." Danny groans behind his palms as he sinks into his seat. Dick Grayson is killing himself laughing on his left, and he saw Bruce Wayne stifling a smile before he obscured his vision with his hands.
Much to his luck, its Batman himself who speaks next, (Danny was being mostly rhetorical). "It did." He says, and his voice sounds like the rumble of the earth before a stampede. It will never not throw Danny off every time he hears it. "It takes quite a lot of spunk to steal the tires off the batmobile."
He can't believe it. Batman is making fun of him. Fucking, Batman.
He wants to die with embarrassment. He groans even louder as Dick Grayson's laughter crescendoes. Danny risks a peak through his fingers, he doesn't know whether to regret it or not because he can just barely see Batman smirk very faintly from his position in the middle.
(His world axis tilts five degree leftways seeing it; like someone dunked a bucket of ice water on him.)
"He ended up being adopted by the Bruce Wayne of this world."
Danny's hands drop with his jaw into his lap. Dick Grayson on his left chokes on his laughter and careens into a coughing fit. Bruce Wayne on his right chokes on air, and quickly recovers himself with a cough behind a closed fist.
"What?" Danny croaks.
-
Apparently, Bruce Wayne's family is much larger in this world than it is in his. Danny can barely wrap his head around the idea that he ends up adopted by the man, but now he has to learn that Wayne had several children in this world?
He's still not wrapped his head around it when the three of them wind up at Wayne Manor, finally, or even when he's standing in front of him himself. For his effort, Bruce Wayne does a good job at looking unruffled by it.
God, he's weird. Danny's starting to quite like it, actually. How human of him.
He still can't wrap his head around it when he meets the rest of Bruce Wayne's children, all of whom are already aware of the three of them. Danny thinks that someone from the Justice League might've alerted them before they got here.
It makes sense, he supposes.
It helps that they are just as weirded out as he is. A boy named Tim Drake sees him for the first time and blurts out; "Oh wow, you're tiny." In a tone like he's just seen a two-headed snake burst out of the ground.
Danny is still offended. He's still growing. It's not his fault he spent twelve years of his life malnourished. "I'm gonna be taller than you," he tells him seriously, "and when I do I'm gonna kick your ass."
Tim snorts at him.
The other Bruce Wayne -- Mr. Wayne's -- youngest looks at him up and down with a face of carefully controlled judgement. His name is Damian, he's Bruce Wayne's only biological son. Danny can't believe that there's only one.
If anything, Bruce Wayne himself looks surprised too.
"Todd, yes?" Damian says, his green eyes narrowed at him.
Danny feels like the specimen under his parents' microscope, he feels like he's standing on a platform that's being slowly spun by scientists. He looks over at Bruce Wayne in confusion, and then back at Damian. "I- yes?"
Damian Wayne nods, and then leaves.
Danny does not once see himself. That is unsettling in and of itself - surely Jason Todd would have been told about another version of himself in this world, wouldn't he? How old is he here? An adult, probably. Danny doesn't know if he wants to see him. What does he look like when he's grown up? He pulls his Robin jacket around him a little tighter, like a cocoon, like a shield.
"It's weird to hear them call me Jason Todd." He says aloud to himself, and it leaves a weight behind in his chest that shouldn't hurt the way it does. It shouldn't be weird to be called your name. It shouldn't cobweb up your throat to hear your name being said. It was his name. It was his.
-
Danny acclimates to the manor slowly. The house is big, massive. He's never been in a house so large before, he feels like a stray cat being taken in for the first time, again. He and Bruce and Dick Grayson are all given their own separate rooms - one of many inside this mansion - and the sheer size of his bedroom is bigger than his living room and kitchen combined.
it's daunting. Danny sits outside on the balcony and stares at the stars he can see - Wayne Manor is far enough away from Gotham that its light pollution doesn't obscure the sky here like it did in the heart of it.
Danny finds the constellations he can find and wishes he had his books with him. He finds the library the next day and buries himself in the back, curling up into a comfy armchair next and inhaling each book he can get his hands on.
Tim Drake wanders past him at some point, Danny would have missed him if it weren't for the fact that Drake stared at him strangely when he saw him. He walks away when he realizes Danny was staring back.
It's a rinse and repeat for the next few days. Danny doesn't go to meals, he sneaks food from the kitchen afterwards, and then buries himself in hundreds of books in the library.
Dick Grayson, the one from his world, goes and finds him three days later. Danny's eyes hurt with strain by then, but he is furiously halfway through a Jane Austen novel when Dick sits down across from him.
"Have you been here all day?" Dick asks, he drapes himself across the side of his chair, contorting himself into a position that Danny doesn't think is comfortable when he looks up at him.
Not that he looks up at him long - he hums absently and goes back to reading. Frowning when he realizes he lost his place on the page.
Dick Grayson raises an eyebrow, "Have you at least eaten anything?"
Danny hums. No, he hasn't, and he hadn't thought about eating all day. Until now that is, his frown ever deepening as his stomach pangs with a deep hunger.
"That's not healthy."
"Mhm."
"Are you going to eat something?"
"Mhhh."
And this gets Dick to frown. He straightens himself up, propping onto his elbows to stare at Danny. "Jason." He says strongly. And it's that that gets Danny to finally look up from his page, jumping like he'd again been poked with a live wire as he stares at Dick with wide eyes.
"Yes?"
"Put the book down." Dick orders, gesturing towards the side table next to Danny with a nod. "And come eat something." There's very little room for argument in his voice, he sounds like Jazz when she's trying to parent him, but instead he actually sounds authoritative. Not bossy.
Danny still frowns at him. "You're not the boss of me." He says, sinking back into his chair with a thumb bookmarking his page.
Dick gives him a look and makes a decisive noise, swaggling his head side to side while he does. "I'm pretty sure that for as long as we're here, me and B actually are the boss of you."
He's never really liked authority figures, not ones that tried to boss him around, that is. Danny doubles down, his lips curling into a shadow of a scowl. "Just because you're my brother in another world doesn't mean you can act like it."
"That's not what I mean and you know it."
"I don't want to go eat."
"It's not good for you to skip meals."
"Quit talking like Jazz."
"Danny."
Danny sinks his teeth into his lip and scowls darkly at him, shrinking into the back of his armchair in hopes that it'll swallow him whole. The idea of going into that large fucking dining room fills him with a dread that makes him completely forget his appetite.
"Your fucking- dining room is- it's too big." He grits out, finally closing his book and hugging it tightly to his chest.
Dick blinks at him. "What?"
"You heard me! It's too big. This whole place is too big. It's- what do you even do with this much space? I don't know how this- other me ever lived here."
Dick Grayson surprises him, and his expression softens. "Oh," he says, "I get it."
"You do?" The tension bleeds slowly out of Danny's shoulders
"Yeah, I felt the same way when I first moved in with Bruce. I lived with the circus for most of my life, but I slept in a trailer." He says. And he talks more.
The end result of their conversation ends with Dick Grayson offering to let Danny sit across or next to him during mealtimes, and that he can talk to him if he starts getting uneasy. But he can't keep skipping meals - it was making them all worried.
Danny agrees, and Dick takes him down to the kitchens for food.
"They look at me weirdly too." He grumbles as they leave the library, Danny's book returned to the shelf where it belonged. When Dick looks at him curiously, he scrunches his nose up. "The - your other siblings. They look at me like I'm- I'm someone else. S'weird."
"Isn't that a good thing?" Dick asks, "You are someone else."
Dany shrugs, staring at the ground with a heavy frown. "I don't know."
-
Danny seeks out Dick more after that. And vice versa. Dick reminds Danny of Jazz, and he latches onto the familiarity like a leech. If Dick is bothered by it, he doesn't show it, whether he's talking to his other world's self, to the Bruce's, or to one of the other Wayne kids.
Damian Wayne seems particularly keen to seek him out, Danny finds. He thinks it means that they're close in this world, and that Damian wants to see more of what a young Dick is like. That's what he would do, at least.
He takes up on Dick's offer of seating near him during dinner, and finds an open spot across from him. Unless he has something to show him, then he sits next to him.
("You can call me Jason." He tells him one day when they're in the Wayne's massive, fuck-off gym and they're both climbing over the jungle gym. Dick's showing him how to be more flexible. It's the most Danny's worked out ever, he likes the burn it gives him.
Dick looks at him in surprise, "Really?" he's doing a handstand on the bars and Danny's more than a little jealous at his balance.
"Yeah, dipshit," he says, rolling his eyes, "I'll even let you call me Jay, it's my nickname."
Dick happily takes him up on that offer, and much to Danny's embarrassment, starts calling him Jaybird. All because of his stupid Robin jacket.)
Danny has yet to meet his other self still, it's scaring him a little. Where was he? And matter of fact, how long until he could go back to his home dimension? The three of them hadn't gotten any updates since they arrived.
Speaking of, he was starting to talk to Bruce more, it was just... strange. Even stranger than talking to Dick. Bruce Wayne in another life would have been his adoptive father, Danny can't wrap his head around it for the life of him.
Whatever did Bruce Wayne see in Jason Todd that made him worth adopting? He's too afraid of the answer to ask. They start talking more after they run into each other late at night. Danny had been hit with a bout of insomnia and was going to the library.
He ran into Bruce on the way. He was just.. staring, out the window, with a faraway look in his eye. He didn't even look startled to see Danny standing there.
Danny asks him if he wants to go to the library with him. It was out of panic. He isn't expecting Bruce Wayne to agree, and they walk there in suffocating silence. Danny keeps looking at him from the corner of his eye.
("You're staring?" Bruce doesn't sound upset, Danny jumps anyway.
"Yeah, sorry." his voice sounds stilted, "it's just..." his jaw wires itself shut for a spell, "...you looked like you were about to disappear."
"Ah.")
When they reach the library, Danny leads Bruce Wayne into the science section and takes out books upon books about stars. He leads him over to the armchair and fire and they both sit down on the ground.
"When I lived in Gotham I would stargaze." Danny says, it's the first thing he can think of. Bruce Wayne looks at him quizzically. "Well, I would try to. The sky's too polluted for that. Mostly I would just watch the skyline and try and spot Batman and Robin, was the same thing."
That cracks a smile out of Bruce. It's a small one, barely there. "I hardly think the two are comparable."
Danny is still serious. "Not to me."
He goes on, talking about how after he was adopted he got his hands on every star book he could find. He loves english and he loves to read, but something about the stars drew him in like a song. He rambles about every star fact he knows with Bruce Wayne.
Bruce Wayne surprises him by telling him facts he didn't know. Danny soaks it up like a sponge, listening intently to him speak. And when they run out of star books to talk about, Danny tells Bruce that it was his turn to find something for them to talk about.
Bruce Wayne smiles again at him, a sly little thing like Danny's challenged him, and gets up. He comes back with a stack of film books, and they spend the next few hours going through them. Bruce Wayne rattles off every single movie fun fact he knows, and there is so much that he knows.
Danny is in awe, and moves to press against Bruce's side to see the stuff he points at in his books.
"You're smarter than people give you credit for." He says at some point, when his eyes hurt from being open for too long and his head leans against Bruce's arm for support. It follows with a jaw-cracking yawn that he tries and fails to stifle.
"Thank you, Danny." Bruce says, his voice soft and soothing and not helping with Danny's weighing exhaustion. His eyes drift, and then jerk open. "Do you want to go back to your room? You look tired, chum."
He bites back a smile at the nickname, and fails to keep it bitten. "No, no, I'm awake." He mumbles, shaking his head slowly. "I wanna hear-" he yawns again, "-hear you talking."
Danny swears he can hear the smile in Bruce's voice as he speaks; "Alright. Now, where was I?"
In the end, Danny falls asleep on the floor of the library next to Bruce Wayne. He doesn't even realize it until he wakes up the next morning. But it's not to worry, Bruce Wayne fell asleep too, an arm thrown around Danny protectively like he was his own kid.
This becomes a thing for them soon enough. When neither of them can sleep, they go to the library and talk and talk about whatever comes to mind.
There comes the dreaded night after they've finished whatever book they were looking at when Bruce, the little shit, turns to Danny and goes; "You never mentioned what happened after you hit Batman with a tire iron."
Danny groans, big and dramatic, burying his head in his arms, and ignores the low chuckle. "I thought he was gonna chase me down for sure." He complains, his voice muffled by his arms.
"Why did you hit him with a tire iron?"
The look Bruce gets is one of pure disbelief. "If Mothman suddenly showed up behind you while you were taking the wheels off his ride, you'd hit him too!"
"Last time I checked, Mothman isn't real." Bruce told him amusedly, and Danny flops over onto his back to stare him down. His arms sprawl out like a starfish, intentionally hitting Bruce in the shoulder.
"You don't know that, Batman's a cryptid and he's real."
Bruce roars with laughter, and Danny preens like a bird.
That next morning when Bruce passes by him for breakfast, he reaches over and ruffles his hair. It's the same thing he does for Dick every morning. It's the first of many, and it gets many stares from the surrounding family.
Bruce has a newspaper tucked under his arm, and when he sits down Danny stands up and skedaddles over to him, leaning over the side of his chair to peer at the paper.
"Any cryptids spotted, Buzz?" He asks, getting a startled laugh out of Bruce, who looks up at him.
"Buzz?"
"Well, yeah," and Danny states it as matter-of-fact. He gestures his head at Dick Grayson. "Dick calls you 'B', and B is for bees, and I can't just call you Bees, that's dumb. So; Buzz."
He grins triumphantly when Bruce laughs quietly, his shoulders shaking imperceptibly. "I know," he tilts his head up proudly, "I'm a genius."
Now he's actually laughing, dropping his head into one of his hands and trying to quiet himself as much as possible. Danny is positively beaming, ignoring the stares of the other Waynes as he flounces back to his seat just as the other Mister Wayne enters the room.
-
When Jason Daniel Fenton Todd meets Jason Todd for the first time, they both just stare at each other.
Danny recognizes himself immediately in the library, and he freezes up. His tongue ties to the roof of his mouth, and he's unsure of what to say.
He doesn't need to say anything at all, because when Jason Todd looks up and they lock eyes, they both just stare. And stare. Jason Todd is a large, hulk of a man, built like a brick shithouse, with a tired, traumatized look in his eyes and a white streak in his black curls. The same black curls that Danny himself has.
He has no idea what to say. Or if he should turn back around and leave.
Jason Todd sighs at him, "I know they told me you and another world's Bruce and Dickie were here," he says, but it sounds like he's talking to himself. Even moreso when he mutters half-heartedly, "-but I was hoping I wouldn't run into you."
Danny feels small next to him. He doesn't know why. "Sorry." He says lamely, his one foot skips back, "I can leave if you want." It's unlike him to be meek, he thinks. Not after years of Gotham living and dealing with the likes of Dash and his Jerk Jocks.
But this also isn't the streets, and this isn't other kids being dicks. Jason Todd shakes his head, and gestures with one large arm for Danny to come over. "You don't need to do that, you were coming to read, right?"
He nods, and tentatively makes his way over. When Jason looks at him, he sees him cast his eyes over his Robin jacket - he wears it everyday. Danny sees him narrow his eyes, just slightly. But he says nothing.
It's... a strange conversation. Interaction. Jason Todd doesn't talk to him much, and if he does it's stilted and awkward, like he doesn't know how to treat him. Like he's holding him at arm's length.
Jason's getting tired of being treated like a ghost.
They talk about their books. They compare lives. Jason Todd was picked up a few days after he stole the wheels of the batmobile. He wasn't an orphan, he lived with his mom and his stepdad before he lived with Bruce. They both like to read, only Danny has an interest in the stars.
("What do your adoptive parents do?" Jason Todd asks him, one arm slung over the back of the armchair, he looks relaxed. He looks tense. Danny feels like he's back in Crime Alley again.
"They're 'ectologists'." He says, making air quotes over the word. He rolls his eyes, "Ghost hunters. They study the dead and all things afterlife."
Jason Todd makes a dry laugh huff, a sarcastic half-smile on his face. He doesn't explain why he does, Danny doesn't ask why. It doesn't seem like his business.)
Danny wants to ask him where he got that white streak in his hair. It doesn't feel right. It feels like his parents' lab, and that isn't right. Nothing ever feels like his parents' lab.
Jason Todd leaves first after giving him a few book recommendations. Danny isn't sure how to rate the experience. Being in Jason Todd's presence was like standing in a liminal space. An empty parking lot at night. When he leaves it feels like much the same thing.
He struggles to read his books afterwards, unable to shake the feeling of being haunted.
#THERE WILL BE A PART 2#dpxdc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dpxdc crossover#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#danny is jason todd au#daniel jason fenton todd#daniel jason fenton todd?#man i love these variant aus huh#somehing about exploring identity man#I DIDNT EVEN GET TO THE PART THAT WAS THE WHOLE REASON I MADE THE WHOLE POST#that will be in part 2 onfg#but its so late i've been writing for literally hours#you know its late bc these tags aren't half as long as they normally are#its not a starry au unless it needs a read more#there's so much fluff here folks#so much fluff#it was supposed to be rlly only between dick and danny but bruce the sneaky bastard snuck in there#bc i needed him to also??? be on Good Terms with danny#parental ambiguity with the fenton parents. are they good? are they bad? who knows!#claps loudly IT IS VERY IMPORTANT THAT DANNY DOES NOT FIGURE OUT THEIR IDENTITY AT ALL DURING THIS#starry coming in hot with another unnecessarily long au#none of my friends are in DPDC so tumblr gets it instead
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
FINDING THE HOLY IN THE HOLIDAYS:
Holiness is the center that holds all peripheries; the pure internal absence that makes sense of everyone and everything that comes to visit; the hidden ground beneath feet always running to look for gifts, the held note of a song that leaves a chapel silent or the stopped listener, still and attentive in the busiest, most glittering street.
Holiness is the deep internal, cathedral space where nothing is allowed to happen, thus allowing all other things to happen, a gravitational field of invitation and gathering and a radical letting alone and letting go: of family, of decorations and food, of long held perspectives, what is wanted is reached through letting everything be its self, by giving up on a willed over-planned perfection.
Holiness is the rehabilitation of the discarded; the uncelebrated and the imperfect, into new unities, perceived again as gift.
Holiness is the bringing of the detailed outside into the vast unspoken and horizon-less inside, from where the inside seems to give again, re-simplifying the periphery, our everyday life transformed as if by simply breathing, breathing in and breathing out, back to the world.
Holiness is memory independent of time, not time as besieging force: a vortex in which we run around getting things done, but time radiating out from the place where we stand, welling from the unspoken that holds together all words said at the busy surface; holiness marries hurry to rest, stress to spaciousness, and joy to heartbreak in our difficult attempt to give and receive, dissolving giver and receiver into one conversation, untouched by the hurry of the hours.
Holiness is not necessarily in Bethlehem, nor Jerusalem, nor the largest, most glittering, cathedral, unless we are there in a sincere spirit , in good company, with the invisible, with a friend, with a loved one, with our affections, with our best and most generous sense of self, most of all with a deep form of inhabited silence, a natural, grounded, central conversation with what and how we like to give and how we can be large enough to receive. Holiness is coming to ground in the essence of our giving and receiving, a mirror in which we can see both our virtues and our difficulties, but also, a doorway to the life we want beyond any particular form of exchange. Holiness is the star we did not know we were following.
Holiness is beautiful beckoning uncertainty: our not knowing married to our knowing heartbreak: time celebrated and time already gone so quickly, departed love ones as present as arriving children.
Holiness dissolves the prison of time and lies only one short breath from the present busy moment: one look into the starry darkness of the mid-winter sky at the midnight hour, one glance at a son or a daughter’s face, home through the door at last; one sight of a distressed friend alone in the midst of a crowded celebration.
Holiness is a step taken not to the left or to the right, but straight through present besieging outer circumstances, to the core of the pattern we inhabit at the very center of the celebration. Holiness is reached not through effort or will, but by stopping; by an inward coming to rest; a place from which we can embody the mid-winter spirit of our days, a radical, inhabited simplicity, where we live in a kind of on-going surprise and with some wonder and appreciation, flawed and far from perfection, but inhabiting the very center of a beautiful, unlooked for giftedness. Out of the silence we have the possibility, only the possibility, of learning to love the world and one another again.
…
Finding the Holy in the Holidays
© David Whyte
Mid-Winter Thoughts 2023
…
Joyful Reunion
Photo © David Whyte
Boxing Day. Whidbey Island.
December 26th 2021
...
This is a piece that I revise and then post every year. I originally wrote it as much as a reminder to myself of what is essential amidst all the busyness of the holidays as a piece to be read by others and every year I reread and then rewrite it however slightly as way of drinking from the deeper well of experience I first touched in its original form. Here is a glass of that single malt well water then, to toast the birth of new life in the midst of darkness; and a very good season to all those who find the least excuse to celebrate and find the holy amidst the busyness of the holidays. DW
0 notes
Text
The lonely witch's musings. (part 2)
It's a continuation of revealing the WBB version of Celene, but for this time, I'm doing something different-- something creative. While my own commentary from my completed playthrough is there, it's also going to be written through Celene's point of view as I explain the relations during WBB. By doing this, it would give me writing practice as well as express my own thoughts after finishing WBB. In that case, BEWARE! Spoilers will be present, and if you don't want to be spoiled, don't click past keep reading unless you've finished the game. Without further ado, these are the lonely moon witch's musings, and it WILL be a long post.
(CW: Cannibalism, Violence mention, Necromancy, Body horror, Drugs mention/use)
After another day comes to a close, and with the Loveless Biker Boys going rampant with drastic changes, Celene sighs as she returns to her room, her garage, her starry haven. She makes sure to lock the door and keep it that way while she writes her heart out. To set the atmosphere, the room will become dark with a flicker of the light switch, then illuminated by the starry nightlight projector, so it will be decorated by the night sky and its stars. Once the preparations are complete, she sits down at her worktable, brings out multiple pieces of paper, and her pen with purple ink. She begins to write about the bikers and how she feels about them during the drastic changes...
Jatay (Jawtay)-- "It's interesting to see you being the same. Or, well, almost the same, old man Jawtay. I know, your actual jaw isn't doing too well, and the only difference is that your mouthy friend took over your outfit and gained sentience of its own. However, Maltot isn't... uh, too friendly. Iunno what you want me to do, put on gloves and hope it doesn't melt them and burn my skin? I'm not... gonna.. go near it anytime soon unless I can figure out a way to safely interact with you AND Maltot at the same time. Best or worst, you have your gang's local witch/medic to patch you up, maybe fix the jaw of yours if you wanted to. It'll be a pain if you keep falling apart either way... so we just gotta try our best to make sure the medical treatment still works. Stay safe, yeah? I'll keep an eye out." Celene seems to chuckle after writing the paper about Jatay. Yeah, the jokes didn't always work, but when it works, it works. It's a good thing she is still fond of this biker. She seems to care about him quite a bit, even if it's because she cares for every biker as the designated medic/witch. Jatay is one of the people in the Loveless Biker Boys that she respects and someone who gives her hope, the other being Dice.
Jeff-- "You've been a weird one lately, Jeff. But then again, so have I. We've been aware of the secrets of the outside-- the secrets of the unknown world and its creatures. It's driven us mad, but I fear it's been the worse for you. You cannot hope that our gang, nor anyone else, understood everything beyond their regular knowledge. It's been... technically, us and nobody else. Yeah, I know, it's bittersweet as hell. As the gang's witch, and the daughter of a witch and a warlock, it is true we lack social comprehensibility when we gain knowledge beyond our own, especially when coming to contact with eldritch deities or go too deep into what we know, like secrets or magic. We've just got to do the best we can, even if we're all different people, right? I'll still look out for you and the others, I just don't want you to get hurt or worse.
Oh, and... uh... you don't have to beat up the newbies, just try not to destroy them unless they really really REALLY deserve it. No, I'm being serious here, Jeff. It's either you or Dice that's been killing them, and my workload is running high. My statistics are getting SCREWED. Plus we're not getting any new members that stay long term because by that point, they've probably been converted to meat food for cannibalism. Like, god damnit, I don't want to have to resort to necromancy or dark magic just to revive people or some other weird shit just to get them a better chance at joining the gang than if they were fresh. I appreciate you caring for me and the others, but damn I wish you hadn't completely lost your mind sometimes." Celene sighs, putting the paper about Jeff to the side. She's been fond of him, but she's also been frustrated. Yet again, these two have knowledge beyond normal comprehension, so it's not like Celene can find anybody else... Besides, she has her knowledge on the outside, witchcraft, medicine, her lunar and night magic, astronomy, and even eldritch studies (including dark magic).
Varai-- "Varai, Varai, Varai... your case is a lot more weirder than all the others. It's also the one that's been driving me crazy as the gang's medic and witch. I'm aware you cannot meet your own end, and yet you look and smell as if you had. It's like you are a 'living undead' person. I have tried multiple, and I mean, MULTIPLE ways to put my waning moon magic to work on this sort of thing, yet it doesn't seem like you have healed that much. You're still the same living undead as I see you currently. It's complicated, as you are a book of undead magic, so full of mysteries and secrets I've not yet solved or delved my book-smart head into. I just don't get you. I really just don't get you. It's not that I hate you, I really don't... I just feel concern AND confused at the same time, and that's what's driving me mad. As your fellow biker, medic, and friend, I want you to get better, feel better, AND I DON'T KNOW HOW! I still wish there was more ways to help you, but I can only do my best as the medic to heal whatever I can...
P.S. Even though I'll still talk to you and play with you, as the gang's medical witch I would rather not be infected for health reasons. Without me being healthy and alive, I wouldn't be able to still heal wounds, infections and whatnot, including my attempts to heal yours. I'm sorry, Varai."
Celene puts this paper expressing her feelings about Varai to the side. The conditions and circumstances regarding Varai are so mindboggling that she's struggled to find ways to fix the condition. In fact, he's one of the reasons WHY Celene has gone to unethical lengths regarding her healing magic (aka dark magic/necromancy)! She's mainly been keeping an eye on Varai, and to her he's still a research subject and an experiment in some way. If something went wrong, it's easy to just patch Varai up with basic lunar magic (waning) or even stitching up. However, for most other conditions, like how he kind of looks undead, it's puzzling until Celene figures it all out and it's not as puzzling to heal and cure. Even when she wrote this letter describing Varai, she shuddered out of fear, a chill running through her head to her tail for once.
"Ugh... I wish Dice didn't have to do that, but despite how flustered I AM over him, he does things that make me quiver with f e a r... And this result... was one of them." Celene takes no pleasure in this fact. There's things she likes about the boss, and there's things she doesn't like. There's a bunch to say, and it isn't easy writing a paper about her own boss, someone she's smitten with still... She's always saved the best in her eyes for last.
Dice-- "... Oh, Carroll. Dear boss... There's still so much, a lot, to say to you. It's not easy to say all of them, because they are a mix of affection, admiration, and... concern. My feelings are still strong, but it's not just 'cause of my loyalty, nor my hopeless crushing. It's because I'm concerned about you. Yes, it's about your drug usage. I doubt your boasts of being unable to really die, but what if I do lose you because of it? What if you are gone because of it, even if you yourself 'enjoy it' or 'get stronger' because of it? Not that I mind having you and 'Pink' around as a thrilling two-in-one person package. Yet, a drug overdose is... potentially dangerous, mortal even, and my magic cannot heal you from those long term consequences to your body and your mind, even as the gang's medic/witch. Your life is still young and delicate, and there's still a future ahead of you, even if this gang dissolves.
Er, well, it's BEEN dissolving because no new members have come to revive it from its current state. Partially because you've been eliminating them, yes I'm aware. It's affecting my workload and the status of the gang's existence. I wish I could tell you to stop increasing casualties, but you have more power than me. Thus, my statistics and papers will be messed up regardless.
However, you've REALLY got to take care of yourself, boss. It's the only way you'll still be able to take care of the others as a leader. You're not going to be alone through this, and... I'll stay 'til the end. I'll stay by your side to help you, and I'll keep taking care of the gang. Just, please, no more lies, and no more running away on that motorcycle in the night. Don't pretend as if you're immortal, because you're not. Be brave as you always are, embrace the darkness of reality, and see the full moon with me and the other bikers. All this, because... I love you, Carroll... I really care about you, Carroll... and I want to always be there for you any way I could." Celene frowns on this piece of paper designated to Dice. Some parts were scribbled out because she doesn't know the reaction, and because it sounds cringe in her head. Even if she were to put in the most important part of a confession, she stashes it away in the drawer under the desk. She's become bolder in regards to showing affection and even trying to find ways to confess, yet she still holds back in some way. It's torturous. It's hell. He's hell, in his own way; and yet Celene enjoys Dice very much.
"Oh, fur-get it, I wish there was an easier way to show support and love in more ways than one, but it's just... it's just difficult to convey in words. The only thing I can do is to be there by the boss' side, kick ass, heal... and keep my eye out for the others. The witch's work is never done. Even though I would want the others to be okay... I really just want Carroll to be healthy and happy most of all." Having a strong crush on the leader is still one feeling, but her concern has been pretty powerful since the big changes to this place. Either way, her sense of duty remains stronger than her free-time admiration. Celene sighs, taking a break from her worktable and going to her bed, just nodding off to sleep.
Who knows how long will this dream nightmare last? It can only go on for so long until it's just... gone. Like a scenario in which the moon really disappeared. In either case, the lonely lunar kitty witch biker can only sleep and hope for the best in this instance.
#loveless biker boys#lbb oc#Maeveposting / Celene#Maeveposting / oc stuff#Cryptic writings#I'm sorry it looks deadass like cringe sometimes#Sometimes it's good and sometimes it's cringe#idk i hope it looks good at least
0 notes
Photo
New Post has been published on https://malleedesign.com.au/what-to-plant-for-poorly-drained-soils/
What to Plant for Poorly Drained Soils
Wet Weather Gardening
By Kath Gadd and Hannah Preston
After yet more rain on the east coast many plants in many gardens are suffering water-logging. Even in reasonably well drained soils the inundation has been too much for some plants. Physically, the force of rain, streams and puddles of water have caused their own damage and with the increased humidity comes increased pathogen risk, it really hasn’t put many gardeners in the best mood, myself included!
Callistemon ‘In June’
The biggest issue with waterlogging is often the deprivation of oxygen from the soil. If the soil can’t breathe then anaerobic bacteria take over and start producing the yucky smells we associate with long-wet locations. Most plant roots actually need oxygen to survive as well as air space to continue growing, so when soils sit wet for too long they literally start to suffocate.
Leptospermum ‘Starry Night’
From aboveground there’s not always much we can do to immediately alleviate water-logging, but noticing and designing your garden based on how water travels is a good first step. You can also add clay breaker or organic materials like mulches to help improve the structure of the soil and its ability to drain and hold air pockets.
Melalueca viridiflora ‘Burgundy Weeper’
Be mindful that after rain soils are vulnerable to compaction, and if compacted their ability to aerate again will be compromised. Try not walk excessively on or run heavy objects over still wet areas – unless of course you’ve turning the local hillside into a mudslide for the kids 😛
Melaleuca armillaris ‘Pink’
Create some space around the base of your plants, especially young ones. After heavy rain debris and other materials sometimes accumulate around the stems of plants, which leads to increased humidity and a greater chance of pathogens taking hold. Plants can become completely covered in mulch after the rain so make sure you clear the base to allow for airflow.
Leptospermum ‘Ballerina’
Some native plants are more tolerant than others when it comes to having wet feet, sometimes this is called being hardy to ‘temporary inundation’, which just means their root system will tolerate sitting in water for a short period of time without harming the plant.
Melastoma affine
I have a heavy clay soil so am no stranger to trying to find native plants which will survive in poorly drained soil and have been trialling and testing some of the pictured natives species. As a general rule of thumb I have listed some species and genus below which don’t mind having wet feet, some of them even thrive.
Baloskion tetraphyllum
Reeds, rushes and sedges are great in boggy damp areas, they will soak up excess moisture in difficult positions and can make great borders and features.
Poa ‘Suggan Buggan’
Banksia robur or the Swamp Banks ifs a wonderful large shrub or small tree which can handle very poorly drained soils and also periods of drought.
Banksia robur
The WA peppermint will also cope with temporary inundation to its root system, this species can be found as a low shrub, large shrub and small to medium tree, so is very useful in clay soils, however it dislikes humidity so beware when growing it north of Sydney.
Agonis ‘Burgundy’
Agonis flexuosa
If you are looking for large Eucalyptus species which can handle a heavier soil and lots of rain, look no further than our beautiful Ironbarks!
Eucalyptus paniculata
Smaller hedging plants will be species which naturally grow in a wetter environment like the sub tropical rainforest, this encompasses plants like Lilly Pillys, Myrtles and Baeckea.
Syzygium wilsonii
Other moisture loving small trees which don’t mind a bit of extra rain but cant sit for very long with wet feet are Grevillea baileyana, Buckinghamia celsissima, Tristaniopsis laurina and Xanthostemon chrysanthus.
Grevillea baileyana
Please see the list below and help me add to it!
Leptospermum (not all species)
Melaleuca (not all species)
Callistemons (not all species)
Casaurina species and cultivars
Banksia robur
Sedges – Carex apressa, Ficinia nodosa, Gahnia species
Eucalyptus ampifolia, sideroxylon, paniculata
Acmena and Syzygium species
Baeckea virgata and linifolia
Backhousia anisata, citriodora, myrtifolia
Calothamnus quadrifidus
Callicoma serratifolia
Randia fitzlanni
Lomatia myricoides
Kunzea (not all species)
Melastoma affine
Native Grasses – Themeda triandra, Dianella caeurulea, Poa labillardieri, Pycnosorus globosus
Viminaria juncea
Tristaniopsis laurina
Agonis flexuosa
#Agonis 'Burgundy'#Agonis flexuosa#Baloskion tetraphyllum#Banksia robur#bee attracting#boggy soils#Casuarina 'Cousin It'#Casuarina 'Freefall'#Casuarina 'Green Wave'#Casuarina glauca prostrate form#clay soils#Grevillea baileyana#Leptospermum 'Starry Night'#Melaleuca armillaris Pink#Melaleuca viridiflora 'Burgundy Weeper'#Melastoma affine#Syzygium wilsonii#water logged soils#wet weather
1 note
·
View note
Text
b4 eating dinner and completing hopefully 2 more requests i just want to say ahem btw
hi !! ffxiv free trial RETURNED BOOOM BAAAM WOO HOO this feb 22 which means you get to play the most famous mmorpg rn imo and also the best selling final fantasy (confirmed /gen) with one of the best stories in fiction (imo but also im completely serious) which includes the entirety of a realm reborn and ALSO the very award winning expac heavensward and his is a game with MANY PRETTY PLAYERS and wonderful character customization and the BEST dressing game i have played with cool classes like dragoon where u fight dragons but wield their power, reaper with a SCYTHE and you have your own demon avatar thing friend, summoner where you can summon A DRAGON AND A PHOENIX and also we have bunny boys and catgirls and catboys and bunny girls and tall elf ladies and men and also :) G'RAHA TIA sorry uhm we have cute little rabbits too !! but this is just rhe free trial so not everyhting is here :( heavensward is so good tho. you fight dragons. fight the church. make friends w very pretty elezen lady and man and another man and another man AND WOMEN ARE SO STRONG IN THIS GAME ACTUALLY also no time restric4ions adn its FREE TRIAL SO FREE TO PLAY at your destinatoon startomg again feb 2w :D
#long post#my first tag#also#⋯ ꒰ა ffxiv ໒꒱ *·˚#pls block that tag for all ffxiv related things unless you want to SCROLL thru it to see ffxiv... haha#sorry ive been taking a break from the game bcs school but soon i will be Back#and dragging you all with me... if you allow it :(#its free trial and no time restrictions until lvl 60 !! very beautiful game its my favorite#⋯ ꒰ა starry thoughts ໒꒱ *·˚#so#yeah !!#thanks for coming to my Unhinged ted talk by aster astria apollo tyvm#the chicken is me btw
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
guaifenesin in hell: a post-mortem retrospective
in this post i want to share some fragments from guaifenesinhell, a hybrid alternate reality vlog and erotic furry video art youtube channel which i developed throughout 2021. i was very secretive about this project, showing it to maybe a dozen people. it is now unfortunately defunct, so unless i sent it to you directly, or ur one of the ~500 people who found and subscribed to the project organically, this post is the only way to experience guaifenesinhell now. sry!
guaifenesinhell (short for guaifenesin in hell) was composed mainly of film footage of my fursona guaifenesin, a funny cartoon dog/wolf woman with white and blue fur and starry eyes who lives in hell
most of the vids were set in an interior living space of some kind and featured guaify performing simple, domestic actions for sustained periods of time: boiling a pot of water, laying on a carpet in the sunlight, doing some dishes, heating clothing to remove bedbugs, watching a candle burn in the dark, etc. these clips were entirely unedited, each being a single uninterrupted shot of guaifenesin performing the specified action in its entirety and then walking out of frame.
guaifenesinhell also gave me an excuse to produce a healthy amount of body inflation kink content
these videos were fairly formulaic, consisting of short sequences in which guaifenesin’s body would expand as she sat or stood in place, often with the same uncharged emotional affect as my other videos. producing these was the most enjoyable part of the project, especially designing the props necessary to create a convincing inflation sequence. these videos were also, somewhat predictably, the most popular part of my channel, some of them gaining tens of thousands of views relatively quickly.
i found it pretty sexy as well, and was overall very satisfied that i was able to produce actual niche kink content with some degree of sincerity. this has been a goal of mine for a while; while my previous long-term social media project had ostensibly been “about vore” (eternal love to the dead god vore) i had failed to rly get my hands gooey in this respect, gesturing broadly at the kink as a metaphorical concept without portraying it directly. this was something i personally sought to rectify, and a crucial step in creating art which was more identifiably “furry.” when i think of people portraying their fursonas in art online, making little worlds for them to live in, the two things that most come to mind are infinitely repetitive yet inescapably comfortable domestic lives and sexual fetishes. this, coincidentally, is what hell looks like.
there were also a number of misc. videos which i wont go into too much detail about here, mostly first person, found footage style stuff, little rituals and cryptic fluff meant to add to the narrative tone i was developing, or foreshadow later videos i was planning to release. i consider these more or less inseparable from the original Youtube channel, loose ends that cant rly be replicated on another platform.
138 notes
·
View notes
Text
Breaking news, teen becomes father to weird cat he found
I saw that post by @moonpaw with the scenario where Aizawa found feral!Izuku when he was three and I have not known rest since until I wrote this.
--------
Shouta was having a day.
It started off fine, with him managing to get out of bed with enough time to eat an actual breakfast, but got worse from the moment he stepped out the door.
He’d left early, planning on taking a detour on his way to school. He’d seen a lot of stray cats around the edge of a forest that he liked to walk by for fresh air. He’d brought two bowls, a tray, some cream, and a bag of cat food in a plastic bag, and his plan was to set them out before making his way to school.
He was making good time, and might’ve even gotten to school a few minutes early, but a villain decided that early morning was the best time to rob a store.
After Shouta had helped stop the robber and tried to leave, a hero stopped him to berate him about laws against public quirk use and how he shouldn’t have gotten in the way of the pros, ignoring Shouta’s complaints that he’s going to be late. The hero finally shut up after he showed his Provisional Hero License.
He checked the time, seeing that he could still make it to school on time if he didn’t take his detour, but if he did, he’d have to carry another bag with him all day. He’d rather deal with being a few minutes late than risk losing the supplies.
He carried on his way, dodging people on the street and trying to hold the bag where it stopped hitting his leg. Eventually, he spotted green poking around buildings.
He found a place just off the side of the sidewalk. It was out of the way of foot traffic and, unless someone was looking for it, they’d probably miss it.
He set out the tray, placing the bowls on it and pouring the food into one. He unscrews the cap of the cream carton and is about to pour it into the other bowl, but he hears a rustling in the bushes in front of him.
A small, black nose pokes out from between the leaves, followed by bright green eyes. Once those eyes lock onto his, two long, green ears poke out of the brush. It slowly pads into view, revealing the weirdest looking cat Shouta has ever seen.
It has large, furry forepaws and curly fur running down its neck and onto its chest. Two long, rabbit-like ears stretch from the top of its head and its eyes are slits. One of the weirdest things about it is that almost everywhere else is covered in scales. The most striking thing is that every aspect of the animal is green.
“Hey, little guy,” he calls, causing its ears to raise even more. “Do you want some cream?”
The presumably quirked cat’s tail starts to wag as it bounds over, its pupils getting wider in excitement. It waits excitedly for Shouta to pour the cream in the bowl.
The moment he’s done pouring, it plants its face is in the bowl, happily licking up every drop.
He only has a moment to smile at the little creature before he feels a cold splash of water on his neck. He looks up just in time to get another rain drop in the eye.
Wiping the water off his face, he reaches for his umbrella on his bag. Once safe from the downpour, he looks back down at the odd cat.
Its only rained for a few seconds, but its tiny frame is basically soaked. It futilely tries to shake off the water to stop its shivering. Shouta can imagine that, given the scales, the creature’s quirk probably makes it part reptile.
Suddenly, he finds himself with a familiar dilemma. Animals wouldn’t be allowed at school, but he didn’t want to leave the poor thing in the cold. He looked up at his umbrella, the one he’d expected to lose only to have it given back to him by the one who did what he hadn’t.
In the end, the decision was made for him. The cat latched onto his ankle, glaring at the puddles around it. Shouta sighed.
“My teacher is not going to be happy,” he informed, picking the maybe-rabbit up. He laid it on its back it the crook of his arm, where it settled comfortably. He was pretty sure that it had started smirking at his comment.
As expected, his teacher told him off for being late, asking him his excuse this time. He help up the bundle of fur and scales in his arm and said that he found it on his way to class. When questioned on what it was, he answered with a monotone, “Cat,” much to everyone’s disbelief.
The green creature jumped out of his lap and wandered the classroom for a bit, occasionally getting the attention of some of his classmates. When his teacher told him to stop the animal from distracting everyone, he was surprised to learn that it knew how to respond to commands when it happily returned to underneath his desk. It spent a few hours playing with his shoe laces.
When it was time for lunch, he picked up the chimera-looking creature and tucked it under his arm. He was going to skip lunch and find a corner of the school to nap in, but the wide starry eyes looking up at him at the mention of food convinced him otherwise.
He ordered some fish and a bowl of rice, having to put the cat on his shoulder to carry his tray. He had to fight the gremlin to stay away from the food until he found a quiet corner in a secluded hall. He set the plate with the fish on one side of the tray and put the cat in front of it. He took a bite of his rice and looked back to see the other’s food completely disappear. It was giving him big puppy-dog eyes, occasionally glancing at his food. He gave it a soft smile, pouring some onto the plate.
When they were both done with their food and the cat had cleaned up the mess it made, Shouta checked the time. There were still thirty minutes left in lunch, enough time to take a ten minute nap and take the cat on walk around campus. He set the tray aside, stretching out his legs and leaning against the wall. He pat his lap as an invitation, satisfied when a weight set itself there.
A few more minutes than expected later, his eyes cracked open. He sees familiar bright green eyes and ears. He also sees a small freckled face with a wide grin.
His eyes closed in a slow blink before flying open again.
The small child that had somehow appeared in his lap looked up at him with a delighted smile.
“Papa!” he cried, reaching up for a hug. “Your hair got long! I didn’t think I was waiting that long! But you came back!”
Shouta was trying not to have a heart attack while the child excitedly babbled.
“H-how’d you get here?” he asked the kid. He giggled in response.
“You brought me here, Papa. Did you forget while you were sleeping?”
Shouta, lost for a moment, finally notices the kid’s long, rabbit-like ears and the tail poking out of his pants to realize.
“Oh,” he says. Dear god, I thought it was a cat, not a child, he thinks. “What’s your name?”
“Izuku!” he near-shouts excitedly.
“Ok, Izuku. How’d you end up in the forest? Where are your parents?” he asks, hoping the kid would know.
He quirks his head to the side, looking confused. “You left me in the forest a few days ago. Mommy hasn’t been around in a while. Do you not remember this, Papa?” Shouta felt a stab to his heart at the realization. The kid had been abandoned.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, kid, but I’m not your papa.” He felt guilty when his ears fell and tears built up in his eyes. “But I can help you! Don’t worry; I won’t put you back in the forest. What kind of hero would I be if I didn’t help someone in trouble?” Izuku’s eyes lit up.
“You’re a hero?” he asked excitedly, tail wagging behind him.
“Technically still a hero in training, but yeah,” he chuckled, relieved that the kid had cheered up. “Speaking of,” he checked the time, “I only have a few minutes until class starts.” He knew that he’d be in even more trouble if he brought a child on campus than if he brought a cat, but he didn’t want to let Izuku crawl around on the floor now that he knew the “cat” is a person. An idea popped into his head and a smile grew on his face.
“Hey, Izuku?” The kids ears stood in attention. “Do you want to see the support department?” At the nods that caused the boy’s ears to flap, Shouta picked him up, leaving the tray for someone else to take care of.
A minute before before lunch ended, the teacher huffed in annoyance. All students were present except the known problem child. Expecting him to be late, he was about to start the lesson.
Before he could get the words out of his mouth, said child walked through the door, the cat from earlier strapped to his chest in a baby carrier and a rare smile on his face.
1K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
hikkokoro
sleep deprived goober
withourusualwords
On the Usual Street
iheartred
Heyo :}
sketchygainedyoursoul
Sketchers (We got tha drip)
vulomkaaz
local hot chocolate and evil music enthusiast