#40 years of progress gone

[cinnamanz]

— ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ MAMMA MIA ⋆౨ৎ˚ .ᐟ SOPHIA LAFORTEZA

❝𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐀, 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈 𝐆𝐎 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍

𝐌𝐘, 𝐌𝐘, 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔?❞

there’s always been one rule in the group: don’t bring up y/n. no one really knows why, but it’s clear sophia would rather leave her ex-best friend in the past. once inseparable, their friendship dissolved after a summer camp that no one talks about, and y/n vanished, moving god-knows-where without so much as a goodbye. some say it was a fight. others say it was something more. only sophia knows the truth—or maybe not even she does. now, as the third year at dream academy begins, sophia is blindsided by y/n's unexpected return. gone is the familiar, easygoing childhood bestfriend she remembers. in her place is someone sharper, colder, and—unfortunately for sophia—hotter than ever. (who gave her the permission to look so fine?)

tags .ᐟ smau, crack, fluff, awkward idiots, grumpy x sunshine (or at least my attempt to), childhood bestfriends to lovers, theatre children, coarse language, suggestive themes, nonceleb! au, university au!, sexual jokes, kys nd die jokes, mentions of substances, my writing

featuring .ᐟ katseye, p1harmony, ive, le sserafim and etc

pairing .ᐟ sophia laforteza x female reader

status .ᐟ ongoing

notes .ᐟ this smau was made for fun and entertainment. it is not an actual portrayal of the people mentioned in this smau, nor are the photos used to portray y/n. ignore timestamps. dream academy is a performing arts university. divider cred: @/adornedwithlight. TAGLIST CLOSED.

❝𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐀, 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍?

𝐌𝐘, 𝐌𝐘, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐈’𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔?❞

PROFILES

rock, paper, 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 (and keeho) — mommy day care

01. oomfchella @ school

02. dire omen

03. livin la vida loca

04. tying the noose as we speak

05. lore

06. just like old times

07. extracurricular

08. for evermore

09. best friend of the year

10. casting

11. square up

12. a b c d e f g

13. love finds a way

14. petty

15. nonchalant mfs

16. getting somewhere

17. shady ahh tweet

18. concerned

19. easy to draw

20. u look like u hump trees

21. cry to ur homeboys

22. cool cover!

23. for free

24. onto sumn

25. I WILL NOT BE SILENCED

26. tom holland

27. awkward!

28. thoughts nd prayers

29. hardest battles

30. let her cook

31. party on you

32. does yn know ab this?

33. hooked up

34. good driver

35. NEW COUPLE ALERT

36. pack it up

37. they hit the pentagon

38. keeho

39. OH FUCK NO

40. our last summer

41. etsy witch

42. CLOCKED

43. women scaring women

44. wealth changed you

45. EVERYWHERE but the the studio

46. THAT SHOULD BE ME

47. SIGN

48. imgonnagetyouback

49. valentina

50. what in the schizophrenia

51. FAKE NONCHALANTER

52. woman losing woman

53. SOS

54. wait for it

more in progress!

™ CINNAMANZ 2025

— please do not repost, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way without permission. thank you! xx

[dostoyevsky-official]

Growing Apart: Ideological Polarization between Teenage Boys and Girls

Drawing on a unique dataset of 130,000 Norwegian high school students (aged 15-18) interviewed in the period 1989-2023, I show that the gender gap in left-right ideology has surged over the past 10 years, reaching its highest recorded level (twice as high as among young adults). I argue that this development is driven in large part by a new wave of politically potent anti-feminism among boys. A growing percentage of boys believe that ‘gender equality has gone too far’, which is increasingly associated with right-wing identification. Employing a decomposition analysis, I estimate that the gender equality issue accounts for 40-50% of the increased polarization between boys and girls.

[...] Boys and girls in their teens might be experiencing an even more dramatic polarization than young adults—that could have lasting effects on their world-views. The explanations for why young men and women are pulling apart often revolve around social media creating separate online spheres for men and women; the rise of anti feminism among young men (Off, Charron, and Alexander 2022), in some cases fueled by misogynist influencers such as Andrew Tate [...] These forces are likely to make a stronger imprint on the minds of teenagers than on adults. First, because social media is their main battlefield, and teenagers continue to be some of the heaviest users of social media. And, perhaps most importantly, because teenagers are in their “formative” years—which is typically the time when people’s core values are developing, and they are more impressionable than later in life.

Norway is an interesting case in this regard because it is one of the world’s most gender-equal societies with a long-standing political consensus on progressive gender policies. One might therefore expect Norway to have an extra lawyer of protection against rising gender-based polarization compared to most other countries.

[...] My analysis shows that the ideological gender gap in Norwegian high schools has surged over the past decade, reaching its highest recorded level since the data series began.

[...] The suspicion that the recent gender-polarization is linked to the issue of gender equality is bolstered by the evidence presented in Figure 4.

[...] First, compared with the other issues, gender equality is the issue where boys and girls hold the most dissimilar opinions. Second, it is also the variable that has seen the largest gender gap increase among the ones examined here. The other variables either show modest gender gaps in the first place, little divergence over time, or both. These results suggest that the gender equality issue has the most potential to account for over-time changes in ideological polarization—if such views are related to ideology.

In combination with the fact that such views have become increasingly associated with right-wing voting, the gender equality issue accounts for 40-50 percent of the increased polarization

[collindapuppyboyfreak]

note gameee

blue- in progress

pink- finished

10 notes - I’ll pick up the clothes and stuff on my floor

20 notes - i throw away some of my blades

30 notes - i finish at least one book that i’ve been procrastinating

40 notes - i eat 3 full meals and a snack

50 notes - i look for a therapist again

60 notes - I finish my summer assignments for honors English and premed studies

70 notes- I make my bed everyday for a month

80 notes - I stay clean for 2 weeks

90 notes - I come out to my dad

100 notes - I stop texting an old friend who ghosted me almost 2 years ago daily and accept the fact that he’s gone

[eloise-t-g]

i think for me, the watcher situation comes down to this:

it's absolutely respectable that the watcher team wants to grow and produce better quality content. it's respectable that they don't want to stagnate and end up pushing the same content out over and over again. that's not satisfying for them creatively, i get that.

however, if higher quality, more heavily produced content is not what your fans are asking for, then you can't ask them to fund it.

this all-or-nothing method they've gone for is frankly bizarre. it feels like they leap-frogged all other alternatives to improving their finances and ended up here, alienating and frustrating the majority of their fanbase (the fanbase they thanked for getting them to where they are).

i think this could have gone a lot better if they:

Hadn't hyped up this video for a week.

Hadn't announced the worth it successor just beforehand.

Hadn't put out a wishy-washy, "boo hoo we're so sad about this", over-produced video.

Hadn't made it $6/month (more in a lot of countries given exchange rates).

Had considered that this means fans in specific countries literally cannot pay for the subscription due to geo/region-locking.

my ideas for improving their funds, aka things they could have tried before blowing their brand up: create their own website with two options - a free version with ads and a paid version without ads, OR make better use of their patreon/make their website extra content, not all their content, for example:

Put the ghost file debriefs on there.

Put shows like survival mode on there (or even shift that show from pre-recorded video to live-stream - live stream access to patrons and VOD access to everyone, maybe).

Put episode commentaries there.

Do reaction videos to their old buzzfeed content, talk about memories and BTS, and put that there.

Put one/two episodes of each show, per season on there (and ONLY there).

Put the episodes up there a few days early.

Make specific, website only content (that's not your main and most popular series aka ghost files and puppet history).

Record the live, in-person shows and put those VODs up there.

EDIT (thought of something else lmao): put extended or even uncut versions of ghost files on there. Paranormal Detour on Detune's twitch channel has shown that people will willingly sit through 6+ hours of a ghost investigation.

EDIT: idk, do livestreams once a week where you watch scary movies with fans on discord or twitch.

(side note: the fact that they're not taking down their patreon and instead shifting all of their podcast content on there, something the patreons who have been loyally giving them money for years didn't ask for, is ridiculous and greedy. add to this the fact that they don't even get a free sub to the new website, instead get 40% off - a measly 10% more than anyone else who subs before the official launch).

the thing for me is that they're claiming they want to make "television" and "television-grade content". that's completely fine. what's not completely fine is acting like your four episodes a month is equal to netflix's entire catalogue.

this really felt like it should have been something they told us they were progressing towards, not something they revealed to be on the imminent horizon. idk, it just feels out of nowhere. no, they don't owe us all of the info about their company. but something had to be better than this.

final thought - it's okay and valid to be upset at the team for this. for a lot of people, it's a complete betrayal (especially the comment that $6 a month is something "anyone and everyone can afford", i mean yikes). i do think some people's anger got the best of them, and some of the comments i've seen across youtube, twitter, and tumblr are plain bullying, racism, and harassment. until we have the whole story, we can't decide that one founder (aka steven in a lot of people's minds) is solely responsible. i know a lot of these awful things are only coming from a small minority of the fandom, but they still get seen.

at the end of the day, all three of them got up in front of a camera and made this video, together. that can only lead us to the conclusion that they made this decision together. acting like these men in their 30s couldn't stand up against it if they truly wanted to, is so strange and parasocial lmao.

tl;dr there were much better ways of going about this announcement, if it even needed to be made at all. however, that doesn't excuse the hateful shit being spewed at the team. for now, all we know is the three founders decided they were done with youtube, and done with their loyal youtube audience.

(i have so many more thoughts on this but i need to stop lmao. however i do wonder how different things could have been if 1. they had hired someone with actual business experience as their CEO from the jump, and 2. this video was more of a "hey we're broke! this is a last-ditch effort to save our company!". guess those questions will remain ... well ... you know ...).

[foone]

So here's how the story goes. Four young adults are teleported away from 1940s earth, where it turns out they're the last descendants of the great sages who defeated evil all those years ago, but with his last breath banished the sages to earth. Now, 200 years later, evil has risen again: a vile sorcerer has raised an army and is threatening the peaceful kingdoms of a fantasy world, and only the Divine Bloodline can weild the Weapons of Light and defeat the rampaging hordes. The heroes take up their weapons and fight the good fight, leading the armies of man and elf and dwarf and beast against the evil orcs, who are vaporized by their touch. They cut a path through the horde and defeat evil's greatest champions, who were guarding the Gem of Control, an ancient artifact that gave the terrible wizard control over the orcish population. Just as one of them swings their hammer to shatter it, the wizard intervenes, and uses the last bit of his control to destroy his army, lest they join you in their freed state. As the pieces of the gem hit the floor, already losing their sickly green glow, they see the attacking orcs fade into mist. They'd killed hundreds in your crusade, sure, but he just killed all of them. They later learn, against all fervent hopes, that this extended to the orcish homelands. Men, women, and children, cooking in their homes, planting the crops, raising brutecows and hunting in the dark forests... All gone in an instant. The scouts report a silent land with tools lying in workshops, food left uneaten at dining tables, and bursting into tears at entering a house to find it was a schoolhouse: Quills lying in all the seats, with rough parchment next to it showing the first few letters of the orcish alphabet.

They redouble their efforts, now fueled with genuine hatred for the evil sorcerer. He shifts his tactics, relying on darker magics to summon undead minions, which don't need the Gem of Control. They don't go poof when a holy weapon touches them, but are still no match for the divine warriors. With a skeleton the size of a zeppelin smashing down towers around them, the warriors reach the wizard and drive a broadsword of light through his chest. The skeletons collapse back into their eternal slumber in little piles on the floor.

The warriors put aside their weapons as they're received with great cheer. They're invited to join the royal families of the four kingdoms, marrying into the human, elf, dwarf, and beast royalty. They spend the rest of their long reign ensuring peace returns, monuments are made for the fallen orc nation, and the remaining undead who fled are not allowed to prey on the peasants, only taking up arms again to fight a den of vampires left behind.

In their old age, the wizard who brought them here reappears. It's taken him decades to develop the right magics, but he can finally send them home. They abdicate, letting their hybrid offspring take control, certain in their ability to run a kingdom with wisdom and justice. They leave behind their holy weapons, in case evil rises again. The wizard warns them that much may have changed in the world they left, as 80 years has passed there while it was only 40 for them, but they still want to see if London still stands and if their families or their descendants are alive.

They appear in the modern day, 2024. They're amazed at the technological progress, of course, but then there's a bigger shock. This isn't just an isekai story: this is a reverse-isekai story.

The holy weapons were forged using the same magics that brought them to the fantasy world in the first place. When they vaporized orcs, they didn't die, they were teleported. Teleported here. Every mind-controlled orc warrior that tasted their blade woke up uninjured... in Portsmouth.

And when the sorcerer tried to wipe them all out as the Gem of Control shattered, all he did was transfer that magic to every one of them. None of them died, except for a few elderly orcs who dropped dead from shock at ending up in England, Earth, 1943.

It's now 2024. The Orc population of London is 3 million. There's twelve orcs in parliament, and another in the house of lords. The world has changed a lot since they left, for the better, the weirder, and the greener.

[crowsofdarkness]

You have a Christmas surprise for Bucky while he's away on a mission.

CW(so much tooth rotting fluff, Soft!Bucky with his anxious gf, Christmas activities, slow dancing).

*originally posted on my old blog*

“Doll?”

Turning swiftly on my heels, I nearly dropped the basket of Christmas Ornaments to the ground when I saw that familiar face staring back at me.

“You’re early! You weren’t supposed to come back until tomorrow night!” I nearly whined.

Bucky's dark eyes tracked all of the bright lights and colorful decor before landing on the tree in the corner of the room, next to our bed. A soft tune from the 40’s played on the record player, basking us back to a time where Bucky was in his prime, as he would say.

He was still dressed in his tac gear, just returning from his mission which is why I was so upset he was back. I missed him dearly since he’d been gone for over a week but I hadn’t finished setting up our room in the compound yet.

“What’s this?” He asked while setting his bag on our bed.

With a slight frown, I set down the box next to it and sighed. “I was setting up the Christmas decor. I was hoping to have it finished before you got back. I know our room here at the compound is small and I can’t do much but I wanted it to feel like Christmas.”

As much as I would have loved to have a large Christmas tree, we shared one of the smaller rooms in the new compound so I was left with a small 4 ft tree that was shoved in the corner next to our bed. I had colorful string lights hanging along the ceiling and on the television was one of those videos of a fireplace.

“You did all of this?” Bucky pointed around with a still unreadable look on his face.

I shifted on my feet, suddenly nervous I overstepped. We’ve only been dating for less than a year and while we shared a room together, I thought maybe it would have been best to ask him beforehand. He was still dealing with the aftermath of everything, leaving Hydra and trying to do good in the eyes of the public. The last thing I wanted was to set him back in his progress.

“Do you not like it? Maybe I should have asked you first. This was stupid.”

I began reaching for the tree, ready to take it down when vibranium fingers wrapped around my wrist to bring me into his chest. Those eyes started down at me, a slight smile playing on Bucky's lips.

“I love it, doll. You didn’t have to do all of this for me.”

I ran my fingers through his short hair as our bodies began sweating softly to the music. “Yes I did. You mentioned how you hadn’t celebrated Christmas since the 40’s. You deserve to feel the Christmas magic again.”

My giggles echoed in the room as Bucky spun me before dipping me low, his lips capturing mine in a tender kiss.

“I love you. Thank you,” he brushed his nose against mine after he brought me back up straight.

I clasped my hands behind his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. “I love you too, Bucky.”

We slow danced for the next while as the music played and the snow began to fall outside, the scent of peppermint lingering in the air

[gasps-inspanish]

The Math Isn't Mathing

TW for mentions of underage drinking

It was the annual League check in, a big meeting they had once a fiscal year at the Hall of Justice to check in on everyone’s progress and how things were going after major events that happened that year. Usually Kyle didn’t like League meetings, but having his friends who weren’t 10+ years older than him around for this meeting always meant that the meeting wouldn’t be boring.

Kyle was standing near Hal’s seat with the rest of the Lanterns (besides Guy who was sitting down on the floor next to Hal) minus Kelli who was with Titans West. The Titans and Young Justice were also in attendance and standing with one another, and the people who didn’t have a team but were still in the League database stood behind the League member they correspond to or near a friend.

“- a painting that went missing in -xx23” Bruce was saying.

“What does a painting that went missing 40 years ago have to do with our case?” Gar asked. Rachel side eyed him and Kyle almost laughed at the severity of it.

“So, that's not how math works,” Vic pointed out and Gar rolled his eyes.

“It’s close enough,” Gar argued. Rachel’s side eye continued.

“No it’s not? It’s 24 years, you're off by like 16 years” Jaime pointed out. Tim shook his head.

“No it’s not,” Tim said and Kyle was confused.

“Yes it is? I was born that year and I’m 24” Kyle said. Tim started to analyze him and Kyle was unsettled. He wasn’t that dumb, damn Tim, but Kon was also looking at him weird.

“So I know how math works,” Wally said slowly, “and yours is off. Do you not know what year you were born”?

Hal reached back and tapped Kyle on his knee, a sign to be quiet. But Kyle wasn’t going to start another brawl with Wally in the Hall of Justice or anything, and Bruce (who was one of the few people that kind of cared about keeping the meeting on track) seemed interested, so Kyle didn’t get what Hal was so worried about.

“I know what year I was born Wally, I’m not stupid” Kyle argued. Hal tapped his knee again.

“You clearly are. You weren’t born in -xx23” Wally said. Next to him, Donna, Roy and Garth looked amused but Dick looked worried. Kyle didn’t get it. He and Wally talked like this all the time. Hal being worried about his nephew getting into a fight, okay sure, but Dick knew Kyle and Wally talked to each other like this.

“Wally, I know what year I was born. It’s basic information that I use all the time” Kyle said gently in order to hopefully placate Hal and Dick. It didn’t work, as Dick still looked worried and Hal tapped his knee again.

“You were born in August” Wally said slowly, as if Kyle was stupid or a child, and that kinda pissed Kyle off.

“Yeah” Kyle said in the same condescending tone. “August 20th, -xx23. I just turned 24”.

Hal tapped him again and Guy slapped Hal’s away.

“Let him talk Hal, he’s a big boy,” Guy said quietly. His laugh and tone of excitement made Kyle realize something was wrong.

“That’s impossible. That was the year I was born and I was born in January while you were born in August so you would be a grade behind me instead of being in the same grade as me. Meaning you would have just turned-” Wally paused, eyes widening in horror when he saw Kyle had gone rigid, realizing his mistake. “Wait a fucking second, have you been lying about your age”?

Kyle opened his mouth and then closed it. He was stupid after all. He had been so used to saying he was a year older than he was, that he hadn’t realized his birth year didn’t match. He has been lying about his age for so long that he completely forgot he lied about his age in general. Everyone was looking at him now.

“I tried to warn you,” Hal said, looking up at Kyle in amusement.

“How old are you really?” Wally asked desperately.

“Older or younger?” Roy joined in as Donna looked panicked.

“Why would you lie about your age and what year you were born, but not make sure that they worked together?” Bart asked, his hand raised. Next to him, Kon was looking between Kyle and Wally like one would a fucking tennis match.

“I didn’t lie about the year. Just now” Kyle said weakly and Wally bent over, hands on his knees as if he needed to catch his breath.

“Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait” Wally cried out before looking back up at Kyle. “You’re a year younger than me?”?

“No! I mean, we’re the same age until your birthday in January?” Kyle offered and Donna relaxed.

“NO-”!

Guy burst out laughing at the same time as Kon. Guy had accidentally found out a bit after Hal, and Kon didn’t know until now and was just a brat. Connor was whispering something to Kelli who had this look on her face that made Kyle nervous.

Well, more nervous.

“I told you,” Hal said again. “Play stupid games”?

“Win stupid prizes” Kyle said sadly, hanging his head in defeat.

“Wait a second, you were 20 when you became a Lantern” John asked and Kyle nodded. “Kyle, we went out drinking with you plenty of times before August -xxx2”.

“Yeah” Barry said, wide eyes with realization. “We did too”!

Uh oh.

“Who cares about that!” Wally said. “He was 20 when he joined the League! You guys said you have to be 21”!

Oh yeah, Wally hadn’t been old enough to join the League when he first became Flash, having still been 20. He was never officially a part of the League team since Barry “came back to life” before he turned 21, but Kyle had said he was 21, so he was an official Justice League team member. And Wally wasn’t.

It was a beautiful day.

“Revoke his membership” Roy joked.

“I agree!” Wally said seriously, looking like he was losing his mind. “I’m older than you? You graduated university before me”?

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing.

“You have a fake id,” John said looking very amused. Kyle nodded. “Let me see it”.

Oh wait no, this actually sucked.

Kyle pulled it out and handed it over, and the other Lanterns and Barry and Ollie (who sat on either side of Hal) looked at it.

“I mean- it looks legit” Simon offered and Jess laughed, not even bothering to cover her mouth with her hand as she elbowed a smirking Jo lightly..

“I don’t use it anymore” Kyle said and Guy slung an arm around Kyle.

“I’m gonna make fun of you for this for the rest of your life” Guy laughed, despite the fact that he already knew. Kyle rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I saw that one coming”.

“And you knew about this,” John said to Hal. At least if Kyle was going down, Hal was going down with him.

“Yeah, but he stopped after I found out. That’s why we didn’t go bar hopping as a group for like, four months” Hal said. John looked like he was trying not to laugh and Kyle knew he was done for. He was getting bullied for the next month at least. He hated them all. “What?“

“Hal. He still went drinking, just when you weren’t there” John said. Hal paused before doing a slow turn in his chair, looking offended.

Kyle knew Hal was more offended that Kyle was hiding it from him than him actually doing it. Oh also there was the reason Hal recommended Kyle didn’t drink for a bit, but Kyle didn’t want to think about that.

“Would you believe me if I said it was an accident?” Kyle asked sheepishly. Wally was leaning on a laughing Garth, wailing at the unfairness of the world and something about Kyle graduating University way before him, but Kyle couldn’t even enjoy it.

He would never live this down.

Notes

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive (Daily updates!)

Under 1s account for 64 per cent of all childhood hospital admissions with Covid, study finds

By Tom Bawden

Under 1s account for 64 per cent of all childhood hospital admissions with Covid, study finds

Covid is almost as bad for babies now as it was in the early days of the pandemic, while the risk of serious illness among all other age groups has sharply reduced over time, a study has found.

Researchers found that 6,300 babies less than a year old were admitted to hospital, either wholly or partially because of Covid, in the year to August 2023.

As such, infants accounted for 64 per cent of all child admissions for Covid for that year, according to the new study, published in the Journal of Pediatrics.

The study shows the rate of hospital admissions among infants has hardly changed as the pandemic has progressed, with a total of 19,790 under-ones admitted between August 2020 and August 2023 (an average of 6,596 a year) – representing 43 per cent of all child admissions over that time.

Meanwhile, during the period when Delta was the dominant variant, from May to December 2021, infants made up less than 30 per cent of children’s admissions.

Taken together, these figures show that while serious cases fell sharply among children aged one and older, they are little changed among the under-ones.

The continuing high rate of hospitalisations among babies is largely because babies are born with no immunity to Covid and weak immune systems more generally.

This is in contrast to many older children, who have built some immunity from Covid infections and vaccines.

Most infants are only in hospital for a short time – about two days – but about 5 per cent needed intensive care.

“The pandemic is as bad as it ever was for babies. Under-ones are the only age group where admissions have not gone down over time,” said Professor Christina Pagel, of University College London.

“As children over one year old gained some immunity from infection or were vaccinated (with vaccination mostly in teens), their risk of needing hospital fell. But this doesn’t help infants in their first encounter with the virus.”

She expects the picture among infants to have been “about the same” in the year to August 2024 as they were the previous year, “as we’ve continued to see waves of Covid and immunity in newborns remains low”.

This is the first study to show that UK Covid hospitalisations among babies have hardly fallen during the pandemic.

Although a vaccine has been developed for children aged six months to four years, these are only given to those who are clinically vulnerable.

As such, the best protection a baby can get is if the mother is vaccinated during pregnancy – ideally in the third trimester, scientists say.

The baby builds up some protection from the mother’s vaccination “in utero” and boosts this further after birth from breastfeeding, when antibodies are passed on through breast milk. The vaccine also reduces the risk of the mother catching Covid and passing it to her baby.

Professor Pagel points out that vaccine uptake in pregnancy is quite low, at about 40 per cent, and urges more pregnant women to get vaccinated.

“Not enough infants are being offering the protection of a vaccine – from six months – and the benefits of maternal vaccinations aren’t be promoted enough,” she said.

A study in the New England Journal of Medicine found that a vaccination during pregnancy reduced risk of hospitalisation for Covid among infants under the age of six by 61 per cent.

Analysis by the US Centre for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) has shown that Covid hospitalisations in babies under 6 months old are higher than any other age group apart from over-75s – although the difference is that hospital admissions among that age group have fallen sharply over the course of the pandemic, even if they are still higher than for babies.

Dr Simon Williams, lecturer at Swansea University, who was not involved in the research, said: “The findings of this new study are very concerning and help to debunk the myth that Covid is harmless in children. Although a majority of children will not be seriously ill from Covid, this study shows that in some cases it can be serious, and particularly in babies, who are vulnerable and with low immunity.”

Sheena Cruickshank, professor of public engagement and biomedical science at the University of Manchester, who was also not involved in the study, said: “Young babies are exceptionally vulnerable to Covid as their immune systems are still developing.

“This paper shows that even while older children are being hospitalised less, this is not the case for younger children. If mothers are able to breastfeed and have been vaccinated during their later pregnancy, then their maternal antibodies can protect the baby.”

“However, takeup of these vaccines has not been quite as good as it could be leaving a lot of mums and their babies vulnerable,” she said.

Dr Mary Ramsay, director of immunisation at UK Health Security Agency, said: “The Covid vaccine for pregnant women is offered during a relatively short window during Autumn [October to December], so we advise them to take it up when it’s offered this year and not delay.

“This way the vaccine can protect more pregnant women and newborn babies, whatever stage of pregnancy they might be in and if they were to deliver prematurely.

“The Covid-19 vaccine is already offered to ‘babies over 6 months of age and children who have certain long-term conditions’, who are among those most at risk of severe illness.

“For other babies and children, Covid-19 will generally be a mild illness. Our surveillance shows that whilst infants under 6 months of age currently have the highest rates of hospitalisations, the number requiring intensive treatment remains relatively low.”

“As with all vaccination programmes, the JCVI keeps the Covid-19 vaccination programme under review and informed by best available evidence.”

Study: www.jpeds.com/article/S0022-3476(24)00473-6/fulltext

[cheolaholic]

ring of love; csc (02)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

a/n; smol update regarding taglist, unfortunately i can only tag up to 50 people in the post and i've reached the limits and is unable to tag the remaining people that signed up om the taglist which is such a shame bcs ik a lot of yall were looking forward to be on the taglist ㅠㅠ

however, i do still want to voice out my thank yous to the immense amount of support you've all given towards this fic 😭 🫶🏻

taglist at the end !

you sat in the crowd, stunned as you watched the match progress.

gone was the unsettling and/or overwhelming feeling of being at the event. instead, you felt a surge of mixed emotions.

how did seungcheol end up being a part of the match?

how did he know vernon?

had he always been in seoul?

why hadn’t he tried to reach out to you?

a loud gasp from the crowd pulled you out from your train of thoughts. as you looked at the ring, you saw seungcheol lying on the ground, a hand over his stomach - you felt a sinking feeling in your guts.

as the crowd chanted ‘get up!’, you clasped your hands together, silently chanting along with them. ‘get up..! please, get up..! choi seungcheol, get up..!’

it seems as though he’s heard you, or possibly from the chanting from the crowd that was supporting him, as he slowly got up, the crowd starting to cheer once again. you could feel your anxiety rise as seungcheol got into his stance, preparing for another round with his opponent.

“first timer, eh?”

turning your head to the side, an older man who seems to be in his 40s gave you a gentle smile.

“pardon?” you responded.

"it's your first time experiencing this, ain't it?" he repeated. nodding your head, you turned to face seungcheol who threw an uppercut towards JK, causing him to stumble back a little.

"don't worry about scoups. he always gets back on his feet. that's why he's been the champion for the past year!"

past year…? he's been doing this for a year?

before you had a chance to ask the old man any further questions, the announcer's voice boomed through the speakers.

"and the winner is - scoups!"

the crowd erupted in cheers, accompanied with a loud applause as scoups and JK were escorted out of the ring, a text from vernon lit up your screen.

vrrnonie: come on back

vrrnonie: i'll introduce you ;D

when you got to the back, it took you ten minutes to argue with the bouncers before vernon showed up to vouch for you.

"she's with me boys, don't worry 'bout it!"

walking beside vernon as you both walked towards the waiting rooms, your nose scrunched up at the smell of sweat and body odor invading your nostrils.

"vernon, how long have you known these people?" you asked, the statement the old man made still lingering at the back of your mind.

if seungcheol had been doing underground for the past year, that meant he either knew vernon before or after he got in.

at least that's what you assumed.

"hmm, i knew mingyu first since we're in the same major!" he answered, "though, he's a year older than me, but we share a few classes together. then, he asked me if i've ever been to underground boxing matches and that's how i came to know wonwoo and coups hyung."

nodding your head, he stops in front of a door with a hanging sign that wrote "SCOUPS". just as vernon was about to open the door, whoever was on the other side decided to open it first, startling you.

standing in front of you was a tall muscular male - his skin was a nice tan and reminds you of a puppy with his curled locks.

you blink once. then twice.

what the hell is pledis' top model, kim mingyu, doing here?

it took you a few minutes to put two and two together - top model kim mingyu, is friends and in the same major as vernon.

"where’d you disappear off to, bro?" mingyu asked, sounding worried.

"sorry, man. went to pick up a friend," pointing to you, it was then mingyu noticed your presence.

"oh, hi!" he greeted, stepping aside and motioned you to enter the waiting room, "come on in, girlie~"

taking a step into the waiting room, you look around, hoping to find seungcheol but to no avail. as if he had read your mind, vernon asked where he was.

"he went to the toilet to freshen up," mingyu answered, "wonwoo hyung went with him. so, who's your pretty friend?"

reaching out a hand to the model, who gladly shook it, you introduced yourself.

"i'm lee ___, vernon's frie-"

"-bestie," said boy corrected, giving you a goofy smile when you side-eyed him, "the day you accepted my coke and made that comment on my outfit, you've signed an invisible contract to be my bestie for life!"

"ah, so you're the poor girl who has to deal with his ass when he isn't with us," mingyu commented, earning a laugh from you as vernon whined.

30 minutes go by and you find yourself enjoying the conversation you're exchanging with mingyu. you found out his father owns a famous art gallery while his mother works as a model (you've seen her a few magazines and it amazes you how she doesn't look like she's aged one bit). his parents want him to follow in a similar career choice as they do, which is why he took up art as a college major; and took modeling as a part time job.

you were extremely invested in conversing with mingyu, you don't realise two other people entering the room until-

"...pup?"

whipping your head around at the nickname, you felt your heart in your throat as the air got knocked out of your lungs.

there he stood, right in the flesh.

it felt like a fever dream.

"pup, is that you?" seungcheol asked, taking cautious steps towards you; his eyes full of hope.

when he's finally stood right in front of you, his body towering over yours, your breathing quickened and your heart thumping so loud you could hear it. seungcheol cups your face in his shaking hands, as if he couldn't believe what his eyes were seeing; as if they were deceiving him (and honestly, so did you).

"...cheollie..?"

your voice came out quieter than you expected, but he heard it.

a wide grin spread across his face as he heard that oh-so-familiar nickname, pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

"it really is you! oh my god, i can't believe you're here!"

you were stunned, frozen in place. thankfully, you weren't the only one as you noticed vernon, mingyu and a male who's wearing glasses, which you assumed to be wonwoo, watching you and seungcheol with both amusement and confusion evident on their face.

"you two… know each other?" vernon asks.

"ah-" pulling away from the hug, seungcheol steps aside as he wraps an arm around your waist, the action that has your heart thump harder against your ribcage, "boys, this is ___. she and i go way back."

vrrnonie: i can't believe you knew coups hyung

vrrnonie: and didn't tell me

vrrnonie: i feel so betrayed

vrrnonie: i thought we were besties

traitor 💔: BITCH

traitor 💔: I DIDN'T KNOW CHEOL WAS SCOUPS

traitor 💔: HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW

vrrnonie: …

vrrnonie: okay, fair enough

vrrnonie: but how come you've never mentioned him tho?

vrrnonie: he said you both went way back

vrrnonie: yet i never heard you talk about him

traitor 💔: you never mentioned about him before too asshole

traitor 💔: you only brought him up TODAY

traitor 💔: technically yesterday

traitor 💔: yea, the stage name sounded familiar

traitor 💔: but how was i supposed to know it was the same cheol

vrrnonie: you should've majored in law instead lmao

vrrnonie: but yea, fair point

vrrnonie: but still tho

vrrnonie: when he said way back

vrrnonie: how far back did he mean?

traitor 💔: can we not talk abt this

traitor 💔: i'll tell you when i feel like it

traitor 💔: but really, i just don't want to think abt it

vrrnonie: yes ma'am

vrrnonie: you must be tired after that tho

vrrnonie: get some rest, bbg <3

traitor 💔: vernon wtf

vrrnonie: hehe

vrrnonie: but fr tho, get some rest

vrrnonie: tonight definitely exhausted you

vrrnonie: see ya on monday

letting out a sigh you set your phone down, staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom - replaying the encounter repeatedly in your mind.

how long has it been since that day? the day your teenage love-struck heart got shattered into pieces?

you don't even remember.

you were about to close your eyes, a not so brilliant plan into trying to sleep the feelings away and deal with it in the morning, when your phone chimed.

unknown number: hey, pup

unknown number: i got your number from vernon

unknown number: it's me, cheol

you stared at the texts, unsure of what to reply.

you do, however, hit up the boy who gave out your number.

ma bestie 💅🏻: YOU GAVE HIM MY NUMBER???

vrrnonie: yea?

vrrnonie: oh shit

vrrnonie: was i not supposed to?

ma bestie 💅🏻: nono

ma bestie 💅🏻: it's just

ma bestie 💅🏻: i'd appreciate it if you'd let me know you gave him my number

vrrnonie: ah-

vrrninie: sorry bout that

ma bestie 💅🏻: it's okay

you received a few more texts from seungcheol, but you've decided to leave it up to morning or future you to deal with. part of you felt bad for ignoring his texts, mainly because you haven't seen him in years; and as he's currently making an effort to reconnect, your plan is to ghost him (at least until you're ready to face him).

another part of you felt as though he deserved the treatment. it may seem childish and petty, but you kept trying to justify it by telling yourself that he went on for years without talking to you; surely he’s able to handle a few hours of the same situation.

but as minutes go by of tossing and turning, the blinking notification light of your phone eventually gets the best of you.

cheollie: i know it’s been years since we last saw each other

cheollie: i was wondering if you wanted to meet up this weekend?

cheollie: for lunch, dinner, anything?

cheollie: to catch up and well, explain myself

sweet pup: hey

sweet pup: uhm, it’s currently 2am

sweet pup: so i don’t think lunch is an option

sweet pup: dinner sounds good tho!

cheollie: ah yea, sorry for texting quite late

cheollie: but i couldn’t help myself and you know how i am

cheollie: dinner it is!

cheollie: we’ll figure more of this out later in the morning, okay?

sweet pup: sure thing, cheollie

cheollie: get some rest, pup

cheollie: wouldn’t want you falling sick or be too tired for tomorrow <;/3

sweet pup: i could say the same for you

sweet pup: you must be tired from the match

cheollie: goodnight pup

sweet pup: goodnight cheol

you set your phone aside, rolling onto your side as you made another attempt to fall asleep. but with the anxious feeling pooling in your gut as your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, that was proven to be giving you a hard time.

that’s how you ended up on the floor of your living room, back leaning against the couch as a random netlfix series played while you drank your third bottle of soju.

sure, it was a bad idea and you knew you’d wake up with a killer hangover.

but, in the end, you managed to finally sleep - albeit it being on your couch.

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwoo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetener @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnotthelastofus @yearnoclock @kwonhoeshi @minhui896 @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ru-lin @deobiforever @belladaises @cheoliekkuma @duskunt1ldawn @hyneyedfiz @marshmallowshouse @ak6ko @chwevernonlover @jejuboo-s @tsukinluv @atinytinaa @gyros-cum-sock @soupbinlily @jungwoos-luvr @ener-energy @watermelon-sugars-things @cyberpunkhwx @ddaengpotate @nightwingsrobbinhoods @chaerrylov3r @joshuaahong @wonussmile @uliceeeeeeee @wonwoo24 @shinetogether17 @simplejihoon @luvkpopp

[vampjaeyun]

WORKS IN PROGRESS

UPDATED REGULARLY

ONESHOTS < 3k+ words >

— TAKE CARE

PAIRING fwb!sunghoon x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS Sunghoon doesn’t know a good thing until it’s gone

RELEASE DATE: tbd [ 90% ]

— MR. POPULAR

PAIRING unpopular!jake x popular fem!reader

SYNOPSIS Who knew turning the infamous (but not so infamous) Sim Jaeyun into the talk of the school would be this difficult. He’s fussy, asks too many questions, and refuses to replace those binoculars he calls glasses with contacts. It frustrates you to no end.

Because now, he’s way too easy on the eyes.

RELEASE DATE: POSTPONED [ editing ]

— HEAD & MY HEART

PAIRING father’s friend!jay x fem!reader [switched from SH to JAY]

SYNOPSIS When your father reminded you of his friend staying as a temporary guest, you paid it no mind. Never in a million years did you expect him to be young and so hot.

RELEASE DATE: tba [ 40% ]

— THE BOY NEXT DOOR

PAIRING bnd!heeseung x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS You’ve always been curious of the mysterious boy next door. He doesn’t give you his name when he moves in or start small-talk when your eyes meet. Instead, he refuses to shut his curtains. Even if he’s in a compromising position. Even if it means you see it all— and all of him.

RELEASE DATE: tba [ 20% ]

DRABBLES < 1k-3k words >

— stuck in elevator w jake [ in progress 90% ]

— coworker!sunghoon [ in progress 90% ]

— club au w sunghoon [ in progress 20% ]

— best friend!jay/ mutual pining [ in progress 10% ]

REQUESTS < 300-1k words >

—

[dxmedstudent]

What do GPs do?

For the past few years, there's been a constant undercurrent of hostility towards the medical field in mainstream media, particularly GPs. Especially from certain conservative former doctors who write in to the Torygraph.

One of the charges levelled against GPs is that they are purpotedly ruining the NHS by not working enough hours. They need to be making more time for appointments and are all shirking.

How do GPs work?

GP work is measured in sessions, defined by the BMA as a 4h 10 minute time slot. 3 hours of this is meant to be clinical time, with some admin time for tasks - meant to be at least and hour. Typically, a whole day will involve a session in the morning and a session in the afternoon.

What do GPs do? The BMA breaks it down here. I also find articles by GPs can be useful for explaining. When not talking to patients, we are sending referrals or liaising with specialists about their care. We are checking blood test results and other investigations that were carried out by the practice, and then informing patients. We are filling prescriptions- each time a patient asks for their prescription to be refilled, a doctor or pharmacist is checking the order and whether it is safe to give, abd whether we are monitiring blood tests and keeping the patient safe. We are reading letters from specialists and actioning their recommendations.

However, in reality, multiple surveys reveal that GPs spend significantly more time working than what they are directly paid for. Whilst a 6 session GP should be spending around 24 hours at work, it's closer to 38 hours on average. GPs report spending up to 40% of their working time on admin - much of it being unpaid time outside of the hours they are contractually hired for. I and most GPs I know routinely stay late at work in order to make sure patient care is completed. We're in before 9am and leave between 7 or 8pm.

Add to that that many might have further responsibilities, especially if they are a partner in the practice.

Funnily enough, full time in general practice is considered to be 8 sessions. That's 4 long days. Gone are the days when anyone would consider a 5 day working week for GPs, because the workload is increasingly intense and sessions generate more paperwork than they used to.

Demand Is Increasing

GPs may be moving towards working less sessions, but that's because our work is getting more complex. As patients live longer, with more complicated combinations of illnesses and treatments, and we exist in a society that has progressively defunded social care and benefits, and impoverished our most vulnerable patients, there are more calls on our time abd attention than ever before. Stripped hospital services are increasingly rejecting our referrals, often inappropriately and against actual guidelines. Services are being pushed onto GPs via shared care agreements that would once have been handled by specialist teams in clinic. Services that we heavily rely on to serve our patients are sometimes defunded or disappear as contracts end or are transferred to new providers. Long wait lists lead to exasperated patients repeatedly seeing their GPs to manage issues that can't be managed well in the community.

There's a narrative in the media that appointments are impossible to get, but in reality, nationally GP surgeries are providing more appointments per month than they did before the pandemic. For example, 25.7 million appointments (excluding Covid vaccinations) were delivered by GP practices in December 2023, an increase of 9% compared to pre-pandemic. Practices are trying to find how to offer more appointments on a budget and how to improve access and find alterantive ways to serve patients; for example online forms, so that phone lines are freed up for vulnerable patients. Many practices are also offering longer appointments as many patients have complex needs.

Let's talk Pay

People also assume GPs are rich, but that's not really the case, especially given most of us wrent working full time. Average pay for a session is somewhere between 10k and 12k a year for each session a week that you work, depending on things like seniority and location. So for example, a 5 session GP earning 10k per session can expect to earn 50k a year. That's barely above the London average salary of 44k for a job that requires medical school, often an additional bachelor's degree and then at least 5 years of postgraduate training at minimum. That's more comfortable than a lot of vulnerable people, but it's nowhere near what most people think. Even if someone is paid higher per session and working more sessions, the average is still closer to 80 or 90k for salaried GP roles.

I've found figures that suggest the average GP salary is just over 100k, but that includes people doing separate private work or being partners, where in reality these are different roles that are paid differently. Partners are effectively shareholders in the practice. Locum or private work is much more lucrative and needs to be considered separately from a standard salaried role.

Some Partners may be earning £100k-150 in a good year, but that will be after working a LOT of overtime outside of their clinics, abd is in line with hospital specialists. The proportion of GPs earning more than that are miniscule. And honestly, if someone is working a ton of extra hours with their local LMC or med school or deanery, or doing a ton of locum work in evenings and weekends, I'm happy for them to be earning more money than me. Extra work and hours should be rewarded.

The Gender Aspect

I think we need to address the fact that complaining about doctors choosing to work less than what is defined as full time, often goes hand in hand with people complaining about women having the temerity to work in medicine. Apparently we're devaluing the profession by making it too female, going part time and having children. Why us ut that nobidy cares about whether men are going less than full time to look after their kids, and whether fathers are missing out on their children's upbringing?

As women, many of us are still facing sexism in our working lives. Whilst still having to deal with the fact that even uf we earn more and work longer hours than our menfolk, we usually end up doing the majority of the childcare and housework. Women in medicine are more likely to go less than full time because we are more likely to feel compelled to take on unpaid labour at home. Like our non medical sisters.

For reference, the full time nursing week in the NHS is 37.5h - with some variation between 36-40h depending on where you work. Working part time would benefit nurses, too. The nursing workforce is mostly women, and yet there's not the same outrage about their working hours or going less than full time, because women being nurses is expected. People don't seem to care about nurses' working conditions or the stresses they are under, and honestly most articles ignore the financial stresses or difficulties of most NHS workers because they are normally focused on doctors as a resource that they want to exploit maximally.

We aren't out there trying to police what hours other professions work - or at least, we shouldn't be. So why does the public feel entitled to dictate what hours doctors should be working? It's not like people are being paid for hours they aren't working!

[forthelorewick]

Blessed with Beauty and Rage ch 5

ch. 5 - “Rage, Rage against the dying of the light”

“Do Not Go Gently into That Good Night” by Dylan Thomas

Jackson!Joel x shrink!reader

outbreak/jackson au, outbreak happened in 2003, canon-typical graphic blood/ violence descriptions, anxiety, PSTD, grief, guilt, major character death(s)- (not Joel or reader), reader has nicknames (OC!reader), no use of y/n, explicit language, pining/longing/yearning, ANGST; so soft yet so tortured; emotionally unavailable reader, emotionally unavailable Joel; self-depreciating and self-sabotaging behavior, mentions of sh; shrink!reader Jackson!joel; video game Joel and Ellie; reader is in her early 40s - Joel is late 50s; implications that reader is bisexual; eventual smut, slow burn.

< prev chap | masterlist | next chap >

Chapter content: familial angst, trauma, mentions of grief, Ellie found herself a partner in mischief.

WC: 3.9k

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

| Joel

The rage floods through his veins as he storms back to his house. His mind racing as he paces the kitchen, thinking about the plain irresponsibility it takes to bring a child into this world.

He wishes he could just be happy for his brother and push away his own feelings, but he fucking can’t. Not after knowing what losing his own daughter had put both he and Tommy through. How could Tommy be so fucking selfish.

This ain’t the same world, you can’t just doom a child to this heartless, brutal reality. He had seen too many dead children, burned too many bodies, shot too many infected that resembled that innocence yet was never given a chance to just be. To live and be protected the way children ought to be.

And the fucking audacity Tommy had to bring up Sarah after knowing what he’d gone through to never hear that name again. To not be reminded in all the ways he’s failed more than he already reminds himself.

Twenty fucking years. Twenty fucking years have gone by and yet Tommy still hasn’t seemed to get the idea into his thick skull. Joel had been lost long ago, a shell of a man who once knew how to effectively guide his brother away from foolish decisions.

He takes that back in his head… Tommy had made too many foolish decisions that had led him to a night in the drunk tank or charged with misdemeanors than he could count. But he had successfully convinced him of the stupidity of procreating after what he had gone through with Sarah’s mom. Wear a fucking condom, dont be stupid.

Fucking idiot is what his brother is. He couldn’t say much for Maria, but from what he'd heard about her, she’d lost a son during the outbreak… so wouldn’t she know? Wouldn’t she know the dangers and risk and ignorance it takes to make that choice to doom a child to this world?

Then again, maybe it hadn’t been a decision. Maybe it had been an accident, an accident which was rarely safely dealt with in this new world.

He couldn’t deny certain human inclinations and physical needs for that physical release, even though he had needed that less often than before— his own fist worked just swell if he ever did need it.

He supposed Tommy fell in love and this is the natural progression of things, but you’d think he’d be smarter than to put his own wife through that again.

The intimacy of sex and physical touch had been cherished by Joel at one point, but it seemed like a waste of energy now. A distraction and the chance of getting attached to someone wasn’t worth it.

He knew that and had a fucking refresh on that lesson with Tess, even if he knew it wasn’t the type of relationship or intimacy she wanted, she was his friend, as close as he got to having those and the closest he’ll ever get again.

Sometimes he regrets not having been physical the ways she seemed to incline towards, the signs he had so intentionally ignored.

But he feels as though the loss would have tripled on his soul.

Now Ellie… Ellie.. Tess told him to “save who you can save”. She was the only thing he could do something about.

It was a responsibility shoved down his throat but he would do anything for that kid, kill anyone who dare touch a hair on her head, and he well… he had proven that in Salt Lake. She didn’t need to know the truth of what really happened. If she knew what he had done in order to save her, she would never forgive him. He can’t lose her, he just can’t.

Having people to lose in this world is worse than not having anyone. He is stubborn in that belief.

Unfortunately for him, he’s got people to lose. No more. He thinks to himself. No more people to lose, I can’t handle it. I can only do so much.

Maybe he’s the last sane person left, if he is… then this world is really fucking screwed more than he already knew it to be.

He takes a deep breath as he hears the front door open, he escapes upstairs before Ellie sees him pacing in the dark. He peeks beyond the curtain to see who ended up bringing her home, grateful she hadn’t been alone in his abrupt departure from dinner.

You. Something was off about you. The way you held yourself, the way you interacted with others. It seemed off, almost out of place. Seemingly happy to be included yet quick to deflect attention.

You didn’t want to be there anymore than he did. Excusing yourself outside in the bitter cold, walking alone everywhere except when you were with your daughter? Niece? Whoever the younger woman, who accompanied you and sat with you in the mess hall, was in relation to you. He knew she was your family of some kind. Seemingly nothing in common, yet clearly connected on a familial level.

You only talked about work or objectively if providing perspective, never about yourself. You lived with your “shrink” persona front and center. Like a buffer between you and everyone else.

That’s what he would assume, at least. Not that he really knew or cared. He’s only had a brief interaction or two with you. Each one has proven helpful or insightful in regards to the anxiety remedies you had suggested or with Ellie. Her schooling and curiosity seemed to be in good hands with you.

You seemed well-to-do, you had an array of useful skills to aid this little community. You liked to stay busy. Always so busy.

As you tilt your head up to examine the disturbance of the curtains on the second floor he quickly replaces them to their rightful place, disappearing from view.

Odd duck is what you are, he supposed he might be considered one too, but he frankly doesn’t want to be considered anything by anyone.

You were intriguing to him. And that is where he’ll leave you at. Whether or not you’ve caught each other’s gaze lingering has nothing more to do than your mutual observational habits and always being on high alert.

“Joel?”

Ellie’s voice and footsteps echoed up the stairs and through the otherwise silent house.

Joel slipped into his bedroom and clicked the door locked. He’d face the music of Ellie in the morning.

He hadn’t realized his mind had strayed from its warpath of anger, nor had he realized it had been thoughts of you which had distracted him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

| You

A few weeks later, early April 2024

Another fitful sleep wreaked havoc on you, memories flooding your senses in forms of night terrors that made you feel like you got even less sleep than before whatever time your body had spent unconscious.

You woke up to Apollo’s stinky breath as he licked you in the face, forcefully awakening you.

“Apollo… bad boy,” but you don’t mean it. You reach over and pat his head. “Thanks buddy,” it’s as if Apollo can understand you as he gives you another lick and you groan. “Alright alright… I’m up.”

You sit up and move to the edge of your bed, Apollo patiently sitting next to your legs, refusing to leave you alone.

“Helicopter dog… I’m fine Apollo.” You whistle and try to get him to leave your room so you can get changed out of your sweaty clothes but as soon as you stand up, you lose your balance and grip onto the edge of the bed.

Apollo is right there, his nose nudging your leg.

“What?” You don’t like being told what to do by a dog. He’s trained to be a form of service dog, but he’s so bossy when he’s doing what he’s trained to do.

“Alright alright, I’m fine, I promise, I’m fine.” As if you could convince a dog of anything of the sort. He whined next to you, stubborn boy that he is.

“I know I know, let me get some water.” You stand up again, letting your legs restabilize. It was a rare occurrence, usually only after a long night of night terrors or sleep deprivation.

You make your way to the kitchen, the sun barely rising over the horizon. You grip the edge of the sink as you fill a cup with water and down it in one sitting.

“Happy now?” Apollo wags his tail in response and you roll your eyes.

You needed to get caught up on your sleep at some point, but you refused to take any time off of work. You just needed an uninterrupted day to exhaust you so you could properly get a night’s sleep. Hopefully today would be the day.

“Let’s go outside, boy, cmon,” you throw on a well-worn and well-loved hoodie. Made of canvas fabric and insulated with fresh cotton material. M.C. had made this specially for you. It was soft and warm and only for wearing at home. You refused to let the snow or even your own sweat get to it.

She had embroidered a black threaded rose into the cuff. You cherished every article of clothing she tailored to you or made just for you to have comfort. She was so thoughtful. It amazed you what she and the other tailors and textile workers had managed to do with the materials both grown from the farms or scavenged by the runners and those on patrol.

You shove your feet into your boots, grabbing your warm jacket as Apollo whines at the back door. You hastily unlock it, open it, and push the screen door open. Apollo dashes outside and takes a lap around the yard before doing his business in his favored back corner. After a few more laps to warm himself up, as per his morning routine, he dashes back inside as you hold the door for him.

“You’re about ready to stay at the kennels, Apollo, you’re right as rain.”

And he is, and maybe he’s long overdue to return to his home at the kennels with the other pups.

Maybe you felt a little lonely. Alone in a big house… but that was the intention. However, you didn’t mind the company of a furry companion who really did not care about anything but scratches and food.

Come to think of it, they’re not much different from men. You’re not sure why your brain decided to make that connection, just on the topic of loneliness.

You bet that men wish they were treated as most dogs were. Able to be lazy and doted on without having any expectations in return.

At least that’s how most of them acted in your experience many eons ago.

Okay your one man who you settled down and had a daughter with. Who did step up while you were growing his child in your womb and all that jazz.

And the men you’ve dealt with since then hadn’t been all bad… beyond the monsters bred from lack of consequences and the futile desperation it took and takes just to survive. I mean hell, what have you had to do just for you and M.C. to survive?

The difference being the left over mortality, not brutalizing men and women or enslaving others just because they think they deserve the control over others’ fates. When others made that choice against you or someone you loved, that’s when your humanity had to be set aside. Us or them, us or them, us or them. And how many lives have you had to take. The only solace being that they weren’t innocent lives. But who decided where those lines were drawn when it was mostly others just adopting the same mentality to protect themselves and the ones close to them… you cancelled each other out. Survival of the fittest.

You shake your head of those thoughts, once again wandering into mental territories you’ve warned yourself from entering. As if they didn’t plague your dreams enough.

A loud bang against the door echoes into your house, further solidifying the distance from those thoughts once again.

Apollo bared his teeth and stood in front of you, the sound of a key being inserted as turning had him settle a bit, but still wary of whoever was breaching the premises.

But the key being used only worked for the external glass door, the user would quickly realize you hadn’t been wanting visitors. It was your own way of ensuring your solitude on days you just couldn’t handle socializing to any degree… or at five in the fucking morning.

The urgent knock is followed by a voice calling your name, a voice which instantly triggers Apollo’s aggressive wagging and whining for you to open the door.

Which you do… begrudgingly. You know what this early morning intrusion is about as you glance at the calendar to confirm your worst fear.

“Open the goddamn door this instant! I can hear Apollo telling you to let me in, y’know you wanna!”

You grumble as you fiddle with the door locks, the slide of the chain, the click of the deadlock, and the quick turn on the knob… you open the door to a too-wide smile holding a bouquet of flowers. “Spring flowers for the spring baby!”

You roll your eyes, then unlock and open the final glass door to let M.C. in.

“Woke up mighty early just to bring me flowers, sweetheart.”

She shrugs and stifles a yawn as she hands them to you.

Despite your cold greeting you find an empty vase in a cabinet above your kitchen sink, fill it with water, then place the neatly trimmed stems in. You fight a smile back as you take in the choice of flowers.

“So… what’s on the agenda for the day?”

You glance at her with a suspicious tint to your eyes. Knowing she’s alluding to something already up her sleeves.

“I’ve gotta get ready for work,” you stop her short of whatever gears were turning in her head.

She nods and rolls her eyes, having bent down to scratch Apollo’s ears, his tail thumping on the floor.

Appearing a few minutes later with your thick jeans and a flannel over your favorite grey sweater, you’re ready to go for the day.

“You can walk with me.”

Her eyes light up and Apollo perks his ears up.

“Gotta take him back to the kennels, he’s all healed up now.”

You’d made the decision in your head just a few moments ago. You’ve always reminded yourself you were meant to remain alone. You couldn’t cheat yourself of your own resolve, as nice as it was to have an energetic life around your house and reminding you to take care of yourself… you knew you had to do it all yourself. You couldn’t rely on anyone or anything but yourself. That was just the way the world worked, and why should you have any different.

As you and M.C. make your way through the snow-dusted streets of Jackson, Apollo’s leash in hand and your breath clouding in the air, the town is only just beginning to stir. The morning is crisp, sun slicing through the chill in low golden beams that catch on the frost still clinging to windowpanes and rooftops.

You hear boots crunching ahead of you—someone turning the corner from the radio tower road. A familiar gait, even before you fully look up.

Joel.

He’s in his usual patrol jacket, rifle slung across his back, gloves tucked under one arm like he’s still deciding whether to bother with them. When his eyes meet yours, there’s a flicker of something—recognition, maybe, or reluctant curiosity. Or maybe he just hadn’t see you in awhile. Being neighbors, that’s a rare thing to accomplish.

You give him a nod. Neutral. Polite. Controlled. But M.C., of course, is grinning.

“Mornin’, Joel.”

He gives a grunt of acknowledgment. “Mornin’.”

Apollo, traitor that he is, gives a tail wag in Joel’s direction, as if they’re old friends. Joel glances down at him and then back to you, something unreadable in his expression.

“Dog’s lookin’ better,” his voice is low and rough with sleep and cold. “He back on duty?”

“About to be. He’s been freeloading at my house.”

“He’s a smart one, then,” Joel looks back down at the dog who’s tail is whacking against your leg. “Knows where the soft beds and warm meals are.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t let that charm fool you. He’s obnoxious when he’s bored.”

He actually huffs something close to a laugh. M.C. watches the two of you with wide eyes and the kind of look that says she has thoughts she will definitely bring up later.

“Well,” Joel says after a beat. “I’ll see y’all around.”

He starts to move past, then pauses for just a moment, glancing back.

“Happy birthday.”

You blink.

You never told him that.

You say nothing—can’t say anything, really—and M.C. grins even wider like she’s going to combust. Joel walks on without another word.

You don’t say anything else until you reach the kennels, but M.C. will not let it go.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

You’ve worked yourself to the bone all day—counseling two teens caught fighting in the mess hall, beginning the process of breaking a yearling (in the process of teaching your stable hand’s how to break yearlings, one had fallen off and sprained his wrist), rebalancing the schoolhouse medicine cabinet after yet another mystery disappearance of bandaids.… the kids were always so eager about band aids. One of the unsolved mysteries of humanity.

By the time you make your way home, your body aches. You’ve been going since sunrise and you intend to crash the second you take your boots off.

“Apollo?” you call instinctively before remembering you just left him at the kennels. The silence is unnerving. A sort of unnerving you’ve grown used to.

You shut the door behind you and shed your coat, deciding on sitting on your couch and reading just to wind down from the day.

The knock came at dusk. Two instances of someone knocking on your door makes you want to run away so no on knew where to find you.

You weren’t planning on answering. You’d already stripped off your layers from the day, worn and ragged, and left them in a heap in the corner of your room.

You stood in the kitchen, holding a chipped mug of tea that had long since gone cold. Today was meant to slip by quietly—no noise, no reminder, no grief disguised as celebration.

But M.C. was persistent.

Another knock. Then her voice—“I swear to god, if you’re sitting there pretending you’re not home…”

You exhaled through your nose, placed the mug down, and opened the door.

M.C. stood there with a stupid grin, and Ellie beside her holding a tin box and what looked like a poorly wrapped package.

“You brought reinforcements,” your voice unamused and lacking any semblance of tone to help the girls know what kind of mood you were in.

“Obviously,” M.C. said, as if offended you’d think anything less of her, she breezed past you into the kitchen. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Happy birthday!” Ellie grins wide and holds up the tin which contained a messy looking peach pie with a single candle already sinking into the filling. “We were gonna yell it, but M.C. thought you’d punch one of us.”

“She’s not wrong,” you mutter, fighting back a wave of emotion too big to name. Your throat tightens as you retrieve three plates from your cabinet and begin brewing tea once again.

Ellie set the pie down on the kitchen table and giggles, amused, “I told her we didn’t have to come. She said you’d be mad if we didn’t.”

You narrowed your eyes at M.C. “That’s not even remotely true.”

“Yeah, well, you’re too tired to argue, so sit down. We brought pie.”

Your protest got stuck somewhere between your heavy eyelids and your throat. So instead, you flopped onto the couch and Ellie sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table where you had all set your plates with pie.

It smelled good. Warm. Like the orchard’s first yield of the season, still clinging to some golden memory of summer.

“This was all her idea,” Ellie said, mouth already full. “I just came for the food.”

“Liar,” M.C. nudged Ellie’s arm, a single brow lifted, “You brought a gift.”

“I mean… yeah.” Ellie wiped her fingers on her jeans and reached behind her to grab the clumsily wrapped package. “Here.”

You eyed it suspiciously. “You know I don’t do birthdays.”

“Good thing this isn’t a birthday gift,” Ellie shrugs and shakes it, insisting you take it into your hands. “It’s just a… random gift that happens to be given to you on your birthday.”

You snorted but took the package anyway. The paper was folded too many times and taped with what looked like old stickers. Inside, beneath the crinkled layers, was a journal. Sturdy. Leather-bound. Handmade, if you had to guess. Clean pages, thick and smooth under your fingers.

Your brow furrowed. “What is this?”

Ellie shrugged. “Joel gave it to me. Told me to give it to you.”

That made you pause. “Joel?” And the pieces came together in your head. That’s how he knew it was your birthday.

She nodded. “Didn’t say much. Just… ‘She might need this more than I do’.” The man’s tone clearly mocked in her rendition of what he had told her. “I wanted to invite him to come, but M.C. said you’d be pissed at us enough for showing up as is.”

Your lips pull down at the corners, eyebrows lifting just a bit—an unspoken… and she’d be right about that.

You looked down at the journal, trying not to read into the heaviness in your chest. Ellie fidgeted with the pie tin, pretending not to watch you too closely. You decided not to ponder the meaning, likely Joel just handed off the journal to Ellie and she needed something to give you in obligation to a birthday. Not that you had expected or wanted anything at all. It was just how humans were.

“I don’t think he meant it as anything big,” she added. “He’s just weird about stuff.”

“Use it or don’t,” Ellie shrugged. “I just didn’t want to hold onto it anymore.”

Justifying giving someone a birthday present… you just wanted to tear up whoever made her feel bad about a damn thing.

You didn’t say anything. Just set the journal on the table beside the tin, where it sat quiet and patient, like it didn’t expect anything from you either. Too tired to object too much anyways, just waiting for the night to naturally come to a close, and yet somehow… grateful to not be alone. You can’t fault others for wanting to celebrate birthdays. Even if that included your own.

You eat. You even laugh once when Ellie tells a story about Joel getting caught in a snowstorm last week because he refused to ask for directions back from a supply run. (“He’d rather die than admit he was lost,” she says. “Man’s a stubborn mule.”)

The house is quiet again once they leave, the last of their laughter trailing out with the click of the front door. You don’t even have the energy to clean up.

Then you’re moving—slow, deliberate—peeling off the sweater, tugging at your boots. You make it halfway to the bedroom before your legs protest again, and for a second you’re frozen in the hallway, dizzy.

You breathe. Not deep, not steady. Just enough.

Your bed’s still unmade from this morning. You don’t care. You fall into it like a body into water—sinking.

And you don’t stir again until late the next afternoon. No dreams, no night terrors. Just sleep. And god had you fucking needed it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

< prev chap | masterlist | next chap >

Little steps at a time. This is just the beginning…

[seven4asecret]

.⋆•. ๋𖥔. Yours, Eventually Pt. 3 .𖥔 ๋ .•⋆.

Viktor x Gn! Reader

Content & Warnings: No pronouns, no Y/N, no Smut, & badly written flirting.

Letters 11 - 15

My sweet friend, 

I know all too well the risks involved in crossing the bridge. However, I can’t help but wish you were already here, safe and sound. I fear for your safety now that you’ve encountered trouble. 

Your statement worries me.

”Again.”

When have you been in prison?

At this point, I can’t bring myself to care about the exhibit. I simply wish to see you.

Please, my dear, be cautious.

— Viktor 

Dear Viktor, I can’t help but wish I were there already. I can imagine you happily showing me around your lab and pulling me along to show off each of your projects. It saddens me to think I’ll have to wait for it. As for my time behind bars, don’t worry about it. It's been several years ago as of then. I miss you terribly, — Your friend

My dearest friend, 

What joy it would bring me to show you everything I’ve been working on, and the progress we’ve made. To see your face light up with excitement or awe would mean the world to me. I’m growing weary of my routine, and I miss your presence terribly. There’s no one to drag me out to lunch, to stop me from overworking, or to stop me from forgetting to sleep.

Well, there is Jayce, I suppose, but he hardly counts when it’s your company I’m after. I find myself thinking of you much more often than I should, now that the competition is over. 

Do not think that I am overlooking your imprisonment. We will talk about it once we are finally face-to-face.

I miss you even more,

— Vik 

Viktor, my dear friend, For the love of the gods, do not make me come up there any earlier than I have to already. Though it warms my heart to know you’ve been thinking of me. I think of you often, too, even more as of late. You’re a constant nagging presence in the back of my mind. You’ll have to thank Jayce for me. Gods know you’re about as stubborn as one can get when you get too deep into your work. I know he’s been doing well to keep you up and running at your best.  As for my situation, I appreciate the acknowledgement, and I do not look forward to discussing it with you. I know I’ll be in for quite an earful. Say safe, take breaks, and remember to sleep. I’ll see you eventually, — Your friend

My dearest and most irritating friend, 

You know I can be quite stubborn when I want to be. But you are one to talk, you little rebel. You would do whatever you set your wild heart on, without concern for yourself. That is one thing we have in common, isn’t it? Jayce sends his regards as well and looks forward to meeting you. I suppose I should be thanking him for keeping me in order, so I’ll pass along your gratitude. Though he does have a habit of being far too egotistical for my liking at times, he’s the only one who can match my stubbornness with you're gone. 

As for your situation, I will be sure to prepare a lecture befitting a proper criminal. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about your imprisonment! I’m beginning to think you enjoy worrying me over and over again. One day, I’ll have a heart attack or an aneurysm from all the stress, thanks to you.

I’m relieved to hear you’re thinking of me. It makes me feel less foolish for my own thoughts.

— Your friend who misses you greatly.

Letters 1-5 | Letters 6-10 | Letters 11-15 | Letters 16 - 20 | Letters 21-25 | Letters 26-30 | Letters 31-35 | Letters 36 - 40 | Letters 41-45 | Letters 46-50 | Letters 51- 55 | Letters 56- 60 | Letters 61- 65 | Letters 66- 70 | Letter 71 |

Masterlist!

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Grist:

As a prominent Democrat, Gore’s impassioned advocacy has been blamed for making climate change seem like a liberal thing to care about. To Gore, that’s an example of attacking the messenger without looking at the deeper reasons why climate change is politically contentious in the first place. “Even when Pope Francis, for goodness’ sake, speaks out on it, they attack him and say that he’s meddling in partisanship.” If there’s anyone to blame for polarization, he said, it’s the fossil fuel industry, which has tried to take control of the conversation about climate change. 

“This is the most powerful and wealthiest business lobby in the history of the world, and they spare no effort and no expense to try to block any progress,” Gore said. “Whoever sticks his or her head up above the parapet draws fire from fossil fuel polluters, and they use their legacy networks of economic and political power to try to block any solutions of any sort that might reduce the consumption of fossil fuels.”

In his decades of talking to the public about climate change, he says he’s learned a few things. You have to keep in mind a “time budget” that people will give you to speak with them, as well as a “complexity budget” so that you avoid dumping facts and numbers onto people. Finally, he says, you need to allot a “hope budget” so they don’t get too overwhelmed and depressed.

Even while progress has been slower than he’d hoped, Gore sees signs that things are moving in the right direction. Last year, 86 percent of new electricity generation installed worldwide came from renewables, for example. Not to mention that Congress, where climate legislation had long gone to die, finally managed to pass a landmark climate law in 2022, the Inflation Reduction Act, which aims to drastically trim U.S. emissions through green incentives and rebates. 

“It’s the kind of challenge that is so compelling — once you pick it up, you can’t put it back down again — because it really requires any person of conscience, I think, to keep working on it until we get the kind of progress that’s needed.”

[serahlink]

‼️EMERGENCY COMMS OPEN 2025 - please read!‼️

Reblogs are greatly appreciated! Thank you.

Hi all, so sorry to have to make a commissions post for yet another year (this is the fourth one at this point since we've been homeless :( ) but the shelter we've been staying at the last several months has been only getting worse in treatment and a lot of people are being moved, and for us at this point it isn't really a matter of if we gotta go but when with everything going on, I'd like us to have funds at the ready to go to a motel since there's no other shelters around that both have transportation and take men and women. We got a bit saved up, around 120-50ish? But we need around 270 range as a starting point.

The shelter barely gives me time to work (aka they want us to do stuff for the shelter/mandatory groups) so during the day when I have to be out, I'll be able to make slow but efficient progress. I've been getting them out quick lately so hopefully that continues until I can go back to dedicating full time! Smaller commissions will probably take around 1-2 weeks while a much bigger one will take up to a month or shorter, I'm only given 4 hours to work other than the usual 24 or under so please bear with me :")) No refunds can be given out again due to our situation but I'll give updates and make changes where possible! I'm still drawing fantasy; Dragon Age, Baldurs Gate, and I've even done some for Mass Effect before! I've also done other fandoms; furries, dragons, modern/human ocs, etc! But if anything doesn't fit those lines, feel free to ask me about it if you're unsure! My only donts are excessive gore, nsfw (nonsexual nudity is ok!) and anything that falls into hate content or any of the philias if you catch my drift :")

If you have any questions or are interested, feel free to pm me here and let me know, and also if you'd like to donate directly, (no pressure, I understand and appreciate any reblogs/help we get!), just pm me and I'll send over the payment info :)) otherwise, thank y'all so much for the support and help you've shown us over the years, even now. It really means a lot that we've been able to make it this long and we wouldn't have gone so far if not for everyone who's been there and made that possible. Thank you so so much.

My prices are below!

~Prices~

Sketch (price depending on type of sketch) - base price of 15$

Sketch page - 15$ per sketch

Headshot - 30$ (+10$ if shaded)

Bust - 40$ (+10$ if shaded)

Expression Sheet (minimum of 3 heads per sheet, 10$+ per extra head) - 50$ (10$+ if shaded)

Half body - 65$ (+10$ if shaded)

Full body - 80$ (+15$ if shaded)

Couples Commission (a commission that includes two people) - 120$ (+15$ if shaded)

Group commissions (commission that includes more than two people, price dependant on the details) - 60 base price(one character, unshaded; each extra character is +75% to the original price) (40$+ if shaded) 

Paintings (price depending on the details) - 100$+

[starwarsmum]

I made a thing! Just a silly drabble.

Alfred's Appreciation Party

Summary:

Just a fun little supposed-to-be crack fic.

The bat boys decide Alfred deserves to know how much they appreciate him and are throwing a party. Fluff ensues when Damian contacts an internet famous baker that Alfred likes and convinces her to come and cater the desserts for the party.

Notes:

Hi! Welcome to my first Daminette fic, inspired by the song "Bread" by Anya Nami.

It started as something that was supposed to be light and funny and then spiraled into a whole 10k word fic. I'm not really sure what happened, I think I was possessed. Hope you enjoy it!

I'm not sure how in-character everyone is, but I think I stayed fairly true. Either way, aging up a little means they've had time for growth, so I think it's a reasonable progression.

Bold is messages, italicised bold is in French.

“Tt, I already know what I shall be procuring for Alfred, I do not need your input, Todd.”

The boys were crowded around the dining table, Alfred having gone food shopping half an hour prior and they were trying to coordinate gifts for Alfred's upcoming appreciation party. Jason had been needling Damian about his usual efforts in gift-giving, and he was determined to do better for Alfred.

“Oh yeah, demon spawn? You sound mighty cocky, what's your plan?”

“For your information, I am awaiting a response from Alfred's favourite online baker, whom I shall convince to come and make his gift.”

“Oooh, sounds fancy. What, did you message them yesterday or something?” Jason was mocking him and Damian bristled, a sneer working across his face.

“Do you really think I would leave it so last minute, Todd? I messaged her 3 weeks ago, and it is just as well as she is yet to respond.”

The silence in the room was nearly absolute, the only sound being Tim's fingers tapping away on his laptop. If Damian was a lesser man, he would have fidgeted.

“Why are you giving me that look, Grayson?” Damian ground out, trying to rein in his irritation. Dick was perhaps the only person other than Alfred that Damian would like to impress with his thoughtfulness and it appeared as though he was failing.

“Baby bird, if you messaged her 3 weeks ago and she hasn't responded yet, I don't think she's going to.”

“Tt, this is ridiculous, she is well known for her friendly manner. Why would she not respond to my request?”

“Well, what did you send her?” Damian tutted again before pulling up the direct messages on his phone and turning it to face the others. They peered down, Jason choking back a snort and Dick glancing over at him in pity. It read:

Hello. I request your presence at a family event, to bake one of your masterpieces for my pseudo-grandfather. A timely response is advisable as the event in question is taking place in 8 weeks. Regards.

“...baby bird, this sounds like a bot.” Dick sounded exasperated and Damian huffed, snatching his phone back.

“How would you suggest one goes about requesting services via message? She is clearly a professional and therefore I have messaged accordingly.”

“I dunno, Dames, but it wouldn't be like this! You write like a stuffy 80 year old!”

“Jesus, demon spawn, don't you ever do anything like a human?” Jason added, half jokingly. Damian glared at him, making the taller man's grin widen.

“I do not see any of you coming up with something better.” Damian was already outside of his comfort zone, messaging a complete stranger even if it was for a service.

“I mean, I guess it depends how old this baker is. I wouldn't message the same thing to a 40-something year old as I would someone my age.” Tim said, interjecting to try and bring them back on point without a fight brewing.

“Elaborate, Drake.”

“Well, someone my age would probably work well with a funny meme or something but a 40 year old? Probably a cutesie video, especially if it's coming from someone as young as you.”

“Very well, Drake. How old do you believe her to be, based on her posts?” He knew that Tim was best versed in business, being co-CEO, and trusted him (in this) to give him the best advice.

“I mean, she's pretty proficient at her craft and she writes pretty professionally, but she also shared that whole bread meme thing, so…late 20s? Purely as a guess. I'd need to do more research to get an exact age but if I search it on the batcomputer, there's a higher chance of Bruce seeing it and it getting back to Alfred.”

“Tt, very well, we shall have to go with your initial assessment of late 20s then. What do you suggest I do to get a response?”

“I mean, you already tried to message once which means you need to prove you're not a bot…so a video maybe?”

“Drake, that sounds-” Damian was cut off by Dick, who squealed and bounced up in his seat.

“Like the best idea ever! Oh my god, Tim, you said she shared that bread song, right? Lil D should do a video with that song in it! It'll show he's paying attention, and prove he's a real person!”

“That's a bit of a leap, Dick, but it'll show he's not a bot I guess.” Tim had returned to being engrossed in his work, not bothering to spare any more time on Damian's problems.

“Didn't the original video have the singer in some kind of bread costume doing a dance? Damian, you should definitely do the dance! And then we can help you craft the message to send with it!”

“Grayson, I do not think that a damning video of me doing what I am sure is a demeaning dance is a good ide-” Damian said, beginning to get frustrated with his favourite older brother, only to get cut off again.

“Come on baby bird, this is for Alfred! I know none of us can do a cake justice and you've already started a conversation with this woman. You don't want his big day to be a flop, do you?” Dick’s eyes were wide and he had a slight pout. Damian sighed internally.

“Tt, fine. Show me this cursed video and I shall endeavor to replicate the dance.”

“That's the spirit, Demon Spawn.”

_ _ _

Damian sat in his room, glaring at the video paused on his laptop screen. It was just as horrendous as he had assumed it would be. How could anyone find this amusing, let alone a professional baker?

He scrolled further down the page, looking for any alternative videos that she seemed to enjoy but most everything else was professionally made cakes, breads and desserts. He was about to give up when he came across a post she had shared about an animal shelter and commented that she would be attending and providing goods for the charity event. He smiled slightly, a plan beginning to formulate.

_ _ _

Marinette was working on her latest masterpiece, a suit for Jagged which had an English theme - she had run with it a little, adding little embroidered crowns and clock towers. A few of her friends were there, working on various homework pieces and revision for tests, but they were working in amicable silence.

*video file attached

She stretched when a chime sounded from her phone, allowing her concentration to move over to it as she had finished a particularly stubborn section. Rolling her shoulders, she saw that someone had messaged her through her baking channel. She had set it up on the American part of the site so that she could spread her expertise further than France and it had been well received. She opened the message, frowning as she recognised the chat name as one she had received a suspicious message from just shy of a month before.

Greetings again. I have yet to hear back from you regarding my request for your services at my pseudo-grandfathers party. It has been brought to my attention that you may have believed my message to be a ‘bot’, which is not the case. I have attached a video of myself, and two of my pets, to prove that I am serious about requesting your services. I am now 1 month away from the family event and need to know whether you would be willing to come and prepare the aforementioned baked good(s). I look forward to your timely response.

Marinette sighed and clicked onto the video, after making sure it wasn't sending her to a different site. She raised her eyebrows as a familiar song started up and a tall Arabic boy (man? She couldn't tell but she thought he might be just slightly older than her) began to sing along. He looked uncomfortable but determined, a very attractive look for Marinette and her jaw dropped as a black and white cat sat regally beside him, its tail seeming to swish in time to the music. And then a great dane joined on ‘thick and fried’ which made Marinette giggle.

“Dupain-Cheng, I thought we agreed that you were not allowed to play that ridiculous song any more?” Chloe groaned, dropping her head into her hands as everyone else laughed.

“This is not my fault, Chlo!” Marinette squeaked, flushing and pausing the video. “I can't help it if someone else sends me the song! I was just trying to be responsible and check my messages for the baking channel I run.”

“Wait, someone other than you likes that song?” Alya said, leaning over to take a look. “Is that English? Why are you getting messages in English? Like you're not famous enough in France, you're spreading to America? Damn girl!”

Marinette giggled and shushed her, biting her lip as she read over the message, then silenced the sound on her phone so she could watch the video again without annoying her friends. She contemplated the message and decided to write back immediately, getting carried away in her enthusiasm for his video.

Oh my God, that video is my new fave thing!

>>

How did you get your dog and cat to do that??

Wait, wait, sorry, I'm supposed to be professional on this profile, dammit.

Let me start over.

Hi! You were correct in guessing that I thought you were a bot, sorry about that. I would love to offer my services to you, but I will need to know what it is you want so that I can plan accordingly.

Also, there's not much on your profile, so I can't work out where I would be coming to? That's also kind of important information, so I can plan around my other commitments.

>>

Damian hadn't expected her to answer so quickly but was pleased that the video had done as intended. He pondered how to continue the conversation before responding.

>>

Thank you for your responses. I am based in Gotham, New Jersey and the event is being held at a local hall. Such an important event would normally be held at the manor but Alfred would become too aware and that would spoil the surprise.

>>

Rose squealed, reading the messages over her shoulder, before turning to tell the others that Marinette was being commissioned for cakes in America. Everyone else started chattering at this point, excitement building as Alix counted forward the dates from when Marinette had received the messages.

“That means you'd be over there just before the end of November. We don't have any big tests or anything planned for then, do we?”

“Hn,” Marinette confirmed, still slightly in shock. Her mind was racing and she was already flying through some websites to look for cheap flights, and whether she would be able to take the baked goods from home or if she'd need to be there early for set up and baking itself. She found reasonably priced flights and a hotel near the airport that she could use, but that meant more traveling on the actual day…

>>

New Jersey USA? Uh, sure, I mean, I am based in Paris, France so it'll be a little harder to get there but I think I can get some cheap tickets. When exactly is this event?

*picture attached

>>

Please find all the relevant details on this invitation. The distance is of no consequence, if you are amenable. I can provide transport to and from the event, as well as somewhere to rest.

>>

Okay, that sounds fine. Is there any chance we can change from a text conversation to a phone, or video call?

>>

That sounds agreeable, is now convenient?

>>

Marinette excused herself from the room, running her fingers through her hair and making sure it wasn't standing up on end as it tended to when she got too deep into her creative groove. She wanted to make sure she looked appropriately professional as this was technically a client call, even if it had started with a silly video.

When she was slightly calmer, she settled herself onto the kitchen stool, with the laptop on the bar and clicked the video call icon. It rang twice before connecting to a much darker room, the sun just beginning its path into the sky. Marinette gave a little squeak as a pair of green eyes connected with hers and she felt herself flush lightly.

“Greetings, my name is Damian. You are…much younger looking than my brothers and I had assumed.” The Arabic boy began, brow furrowed in thought.

“Oh, uh, hi, I'm Marinette! And, um, thank you? I mean, I'm nearly 18 but people do think I'm much younger. It's the height usually, I think.” She fidgeted slightly, wondering if he was going to change his mind. If he had thought her older, perhaps he was uncomfortable with having a seventeen-year-old work on such a big event.

“I did not intend to make you uncomfortable, my brothers and I merely thought you were older based on your skills and manner of conduct. But if you are not yet 18, I am not sure whether we are able to conduct business.” Damian's brow was still furrowed and Marinette struggled to get a read on him. She wasn't always great at reading boys, especially ones she found attractive- no, bad Marinette, stay on topic.

“Oh, no, that's fine, my honorary uncle has been commissioning me for things since I was 14 and he's based in America. And my parents are bakers, so I think they'd rather I'd rep them internationally.” She was babbling, but all of her words were coming out in the right order at least. She thanked every kwami in existence that she had been taking English lessons from Felix since she decided to go international with her brands.

“Excellent, then the next thing we will need to discuss is the actual request. Alfred is very important to our family and so I would like something equally special for this occasion.”

They chatted for half an hour, discussing Alfred's favourite foods, drinks and hobbies. Marinette gathered that whilst he wasn't a blood relation, he was important to Damian and that meant she needed to get this right if she wanted to impress him. Not that she wanted to impress Damian for any reason other than professionally!

When the call finally ended, Marinette promised to send him an email with her final designs for the desserts as well as an estimate on price. Once those were all finalised she would send him a list of ingredients she would need on the day. He in return would make sure her flights and accommodation were arranged and send her all the details for those.

As Marinette turned back towards her loft room, she saw the trap door snap shut and heard giggling. She groaned before going to face her friends. She glared at Alya and Rose, the two most likely to have been spying on her conversation with Damian and only got smirks back.

“So, he was cute,” Rose began, squealing when Marinette blushed. “I knew you thought so too! And his voice sounded so…” she sighed and waved her hands gently.

“Rose, he's a client,” began Marinette, turning resolutely back to her work station. She only had a few finishing touches to add to Jagged's suit, so she wanted to push through and finish it so she could turn all of her attention onto Damian's request. “Regardless of his voice, politeness or eyes, I am going to be professional and work on his commission without making a fool of myself, I hope.”

“His eyes, huh girl?” Alya interjected smugly, making Marinette flush again. “Let me guess, if you were distracted by his eyes, they must've been green, and he was super sunshine-y? You so have a type.”

“For your information, he was perfectly polite and not sunshine-y at all. So clearly I don't have a type-”

Marinette grinned at her gratefully before turning the topic forcefully onto the coming week's events at school. There were a few more good-natured jokes but they all knew that Marinette did things in her own time. Even though she and Adrien hadn't worked out, she had managed to start dating him eventually and they had remained amicable even after the break-up.

“Oh, so you are interested in him?” Alix piped up, glancing up from her maths homework. Seeing Marinette turn an evening deeper shade of red she chuckled before turning back to her work. “Whatever, I'm not interested in forcing you to admit it.”

_ _ _

“So, baby bird, did you get a response from the bakery woman? We've managed to book the entertainment, the rest of the catering, all the invitations are back so it's just the cake! We just need to know if we need to arrange an alternative.”

Dick had come to Damian's room and they were sitting on his bed whilst Damian groomed Titus. Damian had been chatting with Marinette regularly for the past 3 weeks and felt confident that come the following week, Alfred would be both surprised and pleased with his gift.

“Tt, that will be unnecessary, Grayson. She responded and I have arranged for her to come the day before and for her to have access to an adequate cooking space.” Damian gave Titus a final brush before ordering him to lie down. He turned back to Dick and pulled his phone towards himself. He could see the light indication showing that he had a new message, which he was sure would be from Marinette.

“Wow, seriously? Way to go lil D! Is she aware of the amount she'll need to bake? We, uh, kind of went overboard on the invites.”

“I have made all necessary arrangements, Grayson, I do not appreciate your lack of confidence,” he snapped back, a slight sneer curling his lips. His look softened however as he opened his chat to see the final designs of Alfred's desserts. He turned the phone so Dick could see them, huffing. “Do you see? Marinette has adequately captured the theme for the event and I have no doubt that she will be able to perform exceedingly well on the day. Was there anything else you required?”

_ _ _

Back in Marinette’s room, she was chatting on the phone, holding up the suit she had created so that it could be seen in all of its glory.

“Yes, uncle Jagged, I have your latest commission ready to go! I didn't realize you had another concert already, are you going on tour?”

“Rock n roll M! It looks awesome, better than I could've hoped. And nah, it's not really a concert, an old family friend is throwing a party for his butler and I grew up around him so I offered to rock the house for them.” Jagged gave her a thumbs up through the screen and played a riff on an imaginary guitar.

“He's throwing a party for his butler?” Marinette blinked several times, shooting him an incredulous look. She knew Jagged was eccentric but it sounded like his family friend was equally, I'd not more, so. She tried to imagine Chloe, even after she had made vast improvements to her personality, doing anything remotely nice for her butler and drew a blank.

“Well, he's more of a father for him since his own mom and pops passed away. Old Alfie P has been with the family forever and the kids decided he'd earned a little party. So I'm headed back to Gotham next week to rock out.” Marinette was nodding along to this until she did a double take.

“Wait, Gotham? You don't mean Alfred's appreciation party, do you?” No way, there was no way that Jagged was talking about Damian's party. She knew it wasn't his actual grandfather but he had spoken about the man with such warmth and affection that Marinette had assumed it was an old family friend that had been around enough that he was basically family. Like Jagged now was for Marinette.

“M, how the heck do you know about a party halfway round the world?” Jagged was laughing again, although he looked incredulous.

“Jagged, I'm making the party cake! I got a request from Damian ages ago, he's flying me over and putting me up for a couple of days so I can sort it out.” Flabbergasted, Marinette immediately started thinking about how she could avoid people making the MDC connection if Jagged was at the party too. She had no idea how popular he was in the states and didn't want to be outed before she turned 18.

“Well hell kid, small world I guess! Rock n roll, if you're gonna be there it'll be the party of the century!”

_ _ _

The flight had been long and Marinette struggled to sleep thanks to an older man snoring loudly only 2 seats from her. She was sorely regretting insisting that Damian only pay for standard seats instead of business but she hadn't wanted to take advantage. As the plane landed, she rushed to get her belongings and get out of there, hoping she wouldn't be too delayed by customs.

As she wheeled her carry-on suitcase through the arrivals area, Marinette could see the tall, dark and broody Arabic boy standing primly to the side. He held no sign but was wearing the agreed upon colours so she would be able to spot him easily. She felt her heartbeat pick up as he spotted her and clipped a nod in her direction and she let a smile spread across her face.

“Hi Damian, thanks for picking me up, this airport is bigger than I expected! And you are way taller than I thought you'd be.”

“Tt, I imagine you think that of many people. You are much more petite than I had assumed as well.”

“Wow, rude! I'm just compact,” Marinette laughed, before taking his proffered elbow delicately with her hand. She felt how tense he was

“Apologies, I merely-”

“I'm kidding, Damian, I know I'm short. But you're still way hotte- taller, way taller than I thought you'd be.” She blushed at her slip, looking away, missing the slight pink tinge making its way across his own features, though she did feel how he relaxed and allowed herself a moment of relief.

“Ahem, yes, well, we should make our way to the car, my acquaintance is likely growing bored.” He had taken hold of her suitcase and wheeled it along. She beamed at him again, embarrassment pushed aside by the news of meeting one of his friends.

“Oh, sure, let's go! Do I get a name for this ‘acquaintance’ of yours, or do I have to guess?” she said teasingly, watching as he rolled his eyes but allowed his mouth to upturn slightly.

“Tt, Kent is of no importance, you need not concern yourself with acquainting yourself with him. You will likely have to interact with many imbeciles in the next 24 hours, there is little point in beginning your torment early.”

“Kent, huh?”

_ _ _

“Hi there! So you're the mysterious baker from France that Dames has been chatting with. Did you have a good flight?” Another tall, dark-haired boy was leaning against the car, although he was much more smiley than Damian. Marinette smiled up at him and extracted her hand from Damian's elbow to offer it for a handshake

“And you must be Damian's acquaintance, Kent! The flight was okay, just very long. I'm very relieved to be back on the ground for the next 24 hours.” The boy’s grin widened and he took her fingers in a light grip. He shot a hurt look at Damian, although I was tempered with exasperation.

“Acquaintance? Damian, buddy, that hurts.”

“Tt, your feelings are of no consequence to me, Kent. If it were not for the fact that Alfred cannot know of this collection, I would not have involved you.” Damian had looked away and Marinette stifled a giggle. She was trying very hard not to find him overwhelmingly attractive but it was cute when he squabbled with his friend.

“Wow, just wow. I'm gonna tell Dick that you were mean to me again, and in front of company as well!” Damian opened his mouth to say something scathing but Marinette felt it was time to get them back on track.

“Sorry to interrupt, but it really has been a long day for me, any chance we can wrap this up and head on over to my uncle's place? I already messaged him to say I'd landed.”

“Of course, allow me to take your luggage and settle yourself into the car, please.” Damian immediately opened the trunk and slid her suitcase in. He then held open the back door for her before gently closing it. Jon was shooting him a raised eyebrow over the top of the car but he chose to ignore it, settling himself into the front passenger seat.

But in spite of this, he couldn't help the red tinge to his neck and ears that crept slowly and stayed for the duration of the drive.

_ _ _

Marinette had spent most of the morning prepping in the kitchen of the party hall. She had known there were going to be quite a few guests but the size of the hall had still shocked her. But once she was in the groove of baking, she had forgotten about what she was baking for.

So when Jagged and Penny showed up, early so that he could put on the suit she had made and set up, she was once again blown away by the grandeur, as well as by the decorations which had appeared in the interim.

“Wow, this is a gorgeous set up! And that backdrop is exactly Jagged’s style! Penny, did you see the backdrop?”

“Yes, Marinette, I saw. The tables for the cakes are through here.” Penny was smiling indulgently, much as she did when Jagged was getting overexcited, as she steered the younger woman towards a group of ridiculously attractive men. They all had dark hair, although their ages seemed to range slightly, and Marinette was relieved to see Damian standing with them.

“Oh my God, lil D, is this her? The baker? She's so adorable! And tiny!” The oldest looking one positively bounced towards her, holding out a hand that she accepted gracefully.

“Hi, I'm Marinette and this is Penny. Are you another of the hosts for this evening?”

“Eep! Too cute! I think I'm gonna combust.” Dick felt like a tensed up coil, practically vibrating with enthusiasm as Damian maneuvered himself beside the tiny French girl and glared at him.

“Tt, Grayson, calm yourself. Yes, Marinette is the baker and Penny is her aunt. We still need to set up so if you are capable, you can carry some of the boxes through from the car.” He continued to glare at Dick, although it only seemed to make his grin wider, before Marinette interjected.

“Thanks Damian, but we can do it ourselves. I'm sure he has plenty of other things to be getting on with.” Marinette beamed up at Damian and he relented, huffing. Dick's smile only grew until he was beaming too, watching as his baby brother took hold of the girl’s shoulders and began steering her away from them all.

“Tt, then he should be getting on with them, whilst we finish preparing your uncle’s set.” Jason and Tim eyeballed Damian as well, although they were still fairly engrossed in their heated debate over which of Jagged's songs he would be playing that night.

_ _ _

“Rock n roll, M! Those cakes look incredible, and the macarons are perfect. And the suit fits perfectly, just like always!” Jagged hung himself over Marinette's small frame for a moment before removing himself and draping an arm over Penny's shoulder.

“Jagged, please, you're embarrassing me!” She flushed, burying her face in her hands as Jagged chortled and Penny smiled. She was smiling though, she knew the cakes looked incredible, macarons arranged by colour to make a picture of Alfred’s face, a cake in the shape of Buckingham Palace, which Marinette had been reliably informed was where he had worked in his youth and an assortment of sweet and savoury scones.

“Nonsense, Rockette, you should be proud of what you've done! Penny, isn't Marinette just too shy of how good she does?” Jagged ruffled a hand through Marinette's hair, making her squawk and flap his hand away.

“You really are, Marinette, Jagged wouldn't have such an iconic look if not for you.” Penny chided, pulling Jagged's hand away herself as they were approached by Dick and Jason.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! You're Jagged Stone! Like, really, actually Jagged Stone! Jason, did you see who's here?” Dick was flapping again, bouncing up onto his toes and gesturing wildly.

“Shi-”

“Language Jay-bird! There are cute little ears around,” he said, gesturing to Marinette, who pouted adorably.

“Believe me, I've both heard and said worse. There's a reason people say ‘excuse my French', Grayson,” she snarked back, folding her arms across her chest.

“Oh, please, call me Dick, Grayson is just what lil D calls me. My name's Dick Grayson,” he said, ignoring her attitude.

“Wait, does the little French chick know Demon Spawn? How? Isn't she way too sweet to be anywhere near him?” Jason eyeballed her, taking in her messy hair, jeans and apron.

“Marinette here is the dessert caterer for the evening! And she makes it possible for me to be on stage, like, ever,” Jagged said, nodding sagely. He was beaming with pride.

“Oh, does she provide you with snacks or something? You must be older than you look, those cakes are perfect,” Jason said, complimenting her whilst also fishing for information.

“Hmmm? Oh, yeah, little M’s in her last year of high school, loads of people think she's in her first though. But my niece is killing it, especially since old hawky got caught.”

“Jagged, don't you need to set up? Maybe do a practice song?” Marinette started prodding him towards the stage, trying to get them off of the embarrassing topic. “Sorry about him, he tends to get a bit dramatic,” she said, rolling her eyes as he finally sauntered away.

“You know he only does it because you sell yourself short, Marinette.”

“Penny.”

“What? You know, you'll be 18 soon, you'll need to come out with your brand if you want to make it more global. Commission-only might not work so well.”

“Wait, I'm confused, won't you just open a bakery when you graduate?” Dick looked confused, his gaze bouncing between the two.

“Bakery? No, Marinette’s a fashion designer. Baking is what her parents do, which is why she's so good at it. Her parents would need to disown her if she hadn't started learning as soon as she could walk,” Penny said, laughing at the mix-up.

“Oh, really? What sort of things do you design?” So sue him, Jason was increasingly curious about the kid.

“Well, everything I wear tends to be my own design and I make accessories too.” Marinette looked away, hedging around the conversation guiltily.

“Marinette, you're still selling yourself short! What she's not saying is that Jagged wears her brand exclusively on stage. Honestly, I think he'll be wearing her brand until he retires.” Penny's eyes gleamed as Jason's jaw dropped and he whirled to face Marinette fully.

“Wait. Wait wait wait. Wait. Are you telling me that you, small sunshine child, baker extraordinaire and that has been chatting with Demon Spawn, are MDC?!” he shouted, making several heads turn their way before continuing with party prep.

“I mean, my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, so it's literally my initials,” Marinette shrugged, cringing slightly. “I plan on going bigger with my brand once I'm out of school though.”

“Then why on earth are you here as a baker? Oh man, Timmy's gonna freak, he's been searching for MDC’s identity for literal years.”

“I mean, I have socials, why didn't he message me?” Marinette asked, bewildered. Whilst she wouldn't have shared her identity with an internet stranger, she would have been fine to take on a commission.

“Tt, because Drake is a caffeine addict who doesn't use his intelligence appropriately. I assume he only attempted to find your data instead of opening a dialogue.” Damian appeared at Marinette's shoulder, gently touching her elbow to get her attention. “I assume you would like to change before the event begins, Marinette? It will not be long before the guests begin to arrive.”

Marinette startled when she saw the time, cursing under her breath in French which made Dick and Jason raise their eyebrows, and Penny to laugh. Excusing herself, she started to pull the rest of her bun loose as she walked away, hastily untying her apron as she disappeared through another door.

_ _ _

The party was in full swing, Alfred having been suitably surprised and bashfully appreciative of their efforts. He had personally thanked all of the boys under his care - all of them, Bruce included, would always be boys to him - and mingled with old friends and family acquaintances alike.

Damian didn't smile at the result, but he did feel a deep-seated sense of satisfaction. He had already heard Alfred commenting that the dessert looked wonderful, and he was looking forward to telling his pseudo-grandfather that he had arranged for his favourite online baker to make them personally.

He spied Marinette near the stage where Jagged was crooning an old song, apparently from his earlier work. She looked beautiful, wearing a red dress that ended just above the knee, her black shoes comfortable but not visibly well-worn. She had redone her hair into an intricate bun, leaving her shoulders and neck bare. He flushed lightly as he caught himself following the lines of her neck, up to her sparkling smile.

He decided to make his way over to her, noting that she was chatting with Kent again. He was unreasonably pleased that she seemed to be getting along with his friend, although he hoped that they weren't getting along too well. “Marinette?”

“Hm? Yes, Damian?” She turned her smile towards him and he blinked as his heart stuttered. Jon gave him a curious look but he ignored him.

“I would like to introduce you to Alfred, as the main reason I sought you out is because he is a fan of yours. Would this be acceptable?” He offered his arm once more, trying not to preen when she took it without hesitation.

“Sure thing, Damian! Jon was just telling me about some of your pets, but I'm sure we can pick back up on that later?” She smiled back at Jon, flushing happily at how well her evening was going. She had mostly outgrown her awkward teenage phase so whilst taking hold of Damian's arm made her heart thrum pleasantly, she wasn't a stuttering mess.

“Tt, if you wish to know about my animals, I shall be more than happy to introduce you after this event,” Damian said, unreasonably pleased once again that she had been talking about him.

“Really? Awesome! Then I guess I'll see you around Jon, thank you for keeping me company.” She allowed him to pull her away, giving a small wave to a grinning Jon as she went. She leaned in to Damian conspiratorially and whispered, “So, how do I look? I don't want to meet your pseudo-grandfather looking messy.”

“Alfred will not comment on your appearance, regardless, but…you look…well put together.” He flushed slightly as his gaze flicked down and over her, making her skin buzz. She bit the inside of her cheek and refrained from squealing at the almost compliment. She had spent enough time chatting with him over the phone to know that true compliments were rare and he very much understated things.

“Oh, uh, thank you. You look well put together too,” she said, pulling slightly away without letting go of his arm. They were approaching Alfred, whom she recognised from the picture Damian had sent her in preparation for the macaron art.

“Tt. Marinette, this is Alfred. Alfred, this is Marinette, she is responsible for the desserts this evening. You may know her better by her online handle 'dc.boulangerie’.” Damian was a little stiff, feeling self-conscious even though he was only introducing her as the evening's dessert chef. It felt more momentous than it should and Damian felt an unusual amount of pressure building up inside of him. He wanted Alfred to like Marinette, and he had wanted to be the one to introduce her, whatever that meant for him.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Marinette. I have been a long time admirer of your baking. I would enjoy having a conversation with you at a more appropriate time and venue.” Damian let out a breath as Alfred inclined his head towards her respectfully and he felt himself relax.

“Well, Damian invited me to meet his pets, assuming you all live together, I'm sure we can find time to chat,” Marinette said, squeezing Damian's elbow gently as she leaned towards him. The conversation continued lightly and Marinette allowed herself to reciprocate Damian's dry humour, startling a chuckle from Alfred and a warm eye roll from Damian.

_ _ _

A short distance away, Jason, Tim and Dick were watching the pair with interest. Jason commented on it as Bruce joined them. “So…we all see Demon Spawn flirting with the French Pixie, right?”

"It's so adorable! And did you see him blush? I wish I'd caught it on camera.” Dick was watching them with a sappy grin on his face, squealing as Damian leaned down and murmured something in the girl's ear.

“Are we sure we weren't all dosed with something? Cos this is freaky. Either that or the world's ending,” Jason said, eyeing them more warily than any of the others. He grunted a hello as the Kent family came to join them.

“Well, you might be able to get something on camera next time Dick - he invited her to meet the other Alfred as well,” Jon said, not bothering with any preamble. He was both smug and floored that his best friend was showing interest in a girl - especially one as cute and friendly as Marinette.

“No way, he set up a second date? That's so smooth! Bruce, have you been teaching him how to talk to girls?” Dick was practically vibrating at this point, beaming at Bruce now.

“Dick, I wasn't even aware he was inviting Miss Dupain-Cheng this evening. Do you mean to tell me nobody here has been giving him pointers?” As everyone either shook their heads or gave a sound of derision (Jason), Bruce hummed thoughtfully. “Well, perhaps he's better socialised than we give him credit for.”

“No, that can't be it, he threatened a girl at school just last week for getting too close to his locker. It must just be Marinette, she's a total sunshine bomb on him.” Jon was cocking his head slightly as he very obviously (to them) eavesdropped on Damian’s conversation.

“Well, I think I’ll go and introduce myself and see it firsthand,” Bruce said, clapping a hand on Clark's shoulder in a friendly manner.

“I'll come with you, Bruce, Jason said something about her having an in with my favourite designer,” Tim said, as enthusiastically as he could manage with how tired he clearly was, before they made their way over to the pair in question. Marinette was speaking animatedly, clearly in the middle of a very entertaining story as Alfred had a small smile.

“...and that's when everything went downhill! I mean, who thought it was a good idea to put those colours, with that fabric?” Those around Marinette laughed out loud, even Damian giving a short bark. Tim and Bruce watched as Marinette smiled up at him, clearly delighted that she had produced that sound from him.

“Alfred, are you having a good evening?” Bruce and Tim had finally reached the small group, making their way to Alfred first and foremost. The older gentleman inclined his head to both of them individually as Damian leaned down once again to murmur something in Marinette's ear.

“Good evening, Master Bruce. It has been splendid, I must confess that I had not expected such a grand event for me.” Alfred was also eyeing Marinette and Damian, who had seemed lost in their own little world for the moment, although Damian proved he was listening when he rolled his eyes and responded.

“Tt, Alfred, that was the point of the evening. If you had expected it-”

“What Damian means is, you're welcome Monsieur Alfred. Honestly, Damian, can't you hear a compliment for what it is?” Marinette chided him, making him grimace in good humour. At some point during her story, she had let go of his elbow to gesture and his hand had found its way to her opposite hip and he gave her a gentle squeeze.

“...I am glad you are having a good evening, Alfred. Father, Drake, this is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She is responsible for the dessert catering this evening.”

“I'm Tim, and you must be the person with the connection to MDC! You're wearing an original of theirs this evening, aren't you?” Tim barrelled into the conversation intent on only one thing, making a pained expression cross Bruce's face.

“Ah, yes, Jason mentioned that you've been trying to track down Jagged’s personal designer for a while. What is it you want from her?” Marinette sounded politely bemused and Damian had to cough to cover a snort that tried to escape him.

“So you do know them! Oh my god, I can't believe I might know who they are soon! Okay, so, I've been hoping to commission a piece for the next Wayne gala.” Where he had seemed half asleep before now, Tim was wide awake and buzzing with anticipation.

“Oh, is that a big event?” Marinette asked, frowning slightly when they all turned to look at her in astonishment. She raised an eyebrow delicately at Tim, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Do…do you not know who the Waynes are?” Tim sounded dumbfounded and he was looking at Damian, who was looking uncomfortable suddenly, rather than Marinette. She glanced at Damian before responding.

“I mean, I live in Paris? I'm guessing they're American celebrities. And if they aren't a big name in fashion, I'm not really interested in celebrity gossip. I take it they're a big deal over here?”

“I'm surprised Damian hasn't mentioned them, at least once, given how vain he can be,” Bruce said drily, causing his only blood son to glare at him.

“Tt, that's enough, father. If I had thought it relevant or worth mentioning, I would have. Marinette, you said you wished to continue your conversation with Kent earlier, is that still something you desire?”

“Sure, it's been a pleasure to meet you, Alfred and I'll look forward to chatting with you tomorrow! If your kitchen is big enough, maybe we can do some baking together?”

“Our kitchen is of an adequate size and appropriately stocked. I shall look forward to it.”

Marinette gave a goodbye to Bruce and Tim before placing her hand back into the crook of Damian's arm and strolling away with him.

“Well, that was interesting. How did Damian get in touch with Miss Dupain-Cheng? She doesn't seem like someone he would normally spend time with.” Bruce was slightly blown away with the interaction: since when had Damian been willing to get to know other people?

“I mean, actually, he spends most of his time with Jon, and she seems a lot like a smaller version of him.”

“Yes, but he still complains about spending time with Jon, even if he doesn't mean it, whereas that? He was polite, let her touch him and chose to walk with her instead of dismissing her to get her away from us. And, apparently, he didn't tell her his last name. I would just like to know how he came to be acquainted with her.”

“Oh no!” At Tim's sudden outburst Alfred moved towards him, alarmed.

“What's wrong, Master Tim?”

“She didn't tell me how she knows MDC!”

_ _ _

Across the room, Jon glanced over at the trio before turning back to Marinette and Damian. “So anyway, Marinette, Damian never told me how you two met!”

“It isn't a very interesting story, I'm afraid,” Marinette said ruefully. “He messaged me on my baking socials, and then we did a couple of calls. Et, c’est l���histoire.”

“So Damian successfully navigated an online message? Well enough to get you to fly over from France for a single event?” Jon was amazed, Damian didn't really use social media, and he certainly didn't message strangers on the internet.

“Oh, no, he most definitely did not! I read his first message, he sounded like a bot and she ignored him.” Dick sounded gleeful as he pushed himself into the conversation. “So we told him he should send a follow up with a video to prove he wasn't a bot.”

“Mon dieu, so you're the reason for the video! I thought it was out of character for him after speaking with him for a while. I must thank you Dick, that video was the highlight of my year.” Marinette looked delighted and bounced onto the balls of her feet as she shook Damian's arm.

“Wait, you actually did the video?! How come I never got to see it, lil D?” Dick looked offended, pouting at Damian. Jon laughed aloud, quickly covering his mouth to stifle it.

“Tt, because I only chose to embarrass myself for Alfred, not for your amusement. Marinette, I forbid you to share it with these cretins, or I shall be forced to rescind my invitation to the manor tomorrow.” Damian sounded annoyed but his neck and ears were red again, making Marinette giggle as she patted his arm.

“Alright, Damian, I won't share the video with your brothers this evening. I want to meet Titus and Alfred junior far too much to risk making you my enemy.” Damian allowed his mouth to turn up at one corner before he fixed his face back to neutral.

“Excellent. Which reminds me, we should arrange a suitable time for me to collect you tomorrow.” He had leaned back down to her, making it more intimate and she flushed again, although she managed to keep the conversation going.

“I can make my own way to you if you give me the address! It doesn't make sense for you to come and collect me if we are only going to return to your home.” She whisper argued back to him, her head leaning back so she could glare playfully into his face. It was entertaining, if a little bewildering. More bewildering was when Marinette was knocked slightly sideways by a purple haired man.

“Little M! My mate Brucie invited us to lunch tomorrow at his house, you're not flying back til the next morning, are you Rockette?”

“Jagged! Tu m’as fait peur! Oui, I am not flying until the day after tomorrow but Damian has already invited me to spend the day with him. You will have to go with Penny I'm afraid.” Marinette was holding her hand over her chest whilst Damian had a hand hovering nearby to her. Whilst she calmed down, Jagged threw himself back over her shoulders with a slight whine.

“Aw, c’mon Marinette, it's not every day you get to spend the day with Bruce Wayne! He's got connections which could help boost your brand, way better than I ever could. I know you do more than just my style so I can't be the only one repping you around here.”

“Mon dieu, alright, Damian, would it be alright to visit with you in the evening? We could have dinner together. I will just have to check with Monsieur Alfred in regards to his schedule.” Marinette turned towards him apologetically only to see a pained expression crossing his face again.

“Wait a second, Dames, does Marinette not know your full name?” Dick sounded delighted again, throwing his arm around Damian’s shoulders. Damian huffed angrily and jabbed Dick in the ribs to make him get off.

“Jesus, Demon Spawn, did you forget to introduce yourself to her? Normally it's the first thing you say. Or, well, the only thing you say.” Jason had a smarmy grin and he stayed just outside of stabbing reach, which Damian found irritating.

“It was not relevant, Todd,” Damian bit out, his jaw tight. Marinette looked at him concerned for a moment before the confusion on her face cleared up.

“Ah, I see why Tim was confused as well now. I take it you are a Wayne, Damian? I understand, many celebrities choose not to use their last names before getting to know someone.” Marinette shrugged delicately and took hold of Damian's hand.

“Rockette, are you telling me you flew halfway around the world to a party without knowing who you were with? Hardcore.” Jagged looked impressed which made Jason snort, breaking the tension again.

“It would hardly be the first time, Jagged. Marinette told me the story of when she first met Adrien, she-” Marinette squawked and flapped her free hand at Penny to quiet her.

“Merde, yes, thank you, Penny! I very much doubt everyone here needs to hear every embarrassing thing I have done. I have already explained to Damian that I don't follow American celebrities. The Waynes are not in fashion, yes?” She peered up at Damian with a grimace.

“Well, no, but they do have a hand in almost everything else. You're friends with Max, how do you not know Wayne Enterprises?” Marinette groaned at Penny, bringing her hand back to her face. She stood like that for a moment until she whined again, turning to bury her face into Damian's arm.

That made everyone laugh and Marinette glared around at them all. She was muttering obscenities under her breath again, as she ran her hand through her fringe. She blushed as Damian squeezed her hand, before tucking it back into the crook of his elbow. Jason nudged Dick, motioning his head towards the pair which would normally make Damian glared at them, but it seemed as though he was too occupied.

“Wait, so Bruce Wayne is from Wayne Enterprises? That's why Felix was laughing so much when I told him about the party! Oh, I will never live this down!”

_ _ _

Marinette nervously straightened out her shirt, checking her hair. She had 5 minutes before Damian arrived and she had been ready for at least 20 minutes already. He had told her to dress in her jeans today so she had paired it with a long sleeved green peasant blouse that she had made after the first time she video chatted with Damian. The fabric reminded her of his eyes, not that she admitted it to anyone.

When Damian arrived on a motorcycle, Marinette felt her face burst into flames. She had known he was attractive before - it was impossible not to know, he was over 6 feet of muscle - but his long legs flicking over the back of the bike before he sauntered over to her? That reverted her back to a stuttering mess, and she felt 14 years old all over again, instead of the confident, capable 17 year old she had been around him so far.

She remained unable to say a complete sentence to him, even as he handed her a spare helmet and helped her into a jacket. Then she sat behind him, holding tightly and feeling his chest moving with every breath. He wove through traffic expertly and she felt safe leaned against him, his warmth seeping into her on the chilly November morning. It was lucky it was dry, the air crisp and whipped against her clothes.

They pulled up to Wayne manor and Marinette temporarily forgot about how gorgeous Damian looked in the face of the enormous mansion. She swore softly, eyes wide as they removed their helmets.

“Mon dieu, I thought manor meant, like, gah, un maison? But this? C'est un château! Damian, mon cher, how do you find anything!?” The endearment slipped out of her but she was too amazed by the manor to notice.

“Tt, it is not as grand as you are making it. It has been in the family for many years, although it was rebuilt after the earthquake. But if you are uncomfortable, we can forgo lunch with my family and find somewhere quieter-” Damian was almost rambling, she thought, as well as slyly trying to get out of the family meal. His cheeks were dusted in pink at her slip and he found he did not want to share her time with the rest of his family.

“Of course not, Uncle Jagged would not forgive me if I failed to attend. Penny would be disappointed too, and I cannot stand when she is disappointed. Besides, if I want to spend more time with you, I shall just have to adjust. And…I am sure I would like to spend more time with you.” Marinette’s own cheeks reddened as she said this, stealing a glance to see the flush spreading up Damian's neck.

“I would like to spend more time with you also,” Damian said softly, offering his hand which she took gratefully. “Alfred has asked that we visit with him first, and then after lunch I shall take you to meet Alfred the cat, Titus and perhaps we shall take a walk so you can meet my turkey and my cow.”

“Will you be staying with me whilst I cook with Alfred? I would hate to have to try and find you in this giant house.” She tugged on his hand gently until he began leading her inside. Despite Damian's insistence that the manor was not as big as she was proclaiming, Marinette was awestruck by the gothic interior designs and knew that once she had her sketchbook available, she would be designing many new items. Perhaps she would talk to Jagged about a more gothic theme for his next show, or maybe she would make something for Juleka…

Time passed quickly in the kitchen with Alfred, friendly chatter and expert advice both given and received. Damian. Sat quietly to the side, sketching in his own workbook and adding his thoughts every now and again. Marinette couldn't forget that he was there but she did feel a fresh blush steal over her every time she looked towards him. Luckily, Alfred said nothing about it, perhaps not wanting to embarrass the young woman and man.

Eventually, everything was cooking, so Damian set aside his book and fully joined their conversation, starting a friendly debate about the merits of vegetarianism. The time passed even more quickly when Alfred announced that they should take their seats in the dining room as both Jagged and Penny should be arriving soon and the others would then make their way for lunch too.

As it turned out, Jagged had arrived about an hour before this and had been chatting with Bruce and the other boys as they were huge fans. He took the admiration on the chin, chatting amiably with them until Tim woke up enough to remember that he still didn't know who MDC was.

“What're you talking about mate, you met MDC last night!” Jagged exclaimed, slightly bemused when Tim went bug eyed. “Little Rockette is my one and only designer, Timmy. She has a wicked sense of style, she even made my suit last night.”

“Wait, Damian's new girlfriend is my favourite designer?! How has he hidden this from me?” Tim wailed, turning to the door as Damian and Marinette stepped through it. “How long have you known? Why wouldn't you tell me?”

“Tt, first of all, Drake, I was not aware that she did fashion until last night. Secondly, Marinette pointed out to me yesterday that I contacted her with relative ease and she has social accounts as MDC. Therefore, you should have contacted her yourself. Do not hold others to blame for something you brought upon yourself.”

There was silence for several minutes while Tim stared slack jawed at Damian. And then Penny stage whispered to Marinette, “I see why you like him, Mari. Do I need to have a talk with him?”

_ _ _

“Penny,” Marinette hissed, swatting her whilst everyone else laughed. “Oh, sure, laugh it up, everybody laughs at Marinette.” She pouted and crossed her arms, which made Damian glare at them, which only made them laugh harder.

After lunch, Damian led Marinette around the manor grounds, Titus on his leash, so that Marinette could meet Jerry the turkey and Batcow the…cow. She had giggled adorably when Dick had mentioned the name of the cow and promised that she didn't think less of him for naming his pet after a hero.

“Tt, Batman is a vigilante, not a hero. And if there had not been a batsymbol on her side, it would never have occurred to me to name her Batcow,” he said, grumbling. She giggled again, walking on the other side of Titus. Damian would never admit to it, but he wished he had offered her the leash so that he could walk next to her.

After the visit to his other pets, Damian led her back to the manor, releasing Titus from his leash and ordering him back to his room. Marinette cooed over him for another minute before reluctantly letting him leave. They chatted comfortably about different pets they wanted, which led into their future plans.

Damian stood dumbfounded for more than a few seconds before shaking it off and climbing onto his bike with a small smile on his face.

Whilst Damian didn't want the day to end, he reluctantly took her back to her hotel, with the promise to pick her up in the morning as her ride to the airport. As he walked her to the door of the hotel, Marinette screwed up her courage and pulled him down for a kiss on the cheek. Blushing furiously, she stammered a goodbye before rushing into the hotel.

_ _ _

“Thanks for everything, Damian. I wish I didn't have to head home so soon but what with lycée, I can't afford to stay any longer. But we can stay in touch, right?”

They were standing before the departure gates in the airport, Damian holding the handle of her suitcase whilst Marinette fiddled with her handbag strap. Her courage from the night before had fled in the morning light. As he handed over her suitcase, reluctantly, he grasped her hand tightly. He smiled as a blush worked across her face.

“Of course, Marinette, I shall await your message to say you have landed safely. I am certain we can find time to meet again before Christmas. Father has been saying that I should travel more to learn about his business and there is a Wayne Enterprises branch in Paris…”

Unlike the night before, Damian retained some of his faculties and firmly placed his hand on her own cheek before leaning in to kiss her gently on the lips. Marinette froze momentarily, making Damian freeze and start to pull back before she flung her arms around his neck to pull him closer and kiss him back enthusiastically.

“Then a bientôt, mon cher, I will let you know once the plane lands and when I get home.” Marinette felt emboldened with her hand in his and placed her other on his cheek. She brushed a kiss to his cheek, lingering slightly.

EDIT! Now with a Part 2