magicaldestinyharmony

[magicaldestinyharmony]

[magicaldestinyharmony]

Forget-Me-Nots Kitty - 2022

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Miscommunication is key

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WARNINGS: funny miscommunication, the kids love you (maybe a bit too much)

requests are open

dividers by @cafekitsune

It started, as all catastrophes in the Manor did, with eavesdropping.

Tim was in the hallway, allegedly “cleaning the thermostat” (read: tweaking the heat setting so Steph would stop stealing his hoodies), when he heard voices coming from Bruce’s office. Your voice. And Bruce’s.

Tim had no idea what the argument was actually about. Something about boundaries? Trust? Printer ink? But the tension in your tone made his stomach clench. When Bruce said, “Maybe we need to take a step back,” Tim’s heart dropped.

He called an emergency family meeting in the Batcave.

“Dad and Mom are getting divorced.”

Jason looked up from his sandwich. “They’re not even married.”

“Details!” Tim cried, pacing like a war general. “We could still be split up! This is how it starts. A little coldness, a few missed dinners, then boom—visitation schedules and emotional trauma.”

Dick blinked. “Do we... get split up?”

“Technically, no,” Damian said. “We’re all legally tied to Father. Except for Jason and Stephanie.”

“What happens to us?!”

“Don’t panic,” Steph said, reading from her tablet. “Worst case scenario, we stage a legal rebellion and declare the manor a sovereign child-state.”

“Or,” Tim said, eyes wide, “we get adopted. By Mom.”

Silence.

Then chaos.

“She’d never say no to me,” Dick said confidently.

“I’ll bribe her with cookies,” Jason offered.

Damian narrowed his eyes. “I call emotional manipulation.”

Cass held up a whiteboard: Why not all of us?

So it was decided: Operation Adoption began at dawn.

They convened in the attic. Because the Batcave was under Bruce’s territory, and this was neutral ground.

Dick paced.

Damian sharpened a pencil aggressively.

Cass ate grapes and watched everyone like she was waiting for someone to cry.

Stephanie had already made t-shirts. “Team Mom 4 Lyfe.”

"We need a plan," Tim said, eyes red from Googling "how to stop a divorce you caused by being a messy adult child."

Jason held up a sheet of paper. “What if we ask her to adopt us?”

Dead silence.

Damian blinked. “You mean legally abandon Father?”

Jason shrugged. “It’s called strategic custody realignment.”

Phase One: Woo the Parent

You found your morning coffee already made.

By lunch, your office had been vacuumed, your planner color-coded, and a tray of Damian’s surprisingly excellent macarons appeared on your desk. Something was clearly up.

Dick followed you around like a golden retriever. “You look radiant today. New serum? Or just naturally ageless?”

“You want something,” you said flatly.

“Who, me?” he asked, wounded. “I’m just basking in the presence of my favorite future legal guardian.”

You blinked. “What?”

Jason appeared in the doorway. “Can I interest you in... a bribe?” He held up an embarrassing baby photo of Bruce in a sailor outfit.

“Jason—”

“Don’t make us pick sides in the fake divorce!”

“What fake divorce?!”

“Mom” Steph said, slipping in dramatically, “we’re prepared to make a case. Visitation is a nightmare, and you make the best pancakes. We’ve chosen you. Please accept custody of all emotionally damaged gremlins present.”

You stared at the room of hopeful, slightly unhinged faces.

“Did Bruce put you up to this?”

“Not unless he’s also asking for custody of Alfred,” Tim muttered.

Then Tim slid to you a small note, like they did in those spy movies he liked,  that said "Meet us in the living room in five"

Phase Two: The Pitch

The moment you entered the living room, the lights dimmed.

“Hello?”

Dick dropped from the ceiling.

Literally.

“Hi,” he said cheerfully, landing in a perfect split. “Can we talk?”

All five of them appeared like spirits of guilt, blocking your path to the kitchen. You sat them all down. “Okay. Walk me through your logic.”

Tim pulled out a graph titled Projected Emotional Outcomes Based on Custodial Assignment.

Jason had prepared a PowerPoint. “Slide one: Why Mom is the Superior Parent.”

Slide two: A chart comparing your hugs to Bruce’s handshake-head-pat combo.

Slide three: An animated pie labeled “Pancakes.”

Damian presented a legal document signed in crayon: WE THE CHILDREN CHOOSE THE COOLER PARENT.

“Steph notarized it,” he added.

“She forged my signature,” You whispered.

Steph held up a PowerPoint remote. The TV flashed on. First slide: "Why You Should Keep Us In The Event Of Inevitable Divorce."

You blinked. “Excuse me—what?”

Tim cleared his throat. “We’ve noticed rising tensions in your domestic interactions.”

Cass handed you a binder titled Custody Proposal: Draft 1.

Dick pointed at a bar graph. “Notice that under your influence, emotional stability in the household has increased by 46%. And we’ve had fewer vigilante-related injuries. Except Jason. But he’s a wild card.”

Jason saluted with a juice box.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You think Bruce and I are getting divorced because we argued?”

Damian crossed his arms. “Historically, that is how war begins. ”

Cass stood.

She held up flashcards. One had a stick figure with a cape hugging a heart. Another said ‘We Love You.’

Then she did the unthinkable.

She signed: Please don’t leave us.

Stephanie wiped away a tear. “It’s not manipulation if it’s true.”

Then Cass handed you a video montage she’d edited titled “Adoption: A Love Story,” scored with sweeping instrumental music and slow-mo scenes of you handing out snacks.

Damian climbed onto your lap. “You’re warm and you smell like cinnamon. That’s mom stuff.”

Your heart cracked, then melted.

“I’m not leaving Bruce,” you said gently. “We were arguing about printer ink.”

Silence.

“...Printer ink?” Tim asked weakly.

“He keeps buying magenta in bulk! Who uses that much magenta?!”

The kids slowly looked at one another.

“Abort mission,” Dick said.

“Too late,” Cass signed. “I already filed the motion with the fake Batkid Court.”

“Look,” you said, softening, “you don’t need to panic. Even if Bruce and I ever did break up, you’re not losing me.”

“Promise?” Tim whispered.

You cupped his face. “Swear it.” 

Jason sat beside you on the couch. “I get it if you ever want to get a divorce. Bruce is...Bruce. But you? You’re the only one who remembers to buy snacks we actually like. You’re the one who puts notes in my lunch that say, ‘Don’t stab anyone, even if they deserve it.’ That’s love.”

Dick: “And you help Bruce. Even if he’s being a Bat-Butt.”

Damian knelt. “Legally, I am already a Wayne. But if you filed paperwork, I would accept a hyphen.”

You couldn’t breathe.

Pause.

“So you’re saying we wasted $40 on matching ‘Adopt Me’ t-shirts?”

Later that night, you walked into Bruce’s study and flopped dramatically onto the couch.

“Your children tried to get me to adopt them today.”

He looked up from his paperwork. “Just today?”

“They had charts.”

He nodded. “Ah. The charts phase. Comes right before the emotional blackmail.”

You stared. “This has happened before?”

“Oh, absolutely. You’re the third person they’ve tried it with.”

You gasped. “Who was the second?”

“Alfred.”

You considered this. “They have good taste.”

Bruce smiled faintly. “They love you. That’s all this was. A weird, mildly terrifying love letter.”

You leaned back. “I almost said yes.”

“You still can. We’ll co-parent.”

“Until the magenta ink breaks us.”

He chuckled, kissed your forehead, and added, “Alfred already drafted the adoption paperwork. Just in case.���

Outside the study, eight Batkids listened through the door, celebrating silently.

“See?” Dick whispered. “Still a family.”

Jason wiped away a fake tear. “Group hug?”

“No,” Damian said. “But I will allow a high-five.”

Cass gave him one. It was perfect.

And the family stayed very much intact.

[magicaldestinyharmony]

characters should be weird. they should have strange little hobbies and say things like “do you think birds believe in god”

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my wip has a soundtrack but it’s just the same four sad songs on loop until the serotonin hits

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they told me to “do what i love” but forgot to mention that writing wouldn’t pay rent

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“this won’t be that hard to fix,” i said. moments before god laughed and handed me a subplot i now have to write only to fix in the third draft which will spawn another subplot for the fourth draft. cycle of life.

[magicaldestinyharmony]

the ruling class has yachts. i have a character who monologues about grief in the rain. we are not the same.

[magicaldestinyharmony]

𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐲'𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞

Parings → Dad! Peter Parker x Mom! Reader

Warnings → Fluff, Crack, Whining Peter, Toddler Mayday chaos, Overwhelming cuteness, Sticker attack

Summary → Mayday covers sleeping Peter in stickers, you find him hilariously adorable.

You were finishing up some cleaning in the living room when you suddenly heard giggles from the bedroom. Smiling to yourself, you figured Peter must be keeping Mayday entertained while lounging on the bed. He had offered to watch her while you tidied up, which usually worked out fine...until it didn’t.

After wiping down the last surface, you made your way to the bedroom door, ready to check in on them. The moment you peeked inside, you immediately had to stifle a laugh. Peter was out cold, snoring lightly with his mouth half open, completely unaware of the small chaos happening on top of him. Mayday, your sweet three-year-old, had somehow found a packet of stickers and was currently hard at work, decorating her sleeping dad. She carefully placed stickers all over Peter’s face, chest, and arms. Bright colors and little cartoon characters covering his bare skin.

She turned to you with the biggest grin. "Mama, look!" She announced proudly, pointing at Peter.

"Oh, I’m looking, baby," you said, trying your best to keep your laughter in check. "Daddy looks beautiful."

That was it, you couldn’t hold it in anymore and let out a snort. The sight of Peter, sprawled out on the bed, with a bright pink unicorn sticker on his forehead, a bunch of stars on his cheeks, and little cat faces all over his chest, was too much.

Peter stirred, groaning a little as he slowly woke up. "Why are you laughing so loud?" He grumbled, his voice groggy, his eyes still closed.

"Peter, don’t move-" you tried to warn him, but it was too late.

Peter raised a hand to rub his eyes, but he froze mid-motion as his fingers brushed against something on his face. His eyes snapped open, confused, and he slowly sat up, looking at the sticker-covered hand he had just tried to rub his face with.

“What-" Peter blinked a few times and then glanced down at himself, his eyes widening. "What is this?!"

You burst out laughing again, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. Mayday was clapping her little hands in excitement, clearly thrilled with her masterpiece.

Peter groaned dramatically, looking down at the stickers stuck all over his chest and arms. "Seriously?" He whined, turning to you with the most pitiful expression. "You let her do this to me?"

"I didn’t let her! I just found you like this!" You choked out between fits of laughter, clutching your stomach. "I think she really outdid herself this time. You’re glowing, baby."

He narrowed his eyes at you, a playful pout forming on his lips. "You think this is funny, don’t you?"

"Of course, I do! How could I not?" You pointed at the stickers, still laughing. "You’ve got a whole zoo on your face, babe."

Peter groaned again, running a hand over his chest, trying to peel off a sticker but only managing to pull off half of it. "I’m covered in these things."

Mayday giggled proudly from where she sat, holding up another sticker. "Look, Daddy! Kitty!"

Peter leaned in, his face softening as he looked at her. "A kitty, huh?" He said, holding out his arm for her. "Where are you gonna put it?"

"Here!" Mayday stuck the sticker right on the tip of his nose.

You dissolved into laughter again, while Peter looked at you with an exaggerated look of suffering. "Y/N, help," he whined. "Our daughter has turned me into a walking sticker album."

"She’s an artist, Peter," you teased, wiping at your eyes. "You just don’t appreciate her vision."

Peter dramatically sighed, sitting cross-legged on the bed now, arms stretched out in defeat. "Alright, Mayday, Daddy’s all yours. Go ahead, stick ‘em all on me."

"Yay!" Mayday cheered, grabbing another packet of stickers, completely unaware of Peter’s playful exasperation.

You leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold, heart swelling with love. Peter, ever the doting dad, was now fully involved, letting Mayday stick as many stickers on him as she wanted. Despite his whining, you could see the smile tugging at his lips as Mayday giggled and concentrated on her "work."

As she placed a sparkly star on his cheek, Peter gave you a look. "This better come off," he muttered, though his tone was light, his eyes shining with affection.

You grinned, walking over to sit beside him on the bed. "Don’t worry, Daddy. If they don’t, we’ll just leave them. You’ll be the coolest dad in the park."

Peter shook his head, chuckling softly. "I’m never letting you clean while I babysit again."

"Too late," you said, leaning over to kiss his sticker-covered cheek. "You’re stuck with us."

"And apparently, with all these stickers too," he mumbled, but he was smiling now, eyes crinkling as he looked at Mayday, who was focused on her task.

You laid down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder as Mayday kept adding stickers to his arms.

Peter glanced down at you, eyes soft and warm. "You’re enjoying this a bit too much," He whispered, his voice filled with fondness.

"Every second," you whispered back, reaching up to gently peel off a sticker from his forehead. "And so are you."

Peter chuckled, leaning in to kiss the top of your head. "Yeah, I guess I am."

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[magicaldestinyharmony]

thank you friends for letting me draw your loved ones <3

for those interested, my commissions are still open <3 visit ko-fi.com/titsay/commissions to reserve a slot :)

[magicaldestinyharmony]

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refseek.com

www.worldcat.org/

link.springer.com

http://bioline.org.br/

repec.org

science.gov

pdfdrive.com

[magicaldestinyharmony]

me waiting for my favourite authors to finish publishing their fanfics knowing I haven’t been updated my own fanfics for ages:

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been pacing around my kitchen narrating fake dialogue out loud like i’m possessed. writing is a sport. the pitch is my hallway.

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no one talks about how much of writing is just whispering “does this make sense” to the void