#And while i do not remember how to pronounce it because i am TERRIBLE

[androgynealienfemme]

"Dear DOB Sisters,

For some time now I have been receiving mail from you; I feel quite close to you through your newsletter. It is much like a letter from home each month. I would love to come to the meetings and functions, but my late working hours and our two small children at home make that quite impossible to do. My wife, Michelle, and I feel we know all of you through your names and articles in the newsletter; you are truly a household word. Our neighborhood is not at all oriented to gay life, nor is there any gay socializing nearby. Most of our friends are straight, and though it's pleasant, it is not as rewarding as one letter from DOB each month. It is our only link to a chain too far away to get to. I thank you for that.

I have read so often of the heartaches and humiliations suffered in trying to make a world of people who don't understand just try to. I understand these problems very well. In this new year, we must remember all the struggles we have gone through for recognition as a wholesome, normal people. All the marches, debates, and still the terrible degradations some of us have had to endure. All of this is our reason for God's placing us here. If at one point in the year just one of the thousands of people we have encountered turns to a friend and says, "You know, I think I understand them," well, then we have made some progress haven't we?

My wife, Michelle, and I have done this, and I thought you might like to know about it.

In the beginning of 1969, we found ourselves pretty much in hot water. I had left a job in New York to live in Jersey with Michelle. She wanted to move to New Jersey and so we did. Finding an apartment was pretty rough, because I had not yet gotten settled in a job, but we did manage to eventually get into a housing project that was still nice for the kids and Michelle.

After all was settled, furniture and all, we set ourselves done to living normally again with all the chaos involved with moving - you know this is not an easy task... but it was all done rather quickly. My wife is very capable and with me taking the kids our for the afternoon, she really got the house together. When we returned, I found a home where I had left a barren apartment that echoed everything we said. Michelle had even managed to hang curtains.

We sent Lori, our oldest, out to play, and soon after she came home crying. A little girl she had bene trying to play with told her that her mother said not to play with her. After much comforting, all settled down, and we shrugged it off, because often strangers moving into a building are not welcomed right away.

Time went on and soon we found out there had never been any lesbians in this project before, nor were there any "known" lesbians in this area. Michelle and I were almost totally ignored. Michelle did have one or two who would say hello to her, but to me they wouldn't speak to. I am very pronounced in my appearance; there is not mistaking me for what I am: I am butch and Michelle loves me that way. Everything I wear she picks out for me, and she gibes me my haircuts. I am a product of her and we are content with it. Although the men and women in the building seemed to feel my appearance was a threat to them- getting on the elevator with me was out of the question- with Michelle they would hesitate and get on anyway.

I believe to this day the only thing that helped was Michelle's way with the house and the kids. She kept a spotless home, and she is an excellent mother. Slowly she would run into a woman in the Laundromat who might comment on how well behaved the children were. Each time, Michelle would run home simply elated; nothing could have been better than someone really talking to her. It was such a small thing that meant so much to me. I thought I would ask her to move, but she said she is here and she will stay whether they like it or not.

Then I decided I would take her out for a night, go into New York, be with other gay people for a while; she might feel better. Michelle asked one of the teenage girls in the building if she would sit for the children that night. The girl said no first, then said that her mother finally consented. All was fine until the day after we went out. I came home and found Michelle totally wrecked! It seems the girl went home after sitting for us and was asked by her mother if she was propositioned, molested, or asked to return when we were both home. Well, I think Michelle's heart was broken, she adores children, and teenagers to her are still babies. Michelle is from a professional family, so I believe her nice manner was inherited and would have been a lot nicer than my manner at that point. She went to talk to the mother that evening. I don't know what was said to this day, but the girl is still baby-sitting for us, no questions asked. Soon after, we were known as "pretty nice people, but don't be alone with them."

Michelle asked a woman one day if she wanted a ride to the store with her. The woman said all right as long as her husband didn't know. Each month passed until summer finally came, when the usual habit of the women in this building is to sit outside with their chairs and talk. We passed this group of sunbathers quite often, and usually the air was pretty tense or the conversations would cease. It was very heartbreaking for Michelle. She had not wanted to be a part of any gossip or coffee cloth (coffee klatch), but the complete withdrawal from her was a bit too much. My heart went out to her then, as it does whenever she does something really great, which is pretty often.

But slowly people started giving credit where it belonged. Michelle and the kids won them over whether they liked it or not. First with the children, then with our home. One day the electricity went out, and our Lori walked a man all the way up to the twelfth floor, holding his hand, because he had a heart condition; she even saw him to his floor.

Then the day came when Michelle and I were giving a party for Lori. The children were to come at one p.m. and leave at three p.m. The party lasted until eight that night. Michelle even cooked dinner for all fourteen kids. They loved it; the kids just wouldn't go home.

The next day our phone rang constantly, mothers calling asking what we did, the children never stopped talking about how wonderful Michelle and I were, how they loved us. From the mouth of babes came the answer.

Now when Michelle and I go out the door, ten kids rush to kiss her hello, and couldn't they please come with us? Even the mothers are surprised at the affection they have for Michelle, a truly wholesome and normal affection too. Today int his community they know that lesbians are not stag-film replicas or degrading. Today when they need a good meat loaf recipe or their hair done, even an interior decorator or baby-sitter, they simply call on the two lesbians who moved up to the twelfth floor two years ago.

We all have our struggles. Isn't it great when we make enough headway to walk into a restaurant and not have the waitresses huddle in a corner whispering, or walk down the theater aisle and everyone keeps watching the picture, or walk down a street unnoticed?

Love to all of you,

Joanne, Michelle, Lori, Danny"

"Dear DOB Sisters" from December 1969, a letter by Joanne, Michelle, Lori, Danny, The Persistent Desire by Joan Nestle (1992)

[vickyvicarious]

"Oh, Justine! forgive me for having for one moment distrusted you. Why did you confess? But do not mourn, my dear girl; I will every where proclaim your innocence, and force belief. Yet you must die; you, my playfellow, my companion, my more than sister. I never can survive so horrible a misfortune."

"Dear, sweet Elizabeth, do not weep. You ought to raise me with thoughts of a better life, and elevate me from the petty cares of this world of injustice and strife. Do not you, excellent friend, drive me to despair."

"I will try to comfort you; but this, I fear, is an evil too deep and poignant to admit of consolation, for there is no hope. Yet heaven bless thee, my dearest Justine, with resignation, and a confidence elevated beyond this world. Oh! how I hate its shews and mockeries! when one creature is murdered, another is immediately deprived of life in a slow torturing manner; then the executioners, their hands yet reeking with the blood of innocence, believe that they have done a great deed. They call this retribution . Hateful name! When that word is pronounced, I know greater and more horrid punishments are going to be inflicted than the gloomiest tyrant has ever invented to satiate his utmost revenge. Yet this is not consolation for you, my Justine, unless indeed that you may glory in escaping from so miserable a den. Alas! I would I were in peace with my aunt and my lovely William, escaped from a world which is hateful to me, and the visages of men which I abhor."

Justine smiled languidly. "This, dear lady, is despair, and not resignation. I must not learn the lesson that you would teach me. Talk of something else, something that will bring peace, and not increase of misery."

1818 edition

"Oh, Justine! forgive me for having for one moment distrusted you. Why did you confess? But do not mourn, my dear girl. Do not fear. I will proclaim, I will prove your innocence. I will melt the stony hearts of your enemies by my tears and prayers. You shall not die! —You, my playfellow, my companion, my sister, perish on the scaffold! No! no! I never could survive so horrible a misfortune."

Justine shook her head mournfully. "I do not fear to die," she said; "that pang is past. God raises my weakness, and gives me courage to endure the worst. I leave a sad and bitter world; and if you remember me, and think of me as one unjustly condemned, I am resigned to the fate awaiting me. Learn from me, dear lady, to submit in patience to the will of Heaven!"

1831 edition

.

This, the largest difference between the two editions this chapter (except the very end, where 1818 Elizabeth is reassured by Justine's conversation and Victor calls himself a wretch while 1831 Victor announces Justine's death immediately after her final line, then goes on for several paragraphs describing their failed entreaties on her behalf and grief afterwards - something I suspect may be folded into the start of the next chapter in the original version). And it's another very interesting edit to me in how it changes the characterization of those involved.

Starting right at the beginning, 1818 Elizabeth is already grieving and hopeless. She says she will "force belief. Yet you must die"; not believing her own assurances any longer than it takes to say them. She's getting caught up in her own grief for having lost Justine while the woman still stands in front of her. 1831 Elizabeth, in contrast, is in denial. She doesn't plan to force belief, but to beg and pray, and insists it will work because she can't bear the thought that it won't. She speaks of Justine's death as a terrible looming possibility, but not a decided fact ("I never can/could survive so horrible a misfortune." 1818/1831)

1831 Justine is resigned already. She faces her death bravely and uses the lens of religion to frame her coming execution as an end to suffering. She emphasizes submitting to the will of Heaven, echoing Elizabeth's own language of begging and praying - both are more passive in this later version.

In 1818, Elizabeth and Justine both know there truly is nothing to be done. But neither are initially resigned to it. Elizabeth is furious, going off on a long rant about the injustice of the situation despite Justine asking her for comfort. She can tell her that she hopes Justine is blessed with resignation (something 1831 Justine apparently has from the start) but Elizabeth's thoughts are constantly drawn back to the lack of hope for any saving grace, to the point that she proclaims she would prefer to die herself than to helplessly witness such men in power. Justine has to lightly scold her that this isn't helping either of them, that this is despair talking.

1818 certainly does end the chapter with Elizabeth feeling more reassured (saying "my heart is lightened" and "I am consoled" now that she knows Justine is innocent) versus the abrupt whiplash of despair in 1831 (literally going "'...be happy, and make others so.' And on the morrow Justine died."). And sure, in both versions Justine ends up being the one to comfort her friends by claiming them knowing of her innocence is enough for her. But the overall effect of this changed passage makes the 1818 version far more effective for me.

Elizabeth isn't naive or in denial. She understands the kind of world in which she lives. She knows the limits of the power she has. And her dearest friend, her "more than sister" (vs. just "sister" in 1831) is suffering for a crime she did not commit, for the murder of someone almost like her own son. Elizabeth loses it, she gets mad, she wishes she were dead, she can't offer proper consolation – it's all so much messier than the innocent denial of 1831 Elizabeth, and it brings her to life as more of a person as a result. The dialogue with Justine saying that's not comfort, try again, so vividly brings to mind a much closer relationship for me as well as a model of how they may have talked together, vs. saintly Justine of 1831. They both seem more watered down in the later version, more idealized and thus less real.

And, notably, taking away this passage greatly minimizes the emphasis on injust/inadequate systems that is so prevalent throughout the entire chapter. It's not just a lack of proof, it's people who look on Justine as being risen above her station and greedy despite that. It's an eagerness to assign and then punish otherness as monstrosity. It's the court of popular opinion in which Justine's honesty and inability to speak prettily prejudices others further against her. It's the joy of punishment, of exacting "retribution" as Elizabeth so clearly calls out - patting themselves on the back as they turn their backs on Justine's friendship, as they force a false confession out of her, as they punish someone else to feel better about themselves.

All these themes directly relate to the Creature, whose act of punishing an innocent to revenge himself on someone else will become fully apparent later. They apply to Victor too, with his immediate and proofless certainty of the Creature's guilt mirroring the general reaction to Justine. But even outside this specific instance, they resonate with the breakdown of larger communities/systems so prevalent throughout the rest of the book. Societal, school, family, and legal systems are all shown to have flaws or be generally lacking in ways that contribute to help worsen the situation or shape the kinds of people who can't help but further their own misery, with a recurring emphasis on isolation and perception.

Even/especially those people who see what is going on are powerless to change the public perception. They're left isolated with no recourse. And so we have Justine suffering with only two people who know/believe her story, Elizabeth raging at the injustice of it all, while in the very same room sits Victor privately thinking about how he's worse off because he knows even more of the story and can't tell anyone since they won't believe him, leaving him even more isolated than they are. And they all know (or think they know, in Victor's case, a perhaps self-fulfilling prophecy) they can't change the situation, can't prevent the inevitable death and suffering on the horizon. All they can do is wait... to die, to lose someone, or to spot an opportunity to seek their own retribution, thus continuing the cycle.

[stillhavetodothat]

Replaying Nancy Drew without Cheating - Part 13: Danger by Design

Aahh, yes. One of the wackiest PC games ever to make it to the threshold of public consumption (only behind a few other upcoming ND games, but more on that later). I used to think this game came out in response to the popularity of The Devil Wears Prada, another story about a woman working for an unpleasant titan of the fashion industry, but I just googled it and TDWP came out 3 weeks before Danger by Design. Unless Her has the most efficient development team in history (spoiler: they do not. Just look at the past 8 years or so), this has nothing to do with the movie. And I know that it took longer than 3 weeks to come up with this tangled web of side plots and storylines...I could never have conceived of any of it even if I had 3 years.

The game starts with Nancy getting to Minette’s windmill studio and almost getting bonked in the head by a flying plant. She is there to investigate why Minette, a famous fashion designer, is acting so ~*strangely*~ and report back to the States, where Minette’s biggest investor is just waiting impatiently to pull the plug on the cash flow. Nancy is yelled at, has to hilariously brew a cup of tea based on what Minette’s favorite color is at the moment, and runs all over Paris on errands as part of her new job. She then learns that a French Resistance fighter, Noisette, used to live in the windmill, and proceeds to spend the rest of the game learning more about that instead. It IS a more intriguing mystery, so you can’t blame her. Ultimately, after swimming in the sewers under Paris and going on about her day like everything is fine, Nancy finds Noisette’s secret under the windmill, stumbles by chance upon Minette’s secret, and blocks a couple chops from Minette, who then proceeds to pass out from exhaustion (?????)

So many of the choices here were so interesting to me. I feel like this game is chaotic evil on the scale. I also feel like some of the puzzles here are hard! I was THE CLOSEST I’VE EVER COME TO CHEATING (in this round of playthroughs) at the end when I am locked in the bottom of the windmill, and there are about 100 steps needed to decode the way outta there. What child would ever be able to solve that on her own?? I had to come back to it over multiple days. I was literally thinking about this puzzle throughout the day, like on my commute to work, while eating dinner, while going for a run. It consumed me. Eventually it came to me, after I inspected in detail every item in my inventory. 

Anyways, back to my open questions.

1. First of all, why was there only one French suspect in this entire game? Were they having trouble finding voice actors willing to put on an extremely terrible and unpracticed French accent or what? Furthermore, why did everyone pronounce Minette as “Minn-et,’ even the Parisians? I guess Paris is probably a bit of a melting pot, especially in the fashion world, but I have always been bummed by the lack of French people in this game.

2. Also, why does Nancy struggle SO hard with the one French suspect’s name, when in other games she rattles off French so perfectly that you’d think it was her native tongue? Also, she needs to look up numbers and colors in a book, but at the end of the game she is able to translate a long letter written completely in French with ease? Something isn’t adding up here.

3. Why was Heather wearing that hideous brown tie? Surely that can’t be considered fashion?

4. I actually used to wonder why Minette’s designs are so absolutely absurd, but I think they are hilarious now. Feels like we are being trolled by HerInteractive by forcing us to put together THIS outfit for Prudence Rutherford’s cruise.

5. Why does a squirrel almost sabotage the entire game for you? Additionally, HOW in god’s name is anyone supposed to figure out how to deter the squirrel from messing up your work? I ONLY was able to get past this part because I vividly remember searching the forums back in the day to figure this out.

6. Who is buying the shitty paint-by-numbers of the Mona Lisa from the guy in Pont Nouf? For more than 15 Euros, presumably? Also, I think this is the first time I’ve ever messed up one of the paintings, because I DO NOT remember the vendor completely berating Nancy on her carelessness. This guy just screams scam artist to me.

7. Why did I find the catacombs so challenging as a child? I remember sitting at my computer, furiously clicking, SHRIEKING IN FEAR as I heard the footsteps of the French policia approaching, when really getting to the entrance to the sewers involves like 2 turns from the entrance to the catacombs. This isn’t really a question about the game, it’s more a question of my intellect as a young teenager.

8. What is the rhyme or reason for the timeline of this game? Is there a hidden in-game clock that is running all day, and let’s you know when it’s too late to be out by yourself? Or is it just completely random? Either way, it makes for some hilarious timing. Minette tells me to go to the park to pick up some stuff for her, and I just go straight to bed instead. Minette tells me to take the cockroaches and release them, and I just...take the cockroaches to bed with me?? JJ is called into Minette’s studio for a fitting, and she has to stay there all night long???

10. What is going on with some of these characters’ teeth? Strong Bruce the Shark vibes here.

11. Why are the plotlines completely disjointed? It wasn’t until I played the game through this time that I took the time to really think about the story, and realize that the two parts had absolutely nothing to do with each other. Noisette and Minette, apart from both residing in the same windmill at different points in history and both having French-y ‘ette names, have literally nothing in common?? Dieter and his family history were a complete red herring to what the actual mystery was? And when you actually find the stained glass under the windmill, and you breathe a sigh of relief because it truly feels like the end...it isn’t the end at all?? because you actually haven’t solved the mystery you came to Paris to solve?? A mystery which is actually far less interesting than Noisette’s??

12. The actual ending here, once you find your way out of the windmill’s basement (and that took me a MINUTE), is bonkers. The developers had to have been tired and just trying to wrap this up stat. Putting your hand up to block Minette’s slow-motion chops for 10 straight minutes feels like something someone came up with at 3am after their fifth cup of coffee, a cigarette pinched between two fingers. And yet, it somehow really fits into the feel of the game. It has certainly brought the ND community together, because I have never heard anyone who didn’t think this was a total WTF moment.

13. WAS Minette having an affair with Sonny Joon? I just heard this theory and I am running with it. What else would explain an alien face tattoo, and her just randomly dumping Dieter? I am choosing to believe that this is the case - otherwise, there is no explanation behind why she even got the tattoo in the first place, and having this be the reason for the mask feels a bit underwhelming.

Despite the insanity of this game...it’s a fun time. It certainly holds up on a replay, because the story is convoluted and there’s no way you’ll remember from the last time you played. Also, this is when Her really starts busting out the near impossible puzzles that no young child could ever solve on his or her own (I am already dreading the picture frame puzzle in SAW because HOW will I refrain from cheating then??)

Join me as I head off to Hawaii to sort bug poop and flirt with Big Daddy Mike. CRE is maybe one of the most lowly rated games in the entire series, so naturally I am stoked to replay!

[twittercomfrnklin2001-blog]

Maestro

Remember the old Hollywood composer biographies. They had terrible, usually fraudulent scripts, but they also had rafts of guest stars showcasing the subjects’ works. Sure, you had to slog through some terrible writing, but you were rewarded by hearing Judy Garland sing or watching Gene Kelly or Ann Miller dance or catching some hot jazz from Lena Horne or Hazel Scott. The only attempt to do anything like that recently was DELOVELY (2004), which had some good musical guests (and a few clinkers; if you did to Sheryl Crow what she did to Cole Porter you’d be on death row). When Nick Blaemire and Mallory Portnow, as Adolph Green and Betty Comden, gave out with a spirited rendition of “Carried Away” from ON THE TOWN in Bradley Cooper’s MAESTRO (2023, Netflix), I kept wishing he’d made the film in that mold. Cooper is a good director, but his script, written with Josh Singer, does him a terrible disservice. It lurches through history and somehow leaves out a lot of the character motivations, while occasionally stooping to rank cliches. When Cooper’s Bernstein and his wife, Carey Mulligan as Felicia Montealegre, fight, she says his conducting comes out of hate, not love. After they’ve become estranged, she attends his performance of Mahler’s 2nd and says, “There is no hate…there is no hate in your heart.” Why? What’s changed? Is it because he’s had a few years of good loving from his assistant (Gideon Glick, who sadly comes across as just a boytoy instead of the accomplished musician Tommy Cochran was)? Or is she lying so he’ll go with her when she undergoes cancer testing? Who knows? The writing would be a lot easier to forgive, and they might have to cut some of the repetition, if they’d throw in some good numbers. Imagine Annaleigh Ashford belting out “Swing” from WONDERFUL TOWN or Isaac Powell singing “Something’s Coming” from WEST SIDE STORY or June Gable doing “I Am Easily Assimilated” from CANDIDE instead of just appearing as an in joke to ask how to pronounce Spanish she had delivered expertly in the show’s 1974 revival.

What’s harder to forgive is the way the film seems to demonize Bernstein’s sexuality. He jumps from lover Matt Bomer’s bed to courting Mulligan in what feels like a heartbeat and then heartlessly introduces the two as if they should be happy to share him. And treating Glick’s character as just his boyfriend reduces a relationship founded in respect and artistic creation to lust. I get the point that Bernstein was a hedonist who gave in to all of his appetites (Cooper rarely has a cigarette out of his mouth), but the film focuses so much on how he does his wife dirt, it probably should have been called VICTIM.

Anyway, Cooper makes some strong directorial choices when the script isn’t getting in the way. At the start, Bernstein learns he’s to conduct the New York Philharmonic for the first time — the concert that made his name — and runs jubilantly from his bedroom into the auditorium as the score to ON THE WATERFRONT plays. At the premiere of MASS, the camera pans over Bernstein’s box, with Glick, Cooper and Mulligan capturing their different reactions to the music and their personal romantic triangle. Mulligan is incandescent as Monteleagre. She lives the role so completely you may not notice how underwritten it is. Cooper tries, but in contrast, he seems just to be a voice and makeup job. He never disappears into the character. The only supporting cast members who gets any chance to register are Bomer and Sarah Silverman as Bernstein’s sister. For the rest, the film is dismally underpopulated despite having actors playing major figures in Bernstein’s life and American arts.

[kobblefort]

Rushsly: Into the Depths 4

I'm interested in this guy for some reason. He just became a Swordmaster, and he seems like kind of a dick.

Sorry for another slow update. I've been playing Cataclysm: Dark Days Ahead, easily the second greatest simulation game of all time. It took a while for me to actually get into, but as you might have already surmised, I don't particularly loathe the idea of having to study a video game in order to play it. I was trying to get back into Caves of Qud recently as well, but for some reason I just haven't quite been able to find the fun in that one as easily as I can with CDDA - I know I'm probably missing something, but it just feels a little bit too combat-focused to me, whereas CDDA feels so much more centered around its two unfathomably massive but surprisingly accessible crafting menus that just blast my brain with dopamine every time I open them, and I am the kind of pervert who gets more endorphins from "building a brazier and figuring out how to heat up a can of beans in a video game" than "blowing up a guy's head with my psychic powers." Of course, Caves of Qud is incredibly good, and I'll happily affix my seal of recommendation to it as well. Regardless, this is not a blog about either of those games (though don't be surprised if I end up sneaking a little CDDA interlude in later down the line - probably when Rushsly meets its terrible end) so let's get back to the greatest simulation game of all time Dwarf Fortress.

ALSO IF YOU WANT TO GET INTO C:DDA, DON'T BUY IT ON STEAM LOL. IT'S A FREE AND OPEN SOURCE GAME. ONLY ONE OF THE MANY DEVS EVEN GETS ANY MONEY FROM STEAM SALES AND IT'S THE EXACT SAME VERSION AS THE STABLE BRANCH WHICH IS AVAILABLE FOR FREE. I mean I guess if you already like the game and just really want to pay $20 for Steam achievements then whatever I'm not a cop, but if you're just haphazardly tossing money around like that, you should throw some at me too, because I have barely any food in my house, $3.12 to my name, and am about to run out of cigarettes.

112 new bedrooms are all but complete, and thus need a bit of smoothing and engraving so that any new migrants don't feel ripped off. So many bags have been made and so much sand has been collected that getting all the furniture made and placed took hardly any time at all, helped along by the ridiculous amount of glass doors I made early on because I hate having to worry about doors.

Bunnies are here for some reason. We don't have much to export and they probably don't have anything we want, but whatever, I can whip them up some gold crafts real quick I suppose. The first thing anyone makes is...

a little figurine of a lapine killing a kobble. Well, okay. Yeah they can have that I guess

Down below, the forgotten beast creeps a little too close to the main caverns stairwell for comfort. It shouldn't be able to get in, at least not without making a racket far enough away from the civilians, but the military heads right back to their station. A fifteen-day leave is admittedly pretty short, but...

Well, the fate of these olm men who were hiding in wait is more than enough justification to get back to work.

It seems to have quite literally burned all its fat away. I remember when I was a kid I kept trying to look up "how to do a liposuction on yourself at home" and I never got any satisfying answers, the general consensus seemed to be don't do that, why the fuck would you do that, are you insane? so I just sort of gave up. I have always been pretty fat, even when I lifted weights every day, hell there was a time when I was snorting ritalin every day and only eating a small meal once every two or three, and I still had some pronounced titties. I'm reasonably active now and still have entire weeks at a time where I only eat one meal a day, but it never seems to go away. Being teased for having fat fucking boobs as a kid was probably the origin of several fetishes that still ravage my mind to this day but it's fine. Having a girlfriend say "your boobs are bigger than mine" definitely didn't do something very weird to my brain. I'm normal and have only the normal amount of body dysmorphia that makes you see your weight written down at a physical and go "wait, is that right?" because I was expecting to be 70 pounds heavier than that, and I don't resent my skinny fuck friends with such fast metabolisms that they can eat 4 entire family-sized bags of potato chips a day and still lose weight while my body takes days on end to digest a single small bowl of salad. It's totally fine because high school is over and has been over for a long time and I didn't get to be beautiful like I wanted and that's fine. I hardly even loathe myself for my appearance anymore, I've grown into kind of a chubby Adonis whose somber beauty would stun everyone he passed on the street if he ever let down his hair. I won't, of course, because I am deeply terrified of being made an object of desire, and other weird people don't bother me at all anymore when I tie my long hair up and hide it under a hat, besides maybe a guy who's piss drunk loudly talking to himself about how he could beat everyone in this train station's ass at 11 in the morning and gets strangely entranced by the bright warm color of your sweatshirt like a fucking bull. But that's fine too. You just don't make eye contact or look his way or even give any kind of recognition that he even exists. Oops, but for some reason he walked all the way over to get on the same train car as you, even though you specifically walked away from him! Just sit down and stare out the window until you lose aggro. Pause the music in your headphones so you can hear him talk about how tough he is and watch everyone else on the entire train try just as hard as you to not acknowledge him. At one point you catch him seeing his own reflection in the mirror and talking to it like another person. Don't worry, he'll get off in just a couple stops. Why was he taking the train while sipping straight off an open bottle of liquor before noon? Where is he going? Just let these questions slip away from your mind as you unpause the album you've listened to 80 times already. You will cross paths with several hundred other people today, but this is the only one you'll remember, and his drunk ass will DEFINITELY not remember you. Does that make you feel big, or does it make you feel small?

I have kind of a ballsy plan to deal with this particular beast, and make a bulwark against future ones: digging fortifications into the caverns will let my marksbolds fire... at least somewhat safely, I hope. I'm going to find out the hard way whether it can blast fire into the fortifications, but I at least know for sure we can blast bolts out of them.

As that gets put together, we get a BIG migrant wave - 22 in all, and quite a few animals with them. I'll go inspect them later, this project is a bit nerveracking.

We'll start with just one tile - that way, if it can fire back, we at least won't have put any more civilians in harms way than we absolutely had to.

One of the newbies, Syl Destinedechoes. I'm so nervous it's starting to hurt my stomach

IT'S WORKING!!!!!!!!!

And slowly but safely, Rushsly gains its second Beast Slayer, Vala Knitpolish.

It means nothing to her. Well, I'm sure she'll feel better about it once she gets a fancy new bedroom. Oh, and a statue -

In the midst of the chaos, I decided Ace Steel's room would look even better with a statue, so I had a gold one commissioned of her chopping the forgotten beast Murlu's head off. Either way, Vala's fond of zinc, which is a metal we haven't actually used at all yet, but it's no bother at all to go crack into a couple sphalerite veins for a hero.

We can only hope it improves her outlook on life; the game lists her at the most neutral possible emotional state, "content," but her personality tab stating that "she doesn't really care about anything anymore" is kind of sad - any kobble should be overjoyed to have killed a forgotten beast. Maybe she thought the way we did it was too cheesy? Well, we'll see how she feels with a zinc-walled bedroom and a statue in her likeness.

The amount of livestock is getting pretty damn high, and I don't like keeping them up on the surface, so it's time to dig an artificial pasture underground where they can munch on floor fungus to their hearts' content - and once that's taken care of, their old pasture will be a great place to set up some siege weaponry. I've historically had shit luck with ballistas, just because the "only hits targets on the same Z level" part is a bit painful to work with, so I'm going straight for catapults instead.

It's party time again! The fortress is safe for another little while and spirits are high. Let's dig into a random assortment of the new kobbles.

I don't know if any of them will ever do anything important - I automatically like Kasa Palmgazes because he came to Rushsly already a high master miner, and the black kobbles just look cool.

I really really particularly enjoy Rias standing off to the side, watching the party, and just thinking "Merriment is worthless." He's literally one of those wojak memes. It rocks

Vala's statue is completed, and her room is finished. Just next door, Ace Steel's husband Zolr secrets away a meal from the dining room, eats it alone in the bedroom, and then complains about the lack of dining tables. He's a bastard. But he's also living the ultimate dream of "glomming on to a vastly more famous and successful wife without having to really work or anything" so, well, I can't help but put in the order for a table for him.

Bad design jumpscare lol!!!! You thought you'd seen the last of that horrible fucking floor, didn't you. Well too bad. I think it's funny and now you have to look at it again. Anyway, Kikli Shakenmarks, bored at church, decides she's going to create an artifact or at the very least go insane trying. Will she succeed? You'll have to find out on the next episode of Rushsly because I want to go back to C:DDA now. I think this is probably the end of the second arc, we've proven our mettle against the layer-1 forgotten beasts and are nigh completely self-sufficient. I'm actually pretty proud of that, usually I have at least one big weakness as far as resources/production goes and just rely on trading to fill the gap, but these kobbles really got their shit together. I'll try to think of a cool title for the next arc, but it's probably going to end up not being that cool, or if it is cool it won't actually be relevant, which will in turn diminish the coolness. Ok yeah bye

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Word Find Tag

I was tagged by @starlit-hopes-and-dreams

I have no idea which WIP to do this with, so I'll do it with all, fight me.

I am desperately trying to shovel a few of those from my drafts into my queue, so, uh, open tag.

Your words: paper, secret, read and search

My words: quick, thrill, threat, laugh, heal

Quick (Thorns)

“Oh, my grandpa loves deer!” The child’s voice was loud and excited, but quickly died down to a whisper when Aska whined, startled by the sudden noise. “Sorry, Aska. He’d love to hear that. But he’s not here now. He went to buy some new car-pen-try”—the child pronounced each syllable of that one word carefully—“tools. And he promised he’ll make me a new bed when he gets back, because I’ve grown so much! Mama, how much longer until he comes back?”

Thrill (Fancy Boots/Undeserved)

At first, Merridy had been less than thrilled about Damien’s insistence on inviting him back. She would have been glad to never see him again. A few weeks later now, she had to admit that he wasn’t such a bad guy. He could be funny, and he tried to help where he could. Besides, he cared about Damien—and that was more important than his lack of manners or her personal grudge.

He deserved a chance.

“Hey Riordan, if you broke one of—”

Threat (Glass Shards)

Not that it had been much of a choice. What else should she have done? Let Cedric kill him? No matter how much her friend had insisted that Damien was a threat, all she could see was a man without hope who had been terribly hurt. Who would have died without her help. Who could still die, if fate decided to be cruel. It was this thought that made her push the door open with trembling hands.

Laugh (Heal my Wounds)

Whatever she saw in his expression, it made her laugh. It was this laugh that cut straight through his heart. Her joy and her care and her kindness, he didn’t deserve any of it. He didn’t believe in any of it. It was a fleeting, treacherous moment, which would make it hurt all the more once she remembered what a useless piece of shit he was. What he had done to her. That there was no way for him to ever put it right.

“I think I need some fresh air,” he said, putting down the cup with trembling hands.

Heal (Nuisance)

“What are you gonna do with her?” he asked over his shoulder while soaking the rags in the sink.

Yeah. That was an excellent question. “Fuck,” Cedric said under his breath. His plan of getting rid of her as quickly as possible definitely wouldn’t work out. She needed time to heal, a place to rest and a few good meals if she should be able to at least stand on her own feet again.

“Really?” Yvan turned around, leaning back against the sink. He seemed to be done with cleaning up for now. “Didn’t think she’s your type.”

“That’s not funny,” Cedric snapped.

[beesinspace]

name change? I ask you?

I am SO glad you asked~

Well it start with a need to change the og name, I think EVERYONE in the fandom (all 12 of us lol) hates the og name, and rightfully so.

My first name change was, Cleo D'Nile, which I really liked! I then come to find out that one of the main characters in monster high is called that riiippp.

After a while, I saw @purpleskull97 's post about how ever fem Mummy character is always named after Cleopatra, I was like that's so truuuue. So I knew I wanted to do something completely different!

One of the names I looked at was Nitocris after the pharaoh, since all descriptions of her present her as female and us she/her pronouns but apparently modern historians think she may have been AMAB! But...I-I'll admit...the reason I didn't use that one is because I did comely know how to pronounce it (_ _ ") (when I looked it up all that came back was text to speech pronunciations riiipppp). Nefertiti was my next choice! (Partly because I love the nickname Nefi, partly because Nefertiti is nearly as popular at Cleopatra so I thought it was a good trade)

Next, the middle and last name. I looked up Egyptian naming conventions (anyone who is Egyptian or is of Egyptian decent please please please tell me if I'm wrong about this!!)

So if I remember correctly a name goes; |Given name| Father's Name||Grandfather's name||Last name|. With that, it got me into having to figure out Nefi's family situation, which a.) I didn't really wanna do atm and b.) Any rough ideas I'd had didn't fit the naming thing. So I ended up giving her |Given name|| Parental name|| Last name| which hopes that wasn't a terrible thing to do riipp (so her name may change again in the future lol rippp)

And finally, what the middle and last name means!!

Heru, another name for the ancient Egyptian god Horus. (them being the god linked with the sphinx is what made me choose it ;) )

Yehia, meaning God is Gracious. The person that wrote the first mummy monster book,"The Mummy!" in 1824, was Jane Wells Webb Loudon. I didn't want to shove a random British name onto my ancient Egyptian character, but found out that Jane means God is Gracious!! I was so happy when I found an Egyptian/Arabic name that ment the same thing!! XD

But yes, that is the incredibly long winded story of how I chose Nefi's name! I am honestly really happy someone asked because I really wanted to talk about how and why I got to the name that I did! Jakdhaks XD

[thegreatgaygay]

Roxy's IRL Friends and Their Les Mis Experiences

right so the context is that i have been hyperfixated on les mis for two months and am insufferable and talk about it all the time with my friends, including my really specific in-jokes with myself (javert's 46 upsetting hats that he makes himself, javer'ts hat being huge/trying to eat him, a lot of hat related stuff actually, at this point it's just to make myself laugh), all the seperate canons i maintain (1-2rp canons, 3-5 fic canons, the one where javert personally knows and really hates shadow the hedgehog) and weird fandom bullshit (the one time i saw a piece of fan art that just absolutely snatched montparnasse's waist. good art btw. but just. he was so snatched and it stuck with me). and they just put up with it. so here's the post.

i have this one friend and she saw les mis on the west end in 2017 and remembers almost none of it but the things she DOES remember include: "two different blonde ladies" and at first i was like there are only three women in this show so it narrows it down but it took some prying to discover that these were, in fact, fantine and cosette.

master of the house is only song she recalls. the only song. out of all of the songs. (it objectively slaps but yall know how i feel about stars and she does too, she's read my stars essay). she said that "those guys [the thenardiers] got another song later on for no reason" which like is technically true i guess.

also, according her, "a guy died on a barricade". yes bestie many guys died on a barricade that's like half the fucking story

and she also got a nosebleed halfway through and spend half the show with her head tilted up so she wouldn't bleed everywhere so she didn't see anything. after she told me about this i explained the full plot of Les Miserables (1978) to her because i a, autistic.

but that's it that's all she remembers from the musical. she also insisted on pronouncing javert JAV-ERT for a month just to piss me off. including while i was dressed as him for halloween. i also have a running joke of people mis pronouncing his name but it used to specifically really get to me for some reason. but like i said my friends put up with so much bullshit from me and i get to hear about fallout 4 and sonic in return, neurodivergent people are so powerful.

my OTHER friend knows the plot of les mis and the songs well enough to torment me still further. he has invented a character named Maurice who does not exist at all ever and he brings Maurice up everytime I bring up les mis at the dinner table (which is often, some would say every single day with few excpetions). he says that his "favorite part of les mis is when maurice goes in the sewer and says 'it's mauricin' time' then her maurices all over the sewer" because we decided that's where maurice lives. i hate my friends so much. love those guys.

my OTHER OTHER friend who i know irl and talk to online said to me recently that they "forgot javert wasn't a real guy" which is hilarious and also reminds me that this person has never listened to les mis or consumed any les mis related media and must have such a fucked up idea of the plot at this point oh my god. they have seen all my memes and all my weird fic stuff but just...they do not know the plot. i wonder what they think happens in les mis???????????

and furthermore, some of my friends and i have discovered that like five of us all have special interests/hyperfixations set in France or that are France related in some way, so i have made a handy graph to hekp us keep track. it's not perfect but i love graphs so much. this is what i get for meeting every single one of my friends at the special move-in day for disability services or at special ed high school. only one of us is straight and only one of us is neurotypical, but it's the same guy and we like him anyways. here's the graph, with names removed but anyways the point is i love my friends but we're all terrible autism people. i'm The Crusades, FORMERLY Hamilton and Les Miserables, if you couldn't guess.

[darkfeanix]

Feanix Reads Dragon Age Comics

#2: Those Who Speak

You can find my thoughts on the previous comic arc, The Silent Grove, here.

I'll be posting my thoughts on each series as a whole, rather then individual issues. Below the cut are all the thoughts I had while reading Those Who Speak.

Those Who Speak (I)

Did not realise that Those Who Speak and Until We Sleep are only three issues each; misremembered and thought they were six issues like The Silent Grove. I wonder what was behind that decision to treat The Silent Grove as a single arc, instead of breaking it up into two smaller arcs like the next two.

MAKER'S BLESSINGS, A NEW OUTFIT FOR ISABELA! I guess I wasn't the only one displeased by the fact she was stuck in her game outfit while the other two got upgrades. She even gets pants.

MAEVARIS TILANI! The magister herself, in the flesh. I really like that she was explicitly in a relationship with a dwarf, even if it was in the past. There aren't enough canon inter-species relationships.

(… may need to create a Rook in the future just to write a romance with her. I love her so much.)

I have no memory at all of this Lord Devon fellow. He probably isn't Claudio 2.0, but even so, I don't trust him. And Isabela certainly doesn't seem happy to be getting reacquainted with him.

I will say, I am much happier with Isabela's narration than I was with Alistair's.

Ah, that's why I don't remember Devon: Isabela knifed him when nobody else was looking. I do remember the secret he tried to hold over her head, and honestly I'm not surprised she handled it this way; we all know she doesn't take kindly to being threatened, plus she no doubt feels a lot of shame for what went down.

*le sigh* And we're back to the video game outfit. Damnit.

"I found the man who stole my father away. The man who – intentionally or not – started Ferelden on the path of civil war." Oh really Alistair? Titus was the one responsible for all that? Not anyone else? Not someone that you perhaps stabbed in the chest in the previous issue?!

Ah, and here we have the introduction of Rasaan, who will soon be making Isabela relive some of her worst traumas.

Fuck the Qunari. I imagine I'll be saying that a decent amount over the next couple of issues. (Spoiler: It turns out that I didn't.)

Those Who Speak (II)

The Qunari may be terrible, but credit where credit's due, big fan of their fashion choices.

"Enlightenment requires submission to wisdom. You will submit."

*shudders* So I'm curious; Rasaan says here that her name "indications the circumstances of [her] birth, and [her] position within the Tamassran… and would be difficult for [Isabela] to pronounce". But on the Dragon Age: The World of Thedas, vol. 2, p. 45, "Rasaan" (by way of the Qunlat page on the Dragon Age Wiki)

Rasaan means "emissary" or "chosen heir", and is the title of the Ariqun's successor. I'm curious if this is a retcon, or if Rasaan was always intended to be that, and that her telling Isabela to call her that is the same as if a real-world ambassador who is also a priest said to be addressed as "Ambassador [Name]" instead of "Father [Name]".

Varric says he's been trying to learn Qunlat while they've been waiting. With how resourceful he is (and considering Fenris is fluent), I'm surprised he never took the time to learn it while the Qunari were in Kirkwall, or even afterwards in case of situations just like this one.

Then again, this is Varric we're talking about. He probably convinced himself there never would be a situation like this, because why would he ever need to leave Kirkwall?

Okay, Sten is good in this art style. Sten in Arishok armour in this art style? Even better. It's a shame he's a true believer in the Qun, because he's such a cool character.

Lowkey very satisfying to see Sten backhand Alistair. I still have not forgiven what Alistair did to Yavana, in case that wasn't clear.

And now we come to Isabela's backstory. It's no surprise she hates the Qunari so much. She grew up surrounded by them, probably seeing people who she knew being brought under their sway, and then on top of that, her own mother basically sold her off as a child bride because she wouldn't convert to the Qun.

Also, I know I've been critical of the art before, but these two panels?

Absolute fire. Especially Isabela's expression in the second panel. She's so determined, so defiant. Gosh, I love her.

And I guess she strikes a nerve because Rasaan absolutely loses it and throws her bodily at the Qamek. I'll admit, the first time I read this, I was worried that just being that close to it was going to be mindwipe Isabela.

Those Who Speak (III)

Sten cover art big muscle I just poor simple gay.

Isabela says, "Say no to Qamek, kids!" and then straight up brains Rasaan on the floor. Interestingly, the guard says "Tamass'ra!"; I wonder if that's another aspect of her title, or if maybe the "'ra" part is an exclamation of some kind specifically expression concern.

The whole escape sequence is so badass, I can almost forgive the fact that Isabela is being shown wearing even less than normal.

Isabela to the rescue, heck yeah! And she's going back for her crew, AND she says she's giving them the option of either staying and accepting the Qun, and fighting their way out with her. This woman has grown so much and I love that for her.

The parallels of Isabela's fight with Rasaan and Alistair's fight with Sten/Arishok are so well done! Isabela fighting to prove she has overcome her past, Alistair fighting to remind Sten of the past that they shared. And both of them coming out on top and proving their points.

You thought you knew her, but you know nothing. Stick to Speaking, because you're obviously no good at Seeing.

Gosh, now I want to write Isabela fanfiction. Love her so much.

That "I'm not sure I'm Isabela any longer" feels kind of weird. I mean, I kind of see what they were going for, but it feels almost… contradictory? I don't quite know how to put it into words. And it doesn't amount to anything; she's still Isabela in the next arc, and she's still Isabela in Inquisition. Just feels like they wanted some cool line to wrap up the issue and they didn't stick the landing.

It ends with the following statement from Isabela's narrator voice:

"Once Varric got me alone, he asked if I wanted to go on -- if maybe this was more than I signed on for. I told him Alistair deserved a chance to kill Titus and find his father, and that I intended to see it through. After that? There are going to be some changes."

And this feels like the same thing as the name thing. Because the way Varric talks about her in Inquisition, and the way she's described in her Multiplayer write up, it really doesn't seem like she's changed much at all from who she is at this point in her life, except that she maybe has more people working under her.

Final Thoughts

Not many, to be honest. I feel like this was an improvement over The Silent Grove. Not perfect by any means, but an improvement. We got Mae, we got Isabela backstory, we got Isabela sticking it to the Qunari. A reasonably good time was had by me.

Since it was only three issues instead of six, I'll see if I can get through Until We Sleep tonight as well. We'll see, though.

[choshasan]

massive rant about my being semi-illeterate..

I don't get people who can learn by reading like.. it's never worked for me, my brain just gets rly fucking overwhelmed or I just wind up spacing out/side tracked every couple of words and like.. I'm a pretty slow reader as well.. I've never been able to re read myself after I wrote an eassay or anything, and with every class I failed, the problem came down to reading, my native language being french, I was in a french class with extra support for most of middle school and highschool, and I failed/came very close to failing several classes where there was a lot of reading to do, I've always been great at science, math and art, but always fell short on projects/assignements where there was a lot of text to read because I couldn't get through it.. in french and english class, if we had to read a book, I'd have to have someone read it to me, or I couldn't get through it, and most books were like 200-300 small pages at bestb, whenever we got exams where we had to read a text / extract and then answer to questions, I'd skip the reading, read the questions first and then skim through the pages of text to find the extract I needed for the answer. And it's honestly worst reading in my mother tongue, french, than in english, hell, I've found times where latin languages, such as spanish, italian and portuguese, were easier for me to read than french, and I barely know any of those 3 langauges.

My handwriting's also been terrible my entire life, obviously as a child I wrote like a child, but it slowly grew into chicken scratch that has been compared to doctor's handwriting and serial killer's handwriting. I have no idea why reading and writing is so hard for me, like.. for french I get why it takes me more time, cuz I gave up on it as soon as I learned english, finding english simpler, and most of my friends speaking english as their 1st or 2nd langauges and french as theyr 2nd/3rd, it was easier to speak with them like that, and, whenever I'm reading french, if I find a word that I have no idea how it is pronounced, I'm just sounding it out, like genuinly, if I saw Wednesday in french I'd just be like yupp. That is wed-uh-ness-day. And like, I'm not Dyslexic, I can see and read letters perfectly fine, so that's not impairing my reading at all, I just can't *focus* at all.. and it gets to be exhausting. Like, I often find myself having to re read the same lines several times. But thennn, and Idk if it's related, but I can't watch tv without subtitles. Like.. I can't hear shit. I also have this problem where like.. I don't learn from my mistakes.. like.. no matter how many times I'm told, idk if it's Convinience/Convenience, so I just resorte to calling convinience/convenience stores by the japanese "Konbini" because that I can remember. And also, I've been hammered about it to the point its become very rare, but for most of my life I've written Very as Verry, and I tend to add a lot of double letteres where there aren't cuz.. it just seems like there'd be.. I also do this thing where.. instead of learning how to write a word, I'll abv it.. like Abv, that I have no idea if it has one B or two Bs, or Comfy, because in my head it makes no sence that it's actually spelled come-for-table.. because why the fuck is the word for something that's comfy.. COME. FOR. TABLE.?! I do also get very confused about words when I hear them pronounced a way I am not used to, but do recognised the word.. like.. I've been broken since John Mulaney's Baby J came out, because he pronounces Fearal as "Fear-al" and I've alwayd said it as "Fer-al" and now idk which one's right! There's also Tom Segura saying Whilst as "whilst' when I always read it as "While-st". But anyway, back to my not being able to read propperly, I can't really read anything more than a manga or comic book, because like.. images are entertaining to my brain.. they don't even help me understand what's going on better, like, I don't have aphantasia, I can picture a book without images in my head, I just preffer images, they're concrete, I *know* thats what the character looks like, good.

But anyway, even with manga, like.. I read one chapter and then I'm like.. help me god I long for death please this was torture.., I do sometimes get lost in a story and manage to enjoy it so much I don't even realise I'm reading, it's often happened to me with very good fanfictions, and with manga/manhwa,

But I'm like literally incapable of finishing a novel on my own... I've finished, in my 18, soon 19, years of life, 1 novel on my own. It was the poison apple book "the dead end" by mimi mccoy and it took me 3 months, for refferance, I was 12 and that was a 174pages book... currently, the one novel I have gotten myself to read, is the 1st Boku No Hero Academia School Breifs, that I bougjt, not knowing they were novels, and I have read 1 chapter. I bought this book like 1 or 2 years ago? Started it I believe end of 2023, begining or 2024... we're in july..

I also am reading the delux edition of killing stalking, the first book, (rip me for buying a book that has errors and mistakes in it) and, I have made it 1 chapter in.. I have read the entire story online, but for some reason, the physical copy, I just can't... and like, I have this problem online too, I often give up on reading tublr posts that are too long, like.. I'd never read my own posts if I wasn't the one posting them.. and I preffer to read one shots rather than fanfics because fanfics tend to be too long for my brain to stay engaged, same with reading manga/mamhwa online, sometimes I can't even stay engaged for the full first chapter... and its not that I dont like it, my brain just gives up on reading..

And like, yes, I could use audio books, but those throw me off becauae the voices are always wrong to me, so I get literally grossed out by it and give up.. and even TTS fucks me up, I can't follow what it says without reading..

I also can't read if there's noise, but I can't read if there's no noise at all either.. whitenoise throws me off, ASMR as well, music just ends up with me signing / dancing, or feeling overwhelmed, and people speaking is the absolute worst because I get so thrown off and have to restart over and over again..

And like.. idk... I just can't read propperly.. I know my father isn't that great at reading / writing either because he learned to sound out words to spell them too, and never learned propper english, but he does enjoy reading as far as I've heard and can read at a pretty average pace, my brother reads pretty slow and has a bit of trouble writing because he just never learned to spell words either, but he can read well, and he somewhat enjoys it.. like.. he doesn't LOVE reading, but he doesn't dislike it, when he gets into a book, he reads it to the end.

My mother, is a slow reader, but she *loves* reading, my entire life, she's owned 100's of books, her favourite author being Mary Higgins Clark. And my mother was that kid that was always top of her class in french and english, and she even works as a translator, and has a degree in translation. (Yes, she finds great despair in her kid being so bad at reading / writing, but she does her best to find a way to interest me in it and find ways to help me, like doing word search puzzles with me, or bribing me with manga in french, english and japanese, because she knows that I'll gladly read those, she also enjoys playing those games where you have a circle with letters in it and you have to connect the letters to fill the grid with words on mobile..)

Anyway, back to what I was saying, I *am* AuDHD if that helps in anyway? Like.. ik I have a short attention span and that falls down to that, and my constant being overwhelmed and underwhelmed at the same time, but.. idk if its that that makes me unable to propperly read, or if I'm just dumb af lmao..

Anyway, all this rant was just to say, I'm trying to learn japanese, amongst other languages, and even 5 or 6 years later?? I still can't propperly speak, read or write in japanese,

And I was given books to learn korean today, from one of my brother's friend who already can speak read and write in korean, and like.. 1. My chicken scratch trenscends languages and alphabets, 2. I'm not learning shit at all and I can't get past the 1st pages of text, so I just have fun doing the caligraphy exercises entirely wrong because fuck stroke order as long as I can replicate the shape well enough that you can tell what it says and I'm not breaking my wrist, idc. But like.. the reading part breaks me..

Like to this day, I have not memorised either katakana or hiragana or hangeul, despite seeing them every single day of my life because I surround myself with japanese & korean media.. and don't get me started on Kanji, I know TWO. And those are 愛 and 月

Which is Ai (love) and Tsuki (moon) and I learned those, because I see them very often.

I know more japanese words than I can read / write, like, obviously I'm familiar with the typical anime lingo, Kawaii, sugoi, subarashi, daijobu, tatakae, boku, anata, ore, atashi, watashi, shojo, shonen, seinen, neko, inu, tori, daisuki, aishiteru, sukidesu, suika, Yandere, tsundere, ETC... and thanks for anime and japanese youtube, because that's where I've learned the most like

Midoriya taught me Midori means Green, and youtube taught me that green light is Ao (blue) light, because back in the days (...)

Kaminari taught me that's the name for lightning/thunder

Tsuyu taught me that frogs say Kero instead of Ribbit in japanese

And I can really go on, like I've learned so much from anime and youtube..

The one thing I haven't managed to learn, is sentance structure! Like..

I know that if I wanna say "I ate an apple yesterday" it would ve "apple eat", thanks to the japanese lessons I took back when there was a website I won't name that wasn't a bitch locking content away behind a paywall and was totally free :/

I also used Duolingo back in the days it wasn't shitty and didn't use AI rather than actually teaching some level of langauge and wasn't only poppular for it's semi-funny social media presence..

Uhm, anyway.. this is getting really long..

The point is in the end, I can't propperly read or write, in any language.. and idk why, maybe I'm just someone with a low learning capacity :P (am dumm)

Oh btw.. this doesn't impair my capacity to take in information btw, like.. I'm not some dumbass who half reads an article and then assumes shit from the part I read.. I just have to have someone read it out to me, but from there, I'm very capable of understanding things. (And yes, I *can* mostly, tell fake news from real news, and I check sources)

Anyway.. thanks for reading, no matter if you made it all the way through this :]

[petnews2day]

I Am My Dog’s Emotional Support Animal

New Post has been published on https://petnews2day.com/pet-news/dog-news/i-am-my-dogs-emotional-support-animal/

I Am My Dog’s Emotional Support Animal

Photo: Getty (Getty Images)

“Have you tried the Manchego?!” I desperately yelled to my husband from the floor of the hallway, where I was lying draped over our 50 pound dog, crying into the plastic cone he had around his neck to stop him from licking a horrible, unhealing wound on his paw. We would later discover the cause of this ulcerated sore to be a grass awn that had embedded itself between his toes and traveled upward through his paw, bringing with it an infection that wouldn’t respond to treatment and baffled no fewer than five different veterinarians.

Our dog, Babka, was given multiple antibiotics, anti-inflammatories, and sedatives that all had to be taken with food, and they all made him feel terrible and unwilling to eat. The more we tried to get him to take his medicine, the more anxious he grew about the medicine and eating any food that may eventually lead to being tricked into ingesting medicine. He had grown suspicious of the ground beef, ground bison, ground elk, organic cold cuts, different kibbles, kibble toppers, bone broths, and every other item we desperately added to his food to try and make it appealing. I couldn’t have told you the last time I had eaten a meal, but we were taking multiple daily trips to the grocery store scouring the aisles for anything that might be exciting for a dog to eat while panic-Googling things like “Do dogs like Chef Boyardee?” and “Pop Tarts lethal for dogs?” His favorite food in the entire world, besides the crotch of anything I have ever worn, is cheddar cheese, and he had just turned away a handful of it to go sulk in the corner. That was almost my breaking point.

Then I remembered that we still had a wedge of overpriced Manchego in the fridge. (Once during the pandemic, the owner of our neighborhood cheese shop told me without making eye contact that I had “decent taste in cheese,” and it was the first compliment I’d gotten from a stranger in 18 months, so I kept going back and buying things I couldn’t afford or pronounce.) The Manchego was our last bastion. We cut off a small piece and offered it to Babka. He nosed it a little, just to release the aroma compounds before deciding whether or not to send it back to the kitchen, and then happily munched away at it and looked up for more. I buried my face in his fluffy shoulder and cried tears of relief. We could at least get enough food in his stomach to give him his medicine. This was the start of what we now speak of with great reverence as the Manchego Era.

If this sounds over the top, it’s because it is. I had dreamed of getting a dog for over a decade, and after seeing countless people I know adopt one and report back on how it had decreased their anxiety and depression and greatly improved their quality of life, I decided I could really benefit from an emotional support animal, too. What I didn’t account for is who I would be as a dog owner and who this dog would be as its own fully-formed sentient being. It turns out I am a medium anxious person and high-key anxious dog owner who now owns an even higher-key anxious dog. On day one, I held him as an eight week old puppy in the car ride home and looked down at him nervous/motion-sickness vomiting into my lap and thought, I’m so glad you’re here. I have years of human anxiety that I’m going to unload on you. And I like to think that in that moment he looked up at me, smirking, and thought, Lady, you have no idea how badly I’m going to fuck up your whole existence. We’ve been inseparable ever since.

What do you do if the dog you adopted as an emotional support animal for you in fact requires an emotional support animal himself? Are you, as a human, ready for that role reversal? Are you comfortable putting a little vest and harness on yourself that reads, “Do not pet me, I am working,” when you and your dog are outside together? Because that’s what we got: a neurotic, extremely sensitive, complicated little guy that needs constant reassurance and comfort to assuage his many, many fears. Same, buddy, same.

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I have had numerous trusted dog trainers tell me that my anxiety will manifest anxiety in my dog, and that is some wild shit to tell an anxious person. But what we imagine something to be and the reality of what it actually turns out to be is often where the best, most humbling lessons are hiding. Admittedly, I was entering into this relationship with expectations about what this animal could do for me; now I find myself prioritizing his comfort and emotional needs before mine. And while this dog has not decreased any of my own anxiety even one iota, this at least feels like a more grounded and purposeful life than I lived before him.

[redafi]

sometimes you just have to chug water like itll wash away your mistakes

[ellana-ravenwood]

“You’re not my real mom !” - Batkids x Fem!Reader (Batmom)

Synopsis : A story about those few dreaded words : “You’re not my real mom”, said by the batkids, to you, in a the heat of a moment. And the aftermath of it all... 

This has been in my draft for ages. I hope you like it :) : 

my masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

DICK 

It happened so fast. In a quick moment of anger. 

A flash, a bang, words said too quickly to truly realize their meaning. 

Dick was frustrated because he felt you didn’t understand him, his point of view. And you were trying to explain to him that it was not okay to...

You know what ? 

You couldn’t even remember what he did. As if whatever it was, it was all wiped out of your memory when he pronounced those bone chilling words. 

You only remembered you were “scolding” him, just like parents do when their child did something he wasn’t supposed to. You rarely told Dick off, even when he would burst into fits of anger. 

You always told him : “When you came into my life, you changed everything. And I love all of you little bird. Not just when you’re joking around and smiling. But also when you get angry, and lash out. You are my son, I love all of you.” 

And you meant it. Often, you or Bruce would take the brunt of his anger, without batting an eye. After all, that child went through a lot. It was totally normal for him to lash out at times. 

He saw his parents died right in front of him. It wasn’t a trauma that would be solved that fast (Bruce was proof of it). “The magic of love” couldn't simply cure someone who was so deeply hurt. Although it helped, over time. 

Yes. Time. 

It would take time, and support, for Dick to heal. And you were here for it. Here for him. 

But there were times, you had to say something. 

Usually, it was when he was being too reckless. 

Your son could be overzealous, and go too far. And you were so worried about his safety and wellbeing...Very rarely, you’d have to “scold” him. 

And you couldn’t even remember what you were lecturing him about that evening (even if you had an idea it was about being a little more careful). All you remembered was...

“You’re not even my real mom ! You can’t tell me anything !” 

And him turning away from you, crossing his arms and refusing to look your way. Which was good anyway, because you were an instant mess. 

“Ok”, you managed to say, wondering how the hell you were able to get the words out. And then you left. Feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. And your heart slowly breaking. 

Bruce found you two later, both clearly feeling down... 

Dick stayed quiet the entire time they were on patrol, and Bruce instantly knew something was wrong. He wasn’t there during your fight, and he only arrived when you were already gone, surprised that you went to bed so early in the night, and didn’t stay with your son downstairs until it was time for patrol... 

The man didn’t push the boy, waiting for him to open up if he wanted to. And as usual, Dick did finally speak up. In a weak voice, as they were surveying the city from a rooftop, he said :

“I told her she wasn’t my real mom...” 

“Ah.” 

Bruce felt the urge to go back home and console you, knowing that you were certainly a mess, right now. But he had to take care of his boy, too. 

And oh, oh Dick looked so crestfallen and sad as the meaning of his words slowly etched into his mind. 

“I told her she wasn’t-she wasn’t-but she is I just-I-I don’t know why I said that-I...” 

The little one was on the verge of tears, and Bruce understood why. 

He probably understood more than anyone else. 

He told Alfred “You’re not my dad !” more than once, and remembered how even the stoic butler looked, whenever he said it. 

He remembered the hurt in his eyes, the resignation too. The “very well sir”, said in a neutral manner, but the stiff way he’d left the room. 

It took Bruce a while, to finally realize that Alfred WAS his father. That he raised him, most definitely. And was always there for him during the hard times. 

That he even helped and supported him, when he came back after disappearing for years, saying : “I’m going to dress up as a bat and wipe crimes from Gotham”. ...How many parents would be that understanding, eh ? 

Alfred knew Bruce. And always tried to do his best for him. So whenever Bruce would yell at him that he “wasn’t his father”, it hurt. 

Bruce knew it. He noticed how Alfred’s entire demeanor would change. He’d see a light go out in his eyes. 

“Very well, sir.”, a small bow, and the stiffness of his body as he left...

And Bruce remembered. 

The guilt and the pain he felt himself, as he regretted ever saying those words. As he knew they were going to hurt, which is why he said them in the first place.

It wasn’t that he wanted to hurt his adopted father, oh no. It was that sometimes he just...He just felt so angry ! Like everything was unfair ! And he missed his parents so much ! 

It was a force stronger than him, he wanted Alfred to leave him alone, and pushed him away...”You’re not my dad !”. So yes. Bruce understood little Dickie. He understood you, too. He knew how you must’ve felt, he saw it enough happening to Alfred. 

Once you’d get home, he would take care of you. But right now, he had to care for his son. 

Right here, on one of Gotham’s rooftop, the scary and mighty Batman slowly kneeled down, and took his boy in his arms, holding him tightly. 

Dick didn’t need more to throw his arms around his father’s shoulders, and hold him strongly too, with all his nine years old strength, sobbing slowly. 

Bruce drew soothing circles on his back, and whispered : 

“It’s ok, it’s going to be ok. It’s ok. Calm down, things are going to be ok.” 

Your husband lost count of the time passing. Were they there, holding each others while Dick was sobbing uncontrollably, for ten minutes, or for ten hours ? He didn’t know. And he didn’t budge.  

His son needed him. Just like once, he needed Alfred... 

Dick fell asleep in his arms, and that night, Bruce came home early. 

Not like he was going to stay out anyway, knowing you were probably devastated, all alone in your room... 

************

Dick fell into a deep sleep, and didn’t budge one bit even as Bruce came down the building, rode home, and put him into bed. 

Bruce’s guess was that all the pent up feelings truly exhausted him. Also, he knew that crying could be tiring. And freeing, in a way. 

Putting the boy’s blanket all the way up to his chin, Bruce laid a kiss on his forehead and then rushed to your shared bedroom... 

You had cried too, but you were not asleep. 

Your eyes were puffy and red, and your cheeks marked with your tears. You seemed surprised, when he came in, and looked at the clock. 

It was only midnight ? 

“Hello, my love.” 

He sat down next to you, and from the way he ran his fingers through your hair, and caressed your cheek, wiping the salty tears from it...You knew he knew.

He knew how devastated you felt. How those simple words that would mean nothing for many, truly wounded you. 

He knew how much you loved that boy, how as soon as your eyes laid on his little face that terrible night he lost his parents, you felt like he was going to be your son one day. 

He knew how much you’d sacrifice for that kid’s happiness, how far you’d go to keep him safe...And so, how hurtful him telling you you weren’t his real mother must’ve felt.  

There was no need for words. 

He knew what to do. He laid next to you, and you just cuddled up to him, letting him wrap you up in his warm embrace. 

He drew those same soothing circles on your back than he did on Dick’s. And whispered : 

“He didn’t mean it. He truly didn’t. He loves you, you know. I love you too.” 

You fell asleep to his words of love and reassurance, finally letting go after hours of not being able to sleep, reenacting the terrible scene in your head over and over again, making yourself feel worst each times. 

************

You woke up around 4 am, with Bruce’s arms wrapped around you.  

He was asleep and escaping his grasp (without Alfred’s help) took you a little bit..but you managed to leave without waking him up. 

He did groan a little at the loss of your warmth, and grabbed your pillow to hold it against his chest. Which was extremely cute, and oh how glad you were to be the only one to see this side of him. 

You went down to the kitchen and... 

Dick was coming from the other door, opposite to the one you took.

The kitchen had three access. Two doors facing each others, and one on the third wall. The door you took was because you got a little lost and did a detour through the drawing room. Dick, however, came from the door you should’ve come from too, which was the one you accessed from the West Wing third corridors, which was directly under your bedroom, and Dick’s. 

The boy probably stood up a little after you, and while you got lost in your own home (again), he took the normal way and...

Boom. Here you both were, arriving in the kitchen at the same time. 

There was a small silence. Awkward. And...

Your heart tightened. 

Dick was sort of cowering backward in fear. Fear of what ? 

Oh. But of course. 

“He didn’t mean it.” 

Bruce whispered to you many times, before you fell asleep. And the way Dick looked at you, worry in his eyes...He was thinking you were mad at him. And the regret in his pupils was as obvious as that fact. 

“Ice cream ?” 

You ask him. His eyes widen a bit, and you can almost see the gears in his brain trying to piece everything together. You’re...not mad at him ? 

Of course you’re not. You felt sad, and lost, and hurt, yes. But never did you feel any hint of anger. Of course not. 

You take out his favorite flavor from the freezer, and settle a bowl in front of one of the high stool around the counter. 

At that time, Dick was so tiny. A very short little bean. And he’d stay small for a long time, only having a sudden spurt when he was around fifteen. 

He climbed onto the stool, and watched you as you gave him some ice cream and a spoon, and then sat down next to him to eat some as well. 

The silent was slowly turning less awkward. 

Slowly, and unsurely, Dick picked his spoon up and looked at you. And completely missed his mouth, the ice cream spreading on his cheek instead. 

You turn around to look at him, ice cream on his cheek, and he’s clearly embarrassed, as a tint of color slowly rises on his face. 

You don’t really know why, but something snaps in you and you start laughing. And laughing. And laughing. 

Because honestly, the kid missing his mouth as he picked his spoon up full of ice cream, is kinda funny right ? And also, all the tension and stress you felt suddenly broke with this simple, silly thing. 

Unsure at first, Dick just looked at you. But your laughter quickly spread to him, and soon enough, you both were bursting out in laughter. 

Anyone not knowing what happened, would probably think you were both crazy, laughing that hard for no apparent reasons. 

Instinctually, you ruffle his hair and Dick gasps. You really weren’t mad at him ?!

You realized what you did, and slowly, both your laughter subsided. There was a small silence as Dick stared at you, and you stared back, and then : 

“I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it !” 

He says in a small voice, and he can’t add anything else as you just pick him up and hold him tight against your heart, and you say : 

“I know.” 

And it’s all he needs to realize you’re not really mad at him, and although he messed up and hurt you, right now, you were both on the path of recovery... 

Next morning, Bruce woke up alone in bed, which greatly distressed him as usual (he often woke up first). But a gut feeling was telling him that...

He found you asleep with Dick in his bed, holding him tightly. 

************

After that event, you sat down with him, so you could have a serious talk about the underlining issue this raised. Talk about something important. 

“Little bird, you know I love you, right ?” 

He nods, but still cannot speak quite yet, doesn’t have the energy to. 

“I want you to understand something. Something vital. Are you listening ?” 

He nods again, his eyes fixed on you. And he’s listening, oh he definitely is. 

“It’s ok to be angry. It’s ok to lash out. It’s ok to not be alright. It’s ok to make mistakes.” 

He nods, a little slower than before, and you can see his eyes slowly becoming wetter and wetter. 

“It’s ok. It really is. I’m here. And I love you. Even when you don’t want me around. Even when you push me away. I’m here. And I always will be. Ok ?” 

He nods one last time, unable to hold his tears, and then his little arms latch around you, and he refuses to let go for well over an hour...

Oh. Sweet, sweet boy. 

Your son. 

************

Even now, at age twenty seven, Dick still often think about this day. And the regrets are as burning as they were back then. 

He often thought about it. 

Whenever you did something for him, went out of your way to make him happy, or were just there for him, always...

He’d have a flashback of this day, and feel nothing but regret and anger at his younger self. 

And then you’d read him like an open book. Know exactly what he was thinking, and would slowly shake your head, and say : “I know I often said that, but I will say it till the day I die if I need to :  when you came into my life, you changed everything. And I love all of you little bird. Not just when you’re joking around and smiling. But also when you get angry, and lash out. You are my son. I love all of you. Even when you’re a little bit of a jerk.” and you’d wink at him, making him chuckle and feel a surge of affection toward you. 

Kind of like the ones you’d feel sometimes. A sudden urge to hug your family, to tell them what they mean to you. Both you and Dick understood since a long time that with the life you all lead, you never knew what could happen, and should never waste a “I love you” if you felt like saying it. 

Well, the apple never fall far from the tree ? 

Yes. Because you were his mom. And nothing would ever change his mind on that. Ever. 

JASON 

"Well Jason, you did it you idiot !” 

He says to himself in the mirror, and oh he could’ve punch himself if it was possible. He took his desk chair, and threw it across his bedroom, letting out a scream of frustration. 

He went to his desk, and threw everything that was on it on the floor. He then went to his book shelves and...

There. Your book. The one you wrote for him. 

Jason fell to his knee, holding his head in his hands, crying softly. 

Yes. Yes he did it...He ruined this one chance life gave him to have parents. 

He hurt one of the person that meant the most to him, one of the person he loved the most...His mom. You. 

Because you were his mom, no matter what he told you, in that moment of anger as you scolded him after he did something dangerous during one of his patrol. 

He hadn’t been allowed to go out for long, by then. And Bruce had already scolded him before for the very same thing, so when you did it too, he had enough and...it happened before he could think about it. 

He was angry, about the lack of trust and about the sermons, and his brain tried to hurt without even thinking about it. Triggered by years of living in the streets, where he had to think quick and act right away, and then suffer the consequences. If he wasn’t fast enough, it could be the end of him... 

A gut reaction triggered by years of being all on his own, having to fend for himself. His brain went into overdrive, “hurt” is what it set into motion. 

“You’re not my mom !” 

And that was it...

As he saw your face fell, and his father’s face turn angry, he knew. He knew he messed up. He messed everything up, as usual !

“Jason !” 

Bruce called, but Jason wasn’t about to stop. He ran out of the cave, right to his bedroom. Oh, oh but if only he stayed a little longer. He’d realize that his father wasn’t angry, just hurt as well. 

Hurt to see the woman he loved being hurt. 

Not angry. Ah but being in pain could sometimes look like you are mad ? And Bruce hadn't been able to hide his frown as he heard Jason’s words... 

“Let him be, Bruce.” 

You say in a weak voice. You knew Jason, you knew sometimes he needed to cool down on his own. That he could be impulsive, but always came around. 

Ah. But that time, he needed everything but to be alone. 

Because, as he thought he ruined his one chance at having a real family, he thought... 

“Better to leave before they throw me away !” 

He knew he could never bear to face you and Bruce, as you’d certainly tell him you were “un-adopting” him. Jason saw it happened before. Someone thinking their adopted kid was “too much”, and sending them back. 

It was awful, of course. But it happened. For real. And Jason knew that life could really suck...But her couldn’t bear to face you as you’d send him away. 

Worst, what if you just send Alfred and that was it ?

No. Jason would leave before you could do that. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t. 

Filling his backpack with some clothes, and snacks, he opened his window and slid down the gutter all the way to the ground, and then ran away into the night. Tears trailing down behind him, as he left behind the one place in which he ever felt safe, warm, and loved. 

In the meantime, you and Bruce were unaware of that, and slowly falling asleep in each others’ arms... As usual, Bruce was there for you. 

************

“Jason ? I thought I wouldn’t see you anymore after you got adopted by dem fancy fellas. Are you here to get some work ?” 

“No.” 

“Really, why did you come then ?” 

“I didn’t, I’m just passing by.” 

“Nah, don’t believe it. Once a bad boy, always a bad boy !” 

“TAKE IT BACK !” 

As he ran away, Jason went back to a place he thought he never would need to. A few intricate alleys, in the Bowery, under the main city. 

The Bowery, a filthy underground neighborhood, hell on Earth for many. Although things did improve when Batman started his work a few years back. 

“Wow there tiger, relax.” 

Jason came in this specific area for only one thing. Retrieve a few items he left behind, thinking he would never need it again because he was leaving behind this life. 

He had a hideout, not far. In which he hid some materials to survive in the streets. He thought he probably had to go back to stealing cars’ tires...Although maybe he should change it. Thinking of what happened last time he did this hurt his heart. 

He knew that next time he’d get caught stealing tires, the person wouldn’t end up adopting him...Anyway, he didn’t want any other parents but you and Bruce. 

And he messed that up so bad, by being so mean to you ! 

“Listen, it’s not because you got all fancy schmancy that you can talk to me like that. Remember who’s boss in this part of town.” 

Batman did a lot of good to the city, but also, by getting rid of some big players in the “crime business”, he allowed small time thugs to climb up the ladders...It felt, at times, like there always was someone to replace whoever Bruce just put behind bars... 

The man who was talking to Jason, used to be a small time criminal. Turned boss, when the Batman kept arresting all the people above him. Jason used to “work” for him, bringing him watches or jewelry that he’d exchange against cash. 

Damn. He never thought he’d ever see him again... Oh and he definitely didn’t think this through. 

As the new boss, who’s name was Johnny Clancy, told him that he’d forever be a “bad boy”, Jason saw red and...getting mad at a crime boss was a bad idea. 

Before he could even think about an escape plan, Jason was surrounded by dangerous armed men. 

“How dare you talk to me like that ? Mmm. The Waynes adopted you right ? Mmm. They’re loaded. Probably would pay a fortune to get you back uh ? And to think they’re gonna give me a lot of cash to get a little runaway brat back haha. Because that’s what you did right ? You ran away ? As you always did before mm ? You know, I observed you Jason Todd. I saw you run away from anyone getting close. I saw you.” 

Jason’s heart didn’t need anyone to push and squiggle the knife he felt in around some more. He had just lost his family. Did he need more reminder that he always fucked up ?! 

“They won’t give you any money, they don’t want me anymore...” 

But Johnny didn’t believe him, of course. He told two of his thugs to grab the boy, but Jason, by instinct, dropped them to the floor with a few well placed kicks and punches. 

And that was enough to unleash Johnny Clancy’s wrath.

See, he was a new boss. He had to assert dominance. And an eight years old kid making a fool of him and his gang ? That wouldn’t go. 

So what if he had to off a child ? Anything to keep climbing up, and leave the Bowery’s slums. 

************

“Have you seen Jason ?” 

Bruce asks you, a few hours after your fight with him. 

“What ? No, I thought he was with you ?”

“No, he skipped his training and I thought he might be with you, apologizing for what he said yesterday ? You know, sounds like something he would do.” 

“I haven’t seen him since, you know. I thought he was avoiding me...” 

“He would never.” 

“Bruce...” 

“He would never, my love. I know what he said hurt you, but I’m sure he’s regretting it right now. You should go see him, he’s probably sulking in his bedroom. I wouldn’t be surprised if you meet him up the stairs as he comes down to say sorry.” 

“Bruce...” 

Your husband comes to you, and takes your hands in his. 

“You know him. He’s impulsive, and a little abrasive sometimes. But he’s a sweet child. And he regrets his bursts, you know it. Tonight was just tough, we both scolded him, he’s not used to it.” 

“You’re right.” 

“Of course I am, I’m-”

“I swear to God if you say “I’m Batman” I’m going to smack you.” 

Bruce smiles softly at you, glad he managed to at least made the tension go away a little. He pecks your lips quickly, and watches you as you leave to go to your son’s bedroom. 

He was about to go down the Batcave, when you came back, panicked : 

“He’s gone ! Jason’s gone !” 

Ah. Bruce knew that placing a tracker in his children’s molars was a good idea. 

************

“HOW HARD IS IT TO CATCH A FUCKING KID ?!” 

Jason runs as fast as he can, without looking back. He managed to break the line of thugs coming at him, and escape in-between to of them who didn’t pull their guns out quite yet. 

They were shooting at him. With no hesitation. 

Johnny was set on proving he was an unscrupulous boss. To earn everyone’s respect. So what if he had to shoot a kid ? It’d send everyone a message. He’d back off from nothing ! 

Jason turned in an alley and...Damn it ! He must’ve taken a wrong turn at some point, it had been a while, since he roamed the Bowery’s alleyways...

He was faced by a wall, stuck. And they quickly caught up to him. 

“Wooouh, you’re fast kid. And you’re sneaky. Too bad you’re such a brat, I bet you could be a nice addition to our-”

Johnny Clancy never finished his sentence. In fact, he never could properly speak after that night. After getting his jaw broken into a thousand pieces by the Batman’s fist. 

Bruce had come down from nowhere, with...you in his arms ?! 

This was the first time Jason saw you wear the costume he saw a few times in the Batcave. He thought you wore it only to go to the JLA’s watchtower, to hide your identity. Not that you could actually...fight ?! 

And wow, you definitely could hold your own ! You made a few disarming pass, taking the guns away from all the men before they could even react, and letting Bruce finish them off with well placed kicks and punches. 

Oh and that night, the Batman unleashed his rage and unforgiveness full force. How dare they touch his son ?! 

You didn’t have anything to envy from your husband either, however, as you worked through Johnny’s gang rather fast too. 

That night, the both of you exterminated (figure of speech, of course, neither of you ever killed, that was the one big rule...but there were never a rule against breaking a few bones) Johnny Clancy’s gang, who dared to even think of hurting your precious son. 

Jason, holding his backpack tight against him, couldn’t believe his eyes. You two came to save him ? But...why ? 

He messed up. You’d surely not want him around anymore ! 

Once Bruce dropped the last man, you rushed to Jason and before he could utter a sound, took him in your arms. 

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re safe baby, I’m so glad you’re...” 

Your voice broke at the end, and you chocked, the emotions too strong and squeezing your throat. 

Jason didn’t understand. And through his surprise, he managed to say : 

“I thought-I thought you’d never want to see me again, and that you wouldn’t want to be my mom anymore.” 

You hold him even tighter, as you feel Bruce get down on his knee and bring the both of you in his arms. 

“Oh sweety, never. Never.” 

You say, not letting go. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...” 

Your son manage to choke out, before sobbing profusely and holding on to you and Bruce. 

“I’m just glad you’re safe...it’s ok, it’s ok it’s already forgotten...” 

And it was. As soon as you saw that Jason-That your SON, was missing, you forgot he ever told you “you’re not my mom”. You forgot and it truly didn’t matter anymore, as all you cared about was to find him, and make sure he was safe. 

“Jason, oh my little Jason, I’m so glad you’re safe...”

Wether it is a conscious things or not, he returns your embrace fiercely, holding tightly as he looks up at you. It almost feels like he wants to make sure you really are there. And won’t go anywhere. Like everyone else did in his life. 

Jason was tired of losing those close to him. Those he cared about. Sometimes, he’d push them away, by fear of getting attached again just for life to rip them away from him. So he held onto you, as you held him back. 

Tightly against your heart. 

“Mom...” 

This was the day Jason Todd realized something very important : He wasn’t alone anymore. He had parents who loved him, and he loved them back. 

So much. 

And they’d never let him go. Never. 

************

Years later, this love he had for you and Bruce, turned out to be the very reason he became “Red Hood”. 

From that day he told you : “you’re not my real mom !”, he felt like he belonged. Like finally, the people he loved loved him back. Like he was cherished. And then Bruce didn’t avenge him. He let Joker get away. And you let him do it. You, the people he trusted and loved most in the world, betrayed him...

He felt like he wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth Bruce breaking his one rule to avenge him. He wasn’t worth it...He didn’t matter enough. 

Jason felt so angry. For years. He wanted to hurt you, to hurt Bruce. To show you what it felt like. What HE felt like. 

But Jason has always been a strong one. You knew it. You told him enough times : “you’re a fighter, my Jason. You went through so much, and always came out of it. You lost a lot on the way my little one, but you never give up. You never give up...” 

You never give up. 

Love. 

It’s what drove him to become the Red Hood. It’s what drove him over the edge. What gave him so much pain. 

Rather, the feeling of not being loved. The thought all you and Bruce said to him, about how much you cared and loved him, was a lie. 

Yes. The thought that you lied about loving him, is what broke him. What made him find every way possible to truly, truly hurt you two.

You never give up. 

He was so angry. But he never could quite give up on his family...that’s why he didn’t stay with the Al’ghuls. That why they didn’t keep him. 

He could never forget you and Bruce. Move on. 

He could never. 

Jason was a strong lad. Strong enough to see past his hate and need of revenge. His pain. His deep trauma. 

It took a while. But the change came from him. He’s the one that gave you another chance. And it allowed him to realize...nothing was a lie.

And you got your son back.

Because you showed him. You showed him nothing was a lie.

When his dad never gave up on him even as he killed more and more people, and even as Jason saw him completely erase people who used to be close from him as soon as they killed once. When you refused to let him go. When Bruce kept going back, even as he knew Jason would fight him and try to hurt him. When you pleaded with him, even when you knew his answer would be the same... 

Jason never gave up. 

But you didn’t either. 

“You’re not my mom”, are words he never meant. Not even once. Not even when he was the “old” Red Hood, the one that killed mercilessly any criminals, and that was trying to be exactly what Batman wasn’t. 

“You’re not my mom”, even at his worst, at a time he suffered greatly, Jason never meant it. He never did. 

And ultimately, it’s this filial love, and the love you and Bruce had for him, that brought him back out of the dark pit the Joker pushed him in...

TIM 

Tim knew that his overly pragmatic mind sometimes could make him sound tactless. That he had trouble, sometimes, expressing himself properly. 

He knew that what he said, although it could be the factual truth, could be perceived as not being very nice... 

He knew, yet sometimes, he couldn’t help himself. 

“But you’re not my mom.” 

He told you that day, as you asked when was the “mother/child day” at school. 

Tim’s school had a day each year, during which every mother would come and do different activities with their kids. You did it with Dick and Jason, and it was always great fun, and amazing bonding time. 

By then, Tim had been with you and Bruce for over a year now. And he did, see you as his mom. However, he was a little too set, at the time, on rules and specifics. In the “mother/child day” rulebook, it “specifically” said that the actual child’s mother had to come, not the nanny or anyone else. 

In Tim’s mind, although he did see you as his mom, he thought the school wouldn’t. For him, the way the rules were written, were clearly stating his birth mother had to come. And the official adoption papers were not processed yet. Those took quite a while. 

He had been living with you for over a year. He called you and Bruce “mom and dad”. He truly considered you two his parents. But the official papers were not done quite yet. So to him, in the eye of the law (be it a silly school rule), you weren’t his mom quite yet. 

So when he said : “but you’re not my mom”, that’s what he meant. Of course, you misunderstood...

How could you guess that Tim was thinking that only his “birth mother” could take him, because officially right now he didn’t have a mom, just “guardians”...

His mother was dead. Has been dead for a while, now. And even if she wasn’t, Tim knew she’d never come at this event...She wasn’t the caring type of mother. Not like you. Which is why it really bummed him out that those rules were so clearly stated like that !

What Tim misunderstood, is that this specific rule had been added to the rulebook because many family would send their nanny, or a big sister, instead of the mom. Because Tim was of course in Gotham’s Academy, full of rich families, in which the moms were very busy...

Which is why such a day existed. Some kids spend quality times with their mom only on this school day. Nowadays, everyone made an effort to come (the fact you appeared, the famed (Y/N) Wayne, a few years back, with Dick, and it made all the papers’ headlines, might’ve influenced others to participate too).

To tell the truth, Tim was very disappointed that you couldn’t go with him, and was considering asking the principle of the school to do an exception to the rule and allow you to go with him.  

He was already fomenting a plan in his head to convince the headmaster to let you come as his mom, and as usual when he was planning things out, he completely disconnected from reality. 

And therefor, didn’t see how your face “closed”, and your eyes turned sad. The boy was typing away on his computer, as if nothing had just happened, as if you didn’t feel your world crumble as he flat out told you you weren’t his mom...

Of course, it was all a misunderstanding. He meant it as “officially”. Not about his actual feelings. 

For some reason, the way he said it so nonchalantly hurts you more than when Dick and Jason yelled at you that you “weren't their mom”. Because at least, in your eldests’ cases, you knew it was in the heat of the moment. 

That it was because they felt frustrated and sad. 

But Tim just told you : “But you’re not my mom.” matter of factly, and moved on. And it hurt. 

It hurt so much, because that boy...You loved that boy, of course. And considered him your son for sure. Part of your heart, now. Part of your family. And he felt so far, right now...so far... 

You left the room and he didn’t even notice. 

Did he really not see you as his mom ? Was he just calling you “mom” to imitate his brothers ? ...You didn’t know, but it hurt. 

It hurt so much. 

************

You found Bruce in his office, doing some paperworks for Wayne Inc. When he saw your face, he immediately smiled, your presence lighting his whole world...But then he saw your expression, and he frowned. 

“What happened ?” 

************

“Mom ? MooOOooom ?” 

Tim had been looking for you for the past hour, but wasn’t able to find you. You weren't in all your favorite places ! Did you leave the Manor without telling him ? It was unlike you. 

Finally, he found you. You were in a room that was rarely used, but which was conveniently close to Bruce’s office, and had a couch. 

Laying on top of your husband, you were fast asleep as Bruce was going through his paperworks, letting you holding onto his waist as he kept working. 

When he saw the boy come in the room, he smiled at him. And it was hard, not to smile at Tim, seeing his own big wide smile. 

Tim was missing a few teeth, that fell not long ago, and it was absolutely the cutest, when he smiled widely. He looked so happy, eyes sparkly and genuine smile. It felt wrong to Bruce, to think that this sweet boy didn’t see you as his mom...

Maybe it was all a misunderstanding ? Wouldn’t be the first time. Although, Bruce knew how sometimes Tim could be brutally honest, and say the facts in a matter of factly way that could be very harsh on the uninitiated. 

Your son was holding a cardboard sheet almost as big as him, and looked very excited about something. He slowly approached you two, and said, whispering, yet the excitement was clear in his voice : 

“Has she been asleep for long, dad ?!” 

He called Bruce dad. Without an hesitation. And it felt so genuine. Like he was relishing in the word rolling off of his tongue. And it was often the case, with Tim. His parents, when they were still alive, never really noticed his presence... 

And sometimes, it could be even worst to have parents who acted as if you didn’t exist, than caring parents who passed away. Bruce realized this. 

“No, she just closed her eyes.” 

Bruce answers, looking at you. And oh he couldn’t possibly know how soft his expressions as as he gazed at your sleeping face. 

“Oh...” 

Tim was clearly disappointed. His shoulders fell down, and he looked on the floor, looking defeated.

“What is it, champ ?” 

“Well, I wanted her to-Oh ! Mom !” 

The rumbling of your husband’s chest as he spoke is what woke you up. Not the actual sound of their voices, just that low vibrations reverberating in his chest. 

You opened one eye, then the second, and was greeted by your youngest son’s face being very close to you. As Tim saw you were waking up, he kneeled down next to the couch, settling his piece of cardboard next to him, and approached you very closely. 

His smile and sweet expression filled your vision. And you felt even more hurt, as you saw him so happy to see you, to know he didn’t really think you were his mom. 

It was clear he cared for you. And loved you, and being with you. But to him...You weren’t his mom. And that was so painful. 

“I got a plan mom, I got a plan !” 

A...Plan ? For what ? You don’t even have time to ask him, and, still a little hazy as you just woke up from a short nap (that you took after crying exhausted you), you raise a little from your husband. 

You exchange a curious look with him, as you see Tim spring to his feet and get a hold of the piece of cardboard that is almost as tall and large as him. 

He turns it around and...

Your heart drops. 

It’s a lot of very detailed drawings, maps and words about...about...

“This is how we’re going to convince the headmaster of my school that you’re really my mom, even if officially you’re not yet !! I thought we could start with logic first, and then go down the path of pathos if he really doesn’t change his mind !” 

What ? Your brain is trying really hard to comprehend what’s happening, although it is starting to put two and two together. 

“The rules say that the mom HAS to be the one who comes, and the way they wrote it suggest that they wouldn’t accept someone who isn’t yet official. But I think we could convince that, in our heart, we’re already an official family, right ?!” 

Tim looks at you, and then at his dad, a little worry in his eyes (what if for them, he wasn’t their son yet because the paperworks weren’t finished and officials quite yet ?!?!). Bruce cannot help but smile, and nods, feeling his heart melt (a rare occurrence). 

And you. You have exactly the reaction he expected you’d have. You sit up, put the cardboard aside, and drag your son into a tight hug that makes him giggle and exclaim : 

“Hahaha mom wait I can’t breaaaathe !! Mom !!” 

But he hugs you back, knowing that this means yes, you do consider him your son already, paperworks or not, and you will probably follow his plan to convince the school to-

“Mom ? Why are you crying ? Mom ?” 

You can’t explain it to him. You feel silly, but also so emotional and touched. You thought he didn’t think of you as his mom. But he did. Oh he did, and was actually worried about technicalities of rules and...So sweet. That boy is so sweet. 

Carefully, Tim dries your tears, and look curiously at his dad, his eyes clearly asking : “Did I do something wrong ?”

You’re still unable to speak, as you hold onto him, and Bruce ruffles his son’s hair saying : 

“She’s just too happy, champ. She’s just too happy.” 

CASSANDRA

"You, not my mom !” 

She screamed. You never heard Cass raised her voice before. And yet, here, she screamed at you. And then closed her bedroom door right on your nose. 

And you felt it in your heart. That specific pain that you wished you’d never feel again. That kind of hurt you wished you’d never feel ever again. 

It happened just liked it did with Dick and Jason. You were “lecturing” her about putting herself in needless danger, and she felt frustrated at the fact you “didn’t trust her”. 

It wasn’t true of course. You did trust her. And you knew she could hold her own. Didn’t mean you wouldn’t worry, and scold her if she really scared you... 

It was pure instinct. You couldn’t stop yourself from telling them off when you felt they went too far. You did it with Bruce too. 

Once, he threw himself in the way of a bullet to save you, and once he recovered enough...Oh you were so mad at him. 

It’s not that you wanted to take that bullet, of course. You knew it was also instinct that made him move to save you. But in truth, you would rather take a thousand bullet than lose any of them. Bruce, or your children. 

And sometimes, it was hard for them to understand this. To get why you were so worried, when you accepted fully their night activities. 

Why you monitored the batcomputer, if it was to scold them when they put themselves in danger ? 

Ah but they didn’t understand that you only got “mad” when they put themselves in NEEDLESS danger. Pushing themselves too far that one night, being careless with something, ignoring their own safety to finish a task... 

You couldn’t help but be afraid. And your fear turned into you scolding them. And sometimes, on each sides, things boiled and...

“You, not my mom !” 

The meaning was clear. As Cass slammed her door right in your face, you knew not to push it further, not to tell her anything more. 

Maybe you should’ve ? Should’ve open her door, and continue lecturing her so she’d understand her life was valuable ? 

Cass put herself in danger more than any other member of your family, because she was raised as a weapon and thought of herself as an “expendable”. You weren’t mad at her for this, of course not (but oh, David Cain probably should never cross your path, it wasn’t pretty, when you were truly angry). 

You were just worried. And unfortunately, being a parent was complicated and sometimes, your worry turned a little overbearing for your kids. 

This was a mistake every normal caring parents made. Wanting what was best for their children, sometimes not realizing they’re going too far. And you ? Your family wasn’t normal. 

Your children were vigilantes. Your worries were tuned up to the max.  

Being a parent was hard. And sometimes, both you and your kids were frustrated. It happened. In any family. 

It was resolved rather fast, most of the time. A little conversation, understanding and indulgence, and boom. Sorted. 

However, there were times when things would go a little too far. Wether because one of you was tired, or didn’t feel well etc etc...

Tonight, was such a time. 

“You, not my mom !” 

Cass didn’t even register what she said. She was just mad and frustrated, and said the first thing that came into her mind. Her hand slammed the door shut before she could even think about it. 

And here you were. In the corridor. In front of your daughter’s door. 

Hurt. And feeling as devastated as you did when her brothers told you the same thing. You would think, after a few times of this happening, it’d be easier, right ? Well. No. It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. 

As usual in those instances, you went to seek comfort in the arms of your husband. 

************

Cassandra didn’t feel ok. 

In fact, she felt absolutely terrible. 

She couldn’t even remember the last time she felt that bad. 

When she went to look for you and apologize for her behavior, she found you in her dad’s arms, crying, and it made her run away...

She couldn’t face you, knowing she truly hurt you like that. 

The worst thing is, she knew she would hurt you by saying those words. Yet she still did it. It was as if she couldn’t control herself. It was like an ugly force took over her, and made her say those words. 

But she knew. She knew she’s the one who ultimately decided to say them. She’s the one that pronounced them. Under the anger. 

Anger. 

The ugly force. 

She turned around in her bed, holding onto the plush toy you gave her shortly after her arrival. You said “every child should have one” and that this one made you think of her. 

It was a fox with bright colors. And it still smelled like you. 

She was about to fall asleep, when she heard a knock on her door. 

“Can we come in ?” 

It was her older brothers. 

Dick, Jason and Tim. 

It was rare, to have them all in the same place nowadays, what with how busy they all were. Dick with Bludhäven, Jason with the gods only knew what really (the gods, and you and Bruce...but sshhh, that’s a secret), and Tim with college applications. 

So Cass immediately understood that they heard about the fight she had with their mom. 

And she felt a rush of shame come over her. She felt sad too, because maybe they’d be mad at her ?

Cassandra didn’t think she could bear to break your heart, and have her precious brothers mad at her all in the same day. 

She almost told them to leave. But she didn’t have the strength. 

They surrounded her, and their presence was so...soothing. 

And then they spoke. They each told her the story of the time they told their mom those few dreaded words. 

“You’re not my real mom !” 

They told her how awful they felt, and how they knew they hurt their mom. They told her that...well, they did have the best mom ever. 

You never held any grudge. Ever. Especially not against your own family. 

You never even mentioned again the fact they told you this awful thing, you never even mentioned once this, under any circumstances. 

Her brothers stayed with her for hours, talking about their feelings on the matter. Telling her it happened. That everyone wasn’t always on their best behavior...

It was hard, for Cass, to not be “good”. She did so many awful things when her biological father raised her to be a weapon, she felt like she had to catch up so much on those years of “badness”. 

She often felt like she was evil, and could never caught up to everything. Like she was doomed, and could never become good. 

On that, Jason told her she was wrong. That everyone could change, and no one was born truly evil. Environment, and the way you’re raised, matter. And what she did...wasn’t her fault. She was forced to. If she really enjoyed doing this she’d never become a Batgirl. She would never be part of this family. 

She often felt like she was a bad daughter. 

On that, Dick told her she was wrong. He too, felt like a bad son, when he “replaced” his parents with you and Bruce. He too, felt like a bad son when he would get so mad while you would do anything to make him happy. He too, felt like a bad son...on so many occasions. But he grew. And thanks to you mainly, he realized he was just human. Mistakes are human. And it’s not being a bad son, to sometimes feel so hurt that you lash out. That your trauma are so strong, things sometimes are tough. 

She often felt like she couldn’t fit in, and would never fit in. 

On that, Tim told her she was wrong. Him too, felt too different. He already had parents, they were alive, he just wanted to help, he didn’t have any friends...But in this family. In this family, everyone fitted in. Because you made it so. Bruce made it saw. You both accepted any flaws, and differences your kids might have. You loved them unconditionally, they all knew that by now. 

And Cass...Cass didn’t want to hurt you. 

They knew that, too.

It was an accident. In the heat of the moment. She didn’t mean it. Of course, you are her mom. Of course...

It felt good, to have her brothers there for her, when you couldn’t be. 

************

Later that night, after her brothers left, Cass slowly exits her room and take the known way to yours and Bruce’s. 

You are both there, and she knows her dad stayed because you felt bad. He always stayed with you, when you were feeling down. And vice versa.

Cass always told herself that, later, if she ever found a significant other, she’d want her and them to have the same kind of relationships than you. You and Bruce set up a rather high standard for whoever would come into her life. 

But that was another story. For now, she was opening the door slowly, scared of waking you up. But you were awake. 

Bruce was asleep, deeply. As usual when he felt your warmth against him. But you were not. Cass could see you slowly and absentmindedly caress your husband’s hair. It was soothing to both of you. His silky smooth dark hair were soft in between your fingers, and helped you get your mind off of the pain and focus on the sensation, while for him...Well, it put him asleep, when you did that. 

The door creaked a little, and you abruptly turned your head towards it, ready to fight and...You instantly recognize your daughter, even in the dark of the room. 

She doesn’t need to talk. You manage to roll over Bruce, who then by instinct roll too, and therefor you create a little spot for your daughter to climb in bed with you. 

You turn around in Bruce’s arms, and slowly wrap them around your middle, instead of your shoulders. You turn towards Cass, your back against Bruce’s chest, and tap the small spot you managed to create next to you. 

Cass understands, and climbs in, facing you. She lays her head on her arms, as you do the same. And then she mouthes : 

“Sorry mom...” 

And that’s all you needed. You gesture for your daughter to cuddle up close, and she does. By instinct, Bruce lets go one arm off of you, and grabs his kid to bring her closer. He is still asleep, but it wouldn’t surprise anyone that his subconscious holds onto the two most important women in his life like so. 

And there she is. Cass feels safe. And warm. And she hears your heart beat softly. And she knows it partly beats for her. 

And partly for Bruce. And partly for Dick. And partly for Jason. And Tim. And Damian. And Duke. And Alfred. 

It beats for your family. 

For her family.

Family. 

She has a family. 

And you are her mom. 

Her biological father never hugged her, never told her everything was going to be alright, never... 

Cass never felt safe and warm. 

Like she did, right now, held by both you and Bruce. 

“Family...”

She whispers, as she slowly falls asleep. And you’re the only mom she ever wants to have. You are, her real mom. Always have been, always will be. 

DAMIAN 

Damian didn’t really think this was a big deal, at first. 

Just like his father, he often made the mistake to think that people around him will simply understand his true meaning. 

When he told you : “You’re not even my real mom !”, he obviously didn’t mean it. He was angry because you told him he couldn’t go out on patrol for a few days, as he was grounded for skipping school and going to work on cases instead. 

“But school is boring, I already know everything ??” 

“It’s the principle of it, Damian. You can’t just do what you want whenever you want, this is not how it works. I don’t feel like we’re extremely strict parents, so when you betray our trusts like that, it has consequences.”

Bruce kept out of the argument, ready to jump in however if you needed him to affirm  that yes, actions have consequences and although you two are pretty lax with your son on many fronts, he still has to listen. You and Bruce made clear rules when you first adopted Dick, because you realized your lifestyle was anything but normal, but it didn’t mean your children could just do anything they wanted. 

Neither of you wanted them to turn into privileged little brats. Or to think they were above everything. And you were right, by skipping school so much, and lying about it, Damian did betray your trust. 

Understanding actions had consequences was a big step that took a while, with Damian. Unfortunately, he grew up in an environment that indeed taught him he could do whatever he wanted, no matter if he hurt people on the way... 

Unlearning all this, was tough. And you understood that. Which is why you let things go a lot, with him, and only slowly told him about things. Gradually teaching him about your values and principles. 

However sometimes, like in this case, you needed to be firm and strict, because otherwise he’d just keep doing it knowing it had no bad consequences, and you didn’t want him to simply not go to school anymore...School was important for his social development, you realized it as he made friends and...

And simply, an eleven years old kid couldn’t just roam around all day as he saw fit. That’s it. And so here you were, trying to explain this to him. And that’s when he said it. 

He scrunched up his nose like he always did when he was angry, and then, turning his head away from you, throwing his Robin boots at the back of the cave. 

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not even my real mom !” 

And then he bolted out of the Batcave, leaving you behind, with a broken heart and feeling guilty...What if he hates you, because you were too harsh on him ? 

Bruce, that night, did not go out on patrol either, and stayed with you. Of course, he did. 

************

The fact he still listened to you and didn’t go out, made him thought you knew he was just angry and didn’t mean a word of it. 

To him, it was so obvious he thought of you as his mom, and that he said this just because he wanted to have the last word, that he honestly didn’t think much of it. 

Sure he was frustrated and angry, just like any kid was when their parents said : “no” to them. But he didn't mean it... 

He didn’t really see you of the entire day. Finally, he decided to go see his father to ask him what was up. 

“Father ?”

“Yes ?”

“Is-is mom ok ?”

“Well, what do you think ?” 

“She doesn’t seem ok.” 

“Do you know why ?” 

“Did you do something to upset her ?” 

Normally, Bruce would feel vex at this statement. What, did he really do things to upset you that often ? Yes and now. Sometimes,  he would get on your nerve, and vice versa. It happened, in relationships.

But it was never anything major. Not anymore at least. Because now, when he had his “dark days” and could be a total jerk, you knew how to handle him. You knew not to take his bullshit. 

Yes. Normally, Bruce would pout like a child, at the fact his son thought that his mom was feeling down because of him. But not today. No. 

Because he knew that what made you sad, was something important.

Unfortunately, Damian inherited from him his bad habit of thinking others will understand his meaning. 

Like, when he tried to push you away at first so you wouldn't get involved in his crazy life, what he really wanted was for you to get closer...Or when he told you that he was fine at times, all he wanted was for you to hold him and take care of him etc etc...The first time he told you “I love you”, wasn’t with words, but by not going on patrol one night, to stay with you. And he thought you’d immediately understand that he truly loved you...Truth was, it wasn’t as obvious to you (or anyone really) than it was for him. 

And Damian had the same problem. Doing things that he thought would obviously tell his meaning, his real feelings, when really...No one but him would get it. 

Although you became quite good at deciphering your husband’s true intentions, you could still misinterpret things sometimes. 

And yesterday night, when you grounded your son and tried to teach him a life lesson...You definitely didn’t see that he didn’t mean what he said and just wanted the last word. For you, he was seriously meaning it. And that’s why you were avoiding him a little, because it was too hard to...to... 

Damian’s words truly hurt you. You often were scared he could never see you as his mom (even if he did call you mom now and clearly cared for you) because of how he grew up. You’d never give up on him, of course, but it didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt when he pushed you away or pretended to not care... 

Damian thought it was obvious, that his actions actually reflected how much you meant to him. That without you, he’d be lost and honestly wouldn’t want to live in a world where you weren’t. 

But it wasn’t obvious. 

Bruce sighed, and then smiled : 

“Since when is she acting odd ?” 

“This morning. She didn’t kiss me goodbye when she went to work !”

It felt like such a serious issue to your boy, in that instant, that Bruce wished you were there to see his reaction. You’d instantly know he didn’t mean it, when he said you weren’t his mom... 

But you couldn’t quite face him. You didn’t really avoid him or try to hurt him by not saying goodbye. Of course not, you were an adult, and you definitely knew that doing to others what was done to you is pointless, and mean. And why hurt someone the same way they hurt you ? You’re no better than them uh... 

“Can you think of anything that might’ve upset her ?” 

“I spilled my milk a little, but cleaned it after. I didn’t let Alfred do it like last time. I woke up a minute late, too. Jason hasn’t called in two days, but he was there yesterday afternoon. Dick said she messed up her pumpkin soup but he was just joking and she knows. Tim fell asleep at the breakfast table. You clinging to her this morning apparently made her late, I heard Alfred say it. Um...Cass um...Cass didn’t do anything bad really...None of those things sound like it would upset her though ! She really looked sad this morning, not like herself at all !” 

Bruce couldn’t help but smile. It was pretty cute, how Damian often acted as if he didn’t care about anything, yet no details would ever go past him. Especially not when it came to his family. He always noticed, when one of them felt down in any way, and tried to help (in his own way). 

Hell, he probably woke Tim up and told him to sleep more and take care of himself. Called Jason and told him to call his mom. Scolded Dick to not make this kind of jokes again. 

This was just the Damian that was privy only to them. A sweet child, who unfortunately often had trouble expressing his true feelings. 

Just like his father. 

Damian would often brag about his siblings, and how awesome they were, to his friends (notably to Jon, who didn’t have any siblings). But he’d never tell them right in front of their face. 

Bruce tried to help Damian see what was wrong, and said : 

“What about last night ?” 

“Ugh ? What about last n-OH !” 

Damian replayed the events in his head, and remembered his anger and frustration. But most importantly...What he told his mom. 

“I have to find mom ! Where is she ?!” 

Damian looked absolutely panicked, which was quite unlike him. Bruce answered : 

“She’s at work, she had a meeting with her editor. She should be back soon, though.” 

And on that note, Damian ran out to do god knew what, as Bruce shook his head and...Well, he just knew things would turn out alright. 

************

Alfred almost fainted, when he saw Damian tear off his beautiful flowers from his garden. He almost ran out, and had a very “get off my lawn !” moment...up until he realized that the boy was probably doing this for a reason. 

Oh. Oh his poor lilies.  

Hopefully, this really was for a good reason. A very good one. One so good, that it would stop him from strangling his grandkid, hopefully...

************

When you came home, Damian was waiting for you at the front door. He had a bunch of lilies in his hands (that you were pretty sure were from Alfred’s precious garden) and he looked absolutely frantic. 

He ran to you, almost threw the flowers in your arms, and yelled : 

“I’M SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN IT !! YOU ARE MY REAL MOM ! I WAS JUST ANGRY ! I’M SORRY !!” 

You were a little confused as to why he was yelling, but before you could continue he took a drawing out of his pocket and added : 

“THIS IS A DRAWING OF YOU ! I MADE IT FOR YOU !! YOU ARE MY MOM ! YOU REALLY ARE ! PLEASE FORGIVE ME !! I’M SORRY !! DO NOT BE MAD AT ME !!” 

Still confused as to why he was screaming, you bend down to look at him eye level, settled the flowers on the floor, and said : 

“It’s ok Damian. It’s ok. We all get frustrated sometimes...I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt, but it’s ok. It happens.” 

Damian’s face showed great relief, and he leaped into your arms, yelling : 

“I LOVE YOU !!” 

You winced as he screamed in your ear, and said : 

“Why are you yelling, little one ?” 

Damian took a step back from you and said : 

“BECAUSE I HAVE TROUBLE EXPRESSING MYSELF AND JASON TOLD ME THAT SAYING THINGS IN AN AGGRESSIVE WAY MIGHT HELP !! AND HE’S RIGHT !! I LOVE YOU !!”

Damian told you he loved you before, in certain moments. When he got really hurt, when you were really hurt, if he felt really sad...It was always a moment full of emotions. And it was still rather hard for him to say the words. 

It didn’t really surprise you that Jason would have such a technique. Yelling his feelings. Yep. Sounds like him alright. And it did seem like it worked for his little brother too. 

Only you and your close family would know, because you were the only ones to truly know him, but those two were more similar than others would think. And it wasn’t because they already killed before. Oh no. On the contrary. 

“I love you too, my little one...” 

You say, as he goes back for another hug, clearly relieved you’re not mad at him. From this day on, he swore to himself that he would really try to tell others’ what he truly felt, even if it meant yelling it at them. Because other wise...otherwise it’d create this sort of terrible situations, in which his mom thought he didn’t think of her as his mom ! 

He couldn’t have it, anymore. Many “I LOVE YOU !!” were heard in the Manor, from that point on. 

DUKE 

“You know you can tell me anything, right ?” 

Duke doesn’t know why this time, this made him snap. 

Today was the anniversary of when his parents got “jokerize”, it had been two years already...And not one step closer to cure them ! He was so frustrated, sad, and lost. And you noticed. 

Duke tend to try to keep things inside. Not that he didn’t want to bother anyone, more like he just thought he HAD to handle things himself. Like it would make him stronger, and therefor, he could protect those he cares about. 

He could protect them, unlike when he could do nothing but watch as his parents fell into madness...He couldn’t bear the thought of this happening to you, Bruce, or any member of this family ! Not again. 

He couldn’t bear it...

“You’re not even my mom ! Stop acting like you are !” 

Are the words he heard himself scream at you as you asked him if everything was ok, and if he needed to talk. As you were caring, once again, and he just couldn’t...he couldn’t stand it ! Not today.

Not today. 

He immediately saw on your face the way you shut down, and took one step behind. The way your face “closed”, and as you said : “I understand.” and left the room, your body stiff and your face inexpressive (which was very unlike you), Duke felt it. 

The guilt. 

Right away.

When those dreaded words were said by all your other kids, they were young. They were all under the age of ten, and the immediate consequences of their actions didn’t truly registered. 

But Duke. 

Duke was almost eighteen. And he knew. He knew he hurt you. 

He felt the need to run after you and apologized, but there was something stopping him. 

After all, it was true right, you weren’t his mom ! His mom was still alive, and she could be cured one day ! HE ALREADY HAVE A MOM ! 

So what if you always cooked him his favorite meal, or knew exactly what his favorite food was ? So what if you would go out of your way to grab his favorite burger from his favorite joints when you knew he felt down ? 

So what, if you were always there when he was sad ? Cheering him up with comfort food, kind words, and just your presence ? 

So what if you knew exactly what would make him feel better, which movie to put on to put a smile on his face ? 

So what, if you spend entire night right by his bedside when he got really hurt, or when he was sick ? 

So what if you’d listen to him at any time of the day or night, and always took time to give him your thoughts on the matter, and truly, truly listen to what he was saying instead of waiting for your turn to speak ? 

So what if you’d make him laugh, smile, feel loved, even as he felt so alone and isolated, especially after he discovered his powers ? 

So what if you never made him feel like he was different because of it ? 

So what if you opened your house’s door without a second thought for this unknown teenager who was also a meta ?!

So what...so what...so what if you obviously cared a lot, and if you...if you... 

He already had a mom. And she might get better one day. 

He couldn’t have two moms. 

...

...

Right ? 

What would happen when his parents would be cured ? Forget all his feelings for the Waynes ? So it’d be easier to pretend he wasn’t part of the family, right ? 

It would be easier. 

Yes. 

But it was too late. 

It was too late... 

He ran after you. Caught up with you in the corridor. Tears in his eyes, he said : 

“I’m sorry, please don’t go...”

And fell into your arms. Almost eighteen years old, yes, but still needed the support of a mother. Of his mother. 

And you were there. You’d always be there, no matter what happened in the future. And he needed you, especially in that moment of frustration, where he really missed his parents, and was starting to lose hope to ever find a cure... 

And you were there.

Who ever made a rule that you could have only one mom anyway, right ?

BRUCE 

They did tell him “you’re not my dad !” too. And for him, it was as terrible as for you. If not worst, on certain aspect. Especially since he had a hard times truly expressing his feelings more often than not. 

He knows how devastating it can feel. He knows it even more, because not only did he feel it as they told him “you’re not my dad !”, but he also felt it as he told Alfred “you’re not my dad !”. He knew the feelings from both sides. 

It enhanced everything. 

Of course, in general, Bruce always felt things more than anyone else around him. He was born like that. Hypersensitive. That’s why he worked so much on hiding his true feelings, and appearing detached and cold. 

It’s much easier, than to always being overemotional. Of course, it didn’t mean he felt nothing. On the contrary, he felt everything. He was just better, nowadays, at pretending he was okay. At pretending he didn’t care. 

Ah. But you existed. 

You. 

The only person that could always see through his bullshit, and know when he was lying and fake smiling. 

Between the two of you, there has always been something. Even before you were together. It was an irrational and irresistible attraction. 

An unbreakable bond. Always supporting each others. 

You have no idea how you’d live without him. And he couldn’t even fathom a world without you. It’s a world he wouldn’t like very much...  

Even during the worst times, and oh you went through a lot together, you knew at least...at least you’d have warm arms to fall asleep in. At least, you’d have each others. 

Bruce had known pain so strong he sometimes wished death would just take him away. And then you came in. Ready to put up with his shit, and to not give up on him even when he gave you every reason to. 

And oh, oh he gave you back everything times a thousand. You knew he’d never let you fall. Not alone. 

Whenever something hurtful as your children telling you two you weren’t their real parents happened...It’s when you truly realized how vital you were to each others. 

When you fell, Bruce was there to catch you. 

When he fell, you were there to catch him. 

Better to fall together, than to stand alone. 

__________________________________________________

And here we are :). I hope you liked it ? Don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback and reblog if you want to ^^. I’m a little afraid I disappointed y’all for some reasons haha. I couldn’t explain. Self-confidence crisis hahaha. I finished writing that late, and exhausted after a hard week, maybe it plays into account ? Anyway, I really do hope you enjoyed your time reading this :). And thanks for reading, of course ^^. 

[metamorphesque]

Favorite quotes by our beloved Franz? Love your blog!

All language is but a poor translation.

Don't bend; don't water it down; don't try to make it logical; don't edit your soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.

He is terribly afraid of dying because he hasn’t yet lived.

I long for you; I who usually long without longing, as though I am unconscious and absorbed in neutrality and apathy, really, utterly long for every bit of you.

I do not see the world at all; I invent it.

I have the true feeling of myself only when I am unbearably unhappy.

I never wish to be easily defined.

I usually solve problems by letting them devour me.

You can hold yourself back from the sufferings of the world, that is something you are free to do and it accords with your nature, but perhaps this very holding back is the one suffering you could avoid.

I am free and that is why I am lost

I’m tired, can’t think of anything and want only to lay my face in your lap, feel your hand on my head and remain like that through all eternity.

You are at once both the quiet and the confusion of my heart.

This tremendous world I have inside of me. How to free myself, and this world, without tearing myself to pieces. And rather tear myself to a thousand pieces than be buried with this world within me.

I write differently from what I speak, I speak differently from what I think, I think differently from the way I ought to think, and so it all proceeds into deepest darkness.

I am constantly trying to communicate something incommunicable, to explain something inexplicable, to tell about something I only feel in my bones and which can only be experienced in those bones. Basically it is nothing other than this fear we have so often talked about, but fear spread to everything, fear of the greatest as of the smallest, fear, paralyzing fear of pronouncing a word, although this fear may not only be fear but also a longing for something greater than all that is fearful.

I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.

One of the first signs of the beginning of understanding is the wish to die.

Anyone who cannot come to terms with his life while he is alive needs one hand to ward off a little his despair over his fate… but with his other hand he can note down what he sees among the ruins.

And, of course

‘I remember,’ Brod writes, ‘ a conversation with Kafka which began with present-day Europe and the decline of the human race. “We are nihilistic thoughts, suicidal thoughts that come into God’s head,” Kafka said. This reminded me at first of the Gnostic view of life: God as the evil demiurge, the world as his Fall. “Oh no,” said Kafka, “our world is only a bad mood of God, a bad day of his.” “Then there is hope outside this manifestation of the world that we know.” He smiled. “Oh, plenty of hope, an infinite amount of hope – but not for us.”

Thank you, love 🌼

[arielxlazarus]

I almost forgot about that fanfic appreciation week, but I wanted to at least do something for it! So here's a rec list for some of my favorite fics in the one piece fandom!

This list is not at all exhaustive btw (there's still loads of other fics in the fandom that I love), so please don't feel bad if you weren't included! Also if anyone wants more recommendations from me, you can check out my bookmarks on my ao3!

Who Knows (what could happen) by Chromi

Rating: T

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: For as long as he could remember, he had wanted to set out to sea as an adventurer. His father, unfortunately, dictated that he was to follow the family tradition and become a doctor instead.

Following a lifetime of hurt and sorrow at the hands of his family, he eventually breaks free and takes to the sea alone - determined to keep it that way. Fate has other ideas in store for him; fate crosses his path with Portgas D. Ace's, a brand new pirate.

And what does he hate more than pirates?

Nothing.

Or: from Sixis to the Moby Dick - the lives of the Spade pirates.

First Time by Chromi

Rating: E

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: "Because it is Ace, and it will only ever be Ace, that he wants to see like this, and he wants to be responsible for unravelling him down to his core and loving him to his very center."

In which Ace and Deuce go all the way for the first time.

@chromiwrites

Seabound by AnkhPosts

Rating: T

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace is a selkie, making one of his periodic stops on land to catch a breather and get some ridiculously tasty human food, maybe see some sights if there are any. His pelt is safely hidden, he'll stay a day or two at most and be on his way.

Deuce is a mer, alone on the sea and traveling as he pleases for the first time in his life, and while he might not be terribly interested in actually interacting with humans it's hard not to see them as fascinating.

Ace meets Deuce. Deuce meets Ace. Neither knows the other isn't human.

@ankhposts

Death is only the beginning by Chizyk

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: “Ankhreshet?” he whipped his head round at the sound of a raspy voice so fast he almost got whiplash. He could feel his body going completely cold as he saw the mummy’s empty eye sockets staring right at him.

@chizyk

I'm Still Here (part of a series) by theprodigypenguin

Rating: M

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace (also Izou/Sabo later in the series)

Summary: "When I do die, don't bother burying me in that empty grave. Put my body in a boat and set me out to sea. Let me sleep eternal on the ocean that my father loved so much; because before everything else in this world, I am a child of the sea, and when I die, I want to return to it. Put me in a boat and set it aflame so I can go down in the same fire I lived."

Forget-Me-Not Fall by theprodigypenguin

Rating: M

Pairing: Izou/Sabo

Summary: “Most of the nobles I’ve met tonight look meticulously put together. They look like they were built to portray a certain image paralleled a hundred times over. People who were copied and pasted. Flawless clothes, flawless faces, flawless makeup, flawless hair.”

“Not me though,” Sabo stated, and Izou hummed.

“It’s comforting.”

“Huh?”

Izou met Sabo’s eye. “Everyone else in this place hides their worst attributes with a mask they modified to fit their faces. They don’t seem to comprehend that those perfect masks only make their worst characteristics more pronounced and defined.” His expression was terribly gentle as his eyes wandered across Sabo’s face. “It’s comforting to be approached by someone not trying to be something else.”

Sabo tilted his head. “How do you know I’m not manipulating you like some common Goa aristocrat?”

Izou smiled. “There are a few reasons.”

@theprodigypenguin

A Light To Guide You Home by TheSkyIsMyHome

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: In a world that despises mutants, Ace lives purely to protect his little brother.

Until the flames inside him find their perfect match and opposite, and he doesn't know what to feel anymore.

The Phoenix's Mate by TheSkyIsMyHome

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Marco is a handsome man. Ace really can't be blamed for being attracted to him. Nobody minds, either.

But Marco isn't always a man. Ace still loves him regardless, and his sexual urges are catching up to that fact.

Marco indulges him, but he might just find himself enjoying it more than he thought he would.

@evvazi

ASL in Red (series) by Kereea

Rating: G-T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace, Monkey D. Luffy/Trafalgar D. Water Law (both asexual), Koala/Sabo, Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks/Benn Beckman, Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante/Aokiji | Kuzan, Roronoa Zoro/Sanji, and several other minor ones

Summary: In an alternate universe, forces conspired to put Ace, Sabo, and Luffy in the care of the Red Hair pirates as children.

The Grand Line would never know what hit it.

Mates (part of a series) by Deubatty

Rating: E

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Deuce just wanted to go searching for plants! A nice walk in the woods. Except, he ends up becoming the mate to a very persistent naga

His First Mate The Mermaid (part of a series) by Deubatty

Rating: T

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Instead of finding another person on Sixis, Ace finds a mermaid

@masked-writer

Being Human by MaiKusakabe

Rating: E (no smut)

Pairing: None (heavy focus on the platonic relationships between Marco, Whitebeard, and the rest of the crew as they form)

Summary: The line that differentiates human from object appears to be clear, but sometimes it blurs to the point where it is impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

The Unknown Devil by MaiKusakabe

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace hadn’t expected his last week of imprisonment before his execution to be any different from all the years preceding it. Then again, he hadn’t expected to have Marco the Phoenix as a cellmate for that week, or that Marco’s presence would shake his bleak world so much.

Ripple Effect by MaiKusakabe

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: After the incident with Shanks, Garp didn't take Luffy to Dadan's, unaware of how much that would change the life of his other grandson.

@maisstories

To Build a Home by endlessblankpages

Rating: G

Pairing: None (heavy focus on the platonic relationships between the ASL bros and the Whitebeard Pirates)

Summary: The ASL pirates are used to being accused of crimes they didn't commit. But when they're accused of destroying a small village in the New World, it sends them hurtling toward a deadly confrontation with the strongest man in the world, Whitebeard. The results are not what they were expecting.

Persistence & The Impossible (part of a series) by dragonsfall

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: In order to keep himself from losing his job, Ace takes on an impossible story. Get an interview with the ever-elusive Phoenix. Guess he might as well kiss his job goodbye.

Self Discovery (part of a series) by dragonsfall

Rating: E

Pairing: Izou/Sabo (sort of, it's technically masturbation)

Summary: Sabo has been waiting for a day like this for a while but it doesn’t go quite how he planned it.

@clockworkpanic

A Breach of Intention by Depths

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: It was unspoken, but some pirate crews and mermaids had an unspoken solidarity. Pirates throw their enemies overboard, and the merfolk will take care of them.

mer!ace au

@leviathiane

Running on All Sixes by lunarshores

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace, minor Izou/Thatch

Summary: The Whitebeard gang might be one of the most influential in the city, but to Marco they're just his family. Though he sometimes wishes they'd just leave him alone, especially when Izo's playing matchmaker, and Ace is his usual oblivious self. When a brother betrays them, they'll have to fight to show why no one ever messes with their family.

nothing is impossible with you by lunarshores

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Five times Ace and Marco accidentally mixed their flames on accident and one time that was entirely on purpose.

@lunarshores

I Want You to Look at Me by shockandlock

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: One night, Marco is missing from dinner, so Ace decides to bring dinner to him. He's surprised to see Marco wearing glasses and now he can't stop thinking about the way he looks. Now with additional chapter(s) including more miscellaneous MarcoAce PWP!

To My Dear Fire (part of a series) by shockandlock

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Living in the city is a new thing for Ace. After being raised near a cozy coastal mountain town through his childhood, it's definitely a change of pace, but it doesn't help when he loses his new job after an unfortunate encounter with actor Marco Newgate. He just wants to live-- and meet his long time pen pal, Phoenix.

Marco knows that being an actor is hard, so he takes the little things when he can: writing his pen pal (and honestly one of his best friends) Fire Fist, flirting with the cute new waiter at his favorite café-- not that he has a chance after a disaster on social media. But maybe fate really does give him a second chance when Ace shows up at Four Emperor Studios...

@shockandlock

Uncharted Territory by silverwolf_fox

Rating: E

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: This was by far one of Ace's most ridiculous ideas.

When Deuce keeps getting flustered everytime he tries to dominate Ace, they created an opportunity where he didn't have to be afraid of messing up.

Now he's free to do and try whatever he wants...

...so long as Ace doesn't wake up.

Watching the Sunrise (part of a series) by silverwolf_fox

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Many years have passed since Rouge gave up her life for her son’s...except she didn’t die, but she thinks Ace did. Living her life on Baterilla, she’s mourned each and every day until the morning she receives his bounty poster. She sets off immediately to find him, but finds their meeting isn’t as easy as she’d imagined.

@the-devil-fruit-tree

never shall i forget, how you climbed out of a dream by siojo

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: “Kaido,” Ace smirks, flames burning around his feet as he shifts in preparation for Kaido’s next attack, already trying to decide what he’s going to do in response. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? You’ve seemed to have been enjoying yourself here.”

“I thought you would be smarter than this, Portgas. You’ve never tried to fight another Yonko before, your bounty won’t matter much when you lose.”

Ace barks a laugh, his teeth bared in a facsimile of a grin, “You must have missed out on the brawl I had with Big Mom after she sent two of her daughters and a son for me to consider marrying. This is a bit more personal than that.”

@wordsdrippinginink

Reborn in Fire by aerle

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Fireman Marco has earned the nickname 'the Phoenix' by saving numerous people from a certain death. After an accident however, he has to relearn to walk and gets a new job as arson inspector at a different fire station. There he gets confronted with a boy from his past, now all grown up and gorgeous.

Three's a Crowd, Four's a Double Date by aerle

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace (main), Izou/Thatch (secondary)

Summary: "We're not dating," Marco said definitively. "That we're sharing a bed tonight is a total coincidence."

@aerle

Universal Dive by EmpressKira

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace had been making his way through the city to go to one of his favorite cafes. Well, that was until this hole ripped in the sky and some pirate fell out with the flaming bird guy following. Getting targeted, he is dragged into a different world with pirates and everything defying the reality he is used to. Will he make it home? Will he go back when the time comes?

@empresskira

Blue moon (series) by de_Winter

Rating: T-M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Urban fantasy AU, werewolf Marco and witch Ace

Red Velvet by de_Winter

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace already knew their routine by heart, just from observing them for a couple of mornings when he had early delivery, and from Izou’s daily long winded—and probably sexually frustrated—rants. Big Blond would come out of the bakery wearing a shirt too tight for him and too thin for the weather as soon as he was done setting up the tables inside the storefront, holding a take out cup and a small box in his big hands. They looked really, pleasantly big from where Ace was standing, and he honestly wished he wasn't standing that far away.

@dee-de-winter

We'll Look Back and Laugh at Ourselves by JuHuaTai

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace, minor Gol D. Roger/Portgas D. Rouge

Summary: Between his new boyfriend and his workaholic boss, Marco felt like he was surrounded by family issues of the father and son dispute variety. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

Or maybe he should've listened to the office gossip more. Maybe then he'd figure it out sooner.

Gratitude of the Phoenix (part of a series) by JuHuaTai

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: [Based on 'The Crane Wife' Folklore]

One day, he saved a bird from freezing to death in a trap. Then, a stranger saved him from suffering the same fate, and a request to stay for one night turned into having someone to fill the void left in the small cottage and in his heart ever since his brothers left.

These two incident doesn’t seem to be related to one another, but they both changed Ace’s life in ways he could never have imagined.

Watashitachi wa Roger kaizoku desu (we still stand proud) by stereden

Rating: T

Pairing: None (heavy focus on Buggy, Shanks, and Crocus)

Summary: The Roger Pirates disappeared after their Captain's death, and were happy enough to let the Marines forget about them.

Until the Marines decide to execute their Captain's son, that is.

@stereden

This Bites! by Xomniac

Rating: M

Pairing: None (heavy focus on a main character oc and the strawhat pirates)

Summary: Sea Kings, sea-sickness, sunburns, a 95% genocidal Navy and more than a million and one other assorted ways to die. It's official: Being inserted into an anime sucks ass... Buuut I guess it could be worse. I mean, look on the bright side: At least I'm sailing with the future king of the pirates.

A Fortune that Never Grows Old by imperialmint

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: It's one thing to get butterflies in your stomach when you seen an attractive person but it's another thing entirely for Marco to want to stomp out a courtship ritual and lay foundations for a nest when he meets the navy's new (hot) secret weapon.

@imperialmint

Most of the authors on this list have many other excellent one piece fics I'd definitely suggest checking out! Enjoy your reading and try to show them all some love if you can!

[extasiswings]

Get in, clowns.  We’re going to the circus.  On ao3.

Eddie’s palms are sweaty.

It’s warm outside, the sun beating down on the park bench where he’s sitting, but it’s the nerves that have his hands clammy as he turns his water bottle over between them.  

When Buck had walked in the house earlier, he’d taken one look at Eddie and rolled his eyes before shoving him back into his bedroom.

“You can’t wear that,” Buck said, rifling through Eddie’s dresser.  He emerged with Eddie’s tightest pair of jeans and shoved them at his chest before turning to the drawers with shirts.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Eddie asked, baffled as he looked down at himself and then, skeptically, at the jeans.

“You look like a dad.”  Buck’s voice went muffled for a moment before he made a noise of victory and pulled out a deep red, long-sleeved shirt that Eddie’s pretty sure is at least a size too small. 

“Kind of hard not to.  Since I am one and all.  That’s not exactly a secret.”

“Yeah, but you can look like a hot dad who is making an effort instead of a regular dad going to the grocery store or something.  You’ll thank me later.”  

After Eddie had changed and walked out of the bathroom, Buck’s face shifted—Eddie could have sworn his eyes darkened, that his voice was rougher as he pronounced Eddie much better.

So Eddie knows he looks good.

But his palms are still sweaty.  He uncaps the water bottle and takes a sip more to have something to do than because he needs it.  And then he starts drumming his fingers against his thigh, needing something to occupy them, some way to move.  

He’s tempted to pull out his phone, to reread the latest texts from Bobby or even the shameless teasing in the group text that Buck started with his sisters—and boy, was that a mistake, putting the three of them in touch, because Eddie never in a million years would have told them he was going on a date if he hadn’t done it by accident because Buck’s direct messages happened to be right below the group—

He’s still not sure he should be, is the thing.  Dating.  He still feels like he can’t quite breathe right when he thinks too hard about it.  Can still play that last dinner with Shannon over on loop, from her asking for a divorce to the implication that really being with him again would be so terrible she would have to run for the hills and leave their child behind.

He didn’t exactly have great self-esteem to begin with.

Eddie wipes his palms on his jeans—he’s in the middle of debating whether it’s bad parenting to make up an emergency involving your kid to get out of a date, when—

“Eddie!  Hi,” Ana greets, walking up the path.  

The anxiety in his chest twists tighter as he gets up from the bench and waves.

“Hey.  You, uh—you look really nice,” he says, because it’s true and also the easiest thing he can remember from the last time he did this.  

Ana smiles.  “So do you.”

There’s a pause that lingers a little too long and then they both start trying to speak at once, cutting off abruptly when they realize.  Eddie rubs self-consciously at the back of his neck.

“Should we walk?” Ana offers, nodding down the path where it leads into the trees.

“Sure, yeah,” Eddie agrees.  

It’s actually not...bad.  She asks him about work and that’s a safe enough topic that he’s comfortable spending a few minutes telling her stories from the station.  She shares a little about the challenges of virtual teaching.  And then she asks about Chris, and, well, that’s an easy subject—Eddie could talk about Chris all day.  

He just finishes the story about the actual building of Christopher’s skateboard—which involved no small amount of comical trial and error on the part of two decidedly not Chris-sized grown men—when Ana gets a thoughtful look on her face and glances sideways at him.

“Can I ask you something personal?”  She asks.

Eddie rocks back on his heels and hooks his thumbs in his pockets.  “Sure.”

“How long has it been for you?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up.  “Since...the last time I dated?”

Ana nods.

“Well…” He wets his lips to stall.  “The last person I dated was my wife.  And I’m not sure it was really dating in the same way after we were married so...I guess...eleven years give or take?”

He laughs and he can hear the edge of self-deprecation.  “That obvious I’m out of practice?”

“No,” Ana says.  “No, that wasn’t—it’s really not actually. Although it does explain some things.”

“Things?”

She bites her lip.  “Nothing bad,” she insists.  “Just—”

“Have you ever been on a date where the other person talked about their ex the whole time and it was kind of obvious they still had feelings for them and you couldn’t help wondering why they weren’t with the ex when they clearly wanted to be?”  She asks.

Eddie blinks, scrolling back through their conversation trying to think—he’s pretty sure he hasn’t mentioned Shannon except for the once.  And he’s not still—

“In high school, maybe?” He answers.  “But I’m not sure—”

“I was trying to figure out if you and Buck ever dated,” she clarifies, and Eddie stops in his tracks, his mind shorting out as he takes that in.

“I—what?”

They’re back at the parking lot anyway, and although they could take another loop around the park, Ana stops by the closest bench and smiles as she leans against it.

“Look, I like you, Eddie,” she says.  “And if I’m totally off base and you want to see me again, I will definitely pick up the phone.  But if I’m not?  I couldn’t not say something.”

“Buck’s my best friend,” Eddie replies.  His head is swimming but it surprisingly doesn’t feel bad.  More like he’s been handed the clue card for a puzzle he was trying to solve and while the pieces haven’t quite come together fully, they’re getting there.

“You talk about him like he’s your partner.  Like the three of you are a family.  And when you talk about him you look like…”  Ana shakes her head and laughs, but it’s not unkind.  Just soft and maybe a little longing.  “I would love for someone to look like that when they’re talking about me.  Thinking about me.  So, I thought you should know.  Just in case you didn’t.”

Another puzzle piece falls into place and Eddie sucks in a breath.

“I do like you,” he says.

“Yeah...but you’re in love with him.  Right?”  Eddie’s quiet and Ana nods.

“I’m gonna go,” she decides.  “This was nice, for the record.  Maybe we can do it again.  As friends next time.”

“Ana—” Eddie calls after her.  When she looks back over her shoulder though, he’s not sure what to say except, “...thank you.”

“Let me know how it works out?” She asks.  “I’m a little invested now.”

Eddie laughs and runs a hand through his hair.  “Yeah...sure.”  

He drives home in a daze, so much of the past two years—maybe even longer—suddenly thrown into new light.  Everything he’s been afraid of, everything that’s been holding him back—all of the baggage and insecurities that Shannon left behind, that have made him feel like he’s not good enough, like he can’t be a partner to anyone—

He never stopped and looked too hard at what he already had.  What he was already doing.

What he has.  What he is doing.   

With Buck.

In the stark glare of hindsight, it’s easy to see—he was still married when they met, was worn down and bruised and not looking for anything.  He needed a friend and Buck slipped in to fill that void and Eddie...put him in a box.  Put them in a box.  Carefully compartmentalizing every aspect of his life because it was easier that way, because it allowed him to sort through the tangled knots of expectation from any number of other sides, any number of other identities—husband, father, son.

There was no baggage attached to friend.  No forgive and forget and take your wife back because kids need their mothers or you’ll drag him down with you or I wasn’t enough.

There was just...Buck.  Present.  Supportive.  Caring about him.  Believing in him.   The real him—masks off, walls down, warts and all.   

The longer Eddie thinks, the clearer things become.  His mind flips through memories like a scrapbook—panic attacks and phone calls at two in the morning, nights on the couch playing video games with Christopher and the slower, lingering moments with just the two of them after they put him to bed, all those months sharing a bed in Buck’s apartment while he despaired over being away from his son and Buck reminded him he was a good dad—

How many of those nights had Eddie wanted to kiss him?  How many times had he felt that buzz under his skin, the whisper of it would be so easy, only to shove it down because it was too dangerous to deal with.  

And when he thinks now about the future, about having someone in his home, in his bed, in his life, when he pictures it, all he can see is Buck.

It feels right.

“I love him,” Eddie says out loud, tasting the words on his tongue, letting them linger.

I love him.

His pulse spikes with his anxiety, but it calms down as he sits with it.  Because he knows Buck’s not going to leave.  He trusts that.  Buck’s seen him at his worst and none of that has ever driven him away.  So maybe…

Eddie’s mind flicks back to earlier in the day, to the dark heat in Buck’s gaze as it dragged over him before he looked away.

...yeah.  They’ll be okay.

He’s home before he even really registers and takes a few slow breaths before he shuts off the truck and gets out.  When he steps through the door, it’s a strange feeling.  The space is familiar but not.  More...settled somehow.  Home.

Home.

Eddie closes the door behind him and follows the sound of running water to the kitchen.  He stops in the doorway, leaning against the frame, and spends a moment just watching Buck scrub potatoes in the sink until the other man glances up and notices him.

“Hey,” Buck greets.  “Chris is reading in his room, I’m just working on dinner.  How was the date?”

God, I love you, Eddie thinks, and nearly has to bite his tongue to keep it to himself.

Yeah.  It’s right.

He shrugs.  “It was fine.  Ana’s nice.”

“When’s the next date then?”  There’s an odd note in Buck’s voice that makes Eddie push off the frame and step closer. 

“There’s not going to be one,” he replies.  “Ana’s nice...but I don’t want to date her.”

Buck stops.  Shuts off the water and turns, leaning back against the sink.

“No?”  Buck’s brow furrows.  “It’s not—do you still feel like you’re not ready?”

“No, it’s not that,” Eddie replies.  “I do think I’m ready.  But with the right person.”

His heart is pounding in his chest, but it’s not fear.  More...anticipation.  

He swallows hard.

“Ana said something that made me realize that...I don’t want to start from scratch with some stranger.”

Eddie takes another step closer and Buck inhales sharply, emotions shifting across his face too quickly for Eddie to name them all.

“Eddie…”  Buck sounds hoarse, a little disbelieving.  He leans forward for a moment before shaking his head, clearing his throat.

“I can’t—I need you to be specific,” he says.  “Because I can’t make assumptions here, I can’t—”

Eddie kisses him.  Steps in far enough that Buck’s body presses flush against his, slides his hand around the back of Buck’s neck, and kisses him.  Buck makes a small noise and grips him right back, his hands curving around Eddie’s hips nearly tight enough to bruise in sharp contrast to the way Eddie’s mouth feathers against his, soft as anything.  

“Specific enough?”  Eddie breathes, staying close enough that their lips brush again.  Buck surges up and uses his grip on Eddie’s hips to turn them, pinning Eddie against the counter as he kisses him again in response.  Once, twice, three times, and Eddie shivers.  

He hasn’t been kissed in so long, hasn’t been touched with intention like this—he’d forgotten what it felt like.  His body floods with heat as Buck’s hands slip under his shirt, spreading wide over his rib cage, and he parts his lips eagerly for Buck’s tongue.

Down the hall, a door closes, and Buck jumps back, Eddie slumping against the counter to keep himself upright.  Buck is flushed and panting and Eddie’s pretty sure he can’t look much better, too warm and electric, wanting, wanting, wanting—

Both of them catch their breath and watch the door, but Christopher doesn’t appear.  After a minute Eddie catches the faint sound of a toilet flushing and he looks back at Buck.  

And he laughs.  It bubbles up from his chest like champagne fizz, bright and warm and right, and apparently it’s contagious because Buck starts up as well, stepping in again and sliding his arms around Eddie’s waist, ducking his head to laugh breathlessly against Eddie’s neck.

When they calm down, Buck stays close, his lips feathering over Eddie’s pulse.  Eddie hums and closes his eyes as he tips his head back to give Buck better access.  

“I’m in love with you,” he says.  “In case that wasn’t clear.”

Buck’s lips curve up against Eddie’s skin.

“Well that’s convenient,” he replies.  “Since Chris was asking me earlier why you couldn’t just date me if you were going to date again.”

Eddie’s startled into another laugh.  “Really?”

“Really.”

Eddie grins and opens his eyes again.  “Hey Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Go out with me?”

Buck snorts and pushes him out of the way so he can go back to the potatoes.  

“Help me finish getting dinner together and we’ll see.”  But the second Eddie turns away, Buck snags him by a belt loop and reels him back in for another kiss.

“Yes,” Buck says.  “Yes.”

And it’s right.