#fox and the hound first edition

[first-edition]

[notlongtolove]

the fox and her hound

“a fox?” he repeated, and you nodded. “a vixen.” spencer doesn’t understand why you call yourself a fox, not really. so you show him. not all at once, but in pieces, small glimpses of your world that you let him catch—if he can keep up.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff with a pinch of angst

content: a love story told through the allegory of a fox and a hound, mentions of metaphorical wounds

word count: 2k

note: no linked poem bc idk just thought of this and wanted to write it. mayhaps im taking this nature trope a tad too far lol but anyways i will probably come back to edit this.

a line: They don’t see it, do they? The way the fox rolls in the field when she thinks no one’s looking, laughing under her breath as she goes.

On your first date with Spencer, you’d asked him what animal he’d be. He had paused, tilting his head just slightly. He’s never understood why people ask questions like these. What animal? What color? What season? Animals are animals, colors are colors. It would be impossible to pick one to embody his entire being. Such separate realms of nature, totally different worlds, he thinks.

But you’re sitting across from him, head tilted, eyes glinting under dim light. Pretty. So pretty. He doesn’t want to disappoint you, doesn’t want you to think he’s boring or stiff or unfun. He wants to answer correctly, even though he knows there’s no “correct” answer to this.

“Maybe a golden retriever,” he said, trying to keep casual, “or a beagle. Something friendly.”

Something safe, he thinks. Something pretty girls statistically like.

You had smiled then, slow and soft, lifting the glass of whiskey to your lips, you said with all the certainty in the world:

“I’m a fox.”

“A fox?” he repeated, and you nodded.

“A vixen.” 

You didn’t explain it, just swirled your glass like you were swirling the word on your tongue. You loved the taste of it, loved the way it warmed your chest on the way down. Foxes are well-adapted to stay warm. Their thick winter coats, their long, bushy tails. They don’t need anyone to hold them when the frost bites or when the wind howls through the trees.

Spencer doesn’t understand why you call yourself a fox, not really. The dog stays close to the house. He doesn’t stray far, never been anywhere else. He doesn’t know. So you show him. Not all at once, but in pieces, small glimpses of your world that you let him catch—if he can keep up. The forest is dense, you see, the paths are winding and uneven. The shrubbery is thick, sharp branches clawing at the skin. There are logs in the way and the dog stumbles over them sometimes. You wonder if he’s getting tired, if your hidden path is too hard for him to navigate. If the spiders that weave their webs in his face and the fire ants that bite at his ankles are too painful to endure.

So, sometimes, you stop. You sit together on the forest floor, catching your breath. You wag your tails lazily and just talk.

“You know I’d never do anything to hurt you, right?” he asks one evening.

The fox doesn’t answer right away. Her ears twitch, and her eyes flicker toward the trees.

“I don’t like the word never,” she says finally, “It feels like an impossible standard.”

The dog thinks about this, his brow furrowing. “Okay,” he says after a moment. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

“I know,” she replies, her voice soft.

But the fox knows her way through the forest. She knows every twist and turn, every trap hidden beneath the leaves. You tell the dog he’d never catch up, sometimes hiding, sometimes running faster—just to see if he’ll try. Spencer doesn’t tell you how he sees that every time you disappear into the trees, you always turn back. Always looking over your shoulder, always checking to see if he’s still behind you. 

Eventually, you reach your den. Your fur coat is scratched and bruised from the branches and the logs, the forest leaving its marks on you like it always does. But you’re here. He’s here.

Silently, you wonder how many more times you’ll have to make this journey. You don’t think you can endure another. But you don’t say it.

Instead, you take him inside.

Your den is small, cobbled together from dirt and leaves, from twigs and scraps you’ve gathered over the years. You show him your dirt mantle, how you’d packed it tight with earth and how you’d lined with relics of your life. You show him the first flower you ever found, or what’s left of it—a brittle stem, its petals long gone. You tell him the story of the hound who crushed it. 

There’s a feather on the wall, light and fragile, from the first bird you ever caught. You smile as you tell him the story of the chase, how fun it had been to run and run with your foxes until the world blurred around you. Until you were the only one left. In the corner, something glints: A metal buckle, tarnished but unmistakable. From the shoe of the first hunter who’d ever caught you.

You trace your fur with your fingers, telling Spencer your adventures and stories of the traps and the teeth, of the hunters who came with rifles and ropes. The dog sits, listening, understanding. You show him how the edges of your den are marked, too. The walls are carved with notches—five, ten, fifteen. Each one a hunter or hound you’d escaped from. You’re proud, you say, even as you run your hand over the rough lines. They’re proof you survived, that you’ve outwitted them time and time again. Not unwounded, not unbroken, but alive. 

You tell him you’re very proud of yourself.

The dog tilts his head, watching you carefully. He sees the way your voice falters when you recount the stories of cages and leashes, how your tail twitches when you mention the hunters. Spencer thinks the fox is lying.

So, the dog tries to teach the fox his ways.

He clears out your mantle first. He takes down the brittle flower stem, the feather, the tarnished buckle. Then, he takes your paw and shows you how to sniff out the bright pretty toadstools, the ones that make the forest less dark. He shows you the rain puddles, not just for drinking, but for jumping in, for splashing until your laughter scares off the birds.

Together, you fill your den with new relics. Ticket stubs from the village fair, postcards you write but never send, laughter tucked away in secret corners. Kisses, soft and warm, planted like seeds that grow slowly into something that feels like home.

Spencer rubs off the old notches on your walls with the pads of his paws, the dust of their memory falling to the floor. In their place, you make new marks. Not notches, but drawings. A fox curled in the safety of her den. A dog lying beside her, his muzzle resting on his paws.

Night after night, you curl up beneath your mantle, snouts touching, tails tucked beneath you. 

And then winter comes. Now, your walls feel too big for just a lone fox.

You see, the dog always listens to his master. He sits, he fetches, he stays. But always under command, always under the whistle’s call. And when his master calls, he has to go. Tail wagging or tucked low, he goes. 

“You’re hardly ever here anymore,” your voice cuts sharper than you meant it to. 

“Can we please not do this now,” he says almost pleadingly, his jaw tight.

For the first time, in the quiet of your den, the fox feels the cold.

The dog goes. The fox doesn’t follow. She can’t. She doesn’t belong where the dog goes—to places of shiny badges and polished shoes, of clean, carpeted floors and voices that echo off tall, glass walls. So she waits in her den, her fur bristling against the chill, her paws worn from pacing the same patch of dirt.

You try to remind yourself of who you are. A fox, sly, swift, clever. A fox, who doesn’t need to wait for anyone. 

But still, when the forest quiets, you glance toward the trees. You press your ear to the ground, hoping to catch the faintest echo of his steps, the rustle of leaves under his paws. The fox runs her fingers over the edges of the drawings, tracing the uneven lines, patching the spaces in her den where the light and the wind get in with twigs and leaves. She roams the fields, trying to race the clouds again. But she doesn’t think she runs quite as fast without Spencer beside her. She chases her tail like he taught her, spinning in quick circles, but it’s not as fun when she’s alone. She doesn’t try to catch the birds anymore. It doesn’t feel the same.

When Spencer comes back, his coat bruised and worn from his time away, the fox licks his wounds. The scrapes and the scratches, soft and slow, patching his paws with the leaves she’s saved. ​​He carries something in his teeth—a token, a peace offering, a sign that he thought of you while he was away. 

A flower. 

He’d found it near the river, petals still dewy, fragile and bright. He hopes you like it. You do.

You take it from him with careful paws, eyes tracing its delicate form before placing it on your mantle, next to the postcards and ticket stubs, next to the daffodils, peonies, dahlias, irises and all the other flowers he’s found for you over time. You think back to the brittle and dead stem you once kept and wonder if there’s any way to hold onto something that beautiful forever.

Because sometimes even beautiful flowers die.

And when it comes to fight or flight, the fox always runs. They say it’s in her blood, in her very nature to flee. So she bolts. She runs away from the den, away from the mantle and the flowers he’d collected. The fox doesn’t know if she can find flowers quite as beautiful as the ones Spencer has given her.

You don’t need the flowers, you tell yourself. You’ll find a new den, find new birds to catch, rebuild your mantle from scratch, carve new notches in your walls once more. You always do.

But the hound finds you. Bred for hunting. Tracking. Scenting. For knowing where to look and how to catch. Bred for the hunt, he always finds you. Your crouched back, tail down, ready to pounce or bolt if you have to. Every instinct telling you to run, to vanish into the underbrush before he can catch you. 

“Open the door,” a voice calls, low and insistent.

The fox is curled in the corner of this den. It doesn’t hold the warmth of the last.

“I know you’re home.”

She shuts her eyes and digs deeper into the wall.

“Open the door,” he says, voice softening, pleading. “Please.”

The fox exhales, and with a shudder that shakes through her, she reaches out and opens the door. She misses her flowers.

It’s not the chase you expect. No barking, no growling. You bare your teeth. But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch. 

“What do you want?” she asks, claws sharp.

“I want to talk.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Then I’ll stay here until you do.”

And so the fox and the dog sit. They wait and wait then talk and talk. By the time the first rays of the sun creep above the treetops, the fox is laughing again. It’s a sound that is warm and bright, something that makes Spencer’s heart feel a little fuller, a little lighter. He thinks he understands now. 

They don’t see it, do they? The way the fox rolls in the field when she thinks no one’s looking, laughing under her breath as she goes. The way she finds the sunniest patch to lay in and closes her eyes, tail swishing in contentment. They only see the scars and the snarls. They don’t ever see the joy.

“Why don’t you trust me?” he asks, his voice gentle but steady, the kind of tone that makes it clear he already knows the answer.

“I do,” you say quickly, instinctively.

He doesn’t push. He waits.

“I know you don’t,” he says finally, not accusing, just truthful.

You look away, fidgeting with your tail between your legs. “I’m trying,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says again, softer this time, his tail brushing lightly against your side.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: you’re here that’s the thing by beabadoobee tsunami by niki

[spectralreplica]

But do you think the plan will work?

Oumota: tarot reading edition! I had this idea during Oumota Week and just got around to finishing it now 😔. At first I thought about giving Sun to Kaito and Moon to Kokichi (a la Reversed Sun by grayimperia), but I think it works better to have them both in each card, to highlight the parallels. (If you want more explanation of my design thoughts, I'll put it under a cut at the end.)

General tarot meanings:

The Sun: happiness, confidence, success, optimism, innocence/childhood, inspiring others, internal motivation, truth

The Moon: illusion, imagination, uncertainty, secrets, confusion, intuition/the subconscious, fears influencing you, insecurity

The Star: hope, regaining inspiration, renewal, healing, moving on, new purpose, calm after the storm (Reversed Star: despair, lack of faith, pessimism, boredom, anxiety, being overwhelmed by past problems)

.

I feel like while Kaito is naturally more Sun coded and Kokichi more Moon coded, they have some qualities of both cards. And Star vs Reversed Star is so temping to bring in for DR.

I was thinking of it as a past, present, future kind of reading, but also maybe situation, action, outcome. Starting out with high self confidence and some childish black and white thinking. (Maybe a little over confident and childish to the point of egotism and inflexibility, shades of reversed sun...). Covering for insecurities by projecting a fake persona to everyone around, doubling down on the lies and self-deception a la chapter 5. Finally, either coming through everything stronger, with renewed hope, or else crashing and burning, overwhelmed by unacknowledged issues that have built up.

.

As for the specific imagery...

Sun: I stuck pretty close to the traditional imagery here. The flag/banner has their respective prints on it, and I put Kaito on Mars while Kokichi remains on Earth. It's also sundown or sunset for Kokichi; is he moving towards the Moon or away? The horse is obv. very chess piece inspired. Kokichi gets his King Horse a la the mask on his bed, and I gave Kaito a pegasus because flying.

.

Moon: Moving a little bit away from traditional imagery as more of the canon situation seeps in, but still pretty close. The moon floats "outside" the cage, wearing their respective false faces. (We know from the ending that the skyline on those glass panels isn't real...) They both have an Exisal in the background in place of one of the towers, but Kaito has a bamboo grove a la Princess Kaguya; Kaguya came from the moon and she will go back, no matter how much people on Earth love her. Kokichi has one of the racks that sits beside shrines where you're supposed to tie bad/unlucky omikuji (paper fortunes) so that the bad luck doesn't follow you; living in purposeful denial of bad things, but they lurk there on the horizon.

They both still have at least one dog/wolf, but I gave Kokichi a fox because of their association with being tricksters. Also, wolves and foxes, as predators, are framed as villains in stories, but at the same time it's also not uncommon to see them as heroes (stereotype of predator/hunter vs stereotype of bravery/nobility and cleverness). Also, contrast of fox and hound, like the clash of Kokichi presenting himself as childish + annoying vs a genuine threat. Kaito has the dog, monkey, and pheasant that accompanied Momotaro, continuing his fairytale theme.

Everyone seems to argue over what the crawfish means in the original, but I went with the interpretation of moving from water to land, evolution, things coming to the surface. So, Kaito has a koi. I think most people know about the "koi climbs a waterfall and becomes a dragon" thing because of Magikarp, but here it is again just in case! Kaito's got an aquatic creature struggling against its nature in hopes of someday actually transforming into something grander. Kokichi has a poison dart frog. Already amphibious, so it can go between water and land freely, but visibly harmful to anyone who tries to get close.

.

Star: The least traditional imagery and the most V3 canon imagery. There's still a tree, but it's a pine tree. ...I dunno, no explanation for that, it just looked nice 🤷‍♀️The two jugs are replaced with the poison and antidote bottles. Originally, they're supposed to represent the conscious and subconscious and pour in two different places, but here they're mixing together directly. V3 resolves the "truth vs lies" theme by arguing you have to accept ambiguity. Also, Kaito and Kokichi's whole plan rests on them managing to work together to obscure exactly who is in the Exisal in the end.

There's a figure in the foreground in Kaito's jacket, but they're just a silhouette (a la the culprit); it's not either of them, it's both, and they're reaching beyond the bounds of the game. The star in the sky is ringed by the trial podiums, since all of their hope for the future rests in derailing the next trial. Can they win? Well, Shuichi and Kiibo are at the top, the two people they (or at least Kokichi...) know can be problems, but Tsumugi is specifically blocked from view, always overlooked...

[noblehouseofgay]

Marauders era x Disney Songs

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Characters:

Sirius- Just Can't Wait To Be King (Lion King)

Remus- Strangers Like Me (Tarzan)

James- Go the Distance (Hercules)

Regulus- I Won't Say I'm in Love (Hercules)

Barty- Why Should I Worry (Oliver and Company)

Evan- Ev'rybody Wants to be a Cat (Aristocats)

Dorcas- How Far I'll Go (Moana)

Marlene- Real Gone (Cars)

Pandora- Into the Unknown (Frozen 2)

Lily- Belle (Beauty and the Beast)

Mary- Nobody Like U (Turning Red)

Peter- Bare Necessities (Jungle Book)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Pairs:

Black brothers- For the First Time in Forever (Frozen)

Jegulus- Ma Belle Evangeline (Princess and the Frog)

Wolfstar- I See the Light (Tangled)

Rosekiller- Trashin' the Camp (Tarzan)

Pandalily- That's How You Know (Enchanted)

Dorlene- Kiss the Girl (Little Mermaid)

Bartylus- You've Got a Friend in Me (Toy Story)

Moonwater- When Will My Life Begin (Tangled)

Prongsfoot- If I Didn't Have You (Monsters Inc)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Groups:

The Marauders- I've Got a Dream (Tangled)

The Skittles- Be Prepared (Lion King)

The Valkyries- Under the Sea (Little Mermaid)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Characters (angst edition):

Regulus- Mother Knows Best (Tangled)

Sirius- The Best of Friends (Fox and the Hound)

Remus- Pictures in my Head (Muppets)

James- The Next Right Thing (Frozen 2)

Lily- When She Loved Me (Toy Story 2)

Mary- Remember Me (Coco)

[allisluv]

finnick odair who is secretly sensitive when he lets down his walls! after everything he’s been through i feel like he’d be really cold at first but when he starts trusting you and letting you in, he’s actually just a really sensitive person! the hardest thing for him though might be mentoring tributes every year only to lose them, i feel that’d inevitably messes him up but luckily he’s from district 4 which has a high chance of them winning but still.

and modern finnick odair who will cry to a the fox and the hound edit or a video of dogs in a shelter being aggressive because all they’ve known is violence when they just wanted to be loved. (maybe i’m self projecting but)

i feel like finnick can come across as really cold-hearted or really self-absorbed when in reality, hes just trying to protect himself, both from letting himself get hurt and also from getting you hurt, because we all know what snow does to hurt victors. he would be terrified of letting himself fall for you and then having you ripped away from him in such a brutal way. hes such a damn sweetheart when you get to know him though and he appreciates the fact that you didn't give up on him when he was trying to push you away. modern!finnick one thousand percent cries to those adoption videos and shelter videos, too. like, he is sobbing.

[monsterfuckerpavetta]

By random chance today I discovered that the original Fox and the Hound novel by Daniel P Mannix is returning to print later this year. Pre-Order is available on Amazon and Thriftbooks and I am absolutely going insane with excitement.

I could not find a SINGLE article or publication talking about this and I had to spread the word.

The 1967 novel only saw two editions ever printed, a paper back and a hardback. There was also a condensed version printed in an edition of Reader’s Digest but after the rights were bought by Disney it was out of print. There is a digital copy available but other than that it’s been unavailable for purchase for nearly 60 years. The only copies available have been through second hand sellers and those almost always are anywhere from $150 to $1000.

The fact that it is finally returning to print is huge. Mannix’s work was highly praised upon its release and awarded multiple times over. It is an outstanding piece of work and I’m so thrilled it will be available once again.

I own the reader’s digest condensed version but I have never been able to afford a first or second edition. While I still dream of owning one, I am excited to be able to have a physical copy later this year.

On August 19th will return to shelves for the first time in 58 years.

Pre-Order on Thrift Books and Amazon !

[defect-child-of-eros]

Hi! I'm Gracie Monroe, I'm 15. My birthday is October 31st, I'm a Halloween baby!

Description: Tan skin, brown hair, brown eyes. Loves to layer her clothes. Wears mushroom or frog earrings usually mushroom and has a pet frog named Samuel. She has wings. Her hair meets her shoulders in a layered bob, her hair is still pretty thick but not fully thanks to the layers. Wears black gloves that Sunny gave her. She also has a messenger bag but it's full of some of the most random things pranking supplies, tissues, fidgets, secret cell phone and speaker, water bottle, a book, a note book, pencil case, etc. And has a scar along one side of her face and her eye with the scar has a cloudy pupil and is blind in that eye, she also has scars along her side.

Backstory: she's only been at camp for like a few weeks but the whole reason she's at camp is because her mom was killed. She had stayed home that day because she was really sick and it ended up in a hell hound attacking her house and because she wasn't strong enough to get up and fight she had to watch as her mother fought and kill the hell hound (her mother was a child of Athena) while she also resulted in dying to. The last thing she had told Gracie was to make sure she went to a camp called camp half blood and the rest of the information she'd need would be in her home office. She had followed exactly her mother said, searched the office, found what she needed and came to camp. She also is a pretty good fighter because her mom had taught her how.

Abilities: She's a daughter of Eros, and legacy of Athena, but instead of being able to make people fall in love she can make people fall out of it and hate each other. But when she loves someone the ability doesn't affect them, the only person she's ever been able to touch without the powers affecting them was her mom because she loved her mom so much and her mom loved her back. Also idk if this is an ability but she can use electronics without it becoming a becon showing monsters where she is. She's really good at archery. Also she is super flexible.

Personality: She's very outgoing but is very awkward.

Likes: She loves hugs. She doesn't do pranks herself but she has a huge stash of things that can be used for pranks. Well she claims she doesn't do pranks but she does do mischief so be warned not to get on her bad side. Also loves dancing, doesn't dance in front of or with others often but still dances in private. Is also really good at art (specifically body art). She also has a secret stuffed toy cat that's a calico cat named Callie, the cat is one of her comfort items that she brings with her everywhere.

Dislikes: people who are mean and Hellhounds

Will be edited as needed

Relationships:

@sunny-child-of-apollo (personal night light and girlfriend)

@the-young-prankster ("Adopted " Daughter)

@the-young-helios-kid (Kind of her daughter because Sunny adopted her)

@annoying-child-of-love-god (Little brother)

@change-and-flourish (half siblings except Mazi is a God)

@dreamers-daughter (friends)

@nightmares-again (friends)

@thatposidengirly (friends)

@the-song-siren (friend)

@spawn-of-dionysus (friends)

@lorelei-leslie-lee (Friends)

@unlicensed-field-medic (girlfriends brother)

@spiderboichildofathena (friends)

@daughter-of-pasithea (friends)

@solar-flares-and-fox-snares (friends)

@the-great-emperor-commodus (basically her dad just waiting for the knife officially)

@fightingthetoxicallegations (Friends and almost siblings just gotta get the knife from Commodus)

@littlest-sunbeam-of-hermes (friends)

@the-first-eros (Dad she won't call him to his face but he's her dad)

Talking: she talks in blue

(OOC: fyi I literally have no social life because all my friends I prefer hanging out with live in a different state than me so I kind of am chronically online so I will most likely always respond immediately if I'm not doing something at that moment)

[polarisblitzwing]

FRI3NDSFOR3VER AU (Part 2)

Little 5 year old Ford and Bill! ✨️

In this AU, these two met about five months before this moment, by them both attempting interdimensional dreamwalking and their powers reaching out to each other by chance :]

Posting the parts of the AU in order of what feels narratively important for the next parts (potentially, if my motivation keeps up! ^^)

Audio: "Fox and the Hound" movie (Copper's lines edited by me)

Here is the first part ~

[gwaedhannen]

Dispossessed

They don’t drift apart so much as never coagulate again.

Celegorm vanishes into the deep woods as hastily as he can manage, before the shock of his Return (“Him first? Of all of them!?”) fully ebbs; if the hounds of Oromë howl in strange voices, they have always been a little wild.

Caranthir builds a house on a quiet hillside, and counts naught but the stitches in his tapestries; he has not ceased to weave since with the first thread he closed his harsh mouth for ever.

Curufin lifts a hammer once—and sees only shattered fingers upon the anvil.

Maedhros lies at the feet of Mercy Undeserved until he remembers how to cry again, then dons a dark veil of his own, padding through the halls of Fui to lend what tears he may, unnumbered as they are.

Ambarussa are never seen again—not directly; a lick of flame, trembling leaves, a fox’s scream; at the edge of perception, copper entwines with fate, glimmering beyond reach.

Maglor returns with pride tempered but unquenched, with a tongue tired of laments, with many deeds of selfless kindness ready for praise, with expectations—and finds ashes, and a land long moved on.

Edit: now on AO3 with some slight changes: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53245837

[we-were-beautiful]

Guys, I forgot to post this up here last night once I finished up the edits that needed to be made. But I did a thing. This is the first long fanfiction I have decided to write since I abandoned my first fanfic that was about 90k words. This ended up being 9k words after editing. And I cut about a thousand words before my beta reader went over it.

If you like Fourth Wing you might like this. It is a Xaden Riorson X Melgren!OC fic in which Autumn our leading lady makes her way through all the shenanigans at Basgiath. I really suck at writing summaries; I know I need to work on that.

Also a huge thank you to my lovely Beta for this story @danikasthings. They are a god send and extremely wonderful to work with.

The next little project I am working on is Part 5 of The Fox and The Hounds. Which I am currently trying to figure out how to connect the scene I have currently worked out. I’m shooting to have that one finished up by Sunday and off to the Beta Reader by Monday but I make no promises.

[albinofetus]

Happy official 18th anniversary to Bambi II! It came out in VHS and DVD on February 7th, 2006! It's an interquel to Bambi right after his mother's death, and it's about Bambi developing a relationship with The Great Prince! It featured the voice talents of Alexander Gould (Nemo) as Bambi, Patrick Stewart (Charles Xavier and Picard) as The Great Prince, Brendon Baerg as Thumper, Nicky Jones (Chowder) as Flower and Andrea Bowen as Faline! It contains Disney's Fast Play, previews for Lady and the Tramp Special Edition for the first time ever on 2-Disc Special Edition DVD February 28th, 2006, Disney's Movie Surfers featuring The Wild and The Shaggy Dog (2006), both are coming to theaters soon, Brother Bear 2 coming to Disney DVD August 29th, 2006, Air Buddies coming soon to Disney DVD, The Fox and the Hound 2 coming to Disney DVD December 12th, 2006, Pooh's Grand Adventure: The Search for Christopher Robin for the first time ever on Disney DVD April 11th, 2006, Leroy & Stitch coming to Disney DVD June 27th, 2006 and the promo for Jojo's Circus on Playhouse Disney!

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for chapter- 18+ words and themes overall, cussing, mention of death, mention of sandors death, joss and Podrick being cutie pies,

// A/N: just wanted to apologize for the broken links at the beginning of the book since i changed my username they haven’t been working but i assure you I’ll get to fixing them. I will also end up making a goggle docs with the entire book for downloading when this series ends//

Previous chapter here

Chapter 22

You hold your son in your arms walking around the room as you rock him and hum too him. He coos in your arms he holds onto your finger. You smile down at his little face admiring his feature yet to come in your excited to see him grow into his fathers looks. 

There’s a knock on your door. 

“Enter.” You say the door opens and joss enters. 

“Your grace.” You says bowing slightly. You smile at his persistence to come in and check up on you once in a while. Its been just over a month since you gave birth to Joss, and the recovery has gone smoothly and being fully healed your back to doing the normal things relatively. 

“The lady Sansa is looking for you. She’s by the wearwood.” He speaks 

“thank you. Ill be right out. Leave the door open” You say he nods and exits leaving it open as per your request. He dosnt leave he just merely stands to the side to wait for you. with your newfound talent of doing things one handed you lay out the fur blanket on the bed before laying your son on top. 

You turn and pull on your cloak and gloves before going back to your son. You swaddle him in the furs before pulling him back into your arms and heading out holding him close to you and walking out to find Sansa joss follows close behind you as usual. 

“Joss?” You ask him on your way over. 

“Yes?” He asks 

“may i task you with something this evening?” You ask.

”of course your grace.” he answers. 

“Will you go into the town and fetch some new furs as he grows i will need more.” You say. 

“Of course your grace.” He says and smiles before trailing away from your side to the stables to collect a horse for his ride. 

————

You see Sansa red hair before herself. 

“Sansa.” You call. She turns around to face you her face lighting up as she sees you holding joss in your arms. she holds out her arms asking for permission to take a hold of him and you happily ablidge as you both move to the stone carved bench and take a seat. 

“You were searching for me?” You ask her once seated. 

”ah yes. John sent word through raven about the success with the dragon queen. She will be joining us in the next coming months, John will be arriving home soon to prepare…and he says he’s bringing a friend.” She says breathlessly. 

“You dont sound pleased to have another royal arrive.” You say she chuckles and shakes her head. 

“Her father was the mad king…shes a targaryen they are, to say the least, the more so crazy of the rich royal families.” She speaks bouncing joss slightly. you snort at her rude comment. 

“Do you think she actually has dragons?” You ask she nods. 

“John drew a picture.” She says about the ravens scroll that was sent. You nod and sigh looking at the tree. 

“May i ask you something?” She asks. 

“Hmm?” You answer mindlessly. 

“Do…hm..” she trails off thinking on how she wants to word the topic that could either piss you off or make you cry. 

“When…you look at, joss…” She says signalling to your son and not the squire. 

“…is there any part of you that may have resentment, or pain for the death of sandor?” She asks. You sigh and look at her. 

“No..i miss my husband dearly and every night wish that he were still here to see his son grow but..i have a part of him and i'm grateful for that. Although I do sometimes remind him of how much pain he caused me. When he’s king I hope he goes out of this world just as stubborn as he wanted to come into it…with a fight.” You smile looking at your sons blushed face as he sleeps in Sansa’s arms. 

“I wish to have a babe of my own, whether it is born from me, or im to come upon one that needs care.” She says and smiles. 

“I would’ve liked to give joss a brother so he’s never lonely but I refuse to give myself to another man. when the time comes i want to visit the orphanage.” You say. Sansa smiles and looks to you. 

“I shall join you and we can give two children the rightful home they deserve.” She says happily you nod, brushing your finger against your sons cheek. 

“Speaking of…joss. Where is he. It seems he never leaves your side.” Sansa jokes. 

“Ugh can you believe it? I sent him away to get more furs but i know he’s going to have a hard time determining which length or color to pick.” You say as Sansa hands your son back to you before you both get up deciding to head back into the halls to warm up. 

————

Standing in the shop joss looks at the furs just a suspected he struggles with choosing the type of furs asking the store clerk a thousand different question about them. The front bell attached above the door rings making Joss double take at the arrival of the other squire sent out. 

“Joss.” Podrick speaks enthusiastically as he sees his fellow looking frantically at the selection the clerk has shown. 

“H-hello.” Joss gets out before running his fingers through the furs now testing the feel once deciding on the color, granted it should’ve been the first thing he does as now he regrets choosing the type and he begins the process all over again. 

“What are you doing?” Podrick asks. 

“H-her grace has asked me to gather furs for the next coming years for the little prince but i dont know if she sent me away to torture me for I cannot choose the best.” He huffs. 

“For now he is a baby no bigger than forearm so he will only need long furs for the next 2 years and the life spans of furs is four. Six if taken care of properly. So you can get him 2 of the long gray. It has soft enough fibers that it will not cause irritation and prevent choking for the prince. You cal buy six other pertaining the length as as he grows older they are most likely to be worn as a cape to there's no need for a backing it can stay as the Hyde, also better for insulation.” Podrick educates your squire as well as telling the store clerk what is to be bought. 

“When have you become an expert on furs?” Joss asks genuinely although it sounds more like a mock. Podrick scoffs. 

“My time spent with Tyrion lannesister wasn’t just golden roofs and armor plating, i took his orders and lists and he had a collection of fine furs.” Podrick answers. 

“I apologize i mean no ill intent for my question it was genuinely a skill i need to learn for her grace.” Joss replies reassuring. He pays the correct amount for the fur selections of one of the guards that went with him taking some in his hold as theres quite a few. Podrick quickly grabs the fur hes chosen an pays before following joss outwards. 

“I could… teach you if you’d like about the difference in fine things.” Pod offers. 

“Take these back her grace I will be alright.” Joss instructs the guard you puts the furs in the saddle bags of his horse before nodding, mounting and riding off. 

“I would enjoy that very much.” Joss says looking at podrick who puts the single fur pelt under his arm smiling back at the other. 

————

“I was a soldier once. All my superiors thought I was brave…I wasn’t. I mean i never ran from a fight, only because I didn’t want to see who i thought were my friends to see me a coward. And no matter the orders I would do them without a blink. Burn that village im your arsonist, steal from the village, fine im your thief, kill those boys, i'm your murder.” Everyone sits around as Brother ray speaks out on the past he wishes to re-write. He takes a seat looking at everyone who’s listening, including sandor. 

“I went to a village, much like the one we are building, and slaughtered those within, I heard a boy away from his mother as i slit his throat. That night the screams of the mother calling out for her son haunted me. And they still do to this way. And will so for the rest of my life.” He sighs standing up once more. 

“We cannot undo what was done in our past, however we can mold our future to be braver, better, happier, kinder. We can use our wits and our strength for the goodness of our next life.” Brother ray speaks looking directly to sandor. 

Before he begins to speak again the sound of horse hooves trods closer allowing the view of three men to ride up to the group as everyone stands. 

“Good Morrow friends.” He speaks. 

“Whats your business here?” The one in the middle asks looking around at everyone. 

“Building a new civilization my lord.” Ray answers. The man chuckles lowly before speaking again. 

“Have you any more spots? Or steel?” He asks. 

“We are welcome to anyone who wants to help with the thrive, but we’ve no gold, no steel. Your welcome to join us for supper however we’ve many hungers mouths here.” Rays continues to answer kindly. 

The man takes another look at the small crowd before backing his horse up a it. 

“Stay safe then. The night is dark and full of terrors.” He speaks before nodding to the other men. 

“Seven save you friends.” ray replies before the three men turn and ride off. Ray turns to the crowd taking a breath reassuring everyone. 

“Now then let us do some more work and supper shall be prepared.” He smiles. Sandor continues to look at the men who ride off recognizing the symbol in the chest plate. Ray gives him a look before sandor turns and heads back off to his station of chopping wood since he's the strongest and does not tire easily. Brother ray however does not go to his of supervising, he follows sandor watching him pick up the axe and begin easily splitting the large logs. 

Sandor stops a second before turning his head seeing ray walking to him. He scoffs rolling his eyes. 

“Seven blessings, fuck that.” sandor huffs as he goes back to splitting logs. 

“Im a fucking septon what was i supposed to say?” brother ray sighs back to sandor. 

“They dont believe in your seven god shit, theyre from the brotherhood, they serve the redgod…Fucking cunts.” sandor says putting down the axe breifly to talk to ray. 

“Anyway weve got nothing for them.” ray speaks, sandor scoffs at his comment. 

“Sure you do…youve got food, you’ve got steel, even if you say you don't, and you've got women, a man like that whos been out on horse back for long enough is gonna want a women no matter the cost.” sandor retorts back to brother ray. 

“Not you? Youre a man, youre around women?” ray suggests. 

“No not me. I dont need another woman.” he huffs turing back around and picking up the axe once more. Brother ray walks around sandor to face him to continue the conversation. 

“Another? Hm?” ray prods at sandor for mentioning the slightest of you. Sandor huffs and continues to chop. 

“When i found you i thought youd been dead for days. When you were stinking already and covered in bugs, and bone was coming through your leg right there. But youre all healed up apart from the little limp.” brother ray chuckles as sandor looks up at him stopping his chopping yet again for a moment to talk. 

“I was gonna give you a proper burial but the you coughed, Ha, nearly shit myself…i thought, you would die by the time i got you back here, but by that time you didnt. And i reckoned you’d die a dozen more times over those next few days but you didnt…what was it that kept you going?” ray asks. Sandor glances at the ground for a second before taking a breath and letting it out in a sigh. 

“What is her? ‘The Woman’?” ray asks once more. 

“Shes pregnant, with mine, might have given birth by now its been about a year. I made her a promise that i would come back, find her. And i would like to keep it.” he says looking brother ray in the eyes for once. Brother ray nods and walks around sandor beginning his walk back to the village area. 

“Come on now get some supper.” he says. 

Sandor picks up the axe and begins swinging once more. 

“It’s gonna be a cold night. You’ll need firewood.” sandor says chopping and splitting the wood. 

“Ill save you a bowl. Might even have some ale hidden away” ray smiles to sandor before hading back to the village plot. Sandor chuckles and continues chopping although his math is slightly off and with in the next new chops he’ll have to go into the forest for a moment to collect more.

Next chapter here

TAGLIST. If you’d like to be added to the tag list please leave a comment down below.

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[kylesvariouslistsandstuff]

Disney logo minutiae mystery time... Because that's just what I sometimes do:

YouTuber Cassavetesforaday recently uploaded the opening seconds of a 35mm (!!) print of THE JUNGLE BOOK, from its 1978 theatrical re-release. Complete with a blue MPAA rating card that preceded the opening credits in theaters...

Soooo... What's the mystery here?

Well, depending on which home video edition of THE JUNGLE BOOK you have... That's not the correct Buena Vista title card.

That card is the standard blue gradient one that Disney used for several films up until late 1966, though it did make occasional appearances on random films and titles afterwards, such as THE LOVE BUG (1968) and THE BOATNIKS (1970).

The 2007 DVD of THE JUNGLE BOOK, and the 2014 release, all subsequent prints... Open with the 1966-1979 standard BV card.

The font for "Distributed By" and "Distribution Co., Inc." are a serif font in the later logo, as opposed to the more loose-looking sans-serif letterforms of the pre-1966 logo. That's the easy way you can tell the difference between that logo and the pre-1966 one. The 1966-1979 logo is also often brighter-looking and more greenish/turquoise-y.

(Side note: Disney did use the 1966-79 logo one last time after 1979, for THE FOX AND THE HOUND in 1981. I guess to keep it consistent with the other then-recent animated films? RESCUERS was the previous film in the line-up, released in 1977.)

This 1966-79 logo actually appears on the demo VHS of the film's 1991 home video release - the first ever video release of the movie. The actual 1991 VHS release, the 1992 LaserDisc, and the 1997 VHS and LaserDisc don't have any BV logo whatsoever.

The 1999 DVD uses the BV that you see in the film print... It is the only home video release of the film, at least in the West, to do so.

But because the lighter serif font logo was on the 1991 demo VHS, I always assumed that the 1999 DVD release made a flub by using the pre-'66 BV card... Thus the later releases of the film use the one present on the demo VHS...

I guess not?

The only way I myself could tell is if I time traveled and caught THE JUNGLE BOOK in theaters in October 1967. That was, of course, almost a year after Disney began using the serif BV card. That first appeared on a live-action film of theirs called FOLLOW ME, BOYS! That was released in December 1966. Mere days before Walt's passing, may I add.

Some of the other 1967 Disney films... MONKEYS, GO HOME! and CHARLIE THE LONESOME COUGAR (JUNGLE BOOK's double-bill picture) use the 1966-79 logo. The outliers are THE ADVENTURES OF BULLWHIP GRIFFIN, which uses a custom stylized BV card, THE GNOME-MOBILE, and THE HAPPIEST MILLIONAIRE...

By 1968-69, most of the films and even some re-issues of older RKO-era titles used the then-new distributor card.

And it's fascinating to me that it's kind of unclear now what logo the original 1967 release print of THE JUNGLE BOOK actually used.

Maybe two prints with different logos were somehow created, one w/ a pre-1966 BV and another w/ a 1966-79 BV... Or one of the re-issues swapped logos... Usually that's not a thing with classic Disney films that were released between 1954 and 1979. (One exception I can think of off the top of my head is BLACKBEARD'S GHOST, whose video releases up until 2016 often used the 1979-84 BV card, despite being a 1968 movie w/ only one U.S. re-issue prior to that logo being created.)

And certainly not one of the animated features, for that matter. Maybe JUNGLE BOOK's closeness to the introduction of the then-new serif BV logo is why that may be? Maybe the serif BV was actually from an international print that somehow made its way onto a demo VHS and all the current home video editions?

The film print Cassavetesforaday uploaded would seem to indicate that the 1991 demo tape and the 2007/2014 disc releases were a plaster job, and that THE JUNGLE BOOK originally opened w/ the pre-1966 card. Maybe!

Who knows! But now I have this information, and I did something with it lol.

[fritzes]

nobody asked yet so jannik!!

well all you gotta do is go through my many many jannik edits haha. my jannik song will always be talk by coldplay, and jannik with that song was the first edit I ever made so it'll always feel a little special. maybe I'll make an updated version with everything that's happened this season (but no uso. because. y'know)

also, I gotta mention young volcanoes by fall out boy just for the line "tonight the foxes hunt the hounds"

[birboon]

CIRCUS BOY

ACT 1 - Chapter One

PAIRING: Peter Parker x Dick Grayson

WORD COUNT: ~4k

ㅤㅤㅤDICK GRAYSON ADORED the spotlight. How could he not? It was what he'd grown up with. The tabloids had gone crazy when Bruce Wayne first took the newly orphaned boy beneath his wings, irrationally conservative newspapers sprouting unsavoury rumours on the 'truth' of his adoption. Coupled with some scarily intimate knowledge of the twelve-year old's life that journalists had no place in revealing, it made for a spectacle. But that's what came with being the ward of America's most eligible bachelor.

And having spent his earlier teenage years pent up inside to avoid the stalkers and paparazzi being thrown from the grounds of Wayne Manor, Dick relished in the attention. Mostly. The excitement had calmed down as he got older, but the public's interest never did: The gaggle of people gathered on the private landing slip awaiting his and Bruce's arrival proved just that. No doubt they were waiting for some fiasco, a slip up; the flash of the brilliant Wayne smile that the young Grayson had taught himself by copying Bruce to go with a quick scoop for the celebrity columns.

How they'd caught wind of their trip to Washington was beyond him, though. He'd kept it tightly under wraps but apparently modern media was the force that refused to quit. Dick's idea to visit the nation's capital had been a home run in his mind – a couple days away from the gloom and doom of Gotham that just so happened to coincide with his own agenda. He was there for a photoshoot: Teen vogue had been overflowing Bruce's spam with pleads for Dick to be on the cover of their Summer Edition and after a while he had tiredly given up ignoring them.

Of course, Dick had been the one to give the company his email. But what the man didn't know couldn't hurt him.

And, pure happenstance (though some weaseling with Lucius Fox didn't go awry), their little trip to D.C clashed with the grand opening of the new Wayne Enterprises' Washington office. Let Alfred never say Dick never did anything for him. Bruce Wayne was about due another public scandal. In hindsight... maybe it wasn't so hard to anticipate their coming here.

"I still don't see the point in me being here," Bruce grumbled as he straightened his cuffs, peering tiredly towards Dick. The jet lurched as it touched down on the airstrip and the boy grinned easily back at him, fingers gripping the leather arm-rests.

"It's your company, Bruce! The tower's been built with your money and your company's name plastered all over it," Dick condescended. "Which means you need to be there."

The man snorted, muscles shifting beneath his tailored suit as he stretched in his seat. "You're evil, conspiring with Alfred against me."

The boy kicked him indelicately in the shin, fishing a shiny phone from the pocket of his jeans: "It's hardly conspiring if we're both in on it. Here, hold still – I told Alf I'd let him know when we landed." He held the device up towards Bruce, tongue poking from his lips as he captured the man's confused glance in high definition.

"That's exactly what conspiring means, Dick," he said, a gentle frown gracing his handsome face as he watched the boy's rapid thumbs tap out a reply to one of their dear butler's sarcastic quips. "Is that Snapchat? How are you typing so quickly?"

"Do you know how old you just sounded?" the teen chortled, snapping another picture of the man's blank face.

"I'm only thirty."

"That's a poor argument," Dick replied, ducking his head as Bruce reached forward to comb through his dark locks roughly. He chanced a peek through one of the jet's windows, eyeing the bustling crowd poised and waiting outside. Bruce followed his gaze, and Dick watched the slight narrowing of his eyes, the tightening of his shoulders. He stared into the man's outwardly impassive face. "Relax, B. It's just reporters."

"You know just once I'd like to go somewhere and not be hounded," Bruce complained, features taut, and Dick took a mental note of the irritation in his voice. The teen shrugged, releasing his seatbelt. He tilted forward, tugging on the billionaire's tie with a charming grin as he spun into the aisle.

"what did you think this was gonna be? A vacation?" Dick asked jokingly, observing the careful adjustment of the patterned fabric. Bruce cast him a sharp look, a warning, sapphire eyes shadowed. Dick frowned. "I mean, it could be if you wanted –"

"We don't have time for a vacation," Bruce said, voice carefully guarded, and the teen's fingers twitched for something to do as he watched the man perfect his appearance. The billionaire smoothed out the invisible creases in his blazer before rising to his feet.

"I wouldn't mind, y'know. Spending some time together... away from it all."

"Gotham needs us. Like I said, we don't have the time," came the resounding sigh, and Dick's frown deepened further.

"We could make time," he insisted steadily, creeping forward. Bruce shook his head, hunching his shoulders to get a clearer view through the port windows of the bobbing heads gathered just beyond. "Batman could afford a day off and- you need to get away. Maybe the league –"

"The league has strict instructions to stay out of my city, Dick. The less meta-humans seen there, the better."

"Okay, then Ollie! He's like us, he could cover for a few days and we'd be back before you eve-"

"No," Bruce growled, turning towards his ward. He had that look in his eyes, the one he always got when his mind was made up. Dick's face mirrored his guardian's, stern and protected from any clear emotion.

"But Bruce –"

"I said no, Dick!"

The boy stared at him. At the faint rings beneath his eyes, covered by layers of make-up, at the slump in his shoulders and the slight preference he had for his right leg. Their life – their real life – was eating the man alive. Dick was tempted to retort, spit something mean to get his point across and scold the man just like Alfred would. But it would be too obvious to the press that they'd argued on the plane, and they couldn't risk the coverage.

"You should have gone with the teal," he said finally, words emotionless, and Bruce flinched ever so slightly. He gestured to the man's tie: "Red washes you out."

The Wayne pursed his mouth, meaning to reply, and the deep-set guilt in his eyes was setting Dick on edge for one of his 'you have to understand' speeches – as if the boy didn't get it. Like he was still the sniveling child Bruce had first knelt beside in the blood-soaked sands of the circus ring. "Dick, please –"

"Mister Wayne?" someone interjected softly. A pretty woman with cropped brown hair approached them gingerly, almost tiptoeing on eggshells as she made her way from the crew's quarters at the back of the cabin. Bruce's mouth snapped shut instantly. "The pilot says we're ready to disembark."

"My dear your timing is impeccable," came the man's guttural reply moments later. He winked playfully towards the hostess, eliciting a confused blush on the woman's face. "My hero."

"Let's just get this over with," Dick sighed, folding his arms across his chest as the two of them watched the blonde walk away. There was a sway in her step that hadn't been there before and he sniffed resolutely.

"You'll have to save me again sometime," Bruce called after her.

"And what, exactly, did she save you from?" Dick hissed. "Finally expressing your emotions?"

Bruce turned his attention to his ward, crystal eyes glittering. The switch between his personas was seamless, as usual. Dick always hated it; Brucie Wayne was the biggest pain in the ass imaginable. The teen held up a hand to silence the playboy immediately upon seeing the corners of his mouth twitch into a tricky smile.

"I'm not done. This - " he gestured between the two of them irritably. " - is not done. Don't think you can hide behind the idiot to escape me."

"Dickie, I could never hide behind you, you're far too small."

Dick Grimaced, drawing back against the velvet interior at the lop-sided grin sent his way. The socialite's mask was plastered firmly on. "You know what? Let's put a pin in this conversation," he muttered, spying the way Bruce's eyes lit up with the knowledge that he'd won. For now. "How about we give the public a surprise? Let's arrive fashionably early for once."

ㅤㅤㅤ

DICK COULD SENSE Bruce was mad at him, and a mad Batman in a confined space was trouble. Especially when you were trapped with him for the next seven miles.

The conversation on the plane had rattled the man. It was almost as if he didn't think the boy would notice that he was trying to work himself to an early grave. Dick had half a mind to turn their visit to Washington into the vacation Bruce was so scared of just to spite the man...

It may also have something to do with what Dick had dubbed the 'interview incident'. The newest scandal in a long line of similar mistakes the teen had made.

The original meeting had happened so long ago that he'd forgotten all about it - until one of the reporters that greeted them on the airfield brought it up again, thrusting Dick back into the unfortunate limelight: An interview with some moderately popular internet blogger had asked after some of the Wayne heir's hobbies, and it was safe to say they'd been satisfied.

The perfectly executed anecdote on 'that time he'd gone spelunking in South Africa' had seemed funny at the time, but now it was back to haunt them in all it's glory because Dick had tried to see the venomous sparkling in the interviewer's eyes as admiration rather than execration.

The blog just had to resurface now, didn't it?

Bruce was on his phone, sat at the opposite end of the limousine to Dick, scowling as he always did when reading the articles that the teen was involved in:

' 𝙱𝚁𝚄𝙲𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚈𝙽𝙴 𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙻𝙸𝙵𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷 𝚁𝙸𝙳𝙸𝙲𝚄𝙻𝙾𝚄𝚂 '𝚂𝙿𝙾𝚁𝚃' '

"What were you thinking?" the man asked, exasperated. Dick slid down into his seat, looking away as Bruce threw his top of the range WayneTech mobile harshly onto the leather beside him. His eyes burned into Dick's head from across the way. "'My harness broke, it's lucky Bruce was there to catch me'? Really, Dick? I'm already deemed irresponsible enough, there's no need to rekindle a raging fire."

Dick winced, rubbing his thumb along the grooves of the plush seats awkwardly. "It makes you sound like a hero?"

"Bruce Wayne isn't a hero."

"He is to me," Dick asserted, chancing a glance up through his eyelashes to spot Bruce running a hand over his face. "What?"

Bruce let out a disgruntled growl, levelling the boy with a dangerous stare. "I'm not a good role model, Dick. We've established this."

"No, you established it. I can't help thinking you're cool."

"Oh for the love of - can you stop? What's wrong with you today, Dick?" the man demanded, brows furrowed. He looked furious, but Dick wasn't so sure the anger was directed towards him.

"Jeeze, Bruce, I don't know! Maybe it's just hard to watch someone you care about suffer," the teen snapped, gritting his teeth. Blue eyes widened momentarily, a splash of light quickly drowned. Bruce shook his head.

"If you're struggling with your duties as Robin, I can -"

"God, are you even listening to me?" Dick cried, aghast. "I'm worried about you, Bruce. We all are, hell even Clark said -"

"You've been speaking to Clark?"

"That's not the point! Everyone's worried about you Bruce. Alfred, Babs, Me, the League - you need a break from being in the dark all the time."

"So you arranged this trip?" Bruce concluded, settling back against his head rest. Coal black locks brushed against the roof of the limo. Dick nodded unsurely as the tension in the car reached it's breaking point. "I should have seen this coming."

The boy chose not to reply, instead observing the minute changes in his guardian's expression as he collected the facts in his head. Why it was so hard for Bruce to understand that there were people out there who loved him, Dick didn't understand.

He played with the thin gold chain hanging around his neck, an R-shaped pendant dangling from the end: Bruce had given it to him when Dick first came to live at the Manor. Had said it was in his father's possession when he'd died - an early birthday present they'd intended to give his son after the show.

"You know," Dick began in an effort to break the strangling silence threatening to overcome the vehicle. "Spelunking gives a pretty good excuse for the bruise on my back."

"What bruise?" Bruce asked, eyes snapping to his ward. Dick shrugged, focusing on pulling the rest of his shirt free from his jeans. Having it tucked in was so last season.

"From where that guy got the drop on me a couple days ago. By the harbour?" the boy continued, feeling the palpable stress in his veins begin to release at Bruce's willingness to move towards a different topic. "I think they were one of Penguin's."

"You never mentioned any injuries that night."

"I talked about it in the mission's write-up, I swear. I described it as 'disturbingly floral'!"

"Floral?" Bruce muttered, amused. He ran a hand vapidly through his dark hair. "I think I'd remember reading that one."

"Barbara probably deleted it to get me in trouble," the teen hummed non-committedly, gaze trailing towards the system's electronics piled beside the car's windows. "Hey, what'dya think these do?"

Bruce watched him carefully, a single eyebrow raised dramatically. "Don't break anything I'll have to pay for."

"Poor you, how could you cope?" Dick snickered, unbuckling himself so he could investigate the mismatch of buttons with a new-found fascination. Bruce grunted disapprovingly.

The Grayson boy was automatically drawn to the largest switch, one with a suspect symbol plastered atop, and he instinctively pushed it. A miniature disco ball descended from a hatch hidden in the roof, sending blinding orbs of light into Bruce's eyes as it reflected the pink and purple strobe LEDs accompanying it. The billionaire squinted, shielding his eyes and sending Dick a vexed glance as the boy let out a relived breath. He grinned haplessly towards his guardian: "Oh thank god. I thought it might've been an orgy button."

Blue eyes dulled with parental fear, though Bruce's lips couldn't quite seem to decide whether they wanted to grin or stay stern and resolute. "Don't use words you don't know the meaning of," he chided, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards ever so slightly.

"I know what it means," Dick reassured, grinning immaturely as Bruce's face twisted into horror-struck regret. "It's when a bunch of people get naked and -"

"Alright that's enough of that," the man admonished, and just like that their previous argument was all but forgiven and forgotten. He leaned over to turn the switch off and the disco ball receded, lights evaporating into a boring white glow. Dick laughed brightly, copying the look of disbelief on Bruce's face.

The billionaire took a sip from the champagne flute in his hands - diet ginger beer, Dick could smell it - lifting it away from his lap as the limousine sped downtown, the wheels squealing at a sharp right corner. Bruce was watching Dick through carefully narrowed eyes, a mixture of peaceful alarm making its way across his face as the boy opened his mouth to speak again:

"Have you ever had an orgy?" Dick asked. There was a beat between his words and Bruce's reply as the man swallowed back the rest of his carbonated drink. The silence spoke volumes.

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to, buddy," the man said carelessly. Dick wrinkled his nose as he caught wind of the guilt in the his disapproving stare, cheeks flaring up. Bruce's deep laugh rung in his ears as he turned his head away, unable to keep looking at the man. "You'd make a terrible journalist."

"I'd still be better than Clark," said Dick nonchalantly and Bruce smiled gently. The teen stared out of the blacked-out windows watching the world blur past, tinted in shadow.

"Still better than Clark," he agreed lightly. Dick threw him a contagious smile as the car began to slow, pulling up in front of a tall corporation building. Bruce returned it wearily, checking his watch as the engine rattled to extinction.

Dick crawled along the seats towards his mentor, throwing himself onto the man in an awkwardly positioned embrace. One arm was slung around the billionaire's shoulders, the other hanging limply off the edge of the chair, and Bruce let out a breath of surprise as he rested a hand between the boy's shoulder blades.

"This is my stop, B," the teen drew back with a grin, squeezing the man on the shoulder. "I'll see you later."

"Have fun, Dick."

"Without you?" the teen replied as the door slid open. He ducked from the limo with a boisterous thanks to the valet. "Never!"

He winked to Bruce as the door closed behind him, feeling the smile face from his face at the despondent look on the man's face. Great. He was still mad. Dick really thought he'd gotten off easy with the orgy stuff.

He beelined for the pretentious revolving doors, sliding into the lobby. Was it the right building? All signs pointed to yes - it was certainly rich enough to be the type of venue Vogue would hire out for their photoshoots - but the mass of people milling at reception was somewhat alarming. They were all wearing some weird blazer, so maybe they were here for a group shoot. Otherwise... Dick just hoped they weren't fans.

"Hi, could you tell me what level the teen vogue shoot is on?" he asked quietly, keeping his voice low to avoid attracting attention his way. The receptionist spun to him, blinking owlishly in recognition.

"Oh! Dick Grayson! What a pleasure, they said you'd be dropping by today," he said excitedly, and Dick withheld a sigh as a few heads snapped towards them. "You're looking for level two. When you get out the elevator it's the first door on the right."

"Uh, great. Thank you." One of the blazer-clad people - a teenager, a little younger than him by the looks of it - stepped out of their group towards him as he leaned away from the help desk.

She looked nervous - nice, but nervous - and her hesitation made Dick pause despite himself. He did love the spotlight, after all. With a wave, he beckoned her over.

"Holy- Hi, my name's Liz," she said excitedly, running a hand down her ponytail. She stumbled closer as one of her friends pushed her forwards. "I'm a big fan. I mean, wait is that creepy? I'm sorry, I -"

"It's fine, see? Not creeped out." Dick grinned as he gestured to himself. "Did you just want to say hi or...?"

"Oh! Could I get a picture? Is that okay?" She asked unsurely, and Dick shrugged. He cast a glance towards the elevator - it was on the fourth floor, he had time.

"I don't see why not!"

"Oh wow, thank you!" Liz pulled out a sleek iphone and Dick pressed closer to get in frame as she held it in front of them. It was always fun, stopping for a selfie. And the girl seemed sweet enough; as long as the entire group didn't want one there was no harm done. A quick press of the screen and Dick was already pulling away. First floor. Still time.

"It was lovely meeting you," Dick disengaged softly as he began to sidle away, and Liz nodded, holding her phone to her chest with brilliant eyes as the rest of the blazer gang gathered around her, whispering. The Grayson boy shot the girl a wink for the fun of it, beaming as her cheeks darkened and the giggles of her companions filled the room. The elevator was on the ground floor.

Dick stepped into the metal cube as soon as the doors began to open, holding a finger against the button for the second floor as if it would make it go faster. The cheery elevator music reverberated from the mirrored walls, and Dick stared into his reflection thoughtfully.

Liz had been nice. Some of the self-proclaimed 'Richard Grayson' fans out there were pretty weird. And he'd met a few. He'd read a few of their tumblr blogs, too. Creepy stuff. It was always nice to find a genuine admirer who was more interested in him than feeling up his ass. Although, her hand had drifted pretty low...

The second floor was just a little too grand for his taste. Very bare. The doors to the think-box slid open with a chime and Dick shimmied between them. He was greeted by an empty coffee shop, with wide panel windows overlooking the streets of Washington below and the same amount of chairs as there were trees in a square meter of desert. It was barren and it was sad and Dick couldn't remember what direction the receptionist had said to go. Left or right?

There was a random kid curled up on one of the mauve velvet sofas, feet dangling over the edge precariously close to a mug that had been placed on the oval coffee table without a coaster. If Dick did that sort of thing at the Manor, Alfred would throw a fit.

"Hello," he said, alarmingly loud even to his own ears, and the couch's occupant shot upright instantly as Dick strode towards them. His eyes flickered to a yellow blazer discarded to the side - the same that Liz and her friends had been wearing . "Are you here for the shoot?"

"Uh..."

"Were you on your way to the studio? I could use some help finding it."

Dick slumped down on the plush chair opposite the boy, raking his eyes over him. Messy brown hair, cute nose, pretty eyes - definitely a model. "I didn't know there was a - what even is this theme you're going for here? Looks like a school-kid thing, field trip maybe."

"I- I am on a field trip..."

"Already in character. Nice. That's strong, man, I salute you," Dick grinned. He reached forward absently, lifting the cup of now-cold hot chocolate to slide a coaster beneath it.

"Character? What are you talking about - who are you?" The model-boy asked and Dick detected a hint of concern in his quaking voice. He frowned, settling back against the sofa.

"Dick Grayson," he replied curtly, watching for recognition to wash over the boy's face. He didn't get what he was looking for. Dick was beginning to think he'd gotten the wrong impression. "You're here to model right? For Teen Vogue?"

"M-model? Vogue? I- No!"

Dick pursed his lips awkwardly, tapping at his thigh as he and the not-model boy stared at each other. "Oh."

"Right," the other boy agreed. "Oh."

"This is, uh, this is my mistake, It's just I saw your group downstairs and Liz was pretty and you're pretty so I just assumed..." Dick climbed to his feet, wiping his mysteriously sweating palms on his jeans. He was usually smoother than this. 

The boy's face flushed a rosy pink: "I'm not... you know Liz?"

"Uh, not really... I met her downstairs though, she was nice," Dick said slowly, debating whether or not he should just leave. He'd made a big enough fool of himself already. The other boy made an odd sound of agreement, turning his eyes to the floor, and Dick struggled to think of something else to say. He thought back to the conversation he'd had with Bruce in the car: surely there was something from that interaction he could string together to make this one more bearable. 

Boy, was he wrong. 

There was only one thing flooding his mind - one thing that didn't involve alter-egos and stressed out men in capes. Unfortunately, his brain didn't filter it out as a no-no for conversation starting. If anything, it ended them before they even began. 

"Hey," Dick started desperately, trying to avoid the slight crackle of his voice. His throat was itchy, was that normal? The other boy peered up at him sheepishly, a faint blush powdering his cheeks as he caught sight of Dick's stare. "Have you ever had an orgy?"

[chapter 2]

[sohannabarberaesque]

Postcards from Snagglepuss (Minnesota State Fair edition)

Of misty mornings, scones and coffee

Seven in the morning ... when the Minnesota State Fairgrounds can be said to come into a life of its own as things get started for another day of the fair.

Which this particular morning sees Huckleberry Hound and yours truly, joint partners in a rather interesting road trip experience, repair to the French Meadow Bakery's premi in the face of a misty drizzle for breakfast--or is that brekkie, as my Australian compadre Kwicky Koala would refer thereto? More specifically, fruit-filled scones with creme fraiche drizzling over the top, fresh from the on-premises ovens even, and some decently-crewed Fairtrade Organic coffee.

Yours truly chose peach; Huck, strawberry. Fresh frozen, for the most part, sweetened in its own juices even!

And finding a seat on the patio of the aforementioned, we two couldn't resist as much such delectable fruit scones as much as the company of stunned early-morning fairgoers trying to figure out the day's plans for making the fair rounds--but harketh! some such seem as surprised as crazed teenage fans of some rock music star, wondering where we were all their lives even as we were trying to get nourished on scones and coffee! Perhaps it was selfie opportunities more than anything that aroused their attention, long-suppressed memories even!!

As if that weren't enow--

"Huckleberry Hound? Snagglepuss? Do you recognise us?"

For some reason, Yakky Doodle and his faithful compadre, Chopper the bulldog, made their way to the French Meadow, sitting practically at the next table over.

"Heavens to nostalgia shows!" saith I.

"And rather stunned we could come across you two," Huckleberry added.

"Aww, it wasn't anything" was how Chopper remarked, preferring a strawberry-banana protein smoothie to start the day. Yakky, for his part, enjoyed the odd handful of his favourite cracked corn that Chopper brought along. "So what brings you both to the fair?"

"To put it simply, Chopper and Yakky," Huck remarked, "we like to spend a few days here heading into the fall." Myself: "And what were you to say if, heading into the fall, you were to join us after the fair for some sojourning into our new premises?"

"What 'new premises' are you speaking of?" asked an incredulous Chopper.

"Our motorhome," saith I. "I decided to swap my long-running Mini Cooper for a slightly modest-size motorhome with my longtime bud, Huckleberry Hound even, and maybe a few of my fellow Funtastic-type friends from time to time."

"Boy," Yakky responded enthusiastically, "isn't that going to be an improvement ... at least that mean old Fibber Fox won't get into much of a scrape with us!"

"So, Yakky and Chopper," Huckleberry remarked, "consider yourself part of our party for the fall. By way of a little cabin Crazy Claws has out by Wisconsin Dells."

"Not a bad thing, eh, Yakky?" was how Chopper responded.

"But you're just the first," I added. "There's bound to be a few others coming along after the fair ends."

Leaving Yakky and Chopper with nothing but the best, Huck was quick to enquire, "By the way, Snag ... who else did you have in mind for the fall part of the trip?"

"You'll see," said I. "Especially as Peter Potamus has plans for us to join him and his Magic Divers for some diving this winter in the Caribbean via his Diver's Delight."

"Formerly Yogi's Jolly Rodger," Huck remarked.

Satisfied, nourished even, with the scones and coffee, it was noted that the two of us would be doing some celebrity server duty at the All-You-Can-Drink Milk Stand down the way later in the day ... but not before noticing Magilla Gorilla trying out the Dole Fruit Whip stand in close proximity. (That's basically selected tropical fruits whipped up like soft-serve ice cream. Supposed to be more nutritious.)

"Jeez," Magilla noted, "you ever try soft-serve bananas?" as he was handed a dish thereof. (Obviously, Magilla just cannot resist bananas in any form. Peebles' Pet Shop, don't you know.)

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

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