#will take a while HOWEVER

[aphthiton]

things your muse will notice about mine — Alectryon !

what they look like. resembling a rooster, his hair is dark auburn and gathered towards the top of his head in a complicated half-braid that reaches past the small of his back and hits the center of his thighs. some of his hair, thick as it is, that is not within the long braid and is instead let free ( almost in the appearance of feathers ). his features are sharp, coming to a point at the center with a rather wide mouth, giving a rather harsh beauty to him that may come across as seemingly dangerous at first glance. his nose is dusted with faint freckles. his eyes are lifted and a dark brown, almost black in color. with his immortality, the brown changes to a rust-colored orange bright within its iris. while his body sits at a decent height, it is lean with sleek muscles that hold a focus mostly in his arms and legs ( the ones most used hunting, designed for speed and quick strength ). his skin tone is that of a light tan given the area of Thrace he came from. his clothes are often of the dark crimsons, forest greens, dark browns, and burnt orange accents, with gold jewelry to offset. his back is always straight, head held high, he could be seen as strutting as he walks depending on the watcher.

what they smell like. as a human, he smelt of berries, soap made of lard and lye, the earth around him. sometimes of smoke from a wood fire, of sweat, of humanly things that marked him for what he was at the time. as an immortal, he takes on the smell of who has given him this new life. the metallic scent of blood is most notable, hinted with the fruity scent of ambrosia and the heady scent of nectar that often make its own perfume upon his person.

what they sound like. jovial in tone, yet quiet when it needs to be and even loud enough to throw it across the deep forest. his voice could be known as warm, soothing almost when it matters most. a voice meant for stories around a fire, within the dark of a hearth room to inquiring ears who delight in a thrill for the night. it will not sing, but it will meander through like the valleys it came from. but it changes when angry, it gets loud when affronted to pierce even the beasts the owner of the voice hunts. however his accent is that of a certain dialect within the Thracian tribes known closest to the forested hills and the Black Sea. less is said to get more across, words are shortened to the point where nobility is notedly far from his ancestral line. crass perhaps, to some ears more used to a smoother tongue, yet it does not distract from his features, only enhances them.

what they feel like. warm to hot, his skin feels as if he is burning up with each touch given. as an immortal, it feels like fire almost as if he would leave his fingerprints upon anything he presses them to. yet his flesh is smooth, almost without blemish if one never searches for the scar that mars the side of him that would have been his death. his hands are calloused, fingertips ripped and bled from taut bowstrings so many times that it took on a hardness that only so much soothing gels could fix. yet with a touch, he opens himself to another, the flaws are less seen then and hardly matter.

[yangjeongin]

😪😪😪

[kizzer55555]

Core Gems

So when a ghost becomes injured, they have a last ditch defense where they retreat into their core. And I mean, injured badly where their body is rip apart to the point they can’t hold a solid form anymore. And they basically go into a hibernation state until they are strong enough to form again.

Ellie, Danny, and Dan are all injured in a final battle against the GIW. The organization was destroyed and the ghosts were safe but the halfas ended up being so injured that they reverted to core form and then went to sleep for a bit. When they woke up, they were still weak but at least recovered enough to gain consciousness. And realize…they are in some kind of auction…in the middle of a heist. It appeared that two furries (one in a bat costume and one in a cat costume) were ducking it out. And they…they were a necklace. All three of them had been turned into a necklace with their cores as gems accompanied by sapphires, pearls, and opals. And frankly gorgeous craftsmanship as the metal was crafted around their cores as if to cradle them and the other gems.

Unfortunately, they were too weak to take a form properly, they could still feel the strain on their bodies. But at least they could still communicate through their auras. Then the cat lady punched a hole in the glass container surrounding them and grabbed their necklace.

However, the bat grabbed the other end and it resulted in a sort of tug-a-war. Meanwhile, Danny, Ellie, and Dan were having a back and form commentary on the situation and what they should do. Completely unheard by the other party.

In the corner of their eye, the three halfas finally noticed a third contender. Some kind of clown who was…hold on…holding a gun?! And it was pointed straight at the two fighting furies who had yet to notice him. The ghosts’ protective instincts went into overdrive and they frantically tried to shout, yell, move. Just do something to warn the two but their cries fell on deaf ears. All they succeeded in doing was faintly glow which immediatly caught the attention of the fighting duo. The two turned to look at the strange necklace but right at that moment, the clown fired and a gunshot rang throughout the auction room. Having no other options, Danny and the others poured every ounce of ectoplasm they had to try and phaseshift, making the two furries intangible as the bullets passed right through them, but in their shock, the two jumped away in opposite directions and accidentally ripped the necklace apart. Gems and pearls went flying and the three cores bounced along the ground.

Luckily, the two finally noticed the clown and went to deal with him and his minions who had appeared. Seemingly putting their fight on hold and forming a temporary truce. The three halfas could only watch as the battle finally wound down, ending with the cops barging into the place and arresting the clown and his grunts, the cat managing to escape with half the scattered gems and pearls from the broken necklace along with a few other jewelry pieces (none of their cores though) and the bat leaving through a skylight.

The auction continued and in the end, despite being broken, their necklace seemed to have caught someone’s interest. A man named Bruce Wayne bought up every piece of the shattered jewelry wear. The auctioneers appeared relived that the item managed to sell in the end and gratefully gave it to him.

Bruce had no idea what happened at the auction, but he could have sworn that some of the gems faintly glowed right before he and Selina were shot. If the necklace was some sort of magical item, then he needed to understand exactly what has been brought to Gotham. It was unfortunate that Selena had taken some parts of the necklace but he utilized his vast wealth to make sure all the other parts ended in his possession. Now he would take them back to the mansion for examination.

[bamsara]

trying to figure out if the continued nausea is related to intense stress and travel schedule or something simple like food poisoning or an infection

[mumblesplash]

heartbreaking: this viral post is saying things you completely agree with in the most irritating way possible

[faeriekit]

Ghosts of Those We Once Knew

a phic phight fill for @silverwing013

Warnings for: implied child abuse, accidental death, dead parents

**💚**

“Oh yeah?! And what are you going to do about it?!” Aunt Alicia snapped into the phone. 

There was a sound on the other end of the line, but Danny couldn’t make it out all the way. There was another solution, but it was…risky; it would require going into his aunt’s bedroom— a well known, forbidden domain— to pick up the only other phone hooked up to the landline. 

…There was no other time to find out what Aunt Alicia was putting off. It had to be worth the risk. Danny crept up the worn carpeting of the stairs, hoping that his sneakiness would hold up to Alicia’s discerning eyes and ears. 

Her bedroom was dark. Carpeted. …Pink. 

Whatever. Danny took a deep breath, lifted the phone off the hook, and tried not to breathe too loudly into the mouthpiece.

“You have no right to keep Daniel in your dismal, miserable, isolated hovel,” someone shouted on the other end. Danny had never heard this voice before. He sounded like someone around Dad’s age, maybe? Maybe a little…smoother, despite the blistering anger coming through the line. “You live with no human contact for nine months out of the year. You speak to no one. Do you— is Daniel even enrolled in a school? Did you get any sort of educational provisions for him whatsoever?” 

“What, so he can get cocky and blow himself up in the garage like his parents?” Alicia snapped. Danny had to clap a hand to his mouth to hide his gasp of dismay. 

“You know full well that punishing your sister’s son by restricting his access to an education and basic human companionship is not a solution to your grief for your sister. You are out of your mind.”

Aunt Alicia’s voice got low. Aunt Alicia’s voice got mean. She sounded like how she looked when Danny had fumbled the water pail from the well or stepped two steps too close to the rhubarb patch out back. “Vladmir Masters, you listen here,” Aunt Alicia muttered. “That boy is everything left of my sister in the whole damn world. He is not going anywhere. Do you understand? Not for you to fill his head with her stupid husband’s supernatural hoo-ha, and not for you to snatch up and teach himself how to kill other people the way those two killed each other. Danny stays here. If you ring me up one more time, I’m going to do more than just mail dog crap to the front step of your stupid castle in Wisconsin.”

The phone cut off. It would be an innocuous end to a phone call, except Danny can hear the clatter of plastic cracking on plastic in the downstairs kitchen.

There was a moment of silence.

“Daniel Jackson Fenton, you get your butt in here right now!”

Danny jolted, heart pounding. He—he went downstairs.

Aunt’s Alicia’s lips were pursed, her eyes tight. “What did I tell you about missing all the sticks in the yard? It looks like a wreck!”

Danny felt his breath stick in his throat.

“Well?”

“Yes, Aunt Alicia,” Danny mumbled. He looked down and away. He wasn’t caught out eavesdropping, but…was this any better?

“If those sticks aren’t piled up beside the woodshed for kindling in half an hour, you can kiss your dinner goodbye.”

Danny hadn’t had dinner in three nights. He was very lucky he didn’t need to eat as much as living kids. “…Yes, Aunt Alicia.”

“So?”

…Danny went outside to collect sticks. It took until nightfall to get all the refuse from yesterday’s storm off the ground.

Aunt Alicia ate canned corn and carrots and butchered rabbit with hot sauce for dinner. Danny ate nothing.

Danny went to bed thinking about somewhere else he could go. Mom and Dad were dead—smithereens in the blast that had killed him and brought him back to life simultaneously. Jazz was in the hospital. He had no grandparents. He had no other aunts or uncles other than Aunt Alicia.

…Who was Vladmir Masters?

*

It took two days for Danny to decide to run away.

Or. Well. Fly.

He’d figured that if he wanted to find out who Vladmir Masters was, he’d need an internet connection. His cell had been on the Fenton Fone Plan™ and had been disconnected from the Fenton Family Patented Ghost-free Satellite™ for almost three months now. But, you know…what was a public library for, if not getting information?

The two-day waiting period was mostly just Danny getting his stuff together, making sure he didn’t leave anything behind, finding anything worth stealing…

…There was a picture of Mom with her big hair at graduation, a black robe thrown over her Hazmat suit. Her hair had been so big. Lots of people were beside her, including Dad, and someone with a matching hair stripe. They looked happy.

It didn’t matter that it had been Aunt Alicia’s photo. The picture had gone into his backpack next to Bearbert Einstein and a filched pocket knife.

Mom was Aunt Alicia’s sister, but Madeline Fenton had been his mom.

…Was still his mom.

Would…would always be his mom.

Danny wouldn’t cry. He wasn’t going to cry. Still, the flying and everything was still new to him. It took almost ten minutes to get himself off the ground without floating off willy nilly.

It took another half an hour to remember how to go through walls.

By the time Danny fell (as in actually, literally, leaned up against the wall and then realized he’d not made contact the way he’d expected to) through the house wall, it was almost eight at night. Aunt Alicia was still listening to Prairie Home Companion downstairs on the radio.

Whatever. He was out of there. He was sure he looked crazy—his hair was white, which was almost impossible to hide—but all he had to do was get out of there fast enough that no one connected one teenage runaway with a backpack to Danny Fenton.

It was fine.

It was all going to be fine.

…And if there wasn’t someone who’d help him. Well. Being homeless didn’t sound…so bad…?

…Or maybe he’d just squat in the burnt out ruins of Fentonworks. That sounded fine too.

*

Morning broke. Danny ended up in a tiny town somewhere in Mississippi.

A nice guy at the coffee shop gave him a cup of water and told him where the local library was. A librarian plugged her login details for him on a public computer, and Danny was able to look up one “Vladmir Masters”…

…CEO and owner of DALVco, millionaire, and Green Bay Packers megafan.

Holy crap.

Like… There were hospital wings with his name on them. Charities operating out of his company. Every picture of the man was perfectly taken in perfect lighting with perfect suits and precise smirks and bright-white magazine article paper.

Danny went back up to the librarian. “Do you have any articles on…uh…Vlad Masters?”

The librarian smiled warmly. “Ah, school project?”

“Sure,” Danny lied, milk on his tongue.

Vlad Masters was a self-made millionaire. He lived in a castle in Wisconsin that used to be owned by a dairy empire kingpin. He went to—

Danny read the line again

—He went to the same college as Mom and Dad. The year looked right, too. They might have even graduated in the exact same year. If only Danny could still check Dad’s college ring in the bottom of their junk drawer.

Wisconsin. Vlad Masters lived in Wisconsin.

…Danny was really lucky he was never all that hungry anymore.

Danny got another cup of water at the coffee shop, washed his face in the bathroom, and got ready to fly another night.

He was no sextant, but he could probably figure out how to get to Wisconsin after a couple of hours of flying, and a little time to gauge the sky.

It would be easy.

…Danny’s white-topped, pale face stared back at him from the restroom mirror.

It had to be. It would have to be easy.

*

So, a cheese castle looked a lot like a regular castle.

Danny squinted up at the stonework. Nah, that looked like…a castle. That being said, it looked more specifically like the castle he was looking for—the one that had been featured in Vlad Masters’s house tour in Architecture Daily magazine two years ago.  

Same…roof bits. Same big door. Danny swallowed. Same…tower? Were there better words for these? There were definitely better words for all the tricky stone bits in the castle.

Whatever. Danny was praying that the man was actually home today, as opposed to flying across the country on some kind of business trip. Rich people did business trips, right?

Danny floated up to the front door. There was no doorbell.

…Danny bit his lip. Okay. So there was no doorbell. There was a very large, brass door knocker. It looked kind of like a big monster face, with a ring held in its teeth.

The knocker was just high enough off the ground that Danny had to float to get there. Lifting it was a struggle.

When it knocked, the whole door buzzed with sound.

Danny waited.

…He waited.

And…Danny waited.

No one came.

Danny picked at the skin of his lip. What if he just…went in?

Like. It was a big house. Maybe Vlad Masters just hadn’t heard him at all? Maybe he was just…in the basement or something…?

Danny paced midair. On one hand. He’d come all this way. He had to follow through. He had to see if there was…something. Anything. Anything at all—anything that could possibly connect Masters to his family.

Any connection that wasn’t Aunt Alicia would be worth breaking and entering.

On the other hand. Home invasion was and would remain illegal.

Danny grimaced.

He…stuck his head through the door. 

There was a hallway on the other side. A little end table. A guest book. 

…Okay. Danny slipped through the door. He was breaking and entering now— or at least…entering. 

Inside was dark. Gloomy. Comfortable, sure— lots of soft furnishings, curtains, couches, pillow, lounging things— but very…opaque in atmosphere. 

He was glowing, he noticed. That probably was pretty bad on the “trying not to get caught” scale. 

There was no one upstairs. Danny drifted through room after empty room and up into floor after empty floor. There was a kitchen, and the food therein were largely preserved items. There was nothing in the fridge. 

Danny’s stomach cramped. There was no one here. 

…Maybe he should look downstairs? 

The castle got colder the further down he went. The windows that at least allowed the minimal light that escaped through the tree cover in the castle vanished. The only light left was Danny. 

Danny floated down deeper. 

There were doors made of metal in a long, stone hallway. Each had different numbers on them. Danny followed the rows of doors.

There were wires on the floor. They were organized by color and bound by little ties, until they weren’t, and Danny eventually ran out of tangled webs of red and blue plastic to follow. 

They ended at a closed door. 

Danny hesitated. He poked his head through. 

On the other side was a ghost. 

Danny jerked back. He’d— he clapped his hand over his mouth. That was—! And sure, Danny was something like that now, but he’d never seen—!

He should leave. Danny should leave. 

Danny barely made it three doors down. 

Going somewhere? something asked him. Danny shivered. 

The ghost appeared on his left in ethereal white, black hair pulled behind him in some sort of half-halo. Unlike Danny, who was in something like half-hazmat, half-hoodie, the ghost wore a long, glowing labcoat, appropriate PPE beneath. 

Danny’s breath fogged up in his mouth. He flinched. “Sorr—” he tried. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to be here.”

The ghost looked at him with bright red eyes. Danny floated a few steps back. Spying, are you?

Danny shook his head. “No!! No, I just— I was looking for— I wasn’t spying! I’m sorry! I didn’t know you li— died here! I’ll leave!” 

The ghost’s head tilted. For a second, Danny thought that he was going to throw a punch. And then—

You’re already here, the ghost pointed out, and opened a door. Beyond it was…something similar to a doctor’s office. An examination table with the paper on it. One of those blood pressure cuffs, attached to a printer for the readout. A sink. Sundry tongue depressors. You may as well consent to be helped. 

“...Helped with what?” Danny asked nervously, fingers flexing. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

The ghost hummed— not in the way voices hummed, but in the way high voltage sang in distant powerlines. You are newly formed, aren’t you? Most can tell a ghost’s nature from its presence alone.

Danny looked away. “Um. You know. You might be the first ghost I’ve ever met.” 

The ghost’s feet almost touched the ground. It stared down at him. It was taller than he was, and when it stared, it made Danny want to run away. 

…Truly, the ghost asked(?), and it took Danny a second to realize it was a question. 

“Maybe I died a little recently…” Danny tried, trailing off into a mumble. Was there a right answer to this? 

…I see. That would make this check-up more urgent, then. Might I encourage you to come this way? 

Danny followed him into the room. 

It felt… It looked and felt exactly like any other doctor’s appointment, excepting that the doctor involved in the process had blue skin and fangs and a hairstyle that defied gravity. The ghost still wore gloves and didn’t poke him or prod him too hard, though, so that was a bonus.

Danny got his pulse taken. (None.) Danny got his lungs checked. (Not breathing.) Danny got his resonance? looked at? Whatever that was? It was a big scanny thing that looked like an X ray and took pictures of his chest. 

The readings were real pretty, whatever they were; the whole film print was taken up with splotches of white and clear blue. It kind of shimmered when Danny tilted his head. 

You’re quite powerful for a newly formed ghost, the ghost offered, overlooking papers Danny couldn’t quite see on his clipboard. It flipped through once. Twice. You’re clearly not attached to your place of death, so that’s not why… Are you aware of any compulsions to follow an Obsession yet…?

A ghostly obsession? Danny knew what that was— it was one of his parents’ theories on why ghosts persisted after death! Was it was true? 

“Um,” Danny said, unsure. He hadn’t…had he? “Not that I know of?”

The ghost paused. It clicked its pen. It marked something down on Danny’s chart. Interesting.

Ominous. 

May I quickly test something? the ghost asked, looking up at Danny. It would only take a moment. If it does not work, there will be no other side effects other than mild discomfort and an activated flight response. 

Danny shifted. The paper crackled underneath him. “...Does it hurt?” 

No.

The ghost added nothing more. 

Danny’s…head jerked up and down. It was fine. It would be fine. 

The ghost’s hand circled his wrist. Its touch burned like fire. 

And then light, like how Danny burned away one form for another—

—Danny was left on the table, no longer weightless, no longer breathless. He was flesh. He was human again.

Vlad Masters stared back at him. 

…Huh. 

Mr. Masters— Vlad?— licked dry lips, staring at Danny, whose wrist he still held. Danny…didn’t know if he could move. Danny didn’t know if he knew how to move. 

“...Daniel?” Mr. Masters’s voice cracked. His eyes moved up and down Danny’s body, from his raggedy hair to his dirt-stained clothes to his beat-up shoes. “Daniel Fenton?”

Danny winced. “It’s just Danny,” he offered hoarsely. His throat bobbed. “You…know me?” 

Mr. Masters moved his grip to Danny’s hand, apparently moved to tears. Without the red in his eyes, he just looked…human enough. “Daniel— Danny, how did you— Are you dead? What happened?” 

Danny felt the weight of everything push down on him again, as if it had ever let up on him since the portal incident. Mom and Dad’s funerals. Jazz in the emergency room. Being resuscitated by the EMTs. Getting shipped out to Aunt Alicia’s house without warning. 

“House blew up.”

That was succinct enough, right?

The man’s face turned devastated. “I heard— I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry, Danny.”

…It was more concern than anyone had shown in a long time. His eyes were wet before he knew it. When he wiped his face with his sleeve, the dampness was enough to leave little streaks of mud on his face— and, ugh, he felt filthy. 

“It’s okay,” Danny lied, because it wasn’t. He pressed his sleeve to his eyes. “It’s…you know my parents?”

Mr. Masters took a deep, surprised breath. “Yes. We…weren’t in contact after we graduated from school together, but Jack always… He asked me by email to be your godfather, right before you were born. I said yes, but I have no idea if he ever filed the paperwork.” 

Oh. 

…Oh. 

There were clearly more secrets here. Mr. Masters was a ghost, and so was Danny. He lived in a giant castle that was clearly haunted, which was made obvious by the owner. He was Danny’s godfather, and Danny had never once met him. 

And he wasn’t Aunt Alicia. 

Danny sucked the spit off of his teeth with his tongue. “Can I stay here?” 

Mr. Masters made a wounded, desperate expression. “I would rather you did.” 

“Can you teach me how to be a ghost?”

The man persevered through what were clearly heavy feelings. “...If I must.” 

“Can I have dinner?” was Danny’s final question. “Like. On the regular?” 

There was a second where Mr. Masters’s eyes went red. The castle suddenly felt taut with anticipation. Fury crawled on Danny’s skin. He could feel the pressure digging in search of some way to burrow into his flesh.

And then it was gone. 

“Of course you can. You are a growing boy.”

Danny smiled shyly, barely showing his teeth. When he smiled for real in the mirror, he had fangs. It was better not to. “Cool.”

Mr. Masters nodded. And when Danny looked down at the floor, he changed his grip so that Danny could hold his hand and hop down like normal. 

“It will be alright,” Mr. Masters promised quietly. It seemed to be just as much for him as it was for Danny. “Or…I’ll take care of it. Whatever happens. You’re not alone, Danny.” 

Danny had been alone for almost half a year. It had felt like forever. “Thanks.” He sniffed. 

They walked upstairs from the basement laboratory together, in a way Mom and Dad never would again. 

[hollow-toy]

visiting family rn and many wounds in my soul have been healed over the past few days by our cat who loves me and purrs very loudly just because she's in the same room as me. she's rubbing her little face against my laptop as i type this

[canisalbus]

Hii!!! Hello I just discovered your blog and oh my god im absolutely hooked I love machete so muchhh. I’ve known machete for a day and a half and if anything happened to him I’d kill everyone in this room and then myself- /ref (machete: *gets assassinated* me: a.)

Anyway!!! because of that I’ve really wanted to draw him and I was wondering if you’re okay with me posting it 👀 with proper credit of course and I’d tag you! Ik not everyone is comfortable with that so I thought I’d ask.

[chirpsythismorning]

DUFFER BROTHERS PAY HOMAGE TO THE FIRST GAY KISS IN FILM WITH BYLER IN S5 CHALLENGE

[silverwhittlingknife]

hi Silver! o/ because that fanart made me wonder - would you happen to know when/where Dick's stuffed elephant plush Zitka turns up in the comics?

GREETINGS CAM <3333 THAT ART WAS SO CUTE

Yeah, I think your instincts are right - it's a truly adorable bit of transformative fandom, but I'm 95% percent sure it's not comics canon. Barbara has canon plushies, but I don't think anyone else does.

I got kinda invested in the investigation (it's hard to prove a negative!) and I ended up typing out an entire History of Elinore/Zitka, so, uh, if you're curious, meet me below the cut for:

Where does Elinore / Zitka - the animal - appear in comics?

Did Dick ever have a stuffed elephant toy in comics?

Where does Elinore / Zitka appear in comics?

We're gonna go in chronological order!

Dick's circus elephant friend was first created for practical reasons: in Batman 436, Marv Wolfman does a big expanded flashback to Dick's circus backstory as a way to subtly show us Tim before officially introducing him (so that we can have a technically-solvable mystery-of-Tim's-identity in LPoD). In this comic, there's an elephant named Elinore who loves Dick:

Aww. Such a cute elephant!

Batman 436 comes out in August 1989. New Titans 60 comes out a few months later, in November, and guess what? When Dick visits the circus, he is suddenly surprised by an unexpected blast from the past! It turns out that even though it's been years, Elinore still remembers him!

Here's the part where Elinore remembers Dick:

SUCH a cute elephant. I love her.

(Guess who else still remembers Dick even though it was so long ago. Guess which other character is about to be an unexpected blast from the past. Guess which character Elinore is directly paralleling guess guess guess sorry everything is about Dick and Tim in my mind but I can focus I swear)

Four years later, in 1993, Batman: The Animated Series retells Dick's origin story. They like and keep Wolfman's elephant, but they change her name to Zitka:

Wolfman doesn't return to the elephant beyond those two appearances, and a few years down the line, New Titans gets cancelled and Wolfman's not writing Dick anymore anyway. So the animal gets abandoned for a while, until Devin Grayson, a fan of both Wolfman and B:tAS, revives the Wolfman-era Titans team in JLA/Titans and then the ongoing series Titans 1999.

Grayson then brings back the elephant in a flashback to Dick's past in Titans 16 (Jun 2000), where she imports the B:tAS name. Sometimes I'm skeptical of TV-to-comics imports, but honestly, I endorse this one. You lose the alliteration, which is a shame, but IMO Zitka is a better elephant name than Elinore.

Here's Dick with the newly-christened Zitka in Titans 16:

Grayson also briefly references the elephant in Gotham Knights 20 and - in a final angsty callback - in Nightwing 88 (Feb 2004), where Zitka tries futilely to comfort Dick in the midst of his trauma conga line:

... And... honestly, I think that's it for comic appearances? The two Wolfman comics plus the three Grayson comics.

Both Wolfman and Grayson are writing multiple titles - Batman, New Titans, Titans, Gotham Knights, and Nightwing between the two of them, spanning a big chunk of Dick's post-Crisis canon - and both writers use the elephant for heartwarming moments of nostalgia, which means if you're doing a post-Crisis readthrough for Dick, Elinore/Zitka feels memorable. But I don't think she actually shows up that much.

For post-2011, I am not as well-informed - throwing this out to the dash? anyone know? - but I feel like Zitka the heartwarming symbol of Dick's heartwarming circus past is, uh, thematically very at odds with the Court of Owls evil!circus vibes, so my instinct is that this story element was almost certainly dropped in the reboot.

Did Dick ever have a stuffed elephant toy in comics?

In WFA, yes; in main comics continuity, no. Technically, I have not read every comic ever published, so I could be wrong!! But I don't think so.

Below, find my rambling reasoning on the tonal vibes of pre-Crisis, post-Crisis, and post-2011, and why this particular story element doesn't seem right to me for the first two.

Pre-Crisis (...okay, mostly the Silver Age): stuffed animal, yes or no?

tl;dr no, requires too much background knowledge on the part of the reader, plus the elephant wasn't a thing until later

Elinore doesn't get created until post-Crisis, but also just generally, pre-Crisis callbacks are more along the lines of this reference in Batman 129 (published in 1960), where, wow, Batman and Robin are hunting jewel thieves - and it turns out Robin recognized this strongman! BUT HOW?!

The comic goes on to recap Dick's entire origin story in flashback, on the assumption that you may not know it.

(BTW, if you'd like to know more about Haly's Circus throughout the years, nightwingology has a great post here summarizing a lot of fun plotlines and characters!)

Basically: Silver Age comics are very self-consciously episodic and kid-friendly; they're not generally gonna do overly-elaborate callbacks because they don't know what comics their kid readers may have randomly picked up or remember.

By the time of post-Crisis, comic books were being written for an adult audience buying from the direct market, i.e. readers who are collecting whole runs & don't need or want Dick's origin story to be recapped to us in full every time it's referenced. That's why in post-Crisis, we get stuff like "hey, neat, this particular soda brand is getting mentioned in several different books!!" or "in order to understand this story arc, buy SIXTEEN DIFFERENT COMICS in FIVE DIFFERENT RUNS and read them ALL ACCORDING TO A NUMBERED ORDER and also you better be following the individual plotlines and recognize these five minor characters who we don't bother to introduce!! Good luck!!" But the elaborate post-Crisis plotlines - and subtler worldbuilding like a stuffed animal callback to Dick's backstory - don't make a lot of story sense UNLESS you're imagining your readers as completionist adult fans.

So IMO a stuffed animal wouldn't be a pre-Crisis thing unless it was The Episodic Story Of the Week, and I don't think a stuffed animal is action-adventure-y enough for the fast-paced storytelling of the Silver Age. (Unless it, like, came to life and tried to eat you or something.)

Post-Crisis: stuffed animals, yes or no?

tl;dr: no, Dick's a manly tough guy, he's not gonna have a stuffed animal, that'd be lame, like something Tim might do

Part of the edgy grimdark adult vibes in 80s/90s comics is that some characters who used to be kinda silly & goofy & lighthearted - like Batman and Robin - get reimagined as Serious and Angsty and Edgy in a Tough Cool Manly Brooding Way. This massively affects characterization for Bruce, Dick, and Bruce and Dick's relationship.

(I obviously love this change & love the tense Bruce-and-Dick interactions, but plenty of fans of the earlier fluffy comics really disliked the edgy retcons of Miller / Wolfman / Starlin / et al.)

The upshot is that post-Crisis is a period when you could have a recurring reference like a stuffed elephant, but you wouldn't have a stuffed elephant, not for Dick. I think a toy like that would be too cutesy / childish / effeminate to give a male character in post-Crisis, unless you were poking fun at him.

Now, you could probably let Tim have a stuffed animal, because Tim is sometimes cool but also sometimes a tryhard loser who is faking being cool and not entirely pulling it off (see e.g. the Robin comic where he practices tough-guy faces in the mirror, or the Teen Titans comic where Conner discovers his cringy Enya CD, or when he's fanboying over Connor and it's awkward, etc etc.). A stuffed animal would be deeply embarrassing, and you'd have to be careful to compensate by having Tim do something cool afterward - but Tim's character concept allows for "he's kind of a loser sometimes."

But Dick isn't!! In post-Crisis, Dick's a tough / impressive / "cool guy" character, the kind of guy anyone would want to be, even in the flashbacks where he's Robin, and even in the stories where he's more lighthearted than angsty. It'd be kinda lame for Dick to have a stuffed elephant, so he wouldn't. I feel like Dick would be more likely to poke fun at it if someone had one, like when he's making fun of Wally for liking the Hardy Boys. Dick could have a Batman action figure, at most, and if he had one he would have it ironically.

Basically: in post-Crisis, a male character hugging a stuffed elephant feels more likely to be a punchline to me, not something poignant. (Even with Tim, Tim could have an embarrassing stuffed animal, but he couldn't hug it when sad - that's too far. Maybe Booster Gold might do this. Probably he wouldn't, but spiritually, he would. Sorry Booster ilu! <3)

Instead, Dick instinctively deals with his inner turmoil like the TORTURED ACTION HERO he is: by punching things and brooding and yelling and joining the mob and sleeping on rooftops and going on obsessive secret missions and acquiring Angsty Stubble!! Just like Batman!

(Technically I don't know if Bruce ever joined the mob but you know he would.)

Anyway as you know this is my favorite continuity and I am poking fun affectionately, but uh, yeah sdfsfdsfs. No stuffed animals.

Post-2011 / Infinite Frontier / Wayne Family Adventures: stuffed animals, yes or no?

tl;dr it's in WFA! Probably not anywhere else, but it could be.

Post-2011 stuff tends to be cutesier overall, most of all in the current Infinite Frontier era. So I don't feel like this would be tonally out-of-line with IF comics. Taylor tends to go for more meme-y references rather than fanfic references, though.

So the obvious best fit is WFA, which is aiming for a rough approximation of Silver Age family-friendly vibes - wholesome, episodic plots, Teaching Good Moral Lessons For The Youth, etc. - plus lots of Easter eggs for fanfic readers and some comic references.

And look, here we are:

Aww.

Whew - that's everything I could find!

Anyway as you can probably tell, I LOVE the elephant, so this was a very entertaining rabbit hole to go down, thank you <3

[astralleywright]

there's nothing orym would ask of the other hells that he wouldn't do himself, which is sort of the problem, really

[finns-tword-blog]

Ok we need a part two for Wally's heart tummy where Eddie is just destroying him with just little pokes and scratches at his tummy heart

sorry!! i didn't feel like coloring raaghgh

this is a continuation from this post here (my first piece of content on here actually!)

- this is a SFW tickle blog, so no funny business in the notes -

[spicywreck]

what's great about romeo's daddy by ethel cain is that it can be about devil's minion nasty 70s/sugar daddy era OR dubai rashid!armand wanting to fuck that old man soooooo bad

I stay winning, y'all

[jash-updates]

Most normal energy drink consumer

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAu Drabble - The Roots

I have been gone for a few days but i wanted to really mess with this tiny concept!

First Drabble (with special thanks to @spotaus For giving the first prompt) Prev Drabble Next Drabble

Technically timeline wise this is at the same ish time as the next drabble in the timeline, On the Other side. But we will just do this like this for now :D

As always, we have no beta and no edits. :D Also slight warning, I will be changing up the POVs in the drabble itself a bit. don't worry about it.

*---------------*

Nightmare looks around the corner and notices that all four are still asleep. That is good. Perfect even!

It isn't that he dislikes being with them. The oposite in matter of fact. it feels... Safe protected home calming nice. Many things but overal just nice.

It still confuses him sometimes. That they just... care. After everything. Even with them knowing just who he is.

It also does mean that Nightmare feels bad about leaving while they are asleep.

It is just that he isn't going to get another chance like this. They are very close to DreamTale and with how much magic Nightmare has in him now thanks to the many meals and sleeping a lot, he thinks he could make it all the way to DreamTale and back before being completely out of magic to use.

Which means he has his chance to do a small personal ritual he hasn't had the chance to do in a while.

It is something stupid. And Nightmare knows he should stop it.

It is just... After everything in Dreamtale happened. The deal with what he had caused and done, having been the cause of both his brother and mother dying... He had just made two graves.

He had been the point of returning there once in a while to maintain both graves and leave fresh flowers.

Nightmare just. Never stopped doing it. After seeing Dream again... He just kept doing it still. Something about the grave still showing that he still ended up losing Dream...

Or something like that.

He doesn't quite know anymore but it helps.

Nightmare manages to get to the garden of the small house they had claimed and takes a deep breath. He hadn't needed to make these jumps in a while and he had to be sure he aimed in the right direction. Just. Easy.

He holds up both hands and feels his magic start to flow out. A small sizzle as a small portal starts to take shape. His breathing gets heavier and heavier. He didn't think it would be this hard... why is it so much harder than before-

Two arms lock around him and he is lifted up. Nightmare's breath escapes in one go and he wiggles before stopping. Nightmare knows these arms by now and knows it is Killer before he even speaks.

"What you doing out here tiny boss?" a chuckle and nuzzle to the side of his skull "I thought we were passed this whole you trying to run away from us." Killer turns him aorund and Nightmare can now see the large pout on his face.

Nightmare looks to the side and wiggles but cant get free, he never can escape their hold. Instead he just crosses his arms and mutters "Just wanted to do something real quick."

Killer hums before Nightmare is pulled much closer and he is flush up agianst Killer. Killer hums much more contently before turning back to the house "So what did you want to do tiny boss? aside from using a lot of your just recovered magic that is."

Why does he feel bad? Why does he feel guilty? He wasn't doing anything bad?? Wait why is that how he thinks about it?

Nightmare tries to think it through but comes up blank. It doesn't help that being near Killer, or any of them really, calms him very quickly. He isn't used to this.

They get back to the house and Nightmare sees three more worried faces and feels worse. They had been sleeping... They shouldn't have noticed or been bothered by him not being there... How did they even notice? He... isn't used to people noticing stuff about him.

They sit him down and Nightmare considers his options... If he wants to use this one chance... maybe if he explains they will just let him do his thing for a bit?

Ngihtmare looks to the side and finds himself muttering "I just wanted to do a thing... it is honestly boring and would have been quick."

----

Horror doesn't like this place. It is the place that holds so much trauma for Nightmare. Where they thought that hurting and torturing a babybones was a good idea.

But Nightmare rarely asks them for anything anymore. And even before he became his true form he rarely asked anything for himself. If he wanted something he could just get it or do it. Now he doesn't have much of a choice and Horror knows this. They all know this.

And well, they are trying to get Nightmare to ask them when he wants things. So when he expressed he wanted something? of course they are gonna make it work.

Even if they have to come here.

Killer stands with his hands on his hips as he looks around the grey coloured forest "Wow! Lots of nothing..."

Cross sends him a glare and hisses "Killer."

Horror agrees, Killer could try to be a bit more sensitive. Normally none of them mind his brass and bolt nature but well.. They are here to visit two graves. Two graves that a six year old made to memorise his family which he thought he had killed.

This is not the time for Killer to be... well Killer.

Killer huffs and looks at Nightmare "Can you believe them?"

Nightmare shrugs but holds the two small bouquet of flowers close. "I didn't really... leave a lot..."

See? That is why they needed to try and be a bit more tactful. Killer luckily seems to notice as he rubs his neck as Cross shoots him a knowing look.

Dust remains by Nightmare's side as he looks around "A hill right?"

Nightmare seems to look all of them over before nodding "Yeah." He points into a random direction "It is that way." and he starts leading the way.

It is strange. The whole world is grey and colourless. Not the white space that Cross had had when his world was destroyed. but just, greyscale. Hell even Cross looks colourful compared to this place.

Cross frowns and takes a few quick steps to now walk on Nightmare's other side "was it always coloured like this?"

Nightmare shakes his skull and thinks for a bit. "I think... if i remember it right... the grey colour started to happen as soon as they cut mother down."

Horror almost wants to sigh in relieve. He keeps it in but this is good. It is something to help stop the guilt. At least that is what Horror is assuming why the graves are still there. guilt. But Horror won't assume.

They leave the forest and see a hill with further in the distance a village. They walk up the hill and find a cut down tree stump and two old and small graves.

Nightmare stands by them for a moment before glancing back at them with a suspicious look "No commentary?"

Horror gets it. They can be assholes.

Killer grins and leans closer "I can do one... but i doubt it adds anything." he pets the small skull before pointedly talking towards the side of the hill to overlook the forest, he pulls Cross allong with him.

Dust remains near Nightmare as a silent shadow and Horror leaves them to have room. Keeping an eye on their small charge as he looks around. Horror has no doubt that this used to be a beautiful place. some of the plants he sees may be grey now but he recognises them for eatable wild flowers.

He can see Nightmare slowly near the graves. He sits on his knees by the two and starts with cleaning both graves. Making sure no dirt or dust is on it and everything is still secure. Afterwards he removes old and, by now, dead flowers. He takes care that those aren't near the graves before returning and leaving new fresh flowers. They had picked up both colourful bouquets from another universe along the way.

At the end he just sits by the two graves as he touches the stone.

Killer and Cross had returned back to them at this point and Killer nudges Cross. Cross shoots him a questionable look before Killer just motiones over his shoulder back at the village before nodding at Nightmare. Horror cna see Cross just stare in utter confusion at Killer before Killer pulls him closer and whispers something to him.

Cross looks back before nodding as he walks over to Dust and whispers some stuff to him. Dust looks thoughtful before nodding as well.

Cross slowly walks over to Nightmare and speaks "Hey..." Nightmare looks up and tilts his skull. Cross smiles "If you want we can go into the village for a bit."

Nightmare frowns "Why would I?"

Cross looks a bit sheepish but Dust picks up "The book was general about what happened. But we figured that those people may have taken stuff or kept things that were yours from you."

Cross nods and grins "We are here now anyway. we can get it back."

Nightmare looks at the village and thinks it over before nodding "okay." he stands up and dusts his pants off of the dirt. Cross ends up softly nudging him towards the side and Dust easily takes his hand before the three walk off.

Horror shoots Killer a look "Why?"

Killer grins as he walks over to the stump "don't worry about it. Want to go with them?"

Horror continues to watch Killer before shaking his skull "I am fine being here."

Killer shrugs and turns to the stump. Staring at the dead tree.

"You wasted your chance."

Horror frowns as he just watches Killer. Killer meanwhile keeps looking at the dead tree.

Killer continues as if he is talking to an actual person "You were given a fucking miracle. We read your story you know. Know that you were only aiming for one child. Instead of being overjoyed and happy that you got two you took him for granted."

Horror sees the edges around Killer's soul waver away from their soul shape but it returns to the soul shape easily.

Killer doesn't stop speaking "You were suposed to be his mother and you failed your job. You never actually cared about him did you? Well." he glares down "You are not getting him back. Ever. He isn't yours anymore."

Horror frowns and studies Killer. No... Killer still doesn't know about the soul adoption, that Horror is sure about. Which means this all? Just Killer.

Killer holds his chin high as he stares down at the stump "I don't know what exactly is happening. But seeing as it is related to the apples it is related to you. So I am telling you now. Even if for some reason you return. Even if you are alive again. You are not getting Nightmare back. He is ours, not yours. You will never find him. You will never get the chance to hurt him."

Horror hears it in his voice. Killer, the one who hates promises more than any of them. Who had lost so much of his freedom and free will because of broken promises. Just made a promise, not even a promise. but a vow.

Horror can't say he is that surprised. After all. After everything in Horrortale and all the pressure from making sure his brother has food and is taken care of. Horror had thought he never wanted to take on a new responsibility ever again. And yet, here he was with a willing soul adoption writen into his very soul.

He also knows the other two aren't doing much better. Dust who hadn't wanted to emotionally or personally connect with anyone ever again. After having killed everyone he cared about he didn't want those relationships anymore. Yet he was the first to take this leap. Commit to Nightmare, and ironically to them all.

Cross who hadn't wanted to take any kind of oath or lifelong promise or mission after his past with the guard and XGaster. He didn't want to tie himself down. Give his all to something or some goal that just hurt him. And while it took him a while he still is devoted to this.

Horror knows they are all powerless against this. It happened but at least this time it was their choice. He thinks it is good, this way they all really knows what it means to do this. To commit to this and all it entails.

A crack of thunder and the three are suddenly on the hill with them again.

horror turns but freezes. Dust is holding a shaking Nightmare close as Cross is already cutting into the fabric of reality with his knife.

Killer and him share a look and are with the other three before they even have to say what happened. They can get an explanation later, for now they need to go.

----

They are back in the house they had been hidding in and Nightmare finally feels himself relax a tiny bit.

Thought that may also be becuase Dust is still holding him and the other's soul is steady and even. It makes his own franctic soul calm down.

Killer looks at them "Do we need to pack up and go?" he is already halfway to the bags.

Cross has closed the portal and watches as the universe patches itself fully closed again, not leaving a single mark, there is a reason Nightmare had worked so hard to get Cross XChara's knife. Aside from the fact that Cross liked fighting with it. It is a very powerful and amazing tool.

Cross sighs in relieve "We should still be good." he turns to the others and starts explaining right away "Nightmare saw Dream."

Killer curses loudly as he kciks the couch. Horror frowns and looks at him "did he see you?"

Nightmare pushes clsoer to Dust but nods.

Killer curses again but Horror frowns "Did he realise it was you?"

Nightmare thinks bakc to Dream staring at him. Awe and surprise clear on his face. The wishfullness had been obvious. The way he had moved towards him, a smile on his face that Ngihtmare hadn't seen since they were both small. Then again, the name he had called him had made it clear who he saw...

Nightmare shrugs.

Horror tilts his skull "Is that yes?"

Nightmare shakes his skull and mutters "yes and no..."

Horror nods as Killer frowns at him "both? How both?"

Nightmare shrugs again but Dust just nudges him gently with his skull nad Nightmare sighs as he quietly explains "I think he knew i was well me... but didn't know i was me me..." he toys with the fabric of the red scarf, Dust lets him. He searches for the right words "He called me Nighty.. and well he hasn't done that since before the apples. Since he still-" Since he still loved him. Nightmare doens't say it out loud but Dust must have figured out something as the hold around his tightens.

Nightmare pushes his face further into the scarf "He will probably think it means something bad... That is what everyone always said my appearance was... and he thinks I am an adult still so... yeah..." His mind is spinning but his soul is calm. in sync of Dust's. calm and slow pulses and beats. It honeslty makes him sleepy.

Dust nuzzles his skull and speaks "Well, He will not find anything and will have to learn to not just listen to rumours. As for even if he had caught you before you got to me, we would get you back." the certainty makes Nightmare pause.

Ngihtmare trries to shoot Dust a look but Dust just keeps rubbing his back and keeping him against him.

Cross nods "obviously. Just a matter of time before we would figure out where you were..." more thoughful "Next time we will have to scuot the universe first. We just didn't today because we figured no one would know about it. Srory for that. Next time you want to visit the graves we will make sure no one will interrupt. okay?"

Nightmare nods as he pushes closer to Dust.

He doesn't even understand why he still wants to visit those graves. Dream isn't even dead!

Even if... even if Dream doesn't...

Those graves shouldn't matter but Ngihtmare still wants to make sure btoh are fine. Maybe it is now just a symbol for the dead relationship between him and Dream. It just gives him a place where he can focus his grief and mourn for the family he lost.

The hand hasn't stopped petting his back and Nightmare feels himself finally fully relax.

At least he really isn't alone... His four are here now and they are still here after the close calls and learning about the graves.

It would be nice to not be alone anymore.

Nightmare lets the calming of his soul lure him to fall asleep. Knowing he is safe and cared for now.

*---------------*

So is anyone surprised i couldn't keep it short? I am not. I know myself. I have a problem and it is this whole AU that has my heart in a choke hold.

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

[formereldestdaughter]

ok wait i need to hear more of your thoughts on peeta owning a bakery....

This is one of those rare times where I’m pretty sure this anon isn’t someone I know personally bc I’ve subjected anyone who will listen to my rant about the Peeta Bakery Headcanon. Anyway, you’re gonna regret asking this anon bc there are fucking Layers here.

I know this is probably a controversial take based on the number of fics where I’ve seen it, but I simply do not think that Peeta would open a commercial bakery after Mockingjay!! Like on a metatextual level, I don’t think it really fits with the point of the ending of the series. It actually sort of fascinates me that it’s just such a common headcanon because the ending of Mockingjay is exceedingly vague. I think that vagueness invites us, as readers, to imagine a better world post-revolution. A world where Katniss would feel confident that her children would be safe from injustice, where she’d feel confident that her children would never know want the way she did as a child. A just world. A kinder world. Can a capitalist society ever be just? Is a capitalist society where a disabled teenager has no other means to subsist himself (or feels like there’s no other way he can be a contributing member of his community) really the post-revolution world we dream of? Is that really the best we can imagine?

(This got so insanely long I’m adding a read more lmao)

I get that showing a better world is not always the point of post-mockingjay headcanons/fics. Like there are plenty of really great post-mockingjay fics I’ve seen where, yeah, part of the fic is that society like ISN’T all that different or all that much better. I’ve seen that really well done! Hell, I’ve written them myself! It’s easy to imagine how a lot of aspects of society would not get an overhaul, a lot of the same structural inequalities would continue to exist. One headcanon that really stuck with me (I can’t remember which fic it was from) was that Peeta sells basically mail order baked goods to people on the Capitol, sending them iced cakes and pastries by train, because there are still people who were “fans” of theirs during the Games. And idk this doesn’t actually have much to do with my point lol but I liked it because it’s kind of fucked up and like! Yeah! It makes sense! If he needed money that would be a good way to make it! War often makes people rich, often for horrible reasons, and often it’s people who already have capital in the first place.

Anyway, more about the hypothetical bakery because alright. I bring up the fact that “yeah society not being all that different post-revolution and still being an unjust capitalist hellscape” could be a reason why Peeta re-opens a bakery because that’s actually never the types of fics where I see the bakery headcanon. Fics where Peeta opens a bakery are usually trying to make the exact opposite point. Like. Things are getting better, now he can open a bakery! Look at how much better the world is now, plus he’s got a bakery! Peeta is healing, that’s why he can open a bakery now! And I am so, so sorry to inform everyone who’s never had the grave misfortune of owning a family business, but there is truly nothing further from the truth lmao. Like just putting aside the immense amount of emotional baggage that Peeta has about his family, running a small business is an insane amount of work in any context and being a baker especially is physically grueling and involves early hours (and long hours) that aren’t really the best fit with the multiple ways that Peeta is disabled now. (I could go into this more because I have a lot of thoughts. But I will spare you.). I also think it’s seen throughout the books that Peeta is someone who needs time to pursue creative outlets to process his feelings and someone who values leisure and values quality time with his loved ones. And having grown up in his family’s bakery, I think he’d understand the reality that running a bakery wouldn’t leave much space of those pursuits and wouldn’t leave much space for him to have the things that keep him healthy and stable. I think he’d know that the way he is now— after two Games and the war and unspeakable torture at the hands of a dictator—isn’t compatible with the lifestyle necessary for running a commercial bakery.

And tbh with that in mind, I don’t think he’d push himself to re-open a business (one that would be a constant reminder of his dead family and his complicated relationships with them that got no closure) that would require him to sacrifice his physical and emotional well-being. Like I think he might look into the possibility, I think he might even start trying to open a bakery out of a sense of obligation/duty, maybe harboring some idea that this is who he was supposed to be, who he would've been without the Games, or that it’s this last piece of his family that can live on, or that it’s this last connection to his family so he can’t let it die too. But ultimately, I think any attempt to open a bakery wouldn’t get very far. Maybe he'd start wading into the logistical nightmare that is small business ownership and realize it's not for him (because it's probably also true that as much as him and his brothers were involved in the business, there's almost certainly parts they weren't involved with and didn't see, i.e., filing taxes). Or maybe looking into opening a bakery— how triggering it is, the stress of it— causes a downward spiral. Maybe he hates how much he's worrying everyone by unraveling. Maybe having a breakdown from the stress of just trying to open a bakery makes him realize, yeah, maybe in another life he would have ran his family’s bakery but the way he is now just doesn’t work with running a bakery, not without great sacrifices he's not willing to make. I just can’t see a bakery coming to fruition.

I know a lot of fics include Peeta deciding to reopen a bakery as a big step in his healing or include him rebuilding a bakery as part of his healing process but honestly, I think the opposite would be more true: I think Peeta either trying/failing to open a bakery or ultimately deciding not to open a bakery would be hugely healing for him. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way he is now as a person, his new limitations but also his strengths. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way his life his now and accepting that he likes his life the way it is, that he’s satisfied with his life without needing to own a bakery. I think it would be an important part of him coming to terms with the loss of his family. I think he knows he can never have things back as they were and I don’t think he would try to recreate them, especially because his family’s legacy isn’t a business. I think he’s emotionally intelligent enough and self reflective enough to realize that what mattered to him about the bakery— taking care of others by feeding them, being integrated into his community and being actively involved in it, brightening people’s days with delightful things whether that’s beautiful cakes or hearty food or delicious treats— and the things he learned from his family through the bakery, are things that he can carry on in other meaningful ways.

(Do you regret sending this ask yet, anon? Because if not, you will soon. I’m not done yet. There’s more.)

I wasn’t really sure where to put this next part in what is rapidly becoming an essay because it sort of combines the points about like “what do we imagine a post-mockingjay society to look like” with the practical difficulties of starting this bakery but here’s another thing: do people really think that the Mellarks owned the land the bakery was on?? Like, sure, the merchants are the petit bourgeois of Twelve but I still don’t imagine they really own anything. In a society where houses are assigned to people upon marriage, where property ownership and capital are so closely interconnected with citizenship (as shown by the Plinths who, by having immense capital, are able to leave their District and become citizens of the Capitol) do people really think the Mellarks would be allowed to own the land their bakery is on?? I always imagined it sort of like a tenant farming situation: the Capitol gives them the raw materials for the bakery and in return the bakery give them some absurdly high portion of their profits, or the Capitol sells them a year’s supply of raw materials at a premium on credit and at the end of the year the Mellarks have to use the money they made with those materials to pay it back, except it’s never enough to turn a profit so they always have to buy next year’s materials on credit and the cycle continues.

We (understandably) get a really skewed view of the merchant class through Katniss’s perspective so I can see why people come to the conclusion that his family owned the property and, as the last surviving member, he would’ve inherited it. I’ve seen the inheritance thing in fics a lot or a hand wavey “well Twelve was decimated to no one owns anything anymore so it can be his” or even like an almost sort of reparations type situation where he’s entitled to the land as a surviving refugee of Twelve. But I don’t know. I guess I don’t think it fits with everything else we know about Panem that the Mellarks would’ve owned that land and I think the question of whether the government would’ve let him take ownership of the land post-revolution brings up a lot of issues about the structure of society post-Mockingjay that I find more interesting to explore in other ways, especially when, from an emotional perspective, 1) I find the idea of Peeta not opening a bakery more compelling and 2) I don’t think it really fits his character arc by the end of Mockingjay to reopen a bakery, as I went on about at length above lol.

On the flip side: literally who cares!! Do whatever you want!! Headcanon whatever you want!! I get why people go for the bakery!! It’s fun, it’s wholesome, it’s a built in bakery AU that isn’t even an AU. It doesn’t matter if it’s practical or realistic!! It doesn’t need to be practical or realistic!! It’s fanfic of a dystopian YA series!! My unfortunate affliction is that I grew up in a family that owned a restaurant and that I have multiple degrees in the social sciences so I can’t see the bakery without being like “What about the overheard? What about the start up costs? Who’s spending long nights balancing the books? Is Peeta covering shifts when an employee calls in sick? Is Peeta the sole person working there until the bakery is open long enough (often a year or more) to start turning a profit? How does that sleep schedule work with his nightmares? How does that work with Katniss’s nightmares? What happens when he has an episode and suddenly needs to take the day off before he has any employees? Does the bakery just remain closed for the day? Can the profit margins withstand regular unexpected closures? Can the supplies withstand regular unexpected closures?” And if the answer is “Elliott none of those things matter he’s not doing the bakery because he needs the money but because he wants to”, then my question is why does he want to? Does he not get the same sort of satisfaction out of feeding his loved ones? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would rather give away baked goods than sell them?? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would prefer to make cakes for people’s special occasions upon and then when they insist on paying him for it, he only lets them “pay for the ingredients” which actually cost significantly more than he says they did??

So yeah my point is that it’s a matter of personal taste! It doesn’t fit the way I see the series but that doesn’t mean it’s like wrong, I’m not an authority on Peeta lmao.

It’s also a matter of personal taste in the sense that I find the themes that most resonate with me at the end of Mockingjay (and the end of Peeta’s arc specifically) more interesting to explore in other ways. Grief, living with loss, relearning yourself, finding hope, figuring out your place in a dramatically different world when you don’t even know who you are anymore, healing, building a new life after such complete and total destruction of your old life— those are all things I find compelling about the end of Mockingjay but for me the bakery isn’t the most compelling way to explore them.

Not to say I find the concept of the bakery totally uninteresting. I have this fic about Johanna that I’ll probably never finish where the point sort of is that, yeah, her life really isn’t all that much better after the war. It’s been years at this point and she’s still miserable and she doesn’t know how to be a person but by the end she’s trying to figure it out. And towards the end, Peeta tells her that he’s spent years sort of passively, half-heartedly trying to figure out how to inherit the land his family’s bakery was on, only to find out it was never theirs in the first place. They’d been renting it the whole time and he’d never even known as a kid. So he sort of passively, half-heartedly went on another wild goose chase to find the owner and now, finally, after years of writing to various government agencies and being sent in circles and things being barely functional, he’s managed to track down the owner. Now it’s owned by the daughter of the man who owned it when he was a kid because the original owner (who was likely up to some sketchy war crime shit) died during the war and she inherited it (the irony…). He got in contact with her and asked how much it would take for her to sell it and she told him she’s not interested in selling but in light of the situation, in light of the fact that he’d have to build a new building in order to operate a bakery, that she’d cut him a deal— she’d only require 50% of the bakery’s profits as rent instead of the 80% his family used to pay. And of course Johanna is outraged, that’s not right, the owner shouldn’t be allowed to do that, they should do something about it, they should fight back. And Peeta is like. Not interested. He was actually sort of relieved that opening wasn’t very feasible. Getting the answer was a lightbulb moment where he saw that over the years of trying to look into this, he’s built a life that he likes— one where he’s stable, where his loved ones are stable, where he’s cared for and can care for others— and he doesn’t really want to change it drastically by opening a bakery anyway. He just needed an answer, one way or another, before he could get some closure and move on. (And the point of the conversation is Johanna is having her own lightbulb moment that it’s okay to move on, it’s okay to change, it’s not a betrayal of the people and things she’s lost but that’s not my point here!!).

But anyway. That’s obviously not about running the bakery— it’s about the choice to not run one.

Anyway!! Anyway… are you satisfied anon? Is this what you wanted?

Lastly, here is my most important qualm with the bakery headcanon: must Peeta be gainfully employed? Is it not enough for him to be Katniss’s boytoy? Can’t he just paint and garden and bake and hang out with his girlfriend all day? Is that really too much to ask?