#if I figure out what fic that is I will add

[ilypaigebuckets]

i was wondering if you could do a fic with kate martin being too shy to ask out reader? maybe she’s like nervous or smthg?

hope you enjoy this 😇 if you want a part 2 lmk bc i feel like i ended it on a note where i could potentially make another part or just eventually edit this and add more!

Eyes on You - Kate Martin x Reader

Kate always saw you on Saturday mornings when you went into a coffee shop just outside your university to get coffee. She went there once for an early pick me up before a practice, but ever since she saw you it had become a staple part of her Saturday morning ritual.

Kate saw you today. She watched as you walked up to the barista and ordered your iced caramel latte with oat milk. She watched as you paid and put a $5 bill into the tip jar, and smiled to herself at how generous you seemed to be. She watched as you ran your fingers through your hair as you walked over to the side of the shop she was at as you waited for your drink to be made. She stared as you intently, and is mesmerized until you glance her way. That was the only thing that could bring her back to reality.

Kate had always been a go-getter. She was ambitious and once she had her eyes set on something there was no stopping her. That was until she met you. You were the one thing that she seemed too scared to chase. She wondered what it was about you that made her so scared to go for it. Could it be your dreamy eyes? Your beautiful, glowy face? Your fashionable style? Kate couldn’t seem to figure out what it was that stopped her from talking to you. So she sat there; she sat there in the corner of the coffee shop she waited for you in as you got your drink from the counter and left. She wanted to say something, anything, to you but she just couldn’t bring herself to. All she could do was keep her eyes locked on you.

Her face turned red at she brought herself back into reality, she wondered how long she’d been spaced out thinking of you. Her coffee shop crush. Kate looked at the time on her phone and sighed, it was time for practice already. She took a last sip of her matcha and tossed it as she walked out the exit.

“Kate, have you thought about, I don’t know, just talking to her?” Caitlin asked Kate facetiously. Kate was venting to her teammates about how she couldn’t bring herself to utter one word to you.

Gabbie nodded her head agreeing with Caitlin, “Yeah Kate, you don’t seem like the type to ever be at a loss for words.” The girls all laughed and Kate rolled her eyes. “Guys. I’m so serious. She is like the epitome of sunshine. She just looks like someone off of pinterest. Do you even think I could pull her?” Caitlin walked closer to Kate and patted her on the back in an attempt to brighten her spirits.

“Have some faith in yourself, Kate! Why don’t Gabbie, Jada, and I come with you next time you go? We can be your wing women or something?” Everyone laughed at Caitlin’s choice of words, but nodded and agreed this was a good starting plan for Kate. Kate folded her arms and shrugged. “I guess it couldn’t hurt. I don’t really have anything to lose.”

So the next Saturday came, and Kate, Gabbie, Jada, and Caitlin all walked into the little coffee shop right outside Iowa University. “This place is cute! We should come here more often!” Jada said to Gabbie as the bell on top of the door clinked as the four walked into the shop. Then, Kate spotted you. “Guys,” she whispered to her friends, “ok don’t look now but see that pretty girl over there? In the blue sweater? That’s her!” Kate grabbed her teammates in what looked like a mini game-day huddle so they could figure out their course of action. Kate was in a panic. Her questions ranged from asking the other three “she looks gay, right?” “have you guys seen her around before?” “what year is she in?” and a billion others. Gabbie put a hand over Kate’s mouth and Jada shushed her. “Kate,” Caitlin started to say to her, “we know you’re excited, but you’re just working yourself up. Take some deep breaths, walk over there, and ask her out. You got this.”

Kate sighed and nodded. Caitlin was right. She had done so many harder things than this, so why was this so hard for her to do? Kate started to walk over to you, but stopped herself until Jada gave her a little nudge and she kept going. Finally, she approached the place at the small island table where you sat. You took your headphones off your head and placed them around your neck and looked up from your textbook at her. “Hi! I think I’ve seen you in here before, once or twice?” You said to her with the same bright and cheery smile you always wore.

‘Yeah maybe a little more than that, yikes.’ Kate thought to herself. She cleared her throat and nodded at you. “Yeah, definitely! I’m, uh, I’m Kate! I go to Iowa just like a block from here. I assume you do too, right?” You nodded your head in response to her question. “You do? Ok, great. Cool. Well uh I was wondering if maybe I could, like, I don’t know just get your number? You’re just. God. You’re like so pretty and you seem so sweet and I don’t even know if you like, yeah, but can I just? Please?”

You looked at her like she was a lost puppy. “Okay you’re literally so cute. I’m Y/n, btw! Yes of course You can have my number here it’s xxx-xxx-xxxx.” You quickly scribbled your number on a sticky note and handed it to Kate. She looked at it in awe and smiled, “Thank you so much! Okay, I won’t keep you any longer! Well, for now that is. I’ll text you okay?”

“Nice meeting you, bye Kate! Text me!” You called after her as you watched her walk back to her friends. You saw the excited expression on her face as they all exchanged high fives and pumped their fists in the air in victory. Then, they all rushed out of the door, presumably to figure out what to text you. You smiled to yourself as you put your headphones back over your ears, but your eyes didn’t move from the door. They stayed watching it, hoping Kate would walk back through it again and the two of you could talk some more.

#wlw post #iowa wbb #kate martin x reader #kate martin #lv aces #wcbb x reader #wcbb #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #wbb x reader #wlw yearning

[brucewaynehater101]

Have you ever read a fic called A Medication On Railroading? Because I think you'll like it. Basic summery with no spoilers: Jack takes Tim on a trip to Atlanta and then leaves him in Atlanta so he goes train hopping to get home. Very hurt/comfort.

But it also gives me an idea that I'm not sure where to share. What if that wasn't Tim's first time getting home like that? Maybe the first time was just New York when he was say... 9 years old? His parents took him with them to a Gala and Jack thought Janet called him a car home and Janet thought Jack took care of it. Neither one did and Tiny Tim figured out how to get home on his own. It happens again when he's 11 so he already knows what to do, he studied up in case it happened again.

After the second time, anytime Tim is with his parents he keeps his camera bag on him at all times which has 300 dollars in it that he can use on getting home. Tim also discovers during the second one that trains are *way* better than busses and cabs. He's all alone, just him and the scenery and whatever cargo his car holds. He can Fully Relax. He doesn't have to be the perfect heir, he doesn't have to smile for the cameras, he doesn't have to be quiet or good or perfectly polite. He can scream and laugh and cry if he wants to and no one will ever know! He can sing and curse and throw rocks at things! He can be a *kid*.

After Tim becomes Robin, he never calls Batman for a pick up if he's abandoned somewhere and instead will make his own way home. Heck, after some missions with Young Justice he will turn off his trackers and ride trains home so that he can loudly vent about them without having to worry about anyone ever knowing what he said!

This does become a slight problem when he's 17 and Bruce needs him for something and finds out from Bart that their mission ended a day and a half ago. But Tim never called for pick up. And his trackers are all offline. And he never hit his emergency beacon and *no one can find him*. Bruce totally isn't freaking out. The other Bats totally aren't freaking out. Young Justice totally isn't freaking out. There totally isn't a panic spreading through the super hero community about Red Robin maybe being dead I a ditch somewhere and how both Batman and his team will react.

Tim meanwhile is straight vibing as he reclines on a stack of bags of rice like they're pillows, singing along to some sound track he downloaded onto his MP3 player, having turned the volume to max and nearly screaming the lyrics because it's the one time he feels like he can.

Yes! I love that fic you mentioned. It's really really good. Perhaps I should re read it since it's been a minute.

Also, I absolutely adore the little tidbit you've added. A few things to note that I love about it:

No one else knows/finds out until he's Red Robin

It's a semi-decent coping mechanism. He gets to chill out, vibe, and process. He's also in touch with nature and music during this.

Tim drops his various masks to simply exist for a bit

Tim chilling on some rice bags in a train cart with an MP3 player (not even his phone. This indicates he's fully offline during these trips)

A few additional notes to add. One, this could buff up the canon notion that pre-Robin Tim traveled far to go see Dick at the circus and convince him to become Robin again. If Tim had already done that twice unexpectedly, he'd do swell when he actually plans to do it.

Two, Tim probably created a white noise generator or something to give him totally privacy on his "me trips." This is why Kon and Superman freak out. They can't hear him.

Three, he probably gets covered in grime, dust, and dirt. He's no longer in the pristine environment he grew up in.

Gods. That sounds so nice and relaxing. I'm actually kind of jealous. Just the wind, music, and the slowly changing scenery? Fuuuck.

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #dc au #thank you for the ask!!!!

[kelcemenow]

Netflix And Thrill.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 363

Warnings Nothing really, one curse word is all!

Another Anon request here, and I really liked this concept for a fic. Plus, I actually can imagine Travis like this! Plus plus...it's an excuse to bring College Trav back! "could you perhaps do a fluffy/domestic short fic about watching a horror movie with trav and him getting scared? usually the girls get scared but i figured a role reversal could be interesting?"

Without looking down, your fingers scooped up a handful of the sweet and salty popcorn before you shovelled it into your open mouth. Your eyes were wide with engrossment, the speakers around you pumping out atmospheric string sounds.

You felt Travis shift his body weight on the sofa and the blanket that was draped lightly across your knees began to slide further away from you.

"No...no no no no!" He groaned quietly.

You glanced to your right to see his eyes peering over the blanket that he had clutched in his large hands. His eyebrows were sloped upwards with concern and you couldn't help the smirk on your face.

You leaned closer to him, whispering, "Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine." He said, clearing his throat quietly and slightly lowering the blanket.

You turned back towards the screen, smiling to yourself, "You're never going to let me choose what we watch for Movie Night ever again, are you?"

"Naw, this is fine." His voice heightened in it's pitch, "I just thought a comedy or something might have been more your style?"

You pulled your knees closer to your chest, moving the popcorn bowl onto the small coffee table in front of you, "You clearly don't know me well enough."

Travis turned his head, his face only inches away from yours, "In that case, I'll have to get to know you a bit better."

"Oh yeah? How are you going to do that?" You purred, your head tipping to one side.

"Imma take you on a date."

You took a breath, noticing your heart beginning to beat faster. You stared into Travis' intoxicating eyes, fully immersing yourself in the tension that was thick in the air.

Without warning, a loud and bloodcurdling scream blasted from the television speakers and Travis leapt from the sofa before clutching onto you with both of his hands and swiftly burying his face against your chest.

"Jesus, fuck!" He said breathlessly.

You giggled and reached across to recover your popcorn before balancing it on your knee. You threw a flake up into the air, catching it effortlessly into your mouth whilst Travis remained safely ensconced in the blanket.

______________________________________________________________

I enjoy doing these little cute ones, probably more than I enjoy writing the big long series'. Requests should be open again soon once I've worked my way through the existing pile!

If you don't want to miss my next fic, just let me know and I will add you to my Taglist!

Taglist  @rd14 @dandelionwrites8 @keiva1000 @fantasywritersstuff @caelipartem @anacarangel @she-lives-in-her-dreams @kkrenae @kristencochefski1125 

@countrygirl120983 @charmed2000 @nouis-bum @cixrosie @delicateearthquakellama @wordsaresimple-imnot @amylouwho9 @queenisa17 @talicat713 

@luvvtrent @purecinnamonextract @savaneafricaine @caelipartem @beyxgrande @caitdaniels @ezgirl1108 @vir-tual @lightsoutstyles @macey234 

@s294749w @kelcemesoftly @calirindo @livinginmyfantasies @bernelflo @secretmywritingfictionlawyer @killatravtramp @there-goes-thefighter @unicornblueberry 

@calirindo @tjkelce87 @kristinamae093 @kmc1989 @ajbird18 @triski73 @ctn26 @kgcaputo07 @abby-splace @bobthe-turmpetman29 

@cedricbitch @abby-splace @jmamas92 @bellstwd @killatravsworld @marchmaiden @chimchimmarie @blackstabbath6 @fanficfanatic15 @jessiemariebarnes 

@mmb219 @vanwritesfan-fiction @futebollover @ks-dreams-fantasies @laurenmcucm @blackstabbath6 @nickie-amore @fictionqueen87 @munsonburner666 @hornyavengers

@spookystitchery @powellssaturn @skywalker0809 @shortttcakkee @my-secret-hideaway @shelbygeek @mimisweetz @wildxwidow

#travis kelce x reader #travis kelce imagine #kelce x reader #nfl imagine #original story #travis kelce fic #travis kelce #travis kelce fluff #nfl fluff #travis kelce smut #travis kelce angst #nfl smut #nfl angst #nfl fic #kelcemenow requests

[finniestoncrane]

I'm here with my boyfriend, Nick Valentine. Romantic Comedy. Front row.

I'll have salted popcorn, banana ice cream, and a cup of ranch.

Thank you so much

(God lord I'm sorry the order sounds stupid. Also I'm sorry for my stupid message about really old monster movies. I gave you like... 12 messages on just that)

HOORAY!! my first nick valentine fic!! i love this old man so much ;-; (also don't worry all the orders sound a bit nuts, there's only so much cinema food i could add before i had to start putting in condiments lmao) 💚🩷 cw: just pure fluff here 🔞minors dni🔞 send a request • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie2k (to follow or to block)

"I think I've got this thing working. Took a lot though. It's a bit of an antique, and a rusty one at that."

"Takes one to know one, huh?"

Nick looked up from the projector, his degloved hand still fiddling with the dials, his eyes narrowing as your playful teasing registered with him.

"You're lucky I put up with you, kid."

He shot a quick smile in your direction before he heaved himself up, walking towards the pile of film reels to take a look through them. You crouched down by the second pile, searching for a horror, as if there wasn't enough of that in your day to day life.

"Well, well... what have we here?"

You turned to Nick who was as giddy as you'd ever seen him, presenting you with one of the reels.

"A noir detective movie? Really?"

"Don't knock it before you've tried it. This one was my favourite."

"I don't know... I'm more in it for a horror movie."

"You don't think we live through enough horror movies as it is?"

Scoffing, you folded your arms.

"You don't think I live through enough noir detective movies as it is?"

Nick tossed his film to you, catching you off guard and causing you to drop the one you held in your hands.

"You got a piss-poor negotiation style, kid, you know that?"

That was it. Argument over. But given how excited he had seemed, you couldn't help but go along with it. And once you had the film in the projector and made sure it was showing on the decrepit screen, you followed him back outside to a rusted car. He opened the door for you and then walked around to the other side, sitting on the bench seating beside you and lighting up a cigarette.

The seat creaked below him, a spring bursting out and pressing into him. You giggled a little, standing up and pulling him over to your side before sitting down in his lap.

"Is this really comfortable? We could try another car."

"I like being close to you, Nick. Makes me feel safe."

He smiled, just a quick expression before he coughed and distracted you both from that sweet sentiment.

"This is a great way to waste an afternoon. I promise, you'll love it this movie."

And you did, if only because it reminded you so much of Nick. If only because as you sat in his lap you could feel his excitement. It was soothing, to watch him experience some joy, some relaxation. Soothing enough that you hadn't quite realised that you were falling asleep until Nick shifted you awake.

"Hey, you're going to miss the ending."

"It's ok, I think I figured it out. The detective saves the day and the world feels better for having him around."

"How did you know?"

The sarcasm in his voice was evident, but you chose to ignore it as you buried your head back into his chest and tried to go back to sleep.

"Just a hunch."

#finnie2k #finnie writes #x reader #nick valentine

[antianakin]

Hey what’s your opinion on Jedi x Clone ships?

Given that I've got an entire fic rec list for Codywan fics that still gets passed around every so often, it can't come as a surprise that I like Jedi x Clone ships.

I know why people dislike them, I understand that the inherent power imbalance (especially if the story is set during the Clone Wars and not post war either canon compliant or fix-it AU) is a sticking point for certain people and that's fine. I just don't share that discomfort.

I love the inherent tragedy of the relationship between the Jedi and the clones. I love the way they are each other's saviors and each other's inevitable doom. I love the ways they come to rely on each other and trust each other in ways they can't with anybody else. I love the ways that they end up so similar in their values despite how differently they were raised and taught. I love the way those values bring them together and create a stronger bond than any of them probably anticipated. I love the angst that comes with the post-Order 66 scenarios where they have to figure out how to deal with all of the feelings of betrayal and guilt on both sides. I love how that history both hurts and heals sometimes.

My love for the more general Jedi and clone relationships allows me to find the romantic Jedi x clone ships really compelling because it takes all of those elements I love and adds in a different intimate perspective to have to view it all through. How does the addition of a romance change that relationship? Does it help or hurt in the long run? Would it work if there wasn't a war keeping them connected already? Is there an expectation of something "more" later on or is it just two people trying to find comfort any way they can? How DO they deal with the problem of power in the relationship? How does this impact their relationships with other Jedi and clones?

Both groups sort-of view each other a little homogenously a first. The clones have no way of knowing the Jedi as individuals and are taught to just obey all Jedi equally regardless of who they are. The Jedi are introduced to the clones as a mass and only get to know them better after they have to take over leadership of them. The realization that the other group is, in fact, not quite what they might have thought is SUCH a cool thing to explore. The relationship building FROM that realization that actually these people are so much more like them than they thought and that similarity creating a connection just tugs at my heartstrings. I love the growth from the Jedi maybe seeing that the clones need more guidance, more teaching, to the clones finding their own footing and ending up more of an equal to the Jedi specifically BECAUSE of their relationship with the Jedi showing them they can be.

I just find it beautiful. There is beauty in tragedy, and the Jedi/clone dynamic, romantic or otherwise, is the perfect example of it to me.

#star wars #jedi #clone troopers #pro jedi

[blue-devil-of-the-lord]

Current request/ stuff I'm working on

[(Doing this so I won't get any stuff double. As much as I love your ideas, sometimes it's very similar, so I try to avoid it with this :) Also it allows me to show you that I recieved your request. This is not the rank in which the stuff will be updated]

Nightcrawler:

Opposites Attract: (97!Kurt x gn!reader), requested by anonymous I was wondering if you could write 97 Kurt with a gn reader who has a very obvious crush on him, but they're quiet and basically the opposite of him? I'm kinda a timid and awkward person so I think he'd basically be the extrovert to adopt my introverted self

Fleeting Glances, Lingering Smiles: (Kurt x fem!reader), requested by anonymous Can I please have Kurt Wagner x Fem!Reader who is a telepath and an empath? Oh, she is also the daughter of Charles Xavier. Also, the reader is a very sweet, kind and understanding girl who dotes on the guy

Beneath the Summer Sky: (Alan!Kurt x gen!reader), requested by @pompeii-for-elephants Would you be up to writing a gender neutral reader and Kurt fic where they are not together yet but both adore each other. Reader makes no secret of their affection, always showering Kurt with compliments and gifts, and all around spoiling him. Kurt is also a flirt, as always, but neither have made that move to bluntly state their intent. But it comes to a head at a summer pool party where tensions boil over. Feel free to add or change details wherever you want

Paper Hearts: (Kurt x fem!reader), requested by anonymous Oooh~ can I request a Kurt Wagner x fem!reader fic of Kurt writing anonymous love letters to reader? (Kurt is such a romantic at heart and I feel like he'd write the most heartfelt letters). His heart yearns for her, dude spends 50% of his time pining after her and the other 50% trying to work up the courage to confess, but he's just too shy to say anything about it yet. She soon figures out that Kurt is the one sending the letters and confesses that she's had a crush on him for months.

Belonging in my arms: (97!Kurt x fem!reader), requested by @cenittynadir Can you please make a one-shot about Nightcrawler (Xmen 97) getting jealous about an old malefriend of femreader? Maybe Kurt just wanting her attention aferter a long mission but she is spending too much time with this friend without noticing

A Dance with Divinity: (Kurt x reader), requested by anonymous "I don't know how to become one with you. If you're heaven, then tell me - I will kneel to every god. If you're hell, then tell me - I will fill the earth with sin" I need need NEED you to write Kurt with quote in mind. Idc if you use the quote itself or just the general vibe of it, I NEED THIS TYPE OF ROMANCE FROM HIM

But when the curtain falls... :(Kurt x reader), requested by anonymous Could you possibly write a scenario where the reader and nightcrawler have a crush on each other but they both think they have no chance? Kurt sees his "demonic" appearance and thinks the reader would never want him, while the reader sees Kurt as beautiful and confident and flirtatious and is sure that he'd want someone else

Lines crossed: (Kurt x reader) requested by anonymous I had this stupid idea of Magneto taking on an apprentice/mentee like Professor X and Cyclops. I need Magneto pulling the protective self-appointed dad moment when he sees his kid getting a little too close to Kurt for his liking. Headcanons or one shot, your work, you decide what works best

Social System Error: (97!Kurt x reader), requested by anonymous If possible, I need an introverted reader with barely any social skills who starts to malfunction whenever a certain blue is around. When confronted, reader is basically 'you're too pretty' and almost dies of embarrassment

Mending Broken Wings: (97!Kurt x reader), requested by anonymous I NEED someone to offer our favorite blue elf some comfort. Kurt is always there to support other, but who is there for him

An Unexpected Visitor: (Kurt x reader), requested by anonymous If you’re still taking asks, can you write something about Kurt being all cheeky and visiting reader at work?

From 'Maybe Someday' to 'Always': (Kurt x reader), requested by @elizabethnightingale4 Kurt/Reader announce their engagement after years of “will they won’t they”?

Sweetening the Deal (Kurt x gn!reader), requested by @promulticlasser Kurt reminding a gn s/o with anemia to make sure they're taking their iron. They don't really like taking the pills because of the taste so maybe he could find a fun way to make it taste better.

Cyclops (no requests open):

I'm not his wife!: (Scott x fem!reader) 5 times they've been called "work husband and wife" and 1 time they leave out the "work"

#masterlist #writing guide #kurt wagner x reader #scott summers x reader

[8-dermestid]

im gonna type abt my designs bc my back hurts and i do but want to get up and grab my sketchbook and share images

Bive (📞)

- kind of cockroach-based, got the idea after watching a clip of a halloween hissing cockroach completely ignoring an apple slice

- mostly bc she is slippery and people do not tend to like cockroaches very much (i gave her antennae for this reason wahaha)

- some older sketches give her teeth, i’m still figuring out how i want to draw her mouth

Split (🍌)

- Kind of th same, my original design gave her hexagonal glasses bc i like the way it contrasts with Bive’s shape language…

(bive is very spiky and organic, the hexagons are quite a stable shape, though the hexagon glasses brought in a bee motif so they were switched back to her big, square ones)

- gave her new antennae/feelers instead of the ones she had, i drew her and Bive communicating with their antennae!!!

- ooh and floppy dog ears.

Pilby (🐛)

- i kept a lot of them the same bc i rlly like their design as is, i just gave them a sweater with their body’s stripe / polka dot pattern

- i may try to give them more caterpillar features

- ooh, i have been thinking about giving them one of those squirty-flowers instead of their bowtie, some sketches show that,,

Pest (🥩)

- has a elyta, mayhaps will also give them wings…

-i saw someone give them a more smooth silhouette (like the letter n and their head with wings peeking out from the back, it was really cool)

- might also give them a buzzcut to give them a guest-y haircut while still giving them hair to ay with

- feelers too!! also their jacket would have the roblox logo and the text on the back i just didn’t add it to reduce clutter

Infected (🍬)

- glasses are actually shutter shades, and gave em more infected bits bc i think they’re really awesome.

- sagging pants, it’s what the public (my friends) wanted

- sigh… oh…hypoglycemic they-them…..literally breaking down from infection but they’ll be okay

PartNoob (🪅)

- fat party fella… yaya

- gave them cat features but i dunno… mayhaps bugish…

- covered in confetti and glitter all the time, they would have loved the club in 2007

-spinterest is partying and celebrating LOL, there is a n item that looks exactly like the animal jam party hats so i gave them the purple one lol

i have lots of pictures and lots of fic ideas… mostly splive bc i gave em both antennae….. i will be able to work in them once finals are done and dealt with🥩

#regretevator pilby #regretevator split #split regretevator #regretevator roblox #roblox regretevator #regretevator art #regretevator fanart #regretavator #regretevator bive #regretevator #bive regretevator #infected regretevator #regretevator infected #party noob #regretevator party noob #regretevator poob #pest regretevator #regretevator pest

[wishitweresummer]

oooo congrats on 300!!! that's really really cool omg

what about passenger princess/backseat princess?? what inspired those ones

- cal <3

Oooh Passenger Princess/Backseat Princess!!!

Thank you so much Cal <333

I actually wrote the entirety of Passenger Princess in a blurry 3 hours after finishing @mushiewrites ‘s lee!George week. I had just spent so much time thinking about George being tortured and couldn’t help myself. I already really like car tickle stories and there was some piece inside of me that was just so so hungry for more lee!George.

In my earlier years, a lot of my tickle interactions did happen in cars actually. Mostly because I have strict parents so when I wanted to do something insane like kiss somebody it would be somewhere in a parking lot in the backseat of my car. And I’m a tickle monster, and also most of my friends are too because of me. So. There’s a little expose on moment on me.

I actually found the moment I was inspired to write it. I was reading non-tickle fanfiction and it was one of those scenes where it just seems like it’s about to lead up into a tickle scene, but doesn’t obviously. But, my brain just kept going with it.

(I have tried very hard to find this fic so can link it, but it’s impossible! I reverse searched the entire section of words into google and even went through my history on ao3 carefully on that day and nothing! If you recognize it, lemme know!)

For Backseat Princess, it was really just self indulgence for me wanting to torture George more. The fic is not realistic at all. The brutality of dragging him back to the car and the actual logistics of tickle torturing somebody in a car in Florida is kind of crazy. Just, pure self indulgence.

( @awkwardtickleetoo and @mushiewrites )

Like, I fantasized about George-torture and these maniacs encouraged me smh.

#wishitweresummer #300 followers!!! #if I figure out what fic that is I will add

[marragurl]

Saxaphone player Gallagher has not left my mind since the jazz night art dropped AND THEN Robin saying Halovian’s innately have good voices and Sunday used to hum lullabies to her as kids happened in the 2.2 special program, and I’m sure you guys can see where my unfortunate Galladay heart is going with this.

Whoever decided to make this art, I love you. I hope your pillow is cool every night, you’re never stuck in traffic, and your water is refreshing with every sip.

Also the art of Sunday with the White Gentlemen drink in the S.P.A.R.K.L.E jazz night event has also spiraled into me delusionally thinking that’s his go to drink. Which is hilarious since Robin has hinted before that he seems to have a massive sweet tooth in her letters.

(Sunday how do you even make holding a drink menacing, Sunday please get some therapy-)

So imagine this:

Pre 2.0 Galladay, where they’re both wary and suspicious of each other but didn’t do anything outright. Sunday slowly began to visit Gallagher’s bar whenever he had time to observe the Hound, initially on the down low just to get a sense of what he was working with and what to keep an eye on. He always gravitated to that one corner booth that every bar had with the most privacy, and just stalked there for a few hours before leaving. (Smol menacing birb in a tree vibes)

Gallagher obviously knew that Sunday was doing this (even though everyone else seemed to somehow completely miss him, Gallagher wouldn’t be surprised if Sunday was doing some weird Harmony mind tricks), and after the first few “stakeouts,” he bit the bullet and actually approached the table to engage with Sunday, on the off chance this was some weird “test of loyalty” by the Halovian to see if the Hound would swallow his pride to serve his so-called masters.

Nothing terrible happened, but he remained passive-aggressively polite when serving him, and Sunday remained passive-aggressively cool-headed in response. There was some snark of what dear “sweet-toothed” Sunday would want at a bar, and an icy reply of “aren’t you the master drink smith? Why don’t you show me those skills you boasted about?” which led to Gallagher being petty and giving Sunday the White Gentlemen drink, both for the story behind it being such a metaphor for Sunday, and because it was on the more bitter side of alcoholic drinks.

Sunday wasn’t too against the drink; it wasn’t something he would have ordered if it had been his choice, but it wasn’t a bad drink by any means. He couldn’t help but continue to drink it even after Gallagher left his little hidey booth to go back to the main bar, but he’d never stoop so low as to complement the Hound. Of course, he never ordered anything else from then on, only White Gentleman. In fact, over time it seemed to slowly get better, the flavors grew on him, and he couldn't help but look forward to it during difficult nights in the Dreamscape.

If Gallagher tried to needle him into a different drink, Sunday just bit back a “oh? Admitting defeat? I thought this was your best drink for me?” with a little smirk while Gallagher had to use every bit of self-control to not punch him in the face.

As time went on, the bar slowly became a place Sunday frequented to not quite relax, but to get away from the hustle and bustle of Penacony and his duties as one of its main faces. The stresses slowly started piling up, especially with the Charmony fast approaching in a few months and all that came with it.

Gallagher didn’t seem to loosen up regarding his attitude with Sunday, but he did get better at shoving down the visceral hatred he had for everything to do with The Family and Sunday as time went on. He didn’t get soft with Sunday per se, but he definitely kept an eye out for him, and definitely knew when to cut off his drinks on days where it seemed that Sunday wasn’t all that there for their usual veiled comments towards one another when he went to serve him his drink.

It started small, with Sunday staying later and later until sometimes he was the last one to leave the bar to return to reality. Gallagher wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, still wasn’t quite sure this wasn’t some weird long-term test Sunday was devising, especially since he still seemed to be the same ruthless Family member, the same Head of the Oak Family, when Gallagher was working as a Bloodhound outside the bar. For some reason though, within the enclosed space of this strange sanctuary, it was almost peaceful between the two.

One night, there was something wrong when Sunday entered the bar during Gallagher’s shift. He saw a bit of a crowd near the small stage that was within eyesight of his little hidey booth, it seemed some of the musicians of the live band were arguing? He watched as Gallagher came over, seemed to try to speak with the group before honing in on one of the musicians who had been making the most noise and seemed to be about to get physical with the rest. Sunday watched as Gallagher picked up the musician by the scruff of their suit with one hand and carried them towards the doors and lightly tossed them out.

(It was the first time Sunday had actually seen Gallagher perform anything resembling the actual duty of a Bloodhound. It only hit him that he’d only ever seen the other when giving reports, orders, or at the bar. Why was this so shocking to him, he’d seen the man’s arms before, hard not to with his slovenly dress and messy clothing style, as if he couldn’t bother to hide away his imperfections from the world, not like Sunday who refused to be seen by the world, to dare to show one thing off about himself despite his countless failings- he’s getting far too distracted by one meager showing of strength, focus Sunday)

There had always been a live music segment. Sunday was curious to see what would happen with the band missing a member, but was distracted by Gallagher placing his usual White Gentlemen in front of him before heading back to the musicians without a single word to him. Gallagher took a moment to speak with the rest of the band, who seemed to be coming out of their shock and took on worried looks. Sunday could only watch in muted shock as Gallagher went behind the bar and came back with a case, opening it to reveal a saxophone. He then went on stage with the rest of the group, positioned himself further to the side and in the back amongst the shadows within Sunday’s line of sight, and played with the band for the rest of the night.

Sunday couldn’t look away.

He was frozen as he watched Gallagher seamlessly transition from song to song, taking only small breaks to continue serving the other patrons before heading back in. Sunday only remembered about his own drink when his gloves began to get wet from the ice melting into condensation on his glass.

Something felt off within Sunday, and for the first time since Robin’s debut, he couldn't help humming to the music of the band, music that wasn’t of his own sister’s making. He couldn’t help but remember those little concerts the two would have, taking care of his little sister, his only world. He would do anything to keep the Harmony, to keep their family going. When was the last time they truly spent time together? Before he became the Head of the Oak Family? Before he couldn't recognize his own smile?

He was so lost in his thoughts, in memories he thought he buried, that he didn’t realize that it was once again closing time, and he was once again the last one left. He only snapped out of it when Gallagher came by to grab his empty glass, only quirking a questioning brow at him before heading back to the bar.

Gallagher had been keeping a quiet eye on the Halovian that night from the back of the band, in the shadows he felt the most comfort in when in the Dreamscape of Penacony. He had watched Sunday’s eyes glaze over, and the only reason he hadn’t felt offended by the seeming disinterest was the look in the other man’s eyes reminding him of his own when he looked in the mirror. The same look of shame, regret, loss, longing, of the wishes to regain everything he had lost. The same look he strove to hide under every bit of the facade he had crafted of this new self, but came back all too often with every reference of the Family found within his prison in the Dreamscape.

Maybe it was the shared nostalgia within his own heart, that little bit of his true self that he thought died when the Family tore out everything that made him who he was, that made him return behind the bar and begin making Sunday another White Gentlemen, giving Sunday a small nod to beckon him over. He wasn’t expecting anything from it, and he masked his own surprise when Sunday actually left his little shelter to come and take a seat in front of him at the bar. Even while out of it, Gallagher made note of the quiet confidence the other still carried himself. Nothing seemed wrong to anyone else looking at him, only for the lost look in his eyes.

The first time in the many months that they’ve been skirting around each other, and finally they seemed to be face to face.

It was quiet as Gallagher made Sunday his usual drink, a drink he had been slowly changing over the months to be sweeter and sweeter that Sunday never quite seemed to notice, or if he did, he never said anything, only seeming to savor it more each subsequent night. Maybe not even Gallagher noticed his own changes to the drink, subtle as they were.

It was quiet as Sunday took the finished drink, and it was quiet as his eyes slid over the bartop to see the saxophone case laying open with the instrument inside. It was quiet as Gallagher followed his eyes, as he came out from behind the bartop to take the saxophone out and take a seat in a chair only one seat down from Sunday’s. It was quiet as Gallagher began to play to his audience of one.

It was quiet as Sunday quietly hummed along.

It was quiet as they both knew that it would not last.

OK yea so this was all because I heard ‘La vie en rose’ at the end of the Jazz night event and went “Damn I wish that’s Gallagher playing on his Sax” and then we spiraled.

Uh. Idk what it is with me having a small ship moment which then spirals into a full blown writing session. My mind blanked out and as I came to I find out that I made a whole ass little one shot over here then completely forgot about it WHOOPS

So yea, hope my fellow Galladay enjoyers… enjoyed! I think I’ve slowly begun to crave… not domestic or fluff per se from these two, but after every AO3 fic being super dark between them (which I get! They are the toxic yaoi kings of Penacony as of writing this, no one is denying that!) I think I want to see them be explored in a more melancholic sense. Not quite the “forbidden” love angle, but in the “damn we kinda have some parallels, and maybe in another life we could have gotten along but there’s too much baggage and anger, both historically and currently to really even try anything”

I have this feeling this may not be the last time I write about these two… is Galladay going to be the ship that gets me to actually use my AO3 account?

#hsr #honkai star rail #hsr gallagher #hsr sunday #galladay #idk what I’m doing anymore #they’ve kinda taken over my mind #shoutout to that one ao3 fic where both of them go “’this wasn’t supposed to happen’ as they’re making out #that’s the exact vibes I’m feeling when I think about these two pre-relationship #of course we don’t run away from angst in this ship #everything follows exactly up until the 2.1 end credits scene #let’s see what happens in 2.2 #I NEED ANSWERS #ALSO MISHA #I WANNA THROW GALLAGHER AND MISHA’S KINDA WHOLESOME RELATIONSHIP IN HERE TWO #idk wtf is going on there #but until 2.2 explains #Gallagher is misha’s weird drunk uncle/dad figure #it adds more comedy to Galladay whether Sunday knows of/can see Misha or not either way #oof new writing idea #next time #I need to work on tagging #this is just another post all on its own

[cuteiemonster]

He sighed heavily, fatigue weighing on his shoulders as he raised a trembling hand to rub at his weary eyes. He didn't know how long he'd been fixated on the flickering screens, desperately searching for answers amidst the chaos that unfolded before him.

My piece for the @mcytblraufest !! One of them, at the very least!

I had a blast working on this for @canadiankakashi 's fic, [ ASHES TO ASHES ]. If you enjoy the idea of Glitches and Bugs being actual bugs and eldritch abominations, boy do I have the fic for you!!

#xisumavoid #hermitcraft #mcyt au fest #mcytblraufest23 #idk what else to tag this with. if anyone needs anything else let me know ! #giggles as i add the xisuma tag. yes thats X. if you squint hard enough he has green on him. just trust me bro #no but seriously this was fun and i was GOING to base my piece off the bugs but alas. #i drew messed up bugs anyways i just didnt have the brainpower to figure out a composition that i liked for those ones </3 #but this one. i like it a lot. this fic is so fun and i had a genuine blast reading it [ does a silly little dancey dance ] #points at all of you. read it. NOW.!!!!!!!!

[luxaofhesperides]

those who serve.

CHAPTER THREE: a transition.

chapter one, chapter two or the full fic on ao3.

how did i write 10k.... my self-control is nonexistent. enjoy.

.

.

.

“Is there anyone else who works here?” 

Alfred stops to consider the question, then turns to face Danny, bringing a stop to their tour of the manor. “On occasion. Many galas or events require specific companies to set up and organize the spaces open to the public. I also hire a landscaping company once a year to tend to the yard, and a cleaning company to set every room in the manor straight.”

Danny hums thoughtfully. They’ve been walking through the manor for around an hour now and have only just finished the first floor. Alfred is very in-depth for this tour, speaking of not only what each room is, but also brief snippets of the history of the Wayne family, supplemented by a multitude of portraits hanging in the hallways. 

“But there’s no one else to help with daily tasks? It’s just you?”

“That is correct. There was a full staff many years ago, but they had left after Master Bruce’s parents had died. I alone remained to care for Master Bruce and the Manor.”

“And no one else ever came by to help? Bruce didn’t offer to hire anyone to help you?” 

Bruce had been nice so far, letting Danny into his home and office, promising to work out the details for him alongside Tim. They had gotten a strange look on their faces when Danny reluctantly admitted that he didn’t legally exist and had no social security number to put into the paperwork. Stranger, though, was the fact that they didn’t ask any follow up questions besides basic information about himself: age, date of birth, allergies and medical conditions. 

And then they said they’d get it all sorted out and sent him on his way with Alfred, who had appeared behind him without him noticing.

It’s all very suspicious. Danny’s starting to worry that the Wayne’s might be leading a mob; he knows getting legal identification and records for him will involve some illegal work. Nice of them to do it, but still a reason why he can’t trust them.

“Though it has come up occasionally,” Alfred says, “I have refused each person who sought employment here. There have been too many people who wished to take advantage of the Wayne family’s wealth and fame. I have found plans for hostage situations, theft, even selling personal secrets to magazines.”

“Yikes,” Danny winces. “That sucks. So why did you agree to take me on? Shouldn’t you have done like, I don’t know, a background check?”

“I only need to know if you are a good person.” Alfred smiles at him and places a hand on his shoulder. “You are a very good person, Danny. I would be honored to entrust the family to you.”

Tears well up in Danny’s eyes. He blinks them away quickly, trying to hide how touched he is. No one’s ever trusted him so much, or so quickly. Even as Phantom, back in Amity Park, it took a long time for people to trust that he wanted to keep them safe. Sam and Tucker may have believed in him to protect them when things got rough, but they also saw first hand all his blunders and mistakes. 

Alfred doesn’t see any of that. He sees a homeless teen with nothing to his name, no family or home or possessions, and is willingly putting his trust in him. 

Danny wants to prove him right. He wants to show that he can be trusted, that this isn’t a mistake. He’ll take on the whole world if that’s what it means. 

“Thanks,” he manages to get out.

“Think nothing of it, Danny.” With a final pat to his shoulder, Alfred steps away and continues the tour, leading Danny through the second floor. 

Much of the manor looks the same: big and expensive. There are so many paintings and portraits and fancy rugs everywhere. There’s potted plants and vases set out on display, statue busts and sculptures. It’s a little dizzying to think about so Danny tries to put it all out of his mind and just go with the flow.

He’s going to spend so much time getting lost here, he can already tell.

Alfred is a good guide. It’s too bad that Danny’s spotty memory is going to make this tour be mostly useless.

Still, walking through the manor is a nice reprieve from his conversation in Bruce’s office. 

It stays nice up until they reach the family wing, where everyone’s bedrooms are. Alfred’s just going over whose rooms are never to be entered without explicit permission, and whose rooms need to be checked every few days to be cleaned.

Danny’s listening attentively, trying to memorize each name and match it to a door, noting which ones are keep out and which ones are clean occasionally. 

He’s listening until a sudden chill races up his spine and his spins around, placing himself in front of Alfred on instinct as he readies himself for a fight. He didn’t hear anyone behind him, didn’t feel the same coldness that alerted him to a ghost nearby, but there was a shift in the air, a warning that he needs to be on his guard.

There’s a girl in front of him. She had snuck up behind him completely silently and he almost didn’t notice her presence at all. 

It’s hard to tell how old she is. She must be older than him, surely, but she looks youthful enough to be any age over fifteen. Her eyes are dark and even though she smiles at him, Danny can only see her as a threat. It doesn’t matter that her body is fully relaxed and her hands are open; she doesn’t need to move to be dangerous. She just is.

“Miss Cassandra,” Alfred greets warmly. “You didn’t come down for breakfast.”

“Slept in,” she says, “Smoothie?”

“I shall make you one after I finish giving Danny a tour of the manor.”

Cassandra nods and looks over Danny, eyes scanning him carefully. “New brother?” she asks.

“No,” Danny says before Alfred can answer. “Definitely not. I’m… working for Alfred? Will be working with Alfred? I don’t know the official name for the position I’m going to get.”

“You are to be my apprentice. And later on, a butler much like myself. Traditionally, there is strict schooling a butler must undergo to gain that title, but this family has never been traditional itself. It will work out with time.” 

Butler school is a thing? That almost distracts Danny enough to stop paying attention to Cassandra. Almost. 

He steps back when she reaches for him and Alfred moves out from behind him. “She will not harm you,” he says to Danny quietly, though he has no doubt Cassandra can hear every word, “And she will not touch you so long as you tell her not to.”

“I will not hurt,” she confirms. “Hand? For hello?” Then she signs something and looks at him expectantly.

“I don’t know ASL.”

She holds out a hand. “For hello,” she repeats. 

It clicks, then, that she’s asking for a handshake. Warily, he reaches out to shake her hand, and despite his fear, her grip is light and easy to break if needed. 

“Cass,” she says. “Welcome.”

“Danny,” he returns, “Thanks. I guess I’ll be seeing you around a lot? Since I’ll be working here.”

She nods. “My room is off limits. Ask first.”

“You got it.” Danny pulls his hand away, glad that she didn’t pull a Bruce and keep hold of him. He gives her a weak thumbs up which she returns enthusiastically.

Then she turns to Alfred and asks, “Little brothers?”

“Master Damian has gone to school and Master Tim is in the study. Though he may have left to work downstairs. I shall call you up when I have made your smoothies.”

“Lots of fruit,” she says, “No green.” And she waves goodbye and disappears down the hallway, heading for the staircase. 

It’s only as she’s leaving that Danny realizes he can’t hear her footsteps at all. She’s clearly not floating like he is, but she’s completely silent anyways. The way she moves makes it seem like she’s either about to start twirling around and dancing, or throw herself into a fight. 

This family is definitely a mob family. She’s probably one of their best enforcers.

“Miss Cassandra will often leave without warning. She will return just as suddenly. She can take care of herself more than other members of this family, but she cannot be trusted with laundry,” Alfred says.

“Oh. Okay.”

Danny stares at Alfred, wondering if he’s going to say anything about how obviously dangerous she is, but all he does is nod and start walking again. He doesn’t want to bring up her unusual way of speaking—it’s probably rude to ask about such things, and Danny doesn’t want to be kicked out for being insensitive—and chalks it up to a language development issue and puts it out of his mind. 

He can understand her and she can understand him. That’s all they need.

The tour continues without any issues. No one else pops in to surprise him and the walk through the yard to the greenhouse is nice and relaxing. 

Danny’s especially looking forward to helping Alfred out there. Trimming back hedges, weeding flower beds, tending to the herb and vegetable gardens; it’s so nice to live someplace that isn’t ecto-contaminated. It’s actually safe to eat all the plants that are growing out there. 

It’s a nice change from what he’s used to.

By the time they get back to the kitchen, it’s been a few hours. Danny’s starting to feel the pull of sleep, unused to being awake while the sun is up. He’ll have to stop being nocturnal if he intends to work this job.

He can’t help Alfred during the busiest hours of the day if he’s knocked out and snoring before ten in the morning. 

Alfred, being who he is, gently ushers Danny into a seat at the table then bustles around the kitchen, setting out a blender and a few large glasses. 

“I can help,” Danny starts, rising to stand.

“I’m sure you can, but not today,” Alfred says, pinning Danny in place with a stern glare. “I know you are tired. Rest a while and we shall work out your accommodations after I am finished here.”

“I can just come back later. I’ve got a place to sleep in the city.”

“Absolutely not. We have more than enough empty beds here.”

A bed does sound nice. Waking up on a concrete floor or with a crick in his neck from sitting up against a wall all day is unpleasant. A bed with pillows and blankets? While it was normal for him once, now it sounds like heaven.

He’ll ignore the Wayne family being a mob for a good bed. 

In fact, Danny will even settle for a subpar bed, though he’ll be bitter about rich people not spending their money on decent mattresses. 

So he sits and watches Alfred make smoothies, chopping up fruit and dropping ice into the blender. His eyes start closing, slowly, and he forces himself not to slump onto the table and pass out. Falling asleep in the kitchen is nothing new to him, but this isn’t his home. This is his future workplace and he needs to learn how to be professional, but he’s sure step one is don’t fall asleep at the table.

Danny is so close to failing step one. 

“Hey Alfred,” he says, trying to stay awake, “How much time do you spend cooking?”

“Quite a lot. I often spend mornings preparing every meal for the day so lunch and dinner can be quickly made.”

“It doesn’t leave you much time to do other things, right?”

“I suppose so.”

Danny nods, biting back a yawn as Alfred looks over, pausing for a moment to give Danny his full attention. “I don’t know how to cook or anything, but I can help with other things while you’re in here.”

“You do not need to worry about that right now, Danny. I plan on having you shadow me for a week and learn how to do many of my tasks. And I would always appreciate a hand in the kitchen; previous experience doesn’t matter at all when I can teach you everything you need to know.”

Job talk is out of the question then. Alfred’s just going to shut it all down until Danny’s more awake and capable of keeping focused. Totally fair, even if Danny wants to keep prodding to get all the details he can about this job. 

“Can you tell me more about everyone who lives here?” he asks, turning the conversation down a different path.

“I do believe you will learn more about them on your own,” Alfred says, popping the lid back onto the blender, “They will be eager to meet you, now that you’re here.”

“We will have a family dinner,” Cass says from behind him, just before the blender starts up and swallows up every other sound in the kitchen.

Danny flinches hard enough to bang his knees against the underside of the table. He’s wide awake now, adrenaline running through him, and he has to hold his breath in an attempt to stop from gasping or having his heart give out from shock.

“Cass,” he says, “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” she says, raising her voice to be heard. 

A moment later, the blender stops and Alfred starts pouring it into one of the tall cups. “Miss Cassandra,” he says, somehow knowing she’s there without turning around or hearing her, “Your smoothie is ready.”

She crosses the kitchen in silent steps and takes the offered cup with a smile. “Thanks,” she says, signing at the same time. “Family dinner tonight.”

“I see. Will Master Jason be returning as well?”

“I will get him,” she promises. There’s a glint in her eyes that speaks of nothing but trouble. Danny feels bad for this Jason person, but has no intention to help him. Cass is not someone he wants to go up against, no matter how friendly she acts.

She turns to Danny just before she leaves the kitchen and tells him, “Go sleep.” 

He can do nothing but nod, but it’s enough for her and she walks away without another word, sipping on her smoothie.

Alfred begins preparing another smoothie, and Danny considers asking who it’s for. If it’s for him, he’ll need to find a way to politely decline it on account of not being used to having a full stomach these days and starting to feel a little sick at the thought of more food. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t offer it to Danny once it’s made. Alfred just keeps the glass set aside on the counter and starts washing the dishes. 

He has to bite down an offer to help; Alfred has made it very clear that Danny isn’t doing anything at all today besides meeting the family and getting a look around the manor. It grates at him, having to sit and do nothing, but he doesn’t want to overstep his bounds and get kicked out before he can do anything. 

That would be a terrible start to his career. Whatever his career ends up being. 

Just as Alfred’s putting the last of the dishes onto the drying rack, Tim walks in and says, “Cass has a smoothie.” Then he spots the glass left on the counter, untouched, and goes, “Oh.”

Danny considers this more proof that Alfred has magic. It’s just a magic specific to predicting the people he considers under his care. 

“I thought you would want one as well,” Alfred says.

Tim nods and grabs the glass to take a sip. “Mhmm. You can’t expect me not to come running when you make smoothies. Could use a little spice, though.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s good! I swear! Sweet and spicy is a good combination.”

“I will not be putting spices in my smoothies, Master Tim. I do have some self-respect.”

Tim shrugs and stops arguing. “All right. Your kitchen, your rules. I’ll get my spicy smoothies elsewhere.” Then he turns to Danny, looks him over with a critical eye, and says, “You look tired. Do you wanna crash in one of the guest rooms for a nap?”

“I was just about to have Danny pick out his room,” Alfred says, “If you would follow me, Danny.”

He hurries to get up, hastily pushing the chair back in, and falls into step behind Alfred. Tim joins them, for reasons unknown to Danny, but his company has been nice during the few hours Danny’s been in the manor, so he doesn’t mind. 

They don’t go to the family wing. There’s apparently a servants’ wing, and though he isn’t a fan of the name, he’s glad to be put somewhere far away from the Wayne family. With them being the way they are, he wouldn’t be surprised if he woke up with them standing over him in the middle of the night if his room was in the same wing as theirs. Maybe not to hurt him, but just to watch him and make sure he’s alright. 

There’s nothing that says they would do that, but it’s the vibe he’s getting. Nice, a little prone to worry, and very much capable of going about the wrong way to make sure everything’s okay. 

Hell, they’re making him a new identity through definitely illegal means just because he can’t do anything without legally existing. 

He’s better off not thinking too hard about the Wayne family, honestly. At least, not until he can do some research on them once he can access the internet again. 

“Here are my private quarters,” Alfred says, nodding to a door. “I would like for you to choose a room in this hallway, so that I am nearby in case you need anything.”

There are only six other doors in the hallway, which means these are fairly big rooms. Danny looks over his options and goes for the door on the other side of the hallway, a door down from Alfred’s room. Close enough to hear Alfred if he needs help, close enough to call for help, but far enough that Danny doesn’t feel crowded. 

He opens it, hesitating slightly until Alfred nods at him to go in, then tries very hard not to gape too obviously.

Servants’ wing brought to mind an image of small, cramped rooms that held only the bare minimum. A bed, definitely, maybe a desk, possible a closet or wardrobe. The bathroom would be separate, maybe down the hall in its own room.

That is not what the room looks like. It’s big, larger than the living room and kitchen of his old house combined. There’s a couch and a low table in what must act as a lounging area, then a desk on the far wall just beneath a window, and a large bed in the back of the room. A door off to the side goes to the bathroom and another is open to show an empty closet. A drawer is set beside it, a ship in a bottle on top of it as the only decoration in the room.

“Oh wow,” he says, taking it all in. “Are you sure I can have this room? I can take something smaller.”

“No way. If you’re going to be working with us, the least we can do is give you a good room as thanks for all the things you’ll have to deal with from us.” Tim nudges his shoulder, a gentle, friendly little gesture that forces Danny deeper into the room. 

“You can redecorate it however you like,” Alfred says, “And we shall go shopping to get everything you need once you’ve settled in a little more.”

This is way too much.

Abruptly, Danny feels lightheaded. 

He hasn’t even done anything yet. And here’s Alfred, and by extension the Wayne family, offering up not just a job, but a home, a future, a place to belong. 

“Woah!” Tim grabs his arm suddenly and Danny slumps against him. The world feels a little more real now that he has someone keeping him from drifting away. He must have been swaying a bit because the room settles into stillness just as he realizes that the floor is tilting out from under him. “Let’s get you to the bed.”

Tim leads him across the room and Alfred follows, a hand against Danny’s back to hold him steady. 

“I suppose this was a little too much excitement,” Alfred says, “Get some rest, Danny. We can work everything out later.”

“No,” he mumbles, but can’t fight back as he’s gently maneuvered onto the bed. “I’m supposed to shadow you.”

“There is no rush.” The pillow is heavenly soft beneath his head. All the strength leaves his body and Danny realizes just how exhausted he’s been, running on fumes for the past month and not noticing because there was never time to notice. Now his body is making the executive choice to rest, uncaring of his concerns of sleeping in a strange new environment, of the responsibilities he needs to take on in order to survive in this dimension.

“I’ll let everyone know to leave you alone,” Tim says, voice lowered until it’s just louder than a whisper. Danny forces his eyes to cooperate and squints in Tim’s direction just to see him leave the room—Danny’s new room—and that’s all he sees before his eyes slide shut, unable to resist the siren call of sleep. 

It feels like he’s falling. Like he’s sinking, neck deep in quicksand with no way out. The world quickly fades away, and the last thing he hears is Alfred saying, “Sleep well, my boy. You are safe now.”

And, despite all his doubts, Danny believes him.

Danny must be dreaming. None of this feels real, certainly, but he’s not sure if that’s because of the twisting and confusing nature of dreams, or the absurd and unreasonable behavior of rich people. 

He sleeps.

.

.

.

He had (allegedly) woken up after six hours, just after Damian had returned from school. After he had felt a little more human and cognizant, he wandered the manor until he managed to make his way to the kitchen. When Alfred wasn’t there, he searched every room and hallway until Cass appeared behind him and pointed him towards the family den, where he was dusting. 

From then on, Danny stuck close to Alfred, following after him as he spoke about what he was doing, how he was doing it, and how often he does each task. It’s easy enough to understand, and Danny’s confident that he can pick it up quickly enough and help Alfred out by reducing his duties some. 

The idea of working for the Wayne family isn’t so alarming now that he knows what he’ll be doing. It’s all just cleaning and taking care of the manor. Alfred can handle tending to the actual family, and he can ask Danny for help on anything. 

This could actually work out well, which will be a first for Danny.

He thinks it’s all fine up until Cass meets him in the living room, takes hold of his arm, and grins at Alfred. “Got everyone,” she says, without offering any context, then drags him into the dining room.

Too many people are in there and they all stare at him. 

There are plates set on the table and almost everyone is seated. Cass direct him to a chair and Danny suddenly realizes that this is a family dinner and he’s expected to sit and eat with them.

He must be lucid dreaming. It must be a nightmare. But when he discretely pinches himself, he can feel the sting of pain clearly. 

“Sit,” Cass tells him, and he sits because he doesn’t want to know what will happen to him if he disobeys. Especially since it’s Cass, especially since Bruce is watching him. 

Distantly, he wonders if he can fake his death and run away to another city. Before he can go down that train of thought, Bruce clears his throat and gathers everyone’s attention. They all look to him, then glance back at Danny, trading knowing looks with each other.

“Everyone, I’m sure you’ve heard already, but this is Danny,” Bruce says, “He is not mine. He’s Alfred’s. Any comments can go to him this time instead of me.”

“Thank you, Master Bruce,” Alfred says with a polite bite in his voice. “Danny has graciously offered to help me in my duties of taking care of the manor. Do treat him well.”

Apparently, that’s all the introduction he gets. Everyone returns their attention to him, blatantly staring. Some look annoyed, others look excited. All of them have a hard light in their eyes, as if they can peel back every layer of him and find all his secrets just by looking.

It’s unnerving. 

Danny, hesitantly, waves to the room at large, then tucks his hands back under the table.

Across from him, a man with a bright grin and the bluest eyes Danny’s ever seen leans forward. “Hey! I’m Dick, Bruce’s oldest.”

He almost asks what he did to earn the name Dick before his common sense smacks him in the back of his head and stops him. “Hi,” he returns weakly. 

Taking their cue, the rest of the brood go around introducing themselves. Besides Dick is Damian who gives him a curt nod, then Cass who waves at him happily. There’s a blond girl who has a smile that screams trouble; she introduces herself as “Steph, not Stephanie unless you’re looking for a throw down”, then adds that she’s not Bruce’s kid, she just likes Alfred’s cooking, which is very valid.

On the Danny’s side of the table is Tim, who rolls his eyes at the man beside him, who has a streak of white hair above his forehead who gruffly introduces himself as Jason and says nothing more. On the other side of Danny is a a boy who looks to be the same age as him and so far has the calmest demeanor of everyone in the manor.

“I’m Duke,” he says, “I’m mentoring under Bruce right now, so I’ll be hanging out here often. Usually during mornings or evenings, so I probably won’t be in your way too much.”

“There are a few others,” Bruce says, as if this group isn’t enough, “Though they weren’t able to make it tonight. I’m sure they’ll come by to meet you soon enough.”

“Great,” Danny says, trying not to sound like he’s dying. He fails, and Steph’s muffled laughter makes heat rush to his face. Would it be too much to go intangible and just sink through the floor? Surely once dinner comes out they’ll be too busy eating to notice Danny melting from the sheer mortification of being so lame in front of the family he’s going to work for.

Luckily, Alfred comes to his rescue by announcing that he’ll bring dinner out now. Before Danny can offer to help, yet again, Jason roughly pushes himself away from the table and declares that he’ll help. He’s walking into the kitchen before anyone can respond and Alfred just shakes his head with a fond smile on his face.

Maybe that’s the way to do it. Say he’s going to help, then get to it before Alfred can do anything to stop him.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks. Danny startles, looking away from the door to the kitchen, waiting for Alfred and Jason to reemerge, and blinks at Bruce.

“Fine?”

“I was a little worried when I heard you had passed out.”

“I didn’t pass out,” Danny refutes immediately. “I was just tired. I’m a little nocturnal right now, but I’ll be back to normal soon enough.”

“It sounds like your sleep schedule is like a lot of ours,” Steph says.

Dick shoots a sharp look at Bruce as he says, “Sounds like you’ll fit right in.” Somehow, it sounds like a threat.

“I’ve got your paperwork figured out. We’ll just need to get your picture taken for your ID.” Bruce completely ignores Dick.

“I can do that,” Tim interjects, “We just need a good backdrop, something in a neutral color.”

“How about using one of the bedsheets?” Duke suggests.

“Yeah, that would work. Can you hold it up for me?”

“Sure, just let me know when you wanna do it. We’ll have to find a good one.”

“So!” Dick claps his hands together, “Tell us a bit about yourself, Danny.”

Danny freezes. These people definitely know something’s up with him. They helped create a new identity for him! They heard his conditions for staying! They know he’s not normal, but he doesn’t know what they might be thinking about him. What’s something mundane he can share that doesn’t have anything to do with death or ghosts or experiments?

“What do you want to know?” he asks slowly, wondering if he’s just offered himself up for the slaughter.

“Who’s your favorite hero?”

…What. What?

Danny casts his mind around for an answer. He hasn’t really kept up with comics back home, too busy with ghosts and school to do much of anything else. The video games he usually plays don’t have superheroes, and there haven’t been any good superhero movies to come out, so he hasn’t watched any in years.

Even then, none of the superhero characters in his dimension were particularly interesting to him.

“I don’t really have one.”

“Come on, I’m sure you do! There’s so many options, you have to like at least one!” Steph insists, looking overly invested in his answer.

“Um.”

Once again, Alfred saves him by entering the dining room again, pushing a cart full of plates. Jason follows after him with a cart holding empty glasses and two pitchers of water. All conversation comes to a stop as they eagerly wait to receive their plate, each member of the Wayne family thanking Alfred.

Bruce is the only one to thank Jason, who just huffs and quickly moves away from him. 

Danny quietly says his thanks when he gets his plate and tries not to feel too touched when he sees that his portion is visibly smaller than anyone else’s. He hadn’t even asked, but Alfred noticed and adjusted accordingly, plating only what Danny would be able to eat without getting sick.

Yeah, Danny can ignore any suspicious mob activities so long as he can stay with Alfred. The man deserves the world for all his kindness, but the best Danny can do is give him a little help.

He thinks he’s managed to dodge the question, now that everyone is digging into dinner, but Steph is nothing but relentless. Mouth full, she says, “Come on, Danny, you haven’t answered yet!”

“Miss Stephanie, please do not speak with your mouth full,” Alfred scolds.

“What question?” Jason asks, glancing towards Danny for a split second before quickly turning away.

“Favorite superhero,” Tim answers. 

“So?” Steph prompts, looking at him expectantly.

Why is this such a big deal? Danny tries to think of an answer, but nothing comes to mind. Maybe they’ll accept someone he looks up to as an answer? And there’s someone who pops into his mind immediately.

“My big sister,” he says, “She’s my hero.”

“Aww!” Dick coos at his answer, looking touched. “That’s so sweet!”

“Yeah.” Danny smiles, relaxing a bit now that he can speak about something that’s actually happy for once. “She’s great. She’s taken care of me for a long time, and even though she can be annoying, especially with her bad habit of psychoanalyzing everyone around her, I could always trust her to have my back no matter what.”

Cass taps on the table to get his attention. “Where is she? Safe?”

“I… I hope so. She’ll be safer now that I’m not around her, in any case.”

“If you are in any danger,” Bruce begins, then Danny catches the sound of multiple people kicking at him from under the table. “We can discuss this later,” he amends.

Okay. No longer a happy topic! He’ll remember that for any future discussions. 

“As sweet as that is,” Steph interrupts, “I was looking for an answer about an actual hero. Like, someone from the Justice League maybe.”

The what now?

“Wonder Woman is obviously the only correct answer,” Jason says.

“Batman and Robin are far superior. They can keep up with all the others without any powers,” Damian argues.

“But they’re not Wonder Woman,” Jason says, as if that’s all the argument he needs. “Besides, Batman is a loser who can barely keep Gotham safe.”

“Black Bat is better than all of them,” Tim says, throwing in his two cents. 

Cass smiles at him and says, “Red Robin. He is kind and smart.”

“I think anyone from the Titans is a good choice,” Dick says, “They’re all skilled and have saved countless lives.”

“I guess Nightwing’s pretty cool, but the Signal is better,” Duke adds.

“So?” Steph says, leaning onto the table in an attempt to bridge the distance between them. “C’mon, pick anyone.”

Danny blinks, then slowly looks at each person around the table. In his mind, superheroes are fictional. Just a fun genre to play in, a poplar media that nerds gravitate towards. Technically, Phantom counts as a hero, but he’s also a non-sentient entity according to the government and only operates in Amity, rather than across the Earth.

The way everyone at the dinner table is talking about superheroes as if they’re real has him concerned. On one hand, they could just be a family of nerds who love their comic books. On the other hand, this is an entirely new dimension where superheroes could exist and Danny didn’t notice because he hasn’t looked into the happenings of this world yet.

This is clearly going to out him as Not From Here, but he needs to know, so Danny slowly asks, “Are you… saying that superheroes are real?”

The entire room freezes. Half the table looks at him incredulously while the other half look deep in thought, as if they’re realizing something unfortunate.

“Heroes are real,” Bruce answers. His voice is calm, neutral, but his eyes are stormy. “Some work with governments. Others operate outside the law in order to protect people. But there are many, all over the world, and some join forces to create teams that deal with certain threats or cover specific locations.”

Heroes are real.

Heroes are real.

“Are you fucking with me,” Danny says without thinking.

“Though I am sure this is a surprise to you Danny,” Alfred says from the end of the table where he’s refilling Duke’s glass, “Do remember to eat.”

Moving on autopilot, Danny stabs his fork down and shoves a stalk of grilled asparagus into his mouth. 

“No?” Dick answers, looking hesitant for the first time that evening. “They’re real. We have a group of heroes in Gotham: Batman and his birds. Also Oracle and sometimes her Birds of Prey.”

“So you just have people who become heroes and fight crime? Regular people?”

“Some have powers due to the metagene. Others have powers from… other means that are not well understood. And some heroes have powers because they’re aliens.”

“Y’all got actual aliens?!” Danny shouts. He realizes belatedly that he’s jumped out of his seat to stand, hands on the table and leaning forward towards Dick, eagerly awaiting his answer.

“Superman and Martian Manhunter,” Tim helpfully supplies.

“Is Martian Manhunter an actual Martian? From Mars?”

“Sure is.”

“He’s my new favorite,” Danny declares.

Almost immediately, everyone at the table, sans Bruce and Alfred, start throwing out their objections, insisting that other heroes are better and demanding to know where his Gotham Pride is at, nevermind the fact that he’s not even a citizen of Gotham.

“I don’t care,” Danny says, “He’s from Mars. That automatically makes him cooler than anyone else. I am not taking criticism at this time.”

The rest of dinner is spent arguing over who’s the better hero, during which Danny stubbornly refuses to change his stance. Despite the raised voices and the dramatic threats, everyone is smiling, having fun as they shout at each other.

The Waynes may be a mob family, but they’re also nerds and, even better, fans. It’s so fun that Danny doesn’t even realize that he’s managed to clean off his plate now that stress isn’t making his stomach twist itself into knots. In fact, he’s managed to forget that he’s eating dinner with a rich family in their giant manor because the atmosphere reminds him of a group of friends hanging out at Nasty Burger, all laughter and good vibes.

It lifts his mood and makes him more comfortable walking through the halls, listening to everyone chatter about various topics. They split up near the family den; Dick, Damian, and Steph go in to watch movies while Tim grabs Jason and mentions getting some more work done on a project they’re working on together, while Duke leaves to do homework in the library. 

Bruce has vanished along with Cass and Alfred had insisted that Danny get some more rest while he washes all the dishes. 

Despite his earlier sleep, exhaustion still hangs heavy in his limbs. Having a full stomach only makes it more obvious just how much rest he needs still. Every part of him wants to curl up under a blanket and forget about the world outside, but he can’t.

He still needs to be vigilant. The Waynes may be fun, but he still can’t trust them not to suddenly stab him in the back if they discover his halfa status. 

And Alfred will need his help. He needs to stay up just in case Alfred needs something. 

Danny, unsurprisingly, falls asleep within ten minutes of sitting down on the couch in his room. He intended to wait for Alfred to show up or for someone else to ask for his help, but the room was quiet, far away from everyone else, and he was so comfortable that he just… dozed off.

He stirs just slightly when he feels someone pick him up; whoever it is has large arms. Like his dad. Jack Fenton hadn’t picked up Danny to tuck him in for years, but only because Danny got used to staying up absurdly late on account of fighting ghosts and homework. It’s the safest he’s felt in months, cradled by those arms that gently set him onto the bed and tuck him in. 

It takes no effort at all to sink back into sleep, dreaming of nothing but the peaceful quiet of the stars.

The second time he wakes up, some of the heaviness in his limbs has eased, but it’s still there. How much sleep could he possibly need as a half-dead boy? More apparently. His body is making its demands very clear.

Still, Danny forces himself up. If he’s going to work with Alfred, he needs to cut off his bad habit of staying in bed when he wakes up in the morning. He needs to be better. He needs to prove that he can earn his place here and make something worthwhile of himself.

That he’s even been given the chance to do this is nothing short of a miracle.

A quick look at the clock tells him that it’s barely six in the morning; this is usually around the time he starts looking for somewhere to settle down for the day. Now it doesn’t mark the end of his day, but the beginning.

Danny moves to get up and head to the bathroom, wash his face to look a little more put together, when he catches sight of something on the bed that wasn’t there yesterday.

Folded clothes. And the note on top reads: We will buy you new clothes soon. For now, Tim has extras that he will give to you. -B

Bruce Wayne, resident rich man and future boss, delivered Tim’s clothes to Danny. Everything about that sentence is absurd, but it’s apparently what happened.

He’ll… worry about all that later. He can only focus on so many things at once.

He needs to get it together. Make a plan. Some kind of to-do list. Something like:

Wash your face to look less like a very sad racoon.

Wear new clothes that haven’t been stuck on your body for weeks.

Breakfast?

Do stuff????

Job accomplished.

It needs some work, but it’s a good starting point. He’ll figure out the rest as he goes. Step one is easy enough to accomplish, as is step two. Wearing something clean has never felt so good and Danny has a new appreciation for the wonders of laundry. It helps that Tim has good taste in clothes; everything he’s given to Danny is soft and slightly oversized, just the way he likes it.

Breakfast is a little harder, as Danny wanders through the halls in search of the kitchen. He must have taken a wrong turn somewhere because he ends up at an indoor pool?

No one’s around. 

It’s as good a time as any to go invisible and start walking through walls until he finds some familiar rooms. 

Or familiar faces, he thinks, as he stumbles upon Cass hanging upside down from a light fixture. He stares at her, a little worried but mostly bemused, as she scrolls on her phone as if this is completely normal. And maybe it is for her, who is he to say?

Just as he wonders if he can go down the hall and walk back, visible and completely human, to ask her for directions, Cass tilts her head and looks at him.

Or rather, in his general direction, dark eyes scanning across the hallway before settling almost directly on him despite his invisibility. 

“Who?” she calls out, searching the area. 

There’s no possible way she could have known. But somehow she does. Cass knows he’s here and that’s really not great. How is he supposed to hide if things go wrong? She’ll just hunt him down through instinct alone and that’s more terrifying than any GIW agent or his parents.

Danny all but hurls himself through the wall and hurries away, looking over his shoulder as he recklessly goes through the manor.

It’s almost an accident when he phases through the wall into the dining room; seeing that long table, the chandeliers, the stillness of the room is an honest relief. Here’s somewhere he’s more familiar with.

And through the door is the kitchen where Alfred is already getting started on his work for the day.

Danny drops his invisibility at the doorway, stepping into the kitchen with a quiet, “Morning, Alfred.”

Alfred doesn’t startle. He just looks over with a small smile and asks, “Danny. How did you sleep?”

“Fine. Slept longer than I’m used to.”

“Do take a seat and I’ll have breakfast ready for you shortly.”

Danny steps up to the counter, hovering beside Alfred, calling upon his ingrained stubbornness to ignore Alfred’s not-orders. 

“I can make my breakfast,” he says, “Or, like, you could teach me how to make breakfast.”

Alfred doesn’t respond for a long moment, looking only at the eggs sizzling away in the frying pan, then sighs. “Very well. Though you do not need to start your workday before eight in the morning.”

“I want to learn,” Danny insists.

“So you shall, Danny. Let’s begin with making some French toast.”

From then, Alfred shifts seamlessly into teaching mode, showing him where everything in the kitchen is and watching over Danny carefully as he cracks an egg and adds milk and vanilla extract. He moves to the side to give Danny space at the oven, taking over the front-left section with his own frying pan. 

He’s nervous about burning it, but Alfred is keeping track of both their cooking, instructing Danny when to turn down the heat and flip over the bread. 

It gets easier the more he makes them, going through nearly an entire loaf of bread, each slice of French toast better than the last. Danny plates them carefully, trying not to tip over the stack as he sets them in each family member’s plates. Five plates is a lot, but knowing how many more people are in this family make Danny all the more glad that he’s here to help Alfred.

This is a lot of work for one person. Alfred is definitely magic. There’s no other explanation as to how he’s managed all this time.

Danny gets to work in peace with Alfred for just over an hour before the residents of the manor begin to trickle in. He’s working on carefully cutting strawberries to go with the French toast, keeping his fingers curled just as Alfred instructed so he doesn’t accidentally cut them off.

It’s strange being the only thing in the kitchen that can hurt himself. None of the food comes to alive and tries to attack him, nor are there stray experimental weapons lying around ready to be set off as soon as he gets close. 

Tim enters the kitchen silently with Cass by his side. Somehow, Tim already has a cup of coffee in hand. They both greet Alfred, then Danny, and Danny does his very best not to look too nervous in front of Cass.

Dick cartwheels into the kitchen two minutes after them, and Danny applauds him when he gives an exaggerated bow. 

Damian follows, a cat trailing after him, and Bruce is the last to arrive.

They all settle at the table, quietly talking or trying to get a little more rest as they sit with their eyes closed. He feels awkward trying to navigate around this commonplace family moment, an outsider who suddenly forced his way in. 

Each person he sets a plate in front of thanks him quietly, though Damian does so with some hesitancy and clear distrust. Alfred follows with cups of water or juice, then sets out syrup with a warning “not to cause another Incident.”

“You will get used to this in no time,” Alfred reassures him as they walk away from the table to get started on washing dishes. “There’s no rush.”

“If you say so,” Danny replies, twisting his hands in an attempt to get rid of some of his restlessness.

“Now, what do you feel like eating?”

He honestly doesn’t feel hungry at all. Not with how much he ate yesterday. “Nothing. I can wait until lunch.”

“That won’t do at all.”

“I really don’t think I can eat anything right now,” Danny says, “But I’ll probably have a bit of an appetite in the afternoon.”

“At least have some tea,” Alfred insists, and it sounds like a good idea, so Danny agrees and listens to Alfred talk about the different temperatures needed to brew different teas, as well as what can be added to certain types of tea but not others. Most of it goes in one ear and out the other, but Danny’s sure he’ll appreciate all this knowledge later once he’s expected to make tea alongside his other butler duties.

The first task that he’s given, without having to ask for it, is to fetch a mug, a teapot, and a tin of tea leaves. It takes some searching through the drawers and cupboards to find everything, but Danny manages to gather everything just as Alfred finishes washing the dishes. 

With nothing else to do but watch as Alfred prepares tea, Danny sits on one of the bar stools, trying not to fidget too much as he listens to the Wayne family move at the table. 

They’re all so quiet. No one speaks as they eat and it’s almost like they’re not there.

It’s so quiet, in fact, that when Tim pushes himself up from his chair, making it skid back across the floor loudly, Danny flinches. 

He’s tired of being so jumpy and on edge all the time. The sudden surge of adrenaline that hit him leaves his heart stuck in his throat and his lungs stuttering around every breath. He’s better than this, he knows he is, but after all he’s gone through over the past few months, Danny can’t help it.

“Hey,” Tim says as he passes by, setting his empty coffee mug into the sink after rinsing it out. 

Behind him, Danny can hear the rest of the Wayne family finish up their breakfast, standing and gathering empty plates. He manages to keep perfectly still this time, acting normal as they pass by and leave to get ready for their day. 

Tim doesn’t leave. He hops up onto the bar stool beside Danny and rests his elbows on the counter with his arms folded, hands dangling above his lap. “Sleep well?” he asks, voice still rough with sleep. 

“Yeah,” Danny says, “You?” Tim looks worse than yesterday, somehow. The bags under his eyes are dark enough to look like bruises and his eyes are slightly glazed over from exhaustion. 

He shrugs. “Some. Only a few hours. Managed to fall asleep around… three in the morning?”

“How are you awake right now?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Tim says, “Comes with insomnia, I guess. Hard to fall asleep and harder to stay asleep.”

“If you say so,” Danny replies, feeling his concern for Tim rise with every word he says. Danny never got this bad, even during the worst of the ghost attacks that left him flying around Amity Park late at night with unfinished homework waiting for him in his room. 

Alfred sets a cup of lightly steaming tea in front of Danny, but his eyes are fixed on Tim. “Master Timothy,” he says, disapprovingly, and Danny knows it’s bad since that’s the first time he’s heard Alfred full name Tim..

Tim wilts where he sits. “I know, Alfred. I’ll get more sleep on the weekend, promise.”

Bruce clears his throat, cutting off the conversation about Tim’s unhealthy sleep habits. Danny flinches again, his tea spilling over the side of the cup just slightly. 

When did Bruce appear behind him? Danny didn’t hear him at all, had no idea he was there until he let his presence be known. 

The last time someone snuck up on him like that—

Well, it’s best not to think about his parents. Nothing good will come of it.

“Danny,” he says, moving around to be in Danny’s line of sight instead of standing behind him. “We’ve gotten your paperwork sorted out. Would you like to check over them in my study or here?”

“Here,” Danny answers immediately. Bruce’s study felt too… formal. There’s too much pressure put on him in there and he feels more out of place there than anywhere else in the manor. The kitchen, in comparison, is safer. Warmer. More casual and familiar.

“Alright. Tim, would you mind running up to grab everything?”

Tim gives Bruce a lazy salute, hopping off the bar stool and leaving the kitchen without another word. Bruce sits beside Danny in the newly unoccupied stool, moving carefully so he never gets into Danny’s space.

He’s very considerate and far too observant. With how quiet and sneaky the entire family is, Danny isn’t sure if it’s a good sign or proof of something that will hurt him later on. 

He sips on his tea to avoid looking at or talking to Bruce. Alfred returns to washing the rest of the dishes and Danny focuses on that, listening to the running water and the sound of dishes clinking against each other.

It feels like barely a few minutes before Tim returns, somehow crossing the distance between the kitchen and Bruce’s study on the second floor quickly without being out of breath. In his hands is a black folder, which apparently holds Danny’s new life.

“You stole my seat,” he says as he drops the folder onto the counter.

“It was open.”

“I was sitting there.”

Bruce shrugs, the small quirk of his lips the only thing revealing his amusement. “Not anymore.”

Tim glares at him, then leans against the counter, sprawling into Bruce’s space. He’s practically lying on top of the counter, shoving Bruce’s arms out of the way to make himself comfortable. “Look those over,” Tim says, tapping the folder.

“We’ll fix anything you want changed,” Bruce adds when Danny makes no move to grab it. He even helpfully moves it closer to Danny.

Slowly, Danny opens it. Papers fill both sides and he can see some square lumps hidden in the pockets. He carefully pulls those out first, finding a credit card and a debit card, which. Holy shit. He’s going to freak out about that later; there’s still an entire folder left to shock him.

The first few papers are simple. Information about his new identity, under the name of Danny Jameson. Yes, it is his first name and a modified version of his middle name. No, it’s not a very good fake name but Danny was stressed and tired and didn’t want to think about it for too long. Now it’s his name and he’ll have to live with it, so it’s a good thing he’s already familiar with it.

The next few papers hold his social security information, health insurance, the works. All of it means nothing to him, but he appreciates the effort they put into this!

He’s a little concerned about how quickly they got so much done, but he appreciates it!

The words blur together as he flips through the pages. The only thing that he needs left is an ID and Tim wants to be the one taking his picture, so he’ll just wait until Tim brings it up. 

“It all looks good,” Danny says, trying to hide as much of his confusion as possible.”

“We can always change it later,” Bruce reassures. “Now, why don’t you take a look at that last document, stating you job position and salary?”

He helpfully pulls it out of the folder where it had been stuck to the back of another paper, making Danny miss it completely. 

It doesn’t have as much written on it as the other documents. Words only fill half the paper and everything is in short phrases or bullet points, contained in little boxes to make finding information easier. 

His official title is Apprentice (Butler). There are no formal work hours as he’s on call and the small description of his duties reads: Attend to the manor and its inhabitants while learning the ways of a butler. Apparently, he has unlimited sick leave and vacation is negotiated with a month guaranteed.

All this sounds pretty good up until he sees what his salary is. The fact that he would be getting that much monthly…

“Mr. Wayne,” Danny says, very calmly.

“Please, just call me Bruce!” he says with a grin.

“Mr. Wayne,” Danny stresses, “Remove some of these zeroes or I am leaving Gotham to find work somewhere else.”

Tim leans over to get a look, then turns to Bruce with a raised eyebrow. 

Bruce is unrepentant. “I will remove one zero but I will move your planned pay raise forward by half a year. And I’ve already put one month’s pay into your bank account so you can buy what you need when Dick takes you shopping later.”

“A pay raise?! Actually, hold on, since when am I going shopping?”

“Since… now? You need clothes. And whatever else you want to buy. It’s your money now.”

Danny turns to Tim. “Help.”

“This is actually the best you’ll get,” Tim says unhelpfully, “The fact that he actually agreed to take off a zero means he really doesn’t want to scare you away.”

“I would be quite cross if he did,” Alfred interjects. “Do drink your tea, Danny.”

Danny knocks back the rest of his tea and says, “I understand you are slightly out of touch with reality as all rich people are, but this is ridiculous. I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“You saved Alfred.” All of a sudden, Bruce’s voice is serious. There’s an intensity about him that was hidden before, something that screams both danger and protection. Something almost more than human. “You saved Alfred. You don’t need to do a single thing here and I would still give all this to you.”

“But…” Danny trails off, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. “I just wanted to help.”

“So allow us to help you, now, Danny.” Alfred takes his cup out of his hands and sets it on the counter. He places his hands on Danny’s shoulders, holding him steady, and says, “We know you are in a difficult situation and have no one else to turn to. We know you are a good person who deserves to be safe and happy. Allow us to help you as much as we can.”

And what can he say to that?

Nothing, apparently, because he’s two seconds away from crying. He leans into Alfred’s hold and nods, just slightly, and tries to blink back his tears.

“Very good,” Alfred smiles. “I do think it’s time for you to go shopping. Take today to gather everything you need. I can begin teaching you what to do tomorrow.”

“Okay. And… thanks.” He can’t quite make eye contact with anyone, but Alfred pats his shoulder before moving away and Bruce ruffle his hair. 

Tim straightens up, pushing himself off the counter, and rounds it to be by Danny’s side. “Let’s go bother Dick into getting ready to take you shopping.”

Danny stands, clumsily shuffling the papers into order and shoving them back into the folder. Bruce takes it before he can worry about what to do with it, and sends him off with Tim. 

“Are you coming with us?” he asks as he’s lead up the staircase and down the hallways to the family wing.

“Huh?”

“Are you coming with us? When we go shopping?”

“Oh, no. I need to do some work today. Mostly just meetings, but I can’t skip out or Tam might actually kill me.”

“Tam?”

“My personal assistant,” Tim answers, like this is normal.

Danny starts to wonder if Tim really is close to him in age. It seems like it, but it also sounds like he has a legit job (with a personal assistant!) and is not in school. Did he already graduate college? Is he actually 30 years old and stuck with an insane babyface?

It feels rude to ask, so he doesn’t, but he can’t help but wonder.

“Okay,” he says. There’s really nothing else he can say.

“Don’t worry, though. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Dick is great! He’ll keep you safe.”

Safe from what, Tim doesn’t say, and Danny decides to just not question anything else during the day. It’s happening whether he understands it or not, so better to not worry about it. The key to being stress free is to not care and vibe. He can totally keep his cool. Not a problem at all.

How bad can one shopping trip be?

(“Are you planning on enrolling him in school, Master Bruce?”

Bruce sighs, running a hand through his hair. “If he agrees to it. I can’t ask anything yet, not until I find out more about where he was and who had him. I don’t want him out there on his own when someone could be looking for him.”

“He must have been held captive for quite a long time to be so unfamiliar with the world.”

“I’ve only seen this sort of thing with labs and cults. I’m not sure yet which one he came from, but neither are good.”

“Once you do find them,” Alfred says, rather calmly, though the steel in his eyes tells another story, “Do give them hell. If you do not, I shall.”

“I’m half tempted to set you loose on them,” Bruce jokes tiredly.

“I’ll keep my shotgun ready. Just say the word, Master Bruce. I will ensure no one touches another hair on Danny’s head.”

“We’ll all keep him safe, Alfred. And he’ll be here with us from now on, anyways.”

“So long as he doesn’t run off into the night to be a vigilante,” Alfred says, “Lord knows we’ve seen that happen too often.”

Bruce sighs. “Well. There’s hope for him yet. Who knows? Maybe he’ll be the normal one in the family.”

“I would certainly like that more than sending another child into danger,” Alfred agrees. He has never been able to stop this family before, but perhaps he will be able to save Danny from the dangers of their nightlife. Danny may be the only one he saves, in fact, but Alfred still has that chance.

He intends to make the most of it.)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #alfred's apprentice au #butler danny au #my writing #fic #i PROMISE next chapter will have actual butler danny. im fr done w set up now. except the shopping trip #its fine i'll figure it out i'll add anothr chapter #dont worry abt it i know what im doing

[kay-valencourt]

fnaf au hehe

I'm still working out the story and the designs but here's some concepts :)) more info below

It takes place like ~87ish, CC (evan) never died cause of the bite but he got close!! Nyway yeah things are still fucked up but at least Evan's alive :D!!!!

#idk what else to add :/ #nyway if people wanna see more lmk cause I can definitely make more #i might write a fic if i figure out the plot #fnaf #afton family #cc fnaf #michael afton #elizabeth afton #william afton #fnaf au #kay draws

[theelvishscribbler]

ack my greatest weakness! not having the exact info on the correct etiquette or process required for a specific small interaction that I don't have enough experience with!

#followed by getting stuck mentally buffering for a silly amount of time while trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do #a constant struggle but uh.... #what is the best way to send fanart to someone on tumblr... #do i post and tag em #or send them in askbox #or send in dms #or reblog the fic post that inspired and add art in rebog? #is it rude to do it a specific way? #i am overthinking this... #i am going to sleep and hopefully the answer will appear to me in a drea #m #text #does this post even make sense? ough

[cerealmonster15]

rereading my fics is like a constant cycle of being like "teehee that was funny. oh god that line was cringe. hehe that was funny. wait why did i say that 😑. hehe. wait i forgot about that part. hang on didnt i plan to write xyz into this why did i never get to that. teehee that was funny-"

#anyway im rereading the latest chapter i had for the kalim thing to refresh my mind kfsdjfklsd i gotta revisit my notes #which are. within this sketchbook sojfdlksjf idk why i wrote them in there instead of just in a doc lololol #but god yea i forgot a lot already that happened in the latest chapter bc theres was some stuff i think i hd to add/figure out #as i was writing it outside of the chapter planning lolol #not a lot but enough that i was like HMM. fjdsklfjdskl good thing it is right here for my own. memory. #there are alos a lot of spacing errors and a typo so im editing them rn =_= #ive had a general outline for how the whole thing would go / roughly a few things i might want for the last few chapters #but ough i really am in the no man's land rn this latter part is less planned than the first part LOL #so uh. we'll see how it goes. but it's ok if it sucks it's my first multi chapter fic im not counting on perfection!!! #either way i will do my best. to make it enjoyable i hope sdlkjfklsdjf #ppl in the comments: wow im interested to see how this turns out #me shaking kalim by the shoulders: me too. whats going on. sdjklfjsdkfljsklfjsdkl

[meownotgood]

DRAFT FOR THE FIRST CHAPTER IS DONE!!!!!! WHHEEWW '!!!!!

#THIS IS THE TOTAL WORD COUNT BUT #THE FIRST CHAPTER ALONE IS SITTING AT ABOUT 28K WORDS RIGHT NOW #jesus what have I gotten myself into #this fic will definitely go over 40k words #maybe even 50k depending on how much I add to the inapropro and the ending #god 28k words in and all they've done is smooch and grind a little #I think I may end up splitting this into three chapters rather than two? #I'm not sure how I want to do it yet though #I'll figure it out.... #either way I won't post anything until the whole fic is mostly done #so I'm sorry..... you'll have to keep waiting #but I'll continue to work when I can! very proud of myself today!!!! #why is this fic so long it's so niche nobody will care WHAT HAVE I DONE. #don't know anymore.

[elisedonut]

sudden itch to write a rare pair fic thats not Percy related

but like

the last time I did that it ended up becoming my top fic and lead to me deciding that you know... actually I hate that ship just out of spite so i'm not sure how good of an idea it is

maybe if i try like femslash or something super super rare with side characters or something

#using tumblr as a diary again #like is it healthy to feel that way? #no it's probably not but knowing that hasn't made the feeling go away in the months sense i posted it lol #like multiple people have asked for more for it but I'm ngl I'm likely never touching that ship again much less the fic itself #like if i even did decide to it would probably just be Percy and Viktor meeting #the whole reason it even became the ship it did was because I couldn't figure out how to write Viktor #But i don't think that's what people mean when they say they want more of it but maybe id be less annoyed if I did add a Percy/Viktor chapt #I feel like this is what those people mean when they talk about posting art you put your all into vs a doodle #because while i spent a hell of a long time procrastinating writing it i was never like actually happy with it #I just kinda wrote and posted it because I was running out of time and wanted to be done with it #which I think is part of why I find it annoying that it has like double the kudo's of everything else but it makes sense that it does #like it's a garbage fic yeah but its the main character and a fan favorite so ofc its going to get more attention #especially in comparison to the niche nonsense I make that I like more #will I ever delete it No I'm fire believer in not deleting things I've made because ive learned in my life i always regret it so #I just have to get better at writing so I can knock it off its horse >:) #or just keep adding extra chapters to Raspberry Muffin until it surpasses it lol #they only have a difference of 64 at the moment so its not impossible #I know im going to see this again in a few years and be so confused on why it bothered me so much i just know it lol