Every Night I Think About DCs Untapped Sitcom Potential That Is Conner Luthor-Kent

Quarantine art~ lil tulip on a spice jar

hi i’m ur new biggest fan. i need to devour your art neeoooowww. - @dialrchives

be careful with your expressions, mate. (love u sm)

Sleepless night

(he’s thinking about beating Odalia’s ass)

Many hours of gluing later….

Yes yes, more quarantine art. A decorated ciel bottle.

gary “roach” sanderson

What if?..

Day 7

SIMON APPRECIATION WEEK

@simonappreciation

For the director's commentary thing: I would love a director's commentary for Icarus on what went on in Red Bull HQ after Daniel came back, specifically when he went on the sim for the first time and it all went so horribly wrong- what happened that we didn't see in the story afterwards, how did Simon and the rest of the team cope? And how did Max react when he came back, did Daniel or Christian tell him what had happened?

Hahaha this is asking more for a Director's outtake rather than commentary, but I don't mind.

For the unaware, Icarus is a platonic maxiel wingfic where Daniel is pressured into trimming his wings for speed in McLaren, and has a long, slow fall before anyone notices. Much Maxiel angst and hurt/comfort and fluff.

Have an outtake from Max's POV that would have slotted directly after chapter 28 of Icarus:

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It's late when Max reaches Christian's country estate at last. He guns his engine and takes the imposing driveway up to the mansion at twice the proper speed limit, manicured trees blurring past on either side.

He's probably ruining the cobblestones. He doesn't give a fuck.

He should've insisted they delay Daniel's sim session until his flight landed. He should've-

Max steps back from the door, his hand smarting. He hadn't planned on banging at the door like that. He'd planned on ringing the doorbell. But every fibre of him is screaming for his flock; his wings feel like they are on fire.

One of the house staff opens the door. "Mr Verstappen-"

Max shoulders his way past. He's probably being rude but he doesn't care.

A moment, where he stands in the cavernous, marbled entryway, with sweep of the grand staircase up to the second floor and heavy oak doors leading in every direction.

Daniel. Where's-

"Max," a voice calls softly. "You're here."

Geri. Max snaps towards her. "Where's-"

"They're in the garden," Geri says, tilting her head towards the back of the house. "I think Daniel's alseep." She doesn't seem to mind the dirt Max is tracking into her house. But maybe she has people for that.

Max moves through the house like a dream. Entryway, living area, kitchen; through a set of french glass doors and into the back garden. The garden itself is dim, but there is a bonfire in the fire pit casting the grass in ruddy reds and yellows. Silhouetted in the flickering light are two winged figures - one with golden eagle wings crouching to tend to the fire, the other bundled in a blanket on a lawn chair, bandaged macaw wings painted sanguine by the light of the fire.

Daniel.

Christian stands as Max rapidly approaches. "Shh," he says quietly, holding a finger to his lips. "He's sleeping."

Max's ignores him. He drops to his knees next to Daniel's lawn chair, reaches out with a shaking hand to brush Daniel's curls out of his face.

Daniel looks paler than when Max saw him last a week ago. The firelight makes the shadows under Daniel's eyes look bruised.

Daniel shifts in his sleep, leans into Max's touch. Even in sleep there is pain on his face.

Max twists to look over his shoulder at Christian.

"Explain," he says accusingly. He needs to understand.

Christian had promised he wouldn't force Daniel's healing wings into the sim before they were ready. Christian had promised that the team would treat Daniel with the care and respect he deserved after what that other team had done to him. After he'd almost lost his wings.

"He reopened his wounds in a couple of places," Christian says. His eyes are fixed on Daniel's bandaged wings. "But the hospital said he'd be okay. They've stitched him up."

"What the fuck does that mean," Max hisses. "How did it even happen?"

Christian puts up his hands. "Simon tells me he pushed himself," he says. "Went through the break without stopping, and he wanted to get back in the sim so we could perfect the setup for Brazil-"

"Fuck off," Max hisses. "Don't - don't fucking tell me he was bleeding into the sim and nobody noticed."

Christian looks at him. There is grief and guilt in Christian's eyes, but over it all, bitter, seething fury.

"Max," he says. "None of us noticed for a whole fucking year."

All the air is punched out of Max's chest.

It's true. Max hadn't noticed his own flock slowly fading to nothing as Daniel hid his trimmed wings from the world. Max hadn't noticed Daniel entering a wing crisis that fateful week before Monza, either.

Daniel shivers under Max's palm. His breath comes short against Max's knuckles.

Max takes a slow, shuddering breath, takes up Daniel's hands in his own to warm them. They feel like ice in the cold night air, so Max sets a hip on edge of the lawn chair and pulls Daniel into his arms. He wraps his trimmed wing as far as he can around Daniel's shoulders and drops his chin into Daniel's hair.

Daniel relaxes. His breath evens out.

Max inhales, breathes in the warm woodsmoke of Daniel's hair. "I'm taking him home."

Christian frowns. "Don't be ridiculous," he says, and he is Max's boss again, sharp-tongued, effortlessly efficient. "It's late. Geri and I'll put you up."

Max gathers Daniel closer. "I'm taking him home," he says. "Back to my apartment in Milton Keynes. We'll fly back to Monaco in the morning."

Max's apartment in Milton Keynes; the spare room that has slowly morphed into Daniel's, with Enchante merch in the closets and preening brushes in the living room, a place that smells of flock.

Christian rolls his eyes. "Max, don't be-"

"Daniel," Max whispers, pressing his forehead to Daniel's temple. "Daniel, it's time to wake up."

Daniel stirs. He blinks up at Max, brown eyes turned muddy with painkillers.

"Oh," Daniel slurs. He scrabbles at the sleeve of Max's jacket. "Maxy."

"Yeah," Max says. His heart is expanding and shattering at the same time. "It's me. I'm taking you back to my place."

Daniel blinks rapidly as his bandaged wings shift behind him. His face blanches with memory and shame. "I'm sor-"

"No," Max says. "You can apologise later. Let's get out of here."

Christian stares between them. "You're fucking serious," he says disbelievingly. "Both of you."

Max doesn't bother looking at Christian. He pulls Daniel's arm over his shoulders and gets to his feet, dragging Daniel up with him. They make their slow, swaying way back through the house, Daniel's head lolling on Max's shoulder and his breath gusting over Max's chin.

Christian is talking rapidly with Geri now, but Max doesn't care. He brushes aside Geri's well-meaning hands and hoists Daniel down the front steps and into the passenger seat of his car.

"You know what? Fine," Christian is saying from the front door. "I can't stop you two being idiots. Fucking goodnight, then."

"Christian!" Geri admonishes. "Goodnight, Daniel, Max."

Daniel acquiesces for Geri to pat his cheek, and Max shuts the door as soon as Geri steps back. He moves past Christian as he circles the car to get to the driver's seat. Christian doesn't say anything, which is good. Max doesn't want to talk to him.

They pass the stupid marble fountain and pull out of the driveway proper, on past the artificially manicured trees and into the Oxfordshire night.

The motorway is nearly empty this time of night. Max takes up a steady pace towards Milton Keynes.

Daniel wraps his blanket more tightly around himself. Max reaches over wordlessly, threads his fingers through Daniel's.

Daniel sighs as Max's thumb moves over his. His breath evens out slowly, slows into sleep.

Max doesn't let go of Daniel's hand the entire way back.

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For the uninitiated, you can read more of Icarus here!

Send me an ask with a scene or set of lines from any of my fics and I'll give you a director's commentary! Or, send in a ⭐star⭐ to have me select a section I've been dying to talk about!

(This particular ask ended up being an outtake, but director's commentary is more in the vein of explaining choices in wording or scenes, or explaining narrative choices)

Translation for the dutch:

"You better not be a driver's parent divorce. Because that happend to me, TWICE"

Anyways, sorry for tge homestuck refrence in here. Just ignore it.