#MIssed Connections

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 16

First | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom: DP x DC Summary:

Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.

Part 16:

Jason carefully kept his writing legible as he wrote down the heating instructions. Considering Ghost seemed to be living off granola bars he was not taking any chances. 

There were signs Ghost had returned a few times. The bag and calibrator was gone of course, and the sandwiches were disappearing. It wasn’t good enough. Ghost needed more than sandwiches, it was better than living solely on granola bars, but it was not enough. He needed something more energy dense - hence the meat and vegetable stew and the mashed potatoes he’d made, packed in portions for easy reheating. But he had to make sure it was easy, he didn’t want to risk it being too bothersome and him not eating any. 

Slowly, deliberately he put the pen down so he didn’t break it and laid his hands down flat on the kitchen island. Jason was in control, not the pits. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting the seconds… 

…seven… eight…

Carefully he pushed the voice away that insisted he just lay a trap instead of all this tip-toeing around. It would be all too easy, Tim had found out how to short-circuit his powers. It hadn’t lasted more than an hour or two, but really there was no reason they couldn’t just attach some sort of device to him and repeat the small EMP charge every hour - it would be easy.

It would be horrible.

It was not how Jason wanted to go about it. Fucking Pits. Fucking intrusive thoughts. He hung his head taking deep breaths. He just wanted a little bit of peace of mind, was that too much to ask?

A half-choked gasp sounded behind him and he spun around wide-eyed. There, across the living room section of the open plan apartment was Ghost halfway through the far wall. His eyes were wide and looked as shocked as Jason felt. 

Jason didn’t dare breathe as he slowly raised his empty hands. One wrong move and he could ruin everything. He swallowed dryly and ever so slowly he stepped to the side around the kitchen island and backwards, away from Ghost, deeper into the kitchen, cornering himself, leaving all exits free - even if Ghost didn’t technically need any. Ghost followed his movements warily only moving his head, his body completely frozen, still only halfway through the wall. 

Jason’s back hit the cupboards. It was as far as he could remove himself. It was all he could do. The ball was in Ghost’s court. 

Please don’t run.

Jason didn’t think he could handle that one more time. 

Oo o oO

Danny kept his eyes locked on the currently helmet-less not ghost. His heart rabbited in his chest and his whole body felt coiled like a spring, torn between running or going forward. He was terrified, but he also yearned-

Danny had become complacent. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but he cursed himself for it now. He’d just moved thoughtlessly through the wall and his ghost sense had only had time to warn him when his eyes could do just as well. The barely there mist had fizzled uselessly out of his mouth when he gasped. 

Helmet moved carefully away from Danny, as far away as he could in the kitchen. His hands were raised as if in surrender. He looked as harmless as a six foot tank could, which to be fair, it wasn’t the size of the man, that scared Danny. No, it was the fact that his entire body screamed trap. Danny was not keen on a repeat of his powers being gone, and the risk, the knowledge of it, it threatened to tear apart his painstakingly assembled composure. 

Red Helmet might have taken him away from the other vigilantes, but he was still one of them. Danny just could not let himself trust him and it hurt, deeper than his still fucked up ribs. It hurt just to keep his core in a chokehold to stop it from calling to him. Never mind the near irresistable longing; Danny wanted so badly to go to him. 

Danny couldn’t let himself. 

Yet it was Helmet, not Danny, cornered right now. Caught in the act of something at the kitchen island. There was a small piece of paper on the island and Danny was curious. 

And there were also still so many unanswered questions. How could he hear Danny but not respond? What was that thing about the anger he’d mentioned? Why had he given Danny back his backpack and the spectral calibrator? The calibrator in particular, because that one strictly speaking didn’t belong to Danny. Why was he stocking up food in an apartment he clearly didn’t live in? For Danny?

All were questions he couldn’t get answers to by running away. 

Danny just had to keep his instincts on a tight leash. 

Watching warily for any sudden movements, Danny slowly phased the rest of the way into the apartment. His beat up sneakers barely made a sound as he touched down on the wooden floors, but still Danny flinched. 

Their eyes met and both held their breath.

Helmet looked away first. In fact he pointedly looked anywhere but at Danny now, seemed very intent on studying the counter now picking at non-existent dirt. 

Somehow him not looking made it easier to walk closer and he carefully did. There was a whole kitchen island between them - that had to be enough for Danny’s paranoia. 

He now stood where Helmet had stood when he came through the wall, he could pick up the paper. 

It was heating instructions - for him.

His resolve crumbled and the paper crinkled as he clutched it like his life depended on it. Such a little detail. Not just the food left here, but instructions. When was the last time anyone had cared like this?

“Why-” His voice broke and tears prickled at his eyes. He cleared his throat and swallowed before trying again. “Why are you doing this?”

He looked from Danny to the note in his hand, seemed to mentally discard something, before admitting quietly, “I know what starving is like.” 

Danny balked. “I eat.”

“I took a backpack full of protein bars off you.”

Danny grimaced. Just eating the sandwiches left for him here had been a vast improvement. So what if he didn’t eat well, he ate enough to survive. The fact that Danny could cling to existence through force of will was something he didn’t want to examine - his human half was still alive that had to be what mattered. 

“So this anger thing,” Danny forcefully changed the subject like a bull bursting into a China shop, “tell me about it.”

Helmet tensed and that in turn made Danny tense. He might have overstepped. The moment was long and drawn out as Danny waited for the other shoe to drop. Slowly, Helmet let out a long sigh and forcefully relaxed his body. It didn’t put Danny entirely at ease, but it helped.

“There’s not much to tell,” he faked at nonchalance but there was something tightly leashed in his voice. 

Danny didn’t buy it for one second. “Try again.”

There was a grimace and it looked almost like there was some sort of internal fight going on, until eventually he spoke. 

“I got exposed to some nasty shit, ever since then I’ve had anger issues. I only realized once they were gone how pervasive they were.”

He looked away.

“I have hurt people - killed people - I thought they deserved it, but I’m not so sure anymore, not for all of them.” And there was pain there, in his voice, in his face, this was a hard thing to admit, not just to himself, but out loud to someone else. 

Danny’s heart ached for him. The silence stretched between them and Danny prompted gently, hesitantly, because he didn’t understand this part himself: “And I make it better?”

“For about two days, give or take.” There was an affected casualness in the tone, but Danny noticed the way his hands clenched into tight fists. It had been about two weeks since Danny had last been in a room with the man. Two weeks since Danny had had any physical contact. He harshly clamped down the projection of longing before it could escape his grasp. 

It was, Danny realized, no wonder that Helmet had chased him so vehemently. He could not only hear Danny’s call for him, but he had something of his own he struggled with. Something that Danny could apparently do something about, or rather his core song, if Danny was putting the pieces together right.  

But Helmet wasn’t chasing now. It must have been two torturous weeks.

“You have found a way to nullify my powers, why not just use that?”

Helmet’s jaw clenched. “It’s not exactly nice.”

“Didn’t stop you two weeks ago.”

“I had nothing to do with that!” He snarled taking a step forward eyes glowing ectoplasmic green.

Danny took a step back at once cautious and intrigued. Not a ghost, but definitely something. 

It looked like it took great effort, but he stepped back, plastered himself back against the cupboard and his eyes were blue again. Softly, he whispered “I only ever wanted answers.”

He wanted help. Danny’s breath caught. He was asking Danny for help, even if it wasn’t in those specific words. Danny looked down at the handwritten note in his hand. Helmet hadn’t planned for meeting today. He’d been just as shocked as Danny. He’d written him instructions with no guarantee Danny would ever help him, despite struggling with this anger. 

Danny did not owe him anything, Danny was not beholden to anyone in this dimension, but he was asking for help.

Danny hesitantly stepped around the counter. 

Mentally he countered each argument for why this was stupid. 

He took a step forward. There was no trap. Danny chose to believe him when he said he didn’t want to use whatever device that had been on him. 

Danny took another step forward, and step after step until he was right in front of him. Danny didn’t look up to see whatever expression may be on his face, it was easier like this standing face to chest. And it was a nice chest, wearing a red henley worn soft and fuzzy through countless washes. It was easy to take the last step into his space and lean his forehead forward to rest against him. 

It was harder to let go of the tight ball he’d pulled his emotions into. 

“Can I?” Helmet asked, arms hovering slightly away from him. 

“Yeah,” Danny replied hoarsely, and then arms settled around him hesitantly, warm, human - not tight or trapping him, it was considerate but not what Danny needed. A wounded sound left his chest and he pressed closer. He clenched his eyes shut but still tears ran wet tracks down his cheeks as he finally gave in - let go. 

His core was a cacophony of grief warring with happiness. Melancholy and joy twisting and churning neither one really winning. Danny was so tired and worn he couldn’t focus on what he should feel. All this and maybe he couldn’t even help him? 

If he couldn’t get the happiness going what use was he?

But then the arms tightened around him and it was a proper hug. He was being held. There was a hand in his hair tugging him into the crook of Helmet’s neck, as he bent slightly over to surround him. Danny’s forehead against the crook of his neck, skin again skin. A warm body. A fast heartbeat in his ears. 

He was not alone. 

His core thrummed with the knowledge. 

Danny lost time. 

It was terrifying. It could have five minutes or an hour that they stood there for all Danny knew. He had been so lost in the warmth of human contact and the content song of his core. 

A shiver of fear went up his spine and he tensed.

Last time he had fallen asleep. That, he could at least understand. He’d been extremely exhausted after everything that happened. But this was different. Danny didn’t even know if he would have noticed Helmet moving him - he hadn’t; they still stood in the exact same spot. 

He made to draw away and for one heart-stopping fraction of a second, Danny thought Helmet wouldn’t let him go. But that was uncharitable, he had to give Helmet time to even realize what he was doing. Just cause Danny’s brain was running a mile a minute, and a second seemed like an eternity, didn’t mean it was to anyone else - and Helmet did let him slide out of his arms. Danny looked up, eyes just a bit wide. He was trying to stay calm, he was. He didn’t know how to interpret Helmet’s expression. His eyes met Danny’s, his brows were doing something, his mouth was a line downturned at the corners. His arms were raised, drawn back just slightly after Danny slipped away.

Danny took another step back.

Helmet didn’t move. Danny realized suddenly what the expression was; he looked sad.

Danny’s core pulsed painfully, and his breath stuttered. He wanted to go back to that embrace, he wanted to stay and forget everything else. 

It was all he could do not to run, because those feelings were terrifying in and of themselves. He turned and he carefully walked to the far wall. He stopped there, clenched his trembling hands. His eyes trailed an uneven line on the white wallpaper. 

This wasn’t just about him.

“The day after tomorrow,” he said, loud enough he was sure Helmet could hear him. Then he couldn’t hold back anymore and he threw himself through the wall. His heart raced in his chest all the way back to his lair. 

It went against every cautious bone in his body to reveal he’d be somewhere at a specific time, even such a vague promise as the day after tomorrow. It was as much as he could get himself to do.

It wasn’t just about him. 

-

Alright and that's probably it for the rapid updates, this part mostly needed edits to fit better with what actually ended up happening in the earlier parts and I hadn't written the ending, I wasn't sure I'd get the time today, but I did so, tadaa!

Things are going better! It's not all misery anymore.

Danny wasn't quite this terrified early in the story, but then he felt relatively safe in his ability to get out of situations. Having his powers knocked out, really brought up a boatload of trauma. It's just also really making him out of sorts to be that at odds with his core.

I hope it makes sense.

[foldingfittedsheets]

I remember the first time I got a missed connection. For those unfamiliar, Craigslist has a section that’s basically, “We met and I had a great time but I didn’t get your number.” I was unaware this existed until my coworker came in buzzing with excitement that I had a missed connection.

The post was along the lines of, “It was a hectic lunch rush and you were a friendly redhead who made us feel so welcomed.” It was definitely me. While the redness of my hair has been debated no one else on staff had any red at all.

The idea behind these missed connections is to reach out if you felt a spark too. I didn’t even remember the guy, but it was a nice flattering moment. My coworker evidently watched the page like a TV show, living vicariously and hoping to have a secret admirer of her own one day.

Several years passed and I was working at the sex shop. I was freshly dumped by my first girlfriend and feeling very lonely about it. I was working my shift alone in a dull haze when a guy came in. He greeted me and asked about toys.

I was showing him some when I noticed a sheikah eye of truth tattoo on the back of his hand. “Oh, I love Zelda!”

He looked surprised and we started chatting about it. He told me he wished he could play Twilight Princess but the Wii wasn’t accessible to him. That’s how long it took me to realize he only had one arm, and I just said that it was a bummer he couldn’t play that one and moved on.

We had a great conversation and I felt my spirits lifting as we chatted. I’d been so depressed and it was lovely to meet someone it was easy to talk to. He was right around my age and had the same taste in games.

He found a toy he liked eventually and left. A sudden conviction took hold of me. He was absolutely going to post a missed connection. That fun conversation is what straight people would consider flirting. I told my roommates when I got home and they rolled their eyes. But I was absolutely certain.

I refreshed the page every few hours, and sure enough, there it was. Honestly it does seem like a nicer way to drop a hint to a service worker than asking them out on the spot. He said to name his tattoo if it was me and I wanted to hit him up.

I responded to say that I was gay but that I’d love to hang out and play games, that I’d really enjoyed the conversation and it was the first bright spot I’d had in a while.

He never wrote back.

[beingharsh]

[massachusetts-official]

missed connections: pink person standing in the skate section of north point park. bright pink hair. bright pink sweater. bright pink leg warmers. nobody else around. i could see you from my 1:05 train to newburyport & i literally leaned around the conductor to look at you bc i thought i might be seeing things

That sounds like someone who is on Tumblr, so let's see what happens

[tinybaileaf]

[victusinveritas]

[sleepyynix]

[potsiefaerie]

Oh, also, there was a cute enby nurse at the ER today. Asian, bleached hair up top, butch vibes, and pins on their name tag: the This Is Fine comic, a heart-shaped non-binary flag, and a cactus (I think). And then later they were wearing blue and green plaid flannel over their scrubs.

And uh. I just think tumblr ought to know? And maybe they're on here somewhere.

So if anyone knows someone like that named Mack who works in an ER near Washington, DC, tell them they're cute and I hope they have a great week and I'm sorry I chickened out of saying I'm nonbinary too 💛🤍💜🖤

[abbatoirablaze]

Missed Connections, Natasha Romanov

Word Count: 797

“Just go talk to her.”

“Yelena…”

Nat felt the blush creeping up her cheeks as her best friend and sister Yelena gently punched her in the arm, “come on, I see the way you’ve been looking at her the whole meal.  You’re looking at her like she is your dessert.  And honestly, I can’t say I blame you.”

“That’s enough.”

“If you don’t talk to her, I will…”

Nat’s blush faded from her cheeks, and she looked at her younger sibling.  There was an unspoken argument as the two sisters tried to force each other into doing what the other wanted. After a moment, Yelena got a smirk on her face and scooted her chair out. 

Nat’s eyes went wide, and she reached for her arm, “wait…”

“So, you’re going to talk to her?” she asked, quirking her brow, “you’re going to have dessert this time instead of me?”

Nat nodded, upset with herself that her younger sister had managed to get her to do what she’d wanted, “Yeah…I’ll talk to her.”

“Good!” Yelena smiled victoriously, “I’ll wait right here for you.”

Nat nodded and tucked some of her blond hair behind her ear. 

Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to tell herself that the attractive woman sitting alone and reading Tolstoy wasn’t intimidating, but the more steps she’d begun to take towards her table, she felt something that she hadn’t felt since she was a child.

Nerves.

Her anxiety kicked into high gear, and her heart thudded so heavily in her chest she thought that she was going to have a heart attack in the middle of the diner in the heartland of America.  At the last second, she turned away from the table, forcing herself to go into the bathroom.

“You can do this...you can do this…” she groaned as she forced herself in front of the mirror and placed both of her hands on either side of the sink, “you can do this.  Just go out there and talk to her.”

“Huh?”

Nat’s eyes widened.  She tore herself from her thoughts and realized that the girl from the table had been behind her, “are you okay, beautiful?”

Her throat went dry.  Her lips parted, but nothing came out.  Nothing except a soft whimper.  The woman, who had spent her entire adult life, and most of her childhood as a spy felt like a lost teenager as she stared helplessly at the woman she was attracted to. 

“Are you okay?” she repeated softly as she stepped forward and her hand brushed across Nat’s cheek and forehead, “you feel a little warm and you look a little pale…”

“Oh, uh yeah…” she lied, nearly shaking as the woman’s hand fell down to her shoulder and grazed along the length of her arm, before settling on her hip.  Nat swallowed nervously as her eyes met that of the mysterious woman, “you uh-“

“Your friend tried hitting on me after you passed my table,” she informed her, as she cut Nat off.  Nat frowned, upset that Yelena had actually gone after the woman when she wussed out, “I told her I wasn’t interested.”

Nat’s eyes snapped up to the mysterious woman’s, “you what?”

“I’ve been reading Tolstoy for nearly an hour…hoping you’d come and say something…especially with how you’d been eyeing me down the whole time.”

The blush that was on Nat’s cheeks fanned down her throat and across her chest as she began to feel warm, “you-you were?”

She nodded, leaning in.  Nat felt her eyes instinctively close as she too, leaned towards the other body.  And just as she felt her lips grazing that of the other woman’s, something inside of her snapped. 

“NATASHA!”

Her eyes snapped open as Yelena snapped in front of her. 

A new blush rose to her cheeks as she looked at her younger sibling.  Yelena looked amused, and Nat realized that she was leaning halfway across the table.

“Were you trying to kiss me?” her younger sister laughed. 

Nat sat back and shook her head, “what?  No!”

“You were day dreaming about the gorgeous woman that left a few minutes ago, weren’t you?”

Nat instinctively looked towards the booth where the woman had been sitting.  She frowned to see it empty, but her lips parted when she noticed that she’d forgotten her book.  Getting up, she rushed the booth before the waitress could get there and she picked it up. 

The spine was clearly bent in a way that made her think that she’d read the book nearly too many times.  And as she opened the front cover she smiled. 

You’re cute.  Call me.

Nat bit her lip and smiled as she looked at the number, the ink barely dry as her hands grazed over it, slightly skewing the digits. 

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 14

Let's just ignore I've updated this story three days in a row, @ailithnight asked me to make them cry, so we're giving the challenge a shot. This was written today and may very well have typos. Also it literally can't go on like this, I have work tomorrow.

First | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom: DP x DC Summary:

Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.

Jason had called ahead to let them know he was coming to the cave and then promptly turned off his comms again. He didn’t need to hear their questions. Not on comms. It was bad enough he had to face them. 

He drove into the cave, his resolve the only thing keeping him from turning right around. Everyone but Bruce were in their civvies at this point. Jason shouldn’t be so surprised Bruce had called it a night. Not after ghost jumping off a roof in front of them. 

Bruce did care, and Jason could tell himself that now without poison dripping into his ear about how it was only to keep his little soldiers at the top of their game. He was too exhausted to appreciate the missing put at the moment, he just wanted to go home and try to forget for a moment that Ghost had left again, but he had to do this. 

Dick was sitting with an arm around Tim on the meeting table. Tim looked wrecked - good, he thought grimly and immediately felt guilty. He didn’t even have the pit to blame and yes Jason was angry about what had happened tonight, but really he was just as angry at himself. Jason might have tried to make them understand that Ghost needed help, but he’d done a poor job of it and they didn’t hear his grief for themselves. 

They hadn’t felt Ghost’s terror in their electricity trap, his desperate fight to control his panic, they hadn’t felt it as he fell or the shock of pain as he landed. They hadn’t felt the panic reach a fever pitch and then utter silence.

They hadn’t been 50 yards away on another building, running, because they knew something terrible was about to happen. They weren’t the ones who thought they might have already been too late even as they caught him out of the air. 

But Ghost had been alive. He’d been breathing. Panicked, but breathing, yet still utter silence. 

Jason had been terrified. 

And yes he was angry. He should have never let it get so far even in his desperation. They needed to stop chasing him. It wasn’t working. 

It had nearly cost him his life. 

He was a fucking burglar, not a rogue! He wasn’t a murderer who would kill someone if he wasn’t stopped. They should have never used this level of force. They never would have used this level of force if it wasn’t for Jason and his erratic behavior. It was on Jason, not Tim who was a seventeen year old kid just trying to keep this cursed family together. 

Damian was sitting at the meeting table a few seats away from where Tim and Dick were sitting on the table and for him to willingly be that close to Tim without any needle-ing commentary it was practically the equivalent of a hug. 

Jason sighed, then pulled off his helmet and left it on the bike. He couldn’t hide behind the safety of its smooth surface, not for this. He walked over to the meeting table, knowing it would draw the rest over there.

Damian took one look at him, with that sharp judgment that was always in his eyes. “You let him get away.” Jason grit his teeth, refusing to rise to what was just an observation, but it had been a trying night and it was tempting to snap, that he didn’t let him do anything. 

“His powers returned,” he said finally, carefully even-toned.

Tim looked up shortly at that and Dick squeezed his shoulder. Normally, Tim would have been on that detail like a hawk. How long did it last? Did the powers return gradually or all at once? Were there other adverse effects? And probably more questions Jason had not even thought to consider because that was just Tim. Now, Tim was silent.

“Jason?” Bruce asked carefully from somewhere to Jason’s left. Jason couldn’t look at him. Last time they’d been this close Jason had almost shot him. 

Stephanie and Cass joined Tim and Dick to sit on the table, and Damian allowed Cass’ hand in his hair only because she could kick his ass six ways ’til Sunday. Duke was the last to join their loose circle standing to Jason’s right. 

Jason didn’t have any excuses left. He even saw Alfred standing a ways further by the wall. Everyone was here. Babs was definitely still on comms with Bruce, even if the cowl was pulled back. 

He tried to take a steadying breath without being too obvious about it. He probably failed, horribly. 

“You have to leave Ghost to me.”

“Jay… you’ve not exactly…” Dick said carefully, the only one willing to even go near the fact that Jason should be the last person to go after Ghost. That he had been far from rational about the whole thing. That he was invested, personally more than they could even guess. 

“I need-“ Jason looked to the ceiling, breathing for just a moment, before looking down again. “I need you to trust me on this, to let me handle it. What happened tonight… it cannot happen again.” 

He clenched his hands, gathered every shred of courage, then looked to Bruce. 

“Dad, please…” He ignored the gasps from his siblings, from shock or outrage that he of all people pulled this card, maybe both, it didn’t matter. Jason only had eyes for Bruce’s stunned face, for the way his jaw tightened and his eyes were moist under pained brows. He only had ears for the way Bruce’s voice broke partway as he said: “Of course, Jaylad.”

“Thank you,” Jason whispered, afraid his voice would fail him if he spoke any louder. He held Bruce’s gaze with his as he said it, because he deserved to know how much that meant to him. The urge to go over to Bruce was strong, to see if his dad would hug him if given the chance - he thought he would, but that, that would be too much, and the pit would be back in a couple of days. 

Jason couldn’t handle any more tonight. 

He gave Bruce a tight nod and turned to leave, avoiding looking at the reactions of his siblings. 

Out the corner of his eyes as he left, he absently noted the purple backpack he’d stolen from Ghost sitting by the evidence board and that metal cylinder, Ghost had left behind the night Jason had met him, sitting on a shelf amongst other knickknacks. 

In the back of his mind an idea was taking shape, but he'd only realize that the next day.

-

I made myself cry writing this, that happens very rarely. Jason has had a really bad day, but it was the father-son feelings that did me in.

I do not know when I will update next time, the chapter this part belongs to is like 2/3rds done now, but it's the middle I need to fill out. Oh well, I'm enjoying the writing bug while it lasts. Update: Next

[unevenpatterns]

Fic Idea: Soulmate Dream AU - Jetko

Jet dreams of fire. There is nothing surprising about this and he doesn't think anything of it for a long time. Everyone in the Freedom Fighters' camp have nightmares of flames. It's such a common nightmare that he doubts it'll help in terms of finding his soulmate.

Until he reaches his teens when the dreams suddenly take a weird turn. He keeps seeing flame reaching for his face in his sleep. Over and over again.

At first he thinks nothing of it. It must just be his own dreams that are getting twisted, right? But it's such a distinct dream and the details in the attacking fire soldiers face are too clear to be random.

It's his first soulmate dream and it only fuels his hate for the fire nation. They haven't just hurt him, they've also hurt his soulmate.

When he sees Lee on the ferry he can't help it. With a burn on his face like that, what are the odds? Of course there are plenty of people who have gotten burnt, but to survive a burn to the head isn't all that common.

It's not the only reason why he wants Lee to join them, but it is what makes him slightly obsessive about it. His mind is going, what if? what if?

His life hasn't exactly been great so far, but maybe this one thing will actually be ok? Maybe there is some hope of connection for him despite everything he's done and maybe it's even with someone who understands his struggles. Not to mention someone who knows how to fight and is extremly competent at doing it (which he finds infinitely attractive, it's a problem).

Jet suddenly understands what all the fuss is about. He was all for playing the field and waiting a long time to settle down. But... if it's with someone like Lee the prospect of other people suddenly pales in comparison.

Then he sees that old coot firebending and the dream go up in flames.

Of course he wouldn't be so lucky. There's no way that Lee is his soulmate. An ashmaker, a liar, and damn if he doesn't feel like a fool for falling for the sham.

It makes the betrayal ten fold worse and his decision to get them brought to justice burn like a fire under his skin. Whoever is his soulmate with a burnt face, it sure as shit isn't Lee.

[beingharsh]

[the1989slut]

okay so its a long shot but I'm posting this on tumblr (my homeland) and instagram (wider usage) trying to find the girl who gave me my most meaning full friendship bracelet

we were at Chicago Night one (6/2) the bracelet said "MY LOVE SHOULD BE CELEBRATED" and it is my favorite thing because it reminds me that I am worth more than what I have received from toxic people in my life

theres like a 0.01% chance of her (Blue Dress Girl) but I really want to say thank you to her so if you could spread this that would mean the world

[butchratchettruther]

Thinking about how funny Missed Connections is from anyone’s perspective other than Nightshade’s

From Tarantulas’ perspective, this random excitable incredibly nerdy child wandered into his lab (which is in a graveyard), presumably either lost or trying to hide, and becomes his assistant out of sheer curiosity. When he asks them to run away with him in order to hide from the ambiguously evil agency trying to imprison and/or indenture bots (and put them in fighting rings but I’m presuming he doesn’t know about that) they respond by looking dramatically away and saying they have other ...obligations here. And then you go to their house and find out that they’re living with a full on GHOST agent, who’s saying inexplicably threatening things, and misunderstandings ensue.

From the rest of the sibling’s perspectives, it’s a no-school day, but their sibling Nightshade is building inventions instead of hanging out with them. Then they read Batman and tries to go visit the author in a graveyard, and whilst they’re gone, they try and fix their invention with duct tape and self-confidence to try and get Nightshade to hang out with them, and end up breaking it further. Nightshade, however, is not angry, because they met a scientist in the graveyard, and wants to take apart the murdersphere 5007 with the scientist. And then a giant spider kidnaps their parents. 

From Dot and Alex’s perspective, their child is struggling to connect with their siblings, asks about morality, might have met a decepticon, and then they get kidnapped by a giant fucking spider in the middle of the night.

Perfection.

[tinybaileaf]

[blackangelism]

“missed connections”

for @casiotone-nati0n and anyone who is curious about my inspirations

A missed connection is a type of personal advertisement which arises after two people meet but are too shy or otherwise unable to exchange contact details.

a lot of these are quite funnily phrased, it’s craigslist afterall, but there’s a certain category that is a rabbit hole and is one of the most beautiful things ever.

simply reading these and picking phrases from these make my poetry so much better. i always try and go back to these when im in a creative rut.

i’ll let the advertisements speak for themselves.

these are only some of the overwhelming number of them.