#a gift of sunshine

[elene78-blog]

Andrew looks at Kevin after the game against the Trojans.

"How does it feel?" He asks Kevin.

"Losing is not pleasant for anyone," says Kevin.

"Sorry," Andrew says without meaning it at all. "I wanted to say, how does it feel to know that Monsieur Misérable and Mr. Golden Smile are fucking together and have agreed to beat you up?"

Kevin turns to him with a growing bad mood.

"They're not having sex."

"D'Artagnan hit you too hard with the racket. You don't know what you're saying."

"They're not having sex, Andrew!"

"New bet then. I say that France conquers California before the end of the year... In two months if Monsieur Trauma takes care of his shit."

"...Jeremy has never told me he's gay."

Andrew remains silent. He turns his head towards Kevin very very slowly.

"300 dollars."

"We're not going to bet on this..."

"500 dollars."

"Why are you so happy to do this?"

"What do you mean, Kevin? I'm a very happy man."

It's impossible to tell if Andrew is joking with that unflappable expression.

And so the betting returns to the Foxes.

[retrogamingblog2]

Custom Clear Nintendo Gamecube Consoles made by RetroGamesJapan

[nyaar0n]

@aftgsecretsnowflake gifts for @jean-meowreau! merry christmas <33

[jkriordanverse]

Nothing, just thinking about how (hc) Inej getting excited each time a crow brought her a "gift" because she feeds them so often that Kaz started to litter the area with trinkets and presents so that the crows would pick them up and carry them to Inej-

[diezmil10000]

青い空が待ってる

[gentlebeard]

If I could hold you for a minute, Darling, I’d go through it again

For @edsbacktattoo & @stedesearring 💕 Show: Our Flag Means Death - Season 1 & 2 Music: Francesca by Hozier YouTube

[pinklotushere]

*throws this and runs*

Blüdhaven was used to the flips, the twirls, and the relentless quips that came with Nightwing. The acrobat in black and blue had long been the city's shadowy protector, darting from rooftop to rooftop with a grin that never quite matched the chaos he left behind.

But something had changed, and the people of Blüdhaven were starting to notice.

“Yo, remember last week when Nightwing—uh, if that’s still him—just shattered Luka’s arm? Like, no banter, no nothin’? Just crack.”

Eddie leaned back in his chair at The Last Stop Diner, his gaze fixed on the group of regulars seated at the corner booth. He wasn’t the only one with questions.

“I thought I was imagining things,” Carrie chimed in, stirring her coffee. “But I swear to God, the guy’s built like a brick wall now. You see him take down the Steel Street crew? No flips. No acrobatics. Just…straight punches.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Eddie slapped the table for emphasis. “He didn’t even bother dodging. Just ate one of their hits like it was nothin’ and decked the guy right after. I don’t think he even grunted.”

“Maybe it’s steroids?” someone suggested.

“Or a mid-life crisis,” Carrie shot back, rolling her eyes. “Dude looks fifty now, minimum.”

But speculation didn’t make sense of the facts. Gone was the lithe, nimble Nightwing who once turned gang fights into chaotic circuses.

In his place was a towering figure, six feet of raw muscle and no nonsense, fighting with the kind of technique you’d expect from a hardened boxer rather than a trapeze artist.

Even the criminals were baffled.

“Hey, Luka, how’s the arm?” Eddie called to a guy limping past the diner window.

“Shut up,” Luka snarled, holding his sling protectively. “Don’t know what that guy’s problem is, but it ain’t normal.”

The Steel Street gang had been laughing when they saw Nightwing show up last week.

“Aww, here he comes,” one of them had jeered, “with his flips and twirls!”

And then the old man had decked him.

No clever quips, no acrobatics—just a straight, brutal left hook that left the guy crumpled on the ground. The others tried to jump him, but every one of them got the same treatment. A solid punch here, an elbow there, and a particularly nasty uppercut that sent Luka to the hospital.

By the end of it, the gang wasn’t laughing anymore.

The rumors started spreading.

“You think it’s still him?”

“Gotta be. He’s wearing the suit.”

“But the guy’s, like, twice the size he used to be! And where’s all the snark? I haven’t heard him say anything in weeks.”

Whatever had happened to Nightwing, one thing was clear: Blüdhaven’s protector wasn’t playing games anymore. And the city hated it.

“I miss him,” Carrie admitted one evening, staring out at the skyline. “Like, the real him. The guy who made all this crap we deal with…bearable.”

Eddie nodded solemnly. “The flips. The jokes. The way he’d tie those gangsters up in, like, Christmas lights and leave ‘em swinging from a lamppost? Where’s that guy? Where’s our guy?”

When he came back, the city didn’t let him go quietly.

It had been months of fear, confusion, and speculation, but when Nightwing finally swung into action the way he used to—quips, flips, and all—it was like the entire city exhaled at once.

Carrie spotted him first. “No way,” she breathed, pointing to the figure perched on a rooftop, striking his usual pose.

When he leapt down, somersaulting through the air to knock out three gangsters in one motion, Eddie cheered so loud he nearly lost his voice.

The word spread like wildfire

By the time Nightwing finished his patrol, there was a small crowd waiting for him at the edge of a park.

People—actual civilians—approached him with tearful smiles, holding out fruit baskets and baked goods.

“Uh…” Nightwing hesitated as a little girl shoved a bouquet of flowers into his hands. “What is happening right now?”

“You’re back!” Carrie exclaimed, throwing her arms around him in a hug so tight he nearly dropped the flowers.

“Don’t ever leave us again,” Eddie begged, thrusting a pie into his free hand.

“Wait, what?” Nightwing blinked, completely baffled.

“You abandoned us!” an older woman scolded, shaking a finger at him. “Where were the flips? The sass? Do you know how scary you got?”

“I…uh…” he stammered, utterly lost.

The crowd parted slightly, and to Nightwing’s utter disbelief, a few familiar faces emerged from the shadows. Gang members. Former enemies. Even a couple of low-level villains.

“Yo, man,” muttered one of the Steel Street crew, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh…we kinda brought you a thing.” He held up a sleek, black and blue leather jacket. The stitching was uneven, and the Nightwing symbol on the back looked like it had been traced from a comic book, but it was clearly handmade. “Figured you could use something fresh. Y’know, for the cold nights.”

“...Thanks?” Nightwing said, taking the jacket with a mix of confusion and astonishment.

Another thug shuffled forward, holding a battered book in his hands. “Here.” He thrust it at Nightwing. “It’s a joke book. You’re always crackin’ one-liners, right? Well, these might be better than what you’ve been using. No offense.”

“None taken,” Nightwing replied dryly, tucking the book under his arm.

A burly enforcer stepped up next, dragging a pair of free weights behind him. “These are for ya. You were hittin’ like a freight train last time, so, uh…might as well keep it up, right?”

A lanky member of the Steel Street crew awkwardly handed him a single boxing glove. “For when you’re really feelin’ old-school,” he joked. “Signed it for ya too, in case you wanna auction it off someday.”

Nightwing stared at the growing pile of gifts in his arms, the ridiculousness of it all threatening to overwhelm him.

“So, uh, promise you’re not gonna leave us hanging like that again?” Eddie asked, still clutching his pie.

“I…promise?” Nightwing managed, his voice tinged with disbelief as he juggled the flowers, joke book, weights, and jacket.

Somewhere in the back of the crowd, a man muttered to his wife, “You think he’s weirded out by this?”

“Probably,” she whispered back. “But it’s Nightwing. He’ll make a joke about it later.”

Nightwing, overwhelmed but smiling faintly, realized he’d never understand Blüdhaven’s people. But for once, he didn’t mind

[logansargey]

Simi as text messages

[thepriceofsurvival]

What is Jean Moreau’s love language?

Is it acts of service?

Is that why he holds onto the postcards and why he despises how Kevin only showed guilt not anger and didn’t sacrifice himself for Jean (and also why Jean hated how easy it was to fall into Kevin’s bystander role with Neil)

Like, the postcards and the necklace and the shirt from Jeremy are all gifts, but I feel like it represents acts of service more than anything.

Kevin taking the time to pick out postcards and magnets reminding him of Jean and writing him things. (And also why Jean taught him French)

Renee giving him a token of her faith (her reason for still being here) and of course being the one who saved him (he always hated himself for this, never her)

Jeremy (and the girls) wanting to buy him more and different clothes, because he is not a Raven anymore and they want to help him carve out his own identity.

[owlarchimedes]

Do yourself a favor and DONT google the meaning of Jean and Nathaniel because WDYMMM they're named "God is gracious" and "gift of God" because they were always meant to be forever partners but in the end did it even fucking matter? God's gifts to the Court only to be used and discarded and thrown away (is God truly gracious?) and for Nathan's gift to be stolen away by Mary (God's gift revoked)

[ohmycuckoo]

Claim your own body, Jean-Yves Moreau

[dawnatlas]

i just feel so so so spoiled and grateful for tsc right now. every single thing i wanted to see was in that book. a deeper look into jean and kevins relationship, jean having people to rely on + the veeery slow but sure curve towards healing, the trojans being a walking pride parade, crumbs of neil and jean interacting, every single jerejean interaction,JEREMY CATALINA AND LAILA, UGH IM JUST SO HAPPY. like yeah i felt like jumping off a ledge every other page but GOD IT'S SO GOOD AND IT DELIVERS SO WELL

[retrogamingblog2]

Miniature Retro Gaming Setups made by Mindy Barrett

[heymacy]

he's my silly little guy ╰┈➤ for @whatthebodygraspsnot

[tazernatic]

His breath hitched as he inhaled sharply, unable to look away from Jeremy while he choked out the last line directly to him, “But mostly, I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”

— I Want You To Want Me by @adamsrcnan

[d4rkshad0w]

i really hope that Nora focuses on Jeremy’s trauma in TSC2 because i freaking love Jeremy and these little crumbs she gave us in TSC weren’t enough and i’m dying to know what happens to him and his family