#but we can ignore that

[sematarygirls]

        KILLER!RAFE x BESTFRIEND!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ murder, gore, dark comedy, anatomy innacuracies probably, angst?, insane continuity errors with dna evidence, rafe and reader shower together

NOTES .ᐟ i watched this movie called tragedy girls with my mom, and it inspired me to write this. just two bestfriends who love hate to kill together <3 sorry it gets a little rushed at the end. i mostly wrote it for the perimortem banter

"Rafe," you whined, looking down at the blood that had spurted from the random kook boy's neck wound right onto you. "You got blood on my new top," you huffed. "I specifically told you to avoid the jugular, so it didn't cause such a mess!"

"Well, why did you wear your new top to a fuckin' murder scene then, huh, princess?" he scoffed, his fingers flexing around the knife handle as he waved it around for emphasis, the deep red blood glistening under the warm yellow lights.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Because I look hot," you said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Now, give me the stupid knife. You aren't even doing it right!" You held out your hand, your stance alone radiating attitude.

He looked at you, a mix of amusement and frustration dancing in his blue eyes. "And you think you can do better?" he sneered. "I mean, for fuck's sake, he's dead. What more do you want, huh?" He complained but nonetheless, did as you said, flipping the knife handle first as he handed it over.

You wrapped your fingers around the handle carefully, ignoring his exasperation as you hummed thoughtfully. "You're just so... unimaginative," you replied, your tone a bit condescending as you eyed the boy's body at Rafe's feet, clearly mulling something over.

Rafe watched you carefully, his arms crossed over his chest—a clear sign of his quickly growing irritation—as he leaned against the wall. "Unimaginative?" he repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "What, are you gonna poetry read his fuckin' corpse or something?"

"Please," you scoffed, shooting him a look as you kneeled down beside the body. Your eyes sweeped over him thoughtfully, using the tip of the knife to brush a strand of hair from his face. "Stabbing is so 90s," you rolled your eyes. "It's not enough to just kill anymore. You have to be... creative," you explained, as if there was a section in Cosmo on being a teenage serial killer.

Rafe threw his hands up in the air, clearly exasperated. "Oh, it's not enough to just kill anymore, we have to be creative?" he parroted, his voice going up an octave to imitate you in an unflattering falsetto.

"Local boy found stabbed doesn't quite have the same ring as local boy found gutted, now, does it, Rafe?" You scoffed, shooting an annoyed glare his way. "It's all about the optics."

"Oh, it's all about the optics," Rafe mimicked again, finding your pretentiousness both amusing and frustrating. You were like those insufferable film bros but with murder.

"Will you stop repeating what I'm saying back to me in that condescending tone?" You stood back up, turning to face him and crossing your arms over your chest. You couldn't work with him being the world's douchiest parrot right in your ear.

"Or what, princess?" Rafe asked, his voice low and mocking. "You gonna time out and have a little temper tantrum because I'm not taking your murder 101 lecture seriously enough?" He pushed himself off the wall, his eyes never leaving yours as he stepped closer.

"I oughta gut you next, you asshole," you threatened, pointing the knife at him for good measure. Although, you both knew that you'd never actually hurt him.

"Oh, yeah? And who's gonna clean up that mess, huh?" He smirked, leaning in close so that his breath was hot against your face. "You can't even handle a little blood on your shirt without whining about it."

You rolled your eyes at his arrogance. He was completely insufferable and annoyingly hot. "Shut up," you retorted sharply, getting back down to your knees next to the boy. You put the knife down for a moment, deftly unbuttoning the buttons of the boy's shirt.

Rafe watched you work with mild interest, his eyebrows raised. "What are you doing now, giving him a post-mortem fashion show?" He asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is why I stick to stabbing."

You ignored his remark, picking the knife back up and stabbing into his sternum. Blood splattered onto your face, your jaw clenching as you used all your strength to drag the knife down his body, cutting him open from his chest to just below his belly button.

Rafe flinched slightly as blood went flying. "Jesus Christ, warn a guy next time," he grumbled, wiping a stray drop from his cheek. He watched you work, a grimace on his face. "Remind me never to piss you off,"

"You already do," you deadpanned, curling your fingers into his skin and prying the flaps open to reveal his internal organs. "Literally every day."

"Ha ha, very funny," Rafe said dryly, his gaze flicking to the organs spilling out of the boy's chest cavity. "What the fuck am I even looking at right now anyway?" He squinted and tilted his head, clearly trying to decipher what parts of the body he was seeing beneath all that blood.

"I don't fucking know. Do I look like a doctor to you?" You looked up at him, shrugging. It wasn't like you'd researched how to mutilate a body prior to this. You were just sort of winging it.

"You look like an insufferable know-it-all who thinks they're better than everyone else," he quipped, crouching down beside you and looking into the body. "Is that... a lung?" He asked uncertainly.

"Didn't I just say I don't know?" You asked sarcastically, giving him an 'are you fucking kidding me right now' look before turning back to peer into the mess of blood, guts, and organs. You didn't really have a plan beyond cutting the poor guy open.

"Well, this is just fuckin' great," Rafe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I was perfectly fine with just slitting his throat and leaving him, but nooooo you had to get all creative and worry about the optics like some kind of psycho Van Gogh."

"Will you calm the fuck down," you groaned, using the back of your wrist to brush a strand of hair out of your face and smudging blood on your forehead in the process. "I can't focus with you whining in my ear."

"Me? Whining?" Rafe scoffed, his eyes widening in offense. "I'm not the one covered in blood and guts, playing amateur butcher here." He shook his head, looking at you like you were the world's biggest idiot.

"I told you. This shit will make better headlines," you defended. "In the wise words of Tiffany, stabbings went out with Bundy and Dahmer," you quoted, tilting your head in thought.

"Great, so now you're quoting fuckin' Bride of Chucky to me?" Rafe rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. Leave it to you to overcomplicate something as simple as killing someone.

You grinned, looking over at him as he recalled the exact movie you quoted. "Aww, you remembered?" You had forced Rafe to watch a shit ton of horror movies over the course of your friendship, but you never really thought he was actually paying attention to them.

"How could I forget? You made me sit through every single one of those god-awful films, complete with your annoying play-by-play commentary," Rafe grumbled, but deep down, he loved how excited you got about movies. Your jokes and ramblings were the only thing that made half those movies worth watching.

You turned back to the corpse, letting out a heavy sigh as you sat back on your heels. "Should we just... leave him like this?" You grimaced, not really wanting to touch any of his organs.

"What, you're done now?" Rafe rolled his eyes, standing up and wiping his hands on his pants. "I thought you had some master plan to be the next Da Vinci of serial killers."

"Can you even name a Da Vinci painting?" You rolled your eyes, grabbing the knife and standing up, blood coating your clothes and skin. "Besides, I said we had to get creative. I never claimed to know what the fuck I was doing," you pointed out. Though, it was all semantics, really.

"Of course I can name a Da Vinci painting," Rafe huffed, though he couldn't actually remember any off the top of his head. "It's... uh... The Last Supper." He crossed his arms, glaring at you in annoyance. "And maybe the fuckin'... uh, who's that bitch with the brown hair? Oh, the Mona Lisa."

"You remembered The Last Supper before the fucking Mona Lisa—literally the most well known painting in history?" You asked incredulously, shaking your head in disbelief, having a normal conversation with him as if you weren't standing over a mutilated corpse.

"Who gives a shit about the Mona Lisa or The Last Supper for that matter," he scoffed, motioning to the dead body on the ground. "Now what the fuck are we gonna do with this guy, huh?"

You sighed, shrugging. "Fuck if I know," you looked from the corpse to him.

"Well, that's just great," Rafe said sarcastically. "We kill the guy, and now we have no idea what to do with the body. You're a real fuckin' genius, you know that?" He shook his head in exasperation.

"Okay, well, if you wanna get bitchy, technically, you're the one that actually killed him," you said stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance.

"Oh, because slashing him open and rearranging his insides was just so innocent?" Rafe retorted, mimicking your stance and crossing his arms.

"Okay, I never said that I was innocent," you defended yourself, gesturing around with the bloody knife as you spoke. "I just said I wasn't the one that killed him."

"Semantics, sweetheart," Rafe drawled, his eyes rolling in annoyance. "Either way, we're both fucked if the cops find this body. So, come up with a plan already." He sighed heavily, looking around the room, as if expecting a solution to magically appear.

"You come up with a plan," you fired back. Why did you have to be the one to fix this mess? You were both royally fucked if shit hit the fan, so why was he putting all the pressure on you?

"Because you're the one with the goddamn imagination," Rafe growled, jabbing a finger at you. "You're the one who wanted to get creative with killing him. So now you get to be creative with getting rid of the body, too."

"You really gonna keep throwing that in my face?" You asked, the tension in the room growing with each passion second. "I was just trying to make things more interesting!"

"Well, congratulations, you succeeded in making things interesting," Rafe spat, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now we're up to our eyeballs in shit and you can't even come up with a basic fucking plan to dig us out."

"I have a plan, you dickhead," you shot back with a huff. "Just carry him to the bathroom," you ordered, motioning to the hallway with the bloodied knife.

Rafe's eyebrows shot up, disbelief written all over his face. "To the bathroom?" He echoed incredulously. "What the hell are we gonna do with him in there? Give him a bubble bath and sing him to sleep?" He threw his hands up in frustration.

"Just carry him to fucking bathroom, smartass," you rolled your eyes. Everything was always a fight with Rafe. He couldn't just do what you asked. No, he had to make a billion sarcastic and bitchy comments in the process. God, he was so dramatic.

"Fine, let's take the mutilated corpse to the fucking bathroom," Rafe grumbled, moving to grab the body. He grunted as he grabbed the boy under the arms "You better have a damn good reason for this, or I swear to God..."

"Do you always have to complain so much," you groaned, trailing behind him. As much as Rafe was being a shithead, you couldn't help but admire the view of his biceps flexing underneath his t-shirt as he dragged the body.

"Would you rather I be all smiles and sunshine while carrying a disemboweled corpse to the bathroom?" Rafe shot back sarcastically. He dropped the body unceremoniously into the porcelain bathtub. "Now what?" He demanded, turning to you with a glare.

"Okay, I did not disembowel him," you said, rolling your eyes at his dramatics as you turned the tub on, turning the temperature to its max. "All his organs are still in his body," you argued, waiting for the water to heat up, occasionally dipping your fingers underneath to test the temp.

"Oh, well, as long as his organs are all nice and cozy inside him, I guess that makes it all okay then," Rafe retorted, watching you carefully as you plugged the bathtub, letting the water fill up.

"The water should burn off any DNA evidence, or at the very least, make it extremely degraded," you explained, steam starting to billow up from the tub and fill the small room. "So, we can just leave him here for like, his housekeeper to find or something."

Rafe's eyebrows shot up, "Leave him for the housekeeper to find?" He echoed, "And what, we just waltz outta here, hand in hand?"

"Aww," you cooed, looking over your shoulder to grin at him. "You wanna hold my hand?"

"Fuck you," Rafe spat, but you could see the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He crossed his arms over his chest, clearly annoyed but not entirely displeased by the idea.

"You wish," you snorted, willing the tub to finish filling up. You were becoming increasingly aware of how sticky and uncomfortable the blood was on your skin, especially now that it had gone cold.

"In your dreams, maybe," Rafe shot back, though his eyes flicked down to your arms, taking in the crimson stains that painted your skin. "You're a mess," he commented gruffly.

"Well, murder isn't exactly a clean endeavor." You turned the water off and turned back to him, crossing your arms over your chest. Rafe had blood all over his hands and spatter across his face and shirt. He wasn't nearly as bloody as you, but he wasn't clean either.

Rafe looked down at his red-stained hands, flexing his fingers as if just now realizing how messy he was. He glanced back up at you, his expression unreadable. "We should clean up."

"What?" You asked, gaze darting to the glass shower in the corner. "You wanna hop in the dead guy's shower? Seems a little insensitive, don't you think?" You grinned, making a joke of the situation.

"Oh, ha ha," Rafe deadpanned, uncrossing his arms and moving past you to turn the water on in the shower. He turned to you, his expression serious. "We'll shower together."

Your eyes widened a little at his bold demand, but you couldn't deny that it was practical. "Yknow, normally, I'd say you just wanna see me naked," you teased him. "But, that's actually not a bad idea. It'll save time."

"Don't flatter yourself," Rafe scoffed, though his eyes lingered on you for just a moment longer than necessary. "Less talking, more stripping," he said, pulling his shirt over his head.

You internally groaned at the sight of him shirtless. You'd seen it before, but the view of his toned chest simply never got old. You started to pull your own clothes off. "So, what are we gonna put on once we finish cleaning all this blood off?" You asked curiously, tugging your pants down your hips.

Rafe's jaw clenched as he took in your naked form, his eyes roaming over you appreciatively before he tore his gaze away and finished undressing. "There's probably a robe or something in here," he muttered, stepping into the shower and letting the warm water cascade over his head, falling down his broad shoulders.

You hummed, nodding as you stepped into the shower with him. It was a fancy ass shower with multiple shower heads and streams of water, which made washing up with another person much easier. You tried to keep your eyes North of the equator and not sneak a peek at his dick as you pumped some soap into your palm, lathering it in your hands.

Rafe watched you from the corner of his eye as he soaped up his own hands, his expression inscrutable. "You know," he said after a moment, "for someone who just helped me murder a man, you're awfully relaxed right now."

"You know, for someone who just let me help him murder a man, you're awfully relaxed right now," you grinned, mirroring his sentiment as you rubbed the soap on your body, trying to get rid of the blood staining your skin.

"Touché," he nodded, his hands roaming over his chest and arms, scrubbing away the crimson stains.

"Now, hurry up, so we can get the fuck out of here," you said, not wanting to be in the house any longer than necessary. Every minute that ticked by with you two in the room with your victim, was one minute closer to being caught.

Rafe finished washing himself quickly, his mind already on the task at hand—getting away from the scene of the crime. He turned off the shower and reached for a towel. He handed you one and took the other, both of you drying off in record time and pulling the soft, monogrammed robes on, you muttering something about 'fucking rich people' that had Rafe rolling his eyes—considering the fact that he also had monogrammed robes.

You collected your bloody clothes and the towels you had used, not wanting to leave anything behind before sneaking out of the house undetected and jumping into Rafe's truck parked a few blocks away. Once you were finally away from the house and certain you hadn't been seen by anyone, you let out a sigh, relaxing into the seat after you buckled yourself in.

Rafe started the truck and pulled out of the parking spot, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror as he drove away from the house. He glanced over at you, noting the bloody clothes balled up in your lap. "We need to get rid of those," he said, his voice low and even.

"We'll burn them," you shrugged, your tone indicating that it was the most obvious thing in the world. You leaned your head back against the headrest. You were exhausted and oddly, starving. Who knew that murder took so much out of a person?

He nodded. "Let's head to my place. We can order some food and discuss what to do now," he laid out a plan or pieces of a plan rather.

"Sounds good to me," you agreed, looking out the window and watching as the Figure Eight mansions blew by. You couldn't believe that you has just killed someone, and more than that, you couldn't believe you had just killed someone with the kook king Rafe Cameron.

tags .ᐟ   @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @iheartjjmaybnk / @all4l0vee / @kissesfrmriri / @xoxohoneymoongirl / @bradshawed / @fallbhind

[echosghoast]

never thought id say this but i miss taking french at school :(

[canonically47]

and i walk away from the unwind dystology with my guilty pleasure character being argent. how has this happened

[codgod]

slime straight up stealing the art of his family :( he misses them so muchhhhhh

[liza-lilly]

Wrath: I love Edgar. He's my bitch femboy.

[silenceintostone]

*browsing the thousands of books in the college stacks* there’s nothing 2 read….

[foolsocracy]

this is actually so funny. imagining garth quipping and contributing to the conversation in his head cause he forgot the rest of the teen titans can't pick up on his telepathy

[hinamie]

in spite of everything, I had fun <3

[faggydoe]

why is animal jam the only way I can socialize.

[teaboot]

Sometimes at work it's not my place to tell people the things I want to say, and I find I often go home at the end of the rougher days to stand blankly in my shower and tell myself over and over what I wish I could pass on.

This accomplishes very little, and mostly just gives me a tension headache, but through it all I think I've narrowed myself down to a few solid things I'd like to tell people the most.

You can't change people. Not permanently, not for anythig. You can support them, encourage them, love them, give them tools and opportunities and resources, but you can't make them change. They can change themselves if they want to, but they have to want to, and they have to want it for themselves, because they're the only one that's certain to be with them forever.

For better or worse, you make your own choices, and blaming bad choices on others doesn't only work to absolve you of responsibility- it also robs you of control. Because if you say you only did something because I did something, then you arent only shifting blame- you're admitting that you cannot control yourself, that you cannot truly make choices for yourself, that other people can control you- and as long as you truly beleive that, you'll keep facing the same problems over and over. You'll keep letting others dictate your choices, because you'll beleive that they can, and you'll never be free.

White knights on horseback are from fairytales. Nobody can help you if ou're not willing to help yourself. To try, to put the dirty work in, to belive you're worth that effort- Act as though nobody is coming to save you. From a struggle, from pain, from bad relationships, from yourself. And when you do save yourself, because you will, because failure here isn't an option if you want to survive, you'll never find another dragon that can keep you prisoner.

Don't say anything to anyone that you wouldn't want them remembering forever.

Doing the right thing in bad circumstances is hard. It's the hardest thing. But if you make the choice to do that hard thing anyways, despite your fear, you'll go on the rest of your like knowing that you're the sort of person who did something.

The present only seems the hardest because the past I over and the future hasn't happened.

There's so much joy ahead of you, the kind you can't possibly understand until you see it yourself.

The responsibility of consequences is often disguised as the power of permission. "I won't do this if you help me", "I'll work on my anger if you do this for me", "I promised you I'd quit, but can I have just one?". The unspoken question is, "Can it be your fault if this goes badly?"

You cant make someone love you the way you need to be loved. Someone can love you very much and still be bad for you, even if you love them very much in return. Two people can love each other very, very much, and try their very best, and still be wrong for each other.

Sometimes being near to someone changes you, even in good ways, and the people you become don't fit together as well as the people you were.

Caring takes work. Even if it's real. Especially if it's real. And the most important gestures aren't the grand, poetic, songs-and-flowers-and-tears moments; they're getting out of bed even though you don't want to. Paying attention to things you don't enjoy. Scrubbing pans, or opening a window, saying "thank-you", or helping carry groceries into the house. The small things fill the big things- without the small, boring, mediocre things, big things feel hollow.

Thrre is honour and dignity in humble work.

If you are a cruel and spiteful person, then you will find every place you visit to be full of the same cruel, spiteful people. This is not because the world is as cruel as you, but because everywhere you are, you will be disliked. This is the curse that comes with being persistently cruel and spiteful.

If you are a kind and ppsitive person, you will repeatedly encounter kind and positive people, because as they grow familiar with you, they will be happier to have you near. This is the reward of being a kind and positive person.

When splitting paths with loved ones, briefly or forever, aim for your last words to always be "I love you".

[lazylittledragon]

did somebody say dadkarios

[corpsentry]

pick your battles

[andminnequin]

PRIDE MONTH’S ALMOST OVER AND I JUST REMEMBERED I HAD TO DO THIS

SPEEDRUNS IT

[lastoneout]

Saw a post talking about this and didn't want to derail it, but like, honestly, at this point, I'm becoming less and less tolerant of people acting like straight/cis passing privilege is a real, very serious thing that needs to be taken into consideration every time someone speaks on queer issues bcs I swear to god the only time I ever see it actually brought up is when someone is trying to deny someone else a seat at the table. Like first it was used against bi+ people to explain why we're not queer unless we're in a same gender relationship, and then it was used to shit all over ace and aro people for not being "visibly queer", then they turned on nonbinary people who "look cis", and now I see people throwing it at trans men for some reason like???? This is legit becoming an exclusionist dogwhistle to me. Any merit to this concept is completely obliterated by assholes who are so addicted to playing oppression olympics they're meticulously crafting pokemon type advantage charts to categorize all the gays based on who actually has "real" problems and who doesn't, it's agonizing.

Like putting "straight/cis passing privilege" up on the shelf next to "comphet" until people can learn how to use it in a way that doesn't invalidate someone else's queerness.

[caspergs]

every time someone famous is outed as being a shitty person theres people going “this is why you shouldn’t idolize celebrities,” “why are you sad that a bad person is being exposed as a bad person,” like PLEASE just let people be upset that someone they liked sucks

[bet-on-me-13]

Wes ruins everything

Wes had finally done it, he had finally realized why nobody ever belived him about Fenton and Phantom! It made so much sense now, he had been looking for an answer for years, thinking he was going crazy because everybody refused to see the Obvious!

He was Cursed!

He literally had an Ancestoral Curse on his Bloodline that made it so that all those born with the gift of Prophecy would be ignored! A Gift of Prophecy that he apparently had.

It was Cassandra's Curse, the one from Greek Myths. Apparently she was his Great×1000 Grandmother and passed down the Gift (and Curse) of Prophecy to him. And he knew how to break it!

All he needed to do was gather the right resources, chant the correct incantations, make sure not to accidentally summon a Demon in the process, and he could just foist the Curse onto some other poor schmuck. Sure it would suck for them, and he would loose his Gift of Prophecy, but Wes had been ignored for Years at this point, he needed validation!

So he did the Ritual, and he didn't mess it up, and he managed to get rid of the Curse.

Now all he had to do was convince everybody that he was right for the first time in his life! This was going to be great!

...

Cass didn't know what was going on.

A while ago, she had started getting these...gut feelings that she couldn't explain.

She would look over the details of a Case her Family was working on, and see a patern that the others were seemingly ignoring. Like when she realized that The Penguin was about to raid the Docks on the East Side, but the others were convinced it was going to be on the West.

But when she had tried to tell them, they had brushed her off. "We've already concluded that he will begin the Raid on the West side, no need to go to the East."

She had gone anyways, and low and behold she had been right. But nobody even acknowledged that she had been right at all, they had just wondered how they had missed the signs, not even questioning how she had known.

It wasn't limited to Cases either. Even small things, like telling her brother's where the TV remote was were brushed off, and hours later they would still be looking, never even having checked where she told them.

It seemed that no matter what, nobody cared about her point of view anymore. They kept brushing her off, telling her she was wrong, actively ignoring her ideas.

And it was getting worse. They were starting to ignore her more and more, forgetting she was in the room, not calling her down for Dinner, even forgetting to check in on her during Patrol.

She knew that there must be something going on, Magical or otherwise, but when she tried bringing it up with her Dad or JLD, they would also Brush her off.

Her Family was forgetting her. And they didn't even realize it.

...

Danny was not okay at the moment.

When he had gone to school a few weeks ago and noticed everybody staring at him, he didn't give it much thought. Maybe Dash or Paulina had spread another Rumor about him again, not too out of the ordinary.

When his name had been called over the Intercom, he hadn't thought much of that either. His grades were falling even more than usual, so he assumed his Guidance Counselor wanted to have another talk with him.

When he walked into the Principals Office to see both of his Parents and some GIW Agents, that's when he realized something big must have happened.

He didn't have much of a chance to react when the Shields went up, but he did react when the first Ecto-Blast scorched the wall behind him. His Parents began to scream at him as they fired their Blasters, something about replacing somebody? He didn't know, he was pretty preoccupied at the moment.

It took more effort than he cared to admit to escape the Room, but a stray shot to the hidden Shield Projector under the Principals Desk proved to be his saving grace. Unfortunately the moment he escaped the Office, he was met with a veritable Army of GIW Agents, all armed to the Teeth with Weapons he had never even seen before.

He managed to get away for a moment, hiding in the Bathroom as the Agents chasing him passed it by. That's when he met Wes.

He obviously hadn't been expecting him, but the moment he saw him Wes put on a smug look. "Oh hi Fenton, trying to get away from the other students?"

Danny had replied with confusion, "What the hell are you talking about?!"

"I finally managed to convince everybody about you, now everyone knows that you're Phantom! I'll bet you're hiding from all of the other Students hounding you for questions right?"

"...it was you?"

"Yeah, so? I finally get to be right!"

"...You absolute MORON-"

That was the last Danny got to say to Wes before an Ecto-Blast launched him through a Wall, seeing his face morph into a look of Shock just before the dust cloud covered it up.

Since that day, Danny had been on the Run. Nowhere was safe anymore now that the GIW knew both his Human and Ghost's faces, but he had to keep running. He crossed state Lines already, and was on his way to the next Ecto-Rich City he could sense, somewhere in New Jersey.

He cursed his Fenton Luck every day. Why had everybody believed Wes this time?! Nobody had ever belived him before, nobody even seemed to acknowledge his existence after a while! What had changed?

Danny just wanted to rest already.

...

Cass had taken to Patrolling alone recently. She had taken to doing a lot of things alone, actually.

After the first month, it seemed that nobody could remember that she was in the room with them, even if she was within their eyeline, she just faded into the background. By the 2 Month Mark they had stopped talking to her entirely, although occasionally she would get a Text or two from her dad. By the 3 month Mark she was completely invisible, and By the 5th she had been forced to get used to it.

She didn't know what was going on, was it a Meta Ability? Magic? Alien Tech? She had no idea.

She had begun to cook for herself after the first time Alfred forgot to set her Plate at the Table. The same with Washing her own Clothes, Cleaning her Room, and Paying her Phone Bills. At the very least the Automated Allowance Payments to her Account had kept up, or she wouldn't have been able to go to her favorite Cafe anymore.

It was bittersweet for her. She used to go to that Cafe every week with Alfred, but he didn't even come on his own anymore. Had he only come for her? Did she really mean that much to them? It hurt, she finally had a family that cared for her and suddenly she didn't exist to them.

She sat alone at a Table, ignored by everyone in the Cafe as usual, when a new face walked in. He looked about her age, a little roughed up, walking with a sort of cautious gaint, as if he was scared of something. His Body Language seemed to agree with her assessment, as his body practically screamed "Worry" in its movements.

Cass stopped watching at that point. Just another Gotham Teen, probably worried over something like getting not having enough money or getting mugged on the way home. It was a Common sight in Gotham.

She attention was pricked again for a moment when she heard a voice speak up. "Uh, can I sit here?"

She ignored it, he wasn't talking to her.

"Um, excuse me? Miss? Could I sit here?" He repeated.

She ignored him again, he wasn't talking to her. Nobody talked to her.

"Hello? Do you have Earbuds in?" He said, and he waved his hand in front of her face.

Her face. He waved his hand. In front of Her Face.

He was talking to her.

She looked up at him sharply, seeming to startle him for a moment before he asked, "So, is that a no?"

"You can see me?" She asked.

He looked a bit bewildered, but replied "Uh, yeah? Why would I not? Are you...a Ghost?". That last part sounded a bit suspicious.

"No. Not a Ghost. But nobody sees me. Ever. Nobody remembers me." She replied. She had never spoken this much to anybody outside of her Family, but in the past few weeks she had been starved for interaction.

He seemed slightly interested, and sat down at her table. He looked her in the eyes, and said "Do you...talk about it?"

She smiled. He could see her.