#having friends who are like. poor or who were also in foster care is kind of more important to me

[the-pea-and-the-sun]

i look for irl friends everywhere but its always. my fucking coworkers. like inevitably the place im gonna find my best friends isnt gonna be through school or hobbies its the other ppl who are also working alongside me for just above minimum wage.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Forgotten Nest - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Mitchell!OC (Cora)

Word Count: 3.1k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Past Unplanned Teenage Pregnancy; Angst; Absent Father Figures; The 'He Didn't Know About the Pregnancy' Trope; Repeating Trauma Cycles (Teen Pregnancy, Absent Parents, etc.); Crying; Carole Would Be Disappointed; Named Mitchell Daughter OC (Cora) and Named Mitchell-Bradshaw Son (Nickie)

Summary: Years ago, Rooster left Cora Mitchell's life when her dad pulled his papers. And, unknowingly, he left behind something other than just his toothbrush.

A.N. There are references to a previous unplanned teenage pregnancy (between two eighteen-year-olds) in this fic. There won't be any flashback scenes to the pregnancy, but the references are still there, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

Master List

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue

Rooster walked out of the admiral’s office with his new orders clutched carefully in his hand. He kept his head held high as he walked through the narrow halls of the USS Gerald R. Ford, heading for his quarters to pack his bag and prepare to fly back to US soil. To Top Gun. To Miramar.

The Californian town had a lot of memories—some of the best and some of the worst of his life. It was the town where he lost his dad before he truly understood the gravity of it all. It was also the town where he spent his later years of high school after his mom died. Where he learned how to drive, where he graduated high school, where he had all of his firsts with a girl—now woman—whom he hadn’t seen since he stormed out of her life.

Cora Mitchell. Maverick’s daughter.

As a result of some poor decisions at nineteen, Maverick ended up with daughter only a few months younger than Bradley. Cora’s mom wanted nothing to do with her and even though Maverick was far from fit to be a father, he would have preferred falling down 100 flights of stairs than letting his child go into foster care.

Carole quickly offered to help raise Cora and help Maverick out. And as his mom used to call them, they were built in best friends. And in the later years of high school, they were a lot more than that. Sneaking into each other’s beds and spending the nights together was fairly regular and easy for them to pull off with Maverick’s bedroom on another floor.

Of course, then Maverick pulled his papers and then he left that life, and Cora, behind completely.

Rooster entered his room and shut the door behind him, heading for his bunk. His roommate wasn’t in, still doing drills with the rest of their squad, leaving Rooster alone with his thoughts. He opened the folder again, reading over the orders once more before he found his gaze shifting. Pulling out his personal bag, Rooster reached into one of the smaller pockets and pulled out a small photo preserved in laminate.

It was from a photo booth at Bradley’s senior prom. Cora sat on his lap, beaming at the camera as Rooster pressed a kiss to her cheek.

It was stupid to still be this curious about what Cora was doing with her life. After all, he was the one who broke up with her and stormed out of her life, saying all kinds of nasty things that he regretted the second that he said them. And he had to admit that he had scrolled through social media, trying to find a glimpse into her life, to no significant results.

All he knew was that she took some time off after high school and eventually graduated from nursing school. He assumed that she was still working as a nurse. And he knew that she now lived in or around Miramar. He didn’t have the guts to try and contact her when he was in town for Top Gun the first time around.

But maybe this new, and probably highly dangerous, mission would finally give him the kick in the ass to try and make things right with Cora. Even if it was just a simple apology, like a small ‘sorry,’ it would take away some of the guilt that ate away at his stomach every single time that he remembered her crestfallen expression and calls for him to come back.

Tucking the photo back into his bag, Rooster stood up and started to pack, letting his mind wander to what Cora’s life looked like now.

~~~~~

“Nicholas Peter Mitchell!” Cora thundered, marching towards the stairs, still dressed in her scrubs from work. “Get your butt down here now!”

Cora was only partially pleased to hear her son scrambling around, undoubtedly in the middle of some kind of panic due to her tone. She tapped her foot, able to picture her son’s exact expression of fear. She would have preferred that he simply told her ahead of time because then they could deal with it together, but he forced her hand by hiding it.

The sound of a door opening and a soft pattern of footsteps caused Cora to pick her head up. Her eyes narrowed when her son, Nickie, poked his head out from behind the wall with a sheepish smile. She shook her head when his expression gave away the fact that he knew exactly why she was upset. And that only caused her migraine to intensify.

“Hey, Mom. Did you have a good shift?” Nickie asked kindly, stepping out from behind the wall. “And did I mention that I love you and that you look more beautiful than usual today?”

Nickie, or simply Nick to his friends, was far from her twin. His hair was a light brown and curled at the end. His eyes were big and light brown, like someone she knew well in the past. The shape of his head and his cheekbones that were starting to emerge from the baby fat came from her side of the family, but the slope of his nose reinforced his father’s influence on his features.

But his sheepish, mischievous smile was definitely a Mitchell trait. Undoubtedly.

“When were you going to tell me that you got a speeding ticket?” Cora questioned, eerily calm despite her earlier yelling. “Today? Tomorrow? Next week? Never?”

“Mom, I already paid it off—”

“—When were you going to tell me?” Cora demanded, not amused. When Nickie fumbled for a response, Cora straightened up. “You have had your license for a month and you’ve already gotten a speeding ticket, Nickie. That’s not funny. You clearly do not understand that your car and your license are privileges, not rights.”

“It was at that speed trap under that highway pass on the way to school,” Nickie tried to explain, but Cora was not going to give him an inch of the moral high ground.

“I do not care where you got the ticket. I care that you were reckless behind the wheel of a motor vehicle. I care that you got a speeding ticket and now it’s on your record. And I care that you hid this whole thing from me.” Cora sighed, placing her hands on her hips and shaking her head at her son. “How much was it, Nickie?”

“Thirty bucks,” Nickie replied quietly.

“Well, then I think that thirty is an appropriate number of days to not need your car. And a good number of days to think about the importance of following traffic laws,” Cora stated, folding her arms over her chest. “Where are your keys?”

Nickie sighed and walked downstairs to grab his keys from the countertop. He quickly returned to his mother’s side and placed them into her open hand without a fight. Cora closed her hand and shoved the keys into her pocket.

“I’m serious, Nickie,” she stated softly, causing the teenager to turn back to her with doe eyes. “I don’t want you getting hurt. And speeding around, especially on these roads where there’s a thousand pedestrians and everything—it’s not safe. For you or anyone else.”

“I know, Mom. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for having the maturity to realize that it was your bill to pay,” Cora offered her son in return, her tough exterior cracking just a bit. She rubbed her face tiredly. “And that’s probably what I get for letting your grandfather teach you how to drive.” Letting out a sigh, Cora dropped her hand from her face and turned back to Nickie. “How’s your homework coming?”

“Mostly done. I’ve got a test tomorrow.”

“Good.” Cora set her purse and the mail down on the countertop. “I’ll get started on dinner after I take a shower. Work on your homework and I’ll call you when I’m done.”

Cora walked into her bedroom and made a beeline for her on suite bathroom. Throwing her scrubs into her specified scrubs laundry bin, Cora quickly washed up from a long day at work. She changed into some comfortable clothes and a Navy sweatshirt before heading to the kitchen to start on dinner. The sun started to set in the distance as Cora waited for the chicken to cook.

The distinct sound of a Kawasaki caused her to look up from the oven, frowning with surprise. Walking over to the front windows, Cora was shocked to see her dad pulling into the driveway.

“What the—” Cora walked over and opened the front door, stepping out onto her front porch. “Dad? What are you doing here?”

“I thought that I would drop by since I was in town,” Maverick replied, setting up his kickstand and getting off his bike.

“Why are you in town? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” Cora added on, walking down to greet him. Maverick picked up the bag that he strapped to the back of his bike and pulled his daughter into a hug. But when she felt him wince, she instantly pulled back with a sharp, knowing look. “What happened now? What did you do this time?”

“Is that dinner that I smell?” Maverick asked, redirecting the conversation.

“You’re not getting out of this conversation,” Cora warned him, turning for her home and pulling the door open. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not twenty anymore? And could you at least wear a helmet once in a while?”

“Mom, who are you talking to?” Nickie yelled from upstairs.

“Your grandfather decided to drop by. Randomly,” Cora called back to her son.

A second later, there were a set of rapid footsteps echoing down the hall before Nickie appeared at the top of the stairs. His grin was immediately wide, showing the likeness between him and his grandfather, before Nickie hurried down the rest of the stairs to greet his grandfather.

“What are you doing in town?” Nickie asked, jogging over to Maverick.

“Well, I thought that it was a good idea to visit my favorite kid and grandkid once in a while,” Maverick joked, pulling Nickie into a hug despite his aching ribs

“Pops, I’m your only grandkid,” Nickie pointed out, frowning slightly.

“Still counts.” Maverick stared up at Nickie, jokingly inspecting him. “Did you get taller since the last time that I saw you? You look taller.”

“Maybe you’re just shrinking,” Nickie quipped, causing Maverick to turn to Cora.

“Don’t look at me,” Cora replied, gesturing to her own short stature. “Nickie over here got about three generations worth of height.”

Or, rather, he just had other genes to pull from when it came to height. And the men on the other side of Nickie’s family were all at least six feet tall, like Nickie was quickly shaping up to be. But not a single Mitchell in that household was going to bring that up.

Once dinner was finished cooking, the three Mitchells set the table and sat around, chatting and catching up since the last time that Maverick was in Miramar.

“I thought that you said that you wouldn’t be done with that project for a while,” Nickie stated, turning to his grandfather.

“Well, plans change,” Maverick replied noncommittally, glancing down at his plate.

“Because they were actually changed or because you felt the need to change them?” Cora deadpanned, cutting into her chicken.

“There might have been some . . . minor scheduling changes.”

“So, you’re not just visiting then,” Cora deduced, reaching for her drink. How she wished that it was wine instead of water.

“How long are you in Miramar for then?” Nickie asked excitedly, reminding Maverick painfully so of Bradley as a teenager.

“A few weeks. Somewhere around a month.”

“For what?”

“That’s classified,” Maverick replied, causing Nickie and Cora to roll their eyes in seemingly practiced sync. “I’d tell you, but—”

“—But then you’d have to kill us, yeah, we know, Gramps.”

“How’s school then? Still swimming and everything?” Maverick asked Nickie, changing the subject.

“It’s good. Swim doesn’t start for a few more weeks, but I’m trying to train before it. But I think I’m going to have to focus on running.”

“Why? Something wrong with the car?” Maverick questioned, looking concerned.

“No, just the driver,” Cora replied, setting down her utensils. “Nickie got a speeding ticket.”

“How bad?” Maverick asked, earning a sharp look from Cora. “I mean, that’s bad, Nickie. Don’t do it again. You have to get a little bit more driving experience before you start speeding.”

Cora sighed, holding her head in her hand for a moment as Nickie hid a smile behind his mouth. Maverick shot Nickie a joking smile before straightening up in his seat.

“But you’re doing good in school, Nickie?”

“Pretty well. Pre-calc is kicking my butt, but I think it’s supposed to get better.”

“Well, don’t be afraid to enjoy your teenage years a bit. Don’t go rushing off to try and grow up before your time,” Maverick replied, glancing over at his daughter for a moment. “Besides, I thought that you were going to try out for the surf team.”

“They want me to,” Nickie agreed, taking a bite of his dinner. “Mom’s a little scared to let me do it.”

“I just think that baseball is safer,” Cora replied softly, reaching for her drink. “Besides, between swim and water polo, you’re going to turn into a prune, Nickie. Not to mention that you go out sailing with Penny and Amelia all the time.”

“I just like the water, Mom,” Nickie stated, missing the pained expression on Cora’s face. “And besides, the baseball coach is an asshole.”

“Language,” Cora stressed, causing Maverick to chuckle.

~~~~~

After dinner, Nickie excused himself to finish up his homework. Cora and Maverick worked together to clean up after dinner and to set up the spare room for Maverick to sleep in while he was in town. But after the finished up the housekeeping, the father and daughter sat out on the back porch. Cora poured herself a glass of wine for the conversation and brought Maverick a beer.

“So, why are you really in town?” Cora asked, sitting down.

“Ice called me in,” Maverick stated, causing Cora to grow more serious instantly. “It’s a mission.”

“And not just any mission . . . is it?” Cora questioned, though she already knew the answer.

Ice wouldn’t have called Maverick in for just your run of the mill mission. This was a serious mission, that was certain. And that instantly caused Cora’s blood pressure to spike in an instant. Ice wouldn’t have called Maverick in unless it was something bordering on a suicide mission.

“No, it’s not,” Maverick agreed, nodding solemnly.

He looked away from his daughter for a moment, a rock settling in his stomach. It had been sitting there since a familiar face flashed on the screen in that conference room. But he knew that he had to unload it sooner rather than later.

To say that Maverick’s perspective on Rooster was complicated did not quite do it justice.

On one hand, as Cora’s father and Nickie’s grandfather, there was nothing that Maverick wanted to do more than to grab Rooster by his ear and give him the lecture of the century about responsibility and putting his personal emotions to the side to be a man and a father. Hell, if it was any other boy who did that to Cora, Maverick would have strapped him to the outside of the Darkstar and done a couple laps around the Earth.

But, on the other, as Goose’s wingman and the man who tried to raise Rooster, Maverick wanted Rooster nowhere near Miramar or this mission. Hell, Maverick did what he could to make sure that Rooster stayed as far away from a cockpit as possible. And that side of Maverick just wanted Rooster back in his life, safe and far from danger.

But being Cora’s father and Nickie’s grandfather was always the side that won out in the end.

“There’s something else,” Maverick began, causing Cora’s eyebrows to furrow with concern. “He’s involved in the mission.” Cora noticeably tensed up as Maverick added, “He’s here.”

“In Miramar?” Cora asked quietly, earning a nod from her dad. Sighing, she held her head in her hands for a moment. “Fuck.”

“Did you tell Nickie—”

“—No,” Cora interjected, cutting Maverick off. “No, I didn’t.” Not . . . not the whole story." She stared out at the backyard, out at the little swing set that Maverick and Ice built for Nickie on a warm afternoon so many years ago. “He’s supposed to be out in the middle of the Atlantic right now.”

“And I’m supposed to be in the Mojave.”

Nickie sat with his back to the wall, silently listening in on his mom’s conversation with his grandfather. He knew that it was wrong and he knew that he was already on thin ice with the speeding ticket, but he knew that his mom and his grandfather went outside to talk where he couldn’t hear them. But his mom always seemed to forget that the bathroom window was right above the patio.

“Have you seen him yet?” Cora inquired quietly, causing Maverick to nod slowly.

“Yeah, I did. Briefly. At the Hard Deck.”

“Did he see you?”

“I don’t think so, no,” Maverick replied, shaking his head.

Cora let out another sigh and held her head in her hands again. Maverick quickly got up from his seat, setting aside his beer and pulling his daughter into a tight hug. Cora latched onto her dad, trying to calm herself down and not shed anymore tears over Bradley Bradshaw.

But she failed. Just like she did the last thousand times.

Nickie clenched his eyes shut and curled his hands into fists. His mom was the strongest person that he knew. Life threw a thousand things at her and she somehow always managed to keep herself and him on their feet. But the second that anyone brought up his dad, she always flipped a switch.

She always broke down or went into absolute survival mode until something else snapped her out of it.

Nickie stopped asking about his dad when he overheard his mom sobbing to Penny in the middle of the night about how his dad still wouldn’t return her calls. It happened years ago, nearly a decade now, but it was still fresh in his mind. Burned there for the rest of his life. And, well, if his dad couldn’t even give his mom three seconds of his life, then Nickie wouldn’t give him an ounce of energy either.

And, hell, Nickie was a mama’s boy. And anyone who made his mom cry was dead to him. Dad or not, the fucker who never showed up for him or his mom was dead to Nicholas Peter Mitchell.

Whoever the hell he was.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue

[fluentmoviequoter]

I love your writing it's great could you write a Dalton Lambert x reader where the readers a single mom to a one year old chris introduced them and they hit it off so they've been together for 6 months and then before that friends for 6 months so the baby was 6 months old when they got together and is now a year old so Dalton became readers baby's step dad a little and reader and her child go with Dalton to his home for Thanksgiving break and meet his family obviously Cali doesn't really care and is happy to have a sister and niece now and Renia is happy to know Dalton is happy and absolutely loves the reader and her kid and then foster being the teenage boy he is doesn't really care that much but obviously Josh doesn't really like reader cause she's a young mom and is skeptical of her considering the problems he and Dalton have

So sorry for the long wait! I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted. I think this is my longest fic and it covers over a year; I tried to follow your timeline. Thank you so much for the request and the kind words!! Enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Warnings: fem!reader is pregnant and gives birth (no detail), unnamed child (nickname: Bump), marriage, lots of fluff, some angst towards the end. 3.8k+ words

A/N: The title is from "Come Together" by Aerosmith, which has absolutely nothing to do with the fic, I didn't explain why the reader is a single mom, that's up for interpretation/reader's choice. I also made a very obvious reference to another Ty Simpkins movie.

One and One and One is Three

✵Last October✵

“Dolphin, please!” Chris begs, extending a store-bought Halloween costume.

“I’m not going to another party with you, I’ve learned my lesson,” Dalton responds, crossing his arms.

“Fine.” Chris sighs. “I guess I’ll go by myself, just a poor, defenseless girl, and hope for the best. I thought we were friends.”

Dalton groans as he tips his head back, running a hand through his hair. “Why do you always do this?”

“Because it works. Now go change, we need to go.”

Chris tosses the costume onto Dalton’s bed before walking out.

Dalton takes a deep breath before picking up the bag.

“Iron Man? Really?”

After changing, Dalton meets Chris outside the dorm building, standing silently as she playfully fawns over him. The closer they get to the party, the more Dalton appreciates the cheap piece of plastic covering his face. Maybe he can get through the party and back to his dorm without any incidents this time.

Chris leads Dalton inside the house, greeting people and looking around as she walks toward the kitchen. Dalton hears several other Avengers yelling at him but pretends not to notice them. As he prepares to ask Chris what or who she’s looking for, she stops abruptly, and he nearly runs into her.

“Baby Bump!” Chris yells.

“Chris,” Dalton hisses, concerned he will have to break up a fight. He takes off his mask to prepare.

Chris hugs someone and then steps aside. “Dalton this is Baby Bump. Baby Bump, Dolphin.”

Dalton tells you his real name as you tell him yours. You laugh as you repeat his name and shake his hand.

“You’re…” Dalton begins.

“Pregnant?” you suggest. At the same time, Dalton finishes, “A kangaroo.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m a kangaroo. And you’re Iron Man.”

Chris interjects to say she’s going to find food. You nod sweetly and smile, sending Dalton’s mind into overdrive as he imagines you looking at him like that.

“Do you like Iron Man? Or did Chris get your costume? She wanted to pick mine, but I vetoed that.”

“Yeah, yeah, Chris picked it. She forced me to come, so I didn’t have much of an option,” Dalton answers.

You nod and smile up at him, making him wish he had the mask back on to cover his warming cheeks.

“You make a very attractive Iron Man if it helps.”

“I’m pretty sure you could tell me I look stupid, and I’d say thank you.”

You laugh, and Dalton thinks it’s the best sound he has ever heard. You look over your shoulder for Chris and shift your feet to find comfort.

“Do you wanna go somewhere else, or sit down? Anything?” Dalton offers, raising a hand toward you slightly.

“Yeah,” you answer with a sigh. “But you stay here, enjoy! Chris should be back soon.”

“Chris isn’t coming back, it’s like her favorite thing in the world to abandon me at parties. So, where to?” Dalton offers his arm, and you loop yours through, smiling as he walks you toward the front door.

“Why did you agree to come?” you ask as you exit the house.

“I’d never let Chris go to a party by herself. This one seems like a decent one, so I’m okay with leaving her.”

“Bad experience with a college party?”

“Frat party the first week.”

You make a sound of agreement. “You’re a good friend.”

“You never told me where you want to go,” Dalton points out, trying to get your attention off of him.

“I’m craving something really weird, so if you want to go home-“

Dalton cuts you off with a dramatic shake of his head. “Let’s get it. How weird can it be?”

✵Last November✵

“What do you guys want for dinner?” Chris asks, looking up from her phone.

“Your favorite concoction?” Dalton suggests, looking over at you, where you’re lying on his bed with your feet up.

“Never going to let me live that down,” you grumble. “I’m pregnant, Dalton, it was a one-time craving, get over it.”

“Yeah, Dalton, give your pregnant best friend a break. You’re so mean,” Chris adds, winking at you quickly.

Dalton rolls his eyes and returns to his drawing, listening to you and Chris discuss what to order. When the two of you decide, Chris places the order and then says she has to finish some laundry before it gets delivered.

“What are you doing for the break, Dalton?”

Dalton abandons his drawing; his interest shifted to talking to you. He sits at the end of his bed and stretches his legs beside yours. “My dad’s coming to pick me up after my last class, so I’ll be with them for Thanksgiving. What about you?”

“I’ll be in labor, hopefully.”

“You’re staying here?”

“Yep. My stuff got delivered to my new apartment yesterday.”

“Need help unpacking?”

You open your mouth to answer, then tense as a contraction seizes you.

“Was that a contraction?” Dalton asks, sitting up as his eyes widen.

“Yeah, just Braxton Hicks. I’ve had more of them this week.”

“If I’m not here, you’ll call when you go into labor, right?”

“Depends on what day it is and how fast it happens.”

Dalton says your name, waits for your full attention, then says, “Call me. No matter what day or time.”

You nod, then raise your hand and allow Dalton to pull you up to a sitting position.

“Bet you never thought one of your best friends in college would be pregnant.”

“I’ll admit, I never thought about it. But I’m glad we’re friends.”

Dalton stands and helps you up the rest of the way, opening the door as you promise to return in time for dinner.

As the door to the bathroom closes, you feel another sharp contraction. Your eyes widen when you realize what’s happening.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you click Dalton’s name on your favorites list.

“Hey, Baby Bump, did you fall in?” Dalton answers.

“My water just broke.”

You hear Dalton stand and start running. “I’ll be right there.”

“Sorry about dinner.” You exhale sharply as you experience another contraction. The phone beeps as Dalton hangs up.

“Did you seriously just apologize about dinner while you’re going into labor?” Dalton asks as he walks into the bathroom. You see his shoes outside the stall you’re in.

“Yeah.”

“We’ll talk about that later. Let’s get to the hospital.”

From the moment you walk out of the bathroom stall until your little girl is placed in your arms, Dalton’s hand doesn’t leave yours. He wipes your hair from your forehead and tells you every encouraging thing he can think of. Feeling closer to Dalton than ever, you nearly answer ‘Lambert’ when the nurse asks for your daughter’s last name. You decide not to tell Dalton about that, though.

When you finally force Dalton out of your apartment before Thanksgiving break, you promise to keep him updated. Dalton doesn’t tell his family exactly why he keeps checking his phone, but the smile on his face when you send a picture of you and your daughter tells everything they need to know. Even if Dalton doesn’t know yet.

✵Last December✵

“I missed you so much,” Dalton says as he hugs you. “You look amazing.”

“You were gone for a week, Dalton, I look exactly the same.”

“I got Bump some Christmas presents.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about Chris’s nicknames. Actually, really nervous to hear what she calls me now.”

“Oh, I know what she’s planning to call you and I’m getting in on it,” Dalton says with a smile.

“Wait, did you say Christmas presents? She’ll be less than six weeks old; she won’t remember it.”

“But you’ll remember her first Christmas, and you might need some of them.”

You nod and pull Dalton into another hug, whispering, “I missed you, too.”

The door opens, and a handful of gift bags enter before Chris yells, “Merry Christmas, Momma!”

“Oh, no,” you whisper, hiding your face in Dalton’s chest.

“Oh, yes,” he whispers in reply. “Momma.”

✵May✵

“I know something is going on between you two, Momma.”

“Chris, Dalton and I are just friends,” you insist, for the hundredth time.

“He acts like a dad to your kid, more importantly he acts like your husband, and you’re going to sit there and tell me you don’t want more?”

“We’re just friends.”

Chris’s smile grows, and you furrow your brows as you wonder what you said wrong.

“You didn’t answer the question. You want more, don’t you?”

You bite your lip and look over to your sleeping daughter.

Chris leans forward as she says, “Then do something about it.”

“Like what, Chris?” You stand and pace as you explain, “I can’t just tell a guy, who I’ve only been friends with for seven months, by the way, that I’ve fallen in love with him and can’t imagine my life without him. No one wants a girlfriend with a kid, besides It’s bad enough that he stayed by my side while I had a kid and buys her everything.”

“You said no one wants a girl with a kid then immediately said Dalton treats your daughter like his own.”

You wipe your hands down your face as you sit back down. “I can’t lose what we have. Dalton is an amazing guy, but it’s true that girls with kids are less desirable.”

“No, it’s not.”

You jump at the sound of a third voice, looking over to see Dalton standing in your kitchen.

“How long have you been there?” you ask quietly.

“I’m going to give you two some time,” Chris announces, sending Dalton an encouraging nod as she passes him.

Dalton waits for the door to close before he walks over to you, looking at your daughter before meeting your eyes.

“You are not undesirable because you have a kid. You are beautiful, brave, self-reliant, not to mention an amazing mother. Some guy will be very lucky to have you.”

“How much did you hear?” You repeat.

“Just that you think girls with kids are less desirable. Which isn’t true.”

“Really? That’s all you heard?’

“Yeah.” Dalton’s eyes soften as he kneels before you on the couch.

“What’s going on?”

“If I tell you something, and you don’t agree with me or feel differently, can we still be friends?”

Your daughter starts crying, and Dalton rubs his thumb across your cheekbone before standing and picking her up from her playpen. Dalton bounces your daughter and smiles at her until she starts laughing.

“Momma is nervous, but she doesn’t need to be, does she?” Dalton asks in a high voice. He shakes his head dramatically, drawing a laugh from you and your daughter.

Hearing your laugh, Dalton looks over and sees you smiling. He sits beside you, holding your daughter in his lap.

“I’m in love with you. I have been since after that Halloween party, and I just keep falling more in love with you,” you admit, playing with your fingers.

Dalton’s smile grows slowly, and he stands up, spinning with your daughter. “Did you hear that? Momma loves me too! Yeah, she said it! The big l-word, can you believe that?”

You smile as you stand and walk to Dalton’s side. He tucks you under one arm, kissing your temple quickly. “In case my victory lap didn’t make it clear, I love you too.”

“Even though I have a kid?”

“Are you kidding? I love her too. Professor Armagan is convinced she’s my kid anyway.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I drew a picture of her and no matter how many times I try to explain the situation, she swears that it’s my kid.”

“I think she is, too. Maybe not by blood, but you’re the only father she’ll ever know, Dalton. She loves you; no one else gets her to laugh like that.”

“She cried when I walked in,” Dalton states with narrowed eyes.

“To get your attention, Dalton.”

Dalton gasps and looks over to her. “Really? You did all that just for me? Now I’m going to have to spend more time with Momma though.” He lowers his ear like she’s responding, nodding and shrugging to his imagined conversation. “Of course, I’ll still visit you. But I may have to kiss Momma when I come in or take her on a date. I promise we will still be best friends though.”

“I love you,” you whisper, looking into Dalton’s eyes.

Dalton removes his arm from your shoulders and holds up one finger. He sets your daughter back in the playpen, placing her favorite toy beside her before returning to you. Dalton wraps his arms around your waist, and you raise your arms over his shoulders.

“I love you. More than you know,” Dalton whispers.

Dalton tips his head down and kisses you, laughing into the kiss as your daughter squeals happily in the background.

✵October✵

“You two should do a couple’s costume! It is your one-year anniversary,” Chris says as she drags you and Dalton into a costume shop.

“We didn’t start dating until May.”

“But you should have started in October, that’s my point.” Dalton rolls his eyes when you look over at him.

“Joker and Harley?” Chris suggests.

“I like to think I left the psychopath back in the Further,” Dalton deadpans.

“You could have said anything else. Both of you,” you state, shaking your head as you look at the costumes.

“What would you pick?” Chris asks.

“Farmers and a pumpkin,” Dalton answers.

“That was fast. Wait, pumpkin?”

Dalton looks over at Chris, waiting for her to realize the obvious. “Oh! Right. I forgot that you’d want to include her.”

Chris walks to the next aisle, and Dalton returns to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Find one?”

“I think she’d make a cute Grogu.” You turn in his grasp, smiling as you ask, “Do you still have the Iron Man costume?”

“I think so. Why?”

“Because it looked really good on you. We could do superheroes.” Something catches your eye over Dalton’s shoulders, and your smile widens. “Or we could be the Incredibles.”

When you look back at Dalton, he’s looking at you like no one else exists.

“Or we could get married.”

You pull away from Dalton slightly, looking into his eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Would you want to? This isn’t an official proposal.”

“Of course, I would, Dalton.”

“What’d we pick? Besides PDA?” Chris asks as she returns.

“The Incredibles,” Dalton answers quickly.

“I think Bump has something for you, Momma,” Dalton says as he opens the door to your apartment after dinner.

Lit candles sit on the windowsill, and Chris and your daughter are wearing dresses. You look at Dalton with teary eyes, wondering what’s going on. You kneel in front of your daughter, and she makes grabby hands at a black box on the table.

“Wing,” your daughter cheers.

Chris winks at you before picking up your daughter and carrying her into your bedroom.

As you stand and turn around, you see Dalton kneeling in front of you, the box open to reveal a beautiful engagement ring.

“I love you. I fell in love with you when I first saw you dressed up as a kangaroo, and I can’t live without you. You and your daughter are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I want to spend the rest of my life learning to be a husband and father with you by my side. Will you marry me?”

Tears slide down your face as you nod. “Yes, Dalton, yes!”

He stands, wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning you. You laugh as he slips the ring onto your finger, looking at it quickly before leaning up to kiss him.

“How would you feel about a Halloween wedding? For sentimental reasons,” Dalton suggests.

“Absolutely,” you agree.

Chris carries your daughter out, and she immediately reaches out to Dalton, squealing as he picks her up.

“Momma said yes!” He cheers, pretending to dance with her.

On Halloween, you and Dalton stand in a courthouse with outfits picked by Chris. Chris stands by your side, holding your daughter as you say your vows and marry Dalton Lambert.

As you exit the courthouse, you take your daughter from Chris and hug her close. Dalton silently asks for her, hugging her in the same way.

“You’re stuck with me now,” he whispers before looking at you, “and so are you.”

✵November✵

“Let’s go to my parent’s house for Thanksgiving. You can meet my family, and I know you didn’t get a real Thanksgiving last year,” Dalton suggests.

“I don’t know, Dalton. I mean, do they even know about everything that’s happened? About us?”

“My mom knows, and she really wants to meet you.”

Dalton wraps his arms around you, swaying you gently.

“Okay,” you respond with a nod. “Let’s do it.”

“I’m so nervous,” you tell Dalton as he pulls onto his parent’s street.

“Everything will be fine. They’ll love you; both of you.”

As Dalton parks in the driveway, he squeezes your hand and leans across the console to kiss you. As he pulls back, he sees his mom coming down the driveway.

“Here we go,” Dalton whispers before opening his door.

He hugs his mom quickly before coming around to open your door. After helping you out, Dalton says, “Hey, Bump, what are you doing here?” as he releases the car seat straps.

“Hi, sweetheart, I’m Renai. I’ve heard so much about you!” Renai introduces herself before pulling you into a hug.

“I’ve heard a lot about you too. I’m glad to finally meet you!” You respond before introducing yourself.

“And this is Bump,” Dalton says as he joins you.

“A pretty girl like this deserves a better nickname,” Renai says with a smile.

“Dalton!” Kali yells from the porch.

“I’m going to go become her favorite brother because I have a baby,” Dalton announces proudly before walking away.

Renai gestures for you to join her as she begins walking behind Dalton. “I can’t thank you enough for making Dalton so happy.”

“He’s made me happier than I thought possible.”

You hear someone say your name, phrased as a question, and look up to see Kali sitting with your daughter in the living room.

“Hi. You must be Kali, you’re Dalton’s favorite sister,” you tease before introducing yourself and sitting beside them.

“I’m his only sister,” Kali answers with a laugh. “Is she really my niece?”

“Yes, she is. Is that okay?”

“That’s awesome! Wait, so then you would be?”

“Your sister-in-law.”

“I finally have a sister!” she cheers before hugging you.

You make eye contact with Dalton over Kali’s head, smiling at him.

“Is that the wife?” Foster asks as he walks in.

“Yes,” Dalton answers before telling him your name.

“Cool. Nice to meet you,” Foster tells you before continuing toward the kitchen.

“He’s nice, just weird,” Kali tells you quietly.

“Dalton,” Josh calls as he walks in. He looks over at you, playing with Kali and your daughter. “A word?”

Dalton catches your nervous look and nods at you before following his dad outside.

“He doesn’t like me, does he?” You ask Renai as Kali continues playing with Bump, adopting Chris’s nickname.

“Josh has… trust problems and a lot of incorrect assumptions about single mothers. Give him a little time, and if he says something out of line, please don’t be afraid to put him in his place. As far as I know he means well, but sometimes he goes about things all wrong.” You nod, Josh’s voice becoming audible from outside.

“Would introducing myself make it worse?”

“Sweetheart, I honestly don’t know. I’ve known Josh a long time but even I don’t know what makes him so… Josh. But, feel free. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me to come yell at him.”

You thank her, then slowly approach the back door before stepping outside.

“Dalton, you can’t even tell me why she’s a single mom at her age!” Josh argues.

“I can’t tell you because it’s none of your business,” Dalton explains, with a level voice compared to his dad’s yelling.

“Hi,” you say, drawing their attention. “I know we haven’t actually met, and that you don’t trust me or like me because I have a kid and I was a single mom.” You introduce yourself and extend a hand, awkwardly waiting as he hesitates to shake it.

“My mom was a single mother, and she had so many problems,” Josh begins.

“Mr. Lambert, sorry to interrupt, but I’m not a single mom anymore. I understand your concern that I have a kid and what people could say about Dalton for being with me.”

“Oh, so because you have a boyfriend you aren’t a single mom? You’re already balancing a child and college, what could you possibly offer my son?”

“Happiness,” Renai says as she steps out. “Josh, let them explain before you start biting heads off and making this about you and your mom. I’m going to go finish cooking, and if I hear you yelling again we will be celebrating Thanksgiving without you.”

You lean closer to Dalton and whisper, “Your mom is awesome.”

He chuckles against you before nodding.

“Okay. Please, explain,” Josh tries again, crossing his arms.

You look over to Dalton and nod, allowing him to explain.

“We got married. Almost two months ago,” Dalton answers. “And the last fourteen months have been the happiest of my life. If you have a problem with me, or her, keep them to yourself, Dad. We aren’t here for your approval, we wanted to give you a chance to get to know your daughter-in-law, but if you want to waste that by being stubborn and letting your childhood trust issues get in the way, then that’s your loss. Because this is the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my life and that little girl in there is my daughter, blood or not.”

Josh drops his arms and nods slowly. “I’ll be honest, I won’t be able to accept this overnight, but if you’re both happy and your lives are going where you want them to, then it’s your decision.” He turns to you and apologizes for yelling.

“It’s okay, Mr. Lambert,” you promise. “I know that trust and respect have to be earned.”

“Call me Josh,” he offers, a small olive branch.

“Food is ready!” Renai calls. “And Bump seems to think her last name is Lambert.”

“Maybe it should be,” you whisper to Dalton as you walk inside.

His eyes widen, and he stops walking before rushing to catch up and ask, “What does that mean? Bump Lambert does have a nice ring to it!”

[rainycat2]

Though I Could Not Stop For Death / Death Kindly Stopped For Me

Chapter Two: Glimpses and Insights

The good thing about being one of the lead-- and only if he was honest with himself-- researchers on the effects of ectoplasmic energy and radiation on the human realm was that the United States government was willing to bypass certain things in order to keep the Fenton’s continued cooperation and research firmly under their sponsorship. For instance, the favor they’d called in to help set up an identity and fast-track an adoption for the boy they’d found in the alley.

Upon discovering the boy, they had taken him in, patched him up, and put him up for the night in their guest room, immediately contacting CPS to inform them of what they’d found. The poor boy had a scar in the center of his chest, inches below his heart, with bruised skin surrounding the area. That wasn’t the only scar he carried, but the most immediate one-- it looked like it had only barely healed over, tissue still angry and red. The agency had instructed them to take him to the hospital first thing, where they found out the boy… effectively did not exist.

He wasn’t listed in any databases. No fingerprints, no registration of his birth, no known parents in the system. For all they could tell, he’d never even been in a hospital.

He also made it difficult as all hell to get any information. When he first spoke, he only spoke in Arabic, and the hospital had to bring in a translator. His name was Danyal, he had no last name, and did not know where he was or how he’d gotten there. When the nurse attempted to draw his blood, he’d almost bit her before the translator explained. Even then, it took a demonstration and explanation to prove that it would not be detrimental to him before he allowed it.

Jasmine, though… well. She’d taken one look at the boy in the alley and claimed him as her own. At ten years old, she’d plopped herself down on Danyal’s hospital bed, damn the consequences, and started chattering away, talking about anything and everything-- what she’d learned in school, her friend James who’d dyed his hair recently, the new family who’d moved in a few weeks back. And surprisingly, Danyal listened. Attentively. He’d slowly begun asking halting questions back, his voice hardly above a whisper, but in fluent English.

Jack shook his head, signing his signature on another piece of paperwork before flipping the page. As they had been first contact, and the boy had nowhere else to go after a test discovered the low level of ectoplasmic radiation clinging to him… The Fentons were approved for an emergency fostering situation after passing their inspections. Who else was equipped to keep an eye on his radiation levels? That was part of the whole reason the Fentons had set up shop in Amity Park, Illinois. Their social worker, however, had been very insistent that Danyal not have anything to do with their research other than monitoring his ectoplasmic levels, and the Fentons had readily agreed. They still had to take a course on trauma-informed care for parenting-- Danyal had been through so much, the extent of which they likely would never know. Their caseworker, a kind woman named Katherine, had explained that while Danyal knew English and could speak it fluently, they suspected it to be his second language. It would take time and lots of trust before he would open up and relax around them.

But… in the brief few weeks they’d spent together, Danyal had already captured his way into their hearts. Jazz nicknamed him Danny after they’d spent an afternoon trying to pronounce his name. She’d almost had it, from what Jack gathered, but she was missing the lilt to the end of the name that just. Could not be fixed. Despite hours of trying. So, Danny had eventually given up and given in to the nickname.

Jack rubbed his eyes, set his pen down as he got up from the desk. It was about time when the kids would be going to bed, and so he started the nightly routine that had recently expanded-- visit Jazz’s room first on the second floor, as it was closer to the stairwell, tuck her in and tell her good night as he turned down the lights. She liked to stay up reading with a light under her covers, so in about an hour, Mads would come by and do the same, telling her to go to sleep for real this time.

This time, however… Jazz’s bed was empty. Jack blinked in confusion, then glanced down the hall.

---

“Maddie, oh my God, you need to come look at this,” her husband whispered urgently from the stairs. Maddie looked up, one eyebrow raising as she marked her page with a bookmark and set the textbook aside.

“What is it?”

“Just-- come up here-- quiet, I don’t want to wake them up.”

She blinked, then smiled softly as she crept up the stairs, sneaking down the hallway to the open door of Danny’s room. The overhead light was off, but the lamp was still on, giving them a perfect view.

Danny was curled up in a little ball, snuggled right up into Jazz, her arms around him, one resting on a book on their legs. The light played with the shadows on their faces, the relaxed expressions showing their ages of eight and ten.

Maddie couldn’t help the squeal she muffled with her hand.

In her defense? It was adorable.

Though she did immediately regret it as Danny’s eyes snapped open, bright blue focusing on them both. She froze, lowering her hands from her mouth to show her soft smile, knowing that Jack was almost certainly smiling as well.

And somehow… that seemed to be enough for him. A few owlish blinks before the corner of his lips turned up, just a little, before he snuggled back into Jazz and closed his eyes.

Oh, how Maddie wished she had a camera.

---

Over time, the collection of photos lining the walls of the Fenton house grew. Danny’s first day of school, once his therapist had said he was adjusted enough to go, and that it would be beneficial to his development. The first time they’d gone out together as a family. The first summer fair. Danny and Madeline training together, after they’d realized the other had self-defense training.

Danny was ten, now. Acclimating to his new life had been… weird. It was weird being away from the League, not knowing… everything about how he’d gotten here.

He remembered dying. That was hard to forget, honestly-- letting himself falter, letting Damian survive at his own expense. Mother’s cries as he faded, Damian sobbing and apologizing.

Damian.

His thoughts often wondered to his little brother (by two minutes, Damian liked to protest), worried about how he had grown. If he had grown at all. They weren’t the first Heirs to the Demon Head, after all. Simply the ones who were the most useful. Their father had been a prospective Heir, but turned Grandfather down.

Danyal wondered how he had managed to get away alive after that. Ra’s didn’t take “no” for an answer very well.

A tap on his knee, and Danny looked up at unfamiliar violet eyes, way too close to his space. His shoulders tensed as he leaned back, furrowing his eyebrows. “Can I… help you?”

The girl, probably his age give or take a year, had plopped herself down at the picnic table in the elementary school playground and had taken to watching him. “You’re different,” she proclaimed after a moment’s consideration. “You’re not like Paulina or the others. What’s your name?”

“Danny,” he answered. “Why? And what do you mean, I’m different?”

“I don’t know.” The girl sighed sharply, looking at the other kids playing around. Even from here, on one of his first days, Danny could just tell the cliques being formed. They’d be going into middle school, soon, but, well. People had their groups of friends, and Danyal was content being the observer on the sidelines, gathering information. That was what he was best at, watching and observing, collecting intel for missions.

“Well, that’s not an answer.” He shrugged and looked back at the homework on the table in front of him, idly writing in some of the answers. Multiplying fractions by whole numbers, honestly. Boring.

“It’s the answer I have. Anyway, my name’s Sam,” she continued. “You’re new, aren’t you? The new Fenton kid that got adopted, right? My mom was talking about you, I think, to Paulina’s dad. It’s nice that they adopted you.”

He had to hold back the urge to roll his eyes. “Sam isn’t a proper name.”

“Neither is Danny,” she shot back.

Alright, he had to give her that. A smile tugged at the edge of his mouth as he set his pencil down, shifting to look at her. “Okay, that’s fair. Yes, the Fentons adopted me two years ago. Yes, I’m new, I had a lot to work through before I could attend school. Do you have any other questions?”

Sam blinked, confusion flitting across her face at the businesslike tone he took. “Oh, um… Do you wanna be friends?”

“Friends?”

“Yeah, like. We can have playdates and do homework and stuff. Mom keeps telling me I need to make more friends, and Paulina’s been getting weird lately, so… Friends!”

“...I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. Jasmine is encouraging me to have friends as well.” He held his hand out for her to shake.

---

Danny was growing up pretty well, if Jazz said so herself. Oh sure, their family was absolutely insane even at the best of times. Sure, she was a sophomore in high school now, but… seeing how much work Danny’s social worker and therapists had done, how much they’d accomplished together, it made her want to help kids like they’d helped her brother.

She spotted the moment he realized she was watching him, his shoulders tensing almost imperceptibly until he met her gaze. Play it off, she’s not staring, not at all. Jazz got up, moving over to the kitchen table where Danny had previously been staring at the page in some… form of disgust mixed with annoyance.

“Hello, little brother,” Jazz giggled, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. “Should I offer to help you with your homework, considering you look like you want to set it on fire?”

“Jazz, this paper is literally going to kill me,” he groaned as he rubbed his face, pencil clattering onto the paper. “It’s just-- it’s so boring! I understand why we should learn how to predict events and how to prepare for them, but I learned how to do that before I learned to talk.”

“You should take that test to go into a higher grade,” Jazz encouraged. “I did it! And really, it’s so much more interesting. I get to take astronomy classes, I know you want to work for NASA when we’re grownups.”

“I know, I know,” Danny hummed. “But my therapist says it would be ‘detrimental to my development as a growing teenage boy coming from my background’,” he drawled, his voice completely monotone, drawing a laugh out of his big sister. “They act like I’m a feral kid, honestly.”

“You tried to bite your nurses when we first took you to the hospital. And the nurses when you got your vaccines. And your fifth grade teacher--”

“Okay, okay! Maybe I was a little feral,” Danny gave in.

---

He really hasn’t changed, has he? Jazz thought to herself from her perch on the top of a building, watching her little brother go apeshit on Skulker. Danny was fifteen now, and…

Her little brother was a superhero. Well, Danny liked to deflect, call himself a ‘vigilante at best’, but… well. They knew better, really. He’d done some awesome things, and she meant that in the Biblical sense of “awesome”-- truly awe-inspiring things that, if it were anyone else… well, they’d probably be a little concerned. Danny, though?

Danny was probably one of the genuinely kindest people she ever knew. Apparently, after his big defeat of Pariah Dark, Clockwork had taken him aside and talked about what that really meant, to defeat the High King of Ghosts in one-to-one combat. The Infinite Realms worked on a hierarchy of power, after all.

Which meant that on top of his duties as a vigilante superhero, and having just finished his sophomore year, Danny was also being tagged in for High Prince of Ghosts duties. Which, apparently, included acting as a psychopomp in some situations, albeit with quite a bit more ass-kicking.

As she watched Danny give Skulker one hell of a roundhouse kick, it felt like… her perspective of reality blurred. One minute they were in the sky, the next, Danny was floating in front of her with a paper in hand, Skulker nowhere to be seen. So really, you could hardly hold her responsible for the sharp jump and yelp, reaching out to sock him in the shoulder. “Danny! Don’t do that, I thought you were fighting-!”

Danny let his shoulder go intangible with a laugh, patting her on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Jazz. It… we need to have a talk with the rest of the gang, hold on a sec.” He tapped the communicator in his ear. “Phantom to team, come in team.”

“Here, as always,” Tucker’s voice buzzed, followed quickly by Sam’s agreement.

“Cutting patrol short tonight, guys,” he hummed, wrapping his arm around Jazz’s waist as they took off into the air. “Let’s meet back up at my place and talk-- seems we’ve got a letter from good ol’ Clocky.”

“Oh, Ancients,” Sam sighed. “Can we not get one normal summer?”

“Redundant question, sorry, Danny,” Tucker apologized.

“Don’t worry about it, guys-- let’s just get back and talk.”

---

“I’m sorry, he wants you to do what?!” Sam whisper-yelled, a throw pillow clutched tightly against her chest. “Danny, you’ve got to be joking. You can’t just… you can’t just tell your parents. I mean, what are they going to think?”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, he’s the Master of All Time. If he says that this is probably the best time to tell them, because I’m needed for Prince of the Realms stuff this summer, then that’s probably in my best interest to listen to him,” he argued, tucking a knee to his chest. “Just… look, I just need you guys to be there with me when I tell them. It’s not like I can just burst out of the gate with it.”

“And, y’know, Mom and Dad have gotten a lot better, lately,” Jazz mused. “They’re really focusing on the science of what they’re doing instead of just… building weapons for ghost hunting. I think they took my lecture on being researchers to heart.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “You screamed at them for a solid hour.”

“It was a lecture!”

“Not to be the voice of reason here or anything,” Tucker cut in, “but… I have to agree with Danny, Sam. Clockwork hasn’t guided us wrong yet, and technically, Danny’s his boss now, so I don’t think he wants to see him go power-crazy. Especially not after all that crap last time.”

Danny winced. “Really, just. Salt in that wound, huh?”

“Sorry man. But seriously, we just… sit them down and break out the powerpoint we made. We can all take turns explaining it,” Tucker reasoned. “And besides, where he goes, we go anyway.”

Sam huffed. “Fine. But I’m keeping my armor on standby.”

Danny grinned. “Thanks, guys. Now, we should plan for it this weekend, so we can start planning the summer trip…”

----

All things considered? Telling the Fentons was… a whole lot less screaming and accusations than Danny halfway expected. They took the information calmly, watching the presentation the teenagers gave-- and really, it was a damn good presentation. They’d gotten scans from Frostbite about Danny’s biology, his DNA, and how his long-term exposure to ectoplasmic radiation had protected him from straight up dying in the portal accident. How the Realms had saved him as much as it killed him. How he’d spent so much goddamn time, blood sweat and tears keeping the city, the world safe from their own little brand of cosmic horrors.

How they’d learned that fighting was how ghosts socialized, so they set up ways to keep it from being destructive on Danny’s grades and the town itself.

Their parents were… shocked, to say the least. But at their hearts, they were scientists. Scientists that had been fed lies and bigotry about ghosts in a field where they didn’t have the ability, for so long, to prove that bigotry wrong-- and when they did finally have the ability, their want to be proven wrong had long since disappeared. How their bias had been drilled into them by their professors, by their professors, by everyone in the field.

They needed time to reassess. To work through their biases, to… to try to apologize, in some way.

Danny said they didn’t need to apologize.

They insisted.

---

His mission, of course, was hardly put in clear terms. Danny thought that Clockwork just liked to fuck with him, at this point, as his Guardian. He had the right to, or whatever. Regardless, the young ghost just had to stare as Clockwork explained.

“Let me get this straight. You want me to go to Gotham, a place that is notoriously full of crime, murder, and 100% has a supernatural presence, because the City Ghost has said that she’ll make your afterlife miserable if I don't deal with their furry problem?” he said incredulously.

“I hardly said that, Danyal,” Clockwork hummed. “What I said is that Lady Gotham, one of the older City Ghosts on this side of the world, has requested your assistance with your connections to both the living and Infinite realms in regards to a problem with one of her Protectors.”

“...So, the Bats,” Danny grumbled. “Hooray, that’s definitely what I wanted to do this summer. Go into the city that notably hates metas.”

“I hardly think that they will take umbrage with your presence,” Clockwork chuckled, patting his charge’s shoulder. “After all, your father lives in Gotham, does he not?”

Danny rubbed at his face as they floated to the couches that had appeared, the Long Now sensing the wants and needs of its owner. “I guess. That’s kind of… part of the problem, you know? I don’t want to go and see him, and then have to pretend that we’re… I mean, I know he’s my Father. I do. But.. I have enough problems without having to deal with the whole-ass Justice League on my ass, you know?”

“I believe you have less problems than you believe you do,” Clockwork hummed.

Danny narrowed his eyes. “Are you… going to give me a better answer than that?”

“No.”

“Enigmatic bastard.”

“If either of us is a bastard, young Prince, it would be you.”

“You cheeky-!”

TAGLIST: @mynameisnotlaura @fisticuffsatapplebees @screamingtofillthevoid @lizisipancardo @digitizedworld @dahliasandrosemary

NEXT CHAPTER: ==>

[naavispider]

So you have any thoughts on Spider's past foster families and his time at the care home?

Time at the carehome:

hectic and chaotic, always other kids running about

spider is an amazing friend/mentor to all of the younger ones, and is mates with a couple of the ones his own age

he doesn't get into the wrong crowd, removing himself from the group of older teenagers who get into shady shit. but sometimes he lets them use his window to sneak in and out at night.

the adults at the care home are all well meaning and genuinely kind people, but of course due to circumstance none of them are able to give Spider (and the other kids) what they need

Time in foster placements: (tw mentions of DV)

one family only took him for the money. they were the worst home he went to because they'd almost completely ignore him, not checking in on him and uncaring if he even went to school or not. never physically/verbally abusive, but certainly neglectful.

one family had a few domestic violence issues (it was an emergency placement when Spider had to be moved due to concerns that his father had found him) and Spider spent the night hearing a woman get beat up.

one place he went to was amazing. It was a little old lady who lived by herself and a couple of cats, and she took pride in fostering kids (she only took one at a time so she could devote everything she had to them). She was quite poor though, so the money from CPS only went so far and literally only covered the basics. What she didn't have financially she made up for with care. Spider loved that lady and never forgot her.

those are some of the most memorable, but there have been so many that he's lost count and forgotten about some completely. It all made him an extremely good judge of character but also extremely reserved when it came to trusting people he did like. Even in the the cat's in the cradle, we see Spider unable to trust the Sullys - he thinks they're going to send him away if he does a single thing wrong and doesn't give them the credit they deserve!

[the1northlanderprincess]

Yeah, there’s definitely a problem

I have been in the Sarah J Maas ‘fandom” for four years, and only recently did I realize that there is, indeed, issues with her writing. It comes after starting Throne of Glass for the first time. I’m not going to do a deep, deep dive of criticisms, but I will address some general things that I found wrong in TOG. 

Okay, let’s start with the numerous love interests Celaena/Aelin had. She had Sam, Dorian, Chaol, and Rowan, as well as other male characters who were either into her, or she into them. That’s, like, Mary Sue territory right there. Sam, Dorian, and Chaol should have been enough. Her relationship with Sam was the sweet, but tragic, first young love kind. Dorian could have been the attractive, fun flirtation type. And Chaol...poor Chaol. Chaolaena should have been endgame. Their relationship was solidly built like many endgamers. They had their issues, for sure (get to that in a second). This is likely going to be controversial, but the whole Nehemiah thing was blown way out of proportion. I understand that Nehemiah was her truest friend, but the lengths of resentment and antagonism there were unnecessary. Chaol was captain of the guard. He was not obligated to tell Celaena certain things. She shouldn’t hold that against him, or anyone, in that position, regardless if she’s in a relationship with him. And, when it was revealed that Nehemiah arranged everything, Celaena’s feelings should have lessened greatly.

Then there is Chaol’s hang-up with Celaena’s magic. Herein lies some of the inconsistencies. When she goes through that portal, it is described that Chaol was exhibiting both horror and awe. Awe, to me, does not seem like a negative reaction. Soon after, he tells her that he doesn’t care that she is an assassin or a Fae. It seems believable at that time. Is it possible that he was just saying that, or trying to convince himself? Sure, but it’s apparent he still loves her, and tells her as much. Maybe he was willing to try, to accept it. However, he does a 360, at times, during HoF. The characterizations in that book go back and forth. Drives me nuts. Don’t get me started on QoS. I’m only going to say it once: Chaol knew who Celaena was, and it should not have scandalized him by how violent she could be. And most of the time, he still cared for her no matter what. 

It doesn’t take a genius to say that Chaol and Celaena have issues. He grew thinking magic was a bad thing, and that was only heightened when he became captain of the guard for an evil king. Also, being captain, he was against lawlessness, which she had represented. Celaena, on the other hand, had deep, deep trauma. So much so, she kept it hidden for a long time without talking about it. Super unhealthy. I might go so far as saying she has DID, or in the very least, PTSD. It didn’t help that Arobynn basically encouraged it, not to mention that in-book things happened to push her down further, triggering her. Had she been raised in a different foster home, it’s possible she could have dealt with those situations in more healthy ways. And, honestly, Chaol should have understood that the way Celaena turned out to be was not entirely her fault. She was, in fact, groomed by Arobynn.

Like I iterated earlier, Chaolaena has all the qualities of an endgame, more specifically, my OTP of book OTPs, Romitri. There is a headstrong, fiery young woman who must train with an older, respected mentor who gets rather annoyed by her antics. Slowly but surely, they come to respect one another and build a kind of camaraderie, and a strong bond. And they’re both stubborn, passionate people, with him being such a stickler for obedience to his occupation, it gets in the way of his own happiness. But eventually they overcome it, and enter into an all-consuming relationship, where they’re both willing to sacrifice everything for one another. Of course, there must be a conflict that will test the strength of their relationship. The conflict for Chaolaena comes relatively sooner than I would have liked. 

If there had to be separation between these two, a book’s length would have been okay. They could have spent some time apart, working through their own crap. Then when their paths would inevitably cross again, things would obviously be a little intense. They could rip into each other to their heart’s content, until they get tired of fighting. Let it rest, cool tempers and whatnot. Maybe there is a bit more truth-telling, but with better level-headedness. That could ultimately lead into a makeout session, realizing that if they truly love each other (which they totally did), they can come to an understanding/compromise; can get through any problem. The going at one another did start right away in QoS, but then it went to heck. It was all right there for the taking. But noooo.

You know, if SJM really wanted Celaena to have a special relationship with Rowan, she could left it at carranam. Someone like no other who can handle her magic, but yet he knows his place before a queen; she is free to boss him around, and not have him question her. Perhaps he could be her capta of the guard. Or, she could have simply sworn him to the blood oath. If she had such strong ties to her cousin, why couldn’t Aedion be carranam? It’d make a lot more sense and would be more special. And the mating bond thing? The proof was there from the beginning that Chaolena was IT, and was formed. Why can’t have there been a bond between one normal person and a magical being? Also, I’m so ticked that Chaolaena was boiled down to a “healing” relationship. Like, no, it was more than that, and you know it.

I have heard that because of ACOTAR’s burgeoning success and popularity, SJM changed the narrative of TOG. But I don’t necessarily buy that. I looked at the publishing date for QoS and ACOTAR. Both are 2015. I don’t think fan influence could have been gauged so quickly. The inconsistencies already started in HoF before nosediving in QoS.

Nevertheless, SJM really and truly done messed up. 

[meep--tm]

if it helps i would read your completely self indulgent oc fic i love other people oc's send it to me please show it to me rachel /ref

ANON... for you. this is the first section of the specific thing i was referring to. the only context i can give are that yabis and shoki are two tieflings me and my friend luca played in a dnd campaign years ago (shoki was luca's character, yabis was mine) and latched onto and turned into our own seperate OC thing with their own mini story

i wrote this a while ago now but i like them so much i dont even CARE

👍

Somewhere downstairs, a gnome has taken on the mantle as the evening’s entertainer, and the drunken crowds have fallen silent.

It’s a natural fact of travelling bard-dom that wherever you may go, there’s about one peer for every ten sets of ears; Yabis learned this years ago and has kind-of, a bit, almost, sometimes made peace with it. There’s no one way to perform, after all - some carry a lute or a lyre, some carry nothing, some carry it all (although that’s only those with the luxury of a caravan) - and Yabis likes to believe they’re more unique with their technique than others. To linger on their self-doubt in the face of their competition would just concede the match, and would only foster bitterness; Yabis has a great amount of respect for their fellow performers, no matter the form of their craft or how much of Yabis’s business they may steal. It would hardly do them any good to go about as if they were deserving of special treatment. For one, no one wants to befriend a stuck up bastard - a bard who doesn’t network is hardly any bard at all - and for two, Yabis was homeschooled. They’re already fighting an uphill battle.

This is all to say that Yabis has a natural inclination to rush to the defence of any stray bard they may meet on the road, as it only makes sense to. It’s a lot more effort to be mean than it is to be kind, and you never know when you may need a performance partner. The current problem is that this bard, the gnome downstairs, is butchering The Moon Has Left Us Lonely - one of Yabis’s favourites - with the carelessness of a child’s off-key rendition of happy birthday. He’s singing as if a hag has replaced the lining of his throat with tree bark. He’s playing the lute as if he woke up this morning with new hands and is still determining how one should move their fingers. It’s unbearable.

“Somebody,” Yabis croaks as they’re ascending the stairs to the first floor, “should say something.”

A couple steps above, Shoki stops, turns on one foot, and stares down at them. Her expression is flat. Yabis stares back.

“To the gnome,” Shoki says. It feels like it should be a question - it isn’t.

Yabis nods heavily, grip tightening on the bannister. This is the first time Shoki has made eye contact with them in hours. “Needs to be told.”

“Hm.” Briefly, Shoki glances past the stairs and through the doorway towards the small sliver of the main hall that’s visible, and presumably to the bored patrons taking sips from their frothing mugs of ale. It’s packed tonight. Getting a room upstairs had been a nightmare, and Shoki had been forced to sit at the bar during Yabis’s performance instead of her usual routine of hiding in a corner booth; the house is full of tired labourers in need of relief. The perfect audience. As it is now, nobody is so much as humming. “I think he probably knows.”

“But he’s still going,” Yabis insists, also looking behind them now. One of the men at one of the tables notices her and waves, cracking a smile, which makes Yabis feel even worse because they’re not even in the room and they’re still managing to steal the show from this poor luthier. They wave back anyway. “Bombing. Everybody hates it. He’s still playing.”

A chord is hit particularly violently, ringing throughout the air with a sickening twang, and that horrible voice drags itself lifelessly over a line that Yabis had always found to be notably meaningful, one about elders and their children and the tragedies inherent to existing as either. It’s such an offence to the ear that an entire table of disgruntled women with scars on their faces take final swigs from their cups before scraping their chairs back and making for the door. The whole thing is one of Yabis’s stress nightmares come to life.

When Yabis wrenches their eyes away, they find Shoki’s looking down at them again - differently this time. More of her black sclera is visible than normal, the white irises of them looking dimmer and yellowed under the tavern’s lamplight, even though her broad figure blocks most of it. Yabis is largely standing in her shadow right now, actually, which is a thought that they carefully avoid lingering on in the name of acting well-adjusted and normal.

Today’s events have been unusual for the two of them, and especially for Yabis. Shoki could be thinking anything about them right now. This is another thought that Yabis is carefully avoiding.

Recent developments aside, her single minded focus on Yabis is a lot. Yabis is no stranger to being studied like this, but it always feels strange coming from Shoki - maybe it’s knowing that she has more knowledge packed into her head than Yabis ever has or ever will, or maybe it’s the unfeeling mask that she sports the majority of the time, or maybe it’s the disarming sweetness Yabis feels from her at times like these. Shoki’s hard to read on a good day, and today has been far from a good day. 

It’s alright. Yabis thinks her stoic “I don’t care, ever, and I didn’t ask, please don’t talk to me,” thing is pretty cute, actually, most of the time. Like she’s a cat or something.

Instead of trying to decode the look, Yabis studies her right back. There are flecks of muddy, dried blood scattered throughout her hair, the days-old plait falling over her shoulder the way tree branches fall over a stone-brick wall in winter, all splintered and dry. She looks pale, being a shade of lilac as opposed to her usual purple, with a dark flush running over her cheeks and nose and ears through the combined efforts of the sharp winds outside and the well-fed hearth by the bar. A dark bruise is already turning a sickly yellow at the hinge of her jaw, and her breathing sounds vast, and she seems to be slightly favouring her left foot.

(Yabis knows they probably haven’t fared much better themself; the fight today had been tougher than they had prepared for, and they still feel the stinging of a fresh scar spanning across their thigh, even after all of the healing spells. There’s a dried trickle of blood running from one of their ears, hidden under their mass of hair; even here, holding onto the bannister, they feel themself swaying slightly in place. It’s a miracle they had the energy to entertain tonight, and even more of a miracle that Shoki waited for them downstairs instead of disappearing upstairs for a bath. They’re not sure if they would’ve done the same, were the situation reversed; a bath sounds really good right now.) 

As the mutual scrutiny continues, Shoki’s mouth twists uncomfortably, unsure of what it’s trying to express. She looks tired.

“We won’t be able to hear him by the time we’re up in our room,” Shoki says eventually, her tone measured but equally as inexplicable as her face. “If it matters that much to you. I also,” she says, and she looks away now, resuming her pilgrimage up the stairs, “have earplugs in my pack. Help yourself.”

Yabis smiles and follows close behind, taking two steps at a time, feeling like they’ve won something. That was probably the best response they could hope for right now - it repeats itself between their ears a few times, help yourself, help yourself, help yourself - and the slight relief is wonderful. They just about have the mental fortitude to resist pulling their hair over their face and chewing on it as they ascend to their room for the night, if only because they don’t want to end up spitting out mud.

[drhighhopess]

Deep Wounds

Ada Wong x Leon Kennedy (re2r)

Ada x Leon fanfic on ao3 (Throughout the fic there will be another ship momentarily)

Word count : 1.8k

Chapter : 1 / ?

Type : sfw

a/n : hello! this fic is a collab with one of my friends. After the 13th, you'd be able to find her ao3 user on the fiction itself. At the moment, her account is being accepted right now. Any recommendations or comments are always appreciated <3

“Every step I’ve left upon the track has led me here.”

In her song, I Want You to Love Me, Fiona Apple reflects on how her different actions and experiences have brought her to be in the current position she is in. She explains how she feels she was brought towards the person who she wants to love her back, but also understands that it is ultimately hopeless when it comes to anything long term or permanent. Apple compares this fleeting feeling of love to how fleeting the feeling of life and being alive is, and how quickly you go from thriving to simply rejoining the universe, becoming strangers with the sensation of life you once knew. The song tells a tragic story, but one that truly fascinates me, nonetheless.

“Life just isn’t fair”

Are the whispers you here at a funeral you were far to young to be attending. 6 ½ years old, your parents mercilessly slaughtered in front of you. Sole survivor. Your parents had moved to the United States for a fresh start, and quickly met their end.

“Oh, look at him, he’s handling it so well, poor thing.”

More whispers in a language you hardly understand. No one cares to come up to you, you’re not the dead one. You lived. And you definitely weren’t supposed too. Closed casket, bodies beyond repair. But you saw them. You witnessed all of it.

“Life isn’t fair.”

Is what the social worker opens with as she takes your hand in the overly-cheery colored room. You’ve just been told you’re an orphan, and will be put into the system. The family you live with is nothing like what you came from. No one at school will talk to you or look at you because of your story. You’re socially ostracized, and left at a loss of what to do. Your foster parents aren’t good, they skip your meals and have cruel punishments for little things. You want to reinvent yourself, become a new person.

“You will never amount to anything. Your parents’ sacrifice was in vain.”

They tell you, after your latest infraction. You slipped on the playground at school and twisted your ankle. You’ll need surgery of some kind and it will always bother you. Chronic pain. You get in trouble for the strangest things. The language barrier sets you apart at school. So, you strive to be the best. Have the best scores, learn the language and speak it without an accent. Maybe then you’ll have friends, and loving parents. At 8 years old you’re diagnosed with PTSD. You relive the traumatic night another time in your head, and right then and there make a promise to yourself. To help as many people as you can. In a man eat man world, everyone needs to have each other’s backs, right? You vow to be the one who people can rely on. And you swear to help take down those who hunt and hurt people, for no given reason.

…

The way fate and destiny work is something that has frustrated mankind through the ages. Why do our lives end up the way they do? Why doesn’t everything always make sense? Why isn’t life fair? Unfortunately there is no answer to his, other than a passive aggressive, yet infamous answer of ‘life isn’t fair.’ from the adult you’d just asked. They’d usually be leaning back in a wooden chair in the sorry little corner you called a home, smoking some sort of makeshift cigarette and gazing beyond you. Contemplating what their life could’ve been if you hadn’t been born, if they hadn’t made the mistake of getting involved in your sorry fucking excuse of a in a father’s life.

“I was beautiful. I was free.”

your mother says, looking at you with a kind of hate you’ve only ever seen from her. You’ve only ever known hurt. You dream of a life with a two parent household, stability, love. And the worst part about it is you know that it’s possible, because you see it happening to others. You look at the bruises on your knees and arms and vow at an early age to never have children of your own, knowing that the life that awaits you will only be hurting yourself and others. You were too young to be making these kinds of choices. You will never allow yourself to love another human being, to empathize or even think about them. In a man eat man world, the only person whose back you can watch is your own. You grow to hate your parents, your mother especially, for her weakness. Her vulnerability got her in this situation in the first place. If only she hadn’t been spineless, then you wouldn’t exist. It seems to be a better alternative than the depressing life you currently live.

SEPTEMBER 29th, 1998

“Ada, you look like your mother when you give me that look.” snapped Ada back to reality. Raindrops drooled down the plexiglass windows of the car she sat in, the leather seats leaving impressions on the bottoms of her thighs. She glanced up at the rear view mirror, some distant relative whose name she didn’t care enough to remember looked at her. They’d moved up in the world, their connections to dangerous people with good threats becoming highly useful to certain people in high places of authority and influence. Now she was working for a corrupt police leader of some sorts, gathering intel on a virus that had been in the works for years. She’d heard updates about it as she grew, the facts she knew now lining up with the rumors she knew in her teenage years. Her cold gaze could’ve cut the glass of the mirror, her almond shaped eyes accentuated with red makeup to add to her femme fatale persona.

“Don’t compare me to that spineless whore.” Ada snapped, shifting her gaze back to outside the tinted windows. She was sore from her rigorous training, her head was pounding with a migraine and quite frankly if she had gotten in a car crash in that moment she wouldn’t of minded. Just another day in her life.

“Have you been debriefed on your job and position?”

“I have, countless times.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

The dry conversation ended there. Ada was to collect intel on the virus and report back to A.W. ‘Ironic, same initials as her’, Ada thought to herself, licking the tip of finger as she thumbed through her mission outline. Bioweapons would be deployed, she could very possibly die, her arsenal would be half decent, overriders and a decent pistol and such. Ada was a dead shot. She’d make due with what she had. Her coverup was an FBI agent, a plastic bag with the fake I.D. was enclosed in the file. ‘Convincing, who’s never heard this before?’ She scoffed in her head.

Before every mission she went on, she had to prepare herself to die, and to kill. She felt little remorse for those she hurt, after she’d accepted her mantra of ‘you can only save yourself’ when she was 7. They were merely in her way. Any empathy she felt she immediately suppressed, and bottled. She was due for a psychotic break any day now. Deep down, she felt bad for everything she did. She was terrified for every new mission, and piece of her genuinely hoped she’d die on one simply to put her out of her misery. All she was doing was setting more people up for a shit life like hers. She was only 23. She should’ve been in college, or dating someone. But she got a fucked hand of cards in the shit game of life.

They pulled up to her drop off point, and she climbed out of the car and shut the door without a second thought. The car sped off, and Ada began her walk. She was wearing a tan trench coat, sheer black tights, and black heels with a red outsole. They matched the dress she had on underneath. She had belts of storage and weapons stored in the extensive pockets of her coat, which she’d put on if she had to get her hands dirty. Ada flipped through the file about three more times before she took what she needed and tossed it in a nearby trash can. She struck a match and dropped it in, striding away carelessly. She tucked her scarf in gently and continued to move, seeing her final destination in the distance. A few yards later, she reached it, and pushed the door open gently, as to not cause a disturbance and slip in unnoticed.

The room dimly lit, the smell of alcohol filling the whole place. Soft whispers, but loud ones as well. Some people came here for a nice drink or two, other faces more recognizable. Depends on who you asked, and some answers weren't so urgent to hear. Regardless, the woman in red found herself here, her eyes roamed around the space in front of her. There was a good while before she’d get to Raccoon. There was a policy put in place where agents, or more in Ada’s case spies had to get dropped off a certain amount of miles. Mainly to not bring suspicion, but knowing Umbrella whatever reason put in place was no one's business to question. The room already looked darker than needed by the coverage her glasses supplied. The woman made her way over to the bar, as each time one of her feet hit the hardwood floor a click would fill the room. Being drowned with the music flowing throughout. Taking a guess the heels would have to be at least 4 inches.

Such fitting attire for an FBI agent after all.

“I’ll like a whiskey, neat”

The woman's voice didn't indicate much, her charm was apparent no matter how you wanted to phrase it. There was one thing clear, she wasn’t here for anything else. Nothing more, but surely not less. Dressed in clothes that made it hard to tell the type of lady she was. Other than the sound of heels on the floor the bartender had nothing to go off of. Just turning around to give the alcoholic beverage. The woman's eyes looked around the space surrounding herself. Catching onto a few things like where the music was playing from. Making a mental note inside her head. Before her eyes moved back to the bartender, noticing how he poured the drink into the glass. Before picking up her glass. Taking small sips, the sound of the TV catching her attention. Usually she’d pay no attention. Ada had no reason to care, the woman had only one task at hand. But, this time it was different. Raccoon was completely fucked. In short terms she knew there wasn't a possibility she could finish the mission. They dropped her off too late, where she was at now there wouldn't be enough time to get to her extraction point within a timely manner.

Her thoughts roaming all over the place, as she knew this meant death. They’d have no choice but to kill her. Until, seeing a blonde man enter the building.

[josietvrner]

╰ ☆ ◞ cari fletcher / cis woman / she/her ——— no way is that JOSEPHINE “JOSIE” TURNER? you know they’re TWENTY EIGHT years old and they’ve been in los angeles for TEN YEARS. they’re chillin’ as a MUSICIAN at ECLIPSE ENTERTAINMENT and ARTIST. oh and they’re notoriously known for being EMOTIONAL but there are some people who have seen them be PASSIONATE. I heard they’re a part of a BAND called IMMY, yeah they’re a BASSIST. to be honest they sound a lot like BEABADOOBEE, REMI WOLF AND CAT AND CALMELL. they’re actually A RISING STAR.

trigger warnings found: child abandonment/neglect, addiction, death and overdose.

𝙱𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙲𝚂

FULL NAME:  Josephine Azalea Turner

NICKNAMES: Josie, Jo

BIRTHDATE: July 20, 1995

AGE: 28

ZODIAC: Cancer sun ☀️, Libra moon 🌙, Aries rising ⬆️

BIRTHPLACE: Providence, Rhode Island

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: homoromantic homosexual

GENDER & PRONOUNS: cis woman, she/her

OCCUPATION: bassist for IMMY's band, artist

𝙱𝙸𝙾𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝚈

Josephine was born on a sunny morning of July 1995 in Providence, Rhode Island. Her parents were freshly out of high school, and had a pretty complicated/toxic relationship. (tw addiction and child abandonment/neglect mention) They were also addicts, who usually neglected little Josie in favor of their vices. That was… until one night where they preferred them and decided it was best to leave their kid behind to start the hedonistic careless lifestyle they always dreamt of together. They drove down, then made a stop in New Haven, Connecticut to tell Josie to wait for them in a bench at a church downtown, to never be seen again. When Josie was found, she was too small to explain what had really happened. All she could babble was ‘mamma’ and ‘pappa’ as she looked around without luck. It was clear to locals that the poor child had been left for her luck there, so she was immediately placed into foster care. Josie moved around a lot in different foster homes, yet never found a family to call her own. All she's ever known is the fact that she's on her own. Growing up, Josie was a pretty quiet kid, she didn’t have many friends at school or at the foster care. She found solace in her drawings and the music blasting on her headphones. She always carried a little notebook around to sketch whenever inspiration hit her: that was her first real love, the arts. She loved to draw, paint, sketch, you name it... it was her escape. When turning 18, right after graduating high school, it was now time for Josie to leave foster care. She was now on a mission to survive out there in the real world. Deciding to do a full 180 and try new things and step out of her comfort zone, she moved to Los Angeles to start a new life in the west coast. While looking for a job in the city, she met an old lady kind enough to let her work at her house, and stay with her too. Her name was Alyssa Turner. It was in L.A that Josie broke out of her shell and for the first time in her life, connected with people with the same passion as her: art. These new artsy friends were the ones who allowed her to truly explore her other biggest love: music. They wanted to start a band and needed a bassist, so that's how Josie ended up learning. She fell in love with it so much that she eventually learned guitar and drums too. The band didn't last long, but it was the thing that made her discover she wanted to keep on doing music for the rest of her life. Josephine worked for, and lived with Mrs. Alyssa until she turned 21. Having saved enough to find a place of her own, and thinking that was the perfect age to begin her real independence. Mrs. Alyssa became the only family she’s even known (tw death mention) up until her passing in late 2021. It was thanks to her that Josie got her last name, never having one before. At 19 she legally changed her name to Josephine Azalea Turner. “Azalea” was the middle name Mrs. Alyssa picked for her. She was an avid nature fan who owned a big garden, and that was her favorite flower type. And Turner, of course, after the woman who sheltered and loved her unconditionally, never asking for anything in return. It was at 21 that she discovered she could actually make a living out of music too, which is when she started to take it all more seriously. First as a session musician, then a touring member... till her biggest opportunity to date came to her in 2020: joining IMMY's band as a bass player, it was a no brainer and that's what she's been primarly doing since, having found her new family there.

𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂

Josie never stopped making art, at this point she's established herself as a respected artist in the west coast, and of course her growing following after joining IMMY's band helped her gain exposure. She mainly paints and sometimes holds exhibitions in the city. You can definitely find her at Urban Artistry Studio often. She also works on IMMY's art for her socials, merch or artwork!!!

(tw overdose mention) She's unaware of this (yet), but her biological mother tragically passed away due to an overdose when Josie was only 5, causing her father to decide to get clean... he got married a few years later and Josie has two younger siblings (possible wc i end up sending to the main!)

She's a cancer so she feels... A Lot. She's constantly in her own lil world crafting new ideas for paintings or melodies for songs (she really values her alone time). Yet she can also be incredibly impulsive and easily get into trouble (that Aries rising sigh).

Too gay to function™ . Has a crush on every pretty girl she sees (can u blame her tho??). Also a hopeless romantic (oh, that Libra moon...), can't hook up with anyone without falling in love... I'm sorry, I don't make the rules.

A regular at PRISM club... has performed DJ sets there for the funsies.

Definitely an astrology girlie.

Went to community college to get a degree in visual arts.

Josie's never been about fame, she performs music because that's her passion... it's always overwhelming (in the best way) if she ever gets recognized down the street, and she really appreciates it every time!!

Umm yeah I named her Josie after the blink-182 song and Turner after Alex Turner u got me there!!!

I think those are the basics atm... I'll update if I can think of more!!

𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂

It'd be cool to have some of her og crew around when she first moved to L.A!

Fans of her art (either paintings or music), would be cute to be some sort of mentor to someone omg??

ART FRIENDS!! Someone she can gush about art and visit every museum/local exhibition with (her own tortured painters department)

A FWB (we all know she'd be secretly in love with them but shh), or a one night stand, bonus points if the other person is super shy about it and it's extremely awkward every time they run into each other lmao.

An ex girlfriend... pls gimme that heart heart-wrenching sapphic drama.

First love!!! Could be wholesome friends now, or lingering feelings.

A crush... can be one sided, bold of u to assume she only ever crushes on (1) person???

EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING!!! I promise I'll excitedly yell about it with you ♡

[ga-yuu]

Hello! If it's not much to ask can you elaborate on Morinaga's arrogant side on your previous ask. Cause I was surprised I mean in all that I've read in your translations he seems kind, friendly and is the typical big brother type.

Look Morinaga is an insanely lucky guy. You don't understand. He's that one in a million guy. This guy....if you throw a refrigerator at him from a top of a 100 floor building, it would just fall right next to him and break the ground. If there was an earthquake, he would probably be surviving with a minor injury. Heck! He's that one guy who would probably get ten 5 stars in one 10-pull in Genshin. That's the level of insane luck I'm talking about.

Morinaga knows that he's very lucky from the very day he was born. Due to that, he can always predict how things would go for him. In addition to the insane luck, Morinaga needs high amounts of adrenaline rush to keep going. That's why he goes to gambling houses to not only flex his luck but also feel the adrenaline rush when he makes big bets. Also Morinaga is loved by everyone and he knows that. But there is a problem. Despite being loved by everyone, Morinaga cannot keep a long term girlfriend. Why? Because all the girls he dated thinks that Morinaga loves to gamble and fight more than being with them. See, Morinaga is a person who you can't keep locked in a cage. This man is rebellious and adventurous and tries dangerous things to feel alive. So when you're a spouse of someone like that, you would have to constantly live with the fear of whether he would die from doing such acts or not.

In Sueharu's case, when Morinaga first found him, he thought Sueharu was cool and wanted to be friends with someone that is cool. He had good intentions. But one day he saw Sueharu stealing food. Stealing his bad according to Morinaga, but when you look at Sueharu who is trying to survive, one can't blame him. So Morinaga, tells his parents to take in Sueharu, not as a foster child, but as a servant so that at least Sueharu doesn't have to steal food and would have a roof over his head. His intentions were good, but to Sueharu, he felt like Morinaga was treating him lesser than, which hurt Sueharu's pride. Morinaga thought that if he help Sueharu in this way, he could live with Sueharu forever. He predicted that this would be the same as how everything goes according to what he wants. Nothing would go wrong. But to Morinaga's surprise, it didn't go as intended. So he started getting more interested in Sueharu because Sueharu doesn't want to be friends with him anymore. It's like that rich boy poor girl K-drama trope where the rich guy is the popular guy. All girls wants to be his girlfriend and all guys just wants to be his friends. The rich gets everything he wants with his money until he meets this peasant girl who ignores him, doesn't care that he's popular and also throws his money back at him because of her morals and the rich guy becomes frustrated as to why this girl in particular is not falling for him. So he becomes more interested in her. It's the same thing, but in this case, the rich guy is Morinaga and the peasant girl is Sueharu.

Same thing is seen in chapter 16, when Morinaga proposed to Yoshino. Morinaga before that was aware of Yoshino's feelings towards him but he didn't want to start another relationship similar to the ones he had before, only to end it in a short-term. He wasn't actually thinking of starting a relationship with Yoshino but when Kagetoki asked him to consider it, Morinaga doesn't say anything. Later he sees Yoshino talking to the soldiers who were resting and noticed that they were having a fun conversation and Yoshino was also smiling. Seeing her smile like that made Morinaga jealous and he immediately proposed to her the same night, because he knew that, if doesn't act fast, other men who are interested in Yoshino will surely take her away from him. Also Morinaga was confident that Yoshino would say yes, because he is already aware of her feelings. But to Morinaga's surprise, Yoshino rejected him. Ofc Morinaga was hurt, but he immediately took that rejection as a motivation to win her heart.

[multistoty]

@shadcwruuler​

“You are so confident," he says in a rushed breath punctuated by the honesty of the words. Ivory fingers beating gently against the flat top of the table. Maybe art was his weakness. Or star wars? God, he was hopeless. Playing the damsel in distress in his love life once again. He also never wanted to be the leering kind of guy that made him feel comfortable. This wasn’t a conversation he would completely obstruct. Men sharing their affection for eachother was something most people could get behind without living with people who could burn someone to ash with their freaking minds. It was more that it felt more searching and complimentary than the stated fact or pick me up you gave a friend. he could tell Rafe that he looked good without statring at lips."You're stubborn and resilient. So brave. So strong. So inhumanly beautiful. You could conquer the world.” Landon never did have a filter and he hoped that that wouldn’t bother Julian as they were being forced to live together and he didn’t think he could go up to Alaric and explaining this. What was he gonna say? ‘Hey, you remember that boy that you made me room with because we are both new kids? Well, he is the first boy I have ever wanted to kiss.’ Yeah, that wasn’t going to work particularly after he caught him and Hope at the motel. Not that he was even certain how he felt or how his girlfriend would think about it. “You find yourself attractive too?” The pheonix finally said as the other boy struggled with forming words that made sense. It was a joke that would hopefully ease this tension and give his brain and mouth time to sink up. He prayed to whatever God there was in thanks that this team was him, wade, hope, Jessalyn and [ now] Julian. Lizzie would have ended him. the entire situation made his nose scrunch up slightly as round eyes took in the man. He looked the way poetry sounded. The kind of man he would expect to be getting attention from most of the kids and super old vampires like roman. At least, Julian wasn’t perfect poise with his halo of blonde hair and elegant piano player fingers trapped in lengths of leather. It didn’t seem like something he should question upon first meeting. The curly headed foster kid had not had the cabilities Hope had in all senses including installing a goalie for his heart. Touch wasn’t usually his love language, but the intimate brush of hands against your face was a different sort of intimacy. Fabric obstruction or not. Maybe it was a trigger for him like small spaces were for the kirby boy. there was something crazy about meeting someone who sees the good in you at levels much higher than you thought possible. He was too poor to afford the luxury of hysteria right now.

These letters are all he has left. 26 friends to tell his stories to.26 letters are all he needed. Landon can stitch them together to create oceans and ecosystems. He can fit them together to form planets and solar systems. He can use letters to construct skyscrapers and metropolitan cities populated by people, places, things, and ideas that are more real to me than these 4 walls. He needed nothing but letters to live. Without them he would not exist. And they had completely failed him here. They were numb with novocaine and bitter sweet like a smile pulling at chapped lips. He was to poor to afford the luxury of hysteria right now. In this lack of thought, they were synomyms. He and Hope hadn’t had this conversation. not that he cared. There was always an odd line with her and Jess that he would let her come to him to figure out. Cheating was betraying. And that wasn’t betrayal particularly in the newness of a relationship without the time to discuss boundaries about for monsters lurked at every corner and every turn. Still, the fact that Julian had taken the time to draw him showed a clear investiment and time for his sake. he’d also heard him talk about Star Wars and knew what he needed after his sentient mud father had tried to capture him and ivercerate his girlfriend. Such odd things for two frayed fabrics to feel solid when placed against one another. wait- “Your aura thing doesn’t mean that you can like read minds right? You know- bro. Jessalyn can handle herself and I know has dated more than one person before. I’d say talk to her but- Not saying anything. You don’t strike me as that type of person. I hadn’t even kissed a girl before Hope. Though expect a dressing down from the tribrid if you are taking her best friend out. They are ‘twin flames’.”

[thefanboyhub]

So. There is a man in my life, we are not a couple yet because I promised my best friend that I would wait a month before officially deciding, so basically we're in a makeshift dating phase despite not being able to go on dates because it's a ✨long distance✨ situation.

I love him. It's only been two weeks and I'm already dedicated to work this out. Stick through this no matter what. He has given the same energy back, I've never experienced someone like him. The craziest part is the fact he can handle me.

He can handle the sudden and aggressive mood swings, my jumps from quiet to willnotshutthefuckup. He can handle me when I overthink, providing me the reassurance without me even asking for it. Everyday since day one has repeatedly reminded me that he cares and loves me. He talks to me about how he feels about things, not letting things build up or make things into fights. Always makes sure I'm comfortable with what's going on, telling me to take this at my pace.

We grew up very differently. He was raised Christian and still follows the religion, but he's the good kind of Christian. He doesn't use his religion as a personality trait or even try to convert people or shove it down peoples throats, he actually welcomes breakdowns of it and is open to debates about it. Hell, even one time we talked about God could be a Cthulhu like God. He was raise, and is, mixed. His grandpa, who's also his father figure, is a black man. He was extremely close with his great grandma, who sadly passed away a bit ago. She was an amazing woman, the only family member that knew he was bisexual and accepted him. She made a church just like that, which I'm planning to visit on Sundays with him to honor her and show myself support for his religion. He went through quite a bit of trauma, mostly from bullying because of his poor speech skill when he was younger. He is sweet, kind, protective, and understanding.

I was raised in pure hell. I was abused in several ways for most of my life, starting from when I was 7 to now. It was always by the people who were supposed to protect me. I was bullied, harassed, abused, and angry all my life. I've lived different statuses of life, being almost on the street poor, wealthy, living in rundown barely functional homes, living in massive clean homes, sharing rooms, having my own room. We had to move all the time when I was younger. I had to be put into foster care, abused physically there. Got out of it and was abused mentally. I lack social skills, I lack emotional regulation, and sadly don't fully understand what consent means and how it works. I've been assaulted, bullied, and abused. Over and over again. I am chaotic, scared, confused, and trying.

When he talks to me, he doesn't see a broken mess or a failure. No, he sees someone beautiful. He sees someone he loves, someone he wants nothing more than to protect and marry. He tells me all the time how grateful he is to have me and how much a he adores me. Usually, either I or the little self conscious voice in my head don't believe that stuff. I have always expected things to end at some point, when I talk about a future with any partner I've had I would always use "if" and "if we're still together". I always knew that they wouldn't stay, that I'm too much for them.

But with this one? The voice isn't there. Anytime he says he loves me I fully believe it. I don't understand why but I do believe it. When we talk about our future, there is no if. It's "When we have kids" or "when we get married" and "oh when we live together".

He is my home. When my emotions are too much to handle, he uses his voice to be my clarity and my guide. When I'm struggling to speak he tells me to take my time. When I get upset or lonely, he calls. When I feel unworthy or as if I have failed at anything, he reassures me. He is my everything.

I am not a good person. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a bad one either. But I'm not good. I know I have issues and problems that will cause this relationship to hurt at some point, but I'm not letting that happen. I'm going to push myself, make myself uncomfortable for the sake of improvement. I love him, and in loving him I'm learning to heal. It's terrifying, it's really really hard, and I have to do it basically all by myself, but it's worth it. It's worth it if it means I can provide a healthy relationship for him, it's worth it if it means I can heal and live.

He is my home. He is my Northstar. He is my clarify and calm. He is my best friend.

I love him.

[gaykarstaagforever]

Part 2 of this post:

I knew what The Conners, Grey's Anatomy, The Rookie, The Goldbergs, and The Good Doctor were.

I was basically spot-on on Abbot Elementary, though I guess it is slightly less light-hearted than I thought.

Station 19 I nailed exactly.

Home Economics isn't my fun idea for a sitcom about Delta Burke from 30 years ago teaching teenagers how to balance their checkbooks, it is a drama about three siblings who are rich, middle class, and poor, and how that something something. Good on it. I will never watch it but it sounds like an interesting premise, at least. Or not, if it was cancelled.

(I guess a lot of these cancelations were due to writers' / actors' strike shenanigans, and not ratings or perceived show quality? I have no idea how the hell any network does math in the Year of Our Lord 2023, where like maybe 15,000 poor people watch your free sexy policeman show, but Toyota still pays $20 million a year to Disney to show loud ads for expensive mini-SUVs during it. Also sometimes a show gets cancelled because some network executive doesn't like it, and I don't understand how that is a thing you can still do to unionized people, on the basis of nothing. But here we are.)

The Rookie: Feds I had half-right. It is The Rookie, but instead of Nathan Fillion, it is Niecy Nash. Or was.

Not Dead Yet, I got in spirit. Instead of Zombie My Name is Earl, it is a obituary writer lady who solves problems with the help of the ghosts of the people she is writing obits about.

Will Trent is indeed based on an early-2000s book series. But it isn't a spy thriller, it is a detective who was a foster kid who now helps foster kids. It was renewed because people who like those kinds of shows never ever stop liking them.

Big Sky isn't a cowboy show. Though my commentary about how cowboy shows are exhausting still applies to those cowboy shows. Big Sky was about detectives in Montana trying to solve missing indigenous women crimes. It was cancelled because we want that sort of light-hearted content via true crime podcasts and YouTube channels, of which there are 8.5 million to choose from.

The Company You Keep, I was dead-wrong about. It isn't a dramedy about a POC-owned bakery, it is a thriller about a con man dating an FBI agent, "adapted from" (stolen from) a popular K-drama. It was cancelled. Go watch the original. Good idea in general, really.

Alaska Daily I basically nailed. I can't remember if my version was in any way meaningfully different from the actual show. It got cancelled so who cares?

I was right about A Million Little Pieces, except it is a cast of 12 friends and their families instead of 16 members of the same extended family. I even guessed the number of seasons correctly, 5.

So my point is, network TV is stupid and I am smart about how stupid it is.

I was going to do CBS next, but it is literally all cop shows and I'm bored just thinking about it.

[causewhywouldnti]

My thoughts as I’m watching 24 seasons of law & order svu:

Season 15

15x01/02, Munch and Amaro in the beginning are the only good things this episode. Okay, so, from the Fanfics I expected this episode to be much more graphic. Not that I mind not seeing Benson be tortured. But maybe there’ll be flashbacks. Honestly, her talking about Stabler was fitting, absolutely hate, that he wasn't in this arc.

15x04, what the heck Brian?!? Was that interrogation scene supposed to be a dig at the Benson/Stabler relationship? Tucker is still unlikable. At least the episode finally showed the Cassidy/Benson relationship, because you could easily forget about it in season 14.

15x05, Munch’s goodbye party was a nice start. And I agree with Munch on Cassidy and Benson: they both could do better! I really like the actress, despite the story, I’m happy that she got to come back.

15x06, poor Barba, just trying to help out a friend.

15x07, Clay Aiken and Taylor Hicks, did not expect to see them, great casting!

15x09, Thomas Sadoski!

15x10, of course they had to show a fast-forward to Lewis getting out.

15x11, sad to see Cragen go.

15x14, Noah’s first appearance.

Apart from the opener of this season, I really didn‘t care about any of these episodes…

15x15, that’s Cassidy’s favorite Comedian?!? But that is the first episode I was interested in since the opener.

15x17, will you look at that, they actually called Elliot by his name and not just refer to him as the former partner. Kind of want Declan Murphy to come back again.

15x19, first of, love the actress who played Jenny. Second off, what a good episode, that really showed the consequences of what happened to her as a child. Also, the fact that the victim gets notified whenever a video/image is downloaded is horrifying. So far the best episode of the season for me.

15x20, got my wish, Lt. Murphy is back. Well, to end the episode like that was certainly a choice.

15x21, I hate that it bothers me so much that the blood pattern on Benson's face changed. Did I mention that I like Murphy? Because I really do! The one time, Tucker actually wants to help Benson, and she shoots him down. Hearing Amaro say he’s been here for almost three years was surprising. I really, really, hope, that they won’t ruin Murphy!

15x22, same with Brian and Olivia, Amaro and Rollins were not set up at all.

15x24, nice to see Munch again. Pretty sure that’s not how foster parenting works, but sure.

Favorite Episodes: 15x15 and 15x19

15x19 was definitely my favorite thing of this season. The Lewis arc was a lot less graphic than I thought it would be. I do appreciate Olivia seeing a therapist, and I liked Murphy as a character. Would have actually liked him to stay on. Apart from that, I would really like to have had Stabler in the Lewis arc and just generally in the show.

[orphanedshadow]

.

[mymarifae]

what do you think about the new girl page? seeing lots of divisive opinions on that one

mm. mmmmmm. hoooooooo boy ok let's talk about this. i guess.

to sum it up succinctly? it strikes me as bizarre. like, just bizarre. it's weird on multiple levels and fucks with established characterizations of susie, kris, AND noelle. it's messy and i think it was a poor choice. and for now i'm tentatively bonking toby over the head with a hammer (i will get into why it's tentative for now, rest assured) and i'm also bonking everyone praising it and immediately incorporating it into their views of the characters.

to break it down further...?

in and of itself, it's like. alright, we've got this indirect and yet very clear confirmation that susie was adopted/temporarily housed by (and is still bouncing around in the foster care system) a human family and has/had a "mother" who abuses/d her. so she's lashing out. she's redirecting her pain and trauma onto the one human in hometown. who was also adopted. by a family of monsters. a family that is kind and loving. that's not fair, why didn't she get to be a dreemurr, why did kris steal her chance, this isn't fair this isn't fucking fair-

she's a hurt, scared kid. and i don't necessarily think this is a. well i don't want to say "i don't think this is a bad scene to canonize" because it is a bad scene - it's uncomfortable and it caused me a lot of pain to read. but it's not like unforgivable, and it doesn't make susie a bad person.

i will never hold a grudge against a kid for lashing out when they were never taught love and kindness and acceptance. i will never hold a grudge against a child for being scared and hurt and so so so so angry at the unfairness of the world.

my issues with it arise from the way it just... doesn't... make sense. if susie was truly so horrible to kris, why were they so quick to trust her? hell, why was she so eager to be their friend? there should be a hell of a lot more tension between them. the things susie said to kris were genuinely pretty awful and can't be swept under the rug Just Like That.

it also completely contradicts the way chapter 1 is set up, where we slowly piece together that susie never actually bullied anyone. sure, the way the blog post is written makes it sound like she only went after kris when they were alone, but that kind of visceral hate isn't going to go completely unnoticed. i mean, noelle picked up on it before seeing the classroom incident, yeah? i feel like someone would have said something. and i feel like MK especially would have made one off-hand comment about how much susie seems to hate kris Specifically instead of just repeatedly saying that they've never seen her actually do anything bad, but, b-but, BUT she still sucks kris lol.

also, noelle's "i always thought susie can't be that bad!" comment makes noooooooo fucking sense if she saw this unfold. because she literally saw that yeah. she's that bad.

it puts kris and susie's current easy natural loving friendship in a very weird light, and i very much dislike how many people are jumping to accept it. yes, i also love depth in characters' relationships. i love layers and complexities and tensions.

depth =/= toxic. and that's what this blog post does. it makes it toxic. it makes noelle's crush on susie toxic and uncomfortable as well. (seriously: "maybe i should buy apple shampoo so she bullies me instead? XD" ?????????????)

now you will note that i said i am Tentatively bonking toby over the head with a hammer. there is another reason why i don't like people jumping to incorporate this whole mess into their understanding of kris and susie's friendship:

... how do you know this is a scene from our game's current timeline?

it's pretty obvious deltarune has some fuckery going on irt timelines and resets similarly to undertale. on that same note, i've always loved how quickly susie and kris Click, but it has always made me raise an eyebrow. because that is not two teens slowly realizing they have more common ground than they thought and slowly letting their guards down around each other. that is two already best friends reuniting.

the way i've come to understand it is this: in the very, very, very first instance of "deltarune", it took kris and susie a very long time to become friends. BECAUSE of what happened in the classroom and whatever else. they only began to trust each other a heartbeat away from the end of the world. and then they fail. and then the timeline resets. and they do it again.

and the... feelings, the vague memories and the déjà vu. they linger. distantly, susie remembers a time when they were almost friends. and as the timelines go on, again and again, they just build up. things begin to change. their stories become brighter and brighter, despite ultimately ending in the tragedy that [gaster] wishes to prevent. until we get to this point where susie feels like she should be furious with kris for Something, but she can't bring herself to. and thus our current timeline, the beginning of Our Game, is born.

i stand by my theory that kris and susie's friendship will be what prevents the roaring or the angel's heaven or whatever other apocalyptic events ralsei decides to tell us about later. the red soul's intervention has nothing to do with it. they have lived countless lives together. they know now, just intrinsically, that there's no one they can trust more than each other. they are best friends till the end.

and by god is it going to be a happy one.

toby still gets a bonk over the head if this is the case btw because i ultimately disagree with using "ogh. timelines." as character development but i'll accept it if it means this stupid blog post isn't real (anymore). otherwise, he is going to need to pull some fucking magic out of his ass to explain this properly to me because it literally demolishes 2 chapters of build up and development ABFNDBDKGKFGKFJKGKDG 👍🏾