#i dont wanna goo

[grace4867]

I move out for college tomorrow and i really dont like this

[avid-idiot]

CRYING, SCREAMING, THROWING UP

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[qui-gg]

So many bugs

[kittychicha]

Rookie Historian Goo Hae Ryung (2019)

[xeyyun]

the most graceful man i have ever laid my eyes on (he is far from graceful)

[manitapaleta]

your style is amazing! i’d love to see your interpretation of the lark “we have to kill it” scene

hey it’s march (ask is from jan) and i am just now drawing this but u guys can’t get angry at me abt it bc it’s my birthday 😤😤

[horiizonsstuff]

gonna tell people gungoo was my kathniel or something. PTJ is spreading the doomed yaoi agenda so hard on them like I GOT GUNGOO CRUMBS FOR TWO CHAPTERS AND FOR WHAT

[polarmoon]

moved my pc setup to my boyfriend's desk in our common space yesterday and im in significantly less pain than i usually am already. it turns out using a proper desk helps with posture related pain! who knew!! 🤪

[sweetmctart]

[opens-up-4-nobody]

I'm walking. Fast. The world is tilted. There's green peaking up from flat gray. Short, stubby moss. Like an ooze. Like the sidewalk is compressing it sideways. Persistent even in a concrete jungle. This little thing. This tiny thing. Reaching up toward the sun from under trampling feet. Toward a distant star. And I'm walking, but I'm light through a prism. Splitting seven different directions. A billion and a billion and a billion years brought this tiny crumpled organism to the crushing weight of my foot. And I want to scream and I want to run and I want to cry. Because it's beautiful and I'm worried I'm the only one who sees it. I'm worried it'll burn through me. I'm worried that when I walk this path for my hundred thousandth time, I won't see it like I did this first time. That my world will fall to ash again and I won't see the moss growing up between the seams in the sidewalk.

[avid-idiot]

Maybe the cake isn't worth it....

[vakarians-babe]

henry cavill deffo has the world's most underpaid pr team bc how do people forget the whole 'dated a 19 year old in his 30s and said she took great care of him' thing. im tired of hearing about how this man was 'robbed' or whatever bc he chose to leave the show lmao he's a conventionally attractive hollywood man who plays the role of a friendly buff gamer. you do not know him irl. you know what his pr team wants you to know.

[shot-by-cupid]

He’s so cute when he is. Waking up in the morning (obsessed with him btw)

Hislittle yawn. I would kill a man if it meant I got to wake up next to him everyday. I mean it. I am going to prison.

His tired like. Half lidded eyes. Dude. Don’t even talk to me I’m going to be sick.

Incredibly envious of how easily he’s able to get up. What you just fucking shake your head and go? That’s it? I need to know what he’s on and where I can get some.

He’s so fucking cute. I despise him. I need him so bad. I love him. He’s not just a video game character to me he’s my FUCKING boyfriend.

[muxas-world]

If living in Mexico wasn't already bad, now we have to deal with a government embracing full-on fascist laws. The police are now under full army control (the same army that has committed and continues to commit multiple mass murders and crimes against our people with zero consequences). On top of that, we are about to get doubly screwed by getting judges without faces, meaning the people deciding whether you go to jail or not in an already broken and corrupt system that punishes the poor. It's getting worse because now they don't even face the fear of being exposed. You don’t know who is charging you or why you are being thrown into jail, robbing the Mexican people of a rightful justice process. This is pure fascism

[magnoliidae]

iiiiiii really need this week-long migraine and new-med side-effects to go away right now so that I can be in the right space to get (probably, almost certainly) absolutely emotionally crushed in dnd tonight !!!!!!!!!!!!! ;^;