#in conclusion: the kids will be alright

[thawthebeez]

i was working with some grade 1's today at work and during religion one of the girls said "i'm not gonna use yellow because i'm a girl" so i asked her why, fully expecting her to respond with 'because yellow is a boy colour' but no. instead she responded with "because girls can marry girls." 6 year olds truly are interesting creatures

[yoonstudios]

oh my fucking godddddd i wish i could come out to my parents

[starliteonearth]

If I had a nickel for every time a character had their body used to cause a mass massacre I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice

[levil0vesyou]

🤦‍♂️ I just keep finding weirder and weirder "movements" on this site (and probably elsewhere if I were to look) like...

There's this subgroup of people who I'm not gonna name cuz they're probably kids and I don't want them harassed who like... position themselves as the "good" lgbt+ ppl who are making the community better for other lgbt+ folks, especially ones who also experience other forms of marginalisation, which is, in theory, a nice goal.

And some of their ideas check out, they clearly understand the paradox of tolerance, they're expressly anti-terf, anti-exclusionism, anti-racism and more. But then they also are anti things that make no fucking sense to exclude (on the basis that they're not "valid") such as people with "contradictory" identities such as transmasc lesbians, also they're for some reason really obsessed with hating non-traumagenic systems? Like... those people are not your enemy, they are literally just chilling.

How's that saying go? There's only two types of people who don't belong at Pride: those that are in acute medical distress (who should go get patched up and then they can come back) and those that are attacking others. The same should be applied to the community in general tbh. And no, a trans woman having "fag" in her bio doesn't mean she's attacking you.

Like... who cares if someone's identity doesn't make sense to you, personally? Who cares if you can't wrap your head around it? You know who else casts people out because they think if they don't personally understand every aspect of their identity that means it isn't real? All kinds of lgbtphobes. Homophobes, classic transphobes, terfs, transmeds, aphobes, ... they think like that.

Kill the cop inside your head. You don't have to understand it, you simply have to accept it! I don't understand many things. I don't 100% understand kinnies. I still don't fully get how systems work. I don't see the appeal of nounself pronouns. I've tried my best to familiarise myself with these groups, but I'm still not up to speed. And that's okay! Generally, I do this: if someone tells me something about their identity, be it gender, orientation or whatever, I tend to take them at their word and respect their wishes. Because if anyone knows, it'd be them!

[deanpinterester]

i think my general thoughts on the percy show is just that they're way overcomplicating everything

[satoruxx]

pairing: toji fushiguro x reader | 1.2k words summary: boyfriend!toji again, fluff, soft!toji, grumpy x sunshine, that obligatory sick fic, bickering, affectionate scolding, pet names, this is very self-indulgent !! rheya's note: had this written for so long and never posted it oops !! but yeah resident grump worrying over his fav what's new?

toji knows something is off as soon as he steps into his apartment. he comes to the conclusion almost immediately, because he isn’t greeted like he normally is when he comes home.

normally, he’ll push the door open and you’ll trip over yourself as you stand from the couch, a giddy smile on your face as you jump into his arms. and being the asshole that he is, toji never hesitates to grumble about it, clicking his tongue as he says things along the lines of “dammit kid one day i won’t catch you” or “jeez baby let me get in the house” or something similar. but despite all that his hands will still be attached to you, rubbing your back as he smothers an amused chuckle against your hair.

but not today. today he’s greeted by quiet and emptiness—a clear lack of you. he had opened the door ready to catch you in his arms, but all he can do is raise a brow at the silence. as much as he normally complains about it, this absence makes his gut churn. he pushes all that aside, more concerned than anything as he drops his jacket onto the couch and heads for the bedroom.

toji is nothing if not observant, paranoid as his eyes dart from corner to corner of the small apartment. it’s ingrained into him—this fear that his past will come back to haunt him and take you away in the most brutal way imaginable. but he tries to ignore that, continuing to head down the hall until he pushes the bedroom door open.

his shoulders drop in relief, seeing you laying on your stomach, face buried in the pillows, and he lets out a sigh. he sees you shift a little, signaling that you’re awake, so he takes a few steps forward.

toji climbs onto the bed and lays down next to you, dropping a heavy arm over your back. “what’s wrong?”

“don’t feel good,” you answer back. toji’s brows furrow, and he manages to push his free palm against your forehead. heat pulses against his skin, and his frown deepens.

“the fuck did you do to yourself?” he asks, not unkindly but still stern—you can only glare at him hazily.

“it’s not my fault!”

“uh huh,” toji rolls his eyes, threading his fingers through your sweaty hair and pushing it back from your forehead. “so me telling you to put some layers on when you go out in the cold has nothing to do with this?”

you huff, face heating under his pointed stare, and all you can do is shove his hand away, before pathetically burying your face into the sheets again. “shut up.”

“don’t be a brat.” toji lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head indulgently. “it’s your fault for not listening to me.”

“if you’re just gonna lecture me, go away,” you complain, cheek pressed into the pillow. toji snorts, though his hand rubs what you assume to be soothing circles on your back.

“who’s gonna make sure your dumbass doesn’t get into more trouble?”

another indignant huff, and toji only chuckles. “alright c’mon kid. let’s get you in better shape, yeah?” he grunts, looping his arm around your waist and tugging you up. you immediately protest, whining out a plethora of curses attached to his name, and he rolls his eyes. “okay, alright shut up.”

he maneuvers your body into sitting position, leaning you up against the pillows and pulling the blankets up with furrowed brows—meticulous in a way that he is only with very few things.

“you eat anything today?” he asks, still fussing over the blankets, and you gulp quietly. one look and toji’s frown grows deeper. “kid.” the word comes out stressed, like a scolding, and you wince.

“i didn’t feel like it,” you groan, trying not to wilt under his pointed glare.

“don’t care,” he huffs. “your body needs energy, stupid.”

“rude,” you mutter, crossing your arms and toji rolls his eyes.

“whine all you want—“ he stands up, rolling his neck until he hears a satisfying crack. “—still gonna make you eat something. soup okay?”

you don’t want to admit how tempting it sounds, so with an unrelenting amount of stubbornness you glare at him. “fine.”

his lips quirk upward into a smug little grin, and you try to refrain from throwing something at him. he pats your leg. “alright.”

he heads into the kitchen, leaving you to your thoughts. you hear the occasional sounds of cooking and utensils and before long, the comforting smell of soup wafts through the apartment. you try not to show toji how your mouth is watering when he walks back in, a bowl in his palm.

“here,” he grunts, propping a knee onto the bed that dips under his weight. “eat up, doll.”

you sigh, already hating the feeling of the cool sheets when you move even slightly to reach for it.

“you gonna make me spoon feed you?” toji’s brow quirks—smug, and obviously amused.

“i can do it myself thank you—” you try to take the bowl from him with a glare but he raises it out of your reach and clicks his tongue.

“will y’just let me do this one thing for you, jeez,” he complains, glaring down his nose at you.

you cross your arms with a huff, tone going slightly apologetic. “i feel bad—”

“why the fuck do you feel bad?” he asks sharply, eyes narrowed and confused and caught off guard like you’ve said the most out of pocket thing.

“because—” you stress, throwing your hands up miserably. “you were out on these crazy missions—probably tired as hell. and instead of relaxing you have to come home and take care of me because i was too stupid to look after myself.”

toji groans, putting the bowl on the bedside table before sitting on the bed completely. “kid,” he says emphatically, taking your face in his palms firmly. “how many times do i need to tell you this? i don’t mind lookin’ out for you.”

“yeah but—”

“no shut up,” he snaps, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips. “you always worry about bothering me or inconveniencing me or some other crap like that. i’m telling you—don’t.”

his thumbs gently press into the apples of your cheeks, and your lips part under his pointed gaze.

“i like doin’ shit for you, okay? ‘n takin’ care of you when you’re sick? that’s nothing.” his lips tug into a lopsided smirk. “who else is gonna look out for you anyway?”

you purse your lips, throat going tight because toji rarely talks like this—so honestly open. and though you’re sure that many people out there would say he’s harsh and mean and not good for you, it’s things like this that prove how wrong they are.

“what’s wrong? did i break your brain?” toji asks, reaching up to knock his knuckle against your head, and you huff out a laugh, pushing his arm away.

“shut up,” you mutter, falling into his chest heavily. he chuckles, low and throaty as he pats your back.

“you up for eating now?” you can feel him reaching for the bowl, and you smile against him, pressing your face further into his warmth because toji will always be nothing but safe for you.

“in a minute,” you answer, looping your arms around his waist. he sighs, shaking his head but he doesn’t say anything else.

but you think you can feel him smile against your hair as he drops a chaste kiss to your forehead—you don’t tell him that though.

[catgrandpa]

Gotham has always been weird, so when the groundskeeper at the cemetery noticed the Wayne kid’s plot was disturbed, he just chalked it up to more of the same ol’. Alright, so ‘disturbed’ may be a tad too light of a word, but what’s an empty grave in the grand scheme of Gotham? God knows in a city like this one, they could use all the burial room they could get. He figured he’d just jot it down on the website and hope nobody noticed for a while.

Too bad he didn’t account for the 13 year old boy in Bristol who periodically checks the cemetery’s website when he’s feeling particularly lonely.

Plot Removed.

Tim Drake stared at the two words under the heading for Jason Todd’s plot number. Removed? What do they mean ‘removed’? They can’t just remove a plot? That’s a person down there! That’s Robin down there! You can’t Remove Robin!

Calm down. Deep breaths. Assess the situation.

Robin has been dead for 5 months and 14 days. There is no reason for a grave to be removed that early, especially one of a member of such an affluential family. Chances are likely it’s a simple clerical issue. He can call first thing in the morning and make them aware of the mistake. He can have it all fixed in 5 hours.

Just a phone call.

In 5 hours.

…

Tim hates talking on the phone almost as much as he hates waiting.

Well it won’t be the first time he’s snuck out to head to Gotham proper at 1am. It can’t even really be considered sneaking out if there’s no one home to catch you.

Buses stop running at 2, so he layers a couple sweaters under his coat and grabs his best running sneakers so he can comfortably make the trek back.

Just a quick trip to settle his nerves. Maybe get a few shots in if he spots Batman, but really he just wants to see with his own two eyes that things are okay and Jason can rest.

It’s 1:37 by the time he gets to the headstone reading ‘Here Lies Jason Todd’ and the gaping, muddy pit in front of it.

This- This doesn’t make any sense. This is not removal. This is destruction. Desecration. Somebody did this. Somebody-

Assess the situation.

A hole in the ground, approximately 1.5 feet in diameter.

Mud and grass flung outward but with little force.

Large chunks of earth turned over and shoved away.

No signs of tool marks or clean lines of entry into the dirt.

Dragging claw marks.

Staggering, shuffled pairs of foot prints in the mud.

A trail of dirt.

Something… Something large clawed its way out of the ground here. Something large and bipedal and- and humanoid.

Tim refuses to jump to any conclusions he can see all the facts laid in front of him. He’s going to cautiously follow the trail and simply hope to any god listening that he isn’t the world’s first line of defense against the zombie apocalypse.

He’s been walking for 23 minutes and there’s good news and undecided news. Good news: he’s closing in on the target and the trail isn’t taking him out of the way so his trip home won’t be prolonged. Undecided news: The potential Zombie Robin is heading directly for Wayne Manor.

As zombie apocalypse news, this is very bad. From Tim’s collected observational evidence, his not-so-professional opinion is that Batman, faced with a horror movie level zombie of his dead son, would not respond well, and would likely not fight back.

In Batman and Robin news? Tim’s unsure. If Jason is simply back? What could that mean for them? Batman can have his Robin. He wouldn’t have to continue nearly killing others and himself every night in his grief. Jason could-

No. Stop. Do not jump to conclusions.

Hope only brings heartbreak.

What would Batman do? Get close and see if the target is a threat.

Target is male. Mid-teens. Dark hair. Pale skin. Leaning against surfaces as he walks. Appears injured and disoriented.

Minimal risk assessed. Approaching and attempting contact.

Target identity confirmed: Jason Todd.

“J-Jason?” It comes out as a croaked whisper. Jason shows no sign of acknowledgment.

Tim clears his throat, steps right in front of his path, and tries again.

“Jason. Jason, stop I want to help you.” Still nothing.

“Please, Jason. I can help, I promise I can help!”

Why isn’t this working?! Why can’t he just do something right for once?! He wants this to work, he wants to help Bruce, he wants to fix Batman, he wants to not be alone, he wants-

“Robin!”

Robin jerks to a stop.

Tim reached out his hand.

“Robin. Robin please, I’m sorry you’re going through this, it’s really scary, I’m really scared. But I just want to help you. Help you find Batman. Help you get home.”

Jason just stares at him. Of course he does. Of course it’s not going to work. Why did he even bother hoping he could help?

Hope only brings heartbreak.

His sight blurs as his eyes fill with tears and he starts to lower his outstretched hand.

His arm is slowed as a cold hand weakly grasps his own.

“Don’t… scared… Bat… help… Dad… help.”

A relieved sob tears out from Tim’s chest and he gathers himself together. He yanks his extra sweater off and gently pulls it over Jason’s cold shoulders. Jason lets Tim drag his arm over his shoulders to try and carry some of his weight.

“Okay, Robin. Yeah. Your dad will help us.”

Batman will solve everything once Tim gets Robin home.

[princessbrunette]

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … SHARPEST TOOL ♡

track five of the short n’sweet series. pairing: babydaddy!rafe x reader. based loosely on the song sharpest tool by sabrina carpenter. enjoy! ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა

it’s not like you expected a marriage proposal or anything.

rafe was going to be rafe, you knew that— it was the whole reason he was your babydaddy and not your husband or even boyfriend. the cameron man was bright where it counted but not even nearly emotionally equipped enough to handle the trials and tribulations of an adult relationship paired with a baby. he got the baby on fridays and tuesdays. that was the agreement.

but that didn’t mean you didn’t see him inbetween.

“mmh, fuck— s’mine isn’t it? huh? c’mon—” rafe cups your chin, encouraging you to speak words that were incoherent whines as he drives his cock repeatedly through your gummy walls.

“yours, still yours rafey.”

god, you’d think the two of you were still together. it was sex talk, nothing more nothing less — you assumed anyway. unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances in your love life, and the fact you were somewhat soul tied to the cameron boy, you meant every word. there was no way he felt the same, merely doing you a favour even — due to your raging hormones post pregnancy recovery that were adjacent to a teenage boys. he was helping you out.

“this pussy is — goddamn, still as good as the first time i fucked it.” he groans into your neck because you know he’s close.

you roll your hips, forever trying to please him.

as aforementioned, it’s not like you expected him to suddenly come forward with a proposal after he’d finished into the condom. he drops a kiss to your temple like always, cleans himself off in the bathroom, awkwardly stands in your door making small talk, and occasionally decides that then is the time to drop your wad of allowance money that he gives you for raising his kid. you told him to stop putting money on your dresser after sex because it made you feel like a ‘paid service’. he rolled his eyes.

the problem didn’t lie with how rafe treat you within the four walls of your bedroom. rafe was going to be rafe, and that was that. it was how he’d behave upon seeing you in public. you’d think the two of you were merely strangers. if you were to stroll through the country club where you rightfully belong just as much as him, he’d turn his back, look away. like he’d forgotten everything.

at this point, you couldn’t tell if he was nonchalant or just plain stupid. you couldn’t keep chasing the feeling of the rare little nod of acknowledgement he’d send your way when you’d accidentally lock eyes. he wasn’t ashamed of the situation, no — you’d seen him proudly walk around the club with his little girl in his arms, letting everyone surround them, fawn over them. it was you that got left behind.

you’d decided enough was enough, coming to the conclusion you’d ignore him right back. it was approaching the weekend, and you knew you’d have to see him — so you prepared yourself to be strong. resilient. play him at his own game. you were simply there to drop off the baby and go home.

rafe comes and stands by you at the country club bar on a thursday evening.

“usual time tomorrow?” he nudges you gently with his arm, and you were shocked he was even speaking to you. not allowing the shock to cause you to jump straight into friendly conversation, you stare ahead.

“yep.”

“alright…yeah, yeah…” he nods, itching his cheek, eyes glancing back over to you. “i assume you uh, you’re gonna want something to help get you right huh? nothing some dick can’t fix…” you can hear the smirk on his voice and you exhale shakily, not wanting to react in the usual pavlovian way with your panties practically dropping.

so you say nothing. you stare ahead.

the bartender brings his beer, and yet he stays, staring at your profile. “a’ight… fucks a’matter with you?”

“you clearly don’t care, you can skip the formalities.” you find yourself spitting out before you can help yourself. he stares for another moment before he scoffs.

“the fucks your problem, little miss attitude?” he drawls, blinking in irritation but your order comes and you take it and walk away. he doesn’t chase you, of course not.

you drop the baby off the next day, and he tries his luck again, welcoming you inside wearing grey sweats. “c’mon.” he croons quietly, nodding his head inside after you’d got the sleeping baby situated and you stand up straight, look him in the eye, and smile.

“so you can treat me like i’m not a person afterwards? i think i’ll pass.” you turn your daughter, blowing her a kiss. “bye baby, mommy will see you tomorrow.” rafe stares after you, watching you go.

to answer your previous pondering, it turned out rafe was more stupid than he was nonchalant. truth be told, he hadn’t realised he’d been acting all that much differently. you were co-parenting, not a couple — so he figured his time at the country club was his time and yours was yours. he didn’t wanna bother you a whole bunch and put you off visiting.

but the dots were starting to connect, and rafe remembered that women do infact need more emotional stimulation to live happily beside you — and he’d be damned if he weren’t to look after the mother of his child properly. if that’s what you needed, he’d be happy to play ball.

the two of you don’t say much to eachother when you pick the baby up the next day, yet when monday rolls around, and you step into the country club with three of your friends to discuss an upcoming event — rafe cameron doesn’t waste any time.

he cuts topper off mid conversation, holding up a dismissive hand as soon as his eyes meet you and he begins to swagger over to you in his usual aggressive and demanding manner. you think he’s about to give you an earful infront of your friends so you stop nervously, brow creasing. however, when he reaches you — he grips you and brings his lips to yours, cutting off any potential confused greeting on your tongue with a kiss.

“gonna stop pouting about this whole thing now? huh?” he raises his eyebrows and you blink up at him, turning to your friends and shooing them to their table. turning back, you eye him.

“why did you—”

“you think i don’t care about you, that’s it right? like — like i don’t supply your ass with endless money, threaten any asshole that tries to make a move on you, defend you like my god damn life depends on it, fuck you when you need it? hm? nah, nah you really think—”

“wait, who do you threaten?”

“thats— ahh… thats not important, alright?” he scratches his temple, buzzcut bristling against his blunt fingernails as he quickly wets his lips with his tongue. “i didn’t know i was fucking up. okay?” his drags out his version of an apology and you feel the tiniest smile creeping up on you. it was pathetic, really.

“i just didn’t want you to be ashamed of me.” you sigh, looking down and he’s lightly gripping your chin immediately so you looked up at him when he spoke. old habits die hard.

“i’m not. you think i’d put a baby in someone i was ashamed of? that shits for the pogues.”

“rafe.”

“look,” he pulls his sunglasses on over his eyes and wraps an arm around you, the two of you now looking out over the club. the eyes of his friends and yours are quickly averted, having being watching the entire interaction. “i don’t know what more you want, okay i’m— i haven’t done this before. i don’t know if you’re aware but i haven’t had a kid before. this shit is my first fuckin’ rodeo too.” he turns to look down at you through the dark frames, a serious and promising look on his face. “but whatever i need to do… to keep that little attitude at bay, i’ll make shit happen. yeah? even if i gotta fuck you infront’a the whole club.”

he might not have been the sharpest tool, but he knew what you wanted to hear.

[wonderjanga]

Billy’s Ideal Hero

Billy has had so so so many years to think about being the ideal hero. He’s finally come to the conclusion as to what being the ideal hero is.

It’s being super mysterious and suave. Mary thought him that last word.

Thankfully, he came to this conclusion before he started fully interacting with the public so no one needs to know about his normal, not hero-like self.

Billy didn’t realize how much of an impact this persona had on history and other heroes in general. The first time he found this out was, after the time bubble popped, when he was in DC because he needed to talk with some government people. On his way back to Fawcett, before he could leave the city, he spotted some kids bullying another, and he swiftly put a stop to it.

Marvel: *lands behind them with a smile* “I think it’d be wise for you boys to stop.”

Bullies: *turn and scream before running off*

Marvel: “Now then, are you alright?” *picks up some books on the ground*

Kid: *gobsmacked and takes the books back*

Marvel: *raises a brow but starts to float off the ground so he can fly off again*

Kid: “WAIT! WAIT! Are you the real deal?”

Marvel: “Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kid: “That’s… Awesome!”

The kid started yapping and yapping about something Billy didn’t entirely understand. The kid then shifted his books around so he could get to a history textbook.

Kid: *flips to a page* “This is you, right? You said this!” *shows it to Billy*

it was a black and white picture of him, making a speech in front of a crowd.

“It is a heroes job to protect anyone they can. Weak or strong, black or white, man or woman. It should not ever matter. If it does, you were simply never a hero in the first place.”

— Captain Marvel, circa 1949

It took every bone in Marvel’s body to not scrunch his face and look away and embarrassment because WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’S IN THE TEXTBOOKS?! But alas, he has to remain that cool mysterious disposition.

The second time he realized the impact of this persona was when he was also in another city. Metropolis. See, he’d wanted to talk to this so called “Superman” but before he could, a giant foreign aircraft made itself known. Naturally, he went through the proper proceedings of telling the aircraft to leave and that it was in a foreign airspace. Instead of leaving it shot at him. None of its weird doohickies worked though. How humans have developed… Anyways, that ended up with him luring the ship to the middle of nowhere. After all, he would never fight it in a city. He’d have to be an idiot to do that.

He took care of the ship itself in a minute, his lightning frying it. Then he took care of the invaders inside. Turns out they were from a different planet. He took care of them in a couple minutes. In the end, he was covered in alien guts and picking it out of his suit and gloves.

After Marvel steps out of the ship…

Supes: *standing there confused as to why the aliens weren’t attacking and suddenly sees Marvel and stares*

Marvel: *stares back and stops picking alien intestine out of the hood of his cape* (idk I just like it whenever he has a hood on his cape. Think of the injustice version of him if you don’t know what I mean)

*silence*

Marvel: “I presume you’re Superman?” *steps forward, ignoring that he’s covered in blood because that wouldn’t be very mysterious or suave of him to acknowledge*

Supes: “Uh…” *looks behind Marvel and sees a bunch of dead aliens* “Yes?”

Marvel: “Wonderful!” *moves in front of Clark, takes off a glove (Yes he also wears gloves because I really like his injustice costume if you ignore all the black and replace it with either red or white) and holds out a hand for a shake* “It’s amazing to meet a new hero, let alone one from outside of Fawcett.”

Supes: “Really? It’s a pleasure to meet you too, sir.” *shakes his hand*

And it really was, even if Clark kept looking between Marvel and the aliens because he hadn’t heard a single sound of pain from the ship. That either meant Marvel did it quickly or he did it quietly. Clark wasn’t sure which was better. It was still a shock to see a revered hero, a hero Clark actually idolized, look like the person responsible for a massacre.

The two talked though and Clark wasn’t picking up any homicidalness so…? They actually managed to get smoothies after the Captain cleaned himself up with magic. Clark didn’t even know how they ended up in a smoothie joint. It’s just the other hero was so- so- so suave and mysterious. It reminded Clark a wee inseey weesy bit of Bruce. (Billy would internally cheer upon realizing that his persona was working) The other hero was also extremely easy to talk to and actually liked a lot of things Clark did, like reporting!

it almost made the kryptonian forget about the fact he was pretty sure the other man massacred a bunch of aliens. Almost. He brought it up to Batman immediately after their little little hangout session.

[mokulule]

While I fail to focus after my night shift have a peek at another of my brain worms

Untitled, I am still waiting for that moment of divine inspiration. Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason)  Fandom: DP x DC 

The only sounds in the Batcave were the bats chittering amongst themselves high above. Bruce rubbed his chin absently as he took in the information displayed on the large screens with narrowed eyes. Something wasn’t adding up. Somebody was lying.

No matter how many times he looked over the information, that was his conclusion. It nagged at him that he didn’t know what, if any, information he could use. He hated being so in the dark. 

A silent notification in the corner of his screen alerted him to a call from the Watchtower. He took it and Superman’s face appeared in a smaller rectangle on the center of the screen. Bruce kept outwardly placid but from behind the cowl nobody would see the way his gaze instantly zeroed in on the massive black eye Superman had acquired, and the general strain around his unhurt eye and mouth. He was worn out. 

“Phantom has been apprehended,” Superman said with a long sigh. It had clearly not been an easy fight. 

“I’ll be there,” Batman said and ended the call. Maybe they’d finally get some real answers. 

He stood and walked towards the zeta tube. Another call came in, this time on the comm in his cowl. 

“Hood,” he greeted.

“Hey, old man. I’m at the location. You were right it’s absolutely crawling with the white suits and their weaponry is not like anything I’ve seen before.”

Bruce felt like a hand squeezed his heart. Hood out of anyone knew his weapons, if he didn’t know them they weren’t on the market. He absolutely hated asking any of his kids to walk into an unknown situation. Unfortunately he didn’t have any other options. 

“Be careful, Hood.”

“Aww, is that worry I detect?”

“Just don’t take unnecessary risks,” Bruce cautioned.

“You wouldn’t have asked me if you didn’t think it was necessary, old man. Don’t worry, I’ll get you your intel.”

Bruce grunted. Jason was right. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t think it was important. Didn’t mean he had to like it, nor the fact that Red Hood’s criminal reputation made him perfect for breaking into a government building; even if Hood was seen the Justice League kept plausible deniability. 

Everyone knew Red Hood was a wild card. 

“Check in regularly with Oracle.”

He could practically feel the way Jason rolled his eyes at him.

“Not my first rodeo, B.”

With that the connection cut off. Bruce couldn’t help the bad feeling he had about everything. 

He really hated this stage of an investigation. 

Two months ago the US government contacted the Justice League about a problem. Several bases of a government agency named the GIW had been hit by a malicious creature they called Phantom. The attacks had been gaining in severity and frequency and their measures had so far failed to stop it. 

Since then, a member of the Justice League had arrived too late to five such attacks. They’d stood no chance against Phantom, who’d then disappeared, living up to the name.

To their eyes Phantom was outwardly a humanoid, possibly a meta or alien. The GIW called him a ghost from a different dimension.

They had been at a loss of how exactly to contain such a powerful foe, who not only could go toe to toe with their heavy hitters like Superman, but also disappear by means unknown. This time they’d been prepared. They’d had various team configurations ready to go depending on who was available. 

Something that seemed to have paid off, but Bruce did not like that Clark was injured. Because if Clark was injured…

A zeta tube ride later and he met Superman on the Watchtower. Something that hadn’t been apparent on the call was the sling Superman’s left arm was in. Another visible injury added to the swollen eye. 

“Is everyone alright?” He had to ask.

“Nobody’s permanently hurt.” Clark hurried to assure as they started walking towards the interrogation room, but there was a but. Bruce kept his stare steady until Clark tiredly elaborated: “But nobody got out the fight unscathed. John won’t be walking for a while. J’onn is suffering from psychic backlash. Diana has some broken ribs and scrapes and you can see my own wounds. Everyone is tired, it was a long fight.”

Batman’s lips thinned. At least there had been no casualties. 

Almost as if reading his mind. Superman added quietly. 

“We got there while the base was still standing. Phantom made eye contact with me for a moment, before he unleashed this… sonic attack…” His face turned pained, as he looked for words that came halting. “It was a scream, I can’t describe it, it felt- it felt like I was dying. None of us could get close.”

Superman looked away.

“When it was over the base was gone, eradicated, like the others. There was just a large crater. Who knows how many people were still in there.”

Bruce set a hand on his friend’s shoulder. It was never easy to deal with casualties. 

“The one good thing about it was that the scream seemed to drain quite a bit of energy from him.” Clark barked a laugh, short and hysterical. Bruce knew Clark would have rather faced Phantom at full power if it meant more people had lived. 

“And still it was all we could do to subdue him. We barely won.”

They barely won. Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern and Martian Manhunter, and they barely won. The knowledge sat like a heavy ball in Bruce’s chest. 

Now, maybe they could get intel that wasn’t most reluctantly handed over by a government agency, that didn’t even want to reveal what their alphabet soup name was an abbreviation of. “We had to turn off the ‘Ghost Shield’ to get Phantom inside the base, so we at least know it works, even if for some reason it doesn’t protect the GIW bases,” Superman remarked.  

Bruce hnn’ed to show he’d heard. It was one more discrepancy among many.

Batman entered the observation room with Superman at his back. Wonder Woman was there and he quickly took in her unusually disheveled appearance, she looked tired and uncomfortable, shaken (but whole, safe). He nodded in greeting and she gave him a tight smile in return. He turned to the observation window and felt his breath stick in his throat.

Phantom was- 

The glitchy footage they’d managed to get on earlier encounters couldn’t have prepared him. Bruce felt his jaw clench. Phantom looked young. There was still a hint of baby fat stubbornly clinging to his cheeks. He was short and wiry like Tim but maybe a bit younger than Jason, technically an adult, but to Bruce he still looked painfully young. The overall glowing and the slowly seeping green wound at his hairline didn’t take away just how human he looked. 

Bruce looked at Phantom and saw a kid. Worse, supposedly a dead kid, a ghost, if the most basic of their intel was to be believed, which even that he wasn’t entirely sure of.

A weight was heavy on his shoulders. He had to remind himself that he had found evidence of Phantom throughout history and if a ghost was truly what he was, he was most likely a very old, very powerful spirit, for whom age didn’t matter. It would be a mistake to trust the youthful appearance. 

He was chained to the chair both by wide cuffs at his wrists and ankles so he could only move very little. The cuffs were the best they had when it came to meta power suppression cuffs with some added ghost specific sigils courtesy of Zatanna’s research. She would have liked Constantine to look them over too as that sort of thing was more his area of expertise, but he’d been off on one of his extra-dimensional missions since long before this started and they hadn’t been able to contact him. 

The cuffs kept Phantom here in any case and he didn’t look happy about it. His lips were a flat line and the thick black brows were drawn together over narrowed green eyes. His head was held high (stubbornness? Pride?), chin tilted in a way that showed off a bright green-purple line around his throat, which had it been red and on a human would have looked like rope burn-

Bruce looked to Diana and he suddenly understood part of her discomfort.

“He was about to use another sonic attack, I didn’t see any other way.” Her words were quiet, regretful, but she faced his gaze head on. Bruce nodded. She never would have used the lasso like that under normal circumstances. It was incredibly worrying how much it had taken to subdue him. 

For a moment the three of them just stood there in silence, watching Phantom watch the door.

It was finally time for answers. 

Bruce didn’t make any outward sign that he was about to move, but of course Clark caught on even before he’d moved, stepping aside letting Bruce take point. They went into the interrogation room, Diana staying back to observe and be ready with security measures, they didn’t know for sure would even work.

They entered the room and immediately sharp green eyes locked onto him. There was a quick glance towards Superman, but the eyes quickly focused back on Batman. There was a calculating sort of intelligence behind those eyes. 

That was one question immediately answered, but it was one he could have inferred. It was very hard to believe the claim that this “ghost” was non-sentient, when he specifically targeted the bases of a specific government agency and nothing else. Though of course they could have had something that attracted the ghost, but nobody could look at Phantom and think non sentient. 

Now the question was, why?

Bruce sat down in one of the chairs on the other side of the table from Phantom. Clark had a moment’s pause before he joined them. Bruce pulled out a tablet from underneath his cape and laid it carefully out on the table, turning it on. At this point most people in the room with the Batman would have started getting nervous, but evidently not Phantom. He was still just passively defiant, not to mention he hadn’t yet said a word.

“Phantom, is that your preferred manner of address?” Bruce decided to start out neutral. 

There was a glitter of amusement in green eyes and the barest uptick of his lips, but he remained silent. Bruce could do silence. 

The silence stretched between them until Clark broke it.

“Why do you destroy those bases?”

Phantom glanced to Clark and his earnest question, then back to Bruce, barely raising an eyebrow, like as if to say “really, this the best you can do?” Bruce resisted the urge to sigh. Clark was usually a better foil for him at interrogations, but then most people didn’t choose total silence.

Bruce decided to be frank with him.

“We are trying to understand your motivation. That’s all.” He studied Phantom’s face which had settled into a stony glare. “But first I’d just like to know if it’s alright to call you Phantom and what your pronouns are? We have been using he/him based on your appearance but you might have another preference?”

The glare softened a bit and for a moment Bruce actually thought he’d lured a response out of him, but Phantom just looked away. Incidentally drawing attention to the line at his throat. A sudden thought occurred to him.

“Are you so hurt, that you’re unable to speak?”

Phantom slowly looked back at him. He seemed to actually be contemplating giving some sort of answer.

That’s when his comm clicked on barely audible.

“The GIW has been in contact,” Diana informed him quietly over the comms. Phantom stiffened across from him, his gaze narrowing like a cat - so they could add enhanced hearing to his powers. “They are requesting we hand over Phantom.”

Bruce looked straight at Phantom as he spoke, “They have no jurisdiction in space. I presume you declined?”

“Of course.”

Phantom’s face turned unreadable for a moment. His gaze went from him, to Superman and the opaque glass that hid the observation room. Finally he huffed. 

“Phantom, he/him is fine.” His voice had an echoey quality to it. 

It seemed they were finally going somewhere. 

-

They were not going somewhere. 

Even hours later Phantom kept up his silence. They’d held several breaks. Phantom had been offered food and water but had declined nonverbally. 

They were going in circles, trying the same questions again and again. Prolonged silence didn’t help any either. 

If only J’onn was an option, but he was already suffering from psychic backlash from trying to go into Phantom’s mind during the fight. 

So far the only things Bruce could add to the certain facts were that Phantom was sentient, intelligent and didn’t like the GIW to the point that he would commit mass murder to take them down. 

And Bruce would just really like to know why? Because with the kinds of powers he’d shown off he could have easily killed the members of the Justice League sent to apprehend him. He seemed to have no qualms about killing, yet he’d stayed his hands?

Bruce had hoped that meant Phantom considered them at least somewhat neutral in this conflict. But apparently not neutral enough to talk to. 

Clark had tried and Diana had tried. Nothing helped. 

Bruce was considering his options, when the door opened. 

“B, I need to speak with you.” That was Tim, he looked pale. Something had happened. Bruce got up, Clark following. Bruce decidedly ignored the sudden curiosity from Phantom. They closed the door and walked down the hall. When Bruce felt they were far enough from Phantom he stopped.

“Red Robin, report.”

“We’ve lost contact with Hood.”

Bruce’s heart dropped cold into his stomach. No. It couldn’t be. 

“When?”

“Two hours ago is when he last checked in. He’s since missed several check-ins.” Tim’s hands tightened into fists at his sides. “Could be he’s just not in a position to respond, or they have scramblers in the base.”

It was likely, in fact very likely that was the case with how secretive the GIW were being, but two hours were a long time to miss check-ins. Clark’s hand landed on his shoulder which he only now realized how tense was, but no, now was not the time to relax or calm down. He shrugged Clark’s hand off and stalked back down the hall.

The GIW were mum about any details. There was only one person who could tell them what Jason was facing in that building.

He burst into the interrogation room and slammed his hands on the table. That got Phantom’s attention his eyes widening before narrowing and his lips splitting in a snarl that showed off fangs, but Bruce sneered right back.

“We lost contact with an agent sent to infiltrate a GIW-base, you will tell me what you know about them, or so help me I will make you wish you stayed in that dimension you came from.”

“Batman, please, maybe you should step out-“ Clark began good hand hovering shy of Bruce, but he was interrupted by the bark of laughter coming from Phantom.

And then he laughed and laughed and laughed. 

Bruce punched him. Clark pulled him back. 

Phantom slowly turned his head back to look at them, working his jaw. 

“There we have it after all. Your true colors: attacking a chained up captive.” He wiggled his fingers drawing attention to the wide thick cuffs dwarfing his wrists. His eyes held only cold judgment. “But don’t worry, Batman, your agent has nothing to fear from the GIW unless they are dead.”

Bruce couldn’t help the flinch and he felt Clark do the same. Something in the very air stilled then, making it hard to breathe. 

“You,” Phantom began standing up, right out of the restraints as if they weren’t there, “are going to explain to me what that reaction means…“ He carefully put his hands down on the table and leaned forward in a way that made it very apparent he was holding himself back. He glared holes into Bruce’s skull with blazing green eyes. “Unless you want your agent back in pieces.”

-

Psssst. this is actually the beginning of the fic where this is from (CW: relatively graphic aftermath of vivisection)

So basically Phantom is public enemy number one, or at least top of the US government and GIW's shit list XD Huh, "Wanted: Dead or Alive", might actually be a pretty fun title, what do you guys think?

[la-di-da-la-di-dee-die]

@wolfythewitch ‘s Gravity Fowls au has awoken a lost childhood memory of mine recently, specifically because their au is so similar to one of my favorite books when I was a kid: Fantastic Mr. Fox

Basic summary of the book: Three Evil Capitalist Farmers attempt to starve local anthro fox family who regularly steal their products (chickens, goose, duck, turkey, and apples/cider) via bio terrorism, failing miserably at every turn.

Now, you may be wondering, what the actual fuck does that have to do with Gravity Fowls? Well, a major part of the book is that the previously mentioned anthro-fox family has been forced underground by previously mentioned Evil Capitalist Farmers, and so Mr. Fox (the mc) has to devise a fool proof method of getting his family food: tunneling farther underground toward the Evil Capitalist Farms and stealing their produce that way instead of the regular way. I don’t know why, but that just sounds like something Bill would do? Like it just fits his vibes.

So, I just had to draw Bill in Mr. Fox’s outfit!

Isn’t he just so handsome? I also drew one other fanart, and some quick context for this next one:

The Evil Capitalist Farmers also accidentally drive the other wildlife into hiding with their bio-terrorism, which are also anthropomorphic (note: all the animals are anthro, but not the chickens or other produce? Probably too dark for a kids book idk). The other animals blame Mr. Fox for being a fucking sneak, and Mr. Fox is like, woah guys! Don’t worry, I’ve fixed everything, I’ve got an infinite food glitch! We just use these tunnels me and the fam have dug to steal more food! I even got some carrots for the vegetarians! And the other animals are like, alright seems legit.

Why all this context? Because I drew Bill’s henchmaniac crew as origami animals based off the other animals from Fantastic Mr. Fox:

I imagine they still live in the nightmare dimension, but they just origami now. btw all the animals in the book have names like Mr. Weasel, and Mr. Mole, with wife and kids too, which is wild to me. Except Mr. Rat. He’s an aweful disgusting thief (which, who in this book isn’t??) whose constantly getting drunk off Cider (which, again, who tf in this book isn’t?? Even one of the anthro-kids gets drunk at some point??)

But I didn’t just make fanart that catered to me and only me, I also made this:

I had this thought of, what if during weirdmagedon, instead of just getting a 3D form, Bill turns into an actual fox, not just an origami one? So that’s where this came from. Also it should be criminal how long it took me to draw Stanford! I spent so long on that fucking chicken.

Uhm, conclusion? Gravity Fowls is awesome, and respect to Wolfythewitch for being able to actually draw chickens consistently well, I only dream to be able to master that skill.

[bodybaggage]

Shadows in Gotham

---

Gotham’s twilight sky was a patchwork of purples and reds, a fading canvas that gave way to the inky blackness of night. The city was alive with the usual sounds of distant sirens, honking horns, and the underlying hum of danger that never quite left its streets. For Danny Fenton, now in his early twenties, Gotham was supposed to be a fresh start—a place to lay low and raise his unconventional family.

His daughter, Danielle, Ellie, as she preferred—skipped ahead on the cracked sidewalk, her energy boundless despite the long day. She looked about ten years old, though she was technically more of a clone than a traditional daughter. She had Danny’s black hair but with an unruly curl to it, and her bright blue eyes sparkled with a mischievous light. Beside Danny, holding his hand, was a boy who looked no older than eight. His hair was tousled, and his expression was a strange mix of innocence and the haunting wisdom of someone far older. This was Dan, Danny’s de-aged evil future self, a living, breathing reminder of what could go wrong if they weren’t careful.

The trio moved through the narrow streets, Danny’s senses on high alert as they made their way back to the modest apartment they now called home. He had retired from the life of a ghostly vigilante, focusing instead on keeping his small family safe and hidden from the relentless pursuit of the Guys in White (GIW). To the world, they were just another struggling family in Gotham. But beneath the surface, their existence was anything but ordinary.

“Can we get pizza tonight?” Ellie asked, her voice full of hope as she glanced back at Danny.

“Pizza sounds good,” Danny replied with a smile. “But it’s Gotham, so let’s hope the delivery guy makes it to our place in one piece.”

Ellie giggled, and even Dan let out a rare smile, though it was fleeting. The moment of normalcy was interrupted by the sound of a scuffle up ahead. Danny’s instincts kicked in as he pulled his kids closer, eyes narrowing at the scene unfolding just around the corner.

A man, clearly desperate, was trying to rob a woman at gunpoint. The woman’s purse dangled from his shaky hand, and fear was etched across her face. Danny knew he should keep moving, that getting involved could blow their cover, but he couldn’t just walk away.

“Stay here,” Danny whispered to Ellie and Dan, his voice firm.

Before he could intervene, a shadowy figure dropped from the rooftops, landing silently behind the mugger. The man didn’t stand a chance as a blur of red and black moved with lethal precision. Within seconds, the mugger was disarmed and unconscious on the pavement.

Red Hood stood over the man, his stance relaxed but ready, as if this was just another routine night in Gotham. He turned to the woman, who quickly grabbed her purse and bolted, muttering her thanks. It was only then that Red Hood noticed Danny and the kids standing just a few feet away, watching the scene unfold.

Danny tensed as the vigilante’s eyes—hidden behind that crimson helmet—seemed to study them. He instinctively placed a hand on each of his kids’ shoulders, ready to flee if things went south.

“You alright?” Red Hood asked, his voice rough but not unkind. He seemed to soften at the sight of the kids, his posture relaxing ever so slightly.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Danny replied, his tone cautious. “Just heading home.”

Red Hood’s gaze flicked between Danny and the children, and Danny could almost feel the wheels turning behind that mask. This was Gotham, after all, a city full of dark secrets. A young man, barely an adult, with two small kids in tow—it wasn’t hard to jump to conclusions.

“You live around here?” Red Hood pressed, the curiosity in his voice making Danny’s stomach tighten.

“Not far,” Danny answered, hoping to end the conversation quickly. “Just trying to keep my family safe.”

Red Hood nodded slowly, as if weighing his next words. “Gotham’s not exactly the best place to raise kids, especially if you’re... alone.”

Danny’s jaw clenched, recognizing the underlying question. “We manage.”

Before Red Hood could probe further, Ellie stepped forward, her usual boldness taking over. “He’s the best dad ever! And we don’t need any help, mister.”

Red Hood chuckled softly, the sound almost disarming. “I’m sure he is, kid. But just in case, you should know there are people around here who can help... if you ever need it.”

Danny forced a tight smile, grateful for Ellie’s fierce loyalty but wary of the attention they’d attracted. “Thanks, but we’re good.”

Red Hood seemed to accept this, though the suspicion in his stance didn’t entirely fade. “Take care of yourself,” he said finally, before turning and vanishing into the shadows as quickly as he’d appeared.

Danny let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The encounter had been brief, but he knew it wouldn’t be the last. The Bat Family had eyes everywhere, and their curiosity was piqued.

“Let’s get home,” Danny murmured, guiding Ellie and Dan down the street with renewed urgency.

They reached their apartment without further incident, the familiar creak of the stairs a welcome sound. Once inside, Danny locked the door and sagged against it, the weight of their precarious situation pressing down on him.

Ellie flopped onto the worn couch, her earlier bravado replaced with concern. “Are we in trouble, Dad?”

Danny ruffled her hair affectionately. “No, Ellie. We’re just... being careful. That’s all.”

Dan sat quietly at the kitchen table, his eyes distant as he processed the night’s events. “He was one of the Bats, wasn’t he?”

Danny nodded, joining Dan at the table. “Yeah, Red Hood. He’s... complicated. But we should be alright if we keep a low profile.”

The night passed uneventfully, but the encounter with Red Hood lingered in Danny’s mind. He knew that living in Gotham meant constant vigilance, but the thought of the Bat Family watching them added a new layer of stress.

---

Meanwhile, across town, the Bat Family gathered in the Batcave, the massive space filled with the glow of computer screens and the quiet hum of machinery.

“Interesting case tonight,” Red Hood—Jason Todd—began as he removed his helmet, revealing the slightly tousled dark hair underneath. “Ran into a guy with two kids. They seemed... out of place.”

“Out of place in Gotham?” Dick Grayson, quipped from where he was perched on the edge of the Batcomputer’s console. “That’s pretty much everyone.”

Jason shot him a look. “Not like that. The guy was young, barely in his twenties. The kids were ten and eight, maybe. And something about them just... felt off.”

Bruce Wayne, Batman, looked up from the screen, his expression unreadable. “Off how?”

Jason hesitated, searching for the right words. “I don’t know. There’s something he’s not saying. And those kids—they’re attached to him, but it’s like they’re all trying to stay under the radar.”

Damian Wayne, the current Robin, scoffed. “Plenty of people try to stay out of sight in this city. It’s not our problem unless they break the law.”

“Yeah, but...” Jason trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “There’s a chance that guy’s a victim. The way the girl talked about him, it was like she was protecting him.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think the children are in danger?”

Jason frowned, shaking his head. “Not from him. I think they’re all running from something.”

Silence settled over the Batcave as they considered the implications. Bruce stood, his presence commanding as ever. “Keep an eye on them. Gotham has a way of uncovering secrets, and we can’t afford to overlook anything.”

---

Back at the apartment, Danny lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The shadows played tricks in the dim light, reminding him of the life he left behind. He had taken on more than just the role of a father—he had become a protector, a shield against the darkness that sought to consume them.

But Gotham was relentless, and he knew their time in the shadows was running out.

---

🧌

[spencerreiddddd]

Unfit, or fit?

I actually love this recommendation so much, hope you love it @ilovethepipecleaner !💋

Gist: Spencer and you had never really thought about having kids because you both grew up in broken homes, so what happens when you find out your expecting a little one.

You felt hands running up and down your stomach as you groggily opened your eyes.

A smile crept onto your face as you realized you were in your husbands embrace.

“Good morning Dr.” you said teasingly as you shifted onto your back to look at Spence who was staring at you hair askew and mess.

“Good morning Mrs. Reid.” He said as he bent down to give you a kiss, Spencer and you had been married for almost a year now and he still loved calling you by your new last name.

“We gotta get ready for work.” He said getting up from the bed and walking over to your shared closet. His statement causing you to groan, you wanted a few more minutes to stay in bed with Spencer but you knew serial killers don’t wait.

“Im coming” you said as you got up from bed joining Spencer in the closet.

You walked out the elevator hand in hand with Spencer as you made a disgusted face at the comment Spencer had made in the elevator talking about how many micro-organisms were currently on your face.

“You couldn’t give me any other statistic Spence?” You say with a disgusted face causing Reid to chuckle.

“OHHHH, if it isn’t my favorite married couple.” You heard a familiar cheery voice say from the hallway causing Spencer and you to look up with smiles in both of your face’s already knowing who the voice belonged to.

“Pen!” You said letting go of Reid’s hand to embrace your shot of sunlight. “My sweet girl!” She said hugging you so tight you thought you’d throw up your breakfast….but the thought made your stomach queasy and when Penelope let you go you lifted your hand up to your mouth gagging a bit as you felt your saliva and mouth get hot. Clear indicators you were going to throw up, quickly realizing this you ran over to the large trash can in the hallway and hurled your insides out.

Spencer and Pen were quick to reach your side as Spencer grabbed your hair into a makeshift pony tail and pen rubbed circles on your back.

“Y/N ? Are you alright?” Spencer said as you got up wiping your mouth. You nodded “yeah I am.” You said a little confused on what caused you to throw up.

“Maybe it was something you ate for breakfast?” Pen offered a conclusion and you nodded in agreement.

Spencer seemed a little iffy but all of you agreed for that to be the case. “Ima go wash up I’ll meet you at the briefing.” You say to both of them as you walk towards the bathroom.

It was odd lately your body had been feeling different, you had been feeling more nauseous lately but you had always made rational conclusions for it, like a stomach bug or an allergy you didn’t know you had. Your breast had been sore lately but you always concluded it to Spencer and his tight grips during sex.

Spitting the sink water out your mouth you looked at your reflection in the mirror, a thought suddenly dawned on you.

Pregnant…

The word flashed into your mind causing you to look at your stomach. There was no way right? You were on the pill because you and Spencer agreed you both weren’t ready to discuss having kids yet.

However

The pill didn’t mean you were 100% free from getting pregnant. Unvoluntarily you moved your hand to your stomach feeling for something??

No you couldn’t be a mom, how could you be a mom? You didn’t have a mom growing up your mom had always been absent. She was always out in clubs, drinking and partying, and when she was home she was sleeping her hangover away and waking up just in time to go to her Waffle House night shift. Leaving you alone to take the bus to school, coming home to an empty home, not just physically but emotionally too. Your mother seemed to want to be around everyone else but you, only once had you heard I love you fall from your mothers lips towards you, and she was in her drunken state. It had been a late night after the club and she walked into your room reeking of alcohol as you read a book. She walked over falling to her knees and begging you to forgive her and she spat out I love you’s.

Yet the next morning it was like the night never happened and she didn’t even remember. Your father had died when you were 4 so you didn’t remember much of him at all. How could you be a mom if you never had one to teach you how to be one?

“Y/N?” A voice came from the bathroom door snapping you out of your thoughts. JJ stood at the door a confused expression on her face “you okay?” She asked as you walked over to her. “Yeah of course why do you ask?” You responded with plastering a smile on your face. She eyed you up and down analyzing if you were being truthful “nothing, just came to get you because were about to start the briefing.” She said as you both walked out the bathroom and towards the glass doors.

“Oh okay thank you.” You said smiling at her as she sent you a warm motherly smile.

JJ was a mom she was an excellent mom, always boasting about her kids expressing how proud she was, how much she loved them. You’d want to be like JJ if you’d ever were a mom, sometimes you’d think how lucky Henry and Michael were to have such a loving and caring mom like JJ. You’d seen how JJ would give her life up for her children how her children would be her first priority edite anything else.

“Okay since we’re all here let’s start.” Pen said as you and JJ took a seat in the round table as Pen described the case.

The case had taken a turn for the worst, the unsub was more unpredictable than any of you thought. He managed to escape from the house when Morgan broke down the door which brought you to where you were now, chasing after him in a car. Morgan drove as you rode shot gun shot gun and being his extra set of eyes. The rest of the team were in different cars taking different roads to be able to find a way to surround the unsub.

“He took a right at blíndale street!” You shouted at Morgan as he quickly turned the car right. Turning to look at the dashboard Morgan was hitting 85mph to keep up with the unsub.

“I lost him!” Morgan yelled as you looked back up to the street scanning for the blue minivan. Infront of tow cars you spotted it again as the unsub was wrong way driving. “I see him he’s over there!” You said pointing to the mini van as Morgan spotted him. Morgan turned sharply as cars began braking and beeping.

You turned your attention to the oncoming traffic spotting a 18 wheeler coming straight towards you. Your eyes widened “Morgan watch out!” You screamed as the truck got closer and you closed your eyes waiting for impact. “Hold on Y/N!” Morgan yelled putting his hand over your body like a seat belt as the 18 wheeler came tumbling towards y’all.

The strength of the hit caused the car to flip over 5 times landing on the side. Air bags hit your face and the seatbelt felt like the tightest thing around your body burning your chest with its grip. You whimpered in pain as the car stopped rolling and came to a stop. The smell of oil filling your lungs and the ringing in your ears louder than anything you’ve ever heard before. Your eyelids heavy and head throbbing you blacked out.

The coldness hit your skin as you felt goosebumps form on your arms. You felt pain shot onto your chest causing you to groan and scrunch you face, immediately there was a presence hovering over you and a voice “Honey? Honey? Can you hear me?” Spencer’s quiet voice sounded so beautiful to your ears as you slowly blinked your eyes open. The bright white fluorescent lights blinds you temporarily, you shifted your aching neck at Spencer. His eyebrows furrowed his eyes sad and desperate, his hands gripping onto yours as if he were to let go you would disappear.

“Spence?” You murmured out

“Yeah baby I’m here.” He said moving a strand of hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear.

“What happened?” Was all you could say trying to remember anything.

“There was an accident you got hit by a 18 wheeler.” He said caressing your cheek.

Memories flooded back into your mind gasping as you remembered Morgan.

“Oh my God is Morgan okay?!” You asked trying to sit up and groaning in pain. Quickly Spencer positioned you back down “hey no no no, stay still Morgan’s okay he has a broken arm but other than that he’s doing okay.” Spencer assured you causing you to relax.

“He broke his arm because of me.” You say looking at Spencer remembering how Morgan’s first instinct was to protect you.

“Because he loves you, he chose to willingly protect you. It’s not your fault.” Spencer said looking down at your chest.

Your eyes following his as you say your hospital gown had blood around your chest. Curious you pulled down the gown from your shoulders revealing a rash across your chest.

“The seatbelt caused that.” Spencer’s voice rang out.

“The seat belt saved you.” Spencer said quietly as if he was telling himself those words.

“Mr. & Mrs. Reid?” A woman’s voice came from the room door, it was a doctor.

“Yes that’s us.” Spencer said getting up from his seat as the doctor walked in to stand by your bed a smile on her face.

“I have purely good news!” The small blonde doctor beamed with a smile on her face as she opened her clipboard.

“The rash will heal in about 2 months time and we will be providing ointment for the itchiness it may cause.” She said as Spencer and you smiled.

“And no internal damage was cause to you or your baby.” She finished off as she closed her clipboard looking between you and Spencer.

The room was quiet.

Did she just say baby?

No?

Did she?

No?

You were hallucinating, you had to be… right?

“Excuse me baby?” Spencer’s voice cracked as he stared at the doctor.

“Yes… I’m sorry did you not know you were pregnant Mrs?” The blonde turned to look at you puzzled.

“N-no.” You say quickly

“You’re 8 weeks pregnant, your baby’s organs are beginning to form.” She says opening her clipboard again and looking at her medical charts for you.

“I will take my leave now, call me if you need anything.” The blonde says giving a polite smile and walking out of the room leaving you and Spencer in silence.

It was deafening quite, Spencer was frozen in place his eyes a mixture of emotions as he stared into space.

Your eyes began to swell up with tears. Memory’s of your childhood flooding your head, you couldn’t be a mom you didn’t know how to be a mom. This would end badly, what if you were like your own mom or worse? Tears ran down your cheeks like water flow.

“I’m so sorry Spencer.” You cracked out, you knew Spencer wasn’t jumping at the opportunity to have kids he had told you before he never had a dad so he wouldn’t know how to be one. Spencer loved his mom but she wasn’t a role model or 100% there all the time like she should have been.

“I’m so so sorry.” You said again bringing your hand to cover your mouth.

Spencer turned his head towards you taking in your crying face.

“Baby…shhh shhh shh.” He said sitting back down and wiping your fallen tears.

“I know you don’t want to be a dad.” You said holding his hand the rested on your cheek.

“What makes you think that?” He said his eyes pained

“You said before you didn’t have a dad so you wouldn’t want to put your own child through what you’ve been through.” You said your voice weak.

“I know baby but i know I won’t be the man my father was, because I have you. Because we’re doing this together.” He said kissing your eyelids.

“What if I’m like her.” You said looking up at Spencer.

He knew who you were talking about and he hated that you thought that about yourself.

“Baby you won’t be like her, because you aren’t her… you’ve already proven that because you show love and support to your friends, because you are able to show your love and affection through words and actions. That already proves you are nothing like her.” Spencer says rubbing his thumb up and down your cheek.

You nod your head soaking in his words.

“We’re gonna do this together.” He says smiling softly

“Promise?” You ask

“Promise.” He responds kissing you.

“Mommy mommy bedtime story!” Little Alice says as she crawls into her toddler bed you giggle as you turn the little lamp on in her room by her bed side.

“How about daddy tells you as story instead?” You say as Spencer walks into the room and smiles widely.

“Yes yes!” She says as you slide in next to her in bed.

“What about the story of Rumple Buttercup?” Spencer says sitting on the other side of Alice so she lays in between you two.

Alice giggles “that’s a weird name daddy!” Spencer smiles

“That’s the point princess Rumple is weird.” He says matching his daughter’s wide grin.

You watch both of them a smile spread across your face, you did it. Both of you, you both did it together.

You learned and grew and you couldn’t be more proud of the parents you both were.

You couldn’t be more proud of Alice your little angel your saving grace. You both had no idea how much you needed her until you both had her. You can’t imagine a world without Alice, you’d made a promise to always protect her no matter what, she was a part of you and Spencer put together.

Spencer got up from the bed snapping your attention away from your thoughts.

You looked down at a snoring Alice.

You smiled as you bent down to caress her cheek and place a kiss on her forehead “I love you angel.” You whispered as you got up and Spencer stared at you.

“What?” You smiled as he walked over to you wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You look so beautiful as a mom.” Spencer said kissing your cheek causing you to smile.

“You think so?” You teased lifting your arms to wrap around his neck.

“You’re the most beautiful woman.” He said burring his head into your neck as you both rocked in place.

Everything was so perfect.

“I love you.” He whispered into your skin.

“Thank you for everything for giving me what I didn’t know I needed.” He added as he kissed your neck affectionately.

“I love you more.” You responded tears brewing in your eyes.

No because I had so much fun writing this, it was so cute. I hope you all like this as much as I did!

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

hi there, could I get poppy playtime (if that is to many characters then just catnap and dogday are fine) with a reader that has pica (if you don't know what that is it is where a person can tend to eat or bite on things not edible, like paper, erasers, eca)

I can do a few!

.....

Huggy (saved/rescued) + Poppy

While in his "idle mode" on the podium, he sees you munching on a piece of paper like lettuce and then plush stuffing like it's cotton candy.

And then you just snatch the key from him and move onto the next puzzle, and he goes "???????"

Why did you eat those things? Did they somehow sustain your hunger?

Huggy only gets to learn more after you save him from falling (and tame him with an actual edible snack you brought along), taking a breather after freeing Poppy from her box.

When he grabs one a random paper, you assume he wants to draw something as a way to communicate...until he starts chowing it down.

In his mind, humans DO eat paper and he's been starving and cannibalizing toys (and trying to eat you) for nothing...

But then he spits it out, picking shredded bits out of his teeth, before glaring at you as if you told him to eat that.

You're a little scared and confused until Poppy explains that he was only trying to mimic what you do, and she asks why you eat such random little things.

Eventually you explain to the pair of your condition called "pica".

You've had it most of your life, with an official diagnosis to boot, but it never really hurt your digestive tract.

Over the years you've cut the habit, although being stuck in this factory meant you had to find other sources of food...even those not even considered food at all.

Some of your coworkers knew about it, and their only complaint was the occasional eraser going missing thanks to you (which you deny stealing...most of the time).

"I always joke about having a cast-iron stomach," you tell the toys. "Food is the least of my......"

But you pause and look at Huggy, realizing he might be offended by you shrugging off food as negligible to your survival.

No matter what, though, it's not gonna stop him from trying different non-food items and seeing what tastes good.

He might've eaten pieces of clothing and plush fabric/stuffing over the years, albeit none of it was delicious by itself.

Dogday

"They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin and eat away at you bit by little bit--fill what feels empty inside themselves."

"Jesus, that sounds horrific." You say as you crunch on a piece of chalk (one of several that you got from the schoolhouse) nonchalantly.

Dogday takes immediate notice and is rather concerned. He knows the chalk and crayons here are made to be non-toxic, but insists they're not safe for human consumption.

He fears it's gonna kill you and begs you to stop, saying you needed to live.

Before you could fully explain your condition, the mini-critters are closing in, so you free him and haul ass out of the playhouse of horrors.

After making it somewhere safe where you could patch him up, he presses you on why you continue to eat all these foreign objects.

But he jumps to the conclusion that you got desperate after running out of food, going mad from hunger like the other toys did...

He recalls Picky Piggy going through something similar, and he gets a bad flashback to the Hour of Joy when he had to stop her from eating Crafty's paint....and the corpse of a Smiling Critter -

"Dogday? Hey stay with me..it's okay. I'm here, I'm here.." You console him, calming him down from his panic attack. "I'm not going crazy, alright? I just have this small condition called pica."

"...p-pica? Oh. I thought...kids grow outta that.." He mutters, finding familiarity with that term.

He's had his fair share of toddlers putting things in their mouth that could be choking hazards.

You shake your head, explaining that it stuck with you, but it doesn't cause your stomach any pain as long as you're careful about what you eat.

Dogday's relieved you're not losing it.

Even so, though, he's gonna feel nervous if he catches you eating another piece of chalk.

But it's just his instincts as a child caretaker, so you couldn't blame him.

Catnap

He hangs out in the shadows for the most part, watching your every move...and he does pick up on your strange habit of eating non-food objects.

It's something orphaned toddlers in the playhouse often did, and he'd see the other Smiling Critters hurry to take the items away from them before any emergencies happened.

But those memories mean nothing to him.

All he's doing is waiting for you to eat the wrong thing and keel over.

Unfortunately for him, you just keep trudging on, munching on a crayon like it's normal before throwing your gas mask back on.

He doesn't know how you manage to stomach so many things, and honestly is kinda envious.

Why can't he and the others sustain their hunger like you did?

It does make for some rather..amusing situations, though. Such as when you're in the smoke factory and use the elevator to escape him.

You just stand there as the doors close, eating some chalk and crunching it loudly without breaking eye contact with Catnap's horrific eldritch form.

Obviously, you're stress-eating at that point, but he doesn't have to know.

Miss Delight

The schoolhouse was like a cafeteria for someone with pica, aka you.

While looking for generators, you just pick up whatever you find: erasers, chalk, crayons, etc. and start biting them, or even chewing and swallowing them.

It only succeeds in angering Miss Delight right away, as she sees you doing all of this and snaps at how "childish" you are for eating things you shouldn't.

But you when shout back that you have pica, the PA system suddenly goes quiet.

Like Dogday and Catnap, that definitely triggered some memories for her, which she dwells on for a while before realizing you were still in the school..

And seeing you eating stuff makes her howling stomach grow louder.

"Barb" says you're mocking her own hunger, especially since she notices you gathering the notes she left around the place, and insists on killing you.

When you finally do encounter her, she is visibly disturbed by you crunching on a piece of chalk and throwing it to the ground to distract her, buying you time to break eye contact and flee.

She calls you "crazy", but you're not the one chasing her with a weapon made of a ruler and colored pencils.

[pucksandpower]

Hi hi. Hope your taking care of yourself. I just want to ask on the grid kids series can i request the drivers being mistaken as grid baby's parents... like shes out with them where people dont know who they are and they get mistaken for being her parents. (you can choose any two drivers if u wanna write it)

Grid Kids: Mistaken Identities

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the grid kids learn that sometimes seeing two men with a baby can make people draw the wrong conclusions

Series Masterlist

Max and Charles: Disney Princes

“Why do I feel like we’ve bitten off more than we can chew?” Charles groans, adjusting the collar of his prince costume as they step into the magical world of Tokyo Disneyland.

Max smirks, tugging at his own princely garb. “Because you were easily swayed by a toddler. But why did I let the two of you drag me into this too?”

Your daughter skips ahead, twirling in her Cinderella dress, utterly delighted. “Princess!” She chirps, pointing to herself, and then at them, “Princes!”

Charles laughs, ruffling her hair. “Yes, yes, but remember, you owe me big time.”

Suddenly, a small horde of children swarm around Charles, their eyes wide with awe. “Prince Charming!” One of them squeals, reaching out to touch the hem of his outfit.

Max can’t help but chuckle. “Look at you, a hit with the kiddos already.”

Charles, looking mildly panicked but trying to keep his composure, kneels down, offering his best princely smile. “Hello, little ones. Are you enjoying your day at the castle?”

While Charles is surrounded, a couple approaches Max, eyes flickering between him, Charles, and your daughter. “You three make such a cute family! How long have you and your husband been together?”

Max chokes on his spit. “Oh, no, we’re not — I mean, he’s not — we’re her brothers, not fathers. And we’re definitely not together.”

The woman’s cheeks turn a bright shade of red. “Oh! I’m so sorry. My mistake.”

Charles, now free from the throng of kids, joins in, “It’s alright. Happens a lot more than you would think.” He winks at your daughter, “This princess has a way of wrapping everyone around her finger so I can see the confusion.”

Max and Charles immerse themselves in the Disneyland experience, fully embracing their roles as makeshift royalty. They take pictures, go on rides, and even join your daughter for a tea party at Cinderella’s Royal Table.

While leaving, a staff member waves, “Goodbye, Prince Charming!”

Charles raises an eyebrow, “Which one?”

Max smirks, “Clearly, they meant me.”

Your daughter grins cheekily. “Both Princes. My Princes.”

Mick and Lance: Horsing Around

“Why is she covered in hay?” Lance looks down at your giggling daughter who has a spot of dirt on her nose and straw in her hair.

Mick picks her up, attempting to brush it off without much success. “Because someone wanted to roll around with the bunnies.”

She claps her hands together. “Bunny soft! And pony! I want pony!”

A farmer passing by overhears their conversation, a knowing smile on his face. “That's how it starts, you know?” He nods towards Mick and Lance, “My daughter wanted just one pony and now look around you — turned into this whole farm.” He chuckles, looking at your daughter with fondness, “Seems history is repeating with your little one. She’s clearly got her daddies wrapped around her finger already.”

Mick chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “Oh, we’re not her dads. We’re her brothers. Just trying to spoil her a bit while we can.”

The farmer looks slightly surprised but grins, “Ah, my bad! You looked so domestic and I assumed. But a word of advice from someone who’s been through it … those little eyes? They’ll have a whole farm following you home if you’re not careful."

Lance nods in agreement, “She gets her charm from our mom.”

Your daughter, however, is undeterred. “Pony! Please, please, pony!”

Lance tries to be stern, “I don’t think Mom and Dad will let us get a pony.”

But her big eyes and pout should be illegal.

They cave instantly. “Okay, okay! We’ll see what we can do,” Mick promises.

As they head home, Mick turns to Lance, “You realize we can’t actually get her a pony, right?”

But Lance just smirks. “Watch me.”

***

Later that evening, you’re sipping tea when a rather unexpected sound catches your attention.

Neighhh.

You rush to the window, eyes widening at the sight in front of you.

Lance meets your eyes sheepishly, “So ... we might’ve made a tiny impulsive decision ...”

Mick is holding a bedazzled harness belonging to the animal in question, “Tiny? It’s not exactly a chihuahua.”

Your daughter rushes to you, grinning from ear to ear. “Look, Mommy! Pony!”

You sigh deeply, “I leave you two in charge for a few hours and apparently we now own a pony?”

Mick shrugs, “It seemed like a good idea at the time?”

Lance adds, “We just couldn’t say no to her!”

You laugh, pulling them both into a hug with your daughter sandwiched between. “You boys are impossible. When did you become such softies?”

“Just following in your footsteps,” Mick smirks. “You know, spoiling the ones we love."

Lance nods, “Guess it runs in the family.”

Lando and George: Busy Bees

“Is she ready?” Lando asks while leaning over to check his face paint in the mirror.

George adjusts his fake antennae headband. “I still can’t believe you convinced me to wear this.”

Your daughter runs in from behind them, flapping her tiny bee wings with a big smile on her face. “Bzzz! Bzzz!”

Lando laughs, “Look at you, the cutest little bee in the hive!”

He then whispers to George, “At least we match.”

George groans, “Yeah but did we really have to be flowers? It’s bad enough that she’s got me trick-or-treating for the first time in twenty years.”

As they set out, the trio attracts many admiring glances, especially when your daughter toddles up to houses, holding out her little bucket and adorably attempting a “Trick or treat!”

At one house, an older lady opens the door, gasping with delight. “Oh my! What a beautiful little family! You and your husband have done such a wonderful job. Your daughter’s costume is simply adorable!”

George’s cheeks flush under his floral face paint, “Oh, uh, we’re not a couple. We’re her brothers!”

Lando waves his hands, “Yeah! No couple here, just brothers. He’s too annoying to date anyway.”

The lady looks slightly taken aback but quickly recovers. “Oh, my apologies! It’s just so rare to see two young dads out and about. Anyways, here you go, little bumblebee.” She drops a handful of candy into your daughter’s bucket.

The night continues with more misidentifications, George and Lando taking it in stride but also bickering about who gives off more of a dad vibe.

George pokes Lando, “I told you, dressing as matching flowers makes it look like we’re together.”

Lando rolls his eyes, “You’re just embarrassed because Mrs. Thompson from three houses down thought we were a couple.”

George grins, “Well, maybe if someone didn’t m insist on holding my hand to guide me ...”

Lando splutters, “That was to stop you from tripping over a pumpkin in the dark! Besides, look, she’s having the time of her life.”

Your daughter just continues her “bzzing,” happily collecting candies and compliments.

When they return home, a mountain of treats in tow, your daughter shows off her loot with pride.

Sebastian greets them at the door, laughing as he sees their costumes. “Looking good there!”

George mumbles, “At least we’re on brand.”

Lando grins, “Exactly! Team Bee for the win!”

Your daughter, energy not even slightly dimmed, runs up and hugs Sebastian, “Daddy! Bzzz!”

Sebastian chuckles, “My little bee. Did you have fun with your brothers?”

She nods vigorously, “Bzzz!”

You shake your head in amusement. “Alright, my buzzing bee, time for bed. And you two,” you point at George and Lando, “thanks for being such good sports. Even if you did look ridiculous.”

George and Lando are already on their way to raid your vanity for makeup wipes. “Anything for our little bee,” Lando says with a wink.

The Parents and the “Parents”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, “So, Y/N, Seb ... you won’t believe how many times Max and I have been mistaken for a couple when we’re out and about.”

“Yeah,” Max chimes in, “apparently we give off strong young dads in love vibes.”

Lance sighs dramatically, “Don’t even get me started! Mick and I took her to the park a few days ago and this lady actually asked how long we’ve been married and when we adopted her.”

Mick nods, “She even recommended a couples’ yoga class for us. Said it helped her and her wife reconnect for personal time during parenthood.”

Lando, trying to stifle a giggle, pipes up, “George and I were given a book called The Ultimate Guide for Gay Dads by our new neighbor. She said it really helped her son and his husband.”

George gestures wildly, “We even got invited to the local dads’ weekly barbecue. I think we’re honorary members now.”

You burst out laughing, “Oh my god, I can’t breathe! This is priceless.”

Sebastian chuckles, “I think it’s sweet that our daughter has so many loving dads. We’re setting a new norm here.”

Max grins, “I always knew I had a paternal side.”

Charles nudges him, “More like you just can’t bring yourself to say no to her.”

Lance admits, “That’s true. Is this a good time to apologize for the pony in your backyard again?”

Everyone turns to look at Mick, who shrugs, “She has the best puppy eyes, okay?”

“It’s a gift really,” George agrees. “I tried to do the same face to Lando to get the last slice of pizza but all he did was laugh at me.”

Lando retorts, “That’s because your puppy eyes looked more like you were constipated.”

Suddenly, the laughter is interrupted by a small voice. Your daughter toddles into the room, holding a toy race car in one hand and a doll in the other. “Why do you all have funny faces?” She asks, her innocent eyes widening.

Sebastian picks her up and sits her on his knee, “Well, little racer, we were just talking about how sometimes people think that your brothers are your dads.”

She scrunches her face in confusion, “But that’s silly! They’re still your babies too. How can they be dads?”

You laugh, “You’re absolutely right, sweetheart. They definitely still act like children sometimes.”

The six indignant whines of “we do not” you get in return don’t really do much to help their case.

But you love your kids anyway. All seven of them.

[strnilolover]

Oh mah goodness, huge idea

HEAR ME OUTTT

Dealer!Chris and Soft!Reader, alright?

Soft!Reader has been going on, and on, about wanting a kitten, puppy, hamster, just something small, soft and cute!

(Everyone gets fluffy animal fever; it's understandable)

ANYWAY-

Dealer!Chris, well while he's out doin' Dealer!Chris things, he finds a kitten, it looks a little bigger than your average kitten, but he's still a lil' scrawny baby boy.

Well, Dealer!Chris sends a picture to Soft!Reader saying how cute this stupid lil' kitten is and she wants it SOOOOO BADD

LIKE, IT ISNT FUNYYYY

Well, he goes to pick the lil' silly guy up, BUT when he picks this guy up, another one comes up and this little grey one comes up as well. In conclusion, he brings both to her, and she is PREPARED.

The second she got that text she went and got stuff for said kittens, food and water bowls? Check. Litter box with a bag of litter? Check. Toys? Check. She is simply ready for these scrawny little Kittens.

Anyway, as the author you can go bananas w/ this, but this is what I imagined them to look like :3

Obviously, they're scrawnier when he picks them up, but this is what they look like when they're happier and healthier!

For names do wtv <3

chris leaned against his car as he finished texting you back. you’d been on a tear lately, going on and on about wanting something soft and small to take care of—a kitten, a puppy, even a hamster. he’d tease you about it, calling you ridiculous, but really, he loved how excited you got every time you brought it up.

so when he had stepped out of the car and spotted a tiny orange kitten sitting under a streetlight, its big eyes staring up at him, chris froze.

“hey, little guy,” he said softly, walking over and crouching down. the kitten meowed, a weak, squeaky sound that tugged at his heart. it was scrappy, a little bigger than a typical kitten but still scrawny, its fur sticking out in patches. chris grabbed his phone, snapping a quick picture before texting you.

CHRIS: you’d lose your mind if you saw this lil guy. he’s kinda scruffy, but he’s cute.

he didn’t even have time to put his phone away before it buzzed.

YOU: OMG CHRIS BRING HIM TO ME NOW.

YOU: PLEASE. I NEED HIM.

chris laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “of course you do,” he muttered to himself, reaching out to gently scoop the kitten up in his hands. but just as he did, a tiny grey fluffball stumbled out from behind a nearby dumpster, its meow even weaker than the first one’s. chris froze again, his heart squeezing.

“no way,” he murmured, his voice impossibly gentle. the grey kitten wobbled over to him, brushing against his shoe before sitting back on its haunches to stare up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

he smiled to himself, pulling out his phone once again.

CHRIS: update, the orange guy brought his little sidekick.

YOU: ARE YOU KIDDING ME.

YOU: BRING THEM BOTH. CHRIS, I’M BEGGING YOU.

he shook his head fondly, crouching down to carefully pick up both kittens. the orange one meowed indignantly but settled against his chest, while the grey one curled up in his arm like it had been waiting for this moment.

when chris knocked on your door, he barely had a chance to breathe before you yanked it open, your arms full of soft blankets and your face glowing with excitement.

“where are they?” you demanded, bouncing on the balls of your feet. chris grinned, stepping inside and gently lowering the kittens into your waiting arms. “right here, angel,” he said.

you gasped, cradling the tiny creatures like they were made of glass. “oh my God,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. “chris, they’re perfect.”

“they’re kinda scrappy,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “but i figured if anyone could make ‘em feel loved, it’s you.”you looked up at him, your face impossibly soft. “chris,” you said quietly, “you’re the sweetest person alive.”

he ducked his head, embarrassed but smiling. “yeah, well, don’t go spreading that around,” he mumbled. you set the kittens down gently on the couch, letting them explore, before throwing your arms around chris. “thank you,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest.

chris wrapped his arms around you, his chin resting lightly on your head. “you’re welcome,” he murmured softly. as the kittens began to climb over the blanket you’d spread out, you clapped your hands excitedly. “okay—we have to name them!” you say, sitting down on the couch near the tiny babies.

chris smirked, sitting down beside you. “alright, what’re we calling them?” you tapped your chin, staring at the orange kitten who was batting at the grey one’s tail. “this one,” you said, pointing to the orange fluffball, “is definitely marmalade. i mean, look at that color!”

chris chuckled. “marmalade? alright, that’s solid.” he glanced at the grey kitten, who had curled up into a tiny ball after the scuffle. “and this one?”

“hmm…” you frowned in thought before your face lit up. “smokey! because of his fur!” chris nodded, smiling softly at you. “marmalade and smokey. i like it.” you turned to him, your eyes sparkling. “they’re perfect,” you said

chris reached out to scratch marmalade behind the ears, watching as smokey batted at the edge of the blanket. “yeah,” he said quietly, his gaze flicking back to you. “they really are.”

you smiled once more, before your expression changed. “oh!—i already have everything for them!!” you stated excitedly, getting up quickly and darting off into the kitchen. you returned moments later, carrying a bag fully of cat things. food bowls, toys, cat food—you name it, you had it.

chris’ chuckled in disbelief. “baby, how did you even get all that before i got home? i had the car.” he asked, and you just giggled. “i got these delivered…as fast as i could get them delivered.” chris just smiled, nodding his head as he accepted that fact.

chris always loved seeing you so happy.

a/n : sorry it’s so short but i loved writing this (and sorry it took so long)