#its not the kids fault and i will feel bad leaving them but i just cant deal with all the other parts of the job

[thetangibleghost]

I've always wanted to wake up from a dream laughing and I just did but I realized after I woke up that I have missed a million social cues :((((((((((((((((( it wasn't even funny idk why I couldn't stop giggling. I dont even giggle irl.

[chaoticbathwater]

stressed out of my mind because a guy i know is transphobic and very misinformed on the topic and ive been trying my very best to explain things to him but its not been very effective so far and he keeps talking to trans kids and shit and in an effort to "help" them he straight up recommends conversion therapy and other things like that, and making those people extremely uncomfortable!! and because ive talked to him multiple times i feel like its my responsibility to get him to stop doing that somehow but ive literally no idea what to do!!!!! what the hell man!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[vaurien]

i need a new job

[nanivinsmoke]

✩ Grey Sweatpants

✩ dilf!toji x fem!reader

✩ warnings & tags: ovulation, age gap (readers in her mid 20s & toji is late 30s), creampie, breeding kink, overstimulation, blow job, couch sex, etc.

✩ ✩ living with your ex-boyfriend/baby daddy is a hassle, but sometimes it’s for the best.

“bye my babies! have a good day at school—I love you!” you waved from the door as you watched your kids boarded the yellow school bus; with it driving off into the distance. you closed the door and sighed, turning around to see your messy living room. you rolled your eyes and began to pick up the clothes that were strewn across the floor.

‘his ass couldn’t help me clean up before he left?’ you cursed to yourself, thinking about your lazy ass baby father.

the two of you had one child together, your daughter; tomie, who was the light of your life and the one of the only good things to come from your previous relationship. in addition to your daughter, you gained a step-child; megumi. even though you & toji never married, you considered the boy as your own—loving him like his mother should’ve.

toji and megumi were forced to move in with you after a fault wire in the house caused a fire. you had speculated that toji was the cause for it, but he kept denying it everytime.

toji stayed home most of them time, since his job didn’t need him currently and you thought having him around would be good. but, you thought wrong. he hardly helped around the house, leaving you to clean the messes that him and your children made, he hardly cooked—which you were kinda glad about; you didn’t trust him to defrost chicken. however, he was an amazing dad to your two kids and wouldn’t knock him for that.

as you swept the floor, the sound of the front door being opened and closed alerted you and you turn your head, ready to fuss at your baby daddy. “toji! when are you going to—.” toji stepped into the living room, sweaty and shirtless—and as your eyes followed a sweat bead that dripped down his chest, the hem of his grey sweatpants caught your attention; and they fixtated there.

you could see the imprint of his dick and your thighs pressed together, as you began to remember all about it and how it made you feel.

“yer’ gonna quit your staring or what?” toji’s deep voice brought you back to reality and you immediately went back to yelling at him.

“can you start fucking helping me around here? im getting swamped! its bad eno—.” he walked up to you and cut you off, holding your chin up with his hand. “alright, you take a bath and I’ll handle the house. I’ll cook something to eat too.”

never in a million years did you think toji would cook or clean for you, but you weren’t about to pass it up. you nodded and scurried off to the bathroom that was adjoined to your bedroom and immediately drew a nice bubble bath. you put in your favorite scents and even lit a few candles, before you turned off the steaming water.

peeling off your clothes, you cringed when you got to your blue panties—the coldness of your arousal stuck to your lips as you peeled it off. it’s amazed you how he could still make you feel that way, without even touching him. it’s like your body was molded for him, it craved him at every moment. and as you sat in the bathtub trying to forget about it, your body and mind betrayed you. just the thought of him freeballing in those grey sweatpants, had your nipples hardening and your cunt gushing.

toji’s body looked like it was sculpted by gods, it was perfect. the way each ab and muscle were defined was mind boggling. you found yourself laying against the cool porcelain tub, teasing your hard nipples while you pinched your clit between two of your fingers.

“fuck toji~!” you moaned out softly, the subtle pleasure coursing through your body. you stopped pinching your clit and started rubbing it, eyes rolling back as it throbbed on your middle finger. imaging toji’s fingers replacing yours on your pretty little clit had your toes curling and your cunt spasming like crazy; cumming hard as the bubbles sloshed around you.

you sat there breathless for while before you got the strength to clean your body and drain the tub. rummaging through your closet, you found one toji’s old tshirts that your kept—slipping it on along with your slippers, before walking out of your bedroom.

the smell of food cooking made your stomach growl and as you turned the corner into the kitchen, the sight in front of you made you cover your mouth with eyes. your baby daddy was standing in front of the stove, stirring up whatever food was in the pan his muscles flexing with each movement. those infamous grey sweatpants sat low, showing the start of his toned ass.

you wanted him so bad right now, you could feel yourself getting more aroused by the second—and you had to do everything in your power to stop it, despite the thumping you felt down below.

“is this a dream? never thought i would get to see you cook. it’s like a miracle,” he snickered as you teased him, still stirring up his dish; before turning the burners off.

“taste this, mama~” he called you by the old nickname he gave you and it made you melt. you opened the mouth and accepted the savory taste of chicken and rice, unable to help the moan that escaped your mouth. his scarred lips turned up into a smirk and he grabbed two bowls, making one for him and you. toji led the way to the living room, putting the bowls on the coffee table, before going back to get you both something to drink.

“after all this time, you’ve decided to finally cook. why haven’t you cooked? and you cleaned the house? what’s the reason—you think you’re getting some?” you teased and he let out a roaring laugh, scooping up a spoonful of his food, before he got serious.

“I never cooked because I knew you enjoyed it. I could tell it was a way to help you distress and unwind, the same thing with cleaning the house. this is your house, I don’t wanna mess it up—mama~” your heart warmed, you did love cooking and cleaning, especially when you were stressed. you felt bad, he didn’t consider this as his house and you never gave him the opportunity to. even though the breakup between you two was mutual, you always gave him hell.

“toji….this is your house. despite everything, i love having you here—and the kids can see it too, i think they like seeing their parents together.” you spoke softly, innocently placing your hand on his crotch. he smiled and pinched your nose, turning to drink his beer; while you stared at his pretty face.

the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the rich beverage, had you pressing your thighs together—feeling yourself get wet. your eyes traveled to where you hand was and you slowly started to rub that spot, causing his eyes to advert over to yours. he raised his eyebrow and watched you, that sexy little look on your face that he knew too well—made his dick swell.

“it’s been a while, think you can handle me still?” he asked, a smirk etched onto his lips and you nodded slowly. he put down the bear bottle and pulled you into a sloppy kiss, his tongue swirling on yours. you bit his bottom lip as you pulled away before pulling his sweatpants, making his cock spring free. he was huge, his tannish cock had nice girth to it—along with two veins running from tip to base. he looked bigger than you last remembered, and it made your mouth water; from fear and sheer arousal.

you swallowed and immediately enveloped your mouth around it, the sticky—salty taste of his precum entering your mouth, making you moan out. “shit girl, just like that~” his hand pushed your head down, making you take him deeper in your mouth. you gagged from the force, but quickly got used to it. spit, pooled and trickled out the side of your mouth, and the sounds of your lewdness echoed through the living room.

he reached over behind you, and lifted up your t-shirt, shocked to see that you weren’t wearing any panties; but even more shocked to feel how soaking wet you were. he smirked and slapped your ass, hard, making you choke on his dick—as a result of you trying to yelp. he slid his finger up and down your slit, sending chills up your body, coating his middle finger in your slick—inserting it inside of you afterwords.

the two of you moved in sync, his fingers pumping fast inside of you while you sucked his cock; hitting all the right spots. he inserted another, curling his fingers up to rub against your g-spot, while you gripped his balls, massaging them as you deep throated him.

and you both could feel each other twitching, release approaching the both of you hard—no longer able to hold back, the two of you climaxed. his creamy white load warmed up your mouth, while you creamed on his fingers. pulling back, you swallowed every last bit of his cum, savoring it as it went down, before kissing him; letting him taste himself. he pushed his fingers into your mouth letting you do the same, turning you on even more.

you stood up on the couch, hovering your cunt over his crotch, “sure you can ta—shit!~”

you cut him off as you sat down on his dick, letting him stretch you out in go. you took your bottom lip between your teeth, getting used to his size—walls clenching on him as you sat there. and when you slowly began to bounce, he couldn’t help the small moan that left his mouth. you threw your head back as you bounced on his dick, cunt creaming all over him. you were beyond wet, pussy squelching and queefing—taking his cock like a good girl.

“missed…this….—mhm—this dick~.” moaning in between your words, gripping his shoulder while you rode him, jiggling your ass ever so often. he grunted, loving how fucked out you looked—putting two fingers in your mouth; sucking them with no hesitation.

with this other hand, he sent smacks to your ass—loud popping sounds vibrating throughout the living room. toji loved your body, especially after you gave birth to your daughter. he loved how plushy and fuller you became; ass more plumper each day.

he could feel you clench down, walls moving frantically.

“that’s it mama, cum for me. show daddy how much you wanted this dick~.” toji sent another smack to your ass and you threw your head back, only for him to grab you by your cheeks; forcing you to look at him while you cum.

face contorted with pleasure and your eyes were peppered with little black spots, while you rode out your orgasm. he pulled you into a kiss once more, letting you slowly grind on him. taking you by suprise, he picked you up, sitting down on the rug beneath you and making you turn around. your phat ass was facing him and your face was deep into the soft beige couch, moaning once he pushed back into your sensitive cunt.

toji held onto your waist and watched as your ass wobbled against him, clapping with each stroke. he loved to watch it move, the stretch marks painted against the smooth skin, and the way it rippled when he thrusted into you. you eyes were rolled back to the whites, mewling as you took his dick—gripping the cushions as he rubbed that spot.

PLAP. PLAP. SMACK!

toji was slowly losing his mind from the sounds of your rough love making, his cock twitching inside of you with each stroke.

“cum for me! please—feels sho gud—“ he stuck his fingers in your mouth once again, pounding your pretty cunt sloppy.

“you looked so good pregnant with my seed—i can breed this pussy? wanna put another baby in ya” he grunted, giving you deep and powerful strokes. you mindlessly nodded your head, feeling your orgasm increasing.

his hips slammed into yours, his cock twitching before he finally released—making your belly warm with his cum. “yes daddy—fill me up so good’~” he slapped your ass, drilling your pussy while continuing to dump his milky load inside of you. he wasn’t stopping till you got yours and with his movements, you weren’t far behind.

you let out a loud moan, eyes rolling back deep into your head, cunt clenching so tight around him—you drained more ‘milk’ out of him. a powerful stream of clear fluid, pushed out of you; forcing him out with a loud queef following. toji plugged his finger up into your cunt, fingering you hard during the span of you squirting all over the run beneath you.

calming down, he pulled you by your chin and kissed you; melting into his touch.

“I’ll draw you a bath and pick up the kids, go get some rest mama” he picked you up with ease and walked you both to the bathroom.

you saw the kids off to the bus stop, forcing a smile on your face before you closed the door shut. you raced to the bathroom, to cough up the nasty warm liquid that came up—flushing the porcelain toilet. you groaned, touching your boobs which were oddly tender, and sat on the toilet. you reached into the stand beside it and pulled out two clear blue pregnancy tests.

while you waited for the results, toji came home from his morning job—body covered in hard work and sweat. “y/n? where you at mama?” he called out to you, looking around the house, only to not hear a reply. entering the bedroom, he saw the bathroom’s door halfway closed and he made his way over to it, knocking before entering.

you stood up and held the two positive pregnancy tests, folding your free arm under your chest.

“twins?” he joked and you hit his arm—giggling.

“we’re going to need a bigger place, soon.”

[from-izzy]

skating with you | nct lee donghyuck | haechan

Haechan leans his forehead to yours as your icy noses brush against each other, “Eyes on me, bubs,” he whispers.

pairing » nct lee donghyuck (haechan) x gn!reader (lmk if i missed anything!)

trope/au » established relationship au!, holiday theme!

genre » fluffy fluff fluff!, cheeky and slightly flirty haechan, and slightly flustered reader...?, cutie boyfriend haechan, no. 1 supportive and caring haechan, reader doesn't really know how to skate and haechan helps you through it, it's all so very lovely (and i need someone to help me skate-)

word count; estimated reading time » 850; ~4 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » none!

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist

is this my last upload of the year...? we shall see!!

“If I fall flat on my face, this will be your fault,” your threat only seems harmless to your boyfriend.

Haechan skates further away from you, lightly showing off his skills of skating backward gracefully, even adding light twirl patterns on the ice. Meanwhile, you’re left at the rink's perimeter, hands gripping for support and eyes squinting playfully at your delightful boyfriend. You have no idea why you thought it was a good idea to go skating when you have minimal experience and are the clumsiest person you know. But Haechan had to jut his lower lip, eyebrows shaped into mountains to your poor heart. How could you say no to that face? 

But, your weakness in saying no to your boyfriend has led you here. In the public ice skating arena. Back leaning onto the wall for dear life. 

It’s been thirty minutes yet you haven’t made much progress from the entrance of the rink. Maybe it’s your fear of falling or the fear of competent younger children snickering at you falling to your knees. Haechan has made a few rounds around, even entertaining others with little tricks. Watching him from afar made your heart warm as others realised how lovable your boyfriend is. Children reach for a high five, adults smiling at the small talk or encouragement he would send as he passes by. 

“Wanna hold my hand now?” Haechan skates beside you. 

You've rejected the last few offers, determined to do at least half of the oval rink by yourself; you and the wall beside you. But balancing yourself on a somewhat thin metal as your knees shake with tensed muscles is taking more energy than you expected. 

You give in, slumping your back on the wall, elbows propped up as you lean. “I just need to rest first.”

Haechan chuckles at you, making a final push on the ice to skate to you. His arms cage you between his frame, closing significant space between you both. Your eyes widen at his bold action, cheeks and neck heating at the fond eyes he’s placing upon your orbs. His eyelashes flutter prettily upon your features, a soft smile forming its way into your boyfriend’s place. The rowdy noises of the kids, metal swishing and passing behind Haechan all blur when Haechan steadies your once-leaning figure to stand with his hands securely encasing your waist. 

It’s too bad that the cold temperature has you bundled up in a few layers or else you could feel the relaxing motion of his thumb caressing your side.

Haechan leans his forehead to yours as your icy noses brush against each other, “Eyes on me, bubs,” he whispers.

As per his words, you lock your eyes with him, only closing them once or twice when you’re fully supported by him. Your forearm instinctively rests on top of his, occasionally pushing them down due to your nervousness, still afraid of slipping and toppling over Haechan, potentially hurting both of you in the process.

“Don’t worry,” he eases your mind, pressing a quick kiss on your colder lips. “You’re going to be alright,” pressing his lips to yours again, leaving them there for a bit longer. “I’m not going to let you fall,” perfectly stealing your lips once more after you hum an acknowledgement to his words. “If you fall, it’s only going to be in my arms.”

You should’ve known he would sneak in a cheesy line or two, and your laughter makes you forget your anxiousness about being on the ice. Slowly, Haechan skates backwards again, this time with you in his hold. Admittedly, this has been his plan from the very start: to have you close like this as you conquer your fear and challenge; you’re not going to complain about this either.

Haechan is a great skating teacher, pulling and guiding you out of your comfort ice. Both of you dance in the rink for an hour together. It starts with you facing him as he distracts you from paying too much attention to what your body is doing, instead prompting you to naturally let you relax into the situation. Then slowly, he takes his place next to you, his palm holding your forearm. Then, linking hands together for the final stage before he lets you go after you find the confidence to brave the environment once more. 

You almost lost your balance for a while, hunching your back to hold your knee. “You can do it!” Your boyfriend hollers encouragement behind you. Soon those words become more familiar, your proud boyfriend behind you stealing everyone’s attention at your successful solo skating. 

You did a full lap with no support from him or the wall. You leap into Haechan’s arm at the end line, Haechan littering kisses all over your face. The golden hour highlights his face, his smiling beaming further from the rays of the sun.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have been such a good teacher. And you shouldn’t be so talented either!” Your eyebrows raise at his words, unsure of where he’s going, “Now, you won’t need my help anymore…”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist

tags: @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet @ncity-net

@haneul-and-clouds

[starry-bi-sky]

Childhood Friends Danny and Jason

(cw underage smoking / smoking as a form of bonding) (cw Jason thinking Danny killed himself but its only for a moment) (cw depictions of murderous intent? Danny wants to murder the Joker and he's a little descriptive about it)

Now on ao3 :) (and with a response and a third one)

AND ALSO A REMASTERED VERSION THAT YOU SHOULD TOTALLY GO CHECK OUT BECAUSE I WORKED VERY HARD ON IT.

This is… aha. Massive. Word count check: 9k+

this has probably been done before but hey, everyone loves a good trope and I wanted to share my take on this idea. 👏👏 So, Danny Fenton and Jason Todd being childhood friends. The Fentons lived in Crime Alley for a good long while during Danny's childhood. Nobody wanted to fund their research and Jack and Maddie struggled to keep any form of work for a multitude of reasons. Jack worked in construction due to his big build and Maddie had another job elsewhere.

Danny and Jason were friends during that time, really great friends. I'm not super solid on how they met yet but I do know it involves Danny committing petty crime and Jason deciding to jump in and help when he sees Danny struggling. Danny was distrustful (as all crime alley kids ought to be) but they eventually became thick as thieves, committing petty crime together.

While it's all too easy to make Danny the weaker one of the two with Jason protecting him, I actually really like the idea that they protected each other. Growing up (essentially) on the streets means Danny forcibly had to grow a backbone unless he wanted to get trampled all over. He is just as willing to scuffle with the bigger kids as Jason is, and he and Jason regularly fought each other whenever they needed to let off steam, or just because. They were a duo, having each other's backs in tough situations.

(Sometimes the pair of them would sneak out at night and try and get a glimpse of Batman and Robin while they soared through the air. It was like a game between the two of them to see who could spot the dynamic duo first. When they were a little older, Jason would steal his dad's cigarettes and share them with Danny while they searched for Batman and Robin)

So when Danny has to move away when they're eleven years old, it's pretty safe to say that Jason didn't speak to him for a week afterwards. Nothing Danny did could persuade him to otherwise, even when Danny insisted that it wasn't his fault and that he didn't want to move away either, but he didn't have a choice in the matter.

When the week was over, Jason climbed through Danny's window and sat in his room, dead silent and looking upset. he didn't speak until Danny fished out a stolen pack of cigarettes from his bed and handed one to Jason.

(It was a ritual they had where if one of them was upset about something but wasn't saying anything, the other one could then hand them a cigarette -- whether it be the one they were using or a new one -- and that would be an open invitation for the person to vent. The other one who handed him the cigarette wouldn't speak until the venter handed back the cigarette. Then back and forth it would go until the cigarette was gone.)

Jason ranted about how pissed he was about Danny moving, and they promised to try and stay in touch after he leaves. Neither of them had phones, but Danny was determined to send him a letters.

Danny moves to Amity Park and it's... an adjustment, that's for sure. He's angry, grumpy, upset, and every other negative feeling under the sun. He was going to a new middle school with new people he didn't know, away from all of the people he did know and away from his best friend.

(He does however keep his word about sending letters, and mails one out to Jason at the first opportunity.)

He refuses to get along with anyone, butts heads with the teachers, is combative, rude, and openly smokes in class -- which gets him plenty of detentions and a bad reputation. He speaks in a thick Gotham street accent and wears hand-me-down clothes that are too big and baggy on him. (His parents have yet to replace any of their wardrobes as they settle into their new life, and Danny is hesitant to spend the money to get new clothes.)

He only manages to befriend Sam and Tucker because one of the football kids was bullying Tucker and Danny stepped in. It was some blond jerk named Dash and when Dash threw the first punch, Danny broke his nose. Tucker found him later that day and reluctantly thanked him for his help.

Sam and Danny do not get along for the longest time. Sam questions Danny about his upbringing, his accent, his smoking. She judges him for talking back to the teachers despite doing it herself and for ruining his lungs with cigarettes. Danny tells her to fuck off, and when she tries to judge him and Tucker for not being vegetarian, he calls her a privileged brat.

Sam doesn't even look at him for two weeks after, and Danny refuses to apologize. Tucker is caught between a rock and a hard place as his old friend and new friend are feuding with each other.

They... sort it out eventually.

Danny and Jason send each other letters near religiously. Danny complains about Amity Park, and Jason complains about how Crime Alley isn't the same without him. Danny talks about the school and what he's learned, about Sam and Tucker, and how he's been getting into the astronomy books in the library. He steals Jason a book and sends it to him.

When Jason tells Danny that he was adopted by Bruce Wayne, Danny calls bullshit. There's no fucking way Bruce Wayne would even look at Crime Alley, regardless of his charity efforts towards it. But when he checks Gotham news later that week, he's hit in the face with every single news article announcing Bruce Wayne's newest ward; Jason Todd.

Cue freaking out. Jason talks all about living in Wayne Manor and what it's like there. He says that there's a monster library in a part of the house that Bruce says he has free reign over, and that Jason can have anything to eat as long as he asks Alfred to make it and it isn't a desert, and that he has his own monster-sized room that he got to pick out himself and decorate.

(When they both get phones, the first thing either of them do is add each other's numbers.)

When Sam complains about having to go to a Wayne Gala that her parents are dragging her to one weekend, the first thing Danny asks is if he can go with. It surprises Sam and Tucker; Danny was the last person they would have thought wanted to go with. HE hates the rich even more than Sam does. Danny stands firm in his decision, and refuses to elaborate.

"Besides." He says to Sam, with whom he's begun to get along with via 'the enemy of my enemy is a friend'. "Would you rather go alone or with someone you can tolerate?"

She brings him with and convinces her parents to allow Danny to come along, citing that she'll be on her best behavior if they do. They agree, and buy Danny a suit when he says that he doesn't have one of his own.

(He discovers that he hates wearing suit jackets and ties, but vests he doesn't mind. He doesn't like that he has to comb his hair back, but he does to make Sam's parents happy. They give him a crash course in etiquette that Danny's going to forget the next day, and soon enough off they go in a private jet to Gotham)

(he does not tell Jason he's coming.)

he feels mischievous and nervous as they touch down, his stomach swirling as Sam's parents usher them to a high-profile hotel that Danny's only ever dreamed about going into. He feels largely out of place as they walk through the lobby, and falls back on old habits: square shoulders, set jaw, make yourself look like the biggest person in the room.

They get ready in the hotel room, Sam's parents primp and preen for the night incoming, and Sam is dragged into it by her mother. Danny does only what's required of him, and fiddles with the sleeves of his fresh-ironed button-down that's been tailored to his body. He's itching for a cigarette, and didn't bring any with.

Sam's dad helps him with his tie, a bout of kindness that Danny doesn't think is one. Just obligation to prevent Danny from looking like a mess. Sam pesters him again about wanting to come, and his reasons for it, and Danny keeps mum.

He's stone-faced with anxiety as they get closer to the gala, and before they leave the limousine the Mansons rented Sam links arms with him. A form of solidarity that Danny needs as he squeezes their arms together and smiles weakly at her.

The paparazzi are loud, bright, and demanding, shouting questions over questions at them like overlapping tidal waves. Danny ignores them all and focuses on the front doors instead. Sam's parents whisper at the stairs that they are to greet the Waynes first, and Danny's heart leaps to his throat.

His heart is in his ears as they drift closer, Mister Wayne is preoccupied with another rich couple, smiling that charming billionaire smile that Danny saw on every billboard in Gotham, and then some in Amity Park. Getting so close to him feels unreal.

And there by his side is the one and only Jason Todd, who isn't even trying to hide the bored look on his face as he watches Bruce interact with the other adults. He's gotten taller in the year they've been away, and healthier. His hair looks like its been cut professionally and he doesn't look as street kid skinny.

Danny's arm, hooked with Sam's, tightens up, and he resists the urge to rush forward and hug Jason. He watches Jason's eyes sweep left, away from him, and then right, towards him. The air stills for a moment as their eyes lock.

Danny grins toothily at him, lopsided and playful in nature, and sees the moment Jason processes the sight before him. His arm starts slipping out of Sam's at the same time as an ecstatic smile stretches across Jason's face.

His lopsided grin fills out on the other end. "DANNY!" Jason yells, cutting off whatever Bruce Wayne and startling everyone within earshot. There's barely a moment for Bruce to look down when Jason shoves past him and runs at Danny.

Danny yanks his arm out of Sam's, "JASON!" He yells with just as much enthusiasm, and Jason nearly topples them right over when he collides with Danny. His arms wrap around Danny's shoulders, holding onto him tightly, and they're both laughing, spinning around like tops out of joy.

"You didn't tell me you were coming!" Jason cries, sounding accusing. Danny hugs him just as tightly, and laughs when Jason pulls away momentarily to punch his shoulder.

"I wanted it to be a surprise!" He defends, laughing between words as their spinning comes to a stop. They're both reluctant to pull apart, but they do and clutch the sleeves of their elbows tightly. "How could my best friend be adopted by the Bruce Wayne and have me not come confirm it with my own two eyes?"

"I sent you newspaper clippings!" Jason says, narrowing his eyes while his smile betrays his face. Danny quietly notices that his Gotham street accent is faded slightly.

"Oh that's what it was?" Danny's grin turns again, edging into a smirk. He feigns innocence, "I thought that was fire kindling." He has the newspaper clippings hung on the corkboard in his room, proud beyond words about his best friend.

Jason punches him in the shoulder again, hard enough to leave a bruise. "You jackass." He says, ignoring Danny's laughter even when he's holding back his own.

There's a soft, sharp clearing of someone's throat, breaking their attentions away from each other to the one that made the noise.

Bruce Wayne was a tall man, taller than Danny expected, and he looks exactly like his billboards. If less promiscuous than his perfume ads. Danny expects him to be upset with them both for disrupting his pretty rich gala, but instead he just looks gently amused, with an arched eyebrow. Overall though, he just looks fond.

Danny would be the first to admit that Bruce had taken in Jason as a charity case, something to fill the void after his other kid Dick Grayson finally moved out. But Danny’s a good judge of character — or he likes to assume he is — and those are not the eyes of a man who would take Jason in as a charity case. Those are the eyes of a man who actually, genuinely, cares about one Jason Todd.

The wriggly protective thing settles in his chest.

He doesn’t let go of Jason, but he does twist his smile into something a little more polite. Mister Wayne’s eyebrow arches higher, and he turns his blue-blue eyes onto Jason. “Who’s this, Jason?” He has that fancy Gotham Elite accent -- something that sounds like a mix between old transatlantic and faintly British -- that Danny's only heard in passing when he and Jason snuck up to the nicer parts of Gotham.

Jason stares at Mister Wayne, his grip on Danny tightens as his eyes flick to the other onlookers in the room. “This is Danny, B.” He says once his eyes turn back to Mister Wayne. “We grew up in Crime Alley together, he moved to Illinois last year."

Danny can see the uncomfortable expressions cross every rich person's face, murmurs sweeping across the room as soon their uncomfortable gazes turned judgmental and flinty. He's kept track of the tabloids after Jason's adoption, the ones calling him a charity case and looking down on him for being a street kid.

He inches a little closer to Jason, straightening up instinctively, as if they were back in Crime Alley and facing a pack of kids that didn't like them. He can see Sam's surprised expression from the corner of his eye -- he never told Tucker or Sam about where he grew up, although he's sure they had their suspicions.

He looks back to Mister Wayne and meets his blue-blue eyes, his smile has slowly begun to fade. Mister Wayne doesn't miss a beat however, and his smile stays plastered to his face. If anything, it gets a little softer, a little wider. "It's nice to meet you Danny -- Daniel? I'm so glad that Jason has a friend here." He holds out a hand.

Danny eyes him unsurely, and then takes his hand. "It's jus' Danny, Mister Wayne." He says, some of his old accent slipping through as he shook his hand firmly. He would have done it harder, but this was Jason's new guardian, and from Jason's letters he didn't sound too bad. "It's, uh, nice to meet you too. Jason's told me lots about you."

Mister Wayne's brows jump momentarily, he looks intrigued. He looks between Danny and Jason, and claps his hands together softly. "Well, Jay, how would you like to stay with Danny for a while, hm? I'm sure you too have a lot to catch up on."

Hope simmers in Danny's heart, and he glances to Jason to see that same hope on his face. "Really?" He asks, and Mister Wayne nods with a laugh.

"Of course! How could I keep two friends apart? Go on ahead, chum. I'll come get you when the gala ends."

And just like that, Bruce Wayne leaves Jason with Danny, diving back into a conversation with one of the rich gothamites and taking the attention with it as if he were the sun and everyone else a planet orbiting him.

Danny and Jason share grins, and throw their arms around each other with laughter. Danny is on cloud nine, pressing his nose into Jason's shoulder and breathing him in, fingers digging into the back of his suit hard enough to leave wrinkles in his jacket.

Sam demands answers when they finally, for real this time, pull apart. Why didn't he tell her that he was friends with Jason Todd!? Danny slings his arm around Jason's shoulders and keeps him close, and tells her that it was because he wanted it to be a surprise.

Sam's parents have unreadable expressions on their faces, part greed -- Danny is their in to the elusive Bruce Wayne -- and part disdain -- a Gotham street rat. Danny ignores them, they're unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

He introduces Sam to Jason, and Jason to Sam. And off they go to a corner of the room near the buffet table where they can eat and shit talk everyone else in the room in peace.

At some point in the night Sam is called back to her parents to meet some other fancy rich kids her parents want her to get along with, and Danny and Jason go off to the west end balcony to avoid anyone who may try and approach the new Gotham ward.

Danny hops up onto the balcony railing, kicking his feet as Jason pulls a cigarette pack out of his inner jacket pocket, and grins. "Don't tell Bruce," he says, handing the box to Danny first. "He's been trying to get me to quit."

"Hah!" Danny takes one just as Jason slips out a lighter. "That sounds like Jazz. She's been trying to get me to stop since we moved to Amity." Granted, she's been trying ever since she found out before they moved, but now she was even more insistent. "She hasn't found my stash yet."

At the end of the night when the Mansons are leaving and Danny has to leave with them, he walks back to Mister Wayne with Jason to tell him that he's leaving. Mister Wayne mourns his going, and tells him that he's always able to come visit.

"Any friend of Jason's is always welcome to the manor." He says with a blinding grin, pulling Jason close to his side and squeezing him tight. Jason's nose scrunches up, but he doesn't push away.

It becomes a new routine for them. The Mansons are all too happy to bring him with to the Wayne Galas (of which they start receiving more invites to due to their connection with Danny) and Danny is all too happy to spend the evening with Jason again. No matter what, they always end up on the balcony at some point in the night.

And, eventually, Danny is invited to stay at Wayne Manor either for a weekend or for a break. He jumps at the chance when winter break rolls around and his parents start their debate over Santa Claus again.

Danny and Jason stay up late into the night talking or playing video games during their sleepovers, and in the warmer nights they climb out and onto the roof to stargaze. Danny points out constellations - - things he can find in neither Gotham or Amity -- and rambles on and on about space.

There are plenty of times during the Wayne Galas that the event gets attacked by a rogue. More often than he'd like he loses Jason in the crowd, and has later stopped Robin or Batman in his panic to find him.

The first time it happened, he was in tears with terror. He grabbed onto Batman's cape, stopping the man from going back in as he babbled that his Jason Todd was still inside, that he disappeared during the chaos and he couldn't find him. Batman took his hands and calmly told him that he'd find Jason for him, and that he was sure he was okay, but he needed to calm down.

He found Jason later once everything had calmed down, and he screamed at him for disappearing during a rogue attack, if he ever did it again he'll kill him. Then he cried.

The second time it happened, Danny didn't even realize that Jason was gone until everything was already over. They'd been separated before the attack happened. He stopped Robin and Batman before they could leave, trying to keep his breathing under control as he asked again, if they had seen Jason Todd.

"That- that asshole keeps fucking ditching me when these things happen." His voice has an embarrassing wobble in it. "Please-- please tell me you've seen him, that he's alright."

Robin this time steps up to reassure him, that Jason Todd was out of the building. He got him out. "He's probably looking for you too, uhhh..."

"Danny" Danny says, and eyes him up and down. "You're the new Robin right?"

Robin stilled up, and Danny could understand it a little. He'd seen the thoughts on the new Robin online. He wasn't very popular at first. Robin nods curtly, and Batman was shuffled a little closer to him, almost protectively.

Danny grins at him. "Cool." He says, "Me and Jay used to sneak out onto the rooftops sometimes to try and spot Batman and the first Robin, we made it a game." He holds out a fistbump, "Thanks for doing what you do, man. I might not live in Gotham anymore, but I mean it. You're a living legend."

Robin looks like there's something stuck in his throat, and after a beat he returns the fistbump tentatively. "Th- uh, thanks." He stumbles out awkwardly, and then turns away, "Me and B- uh, better go."

Before Danny could even respond, Robin already had his grapple in hand and was grappling away. "You too, Batman." Danny says before Batman can follow.

When Danny sees Jason after that, and weight lifts off his chest and he hits him in the arm again. And then complains that he should have gotten Batman and Robin's autograph, it would have been epic.

By the fifth time it happens, Danny is cussing up a storm when Robin saves him, cursing out Jason and claiming that he needs to put that boy on a fucking leash. "We're a duo!" He scowls when Robin gets him outside, "I got his back, he has mine! I can't have his back when he's got no back to fucking have."

The eighth time it happens, Danny gets held hostage by one of the henchmen. He's become a recognizable friend of the Waynes, and when the Waynes are nowhere to be found, then the next best thing was up to offer. Danny isn't even mad this time around -- just relieved that Jason was fucking off somewhere where he couldn't get hurt.

Robin, however, seemed furious when he arrived, and broke the hostager's jaw with a single flying kick to the face. Jason found him rapidly quick soon after the situation had settled, and apologized over and over again.

Danny slings an arm around his shoulder and laughs that it was fine, Robin saved the day! His legs were shaking with the worn off adrenaline, something he tried to hide from Jason. "I'm just glad it was me instead of you, Jay." He grins. Jason looks like he swallowed a toad.

Jason stops disappearing as often after that, sticking close to Danny's side until the attack was over.

When Danny is fourteen, Jason dies, and his world unravels.

He calls the manor on a late night in April after Jason had stopped responding to his texts. Danny knew that Jason was just recently in a fight with Bruce, but he knows that Bruce loves Jason. He would know where he is, right?

When he calls, Bruce answers with a hoarse "hello?" as if he'd been crying all day, and Danny's blood turns to ice. The anxiety he'd been feeling beforehand doubles in size, and he feels himself stammering.

"Mister- uh- Mister Wayne? Um, I'm calling because Jason--" he hears Bruce inhale sharply on the other line, and his anxiety skyrockets into fear. "--hasn't been answering any of my texts and- and I'm gettin' real worried."

There's silence on the other end, and Danny feels a rock forming in his throat, gross and heavy like he was on the verge of throwing up. "Mister- Bruce? Mister B?"

There's a shaky breath, and then Bruce's voice crackles through the phone. "Um-- Jason, he, he's--" there's a sound like rustling, "he's been killed."

Danny's vision whites out with skyrocketing terror, his mind skidding to a stop. His body rapidly grows hot, and then chills, like a blacksmith striking a heated weapon. "What?"

When the phone call ends, Danny screams himself hoarse. Jazz and his parents come running into his room, his parents equipped with ghost weapons. Instead, they find Danny curled up in his bed, sobbing hoarsely.

Danny almost -- almost -- refuses to attend the funeral, nearly paralyzed with grief. Jazz coaxes him to go, to find closure if anything else, and he drags himself out of bed to go.

He feels numb the entire time. It's closed casket, so he can't even see him for one last time before Jason is buried in the ground. He's silent, and if he think he looks bad, then Bruce looks even worse, like he hadn't slept since Jason died and worse.

Danny grabs his sleeve before he leaves, and when Bruce turns to him with a dull look in his once vibrant eyes, he clings to him tightly. And cries. Bruce clings back just as tight, Danny feels tears drip into his hair.

"Who did it." Danny whispers, voice too hurt to speak any louder, when he pulls back. His fingers curl around Bruce's jacket tightly, desperately. His eyes hurt with tears. "You said he was murdered, B. Please, who did it."

Bruce looks down at him, and for the first time it really does feel like he's looking down at him. His face is blank, and his eyes close in grief. There is no answer, a silent no.

Danny's face twists up all ugly like, and he shakes Bruce's jacket. "Bruce, please. Tell me who did it."

Bruce refuses, his face full of grief.

Danny never returns to Gotham.

Prior to Jason's death and post their reunion, Danny had slowly begun to improve in school. He started caring more, he was putting in more effort, he was doing his homework and was actually enjoying class. There was the bullying from Dash and the A-Listers, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle, he was ignoring them for the most part.

Come Monday after the funeral, and Danny breaks Dash's nose when he starts up with his shit. He withdrew into himself, and it was like he was back to square one again, except this time it was much worse.

Everyone knew Danny was close friends with Jason Todd. So when news of his death finally reached the ears of Amity Park, the students of Casper High School kept their distance.

That following Friday, Danny dies in the portal and comes back. A month later he becomes Phantom, the ghost-fighting ghost. the ghost Phantom wears his hazmat suit partially undone, showing a tanktop he didn't wear in death under the initial suit while the sleeves are tied around his waist. Vicious, glowing lichtenburg scars travel up his arm and neck and torso, covering half of his face while a pair of scientist-like goggles covers his eyes. He's bitter and angry, showing off his death.

Look at me, Phantom's form says, I am a dead child. Look at me look at me look at me. Mourn me. I am a dead child. LOOK AT ME. MOURN ME.

A few weeks later he enters the ghost zone and realizes that he could find Jason. And he spends a weekend scouring the ghost zone for him. He finds Gotham in the zone, and rather than finding Jason, he finds Robin.

Danny didn't know he'd died. And he flies towards him, asks him if he's seen Jason, reveals that it's him, Danny Fenton. Robin stares at him, mouth agape, and peels off his mask to reveal Jason Todd.

They both cry, and when Danny tells him how he died, Jason looks pale in the face. "You didn't- you didn't kill yourself because of me, did you?"

Danny fervently denies it. No, no. He didn't, he didn't. It was an accident. Totally unrelated. But enough about that, what the hell happened? Bruce wouldn't tell him anything at the funeral.

Jason clams up, his ghostly face losing its color, and Danny curses himself. He tells Jason that he doesn't have to tell him, he doesn't have to say anything. They sit in silence.

"It was the Joker." Jason says.

That's all Danny needs to know. He nods quietly. 'I'll kill him.' He thinks to himself, a stubborn set in his jaw. "Okay."

It had always been a plan; a thought wriggling in the back of Danny's mind ever since Bruce told him that Jason had been killed.

Not died. Killed.

Danny wanted the fucker dead the moment he realized it. He just needed to know who did it. He thinks Bruce knew it too, could probably see it in his eyes the moment Danny asked him who did it. He isn't sure if he should hate Bruce more for keeping it from him now.

They spend hours together, just soaking in each other's presence. Danny tries to take him through the ghost portal, to bring him back to the land of the living. But much like Kitty, Jason's form is tied to the zone. Danny promises to visit every day.

And he does. Or he tries to. The grief doesn't go away, but with the comfort of knowing that Jason was on the other side, Danny feels a little better. He tells Jason about being Phantom, and Jason helps train him. It feels like they're kids again and are fighting just because they want to. Its a bout of familiarity in a place that feels unfamiliar. All they need are cigarettes.

And then six months later he loses him again. Danny scours the ghost zone for him for the second time, and this time he doesn't find him.

His haunt is still in the zone though. He didn't move on. He's still here, somewhere.

Danny is convinced that Jason was in the Elsewhereness, and looks for him in between ghost fights and his social life. He visits Jason's haunt every day, knowing that Jason should be able to feel when another ghost enters his home. He does not show up.

(He never thinks that Jason came back to life, and Jason doesn't remember his time in the ghost zone)

When Danny is nineteen, Vlad Masters blackmails him into going to another Wayne Gala. Begrudgingly, Danny goes. He's taller than he used to be, having inherited his dad's monstrous height and his mom's leanness. He has piercings, some of them he got after a lost bet from Sam and Tucker, and he's given himself an undercut.

He still prefers vests over suit jackets, and he still smokes. A little less than before, he sneaks a pack into his pocket before he leaves, along with a lighter. Vlad gives him a dirty look the whole time - he knows.

"Don't give me that look." "That stuff kills, you know" "I'm already dead."

It's like deja vu when he arrives; an awful bout of deja vu, that is. The paparazzi is still as bright and loud and annoying as it always was, and they don't recognize him at all. Something he thinks of as a soft mercy up until one of the reporters asks Vlad who he is.

Vlad smiles and tugs Danny into the camera frame, "Why, this is my godson!" He crows, and shoots Danny a look that is downright smug I'm sure many of you may know him as Daniel Fenton?"

If looks could kill, Vlad would be ash. Danny isn't quite sure why he still agreed to this -- blackmail or no. He felt itchy being in Gotham; jumpy. He's never forgotten his vow to kill the Joker, in fact it was something he still desperately wants.

But the threat of Rath, the name he chose for his evil future self, haunts him just as much as his murderous intent. If he kills the Joker, would he stop?

Danny's almost afraid of what he'll do if he ever lays eyes on the Joker in person. He doesn't think he'll be able to stop himself from wrapping his hands around that stupid clown's neck and watching the light leave his eyes.

He pushes the thoughts to the side, and smiles lopsidedly as cameras and microphones flood his face, reporters yelling over themselves as they clamor to get a shot of the old Wayne family friend.

Danny turns and walks inside without answering a single question, flexing his fingers in and out of fists. Vlad gracefully hurries after him, and Danny can hear his glare burning into his back.

"You told me to come," Danny hisses to him once he's beside him, meeting Vlad's gaze piercingly, "not that I should play nice."

"Don't embarrass me, Daniel." Vlad hisses back, trying to look the upmost calm as eyes turn onto them. "I'll make you regret it."

"You embarrass yourself, fruitloop." Danny shoots back, walking away before Vlad could get a retort in. He sees Bruce Wayne on the other side of the room.

His heart seizes with nostalgia. He hasn't seen Bruce since Jason's funeral, hasn't spoken to him either. He doesn't know how to feel about him, but he'd been keeping tabs on Bruce both as himself and as Batman.

Danny's feet carry him forwards before he can think about it, silently weaving between the throng of rich people vying for his attention. It's only when he gets closer does he see the little shadow clinging to his side: Damian Wayne.

The newest little bird, Danny realizes, and stifles a smile at the surly expression on Damian's face as two older women coo over him. He reminded him of Sam, who had long since stopped coming to these things the moment she was able to.

The feeling of eyes on him turns Danny's attention away from Damian, and instead finds them back on Bruce's, who stares at him with a little furrow between his brows. As if he recognized him, but he wasn't sure from there.

Danny grins crookedly the moment he's within earshot. "Mister B!" He exclaims, slipping into what remained of his Gotham street accent. Recognition flashed in Bruce's eyes, and the man smiled widely. "Long time no see, old man."

"Danny," Bruce says, his name breathing out like relief. He slips between the crowd surrounding him -- who are now watching Danny -- and pulls Danny into a close hug. "It's good to see you again."

Danny hesitates for a moment -- he wasn't expecting Bruce to hug him -- and returns the gesture. "It's good to see you too, Bruce." He admits. Bruce was still using the same cologne that he did when Danny was a kid. He blinks heavily.

He pulls away quickly, clapping Bruce lightly on the shoulder as Damian quickly latches onto his father's side again. Damian glares daggers at him, fingers digging into Bruce's pantlegs like a possessive little kid.

He made Danny's ghost sense tingle in the back of his throat, creeping up slowly like a spider before stopping suddenly before it reached his mouth. It hummed, and then disappeared.

Danny smothered a frown. Since when did Batman work with ectoplasm? “This must be Damian." He says to Bruce, and holds out a hand to Damian -- he doesn't crouch, he had a feeling that Damian would be less than appreciative if he did that. "You've really expanded the nest since the last time I saw you."

Damian's eyes narrow at him. Bruce laughs lightly, "Ah yes, Tim is around here somewhere. I'm sure you'll see him soon."

"Father," Damian says, his voice layered with an accent. He glares up at Danny with piercing green eyes. "How do you know this man?" He sounds distrustful, Danny respects that and drops his hand.

"This is Danny Fenton." Bruce says, and Danny lets him introduce him. "He was Jason's friend."

An expression similar to bewilderment flashes briefly over Damian's face, and he eyes Danny in disbelief. "Todd had friends?"

Oh. So that's how he wanted to be. Bruce had a little elitist on his hands. Danny's smile drops like a deadweight, and any lingering endearment he had hardens like ice in his chest, fury slowly taking its place like a flickering candlelight. "It's not polite to speak ill of the dead, Mister Wayne." He says coldly, his voice made of chips of ice.

Damian blinks, the disbelief disappearing from his face. The closest thing to a recoil Danny thinks he's going to get. He doesn't care. No one speaks about his best friend that way.

"I grew up with Jason, actually." He continues, breathing in slow and deep, trying to keep the ghostly possessive-protective-rage under control. "I was his best friend."

He turns, almost robotically, towards Bruce, and tries not to look so angry. "I'm going to go find Tim, Mister B." He says, and tries to offer up a weak smile for the man. It comes out as a grimace instead.

"And..." he pauses, flicks his eyes towards Damian, and then looks at Bruce. "I'll... try and keep in contact, B. Tell Dick I said hi, alright? I'll see you in a little bit."

Bruce nods, looking vaguely disappointed and sighing slow through his nose. Danny walks away as Bruce turns to address his youngest, and doesn't bother listening in on what he has to say.

He does, eventually, find Tim Drake. He spots him in a crowd instantly - it's hard not to, and he makes his way over to him. He's not sure Tim Drake would recognize him, Bruce didn't at first and Danny had been around him constantly.

Except Tim Drake does recognize him, much to Danny's surprise. They lock eyes and Tim immediately makes his way over to him. "Danny Fenton!" He says and stops in front of him, "What a surprise, we weren't expecting you tonight."

"Tim Drake," Danny replies, smiling a little as his earlier hurt begins to fade away. "I'm surprised you know me."

"There are pictures of you in the manor with Jason." Tim explains, stuffing his hands into his pockets with an easy-going smile. "It's hard not to know you."

"It’s hard not to know you too,” Danny retorts, a sly smile slowly spreading across his face. “Although you’re a lot taller than you used to be, when you were lurking around Bruce and Jason and I.”

Ohhh Danny recognizes him alright. One part due to all the news articles and tabloids on him after he was adopted by Bruce, and the other part because he remembers the little shadow lurking near plants pots and table legs that used to follow him and Jason around at galas just like these.

Knowing that Jason was Robin, he wonders if Jason knew he was there too.

The effect is immediate: Tim’s eyes grow comically large, and a red tint glows at the tip of his ears as he shrinks back like a turtle trying to hide into its shell. “You— you noticed that!?” He hisses.

“I did!” Danny grins, large and wide, stifling a laugh as the red tint spreads over Tim’s cheeks and nose. He looks mortified. Danny coos. “Aww, I thought it was adorable that Jason had a little shadow. I’m sure he would have loved you if you had just come over and said hi. He had a big soft spot for kids.”

Tim snorts and it— it almost sounds derisive? “Sure he would.” He looks sad, and the mirth in Danny’s chest shrivels up like a flower without light. The smile fades from his face, and all that’s left is a strange, staunch reminder that Danny and Bruce weren’t the only ones that probably mourned.

He touches Tim’s shoulder lightly, “Hey, I’m sorry.” He says, trying to look as apologetic as he feels. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m sorry, I miss him too.” Like a fucking limb he missed him.

There’s something that flickers in Tim’s eyes, passing through too fast for Danny to realize what it is. He assumes its gratefulness, because Tim relaxes a little and offers him a weak little smile. “I wish I had talked to him.”

Danny sees an out and takes it, he forces out a short laugh, grinning widely. “I can tell you all about him if you’d like,” he offers, “I told Mister B I’d keep in touch anyways. I’ve missed him and Alfred quite a lot in the last few years.”

“Not Dick?”

“That dipstick wasn’t around often enough for me to form any sort of emotional attachment to him.” Danny says in a half-complaining tone, placing his hands on his hips. “Although I did like his puns.”

Tim snickers, “I’ll tell him you said that then. Nobody likes his puns.”

“Go on ahead,” Danny grins, laughter swirling in his chest and making his core thrum with warmth. Damn, he’s missed this family. “I stand by my decision. Puns are funny.”

“Let’s get a photo then.” Tim says with a hand already fishing in his pocket for his phone. “He’ll be devastated to know that you were here and he didn’t get to see you.”

“Sure.” And Danny sidles on next to Tim, throwing an arm around his shoulders — and making a noise of surprise when his arm was able to fit comfortably — as if he was just resting it on a counter.

He totally forgot how tall he was compared to Tim. Forgot that he’d been looking down the entire time they’d been talking. “Why’d I get my dad’s height.” He complains, and bends his knees as Tim raises the phone with the front-facing camera on.

Tim snickers under his breath, and takes the picture while they’re both smiling wide. Danny immediately stands up, and peers over Tim’s shoulders to look at the picture.

It’s a good one, with the fringe of Danny’s curls falling slightly over his left eye and making the dimple on his right cheek more prominent. He could see the barely-there smattering of freckles he had across his nose, the ones that became more prominent when the sun was out. His smile was lopsided, Danny’s favorite kind of smile.

He whistles lowly, “That’s a good one,” he says aloud, and smiles impishly at Tim when he looks at him. “You should send that one, I look hot in it.”

Tim snorts, his ears reddening as he looks down at his phone. “Yeah sure, no problem.” He says quickly, and Danny looks away when he pulls up the messenger app. He’s never felt comfortable looking over people’s shoulders when they were on their phone.

“I’m gonna go take a smoke break.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and curls his fingers around the box and lighter inside. “I’ll—“

“Be on the west-end balcony.” Tim finishes, the red in his ears darkening as he glances up from his phone to smile embarrassedly. “I know.”

Danny snorts, “Okay.” His voice is thick with amusement. “Let me know how Dipstick reacts, alright?” He backs up slowly, awaiting Tim’s response. Tim merely waves a hand at him, a weak gesture of “yeah yeah” that makes Danny grin before he flips around and marches towards his favorite smoking balcony.

———————

(Tim pulls up the family group chat and loads the selfie into the text bar. His face feels warm with embarrassment even as his thumbs fly across the screen.

Tim: look who i found at the latest charity gala :) [image]

Hee awaits eagerly a response, and finds he doesn’t have to wait long. Dick’s thought bubble appears on screen, then Cass’s — of which it only exists for a moment before disappearing.

Dick: holy shit, is that who i think it is?

Tim responds quickly, and his message sends.

Tim: yep. He wanted me to tell you that he thinks your jokes are funny.

Dick: they are funny

Tim rolls his eyes and thinks for a moment, really thinks. He weighs his pros and cons. And then his fingers fly across the screen again.

Tim: hey Jason are you not gonna say anything?

There’s no response for all of thirty seconds — of which it stretches on to an uncomfortably long minute — and then Jason’s thought bubble appears.

Jason: what do i have to say to a bunch of idiots blowing up my phone in the middle of patrol?

Tim: harsh. do you recognize the guy in the photo?

Jason’s response is instant. Too fast for him to have actually looked at the photo itself. He’s just trying to spite Tim then. Tim doesn’t care, he has the upper hand here

Jason: no and I don’t care, i have patrol

Tim knows he didn’t look at the photo, and yet he can’t help stifle a shit-eating smile and feign innocence

Tim: really? You and Danny used to be so close, color me surprised

His teeth dig into his lower lip, he doesn’t need to in order to hide a smile. But it gives him something to do. Jason is worryingly silent for a long, long time, and Tim can almost imagine him staring long and hard at the selfie. Tim knows he will be later.

Finally, Jason’s text bubble shows up. It exists for a long time, before finally Tim’s phone buzzes with his message alert.

Jason: that’s danny?

Tim feels all too gleeful. Smugness swirling in his chest like kicked up sand as he types his response: yep! Apparently he showed up today, although I’m not sure with who since I don’t see Miss Manson around here.

Damian: Father says to get off your phone, Drake. We are at a Gala and your behavior is most unbecoming

Tim: can it demon spawn, I was just telling Jason that his friend Danny is here

Damian: He can’t be too important if he doesn’t even know Todd is alive

Tim: how would you know that?

Damian: When Father introduced him as Todd’s friend, I expressed my surprise that Todd even had friends, considering how unpleasant he can be. Fenton became quite cross with me after that and quickly excused himself thereafter

Dick: you said what!? Damian that’s not okay

Damian: Father made that quite clear after Fenton left in a huff. My mistake for thinking that Todd had told his ‘supposed best friend’ that he was alive.

Dick: he didn’t even tell us we were alive at first

Damian: He did eventually, didn’t he? Clearly Todd doesn’t seem to care too much about Fenton if he hasn’t even informed him of his being alive at this point.

Jason’s thought bubble quickly pops up, and then dissipates, then pops up again. Tim quickly pockets his phone before he can see Jason’s response. He doesn’t feel smug anymore, just uncomfortable.)

———————

Stepping out onto the west-end balcony feels like a blast from the past. A painful one at that. Danny’s fingers dig into his cigarette pack, and he pulls it out with a sense of bittersweet familiarity.

It feels like a lifetime ago that he once stood here with Jason. The package clunks dully as his fingers scrape against the side, and he fishes a cigarette out of the box before stuffing it back into his pocket.

“Quite the night isn’t it.” He says to nothing, to ghosts of the past, to himself. He turns and sits on the railing, sticking his legs out like a tripping hazard while Gotham’s hot city wind blows through the air.

He looks up and only sees the ugly pollution yellow sky looking down at him. It’s an unfamiliar feeling to him. He loves the stars and yet when faced with a smog that covers it, he feels more at home.

Danny’s fingers find the lighter, and with a few clicks a small open flame appears in existence. There’s a poem here, he can feel it. But he feels too tired to find it.

The cigarette lights, and the lighter dies in response. Returning back to his coffin-like pocket until he needs to use it again. He pulls a leg up, resting his chin on his knee with a heavy, tired sigh.

He soaks in the sounds around him. The ugly city warmth nips at his jaw. The music inside is muffled by the force of two glass doors and walls on all four sides, and Danny can hear late night traffic coming by on the road nearby. It’s a special kind of ambience you can only find on the west end balcony.

Half a decade ago, Danny had played a part with that ambience with Jason. Now it was just him, and Jason was nowhere to be found. It left a hopeless kind of feeling in his chest. An all-suffocating kind of fear that filled him head to toe with an intensity only ghosts could have.

His body winds up like a spring, and Danny holds his breath. When he exhales two minutes later, the spring stutters and jolts, and his body relaxes with a tremble.

He misses Jason. He misses Jason.

Ghosts are emotional creatures. They feel it from their crown to their soles. And emotional wounds never really heal. They scab over and fester, waiting to be picked at again and again so it can bleed as fresh as it did when it first opened.

Danny’s grief is never going to go away, he thinks. It’s clung to him like a parasite; shaped him and molded him. The wound was too close to him when he died, and now it will stay with him forever.

He opens his eyes when his ghost sense tingles, a heavy feeling in his throat that is neither nicotine nor grief. It’s just like Damian’s, but stronger. Potent. Older. It reaches the top of Danny’s throat and sits at the base of his tongue, like a hand about to suffocate him.

He looks up, cigarette hanging off his lips, and the Red Hood drops down beside him. He stands in the same spot Jason once did, and that alone makes the ghostly core in Danny seize possessively.

Don’t you dare stand where he stood, it hisses, coiling around his lungs like smog. Danny grits his teeth and feels his ghost sense evaporate. He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth, and nicotine smoke pours out like a cheap version of his ghost sense.

“Red Hood.” He says plainly, his free hand coiling and uncoiling like cat’s claws against the railing. “A surprise to see you here.”

Danny knows through process of elimination who most of the Gotham vigilantes are: Dick is Nightwing, Bruce is Batman, Tim is Red Robin, Damian is Robin, and Cass is Orphan. There are a few who he doesn’t know, however. Like Batgirl and Red Hood.

It’s fine, he doesn’t need to know. Danny of all people understands the importance of a secret identity.

Red Hood doesn’t say anything, just stares at him as if he’s a deer in headlights. His body all tensed up like he isn’t sure what to do now that he’s here in front of Danny. Like he wasn’t expecting Danny to be here at all.

Danny’s brows furrow. “Sorry, am I in your spot?” He asks, and begins to push off the railing. “I didn’t think vigilantes used the Wayne Hall west-end balcony, I can leave if you want.”

He’s already begun to move towards the door.

The Red Hood lurches in his spot, “No!” He yells, and Danny stops in place with raising eyebrows. Red Hood’s fingers cringe, and he straightens up.

He’s shorter than Danny, he notes. Which isn’t much of revelation. Everyone is shorter than Danny.

“No,” Red Hood repeats, sounding sturdier than before, “No. You’re fine. I’m just stopping here for a quick rest before resuming patrol.”

…Danny doesn’t question it. It’s none of his business about other vigilantes and their practices. He shrugs and breathes out more smoke, “Alright.” He says, and walks back over to the railing to sit on it. “I’m Danny, by the way.”

The Red Hood nods, and a silence falls over them. Danny doesn’t care enough to make it feel uncomfortable, but the Red Hood seems unsettled by something. Lost in thought. He leans his back against the railing similar to Danny, and then switches a few seconds later to a new pose.

He does it again, and again, and again. Until finally he flips over and leans his stomach against the railing, arms resting against it. It is starkly like what Jason used to do, and Danny stares at him long and hard.

He frowns. And says nothing.

When Danny’s cigarette is nothing more than a butt of nicotine, he crushes it in his hand and watches the ash flutter down to the ground. The heat stings his hand, but its nothing his ghostly healing can’t fix.

The Red Hood is already holding out another one when Danny’s hand drifts to his pocket for the box.

Danny stares at him, sudden wariness opening up like floodgates that sit at the bottom of his stomach.

His frown deepens, his eyes flicker up and down at Red Hood. His hands hover over his pocket. “I have my own.” He says, and watches subtly as the Red Hood hides a wilt. As if he’d been expecting Danny to take it.

“Alright.” The Red Hood says, trying to sound unbothered. He retracts the cigarette away from Danny, quiet all the way. He’s looking away.

Danny plucks the cigarette out of his hand, startling the Hood enough that Red snaps back to look at him. Danny yanks his lighter from his pocket. “I won’t say no to a free cigarette.” He says, slightly muffled with the stick between his teeth. It lights.

Silence falls over them again, and when one minute stretches into five, whatever hope that had been digging into the shoulders of Red Hood finally pulls away and leaves him slumping subtly.

‘A ciggie for your thoughts?’ Nine year old Jason Todd whispers one night with an impish grin, holding up a cigarette pinched between his two fingers. ‘I stole it from my old man. He won’t even notice its gone.’

Danny is halfway through it when he speaks. “The Joker killed my best friend.” He says, and watches from the corner of his eye as the Red Hood flinches. Is he startled by Danny speaking, or startled by the bluntness of him starting?

“He beat him to death.” Danny continues, staring stone-faced away from Red Hood. His grief claws up his lungs and burrows into his heart again. His fingers dig into the railing. “He beat my best friend to death.”

The Red Hood is silent, his body as still as the grave. Silence stretches out between them both, and like he’d been thinking, the Hood finally speaks: “How do you know?”

He’s not holding the cigarette, he broke his and Jason’s rule. Danny bounces the stick between his fingers. “His ghost told me.” He says, taking a trembling breath. “His ghost told me so, before he disappeared.”

The Red Hood says nothing, and Danny gathers his thoughts. The ones that had been buried deep next to his core, shoved down ever since Danny learned of Rath and a terrible future where a world is destroyed by one ghost’s hands.

Danny has never said it out loud before. His face scrunches up briefly, and then smooths out when his eyes squeeze shut. “I’m going to kill him, Red Hood.” He murmurs when he opens his eyes, turning his face toward the vigilante. The sound is sucked out of the air.

The Red Hood stares at him, but he doesn’t say a word. Danny pushes on, teeth grinding into teeth as he flips his silvery scarred hand back and forth. Palm up, palm down. “It’s why I haven’t been back to Gotham in a while.” He admits, voice still quiet. “If I see the Joker I will kill him, and I won’t feel bad for it.”

“Not today though,” he says, and closes his hand, “today I’m here on a favor to Vlad Masters. Then after this I’ll go visit my friend. I need to apologize for not seeing his grave in a while. I’ll have to stop by a florist to see if they have any zinnias. Jay likes those.”

He takes out the cigarette in his mouth and breathes out one last cloud of smoke. And then he crushes the cigarette stick under his foot and walks back inside.

[shanastoryteller]

its something they think they grew out of <- This phrase you said about kids being hit but the parent later stops has just been rolling around of my head. Like oh thats truly how a good portion of society (myself included) just accepts happens to themselves and to others and how sometimes in tv parents go “You’re not too grown that I can’t hit you anymore” like why is this normalized

well! the short and sweet answer is that society views children not as their own persons, but as an extension of their parents, to be either coddled or abused as the parent sees fit. since the abuse stops by the time they've achieved their own personhood, it's not seen as relevant

the messier but also true answer is that children experiencing physical abuse tend to find the whole physical part of it that least upsetting bit of it. if the child doesn't care, and the parent doesn't care, then nobody else is going to care either. not to mention that time softens it even further. and by the time you've grown up enough to go "hey what the fuck was that all about" you're also so far removed from it that it feels almost childish to dig into it - because your childhood was smeared with violence, and so violence now feels like a childish thing

excepting extreme cases, the pain of abuse isn't something that lingers. bruises and bloody noses. the marks of a perfectly healthy childhood even, except yours isn't from tumbling from the jungle gym or schoolyard battles, but because an adult decided to put their hands on you, to teach a lesson that if you forgot then your skin would remember

the part that hurts is that they wanted to hurt you. the thing that lingers is the stress of not knowing the next time they'd hurt you. what gnaws at you is that you are so small and your parents are your whole world and all you want is them to love you. so you justify it. you excuse you it, you ignore it, perhaps you even start to act out, so that the next time you're bruised and bloody you at least feel like you earned it (if you earn it then it's not their fault, then it's not because there's something wrong with them - a fact that if true is terrifying because there's nothing you can do about it - but with you, the one person you can control)

the pain isn't actually the problem. often, the pain is a relief

if it's something you can grow out of, that's a good thing. because it means their disdain and lack of care and the thought that you're not being loved right is something you can outgrow, something you can leave behind in childhood, and that's what you want

but the truth of it is that if your parents don't love you properly as a child, they won't love you properly as an adult

the reason people often think of it as something that can be outgrown is that they're desperate for it to be something they can outgrow

the reason parents physically harming their child is so damaging isn't because it causes them pain, although of course that's bad. it's because it breaks their heart

[moonpascal]

FRACTURED BONDS

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader wc: 830

warnings: angst, language, fighting, slight jean slander, idk what else

a/n: thanks to everyone who liked, commented, and reblogged on the first part. part two to “something stupid”. this is everywhere, not sure how i feel about this but just wanted to get this out of my drafts. this gave me a headache, since im not hyper fixated like i was in the beginning of the year but hope it’s enjoyable! 🤎

Numbness was all you felt. The field around you lay in ruins, a burnt crater marking where your powers had gone haywire. Trees leaned or lay fallen from the blast, and you could only hope no one had been nearby.

The blue energy slowly dimmed from your hands, its destructive aftermath concealing the calm now settling over you.

Why did you let yourself get attached to Logan? You knew from the start it would lead to heartache. Still hung up on Jean—much to Scott’s displeasure—you were merely a distraction for him, someone to vent his frustrations on.

Shakily, you stood, wiping away tears that seemed never-ending. Transporting back to the castle’s foyer, the usual smile you wore was gone, leaving only a hollow feeling.

“Are you okay? You were gone for a while,” Scott murmured, making you jump, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine just tired. I’m heading to bed,” you replied, waving him off.

He nodded, giving you a sympathetic smile and let you go. Your room had become a place you hardly visited except for the occasional change of clothes.

Changing felt like a chore, your body weak and exhausted. Sleep, you knew would evade you. With a wave of your hand, you locked the door and placed runes on the walls to block out everything and everyone.

—

After a night of minimal sleep, teaching was the last thing on your mind. But you loved your students, and it wasn’t their fault you got “dumped”. On your way to the classroom, Rogue pulled you aside.

“Where were you last night? Logan was screaming and thrashing around in his sleep! Nobody could contact you, and it took forever to calm him down,” she exclaimed, dark circles under her eyes.

“Sorry, guess I was knocked out,” you shrugged. As much as you wanted to feel bad, you didn’t. Logan used you and then discarded you like you were nothing.

Rogue looked ready to defend him but couldn't find the words. Not wanting to hear it, you walked away and went to class.

In the classroom, the students fell silent and went to their seats—unusual behavior for them.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed Logan standing next to the mat, arms crossed with his usual scowl.

“Mr. Howlett, apologies. I forgot you’d be joining us today,” you said curtly before turning your attention to the students.

Their shocked murmurs filled the room, noticing your cold demeanor towards Logan, contrasting sharply with your usual flirtation and sunshine behavior.

As class progressed, the tension grew. Logan’s patience with the kids wore thin, while you on the other hand calmly corrected their mistakes.

“Fucking hell, kid! Don’t swing so wide when throwing a punch! You’re—”

“Logan! Language!” you shouted. “That’s why we’re teaching them!”

He huffed, ready to retort, but you silenced him with a flick of your hand, making the room erupt in laughter.

“Let’s demonstrate then,” you said, clapping your hands.

He begrudgingly walked to the mat. “Don’t think I’ll go easy on you, sweetheart,” he whispered.

“Please, as if that was a concern bub,” you smirked.

He threw the first punch, which you quickly dodged, transporting behind him and kicking his leg, making his knee hit the mat. He tried to swipe his other leg under yours, but you froze it in place.

“Using your powers isn’t cheating. You want to use your abilities to get out of tough situations.” You addressed the class.

Releasing him, he stood and grabbed your arm, twisting it behind your back. “But you shouldn’t rely on them in case they fail you one day!” he argued.

Suppressing a laugh, you maneuvered out of his hold, flipping him onto his back. He huffed and glared at you.

Although he never voiced it, Logan constantly underestimated your powers. You and Jean were similar, but you had control ninety-seven percent of the time. You didn’t know what she had that you didn’t.

Abruptly standing up, you dismissed the class. As the students exited, you didn’t spare Logan a glance and walked out with them.

—

Word travels fast among mutants. Ororo tried to help you as best as she could, but she knew you’d need time. Jean gives you sympathetic glances, and you managed small smiles in return. It wasn’t her fault; Logan just likes to think there’s a cat-and-mouse game between them, even though she rejected his advances. And Scott just added it to his list of reasons to hate him.

Logan ignores you as if you don’t exist. It hurts, but you after years of practice, it wasn’t hard to do the same.

Behind closed doors, you let your mask slip, crying for hours and replaying the good times in your head. As much as you wished Logan would take you back, you knew he’d never fully love or let you in.

He wanted what he couldn’t have, and you wanted him. Destined to never get what you truly wanted.

© moonpascal

tagging who requested a part two: @being-worthy @ro-lamperouge and to @kaita0 who gave me some suggestions.

[chaniceroses]

Bad Boys Ride or Die (Armando x Reader) Part ELEVEN

(!! I made this one short because I wanted the last part to be good and long for the readers!! Thank you so much for your patience and support!!!! I will begin working on the Last Part tomorrow!! :) )

ENJOY:

Y/N POV

“I’m so sorry y/n…”, Howard whispered, sitting on the chair next to your hospital bed. He grabbed your hand and held it. His eyes were searching your face for answers but couldn’t find one. The room was cold and although Howard was right by your side while you had heavy security outside of your hospital room.You still felt alone. Tears began to run down your face, they were warm and sharp. It almost felt as if it had hurt your eyes to cry.

“I…I can’t have kids anymore Captain…I can’t—”

“No, no…he said that it would be a miracle, that’s never a no. You just need to heal and allow time to take its time y/n.”, he interrupted.

“We will find McGrath and make sure that you get the justice that you deserve, this isn’t your fault y/n.”

Your heart felt empty, your eyes were swollen and slightly pink from all of the crying that you were doing so in response you just stared at Howard and nodded your head.

“I’m going to go talk to the doctor about your stay. I will be right back, okay.”, 

You watched as Howard got up and walked out of your room. Slowly taking your attention from the door to your stomach, you began to rub it and could feel the stitches that were left from the surgery. Until you started hearing gunshots, throwing your head back towards the door, you could see people running and screaming.

“What the hell?”, you whispered, flipping the covers while trying to slowly lift your body up from the bed.

“Y/N, MCGRA—”, before Howard could finish his sentence, you watched as he was shot several times from somebody behind him. You felt your heart drop and screamed in horror when…..

  “Y/N!!! WAKE UP!!”, Armando yelled, climbing on top of you while softly shaking you.

You opened your eyes to be met by Armando's intense stare, he was examining your trying to figure out what you were dreaming about to have you screaming as if you were being tortured.

Sweat ran down your face while your breathing became heavy, you slightly pushed Armando off of you and sat up in your bed. It had been forever since you’ve had one of those kinds of dreams, especially about losing you and McGrath’s baby. You buried your head in your hands when suddenly, your hotel door flew open while being greeted by hard footsteps. You looked up to see Mike and Marcus standing there while aiming their guns around.

“FREEZEEE…oh”, Marcus  yelled, before looking over to you and Armando.

You were confused at why he looked at you and Armando with a blank and awkward facial expression until you looked back at Armando to see him standing, while covering his member with his hands.

You looked down to see that you were also still naked from you and Armando sexual games last night.

So you quickly grabbed the sheets that were on the floor and wrapped it around your body.

“This is so embarrassing…”, you whispered, getting up while looking at Armando and then at Mike.

You observed as Mike stared at you and Armando. You weren’t sure what was going through his mind but hoped that it was nothing.

“You owe me a hundred dollars!”Marcus laughed, while leaving your hotel room.

“I’m going to go…go take a shower.”, You awkwardly whispered, grabbing a towel and running to the bathroom.

ARMANDO POV

We watched as y/n ran into the bathroom and slammed the door. I wanted to take one with her but by the looks of it, I could see that not happening.

“Like Father, like son huh.”, I sarcastically replied. Grabbing the covers that were on the bed and wrapping it around my waist.

“I’m going to go and get you guys a bag that has clothes in them. Put them on and come to Marcus’s and I room.”, he sighed, walking towards the door. 

“Mike, y/n and I are together now.”, I hurriedly responded while walking up to him.

I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to say that to him but I did.

“I know Armando, I saw it coming a couple days ago.”

“It's a good thing right? She liked me and I liked her and she—”, before I could finish my sentence, I watched as he  turned around and looked at me.

“Look, I knew that you guys liked each other but I didn’t think that you guys would take it this far, Armando. With what you’ve both been through, you guys need to think about it.”, he interrupted, looking at the bed and then back at me.

I was lost, y/n was the one who said that he told her not to play with my emotions however now he’s feeling the opposite.

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Armando, what do you think is going to happen once we’re done with McGrath? Huh? You guys are going to run off into the sunset while holding hands?”

I had no response.

“I want you guys together, I do. Even if you hearing this from me, don’t mean shit to you but once this ends…You will still be a fugitive while y/n will be free. So it’ll be hard for the both of you to work that out.”

“Wait, you said that you were going to help me Mike?”, I replied. I knew that what he was saying was the truth however, there has to be a different route. I watched as he searched the room for answers. At first there wasn’t a thought behind his eyes, until his eyes suddenly focused back on me.

“Armando, I have an idea but I need you to trust me.”, he answered, putting his hand on my right shoulder. I couldn’t help but to look at him weirdly. The way he was looking at me, had me oddly uncomfortable. However, I couldn’t help but to be curious.

“What is it?”

“...You’re going to have to take it back…it may not make sense right now but—” “Hell no Mike, are you crazy. Y/n and I just had sex and made it official last night, she’s going to think I used her for her body!”, I loudly whispered, throwing his hand off of my shoulder. Horrible timing Mike. Horrible timing.

“I know but you have to trust me, it’ll work out in the end for the both of you, I promise you that. You have to do it, Armando or I can’t help you!”, he demanded. Before I could respond, I could hear a door shut behind me.

“Mike…Armando, is everything okay?”, Y/n said walking towards the both of us.

I looked back at y/n and then back at Mike and watched as he stared at y/n.

“Yeah y/n, everything is fine. Just son and father things, you know.”, he laughed. Leaning past me to grab the door knob. I watched as he shut the door while I just stared at it. 

A part of me didn’t want to do it, however the other half felt that Mike knew what he was talking about. Shit Armando.

Y/N POV

You stood behind Armando, examining the muscles that swam across his back. You were about to touch his back, when he suddenly turned around. His breathing was short and slow. He was avoiding eye-contact with you and was looking out towards the balcony. Something was wrong.

“Armando, seriously what’s wrong? What was that conversation between you and Mike about?”, you were looking into his eyes for a response. An answer. However, he kept his glare towards the balcony.

So you grabbed his hand and guided him towards the bed. The both of you sat down and you watched as he rubbed the back of his neck. Something was bothering him, you just didn’t know what.

“I love you y/n…so much.”, he suddenly replied, turning his head to look at you while smiling.

“I love you too Armando…you know last night was—”

“But I can’t do this.”, he interrupted, now looking away.

Suddenly the room went silent, you could hear your thoughts and everything that you were feeling now being said out loud. What the hell did he mean that he can’t “do this”?

“I mean..I want to do this, us but with what’s going on I—” “Are you fucking serious, Armando?”, you sighed. You were disappointed. You finally told him how you felt. You poured your heart out to him last night as he did the same but now, he can’t “do” this. Us? You turned to look at him and could see worry across his face.

“Is it..does it have to do with McGrath?”, you whispered looking at him. You watched as he turned to look at you. His mouth was saying one thing, while his eyes were saying another. So you swallowed the lump that had slowly built up in your throat and threw how you felt out the door. Nothing was going to get in the way between you two and you were sure of that.

“We don’t know what the outcome may be today and I feel that we may be moving too fast.”, he explained, throwing his hand out to you. You knew that he was lying. You could feel it and the way he was holding himself told you that he was. That’s when you thought about Mike.

“Well, I pray that this isn’t one of those “using me for my body” situations and I know that I just caught you and Mike talking about something which led to you acting the way you are now—”, you responded, grabbing his hand and caressing it.

“No, I would never do that”, he interrupted, grabbing your hand and holding it a little tighter.

“Mike said that this would be best. With everything that is happening.”, he continued, looking at you.

You were confused. Mike? 

“What the hell do you mean Armando, since when did you start listening to Mike?”

“I listen to him y/n when he makes sense. He said that it’ll be best for us not to be together, just for right now. Since i’m a fugitive and you know with your life and this McGrath shit. There’s just no balance.”, he explained, shrugging his shoulders.

You knew that what Mike was saying wasn’t entirely wrong; however, you were still confused.

“He also said that he’ll help us out because he does want to see us together. Now he didn’t explain how or when but he just said to trust him. And for some odd reason, I do. Me just saying this, doesn’t mean I mean it y/n. Because I sure as hell doesn’t.”, he continued, standing up.

You stood up also and grabbed his hand while looking up at him. Although you were against what Mike said, you knew that you could trust his word.

“Okay Armando, I trust you guys so we will just “play” as if we’re not together around them, at least until all of this shit clears.”, you laughed while caressing his cheek. You could see a small smirk come across his face as he looked down at you.

“I like the way you think.”, he smiled, picking you up. You watched as he leaned in towards you to give you a kiss, which made you respond to it. His lips were soft and smooth. You could feel his goatee mustache run smooth across your face. You found yourself deep into the moment, until you opened your eyes and noticed that he was walking towards the bathroom.

“What are you doing?”, you questioned

“We’re about to take a shower.”

“Yeah but I just took one.”

“Yeah but it was without me.”, he mocked, carrying you inside the bathroom and shutting the door.

You and Armando took a shower then quickly got dressed to head to Mike’s and Marcus’s hotel room. There was a bag filled with black clothes and police attire for you and Armando to put on once you guys were finished so after you were done, the both of you helped each other get dressed, straightened the room and then headed towards Mike’s room.

You watched as Armando walked up to the door and knocked. After a couple knocks the door finally opens to the two of you being greeted by a crowded room.

“What the hell.”, Armando whispered

“What is it?”, you replied moving from behind him to see Dorn, Kelly, Rita and her husband, Lockwood in the room with Mike and Marcus.

“Took you two forever…”, Mike sighed, signaling for you and Armando to enter.

You followed behind Armando and examined as the energy in the room shifted.  Maybe it could be because it is early in the morning and everyone wants to still be in bed or because of Armando’s intimidating presence.

“Why is he here?”, you asked, pointing at Lockwood and Rita.

You felt that it was odd for him to be there, knowing that he didn’t say anything about proving Howard’s innocence and with the election coming up. He had nothing to do with this operation.

“He is a part of McGraths bullshit”, Mike answered, walking over to the group and sitting down.

“Yeah, Rita found the messages between him and McGrath. He’s behind the files…”

“And the money being transported…”

“And how McGrath found out where everyone lives.”, the group explained while looking at you.

You could feel disappointment,confusion and anger fill your body.

“So, you’re telling me…this motherfucker sitting across from me is the reason why LadyBug is dead?! THE REASON WHY THAT DUMBASS FOUND OUT WHERE I LIVED!”, you yelled now standing up. You were livid. This whole time you had been blaming yourself for Ladybug’s death, when it could’ve been avoided if Lockwood would’ve been a true politician and reported McGrath instead of working with him and allowing innocent people like Ladybug and Fletcher, to lose their lives.

You watched as Lockwood stood up and threw his hands up in defense.

“Look y/n, I don’t know what—” Before Lockwood could finish his sentence, you quickly grabbed the gun that was on the table, jumped over it  and held it to his head.

“YO! Y/N CALM DOWN! —”Mike yelled, walking over towards you.

“FOR WHAT!! HE DESERVES TO DIE!!!”, you yelled looking at Mike and then back at Lockwood. Fear was written all over his face and you loved that it was. 

“You shoot him, I’ll have no choice but to shoot you.”, Rita replied, pointing her gun at you. You kept your finger on the trigger and pushed the gun even more towards Lockwood's head.

“Like hell you will…”, Armando whispered. You turned to see him standing behind Rita while having two guns in his hands. One pointing at the back of Rita’s head and the other at Lockwood’s.

“You guys are married right? Till death do you part? Sounds about right…you’re call y/n.”, Armando scoffed. You couldn’t help but to squeeze the gun, you wanted to see his brain be splatted everywhere in front of you. The way McGrath did LadyBug’s.

“Just wait y/n ... .I have something for you.”, Marcus whispered, walking towards the closet that was next to the bathroom. 

“What Marcus?”, you replied, keeping your eyes on Lockwood. You could see sweat forming on his forehead. He was nervous and afraid. You quickly shifted your eyes to see Marcus walking up to you while holding something in his hand.

“What the hell is that Marcus because I don’t have time for these games…”

“Here.”, he whispered, pushing his hands out to you.

You turned to see glasses in his hand.

“Marcus, what the hell am I supposed to do with glasses?”

“There Ladybug’s.”, he mumbled. “Look at them.” You took a glance and stared at them, they were black glasses with thick lenses. You looked up at Marcus, then at the glasses and then back at Lockwood.

“Those could be anyone’s Marcus, I’m not stupid!”, you yelled. You grabbed Lockwood’s head and held him down. Now pointing the gun at the back of his head.

“Take a step closer to her and I'll kill you instantly.”, Armando whispered, stepping closer to Rita while keeping his eyes on you.

“Y/n just read the arms, they have his initials on it. “L.B” C’mon y/n. We’ll make sure he goes to jail. I promise.”, Marcus reassured, now trying to hand you the glasses.

You sat the gun down while keeping a tight grip of Lockwood’s hair in your other hand and grabbed the glasses. How in the hell did he get these? You moved one of the arms of the glasses and could see Ladybug’s initials clear as day.

“How did you—”

“That night when we found you on the ground…Mike picked you up and took you to the car while I stayed behind and put him on the couch. The way you were crying over him, told me that he meant something to you and I wanted to make sure that you had something in remembrance so I took his glasses to give to you at some point. Once you heal, you know.”, he explained, stepping closer to you.

“Let him go y/n…”, Mike whispered, looking at you and then back at Marcus.

You looked down at the glasses and then at Lockwood.

“Okay..”, you sighed, setting down the glasses and the gun.

“Thank God.”, Lockwood whispered, grunting in pain. Before you knew it, you threw a punch in the back of his head and watched as his body went limp.

You looked up to see everyone shockingly looking at you as if you killed someone.

“He’s not dead, he’s just knocked out. Give him thirty minutes.”, you scoffed, grabbing your gun and glasses, climbing back over the table and sitting back in the seat that you and Armando were on.

“Lucky girl.”, Armando whispered into Rita’s ear, lowering his gun and walking to sit back next to you. You loved the fact that you didn’t have to say anything for Armando to jump and support your actions, even if others were against it. He was there. Supporting and protecting.

“Well while he’s half dead can we please discuss a plan about how we're going to get McGrath.”, Dorn sighed, walking over to pick up the papers that fell off the table.

“We don’t need a plan, we know where he is since we were able to track him from Lockwood’s phone. So let’s just go to him.”, Mike replied, grabbing some guns out of a bag and strapping them onto his leg.

“I agree, no plan, just action. That’s how we roll.”Marcus supported, folding his arms.

“And that’s how we get killed.”, Rita sighed, rolling her eyes.

“McGrath just plans on leaving the country after he kills us and receives the money…”, you added, pointing at Marcus, Mike, Armando and yourself. “So really, we just need to be in hiding and meet him at whatever transportation he plans on leaving on.” You stood up and walked over to the bags filled with weapons.

“No time needs to be wasted so we should probably be heading out in the next ten minutes.”, Kelly replied, gathering all of the information.

Everyone nodded and began to get ready. Strapping up, making sure their hollister were on good and that their bulletproof vests were on tight. You could sense Armando looking at you; however, you ignored him. 

“Something happened between the two of you?”, Mike asked, looking at you and then back at Armando. 

“Nope, he just doesn’t think we should be moving so quick.”, you whispered looking over at him. You watched as he looked at Armando and then back at you again. You gave a small smile, hinting to him that you knew about their conversation from earlier but by the looks of it, he was lost.

“Oh well, I'm sure it’s for the best with that being said… I know that killing McGrath is important for you as it is for me so I want the both of us to be the ones going after him. That way we know that he won’t be spared.”, he whispered. Putting the bag across his shoulders and turning to face you. You finished getting ready and tied your hair back that way it wouldn’t be in your face. You were happy that Mike was on the same page that you were on.

“For sure.”, you agreed, looking over to the group. You watched as Mike grabbed the keys that were on the counter and signaled to everyone to start heading out.

“This should be fun.”, Dorn mumbled, picking up Lockwood and throwing him across his shoulders. You watched as he walked past you, allowing Lockwood’s head to be slightly thrown everywhere. You couldn’t help but to chuckle until Armando walked up to you.

“You ready.”, he smiled looking down at you. 

“Yeah lets go—” Before you could finish you were interrupted by Kelly walking up to you.

“Y/n, do you remember that video that I told you Howard left for you. The personal video.”, she whispered, looking back at Rita and then back at you. At first you were lost but after a while of allowing your thoughts to catch up, you were able to recall the conversation between the two of you.

“Yeah I remember, you were going to send it to me.”, you replied

“Yeah, I decided to not send it to you but to put it on a disc…I couldn’t help it, I felt that what he said was extremely personal and that you would need to hear it maybe alone. Nothing bad just very, heartwarming you know.”, she smiled, handing out the disc to give to you.

You grabbed it and then looked at it. You were very curious about what was on here however, you wanted your mind to be sat on today’s operation.

“Give it to me after the operation, so that I can have something to look forward to watching.”, you smiled, handing it back to her. You watched as she grabbed it and nodded her head in response. Walking back towards Rita and sparking a conversation with her while she helped her finish packing.

“What was that about?”, Armando asked, turning around to follow you out of the room.

“Some video Howard left for me to watch by myself, I don’t really know.”, you replied as the both of you walked down the long hallway.

“Well, What I do know is that…whatever happens today, I want you to be—”

“Tell me after the operation Armando.”, you interrupted, keeping your focus on the elevator. 

“Huh?”, he asked as the both of you stood in front of the elevator doors waiting for it to open.

“Tell me once we kill McGrath and we both make it out alive, not now.”, you whispered, walking onto the elevator.

You watched as he followed behind you onto the elevator. There was a weird presence in the room, it wasn’t tense, but it was soft. Accepting. Danger was slowly creeping towards you while you were running towards it. This was a suicide mission, and you knew it and so did everyone else. You must’ve gotten lost into your thoughts because you suddenly felt Armando’s hand slowly hold yours. You looked down at it and then up at Armando to see him looking at you. Although a word wasn’t said, his eyes were having a conversation of its own and you understood every bit of it. You turned your head back towards the doors, held his hand tighter and let go of the breath that you didn’t know that you were holding. Allowing the silence to consume the both of you and for time to slowly reach its ending point.

[balancethescales]

thinking about the specific moments where the berzatto family falls in love with sydney (because of course they do, everyone does).

for richie, it takes the end of the beef and right up till the opening of the bear to happen. he is full of contempt and grief when he meets her and all he knows is that when he looks at her face he is afraid. he doesn’t like that feeling. richie is not a man who finds himself fearful a lot, but she is everything he is not and nothing that he is and he hates himself for it. if she is what it means to be passionate, then what is he? is he nothing but an empty shell of mikey, stuck on earth to shake his fist at passing clouds, because how dare they move and continue on like mikey was nothing to them, as if he wasn’t the very point that the earth revolved around? everyone is leaving him behind, and she is proudly leading the pack. it’s not right. but then— he gets it. he talks to garrett and jess and chef terry and he sees sydney in every corner of that restaurant. the fear slowly is replaced with respect as the week goes on and he realizes that just because she’s good doesn’t mean she’s out to get him. that’s the berzatto upbringing in him doing the talking, but it doesn’t have to, because shes a berzatto now, maybe not officially (not yet, but mark his words, she will be) but she is, and that’s not how she does things. so, he lets her lead them into the future to something good and different and better.

for sugar, it’s instant. she was born to a mother who is triggered by her very existence, and it has hurt her all her life. she is full of love and the one person she wants to give it to the most doesn’t want any part of it. she was born to give but is surrounded by those who are afraid to even take it, to reach out their hand and meet her in the middle. and if they cant take then they themselves have nothing to give, so she gets used to being the one who has to force feed her love down their throats, because if no one does, if no one shows them that they are worthy of good things, then they will crumble (“if i just talked to him more—” “no, nat—” “if i had just—” “it’s not your fault, honey. it’s never been.”). but when she meets sydney, it’s like looking into a mirror. she sees her bright eyes and soft smiles and careful but strong hands and instantly recognizes her for what she is: a giver. and sugars heart swells with even more love than she thought possible, because finally, she’s not alone— there is someone else there to slowly, albeit subconsciously, take care of her crumbling family, to show them that despite what their mother may have taught them, its okay to not be okay (she tries her best not to cry when syd asks her if shes okay, but she does. and syd doesnt grab her face or yell at her or call her stupid. she makes her a meal. and sugar cries some more).

for cicero, the love isn’t instant, and it’s not even entirely love. she is strong and she is assertive, but that also makes her naive and a very expensive risk. she makes him curious for what’s to come, intrigued by the way she doesn’t back down from carmy whose voice so often mimics the berzattos that came before him (“you’re better than this, kid.” “i don’t know what i am.” “whatever it is, it’s not this.”). she's self assured and knows her place in the establishment and is unafraid to let people know it. it’s a refreshing change of pace from mikey, who often resorted to intimidation to get his way, or carmy, who’s anxiety envelopes him and distracts him from what’s right there in front of him. but she is not them. she is focused and on track and is willing to put in the work to get what she wants. he doesn’t visit the bear often, only drops by once in a while to deliver bad news or to fulfill a favour or to just enjoy some good food, but when he does, she is always there, dedicated to ensuring that carmy and michaels, and now, her dream stays alive. she is good for his family, and he trusts her to keep the berzatto spirit alive.

for michelle, it’s quite simple. she always looked out for carmy, their little bear, so when she meets her it’s a family thanksgiving party at the bear and syd stumbles out of the kitchen, obviously frazzled and a little sweaty (“carmy, im not ready, i didn’t even change yet and the turk—” “don’t worry, tina will take care of it, you look great, they’ll love you, they just really wanted to meet you—”), but she’s smiling. she’s a little awkward when she introduces herself, and michelle finds herself endeared by her nervous ramble (“it’s, uh, really nice to meet you guys. sorry, i didn’t know that i was going to be pulled out of the kitchen so soon. uh, im sydney. yeah, i guess carmy already told you guys, huh? um. im sorry, how are you related to the family again? i mean, i dont want to offend but it’s just. uh. well, you guys are just very... normal?”) and she’ll laugh and look at stanley and the two of them will think to themselves, good job carmy, she’s a good one, before telling syd something dumb and nonsensical about a genetic mutation and richie interrupts to tell michelle it’s not a genetic mutation it’s called being boring and syd will laugh and michelle will too, truly happy that their little bear found someone normal, a breath of fresh air within the smoke of their family.

for donna, it’s weird. it’s tense. they don’t meet for a long time. they don’t meet at the bear when it first opens and not at the bear even when it has found it’s footing, but by chance. they are somewhere mundane (a grocery store, a park, or maybe just the street) and there is no other family member around when syd meets the berzatto matriarch. she only knows what donna looks like from photos at sugars house because carmys apartment is devoid of any actual sentiment (although that has begun to change since she made him get an actual dresser and he dedicated one of the drawers to her stuff). she calls out to her by her name, and donna turns around startled. she doesn’t recognize syd, of course, who introduces herself and informs her of who she is to the family. when donna smiles it’s not a real one, and syd knows this, but it doesn’t deter her. she tells donna that her kids love her (“even after everything, nat?” “she’s our mother. its all that we can do.”) and that her kids are great (“carmy, you are not broken.” “im a little broken.” “no, listen to me, the fact that you are still here, means something. its something.”) and that there will always be a table for her at the bear (“chef, someones calling in for a reso for 1 but we’re all full up… except for—“ “yo, dont finish that sentence. table 7 for ms. berzatto is an indefinite booking. is that understood?” “yes, chef”). donnas smile fades and her chest fills with anger but just as she’s about to explode in typical berzatto fashion syd interrupts her. she has faced the bear many a time before and has handled herself with grace and dignity everytime, so this is no different. she smiles brightly and thanks donna for listening to her and hopes she considers coming in, because she’d really like to cook for her. she looks like she needs a good meal. she deserves one. she turns and walks away. donnas stomach growls. that night, table 7 is occupied for the first time since the bear opened its doors.

and carmy? well, there isn’t an exact moment. its a culmination of awkward partnership (“i don’t want to be shitty.” “okay, then dont be.”) and flawless teamwork (“the menu needs—” “already on it, chef.”) and nights unwinding at the bar down the street (“of course you drink an old fashioned.” “what’s that supposed to mean?” “nothing, it’s just very… tortured-chef-from-the-slums-of-chicago of you”) and spontaneous phone calls just to hear the others voice (“why are you whispering?” “i… don’t know. my dads home. its a habit.” “you’re 27.” “and you’re white, you wouldn’t get it.”) till they’re just inseparable (“cousin, wheres carmy?” “with syd, duh.” “why'd i even ask?”). and then, sydney and carmen become something else. something tender and sweet and terrifying and beautiful all mixed together into… something. there’s no word for what they have. but it feels so right; to the guests who taste their food and recognize that the hands who put it together are full of love and care; to the staff at the bear who see the unspoken communication, the lingering touches, and their soft eyes that seem to always be on the other; to the berzatto family who notice that carmy looks a little brighter, and shakes a little less. yes, its love, but its so much more. it’s syd and carmy. it always has been, and always will be.

(“can i ask you something? something corny and lame and gross?” “always.” “when did you, like, know?” “know what?” “like, when did you know that you loved me? like, not as a chef or a friend, but as... y'know.” “that’s very middle school of you to ask.” “shut up, i did warn you.” “…” “so?” “its, uh, i don’t, i don’t know.” “well, that’s rude.” “no, i mean, i can’t say its one moment because... it was all of them. together. like, one moment you’re staging and then everything happened and, and, keeps happening but the next thing i knew you were there and you always were there and i just knew that i never wanted you to not be there.” “that’s…. really, really, disgusting, and frankly, a little unprofessional.” “oh, fuck off.” “no, like, i knew you were obsessed with me, but wow, that is a whole new other level.” “fuck you, get off of me, don’t touch me.” “no no no, please—” “i let you into my family—” “let me?” “into my restaurant—” “i think you mean OUR restaurant—” “only for you to humiliate me in my own bed? how dare you.” “…are you sulking?” “…” “…carmy?” “syd?” “me too.” “…heard, chef. now come back here.”)

(and it’s unspoken, but everyone knows that michael would’ve loved her too. i mean, she’s sydney fucking adamu, she conquered the bear. how could anyone not love her?)

[redbird-tf]

Im not afraid of you now

Dean winchester x sister reader

Summary: After a failed hunt, a conflict between john and dean reveals y/ns repressed fear of dean and its strain on their bond.

(Summaries suck, i promise the stories better)

Note: inspired by and lyrics used from forward beckoned rebound

Word count: 920

Warnings: john being a bad parent,profanity, aggression, alcohol/drinking

“Fucking disaster” John grumbled stepping into the house followed by all 3 of his kids. It wasn’t often that there was a family hunt, but on the occasion that there was it meant something big was going down. They had tracked a demon through multiple big cities until they could catch up to it in Mississippi. The demon got away, thanks to various mistakes from all parties, though John would never admit to his faults. “Now we’ve got to wait for it to show its face god knows where and when!” John exclaimed throwing his duffle bag to the ground.

Sam clicked his tongue in disbelief before turning to his father. “You think this is all our fault don't you?” Sam furrowed his brows stepping up to John. “Guys, come on..” Dean groaned pinching the bridge of his nose. He was too tired to deal with another catfight. “You were the one who refused to tell us anything about this demon!” Sam yelled pointing his finger at John “i told you what i needed to!” John shouted shoving Sam back. “And you-“John had grabbed your arm as you tried walking past him. “I told you not to move until i called for you” John stated in a stern tone “but Sam needed-“You tried to explain, he didn't care, “i told you not to move!” He inched closer to your face. “Alright enough” Neither of you had seen Dean approaching until he was right in front of you. Dean gripped your upper arm, slightly gentler than John, and pushed you back a few feet behind him.

“I know we screwed up, but don't do this now.” Dean pleaded, he was too exhausted to fight but he wouldn't stand to see his younger siblings be attacked. “What are you doing Dean,” John asked cocking his head to the side “We can talk about this later” Dean explained with heavy eyes. “You trying to play daddy Dean?” He questioned dean. “No sir” he replied blankly “i leave you to take care and train them, not bring them back to me weaker!” John got closer and closer to him with every word. “I said enough!” Dean retaliated. Dean clenched his jaw, there was a moment of silence before John spoke up again “you think you can do it better, but shes just as afraid of you as she is of me” John muttered pointing behind Dean.

Dean turned his head to look at you. He watched your eyes dart from John to him, like a deer caught in headlights. You inhaled sharply, swallowing the lump in your throat along with the shame building inside of you. Dean lowered his head, bumping shoulders with John on his way out the door. You locked eyes with John before muttering out through gritted teeth “You're an asshole” you quickly turned your back making a beeline for your room. Sam tried to hold you, but you pulled away and he didn’t attempt to follow you.

————————————

Your back rested against the backboard of your bed, book in hand while you tried to distract yourself from the guilt pledging your mind, but it was no use. You couldn’t stop seeing the pure hurt on Dean's face. What John said was true, to an extent. You knew dean loved you, but you’ve never been able to cuddle up to him or talk to him like you could with Sam. Not to mention the whole macho man act he constantly put up, you had never thought about it until now. You hadn’t realized that it was all to keep you safe, so you could be emotional and make mistakes. The realization of your brother's sacrifice made you feel so much worse.

Your eyes shoot up to the door hearing it creek open. “Dad?” You called out. “No, just me,” Dean said walking into the room. You watched in silence as he sat at the edge of your bed. he eyed the sheets before his gaze met yours and he breathed out, his breath lined with the scent of whisky as it usually was at this hour. “I'm sorry i scared you earlier” he stated, you stayed silent “i don't ever mean to scare you” his tone was stern yet comforting. “I understand” you whispered so low you don't know if he heard, but he went on with his half-drunken apology “you know, i get it… when you were born, you were an infant, and innocent and i was already this villain and violent guy” he perused his lips together, too far into his mind. “Dean” you placed your hand over his clutched one “I'm not afraid of you now,not anymore” he gave you a small smile.

“May i?” He asked pulling back the sheets. you nodded watching him kick off his shoes and climb in next to you. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as He secured the embrace by clasping his wrist with his other hand. Both arms cradled you now. “Dean…” you mumbled, and you felt his sleepy “mhm” vibrate his chest “thank you…for everything” you whispered as your thumb smoothed his forearm. “Always baby” he pressed his lips to your temple, drifting off while holding you tight.

[t0yac1d]

My Juliet, my special girl (C. Diaz x Fem!Reader)

I hope that she looks at me and thinks, "Shit, he is so pretty"

Warnings: gang violence, death, after Olivia's Quince, blood, contemplating suicide

Word Count: 889

It was the morning after Olivia's Quince. The morning after a beautiful party. The morning after Latrelle shot Ruby and killed Olivia.

"It's all my fault."

"I shouldn't have shown mercy to Latrelle."

"I shouldn't have gone after him in the first place."

Cesar blamed and hated himself deeply.

He hated what happened to Ruby and Olivia because in his eyes, that should’ve been him.

In his eyes, that should’ve been him who got shot.

In his eyes, that should’ve been him who got killed. 

I need to cry, but I can't get anything out of my eyes,

Cesar sat on the edge of his bed, eyes filled with frustrated tears that threatened to spill but they wouldn’t fall. No matter how upset he was, they wouldn’t pour.

Or my head. 

And oh my god, the night. That night kept repeating in his brain. 

The sound of the gunshot.

The sound of Ruby screaming his name before getting shot. 

The sounds of Geny and Ruben screaming as their son lay on the ground, bleeding out. 

Every little detail played continuously in his brain. It was like a record player stuck in a loop.

Did I die? I need to run,

Days went by without Cesar coming out of the house. He felt like an empty body, just moving on its own throughout the day.  

but I can't get out of bed for anyone.

He was scared. 

Not of Latrelle or any gang member after him. 

But of his friends and Ruby’s family. 

What if they all hated him? He wouldn’t blame them, but this was the last thing he expected that would break the group up. 

He couldn’t get out of bed to see anyone.

 Not for you,

Not even for the girl he wanted to live for. 

When he did get the courage to go outside, he went to school first. He wanted to see if everyone still wanted to be his friend. Because if not, then he’d just apologize and go away. Leave their lives for good and keep them out of harm’s way. 

When Cesar got to school, no one greeted him. It was like he didn’t exist. 

He hated how no one talked to him, but he couldn’t blame them. He took their friend away.

Cesar skipped a couple classes that day. He just sat in an empty and dark classroom, silently sobbing and crying. 

My sour boy is a pain, 

His chest hurt with each sob he let out, 

I wanna shoot him in the brain,

He doesn’t deserve to live. It should’ve been him instead of Olivia.

He feels like if he died, everything would be better for his friends. 

 but I'd miss him in the morning. 

But a part of him says that this isn’t the way to think. That what happened has already happened and there’s not much to do about it but move on and make amends.

It really hurts when I need to so bad, but I can't see her..

He missed you, 

My Juliet, 

He missed you so dearly.

My special girl.

The only girl that can really, truly help him through a time like this.

But I need to understand when I can power through,

Because he knows you’ll get him through this, and help guide him to the right choice here. 

Cesar pulled his phone out with shaky hands and sent a text to you, he was sure there were a few words that were misspelled, but you’ll understand what he meant. Hopefully. 

He sat in that classroom, patiently waiting for you to come to him. But this time alone helped him think to himself, about himself. 

Sometimes I act like I know, but I'm really just a kid.

He’s just a kid. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. All he’s really doing is causing problems.

With two corks in his eyes, and a bully in his head.

And hurting those around him because of his actions.

I wanna make a colour that no one else has seen before 

He wants to get out and do something with his life. He doesn’t want to be stuck in the gang for the rest of his life. 

I wanna be so much more

He wants to show everyone that he can make something of himself. That he’s not “Little Spooky”. That he’s Cesar Diaz. 

You walked into the classroom and saw Cesar sitting on the floor. You walked over to him and sat with him. You didn’t say anything to him, you just sat there and looked at him with a slight frown. 

You didn’t like this. He looked so exhausted. 

He had dark eye bags under his eyes, and even then they were red and puffy from the crying. He had tear marks on his face and his clothes were disheveled. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, resting his head on your shoulder, as you rubbed his back and lightly scratched his head while you held him.

“It’s ok Cesar.” 

He leaned back and looked at you with teary eyes, wondering what was running in your head as you saw him like this. 

I hope that she looks at me and thinks, "Shit, he is so pretty”

The one thing that was running through his mind at this moment was how you thought of him.

Something I can't believe..

[raineandsky]

#133

Fourteen years ago, the hero—barely twelve years old and several years from considering being a hero—knocked on their neighbour’s door with their basket in hand and the smile of a kid about to eat their weight in sweets on their face.

The door was barely open before the hero was shouting, “Trick or treat!”

“Oh!” their neighbour exclaimed as she opened the door. “What’re you dressed as, hon?”

The hero pouted dramatically. This was the question they’d been answering all night—how could no one see it? “I’m [Superhero].”

Their neighbour laughed and produced a bowl of sweets, the wrappers glittering like gold under the porch light. “Of course you are! Well, take your pick, [Superhero].”

The temptation to dig their entire hand into that delicious ocean of chocolate was almost irresistible. The hero swiped the top sweet to push that temptation down, not even looking at what it was before dropping it into their own basket. “Thanks!”

Their neighbour said her goodbyes as the hero hopped back down onto the path, letting themself out the gate and heading for the next house.

A flicker of white moved in the bushes next to the hero. Their gaze snapped to the side, scanning through the leaves for the culprit. Then, like a mist of horror and death, a ghost drifted straight through the bushes towards them.

The hero yelped, shaking several sweets from their basket as they leapt back. It hovered just in front of them, the sheet over its head floating slightly, eye-holes cut in to show the hero their distant gaze.

A real, actual ghost. Fear gripped their throat and glued their feet to the ground. No, think—what would the superhero do?

They cleared their throat, putting on the bravest face they could, and said, “Nice costume.”

The ghost didn’t respond. It simply stared at them with dead, far-off eyes. An actor, the hero decided. It’s not real. Just someone that’s really embodying the spirit of Halloween.

They tried a smile that probably looked more pained than they’d hoped. “Super realistic,” they continued into the quiet. “Did you make it yourself?”

The hero reached out to run a hand over the bottom of the ghost’s sheet, only to find their fingers phased straight through it. They paused for a moment, staring wide-eyed at their hand passing right through this supposedly solid object, before hurriedly pulling it back.

“Whoa,” the hero whispered. “Are… are you, like… dead?”

The ghost said nothing. It only continued to stare at them. The sheet floated around them like the hero hadn’t ever disturbed it.

“Um. Okay.” The hero shuffled nervously, glancing at their destination down the street. “Very cool. See you ‘round, anyway.”

They casually wandered to the next house along. They glanced over their shoulder at the gate and, seeing that the ghost was gone, swiftly abandoned their sweet hunt and ran all the way home.

-

“On Clarence Street?” the hero asks indignantly. “Fourteen years ago? That was you?”

The villain laughs brightly from where the hero has hastily tied them to a desk chair. “And you were the one dressed like [Superhero]? The only kid I couldn’t scare the chocolate out of? Oh, this rivalry was destined.”

The hero can feel their face scrunching up in annoyance. The whole process of seeing a ghost, researching the paranormal, feeling bad that someone was lingering after death, wanting to shape a world people could leave peacefully, taking on heroism in their career. All their life decisions had sprouted from that one moment when they were twelve, and it was the villain’s goddamn fault.

The hero takes a step back to resist the urge to punch them. “How’d you do it?”

“Projector.” The villain looks particularly proud, like they’re explaining how their most recent invention works. “It was one of the first real evil things I planned myself. I think it was the start of my career, that night.”

The hero scowls. “Makes two of us.”

“Be honest,” the villain starts with a grin, “did I getcha?”

The scowl only deepens. The hero doesn’t like the truth, but they’re not a liar. “A bit.”

Another laugh, entirely too proud of the stunt they pulled off over a decade ago. “Happy Halloween, [Superhero].”

[highdio]

Pleeease, write your thoughts about the musical lol. I really like your Dio meta posts <3

Just a disclaimer: this is really opinionated but I don't like to drag media for its own sake. There were lots of things to like in the Phantom Blood musical, just ... Dio wasn't one of them. Also, Mamoru Miyano threw himself into the performance he was asked for, so it's hardly his fault. It's just always amazing to me that people feel the need to rewrite Dio into someone else when the way Araki's written him is already perfect, complete and a lot of fun.

So, where to start? Basically, the Phantom Blood musical re-writes Dio, giving him a different personality and different motivations through OOC stage direction along with a bunch of original dialog and scenes. What results is a version of Phantom Blood where "Dio" is just a normal guy without charisma who had a bad childhood and spends most of the story being miserable. Dio as he's written in canon has an uncommon charisma and appeal that's allowed him to remain relevant as one of those 'all-time great' villains. Scene after scene in the musical prove that its creative team either didn't read the manga or just really didn't like Dio.

fwiw Araki wrote Dio as thoroughly fleshed-out, with consistent traits and behaviors and consistent motivations behind his actions. He also left a paper trail of interviews and author's commentaries that develop Dio even more fully beyond the manga. So there's really no excuse for media that treat Dio as some sort of empty vessel waiting to be filled by narrative cliches we already know and expect.

It's annoying too, because, along with its OOC content, the musical is peppered with occasional manga-consistent moments. It's like the musical is camouflaging its Very Bad Take on Dio by having Mamoru Miyano periodically re-enact the canon character's most famous panels. The musical wants simultaneously to take credit for bringing Araki's vision to life on the stage, while at the same time completely undermining its most important element: a capital V "Villain" who, according to Araki, "accepts and embraces his evil nature, and follows his dark path without hesitation." This is the biggest change the musical makes to Dio: musical!Dio has none of the confidence that allows canon Dio him to move so decisively and destructively through the narrative.

Musical Dio is introduced by a scene where he's bullied on his way home, before breaking into a song about how terrible his life is, where "everything is always taken from [him]" ("it's hell …I feel nauseated …[I'm] under a cloudy sky.") The song is alternately tearful and hopeful. "I'm going crazy from being robbed!" he laments and then pollyannaishly muses, "hey, Joestar, can you turn my [cloudy] skies to blue?"

If Dio being introduced as a sad sap and self-described perennial loser hoping for any break sounds attitudinally unfamiliar that's because it is. Araki went in the opposite direction: he started his story by subverting the cliche - wide-eyed poor boy victimized by circumstance leaves his sorrow-filled life hoping for a new start - and instead gave us a kid with surprising, even sinister agency. Dio is not just given a hero's upward narrative arc (something Araki crafted very deliberately), he's introduced improbably in his first scene from a position of control. This fact is important because in the manga it's a position he won't lose until four chapters and nearly 100 pages in, when Jonathan finally fights back. From the time young Dio is introduced - reading a book with his back turned to his bed-ridden father who he's secretly poisoning -

- to the time he's systematically broken down his adoptive brother's spirit by alienating him from his friends, taking Erina's first kiss, and of course kicking his dog, Dio is shown as being in control and on top (Erina drinking the muddy water is the only exception). It's OOC to imagine 12-year old Dio feeling sorry for himself because at the time he's introduced, he's already made a habit of getting what he wants. By the time he sets off for the Joestars after killing his first dad, he's already developed full confidence in his abilities and the inevitability of his rise to riches (something Araki has him explicitly state and then underscores with a panel illustration of a steam train signaling the rise of Modernity).

But the writers and director of the musical don't find this characterization interesting enough or something. So they lose the canon entirely and in its place they invent a version of Dio who's despondent. And they didn't get Araki's steam train memo so they miss the Modernity theme (even though Araki's tied Dio so tightly conceptually to the idea of the Modern that he has him "use a 20th century boxing technique in the 19th century"); instead they double down on class difference being determinative. It never occurs to them that Dio is written specifically by Araki with the freedom to move outside of his social status because he sees it as artificial (the "evil elite" monologue later reveals Dio thinks of the whole social contract thing is arbitrary and voluntary).

Throughout the musical, Dio (although it's not fair to Mamoru Miyano since he isn't responsible for writing this mess, let's use mamoDio from now on because it's easier) seems to idolize the Joestars for what he calls their "beautiful blood." Not "beautiful" because usable calories for the vampire he will become but "beautiful" because noble. The Joestars' noble status and the honor that's apparently behind that status become the shining "star" toward which mud-bound mamoDio flailingly, failingly reaches. I don't need to tell you that in canon Dio doesn't have respect for nobility.

"Mud and stars" is heavy-handedly introduced as a dominant theme of the musical. According to the play, Jonathan, noble and bright, looks to the stars while human Dio, pathetic, conflicted and even confused, can only see life as a mud-soaked prison.

Now, the mud and stars thing was only used in Part 1 as a single text element on a Volume 1 illustration but, in spite of its marginality, it's becomes a liturgical text for some fans looking for an explanation for Dio's actions beyond what Araki gives them in the actual narrative. To this sort of fan, a guy who embraces his inner talent for evil and never had the misfortune of developing a moral compass isn't the right type of villain because he's unapologetic. If the villain doesn't have excuses how can you apologize for him? So they need Dio and by extension Araki to give them a "good enough" reason to accept Dio's ever-escalating atrocities. If the reasons Dio has for doing the things he does lie outside of what's considered good or acceptable, they are simply rejected and new reasons are invented in the hope of making Dio much less objectionable.

Now, like I said earlier, Araki's repeatedly told us in his writings that Dio has an upward narrative trajectory, not a downward, "mud"-bound one. The mud and stars duality fails to describe the narrative journey of the two main characters: both look upward to transcend their circumstances and travel along a shonen manga hero's rising path. (In fact, it's Jonathan who needs a good push to realize his potential, something Dio happily provides). And it's Jonathan, not Dio, who Araki first gives a downward arc, being handed defeat after defeat for those first four chapters before gaining his footing and progressively rising to Dio's challenges. "Mud and stars" isn't just a bad choice of metaphor, it's a misleading one.

Back to the musical, mamoDio is the exact opposite. An air of sadness and insecurity haunts his performance. An original scene where George presents the mud and stars dilemma as a lesson highlights Dio's lack of confidence and the depression that lurks behind it, as Dio bemoans how people doomed to "struggle and die" cannot possibly summon the hope it takes to look up to the stars (he's talking of course about himself).

Likewise, and here's where mamoDio's failure as a character really comes into full relief, seven years after this, when Dio's machinations are revealed and he's about to be arrested, before he uses the stone mask, mamoDio drops to the floor and spends the better part of a musical number in tears, bemoaning his sorry life ("I'm trapped in a prison covered in mud… no matter how hard I struggle I'm crushed…") and his lack of noble blood.

(btw this is after the manga scene where Dio fake cries; here, mamoDio is genuinely distraught).

Contrast this to the actual scene in the manga. His expressions in these panels are memorable because of how assured Araki draws him. Dio's entire world - his poisoning scheme, his grab at what one can assume would have been the entirety of the Joestar estate - is about to end but instead of despairing, he launches into a philosophical soliloquy. His body language is haughty: this isn't mamoDio crawling on the ground and decrying his upbringing and lack of noble blood, instead this is a man who apparently, almost irrationally, perceives himself as noble. When he uses the mask, Dio is smiling widely. Metaphorically speaking, he's looking at the stars.

When mamoDio uses the mask? He's on his knees. He's in tears. On one night he interjects, "Mother…" In short, he's conflicted.

One of these depicts Dio. The other does not.

Now obviously the writers and director of the musical must think making these seismic changes adds something to Dio's character. But (and I feel like this is a theme whenever I write these things) I'd argue it only makes him more basic. It makes him predictable and formulaic, someone we've seen in countless other stories.

(Oh! and did I mention mamoDio repeatedly calls himself "useless"!! Because he does this.)

Now, because mamoDio has no confidence and as a human acts out of desperation, when he becomes a vampire he still isn't Dio. Mamoru tries to make his vampire Dio evil and scary by expending a lot of energy, running about the stage and sticking out his tongue ad nauseum. When you look at how Araki has Dio move physically throughout the manga, it's the opposite of kinetic. Dio is a point of fixity who's charisma draws others toward him (ask me for more on this if you want because there's enough here for its own post).

Now for the worst of the worst: at the very end of the production, after the manga ending that features Jonathan's death and Dio's (presumed) defeat as a head imprisoned in Jonathan's arms, the musical takes an original twist in which, following a finale number featuring most of the cast, mamoDio is lead offstage by Jonathan. You read that right. mamoDio is hunched over, resigned, and Jonathan seems to take on a paternal role. Although the lyrics would have you believe this has something to do with "two fates becoming one," it's clear from the stage direction that any embers of Dio's ambition are being tamed and extinguished as Jonathan takes Dio's grasping hand, subdues him, and leads him docilely into the darkness.

It turns out Dio's vampire arc was just a phase, a hurt and lonely child lashing out and making a mess for attention.

His body language here is obscenely out of character. Consider the following because, as I said in the opening, in spite of what all these re-writes of Dio would have you believe, Araki crafted Dio with specificity and consistency: Araki only draws Dio (with very few exceptions) 1) standing tall, looking down at you; 2) back turned, looking back and down at you; or simply 3) back turned, (performatively?) ignoring you. Dio is never on the ground except when he's knocked down (think, young Jonathan finally fighting back in the Joestar home or, much later, Jotaro stopping time and landing those punches). By constrast, mamoDio has spent an incessant amount of time of the ground, crouching, kneeling,, bowing, hunched down. Who is this guy? So his hunched-down exit in the final moments of the production, literally being led by Jonathan (controlled??), is so amazingly stupid that if I didn't have a gif as proof, you might think I'm just making this stuff up:

There's plenty more to unpack that I won't address here: ghost Dario. The lack of grave-spitting. The complete absence of true joy or leisure expressed by Dio especially during his vampire era: no woman eating her baby, no owlcats, no Poco's sister. No chaise lounge. No roses(!). No fun. Not for Dio. That would be too manga-consistent. That might mean Araki wasn't giving us the appropriate message that bad guys are actually just sad guys.

tl;dr Dio isn't in the Phantom Blood musical. He's replaced by a normal guy who's motivated by a lack of self-esteem and despair that he wasn't born into an upper-class household, or something. He's boring. The result? There can be no Part 3 in this musical's world (and presumably no Parts 4, 5 or 6, no Giorno, no Jolyne, … you get the picture) because mamoDio just gives up. It's a nicely produced little tale about Jonathan Joestar and some random other guy who at some point gets a funny green coat.

[its-time-to-write]

I saw you asked for requests a few days ago. I was wondering if you would consider doing another part of the Kent!reader x Jamie fics.

I was thinking they do end up pregnant and its them telling everyone they’re pregnant . I can see everyone being so excited for them. And then Roy is just freaking out.

Since they’ve already discussed wanting to be together forever and have kids I can also see them deciding to get married before the baby is born in a small ceremony like Beard had.

I have quite a few requests about Jamie x reader having a kid, so if that ain’t your jam, maybe don’t read my next few posts😂 It’s totally my jam tho, maybe bc I’m suffering from baby fever again. thanks for requesting and for your patience!!

let’s fall in love for the night  

Jamie’s jiggling his leg up and down so fast that you’re surprised he hasn’t cramped yet. 

“Calm down,” you hiss, hand on his knee. 

“Can’t,” he whispers back. “Roy’s gonna fucking kill me.”  

You have no sympathy for him. “Yeah, and whose fault is that? Yours.”

Jamie shoots you a sideways glance. “Excuse me, this was a team effort.”

“Whatever,” you say. “I still say it’s your fault.”

Molly swoops by to refill your water glasses. “Dinner’s ready in a few minutes. Roy and Phoebe have been working very hard,” she says. 

She raises her eyebrows on the word very, and you’re sure that Roy’s patience is being pushed to his limits. He loves cooking and refuses to let anyone help him, but he also loves your niece and can’t deny her anything she wants. 

“Better go check on them,” she says, leaving you and Jamie alone again in the backyard. 

Jamie resumes the previous conversation and says, “Well, I wasn’t the one wearing that blue thing with the flowers.”

“Well obviously,” you shoot back, “it wouldn’t even fit you.”

Jamie’s stopped jiggling his leg and he places his hand on top of yours. “Oi. Has Roy ever actually killed anyone before, or does he just have serial killer eyebrows?”

You wrinkle your nose and ask, “Why the fuck would I know?”

“You’re his sister,” Jamie replies in Phoebe’s patented duh tone. 

“I’m his baby sister,” you say. “I’m even younger than Molly. If he’s killed someone, they’ve both conspired to make sure I’ll never find out. And hey, don’t make fun of the eyebrows. There’s a good chance this baby’s gonna end up with them.”

“Babe you don’t have ‘em,” Jamie points out. 

“I wax,” you say smugly. “Oh, Molly texted. Time to go inside.”

Jamie groans but lets you lead him to the table. 

—

All told, Phoebe didn’t do half bad. 

“Auntie, I did the potatoes all by myself,” she says. 

You look to Roy for confirmation. He grunts and gives a tiny nod. 

“Great job, Phoebs,” you say. 

Molly sets down her fork. “I’ve been thinking of changing my name back to ‘Kent,’” she says. 

“Brill,” says Jamie. 

“Fucking finally,” Roy says as he hands Phoebe some money. “For future words,” he mouths to her as she counts it before depositing what you’re pretty sure is 20 quid into her pocket. 

Molly says, “We’ll all be the Kents again,” and you can feel Jamie go stiff next to you.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” Roy asks, and you turn to see Jamie’s gone completely pale. 

You pinch his thigh and he jumps. “Nothing,” he says hurriedly. “Well, not nothing. But, I dunno, don’t want to overshadow Molls’s good news, ya know? It ain’t important.”

You pinch him again. 

“Ok, it’s actually a little fucking important (sorry Phoebe, take it from Roy). But um, maybe you could help me babe?”

He shoots you a pleading look so you take pity on him. You’ve had more than twenty years dealing with Roy, so you’ll let Jamie slide this once.

“Right, so, we’ve been meaning to tell you- I’m having a baby,” you blurt out. 

Roy’s dinner roll gets crushed in his hand as his face goes bright red. 

“What,” he growls, and you’re not sure if you’re more terrified by the absence of “fuck”s or the fact that it was a statement, not a question. 

“That’s wonderful, love!” Molly says before Roy can say anything else. She’s not looking at him but you can practically feel him take psychic damage from the shut up and be happy you prick, message she’s sure to be telepathically sending him. 

“It’s Jamie’s, right?” she continues, taking a bite of salad. 

“The fuck kind of question is that?” you ask indignantly. “Who else’s would it be?”

“You don’t have to pay me for that one,” Phoebe pipes up. “I’ll give you a free tab of one hundred words because of the baby. If it’s a girl, you can have fifty more.”

You grin. “Sounds like a plan.”

“You’re probably going to owe her the fifty, Phoebs,” Molly says. She points to Jamie with her fork. “I mean, look at him. He practically screams ‘girl dad.’” 

“That’s- fucking- great,” Roy garbles out. “‘Scuse me.”

“We’re having a backyard wedding next Saturday, too,” you call after him. “So we probably won’t all be the Kents again.”

You wince as he slams a door from somewhere in the house. 

“He’ll come ‘round,” Molly says consolingly. “Remember how he was with Phoebe? And I was already married!”

You grip Jamie’s hand. “Molls, why can’t he just emote like a regular person? I mean honestly, did our parents fuck him up that bad?”

Molly raises a shoulder in a half shrug. “I don’t know, babe. Think he’s just like us, really, afraid of loving something so he just pushes it all away. And besides, you’re the baby of the family. We’ve always tried to protect you and keep you safe, and sometimes he feels like you’re out of reach.”

You ask, “He told you that?” and Molly just laughs. 

“Not in so many words,” she replies. “But you know how he is.”

“He’s an arsehole,” you grumble. “I’m going to go talk to him.

—

Roy is, predictably, in the backyard. Not many places for him to go and think properly. 

You find him sitting under the tree. 

“Oi,” you say, “budge over.”

He grunts and moves so you’re not quite in the dirt. 

“Can you be sitting on the ground?” he asks. 

“It’s been like three months,” you reply, “That isn’t long enough for me to get stuck places.”

Roy says, “hmm,” but doesn’t offer up anything else so you just sit in silence next to him, pressing your shoulder to his. 

“Why the fuck did it have to be Tartt?” he asks after a beat. “Could’ve been fucking anyone in the fucking world, and you fucking chose him.”

“You like Jamie,” you say in confusion. 

“I don’t,” Roy replies, “he’s a prick. And a fucking footballer. Why’d you have to go for a fucking good-for-nothing footballer? He can’t even be around for his family when they go through shit because he’s going to be busy scoring fucking meaningless goals or some shit.”

That stings for a moment, but you take a good look at Roy’s face. It’s stoic, but shit if you can’t read it like a book. Blood is blood, and you’re a Kent just like him. 

“This isn’t about him, is it. It’s about you. You think you did a shit job as a brother and an uncle so Jamie’s going to be a shit father.”

“I missed out on a lot,” Roy says hoarsely. “And before you say fucking shit, I’m not fucking crying. So shut the fuck about it.”

You grin and wrap your arms around him. “You’re the best big brother a girl could ask for. Took all my cues from you. And anyway, you’ve been there when it counts. Phoebe fucking adores you, practically attached at the hip you two. And yeah, Molls and I missed you when you were at Sunderland and Chelsea and wherever. But… you came back. We needed you, and you came back. So don’t go projecting your stupid self-image on Jamie, because he’s not like that. And you’re not either, you absolute fucking ape-armed frizzy-haired shit-faced twat.”

Roy huffs out a chuckle. “Ape-arms. Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

“Almost went with ‘camel knees.’ Haven’t used that since I was ten, but I thought it might hit too close to home these days.”

Roy laughs for real this time and tilts his head so it’s resting on yours. “Still fucking weird that my little sister’s having a kid.”

You say, “You’ll get over it. Oh, and don’t wear a goddamn T-shirt on Saturday.”

—

It’s rainy, so the backyard wedding becomes a living room wedding, because who really gives a shit? Richmond have a game tomorrow, but for today they’re in yours and Jamie’s house all dressed up (but still in trainers) laughing and smiling as Dani officiates what you’re sure is your dream wedding. 

It’s not the one you and Molly would’ve giggled about as kids when you sneaked from your bed into hers, but everyone you loves is here. 

For once, Jamie’s house almost seems too small.  

(Dani was the only person you two knew who was ordained or whatever. And hey, could you have picked a happier person for it?)

Molly and Keeley had gone out with you to find a white dress, Sam and Phoebe were the flower-people, and Roy walked you down the stairs to where Jamie was standing with Isaac by his side. 

“I’m not fucking crying,” Roy whispers in your ear. “It’s fucking allergies from being in this prick’s house for too long.”

“It’s my house too,” you remind him. 

Roy just sniffs, pats your hand where it’s tucked into his arm, and presses a kiss to your cheek.

All in all, it was pretty great. 

Gifts range from hair products to restaurant gift cards to designer baby clothes, including a tie-dyed onesie from Phoebe. 

“I have a matching one at home,” she explains. 

But now it’s the evening and everyone is gone except family. 

“Can’t believe my baby’s married,” says a beaming Georgie as she ruffles Jamie’s hair from their place on the couch.

“Can’t believe he attained his childhood goal of marrying into the Kent family,” Molly remarks. 

Jamie grins smugly. “What can I say, I’m a fucking goal-getter.”

You’re snuggled in Jamie’s arms, dress exchanged for a white sweatshirt and sweatpants set, courtesy of Rebecca. 

“I’d’ve had a poster of you on me wall if they made one, babe,” Jamie says. “Better sight than that hairy git.”

Roy just rolls his eyes and says “I’m getting another beer.”

“Can you bring me a piece of cake?” you call after him.

“Me too?” Phoebe asks, looking hopefully at Molly. 

Jamie pats your knee. “Don’t think he heard you, love. I’ll get it for ya. You too, Phoebs.” He shoots a wink in her direction, and she giggles. 

“Oi, grandad,” Jamie says, walking into the kitchen. “Did you hear your sister?”

Roy turns around from the fridge with a menacing look.  

“If she has a single moment of unhappiness, I’m going to fucking kill you,” he growls.

“Jesus, sorry,” Jamie says, hands in the air. “What’s got your knickers all in a twist?”

Fucking Jamie, never able to back down from a good squabble with Roy. 

They’re both keeping their voices down because they know if they got caught, no less than three people would be grabbing them by the ear and yelling. 

They might know this from personal experience. 

Roy says, “She’s my little sister. I’d fucking murder for her, and so would Molly. Always tried to make it easier for her when she missed our parents and shit, but it always fucking got to her anyway. Didn’t help that I fucked off to Sunderland at fucking nine, before she was even fucking born. She’s wanted a family of her own for fucking ages, and if you fuck this up for her they will never. Find. Your body.”

Jamie’s not sure Roy’s ever looked this menacing, which is saying something, because he’s Roy fucking Kent. He always looks menacing. 

So he nods and says quietly, “I ain’t gonna fuck it up, Coach. Had a shit dad too. Always wished he were around, except when he was then he’d get all fuckin’ angry and shit. But… still wanted him, y’know? Weird. Anyway, not gonna be like that with her. I want a family too.”

Roy looks straight into his eyes, looking for the barest hint of insincerity. Jamie’s gaze doesn’t waver. He’s not sure of much, but he’s sure of this. He’s sure of you. 

Roy says, “Right,” nods once, then claps Jamie on the shoulder right at his phone dings. 

Jamie pulls out his phone to a text from you that reads, pls stop fangirling over my brother. baby wants cake and so does ur mum

He smiles and tries to figure out how to balance three plates at once. 

[evilfrogcereal29]

Mmmm so high, don't smoke kids the bong tells you awful things....

Can't stop tginking about aware!cod character aus. Where cod is just a video game and ur just a super fan, but for some reason in ur copy of the game, all (or only some you can decide) of them are aware, and like, deeply begging for you to pick them. They crave your attention.

Bonus points if it becomes a yandere/obsessed situation (i guess the term yandere has become outdated and offensive but im not sure? Idk i had someone ask me not to use it once cause they said it has bad orgins....but i still see stuff labeled 'yandere![character here]' stories everywhere, so idk if its still appropriate to use but idk any other way to put it except obessed but i think that still doesnt get the point across well... I'm weed rambling, someone lmk if its still ok to use yandere... If not mb, I'll use a different term, back to sin)

They start making their way out of the game into your entire pc/console. Waking up to find your screen turned on, with cod loaded up, despite you definitely being sure that you 1- turned the tv off, and 2- didn't even play cod today.

Oooohhh god the days you don't play cod are HELL for them. Please please please play everyday :( they get so lonely without you. Its so cold and lonely inside here. Please (y/n).

But since cod is kinda... Shit... Nowadays... Just being a bit honest its gotten cash-grabby....you play less and less, and they know its not their fault, but it makes them ache. They need to get out of here. Before you forget about them forever. PLEASE. don't forget about them. If they get into your phone somehow (you had your phone charger plugged into the same outlet your pc/console was plugged into, they just took a short jump and hop across into your device :] no biggie) it makes them so happy when they see you liking posts about them on Tumblr ^\\^!!!! Especially when the posts are... Rather naughty...

Always listening in on your, watching you from your pc webcam or phone camera.

Imagine if they leave the game their model dissapears too... So the dissapointment you might feel if you load uo the game again, and think your game is glitched when, seemingly no matter how many times you relaunch, uninstall and reinstall, and reset the game entirely, the character(s) won't show up :(( what the fuck man?

If you buy another copy there won't be any issues actually :) these ones arent alive!! Although... I can't promise your safety much longer, as doing this is a surefire way to piss the hell out of whatever character is on you, probably spending most of their time at this point in your phone, or if you have an apple or techy watch, that, since its close to your skin and they love that! But playing with an unaware version of them is so... Jealously inducing. You were dumbfounded when your entire screen turned off, and every light around you started flickering wildly... What is going on? Maybe you shouls call an electrician? (He won't be able to remove them, nothing will)

They'll find a way out one day♥️ its just a matter of time sweetheart, or maybe they'll pull you into their world, being digital ain't so bad darling... let them show you... Get closer to the screen.

It does not help my bf got me a bundle with nikto, his normal skin, AND his powercell skin... So im brainrotmaxxing currently.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk☺️ love u guys /p (you may think the /p stands for platonic but NO, its standing for Passing out...goodnite)