#this hell will end this week and i’ll be more active (i believe so)

[luxaofhesperides]

I'm not sure if you're still taking Ghostlights requests, but if you are: Dick asking Duke to take Haley to the dog park for him in order to set up a meet-cute for him with the guy with the weird green rottweiler

And if you aren't, just know that you're doing great and I appreciate the hell out of you

“Oh, shoot!” 

Hearing Dick rush around as a frantic mess is not uncommon while he’s in Gotham. There’s too many people wanting to spend time with him that he ends up pulled in a bunch of different directions. Dick’s always in a rush, always busy, always making time for people because he has more love than Duke has ever seen in a person.

Dick’s also got pretty good time management skills after years of doing this. He’s only cutting out a few minutes early for their designated three hour catch-up session. 

That doesn’t mean he’s going to do it gracefully, though.

“Almost lost track of the time!” he says, moving to the couch to pick up his jacket. “Hey, Duke, can do you me a favor while I’m out?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Can you take Haley to the dog park? I usually take her twice a week around this time, but I totally forgot to include that in my calendar this week so I’ve got plans with the Titans just outside the city, and no time to take her out.”

“Yeah, man, of course I can take her to the dog park. The one attached to Robinson Park, right?”

Dick nods, shoving his shoes onto his feet. “That’s the one! Her treats are also in the bag hanging next to her leash. Oh, and she has a friend at the dog park! Don’t be scared when you see him, he’s just green.”

“Oh…kay?”

“Great, thanks! Bye, Duke, I’ll see you later!”

And with that, Dick is gone, closing the door to his safehouse as he dashes into the hall. 

Duke is left alone in Dick’s Gotham safehouse, blinking dazedly at the empty space where he once was. He’s certainly a whirlwind of activity when he realizes he’s going to be late. He’s also skilled in just saying things and leaving before any questions can be answered.

Haly jumps up onto the couch next to Duke. They share a look, then Duke shakes his head. “You have to deal with that every day, huh?”

Haly, the good girl that she is, doesn’t say anything bad against her owner and just puts a paw on Duke’s thigh, her tail wagging. 

“I hear ya, girl. Let’s go to the dog park to meet your green friend,  I guess.”

He has no idea what that means, honestly. Is Dick just talking about a dog that got its fur dyed green? Or is Haly’s friend like… a mutant dog? 

Well, he’s not going to find out by stalling. 

Duke pets Haly, then stands up and walks to the door. Her head perks up as soon as she hears the jangle of her leash being moved, and then she’s running to the door, looking up at him expectantly. Smiling, Duke slips the harness onto her, then attached it to the leash. He gives her another quick pet before shoving on his shoes and grabbing her bag of treats and waste disposal bags. 

He double checks that he has his phone, then takes hold of Dick’s spare safehouse key and steps out into the hallway with Haly. She waits patiently as he locks the door, checks that the lock holds, then runs down the hallway, ripping the leash right out of his hands.

“Haly! Wait! Stop, girl!”

She happily ignores him and goes straight for the elevator, leaving him to run after her and quickly scoop up the leash as soon as he’s close enough.

“Of course you’re a little escape artists,” he says to her, “Just like your owner.”

Haly woofs softly, then stands up and scratches at the doors of the elevator. Shaking his head, amused, Duke pushes the button to call the elevator and wonders if Dick has to deal with this every time they go to the dog park. 

On one hand, it wouldn’t surprise him since Dick is absolutely the kind of guy to give in to his dog’s every whims and spoil her rotten. On the other hand, Duke fully believes that Haly is smart enough and cute enough to misbehave only when Dick isn’t around so he never believes people when they try to tell him about all the mischief she’s caused. 

Dogs and their owners really do reflect one another. The internet was right about that.

Duke makes sure to keep a tight grip on Haly’s leash once they leave the apartment building. The streets are busy, as they tend to be on weekends, and the sight of Haly straining against her leash, ready to run, brings a smile to more than one face. 

He plots the route to the dog park in his mind, then starts up a light jog, tugging lightly on the leash to prompt Haly to follow him. 

It’s nice to run just for the sake of it. Haly makes a good running partner as well. 

How long has it been since Duke had time to relax and not be prepared for the worst? All the running he usually does these days is to catch up with criminals or run for his life. Being out during the day, moving through the city, without any lives in danger? Genuinely nice and relaxing. 

Maybe he can offer to take Haly to the dog park from now on. Join Dick whenever he goes. Create a set few hours where he doesn’t do anything but enjoy being outside in one of the few places where the smog of pollution and chemical toxins isn’t so thick in the air. 

He’ll just have to make sure Dick doesn’t agree to something else during those days. It’s still strange to think that Dick could forget to do something involving Haly when he’s such a good dog owner and a pro at juggling various responsibilities and a busy schedule. 

Well, they all have off days. This must be one of Dick’s.

The sidewalks get wider once they reach the street that leads to the park. Families fill up the space, walking with strollers in front of them or lined up at a food cart. The vivid green of spring fills the grassy fields that lead to the large patches of trees, marking the edge of Poison Ivy’s territory. Clovers decorate the ground, bees moving from flower to flower. 

There are other dogs on walks as well, making circuits around the park or running after toys. Duke spots a cat in a walking harness as well and wonders if he can convince Damian to get one for Alfred the cat. 

The dog park is on the other end of the park, as far away from Ivy’s territory as possible. The fenced off areas are separated into big dogs and small dogs, with a helpful guide as to which dogs go where posted at the entrance. 

Duke slows to a walk, breathing deeply to help settle his heart rate back down to something normal. Haly walks by his side, tail wagging, as she watches the other dogs run back and forth behind the fence. 

She’s still small, just growing out of puppy size, so Duke leads her into the small dog area, carefully making sure the gate doesn’t open enough for any quick dogs to make a break for it. He walks over to a bench and sits down before undoing the harness on her, setting her loose. 

Haly licks his hand once, then darts away, barking lightly as she joins the other dogs tumbling around each other. 

Amused, Duke leans back at watches as the other dogs sniff her, then do their funny little bowing stomps, moving back and forth before running off so she can give chase. 

He figures staying for an hour will be good enough. That should get the most of her energy out, and then they can make the long trek back to Dick’s safehouse so he can pick her up before he heads back to Bludhaven. Pulling out his phone, Duke settles in to wait, keeping half his attention on Haly just in case any of the other dogs decide to get a little too rough.

The first twenty minutes pass peacefully. Haly runs around and the owners of the other dogs give her pets when she runs up to them. One even went over to Duke to offer him a pack of fruit gummies. 

Then a loud bark fills the air and Duke jerks upright, watching with wide eyes as a colossally large dog, green and glowing and slightly transparent, comes barrelling down the street, headed right towards them. 

He doesn’t have time to yell Haly’s name before the dog is in the fence. None of the other dog owners look alarmed, though, so he watches carefully, prepared to jump up and save Haly at a moment’s notice.

“Cujo!” someone yells from down the street. A guy with dark hair comes running up and smoothly jumps over the fence. “Cujo, how many times do I have to tell you not to run off like that?”

The green dog, apparently Cujo, barks happily.

“And you’re too big for this park right now, buddy. Shrink, boy. It’s time to be small.”

And then Cujo… obeys? The dog shrinks, and instead of being the size of a bus, it’s now small enough to be carried in someone’s arms. 

Green dog is not enough warning for all of that. Dick owes him so much for this.

Actually, he’s kind of shocked that Dick never mentioned this to anyone. Surely a giant green dog would get people’s attention. Why is this the first time he’s heard about it?

“You new around here?” someone asks, and Duke turns to see the person who gave him the fruit gummies.

“Kinda? It’s my first time coming to the dog park. I’m looking after Haly, that one right over there.” He points out Haly, who is running in circles around Cujo.

“Ah, I see. Dick mentioned someone new would be coming today.”

Duke narrows his eyes. He’s starting to get the feeling that he’s been set up for something, but he’s not sure what. 

“I’ll give you the spiel we tell all newcomers, in that case,” they continue. “Cujo is a ghost dog. Poor thing died during some animal testing, far as we know. Danny looks after him, since Cujo got attached to the kid years ago before he moved to Gotham. He’s a kind one, but very nervous, and we’ve all got an agreement to keep quiet about him and Cujo round this parts. You better be holding your tongue, as well, ya hear me?”

“Sure thing,” Duke nods. “My lips are sealed.”

He’ll just ask Dick about the ghost dog situation and do his own investigation if needed. But Cujo is just a dog, and his owner is just a guy. Nothing threatening, nothing requiring a Bat’s attention.

“Good,” they nod. “I’ll get out of your hair now.��� They’re gone before Duke can reply, adjusting the hat on their head as they head back to their group in the back left corner of the dog park. 

Satisfied that things are under control, Duke relaxes back into the bench, watching Haly and Cujo tumble around with the other dogs, barking happily. Haly’s still growing into her paws, so she trips and falls often, but gets up without a moments pause, ready to keep playing.

From the corner of his eyes, Duke catches sight of someone walking towards him. 

He looks over and finds Cujo’s owner—Danny, wasn’t it?—approaching. Their eyes meet, and Danny offers him a sheepish smile and a wave. His eyes are a dark blue that seem to glow with some otherworldly light, and Duke can swear he sees something shifting around him, as if the air has turned visible and twists around his body like wisps of smoke. 

“Mind if I sit with you?” Danny asks, and Duke moves to the side a bit.

“Go ahead,” he says.

“You’re Duke, right? Dick told me about you last week.”

It’s looking more and more like Dick is up to something, and Duke will need to get his revenge. “Did he? All good things, I hope.”

“Aha, yeah, all good things. Um, actually I think I should apologize? I maybe said you sounded like my type so Dick promised that he’d get you here somehow. Sorry if this is messing up your plans for the day.”

Oh. Oh! 

Well. That’s interesting. 

Duke quietly shelves his plans for revenge against Dick and takes a proper look at Danny. He’s shy, but with a bright smile, glowing eyes and strange smoke curling around him still, and messy black hair windswept from chasing after Cujo. There’s a flush in his cheeks and his long fingers fiddle with the string of his dark red hoodie. 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t have any plans today. This is way better than just sleeping all day.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Danny laughs, “There’s nothing I like more than being able to sleep all day. That would fix me for sure.”

There’s a loud bark, and Danny’s eyes snap back to Cujo, who is growing bigger. “Cujo!” Danny yells, voice sharp. “Shrink down, or we go home.”

Cujo grumbles, whines, then goes back to being little. The green dog only has a moment to look sad before Haly is tackling him, sending them back into another chase around the park. 

“Sorry about that,” Danny says, slouching against the bench. 

“It’s all good,” Duke replies. “So. I’m your type, huh?”

Danny’s cheeks turn a deep, charming red. He looks away, then nods and ducks his head down. 

“And that hasn’t changed after meeting me?”

Danny shakes his head, then peeks over at Duke, gaze slowly moving up his body until he meets Duke’s eyes. “Definitely hasn’t changed,” he says.

Now it’s Duke’s turn to feel his cheeks burn, flustered and pleasantly surprised by Danny’s boldness. It doesn’t help that Danny is cute, someone he can see himself falling for. 

“Good,” he says, then knocks his knee against Danny’s. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know you more. On one condition.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“Tell me what Dick told you about me. I wanna make sure he wasn’t sharing an embarrassing stories about me. If I’m gonna make a fool of myself, then I’ll do it myself with no outside help.”

Danny’s laugh is bright and warm and sends butterflies dancing in Duke’s stomach. “Fair enough!” he says. “And you know what? I’ll trade you for embarrassing stories. Trust me, I have so many. Nothing you’ve done can be worse that the dumb shit I do on a regular basis.”

“Woah, woah, woah, confident, aren’t we? Don’t say that until you’ve heard about some of the stupid situation I choose to throw myself into.”

“Please, I’m an younger brother. If anyone knows how to be stupid, it’s me.”

“I’m part of the disaster that is the Wayne family. I think that has you beat.”

“My parents are mad scientists and my dog is a ghost. Try again.” The teasing smile on Danny’s lips makes him want to be reckless, to keep pushing, to go down this path as far as he can.  Duke can’t remember the last time he clicked with someone so instantly, to be so comfortable with them so soon. 

Damn. He’s gonna have to thank Dick for this, isn’t he?

As if on cue, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Duke pulls it out with an apologetic smile to Danny, who leans back a bit to give him some privacy.

The text that pops up is from Dick. It’s a photo of him and Danny from the side, heads bent close together as they talk with bright smiles. He can just make out the wild red curls of Kori’s hair. 

“I’m gonna put jello in his socks,” Duke says cheerfully, already looking around to find where Dick is hiding. 

He probably already moved locations, the ass. 

“What’s up?” 

He holds out his phone so Danny can see the screen. Danny stares at it, then looks around, then stares at the screen again. 

“...Is he watching us?”

“Yep.”

“...Should we do something about it?”

Duke shrugs. “I mean, I’m up for hunting him down and tackling him if you are.”

“I can do you one better,” Danny says with a sharp grin. He whistles, and Cujo comes running over, Haly at his heels, and he skids to a stop to sit before Danny. “Cujo. You remember Dick?” Cujo barks, as if answering. “Fetch! Go fetch Dick!”

Cujo jumps to his feet, grows from the size of a pug to a bear, and takes off for the art instillation farther into Robinson Park. Moments later, they hear a yell followed by loud laughter, and Cujo and running back, Dick hanging from his mouth, with Kori, Donna, and Roy following after him at a leisurely stroll. 

“I think we’re gonna get along great,” Duke says. “He’s gonna wish he never set us up.”

“That’s the way to do it,” Danny agrees.

“Say, wanna grab lunch together tomorrow?”

Danny blinks, then blushes again. “What, like a date?”

“Yeah, as a date. You up for it?”

“How could I say no? I was promised embarrassing stories.”

He watches as Cujo drops a rumpled looking Dick to the ground, half his shirt soaked with saliva. He dramatically mimes being shot in the heart when he sees them both looking at him, and goes limp when Kori picks him up and tries to set him on his feet. 

Then he tries to act very calm and cool as Danny leans against him. “Think he’s gonna follow up on our date?” Danny asks in a low voice.

Duke closes his eyes and tries not to despair. He didn’t even think of that. “Worse. He’s going to tell everyone else, then we’ll have every available Wayne kid stalking us on our date.”

“Guess I’ll have to rely on you to chase them off, huh?”

“Or we can sic Cujo on them again.”

“Or that,” Danny nods. “It’s always effective.”

He’s really going to have to bring his best to the date tomorrow, just to stay a step ahead of everyone else. Maybe he’ll ask Barbara for a favor and get her to lead them off? And if Bruce gets involved, then Duke is fully prepared to flashbang him, grab Danny, and run. 

It’s going to be a disaster.

It’s going to be fun.

He’s already looking forward to it, and from the mischievous smile on Danny’s face, he’s not the only one.

[fictionalreads]

This Was Never Meant to Be What It Feels Like (Part 3)

A/N: Heeeeeeey...How y'all doing?....I know it's been a couple weeks when I said days but a part of this just did not want to be written! Also, this one is a bit of a beast, just over 5,200 words. This is the final part of this lil mini series, I hope y'all enjoy and the conclusion is satisfying for you guys.

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Original Female Character

Fandom: Bad Boys Movies

Prompt: Mike gets a couple visits, Shay has some news and Armando makes a decision.

Warnings⚠️: Cussing, Mentions of bad parental relationships, uh.... I think that's it for this one.

Mike Lowrey was no stranger to being called into back rooms for an off the books meeting. What was unusual was the CBI agent waiting for him when last time he checked none of the cases he had been part of lately had anything to warrant federal attention. Well, besides the one with his son but he had been cleared almost a full year ago now and Julie had corroborated his story. Nah, this was something new.

“Officer Lowrey, I’m Agent Garrett with the California Bureau of Investigations. Please have a seat.” She was standing at her full height on the other side of the table while gesturing to one of two chairs in the room, the only one near him. He saw straight through her bullshit tactics to make him feel like she was in charge and had the upper hand.

“It’s Detective Lowrey and think I’ll stand. Now why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what the hell you want.” Her jaw tensed and he just barely managed to hold back a smirk. She wouldn’t get what she wanted by using the same perp tricks he had been using when she was still in diapers. You can’t bullshit the bullshitter.

Coming clean, she began, “I’ve been put in charge of running a task force out in LA, similar to your AMMO squad here. Our goal is to find and stop cartel drug from entering the country, maybe stop a few murders while we’re at it.”

So this was about Armando, just more recently than he thought. Damn son of his was definitely payback for the hell he raised when he was younger. If he was back on his shit, he might not be able to help him this time.

“Sounds like a good idea. I wish you luck,” he stated, feigning ignorance as to what this was really about.

“Your son Armando Aretas has many connections on the west coast that could be useful. Figured I could use him to knock down some of my open cases.”

She clearly had found out their connection, but he still wasn’t sure what she wanted from him. “I don’t know if you’ve been watching the news lately, but my son isn’t here in Miami. He’s been on the run for the better part of a year. I don’t know where he is.”

“You’re his father.” Agent Garrett takes the chair on her side of the table. “If anybody could find him, it’d be you. You’d know where to look right?” The flattery, the subtle leading questions to confirm what she believed and the sitting gave her away.

She was desperate.

If he had to guess, those open case files were all big cases that had her boss breathing down her neck. She’d probably been given an ultimatum with her job on the line and now she was desperate to do anything that would get her back on top, including working with a wanted man.

Mike sat. “What are the terms?”

“Terms?”

“What does Armando get in exchange for helping you?”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Terms are you don’t go to prison for aiding and abetting a murderer and he doesn’t get a bullet in his head immediately. Don’t know if you know this but cops aren’t a big hit in prison and I’m betting that’s especially true for you.”

“Don’t fucking insult me, please. Aiding and abetting implies I know where he is and I’m actively helping him. I’ve already told you I don’t know where he is. But like you said I’m your best shot at finding him. I’m also your best chance at not getting your men killed and losing him again. I’m not doing this shit without some assurances on his end. So I’ll ask again. What does he get for helping you?”

She shook her head. “You know when I came up with this whole thing, I did my my research on you. Figured I should know who I was getting into bed with. Everything I read told me you were one hell of a cop, always got your guy and made Miami just that much safer. Are you, this great cop, really going to bat for a murderer like him?”

That was where her approach was faulty. She was trying to appeal to his cop side, but he was a father first. “No, I, a father, am protecting my son.”

“I can offer him protective custody, knock some time off his sentence depending on how fruitful his tips are.” She offered lightly.

Too lightly. This was her throwaway offer, the one she knew was shit but was hoping he’d take anyway. So he called her bluff.

“He won’t come in for that. He had that deal with me already. All the shit that went down last year? The bodies dropped had to be put on someone and he got ‘em since he was a convicted felon, one that was alive and a part of the mess. Not to mention he ran off and became a fugitive. He’s looking at almost double what his sentence was when I arrested him. You’ll have to do better.”

Agent Garrett seemed to be debating with herself. She let out a heavy breath,”I’ve been authorized to grant him a special deal.”

Now they were getting somewhere.

“What kind of deal?”

“The kind that puts my ass on the line.”

Something about this whole interaction was bugging him. “Tell me something. Why are you willing to put your badge on the line for someone you clearly can’t stand?”

“I don’t trust Aretas. But this isn’t about me. Its about making my city safer. His intel could be the key to shutting down major operations. He has connections everywhere, and that’s what I care about. I’m not putting myself on the line for him, I’m doing it for my city.”

“You sure you’re not doing it for your bosses? They up yo ass about getting shit done?”

“I proposed using Aretas. They were against it. Said we were cleaning up just fine but I’m tired of cleaning up after the fact and only getting low level dealers. I want to cut this thing off at the head.”

“At the end of the day that’s my son. I need to know that somebody has his back. Why should I trust that that’s you?”

“Like I said this is my proposal. My bosses made it clear that if he fails I fail. He gives me the wrong intel, he leads us astray, he turns on us, I’m fired. I’m just as invested in his success because I have something to lose too.”

“What’s the offer?”

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

“Hi, I’m looking for Mike Lowrey?” Shay swallowed down the feeling of nausea, hoping it was just the nerves making her feel this way.

“He’s not in at the moment, but I’m his wife Christine. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Shay hesitates. Could she do anything? Hell she wasn’t sure what this Mike Lowrey could do for her either. She flew all the way to Miami, and for what? Some detective Armando had left the name of in case she needed help? This was a bad idea. She knew he was a cop, and after looking him up a supposedly good one, but how could she trust him when he socialized with a murderer? Ignoring her own dalliances with the man, she could only think about the fact that Detective Mike Lowrey had sworn to arrest people like Armando, not be someone they trusted.

She felt overwhelmed for the millionth time in the past month and a half and was debating just leaving when Christine offered, “why don’t you come in? Mike should be home soon and you can wait inside for him instead of in the heat.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the heat, Christine's sweet voice coupled with the endearing British accent or the way her face screamed warmth, but she found herself saying, “yeah. Yeah okay.”

Christine opened the door wider for her to enter and Shay marveled at the inside of the house as much as she had the outside. This guy was definitely a dirty cop. There was no way he was able to afford this on a detective’s salary. What the hell was she getting herself into?

“Please have a seat,” she gestured towards the couch.  It looked like it was more for the aesthetic than actual use but she was pleasantly surprised to find it very comfortable. “Would you like something to drink? I have water and that disgusting stuff my husband calls sweet tea,” Christine joked.

“Water is fine,” she replied with a smile. Shay watched as Christine stepped past a wall into what she assumes was the kitchen. The creeping sensation of nausea hit her once more. Digging in her purse and finding a ginger chew, she didn’t see Christine come back in the room with a bottle of water. Almost instantaneously she felt relief, so maybe it was all psychosomatic. Just her nerves going haywire.

“How far along are you?” Shay startled at the question.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.

“It’s okay. What makes you think I’m pregnant?”

“I saw the chew and just assumed.” 

She didn’t believe that for a second. “Some assumption based off just a ginger chew. What if I just like them?”

“Honestly the chew was just the cherry on top for my assumption. You hold yourself the same way my sister held herself when she was pregnant for the first time. A bit unsure, scared definitely, but ready for war all the same.”

Well, damn. She didn’t know she gave off that much with just how she stood.

Ignoring how unexpectedly open she felt, she answered Christine’s question from before.“Thirteen weeks.” Suddenly Shay realized how this could look, a random pregnant woman showing up looking for her husband and not telling her what she wants, so she quickly explained. “It’s not your husband’s!”

Christine laughed brightly, “Oh darling the thought never crossed my mind. Mike may have once been that guy, but he’s not anymore. He’s a good man.” Shay kept her doubts to herself.

“Christine? Who’s car is that out front?” The man she assumed to be Mike Lowrey was juggling a duffle bag and struggling to get his keys out of the door, not once looking in their direction.

Smirking like it was a game, Christine replied, “It’s a rental.”

“Why do we need a rental?” He finally looked up, noticing Shay in the room. She could see his guard go right back up.

“Mike, this is Shay. She was hoping to speak with you,” his wife explained to him.

“Do I know you?” He was blunt but not unkind with his words, something she hoped would continue in their conversation.

“Mike!” Christine admonished before turning to Shay with, “Please, excuse Mike. He can bring his interrogation tactics into other parts of his life sometimes.”

“It’s okay. If a random woman showed up saying she needed to speak to me, I’d probably question it too.” She was hoping her understanding would get her some traction and not immediately thrown out when he found out why she was here.

Mike still held caution in his face. “So…?” He left the obvious question unspoken, wondering who she was and why she was here in his home.

Shay paused. She wasn’t sure how to bring it up and didn’t want to say anything in front of his wife in case she truly had no clue her husband was a dirty cop. She may have been desperate enough to find this guy,  but she wasn’t going to be the one to ruin this poor woman’s marriage.

Luckily Christine picked up on her reluctance to speak in front of an audience and excused herself. “I’m going to head upstairs for a moment, give you two some time to talk.”

While Shay relaxed, Mike tensed. Once Christine was gone, he questioned her. “Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

“I was told if I ever needed anything, I should find you.”

Mike carefully focused his attention on sitting his duffle near the armchair, going to take a seat himself. He might not be looking directly at her anymore, but she knew all of his attention was on her as he spoke. “Who the fuck told you that? Better yet, why my house? Why not meet me in the station?”

Ignoring the second question, she replied, “Armando Aretas.”

Mike’s head snapped back to her. She was almost concerned for his neck with how fast he moved.

Continuing at his silence she said, “I figured you wouldn’t want to discuss him at work.”

“What about him?”

“He was in LA a few months ago.”

He first whispered to himself, “Dumbass don’t listen.” Then he spoke louder, clearly to her this time, “What does this have to do with you and why you’re here?”

She wasn’t sure where to start. How does one tell a dirty cop working for one’s murderer baby daddy that you need him to tell said baby daddy you were pregnant? “We were…together. I’m pregnant now.” She hoped he would catch on without her spelling it out but he didn’t.

Instead, Mike blinked. “What?” A million unidentifiable emotions ran over his face before he carefully shut it down, facing her with no emotion at all now.

“I am with child, in the family way, carrying a bun in the oven, whatever you want to call it.” There was still no response from him so she continued her rant, “look I’m not asking for him to come back or pay for anything. I’m fully prepared to take care of this kid myself, but not even trying to tell him was weighing on my conscience. So I figured if I found you like he said, you could pass on the message for me. I just need to be able to know I did everything I could to let him know.”

She had prepared for a lot of responses to her plea. Anger on Armando’s behalf, a dismissal, hell even laughter at her audacity, but his next words were ones she somehow missed in her spiral. “I’m not in contact with him.”

Shay tried not to be hurt at his response, not for herself, but for her baby. Okay, well a little bit for herself. She was in love with the man-yes, still- and knowing he truly didn’t leave a way to contact him again crushed the little bit of hope his note had left behind. Why would he send her to Mike if it wasn’t a way to get in touch with him? “So why would he tell me to find you?”

A pause.

“Armando’s my son.”

The statement was so far from what she was expecting to hear that she paused. “Wait so you don’t…you don’t work for him? With him? Whatever.”

Mike laughed loudly, “nah, I don’t work in that world. I stand by the badge.”

“So how did he…?” She trailed off, confused.

“Look our situation is…complicated, but if he sent you in my direction I’m gonna help you in any way I can. I mean, I’d love to get to know you and be in my grandchild’s life if you’ll let me.” His words were reminiscent of the night she had asked Armando about his family. He too had called his relationship with his father complicated.

Despite the unknown of it all, his offer was partly the reason she had found Mike. A family for her child, something she never really had. “Yeah. Yeah I’d like that.” It may not be exactly what she was looking for, but she would take what she could get. At least her baby would have some connection to their father’s side of the family. But she still had a question, one that had no answer now that her assumptions were corrected.

“So if you aren’t dirty, how do you afford living like this?”

Mike let out a laugh louder than the one from before. “I’m a trust fund kid. Never really had to work but all I’ve ever wanted was to be a cop.”

“Sounds like one hell of a trust fund,” she scoffed.

Turning serious he impressed, “One that continues to grow from a few investments made along the way. This kid will have that same freedom. They’ll be able to do whatever they want in life and never have to worry about money.”

That statement alone almost made her cry. She didn’t have much growing up, wondering if she and her mother would even be able to eat everyday. When she had found out she was pregnant, despite making more money than her mother did she found herself worrying her child would have those same experiences.

She may not have Armando, a partner she’d hoped to have, but he had made sure she had everything she needed.

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Habitual but flexible.

That was Armando’s motto. Habitual in the precautions he took but flexible enough everywhere else to not create patterns. Patterns were how you got caught, and Armando refused to be put in another cage. He always double checked his locks when he left his place, checked his surroundings before leaving and arriving at his place so as not to run into his neighbors. The less people who could identify him the better.

Which is why seeing his door wide open as he turned onto his street was so unsettling.

Normally he would just leave town, dump this alias and start over with another elsewhere, but there were a few things he didn’t want to part with. Upon his first return to Mexico, he had managed to find his mother’s emergency stash and in it was a photo of the two of them before he was forced out of the prison when he turned six. Despite his conflicted feelings on his mother’s choices and the lies she told him, he still loved her and this was all he had left of her.

If she were around she’d chastise his sentimentality.

He also had a letter his father had written him when he left Miami that he kept because even with the complexity of their relationship, he still wished he’d had the opportunity to get to know him. He wished he could have done things differently. That letter may be his only chance to know his father, even a little bit.

The last thing was a photo of Shay. He had taken it one morning before he left on a polaroid camera she had lying around. The sun had been rising and he remembered wishing what they had could be real, that he could stay in bed and wake up with her instead of having to run out and lie all the time. It was the only thing he had left of the only relationship he’d ever have again.

So he weighed his options. Either he went in and fought whoever was there, grabbed his things and hopefully made it out in time to not get caught, or he left now and hoped whoever it was left without calling for backup so he could get his things before leaving town. He either risked his freedom or he risked losing the only items that reminded him of his humanity forever.

He pulled his gun and carefully made his way into the apartment he’d called home for a couple weeks.

“Don’t shoot, it’s just me.”

Armando relaxed, but kept his gun in his hand. “What are you doing here Detective?” His tone was snippy, as though his father speaking to him was a bother. He knew that wasn’t true, but it was like he couldn’t help the animosity that came out when he spoke to his father. No matter how much he’d love to try with the man, he’d just get so angry about it all that it came out confrontational.

“What? A man can’t see his son?” Mike didn’t rise to the obvious bait of his tone, instead trying to lighten the mood with a tease.

Armando simply raised an eyebrow at the deflection. “Not when that man is a decorated detective and his son is a fugitive,” he coldly stated. He needed to know what Mike wanted so he could get on with his life. Who knows how many eyes are on the man, he was risking Armando’s freedom, not that he seemed to care. Irritated at the lack of concern for him, he accused, “you risked the badge once just to let me go, you won’t risk it again, not even for me. It means too much to you.” I don’t mean enough to you went unsaid but not unheard.

“Armando I’d risk everything for you.” The fight left Mike, and he sighed, finding a seat on the edge of the bed. “You’re my son and I know I’m not the best at showing it, but that shit means something to me. Our relationship means something to me. I didn’t have the best relationship with my father so I told myself I wouldn’t have kids cause I didn’t want to repeat the cycle. But then I found out about you. And despite the fact that circumstances made it so it isn’t easy, I still don’t want the cycle to be repeated. I love you man. I’ll do whatever you need me to, to prove that to you. Including walking away if you say no to my proposal.”

There it was. The real reason he was here now, he needed something like always. Armando put his gun away in exasperation. He was so tired of just being used that he couldn’t help but get a jab in. “Whatever man. This don’t mean shit to you. It’s all transactional for you, I’m good enough to help you get what you want and that’s why you come around. So what is it this time?”

“Is that what you think? That I don’t care about you?” What the hell else was he supposed to think?

“If you did, you would have come to see me in prison without needing my help on a case.” He argued before quietly following up with, “I would have been enough of a reason to visit.” He hated when this stupid hurt boy routine flared up. He looked weak, like una puta.

Mike stood and stepped close to Armando. Refusing to back down, Armando met his stare head on, ignoring the way his throat was getting tight and tears were pooling in his eyes. “Armando I never needed you on those cases. I knew that if I could get intel from you and put you down on paper, it would help you out. I was trying to help.” He blinked and a single tear made its way down his face. It was too much now and he had to look away.

Mike placed a hand on his shoulder, continuing, “I love you. Nothing is more real than that. If I had known you would take my help as me using you, I never would’ve asked for your help.”

Facing his father once more, Armando spoke lowly, “Si lo hubieras sabido, ¿te habría importado?” He didn’t explain what he meant, knowing his father understood what he was asking.

“Nada me hubiera importado más.” Mike asserted.

He nodded, finally having an answer to the question that had been burning inside him. He focused on the reason Mike was in front of him, not the emotions his answer stirred in him. “What’s the proposal?” He asked much more calmly this time around.

“LAPD is starting up a team like AMMO. They were hoping to recruit you to be a part of it, use your knowledge to help stop cartel drugs from entering the states.”

“And go back in a cage? No I’m good.” He shook his head, a clear no coming from him.

“You wouldn’t be arrested again, you’d be put up in an apartment. Free to walk the city after an initial probationary period of just work and home. After that, there would be twenty-four hour surveillance, random drug tests and check-ins. Eventually you would become a private citizen.”

It sounded like a trap. “If I don’t give them what they want I get arrested right?”

“Yeah, but I have all the faith you’ll be great at it. Plus I made sure it was as ironclad for you as possible.”

“Why would I agree to this? Sounds like a lot could go wrong and land me back in prison. If that happens I’m never getting out again.”

“You aren’t the killer your mother made you into. You only did any of it because she fueled you with rage and ideas of revenge before she pointed you at a target. If you were really a killer, you would’ve killed me anyway. You live by a code, and only do what’s necessary. No more, no less.”

Sometimes when he was feeling really low he’d think about what his life would have been like if he’d had a normal life. Would he have chosen violence anyway? He’d like to think he’d hav e chosen to protect. Maybe be a firefighter or an EMT cause he was still an adrenaline junkie, but maybe he wouldn’t have to hurt anybody. If his father was saying the same thing he thought, then maybe he could believe it to be true. Before he could think on it, his father spoke once more, shifting his whole world.

“Besides, Shay’s pregnant. We not giving another generation of Lowrey these bullshit daddy issues.”

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Six Months Later

“Marcus we ain’t got time for that shit.”

“I just asked the man a question!”

“No, you used the question as a cover to try and buy some damn skittles.”

“Oh so now you the skittle police? I thought we worked narcotics?”

“Yo ass ain’t supposed to have that shit and you know it. Don’t try to make it out like I’m the one that’s going overboard.”

“Aye Mike what would they call the skittle department? The rainbow division? Don’t worry everybody! Mike Lowry is working the rainbow!”

“That’s homophobic.”

“It’s the slogan! What else would it be called Mike?”

“Why the fuck are you here?”

“Man fuck you-“

“Your presence really wasn’t needed-“

“I’m just trying to be a good friend-“

“This is a moment for my family-“

“And now I’m not family to you?!”

“You called my family fucked up remember?”

“Yo son was tryna kill us and his mama was gonna let us burn in a fire!”

“Are you pendejos done?”

“Mike! That mean assholes right?”

“Yeah he just called us assholes. But Imma let it slide cause he got to be high on that new father shit to call me an asshole.”

“Nah I just think he don’t respect you. That’s what you get for not raising him. My boys would never.”

“Marcus!”

Shay knew this could devolve again if she didn’t get their attention. “Guys! Do you want to meet her?”

The men focused their attention on the baby Shay was holding against her chest. Marcus visibly melted at the sight, Mike simply softening his shoulders with a small smile. 

Armando joined Shay, leaning on the bed using a finger to trace down their daughter’s arm. When he spoke, he kept his eyes on his daughter. “This is Amada Rose Lowrey.”

“Lowrey?”Mike coughed.

Armando shrugged. “I wasn’t actually an Aretas, I was supposed to be a Lowrey. Figured she and I could claim our real family name.”

Mike nodded. “That’s cool man. Real cool,” he choked out.

“Awe Mike,” Marcus cried.

“Mm-mm Marcus. Stop it right now.”

“But Mike he’s taking your last name!”

Ignoring his bumbling partner, Mike walks over to Shay, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “How you doing Mama?”

“Extremely sore, but happy.”

“Well you did good, she’s beautiful.”

“You wanna hold her?”

Knowing his father’s aversion to holding babies, he goads hims, “Yeah Papa, wanna hold her?”

Surprising them all, he said, “You know what? I will.”

Shay handed her daughter over to Mike, making sure he supported her head correctly.

Armando joined Shay on the bed and wrapped her in his arms now that she wasn’t holding the baby. He simply watched his father holding and whispering to his baby girl with fond eyes, knowing his daughter would know nothing but love and presence from the man. They would have a real relationship right from the start. He and Mike themselves had been working on things, talking through the lies and anger and getting to a better place.

“How’s work? They give you any time off?” Marcus asked him.

In the end there hadn’t been a choice. He was going to be present in his child’s life, no matter what and sneaking into LA would just get riskier every time he did it. If he didn’t get caught just trying to get to his family, he would’ve gotten caught because if how much he would’ve been there to see them. And he’d be damned if he was raising his child from behind bars so he took Agent Garrett up on her offer.

He turned to face his uncle, replying, “Good, we wrapped a case a day before Shay went into labor. I’ll have about a couple weeks at home with the girls before I’m expected back.” 

It had somewhat surprised him how seriously Marcus had taken to being his uncle. The man was supportive of his new role with the LAPD and called almost as often as his father did, checking in and making sure he was being safe. Seeing him at the hospital now wasn’t a shock at all.

“I’m just glad they gave him any time at all,” Shay interrupted. As his employment with the LAPD wasn’t under normal circumstances, he wasn’t sure if they’d grant him time at home with his girls. Agent Garrett had stuck her neck out for him once again and gotten him twelve days exactly.

Armando leaned down and kissed her, forever grateful for the woman who stood by his side despite his past. She had lost a couple friends when they found out who he was, the ones that stayed had definitely judged her and never truly came around to him as a person. She never wavered though, taking it all with grace and holding his hand as they planed for their future. He couldn’t wait to ask her to marry him.

Amada let out a cry, disrupting his internal debate on the pros and cons of asking her right that moment. He knew it probably meant she was hungry again, so he shifted his hold on Shay so she could get the b baby again and feed her.

“I think that’s a cry for mommy,” Mike chimed as he passed the baby back.

“Yeah Mike you ain’t got the right equipment,” Marcus tossed out.

Mike turned to Marcus incredulously. “Now why would you say some dumb shit like that?”

“You don’t!”

Armando turned his attention from the bickering men, whispering to his little family, “Here they go.”

Honestly, though? He wouldn’t trade his family for nothing.

A/N: Don't forget to leave a comment or reblog/like! What did we think? I have a few other ideas in mind for Armando but I'm not sure how they'll play out, so I'm CAUTIOUSLY open to prompt from you guys for drabbles. Please keep in mind that I can't do smut.😅

Translations:

Una Puta - A bitch

Si lo hubieras sabido, ¿te habría importado? - If you had known, would you have cared?

Nada me hubiera importado más. -Nothing would have mattered to me more.

Pendejos - Assholes

Taglist:

@yeahnohoneybye @bootlegroach @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful

[royalsweetteaa]

Title: Take cover

Pairing: Winter soldier/Bucky barnes x reader

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - The following fic contains: dark themes, stalking, obsessive/protective behavior from Bucky, Bucky is semi delusional/mentally unstable, fluff (in the end), reader is a bit naive, post-CATWS, Bucky on the run, fluff.

Summary: you discover someone has been watching you, - but like a guardian angel or a viscous stalker? You’re about to find out.

“I know what you’re doing.” You called out to the man hiding in the shadows. “Leave me the hell alone.”

For weeks you had noticed something off with your daily routine. You felt watched, - like someone had their eyes following your every movement as you went about your days.

It was about a week in where you caught a man walking the same route as yours a distance behind you. It wasn’t the first time you had been followed, - in fact you could have sworn you were followed by three men a while back but they disappeared after a second glance. This guy was someone else entirely though.

You had never seen him before, and while it could have been merely a coincidence that he was taking the same routes you take on a daily, that reassurance was quickly crossed out when you started to test him, - to see if while you stood still he’d walk right past. But he never did. When you stopped or slowed your tempo, so did he. When you walked a different route, so did he.

It was beyond creepy, and it didn’t help that he was dressed basic with his cap hiding his face and a brown jacket. Only thing that made him different from other men was his longer dark brown hair and his taller figure. Not many men in town were quite as tall as him, which made you feel even more threatened.

As you became more aware of him, you stopped taking afternoon strolls and tried your best to be in crowds to feel safer. It didn’t work much as he never seemed to loose track of you though. Walking into your favorite cafe didn’t stop him from waiting around the area to continue his stalking as soon as you got out. You didn’t think he could have a job with how much time he was occupying following you from work to back home.

You thought of going to the police, but in this town in particular there was little to no such luck of getting actual help from the police, let alone a stalker case where the guy in question could argue he’s just walking around by his right to do so. So, it left you with two options; either hope for the best of not getting murdered (or worse) by your stalker or confront him.

The 5th week was your last straw, and you decided to go with the confrontation as you were standing outside of your apartment, eying directly at the man who had done nothing but walk after you.

The man was stunned when he heard you, not leaving his spot, - as if he couldn’t believe he was caught. When your eyes at him told otherwise, he left the corner of the next block building, slowly walking towards you.

He mumbled, “I’m sorry, I was just…”

“Stop following me or I’ll call the police.” You interrupted with a harsher tone.

This seemed to make the man agitated, and he reached out his hands in surrender. “No, please! Don’t! I have a perfect explanation for it all. Hear me out, - I won’t get any closer to you.” He offers reassurance, not making you any less scared but he sounded convincing enough to give him a chance of explaining himself.

First thought that came to mind was he could possibly be working for secret service, or something like that. Crimes had been on the rise in this part of town, and there had been rumors of FBI lurking around to check after illegal activity. But what could you have possibly done to make yourself seem suspicious?

“I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you think. I promise, I would never. The reason why I’ve been following you all this time is to protect you, Y/N.”

How does he know my name? You had to wonder. “Protect me?” You repeated his answer in question. “What’s that supposed to mean? From what? Who are you?” You added questions, emphasizing the last one.

The man swallows before he answers, “My name is James but friends in my past used to call me Bucky, - I think. And I’m protecting you cause…there are a lot of terrible people around than you realize. People who would want to hurt you. I knew the moment I saw you that I was meant to protect you from those people.”

He thinks his name is that of what he told? Trying to protect me from terrible people? His answers confused you even more. He must be on something, and it freaked you out knowing you were dealing with a crazy person. “Y-You should seek medical attention. I don’t think you’re in your right state of mind -!”

“You don’t understand!” He interrupted you and broke out. “You’re the only thing, - person, who brings consistency to my life. Me using hours and nights looking after you, to make sure you leave for work and come home safe gives me a purpose. I… - I have nothing left to live for.”

Your lips fall a little, sad as you had only heard those lines in fiction used typically of that one hopeless character clinging to the last branch of hope before it all falls for them. Why did you have to be so sympathetic? You had no idea who this man was. One thing for sure, he was a fucking stalker.

You should call the police as you speak, but you don’t want to.

Why didn’t you want to? Why weren’t you running into your apartment and locking the front door? Why did you want to get a closer look at him?

“Sir, I…”

“Call me Bucky. Please.”

“Bucky, listen…I don’t know your life story, but this isn’t healthy. This is obsessive. We don’t even - you don’t even know me!”

“I know enough to like you.” He argued. “I know you like animals, - you sometimes trail off from your main path home over to the park to watch the dogs play there. You order any sweets at the cafe but only if there’s strawberry or vanilla in it, - strawberry milkshake, vanilla shortcake, - you name it. I know you’re a good person, always opening the door for the elderly by the library and voluntarily help stack books by the shelves. I have caught you smiling when you read romance novels. Those seem to be your favorite genre. You live alone, no siblings or parents in the picture that I know of. You’ve always been…alone, for as long as I’ve been watching after you. That makes the two of us in a sense.”

Why did he have to call you out like that? Sure, it was nothing but the truth. You didn’t have people you could call friends at work, and you had long ago lost contact with your friends from college. Also, you did in fact have no siblings but you did have parents - you just weren’t on speaking terms at the moment.

You were alone as one could possibly be.

You didn’t know what you could add to what he had said as it was mostly true, but you didn’t need to as Bucky continued, “First time I laid my eyes on you…three men walked behind you in that lonesome street in the evening. I know you saw them cause you turned around once. They had knives in their pockets, and one of them had a rope. I was only a small distance away when I heard them say ‘let’s get her’. So, as you made the corner, I beat them up, one by one. Because like I said, I wouldn’t want anyone to hurt you. You don’t deserve that at all. You deserve to be safe. That is why it’s you. It may sound dumb but I believe it was fate. I feel at peace when I know you’re okay, and I can’t remember the last time I felt that. He doesn’t allow peace in my mind, but he seems to make you an exception.”

You’re simply taken away by what you had been told. So your gut instincts were right, - you were followed then too, except apparently they hadn’t just disappeared. Your stalker took care of them.

Bucky let you process in silence till you started to get closer to him as you asked him all of a sudden, “Are you armed?”

“No…- well, I do have this…” Bucky reveals as he removes his jacket carefully, showing the metal arm he has forcibly attached to him. Your mouth parts a little, your eyes widening at the sight before you turn to look at the ground.

“You don’t have a place to stay?” You ask.

He shook his head with a sigh. “No. But I’m used to it.”

You look up again, offering the unexpected, “Come. I have an extra mattress in my apartment. You can use that while we figure out your situation.”

Bucky looked up at you in awe, beyond shocked of what you had just suggested. If it wasn’t dead quiet at this time of hour, he would have assumed he heard you wrong. “But why? I thought you said that…”

“I have heard of you, you know. That metal arm of yours with the red star…you have been around for quite some time, yet you haven’t aged. My uncle who worked for the military knew about you as he was a witness at the Hotel Inessa where an assassin with a metal arm just like yours committed a massacre. Ever since that day he used the next years connecting the dots to previous cases, and he told me all about it once. That was before…he got taken out within the base. No one knew for what particular reason but I always knew. And what do I know, he was right. You’re real. You’re the winter soldier.” You conclude, putting Bucky on the spot as he realized just how small the world was.

The odds of someone outside of government officials knowing of his past was unlikely, yet here he was, the one person he found purpose with knew about it. He didn’t like it. She must think I’m a monster, - rightfully so, he thought. “I don’t know what to say…I-“

“You didn’t kill him.” You cut him off, “Person of interest was described to have two human arms. He was presumably a Russian spy within the base and took it upon himself to take out my uncle before more came out about what he knew.”

He shrugs, “Still…it doesn’t make sense why you would allow me into your home, - now knowing what I’ve done, what I was controlled to do. It was still me. So again I ask…why?”

“Because, I need answers,” you reasoned. “And knowing what I’ve learned about you, you would have taken me out a long time ago if you had plans to do so. And it’s clear to me that you’re a bit out of it but from what I understand, seeking psychiatrical help is out of the question for you. So let’s help each other. You’ve been in hiding, right?”

Bucky nodded again, “They’re still after me, you know. I can’t drag you into my mess.”

“Well, you have been good at hiding so far, and if something happens you’ll protect me, right? Like you’ve done all this time.” You remind him.

He smiled shyly as he let out a quiet ‘yeah’. He was sure he would keep doing that with his life.

With that, you let him into your place, not aware that this was only the beginning of a heartfelt relationship with the ex-winter soldier himself, - one that would bond the two of you for eternity.

N/A: I know this was short but there might be a part two for this if I’m feeling up for it! Let me know what you liked and if you’d like a next part.

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! Thank you!

[owl-with-a-pen]

Outside of superhero emergencies, Kara didn’t tend to lean into her super hearing where she could avoid it. Girl’s night at her apartment, for example, definitely shouldn’t have called for it. Then again, she wasn’t usually the subject of discussion in just about every apartment block on her street.

So, maybe that wasn’t completely true. She’d certainly heard her name mentioned a lot more since the whole secret identity reveal thing; it was just, nowadays, instead of hearing Supergirl, it was usually Kara Zor-El.

She was used to it. She’d been used to it for years; her name was normally a hot topic days, if not weeks after a major save was broadcast. The only difference now was… not all of those voices were as positive as she’d come to expect.

Like right now, for instance. No matter how hard she tried to shut it out, she couldn’t help but listen for that same voice echoing from hundreds of homes across the city, streaming from earbuds, speakers and laptops alike. His voice was charismatic and quick, like a less polished Maxwell Lord, and while he may have been a nobody just a few weeks ago, he’d certainly gained enough traction now to give Kara one hell of a headache.

Unfortunately for her, she’d inadvertently tuned herself in at just the right time for her downstairs neighbour to hit play:

“Alright folks, if you missed our last episode I’ll catch you up to speed. Last week, we rounded off at the crux of the Supergirl Problem; that she hasn’t just been living in our midst this whole time, but that she’s been actively working as a journalist for CatCo Worldwide Media. And, just a few weeks ago, she was publicly put in charge of the editorial process for that same media outlet minutes after she came clean about her alter-ego to the world. And, as I doubt Supergirl will want to speak for herself on the matter, we have one of her self-proclaimed super-fans in the house today to speak on her behalf. Say it with me at home folks, debate me, Supergirl!”

The aforementioned ‘super-fan’ let out a surprised scoff at her introduction. She didn’t waste a minute of her airtime, jumping immediately into the conversation: “Well, for starters, I think you’re taking this whole thing out of context. Supergirl didn’t just become a journalist for CatCo overnight. If you knew anything about Kara’s story, you’d know that she worked her way up the food chain for years! I mean, how empowering is that? She started as a PA!”

“Yeah, a PA with superspeed, how difficult. No wonder she ended up in Cat Grant’s palm! And yes, I do know her origin story, thank you very much.” The host’s voice crackled as Kara imagined him relaxing into his microphone. “Let the audience not forget that she was a PA for Cat Grant before she became a journalist. Are we really going to pretend that wasn’t her foot in the door?”

“Cat Grant wasn’t even her boss when she got into journalism,” argued the young woman. “And by the time Kara made a name for herself, Cat wasn’t even leading the company anymore! She got to where she is now on her own merit, no one elses!”

The host spoke over her: “It begs the question, did Cat Grant know this whole time? She takes a sabbatical only to re-emerge just in time to offer Supergirl a promotion. On top of that, she’s been promoting Supergirl for years! She created her – her words, on record. And now she’s put her in charge of media distribution. Get this: Supergirl is now in charge of the media we consume. Isn’t that a little self-indulgent?”

The young woman didn’t back down. “Kara Danvers was a Pultizer winning journalist long before we found out who she really was,” she argued. “She’s been standing for truth and justice just as much as Supergirl has. In fact, she’s just as much a hero as—”

“But what’s the agenda here?” the host continued with a conspiratorial air. “How can we even believe the news now it’s being headed by a liar? And she did, didn’t she? She lied to us all! She had a secret identity this whole time, and what? We’re just supposed to accept that? What’s the bet that this story will make a headline at CatCo magazine tomorrow morning, with my comments made out as Supergirl’s latest villain story? Or, better yet, will I be Kara Danver’s first official nemesis?” He barked out a laugh into his microphone. “There’s no freedom of the press anymore, folks, not when CatCo is bias towards the very hero that made it so popular in the first place!”

Before she could hear any more, Kara was thrown from her super-eavesdropping rather unceremoniously when a hand shot out in front of her face, waving impatiently.  

“Earth to Kara,” Alex said, snapping her fingers in front of her sister’s nose. “Hey, anyone home?”

“Huh?” Kara said before screwing her eyes shut, swatting away Alex’s offending hand. “Hey, hey, stop that!”

It was only then that she realised that it wasn’t just Alex who had been trying to get her attention. Lena and Kelly were staring at her from the opposite sofa. Nia sat cross legged on the footstool by the coffee table, nursing her drink with an expectant expression.

Kara glanced lamely at the TV. It didn’t look like anyone had been paying attention to the movie for quite some time.

Just how long had she been…?

Kara tried not to cringe.

Kelly cleared her throat, smoothing her hands over her lap. “From your expression, I’m guessing you were listening in on something pretty important.” She hesitated. “Is everything okay?”

Kara’s eyes widened. “What? Oh, oh no, it’s not a superhero emergency, I swear. Girl’s night continues uninterrupted, I promise!”

“Okay,” Nia said with a slow smile. “Then what was with the—” She mimicked Kara’s spaced-out expression a little too well, earning a few grins at her expense.

Kara pursed her lips. “Uh—I mean. It was nothing. Just…” She sagged in on herself awkwardly. “Okay, so I may have been listening to this podcast…”

“Oof.” Alex winced. “You don’t wanna do that.”

Kara groaned, falling back against the sofa. “I’ve been trying not to, but it’s kinda hard when half of my building’s listening to it.” She rubbed aggressively at her ears. “Super hearing can really suck, you guys.”

“Wait,” Nia said, perking up. “Are you talking about the Debate Me, Supergirl podcast?” When everyone turned to stare at her, she shrugged. ���What? Brainy’s been keeping tabs on all social channels for this stuff ever since your interview first went public, y’know, calculating the odds on them picking up any real traction. In case things go… south.”

“And what are the odds on this guy?” Alex asked seriously.

Nia made a vague gesture. “I mean, until a few days ago, Brainy had him in the unlikely category. But his latest interview with a Supergirl stan got a whole lot of attention on social media. They were basically at each other’s throats the entire time.” She took a mild sip of her drink. “People ate it up.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Of course they did. And I’m guessing from your tone, not much of the audience were on this super – uh – stan’s side?”

Nia pulled a face, taking an even larger swig.

Kara groaned again, burying her face in her hands. “This is awful. I- I just can’t believe how little faith they have in me now that they know the truth!”

Lena smiled her sympathy. “Take it from someone who was once deluded enough to fall right into that same category of hatefully ignorant.” She toasted her scotch glass to no one in particular, swirling its contents with a gentle twist of her wrist. “It’s not easy for people to accept that their larger-than-life hero was living amongst them.”

Kara’s head shot up in protest. “I never wanted anyone to put me on a pedestal.”

“Want has nothing to do about it. Like it or not, they did.” Lena paused, tucking her legs into the sofa’s arm. She fixed Kara with a level look. “Kara, I say this as your friend, but you have to understand how powerful you are in the eyes of a regular citizen. You fly, you shoot laser beams from your eyes, you’re bullet proof and fire proof. Your power is limitless and even though this city has seen you fall, they’ve also seen you get back up time and time again.”

Kara bit her lip. “That part I can understand, but it’s not just that. This podcaster isn’t only targeting my Supergirl persona. It’s Kara Danvers, Kara Zor-El that they don’t trust.” She snorted, throwing her hands wide. “They think the fact that I’m working as CatCo’s Editor-in-Chief makes the whole platform inherently bias. And – yes – I know I’ve fought my own biases in the past, and it’s not like being impartial was what won me a Pulitzer, but to them— a superhero in the press just doesn’t appeal. They think I’m a fraud, that I’ve been manipulating public opinion.” Kara could feel her face begin to flush in frustration. She ran a hand through her hair, standing just to put her energy somewhere. She slammed a fist against her palm, taking a step around the coffee table with every beat. “But, I mean, don’t they remember how CatCo turned on Supergirl after the Red Kryptonite incident? And rightfully, too. I lost the people’s trust then, and now—now it’s happening all over again and I just… I don’t know how to win them back,” she laughed through her teeth, “or if I can win them back!”

Alex took Kara’s arm swiftly as she passed her by, tugging her to her side. “Hey, no one said this was gonna be easy.”

“I think those were Cat’s exact words, actually,” Nia said helpfully, pointing in Alex’s direction.

Kara huffed, anchored by her sister’s steadying hand. “Yeah? Well, they didn’t say it would be this difficult, either.”

“Don’t listen to a few angry voices,” Nia insisted, her voice sobering. “They aren’t worth your energy, trust me.”

“Are they just a few?” Kara asked grimly. If she tried hard enough, she was sure she could still tune into hundreds of versions of that same podcast playing from across the city. Whether they agreed with him or not, the people of National City and beyond were listening to this nameless podcaster, and that was dangerous enough on its own.

Nia smiled tightly, balling her knuckles against her lap. “Just don’t listen to them, okay?” She closed her eyes. “Look, people like to make a lot of noise when they feel like they’ve been lied to, but the truth is, they were never entitled to that information to begin with. When I did my Dreamer interview with you, a lot of people were so supportive; some of them even saw themselves in me, but there were always hateful voices that tried to drown out the positive ones.” She straightened her back, opening her eyes. “But, y’know, they make that much noise because they know they’re in the minority, and they do not have the power that they think. Putting it into perspective like that… it’s a lot easier to ignore them, especially when I know how many people I’ve helped by sharing my story.”

“You’re right,” Kara said softly. Because she was. Of course she was. A single podcast spouting a single negative view didn’t diminish everything good that had come out of Supergirl’s identity reveal. Yes, the celebrity-level thing took some getting used to and openly flying to work made her something of a spectacle when it came to the office situation, but for the most part, Kara was relieved to have that weight off her shoulders, and it was a joy to know just how many aliens felt more confident to live as themselves now that they knew Supergirl had also shared their struggle.

In truth, the world knowing where she had come from, who she had been ever since she’d landed on Earth, grounded her to the people in a way that had never struck quite the same as just Supergirl. And that was worth any amount of growing pains.

Kara reached out for Nia’s hand over the coffee table, squeezing tight. “Thank you.”

Nia’s smile softened. “Any time.”

Lena cleared her throat, shifting higher against her pillow. “And, as for your job,” she said with a sly smile of her own, “let’s just say I know a thing or two about the public coming for your throat, deeming you unworthy of the position you’ve fairly worked your way up to. It’s just like Nia said, you ignore it, Kara. You ignore it because you have nothing to prove to anyone, you’re already doing one hell of a job as a journalist. Remain honest with yourself, and eventually people will see it. Not everyone of course.” She tilted her head, raising her glass to her lips. “You’ll never have everyone’s approval. If you did, well, I’d say you were on another planet, because that’s certainly not how the human race are wired.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Nia chimed in, leaning up to clink her glass with Lena’s. She caught Kelly’s glass on her way back.

Kelly smiled fondly, though there was a strained edge to her expression when she said, “We’ve all had to work twice as hard to prove ourselves. And as much as it hurts, that extends to Supergirl as well.”

Kara sat back down with a sigh, leaning into the embrace that Alex readily offered her. “Cat once told me the same thing; right after she’d first claimed Supergirl, actually.”

“Exactly,” Alex said with a sage nod. She kissed her sister’s hair. “And, hey, Cat Grant won’t let a podcast beat down her creation. Hell, her empire is built on powerful women, it always has been, always will.” She gestured to everyone in the room. “You are all prime examples of that.”

Kara nudged her sister playfully, pushing out of her arms. “Hey, well, the amount of times the DEO has personally kept that building from crashing to the ground, I’d say you’re an honorary member of Cat’s empire, too.”

Alex’s nose crinkled. “I think I prefer the title of badass DEO leader, but I’ll take it.” She grinned, rolling her eyes. “The point is, you have us, Kara.”

“Yeah.” Nia beamed. “And our opinion is worth a million times more than some crappy podcast.”

“Oh, cheers to that, too!” Alex laughed and they all converged with their glasses, meeting with a raucous clash over the coffee table.

Cheers rang out all ‘round, and Kara let the simple joy of that moment infect her. Their combined laughter easily blotted out any chances of hearing another word from that podcaster’s mouth.

She'd lost the taste for eavesdropping, anyway.

[thelamb1429]

Eyeless Jack Headcanons

Alright I’ve put these off for long enough so here’s some of my headcanons (like always, if yall wanna request anything just let me know, i’ll have more time to get things done this week <3)

Appearance Headcanons —-}

Jack was around 5’10 before he was turned into a demon, but afterwards be ended up growing to 6’11

Because of this, finding clothes to fit him is very difficult with his newfound height

Not only that, but his legs have become digitigrade legs. So normal pants don’t exactly work for him. So he tears off his pants a little below the knees and unfortunately has to walk around barefoot due to his animalistic feet

Speaking of animalistic? He has both a long tail with a tuft of fur at the end and long, furry ears on the side of his head.

His skin is a darker grey, and he has his hair in a protective style when possible (due to his claws he struggles a bit, but if he asks Nina or Jane they usually help him) (also i deeply apologize if the terminology is wrong, let me know and i’ll be sure to change it)

Having his hair up helps with his… activities

Sure, he can’t see, but he’s much more sensitive to texture and can’t focus on hunting down his prey his job if his hair or clothes are in the way of his work

Similar to many others, i headcanon him as having three long, black tongues which can each move separately.

I like to think he got a tongue piercing in college, so one of the tongues is still pierced

I headcanon him as being pretty thin and lanky in addition to his insane height. He probably was a bit on the thinner side in college (because nobody in college can find enough time to eat more than a microwave dinner). I imagine his current diet doesn’t let him pack on a ton of weight either, but he’s fairly athletic regardless

His voice is probably a bit distorted, like a few different voices layered together. Some people think it’s cool, but normally to others it’s off putting

Diet and Behavior —-}

He does not eat kidneys in my headcanons. Biggest reason why is that not only are they a generally unhealthy area to eat from (because they hold waste), they wouldn’t be nutritious for the exact same reason. Instead, he probably eats other organs in the abdominal section

He probably could store his meal and have enough for about five days at a time (if he rations properly). The longest he can safely go without eating is only two weeks, but he’s responsible enough to make sure nobody ever has to deal with that insatiable hunger

Now for behavior/personality!

I think that by becoming a demon he gained many feline traits. Not just the physical ones in terms of appearance, but others too

For example, i think he purrs when he thinks nobody else can hear it. At least whenever he’s purring for a good reason. Cats also purr when stressed, so he probably wouldn’t be able to control that near as much as he can control his happy purring

When he’s cold, his left ear twitches pretty much uncontrollably and it annoys the living hell out of the poor guy

His overall personality is probably still similar to the one he had before the incident. I feel like he’d be reasonably talkative, but i dont think he’s overly social. Just kind of average social battery

He’s definitely more of a thinker than a feeler, and i see him as someone who always has to see to believe

He’s probably very sarcastic, and i feel like his sense of humor is a bit jokingly nihilistic. Like that one “nothing matters!” Pic with the dolphin and the kid giving a thumbs up

General Headcanons —-}

He knows how to play the piano because his mom made him do piano lessons when he was younger. Of course, he can’t see now, so he adapted and learned to play by ear

He navigates the world around him by sensing heat. In a way, he can see in the way you can use a thermal camera. He also prefers to be by people he senses are warmer because he’s naturally cold as hell

He used to wear glasses before the incident. Even though he can’t see now he’ll sometimes put them on out of force of habit. It just feels weird to him to not feel the frames on the bridge of his nose

When he gets startled, his tail fluffs up like a cat’s does

Just for fun let’s say he makes biscuits on his pillows when he goes to bed

—————

Yeah some of these are super half baked and probably seem odd but hey if i come up with any more i’ll share them (i have so many headcanons for so many characters and too little time :/ )

[oscurascout]

Bad Sanses Adventures

A Bit Of Yoga To Relax And Break Your Spine

Masterlist

They were currently walking up a hill in another peaceful AU. Today, Nightmare had chosen the activity, and everyone was excited until they reached the top and saw what it was.

Cross - “Night, you do know that we’re going to break our spines, right?”

Nightmare - “That’s the point.”

Chara chuckled as Cross looked at Nightmare in surprise. They each positioned themselves on a yoga mat, now they weren't as excited as before.

Nightmare - “Alright, let’s start.”

Everyone was waiting for Nightmare to demonstrate how to do it, but instead, he went and sat down on a bench.

Killer - “Wait, wait! You aren’t doing it!”

Nightmare - “Nope, I’ll be directing all of you. The one who has the most incorrect poses will have to do whatever the winner says for one day. Also, you only have three chances.”

Cross & Killer - “What?!”

Nightmare - *smirks* “So do your best.”

Nightmare started the “game.” At first, everyone was doing relatively well, but then Nightmare purposely began to choose more difficult poses.

Killer - *in a back U shape, struggling* “N-Nightmare, hurry up!”

Nightmare - *smirking* “Wait, I need to remember what comes next.”

Dust - *about to fall down* “Nightmare, I swear my next prank victim is going to be you!”

Nightmare - “Tell me to hurry once more, and I’ll leave all of you like that.”

They immediately fell silent until Nightmare decided to continue.

Cross - *about to fall* “Help!”

Horror was the first to fall, taking Cross down with him.

Horror - *on the floor* “Sorry.”

Cross - *next to him* “Nah, I was going to fall either way.”

Nightmare - “Horror and Cross are down one. Let’s continue.”

As time passed, all of them fell down. Nightmare was having the time of his life; he truly felt happy. Causing for someone to noticed that happiness which prompted to them investigating.

Blue - *whispering* “Dream, are you sure you felt Nightmare having positive feelings here?”

Dream - *whispering* “Yes, how could I ever forget this sensation?”

Ink - *whispering* “It’s surprising to know that Nightmare can have fun with something other than just destroying AUs.”

They arrived in the AU where Dream sensed Nightmare was, and once there, they immediately hid behind some tall flora. They looked and saw quite a strange sight.

Killer, Dust, Horror, and Cross were upside down, their legs in all sorts of awkward positions.

Nightmare - “All of you are doing it wrong; your legs are supposed to form a Z.”

Dust - *struggling, almost falling* “What!? How the hell do you do that?”

Nightmare - *smiling* “I don’t know, but if humans can do it, so can you guys.”

Killer - *struggling* “L-Let’s make sure that Nightmare never sees the internet again!”

Nightmare laughed and continued. Dream couldn’t believe his eyes; he had never seen that kind of smile on his brother’s face.

Blue - “Well, at least they’re not destroying the AU.”

Ink - “We should still keep an eye on them.”

Horror and Killer ended up losing. However, the truth is that, once Horror saw Killer fall, he decided to fall down too.

Killer - *still lying down* “Honestly, I knew this would happen, but I also thought Dust would lose too.”

Dust - *offended* “Hey!”

Nightmare - “Well, that’s it! Now, Horror will have to do whatever Dust says, and Killer will have to do whatever Cross says.”

Killer - “Thank goodness.”

Cross - *smiling menacingly* “Maybe you shouldn’t be too happy.”

Killer - *shivering, a little scared* “W-what?”

Cross laughed, making Killer relax as he elbowed him. Horror wasn’t worried; the worst thing Dust could do to him was make him his sleeping cuddle buddy, but it wasn’t that he hated it—he just knew that Dust could sleep a whole week, and that was the problem.

Blue tried not to laugh; they all had fun watching Nightmare tease his gang members.

Dream - *happy* “Well, I guess that’s it. Let’s go.”

Ink and Blue nodded, both smiling. Dream opened a portal, and they all entered. Nightmare quickly turned around but saw nothing.

Killer - “Night, what’s wrong?”

Nightmare - “I felt Dream’s aura.”

Killer - “Maybe it’s just your imagination. Well, it doesn’t matter; we’re not doing anything, so they shouldn’t have a reason to fight us.”

Nightmare - “You’re right. Let’s all go back now.”

Cross - “Let’s never allow Night to choose an activity ever again.”

Horror, Dust, & Killer: “Agreed.”

Nightmare - “Heh, my activities aren't that bad.”

After they returned home, Horror spent the whole day being Dust's cuddle buddy, while Killer spent his time watching anime and other TV shows with Cross, who had become interested after seeing Killer watch anime once. Meanwhile, Nightmare enjoyed a peaceful and quiet time at the library, free from any distractions.

[k-howlett]

Prey | Jason Todd X gn!reader [PLATONIC]

TW: Character Death (Jason Todd), Mentions of hospital Equipment, Smoking & Drinking, light catholic mockery

Rating: Teen+, Implied Violence, Mild Descriptions of Gore, Smoking & Alcohol Use, Gender Nonspecific, Angst (With A Happy Ending)

A/N:

A songfic to hopefully get you guys excited for my(@/k-howlett) September Playlist Challenge (Which will be a 30 day writing activity (Songfics) that you’re all welcome to participate in! I will drop the list of songs and characters (specific to my account) sometime this month!)

Thank you for the continued love on my series (Breaking and Entering), I am very much in a DC mood as a convention is coming up soon, though I have a residual rush of Deadpool and Wolverine overload so expect lots of superhero fanfics in the coming weeks!!

as always,

with love and healing

-Lark(ly)

♬⋆.˚

prey - the neighbourhood

⇄ ◁◁ I I ▷▷ ↻

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.

As long as,

you notice,

I’m hoping,

That you’ll keep your heart open

(keep your heart open)

I’ll keep mine open too

(I’ll keep mine open too)

♬⋆.˚

“They say some secret society runs the upper echelons of Gotham, y’know?” Y/N chimes in from where they lay on the roof of a beat-up Cadillac shell. The windows are busted out, and the paint is worn thin by Gotham’s relentless weather.

Jason tilts his head back, his expression a mix of amusement and skepticism. “Like the Illuminati? You gettin’ into conspiracies again, Y/NN?” His lanky frame is propped up against the car’s torn-off panel, his eyes flicking from the dark sky to Y/N’s silhouette, illuminated by the cold moonlight.

They were waiting for the fireworks to start, a rare spectacle that both of them, despite their tough exteriors, had always looked forward to.

“No, not the Illuminati. It’s much worse,” they insist, leaning over the roof to peer down at him, their face earnest, almost grave. The two of them, alley kids by definition, had always found solace in each other at the Gotham City scrap-yard. It was near the docks and dodgy as hell, but neither seemed to mind. They knew how to be careful—the needles that littered the ground were easy to avoid if you paid attention, and the dilapidated buildings surrounding the chain-link fences were just part of the landscape, nothing more.

Jason’s grin widens, that trademark smirk of his playing at the corners of his mouth. “Uh-huh. And I suppose you think the moon landing was fake too?”

“Oh, c’mon! Is it really that hard to believe? Think about it. The rich get rich, and the poor get poorer. Ain’t that what the saying is? Someone’s gotta be corrupt at the top, pullin’ the strings. How do you think Joker breaks out all the time? Or how GCPD’s incompetence hasn’t been talked about outside this city? Hm? And they say it’s hard to leave, too! Once you’re here, you’re stuck, ’cause they don’t want people like us to be free. To be like them,” they argue, their city accent thick with conviction, as if they’ve spent hours turning this theory over in their mind.

Jason chuckles, a low, throaty sound that vibrates through the night air. “You’ve been spending too much time listening to the old timers down at the docks. Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me the Bat’s in on it too.”

Y/N rolls their eyes, exasperated but not defeated. “Ah, whateva. One day you’ll see. Just how fucked this place truly is.” They cross their arms behind their head and lie back down as the first burst of fireworks lights up the sky.

For a moment, the world is silent, save for the crackle of fireworks high above. New Year’s Eve in Gotham was a strange paradox—celebratory and bleak all at once. The fireworks painted the night in bright colors, but the streets below remained as grim as ever. Jason glances over at Y/N, their face softening in the glow of the display. He couldn’t help but admire their fire, their passion for things he often brushed off with a laugh.

There was a time when Jason himself had that kind of fire, the belief that something better was possible, even in a place like Gotham. But as they lay there together, watching the fireworks, a small part of him wondered if Y/N was right. Maybe Gotham was more than just a city—it was a trap, a cage, and no matter how hard you fought, you were bound to lose.

But for now, he lets the thought slip away, pushing it down with all the other doubts and fears that plagued him. Tonight was about the fireworks, about the rare moments of peace they found in this chaotic city. He wouldn’t let anything ruin that.

As the final burst of light faded from the sky, Y/N nudged Jason’s shoulder. “Next year’s gonna be better. You’ll see.”

Jason looked at them, his smirk softer now, almost wistful. “Yeah… we’ll see.”

♬⋆.˚

If you don’t ask,

I won’t tell

Just know that,

Just know that

It all hurts,

it all hurts just the same

♬⋆.˚

Y/N sits at the base of the headstone, laughter spilling out in bitter, uneven bursts. The years had worn them down, every laugh wracking their frame with a painful shake.

“You know, it’s comical, really,” they mutter, voice dripping with venom. “You ditch me, go play house with your new family, and now look where you’ve wound up.” They take a deep drag from the cigarette, the smoke curling from their cracked lips into a wry smile. “Look what they fuckin’ did to you,” they say, exhaling slowly. “What a cruel joke.”

Jason’s eyes narrow, his stance tense as he watches them. He expected something—anger, maybe even tears—but this? It cuts deeper than he’d anticipated. “Hey, cut that shit out,” he snaps, his tone edged with irritation. “Not here.”

“What, smoking outside?” Y/N laughs, the sound quickly turning into a hacking cough.

Jason steps closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. “It’s disrespectful, Y/N. Knock it off.”

They grind the cigarette into the concrete, but not before taking one last drag. “You don’t mind, do ya, pal?” they sneer. “I mean, it’s not like you’re even really six feet under.”

Jason’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. He crouches down beside them, his voice cold but tinged with something darker—pain, maybe, or regret. “Yeah, I do mind. This place is for people to rest, not for you to play out your bullshit. You used to hate smoking—your old man would blow that crap in your face, and you’d go ballistic. Where’s that Y/N, huh?”

“Don’t tell me how to process my emotions, Todd,” they spit, their voice raw with anger. “What’s it matter now, huh? Why show up after all this time? You’ve been prowling around the streets of Gotham for what, a year? And now you want to make a grand entrance? What’s your angle? You gonna pretend you’re not the same lowlife Mafia bosses we used to mock?”Their eyes bore into him, full of accusation and pain.

Jason’s jaw tightens, his eyes cold and hard. He takes a step forward, his voice a gravelly snarl. “You think I wanted this? To become the monster we used to laugh about? Gotham doesn’t give a damn about redemption. It chews you up and spits you out. I had to adapt, or die trying.”

He leans in, his gaze intense. “You’re pissed off? Good. You’ve got every right to be. But don’t act like you know a damn thing about what I’ve been through. You think you’re the only one who’s lost?”

Jason steps back, his voice unwavering and edged with steel. “Go ahead, hate me. But don’t act like you don’t understand. Gotham changes everyone. Even you.”

Y/N’s eyes flash with defiance. “I changed because I lost you, so don’t get it twisted. Gotham’s not the reason you’re like this. You’re on some vendetta trip. I’ve seen the headlines—throwing the Bat into a brick wall in front of the little bird? Talk about a temper. I thought I had a short fuse.”

They let out a bitter chuckle, the amusement in their voice sharp. “Guess I underestimated you. Always thought you had more control. But now? You’re just another angry soul tearing through Gotham like it’s personal. Maybe it is.”

Jason’s gaze hardens, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “You think you know what this is? You think you’ve got me all figured out? You don’t have a clue what I’ve been through or why I do what I do.”

Y/N’s smile fades, replaced by a look of steely resolve. “Maybe not. But don’t kid yourself into thinking you’re the only one who’s suffered. We all deal with our pain in different ways. You’re just louder about it.”

Jason turns away slightly, the tension palpable. “Maybe so. But at least I’m fighting to make a difference. Even if it means getting my hands dirty.”

♬⋆.˚

something is wrong,

I can’t explain

Everything changed when the birds came,

You’ll never know,

What they might do,

If they catch you too early

♬⋆.˚

“So, what was it like then?” Y/N asks softly, holding a beer bottle, their legs dangling off the edge of the rooftop.

Jason exhales sharply, his gaze fixed on the city below. “Shitty,” he responds with blunt honesty.

Y/N nods, their voice carrying a dry tone. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Jason’s expression turns somber, his voice carrying the weight of his regret. “For the record, I would’ve come sooner. If I’d known… if I hadn’t been so damn ashamed, I would’ve found you first.”

Y/N looks away, a hard edge to their voice. “But you didn’t.”

Jason’s shoulders slump slightly, a resigned acceptance in his tone. “No, I didn’t.”

A moment of silence stretches between them, heavy with unspoken words. The city lights below seem to fade into the background, irrelevant compared to their shared pain.

♬⋆.˚

we need to fly ourselves,

before someone else,

tells us how

something is off,

I feel like prey,

I feel like praying

♬⋆.˚

“You keep a rosary in your car? Since when?” Jason’s disbelief is evident as he looks at the symbol.

Y/N’s voice drops to a softer, almost defensive tone. “Since your funeral service,” they reply, the memory clearly still raw.

Jason’s eyes widen in surprise. “Seriously? You’re not messing with me?”

Y/N shrugs, their expression a mix of resignation and irritation. “Yeah, seriously. The church preys on people when they’re down… and I was down.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “So you turned to Catholicism?”

Y/N’s gaze is steady but weary. “God doesn’t come looking for you. You go looking for Him.”

Jason’s face shows a mixture of skepticism and cynicism. “Wow, they really did a number on you. You’re all in, huh?”

Y/N’s patience wears thin. “Can we just drop it? I don’t want to get into this with you.”

Jason’s tone turns more challenging. “Oh, come on. You really think if there was a God, He’d let this city of sinners last?”

Y/N’s eyes meet his, a flicker of wry humor in their gaze. “Maybe He’s trying to flood it. That’s why it rains all the time.” They lock eyes, the serious moment breaking into shared laughter. The tension easing ever so slightly.

♬⋆.˚

so, so I’ll probably,

take you aside

And tell you whats on my mind,

But you, you’ll just keep it inside,

probably tell me that you’re alright

♬⋆.˚

“What the hell happened to you!?” Y/N’s voice is filled with shock and concern as they watch Jason stumble through the door, bloodied and barely conscious.

Jason collapses against the wall, gasping for breath. “You remember when we were kids?” he rasps, wincing in pain.

“Yeah, I remember,” Y/N replies tersely, their hands already working to remove his torn and blood-soaked clothes. “I lived through it.”

Jason coughs, cringing as Y/N begins to clean the gash on his side. “Remember how you used to say Gotham was run by some secret cabal?”

“I didn’t say that” Y/N corrects sharply, applying pressure to the wound. “I said the upper echelons were corrupt.”

Jason grimaces, his face contorted with pain. “Well, you were right.”

Y/N’s hands still for a moment, their eyes meeting his with a mix of disbelief and concern. “Yeah?”

Jason nods weakly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah…”

Y/N’s expression shifts from anger to a deep sadness, their gaze lingering on Jason’s battered form. They finish tending to his wounds with a gentler touch, their emotions raw and conflicted. The weight of his admission hangs heavy in the air, the reality of Gotham’s corruption and its toll on Jason becoming painfully clear.

“And?” Y/N prompts, their tone a mix of frustration and curiosity as they continue tending to Jason’s injuries.

Jason winces, his voice strained. “And that’s all.”

Y/N’s eyebrows raise in disbelief. “You givin’ me my ‘I told you so’ moment?”

Jason nods weakly, a small, pained smile playing at his lips. “Mmhm.”

Y/N’s expression shifts to a wry grin, a hint of triumph in their voice despite the grim circumstances. “Ha! Well, I guess that makes me right then. I told you so!”

Jason lets out a strained chuckle, his eyes showing a flicker of reluctant admiration. “Yeah, yeah. You were right. Just… don’t let it go to your head.”

♬⋆.˚

if I run,

If I run away, I’ll never know

What you want

And if you go then I’ll never grow,

I’m undone,

let me slip,

let me slide

♬⋆.˚

“You’re teaming up with the Bat to track down John Wycliffe—who’s at the heart of Gotham’s corruption and causing problems in neighbouring cities—and subsequently the entire court of owls—and you don’t even know if you’re coming back?” Y/N exclaims, their hands gesturing in frustration. “Why? I just got you back—”

“I have to, Y/N,” Jason replies, his tone firm but strained.

“You don’t have to,” Y/N argues, their voice filled with desperation. “You don’t owe Gotham anything. This place is falling apart—it can burn for all I care. We could leave, get out of here. Just come with me. Please.”

Jason’s expression is resolute. “I can’t. This is bigger than me. I have to see it through.”

Y/N’s voice cracks as they struggle to keep their composure. “Don’t do this. Not again. I can’t handle losing you a second time.”

Jason looks at Y/N with a mix of sorrow and determination. “I need to do this. It’s not just about Gotham—it’s about making sure things don’t get worse.” Jason gives a final glance over his shoulder, a grim acknowledgment of their concern, before disappearing into the night.

♬⋆.˚

Something is off, I can’t explain

You know what I mean,

don’t you?

Something I saw,

Or something I did,

It made me like this,

could you help me?

♬⋆.˚

“Bruce,” Y/N says with a formal, measured tone.

“Y/N,” Bruce acknowledges with a slight tilt of his head, his demeanor guarded.

“Are you still banning me from seeing him?” Y/N’s question is direct, their voice carrying a note of frustration barely masked by formality.

Bruce’s gaze remains steady. “Are you going to be calm this time? He needs rest, not another argument.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, their expression composed but tense. “I’m completely calm.”

Bruce studies them for a moment, assessing their sincerity. “Good. He’s in there. You can see him now.”

Bruce steps aside, allowing Y/N to enter the room. The tension between them lingers as Y/N walks past, their shoulders tense with a mix of worry and determination.

“I don’t want to fight,” Y/N says softly as they enter, hands raised in a gesture of peace.

Jason, looking exhausted with an IV drip attached, raises his hands in a similar gesture. “Yeah, I don’t want to fight.”

Y/N gestures to where Bruce had previously been “I heard you took a bullet for him. Quite the change from when you were on the news trying to kill him.”

Jason winces, but his expression remains guarded. “Yeah, well… it wasn’t on purpose.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Not from what I’ve heard. Seems like you’ve grown a soft spot for your messed-up hero family.” Y/N glances at him and the card on the table from Dick—His older adoptive brother.

Jason manages a tired smile. “Maybe just a bit.”

Y/N picks up the card and looks it over. “That makes you part of the team too, you know.”

“A hero? Not quite,” Jason says, shaking his head.

“More like an anti-hero,” Y/N replies with a smirk. “But definitely not a lowlife mafia boss or a villain.”

Jason chuckles, a weary but genuine smile on his face. “Yeah, guess you’re right.”

“Get some sleep,” Y/N says, adjusting the blinds to block out the sunlight. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Though, with your track record, who knows if you’ll be here after you do.”

Jason groans. “Can you cut it out? I nearly died, Y/N.”

“You did die,” Y/N says gently. “But you’re here now.”

They share a brief laugh. Jason pulls a pillow over his head to shield himself from the light as Y/N makes the room more comfortable, tugging on the blinds to hide the rare Gotham sunshine.

“I’m glad you made it out this time, Jay.”

♬⋆.˚

I don’t want to fight,

I don’t want to fight,

I don’t want to fight

♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚

Approx. Word Count: 2,806

J.T. One-Shot (Songfic)

♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚

Status Page: Here

Prompt/Character Requests: Open

[italicized-oh]

hello hello and welcome back from academia hell!! tis lovely to see you, and I hope you're having the most wonderful of days/weeks <3 for prompts purposes, if you're interested: jace and porter attempting to do research on gods/ascension/divine rituals for the sake of The Plan? (how well this actually ends up going is of course a matter of debate)

you’ve activated my secret codes dear. Get ready for Research and Rituals, baby. They’re looking into the orphic cosmogony bc i have Issues. um. nsft and also light gore? but v v tame compared to our usual fare in this tag lmao

Jace feels Porter come up behind him and slumps backward against the wall of warmth. He knows the moan he lets out when Porter digs his thumbs into Jace’s shoulders is pornographic, and he doesn’t even care. He drops his head back against Porter’s stomach to look up at him.

“Did you know that Protogonos hatched from an egg, according to some Orphic hymns?” Porter hums, listening. “And then created all the other gods in that pantheon? Oh, yes, perfect, right there– and that some people believed there was a son of Persephone, who was raped by Zeus disguised as Hades, called Zagreus, who was torn limb from limb because Zeus– fuck, your hands, Porter– because Zeus was tricked, but Zagreus’ heart is saved and then implanted in Zeus’ thigh, and Dionysos is born from that? Fuck–” Jace cuts off with a high-pitched moan.

Porter keeps massaging, hums again, and leans down to kiss Jace on the forehead before whispering in his ear. “Sweetheart, if you’re asking to ride my thigh, you know the answer’s yes.”

Jace flails a hand backward to slap ineffectively at Porter. “No, you animal, I’m just saying, there’s about a million different ways people think people become gods, all of which are impractical. I’m getting nowhere– oh, fuck me–”

Porter bites the shell of Jace’s left ear. “Again, the answer is yes, starshine, but you can beg if you wanna.” 

Jace is torn between pulling away to make his point and collapsing further back into Porter, who’s now biting at Jace’s neck. “Stop– stop that, I’m working, or do you not– ohh, gods– do you not want to know how to actually become a god?”

Porter bites harder, worrying at the skin under Jace’s jaw. “Hmm, don’t tempt me, sweetheart. Can’t have you working without inspiration, after all. Seems to me anyways that the point is more that the story sounds good than that it makes sense.” Jace goes rigid under him, shooting straight up into Porter’s chin. “Ow, fucking hell, Stardiamond, can’t a man leave a hickey in peace around here?”

Jace slaps Porter’s shoulder. “Oh, hush, you ginormous baby. For once in your thick-headed life, I think you might be onto something.”

Porter wiggles his eyebrows. “Oh, I’ll be onto something, all right. One more smart remark and you’ll find out just how onto something I can be.”

Jace snorts despite himself, failing to disguise a laugh. “Fine, fine, keep gnawing on me, what do I care. I’ve got a hymn to write, I guess. Fuck, I hate wizards. Why do they always have to reinvent the wheel? Blood sacrifices and orgies would’ve been so much fucking simpler– oh, gods, Porter, fuck me, holy fuck–”

“Sounds like you’re a natural at the hymn thing, sweetheart. Let’s see how much more work we can get done, hm?”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Cooking by the Book

Part 1 (ft. Riddle and Silver) I Part 2 (ft. Trey and Kalim) I Part 3 (ft. Jade and Lilia) I Part 4 (ft. Deuce and Jamil) I Part 5 (ft. Ruggie and Malleus) I Part 6 (ft. Cater and Rook)

In which Gordon Ramsay-kun is isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. Part Food Wars, part Hell’s Kitchen, all Master Chef—Night Raven College isn’t ready to take on this Michelin Star celebrity!!

You’ve got to do the cooking by the book! ... But with Floyd and Sebek, that’s an impossible task. Between noodle sourcing squabbles and differences in their approach, how can GR ever rein these two loose cannons in?

dbjsbskdne I was so excited to write this because I love both Sebek and Floyd 😌 They make for a fun dynamic, especially when mixed in with GR~

I was busy around the initial release of this event months ago, so I’m releasing this SUPER late (but it all ends up working out, since a character cameoing in this fic is one of the new Master Chef units for May 2023). I’ll get the Idia and Ace with GR one out in a week or two 😭 Please bear with me!!

Imagine this…

If teaching the Master Chef course at NRC had taught Gordon Ramsay one thing, it was this: the kitchen was an active battle zone, and weapons of mass destruction laid in wait around every corner. It was all open flames and pointed tools... but the most dangerous thing of all to his health and his sanity?

The students.

He had dealt with his fair share of arrogant, ill-tempered chefs. Professionals who thought themselves too good to take advice, newbies who believed they were better than they actually were.

The NRC boys were a whole new ordeal altogether, Gordon realized.

“IEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”

A bloodcurdling shriek resounded in Ignihyde’s halls. It bounced off the cold polished floors and the metal beams and wires that stitched everything together.

At once, Gordon snapped to attention, pushing himself away from the wall and rushing to the scream’s source. The door snagged, refusing to open--he cursed loudly, slamming his palms against it and roaring, “WHAT’S GOIN’ ON IN THERE?!”

Behind the door, the wailing escalated. There was crashing, screeching, sobbing, begging. His worries ramped up, his pounding, harder and more frantic.

“I THOUGHT I COULD LEAVE YOU TWO UNDERSUPERVISED FOR ONE BLOODY SECOND!!”

Gordon’s palms were raw now, crying out in protest--and, for a wild moment, he considered ramming his entire body against the door. Just as he was preparing to throw himself at it—

Click.

Like magic, the door suddenly swung open. Sebek’s proud face appeared, wearing a smug, triumphant expression. Not good, Gordon thought.

“Rejoice, human!!, Sebek thundered happily. “The merman and I have successfully liberated Ignihyde of its excess of flash fried noodles!! We shall have plenty to use for our cooking lessons!!”

“You did WHAT?!”

“Hmph! Witness our bountiful spoils for yourself!!”

Gordon lifted his head and stared past Sebek.

In the back of the room, Floyd was squatting by Idia’s closet, packet of instant ramen in hand. Boxes and boxes of noodles—rummaged from the deepest recesses of Idia’s mancave—laid in haphazard stacks beside him, teetering precariously atop one another.

Ignihyde’s dorm leader sprawled on the floor, humbly prostrating himself between tears.

“Oi, Firefly Squid-senpai,” Floyd said lazily, using the butt of his frying pan to poke Idia on the head. “This all you got? You’d better tell the truth or else Crocodile-chan and I will squeeze you senseless~”

“Y-Yes, yes, that’s everything!!” Idia squeaked as he cowered in terror. “Y-You’ve already cleaned me out of house and home...!! J-Just take the noodles and leave this nerd alone!!”

“Hmmm...” Floyd laid his frying pan on his shoulder and contemplated. “’Kay! I don’t feel like haulin’ more stuff back to the kitchen anyway.”

“The FUCK is happening here?!”

All eyes landed on Gordon as he stormed in looking none too pleased. Veins bulged on his forehead, and his entire face creased with rage.

A mistake made on his part; he should have known—the students of Night Raven College were the most dangerous aspect in all of cooking.

It had been a sly suggestion from Floyd that started this whole mess. “I heard from a little octopus that Ignihyde’s loaded with noodles. We should go there to pick some up.”

And so Sebek and Floyd had been allowed to go off to collect the ingredients. When they didn’t return in a timely manner, Gordon’s suspicions had set in and he went to Ignihyde himself to investigate—only to stumble upon that shocking scene.

He left fuming, dragging his problem children of the day with him (Floyd) flailing and (Sebek) protesting.

“I said you could get ingredients, I didn’t say you should rob the man blind!!” Gordon grunted, shoving them both through the kitchen doors. “Right, we’ll make noodles by scratch then. Hope you boys remember what you’ve been taught.”

“What? But I don’t feel like it.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you pissed on my mood. To your stations,” their instructor barked, “now!!”

“Maaan... This sucks.”

They reluctantly slunk off, fetching flour, salt, and eggs along the way. Just as Sebek popped open a jar of white granules, Gordon shouted, “Make sure it’s not sugar this time, Zigvolt!!”

Sebek’s cheeks flamed. He shot a fierce glare back, bellowing, “I KNOW THAT!! I don’t need to be told twice! I’ve been expanded my culinary repertoire considerably since the start of this semester!!”

Floyd’s eyes shifted to Sebek’s station. A nasty plot bubbled to the surface of his mind, encouraged by the volatility of his junior’s attitude.

“Ehhh, you sure got guts snapping back to the teach, freshie,” Floyd grinned crookedly as he leaned forward at his counter. “How about you talk big when you can actually own up to it? At least I can cook without a recipe. You’ve been making little mistakes even with a recipe.”

“WHAT!! The only reason we’re even IN this predicament is due to YOUR lapse in judgment!! You INSISTED it would be more cost effective and time efficient to procure noodles in bulk from Ignihyde!”

“You’re the one that went along with me. If you were really smart, you’d have stopped us.”

“Grk…!!”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough out of the both of you!!” Gordon interrupted. “Focus on your pastas instead of stirring the pot here.”

“Tch!! I’ll show him!!” Sebek gruffly tore into a bag of flour at his table. A cloud of fine white powder filled the air, sending him into a coughing fit.

Floyd snickered—he had already shifted his own flour and salt together, forming a well in which he had cracked an egg.

Gordon raised a brow. “… Well? Get on with it then.”

The merman’s lackadaisical smile turned sharp-toothed at the suggestion. “If you say so.”

Without hesitation, Floyd stuck his entire hand into his mound of ingredients, fingers clenching around egg and flower. The yolk burst, viscous yellow coating his hand and flour flying in all directions. A stray speck flew across the aisle and hit Sebek’s forehead.

A low grow came from his throat.

Gordon scowled at Floyd. “That’s not an acceptable mixing technique.”

“That’s right!” Sebek called haughtily. “You should know better!! You’re meant to break the yolk with a fork, then steadily incorporate it into the...”

A fistful of flour suddenly exploded across Sebek’s vision. He jerked back, now boasting a flour-covered face, appalled and mouth hanging agape.

Across the way, Floyd unabashedly smirked. He waggled his yolky fingers at his classmate, incriminating himself. “Oops, my hand slipped.”

“YOU VILE KNAVE!! THIS INJUSTICE WILL NOT GO UNPUNISHED!!” Sebek shoved a hand into his own bag of flour for a counterattack. He raised his arm, and Floyd cackled, knowing his target had taken the bait.

Gordon instantly clued in on his intentions.

This was it: Floyd’s escape from the order to make noodles, to do something more fun.

“TIME OUT!!” The chef abruptly stepped between his students, forming a physical barrier between the two--but alas, too late.

The declaration of war had been made.

There was a battle cry, and then flour flying at him. Gordon fell back, grasping at his face. The world blurred into a white mess, filled with the clanging of pots and pans and erratic shouting. 

“Where are you?!” Sebek demanded between coughs (most likely preparing another projectile). “COME AND FACE ME, YOU FISHY COWARD!!”

Shuffling came from within the flour haze, metal and wooden implements rolled or tossed to the floor to attract Sebek’s attention. Wherever Floyd was in the kitchen, he was a master at avoiding detection.

All the while, Gordon swatted at the air and bellowed, “Stand down, get back to work. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME, YOU FUCKING DONKEYS?!”

The startled cries of the cafeteria ghost chefs started filtering in.

“G-Goodness, what’s happened here?!”

Gordon lurched out of the kitchen, clinging to the doorframe to keep himself upright. He spat up a breath, then dragged a hand over his face to wipe it clean of flour. The man looked simultaneously infuriated and exhausted, the lines on his face seemingly more prominent than they had been before.

“Mr. Ramsay!! Are you alright?! What’s become of the kitchen and the students?!” one of the ghost chefs asked worriedly.

“The students,” Gordon said wearily. “That’s what happened.”

[iruinn]

baby, you're the sweetest thing ❀ nanami kento

chapter 1

cw : none that apply

wc : 2603

masterpost

Your friend’s sweater wrinkles in your hand as you hang onto it in desperation, holding him in place as he obstinately tries to walk away from you, unwilling to bend to your will.

“Gojo, please! it's not that ridiculous a request! It’s only for a week!”

“A week of pretending to be, what, your boyfriend? I have been dating a man for so long its going to be a struggle to pretend to be attracted to a woman, love.”

You groan, letting go of the back of his sweater and run around him, stopping him in his path and mustering up the most pleading expression you can manage.

“I’m not asking for straight on PDA, just…”

He watches as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt, clearly panicked. Guilt rushes through him and he sighs, steering you to the couch and putting his arm around you, ruffling up your hair.. It’s not that he was fully against pretending to be your date at your sister’s wedding, especially since he knew that you would definitely have a hard time with it. But the timing was terrible. Not to mention that you and him were definitely more like siblings than anything else, and he wasn’t sure how good of a charade he could put up.

“You know I don’t want to actually leave you alone there among the wolves, right? I’m surprised you’re actually even going in the first place…”

You frown, thinking. “I absolutely don’t want to go, but that’s still my younger sister, you know. Even though she’s marrying him…I know we’ve never really gotten along-” At this, he snorts, and you hit his chest, knowing that he was thinking something rude, and you continue “It’d look pretty bad if I don’t show up. It’s going to be hell but I promised my dad too.”

“I’d tell you to stop caring about your family because they haven’t really treated you like they should, but I know you won’t listen to me, will you?” He sighs when you shake your head, shrugging.

“Your sister picked the worst time to get married. She had to do it the week of my kids’ finals?”

“I’m pretty sure she’s been planning this for months, Satoru. They got engaged quite a while ago. It’s going to be disgustingly lavish.”

He scrunches his nose and you giggle, your laughter fading when you realize that this puts you back at square one with no date.

“Maybe I can fall down a flight of stairs before the wedding. They’re not going to expect me to show up with a broken leg, right?”

“You’re not going to break a limb for your stupid sister’s wedding, (name). I’ll come up with something, don’t worry.”

Silence permeates your small living room again as you both sit there, bouncing off ideas and names off each other.

“Maybe I can tell them I’m a lesbian now. I’m already halfway there, and it’s believable enough that my last relationship ruined me for men.” “That still doesn’t solve the problem of you not having a date.”

“What about taking someone else? I’m sure Shoko-” “Have you MET Shoko? There’s no way she’s agreeing to spend 2 days among annoying rich people with me and you know it!”

“Maybe Geto?” “I love you but I’m not willing to let my boyfriend pretend to be your lover for a whole week. Try again.” “Possessive brat. It was worth a shot…”

“Wait, I got it. I’ll just hire someone off the streets, it’ll be just like that movie with Julia Roberts!” “Pretty Woman, you uncultured raccoon. And are you actively trying to get murdered now? I’m not letting you pick up a possible creep!”

You throw your hands up in annoyance, at your wits end. “Fine then! Maybe I should just go alone and be pathetic and alone while my sister gets married and starts the life that should have been mine, right?” To your horror, you feel yourself getting choked up and you gulp, willing it away. You’ve cried out all those tears a while ago and you didn’t want to start again, knowing deep down that it was for the better anyway.

Gojo wraps his arms around you, in an attempt to get you to calm down and you bury your head in his shoulder, angry at the world and at yourself for just not putting your foot down and saying no for once.

“Hey, hey it’s gonna be fine, okay! I’ll talk to Shoko and we’ll figure something out, you know we always do. If worse comes to worse I’ll try to rope in Geto to accompany you…But we’re getting you to this wedding looking fabulous with a hot man or woman on your arm, okay?”

You sniff, wiping your nose on his shirt. “You sure you don’t want to show up as my hot sugar baby? We’d be a very attractive fake couple.”

“It’s cute that you think you’d be able to afford me. But no, I don’t think that would work out. If only there was someone else…”

He stills suddenly, and you look up at him questioningly.

“That might work, actually…”

“What? What is it?”

He grabs the wedding invitation thrown onto the table, scribbling down the RSVP and putting a check next to the bold “+1” box. He shoves the invitation onto your chest, and you grab onto it, bewildered.

“I need to go talk to Shoko! Right now!”

He stands up and grabs your shoulder, excited. “You’re going to this wedding with a date, (name). Mark my fucking words.” Not waiting for a reply, he strides out, waving over his shoulder as you stare at his back, glancing back down at the piece of paper in your hands, the words almost mocking you.

‘You are cordially invited to the joyous union of Seiko Morita and…’

The atmosphere in the cafe is cosy and cheerful, quiet whispers of conversation ringing out around you as you sip on a coffee, waiting. Your fake boyfriend is late, you grumble, and you consider texting Gojo to ask where he was. You’re a bit suspicious about the entire situation, as Gojo had almost too gleefully told you that he found someone to pretend to be your boyfriend for the wedding, and that it was one of his friends. He didn’t give you any more information, much to your annoyance, and just asked you to go to your regular cafe at a specified time and that you’d meet the mystery man there. You hope that it isn’t some weird prank he decided to play on you. (Even though you knew that this wasn’t really a humorous situation as far as you were concerned, and Gojo definitely knew that, you still wouldn’t put it past him.)

You stretch in your seat, warming your fingers on your cup as you wait, your eyes roving over the people in the cafe. 10 more minutes pass, and you’re about to pull out your phone to call Gojo when the door to the cafe opens with a slam, a tall man in a suit in almost walking into a person leaving the cafe. You watch the other person grumble in annoyance and giggle as they move away, bringing him into view. Your breath leaves your lungs as you instantly recognize him, and shrink down in your seat, hoping he doesn’t notice you.

Just your luck for Nanami Kento of all people to walk into the cafe right as when you’re meeting your fake date!

Wait a second.

“He wouldn’t. He fucking wouldn’t.” You hiss to yourself as Nanami looks around the place, clearly searching for someone and his eyes fall on you. He brightens up visibly, and walks towards you with clear purpose. You steel yourself, willing your heart to stay strong as you wave at him.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe it really was just a coincidence and he just happened to frequent this cafe and he recognised you from 4 months ago. I mean, there was absolutely no way Shoko and Gojo thought Kento would agree to be your fake date, right?

You knew you weren’t going to be that lucky when he sits down opposite you.

“Ms. Morita, right?”

Groaning, your head falls onto the table. “You’re my fake date to the wedding from hell?” You were going to kill Gojo.

You hear him chuckle. “How are you, (name)? It’s been a few months since we last met, that night.”

You tilt your head up, your cheek still pressed against the table. He looks amused at your position and you feel your cheeks warming at the memory of your first and only meeting until this very day.

“It has been…” You sit up straight again, fiddling with your hair. “Gojo let you know about my situation?”

He nods. “He did. I’ll admit, I was wary at the prospect of going along with any half baked plans of his but when he said it was you that needed it..” He clears his throat. His cheeks are mildly red. “I needed a vacation anyway from work.”

“And you picked a wedding full of strangers accompanying a person you barely know for it? I’m pretty sure you can get a better vacation easily, Kento.”

The light from the cafe window glints across his glasses, and he leans closer to you. “Let’s just say I owe Gojo a favor for something and this is me paying him back.” You shuffle closer to the table, staring into his eyes. “Unless you don’t want me to accompany you, of course.”

You startle, breaking out of your fugue. “No! No, I’d be glad to have you along, I mean..look at you. Anyone would be happy to introduce you to their parents…”

Nanami smiles, clearly amused. “Anyone, huh.”

“Being objective here…” You pout. “You’re sure you want to do this? My family can get…overwhelming. Unpleasant sometimes. And the situation is really less than ideal…”

He reaches out across the table and holds your hand, and you smile at him. You think he can tell its shaky, the way his thumbs rubs gently across your fingers. “I can handle it, (name). We can flesh out the details, and I’ll be the perfect fake boyfriend.”

You nod at him, gripping his hand back. The size of it encompasses yours, and as you watch him across the table, you gulp silently. You think the wedding week is going to be torturous for more reasons than one.

4 months ago….

Shoko lounges on your bed as you rummage through your closet, batting aside a dress you throw at her.

“Can you just pick out an outfit already?” She’s impatient, scrolling through her messages. “We’re late already, and you look good in almost everything!”

You whirl around, your hair wild. “I didn’t even know I had so many outfits! I need to spring clean my apartment someday..”

“If I know you well, which I do, you are never cleaning out that closet. I’m pretty sure you’d be able to find another world in it if you look closely enough in there.”

She gets up, reaching into your messy closet and pulling out a dress, a short black number, shoving it into your arms. “Your ass looks good in this one, so put it on and let’s get going already. We’ve been pregaming already and I want to be mildly coherent at least until we get there.”

Shoko ignores your grumbling, tapping her toes impatiently as you pull it on. You turn around, twisting your body to catch a glimpse of your ass as she grabs you by the shoulder, rushing you out of the room.

She was right. Your ass did look great in the dress.

The nightclub is crowded, and you and Shoko slip in between the people, making your way to the bar. You notice the white head of hair and you wave, Gojo waving back at you. His boyfriend’s arms are around him, and you notice a person you don’t recognize standing around the small table. You notice he’s handsome, wearing a shirt that stretched around his muscles, his hands gripping a glass that he raises at you. Your eyes linger on his body before snapping up to his face and you think he notices.

Gojo puts his arms around you, and Geto follows him in suit. “You’re finally here!” Gojo presses a drink into your hands, and is distracted by Shoko, while you turn to the new person.

“Nanami Kento.” He holds out a hand and you grip it, shaking it. “I’m one of Gojo’s acquaintances from high school.”

“Nanami! You’re so cruel to call me a mere acquaintance!” He leans over and you giggle at the vein in Nanami’s forehead. Gojo grips your shoulder, pushing you forward. “This is (name)! She’s the friend I told you about!”

You turn back to him, wiggling out of his grip. “What- what did you tell him about me? Gojo!” The man is already moving away, going to presumably get more drinks. You grumble, taking a sip of yours. It’s strong, and you wince lightly.

“Only good things, I promise. I’m sorry you have to put up with him.”

You watch as Shoko and Nanami greet each other, finding out they were all friends in high school.

“Haibara a no show?” Shoko yells over the noise, and Nanami nods. “He’s busy with work tonight, unfortunately. I almost didn’t come either, but Gojo was convincing.” He meets your eyes, holding your gaze and you giggle, shuffling closer to him. He has to bend down a bit, and you put your heads closer, like you’re sharing a secret. “He’s blackmailing you to be here, isn’t he.” You whisper, and he smiles at you.

“Maybe, but I’m starting to think it was worth it.”

You feel your stomach flutter, and take another sip of your drink to embolden yourself. He truly was extremely handsome, and you were kind of mad your friends hadn’t introduced you to him already.

The rest of the night is a blur, the both of you spending most of it talking and drinking. You…did not remember much of it later. What you DID remember was drinking way more than your body could handle, and hitting on Nanami. The night had ended, you recall, with you throwing up on the sidewalk while he held your hair back. He was a perfect gentleman the entire time, calling a cab for you and Shoko, and making you promise to drink plenty of water.

You did not listen, and you had woken up with a pounding headache the next day, shriveling in embarrassment.

“You’re sure you just don’t want me to give him your number so you can thank him in person?” Gojo had asked when you asked him to pass on your thanks to Nanami. You denied vehemently, sure that he thought you were a menace he had to take care of and probably ruined his evening by almost throwing up on his expensive shoes.

A part of you did want to get in contact with him again, maybe ask him out to coffee, but the bigger, louder, black hole of embarrassment in you had sucked those feelings deep in, and you silently resolved to him being that awkward acquaintance you’d probably wave at from the other side of a room in case you ever met again.

Until today, of course.

At least weathering your family and your sister’s wedding would be a lot easier with one of the most gorgeous men in existence by your side, right?

[themotherofhorses]

I loved your writing, and I had always thought you were a talented writer. Your handmaid series was one of my favorite Aemond series on this site. But I will not lie, I’m a bit disappointed at how easily you seem to abandon your work and followers. So many people have been anxiously awaiting the next part, which you constantly teased, only to receive a lousy “Sorry, I’m not in the right mindset” explanation for your sudden absence? Yikes. That feels like a slap in the face to your followers.

hi anon!

okay so i debated whether to answer this, and i mean i thought about it for HOURS. like pacing-in-the-kitchen + chewing on my nails + having a lil tummy ache.

yeah, maybe that “i’m not in the right mindset” explanation wasn’t the best, and at this point, i rlly don’t have anything left to lose so here is the raw and ugly truth:

(tw// mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts, and an eating disorder below.)

if you didn’t know, i was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa in the fall of 2020, along with depression and anxiety. i’ve been in recovery since then.

however, these past several weeks, i unfortunately relapsed back into my ed, and i began experiencing my heavy depression episodes. i’ve had a talk with my family, and i’ve been trying to regain my focus and strength, but its been so fucking difficult as hell.

that is why i haven’t been writing. it is so incredibly hard to find the motivation to write when you just wanna …. yknow …. die? or not exactly die but more curl up in a ball and cry your eyes out until there is nothing left inside you. fanfic writing became a strong and favorite coping mechanism of mine, and it has been so heartbreaking to feel that passion/motivation slowly die away. that is the main reason why i have decided to take a step back from writing and posting and being active on this blog.

i love my fanfics and i love all my readers. y’all have been an unexpected but greatly appreciated light in my life. y’all have genuinely given me a reason for living, as silly as that might sound.

so pls pls PLS (with a cherry on top) believe me when i say that i never mean to abandon y’all. i’m still here! i’m just trying to find myself again — and when i do, i’ll return to give y’all the best smutty fics i can whip up hehe.

to end things on a positive note, here is a picture of my sadie <33 she’s helping in keeping her momma afloat in these shitty waters.

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

HI HELLO EXCUSE ME I JUST SAW THE TAGS ON YOUR LAST POST ABOUT THE POTTERY SHARDS VERSE? HE GASLIGHTS CAPTAIN AMERICA?? AND YOU CUT IT OUT????? DO YOU CARE TO ELABORATE???? I love love loooove your pottery shards and acts of... verses sooo so so much btw absolute masterpieces. It is so hard to find anything about Jack Murdock but he is just so interesting please. Also pottery shards??? mwah i love it. I usually avoid mcu stuff bc peter is always stripped down to some spineless kid, but he is SO MUCH MORE. plus it's so funny like god

It wasn’t in pottery shards. Explanation below the cut.

The scene came from a fic I have planned and partially written but no idea if I’ll ever publish. The idea was that Bucky, post Winter Soldier, ends up recovering with the vigilante community of New York, which results in Peter Parker becoming ferally protective of him. This Peter is extremely productive, mildly insane, terrible at communication, and a total ride or die. Every adult in his life is terrified as to what he is doing at any given moment, because it could be anything, and Peter will not tell them until it has already happened. he just keeps doing things and he will not fucking tell them what those things are. 

as a side note, bucky in this AU adores peter to his dying breath, and he has never been more stressed out in his life. it’s like a tiny steve who has the power to fling himself off buildings and is even worse about sharing relevant information in a timely fashion--and steve let the army fucking experiment on him without letting his good ol’ pal bucky know that his last enlistment attempt worked. bucky has aged a thousand years since meeting peter. he would be stressed all day, every day, seven days a week, but he gets to time share his stress with frank castle, which alleviates some pressure. 

Bucky hadn’t reached out to Steve at this point—who was tearing apart the world looking for him—and Peter was a very firm believer in bucky’s right to heal on his own timeline. So, when Steve spots Bucky near one of their old haunts in Brooklyn, he’s elated, and Bucky is less than elated.

Peter, who was coming to meet bucky, takes exception to this fact.

He just sort of gets in Steve’s way in the street, acting like a random passer-by, and Steve, in his rush to get to bucky, grabs him by his bare forearms to move him out of the way when Peter keeps getting in his path. This is, of course, exactly what Peter wants, because he immediately activates his stickiness and Steve now physically cannot let go of this obvious child.

Peter immediately proceeds to give an Oscar winning performance of “terrified child in the process of being kidnapped, please, please, this isn’t my dad, someone save me.” He tries to fuck off immediately after, but he gets snagged by Sam and dragged into Avengers tower for questioning as to what the hell he just did, how the hell he just did it, and how is he involved with bucky.

Peter decides the only way out is through and that he just has to lean into the kidnapped child thing. He just. Immediately starts gaslighting the fuck out of everyone. He didn’t do anything, that’s insane, their theory is that he can, what—become sticky at will and somehow force captain America to drag him around by the arms? he’s fourteen and an honor student and he wants his aunt, oh god is he actually kidnapped by the avengers. He cries. It’s mildly humiliating.

It’s also extremely convincing, because like. He’s fourteen and an honor student. he’s crying. Why would this random child have any affiliation with the winter soldier? And what could he have done to make Steve grab him by the arms and drag him around—become sticky at will? That’s insane.

So he convinces everyone that Steve saw someone who was just a bucky lookalike on the street, snapped, had a nervous breakdown, lost control of his own strength, and almost kidnapped a fucking child. Including Steve. Steve also thinks he had a breakdown and almost accidentally kidnapped a child. But, good news, Peter really really doesn’t want to be on Ellen as the kid who almost got Datelined by Captain America, so he’d love to just go home and never talk about this ever, please and thank you. they really lucked out of a lawsuit, if you think about it. So he manages to gaslight them into letting peter go with their profuse apologies, and they’re actively making plans to ship Steve off to a wellness retreat on one of Tony’s tropical estates, because obviously the stress of hydra and looking for bucky has just been too much for him. He snapped and almost caused the most difficult to explain PR scandal ever. 

This, of course, all fails, because Peter accidentally unlocks his phone with Face ID while they’re giving him back his stuff, and a photo of him with Bucky is his home screen. He is very high intelligence, very low wisdom.

“Huh,” says Peter, into the damning silence. “I almost gaslit my way out of that like a girlboss.”

And then he immediately shoved his phone down his pants and announced that he would personally make sure that anyone who went after it would never be allowed in a school zone again. It devolves from there.

I loved it. It was so funny. It was peak chaos. Peter will never apologize for his actions. Foggy tries to get him to, and Peter says “I’m not sorry and I would do it again” and Foggy has to be like “HAHAH kids say the darnedest things please don’t press charges.” Matt keeps having to leave the room to laugh. Karen gets all teary-eyed with pride whenever Peter does does anything illegal, so she’s useless at scolding him. I had to scrap it in the end because it was a very big narrative point—Steve finding bucky again—that could be used in much more effective ways. It was devastating but made for a stronger plot.

I fully agree—a lot of fandom makes peter like, pretty spineless and helpless. I think there’s a big difference between making him young and making him a damsel which a lot of fanfiction misses. I, personally, like him insane. Ironically, pottery shards peter is probably the tamest peter i have in my drafts. 

Jack murdock was this lasting point of interest for me where I desperately wanted a fanfiction where he lived and there just really wasn’t a lot of options. Lying by Omission by deniigiq was really the only thing that had fun with an alive Jack murdock, but I really, really wanted a Jack who just managed to survive canon. Roscoe Sweeney taking Matt instead was the obvious choice, which—it has such fascinating implications for guilt that I was obsessed. I’m glad you also like it.

I’m glad you’re enjoying pottery shards and acts! Thank you for the kind words!

[inventors-fair]

Satisfied and Satisfactory: Runners-up! ~

Our runners-up this week are @just--a--penguin, @little-red-rabbit, and @snugz!

@just--a--penguin — Kiora’s Daring

Minor Aftermath spoilers, I guess, but it doesn’t super matter. Unless we aren’t talking about that. First order of business is that this card’s super well balanced and a great rare to throw down. On turn four, your previous creatures can perchance get some evasive action in, especially if you have an awesome seafarer like a Welkin Tern or even a little trampler. The ramp is awesome and the draw is awesome. Turn eight, if you’ve got all your drops, you can just put this down and basically get a free 8/8 for four mana but with the time investment already put in. Not gonna lie: as crazy as that it, I really like how you balanced that!

The first big edit is the trigger wording. “At the beginning of combat on your turn, choose target creature you control. Until end of turn, it gains...” should be the proper wording, IMO, because you want the end of the quoted ability to have a period. That’s the precedent for all other abilities worded like this, although none quite as specific as this one for precedent, unfortunately. The second small non-edit is just that this card’s good for its mechanics and I do want to play it. I guess I’m just not excited for the flavor portion? I don’t have to be for this to be a good card, and don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a 100% flavor-only contest. Maybe I just don’t get Kiora as a character. Still, this feels like a card where the mechanics matter more, and I do like them enough for it to be here.

@little-red-rabbit — Desire

And here we are, Incarnation 2: Revengeance! I’ll be honest: this card might be a runner-up, but it’s the one I feel with the absolute most daring mechanics. “It comes under your control tapped and attacking.” That’s so cool! And I just had to check the comprehensive rules about it... Darn it. Okay, so, I really thought this was going to work, and unless there’s a comprehensive rules change, 506.4 says that a creature is removed from combat if its controller changes. Does that affect this card? Prrrrrobably. Possibly. I honestly don’t know because there’s never been precedent quite like this before. So you know what, I’m going to change my suggestions and say instead that this card is ambitious enough for a potential comprehensive rules change if an effect like this got printed!

Wow. This rarely happens, and it’s super cool. Thanks for making me delve a little into rules effects! So: how would we make this work with the CompRules as it stands? Perhaps make it a tap ability, a beginning of combat trigger, or even a pie-bending exile-return effect? There are a few ways to go about it. Fading is an interesting choice, but it makes sense here. I don’t know if we’ll see fading again in Standard, but as a resource, I would check out Mark Rosewater’s “Storm Scale” articles. I’m not sure where Fading stands, heh.

Just for polish, here are a couple minor edits:

You gave this card fading 2, but put “3” in the reminder text. Whoops! Things get switched in editing, fair enough.

I believe this should be “Whenever Desire attacks,” not “when,” since it can happen repeatedly.

Flavor text is decent! I think you can take away the quotes, take out the “c” in “satisfied,” and switch “it’s” to “its.” Spelling aside, it reads really well, actually.

@snugz — Mourning Mage

And here we are back to the grimdark. Well, ish! What I really like about the flavor angle here is the fact that the flavor text emphasizes how this character is channeling their mourning, how we embark upon our passions, not necessarily through logic, but through the energy of grief. Which is...pretty messed up, actually. I like it. The quote should probably be in quotation marks, being a quote. Really neat overall, though, and I guess they found a cure based on that activated ability!

Mechanics-wise, yeah, this card’s rad as hell. I think that having kicker and investigate as two potentially major themes (or at least two themes with some overlap) is asking a bit, unless you want to imply that investigation is minor, as it was in something like the most recent Innistrad block. Great wording on that first ability, BTW; DMU’s pseudomultikicker was really fun and I’m curious about how it would come back here. Backwards compatibility is important. Regardless, clue generation can come about in a few ways, and as a rare midrangey kind of card, I like it a lot! You’ve got a build-around-me rare that someone’s probably gonna have fun with and a flavored ambition to top it off. Still asking a lot of implications, but I’m sure it would play fine.

I'm writing this early enough to need food before doing more commentary, but it's being written! See y'all soon.

@abelzumi

[1valentine19]

May 12th, 2023

Friday night

It’s been two weeks since I’ve come home from school. Two weeks which I’ve spent rotting away in my purple, lamplit bedroom, listening to music I first discovered riding in the backseat of my older sister’s best friend’s car and consuming media from thirty-something-year-olds hell-bent on subverting neoliberal ideologies by edging near extreme right-wing rhetoric. If you can’t tell from that sentence alone, I’m staring down the barrel of nineteen, only a few more weeks until I enter my last year of teenage girlhood. 

The idea of not being, well, this version of me, is fucking terrifying and I’m not handling it well. To be clear, my not handling things well does not have any correlation with the more than questionable media I’ve been choosing to consume, and if it does I’ll be refusing to acknowledge it, thank you very much. So you can forget about trying to talk some sense into me. I’m disillusioned and tired and maybe I just want to hear grown men say things they’re not supposed to say with a smoke signal security blanket of irony that can somewhat soothe my morals. Is that really so wrong? 

The answer is probably yes, but that’s something for 24-year-old me to figure out. 

Anyways, I’m turning nineteen soon and I’m probably going to be super anorexic and inconsolable about it. Ever since I was young, teenagers seemed to exist in a way no one else did, and now that I am one, I’ve spent years making sure I didn’t take the magic for granted. At least since sixteen, I would say. I’ve done the teenage things, all but fallen in love, and I’ve grown to adore this stint of my youth. I know I should’ve known better than to get attached to fleeting, transient things, but I am my mother’s daughter and I grew up loving trains only to end up crying on station platforms after they took me away from the ones I loved most. 

And I know I’m not special, and neither is any of this pain and that I’m at most a cliche of every mentally ill almost-nineteen-year-old who made the mistake of believing their pitfalls were a characterization of their youth and not their own DNA-engrained issues, but I’m still upset and I’m still going to be. Sometimes knowing better doesn’t stop you from doing better. That’s a lesson I keep on learning lately. 

I don’t know what it is but I feel like I’ve lost every ounce of my critical thinking and basic instinct, like they’ve slowly rotted away somewhere around last October. I was so smart when I was seventeen, I knew what was wrong and what was right and what I should and shouldn’t do. I feel like I’ve lost every good decision-making skill I had. The truth is, it’s easier to have perspective from the outside looking in, and I feel like I spent a good chunk of my time until eighteen looking into my life from a bird's eye view, never an active enjoyer or participant in any of it. 

As nineteen steadily approaches, I’ve been more and more interested in absolutely wrecking my life. I think I want to make the worst decisions I could possibly make and I think I’m going to let everyone rip me apart, thread by thread until I’m a fucked up mangled canvas with love and guts spilling out onto the floor, making a pathway of blood that leads right up to twenty. Quite the turnaround from the last soon-to-be nineteen years of never letting anyone in ever, but grey areas are for losers and I only deal in absolutes. I’m not in the air of half-assing anything, and I won’t let my destruction be the first thing to fall from my expectations. If I’m going to hit rock bottom, I might as well hit it fucking hard. 

Right? 

[badluck990]

Febuwhump Day 3 - Bite Down on this

Tw: Minor whump??(Snowfall and Frost are 18 but are still in high school)

“Is this gonna hurt?”

“Believe me I did everything I could to make it as non-painful as possible, but there was only so much, so yeah. It’s still going to hurt like hell. It is like splitting yourself in half after all.”

Less than a month ago she had hesitantly enrolled in Sacred Heart Academy, King Ray’s invite only magic school. But now, Frost had caused an upset as usual, the student would be fine in the long run, but unlike usual she hadn’t been expelled.

“Miss Snowfall, you are your half were invited her because we saw the reports of you having an especially violent half, you aren’t going to be expelled for the very thing we thought we could help you with.” The King explained.

“Now then. Now that we’ve seen exactly what she can do we have two options for you:

We can give you specialized classes to help you control her.

While we must warn this is still experimental, we have been developing a device that could separate you and your half.

If you’d like, we can give you some time to think about it.”

On one hand the fact that the device was experimental scared her, on the other she’d spent so many years dealing with Frost. Was it even possible to get a handle on her at this point?

“Separate us.” Snowfall insisted.

“For once I agree with something you say,” Frost teased.

“Very well, I’ll come collect you tonight after the rest of your classes.”

And that’s how they ended up in the castle watching Ray’s right hand, Daiki, set up the device.

“Now there’s no guarantee who your shared magic will go to, if either. It could split between you as when halves naturally separate from trust, you could both lose it, there’s no telling!” 

The girls nodded, the machine had them sit back to back and what was essentially an enchanted guillotine that would cut the magical link.

“It’s ready Sir!” They were each handed a cloth, “Bite down on this please, we’ll give you a countdown before it activates.”

“5.” Snowfall, becoming nervous bit down on the cloth harder.

“4.” Frost was more than ready to get rid of her limiter.

“3.” They gripped the edge of their chairs.

“2.” Frost realized something. They didn’t have a strong connection. She was still mostly magic. Could this kill her?

“1.” She spat out the rag, “Wait!”

“Release!” The blade dropped and the girls’ screams shook the room.

When the shock was over Frost had blood in her mouth, but it didn’t matter, she was fucking alive. And better yet she could feel the magical energy under her skin more than ever before. She stomped the floor making her ice spread across the floor and Snowfall hurried away. 

“Frost, was it? I suggest-” 

“It’s stronger, it’s so much stronger!” She cut off Daiki as her ice kept spreading.

“Sir, can I knock her out?”

“Please do.”

Frost was darted and fell to the now frozen floor, “It may be best to keep her…here for a couple days. Of course your mother will be notified of everything.”

Snowfall was returned to the school and found Frost's eye was gone. That being said she kept the eye patch not sure how to explain a meeting with the freaking king to Maddie or Noah.

For the first time she actually tried to use the ice magic not having to worry about Frost going too far with it. Her friends took notice of her new found confidence and once everything felt good. 

At least until she face timed her mom.

“What’s got you so chipper sweetie?”

She showed off the ice balls she had been making, “I’m gonna start learn how to do snow next week!”

“So Frost finally stopped giving you trouble?”

She didn’t know.

“Uh yeah, Hey sorry to drop off so soon I have plans with Maddie. I love you!” 

Why didn’t she know?

Just like that she was freaking out again, only not about magic, about what she’d done.

It all got worse a week later, when there was a news story. About a mystery person causing mass destruction. The best video still covered the person within the blizzard of their creation.

Snowfall really didn’t want to believe it, besides it was too calculated to be Frost. But her silhouette was unmistakable, her messy hair, the lack of shoes she could see in the vivid parting of the fog.

What happened in the capital?

[642stories]

Story #43, CELTA weeks 7-8

I believe I owe you some more insights about Celta!

Week 7 was so hard that I dreamed about sending it all to hell so I could indulge in sleeping 🛌 . Which I did the moment the second session was over. Literally. I was in bed 10 minutes after the tutor bid us goodbye 😅

On Monday I had my lesson 3 - listening - and it was relatively easy.

On Thursday I had a language focus lesson - Vocabulary. Usually, you are supposed to expose students to 10-12 new lexical items at once. In my lesson I had 23😱 I couldn’t choose the materials at that point and had to navigate my way through what I was given. So I decided to do TTT over PPP. I’ll share a post in a couple of days with some details about that particular lesson.

The trickiest thing about it was the language analysis sheet I was supposed to compete along with my lesson plan. 23 words and collocations. Definitions. CCQs for all of them. What to draw students’ attention to in terms of form? Pronunciation? Where will I need to cover an appropriacy aspect? That sheet was total shit. Took me about three hours.

On top of that, there was another live class, three more modules on the Moodle platform, a stage report one, then a personal tutorial and a stage report 2. Along the way I also conducted an interview with a student for assignment 1 I have to submit at the end of the month.

Phew. Shoot me now 🔫

Week 8 started and we were given a new group of learners - Uppers. They are cool, have been together for a while, come from different backgrounds, curious, ask dozens of questions and have established nice rapport.

Since for the first lesson with the new group we only had to cover a short “getting to know you” activity and observe our new tutor, it felt like having a breather.

Lesson 5 was Grammar - it’s time, I’d rather, I’d better.

I also completed two modules on the platform, and had gotten a “pass” for assignment 2.

Lesson 6 tomorrow! So far so good, but I’m definitely not gonna miss it when it ends!

🥱