Tumgik
#I don’t want to be homeless again
auguststormstories · 8 months
Text
“What I wanted to be”
A artist
That was well known
Had a comic book
That I drew
And people were fans
Was a comedian
Who did stand up
And people laughed
Had a home
In the mountains and hills
That was connected to water
With a four wheeler
That my kid and I drove
In the hills
Was rich just enough
To not be worried
About rent
Food
Or not even surviving
Had these things
In my imagination
8-24-2023
4 notes · View notes
crippled-peeper · 5 months
Text
I just broke a tooth and I haven’t cried this hard in a while . I want to die so bad
11 notes · View notes
queencherryberry · 2 years
Text
I can’t believe I’m doing this but I’ve run out of options and I got rejected for 2 interviews today. My roommate and I are on the verge of getting kicked out of the motel we’re staying in and he could possibly lose his kid again to the state. We’re asking anyone to help out with rent. The room rent split between us is $505.67. He’s got his half covered but I’m screwed and my mom cut me off for asking for help. We don’t want to be homeless and I’m still trying to put out as many applications as possible with the work skills I have. Anything helps. We’re hoping we can get at least another week here. Unfortunately for availability in apartments nothing is open till the end of November. He’s also possibly looking at getting his car repossessed cause if he can’t make a payment this week he’s 2 weeks behind. This is not a pitty cry, just hitting rock bottom and asking for help if you can provide it. Here’s my Venmo, again anything helps.
Tumblr media
31 notes · View notes
Text
capitalism and cannibalism almost rhyme #deep
2 notes · View notes
circledotdestroy · 2 months
Text
I haven’t written in days :(
0 notes
wh0ratio · 6 months
Text
it’s crazy how I lost everything in 5 days. it hasn’t even fully hit me yet- like I am now a full orphan, my house is getting taken by the state sometime soon and I don’t know how much time I have left to produce money in my bank account to be able to live somewhere else (that’s been in the negatives for a month) I’m unemployed still and can’t find any papers that prove i can work and I’m probably going to lose my cat, who is the absolute light of my life and my best friend too and I don’t think I can survive through it and on top of that, I’m scared I’ll pass the same way my dad did-nobody saw it coming but what if it happens to me too what will I do- what about my cat and my friend- what about all the money and bills it’ll cost?
if I could just live in an apartment with my cat, even a shitty 200 sq ft box of a place that I could live in safely and work- I think I could maybe live- maybe
But dad dying doesn’t change the fact that we were both in the negatives- it doesn’t change the fact that the only place I could live was with him- it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t just go anywhere with kitty Merlin and I can’t live without her either- it doesn’t change anything except now I’ve lost absolutely everything in one big go
1 note · View note
deadsetobsessions · 2 months
Text
Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.3
[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.4][Pt.5][Pt.6][Pt.7]
“Aquaman.” Batman swept into the room, beelining straight for the suddenly apprehensive Atlantean king.
“Batman. What can I do for you?”
“Phantom. Does he pay taxes?”
“Pardon?”
Batman makes a low noise that had Aquaman’s danger senses buzzing.
“Does Phantom have to pay taxes. Towards Atlantis.”
“No…? Why?”
“He wanted money, in exchange for… information, of a delicate sort,” Batman said, diplomatically avoiding the topic of Phantom bargaining for the identities of corpses in exchange for a measly $100 dollars per identity. Like a flea market dealer, that one was.
“You encountered Phantom again?” Aquaman perked up.
“Yes. Gotham’s bay is… polluted.” Batman paused. “With victims. Of murder.”
The entire area quieted as heads turned towards the Dark Knight.
“Yes, I am… distantly aware of Gotham’s waters.” By that, Aquaman gets green around the gills whenever he turns his awareness in that direction. There’s a reason he doesn’t enter Gotham, and the Dark Knight’s ban is only half of that reason. “Ah, but you’re correct. For what purpose would Phantom need mortal currency?”
“Hn.”
“Maybe he needs some stuff?” Flash zipped to a stop next to Batman, feet tapping as he dug into the pile of snacks cradled in his arms. “Us mortals are always coming up with new things, maybe he wants to try some games or something?”
Batman tilted his head down, seriously considering Flash’s suggestion. “It’s plausible.”
“Barry, Barry, Barry. He’s old as hell, right? He probably wants to try the new booze!”
“Hal, my man!” Flash fist bumped Green Lantern, who came up. “You’re back! What happened to John?”
“Dunno. He got called somewhere that way,” Green Lantern waved a vague hand towards the left. “Had to deal with a politician or something from that area.” He shrugged, swinging an arm over Barry’s shoulders to put him in a headlock and stealing a chip.
“Huh. Anyways, would our mortal alcohol even work on a demi-god or something?”
“We should ask!” Hal turned towards Batman. “You should ask if he wants to go for a drink, spooky!”
“He’s a child.”
“He’s been around for more than a millennia, Bats.”
“Informational gathering, right, Hal?” Flashgot out of the headlock, quickly munching on his snacks to stop Green Lantern from stealing them.
“Totally. Yup.”
“…Fine.”
“Wait, are we just gonna ignore that Gotham’s waters are full of bodies?”
“Yes.”
——
“What?” Danny asked, mind half on the bags he’s dragging out of the water and the other half on the essay he has to submit in about four hours.
“Green Lantern wanted to invite you out for a drink.”
Danny turned to the stoic Gotham knight, who had his wrist computer out to log the bodies’ info the moment Danny gave him the information. Some of them even told Danny who murdered them, so Batman could start building cases with solid leads.
Danny’s only twenty. He’s not legal yet but he doesn’t want to give any clues to who he is. How is he supposed to…
Ah!
“Can’t.” Danny shrugged. “I’m not legal. I died when I was fourteen so…” Danny trailed off, speechless at the drowned puppy face Batman was giving him. What the fuck.
“Anyways, fork over my payment.”
Batman wordlessly hands him a wad of hundreds.
“What do you need cash for?” Batman suddenly asked.
“Huh? Isn’t it obvious?” Danny tucked it in. “Material things, obviously. I need a blanket,” because holy shit, Gotham is damn cold this time of year. “Anyways, see you same time next week, litterer.”
“I don’t litter.”
“Tell that to the batarangs I found under the water,” Danny grumbled. “But I’ll stop calling you that if you get a signature from Poison Ivy. I have a friend who loves her.”
“An alive friend?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy?”
Danny snickered and disappeared. He’s gotta cram that essay.
——
“There’s a possibility Phantom might be homeless.”
“Batman, I mean this in the nicest way, but for the love of Atlantis, please stop giving me headaches. It’s time like these I wish I stayed a lighthouse keeper.”
5K notes · View notes
fairuzfan · 1 month
Text
But the other images I had was like a mass refugee camp. So basically at that point in time, two months ago, about 20,000 people had sought refuge both in the hospital and outside the hospital. And these weren’t tents. They’re still not tents. They’re makeshift shelters with bed sheets or plastic bag sheets. The ones outside sleep on the floor. They’re lucky [if] they get a carpet or a mat. There was one bathroom at the time for about 200 people that they have to share. And inside, the hallways of the hospital were also made into shelters. There was hardly any room to walk, and there’s children running around everywhere. It’s important to remember all these people were not homeless. They all had homes that were destroyed. They’re all displaced people that took shelter in the hospital.
So that’s the kind of mass chaos that I encountered initially, and then I was told that every time there’s a bomb, give it about 15 minutes and the mass casualties come. That was the other thing that at the time shocked me: What we’d been seeing livestreamed on Instagram, on social media or whatever, I actually saw myself and it was worse than I can imagine. I saw scenes that were horrific that I’d never witnessed before and I never want to see again. You have a mother walking in holding her 8, 9-year-old, skinny — because they’re all starving — boy who’s dead, he’s cold and dead and [the mother is] screaming, asking for someone to check his pulse and everybody’s busy in the mass chaos. So that was kind of my initial welcoming scene when I entered Khan Younis the first time.
{...}
What I saw — I’m an eye surgeon, an eye plastic surgeon, and so I saw the classic, what I penned “the Gaza shrapnel face,” because in an explosive scenario, you don’t know what’s coming. When there’s an explosion, you don’t go like this [cover your face], you kind of actually, in fact, open your eyes. And so shrapnel’s everywhere. It’s a well-known fact that the Israeli forces are experimenting [with] weapons in Gaza to boost their weapon manufacturing industry. Because if a weapon is battle-tested, it’s more valuable, isn’t it? It’s got a higher value. So basically they’re using these weapons, these missiles that purposely, intently create these large shrapnel fragments that go everywhere. And they cause amputations that are unusual.
Most amputations occur at the weak points, the elbow or the knee, and so they’re better tolerated. But these [shrapnel fragments] are causing mid-thigh, mid-arm amputations that are more difficult, more challenging, and also the rehabilitation afterward is also more challenging. Also these shrapnels [are] unlike a bullet wound. A bullet wound goes in and out; there’s an entry and exit point. Shrapnel stays there. So you gotta take it out. So the injuries I saw were — I mean, I saw people with their eyes blown apart. And when I was there, and this is my experience, I treated all children when I was there the first time. It was kids that [were aged] 2, 6, 9, 10, 13, 15, and 16, and 17 were the ones that I treated. And their eyes unfortunately had to be removed. They had shrapnel in their eye sockets that I had to remove and, of course, remove the eye. There’s many patients, many children who had shrapnel in both their eyes. And you can only do so much because right now, because of the aid blockade and because of the destruction of most of Gaza, there’s no equipment available to take shrapnel that’s in the eye out. And so we just leave them alone and they eventually go blind.
{...}
I was on the ground, I toured the refugee camps, I went around Rafah, I saw, and if there’s an Israeli invasion, I can’t emphasize enough how catastrophic it’s going to be. It’ll be mass killing, mass destruction, because all these figures come in, 50 dead, 100 wounded. But what people don’t realize is, being wounded is a death sentence. Being wounded in this environment with no health care system, completely collapsed, is a death sentence. And the wounded often will lose everybody, like all family members, so they have no supports, especially children, have nobody left to take care of them, not even aunts and uncles. It will be catastrophic. I don’t know what to say to the world to stop an impending invasion. You’ve got to rein this prime minister of Israel in. You got to do something to stop this stupid invasion that he still wants to do, because it’ll be catastrophic.
{...}
I had one young man, about 25 years old, he lost one eye that I took out myself. He spent about five, six, or seven years, basically spent thousands and thousands of dollars in IVF treatment because he got married young and they wanted to have a child and they couldn’t have one. So he spent years on IVF treatment and finally had a baby that was 3 months old. And there was a missile attack by Israel at his home. He lost his entire family, including his baby and his wife and his parents and family. He’s by himself, single guy. I took his one eye out, and he has nobody in this world. He just kind of walks around the tent structures, just kind of walking around with no home and trying to sleep wherever he can.
3K notes · View notes
a-quinn-ton · 1 year
Text
i’m actually losing it
#we put together so many pieces from our past and it sucks#like i don’t think there is even a full year span until very recently where we weren’t being abused or neglected in some kind of way…#i don’t feel safe and i want to not exist for a while#who the fuck abuses a 2-4 year old because they aren’t the correct version of a christian?#who the fuck takes advantage of a kid while they are in the middle of play pretend?#who the fuck grooms a child as a teacher who knows the kid is in an unsafe living situation?#who the fuck let’s their child be homeless at the age of 10?#who the fuck abuses their patient who isn’t even a teenager yet?#who the fuck tries to kidnap and r*pe their partner whilst knowing that they aren’t even 15 yet?#who the fuck sends their buddies after that same partner for years after the abuse happened?#who the fuck takes advantage of their roommate after using triggers to attempt to hurt a little in a system after they know that system?#who the fuck leaves for weeks only to come back and not give their partners any answers?#i’m so fucking tired no wonder i attempted 11+times#oh yeah what kind of parents straight out tell their kid that they aren’t enough and that they are a disappointment?#i just don’t feel like i should be around anymore like i’m losing friends and people in my life at a rapid rate and if i keep this up…#i’ll be alone again and maybe it’ll be for the best#maybe then i can finally finish the job and end it instead of having to keep trying to outrun my past
0 notes
sacharinee · 10 months
Note
more sleepy!peter pleaseee!!!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: peter parker x reader
w/c: 800+
a/n: i had the roles reversed this time lolol - this post is based on x and abt one office reference!
Tumblr media
peter loved sleeping next to you.
your bed was always so comfy and you were always so warm.
but sometimes it had its downsides
it could just be the frustration getting to him, but the poor boy couldn’t seem to sleep.
maybe it was the fact that you two were practically sleeping in a freezer. you always told your boyfriend you couldn’t ever fall asleep in a hot box. 
or maybe it could just be you, sleeping so peacefully, without a care in the world, unmoved and unbothered, all while being the world’s biggest blanket hogger. 
he also knew he shouldn’t have drank that extra cup of coffee earlier in the evening, however in his defense, he was exhausted, and he needed that extra boost to get through his last few classes of the day.
as he looked at you, a shiver ran down from his neck and to his spine, feeling goosebumps scatter around his arms.
the dim lamppost outside shines through your window and onto your relaxed face. peter’s jealous of the sweet slumber you’re in.
“y/n?” he reaches out to poke your puffy cheek.
you’re dead asleep. 
you were tucked away across the mattress as he tries tugging the blanket away from you, attempting to spare some for himself. your loose grip allows peter to find comfort in the heat the warm sheets bring when he wraps it around his shoulders, tucking his feet inside and tangling it with yours. 
peter feels himself finally dozing off, his heart rate slowly decreasing. he's halfway asleep when you disrupt him, feeling you gradually snatch the blanket away, stripping him of the toasty covers.
“y/n/n,” he groans. the boy is now restless as he begins to lightly poke your cheek again, “c’mon please?” 
this time, when he reaches for you once more, he feels you quickly wrap your hand around his pointer finger.
“touch me one more time, parker and i swear-”
“i just wanna sleep” he whines. he’s frowning at you with those big eyes, wishing you would turn around to face him. 
“you’re gonna be sleeping by yourself for the rest of your life if you don’t-”
“please,” his voice cracks. peter's desperate to rest and the least you could is to help out.
you heave a sigh, “peter just,” you turn towards him, keeping your lids shut, “close your eyes”
he’s quick to do so tightly, shifting around to get more comfortable, “take some deep breaths.”
peter follows your instructions, “slow your heartbeat down,” he takes a few moments to focus on the task and he begins to feel more at ease than he has the entire night. he waits a bit longer for you to continue.
“and then what?”
silence.
“y/n?”
no answer.
“y/n!” and he’s shaking your shoulders, “you can’t sleep now!”
you groan in annoyance, “just go to sleep, peter”
“you don’t think i would if i could!?” he huffs.
“well, what d’you want me to do?”
“umm,” he takes a few moments to ponder before he suggests, “ask me about my day.” 
you blink one eye open at him, glaring, “it’s 2am... and you want me to ask you how your day was?”
peter blankly blinks in return, offering you a toothy grin, “mm, yea!”
you could only stare back at him blankly as he waits for you, and slowly you ask, “how was your day.”
he’s instantly giddy at your question (which definitely didn’t sound like a question), and breathes out a relieved sigh.
“i’m so glad you asked,” he shakes his head, “it was so tiring.”
he began to ramble on about how eventful his day was. and no matter how hard you tried to fight off sleep, there was something so calming about peter’s voice that puts you to sleep.
“-and she bought me a churro, so that was nice. oh, and you know howard? that homeless man on 31st?”
“mhmgh.” 
gradually, he subconsciously moves closer to you, playing with a loose thread of your blanket and tucking himself in, snug against your body. 
“he told me that he lost his pet pigeons when he got kicked out and he asked me to go help find them for him. i never realized how hard it was to swing while holding a couple of birds. but anyways, i still have-”
peter takes a look at you as you doze off and whines your name.
he’s shocked when you surprisingly move towards him, bringing an arm around his torso and tangling your legs with his.
at last, the boy seems calm down after awhile, focusing his breathing to follow suit with yours. talking did seem to help. now he’s finally warm, laying in bed next to the girl he loves most. and you’re pleased with your effort to help him sleep.
it's only a matter of time until he pipes up again.
“hey y/n, if I was a worm in a top hat who could only communicate with you telepathically, would you still love me?” 
“dammit, peter”
2K notes · View notes
asonofpeter · 8 months
Text
Night Shift
Tumblr media
Pairing: Jaime Reyes x F!Reader
Summary: Jaime doesn't like that you work a night shift at a bar, so setting out to get a job at Kord Industries, you're shocked when he comes home with something else....
Warnings: mentions of men being pervs, lots of screaming and a little bit of violence, SPOILERS FOR BLUE BEETLE!
Word Count: 2.4k
A/N: My first full fic in a while? Yes, it is indeed and with my new love, Jaime Reyes. If you haven't seen Blue Beetle, pause and go buy a ticket cause this movie is good! So proud of mi Xolito! Anyway, I'm proud of this, so enjoy! 💕💕💕
I don't consent to my work being copied, reposted, or translated.
“You don’t have to do this, y’know? I’ll get the job tomorrow and work hard to support the family and us,” Jaime stood up from your bed, grabbing hold of your hands to stop you from getting ready for work. 
“Jaime, I know you want to do everything you can to stop us from losing the house, but we need the money, wherever we can get it from,” you inhaled. 
You moved in with the Reyes three years ago after your parents kicked you out. The details are unimportant and messy but you were happy you ended up in a loving household after all. The only problem now, you’re on the brink of becoming homeless.
“But a job where drunk assholes violate you?” he scoffed and you rolled your eyes, knowing most customers haven’t gotten handsy since you started. “It’s not right,” he shook his head, squeezing your hands. “I don’t want you to have to go through that,” he rested his forehead against yours. 
You knew he meant well. It sucked having to work at a bar where wearing low-cut tops and push-up bras made for extra tips. Especially when you worked during the night. But then again, even when businesses are going bankrupt, bars are seemingly filling in at an all-time high. You had to take advantage of the dire situation even if Jaime didn’t like it.
“I can handle my own,” you smirked. “Nana taught me a thing or two,” you winked. 
“I bet she did,” he chuckled. 
“And besides,” you removed your hands from his grip, smoothing them up his arms until they rested on his biceps. “I have my big strong boyfriend to protect me,” you looked at him finding the blush forming on his face adorable.
He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in as he leaned forward to kiss you. His lips moved against yours slowly, one of your hands moving up to tug on the hair of the nape of his neck. 
Living in a small house with five other people gave you no privacy whatsoever, so moments like these were cherished. All those stolen glances, hidden kisses, late-night talks—it all meant something. 
“I gotta go, okay? I’ll see you in the morning,” you pulled away. 
“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you walk to work alone at eleven at night,” he grabbed your arm lightly, pulling you back into his embrace. “I’ll be there to pick you up at seven too,” he said and you sighed out contently.
“It means a lot, but don’t you have your job interview tomorrow?” you rested your head against his chest as you both walked out of your and Milagro’s room.
“I’ll sleep, wake up, pick you up, then come back and get ready,” he shrugged and you agreed with his well-thought-out plan. 
“Ya te vas, mija?” Rocio asked once you both entered the kitchen and you nodded. “Cuidate, y come tu comida, no quiero que te desmayes,” she handed you a paper sack and you smiled, thanking her. 
It was things like that which made you grateful for Jaime’s family—your family. The constant protection and worry they hold over you like one would for a daughter or sister. Making sure you had a lunch packed so you can eat and not faint during your shift. It warmed your heart and made you grateful every day. 
“Make sure she gets there safe, okay, Jaime?” Alberto pointed to his son and your boyfriend nodded, reassuring the two. 
Walking out of the house, you found your hands intertwined as you made your way down the block. You glanced at Jaime to find him smiling at you before he looked ahead. You grinned at the fact you caught him before you too continued your focus forward.
Palerma City was alive at night, even in the small barrio you lived in. The streets were dark, flickering lamp posts illuminating the people who were still up trying to make a living by whatever means. You looked far past, the bright neon skyline of the city, all the rows of high rises where all the rich white folk were fast asleep tucked away in silk sheets. 
You would get there one day. 
“What did my mom pack for your lunch?” he asked, pulling you out of your thought.
“A torta de jamon, an apple and orange, some Fritos, and oh, a gansito,” you gasped in excitement before you stuffed the bag in your backpack. “I know exactly what I’m eating first,” you giggled. 
“My mom literally said we ran out of gansitos,” he said in shock. “She loves you more than me,” he feigned hurt and you wrapped your arm around him, cooing as you kissed his cheek.
“What can I say? I’m lovable,” you hummed.
The two of you turned the corner and you found yourself at “Margaritaville”, the newest establishment where you got paid minimum wage and received great tips from businessmen who got off on a pretty bartender flirting with them before they made their way home to their wives. Or from people who recently got laid off from their jobs and needed someone to talk to.
Either way, you’d put on your best smile, bat your lashes and make sure your top was low enough if that meant being able to pay part of the rent.
“Be safe, okay?” Jaime pulled you in for a hug. “I’ll be awake at 6:30,” he promised. 
“I will,” you mumbled into his neck before pulling away. “See you soon,” you smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 
He cupped your cheek before you pulled away, your fingers pulling along his, straining to stay in touch as you kept moving toward the door until they unlinked, his arm stayed hovered in the air for a split moment while yours dropped to the side. He watched as you turned back and waved until you entered through the back door, making sure to stay for a minute before he turned back around. 
The lingering touch of you remained on his fingers until he arrived home and made his way to bed. It wasn’t fair you had to become a main stream of income for the house. It shouldn’t be you pulling in the long hours, it should be him.
He needed to get that interview at Kord Industries tomorrow.
~
You undid your apron, shoving it back into your backpack. You let out a sigh as you did a once over to the barely empty bar. The next shift already arrived and was taking care of the customers. Letting out a yawn, you placed your tips in your pocket, opening the back door only to be greeted by Jaime who was waiting at the curb.
“Buenos dias, mi amor,” he smiled and you felt your cheeks blush at the pet name he liked to change out every once in a while. “Made you breakfast,” he handed you something rolled in some paper towels before you unveiled two bean burritos. “How was work?” he kissed your cheek while he took your bag from you.
“Made $150 in tips,” you stated, biting into your food. “Getting paid tomorrow, so it went well,” you nodded. “Customers were more to themselves tonight, except for this one guy who was crying about his wife leaving him. I think he left looking for a prostitute to be honest,” you chuckled. 
“Poor dude,” he hummed. “But the money is good,” he said, wrapping his arm around you. 
The rest of the short walk was made in silence and it was calming to just have Jaime by your side. The eight-hour shift takes it out on you and you couldn’t wait to go to sleep. 
“Hola,” you greeted as you walked through the door. 
“Como te fue?” Nana asked and you responded to her before a yawn came out.
“Disculpe,” you pressed a hand to your chest. “I’m gonna go shower,” you said, the family understanding as you made your way to your room. 
After a quick shower and changing into casual wear, you felt refreshed as you walked back into the family room. The whole family was gathered as Jaime stood in the middle, hair geled back and his fancy clothes put on.
“Wow, que chulo,” you complimented with a bright smile plastered on your face as you stood behind the couch. 
“You see, cabezon? You look fine,” Uncle Rudy told his nephew and Jaime nodded in defeat, clearly flustered. “Y/N wouldn’t lie, she loves you too much for that!” he cackled and you joined in, making Jaime blush even more.
“Let’s go and get this over with, I still don’t trust that Jenny girl,” Milagro muttered under her breath and you sent a glance at Jaime. 
You were aware of what happened when Milagro and Jaime lost their job with Victoria Kord. Millie was correct to have a distaste for the older lady, but after her niece offered an olive branch, giving Jaime an opportunity–you weren’t sure if she was in the right to have that distrust. But then again, you weren’t there.
“Descansas, okay?” Nana kissed you on the cheek and gave you the blessing before she walked out and you nodded. 
The rest of the family walked out, leaving you and Jaime left. 
“Good luck, okay?” you grabbed his face and gave him a chaste good luck kiss. “I know you’re gonna woo them over,” you sent him a sure smile. 
“How are you so sure about that?” he held your wrists, running his thumbs over your delicate skin. 
“Cause, you’re Jaime Reyes”.
~
“You don’t know what’s inside?” you heard Millie ask. 
You were awakened by muffled conversations, your brows furrowing as you checked the time. They couldn’t have come back that soon and if something serious happened, they would’ve woken you up. 
About to drift back to sleep, you eyes shot open by shouting. The voices of Jaime, Millie, and Rudy combine together. Bolting out of bed fast, you opened the door and ran into the dining room, finding Millie and Rudy to be playing hot potato with a blue bug, Jaime trying to get them to stop.
“Mira, look what you did! You woke her up,” Rocio gestured to you and the room suddenly got quiet. 
“Ay, Y/N, I’m sorry,” Jaime winced, trying to grab the thing from Millie but she held it out of his reach. 
“Look what Jaime brought back. That Jenny girl is a total floozy, like what is this that she gave him?” she cocked a brow, holding it clearly so you could see.
“A bug?” you rubbed your eyes. “Why would she give you a bug?” you asked, walking closer. 
“She told me to guard it with my life, I wasn’t even supposed to open it,” your boyfriend explained and his words made you uneasy. 
“I think you should put it back, you don’t know what it can be,” you turned to Millie. 
“She’s right,” Jaime held out his hand and Milagro reluctantly agreed, placing it in his palm.
You watched as he was about to place it back in the box until it lit up, his face inching closer to inspect it. You stared back in amazement, the bug coming to life.
“I think it likes me,” he grinned, glancing up at you with a twinkle in your eyes that made your heart skip a beat. But that smile was instantly wiped away the moment the bug launched itself onto his face.
“JAIME!” you screeched, the family shooting up from their seats as they tried to aid him.
“It’s on your face!” Uncle Rudy screamed before he grabbed onto the bug, attempting to rip it off but it shot out a bolt of electricity, sending him across the room and Jaime against the wall. 
Your body began to shake and you wanted to run over to help Jaime but he got up, the bug detaching from his face until it crawled over his shoulder and under his shirt like a spider you wanted off immediately. 
“Jaime!” you shouted, his body thrashing around the room like he was fighting with the bug. “Baby, please,” you cried, hands over your mouth as you tried to begin to process what was going on but you couldn’t.
“Oh god,” Jaime stilled, hunched over as he looked at you. “I think it’s inside of me,” his gaze filled with panic and you felt your skin crawl. “It’s inside of me!” he screamed, hand reaching out for yours before he doubled over in pain, the bug poking out underneath his clothes before arms pierced through, sending him up against the ceiling.
Another wave of screams sounded, the love of your life’s agony cries being the worst thing you ever heard. The tears were falling down your cheeks. You wanted to help him but couldn’t. You wanted to know what was going on but didn’t. You were completely helpless in this situation.
Black goo grew over his body, his clothes burning to crisps and you were afraid of what it was going to do once it got all of him. Were you about to lose your Jaime? How did you get to this point when it was just a job interview? 
“Y/N!” his call for you made your heart stop and you tried telling him you were here but his cries drowned it out. 
Suddenly, he was completely transformed, a suit of armor in black and blue engulfed him. The cries and the screams quieted down as you all stared at him. A split second ago, you thought he was going to die, but now he was fine? It didn’t make sense. 
“Mijo?” Rocio called out as Jaime walked over to the photo of La Virgen, his illuminating yellow eyes staring back into the reflection.
“What was that?” he looked back in shock, hands over his mouth. “Did you hear that?” his voice was panicked, his expression hidden with the eyes providing just the tiniest amount of concern. 
“Jaime, what’s going on?” you took a step forward. 
“That voice, you don’t hear a voice?” he walked forward, standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by all of you. The suit seemed to have turned on, blue light glowing between grooves and you all watched in awe. “Systems check?” he mumbled, looking around the room. 
“Jaime?” you asked, noticing the arms powering up.
“It’s okay, everything is going to be okay!” he shouted just as he was flown through the ceiling before he became a dot in the sky. 
Nothing was okay.
~
Reblogs are the best!
2K notes · View notes
charlietheepicwriter7 · 2 months
Text
Dick Grayson V Gotham
Chapter 1 - AO3 - Constantine Jr. AU
There were a few minutes every morning, in the dark before dawn when his alarm hadn’t yet rung, where Dick Grayson felt most at peace. Despite the ache in his body the night out as Nightwing, he felt refreshed and content to just rest his eyes until his phone rang and it was time to get ready for the day. 
Unfortunately, peace was never meant to last. 
With a loud crash that definitely woke the neighbors, a little body kicked his door in. A switch was flipped and blinding light filled the room. Dick squinted in the general direction of the intruder. “Get up already!” Danny, his ward, snapped, rushing forward to rip the blankets off his bed. Dick let him. “There’s a case ready for us at the precinct!” 
Dick checked his phone. No missed calls, and Danny didn’t have a phone yet. “Is this another psychic thing?” he asked. 
Danny rolled his eyes. “If I say yes, will you get your ass out of bed already?”
“Language,” he chided absentmindedly, but still got out of bed. Danny glared up at him, still not satisfied, and dragged him to the bathroom with a surprising amount of strength for an 8-year-old. “Huh! You’re really in a hurry today.”
“No, you’re just super slow!”
Dick pulled back against Danny, slowing their progress considerably. “Oh, it’s the age!” Dick bemoaned, draping himself dramatically against the wall. “Now that I have a kid of my own to look after, the years have started to take their toll—Ow!”
Danny glared up at him like he hadn’t just kicked Dick in the shin. Brat. “Be dramatic in your own time! We have a case, Dick, we need to go!”
“Alright, alright, I’m going!” Dick complied and got in the bathroom, saying just before he closed the door, “Make sure you’re dressed in clothes you can afford to lose! I don’t want you to get blood on your favorite jeans again!” Danny shouted back his agreement and finally, Dick was alone. 
As Dick washed his face and did his business, he contemplated how he got there. Honestly, he didn’t get what Bruce was always complaining about; this guardianship thing was going great! It was three weeks since he’d wrangled Danny home, but he’d been preparing for this for months, ever since he learned that the little brat trying to solve murders was homeless. It took months of classes, meetings with CPS, and interviews with friends and family, but Dick was now the proud foster parent of Danny Smith!
Fortunately, Dick had managed to convince Bruce that the foster license was precautionary, like if he needed to protect a minor. Which was what he was doing! So not technically a lie!
Although, Bruce had his hands full already. Some new crime lord had taken up the Joker’s old alias and it was driving the old man up the wall. Bruce had even asked Dick for help on the case last night! He’d said no, of course; he wasn’t just going to abandon Danny in Bludhaven for days while they hunted down Red Hood, and he wasn’t going to spring Danny on Bruce, nor Bruce on Danny. Danny was a flight risk and had expressed disdain for millionaires in the past, and Bruce was… worse than he used to be. Tim had managed to resurrect some of the dad Bruce used to be, but ever since Jason… 
Well, it was good that they wouldn’t be seeing each other any time soon. Maybe by then Tim will have convinced Bruce to go to therapy!
Coming out of the bathroom, Dick started at Danny, dressed in jeans and a Digimon t-shirt, standing on the counter and getting Dick’s lunch bag off the shelf. He cocked an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“Packing breakfast to-go!” Danny said, jumping off the counter. Dick’s heart skipped a beat and he lunged forward, but Danny landed before Dick could reach him. He glared at Dick. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” He straightened up, playing it cool. He observed what Danny had laid out for breakfast as he started the coffee machine. A banana, two yogurts, and a handful of granola just poured out onto the table. “You know, you absorb more nutrients when you sit down and actually enjoy your food. And we don’t need lunch to-go. Remember, we talked about this? We have to wait for someone to report the crime first.”
“How do you know no one hasn’t yet?” Danny challenged. 
“Have they?”
“...No. We could report the crime though,” Danny grumbled, but opened a yogurt cup. 
They really couldn’t. If they reported the crime, they’d still have to wait for other officers and CSI before investigating, and that’s even if they were given the case! But more importantly… Dick was the only officer in the department who believed Danny could see ghosts. 
Sure, Commissioner Gonzalez believed Danny, but that was just one woman. As much as he appreciated the Commissioner’s work helping get Danny off the streets and processing the paperwork to ensure the boy got recognition as an official BPD consultant… well, Dick knew she had ties to the gangs in town, he just couldn’t prove it. Just because she liked him and Danny doesn’t make her good. 
The fact that she promoted him to detective was evidence enough. Dick was an amazing detective—like everyone trained by Batman—but normally you’d need a certain number of years and successful cases for that level of promotion, both of which Dick didn’t have. Hell, he’d only been working as a cop for two years! But Danny was only willing to work with Dick… so Dick became the youngest detective in the city. 
The coffee machine sang a little robotic song and Dick placed a Nightwing mug under the spout just in time to catch the stream. As Danny finished his breakfast, Dick shooed him off to go brush his teeth and turned on the TV. He still had thirty minutes before they had to leave for work—
“—taking after his father!” Jack Rider’s voice rang through the apartment. Dick frowned; why was this trash on? “Although I have to say, I don’t think anyone ever expected Richard Grayson to adopt a child of his own!”
Dick froze. What? No, he’d worked so hard to ensure that no one would find out—
A picture flashed on screen of Dick and Danny. Dick recognized it immediately; he’d taken Danny out to eat to celebrate Danny officially becoming his foster child. But that was weeks ago! They’d been sitting on the story for that long?
They didn’t even bother to blur Danny’s face. 
“Now, Jack,” the co-host chided, “Let’s not get too hasty. Our source at Bludhaven PD—who will be unnamed to protect their privacy—said it was only a foster, not an adoption.”
Jack waved her concern away. “Yes, a foster. For now. Don’t you remember how long Richard was Brucie’s ward? Sure, the kid might only be a foster for now, but with this family, adoption is always on the table!”
Turning away from the TV, Dick checked their security cameras on his phone. When he’d first moved in, Babs had hacked into all the cameras in the apartment, piggy-backing off their feeds. There, outside the building’s main entrance, were multiple reporters. Some had even gotten into the building, although their aimless wandering told him that their apartment number hadn’t been leaked yet. 
“Still, another street kid in the family,” Jack continued to muse. “That’s two now for the Waynes, right? Are they going to take off with an entire orphanage next?”
“Dick?”
He locked eyes with Danny, who gave the TV a worried look. But Danny didn’t get worried; he was a cocky, grumpy brat who’d given Dick a heart attack when he dared a gang member to shoot him in the face. But a news story scared him?
Smart kid. Dick was feeling scared too. So, he made the executive decision. 
Dick knelt down to Danny’s height, gently grasping his shoulders. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to call out of work—”
“But Mrs. Bennett’s murder!” came the immediate protest. 
Dick took note of the name, but held up a hand to stop him. “I know, I know. But it’s not safe for us to go to the precinct right now.” Someone at BPD had told the reporters about them. One of his colleagues, pissed that he’d gotten his promotion unfairly? Someone who hated that a little kid solved murders better than them? Or anyone looking to make a quick buck? The possibilities were endless. 
He continued, “Commissioner Gonzalez will understand and help us consult with the case from online, okay? We’ll get sent pictures of the crime scene and you can talk to Mrs. Bennett and we’ll consult from Gotham just to be safe.” He had some PTO he could use, right? If not… Gonzalez could just fire him. He’d already known his co-workers were corrupt assholes, but to willingly put a child in danger was a step too far. If Gonzalez wanted to keep Dick—and therefore, Danny—she’d better clean house. 
Danny made a face. “Why Gotham?”
“That’s where my family lives! While we wait for the story to die down, I’ll introduce you to my grandfather, Alfred, and my brother Tim, and my friend, Barbra! I’ll show you around to all the fun spots, it’ll be fun! So go get packed, buddy.”
Hesitating in the doorway, Danny said, “They won’t listen to me. The other officers aren’t like you.”
“They will listen to you. I’ll make them,” Dick promised. He’d gathered enough blackmail on his fellow detectives to force the issue, if needs be. He ruffled Danny’s hair. “Don’t worry, Danny. It’ll just be for a week or two and then everything will be back to normal. I promise.”
Danny glared at him, batting his hand away. “I’ll keep you to that promise, old man.”
As Danny retreated to his room—Dick’s former workout room—to pack, Dick went to his own, closing and locking the door behind him. The call to Gonzalez went about as well as he was expecting: first her anger at him taking time off, then his anger about being sold out to the media, then Gonzalez swearing as she found the news online, until finally agreement. 
As they talked, Dick methodically packed away his Nightwing gear. After last night, where a slime meta had unceremoniously caked his suit in gunk that would not come out, he had two functioning suits: his back-up and his original that he kept for sentimental value. He packed all three, along with his gear. Maybe Alfred would be able to get the gunk out? But he couldn’t leave his things here. Their location was already compromised. If reporters decided the risk was worth it, they could break into his apartment and turn the whole place upside down looking for a story. 
So, Dick had to take the story with him. 
With all his gear packed, there was little room for personal belongings, so he did the best he could and only took the important things. His room at the manor still had a few changes of clothes. Fortunately Danny wasn’t a nosy kid, otherwise he’d never be able to get away with carrying his Nightwing gear in a normal duffel bag like this. 
Now, the hard part. 
The phone rang three times before it was picked up. “Master Richard.” Alfred’s icy tone made him wince. Oh, he already knew. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Hey, Alfie…” Dick rubbed the back of his neck. “I just wanted to say that I decided I can help Bruce on that Red Hood case after all?”
“I see.” No matter how angry Alfred was, he was frighteningly polite. “And shall I prepare a second bedroom for your ward?”
Dick winced. “That would be great, Alfred. Thank you.”
“Then I will see you soon. And please inform the young master that I look forward to meeting him when you both arrive.”
“I’ll tell him. He’s been looking forward to meeting you; I’ve been talking up your cooking for months now.”
“Months?” Oh no. “How kind of you, Master Grayson.” It got worse. Alfred was pissed now. Why did he have to say months? It wasn’t like Dick had intentionally hidden Danny from his family; he was just hiding him from Bruce! He wanted some privacy and to figure things out himself! But now Alfie was mad and suddenly that privacy didn’t seem so important anymore. “Shall I assume you’ll be arriving soon then?”
“In around an hour.” Leaving his room, he checked on Danny. He was trying to back everything he owned into the suitcase Dick had bought him. “Maybe a little longer? I’ll call when we’re ten minutes away.” 
“Then I will see you soon, Master Grayson.”
@starlightcat04 @maeashryver @widderwise @darkstarsapocalypse @sisma @luminanightfall @storm-fire98 @amyheart19 @collectingthegoods @redhoneysugarorange @lordfirecat2004 @screechingnoises @meira-3919 @dannyphannypack @satisfactionbroughtmeback @rowanaway-fromthisbs @i-always-say-yea @avelnfear @some-rotten-nest @ark12 @heirxofxtime @akikkobara @blep-23 @skulld3mort-1fan @markus209 @stargirl1331 @onlyhereforthechaos @inth3world @awkwardmaiden @fantasticbluebirdfan @currant-owo @alice-hazelwood @screamingtofillthevoid @crystalqueertea @gaelicholiday @gmkelz11 @mattybook1987-blog @bytheoldwillowtree @apointlessbox @chemical-pepis @ghostface3100 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @bathildaburp @boo-ghosties @bubblemixer @halfalix @lyra689 @dragon-dancer16 @lunadoll36 @mimilikey @hellomygay @frogs-are-pretty-awesom @overtherose @cyrwrites @your-emo-nightmare @lexdamo @roman4517 @a-slytherinish-gryffindor @raginblastocyst @thegatorsgoose @fisticuffsatapplebees @olivethetreebitch @vixen-uchiha @ae-vixrose @joseph557 @kisatamao @gin2212 @thewondersoflebanon @d4ydr34min9 @malice-of-the-sunrise @tiblii @that-awkward-fae-nerd @aph-mable @dolfay @ghostreblogging @wackyattack @writer-extraordinaire @boo-ghosties @coruscateselene @emergentpanda-blog
429 notes · View notes
lesbi-nyan · 3 months
Text
i might be going homeless soon. not now. but soon. as some of you may know, i've been couch surfing since mid october.
i just called someone i know, and the thing with dogsitting her dogs in exchange for 2 months free housing isnt going to happen, cause she's getting renovations done and she has a friend from out of town visiting.
and now all my eggs are in one basket on this organisation that "prevents queer youths from going homeless," but the first time i visited, they told me i'd be low priority cause I'm "not homeless." so.. i finally have a proper meeting with someone scheduled for the 31st. but im so fucking scared and nervous and idek what im going to do if this doesnt work out. i have one place i can stay for a week, but that's it. all the other places ive stayed i've exhausted cause it's too expensive for them to house me again. and I do not want to return to living with my parents. it won't go well and i'll stuck in the same shit cycle of verbal and emotional abuse.
I'm making minimum wage, my hours are shit, and i'm struggling to find another job. I hate being this pessemistic but it's all falling apart.
Please consider tipping my paypal if you like my lewds and want to help out so i can at least afford groceries ~nya
481 notes · View notes
Text
Yandere Manager
Tumblr media
Managers can teeter on the edge of being the most helpful and supportive authorities in your life or the worst. More often leaning toward the latter, it isn’t bizarre to feel helpless when they put a strain on your paycheck or your general health during and outside the work day. It’s infuriating and downright despairful when they use the power of management to make you miserable. But you can always file a report to HR or the branch head. Sometimes it’ll work but not always. More likely than not there’s more support for them further down the line which makes it even harder to contest. 
“(Y/n) didn’t I tell you to smile when you’re at the front? S-M-I-L-E!”
But there’s something just as alarming about the manager who doesn’t have that. No favor from directors, open to the reprimands of human resources, and even a criminal record to boot. There’s something that compels you to listen when you look for an ounce of sympathy in those amber eyes to find a tempest of unhinged madness. You can only begin to visualize in a fever-driven nightmare. 
That’s your manager. 
The lovely, awful, and disastrous manager that fills you with helplessness like no other. 
Yandere Manager is just so naggy. Not only to you but your coworkers as well because there’s always something to comment on. Even when it’s not insulting or condescending it just rubs everyone the wrong way. 
“The way the uniform looks on you makes it look like we dragged you off the street.”
“....”
“....You’re the one who gave her a uniform that isn’t her size.”
“Yeah, but she’s the one who looks homeless. (Y/n) how about you mind your business and actually do your job. Thanks!” 
Yandere Manager is especially unpredictable in his support of you. Sometimes joining unruly customers when they blame you for something you messed up on. While also defending you over something small that didn’t require anyone’s input let alone his. Situations with entitled customers is a coin toss with him.
“Miss I’ll just remake the drink for you.”
“No no, you don’t have to I just want to know what was used instead of oat milk.”
“Oh okay then it's…Mr. Manager?”
“....YOU!?”
“Me?”
“Oh no.”
“NEVER WALK INTO MY ESTABLISHMENT AGAIN!”
“What why? I didn’t–”
“IF YOU REFUSE TO LEAVE I’LL HAVE TO REMOVE YOU BY FORCE.”
“Ahhh!”
“Wait! You don’t need the crossbow! Put it down!”
“DON’T EVER SPEAK TO MY EMPLOYEE EVER AGAIN!”
You can hardly pinpoint a pattern to his discord even after his honest confession when you catch him rifling through your things. But he won’t explain why he steals your lunch or makes fun of you in front of your coworkers. Or why he slashes your tires and breaks the windows of your home. It gets so bad you’re starting to think he uses this supposed obsession as an excuse for his behavior.
“Will you please explain why you broke into my car…for the fourth time?”
“Hmmm no.”
“...fine don’t. Now get out.”
“No I don’t think I will.”
“I have pepper spray and a tasor.”
“I can handle pepper spray.”
~Kzzt~
“Okay fine, you win this time.”
But despite your suspicions, he’s very much obsessed. Convinced he’s owed your affections he doesn’t mind breaking into your home, invading your personal space, and making light fun-as lovers do. No, his more sporadic actions happen to be something like knee-jerk reactions of his love for you. Similar to cuteness aggression. Because in his mind he’d prefer to break another window of yours than murder the family next door for looking at you too long. 
“This will have to do for now. I mean they can’t pin me for their carelessness when driving into a ditch, right?”
Usually, he doesn’t mind just doing whatever he feels like but since you’ve caught and called the police on him he’s on a tight leash. Not because he’s at all afraid of the police. Not at all. It’s because then he’ll be breaking the hold he has on you. Let me explain.
The minute he did the slightest thing out of line you called the higher-ups who threatened him and assured you he’d be fired. Great. But when he cornered you in your own home with the possibility that this wouldn’t stop when he was fired you had to pause.
“Sure you might get rid of me at work but then you’ll never know where I am. Instead of staying at work with you, I might just be in your room or at your friend’s house, or in your car!”
“T-t-then I’ll call the police on you!”
“After I’ve already left? Well sure they can serve an order and arrest me if I’m too close but when I break out–and trust me I will–you’ll have no idea when or where I’ll be coming from. I’ll be a constant boogeyman over your life if you kick me out now.”
“.....”
“So don’t get me fired, kay?”
Yandere Manager who is only given a warning by his employers and police before you stop attempting to get others involved. As much as you hate to admit it, he’s completely right. For all the times you find him breaking in, already broken in, or stealing something of yours he’s never lied to you. The same can’t be said for others but even when he’s doing something wrong he’ll always be honest with you. 
“Mister Manager? Did you do something to my lunch?”
“No! How dare you accuse me of such a deplorable thing! I should write you up.”
“....(Y/n)?”
“Clyde.”
“What?”
“Did you mess with his food?”
“Yes.”
“Dude are you serious?!” 
Life with Yandere Manager isn’t going to be easy at first but when has it ever been for an employee like yourself? It’s best that you get used to your Manager’s obsession, heck it might help make your grueling shift a little bit better.
432 notes · View notes
deadsetobsessions · 3 months
Text
Jason cursed. This is on par for most of his evenings, as it was rare that he ever got a peaceful night. However, this? This takes the goddamn cake and smashes it on his face.
Red Hood stood, with a portable wet vacuum in his halo bed hands, cursing everything in the world as he cleaned and followed the small puddles of Lazarus water. The people in the streets give him a wide berth, having long learned the intricacies of Red101: if the Red Hood is doing weird shit but there’s no gun in his hand, you make sure you’re not the reason he’ll have a gun in his hand.
“O, you there?”
“Copy.”
“Mark this priority, would you?” His voice is tense, pissed. “Some bastard’s dripping Lazarus water all over my territory.”
A pause.
Oracle’s calm voice flowed through his helmet, “Then we’ll have to watch out for League influence. I’ll let the others know. Red Robin?”
Red Robin chimed in, “Yeah, already on it. It’s weird though, Ra’s isn’t supposed to be here for another two and a half weeks.”
“And how would you know about my grandfather’s movements?”
“Careful, Robin, I might become your grandma!” Red Robin chirped sadistically, before clicking off his comms, snickering at Robin’s spluttering.
“Jesus fuck. I’ll try to hunt down the bastard from the ground. O?”
“Can’t help you. The cameras around your area has been scrambled for the last half an hour.”
“Shit.” Red Hood tensed, one hand going for his pistol as the street’s current inhabitants wisely vacated the area.
“Hood. Don’t go in alone. It could be a trap.”
“Whatever, B, you’re not the boss of me.”
“Give me three minutes. I’m close by. Do not go in without back up, little wing.” Nightwing piped in, and Red Hood could hear the faint whooshing noises of a quiet grapple.
“Cass and I are close by as well. Staking out a place but we could be on standby if needed.”
Two taps. Cass’ tacit agreement.
“Got it.”
When Nightwing gets there, they follow the trail into a dead end with no sign of any scaling of the wall or secret passages.
“Fuck! What the fuck are we chasing, a ghost?”
“Don’t even joke like that-” Nightwing said. “You’ll set Red off again.”
Jason kicked at the wall.
“Fuck!”
——
On the other side of the wall, thirty minutes earlier:
“Life is like a hurricane, here in Duckberg…” Danny mumbled as he stumbled away. He’d saved his alley kids from a pretty serious mugging that ended with a stabbing that Danny foolishly allowed to touch him because he wanted to keep the wicked looking knife. Normally, he’d be able to brush this off, but with his recent injuries, mental stress, and the lack of food that is the hallmark of a homeless teenager, Danny barely kept himself conscious as he stumbled into a particularly dense in ectoplasm dead end.
“Napping place… napping place…” Danny mumbled before eyeing the brick wall. Yeah, okay, he’s slept in weirder places. He could sleep in the dumpster, but… he’d smell and Danny could not handle an infection. So, he went intangible, invisible, and pulled the knife out of his body. As he settled in (quite literally into) the stone wall for his nap, Danny manages to mold his ectoplasm to hold his cut up stomach together.
Danny allows sleep to take him, blissfully unaware of the glowing green puddles of ghost blood he’d left behind.
——
Jason, terrified: he’s in the walls!! He’s in the fucking walls!
Danny, quoting vines and tiktoks while napping in walls for that back support option: thanks for checking in! I’m still a piece of GaRBaGe.
916 notes · View notes
noisilyscreechingsong · 9 months
Text
Baby Formula
Dp x Dc Crossover
Duke was having a slow day when he heard the cry of outrage just across the street. He sees the store owner let go of the little kid he had latched onto and pull his hand close to his chest. The kid picked up the box he dropped and turned quickly to sprint away on tiny legs.
“He bit me!” The man screams as he stares angrily after the boy.
Instead of his training to intercept the thief and return the stolen merchandise, Duke follows his gut feeling and just tails the running boy.
From what he can see, the kid it young, maybe six he guessed (he’s not great with ages that young), with black hair and worn clothes. Homeless most likely, or a run away.
The boy slows down and hides in an alley to check to see if anyone is following. Duke takes this time to jump down in front of him.
Blue, blue eyes snap to him and widen in surprise.
“Hey, kid,” Duke greets casually, still crouched to get closer to his height.
The child shift from foot to foot, obviously debating with himself whether to run or not while eyeing him critically. Not easy to trust. Expected.
“Whatcha got there?”
Little hands grip the box of baby formula closer to his chest reflexively and then hides it behind his back. He shoves the water bottle fuller into the pocket of his too large hoodie.
“Nothin’.”
Duke hums.
“I don’t wanna get you in trouble,” he eases. “I just want to help.”
“I don’t need any help,” the boy denies immediately.
“You might not, but what about your baby sibling?”
The boy tenses and his eyes narrow dangerously. So Duke was right.
“What’s your name, kid?”
“Why should I tell you?” The boy fires back venomously.
Duke shrugs.
“That’s fair. I’m Signal by the way.” No response, not that he was expecting one. “I do need to know that you guys are staying somewhere safe. You’re a really good brother for looking after your baby…”
The boy frowns. “Sister.”
“Your baby sister and getting her formula, but I’m sure you’d also like to be playing instead of stealing. Am I close?”
“I can help take care of Ellie just fine,” the boy defends hotly.
‘Help’. He’s not the only one.
“You can, but you shouldn’t have to. You’re just a kid too. I wanna help make sure you guys are taken care of. Nothing bad will happen if you show me where you guys are staying,” Duke tried to argue calmly.
He hasn’t had much experience with this kind of situation but he needed to make sure they were in a safe place. Child trafficking had gone down after Red Hood made his displeasure known, but it wasn’t nonexistent.
The kid shifts again.
“They’ll split us up if they throw us in foster care. You can’t call CPS. Promise you won’t.”
He didn’t even hesitate.
“I promise I won’t call CPS.”
The boy thrusts his free hand forward with his pinky out.
“Pinky promise,” he insists.
Duke has to lock down the smile that threatens to creep up on him. Professional. He needed to stay professional.
He wraps his gloved pinky around the tiny finger in front of him and reiterates the promise. Greasy, black hair flops as the boy nods sharply in acceptance.
“Okay.”
Duke does smile a bit then. “Okay, lead the way.”
The kid hesitates for a second before shaking his head and huffing. He leads the vigilante through back alleys for quite awhile before they come up to the back of an abandoned building.
The kid turns back to him with his hand on the edge of a piece of plywood blocking the entrance.
Duke couldn’t tell exactly what the boy was thinking, but he knew he was second guessing. However, with the bright glow this kid was giving off that make Duke think he was a meta of some sort, he couldn’t let him walk away.
The boy continues on like he didn’t even pause, pushing the board aside and slipping through the small crack. Duke follows closely behind as they travel through the place that looks like it used to be a restaurant that had burned down. They walk until they make it to the only room with light, a storage room, and find a red headed girl, older than the boy but still young, holding a baby as she boils something on an old burner.
She looks up and freezes when she sees him.
“Don’t freak out,” the boy interrupts.
“Danny,” she says slowly, her teal eyes zeroing in on her little brother. “Why did you bring one of them here?”
‘Danny’ pulls the water and formula forward sheepishly. Her eyes widen.
“Danny,” she says with disapproval.
“Ellie only has one pack left, Jazz, I had to do something.”
“You didn’t have to steal,” Jazz hisses. “Dan will be back with-“
“Yea, well, he forgot last time, so what were we gonna do then, huh?”
Four names. Four kids living in a burned to hell building that he’s surprised is still standing.
The two kids stare each other down until baby Ellie starts squirming and fussing, reaching for Danny. The boy huffs and takes the baby, looking almost comical with how small they both were.
“I wanted to make sure everyone was okay,” Duke said to alleviate the tension in the too small room. “I just want to help.”
“That’s what people say before they call CPS on us and we have to run again,” she glares harshly, standing from the floor. She didn’t even reach his shoulders.
“And I promised I wouldn’t.”
“He pinky promised,” Danny adds in a hushed tone.
Studying the other kids in the room, Duke can see that Ellie was as bright as Danny, just a different color, and Jazz only had a slight glow.
“How old is Dan?” He asks.
Jazz puckers her lips like she sucked on a lemon.
“Old enough,” is her answer.
“Nobody is in trouble,” he reassures.
Neither of the siblings answer for a minute, Danny nervously looking between the vigilante and his sister, and Jazz staring Duke down with narrowed eyes.
“He’s sixteen,” Danny confesses.
Jazz shoots him a scalding look, to which the boy shrugs off with no guilt, but doesn’t deny it.
The oldest isn’t old enough, which was what he was thinking, but it still put him in a weird position. Should he call Bruce? He should definitely call Bruce.
Jason would be so much better at this than Duke. The Alley kids love and trust Red Hood, but this technically wasn’t Crime Alley.
“I want to help,” he says.
Jazz folds her arms over her chest and he doesn’t blame her for her suspicion.
“How?”
Yea, he’s working on that.
“Who the f*ck are you?”
The snarl comes from behind him and he whirls around to see a teen that greatly resembles the boy. This must be Dan, but holy macaroni, he didn’t even hear him come in.
“That’s Signal,” Danny says, passing Ellie back to Jazz who takes her and steps back from the angry teen.
“Yea, I can see that. Why is he here?” Dan growls.
Danny squares his shoulders and lifts his chin.
“I brought him.”
Dan snaps his glare from Duke to the little boy.
“You WHAT?” The shout sounds too large in the small room and Ellie immediately starts crying. “What the hell are you tryin’ to do, you little sh*t?”
“Hey,” Duke says firmly, trying to redirect the anger to himself. “I would have followed him anyway, it’s not his fault.”
It doesn’t work because as soon as the words leave his mouth, he’s rounding on Danny again.
“I told you to stay here,” he points at the small boy who looks equally scared and defiant. “What were you doing out there, idiot?”
“You didn’t get formula last time,” Danny emphasizes the ‘you’ heavily. “So I went out and got some. You’re welcome.”
“You little-“
Duke intercepts the bulky teen when he lunges at Danny trying to grab the front of his shirt. From the way Danny backs up quickly, it’s not the first time.
“Knock it off,” Duke growls at the teen. “He’s a kid.”
“He’s a snot-nosed little brat,” Dan snarls at his brother and then turns his ire onto Duke, pushing the vigilante away with a giant shove. “And I’m guessing you’re gonna turn us over to those corrupt social workers, huh? Well good luck.”
“No,” Duke denies with his hands up. “I don’t want to do that. I promised I wouldn’t.”
“He pinky promised,” Danny insists behind Dan after the teen shifted to stand in front of his siblings.
“Shut up, twerp,” Dan snaps but doesn’t take his eyes off Duke. “Then what do you want, vigilante?”
This situation has escalated.
He lowers his hands to his sides to level with the guy.
“I just want to help,” he states for the umpteenth time calmly.
“Yea? And how you plan to do that?”
Dan has been burned before, Duke could tell. His distrust is valid with what he’s probably experienced in the past, and Duke doesn’t really know how to make the brightly glowing teen calm down and not snap his teeth (fangs? Were those fangs?) at any hand trying to reach out.
“I know a guy,” Duke blurts out. Geez, where was Babs when he needed backup?
“You know a guy,” Dan repeats with healthy doubt.
“He can find you a place to live. A place that isn’t a burnt down pizzeria.”
“You mean a foster home,” Dan glares.
Duke couldn’t really deny that.
“How about I talk to him and maybe we can set up a trial period? How does that sound? He’s got plenty of money and extra rooms to spare. Good food too,” Duke compromises. He hopes it’s enough to sweeten the deal and not set off red flags.
“We have a history with millionaires,” Jazz says with a cautious edge. From the dark look on the boys’ faces he can read it’s not a good kind of history.
“Technically he’s a billionaire,” he couldn’t help but say, “but he’s a good guy. I promise.”
“You’re talking about Bruce Wayne,” the red-head states in realization.
Duke thinks to himself that she would get along great with Barbara and not just because of their similar hair color.
“All I’m asking is that you trust me a little and give him a chance. If it doesn’t work out, he’s found homes for other kids before. He’ll make sure you guys stick together. I know how bad the system is, I get it, just… let me help. Please.”
The others look to Dan, the eldest, to make the decision. He glares hard at Duke, and if he hadn’t stared down actual super villains before, the vigilante might actually be scared.
After several long moments, Jazz speaks up in a hushed tone.
“I think we should try.”
Dan raises his lips in a silent snarl, clearly not liking her opinion, but not outright rejecting it. Danny huddles close to Jazz, gripping her shirt tightly, but looking between Dan’s broad back and Duke only a few feet away hopefully.
“One month,” Dan growls lowly and Duke has to keep the sigh of relief from escaping. “We’ll do this trial period for a month and that’s it. If we want to leave, then we leave and nobody calls the police on us. Got it, Yellowjacket?”
“Got it. I’ll talk to him. Just don’t leave, okay? I’ll come back tomorrow.”
Dan huffs and his eyes shift to the door in silent demand to get the hell out. Duke slowly makes his way over.
“Just don’t take it out on the kid. He was just trying to help,” Duke adds, trying to lessen whatever punishment Dan was going to give Danny after he left.
Dan snarls with, yes those were fangs, “Don’t tell me how to raise my brother.”
Duke lifts his hands to back off and then promptly leaves.
He grapples to the nearest roof and immediately calls Bruce.
“Hey, yea, I’ve got four kids you’re about to take in. You’ve agreed to a month trial because the oldest doesn’t trust the system and they all don’t have a good history with rich people. I’ll have Alfred get their rooms set up, but this is me letting you know. Oh, and one’s a baby so you’ll be paying for all the stuff that comes with that. They’ll be at the manor tomorrow so try to show up. Good talk.”
He left the voicemail as the only method of communication like a true Bat. Next was to actually tell Alfred and hope he doesn’t get the disappointed look, though he doubts he’ll get in trouble for helping out some homeless kids. The biggest obstacle will be Damian, but as long as there is some sort of buffer (i.e. Dick or Duke) it should be fine. Probably.
1K notes · View notes