#but I want someone to break my brain

[spiralingswitch]

Why can't my brain pick if it finds doms or subs hotter? Like, on the one hand, I want to call them a good little girl. On the other hand, I want to be owned and not have a single thought

#why am i like this #Like Subd are so hot #when they break their brains #but I want someone to break my brain

[aq2003]

like the important thing you must keep in mind about ten when you see him do literally anything is that he's soooooooooo so so so bad at actually isolating himself from other people. so TERMINALLY bad at it. he thinks to himself "i don't need human connection because everything i do causes pain and destruction to those around me :(" but then he experiences a crumb of human connection and his heart starts to spill out of his chest

#tenth doctor #dr who #doctor who #yeah i say heart singular cuz he said 'i suppose they break my heart' in the next doctor and i have perma brain damage over it #btw. this is why him and martha in the first half of series 3 are Like That. he trusts her deeply but he also doesn't want to form #another deep emotional connection bc look what happened with rose! right! i think partially the reason why he #has his moments of opening up about his past is because he thinks 'well she isn't going to see me again after this' #'i might as well tell her if she asks. it may even scare her off'. this is INSANE. he is INSANE. and he is so fucking STUPID #fool! you are developing a connection with someone!!!!!!! not pushing them away!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #look at what you are doing to martha's self esteem bro!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #10 era

[starry-bi-sky]

Childhood Friends Danny and Jason: Ch2 Remastered

-------------------------------------------------------------- late at night when the stars don't look quite right -------------------------------------------------------------- there's something burning in the empty room inside of my head fill it up with doubt let it in, let it spread

Jason nearly falls flat on his face when he sees the photo of Danny. He’s in a warehouse, finishing up with a gang selling drugs on his turf. The guys he’s got tied up are cursing up a storm at him, throwing every insult under the sun his way that he’s all heard before. His eyes drag over to them, and silently Jason adjusts his jacket to reveal the guns strapped to his thighs, his hand hovering over the handle of one. 

They all fall silent, and Jason moves his hand away. His phone in his other hand, texting Oracle to alert the police. Jason hates that he has to; these guys will be out of their cells in a matter of months, and nothing will change. 

But he’ll play nice. 

And then his phone buzzes, and when Jason looks down he sees a banner from Tim. A message he planned on ignoring, but his eyes skim over the text on instinct, and suddenly the air is stolen right from his lungs, and his thumb is hitting the screen before he can really think it through.

[Hey Jason, your best friend just appeared in Gotham for the first time since your funeral.]

Impossible. He thinks, yanking his phone close to his nose, as if that will make it any less real or fake. Danny hasn’t been in Gotham in years, Jason checked. But then the image loads, and then he’s staring Danny Fenton in the face. And then he’s greedily tracing every minute, new detail he can find. The gang left half-forgotten in his mind.

Danny’s got an undercut, it looks self-done. It looks good. He looks taller. He’s got piercings in his ears, gold and jewels lining up the sides like a magpie’s find. He’s got an eyebrow piercing. 

Something old, something new; Danny is smiling and it still looks just as Jason remembers it. Crooked, lopsided, warm like the sun and belying the mischief underneath it. He remembers to breathe in that moment, and the sound comes in sharp. Danny’s eyes are as blue as they’ve ever been. 

(“I don’ get why books talk so much about peoples’ eyes.” Danny complains to him one day when he’s visiting the manor, his legs thrown over Jason’s back like an anchor tied to its ship. They’re sunk into the mattress of Jason’s bed, sunlight peering through the windows. “They’re just eyes! I don’t need t’know that they’re ‘as blue as the sky,’ or- or the ocean, or whatever blue thing in the world there is.”) 

(Jason’s smile comes to him like breathing, and he twists around to lay on his back. His arms trap Danny’s legs to his stomach. “Pretty sure it’s jus’ for emphasis on how much they’re noticing the person’s face.”)

(Danny’s face scrunches up, and Jason’s smile splits into a grin, heart swelling three sizes on instinct. “I think it’s stupid, s’just some fuckin’ eyes.”)

(“Eyes are windows to the soul, Dan.” Jason retorts, barking out a laugh when Danny gives him a deadpan look. His hands creep for a pillow, one of the soft downy ones wrapped in silk, and he throws it at Danny’s face. “And besides, speak for yourself! Your eyes are the bluest thing I’ve ever seen.”) 

But most importantly, Danny looks tired. 

Hiding is something that comes free with the purchase of living in Gotham, and Danny’s good at hiding things, he always has, but Jason knows him like the palm of his hands. He looks tired, and Jason wants to reach through the screen and ask him why. There’s an age-worn look there, catching in the flint of his iris, where his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Jason gets the ETA from Oracle, then leaves as fast as his legs can carry him and his grappling hook can zip through the air. He needs to see Danny with his own eyes, to confirm himself that Danny was here, and that it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him. Or that it was Tim playing a cruel joke on him — and if it was, he’ll have to rethink his whole killing thing. 

Gotham’s air is warm and suffocating, but her winds bite at him as he soars through it.

It’s second nature for him to find the west end balcony, and Jason finds himself with his feet locked in place on the building beside it. Grappling hook in hand, and a balloon in his lungs, all swelled up and squishing the air out of him. 

It’s just his luck —with whatever he has left— that Danny is there as well. In the same spot he’s always been, with a cigarette caught between his teeth. He’s stuck halfway, head tilting, eyes closed, with the shadows of Gotham on his back and the light of the gala at his front. 

For a moment, for a fleeting, terrifying moment, Jason thinks Danny’s going to tilt himself back off the side.The thought has him blindly tilting himself forward with his heart in his throat. Hands reaching for his grappling hook, swinging down to drop down beside him.

Danny is staring at him before his feet even hit the ground, face nigh unreadable beyond the small, wary furrow of his brows. Danny’s never looked at him like that before, it feels like  stumbling on the last step of the stairs. 

Then, like fire to black powder something flashes and ignites in Danny’s eyes. Mouth curling, eyes burning, for a moment, just a moment, they’re kids again, getting into fights and turning soft hands punch-rough. Danny looks at Jason like he’s going to tear him to shreds.

Jason’s mouth runs dry like a desert in the summer, but his blood chills in fear cold in his veins. Why are you looking at me like that? His mouth opens, but his tongue is leaden in his throat, and no sound comes out. It’s me. Don’t you recognize me?  

Danny yanks the cigarette from his mouth like it burns him, his free hand gripping onto the railing like it’s the tether to a leash, nails threatening to turn into talons. “Red Hood.” He says, voice low and timbre, smoke dripping from his lips like dragon’s breath.  

Oh.

That’s right. Jason suffocates on his heart as it sinks and soars with relief. Danny doesn’t know it’s him. In his tunnel vision, he forgot that simple, easy fact. It’s not because it’s Jason that he’s angry. It still doesn’t explain, though, why Danny looks at him like he ought to sink his teeth into his throat and rip him open. 

He’s half-distracted by that, and then distracted by the need to drink in the sight of Danny again. A photo is one thing; the real person is another, and with his fear subsiding, Jason rakes his eyes over his best friend and swallows him whole. His eyes are bluer in person, his memory and Tim’s photo doesn’t do them justice, and Danny inherited his dad’s height. He’s gotten so tall. They both have. They both used to be such scrawny kids. 

So distracted is he, that he forgets to respond to Danny, to say anything. Not until Danny tries to dismiss himself, and Jason kickstarts into gear. White hot panic fills in his lungs, burning him up like magma. No, no, no, he’s moving without thinking, always when he’s with him, and he nearly latches onto Danny. Nearly wraps his hands around his arm to hold him in place. Don’t leave. You’re finally here; don’t go. 

Danny stays, but he stares at Jason’s reaching hands like he’ll bite them off, stares at Jason with his eyes burning, watchful. Jason’s excuse is lousy and he knows it, but he wants, wants, wants to stay and figure out every new thing about Danny. 

And he feels like he’s losing something. Time bleeds together beside him and Jason feels trapped behind a glass wall of his own making. Something old, something new. The distance of which Danny keeps him at is foreign to him. He hates it. 

Tell me everything, he thinks, because he can’t find the words to say it. He hands Danny a cigarette instead, and hopes that it’s enough. Tell me everything and more, tell me what I’ve missed. 

In the end, he still feels like he’s losing something, but he also feels like he’s missing something. Answers that are water, and that water is slipping through his fingers. Danny leaves him with more questions than answers; something that’s never happened before, and Jason watches him walk back inside with a spinning mind. 

What do you mean you spoke to my ghost?

I told you that the Joker killed me?

Have I told you anything else? Have I already told you everything I’ve wanted to?

What happened while I was gone? 

Is that why you’re scarred?

Because Jason isn’t blind, he’s never been. Not in Crime Alley, not as Robin, not now. And not when it comes to his best friend. He sees the silver lightning scars ripped jagged up Danny’s arm, sees that they disappear under his sleeves. He saw, faded as they were, invisible until the light hit right, as they spread like tree roots up his throat and across the side of his face.

Scars that Danny’s never had before. Scars he didn’t have when Jason was alive the first time. Scars he didn’t have the last time Jason saw him. Or — what he remembers to be the last time he saw him, because apparently he saw him as a ghost. He sees the curve of his ears and how they point more than a human’s should, he saw the glint of his canines, sharper than they should be; sharper than he remembers. Metaphorical fangs turned real.   

Jason should’ve asked where he got them from, should’ve taken Danny by the front of his collar and stopped him from leaving. Who did this to you? He should have said, a fire burning in his chest and wrapping around his throat, pulling his voice into a snarl. He should have said, his guns weighing heavy on his sides; Who did it. I’ll take care of it. Just tell me who. Tell me everything. 

Instead, something crawled into his mouth and died, and his tongue is glued to the roof of it. And he doesn’t say anything, because saying something means telling his best friend who he is. It means having to take off his helmet and mask. It means telling his best friend that he’s alive, that he has been. That despite being two halves of a whole, Jason spent five years letting him think he was dead. 

He can’t tell him, not when he’s in too deep already. Not when Jason is so unrecognizable to who he used to be that if he told him, Danny would hate him.

And Danny is still grieving him. So plain as day mourning, still angry over his death. Angry enough that he wants the Joker dead, angry enough that he wants to hang the noose and kick the chair out himself. 

Jason wishes he told him that he looks tired. 

Instead he’s standing alone on the balcony, trying to get his thoughts in order as music blares muffled through the gold-light door. He’s left staring at the crushed cigarette laying on the ground, Gotham’s ambience at his back and a poem hanging in the air that he has no words for. It’s already there. Like stars on a painted ceiling.

And there are so many questions he needs answers for. 

Like his ghost. His ghost.

What did Danny mean by his ghost? 

Does he really want to kill the Joker himself? Was it just the grief talking? Jason knows — or thinks he knows — Danny like the palm of his hands. He’s been through everything with him, he’s seen him say something and then immediately follow through with it. He knows when he’s being serious, he knows when he’s not. 

Danny wants to kill the Joker. Stealing is one thing; murder is another. And Danny wore a look on his face that looked like he meant it when he told Red Hood that he wanted to kill Joker. But saying and doing are two different things. Jason doesn’t know what to think.  

Something old, something new. Danny is still the same, and yet he’s changed so much. 

What did Danny mean by his ghost? 

Jason doesn’t ever remember being a ghost. But Danny knows the Joker killed him. He knows how he killed him. Danny’s parents are ghost scientists, and Jason remembers the letter he got one day telling him about the portal they were building in the basement. 

He remembers thinking about telling Bruce — this was something beyond the glowing green samples stored in the fridge, giving life to the food inside. This was beyond the weapons, the inventions they made that only saw the light of day when the Drs. Fenton brought them up to showcase them.

And he didn’t, because if he hadn’t told Bruce about everything before, he wasn’t going to start. He admits, it was part fear that Bruce might intervene and prevent him from seeing Danny that he didn’t.  

Neither of them had expected it to work — but it sounds like it did. 

(Jason has avoided Amity Park for a reason. He knows he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from going there if he didn’t. But now, he just might have to look into it. He’s missed too much.) 

And Danny wants to kill the Joker, and Jason isn’t sure if he means it or not. Because the look on his face when he said it is oh-so familiar. It’s the one he wore when he needed Jason to distract the clerk while he snuck behind the counter to steal cigarettes from the shelves. It was the one he wore when an older kid cornered them near one of Gotham’s many alleys, threatening them over something Jason can no longer remember clearly. 

(He remembers puffing himself up, rearing for a fight. Danny, with glass in his teeth and blood between his fingers, lands a square kick to the spot between the kid’s legs. His knees hit the ground, and Danny’s hand found Jason’s to drag them both out of there.)

It’s the look of a boy, Gotham-touched grime in his soul, soft fingers turned calloused and scarred, about to do something he’s not going to regret. It’s the look of a boy that has set his mind to something and is going to do it. Some might call it the eyes of a cornered animal, but Danny’s never been cornered, not when Jason’s been with him. 

(But Jason hasn’t been with him. Not for the last five years. So can he really say it wasn’t the eyes of a cornered animal?...Yes.) 

Jason gets off the balcony before he can be seen, and he shouldn’t, but he loiters. He should get back to patrol, the night is never over. Not in Gotham. But he stays, hidden atop the roof nearby.

—---------------

An hour later, Danny walks out the doors with a man Jason recognizes as Vlad Masters — another new mystery for him to uncover. The paparazzi have long since left. Gotham’s nights are dangerous and everyone knows that, not even the vultures would stick around for a scoop, not unless there was something worth seeing. 

A black limousine pulls up beside them, and Masters walks around the back to reach the other side. He’s bristled like an angry cat. “I thought I told you not to embarrass me.” He hisses, eyes snake-narrowed.

Danny, for the most part, just looks unbothered, his hands shoved into his pockets without a care. But he narrows his eyes right back, an expression made of stone. “You have a pretty low bar for what you think is embarrassing.” 

Masters just scowls, “I don’t understand you, I would have thought you’d spend the whole time mingling with the Waynes, badger.” He says. Danny ruffles at the nickname, lips curling into a snarl. Jason finds himself unconsciously mimicking him. “And yet, I find you sequestered away in the corner like a little fly on the wall. Were they not up to your standards?”  

‘Sequestered’ Danny mouths mockingly, eyes burning like he was going to claw his hand down Masters’ face. Instead, his hands dig into his arms. “I did talk to them, that’s more than I can say for you. You couldn’t even keep Mister Wayne’s attention for more than a minute.”  

Jason frowns, and Masters scoffs, puffing up like an owl with its ego bruised. “Regardless, I am not the one losing here. Or did you forget what you promised me?” 

Jason’s frown deepens. Danny doesn’t promise anything. At least, he doesn’t promise with just anyone. He deals; he repays; he indebts. But he does not promise. Promises were power, with only one side benefiting. It was trust to promise someone something. Danny doesn’t trust easily, neither of them do.

Something that hasn’t changed. Danny rears up angrily, mouth twisting, teeth baring, snarling out a fury sound. A wire cut live and sparking. He grabs the door handle and yanks it open harshly. “I didn’t promise you anything, Vlad.” He hisses, Jason strains to hear him. “I offered and you agreed. Do not fucking twist my words.” 

There it is. Jason should’ve known better, guilt string-plucking in his chest for his doubt. Danny doesn’t promise things; not to people like this Masters guy, at least. 

Danny grabs something from the car and throws himself back. “Don’t wait up.” He snarls, a wild thing just as Jason is, and yanks on a red hoodie over his arms. It zips up, and hangs off him, smothering the vest and button-up beneath. “I’ll meet you back at the hotel.” 

Then he slams the door shut, shoulders hunched and with a scowl carved into his face. They’re both made of broken glass; independence — disobedience — and rebellion cut into them from every broken beer bottle shattered on the streets.

(Jason makes a mental note to look into Vlad Masters — Danny’s never told him about him, so they must have met after he died. The man leaves a rot in Jason’s mouth, and there is a greed festering inside him that Jason knows has left him in decay.)

(He doesn’t like how close Masters acts with him, doesn’t like the affiliations between them both. Masters reminds him of Luthor and every other rich socialite with their hands in something dirty. He hates even more that Danny is making deals with him. What has he missed?)  

Jason follows after Danny, partially concerned that Danny is wandering Gotham alone. Regardless of what he can do, Gotham is still dangerous. It is bone-rotting, lung-choking and unforgiving. Danny knows this, Jason knows he does. He’s partially curious to know just where he’s going, and whether or not it was important enough to visit in the dead of Gotham’s bloody nights.

Danny surprises him — slipping between alleyways, sticking close to the shadows. Someone taught him how to be stealthy — or, at least, refined what stealth Danny already had. More new things that Jason needs to learn. More things he will never get to know. 

Who taught you that? 

Just what, exactly, have I missed?

I want to know everything. 

Five years is a long, long time to be away from someone. If a caterpillar can become a butterfly in two weeks, then what can five years do to a human? It’s a long time to change, to become something else entirely. Jason’s become someone new, and he thinks, so has Danny. 

Dread pools in his ribs, into his lungs, and weighs heavy on his heartstrings. The urge to drop down in front of Danny, to grab him by the arms and ask him to tell him everything, returns with a vengeance. This is why he avoided Amity Park. 

Will I still know you like I used to? Jason trails behind Danny from the rooftops, like a ghost. Do you still love the stars? Do you still take tea over coffee? Will you tell me, if I ask? 

And if he doesn’t? If he doesn’t ask, like he isn’t right now? 

If he doesn’t ask about his ghost — something that still boggles his mind, because it means the Fentons were right and that portal might have worked, and Danny found Jason’s ghost? If he doesn’t ask what his ghost told him, if he told him anything else? Did his ghost tell you that he was Robin, like he always wanted to?  

He will just have to keep his questions to himself. He will just have to tuck them into a folder in his mind, and file it under all of his other regrets.  

He feels like he’s Robin again; keeping secrets and hiding things from his best friend because it simply wasn’t safe enough for him to know. It’s maddening.  

Why has nothing changed since he died? Why has nothing changed, now that he was alive?

—---------------

Danny leads him to the Gotham Cemetery. Jason freezes outside the gates. Oh, he thinks.

Oh.

He thinks back to what he thought earlier. 

What could possibly be so important that he’d go to it in the dead of Gotham’s night? The cemetery. Of course. Something old, something new, something bittersweet sets over his tongue that he swallows down. 

Jason forces himself to follow. 

“Hey.” Danny says as Jason settles behind a tree, voice gentle in foreign familiarity. He’s standing at Jason’s grave, his hands shoved into his pockets. The light is low but it doesn’t stop Jason from seeing the starlight-soft look in Danny’s eyes and his half-tilted smile, the smile that Jason is more familiar with than the wary scowls. “Sorry I’m late.”

Guiltish misery wraps its hands around Jason’s lungs. Pin-prickingly, stabbing at his heartstrings, Jason’s mouth moves on its own; “It’s okay.” but no sound comes out. Danny doesn’t hear him, and neither does Jason himself.  

Danny sits down before Jason’s tombstone, groaning low and tiredly as his legs fold beneath him. He’s older than Jason, and immediately his mind switches over to all the jokes he used to lob him with. 

(“Need help crossing the street, old man?” Jason, eight years old, asks with a grin so wide and painful across his face; giggles in his chest. He hooks his elbow with Danny, and keeps him tight against his ribs. “You’ll need all the help you can get in your ancient age.”)

(“I’m not that old.” Danny says, glaring at him before they scurry across the street with the light still green. Traffic laws are a joke in Crime Alley, it’s like a game of frogger as the sound of honking horns and screeching tires follows their heels. “We’re six months apart!”)

(“Six months and four days, actually.” Jason corrects when they reach the other side, snickering as they race down the sidewalk. Drivers lean out their windows and curse them out as they get away, Danny dodges an empty soda can thrown at his head. “Can’t forget the four days.”)

“I would’ve come sooner.” Danny tells him, pulling him from child-fuzzy memories and back into reality. Jason peers around the tree to see him running a hand through his hair, head ducked down. His palm splaying against his neck. “Sorry I didn’t. I got scared.” 

Scared? Jason blinks, he leans against the bark and bumps his helmet against the wood. The thunk is loud in his ears, but Danny makes no indication that he heard. Of what? 

But Danny doesn’t say what, he drops his hand and glances off to the side. He sits like a man who isn’t quite sure what to do, his mouth pressed into a thin line, his eyes scrunched. Grief carves into the lines of his face like a sculptor carving into marble. 

“I was gonna get you flowers on my way here.” Danny continues. His voice cracks, begins to wobble, and Jason sees Danny’s jaw tighten and his eyes close for a moment. When they open, there’s a wobbling sheen on his bottom lashes; tears threatening to bleed.   

Danny flicks at the tears with the nail of his thumb, it does nothing. It just makes his breath hitch. “Um, but they- uh, didn’t have any open on the way here.” He says, giving Jason’s grave a tremulous smile. “Sorry, I’ll make sure to pick some up on my next visit.”   

Next visit. Jason’s heart squeezes uncomfortably, before he reels at the words. Danny’s going to be visiting again, after five years of being out of Gotham? Next visit, why are you visiting again? Was this the reason he came to Bruce’s little charity ball with Vlad Masters? So that he could come visit Jason’s grave?

It couldn’t have been. There are other ways to get to Gotham that don’t require making deals with shady rich men. Danny’s smart, smarter than Danny himself gives him credit for. He’s brilliant. Why did he need Masters’ help to get him to Gotham?

There had to be another reason why.

God, there were so many questions that Jason wants the answers to. He’ll find them, one way or another. 

But, he focuses in again. Danny is only here for the night. One night, and he doesn’t know when he’ll be back again. Jason wants to commit every detail of his best friend to memory before he leaves. 

“You like zinnias, right?” Danny pets the grass at his side absently, and yes. Yes, Jason does, and Danny remembers. Even five years from his death, he remembers. Of course he does. 

“Yeah, you do. You used to pick the petals up off the sidewalk from those uh, fuck — the vendors. The Victorian flower language too, I think. Got a book on that somewhere. I’ll get you red an’ yellow ones.” 

Grief traps in Jason’s chest, and he barely tamps down the bitter laugh forcing itself out of the chokehold of his throat. You fucking sap, you big fuckin’ sap.

Red zinnias. Steadfast beating of the heart. The irony. It’s got double the meaning now, now that he’s alive. But Danny doesn’t know that, so the heart that’s beating could only belong to him. But even with Jason alive, he’s hiding. Between the both of them, the only one here with a beating heart is Danny.

(Between the two of them, the only heart here is one that's made between the two of them.)

Yellow zinnias. Daily remembrance. Of course. That doesn’t need any explanation, the writing is right there on the wall. Raised, so that even the blind may read it. It doesn’t need to be said what that means, Jason can hear it on the wind, in the grass, in the trees. His heart crumpling like a rag being twisted out to drain the dirty water soaking in it. 

I miss you.

I miss you. 

I miss you. 

I’m right here. Is what Jason wants to say. It’s what he should say. He should step out from behind the tree; should speak up and say something. To announce his presence. To do something to let Danny know that he’s speaking to someone who is more than a ghost (who feels like one anyways) and a corpse in the ground. 

Here I am. Here I am. HERE I AM.

His feet are gravebound to the dirt, his tongue cut out of his mouth and shoved into a jar. He feels, in some way, like he’s clawing out of his own grave again, but the dirt keeps falling and his arms are burning. His lungs are filled with more soil than air. He’s not getting out. 

Shame burns cigarette smoke in the back of his throat, shriveling up what little remains of his tar-filled heart. It should be his lungs, and it’s got that too. His feet are grave-bound to the floor.

Danny’s begun to cry, much to Jason’s horror. It should be more incentive for Jason to step out. He doesn’t. His best friend sniffles and scrubs at his face, soaking tears into his hoodie’s sleeve. “I’m sorry for not visitin’ sooner,” he says, voice spiraling with grief, “I don’t have an excuse. I should’ve come sooner. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Don’t be, Jason thinks. Finds himself surprised by the truth of it. He should be upset. Five years and not a single visit. He abandoned him like everyone else. Except he didn’t. 

He’s not upset, he can’t be. Not when Danny’s finally here. Not when he’s still crying over him five years after the fact. Not when he’s going to put flowers on his grave that means he thinks of him daily. Not when Danny knows who killed him and wants him dead. 

Jason isn’t sure of what to think of that still. He wants Bruce to kill the Joker. More importantly he wants change in Gotham. He wants something to be done. He doesn’t know if Danny is being honest or not — and honesty doesn’t mean anything if someone doesn’t act on it.  

Danny continues talking to his grave, his voice full with sorrow. He talks about the gala, about running into Bruce and talking to him again. 

Jason listens in dutiful silence, soaking in Danny’s voice like a sponge. This is what he was expecting on the balcony; this easy conversation. Except it’s not a conversation, Danny is talking and not expecting a response. Jason feels like a stranger imposing on his own grave.He should slink away, let Danny have his peace on his own.

He refuses to move. He can’t bring himself to.

If he closes his eyes, he can pretend that he's sitting in front of him. He can pretend he’s thirteen again, with him and Danny crawled under the bed at the manor and trading all the stories they couldn’t fit in their letters. Danny tells him about another fight he had with Dash Baxter, eyes rolling but smug teeth flashing in a stifled smile. Then he tells him about something Sam and Tucker did; about one of Sam’s protests she led against the biology lab, and Tucker coding his PDA to play Doom. Easy, stupid middle schooler shit.

They’d sneak out to the balcony for their vices, Danny clutching a carton of cheap cigarettes in hand. Alfred always finds the ones Jason hides, so they usually share whenever Danny comes to visit. Jason tells him about Gotham Academy, about the people there and the classes. Prep school is another beast entirely, he likes seeing Danny’s reactions to the politics that goes on inside. 

Or, further back, they’re eight again, climbing a rickety fire escape to the rooftop and hanging their feet over the edge to find Batman and Robin. Danny was in the lead before he left for Amity Park. Jason remembers it clearly; they’d spent all night outside on that rooftop. 

Jason doesn’t close his eyes.

Jazz decided to change career goals; psychology’s become more of a hobby for her, and she’s going to go to med school instead. She’s thinking of doing an internship in Metropolis. Danny says he’s glad that it’s not Gotham, and when he told Jazz this, she laughed at him and told him that she was going to save that for later. 

She’s Gotham-touched too, she knows it’s blood just as much as Danny does. She wants to help the people there, but knows what Gotham’s like. She knows what she can and cannot do. Determination doesn’t equate skill, it just means the willingness to learn. 

Sam is staying in Amity Park and doing online classes for college, but Tucker got a full ride scholarship in software engineering. Danny’s thick with pride as he tells Jason’s headstone. Jason’s happy for him — they weren’t close, not like he and Danny were, but they were still friends. 

Jason soaks it all in; tell him more. He wants to know everything. 

"I don't know what I want to do." Danny says when he’s finally done talking about everyone else, his chin laying on his knees. “S’not like I can be an astronaut anymore, but there’s not anything I can see myself doing.”

The corner of his mouth coils, sardonic. “I’ve had five years to come up with somethin’ new, and I’ve come up with nothin’ at all.” He huffs. It’s a rough, bitter sound. Gotham has been steadily seeping back into his voice since he arrived in the graveyard, and now it comes out thick, like it never left. 

Danny’s face falls slack, like a puppet losing its strings, and he sinks into himself. “I guess I…” He exhales slow. “I’ve just been distracted.” A faraway glaze eclipses his eyes, and before they close, tears begin to bleed onto his eyelids. Again, grief mars the lines of his skin, settling into the curve of his mouth and threading between his brows like second nature.

Fuck, it’d be so easy for Jason to just step out. Move. His best friend is grieving. He could save him the pain of it and tell him now. Move, move, move. 

He doesn’t move.

For a while, there’s nothing but silence, just Jason hiding in his shame; a rat on the street would be bolder than him. Danny’s eyes don’t open. Eventually, his head tilts and slumps into his knees, Jason almost thinks, somehow, that he’s fallen asleep — but Danny’s hand threads into the hair on the back of his head, his finger beginning to tap an invisible beat into his skull. 

It’s the perfect opportunity for him to slip away. Danny’s distracted; lost in his thoughts. He won’t notice if Jason slinks off now. He could go and hide away on a roof nearby, ensuring that Danny gets his rightful privacy without leaving him to the teeth of the streets.  

Jason still doesn’t move. 

Danny begins to hum. It’s a low, breathy sound, and it shakes unevenly. There’s no discernible melody, but a breeze picks it up and travels it through the air anyway, rooting Jason to his spot. His throat swells, and his back sinks into the bark behind him. 

For a full minute, maybe two, Danny just hums. It’s a simple tune, but it fills the graveyard with the sound. When it goes up, he sharpens, when he goes down again, it flats, and sometimes it wobbles.  

When he lifts his head, when he finally opens his eyes, he’s still humming. Soon it dies down, and the next time Danny exhales, it comes out tumultuous and slow. His hand slips heavy from his head and drops into the grass. 

“Where’d you go, Jay?” Danny mutters, and despite his voice coming flat, he still sounds so tired. Danny’s eyes flick up, lifting off the grass to burn into the headstone. He’s not even looking at him, and yet Jason still freezes up, he still feels pinned under the weight of his stare. “I know you’re still out there, somewhere. I know it.” 

Jason breathes in shakily, a sting deep in the back of his throat. He gives no answer; guilt is an animal with claws, and it burrows deep into Jason’s heart to make itself a home between the tendons. He’s right here. 

Silence falls over them again, and this time it’s only the sound of the city around them that bleeds into the air. Danny stares at Jason’s grave, staring like he’s expecting an answer. He doesn’t get one. 

Danny sighs out low, and stands. His knees tremble slightly, and he rubs his sleeve into his eyes, catching the stray tears falling from his lashes. Like breaking a spell, Jason jolts from the fog of sorrow hanging in the air. 

“I’ll see you later, an’ I’ll make sure to bring you those flowers you like.” He tells him, and miraculously, a shadow of a smile flits over Danny’s mouth. “Y’better be here when I get back, alright? I’ll kick y’fucking ass if you’re not.” 

Jason bites back a huff, his mouth upturning in a wobble. I will, he thinks, and watches Danny trail out of the graveyard with his hands in his pockets. He waits until he’s disappeared behind the gate before following.   

Guilt is a thing with claws, and Jason leaves the cemetery with it eating his tongue. But he makes sure Danny gets back to his hotel safe before he slinks back to Crime Alley; he might not be a ghost anymore, but he can still trail behind Danny like he is. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ayy i finally got chapter 2 of CFAU/TMWS edited/redone! It had to get rewritten because a lot of stuff became obsolete in the wake of the new chapter 1. and also it just kinda. fucking sucked imo lmao

(you can also read it here on my ao3!)

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #cw swearing #dpxdc crossover #childhood friends au #cfau #dead on main #dp x dc fanfic #dpxdc fanfic #dpdc #banshee danny fenton #got to let jason be Slightly More Unhinged about Danny in this version which i had fun with. i love writing unhealthy attachments it just #adds a little spice ✨ im like an evil scientist marveling over their unethical creation. someone call me olivia octavia #fun fact that i learned recently: jazz also wanted to be also be an accountant or a brain surgeon! so she's getting a little break from #being the Therapist Friend. :] #jason @ danny: whose hurt you. tell me i'll kill them. talk to me tell me everything. don't leave my side please. #danny would be pr similar if he knew red hood was jason :P. uhh. after the initial shock wore off.

[findmeabowlofundertale]

Why did I make this

#someone ate the last sprinkle donut in the break room probably #seeker draws #gaster #⁂ gaster #seeker gaster #WHY THIS #WHY NOT SOMETHING I ACTUALLY WANTED TO WORK ON #my brain and hand do whatever they want I’m just along for the ride #*sigh* #⁂ memes #this isn’t even in character #(unless he’s really REALLY tired) #but i mean having kids is exhausting on its own so maybe that’s why #finally got to actually use the real aster font

[girlmetalsonic]

something that is like the baseline of amys entire character to me is that shes lonely. shes clingy and physically affectionate in a way none of her friends really are, shes always getting pushed aside and left behind. yeah, she helps out people she doesnt know because shes a nice person, but also, she sees part of herself in them. she wont leave someone else behind because she knows the feeling —and more importantly, hates the feeling. if she doesnt have somebody to stand by her and be there for her, then shes going to be that person for everybody else. something something her obsession with sonic is really just like a manifestation of that desire for closeness with someone, and she thinks that romance is the only way to get that. idk... this hedgehog can have so many abandonment issues.

#me posts #amy rose #sth #sonic the hedgehog #and this is not to say at all that romance is the only way to have 'real' love or anything #just that yknow part of her breaking free of that would also be realizing that she just wants closeness with someone and it doesnt- #-have to be romantic #aroace amy could fit this i suppose and she just doesnt know it yknow. thats not my hc but i support their beliefs if that makes sense #she wants to be loved and she wants to love and she doesnt really get a big outlet for that so she shares it with everyone she sees #also i didnt wanna jam up the post but GAMMA!! this is partially abt gamma she helps him find out how to love and how to find joy in it- #-bc its what she wants for herself. she sees him and sees how completely alone he is and she wants to help him. idk idk something something #-when she was locked in the cell she saw part of herself staring back at her #gamma parallels to amy is SLEPT ON i stg i could make a whole other post about it #idk.. whenever im writing amy or just thinking abt how shed interact with others its always from the lens that she craves closeness with- #-others. she wants people to just stay for once. #does this make any sense. idk man im rambling here #my worst nightmare is characterizing her wrong its such a fine line and sometimes the words do not come out of my brain right #btw this is NOT me dissing amy i love amy. she is like top three favorite character. #important context: im typing this with amy firefox theme rn ok. ok im an amy fan. #she points at the minimize button like shes telling me to log off #jesus christ i just scrolled back up i love to put a whole other post in the notes dont i

[puppyeared]

ive made myself more wet and pathetic

#new icon because im SUFFERING. im in HELL #its so bad. i had to sign out of discord so now im both lonely and stressed #because i KNOW im still gonna get dstracted. i just did making this URGH #how good are brains at working around things. i once set a 7AM alarm on my phone with snooze cause i was so sure my brain would #be too lazy and keep snoozing instead of actually turning it off. but nay it either kept sleeping through the alarms and snoozing #or actually managed to turn off the alarm half awake that i barely remembered it and then waking up late #i actually have a track record of climbing out of bed and turning my alarm off without remembering. which is impressive bc i have a loftbed #the other thing is setting fake deadlines so make myself panic into doing things ahead of time. but unfortunately that doesnt work either #because if theres one thing my brain will put all its energy into remembering its self assurance. meaning i WILL be able to remember #the real deadline even if i try to trick myself. cant ask someone to give me a fake deadline either #the only things keeping me going rn is that i have deadlines due at least 1 day between each other and excitement being able to talk with #crow after break. but you can see how well thats going <- ignores long term rewards in favor of short term pleasure #BTW CROW IF YOURE READING THIS IM SO SORRY TURNING OFF MY DISCORD WITH BARELY ANY EXPLANATION #im a huge fucking dumbass and i had barely enough impulse control not to block everyone in my dms because i realized that would send a real #really bad msg. youre not distracting me im distracting myself and i promise youre not annoying me i just really like talking to you and #thats why im just barely stopping myself from signing in. I WANT TO TALK TO U LOTS BUT AT THE SAME TIME IM KICKING MYSELF FOR DOING IT #you can be a little mad at me btw cause i definitely could have done that better but i was all over the place abt how to do it without #making u think im ignoring you. IF THAT MAKES SENSE. SORRY #yapping #doodles #puppysona #edit but last week i tried to schedule and give myself work periods and break periods using my class schedule #and reminders on my phone to tell me when to start and stop. can you guess what happened

[bleue-flora]

Ok sooo, I can’t stop thinking about the line from this post [here] by @swordfright , “Sam is a builder and dream is the ultimate engineering project: challenging (psychologically taxing to guard), important (to the stability of the server), rewarding (on those sporadic occasions when dream obeys him without question), and ceaseless (because the ideal prisoner always needs a warden to keep them in line.)” Because the idea that Dream is Sam’s “ultimate engineering project” really got me thinking about the definition of the duties of an engineer as per the Code of Ethics, which I studied in college.

As an engineer it is basically our responsibility to maintain sustainable development, which The National Society of Professional Engineers (NSPE) defines [here] in the Code of Ethics as, “meeting human needs for natural resources, industrial products, energy, food, transportation, shelter, and effective waste management while conserving and protecting environmental quality and the natural resource base essential for future development.” Even further, as a civil engineer (which I am and Sam is as a primary builder) it is our job to help provide the infrastructure and necessities to life, (shelter, water and by extension food +) with civil engineering encompassing the engineering fields of Structural (bridges, buildings, dams… etc), Utilities (power, gas, water, waste water… etc), Geotechnical (analyze and maintain that the ground can support projects), Environmental (protecting the stability of the environment like for example protecting the habitat of an endangered species), Transportation (roads for cars, train tracks, airplane runways… etc). Pretty much the necessities of civilization (lol hence civil). And I found this interesting because it is Sam’s job as the warden to provide the fundamental and basic necessities of Dream’s life in every way. So, in this way Dream would actually be the society Sam’s engineering is meant to benefit from and depends on (which he obviously denies and uses to abuse.)

But on the other side, interestingly a 2004 definition, [found here] of civil engineering based on Thomas Tredgold’s 1828 original is, “the art of working with the great sources of power in nature for the use and benefit of society”. And oh, the use of power here could very well be a good representation of Dream, making him actually the engineering project. Further, The NSPE Code of Ethics states, “Engineering has a direct and vital impact on the quality of life for all people. Accordingly, the services provided by engineers require honesty, impartiality, fairness, and equity, and must be dedicated to the protection of the public health, safety, and welfare.” In this sense, Sam’s position as the warden was dedicated to the protection of the public health, safety, and welfare, which by keeping Dream locked up, weakening him physically and mentally he was in essence trying to protect the server as well as working to strip the sources of power Dream had over everyone. And when his methods didn’t work, he let Quackity in, which funnily enough goes along with one of the The Institute of Industrial and Systems Engineers (IISS)’s summarizing stated [here] fundamental canons, “Engineers shall perform services only in the areas of their competence.” And clearly Sam was not competent in getting the book from Dream, so he teams up with Quackity, his contractor, to finish the project as is typical in the engineering industry.

All this to say, that Sam as an engineer, while not sworn to follow a defined of code ethics still followed the general defined duties of engineering and strived to work for the betterment of the server. A personality and behavior, that Dream saw in him as they grew as friends and worked to build the prison - Sam’s passion for helping, to provide for and develop the necessities of society. His passion for wanting to use his skills to improve the world and help people. His strong principles of dependability, efficiency, justice, work ethic. If Sam was given a job to help people he was going to see it through to the best of his ability. He would not abandon his post, he would protect and serve the common good. - His strong engineering attitude made him a good choice in Dream’s mind for the warden, because of these qualities, which makes sense. What Dream did not realize is that he was not included in the society and all people Sam felt obligated to serve and provide for.

Instead, Dream was but a resource of power - the revival book - needing to be made efficient and accessible, so that everyone could benefit and share that power. Dream thought he’d be provided for and taken care of, but he was the project instead. Sam’s “ultimate engineering project” he deemed too damaged like a bumpy road or crumbling building that wasn’t worthy of patching and filling in the cracks or reinforcing, that’s too eroded to be fixed and preserved. So, Sam strived to tear him down to the bedrock so he could remake, remold, and reengineer Dream according to his design for the common safety, public health and well-fair. He was such a good engineer just like Dream knew he would be, he just forgot the whole teeny weeny ethics part of being an engineer that kind of comes with the job description… Oh well. ;)

#poor dream depending on his engineer to keep him safe and being let down in the biggest of ways #he ran from a war to a building and trusted it to keep him safe but it collapsed instead destroying him….. #did I make sense…. I’m not sure I got my thoughts across.. #hmm oh well words are hard sometimes… #c!dream #dsmp #dreblr #dream smp #pandora's vault #dsmp analysis #c!sam #c!sam and c!dream #this is fine #did someone order an essay? #welll… blame swordfright for giving me brain rot… lol XD #pandora’s vault has a singular purpose #probably gave you way more engineering info than you wanted but… of well lol <3 :) #oh sam… never ceases to break my heart… #sam the most unethical engineer and he didn’t even steal more from the government #or bribe or cut corners he just straight up neglected the fact that all people includes all people…

[skunkes]

unsure how to word this but there is something about having ocs with unsavory events happening in their past where it's like. talking about it, even when asked, seems almost gratuitous and inappropriate. and i'd much rather describe it through the oc themself and/or draw Them saying it. which is like. fitting for the subject matter? like of course its weird to talk about somebody else's business...!

and falls back into humanizing em/exploratory writing and development where u consider the impact of words said/words unsaid/HOW those words are said etc etc

#because not all real persons would give u every detail of their trauma obviously #which makes sense but im an overexplainer but also it feels inappropriate to overexplain when it comes to dis #i hope that makes sense #talkys #i once described what went down with al as just directly as possible and it still felt weird. ykwim?? idk why. #well i do know why! i dont want it to seem gratuitous or like That Cheap Writing Element. fine line #same with talon so he'll just keep implying it thru text + dialogue which is how it should be ! #the only difference is i think with al i wrote it like he would've said it bc he has more access to that side of himself #and is aware of how it affected him #whereas characterwise talon absolutely would just speak in riddles about and around it #i don't even think he's conscious about the direct effects of it #(but i wouldnt know bc he hasn't made that known to me in my brain) #people respond differently to different things and all that #also im so sorry if half the shit ive said recently is so like. Well Duh. i havent made a new oc in a decade gimme a break LOL #also i realize the. irony? of me even vaguely talking about it in the way i did but 1. i think that's also realistic when you #dont want to do a whole deep dive on someone else's business and 2. people are becoming #curious about my oc(s) and im just thinking about well; significant events and how to handle not speaking about em #FOR them. <- weirdly #idk. they're real to me. #its just so much more interesting to leave it up to them! people can lie people can downplay

[beetlevsboy]

I want to preface this post by saying that I love the cat king as a character, especially one that has such a major impact on Edwin and his relationship with his queerness and learning to be okay with it; HOWEVER, I also believe that everyone that genuinely believes he should be a love interest for Edwin should read this. (Also if you just like the cat king as a character and want to understand his character better and why his and Edwin’s relationship is not something that would be healthy or “real” for either)

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #the cat king #i do not ship them but I don’t want to hate on those who do (mostly) I just want to kind of inform people of the creators meaning for their #Relationship because I keep seeing people saying they hope they get together in s2 and it’s really confusing to me #Their relationship stems from the cat kings own narcissism and predatory behavior and Edwin’s need for someone to push him into under #Standing that his queerness doesn’t have to be torture and can be something giddy #even if he doesn’t return those feelings #The cat king does like Edwin but he doesn’t know anything about him. He likes the game and then he likes the kindness he’s shown despite #Knowing the cruelty he’s presented to Edwin #Queerness and preformance always go hand in hand #He’s a older secretly insecure character #Edwin is the younger #genuinely kind character that shows him that projecting his hurt will never get him what he wants #It’s about the isolation of queerness and the walls put up and the coping mechanism used to protect yourself even at the risk of hurting #Those just like you. That kiss from edwin was to say “I’m sorry your loneliness had caused you to be cruel. It’s the easiest way to feel. #And while I cannot and will not give you what you want or need #you deserve to feel happy and not like you have to gain the attention of uninterested people #I can’t even explain all my thoughts about their dynamic it’s just so much it’s just about the predadation from older queers because of #The trauma they’ve endured and the cycle of hurt and the way we can break the cycle with kindness while also protecting our youths by #Healing those traumas #Something the cat king learns and accepts #Off topic but I don’t like people defending their age gap because #Yes; Edwin is 86 #but he died with a teenage boy brain and then spent 70 of those years in hell where he certainly was not getting his brain developed while #The cat king has possibly hundreds of years of sentience and experience. The power imbalance is not if y’all. And that part of their dynami #Is actually very clear I think but some people didn’t catch it?? Or didn’t care??? Idk man

[cerise-on-top]

Haiii! I love your work :D

Could you possibly do a gaz x reader? When him and reader are celebrating their anniversary:), that would be really cute :’))

Hello! Thank you, I hope this is enjoyable as well! I went with a more fluffy route this time, I just wanna see Gaz happy and healthy and as far aways from any and all danger as possible! This request was really cute, I love Gaz! I'm glad there are several of us who do! Though I think I went a bit overboard with this, but how could I not when people are requesting best boi!

Celebrating Your Anniversary with Gaz

For the sake of this request, we’re gonna go with the idea that Gaz was able to be with you during your anniversary and didn’t end up being somewhere in the world, having to fight tooth and nail for his survival. We’re gonna go the fluffy route with this!

His memory is really good, Gaz would never forget something as important as your anniversary. Doesn’t matter if you’re together, doesn’t matter if you’re married. He has it memorized, he wrote it down on his phone, he noted it on several loose papers lying around just about anywhere. Trust me when I say he’s the last person to ever forget something like this. Although he would appreciate it if you remembered as well, he’d probably love it even more if, just once, you forgot about your anniversary, that way he could properly surprise and absolutely spoil you rotten. He wants to make your anniversaries days you can remember, so he will tailor them to your liking. You like going to arcades or amusement parks? A bookshop date? You just wanna go to McDonald’s? It’s all yours, and don’t you dare even think about paying, your wallet will not be strained on such a holy and sublime day.

The day would start off simple. You’d sleep in, if you can, cuddling for as long as possible, until one of you needs to get up for whatever reason. He’ll nuzzle into you, holding you as close to him as possible. He wants you to feel his warmth, how alive you make him feel, he wants you to feel how his heart beats for you and only you. Gaz has a beautiful voice, it’s fairly low and very calming to listen to. He’d hum your favorite tune that’s a bit calmer. He wants you to be as relaxed for him as possible, maybe even fall asleep in his arms again, even if he definitely wouldn’t mind you staying up to chat a bit with him as well. He’s gonna be all over you, making sure to touch you wherever he can so you feel secure with him. And when you’re drifting off to sleep again, that’s when his plan begins.

Gaz will plant a kiss on your neck or your forehead, whatever he can reach as he excuses himself to the bathroom. However, this sly dog will actually head for the kitchen to make you some breakfast. He’s a good cook, so whatever it is you like, he’ll make it. French toast? Scrambled eggs? Eggs and bacon? Your wish is his command, even if you never uttered a single order. He just hopes you won’t wake up or, even if you do, will at the very least stay in bed. This breakfast isn’t for you to enjoy in the kitchen or the living room, you’re to eat it in your bed. He even got you a nice tray so he can carry it to you without making a mess. Orange juice and all. You will be spoiled.

It’s then that he’ll wake you with another soft kiss to your temple, maybe shaking you awake a bit, so you can enjoy your breakfast together. Might even feed you a bit, just to be embarrassingly cute while he’s at it. The more content you look, the better. Afterwards, he’ll leave for the kitchen again, putting the tray away and decorating the living room a bit. There will be the most gorgeous roses you’ve ever seen in a vase, alongside several other flowers, each of which tells of a different kind of adoration. And when you finally follow suit and spot the flowers, he’ll just smile and claim that they looked very pretty. If you understand flower language, then you can tell he just really wanted to say he loved you in as many different ways as he could.

It’s then that he’ll ask you to get ready for the day, to brush your teeth and hair, and put on some clothes. You don’t need to look particularly fancy, he wants you to be as comfortable as you could possibly be. This is when he’ll take you to a place you like which, as mentioned before, could be just about anything. Waterpark, roller skate rink or just a lovely walk in the park, he’s open for everything. You will be accommodated accordingly. Those places are where you’ll be spending the majority of your day, grabbing something simple to eat for the time being, such as some fries or maybe some toast at a good cafe or pub.

When day meets night, he’ll take your hand in his, taking you to a fancy restaurant you’ve been to a few times. Preferably one where the both of you can look down at the city and see all the beautiful lights it has to offer. You’ll spend another two hours or so there. At the very least, you’ll be there until it gets dark, eating good food, having a good drink, maybe some wine as well. It doesn’t matter what you choose, all Gaz wants is to see the twinkling city lights dance in your eyes afterwards. When the evening is starting to roll over into night, he’ll take you to a ferris wheel. A big one where you can see the entire city from.

He’ll watch you as you excitedly look everywhere, taking in as many sights as you can, hoping that the ferris wheel stops at just the right time. Ideally, that would be right at the top. But he won’t be too picky if it’s somewhat to the side as well. As long as he gets to see your mouth agape at all the pretty lights, he’s content. While the ferris wheel stops, he’ll shoot his shot. If you’ve been together for a few years but aren’t married yet, he’ll propose to you. If you’re already married, he’ll still get down on one knee, take your hand in his and kiss its back tenderly, like a knight in shining armor. It’s embarrassingly sweet, but he knows no one but you is going to see it, so he does it anyway. You’re royalty in his eyes, you’re his to protect and care for, and he needs to show his loyalty however he can. Once he’s done kissing your hand, he’ll get up, holding your hand still and pulling you up with him, just so he can hold you close once again. Another tender kiss to your lips, and then he’ll get out a small box. Either the proposal ring or, if you’re married already, he’ll gift you a lovely little necklace made of pure silver. Something you can wear that will always remind you of him.

Once you’re down on the ground again, he’ll take your hand in his and lead you home, conversing with you about how much he loves you, how happy he is to have you in his life and how he hopes he gets to spend many, many more years like that with you.

If it’s not too late yet, you might watch a movie and cuddle on the couch. But you’ll likely both be tuckered out after today and just snuggle up in bed, ready for the next day.

And this is how Gaz’ ideal anniversary would go.

#cod #cod x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #I wish I could gift Gaz a small music box that plays “You Are My Sunshine” I think that would be a cute gift #I have a music box that plays “Over The Rainbow” which I think is also very sweet #I think I might wanna start collecting music boxes they're just so very lovely #now that's a hobby I can also get behind! a lovely little tune that could calm down just about anyone! #maybe even put someone to sleep as well #I still remember one of the first things I ever wrote and posted here. The Batter and the Music Box #I wish I had the time to write something like that for my favorite lads and lasses as well #whew this is almost 1.300 words long which is surprising since I wanted to go for 800-ish #but I read Gaz and my brain short circuited he was my favorite when watching the campaign #I did start watching the mw reboot for him and Valeria but I stayed for him and Valeria #mw1 was the best one out of the three in my opinion. and now I'm watching the og mw when I can :-) #og Soap and Ghost are a funny little duo. I love the little hackerman Ghost so much! though I wanna know where the joke of him breaking #so many laptops came from! it's cute but I always thought he was good with technology :o either way I like to imagine talking about IT #stuff with everyone and being good at it and helping them! IT is fun I like it a lot :-) #either way thank you for the request! this one was also an absolute delight to write! love me some good natured fluff and Gaz :D

[purple8cat]

I THOUGHT THIS PART FROM VNC CHAPTER 62 LOOKED FAMILIAR

i mean they're not. the exact same but they are very similar to each other!!

Also this could just be me but I feel like that these two have a lot of parallels. Break's family are the Rainsworths, who are not his biological family. Johann's family is Dante and Riche, who also not his biological family.

When someone they care about dies/gets threaten their first instinct is murder. When the Sinclairs died Break killed 116 people to bring them back, and when he thought Reim had been permanently dead he killed Fang. When Vanitas had threaten to kill Dante, Johann told him that he'll kill him if he meddles with his family.

Another thing they have in common is that there both, how do I put this, angry in some way/some point in their life? Break had been bitter and depress after returning from the Abyss but then learned to smile again because of Shelly. Johann... Okay, I can't say much about Johann because not much has been revealed about him yet BUT he definitely is sketchy!! With how the Dhampirs are treated it wouldn't be far off to say he would be angry at the world/society. He also has been shown to not like Noé much. Johann has also been shown to be very protective of Dante and Riche, so it's possible that he could've been similar to how Break had acted in the past, and now has something to live for and would do ANYTHING to protect it.

Another thing I'm just now realizing and probably should've brought up first but they have similar vibes/atmospheres. Though Johann is more flirtatious and Break is more... Weird. I guess. Eccentric, if you want a fancy word. They're also have this whole... How do I explain it? They're good at observing/analyzing things is I guess the best way to explain it?

I think I'm gonna stop there, there was something else I kind of wanted to talk about but I think it was a little bit of a stench fkdjgfjdf. I could be wrong about some of these, I didn't mean to write this much so basically all of it I wrote on a whim. Whatever my brain thought of I wrote down which resulted in this (which reading over it might be noticeable considering this post is kinda a mess kgjkfjgjfj). There's also the fact that some of the Johann stuff was just speculation, which could 100% be wrong. But I do think some of it I'm right about!!

#the mochijun brain left me for a month but then came straight back #love how i originally just wanted to point out that those panels looked similar and ended up writing a essay #ok a essay is a exaggeration BUT STILL #listen these two specifically have just flooded my mind recently #anytime i make a post i worry that someone else made one just like it especially since i don't constantly interact with one specific fandom #so hopefully no else has made something to similar kdfkjfjg. or at least just went into less or more detail than i did #anyways actually tags now #pandora hearts #the case study of vanitas #vanitas no carte #vnc #xerxes break #vnc johann #bro its 1:30 in the morning i need to go to sleep kdfsjfljf #purple8cat

[acrobattack]

another thing i was thinking about while zoning out at work last night is i’m a little surprised there’s no like. Name for characters who are based off the girls’ particular character model and powers. They’re so distinct from every other design in the show and they tend to gain the most popularity but there’s no real catch-all term for them, canon or otherwise

#the closest i’ve seen is like. ‘supers’ in some fics but that doesn’t really work #since we’ve seen plenty of heroes in the show drawn in the same style as the background humans #it makes it a bit hard to be precise because my brain wants to call them ‘powerpuffs’ but it doesn’t sit right in my head #bubble journal #it also feels significant to me because their similarity to the girls is always significant in some capacity #at least when they meaningfully appear in canon #like with bunny as someone who can finally give the girls a break #and the boys as. i guess their only real roadblock? #i feel like that’s what they were going for anyway but it’s sort of a moot point bc they never did anything lmfao

[toytulini]

the challenge of i should commission art of my ocs. would love to commission like, siiyr or bokrae, maybe krachyn or jula. siiyr or bokrae would make the most sense, maybe krachyn. i think theyre the ones with the most detailed notes on their anatomy

but also

oh god i cannot subject another artist to the anatomical war crimes i committed in making these ocs

#toy txt post #ig id be best off commissioning someone w a lot experience w like. centaurs. let alone commisioning them actually doing anything #interesting. the good bad news is ai cant do it either. fucking i cant even do it. why did i make these bitches. i gave bokrae a gf #but shes not. she cant even. her lips dont really do a kiss shape shes all teeth #siiyr has too many fucking elbows and a weird skull situation #bokraes skull continues to break my brain. i think it does break physics in universe. birdie did weird shit w that eye #its constantly trying to explode #the art ideas i have for bokrae and siiyr have plagued me for years even now in my depression funk of no new ideas #i cant bring myself to subject other artists to them????? #i should specify Bokrae's teeth more tho probably. i used to jokingly explain it away as she has all the teeth/they change #and. they do. canonically birdie has to replace all of her bones over time especially her skull. but also #that was me being lazyyyyyyyyyyyy #idk i know you dont necessarily need like a super detailed ref sheet to commission things but like. if i was commissioning my own ocs id #want that probably? #maybe i will try to draw the girls today. probably not doing anything interesting #bc i have not drawn for One Billion Years and im out of practice with Normal Human Anatomy let alone #these fucking Monsters #also maybe one day ill figure out Jared #pigeon head on a deaths head moth body with gemstone eyes is something i can see in my head but when i try to draw it it doesnt look right #so. need to work on that? the main thing about jared is that he needs to Scuttle #and id like to incorporate a pigeon #hm #hmmmmmmm

[good-beanswrites]

Just wanted to plant an idea if you wanted a bit of fuel: Mahiru asking Yuno to come to her cell before everything goes down.

Edit: I forgot the ask didn't say it but this is part of Kyanako's incredible Order Of Attack AU!

Didn't mean for this to become a mini Mappi study but here we are ✨ Thank you for the request! I fully intended to write them hanging out, but it's more right before they hang out lol. Went a bit on-the-nose with foreshadowing, but isn't that the fun part? It has become Emotional Over Mahiru Hour...

I kept things vague, but TW for mentioning her boyfriend's state of potential self-harm

Mahiru tried not to act superstitious, she really did. As much as she loved the idea of little luck charms, or avoided easy signs of misfortune, it was easier to keep quiet about such ridiculous things.

Maybe catching a bride’s bouquet meant no guarantees; maybe there was no real harm in stepping underneath ladders, maybe a coin tossed into a fountain had no real magic to its wish. However, the one thing she knew for sure held power was a lucky presence. Being in the right place at the right time could alter everything. And today was the right time for something. There was this waiting in the air. The prison had been holding its breath. Mahiru knew it was time to release it all.

“You must be so lonely, why don’t you let big sis Mahiru keep you company?” She beamed at Amane.

She often recalled the good fortune that she and a certain young man had crossed paths on the university terrace. She used to laugh with him about the wonderful coincidence of bumping into each other outside of the bakery, then the convenience store. 

Though she’d never spoken about it to him, she was also grateful for many occasions where she walked in on him at the precise moment to talk him out of something reckless. She always told him that they’d do everything together. He didn’t need to be alone anymore. 

“I wish to be alone. I need peace of mind to think.” Amane turned away from the cell door.

It was a good thing, too. Mahiru’s smile wasn’t as convincing as she said, “o-oh. Of course.”

She made her way around the panopticon, hearing Fuuta pace his cell in anticipation. He must have felt it too, this holding of breath. 

Or perhaps not. He turned down her offer for a bit of company, including a few more colorful words than Amane had. Mahiru just apologized for bothering him and headed back to her cell. She wasn’t sure where Mikoto was at this hour, but she didn’t feel like smiling through a third rejection.

She shook her head back and forth. She wished the motion could rattle the voices inside, she wished she could shake them all away. With her arms secured in place she could no longer cover her ears. She used to hum to keep them at bay, but lately they’d been too loud to stifle. They just kept on talking.

Their words told her the two were right. Nobody needed her company. No – nobody wanted it. Being together hadn’t helped her boyfriend. In fact, being together had been the very thing that got him killed. No wonder Amane and Fuuta wanted to avoid her. 

So then, this was for the best. She would rather deal with the brief sting of refusal than stumble in one day to find them hurt… or worse. As much as she tried to avoid the superstition of it all, the voices reminded her that her very presence could mean life or death. 

“Mappi, are you alright?” Mahiru hadn’t realized a tear had slipped down her cheek until she hurried to swipe it away in front of Yuno. 

“Hah, I’m fine! Just fine.” It was impossible to fool her, Mahiru had learned, but that never stopped her from trying. 

At least she always spoke tactfully. “Rough morning?”

Mahiru shifted her arms in her uniform, making a small sound of agreement.

“Can I do anything to help? What if I stay with you for a bit? I can do your hair, and…”

The voices were right. Amane and Fuuta knew it, too. Presences did hold power, and Mahiru’s was cursed.

But she would sound foolish admitting such a fear to Yuno. She'd heard plenty from the voices about how stupid and airheaded she was, there was no use in getting the same lecture from someone as grounded as her.

Mahiru managed a weak protest, unable to explain her real reasoning. Yuno was insistent. She didn’t give much of a choice. Could she feel the strangeness of the prison, as well? 

At last, Mahiru allowed her shoulders to sag. Yuno was lucky. And kind. Having her nearby would do her good. Amane and Fuuta would be alright. Mahiru had tried spending more time with them after verdicts were announced. Now, she made a mental note to pull back. If her love couldn’t save anyone, at least she could spare them from her curse. They would be safe. 

“Yes. Please stay. The truth is... I don't want to be alone.”

#milgram #mahiru shiina #yuno kashiki #amane and fuuta mentioned #i dont know how well this all fits in with your vision of the au but i had a ton of fun with this lmao sorry 😂 #oh hey if anyone knows any japanese superstitions like those in the beginning lmk #i was trying to research them but i kept getting lucky symbols/words - not necessarily actions like that #anyway thank you so much for this!! it was a really interesting moment to capture >:0 #drabbles that take me way too long to combine my three brain cells but im really pleased with the end result #i had a lot of Mahiru Thoughts but it took a bit of fiddling to make them fit together #the superstitiousness - the focus on one's presence - the parallels with his bf - what she's dealing with from the voices #im glad it came together semi-smoothly in the end asdfsd #i didnt mean for mahiru t break the fourth wall or anything -- #i always saw her as a master at picking up on social changes/cues so she can tell when things are most tense/kotoko is fully prepared #but she doesnt consciously know it -- she just knows that things feel Off #not only do the attacks confirm mahirus fear that shes cursed - but yunos involvement confirms her belief that shes extra lucky #i wonder if shed still end up spending all her time with yuno now that she thought she was such a protective person... #i couldnt articulate it right since the end was wrapping up so nicely - but mahiru starts to wonder if most people are fine being left alon #and *shes* the odd one out for craving company #then she feels isolated because by getting what she wants shes dooming someone else #i mean... if everyone you try to get close to starts getting hurt... wouldnt you worry about the same...? #AHAHAHAHA hope you enjoyed 🙃 #*posts this then retreats back into the void for a bit* #drabbles

[delisocks]

the thing is that there need to be more jesse posts on this website and they need to align perfectly with what i think about jesse pinkman. but i’m not going to make them i don’t have time for that

#i just want someone else to poke around in my brain while i’m falling asleep and make posts out of whatever they get #like take out little strands and weave it into fresh cotton candy. is that too much 2 ask?? i don’t want to post my opinions #i just want to see other people who also have my exact same opinions and post them. hope this helps. #jesse pinkman #breaking bad #i might die if i don’t read a new post on my anemic white boy soon #delitalks

[bigothteddies]

I just cannot get a handle on my brain today and I feel like I’m losing it

#unimportant thoughts #ugh. #it’s just. screaming at me today #completely illogical actions #telling me to break up with my partner because they’ll fall out of love with me sooner or later snd itll save me the pain of watching it #telling me to block someone close to me becsuse they’ll never love me again #telling me to reach out to a friend because i want their comfort #telling me to never ever reach out to that friend ever becsuse ill annoy them snd make them remember how clingy and annoying i am #and they’ll hate me and block me #telling me that everyone around me is constantly making fun of me behind closed doors #i just #its so fucking hard #and I’m trying so hard to keep a handle on it and not make any rash emotional decisions or actions #because I know my brain is being ridiculous right now but i just. it still feels true even when I know its not. #i fucking hate being mentally ill.