#hes trying and its not enough but at least it got better

[munsonsreputation]

hii! omg so i rlly love your writing its incredible. i have two requests but you can choose whichever one! the first one is an imagine w steve and the reader based off of call it what you want by taylor. orr a hurt/comfort imagine where the reader is basically comforting steve maybe aft he’s had a fight w his parents or something? again i rlly love your writing literally look forward for new writeups all the time!

at least we did one thing right

a/n: this one has been sitting in my inbox since forever and i managed to stir up this cute little thing. ciwyw is one of my favorite tracks of reputation and i can't wait to get the re-recording of this (hopefully soon!!!)

The party was in full swing, and by party you meant all of your close friends who are gathered in Steve’s living room and kitchen entertaining themselves while you and Steve hid away in his backyard like a routine.

His gaze flickered through the sliding doors, mock concern etched on his features as he mutters under his breath, “I swear to god, they better not pick the pineapple off the other slices.”

You turned your head to see what he was going on about, and sure enough the teenage boys were ravaging the kitchen like they hadn’t eaten in days. At this rate, they were like bottomless pits, and you weren’t quite sure how they were able to put away a portion of food without blinking.

Still, you snorted, swatting a hand over his thigh and garnering his attention back to you.

“They’re growing boys and their appetites are different from when they were twelve. We can order another if they’re still hungry.” You shrugged.

He shook his head, shifting to pull your legs over and across his lap.

“I ordered pineapple for you, and you should at least get to have one slice of it.” Steve insisted, though your orbs were too clouded with heart eyes to see the irritation he wore for the innocently selfish boys.

You pursed your lips into a tight smile, hooking your arm over his bicep, tugging yourself closer to him, “You’re so cute for someone who hogs all the blankets at night.”

He looked down at you, shaking his head with a mushy smile coming over him, “Hey you’re the one who likes the house freezing!”

Steve rumbles a string of laughter into the air, using his free arm that’s not being clung onto, to drape over your frame, practically wrenching your whole body onto his as you begin joining in the amusement. You give up on trying to get the upper-hand, letting yourself sit comfortably in his lap, your joined hands resting on either side of your bodies and you lean down to lay your head on his chest.

You snuggled deeper into the fabric of his shirt, inhaling the lingering scent of his cologne. It’s a simple pleasure of yours to be wrapped up in his arms, high above the whole scene, in your own little world like nothing else mattered.

“You’re my portable space heater, got all the warmth I need,” you declared, pressing kind kisses over his chest feeling his lips brush over your hairline.

Steve thought he must have done something right in this lifetime in order to give himself to you in a way he hadn’t given anyone else before. He doesn’t care that it’s simply you two sneaking away just to act like corny teenagers again. All of that fades into nothing when you look at him the way you do.

But before you could savor the moment, a familiar voice interrupted from above, followed by the squeak of rusty wheels gliding across the frame.

“Are you guys having fun out here without us!” Robin shouted, ringing out closer as she approached you both, but of course not without the presence of Eddie by her side.

You sat up, laughing, while Steve groaned and craned his neck to greet them. “You guys have to stop sneaking off to do whatever this is,” Eddie teased, gesturing between you both with a lighthearted smirk.

Steve grunted, “You’re just mad you don’t have a girlfriend to love on,” he shot back, pulling you down by the wrists to meet his lips in a messy kiss that left you giggling.

Eddie feigned revulsion and quickly retreated back inside, while Robin settled beside your bodies, her eyes twinkling with affection. “I still think you guys are adorable, even though this sneaking off thing is getting old.”

Robin had always been rooting for the two of you — there was just something about you both that made perfect sense, and when you finally bit the bullet, it was safe to say she was celebratory about the whole thing.

“We just don’t want to bore you guys with our public displays of affection,” you teased, sharing a knowing smile with Robin who threw her head back and laughed at all the times your friends would scold you both to cut out the lovey dovey acts.

Steve interjected, “Last time we cuddled on the couch you kicked us out of movie night…in my house!”

Robin rolled her eyes, pointing an accusing finger at him. “That’s because we could all smell the sexual tension between you guys. Seriously, just get it out of your systems before we get here.”

You slapped your hands over your flushed face, groaning behind them, “Noted. We’ll remember that for next time.” You promised, shaking your head.

Steve couldn’t contain his laughter, his eyes crinkling as he turned to his best friend with a pleading look. “Now, can you please leave and let me make out with my girlfriend in peace?”

She rose up out of the lounger with a grin, “If there’s one thing you guys did right, it’s each other… and I don’t mean sex!” With that she disappeared back inside, leaving you both to yourselves.

Steve gently pulled your hands away from your face, his soft smiling easing away any idling embarrassment that you knew was all in good fun. He brought your hands closer to his lips, spreading kisses across your knuckles that made your stomach flip with warmth.

“Well, at least did one thing right,” He murmured, raising his brows up at you as you blushed and nodded.

“We sure did.” You whispered, before cupping his cheeks and bringing yourself down to him.

Your eyes fluttered shut, closing the distance between your lips, fitting themselves together like a daydream. The jokers and the drama queens could take all the swings and call it whatever they wanted to — as long as you and Steve knew it was love.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

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[fixfoxnox]

Summary: Just a short little thing I wanted to write since my back is hurting again (which naturally means Roach's back is hurting again). This is technically a mini-sequel to Replacement, which I wrote a long while ago, but you don't have to read that to understand this! Enjoy!

"This is it," Roach groaned, feeling pain shoot up his spine as he shifted, "I'm done for. I love you both, split my items amicably. Make sure the worlds best son mug goes to Eddie, just to see Johnathan pout about it."

There was a small laugh from next to him, "You're not dying bug."

"Besides," Ghost chimed in from the other half of the room, "you wouldn't be dead for long, I'll drag your ass up from hell. No getting rid of me that easy." He didn't look up from his stack of paperwork.

"You would force me back i to a world of suffering and pain?!"

"You're being dramatic," Soap chimed. He took Roach's hand in his own, rubbing circles onto his skin with his thumb. "You've just thrown your back out again. Dr. Sanchez said you'll be fine in a day or two."

"My own boyfriend, doubting the depth of my suffering." Roach threw his head to the side dramatically, only to groan again as the movement jostled his back.

The heating pack he had on was helping a bit, but it couldn't erase all of the pain he was feeling. Not even the Tylenol could really help with that. It was just something his body would have to deal with and fix on its own. Just as it had caused the problem on its own.

On the bright side of things, Roach had the privilege of being doted on by his darling boyfriends for a few days. The two hadn't been willing to leave his side after his rather dramatic moment of his back trying to kill itself.

He'd just bent down to pick up his dropped keys, then the moment he'd started to rise back up and there had been a shooting burning pain down his spine. The pain continued on, flooding down through his legs until it felt like it was at the tips of his toes. His knees had given out then, and before he'd even had time to realize that for himself, both Soap and Ghost were at his side checking on him.

"Why do I have to have these issues?" Roach gave a whine, finally done with his dramatics. At least for the moment. "I'm not that old yet!"

Soap gave another laugh and moved into Roach's side, cuddling up to him with his head on his chest. "You know thats not why your back does this."

Roach gave a huff, "You get hit by a car one time and now you've got to deal with lifelong back problems." He shook his head, "Sick and fucking twisted."

Soap gave a small hum and Roach knew the man was likely agreeing with him. After all, Roach knew that Soap had his own issues and recurring pain with his shoulder. He remembered well enough the panic he'd felt when Soap had taken a bullet to the shoulder. Then the panic that came after that when months after healing Soap had a few days where even lifting the limb slightly would cause him pain.

Ghost didn't say anything, but Roach figured the man dealt with much of the same issues as them. He was certainly better at hiding it, but Roach always noticed when he was favoring one leg over the other or would give a wince under that mask because he'd stepped a bit wrong.

It was part of the job. Roach knew that, and he knew that they were all lucky to have only those slight problems, rather than lost limbs like Alex and Jackson, or worse like the many men he'd seen fall in battle before him.

He gave a final sigh, deciding that it would be more beneficial to just enjoy the warmth of his boyfriend next to him rather than complaining further. He needed to take the opportunity to relax anyway. And what an opportunity this was.

Bonus:

"So are you guys gonna blow my back out like you did the last time I was bedridden or what?"

#yes all the boys have some level of disability #because I say so #and also logic #just wait until i start taking my rage on workmans comp out here #gary roach sanderson #call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghostroach #soaproach #ghostroachsoap #soaproachghost

[x-liv25-jamieswife]

sorry if you’ve already done this 😭😭😭 but could you do Avery and Gigi headcanons!! Like when they meet and become friends ((((:

avery and gigi head canons

OMG YES! i honestly didn't think of making head canons for those two, but now that you mention it, i'm extremely intrigued. might not be as good as my other posts considering we don't know a whole bunch about gigi but i'll do my best. i've also been working on requests/posts for literal hours so my brain might be out of head canon making power. hope you like them though <3.

gigi is always asking questions about avery's childhood bc avery has the weirdest stories ever bc of the way she grew up.

avery taught her self-defense after some guy tried to come after her. gigi is now better than avery and will most definitely end you if you try to hurt her (she may or may not have also learned self-defense in order to kill duncan)

gigi loves talking to avery bc she doesn't really talk often which allows gigi to spill her guts out. she always has so many different stories to share and stuff, but most people don't spare the time to listen to her.

gigi forces avery to do tiktoks with her (dances, grwms, etc) bc avery looks so awkward and uncomfortable, and it makes her laugh.

she will steal avery's coffee bc no one allows her to have any. avery knows she steals it but doesn't say shit.

gigi forced avery to talk about sheffield and what he did to her. gigi now despises (but still sort of loves him cause he's her father) her father. she didn't think he had it in him to do smth like that to a literal child.

she encourages avery to talk about her emotions and let everything out. gigi is like the mental health advocate (for everyone but herself)

gigi loves ice skating and wanted to bring avery to the ice rink with her. avery didn't know how to ice skate though so gigi taught her how to (their lessons involved a lot of falling, near death experiences, concussions, etc)

avery is like an overprotective mom. if gigi is getting bullied or smth, she heads to that person's house/school or whtv and beats the crap out of them (verbally). they always run away in fear and never bother gigi again.

gigi buys avery clothes all the time. she thinks avery is really pretty and likes dressing her up.

avery gives gigi her credit card and tells her to spend money on whatever she wants (gigi calls avery her sugar mommy)

for some reason, avery is a really good twerker (is that even a word) and gigi forced her to teach her how to shake ass.

gigi feels comfortable enough to open up to avery and ask for advice/vent. she finds avery to be really non judgmental and straight forward which she appreciates.

avery and gigi will constantly gang up on grayson and pull pranks n him (they once replaced all of his expensive skincare with cheap shitty drugstore skincare and he actually screamed)

avery helps gigi with her homework when she's struggling. gigi is convinced avery is a saint bc she always explains the stuff to her better than her actual teachers.

gigi is bi (at least in my head), and avery was the first person she came out to.

they both talk about how much of a fucking coward grayson is when it comes to his feelings for lyra(?). they'll be watching grayson and lyra and they'll be saying things like 'omg how fucking dense can a man be, like, just fucking confess', and gigi will be like 'i fucking hate men'

avery bought her a cat (idk if its been mentioned in tbh if gigi actually has cats or if she just likes them, but if she does own cats, just pretend avery bought her another one)

they go out together and buy her cat(s?) cute little outfits (tutus, gucci coats, bows etc).

gigi has (not anymore though) a tinder account, and avery found out about it. she absolutely freaked and deleted the account telling gigi that it was dangerous and that she'd find a man for her if she was that desperate.

avery never got to experience things that most kids got to experience (she grew up too fast/didn't have the opportunity), and gigi finds it sad, so, she brings her out to like trampoline parks and stuff. it makes gigi happy seeing how happy avery is.

avery is always apologizing to gigi about her father. she blames herself and thinks she should've found another way to escape (when she was kidnapped). gigi reassures her by telling her that there was no other way and that, after everything her father did, he sort of deserved to die.

they shit talk men. they fucking hate them.

in my gigi and grayson post, i mentioned gigi loves knitting. avery knows this and buys her yarn all the time. when she's out with max (or alone or with gigi), she goes to stores that sell yarn and looks for smth cool for gigi.

gigi and her family don't have much money after what happened in tbh. avery gave them all a huge amount of money. acacia feels bad, but avery insisted. when gigi found out, she was so fucking happy she literally knelt on the floor telling avery she was a literal god. she then cried in her arms.

gigi gets her to dress up in the most scandolous shit ever. she somehow found out avery's bra size/underwear size and buys her lingerie whenever she goes out. avery secretly loves it but pretends to be scandalized.

#the inheritance games #jameson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #avery grambs #xander hawthorne #nash hawthorne #gigi grayson

[hearted-anon]

heyy, I recently discovered your blog and I must say it’s gnarlyyyy! This is totally random but do you think I could request lee! Minho and ler! Seungmin? I love 2min. It’s not a demand x have a gday maye

Dogs or cats?

Words:741 Note: AHH ITS NOT THAT GOOD :( T/w: none, cat is just tired Lee: Know Ler: Seungmin

"Are dogs better than cats-? Cats, obviously." Minho muttered under his breath, scrolling through various comments on a new video they had posted. The oh so exciting video where said interesting question was extracted from was one with both Seungmin and Lee Know in it, better known as 2Min. As the melody of the song they danced to echoed through the studio, which Lino thought was a great choice to do, he read the mix of words their fans had said for them, was when he found it.

"Never." He heard a snappy voice interrupt his calm train of thoughts. He wondered how anyone managed to find him, definitely not because there was music blasting from his phone loud enough to wake up the dorms if he moved an inch closer to the exit door. Glancing at the mysterious member that dared deny his claims, he noticed it was none other than Kim Seungmin. Of course he would deny Minho's obviously righteous thinking, cats were better than dogs, no matter what.

The cat and dog had a glaring contest, their claws and paws kept behind their back, ready to strike should there even be a hint of an opening. With a loud bark, which was really a soft grunt, Seungmin launched himself at Minho, pouncing onto his prey. Minho let out a shriek of a war cry, tumbling to the floor with the puppy as they wrestled playfully on the smooth wooden floors of the studio. Squeals of banter and yells of sarcastic insults filled the room, the two playing in their own world as if nothing else mattered, as if time stood still, the grains of sand in an hourglass stopping in their tracks whenever they had fun together.

"Admit it! Dogs are better than cats!" Seungmin insisted, pushing at the cat's invading hands that tried to wrestle him onto the couch. For now, the younger had the easy upper hand being atop Minho, but he knew it was as clear as day it wouldn't be long before the older got the upper hand, naturally being physically stronger.

"No! Cats are better- ARGH!" Minho's comeback was shortened when hands stopped resisting his, making him feel suspicious. Seungmin wasn't one to back down easily with a hard resolve, he was planning something.

Luckily, or unluckily, Minho had guessed it right, feeling fingers wiggle their way into his armpits. The cat shrieked of the sudden jolt of electricity that shot through his body, cackles spilling freely from his mouth from how surprised he was. The puppy was lucky in that vulnerable opening to say the least, not having to worry about revenge when the older's arms clamped to his sides.

"CHEHEHEHATER! YOHOHOU CHEATER!" Minho howled with laughter when Seungmin kneaded into the centre of his armpits, arching his back off the couch before crashing back down in ticklish agony.

"There were no rules against this hyung, now tell me dogs are better." Seungmin deadpanned, talking in a monotonous tone as if he wasn't tearing the cat to shreds in laughter.

"NEHEHEVER! YOU BRAHAHA- NOHOT THERE!" Minho tried his best to protest, but with choices come punishment. Fingers dug right into his waistline, making him throw his head back in hysterics. Instead of trying to even wrestle, at this point the older was just desperate to pry the younger's invading fingers off him.

"Never? Then I'll go forever." Seungmin chuckles lowly, sinking his thumbs deeper into Minho's v-line, making him shriek in laughter.

"STOP IT! NAHAHAHA!" Minho squeals and shakes with laughter when lips found their way to his neck, blowing hard on the sensitive skin. He falls into the couch with a cry, tears welling up in his eyes. He was rendered useless, a dog toy for Seungmin's entertainment till he couldn't take it anymore.

"FINE! DOHOHOGS ARE BEHEHETER THAN CAHAHATS!" Just like that, everything slowed to a stop. He felt a weight lift off him, literally and metaphorically. He pants and gasps, tears resting well on his lashes prettily. Seungmin nestled himself upon Minho's lap, cuddling him cosily.

"See, there are many benefits to dogs than cats." Seungmin happily boasted, Minho grumbling in protest. Nonetheless, he sank in when the puppy rubbed at his hair soothingly, fighting back the smile to keep up with his cold demeanour that melted away under Seungmin's warm hold.

"Mhm, but you have ten seconds to run once I'm awake, cats are sneaky predators after all."

#ler seungmin #lee!know #yummy #this took so long #sdsadsa

[saturnniidae]

"I should've seen the signs" I feel like Stoick was basically reliving the way he lost Valka.

To him, after a lifetime of wanting nothing but to kill a dragon, Hiccup's suddenly and inexplicably changed his mind. To him, Hiccup saying he can't kill them is just like when Valka refused to and tried convincing others as well, then as a result was 'killed' by one herself.

To him, way Hiccup tossed his weapon and shield to the side then approached Hookfang while speaking about how dragons aren't what people think they are probably bares an uncomfortable resemblance to the way Valka put down her weapon and stared a dragon in the eyes and as a result was taken.

To him, attempting to do anything but preemptively defend yourself against a dragon will only end in tragedy, so he has to do anything he can to stop Hiccup before it's too late.

(And just like with Valka, he unintentionally escalated the situation by trying to protect Hiccup but only agitated the dragon, causing it to panic and react, inadvertently putting someone he loves in danger. again)

Stoick of course, wasn't acting rationally, but it makes sense when you think about how traumatizing Valka's 'death' must've been for him (and how much Hiccup reminss him of her); he watched her get taken, presumably killed, and couldn't do anything about it.

#THE PARALLEL GHSSHRBFK THE PARALLELS #'so everything in the ring was a trick? a lie?' he was so elated when he though hiccup was finally taking after him #he convinced himself so hard that This was the real hiccup he's finnaly going to be a proper viking a real member of the tribe #and he was so proud and glad he finally had something he could connect with his son over #but again he'd convinced himself of all that. he completely ignored everything hiccup had to say #in his eagerness to actually be a Family to actually bond with his child #he was so stuck with this fake image of Hiccup the Dragon Slayer he'd convinced himself of to the point #when it all fell through he felt almost betrayed #betrayed and scared #scared he made a horrible irrational and emotionally charged decision of essentially disowning his son #im not saying stoicks a good parent. hes not. but hes trying and alone and taking care of an entire village as well as hiccup #and all the unprocessed trauma and emotional repression #hes not great but hes not bad either. hes trying. #hes trying and its not enough but at least it got better #i love stoick #parents of autistic kids they dont understand moment #httyd #stoick the vast #stoick haddock #hiccup haddock #valka haddock #httyd analysis #maybe? #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #haddock family #moth.txt #also pls dont tell me abt how valka and the 2nd movie wasnt planned yet. ik that but i like expanding on things #and pondering a characters reasoning for certain decisions bc its fun and makes them all the more fascinating #post rewatch 1am thoughts go crazy (sorry if any of this is like redundant or confusing. im tired) if u read the tags ily

[bitchthefuck1]

have you watched the pjo show?

I saw the first 2 episodes when they came out at a watch party one of my friends threw, and as soon as they ended I realized I didn't particularly care to keep going. It wasn't like, outrageously bad by any means, I just don't think it gripped me enough to want to continue, and there were enough odd adaptational choices that I thought weakened the story that I lost interest. I might have tuned back in if the changes actually built to something interesting in the later episodes, but from everything I've seen it kinda seems like they just took the teeth out of the story, which was what I was worried about.

That being said, the cast seems really great and well suited to their roles, so like, if they improve the writing and pacing in the later seasons and stop sanding down all the rough edges, I might pick it back up. But otherwise, pass.

#im like famously bad at watching tv tho so me not wanting to continue is less dramatic than it probably sounds #i just don't really watch it casually anymore so I'll only follow along with shows that i really really like #i got another ask about the show a little while ago and i was like 'oh ill answer that once ive caught up' and then i never caught up so #sorry to whoever sent that i wasn't ignoring you i just never got to the ep you mentioned #like if I'm trying to be optimistic. given how quickly shows get canned if they're not immediately super popular. and given that this is a #disney product. its possible that once the show proves it can be commercially successful and the characters get older they might stop #playing it so safe and boring and bring some of the harder and more complicated elements back in. and like. that won't fix what they've #already fumbled but it will at least make the story better and more interesting. but idk how likely that is esp since #rick riordan seems totally on board with all the changes and it sounds like he doesn't really get why they diminish the story #like i feel like they're thinking too much about whether or not a change has a huge impact on the plot and not enough about how it #impacts the characters and the overall theme and vibe of the story. if that makes sense #like sure we still got from point A to point B in roughly the same way but that trip means something different for the characters now #and if you do that enough times you end up with a completely different result at the end even if we're technically in the same place #percy jackson show #asks

[scarletiswailing347]

thought of some really cool backstory for killer!zam for the dbl au but i Cannot tell if it clashes with the canon lore or not cause i havent looked into it enough yet

#mine.txt #c zam #au dbl #f ls #basiaclly survivor!zam got banished to the void after 6 months cause he just kept on dying #and it eventually made his mind just shut down and start dissociating #which the entity didnt like cause that meant he wasnt feeling things anymore #and eventually he turned into a haunt cause i assume survivors that got voided turn into haunts eventually??? idk it doesnt really say #and the void in the blight's lore cinematic doesnt really look like the one in the event #while the one in the observer's cinematic doesnt really point to much #and during halloween or whenever it canonically takes place during a rift opening event spoke managed to release him #which made him remember everything that happened to him in the trials and yanked him out of his dissociated state #which stirred some Extremely Strong and Extremely Homicidal feelings #which made the void go hmmm maybe i still have some use for this guy after all and brought him back from the void #but since hes a haunt he needs a lot of auric cells to reconstruct #which isnt a problem for the entity but its still way more than the average killer needs #idk what the logic of the visceral cankers and pustula flowers are since i cant really find anything other than they bloom during halloween #so i headcanon they appear in areas with a larger concentration of auric cells #and normally auric cells are too spread out to spawn them #hence why they only really show up in halloween since more consciential energy is built up in the entity since emotions are running high #(i mean all kinds of emotions not just despair cause just despair would be the void) #and since zam is essentially a walking talking auric concentration hes got them blooming all over him #i also headcanon the realms run on amok time so both survivor!zam and killer!zam are just running around at the same time #theyve got an isolated timeloop thing going on where survivor!zam keeps dying and turning into killer!zam #while killer!zam keeps running on heightened emotions until the toll of killing himself over and over again gets to him and he gets voided #at least until mapicc has had enough and decides to teach zam to be better at surviving #as opposed to leo and clowns method where they just kinda try (and fail) to shield him #so survivor!zam is more visibly traumatized now but can at least hold off his own #killer!zam meanwhile doesnt get fatigued from killing himself over and over again and doesnt get voided #the entity allows this cause it inflicts significant emotions in the survivors lol

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Obligatory 9am work rant

#manager is not here rn which is great but someone said he might come in at 11 which is bad #the assistant manager is usually the one who comes in later which would also be bad but not as bad #i saw that a new baker was hired at the same store the only other baker works at so thats good #at least she wont be alone when i leave #my ingredients?????? STILL not here????????? #i got molasses last week but i need rye flour!!!!!! what the heck!!!!! i cant make cokies!!!!!!!! #i can make cakes so ig its .... ok..... enough. ...... what the heck #had a lil note left on my table with things to do from the manager which is pretty normal #said do this. make cakes. do that. remember to greet every customer you can do it :) #lol bro. god #it really annoys me that they keep saying EVERY CUSTOMER bc im honestly trying to a few a day #better than nothing and better on my anxiety #and i think that's kinda??? obvious???? like if they really cared about 'helping me manage my anxiety' it makes sense to start slow #but every time its. each customer every customer every person. i say its hard they say uwu you can do it #hello??????? #well. im gonna think and pray about it all day and probably quit tomorrow lol #let's hope no one comes in at 11 that would be bad 😭 can i have some peace #she was a baker girl

[sysig]

Pet names (Patreon)

#Doodles #Original #Solitaire #12 Names: Side B #The other half <3 Though ♥ is now no longer included because his were all handled last time lol #That's the thing with being first! Everyone else has the opportunity to show you up after the fact haha #Nakamura continuing the trend of at least Attempting to be professional calling Stellat ''Spear'' - pointed ✨ #Stellat actually has a specific nickname for Nakamura that all three have adopted into their own languages which Slightly changes the tone #Its translation is ''Strike of the Vein'' but the implication is basically calling him Adel's lapdog which - he is but still lol #Nakamura is indifferent to it (from Stellat) so he doesn't particularly mind but he does consider it slightly unprofessional #Which is better than Completely Unprofessional lol - ♦ will try to pick up nicknames in their own languages to cut right to the quick #So he learned how to call him ''Neko'' and knows that it's also a double-entendre lol - better than what he calls him in Italian haha #Stellat is basically the only one who can get under Nakamura's skin lol #He's still well-liked! (Kind of lol) Enough that others take influence from him - if nothing else he's usually forgiven the easiest #Everyone knows he's a flirt #Nakamura is returning with his cutesy nickname for Stellat which is ''Sparkle'' haha ♪ #Nakamura's and Noirceur's is probably the most chill-tense - like ♥ and ♠ are bombastic and loud so their tension is right to the surface #But there's a lot of quieter feelings between ♣ and ♠ - somewhat affectionate somewhat betrayed just a lot of little pieces #Noirceur is calling him a traitor haha and Nakamura returns with ''Beloved/I miss you'' which ♠ picks up on eventually but is still confused #Thus him trying to better understand him in his own language - he asked once and got back ''Puzzle'' - they're both puzzled by each other! #Nakamura's final name with the * is for ''Spade'' but is also pronounced ''Suki'' - again with its implicit double-meaning #He's a very private person so he's less inclined to explain that one haha #And lastly the most openly flirtatious lol ♪ Stellat is a flirt and Noirceur is surprisingly receptive! As much as he is also flustered lol #It wouldn't be nearly as fun if he wasn't! ♠ is the only one that ♦ refers to with English nicknames #So things like ''My pet'' ''My dearest'' ''My darling'' are commonly employed in whisper just to get him to blow up about it haha ♪ #Noirceur is actually calling him by a nickname in return! Stellat without the t - Stella is star ✨ Just as sparkly haha #Their last is again in their own languages - ♠ calls him a ''Scary Incubus'' in French lol and ♦ returns with Italian ''You're such a tease' #Noirceur was also the first to pick up Stellat's nickname for Nakamura and Adel picked it up from there hehe #Also I didn't do it on purpose (obviously in some cases) but most of these have the symbol on the side they're standing :0 #I didn't plan that! I just doodled as I wanted lol

[todayisafridaynight]

Prior to sending the ask I was just guessing what matrophobia meant based on the root words but I looked it up after and went ohhhh and then you confirmed that extra dimension to it and I went OHHHHH

I think that gets to the heart of what I've been thinking about, that bittersweetness, because despite his best efforts... of course he could never end up anything like Yoko, but he still ended up with an abusive "household." Because in addition to Masato ending up how he did, he has to see those same situations play out, feel that same tension in the air between Jo and Ichi, over and over for almost a decade straight.

Like, in a way, he's forced to put himself in Toshio's shoes when that happens. He can't really get through to Jo, in the same way Toshio can't get through to Yoko, but he can try to step in before lasting damage is done, and he can try to make it bearable for his son. You know. Have a nice talk. Treat him to Peking duck. I'm SO normal about the (drawn-out) parallels of those scenes

So then with Jo... he kind of does become his father, even if he never wanted to (no one wants to), both through his ruinous neglect of Masato at birth and through how he comes to look at discipline and corporal punishment. I'm sure it's not lost on him in Masato's case (owww), but with Ichi, it's not like he has any reason to see him as his son... But How Far Can That Take You.

Because it's like, at the start, he was openly beating Ichi in front of Arakawa and not letting up much when Arakawa intervened. But then you have The Yubitsume Scene and Arakawa walking in on All That and... he looks sorry. Sorry for being caught, probably, but sorry nonetheless. Like... what changed between then and now... have you two had a Heartfelt Conversation... do you know where Arakawa got that scar... are you unable to change your "nature" even then...

Side note bro your SHOE is the size of his TORSO I promise you do not need to kick him with all the strength you've got like what the hell is this 😭😭😭

BUT ALL THAT ASIDE thank you so much for delving into the symbolism! Wonderful read. I don't really have an eye for symbolism, so that makes it all the more enjoyable to revisit the comic and everything with what you've gone into. I think a lot of your experiences resonate with mine, so conversely I'm not sure what others would take away from it, BUT I think there's enough there that's so insightful and evocative that it's effective without personal experience. I don't think there's anything I could add, so. Yeah. For once I am happy to sit back and take it all in... On that note, definitely looking forward to your next comic!

AUUUGH YEAAAH YEAHEYA HYEAH THAT EXACTLY OUUUGH OWIEE OWW.....

that's literally it though. like no extra notes. except The Obligatory Few i dont think it was an accident that arakawa is set up as the beginning of the game's 'protagonist' and planting that 'troubled family' taste first thing in our mind. i remember how i felt when i first saw arakawa walk in on jo and ichi and then arakawa taking ichi out for dinner i was just like🧍‍♂️Girl No The Cycle.... It's Continuing...... //screams// LIKE UGH IT WAS SO GOOD BUT ALSO OWWW STOPPP and then on the REPLAY it just hurts more cause with the added context to jo's character its like Oh No...... You're Your Father's Son....

and youre right: jo doesn't have an implicit reason to see how he treats ichi is wrong, hence he similarly doesnt have any reason to stop- not unless arakawa intervenes of course (and i will stand outside my window thinking of the possibility arakawa ever did try to have A Conversation with jo... arms folded behind my back and all like Man™️....)

oh but yeah, absolutely no problem ! im lowkey of an egotist so i do like to talk bout the stuff i make. More In Depth (though thats obvious considering the fuckin essays in the tags i always leave ☠️☠️) gerjlgaELKjg. so i was happy to explain ♪(´▽｀) !! what i like about symbolism is that it can be intentional or not, and the fun is always finding it just by chance. i cant explain it properly, but i just think its a neat 'seasoning' of sorts to drawings (❁´◡`❁)

#long post #snap chats #everyone in rgg got flipper shoes i stg tho like evey time i look at everyones renders i gotta point it out to myself 😭 #speaking of. The Cycle. and Personal Experiences. arakawa walkin in on jo and ichi esp hits cause thats def a thing thats happened to mysel #its insane how one woman terrorizes my whole family but no cause i remember my mom would tear me a new one. Metaphorically #or she'd be pissed at my sis and i and my sis would just take us out for lunch and we'd talk bout it #Unsurprisingly my dad would do that for me growin up and he was there #i used to visit him on weekends when he lived nearby and those were my Peking Duck dinners in a sense #he'd just do his best to make sure i felt at home and making sure. i was cared for for once LMAO #so yeah to see that repeat in my family with my sister taking the role of my dad its like ow... #OH YEAH NO ITS BEEN A HOT YEAR SINCE I SAID HOW HARD IT WAS FOR ME TO GET THROUGH THE BEGINNING OF Y7 HUH #it hurts a lot to watch masumi's backstory since it's EXTREMELY personal and hits too close to home but i watch it anyway 🥴 #probably the first and only time a piece of media can actually 'trigger' me that badly i guess. how lame #i think ive updated my villain origin story enough tho. im sorry you also had a shit mom If Im Assuming Right #i wish it was easy to deal with bad parents but. well. if it was we wouldnt have them amiright #the best i can do is vent how i feel and at least try to have people in similar situations as me feel. understood. as corny as that sounds #its a little heinous to say Im Glad Our Experiences Are Similar cause id never wish my experiences on anyone else #but i guess i mean to say im glad we can understand each other in that regard #on a semi-better note. please dont hope for the comic anytime soon i only just finished sketching set pieces ( ´◡` ;;;) #I GOT DISTRACTED AGAAAINNNNN also its very cold and i dont work well in the cold. s'cause my fingers get all stiff EW #but i WILL have this one done i have too many abandoned projects i aint abandoning another one #with that in mind its funny you mention arakawas scar cause i did have a tiny baby thing in mind with it #nothing sad or serious this time just somethin cute even. if THAT ever happens we'll see it but yeah. just another funny case of Timing #alright bye bye for now i should work on this. after i answer your second ask HANG ON ILL SEE YOU THERE--

[luxaofhesperides]

Soulmark AU + Sleeping Beauty ; requested by @candeartist422!

For the last few years, Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die.

It sounds cruel to say it that way. But the waiting is more painful, he thinks, than just mourning a lost love. It’s not like most people ever meet their soulmates anyways; his parents weren’t meant to be, but they still loved each other and had a life together. He wishes he could turn his focus away from his soulmate, but Duke is a romantic at heart and has always wanted to find the other half of his soul.

But since he was fourteen, his soulmark has dulled, fading in and out of color. What was once a vibrant blue crystal star, with eight points and a swirl of watercolor hues around it, dimmed more and more until Duke was sure he was watching his soulmate die slowly. 

His soulmate didn’t die then. Whoever they are got better, his soulmark gaining color, but it never went back to the way it was. For years after, Duke would check at the beginning and end of each day, keeping track of when it faded and when it regained its color. 

He thought his soulmate was sick. In and out of hospitals, fighting to stay alive.

And then it went nearly colorless. 

Duke doesn’t remember much about that day. He knows he woke up, brushed his teeth, the lifted up his shirt to check his soulmark in the mirror. The blue was almost completely gone, the star on his left hipbone nearly gray with how colorless it was. He started at it for a moment, shocked, and reality slid away from him as he retreated into the safety of his mind, fully dissociating. 

Bruce had found him when Duke didn’t show up for breakfast. He held him and offered quiet words of comfort that Duke couldn’t understand, but just having someone with him lessened the hurt of losing his soulmate. 

Seeing the color come back the next day, faint as it was, hurt even more.

A year later, Duke still can’t break the habit of checking his soulmark twice a day. It hasn’t changed at all, still faint and dim, but carrying just enough color to show that his soulmate was still alive. At the very least, they were still breathing, but his chance of ever meeting them is basically zero. Still, he can’t help but hope, wishing that he could meet them even once before they die and leave him forever. 

“Same as ever,” he murmurs to himself as he brushes his thumb against his soulmark. He’s terrified that he’s forgotten how beautiful the blue of it was when his soulmate was healthy. 

Duke doesn’t let himself think on it too much anymore. Though his thoughts often turn to his soulmate during quiet moments like these, the busy nature of Gotham is usually more than enough to pull his attention back to the here and now. There’s no use in obsessing over his soulmate anyways; they’re just going to die, sooner or later, and Duke knows he’ll never get to meet them. They’ll just be another empty space in his life, right next to his parents. 

“Come on, Thomas, focus,” he tells himself firmly, then gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen for breakfast.

The manor is quiet. It usually is in the mornings, with everyone from the night shift dead asleep and trying to get as much rest as they can before they have to start their day. Not that many of them stay in the manor these days; Duke and Damian are the only permanent residents at the moment, but Steph usually stays half with her mom and half in the manor during the summers when she’s home from college, and the others drop in whenever they feel like it. 

Bruce lives more in the Batcave than the manor, so he doesn’t really count. It’s also why Duke is surprised to see Bruce awake and dressed like a normal person, drinking coffee in the kitchen as if this is a normal occurrence. 

“Morning,” Duke offers.

“Good morning, Duke,” Bruce replies. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough. Alfred out or something?”

“He may have kicked me out of the Batcave to clean it up a bit,” Bruce answers tiredly. “Want me to make breakfast?”

Duke has heard the horror stories of Bruce’s attempts to make edible food in a kitchen. In the interest of not dealing with food poisoning, Duke shakes his head quickly and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I was kinda wanting to eat out for breakfast. Get out there as me, and not a mask, you know?”

“Mind if I join you? Alfred may forgive me for not sleeping if I willingly go outside.”

Duke laughs. “Sure man, as long as you pay.”

“I’ll drive, too.”

“What, don’t trust me behind a wheel?”

Bruce gives him a tired look, eyes dead and dull. “I have taught all my children how to drive. The day I willingly let them take the wheel when I am not actively dying is the day I’ve been replaced by a robot clone of myself who doesn’t know better yet.”

“That is… very specific. Is that a thing you usually worry about?”

“I’m Batman. I have to worry about everything.”

Yeah, that tracks. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if he has at least five contingency plans for that scenario, should it ever happen. “Well,” he says, “Right now, all you need to worry about is having your wallet and driving us down to The Foodie Nook. I’ve been craving their breakfast plates for ages.”

Bruce doesn’t object to his choice of restaurant and follows Duke down to the garage, grabbing a random set of keys and pointing it out to the many cars he owns. One near the front blinks its lights as it unlocks and Duke cheerfully tosses himself into the passenger seat as Bruce opens the garage door. 

The drive into Gotham is smooth. They don’t hit traffic until they reach the bridge that leads into the city proper, taking them away from the quiet of Bristol. The morning is busy, but not enough that Duke worries about being out as the Signal to help keep the peace. It’s a normal type of busy, one borne from people going about their lives, feeling safe enough to go out. 

The Foodie Nook is entirely local and very popular, so the parking lot is nearly full. But they expanded their space last year, which means he and Bruce don’t have to sit outside while they wait to grab a table. Bruce keeps conversation light and casual, well aware of the many listening ears around them, and it’s nice, feeling normal for once. 

Well, as normal as life can be with Bruce Wayne™. The server who comes to lead them to a table realizes who she’s talking to after she gets a proper look at them while holding open the door and promptly stutters over her words. 

“No need for any special treatment,” Bruce laughs lightly, “We’re just here for breakfast. Nothing special.”

“Of course,” she replies, cheeks red. “Um, right this way! We’ve got a table by the windows for you. Just two, yeah?”

“Yup! Just two. Thought this was a good day to spend some time with Duke. He’s a great kid, you know, I’m glad I was given the opportunity to foster him.”

The sunny, cheerful Bruce Wayne persona is so different from the usual Bruce he works with that it feels like he’s standing next to a stranger. But his words are sincere and warm his heart, filling up the gaps that his soulmate has left. 

“Here you are!” their server announces, showing them to their table. “I’ll be right back with some menus.” She’s gone in a rush, and other customers glance over before quickly averting their gaze. 

It’s one of the unspoken rules of Gotham: give the Waynes their privacy while they’re out in public. Questions and conversation are for public events only, but if they see a Wayne out and about during a normal day, everyone leaves them be unless spoken to first. Duke used to follow those rules as well when he was just another Gothamite. It’s strange being on the other side of that now that he’s in with the Waynes.

Duke barely has to look through the menu when it’s handed to him. The breakfast plates are his favorites and he gets one every single time he comes to The Foodie Nook; stacked full with breakfast foods from around the world. As a kid, he loved the Mexico Plate, but these days he’s craving either the Brazilian Plate or the Vietnamese Plate.  

He can’t decide on which one and thinks about tossing a coin to decide, but seeing how that’s Two Face’s whole thing, he decides to hold off and settle the matter with eenie-meenie-minnie-mo. 

He gets the Vietnamese Plate.

Bruce, on the other hand, reads through the entire menu like it’s a novel, then leans over and says rather loudly, “Duke, what’s a tort-illa.” 

The pain he feels hearing that is only worsened by the amusement in Bruce’s eyes. He’s doing it on purpose, playing up the Brucie act for the public so he can psychologically torment Duke. A few nearby customers choke back laughter, turning away to hide their smiles. 

Duke shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just food. Don’t ask any more questions, I just want a peaceful breakfast.”

“Well then,” Bruce replies, “I suppose I know what to order now.”

As if she was summoned, their server reappears before them, cheeks still looking a little flushed. “Hi! Ready to order?”

She writes down their orders quickly, valiantly keeping a straight face at Bruce’s mispronunciation of tortilla, then heads off to deliver their orders to the kitchen. 

Rather than draw out a conversation with Brucie Wayne, Duke settles for playing a few idle games on his phone; his current favorite is one quiet cat cafe game where he directs cats into fulfilling cafe orders. 

Bruce, despite being out in his civilian identity, is working. He’s on his Batman phone, which looks the same as his other cell phones except this one has a bat symbol sticker just barely hiding a Superman sticker on the phone case. His brow is slightly furrowed as he reads whatever file he’s accessing from the Batcomputer. It’s a little worrying but it could be anything. Bruce makes the same expression when he reads one of Tim’s snarky comments getting quoted in the news.

But that’s not Duke’s problem! He’s here to enjoy his breakfast and it will take the end of the world itself to remove him from his seat before he’s done eating.

The game takes most of his attention until their food comes out, and by then Bruce has tucked away the smallest of his Batman mannerisms. They enjoy a normal, peaceful breakfast. Bruce ends it by asking their server if she has any debt that’s weighing her down, then giving her a tip that’s at least five thousand dollars above that. 

She does cry and Bruce hugs her. It’s very sweet. 

As soon as they get back into the car, his easy going smile drops and Duke knows some superhero nonsense is about to take over his day. 

“Duke,” Bruce starts, seriously, “I received a message from Zatanna.”

“Don’t drag this out,” Duke says, “Just give it to me straight. What terrible thing is about to happen to us?”

“It’s nothing too big. They just recently defeated a magical being who had been tearing apart secret government facilities in Illinois. He had both magic and a high tech weapon, which they confiscated and are delivering to me. The government agency he was fighting was suspiciously interested in the weapon, and based on their behaviors and newly revealed work, Zatanna made the decision to turn the weapon over to us so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Bruce smoothly merges into traffic as he speaks, getting them onto the road back to the manor. There’s a look in his eyes that means he’s keeping a lot unsaid, and Duke knows without a doubt that whatever this government agency was doing is bad if Zatanna needs Batman to act as extra security. 

He’s not sure about her decision to trust the weapon to be safe in Gotham, either. Sure, Batman will keep it as safe as he can, but with their luck, it’ll end up in the hands of a Rogue and lead to a lot of death and destruction. 

As soon as they cross the bridge and return to Bristol, Bruce steps on the gas and the car tears down the road. Without any other cars to worry about (or traffic laws), it takes barely two minutes to reach the manor, when the gates open for them and let them into the garage. 

Alfred waits for them by the door, looking them over with a critical eye. “I see you have managed to go outside, Master Bruce. What’s the special occasion?”

“Just breakfast,” Bruce answers. “I’m heading back down to the Batcave. Zatanna will be here soon to deliver a weapon.” He’s gone before Alfred can say anything more, hurrying down the hall and turning the corner, disappearing from sight as he heads towards his office. 

“I see we have yet to break that bad habit of his. Did you enjoy your morning out, Master Duke?”

“Sure did, Alfred. I’m, uh, also going down to the Batcave. He’s definitely not telling me a lot about what’s going on, so I’m just going to read about it over his shoulder. I’ll be back up for lunch, though!”

“And perhaps you’ll be able to drag Master Bruce away from that cave of his,” Alfred comments wryly as he walks with Duke towards the office. He gives Duke a nod, then splits away from him, returning to the kitchen where Duke can hear Damian speaking to someone, probably Tim by the annoyed tone of his voice, and mentally wishes Alfred luck in handling them.

Duke sets the correct time on the clock in Bruce’s office and heads down to the Batcave, taking the steps two at a time. 

Bruce is already at the Batcomputer, shoulders tensed, when he arrives. 

“More bad news?” he asks as he makes his way over.

Bruce doesn’t bother looking away from the screen as he says, “More details about the fight. It seems the magical being called himself a ghost and was going on a rampage due to a betrayal. He says they nearly killed his son.”

“Oh, yikes.”

“And two of the scientists working with the government agency said that he stole their son and is keeping them from saving him.”

“Yikes,” Duke says with more feeling.

He doesn’t get to hear anymore details about JLD’s fight with this ghost when he catches a flicker in the corner of his eye. Duke turns and stares at the empty space in the Batcave near the medbay and watches as colorful magic gathers and swirls in dizzing circles. The portal opens a moment later and Zatanna steps out, looking exhausted and lightly singed. 

“Batman,” she greets, holding a white gun that looks like it belongs in an early sci-fi movie from the 60s. “The GIW is trying to arrest us. Constantine keeps burning their badges and documents so it shouldn’t be a problem, but they are determined to get this back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came after you next. They’ve got some way of tracking things, but I didn’t have time to get any details before I had to leave.”

Bruce takes the gun from her hands carefully, looking it over with a sharp gaze. “Why would a ghost want to use a gun?”

“I don’t know. He had a variety of powers, too.”

“What does this do?”

“Shoots ice. He never let it go and nearly burned me alive for taking it before we subdued him.”

“We’ll keep it locked up,” Bruce promises. 

Zatanna sighs. It looks as though a physical weight fell off her shoulders. “Thanks. I’m going to head back to stop Constantine from getting into a fistfight with the GIW agents.”

She opens another portal with a waved hand and a muttered spell. Bruce is already walking away to set the gun down on a work station, so Duke is the one to wave Zatanna goodbye. 

By the time he reaches Bruce’s side, the gun is already dismantled, all pieces neatly set aside. Sticky notes denote which pieces go together and in what order. It looks the same as most guns, save for the aesthetic, but the heart of it is a glowing blue orb, large enough to cover the entirety of Bruce’s palm, and it brings a chill to the air.

Duke stares at it and feels his soulmark burn ice cold.

“Duke?”

It’s in his hands. He doesn’t remember reaching out to take it, but it’s in his hands. He can’t take his eyes off of it, cradling it gently and bringing it closer to his chest. 

It’s the same blue his soulmark once was. Before his soulmate began to fade, before every day became a waiting game to see how long his soulmate will last before they die. 

This has something to do with his soulmate. He’s sure of it. 

He won’t let anyone take it from him. 

“Duke. Give that to me.”

He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body. He’s detached, floating somewhere outside his body, puppeteering his limbs, making them move without feeling the motion. Shadows condense around his feet and Bruce takes a step back, wary. 

“Duke,” he says again, but Duke can’t find any words, can’t draw on his voice, can’t even look away from the bright, bright blue of the orb. It pulses lightly in his hand like a heartbeat. 

Bruce reaches a hand out. 

He’s pulled back by shadows before he can get close, and Duke holds the orb against his chest, right against his heart, and feels the cold seep into him. 

“Duke. I need you to look at me.” This time, Bruce’s voice has Batman’s growl in it, a heavy command that he can’t help but instinctively follow. He looks up and meets Bruce’s eyes, but he can’t focus. All his awareness is in his hands and the heartbeat of the glowing orb.

“I have to protect this,” Duke manages to whisper. “I… I think it’s alive.”

“Okay. Let’s get you to the medbay so you can sit down. We’ll figure this out, Duke.”

Bruce slowly, carefully, sets his hand on Duke’s shoulder. He keeps his attention away from the orb, so Duke allows it and lets Bruce guide him to the medbay and onto one of the medical cots. Bruce leaves him after a minute of quiet fussing, muttering about calling Zatanna.

Whatever. None of that matters when the heartbeat of the orb grows stronger, steadier, and Duke feels it match the beat of his own heart.

Time slips away from him. Distantly, he hears people move around the cave, speaking in low tones. A hand presses against his shoulder, warm, then moves away. 

The orb in his hand moves. 

Duke blinks slowly, then claws his way back to awareness, pushing past the haze that’s fallen over his mind. The orb turns over in his hand, then cracks right down the middle. The glow grows stronger, washing the medbay in blue light and a symbol appears on the orb.

It’s his soulmark. 

Later, he won’t be able to say why he did it. There were no thoughts, no reasonings, no explanations. Duke simply moved on instinct and lifted the orb up to his face and pressed a soft kiss against it. 

One moment, the orb was still.

The next, it had burst in a flash of light that blinded everyone in the Batcave, and then a thin, injured teenager had fallen into Duke’s lap. 

Hands immediately grab him, pulling him away from Duke. The teenager puts up no fight, eyes barely open, but he reaches for Duke weakly. On his wrist is the bright blue snowflake, the color strong and vivid. 

“That’s me soulmate,” Duke whispers as he watches Bruce and Tim set the boy down on another medical cot. 

“What?” Tim says, turning to face Duke, concern clear on his face. 

“That’s my soulmate,” he repeats, louder. Then, panicked, he pulls up his shirt enough to see his own soulmark; the color is still dull, weak, barely there, but it’s more blue that it has been in a while. He doesn’t need to say anything. Tim sees the dullness of his soulmark, looks at the boy, and puts the pieces together on his own.

“I’ll call Doc Thompkins,” he says, already moving to fix everything. Bruce remains where he is, making sure the boy is tucked in and breathing steadily before he returns to Duke. 

“Are you alright?”

Duke swallows roughly, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy. He’s pale and thin, as if he’d been starved, and there’s frost beginning to spread on the bedsheet from his fingers. “He’s my soulmate,” Duke manages to say. “He’s been dying for two years.”

Bruce’s eyes a hard, a determined light in them. “We’ll save him,” he promises. 

If anyone can, it’s Batman. 

If anyone can, it’s them, Batman and the Signal, and their entire network of family and friends. 

Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die all this time. Now, he’s going to save him.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #i dont really know much abt jld so they are not really in here #just duke trying to live his life and have a nice day with bruce #when his soul mate gets thrown at him in the form of an ORB #(ghost core but they dont know that yet) #dannys gonna have to answer so many questions once hes awake bc not many know abt realms beings #its gonna be rough for him bc he's been asleep for 2 years in his core bc he was never safe enough to recover #until duke gave him a boost (plus the power of soulmates really helped him) and he woke up #in a cave with his soulmate and a whole crew of superheroes #what a thing to open ur eyes to. rip danny lol #thanks for the prompt!

[mostly-imagines]

Guard Dog vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s gf pt. II

3 in 1 blurbs

warnings: mild standard gotham violence, in the 3rd section: attempted sexual assault and panicky thoughts afterwards from reader

“Sweetheart, this is…not good.”

You turn your head over to him, where he’s frowning, hands on his hips as he inspects your bedroom window.

You tilt your head, looking it over from your place on the couch. “What’s wrong with it?”

He sighs, “Well for one, the lock is broken. But even if it weren’t, this thing would be so easy to break.”

“It’s the lock the place came with.” You shrug. At least it has a lock. In Gotham that’s kind of asking a lot.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He frowns at the window once again, moving over to stand behind the couch. “I’m getting you better locks.” He looks to you, “I can install them tomorrow?”

You tilt your head up to look at him, “You don’t need to get me new locks, Jay…”

“Okay.” He kisses your head, “I’m getting them.”

You sigh in defeat, though your smile makes it lose its credibility. “Tomorrow’s fine. I assume you’re staying the night, then?”

He makes his way to the kitchen as he says, “Well, I’m not leaving you alone here with this piece of shit the only thing between you and Gotham.”

“I’ve lived here for two years.” You say flatly.

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbles as he moves behind the counter. “Actually, your door chain’s broken too, isn’t it?” It is, but that’s his own fault.

You had a long day a couple weeks ago and had a very long, very hot shower the second you got home. Unfortunately, it had slipped your mind to text him that you were home safe and he’d broken through the chain in one try to make sure you were okay.

You hum, “It wasn’t doing much anyways.” Clearly.

He grimaces as he heats up the stove for dinner.

You laugh lightly, “What?”

He looks back at you with a frankly adorable frown, “I don’t like that.”

You’d never thought much of it. You hadn’t had any—well, many—problems living here before, and you still had your deadbolt and handle lock.

“It’s okay. I’m safe here.”

He looks like he strongly disagrees. He comes back over, sitting next to you, taking your face in his hands. “Will you please let me set up some security measures around here?”

“Did Jason Todd just say please?” You say in faux-shock.

He rolls his eyes at you, “I’m serious.”

You sigh, contemplatively. “I don’t want my apartment looking like the Home Alone set.”

He laughs at that, “It’s not going to. You won’t even notice most of them. Just do it for me, please?”

“I’ll agree, but only because I know you’re going to do it anyways and I’d like to pretend I have control over this.” That’s not true, you’d agree to literally anything if he said please that sweetly again, but that’s your business.

“Fair enough.” He smiles, kissing your cheek.

No, it’s not fair at all.

It’s late. You’re not even sure how late but the city has calmed from its usual noises, indicating that your boyfriend will be home soon.

You’re coming up heavy on cramps tonight and according to the mockingly empty spot in your medicine cabinet, you’re out of ibuprofen. Yeah, it’s late, but the store on the corner is a three minute walk and fuck your stomach hurts. Jason wouldn’t like it if you went out without telling him though, so maybe you should wait until—

The sound of the living room window sliding open breaks you away from your thoughts, followed by a clatter of something hitting the ground.

You walk back into the dimly lit room, finding your boyfriend sliding the window shut again, holsters abandoned on the ground. He turns and collapses onto the couch face first, body immediately gone limp.

“Hey, baby.” You bite back a laugh, coming over to rub his muscled back from behind the couch. He groans into the cushion in response. “Why don’t you go get in bed?”

He hums almost imperceptibly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes roughly with his palms.

He stands and takes your hand in his as he passes by, tugging you towards the bedroom. The deep ache in your abdomen reminds you of your earlier train of thought. You pull your hand back, stopping in your tracks.

He turns back to you with a frown, wanting to know what could possibly be getting in his way of falling asleep, holding you close.

“I gotta go pick up some ibuprofen. I’ll be right back.” You say quietly, not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night for him. His frown deepens as you head towards the door, watching you.

You’ve got your purse in hand and are reaching for the handle when you hear his footsteps following in suit. “Hey, it’s okay. Stay here, I’m just going to the 24 hour store on the corner.”

He shakes his head, “You’re not going out in Gotham alone at two in the morning. Put your coat on, it’s cold.”

You do as you’re told, shrugging the coat on as you glance over at him. “Jason, it’s okay. You’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

He ignores you, throwing a sweatshirt on to cover up his armor, and follows you out the door; albeit far more sluggish than usual.

He was right though, the night air is bitter and slaps your face with every step forward you take. He lingers a few steps behind you, honest to god almost falling asleep mid step a couple times.

Frankly, you’re not even sure what kind of fight he’d be able to put up in this state. Though, he’s surprised you plenty of times before. In any case, his head snaps up every time there’s any sign of movement around, instantly on alert.

He trails behind you as you browse through the narrow aisles, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt.

As you’re standing at the store counter paying, his neck is craned forward, resting on your shoulder. You rub soothing circles into his hand with your thumb, though you’re sure it’s not doing anything to help his exhaustion.

You’re walking back home, the bite of the air a bit more forgiving in this direction. There’s another man walking down the sidewalk approaching, hands in pocket.

Jason’s too tired to bother with subtlety, glaring directly at the passerby before he could even think of trying anything. And it works, because the guy averts his gaze real quick and speeds up past you.

He continues working at his post from just behind you all the way until you’re back inside your apartment.

He takes the medicine container out of his pocket and cracks it open for you, wordlessly filling up a glass of water after. You gulp down a couple of the pills, and he takes the glass and bottle out of your hand the second you’re done, setting them on the counter.

He turns to you, eyes barely open, mumbling, “Can we sleep now?”

You smile at his fatigued state and take his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

Your neighbor likes you. You know it, Jason knows it.

The worst he’d done was flirt with you, badly, and shut his mouth real quick whenever your boyfriend emerged from your apartment.

And Jason let that go; he knows better than anybody that you’re heavenly and sweet and clever, of course this fucking guy likes you. Jason set an unspoken rule with himself, that he won’t get violent with any guys unless they put their hands on you. Something he knows for absolute fact your neighbor has not done.

At least he hadn’t until a couple of hours ago. You’d been in the hallway at the mailslots, your boyfriend nowhere in sight, when he decided it was the perfect time to make a move. Make several moves, actually.

You’re sitting on the couch, knees to chest, still trying to wrap your mind wround what had happened when Jason sees you. You stopped crying a while ago and you’ve entered the phase of…well. That happened.

Your hear keys jingling outside the door, followed by your boyfriend's entrance. He’s carrying some grocery bags and has a book tucked under his chin.

He lets the bags slide off his arms, and sets the book on the counter with them, beaming, “You’re never gonna guess what b—“ His smile drops when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, “Nothing.” But your blinking feels off all of a sudden, and you can’t remember what you usually do with your face when you’re not lying. It doesn’t matter though, you could be an academy award winning actress and you’re still sure Jason would be able to see right through you with a single glance.

He frowns, “Don’t lie to me.” He moves towards you, kneeling down in front of you. “Please. What’s wrong?” His eyes are pleading now, already worried.

You don’t want him to worry about this. He already worries about you too much and he’s got all his vigilante stuff and…you just want to believe that this is a manageable situation and not a problem. Not something that affected you.

“It’s just…it’s not a big deal, okay? I can handle it—”

His posture stiffens and his voice suddenly goes low and serious, “What happened?”

You know where this is going. “Jason. Promise me you won’t do anything.”

His brow furrows, and his frown turns to something closer to anger. “Did someone put their hands on you? Who?”

“Jason—”

“Who did it?”

“The neighbor, b—” he immediately snaps to a stand and starts towards the door. You hurry to grab onto his hand before he can escape your proximity, “Jason. Please don’t.”

The break in your voice is enough to make his rage falter and turn back around to face you.

“Baby, if he touched you—” His eyes are pleading, begging you to let him go take care of this. If not for you, then for him.

“It wasn’t—he didn’t do anything. He didn’t get to. I hit him and he backed off.” Which is…sort of true.

He stares at you. “In the hallway?”

You blink. “…Yeah?”

He takes off towards the bedroom wordlessly. You follow quickly on his tail, watching him sit on the edge of your bed, opening his computer and clicking through it quickly.

You slide over next to him, and see that he's pulling up a file under the name of your building and today’s date. It takes you two seconds too long to realize what he’s doing, the thought only sinking in right as you see the hallway security camera footage on the screen.

“Jason—” you try to close the computer but he bats your hand away.

He forwards through the footage, as you scramble trying and failing to reach past him, various building occupants coming in and out of frame rapidly.

“—please just listen to me.” But he did listen to you, and he heard that someone tried to hurt you. That was all he needed to hear.

He stops when he sees you enter the frame, watching closely. He sees you flipping through the mail. He sees your neighbor slither out of his apartment and stand far too close to you. You take a step back only to be met with two steps forward by him. He says something to you, probably asking where your boyfriend is.

The angle doesn’t show his face, but it does see yours, and you look incredibly uncomfortable. You don’t answer him, which evidently was enough of an answer in itself.

Your neighbor tries to brush some of your hair out of your face but you snap your head away, stumbling back a little. He uses your lack of balance as an “excuse” to grab onto your waist, pulling you close to him.

Your hands are out in front of you and you’re shaking your head as he pushes towards you. His lips land on your neck and you try to move backwards, but he grabs your wrists and holds you in place.

You fight against his grip, and upon realizing that your struggling doesn’t matter to him at all, you dig your nails into his wrists so hard you draw blood. He groans in pain and his grip on you loosens.

You snap your hands away and push yourself away, locking yourself in your apartment. Your neighbor lingers for a moment, shouting something at the door before trudging back into his apartment and slamming the door.

Jason snaps the laptop shut, coming to a stand once again. His fists clinch at his sides. “That was not nothing.”

No, it wasn’t. But you feel so helpless right now. You sure as hell felt it in the hallway, and it keeps lingering in you and you’re not sure why. You couldn’t do anything then, you can’t do anything now…it feels like all the bad things in the world are closing in on you and you just have to let it happen.

“I…I don’t want anyone to die because of me…” your words aren’t quite matching your thoughts, but this is the closest you can get right now.

He pulls back to look at you, brows furrowed. “It’s—it’s not because of you. It’s because of him. Baby, if I were on patrol and saw him grab some other girl like that I’d do the same thing.”

You know that. You know that. But communication seems impossible right now even though it’s the only tool you have to stop things from closing in.

“No, I know that. I know…it’s just…” Things are closing in anyways. Alright, this is happening now. Your eyes start watering and your voice trembles.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand flies to the back of your head, other arm wrapping around your middle, pulling you to him.

You feel a bit silly, crying over the potential death of someone who tried to hurt you, in front of the Red Hood of all people.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know. It’s—it’s too many bad things. I can’t…”

“Okay. Okay. It’s okay. I’ll stay here. I’m staying here with you, okay?” You nod into his chest, tears dampening his shirt.

This is a temporary solution, you know that even now. But you think once it expires, it might be easier to accept whatever Jason’s going to do later.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, holding you in his arms as you sway back and forth lightly.

“Will you forgive me if I kill him?” He whispers into your hair.

You roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. “Don’t.”

“Is that a yes?”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, face setting. “I’m getting the feeling you’re going to do something regardless of how this conversation ends.” He says nothing. “Just, please, don’t kill him.”

He holds you tighter and you do the same, laying your head against his chest again. You feel him press a kiss to your head as he takes a deep breath.

You think on it for a moment, figuring it needs saying, “And don’t get in trouble.”

Your neighbor comes home late that night, trudging through the front door with a perpetual frown. He opens the door to his notably unlocked apartment. He drops his bag on the ground with a thump and flicks on the lamp next to the door. He shuts the door and turns the lock when the red elephant in the room pipes up.

“Hey, bud.”

He jumps, spinning around, “Who the fuck—oh, shit.” He freezes the second he sees him, sitting in the armchair across the room. The Red Hood nods, loading the gun in his hand.

Your neighbor stutters, “What—what are you doing here?”

He looks up at him, cocking the gun. “You put your hands on your neighbor, yeah?”

He looks fake-shocked at the accusation. “What? No, I would ne—which neighbor?”

He can’t see it, but Hood’s face drops into a deadpan. “That is really not helping your case.”

Your neighbor eyes the gun nervously.

Hood sighs, “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve been told it’s bad manners to execute someone the first time you meet.” He glances down the nail marks on his arm and steals his jaw. “No. What’s going to happen is you’re going to break your lease and move out. Within the next week.”

The neighbors eyes widen, “A week? Are you insane?”

Hood tilts his head a bit before shaking it, “Nah, you’re right. By tomorrow night.”

“This is my apartment. I live here, I’m not going anywhere. And unless you’re secretly Saul the landlord under there, you can’t do anything about it.” He crosses his arms, clearly feeling very proud of himself. Well, killing him isn’t the only option, is it?

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” Hood clocks him hard on the head with the frame of his gun. He goes down quickly and loudly, clutching his head, groaning. “The alternative is getting beaten half to death and hoping whatever hospital you end up at knows what they’re doing.”

Honestly, neighbor boy is pressing his luck as is. Maybe it was a bad idea for Jason to bring the gun.

“Fuck! Fine! I’ll go!” He wails.

Hood kicks his abdomen with the side of his boot, though not nearly as hard as he wanted to. “Shut up. You’ll disturb the neighbors.”

The neighbor groans again, quieter. He mumbles something about Hood being crazy but it gets lost under the grunts of pain.

Hood crouches down next to him, patting him on the head with the barrel of his gun. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ll check up on you. And if I ever see you so much as look in the general direction of another girl I’ll put a bullet in your head. Sound good?”

Your former neighbor drops his head to the ground, hand still clutching the growing swell on his forehead.

#these are all wildly different lengths my b #jason todd loves his gf #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd/you #jason todd/reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction

[peachesofteal]

ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes

It’s the sundress. 

The way it flows off your hips, your body moving beneath it, skin glowing just under the hem. You're lucent in it, radiant in a way he's never seen, brilliance so stunning it catches his breath. You’re a perfect peach, juicy and ripe, plump and sumptuous, skin so soft he’d only need a nip to tear into it, the barest bruise of pressure allowing him to drink his fill of precious honeyed nectar. 

There are dozens of people in the café, but he only sees you, can’t tear his gaze away, sick with the heavy tug in his heart, drawing him closer and closer, fingers tense around the flimsy paper cup. He stares, openly, even after Simon clears his throat, scuffs his foot against the sidewalk, says his name. 

Johnny has no patience for a kill, or a meal. He likes to rip into fresh things, soak his maw and stretch his jaw around them, swallow them whole if he can.

Swallow you whole, if he can.

A bead of sweat collects at the back of your neck, and he traces its path between your shoulder blades and below, mouth watering at the singular thought of a taste. 

His tongue licking down your spine to the cleft of your arse, soft, sweet skin parted for him, face crammed between your legs, panting, pushing, desperate for more, and more, and- 

“Johnny.”  

“Pretty thing.” He barely looks at his partner, the heat simmering in his stomach curling into a snare. “Little pocket a’ sunshine.” 

“Johnny.” 

“Ye see ‘er?” Simon’s eyes dig into him, and then you, following the seam of your dress from thigh to shoulder. There’s insatiable insanity in his face, and Johnny knows- 

He sees it too. 

“I do.” 

“Ye dinnae want a taste?” 

“Not enough time.” He nods next door, where the darkness looms, waits for them expectantly. A meeting, a negotiation, a riotous push and pull. The things he’s good at, the part of his job that doesn’t include intimidating or killing or orchestrating a disturbance. 

His hands sow choreographed chaos, but in this moment, he’d rather they do something else instead. 

Pin you down. Pry your thighs wide. Bury his face in your cunt. Would you struggle? Would you cry? Would you take it like a good girl, breathy and sweet, lips shocked into a perfect O for his thumb, pad of it pressed down on your tongue, taste- 

“Better think fast.” Simon warns, jolting him from the fantasy that has his cock swelling, and when he sees you heading for the door, dreamy smile on your face, iced latte precarious in your grip, a plan roars to life. 

It’s easy, to pretend it’s an accident. Easy to act shocked and embarrassed. Easy, to feel terrible about ruining your dress. 

Your gasp is music to his ears. 

“Oh my god-“ it’s almost too much, watching the crushing realization sink in across your features, the dismay at the sight of your newly acquired caffeine fix rushing down the front of your sunflower dotted dress. 

They’ll buy you a new one. They’ll buy you hundreds. 

“’m so sorry.” He croons, reaching to steady you, carefully gripping your elbow under the guise of balance. “Ah, bonnie. ‘m so sorry, I didnae see ye and I was rushin’.” 

“It’s… it’s okay.” You’re blinking too fast, trying to hold back tears, trying to keep yourself together. The patchwork, the glue and tape, parts and pieces easily crumble, even as you try to take a deep breath. “I’m… it’s fine.” 

“Yer dress is ruined.” Obviously. “Let me pay to get it cleaned, at least.” 

“No, no… that’s… it’s okay. I’ll… I’ll just run home, no big deal.” He beats back the burn, the wildfire scorching away the last of his sanity. 

“Please.” Simon chimes in over his shoulder. “It’s the least we can do.” You look between them, confused, eyes wide like a little doe, lost all alone in the deep, dark forest.

Flanked by wolves.

“Or let us give ye a ride to yer place, so ye can change.” He jerks his head to the sleek black sedan, idling at the corner, driver still behind the wheel. The meeting can wait, they've got more pressing issues to attend, now. 

“Oh… uh-“ He can smell the rot of your hesitance. That’s the thing about a doe, they’re naturally skittish, trembling legs uneasy from the day they were born, nervous about their own shadow. “It’s fine, I can walk. It’s not far.” 

“I feel terrible, let me pay for it.” He pours it thick, and as expected, the guilt about making him feel worse locks into place. “I dinnae what I’ll do if we cannae help. If ye give me yer number, we can arrange to cover the cleaners?” Simon looms closer, fingers folding over Johnny's shoulder in an affectionate gesture.

You almost look relieved at the sight.

Poor little doe. 

In the end, you agree. When you give them your name, he traces over each syllable tenderly, memorizing the way it sounds on your lips, as Simon taps a phone number into your contacts.

"Ye go straight home an' change." Johnny murmurs, holding onto your hand a shade too long after you pass him back his phone. "Dinnae want ye walkin' around in a dirty dress all afternoon." You fidget, waxing crescent on your lips, and nod.

"I'll uh... I'll let you know how much it is." There's a hint of a tremble in the back of your throat, off key and off kilter, and he smiles to reassure you, before the two of them turn to take their leave.

"We'll talk to ye soon."

#peaches writes #ghoap x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #I wrote this on my phone so #mind the mistakes

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny no longer has a haunt. So… he decides to find another one. And while he technically has a whole world (other dimensions aren’t an option because he’s going to stay near where Jazz’s grave is, damn it) there’s only a couple of other places with enough ambient ectoplasm to sustain him. Nanda Parbat, Tokyo, and Gotham.

Nanda Parbat had a weird old musty immortal that kept trying to summon him and exchange power for the ability to “take a worthy body and rain as much destruction” as he’d like. As if Danny would need a body to bring the world to its knees.

Tokyo… it’s too far from Jazz’s grave. He could ask Wulf or even open his own portal but when Danny tried it out, Tokyo was too peaceful. Obviously there’s crime, but nothing… nothing big like Danny’s used to.

Danny ends up picking Gotham, even if the sewer zombies and the weird group of rich fruit loops with an adoption problem creeps him out. So, he destroys the portal, packs up his parents’ house and sells it, and hauls ass to the cesspool calling his name. His family’s stuff is stored respectfully in a vault located on the deepest parts of his personal haunt in the Infinite Realms.

And honestly, he’s doing better. Sure, he’s got a shitty apartment near another revenant’s almost-haunt and he feels like he’s drowning all of the time, but Danny isn’t in danger of turning into Dan, he’s catching up on royal paperwork, and he’s got like a job as a barista. In his own coffee shop that paid for using his parent’s money (who, despite their hazardous everything, made a crap ton of money off of their more normal inventions).

Gotham’s got some pretty interesting local gangs, most of which respected the sanctity of Danny’s cafe. Sure, they tried blowing it up and tried extorting money from him in the form of “protection costs” but after three months of failure, they gave up.

(Really, the local gangs gave up when they saw him take three shotgun shells to the chest and continued to work.) (They didn’t know it never hit him. Intangibility is extremely useful.)

The Rogues, on the other hand, just gave Danny flashbacks. Their gimmicks are different, sure, but after years of Box Ghost, Skuller, Lunch Lady, etc., Danny’s more than done with costumed villains. They don’t bother him either. Some of the reason is probably due to Harley and Ivy, who had walked into the cafe and (because they were bruised and scratched up from a fight) triggered Danny’s mother hen tendencies. They were promptly fed and watered and caffeinated and their hyenas were also similarly taken care of. They declared the cafe under their protection and that was that.

Red Hood stops by, and begins to interrogate him. But when Danny met his… helmet eyes? The crime lord paused, paid for his coffee, and sat in a corner table of the cafe for the rest of the day.

And he kept coming back?

But Danny figures it’s because Hood was a revenant and people who had come close to death tends to feel more comfortable around him.

(Considering this is Gotham where people almost die every other day? Yeah, he’s pretty much friends with everyone. Or at least, less likely to get shot.)

(Hood does stay because of the King’s presence and the Pit calming itself, but also Danny’s hot and he’s got a sleeper build and Hood definitely did not imagine himself in the place of the heavy box he saw Danny lift effortlessly onto a table. No.)

But of course, the peace couldn’t last forever. But by then, Danny was so antsy, he welcomed the trouble with open arms.

It starts with a clown. Danny knows who he is. He knows who Danny is.

So, Danny has no idea why the clown thought it would be a good idea to aggravate the owner of Gotham’s official neutral grounds. See, Clovkwork? Danny’s learned how to gauge his own political importance!

“HAHAHAHAHA! COME OUT, DANNY-BOY! LET ME TELL YOU A JOKE!”

Danny comes out and grabs a chair, and with a flat expression, says, “you’re not funny and I hate clowns.”

And then he swings and slams the chair into the Joker’s face. Over and over again until Danny’s sure the clown won’t get back up. The thing about Gotham’s outdoor chairs is that they’re mad out of steel and are bolted down to the ground to prevent undedicated thieves (dedicated thieves can and will steal the bolted down steel chairs). The Joker’s hired muscle just watched this scrawny twenty-something year old yank the steel chair and take some of the fucking ground and the bolts with it and beat the fuck out of their boss who is the literal Joker.

They surrender on the spot and is taken to jail. Danny just smiles at the officers who come by and since he’s got pretty privilege and they don’t want to mess with the guy who, again, owns one of Gotham’s official neutral ground and also beat up Joker without breaking a sweat, the officers just lets him go with a warning.

And then the bats comes, and wow, Danny’s playing mentor to a formally dead person again!

But before that, the Red Hood asks for an autograph on the Gotham Gazette article with a picture of a tired Danny standing over Joker’s prone body. Then Hood stammers through asking Danny out (which Danny said yes to because he’s tired, not blind, and Hood is built like a brick house and HOT).

Batman interrogates him. Danny, who can tell that this man needs therapy and is Sad TM, tells Bats that Danny’s died before and that’s why he’s like this. He also calls Batman a furry, but like in a nice way. And then he kicks Batman out with a coffee and a file on Nanda Parbat.

Now, Danny’s got a date to prepare for and he realizes that maybe this is what Jazz wanted for him- to be happy and mostly safe and happy. (Or, happier, he thinks. It’s been a long time since he’s been truly happy, but this might be a good start)

#bamf danny phantom #danny phantom #dc x dp #jason todd #Jason takes him to a library and they pick out books for each other #Danny asks him on a second date and they talk about the book over coffee #and then they watch the stars (Danny uses his ghost powers to clear a patch of sky) #but Danny just kind of watches Jason’s face and goes yeah this is just as good #Danny dngasf #Danny will throw hands with a clown #Danny thinks the Gotham Rogues are kinda cute #with their gimmicks #unimpressed bc they’re kind of obvious #and he’s seen worse and better #danny is Gotham’s Mom Friend

[iamthescalesofjustice]

working on an au in which, due to isoldes pettiness and cruelty being cranked up by 40ish percent, alistair will run away and eventually grow up to be a rogue

#eamon sweating as he desperately attempts to explain away the slowly-escalating pattern of abuse as 'a prank war that got out of hand' #meanwhile waiting in the wings are like 2 servants still on staff and 3 that were dismissed for attempting to intervene #and guess what they have? if you guessed some particularly incriminating letters you are correct #you win: 3 silver; a cool rock; a mid-tier frost resistance rune; tickets to the execution of gell lendon; & an avvar-to-common phrasebook #its about knowing that what is being done to you isnt right its about having other people confirm it for you and try to support you #in their limited capacity to do so and be punished for it its about it being just that much worse and that much more blatant and no longer #being able to push it down and laugh it off and pretend its not like that its about fighting back in your own limited capacity to do so #and it getting so much worse in response its about dreaming of getting out of here its about having a plan and working towards something #better or at least different and the drive to get good enough to make it there and to get through this when youve given up on the situation #here getting any better in any meaningful way and its also about going a bit scorchedearth #its also about one (1) panicking fade-y godparent who just wanted to halp this kid who was hurting so much

[floorpancakes]

having another existential crisis again aha

#i went off on one on twitter but #the be all and end all of it is FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK #anyway im completely useless and any chance of achieving my dream is bullshit #at least theres snow miku #if i win snow miku things might get better #or one of the contests monthly #theres more contests coming up too #i just #gotta win #this is kinda my only outlet to success and ive failed over a year in a row to even enter until last month #bruh #being a designer is one of those skills where #technically people want an artist or a sewing expert or a pattern maker or someone whos got a really big other skill #or theyre rich or popular enough to commisison someone else to do the art for their designs #as a skill on its own noone really cares and they never will #im so passionate about it but my health and the subsequent inability to just work on skills in all this dead space of time is #well #it makes me feel like i have no chance to begin with and im an idiot for trying and wanting for my dream #i can't give up but that makes the reality hurt even more #it has to work out somehow right?? (((he is well aware that this is copium and he will die pathetic and alone with no legacy to speak of)) #the same goes for heart render too since its tied to my abilities to write and draw and bring attention to the story and characters but #its hard to describe my heart wants heart render at least to be my legacy but in the long term designing is my dream #and those two things are deepky connected #sigh Better Win Snow Miku Then #i wish fate wasnt this cruel and i knew what i wanted already during the years i made all those life decisions and was able to learn skills #when i was growing up and stuff #even when it comes to holic i wish i wasnt so dense that i didnt realise design was something that connected me to the series even #its kinda always been design #i remember when i was 18 and i went to a museum for my birthday a curator offered to hook me up with the email of a designer i loved #i didnt hear him cause of the echo and my hearing disability and i said nono i wont chase after him and ask again cause i was too anxious