#and really they're doing their best and i'm doing my best and it's nobody fault it's just there's a lot of varying communication via text

[songofwizardry]

i like organising things but what i do not like is the experience of trying to run something that requires input from like three different lots of people on four different groups all of whom i communicate with via text when the other lot of people has asked me for something, always after 8pm at night, and always (no matter how serious the matter actually is) all these conversations take on some varying tone of urgency in my brain bc if they do not answer or we don't have a decision before i go to bed nothing will get done until i am back from work the next day at 5pm. truly most annoying experience.

[starry-bi-sky]

Childhood Friends Danny and Jason

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They... sort it out eventually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The wriggly protective thing settles in his chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce refuses, his face full of grief.

Danny never returns to Gotham.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It was the Joker." Jason says.

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

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

Not died. Killed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not Dick?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————

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

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

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

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

Tim responds quickly, and his message sends.

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

Dick: they are funny

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

Tim: hey Jason are you not gonna say anything?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason: that’s danny?

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

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

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

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

Tim: how would you know that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He misses Jason. He misses Jason.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s already begun to move towards the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowns. And says nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[yandere--stuck]

If you're still taking requests, would you be able to do something again with Arkhamverse Joker?? (Or even Scarecrow, ANYTHING with that skinny lil horror boy please) I love ALL of your Batman work.

Just give me anything, I'm starving for some dark and creepy batvillians.

“Alright, sweetheart, just tell me who did it,” The Joker cooed from behind you, his hands resting at the plush blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

Both you and The Clown stood in front of the maw of the Sionis Steel Mill. You hadn't been outside in so long. The thought of making a run for it flitted through your mind, but you just as quickly discarded it. Joker was holding you pretty tight, but even if you broke free from his grip, presented before you was a line of Joker's men desperate to do anything to gain their boss's favor. And even if you made it through all that, you were smack dab in the middle of Arkham City. If the elements or starvation didn't get to you first, it'd be the other inmates - especially if they had gotten any inkling you might be precious to The Clown Prince of Crime.

Somehow, beyond all odds, you were the most safe in the arms of Gotham's most dangerous criminal.

Even with the multiple layers covering you, the wind cut through you like a blade. You'd been dressed in specially made pajamas the Joker commissioned, layers of winter clothing, and a large blanket he'd wrapped you up in before escorting you outside. And it made looking upon Joker's gang all the more uncomfortable. 

Compared to you, Joker's men wore precious little. Tank tops or sleeveless hoodies, some wearing no top at all, old worn pants, and their very own clown masks. You couldn't see their eyes, but you imagined that behind their masks, they glowered at you. Why wouldn't they hate you? After all, you were why they were freezing out here. Their boss had given them orders to never, under any circumstances, allow any harm to be brought unto you.

And then, Joker found the bruises.

“I don't want to get anyone in trouble,” You insisted, craving your neck to attempt eye contact with The Joker.

“Nobody's in trouble,” The Clown nuzzled you, voice almost a purr. “I just want to know who did it.”

You bit your lip. Something burned and swirled like a whirlpool in your stomach, rising to your chest. “It was my fault. I bumped into something.”

“Darling, it's okay. I'm not mad. Just point ‘em out for me.”

Your lips quivered and you screed your eyes shut. Burying your face in your hands, your whole body shook. You couldn't do this. You didn't want to. Sure, the guy roughed you up, but at least he didn't fucking kill you. And maybe whoever did it was a criminal at best or monster at worst, but you didn't want someone to die at the hands of The Joker because of you. You weren't supposed to be here. You were supposed to be in Gotham proper, living your ordinary life and not in Joker's base. You weren't supposed to be the object of Joker's obsession. You shouldn't have had to be transported around by goons, goons who were already frustrated and pissed as it was, and only exacerbated by their boss’ obsession with you and threatening them if he even thinks they're looking at you.

God, why was this happening to you? You just want to go home! You couldn't even scream, couldn't even cry, not now, not like this-

One hand released its grip on your shoulder to press against your back and brush soothing circles against you.

“Honey, baby, sweetie-darling, there's no reason to be upset!” Joker hushed. “You're not in any trouble. I'm not mad. I just want to know."

Still shaking, you dared to turn and meet the Clown's gaze. Puffing out a cloudy mist in the icy cold air, you ventured, “You promise you're not angry?”

The Joker beamed, holding up a hand. “Scout's honor!”

The both of you stared at each other for a long moment. His pupils were dilated, acidic green eyes nearly swallowed up by his dilated pupils. He stared back at you with utter adoration. 

Really, him being angry would have been less terrifying.

With a shaky exhale, you nodded. Ripping your eyes from him, you surveyed the crowd. The man in question wasn't hard to find. You knew the mask well. Lime green hair, a red clown nose, red, painted-on cuts and marks across the mask.

He was one of the henchmen ordered to transport you from one part of the base to another. You'd been terrified, shaking, near hyperventilating, and scared stiff to the spot. And he had grabbed you tight enough to bruise and shoved you through the halls, the other goons following behind. Just remembering it lit a spark of fear and anger in your gut. And even still, you hesitated to call him out.

Shivering, you slowly raised a finger to point at him, your digit like a death mark.

“Him,” you breathed out.

“Him?” Joker asked, pointing at the same man.

You nodded. You fought the urge to squeeze your eyes closed as The Joker waved him over.

The masked man approached both of you. You couldn't help but lean further into Joker. You tried to convince yourself it was the cold. He stopped a few feet away, but Joker motioned him even closer, until he was almost right on top of you both.

“This true, Bud?” Joker asked.

The masked man held his tongue for a moment. His whole body seemed tense. And if you had to guess, he was likely glaring daggers at you from behind the mask. And then finally, a soft sigh escaped him, body relaxing as he nodded. 

“Yeah, boss,” he admitted. “It was me.”

“And do you have anything to say to my darling here?”

Your breath caught in your throat as the goon turned directly toward you. You tried to keep totally still. Don't flinch. Don't show fear. You could feel his gaze burn into you. And Joker's grip tightened on your shoulder. Maybe reassuringly. Maybe possessively. 

The masked goon paused, simply staring at you, before he gave a lazy nod. “Yeah. ‘M sorry.”

Huh. That wasn't so bad. Turning to look at Joker you saw him nodding. A relieved smile began to bloom onto your face as you turned back to-

The sound of unfolding metal hit your ears. A gloved hand stretched out and yanking through hair. The stumbling forward of a body and. Your eyes widened as Joker grunted, pocket knife sinking into the man's throat.

He held it there for a moment, looking deep into the eyes of the man behind the mask, before wrenching the knife out. Blood spurted from the man’s neck as he gurgle, clutching his throat. Again, Joker struck, plunging deep into the man's neck and ripping it out. Again. Again. Again. And all you could do was watch, eyes the size of dinner plates and mouth agape in horror.

You finally found the ability to move your body again, and you hunkered down, hiding your eyes with your hands and stumbling back as Joker continued his assault. You shivered and shuddered, beginning to cry. You couldn't see it anymore, but you could hear the sounds of the blade meeting flesh, the desperate and violent gurgles of someone drowning in their own blood, the quick and sharp grunts of Joker as he plunged his knife in and out in and out in and out in and out-

You couldn't tell how long it went on, only that at some point, you couldn't hear anything else besides Joker's shaky breathing and the harsh whistling of the wind. Your hands and cheeks stung from cold and tears.

When you dared to uncover your eyes, The Joker was looking back at you. As if he was waiting for you to see - to see your attacker's head barely connected to his neck, near decapitated. The moment he saw the recognition in your eyes, the man's body was dropped like it was nothing.

"But, but," You stuttered, mouth trying to catch up with your mind. "You said, you said you weren't mad?'

"Not at you, darling," he smiled adoringly. "Never at you."

The Joker pocketed his bloody knife and clapped his hands free, addressing his men. “Now, let that be a lesson for all of you,” the clown leaned over to wrap an arm around your shoulder. You quickly cuddled into his hold (but only because of the cold. Only that and nothing more). Joker finished with a grin, “anyone who hurts my darling gets the same.”

Breathing heavily, your eyes surveyed the reactions of the henchmen. For some reason, you felt torn on how you felt about them. Pitied Joker's treatment of them, but was highly aware of their perspective of you being an obstacle, inconvenience, or even enemy-

You nearly jumped as Joker brought you out of thoughts by a kiss to the cheek. You were quickly turned around, The Joker guiding you inside and nuzzling against your cheek.

“You must be so stressed out, dear! C’mon, let's get warmed up inside and watch some cartoons!"

And when you're both inside, curled up together in a mound of blankets and cartoons playing on the screen, you tried to convince yourself tje obly reason you held him back was out of fear and to keep out the cold.

[eitaababe]

KISS IT BETTER !

ao'nung x metkayina reader.

a/n — sorry guys it's been a reallyyy rough past few days some shit has gone down but here's a lil drabble while i finish a fic 🫶 / also they're like 18 in this for sake of plot !

—

To say you and Ao'nung didn't get along would be an understatement.

You two always argued, no matter how little or how big. From the way your hair was done, to who couldn't hold their breath as long, who was better on an ilu, you name it.

Though, despite you not being able to see eye to eye with him, you were always close with his younger sister. You were attached to the hip ever since children, and you spent practically your whole lives with each other, pretty much growing up together. You also grew close with her family, spending many dinners over at her marui.

So of course, you always had to see her brother.

Tsireya wasn't blind. Pretty much anyone could see the way you two acted around each other. And if they couldn't see it, they could certainly hear it. There wasn't a minute you could be in the same vicinity as each other and not throw insults at each other.

However, nobody really knows how or why you're like that. It's almost as if you were born into the world and just decided to hate each other.

And so you're sitting in between Tsireya's legs, her doing a new hairstyle for your hair and you whining about her brother once more. "I just don't get it," you complained, huffing in annoyance. "He really thinks he can insult me with a face like that! 'You'll never be able to get a boyfriend looking like that, y/n'," you gruffly mimicked, inaccurately impersonating his voice. "As if he's any better! Like you're the one who can't keep a girlfriend. He's projecting, I'm telling you."

Pulling extra tight on a certain braid you yelped, glaring over your shoulder. "Y/n, you seriously have a problem," Tsireya stated, sighing. "I mean if you really hate my brother so much, just don't talk to him. You both are around each other a lot for people who claim to hate each other so much."

"It's not my fault!" You quickly replied. "I swear, he's everywhere. I want to go clear my mind and go for a swim? He's already there. I want to feed the ilus? Apparently he was planning on going on a ride. I want to stop by and have dinner with my best friend? He-"

"Lives there, Y/n. He lives there," Tsireya finished for you. "I'm just saying. He may be my brother, but if he pisses you off that much you don't have to talk to him. He's good at riling people up. Especially you." She commented, finishing your hair and patting your shoulder lightly for you to turn around.

"He could piss anyone off with the things he says," You grumbled, shoulders drooping when you fell under Tsireya's disapproving gaze. "Fine. I'll try to not let him get to me. Starting now."

"Oh that's lovely, because he's right behind you."

"What-"

"Hi sister," he paused, eyes glancing to you in distaste. "Y/n."

"Ao'nung." You acknowledged him blandly, trying to take your friend's advice and not be disturbed by his mere presence.

"Mother wants you home for dinner," He continued, letting out a sigh before going on. "They invited you too." He finished, not sparring a glance your way before turning around and walking back.

"That went better than expected." Tsireya grinned, grabbing your arm and taking you to her own marui.

"Wait until dinner."

Dinner was going better than expected. You and Ao'nung hadn't argued yet, considering you chose to ignore him and he did the same. Your parents had joined the dinner as well, so you had no other choice but to be respectful.

Your calm nature soon disappeared as you heard the words coming from your parents mouths.

"What?" You exclaimed in disbelief, Tsireya sitting next to you with a shocked expression.

"Really, we think it's for the best."

"No offense or anything, but have you met Ao'nung? I can barely stay in the same room with him, nevertheless spend the rest of my life with him!" You complained, ignoring the stern looks from your parents. "It won't work. Me and Ao'nung, we don't work well together."

"For once, I agree." The boy finally spoke, not looking up from the table.

"Y/n, Ao'nung, I know this is unexpected, but we've all talked about it. You would make a great mate for Ao'nung. We'd like you two to be mated soon before Ao'nung chooses a girl us or the clan would not approve of."

You noticed how his jaw clenched at the comment, yet he stayed silent. You closed your eyes, trying to accept your fate. When you both fell silent, everyone got up and started to exit the room. "We'll give you two some privacy."

You watched as they all left out the marui, turning towards the male. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"It's my mother, I doubt anything I would've said would have made a difference."

"Of course it would! You're her son!"

"You're just so stubborn, aren't you?" Ao'nung suddenly shouted, standing up now. "Thinking you can have everything your way? We have duties, y/n. Grow up."

"Clearly, I'm the only one who's thinking rationally right now! How can you be willing to spend the rest of your life with someone you can't stand?"

"Well like it or not, it's happening. Deal with it, because you're not going to change our parents' minds."

"I can't believe you," you scoffed. "I hope they don't expect me to love you. I can't see who would." You walked out furiously, stomping back towards your own marui.

"Oh, you're one to talk!"

The next few days you two kept your separate ways, but both of you knew your parents wouldn't let it stay like that. They'd practically set up a date for you guys, claiming it's so you could 'settle the feud'.

So you woke up, already in a bad mood, putting minimal effort into getting ready. You headed outside your marui, grumbling what sounded like a farewell to your parents, blood boiling at the sight of the boy who was waiting for you on the beach.

"Y/n." He gruffly greeted you, not meeting your eye.

"Ao'nung." You acknowledged him back, mind drifting back to the other night. Were you too harsh with your words? It was possible you could've gotten caught up in the heat of the moment, and if you were forced to spent the rest of your life with him, you should at least try to be civil.

"...how are you?" You inwardly cringed at yourself, making an awkward attempt to make conversation.

He sent a questioning look your way, realizing what you were doing. He almost wanted to laugh at how out of place you looked. He decided to play along, for whatever reason. "Okay. You?"

"I'm good."

The both of you didn't talk much for the rest of the day, but you didn't argue either, so maybe you were showing signs of improvement. You walked along the beach quietly, the occasional tight-lipped smile, or a hum in response to one of your or his attempts to make some small talk.

Your hangouts usually went like that, you'd greet each other and walk, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. You were too scared to say anything about it, or change the newly made routine, until Ao'nung seemingly had enough.

"Y/n," he sighed out tiredly, stopping and turning to face you fully. "This isn't helping us at all. All we're trying to do is not argue every time we're around each other. We're not fixing anything, hell, we're probably making it worse. Even if we can't love each other, shouldn't we be able to get to know one another?"

You stood silent for a moment, considering his offer. "I hate it when you're right," you deadpanned, dropping the 'nice' act. "It's just so irregular. Why would I want to be stuck with you?"

"Cmon, I struck peace and you're insulting me?" He teased, flashing a rare grin to you.

"Stop smiling, people are gonna start thinking you want to be around me." You told him, walking off.

Ao'nung went after you, chuckling to himself. "I won't make it a habit then!"

To everyone's surprise, you were finally starting to get along. You acted like friends, even if neither of you would necessarily admit it. You were spending your time with Tsireya, deeming you'd spent too much time with her brother.

"I can't believe I actually saw you smiling in the vicinity of Ao'nung." She teased, laughing once you rolled your eyes.

"Oh shut up. We're basically going to be with each other for eternity, we had to stop hating each other at some point."

"He was talking about you the other day at dinner, actually. If I didn't know any better I'd say he's taken a liking to you."

"Absolutely not!" You denied, shaking your head. "We're not like that. Like at all. We're just friends now, okay? We don't see each other that way."

"Whatever you say."

What the two of you didn't notice, however, was that the boy heard the two of you talking, heart slightly sinking. Could you really not tell how he felt?

And oddly enough, he felt even more determined to prove how he did.

To your shock, Ao'nung started making advances towards you during your scheduled hang outs. They were subtle, but you noticed the slight flirting, or how his touch would linger on you longer than usual.

You didn't think much of it however, considering you just went from enemies to friends in the span of maybe two weeks. You were right to do so, when you spotted him with another girl one day.

When you first saw them, you really could've cared less. Ao'nung was popular, and knew many people. If he had friends who were girls, it didn't matter. Everyone knew you were each others promised mates, and the word quickly spread since people knew of your dislike for each other.

You trusted Ao'nung, he was not only your betrothed but your duties were to each other, and he wasn't dumb enough to try and change that.

At least you thought.

Their second interaction, you saw the same girl, Mau. She was a sweet girl, you knew her through Tsireya. You watched quietly from afar as the two talked animatedly, large smiles and their laughter heard from where you stood. You hid behind a smaller palm tree, it's leaves shielding you from their view.

You couldn't quite hear what their conversation was, so you settled for just watching. You were shocked when she pressed a kiss to his cheek, and how he turned purple in response. You denied how you felt your heart drop to your stomach, and deemed that their conversation should be private and hurried to leave.

In the midst of rushing out you accidentally walked right into one of the leaves, your lip getting cut in the process. "Oh, fuck." You cursed underneath your breath, hoping no one could see you leave. You sprinted away to another part of the beach, moving over to the marui near the ilus.

Ao'nung squinted his eyes at the sight of someone running away, thinking it oddly resembled you. A wave of adrenaline quickly hit him when he realized you might have seen Mau, and he jumped up in panic. "I'm so sorry, I have to go." He excused himself, rushing after you.

He found you with the ilus, smiling when he heard you talking nonsense to them. He cleared his throat, "You seriously have got to make some new friends."

You froze at his voice, almost turning around but realizing he'd see the wound on your lip. You stayed in place, back turned to him as you kept feeding the creatures. "Don't be salty I have more friends than you, even if they can't talk."

"In your dreams, hun," He teased, sitting down next to you, confused when you turned away from him. Concerned, and a little scared you saw his previous interaction, his head followed yours, trying to meet your eyes. "What's wrong?"

You pursed your lips, turning around and eyes widening when you realized how close his face was to yours. Afraid of talking and showing him your cut you only shrugged, shaking your head.

"Why are you holding your lips like that?" He questioned, making you hot with panic. "It makes you look even more stupid."

"Oh just shut up." You mumbled, figuring there was no way out of this. You lowered your head, but not before he could see your wound.

"What happened?"

You really just wanted to let the ocean swallow you whole.

"I ran into a tree."

"While eavesdropping?" He laughed, seeing the way your head quickly perked up, the caught look on your face.

"I didn't- I mean-"

"Oh don't worry, I know you were just questioning my loyalty. I mean with a face like this, there's loads of girls after me. Had to break many hearts knowing I was promised to you."

"Keep telling yourself that. And if I was testing your loyalty, you definitely failed. Not that I mind, but who lets other girls kiss them when they're promised to someone else?"

"If you're jealous, just say that," he simply shrugged, smirking at you. "I turned Mau down, by the way. Told her I was already to be mated with another."

"Oh," you couldn't help but let out a breath of relief. "Your parents will be happy to hear that."

Rolling his eyes at your ability to not take a hint, he only sighed. "Yeah, sure."

Ao'nung then refocused on your lips, looking at the cut. "You know, we should really do something about that."

"It doesn't hurt that much."

"You should let me kiss it better."

"What?" You exclaimed, looking at him incredulously.

"You heard me."

Not bothering to hear your response his lips pressed against yours gently, in fear of making the cut any worse. His hand came to rest against your jaw as his lips moved slowly. You felt him smile against you before he quickly pecked your lips again, pulling away with a smug look. "Feel any better?"

"I'm not sure, you might have to kiss it better again."

—

a/n — I FINALLY POSTED AGAIN. WRITERS BLOCK IS A BITCH.

[kvothe-kingkiller]

I'm not the best writer when it comes to writing convincing essays or whatever, but I'm going to give this a go because it's something that I've thought for a long time that I've never seen anyone really acknowledge unless I bring it up first. (also I am sick and don't really want to do much editing here, just rambles, so good luck)

I think that when most (not all, but most) people get salty about 'modern art', they are not salty about the things people think they are salty about. When they say "this isn't art", theres an important bit that they're not articulating. What I think most of them mean is "this isn't art that should be in a museum." "this isn't art that should cost this much" "this isn't art that should be getting this kind of recognition". And there is a huge difference between that and just saying "this isn't art"

Firstly, all of the arguments about why modern art is in fact art straight up....don't apply. They don't address the problem, they don't answer the question. This isn't really anyone's fault per se, given that it is addressing the literal statement, it's just I think most people aren't actually thinking that literal statement.

So then what do they really mean? Like I said, I think they're trying to articulate why they're frustrated that this art is in a museum when "they could do it". So when you say "okay then, you do it" that doesn't address the core issue, which is "but why is this getting recognition for it, and I would get none" because yes, unless they are famous, they would get Zero recognition for it. Nobody would be lining up to buy their art, no one would ask to put it in a museum. Best place they can hope to have this displayed is a fridge door.

When you look at a piece of fine art, most can see the amount of effort put into it. They see how much training it took to get there, they see how much time it took to put those strokes on that canvas and they can go "yeah, that took skill, that took effort, not everyone can do that. it deserves recognition". And a lot of modern art does take skill, it's just skill that isn't easily noticeable to the average viewer, such as rothko's color fields, they do take a lot of skill and effort, you just can't see it if you don't know. But a lot of modern art that people complain about isn't something that has skill that's not recognized, it just requires very little technical skill at all (not a condemnation, btw).

When you're talking about something 'anyone can do' that piece's value is often not a recognition of skill, or even of the message, it's a recognition of a name. It's similar to having a gucci bag because it's a gucci bag, not because you care remotely about the bag. Yes, art isn't displayed because of how much effort went into it, but it's a huge industry that many many people are making money through from sheer name recognition alone.

Like that one painting of that one artist's (I forget which artist and my cursory google isnt finding it, but also its just an example) where it got replicated and sold to a bunch of people for a large amount of money so they could all have something that had a small chance of being a genuine painting by the artist, that's an excellent example of the fact that a lot of the gallery-level art world is Entirely about the name, not about the piece itself. If someone just made that painting but didn't say it could be from the artist, then who cares?

If you go to ringo starr's art website (https://www.ringostarrart.com/) then you can see that some of his work, especially his older work, is of that category of stuff that many people would say "I could do that" to. For instance, these two? 1,400 and 6,000 pounds respectively for a PRINT of these from his website

....okay this one I kinda enjoy.

but still. 2,000 pounds for a print.

All of this is possible because he's ringo fucking starr, he can sell his paintings for whatever he wants. If I tried to sell those for that much, I'd be laughed out of the room. All of it is just clout, it's just how big your name is and how much you can use that as leverage.

This is not to say that other forms of art don't also have this issue, they do, especially with people devaluing creative works so much today. But you could probably get a few commissions if you sell realistic art or do commissions of people's characters, while you Cannot get any money trying to sell stuff like ringos art unless you already have an audience who will buy it.

This does somewhat lead into a discussion of how art curators pick which artists are 'good' somewhat arbitrarily, but that's a whole other post.

Doing art for 'yourself' vs for other people or money is also a whole other post, one which I've actually seen quite a lot on here. But suffice to say if your response to all of this is 'just make art for yourself! Why do you need recognition?' then maybe go find some of those posts. It's not bad to want recognition, and it's not bad to question why that guy is getting much more recognition for the exact same thing you're doing just because he has a bunch of rich friends who are able to host fancy parties and go 'hmm. yes this is good art.' (not that all modern artists had rich friends, but they did almost all get Extremely lucky in some shape or another that led to them now being widely accepted as good artists).

You cannot make a living off modern art unless you're well known, and if you happen to be well known already, you could likely make a living off modern art without having any experience, and that's what a lot of people hate about modern art, even if they don't articulate it. While some would, most wouldn't say "my five year old could do that" to someone's personal piece that they made themselves and hung up in their home, or that their friend made and gave to them. They say that about the pieces bought for thousands of dollars or millions of dollars.

And I don't want people to think that I do hate modern art, I don't (though this is tumblr, so I'm pissing on the poor just by writing this). I don't hate any of the famous modern artists, I don't think modern art isn't art. I do hate the industry that says their art is suddenly worth something just because some rich fuckers somewhere decided they should be, and anything I tried to do in a similar vein, original or not, would be better suited to sit in a coffee shop and continuously marked down and never sold.

So next time you say "so why don't you make it", maybe ask yourself if you would buy it.

[icanseethefuture333]

Random ass question, but what do you think is the best way for a 4/10 girl to become at least a 7 out of 10? I’m aware that “beauty is subjective” but I’m literally below average, 4/10 is being lenient for me lol

How to have confidence in your physical appearance 🎀

First of all sweetie,

let's not rate ourselves on a scale about how pretty we are! It's really degrading and I feel like you deserve so much better than that. Living in a generation where filters are oversaturated, people using AI to edit their photos, and incels with porn addictions and have never felt the touch of a woman, will call the most beautiful girl "mid". It's so understandable why one's self esteem can feel low at times. You need to change the way you talk about yourself (especially me). Beauty always start from within - as redundant as that sounds. You can't feel pretty if you're not focusing on the reason why you feel this way. A pretty soul (and self concept!) makes a prettier face. Moving on, let's get into the actual tips of a glow up 💖

Let's address the elephant in the room 🐘: you're not ugly, just acting pitiful

Have you ever wondered why you have seen those people who are considered "unattractive" or "unconventionallly pretty" by others be in successful relationships or popular with their peers? It's because they have confidence. Have you ever been attracted to someone that may not necessarily fit the beauty standards or be considered a jaw dropping model, but you thought they were cute anyways because of their personality or charm? That's exactly what I mean. You can be a pretty face or have a nice body, but have terrible self esteem. Living in California my whole life I come across this everyday. There is plenty of beautiful people here, but there is also a lot of people with no sense of humor and no offense, but have no personalities. In other words, you can be attractive, but superficial and boring.

To feel beautiful or more like a "10" even on your worst day is mainly having a good self concept. You need to think with the mindset of "I am the baddest bitch even on my worse days and nobody can make me feel different about that, not even me." Our concept can be changed, reshaped, rebuilt, morphed, etc, into any way we want it to be. Our self concept and dominant thoughts are created by our previous past experiences and what people have told us what we are. For example, if you were bullied in your youth and somebody picked on you for your features. Why would you give a fuck about what a bully thinks??? A person who humiliated and traumatized someone at a weak point in their life does not matter. Their opinion, their actions, their thoughts - doesn't matter. You can change yourself anytime you want, we are animals, we are literally mean to be apart of this cycle called life and our habits, attitudes, opinions, etc, can change at any moment. We are meant to grow and adapt. You get to decide who you are, what you feel, and how you wish people to perceive you. Nobody else. So when you repeatedly say things to people like "I'm not beautiful", they're gonna get tired of it honestly and be like "Yk what damn bitch I guess you are ugly!" because it gets tiring to hear someone complain about the same thing even when they just reassured them (again, I'm guilty of this too). So when you depend on someone to make you feel good about yourself, that's just codependency. You are also giving them the power to manipulate you. Don't do that. Be free and be independent, love yourself. It's your self esteem and you cannot be dependent on anybody else to fill that void you have within yourself.

As Katt Williams said, "It's the esteem of your motherfucking self!"

Why it's not your fault you don't 'feel" pretty

Like I said above, you are most likely a product of your surroundings. Most people are not raised by their parents to have good self esteem or to teach them how to be confident or emotionally secure. There are many environmental factors to insecurity and that it is okay if you are never 100% feeling confident about yourself. People in the media construct this ego to seem "cool" and act conceited as a way to avoid being seen as weak to society. You can be confident and also have insecurities. Confidence is just about being secure with the essence of who you are and setting boundaries when necessary with other people when it comes to that. A confident person doesn't tolerate disrespect.

"Conceited" or confident?: how to avoid confusing the two

I think the most irritating thing to me that is normalized these days is narcissism and conceited people. People will literally act boastful and cocky then say "I'm just confident". Behaving like a narcissist or saying that you are one is not cute and never will be because it's literally a personality disorder, a mental health condition. Everytime I hear this it makes me want to roll my eyes so far back into my head. Try to avoid being this person with a "God complex" because there's a difference between a person who is being loud and fake with "confidence". A real confident person makes moves in silence and is genuine with themselves. If you have to brag or put another person down to feel like hot shit, then you're not a confident person, period.

Tips to enhance your beauty

As I said before anon you are already a 10 in my eyes, but I understand how it feels to not feel pretty at times and we all have our days when we are looking "rough". Here are some self care tips I do that helps me feel pretty and pampered physically ✨️

Get some beauty sleep! This is not just a saying. When your body has time to rest it gives you time to reset & have more energy for the next day. Getting plenty of sleep helps prevent dark circles & puffy eyes as well. If you struggle with falling asleep spray lavender pillow spray, drink tea, or play asmr/soothing sounds.

Skincare & hygiene, this is such a crucial step that everyone should practice in their daily lives. All of us have different skin textures and when we neglect our skin it causes a dry, oily, or bumpy surfaces. Now skin texture is totally normal but if you notice the days where you are not washing your face frequently enough, your skin either looks dull, dirty, or you experience more pimples / acne breakouts. Not to mention how dirty we feel when our body is projecting a certain odor. You don't need to have an extravagant routine, but at least try to have about 4 hygienic products (soap, deodorant, lotion, & body spray/prrfume) and 4 skincare products (facial cleanser (I recommend double cleansing!), serum, SPF/Sunscreen, & face lotion).

Mirror work, saying affirmations in the mirror has proven to be helpful for people's self esteem & feeling more confident with their physical appearance.

Change your wardrobe! Start dressing for your body type & how your ideal self would. It might feel uncomfortable at first but you will feel so much more beautiful! You could try finding videos on tiktok of people with your body type to help (for example, if you are plus sized, you could search your desired aesthetic & find people with the same shape as you).

Detox from social media 📱, learn when it is time to take a break from your phone & engage with the real world. Scrolling for hours on your phone can be really harmful especially if you're reading negative comments or watching videos that are self depreciating.

Follow people who uplift you, not tear you down. If you are following people who obviously are negative or affect your self esteem somehow, then you do not need to be supporting them.

Make appointments! Whether that is a doctor appointment or lash, nail, or hair appointments. Take care of your mind, health, and body. You could ask your doctor what vitamins you should take or also seek a counselor/therapist to find the root of your insecurities in a safe place. Also sometimes just getting my hair or nails done makes me feel more confident!

Learn to treat yourself. Buy yourself flowers or a gift you always wanted but never received. This could be anything, it doesn't necessarily mean to spend money. For example, cooking your favorite food, having a lazy day, etc. Remember that you deserve to be happy!

Lastly, beauty spells, glamour magick, and manifestation are popular methods for people who wish to enhance their physical appearance. I do all of these myself and I always feel so hot afterwards!

I hope you found these tips helpful beautiful ♡!

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY KASUMI GOTO *  assorted dialogue from mass effect 2 and 3, adjust as necessary

i swear to god, i didn't touch anything.

in case i don't see you again, thanks. that was a lot of fun.

and the "boxers or briefs" question is finally answered.

there's a certain aura about you. like you've seen things no one else has.

there's no way you're recruiting me to fight in a galactic war.

i wouldn't bring you here if it wasn't dangerous.

this is our stop.

you say the nicest things.

i'm a thief. stealing? it's who i am.

by the way, are you going to call security?

hey, come on. i never get caught.

ugh, i really need to avoid dairy.

you know, twenty years from now, this could be worth a fortune.

all right. i'm in.

nice working with you again.

this place has more money than it knows what to do with.

well... nobody's perfect.

hey, i'm nostalgic, not dead.

i like the seedier towns. they're prettier.

maybe when we're done with the mayhem thing, i could come back and... recover a thing or two.

now stop bothering me!

this is all i have left.

i imagine with all that's happened, old friends are becoming a luxury.

you know what i haven't had in ages? ramen.

come back later. i'm sure i'll have more to talk about.

i'm not really sure what to do with myself.

i'll stay off the grid. no one will know i exist.

well, that didn't go as expected.

we've never seen each other in person.

no one knows what i look like.

if we're lucky, you won't even have to draw your gun.

i always expect trouble. that's why you're here.

we should probably wrap this up.

see you on the ship.

you'd look really out of place at a society party in armor, don't you think?

i was just thinking about you.

i go through everyone's drawers.

[name] won't be able to keep his eyes off you.

getting it back will be easier with your help.

please tell me your password, [name].

good to finally meet you. i'm a fan.

my grandmother used to make the best ramen.

honestly, i'm shocked they didn't come to see me sooner.

it's my fault for being hard to find.

i'm the best thief in the business, not the most famous. need to watch my step to keep it that way.

i needed to make sure all this was legit.

you're the real deal.

even without knowing what you looked like, i knew it was you.

that's a bit of a story.

they were looking for me, so i trailed them to find out why.

i guess it slipped their minds.

i'm planning to get it back.

you'll get a briefing when the time comes.

i have a way in, and i think you're going to love it.

you'll want to look presentable.

you look great. you should wear this stuff more often.

you have been waiting patiently.

they won't hassle you over a sidearm.

you have excellent taste in underwear.

i thought about living here for a while, but everybody's so tight-ass.

it's all about money to these people.

i do what i do for the love of it. these people do it because they don't know any better.

i'm not a scientist.

this is why i don't put strange liquids in my mouth.

it's a plant!

was i that obvious?

people are talking out there... and i hear it all.

sounds like you two had a nice date.

it's nice to be able to look out a window for a change.

how many bedrooms does this place have?

i'm not really lactose intolerant, i just don't put up with lactose's stupid drama.

there's something about the feel of actual paper in your hands.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

One thing that TotK does constantly but really doesn't land for me when compared to BotW is that every NPC loves Zelda so much.

She is the sweetest, and she loves animals and is the very best at them, and she goes to every major landmark to spend time there and also she teaches the people secrets about the lands they have always lived in and they're like woow thanks zelda incredible I'll change my entire ways because you were just SO enlightening (Lurelin + Gerudo Town feeling particularly questionable here for obvious reasons), and she's so wise and beloved and talented --to the point that nobody (beyond the Zora King) even dares to question her actions when she starts acting off.

(Yunobo please stop letting her walk all over you, like it's alarming that you understand she basically brainwashed you and your entire race, and you're still running after her like a lost puppy for an explanation that will surely make everything make sense instead of, like, punting her into the sun? I know it's the eeeevil zelda, but that this situation could even remotely begin to happen feels... so offputting.)

In BotW, the rare mentions of Zelda worked because 1) she was an ancient figure and the modern hylians knew very little about her and would build her up as a legendary figure accordingly, 2) she was literally giving her life for them (I mean she kind of still does here but people do not know that or cannot infer that in any way --which is its own sort of problem), 3) she was extremely hard on herself, felt like a failure and... kind of was one (and she was given shit for it).

(also in BotW we are in a post-Hyrule kingdom world, while here we're living its re-foundation, and so it feels very... convenient that they excavate a previous version of their perfect kingdom to boister up the hylian claim upon the lands also --but that's beyond the topic)

So for anyone to give her grace and compassion in BotW, while a little eyeroll worthy at times, was endearing and made sense. None of this was her fault; she may have extreme power, but she didn't directly yield it --her imperfections the byproduct of a stressful situation every champion was being forced into due to the tides of fate. Also the king was criticized for being a little ruthless and asking too much of his subjects, including his own daughter. There was solidarity between you and everyone else at the same level.

But here? I don't know, it feels like the entire kingdom is terrified that the sheikah secret police will drag them back in the Bottom of the Well if they breathe wrong when talking about their beloved princess, it's so unsettling. I liked BotW Zelda, but... I don't know, I'm literally more comfortable around fake Zelda than the real one. Fake Zelda feels more like a real person that she does.

[ddejavvu]

Hi Mei, how are you? I was wondering if you had the time, could you write something about drunk lovesick eddie? I had the worst week at work & I am exhausted, my body is in pain, & I'm very underappreciated. I need something so tooth rottingly sweet & goofy from my comfort character. I imagine drunk eddie being affectionate to the max! Loving pda & not giving a damn about who's watching. I'll even take headcannons if you're unable to write something longer. Thnx for listening to my rant. ILYSM ❤

I hope this helps, lovely! i'm sorry you've had a shitty week :( get some good rest and i hope you feel better!!! <33

--

A wet, far-too-uncoordinated kiss to your jaw breaks your attention away from where you're sitting around the pool. Steve's under attack from the kids, but it's his fault for giving them water guns. You'd been snickering at his frantic shouts of 'not the hair!', and you hadn't noticed Eddie's hand snaking up your leg.

You look down at him and the stench of beer hits you in waves. It's unpleasant, but Eddie's grin isn't, and the haze in his eyes is gooey and lovesick.

"Hey," He drawls, palm braced on your stomach where he's laying beside you on his deck chair. He's hauled himself up as best as possible to be eye-level with you, but he's still a few inches short.

"Hi," You croon, your own drink, a simple fruit punch, wetting your hand with icy condensation, "You wanna get in?"

You tilt your chin towards the water, but he doesn't even have to glance at it to answer. He shakes his head, leaning over to bury his face in your bare stomach. You feel his teeth close around a pinch of skin and you yelp through a laugh, tugging at his ear to break him away from your tummy.

"No fair," He grumbles, eyes squinting at how the sunlight hits him, "Jus' wanted to- to.. kiss you."

"Kiss with your lips," You brush a hand through his curls, though they're slightly damp and matted from his earlier time in the water, "Not your teeth."

"I think I need a reminder of how to do that," Eddie's eyes fly open again, glossy and dazed as ever, and he reaches for your jaw. He locks his hand firmly around your chin, tugging you down so that you're practically bent in half. Now, though, you're face-to-face, and he puckers his lips expectantly, saliva giving them a glossy sheen.

He closes his eyes, and you find the perfect opportunity. You swap your lips for your glass, pressing the dewy drink against his mouth before he can realize that he can't feel your breath on his face anymore. His eyes shoot open and he shrieks, water dribbling down his cheeks and chin from where it had spilled onto his lips. You practically roar with laughter, and a few heads turn from the pool.

"You little-!" Eddie stammers, fighting the haziness in his brain to move his limbs. He struggles his way up off of your lap, and you give him the perfect opportunity for a tackle with the way you throw your head back and laugh. You feel pressure on your lap and when you open your eyes he's hovering over you, face still dripping wet.

"I wanted a kiss," He reminds you, panting slightly from the exhilaration of the moment, "That was mean."

"That was not mean," You scoff, "That was funny."

"Nobody laughed," Eddie breathes, though you know he's not really mad.

Before you can continue bickering a flash of red hair passes you, and Max drawls, "I did."

[instacarma0798]

Title: the moon will sing a song for me

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Reader (briefish Natasha R x Reader, but not really)

Warnings: None.

{A/N: sorry if Natasha is a little ooc in this one. I hope this is as good as part 1}

Part 1

Things were supposed to be fine between you and Natasha, they were supposed to be fine. Things were fine. You were fine. Natasha was happily married to Maria, and you were happily....you were hapily running backend and doing their paperwork. At first it was difficult to work into a routine while staying at the tower, but it worked.

A few months ago you moved to compound with everyone, but thankfully your routine stayed the same. It was much more spacious in the compound. Tony gave you a bigger room, even though you protested, he claimed, "It's a raise." And raised his hand dismissively.

So yeah, everything was fine.

Right now, you were typing out paperwork after the latest disaster in Lagos. It may have been an accident, and in no way did you blame Wanda, but the paperwork was killing you. Meanwhile, you were pretty sure most of the avengers were out chilling in the main room. You decided to take a break and go check on Wanda.

Peeking into the mainroom, only Clint catching you and sending a small smile, you found no Wanda (and no Tony for that matter, which was odd) so you went to look in her room. You socked feet glided over the floor as you jogged over there before skidding to a halt and letting yourself slide on your socks with a soft laugh. Softly knocking on her door, you could hear television playing inside - the news by the sound of it.

When there was no reply you called out, "Wanda?"

It took a moment before there was a reply, and a hesitant one at that, "Come in."

Carefully you pushed the door open and stepped in. You had never actually been in Wanda's room before, taking in the bookshelf with small trinkets and cluttered desk. Wanda, herself, sat on the large, fluffy, bed. Her legs were sitting criss-crossed as her brown hair fell down past her shoulders. As you stepped closer, hesitating on where to sit, her lips twitched up and her amber-ish green eyes sparkled a little bit. The witch gestured for you to sit on the bed after your obvious hesitation.

You snatched the remote on the way and shut the TV off.

"It's my fault," Wanda spoke first as you sat on the bed, "Turn the TV back on."

"No."

"They're being very specific," her accent laid heavy on her words, it came out more when she was angry.

"It's not all your fault," you shook your head, "there were other's there. And not that I'm blaming him, Rumlow obviously said something to trigger something, but Steve was there first. You did the best you could so it didn't kill everyone in the vicinity."

"People died, that's on me," Wanda refuted her head turning to down as she fiddled with her sleeves.

"Wanda- this job-" you weren't quite sure what to say, comfort was never your thing.

"You try to save as many people as you can," Steve interrupted, and you could barely restrain yourself from glaring at his form leaning on the doorway, "that doesn't always mean everybody, but if we can't find a way to live with that, next time maybe nobody gets saved."

Before anybody could get another word in, there was a distinct sound, almost a whirring sound, and Wanda jumped before Vision phased into the room.

"Vis," she reprimanded, "we talked about this."

"Yes, but the door was open so I assumed-" he gestured to the door as if to make his point, then Wanda gave him a look, so he sighed, "Captain Rogers and Ms. Y/L/N wished to know when Mr. Stark was arriving."

"Thank you, we'll be right down," you said curtly.

Vision hesitated then pointed towards the door, "I'll use the door this time. Oh! and he's brought a guest?"

"Do we know who?" you and Steve asked in tandem, drawing a soft smile out of Wanda.

"The Secretary of State," Vision said before exiting out the hallway.

<____________>

Tony just finished his spiel on the kid who died, the young-ish boy who wanted to make a difference. Your heart ached for the kid and his mom, it did, but the whole world would be taken over at this point if the Avengers hadn't done anything.

"Tony the whole world would be gone if we didn't stop those threats, I'm not-" you didn't even get to finish your sentence before Tony cut you off.

"No, there's no decision making process here," his tone raised (you did not flinch) as he leaned against the counter, "we need to be put in check. By whatever means, I'm game."

There was a slight stunned silence, nobody quite expected Tony to sign the accords.

Steve sighed, "Tony if someone dies on your watch, you don't give up." his tone weighed heavy on his words.

"Who said we're giving up?"

"We are if we don't take responsibility."

"Guys listen-" you tried to get your voice in, but when Tony, Steve, and Rhodey started arguing you were cut off.

They weren't even being that loud, but you despised when people argued and quietly slipped out, just barely catching Wanda's "They'll come for me." You would protect her. Your feet carried you towards the balcony and you took a seat on the ground, tilting your head towards the sky.

These Accords were going to split the team apart, you knew it, but you would be dammed if you lost another group of friends. You wracked your brain for flaws in this plan. If the Avengers were needed but were told 'no', that could cause more disasters. But that wasn't enough. The team could all disagree to sign it, bluff and say they would no longer help and be heroes, but they might be called on their buff. There wasn't a lot of options to keep the team together.

Maybe, just maybe, Steve told you they had 1 month to decide - if the team could win back trust, then maybe they wouldn't have to sign the accords. It was a long shot, and you didn't even know how to pull it off, but it could work.

"What's on your mind?" Natasha asked as she stepped out onto the balcony and slid down the wall next to you, "You got your thinking face on."

You love how she thought everything was perfect between you two.

"Nothing," you croaked, "How're things going with Maria? I haven't seen her in a while."

Natasha winced, "We...aren't on the best of terms right now. Currently taking a break, she has an apartment in the city."

You never expected their marriage to last. Two hotheaded, stubborn women? That was a recipe for disaster. Natasha should have been able to tell, but she seemed to desperate for love. You made a sympathetic face, but offered no other comfort.

"What if..." you trailed off, hesitant, "What if you guys appeal to the UN? Ross gave you a month right? Appeal to the UN, get them to repeal the accords."

Natasha let out a long, heavy breath, "That would never work," she shook her head.

When she oppened her mouth to speak again, Wanda stepped out onto the balcony fidgeting with her cuffs.

"Is it alright if I steal Y/N for a moment? I need her help with something."

It looked like the last thing Natasha wanted to do was say 'yes', but regardless, "Yeah sure, go ahead."

You followed Wanda out into the hall and she led you towards her room silently, stopping just outside the door. The witch bounced on her toes and bit her lip.

Eventually she mumbled, "Do you want to watch a movie with me?"

"Huh?" you asked momentarily stunned.

She looked up, eyes a little wide, "It's just that Vis cancelled for some reason and I have all these snacks so I figured-"

"Wanda," you cut her off with a laugh, "I would love to."

For some reason, an ugly feeling twisted in your gut when she mentioned doing this Vision. You didn't want her to do this with Vision.

Wanda smiled and opened the door to her room. She led you towards her bed and snuggled up under the covers. Tenderly, you sat atop them, careful to keep a boundry. Popcorn and candy sat atop the bed, which the witch softly passed towards you before flicking the TV on.

It was some cheezy sitcom, a genere of movies you had never been particullarly interested, but Wanda would let out small giggles that warmed your heart. The young woman had been through so much and deserved some happiness in her life.

<__________>

Your nose bled as you cradled Wanda in your arms in the airport of Germany. Her strain from using magic and Rhodey's attack was too much.

In the end, when forced to choose sides, you tried to choose neither. Then Tony locked up Wanda, and caught Steve. Before you could even decide, Natasha approached you with her best puppy dog eyes that you could never say no to and asked you to join them.

"Y/N please," she had begged, scooching closer, your shoulders touched, "We need help."

Her hand landed on yours and you shook her off, "No, Nat. I don't- I'm not- this isn't right."

You knees knocked against hers accidentally, "Please," she asked once more.

"No, Natasha." you shook your head.

A steely mask came over her face as she nodded and exited your room. You didn't see her after that until the airport fight.

As the situation escalated, you tried to keep yourself neutral and spent time with Wanda and, unfortunately, Vision. The android didn't seem to like you very much. To be honest neither did you for one, simple, reason. Over the past month you realized you liked Wanda. No, not liked, you loved Wanda. You guys did movie nights together, she taught you how to cook, and simply hung out together despite the chaos growing.

Vision did not seemed pleased by this development. You found it stupid, he was an adriod for pete's sake. You would be damned if you let an advanced microwave steal Wanda.

(Maybe you had already had someone better than you steal the person you love once, and you didn't want that to happen again.)

When Clint stopped by, your first time seeing him since Christmas, he recruited you and you joined the fight.

Now, here you were with a few cuts and a bloody nose craddling Wanda in your arms gently.

"You ok?" you panted as she regained her breath.

"Yeah, you?"

"I'm good," you responded.

Tenderly you bent your head towards hers until your foreheads knocked together. She offered a soft smile, and even though she had looked better before; Wanda looked stunning. Her red centric outfit that made her amber eyes pop. You trailed you eyes further down her face, down the kissable slope of her nose, past her perfect cheekbones - all the way to her soft lips.

She leaned up, her hand coming up to cup the back of your head and pressed her lips softly to yours. You were enveloped by the taste of paprikash and could smell Wanda's honey shampoo, mingled with the smel of sweat and smoke. You pressed lips further into hers with a meek whine and could feel her smile.

Before it could deepen any further you were ripped away, the collar of you shirt pressing against your windpipe. Vision yanked your arms behind your back, leaving Wanda on the ground.

"Vision!" Wanda exclaimed, climbng to her feet, "What are you going?"

"You and Ms. Y/L/N are criminals now, I have a duty to arrest you," he explained in his stupid monotone robot voice.

Wanda raised her hands, ready to fight, before you shook your head.

"We're beat Wanda, let it go."

The witch lowered her hands, giving you a tight-lipped frown to convey her displeasure.

<___________>

The raft was perhaps the most unpleasant prision you had been too. Other than one in Germany, that one really sucked. You had no sense of time on the raft, they delivered food at random intervals - sometimes what felt like days apart, and they only seemed to give water at regular intervals so you wouldn't die.

When Tony first came, you wanted to punch Clint for telling him where Steve and Bucky went. When Tony first came you wanted to punch him. He turned you guys into Ross, and now you were sitting in this stupid water prision and Wanda was in a straight jacket like she was some physcopath. The young brunette hand't spoken in days, opting to stare at the wall - no doubt reminded of her HYDRA days.

Clint and Sam had taken to singing the most horrid songs, but trying to keep the mood up none the less. However, some time ago (you still weren't sure) an officer came and told them if they agreed to house arrest they could go home. Both gentleman agreed giving the rest pitying looks. Clint had tried to advocate for at least you and Wanda (sorry Sam) to come with him, be on house arrest, but he was denied.

After what had felt like at least a month (still time was an unknown variable), Steve, The Winter Soldier, and Natasha came to break you all out. It was perhaps the most messy prison break and you had a feeling the only reason it had any semblence of order was because of Natasha. If it was just Steve and Bucky they would brute force it.

Once they broke you out, all of you went to Wakanda and The Winter Soldier was sent into cyro-freeze. T'Challa, despite previously being against you, offered for the 'Rouges' (as you were dubbed on television) to stay in Wakanda. You all gratefully accepted the offer.

Currently you sat cuddled up with Wanda, her arm wrapped around you as you laid on her chest, watching a sitcom. She claimed it to be one of her childhood favorites, but she said that about every movie.

"Wanda," you peeked up at her as the credits rolled, "Is it wrong that I think I might still love Natasha?"

The woman pursed her lips, "..How much do you love her?"

"I-" you shrugged awkwardly, "I still feel like I love her- I had known when we were little, but I don't love her. I just think I'm-" you reached a hand up to your hair and tugged in frustration because you couldn't get the words out.

You would never break up with Wanda for Natasha. But some stupid little part of your heart still loved Natasha, and for a moment you almost shot your shot. During the early stages of the accords, when she mentioned taking a break with Maria, you almost tried it. Only stopping for two reasons: one, you would almost be helping her cheat on her wife, and two, you were already falling for Wanda. And yet still, there was that lingering warm and fuzzy feeling your chest when you thought of Natasha. That feeling that made you want to care for her and protect her.

Wanda looked down at you, seemingly reading your mind (she probably was), and gently pried your hand away from your hair, "I think..." she bit her lip before "that based on your thoughts, I don't mean to listen they are just loud, that you care for her, but you do not love her," the witch shrugged, "I trust you."

"I love you," you whispered, "I'm supposed to love you."

"Dekta," she took your face in her hands, "you're not supposed to love anyone." she brushed her thumbs over her cheeks.

"...I love you," you stated, your voice firm.

Wanda smiled widely, flashing her pearly white teeth, "I love you too."

You tucked your head into her chest as the next movie began, smiling in content.

<___________>

Life in Wakanda was awesome. You kept in shape, training with the Dora Milaje (even though you got your ass handed to you every time), and running laps around the area. The Winter Soldier came out of cyro not too long ago, and you became pretty good friends with him. Turns out his name was Bucky, and he was actually very sweet, choosing to go work on the farms and earn his keep.

Steve and you often jogged around the area "together". He mainly ran ahead and waited until you were done.

Sam became your new cooking budy, both of you trying out Wakandan recipies and occasionally starting a tiny kitchen fire.

Natasha was a bit of a rocky start once again. She approached you one morning, fiddling with her thumbs - something she never does.

"Look- Y/N," she began after clearing her throat, "Maria and I decided to get a divorce and I was wondering if you wanted to- if you wanted to go out with me?"

Your heart broke at her sad expression, but you already had a girlfriend, "I'm sorry, Nat, but I'm already with Wanda."

"Oh, I see," she visibly deflated, her shoulders dropping.

"But, we can still be friends," you offered a friendly smile with a shrug.

"I would love that."

After that encounter you two spent some awkward time together before building up your usual comfort and hanging around each other like you had been best friends your entire life.

The best part of Wakanda was Wanda.

You two spent most your free time together. Whether it was watching cheezy sitcoms, talking about dark pasts, cooking, making out, or working out together. It made you fall in love with her even more. By this point you had been dating for a year and a half, a year and a half since the accords.

Gosh, it had been a while.

"Y/N, my love," Wanda asked that afternoon, "how would feel about doing a picnic for dinner?"

Ignoring the oddity of the request you grinned, "I would love to."

Which led to your situation of sitting with your girlfriend on a blanket, watching the sun set over a river - a beautiful array of colors. Wanda looked beautiful in the light of the setting un, her brown-ish red hair falling past her shoulds with subtle waves. Her green eyes sparkling against her red-dress. Her lips, plump and kissable, and oh so soft.

You loved every piece of this woman. When you glanced away for a moment, and heard shuffling, you thought nothing of it. But when you turned back around....

Wanda was kneeling on the ground, the softest smile on her face, as she held a small black box in her hand. A glittering, but simple, ring sat snuggly in the box.

"Y/N, my love, my beautiful love, would you do the honor of marrying me?"

You blinked at her like an owl, drawing a soft laugh out of her, before tackling Wanda to ground.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," you chanted.

An angelic laugh left Wanda's mouth as she wrapped her arms around you. You propped yourself up and stared into her eyes, which were shinning with adoration. Pressing a soft kiss to her lips as you savored the moment.

Gosh, you loved this woman. You love her laugh, the way she scrunched her nose when she laughed. You love her eyes, those shiny green with a slight hint of amber eyes. You love her cooking and how she's always willing to cook when your sad. You love the way she tells stories, mostly about her brother. You love the way she cares for you, holding you tenderly in bed and stroking your hair. You love how kissable her lips her, always soft and always tasting faintly of paprikash, and the way her hair smells of honey.

Most of all you love how thoughtful she was. The way she would leave little reminders around your shared room so you wouldn't forget things. When you were sad she always made your favorite comfort meal and listened to your stories of your dad. Both of you watched childish shows together, healing that inner child. There were so many things about her that you loved.

Gosh, you love this woman.

[the-defendery-189]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS #1

Venus & Neptune square and aspects in general, especially negative ones - lazy, creative, and inspirational, yet so delusional and preferring their fantasies to the relatity in their relationships and often not even realise they're doing that.

Capricorn and Virgo and Aquarius suns are imo the ones to hate astrology the most, like once they learn there are also bad things about their signs, wow!!!, they immediately hate it and GOOOD, astrology is so TERRIBLE and UNREAL and FAKE... 🙄🙄🙄

Scorpio suns are very hypocritical. Once they say some things but when it's suddenly against them, you're just making it up, it never happened! Also gaslight people and are just generally very proud and irrational when hurt a lot. Blame others a lot. Get all defensive and icky when people actually try to accuse them of something they have done.

Geminis can use fake tears to make you pity them and then act like it's all your fault, anyways.

Also sags use their feelings to try to gaslight people and make them feel sad for them and excuse themselves when they just don't care about them anymore, and just make them seem like it's all the other persons fault, when they'll still go like "its not you, it's me" in the end.

Cancer suns are very quirky in a kind of disgusting way, personally I get very annoyed by them and they still think I think they're oh so cute.

Also cancer men are very manipulative and might want to seem like the prince charming and saviour of all the women. Often matriarchal and want women to have all the power. Also submissive to them in sex and generally want women to be the dominant ones in a relationship. Often grew up in a home without a father, who left them as a child, their mother ruling the household. Might be the youngest sibling. Bullied in school and bullying others, hiding behind the "but I'm a soft boy uwu 😩😣💖💖💖🫀🫀🫀❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥💔💔💔👈👈👈" excuse and trauma that have happened to them. Either metalheads or soft boys uwu discord kittens. Often joke about furries and cringe weird communities and their obsessions. Very chronically online and may have grew up as a YouTube creepy pasta or smth else child.

Also Cancer men - Will pretend to listen to a girl because they know this is what they want --- because of that mother relationship they grew up with. But seriously just not give a fuck for real in their heads, they just know how to be smart and manipulate women. Don't feel comfortable around men BCS of their too-much-comfortable being they happen to switch on when are with women. Often put on a mask in front of men and pretend to be someone who they aren't. Men might think they're cool then, which j really don't understand. Like what???

Also cancer men and women - mommy issues, if it wasn't obvious. Can be very backstabbing and distrustful and think of themselves as mega hot and the best. Often boring texters and talkers. Rant a lot and talk about their hyperfixations and how the world is cruel and shit towards them, but really sometimes you can't help but wonder if they don't deserve it.

Saturn in 7th - Abusive relationships, getting married later in life, husband/wife popular and maybe rich, so if they abuse you, nobody might believe you and everybody will be on their side because they might be just more charismstic than you.

My parents both have this placement and it is HELL.

Lilith in 10th, 1th - Women envy you, hate you and sabotage you, men think you're too dark and edgy for them. People thinking you think you're better then them, this hating you. Being too charismatic for your own good.

Leo Venus - again, as it is with the Saturn in 7th. Could be more popular and overall likeable so if they do terrible things to you, nobody will believe you. Might just be nobody believing me cuz of crazy people around me tho.

Neptune in 1st - people might find you very attractive and ethereal, but also project on you A LOT. Meaning connections and relationships with you are just really difficult to even happen BCS people are always so judging and mean towards you.

Chiron in 1st - Body image issues, partners might abuse you and body shame you, people thinking less of you and in childhood parents often telling you you look ugly. I'm sorry people, I have this placement too tho so its not like I'm shaming you too, just I can feel your pain.

Scorpio ascendant - Too assertive and proud of your uniqueness and too opinionated for your own good. You guys are so clear with your speaking and always speak your mind and aren't fearful to express yourself how you feel and how your think and are always so like colorful with the things you say if you know what I mean. People will despise you for that and try to shut you up. And as somebody who did this to my scorp rising friend before subconsciously,,, yep. It happens even from your trusted friends.

If your moon is in the same sign as your friends/anyone's ascendant... You might feel instantly understood by them. Like I have this with my friend and it's an absolutely great and fantastic relationship, I love her. She absolutely understands me and gets me on a spiritual level - maybe caused by the fact that we have this with Scorpio - like no one else. It's a great relationship, savour this.

If you have a moon sign same as somebody's sun sign, you might enjoy their cooking.

If you have a sun sign same as somebody else's rising, you might try to be more like them and adore them for no reason.

[dwindlinghaze]

Hello, how are you?

I would like to make a request where one day there is a list of the most uninteresting girls/girls that boys would never ask for a date and the reader's name is one of the first most voted just because she is shy and introverted. Remus has a crush on her and even the reader disguising it he can see that she is sad and pulling away from her friends (it's ok if you don't want to write my request, I understand <3)

hi angel, im doing good! tysm for requesting!! here is it, hope you enjoy 🤍🌸🫧💕

when raindrops fell

contents : angst, insecurity, lovely remus, we don't support people who tear women down for no reason!!

warnings : okay so just a heads up, the upper part of the fic is just me ranting about how much i hate the patriarchy and how harmful this kind of behaviour is especially towards young girls,,,, but i hope you like it!!! <333333

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

murmurs about a list of girls that are unlovable has been spreading around. you couldn't help but worry deep down.

you hated that idea. whoever created that has a special place on hell rsvp-ed for them. it was crucial.

you are shy and introverted but that doesn't mean you have zero thoughts on this. your stomach twisted because this whole thing is coming from such a misogynistic place.

and the fact that it said 'girls that boys would never ask' grew some resentment you never knew was there. living in such a patriarchal world is hard for a woman, especially young girls. they would grow up thinking it's their fault that people dislike them, but in reality it's the injustice social system that is harmful for both men and women. (and in between!)

"y/n did you hear? your name is one of the top on the lists!" a guy snorted.

you waved him off, thinking that he is just playing with you. well- that was until you saw the list. you were there.

you couldn't help but feel insecure. you sort of knew that nobody really glanced over their shoulders just to see you but by creating this, you were sure of it now.

you were embarrassed. you wouldn't dare getting out of your room. even your friends noticed the change in you. you weren't your usual confident and self-loving self anymore. if anything, you think it actually took a toll on you.

remus saw the way your eyes don't lit up anymore, the way you look sadder every passing day. he's feeling so melancholic by the way your usual self that he has grown fond of is fading away.

it hurts him actually. how can someone be so evil? how can anyone voted for you? it is a privilege to get to know you. they're missing out.

how can anyone see you that way. you are the prettiest person in the world! it's unfair how terribly kind people are treated by society.

"y/n?" remus called out to the dark.

"what," you croaked, voice hoarse. you haven't been speaking for a while.

"just wanna check if you're okay," he smiled.

"i'm fine," you said, though your expression tells otherwise.

"you wanna talk about it?" he asked.

you shook your head.

"hey, listen. you're pretty. the prettiest actually. don't mind about that stupid list. whoever created that- they think they rule the school, but they don't. so don't let them get to you yeah? you're prefect just how you are. please don't change a thing. don't satisfy them. they're doing this because they have no job," he grinned. "look at you! minding your own business, that's why you're the best person in school- in the world!"

"but that's not enough," you sniffed.

"what's not enough? you're more than enough," he assured you. then he realised, the latter part. "say, do you want to go to hogsmeade with me? next weekend."

"don't pity me like that," you said, shaking your head at him.

it breaks his heart how you thought someone would ask you out for a date just because of pity. it's the opposite actually. it came from true feelings and generosity.

"i'm not pitying you, i do like you since- forever," he said. "i write poems about you, about your face, your personality, your heart, yourself. you're dreamy."

"guess.... i'll go on a date with you."

[aita-blorbos]

Am I a bad person for saying mean things about my friends?

[cw for gaslighting and manipulation]

I just feel really really super-bad about this, but everyone says it wasn't my fault and I don't need to apologize but it's messing me up and I dunno what to think about it anymore…

I (14F) was having a really bad day the other day. Y'know, the kind where you make the dumbest mistakes and the things people say get at you a lot more than they normally do? And on my way home I found this cute-looking doll and it said it wanted to be my new friend to help cheer me up (which I'm always in favor of, I love making new friends!!), and said that if I be its friend, it would help me be luckier, and that nobody would make fun of me again, just as long as I always kept her with me. It sounded good to me, so I agreed and took it home with me!

And, things were going great! Like the doll said, I was so much luckier, and my magic was getting so much stronger from it! S(14M) and L(14F) were totally wowed, too! But um, then I think I got a little fat-headed and started gloating at R(14F) and K(14M) and kept beating them in magic duels.

Later the doll kept saying that they would all definitely think better of me now, and that it was because we had gotten to be such good friends and. She was kinda loud about it an that was scary, but she was really making me feel good and better and lucky and… even though she was saying that my other friends were horrible and that I was wonderful and that she was my only real friend. It seemed so nice.

And then and then the next day, K and R and S and L were all asking about how much better with magic I had gotten and what had changed. And I wasn't sure what to do or say. So the doll told me that I should tell all of them to shut up, and that I didn't want to pretend at being friends anymore if they were gonna keep picking on me, and all these other horrible things. And I wanted to trust my friend, so I did what she said.

And to make it worse, I accidentally dropped the doll and all I could think of was "I need to keep her with me! She's the only one that understands me! She said so herself" and I pushed poor L away! And when R tried taking her away I just panicked and ran off.

I don't remember much of what happened for the next while. My head was hurting, but the Doll said I'd done well, so I just kept going, and she kept telling me she was my friend. And I just. Kept believing her, because it was getting hard to believe anything else, with my head being as fuzzy as it was…

Then S and L and K and R caught up with me and started trying to take my friend the Doll away again and calling her a liar and I was so scared for her, and for losing her, when she had been so helpful to me. I just couldn't think, so I kept casting spells at them and telling them all to go away and leave us alone.

But then, R and K started saying that they'd miss me if I was gone, because we really were friends and that they liked having me and my usual positivity around. L and S were saying everyone was worried about me, and wanted me to be friends with them again. I was so shaken, I ended up losing the duel I started.

And then it all came rushing back to me. All those awful things I said and did to the people who had been so nice and supportive of me, even if they're not always the best at showing it (K and R are especially really stubborn like that, but I know they meant it). And I just. I just still feel so AWFUL about it!!! There's no way that S and L and K and R would just forgive me, just like that, for being so mean, right?? I must be the bad person here, right???

EDIT: Someone asked what happened to the doll. My homeroom teacher showed up right after that and said something like, the doll puppets people with their hearts and take their powers? I dunno what that has to do with anything, though. Anyway, she took it somewhere else, but I didn't really listen much when she said where she was taking it. Honestly, that just goes to show, I really need to be better about listening too!!

EDIT 2: And now people keep asking why I didn't think it was weird the doll was talking. But why would it be weird? I thought it was kinda like the talking cat plushie my homeroom teacher carries with her, or the old teddy bear that runs the museum.

[scintillyyy]

anyways i was thinking about the fanon dynamic of dick no longer loving tim and while it's definitely incorrect on all levels, i am thinking about how if there is one thing that i am even a little bit intrigued by, it's the idea that dick waking up one day and no longer loving tim is actually a scenario that is probably one of the most emotionally devastating things that you could do to tim and i think there could be a potential for, like, a good and devastating type of angst in a scenario like this if you were really, really careful about it and don't just turn tim into a wet noodle who is oppressed by a made up scenario where no one loves or appreciates him.

i guess these are my two examples of how this could potentially work in my head that doesn't villify anyone:

one, dick gets cursed by a magic user who removes his love for and/or memories of tim for reasons. maybe it's someone they crossed in the past when they were nightwing and robin who's out to get revenge on them. so you get this scenario where dick does not love tim anymore due to magic shenanigans, and this is very, very hurtful for tim and tim gets to angst over his big brother not loving him. however tim is not a wet noodle, and when he's not angsting and trying not to take this too personally he's on a mission to figure out what is wrong with dick and why doesn't dick like him anymore. tim would of course, stop the magic user and bring real dick back and real dick is very relieved he has his love for tim back and feels terrible about the whole thing even though it's not his fault and tim is trying so hard to not take it personally, but it is an objectively shitty situation that would make anyone feel bad even if you know it's not personal. it's very hard and hurtful when your favorite big brother is treating you like a stranger even if it is not their fault! it would end with dick being super proud of tim for bringing back the real him and ending the curse and being like "i always know i can trust you to save me :) :)" (in a reversal from red robin--you're my brother tim, you'll always be there to help me or something). i also think this scenario you could do something really fun with tim and damian because they could begrudgingly team up because even damian is like "i don't like this stranger dick who doesn't care about tim, it's just not right" and when tim is angsting he could casually bring up the fun things that he and dick used to do together and damian is only trainsurfing with tim because tim is in a pathetic situation, not because he's actually enjoying this or anything, okay?

two, post-crisis dick and nu52 dick have switched places! now, someone may have had this idea before and i know very little about nu52 dynamics other than the fact that dick and tim were more like just coworkers than anything due to the loss of their shared history i think? nobody hated anyone, but you had tim be like "i'm close to jason, dick who?" so you have tim, who is now dealing with a dick who is treating him like a distant coworker and doesn't understand that they were really, really close because they don't have their shared history in this dick's universe! and maybe this dick thinks that tim is a bit of a boner, because nu52 tim is a bit of a boner, and this situation sucks all around! it makes tim very unhappy that there's a world where dick and him aren't best bros. anyways because post-crisis tim can worm him way into anyone's heart, he does eventually worm his way into nu52 dick's heart and by the time the dicks switch back to their rightful place, nu52 dick is like. hm, maybe i should spend some time and actually get to know tim. this has the bonus of post-crisis dick getting to also angst over having to deal with nu52 tim who doesn't really get why dick is acting like they're super close? and dick gets to be very sad there's a world that he and tim don't have a shared history that's actually pretty important to him, now that he's faced with a tim who doesn't understand why they're so close. also, this tim is a bit of a boner who seems to like jason for some reason. dick just misses his tim, okay? :(

anyways, important notes from either of these scenarios: tim spends an inordinate amount of time complaining to huntress and/or oracle about the state of things.

[lemonycranberries]

that ending...

spoiler warning: al rawabi school for girls season 2 ending

tw: suicide, self harm, blood

maybe i shouldn't have watched this whole season today... i'm genuinely feeling kind of unwell. maybe there could've been some kind of trigger warning at least for the last episode.

i do understand the whole shock value thing, but seeing her slit wrist full of blood on the floor made me genuinely sick to my stomach. i'm crying more than i cried any other point of the season (and boy, was that a lot) but not really just in a "watching a show" kind of way, i'm just actually feeling really, really bad.

i understand the message is really important, but watching this was just... very heavy.

Farah was one of the characters I identified with the most this season, one of the characters I felt for the most, and especially one of the characters which I most wanted to have a happy ending.

again, I do understand she's representing a lot of real people. because with a lot of real people, endless bullying and exclusion does lead to suicide. and it's interesting to see how pretty much all of the characters in the main and even side cast played a part in this. constantly bullying her, constantly ignoring her... not even a single person thought of stopping and listening to her. she was insignificant to a lot of them, and when some people (very few, because most still didn't care) were starting to think of going to her, it was too late. but most people didn't even do that. most people laughed at her, excluded her, and made her feel invisible until the very last second. she died thinking nobody actually cared enough about her. and upon finding out about it, the same people who were a few minutes ago laughing at her and mocking her just stood there in shock, starting to cry and having no other possible reaction. because they know this was partially their fault. hell, maybe even largely their fault.

it's just... nobody thinks ignoring and mocking the cheerful, helpful, desperate fat girl (by the way, I thought it was quite strange how the characters in the show actually considered her "fat", but that's for another time) will actually lead to something. they are simply indifferent to her presence and even more indifferent to her suffering. the brilliance is that we're used to that treatment by tv shows themselves as well; sometimes it feels like not even the writers care about this type of character. they're just tossed to the side. they're a sidekick, a best friend, a cousin, a comic relief... until they're not. because in this case, her feelings were considered by the writers in the show, if not by the other characters. and the writers decided to show something that does happen to people who suffer with these issues in real life, even though a lot of television refuses to show it: actual deep consequences, and, in this and many other cases, suicide. the death of a bright, talented, determined, creative, kind young girl who didn't even have anyone consider her, not a single person to offer her help.

i might write more thoughts later, because again, right now i'm just genuinely kind of unwell. well, i guess i can say the ending of this season followed the tradition from s1; very shocking and impactful (though very much a real problem). even though i feel awful right now, i admire this show for how it doesn't shy away from difficult, extremely real topics.

[japhan2024]

A Classic Mistake

The Chosens are rehearsing for Smosh the Sitcom Live. And Spencer and Shayne come up with the scheme to kiss during the show.

Words: 1,243

Genre: fluff, angst, pining, first kiss

Rating: teen I guess, there's kissing lmao

read on AO3: A classic mistake - Japhan2024 - Smosh [Archive of Our Own]

Trevor and Spencer were at Shayne and Courtney's place to rehearse for Smosh the Sitcom Live. They had been at it the entire week, but Shayne had to do a double role as both Krungle AND one of the three Chosens. So he appreciated the guys coming over for some extra preparation.

"It's just one week now," Spencer said, sipping on a Kickstart, which Shayne had specifically bought for him (in bulk).

"Yeah, we've got this, boys," Trevor added.

"It's gonna be a pretty epic show," Courtney peeked their head around the corner and used their Dominic voice. That sent Shayne into a hearty laugh.

"I'm going to go spend the night at my sister's," Courtney continued in a normal voice. "See you guys on Monday!"

"Bye Court!" "Byee," "By honey," they guys chimed. Shayne kissed Courtney goodbye, with a sweet, soft peck on the lips. As the door closed behind them, Shayne turned around, and there was no Shayne to be detected in his demeanor. He was the Chosen.

"Hmmm. It appears we are here to rehearse this hellscape of a show," he began his familiar spiel.

"We have to train and be ready, like we've never been ready before," Trevor declared in his best Chosen tone, staring into the distance.

Spencer continued: "We have to make sure that nobody escapes through the barriers of the literal hellscape, until they have told us their DEEPEST and most hidden secrets."

Shayne shouted: "WE MUST BE PREPARED FOR ANYTHING. NOTHING WILL BREAK US," and at that exact time, a fart sound escaped his phone. Trevor descended into laughter. Shayne's Chosen smirked, content.

"Goddamnit, Chosen," Spence scolded in jest. "Are you still defeated this quickly, by only a single flatulent moment?"

Trevor sighed. "My blade is mighty, but not as mighty as the simple butt-horn." Now it was Spencer's time to snort.

They kept bantering, trying to get each other to laugh. Trevor did little else than wheeze in hysterics. He really tried, it wasn't his fault. And they had a great time. But it was getting late and he wanted to spend the night at his girlfriend's house. So he said goodbye to Shayne and Spencer, and left the house.

"It appears that you and I are the only ones left, to complete our training," Spencer spoke.

"It does appear to be the case," Shayne answered. He was getting quite tired and decided to drop the Chosen for a moment. "Spencer, do you want another Kickstart?"

"Don't mind if I do," Spencer replied, and got it from the fridge himself. "You?" He asked, but Shayne gestured he was full enough.

"It's gonna be a lot, playing two roles." Spencer relaxed into Shayne's couch.

"Absolutely. At some point, the Chosen will have a full face of makeup on. Oh god, the lashes are so heavy, man. Why did I agree to this?"

"You mean why did you think of it yourself?"

"Yeah."

"Who do you think will do the kiss?" Spencer looked at Shayne with a neutral tone, yet *something* shifted the mood in Shayne's living room.

"Uh, well Krungle might do it. Amanda and Ian's chemistry is off the charts."

Spencer nodded in agreement.

Shayne went on: "And they have a whole scene where they're about to do it. Maybe one of them will be like, fuck it, let's go!"

"If Amanda breaks, then it's you who will have to kiss Ian, though."

"Yeah, that would be pretty awkward," Shayne laughed. "Yet hilarious!"

"Ian would haaaate it, dude."

"I'd gladly kiss him, if it will make him that annoyed."

"What about you and Dominic?"

"Well, only if I'm Krungle. Dominic is very straight," Shayne replied, like it was a fact set in stone.

"But it's your-"

"No, not when Courtney's Dominic."

"Oh."

It was quiet for a while. It was getting later and later, but Spencer showed no intention of leaving. And with Courtney gone, Shayne kind of liked the company.

"Maybe we should kiss."

"What?"

Spencer looked at Shayne again in the same way. Somehow it made Shayne blush.

"I mean the Chosens, of course."

"Oh. Wow, that would be... HILARIOUS!" Shayne exclaimed.

Spencer sat up energetically. "Yeah, and it should come out of fucking nowhere."

"You're right..." Shayne was thinking. Where in the script would they fit it in?

"Have you done live kisses before?"

"What? Oh, yeah, plenty," Shayne bluffed. "Have you?"

"Sure. Do you think we should practice, though?"

Shayne swallowed. "I- I guess we have to!"

Another awkward silence.

"Well, maybe we should rehearse it, right now?"

Spencer got up from the couch, and walked up to Shayne. Why did this make Shayne blush even more? He suddenly noticed things about Spencer he'd never noticed before. Like his plump, pink lips, his fuckboy smirk, his luscious curls, what- what the hell was Shayne thinking...

"Right! So, we should do a stage kiss-" Shayne's attempt at a defense was in vain.

"No, a real one. Fans will notice if it's not real."

"Okay, well then, I guess we'll kiss right now?"

Spencer got on his tippy-toes and reached for Shayne's mouth.

It was short and sweet. Shayne nodded. "Yeah, just like that." His heart was racing. Why was it racing?! Of course he knew why. He knew a thing or two about infatuation. And how to act on it and when too ignore it. But he'd never been in a situation where it hit him right during a rehearsal-kiss.

"I think we need to do that a few more times," Spencer insisted. Maybe with the fart sounds. So we know we won't get distracted."

"Yeah! Yeah, you're right. Okay, here we go again..."

This time, Spencer caressed Shayne's jaw, placed his lips squarely on Shayne's, and stayed there for a while. Did he notice Shayne's panicked heartbeat and fast breathing? Shayne fucking hoped not.

"Hehe," Spencer said when they finally broke the kiss, after what seemed like an eternity. "This will for sure get 'em. Or, like the Chosen would say: impressive."

"It.. absolutely will.." Shayne heard himself say.

"One more time just to make sure?"

Shayne nodded, silently thanking the dusk that had fallen, so his red head wasn't so obvious.

Spencer reached for his lips once again, and Shayne felt himself caressing and grabbing Spencer's arm, like he was Amanda - who famously jacked off people's arms - and kissing Spencer deeply, savoring every last second of it. He somehow tasted the Mountain Dew. He felt Spencer's hand grab his neck, pulling them closer.

They were kissing - full tongue now. Shayne was getting desperate. How was he going to explain this to Court? Shayne's hand was lost in a sea of brown curls, while Spencer's hands were searching, working their way around Shayne's shoulders and back. Entirely against his will, a deep moan escaped Shayne's throat- paralyzing him, like he was set in stone, then and there.

Spencer released him. "Better to get this inevitable sexual tension out of the way now, so it won't bother us next week," Spencer euphemized the whole situation, like he had not just carved out Shayne's heart and held it in his bloody hand.

"Mmmyeah.." Shayne took a few steadying breaths. "So, that's what it feels like to be your girlfriend, huh," he managed to joke.

"You know I had to do it to 'em."

"Spencer?"

"Whaddup?"

"Do you think we'll be able to pull this off?"

"I think we need some more practice."