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@numberforaname
This is an oc x canon safe zone.

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I mean, dysfunction is, after all, what we do best in this family.
The Umbrella Academy: 4x03
POV you make a post about being excited about being back and your cat dies shortly after
đ§đť
Causing me to ghost again and look like a flake.
( a collection of friends to enemies dialogue prompts. adjust phrasing as necessary.) feel free to make edits to better suit your muse, but please donât edit or add on to the original post đ¤ if you like, please consider supporting me through tips, it's highly appreciated.
âHow could you throw away everything weâve been through for this?â
âYou betrayed me. Iâll never forgive you for that.â
âI never thought itâd be you standing in my way.â
âAfter everything I did for you, this is how you repay me?â
âI shouldâve known better than to trust someone like you.â
âYou used me, and I was too blind to see it until now.â
âFunny how you only care when it benefits you.â
âI supported you when no one else would, and you didnât even hesitate to stab me in the back.â
âIâve done nothing but clean up your messes, and Iâm sick of it.â
âI didnât want it to come to this, but youâve left me no choice.â
âI shouldâve seen it coming. You were never really on my side, were you?â
âYou always needed to be the hero, didnât you? Well, congratulationsâyouâre my villain now.â
âI stood by you when everyone else walked away, and now I see why they did.â
âYou played the victim so well, I actually believed you.â
âYou always knew how to hurt me, and now youâve finally succeeded.â
"Your last act of friendship was stabbing me in the back." "No. That was my first act of honesty."
"I know every dark thing you've ever done." "And I know why you helped me do them." "That's the difference between us. I can live with my sins." "No. The difference is I stopped pretending mine were justified."
"How many others before me?"
You'd have made a superb father.

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Guess whose back bitches? (it's me, I'm back)
Talk shit about someone my Muse knows.
Could be a friend, a loved one, maybe even an enemy! Try to provoke some sort of action out of them! Can be done on or off anon.
"You're following me. I don't care to be followed."
She had in fact been following him, that much is true. Sure, it would be easy enough to lie and deny that sheâs following him but Cha-Chaâs never been one to back down when confrontation is presented to her. And quite frankly, based off all she has learnt about Diego Hargreeves, it seems that neither is he.
âOh Iâm just returning the favour. Donât think I havenât seen you watching us from your car in the motel parking lot.â
She steps into the light, fingers curled tightly around the handle of a pistol, resting it at her side; itâs clear that sheâs ready for a fight to break out. Hell, she expects it.
âSticking your nose where it doesnât belong.â
The tone of her voice implies thereâs an underlying threat to her words. Well aware that this is something he wonât take kindly to she keeps her gaze fixed on him, refusing to give him a chance to catch her off guard.
Diego narrows his eyes at Cha-Cha, his muscles tensing at the sight of the pistol glinting under the flickering streetlamp. His knives are concealed beneath his jacket, fingers itching to reach for one, but he knows better than to make the first moveâat least not yet. The dim light paints the alleyway in eerie shadows, highlighting the tension between them, thick and palpable. He steps forward with his usual confidence, closing the distance just enough to make his presence known without being reckless.
"Watching you?" Diegoâs voice drips with sarcasm, his lips curling into a smirk. "I donât need to watch. You and Hazel? You leave a trail a mile wide." He lets the words hang in the air, knowing theyâll hit their mark. Cha-Chaâs type thrives on control, on being untouchable, but Diegoâs never been one to let that stop him.
He halts just out of arm's reach, eyes locked on her pistol for a second before meeting her gaze again, unflinching. Her stance, the way her fingers grip the gun like sheâs expectingâno, invitingâa fight, tells him all he needs to know. Cha-Cha doesnât bluff.
"And I stick my nose where I want," he growls, voice low, dangerous. His gaze sharpens, flicking briefly to her hand, noting every twitch, every breath she takes. Heâs reading her, calculating how quickly sheâll make her move if he pushes the wrong button. "So whatâs your plan, Cha-Cha? Gonna take me out right here in the open? Or is this just a friendly warning?"
The words come out as a challenge, thick with defiance. His hand drifts casually toward one of his knives, not pulling it yet, just resting his fingers on the cool metal, letting her see that heâs readyâalways ready. The tension in the air is electric, and for a split second, Diego canât help but grin, that familiar rush of adrenaline flooding his system. This is what he lives forâmoments like these, where every second teeters on the edge of violence.
The questions made Klaus snort into his hot chocolate. He'd forgotten how much of a square Diego was. With the constant stream of drugs and booze in his system, he forgot a lot of things, these days. Still, a grin spread across his face.
"Well first of all, we'll have to get you a better outfit," Klaus said, eyeing the all black ensemble from across the table. "I know a thrift store downtown, we can get you a new look before we go. As for participating... If anyone offers you a line, tell them you have a heart problem, they're usually cool about that. They don't really want you dying on site, you know?" Klaus said it all flippantly, as this was a part of his daily life, these days. "Smokeables are easy--you ever had a cigar before? Just draw it into your mouth, pretend to take a breath, and blow it out. But if anyone offers you anything that isn't clearly weed? Probably meth. Just send it my way," he added, only half joking. "Mainly, just act like you're supposed to be there. Feel the music, stick by me, and I'll cover for you." The backup plan, of course, was doing whatever Diego was offered for him.
We'll figure it out.
The words make his heart warm. Out of anyone, after everything he'd put him through, Diego always had his back. Klaus's grin softened a bit, feeling the weight of Diego's words.
"You probably will regret it," he admitted, surprising even himself with his honesty. "But I uh. I appreciate it, Di." Emotions were never a Hargreeves specialty, coming out forced and awkward, but Diego deserved to hear it.
After a moment of silence, Klaus caught Diego's eye again. "Hey, could you drop me off at my place, after this? It's just a few blocks down, real quick!" He failed to mention, of course, that he was squatting in an abandoned pizza parlor. Diego didn't need to worry about that. Klaus just knew he didn't want to go back to Diego's apartment again. Not after last time.
Diego couldn't help but smirk at Klausâs snort, the hot chocolate almost spilling from the cup as his brother tried to keep himself together. It was a rare sound, hearing Klaus laugh like that, and despite the absurdity of the situation, Diego felt a brief flicker of warmth. But as Klaus laid out the details, the easy nonchalance of his words made Diego's stomach tighten.
Outfit change? Diego shot his brother a look, eyeing his all-black ensemble. "A new look, huh?" he muttered, half to himself. He could already picture the ridiculous clothes Klaus would pick outâsomething gaudy or colorful, no doubt. The thought made him cringe, but he knew better than to argue. Klaus was right about one thing: Diego didnât exactly blend in with his usual dark, tactical getup.
As Klaus continued, casually tossing around advice about avoiding meth and faking a cigar puff, Diego let out a heavy sigh. It wasnât the specifics of the plan that bothered himâit was the ease with which Klaus navigated this world. The flippant, offhanded comments about drug parties, the way he handled himself like it was just another Tuesday. Diego couldnât help but feel out of his element. This is what Klaus is used to, he thought, a pang of frustration hitting him. This is his normal.
But when Klaus's tone softened, admitting that Diego would probably regret helping him, it struck a chord. Diego looked up, his expression briefly softening in response to Klausâs rare moment of honesty. Klaus didnât often let those cracks show, but when he did, it reminded Diego why he always had his brother's backâwhy he kept coming back, even after all the chaos and betrayal. Beneath all the sarcasm and the mess, Klaus still needed him.
Diego nodded, not saying anything in return, but the acknowledgment was there in his eyes. He wasnât one for long emotional speeches either, but Klaus knew. He always knew.
A moment of silence passed between them, both brothers lost in their own thoughts, when Klaus caught Diegoâs eye again. His voice had its usual carefree lilt, but Diego could hear the undertone of something elseâsomething Klaus wasnât saying outright.
"Yeah, I can drop you off," Diego replied, picking up on the vague way Klaus mentioned his place. A few blocks down, real quick. There was always something Klaus wasnât telling him, but Diego didnât press. He knew from experience that pushing too hard never got Klaus to open up. It just made him retreat further into his shell.
Diego wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then pushed the empty plate away as he sat up in the booth. "But donât think youâre getting out of the thrift store thing." He shot Klaus a pointed look, trying to lighten the moment as he stood up. "If Iâve gotta go to this thing, youâre at least making sure I donât look like a complete idiot."
Hi there friends. Life got so incredibly chaotic for a second there but not all hope is lost! I should be making my comeback and stop procrastinating to get to these replies.
Sorry for the delay and thanks to those who are being patient!

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A small, relieved smile crept onto Klaus's face, grateful for both the more casual tone, and for having his back. Diego had always had his back, even after everything Klaus had put him through. Everything he would inevitably continue to put him through.
"Thanks, D," Klaus said softly, almost too quiet to hear. But the smile quickly turned into a more playful grin, as the air around them seemed to shift. Things suddenly didn't seem so heavy, with his brother here.
"Did I tell you about prison?" he asked, eyes sparkling with mischief beneath the Xanax. "Where to start--oh, I was rooming with this guy for a while, big skinhead looking dude--real piece of shit--and I swear to God, he smelled exactly like the hard boiled eggs Luther used to make. It was awful, I couldn't get a good night's sleep for weeks with him stinking up the bunk!"
Lately, it felt like he was drowning in trouble. But for tonight, he was just happy to have his brother here. Maybe, with Diego here, things would be okay. They could do this.
Diego leaned back, still chewing the last bit of waffle, his eyes narrowing slightly as he mulled over the situation. "So, uh," he started, hesitating just enough to show he wasnât entirely comfortable with the idea of pretending to be a part of Klaus' "scene" so to speak. "How exactly am I supposed to be convincing at this party?" He gestured between them with his fork, an eyebrow raised in skepticism. "I mean... letâs be honest, Iâm nothing like you."
He tossed the fork down onto the plate, crossing his arms over his chest as he shot his brother a sideways glance. The reality of what they were about to do was sinking in, and it brought him slight unease. "I donât exactly blend in at these things."
Diego wasnât wired for this kind of thing. Surveillance? Sure. Punching out the bad guys? No problem. But pretending to fit in with a crowd of people getting high and not looking like a narc? That wasnât his style.
He glanced up, catching Klausâs eyes, and gave him a quick, half-hearted smirk. "And donât tell me to ârelaxâ or âjust go with the flowââyou know thatâs not me." Diego leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table. "But regardless, Iâm in. Weâll figure it out."
It was a commitment, and it came with the weight of all the things that could go wrong. Diego knew Klaus had dragged him into messes before, but this one? This felt different. He couldnât let his brother down, not when things were spiraling like this.
Diego sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, feeling the tension simmer beneath his skin. "But seriously, if anyone tries to push anything on me, youâd better have a backup plan. Iâm not doing that shit."
He shook his head, staring down at the empty plate in front of him. Diego wasnât used to this kind of discomfort, this uncertainty, but with Klaus involved, there was no room for hesitation. Not tomorrow.
After a moment of silence, Diego leaned back, the briefest hint of a smile on his face. "Iâm doing this for you, you know. Just... try not to make me regret it." He shot Klaus a look that was equal parts serious and teasing, but underneath it, there was something realâa brotherâs commitment to seeing this through, no matter how much of a disaster it could turn into.
Getting to replies tonight, thank you for the patience! x
Shooting his brother a weary glare, Klaus forced himself to swallow the bite in his mouth. Couldn't Diego mind his own business? Then again, Klaus had called him. But the judgement, the frustration, the disappointment--it tore at his skin, burrowing in deep. He should feel guilty. Or defensive. Or grateful. Or anything. Thankfully, the Xanax took those feelings away.
The change in tone got Klaus to look up, but he still didn't meet Diego's eyes. "Yeah, okay," he muttered, setting down his fork. There was no way he was going to finish his waffles, anyway. "No downers, I got it." Hopefully that sounded like a joke.
Sighing softly, Klaus too leaned back in his booth seat. In the florescent light of the diner, he looked exhausted, and worried, even through the Xanax. He'd been running from these people for months. Tonight, they beat him within an inch of his life. Tomorrow, either Diego and Klaus take them down for good, or they do the same to Klaus. As much as he wanted to kid himself, he didn't want to go back to prison. And he would prefer not to die again.
After a long silence, as Klaus picked at a spot on his cuticles, he spoke with a vulnerability that surprised himself.
"Do you think we can do this?"
Diego let the silence stretch for a moment, watching his brother push his barely-touched plate of waffles aside, clearly not interested in finishing them. Diego, on the other hand? Well, he wasnât about to let food go to waste.
Without saying a word, Diego reached across the table, grabbed Klausâs plate, and pulled it toward himself. He stabbed a forkful of waffle and shoved it in his mouth, barely missing a beat. The sugar didnât exactly fit his taste, but it was better than nothing. Typical Klausâorder food, barely touch it, and then act like everything was fine. Diego chewed thoughtfully, letting the moment pass without the usual biting commentary.
As he stuffed another bite into his mouth, Klaus broke the silence, his voice softer, more vulnerable than Diego expected. The question caught Diego off guard, and he paused mid-bite, the fork hanging in the air as he glanced up at his brother.
"Do you think we can do this?"
For a second, Diego didnât respond. He just sat there, chewing slowly, processing the fact that Klaus had dropped the usual sarcasm for something real. Something that cut a little deeper. Diego swallowed the bite of waffle, his eyes shifting to Klaus, who was avoiding eye contact, picking at his cuticles in that nervous way he always did when things got too real.
Diego leaned back in the booth, still holding the fork in one hand. He studied his brother for a moment before answering, his voice more casual than the weight of the situation should allow. "Yeah," he said around a mouthful of waffle, "we can do this." His tone was confident, but not overly serious. He wasnât trying to get all deep and emotionalâthis wasnât the time for that. But beneath the casual delivery, there was truth.
They had to do this. There was no other option. Theyâd figure it out, just like they always did.
Diego stabbed another piece of waffle, pointing it in Klausâs direction before taking the bite. "Besides," he added, swallowing, "Iâm not the one whoâs gonna end up in prison. So... yeah, weâre doing this." He smirked a little, trying to lighten the mood, but his eyes stayed on Klaus. The silent promise was there, even if Diego wasnât saying it outright: Iâve got your back.
The urge to tell him to move his feet was there, the persistent itch towards preparatory instilled by their robotic mother that she had never quite rid herself of. Sometimes she used it as armor, coating herself in rigid politeness that forced others to conform around her. But with her brother she knew it would just draw anger and dismissal. Besides there was something enjoyable about playing sunshine to his shadows.
"Thank you." Jo grinned. "I'm feeling very adult today." She knew Diego lived most of his life on harder edges but for her he always tried. And she was always grateful.
"I got you a present."
They never got presents at home, unless there where from fans. The novelty of the thing had never worn off for her. She pulled out the slim wooden box she had hidden earlier. Inside where a pair of weighted throwing axes. With his talent it hardly mattered, he could get nearly anything go where he told it, but she had still payed extra to make sure the axes where beautiful, sharp and well balanced. She pushed the box over. "Open it. "
Diego's brow arched, his knife pausing mid-twirl as Jo pushed the box toward him. A present? It felt foreign, like something from someone elseâs life. They didnât get gifts growing upânot unless it was from fans or someone trying to manipulate them into something. The idea of Jo going out of her way to get him something, something meaningful, gnawed at a place in his chest he tried to keep locked away.
He slid the knife back into its sheath and reached for the box, his fingers tracing the wood, feeling the weight of her gesture more than the object itself. Diego opened it slowly, the hinges creaking softly as the lid revealed the throwing axes. His breath caught, the sharp gleam of the metal drawing his eye immediately. They were perfectâbeautiful, deadly, and balanced in a way that only someone who truly understood him would know heâd appreciate. His fingers brushed over the handles, and for a second, he let himself feel something other than the constant need to fight, to deflect.
âTheyâre⌠damn,â he muttered, the words sticking in his throat. He lifted one of the axes, testing its weight in his hand. It was perfect. âYou didnât have to do this.â His voice was gruff, but the softness beneath it gave him away. He glanced at Jo, eyes narrowing slightly, not with anger, but something elseâgratitude, maybe.
"Thanks," he said, a little more earnestly this time. "These are⌠really something." He couldnât find more words, but he hoped she knew. For someone like Diego, this was as close to vulnerable as it got.
@numberforaname
distant booms and sounds of buildings crumbling into the abyss echoed in the evening outside the tall window, the room silent while june waited in the dark.
everyone had somehow forgotten. or perhaps they didn't care since the timeline was falling apart before their very eyes.
it was their birthday. all of them. something diego had said once in the comfort of their bed gave her the idea for it to be just the two of them. not that she didn't care for what was to be her brothers and sister-in-law..she just really wanted it to hit home.
he'd gone to discuss some sort of plan with the others, june squaring herself away claiming to be 'tired'. she never needed a plan. she'd show up, provide the force fields and the ass kicking. simple as that. the room had been decorated with black balloons taped to the wall and ceiling, streamers and gold tinsel on the wall. there were even knives taken from the hotel kitchen strung up as well.
june had snuck back there earlier that day, forcing kitchen staff to allow her to make the best tres leches cake she could. while they watched and dared not interrupt unless she asked for something.
it was all ready and waiting. gold party hat strung up on top of her head while she lounged on the armchair in their room, party horn in her mouth, ready to blow it as soon as he'd come through that door.
Diego stepped through the door, his shoulders tense, his mind still stuck on the conversation he'd just left behind. As the world outside continued to crumble, his thoughts were tangled in the chaos of what they were supposed to do next. He wasnât expecting anythingâdefinitely not what he saw.
His eyes scanned the room, and for a split second, he forgot about the apocalypse raging outside. Black balloons, gold tinsel, knivesâof course, she'd string up knivesâhung in chaotic celebration. And there, in the middle of it all, was June. She was lounging in the armchair with a party hat on her head, a party horn dangling from her lips, the ridiculousness of it all almost making him smirk.
"Seriously?" he said, his voice betraying the confusion that slowly melted into something softer. "In the middle of all this, you decided we needed a party?"
But there was a warmth creeping into his chest that he couldn't shake, despite himself. He knew June didn't do things halfway. This wasn't just some random distraction from the end of the world. It was... for him. And that meant something.
He closed the door behind him, glancing at the cake sitting on the table. "You made that?" he asked, his tone softening further. "Or did you just threaten someone until they made it for you?"
He moved toward her slowly, the weight of everything outside momentarily lifting as he looked at herâparty hat and all. A small, almost reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Happy birthday to us, I guess," he muttered, his hand reaching out to brush some tinsel hanging on the wall. "You're insane, you know that?"

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diego wasn't phased. luther wasn't surprised. he stood there in silence, eyes narrowing and smile widening while he held a small wrapped box, his brother not even noticing the fact.
" mhm. " he responded smugly, trailing behind him slowly.
" yeah.. I know. " he twisted his lips, gaze trailing down to his feet. " I think the gift itself is about twenty years late. " he was directly behind his brother now, towering behind him with the smallest box in his hand, wrapped as best he could.
" c'mon man. open it. "
he smiled, brows knitting together pathetically. " please? "
Diego didnât even bother turning around, rolling his eyes at the sound of Luther's footsteps trailing behind him. âSeriously, Luther, youâre like a giant shadow,â he muttered, but there was no real bite in his tone. He kept walking, but when he heard the words "twenty years late," something in his stride faltered, just for a split second. His brow furrowed, but he didnât stop, stubborn as always.
Then came the "please?"âpathetic, almost pleading.
Diego sighed, finally halting mid-step. He stood there for a moment, staring straight ahead, weighing whether or not to just keep walking. But then he shook his head, grumbling under his breath as he spun around. âFine, whatever, give me the damn box,â he snapped, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
âTwenty years late, huh? Well, letâs see if itâs worth the wait,â he muttered sarcastically, though the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, almost betraying the hint of something softer underneath all the attitude.
Diego ripped through the wrapping paper with the same impatience he had for most things, his brow furrowed deeper as he pulled the small box apart, eyes narrowing in disbelief when the contents finally revealed themselvesâa Tech Deck.
For a moment, Diego just stared at it, the tiny skateboard resting in his hand like some kind of forgotten relic from their childhood. He blinked, completely thrown off by the absurdity of it, and then let out a small, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. "Youâve gotta be kidding me, Luther," he muttered, holding up the toy between his fingers. "A Tech Deck? This is the big âtwenty years lateâ present?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm, but there was something else there tooâa hint of nostalgia creeping in around the edges, softening the usual snark.
He glanced back up at Luther, the smug grin still plastered on his brotherâs face, and for once, Diego didnât have some cutting remark ready. Instead, he just looked at the tiny skateboard again, rolling it back and forth between his fingers. "You remember when I used to steal these from your room?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost like he was talking to himself. The sarcasm wasnât gone, but it had faded, replaced by something softer. Without waiting for an answer, he flipped the Tech Deck over his knuckles with surprising ease, just like he used to.
[ On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began. Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible. ]