#adult wobbly tooth

[emergencydentistuk]

Wobbly tooth, or the loosening of teeth, is a common dental condition that can affect individuals of all ages, but it is particularly prevalent in adults. While it is normal for children’s teeth to become slightly loose during the process of exfoliation and replacement by permanent teeth, persistent tooth mobility in adults is often an indicator of an underlying dental or systemic health issue. This article aims to explore the various etiologies of tooth mobility in the adult dentition, shedding light on the multifaceted factors that contribute to this phenomenon. Read: https://medium.com/@dentistlondonpro/the-wobble-factor-causes-of-loose-teeth-in-adults-ad6a389bd358

[flower-ghosts]

The videos they play at the dentist are so weird. Who are these appealing to

[dimespin]

Saratoan Life Stages

The simple rule of thumb for guessing a Saratoan dragon's human-age is a kind of reverse dog years - divide their age by 2 and there you are. But as is the case with dog years, Saratoans develop on their own timeline.

They themselves understand their ages based on set of teeth, of which they can have a maximum of 7 across their lifetime.

First Teeth

The first set of teeth erupt shortly after the joey detaches from the mother's body about 6 months after the initial birth and arrival in the pouch. The joey is not yet old enough to permanently leave the pouch at 6 months but a few months later they will leave the pouch permanently and spend a few years clinging to their mother's back instead.

The development timeline for a joey has some similarities with human children (they start talking around the same time) and differences (they take their first wobbly steps as soon as they make their first venture out of the pouch around 6 months)

Compared to their extended lifespan these years are quite accelerated!

This set of teeth as well as the next lacks the pronounced canines the species is known for, very much looking like the teeth of what they are, an herbivore.

This set of teeth is shed at about age 6

Second Teeth

The next set of teeth are heavily associated with the age group called sub-adults, but they aren't officially considered sub-adults until age 15.

Sub-adults are still considered a type of child, but nonetheless are very independent. They are generally at similar levels of education as humans the same age, most of them work and many live away from their families full or part time.

Legally they occupy a separate category from either children or adults, with restrictions intended to protect them like lower legal working hours and it not being legal to sell them things like cigarettes, but they are also legally allowed to live apart from their family even if the family would prefer otherwise.

While they can earn professional certificates and credentials through education they are legally barred from many professional fields and must wait to use those credentials for adulthood. Because of this many take on apprentice or intern like jobs in their desired field to gain experience while waiting to be able to work in the field.

Despite the fact many of them work or are in college and can speak and think as you'd expect of a same-age human, they are known for being a bit childish, still having a drive to play, and sometimes still being emotionally immature and impulsive.

This is the stage at which their physical aging starts to slow down, so they do not hit their adult height until closer to when they get their next set of teeth. Growth does not completely stop but many sub-adults are markedly short compared to adults.

This set is shed at about age 30

Third Teeth

At age 30 Saratoans hit puberty and have their final growth spurt, reaching their adult height around the same time as their teeth start falling out and growing back in (for the Atau full adult height is usually reached around 35, but the tooth milestone and puberty still happens around the same time)

At this age they often become aware of their sexuality and between this and the expectations of whether or not they will reproduce, social roles within their culture are decided and imposed.

As they enter this age group there can be a lot of upheaval in their lives as they suddenly move from education to professional careers, move out, become parents, lose childhood friends and gain new ones, etc., depending on the individual

While they are culturally viewed as adults they are still often condescended to by older adults who view them as still being a bit wet behind the ears.

This set of teeth is shed at about age 65

Fourth Teeth

This set of teeth is associated with the approach of middle age. Normal adults generally dealing with life with now a significant amount of experience, but still with a huge population around them with more experience still.

This age group has a reputation for sometimes being annoying according to elders, as they are second only to sub-adults in their likelihood to rebel. This is the first time many of them have experienced adults (third teeth) showing them respect and following their lead on things, and this makes some start to view themselves as able to question those above them. This is especially annoying as this is also the time when many of them begin being trained for their future as house elders if they are in the position to take that role.

This age group and the next are the ones most likely to make a show of dominance smiling, as the tension between groups of adults who would otherwise be peers becomes heightened. Previous groups had no one to lord their age based social hierarchy position over but those they viewed as literal children, but now with other adults to pull rank on, the age based fights begin to reach their peak.

This set of teeth is shed at about age 100

Fifth Teeth

This set of teeth is associated with middle age and the time shortly after. Many start showing signs of aging during this time, with wrinkles and graying hair starting to appear.

During this time many start to see their fertility slowing down, with pregnancies becoming pretty much unheard of after age 130.

Many in this age group are already taking on important management roles within the house structure, as they are in the important position of both being old enough to command respect from many but still being fairly physically healthy and fit

This set of teeth is shed at about age 135

Sixth Teeth

The last set of teeth many Saratoans ever grow but not the last possible set. This set is associated with elders who are not the house leader. Often seen in the house leader's partner and eldest children within the house structure. Also often seen in older adults who choose to live outside the house structure system.

Saratoans health and signs of aging keep pretty stable from the previous age group through this one, accelerating much more around age 170, when they tend to lose the remaining color in their hair, thinning of the hair becomes visible on the arms and legs, and health decline and age related health conditions start to become a real problem.

This set of teeth is only shed under the circumstance of being left as the most dominant one within a family or group, often due to the death of the house leader when they were the next eldest individual.

Seventh Teeth

The last possible set of teeth when the canines become long enough they permanently protrude from the mouth at all times and unlike the other teeth are dry at all times. Because of this they are called tusks.

Tusked elders are stereotyped as very calm and patient and not interested in making a show of their dominance. They cannot meaningfully hide or reveal their teeth so they tend to relax about commanding respect simply for the sake of it as fourth and fifth teeth often do.

These teeth are only ever seen in the eldest dominant figure within a group. While it is technically possible to develop them after age 140, and much more rarely, as early as 100, it's more common to see them in individuals closer to 160 or more.

Saratoans generally live to be around 200, with the majority dying of old age closer to 190 or so, but still a few live past 200, with 210 being rare but not totally unheard of. There are rumors of even older individuals occurring but the records are sketchy

[fic-over-cannon]

Nothing Fucks With My Baby (Part 2)

link to part 1

jason todd x f!reader

summary: jason has always feared he’d be the monster of his life. what he doesn’t realize is that between the two of you, you will always be the bigger monster, and you will love him anyway.

tags: violence, murder, implied child abuse, manipulation, implied sexual content

rating: mature | wc: 5.8k

a/n: this plot bunny took over my brain and wouldn’t let me go until i’d finished it. reader’s pov can get pretty twisted, so please mind the tags on this one and let me know if i’ve missed any.

Lucy Nesbit dies remarkably young. Only eight years old and she had drowned in a stormwater overflow. Poor thing, the adults had all said. Should have minded her step better, shouldn’t have been playing in dangerous places. The school had held a week of mourning. A tragedy. It hadn’t taken much effort to kill her. A sharp shove, then kneeling on her back until the bubbles stopped, and suddenly there went Lucy. Stones thrown at recess, scissors searching for your hair, harsh names and turned backs all stopped with just a few moments of effort.

The killing of Lucy Nesbit is likely the most important lesson you learned from that school. No one at the foster home had noticed you come home soaking wet, blood on the tip of your shoe. No one had asked you any questions when you didn’t gasp with the rest of your class as the principal announced the death of poor little Lucy, gone too soon. Nobody had noticed that you had been the one to make the world a less scary place. It is a lesson you keep close to you.

Only Jason Todd had noticed anything different at all. Found you in the corner of the yard staring down at the pavement during recess. Tucked his hands and looked up at the sky, squinted.

“Don’t need me to look out for you anymore,” he sighs. Nudges your shoulder with his and says “Lucy won’t be pickin’ on you again.” He’s right, of course. She won’t be doing anything important really.

“Sometimes I wished she’d die so they’d leave me alone,” you whisper. “‘Cause it was bad when you were there but when she’d wait for you to leave it was always worse. Does that mean I’m a bad person?” It’s a thought that’s crossed your mind before. Is there something so wrong, so terrible about you that the well-fed well-heeled could just look at you and know there was something awful about you? The same thing that led to getting left behind, bullied, belittled. Had Lucy Nesbit taken one look at you and known you were something to be destroyed?

“Nah. You’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be best friends with anyone bad.” He grins at you, front left tooth still missing from where you’d helped him pull it out three weeks ago. The bell rings, shrill and discordant, signaling the end of recess.

It’s only years later that you understand the tremble of her lips and the wobble of her chin before she would call you names, dig her nails into the meat of your arm, lead the other girls in pretending you didn’t exist. Lovely Lucy Nesbit, sweet cheeked with glossy curls, had been afraid. She should have been. The new girl who’d only moved to the Alley recently after her father’s embezzlement conviction, oh she should have been afraid of the children chewing her up and spitting her out like a rotten peach. Instead, she chose someone else to make afraid. The little girl with only one friend and no one waiting for her at home. All of that glitz and Diamond District shine wasn’t enough to bury the ugly truth of Lucy.

Jason Todd dies at 11 years old. He dies at the hand of the Batman, Gotham’s own protector.

Three weeks after Catherine had died and two weeks after he stopped showing up to school, Jason shows up at your foster home. More particularly, at the window of the bathroom you’re currently hiding in. The knocking startles you, hands coming away from where they’d been pressed to your ears to block out the fighting. He grins and waves at you through the window, suspicious smears across his nose and temple. You have to stand on the very tips of your toes to push open the latch but you manage it. He presses his face to the bars, hands wrapping around the solid metal.

“Jason?” you ask, tone tinged with wonder. “What are you doing here?”

“Jus’ wanted to tell you I’m okay.” Something smashes within the house and the voices raise. “Couldn’t stick around for long after the funer— after. Didn’t wanna stick around to see if they’d stick me in a place like this.”

“But what are you going to do? Where do you live?”

“Found an empty building that’s pretty warm. Sometimes I find stuff and Mr. Baker at the garage buys ‘em from me so I can buy loads of snacks. You know—” there’s a loud pounding on the bathroom door, staccato sharp, that causes you both to jump. One of the older foster kids yells at you to hurry the fuck up, then slams on the door again for good measure. In a hurried whisper, Jason continues “You know the old building across the park with the purple window sills? Come find me there.”

The night Jason Todd dies, you’d managed to sneak out again. Knew from previous trips the best way to get to the old house was to go out the back and use the garbage bins to boost over the fence. Jason’s not there when you let yourself in, hands careful to put the loose board back exactly the same. He does this sometimes. ‘Finds’ things to sell to Mr. Baker so he can come back with candy from the bodega to share with you. You settle yourself in to wait in the blanket you’d snuck out for him when there’s a noise from the lane behind the house. Clutching the scratchy blanket closer to you, you feel your way through the dark, breath held in your chest like a treasure. The slats nailed over the painted window sills have just enough of a gap that you can see between them without being seen yourself. What you see out in the night causes you to grip the old wood until splinters dig into your palms.

The Bat holds Jason in his grip even as he struggles, even as he swears. Jason’s angry, snarling face is nothing like his smiles for you. The Bat shakes him as Jason tries to twirl out of his grip, head lolling like a doll’s. Jason goes limp as he is bundled into the looming machine parked down the lane. The last thing you see of him is his eyes, wide and fearful.

Jason Wayne puppets the body of your friend for years after. He is not the boy that stood between you and Lucy Nesbit and matched her stone for stone. This Jason Wayne smiles for pictures without baring his teeth as a warning. He doesn’t remember cruel words or the way the world works. He doesn’t remember the lessons and the secrets the two of you had passed between you. No, this Jason Wayne doesn’t remember you at all. The only explanation is that your friend is dead. The fine sweet thing with his round cheeks and charming school uniform you only glimpse in the paparazzi photos printed in gossip rags half-melted into garbage heaps is not your friend. Just another leech of the city with pretty powder and paint, fattened on too much while there exists too little.

You get the news that Jason Wayne has died while at your third foster home since the one Jason had found you in. You find out the same way everyone else in Gotham does, the public broadcast of Bruce Wayne’s press conference. It steals the breath from you, the anger that slams into you. Heat surges through you and it is all you can do to uncurl your fingers from their fists. It hadn’t escaped you that four months after Jason Todd died there was a new Robin in town. That this Robin had a gaped tooth grin that would make even the dull mourning for a girl you hated seem bearable. The red rimmed eyes of Bruce Wayne on the staticky screen of the common room television confirms what you already know: Bruce Wayne is the Bat and he has killed your friend twice over.

Screaming into your pillow that night, your understanding of how the city works crystallizes. The Bat does not protect you, does not make your city better. He takes and he takes until there is nothing left for you. He throws out in a week food that would sustain you for a month, drops money on batted eyelashes and shiny new toys for him to destroy more of the city with. He is not the saviour some people say he is. He will not save you.

You are the Alley girl with the strange knobbly knees and the eyes that see too much. You will save yourself. You will keep your lessons about the ways the world works and what it takes to change them close to your heart.

The City of Gotham is never short of two things: crime and government money to prosecute it. Certifying as a court stenographer isn’t cheap, not with juggling your ejection from the foster system at 18 and having no funds to speak of. Second and third jobs keep you afloat until the scholarships and grants kick in. But by 20 your future is secured, government pension squirreling away into your accounts. You even manage to buy the house with the purple windows. It goes for a song on account of the murder that took place there all those years ago, but brand new flooring takes care of the more suspicious stains. It should be enough, to have saved yourself. It isn’t.

Every day you go to work and dutifully take down every damning word said. You record the lies and the horrors and the not guilty verdicts and every word you transcribe breaks your faith a little more. You have not saved yourself. The world has not changed, you aren’t any safer than you were at 13 and scared that the drunk man calling out crude words might actually carry them out on your walk home. No safety exists save for the pretty little lie you had painted for yourself. The only thing that has changed is that you are not scrabbling in the dirt.

Somewhere along the way, in the mess of bureaucratic paperwork that had become your life, you had forgotten the lessons you were meant to remember. Forgetting had not served you well. It takes a drunken night out gone badly to force you to remember.

A coworker pressures you to come out with the rest of the stenographers, a newly opened bar just close enough to the edge of the Alley to give the old money blood suckers the illusion of danger. The dance floor is crowded but you choose to stay hunched over your drink, wary of this glittering crowd. A man sidles up to you, rests his forearm against yours and offers you a smile that reeks of Texas oil wells and Manhattan construction firms. You look him in the eye as he fumbles through some pickup lines, nearly sick with the realization that he doesn’t recognize you. DUI, ran through a school crosswalk at the end of the school day, one child dead and two permanently disfigured. Got off with community service and a hefty donation. He wants to fuck you.

The police find him behind the bar the next morning, throat slashed and wallet missing, and chalk it up to a mugging gone wrong. He should have known better than to go flashing so much cash so close to where criminals live, the news anchors tut. Unable to withstand the scandal, the bar closes. You savour the top shelf whiskey bottle you’d bought at their closing, the same one he’d tried to buy you and drug you with, and attribute the glow in your belly to having done a good thing. His driver’s license finds a home under your living room floorboards.

The Red Hood arrives and the Alley almost seems to reverberate with the shockwaves. Still, pretty young things with a hankering for a bit of rough to tell all their friends about with champagne glasses in their hands and haughty titters wind up dead. You don’t recognize all of them from work, some of them you simply want power over. To reveal to these silver spoon fed creatures exactly how fragile their influence is. Disposing of them does not save you, but it makes you feel safe to know that the world does not turn solely around those shiny, fragile things. You are careful and you are not caught.

At the courthouse, you watch the aftermath of the Hood’s vendettas play out. Chat about cases with your coworkers between trials just to get a feel for what his game is. He’s an unknown to most of them, but not to you. You look at how the number of drug convictions of minors plummet this quarter, watch at how fewer pimps get brought in for killing their girls, note the way gang violence reduces down to just the Hood’s own orders and you understand. Whoever the Hood is, whatever he is, he knows the same lessons engraved on your heart. That the world is not safe unless you make it, and that the world doesn’t care what methods it takes to get it done.

Your first run in with Gotham’s newest crime lord isn’t planned. Quite specifically, you had never intended to make your way onto his radar at all. He had different plans, however. Taking out the garbage, you all but trip over his feet one late night. He’s slumped against your fence with one hand pressed against his neck. Blood dribbles between his fingers, dark under the fluorescent burn of the street lights.

The gun pointing at your head does not dissuade you from attempting to push him into a standing position.

“If you wanted to die in my yard, the least you could have done is climbed in through the back,” you say, voice measured and cold. “I’m not letting you bleed out in my front yard and make me a target for whoever carved you that second smile.” That jolts a reaction out of him, gun wavering from it’s unerring focus on your face. “So what we’re going to do is get you out of the open and then I’m going to call whoever you want to come stitch you up.”

A man of his size dwarfs the chair set in your kitchen but he will not be moved from his vantage point. Defensive, back to the wall and all entrances in sight. The wound still bleeds sluggishly. Determined not to have this man die in your kitchen, not when he’s actually out there doing some good in the world, you lay out your first aid kit and go for his throat. The gun jamming into the side of your ribs immediately lets you know just how badly you’ve not thought this idea out.

“You’re still bleeding, pretty badly too. I just want to take a look to see if I can patch you up long enough until whoever gets here can do something.”

The moment draws out, neither of you saying anything. With every breath you can feel the muzzle of the gun dig into you further. Something must read as sincere on your face, not that you’d ever be able to name what it was, and he reaches up for his helmet. Pushes a button at the nape of his neck to release it, before deliberately placing it on the kitchen table one handed. He smiles at you with bloodied teeth and, oh, that’s your boy.

“Well,” he rasps, “get to it.”

At that exact moment you press down with gauze, forcing a grunt out of him. Good. Jason’s scared you enough for a single lifetime. Trying to secure the gauze with medical tape and spite, you’re forced to lean into him until the feverish glow of his skin warms your own.

“Not afraid ‘m gonna bite?”

“I know you’re not going to hurt me because you’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be friends with a bad person.” Leaning back, you inspect your work. Shoddy, but it’ll do until someone actually medically trained can stitch him up. Finally, you let yourself actually look at him. Behind the domino mask you’d swear there’s slack jawed wonder. A brusque knock at the back door interrupts the moment and then great big hulking men are carrying Jason away. You know he’ll be back.

The next time you run into the man who might be Jason, you are tripping out of a bar on the arm of your next pretty bright thing, too whiskey-headed to tell that you’re nowhere near as disoriented as you should be after what you’d knocked back. He knocks over a homeless man’s collection bowl and snickers when the coins get knocked down a grate. Grabbing your wrist, he tugs, pulls you into the side alley and tries to pin you behind the dumpster. The broken bottle shard is already in your hand when the man drops down dead. A neat hole in his head sending droplets all over your blouse. There’s no way dry cleaning will save it. The Red Hood steps into sight, gun muzzle lowered. And just like that, Jason Todd — not Jason Wayne — is back from the dead.

Jason kisses you sweetly for the first time after he drives you home from the traveling fair that had set up on the outskirts of the city. The feeling of his lips — soft, chapped, heartbreakingly gentle — slots something broken back into the hollow between your ribs. He kisses you and the axis of your world shifts. He kisses you, and you know that he will look at you like you are everything good and kind that you pretend to be if only you will love him back. The tender thing in your chest growing claws, fanning hunger into conflagration. Loving him will save you both.

He pulls back and you let him. Look up at him from below mascara-lengthened lashes and allow yourself a smile. Fiddle with the hem of your dress and tell him haltingly just how much you’d enjoyed the evening and how excited you were to do this again. Jason’s declared himself as yours for the taking and you will not let him slip through your greedy fingers.

You let Jason court you. Accept the flowers he brings to your door with quiet murmurs of appreciation. Wear soft dresses that invite him to touch but are just enough out of season for the weather so he’ll wrap his own jacket around you. Send him off to patrol with packets of his favourite candies tucked into his jacket pockets and laugh with him over the meals he cooks for you in the same kitchen he had nearly bled out in. You would have done most of these things for him anyway, but now they are your weapons. Each action meant to pierce another hook into his heart until he is as unable to leave you behind as you could him. You will never believe the world is safe without him in it.

The number of Gotham’s most elite reprobates coming to unfortunate ends zeroes out. You’ve got the prettiest up and comer on your arm these days, with his many scars and fearsome attitude. Jason in his many forms makes the world a better place, makes you safer with every bullet lodged in a skull. He is not the same boy that yelled at Lucy Nesbit for you or split a chocolate bar with you in an abandoned house. The cracks show through. Violence drips out of his every pore despite his hand wringing to you late at night. You are his confessor and absolve him of any sin. A fangless creature is useless to you, though you would grudgingly love it nonetheless.

The first time Jason sleeps with you, you engineer it, encourage it. Why? Because it ties him to you. Binds him through sweat and flesh in a way that nothing else but the kiss of death can. Lean in and wrap your arms low around his stomach as he drives you home on his motorcycle. Linger in his good night kiss before inviting him in to see how the flowers he gave you are doing. Sweep your hair away from your neck as you bend down to place his mug of tea on the rickety coffee table. You close your eyes and smile where he can’t see at the feeling of warm lips pressed to your spine.

It’s slow. It’s sweet. You’ve never felt like a more precious thing than in his arms. He looks at you like you’ve hung the moon in the sky and set the sun to burning. You kiss his scars and tell him to give you his stories when he’s ready. One day there will be nothing you don’t know about him. If Jason wasn’t in love with you before tonight, he is now.

You are told the tale of Jason’s deaths and rebirths only once, but it is enough to open up the yawning chasm of fear under you again. The world is not safe, not for Jason, not for you, not when so many of your enemies still walk this side of the grave. Gotham is safer after the Red Hood. Jason is still in as much danger as he ever was. The horror, the possibility that he could be cut down — by Falcone, by Sionis, by the Joker, by the Bat — it shakes you to your core. You want to scream, to rage. What you do instead is kiss Jason on the forehead and let him go to pieces in your arms.

Jason always says you bring out the best in him. If that is true, then he brings out the darkest parts of you. The parts that twist and grow cold until you see the world as sets of acceptable losses for acceptable benefits. In your eyes, any loss is acceptable for Jason’s sake. He becomes lighter after the revelation, no more secrets between you he says. Accepts your heartbreak on his behalf with teary eyes and a wry smile. The day he tells you that Bruce — his father, the Bat — had been the one to carve him open the time he’d turned up in your garden is the day he becomes wholly yours.

“Jason, Jason he shouldn’t have done that to you,” you say gently, cupping his wet cheeks in your palms. He won’t look you in the eyes.

“He was— he was lookin’ at me like I was the monster, like my murderer wasn’t standing there too,” he confesses. “I just wanted him to love me like when I was a kid.” He shatters. “I just wanted to feel safe again.”

“Oh honey,” you coo, shears tucked into your hand. “I love you, and you’re no monster to me. You know me, do you think I could love something truly evil? You do so much good, you help so many people and you ask for so little in return,” your gaze is tender, loving. “I’d keep you safe, Jay, if I could. And I’d do it because I love you. Someone that won’t do that, well, it’s no kind of love at all.” You see the blow land, have already calculated its trajectory and velocity.

“I don’t— but he loved me. He loves me,” Jason insists, plaintive and raw voiced. “Doesn’t he?”

“I think he might’ve once. When you were younger, sweeter. But Jason, everything he’s done since then hasn’t been love. If he still loves you, it wouldn’t matter that you came back different, came back changed.” You can feel the last threads of his relationship with the Bat fraying under the blades of your words. It’s time to make the final cut. “Can you really say he loves who you are now?”

Jason asks, once, if you ever thought about kids.

“I thought maybe I’d foster some day. Save some poor kids the same trouble I went through, so that others don’t run off scared like you did.” It’s a lie, of course, but you know it makes him feel better to think of you as anything but selfish. “Not now though, not with the way the world is.” You rest your head on his shoulder, curl your fingers into his shirt. “Besides, the life you lead is dangerous enough. It would be cruel to bring children into our lives right now. Maybe one day, if the world ever becomes a little safer.”

He hums, thoughtfully, and leaves the matter there. But the seed has been planted in the dark corners of his mind and one day they will bear fruit.

The house with the purple window sills is officially only a home to you, but Jason comes round for dinner, to spend the night in your bed so often, that it may as well be his home too. He listens to you talk about your long days at work, the court cases that worm their way under your skin and won’t leave until you purge yourself of them. Really, he’s more horrified than you were at the beginning of this at how badly broken the system is. You give no names, simply the crimes and the sentences, and even those details are too much to bear.

One night you come home from work silent. Red rimmed eyes dry and sightless, you collapse into him. It takes an hour, more if you count the time spent panicking over a hypothetical injury, to coax the story out of you. A snake in the grass of a financial adviser, stolen pensions, and three suicides. All charges dropped. The testimony of crying grandchildren still not enough to make a difference. It is the first time he demands a name from you. It is not the last.

The day your old foster father comes across your judge’s docket is the day the world finally feels less terrifying. He is acquitted, of course. The testimony of trauma victims are notoriously inconsistent after all, if the witness is truly traumatized and not just lying for attention. It hurts to hear his public defender say those things, but it does make what you have planned easier.

The moment Jason comes through the door you are on him. Clinging to him all weak limbs and fought back tears. He holds you gently and strokes your hair.

“I need… I need you to do something for me Jay,” you whisper into his chest.

“Just gotta ask baby.”

“I need you to kill somebody and I need you to let me watch.” He stiffens under you, but you will not lose him here. “D’you remember when you came to find me at the foster home, the one with the yelling?” He nods, presses a kiss to the top of your head. “That foster father walked free today, acquitted and all charges dropped. I need to know he’s not gonna stay that way Jay, that someone cared enough to stop him, or otherwise I’ll go crazy.” He exhales sharply through his nose.

“I’ll take care of him, jus’ like I take care of all those names you give me. But do you hafta be there? Isn’t it enough to just know he’s dead? I don’t wanna drag you down into the dirt with me.”

“You’re not tainting me, honey. You’re freeing me.”

You watch the man die, a slow drawn out thing as he begs for kindness. His pain means nothing to you. Only the final blow, dealt by Jason’s bloodied hands, shifts the burden of memory from you. You stop being afraid of this particular threat. The body is found scattered across the railroad tracks. Police mark it down as a suicide.

This victory is twofold. Your world is a little safer and Jason has killed for you, on your express order and with you as witness. There is no greater high than this, the power that sings through your blood. Jason will reshape the world to keep you safe. Now you will reshape the world for him.

It takes three more months of witnessing his work and not flinching before Jason brings him to you. In the end, it’s really quite simple. You ask for the chance to show Jason how much he is loved, to let you take care of this one thing to keep him safe. He puts up a token fight, insistent on keeping your hands clean of his business, but the two of you know that your hands are far from pristine. The Joker is bound at your feet by the end of the day. A quick drag of your wrist and he is just another thing to be taken out with Saturday’s trash to eventually be illegally dumped in the harbour. Jason sobs in your arms that night.

He is not the boy you’d wished to have returned to you as a child. Jason is not quite the Bat’s son, or the weapon of the League either. He is some half-raised creature of the city’s own design and you love him because of that. You know he does not see you half as clearly as you see him, but you will accept his wonderful naïveté for all the ways it will let you protect him. Protect you by extension. Jason’s trust, his devotion to you, it is everything you’ve ever wanted. It is more than you have ever expected to have. That forgotten little Alley girl, now the centre of someone’s world.

And so you plan. A list of names a mile long of people who make this city worse just by breathing. Kingpins and crime lords and all their networks, culled from your networks and court cases. Heroes and vigilantes who already work tirelessly to hamstring the work the Red Hood does, uncaring of all the lives he’s saved. A list that, when all of the occupants are dead, will mean you are finally safe in a world that belongs to Jason. Convincing Jason, with all of his infinite love for you, to wipe the slate clean of them all is still no easy matter. Instead, you let the Bat make your argument for you.

Another bar, another drunk cell-less jailbird, only this time you know that Jason is waiting in the shadows, that the Bat is in the rafters. The man stumbles, his too shiny shoes catching on the cracks in the pavement. Jason moves to raise his gun and a flicker of metal sends his aim wide. The man on your arm shies at the sound of gunfire but your grip is iron. A body slides between Jason and his prey and you refuse to let this one escape. The pen knife lodges beneath the jaw bone, catches on something and sticks. His death rattle is unsightly but he goes down easy, life slipping away down the sewer grate. A booted step, heavier than Jason’s, causes your head to snap up.

A wraith looms over you and it’s pure terror that sends your stomach into free fall. The Bat turns on you, advances until your back is pressed up against the brick. A gloved hand reaches for you but pulls back like stung when a bullet narrowly misses a finger.

“Last warning. Back. Off.” growls the modulated voice of the Red Hood. He prowls forward, legs eating up the distance. The Bat simply grunts. Back to the wall, you try to inch away, but the feeling of cold metal stops you. The cuff around your wrist cinches shut so tightly you can feel the bones of your wrist grind together. You whimper, high in your throat. Jason’s fist goes crashing into the cowl.

“I said back off!” the Bat catches his next punch, before returning a hit of his own.

“She just killed someone in cold blood, Hood. You’re protecting a murderer.”

“At least she did something, Bruce! D’you even know what that man did? What you let him do to this city?” he screams the last word then headbutts the Bat.

The alley descends into a flurry of blows, bodies colliding with metal and concrete. Neither of them notice you pick yourself up from knees and flee. Home’s not safe, not until Jason tells you. But he’ll come back for you. You’ve gotten so good at waiting for Jason, what’s a few hours more?

He finds you in the safe house he’d made you memorize the address of way back in the infancy of your relationship. Nerves have you sitting in the dark, too afraid that even a light will give you away. It is a cold kind of silence that blankets the small kitchen with its empty cupboards. Dried blood has started to flake off of your skin and you begin to pick at it. For a moment, the repetitive motions distract you until you can’t bear the prickly feeling on your skin anymore. With a clatter you rush to the tap, the trailing handcuff clanging against the metal sink. A stone rolls in your gut and you retch until there is nothing left in it. Everything rests on this. The future rests on this. You lean back and rest your forehead on the cool edge of the sink.

The sound of the window jimmying open causes you to jump, whirling around to face the threat. It’s Jason, only Jason, flailing around in the dark. The streetlights reflect off of his helmet, revealing the cracks in the patina. You launch yourself at him, fingers curling into the collar of his coat. He smells of blood and grime, but beneath it all, warmth. Jason crushes you to him, hand cradling the back of your head with a tenderness that overwhelms you.

“M’sorry I’m late baby,” he murmurs. “Why’s it so dark in here?” Unable to form words, you simply shake your head and press yourself closer. Fear has always dogged you, but never have you gotten so close to the source of it. Jason raises a hand and wraps it reassuringly around your wrist. “Let’s get some light and we’ll get this thing off of you,” he says while stroking a thumb over where the cuff digs into your skin.

You have to stifle a giggle at the absurd parallel to the night he tore back into your life. The two of you sat at a table tending to wounds inflicted by Gotham’s self-titled vengeance, the uncertainty of the future hanging over you. Hands gentler than they’ve ever been, Jason traces over the blooming bruises on your wrist, handcuffs discarded on the table.

“He’s never going to stop chasing me, is he?” you whisper, slow fear poisoning your voice. “He’s never gonna stop trying to take me away from you. Not while I’m alive.” Jason trails his grip to your palm and turns it over, brings it to his lips and places a featherlight kiss on your fourth knuckle.

“No, baby. Not while he’s alive.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 8

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Your head is throbbing. The hangover of your night of crying greets you like a drumbeat. You cradle your skull and shudder, roused only by a clink from the kitchen. You grumble and sit up, blearily checking the clock beside your bed. The digital numbers stamp your vision. It’s too early for your mom to be up. You can’t even remember the last time she was awake before you. 

You know she won’t be happy about having to make her own coffee. You get up, clumsy steps carrying you to the door as you rub your temples. You go out into the hall, your tee shirt caught in the top of your striped linen sleep shorts.  

You squeak as you stop in the doorway of the kitchen. It’s not your mom. You’re so surprised, you can’t move. You drop your hands, hugging yourself as you stare at Steve’s back, his broad shoulders stretching the leopard print of your mother’s robe. The insinuation of the piece of clothing, makes you choke. 

He glances over his shoulder before you can flee. His gray hair is slightly mussed and you can see his boxers poking out past the short hem of the robe. You sway on your feet. 

“Good morning, sweetie. Want some coffee?” He asks, sleep dragging in his voice, “pot just finished brewing.” 

“Oh, um... I’ll make my own.” 

“More than enough,” he insists as he takes out another mug from the cupboard. His familiarity with the place makes you squirm. 

“Erm,” you bite your lip. 

“Here,” he turns to you with a mug. “You like sugar? Milk?” 

“Black,” you answer as he nears. 

You accept the cup as he holds it out. His lack of shame makes you even more uncomfortable. You are an adult. It isn’t that absurd that your mom would have... needs. It’s just not something you know much about. Nor had you ever really thought about her finding someone like this. She only ever griped about your father and every other man she knew. 

“Wow, I would’ve thought you had a sweet tooth,” he remarks. 

You shake your head, “thanks.” 

You turn to escape with the comfort of the coffee. He hums as if disappointed but you let the sound fade behind you. You close your bedroom door and quickly cross the room, as if to get as far from him as possible. 

You just weren’t prepared. You’re still reeling from the night before and your bout of tears. Ugh. You’re just stupid. You get so swept up in stupid emotions and then you mope around. You sip the coffee and set the cup down. 

You look down at your bare legs and cross them, pulling subconsciously on your tee shirt. Oh gosh. You’d been walking around in front of him like this. 

You grab the cup again. You focus on finishing it, on letting the temperature sooth you. You hear your mother’s voice but it’s distant and indiscernible. When you empty the mug, you go to your bed and sprawl out. You’ll probably just stay in here all day; out of the way, alone. Not much you can do with a headache. 

You close your eyes and drift into a shallow half-sleep. You can feel the day brighten outside the window and hear the chirping birds but your room is shrouded in fog. A knock breaks through your stupour. You groan and roll onto your side. 

The door opens and you lift your head to look at your mom. 

“You’re not staying in your bed all day,” she stomps into the room, “get up. Go for a walk or something.” 

“A walk?” You sit up, head wobbly. 

“I don’t care where but you need to get out of this house,” she snarls, her lip quivering. You won’t ask if she’s used her inhaler, she’s already worked up, “get out of my way.” 

You blink and nod. You stand up and go to your dresser. She huffs, “and don’t make a whole thing when you leave. Just go.” 

You pull out a pair of thin pants as she slams the door behind her. You frown and change, quickly making yourself tolerably presentable. You don’t know that even if your clothes were nicer or your face prettier, that you would ever feel acceptable. 

You take a book and go into the hallway as quietly as you can. The smell of maple makes your stomach growl. You glance down toward the kitchen and stay close to the wall. You creep down to the entryway and slip your feet into your shoes. 

“Hey, off to somewhere?” Steve startles you as he peeks out of the kitchen, a spatula in hand. 

“Um,” you look back and forth. 

“She’s just going for her morning walk,” your mother chirps as she appears from behind him, “aren’t you, honey?” 

You nod stiffly. Morning walk? You can’t remember the last time you walked past the end of the avenue. 

“Oh, I wish I’d known. I’d love to come with. Maybe explore the neighbourhood,” Steve says, “what about breakfast? You wanna eat first?” 

You look at your mom. She grimaces. You shake your head. 

“Not hungry. Thanks.” 

“Hm, alright,” he frowns, disappointed, “I’ll put some aside for you. Maybe another day.” 

He goes back into the kitchen and your mom mouth’s one word, ‘go’. 

You do as she says and you leave. You clutch your book tightly as you come down the front steps and try to figure out what to do. There’s a bench near the park you can sit on and read. A chapter will take a while and you should try to spend more time outside. 

Your eyes narrow against the sunshine. Your head still hurts and your now your stomach is clenching violently. Just the smell of food had you ravenous. Well, there’s be cold pancakes waiting for your return at least. 

You find the bench. It’s not where you remembered. It wasn’t by the entrance but further inside. Still, it’s early and there’s no one there. 

You sit and watch the birds for a while before you open the book. A few squirrels skitter by, chasing each other’s tails, and you smile. You like being outside. You just don’t enjoy the people outside. 

You put your head down and start the chapter. You can’t really remember what happened in the last one. It’s been a while since you were able to focus enough to read a book cover to cover. 

As the morning light shifts, a woman and two children appear at the park entrance. The follow the path to the play place and you watch from afar. Soon, several other kids arrive to join the fun. Their parents stand around the parameter in pairs and clusters, chatting as they watch the younger crowd. You should find somewhere else. 

You stand and notice someone walking toward you. You watch Marge as she approaches, and another woman, you think her name is Callie. You smile at them nervously. Are they mad? You don’t have kids, why are you sitting there? 

“Good morning,” Marge chimes in a sing song voice, “you’re up bright and early.” 

“Morning,” you murmur and peer between the blondes. 

“And how’s your mother?” Callie asks with an edge. 

“Okay,” you swallow dryly, hugging the book to your chest. 

“Mm, great, that’s great. Your lawn looks much better,” Marge praises. 

You nod and slant your mouth. 

“You’re so lucky to have such a helpful new neighbour,” Marge smirks, “he seems so nice.” 

You just stare back at her. You don’t know what she wants you to say. Sorry? Should you have done it yourself? You were going to but the mower broke. 

“What’s his name?” Callie asks. 

You frown. 

“You can tell us,” Marge steps closer, “really? We’re just curious. We want to welcome him to the neighbourhood. I made him lasagna and I wanna know what to call him when I show up.” 

You feel your chest locking up. They remind you of the girls in highschool who would take your lunch tray. You chew your lip until it’s raw. 

“We know he’s been talking to your mother. And you. It’s a small neighbourhood, hon,” Callie chirps, “just tell us his name.” 

You push your shoulders up and sidestep away from them. The bench presses to your knees as you retreat. They turn on you, following with hands on their hips. 

“Don’t run away, hon. We’re neighbours--” 

“I don’t know,” you say. “I gotta go home.” 

Marge sighs and Callie blows a raspberry, “boo,” the former says, “fine, run home to mommy.” 

You turn away and barely keep from doing just that. You don’t know why they care but you wouldn’t guess anything good. They have wanted you and your mom out of the suburb for as long as you’ve been through. Maybe they think Steve would be a perfect ally in their crusade. 

[gumballavocadoharry]

First comes love, then comes marriage; Jack Chambers:

*This is a time jump where Susan and Roger are adults and Jack and Alice are older of course. Some angst and mentions of depression, abandonment and loneliness. *

For @howling-wolf9/, it was her idea and request!!!! I want to give her a special thank you for being so patient and kind through all of this- I know you waited a long time for this imagine and I'm so lucky to have you as my number one fan and I hope I can be as half as an amazing one to you as you've been to me. Listening to my PM rants of my story ideas and keeping them confidential. You're amazing and you deserve the world! Much love to this gal!!!!!

The wedding of Susan and Sean! RSVP your attendance!

The French lace against the edges of the paper were the first thing that caught Alice's eye. How beautifully it was decorated in its neat prim type design. Its beauty resonated with Alice as a sign. A sign of the blossoming love that had been festering between her daughter and her fiancé for over a year. She had possibly expected this- hoped secretly that they would decide to join a union in the flesh of marriage. It brimmed her eyes with tears, some spilling against her soft cheek and dripping onto the head of her yellow sundress.

"Honey?" Jack quietly followed into the room; eyebrows deeply furrowed. "What's wrong?" Alice sniffed and turned the letter towards Jack's direction. "She's getting married, Jack.... our little Susan... my little girl's getting married." Scanning carefully through the letter, a smile slowly appeared over Jack's mouth. "Oh my gosh! Time sure does fly...." Jack licked his lips. "When is the wedding due?"

Alice scanned the letter. "In two months." Jack kept the smile on his face. He needed it. It hid something he didn't want anyone to know. How could it be time already? He thought. How could she have grown so fast? Wrapping his arm around his wife, a carapace covered over Jack like a filling in a tooth. A chinch seeped through Jack- slowly, but surely. It was official. Susan was getting married and two months. And Jack would need to be there. He knew he would.

***************************

Snapped from their dinner, the phone blared through the living room. "Hello?" Alice answered.

"Hi Mom, did you hear about Susan's wedding?"

"I did!" Alice's smile had grown twice within size. "Can you believe it! Your sister is getting married! I'm still in shock..."

"I know.... Sean's a really nice guy. Him and Susan are a really good couple." Alice beamed. "They are. I wonder what she wants us to do.... or what her dress will look like!" Jack watched his giddy wife from the table. Shuffling his meatloaf back and forth against his plate- mixing it in his mashed potatoes a bit. 

"Oh yes, I'll have to see if Susan needs any help with the planning- Oh! Her gown and veil!" Alice's smile beamed from ear to ear. Alice glanced over to Jack before getting back to her conversation. "Oh- okay- here I have to go now, something's overflowing in the pot... okay, talk to you later. Bye." 

Jack, so deeply invested in his thoughts, didn't even feel the gentle touch of Alice's hand smoothing over his. "Jack... you, okay?" Jack forced himself to look up from his plate. "Oh yeah, I guess I was just..."

"Thinking about Susan and Sean?" Jack flattened his lips. "She hasn't even known him that long." Alice tilted her head to the side. "Jack... they've been dating for over a year now. We met him before a few times and he's a very nice young man." Jack sat up from the table, walking to the bar area for a glass of scotch with dinner. He kept silent for a while, making Alice gain this wobbly feeling through the craw of her intestine. "Jack...." Said so quietly, that even the wind couldn't make it out. Alice fiddled with the strands of hair that was swooshed over her shoulders.

"You know.... maybe if we went down there and saw how they were preparing for the wedding, maybe it would remind of how much you liked Sean?"

"I never said I liked Sean- I thought he was nice- but anyone could be nice." Alice rolled her eyes and sighed. "Jack. Come on... this is a happy occasion. And you have to cheer up soon- Susan is probably going to ask you to walk her down the aisle." Jack turned around to see Alice turned back to the table, finishing her dinner. She didn't make eye contact with Jack until he came back to the table and spoke again. "Of course I'll walk her down the aisle, if that's what you're insinuating......" Cutting into his meatloaf, Jack looked up again into the tip of Alice's forehead. "I'm happy for her... that's all." 

Alice met Jack's eyes for a brief moment before turning back down to her dinner. "Good." 

The evening stayed silent that entire night until bed.

***************************************

The clock read 3:09. Jack's eyes were still open- untouched without so much as a single strain that could only appear through genuine tiredness. Instead, Jack's mind could only focus on the rambling polaroids of him and Susan together. A piece of Jack hated himself for such selfish desires to keep Susan webbed up in this lace knit net for his security, while the other sympathized with him as just wanting to spend a little more time with his daughter. But this was more than just simple time together.

Jack- for all of Susan's young life- was her hero. The only man she could depend on for support. Jack would take her into his arms and sing her to sleep. He could make boo boos disappear with one kiss. Jack would take a three-year-old Susan out for milkshakes at the local diner, while Alice stayed home with a nursing Roger. He was the first person she ran to when big people were mean or when tears spilled from her eyes after a bee sting or when a picture, she drew became ruined. Jack could almost picture how it felt to have his arms wrapped around her smooth skin, his nose pressed up to her temple, trying to soothe an upset Susan. And the more Susan grew, the more Jack would try to foster those times. But, as time held it, she grew away from them. Packing inside her Pasadena condo, Jack could only helplessly let Susan walk away.

Hearing the soft snoozing of Alice's breaths, Jack quietly exited out the bed and tip toed into Susan's old bedroom. The walls were still peach, and the windowpanes and door jams were still popcorn white. The room still has this sultry smell of fresh flowers and mused honey. Susan wore this amber and sunflower perfume in her late teens and the room still carried a twinge of that scent. It sent a shred of happiness through Jack. A piece of this closure like she was still here. The closet was empty- it had sat empty for a while- but still carried the presence of Susan in some way. The faded memory of her favorite peach and lavender cardigan that she wore in the spring, and her dark maroon sweater for the falls and her bright sunny tank top for the summer. They all still sat together inside her closet, lank and together like symbols of her past.

The thought of Sean pinged through Jack's brain for minute, before he echoed it out with his own domineering desires. He didn't want to think of Sean, not now. So, he didn't. Instead, he left Susan's bedroom and joined Alice back in their bed.

************************************************

Jack woke up to the dim blue sky- more clouds hovering in it that usual. He rolled to Alice's side, where it was empty and already made up. She had left a note on his nightstand: 

Jack, I went out to grab a few things for Susan to help her with the wedding. Me and Roger will be at her place to celebrate with her. I hope you can join us!

Alice.

Jack felt this twinge of anger peer inside him. Like Alice was deliberately leaving him out of one of the most important milestones of their child's life. It made Jack pounce from the bed and throw on his clothes for the day. Making up the bed again, Jack ran out to the diner for breakfast, before speeding down to Susan's apartment. Pulling in, he saw a black chevy bel air: Alice's car. The twinge grew bigger, but Jack bit into it to collect it- contain it within himself. Jack's legs felt wobbly like Jello. Carefully watching his step up each step, Jack finally made it to Susan's front door, where after a knock, she appeared. "Dad!" She invited him into her arms with such warmth and tenderness, even Jack had to let himself melt into them. 

Coming into her cozy home, Alice's face came into view and then Roger's. Then Sean's. Jack bit his tongue like a reflex flinch- the same as if a fly landed on your arm. "Jack... it's nice to see you here- what a nice surprise!" Jack's smile was tight. He kept his focus on Alice for a moment before turning to Roger, who came to hug him. Jack let himself sink into the scent of his well missed son. Squeezing him a little tighter, it was forever since Jack was able to let his body press against his and erode a deep wedge of affection into him. Pulling away with this soppy smile across his face, Roger let his own curl up to his cheeks, giving the same toothy ornery grin he always did. It eased the swirling tension that seemed to hover over everyone. 

Sean, wrapped his arm around Susan's midriff, making her flush with love and warmth, looking back into her lover's eyes that held this light of twinkles inside them. Jack caught this, and let his smile settle a bit. 

"Well, now since everyone's here, let's celebrate!" Susan exclaimed. 

The room was soon filled with chatter from Roger and Sean talking, to Susan and Alice discussing plans for the wedding- Susan detailing how Sean proposed on the rooftop of a private restaurant in Los Angeles, while the sunset skirted under the buildings. A squeal came from Alice, reminding her of when Jack proposed. It was on the cliffside coast of Malibu. During their picnic, Jack couldn't hold back the impending question he had stored inside him for as long as he knew Alice. Jack remembered it well- it always brought a smile to his face every time he thought about it.

Jack stood in the distance, taking in only the crust of Susan and Alice's conversation. A jaded glance was made over to Sean's direction. He eyed Jack up and down; confident smirk and laxed body tone. He had Susan wrapped around all five fingers and Jack knew it. And it hollowed him. It made fury rush through him like the cold feel of an icy touch. Jack let the fringes of the room singe. 

Sean- light brown hair with swishy bangs, gray eyes with specks of light blue, deep dimpled smile and a subtle clef planted in the middle of his cheek. 

A slight furrow pecked through his forehead. Jack kept biting his anger down- planted somewhere deep into him. Sean made his way to Susan, wrapping a protective arm around her waist like a sash. A thick irk swam through Jack in his bloodstream. It pierced through the layers of flesh he built up inside for this very moment and was now fragile against it. Seeing a man kiss his daughter's neck so passionately, sent this shiver through Jack. It bubbled and boiled until it became this puny ache that made his lip quiver, and his eyes become stung with watery vision. 

But nonetheless, he along with Alice still managed to muster out a "Congratulations!" to the happy couple, leaving their home once evening rolled around. Jack and Alice drove their cars home, Jack's in front of Alice's- something he was happy with. The solitude sauntering through the car, leaving Jack to settle whatever was on his mind in the privacy of his car. 

Tears slowly trickled- quietly and neatly- down his cheeks, leaving a sticky wet trail behind. Jack wiped his eyes, forcing himself to see where he was going. Pulling into the driveway, Alice's car pulled up next to him a few minutes later. Jack tried to plaster on the same smile he wore at the little gathering but couldn't. Like his muscles were too weak, his smile was recharging, and his serotonin just didn't exist. Jack watched Alice enter the house. She didn't knock on the window like he had hoped. Jack knew he would have to pull himself out this one.

*************************************

Dinner was pizza delivered to the home. Alice was too exhausted to cook and maybe she just didn't want to. Not for Jack.

But it was after hours, where Jack was sitting up in his chair, sipping his scotch and questioning himself. Sean never asked for his blessing, but he didn't need to. He could easily swing Susan away to a Las Vegas chapel or courthouse and marry her there without him even sensing it. And it stung. It hit hard into Jack's body more than he wanted it to. He wanted to be happy for Susan and he was... he wanted to like Sean....and he did.

It was just buried underneath something this time. But he did really like Sean. And Sean liked him. 

But it was those years spent with Susan, knowing her personality like the back of his hand. Her being his princess and him being her big papa bear that would run in and growl at anyone harming his cub. Susan would never know the agony he felt that first year of her life, behind the glass window of the NICU, praying for his baby to be healthy again. She would never know those nights he prayed for a baby at all as a young man, striving to make his dream of a family life come true.

Jack seen it all. First breaths, first steps, first words, first period, first dates... now this. Marriage. Sean would now bear the responsibility of caring for Susan- honoring her and making sure she was safe a cherished. The man she would give her life to, the man who would protect her and who she would wrap her arms around like a savior. Sean would become Susan's world, and she would become his. They would collide with each other and let their bond be sealed like thick cement in the pavement. And it disturbed Jack a bit. 

He would no longer need to light her world to see it glow. Sean would hang the sun and moon for Susan and that would be the end of it. Jack would no longer exist as Susan's beaming ray- just a mere spark of the past and all that it held. 

And Jack... for one reason or another, would still be living in it.

Jack shot back to the one thought that still weighed on his mind like rocks. Sean never asked permission. He didn't need it.... he wanted Susan and Susan wanted him, and that was all there was to be said about that. And Jack- whether he liked it or not- had to accept it.

But he silently made a choice still.... to keep his own answer of whether he found it acceptable for Susan to marry Sean. It was tightly reigned on his tongue; undisturbed and quiet, Jack kept it folded on the shelf in the back of his mind like he had to. But it was still there, and Jack would never let it get washed away.

****************************************

It was the end of the month, and wedding plans were still ringing through the air. It seemed to be everywhere: on TV, in newspapers and books, on billboards, Jack just couldn't get away from it! Alice on the other hand enjoyed it. Wanting to see her daughter dressed in all white and walk down the aisle on her special day was more than she could ask for and everything she hoped for. 

Not wanting to needle Susan or stress her more than life was already; Alice took a side position in helping Susan plan her wedding. Roger and Sean would go and pick out suits and suggested honeymoon spots to surprise Susan with. Jack, he would give thumbs ups and happy cheery smiles, while everything seemed to swirl around him like tornado wind.

Jack didn't want to be selfish. Covering his defensiveness like the way criminals covered their tracks, Jack weighed his emotions down beneath his gut and let his logic talk for him.

It was a challenge though. Susan- being so busy with her own life- would unintentionally blow Jack off for ice cream dates or small little lunches together. "She's just so busy, Jack... maybe she'll go the next time." Alice reassured her husband. Jack always held to those 'next times.' But they never came. He wanted them too though. But instead, Jack tried to suck the value from them- pretend as if they were trifling little things that would never matter anyway.

But they seeped into Jack's brain in other ways. Every Sunday evening was a tradition of scotch or bourbon with Susan's baby pictures on his lap. Susan still carried the image of a helpless infant in her- at least to Jack. So fragile like a China doll, still this little baby doll that would grasp her little fingers around his. How much she depended on her parent's gentle touches and their attentive affection. Still that gurgling little baby in his arms, Jack couldn't shake the memory. Sean would sweep Susan away without so much as a thought to how Susan's parents might take it.

Flying her off to the other side of the pacific, away from the protective zone of her family. Sean- could never protect her the way Jack could. He would let her fall hard onto the rocky pavement and slam against the grated cracks. He would swoop her away- away from everything Susan knew and loved, whisk her into the misadventure land of nothing and throw her away once he had his fill. Jack became sure of this. Sean would never be good enough for Susan. Courting was one thing, marrying was another. And neither Sean, nor Susan were ready for it. A gasp of hope shot through Jack. This sense of being able to maybe stop time for a moment, gave him back his adrenaline. Closing the book, finishing his scotch, Jack at up from his chair and tip toed upstairs; small smile lingering over his face.

******************************************

Alice layed in bed, barely even moving once Jack's body dipped the mattress. Her stare was blind and frozen on her nightstand. Jack's body pressed against her back, making her edge a little over, leaving a small gap in between them.

A slight furrow arched over Alice's forehead. A small wrinkle begins to grow there, starting since the first dinner on when she found out about Susan's wedding. 

Jack- assumed he needed to be 'happy' to keep from bearing the brunt of the social disgrace if his selfishness grew out of control- something he assumed being the case as to why his wife would be sore with him. But to Alice it was more than that. It punctured something deep inside like a needle. Reminding her of what had played out through their marriage and their parenting for years; Jack's parenting, that was.

On the day Susan became sick with meningitis, Jack latched into being an overbearing cloak to Susan- hovering over her like a gloomy cloud on a sunny day. Alice knew that this approach would only cause more harm, more pain. She understood just how much pain could be saturated from this type of overreaction.

She knew Jack loved the children to death. She never made a problem of it. But with every milestone of the kid's lives, where Jack would make a fuss from something unalarming, it rang through Alice in a particular way. Similarly in the way it appeared for her with Jennifer Lowe. Alice wept for her friend for days upon the news. Untimely and unfair she thought. But every fiber of anger that wasn't drenched in sadness was thrown at Jennifer's parents. It was their fault, and they deserved what happened.

And every overreaction from Jack just reminded her about those events leading up to day Jennifer went away. 

But now it their daughter's wedding, and Jack couldn't even be happy about that. It always laced with his selfishness and his sorrows- no one else like they didn't exist. And it became too much. Alice's anger had cooled, but her reservations on the matter hadn't. So, the little sliver of space that layed between them, would have to remain until Susan was safely married to the man she loved and there would be nothing Jack could do about it.

Shutting her eyes quietly, Alice adjusted herself in the bed and pulled the covers over her, taking one last glance at the clock that read 2:09.

***************************************

Sean's apartment- located by the seaside on the other side of town. The beige color exterior and the French styled staircase was the first thing that captured Jack's eye. A French vela decor, lingering all around Sean's place, a fresh smell of amber and lavender with a twinge of sunflower. Susan was here, and Jack knew it.

"Could I make you a drink Mr. Chambers?" Jack smiled. "No thanks..." Taking a seat on Sean's suggestion, Jack picked his brain for the words he wanted to come out. "So, how's wedding plans going?" Sean shrugged. "It's.... well... exhausting at times- but Roger has been a huge help in picking out honeymoon spots and matching up what suits would like good for the groomsmen. He's so nice about it- taking time off his work just to help out."

Pride gushed inside of Jack. Roger was a good boy, always wanting to help people. "Yeah, he's very sweet." Jack became serious. "Are you both planning on moving after the wedding?" Sean raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, like are you planning on being in California once you and Susan marry?" "Well... me and Susan have been discussing it and we were thinking about either maybe Napa Valley or possibly more up North like Maine or Chicago. But it's not decided yet."

A twinge pecked Jack inside. "I know, Susan loves California so much- Pasadena is the perfect spot for her. Her chef job is one her main passions." Sean smiled.

"Yeah, she's a wonderful cook. Susan said that she would love to cook in a big city like New York or somewhere like that one day. I know she works at one of the finest restaurants in the city right now, but she told me that was always something she wanted to do."

Would she even be able to keep that job or anyone that makes her happy? Jack thought. "Yeah... Susan's worked so hard to be where she is now, and I'm so proud of her for really sticking to it. Chef jobs can be so harsh, the pressure is demanding and from what Susan's told me, the boss is always yelling at someone." 

Sean raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, she told me that one time when we were eating somewhere about this girl who was let go on her first day for messing something up. It's tough." Sean took a small sip from his drink before a smile peered across his face. "When we get married, Susan said that maybe she would open up a restaurant. She would use her skills as a chef and get the place off the ground with that, and she'd make her money that way. I thought it was really nice and told her that if she'd ever wanted to, I'd support her... it would be nice."

"I know Susan's has so much on her plate right now....in fact, I was actually concerned whether Susan was ready for marriage or not. I still don't believe she always knows what she wants sometimes." Jack smiled, but there was no causality about it. Jack meant what he said, and Sean squirmed a bit in his chair. An uncomfortable spice now fell into the air and Sean could only give a tight pinched smile. Susan- filling him in on the type of Father Jack was, made Sean fully understand exactly why Jack even came over to his place from the beginning. He wanted to believe it to be because he needed time to fully adjust to the news. But he hadn't adjusted.

And Sean begins to feel a prick of anger slither through him. Jack felt it. He knew what he did and so without hesitation, excused himself from Sean's apartment.

*****************************************

Later that afternoon, Jack returned home. Alice was in the kitchen finishing up the dishes. seemingly slamming some of the plates a little harshly against in the dish rack. "Hey babe..." Alice glances behind her to meet Jack's figure before turning back to the sink. "Hey."

Coming closer, Jack furrowed his eyebrows. "What's wrong?" Alice took a deep breath. "Jack.... did you stop by Sean's apartment today?"

"Yeah?"

Alice turned around, gloves dripping of the suds and water. "Why?" 

"Well, I just wanted to know if Sean needed any help with the wedding, that's all." 

"Jack... Susan called me. She told me that Sean called her and told her what happened with you and him. 'Sometimes I don't think she knows what she wants'." Alice mocked. "It's none of your business about their plans for marriage! You had no right going over and questioning Sean like that- and you owe him an apology!"

"No! I have every right to know what this boy plans to do with my daughter!"

"He's not a boy Jack! He's a grown man- an adult and so is Susan. You should treat her that way. She doesn't need you poking around just because you can't accept that's capable of making her own choices!"

"Of course she needs me, I'm her father! She's going to always need me, Alice!"

"Well, then she doesn't want you! She doesn't want you trying to always pick her up after every little fall."

"Alice, Susan is my daughter-"

"She's my daughter too, but you don't see me smothering her like that! Jack, I was angry at you before- I still am- because the minute Susan announced her engagement to Sean, you couldn't even be happy for her! It was all about you and your worrying and your having to say goodbye or whatever- but that's your job! That's what comes with being a parent, learning to let go! Because if you can't, then Susan will! And that might mean she won't want to see us or be around us because of that! It's not always about how you feel Jack and I'll be dammed if Susan cuts me off too because you can't stop being selfish even for one SECOND!"

Jack stood back. "All I'm trying to do is protect Susan, that's all! And you know that....." Jack kept a solid stare on Alice.

Alice took a deep breath in. "Whatever your intentions are.... that has everything to do with you. And only you. You know what's right and what's wrong Jack- and without blowing my words out of context- I don't feel the same way. So, whatever the reason you do, do everyone a favor- keep it yourself and just stay out of Susan and Seans wedding plans. Bite your tongue until all of this is over and you can do what you wish with that."

Alice put the last dish into the dish rack, before snapping off her gloves and walked past Jack to the stairs.

Jack was left alone with only the sound of the sink draining over the downstairs.

**********************************************

Jack drove down alongside the coast to Susan's apartment. Taking in the sand washed blue sky and tan acres of sand that seemed smooth like butter.

Jack had to make this right. Susan would understand. She had just called Alice, so maybe there was a window for conversation. Maybe Susan would be able to see his point of view and how much he was just trying to protect her. 

Pulling into the parking lot of her condo, Jack readied himself. He came up with every reason her could justify to himself. Slamming the car door, it was Susan who spotted him from the window and was already waiting for her father at the front door. 

"Hi," Susan opened the door wide and suddenly, taking Jack off his guard for a moment. A slight wrinkle stood on her forehead, lips set still and sternly. "Hi... Susan...." She shook her head. "You went to Sean's apartment?" Her frown becoming deeper.

"Susan I-"

"You badgered him! You try to convince him not to marry me?!"

"No! Of course not! I was trying to make sure he would let you be happy."

"Like you do?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

Susan tilted her head. "You go to Sean's apartment, you start trying to get him to spill if he'll let me work, or what type of future he wants us to have- our private business! You should never have done that, Dad! You know Sean- you've met him, and you still don't want to trust him. You can't trust me- you have to still be there holding my had for everything!" Tears waved through Susan's eyes. Biting her lip, she continued to stare into Jack's eyes.

"Susan... sweetheart- I'm your father, I just wanted to make sure you were okay! I just want to protect you." He raised his eyebrows. Susan's soppy feeble look turned into a furrowed crossed one. Tightening her lips and clutching her fist into tight cuffing balls, the green in Susan's eyes became vivid and her pupils small and sharp.

"I'm not a little girl, Dad. I'm a grown woman, Sean is a grown man-"

"I know,"

"You don't know- or you don't care! So... I want you to stay away for a while. Me and Sean are planning the wedding- I'm stressed out enough as it is, I don't need this on my plate. Please just go..." Susan went back inside and locked her door. Jack felt like the door slammed against his face- or more like he was slammed against the door himself. Stepping off the balcony, Jack walked down the stairs and got into his car. Sniffling, Jack turned the key in the ignition and left the lot, letting Susan's apartment disappear out of the rearview. 

Tears trickled down Jack's cheeks. A piece of his heart chipped. A swirling feeling fell over him like an umbrella. It drove home with him, even though his thick glass pane vision of tears. Something soured Jack's stomach- something inside his gut that ate away at him, told him how much he screwed up. And he believed it. 

Pulling into the driveway, Jack took an extra five minutes alone to himself. Alice saw from the window- but like before- didn't take notice. The curtain barely flinched, and Jack sat alone in the drenching silence of what he had just done.

**********************************

Just as Susan preferred, Jack stayed away from her, Sean and even kept a distance between him and Alice for a time. Roger had flown back here to California for a time to prepare for Susan and Sean's upcoming wedding. Jack still prepped his tuxedo, his corsage and tie. Silently preparing for the occasion, Alice went around him in beelines, refusing to discus the wedding or anything to do with it to Jack. The chipped broken piece still remained hollow in Jack, but he bandaged it. 

The wedding was right around the corner, and Jack didn't want to jeopardize himself to be anything like a distraction or a problem. So, he would discreetly take his suit to the dry cleaners, Alice would see him dragging it through the house, but never said a word about it. She pretended she didn't notice and would either sip her coffee or turn back to whatever she was reading. But it was still ironed and pressed neatly when Jack couldn't tend to it because of work. The flower was still sprouting from his pocket, and it still had that fresh scent to it. Alice would tend to it just as discreetly as Jack would.

Jack knew this, but it still never made conversation. But now the day of the wedding was here.

Jack- dressed in his suit- accompanied Alice to the chapel. The rooms were crowded and overflowing with family from both sides. Sean had three siblings, Roger was taking pictures and stood as one of Sean's groomsmen and Jack and Alice could only remember or pinpoint certain faces of their families in the crowd. "Alice!" Melony threw her arms around her sister, while their parents stood watch behind them. As Alice and Melony caught up, Jack excused himself and went to find Roger. "Hey Bud!" Roger turned and a smile fell over his face. "Hi Dad." Jack wrapped his arms around Roger and held him tightly enough where his cologne could whiff into Roger's nostrils. "Isn't this exciting? Your sister's getting married!" 

Roger giggled. "I know, her and Sean really do love each other. And he's such a great guy. I hope they're really happy together." Jack tightened his smile. Roger looked back at his camera and politely excused himself. Jack let the distance of Roger sink in more than he wanted. It had been almost two years since he'd last seen him after that one March. It was something he never liked to think about but couldn't ignore it. It followed him like a shadow and harassed him sometimes like a stalker. A lump grew in his throat everytime he saw Roger's face- everytime Roger's face could be pictured with those moments and everything he said to his father. Jack didn't want to believe Roger meant it.... but it never changed. 

And as the he saw the back of Roger's head disappear into the rush of the crowd, it was proof that Roger hadn't changed what he meant, and Jack still had to accept that.

 ****************************************

Jack checked every room, until he finally found Alice and Susan together in her dressing room. A big beautiful white ballgown with a bellowing veil that swished as if it were a natural part of Susan's hair, kept Jack in awe. "You look so beautiful!" Alice and Susan turned around to see Jack with tight smiles over their face. "Oh, hey Dad......thanks." Alice looked at Susan, sensibility swimming through her eyes. "Oh Susan....." was all she could say. Jack kept a tweeness smile over his face. Susan gripped her bouquet of white flowers and let the deep smile cross over her cheeks, protruding her dimples. "Susan, are you ready?" She nodded. Glancing to Jack she bit her lip. "Mom... could you give us a moment?" Alice kissed Susan's cheek and then left the room, but not before rubbing a hand over Jack's shoulder.

"Dad..." Jack looked down and then up again. "Susan....." He swallowed. "I am so sorry for the way I treated you, and Sean and your marriage. I had no right to just come in between you and him like that and..... I am very sorry." 

Susan looked down. She came closer. "Dad... I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to say that you should just stay away from me or Sean... I was just angry, and I was stressed bec-"

"It's okay, I understand. And you were not wrong to say that. Truth is... this was something new for me. But I guess because since the idea of you being with someone who would now be responsible for your happiness and be your first priority in life, scared me. Me and you took care of you for almost your entire life- it wasn't easy to let you go into the city of Pasadena, and it was definitely not easy to give you a way to another man. But.... I was still wrong. I overstepped my place not only as your father, but as another adult- another person. And I respect you, Susan. I love you and I love Sean. I know I still see you as a little girl sometimes, but it's no excuse. And I guess I just have to remind myself of that." Jack came closer, letting a smile form. "You go to your wedding. You're going to be a good wife. You'll be a good mother, you're an amazing daughter and chef already.... I know you'll be amazing at this too. I love you."

"I love you too Dad." Susan let Jack engulf her into a hug. A long hug, lasting until the organ started. Pulling away, Susan hooked her arm into Jack's. "Ready?" 

"Ready."

The pair walked down the aisle to the slow sound of the organ. Big smiles were spread over Susan and Jack's faces. The audience of family and friends all stared at the bride and her father, until they reached the altar. As the preacher introduced the couple. Susan and Sean shared their vows to each other and the crowd of emotions. Alice wiped the tears from her eyes as did Jack. Roger hadn't shaken the smile from his face from the moment he saw Susan appear in her Cinderella dress. A stray tear was quickly wiped from his eyes. As the last words of Sean's vows were spoken, so were 'I dos.' 

"I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Wolfe. You may now seal your vows with a kiss." Sean and Susan leaned in and kissed each other passionately as the crowd cheered. Susan and Sean run down from the altar and through the pathway between the seats. The crowd followed them into the community center where the reception began.

******************************

As the car was ready, Susan and Sean gathered around Susan's family. "We're headed to Tampa," Sean winked to Roger, who winked back. 

Alice threw her arms around Susan, as she cried into her silky hair. "We love you sweetheart.... be a good wife.... take care of each other, okay?" Susan nodded against Alice's neck. She pressed several kisses to her daughter's cheeks before letting her go. Alice clutched her tissue while watching Roger say goodbye. "Name your son after me," Susan laughed before pulling out of the hug from Roger. "Kidding, kidding!" Roger kissed his sister's cheek before stepping aside and allowing Jack to hug Susan.

"Goodbye baby girl.... I love you... I'll miss you." He cried into Susan's hair. And Susan finally cried, ushering a family hug. Sean was mingled into it by Roger. "Take care of her, Sean... okay?" 

"I will." He smiled with a nod. 

As the newlyweds drove away to their honeymoon, Jack, Alice and Roger looked on at the car that sped off into the glistening sunset. Jack let tears fall from his face freely as he stared well into the sunset, even after the car was long gone. The broken piece had been mended. It was sealed with a fresh new coat of pride and overwhelming warmth. 

Jack knew it would take some time, but he would never reject the idea of his daughter being Susan Wolfe, with the love of her life. 

Taking one last look into the sun, Jack smiled happily to himself before walking back to join the rest of his family.

[ennaku-sirri-da]

Viva la Pompeii

( Plaintext: Viva la Pompeii)

[ ID: Fanart of Dr Habit and Kamal Bora from the game Smile For Me. This art is for an AU of the game called Roseverse. The style is crayon-like.

The changes in the artists interpretation of the deisgns are as follows. Kamal has a lot of acne, eyebags and thick brows. His hair has streaks of older age in it and is greying. He wears a rose pink shirt and dark green pants with lighter stripes. Habit has a muppet-like appearance with fur, longer pink two-toned hair, cheek patches with a splash of freckles. He has on lipstick. His long coat has a bush-like collar with feathery parts. His coat is made of a fuzzy material. In his braided hair are many lillies of various shapes and colors, crowned near his ear is a big Tooth Lily. Both their heads of hair are messy.

Habit carries Kamal. He crookedly grins at him to comfort Kamal, revealing broken teeth. He reaches up a bandaged, bloodied hand to wipe Kamals tears. Kamal smiles back through difficulty, his arms thrown around Habit and legs grasping below.

Black baby sheep surround them, baaing and jumping, making splashes in the water. It is raining. Small flowers fall and float in the water. On either side, tall stalks of bright lavendar flowers sway in the scene. The clouds above are dark and heavy. Through them, a spot of sunlight shines down on Habit and Kamal. End ID]

--

You think...

About him carrying you.....

When it rained.....

Was always raining for you.....

Dark baby sheep baaing and crying on their silly wobbly legs around you two,

So strong; still. They were going to grow and get steadier to bear and feed their own lambs. Powerful lil gals. Strong like Habit patting you with his tremor-bandaged hands....

Gentle lashed sheepey doll-eyes... Gentle like how he'd learned through trial n' error to handle you with maximum care.....Never pat the back too much; you'd weird-belch and feel embarassed for not growing past baby behaviour,

So sweet...The smell of the like a googol lilies youd braided in; some of the happiest moments of your life were and are with him

Strong Habit...

Gentle Habit...

Sweet Habit.....

My bestest friend....

Monster Habit. You loved them all; all of them; all of him,

Your turn to carry him now. Hope the old busted back can handle that heh-

It had begun again. You don't mind.

That's what friends are for.

---

Well, the scene from my fic is a flashback to when they were kids..a flashback from Kamal when hes an adult, that is. But I decided to draw both of them grown up here. Just felt fitting somehow to tie my whole " Habit and Kamal messing around in nature" series together.

You can read the whole thing here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51047383

Happy 5th anniversary, Smile For Me!

[pumpumdemsugah]

You know when you're little and you ask your mum to look at your wobbly tooth and she says she won't touch it and then gently holds your chin and pushes it out your mouth ?

Had the adult version of that happen to me ( not my teeth lol ) and I had flashbacks about how rough my mother is. I've been an adult for so long I forgot who this woman is

[talictries]

FNS Chapter 30 Preview

Charles has never been so happy in the entirely of his ten-year-eight-month-and-one-day-long life. Because today, is the start of the best, the funnest, the coolest summer school holiday season extravaganza ever!

Even better, he woke up last night to a weird feeling in his mouth and he lost a tooth! He only has seven more baby-teeth to lose now before he’s a full adult!

School holidays don’t start till today, Monday, June the first, Charles thinks, and thinks he’s right. 

And this school holiday has to be super fun and filled with adventures because next summer holidays he’ll be about to entire high school and high-schoolers don’t do adventure they ‘stick-to-the-status-quo’ like he over-heard in that movie Carlos and his girlfriend watched.

Does he have any idea what status-quo’ means? No. But he thinks it’s about high schoolers already knowing exactly who they are and what they’re good at, and even though Charles thinks he’s pretty good at ballet, he doesn’t really know who he is yet.

Woah, he stops rummaging for snacks - standing perfectly balanced on a wobbly chair to reach the top shelf Papa thinks he can’t reach. That was a super mature thought. I really am about to be a Year Six.

[bookofkellz]

Now we are getting into my picture book series! Well, sort of accidental picture book series. I did not pitch this book as a series initially but got very lucky with my ideas and pitches!

I Love My Fangs

Written and illustrated by me!

Is a vampire still a vampire if his fang is all wobbly? Find out in this funny and endearing spin on the classic first lost tooth story. Young Dracula loves his fangs. They are pointy. They are sharp! They are a cherished family trait. So one day, when a fang wiggles…and jiggles…and falls loose, Dracula doesn’t know what to do. He tries pushing it back in. Then taping it. Then sticking it. Because a vampire can’t have only one fang!…Right?

Places to purchase: IndieBound | Barnes & Noble | Amazon | or wherever you prefer to buy your books! 

Fun fact: This book was actually my second book that came out! I decided to post about it later though since it eventually became a picture book series, which wasn’t planned as I mentioned before! I just got very lucky.

The idea came from me trying out Storystorm, a picture book idea generating challenge that takes place at the beginning of the year. The idea is for a solid month, you try to come up with a picture book idea every day. You don’t have to write the full script or dummy. Just come up with the basic concept. 

I Love My Fangs was one of my Storystorm ideas!

I had wanted to do a book on teeth falling out and a kid not wanting to give up his teeth. I also wanted to write some monster books!

When I originally pitched this book, I was worried it was a bit too weird... and it was for some but it found it’s home with Simon & Schuster! 

I’ve done a few book events for this one specifically where I dress up in a bat hoodie. Same bat hoodie that I actually ended up wearing for this past Halloween!

I don’t remember much from when I was actually losing teeth as a kid but I DO remember when my childhood puppy lost her puppy teeth for her adult dog teeth.

She used to chew on socks when the puppy teeth gave her trouble. So much so that we would sometimes find puppy teeth in our socks later when she was finally successful in getting the puppy teeth out!

Teeth are weird. 

This book was also created using the ipad, procreate, photoshop, and yiynova!

I’ll talk more about this book being a series later with the next book!

[dreamy625]

This rockstar life - 3.14 Communication breakdown

Words: 2357

Content: I don’t believe it, actual plot! Angst, drinking, mention of drugs but no drug-taking.

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

“Oh god. Is he all right?”

“That was two days ago! Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“Well fat lot of good that’ll do, they never do anything.”

“But he’s stable now? And talking and everything?”

“Thank god. So what…”

“Has he agreed to go?”

“Then no, you can’t send him against his will.”

“No I can’t. And I won’t. He’s an actual adult and he gets to make decisions about his life. Even though he is spectacularly bad at it.”

“Well I would be all for it if I had any hope that it would work. But it never does, does it. In fact, it makes him worse. You know he’ll just go on a massive binge the minute they let him out.”

“That’s a twelve step thing isn’t it? That’s even more useless.”

“Look, I know you Americans don’t understand this, but Steve, like most English people, believes in god about as much as he believes in the tooth fairy. So anything that relies on the intervention of a higher power is hopeless. The nearest thing he’s got to a higher power is Jimmy Page. And he’s a heroin addict.”

“Still no. Not unless he agrees to it.”

“I just feel like you want to put him somewhere so he’s not your responsibility, but that’s not what he needs. None of those places ever deal with the real problem.”

“Yes but that’s just temporary. The alcohol isn’t the problem, or not the… core problem. Drinking is the coping mechanism… the medicine for whatever is really wrong with him.”

“I don’t know, I’m not a bloody psychiatrist. And neither are you.”

“I am not being hostile. Look, the only person who’s ever done any good was the counsellor at Highcliffe. Maybe we can get him booked in there? Just as an outpatient. Unless he says otherwise.”

“Fine. I’ll deal with it. As you say, I am indeed very familiar with that institution.”

“I’m sorry Peter, but you’ve been packing him off to hospitals and treatment centres and holistic healing whatnots for at least five years now and it hasn’t done the slightest bit of good. So maybe just… leave him be.”

“Okay, then I’ll come over and get him. Will the hospital keep him in until tomorrow?”

“Right. Can you at least book me a plane ticket? And two to come back again.”

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

Steve was almost entirely silent on the way from the hospital to the apartment, to pick up his stuff as packed by the devoted Malvin. He looked like shit, ghostly pale under four days of beard growth, with shaking hands, which I hadn’t seen since his first days in the clinic nearly two years ago. We were in the second cab, nearly at the airport, when he finally spoke:

“Are we really going home?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Mensch said… I have to go… to another…”

“I said he couldn’t send you anywhere unless you wanted to go.”

“You stood up to Mensch?”

“I guess I did.”

“You’re fierce when you need to be.” He managed a lacklustre smile before lapsing into blank silence again.

He trailed along behind me as if half-asleep as we navigated check-in, where I wrote a ridiculously large cheque to get many-times the standard baggage allowance, including three guitars, accepted by the harried clerk, got through Security, and found the right gate. I don’t know if there was some kind of VIP channel we could have gone through, Q Prime had just booked us business class tickets on a regular Heathrow shuttle flight and it hadn’t occurred to me to ask if there were usually special arrangements for transporting rockstars. Through the whole process I was afraid that someone would take a close look at Steve and decide that he couldn’t be allowed to fly in that state, but apparently shambling, glassy-eyed Englishmen are not that noteworthy and no one said anything. Finally we boarded and as I sat down my legs felt as wobbly as if I had climbed a mountain over the last twenty-four hours. As the plane taxied, I looked across at Steve and saw that there were tears trickling down his cheeks. As soon as the seatbelt light went off he clambered as much onto my lap as the armrest would allow and we clung together for the entirety of the short flight. 

By the time we’d got off the plane, waited for all the luggage, found a cab, and made it back to Chelsea it was almost ten o’clock. Once we got inside I just left all the bags in a heap in the hall and propelled Steve up the stairs to our bedroom. He just stood there, docile as a sleepy child, as I pulled off his clothes and pushed him under the shower. Concentrating on getting him warm, and ridding him of the hospital smell, I left the tangled hair. A problem for another day. It was only a few weeks since I’d seen him last, but he was noticeably thinner, every bump of his spine distinct under my hands as I soaped his back. I kept my head angled down so he wouldn’t see the distress in my face. Out of the shower and dried off, I wrapped him in one of the fluffy robes left from the Hysteria tour and he ambled into the bedroom while I quickly wiped the smudgy remains of make-up from my eyes and dragged a comb through my own hair. The person in the mirror looked like she’d fled from a warzone. 

“You should eat something. Are you hungry?”

He made a face.

“Soup?”

Another face and shake of the head.

“Well… tea then?”

“Okay.”

He drank the tea, and ate a couple of bites of the toast I’d optimistically brought with it before pulling off the robe and burrowing under the covers. I climbed in beside him and switched off the lamp. He was curled into a ball but unravelled enough at my touch that I could spoon him, and he held tightly onto my hand. After a little while, his grip loosened and I thought he was falling asleep, but then he murmured, oh so quietly, 

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“I know baby, I know. We’ll sort it.”

Even though I’d been awake for about 40 hours by then, I couldn’t sleep and just lay there listening to his too-fast, too-shallow breathing, thinking about whether the ‘this’ he couldn’t do anymore meant the band, or… everything. He’d been relatively stable, with some ups and downs, yes, but nothing life-threatening, for so long that I’d convinced myself he was fine. For a given definition of fine. And a given definition of convinced. If I’m honest, I think I was just refusing to see that everything - him, me, us - had been getting worse since that horrible Christmas, because I didn’t know what to do about it. I do not feel grown-up enough to deal with this. Eventually I must have drifted off, to be woken again just as it was getting light by Steve twitching and moaning in his sleep. I made soothing noises and stroked his shoulder until the dream passed, and then he seemed to be sleeping more naturally, with slower breathing. 

When I wake up again, it’s to bright sunlight coming through half-drawn curtains and an odd smell. As I reluctantly blink open my gritty-feeling eyelids, I see Steve next to me eating a banana and drinking orange juice. He looks, well, still bad, but less awful than yesterday. 

“Hey. Feeling better?”

“Sort of. Not feeling sick anymore at least.”

The banana smell is making me nauseous, but I keep that to myself. He needs to eat and I don’t want him to stop on my account. His skin, though still pale, has lost the deathly grey tinge, and his hands are steady holding the glass. Which probably means… 

“Is there vodka in that?”

His face couldn’t hide anything if he tried. “A bit.” he admits.

“Maintenance dose huh?” 

He nods. 

I haul myself upright. “Well I need my fix too. Of coffee. Want some?”

He shakes his head.

“And then, will you be up to talking?”

He nods again.

“In actual words?”

Smiling, he makes the hand gesture for maybe.

When I get back with the pot of coffee (I had remembered that he doesn’t want any, but today I think I’m going to need the whole thing for myself!), he’s snuggled down again, duvet pulled up to his nose. Being July, it’s not exactly cold, but maybe he feels safer that way. Quickly I gulp down a cup of the magic caffeine potion and slip down beside him. It’s so tempting to just… not. Not start the conversation, just pretend that everything is fine now. He looks so sweet and vulnerable, and even relatively healthy in the golden sunlight, and the relief of getting him back makes me want to just hold onto him as tight as possible, keep him here and never let the world touch him again. But that would only last until the next phonecall from Peter. So, we talk. Quietly. Gently. Lots of pauses for thinking. Some crying, mostly me. Cigarette breaks, mostly Steve. Almost like proper functional adults. Eventually he drops off to sleep again, and I won’t wake him because he really needs to rest, but it doesn’t matter because by then we’ve got the outline of a plan. Or if not a plan, at least the acceptance of what needs to happen. Now we just have to be strong enough to stick with it. 

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

“I can’t. I just can’t.”

A week later, both still hiding under the duvet long after the alarm clock has rung, Steve is besieged by anxiety and second thoughts. I’m trying to be supportive, but it really is a life-changing decision. And one which only he can take and only he can enact. And to be honest I’m almost as terrified as he is. The band, and everything that goes with it, is a major source of the pressure that crushes him, but also it gives him structure and purpose, and it’s been his whole life since he was eighteen. I don’t know what he’ll do, who he’ll be, without it. After talking to Phil yesterday, today is the day he’s supposed to tell the rest of the guys. And then Peter and Cliff. And to say he’s dreading it would be an understatement. I think this is the worst I’ve ever seen him. He drank almost an entire bottle of vodka last night, no pretence of it being a sociable activity, barely even bothering to dilute it, just a grim, deliberate, unstoppable emptying of the bottle to get as far away from reality as possible. He was itching for some coke as well, but he’s out of practice with that and fortunately the only contact he still has in London wasn’t answering the phone. Anyway, the booze was enough and he eventually passed out on the sofa about 1am. I did the whole recovery-position - blanket - bucket procedure, and resigned myself to a sleepless night keeping watch over him, prodding him periodically and making sure I at least got a grunt in response. A little after 3am he woke up, threw up, and then I was able to half-drag him up to bed, using all the pillows to prop him on his side once again, where he snored like a warthog for the next four hours until the alarm went off. 

Now, I think he’s gone through dread and out the other side into a kind of blank paralysis. Not hungover (I guess he probably puked half the bottle back up), but white as a sheet and huge eyes staring at nothing in the darkness under the quilt. There’s nothing I can say or do that would make it better. It’s definitely one of those ‘the only way out is through’ situations, but I’m not sure that’s a helpful observation to make when the ‘out’ part is a scary unknown future that you don’t necessarily want either. The car’s coming in an hour for the flight at noon. Phil’s going to meet us at the airport and go to the studio with him. I’ll wait at the hotel until after the meeting and the call to Q Prime in the States; this is definitely a band-only thing, and I do not want to be Yoko. Phil’s going to ring me when it’s all done and then, well there is no real plan for then. It depends how it went, what state he’s in. I can’t think about it now. It’s too much.

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

Captain’s log supplemental - we’re all having dinner at Joe’s house. I think. I hope. It went okay? 

They are making jokes, all at Steve’s expense, pretending to forget his name and saying ‘you still here?’ every time he walks into a room. But it seems good natured, no barbs, and I know this is how boys, these boys anyway, show affection. Joe, when he thinks no one is watching, has something of the look of a kicked puppy, so I think he’s more upset than he’s making out, but from the rest all I see is kindness and, not relief exactly, but like a weight has lifted. It must have been so tough to watch their friend struggling, horribly worried about him but also relying on him to keep doing his job so the band would stay afloat. 

From the quick debrief in the taxi, predictably Peter and Cliff had not reacted with unmitigated joy. But I think they recognised a fait accompli staring them in the face. They’re going to ‘thrash out a deal’, which definitely includes finishing the album and doing the tour that follows. I guess Steve’s going to need a lawyer to deal with it all, but for now he seems content with the general plan. Would a clean break right now have been better? Maybe. In the short term. But I think the guilt would have got to him in the end. I don’t know, it doesn’t feel entirely real yet. 

[solsikke-multifandom]

New best friend (please, be forever)

Somewhere in the tree, hidden among branches and leaves, four trollings were cleaning, playing, and dancing, they would make this hidden place their refuge. A violet glitter trolling with afro hair was in charge of sweeping and moving the leaves. A trolling with red and green dreadlocks moved the old and heavy objects. A blue trolling with braids decorated the place. And another orange trolling with blue dreadlocks was asleep with his head resting on the music player.

A high-pitched scream interrupted the soft sound of the background music.

"GUYS GUYS GUYS" a trolling with a missing front tooth, orange skin, and many bandages ran in excitedly, hiding something.

His friends looked at him sideways and continued with their business, accustomed to his noisy nature.

"Hi Lo-loon" -he greets- "If it's another animal, you'll clean up the mess"

"No, it's not an animal" -he says with a mischievous smile-

The trolling with red and green dreadlocks speaks to him without looking, carrying some cushions- "Drop the machete Lo"

"It's nothing like that" -his smile would practically split his face, before another of his friends spoke, some baby giggles were heard-

They all looked at him, stopping what they were doing, even the sleeping troll woke up.

"Lolo? What-" -The orange trolling interrupted her.

"I PRESENT TO YOU OUR NEW BEST FRIEND" -he says as he pulls the baby out from behind him, lifting him up on his head, wobbling, he quickly lowers him to the ground-

A silence fell, you could almost hear them blinking, almost, they had their eyes fixed on the baby their friend brought, his skin was blue, his hair was bright turquoise, he had pink glasses on his head and rosy cheeks.

The glittertroll was the first to react, walking towards both of them- "Oh my gem, how CUTE" -she took the baby from her friend, taking his hands, the little one laughed at the attention he was receiving-

"Dude… where did you get him?" -asks the one with blue dreadlocks, almost completely awake-

"I was looking for candy and I found this little caramel" -he squeezes the baby trolling's cheek, which makes him laugh-

"Ok… what's his name?" -asks the violet one-

"Oh, I don't know"

"How do you not know?"

"Didn't his adult in charge tell you?"

"…"

"Lolo?"

"Well… you see…"

"…"

"Logan!"

[hapalopus]

this is gonna be a weird question but do you know anything about incest in guinea pigs?

long story but we adopted a few from a guy that had like seventy in his garage and they weren't gender separated or anything.

one of our piggies has extra toes, she seems pretty fine but i guess i was just wondering if you know anything about possible medical conditions?

Disclaimer: I'm not a veterinarian or a guinea pig expert. I've only had piggies for a year, and, while I've read extensively about them in that year's time, I still lack the experience of a long-time keeper.

What I do know is that, unless the inbreeding is intense, the main concerns from inbreeding are recessive diseases and infertility. I don't have a full list of recessive diseases, but a quick google search tells me that guinea pigs can suffer from hereditary deafness and palsy. These are rare, though, and unlikely to pop up in pet populations, no matter how inbred.

There are also some issues associated with certain colors and coat types:

Red eyes: Poor eyesight. Might react strongly to humans entering their field of visions, or may not react to humans at all. Often have trouble finding treats and need a bit of extra help.

Satin fur: Most satin guinea pigs, and guinea pigs that carry the sating gene, suffer from satin syndrome, which can cause kidney disease, osteodystrophy, heart problems, and thyroid problems. Symptoms include abnormal gait, tooth problems, weight loss, and bone deformities.

Roan/dalmatian: Roans and dalmatians are healthy on their own, but if bred to each other they produce a homozygous roan/dalmatian, which is also known as a lethal white. Lethal white guinea pigs have deformed/small eyes, tooth problems, no pigment, and are usually blind and deaf.

I'd be more concerned with diseases caused by neglect by their previous owner. Make sure their teeth are healthy, that they don't have mites or respiratory infections (guinea pigs DO NOT sneeze unless their environment is really really dusty or they have a respiratory infection. If you guinea pigs are sneezing, and their environment is clean, they almost certainly have a respiratory infection), and that they aren't showing symptoms of scurvy.

Generally, if your pigs are showing any of the following symptoms, call an exotics vet/rodent vet (do not use a general cat/dog vet unless you really have to):

Hair loss

Flakes, crumbs, or bugs in the coat (most rescue pigs have lice and/or mites, so give them a thorough check)

Crusty, glassy, or milky eyes (look up 'hay pokes' on google)

Enlarged lymph nodes

Enlarged mammary glands

Change in coat texture, of an adult pig, to suddenly be more rough, wiry, or scruffy

Lethargy

Slow, wobbly, or strained walking

Swollen joints

Swollen, red, or dry/scabby feet

Sneezing or coughing

Discharge from eyes or nose

Soft, greenish/yellowish poop (poop should be dark brown, almost, black, and oblong)

Wounds (usually caused by itchiness, infection, parasites, or cagemates - if a wound is on the face, separate pigs immediately, as this is a symptom of serious fights)

Sudden increased thirst

Sudden loss of appetite (extremely serious symptom; gut stasis can be fatal within hours)

Head tilt (serious symptom; usually the result of an inner ear infection, which is very painful, but can also be a symptom of neurological problems)

Seizure (typically looks like 'shivering'; can be a symptom of imminent death. Here's a video)

[duskodair]

the thing about being an adult still with baby teeth is that every now and again you get a wobbly tooth and you know it doesn't mean the tooth is gonna fall out, it just means your mouth is about to piss you off for a bit

[luckystorein22]

Deliciously Irresistible: Jell-O Peach Gelatin Mix The Perfect Summertime Treat!

With the arrival of summertime, we all crave refreshing and delicious treats to beat the heat. Look no further, as Jell-O Peach Gelatin Mix emerges as the ultimate summer indulgence! Bursting with fruity goodness, this delightful dessert captures the essence of the season, making it an absolute must-have for your warm-weather gatherings. Get ready to tantalize your taste buds with this mouthwatering treat that will have you begging for seconds!

1. Taste of Summer in Every Bite:

Imagine sinking your teeth into a spoonful of cool and wobbly peach-flavored gelatin. Jell-O Peach Gelatin Mix takes you on a sensory journey, delivering the taste of sweet, juicy peaches with every bite. It's vibrant color and refreshing texture make it the epitome of summer goodness.

2. Versatile and Creative:

The beauty of Jell-O Peach Gelatin Mix lies in its versatility. From simple and elegant desserts to fun and creative culinary creations, the possibilities are endless. Create a classic gelatin mold with fresh peach slices for a timeless treat, or incorporate it into layered parfaits, fruit salads, and even frozen popsicles. Unleash your culinary imagination and let Jell-O Peach Gelatin Mix be the star ingredient of your summer-inspired masterpieces.

3. Easy Preparation:

Not only does Jell-O Peach Gelatin Mix taste incredible, but it is also incredibly easy to prepare. Simply mix the gelatin powder with boiling water, add cold water, and let it chill until it sets. In just a few simple steps, you'll have a refreshing and satisfying dessert ready to impress your friends and family. Whether you're a seasoned chef or a beginner in the kitchen, Jell-O Peach Gelatin Mix guarantees a hassle-free and rewarding experience.

4. Fun for All Ages:

The joy of Jell-O Peach Gelatin Mix extends beyond its incredible taste. It's a dessert that appeals to everyone, from kids to adults. Kids will delight in the wiggly, jiggly texture and the burst of peachy flavor. For adults, it brings back fond childhood memories while offering a nostalgic yet sophisticated treat. Whether you're hosting a family gathering, a barbecue with friends, or a pool party, Jell-O Peach Gelatin Mix is sure to please everyone.

5. Healthier Twist:

Embracing a healthier lifestyle doesn't mean you have to sacrifice the joy of indulging in delicious desserts. Jell-O Peach Gelatin Mix comes in a sugar-free option, allowing you to enjoy the same delightful flavors with fewer calories. You can also customize your dessert by incorporating fresh fruits for an extra nutritional boost. So go ahead and satisfy your sweet tooth guilt-free!

Conclusion:

When it comes to summertime desserts, Jell-O Peach Gelatin Mix reigns supreme. Its delightful peach flavor, versatility, and ease of preparation make it a perfect choice for any occasion. From backyard barbecues to poolside parties, this treat is sure to impress both young and old alike. So grab a box of Jell-O Peach Gelatin Mix, embrace the summer vibes, and prepare to savor the deliciousness that awaits. It's time to elevate your dessert game and create memories that will last a lifetime!

[antoinenohra]

Facts About Teeth

Facts About Teeth!! Most of us take our teeth for granted, we don't realise what damage we do to our teeth and how precious they really are, it's not until something goes wrong we realise how much we rely on our them. Dr Antoine Nohra says Having bad teeth can have an effect on our overall health; they have a very important role in chewing and helping digest food that we are able to swallow. Our teeth help us to speak, you may not realise how vital they are when we talk but its not until they are gone then you can hear the difference. Humans have two set of teeth that grow through, we have our baby teeth (primary) then once they have fallen out our adult (permanent) teeth come through. Even though these sets of teeth come through at different times of growing up the development of the two sets are very similar. Some facts you may not know about teeth that Our Albany Dentist WA will explain: Teeth usually erupt in parallel, meaning that the teeth growing through on the left side will be the same on the right hand side. There may be a slight delay but once you get one tooth one side the other side will be through shortly. Tooth development starts long before the tooth is actually visible! Your first set of teeth comes throu gh at the age of 6 months; these teeth have actually been developing since the second trimester of pregnancy. The crown of the tooth develops first (the area of the tooth you can see) while the root of the tooth will continue to grown into the gum. At the age of three all 20 baby teeth should be fully erupted and until the age of 6 they will start to wobbly and full out making room for you adult teeth to come through. Adult teeth start to erupt at the age of 6 until age of 12. A full set of teeth in an adult will consist of 32 adult teeth which includes 4 wisdom teeth. These permanent teeth take a lot longer to fully erupt than the baby teeth. The 5 different types of teeth and what there roles are as explained by Dentist Albany WA : Teeth are vital in the process of chewing and digesting food, they make it a lot easier to consume food than people without teeth. Each type of tooth plays a different role and is slightly different in shape. The permanent molars as an adult don't replace any teeth they just erupt through behind the baby teeth. Third Molars- these are known as your wisdom teeth. Some people will never have their wisdom teeth grow through but usually they will develop between the ages of 18–20, they may develop later in life as well. Albany Dentist says Wisdom teeth can develop very easily not causing much pain, just an ache where they are pushing through the gum but with other can cause serious problem, either not developing straight but at an angle or causing crowding in the mouth putting pressure on all the other teeth meaning they will have to be taken out. At Amity Dental Centre we make sure all our patients know the importance of good oral hygiene. To make sure you clean and floss your teeth on a regular basis, twice a day, to be aware of how smoking effects the teeth, eating a healthy diet can save the teeth from erosion and to make sure you come to have your regular dental cleans and check ups. This is to prevent anything building up or erosion happening and not being seen, which can develop in to something more painful instead of having just a little filling to know more check our Dentist Albany to have an appointment or visit our website: https://www.albanydentist.com.au .