#“the lines i draw to look at myself are turning into somebody else”

[toytanks]

oh my god takes me nowhere is post betrayal ford

[x-aefx]

Back to you - Ellie Williams

Pairing: Ellie Williams x female reader

Modern au!

Summary: college!ellie au. Having once been close friends, Ellie and you begin to talk again while new feelings bloom and old ones return.

Part one

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Fuck!” You whisper yelled as you stared at your clock on your messy desk, internally wishing the hour would go back two hours so you wouldn’t be late for your first class since spring break.

Throwing an envious glance at your roommate, Lily, who didn’t have class until the afternoon, you climbed out of bed still half asleep. Walking to your dresser you pulled out the first thing your cold hands touched, your ‘Queen’ band t-shirt and black cuffed jeans. Brushing your hair quickly and spraying perfume you had no memory of buying, you awkwardly put on your shoes whilst trying to maintain balance in your standing position. Turning to your desk you grabbed the textbooks stacked on top of each other and your bag that was on the ground. You stole a quick glance in the mirror and said a mental ‘thank goodness’ for your somewhat decent appearance.

Grabbing the tin of mints on the edge of the desk you made your way out of the dorm and across the campus to your class.

Any other day and you would’ve taken your time seeing as you were already going to be late, but you wanted to get a good seat in class. Sure there was technically nothing stopping you from taking somebody else’s seat tomorrow when you would hopefully arrive on time, but you didn’t want to be that person.

Trying to hide your disappointment and annoyance as you walked into the class seeing you were probably the last to arrive, you looked to where your usual seat at the back beside the classroom wall was, now occupied by a girl who had the brightest blue eyes and straightest hair you had ever seen sat laughing loudly to her friend who looked nearly the same.

‘my fault for being late’ you thought bitterly to yourself.

Your eyes scanned the classroom for an empty seat. Finding one in the middle row you made your way towards it. Dropping your books on the desk and your bag on the floor you sat down. Not a moment later you felt someone kicking the back of your chair.

“what the fuc-“

“language’”

“seriously Dina?”

“someone's in a mood”

“Shut it Jesse”

“Hey!”

“You’re going to the party this Friday aren’t you? The one for Stacey’s birthday?” Dina asked smiling enthusiastically, seemingly not paying attention to Jesse’s angry mumbling about how rude people were.

“I can’t promise anything Dina” you sighed. “I could really use some time for myself”

“You had plenty time for yourself over spring break!” Dina pointed out.

“Yeah and I miss it already”

Jesse snorted at the comment earning a hit to the arm from Dina.

“Ow! Christ woman I’m fragile!”

“Oh I know” Dina rolled her dark eyes, “what about you Ellie? Your going right?”

You turned to the side slightly surprised having not noticed Ellie sat beside you. Hair tied in a half up- half down style, the sleeve of her blue flannel rolled up her forearms revealing her tattoo, legs stretched out to their full length under the table, Ellie Williams screamed confidence. Her attention focused entirely on what she was drawing in her sketchbook, Ellie didn’t notice her friend mention her name.

You doubted she even noticed you sat beside her if it weren’t for Jesse nudging her arm with his leg causing her pen to trail a messy line on the page

“hey what the fuck!”

“language! Honestly you two have the most foul mouths” Dina’s eyes glanced in your direction before looking back at Ellie. That’s when Ellie’s green eyes met yours. It was a quick glance but it was enough for you to look into those familiar green eyes.

“what’s up” Ellie ignored Dina’s comment. She placed her pencil on her desk and turned her body to face Dina and Jesse who sat behind her.

“will you be at the party on Friday?” Dina wasted no time in asking her friend.

“Eh-well, I was just planning on staying in.” Ellie looked at Dina with a guilty smile.

“Ellie!” Dina pleaded pouting her lips to really persuade the girl.

“Dina-“

“it will be so much fun I promise! And Y/N is going and everything!”

“wait no-Dina I never actually-!”

“please Ellie! You’ll have a good night, I swear!” Dina made her best puppy dog eyes. Ellie found herself accepting the invitation before she could really comprehend what she was doing. She never fell for Dina’s pleading looks yet she said yes.

Dina made a triumphant noise, her smile wide as she thought about the upcoming party she and her closest friends will be attending. Jesse smiled at his girlfriend, shaking his head with a chuckle at her antics.

Turning back around in your chair you opened your textbook to the page written on the whiteboard by your professor who was only now arriving. You never had a hard time concentrating in class, yet today you did. You couldn’t make your eyes move from word to word instead staring blankly at the white page.

“Ethan hasn’t quit staring at you since you walked in. It’s quite annoying.” A voice muttered.

Your head snapped to the side making eye contact with Ellie. Her brows furrowed as if in deep thought.

If you looked over to the other side of the classroom you would of noticed the captain of the basketball team, Ethan Gilbert, making heart eyes at you. But you didn’t break the eye contact between you and Ellie.

You didn’t think she had noticed you. Sure you and Ellie were close once, at the very start of college. You considered her your best friend but you two became distant with each other over time for reasons you were unsure of. Ever since then you presumed Ellie Williams had erased you from her life, that was how it felt for you anyway. To hear her say something to you at all was a change after all this time.

“What can I say Williams? I’m a total catch.” You shrugged your shoulders sending her a wink.

Ellie only scoffed before turning back to her drawing, a beautiful farmhouse you recognized as her home from the picture you had seen in her dorm. You noticed her smiling but said nothing.

[picky-and-corrupted-picky]

INCORRECT QUOTES AGAIN!!!!

'cause I'm still sick-

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Picky: The ‘how the fucks’ and 'why are you so dumbs’ don’t matter. All that matters is that I have a new gun.

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Bobby: At this point, I'm holding myself together with glitter glue.

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Crafty: I scare people a lot because I walk very softly and they don't hear me enter rooms. So when they turn around, I'm just kind of there and their fear fuels me.

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Bubba: I dunno if I'm ready to process the ramifications of this bullshit.

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Crafty: Unfortunately, due to several experiences in my youth, I cannot just 'walk up and join a circle of people talking', but it does sound lovely, thank you.

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Hoppy: Underestimate me. That'll be fun.

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Bubba: Ok, first of all, what the fuck?

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Kickin, seeing a banana on the car seat: What the FUCK?? Kickin, buckling the banana up: Fucking buckle UP, it’s the LAW!

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Kickin: I have no respect for Santa. Don’t sneak in through the chimney and undermine my authority by bringing my family presents. Walk in through the front door and fight me like a man.

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Hoppy: Kids don't even call you a doodoo head anymore. They just call you a bitch.

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Kickin: So apparently the "bad vibes" I've been feeling are actually "Severe psychological distress."

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Picky: Now, the recipe calls for 2 shots of vodka. Picky: *upends the bottle*

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Bubba: If I can't cause tiny bits of chaos every day, I think my body will shut down.

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Hoppy: If karma doesn't hit you, I fucking will.

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Kickin: Guess who got shit done today? Kickin: Not me, but congrats to somebody out there.

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Bubba: Time for plan G. Bobby: Don’t you mean plan B? Bubba: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties. Crafty: What about plan D? Bubba: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago. Hoppy: What about plan E? Bubba: I’m hoping not to use it. Kickin dies in plan E. Picky: I like plan E.

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Bubba: I CAN'T DO IT! Bobby, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER! Bubba: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE Picky: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US. Bubba: Bubba: I appreciate it, Bubba: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH- Hoppy: Bubba- Bubba: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE! Crafty: Bubba we gotta- Bubba: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT. Bubba: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?' Bubba, motioning to Kickin: NOT FUCKING THIS

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Bubba: If you bite it and you die, it’s poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it’s venomous. Hoppy: What if it bites me and it dies!? Crafty: Then you’re poisonous. Jesus Christ, Hoppy, learn to listen. Kickin: What if it bites itself and I die? Picky: That’s voodoo. Hoppy: What if it bites me and someone else dies? Bobby: That’s correlation, not causation. Crafty: What if we bite each other, and neither of us die? Kickin: That’s kinky. Bubba: Oh my God.

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Twisted!Bubba and Violent!Kickin by @smiling-psychopaths

Lovesick!Bobby by @protective-mama-bear

Corrupted!Picky by me :D

Emotionless!Crafty by @emotionless-craftycorn

Impulsive!Hoppy by @jumptothemoon

[stuff-plus-textposts]

Nothing At All is a Good Song

Nothing At All is a song from How To Dance In Ohio the musical that I really really like. I have this whole animatic to it mapped out in my head, but I haven't got the skill or patience to actually draw it. But the song's singer Desmond Edwards said that they would want to read the outline I've written, so here it is! It's very long and I'm sorry.

I work in a lab at a hospital, and this is about my job.

I walk into the lab, into the break room, and put my purse down. On “It’s not like I’m shocked by the ableist cliches, but they do make me tired,” I reach into my purse and put on a barrette (which I actually wear everyday). The barrette then turns red and becomes a wisp of smoke following me. 

“Do I only exist on this planet to make somebody else feel inspired?” I’m grabbing a lab coat from the closet when the wisp flies away from me, I turn to follow it and see one of my coworkers waving at me. Said coworker is drawn with no eyes or nose, just a mouth and eyebrows - everyone in the animatic is drawn like this except for myself. I wave awkwardly back. 

“I’m no object of pity, and if that’s what you see, then clearly you aren’t seeing me” the camera circles around me, showing a hallway that looks like I’ve made it longer for dramatic effect but that actually is that long, and then pans around so you can see my face as I start walking down the hall towards the core lab. 

I pretend to be my own OCs a lot, so the characters I turn into are my own characters. As I turn into each one, the wisp of red smoke becomes an article of clothing on them. First is Jaimy, who has a big red bow. Then Tris, who has a red ring, and finally Jada, who has a red headband. As the line gets to “today’s look is nothing, nothing at all” I fade back into my normal self with the wisp of smoke at my shoulders, and walk over to my work station. I type at my computer with the wisp curling over my wrists, I grab a pneumatic tube that’s just come in with the smoke curling around the tube and my hands. 

“I try to have patience meeting folks where they’re at” I sit at my chair talking to my boss, who is on one knee in front of me because she's really tall. “But this gets under my skin” she stands up to walk away. “Cause if you’re writing about me, then getting to know me should be where you begin” my boss goes over to one of my coworkers, a guy who acts like and is treated like he’s a supervisor even though he’s not, and says something. The two of them look directly at me, then back at each other. 

“It’s so condescending assuming the worst” We see my hand reaching towards a piece of paper on a printer, which is me attempting to do an assignment that I’m capable of doing but don’t have permission to do. The wisp of smoke curls around my hand and pulls it back, forcing me to turn away and see my boss. I glare daggers at her but that’s all I can do. 

“When I’m Wanda Maximoff” My glare fades and I turn into my OC Taylor, the red wisp becoming a wand in my hand. “I can change my own reality” using the wand, I open up a centrifuge and remove the tubes of blood to float in front of me. Unlike most of the animatic, which is black and white, the tubes are in color. They’ve been spun already so you can clearly see the red blood cells at the bottom, the separator gel, and the plasma/serum on top. Some of the tubes have light green tops and some have gold tops (if you’re curious what I’m talking about, look up centrifuged blood gold top). “When I’m Gaga I’m ready to rehearse” I change into my OC Jodie, stepping forward into a pirouette, the red wisp turns into a rehearsal skirt, and the tubes of blood are still floating in front of me. “When I’m Miles Morales I really do believe I am a superhero in the multiverse” I change into my OC Cytherea and start to float, the wisp becomes glowing red eyes, and for a moment the tubes of blood turn into crystals in front of me. “But todays look is nothing, nothing at all” I morph back into myself and come back down to the ground. The tubes of blood become tubes of blood again and return to my hands. The red wisp goes back to being a red wisp at my shoulders. 

“Then come the voices of doubt saying right on cue” we see the core lab, where my coworkers are doing regular core lab stuff, like typing at computers and putting stuff into machines. “This world will never make space for people like you” my coworkers all look at me, now looking angry, and now shaded red. I take a step back. “I see my past rejections framed and hung on the wall” The tubes of blood fall out of my hands, not like I dropped them or anything but just like in a floaty way. I also start to float as the background becomes black behind me, and we see representations drawn in red of various crappy things that have happened to me. This includes F’s on papers, children laughing at me, and mean quotes people have said to me. They scroll by in the background. 

“And I wish I felt nothing, nothing at all” I start crying and I curl up into a ball. The background changes to say in giant red letters “Autism.” But then the red disappears from the actual word, turning it white; the red becomes becomes the wisp again, circling around my whole body. “Nothing at all” the black background fades, leaving me in a cloud of red. “So sick of good intentions, that only make me feel small” still surrounded by the cloud. I look up and see the lab in front of me, except I am literally small now, and it is huge. “Your good intentions all add up to” I fall to my knees with my hands over my ears. “Nothing at all” suddenly I am normal sized again, holding the tubes of blood like I was before. I shake my head a little bit and look startled, as if I was trying to shake myself back to reality after zoning out. 

In the instrumental break, I walk over to one of the stations in the core lab and put the tubes of blood in the rack. Then I’m seen getting my purse and leaving the lab. 

“That’s why tomorrow night I will not be at the formal dance” we see me driving home, coming inside, and walking upstairs to pull out my laptop. “though I’ve worked hard to get there all this year.” The red wisp settles around my shoulders, still weird and wispy but not floating anymore, just resting. I take a deep breath and open my laptop. “That’s right, tomorrow night I will be doing my first livestream” I open up a zoom meeting entitled ‘Ableism in the workplace’ and click join, “to discuss the controversy further here!” I wave at the people in the meeting, and you can see the clock behind me displaying the time 5:30. “Cause the whole conversation” we see a girl wearing noise cancelling headphones talking on the screen. “Needs a huge overhaul.” We see a boy talking on the screen. “And if we simply do nothing.” I wave again, and you can see that the clock reads 6:30 now. I close the laptop and look sad. The red wisp starts to float again “nothing will change at all.” The wisp becomes a single red tear which falls down my cheek. 

In the final instrumental, I wipe the tear away. My hand stays on my face as I move it up to rub at my head, like I’m pushing my hair away from my face. When I pull my hand away, the red is gone and it has turned back into the barrette that I put on at the beginning. I set the barrette down on top of my laptop, alongside my employee badge, and stand up to walk away. The end.

Don't worry though, this makes my job sound awful, but it's actually really cool and most of my coworkers don't suck. This is a picture taken for lab week a few weeks ago, I'm the white girl sitting in the front :)

@wakanda-never I hope you like it! I know it isn't exactly what the song is about, but it's what it makes me feel. Thank you for everything you did with HTDIO, it's one of my favorite musicals ever because it makes me feel so seen.

[lsdoiphin]

All the friends I've lost and the pain I've caused Have never been enough just to make me stop The lines I draw to look at myself Are turning into somebody else

[enkisstories]

Galaxy's Edge, after closing time, but before the shutting down for the night proceedings have concluded:

Ben "Kylo Ren" and Jerry "General Hux" had found a storage room with a computer. There was no security to speak of, all it took to connect to the internet was to open a browser and start typing.

Hux: "All the precautions the humans take to keep us out of their wireless networks and document every word we speak to each other in our heads, only to forget that androids have fingers! And can wear gloves."

Kylo: "We don't have fingerprints that we could leave at a crime scene."

Hux: "The gloves are a Hux thing. I feel better stealing the data as him than as myself."

Kylo: "Wait... Does that mean Hux is the spy?! YOU sold us out to the Resistance?"

Hux: "Yep. I'm the spy. But don't worry, I didn't turn anarchist. It was a deeply personal thing against you."

"I'm the spy" - It felt good to speak that line, a line an actor had gotten paid to say almost twenty years ago, but that was a part of Jerry/Hux' memories now in first person. He clearly remembered having said this before, on the Steadfast, when in truth he was uttering the words for the first time this very moment, in a damp, dimly lit basement a little outside of Detroit.

That was odd. Equally odd, yet so very encouraging, was Kylo Ren of all people reacting to the reveal with unhampered enthusiasm:

Kylo: "Fuck, yes! That's exactly what we need now! Work your magic!"

Hux: "Don't get your hopes up too high. Hux did his thing off-screen, meaning there's nothing in the movie script that would teach ME how to be an effective spy."

Kylo: "Well, then, look it up! We're in the INTERNET now!"

Hux (typing) "How... to... be... an... efficient... spy...?"

Liberty: "Huh? The emergency light is on? Somebody down here?"

Hux: "Lesson One: Make sure to lock the damn upstairs door behind you. Argh! Why didn't Hux think of that? That scatterbrained twit could have gotten us killed!"

Hux (silently under his breath): "Oh, well, could be worse. I could be playing Ren."

Liberty: "Light!"

Liberty: "YOU? And what's that on the screen? You're looking up..."

Yes, what exactly? There had been a long list of hits on the screen, but now it had gotten replaced by a different list, as the Huxdroid had quickly typed his own name into the search bar and was now marveling at photographs and fanart of himself.

Liberty: "Ey? Guys? This still save for work?"

Hux: "Aw, look, another drawing! Wait a sec, how dare they put THAT on the internet? Miss Lee, tell Disney that we need to file a Cease and Desist against Marvel!"

Kylo (talking over Hux): "Miss Lee! You won't believe what Hux just spoilered to me! He's the spy!"

Liberty: "Er... yes? I knew?"

Kylo: "But I didn't know! I only know what my character knows, but I want to learn everything else, too! Also about my grandfather. Long story short, we wanted to watch Star Wars, so we found ourselves a computer."

Liberty: "But now you are overwhelmed and don't know where to start? That's a common problem to have!"

Kudos, you saved our plastic asses, Hux wanted to send to Kylo, along with nonverbal expressions of gratefulness, but he couldn't. Mind to mind communication, subtle as it was, could get intercepted and analyzed by humans. You didn't want to leave incriminating evidence in the system of the place you were stuck at.

[uncanny-tranny]

i'll take you up on that advice offer if you're up for it! i'm doing sub-q injections if that's relevant

That's extremely relevant! I'll disclaim now that while I have done research into Sub-Q, I am by no means an expert, nor have I done them at all on myself. I will absolutely try to include as much info as I can, but anybody who does Sub-Q, feel free to pipe up with your own experiences, thoughts, and whatever else! The floor is y'all's for any additional info/any clarification or correction

WHAT YOU NEED:

1. Your testosterone vial

2. Alcohol wipes (×2)

3. Sterile Syringe barrel

4. Draw-up needle and injection needle (note that the draw-up needle typically will be a larger gauge than the needle for administering the medication. Larger-gauged needles will have a SMALLER number on their package)

5. Bandaid

6. Sharps container

PREPARING THE MEDICATION:

After washing your hands thoroughly, give your vial of testosterone a quick check. You're looking for any abnormalities that may be present, like a change in colour, or any problems with the vial. Afterward, wipe down the vial's top with an alcohol wipe.

Once that's done, you will attatch the draw-up needle to the syringe. With the cap still on the draw-up needle, draw air into the syringe which is equal to your dose. If your dose is, say, 0.25Ml, you will fill the syringe with air between 0.2 and 0.3

Your syringe barrel may look something like this:

Notice the black rubber stopper? That would be around about 0.20Ml of air. It is very important to line the beginning of the plunger with your prescription. That beginning part of the stopper is the amount that you will be injecting.

Once you have filled the syringe with air, you can now push it into the medication. Turn the vial upside-down and make sure the needle is in the liquid. Then, push the plunger of the syringe down all the way. Once all the air is out of your syringe, draw up the testosterone equal to your prescription. Take your syringe out, recap your draw-up needle, and toss the capped needle into your sharps container. You will now take your capped injection needle and attach it to the syringe barrel. Flick the barrel of your syringe to take out air bubbles.

PREPARING YOUR INJECTION SITE:

Choose an injection site. This may be your thigh or the fatty part of your stomach. If you choose the stomach, inject about two inches (five centimeters) away from your belly button. Once you have chosen your site, wipe it thoroughly with your second alcohol wipe. Uncap the injection needle and push the plunger of the syringe until a bead of testosterone falls down the needle. This is to make sure the entire needle is filled with just your medication. Then, pinch together your skin with your fingers and inject at a 45° angle or a 90° angle, depending on how fatty your site is and what works best for you. Once you have fully injected into your skin, slowly push the plunger down until all the medication is injected, then quickly remove the needle. Recap the needle, untwist it, and toss it into your sharps container. Use your bandaid on the site, of course.

IMPORTANT NOTE: To ensure that you don't build scar tissue up (and also to make sure your body will absorb the medication), rotate your injections! This means changing the area which you inject. I have broken my left and right thighs into four "zones," and every week, I swap these zones. This ensures that I will only inject in that spot once per month.

Here is how I break down my "zones," in case you need it:

Here are some references I found helpful:

Medline Plus

Folx Health (video breakdown included)

sub-q vs IM for testosterone (youtube link from somebody who was on IM, then switched to SQ)

[cinnamoncandycanes]

I guess I have nothing to lose by tossing this out in the void, right?

I have just finished Good Omens S2 (amazing and also OW), and went looking for a fanfic I read sometime after S1. Unfortunately, while I found lots and lots of awesome new fanfiction on AO3, I seem to have neglected to bookmark the specific fic I was looking for and I can't find it amidst the sea of new content. So I'm gonna describe it and throw myself on the fandom's mercy in hopes that somebody recognizes it!

It was after the body swap and trials at the end of S1. Aziraphale-as-Crowley was released or else escaped, but Heaven hung on to Crowley-as-Aziraphale and tried to kill him in a different way, something involving a circle of power that was slowly draining him. (I think there was a line like "but there are other ways to kill an angel.) Aziraphale, still looking like Crowley, broke into Heaven to get him back and was PISSED. I think he threatened a junior angel and nearly something decidedly un-angelic to Gabriel in vengeance (throw him into the circle maybe?) once he found Crowley, except Crowley who was barely conscious whispered "angel" and stopped him, and then they escaped and Crowley turned back into a snake and was unconscious for a while, and Aziraphale looked at a ray of light in the sky and thought I'm sorry I lost my way (see: nearly-un-angelic-murder), and the implication was that God Herself then gave the two of them a little nudge of help, and they hid out in a cottage someplace and Aziraphale was avoiding using miracles so as not to draw notice, and that's about all I remember.

Apparently, this stuck in my head hard enough to resurface after S2. (Congratulations, fic author, whoever you are. You did good!) But I can't remember the title or author or tags. Anyone remember this and know where it's hiding??

[nehemiahimani]

🎤 LYRICS: 🎤

When the day begins, all the guilt sinks in

And I look on the wreckage of the night

No one I try to break free, the cycle breaks me

Am I ever gonna see the light?

All the friends I've lost and the pain I've caused

Have never been enough just to make me stop

The lines I draw to look at myself

Are turning into somebody else

I know how this will end

But I'm starting up again

Turned around, inside out

'Cause this way

Takes me nowhere

(I can't, can't see a way out)

Takes me nowhere...

(I can't, can't see a way out)

Takes me nowhere...

(I can't, can't see a way out)

Beats me up...

When I go there...

(I know I could start again)

When I go there...

(Oh no, here we go again)

Takes me nowhere...

(Oh no, here we go again)

Beats me up...

Open on this scene a familiar dream

Of you telling me what I already know

Though the truth seems near, you can't get there from here

But you sure know where you gotta go

As the rumor wind blows, my infamy grows

Seeing friends above and I hit another low

The picture I paint to look at myself

Is turning into somebody else

I know how this will end

But I'm starting up again

Turned around, inside out

'Cause this way

Takes me nowhere...

(I can't, can't see a way out)

Takes me nowhere...

(I can't, can't see a way out)

Takes me nowhere...

(I can't, can't see a way out)

Beats me up...

When I go there...

(I know I could start again)

When I go there...

(Oh no, here we go again)

Takes me nowhere...

(Oh no, here we go again)

Beats me up...

But today, if I change

And stop digging my own grave

I will try to set things right

'Cause this way...

Takes me nowhere...

(I can't, can't see a way out)

Takes me nowhere...

(I can't, can't see a way out)

Takes me nowhere...

(I can't, can't see a way out)

Beats me up...

When I go there...

(I know I could start again)

When I go there...

(Oh no, here we go again)

Takes me nowhere...

(Oh no, here we go again)

Beats me up...

[epistaxen]

The biggest hypocrite

Today turns out to be one of my darkest days. I was caught cheating.

I started this blog after getting hurt so bad. It helped me ease my pain and it gave me something to vent out on. But how do you do this if you're the one causing pain? I always take pride of the fact that I want to do good and be a role model to others. And for some time, people look up to me and thanked me for fixing their issues. What do you do if you end up being the person you hate the most?

I ended up destroying something precious due to my selfishness. I can't explain why I do it. Why can't I be satisfied and settled? Why do I want to seek more? Why am I so fucked up?

I'm inclined to think that I'm a narcissist in denial. There's nothing wrong with loving yourself but if other people start to get hurt, that's where one ought to draw the line. I hate myself for being so selfish. I did terrible things to my partner. I lied, I cheated, and forced other people to lie for me. And all she wanted was to love and be loved solely in return. Fundemantally, that's all anyone can ask for. What happened to me?

And the worst part is, I felt numb. I wanted to cry but tears didn't fall out. I'm devastated for what I did but I can't explain why I couldn’t cry. I'm not happy about this. Nobody should. But why can't I cry knowing full well that the other person is crying nonstop? What the fuck is wrong with me?

And then she said it. Those word suddenly sank my heart - "I love you but I am so hurt". Suddenly, tears started to fall. And it does still why I type this. What have I done?

I know she will forever be scarred. This is not the memory I wan't people to remember me by. But I have to man up and face what I did.

I feel that this can still be fixed as she was giving me hints. But I know that it will never be the same. She'll always be paranoid. And she has every right to do so. And I hate making her think twice. She has suffered enough. I didn't want things to end but I know she deserves to be treated better and to love without fear.

I am so sorry to everone who looked up to me. I'm so sorry for disappointing everyone. And most importantly, I'm so sorry sweetie pie for being such a terrible partner. You gave everything your best and treated me well. You were the perfect partner. You were somebody that people ought to settle down with. I am so sorry if I fucked things up. And moreso how you may never end up trusting other people again. I am so sorry I ruined you.

In a perfect world, I would get down on my knees, apologize, be a better person and fix us. But I know you'll forever be haunted by this. You deserve some peace of mind.

Ironically, today is independence day. In a few hours, you'll get to see random facebook posts about independence and freedom. I know for a fact that this is not something I'll be celebrating. And I won't be riding happily towards the sunset. I need some alone time. It's good that I'm working from home now. It would give me more time to think and reflect.

I've been to many breakups in the past. Pain is an old friend. But I never thought it would be worse to be on the hurtful side. Because you have no one else to blame but yourself. You have no one else to hate but yourself.

If people judge me, so be it. I deserve it. For being a terrible person.

I cheated on my girlfriend. I am so sorry.

I need help.

[erule]

Drunken confessions | b.h.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Summary: Billy is drunk and he thinks that he doesn’t deserve you, but you reassure him that he does. He has changed, for you.

Warnings: established relationship, drunk Billy, mention of smoking, maybe OOC Billy, angst, fluff, two suggestive jokes, mention of beating somebody, mention of toxic relationship, mention of jealousy

Word count: 1.2K

A/N: hi! Billy’s probably a little OOC here, but I just wanted to write something about him. Feedback is always appreciated by a writer! Hope y’all like it. Enjoy! X

Tags: @creme-delacreme​ (thanks again for your suggestion!)

“It’s not like I’ve never seen you like this before,” you say on the phone, while you’re looking for your clothes.

“You said the same thing, last night,” Billy replies and you’re imagining his stupid smirk on his lips, right now.

“Tell me what happened this time, Billy or I swear that I’m gonna go to bed again,” you affirm, while changing into some fresh clothes. You hear him sigh on the other line of the phone.

Billy called you in the middle of the night, something you’re used to, but this time it feels different. He always calls when he needs some stitches after a fight or when he drank a lot because his father scolded him, but now his voice is tense. He almost didn’t even reach out for you, because he didn’t want you to see him like that.

“Just come here,” he says. Then he adds: “Please”.

You arrive at the pub a few minutes later. The bartender doesn’t even has to show you the way, because you see him instantly. He’s sitting at the counter, a finger drawing some circles on the edge of the empty glass. He seems sad, not amused as he always looks.

“Billy?” You call him, sitting next to him.

He turns immediately and you see some sparkles being born into his eyes. He hugs you, holding onto you for dear life. His perfume is intoxicating: you can smell it even underneath the beer and the smoking. For a moment, you think he’s crying on your shoulder, instead, he has only left a small kiss on your neck and when the awareness hits you, shivers slid down your spine. He's not somebody who likes to show you his affection to you with this cute gestures, so you’re surprised that he did that this time. You’re still thinking about it, when you notice that he’s now again distant from you, with his body but also his mind. He’s probably still wondering whether to tell you what happened or not, but you’re not going to leave this place if he doesn’t, so it’s not like he has a choice.

“Baby? Hey, look at me,” you say, while turning his chin to you with a finger.

“Baby…” He repeats, with a pair of glossy eyes. “I forgot how sweet your voice sounds when you call me like that”.

“Billy, you’re scaring me,” you say. Why does it feel like he’s dying?

“I’m sorry, I just… I just… I don’t know, Y/N. Maybe I was wrong about a lot of things. Maybe I was wrong about you too”.

You gulp.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been trying to convince myself for months that I deserve your kindness, but I don’t. I’m not worthy of you. You shouldn’t accept my anger or to take me home in the middle of the night anymore. It’s better for you to date somebody else, somebody who treats you right. Even Harrington could…”

“Alright, stop it, stop it,” you interrupt him. “Is your father still messing with your head? You said that sleeping at my house is helping you, because you barely see him now. So what is it? I’ve never been into Steve. Did he make you think that I am?”

He shakes his head, but he doesn’t talk. It’s like he’s fighting with himself about something, but you can’t catch his glances. Then, his gaze is wandering up and down your collarbone and you finally understand.

“It’s the necklace, isn’t it?” You ask and he clenches his jaw. “It’s because you gave me your necklace. Are you scared of your own feelings, Billy?” You murmur the last sentence and he grips the glass.

“You don’t have to take me home, I can walk. Come back to your house, you’re wasting your time with me anyway,” he says, but you hold his wrist.

“Who talked with you today? Because yesterday, when you gifted that necklace to me, you seemed quite serious about us. Billy, we’ve been together for a year! It’s not like I don’t know who you are,” you reply.

“I’ve told you so many terrible things, I’ve driven fast with you by my side because I was jealous, I… You should really find someone else, Y/N, someone better than me…” He says, while shaking his head with his eyes closed.

“What did you do, Billy?”

“Nothing, I swear!” He exclaims, then he squeezes your hand. “Please, you have to believe me”.

“I do, baby, I do,” you say, while caressing his cheeks and he relaxes in the palms of your hands. “And you don’t do those things anymore, now. You’re sleeping better, you’re barely drinking and you don’t beat people anymore. Whoever hurt you is gonna talk to me about it,” you say.

He sighs, then he clenches his jaw again. He leaves a kiss on the back of your hand with softness and your heart melts.

“Don’t do it. Don’t come for them,” he says, serious. He even seems himself again.

“It’s Max, isn’t it?” You guess and he instantly looks at you in disbelief. “She’s the only one you would protect, apart from me. What did she do?”

“I was mean to her for no reason as always and she told me that I don’t deserve somebody so amazing like you, but she’s right, Y/N,” he affirms again.

“Billy, I just wanna be with you. That’s all. Max was upset and she said something she didn’t want to say. I bet that she’s gonna apologize tomorrow. Anyway, the decision is mine and I don’t want to leave you. Alright? Not now, not ever,” you tell him, then you give him a smile and he sighs.

“It’s not fair that I need you so much, while you don’t. Don’t give up on me, okay? Even if I behave like a bad guy, I would never hurt you. Just fight with me, okay? Tell me when I’m wrong, I won’t yell at you again like I did a year ago. I’ll listen to you. I won’t drive fast again,” he says, then he hugs you again, so tight you almost can’t even breathe.

“Billy, I need you too, but now you have to let me go in order to breathe again,” you joke and he does what asked.

“Sorry, sweetheart”.

“And you haven’t been the bad guy for months, now. You’re different, Billy. It’s gonna be alright”.

He doesn’t say the he loves you. It’s not something he does. But the way he looks at you, oh, if eyes could talk, he would have told you that by now. How much fondness can be into someone’s heart? So you take his hand and go to your car, in order to come back home together.

When the two of you sit in the car, you catch him looking at your neck again.

“You know, that necklace… looks pretty good on you”.

“If you’re gonna say something related to me being sexy with it, I swear…”

“No, no,” he chuckles and his smile makes you feel your ears on fire. He’s still the most handsome guy of Hawkins, for you. “I just wanted to say something really cheeky, but maybe it’s better not to. I have to protect my reputation, after all,” he says, while winking at you.

You approach him in silence, with a sly look. He stares at you, confused. Then you capture his lips in a passionate kiss and he seems to die there, on that seat.

You’re still trying to catch your breath, when you finally talk again: “Tell me”.

"Are you trying to manipulate me?"

"Perhaps".

"Someday, I hope that necklace is a ring."

You smile at him.

"I’d like that".

[citrinesparkles]

doctor todd.

jason todd x gender neutral vigilante!reader. 1,875 words. notes: requested by @jason-redhood as part of my hundred followers celebration! this got a lot longer than i intended, oopsies. thanks for requesting- hope you enjoy! warnings: tending wounds, mentions of food.

"y'know, lurking outside somebody's window is a good way to get yourself shot," jason called over his shoulder.

"i'll keep that in mind," you said, voice strained enough to shoot dread into his veins and draw his attention completely away from his work.

he set the gun he had been cleaning on the table and twisted around to find you gingerly sliding through the open window.

"hey," you mumbled, giving him a weak wave after your boots hit the floor. "sorry for not calling, i just..."

you were backlit, the glow of the city making it impossible to see your features from the dining area- but your posture alone was enough to have him shoving his chair back and crossing his apartment.

"how bad?" he asked, stopping a few steps back, now able to make out the tears in your suit and the bruises around your mask.

"pretty sure i sprained my wrist, and there's a poorly-bandaged gash on my leg, but otherwise i'm peachy."

"how bad's the leg?"

"i'm... not sure. bad enough that i think i need your help." you patted the windowsill with a gloved hand. "obviously."

he nodded and slid to your good side, gently resting a hand on your shoulder. "okay. c'mon, my stuff's in the bathroom."

-

"here." he handed you a pair of shorts and a large tank top. "change into this so i can get to the wounds, okay? i'll be right out here if you need anything."

-

"you're good!" you called.

he nudged the bathroom door back open and scooped your uniform up from the floor, carefully putting it in a canvas bag and tying the handles together before setting it in the tub to deal with later. "alright," he sighed, turning back to face you.

his clothes looked way too right on you, he realized, a wave of emotion he would vehemently deny surging through his chest and pushing heat to his neck and cheeks.

"alright?"

"okay. alright. uh-" he jerked a thumb at the counter- "up here, i guess, so i can see your leg."

you propped one foot on the toilet lid and braced your good hand against his shoulder, his hands instinctively coming up to hover around your waist as you pushed yourself up and settled next to the sink.

the grateful smile you gave him was enough to tug his lips into a smile of his own.

"you're up, doctor todd," you teased.

he stepped forward with a halfhearted eyeroll, fingers brushing the cloth tied hastily around your leg. "can i take this off?"

"go ahead."

he tugged gently at the knot, wincing when you inhaled sharply. "sorry."

the scrap fell away, revealing dried blood and an open wound on the outside of your thigh.

"yeesh, that is nasty," he said.

you scoffed lightly. "gee, thanks."

"hey, if you wanted a nice doctor, you probably should have gone somewhere else." he shifted to the side, grabbing a clean cloth and bottle of alcohol. "fair warning, you're really not gonna like me here in a minute."

your quick "i seriously doubt that." was greeted with a grin that felt a little too fond for his liking.

he told himself it was for your benefit.

...yeah, that sounded good.

he could live with that.

-

he made quick work of cleaning the gash, doing his best to distract you by making stupid small talk about the horrible movie he'd sat through that morning because the tv remote had been out of reach and the mediocre new coffee shop with dry blueberry muffins.

"was the coffee okay, at least?"

"okay, yeah, but not 'five-dollars-fifty' okay. if i hadn't been falling asleep in line i probably would have left when i saw the price."

"there's a nice one up by my place, they make the best blueberry muffins ever."

he hummed. "i'll keep that in mind, next time i'm over that way." he leaned back, studying your cut. "i think stitches would probably be smart."

you groaned. "of course they would."

"i'm okay to do them- i do them on myself- but if you want i can give you a lift to a hospital or something."

"no. if you can, i want you to do them. i trust you."

he sat with that for a minute, searching your face for any hesitation. when he found none, he nodded. "okay."

-

as you both expected, it sucked.

to make things worse, he was rapidly running out of mindless things to talk about.

how many times could two people really argue about pizza toppings before it got old?

-

"alright, done."

"holy shit, finally." you slumped back, leaning on your good hand for a moment before your head snapped back up. "no, not like- i meant thank you, you did great, i'm not being an ingrate-"

"i know, relax." he nudged your knee with a goofy smile. "here, gimme your wrist."

you pouted (which, yes, that was also adorable, much to his dismay), carefully stretching your bad arm out.

he took your hand gently, scooping it up in one of his and bracing your forearm up with his other. "it's actually not too bad, considering you hit hard enough to tear your glove. i'm gonna clean the scrapes here up, though, okay?"

"do i really get a choice?"

"it's your body, so, yeah."

you sighed dramatically. "fine, if you insist. go ahead, clean my wounds for me."

-

he was quiet this time, focusing intently on removing bits of dirt and stuff from your raw palm with a set of tweezers.

trying to ignore the way your eyes seemed to linger on him now that he was looking down.

he set the tweezers aside, glancing up at you to find you smiling at him thoughtfully, and dropped his gaze just as quickly as he had lifted it. "what, you enjoying making me do all the work?"

"you could say that, yeah."

he scoffed. "well, you're going to enjoy it a lot less in a second. time for the alcohol again."

"ugh."

-

he managed to dig up an old wrist brace in the back of his sock drawer. a little big for you, but it would work for now, he figured.

"may i?"

you nodded and held your arm back out for him to loop the brace over your thumb and tuck the velcro strap under and around, pulling it snug against your skin before sticking it to itself.

-

"last one, tough stuff." he pointed at your cheek, where a small patch of dried blood stained your skin. "ready?'

you nodded tiredly. "let's just get this over with. this counter isn't as comfortable as it looks."

he chuckled, dampening the softest cloth he had and wringing it out. "sorry, i didn't think i needed to get an apartment with counter cushions." he raised his left hand up, hovering an inch or so below your chin. "uh, can i..?"

your eyes widened, glancing at his hand. "oh, uh, sure. yeah."

he moved slowly, raising it to cup your chin softly with his middle and forefinger on one side and thumb on the other. "this okay?"

"mhm." your eyes slid shut and he could almost believe that you sank into his touch.

if it wasn't absolutely insane, anyway. his touch wasn't exactly the kind people sank into- much less people like you. people that good, that caring, that stunning? yeah, no.

he tilted your head to the side slightly, rubbing gentle circles across your cheekbone with the cloth and watching as the blood faded.

"so, who did this?" he asked softly, casually.

apparently not casually enough, though, because you snorted at him. "why, you think you need to go avenge me? defend my honor or something?"

"no! i'm just curious. just... making conversation."

your eyes opened, amusement dancing in them and threatening to hypnotize him. "good. i shouldn't have to tell you who won that fight, jay."

"well, i mean, you are missing a chunk of your thigh."

"aw, is the big bad vigilante worried about lil old me?"

he squeezed your face gently, pushing your cheeks up and forward into a goofy fish face. "it's rude to tease the guy tending to your wounds, babe."

he definitely didn't imagine your breath hitching. "babe, huh?" you asked playfully.

"shut up," he grumbled. "don't make me regret helping."

-

"alright, looks like that's the last scrape. you're all cleaned up."

"thanks, jason." you smiled up at him, soft and warm and genuine. "i really appreciate this."

"yeah, yeah." he squeezed your jaw again. "try not to make it a habit."

"mhm." a moment passed quietly before you spoke quietly. "so, you gonna do something here, or can i have my face back?"

he froze.

your mouth- which he was really trying not to look at- shifted into a confident smirk, a challenge written clearly in the angle of your lips.

your eyes, bright under the harsh lighting, told a different story. one of vulnerability, and want, and something close to fear.

"do you want me to?" his voice was hoarser than he'd intended, and he swore you could hear his heartbeat echoing in it.

your gaze dipped to his lips. "would it make everything super weird?"

"you just came crawling through my window in the middle of the night in a mask and kevlar. i think things are already weird."

he felt your hum under his fingers. "then why not?"

"do you really want me to answer that?"

"jason, will you please just kiss me already?"

"well, you did say please." he leaned in slowly, giving you every opportunity to slip away or yell 'sike!'

all you did was bring your good hand up to his collar and pull him towards you.

your lips were soft and gentle, and the way they pulled upwards slightly when his hand slid from your jaw to cup your cheek was something he'd be thinking about for weeks.

when he eventually pulled back, it took him a moment to open his eyes. he was half convinced that if he did, it would be to his bedroom ceiling, the past half an hour all a dream.

instead, he found your fond gaze.

"finally."

he let out a huff of laughter, thumb running over your cheek. "you should stay here tonight."

"w-"

"not like that," he clarified quickly. "you have stitches, you shouldn't go leaping across rooftops tonight. i can take the couch."

"hm." you smoothed out his shirt collar, the barely-there brush of your fingers against his shoulder almost tugging a whine out of him. "or i can take the couch, and then you can take me home in the morning and let me treat you to an actual blueberry muffin."

"are you asking me out?" it was a teasing comment, paired with a tiny smirk meant to fluster you.

but it was also a reality check.

you seemed to catch the second meaning. "yeah, i am. would you, please, let me take you out on a date?"

"i'll have to check my calenda-"

"you're so full of it."

"yeah, probably."

"is that a yes?"

he laughed, bringing his other hand up to squeeze your knee. "yeah, i can let you take me on a date. i could use a good muffin."

[whythinktoomuch]

recovered in time

(pt. i)

“From what I can tell, the implant seems to be interrupting the connection between your visual cortex and your emotional center,” Brainy says, eyes narrowed in concentration, two fingers pressed against the incision point at the base of Kara’s neck. “As well as inhibiting your frontal lobe and sending distress signals to the amygdala.” 

“What does that mean?” Kara asks. 

“It means that... you weren’t feeling like yourself,” Alex says, and Kara nods hesitantly at that. 

“So, can you rid of it or not?” Alex asks, fixing Brainy with her most hardened stare. 

“I’ve already determined five different ways to extract the device—”

“Great! So, we can—”

“—but none that wouldn’t immediately prove fatal or result in permanent brain damage.” 

Eventually, Alex releases a long-suffering, shuddery sigh. “... You could have fucking led with that.” 

“I did feel like myself though...” Kara interjects, suspending what was surely about to result in another very unproductive argument. “And I still feel like myself now. It’s just...” She ducks her head, fiddling with the sleeves of her shirt, already frayed from anxious attention. “... I felt so alone? Like, I’d been abandoned, or was suddenly in a world where I’d lost everyone all at once. Again.” 

Kara shifts uncomfortably in her seat, now able to feel everyone’s eyes on her, burning holes into her skin. She has long since traded in her super-suit for comfy clothes, and her scarf has been upgraded to a pair of heat vision resistant blackout goggles, but it would take more than 24 measly hours for her to adjust to, well... everything. 

“You’re not alone though,” Alex says, giving Kara’s knee a firm squeeze as if in reminder. “You know that, right?” 

Kara rubs at her nose, sniffling herself back into some semblance of composure. “Yeah, I know.” 

But of course, knowing something hardly ever outstrips the feeling of it, and Kara kinda just wishes that she still had Lena’s scarf on her. 

//

“Hey Lena,” Kara calls out softly from the bed. She doesn’t lift her head from her pillow, but still offers a small wave in greeting. 

“What gave me away?” Lena asks, and it’s almost playful, which makes everything that much easier. 

“Well... Pretty much everything, actually.” 

“Ah.”

Then the smell hits her, overwhelming her senses in an unexpected rush of heat and spice. Kara sits up right away, startled. “How did you...” is all she manages to get out, then pushed into her hands is a considerably sized takeout box of potstickers. 

“I wanted to surprise you, so I might have created a hermetically sealed lunchbox just to sneak these in,” Lena says, and Kara’s already laughing softly. “The food’s still good though! I literally just slipped them inside right before walking into the building, so...” 

“... Thank you,” Kara says. She inclines her head to the spot next to her, and feels the bed sink with Lena’s weight accordingly. 

Kara starts eating, but does so with only one hand. The other just fidgets at her thigh, tugging at her sweatpants, lying in wait so impatiently. Then Lena takes the hand and holds it firmly in her own, and finally, it feels like Kara can breathe freely again. 

“I never thanked you,” Kara says, “for, you know... everything.” 

“You already did,” Lena reminds her, squeezing Kara’s hand. 

“I... did?” Kara feels Lena nodding beside her. “Okay... so then, why does it feel like I still have so much left to owe you?” 

Lena tries to hold her breath quietly, but Kara hears it; of course, she hears it. “I can’t answer that for you.” 

A couple of hours later, when Alex pops into the room for her usual check-in, she stumbles upon an unexpected sight: Lena sitting up on the hospital bed, her legs tucked beneath the sheets as she answers emails on her phone, and Kara fast asleep, curled up around her. 

Kara’s still holding Lena’s hand, her face buried in Lena’s shirt where it smells most like her, apparently, besides her hair. 

Lena blushes a little, but can’t find it in her to regret her position. 

//

“Alex says it’s because I didn’t see your face,” is the first thing Kara says the next time Lena visits. “I pretty much saw everyone else’s, but... never yours. So, I’ve imprinted on you, or something.” 

Lena recovers quickly, “Well... what do you think?” 

“I don’t know,” Kara admits, running her fingers down the back of her neck, feeling the tender skin still raised in jagged lines. “There’s still so much I feel like I can’t trust right now.” 

“But you trust me...” 

“Yeah.” 

Lena carefully cradles Kara’s hand in both of hers, and it feels like a thank you of sorts. Then Kara draws their joined hands closer and closer, pressing her lips gently to Lena’s knuckles, and sighs in a way that could only ever be an expression of deep gratitude. 

//

Kara’s days all seem to unfold the same way, with Alex and Brainy running tests, Lena stopping by once per day for company, and Kara just trying to break up the monotony of it all with podcasts, books on tape, and tossing a tiny bouncy ball around the room to test her reflexes. 

For that last one, she has to stop the moment she hears Alex approaching her room, of course, because of all the broken glass and knocked over plants, and such. 

Until one day, she overhears a couple of DEO agents discussing some urgent mission—not exactly a rare occurrence, given her super-hearing, but she perks up, ears honing in at the mention of Lex Luthor. 

But when they also mention how Lena might be in danger, Kara is already out of bed and flying out the window.

Kara hasn’t flown since donning her blackout goggles, but she remembers enough to travel at a height that would be safe from any threat of collision. And before long, she’s hurtling straight for the source of all the distant commotion now pounding in her ears. 

She practically crashes in landing, the earth cracking beneath her bare feet. She whips her head toward where Lena’s heartbeat is fluttering the loudest, then hears low chuckles coming from the same direction. 

“You’re all so pathetic and predictable,” Lex crows. “At least try to make it somewhat of a challenge for me. God, it’s all just too easy.” 

“Kara, get out of here!” Lena’s voice shouts out to her, muffled and desperate. “It’s a trap!” 

But Kara takes a step toward them anyway, and immediately, the entire world seems to scream in protest. 

Kara falls to her knees, hands clapping over her ears but to no avail. The excruciating sound is coming from her own head, akin to hot spikes scraping at the inside of her skull. She calls out to Lena, but can’t even make out her own voice over the pain. 

She crumples over, helpless, her teeth gritted as she pushes her face into the dirt and shakes uncontrollably. She knows she has to get up; she’s a sitting duck like this. She can’t save Lena like this. 

And so, Kara does the one thing that she can do. 

She rips the goggles off her face, hurling them somewhere behind her, and jerks her head up. 

She sees a blur of colors, then a single hand outstretched towards her, clutching onto something silver and vaguely rectangular. 

She fires a burst of heat vision right at that hand, and feels the back of her head explode. 

//

“Man... she couldn’t just put them down gently?” mutters a voice that’s not unfamiliar. “She just had to throw the goggles like a goddamn shot-putter or something? These things cost a fortune!”  

“All right, that’s enough, Demos,” says Alex, a much more familiar voice. “I’ll worry about the budget, okay? You just get everyone else back to headquarters.”  

“’M’sorry,” Kara says, or at least she tries to say. “My bad...” Her eyes still shut tight, she flashes a thumbs up, then lets her arm flop back down to the ground. Alex stops her when she attempts to sit up. 

“Hey, not so fast, you jerk,” Alex says, somehow keeping Kara grounded with a single hand pressed against her shoulder. “We’re getting a stretcher for you.” 

“I don’t think I need a stretcher.” 

“Yeah, well... nobody asked you,” Alex sighs, before grumbling, “God, what’s taking them so long? Ugh, hang on... Hey, can you watch her? I’ll be right back.” 

Lena’s there now, and Kara can actually feel herself grinning without even meaning to. “No, don’t... You shouldn’t have come, Kara.” But there’s a smile in Lena’s voice, and Kara’s grin grows wider for it. “I’m serious!” 

“Okay, me too.” Kara then winces as a sharp pain gradually surfaces, trickling into reality. “The back of my head is killing me...” 

“Yeah, you’re bleeding.” 

Kara scoffs. “I don’t bleed; I’m Supergirl.” 

“Okay, Supergirl... but somebody got blood all over my shirt, and it sure as hell isn’t me, so...” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Then check for yourself.” 

Kara goes rigid, her humor dashed and her brow furrowing heavily.

“... You know I can’t do that.” 

Soft fingertips brush down Kara’s face, tucking her hair behind her ear so tenderly. “Listen,” Lena says. “You destroyed Lex’s transmitter, along with most of his right hand, and I think you blew out the implant in your head in the process as well.” 

There are thoughts then—the kind that Kara is unwilling to say aloud lest they develop reasons to be true. Thoughts like, what if the explosion damaged parts of her brain permanently? What if it severed that neural link between her eyes and everything else for good? And, how can she risk losing the one person who she believes to be absolutely, 100% real? 

Lena draws Kara’s attention with a gentle hand squeeze. “Hey, where’d you go?” she asks softly.

“I’m still here,” Kara says. “Still just right here.” 

But Lena seems to understand Kara’s concerns, unvoiced or not, because she leans a bit closer and asks, “Do you trust me...?” 

And, yes; yes, she does.  

With a deep breath filling out her lungs, Kara slowly opens her eyes. Everything’s a blur at first, just like before. But then little by little, bit by bit, the night sky comes into focus. She stares up at the darkness, counts as many stars as she can to put off the inevitable. 

Then her hand is being tugged and squeezed in the gentlest reminder, so she turns her head, blinking her eyes in preparation before looking up to see Lena Luthor smiling down at her. 

“Hey,” Kara says. 

“Hey yourself,” Lena returns. 

Kara nods thoughtfully, then gestures to Lena’s shirt. “Sorry, but I can’t afford dry cleaning,” she says, squinting at the various splashes of red—light but unfortunately prominent against the very white material—and Lena just laughs and laughs. 

[ranboo5]

WHEN THE DAY BEGINS ALL THE GUILT SINKS IN AND I LOOK ON THE WRECKAGE OF THE NIGHT. THOUGH I TRY TO BREAK FREE THE CYCLE BREAKS ME AM I EVER GONNA SEE THE LIGHT. ALL THE FRIENDS I’VE LOST AND THE PAIN I’VE CAUSED HAVE NEVER BEEN ENOUGH JUST TO MAKE ME STOP. THE LINES I DRAW TO LOOK AT MYSELF ARE TURNING INTO SOMEBODY ELSE <- do you understand.

[haikkun]

Kill The Rabbit

It is wear a halter tank-top when playing pool and never wear a v-necked shirt when scooping ice cream at work and it is a Lion King sunset over a concrete viaduct and it is someone taking a steak knife to your heart to check for “doneness”

It is the smell of lager and skin-so-soft and denim burnt to the knees and it is suckling Trixie Beldon books between migraines and mothy sheets and it is “mail my ashes to him, I meant it about the same grave” even though you know he’ll rinse them down the drain and

It is the exhaustion of never being bored and it’s cigarette sounds after the macaroni and cheese and it is the thorn in your paw and you were the lion AND the god and it is always being asked out by the friend of the guy you are chasing and it is being kissed while you are sleeping and it is Hanna-Barberian drawings of men making you think you have no interest

It is trying to look more bored when people peel out at intersections, and it’s being afraid that someone will reach around the back of your neck and find the zipper that you didn’t even know existed

It is “are you a cat person or a dog person?” And it turns out… you aren’t a person.

And it’s been “good answer” and it’s been “the hour of your death” and it is hating every. single. person. who “did a thing”

It’s been “it’s been’s” and it’s been “trying to be’s” and it’s been thinking I might read my shade between the lines and dreaming I could be anything worth writing about and I was already in love with you before you coup de grâced me like that and it’s saying your name under my breath when I don’t want to and FUCKING SCREAMING at myself to fuck off, and…

It is laying out on the grass and it occurring to me that the sun might actually be basking in us and it is thinking you are hot or cold when everything is relative to space dust and it is something dumb that happens when I’m in love

It’s people with “baby on board” stickers who also claim that “all lives matter” and it’s finding out “the sign” was merely “the driver” the whole time

It’s never being as dedicated as the Florida man who died in an explosion after attempting to microwave a microwave and it’s raise your hand if you raised your hand and

It is being so hungry for signs of life you track your own footsteps around the block and it is a multisyllabic mind that cannot cram into a 140 character Twitter count or a picture poem on Instagram and it is being tagged by my tumblr handle on platforms others stole my name on and not being able to receive any of the glory and I don’t do it for the claps but the lack is also the most efficient way to to get down on myself lately

And it’s taking shots while the kids you babysat napped and it’s the sensation of feeling watched all the time even thought nobody’s ever been looking, and it’s a pre-guilty look on your face driving past cops like you’ve been caught even though you haven’t done anything lately (well, that’s a lie) and I always wanted to be turned into my favorite tree when I die but I’m so bad at staying in one place and I’ve been thinking maybe I should be rammed into a firework instead and then I contemplate the cost-savings benefit between them, after all, it’s MY funeral and then people who loved me too little in life can get tattoos of the explosion, and it’s been clear I’ve been depriving myself of being truly beautiful because I haven’t given birth, and it’s being responsible for all of the plagues of the world because we were two people’s more swol halves and even at 50% I am responsible for one and a half persons that never made it to this earth, and it’s playing chicken with the lightning and hoping every single wave pulls you under or that something somewhere will take pity on the world and dispatch you and it’s realizing it would be easier to just stop feeding yourself but that’s different and unacceptable but what really is the difference and it’s finding out that pain is what’s art to somebody else and it’s comparing myself and coming up short and it’s leaving out half of everything since we met because I can’t lose you yet and

“It’s a circle…” she coughs. “You run as far and hard from death as you can that you don’t realized you’ve wrapped yourself back around again…” and it is not feeling qualified to be here, ever, and here is everywhere

____________________________

Maureen Armstrong @haikkun

[consumeconstantly]

Innocence, avoidance

Summary: Jason Todd cracks crass jokes and dirty comments like they’re his lifeblood. It turns out, he’s just getting it out of his system before he sees his little sister again. (Or: Marinette gloms onto Red Hood after her parent’s death, and there’s no way anyone can stop her from being with her older brother.)

___________________________________________________

Jason Todd, AKA Red Hood, is not the kind of man people go to when they want to complain about their life problems. They go to him when they want a quick, oftentimes violent solution; Red Hood isn’t exactly a renowned empath. In comparison to his other Bat Family counterparts, he is at least 10 times more crass and almost 15 times more violent. 

It is accepted that although Red Hood makes situations turn out for the better, he is no shining paragon of human virtue and kindness. People trust him to watch their backs and not to fuck them over so long as they’re working within his very clearly defined set of values, but he’s just not the kind per person that anyone would entrust their kid to during their Friday date night.

Until somebody does.

The door to the warehouse is already open, and he has a gun in his hand, ready to threaten the little crowd he’s gathered today when a woman hops out of her car and shoves a pig-tailed girl with wide blue eyes and an almost blindingly neon pink outfit towards him.

“There you are, you weren’t at the drop site!” says the woman, who instantly begins to back away from the two of them once the little girl picks herself up off the ground that she landed on. Red Hood notes the license of the getaway car, making a mental reminder to deal with them later, but the car makes tracks. The little girl frowns at the disappearing car, eyes the gun in his hand, then decides that she’s going to stay put. 

Red Hood looks at the rabble that has convened in the warehouse, down at the little girl, then back again. There are at least five people in the room that are eyeing the little girl greedily, and he’s sure that if he just lets her go, she’ll be captured by one of them faster than he can bat an eye. He doesn’t exactly have time to put the girl in a safe place, not when it’s taken him months and a good number of heads in order to draw these people here. 

She looks wary of the gun and of him, but not scared. Everyone else? Half of them look like they’re about to burst out laughing, and the other half have looks that he’s eager to wipe off their faces.

“Aww, look at that! Hood has finally found his way into the dark side of the business. What’s next, prostitution?”

Without hesitation, he shoots with deadly accuracy at the man’s hand. The man keels, bending over and clenching his bloodied appendage. Other than the man’s screams, the room goes completely silent.

Red Hood casts another glance at the little girl, who has, slowly but surely managed to inch away from him and into a safer position. She’s holding onto her sparkly purple plastic backpack like it’s the only thing that’s keeping her alive. Smart kid, not to run. Or was it dumb? He wouldn’t shoot her, and he’d take out anyone else who tried to, but the girl didn’t know that. She probably just assumed that she was going to his next target.

“All of you shut up while I deal with this.” He inhales deeply and kneels down to get on eye level with the girl. Not that she can see much of his eyes, given his helmet, but still.

He has half a mind to go after the woman, but he’s not about to leave the little girl amongst the group of criminals that are gathered in the warehouse with him. Briefly, he wonders how the hell that couple even knew that he was going to be here tonight. He also wonders what he’s going to do with the kid. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

She looks up at him, hands clenched around a plastic pink backpack with some kid’s cartoon on the back, then looks out at the people that have gathered. There’s a moment of silence, and Red Hood is sure that she’s weighing her current options. Smart kid. Eventually, she shifts her body weight closer to him, apparently drawing the conclusion that he is the safer option than the other people who are here tonight. Smart kid.

“It’s Marinette, sir.”

No last name. Not sure if that’s a pointed decision to keep her identity at least partially concealed, or just because she doesn’t have one.

“And those weren’t your parents?” It stands to reason that the people in that care aren’t her parents, but he needs to make sure.

Marinette clenches her backpack tighter. “No, sir.”

“Where are they?” He has a sinking suspicion if those weren’t her parents, and she’s not up in tears, asking for a phone to call them, that--

“They’re dead, sir.”

Sometimes, Jason wishes he could be wrong on things like this. 

“Then who were they? And don’t call me sir. Too formal.” 

“My mom’s... second cousin, I think? I never met her before, but I got sent here anyway.” 

One of the men shifts. He’s one of the men who Red Hood pegged as a possible child trafficker. Underneath his helmet, Jason’s eyes narrow. He now has a fairly good idea of how the couple figured out that he was going to be here tonight.

“Do you know how to get back home?”

At that, Marinette's mouth almost twitches up into a smile. “No sir. I don’t think there’s a home to go back to, anymore.”

Red Hood sighs. Putting the information presented to him together, he quickly comes to the conclusion that Marinette’s parents have died recently and that nobody in her immediate family has found out about their passing, or they don’t want her. Somehow, the couple picked her up-- possibly when she was going to a friend’s house, judging by the whole school girl look she has going on-- and thought she would fulfill the trafficking requirements laid out to them. 

That means that there aren’t a lot of options available to her. He can redirect her to the foster care system, but everybody knows foster care messes up kids permanently. Even though she looks to be pretty street smart, he couldn’t just let her live out on the streets in good conscience. Her outfit looks too clean for her to ever have lived in poverty, and she definitely checks the box for a lot of the trafficking rings that have been popping up recently. Mixed descent, the possibility to be pretty when older, and very, very pure. She’d get picked up off the streets within hours if she just let her be. 

He decided that he’s let her have the final say. “What do you think I should do in this situation?”

She shuffled her pink ballet clad shoes, eyes darting to the sides. He had to give the girl this much at least; even though she had the whole innocent look going for her, she was very aware of her surroundings. Her body language implied that she didn’t believe him to be that much of a threat— and in any other case, he’d fault her for that, but given that let their surroundings were a drug den he’d let it go— and tilted herself so she could have as many people in her sights as possible. “Sir, I think as long as you could get me out of here safely, I’ll figure out how to take care of myself.”

The man Jason was watching, the possible trafficker, tensed. Yeah, Jason is definitely going to have to take care of him later. This kind of a reaction as good as cements the suspicions he’s had. 

“Tell you what, princess. Do you mind waiting outside for me? I’ll help you out once I’m done here.”

Marinette eyed the rest of the room. “How long will you take?”

She’s asking all the right questions. Maybe it will be easy for her to fit into the slums of Gotham. 

“Not long,” Red Hood promised. “Ten minutes at most.”

The collection of people who have gathered in the warehouse all swallowed uncomfortably. Everybody knew that when Red Hood dealt with things quickly, it typically ended in copious amounts of bloodshed and shock. 

“Okay,” Marinette paused, grip loosening on her backpack. “Ten minutes.

#

Red Hood doesn’t particularly want to have Marinette around for the violence that’s about to occur, but she’s already seen him shoot one person, so it’s too late to shield her innocence. And violence? It’s a slippery slope.

He makes quick work of the room; half of the people he brought out here, he kills off directly. The other half are made to watch as the people they’ve associated with for years die in front of their eyes. This is a power play. A way to… persuade them to reform. Because the people he’s left alive? Red Hood has left them alive for two reasons. One. They’re not nearly as bad as most of the higher ups in Gotham. Two. If he kills all of the people who have dabbled in anything bad, the chain will be completely messed up, and there will be too much room for unknown variables to make their way up the ranks. He wants people he can control. And the people he’s left alive? He can keep all of them in line.

Marinette is not waiting outside for him. They’re right next to Crime Alley. This is not going to end well.

#

He’ll give the little girl props for somehow managing to avoid his detection. 

To be more precise, he’s hoping that she’s simply avoiding his detection, and hasn’t gotten swept up in something bad. 

It takes Jason three hours-- three hours-- to find the girl who can’t be much older than ten. Probably not even ten, judging by her size. 

“You’re lucky it’s me finding you, and not someone else, Pixie.” He finally catches a glance of her glaringly sparkly backpack, complete with fairies and unicorns covered in some sort of holographic overlay.

Marinette immediately backs up, looking definitively worse for the wear. She’s gained rips in her clothes and  a nasty looking scraped knee. Her face loses all color when she sees him. “S- sorry, sir. I swear I wasn’t running away, it’s just that there was someone outside who tried to grab me, and--”

If Jason didn’t know better, he’d believe the girl. 

However, he does have a decent number of connections, and those connections ensured that nobody was going to be able to come near the warehouse once his ‘meeting’ started. Though, he’ll have to have a talk with them, given that someone tried to pass the goods right before it started. Jason is fairly sure that the couple has been apprehended by now, but checking later tonight won’t hurt. 

Which means Marinette made the decision to run.

Again, that would have been a very, very smart decision had she not found herself in Crime Alley of all places. It looks like she’s learned a little bit about why she should stay away from places like this.

“It’s fine, Pixie. Like I said earlier, just call me Red Hood, or Hood. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Marinette balks.

Jason sighs. “Look, I know it’s hard to believe, but you can trust me. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. All I want is to see you safe.”

“But,” Marinette bites her lip. Her eyes drop to the guns at his side. That’s… that’s a good reason not to trust him, to be honest. If he were in her position, he’d already be running.

“Do you have anyone you can contact? Anyone you trust? I can take you to them.”

She’s starting to tear up, and god, Jason cannot deal with crying children. Marinette’s big, blue eyes and pigtails and her general smallness. He just can’t. “Please don’t cry. Please don’t cry. What, do you-- do you want a cookie or something? I can bring you to a bakery before we talk? Sweets are supposed to cheer kids up, right?”

Marinette lets out a watery laugh. 

“I like macaroons,” she offers.

#

“So, how old are you?”

In the warmth of the bakery, Marinette looks markedly more relaxed. She went to the bathroom to clean her face and cut off, and now she looks like the poster child of one of those band aid ads. Lively, a little mischievous, and, you know, a child.

She takes a delicate bite of the shortbread cookie-- not a macaroon, there aren’t many reputable bakeries in Gotham that are close and have French pastries. “Nine and a half.”

Oh man, she’s younger than Replacement. 

“You’ve really got no family here? None at all? No friends you can call?”

“No, I’m from France.”

Well, that certainly answers a lot of questions. But brings up additional ones. “You speak English very well.”

“Maman and Papa ran a very popular bakery. We got a lot of foreigners. Before we moved to Paris, we lived in New York.” She takes a sip of her drink, whipped cream stuck on her nose. “And I don’t remember anyone from New York. We moved to Paris when I was three.”

Jason sighs. “What do you want to do?”

“Maman said that if I were ever left on my own, my only job was to survive by any means.” 

“That’s…” He tries to find the right words. “Interesting advice.”

In what parallel universe do parents of a bakery in Paris-- one of the major cities in the world with the lowest crime rates--tell their children to survive by any means?

“Did she tell you how?”

Marinette tilts her head, pigtails bouncing. “She told me to trust my instincts and never to trust the police.”

Great. That explains why she didn’t ask for someone’s phone to call the police. Not that the police in Gotham are the best people to go to for a case like Marinette’s, but then again, there’s not really anybody good to go to for a case like hers. 

Vague advice is the best way to get a kid killed. But since Marinette isn’t already dead, it stands to reason that her instincts haven’t failed her yet, and he really does have no clue what to do with her.

He briefly contemplates taking her to Bruce, but strikes the idea down almost instantly. Marinette fits all of the requirements to become a Robin. Tragic backstory, black hair, blue eyes. He’s not going to put another child into Bruce’s hands just so he can ruin their life by not doing his job. Besides, Bruce doesn’t know he’s alive yet, and he wants to keep it that way for now.

“Then what do your instincts tell you to do?”

Does he feel like an idiot for asking a nine year old that? Yes, but what else is he supposed to do? Taking care of kids was never part of the job description when he signed up to be Red Hood. (Then again, it wasn’t like there was a job description to begin with.)

Marinette takes another bite of one of the cookies on her plate. “They tell me to stick close to you.”

Even better. She’s imprinted on him.

@jasonette-july-2k20