#A-Care Medical PA

[populationpensive]

Working in an ICU...

...Means that you meet people on the worst day of their lives.

A colleague of mine said this over the weekend, which was a very rough weekend for me in so many ways. My patients were complex and very sick. The families were challenging. So. Incredibly. Challenging.

I see the worst things that can happen to people. Every. Day. I am able to push it out most of the time. Some times, there is a true shit storm of circumstances that emotionally bankrupts me. That was this weekend for me.

I think it is sometimes easy to forget how vulnerable patients and families are in the ICU. It's easy to forget it is the worst day of their lives. And when these families can't control the illness of their loved one, I think they look for literally anything they can control. Sometimes that results in verbal abuse about policies, staff, and treatment. It can be so hard to deal with this. The amount of patience it takes is astronomical.

I will freely admit that I am very detached. You almost HAVE to be to a certain extent to DO the job. But even the most detached people have a breaking point.

It makes me grateful for every family that simply thanks me for my time. Every colleague that "gets it". Every person willing to listen to me when I am going home from work.

So, to all you health care people that struggle with this as I do, we've got this. Some how, we've got it.

[revelations-mp3]

Trying to acknowledge my wins today bcuz I feel like a complete failure ! I called for my prescription refill which I will definitely pick up tomorrow because I will run out of medication tomorrow 😐 and I made a doctors appointment which is honestly terrifying and I’m scared and anxious and scared

[ktkat99]

Chapter 21

Timmy and Clark's daily routine, and the changes to come

[ivebeenmade]

I already knew that 'prior authorisation' policies had gotten out of hand, but it actually hit me personally today.

The doctor bumped up my Lyrica, a non-narcotic pain management medication, and when I called the pharmacy to ask if it would be ready to get tomorrow, they explained that it had hit a PA. The reason?

My doctor wants me to be taking 100mg in the morning, 50 in the afternoon, and 100 at bedtime. She prescribed this in 50mg capsules. The insurance "does not allow" for more than 3 pills of this med per patient per day.

Does Not Allow. As if an insurer understands the needs of a patient, or should ever have a say over a medical professional.

This means the doc has to send 2 different prescriptions in. One total 50mg capsule for the midday dose, two total capsules per day for the morning and night.

So I have to organise and remember two different pills for the same med every day; taking one bottle everywhere with me so I can take it around lunch, keeping the other home for my pill organiser.

What a giant pain in the ass. What a totally weird restriction.

What's even worse is that I literally just took my last full dose today, and this med can cause pretty nasty withdrawal symptoms.

I have 2 more 50mg doses I am going to space out for the next 2 days- *just in case* asking them to rewrite scripts in a way my insurance approves of doesn't get done in the hours the primary care office and the pharmacy are both open tomorrow.

[vampyroteuthid]

i had such a nice dream last night where i went to a doctor and she was so competent and took me seriously and was very helpful and i wasn't even worried about paying for it. this would never happen in the united states in real life but it was a good dream

[quillheel]

☕ (My Harry & your Kim)

Send me “ ☕ “ for my muse to drink tea uniquely flavored after your muse, and I’ll tell you what my muse tastes! // accepting!

When the thermos is passed, Kim is dubiously hesitant to sip its contents. Glances spared into the dark metal container where a thousand tiny lights reflect back up at him off the angles of glitter that seem to consume the liquid, bouncing off the sharp lines of his glasses, highlighting the ridges of his face; cheekbone meeting upper-eye meeting the crease of his nose between. He questions, and the answer he receives is likely as inane but incredulously trustworthy ━ which is to say, only Kim would trust it ━ and he is prodded to drink. A sigh, a murmuring of If you're trying to poison me, at least have an alibi… before it's raised like a chalice to the lips and, tentatively, he drinks.

He swears the glitter clogs his through the moment he does, and he chokes. ( although, the choking may not all be from the glitter. ) Like congealed blood, glitter clinging, he can feel the pieces cut micro-ribbons of flesh down his esophagus as it slides down in a wet mass, leaving behind it a terrible feeling of glitter lining the space between his lungs down, down, down. The taste is indescribable ━ sharp and salty and sweet and bitter and tangy all at once, apricots and rotten fruit and alcohol, the taste of sweat and iron and cinnamon, unpleasantly cold at first which becomes kinder as it soothes the roughness of the throat's wounds before the heat hits the way habanero in coffee does. like dark chocolate, like stale cake frosting, like pleasantly unpleasant soreness, sweet-sour wine, cloying cheap children's medicine, nausea-inducing cigarette smoke.

Indescribable the way cubic measurements of atmosphere containing updraft are indescribable, not indescribable the way metrics too large and too small become nothing. indescribable like space, like music, like sea.

Like God, he thinks, like Innocence. he corrects; Like God. Like Pale. Innocence is a dead language they've been trying to read, and neither of them, neither of them, were born enough to be that again. But maybe they were, once. Like Pale. Like dreaming. Like oblivion. ( Apricots still linger in it like fruit floating on saltwater, fermenting on waves, cracked wide as geodes and spilling guts, spilling light. Beneath it is an oil spill 300 kilometers long from a model of motor carriage that has not been made since the day he was born, mingling, separate, beneath, above. Like tainting it, like swallowing it whole, like becoming more by virtue of what he gives, by no virtue at all. ) Like God, he thinks, like Innocence.

Kitsuragi's composure returns to him, and with the embarrassment of a freshman being handed a drink he couldn't handle, he screws the thermos shut again, and passes it back with the more guttural-than-usual sound of clearing his throat. He pulls off a glove and swipes the flesh of a hand over his mouth, bottom lip coated in the shine of something like lip-gloss beneath the chunky square glitter clinging to it. Stubbornly, pieces remain regardless of how hard he scrubs it away, caught in the cracks between lips, before he sighs, slips a glove back on, and resolves to chew on the skin for the rest of the day, if only to hide it, until he can attempt to better extract it somewhat mournfully with the bristles of a toothbrush. A small part of him asks him to let it stay, and the rest of him refuses. A moments consideration, but little else ━ at least for now, anyway, at least for now.

As the flavor lingers on his tongue like an unwelcome guest, progressively, it shifts. never does it lose the sharpened edges, the quality of chaos, the almost fermented kind of age & simultaneous unblended freshness to it, all mixed together and separate all at once, but over time it mellows, perhaps, or maybe Kim just gets used to it. the acidic highs mesh better with the taste of artificial fruit and the heat lends itself as he considers it to the taste of cheap coffee and dark chocolate. grape sugar with the salt and bitter not better but a different taste than they would be alone, iron manageable with the undertone of something other than the blood ━ maybe it becomes more palatable the longer its in his mouth, accustomed like an acquired taste king of all acquired tastes, or maybe it just burns itself out the longer it's left to mix with something other than itself. Saliva like a neutralizer to however many medications he can feel, chalky, on the underside of his tongue.

The heat subsides and the bitterness erodes, slowly and fast all at once, and a smoother kind of flavor emerges from beneath all of it. soft lime and distant haze of honey and a kind of watered down cocktail, no longer sharp with alcohol, but cold anyway. like something hidden, like something suffocated, like something that couldn't afford to come out unless it knew, really knew, it wasn't going to be rejected. the craze of the rest does not die, but the aftertaste offers a different kind of kindness, like hangover medication after a bad night. charcoal pill, cool water, dimmed lights. ( acts of love, acts of not wanting to see someone dear in pain, acts of staying with them; staying with them; regardless of how wretched they were the night before. people cant get that sad, she said to you once, or you thought she did, but people will love you enough to kneel at your bedside and hold your sweaty hand and close the blinds so the world can't see you for just a little while more. people will love you and be loved and try to save you, and maybe you cannot be saved, no one can, there is no messiah waiting at the foot of your bed to cure you, the world just doesn't work like that, and you can't keep waiting for it, but people will love you enough to wash the stains out from your favorite shirt so you can keep it a little longer.

people who bring cold cloths when you are sick and sweet coffee when you need something to keep you warm, people who can't save you but can in the same strokes; where it's not saving you, it's giving you the means to save yourself. people who work you through it as you lift the stones you're building castles out of, hoping, praying that you don't smash them down again. people who stand proud for you at the checkmarks in the road, and tell you that you're doing good, and wait for you when you can't keep running, or even when you turn back and decide it's easier to give up than to sink in deeper. people you've treated bad before, and cannot stay forever, and cannot save you, but they love you enough to stay a little longer. they love you enough to hold you when you need it, and hold you down when you need that too, and make the hard calls you'll hate them for. they love you hard enough that it turns into hate when it's fed the wrong things, giving dogs chocolate, but they love you, love you, love you. )

it soothes pain of his throat, and Kim does not concede to the fact he finds himself wanting another sip, another shot of chaos and that sweeter smoother aftertaste, knowing what he's putting in his body and deciding to come back anyway, wondering, but he admits; quietly to himself as he holds the pieces of glitter in his hands like the shed skin of a disco ball in his little bathroom in the Whirling that night; that maybe the pain is worth the reward. that maybe he's crazy, but maybe they both need a little sanity, a little less, a little something else.

( kneeling at your bedside when you are too afraid to sleep, he traces the scars nickering your hands, and cleans his glasses, and slowly; slowly; the apricots stop mattering. as you notice a little more how the oil spill gleams on the crest of waves, as the oil spill becomes something different. )

-100 HP. +660 HP.

[populationpensive]

This is a great response. *claps*

While I did not attend medical school, the path to PA school (all the shadowing, patient care hours etc), and the school itself also forced me to grow up rather quickly.

Working in health care gives you a perspective that you don't normally appreciate. When you are training to make decisions, break bad news, and have tough conversations, you end up (hopefully) developing a certain kind of maturity level that makes living just a little more meaningful than it was before. That perspective is enlightening for the things that really matter. Sometimes, what matters isn't curing the disease but making sure there is a death with dignity - these are the things your schooling teaches.

I am personally happy I didn't get into graduate school until 27. I speak with so many pre-health people who are afraid of the gap year(s).

Don't. Fear. The. Gap. Year

That time helps prepare you for the emotionally bankrupting experience that can be graduate school.

I also agree with the introvert sentiment - you either earn to be a "people person" (big fucking air quotes there) or you need to find a specialty that supports your...no people mindset. Or you need to find a different path.

Hello Dr. Wayfaring, I'd like to ask in what special ways ,if any, your medical school changed you. (Besides instructing you!) Was there something in the environment,the faculty, the students,the physical setting?

This is a great question. I think, if anything, medical school made me more confident in dealing with people. I was always the kid who didn’t want to order the pizza or tell the waitress my order because it meant I’d have to talk to another human. My mother, on the other hand, will know the Walmart checkout lady’s life story before she’s finished bagging her groceries. I just don’t love talking to people I don’t know. I’m a deep introvert at heart.

Med school forces you to face that discomfort in talking to new people, and it does it on a daily basis. It’s no problem for me to talk to strangers in the office (although I still won’t strike up a conversation in the checkout line). I’m not a confrontational person, but med school also taught me how to handle difficult news or difficult patient encounters with grace and civility. So while I still don’t love confronting patients about their illicit drug use or their inappropriate behavior, I can do it without panicking.

Overall, I’d say med school forced me into adulthood. I went straight through from college to med school and graduated at only 25, so I was still not fully ready to adult at that age. But once you’ve watched some people die, a few get born, and have given bad news to a dozen or more people, you learn that you really can put on your big girl panties and do the things.

Medblrs, how did medical school change you?

[genderqueerdykes]

one of the most evil parts about me being told that i needed to lose weight before i could get my diseased gallbladder removed was that without telling me at all whatsoever, the physician's assistant who was responsible for my surgery consult silently gave me a referral for bariatric weight loss surgery. she told me that i'd have to get my gallbladder removal surgery with that department as well because they're used to working on bigger bodies.

she told me this, but that's not what she meant. she wanted me to get bariatric weight loss surgery all because i told her that i have poly cystic ovarian syndrome and that it's hard for me to willingly lose weight. when i called the bariatric surgeons about scheduling my consult for my gallbladder removal, they were extremely confused and were like "well is this for the bariatric surgery referral or the gallbladder removal referral?"

without my permission, without me asking, the physician's assistant silently signed me up for weight loss surgery that i never consented to. i never once mentioned wanting this surgery. i never once mentioned that my weight is affecting my health or bothering me. this person saw this as a mandatory step in order to get the surgery to remove my diseased organ. as if there were no other options. i never want to get bariatric weight loss surgery because i know it will completely devastate my health. this PA was so stuck on my weight. she could not get over it, she was literally obsessed. she did not care about my health, safety or well being, she was just obsessed with her hatred of fat people

she saw my weight as a higher priority than my diseased gallbladder. she was so stuck up her own ass that she was convinced that my weight was doing more damage to me than my gallbladder was. she wanted to keep blaming me for eating a high fat diet (i'm a vegetarian- i don't eat a high fat diet) and mocking me for being fat. she literally saw me being fat as a bigger issue than the fact that i had a literal rock stuck in the neck of one of my organs. if you ask me, if the surgeons and anesthesiologists have problems working on fat patients, that's a skill issue on them. that means you're a bad surgeon or anesthesiologist and you need to try to improve your skills. this is a literal skill issue, it's not the patient's fault that the medical professional fucking sucks at their job!

i can't describe to you how evil and insidious that is. the fact that she looked at me and went "oh my fucking god it's your weight that's the problem just go lose weight you fat asshole" just showed how much disregard she has for her fat patients. it's like she relishes torturing us or leaving us to be sick or die. there's no reason to behave this way. there's no reason to FORCE someone into weight loss surgery. my health is NOT being negatively impacted by my weight- gallstones are not caused by being overweight, and you can't give yourself gallstones. no matter how much fat you eat you can't give yourself gallstones- this is something that happens outside of your control

i hate medical professionals who are proudly fatphobic. they wear the fact that they let people remain sick and die as a badge of honor. like they're doing the world a favor. like staying sick or dying is better off for the patient. like the patient somehow doesn't "DESERVE" to be in good health. fat people DO deserve to be in good health. we DON'T have to "EARN" surgeries or life saving procedures. we are alive and human just like everyone else. this qualifies us for being cared for medically, no matter what. leave your prejudices at home. you can't just kill fat people because you don't like that we exist.

[onlyherefortheshowmances]

TW/CW: Suicidal ideation (without intent currently).

TL/DR:  I am trying to find a doctor anywhere in the state of Pennsylvania that accepts UPMC for You (medicaid) and is willing to at least try solve to my medical mystery. Preferably a family doctor with connections to a rheumatologist and possibly neurology and/or pain management. One that will actually listen and not give up and actually care that I'm in acute pain. I feel like my own body is trying to kill me. I have for a month or more. 

I want every single blood test you can do on a person. Every possible imaging study you can do. A sleep study. Another Holter monitor. LITERRALLY EVERYTHING because I am so tired of 'try this, try this' I want to know for sure exactly what is causing this.

At this point I just need a single doctor to either tell me I'm dying (which is what it feels like is happening) or one to tell me what's actually wrong and causing all this and how we can actually treat it while dealing with the immediate pain.

I'm tired of going to ERs every week. I'm tired of doctor's who are more afraid of the DEA than they are of their patient's dying. Because I don't want to wake up with this pain tomorrow morning. I cannot live life like this. 

This pain and the fact that no one in the medical field (other than my PT) seems to care about it at all. This pain that my current PCP respond to "I want someone to actually figure out what's wrong with me." by saying "We don't know." as if it is not literally her job to figure that out. I went through the entire appointment saying "What about the pain I'm in right now?" And all that happened was she took me off Lyrica which had side effects I couldn't deal with and prescribed Savella instead and told me to come back in a week once I titrate up to the correct dosage. What about that week? I don't have enough meds from the ER to last until next Tuesday ma'am. I was there on Saturday and they are legally only allowed to prescribe 3 days work of narcotics. He did give me 10 days worth of flexeril for which I'm grateful, but that on its own isn't enough, and my PCP won't give me anything at all. I literally told her my previous family doc only checked my TSH level not T3 or T4 (thyroid hormones). Did she order the additional tests? Has she ordered any tests at all in fact? NO. And she keeps saying insomnia when I tell her I have to take the oxy and flexeril to be able to sleep through the night. THAT'S NOT INSOMNIA. THAT IS ME BEING IN SO MUCH PAIN THAT I CAN'T SLEEP. At my appointment today I told her that almost every morning when I wake up in excruciating pain, I wish I wouldn’t’ve woken up at all; that death feels like a better option and that that thought scared me as someone with a history of suicidal ideation and attempts, and she literally did not care an ounce.

My Rheumatologist keeps trying to give me prednisone which DOES NOT WORK! And says take 2 Aleve twice a day. If Aleve worked for my pain do you think I would have been to the emergency room FOUR times since March 16th? I wouldn't have requested to see you sooner if Aleve did anything.

Not one person has cared about my sudden onset fatigue spells that keep getting more frequent to the point I'm hesitant to drive very far unless absolutely necessary because one of these times I'm gonna actually pass out. That's probably what it'll take for the medical professionals to care. Me falling asleep while driving. I think this may be POTS, because I also get random bouts of 'benign' tachycardia at the most random times.

They just keep slapping labels on things instead of just actually checking or even asking me half the time. I'm about 80% sure I have EDS, but apparently the closest person that will even test let alone diagnose someone over the age of 18 is in Philadelphia and I'd need a referral from my Rheumatologist to see that person.

[populationpensive]

PHYSICIAN ASSISTANT/ PHYSICIAN ASSOCIATE AWESOMENESS

Are you a PA-C? Are you a PA-S? Are you interested in becoming a PA? Want to be in health care and not sure about life decisions? You can find active #pablr people here! You can also add yourself if you're a committed PA person.

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The community is organized primarily by myself and @simplysupergirl at this point. Usually when we have time and can bother to update the list. Originally created in 2013 by yours truly.

As of 12/1/2022, I have updated this list and purged it of outdated accounts (i.e. has not updated since before 2020), bots, and canceled accounts.

Other awesome health care related hashtags are #medblr (med school/residency), #pharmblr (pharmacy school/pharmacists), and #nurblr (nurses!).

[er-osion]

Stumble In(to my life)

pairing: Jason Todd x gn!Reader

summary: You tend to Red Hood after he’s mildly injured on patrol, he then sticks around a little.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: none, fluff

author’s note: you can find part 2 here

∾∾∘⋅∗⋄⋆⋄∗⋅∘∾∾

You looked up from your books to the soft thump outside your window. A normal person wouldn’t have heard the noise at all, but your ears had become accustomed to listening for it. It was late, far later than you should be up, but tonight was a night filled with studying and anxiety, so sleep evaded you. You put a bookmark in your textbook and closed it, being careful of your notes, and got up from your couch. You just reached the window as a large armored figure clamored through. Backing up, you gave the beast of a man space to gracefully tumble through your window and into your apartment. The sound of sirens off in the distance became muffled once again when the man closed the window tightly behind him.

Red Hood never said much. A man of few words you supposed, at least when he was injured —which was the only time you saw him. You couldn’t recall when this little arrangement between the two of you began, maybe around a year ago. The Red Hood crashed and stumbled into your life one fateful night, and had been doing so ever since. But only when he needed a patch job, and he never took off his helmet. Even when you could tell he had a head injury that needed tending, he wouldn’t remove the red helmet. You knew he trusted you, clearly a lot more than he trusted others, but a part of you was still a little hurt. You'd known him for so long and still yet to see his real face or hear his real voice unmodulated. Oddly enough, you’d call Hood a friend. Even if you didn’t know his real name along with many other things about him, and even if he knew very little about you other than the basics, you’d consider him a good friend. And deep down you’re sure he thinks the same.

Hood slumps down on the couch, but you notice he’s careful to avoid being anywhere near your textbooks and notes. You silently appreciate the move, since last time he got blood on your papers and you had to come up with a believable story for your professor explaining why there were blood splatters on your homework.

“Rough night?” You ask jokingly as you get out the first aid kit. Hood gives a ‘Hmpf’ in response and rests his head against the back of the couch. You move your school stuff off the coffee table and set out the supplies from the first aid kit. You let your eyes roam his figure to try and find the injuries you’d be taking care of tonight. You slyly take in Hood’s toned muscles as you look for wounds, taking the action as a less obvious chance to check him out. However secretive he may be, you can’t deny the man looks good. Actually, “looks good” is an understatement, his abs could cut diamonds.

“How many bruises are you gonna have in the morning?” You ask as you help him take off his leather jacket which is crusted with dried blood here and there.

“Too many.” He’s short with his words but by now you can hear the underlying exhaustion in them. His voice sounds robotic from the mask, but it still brings you a wave of comfort to hear.

“Anything I can’t see?” This phrase has become your way of asking where his most concerning injuries are, and whether or not he’s comfortable with you dealing with them.

“No, tonight’s just the obvious stuff.”

“Not any less painful I presume.”

“And as usual, you’re right, angel.” Your lips quirk up in the ghost of a smile at the nickname. You’ve started cleaning the gashes on his arms and wrapping them with gauze and bandages. Hood relaxes a bit more into the couch, tensing only when you start cleaning wounds with the cold water and saline solution.

As you’re working your mind drifts into thinking about the nature of your relationship with this vigilante. Part of you is proud, honored even, that the elusive Red Hood trusts you enough to seek you out for medical care. But another part of you, the part you don’t really want to acknowledge, is angry he only ever visits when he needs fixing. He doesn’t tell you anything about himself, not even ice-breaker facts, and he doesn’t really ask about you. He doesn’t drop by anytime he’s not injured and he never tells you when he’s coming, he just shows up at your window injured without warning. Your heart stings when you think that you might be dead last on Red Hood’s priority list, especially considering he’s first on yours. Does he really only think of you as a patch job? Someone who will treat him without asking any questions? Does he even have any interest in your life at all? Does he ever think about you when he’s not around, like you think of him? By now, you’ve lost yourself in the spiral of your thoughts and are blankly working out of muscle memory. You don’t even notice, but Red Hood does.

Jason watches you work through the eyes of his helmet. He can see the distance in your eyes and can tell you’re thinking hard about something else. But even as your mind wanders, your hands do not. You work efficiently and effectively on cleaning and wrapping his wounds. You take care to check for broken bones and remove any debris you find in his skin. He appreciates you. He’s certain he appreciates you more than you’ll ever know. He didn’t realize how lucky he was when he stumbled through your window all those nights ago. He didn’t realize that night that he’d gain a safe haven. He’s never felt more secure than when he’s with you in your apartment. Jason’s never felt more comfortable than when in your presence. He thinks it’s a little odd. You don’t know what his face looks like, hell, you don’t even know his real name, but his trust in you is an ever flowing river. Jason trusts you more than he trusts himself sometimes. Jason blinks out of a trance he didn’t realize he was in and focuses back on you. The lamps in your apartment provide the only measly light for you to work with, but right now they aren’t crummy. No, the lamps have painted your figure in a warm glow that has Jason’s heart stuttering in an unusual way. The homey furniture melts into the dim background and you're the only thing in focus in Jason’s vision. It’s moments like these when Jason is hit with a flurry of emotions he doesn’t understand. You finish wrapping his last bandage and look up at him with the most gentle but curious eyes he’s ever seen and Red Hood suddenly feels like he’s about to choke. His chest swirls with feelings and he can’t even begin to grasp what they are or what they mean. He wants to say “thank you, thank you for always looking after me even when I don’t deserve it,” but the words get caught in his throat. There’s a tranquil silence that follows where you just look at each other, of course, you can’t tell exactly what Red Hood is looking at but you can feel his gaze on you. When a minute passes you get up slowly and start to put the first aid kit away. Jason watches you from behind the safety of his helmet and moves to help you package everything back up.

Hood’s gloved hand picks up a roll of gauze and brings it over to the kit, but you quickly —albeit gently— put your hand over his to stop him and take the gauze yourself. “You don’t have to do that. You’re injured, rest.” You say with quiet authority and go back to cleaning up the table. Hood doesn’t say anything but leans back into the couch and doesn’t continue to help, though deep down he wants to. He feels he owes you, he knows he owes you. He wants to do something, anything to pay back the kindness you’ve shown him but he can never think of the right thing to do.

“You’re welcome to sit here for a bit, regain some energy before you head to wherever it is you hide during the day. I’ve just got some notes to finish for class.” You provide as you sit down in the chair next to your sofa, repositioning all your textbooks and papers. Hood just nods in reply. “Oh, and you can turn on the tv if you’d like, I don’t mind.” There’s a pause before you see the vigilante move to grab the remote and turn on your tv. You smile a bit at your papers, finding a small happiness in the fact he’s able to settle into your home so well. You secretly wish he’d come and watch tv with you just for fun, not because he needs to recover from a stab wound.

Every once in a while, Jason’s eyes drift from the tv screen to where you’re seated taking notes for your class. Jason does his best to memorize this moment and neatly pack it away in a safe little box in his brain. He wants to remember this quiet moment of togetherness forever. He wants to say something, he wants your beautiful eyes back on him but he also doesn’t want to disrupt the pleasant quiet that swirls around your living room.

Red Hood clears his throat and shimmies into a straighter posture. “Thanks by the way.” You look up at the vigilante and tilt your head in confusion at his remark.

“For what?” You let out a small chuckle, the confusion is evident in your voice. Jason’s lips quirk up in a small smile under his helmet at your confusion at his thanks.

“For all this to start,” Hood motions to himself “and also just for letting me in here. For letting me into your home without fair warning. Your patience with my bullshit seems to know no bounds, you deserve an award merely for that. So… thanks.” Thank you for letting me into your life and making me feel cared for, Jason wants to add on, but that seems a little too open about his feelings for the moment. He hopes you’re able to pick up on the subtext of his words, he hopes you can put together the puzzle pieces of his words that form the colorful picture of his appreciation for you.

You smile lightly, “Of course, Hood. Believe it or not, I actually enjoy having your giant smartass around.” You took a deep breath and let loose a shot in the dark. “I just wish you’d stumble in here when you weren’t injured sometimes, just to hang around.” You awkwardly divert your eyes to the floor and take a major interest in the small stains in the wood. Hood is quiet and unmoving and you can’t tell if that’s good or bad, you can’t tell if you crossed an unspoken line. Jason’s mind is reeling, trying to catch up with the implications of your words. Do you mean you want him around more? Do you mean you want a deeper friendship with him? Do you mean you truly enjoy his presence so much you want more of it in your life? You risk a look back up at Red Hood and when Jason sees the genuine look in your eyes he hopes the modulator in his helmet doesn’t give away the deep breath he had to intake to try and calm his heart.

“Well, maybe I’ll have to drop by more often then, angel.” Hood tries to play off the deepness of the moment with suave teasing, he has to retain at least a little dignity in front of you.

You smirk at his clearly playful comeback, “Just make sure you show up with takeout or some groceries. I can’t be providing everything for you all of the time.” Hood huffs out a laugh.

“I think I can manage that.”

“Good.” You smile warmly at him and Jason mirrors you beneath his helmet. There’s a soft silence that follows where the two of you just look at each other. Then you go back to finishing your notes with the smile still plastered on your face. Jason is already planning out his schedule so he can drop in just for fun as soon as possible without seeming desperate to hang out.

“My cuts are pretty sore by the way and I’m quite fatigued so I might have to stay for a bit longer.”

“Hm, well if that’s what you need to do then I can’t deny you. I’m not going to kick Gotham's hero out of my apartment while he’s down.” You know he’s not really that sore or fatigued. You can tell by his body language or his tone of voice when he is. You know he’s just saying that to ask if it’s okay if he stays a bit longer than usual. Of course, you’d never say no. You’d offer him to stay the night but you don’t want him to get uncomfortable, though deep down, you’re desperate for his prolonged presence.

“Tch, that’s a relief. However, I’m afraid I might also need some moral support, as you can see, your poor hero of Gotham has had a rough night.”

You smirk and raise an eyebrow but don’t deny him. You get up from your seat and move to sit next to him on the couch. Your finished notes are left forgotten on your previous chair and you dial into the show Hood was watching on the tv. “Well then, I guess it’s a good thing my hero of Gotham and I have a similar taste in tv —it makes giving moral support easier.” You feel Hood’s quiet chuckle through the vibrations of the couch, a feeling you want again and again. Jason tries not to think too hard on your use of the word ‘my’ or how it’s echoing in his head like a tantalizing mantra.

“A good thing indeed.”

“I didn’t realize vigilantes had time to pick favorite tv shows.”

“How else do you think we pass the time waiting for a store to be robbed during patrol?”

“I figured you just brooded the entire time, seeing as you costumed weirdos can never get over anything in your entire lives.”

“How rude, us weirdos do get over things, like buildings or cars when chasing down our enemies.”

“Hardy har har, I bet you think you’re clever for that one.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think, I know I’m clever for that one.”

“So arrogant.”

“Not arrogant, confident.”

“If that’s what you want to call it, sure.” The lighthearted banter between the two of you fills the room with the warmth of familiarity. Neither of you seemed to notice how close you’d gotten to each other on instinct. Your shoulders are just brushing his and you can feel his body heat seeping into your skin. You’re fighting the urge to press closer and unbeknownst to you, Jason is doing the same. Your body and heart is begging you to rest your head against Hood’s leather-clad shoulder but you push the thoughts down in fear of making things awkward or scaring him off. Jason’s mind is running rampant with internal pleas for you to rest against him, he wants nothing more right now than to feel the comfortable weight of you against his side. But Jason doesn’t act or speak any of these thoughts into reality, worried he’ll cross a line or make you uncomfortable. So the two of you sit there on your couch for who knows how long. Mingling on the side of cuddling but not quite reaching the threshold. Both of you sit contented with the closeness and security of spending what had been a rough evening together, but silently desperate for more. But more is for a different evening, another night when Red Hood stumbles through your window.

[bitchesgetriches]

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Saving Money and Being Frugal

We’re all in this together. Don’t give up.

On food and groceries:

How to Shop for Groceries like a Boss

Why Name Brand Products Are Beneath You: The Honor and Glory of Buying Generic

If You Don’t Eat Leftovers I Don’t Even Want to Know You

You Are above Bottled Water, You Elegant Land Mermaid

You Should Learn To Cook. Here’s Why.

On entertainment and socializing:

The Frugal Introvert’s Guide to the Weekend

7 Totally Reasonable Ways To Save Money on Cheap Entertainment 

Take Pride in Being a Cheap Date

The Library Is a Magical Place and You Should Fucking Go There

Your Library Lets You Stream Audiobooks and eBooks FOR FREEEEEEE!

What’s the Effect of Social Media on Your Finances?

You Won’t Regret Your Frugal 20s

On health:

How to Pay Hospital Bills When You’re Flat Broke

Run With Me if You Want to Save: How Exercising Will Save You Money

Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care Tactics

Why You Probably Don’t Need That Gym Membership

How to Get DIRT CHEAP Pet Medication, Without a Prescription 

On other big expenses:

Businesses Will Happily Give You HUGE Discounts if You Ask This Magic Question

Understand the Hidden Costs of Travel and Avoid Them Like the Plague

Other People’s Weddings Don’t Have to Make You Broke

You Deserve Cheap, Fake Jewelry… Just Like Coco Chanel

3 Times I Was Damn Grateful for My Emergency Fund (and Side Income) 

When (and How) to Try Refinancing or Consolidating Student Loans

The Real Story of How I Paid Off My Mortgage Early in 4 Years 

Season 2, Episode 2: “I’m Not Ready to Buy a House—But How Do I *Get Ready* to Get Ready?”

The Most Impactful Financial Decision I’ve Ever Made… and Why I Don’t Recommend It

On buying secondhand and trading:

Almost Everything Can Be Purchased Secondhand

I Am a Craigslist Samurai and so Can You: How to Sell Used Stuff Online

The Delicate Art of the Friend Trade

On giving gifts and charitable donations:

How Can I Tame My Family’s Crazy Gift-Giving Expectations?

In Defense of Shameless Regifting

Make Sure Your Donations Have the Biggest Impact by Ruthlessly Judging Charities

The Anti-Consumerist Gift Guide: I Have No Gift to Bring, Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum

How to Spot a Charitable Scam

Ask the Bitches: How Do I Say “No” When a Loved One Asks for Money… Again? 

On resisting temptation:

How to Insulate Yourself From Advertisements

Making Decisions Under Stress: The Siren Song of Chocolate Cake

The Magically Frugal Power of Patience

6 Proven Tactics for Avoiding Emotional Impulse Spending

On minimalism and buying less:

Don’t Spend Money on Shit You Don’t Like, Fool

Everything I Know About Minimalism I Learned from the Zombie Apocalypse

Slay Your Financial Vampires

The Subscription Box Craze and the Mindlessness of Wasteful Spending

On saving money:

How To Start Small by Saving Small

Not Every Savings Account Is Created Equal

The Unexpected Benefits (and Downsides) of Money Challenges

Budgets Don’t Work for Everyone—Try the Spending Tracker System Instead

From HYSAs to CDs, Here’s How to Level Up Your Financial Savings

Season 2, Episode 10: “Which Is Smarter: Getting a Loan? or Saving up to Pay Cash?”

The Magic of Unclaimed Property: How I Made $1,900 in 10 Minutes by Being a Disorganized Mess

We will periodically update this list with newer articles. And by “periodically” I mean “when we remember that it’s something we forgot to do for four months.”

Bitches Get Riches: setting realistic expectations since 2017!

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[miramelo]

A little Birdie told me...

It Made me so happy that a LOT of you guys liked my latest au!!

To answer a few questions in no particular order, Danny doesn't suddenly make Joker a better person. I based the Joker of this au in a few issues I saw where he shows a little bit of care or twisted love.

There's one issue where instead of killing a Man he just cuts a few fingers off since he met the guy's kid, there's one where he took in a monkey as his son and It looks like he mourns him when he dies.

I see Joker being a narcissist type of parent,he cares for Danny AND he DOES love him! But is not pure, Joker sees Danny as perfect, the kid he dreamed of.

They might snap at eachother but they end up playing nice at the bat of an eye

In this au Ace AND Joker JR are did happen, I figured he had a back up double that doesn't retain ALL of the old Joker memories so he doesn't remember Batman nor Robin identities

Danny has a lot of BIG mood swings, they can be blamed not only to trauma but also to "medication" he takes (Joker venon)

He has issues when It comes to the bats: thinks of Batman as his other dad because JR was created 'cuz Joker wanted to have a laugh at his dear ol' Batsy AND Danny was changed because he reminded Joker of JR. calls Batman Da' and Joker Pa'

He projects A LOT on the red haired librarian, she's so nice!! And makes him think of Jazz(sometimes he thinks she's Jazz when he can't quite understand what's real and what isn't)

A few early sketches under the cut

Tw for teeth and scars

[mamawasatesttube]

Hi!

Would you happen to have any fic rec that respect Kon (and Tim) as a character and don't write a totally other character with just the same name?

(I really do not have any criteria, i don't care if there is a romantic ship or not I really just want to read a fic with the least amount of mischaracterization as possible-)

I really like your blog so I thought that I would ask!!

hiya!! this is gonna be a short and noncomprehensive list because unfortunately i have a migraine today and braining is hard, but def check out my general #fic rec tag too!

chrysalis by @loisinherlane. its a superfam fic about kon and the concept of growing up and it makes me so 🥺 the kon & ma and the kon & kara bits in particular. oaugh

fill in the blanks by @mindshelter is just so cute. its temporary amnesiac tim looking at kon and immediately going heart eyes. great look at kon from an "outsider" perspective AND fun insight into how tim's ridiculous mind works!

practical applications of a memorized heartbeat by @comphetkoncass tim gets fucked up and kon gets to put his ttk skills to the test (i.e. life-saving medical ttk applications). i dearly love when kon is Competent!!!!!

i want your complications too by @loisinherlane is more about clois than kon, but he features here as a 7 year old clone that superman rescued from cadmus early and i die every time bc hes so Fuckigningngng cute. babby.

hand on my stupid heart by @misspickman gets me in the "kon you have fucking issues please get help buddy" (he will not) department. the smallville parts (lori!!!! my beloved!!!!) are particularly chefs kiss!!

within the rubble and the harvest by @radioactive-earthshine for. well! speaking of kon and smallville!!!! ahhghgh!!! KON and SMALLVILLE!!! im so fascinated by his adjustment period and his love for ma and pa and. ough. all the tiny details are so good too. i love u kon and smallville.

AND finally not to toot my own horn but in case you haven't already seen MY kon fics, a quick self-plug here:

the courage of stars by... ME!!!! a kon post-resurrection character study dealing with the overlap of internalized homophobia and all that suicidal ideation he's been carrying around from day one. what's a guy supposed to do when he's pretty sure he came back wrong, 'cuz he's pretty sure he was never supposed to come back at all, but no one else can see it?

[brucewaynehater101]

the empire starts noticing that their baby emperor will often be more than a little banged up when he comes to see them in person and they are very worried for their baby, competition to be the imperial physician is fierce but also very stressful for the ones with the position because humans aren't exactly new in space anymore but they're not precisely common either. The position of imperial chef and other positions that concern taking care of the emperor and the imperial consorts is even fiercer.

Previously the empire more or less figured that this mysterious "earth" where their baby emperor makes his primary residence is fairly peaceful and a safe place for him to grow. However, stories finally reach the empire, which started very far from earth and very out of the way of any earth related gossip, about constant invasions that target earth and the general chaos that earth faces on a day to day basis. In hindsight for the empire it makes sense that their baby emperor is from such a dangerous world since he himself is very dangerous despite being so young and adorable. No wonder he's been able to handle their own broken infrastructure and the increasingly large responsibilities that they've put on his little shoulders. There is guilt and there is horror that babies are facing this and, again given their relative condition when they visit the empire in person, obviously they are not being properly cared for.

Finally a delegation from the great Red Bird Empire (robins are an earth species with no equivalent in the empire but there are lots of birds and the color red is known) goes to earth, they arrive in their finest discowing formal fashion to petition the protectors of earth to allow a small group of them to make a base on earth to assist their royal family who has taken refuge on the jl protected planet. They are not there to battle anyone or anything. They are there to make sure their emperor and his consorts are fed, have proper medical attention, and access to an appropriate wardrobe as befits their stations. They might also try to persuade their emperor and his consorts to visit the empire in person more often. While he does a fantastic job of governing from a distance (and at this point Tim has arranged things so he really barely does anything except when a new planet joins and each planet is basically self governing) they miss C4 actually being there.

JL internally freaking out a little because apparently they've had an alien prince? princess? king? goddess? emperor? a royal alien family? somewhere on earth for ages and there could have been a huge diplomatic incident if anything had happen to this royal family, like the family being crushed by a falling building during one of superman's fights, or hit by a tsunami, or earthquake, or even just a stupid speeding car. JL is under the impression that the imperial family on earth fled this empire at some point because of political upheaval and this is a group of imperial loyalists that's only just now gotten enough power to come keep a proper eye on the hidden royals. JL is now worried about alien assassins after the hidden imperial family. At least some part of the JL would like this imperial family to leave earth please.

Based on the delegations costumes, at least one member of the league suspects that the hidden prince of the empire is Dick. This is further supported when the imperial keeper of the wardrobe somehow finds out about Discowing and fawns over Nightwing and goes on about their impeccable fashion sense and how they are revolutionary in the field of haute couture.

Batman may have a small aneurysm when he learns that the alien delegation first thinks to set up in his city. Tim might also panic a little because no, that's too dangerous for them! And instead the Kents suddenly have new neighbors on the farm next door. The Kents are also now on the list of suspected royal family of alien empire even though Ma and Pa are definitely human. Somehow the JL absolutely misses Tim and his life partners visiting the alien delegation and none of the C4 is going to actually admit to anything if they can help it. The delegation is also perfectly happy to keep their mouths shut about the identity of their emperor because it amuses their emperor and also admittedly amuses them. The delegates are frequently rotated with other people who fill their various positions, they set up a schedule, so they can return to the empire and compete to maintain their position as imperial caretaker or end up losing their position to someone else or so they can renew their credentials or even just spend time with their families back in the empire.

Fudge. The choas, miscommunication, and both the delegation and C4 being on board with messing with the JL are precious. Essentially, it turns into various members pointing at each other in suspicion. "Are you the hidden royal family?"

In particular, what do Arthur, Diana, J'onn, and Starfire think about all of this?

I'm also glad the delegation decided to rotate the position on earth. It's like a seasonal job.

I wonder how Ma and Pa Kent feel about their new neighbors. Can they even eat pie?

I'm curious what type of systems Tim sets up for the worlds. It's groovy that he's set the worlds up to be essentially self-sufficient. He probably helps them establish connections, rules, trade routes, etc. for interplanetary trade outside of his empire, but otherwise has set up free healthcare, housing for all, welfare systems, etc.

[stinkysam]

Serge "Frenchie" - Can't sleep love.

Warning : nsfw, dry humping, unprotected sex, overstimulation, choking, top!reader, bit of degradation, praise, pre-established consent on everything going on

Genre : smut

Synopsis : You can't sleep and your boyfriend suggests having sex to pass time.

Reader : male (you/yours)

A/N : Reader speaks French as well because I do. // Thought of this while I couldn't sleep. // All translations are at the end. // I'm really not sure about it 😕 there's barely anything for him (this is outrageous) so I can't compare with other people's work so idk if it's good.

Once again you couldn't sleep.

It's been a little more than a year now that you wake up multiple times, every night. You'd just wake up. And fall back asleep after 5 or 10 minutes.

You didn't know why and no medication would work, despite trying quite a few. Whether you were tired or not, going to bed early or late wouldn't change anything. You'd still wake up. Every night.

So here you were at 1am, laying in your shared bed with Frenchie fast asleep by your side. You knew you fell asleep around 11, or so you think, you're not sure anymore after ruminating as much as you were doing now. You kept turning and tossing, it's been longer than usual, making you annoyed, pulling the blankets up then pushing them down. Too hot. Too cold. Too hot. Too co-

“Mon amour ?” You hear. Shit, you woke Frenchie up with your constant movements.

“Yeah ?” You whispered back, turning to face him.

“Ça va ?” He scoots closer, placing a hand on your cheek. Worry evident in his voice. You grab it, kissing his palm.

“Non. Can't fucking sleep.”

“Again ?”

“Comme toutes les nuits.” You chuckled bitterly. “Normally I wouldn't care much, I fall back asleep after 5 minutes but it's been an hour and I'm still not asleep.”

He says nothing, listening.

“I'm so bored, it's pissing me off.” You add with a huff, ready to toss and turn again. A moment of silence falls as Frenchie thinks.

“Wanna fuck ? Pour passer le temps ?” He finally says with a cheeky smile.

You turn your head to look at him again though you can barely see his features in the dark. A moment of silence passes again as you thought.

“It won't work, y'know ?”

“Why not ?”

“I just know it won’t.” You shrugged but continued speaking after a second. “But pour passer le temps ?” You repeated. “Okay, d'accord. Pourquoi pas.” You weren't particularly aroused but at least you would be doing something instead of waiting for the sleep that refused to come. Still, you wasted no time as you climbed on top of Frenchie, capturing his lips in a hungry kiss. He responded with as much energy, his hands slipping quickly under your shirt to touch you everywhere.

You kissed him everywhere on his face, your hands holding his head still as you pushed your knee between his legs, applying pressure on his growing hard on, making him moan lightly before biting his lower lip, earning a hiss as he grabbed you harder, pulling you closer at the same time.

His tongue in your mouth, dancing with yours as you shared more than sloppy kisses, but you didn't let that and his pretty noises distract you from massaging his dick with your knee, feeling it grow harder under your ministrations. Frenchie’s moans grew louder as his boxers felt too tight now, spreading his legs open as he bucked his hips against you to get more friction.

“Eager, are we ?” You said in between kisses. But truth be told, you were as eager as him.

“J'ai juste envie de toi, mon cœur.” He replied, pushing his lips back against yours.

He kept humping your leg, small moans leaving his mouth.

Your thumbs caressed his skin, feeling his light stubble and still fresh cut he got from a fight. Your knee never stopped pushing against his dick and balls, massaging them in a rough manner. The more you did so, the louder he became, not caring if the walls of your place weren't thick enough to contain his moans.

“Putain.” He breathed out several times in between kisses.

You continued like this ‘til he came in his boxers. You didn't give him the time to regain his breath as you pulled his boxers down, jerking his now sensitive cock.

“Attends- Wait ! Mon coeur-” Frenchie hissed, a hand flying over to yours in a weak attempt to stop you, but you gently slapped it. After all, he still hadn't said the safeword. So he closed his eyes for a few seconds, letting you do whatever you wanted to do as small moans began to leave his lips once more.

Your thumb caressed his dick roughly, not letting it go soft as you followed the veins to his balls before your other hand went under, pushing a spit covered finger in his ass. He hissed once more, clenching around your index before relaxing rapidly.

Your own cock was painfully hard in your boxers by now but you didn't mind. You were patient and had other plans. So you continued jerking Frenchie before adding a second finger, making scissor motions.

“You're not allowed to come.” You informed hom, watching him quickly nod through his moans. “Good boy.” You kissed his knee that was resting against you and his cock pulsed at your words.

You tormented him like that for a few minutes, jerking him rapidly then slowly then fast again while your fingers still worked his ass, occasionally tickling his prostate. His moans and gasps were like music to your ears, you wished you could listen to them forever. So you savored them instead.

“Ah ! Putain ! I'm- Can I come ? Please ?” He quickly asked, words rushing out. He really needed to cum.

“No.”

“But mon coeur…”

“I said no, slut.” You smiled devilishly as you knew he would obey, and it didn't miss. He whined but complied, his legs shaking as he tried hard not to close them and not to cum. Eyes shut tightly as more moans spilled from his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You heard him say under his breath, almost like a prayer while his hips moved in an erratic manner to match the pace of your both hands.

Pre-cum was leaking from his tip, coating your hand while your other one continued to finger him.

“You like that, huh ? T'es ma petite pute. Mh, Serge ?”

Frenchie nodded at your words, dick throbbing in your hand, more pre pooling out.

You could tell how much he wanted to cum and how hard he was trying not to with tears in his eyes. You took note of how this time he didn't wipe them, he knew you liked seeing them. You decided to be kind, knowing him, he wouldn't beg for it, not because he's above begging but because he wants to be good and fear you'd say “No.” for the hell of it.

“What a good boy.” You said with a smile, kissing his knee once more. “You can cum.”

And it didn't take long for him to come after your words, a sigh of relief mixed with more moans of pleasure left him as you helped him ride his second orgasm, cum landing on his shirt and lower abdomen. But once more, you didn't let him relax, pulling your fingers out of him to replace them with your aching dick after removing your boxers.

“Putain de- Ah !” He gasped, and you pulled him up, making him bounce on your cock. He wrapped his arms around you for more stability, moaning loudly in your ear as he planted his face in the crook of your neck. There was no way your neighbor didn't know what you two were doing by now, but you didn't care as you continued to plow into your boyfriend. His cock was rubbing against you, smearing pre and come all over you two.

His breathing was loud and erratic as he tried to calm down, without success. So he busied himself by kissing you again, holding you close.

Wanting to change position, but thinking the headboard was far enough you pushed Frenchie down and a ‘bonk’ was heard followed by a quick “Aie !”. He had hit his head against the fucking headboard.

You laughed, rapidly apologizing, kissing his forehead.

“You okay ?” You asked, hands planted by his shoulders as you peppered his face with kisses.

“Mon chéri, you need to do more than that to take me out.” He said with a smirk, though you couldn't see it in the dark you could hear it in his voice.

You snorted, kissing him once more on the lips before pushing yourself back in, soft moans escaping him again.

With one hand you held yourself up above him while the other one went to his throat, squeezing the sides to restrict his blood flow.

“Oh, putain...” He managed to speak, though his voice was a bit hoarse as he began to feel light headed after a few seconds. Each time you would release his neck, Frenchie would gasp for air, eyes half lidded, only for you to start again. You're careful as to not apply pressure on his windpipe, counting each second of when he can and can't breathe.

But while you're cautious with your hand, you're less caring with how hard your dick ram into him. Certainly bruising his prostate with each hit, earning pretty broken moans after pretty broken moan.

“What a good boy you are, huh ?” You said, leaning down, kissing him. He tried to kiss you back but felt too hazy to succeed. “You're doing so good for me.” His cock throbbed with each of your words, clearly enjoying them.

He grabbed your arm, not to pull your hand away from his throat but to warn you he was close to cumming again. Good, you were reaching your limit too.

“You can cum, pretty boy.” This time you made sure to choke him while he reached his climax, cum spilling on his shirt and a bit on you. His ears were ringing when you finally let go of him and his head felt bubbly. You finished quickly after, inside him, but you didn't pull out directly and instead waited to calm down from both your high and his.

Frenchie was panting under you, slowly regaining his breath, chest heaving up and down.

You both groaned when you pulled out and you quickly left the bed to get a cloth and a water bottle. You rapidly cleaned yourself, then Frenchie.

“Merci.” He said, grabbing the bottle before drinking some of it. You watched as Frenchie removed his cum stained shirt and threw it to the side. You did the same and went back to bed, cuddled against him under a thin blanket. You both closed your eyes and after a moment…

“It didn't work. I don't feel sleepy at all.” You sighed. He laughed

“It worked for me !”

“Connard.”

“What ? C'pas ma faute !”

“What ?! It literally is ! We fucked and it woke me up more than ever !”

“Oh, va te faire foutre !” He laughed and placed his chin above your head, holding you close.

“Comment vas ta gorge ? J't'ai fait mal ?” You asked, kissing his neck.

“Non, mon chéri. You didn't hurt me. I told you, you need to do more than that to take me out.”

“Okay. Good. I love you.”

It's not your first time saying these three words yet it always catches Frenchie off guard. After everything that's happened, his past and ex-lovers, he wasn't sure if he deserved these words.

“I- I love you too.” He replied after a little while.

“You don't have to say it back, you know. I know you do.” You kissed his forehead.

“Non, je sais, but I want to.”

“Okay.” You smiled.

While Frenchie fell asleep rather quickly after, arms holding you tightly, you had to wait once more, stuck in his embrace, unable to toss and turn anymore. And of course, it didn't miss, you woke up later that night. And once more at around 5 am without falling back asleep.

Putain de merde.

--

Translations :

Mon amour - My love.

Ça va ? - You okay ?

Non - No.

Comme toutes les nuits - Like every night.

Pour passer le temps - To pass time.

D'accord - Okay / Alright.

Pourquoi pas - Why not.

Putain - Fuck.

J'ai juste envie de toi - I just want you.

Attends - Wait.

T'es ma petite pute - You’re my little whore.

Putain de… - Fucking...

Mon chéri - My dear.

Merci - Thank you.

Connard - Asshole.

C’pas ma faute - It's not my fault.

Va te faire foutre - Go fuck yourself.

Comment vas ta gorge ? - How is your throat ?

J't'ai fait mal ? - Did I hurt you ?

Non, je sais - No, I know.

Putain de merde - Fucking shit.