#I guess with all the feelz

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

hello hi

okaaay so idk if this is discussed before, but i was wondering. if ipk didnt air on star(i so wish it wasnt :') and rather on ott with no restrictions, how many times would asr and khushi ended up kissing(lips no pecks)/making out etc?

Hello hello,

You know IPK benefits from being a slow burn. It's somehow far more electric when they don't kiss, but you can see in their eyes that the lines have crossed in their minds.

OTT actually delivers romance rather poorly cause they're unable to build romance, the feelz, the slow burn.

Also them kissing means they're actively actually taking a step they can't step back from. You can hide the feelings in your eyes - but not behave as if you haven't kissed someone on the lips.

But yeah, given OTT probably would've kissed a hundred times and Arnav would have completed his what the-

Best,

Jalebi

[spookythesillyfella]

You are so real for having a tony wallpaper, in fact I need to do the same thing

uughh so REAL (⁠~⁠_⁠~⁠;⁠) hez just a silly lil guy i dont get why me having him az a pfp on my messaging appz and az my wallpaper and wanting to cosplay him and literally making my entire life revolve around him since like 2020 iz weird at all .... hmm ........

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 3,476 Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Warnings: mentions of past injury, nothing else really! (oh always language I guess? because of who I am as a person haha) Summary: The reader insists on leaving Hilltop and Daryl insists on helping her despite her annoyance. A/N: Guyyyysssss, the dynamic that is growing between these two... #FEELZ #OOF

“I ain’t askin’ ya to stay,” Daryl drawled quietly, walking beside you across the grassy open space in front of the manor. “ ‘M just sayin’—gimme ten minutes to get some supplies together for ya. It’d make all of us feel better.”

“I don’t need your supplies,” you retorted, staring straight ahead. Daryl was annoyingly persistent.

“It ain’t about—” he let out an exasperated sigh. “It ain’t about what ya need. We’re all worried. I know ya think we only care ‘bout findin’ out about them skin freaks from ya, but it’s not just that. Enid is sick over the fact that yer gonna walk outta here against medical advice. And honestly, so am I. How ya gonna even run out there? How ya gonna fight in the shape yer in if ya run into trouble?”

You finally looked at him and his blue eyes were intense. “There are ways around fighting,” you said.

His jaw tensed. “Like livin’ in the damn trees?”

“Walkers don’t look up. And neither do most people.”

He sighed heavily, his hands clenching into fists anxiously and then releasing again. “Ya ain’t even got any arrows left. At least let me get ya some more so ya can protect yerself. I just gotta run over to the armory. It’ll take five minutes.”

You fiddled with the strap of your empty quiver. It was disturbingly light without the usual weight of your ammo. You conceded. “Fine. I’ll be by the gate. Five minutes.”

Daryl looked immensely relieved. “Alrigh’. I’ll be right back.” He strode away hurriedly and you watched until his broad shoulders and the distinctive wing design disappeared around the corner of a building. You stood still for a moment until you could feel the eyes of nearly everyone in sight landing on you and sticking. Your anxiety began to rise and you gulped at the tightness in your throat. Your palms tickled. Your heart thumped.

You cast your gaze upwards and saw Achilles wheeling gracefully overhead, his tail fanned out against the sky revealing the characteristic the wedge shape of ravens. You felt a little calmer with your eyes on him and forced in a long slow breath. Then, you adjusted your pack and headed toward the gate.

You stopped at the wall and leaned against it, ignoring the curious looks from the guards up on the platform as best you could. Despite the mildness of the day, you clutched your cloak around yourself. You waited.

You didn’t have a watch, so you couldn’t say for sure how many minutes it’d been when Daryl came hurrying down the slope toward you. Dog was now at his side and—wait—

You straightened up immediately, your brow furrowing low. “Five minutes so you can grab me supplies?” Your expression was decidedly skeptical.

He shrugged. “I did,” he said, holding out a bundle of arrows.

You snatched them from him, perhaps a bit aggravated. Your narrowed gaze on him was sharp. “Going somewhere?” you said, cocking an eyebrow at him. Daryl had a pack on his back, his crossbow over his shoulder, and was wearing an extra layer he certainly didn’t have on when he went to retrieve the arrows for you.

“Turns out we’re headin’ the same way for a bit,” he drawled, undeterred by the harshness of your gaze.

“You don’t know where I’m heading,” you retorted. Achilles let out a few sharp clicks with his bill and settled down on your shoulder. The rush of air from his wings blew across your cheek. Dog tilted his head and whined, looking up at the bird.

Daryl scratched anxiously at a non-existent itch on the back of his head. “I mean, if ya wanna get technical ‘bout it,” he said.

Your eyes narrowed further. “You’re gonna follow me?” you asked, incredulous. “Seriously?”

He gulped. “If I gotta track ya, I will. S’just for a couple days, so ‘m nearby just in case. Until, ya know, yer a bit less—”

“Less what?” you snapped. “Useless?”

Now his brow furrowed to match yours. “Nah. Hurt. I doubt ya’ve ever been useless.”

Your nostrils flared as you stepped toward him, Achilles fluttering a little to stay perched on your shoulder. “I don’t need your fucking babysitting and the first chance I get, I’m gonna lose you.”

“Ya can try,” Daryl said, determined. He sighed heavily. “ ‘M sorry, okay? I can’t just—just let ya wander off in the shape yer in to get killed by fuckin’ walkers or some of them skins. I owe ya a debt for savin’ me and Dog and—”

You pointed at him, almost shoving your finger into the center of his chest. The color in your cheeks rose. “You don’t owe me a damn thing and I certainly don’t owe you anything either.”

“Tha’s what ya think.”

You let out a frustrated growl and tossed your hands up, pacing away. Achilles took off again with a high whistle and gurgling sound. “Your doctors seem to think they saved my life, so doesn’t that make us even?” He shrugged again. “I guess not to me.”

The muscle in your jaw tensed as you stared at him. He was infuriating. “Just stay the fuck out of my way…”

Daryl ducked your gaze and patted Dog before whistling to the guards above and signaling for them to open the gate.

You stifled a grimace as you adjusted your pack and strode out, with him and Dog on your heels.

It had to be close to thirty minutes before either of you spoke a word. Daryl was walking just slightly behind you now as you moved beneath the canopy of old oaks and pines. You hesitated at a small creek and bent to look at a scraping in the muddy banks, touching the marks with outstretched fingertips, chewing on the inside of your cheek thoughtfully as you examined it.

Daryl knelt down beside you, also studying the sign. “Walker,” he drawled.

You stood and rolled your eyes. “Or Shepherd. They mimic their movements.” You clutched a hand over the wound in your side as you climbed to your feet. Daryl’s fingers alighted softly beneath your elbow for a moment in an attempt to help you to your feet, but you quickly startled away, recoiling and looking at him with surprise. Your eyes were wide and almost fearful.

He stepped back, eyeing you nervously. “Sorry,” he said in a low voice. “I was just tryin’ to help ya—”

“Well, don’t,” you said severely. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

Daryl frowned and a shadow seemed to settle over his eyes as he studied your reaction. “Sorry,” he murmured again. He heard a raven croak overhead and knew Achilles was flying low over the trees.

You sighed, some of the tension leaving you, and shook your head, resuming your previous pace and stepping carefully rock to rock over the stream. Daryl followed while Dog happily splashed through to the other side, stopping and nosing around in the long sedges clinging onto the bank. “Don’t you have better things to do than follow a stranger through the woods? Like interrogating Lydia? Or preparing your community for when Alpha and her assholes show up?”

“I ain’t the leader there. Tara can handle it,” he replied, his eyes flickering over the surrounding woods. He was on edge. He sincerely hoped he could keep you from anything strenuous for a couple days. He had no problem with you being pissed off at him if it kept you from seriously hurting yourself further. He knew he could never forgive himself if something like that happened, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was just the debt he felt he owed, but that didn’t seem to entirely explain it. You were essentially a stranger, but there was something about you… He felt drawn as if by a magnetic pull. Perhaps it was just the strangeness of the life you were living or maybe the mystery you seemed to intentionally wrap around yourself like a quilt, carefully guarding yourself. He felt like he was grasping for any little puzzle piece to help him construct a clearer picture of who you were.

There was a thick silence for a few moments, but when you next spoke your voice was softer, less exasperated. “Lydia—what will happen to her?” you asked suddenly.

Daryl hazarded a careful glance at you as he came to your side. You’d slowed a little to speak to him. He shook his head. “I dunno. That all depends a lot on her, on what happens next with these Whisperers. She may end up stayin’ in that cell a long time. Or, if some things change, she could be one of us,” he said.

“Just like that?” you said. “From one of them to one of you?” Your tone was cynical.

“I ain’t sayin’ it’d be easy or—or simple,” he drawled. “But, yeah. Maybe. She’s just a kid. Like ya said.”

Another sigh escaped you and he caught the slight shake of your head. You started forward again and this time Daryl kept pace beside you instead of lagging slightly behind. “And who was that in the other cell? Your son?” you asked.

Daryl let out a scoff and shook his head. “Nah... But he’s been a royal pain in my ass so far,” he growled.

“So, who is he then?”

“He’s—my best friend’s son. He’s family. ‘M watchin’ after him for a bit while he gets some trainin’ at Hilltop.”

“No, you’re not,” you laughed wryly. “Not anymore you aren’t.”

He shot you a sideways glance, and some part of you was satisfied to see that he looked a touch annoyed. “He’s locked up. What’s he gonna do?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Give away all your community secrets to Lydia? After all, they looked about the same age and he certainly seemed concerned about what I was doing there talking to her. Teenage hormones being what they are—”

Daryl stopped dead and you slowed and turned to look at him. “What?”

His bright blue eyes were narrowed. “I know what yer doin’. It ain’t gonna work.”

“What?” you said again. “I’m not doing anything!”

“Uh huh,” he growled, starting forward again.

You laughed dryly and shrugged. “Seems like I hit a nerve…” you murmured.

Just then there was a burst of noise overhead and you looked up to see Achilles dropping back down through the canopy toward you. He let out a raucous series of caws and hovered a few feet above you, something clutched in his foot. Daryl watched curiously as you extended a hand and the bird dropped something into your palm.

Your expression tightened as you examined it. “Thanks, buddy,” you said to the bird. With your other hand, you dug into a pocket and withdrew some crimson berries you presented to him in your palm. He quickly gulped them down and flew off again, rising gracefully and twisting through the branches overhead with ease.

Dog was prancing anxiously on his front paws, sniffing eagerly at what was in your hand.

“What is that?” Daryl asked, moving closer.

You opened your hand and there was a partially bloody and clearly decomposing ear. “Achilles says there are four of the walking dead nearby,” you said softly. “He looks out for them. And for people.”

“Damn. That’s a pretty fuckin’ good lookout ya’ve got. Wish mine had wings,” he said, grabbing hold of Dog’s collar and holding him back from attempting to eat the ear out of your palm. You tossed it to the ground, however, and he got a hold of it anyway.

You tilted your head to the left. “They’re this way,” you said, starting off in that direction silently, your bow at your side.

“Shouldn’t we be going a different way then?” Daryl asked.

You looked back at him and shook your head. “No. You can if you want. I plan on putting them down.”

Daryl swore under his breath. “Ya’ve got a serious knife wound and ya wanna go lookin’ for a fight?”

“Like I said before, it doesn’t have to be a fight. Just stay quiet and hidden until the right time.” You crouched low and moved through some denser undergrowth despite the way your body ached and every movement tugged at the stitches on your side. Daryl followed, ignoring the sharp teeth of briars poking into his skin and grabbing at his clothes. In less than a minute, the two of you began to hear the familiar shuffling of staggered steps and low growls of the undead wandering toward you.

Daryl sat up on his knees and peered over your shoulder. He could easily see the shapes of them approaching. He waited. He noticed your fingers smoothing over your bowstring. Another moment and you gracefully pulled an arrow from the quiver on your back and moved to nock it onto the string.

When you stood, he stood. Before you could even bend your bow, there was a snap sound and the rush of air past your face as a bolt flew directly past you and buried itself into the center of the forehead. The figured dropped like a lead anchor.

A metallic swish came next and Daryl’s knife tumbled through the air and took out the second one. He stepped slightly in front of you and whistled to Dog, who took off after the third and took it down easily. By then Daryl had another bolt loaded onto his crossbow and he shot the fourth.

You’d hardly gotten an arrow onto your string before the onslaught. He looked back at you over his shoulder and easily read the annoyance painting your features. “Seriously?” you said tersely.

He shrugged and went to collect his knife and bolts. “Ya could rip a stitch again,” he said. Dog stood panting over the bodies.

Achilles let out a hoarse croak and fluttered down to land on your shoulder. You stroked his back and scratched under his chin as you wandered toward the downed undead. “Check for masks,” you said softly, watching as Daryl retrieved and sheathed his knife. His matching one was still at your hip. He’d insisted on you keeping it since yours had been lost in the woods during the fight against Alpha. The fact that he’d split a matching set, obviously religiously maintained, had struck you.

You lifted a foot to kick one of the bodies over and Daryl stopped you. “Whoa, hey!” he barked at you. “Lemme do that. Ya tryin’ to hurt yerself?” he growled. You rolled your eyes but stepped back. He heaved them over, one by one, and checked for masks.

“No Shepherds,” you said as he examined the last one.

“Not here anyway,” Daryl drawled, his blue eyes darting over the surrounding woods. He began patting down the clothing on the bodies, something you often did as well. Sometimes you’d recover ammo or other useful things out of the pockets.

Still slightly annoyed by his interference, you nudged Achilles who flew up off you shoulder. You whistled a single note that started low and then rose to a higher pitch. The raven croaked and descended silently toward Daryl before plucking out a strand of his wavy brown hair and then taking off again.

“Ow! Goddamn!” He jolted to his feet and looked back at you, shocked. “Did’ya tell him to do that?”

You smiled back at him vaguely and held out a hand which Achilles dropped the strand into. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh…” He glared, but couldn’t quite stop the tiniest smile from curving his lips as he shook his head at you.

“Anything good?” you asked, looking back at the bodies.

“Nah,” he said, setting a bolt back into the flight groove of his crossbow. He fixed his blue eyes on you when he straightened up again and they met your gaze and held it. You noticed then just how blue they were and felt an uncharacteristic wash of uncertainty trickle over you. “Ya really ain’t gonna tell me yer name? I mean, I feel like since yer bird just ripped out some of my hair maybe—”

You cut him off by laughing and it surprised both of you. “Alright. That’s fair. It’s Y/N.”

Daryl nodded. “Alrigh’. Y/N.”

Something about hearing him say your name produced an unusual fluttering in the middle of your chest, and you realized your body and you realized how long it’d been since you’d heard anyone speak it. You ducked his eyes and sighed. “Alright. Probably should keep moving,” you said, replacing the arrow still in your hand back in your quiver and moving around Daryl and past the walkers strewn on the forest floor. You sunk your fingers into Dog’s thick fur and gave him a few scratches as you passed him and the Malinois let out a happy noise and began walking at your side.

“Tha’s funny,” Daryl said, starting after you.

“Hmm?”

“Dog usually prefers me over ev’rybody,” he drawled.

You glanced back at him and then down at Dog beside you. “Oh. Sorry. Are your feelings hurt?”

Daryl could hear a slight touch of jest in your voice again. He liked it. It eased his worries over your condition somewhat. “Maybe a little bit,” he said.

There was another minute or so of silence before you broke it again. “I have to ask you,” you began, “what exactly is your plan here?” You were slightly out of breath and paused partially up a steep hill to look back at him. You were sore and your stamina was nowhere near normal. You could tell you wouldn’t be able to go much further that day.

“What plan?” Daryl responded.

“You’re really going to follow me for… days?”

Daryl shrugged. “Somebody should be around. Just in case.”

You sighed, starting at him and shaking your head. “There’s no way I can convince you to just leave and go back to your community?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“I’m fine, Daryl.” “Yeah, well I’ll know that ‘cuz I’mma be around. Yer stubborn, but so am I.”

“Yeah, I’m gathering that,” you breathed. You shut your eyes for a moment and pulled in some deep breaths.

“…Ya okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah…” you said quickly. “Just a little tired. And sore,” you added with a laugh, one hand coming to rest over the bandaged wound on your side.

He nodded. “I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said ya lost a ton of blood. It was—scary…” he drawled. “Ya wanna take a rest?”

You shook your head, your eyes moving over the trees around the two of you. “No. This area isn’t safe.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You shook your head. “It’s just not. But—I don’t think I can go too much farther today and we should be tucked away somewhere before it gets dark. I don’t think I’m climbing anything without a ladder today and we won’t make it to—anyway... I know a place that isn’t much farther that should be safe.”

Daryl was surprised that you had now seemed to accept that he’d be tagging along. You started forward again and he trailed behind you, catching glimpses of Achilles dropping below the canopy every now and again. Dog trotted between you and Daryl now, sniffing here and there and occasionally breaking off to one side or the other. It was almost like a relaxing walk through the woods…

Eventually, you came to a dead stop and Daryl looked over your shoulder to see a small cabin that seemed to have been nearly consumed by the vegetation and wild growth around it. He glanced sideways at you and was startled by how pale you looked.

“Y/N,” he said gently so you’d look at him. “You okay?”

You nodded, but he wasn’t entirely convinced. “This is our stop for the night.”

“Alrigh’. I’ll make sure it’s clear.” He whistled to Dog and this time you didn’t argue. You were exhausted. And part of you was glad to see the wings on Daryl’s back that were becoming almost familiar.

[okasuka]

jason todd x thingy stuff

The rain pattered softly against the windows of your cozy apartment, creating a rhythmic backdrop to the warmth of the room. The place was modest but filled with little touches of you and Jason—a battered leather jacket tossed over the arm of the couch, your favorite mug sitting on the coffee table, and a small collection of mismatched vinyls displayed near the turntable.

You sat cross-legged on the rug near the window, your headphones snug over your ears, completely lost in your own world. The dim glow of your MP3 player screen illuminated your face as Feelz by Lil Peep played softly into your ears, a melancholic anthem that perfectly matched the rainy atmosphere.

Jason leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, his arms crossed as he watched you. He was dressed down—gray sweatpants and a loose hoodie, his messy black hair falling into his piercing blue eyes. There was something about you in these quiet moments that tugged at something deep inside him. Maybe it was how peaceful you looked, or maybe it was the way your little movements—like the soft tap of your fingers against your knee—seemed to mimic the rhythm of whatever you were listening to.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, too caught up in the music. Jason smirked to himself and moved closer, his footsteps silent as he crouched down beside you. He gently reached out, tugging one side of your headphones away from your ear.

“You ignoring me, sweetheart?” His voice was soft, teasing, but there was an edge of vulnerability to it, like he needed your attention more than he wanted to admit.

You blinked, startled, and turned to him, a sheepish smile spreading across your lips. “Didn’t hear you come in,” you admitted, pausing your MP3 player and pulling the headphones off entirely.

Jason sat down beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “What’s got you so zoned out?”

“Music,” you replied simply, handing him one of the headphones. “Here, listen.”

He raised an eyebrow but took the offered headphone, placing it in his ear. The melancholic tones of the song filtered through, and Jason tilted his head, listening.

“Lil Peep?” he guessed after a moment, and you nodded.

“Yeah. It’s Feelz. I don’t know, something about it just… hits different, you know?” You looked down at the MP3 player in your hands, tracing the buttons absentmindedly. “Makes me think of us sometimes.”

Jason’s expression softened. He leaned back on his hands, his gaze flickering between you and the rain-streaked window. “How so?”

You hesitated, your voice quieter now. “It’s like… it’s sad, but it’s beautiful at the same time. Like all the stuff we’ve been through—both of us—but we’re still here, still together. It just feels… real.”

Jason didn’t say anything for a moment, letting the song fill the silence between you. Then, he reached out and laced his fingers with yours, his grip firm but gentle.

“You’re right,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “It is real. And I don’t care how messy or hard it gets. You’re the best thing I’ve got.”

You looked up at him, your heart twisting at the raw sincerity in his words. “Jason…”

He smirked, though it didn’t quite hide the emotion in his eyes. “Don’t get all sappy on me now.”

You laughed softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The two of you sat there, the song playing on repeat as the rain continued to fall. In that moment, the world outside didn’t matter. All that mattered was the quiet comfort of being with each other, the music weaving its way into the fabric of your shared memories, turning even the rainy days into something beautiful.

Jason’s smirk deepened, and he shifted slightly to face you. Still holding one side of your headphones, he quietly sang along to the song, his voice low and teasing:

“Would you fuck me right on the floor? I’m feeling naughty…”

Your eyes widened, and a sudden flush crept up your neck to your cheeks. “Jason!” you hissed, your voice somewhere between scandalized and mortified. You tried to pull your hand away from his, but he held onto it firmly, clearly reveling in your reaction.

“What?” he asked innocently, though the mischievous glint in his eyes betrayed him. “It’s part of the song, babe. You were the one who said it reminds you of us.”

Your face grew hotter, and you buried it in your hands, groaning. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

Jason laughed, a low and warm sound that sent a shiver through you. He reached out and gently tugged your hands away from your face, leaning in so close that you could feel his breath against your skin.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your cheek. “You’re too cute when you’re flustered. I can’t help myself.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your other cheek, his stubble scratching lightly against your skin, and your heart did a somersault. You tried to glare at him, but your attempt was ruined by the way your lips twitched into an unwilling smile.

“You’re impossible,” you mumbled, your voice lacking any real bite.

“And you love it,” he shot back confidently, dropping another kiss onto your temple.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother denying it. Instead, you let yourself relax against him, your earlier embarrassment fading into the background as his warmth surrounded you. Jason slipped the headphones off your head entirely, setting them aside, and pulled you closer until you were tucked against his chest.

The rain continued to fall outside, but inside, with Jason’s arms wrapped securely around you and the faint hum of the song still lingering in the air, everything felt perfect.

After a few minutes of sitting in Jason’s arms, the faint growl of his stomach broke the comfortable silence. You tilted your head up to look at him, smirking.

“Hungry?”

Jason shrugged, though you could see the faintest hint of sheepishness in his expression. “Maybe a little. But I didn’t wanna move, you were too cozy.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and gently nudged his chest as you pulled away. “I’ll make you something.”

Jason reached out as if to stop you, but you were already on your feet. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you interrupted, flashing him a smile as you walked toward the kitchen.

It wasn’t until you opened the fridge that you noticed how quiet Jason had gotten. Normally, he’d make some comment or try to offer help even when he had no idea what he was doing. You glanced over your shoulder, and that’s when you caught him.

Jason was leaning back on his hands, his eyes very obviously trailing down your legs to the hem of your shorts. Or rather, the lack of hem—your sleep shorts were on the shorter side, just barely brushing mid-thigh.

“Jason Todd,” you said sharply, though there was more amusement than annoyance in your tone. “Are you checking me out?”

Jason’s head snapped up, his eyes meeting yours with a flicker of guilt before he quickly recovered. “What? No! I was just—uh—making sure you didn’t trip or something.”

You arched an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Really? From the couch? While staring at my legs?”

Jason rubbed the back of his neck, a faint flush creeping up his cheeks. He looked away, muttering, “You’re imagining things, babe. Don’t flatter yourself.”

You let out a laugh, turning back to the fridge. “Right. Sure. Whatever you say, Mr. Observant.”

“I wasn’t—!” Jason started to protest but cut himself off with a groan, leaning back into the couch in defeat. “Fine, maybe I was. But can you blame me?”

You turned around with a carton of eggs in one hand and a mischievous grin on your face. “Not at all,” you teased. “But you could at least try to be subtle about it.”

Jason threw a pillow in your direction, which you dodged easily, laughing as you set the eggs on the counter. You could still feel his eyes on you, though this time it was more playful than heated.

“Keep staring and I’m making this food extra spicy,” you teased, grabbing a frying pan.

Jason smirked, resting his chin on his hand as he watched you work. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said, the warmth in his voice making your heart flutter.

“And don’t you forget it,” you shot back, your grin widening.

For all his teasing, Jason didn’t look away, and honestly, you didn’t mind one bit.

As you cracked an egg into the sizzling pan, you felt strong arms snake around your waist from behind, pulling you back into a firm, familiar chest.

“Jason,” you laughed softly, glancing over your shoulder. “I’m trying to cook.”

“Don’t care,” he murmured, his voice low and slightly muffled as he buried his face in your hair. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, possessive but gentle, as if he couldn’t stand being away from you even for a few minutes.

You chuckled, stirring the pan with one hand while your other rested over his. “You’re so clingy today. What’s gotten into you?”

Jason didn’t answer right away, just inhaled deeply, his nose brushing against the strands of your hair. “I already miss having you close,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Jason Todd, the Red Hood, big bad vigilante, can’t go five minutes without a hug,” you teased lightly, tilting your head to look at him.

“Say what you want,” he replied, his voice more steady now, though he didn’t lift his head. “I just like being near you.” His lips pressed against the top of your head, lingering there as he tightened his hold on you.

You couldn’t stop the warmth spreading through your chest. “You’re really laying it on thick today,” you teased, though your tone was soft, affectionate.

Jason finally lifted his head slightly, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “It’s because you’re beautiful,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. His voice was low and earnest, and the words sent a shiver down your spine.

You turned off the stove, setting the spatula down as you turned in his arms to face him. His blue eyes were filled with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Where’s all this coming from?” you asked, your hands resting lightly on his chest.

Jason shrugged, his smirk making a brief appearance before fading into something softer. “I guess I just want to make sure you know how much I love you.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you couldn’t help but smile. “You’re such a sap,” you murmured, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

“Only for you,” he replied, tilting his head to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss.

The smell of the cooking food filled the air, but neither of you cared. For that moment, there was nothing else in the world but the two of you, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

You finished plating the eggs and toast, smiling to yourself as you carried the dish over to Jason. He had finally let go of you but followed you to the table like a puppy, pulling out a chair to sit while you set the plate in front of him.

“There,” you said, crossing your arms and giving him a satisfied smile. “Now eat. You’re always complaining about skipping meals.”

Jason glanced at the plate, then up at you with an almost comically guilty look. “I’m… not really that hungry.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, hands on your hips. “You literally just told me you were starving five minutes ago.”

“Yeah, well, I changed my mind,” he said with a shrug, leaning back in his chair like a stubborn child.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Jason Peter Todd,” you said firmly, “you’re eating this. I didn’t just cook for you to not touch it.”

Jason smirked, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand. “What if I said I’d rather just watch you?”

Your cheeks flushed, but you weren’t letting him win this time. Picking up a fork, you stabbed a piece of toast and held it up to his mouth. “Open up,” you commanded.

Jason raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. “Are you serious right now?”

“Dead serious,” you said, inching the fork closer. “If you don’t eat, I’ll keep this up until you do.”

Jason sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he muttered, opening his mouth just enough for you to feed him the bite.

He chewed slowly, his expression deliberately exaggerated as he grimaced. “Ugh, this is awful,” he said, though his lips quirked up as if he were holding back a smile. “How do you even eat this stuff?”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You’re such a liar. I know you love it.”

“Maybe it’s missing something,” he teased, leaning back with a smirk. “Like more salt. Or, I don’t know, pizza.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing another bite with the fork and holding it out again. “You’re going to eat every bite, Jason, whether you like it or not. And don’t even think about running off.”

Jason chuckled, the sound warm and deep, but he leaned forward obediently to take another bite. This time, he couldn’t hide the way his lips curled into a small, satisfied smile as he chewed.

“That’s what I thought,” you said smugly, watching him. “You can’t fool me. I know you love my cooking.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, swallowing the bite. “But I love you more.”

His playful grin softened into something tender, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” you teased, feeding him another bite.

“Worth a shot,” he said, smirking between bites.

By the time the plate was empty, Jason was leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin, and you couldn’t help but feel triumphant. “See? Wasn’t that hard, was it?”

He shrugged, pulling you onto his lap. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t mind being fed like that all the time.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes but leaning into him anyway. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Jason leaned back in the chair, stretching lazily as he let out a dramatic sigh. “I’m bored,” he announced, his voice dragging in a way that was both exasperated and teasing.

You tilted your head, still sitting in his lap, your arms draped casually around his neck. “You’re always bored,” you quipped, smirking. “What do you wanna do now? Watch a movie? Play cards?”

Jason’s lips curved into a devilish grin. “I wanna get drunk.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course you do.”

“I mean it,” he insisted, running his hands down your sides. “C’mon, babe. Let’s have some fun.”

You thought for a moment before shrugging. “Fine, but I think I finished the last can of beer last night.”

Jason froze for a moment, then looked at you with mock offense. “You drank my beer?”

“Relax,” you said, poking his chest. “It was one can, and you weren’t gonna drink it anyway.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed playfully. “That’s it. Get dressed. We’re going out.”

You blinked, surprised by his sudden determination. “Going out where?”

“To a bar, obviously.” Jason stood up, setting you on your feet as he grabbed your hand and started pulling you toward the bedroom.

“Jason, I’m not exactly dressed for that,” you said, gesturing to your oversized T-shirt and shorts.

“Then we’ll fix that,” he said, already rifling through your side of the closet. He pulled out a short black dress you hadn’t worn in a while and tossed it onto the bed. “This. And…” He grabbed one of his old leather jackets, holding it up triumphantly. “This too. Gotta match me.”

You gave him a look, but his eager expression made it impossible to say no. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah, now hurry up,” he said, grinning as he gestured for you to get changed.

With a dramatic sigh, you slipped into the dress and shrugged on the jacket. It was a little oversized, but Jason had a point—it did pair well with his own leather jacket and casual jeans. When you walked out of the bedroom, his gaze lingered on you for a second longer than necessary, his eyes raking over your figure in the dress.

“You look hot,” he said, his grin widening.

“Shut up,” you muttered, tugging the jacket closer around you to hide your blush.

“C’mon,” Jason said, grabbing your hand and practically dragging you out the door.

The bar was lively but not overwhelmingly crowded, and the dim lighting paired with the soft hum of music created the perfect atmosphere. Jason ordered the first round of drinks, sliding you a glass of something fruity while he opted for his usual whiskey.

“To a night of bad decisions,” he said, clinking his glass against yours.

“To your bad influence,” you replied.

The night had been going smoothly, the two of you sharing drinks and laughing together at a table in the corner of the bar. Jason was in his element, his sharp wit and cocky grin keeping you entertained as the whiskey warmed him up.

You were halfway through a second fruity cocktail when Jason excused himself to use the restroom. “Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone,” he teased, ruffling your hair before heading toward the back of the bar.

Rolling your eyes with a fond smile, you sipped your drink and waited, absentmindedly drumming your fingers against the table to the beat of the music. That’s when a stranger slid into Jason’s vacant seat.

“Hey there,” the guy said, his voice smooth but laced with overconfidence. He was tall, with slicked-back hair and a charming smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room. You here alone?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, no. I’m actually—”

“Because someone as gorgeous as you shouldn’t be sitting here all by yourself,” he interrupted, leaning a little closer.

Your eyebrows shot up, and you leaned back slightly, a polite but firm smile on your face. “I’m not alone. My boyfriend’s—”

“Oh, come on,” the guy cut in again, grinning. “I don’t see anyone around. How about I buy you a drink?”

Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“She’s already got one, thanks.”

The guy turned, only to find Jason standing there, his posture loose but his eyes sharp with thinly veiled irritation. He crossed his arms over his chest, his leather jacket creaking slightly as he glared down at the stranger.

“Oh, uh…” The guy hesitated, glancing between you and Jason. “Didn’t realize she was taken.”

“Yeah, well, now you do,” Jason said, his tone calm but unmistakably possessive. He stepped closer, towering over the guy. “So maybe you should move along.”

The guy raised his hands in mock surrender, muttering something under his breath before slipping away.

Once he was gone, Jason slid back into his seat, his jaw still tight as he picked up his drink. “What an idiot,” he muttered, taking a swig.

You couldn’t help but smirk, leaning forward on the table. “What’s wrong, Jason? You jealous?”

His blue eyes flicked up to meet yours, his expression softening slightly as he shrugged. “Maybe,” he admitted, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Not that I need to be. You handled yourself just fine.”

“You’re right, you don’t need to be jealous,” you teased, reaching across the table to tap his hand. “But I gotta say, you being all possessive? Kinda hot.”

Jason’s lips twitched into a grin, his earlier irritation melting away. “Yeah?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as his gaze locked with yours. “Well, maybe I like reminding people that you’re mine.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you rolled your eyes to hide it. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he shot back, his grin widening as he reached across the table to grab your hand.

You laughed, squeezing his hand. “Yeah, I do.”

The night stretched on, and it didn’t take long for Jason to surpass his drinking limit. His laughter was louder, his grin looser, and his movements more uncoordinated. You knew the telltale signs: Jason Todd was drunk drunk.

“Okay, big guy, time to go home,” you said, catching his arm as he swayed slightly.

Jason pouted at you, his glass halfway to his mouth. “But I’m fine! C’mon, babe, one more drink—”

“Nope,” you cut him off, taking the glass from his hand and setting it on the bar. “You’re done for the night.”

He let out a dramatic groan as you helped him to his feet. He was heavy, his tall frame slumping against you as you looped his arm around your shoulders. “Y’know,” he started, his words slurring slightly, “you’re really strong for someone so… small. And sexy. God, you’re sexy.”

You rolled your eyes, dragging him toward the door. “Thanks, Jason. Now keep walking.”

But Jason wasn’t done. As you hauled him through the streets, his rambling only got worse. “Have I told you how pretty you are? Like, stupidly pretty? Like, if I wasn’t already in love with you, I’d fall for you all over again.”

“Uh-huh,” you muttered, your focus on keeping him upright.

“And your legs in that dress—damn. You could knock a guy out with those legs. Lucky it’s me you’re with, ‘cause no one else deserves you.”

You tried to suppress a laugh, shaking your head. “You’re lucky I love you, Jason Todd.”

By the time you got him home, Jason was practically dead weight, leaning heavily on you as you stumbled into the apartment. “Almost there,” you huffed, dragging him toward the couch.

But before you could get him seated, Jason groaned, clutching his stomach.

“Jason, don’t you dare—”

Too late. He doubled over, and, to your dismay, promptly vomited all over himself.

“Goddammit, Jason!” you yelped, stepping back to avoid the mess.

He groaned again, slumping forward. “I don’t feel so good,” he mumbled, his voice small and pathetic.

“No kidding,” you muttered, sighing heavily. “Alright, let’s get you to the bathroom.”

You managed to maneuver him into the tub, his head leaning against the cool porcelain as you stripped off his soiled clothes, muttering under your breath about stubborn boyfriends and their bad decisions. He was barely coherent, his eyes fluttering shut as you cleaned up the mess around him.

About an hour later, you’d scrubbed the apartment clean and returned to check on him. To your surprise , Jason was sitting up in the tub, looking far more alert than he had any right to after the mess he’d made. His eyes were clearer, the usual sharpness returning to his features, though his hair was still sticking out in every direction.

“Hey,” he said, his voice sheepish and low. “Feeling better now.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the bathroom doorframe. “Great. Took you long enough.”

Jason winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh… sorry about that. I didn’t mean to… you know, ruin the night.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t keep the corners of your lips from twitching. “You owe me, Todd. Big time.”

“I know,” he said, his voice a little softer. He glanced down at himself, then back at you with a small, cheeky grin. “So… now that I’m sober, think you could help me out?”

“With what?” you asked, already suspicious.

Jason gestured to himself, completely bare except for the towel you’d thrown over him earlier. “Washing me. I still feel gross, and I could use a little help.”

You raised an eyebrow, biting back a laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said, his grin turning playful. “C’mon, babe. You’ve already seen me at my worst tonight. A little soap and water won’t kill you.”

You sighed dramatically but grabbed the soap and a washcloth from the counter. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, kneeling beside the tub.

“And you love it,” Jason quipped, leaning back in the tub with a smug expression.

As you ran the washcloth over his shoulders, he let out a contented sigh, closing his eyes. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Yeah, I do,” you said, smiling despite yourself.

For all his teasing, Jason was unusually quiet as you continued to clean him up, his expression soft and grateful. When you finished, he caught your wrist, pulling you closer.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” he murmured, his tone sincere.

“Always,” you replied, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead.

Jason smirked again, the playful glint returning to his eyes. “You know, next time we go drinking, I’ll return the favor.”

“Don’t push your luck,” you warned, but you were both laughing now, the night’s chaos already a distant memory.

After Jason was cleaned up and dressed in a fresh pair of boxers, you decided to forgo the rest of the chaos from the night and focus on winding down together. You had slipped into one of his oversized t-shirts and a pair of his boxers, the fabric soft and comfortable.

Jason had thrown himself onto the couch, sprawled out lazily as you grabbed a blanket and a random movie to play in the background. “C’mon, babe,” he said, patting the spot next to him. “Let’s just relax now.”

You settled beside him, curling up with your legs draped over his lap. He instinctively wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. The movie flickered on the screen, but neither of you were paying much attention.

Instead, your fingers found their way to Jason’s face, gently tracing the faint scars on his cheek and jawline. He tensed slightly at first, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“Admiring how beautiful you are,” you replied honestly, pressing a kiss to one of the scars on his cheek.

Jason blinked, his blush deepening as he looked away. “Beautiful, huh? Don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before.”

“Well, they should,” you said, your voice soft but firm. You cupped his face, brushing your thumb along his jawline. “Because you are, Jason. Every part of you—your scars, your smile, your stupid smirk—everything.”

He swallowed hard, his hand tightening slightly on your hip. “You’re really trying to kill me here, aren’t you?”

You laughed softly, leaning in to press another kiss to his nose, then one to his jaw, working your way to his lips. “I’m just telling the truth,” you murmured against his mouth.

Jason kissed you back, slow and tender, as if he wanted to savor every second. When you pulled back, his blue eyes were soft, the usual edge to them replaced by something vulnerable and unguarded.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, you know that?” he said, his voice low and sincere.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The two of you spent the rest of the night tangled together on the couch, exchanging kisses and quiet words as the movie played on in the background. Jason’s blush lingered every time you told him how beautiful he was, but he didn’t pull away, holding you close like you were his entire world.

The soft hum of your music filled the room, a peaceful contrast to the chaotic world outside. You had found your spot on the couch, Jason’s head resting in your lap as he drifted into a peaceful sleep. His breathing was slow, steady, and you couldn’t help but smile down at him as you picked up your MP3 player, pressing the headphones to your ears.

The gentle strumming of Mac DeMarco’s Salad Days began to play, and you hummed along to the familiar tune, the words flowing from your lips in a lazy, easy rhythm. You smiled softly, enjoying the quiet moment—until you felt Jason shift in your lap, his body tensing under your touch.

You stopped singing, looking down at him. His face was contorted in an expression of distress, a slight tremor running through him. The soft, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest quickened, and you immediately knew what was happening.

“Jason?” you murmured, gently brushing his hair back, but he didn’t stir.

His breathing hitched, and in an instant, he shot upright, gasping for air, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His wide eyes were filled with panic, and his hands gripped at the sides of the couch as if he were trying to anchor himself in the present.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you said gently, leaning in to touch his shoulder. You knew it was a nightmare, one of those familiar ones that haunted him. He didn’t even need to speak for you to understand. You’d learned the signs over the months of being together.

Jason’s eyes were still wild as he turned toward you, his body shaking. His chest heaved as he fought to breathe, but the trauma from the nightmare had him in a state of shock.

“I—I don’t… It’s just…” His voice cracked, and the words caught in his throat. His hands trembled as they reached for you, and he buried his face in your shoulder, his body racked with silent sobs.

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. “It’s okay. You’re safe, Jason,” you whispered, your voice calm and soothing. You stroked his back gently, letting him cling to you as he slowly began to calm.

“I… I saw it again,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice muffled against your skin. “It’s always the same…”

You nodded, your fingers weaving into his hair as you kissed the top of his head. “I know, baby. I know.”

His hands were still gripping you, and you could feel the tension in his body slowly begin to ease as you comforted him. “Just breathe, Jason. You’re here. I’m here.”

His breath came in shaky gasps as he nodded, but the tears didn’t stop, falling silently as you continued to rock him gently. “I’m here,” you whispered again, the words becoming a mantra.

After a few minutes, you reached for the MP3 player, pressing it to your ears once more. You knew how music calmed him down, so you began to softly play White Ferrari by Frank Ocean. The soft, haunting melody filled the room, and you started to hum along quietly at first. You didn’t sing loudly—just a quiet, gentle melody that flowed like a lullaby.

Jason’s breathing began to slow in time with the music, his grip on you loosening as his body relaxed once again. You smiled softly, brushing your lips against his temple as you continued to sing along, the song soothing both of you in the silence of the room.

“White Ferrari, had you been there?

I swear I’ve seen you before…”

As you sang, you could feel his breathing becoming deeper, more even. His head shifted back onto your lap, and his body finally went slack as he fell back into a peaceful sleep, the nightmare momentarily forgotten.

You continued to hum the song, the soft melody lulling him into a deeper rest as you held him, protecting him from the world that had so often hurt him.

And as Jason slept peacefully in your arms, you softly whispered, “I love you, Jason. Always.”

Your music was the only sound left in the room, and it was enough to keep both of you safe for the moment, lost in each other’s presence.

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. You were already awake, quietly enjoying the peaceful atmosphere that had settled between you and Jason. He was still lying in your lap, his body stretched out on the couch, his breathing calm and steady, finally free of the nightmare’s grip.

You smiled down at him, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. Slowly, you ran your fingers through his dark hair, gently untangling it. His skin was warm against your touch, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart under your fingertips.

“Jason,” you whispered softly, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Wake up, babe.”

He groaned slightly, blinking a few times as his eyes slowly fluttered open, adjusting to the light. His gaze met yours, and for a moment, he looked completely dazed.

“Morning,” you said with a soft smile, running your fingers through his hair again.

“Mmm…” Jason stretched, the muscles in his shoulders tightening as he yawned. “What time is it?”

“Late enough for you to relax for the day,” you replied, brushing a hand over his chest in a calming motion. “You’ve had a rough night. No patrols today.”

Jason groaned, his brows furrowing slightly. “But I’ve got things to do…” His voice trailed off as he sat up a little, clearly not fully awake.

You gave him a gentle push back down, resting your hand on his chest to keep him there. “No. You’re staying in today. Relax. I already took care of everything.”

Jason looked at you with a raised eyebrow, slightly suspicious. “What do you mean, you ‘took care of everything’?”

“I cleaned your armor and loaded your guns,” you said matter-of-factly. “And I checked the safety. It’s actually on this time,” you added with a teasing smile, remembering the last time he forgot.

Jason huffed, a small, self-conscious smile tugging at his lips. “Okay, okay. I get it. I’ll take a break.”

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Good. Just relax for today.”

He melted into the kiss, his hands reaching up to pull you closer as he deepened it for a brief moment before pulling back. He smiled at you with that same easy grin. “You know, you’re kinda perfect for me, right?”

You rolled your eyes with a fond chuckle, lightly tapping his chest. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Jason let out a small laugh as he propped himself up, leaning against the back of the couch. You stood up and went to the bathroom to grab his hairbrush, returning to sit beside him once more. You took his hand gently, guiding it to rest on his lap as you began to brush his hair with care, working out the tangles from the night.

The feel of your fingers running through his hair made Jason sigh contentedly, his eyes closing as he leaned back, fully allowing himself to relax. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he muttered softly.

“You’re lucky,” you teased, giving him a playful smile as you continued brushing. “But you’re stuck with me now, so deal with it.”

Jason’s lips quirked into a smile, his gaze softening as he watched you. “I’ll gladly deal with it.”

The two of you spent the morning like that—peaceful, quiet, and content in each other’s presence. You made sure he stayed relaxed, and he let himself enjoy the calm, appreciating every moment you shared. As the hours passed, Jason could feel his tension slipping away, and for once, he didn’t have to think about the past, the mission, or the next fight. He had you, and for today, that was all that mattered.

The smell of sizzling eggs and fresh coffee filled the apartment, as you stood at the stove, focused on making breakfast. The warmth of the kitchen was a stark contrast to the cool air outside, and the soft hum of the radio added a touch of comfort to the morning. You had decided to go all out for Jason, making his breakfast in the shape of a heart just to tease him a little.

Jason sat at the kitchen table, his eyes occasionally flicking over to you, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he watched you move around the kitchen. He was clearly enjoying the view, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you.

You couldn’t help but smirk to yourself, pretending not to notice as you carefully flipped the eggs. You knew exactly what he was doing.

After a few more moments of silent admiring, you plated the heart-shaped eggs and slid the plate in front of him. His eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and amusement as he stared at the breakfast in front of him.

“You’re kidding,” he said, his voice low and slightly teasing. “Heart-shaped eggs? You really went all out, huh?”

You leaned on the counter with a grin. “I thought it’d be cute. What do you think?”

Jason chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “I think I’m dating a literal angel.” He picked up his fork, still staring at the heart-shaped eggs with a slight laugh, and took a bite. “You know, this is the best breakfast I’ve had in a while,” he admitted, his voice softened by the affection in his eyes.

You beamed at him, walking over to join him at the table. You leaned across the surface, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

“You’re so cheesy,” you said with a playful roll of your eyes.

Jason laughed, his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “What can I say? You bring out the teenage boy in me. I bet you’d look even nicer right now if I was behind you.”

You froze, realizing the playful, mischievous glint in his eye. Your cheeks immediately flushed, and you leaned back slightly, trying to hide your embarrassment. “Jason…”

He leaned back in his chair, his smile growing wider as he saw the faint blush on your face. “What? I’m just saying, you’ve got that look today.”

“Yeah, I bet,” you muttered, knowing he was being his usual naughty self. But before you could move away, Jason reached over and gently grabbed your chin, turning your face toward him.

You let out a soft, startled laugh as Jason, still grinning, pressed a kiss to your cheek. His lips lingered there for a moment before he pulled away, looking completely smug. “See? I told you.”

In response, you playfully leaned forward and bit his cheek, causing him to yelp with surprise. “Stop being so cheeky,” you teased, your smile wide and mischievous.

Jason grinned, his hand brushing through your hair as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, but the fondness in his voice was clear. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around him. “Good thing, because you’re stuck with me.”

The two of you spent the rest of the morning teasing each other, laughing, and sharing small moments of affection. It was the kind of simple, quiet morning you both needed—no danger, no missions, just the comfort of each other’s company.

[blueboyinthestars]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎

Hello! I'm Hamato Leonardo, the eldest of my brothers!

I am a minor, so i ask you to please not be weird!!!

any pronouns are okay, although recently i've been preferring he/him

Tags!!!

#leorambles

#🍊<3 mikey<3

#zenny<3 zen<3

#💣 <3 raph<3

#elltalks anything by me that was deemed out of character or is something that seems odd for me I guess.

#📋🖥 <3 donnie<3

#💀💣<3 Casey!! IXBSKANA >////<

#🧪👶<3 april<3333

#💙🎵 Music!!!

#❤️💜🐢 @purpleshellhaver

#❤️💥 raphie<33

#LILJELLY!! @purpleshellhaver AGAIN bc I love my Lil bro sm and I also can't take away their matching tag with his twin so he get two!!.

Let me know if either of you two don't want to be tagged!!

#sleepyleo💙 posts made when sleepy!!

MY FAMILY <3

@raphzilla

@antonios-pizza-number1-fan

@smartpurpleturtle

@z3n-ster

@caseyjones2012 MY MANS ILY SM IFNSKABZ

@apriloneill (totally not my favorite rn...)

@jellynardo SO cool but SOOOO british.

@doctordelicate-touch you remind of an orange sweater. Your awesome.

@straighteal my baby bro<33

@blueeedevilll SILLY!?!??!!?

Tello, I already tagged not gonna make them suffer three times!!!

DNI if you support t-cest/pro-shipping, Wilbur Soot, Dream, Melanie, or being a shitty person!! TY<33

I also have an account over on spacehey under the same user that is being set up, and am connected to @blueboyinspace

Banner made by @w1ll0zfak3

(Now some other important stuff)

I'm a sys.?

I now have discord! Not comfortable with dms until I get to know you tho.

I don't entirely understand this all and how i feelz but people's identity change all the time,

[theromanticrationalist]

Catching up on Young Sheldon. . .

I can't believe Young Sheldon is almost over and Sheldon shall be leaving us for good! 😩 I just hope this finale with George's death and us seeing Sheldon and Amy as an "old married couple" will be worth all this pain!! I am hyping myself up for feeling A WHOLE LOT OF FEELZ. I AM NOT READY.

I was already getting pretty emotional in the A Fancy Article and A Scholarship for a Baby episode. Firstly my heart was aching for my poor baby who was under so much stress to choose which school he would be attending! I was feeling his distress at feeling pressure from all sides (especially since in retrospect we know the decision was genuinely a major life crossroads for him), and I was hating how everyone was manipulating him! It always upsets me a lot when people take advantage of Sheldon because of his naiveté or how his idiosyncrasies make him an easy target. I can definitely relate to some of that, having a similar naiveté as Sheldon and inability to read social behaviors, particularly of those closest to me (weirdly). I think I have gotten better, but mainly I feel like I've just gotten more insecure and socially awkward, but oh well. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

At any rate, I get so upset seeing Sheldon having to struggle with things in a way most people do not and having literally no one understand or acknowledge what he is going through. It might not be scenarios that seem important or vexing for others, but they genuinely and sincerely are for Sheldon, and that is valid. So many people think Sheldon is egotistical, and he definitely can be self-focused and arrogant many times, but come on! This boy is his only advocate! "Well, no one cares that you care," Missy said to Sheldon in episode 10. "I'm someone. And I care that I care. And I care that I care that I care!" To me pretty much sums him up perfectly! Sheldon isn't egotistical, he just knows how to self-advocate (which is actually very difficult for a lot of people) in a world that is difficult for him to navigate! Anyway, thankfully though, my heart was warmed by Dr. Linkletter and Sturgis finally coming around, turning against the awful and shameless President Hagemeyer, and doing right by our Sheldon. Dr. Linkletter loves the annoying little string bean after all! (Like anyone seriously couldn't!) I was very moved by their encouragement of Sheldon, that he had outgrown them, surpassed them, and was going to do great things in theoretical physics and advance science in ways that they never could! It was very touching. My little baby bean is all grown up, and off to destroy maths! 😭 But of course. . . that reveal of Sheldon choosing MIT! 😂😂😂 OMG! That was TOO PERFECT. I was DYING. I absolutely LOVED that twist! Sheldon Cooper is such a stink'in brat! This WHOLE time he was giving Howard (and others) a hard time about MIT, acting like it was a crap institution and that every other university is so far above it - and the only reason he himself did not go there was because of the weather! It was literally HIS FIRST CHOICE. OMG SHELDON LEE COOPER!! 🤣🤣🤣 And I loved how Sheldon Prime was just like "Wait for it. . ." like it was all self-evident his being justified in dissing MIT in the end. It is SO ON BRAND for Sheldon I couldn't take it! Probably the best story twist of this season!

It also made me want to scream because of George travelling with Sheldon to see him off on this new life adventure, and saying how proud he was of him. It is a beautiful parallel to earlier in Season 3 when George took Sheldon to visit Caltech to listen to a lecture by Stephen Hawking, and saying he believed Sheldon would fit right in there. To know that this is probably going to be the last moment that Sheldon and his father have together, and how fitting it should be his father to be the one to see him off, makes me just want to sob my heart out! UUUUUUUUUGH. 😭😭😭 Sheldon and his daddy! THIS ISN'T FAIR!! 😫😫😫😩😩😩💔💔💔 Final random thoughts: - I guess Sturgis and Connie aren't going to get back together. I'm really bummed about that. They were so perfect! No offense to Dale, but Sturgis is kind of the best. IT SHOULD BE STURGIS AND CECE HAVING CUTE GRANDPA AND GRAND BABY MOMENTS TOGETHER! - I go back and forth between being excited for the Georgie and Mandy's first marriage show, to being absolutely devastated that not only will Sheldon not be in it but neither will Missy! - to thinking it might actually be pretty cute. Ugh. I guess I will watch it, but I really don't know how they are going to make a whole show on the concept. I guess we will see! - I am noticing that Sheldon's "brain itch" and focus on organizing and optimizing spaces is developing right when the most change is happening in his family and within himself (puberty). Of course he was always this way, but he didn't used to care about the state of things outside of his own room or his own bubble, e.g. school/dorm/his computer. Now he is trying to order things beyond his immediate needs, and I think that is interesting! These are coping mechanisms and ways he can make himself feel secure and in control. Once again no one around him is taking note of this!!

Look at him! Look at this baby becoming a lawyer in 24 hours to help out his MeeMaw! My heart genuinely broke when Sheldon looked at his MeeMaw with the purest, most guileless, baby kitten eyes saying he didn't want to see her go to jail. DUDE. If I were Connie, I would shape up right then and there!

My Favorite Sheldon Cooper Quotes: Sheldon: "I finished organizing the religious items! I separated them by New Testament hokum, Old Testament hokum, and general nonsense!" Mary: "Also Sheldon couldn't sleep knowing that the room was only half-organized." Sheldon: "It's true! It was like my brain was itchy and I couldn't scratch it! Very irritating!" Mary: "It was. Very." Connie: "Well, I thank you both, but I should be doing this myself." Mary: "Yes, you should, but we are already here." Sheldon: "Great! I'm going to start with the books! I invented my own Dewey Decimal System, but instead of decimals I use fractions!" (The utter pure joy Sheldon gets from organizing things and inventing his own ways of doing it is the most precious thing. Be your truest self, baby!!" Sheldon Prime: "I'm not proud of this, but that night I relieved myself in Billy Spark's chicken coop. Until my wife, those hens were the only females I exposed myself to. . .I guess I could have left that part out. Oh well." (Me screaming and hollering and throwing popcorn at my screen!!)

[onthewaytosomewhere]

WIP Word Search

alright so I think I did this some time in the last couple weeks but these words had me curious so - why not - right?!

thanks for the tag @kiwiana-writes (all of your words made me so darn excited for what you have coming)

i didn't think i was honestly gonna have any of them but i had some bits for 2 of them and 2 of these were definitely written sometime in the last like 48 hours so guess it was like fate lol - my words this time were: land, answer, spare, funeral, value -

land: from - hockey player alex bookstore owner henry just need to fuck it out maybe i dunno

He must have missed the end of the conversation because he’s brought out of his moment of self-contemplation by Bea’s hand landing on his arm, “I’ll let you get back to what you were doing, Hen,” Before he can respond, she is already scurrying off back to the office, sending Henry a quick wink that he almost missed.

answer: from Alex side of college au

He decides to answer honestly, “I’m not sure, but I hope so. I just hafta get past the point where I’m afraid to say anything for fear of screwing up whatever friendship we have going now.”

and 2 from obligatory college au - henry! - alex has feelz wake da f up (these are from 2 of my fave pieces of dialogue from this fic - so far at least)

“The cart before the horse? You are such a dork. It is so damn adorable. To answer your question, maybe it’s more about breaking the tension that has been around for so long that it probably has its own zip code now. A zip code is – “

&

Henry smiles at the memory of those kisses, “I’m not answering that a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

spare: nope - not at this point

funeral: nowhere to be found

value: nada, nada, limonada

i've seen this floating aroud so much I'm not even sure who hasn't done this anymore so open tag to anyone who hasn't or just maybe wants to again (lol)

words for ya: what, love, this, maybe

[spartanguard]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by my bestiest @optomisticgirl <3

how many works do you have on ao3?

55

what's your total ao3 word count?

647,844

what fandoms do you write for?

Just Once Upon a Time (although, technically, I have written one that incorporated enough of The Picture of Dorian Gray that it's listed in my fandoms)

what are your top five fics by kudos?

Something In The Water, Sick of Love, A Tall Tail, A Rose in the Deeps of my Heart, and To Trust Someone Else [kind of bummed that my fave got bumped out of my top 5!]

do you respond to comments? why or why not?

Not on AO3, because I'm weird and like to keep that comment count representative of actual comments. But I try to on tumblr to make sure people know I've seen and appreciate their response!

what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I guess it depends on definition of angsty...I've definitely had some dramatic scenes close to the end (especially Sons of Love and Death and Even Death Won't Part Us Now), but I can't NOT have a happy ending. I guess the end of (Love Will See Us Through These) Dark Days is pretty bittersweet...but it's inspired by The Hunger Games so that was inevitable ;)

what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Just about everything, haha. I love having lots of drama along the way, but if it doesn't have a happy end, what's the point?

do you get hate on fics?

Only once; someone got mad because I included KnightRook in We Cannot Choose Our Fate rather than a CS baby. They apparently forgot the 'back' button on their browser was a thing.

do you write smut? if so, what kind?

Hell yeah. The more magic, the better. (also: the wetter, the better. put them together and you get mermaid smut. yes.) But mainly, I just like to do really feelz-y stuff.

do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written?

Not really, but not because I don't like them or anything--I've just never really been inspired to (although there's an idea in the back of my mind involving a Community/OUAT crossover).

have you ever had a fic stolen?

thankfully, no. That crosses all kinds of lines.

have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I'm aware of.

have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not in the traditional sense, but I've definitely borrowed from some of thesschesthair's stream of consciousness before (particularly for Savage Garden.)

what's your all-time favourite ship?

Captain Swan, easily.

what's the wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

As far as things I started publishing...Untitled Monster Loving Fic is probably the only one. I have an idea for how I want it to go, but I kept getting stuck rewriting Killian's backstory so it's just been chilling.

what are your writing strengths?

Hmmm...Dialogue, maybe? That's at least what comes to me easiest. I've been told my worldbuilding is good but it could be better.

what are your writing weaknesses?

Probably descriptions. I can see things vividly in my head but that doesn't always make its way to the page (or, on the other side of that, I sometimes worry I'm too thorough in that regard and the details bog down the flow).

thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for fic?

Only if it's a language you're at least conversational in. Otherwise, be prepared to be called out by a native speaker.

first fandom you wrote for?

I want to say I started a Sabrina, the Teenage Witch story when I was a kid, but never finished it. OUAT is the first one I've ever published anything for.

favourite fic you've ever written?

Either Savage Garden or Sons of Love and Death. But I've put a lot of me into all my stories so it's hard to pick!

tagging: everyone that B tagged, @cocohook38, @kmomof4, and whoever wants to do this!

[ofieugogyshz]

😜🏅☀️ for the fanfic ask game <3

😜 Describe a current WIP without using character names. (Points if your followers guess who the fic is for.)

hold up i have to have wips that aren't about me and lance for this to work here-- for some reason my dumb ass went "ah, yes, a selfship- specific meme" and didn't fucking READ the preface right.

(i mean, i do have some, but almost no one here would know the original context. almost. ) (as in, they aren't selfship related fics)

🏅 What is the fic you’re most proud of?

so many but i think this one comes to mind most easily bc it was one that i spent literal days on and had the most help with @mochavaporeon , for both shenanigans and editing. (also it was a snowball. a really BIG snowball)

ALSO, it was the longest thing i had ever written for one story, so it has that achievement on top of it.

☀️ Has anyone ever left you a comment that made your day? What did it say?

anytime someone has Teh Feelz during their liveblog reaction of my fics. i absolutely live off your their that pain. my favorite was this one person who got to read all my qb fics, and you could basically FEEL them writhing in their feelz over the shit she did in fics. fucking. 👌 delicious shit. chef's kiss. (i do not recall their url offhand and i haven't been able to talk to them in literally or almost a decade? :( )

[alternia-confessions]

lmao? okay ii guezz ii can zpiill. the guy gettiing all the zhiiz done iiz a lowblood whiich iiz rlly funny to me. doiin hiighly iillegal treazon ztuff whiile beiing liike one angry viiolet from beiing culled at all tiimez. iitz liike a power thiing. pumpiin iillegal hiighbloodz iinto iimzelf to feel ztronger. zaiid he wanted to iignore the cazte zyztem and rule hiimzelf. ziigh. iif only ii could report thiiz guy wiithout gettiing otherz iin trouble. the zciientiizt behiind thiiz iiz a geniiuz who dezervez to further theiir ztudiiez. worzt part iiz that ii would be culled liike eiight tiimez over becauze ii helped them iin such a way that the world blazphemy can’t even cover. even wiith all the blood criimez iid be the mozt fucked. not even wiilliing to detaiil iit wiith all my cyber zecuriity becauze iitz that fuckiin bad. unlezz ii got liike a phone not made by a Troll and chiilled iin zpace to zubmiit iit maybe.

lmao iit all feelz zo comiical of courze iim The dramatiic hiighblood makiing thiiz about me. anywayz lowblood iillegal blood miixiing criimez okay? thaz juzt an affront agaiinzt nature. ii

um

ok briiefly iithought iiwaz piitch for them becauze of that but iitwaz baziic moraliity they triied to pazz off az me beiing a cazteiizt azzhole. ii get iit man The cazte diiferencez and all but YOUR BLOOD MAN YOU DONT RUIIN IIT LIIKE THAT OH MY GOG II DONT CARE THAT YOURE A LOWBLOOD THATZ YOUR NATURAL HATCHED BLOOD BROTHER THE MEZZIAHZ DONT WANT NO FAKE ZHIIT PLEAZE JUZT LET IIT BE II KNOW THIIZ ZYZTEM IIZ FUCKED BUT PLAYIIN IIN IITZ FAVOR WONT FIIX IIT. YOURE JUZT A WIIGGLER PLEAZE

zorry lol anywayz uhhh niice weather huh

•

Question: lmao? okay i guess i can spill. the guy getting all the shit done is a lowblood which is rlly funny to me. doing highly illegal treason stuff while being like one angry violet from being culled at all times. its like a power thing. pumping illegal highbloods into himself to feel stronger. said he wanted to ignore the caste system and rule himself. sigh. if only i could report this guy without getting others in trouble. the scientist behind this is a genius who deserves to further their studies. worst part is that i would be culled like eight times over because i helped them in such a way that the world blasphemy can’t even cover. even with all the blood crimes id be the most fucked. not even willing to detail it with all my cyber security because its that fucking bad. unless i got like a phone not made by a Troll and chilled in space to submit it maybe.

lmao it all feels so comical of course im The dramatic highblood making thiz about me. anyways lowblood illegal blood mixing crimes okay? thats just an affront against nature. i

um

ok briefly i thought i was pitch for them becaue of that but it was basic morality they tried to pass off as me being a casteist asshole. i get it man The caste differences and all but YOUR BLOOD MAN YOU DONT RUIN IT LIKE THAT OH MY GOG I DONT CARE THAT YOURE A LOWBLOOD THATS YOUR NATURAL HATCHED BLOOD BROTHER THE MESSIAHS DONT WANT NO FAKE SHIT PLEASE JUST LET IT BE I KNOW THIS SYSTEM IS FUCKED BUT PLAYING IN ITS FAVOR WONT FIX IT. YOURE JUST A WIGGLER PLEASE

sorry lol anyways uhhh nice weather huh

[ask-the-shorty-squad]

I bet Teru is all like "This the best you got? Wow you've really run outta ideas" ...

Hehehe hahaha!! Oh just wait until 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 secret, Teruteru! It's oh so delicious! And no its not that you ate your Mama..!! They all know that already!! Hehehahahaha!!!!

Oh, and if you Fail to guess correctly.. And I'll 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 when you fail. I'll kill the person who has that secret!!

Hurry hurry!! Choose choose choose!!!! Whos it gonna be?? Whos it gonna be??

"Someone here has an Admiration for Yayoi" and it isnt Kiyo..

Ah!! Maybe its Nagito!!!

I doubt its me. I do Admire Yayoi. But everyone already knows that.

I think it's a trick question. Yayoi is Loveable definitely. But Admireable.. Only Kiyo and Nagito would Admire him..

No hard feelz Yaoii! I dont mean it in a bad way!!

...This is quite troublesome.. Perhaps I came back at a wrong time..

I'm so confused. Who else would have an admiration for me?

[william-afton-positivity]

Bc like-

[sindumpster]

Hey brain,

I know you like getting your jollies from being a spiteful and petty asshole and love dragging me along for the ride but I’d really like to draw some vore rn so if you don’t mind shutting the fuck up for the next 3-6 hours that would be lovely, thanks~

[shannaraisles]

In Marcher Fields - Chapter 16

Poppy Hawke was never the daughter her mother wanted, the sister her twin preferred, the hero Kirkwall desired. They do not see the woman who stands between them and the chaos that threatens. No one takes the time to look, until she crosses the path of a certain Knight-Captain with demons of his own to battle …

[Read on AO3]

9:41 Dragon, Late Kingsway

"Head's up, Curly, little Hawke's on a mission."

Cullen looked up from his desk, raising a brow at Varric's unusual greeting. Little Hawke ... damn, that brother of hers. He sighed, leaning his weight onto one hand against the cluttered surface in front of him.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew where she was?"

Varric actually seemed surprised by the question. And why shouldn't he be? The frustrated lover would have cornered him within a day of knowing he had sent word to Poppy of their predicament. The concerned commander should have demanded answers shortly after she'd arrived. But this man, this version of Cullen Rutherford, seemed entirely new to him, an unsuspected weariness and pain that had taken weeks to come to light. The dwarf shrugged.

"She asked me not to," he said simply. "Hawke's my friend. Before all this, you were just a suit of armor she stuck to when she needed you. After that changed, well ... it didn't seem right to open old wounds."

Cullen sighed, nodding slowly. "Thank you." He tapped his fingers on the desk. "I don't agree, but I appreciate your reasoning. Where is she now?"

Varric looked awkward for a moment. "Went straight on to the Approach with the Warden," he said swiftly. "Alex is picking up supplies here before he heads out to meet them ahead of Xena."

"She didn't come back with him?"

Cullen felt that like an icy pick in his heart. Was she avoiding him? Was his presence so abhorrent to her now that even being in the same fortress was a torture she could not tolerate? Was he the greatest mistake of her lifetime, a mistake she could not even pretend to be friendly with?

"You know Poppy," Varric was saying. "Duty first, even if it hurts. Kind of like you these days."

The knowing look in the dwarf's eyes was deeply irritating, urging a scowl to make itself known on Cullen's face. He straightened, raising a hand to point at the rogue.

"Don't even think about it, dwarf," he warned. "I do not need your input into my personal life."

"Yeah, you need it about as much as Bianca needs a sheath," was Varric's response, rolling his eyes at the scolding tone. "Look, the Seeker's right. Inquisition needs Hawke - not as a leader, but she's a force in the world whether she likes it or not. I'm thinking you need to sort out what the problem is here."

"There is no problem," Cullen said from between gritted teeth. The last thing he needed was to be lectured by a storyteller who had woven the tragedy of Poppy's life in Kirkwall into a bestselling novel that had lined his own pockets with pure gold. She was so much more than the hero described in those pages, that two-dimensional parody of the woman he loved and who now no longer wanted to be near him.

"She hurts. She thinks and remembers and it hurts so much to think that memory will never be repeated for her. Elderflower and oakmoss, leather and metal, the rough tug of curls through her fingers; peace and safety in his arms, a place to be herself and no one else, the warmth of being loved for no other reason. He doesn't want me here. He's moved on and I am all alone."

Cullen frowned, dragging his eyes from Varric to stare at Cole. The boy wasn't supposed to come into his office - he'd already spoken to Xena about making sure the boy stayed out. There was too much in his heart and mind that he did not want spoken aloud. But ... that hadn't been his heart or mind, had it? Was Cole reading Poppy for him, even from so far away?

"She never said goodbye," the boy said quietly. "She never stopped loving."

"She -" Cullen stopped himself. No, she never did say goodbye, did she? His heart flared with an old familiar pain, the pain of her absence all the more acute because she could have been here if she had wished it. He shook his head, clearing his throat. "Thank you, Cole. But ... no more, please."

"I want to help," Cole murmured, wandering over to stand near Varric. "Why won't they let me help?"

Varric smiled ruefully. "Some things people have to work out for themselves, kid," he told the spirit-boy. "Let it go, all right? This isn't something you can fix."

"He worries and frets and never lets her see it," the boy said then. "Years and years of watching and worrying. He wants to fix it, too."

"Then maybe he should be allowed to try," Varric told him gently, seeming to understand who Cole was talking about. "We probably shouldn't be here when he does."

"He's here."

Cullen looked up sharply. He'd been trying to ignore their presence, but that had a slightly ominous feel to it. Cole's eyes had turned toward the southern door of the office ... Which opened to admit Alex Hawke, stern-faced and pinched from the cold of the mountain air.

"Interrupting, am I?" Poppy's twin asked diffidently.

I really need to keep some of these doors locked, Cullen grumbled in the privacy of his own mind, straightening from his lean as Varric grinned and ambled out through a different door with Cole in tow, leaving him to the tender mercies of his former lover's brother. The brother who had scarred his face just for thinking about loving her, and never truly approved of the liaison in the first place. Not to mention the brother who had torn her apart in more ways than one over the years, in not tracking her down sooner, in reveling in their mother's limited affection, in blaming her for the deaths of their family. No, there was far more to dislike about Alex Hawke than could ever be negated by his few finer points.

"Apparently not," he said, rather proud of himself for not instantly moving from irritated to angry just at the sight of the man. "What do you want, Hawke?"

"Actually, I want you," Alex informed him, moving toward the desk. "Specifically, to stop being a bloody gentleman and shag Poppy until she's happy again. Think you can manage that?"

Cullen actually felt his mouth drop open. "Excuse me?"

"Right, now I have your attention ..."

Alex drew himself up, broad shoulders tense for a moment, and Cullen braced himself for the punch he was pretty sure was coming. But Alex let out a low sigh, and his expression changed. The stern arrogance faded, leaving behind the face of a man who had seen and experienced too much, who could not change the course of the world for so many millions of strangers, but could change it for the one person in this world he loved above all others.

"She loves you," he said simply, holding up a hand as Cullen's mouth opened to object. "No, just ... just listen. She tore herself apart, leaving Kirkwall. She cried every night for two months. She says your name in her sleep. When we ran, she stopped living. In the last two weeks, I have seen my sister again for the first time in four years - I've seen her laugh, I've seen her close to tears, I've seen her connecting with people the way she used to. Now you could say it's because of Varric, but that's not the truth. She's never been without Varric, not really. Letters are enough to keep a person alive in your heart and mind. Poppy's alive again because of you, and if you don't pull your head out of your arse and convince her she's what you want, I really will break your head."

"If she -"

Again, Alex's hand rose to cut him off. "She's not here right now because one of us had to go with Alistair, and I wanted to be the one who stopped in Skyhold," he said firmly. "Because I wanted to have this conversation with you. We've never liked each other, and I doubt we're going to start now. She needs you, Cullen."

"She never lost me." It took a moment to realize he had said that aloud. Cullen shook his head wearily. "I don't know how to set aside four years of distance, Alex. I want to ... Maker's breath, I never want to be apart from her again. But we have both changed in that time, grown, altered. How can you be so sure that she would thrive if I were back in her life?"

"Because you love her."

That was it. That was the entirety of Alex Hawke's argument. No waxing poetic about what Cullen could bring to his sister's life, or what she could bring to his. Just the truth as he saw it, plain and simple. A truth that was, amazingly, absolutely spot on without needing any fabricated detail.

Cullen sighed, wishing he had a solid chair in his office. He was feeling the definite need to sit down, the complexities of the situation weighing heavily on him.

"I do," he admitted quietly. "I never stopped loving her. But why would you tell me this?"

The silence in the tower seemed to grow oppressive as Alex glanced away.

"The world is changing," he said eventually. "We came out of Kirkwall without close loss, after losing so much while we were there. By rights, one of us should have died in that fight at the Gallows, but neither one of us did. But this fight that's looming ... it feels final. Poppy's given everything, time and time again, for complete strangers, people who only know her as a symbol or a character in a book. And the world needs her. But if she's going to keep going, she needs someone who will love her, care for her, be her calm in the storm. The time is coming when she'll have to make a decision, and I do not intend to let her make it. I need to know you'll be there to hold her together and get her through, because I don't think I'll be walking away from that decision."

Cullen held his gaze for a long moment. He couldn't argue, not really. He, too, could feel the tug of events, recognize that they were walking a very dark path. He knew as well as Alex did that friends would be lost along the way. The thought of Poppy becoming a casualty of this conflict, when she had survived so long and endured so much ... it was a physical pain that throbbed at the center of his being. The thought of her having to endure the loss of her brother without someone to be her shelter from the storm stung. He had been that shelter, more than once. He knew her at her most vulnerable, at her most hurt. He knew her. And despite all the worries in his mind, the doubts and insecurities, he knew she still loved him, just as he still loved her.

Alex was right - the world needed Poppy Hawke. Cullen needed Poppy Hawke. But Poppy Hawke needed to be loved, cared for, looked after. She needed someone who loved Poppy above all else. And just maybe that someone was him.

"Don't throw your life away," he said quietly, almost smiling at the shocked glance Alex shot his way. "We may never be friends, Alex, but Poppy loves you. Losing you would tear her apart."

"But you can put her back together again," Alex pointed out. "You've done it before. I've seen it, don't forget. I need your promise, Cullen. I need to know you're going to close the rift between the two of you sooner rather than later."

"I can't make any promises on her behalf." Cullen sighed, tilting his head back for just a moment before returning his gaze to Alex. "If she'll have me, I will never leave her side again."

Alex considered him for what seemed a long time, slowly nodding in solemn agreement. He held out his hand, which Cullen took with a relieved nod of his own.

"The usual conditions apply," Alex commented. "Pain and anguish if you hurt her, all that nonsense."

"Noted."

Alex pulled back, still nodding absently before he pulled himself together. "Right. Well ... things to do."

He left by the door he had entered through, letting it fall back more quietly than it often did, leaving Cullen with his thoughts.

Poppy.

She wasn't avoiding him. She would have been here if Alex had not insisted on it being otherwise. She was walking into danger yet again for the benefit of thousands who would never know her for the woman she was. The good woman who tore herself apart in a dozen small ways just to make the world a better place. The woman who had found her way into his heart and stitched herself there so tightly not even he knew where he began and she ended. He couldn't deny it now, even if he had wanted to. Cole had confirmed it; Alex was certain. Poppy still loved him. Poppy still needed him.

And this time, he wasn't going to let anything get in the way.

[redezign-yr-logo]

Of course id care.

this shit feelz liek those thingz on Instagram thatz liek.. "Share if you care about [sensitive topic] [i can c who skipz >:[ ]" like of course id care. This isn't helping anyone and seemz made 2 just get a bunch of notez.

theyre so in yr face n this caught me very off gaurd. Itz fucking terrifying 2 just randomly see this, specifically the big and uppercase letterz with absolutely no warning.

You're not a bad person if you don't share this if it makez u overwhelmed or uncomfortable, but this post guilt tripz u in2 thinking u r [i.e. saying u could save a life in all capz n telling u 2 share no matter what, impling if u didn't share, yr a horrible person whoz 'just okay with suicide and people dying', when ofc you aren't, you don't need to reblog a dumb post for that to be true.]

i very much doubt any post like this has saved many [if any] peoplez livez.

i also doubt ive explained this well but i wanted to at least say this much. Guilt tripping people like this isn't okay. Using sensitive topicz liek this iz not okay.

Sure, it could b a genuine post i guess, but it just feelz emotionally manipulative and gross to me. Itz liek those scary copypastaz.

if you actually care, share some resources that help someone whoz in a suicidal situation.

[tales-from-nocturnaliss]

A post about... autism

With the rise of the pornbot wave, I considered closing down my Tumblr. After all, I don't use it, except to stalk artists who create amazing BotW fanarts, and I can't seem to connect to any other writers, somehow.

I wondered just now if I could possibly have a use for it after all. I like for all of my socials to have a reason to exist; for example, my fb page is about writing and I post writing-related memes; pillowfort, I write about a whole slew of topics and it's become my homebase. Tumblr... is Tumblr. From my end of its world, I feel like it's a sterile place without community.

And then, I dunno, it feels like a lightbulb went off in my head:

Hey, what if I use my Tumblr to actually talk about something discovered recently about myself that, maybe, could help other people while helping me to connect to people like me?

What if I use this Tumblr to talk about autism?

I was diagnosed a couple of weeks ago, after a couple of years of grueling search due to a severe decline in health. In short: no one found anything wrong with me. Until I talked to a close friend about autism, with her thinking she had it. The ball rolled real fast in my head. From these first inner whispers round August to testing in November, January brought a conclusion: yep, I am in fact autistic.

I'm apparently the unusual sort (according to my results, at least!) who has real high executive and cognitive functions and a deep understanding of emotions - because, hey, I made it my obsession. That and writing tragedy and death. I live for the feels.

Slowly, I'm absorbing this fact as part of my identity, without making it the whole of it (I hate when people do that, with anything). Coming to terms with the fact it explains the little things that my brain can't cope with - putting my hands on dirty dishes, dealing with sharp, sudden noises, complex gender identities (to name but these!) - while also telling myself: sure, autism explains, but you're not your autism. I'm still an adorable trilingual Belgian writer of 42 who breathes Dark fantasy and writes feelz. That, is me.

But I do notice, more and more, how the people I best connect with... are fellow creative autists/neurodivergents. There's just a mutual understanding that exists by default and doesn't demand nor require explanation. It feels... relaxing.

And so, here's one more voice on the spectrum! I have no idea how much I'll use Tumblr from here on out, but hey. I'm not worrying about that right now. Not when a friend of mine passed away to cancer last week and, this week, another one tried to slash open his arm.

Did I mention I write openly and honestly about basically every type of topic? I guess I don't need to tell fellow autists. You know how it feels like to just... (over)share.

Now, I need to go back to my actual writings. But this felt good to write. Bottle to the sea!