#because I really am quite lucky in that the people I know who have died have mostly been old

[cartierre]

LE PETIT PRINCE | ms47

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU mick schumacher x fem!reader

side note: i'm so sorry the plot here is kind of non-existent and it's literally just mick being boyfriend of the month but the request has been sitting in my inbox for quite some time and i felt obligated to finally finish it because i felt bad for taking so long.

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tagged: mickschumacher

yourusername mick keeps buying me french books and says "i can teach you french" but really he just wants to spend more time with me by translating them to me

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user1 get yourself someone like mick who keeps buying you books ⤷ user2 you make it sound like as if books are actually expensive ⤷ user3 it's the thought that counts babes

mickschumacher you really cracked the code, meine liebe (my love) ⤷ yourusername it's because i've read sherlock

user4 i'm so jealous to my core

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tagged: mickschumacher

yourusername livres et bisous (books and kisses)

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user5 the last picture is doing things to me ⤷ user6 y/n really won at love ⤷ user7 ik i'm so jealous of her

mickschumacher mon coeur (my heart) ⤷ yourusername mon ange (my angel)

user8 they're so in love i hate it here ⤷ user9 how can someone be as lucky as y/n fr

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tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher back in switzerland before travelling up to belgium!

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user10 ugh he's so boyfriend ⤷ user11 i feel so painfully single rn

user12 legit every time i see a post of y/n there are books involved ⤷ user13 she's just like me fr ⤷ user14 our little hopeless romantic

yourusername i cannot believe you laughed at me when i cried at the book's ending ⤷ mickschumacher i'm sorry ⤷ yourusername you should be! at least bobby was there to comfort me

user15 y/n crying because she got emotionally invested in her book is so real of her ⤷ user16 I'm her, she is me

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yourusername i think i've packed enough books for the upcoming race week

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mickschumacher you think? ⤷ yourusername there's never enough to read

user17 maybe she could just watch mick race instead of reading her boring books? ⤷ user18 she's at like every fucking race, let her be if she wants a time out and just enjoy some reading ⤷ user19 also what if she has social anxiety and just doesn't want to talk to many people and therefore loves to read instead?

user20 i understand her struggle of never having enough books with me on vacation ⤷ user21 like at least 50% if my luggage is filled with books and then i always buy more

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yourusername mon petit prince (my little prince)

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user22 UGH I WANT THIS SO BAD

user23 y/n learning french with the help of mick and reading le petit prince is literally the most adorable thing i've seen all week ⤷ user24 i just know mick's really patient with teaching her french ⤷ user25 i didn't even know mick speaks french ⤷ user26 he grew up in switzerland, they get taught french there

mickschumacher your french is definitely getting somewhere! ⤷ yourusername i have the best teacher comment liked by mickschumacher

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mickschumacher ma rose🌹(my rose)

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user27 HIM CALLING HER HIS ROSE BECAUSE HE IS HER PETIT PRINCE i am deceased ⤷ user28 boyfriend of the decade

yourusername je t'aime mon petit prince (i love you my little prince) comment liked by mickschumacher ⤷ mickschumacher je t'aime aussi ma rose (i love you too my rose)

user29 this is it i'm dead, died of envy ⤷ user30 how can i live laugh love under these conditions

user31 biting my fist rn

[stardustprompts]

vengeful  -  v.e. schwab  sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying  tw :  death , violence , language , mental health

‘what a fucking cliche.’

‘envy really doesn���t suit you.’

‘don’t you turn that knife on me unless you plan to use it…’

‘you should have let it go.’

‘you can’t just do that to me!’

‘you’ve been gone for hours.’

‘you never said I had to play fair.’

‘that’s a risk I’m willing to take.’

‘you look like a narc.’

‘it feels like dying.’

‘people have an idea of pain. they think they know what it is, how it feels, but that’s just an idea. it’s a very different thing when it becomes concrete.’

‘I did this. I did this to you.’

‘I am alive because of you.’

‘you think I’m playing god? fine, you play, (name). you decide, right now, who should live. us, or them?’

‘it’s a big world. you’re not the only one with talents.’

‘isn’t it silly to lie when we both know the truth?’

‘I think sometimes you make the easiest choice instead of the right one.’

‘make me the villain of that night, (name). wash you hands of any blame.’

‘a promise you can’t keep is just another lie.’

‘I don’t want you to save me. I want to save myself.’

‘I warned you when we met, I wasn’t a good person.’

‘killing me won’t bring her back either.’

‘think hard. we all have to live with our choices.’

‘the next time you point a gun at someone, make sure you’re ready to pull the trigger.’

‘we survived. that's what makes us so powerful.’

‘blood is always family, but family doesn’t always have to be blood.’

‘not all family is blood, right? sometimes we have to find a new one. sometimes we get lucky, and they find us.’

‘this isn’t a stupid game. it’s my life.’

‘are you used to getting what you want?’

‘hasn’t it occurred to you that I can protect myself?’

‘in this world, in my world, people get hurt. they die.’

‘people die in every world. I’m not going anywhere.’

‘you want to be more, (name)? prove it.’

‘they may think they’re kings but we’re the power behind the throne.’

‘i’m not a fucking coat, (name). you don’t get to check me at the door.’

‘where I go, you go. we’re in this together. step for step.’

‘did you always know that you had what it took to end a life?’

‘I thought it would be hard, but in that moment, nothing was easier.’

‘you were never one to dwell on the past. I loved that about you, the way things always just rolled off.’

‘every end is a new beginning.’

‘I underestimated you once. I don’t intend to do so again.’

‘the only difference between us is that you naively insist on preserving what I know should be destroyed.’

‘I played god once and it did not end well.’

‘oh no, it will never work between us.’

‘sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt, you just looked sad.’

‘while I admire how far you’ve come, the fact is, you’re tracking mud into my home.’

‘we can’t shape our past. only our future.’

‘don’t you ever wonder if it’s our fault?’

‘life is more than an equation. a person is more than the sum of their parts.’

‘normal is overrated.’

‘A\a magician doesn’t reveal his secrets.’

‘every power has its limits.’

‘we don’t decide who lives and who dies.’

‘now who’s letting their ideals cloud their judgement?’

‘how quickly we devolve. people become animals the moment they are caged.’

‘if you were superhuman, what would your power be?’

‘ignorance is only bliss if you want to get caught.’

‘i’m still here, still doing what I can, because I want to keep people safe.’

‘never underestimate a woman.’

‘I thought I could save him. I tried. but it didn’t work.’

‘power belongs to those who take it.’

‘sharks come swimming when you make a splash.’

‘that’s quite a talent you have there.’

‘I only hope you’re ready to do the right thing,’

‘you help me, and I’ll help you.’

‘everything’s got a limit. you should find yours.’

‘I don’t feel anything.’

‘oh, sorry, if you thought this was a girl’s-night-out kind of thing where we get drunk and bond, I’ll have to pass.’

‘why settle for one weapon when you can have an arsenal?’

‘the life I had is gone. there’s no getting it back.’

‘the life I had is gone. there’s no getting it back. i’d rather make a new one. a better one.’

‘I thought you were done with hiding.’

‘people can see an awful lot, and believe none of it.’

‘why sit around sulking when you could hurt the people who hurt you?’

‘let’s talk about revenge.’

‘there are limits. I can’t stop nature. can't change it’s course.’

‘whatever’s happened to you, however you’re hurt, you’ve done it to yourself.’

‘oh, I like to think I have a great deal of nerve.’

‘if you had a damn bit of sense you would have run.’

'knowledge may be power, but money buys both.’

‘sometimes subtlety is overrated.’

‘when people stay in the dark, it’s easier to make them disappear.’

‘I don’t want to survive, I want to thrive.’

‘what now? you gonna throw yourself a fucking party?’

‘if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had something against me.’

‘if I wanted you dead, you would be.’

‘whatever you’ve heard, it’s probably true.’

‘is there anyone who doesn’t want to kill you?’

‘how many excuses will you find to vindicate your own stubbornness?’

‘careful is a calculated risk. and I’m very good at making those.’

‘the truth is, there will always be someone stronger than you.’

‘you do what you can. you fight, and you win, until you don’t.’

‘once upon a time, power was determined by linage—- the age of blood. then it was determined by money—- the age of gold. but I think it’s time for a new age. the age of power itself.’

‘let me guess, I’m either with you or against you?’

‘you always preferred being predator to prey.’

‘we just have to lie low until it’s over, and then—’

‘when this is over, you and I are going to have words.’

‘it appears that we are evenly matched.’

‘it always comes down to this, doesn’t it? to us.’

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

hi!! i have a platonic req for miguel x chaotic teen reader who has a bad relationship with her dad, just a man who lost his daughter and a girl who never had a proper father.. what could go wrong..(im a slut for found family)

𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Platonic!Reader

Summary: After a really bad fight with your father, you escape to HQ, the one place you can find solace. To take your mind off things, you go on a mission with Miguel, but it seems you're a little too in your head.

Warnings: Arguments, swearing, and violence in the beginning so be cautious.

A/N: Finally back with some good ol' hurt/comfort, and found family :3

✧✧✧✧✧

“I’m sick and tired of having the same argument with you over and over again!” you say, the anger rising in your veins as your frustration bubbles over. You blink harshly as you try to force the angry tears down, your father seething angrily in front of you.

“Ever since Mom died, you’ve been unbearable. I’m an adult, you can’t control my life anymore pretending like it's love when I know damn well you don’t give a flying fuck about me,” you say, pointing an angry finger at him.

“WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE TALKING TO,” he shouts, stomping over and grasping your hair harshly as you let out a yelp.

“I give you a roof to live under, food to eat. I raised you, I am your father, and you think you can back talk me you brat?” he spits in your face, and your recoil in disgust.

It was always like this. He justified giving you the bare minimum as being a father, when the house you lived in was never really a home. Not after your Mom died, when everything fell apart.

When you became your world’s Spiderman.

“You were a spectator in my life, you were never truly my father,” you whisper harshly as his grip tightens on your hair. His eyes narrow at yours before he throws you to the ground harshly.

“Get out,” he says.

“W-what?” you ask, your body radiating with pain from the impact.

“GET OUT!” he shouts, leaning over you menacingly. “You think you’re so grown, then get the fuck out of my house because I am sick and tired of you. You don’t think I’m your father? Then I won’t be. You’re lucky your whore of a mother wanted to keep you around because in my eyes you were always my one worst mistake,” he says, and his words hit you like a freight train.

You knew he never loved you. Even before your Mom died he never truly seemed to like you around, only tolerated you because of how much your Mom adored you.

When she died, the substance abuse began. You practically raised yourself and learned how cold the world truly was. You never knew the love of your father, but even still, it hurt to hear him say what you always understood deep down.

“Fine,” you say softly, standing up and opening a portal to HQ. His eyes widen as he watches, but you don’t even give a damn anymore if he sees.

You were never going to see him again anyway.

In an instant, you were gone.

~

You emerge on the other side, right into the lobby of the Spider Society. A few familiar faces recognize you, waving in greeting. You wave back with a smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes.

“Hey Lyla?” you call out, and she appears hovering over your shoulder with a grin.

“What’s poppin', buttercup?” she says cheerfully, and the corner of your mouth quirks up a bit.

“I was just wondering if Miguel was around,” you say, and she reappears in front of your face.

“He was actually about to leave for a mission, want me to tell him to wait up?” she asks, and you nod.

“That would be great, thanks,” you say, letting out a soft sigh of relief.

“Already done, you know where to find him,” she says, before throwing up a peace sign and disappearing.

Miguel was…you didn’t exactly know what to call him. A mentor? A friend? Guardian maybe?

All you knew was that (despite a rocky start), he was one of the few people across the multiverse that you truly trusted. He was harsh at times, rough around the edges and gruff…but he was like a light you’ve never known.

You both had your baggage, and you have both lost a lot in your lives, but maybe that’s why it worked. Whatever it was.

“Miguel?” you call out, looking around the monitoring room. He wasn’t on his usual platform which was odd. All of a sudden you get that familiar tingle on the back of your neck, and you whip around.

“HOLY GODS,” you exclaim as you see him hovering in the shadows like a wraith ready to leap out for the attack. “What are you doing?!”

He only chuckles at your expense, walking out with an amused grin on his face.

“Just making sure your reflexes are working properly,” he states simply.

“By giving me a heart attack in the process?” you say with an exaggerated frown, and he snorts.

“Don’t be dramatic, besides, you make stupid faces when you get scared,” he says, and you gasp offendedly.

“Well, you always look stupid so beat that,” you retort, and his hand grasps his chest dramatically.

“How could you? After everything we’ve been through, you think I look stupid?” he says, and you can’t help the breathy laughter that escapes. But before long the smile is replaced by a frown.

You could never really hide your emotions around him, he could always read you too well.

“You alright, kiddo?” he asks. He tried to mask his concern, but his eyes never lied.

“Never better!” you say, your tone overly sarcastic. Miguel eyes you with an expression that says ‘That’s a load of shit’, but you just brush him off with a nervous chuckle.

“You were about to go on a mission right? Can I come along? Cool, great, awesome,” you say, not even waiting for his reply. You press a button on the back of your neck that replaces your clothes with your Spider Suit and turn to look at him expectantly.

“Let’s just pack this guy up, in and out right?” you say, and he sighs.

“Fine, you can come along,” he relents, opening up a portal.

“You do realize I was going to come along either way, right?” you say, and he shakes his head knowingly.

“I know, you have the stubbornness of a bull but it helps me feel at least somewhat like the leader of the Society if I get the final say,” he says, his voice almost small which makes you laugh out loud.

“There, there,” you say, patting his shoulder as the two of your approach the portal together. “Everyone around here respects your authority,” you say with a grin before your mask covers your face.

“Except you,” he scoffs.

“Except me,” you say in turn.

~

“So what’s the deal with this anomaly?” you ask as the two of you emerge on the other side, not wanting to go in completely blind if you didn’t have to. You were reckless, but you weren’t completely stupid.

“Came in through a tear from Earth-848710. Has the power to manipulate metal to his advantage. At the height of his powers he has the ability to control even the iron in our blood so watch out,” he instructs.

“Ooh, freaky. What, like blood bending in Avatar: The Last Airbender?” you ask, and a confused expression washes over Miguel’s face which makes you giggle a bit.

“Like what?”

“Oh Miguel, don’t worry, we’ll binge watch it later, just you wait,” you reply before the back of your neck tingles, and you sling a web up onto the ceiling, yanking you up off the ground.

Just in time, because in the place that you once were stood a beam of metal impaled into the ground.

“Holy shit!” you yelp, and Miguel is swinging right up beside you.

“That’s our cue then. On your toes, spiderling,” he says, and you grin. You don’t exactly remember when he started saying that phrase to you, but it was standard procedure before every fight for him to say it now.

“You got it, old man,” you snicker, and he rolls his eyes before swinging away, allowing you to analyze the villain down below.

His pillars were optimal at a range, so close combat was likely your best bet at beating the guy.

“You gonna hang up there all day, little thing? C’mon, give me a real fight,” the villain calls up to you tauntingly, and you scoff. Of course, he was going to be annoying, just what you needed.

“I’m just trying to find the quickest way to take your annoying ass down and believe me, it will happen,” you retort, swinging down before levelling him with a kick into his gut before he could react. He groans out in pain as you see Miguel send out his webbing from the corner of your eye.

But the villain seemed to notice it as well, using a shard of metal to slice it away before it could reach him.

“You think it’d be that easy, I’ve spent my whole life fighting so-called ‘heroes’ like you,” he scoffs.

“All that says to me is that you’re old,” you snicker, and he scoffs before sending a beam of metal toward you again. You leap out of the way just in time, but the villain picks up the pace.

Ear-scrapingly loud screeches of metal can be heard from all around as he pulls support beam after support beam out of the building to throw at you and Miguel.

“Where’s all that confidence from earlier, little hero?” he calls out toward you. “I thought you were going to take me down, yet here I stand. Maybe you’re weaker than you thought,” he laughs, and you narrow your eyes in annoyance.

You know you shouldn’t lead with your emotions, it was a recipe for disaster in a job like this but you couldn’t help it.

“Enough of this-” you seethe before you’re interrupted.

“THE BUILDING IS FALLING APART,” you hear Miguel shout, and it was true. With each support beam that the villain ripped from the frame, the more unstable the place became. You had to get this guy packed up and pronto, before you all were crushed.

“I’m tired of your games, anomaly,” you huff, levelling him with a glare.

“Why so serious? Your parents never hug you enough as a kid?” the villain says mockingly. You knew it was only to get a rise out of you, every comment of his was, but with your emotions already on high, you immediately saw red.

Everything you had bottled up and shoved down bubbled over like lava, and you lunged for the villain with a snarl.

You threw punch after punch as he cried out in pain, unable to do anything with your webs trapping him in place.

That’s when you feel webs that weren’t your own wrapping around your shoulders, yanking you off of the villain. You yank at the bonds, desperately trying to escape the fluorescent red webbing.

“Let me go, let me go! Let me finish him, Miguel,” you cry out, but he ignores you for a moment.

He shoves the villain through the newly opened portal without a second thought, knowing Jess would handle it on the other side before turning back to you.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” he says as he grabs your shoulders, holding you in place as he retracts the webbing. You wriggle around in his grasp, chest heaving with each breath as tears brim over in your eyes. He looks at you with concern, just scanning over you to make sure you were alright before truly looking at you. It made you feel small as you struggled to hold back your sobs.

His eyes only softened, clicking your mask off before brushing his hand gently over your hair, and it only made you want to cry even more.

“C’mere kid,” he says, pulling you into a hug. You exhale shakily before hugging him back tightly, the tears you had been holding back all day finally falling down.

He was so warm…his arms embracing you gently in the way your real father never could.

You stood there in his arms for a few minutes, sobbing into his chest while he just held you gently. After a little while your sobs subsided, replaced with the occasional sniffle before you pull away, looking off to the side sheepishly.

“Do you want to tell me what’s really bothering you now, mi tesoro,” he asks gently, not wanting to push you to say something you didn’t want to.

You only sigh softly, glancing back only to see the worry in his eyes before relenting.

“I don’t have a good relationship with my father…you know this,” you smile sadly, and he only nods, waiting for you to continue.

“We got into a really bad argument before I came here, and well, I don’t really have a father anymore. He kicked me out,” you sniffle. “And I know it shouldn’t bother me as much as it does, because he never cared for me like a parent should but it still hurts Miguel,” you say, your eyes tearing up again. He smiles sadly at you, brushing away a tear gently.

“I’m sorry, mi ángel,” he says, not really knowing what else to say. “But don't blame yourself for feeling what you feel. You can't help it, and besides, losing all that you knew, even if it hurt you is still difficult," he says, and you nod knowing that what he said was true. It wasn't easy to accept though, so you don't say anything in response.

"...You do know you always have a home here, don’t you?” he says, and you laugh softly to yourself, not really knowing why.

“I do?” you ask, and he chuckles fondly.

“Always,” he says before his eyes grow distant for a moment. “…I lost Gabriella a long time ago, I never really recovered from that loss…I don’t think I ever will. But I do believe that the universe sent me you in turn. You won’t ever be her, I know that. But you don’t have to be, because I care for you like a child of my own regardless. You know that, don’t you?” he says, the genuineness of his words evident.

“Thank you,” you whisper, hugging him tightly once more. “I have never felt more safe in my life than when I’m with you," you admit.

He only smiles, and for a moment you think you can see the glimmer of tears in his red eyes but figured it must have been a trick of the light.

“Let’s head back to HQ, kiddo. We can figure out some place for you to stay, alright?” he says, and you nod before pausing for a moment.

“Could I…stay with you?” you ask hesitantly, and his eyes widen for a moment.

“If that’s what you’d like, it can be arranged,” he says before laughing softly. “My house has always been too big for just one person anyway.” Immediately your expression brightens as you skip toward the open portal, a large grin on your face.

“I would like that very much.”

✧✧✧✧✧

A/N: Good gods it has literally been almost 2 weeks since I last posted. I'm so sorry, life has been kicking my ass but I'm back!! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading <33

Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid, @remuslupinwifee, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @rawegggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex, @chimpkinnuggies, @rqdior, @banana—belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @ieatmunson, @honeii-puff, @wh0re4zaynmalik, @toplinehyunjin, @ohworm-writes, @ishii03, @snowywhiterose, @leftcupcakedefendor

[jasntodds]

Penace [5]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 13,401

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, a little bit of angst, some fluff, mentions of death, panic attack (jason), ptsd (jason), hurt/comfort, mention of scars

Summary: ❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update!! I had a bunch of stuff going on last month and stuff happened and I just did not have the mental capacity to edit this chapter. I'm so sorry!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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The next morning rolls around leaving Jason to wake up first. You're still sound asleep facing him, some of your hair covering your face. Jason takes a tentative finger and moves some of the strands from your face. He takes this time to exist. Sleep always came easier when you were around. Less nightmares, not as much tossing and turning, no insomnia. It was always easier with you around and last night was no different.

You fell asleep first just as you usually did when he read to you. You were cuddled into his side and it felt like it always did for that half hour. Just the two of you in bed together with a book and enough trauma for the both of you. Jason thinks you're both really good at being able to exist in a moment as if nothing happened. There's something in you that allows you both to ignore it all even for a few minutes and just pretend to be who you were before instead of just skin and bones.

The world, people, expect you both to be something specific, to act a certain way. You told him once, in a sort of one-off conversation, you felt like people expected something different. At the tower, you always felt like the others expected you to remain quiet or be angry all the time, to snap at some point. Maybe you did. But, your blood was never filled with anger but grief for what you should have been able to have. When Jason died and you got angry, they expected the silence. They expected the grief to hit you like a train. They expected you to quit, get revenge on the Joker before Bruce did. They expected more than rage-filled blood and red-stained hands. And they expected you to move on because what else was there to do? He was dead. And you were alone. People put up expectations and in some ways you feel like you need to meet some of them. Be more careful, get angry, snap, pretend like it's all fine because it's always been fine. But, then you lay down with Jason and you can watch movies and talk about your mom and you can exist in a way that you want without the weight of expectations collapsing your lungs.

Everyone thinks Jason is angry, always has even before he died. He was never angry. He was upset and hurt and didn't know where to put it. He was never angry but everyone expected him to be so he played into it. They expected him to be some sort of fuck boy so he played into it. They expected him to be reckless and so he was. Maybe he was always a little reckless, no one forced him to rob the Batmobile or go with the red hoods when he was a teenager. But they expect it. And now...Jason can feel it. They expect him to lose his mind and until then, they expect him to be fine. He lived, right? Joker is dead, Bruce avenged his death, and he was brought back. He should be fine, right?

They expect him to be fine without ever considering the scars lingering on his chest or marking up his mind like scuffed up wood. But with you, there are no expectations. He is allowed to read and tell you about theater stuff. He is allowed to have nightmares and be scared. He is allowed to just be. When Jason is around you, he's allowed to exist in a way that he wants without the weight of expectations strangling the life out of him.

Maybe that's why you can exist in moments like these as if nothing ever happened. It is the only time neither of you are facing some false hope of expectations. It is the only time you both can be damaged in all your glory. It is the only time you're allowed to bear your scars with pride and show the beauty they've left behind. You can just...be.

He eyes you softly, brows pinched together and you look so peaceful. He wants nothing more than to pull you into him and sleep like this all day. But it is not his place. He's surprised you stayed in the first place let alone stayed in bed with him. He is so glad you did but there is so much you haven't talked about. So much happened and there's just so much between you. He wonders if you'll ever be able to recover or if this is all you'll be. Just a one-off sleepover sometimes.

He doesn't like that idea very much.

Jason forces himself to get out of bed and make his way to the training area where he keeps his fridge. He expects to be able to grab a few eggs and make an omelet, see what else he has and maybe he could make you (and Tim) pancakes. But, as he enters the room, Tim is seated at the table with a tablet open and his brows pinched together.

"Oh, hey." Tim chimes, offering Jason a wave and a glance before he looks back to the tablet. "I made toast and a pot of coffee." Tim explains.

Jason scratches his head before he shakes it and fully enters the room. "Right, yeah, okay." Jason clears his throat, trying to get rid of the sleep still etched in his tone. "Did you even fucking sleep?"

"Yeah, of course." Tim brushes the question, voice still chipper and a part of it reminds Jason of how Gar usually was at the tower. "Early riser."

"A roof fell on top of you last night." Jason states as he walks over to the coffee pot seeing about a quarter of a cup left. He lets out a sigh before he dumps the pot in the sink and starts a fresh pot.

"Oh, yeah but I'm fine." Tim shakes it off.

Jason can almost hear your voice in his head telling him to push for an answer. A roof fell on top of him and his boyfriend is in a coma. Jason does not buy for a single second that he's simply an early riser. No one is an early riser with this job, not if you want more than three hours of sleep a night. It would be responsible of him to ask Tim if he were okay.

"Seriously, you alright?" Jason asks as he leans against the table to face Tim.

Tim looks up at him and while he knew some of Jason before, this is different. The most of Jason he knows is actually Red Hood related. You didn't talk a lot about him when you hung out and he only spoke to Jason a handful of times, usually about his order at Excellent Gotham. There wasn't much said about Bruce Wayne's newest son. Instead, he knows Red Hood is ruthless, brutal, and scary. He is intimidating and will kill someone if need be. He knows Red Hood almost got his dad killed and almost got you killed and got Dick killed. His association with Crane got him killed. Tim knows Red Hood is someone he wants on his side because if he's not, that could be for the worst.

But, he's looking at Jason Todd who happens to be Red Hood and in this moment he doesn't feel like any of those things. He feels like he did when you introduced him. Normal. Calm. Nice. Tim knew there was more to Red Hood. Not only did he meet Jason and he trusts your general opinion of people, but Tim doesn't believe anyone is as two-dimensional as they may seem. Yet, some part of him almost feels surprised with Jason asking if he's okay but it doesn't feel like it's out of obligation. Instead, it feels like he might actually be genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, no, I'm fine." Tim answers. "Just..." Tim lets out a breath. "Gar said they haven't made any progress with Bernard. And I'm here..." Tim trails off. "Almost getting crushed by a roof and getting trained by you and y/n."

Jason pushes off the table as the coffee pot dings. "You've only been here like two days." Jason states as he makes his way back over to the coffee. "How'd it happen?" Jason asks as he starts to pour himself a cup, making sure to leave enough for you.

"Some video game thing that Brother Blood released." Tim groans. "No one knows how to get anyone out of their comas."

"Look," Jason starts as he walks back over to Tim. "That fucking sucks, alright? But, you and the Titans will figure it out. You're a genius, man." Jason lets out this scoff that comes out as a chuckle. "The way I see it, all those people and Bernard are lucky to have you looking out for 'em."

"Yeah, except I suck at this." Tim lets out a groan, tilting his head back. "I mean, Dick was...incredible. He was so good at this whole thing and he still is. And then you took over and you were just as great." Tim pauses for a few seconds as Jason watches the defeat start to wash over his features. "How am I supposed to live up to that when I can't even get any intel on this guy? When I can't even figure out a damn video game?!"

"Didn't you choose to be Robin?" Jason asks.

"Yeah but y/n said—"

"I died as Robin." Jason cuts him off because it doesn't matter what you said or didn't say. Jason knows Tim is going to be great at this. "Don't take what she says to heart too much. Her viewpoint of Robin will always be tainted because I died. Because it involved Bruce. You chose this, man." Jason points a finger at him. "No one else is crazy enough to do that, not after me. But you did. That means something. Don't get in your head about it, alright? You're smart as fuck and you're capable."

"But what if I was wrong?" Tim asks knowing it takes a special kind of confidence to not only volunteer to be Robin following Dick and Jason but to have the confidence he could do it.

"Dick wouldn't have asked you to be Robin if he thought you were." Jason says it so simply. "We were trained by Bruce for months before we put on the mask and cape, just remember that." Jason states as he takes a sip of his coffee.

"Thank you." Tim offers a soft smile. "Didn't think you'd be the pep talk kind of guy."

"I'm not." Jason lets out a booming cackle. "So don't go telling people I am."

Tim lets out a soft laugh before he locks the tablet. "She still sleeping?" He decides not to push his luck and changes subject, surprised not to see Sam yet.

Jason nods softly. "Yeah, letting her sleep."

"She doesn't sleep a lot, that's what Gar said...that Molly said."

"Yeah..." Jason pulls in a breath as his heart starts to break. "Comes with the job sometimes." Jason only half-lies.

"She's sleeping now." Tim gains a cheeky smile.

"Shut up." Jason groans and he not getting into any of that with Tim. Nope. "Did you want something more than toast?" Jason immediately changes subject before Tim can try to return the pep talk favor for relationship advice. "Toast is a shit breakfast." Jason puts his Wonder Woman mug down before he gets up.

Tim offers a chuckle. "Uh...yeah, I could eat something else."

Jason looks through some cabinets and the fridge. "Omelet or pancakes?"

"Omelet?" Tim questions softly. "Didn't think I'd have an option." Tim did not thnk Jason could really cook, given the whole eggs, beer, and cheese comment.

"Was making both anyway." Jason retorts. He's just trying to be nice.

Tim lets out a laugh. "Oh, I get it."

"If you don't shut up, we won't train today." Jason almost wants to shut his head in the fridge door with his comment. Who the fuck is he? Dick? Gar? Ugh.

Meanwhile, you're finally stirring awake to an empty and cold bed. Your hand reaches over and you feel the spot where Jason was is cold. Your eyes peek open to see he's no longer there or even in the room. It's not that you should have expected him to be you think but there's a part of you that's still disappointed. Somewhere in your head you almost hoped you'd wake up together and you'd have one of your awkward realizations together. You'd stumble over yourselves and your words but it'd feel like home. It'd be warm and comfortable anyway. And then you'd find your footing where it almost felt safest, in the mix of bantering and flirting. But, he's gone. You're not sure that feeling is something you'd ever be able to get used to.

But, you get up anyway, stretching before you get out of bed. You grab one of Jason's hoodies from the table, tugging it over your head as you walk out of the room. You head to the room with the fridge that you're not sure you should really call a kitchen since there's all the training equipment in there, too. Why is he like this?

As you get closer, you hear Jason's laughter bouncing off the walls. Your heart skips a beat and you don't even notice the way the corners of your mouth perk up into a tender smile. You pause just to listen for a few seconds while his laughter subsides and he goes on with his story. He tells Tim some story about a fight with the Riddler and how mad he was. You've heard the story before but hearing him talk so casually and lightly about his Robin days makes you want to burst.

In the few times you've talked of Robin, there's been a sense of bitterness and sadness surrounding the mantle but now he's laughing and joking. He has stories that aren't tied with grief and pain. Robin always meant the entire world to him and you're so happy he seems to still have some of that joy telling the stories. You think maybe he is getting better. Maybe Leslie really is helping him again.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." Jason quips as you walk into the room.

You clear your throat sarcastically. "Get fucked."

Jason flips you off with a tender smile while Tim lets out a laugh.

"Guess I won't make you pancakes then." Jason shrugs dramatically and you know it's a hollow threat but it is also not a chance you're willing to take.

Your eyes narrow slightly before a smile comes to your lips again. "Do not get fucked."

Jason tilts his head and lets out a laugh. "Dunno, think it'll help?"

You shake your head. "You are a bit uptight."

"Look who's fucking talking." Jason waves the spatula at her.

"I am so not uptight." You laugh as you take a seat beside Tim.

"Well." Tim adds in with a shake of his head and the scrunch of his nose.

"The fuck does that mean, Tim?" Your eyes widen at him.

Tim's eyes widen slightly back at her before he quickly looks to Jason. He might help him with Robin but if he wants to go back and forth with you on this front, that's all him. Jason will let him sink. He knows exactly which side he should always be on and it's wherever you are.

"You're on your own." Jason chimes, waving a spatula in the air as he turns back to the stove, the first batch of pancakes already on the burner.

"Nothing." Tim shakes his head with a smile.

"Right." You laugh softly as you roll your eyes.

Jason walks over with a mug in hand. He hands it off to you and your brows quickly raise seeing it's your Supergirl mug from the manor. You packed and moved but forgot the mug. While things aren't...bad per se, between you and Bruce, you did not go back for anything you forgot and you almost laugh. You may not have gone back but clearly Jason at the very least took your mug, likely with the intention to give it to Molly to give to you.

"Thank you." You hold your mug up to him as he goes to walk away.

"You're welcome." Jason gives you a bright and cheeky smile.

"So, what're we going today?" You ask the boys while Jason finishes breakfast.

"I really got to find this Venta guy and get back." Tim states.

"Figure we'll eat, train a bit, then help Tim here try to get some intel." Jason explains, finishing the pancakes before he moves onto the omelets.

"Sounds good." You suck in a breath, pulling out your phone to send a quick text to Molly to let her know you're awake and what the plan is.

Jason finishes up your breakfast before joining you and Tim at the table with three plates in hand, a delicate balancing act on his way. Tim offers a quick thank you before digging in, the toast clearly not holding him over too well. You offer Jason a tender smile before you dig in. Your chest warms and your skin bursts with goosebumps knowing Jason made pancakes for you.

Jason offers such a specific type of subtle kindness that seems to be overlooked by a lot of people. It's not so much in his words which after all this time, you figured out it's just because he's not too good at expressing himself most of the time. For him, actions say everything that gets caught in his throat. And it's not just with you he does it with. Bruce preferred his omelet differently and Jason never even asked, he always just made an extra one with the things Bruce liked. Gar mentioned he was looking for a few Saga comics and Jason found them and shipped them to Titans tower just because he could. He always offers to help Molly with anything she's working on. He extends his kindness with actions just to display how much he cares about the people who offer him the same kindness.

You think it's one of your favorite things about him.

The three of you finish up your food and get changed for training. The three of you take your time stretching and getting ready to allow your food to settle a little. Training starts just as it did yesterday, Jason taking the first round and then you. Tim still doesn't stand a chance but you and Jason can already see some improvement the longer you train which comes as a big relief. 

After training, the three of you get suited up and head out, deciding to go to the marina this time. Tim rides with you, hoping to find something out tonight. He feels like he's running out of time. Meanwhile, you and Jason are looking to see how he does not in a training room with a safety net. A roof fell on him last night and he seems incredibly unbothered. To you, it only feels right to have him out on the streets anyway, even if it's under false pretenses. So, while you're "looking" for Venta or trying to get intel on him, you're also patrolling, showing Tim the ropes, teaching him the art of grappling between buildings. This is all just more training, making sure he'll be safe out there in the open without the security blanket of you and Jason or the Titans or being in one location. Jason and you think Tim will be just fine. He's smart and capable, he pays attention. This is not a game to him.

It matters.

It always mattered to Dick and Jason, too but it's different with Tim. Bruce offered Robin to Dick and Jason. They were his sons. Batman and Robin. They had months and months of training and while it was hard and brutal at times, there was something that felt magical about the whole thing. It felt surreal. With Tim, it's as if he feels he is obligated to fill the role. Unlike Dick and Jason, Tim chose it and there's somehow more pressure in that for him to prove himself. Tim is generally someone who can focus on things that are important and serious, but this is different. It is his life. It's the life of innocent people. He's having fun, sure, but he's taking it even more seriously than Jason and Dick ever did. It doesn't help he's trying to fill their shoes, something Jason does understand.

After hours of looking and patrolling, you don't turn anything up and head back to Jason's. Tim is incredibly disappointed by his inability to find anything out but you and you assure him that if Venta were in town or if anyone knew anything, they would have spilled with the two of you being around anyway. Between the three of you, someone would have told you some sort of information. You both remind him how easy it was to get information from the people you did question about other cases. Some people are harder but getting intel on one person rarely ever results in no answers. The reassurance does make Tim feel a little bit better about it.

While Tim is feeling a bit better and you're confident in his abilities, feeling pretty good actually, the case is not the same for Jason. Some days are just better than others and today is not one of those days. Waking up with you was refreshing but he's finding that to be the best part of his day because Tim put on the Robin suit. Jason isn't mad or bitter about it. It has nothing to do with it but something about it is causing him anxiety. Something about seeing Tim in the suit, or maybe just another rendition of the suit, makes him want to explode and run and cry and scream. He's been biting it down all day because it's his problem not Tim's. He hates it but something about it is pulling him back to Amusement Mile. Something about it is pulling him back to the anti-fear drug and Cran'e reign. Something about it is making him feel so small and useless. He thought he was making progress but you're back at his home and he's never felt so disconnected from everything. He thinks it's so dumb to feel upset and panicky over this.

He swears it's fine.

"I'm gonna shower." Jason clears his throat before excusing himself to head off to his bedroom as quickly as he can, trying not to raise any alarms.

Your eyes linger on the doorway. Jason might as well have run out of the door with how quickly he excused himself. You heard a slight tremble in his voice. It was sharper than usual and his steps weren't as light as they usually are.

"Is he okay?" Tim asks as he walks over to grab the suitcase for his suit.

You look back at Tim and nod once. During your patrol, you could tell something switched. Jason's been in a good mood and pretty casual about everything, generally speaking. Being in a good mood and things going well always seemed to poke a hole into his head a bit. And today, out there doing your thing, he was quieter, more focused. He's always focused but this was laserlike almost and you're supposed to be helping Tim. You'd make some sort of quip and all you'd get is a disguised chuckle from behind his helmet. If you know anything, it's knowing Jason Todd is in fact, not fine.

"Yeah, no I'm sure he's fine." You brush it off, figuring you'll check on him in a few minutes. "I kept him up pretty late so he's just tired, probably." You nod again, Tim not buying any of it.

"He was up before you were." Tim states as he walks back over to you with his case. "It's not my business, just..." Tim shrugs dramatically, showing genuine concern for Jason's well-being.

Your eyes go to your boots and then back to him. "Yeah, uh...yeah." You nod your head. "I'll check on him in a few minutes. I'm sure he's fine, Tim." You offer him a fake smile.

Jason's head is spinning while his arms are practically vibrating themselves from his body. His muscles are going so weak he can barely turn the water on for a shower. The air is thick and stale through his lungs, burning with every breath. His stomach twists and his eyes start to water despite his best efforts to stop it. The world around him starts to feel like it's closing in and suffocating the life from his lungs. The shower pelts the porcelain flooring, he swears he can hear you and Tim talking and walking from down the hall. His heartbeat is radiating through his ear canals and the passing cars sound like they might drive right through his new home. Everything is growing louder and louder and the thoughts start to kick in. They take a battering ram to the walls and that's when he can't even bear to stand anymore.

Jason carries the heartbreak of death on his shoulders and it is crushing every part of him.

Tim leaves you to go change and you follow his lead, heading for a bathroom. You take your time, giving Jason enough time to gather himself if he needs to before you go to check on him. And for a second, you almost even second-guess it. You haven't spoken in a month and a half, you're just now trying this whole friend thing, is it really your place? When Tim leaves, will you just go back to not talking with no obligation in the middle of you? What if you're wrong anyway? Maybe Jason has changed a little bit in this time and maybe he was just more focused because a roof fell on all of you yesterday. You run yourself in circles, not wanting to overstep and mind his space. Jason always liked his personal space, maybe a little too much but you don't want to intrude. You always felt like you were just intruding in people's lives, a mismatched puzzle piece trying to make yourself fit. It's not what you want to do to him.

Being around him was one of the only places you felt like you belonged. And Jason was the one that always made you feel that way.

You make your way to Jason's room once you're in your regular clothes because you can't bear not to check on him. He would do it for you and you know him. Despite it all, you're certain you always know when something isn't quite right with him. So, you make your way to his room and let yourself inside, shutting the door behind you.

You can hear the shower echoing from the en suite bathroom. The door is closed but you're relieved that he's in the shower and not losing his entire mind in his bed. You look around his room some more and you wonder what else he plans to do with it. You think it must feel more like a home than the manor did. Back at the Tower, he had some stuff on the walls that he picked up because the room was his. He graffitied the walls. It was his and it felt like his. But, the room in the manor still had a poster of the Flying Graysons. Jason didn't decorate the walls, something that always made you sad because it should have felt like a home to him. You never asked but you wondered why it didn't. It couldn't have just been Bruce because of how Jason views him. So, you wonder if it was because maybe he didn't think he deserved the manor or maybe it was that he felt like a replacement and someone else would come in to replace him anyway. Maybe it was a safety precaution for his own feelings of being left behind. You aren't sure but you hope this place feels like a home and he gets to decorate his walls.

The shower is still echoing through the door but you can hear the water clearly, no disturbance or movement. Your brows pull together as you make your way to the bathroom and knock softly. You don't get any answer and you don't hear any movement behind the door.

"Jay?" You ask as you knock louder this time. A lump forms in your throat while your heartbeat starts to spike. Your stomach burns and your teeth grit together. You remember the day on the roof. "Jason, are you okay?" You call again and don't get anything in response.

Your hand goes to the door handle and you pause for a second. And it's just a second before you open the door slowly. You carefully peek your head around the door, your eyes landing on the walk-in shower. The frosted glass door is open while water ricochets onto the white tile floor. And then there's Jason. He's seated, fully clothed in the shower, his knees are tugged to his chest while his arms are wrapped entirely around his shins. His head is buried in his knees and all you can do is shake your head in devastation.

You walk inside and close the distance between you. You keep your stance from outside of the shower, trying to mind his personal space.

"Jay?" You try again and you get nothing from him. It's as if he doesn't even register you in the room which might be one of the biggest red flags when it comes to Jason Todd. He is nothing but on guard.

You walk back to the door and shut it, just in case. Then you kick off your shoes and tug your hoodie off your head before you close the distance between you again. This time, you enter the shower, immediately getting pelted by warm water as you kneel down right in front of him.

"Jay, hey." You call his name again but this time, your hands are delicate and careful as you put them on his cheeks. He jumps immediately, head hooting up with eyes terrified and red. He looks panicked for just a few seconds until his brain catches up with what he's seeing. Your teeth grind together seeing the look of pain across his face. It's written in every line and feature you'd fallen so in love with over the last year. Your hands come to his cheeks again, just as tender as they were before and he doesn't even flinch this time. "What's going on?" You ask softly. Jason shakes his head against your hands and his eyes dodge yours and he feels embarrassed and exposed. Of course, you'd find him.

You always find him.

You always see him.

"It's you and me." Your voice is careful as your thumbs run over his skin. "I'm worried about you. What happened?" You brush the white streak of hair from his face.

"Loud." Jason's voice comes out hoarse and small and his bottom lip trembles. It takes every muscle in his body not to let out a sob.

"Okay." You nod your head once, the look of worry almost permanently etched into your features. If Jason had the strength, he'd push you away just to get you to stop worrying so much. He doesn't deserve it. You don't deserve it. "What happened?" You ask quietly, the water now completely soaking your hair.

Jason offers the weakest shrug you have ever seen. "Don't know." Why do you want to help him? Can't you see the monster he's become? His lip starts to tremble again as he tries to get a breath in but the tears are coming back and he can't breathe out of his nose. The water is dripping into his mouth and he almost thinks it'd be easier to just drown right here.

Not a day goes by that you aren't worried about him. It doesn't matter if you haven't spoken. It wouldn't matter if you hated him, as if that were even possible. You'd worry about him because Jason Todd has done everything to be enough. He has done everything to be happy and somehow, he's still the one sitting in a shower in tears because the world around him is suffocating. Yes, the whole Robin thing was worrisome. The whole Red Hood thing is worrisome. He gets shot out for fun. He taunts people because he thinks it's fun. Someone else is going to kill him one day, that much is certain. And while that is worrisome, you've also seen the damage people he loves have caused him. It doesn't have to be physical damage because Jason's own brain wants to torture him and it uses everyone else's words as some sort of infinite ammo. The vigilante thing is worrisome, but where Jason's head is, that's the real thing that's worrying.

It wouldn't matter if you hated each other, you would rip every false and cruel thought that ever crosses his mind.

You let go of his face and move your hands to his. You're careful, lightly pulling his hands apart and away from his legs. Once his legs are free, you move to the side and lightly press on his knees until his legs are stretched out in front of him. The whole thing is making Jason watch you with careful eyes and it's almost a distraction and then you climb on top of him. You straddle his lap, Jason's eyes never leaving you and it almost causes him more panicky. He might know you better than he knows himself, but he very rarely knows what you'll do in moments like these. But then, you don't say anything. All you do is wrap your arms around his neck and pull him for a hug.

Jason tenses up just as he's done before but after a few seconds, a part of him relaxes against you. He gathers a full breath into his lungs and it's as if he's giving his body permission to lose it all again, in the comfort of you. His arms wrap around your middle and his grip is so tight as he lets out a sob, you can't breathe. You think you'd suffocate if it allowed him any type of relief.

It is all just too much. The weight on his chest is too heavy and he doesn't think he can carry it. He goes out and he murders people. They may be very bad people but it's what he does and he thinks about how Bruce is so mad about it. He tries to be understanding but they will never come to an understanding over it. It will be a matter of time before Jason ends up an enemy to Batman and by default, an enemy to Bruce. What makes what Jason is doing different than what the Joker did to him? To Jason, Batman and Robin were the Joker's enemies, right? And he took care of a problem, the same way Jason is taking care of problems. Jason might not be the instigator in it, but he's doing the same crime. Was Bruce right about it? Is he any different than the Joker?

Most days, it is a thing that he lives with. It's for the greater good and his soul is already damaged, it's already the property of something that isn't quite him anymore. It's always just waiting in an in-between for his second round at death. He does it so other people won't have to. He does it so other people won't feel like him or you or Bruce or Dick or Molly or any of them. He does it to help because people get forgotten. That's what he tells himself but right now, he can't quite figure out if that's really the right thing. He doesn't know what else he's supposed to do. If this isn't supposed to be the answer, then what is? What if it isn't and he can't come back from it anyway? His hands are already stained with so much blood.

And because of that, he falls back into his routine way of thinking. He is damaged. He is broken and scarred, physically and mentally now. Everything around him crumbles at his feet. He tries so fucking hard to be something that's easy to swallow and digest but he fucks that up, too because no one really expects him to be like that. He breaks everyone around him and all he does is hurt people. They try to offer him love and kindness and he bites through it like a rabid coyote. He is undeserving. Someone who is deserving doesn't push and they don't hurt people for being kind. They don't destroy people. That's all he has ever done.

And then he fucking died. It might have been scary and traumatizing but there was a moment, right before everything went dark where he accepted his fate. That would be it. No one else would have to suffer for his mistakes. He was going to die and some people might be sad for a little bit, but they would move on. And he wouldn't fuck up their lives anymore. And he wouldn't suffer anymore.

The ache in his bones would be gone and the voice would be quiet. All of the pain he's dealt with would just be...gone. He would take his last breath, and that would be it. He has hurt for so long that there was a moment where he accepted his fate, that it might just be better and easier this way. He did not want to die and he wishes he were able to have put up a fight but in that single second, he accepted it.

That feeling lingers with him today. He accepted it and as brought back. The reaper won't leave him alone, tugging at his lungs and his bones. It's not forceful, just a casual reminder of what's waiting for him one day. It's a feeling in his stomach that feels like the start of an ulcer. Just there, waiting for the right moment. And he saw the look Dick gave him when he saw Red Hood was Jaosn. He did not seem happy. You were at first pissed about it. No one really seemed too happy at first when he came back. He interrupted your grieving process and then interrupted everything else. He dies with the ache in his bones and the guilt because he has no choice but he swears he won't do this again.

He put a bomb in his helmet as a failsafe.

You pull his thoughts back to you as you press a kiss to his temple. "You're gonna be okay, Jay."

"I'm not!" Jason yells through a whine as he pulls away, his eyes on you. His chest is heaving as he pants for some sort of air. "I'm never gonna be fucking fine."

Why does the world treat him so cruelly? Can't it see that he is good? Can't it see that he has always been enough? Can't it see that Jason Todd has been through enough? He has suffered enough. You would fight the universe with your bare fucking hands if that's what it took for it to understand that he is done suffering.

"You will be." You nod your head at him as your hands come to the side of his neck. Your thumbs trace his jawline. "And you don't have to do this shit alone." You urge. "I told you, if I'm alive then you are never alone and I mean it. I don't care." You shrug harshly. "It's gonna be okay." You want to kiss him until he believes you. You want to kiss all of his hurt away, scare it away so far away that it never comes back. You want to kiss him as hard as you can so maybe he'll believe, once more, that he is worthy and he's gonna be okay and he is never fucking alone if you're breathing.

"I-I just want to stop." His voice has never sounded so defeated as he rests his head against your chest.

"I know." You whisper, your hand moving to the back of his head as you run your hand through the wet strands of black hair. "It will, you just gotta give it some time, Jay." Your voice is steady and calm, disguising the pain in your chest. "You've been through a lot."

Jason picks his head up, his green eyes are dark and miserable. Completely broken. "I died." Jason chokes out.

"Yeah." You nod once as Jason watches something devastating rip through your eyes. "Someone should have been there to protect you." You wish it would have been you. It should have been you to protect him.

Jason shakes his head and he lets out this chuckle that almost falls into another sob. "Maybe I was better off dead." He says it in one breath, all flat and sincere. "Look what I've become."

"No." You say sternly because he doesn't get to do this to himself again. He has prevented you from this exact spiral more times than you can count and he doesn't even know it. It's your job to make sure you repay the favor that was never really a favor. "You deserve to be alive." Jason catches a subtle break in your tone. "You became something that everyone was too fucking cowardly to become. You save people." You nod firmly. "Do you know how many people you've saved as Red Hood?" You ask.

"Not fucking many." Jason lets out a huff.

"Three hundred and two." You answer right back.

Jason's eyes widen and he is so certain you're making that up. "What?"

"Three hundred and two." You repeat. "There was a domino effect, too. I didn't actually count that because it would be like... impossible but I did account for some of them. A guy was gonna blow blow up the museum but you stopped him the day before he had a chance. So, you saved every person that would have been there. You've stolen how many guns from Black Mask? I mean just think of how many people you saved because you took those guns? Domino effect. Of course, there was the apartment fire last week which I don't know, Jay. You're not a firefighter but you still went into it and saved a whole family then went back and saved their cat."

Jason's eyes burn and sting as he stares at you in disbelief and confusion. The water pelts him and it's the first time he realizes it's going a little cold. Why the fuck do you know that? Why are you keeping track? Jason doesn't even believe you. You have no reason to keep track of how many people he's saving. It's his doing and it has nothing to do with you. There is no reason for it. You're just telling him this shit to make him feel better even if that's never been something you've done.

You don't lie to him.

Jason didn't think you'd start so soon and he did do those things. The Gazette wrote a few articles about it though and Molly knew. Maybe that's how you knew but your eyes are soft and your fingers are idly playing with the wet strands at the base of his neck. Why are you keeping tabs on him when you never called?

"W-why the fuck do you know that?" Jason finally gets the words out and you can't tell if he's actually mad about it or concerned.

You hope he's just concerned.

You shrug and offer him a small but cheeky smile. "Cause I do." You suck in a breath. "Have my ways."

The very corner of Jason's mouth tugs upwards just barely at the thought that you're really keeping tabs on him, outside of hearing from your friends. If it were anyone else, he'd be pissed. He can take care of himself despite what this situation might look like to an outsider. He can take care of himself and he doesn't need people worrying about him and keeping tabs just to be disappointed or mad. Jason Todd has never needed anyone but you keeping tabs on him both as Jason Todd and Red Hood is different because you only do it for people you care about. You weren't talking and you still kept up with what he was doing. It makes him wonder why because you could have called. You could have asked yourself and maybe that makes the tiniest smile fall.

Jason didn't call either.

"Keeping tabs on me?" Jason asks with a rough but quiet voice, his brows pulling together.

Not keeping up with him feels impossible. As much as you're beating yourself up for everything and as much as a part of you doesn't think you deserve anything with him at all, there was always a part of you that knew you needed to keep up. Molly and Gar might know what he's doing as himself but Jason's going to keep them away from Red Hood as much as he can. Somewhere inside your stomach, you knew you'd find your way back into each other's lives one way or another. You just wanted to know what he was doing and if he were okay. The only thing you want is for him to be okay and killing people is not the easiest thing in the world, despite what it might look like sometimes. So, you've been keeping up with him just in case.

He's important to you, of course you keep tabs on him.

"I know you're keeping tabs on me, too." You whisper back to him, the cheeky smile completely gone from your lips.

Sometimes Molly will ask an odd question, something she either shouldn't know about or something off-handed. All of the Titans would just ask you which means the only person in Molly's ear is Jason. And you know damn well Molly is smart enough to know you'd figure it out. You just don't say anything. You give Molly the answer and Molly updates you on Jason's things. Okay, so she's a little in the middle of you and Jason but Molly knows you're both mostly asking about each other because you're worried. It is so stupid and you're so emotionally stunted, but it'd drive you both crazy not to know.

Jason just needs to know you're okay.

"Maybe." Jason finally gets a grin onto his lips because you knowing without saying anything until now makes his heart swell. Even apart, you just can't help yourselves.

"Exactly." You let out a soft laugh.

Jason nods a few times, his smile turning gentle. "Why, uh, why do you know that though? How many people?" Jason asks and he finds himself resting his hands on your hips as if on instinct.

"Helps." You answer casually. "Keeping track of everyone you kill and everyone you save by killing, it helps. Keep track of mine, too so...I kept track of yours...just in case." You clear your throat, dodging his eyes. "Know how you are and stuff so...uh, yeah, just...knowing it does help...helps on days where it feels like this might be worse." You explain softly. "It's not...by the way." You clarify. "Greater good but yeah...uh, yeah, you know sometimes it's a lot to carry."

The way you word it makes Jason's heart burn. His hands grip your hips a little tighter and he remembers the night outside of Jerry's. You nearly beat him to death and everything was still heavy. It was still a lot to carry and Jason told you to put it on him. When it gets too hard to carry, put it on him because he can carry the weight of it for you. You swore you'd do the same for him and Jason wonders when you seemed to lose that.

He knows. Deep down he knows because it haunts him in his sleep. That night outside of Excellent Gotham when you were finally done absolutely destroyed him. He knows that was the night you both lost everything. That he lost everything. He had almost gotten you, Tim, and Mr. Drake killed and you couldn't do it anymore. Jason still doesn't blame you even if it makes him want to lose his mind to guilt and regret all over again. It hurts because he always felt so secure with you but then that happened and it was like everything he ever had finally collapsed at his feet. An earthquake disguised in the words of "you win. I can't do it anymore. I'm done." crumbled his foundation. Your love had been wilting away ever since he came back and that was the day it all finally fell apart.

He wishes he could take it back. He wants what you had back.

"Still will carry some of the weight for you, Jay." You suck in a breath.

Can the wilting process be reversed? Can it be rebuilt? Or is it tarnished forever? Or can you rebuild something better? If Jason committed now again, would it be better? Could you get a fair fucking chance at this time?

Jason grinds his teeth thinking that he wants you. After all of this and you are still willing to be soaking wet in your clothes in a shower with him and carry the weight of devestation for him when it's too much for him. He is endlessly and hopelessly in love with you. He wants you. He wants what you had before and he wants to rebuild it. Somehow, some way, that is what he wants and fuck if he thinks he deserves it or not because you wouldn't be here if you didn't feel the same way.

Jason leans his forehead against yours. "You can still put it on me." Jason whispers softly and you gain a soft and subtle smile.

You don't know it, but Jason is entirely committed to you. Maybe you won't want to try again and Jason can't even blame you. It was a fucking shitshow and he died and you almost died. It was a fucking disaster. Maybe you weren't, but your worlds burned around the both of you and charred you both in the process. Maybe you won't want to and that's fine. But, Jason wants to try it all one more time, banter and games and then falling into something. It might not have worked the first time, but it'll be different this time. He's so sure of it and he is so sure of you. He just wants to find his footing and allow you to find yours first and then, even if it makes him want to throw himself through a window, he'll start the conversation.

You pull away, resting your hands on his cheeks. "Why don't we get up, get dry, and I can stay if you want me to?"

He always wants you to stay.

"Ya don't have to if you don't want to." Jason offers even though he knows you will anyway.

"I know." You smile softly at him before you scrunch your nose at him. "Guess you're just stuck with me."

Jason lets himself laugh. There's no such thing as being stuck with you. You don't get stuck to people and you make sure people don't get stuck to you. He is not stuck, it is always a pleasure to have you around. Even when it's hard.

Sorting yourselves out is for the best. It hurts the both of you more than words could possibly describe and a part of that does not feel it's for the best. It feels, somehow, more complicated now than it did before. It's as if you've both forgotten how to walk around each other and that part feels wrong. You both strolled right into each other's lives before and made yourselves right at home as if it were always meant to be that way. Being a part and sorting yourselves has left this gap between you that you're not sure how to build a bridge back. But it's for the best because you can't be together and offer each other the care you deserve if you're too busy dealing with your own traumas while trying to help the other one. It's a little too much to throw in a romance. It sucks and Jason knows it.

"Thanks."

"Of course." You get up, leaning over and turning the shower off finally.

You offer your hands to Jason and help him to his feet. The both of you are completely drenched and it makes Jason laugh. Your hair is soaked, the small bit of eyeliner is running down your cheeks and your t-shirt sags pathetically over you. You stick your tongue out at him and then laugh with him. He doesn't look much better than you do so you laugh, heartily and loud, the booms bouncing off of the tile surrounding you. It's all a little ridiculous.

"Why are you laughing?" You ask as you gasp for a breath.

"You look like a drowned rat." Jason bellows before he grabs the two towels from the towel bars.

"Fuck you!" You yell before sucking in a laugh and catching the towel from Jason. "So do you!"

"I know!" Jason agrees with you which only makes you laugh more and he thinks you're still the prettiest person he's ever met.

His laughing subsides first and turns into something soft and tender while you just smile at him before rolling your eyes. Jason wides his eyes to mock you and then he turns around. He rests his towel on the counter beside him before stripping down to his boxers and you can't help but watch. You're starting to feel goosebumps erupt over your skin as you grow colder but the sight of Jason Todd stripping down? That is not a sight to be missed.

He's somehow more toned now than he was before. The muscles of his back flex with every movement as he dries himself off. The Lazarus pit healed his face and the other injuries he sustained from the Joker but it didn't get rid of his previous scars. The one from his dad is still there and the other one from a fight on the streets. You still like how they look on him. Proof that he is alive. And the only thing you want to do is wrap your arms around him and kiss up his shoulder blades.

You almost do it.

Your feet almost move and you can almost feel how his skin will be warm against yours. He'll straighten his stance at first and then he'll relax. His hands will come up to your arms and a chuckle will fall from his lips the second you place the first kiss between his shoulder blades. You both would be happy.

You almost move.

But it's not your place anymore.

So, you will yourself to turn around and strip down just as he did, leaving you in just your bra and underwear to get as dry as you can. Jason peaks over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of your back to him. He could feel you practically boring into his back and he's relieved you turned around. It wouldn't normally bother him but he'd have to turn around eventually and he wasn't in for that conversation at the moment. But, he offers a glance, catching the raised lines of scars through your back, something that still boils Jason's blood.

Your scars never bothered him. Proof that you fight like hell to make it out alive. But, it pisses him off because what the fuck did you ever do to deserve the mistreatment? Nothing in this world justifies the horrors you went through and the fact you have to bear the scars for the rest of your life as if the haunting memories weren't enough. Jason gets it more than anyone, especially now. And all he wants to do is pull you into him, litter kisses across your face until you burst at the seams with laughter because you're happy. At least if you're laughing you're happy and that's what you deserve. To be happy.

Jason shakes his head and says he'll be back with some dry clothes before he darts out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He takes a few minutes to get some dry clothes on himself, making sure he's covered with a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. His body starts to warm up almost immediately from the clothes and then he rummages through his things looking for something for you to wear. He grabs a pair of boxers for you, sweatpants that he only kept because they fit you better, and a red t-shirt.

When Jason gets back to the bathroom, you're seated on the toilet seat with the towel wrapped around you, cutting off just above your breasts. Jason offers you a smirk because who are the both of you if you aren't going to do this whole banter thing?

"Wanna give me a show?" Jason quips.

You snap your attention to him, seeing a pile of clothes in his hands and him now fully clothed. "No, fuck you." You chortle back as you get to your feet.

"But I'm sad." Jason gives you the fakest pout you've ever seen.

"You're still obnoxious." You quip, gesturing with one hand to get the clothes from Jason.

Jason keeps his smirk. "Better than shithead."

"Shithead." You beam up at him, still waiting for him to hand over the clothes.

"Babe." Jason laughs before handing over the clothes.

You smile back at him with the roll of your eyes. "Maybe I'd have given you one if you gave me one." You blink up at him and Jason knows damn well this is a trap.

"In your dreams." Jason holds his confidence.

You shrug, deciding to play the game. It is always the most fun that way. "Those are my best dreams."

Jason feels his cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. "Don't have just be dreams, babe."

"You fucking wish."

"If I did?" Jason quips without missing a fucking beat.

"I know you do." You roll your eyes and he knows he's won. "Turn the fuck around or get out."

Jason lets out a laugh before he leaves you to get changed, closing the door behind him. "I'm right out here if you change your mind about the show."

"Fuck you!" You yell before Jason hears you laugh behind the door.

Jason leans against his dresser, tugging out his phone to see what he's missed. He has a few texts from Gar, mostly just TikToks and one asking how things are going. Jason decides he'll respond later, not in the mood much for explaining that one. There's a text from Dick asking how Tim is doing and Jason replies that it's going fine, not offering any further explanation. He knows damn well Dick sent the same text to you and you'll elaborate more. There isn't much else on his phone so he goes to his gallery, a habit he can't quite break.

He hasn't deleted a single photo of him and you from his phone. It's an endless and helpless bit of hope that it'll be you and him at the end of this. And these are pictures from a better time because even when he was dealing with the shit from Deathstroke, at least you were both happy. Everything still seemed so simple compared to how it feels today. It feels like years have passed since you were in your bed changing your lock screens to matching pictures. It's as if you've lost your last bit of innocence in those few weeks of terror and agony. Jason figures that's just a consequence of endless trauma. He grieves for the kids you should have been allowed to be. Innocent and dumb and stubborn and carefree. He grieves for the people you both were in the pictures on his phone.

The door opens, tugging Jason's attention up and away from his phone before he pockets it. A tender smile pulls at his lips as you walk out in his clothes, he swore they always look better on you anyway. You have a pile of clothes in your hand, topped with the black towel. You walk right up to him, standing just a few inches from him and beam up at him before you offer the stack to him.

Jason tilts his head back with a laugh before he pushes off the dresser. "Am I your fucking maid now?" He quirks his brows at you.

"I don't think you want me to answer that." You laugh right back and it's something airy and warm.

Jason shakes his head. "Fuck you."

"If you ask nicely." You fire right back and you watch the subtle tint of surprise fade over his face. You let out a snicker before Jason deadpans. "It is still so much fun to fuck with you, Jay."

Jason isn't the only one chasing the innocence of a few months ago. You can feel it, too. It's dark now. Something heavy is lingering in the air everywhere you go. You hate how it feels and ignoring it doesn't do you any good but what else is there to do? At the very least, the way Jason laughs still makes you smile. At the very least, the way he laughs makes the air not feel so heavy anymore. The banter makes things feel a little bit better because at least you're talking, at least you're still on the same page. At least it's still him and you.

"Give me your damn shit." Jason grumbles through a smile while you do as told through a laugh. "Just...wait here." Jason stutters for a second before he darts out of the room.

You make your way to his bed and sit down, your hand landing on his pillow. There's something hard under it and while it isn't your business, you pick up the pillow anyway. Jason keeps a gun under his pillow and the smile evaporates in a second. You know why he does it but...it's the reality of it. The heaviness of always having a weapon at the ready even when it dangers your own life. To live in fear. To live always on guard. It's not fair.

Your heart aches for him. Even after everything, he deserves better. He has always deserved better but now he's stuck here dealing with the monstrosities he was manipulated into doing and dealing with dying. It's all not fair and you wish you knew what you could do to make it better.

You carefully grab the gun, checking the safety and you're relieved he's at least keeping the safety on. You rest it beside you before you look on the other side of the bed, not seeing any other weapons. You'd hope you would have noticed last night or this morning if he had anything out in the open. But, Jason wouldn't which makes you wonder where else he's hiding his weapons.

"What're you doing?" Jason's voice brings your attention back to him.

"Why, uh, w-why do you keep a gun under your pillow?" You ask.

Jason's teeth grind against each other, knowing he can't lie about it. He moved it last night when you weren't paying attention. He'd never have you sleep in a bed when it could go off. But, by the way you asked, that's not why you're asking. You don't even sound mad but Jason is embarrassed anyway. Exposed again, twice in one night because of course he keeps weapons at the ready. He needs to be prepared for anything. Joker took care of the job once already and Jason has been doing a great job in making more enemies than friends these days. He keeps his guard up at all times so he doesn't get beaten to death again.

"I put it there." Jason states, stuffing his hands into his pockets, practically gluing his feet to the floor. Maybe if he doesn't move, you won't ask any more questions.

You blink at him a few times. "Yeah...I-I knew that?" You question him. "That's fucking stupid, you know that?" You ask with the nod of your head. "You might have the safety on but what if it goes off?"

"Look, it's not a fucking thing. You don't have to make it one." Jason shakes his head, gesturing a leisured hand towards you, trying to brush it off as much as he can.

You roll your eyes before you get up, gun in hand with the barrel facing the floor. "I'm not judging you for it. I get it." You shrug your shoulder as you hand the weapon to him.

Jason holds it in his hand, grip tight while he watches you go to your bag. His brows furrow as you start digging into your backpack. You pull out a switchblade, metallic blue shining against the low light of his room. You walk back over to his bed and put the knife under his pillow.

"It's locked so it shouldn't open on you while you're asleep. Just don't lose that one, I like that one." You roll your shoulders, eyes locked on his. "I got those from Bruce so they're good for throwing." You explain as you swallow thickly and you can see Jason wanting to fight you on it, defend himself but he doesn't need to. Jason Todd never needs to defend himself against you. "I have one under my pillow, too." You say quietly while you watch Jason's face soften and his shoulders relax.

Being with you was always the place he never felt judged for anything, even the blood staining his hands.

"Thank you." Jason takes a few steps forward, finally unsticking his feet from the wooden floorboards. "Don't have to look after me, though." Jason says it simply, a hint of hurt in his voice. He takes a seat beside you. "Not your job anymore." Jason's eyes are dark and sad, something tugging his thoughts back to a place they shouldn't be.

"I know." You say quietly. "It was never a job in the first place." Your eyes go to your hands and Jason can feel the lump in his throat growing again but this time, for the love he thinks he lost from you. Or the love he thought he lost. "You're still my favorite person." You whisper back to him and you don't know why you say it. You only know that it's true and it's always been true. Maybe he just needs to know it's still you and him.

"Still?" Jason asks, his eyes searching over your face for any indication that you're going to throw out some quip.

"Mhm." You hum with a subtle nod.

Jason looks to his hands in his lap and he misses you more than words could possibly describe. He misses your honesty and your care and your quips and the snark. He misses every aspect of you and he is so in love with you. He thought, for just a second, maybe that feeling would fade. Time would pass and it would fade, especially lately. You'd meet again and maybe it would be so different that he wouldn't feel like his heart would burst from his ribcage at the sight of you. You always deserved better than him anyway. After everything he put you through, you deserve better than that but he can tell by how you stutter and tug at your sleeves, the way your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes after the last bit of banter, you aren't entirely happy. Being with him, for some reason he'll never understand, made you happy. And being with you always made him happy. You're sitting here and it's as if his very heart is trying to climb through his chest to get to yours. He is still so endlessly in love with you.

"I miss you." He says it quietly, looking back to you and he wishes he could tell you the other eight letters but..that all seems a little too honest and a little unfair. He doesn't expect you to say it back.

Every day you wake up and you love him. Every day you wake up and you miss him. Today was the first day in two months, you didn't miss him. You didn't miss him because he was down the hall. You didn't miss him because he was here and so were you. Today was the first day in two months, your chest didn't ache with the thought of him. You miss him, too and you miss his smile and his laugh and the new addition of the white streak of hair. You miss his sarcasm and his ability to turn anything into some sort of joke. You always miss him. And you are endlessly in love with him.

"I miss you, too." You whisper back, eyes locking on his.

The haunted words of 'I love you' scrape down your throat, knowing it's not your place to say them. It's too honest, too vulnerable, too exposed. It's too much for both of you and it's not fair to put that on him. It's not fair to put it on him because you aren't sure what you'd do if he knew. It's agonizing swallowing the words. You have felt more at home today than you have in two months. Jason deserves to know you still love him despite it all but you can't say it.

The room falls silent, the air between you growing humid and thick. Tonight was a bad night. They happen sometimes. Sometimes the weight of it all drags Jason down and he can't pick himself up. But you walk right in and don't even hesitate. You always know what to do and you never even question it. Tonight was a bad night but you were here and he is thankful for you. He's coming into himself as Red Hood, knowing, most nights, that what he's doing is for the greater good. He's getting along with Bruce and they're actually trying for once. He sees Leslie once a week. He is trying, making a solid effort to move past everything that's ever made him feel like a burden. It's the forgiving himself for what happened that drags him down.

Everyone was right. It was his choice to go to Crane. He didn't have to. Sure, maybe it wasn't really him while he was high, but it was. It was him making that choice to keep taking it, it was his choice to ignore every single offer you ever made to bring him back just because he was pissed and stubborn and he felt abandoned. So many people have suffered because of what he did under Crane's control. It may not have been the real him but he still did it. And that's a very difficult thing to forgive himself for. And it only ever gets worse when you're involved because you were the one person who never even thought about giving up on him until you were given no other choice. It's a very hard thing to forgive himself for but he is trying.

Leslie says he needs to learn to forgive himself, everyone else has forgiven him and that should mean something.

He's trying.

He's trying to forgive himself and be better. He is trying to accept the care and kindness of others without second guessing their motives or when they'll up and leave.

He's trying not to push.

"I..." Jason stutters. "I really miss you." Jason says again, hoping you get it because he can't stand to not have you in his life anymore.

Your face softens as your heart shatters through your chest. You forgave him for everything the second it all happened. Sometimes, you can feel yourself upset about some of it but it's just the grief kicking in again. The grief of everything you both lost the second he made the decision to go to Crane. It is the one decision he has made that you don't understand but you aren't Jason. You weren't Robin. You weren't stripped of the most important thing to you, of your identity. Not like Jason was. And you forgive him anyway because Jason doesn't like to hurt people. Especially people he cares about. Pushing has always been a way to hurt himself, not other people. You forgive him for everything even if he doesn't know it.

You wish it were different so you wouldn't be suffering through the pain of missing each other. It doesn't seem very fair, especially tonight.

You know what he means.

"I really miss you, too." Your voice is honest and Jason thinks you even sound scared, a reminder of how he sounded the first time things got a little too real with your feelings. Those words hold the same meaning that they do for Jason. Everything you're both too scared to say tonight.

You lean forward, resting your forehead on his shoulder and you know your heart will only ever belong to him. It'll always be safe with him. Jason's eyes soften as he looks down at you and instead of making some quip or joke, he lets you sit in the moment. He rests his cheek against your head and all he wants to do is kiss you. This isn't easy for you either.

You lift your head and Jason's eyes are big and green, the prettiest shade of green you've ever seen. He is still the only thing you have ever wanted. He will always be the only thing you'll ever want. And Jason can feel it, too, like an invisible string tugging you together in every universe, in every timeline. You are the only thing he has ever wanted. You are the only thing he will ever want.

Jason hopes you know he feels it, too so he rests his forehead against yours first this time. Your eyes close as your shoulders relax and Jason finally lets out a breath before his eyes close. He'll never ask because that's too soon into whatever this friendship is going to be but he's hoping you stay awhile. Stays past morning tomorrow and into the night. You don't have to talk about any of it, he just wants you to stay and he wants to stay just like this because it's the safest he's felt in two months. And it's like a reflex, embedded deep into his DNA, he brushes his nose against yours as he feels your breath fan over his lips.

You match him but instead, you brush your lips against his. You haven't kissed him in a month and a half yet it feels like it's been an entire century. Kissing him has always washed away every doubt and ounce of sadness you've ever had. Him kissing you has always made you feel wanted, the two of you against the world. That's how it should have been and that's how it should be now. You want to kiss him so badly you think you might burst into tears. Life was always better with him in it. You want to kiss him to show him that even if you can't be together, you still love him with every ounce of your existence.

Jason's head starts to spin and he holds his breath. He's thrown right back to that time in the manor when you told him to prove it. You said it and he never put in a single thought after that. He took the leap and he thinks it was one of the best decisions he's ever made. That kiss sealed your fate together, even for just that short time. It brought you to him in a way he didn't think he'd ever be lucky enough to have. Being with you made him feel lucky for the first time in a very long time.

Maybe you can do this again. Maybe the way for you to do anything is to tiptoe into it. It didn't work last time but it wasn't for lack of trying. It was Jason who fucked it up but it had nothing to do with you and him. Maybe falling back into each other is how it's supposed to be. Maybe you could fix it all. It's just lonely without you. He's terrified but your lips brush over his again and you're making the first move this time. You can still quiet every horrible thought he's ever had. He loves you with every ounce of his very existence.

Jason brings his hand to your cheek, running his thumb over your cheek. Your skin is always soft under his callused fingers. He thought maybe you'd back out because you do that. You run from everything, you back out, it's all a joke and that's that. It would be incredibly painful but...you don't. You lean into him instead. So, Jason finally closes the bit of distance between you and brings his lips to yours.

You smile against him and Jason can breathe again. He can breathe again as you kiss him back and your mouth moves with his. This might be a one-time thing but that's okay because even if it's just for this moment, you choose him. And he chooses you. You will always choose each other. In the chaos of your lives, somehow, you find your way back right here with your hands pulling the collar of his shirt closer to you and his hands on your cheeks. You choose each other anyway. Despite the pain and heartbreak and chaos and all of the terrible, horrible, thoughts, you choose each other. Even if it is just for a moment, Jason decides to take the second leap and he wants this moment to last as long as you will let it. If you'll have him.

Jason moves his hands to your hips, giving them a squeeze before he tugs you closer to him. You get the hint and without breaking the kiss, you move to straddle his lap, Jason guiding you down. His hands squeeze your hips and he tugs you as close to him as possible while your hands find their way to his shoulders and then the back of his neck. Your fingers tangle in the damp hair at the base of his neck. The kiss grows sloppy and desperate, teeth clanking against each other and it is the most cathartic feeling the both of you have had in a long time.

It is healing parts of you both you didn't think possible. Normally, it's Jason questioning your feelings because why would you ever love him after all the damage he's done? But, it's you questioning that as you kiss him with everything in you. You're just like everyone else, why would he forgive you for that? Why would he kiss you like he's still hopelessly in love with you? You broke a promise to him and he's still here and you have no idea why. But, tonight, you're going to allow yourself to be thankful. All that matters right now is that you're here, together, just him and you.

Jason swears you have left a permanent make spelling out your name across his heart and Jason wouldn't have any other name in your place. And a part of him thinks you know, too. It's as if it glows and heats up the center of his chest whenever you're around. It's like his heart becomes a beacon of light on the top of a lighthouse the second you kiss him. You make him feel alive again and he doesn't have to feel so alone when you're here.

You feel so at home with him. Every piece of paranoia that's been coursing through you fades away and you know, without a shadow of a doubt, with Jason you're safe. After everything, he will always protect you. You will always protect him. You're tied together even if you don't want to admit it to each other. You've ruined each other for anyone that would ever come after and the both of you have never been so thankful.

Jason pulls away, his chest heaving as his eyes open slowly. Your eyes meet his slowly, pupils lust-blown and you have a loving and lazy smile spread across your lips. He thinks he could do this all night long.

He gains his signature smirk. "Did I win that time?" Jason's eyes glance to your lips.

You deadpan and shake your head. You expect absolutely nothing less from him. "Shut the fuck up."

Jason lets out the warmest chortle you've ever heard. "That's a yes."

"Just shut up and kiss me." You groan before colliding your lips with his.

You can feel him grin wildly against your lips before he falls right back into rhythm with you.

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[emojellyace08]

Hi! Big fan of your oneshots. Can I request a female Gojo x lookism men characters. Where Gojo dies and is reincarnated into the popular webtoon Lookism but "HE" became a "SHE". Gojo being gojo causes mayhem wherever she goes and rizzing people especially teasing the students at J-high because she is now their teacher. And Gojo is more chaotic than Goo and I imagine her saying to Gun, "I'm the strongest". Since he reincarnated as a girl and in a world without curse energy he doesn't have any CE but he is still super strong just like the OP characters in the webtoon especially since he's an expert in the martial arts. He still has the six eyes but not as OP and draining he just can see really well than the average person.

Female! Gojo Reader x Lookism Cast!

𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 (𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐥). 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 (𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐲) 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬,𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝)

In the world filled with infinite possibilities, you wouldn't expect to end up in another universe. You, one of the most (if not) powerful sorcerer in the whole world ends up dying in the hands of Sukuna. And you wouldn't expect to get reincarnated in an ordinary world without curses. Well, that's what you thought at first.

You were first confused at how did you turn into a baby. But lucky for you, your family is part of one of the most wealthiest and powerful Yakuza in Japan. Growing up, you were confused about your identity. Asking your mom if you really turned into the opposite sex. "Ma, can I ask you something?" "Sure darling, what's the matter?" she asked with a sweet tone as she prepares your meal. "Am I really a girl?" "Well, physically you are a girl. But if you feel like not fitting with the other little girls, it's okay if you like masculine toys. But inside of you must be always genuinely kind and is ready to help others without wanting anything in return."

You may still have the familiar sapphire blue eyes, hair fluffy like clouds, skin white as snow, and your personality intact with your female body, you still can't help but to feel weirded out in your early life. Without your powers, you felt the familiar feeling of dread linger through your soul. All the training and physique were wasted because of that monster! But you forced your dad to teach you martial arts. He almost scolded and beaten you up for "disobeying" his rules as you are not fitted to replace his heir. Feeling that familiar burst of pride in your heart that wanted to explode and lash out to him and knowing to yourself that you have LOTS of experience in your past life as a Jujutsu Sorcerer, you trained yourself for years to prove your own father wrong and show him who really is the weak one. Time-skip ahead, you successfully graduated and hired as a teacher for Physical Education knowing that you are body-kinesthetic.

You made your way into the school hallways with your bag. Instead of books for your lessons that you will discuss about, it's filled with sweet treats (and some lip balms to keep yourself ✨sexy, gorgeous, and daring✨. You remember high-school days when many teenage boys at your age often fight outside your house when they used to court you. "Sorry, I'm not attracted to men and girls are really scary! Sheesh people are so cheesy these days!"

Knowing your instincts, you tend to be a bit too friendly with other people as you are excited to annoy another living soul in this earth today. "He~~LLO!" you greeted quite loudly as the poor guy squeaked in surprise at your presence. "WUAH FUCK! Oh, shi- I'm sorry sunsengnim!" (teacher). "Oh, NO WORRIES PAL. You must be new here, right?" you questioned as you introduced yourself to the new student. "Well, I am (*insert female name here*) and according to every men and women that I had rizzed, I'm the most prettiest and sexiest woman and teacher in this country. Well then nice to meet you." you winked as to express your friendliness as he awkwardly shook your pale hands with his sweaty ones. "Ah, I'm sorry for the overflowing enthusiasm. Let's go to your new class for us to meet them!" you chuckled as you ate your mochi, even offering to share Hyung-Seok but he politely declines.

The moment you and Daniel entered the Fashion Department class, everyone's jaws dropped as it almost hit on the floor for dramatic effect. And you know that you weren't wasting their time when you gave all those candies as prizes by making up a warm-up game before classes begins as they are already fond of you! The other boys trying to impress you as you platonically tease them even though you have no romantic attraction on them. And the GIRLS WOULD LOVE YOU SO MUCH. Your hair and eyes also makes them fond of you (especially Zoe since she's a Beauty-Nerd). "OMG ARE YOU AN ANGEL OR SOMETHING?!" she squealed as you let her braid her hair as you relaxed on your chair and placed your legs on the teacher's table despite it being against the rules on free time. The others were doing their own shenanigans as you keep telling them to quiet down. "So, you think I'm hot or something? I'm glad you know. Oh Zack stop abusing Jiho's hand it's just arm wrestling!'

And they also enjoy your performance activities too! Since their courses is all about sewing with those mind-twisting history behind it, of course they will get sleepy and stressed out about it. But being the bold and bright-spirited that you are, you know school won't be fun without a little stretch of your body. So you make sure that whatever you teach them sports will be easily followed, yet you tend to forget to uncomplicate the rules since you're pride and confidence gets in the way at times. Sports and a little bit of martial arts (especially with the boys) are so fun! Being competitive, you taught them not only the basic techniques and skills that all can master. But you also thought them discipline when using it as you also sighed to yourself that you can get a bit cocky when fighting too as the adrenaline keeps chasing you to your high when fighting a strong opponent. You can see Daniel, Zack, heck even Jay taking down notes to this. The other departments are also fond with you as they really idolize you as their teacher (especially The Architecture Department).

But despite having your comedic side, it's rest assured that you are not letting anyone slide whoever tries to mess with you or anyone you know or fond with. The bullies will just stare at you cowardly as you look back at them with your striking cerulean eyes yet they seem uncanny because of your menacing expression. "You little fuckers, didn't your parents told you to not disturb anyone in the way?" "WE'RE SORRY SUNGSENGNIM!"

Yet since your family background is REALLY involved with the gangs (and the 4 major crews as you have minor knowledge around it), you started to get involved with the drama. Not only because you want to protect the innocence of your students as you grew fond over them, but because you tend to get a bit bored on teaching and pissing off your co-teachers. You smirked as the thought of fighting strong opponents excites you.

And you're excitement matches up with the sturdy and powerful fighters in this universe. You even helping out your students to bring down some of the most-feared men in Korea like Jonggun and Jungoo. You even got to flirt with them with a moment before you went face-to-face with the two as you declined their offer as they asked you to be their new member for Charles Choi's success.

"Miss, I'll ask you again. Why is it that you don't want to join our team? Are you so worried about leaving your students?" The black eyed male whispered at your ear as crimson-red blood drips down to his chin as you smirked at the bruise you gave him at the side of his lips. "And for a hottie like you, I didn't expect you to be this strong! So why not join us for a million won and even more?!" the blondie exclaimed as he swung his pipe as his weapon of choice. Him looking around at the building with lots of damage done from your fighting. "First of all, that's three questions. And yes, I have no plans to team up with your shitty team since I like hanging out with my students. And lover boy take note of this, I'M GOING TO SHIT ON YOUR FACE BECAUSE I"M THE STRONGEST!" you maniacally laughed as you landed a kick on Shiro Oni's face once again as he's starting to feel aroused excited about the energy that you're giving him. "If so, then LET'S FUCKING KILL EACH OTHER RIGHT NOW!" he ripped his shirt off as he rushed towards you as you did the same with that smile. "OI YOU'RE FORGETTING ME HERE I'M THE MAIN CHARACTER!" Goo replied as he plans to attack you from the back.

[obey-me-disaster]

hey im the gal who requested ya write the whole, mc dies and doesnt come back thing. i just read the first part and i gotta say it was really well written lol. and if you dont mind, could i ask for the side characters' reaction?

thanks :yellow_heart:

I am glad you liked the first part ^-^

Spoilers for lesson 16!!

Warnings: death and description of it, grieving.

Side characters x gn!MC(Luke is of course platonic)

MC stays dead for good

Diavolo

He was aware he was most likely sending MC to their death but he still held onto the hope that they will make it out alive. They have been doing so well until that point, managed to get pacts with over half of the brothers, but unfortunately, fate had other plans for them.

He will beat himself over this whole affair for a long time. Not only did the exchange program failed, but he also let down a friend and led them to their own death.

He got so carried away when MC said they want to prove that Belphegor was innocent that he forgot they were only human. They didn't have a grasp on how to use their magic and pacts.

This failure as both a ruler and a friend will always live in the back of his head. That day he failed multiple people and he was the one that had to tell them there is no saving MC in the end. The only thing worse than the memory of MC's corpse being craddled gently by Mammon were the defeated looks of all the brothers.

Belphegor should count himself lucky he is not killed on the spot. All of Diavolo's hard work went down the drain in one night. It would probably take another 2000 years before he could even attempt peace between the three world again. The only reason Belphegor is only locked up and not killed is because of the brothers. He will have to deal with political fallout that MC's death would bring, he can't deal with the chaos the brothers would rise if he were to kill Belphegor.

Barbatos

He knew this would happen yet he still hoped that MC would make it out alive, there are timelines where they do that after all.

In the end, he didn't get his hopes up and he was grateful for that. The sight of their corpse, the looks on the brother's faces, even the disappointed and sadness on Diavolo's face, he was able to keep his calm demeanor through all of that.

He was the one that dealt with all the details that about proceedings after MC's death. Their families would have to be informed but still hide all of the details about the exchange, Belphegor's imprisonment and standing by Diavolo's side as the consequences begind to follow.

He didn't get the opportunity to get close to MC and for that he was glad. It was easier to deal with their death and the fact that they were never coming back.

The only thing that bothered him is when he would see them happy and healthy in other timelines. That's when all the 'what if?' question would pop up in his mind. But in the end those were not his timelines. He knew better than to indulge in worlds that he did not belong to after living with his powers for so long.

Simeon

He only found out days after MC's actual death but he felt something was deeply wrong even before that. Neither the brothers, nor Diavolo and Barbatos would show up to school and he couldn't reach MC.

When he heard that MC died he thought it was at the hands of a lower demon. He didn't know the whole attic ordeal so that was the only logical explanation at the moment.

When he learned the whole truth, he wasn't sure if he would have preferred to live in ignorance or not. It really shaken his perception of the brothers for a bit, after all he knew Belphie since he was an angel. To find out that the angel that loved humans so much turned into a demon that hated humanity was quite the shock to him.

He insisted to remain for MC's funeral. He wasn't there for their last moments, so he wants to be there when their soul is sent off to the Celestial Realm.

He tries hide how much MC's death hurt him from Luke. He is young and just lost someone, so Simeon tries to be there for him before the tries to work through his feelings.

He really saw MC as someone to cherish and even look up, often times referring to how they would make a better angel than him. To him they seemed so untouchable that he forgot how humans with no control of their magic could be.

Luke

All the progress he made about seeing demons in a better light is gone. He even sees them as bigger monsters than before.

Poor kid really looked up to MC as an older sibling figure so to hear that they have died broke him. Since he wasn't alive through the wars, MC's death was probably the first violent death he had ever have to deal with. Maybe MC the first person in his life to even die.

He is aware that Simeon is pushing his feelings aside for him and he hates but doesn't know how to deal with these knew feelings so he just accepts his help.

Will probably bake MC's favorite deserts in their memory...poor kid isn't really sure on how to deal when loved ones die, especially when they are murdered.

Solomon

If MC died at the begging of the exchange program he wouldn't have been surprised, it's Devildom after all. But not only did they not die, they made 5 pacts with the lords of Hell and managed to sneak their way into his life.

He wasn't expecting that he would get so attached to his fellow human exchange but they did. So when things started to change about the brothers he started to expect the worst.

He knew there would come a day when MC would leave him for good and die, all the people in his life did that but he didn't expect for that time to come so soon. Especially in such a cruel manner.

MC was the one that made him see demons as friends, and while not all the progress is gone he will still need to take some time for himself.

He has done it 1000 times over the course of his life span, he dealt with the death of his loved ones more than he would like yet, it's still never easy to get used to their presence being gone. Especially when it's so out of nowhere.

For quite a while he doesn't even dare to try and make a pact with Lucifer. Is it due to MC's memory, knowing that he won't get a pact in those circumstances? He isn't really sure, he just knows he wants to throw himself into his research to distract himself from the wound MC's death left in his heart.

[saphronethaleph]

Outpatient Procedure

The door opened, and Janice Olken looked up.

“Chris H?” she asked.

“That’s me,” the man agreed, somewhat nervously. “The receptionist told me to come straight here – is that all right?”

“That’s quite correct,” Janice agreed. “My previous appointment cancelled, and we’ve got a lot to go through… take a seat, please.”

She shuffled away the papers she was working on, official forms, then assessed Chris.

“All right,” she said. “This is the last meeting before you’re committed, but it’s the first meeting with me, so I hope you’ll forgive me that we go through some basics.”

“Not a problem,” Chris replied. “It’s taken so long to get here already, I’m quite patient.”

Janice smiled slightly.

“No doubt,” she said, bringing up the man’s file. “Let’s see… all right, I’ve gone over your chart, but I need to confirm a few things. No heart conditions or history of heart conditions?”

“My paternal grandfather died at fifty-two,” Chris answered. “That was a heart attack. My father’s now sixty-eight. No other history of heart problems in the family.”

Janice nodded, confirming that. Chris himself was thirty-one, which was well before the point that even a hereditary problem of the same scale as his paternal grandfather would manifest.

“That’s what I’ve got here,” she said. “And your referring physician said that that shouldn’t be a significant problem… any known allergies?”

“Hayfever, but I manage it with medication,” Chris replied. “Isn’t this on my chart?”

“Like I say, it’s my first meeting with you,” Janice pointed out, not unkindly. “I need to confirm a few details… any other medication that you take on a regular basis, besides hayfever medication?”

“No,” Chris answered. “And before you ask – I don’t smoke, I drink no more than two units a week, and I get about four hours of exercise per week.”

Janice confirmed those matched what was on the chart, then picked up a clipboard and a sheaf of paper.

“All right, Mr. Hall,” she said. “If you could tell me your reason for seeking treatment? In your own words.”

Chris’s gaze flicked up to the diplomas hanging behind Janice’s desk, then he focused on her again.

“Self-affirmation,” he answered, steadily enough. “That’s why it’s taken so long, right?”

“Affirmative treatment does tend to take longer,” Janice agreed. “It’s an abundance of caution, as I’m sure you’re well aware, but it’s considered to be an elective treatment and – while I have my own thoughts on whether it should be categorized the same way as other elective treatment – it’s probably a good thing that permanent body modification is hedged about with certain safeguards.”

“Do you think they’re all medically necessary?” Chris asked, sounding somewhat bitter. “The amount of time I’ve spent on-”

He shook his head, cutting the statement off.

“Sorry,” he added. “It’s just been… frustrating.”

“I understand your position,” Janice said, evenly. “A lot of the people who I see coming into this office have faced the same thing. Count yourself lucky that you passed the psychiatric evaluation.”

“Yeah, that was…” Chris began, then shook his head. “It was an ordeal.”

Janice nodded, slightly, taking some more notes.

“Now, I’m afraid that because of your reason for treatment I need to go through some legally mandated questions and comments,” she went on. “I appreciate that some of them will sound nonsensical. But they are required and there’s not really any getting around that. Even if you’ve heard – and answered – them before.”

She flicked to the second page on her clipboard. “I am required to ask you if you have undergone a period of non-treatment affirmation.”

“Yes, insofar as that’s possible,” Chris muttered. “I’ve got a suit, if that’s what you mean.”

“That is the usual way,” Janice confirmed, with a slight smile. “I know it’s a shame you probably won’t need it any more, given the investment.”

“No, I intend to keep it,” Chris said. “It’s… helped me, and I kind of like the idea of being able to be in public as myself without people knowing.”

Janice nodded, making a mental tick mark.

“I am also required to point out that the proposed treatment is permanent,” she said. “And to ask you if you have considered alternatives.”

Chris stared.

“Even at this point you have to ask that stupid question?” he asked. “It’s been years since I started this process!”

Janice let the shout die away, then tilted her head slightly.

“It’s a legal requirement,” she stressed slightly. “I have to ask these questions. It’s out of my… hands.”

Chris looked down, stifling a sigh.

“Right, right,” he said. “I get it, it’s just… I know it’s the law, but these are stupid laws. Right?”

“I couldn’t possibly comment,” Janice said. “Your answer?”

“I’ve considered alternatives, yeah,” Chris replied. “I wouldn’t be here, two and a half years into this process, if any of the alternatives worked for me.”

Janice made a precise tick mark on her sheet, then turned over another page.

“I am required to read you the following,” she said, then cleared her throat slightly. “The process of therianization is a process that is poorly understood. It is a process that cannot be reversed. Patients who have undergone therianization gain a strong allergic reaction to certain metals, including cadmium, silver and palladium. These metals are commonly found in jewellery and catalytic converters.”

She glanced up at Chris, noting his reaction to the disclaimer, and kept going. “The process of therianization is also recorded to have a high regret rate, with twenty-seven percent of those who underwent the process for bodily affirmation reasons registering their regret in questionnaires after one year and forty-five percent after two years.”

It went on, and on, for almost a page, until Janice finally reached the end, ticked another checkbox, and put the clipboard down.

Chris looked like he was about to explode, but contained himself, and Janice held up a hand.

“I know,” she said. “Having reached the end of what I am legally required to read, I can tell you that most of the statistics included are not statistics that I consider to be true. They are, however, part of the Therianization Medical Use Act, so I have no choice but to read them for you and to confirm that I have read them for you.”

“Well, you’ve done that,” Chris admitted, with a sigh. “I just… why is it so hard to do this?”

“You saw the protestors, I take it?” Janice said, glancing towards the door and the front of the building beyond. “That’s just one reason why.”

“Right, right,” Chris groaned. “It just feels… completely backwards. Does everyone who comes to you have this much trouble?”

It was a rhetorical question, because they both knew the answer, but Janice provided it anyway.

“No,” she said, simply. “They do not. In any case where the treatment is associated with directly saving a patient’s life, instead of improving their mental health, the consent required is… significantly less stringent. But I’m sure Phyllis went over it with you – it’s the kind of thing she does.”

“You know her?” Chris asked, curious.

“Of course,” Janice replied. “As odd as it may sound, there’s not actually all that many Registered Theiran Practitioners in the country – there’s a reason you were referred to me from all the way over in Oxford. I make it a point to at least meet all the physicians who’ve referred patients to me in the past.”

She checked over the notes she’d taken again. “All right, Mr. Hall. That all seems in order… now, before we go through the requirements of what you’ll need to do before the actual surgical appointment, we should probably make sure you have a good appointment slot as soon as possible. Can you do an evening appointment next Thursday?”

“...next Thursday?” Chris said, sounding astonished. “That soon?”

“That’s the day of the full moon,” Janice replied. “If we get everything out of the way today, then I don’t actually need to be able to speak during your surgical appointment… just to be able to bite you.”

She smiled, and this time it had a lupine cast to it. “Though I’m sure you’ll want to familiarize yourself with what I look like then anyway…”

[bubbipond]

I see people still confused about things after the last episode so here are some aspects of the novel that did not make it to the series. It will hopefully fill in some gaps in questions I've seen.

This post contains spoilers. Read at your own risk...

How come some can control their senses and others can't? Babe, Way, and Pete are the only people known to be able to completely control their senses. This is probably because Jeff and Charlie have more chaotic senses. But with the others, the more training they succeeded in the better they got at controlling the senses.

Why did Charlie plan to fake his death? The fake death plan was Jeff's idea in the novel I don't know what the point of changing it was. An important conversation that happens between Jeff and Charlie is that because Way is an Enigma who can hypnotize, he can actually understand someone's thoughts. Not like Pete who reads them but like-I don't know how to explain but basically that's the reason at one point Way tells Babe he knew he loved Charlie before Babe himself. So babe knowing the plan was fake=Way knowing. And Way was still a bad guy at that point.

How would the death plan have helped? Charlie planned to never return to Babe's life initially. He accidentally runs into Babe while going to save Jeff at the auction. He felt bad for the constant lies and felt Babe was better off without him even if they could fool Tony. Plus, even if Charlie did go back, the point was for Reval to remove the senses. Once removed Tony would render them all useless and move on.

Why does Charlie lack the alpha smell? I am positive at some point in the novel it is said that he can mask the alpha smell. I mean he has a bunch of abilities but we don't really see him use them much.

Why did I not get my other pairings? Babe (you babe, not Pavel Babe), you are lucky you got AlanJef cause the only real couple in the novel is Charlie/Babe. Jeff and Alan get hinted at but have no real relationship, Kim doesn't exist in the novel, Kenta is barely in it, and Way is offed so the other ships can't really happen.

Why did Babe always forgive Charlie? He didn't, I mean he did after the fake death plot, but before that, he stayed angry at him for a long time. This was after the sense (all for one quirk) stealing. He actually spends quite some time angry which is why Charlie is against the sewer side plot. But at the end of the day....Babe loves his man and he gone stand beside em'.

Why didn't Jeff use his senses or tell anyone else about his visions? Well 1. he cannot control when and what he sees so even if he touched one of them that didn't mean he would see that specific event. 2. The point of him and Charlie doing all they did with Reval was in hopes of everyone NOT dying. He saw a future where everyone dies so he couldn't pick and choose who this new timeline saved. Hope this answers any of your lingering questions and if you have any I did not touch on just let me know (: It's been a while since I read this but I still remember most key points!

[venriliz]

10 random facts about me

got tagged by @druidberries @alientown @papermint-airplane TY <3

u literally tagged the most boring person but that's probably what half of all people think of themselves, huh? °-° i might regurgitate some of the facts i used for my introduction post in the sims of tumblr community. i wrote a lot so i'll put a cut with the facts below here. °-°

my birthday is the 4th of july and when i was a kid (prolly like 5 or 6) i saw an american parade on the news on tv. after i asked my dad why these people are celebrating he literally told me that they're celebrating my birthday °_° i believed for several years that americans celebrated my fucking birthday bc i wasn't aware of independence day existing lmfao. my dad just loved fooling me V.V he might be dead but i'm still holding that grudge lol.

i'm kinda lucky to be alive i guess? when i was a kid i was hit by a car in what we in germany call "Spielstraße" which is kinda like a street in dense neighborhoods where kids are allowed to play freely and cars aren't allowed to go faster than 7 kph/4.3 mph. i don't now how fast the driver was but it probably was something around 30 kph/18 mph. i didn't have very bad injuries but still °-° i could've died.

i was a typical horse girl as a kid (i still like horses but i'm not riding anymore because i'm a very old 20-something with knee problems lol) and i was fucking INSUFFERABLE abt it.

i don't want to have kids or get married. i'm not one of those people who hate children like i love my nieces and my nephew BUT i have a lot of mental health issues and can't possibly take care of another life if i can barely take care of myself properly, right? marriage to me is just a weird concept. i can totally respect people getting married and if i'm invited to a wedding i'm obviously attending but i personally can't really subscribe to the idea of binding myself to someone with a piece of paper and it then being such a stupid process when it doesn't work out. also... it costs too much money lol

i have kind of an affinity for finding missing pets (i also photograph every missing poster i see so i guess that helps with recognizing them?)

i was NOT good at school like i kinda sucked and i can probably blame a mixture of mental health issues, trouble at home and also being a lazy teenager that just wasn't really built for school life lol. i barely managed to get the "Mittlere Reife" (if you're german u know what i mean. i could explain what that means but explaining the german school system would take years). english, german and biology were my only good classes. i absolutely hated math like we're lifelong enemies.

speaking of germany, i am from germany or to be more specific from the most northern region nearest to the danish border and i LOVE living here. the north and baltic sea are close to me and people here are usually quite chill. the only thing i don't like that much abt living here is kind of the regional cuisine bc a lot of it is fish and i don't like eating fish T.T

i HATE going shopping (i'm an online shopper °-° EMP my beloved) and my friends just don't take me with them on shopping trips bc they know i'll kill the mood by complaining like a child and wanting to go back home lmfao

the first sims game for me was the og Sims and i almost fried my dad's old ass pc playing it. my first vivid memory of the game was noticing that here and there random houses appeard out of seemingly nowhere. the goths got a new house that didn't fit their vibe for example lol. years later my dad told me that he used to play the game when i was sleeping and just built these houses lmfao. so i guess my dad was an og simmer oO.

i remember 9/11 (yes i'm old enough don't age shame me T.T). i was in kindergarten at that time and just came home from a friends house when the towers fell. i saw it on tv and even though i was very young i understood that a lot of people were getting hurt. definitely had an impact on me as a kid.

yeah that's it. i rambled a lot but yeah °-°

tagging @landgraabbed @olli-online @living-undead @moonwoodhollow @microscotch @crazy-lazy-elder-sims @aniraklova @tiallussims @skaterboi108 @faerun-s @cristalviper @none-of-these-days @fadingforrest @acuar-io @elderwisp @lilamausmaus @simpleratattack @azeterna @butteredfrogs @mmonetsims and everybody else who reads this! HA!

[carnalhaus]

american tradition: forge of the cyclops

subscribe to the substack here.

It was rare that Sledge ever knew what he was crying about. He kept a mental checklist when he was sober enough. Enid’s red hair was growing back in. The cat rubbed on his leg. He realized he didn’t know how to braid. Now is one of those rare times where his pupils are the size they’re supposed to be, not too big or too small. Praline made a habit of checking. Speaking of which, there she was. 

The two of them are on the floor of the kitchen. That’s to say, the kitchenette of the single-wide trailer they holed up in after the previous owner died. They shouldn’t have made a habit of it, but they did. Finding obituaries is getting pretty easy nowadays, thanks to the internet. The overhead light flickers, but they’re lucky the lights are still on in this place at all. They’re all very lucky people, because Sledge is lucky his crying isn’t waking up the whole damn house. 

This time, he’s crying about guilt. He makes sure to catalogue that while he cries. That ugly thing that eats at his heart once a month, whenever the lights turn low and the girls count sheep. Truth be told, he’s the only one who thinks about those years anymore. Praline is always too busy asking what’s for dinner, and Enid only cares about sneaking the smokes from his jean pockets. They whine and laugh just like they always did, kicking the back of his seat in the car and flinging food at him while Stat goes to grab another beer. The world has moved on without him, and he’s still there, bowing and scraping in the mud for forgiveness. 

Most people say you should feel guilty for the rest of your life. Some people say it’s more selfish to keep groveling after you’re already forgiven.

Maso-fucking-chistic. 

Sledge is doing some stupid babbling like usual when he cries. Same old wash and rinse of ‘I love you and I’m sorry’ that went on for an hour at a time every full moon. Praline was never very savvy on human connection, so her face is contorted into an angry frown, the closest thing to sadness and concern she can muster. She looks pissed, even through the blur of his tears. The dull acrylics digging into his shoulders aren’t helping much. 

She presses her forehead to his, clumsy and rough like she’s trying to give him a concussion, and through his tears she’s now a cyclops. Two eyes fashioned into one big watery mirror. He can barely see his reflection, the curve of his sunken cheekbones blacked out in ink. The untamed hair on the nape of his neck is tangled in her fist, holding him there like she’s got a handle on some mustang’s mane. And just like one, he’s wild and afraid. Whale-eyed. 

“I am the only thing you care about,” she says it like a mantra, and in a way it’s true. “So quit it. Quit killing yourself because you think I should be doing it for you. You are so self-fucking-righteous.” 

It feels like she’s talking him off a ledge. He knows better than anyone else that a curse from her mouth is a beg and a plead. Gone and did it again, he did. Spooked so bad she’s trying to tug on his lead rope and control his head. That’s all she knows how to do. Control, control, control. Praline’s scared, even if she wont admit it. She’s holding her breath.

His hand can’t reach her neck to feel her pulse and he’s not sure he wants it to. He doesn’t want to risk scraping her collarbone or her shoulder, those were the worst parts. The ones he had the worst memories of having to hold so hard he thought they’d crumble. So he reaches up to feel it on her wrist, wrapping around the bones and feeling over the veins. Touching her feels too similar to pulling apart a warm rotisserie chicken. Really, it does. Bones and all. That’s why he always hated it, ever since he met her. He has to hold back some bile.

“Screw your head back on,” she says. It’s through her teeth, eyes wide, and her head presses harder into his. Sledge is gonna have a headache later, whether it’s from all the crying or Praline trying to give him the iron claw. He can’t blame her. He’s being fucking annoying and being rough is all she knows. He counts the beats from her radial artery, blood rushing in his ears to drown everything else out. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, zero, zero, nine, nine, zero, nine, nine, zero, nine, nine.

“I’m screwed,” he finally chokes out. Dumb, but he says it, and he finally gasps in a shaky breath. For a second, she doesn’t believe him. Nobody really would. But that pressure eases off his cranium and her claws snake out of his hair. He’s breathing alright, a little hiccup here and there, but it usually doesn’t get any better than that anyway. Praline sits back on her knees, and Sledge stays hunched over with awkward limbs like some marionette. Feels like he just got punched in the nose, pain radiating from his forehead down to his eye sockets. 

It’s only now that he sees the flakes of mascara under her eyes, the kind that said it was waterproof on the package when she picked it up. No longer a cyclops, just some girl sitting with him on the linoleum. She’s got her Betty Boop pajama pants on, seam busted at the thigh, inseams too short on her ankles, and it makes him wanna cry even harder seeing her look like such a kid. Sledge keeps a loose hand on her wrist and she lets him, holding her arm out like she’s waiting for an IV. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, zero, zero, nine, nine, zero, nine, nine, zero, nine, nine. 

“Don’t do that no more,” and her voice is a little more wobbly this time when she speaks to him. “I hate when you do that, when you go and cry. I don’t know what to do, Sledge.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” is the first thing that tumbles out of his mouth in a while, instinctual and pathetic. Sounded like the little bleat of a lamb, it did. Praline doesn’t like that answer, so her eyes harden up and she cocks her head into his line of vision. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” she repeats. The way she throws his words back in his face is probably the nicest slap she’ll ever give him, and it makes him choke out a little sob. “But you’re still here anyway, cause you don’t know when to fuckin’ quit, n’ maybe I don’t either.”

They go quiet after that. Not much else to say, and neither of them were ever very book smart. Lini got held back cause she couldn’t read a damn thing when she was real little. A few sniffles fill the prolonged silence, and he’s not sure how much time passes. Praline’s dull nails run over his forearm. Not gentle, not soothing, just tracing over the sharp curves of his tattoo like a toddler cutting with safety scissors. Bored and unpracticed. The time for being sentimental has passed. She scrunches up her nose and tugs at a few blonde arm hairs, and Sledge thinks it’s the Cain instinct when he wants to hit her in the jaw. Eventually he settles for smacking her hand away, and she does the same damn thing. Couple of idiots they were, always acting like they grew up in a chicken coop together. 

“Ice cream?” Is all Praline says. Sledge has to blink at her like an idiot a few times before it clicks in his brain. That’s what he always asks her about when she gets upset. Ever since her and Enid were younger, he’d always ask about some stupid ice cream when they’d cry, like it would fix everything. Maybe it did, if she’s asking now. 

They only had a half eaten pint, so she put a scoop each into two pebbled plastic cups they stole from a diner, and topped it off with some coke. A little warm still, they only popped the cans in the fridge an hour ago. Sledge took up residency on the couch and he watched her the whole time, cooing about how sweet she was and trying not cry again. He tells her she’s so fancy-schmancy making a coke float for him and she tells him to shut up cuz it’s gonna foam up if she can’t concentrate.

When she joins him on the couch, he puts his legs in her lap and she locks them in with her elbows. It’s times like these where he doesn’t feel like the oldest kid. Praline isn’t sixteen anymore. There’s no baby fat cushioning her sharp cheekbones, and she hasn’t gotten that stubborn pimple on her chin in years. But when he looks at her too long, he still sees a kid breaking her ankles in her mom’s clubbing heels.  Clumsy and unpracticed, like a baby deer learning how to walk. He’d seen her walk miles in those stupid shoes, though. Maybe she was getting older. 

Coke floats damn good. Not quite rootbeer, but this is how they did it in the good ol’ days. That’s what his father always said. Floats came from Philly, in his humble home state of Pennsylvania. He didn’t know what the hell his dad was talking about half the time with that Philly bullshit, cause he was from Pittsburgh. It’s dead quiet, and this is the point where he starts feeling embarrassed. How old is he now? Thirty, almost? But Praline doesn’t look twice at him. Doesn’t curl her lip or shrug him off. She’s too focused on licking the ice cream foam off her top lip. Speaking of which, she drank that thing quick. She burps and he knees her in the ribs, just enough to make her hit him on the shin. Like always, she gives him that laugh, something between a giggle and a snort. 

That bunny smile she gives him is refreshing, and it gives him the courage to crack one too. Endorphins were finally hitting, better than any heroin he tried. Usually that euphoria just ended with vomiting on her shirt. 

“Your face is gon’ get all puffed in the morning from bawling your damn eyes out,” she starts, and she’s already swinging his legs off of her lap to go scramble over to the freezer again. “Gotta ice it.”

Sledge doubts it’ll help, cause nothing she tries ever really does. But he lets her, and he can’t help but scrunch his face up and squeal a little from how cold it is. Like a girl, she says, and he tells her to stop being mean. That only does so much, cause then she drops the rest of the ice cube down the front of his shirt.

[foxypiquero]

The Longsword, I Want to Learn the Longsword

What they don't want you to know about HEMA is....

...that we're all figuring it out. Some of us since the 80s and 90s, some of us in the 2020s. Its an uphill fight for both teachers and students. As a coach, we have to crush dreams about the reality of what we teach, that arming sword and shield (as people understand it in pop culture) doesn't exist as far as most text goes and we are doing experimental archeology to get somewhere close to it. Like having to tell people that karate isn't action movies and flying kicks. They show up once and get bored. Now that I got the sad stuff out the way, let me help you get started in figuring it out. I am gonna assume that you either don't have a near by club or you don't have the money to attend.

Remember this is a sport, its a workout, but also its very young. Some people have studied most of their lives in this by now. A lot of people are the equivalent of a black belt for lack of a better word. But they aren't everywhere. First thing you'll need is to find out what you want to do and a friend to do it with. If you're lucky, you aren't interested in rapier and you can get a book, a pair of fencing masks, and make some LARP grade boffers and be off to the races. Rapier people I am sorry but you're going to need modern fencing jackets, gloves, and pants at minimum. So lets give you the menu on the longsword, basically you have Italy and Germany that quite literally wrote the books on the subjects. England and France don't have much and is side project after you learned the basics. With that said:

I want to learn:

The most popular thing: Liechtenauer / Pseudo-Peter Von Danzig

This is the meta. The most popular and the most amount of info you will find on longsword usually is about this guy's style from the other guy's book. Liechty wrote a poem for his students to keep his teaching committed to memory and his students and students' students wrote books explaining the poem. Cuts, thrusts, and chivalry abound.

Gritty street fighting, knight style: Fiore de'i Liberi

This one is as much martial art as it is fencing. Don't grapple or kick people as you're learning it. Your partners are not replaceable, do not break them. Fiore is popular and prefers the fundamentals add in some medieval Krav Maga and you get the picture.

The cool stuff like on TV: Joachim Meyer

This is my style! Meyer writes in the end days of the longsword. People still carried it for self-defense but the saber and rapier were starting to take center stage. His book teaches you everything; from how to throw your first basic cuts, to how to move, to scaring away opponents and drunk brawlers with weapons out with moves you'd see out of a action flick. Thrusts were nearly illegal for self-defense so he tells you to read the rapier chapter and take what he taught you there and stick it on to longsword if you really need it.

Hipsterise me: Philippo di Vadi or Paulus Hector Mair or Bauman

Bauman is actually the name of the guy who compiled the Bauman Fechtbuch (fightbook). The style in there is different than most German sources because it doesn't come from Liechty. Mair is a guy in the same tradition.

Vadi is on the shorter end as far as longsword goes but has been growing in attention. He's part of the Italian traditions and while he isn't as gritty as Fiore he's certainly not afraid of using the point and pommel and making you look dumb for even getting into a fight.

Most of these are available for free thanks to the community translators at: wiktenauer.com

[great-and-small]

hey i know this is really heavy but... My pet of 13 years was put to sleep yesterday morning and I was wondering if you have any tips on handling the loss and absence of him. My whole family is struggling really hard and I would appreciate it.

Anon I have been thinking about how to answer this and what words of comfort I can offer you in this time of grief. I have held the hand of so many people through the death of their pet and still I oftentimes find myself at a loss for words. It’s something I think about a lot, so I’m sorry that this is quite long-winded.

I was driving my grandmother to a doctors appointment a few weeks ago and she was telling me about her first dog, a Boston terrier named Guppy that she’d had since she was 8 years old. She told me that during her first year in college she received an unexpected phone call from home out of the blue. In those times, phone calls were expensive and you really only got an unscheduled call when a relative or loved one had passed away. She told me that as she was walking to the room to take the call she had prayed to God that the news on the other end of the line would be the death of her own grandmother, rather than the now geriatric Guppy who had been sick for some time. It was a call about Guppy of course, and my grandma told me she’s been guilty her whole life for wishing that a family member had died instead. She told me that she was intentionally sharing this story with me because she didn’t want me to ever feel guilty if I grieve the loss of my dog more than I do her death someday. She told me that the love of a pet is something different, and losing it hurts in a different way.

This was a morbid story with a morbid sentiment (though entirely in character for my grandma) but it got me thinking about the nature of our grief for pets. They are such constants in our lives that in many ways losing them can be harder to bear than the loss of someone who matters to you in a completely different way. My grandma didn’t love her dog more than she loved her relative, it’s just a different type of grief.

Do not let anyone (including yourself) minimize your loss, because your pet was here, they were important, and your love for them mattered immensely.

So now let me say this; I am so happy that your pet was able to spend 13 years with a family that loved and treasured them. I hope for every single one of my patients to have that safety and warmth and affection, your pet was lucky to be so dearly loved. That said, here are some little things that I will recommend to people who ask me for help in dealing with the loss of their companion.

Take things one day at a time. This sounds like a cliche and maybe it is one but I found it helped me. Try not to think about the future without your pet, but focus on getting through the day, especially in the short term after the loss. Take care of yourself and your physical needs as much as you can.

Actively grieve your pet. By this I mean, dealing with grief is hard work that cannot be ignored or put aside. Rather than shying away from memories of your pet, take the time to purposefully think about them and the life they shared with you. It hurts and it sucks so much, but there is no shortcut through it.

Memorialize your pet. This can be anything, but try to find a way to honor your pet’s memory. Make a painting, or volunteer at an animal shelter for a day, donate old blankets to a vets office in your pets name, make a rock garden, buy a fruit tree and plant it somewhere, put together a photo collage of your pet. Doing little things like this helped me more than anything else when I was grieving my dog.

Talk about them. It seems so dumb but I swear it helps. Talk about what they were like when they were little, what funny things they did to make you laugh, what it meant to have them by your side through all those years. It doesn’t have to be a therapist, but find someone kind who can listen to the stories about your pet that made them who they were.

And most of all please know that someday (maybe not soon, but someday) it will hurt less. In the meantime please be kind to yourself as much as you can.

[secretlythepits]

Welcome to the World of Clinical Trials!

It’s a veritable casino where you bet the last good days of your life to hopefully get more. The odds are stacked against you, but you might be the lucky one! You might get the miracle! You almost certainly will not… but… but… winner takes all!

Door Number 1:

A blind randomized study with a promising drug. There is a 50/50 you won’t even get it. You will have to travel a 4 hour car ride every 2 weeks to get it. Or get nothing. Hopefully cancer charities can help ameliorate the costs of travel, but probably not 100%. Logistics for getting kids to and from school will be reliant on others.

Doors Numbers 2 and 3.

Honestly, you don’t completely understand them. They seem like midline therapies. Every 3 weeks. One has some similarities to a drug that didn’t work for you. Another is opposite. Maybe? You aren’t quite sure. There are side effects. They say they are only about 10% of chemo, but who knows? Again, all these are a 4 hour drive away.

Door Number 4

A vaccine for the virus that caused your cancer. It’s different than the one available to people younger than you. This is the first human trial. It will not attack the cancer, but maybe disable this virus that serves as the engine behind the cancer. You feel great now, so stable disease is attractive. However, this study is hard to get into and you can’t get a slot until the Feb. 17. How much will your cancer grow in the meantime? It’s 2 visits 28 days apart. Just a vaccine shot and wait around 6 hours to monitor. Again, 4 hours away.

Door Number 5

Is probably locked to you. It’s a monotherapy so if you are one of the 5-8% of the population that has this protein, you can get it. Did well in European trials, adding months and sometimes a year to life. Again, 4 hours away, but probably not even an option.

There is a possibility of doing one trial and then switching to another later. In some cases. But the truth is, your cancer is aggressive and time wasted in the wrong trial might be all the time you have.

Do you bet it all and hope you get the promising drug in Door 1, knowing you might not even get it? Lately, you have not been lucky. The schedule tethers your remaining life to this treatment in another city. It might not even work. It might mean bad side effects. Is the life it could extend going to even be worth it (meaning time to really live and enjoy life, not a couple extra months spent in treatment)? But, could this be the breakthrough drug that changes everything?

Winner takes all. Loser loses all.

*****

What I have learned by reading through endless medical publications is that what a lay person considers an amazing breakthrough is very different than what an oncologist does. As a regular jane, I am not impressed by 2 extra months. I also think those months might be miserable because cancer treatments usually are. 3 months of regular life is a lot better than 5 months of being in treatment. Doctors, on the other hand, are excited by anything that moves the needle. They think globally and see those two months as progress. They see the promise it is leading to, while we just see the individual life ending.

The research doctor called us after hours to give us a rundown of the studies. It was a surprise. He sent an email with descriptions for us to look over. Our real appointment with him is a Thursday zoom, but he wanted us to be informed. I so appreciate that, because it’s a lot more complicated than we thought. So many factors to consider.

These options, to blow on the dice and take a gamble, are a blessing. I think of those who already died who never had a chance. I also know that this is the way medicine moves forward. But they are also a burden. The stakes are so high.

The house always wins.

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #319

Brain Curds are lightly edited daily writing - usually flash fiction and sometimes terrible on purpose.

Thanks for letting us be frank with you. Read the rest of The Frank Program here on Tumblr!

“Welcome back to The Frank Program -”

“Wait, Daryl, hold it.”

“What is it, Mike?”

“Last night, the phone wouldn’t stop ringing. I went to take it off the hook and I heard someone breathing. And shivering.”

“So?”

“He knows where I live, man!”

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “You’re paranoid.”

“Am not!”

“Well, it’s me he doesn’t like, so just let it go.”

“Oh…” Big Mike gripped his head on both sides. “Oh, man! You’re in danger, dude! I gotta call the cops!”

Daryl scowled. “It can wait. Ahem…” Daryl took a deep breath and put on a smile. “Welcome back to The Frank Program, where today we have another very special guest. If you’re the type of person who listens to this podcast, you’ve probably heard of her: Adult entertainer extraordinaire, Alaska James!”

She smiled and leaned into the microphone. “Hey everybody.”

“Thank you so much for being here, Miss James.”

“It’s a pleasure.”

“Speaking of pleasure, what’s it like working in your industry? Is it fun, or is it as miserable as some uptight folks might have us believe?”

“Uh… I’m sorry, aren’t you a teenager? I’m not sure I should be talking about this…”

“Oh, no need to be concerned. Calling in this episode is my father, the original host, Frank. So I’ve got parental supervision.”

“Howdy, Miss Alaska.” Frank’s fuzzy voice piped through the mixing board. “We’re both big fans. Can’t speak for Mikey, though.”

Mike blushed. “I, uh… I was married until recently. So I didn’t… partake in your form of… performance.”

“Christ, Mikey, ya can say the word ‘porn’. It’s an internet show. Now, Missy, you can stop actin’ like an ‘are you 18’ pop-up and start talkin’.”

“Um… Okay then.” She brushed her hair back. “Well, I will say a lot of people tend to look down on sex workers. They either think we’re dirty, or we’re taking the easy way out, but it’s hard work. We aren’t just having sex, we’re actors.”

Frank chuckled. “Not the best actin’ I ever seen if I’m bein’ honest.”

“Oh yeah? You try making it look like you’re having an orgasm five takes in a row. We have ten, twelve hour shoots some days. It’s exhausting. The money is good, but not great. You know? I live in an apartment with two roommates just like anyone else who works for a living.”

“Hot. Tell me, Missy, how often do ya ‘rehearse’ with your sexy roommates?”

She scowled. “My roommates aren’t in the business. They’re a cashier and a mail woman. And all three of us come home every day sore from work, but the difference is that I had fun doing it. Who’s really selling their body here? I may not be able to walk the day after a long, hard shoot, but they’re the ones who’ll be in wheelchairs when and if they get to retire.”

“Oh, shit, Daryl!” Mike laughed. “You caught us a live pinko, right by her pinko!”

Daryl sighed. “Quit the name-calling, Dad. She’s right. The economy is fucked.”

“Not just the economy, the whole system.” Alaska leaned on the desk. “I’m lucky that I enjoy my work. Not everyone does. And not to throw stones, but… Chuck Tangent just bought the website where I get half of my income.”

“VideoBox?” Daryl raised an eyebrow. “The subscription-based media site known mostly for hosting independently produced pornography?”

Mike leaned on his hand. “I’m pretty sure everyone listening knows what it is, kid.”

“The same,” Alaska nodded. “He says it’s not profitable enough as-is so he wants to turn it into a YouTube competitor for conservatives and ban all porn. He’s even changing the name.”

“Why’d he buy it if he doesn’t want to keep the user base or the name?”

“Because he’s an asshole, probably. And I’ve seen a lot of them.” She gulped. “Oops, sorry. I know you guys like him. But VideoBox is important to me and I hope so-called ‘VidBo’ dies a horrible death.”

“Hmm.” Daryl leaned back in his chair. “Maybe we should get Chuck in here and see what he has to say to defend himself.”

Alaska began breathing heavily. “Oh, oh god, is he here?”

“No…” Daryl looked at her with sympathy. “Did he do something to you?”

“Uh…”

Frank cleared his throat. “I think we ought’ drop this line of inquiry, son.”

“But…”

“Let it go.”

Daryl frowned and gritted his teeth. “Sure thing, Dad. I guess that’ll wrap up today’s episode.” He saw the pain hidden in Alaska’s eyes and grew determined to find the truth, regardless of what his father wanted. It wasn’t right to pull his punches and let jerks like that get away with their crimes. “This has been The Frank Program. Thanks for letting us be frank with you… especially when it counts. See you next time.”

Please comment, reblog, like, and follow if you enjoyed - I'd love to know what you think! See you again tomorrow.

[itstimetojellyfish]

Ocean tides .( Navia x reader)

WEEEEEEEE

You were only an oceanid from Liyue ,you never really considered going to Fontaine , your homeland, it seemed too stuffy .

Yet … your mother said otherwise , she made you walk across the dry dessert of Sumeru , where you don’t exactly thrive in , and go to Fontaine, just to grab a few bottle of tainted water from other water constructs to heal her .

Apparently this blond traveler keeps destroying her again and again , her water constructs are made from apart of her , so each time they beat her , you have to give her tainted water to get her back to health .

But the water construct you stumbled upon in Fontaine , wasn’t the usual small ones , instead , it was at least 2 feet taller than you…

As you tried to scoop a bit of its body structure into your bottle , you ended up getting whacked to the side , losing consciousness, the last thing you saw was blond hair and an umbrella?…..

~~~~~~~~~~~~🪼

It was quite some time before you woke up , and when you did you saw a metal roof and… blue eyes?

The blond woman looked at you and then smiled ,” Oh! You’re awake ! How are you feeling? You’re quite lucky I managed to get to you in time , otherwise you would’ve been beaten to a pulp by the legend!”

You stare at the gorgeous girl , before asking “ Wait… where am I?… who are you?..”

She blanks for a moment before smiling at you and saying ,” My name is Navia ! The president of The Spina di Rosula, you’re currently in possion.”

You blink slowly , and then say,” do you … have any food by chance?”

Navia stares at you before smiling brilliantly and saying ,” You don’t have any allergies by chance?”

You look at her with a curious expression before replying with ,” No , none that I know of .”

She gives you grin before asking for a stove , some flour , almonds , and sugar . You watch as people in black , sleek suits scramble around her as she starts to make something .

After 45 minutes , there’s a plate of fresh macarons in front of you , mango , pistachio and strawberry , your outside in the evening sun in a lush green field .

She places her arms on the table and looks at you expectantly, “ Go on! Eat some!”

You look at her with a nervous look in your eyes before bringing one of the macarons up to your mouth and taking a small nibble .

Next thing you know your devouring the rest of the macarons because they’re just so delicious!! The texture of the macaron was soft and delicate and the filling was just so creamy and sweet!

The shell of the macaron broke softly and was just so fluffy! You absolutely loved these macarons, you never even thought they tasted this good

All the while Navia is just staring at you with a soft look , sapphire eyes shinning in the evening sun.

She whispers.

“ How lovely …”

Yep! My second Genshin fic!

[figbian]

this year had like. a handful of bad things. however this handful of bad things were pretty overwhelmingly bad. i went to four funerals this year. but that said a lot of really good things happened this year, too. a lot of love came my way & i met + got to know some pretty amazing people. i made a lot of new friends this year, friends i really really really like! i got to know some older friends better, which makes me extremely happy as well. i started a new job. my students are pretty cool. someone loved me enough to take me to the beach on wednesday evenings if i was sad, & call me every morning at around 6:15am to wake me up so i wouldn’t keep snoozing my alarms, & even though he’s gone that still means a lot to me. there has been a lot of kindness directed my way this year. when drew died, our fridge filled up with food from friends for weeks. people told me about their visits from him, the donkeys, the dream as rosa. my friend, when he heard the news, bought & dropped off black tea because he knew it was my favorite kind to drink. people sat in silence with me so i wouldn’t be alone. one of his friends lent me a copy of his favorite books even though we’d only spoken twice—and the second time was when i told him the news. my brother took the train up from new york to attend the memorial of someone he’d never met but would have really liked. i have regularly scheduled grief play dates—last was grief trivia, next up grief karaoke. even beyond the grieving there was so much kindness. my roommate made me a zine full of recipes for breakfast because i’m bad at eating breakfast. my friend admitted recently she keeps energy bars in her car for me. someone texted me that she’d heard so much about me from my gf + our mutual friend that she’d like to get coffee. someone else invited me to her thanksgiving even though we’d only spoken a few times because she wanted to be better friends. i’m going to pickle apples in the new year to try and make a salsa for a new friend who can’t eat onions or garlic. i see them + another friend every thursday for dinner. there are gay brunches & house parties to plan where i have too many people i want to invite and my roommates say no. a friend was so reminded me of me she bought me a pair of earrings. another friend did the same thing months later. someone else made me earrings from their spare beads. there’s so many weird earrings to collect. there are more recipes to try. there are so many books to read. there’s snow. there’s forehead kisses from my girlfriend. there’s pickles & fresh fruit & sewing projects & arts + crafts nights & spring to look forward to. what i’m trying to say is that even though i’m really sad i’m also really happy & even that is hard but i am trying to live with both. the presence of one does not mean there’s the absence of the other. i wish he had wanted to live, but he didn’t. i have learned most of all this year that sometimes you have to respect the choices other people make, even when they’re irreversible and you disagree and they hurt. maybe especially when. but i have also noticed this year how much i love my life. i feel very very very lucky all the time, despite the bad. i want a very weird 2025. i want a “this was not on my list of possibilities, but i’m not mad; in fact, i’m quite pleased” 2025. i know 2025 is going to be hard. but i want there to be weird joy. i hope i will continue to be lucky enough to make some.