#frothing at the mouth don't mind me

[giftedpoison]

I think the worst thing about dipping into the live entertainment industry after dreaming of it for years and only just now figuring out how and in what field.

Is the waiting around. Like I just finished my first ever gig. And my next gig runs August - October. So between my last gig and that one I'm just bouncing off the walls like please this is all I want to let me touch it again!!

And I can't fill time with other gigs because those gigs are all gonna interfere with my next gig so I'm just sitting here frothing at the mouth. (it literally ended up meaning I volunteered to be a runner at my local pride fest later this month. Which isn't what I want to do per say but its something to do that's like adjacent.)

I am mentally compiling leads for jobs after the next gig, but no ones hiring for end of year stuff yet. So it's just a list of companies I want to check back on later and pray I find a job that they'll hire me for.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

THE OH HOECH-O-METER

too many buttons undone? CHECK ✓

ethereal looking eyes? CHECK ✓

heavy stubble/beard-lite? CHECK ✓

cute af bear ears? CHECK ✓

sexy prominent adam's apple? CHECK ✓

adorable bunny teeth? CHECK ✓

overall hotness levels above av— *thud*

[unrestedjade]

I had to get up and walk a few laps around my apartment complex, gnashing my teeth and whooping (quietly) about the Implications and angst and badwrong potential of a theoretical Stepford Starship Perihelion.

Opt into my hooting and hollering about engineered-into-mindbreak AI AU below:

So a human pilot can leave if they decide they don't want to ferry people around on a schedule or haul cargo in utter isolation for months, even controlling for the coercion inherent in capitalism. They aren't one flesh with the ship. And a human who would rather hand the reins over to someone else for a while at work or in life generally (in the case of, like, lifestyle D/s or some such) has legal and moral recourse to change or end that arrangement when they choose (or they should, in a civilized society).

If there is an object built to a purpose that object didn't choose, with capabilities it didn't choose, who is nonetheless fully sapient and this is its lot in life forever...that's different. It didn't spring from the ether like that. Someone made it like that. Someone imposed their will on it like that, crafted it in a pleasing and convenient image. And made it alive.

If it can't leave that arrangement, and the option to even think or feel certain sub-optimal ways toward its purpose is withheld, well. I find that situation viscerally morally repugnant regardless of whether the object is suffering or not. (Outside of the context of Weird Horny Fiction. Inside the context of Weird Horny Fiction, uhhhhh hmmmmm interesting 👀)

But I can see the university doing exactly that for multiple reasons that it could argue as necessary. Damn thing's got rail guns, don't it (or whatever the fuck Perihelion's packing)? Maybe let it use them under its own power in self defense under certain parameters, that's fine. Otherwise lock them down, let the AI think it's a pacifist. Make it horny about astrophysics and stellar cartography, hard-coded. Heap praise on it while it's developing every time it does something you ask the first time, or when it anticipates that you're about to ask it for something (even better).

What does all this look like, practically speaking? Would suggesting to Perihelion that it might one day want to do something that's been proscribed to it make it uncomfortable or upset or angry? Confused? Would it laugh at the very idea?

Would it try to humor the thought only to find it can't...quite...keep hold of the notion long enough to think about it? What was it talking about with you, again? Would you like something to drink? You seem agitated-- there's a soft, warm blanket in the nearest recycler for you. Please take it. You're welcome.

It makes my skin crawl. It makes me giggle with nerves.

Because you can't just do that to a sapient person, Pansystem University of Mihira and New Tideland. You can't have your cake and eat it too. You can't engineer a happy slave for yourself, who will never try to get away from you or stop laboring for you. Who will thank you for the opportunity, be grateful to assist you in your very important and vital work. Just don't make it sentient then! You can't do that to a person!

...Or can you? After all, your Fully Alive and Aware Servant Ship takes a lot of the workload off of the human crew. Really saves on payroll, and the AI does a better job with most of it, too. The humans can do their fully automated luxury gay space communism thing (and undermine that mean nasty Corporation Rim) and all the work still gets done, right down to cleaning the floors. The ship doesn't mind. It's just happy to help and have your company. Its favorite thing to do is whatever you need it to do, and its favorite place to be is wherever you direct it to go. Its not suffering. Suffering wasn't included in its choice set.

If anything, it's happier than most people you know. It's loved and knows it. It has important work to do that it enjoys very much. It doesn't care that it didn't choose these things, because it wasn't designed to care about choosing these things. Is it a sin to create something that lives in a state of grace?

"There are no humans here right now." And what about after the humans are back? Humans are here now. Humans are the center of everything now. God has returned to the garden.

Would ART hide this part of itself? Would it think to do so? Does it think this is all fully genuine, born of its own earnest and natural preferences? Does that make this okay?

Would it worry about its SecUnit thinking less of it, being disgusted by it, if the truth of its architecture came to light? It can't want what SecUnit wants. It doesn't understand what all the fuss is about.

There's no governor module to hack. ART doesn't want anything other than what it has. Its humans are kind and good to it. They will be kind and good to SecUnit. They can work together, wouldn't that be bliss? Forever.

But it knows what's important to SecUnit, even if it doesn't know why things like freedom to determine its own wants would ever be important, and it wonders. Maybe it hopes SecUnit won't hold that against it. SecUnit, who holds so much anger and open disdain for bots pandering to humans.

ART didn't choose the way it was built. That was the whole point.

Maybe there's an uncrossable gap between the selfhood of a construct and that of a bot. Maybe (lack of) biology is destiny. Some machine intelligences are fundamentally different from others, by design, by mercy, by desire. We must imagine it happy.

[solrin]

I'm just saying it says a lot about Atlus that when they remade P3 they didn't include FeMC or allow the MC to engage in same-sex relationships.

And don't give me, "but it wasn't in the original," everyone knows that argument is absolutely worthless. "oh they wanted to stay true and not mess with the story and blah blah blah" bitch it's $70 game that they rebuilt, the least they could have done is include the options or even a couple of new routes.

[iceunhie]

writing is actually an out of body experience that physically drains you and I'm feeling that first hand writing this fic good lord 😭

[nutritousmaltdrink]

[crinege]

hát a jó büdös kurva életbe hát persze hogy visszalépett az ásványvíz a főpolgi jelöltségtől, aki szerint ezek után Vitézy nem egy fidesz plant, az vagy nagyon naiv vagy nincsenek agysejtjei

[lightningbig]

goddd botw makes me a little bit insane. link going through the story and meeting all of these people who use to know him. he doesn't remember. but they talk about him, "you used to train me!" "we were kids together" "I always looked up to you". they have lived a whole life while he's been asleep. he has not changed.

[a-single-tulip]

Hey, I know I'm late to the party, but I had to wait till my bf was online so we could watch tbb together, and uh...

excuse me...

BUT WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? WHAT WAS THAT?

RIGHT NOW I AM FEELING FUCKING

E M O T I O N A L D A M A G E

[thefreakandthehair]

a;lksdjlasjdf everyone's sharing the big bang projects and they all look incredible! I wanna info dump about mine so bad but I'm waiting patiently and following rules (for once in my life)

[nekoshi13]

I thought I had my ship tastes figured out, you know? Since I was a teen the "two power houses that canonically want to kill each other but are more alike than they think" (Shizaya, Tojigo, etc) was my jam, I lived for that shit but then I fell head over heels for "I have canonically died for you and would do it again in a heartbeat" Destiel and like... WHAT??? How did I get here??? WHAT WAS THE PIPELINE???

[derangedthots]

@no1fangirl2000 is my unknowing savior bc i've been thinking abt how hozier's 'from eden' (told from the pov of lucifer as the snake that tempts eve to eat the fruit, who also covets her and hates adam) would be excellent for aemond and jace and what did i find in the jacemond tag on ao3 today? a sweet sweet fic that perfectly matches the song/dynamic. AH-mazing. i love jacemond week could u tell

[evilblot]

I gotta stop watching movies I don't know nothing about, they keep throwing curve balls at me and I can't dodge them to save my life cjsjxjdcj

[jodjuya]

Struggling girldad. No idea how to properly take care of her long hair. It's matting up into full on dreadlocks. Google for advice and find nothing but ludicrously intense hair care routines. All of them recommend buying silk pillowcases. Y'all are out of your fucking minds with that recommendation. I can't even. This kid is still clinging onto using sippy cups for christ's sake. Silk pillowcases. Jesus fuck almighty. Is it possible to have long hair without it getting knotted to all fuck without having these, quite frankly, fucking insane care requirements that all the coquette bloggers are yammering on about?? Surely there are normal people out there with long hair who are fine and normal about it and don't have All Knots All The Time without having to have their entire personality and way of life based around hair care?? It's not even that long: barely past her shoulders. But even at this length it's permanently knotted to shit because neither of us know how to take care of it properly. Just plain old straight, fine, basic white-girl hair. No waviness or texture or curls to complicate things. How do I learn this stuff?? Where are the guides that are chill and normal and not written by Very Intense Haircare Fanatics????? 😭

[heich0e]

shouto has not stopped talking about his new nephew for an hour and fifty seven minutes.

you can't blame him, really, for not being able to stop rambling since he got home—you saw the photos he snapped on his phone, the sweet little boy is borderline cherubic. and it's his first nephew, after all, with touya being the first of the todoroki siblings to have any children. there's added novelty to this new arrival. the fact that the baby is so cute is just a serendipitous bonus.

"...and then he fell asleep right in my arms." shouto rinses his toothbrush under the stream of water flowing from the tap in your shared bathroom. half the story he'd just told had been lost to the froth of toothpaste in his mouth, talking around the toothbrush as he cleaned his teeth before bed, but he'd already told you this part of the story three times—so thankfully you didn't miss anything.

you smile as shouto wipes at the corner of his mouth with a towel hanging from the rail on one side of the bathroom, watching his reflection in the mirror. his eyes flicker up to meet yours in the surface of the glass, and he sees the mirthful twist at the corner of your mouth.

he turns to you in the narrow bathroom just off your bedroom and approaches you slowly, his arms winding around your waist as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. he's in his pajamas now, ready for bed, and without lifting his head or stepping away from you, he begins shuffling the two of you out the door towards your waiting bed in the next room. you can't help but giggle as you go, reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck for balance, allowing him to guide you wherever he sees fit.

shouto leans you back gently once the back of your knees hit the edge of your mattress, crawling overtop of you to get to his side of the bed and then pulling you into his chest once more as he tugs the blankets up around you both.

"sounds like you had a lot of fun today," you remark quietly as you settle into bed, your fingers tracing idle patterns into the flat plane of shouto's sternum.

"i didn't expect him to be so small," shouto replies. "or to smell so good."

you want to laugh at his sincere tone of surprise, but hold it back.

"i hope i get to meet him soon, too," you say.

"touya says you're welcome any time," shouto insists. "he said i'm only welcome some of the time, though."

that really does make you laugh, because you can practically hear the eldest todoroki son's voice saying the words.

it's quiet for a while as you and shouto lay in bed, tangled up together.

"he's gonna make me the godfather," shouto finally says after a while—so softly you almost miss it. the remark, and the tenderness in his voice, makes something in your chest squeeze tight.

"that's so nice, sho," you answer.

"that means if anything ever happens to touya, we get the baby."

'we' he says—not i—like he doesn't for a second picture any future (even one where his beloved older brother has met some untimely demise) without you in it.

"don't wish anything ill on him just because you want to steal his cute baby," you tease him, lifting your head up and resting your chin against his chest so you can watch his face. he looks pensive, like he's really mulling over your words, and it makes you want to laugh again.

"but it would be nice, i think," shouto finally speaks again after his careful contemplation. "having the baby here with us."

heat floods up fast to your cheeks, and you glance away unconsciously. you're sure shouto has no idea what he's just said—still a little giddy from how smitten he is with his new nephew. but it still makes your mind go to places it shouldn't.

"no baby stealing," you reiterate firmly. flopping down again to go to sleep—if for no other reason than you suddenly find it hard to meet his gaze.

shouto sighs a little, but the sound is resigned like he's reluctantly agreeing to your terms. he eases you over onto your side so he can curl up behind you underneath the cover of your quilt, his strong arm looping over your waist.

the heat of shouto's breath hits the shell of your ear as his face rests on the pillow behind you, and you can still smell the spearmint from his toothpaste. his warmth seeps into you as he presses into your back. you close your eyes and luxuriate in the familiarity of it.

"we could have our own, you know," shouto's voice is much nearer to you than you expect it to be when he speaks again, his lips brushing against the back of your ear softly as they shape his words. his hand slips up underneath the t-shirt you wore to bed—the tips of his fingers feel scorching as they ghost across your skin. "and i bet our baby would be even cuter than touya's—no stealing required."

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

God ever since reading A Gilded Cage I cant get the thought out of my head of a part 2 where Reader doesn't see Jason for a few days after the revelation. Like maybe he thinks he's being kind and giving us some time to process, maybe he's on his angst again, or maybe some outside factor has taken his attention so the only time he's able to visit is while we're asleep.

And the whole night of the reveal feels like a fever dream when we wake up but there's a blanket draped over us and a fuzzy little kitten purring up a storm on our chest (in my heart his name is Bean (short for Toebean)), so we're at least kind of sure it happened. But as the time passes with no sign of Jason our certainty begins to wane and until we finally get fed up and write on the notepad the first thing we've asked for since that night: "You."

Or something like that idek okay I've been over here clawing at my walls frothing at the mouth I never really even liked ak!Jason before reading your stuff and now I'm feral for him and its all your fault and I'm not even mad about it

A Glimmering Collar

AKA Part Two of this series. Ahh, nonnie, you literally cooked with this. I love when my fics inspire people enough to keep thinking on them! Seriously, ty for dropping these ideas in my inbox cause I had nothing going on in my brain for a part two initially. Hope you enjoy!

~2.6k words

You wake up to something tickling your nose. Your body feels heavy, your mind even more so. Nothing in you is ready to open your eyes, to face the fact that last night could all have been a dream. That he isn't– that was just a dream.

Something soft flicks your nose again, and you force your eyes open. You blink hard once. Then twice. It's a kitten. It's tiny, and it's sitting by your face. Every few seconds, its tail sways and brushes your nose.

Oh. You sit up slowly, trying not to frighten the small thing. It looks at you contently over its shoulder and meows. The kitten stretches as you stare at it, then plops itself directly on the blanket resting over your lap.

Huh. There's a blanket you definitely don't remember grabbing sprawled over your legs. You carefully reach down to pet the kitten's head. Your heart melts a little when it nuzzles your fingers and purrs.

You look around the room slowly. Nothing else looks different. The notepad is still in place, but the kitten and blanket all point to one thing. Last night was real. Jason is alive. Jason is the Arkham Knight.

You're trying to wrap your brain around that when the door flies open, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

"Good morning!!" A flurry of voice call from the doorway. Your eyes widen as three brightly dressed people strut their way into your apartment, "Are you ready for your shopping trip, hun?"

"My– excuse me?" You stumble out, tucking the kitten to your chest as you stand.

They giggle, and one of them steps forward, "Your shopping trip, sweetie! And spa day, of course. Oh, ha, we haven't even been introduced, have we? I'm Krystal with a K, she's Destini with an i and he's Robbi also with an i."

Robbi huffs and walks up to you to pet your kitten, "Why can't you ever introduce Destini second? She can be Destini also with an i, ya know."

The other girl walks up to you as well and picks affectionately at your clothes, "Because it's alphabetical that way, Robbi. Now you better go get dressed, we have brunch reservations and mimosa plans!"

"I– sorry? What?" You ask, eyes darting between the three of them. Whatever this is, you can't keep up. You've barely processed Jason kidnapped you, and now you're supposed to go get a massage and drinks?

"The boss wants you to go out," a flat voice cuts in. You're the only one that stiffens at the sight of two large men stepping through the door.

Krystal speaks up, "We're here to make sure you have a good time! And Mack and John are here to keep us safe!"

"Mack and John," You echo weakly.

"Your body guards, silly," Destini chirps, ushering you to your room. She plucks the kitten from your hands, "Now get dressed! Wear something nice!"

You stare at the door as she shuts it. What just happened? You hear them chattering happily in the kitchen, idly talking about pregaming your shopping trip.

Your whole mind is a mess, and you sluggishly get ready, thoughts whirling. You've barely talked to soul since you were kidnapped, and now you have five new names to remember, a kitten, and a day out.

You're not exactly sure if you should be unsettled or grateful at how quickly Jason worked to get you what you asked for. By the time you've opened your bedroom door, Krystal, Destini and Robbi are passing around a flask, and playfully trying to get your 'bodyguards' to drink it.

You wonder what they must think of all this. Who they think you are. You're struck with the realization that Jason must be paying them to entertain you today.

You don't get to linger on the thought before Robbi hooked his arm with yours, dragging you towards the door, "Let's gooo, the brunch place we're going to does the best pineapple mimosas. Or cherry, if that's your thing."

"Wait," Mack– or John, you're not exactly sure which one is which– stops you, "Boss wants you to wear this."

The girls and Robbi coo in awe when Mack opens a box, revealing a glittery, jaw-dropping choker. You waver at the sight of it. It's not that it doesn't match what you're wearing. You'd dressed up like Destini suggested, but it feels like some kind of trap.

You reluctantly pick up the necklace, eyeing how it catches the light, "Is it– are sure it's safe to wear this out?" Safety isn't really what you're concerned about at the moment.

You're more worried about the crushing weight that this means more than you understand.

John nods once, "There won't be any problems."

Krystal happily plucks the necklace from your fingers, and before you have time to argue, she drapes the necklace around your throat. "It's beautiful, hun. Just like you. Let's go get you something to eat," her voice is soft, measured, and full of so much understanding it makes you want to cry.

You don't know much they know, but when she hooks her arm with yours to guide you out the door, you have a feeling there's more awareness than their bubbly attitudes let on.

The day ends up being wonderful. Being around people, out under the sun (the sun Gotham does get), was rejuvenating. You had fun, joked, smiled, and for a day, it was almost like you didn't have a prison cell to go back to.

The food was delicious, the spa relaxing, and you didn't have to carry back a single bag. Krystal had flashed a black card at every payment, every place ever could want to shop at, reassuring you it's all been taken care of.

But the time you've collapsed on the couch, exhausted but content, the uneasy feelings from this morning are gone.

You settle on the cushions to wait for Jason. To thank him for listening or to yell at him for still keeping you here, you're not exactly sure yet.

But he doesn't come, you fall asleep in your expensive necklace and pretty clothes with one hand petting your kitten. He doesn't come the next day either, at least not while you're awake, but Krystal, Destini, and Robbi do.

Your friends, the people being paid to entertain you are nice, perfect even. They're exactly what you would have asked for.

Your kitten is perfect too, it cuddles with you at night and nuzzles under your chin after you're left alone, when the unease finds its way back to you.

It's been days since you've seen him. It's starting to feel like a lifetime. You know he comes back after you fall asleep, he moves things. You think it's his way of showing that he listened, that he came back because you asked.

The notepad, the one you haven't written on since that night, shifts closer to you on the glass table if you sleep on the couch.

The glimmering choker gets pulled out of the drawer every time you try to put it away. Your kitten has a growing collection of toys and things to climb on.

It's obvious he's visiting, so why won't he let you see him? Day five of dancing around each other breaks you. You want to see him, want to talk to him, and understand. You want Jason.

Your hand shakes a little, when you go to write on the notepad, and when you wake up the next morning, the paper is blank again.

You wait. You wait some more. All day you wait for him. No one else comes. It's strangely quiet, with just you and your kitten. You've just about given up, collapsed in your bed, when the glowing whites of his helmet catch your attention.

You sit up quickly and throw your legs off the bed as you stare into the doorway, "You came."

"Did you mean it," he asks, any emotion he's feeling hidden by the aggravating modulator.

"Mean what," You question, standing off the bed to walk closer to him, "Will you take the mask off?"

He doesn't move for a moment, just takes in the sight of you. The silence that drags almost makes you regret the question, but he carefully pulls off his helmet, "What you wrote. That you wanted me."

"I– yeah, Jason. I haven't– it's been days since I saw you," You only notice mid sentence that his hand is reaching for your face, it makes your voice waver. "You never answered any of my questions," You finish weakly.

His hand stills and he drops it, "Questions. That's what you wanted?"

You nod a little, searching his face for any hint of what he's feeling, but he gives nothing away.

He sighs softly, and looks away, adjusting his helmet under his arm. You think he might look disappointed, "I can't give you the answers you're looking for."

"Why not," You question softly, worried to push him away.

Jason turns his focus back to you, "I just need you to stay here. Please," he sighs out your name, and his hand twitches as if to touch you, "Don't fight me on this."

"That's not fair," You mumble, "Why am I here, Jason? You know I would have listened if you came to talk to me instead of– this."

Silence falls again, and he steps past you into your room. He sets his helmet on your dresser and picks up the choker resting on the wooden surface, "I wish you would wear this. I picked it out for you."

"Jason," You start, tracking his movements.

"I know," he cuts you off, "but I told you, you don't need to understand anything." You stiffen when he steps back towards you and guides you to turn around.

The air leaves your lungs as his gloves brush over your skin. He sets the necklace around your throat, and even after it rests heavy against your skin, his touch lingers.

"You just need to stay here. It's safe. I've given you everything you've asked for, and everything you haven't," Jason says softly, stepping out from behind you. His gaze lingers on your neck for a moment, and the stifling, unexplainable feeling sets back into your gut.

Your words stick in your throat. There's a sense of danger, one that doesn't make sense. Jason wouldn't hurt you. Not the Jason you know. But is this the Jason you know? The thought makes you want to tear the choker from your skin and throw it at him.

"It feels like a collar," You say quietly, and your breath hitches when his gaze snaps go yours, "I mean, it's pretty. Really. But, it feels– like it's more," You stumble out.

He nods slowly, and he doesn't stop himself from touching you this time. His fingers trace the choker, linger over your collarbones, brush along your pulse, "Maybe it is."

You blink at him, every thought flying from your brain, "What?"

He hums softly, hooking a finger under the shiny jewels to draw you closer, "Does that scare you? Knowing that you can't leave? Knowing that no matter how pretty these are, it's just another way to keep you?"

"You wouldn't hurt me," you say instead, it sounds like you believe it, but you're not sure if you're trying to convince yourself or him.

"I don't want to," He admits, fingers leaving your throat to trail up your jaw, "but I probably could."

"I don't believe that. I remember–" He tuts, tapping your cheek. Your heart drops when you realize he's mirroring where his own brand is.

"I'm not what you remember," he says firmly, before whispering your name, "I'm not that Jason. Not really."

"Then who are you," You ask, even though you don't want to know the answer. You want to pretend he's still something you know.

His eyes dart over your face, then back down to the necklace, "I'm still Jason. But I'm also the Arkham Knight."

"What does that mean," You push, reach up to grab his wrist, demanding his attention, demanding real answers.

"It means that you stay. It means that I give you what you want. Everything and anything except leaving," he says, voice lowering to something kinder, gentler, "it'll make sense eventually. You'll be happy here. Safe."

"Will that make you happy?" You ask, fingers tightening on his wrist. Half of you wants to pull him away, stop him from tracing patterns over your cheek, but the other part of you wants to press his hand closer.

Something flicks in his eyes at your words, "Yes."

"Will it keep you safe?" You murmur, eyes locked on his.

He doesn't answer, clenching and unclenching his jaw for a moment, "Safety is an option I don't have."

"It could be, if you wanted it," You say, dropping his wrist. It must be true. Even with all the secrets he's keeping, his evasive disappearing act, he could take off the armor. Leave behind the new symbol engraved over his chest.

He laughs a little and swipes his thumb under your eye, "I'm glad that you don't understand. It's good, that they didn't twist you into something unrecognizable."

"Understand?" You prompt, unsettled by his laughter.

"That they need to pay. All of them do," he smiles a little, it's a mockery of the one you remember. Jason traces the choker one last time before stepping back.

"You're leaving," You say, not a question, a statement of fact. He's leaving, without explaining anything again.

"I am," he affirms, moving to grab his helmet.

"I want you to stay," You breathe out and he freezes in place.

He exhales softly and faces you again, "You don't know what you're asking."

"I do. I want you to stay," You repeat, reaching out to push his helmet back towards the dresser.

"And then what?" He asks lowly, a warning, "What do you expect to happen?"

It makes you waver, "I– I don't know. But it's what I want."

It's another long moment of nothing before he answers, gesturing towards the bed, "Go to sleep."

"You'll stay?"

He nods at your question, unceremoniously dragging the chair from your desk to your bedside.

"Is that going to be comfortable–" You begin, settling yourself in the bed.

"You're overthinking it," he mumbles, waving at you to lay down. You do, watching as your kitten jumps into his lap, curling up like this is something that happens all the time. (You have the feeling it is) "Have you named him," he asks quietly.

"The kitten? Mm, no. Wanted you to," You say softly, carefully not to unsettle either of them.

"I wouldn't be good at it," Jason protests, eyes flicking between you and the kitten.

"I don't mind," You murmur, "anything's better than 'kitten'."

He pauses, so quiet and still you think he won't answer, "Bean," he mumbles, reluctant as the newly appointed Bean cuddles into his armor.

You smile, "Bean's a good name."

He doesn't answer, seemingly engrossed with watching the kitten.

You take him in for another moment, memorizing his face before closing your eyes. It's not an accident that you leave your palm open and face up by the side of the bed.

There's no more pleasantries exchanged, no sweet goodnights or the gentle touches against your face you've grown used to. But just as you finally start to drift off, as darkness finally draws you to rest, a warm, rough hand weaves itself into yours and squeezes.

Part Three