#i do like the hating sand memes sorry to take it too deep | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

psychovigilantewrites · 5 years

Text

Don’t Call Me That Pt. 2

Wordcount: 10,129

A/N: I thought this part 2 would total up to 10k words, but when it hit 10k, I realised that I was only about 65 percent done. So based on the responses I got from tumblr, I decided to publish this first and then conclude the story later on!

TW: mentions of r*pe, mentions of torture, mentions of drugging someone (??) , mental breakdowns, vulnerability, descriptions of anxiety

Also, HERE’S MY FAV MEMES!! I’m so sorry that I can’t tag respective meme creators, because I saved them on my phone and some of them I forgot to include your usernames!! I’M SO SORRY!!! And honest to god is wear there were more but i must have lost them im so sorry im so incompetent lmao

memeesss

You glanced at your phone.

It had already been a week in Hawaii with your friends, and Jason still hadn’t texted you.

Well, you should have expected it, really. Jason was a traumatised, mentally ill man who had been locked away for two years.

Of course he wouldn’t text you first.

You had contemplated texting him over the past few days, typing in an array of messages ranging from a simple “hey” to a whole paragraph, and deleting all of it without hitting send. Did he even switch the phone on? Was he surfing the internet? Or was the phone still there on the shelf where you had left it.

It was driving you crazy.

“Do you have a boyfriend we don’t know about?” a voice called.

You looked up and squinted at the man who was standing up, looking down at you. You were sitting on the beach, a little further away from the ocean where your friends were.

“What are you talking about?” you asked as Alex plopped down next to you.

“You’ve been fidgety the whole time,” he pointed out, combing back his dark shoulder length hair with his fingers, getting sand in them. “We’re on a private beach, and you’ve been fussing over your phone. Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” you grumbled truthfully.

“The girls have been gossiping,” he gestured to the two other girls playing in the water. Your closest friends. It was four of you in that inseparable group.

“Of course they have,” you groaned, “Tell them to SAY IT TO MY FACE, COWARDS!”

You shouted at them, earning you grins and middle fingers from the distance.

“They’re saying you’re in love with someone,” he chuckled, “But they always say stupid shit like that without any evidence. But sometimes, a girl’s intuition is just right, ya know?”

“Stop beating around the bush, Alex,” you rolled your eyes at him despite knowing he couldn’t see past your sunglasses. “No, I’m not in love. I’m just waiting for a text that might never come.”

“Why don’t you text him first?”

“Because it’s not as simple as that!” you flailed your arms, “He’s… complicated. I can’t just text him anything.”

“Girl, unless he’s Mr. Nottingham, or related to you, then it really isn’t that complicated,” he joked.

“Ugh,” you groaned again, falling back onto the cloth you spread out. “Fine. I’ll text him.”

“Atta girl,” Alex grinned, “I’m gonna head back in the water. Join us after. Please?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved.

Opening the text window for what had to be the thirtieth time, you finally decided to text him.

You: Miss me yet?

Staring intently at the small ‘sent’ below your message bubble, you waited for it to turn to ‘delivered’.

“Yes!” you hissed. It meant that Jason had indeed switched on the phone.

But after twenty minutes you realised that it didn’t matter if Jason switched on the phone if he didn’t want to talk to you. Cursing to yourself, you decided to join your friends in the water, hoping it’ll distract you from checking your phone every five minutes for a text message that might never come.

After an hour of actually spending time with your friends, all four of you returned to the villa, your mood elevated. Checking your phone, you could have jumped for joy when you saw not one, but four consecutive texts in a row.

Jason: Duck off. Jason: What the duck Jason: WHY CANT I SAY DUCK Jason: I DUCKING HATE THIS

You couldn’t let out a string of giggles.

“Oooh, lover boy texted you back, huh?” Alex peeked over your shoulder. “Gimme, I wanna mess with him.”

He snatched your phone from your hands, surprisingly swift and smooth for a civilian, raising it way above his head so you couldn’t reach it and opened the camera.

“Alex-!”

He threw his other arm over your shoulder and pulled you into his bare chest, crushing you before you could tackle him down. He snapped a picture and sent it.

You froze in horror.

“Why the hell did you do that?!” you yelled.

“Relax, I was just messing around,” he gave your phone back to you.

“You don’t- you don’t understand, you fucking asshole!” you screamed.

“I- I’m sorry,” Alex stuttered, surprised by your reaction. “I was just-”

“Fuck off!” you snapped.

Panicking, you saw the little notification below the picture turning from Received to Read.

No. No, no, no, no.

This was bad.

You didn’t want to overwhelm Jason by sending him photos of your activities, thinking that he might react badly to the sudden surplus of familiarity and sense of being close to someone. Now you were worried that he might start to push you away in fear, reverting back to how he was before, and months of progress would have been all for nothing.

He would probably start swearing at you, or worse- switch off the phone and reject any form of communication completely. You hurriedly texted a reply.

You: I’m so sorry! I didn’t send that, my friend was just messing around.

Expecting the worst, you braced yourself for the inevitable. Instead, he sent you:

Jason: Who the hell is that guy?? Jason: Why are you in your underwear??

Your mouth hung open as you stared in shock at the screen. Because you took so long to recover from the shock, he sent you another message.

Jason: ???

Snapping out of it, you texted back.

You: That’s just my friend. Sorry about that! And I’m not in my underwear, it’s a bikini! I’m in Hawaii.

You waited for him to reply, but ten minutes of you sitting anxiously on the turquoise sofa in the middle of the villa listening to the waves of the beach outside from the open doors passed by, and he still hadn’t.

Perhaps he’s busy- wait. There’s no way Jason would be busy. You tried to coax him into a conversation.

You: You can turn off your autocorrect if you want to swear without hassle. Go to your Keyboard settings.

You plopped your phone on the empty seat next to you and dried your hair.

“Ugh, come on!” complained Natalie, fully clothed and washed, walking towards the open concept kitchen from her room. “You’re getting sand everywhere!”

“Woops, my bad,” you grinned.

“There’s a shower outside on the porch for a reason you know,” she flipped her blond beach waves at you, looking through the fridge.

Alex stood quietly at the kitchen island, now scared to say anything.

You rolled your eyes. “Just don’t do it again.”

“Okay, I promise!” he grinned.

Ding.

Jason: fuck. fuck. fucking fuck. Jason: found it. You: Proud of you, man.

You went to your room and showered, then dried off and put on fresh clothes while waiting for Jason to reply.

Of course, he never did.

Groaning, you had to remind yourself that he was not used to human interaction, and texting would come unnaturally to him. Which meant that you had to be the one to keep the conversation going.

You: Do anything interesting since I left?

You saw him typing almost immediately this time.

Jason: no.

Of course not.

You: Have you been eating properly? Jason: yeah.

God, it was so difficult. You were in the middle of typing something when he replied again.

Jason: yoire not my mom Jason: yoire Jason: YOIRE Jason: FUCK WHY CANR I TYPE

You felt guilty for laughing, but you did anyway.

You: Now that you switched off autocorrect, it won’t correct your typos and misspells anymore. Jason: i fucking knw that. Ive been gone for two yeard not twenty. You: Then why do you sound like a grandpa? Jason: BECAISE YOU GAVE ME A FUCKINF IPHONE!! I USED AN ANDROID!!

Now you were really laughing out loud, so you sent him a GIF of a woman rolling her eyes.

Jason: wtf you can send gifs throug text now?? You: Welcome to 2020, my dude. Jason: im not your fucking dude

Typing a reply, Jason interrupted you once again.

Jason: teach me how to do that

Smiling widely, you found that you couldn’t wait for the next week to pass by so you could go back and see him.

***

“How’s Jason?” you asked the minute you reached the Cave computers, panting from the run down.

“Wow, hello to you, too,” Dick chuckled, spinning towards you on the wheeled chair.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and Bruce and Dick were in front of the computers, discussing a case that had connections to Bludhaven Police Department.

Gone for two weeks, you had a lot to catch up on.

“According to Alfred, he’s doing well,” Bruce answered, “Even started to ask for seconds last week. Now Alfred has been making portions for two.”

“He asked? For seconds?” you gasped. “How?”

“He left a note on the tray two days after you left. He’s been making meal requests, too. Texts Alfred in the morning to let him know.”

“Texted?!”

“Alfred slipped his number on the tray in case Jason wanted anything specific.”

“I slipped mine as well, but he hasn’t texted me yet,” Dick pouted.

“When did he start texting?” you ignored Dick.

“Last Sunday.”

So the same day you started texting him, then.

“He hasn’t texted me,” Dick sighed, looking dejected like a kid who was told Disneyland blew up.

“He’ll come around, Dick,” you offered him a smile, “I mean- he’s already texting Alfred!”

“Yeah,” he lamented.

“Okaaay, nice talk. I’m gonna go see him now, bye.”

You ran to the box, but stopped right before you opened the internal door. After checking your hair with your phone camera, you tried to stifle the butterflies in your stomach.

Ugh, you were so fucked.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door.

“Yeah,” Jason’s muffled grunt answered you.

Pushing it open, your eyes immediately went to the bed only to find that he wasn’t lounging around reading a book like you expected. Instead, your mouth dropped open when you saw him on the floor, doing push ups.

Shirtless.

Jason had changed drastically during the two weeks you were gone. You noticed that he had definitely gained weight, as well as muscle mass.

“Uh, wh-what are you..?”

He stood up, and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

His muscles were much more prominent and defined now, and he looked like he was going to achieve Dick’s physique if he kept it up for another month or two.

“Welcome back,” he simply said before taking gulps from a water bottle you definitely had not seen before.

“Thanks,” you walked over and sat on his bed, “I’m glad to see that you decided to start taking care of yourself again.”

“What, this? This isn’t for me.”

“Huh?” you cocked your head in curiosity.

“I… I lost a lot of muscle mass. My body- it isn’t how it used to be,” he frowned, “And I can’t have you lusting over it when it’s not at its peak.”

“What- what do you-?” you stammered, suddenly getting hot.

Jason merely smirked and then continued his push ups.

You watched as his developing muscles rippled, a thin layer of sweat making his skin glisten in the light. It was amazing how he had progressed so much in such a short period of time. You guessed that he must have just been occupying his days by working out.

No wonder he’s been asking for seconds.

“Enjoying the view?” Jason breathed, pausing with his arms straightened, his head angled upwards towards you.

“No, shut up,” you looked away.

“Here, be useful,” he started, “Sit on my back.”

“What?”

“I’ve gotten used to my own body weight, I need extra resistance,” he elaborated, “Come on, sit on my back.”

“But it’s all sweaty,” you whined, pretending to protest. Definitely pretending- for the sake of your own dignity.

You got up and went over towards him anyway.

Carefully, awkwardly, you sat on his back as you would a park bench. You rested your palms flat against his sticky skin to stabilise yourself. Suddenly, he dipped down without warning, earning a soft squeal from you.

“Fuck, you’re heavy,” he strained, but continued to do the push ups. He was shakier, struggling with the weight, and after twenty-five, he paused. “Okay, I think I’m done.”

But before you had the chance to get off him, he suddenly stood up, throwing you off his back to have you fall on the floor on your ass.

“Jason, you assho-” you clapped your hand over your mouth, realising what you had just said.

Oh, no. Oh, fuck.

He stood towering over you, his jaw clenching as he stared you down with his cold, blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry! I forgot! It was a reflex and-”

“Whatever. I don’t care anymore,” he rolled his eyes, reaching for his bottle.

You blinked. Then scrambled to your feet.

“You don’t care anymore?” you repeated slowly.

“I don’t care if you call me that,” he huffed.

That made your heart swell and melt at the same time.

“I got used to your voice,” he mumbled, expression changing as he looked away. He frowned, as if he was angrily staring at a distant object.

You had just guessed that he didn’t like to be called his name because of a sense of familiarity, but now you were thinking that there was much more to that than what you had originally thought.

“So, I can call you… Jason?” you tested.

“Yeah, call me whatever you want,” he sat on his bed, looking up at you.

You smiled, thankful that you had finally crossed that bridge. “You know, I could get some workout stuff for you? Weights, bands, that bar thing that you can put at your door frame for pull ups…”

“You’d like to see that, huh?” he smirked.

“You flatter yourself too much,” you scoffed.

“How was Hawaii?” he changed the subject all of a sudden.

“It was fun. Beach was great, locals were great, loved the vibe- what are you doing?”

Jason had stood back up and started to walk closer and closer to you, getting all up in your space like a predator finally cornering its prey. You kept on taking steps back until your ass hit the edge of the desk.

Nowhere else to run, your heart started hammering. He leaned in, his hands resting on the desk on either side of your body, trapping you against the table and himself. You looked up and gulped. You could almost feel the heat radiating from his bare skin.

“Are you afraid of me?” he muttered lowly.

“Why would I be afraid of you?” you whispered.

“You tell me,” he said.

“Well, I’m not afraid of you,” you stated.

“Oh really?” he raised an eyebrow. Then, you felt his hand grip your wrist tightly, pressing down on your skin with his fingers. “Your pulse is very fast for someone who’s not afraid of me.”

“It’s because you’re all up in my space!” you argued.

“Didn’t look like you mind when your friend,” he snarled the word, “was all up in your space.”

“My friend? What- oh,” you widen your eyes in realisation, “You mean Alex.”

“Is that his name?”

“Alex is just a friend, nothing more. He’s just someone I’m close to,” you reassured him.

Which then made you think about why you were reassuring him.

“Oh, you were definitely close to him,” Jason growled.

“Wait- are you… jealous?” a smile creeped your lips.

He scowled at you for a few moments, and you could see the little tics in his expression that said he was annoyed. The flared nostrils, the muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching, the very slight twitches at the corner of his left eye.

“No,” he finally said, taking a step back from you. “I’m going to shower. Since you couldn’t stop staring at me, the invitation is still open for you to join.”

“You know, I’m starting to think that maybe I prefer it when you were broody instead of this. Please go back to your depressive mental state,” you sarcastically replied.

Jason barked out an actual laugh. Though his laugh was odd, like someone who’s only now discovering that humans were indeed capable of laughter, you found comfort in it. It was no longer hysterical and devoid of humor. He was getting better, learning to embrace a connection with someone, and it made you extremely happy.

“Maybe I should,” he answered with a cheeky glint in his eye, “Then that way you can give me more sponge baths.”

He left you alone in his room, flushed and at a loss for words.

***

“I find it very odd that people would yell ‘Batman!’ when they realise you’re there,” you rambled while climbing out of the Batmobile.

You were absolutely drenched from the downpour that had been going on all night. It was 4 am on a friday night and you had just returned from patrol.

Bruce took off his cowl immediately, revealing tired eyes despite the relatively slow night.

“It’s like they’re saying ‘Look at me! I’m here! Please knock me out or hang me upside down from the-’ Bruce?”

Bruce had stiffen, staring at something behind you. You turned around and was shocked to see Jason in the mid-distance, sitting on the ground outside the black box that was his room, leaning against the cool metal.

He himself was staring intently at Bruce, not even sparing you a glance.

You looked back and forth between the two men, sensing a high tension silent conversation.

Then, Bruce’s eyes relaxed and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly in that hardly-there-Bruce-smile.

He gave Jason one stiff nod of understanding, then walked away to the computers at the other end of the cave, leaving you alone with his son.

Jason relaxed as you walked over to him, wringing your hair to squeeze out all the excess water.

“Aw, you waited up for me,” you teased, standing in front of him with your hands on your hips, grinning away.

“Fuck off,” he snorted, “I was bored.”

You noticed him clenching his jaw as he looked at you from top to bottom, eyes lingering longer on the ‘R’ on your left breast.

Ah, it was his first time seeing you in your uniform.

His uniform.

Suddenly, you felt like an imposter in those colors and had the strong urge to rip the uniform off.

You wanted to say something, but Jason beat you to it.

“There were times in that shit hole where I wanted to burn that uniform off my skin,” he grit, “Kept on thinking to myself. I wish I never became Robin. I wish I never met Bruce Wayne.”

Your heart shattered at his confession. It was extremely rare for him to bring up anything related to his two year torture, and the previous times were never in such detail.

Realising you needed to say something, you opened your mouth. “I’m so-”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Yes, sometimes you knew that he just wanted you to listen.

You nodded silently and went to sit next to him on the floor.

“It… suits you,” he forced out.

“Hmm?”

“The uniform. It suits you. More than it ever suited me,” he grumbled.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think your ass would look quite nice in green,” you joked, nudging his shoulder with your own.

He chuckled deeply, nudging you back even harder- hard enough for you to lose your balance and topple sideways, earning another breathy laugh from Jason.

***

Another month passed by, and you found yourself falling deeply for Jason- much to your dismay. You knew Jason wasn’t ready for any kind of intense emotions, and that it would take a very long time before he was.

So you swallowed your emotions down, stifling them and hoping it would go away.

The two of you had developed a pleasant friendship, often bickering and joking around, with Jason teasing you about your obvious physical attraction to him.

He also now occasionally waited outside his cube for you to come back after patrol, never really venturing too far from it, and still avoiding contact with both Bruce and Dick. Only you and Alfred had the privilege to speak to him.

Even then, sometimes you would visit his room but only getting a “I’m not feeling it today. Please leave.”

Understandingly, you would nod silently and leave him alone. You knew he still had his bad days, sometimes not eating his meals.

But mostly, he was getting better, both mentally and physically.

With nothing much to do the whole day, Jason was now obsessed with working out and bulking up. He now had a few simple equipment in his room- mostly weights.

You figured that it was a coping mechanism for him, a healthy outlet to channel all his rage and negative emotions into.

But come on. He was getting even hotter and it was making it extremely difficult for you to stop yourself from checking him out, fantasizing about him when he wasn’t around. Still, you couldn’t complain. Even though he hadn’t reached Dick’s size yet, he was very near to it, and his naturally bigger body frame and build made up for the still developing muscles.

Hell, he was now sporting a six pack.

But you knew that he was still not as well as you hoped he would be. The bloodshot eyes he had was proof that he doesn’t sleep well- and you soon found out why.

It was a little past midnight on your night off from patrol, and you were using your break in the best way you could think of- by sleeping. Something woke you up that night.

A soft knock on your door.

You frowned, eyes still closed, wondering who it was.

Bruce would usually knock twice. Strong, clear, and with purpose. Dick would start pounding rapidly on your door, annoying you intentionally. Alfred would give three soft knocks followed by a ‘Miss?’

Your eyes flew open. There was only one other person in the manor.

Throwing your covers aside, you jumped out of bed and rushed to the door to open it.

Jason stood outside your door in the dim lights of the hallway, frowning and running his fingers nervously through his messy dark hair. He was wearing a t-shirt with boxers, standing awkwardly.

“Jason?” you hated how your voice sounded so sleepy. You cleared your throat. “Are you okay? Would you like to come in?”

He nodded silently, and you made way for him to enter before closing the door behind you.

“Sit on the bed,” you told him while jumping back into yours, sitting up cross legged.

The bed dipped when he sat on it, copying your motion and crossed his legs.

You waited for him to say something, your eyes straining to catch his in the dark. But he just remained silent, staring into space and avoiding your eyes.

“How did you know this was my room?” you asked, starting with a light topic.

“Only one that was locked. I already know where everyone else sleeps,” he explained.

“That’s right,” you realised, “I tend to forget that you’re probably even more familiar with the manor than I am.”

“Did you know there’s an old dumbwaiter in Bruce’s room?” you saw him smirk from the shadows that was casted on his face, “I used to hide in there, waiting to catch him off guard.”

“What? Why?”

“Dick and I, we had a bet,” he recalled the memory, “Whoever gets to surprise Bruce first would owe the other a special favor. Only rule was that we had to have it on video as proof.”

You appreciated that moment, the first time he ever spoke about both Dick and Bruce as a fond memory.

“I won, by the way,” he continued, “But- I forgot to press record on my phone.”

“Oh, no,” you groaned for him.

“Yeah, and Dick refused to believe me,” he chuckled, “That old man didn’t want to admit it either. But I swear- the look on his face when I jumped out while he and some model were going at it- priceless.”

Your jaw dropped, and then you burst into a fit of laughter, tears filling your eyes.

“You- you- you jumped out on him while he was having sex?!” you squealed.

“Yeah,” he grinned, “I didn’t even care that it sort of scarred me, because I managed to catch Batman off guard.”

The both of you laughed, his deep voice mingling with your own on that quiet night.

“I’m glad you’re here, Jason,” you smiled warmly at him.

But then, his smile fell.

“I hate my name now.”

“I’m sorry,” you began, “You said it was okay to call you that, so I-”

“No, it’s fine,” he started running his fingers through his hair again, “It’s just- I don’t know.”

“You can tell me anything,” you reassured, “It won’t leave this room. I promise.”

He looked at you, worry in his eyes. “Okay. Fine. Yeah.”

You waited for him to begin.

He took a deep breath. “I’ve been having nightmares. Almost every night. It’s always the same one.”

“You want to tell me about it?” you prompted him after waiting for him to continue.

“I hate my name because he said it a lot. Joker,” he scowled, “After repeatedly burning my skin for my name, it’s like that’s all he said. In that annoying, high pitched, sing-song voice of his. Jason, Jason, Jason. It made me hate my name. It made me hate hearing it.”

“I- I didn’t know how much time passed when I was in there,” he continued, “But, fuck. It was- it was hell. And the worst part was that I kept on waiting for Bruce. Waiting and hoping for him to find me and save me. I was so desperate. You- I-”

He choked on his words. His eyes were squeezed shut and his lips tight.

You wanted to reach out to him, hug him, tell him that everything was okay now. But you didn’t. You waited for him to collect himself so he could finish telling you his story, just like how he wanted to.

“Anyway, I- despite all that,” he sighed, “That was the only thing that kept me sane. I kept on clinging onto the hope that he was out there, searching. And that helped for a while. Until- until that happened.”

He was breathing heavily now, fidgeting more. Jason was definitely getting increasingly agitated the deeper he went.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “Fuck.”

The moment you realised he was crying was when he let out a sniffle. You automatically took his hand in yours, squeezing it as a form of comfort.

“It’s okay,” you told him, “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

“No,” he shook his head, “I need to. I have to. I can’t take this anymore. Keeping everything in, I feel like I’m about to fucking explode.”

“Okay, then take it slow,” you said, “No rush. Anytime you’re ready.”

He nodded, eyes still closed, as if he was afraid of letting you see him cry.

“One night,” he began, “I think- I don’t know what was different- but I think something went wrong for him. Or right? That’s how it was. Tormenting me was fun, but it was also an outlet for him. But at the same time when he was happy, he also tortured me. He came to me, and- injected me with some sort of drug. That never happened before. He made sure that my head was clear whenever he hurt me so that I could feel everything he did.”

“But- he did- and- immediately, I felt weak,” he continued, “I mean, I was already weak. But my head. It was cloudy. I remember everything clearly, but it was like my brain couldn’t process it, couldn’t communicate with my body. I felt like I was looking out through a window that was my eyes- like I was in someone else’s body, experiencing someone else’s moments.”

“He released me,” Jason’s voice was now barely a whisper. “He released me from the ropes, and I fell to the floor. And then he- he- fuck.”

He let go of your hand and started pulling at his hair, rocking back and forth on your bed. He was sobbing now, his shoulders jerking up in sharp intakes of breaths. The only thing you could do was to stay silent and hold back your own tears.

You rested your hand on his knee, giving him a textile connection with reality so he doesn’t fall into his own thoughts.

“You- he- he- ruh- ruhp-”

Your heart sank to your stomach in horror as you realised what Jason was trying to say. It was as if you were plunged into icy water, chills running down your spine at the true revelation of what he had gone through in that cursed cell.

“Oh, no,” you breathed.

“He pushed me down,” he choked, “Pushed me down and climbed on top. I- I couldn’t even fight him. I was- I was conscious the whole time and I knew what was happening, but I couldn’t fucking do anything.”

Your tears were falling down now, both at the sight of Jason looking so vulnerable and fragile, and at his confession. Not being able to help yourself, you threw your arms over his neck and crashed into his hard body, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

His arms immediately wrapped around you, clutching you so hard it was painful as he buried his own face into your shoulder.

“And he kept on saying my name,” he said in muffled cries, “Jason, Jason, Jason. The whole fucking time. And- and I knew. He didn’t do it for pleasure. He did it to torment me. He- he didn’t even- he didn’t even finish.”

Jason sobbed into your skin for the next few minutes, his tears soaking through your night shirt. “But I did. Even though it was painful. Fuck, the pain was worse than anything he had ever done to me before. But- he- I- I fucking came.”

The both of you were sobbing now, his ragged breaths mingling together with your own on that quiet night.

His grip on you was tight, as if he thought that if he let go, you would disappear. So he clung onto you with all his might to keep you there with him as he recalled the horrific events.

“That's what broke me. I was so disgusted with myself. I hated myself. And he- he saw everything and- and laughed. He laughed so hard, I thought he was going to choke and die. I’ve never seen him laugh like that. And I remember every single fucking moment of being helpless on that fucking floor while he- fuck. Fuck.”

“And then he left. He left me on the floor bleeding and I never saw him again. And I went fucking insane. I tried to kill myself so many fucking times. So many times, I lost count. That’s what I dream about every night. His laughs, and his ‘Jason, Jason, Jason’.”

And that was that. That was the story.

The end of Jason Todd.

The both of you cried long and hard that night in each other’s arms. Eventually, you both lied down on the pillows together, underneath the covers.

“Please don’t tell Bruce,” he whispered to you.

Your head was on his chest, his big arms wrapped around your waist, your legs tangled with his.

You smiled at that. Even with the trauma, even with the sense of abandonment he felt, he still wanted to protect Bruce from knowing the truth.

Because the both of you knew that the truth would kill him.

“I promise,” you whispered back.

And then the both of you fell asleep together.

***

“Has Jason been sleeping in your room with you?” Bruce asked you on one fine Saturday morning at breakfast.

It had been about a week and a half since the first time Jason knocked on your door and poured out his feelings to you.

“He gets nightmares,” you tried to explain.

He thought that if he told you everything, the nightmares would stop. But it didn’t. But he then realised that the only thing that made it better was sleeping by your side, having someone there to wake him up from living his own hell in a loop.

“And do the two of you… Just sleep?” Bruce frowned.

“Yes!” you widen your eyes in horror at the insinuation. “Bruce! Come on!”

“I know you have feelings for him, and I’m sure he does for you as well. But I don’t think something like that is what Jason needs right now,” he stated.

“Yes, I know!” you groaned at the thought having that kind of conversation with him, “Jesus, Bruce. I know. I’m just there to wake him up or help him fall back asleep. Nothing more.”

Bruce nodded, deep in thought. “Has he… told you? About what happened?”

You pursed your lips. “Yes.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” his frown went deeper. “I understand. He will tell me when he is ready.”

“Exactly,” you smiled, hiding the fact that Jason may never tell Bruce what happened. Never the full story.

“He still hasn’t left the manor?”

“No,” you sighed, “I asked him if he wanted some fresh air. Just outside the main door, not even going down the steps. But he refused. Told me to, and I quote, ‘Fuck off’.”

“Well, he’s only just left the cave, and it’s just to your room,” Bruce thought out loud, “It’s still progress. Especially since he’s been talking to you about the past.”

“He only spoke about it one time,” you said, “And then never again.”

“I see,” he hummed, “And you’re okay with him sleeping with you?”

“Next to me, Bruce, sleeping next to me,” you corrected.

“Yes, and you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah, it’s all good,” you assured him, “I can kick him out any time I want- but I don’t want to. He looks like a lost puppy sometimes.”

“An angry lost puppy.”

You chuckled at that and couldn’t agree more.

*** While Jason got the sleep he needed when he was next to you, it was counterproductive on your end. You had never been with anyone before, and definitely had not slept on the same bed with another man.

So to feel his body heat and breaths against your skin, his occasional light snores, it made your mind go on hyperdrive.

Most of the time, the two of you would just lie down, your back against his front, or your backs against each other, or both on your backs just staring at the ceiling- and talked. You would be the one talking the most, of course, about anything you could think of. You would tell him about your day, your patrols, something you read about online, or the current news.

But that one particular night during week three of him sleeping next to you, the two of you were silent. It wasn’t an awkward or uncomfortable silence, but the kind of silence that was pleasant and was better described as a peaceful quiet.

You had your back pressed against his front and his arm was lazily draped over your waist. It was a cold night, and you were wearing just a tank top and pyjama shorts, snuggling under the covers that went up all the way to your nose.

Shifting a bit while snuggling comfortably, you pressed yourself against Jason’s body to get more of his heat. But then, you were met with something poking against your lower back.

“Ngh, please ignore that,” Jason huffed.

Oh.

For some reason, you forgot that Jason was a physically healthy male who was capable of having sexual thoughts and feelings. All this while, you thought you were the only one.

“Are you- uh- is that- uh-” you stuttered, feeling your face flush with heat.

Feeling your body suddenly alert with excitement.

“Yes, it’s my fucking penis,” he grit almost angrily, “What, never heard of an erection before?”

“Of course I have!” you argued rather defensively, “It’s just- I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“Why?” he demanded, “You didn’t think I could get it up or something?”

“No, of course not!” you denied, “It just didn’t cross my mind, that’s all.”

A pause. Then-

“Well,” he sighed, “You wouldn’t have been wrong.”

Your mind blanked for a second.

“What do you mean?” you asked softly.

“It’s my- fuck- it’s my first time,” he confessed.

“Your first time getting an erection?” you gasped.

“No, you idiot,” he snapped, “It’s my first time getting hard since… since… then.”

Oh. Oh, you were an idiot.

“It’s just- after that- even when I was downstairs, alone and safe, I- I couldn’t,” he told you, “I kept on thinking back to that time and- and I couldn’t. I found it disgusting.”

And immediately, like someone doused you in cold water, any feeling of horniness you had when you first felt his erection against you disappeared. You just felt so sad for him, but also angry. Angry that he had to go through all of that, and angrier that there was nothing you could do about it.

“So, why do you think you’re getting it now?” you asked. Perhaps talking about it in an objective manner would help guide him through his thought process.

“Are you kidding me?” he scoffed, “You’re fucking pressing your ass against my dick, what did you think would happen?”

“Wait, what?” your eyes widen, “You’re hard because of me?”

“No shit,” he said, “You’re hardly wearing any clothes, too.”

You shouldn’t feel happy due to the circumstance and context, but there you were ecstatic that he found you attractive enough to pop a boner after so long.

“Fuck,” he sighed, suddenly pressing himself closer to you.

His hand that draped over your waist when to actually grip it. Then, then, he grinded his hard on against your ass.

“Mmm,” he rumbled deeply, “Feels good.”

There. That was it. You were once again flooded with the feeling of heat that pooled at your stomach, a tingling sensation started at your core. Feeling hot despite the low temperature of the night, you clenched your thighs together, needing the slight pressure.

“Yeah?” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he grinded on you again, and then unexpectedly let out a chuckle.

“What is it?” you smiled, loving it whenever you heard him laugh.

“I thought… For the longest time, I thought I was broken. That he broke me,” he revealed, “I thought I needed to get all Wingardium Leviosa on this little fucker.”

“Oh my God,” you laughed and groaned at the same time, “You’re so fucking embarassing.”

He laughed along with you and continued. “But now I’m hard and- and horny. You made me feel like I’m normal again. Like I’m sixteen again, and getting horny over everything.”

Sometimes, we take the normal things for granted. Food, shelter, clothes. In this case, it was a goddamned boner. In a way, Jason’s erection was symbolic- however funny it sounded. Getting your sexual appetite and need back after being so traumatised was a massive leap for many people who had experienced the same thing.

It meant that Jason was healing well.

“Does that make you happy?” you asked.

“Not particularly,” he admitted, “But I’m definitely not sad either.”

“That’s good enough for now, then,” you beamed.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

Another few moments of silence. You could feel it, his cock pushing into you. However tempted you were to push back and grind, you held yourself still.

“Uh, Jason?” you voiced.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to like, take care of it?” you asked, “I mean. My bathroom is available. Or- there are many empty rooms.”

“No,” he simply stated.

“No?”

“No.”

“It’s kinda poking into me.”

“Just ignore it.”

“Ignore it?” you gaped, “How can I ignore it? You’re literally pressing it into my ass.”

“Well, then do you want to take care of it?” he teased.

You couldn’t argue back. “Fine, I’ll ignore it.”

He chuckled. “I’ll turn around.”

When he made the movement, you suddenly grabbed him by the wrist. “No, it’s fine. Stay here.”

You expected him to tease you like he usually would, make a crass comment, or even a ‘fuck off’.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around you again in silence, and the both of you drifted to sleep.

***

“Do you think this color suits me?” Natalie asked, holding up a floral red dress.

The four of you were at the mall in Diamond District. Now that high school was over, and everyone would be going off to separate colleges in a few months, you tried to spend time with each other as much as you could.

“Any color suits you, Nat,” you rolled your eyes, “You’re hot stuff.”

“Jesus, it’s like you’re shoving it in our faces at this point,” Sarah added, flipping her brunette hair to the side, tight curls flowing down.

“Aw, you guys,” Nat pretended to tear up, “I’m gonna miss you guys so much!”

“Not again,” Alex groaned, “We’ve been through this so many times.”

“I’m gonna be so miserable without you guys,” Natalie continued on, ignoring Alex’s interruption.

“I don’t know,” Sarah shrugged, “I think I’d enjoy New York. I can have pizza parties with the rats in my overpriced apartment.”

You chuckled at Sarah’s joke. Everyone was leaving Gotham except you. Deciding to continue with Robin, you opted for Gotham University- prestigious, old, and most importantly, close to home.

Your phone dinged in your pocket. You opened it to find texts from Dick.

Dick: OH MY GOD. Dick: I’m at the Manor. Dick: Was going to the Cave gym to work out. Dick: AND Dick: JASON IS HERE!!! WHAT DO I DO?!?!

That was new. Jason would usually just use whatever basic equipment he had in his room to work out. The fact that he was at the Cave’s sparring area where all the other fancier work out equipment were was out of the ordinary.

You: Just go. See if he reacts. If he suddenly stiffens and just stay there not doing anything, then leave. If he continues on, then it’s okay to stay- but don’t initiate anything! Dick: OKOKOK

You waited anxiously for Dick’s update. All four of you were now walking towards the food court, but you hardly listened to their bickering. Forty-five minutes passed before Dick texted you again.

Dick: OMG HE TALKED TO ME You: What did he say? Dick: He asked me to pass him his towel. You: That’s all he said? Dick: IT’S PROGRESS OKAY!!

Dick was right. It meant that Dick was now the third person Jason had spoken to. Adding another person to his list of contacts was definitely progress.

You were happy for him.

You:Is he still there? Dick: Nah he left Dick: But WOW he’s looking good. He must have been really going at it. I think he might get bigger than me soon You: All he does now is work out. He’s obsessed. Dick: Yeah I can tell

You decided to leave it at that for now and try to concentrate on your friends, but Dick sent another message.

Dick: ARE YOU TWO HAVING SEX?!?!

You spat out your drink, earning weird looks from everyone.

You: DICK!!!! WTF NO!!

Dick never replied.

***

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Jason asked, his voice breaking the silence of your dark room. The two of you were on your bed, lying down and staring at the ceiling.

“Of course,” you said. It didn’t matter to you what Jason asks for. He hardly ever asked for anything.

“Could you… Take me out tomorrow?” he requested, “If you’re not doing anything else, that is.”

“Uh, sure!” you nodded, surprised. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere,” he shrugged, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, okay,” you hesitated, “But- are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to go so far so quickly. Maybe you should start with just going to the backyard?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “I’m not a kid.”

“Okay then,” you agreed. “Tomorrow.”

You kept on glancing anxiously at him the next day as he climbed into the passenger seat of your car. He was quiet, but looked perfectly fine.

Switching the engine on, you drove out of the garage and out the large automatic gates. Trees soon surrounded the lonely road on both sides as you descended downhill into town.

“So where are we going?” he asked.

“I thought Robinson Park would be nice,” you said. It was around three in the afternoon, yet Gotham was dark as though the day was ending. It was cloudy, skies grey and wind blowing.

“You’re taking me to a park?” he scoffed.

“It’s more quiet than anywhere else,” you reasoned with him, “Less people. Spacious. Lots of greenery.”

“Whatever.”

Reaching the parking space of the park, you noticed that there were a few cars. Mothers and nannies liked to bring children out to the park around that time. Joggers and teens, college students and retired elderly seeking a little escape from the high rise buildings of concrete and glass.

You turned the engine off and proceeded to open the door, only then noticing Jason stiffening. Looking over to him, you saw that his eyebrows were pulled down in a deep frown, his jaw clenched, his hands in fists on his knees.

You didn’t say anything or make any comment. Leaning back into your seat, you waited until Jason was ready.

About five minutes passed before he took a deep breath, gave you a nod, and then opened his door.

The two of you walked along a path at the park, going deeper inside and further away from your car. There were a few joggers around, some tourists, and some teens taking photos. You saw a group of kids in the distance playing frisbee, and the others were walking their dogs.

An empty bench stood in the middle of the park, overlooking a clearing. You headed there, Jason following closely behind.

“It’s a bit gloomy today,” you pouted, “As if Gotham could be anything other than that, of course.”

You looked at Jason.

He looked like a scared dog being brought out for the first time.

His jittery knees were bouncing rapidly, his wide eyes were darting at every movement, his forehead was covered with a thin layer of sweat, and his breathing was heavy.

“Woah, woah,” you reached out to him, putting an arm on his back. “It’s okay. I’m here. Just listen to me talk, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he gulped.

“Try to calm your breathing,” you instructed, “Deep breaths, Jason. In… out… In… Out… Yeah, see that’s great.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, now calmer. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled warmly, “You’re doing just fine.”

“No, I’m not,” he strained, “I feel like everything is too big. Too vast. The fucking sky looks like it’s going to crash down on me and at the same time suck me up into a void.”

“And despite all you’re feeling right now, you’re not breaking down or anything, are you?” you tried, “You’re okay, Jason. This is progress.”

“I guess,” he sighed, “I’m just- I’m so used to having four walls and a ceiling. Now everything feels too big.”

“I understand,” you empathized, “Whenever you want to go back, just say the word. Or we can even just go and sit in the car. No problem.”

“Yeah, okay, let’s do that,” he stood up.

The walk back to the car was faster.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.

“No, you’re not,” you reassured him, “That was great, Jason. Come on, it was your first time outside in two years and a half. Cut yourself some slack.”

“I’m so fucking broken,” he choked.

“Don’t say that,” you scolded, “You’re not broken. And you know what, even if you think you are, we can always fix it. Baby steps. Maybe we can do this once a week. We were out for like, ten minutes? Next week we’ll try fifteen. How’s that sound?”

“Twice a week,” he stated, “I just want to be normal again.”

“Okay, twice a week, then,” you agreed, “We’ll try again in a couple of days, okay?”

“Okay,” he paused, “Thank you.”

“No problemo,” you grinned, “Would you like to stay here a bit longer or shall we go back?”

“Let’s go back.”

“Wanna stop by the diner? You can wait in the car while I ask for a take-away?”

“...okay.”

***

Jason and you had gone out twice more. Once three days after the first time, and the other a week later. The second time he went out, he lasted twenty minutes, though you were sure he was being stubborn on his part. He looked like he was having a heart attack, but he insisted on staying until he hit the twenty minute mark.

The third time, he was much much better. Surprisingly so. The two of you sat down on that bench for half an hour, with you even leaving him alone for a few minutes to get two ice cream cones.

After that, you took him for a drive around the city. He seemed to be more comfortable in the car, so you went all the way from Robinson Park to Diamond District, and back to the manor.

Bruce seemed very pleased with your update, and you swore you could see him actually smile.

“Thank you,” he had told you. “You’ve done more than I could have ever asked of you.”

“It’s no problem, Bruce. Really,” you reassured him.

“I’m his father. He is my responsibility. It’s my fault he’s even in that state. I wish I could do more for him,” he said solemnly.

“The fact that you understand what he needs is more than helpful, Bruce,” you smiled, “Not many parents can do that. You understand and respect him. That’s enough for now.”

He simply nodded.

Ever since your scheduled outings, Jason had become more and more relaxed whenever he was in the manor. He now walked to the kitchen on occasion to mess with Alfred while he cooked meals for him, sometimes sitting in the living room lounging on the couch while reading. Most of the time, though, he was down at the sparring zone of the Cave, working out.

But at night, he would never fail to knock on your door.

And at that particular night, you found yourself in the same situation again while lying down on your side with your back to his front, for the fifth time.

“You officially have to stop calling yourself broken,” you grumbled, “Because that thing poking into my ass is definitely not broken.”

He chuckled lowly. “You complaining, sweetheart?”

Oh, and yes. Jason now had started calling you ‘sweetheart’. Why? You had no clue. It was just a thing that happened. The look on your face when he first slipped it in was probably a sight to behold.

“No shit, I’m complaining, Jason,” you groaned, “You haven’t jerked off, yet? Not even once?”

“Nope,” he popped the P, “I just… I don’t want to… I don’t want to come.”

You sighed, understanding the situation. He had been disgusted with himself because he had ejaculated when Joker… Well, that. You hated to even think about it, so you always shoved the thought away.

“But unfortunately for me, I still get super horny,” he rumbled deeply, pushing his hips into you even more, “So fucking horny.”

��And then I have to suffer,” you complained.

“I can assure you, blue balls are more painful than something poking into you,” he bickered.

“It’s not that…”

“Then?”

“I get horny too, come on man,” you whined, “I’m a hormonal teenage girl. What did you expect?”

“You get horny too?” he whispered after a pause.

“Uh, yeah,” you admitted nervously. Somehow, the mood shifted, and your heart started drumming against your chest.

“Because of me?” he asked.

“Not you specifically, I mean,” you tried to back track, “You’re… Your dick pressing up against me like that, I mean, come on, Jason.”

“Simple question sweetheart,” he told you, “You get horny because of me, yes or no?”

You gulped. “Yes.”

Fuck, why did you say yes? You could have lied. You could have not answered.

“Yeah?” he breathed. You noticed that his hand was now on your hip, right above the waistband of your sleeping shorts, drawing circles onto your skin with his thumb.

You were nervous. The butterflies in your tummy was not helping you calm down.

“Yeah,” you squeezed your eyes shut, as if to protect yourself from anything he had to say.

“Fuck,” he groaned, gripping your hips and grinding his hard on against your ass even more. And did it… Fuck, did it get even harder?

Afraid of saying the wrong thing, and also out of nervousness, you remained silent. Jason’s chest rose and fall against your back, his respiratory rate increasing. His pinky finger slid underneath the waistband, testing the waters before slowly slipping his hand into your pants.

He went in so slowly, as if waiting for you to tell him no, to rip his hand away, to wrench yourself away from him. But you never did, so he went in deeper, caressing the skin beneath your pelvic bone, his heat just burning into you.

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” he commented, voice suddenly husky.

“I don’t wear them to bed,” you informed him.

“You mean to tell me,” he growled, “That all this while I’ve been sleeping next to you and you never had your panties on?”

“It’s more comfortable that way,” you mumbled.

“Jesus Christ,” he cursed. “Thank God I never knew. Would have been torture, and trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

“Jason,” you gasped.

“It’s true,” he said, “Damn, sweetheart.”

He went lower, closer to your center.

Your core was tingly, small pulses of electricity buzzed through your body as Jason came closer and closer and closer and-

He slipped his hands between your closed thighs and cupped you.

“Mmm,” he moaned softly, “Warm. Fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy?” you laughed, even though you felt like screaming on the inside. Screaming for more.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, burying his face into your nape, taking a deep breath. “You smell nice.”

Oh, shit. You totally forgot about Jason’s aversion to strong smells.

“I’m sorry!” you quickly apologised, “I can switch to an unscented shampoo as well so it wouldn’t be too strong for you.”

“It’s fine,” he said, “I like it on you.”

He ground his hand into your center harder.

“Mmpf, Jay,” you breathed, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “I’ve never touched a girl like this before.”

“Really?” you widen your eyes in surprise.

“I was kept in a cell for two years, I couldn’t exactly talk, let alone touch, anyone can I?” he quipped.

“Right.”

“Teach me,” he said.

“What?” you whispered despite knowing what he meant.

A pause of silence. A deep intake of breath, a slow exhale.

“Teach me how to touch you,” he purred.

Fuck, you felt like exploding.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yes. If you… If you want to.”

Your mind quickly tried to analyse the situation. Bruce had specifically said that Jason didn’t need any complicated matters in the relationship. It made sense. You didn’t want to overwhelm Jason with any confusion or uncertainty.

But at the same time, you’ve been figuring out how Jason thought, bit by bit. He’s told you many times that he just wanted to be normal again, to feel normal, to do normal things. And this was something that was normal, that he should do, that he wanted to do.

And you knew that he probably would take the rejection even worse.

“O-Okay,” you agreed.

Slowly, you separated your thighs, raising the one on top and hooking it over his legs behind you. Due to your shift in position, you felt the minute Jason’s fingers dip slightly into your folds.

“So, uh, this is my first time with a guy as well,” you squeaked, “But I’ll try to guide you.”

You licked your lips.

“Uhm, well, I guess you can start by running a finger up and down between my- oh! Yes, just like that.”

His middle finger slid down to your opening, and then up again slowly. His movements were uncertain, brushing only slightly against your clit unintentionally.

It was different, having someone else touch you. Somehow, despite the inexperience, it just felt better.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, “You’re so fucking wet. Do you usually get this wet?”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “No? Yes? I don’t know! I can’t feel it.”

“Shit.”

You let him play with you some more, his fingers sliding up and down, sometimes pressing against your fleshy parts, sometimes circling and gathering your wetness, sometimes just parting your lips. Hell, he even tapped the tips of his fingers on you randomly or brushed into your delicate fuzz. You knew he was just exploring, feeling you for the first time.

And that thought made you smile and sigh.

“Teach me how to make you feel good,” he rasped.

“Uh, so your fingers are wet, right?”

“Yeah. Because you’re leaking all over them.”

“Okay, good. Now find my clit. It’s slightly above your finger, okay, to the left a bit. More. Okay, there! Yeah, right there,” you sighed, finally feeling that delicious pressure.

“Here?”

He tapped your clit.

“Ah!” you moaned, “Yes- but don’t just- nevermind, just gently circle it. Clockwise.”

He obeyed, and hell since when did Jason just obey?

He circled you gently, like you said. But he also went so, so slow.

“Faster, Jay,” you panted.

He went faster, making you groan in pleasure.

“Like this, sweetheart?” he muttered, his voice low and cracking, and sexy, and husky. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and it drove you wild.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “Yeah, just like that. Fuck.”

“Feel good?”

“So good, Jay. Press a little harder now- fuck. Fuck. Yes, perfect. Just like that.”

The pressure built as his fingers did their magic.

“You- you’re surprisingly good at that,” you stuttered, “You sure- mmm- you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Despite what you think,” he husked in your ear, warm breath tickling you. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“I can see that.”

“But I’m also good at improvising.”

“Wha- oh. Oh. Fuck! Jason! Oh my fucking god!”

He started pressing even harder, and going even faster, throwing away the slow build you were going for and instead pushing you towards orgasm fast and hard, as if he was determined to prove something to you.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” he purred, “You gonna come soon?”

“Oh my- fuck, yes! Fuck, don’t stop!”

“You want to come for me?” his deep voice rumbled.

“Yes!”

What the hell? When did he learn how to talk like that?

Because with the mix of his heavy pants, his low voice coaxing you, his barrage of pleasure at your clit, you felt the familiar tightening of your core. You threw one hand back and found his hair. Running your fingers through them, you gripped them tight and pulled.

You pulled on his hair as he forced the orgasm onto you.

“Oh my God. Jason, I’m gonna- fuck- I’m- fuck- ah!”

You moaned loudly as you felt your walls flutter, clenching over nothing as you reached your high.

“O-okay, stop, fuck,” your hand went from his hair to his wrist, stilling him. He withdrew his hands from your pants, and went to grip you tight again by the waist.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart,” he groaned, grinding into you. You pushed your ass back, feeling his hardened length against your flesh in your post-orgasm bliss. “Jesus, that was so hot.”

“That was- yeah,” you giggled, “Fuck.”

His face was still buried in your neck. You could feel his lips on your skin.

“Uhm, I can, you know,” you sputtered, “Try to help you out?”

“It’s fine,” he breathed, body still tight against yours, “Just go to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” you asked again, feeling guilty that he didn’t get off. “I don’t mind.”

“I do,” he said, “It’s okay, sweetheart. That was great. I enjoyed that. I told you, I don’t want to come.”

“Okay,” you sighed.

“Go to bed.”

“Thank you, Jason.”

“Fuck, I’m so horny.”

“Jason,” you whined, “Really, I can help-”

“I’m kidding,” he chuckled, “Goodnight.”

You pursed your lips.

“Goodnight.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #robin #jason todd imagine #dont call me that

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stonebreakerseries · 4 years

Text

Aftermath (Adiran and Riin)

So this started as a sappy meme prompt about two people touching forward and the stubborn one whispering ‘I missed you’, then turned into a 2200 word monster. Because apparently I have no chill. Who knew.

This is quite spoilery, so if anyone cares about that, read at your own risk!

-------------------

Everything had happened too quickly. Too quickly for Adiran to pause and think. Too quickly for his mind to catch up with what he was seeing, yet alone what he was doing. Now, as waves beat against the ship’s hull, the lights of Vetrose grew smaller and smaller until they were no more than pinpricks on the horizon. Hundreds of tiny, earth-bound stars. All his life, Adiran had never seen those lights slip into the distance like that. It had always been the other way around; always been the lights of Talvera’s capital rising to meet him as he returned from a day on the road, lanterns bleeding life into streets and windows.

Would he ever see those lights again?

Movement to his right caught his attention. Riin was sweating, his skin ashen, his body wracked with tremors. He was trying to heal. Or at least, that’s what Adiran assumed was happening. He didn’t know enough about the Kyriin, yet alone the black-eyed krea morei, to say for certain. All he knew was that Riin had burned through what little strength he had left during their escape from the palace. Divider, just thinking about how close they had come to being caught sent a chill down Adiran’s spine. If he hadn’t called in his favour with Crosus - if the Northerner hadn’t come through for them and carried Riin from the upper city to the docks - they might not have made it at all.

A familiar sensation, like a hand closing around his throat, sent his heart into a stammer. With a shaky gasp, Adiran reached up, knotting his fingers in his sweat-damp hair. Stop it. You idiot. You’re out. No one caught you. Everything is fine. Everything will be fine.

For now.

Deep down, Adiran knew that the King and Queen would hunt for them. Try to spin their escape as some kind of kidnapping; anything not to lose face in the spiteful eye of the court. But there was more to it than that. A missing prince warranted a bitter, desperate search - one that wouldn’t raise any suspicions. The fact that they were actually after Riin didn’t matter. All Talvera would see were two panicked parents. Not monsters chasing what he had stolen from them.

No.

The thought - that single word - arrived so hard and so bitter that Adiran could taste it on his tongue. No. He hadn’t stolen a damn thing. They had no contract. No claim. No right to Riin, as man or soldier or prisoner. No one did.

I should have seen him off. I should have insisted. Made sure he...

Guilt, like a restless snake, twisted inside Adiran, hollowing out a pit in his stomach. Divider, he’d let a full season pass in a self-absorbed haze, barely looking up from his own loneliness. If he’d just been paying attention, he might have realised something wasn’t right. He might have been able to...

A soft groan, lower than the protests of the ship’s aging wood, pulled Adiran from his thoughts. He looked up, heart stammering to a near-halt as he leaned over the makeshift bed. Hope, like baited breath, knotted at the back of his throat.

“Riin?”

The Kyriin’s brow was tense; a furrowed echo of a deeper pain. Agony was etched in every line of his face; every clenched muscle. In any other moment, Adiran might have taken him for having a bad dream. A true, burning nightmare.

Maybe he was. Certainly no one would blame him.

“Hey…” Adiran hated the way he sounded. Hated the way his voice felt so hollow. Uncertain. Afraid. Weak. But instead of flinching from it like a hand from a flame, he forced himself to move closer. To reach out and rest his hand over Riin’s. “Can you hear me?”

Adiran knew it was a long-shot. Even before, back in the palace undercroft, Riin’s lucidity had been a short-lived, flickering thing, erratic as a candle on a windowsill. Divider, Adiran would never forget the way Riin had looked at him, when he’d forced his way through the cell door. His eyes, framed by dark circles and bled half-way black, had seared into him like hot iron. Thick blood, dark as pitch, was dried in layers on his skin; had soaked into his ruined clothes. It was impossible to tell how long it had been there.

Adiran wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, when he hit the bottom of those uneven stairs. All he knew for certain was that, after that heart-stopping moment of recognition, Riin had hated him.

And he’d had every reason to.

Sitting there, his hand a feeble warmth against Riin’s icy skin, a new fear slowly crawled its way up from the bottom of Adiran’s chest. In the frantic mess of unlocking chains and checking wounds, Riin had clearly set aside any mistrust for a chance at freedom, no matter how slim. Even if came at the hands of someone he despised. The entire time, he’d barely spoken to Adiran. But the first words he’d said had been a knife to the gut.

So, it was all true. He’d gave a bitter laugh. Or was it broken? I wondered how long it would take for them to send you here.

He should have said something. Thinking back, he needed to have said something. But he hadn’t. In the moment, he’d been too focused on escape. Too terrified that Lirea would betray him, and the palace guard would come flooding in like rats to a carcass. There hadn’t been time for reassurances, or the truth, or---

“You’re... hurt...”

Adiran jolted, nearly losing his balance between the narrow crate and the uncertain sway of the ship. Riin’s voice was raw, ragged from screaming his pain and fury to unfeeling stone. The words were barely able to cross the narrow distance between them. He was awake, watching him feverishly, one eye a clear amber, the other drenched in shadow. A dark stain, like spilled ink, spread from the inner corner to the furthest edge of his iris.

There he was, with one foot in the grave, worrying about everyone but himself.

“What? Are you s---” To Adiran’s surprise, his voice hitched. Once the shock had passed, he cleared his throat sharply. “Are you serious? Fuck how I am. I’m nothing. I’m fine. I’m…” Slowly, he realised that Riin’s eyes had drifted down to where their hands were resting, one atop the other. Without intending to, Adiran’s fingers had somehow managed to avoid the ruined skin ringing Riin’s wrist. In a rush, he realised he’d never actually seen Riin bruise before, yet alone bleed. It was childish - sheer foolishness - but he hadn’t actually thought it was possible. Even after eight years of sparring together - eight years of swords and sand - he had been convinced Riin was untouchable. Invincible.

But in the wrong hands - hands willing to scrape and grind - even the strongest stone would eventually break.

Riin’s breathing was shallow. Worryingly so. Still, he forced himself to speak, the words limping from his lips. “N-No... you’re not f---.”

---“Stop.” Adiran barely recognised his own voice, pleading and pathetic. All of a sudden, he was a child again, curled in the corner of his room, his first bruise blossoming on his upper arm. “Damn it, Riin - don’t. Don’t make this about me. Not now. You… you’re…”

He couldn’t find the words. Couldn’t say them. What could he possibly say? You’re hurt? You’re shaking? You’re terrifying me?

“You’re crying.”

Adiran froze. His awareness, weaponised over the past hours like an out-turned blade, faltered at Riin’s words. Then, slowly, it angled inward. In that hanging silence, his sense of self slipped back beneath his skin, and Adiran finally realised that yes. He was.

“I’m not... it’s nothing.” Roughly, he pressed the heel of his free hand to both eyes, swiping away the offending tears. There was too much to say. Too many emotions pushing against this skull, ravaging his chest, crowding his throat. “I’m just… I...” Like betrayal, a sob broke past his defenses, weak from exhaustion. Weak from relief. “I’m sorry. Riin, I’m so f-fucking sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t even think...”

The shame was too much. Adiran cracked. Curved forward. Buried his face in his hand and just cried. It was all too much, but at the same time nowhere near enough, as though he was deep inside his body and outside and around it all at once. He knew he had to stop. That this wasn’t the time. His guilt wouldn’t help anyone, yet alone Riin. It was just another burden; a capstone atop the torture he had already endured. Divider, Adiran didn’t even know what he had been through. The extent of the pain he was in. How deep those wounds truly ran. But he knew what he should have said, back when he had first laid eyes on his friend in that dark cell. When he’d first seen the blood, smelled the sour sweat, tasted the rot on the back of his tongue. An apology was not enough. He knew that. No words could ever undo what had been done. But Divider, that didn’t make it any less of the truth.

If Riin let him, he’d spend the rest of his life proving it. It was the least he could do for the only man he’d ever called friend.

Suddenly, Adiran felt a pressure on top of his hand. Heavy, but without force. Without roughness. Part of him knew that, if Riin had the strength, he would have squeezed. Maybe in reassurance. Maybe in forgiveness. Maybe just in tribute to the bond they had shared; one that had surely been severed, now. But, when Adiran finally looked up, only one thing had truly changed. Riin’s gaze was resting on him. Quiet. Pained. Feverish. Relieved.

But the hate, seared so clearly and so terribly into Adiran’s memory, was gone.

“I knew,” Riin breathed. “I knew y---AH!” Suddenly, he cried out, arching, gritting his teeth as his upper body spasmed. Maybe it was a fit. Maybe it was pieces of bone snapping back into place beneath his skin. Regardless, all Adiran could do was look on, horrified, and hold his hand through it, wishing feverishly that he knew how to make it stop. It passed in seconds that felt like minutes. It left Riin gasping, shaking, tangled in his thin blanket, skin soaked with sweat. Just as Adiran was about to scramble to his feet and call for help, Riin’s weak voice reached out from the bed, like a hand snagging the corner of his shirt.

“I-I knew you couldn’t have… they said... so many things. But I didn’t...”

Adiran just nodded, not quite understanding. almost afraid to. Just thinking about what Riin might have been told - things to make him break - turned Adiran’s stomach. Cheeks damp, throat tight, Adiran just shifted closer instead, his thumb stroking the back of Riin’s hand in a feeble attempt to smooth away the pain. “Whatever those bastards told you, they were lying,” he said, because he desperately needed him to hear it. To know it the way Adiran knew every line of Riin’s face. Every scar on his hands. “I swear on my life, Riin, if I’d known…”

Slowly, Adiran trailed off. Partly because he didn’t know how to finish the sentence. If he’d known… then what? How would he have stopped it? Would he have challenged the King and Queen - his own family? Would he have kicked and screamed and threatened his way into his own set of shackles?

He didn’t know what would have happened. Maybe they would have both found themselves in chains, Inquisitors cutting bored slices from their skin. Just the thought of it was enough to turn Adiran’s stomach. If he’d been there - if he’d been forced to watch... Divider, he would have told them anything. Anything to make them stop.

Would Riin have broken his oath and done the same?

Luckily, there was no immediate pressure for Adiran to finish his hanging sentence. At some point in the silence, Riin’s breathing had slowed its pace into something halfway resembling sleep. His hand lay limp in Adiran’s, but somehow, he just couldn’t bring himself to untangle their fingers. Not just yet.

Instead, Adiran hesitated, then leaned forward until their faces were just inches apart. Slowly, tiredly, he closed his eyes, exhaled, and gently rested his forehead against Riin’s. Their lashes brushed, their breath mingled, and just for a moment, he let himself feel it. Really feel it. Just for long enough to remind him that the man he cared for more than anyone else was really, truly there. Beaten and bruised. Alive and wonderful.

“I missed you,” Adiran breathed. The confession fell from his lips more easily than his own name. And, for the first time, he didn’t care if anyone heard him say it.

They would get through this.

Somehow, they would get through this,

#StonebreakerSeries #adiran #riin #short #adiran riin #adiran short #adiran riin short #adiran writing #riin writing

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noir0neko · 4 years

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Would it be cool to request some sweet Namjoon fluff? I wouldn't even know what about. Feel free to make it about whatever you like. Also I hope you're healthy and safe, it's good to see you again

You look at him through the corner of your eye, taking in his dark eyes and bleach blonde hair. The dew of his skin glints off the setting sun, his smile almost blinding in the evening light. You and Namjoon have been attending this festival every single year, from when you were children with your parents until now, when it became the convenient halfway point between where you both went to college, on opposite sides of the state.

After seeing somebody nearly every day for eighteen years, it quickly became odd to see them only a handful of times every semester. Some days missing him was a heavy weight in your chest, pushing you down until you texted him some meme to start a conversation. Other days, you buried it in the bottom of a red solo cup, or another guy’s lips at a frat party just to feel something other than nostalgia. Most days it was just a dull ache, a silent stone in your heart that didn’t sit right, didn’t like you breathe until you saw him again.

“Are you alright?” Namjoon asks, waving his hand in front of your face. His pink lips are quirked into a half smile.

You blink, scrunching your nose and shaking your head as if to clear an invisible fog. “Yeah. Just happy to be here with you.”

His face softens, the corners of his eyes creasing. The music from the evening concert begins to flow, something melodic and sweet, almost as entrancing as the words Namjoon set to music in his garage studio. His long legs set an forgivable pace as he weaves through the crowd.

“Where are you going?” You ask, nearly panting. “Slow down.”

“Sorry,” he looks over his shoulder, throwing you a mischievous grin. “But we have to hurry.”

Before you can get in another word, Namjoon is reaching back to grab your hand, elegant fingers wrapping themselves around yours. You can feel your body temperature rise despite the chill in the air. His pulse is beating steadily in his wrist, yours seeming to skip and leap in response, keeping time. He reaches the edge of the festival and keeps going, cresting over a small hill, where the darkness has settled deeper from the lack of firelight.

“Where are we?” You ask as Namjoon’s pace slows.

“I figured it would be a good spot to watch the festival in peace.” Namjoon responds, licking his lips and stopping so abruptly you slam into his back. With a chuckle, he plants his hands on your shoulders and spins you around. The entire festival lights up the valley below you, lights and music and voices fluttering about. You can see the stage perfectly, bright beams of spotlight and loud instruments cascading through the grass.

“Namjoon...I-” You smile at him, at a loss for words. “It’s perfect. How did we not see this before?”

“We did,” he corrects, stepping closer. “Or I did. Someone else was always up here first. But this year,” he continues, cocking his head to the side slightly, “I wanted to get to it first. With you.”

Your smile widens, shaking your head. “What good is a plan if it doesn’t take more than ten years to happen?” You joke.

He is looking at you, his eyes deep and thoughtful. Your stomach pushes into your throat, smile fading as a blush threatens to color your cheeks. He takes another step towards you, his breath coming out in puffs from his lips. You try not to stare at them, try not to watch them as they form your name, the sound so deliciously sweet in your ears.

“I’ve missed you,” he says, voice a hundred times deeper than before.

As if on a whim, he reaches out to catch the hairs that float across your face in the wind, brushing them behind your ears with the most subtle touch. He leaves blooms in his wake, each point of contact watering some deep slumbering flower within you. He is like a spark, setting you ablaze with the swiftest touch.

“I missed you too. Everyday I do.” You return, breathless. “I wish we could go back to how it was.”

“I don’t” he says. His hand lingers in the air, a silent invitation. A question. You step into it, letting his palm rub against your face.

His hands are warm against your cheek and when his thumb parts your lips softly, your entire body ignites on fire. You are afraid to breathe. Afraid that one small sound or movement will disrupt this moment, despite the concert and people bellowing below you. He leans forward, the light glinting off his hair and creating illusions in your eyes, which are involuntary drifting shut.

It’s like he has a halo. An angel.

“I don’t want to go back to how it was.” His lips move right above yours with such quick honesty that you’re struggling not to fall off the cliff with every word he says. “Because back then I didn’t know how much I would hate being without you. Then I didn’t know how much you meant to me. How much you brightened up my life. Then I didn’t know that I love you.”

He whispers your name softly after he says it, the syllables like a prayer carried in the wind. Your hands itch to touch him, to pull him into you and never let go again. You had known the moment you saw him off, the second he closed that car door and disappeared around the corner, all of his belongings in the trunk and his engine roaring in your ears, that you wished to go with him. That you didn’t want to be where he wasn’t. That somehow, over the years, his nimble fingers and intelligent lips has weaseled their way into your heart. And that he had it. Stuffed among his things when he left.

And he is right here in front of you, lips a hairs breath from yours before they collide, two souls intertwining with such sweet serendipity. Your hands come out of their stupor, immediately tightening themselves around the back of his shirt, taking a fistful of the soft fabric in your fingers. His hair tickles your forehead, tongue parting your lips to slip along yours with a soft and gentle caress. It feels like he is blowing you a part and putting you back together at the same time.

You had known what this was all along. He had too. You had known the moment you became shovel buddies on the playground digging up sand and bark to build an empire all your own. You had continued building that empire for years, kindling the spark into a flame that burned brighter and hotter than any you had ever felt. An empire of passion. Of love.

Your breath catches, eyes staring into his with equal intensity when he pulls back slowly to look at you. You’re not sure whether to burst out crying or kiss him again. The water he had been pouring into you for years breaks from the dam you had carefully constructed, bursting into your heart and lifting away all of the stones. It is only him. All of him that flows through you. As he returns your heart and fills it with him. There could never be anyone but him. You always knew that. Most empires fall, but this one would not.

“I love you,” your voice breaks, emotion leaking from your lips.

And when he kisses you again, any notion of tears burn up inside of you as he continues to light your world on fire.

~Admin Eggplant

#ya know it takes me just as long to find a gif as it does write the fic lmao #namjoon fluff #rm fluff #bts fluff #kim namjoon fluff #fluff #bangtan fluff #kpop fluff #cute #bts cute #bts requests: drabbles

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a-cai-jpg · 5 years

Text

this is a very stilted post.

I have a collection of songs that make me cry.

I'm not in the habit of playing them very often. I don't even save them in my YouTube favorites, or my wormhole of a Spotify account. I kind of leave it up to fate for the familiar melody and lyrics to find me again, and on days where I feel especially brave, I'll queue it up on a drive. But only on a drive.

I watched a variety show about songwriters a few months back, and one of my favorite contestants said something along the lines of, "I think everyone has a theme that they just can't touch."

Sometimes, it's because the pain is still too raw. Sometimes, it's because we're too fearful to truly reckon with the sorrow, unwilling to drink it in, let it roll around in our mouths as the bitter flavor penetrates our tongue, and feel it burn on the way down.

I don't listen to the songs often because I'm afraid I'll become desensitized, that the most humane and most compassionate part of me will become numb.

But also because I'm not in the business of seeking out pain.

I used to be obsessed with tragedy, chasing it with a sort of masochistic relish because I thought you could never be as human as you were when you cried. It's kind of like why people really like those sad, touching Thai commercials that make you bawl your eyes out without fail every time.

But as I grew older, I realized there really is something that I can't touch. Sometimes, I tongue the edges of it, prodding with caution, but only on very, very rare occasions do I peel away the protective layer. There are some things I can't watch, can't listen to too closely, or else I'll feel myself unravel around the edges.

And not gonna lie, but now is not a time I'm willing to tug at the ends of the thread. So instead, I'll let a past me do that.

When I was a sophomore in university, I submitted a monologue for the annual Asian cultural show. It was submitted anonymously, because at the time, it wasn't something I was ready to talk about.

(it still isn't, but i have gotten more practice talking about it in the years that have elapsed.)

See, what had happened was, I was watching Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo (disappointment of my life, sorry the Chinese version is better even though the Korean cast is bEaUtIfUl), and suddenly, I had a mini-panic attack about death.

It was the dumbest thing. I was watching Park Soondeok try to woo Wang Eun, and the silly girl--bless her heart--hunted a whole bear to express her love for him. I remember the scene had startled me, because she popped on screen with a bear skin covering her body. And I was like, "Uh that's like, a lot of bad karma right."

And I don't really know how karma works, but I suddenly remembered something that my grandmother had said a long time ago. She said that she was a sinner, because she's "killed" so much for our family.

In Chinese, the words she used were 杀生, which literally means "kill life" but generally, animal life.

She said it because she is the main chef of our family. Whenever she visited China, our family would go through a bit of crisis because that meant either my grandfather cooked or my mom's boyfriend cooked.

Once, my grandfather served me Palmier cookies and the same fried rice we'd eaten for a week for dinner. Often, my mom's boyfriend chopped up carrots and celery to dip with ranch for dinner.

It was great.

(no, but our family barely functioned when my grandmother was gone. those six months would be us sitting silently around the dinner table, daring each other to be the first to try a dish.)

Weirdly, that little thing she said stuck with me. And in that moment, sophomore year of college, sitting in my top bunk watching Scarlet Heart Ryeo, I panicked.

I can't really dissect why I panicked. But the result was this ridiculous plan that I had to stop eating meat for the rest of my life to collect all the good karma for my grandmother.

(yeah, so that didn't last because I literally got sausages that weekend cus hello, continental breakfast.)

It wasn't that I never thought about death or my family members dying before then. In the second grade, I read a story about the friendship between a squirrel and a leaf, and cried and cried and cried when the story ended and the leaf died, not because the leaf died but because the leaf promised to be reborn, and would be reborn at the turn of the year, but humans wouldn't be.

But for some reason, all of the separate moments of panic and fear dispersed over a decade culminated in that moment, as I watched Soodeok pull the bearskin off of her head, and I started crying so hard I couldn't breathe.

So I wrote a monologue. The original draft was very, very long and very, very detailed, and I probably went through half a box of tissues writing it. I eventually cut it down and didn't save the first copy because I never wanted to read it again.

The theme of the monologue comes up every time I talk about my Chinese American identity. It comes up in personal statements, in creative narratives, in discussion groups, and in the Facebook likes I dish out whenever I see a relevant Subtle Asian Traits post. It's the sense of biculturalism and the accompanying endeavor to somehow reconcile my reality with that of my immigrant parents and grandparents. It's the weary acceptance that ultimately, there may be no reconciliation, and all that's left is regret.

Whenever someone asks me what my favorite food is, I would say spring onion noodles. But this is the funny part--I will never order them in a restaurant. Some time in middle school, I went on a family trip with my extended relatives in China. Every time we stopped to eat, my aunt would order me a bowl of spring onion noodles because she knew I loved it so much, and every time, I would make a face and say, "Grandma does it better."

See, I don't know if she actually does. I just knew I liked hers more.

After my grandmother returned to China, I started making spring onion noodles myself, because it tasted more like home even if I never got it right.

I also really like dumplings. My grandma makes the best dumplings, but I'm afraid to ask her to make them, because the last time I did, they were too salty. Now, I'm afraid to ask her to make spring onion noodles too, because maybe my memories tasted better than the real thing.

But the real, real reason I'm scared is that I'm scared she's getting old. I'm scared her tastebuds are not the same as they were when she lived in Monterey Park, cooking in our second floor kitchen.

In my senior year of college, I called my grandmother for the first time on my own. The moment I heard her voice, staticky over the long distance call, I started crying, and it was stupid because I had to pretend I wasn't crying and I was trying to talk normally and it was awful because it was the kind where your voice came in hiccupy stutters, and she definitely knew I was crying because she kept asking, "Why did you call? What's wrong?" while acting casual, for my sake.

When I was in the eighth grade, I was walking a friend's German Shepherd that ended up dragging me across the pavement in the park. It's a story I tell a lot, because it is truly hilarious in hindsight, but the ending goes like this:

I go home crying, because my glasses broke and I have cuts on the back of my left hand and down my face. I take a bath, something I grew out of doing years ago, and my grandmother doesn't reprimand me. She sits next to me and speaks in that vaguely disapproving voice of her, the tone of so many old Asian ladies, and tells me that life is hard and you will meet people that you don't get along with, but you just have to suck it up. And I start crying harder, because she cared.

That day, she also followed me from the front door of our house to my mom's master bathroom, asking, "What's wrong?"

We talk a lot about the Chinese zodiac in our household, more when my grandmother and grandfather still lived with us, but my aunt brought it up a few days ago. In the Chinese zodiac, the ox and the sheep are foils to each other--me and my grandmother. When I was little, I would say, "Ugh, this is why we fight so often." A few days ago, my mom said, "That's why you and grandma never got along," and I stayed silent.

I sometimes tell people that my grandmother is more like my mother figure, and my mom is more like an older sister. And my mom hates it. But, it's because everything that others associate with an Asian mom, I associate with my grandmother. All the memes about immigrant mother bringing their children peeled and cut fruit are about my grandmother, fending off my complaints about having to eat apples every single day, and stubbornly bringing me sliced apples and pears. All the stories about immigrant parents expressing their love through the words "Come eat. Food is ready," is my grandmother who singlehandedly kept her family together through sheer will and a kitchen stove.

Sometimes, when I'm brave enough to talk to people about how I feel about her, I would say that I would gladly give her half of the rest of my life, just so we can leave together. I'm scared her life would be less than perfect, and I wish I made money earlier so I can take her to Cambridge and Rome, but I'm also scared that I'm selfish and weak and unable to give her what she really wants.

Anyways.

Four tissues later, here's the monologue:

I am obsessed with time.

I am obsessed with time, but I hate the way the second hand moves relentlessly in an endless loop on the face of an old clock. I am obsessed with time, but I hate the way the mention of it tightens my throat, squeezing until the pressure travels to my heart and lungs, and finally settling somewhere deep in my gut.

I was told that time is linear. The Second Law of Thermodynamics. Chaos and disorder grow infinitely—there is no going back.

When I was little and time was but a tiny grain of sand in a large, foreboding hourglass, I believed in guardian angels. They were the ones who caught me tumbling from a swing, having flown too high on my too weak wings. They were the ones who waited outside the gates of my elementary school—a familiar face of comfort floating amidst a crowd of foreign visages. They were the ones who promised me plates and plates of hand-wrapped dumplings, and most importantly, they were the only ones who could cook spring onion noodles with a sunny side up egg the way I liked it, and no restaurant could ever hope to get the taste just the same.

But also, when I was little, I believed that guardian angels existed outside of time. They were immortal, they gave me life. But as the number of years they conferred to me increased, they seemed to become more and more human.

Sometimes, I’d blink, and for a terrifying moment, I’d catch glimpse of an elderly couple, backs hunched and hair splattered with grey, standing in my kitchen.

This is me, a girl obsessed with time. I had the liberty of being born and raised in the United States. My Chinese immigrant parents labored long days at work, and my grandparents were given the roles as my primary caretakers.

My grandfather was the quiet one, a retired electrical engineer who made it his mission to somehow teach me to love mathematics. My grandmother was the loud one, previously a librarian—the irony, I know—who never went to college but could calculate prices of groceries faster than I could pull out a calculator. I grew up dancing around their peculiar dynamic, seesawing back and forth between going ant-watching with my grandfather as I recited the Chinese timestables and trying to finish too many platters of food my grandmother piled in front of me as she told me stories of life back in China—in the good old days.

Growing up in California, it was inevitable that I saw the United States as home to both me and my family. It was where I had spent nearly two decades of my life—and where my mother, grandmother, and grandfather had spent nearly two decades of their lives.

And yet, two decades was not nearly enough time. Space could not be reconciled, and time was rendered obsolete.

Home, for them, was not our little town in the suburbs of LA. When my father passed away, my mother said, “We don’t have enough money to bring him home.” She’d said it carelessly in front of me, perhaps thinking 6-year-old me wouldn’t notice, let alone understand. But 6-year-old me did. Home, I realized, for them wasn’t home for me.

The thought was terrifying. I realized that there will come a time, when I’d return home, and it wouldn’t be the same place my mother, my grandmother, and my grandfather returned to.

I began to play with the idea of condensing time and space. How great it would be, if home was simultaneously California and China. Time differences, traveling time, the Pacific Ocean would be utterly abolished, and our hearts would return home together.

But time flew by and the pile of sand grains at the bottom of the hourglass grew without my noticing. I hadn’t yet the chance to tell my grandparents about my meditation on time and space, and suddenly, my grandfather decided to return home. Time had seemed to warp, fastforwarding the years I’d taken for granted, and now refusing to slow down.

Here’s the thing—I do not wish to be selfish. I want my family to be happy—to return home—but I am terrified that my own fragile notion of home will shatter in return.

Because the reality is, home isn’t physical space. Home is, in all truthfulness, time. Time I’d spent with my family, and the years I have left to spend with them.

I’d let time slip through my fingers as I tried to come up with this theory of “home.” I’d tried to condense “home” into a condominium, apartment D, a large peach tree shading the backyard. Yet now, the tree has been cut down, and my mother speaks of moving to a city forty minutes away. What then, I ask myself, is home?

Home is the promises I’d made to my grandparents—promises I’m no longer sure I can keep because I cannot cover large enough distances with so little time. Home is the way I could never tell them “I love you,” and the regret that builds in my heart as I realize that home is a ticking time bomb that threatens to throw the world into chaos. Entropy increases. Things fall apart.

In a little bit, home will be too many miles away, too many hours away, for me to return to. Home will be in a foreign city surrounded by a peculiar amalgamation of unfamiliar modernity and history she’d lived through. Home will be on the opposite shore of an ocean I cannot swim across, with no one to cook spring onion noodles for.

I am a girl obsessed with time. I’d been blessed with a lot of time, and yet, I’d tossed it all out of the window of my second story bedroom. I am a girl obsessed with time, and I’d trade in my soul for it to reverse, so I can make home a little more concrete, a little more happy, a little more lasting. I am a girl obsessed with time, and when I wake up 2:30 in the morning, I think I can see the sands rushing down the chute of the hourglass, and the sight of it tears me apart.

I am a girl obsessed with time, and I would like to apologize to my beloved mother, grandmother, and grandfather for taking so much of it for granted. If I had another run at these eighteen years, I only hope to reach this conclusion sooner and fulfill my promises.

Dear grandma and grandpa,

I am a girl obsessed with time. Every day, I pray to God to give you a little more. How had the time flown by so quickly? Was yesterday not the day you brought me on the airplane for the first time? I can still taste the juice of the grapes a stranger had given us—snacks for the little girl—in the back of my tongue. Yet now I’m no longer the toddler you held in your arms. Grandma and grandpa, time is rushing by on a train I cannot seem to catch. Will you forgive me for reaching our home a little too late?

Love.

(i included my favorite part in a creative narrative project i did for a class in college. if you want to hear it in my voice: here.) (pls don’t click for the sake of my voice bc i sound like a literal duck. click for my grandparents wandering around hangzhou.) (also, if it is different its cus i tried to fit it in somehow with a longer poem i was writing.) (i don’t like poems.)

The reason I wrote this isn't that I wanted to pick at a scab. I heard a song recently, from the same songwriter variety show, that I had blindsided a few months back. I heard it at around 1 am in the morning, and I cried.

Here is the collection of songs:

橘子 by 邓见超

考试考得好不好啊？ how did you do on your test? 有没有拿到大红花 did you get the big red flower? 老师夸我是个乖仔啊 my teacher said i was a good kid 奶奶自己保重圣体吧 grandma, take care of yourself 长大了出息了要晓得回家 when you grow older and do big things, remember to come home 别忘了这里的青山和路弯 don't forget the green mountains and windy roads here 记得要带一瓶辣椒在身上 remember to bring with you a bottle of peppers 还时常跟妈妈报平安 and often let your mom know you're doing fine ... 房子旁两棵树都被砍掉了 the two trees by our house have been cut off 墙上还贴着小时候的奖状 my childhood awards are still plastered on the walls 一个字一个字好像昨天啊 each word, each word, like it was just yesterday 宝贝儿子啊吃饭了 son, it's time for dinner 再不回家妈妈要教训你了 if you don't come home now, mom's going to be mad 这个淘气的孩子跑去那里玩了 this mischievous kid, where did he go? 找他都找不到人了 i'm looking for him, but i can't find him.

一荤一素 by 毛不易

一张小方桌有一荤一素 a small, square table with one vegetable and one meat 一个身影从容地忙忙碌碌 a figure good-naturedly bustling about 一双手让这时光有了温度 a pair of hands allowed this time some warmth 太年轻的人他总是不满足 the one who is too young, he's not satisfied 固执地不愿停下远行的脚步 stubbornly unwillingly to stop the footsteps traveling far away 望着高高的天走了长长的路 looking at the far, far sky; walking a long, long road 忘了回头看她有没有哭 he forgot to turn around to see if she's crying 月儿明风儿轻 >the moon is clear, the wind is light 可是你在敲打我的窗棂 is it you, knocking on my window? 听到这儿你就别担心 now that you've listened till here, please don't worry 其实我过的还可以 actually, i'm doing okay ... 你又可曾来过我的梦里 have you been to my dreams lately? 一定是你来时太小心 you must've been too careful when you came 知道我睡得轻 knowing that i sleep lightly 一定是你来时太小心 you must've been too careful when you came 怕我再想起你 afraid i'll miss you

父亲 by 筷子兄弟

时光时光慢些吧不要再让你变老了 time, time, please slow down. don't let you grow any older 我愿用我一切换你岁月长留<<br>i'm willing to trade everything i have for more years and months for you ... 微不足道的关心收下吧 please accept my inadequate care for you 谢谢你做的一切双手撑起我们的家 thank you for holding up our family with your hands 总是竭尽所有把最好的给我 always doing everything to give me the best ... 我是你的骄傲吗还��为我而担心吗 am i your pride? do you still worry for me? 你牵挂的孩子啊长大啦 the child you think of has grown up now.

时间都去哪了 by 王铮亮 (this is a cover)

时间都去哪儿了 where has all the time gone? 还没好好感受年轻就老了 haven't even truly experienced youth, and i'm already old 生儿养女一辈子 took care of children my entire lfe 满脑子都是孩子哭了笑了 all i can hear is the cries and laughter of children 时间都去哪儿了 where has all the time gone? 还没好好看看你眼睛就花了 haven't even looked at you carefully yet, and my vision is already blurring

if only... by ozi

如果可以把時間退後 if i can rewind time 別讓命運把妳給帶走 i won't let fate take you away 對妳能說著我最近做些什麼 i want to be able to tell you what i've been doing these days 希望別再錯過 i hope i won't miss it again 如果可以讓我跟她說 if only i can just tell her 願意付出我所有為了 i'm willing to trade everything i have 能換一點時間just to see you again for a little time just to see you again 別再擔心著我 so you don't have to worry about me anymore

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akimbohimbo · 6 years

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haven’t done this in awhile

Issa tag meme, folks! I was tagged by the insufferable @laffayete to do a thing :) (don’t worry i know her irl im allowed to say that)

This is gonna be hella long so I apologize in advance :’)

1. What’s the smell of your shampoo?

bold of u to assume i ever wash my hair

OFF TO A GREAT START, YEEHAW Y’ALL

jk but i guess i will NEVER know because my mom doesn’t keep shampoo labels :’)

2. What’s your aesthetic?

things that relate to space (pulsars, quasars, the sun, planets)

nature (sunsets, the sky, forests, oceans)

minimalism (in terms of cinematography and posters)

i went to japan last summer and i would consider literally everything about it my aesthetic, especially with the way they organize things

music-related aesthetics

anything boujee in terms of fashion: trench coats, pea coats, leather jackets, suits, dresses, jumpsuits, literally anything that naomi smalls and manila luzon wear is right up my alley

the small of a woman’s back, collarbones, jawlines

anything intricately designed (music boxes)

flowers (orchids, daisies, sunflowers, tulips, roses)

just to name a few

3. What’s your favourite time of day?

i really like the hour right before a sunset. the clouds usually start to clear and the colours of the sky start to blend with each other. depending on the sunset, everything is temporarily red or blue, and even if it’s a particularly cloudy or rainy day, there’s a gentle light coming from up above that’s just very serene and relaxing.

i also really like being outside at 3am, albeit that seldom happens. the streets are very quiet, and there’s this sense of peace that floods over me. it’s like, for a moment, i don’t feel overwhelmed and everything is just. calm.

4. What do you like most about the beach?

i love the beach. if i’m being honest, i love the memories i have attached to the place more than the place itself. i’ve been to dozens of beaches around the world, which each have their fair share of beautiful physical attributes that one could potentially admire. some beaches have cliffs that tower over its surroundings, while others have turbulent waters that are filled with flora and fauna; some have soft, white sand and others have mouldable sand that can be used to play with.

5. What do you worry about constantly?

not doing enough in terms of academics, or friendships, or even just in terms of self-care. i also worry about my constant need to overthink and my hunger for spice in my life?? these days it hasn’t been hectic and it’s what i say i always want, but i hate being bored. i have an addiction to thrill, and that’s not healthy either. there is so much i want to do, but i keep delaying everything because i am afraid anything i do won’t be worthwhile. this is why my friends tell me i need to relax lmao :-)

6. What is a song you’ve cried to before?

i literally have playlists reserved for specific moods. i’m too lazy to write out a full playlist bc i put a lot of thought into them but these are the songs that immediately popped into my head that correlate to my current mood:

if i’m being honest by dodie

once you by jacob collier

quelqu’un m’a dit by carla bruni

i’ll cover you (reprise) from rent the musical

maybe from next to normal the musical

ocean wide, canyon deep by jacob collier

burned out by dodie

visions of gideon by sufjan stevens

chicago by sufjan stevens

let’s get lost by elliott smith

you & i by queen

somebody that i used to know by elliott smith

the predatory wasp of the palisades are out to get us! by sufjan stevens

dancing with a ghost by st. vincent

neu roses (transgressor’s song) by daniel caesar

just a few lmao i cry to a lot of songs

7. What are some relaxing tips for your followers?

take long walks and listen to some music. allow yourself to catch your breath when things are getting overwhelming and it feels like you can’t get a handle on anything. drink tea, maybe watch a sunset if you have the time. write, write, write your emotions out. watch some funny movies/comedy bits.

8. What are some things that make you tear up?

whenever my friends show me that they really do care for me and appreciate my existence??? the other day my friend got drunk and sent me a heartfelt text that said that they were grateful for me being there for them despite the fact that i have an overwhelming amount of shit to deal with on my own. it was at like 2am and i literally cried. i like being appreciated. also dogs. and when my friends send me memes that remind them of me. i also really love good music (more specifically, albums that feel complete). wholesome shit. and showing my friends that i appreciate their existence, too.

9. What is your favourite thing from each of the five senses?

sound: hearing my friends genuinely laugh. the sound of rain and its pitter patter onto a windowsill. orchestral music. guitar riffs. good cello playing. percussion (love me some good beats). jacob collier’s thought process as he says them out loud. IN-TUNE PIANOS. stradivarius violins. daniel caesar’s soft voice. duets. grainy recordings of jazz.

smell: oatmeal, chocolate chip cookies, fresh barbecue, food in general. the scent on some of my friends (some of them smell like laundry detergent and i love that). onions sizzling on a hot pot.

sight: seeing people smile. more specifically, jacob collier’s smile. dogs. visually aesthetic cinematography. cameras.

touch: silk. cashmere. the playful, soft touch of fingers or lips running along my thighs and/or neck. a thumb gently rubbing onto my hand assuring me everything is going to be okay. the feeling of my fingers as they hop and skid along a piano. a soft kiss on my forehead.

taste: i will literally eat anything don’t try me.

10. What is one alternative reality you’d want to be in?

one where my mind is calm and not constantly confused and unsure of literally everything. one where i know exactly what i want. one where there is no political distress and everyone gets along and people are all decent human beings with a moral backbone stronger than a chocolate eclair. one where i can do things to my fullest potential without having to worry that i didn’t try or do anything hard or well enough.

11. What are some troubles you face on a day to day basis?

waking up and contemplating whether things are worth it. not to be edgy but i know i could be doing so much more than i am currently doing with my life. also procrastination.

12. What is one scene of a book that made you really sad?

honestly? i block off everything sad whenever i read a book, whoops! i guess the one that comes to mind right now is in the third book of the pjo series, when zoe nightshade dies. the whole thing where she was like, “stars, i can see the stars again m’lady.” that was the first time i ever cried while reading a book, and i don’t really cry much when indulging in media.

13. Say something to your followers

i like too many things and im sorry that my blog is messy but also i hope u all still enjoy my content WOO i have too many hyperfixations :’)

im supposed to tag people, so uhh here’s a few of my mutuals. you don’t have to do this btw.

@grandtheftpoptart @matteolcerilli @dear-goodbye @stalkhome-sindrone @mercutiowned @somewherebetweensenseandnonsense @mlmneilperry

#quiet kgem

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kokomiiya · 6 years

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catching up on old tag memes

I’m so sorry these are late. I get tagged in a lot of stuff and lose track almost instantly lmao but thank you for tagging me in these anyways.

Shuffle Tag // 10 Songs Tag

I was tagged by @staryama and @i-am-the-cactus.

Put music playlist on shuffle and list the first ten songs or list 10 songs you are obsessed with.

1) The Wolf // Phildel

And you once said, "I wish you dead, you sinner", I'll never be more than a wolf at your door for dinner.

2) Youth // Shawn Mendes and Khalid

Pain, but I won't let it turn into hate, No, I won't let it change me.

3) Soulmates // The Desert

I said "do you ever get lonely?" He said "do you?" I said "it's growing on me, I'm pretty used to it by now."

4) Down So Low // Royal Deluxe

All your dreams of fame and fortune, Are all just nightmares haunting you.

5) Demons // Isador

Hand me my life on a platter and send, Give me whats right throw me a reason.

6) No Turning Back // Koda

Check the bottom line. Drain the bathtub. Put your friends in it. Burn the evidence.

7) High Hopes // Kodaline

But I've got high hopes, It takes me back to when we started.

8) Epilogue // Keaton Henson

Here's to the words that I've sold. Here's to the cold deep in my bones.

9) The Hearse // Matt Maeson

I am the house that's built upon sand.

I am the thought that you couldn’t plan.

What was it like to feel in love?

10) Je m’en vais // Vianney

To hell with you and your apostles. // Au diable toi et tes apôtres.

Anyone who wants to do this, go ahead! I’m too shy to tag anyone individually lmao

#tag memes #i combined the two bc they were similar #bless u both!!

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lady-proudmoore · 7 years

Note

You knew this was coming Shippy Question: Jaina/Varian Choose your favorite

Meme: Shippy Questions (accepting)

What Happened to Jaina on the Broken Shore & Why She Wasn’t Able to Save Varian

29-one headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart.

// You had asked me once before what my theory was on why Jaina disappeared at the Broken Shore. I wanted to write it as a story but I have unfortunately not yet been able to do so, nor am I sure I ever will at this point. Below is the synopsis of my story - sorry for the rough edit -let me know if something doesn’t make sense//

Jaina arrives at the Tomb of Sargeras with Varian, Genn, the High Tinker and so many Alliance champions. They fight as best they can and are holding their own against the waves of demons Gul’dan is sending their way. They could make it to Gul’dan and end this here, she thinks. There is a pause in the battle, and as Gul’dan taunts them, vast amounts of demons suddenly materialize before them. It is overwhelming. In the back of her mind she knows it. They should retreat - save as many lives as they can at this point.

“……damn.”

She looks to Varian - he’s rallying all to fight. Of course she will stay. For Azeroth. For the Alliance. For Varian.

She’s fighting, helping tactically in the best way she knows how. She uses her frost magic to freeze and slow the largest & most dangerous demons, decreasing their threat and allowing champions more time to take them out. Sylvana’s rangers are still handling the demons in the sky. She continues to focus on ground threats.

A horn bellows in the air. She’s still casting, but pauses at the sound and looks up just in time to see Sylvanas’ archers leave their posts.

“She wouldn’t……

“No, of course she would!” Jaina seethes.

Her anger overcomes her focus. She wasn’t paying attention. A fel meteor blast hits too close and it flings her further back along the shoreline like a rag doll. She loses consciousness. Everyone is busy trying not to die. Nobody catches this or if they do, unfortunately they aren’t able to get to her because everyone is fighting *something*.

In an odd sort of plot line convenience luck for her, in her current position on the shore, some of the demons have fallen and died in front of her unconscious body, obscuring her.

She regains consciousness - and the pain hits immediately. She’d known this before. She felt the sand under her hands, the ache through her entire body, blood pounding in her ears, sharp, intense throbbing in her head. Her vision was blurry and she could barely move. Her flight instinct held at bay only by the shortcomings of her physical body. Theramore. It was Theramore again.

No, wait, this was different. Her awareness starts to push through to the forefront of her mind, brushing aside the fear and raw emotion. She tries to process. She looks to the side sees the shoreline, then looks to her other side and notices the bodies of demons. In the sky, she sees their airship - it looks damaged. Where is the green smoke coming from? Cautious and slow, her head still throbbing, she lifts herself up enough to see a clearly damaged, gigantic fel golem laying on the shore, directly under the airship. She grows more confused and anxious.

“What happened?”

Her mind races, trying to put the story behind the scene together. She frantically looks around for her staff. She finds it close by and thinks she’s able to get to it. The ringing in her ears is fading, and she catches voices in the distance - yelling, and the harsh voice of what she thinks is Gul’dan. She painfully and cautiously lifts herself up enough to glance over the body of the large demon obscuring her view.

Varian. No. Surely it’s not. He’s on the ship. Of course he’s on the ship.

No.

Just as Jaina’s mind processes this scenario enough for her to start to move in desperation, in some vain attempt to try and help - the King’s body contorts, cracks, and shatters.

Pain.

There was no sound. It was easy not to scream. There was nothing left within her to make such a sound as to express such sorrow. Only silence. It was deafening.

Hollow.

She collapses behind the demon’s body again and watches the airship grow smaller in the distance. She cares not if the Legion finds her. She wills it.

“Let them come.”

She waits. Nothing.

No. She smiles. Why would something come to release her from this pain that she feels. She deserves it. She’d failed to maintain her focus, no better than an apprentice and was caught off guard. And now in her torment she must live with the fact that her failures had once again helped death take from their world yet another in her life whom she loved very much. And she would have to face both herself and his son with that knowledge. Anduin.

Agony. Her chest lifts and she opens her mouth to scream -

Silence.

She lays there coming to terms with the fact that cosmic forces above her understanding had yet again deemed her life somehow more valuable than one loved by so many more. She wonders why.

Finally, she moves. Her body aching, she crawls to her staff and still half collapsed on the ground, digs deep within to draw forth what mana left within her and teleports herself to her study in Dalaran. Upon catching the familiar smell of books and magic in the air, she collapses and sobs.

And when her body has no more tears to shed, her sorrow turns to hate, for if Sylvanas had kept her people there, covering their flank - Jaina would not have lost focus and she would have been better able to help Varian and their people. She had failed, and the Horde had helped her.

And in her sorrow, she raged at both.

#jaina proudmoore #jaina x varian #💕 Never Temper Your Passion 💕 (Fluffy February)#varian wrynn #jthorsten #// queued //

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naomi-lafleur · 7 years

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A Series of Unfortunate Dates

A/N: School has been a pain in the butt lately. That’s my excuse for this fic. @viola-smithin We shall write that wonderful story one day ;) Mention of @aileen-hollingsworth @niara-aldaine @haidenschreave Sorry I changed the order of some messages bc I had the whole thing written and it’d take a lot of time to change all of it.

Yeh sorry about Friday. We’ve been holding that in for weeks and we broke (just like how Naomi did)

I woke to the sound of water droplets gently tapping the window. I was taken aback when I encountered a tray full of needles beside my bed. Suddenly, a sharp pain struck my shoulder. Memories of guns and ukuleles started flooding back into my mind. My heart started beating faster and faster as I pieced all the information together. How long was I out for?

I heard a soft humming coming towards me. The door slightly cracked open for a moment and a nurse walked in. I stared at her as she swiftly strolled right past me. After a five second delay, she turned around in awe. “Lady Naomi! You’re finally awake! Everyone has been worried sick about you.” Before I had a chance to respond, she ran out the door, calling for a doctor. Turns out that I had been in a coma for a week after Felix brought me to the hospital wing.

I was bedridden for another few days after I woke up. My arm was feeling much better than it had previously. Another round of elimination had gone by so fast. I received the news that Niara, Adriana, and Delphi had been let go from Aileen, who was visiting. We screamed (of joy) at each other for what felt like hours after revealing her dirty secret. Smh why didn’t she tell me earlier?

That little carrot stick. At least one of us would be royal.

I got up early in the morning and hobbled to Niara’s room to say our farewells. It was quite an emotional morning. Eager for some fresh air, I headed to the roof with my sketchbook.

Finally some peace and quiet. I leaned against the ledge and started drawing the flock of birds in the sky

How am I still here? Hadn’t I already been rejected? … Don’t worry, Naomi. You still have a chance in this!

So, date ideas…. I could bring him up to the roof and watch the sunset. Bleh, too cheesy.

I had really been longing to leave the palace. Maybe go into town? Imagine all the people swarming around you guys for the whole day. Okay, scratch that idea.

I glanced up for a second and noticed a chickadee that landed right in front of me. It reminded me of home, which was just what I needed to cheer me up. After a while of thinking, I checked my watch.

Already 1PM? Maybe I could catch Haiden right now and have our date.

Luckily, I found him in the hallways just as I was heading to the kitchen. “Hey Haiden! Are you free at the moment?”

“Namoi Laflour. Of course I am. What’s up?“

“Well, I’m taking you to the beach today, so change into some comfy clothes and meet me by the door in 15 minutes,” I said confidently.

“Um, okay.” He got changed and met me downstairs a while later.

“It’s so weird not seeing you in a suit and tie.”

He shrugged. “Weird good or weird bad?”

“Definitely weird good.”

“Well, I’m flattered”

“I like the casual look. You should do it more often,” I said grinning. “Okay, we should head out now.”

“Okay, uh, so what gave you this idea?”

Ah, I see we’re back at the awkward phase.

“Well awhile ago, me and some of the selected were planning on running off to the beach, but we never got around to it and now all of them are gone. So I thought, who do I know that owes me a date and would enjoy a relaxing vacation?”

“I don’t know about enjoy, but I’ll do it.” He said with a laugh, as if he wasn’t being negative and ruining my spirit.

I sighed deeply, frustrated already, within the first few minutes of the date. “Do you have to do that? I just wanted to do something fun before you send me home because you obviously can’t stand me.”

“What, I… What?”

Come on.

“You just give off the feeling, Haiden.”

“That I can’t stand you? How’d I give off that feeling? Was keeping you here not a tell-tale sign that I like you?”

Well, you rejected me a while ago… I think that says a lot. Aren’t I still here because it couldn’t be the final two?

I glanced at the distance, doing anything I could to avoid his gaze “You just seem very… distant. I don’t know.”

“You should be more confident in yourself. No one could possibly hate you.” He said, like it sounded easy.

Be more confident, Naomi. Always be happy, Naomi. Do this, be that… What if I can’t? What if I’m already broken on the inside? What if I go insane one day? What if… I can’t take it one day and I do something I’ll regret?

Softly I replied. “Maybe not other people, but definitely myself.”

“Naomi…” he begins.

I gave a deep sigh, wiped the tear that was forming in my eye, and did what I was always raised to do. Apologize. “Sorry for ruining the mood… This may be our last date, so let’s just have a fun day at the beach, alright?”

In return, I got an awkward, wary look. “Works for me. Let’s go.”

See, Naomi? Haiden doesn’t care. He just wants The Selection to end and run off with Sophie. Leave you in the dirt, where you belong.

“Okay, off to the beach we go then.”

More awkward silence. Why did you ruin this? Can I just wallow in a hole? Is it too early to head off to my ranch with my army of Japanse Russian ninja cow children?

“So, uh… you come here often?”

“Well.. seeing as before this I’ve never been to Angeles, I’ve got to go with no, I don’t come here often.” I grinned.

“Yeah, that sounded like a cheesy pickup line. You’d think I’d be better at this by now”

“Yeah, I would think you’d at least have some grate pick up lines by now… Grate… Get it? Like a cheese grater? Haha I’m pretty bad at jokes, not going to lie.”

“You’re bad at jokes, I’m bad at pick-up lines. Guess we’re even”

“It’s the perfect match”

“Definitely”

We ended up heading off to the beach, making small conversation the entire way, like we had just met. Everything was painfully awkward.

“C'mon, let’s build a sandcastle,” I said, trying to distract myself from the hypnotic ocean. He agreed even though didn’t seem all that thrilled.

“God, it’s been forever since I was here”

“When’s the last time you came?”

“When I was little. I was never one for Sandy fun and salt water.”

“I don’t get to go to the beach often, living in Waverly.”

He shrugged. “It’s overrated. I mean, who even enjoys sand? It’s course and rough and it gets everywhere.”

“You don’t seem to like anything. Not sand, not me, not even the water.”

“I never said I didn’t like you. I do like you.”

Nice joke.

“Do you like me enough?”

“Enough for what?”

“Just… Am I good enough for you?”

Haiden looked directly at my eyes and shook his head. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re not something that I can look at and give a grade or rating to. And whether or not I choose you isn’t a measure of your self-worth, Naomi. Remember, boys are trashbags.”

“You should be a counselor,” I said as I hugged him.

“A trashbag counselor”

“So, um… How is your family holding up?” I asked. Despite the depressing mood I still wanted to be a good friend and be there, after all his mother had just been brutally assassinated by his psycho ex girlfriend, and a girl once known as my friend.

“Well, we’re doing as well as can be, I guess.” He said, looking off, being distant again.

Such an interesting conversation.

After that we were quiet, sitting, soaking in the sad atmosphere we had created. It felt like I was drowning in sappy backstory.

The beach was surprisingly empty on such a nice day. I had to wonder if some calls were made to ensure safety or whatever, clear off the beach, just had it be us.

That would be so romantic if it weren’t because his mom had died.

I went out to where the waves were crashing against the beach, took my shoes off, hiked up my skirt a bit, and felt the cool water touch my feet. It felt so nice that I just wanted to be engulfed by the cold water, and be swept away with the current, but I knew if I did that, I wouldn’t be able to have my ranch, and I wasn’t about to give up all my life dreams to become an ocean goddess. I could stick to being a meme queen for now.

As I was standing in the water, feeling the waves crash over my ankles which were showing (so scandalous), Haiden joined me, and we had a sort of therapeutic experience of just letting our legs be soaked. It was oddly calming, I now understood why people found the ocean a nice place to clear your mind because as I stood there with my feet in the water, overlooking the horizon, I felt everything that seemed so confusing and difficult to understand fade away.

I must’ve stood there for at least half an hour before Haiden led me away, telling me my feet would fall off from the cold, I realized the ocean didn’t have the same effect on Haiden as it did me.

He thinks I’m crazy. Who am I kidding at this point? I am crazy. Everyone knows it, Naomi, you’re the weird girl again, just like back home. The weirdo obsessed with cows, or fire, or almonds. They’ll all leave you… One by one. Just like always. He doesn’t want to spend time with you. Why would he? You’re nothing but a freak and a crazy girl. You’re worthless. A piece of trash, waiting to be thrown out.

I tried to build up another sandcastle, and the outcome ended up looking like how I felt. A pile of lumpy sand thrown together, trying to look put together. Needless to say, it wasn’t cute.

I got so frustrated with my lack of ability to make a sandcastle that I smooshed it and insisted we just leave. Rage was filling my soul and I needed to be alone so I could get rid of it effectively, rather than squishing sand castles and punching something.

Haiden was able to call back the car and we left immediately. The beach date had been an utter disaster. My feet, still wet and sandy, pulled into the car and we drove off. I didn’t even bother trying to grab my shoes, they would be a nice present for whoever came to that beach next.

I was so angry that I just wanted to cry or react in some way to get that pushing feeling out of my chest.

Mila or Sophie would make a much better queen. Haiden actually likes them. You’re here out of pity. If Cressida hadn’t assassinated his mother, she would be here instead of you.

My head couldn’t seem to shut up, spouting insults at me like there was no tomorrow. There was a battle going on inside my one being. If Haiden had noticed this happening, he didn’t make any indication he knew.

The car pulled up to the palace and I felt a rush of relief knowing I would be able to burn something soon. Before I was able to get out of the car and start sprinting to my room, Haiden grabbed my hand.

“Are you okay? You don’t seem like yourself today.”

I laughed bitterly. “People can’t be happy all the time Haiden, you should know that better than anyone.” And with that I flung open the door, not bothering to wait for the chauffeur and made a b line for the front door.

How do I get to my room? How long have I been here, yet I still didn’t know how to make it to my own room. God Naomi, you’re pathetic. This is not the time to be clueless! You’re trying to make a dramatic exit and storm out of here.

I turned left once and then right twice and then I realized I was lost and couldn’t take it anymore. I stopped where I was, in the middle of an empty hallway and sunk to the floor, crying. I couldn’t take it anymore. All the anger, all the depressing thoughts, and sadness I bottled up since coming to the palace… since papa died, spilled out of me all at once.

You aren’t good enough. You’re never good enough, you’ll never be. Why. WHY CAN’T YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT? It’s your fault papa died and it’s your fault Queen Alize died. It’s all your fault! Why can’t you be normal? Why… must you exist?

Amidst my sobbing I hadn’t noticed footsteps coming closer to me.

“Naomi?” I heard the familiar voice say.

Oh God, this is exactly what I was trying to avoid. Could I lie my way out? I just got a letter saying my cat died. He probably won’t even know it’s a lie. I don’t even have a cat. Why would he bother knowing that about me?

“No, my name is Namoi. Naomi is busy at the moment. Y-You could leave a message.” I said, not trying to stop the tears from falling but rather trying to hide them.

“Is that so?” He said, amused with my antics.

“Yeah, actually I should probably go find her now. Nice seeing you again.” I said, trying to push past him before he stopped me in my tracks.

“Wait, just… just wait.” He said as if I had a choice of leaving while he was holding my arm.

“What?” I said begrudgingly. Why didn’t he understand I just wanted to be left alone. If he was allowed to deal with his issues alone, then so was I.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I said, tears still flowing down my face.

Aurora is going to be so angry that you ruined her nice makeup. Why do you ruin everything in your vicinity?

“Naomi.” He said sternly.

I broke. I was tired of trying to be the goody two shoes. I was tired of everyone stepping all over me like I was worthless. I was tired… of letting everyone think I was fine with everything. That I don’t get upset. That I don’t care. News flash, I do. After all, I am human. (No, yer a witch, Naomi HA Shut up Vivian)

“It’s… It’s just been a bad day.” I said in between sobs. “My cat just died.” I said as an afterthought.

“When did you get a cat?” Haiden asked, which I responded to by sobbing harder.

“I-I got him… before I came to the palace.” Haiden didn’t question my any further, instead pulled me in for a hug, letting all my tears drain out of my face.

After I finished crying, I wiped my eyes once again, pulled away from Haiden.

“I need to tell you something.” I said after a bit of standing and cleaning my face up. Surely I had mascara all down my cheeks.

“What?”

“I don’t have a cat.”

“I know.”

I nodded, laughing, despite the mood.

“Hey Naomi, what you said about not being happy all the time. What did you mean?”

“Sometimes I just feel like I always have to be the happy person people think I am. It’s stupid but-” I was interrupted.

“It’s not stupid.”

“Thanks.”

“And it’s fine to have bad days, but please don’t just go about them without telling someone, okay?” I nodded, wondering if he was speaking from experience, but not wanting to pry.

“I won’t, thanks Haiden.” I look up and stare at him, wondering whether or not I should tell him about the incident that has been bothering me. “Haiden… I-I need to tell you something. I’ve been bottling up everything bad that has happened to me since… god knows how long… a-and,” I feel the tear forming in eye. ”I just broke.”

I paused for a second, contemplating whether or not I should continue.

“You should know that… that day of the first attack,” I paused again. “I-I saw Cressida. I thought I was hallucinating b-but I wasn’t. I could’ve saved Queen Alizé… I could’ve prevented this whole damn situation… but I didn’t, and I can never, ever, ever, forgive myself for that. Kick me out now if you want to… this has just been eating me up and I’m sorry for everything.”

The tear rolls down my cheek as my mind throws every insult it could think of at me. He stares at me silently for a moment before he wraps his arms around me.

“There are a lot of things we regret in life. There are a lot of things we wish we could change. Don’t… don’t worry about it.”

This makes me sob even harder for some reason. It was an unpleasant sight to see. Realizing that I was bawling into his arms, I calmed myself down and apologized a million more times.

“I-It’s alright. Just… Don’t beat yourself up over this, Naomi.”

“I’ll try not to…” There was a long moment of silence. “Now, I think I should go and find Naomi, don’t you think?” I said, trying to lift up this depressing mood and referencing the lame excuse I tried to use earlier.

“Go ahead, Namoi.” I laughed and started walking before again realizing I was lost. How could I have forgotten?

“Hey Haiden.”

“Yeah.”

“…I don’t exactly know how to get to my room from here.”

He laughed and led the way.

Today was a bad day…. but I’ll be okay.

CRACK FIC TIMEEEEEEEE by: @niara-aldaine @viola-smithin and moi

I sincerely apologize for this

You ruined it Naomi, again. Why do you always have to do this? Why do you mess up everything you touch? Remember that expensive ass lamp that grandma gave us? WELL, YOU BROKE THAT SHIT TOO BLOODY HELL M8

(I’m tempted to say trash but i cant) GARBAE LIKE GARBAGE BAE

IM A GENIUS

YOU NEVER CEASE TO AMAZE ME

GARBAE

BAE WHO IS GARBAGE

CALL URBAN DICTIONARY

START A NEW TREND

I FORGOT ABOUT HAIDEN CUZ LORD KNOWS THAT BITCH IS CONFUSING. I SAY HE’S DISTANT HE SAYS WHAT??? THEN IGNORED ME FOR 4 MILLION YEARS AND THEN EATS MY FUCKING EAR. WHAT THE HELL?

I hadn’t realized but at some point in my contemplation of becoming a salty Barbie ocean goddess who can fucking salsa like SHAKIRA SHAKIRA with a 70’s headband, Haiden the fat-hoed 6-toed shark ass pork nibbler, snuck up behind me and SWALLOWED MY FUCKING EAR. WHAT THE HELL DUDE. WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT TO A PERSON, MUCH LESS A PERSON THAT CAN FUCKING SALSA LIKE SHAKIRA SHAKIRA WITH A 70’S HEADBAND, THAT IS NOT OK, BROCHACHO. I MEAN, I CAN FUCKING SALSA DUDE. I decided that Haiden needed a bag of fucking Doritos to calm his titties down and a good hair shave. His hormones were WAY out of control. Why didn’t I win then? Maybe he liked someone mild and bland, just like himself. But then again, it wasn’t MY fucking fault that Haiden, the guacamole egghead whisk couldn’t handle such SPICYNESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. I mean, I am pretty caliente.

After I managed to get my slobbered on ear back because Niara was very generous and blasted his stomach open with nuclear rice bombs made in Japananananan, I got to a professional donkey egghead whisk hospital and the very caliente police arrested Haiden for being a hormonic teenager nutzo who only guacamoled. He couldn’t calm his saggy raging titties so then Niara also blasted those off for him. Then I became the default queen because me la died from some mysterious reasons (cough Russians) and sophie went to the mountains. All was well. I invited a cow named Hachangchangchang to the redecorated Pepe meme palace to rule alongside me on SHAKIRA SHAKIRA thrones, at which point we had 50 japanse RUSSIAN kids all starting with the letter B. My favorite twins were BABANGBANG and BABANGBANGBANG. Viola and her girlfriend Sofika changed their names to Kakangkang and SHAKIRA SHAKIRA because they loved me that much. The oldest of them, KeekeeKomKikKokKeKikKokKakKue (Try saying that 5 times) took over and ruled with a fair hand full of chicken nuggets (all organic, courtesy of Mika Vladmska, the rice farmer) and her husband, Steve. (No one better fucking eat him this time, MULA) It was a peaceful rule (when Niara wasn’t bombing all the countries with her faithful pet polar bear, Dorito Nachos, and that dude, Feliz Navidad). All was good, all was right.

We pulled a Abby Schreave

“Thanks, now I’m gonna GO NIBBLE ON AN EAR LATER LOSER” THEN I STOLE HIS EAR AND RAN OFF MUAHHAAHHAHAHA FABULOUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

ALL DONE ENDO WHOPPPIE THIS IS SOME GOOD QUALITY CRAP.

Dr Phil voice: “You’ve got a problem”

#selectionoc #i apologize for this #naomi #vivian #crack fic

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