#i just really hate my brain stressing out over things that aren't real. like all the school/college dreams

[ravenwolfie97]

hey brain can you stop stressing out about things that aren't even really happening thank you

[daftpatience]

Hi, I used to draw a lot but I've not drawn/created for a long time now, any tips to get back into it?

Or rather the whole thing about making art for yourself, I used to get a lot of attention for being good at art from other ppl and I'm not sure how to connect it back to myself again

I'm also contending with the Autism "It needs to be done in this way" and the ADHD "I can't focus for shit"

Also please don't worry if you don't know what to say, I'm just trying to get a variety of opinions to try and untangle my brain

Thank you in advance 💕

i think a good way to get back into creating *for yourself* whether its to come out of a dry spell or just to get back to creating things that you like, is what i call 'backtracking' (bearing in mind that my particular methods may only work for me! im lucky ive never struggled with focus when it comes to drawing things, but maybe some of these things will help as my main goal when drawing is to entertain myself!)

also before i move on this i think is valuable: you gotta draw things that you aren't gonna post sometimes. it's fun and fulfilling to make art for an audience, and wanting attention is not shameful (ITS HUMAN!) but also we live in panopticon times and i think its good to train your "i am alone doing something for myself and no one has to see it" muscles.

backtracking is a couple different things:

look back to when you were really young. what kinds of drawings were the most fun to do? what did you spend time on or get really into? for me, this was a few things! tracing cartoons, drawing up elaborate scenes of lots of little creatures doing a thing, and designing little characters as paper dolls and making their houses and little furniture and accessories and such to cut out and play with. also getting paint all over my hands (i still paint my whole hand whenever im done doing something with acrylics before i wash up! its stimming)! backtracking here is when you try to take those things and make use of them now. try to find that old joy and use it in a way that makes you happy today, even if it's something small or silly or embarrassing. it can really help you rediscover what parts of art make YOU happy!

if you're regularly drawing and in a slump, backtracking for me is stepping back and doing either more exercises and practising the things you feel like you already know how to draw (ie. studying angles of the face or pulling up imgs of rooms on pinterest to see how normal people arrange furniture etc.), or simplifying your drawings to a level that feels more relaxing and less stressful. (ie. chibis instead of more detailed characters etc.) i find i kind of fall back to chibis when i feel lost, and then sort of rebuild from there. its fun to let my style change as i grow!

ALSO! im telling your autism this for your adhd's sake (this is useful for anyone i think): if there is a part of art that you do not enjoy doing or find boring but you feel it is an important or necessary step in the process? the secret is it isnt! art is made up. if you hate lining, dont do it! if youre a digital artist and get caught up picking a brush every time because you feel like you need the perfect one? switch to mspaint for a bit to get the nerves out. it can be really freeing!

art is for having fun and fulfilling our need to create. the rules are all made up and not real. perfectionism is the little death that something something i forget. yeah

[nerves-nebula]

i scrolled through your Entire TM(N)T Tag and i simply adore it!!! as a kid i was a less intense version of leo (golden child) but i soon grew out of it and now i’m a lot more like mikey (craving violence) and it’s so interesting to see the two parts of myself coexist in separate people. if you wanna, could you expand on mikey and leo’s relationship and dynamics, both before and during the farmhouse arc? they just scratch my brain <3

(also sorry if the purple text is an issue tumblr won’t let me send it normally?? idk it’s [tumblr] lmao)

RIGHT SO!! buckle up cuz this gonna be a long one :P (part of the reason it took so long to answer sobbb. its too complicated so i kept putting it off)

before farm house:

Mikey found leo very frustrating, Leo got on his nerves with all his boasting and special treatment from Splinter. He also hated how Leo tended to boss them around after getting his Leader role. So Mikey tried to get on Leo's nerves as well (even if Leo wasn't doing anything to intentionally antagonize Mikey at that moment)

this means there's a lot of bad blood between the two, and they might be more antagonistic than is really warranted towards each other. this often ends up with Raph dealing with the brunt of Leo's frustration, cuz despite his anger, Leo wouldn't be able to justify attacking Mikey most of the time.

this is because Leo believes Splinter when Splinter rants to him about how disappointing his weaker siblings are. Leo doesn't think it would be fair of him to beat up on Mikey, even if he believes Mikey is lazy and rude and has no sense of self discipline. But Splinter always talks about how strong Raph is, so Raph is the one Leo feels ok with fighting. Leo fighting with Raph doesn't make Mikey like him any more, lol.

another aspect of their relationship is their competitiveness. Leo and Mikey are the most outgoing and competitive. A lot of raphs theoretical competitiveness has kind of been stripped from him in this iteration due to the sheer amount of stress and responsibility he's been given. it's kind of hard for him to have fun pretending a video game is super important when the slight stress of that makes him feel like he's in a life or death situation. Raph can have fun playing a game, but he'll drop it like a hot coal if it gets too stressful. And Donnie is just generally conflict avoidant, so competitive games aren't great for him.

So Mikey and Leo really only have each other to compete against, the others might tag along in whatever game they've devised but most of the time it's really just Mikey and Leo competing against each other. but since they also have a very REAL rivalry/grudge against each other, these competitions and games can get a bit out of hand or a bit too serious.

a third thing is that Mikey will often lose his temper and call Leo stupid. usually for believing in something Splinter told him. Leo finds this annoying because he sees it as Mikey lashing out because he's not as good as Leo. Cuz Leo's whole worldview is based around the hierarchy Splinter has built.

Meanwhile, Mikey is irritated that Leo can "fall for" Splinters abuse tactics so easily- mind you mikey is a bit more emotionally intelligent than his brothers, so it's not really their fault. but imagine how frustrating it is to see someone you love fall for textbook manipulation over and over. And then act horribly towards you because of something that YOU WARNED THEM AGAINST BELIEVING!!

like that's not really how manipulation works, and they're all kids so its not entirely Leo's fault, but it's hard not to resent someone when you see that the reason it works so well on them is because they benefit from it. it's hard not to feel like they value that privilege more than they value you.

shredder arc (leading into the farm house):

So by this point, Mikey's kind of tried more to be less outwardly cruel to Leo, since he's now gone through Leo's mind and knows Leo is so manipulated that he doesn't even realize Splinter is abusing him. They fight a lot less in the years leading up to/before the farm house, since fighting enemies as a team had kind of forced them to trust and understand each other a lot more.

still, the events leading up to the farm house have kind of brought up old wounds- specifically, the split between Leo and his brothers. Leo spent months trying to convince his brothers that Shredder was evil. Mostly for selfish reasons, and in doing so was incredibly insensitive to Donnie and his other brothers pain at the realization that Shredder was, in fact, up to some suspicious shit. His brothers felt more at home with the foot clan than with Splinter, so they're really hurting, and they hate the idea of going home and having Splinter and Leo rub it in even more.

Donnie in particular feels like he just lost another chance at a better family, like he just brought his brothers into another trap, like no one would ever actually genuinely want to be his family. like he's stuck with splinter. forever. so he's (not for the first time) seriously suicidal. Which Raph and Mikey are concerned about, and Leo doesn't really get the seriousness of at first.

farm arc:

SOOO after Leo begged to be allowed to come to the farm house, things are tense. Leo now understands that his relationships with his bros are worse than he realized, and he needs to be on his best behavior around his brothers. He ends up treating all of them with the same level of deference he would treat splinter, which is really weird.

BUT THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT HIM AND MIKEY, SO TO GET BACK ON TRACK- Mikey kind of regresses back to being more childish, trying to get a rise out of Leo, which doesn't work at first. he does eventually end up provoking Leo into snapping at him, and Mikey gets even more aggressive in response (because none of them are in a good headspace at the moment) basically saying that Leo will always be like this if he doesn't stop faking being a better person.

Leo is frustrated to the point of tears because he's exhausted from walking on eggshells for weeks and he can't figure out why Mikey won't just let him act the way he was told to act !! Eventually, after a few rough confrontations, Mikey manages to explain that they don't want Leo's submission or anything- they just want him to be LESS MEAN ALL THE TIME. which includes un-learning what Splinter has told Leo about his brothers.

and, even more important than that, includes Leo talking about his own feelings. AND EVEN MORE IMPORTANT THAN THAT!! includes Leo accepting that Splinter isn't always right and has, in fact, REALLY HURT his brothers!!

and this is a lot, but it mostly only happens because Mikey is willing to try (in his own messy, imperfect way) to confront Leo. Donnie is too emotionally hurt to do anything but dissociate and run away, and Raph doesn't have the energy to try to facilitate change within the family this way. He can help the discussions progress, and help the turtles communicate with each other, but Raph doesn't have the emotional will to force Leo to take that first big emotional step.

after farm house:

funny enough, their competitive nature facilitates a lot of camaraderie with each other once they stop treating each other as ONLY adversaries. they can safely be aggressive in a joking way with each other, they can compete without any hurt feelings, it's pretty nice. Leo also feels comfortable asking Mikey for his opinion on stuff, cuz he knows Mikey won't sugar coat things too much.

there are a lot of small issues they gotta deal with every now and then though. for example, Mikey's habit of irritating Leo led to a bit of transphobia growing up. Not because Mikey had transphobic ideas of gender (he's agender himself, he never really understood gender and never will) but because he noticed it irritated Leo and he was a kid and didn't understand the rhetoric he was parroting.

so a lot of Leo's internalized transphobia doesn't just come from Splinter, but also from his brother, who he lives with. and that's rough.

and the way that Leo will still catch himself either implying, thinking, or straight up just saying that he thinks Mikey is dumb. even if he 's saying it in an offhanded way like "lol your so stupid" it's still really hurtful to Mikey, who was told his entire childhood that he was dumber and lazier than his siblings, and that's why he didn't matter. it bothers Mikey a lot more than most of them realize and takes Mikey a while to voice his discomfort, because he feels like even being insulted by it is, in and of itself, trivial and dumb.

but outside of those unfortunate issues, they get along really well! Mikey encourages Leo to indulge in silliness more.

SOOO thats the gist of things. i think.

[just-jordie-things]

spiderman fan anon here again who yapped abt how i think ur spideygumi fic is the literal greatest spidey au of all time.. sry i hope ur not tired of hearing abt it but i just reread the fic (again) and i cant stop thinking abt what mc and megumis development would be like from here… megumi is definitely not the typical peter-parker-type with his sense of justice (as one of his figures’ packaging hilariously summarizes “i save people unequally”) which has SOO much potential for a Good fucking hero story AND new relationship dynamic. like maybe megumi tries to become kind of a more “moral” hero on his own, but shit happens, maybe the govt or police are too corrupt and he realizes he can only trust himself to bring justice to the city, a more batman-like mentality. would mc have a problem with his morality and pull away? would she agree with it and help him as a journalist? would she disagree and give him the With great power Comes great responsibility spiel, leading to him growing into a more “true” spiderman-like hero? Idfk i do not write at all but i cant turn off my comics-loving brain with all this potential!!! i also dont mean to push u to write any of this but i had to talk abt it before i Exploded

the way i wanna make this fic a 5 movie franchise now becuz OMG THE AVENUES THIS OPENS UPPP

i am a marvel girl (sorry battinson baby even u aren't my fav) so i see spiderman!gumi having a deadpool mentality but without the mouth lolol

ok here's some very small thoughts i have about what a continuation in the story would've looked like:

he tries to find a mix between the public eyes' idea of the right thing and his version of the right thing but... dammit some people just gotta suffer a bit don't they?

he sees someone get a lil too harsh with a dog and he can't just give em a lil scare. next thing he knows they're beaten beyond recognition and webbed up to a wall for the police to deal with. fuck that guy, who hurts dogs??

when the news starts to call him things like menace and people start to wonder if he's not the altruistic hero they thought he was, megumi tries to balance between the different schools of thought of justice. he has you by his side, supporting him and wishing him all the best with being the best he can be...

so when some perp he's apprehending starts spouting off some real nasty shit, megumi tries to tell himself that prison will bring him to justice. over and over in his head he tells himself that he has to let some things go...

but damnit this bigoted asshole won't shut up and megumi just doesn't see how society could possibly function with pieces of shit like this roaming around. and no, when the guy's body goes limp after a swift ninety-degree head-spinning snap to the neck, megumi doesn't feel any regret. only relief that there's one less bastard in his city.

as for you, you've always trusted in spiderman. so you're learning to place your trust in megumi, too. you hate the rare occasion when he visits you bloodied and bruised, but you hate the idea of a city without spiderman's protection even more. you've been a fan of spiderman since the first day you'd heard of the sightings. a ride or die doesn't walk away just because things are getting a little nastier out there.

a career in journalism will prove to be difficult. the truth about megumi's double life is a secret that you both understand must stay contained no matter the price. you probably bounce around a few firms, trying to find just the right place to land where you can write the truth without revealing too much. however most outlets just want to report on the crimes spiderman himself has committed, and you struggle with badmouthing your hero (and your boyfriend)

i like to think megumi laughs at the papers trying to paint him as a villain. it doesn't stress him out, it's nothing to him really. just a source of entertainment for him to read to you over dinner. between the two of you, you handle the ugly headlines far worse. but megumi likes to rile you up by reading all the worst ones to you, just to make you fuss over it all. some nights it's like you're rivals again- megumi taunting you with the latest edition of the spider-menace storytelling, chuckling when you start to crinkle your brows and spout off about how some writers are uneducated phonies or how they're ungrateful for what he's done. you never fail to go on a long winded rant followed by some chugged down water. and as always, megumi will just smirk and shake his head as he throws away said latest edition.

___

i lost wind here but i would love to hear if anyone has other thoughts too!!

[dearweirdme]

https://x.com/BIGHIT_MUSIC/status/1818112395048595545?t=ZFr9UZMp6rbjV1LKKRzU4g&s=19

(The translation)

🤣🤣🤯That company... is really something. And also there are two things playing with my neurons right now (stream neuron by hobi)

1. Maybe I should watch the entire suchwita interview by myself and not rely on a solo reply, but apparently the company decided to make them shoot something at the last minute. I'm not saying they forced them or anything similar, but I just had this thought : what if in the future, jk and jm don't plan on "feeding" their shippers anymore. And let's say the company kind of knew. About the fanservice so they kind of decided to throw something just like that. Just to fuel. But I can be wrong tho. It can also be something that jk and jm decided to do long ago and the company just brought it back up.

2. I'm a tkkr and honestly if this was in taekook case, I would have yelled out of happiness. But then i would have closed my mouth shut the minute i'll remember they are behind the barracks. 🤣 I saw one jikkr and there are probably plenty others, saying we are mad and that jkk is tgt. 🙈🙈

There are a lot of places I wanna explore. One of them is jkk brain. Seriously. They are really strong believer, because by now, if this was me I would have been convinced two men that I think are each other's husband are nothing more than buddies.

I say it all the time and I will say it again for any jikkr lurking (without hate) : South Korea has a fcked up law where two men who enlist together cannot be more than buddies or family. The moment the opposite is proven, they'll be thrown in prison and whatever career they have kind of end there. Now I don't know about any other kpop group but I do know that in no world BTS will go to a place like that, which we know dang well stress them out and they want it to be over as soon as possible, and make two of them who are supposedly a couple, enlist, while they plan on coming back as a group. This is a risky and stupid move. A big one at that.

And there's no " BUT IF THIS WAS TAEKOO-" because yes jk did want to go in Taehyung division but he didn't. He said he wanted to and he didn't!! That's the real difference right here.

Ps : ( I think that tweet is no big deal. I just wanted to vent a little.)

Hi anon!

We all need to vent a bit at times right 😊?

So... the translation on X says "a page of youth and romance". I did read in the comments that it can be translated as "bromance" though.. which falls in line with what we've seen I think. My Korean is level zero, so I'm always hesitant when it comes to these things.

Your "feeding" actually inspired my former post about Jm and Jk feeding Jkkrs. I think we've all been talking a lot about fanservice, feeding, real connections, company content, etc.. a lot these last couple of months. No wonder with one side of fandom wanting the JmJk travel show to be a romantic private getaway, and the rest of us seeing that this wasn't that. I mean, there's obviously a team with them, plans were made.. there is no way around that.

I think what's most likely, is that Jm thought about what he wanted to do for army. Somehow the idea of doing a travel show with Jk reëntered his thoughts, he got excited, Jk got excited, the company got real excited and made it happen. That's not a bad thing. It does not undermine their friendship if this is what happened. Things can easily be two things at once. So this being for army doesn't mean Jk and Jm aren't also actually close. It being recorded inbetween Jk's promo is perhaps ill timing, but it's also still very possible that Jk really wanted to do it. He loves Jm (platonically.. don't get excited Jkk lurkers), he loves doing stuff for army, he's a hard worker. I think that literally is it.

Now the company involvement is a different thing ofcourse. Because we know they don't shy away from editing stuff a certain way and adding captions that might be suggestive. I think the company definitely plays into shipping and shipping wars.

I mean, as Tkkrs we don't really expect content like this. It's the same way I never expected Jk and Tae to enlist together the way Jm and Jk did. There's just boundaries to what they can do, we know that. Aside from Jkk shenaniganse, I love that Jm and Jk enlisted together. I think they are such a huge source of comfort to each other, and I think knowing they would go together probably soothed some of the unease they were feeling while preparing for this.

[magpiefngrl]

do you think writer's block is an actual concrete thing? / what is writer's block to you?

Hey anon! When I wrote the post seeking asks, I'd added writer's block to the end of the things I'd like to chat about, and then deleted it because it is included in woes. But you read my mind!

This is going to be looooong. I'm putting it under a cut x

I've had debilitating writer's block in the past. Debilitating. I used to write and post fic regularly back in 2017-18--and then I stopped. For a time, I'd write but would hate everything. I'd feel empty of ideas and robbed of the ability to convey thoughts on page. I'd cross half my sentences out and doubt every word.

And then: I couldn't look at the page. I would think about opening a doc and I'd immediately distract myself with something else. The dishes, the cat, a new tab. It was like even the idea of writing touched some wound inside me and I'd flinch, I'd get that visceral reaction of "ouch, avoid avoid".

So, for me at least, writer's block is a real thing. It happens, it affects people, and it is so prevalent that thousand of articles have been written about it.

I've come to realise, though, that writer's block doesn't exist on its own. It doesn't just come at someone randomly like an unwelcome lottery ticket. It's an indication of something else.

(a pause here to say that writer's block isn't the time when a creative brain needs to rest. The fallow periods. That's normal, esp if you've overextended yourself. Pushing yourself to write at that time might make the brain rebel, and you might think you've got writer's block when all you need to do is take some time off and fill the creative well with fun activities.)

So what might the writer's block indicate? Anything from fear of failure, to insecurity, to perfectionism, to depression. When I'm depressed, I don't write. I have to treat the depression to get rid of the block. That's easy, in the sense that I know what depression feels like and I know how to deal with it. Or at least I know that it passes.

But fear of failure? Perfectionism? These aren't as easy to pinpoint, not for me, anyway. Also, those of us who have posted fics in fandom have the added stress of disappointing readers/followers. You've no idea how terrified I was about finishing my WIP, 9 1/2 days. I was sure that readers would be like "it's been years in the making so the story must be extraordinary" and then they'd read my normal, totally ordinary story and feel let down. At other times, I'd mentioned/promised birthday gift fics to people and I felt the pressure of time passing and me having nothing to show for it. So much stress.

We say that fandom is a fun place and we're here for the joy of being a fan, but this excessive positivity often doesn't allow for the negative feelings of having a story you're proud of go unnoticed. It happens. To all of us. It hurts like fuck. It hurts to see rec list after rec list and not see your name on it. And you feel like a dickhead for feeling resentment and anger about it, because you're not here for the stats, you're really not, but fucking hell--you thought that was a pretty good story and if no one really agreed, then you're not a good writer, right?

Why does writer's block come after you've posted ten fics and not before the first one, when you're a lot more inexperienced and new at this? I guess, higher stakes. Also, times of vulnerability come and go. Once, during my writer block years, when I was trying to get over it and go back to writing, I received a piece of feedback that devastated me. It hurt me so incredibly much that I couldn't (and didn't) think about a certain story for over six months. It was like this person, unwittingly, reached inside me, found where I was hurting, the soft, wounded part of me, and stabbed me right in the middle of it. It was a good lesson in learning to protect myself when I feel vulnerable emotionally.

Imagine trying to write, worrying that you'll let your readers down, certain that your best story is in the past and you've peaked already, anxious about making little progress and falling behind, upset that no one recs or talks about your latest fic--in other words it was a massive failure--(all of these were things I experienced at multiple times) and that's on top of the author's normal worries about trying to figure out the plot and the characters and whether this POV works for the story. Who wouldn't get blocked?

I'd better stop around here, this is something that I could discuss forever. My leaving thought would be that to treat writer's block one should:

first, see if it is writer's block and not burnout or fallow period, in which case: REST

second, try and reflect on what the block is hiding, and then deal with that.

third, care a lot less. I think, at the end of the day, writer's block comes because we care so much about writing a good story that it becomes an impediment. It helps to care less. I've been posting stories unbetaed in the last couple of years. It's a deliberate decision to take back the sensation of being an amateur writing for the fun of it.

send me an ask!

[almondes]

Just some random things about my WoL that I need to get out of my brain:

They were originally going to be a BKM, but the thought of being able to poke at people with a plastic sword toothpick AND do magic really bought them into RDM

They don't like hugs, but they would accept them if given one. They give the squishiest of hugs- like they would make the squeaky toy noise if possible- which Flow exploits by grabbing them by the scruff of their clothes so that they can't run from his hugs lol

Complains about neck pain a bunch- especially during their time in Ishgard when everyone around them is a tall-af elezen and they are a short-af lalafell...

Speaking of Ishgard, Bell loves Ishgardian weather- the dreary clouds that cover the sky, the crunchy snow beneath their feet, the fog that rolls over every time it rains- anything other than the hot air in Ul'dah is better and Ishgard checks all of those boxes; it's just like the stories they've heard.

They're usually not very talkative, preferring to talk as little as possible- leaving it to Alphie to fill in the empty air.

They have also tried this on Estinien. It also did not go well.

Due to their unfortunate height, Bell has developed a habit of jumping onto a taller friend's back to get a better look at various things. They do this to both Thancred and Flow(bf's WoL) the most often as the both of them feel the most stable when jumping up on(they're both tanks).

They tried it on Alphinaud once as a test and the boy fell ass bsckwards... never again.

In adjacent to that, they also tend to hold on to a stray piece of flowing fabric/loose pants leg on others for comfort; it helps them stay grounded and not lash out during a stressful confrontation(without combat) that requires careful wording- diplomatic stuff really. They hate forced social interaction.

They are prone to snap at others- coming off as rude or insensitive- due to their upbringing and see the worst in people before they can see the good. It took a while for them to really be friendly to a lot of the Scions- especially to Minfillia. They just could not wrap around their head that she just wants to do good, without a bad ulterior motive. It does not help that they(Bell) have a resting bitch face.

However on the flip side, once they warm up to someone, they are more careful with their words- still very curt and blunt, but not as "murderous" as they are to strangers. The rude behavior is a defense mechanism so that they don't get hurt if they get too attached.. A real tsundere if you ask me-

Bell was born and raised in Ul'dah! They were supposed to take on the family business and namesake but instead they ran away from home- stealing a bit of gil from their vault- and hiding in odd places around the Black Shroud until the gil ran out and they needed a job. Sooooo they came BACK to Ul'dah to be a Thaumaturge, all the while they try to dodge any interation with their parents' employees. Fun times :)

Mahi is their longest and most sarcastic loyal retainer, a rather tall elezen man who has journeyed with Bell for a little bit during their stay in Gridania- opting to become their retainer when they decided to go back to Ul'dah. He's also the one who told stories about his time in Ishgard to them.

Unlike their DND counterpart, FFXIV!Bell is just nicer overall. They at least acknowledge their mannerisms are sometimes very prickly and aren't as pessimistic nor actively hostile towards others. They are trying!! To be!! Better!!

Have they fallen in love before? Yes. It started off as a lil tingle in their chest, and grew to quite the size... But when they found out that the person they had feelings for had his heart somewhere else, they smothered it deep, deep down.

To change the topic now, Bell deals with pain in the worst way possible: holding onto it until it makes them collapse :)

Their mannerisms have instead taken hold of how they act around him- like taking glances at him when he's not looking. They don't notice any changes though and will probably not accept it unless locked in a room forced to confess or something.

They won't say a thing about their problems and needs unless they are dying and it worries Alphy so much- pretty sure they have given him too many things to worry about whoops-

Good thing both of their hairs are white so it can hide all the stress

[the-sweetest-little-angel]

It also makes difficult cause ocd and schizospec affect how see. Ocd worsen impostor syndrome. Have horrible moral ocd. And schizospec with my experience have me almost never really in reality. Plus being system and easily influenced worsen it. It makes hard to tell what real symptoms and what just in head. And then get convinced things experienced since young aren't real symptoms. I even doubt my ocd even tho I've had rituals and obsessive and compulsive behavior since young. Like ocd always been really severe since child. Yet still doubt it and tell self wrong for suspecting it. (Diagnosis has always been informal. Just a "yeah that sounds like ocd" then nothing done. At least have meds and they help intrusive thoughts.)

So whenever suspect anything, especially stuff not understand and trying learn, make self feel crazy and bad and wrong. Even ehlers danlos and pots like "no can't have that, you don't know what is" and then like...I literally have them. (Did get diagnosis of ehlers danlos, pots not been discussed since focus was on joint paint. TvT)

And with being medically neglected, make self feel so frustrated. Want help. Want get checked and tested or whatever right word is. Want to have access. But it such fight. Mother tried deny inhaler. Mother ignored asthma symptoms. Mother let chronic pain and joint problems go for years. Parents not want disabled kid. Mother say not really autistic. Not even tested for sleep apnea when literally been told I probably have it for over year now by multiple doctors and we should get tested for it. Partly insurance, mostly mom.

It frustrating. Knowing medical stuff wrong. Having some general idea of what wrong. Keeping eye on stuff and looking into it and making list so can get help in future. And then have ocd say you are terrible person for even thinking about it. For even considering have things like ehlers danlos or be system. For even considering this or that.

Makes hurt. Cause all want in end is understanding and help. To be able to know how mind and body works. But stuck in severely neglectful home that not want disabled child. And not sure when can move out. And feel so trapped and alone. I no wanna be responsible for self anymore. I no wanna have do endless research when make brain hurt and so tired and can barely care for self. I no want have be own responsible self.

Can't do it anymore. Can't. Never could. Did out of desperation for answers. To not hate self and demonize self. To know why was "born wrong" because that how others make us feel. Want actual help. Want be able get help and have answers. Hate self diagnosis forced. Hate that had to do it just to understand that not bad person and have disorders. That pain real and not made up. That breathing difficulties real. Gives me bunch of information about many different disorders, even ones not have cause did look into those too. But just so tired. Never wanted self diagnose. Never want to feel so alone. Everything so tiring. And not knowing when diagnosis possible even more tiring. Cause knows need help. But alone. No one to help. Dependent on people that hurt and ignore us. Always at risk of trigger bad meltdowns or bad emotional problems. Always overwhelmed. Always tired. Always stressed. Always not understand. Always struggle. Always alone. Just want help.

[inky-eclipse]

disassociating and dissociating

man. my hand hurts. it hurts to type a little bit. this shit isn't symbolic, i just wanted to vent about it. as for the title, i remember i saw some texts talking about how there is a difference between dissociating and disassociating. i feel like those two words really sum up the past two weeks.

let me tell you what's really been crawling under my skin. i've been trying to get something passed by my other organization members, and one of them has been taken forever. the thing is, it would take like maybe ten minutes for this person to just look the document over but nooo this person's taking their sweet ass time. let me be so for real, i didn't want to ask these fuckers for their approval, but i need it so that the document can be passed without my ass getting in hot water for moving forward without everyone being in agreement. i didn't want to ask them about it 'cause idk where they stand and i really strive to avoid getting more pissy white folks on my back but i must be honey with the way i'm attracting these white fruit flies. god speaking of white folks, i don't know. you ever just not feeling the right vibe with some folks? there's this other organization i'm kinda with and like. it's just not it. like you'd think you'd be able to be friendly with folks that you're collaborating with even if you aren't staying in their organization, but that's not the vibe i've been getting as of late. i'm gonna do something about it soon, i just gotta buckle down and do it regardless of how it's perceived. i just read that and that sounds intense but i'm just describing leaving the organization. i'm being very strong and brave ngl.

i guess that touched on the disassociating part. i don't fully fuck with these two organizations i guess. it's like i'm a puzzle with multiple, very different pieces to me and every time i interact with some orgs, i realize that there are more pieces to me and that those pieces could never really connect with others in those orgs. man. i hate when people are nice just to keep you in the org. just be real man. i need to get some physical items that i normally use my phone for so that i don't have to keep my phone on my all the time. i wanna throw my phone into a big ass puddle outside. forget burning bridges they're being flooded. i don't even know how to talk about the dissociating part. well it wasn't really dissociating in the ways that i used to do it in. it was more like daydreaming for hours and hours. so yeah not healthy but not dissociation in the way i understand it. clickbait ass title. i've never daydreamed like that before as far as i can remember. i usually distract myself with books, shows, games, etc., but i've never been stuck in my little world. it's stopped now, but it was really disruptive when it was happening. i'd set timers to try to snap myself out of it before i had tasks that i couldn't skip, but sometimes i'd be too engrossed to leave my mind. i wonder if it kinda goes back to how i've been struggling with orgs and maybe my brain finds the daydreaming stress-relieving. i don't like thinking back to this, but the daydreams weren't even creative. it'd just be a few scenarios played out again and again with some variations. i'm a mouse on a wheel somedays. i don't know. i don't even know what mental health and/or neurodivergent stuff i got nowadays. i don't even know if there's anything new that's wrong with me. it'd be worse if there's nothing wrong with me. i can't fix nothing. there's still stuff i'm motivated to do at least even if i'm frustrated. somebody the other day asked me if i was okay. "are you okay?" first of all, stfu. if i waited to be okay before doing the things i wanted to do, i'd be waiting for the rest of my damn life. i should go to the garden soon.

[headspace-hotel]

As someone from the more "redneck" side of America, the sound of gunfire doesn't bother me that much, at least not in a rural area.

Which is not actually a good thing in the "survival instincts" department, because that one time I was being shot at, it really didn't register that my life was in danger until I was hearing bullets whizz past and my dad was yelling at me to get back in the car.

(The looney tunes gunfire sound is...actually surprisingly close to what actual bullets sound like??It's this screaming NYOOM kind of sound that is kind of, jarring and inappropriate coming from something that will kill you.)

At no point did it really hit me that I could have died. At the time I remember reasoning that if someone was just pissed that we were on their property (we were trying to find where my Mamaw's kinfolks were buried! in a cemetery! Assholes...) they wouldn't be shooting to kill.

Later I realized that it was just as likely that they were shooting at targets elsewhere in the woods and didn't even know we were there, which makes the situation scarier, since a stray bullet could have hit any one of us.

...I don't guess this improves the picture of America painted by this post.

There are so many guns here. There are incidents of literal toddlers shooting and killing people because they grabbed a gun out of their mom's bag like literally every other day. People will just walk around Walmart with guns on their hip in full view of everyone and it's normal.

And yet, to be honest I don't have the gut-level Fear of seeing a guy carrying a gun in walmart like I do seeing a cop. Cops scare the hell out of me; in a confrontation with a cop, any action outside of immediate compliance with whatever demand might provoke escalation, and normal human responses to threats and intimidation are reasons to arrest you or attack you. There's the fact that American civilians are brutalized or murdered by cops constantly, but also if a woman is detained or arrested the risk of being sexually abused or assaulted is very very present.

The thing is, I've been impressed with gun safety by people who can competently handle guns my whole life and I've been in Krav Maga where a big part of it is stress drills conditioning yourself to respond in very high-adrenaline situations, and it's been fucking scary to learn how little training cops receive in light of that. All those aggressive and fearful and hyper-alert brain chemicals make you a fucking crazy idiot.

Like, I understand on some level how it happens that cops go from pulling a guy over for speeding to murdering him. If you threaten and intimidate someone, they're going into fight or flight mode, and if you don't have a good handle on your emotions and reactions and immediately start taking steps to calm everybody down and de-escalate, that powerful adrenaline is going to kick on and aggression and screaming is going to feel real good and if you keep feeding and escalating that state of hyper-arousal you'll be high as a fucking kite on rage and fear (which is a human thing) and I reckon if you've got a uniform that grants you that feeling of legitimacy, the inhibitions that make you stop short of violence aren't going to stop you (which is an authoritarianism thing).

And if you're already seeing someone as a threat because of their race or because they're acting "erratically" in the middle of a mental health crisis, or if you just have hate in your heart for those or whatever other reasons, it's going to be way worse.

It really freaks me out when I see news stories with cops pointing guns at civilians ever, even if nobody got killed, because I was always taught that you don't even point a gun at something you don't intend to kill. And if you hand someone a gun and say "here, this is your tool for solving problems" that has some implications for the kinds of actions they will take in any given situation, hmm?

[myinnerchildletters]

7/4/2023: Letters to and From School-age Child

Dear K,

I'm a little worried about the way that the things that have been going on at home with your parents and sister are affecting you. Can you tell me how you're feeling? You can be honest--they're not going to find out, and even if they did, they can't do anything at this point. It's OK to open the box and let your feelings out.

Love,

The Fairy Queen

---

Dear Fairy Queen,

I feel really alone all the time. I'm so isolated. I don't know what family means. It means...nothing to me, I guess. I'm so detached from that word. I was thinking recently that I feel so separate from it, like I'm not part of it. It's like a vague greyness.

I'm tired all the time, too. I'm so lazy and stupid and don't want to do anything. Mom and Dad think I'm just lazy, and that's true, but I have no energy to do anything anymore. I want to lie in bed all the time, and it's SO unhealthy and bad for me.

I HATE "going places" every weekend, and I hate that my mom calls it that stupid name, like it's just something fun and ordinary. I HATE it. I feel so anxious and sick to my stomach. I literally wake up early and just read and try to get my mind off it, but it doesn't work.

I wish Mom and Dad would listen to me once in a while. They think I'm bratty, which I am, but I'm so tired and miserable. I mean, I hate "going places," and yet they think I'm supposed to be happy about it? They KNOW I don't like it, but they drag me everywhere anyway. I hate it.

And I'm so nervous and get anxious easily. I don't even know WHY. It just happens. I think I have an anxiety disorder. Sometimes, I think I have health problems. Mom and Dad say I'm just freaking out, but I'm not! It's real!

Nobody ever pays attention to me, either. I'm just alone. I feel empty inside, and sometimes things feel like they aren't real? It just happens out of nowhere. I just blink, and--boom. It's like I'm looking at the world through a TV screen. It's scary. I notice that it gets worse when I'm playing my Gameboy for so reason.

I'm so tired. I wish I could start over. Nothing feels good anymore. I told my online friend Alisha that I feel like I don't have anything to look forward to. I'm scared about the future and going to high school, too.

I just feel really sick and tired and want to cry and scream at my parents, but I can't do that. Nothing feels right. I don't know. I don't feel right. What's going on with me? Am I going crazy?

Love,

K

---

Dear K,

So, you have childhood depression and anxiety. I didn't get diagnosed until I was an adult, but you tick off all the boxes. You're also experiencing something called "dissociation." When you feel like everything's not real, that's your brain trying to escape reality because of stress.

Daydreaming is a form of dissociation. You've done that, right? That's when you're "taking a break" from reality. However, what's happening now is your brain trying to escape the stress that you're under.

I get that you're under a lot of stress at home and at school and have worries about the future. That's why your brain behaves the way it does. Weirdly, it's trying to protect you, but it's not really helping us, is it?

Anyway, there's nothing wrong with you, and you're not going crazy. Millions of people have depression and anxiety that started in mid-childhood, and plenty of other people dissociate, especially when they're under stress.

I hope that helped explain some things for you!

Love,

The Fairy Queen

[dreamescapeswriting]

Unspoken Challenge ~ Bang Chan [M]

WORD COUNT: 4.2K

GENRE: Smut, fluffy, nerdy/dom chan

PAIRING: Nerd Bang Chan x Reader

WARNING: Light choking, squirting, Chan dom...I think that’s it

A pen was tapping over and over again on the desk behind you and it was starting to stress you out. The class was already hard enough you didn't need some moron making it worse, you took in a deep breath trying to push down the urge to smack whoever it was behind you. They'd done nothing but tap the pen onto the desk as if they were anxiously waiting for something to happen. As time passed the pen tapper got faster until you finally snapped, turning around and slamming your hands onto the desk making the pen tapping stop.  

"Do you have any idea how god damn annoying you are?!" The boy behind you smirked as you snapped at him, he'd been doing it to wind you. Felix was the University player and liked it whenever girls talked back to him, it gave him a reason to shamelessly flirt with them.

"The dog bites, I like it." You rolled your eyes at the boy who had a giant smirk on his face. Lee Felix, he was one of the popular students at your university and you hated him and his group of friends. They did nothing but wind you and another student up - Christopher Bang - claiming that you were both cheating on tests or they would come up with some kind of nasty rumour about you both this week alone it was that you'd slept with the entire football team. It wound you up that they were always so cruel to Chan when he was nothing but sweet to everyone he met, it didn't bother you so much when they were mean to you but when they were mean to Chan it pissed you off.

"What's up princess? Chan cant get it up and satisfy you in bed?" A bunch of snickers followed the comment he made but you just rolled your eyes again, turning to face the front of as you started waiting for time to pass. 'princess' was Chan's nickname for you, no one else's and it irked you that someone else had the audacity to use it on you. All you had to do was make it through this one lesson and everything would be fine, you could go and find Chan, Minho and Seungmin and go for lunch. The only thing getting you through this lesson was the thought of lunch with your boyfriend and two close friends.

"We all know what you're after, a good dicking but you're not going to get it from Chan," Felix whispered in your ear as he leant forward to you. He noticed you watching the clock above the teachers head and chuckled softly, 

"You can come to me anytime, I'll show you how a real man should fuck you..." Hearing his words you drowned out his voice thinking about the first time that you and Chan had been together...How he was nothing like you thought he would be. See, everyone had Chan pegged to be the super quiet, shy and nerdy type...Which he was but once you got him into the bedroom it was as if an alter ego took over. You called him Christopher since Chan hated whenever someone would call him by his long name.

"Running late?" Minho smirked as you began sprinting towards the student library as you ignored him but he just ran alongside you, teasing you repeatedly as you rushed to get to the door. 

"Minho, fuck off. If I'm late again Chan will kill me." You mumbled as you slowed down to a walk outside the door, pushing the double doors open to see Chan had already packed up his things. 

"Chan I was caught up at work-"

"Whatever, you clearly don't want to get through the class. I'm not wasting my time with you." You hated that he was blowing you off, you'd been trapped at a late shift so you couldn't do anything about it. It wasn't as though you had Chan's number so you could let him know what was going on. He was so private he wouldn't give you his mobile number or where his dorm was, you'd tried to get it from him but he wouldn't tell you.

"Chan I need to pass this class, work kept me behind and made me do a later shift...I want to pass this class please-" You were following him out of the library as he walked away from you, keeping his head down as he tried to ignore the fact that you were there. You weren't going to let him get away with ditching you, not when you really needed this from him. There was no one else you could go to. No one was as smart as Chan and he knew that.

"It's Friday night, just go out and drink...Whatever it is you do on a Friday." He mumbled to you, stopping himself from walking when you stood in front of him. This was the first time he looked at you properly today, you weren't in your normal attire. Normally you'd be in jeans and a low cut top but today you were in a diner dress and some tennis shoes. The nametag on your dress being the giveaway that it was your work attire.

"We can do this Monday, I have plans tonight." He mumbled moving away from you but all he could think about was the dress you were wearing and the way you looked in the dress. He wasn't an idiot, he knew you were good looking but he also knew you were out of his league so he was never going to do anything. That didn't stop his mind from wandering about things though, the things he would do to you if you were his and he could have his way with you. Punishing you for being late to an important study session, punishing you for the way you wore low cut tops and bent over in front of him. Sometimes he thought you only did those things just to tease him. 

Minho chuckled at you as you watched Chan walking away, his leg was kicked up on the wall behind him as he laughed at you.

"You're not going to drop this are you?" You shook your head at his question and demanded Chan's dorm room number. You knew they were living in the same dorm building and he had to know where Chan was. There was no way you were going to not study, Chan was the smartest kids in the university and not to mention in your course. He was your only hope of passing the test on Tuesday.

The door swung open but Chan didn't seem too happy to see you standing there. The smile on his face dropped and he rolled his eyes, he thought you were the pizza he'd ordered himself. His ''plans'' for Friday night were to sit alone watching the new Anime that had come out with a pizza.

"I told you we could study Monday-" He went to shut the door but you pushed your foot in front of it stopping him from doing so if you were anybody else he would have continued to shut the door. 

"Chan, the test is Tuesday. Please. I'm hopeless without your help." He nodded at you not disagreeing that you were hopeless in it and not being able to resist the puppy dog look in your eyes so let you into his dorm room.

"You get one hour, any more than that I'll charge you." You excitedly threw your arms around him, jumping up and down as you thanked him over and over again but his mind was racing. You were still in the diner outfit that made his mind wander over everything, he could feel your chest pressed against him that made him bite his lip.

"Y-Yeah, come on in." He stuttered out, pushing his thick black glasses onto his face as he shut the door behind you. 

"What exactly is the part you're struggling on?" He questioned as he walked you into the living area of his apartment, sitting you down and sitting beside you with his own books. 

"If I say all of it will you kill me..." He raised his eyebrows at you and shook his head, he had no idea how you could have been struggling with any of it. He was helping the tutor grade papers and all of yours were on par with his. You were smart to say you were one of the popular girls in the University,

"I've been behind because of work, I haven't had time to get as much studying as I would like done." He nodded along with you and then he started questioning you on small bits from the classes that week. Wanting to know what you did and didn't know so he could come up with a studying style that would be best for you. 

Later that night you woke up to a blanket being laid over you, you flinched looking up to see Chan standing there. He'd been grilling you for most of the night with questions and when his pizza finally arrived he shared it with you. Choosing to help you rather than throwing you to the curb like he said he was going to do,

"You fell asleep, you looked peaceful so I was going to just-" You shook your head, telling him that he didn't have to explain himself to you.

"C-Can I come over during the weekend? I don't have a shift so I can study for longer. Unless you have plans?" You suggested, getting up from the sofa and hunting around for your bag, the only plans he had would be the anime and he liked the idea of helping you far more than that. 

"I don't have plans...You can come tomorrow." He whispered as he began walking you to the door, checking outside of the door to make sure the male tutor wasn't around and you wouldn't get scolded for being in the boy's dorm. The one rule on campus, no girls in the boy's dorms, no boys in the girl's dorms. 

"Thanks for this Chan, I owe you one." Without even thinking, you stood up on your tiptoes to give him a small kiss on the cheeks. His ears began to turn a bright red colour making you giggle as you quietly snuck out of his room and headed home, looking forward to the weekend of studying with him. Chan's hand slowly raised to his cheek as he touched where your lips had been, he groaned to himself ignoring the tent that was starting to pitch in his jeans. It was just a stupid kiss yet his mind kept wandering back to the butterflies he'd been feeling.

The next night you were sitting together after studying all day, it felt as though you were in class rather than studying. Chan had different tests laid out for you, flashcards and study folders all laid out for you to work from. 

"I could rip my eyeballs out, how do you get all of this done." You yawned at him, it seemed as though he just glanced at a page and the information would instantly be implanted into his brain.

"You're like one of those Aliens, aren't you? You absorb information with one glance!" The fake gasp that came from you made Chan laugh which sent butterflies to your stomach, you'd not heard him laugh like that before. The smile on his face was enough to make your whole body feel like you were floating, he looked so cute when he smiled like that. A small dimple on his cheek and the way his eyes scrunched together,

"You have a really pretty smile," You whispered before you even realised you were talking aloud, a giant blush spread along Chan's freckled cheeks and his ears turned a brighter red than before. 

"I'm sorry cutie, I didn't mean to embarrass you." You squeezed his cheeks playfully but his hand gripped onto your wrist to stop you from babying him like you were, 

"Don't treat me like I'm a baby, I'm not." He growled at you, you were taken back a little not expecting this side to come from him it and interested you a lot. 

"I-I'm sorry, I was just playing...You are cute though Chan." Your comment was only met by another growl and he moved away from you muttering something under his breath that you didn't hear.

"Chan?" You went to reach for him to apologise but he grabbed your wrists again, pinning you to the sofa below him. You squirmed under his grasp looking up into his dark eyes as he stared down at you,

"I'm not some cute little nerd," You let out a small whimper as you looked up at him. A pool went down to your core at the way he looked at you, his eyes had darkened over and it wasn't the nerdy Chan you knew. You squirmed once again under his grasp. 

"Squirming so much and I haven't even touched you," He smirked and you could have sworn the nerdy Chan you knew was gone and replaced with whoever this was now. 

"You're so pretty when you're scared...Maybe I should fuck you dumb huh? Then maybe we can fill the brain with the study material...Stop you watching your phone every four seconds." He'd caught you reading through something on your phone that wasn't the work he was setting you and he didn't care what it was he just didn't want you to waste his or your time. This side of him made you excited but you also wanted to tease him for it see what else he was hiding under the nerdy persona he was exhibiting, 

"I bet you'd cum as soon as you put it in me," You challenged, looking him in the eyes as you bucked you hips up to meet his. He licked his lips watching you as he nodded along with what you were saying, not agreeing with you but accepting the unspoken challenge. 

"Is that a bet?" You nodded your head at him and he smirked, throwing his glasses down onto the coffee table where your books were left unattended now. 

"If I win, you study all weekend and you owe me a favour." He told you as he let go of your wrists completely watching to see what you do.

"And if I win, which I will...What do I get?" He shrugged his shoulders,

"Whatever you want, but trust me, kitten-" He bent down to whisper in your ear this time, 

"You're not going to win." His voice sent shivers down your spine and you bit down on your tongue as you watched him closely, wanting nothing more than to make out with him on the spot. 

"What makes you so sure? You're just a nerd-" You stopped talking as soon as he pulled the hoodie off from his body revealing a pack of abs you never would have guessed were under there. 

"Concentrate darling, anyone would think you have a thing for the nerd." He growled grabbing you by your neck and standing you up as he carefully walked you towards the bedroom. He hadn't even touched you and you could feel how wet you were, practically leaking through your panties. 

"Strip," He ordered as he slammed his bedroom door shut, sitting on the edge of his bed as he watched you closely. You smirked at him, slowly undoing the zip of your black jacket before revealing a black lowcut top you'd worn a couple of times before. He kept his eyes on you, giving no inclination as to what he was feeling or thinking as you stripped.

"Slowly," He whispered getting down onto the floor in front of you as you got to nothing but your panties. You hissed as he slapped your thighs and you slowly began to lower your panties. 

"So fucking wet for the nerd." He chuckled as he watched the way your arousal stuck to your panties before he threw you down onto the bed. Kissing you roughly as he let his tongue explore your mouth you wrapped your arms around his neck as you relaxed into the kiss. Feeling sparks fly out of your body the moment he kissed you. The kiss intensified and he smirked, dragging you to the edge so you were displayed out for him, he ran his hand over your thighs. 

"Spread them," You did as he said and looked at him as he watched you closely. 

"Do you want me to touch you?" You nodded desperately, hopeless for some kind of touch from him.

"Where do you want me to touch you? Use your words," You wanted to scream at him just to touch you but you didn't, you stayed quiet as you looked at him. 

"H-Here," You whispered running your own finger over your clit but he slapped it away before slowly rubbing his thumb over your clit. You bit your lip, holding back the moans that were trying to escape from you, 

"Don't hide the moans, let everyone know who's making you feel good." He ordered you as he thumb continued to rub your clit in circles vigorously. You moaned out, rolling your head back against the mattress as you enjoyed his touches. Pathetic and high pitched whimpers leaving your lips whenever he would change the direction of his rubbing, 

"Feel good baby? Is the nerd making you feel good?" He questioned in a condescending tone that only made you more attracted to him. When you didn't answer him he wrapped his other hand around your neck, applying a small amount of pressure making you choke out a moan. 

"Answer me." 

"Yes! F-Feels so fucking good!" You cried out only to be met with a slap against your clit making you cry out again, he let go of your neck and pushed two fingers into you. 

"So tight princess, have you not fucked someone in a while?" He questioned as he began to rock his fingers in and out of you, using his other thumb on your clit again. 

"N-No...N-Not s-since last year." You whimpered not knowing why you were telling him you hadn't been laid in a while. 

"Maybe that's why you're always so pent up...Just need a good fucking," You nodded at him as you desperately began to plea for him to let you cum. He only rubbed your clit faster and smirked up at you, 

"Can I cum? Please?" He chuckled darkly as you begged for him to let you cum, you were dripping down onto the sheets each time he pulled his fingers out of your cunt. 

"Want you to ride my thigh first." You were shocked at his words but without hesitation, you pushed him to sit down on the bed and you straddled his thigh. Moaning out as the thick fabric came into contact with your bare core. 

"F-Fuck." You whimpered as you began to slowly move your hips on his thigh. Rocking back and forth as he put a finger on your clit making you cry out. 

The friction was getting too much for you and you were crying out his name. Your head laid on his shoulder as you rode his thigh. 

"You can cum now, like a good girl." He whispered, and just like that you did. 

"Chan!" Your hands dug into his arm as you continued to ride his thigh. Cumming onto the fabric of his jeans before he pushed you down onto the bed again, your legs were shaking as you begged for him to fuck you instead of teasing you. 

"I-I get it, I shouldn't have said what I said...Y-You win." You whispered as he began to unbuckle the belt on his jeans. 

"You're still so wet princess, and look at the mess you made." You glanced at his trousers and felt the heat rush up your body in embarrassment. 

"I want you to make a mess like that on my cock, can you do that baby girl?" You nodded at him, 

"Y-Yes Chan," He smirked at how easily you'd turned into a begging and whimpering mess for him. 

"Stand up," You did as he said and he walked over to you, chuckling as you struggled to keep your balance. As he kicked off his boxers you sank down on your knees to get a good look at him. He was huge, larger than you had been expecting and it made your mouth water. You wanted to taste him, you needed his cum but before you could even put your lips on him he shook his head at you. At first, he was going to let you but after seeing how excited you had been to do it he stopped himself wanting to prove you wrong. 

"Lay down and spread your legs." You did as he sat and he smirked watching you.

"Good girl, so wet for me as well." He chuckled as he began aligning himself at your entrance before sinking into you. You moaned out as he stretched you out, your walls clenching around him as he grunted. 

"So fucking tight," You mewled out in response to him and he chuckled moaning when he began to push in and out of you. His hands gripped onto your hips as he began to thrust in and out of you, moaning our your name. 

"Feels so good," You moaned out as you felt his cock moving in and out of you. Your walls gripping around him as if he belonged inside of you. 

"Shit Chan," You whimpered as he continued to move inside of you, his hips slamming into you as you felt your next orgasm approaching, you squirmed underneath him. Digging your feet into his ass to make him hit deeper, 

"So good!" You screamed out, dragging your nails down his back as he continued to push into you, the feeling making your head spin as it felt as though you were floating. The wet sounds filled the air with the sound of slapping skin and moans, both yours and Chan's as he continued fucking into you. 

"I can feel you getting closer, do you want to cum?" He questioned, reaching down as he began rubbing your clit. You cried out at the touch and he chuckled darkly, slapping into you harder you rolled your head back in ecstasy. 

"Cum." He commanded you and you did. Screaming out his name as you rolled your head back, gripping onto the sheets around you as you came harder than you ever had done before. You whimpered feeling your orgasm keep ripping through you as you clenched and twitched around him, an unfamiliar wetness came from you as you squirted around him moaning out loudly as it did. 

"S-Shit! W-What-" You didn't have time to question what it was as Chan began to pump into you. Grunting loudly as he came into you hard, filling you up so much you came around him again at the feeling. 

"F-Fuck." You cried out as you came down from your high, panting heavily as he pulled out of you and laid down beside you on the bed. 

"Whoa." You whispered as you turned on your side to look at him, the blushing shy Chan was back and you giggled softly. 

"Where did he come from?" You questioned, running your finger up and down his chest and abs as you waited for him to answer, 

"Where did who come from?" He frowned looking at you as he wrapped a blanket over your body, not wanting you to get sick or catch a cold. 

"Christopher." You winked at him and he chuckled shyly, shaking his head at you. 

"I hope it wasn't the last time he comes out to play...I-I enjoyed that." The same smirk was back on his lips once he heard your words, 

"Well if you study and pass your test maybe he'll come out to play again." He winked at you as you leant forward to give him a small kiss on the lips. 

The bell rang waking you up from your daydream, you practically jumped out of your seat to get out of the classroom but Felix was faster. He raced up behind you and grabbed your elbow so you would turn to face him,

"Come home with the big boys," He whispered to you, trying to be as seductive as possible but all he was doing was coming across as a cock. 

"No thanks, my boyfriend is waiting for me." You turned around to see Chan standing against the wall, he was wearing an oversized blue sweater you'd gotten him and the new pair of thick square glasses. 

"Hi!" You yelled out, snatching your arm away from Felix as you walked over to Chan, 

"Why was Felix holding onto you?" He questioned, wrapping his arms around you protectively as he eyed up Felix, 

"He was just being an idiot. Telling me how he could fuck me how a real man should," Chan scoffed at the comment and looked at Felix. 

"Trust me, the way she screams my name at night I'm surprised you haven't heard." He smirked at Felix turning you around and walking away from the boys who were all watching after you as you giggled to Chan about what you both had planned for that night. 

Tagline: @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @channiewoo @minholuvs @lkwonmj​

[star-mum]

So I read Emergency Contact

I wrote this out in real in time as I read, to added to the tags more easily. Safe to say things got a bit out of hand.

So instead of picking only "the best" comments, I decided to put you through all of it... well have fun !! or sorry !!

“What can I call you, babe?” I hate how easily I’d fold for this fuck boy shit

“Batman really lowered the height requirement, huh.” AAAA DUDE I CACKLED OUT LOUD I STG

We really “aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper’ed” his ass, good. He needs to be humbled a bit

“Her words were firm, and you couldn’t help but to listen” mommy energy remains unbeatable 

“or whatever - Adamson was” so real for this one (i dont fucking remember this plotline at all)

“I can assure you that everything else about me is… very long .” WOOOOWW original truly inspiring response (I would very much like to see it)

“You mocked his words in an entirely childish voice” I feel very seen by this behavior sksksks im sorry but I do that on the DAILY (truly insufferable)

ICE POWERS LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOO

“one of the most annoying people he had ever met, and he found himself so intensely attracted to you” A win is a win – this is my favorite dynamic specially with Jason

“not to see Adamson - a different bathroom, to pee” i really like the way you write its really entertaining and fun all around (not just like dialogue or certain plot points)

I need to remind myself this fic is over 10k words and not just highlight every single passage that amuses me

But then again if I run out of tags I can just screenshot this 

Or put my most favorite comments in the tags and send this to you directly (hi <3 if i did) ayo i actually did it in the reblog, hi anyways <3

“He had also sent himself a text from your phone that read ‘omg Jason you’re so hot, will you fuck me?” he is so annoying i must have him

“And then replied to it from his own phone with a picture of his cock” SIR 🫣🫣🫣🫣

CAN YOU TELL IM LITERALLY COMMENTING THIS IN REAL TIME

“He sent a video with very distinct audio” every day I awake not in that reality is day not fully spent

“You had no clue that you’d end up living together.” everyone say thank you sunny for this absolutely delicious meal 

oooh yeah this is dom Jason and sub reader 🤭 what a day 🤭 oh woow bratty reader 🤭 who couldve predicted this 🤭 (i have never ever been happier) 

“Tell me, how many times did you touch yourself reading what I wrote?” now this feels like a trick question *stares directly into that 4th wall*

“the way he moaned at the pain was absolutely unmistakable. It was something you remembered and used against him many times after that” all i ask for is ONE CHANCE JASON PLEASE, I WILL MAKE IT WORTH YOUR WHILE 

“you spun it as positive in your mind” as I do with all my potentially self destructive habits : D

“every other force aside from you railed Titans Tower and began royally fucking things up" this line sounds so fucking cool, like I can see a whole scene in my head, with on going narration (reminded me of “I am not okay with this” – granted I havent seen it since it came out but kinda that vibe)

“Learn to count, babe.” SO UNCALLED FOR JASON, you know I'm sensitive about my math ;-;

“Or did I make you cum so hard last night that I knocked the common sense out of your head?” : O SURPRISED PIKACHU FACE IRL !!! HOW DARE HE !!! IN A COMMON SPACE NO LESS !!! 

“you’re not that good.” ooh famous last words, can't wait for my timely demise :3 “he then began imitating your moans” I KNEW HE WAS GONNA DO THAT !!

“because sometimes - yes, he did fuck your brains out and make you completely mindless on his cock” and god bless his soul

“You froze all the milk inside of it solid” I cannot stress enough how this would NEVER get old, god if I had ice powers I would use them EXCLUSIVELY to be mildly inconvenient to those closest to me (fuck saving people, with great power comes great prank possibilities)

“‘I know’ You grinned at him” I don't wanna be that bitch but this feels like a personal callout (positively) I’m like this with my friends irl, like down to the annoying self pleased smile → AM I JASON’S DREAM GIRL ??? AKA THE PAIN OF HIS EXISTENCE ??? AM I ALLOWED TO SAY THAT ??? (present Star here, yeah Sunny I need answers sksksk)

(My friends and I piss each other off as a way to show love, i'm not just an asshole at their expense, I promise they're just as insufferable as I am sksksks)

“Given the choice, you would have let your feelings quietly live and die inside of you” okay now THIS is a callout (derogatory)

“yet again, Jason and any of his problems fell to the back burner” together we can actively change this entire plot line to give Jason what he deserves -> or kill Dick Grayson, whichever's easier

“you winced as a sharp pain came from the injury in your stomach, reaching for it with your free hand” the spot on scheming Grinch face I made at the possibility of a “patching up the others wounds” trope but with Jason doing the patching, you wouldn't believe it if you’d seen it

“'You’re hurt' He said quietly” my entire body is shaking, I'm like a rocket about to take off “You’re bleeding” I am cackling maniacally “Then let me help you.” YES !!! WE DO GET THE THINGS WE DESERVE

“I think I see a bullet in here.” oh heeeey that's fun 🫠 “You got shot and you didn’t fucking tell anyone?” i'm not even gonna question the things I find hot anymore (like the protective anger does it for me ig)

“Putting her life on the line for an emotionally repressed man that she hadn’t admitted her feelings for” damn what are you our therapist

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ He barked at you, clearly angry with you” hmm yes, i love this song turn it up

“I’m sure it’s such a turn-on thinking about my puss.” this got an honest out loud laugh out of me “It was meant to be a joke” hey i thought it was funny

‘It’s worth it.’ You wanted to say. ‘For you, I’d bear any pain.’ and once again the “its rotten work” “not to me, not if its you” rips my heart right outta my chest (i cannot stress enough how this specific trope, dynamic, whatever it is just fucking KILLS ME 10/10 does it everytime)

“He put his free hand on the plush of your stomach” fat reader babies lets fucking goooo

“I meant what I said.” me, carefully going back through my notes: yes… and what did I say exactly, it's been 3 hours

“I’m dead weight.” sir this is not the time for painfully depressing puns, unintentional or otherwise

“blinking through heavy tears as he began hurtling toward the ground” this is doing wonders (horrors) for my mental health, hOW DARE YOU !!! I know I had something terrible happen in my own little on going self insert, bUT THIS IS SO FUCKING WORST

“You were both so vulnerable” you know what Sunny, i sure do feel vulnerable now, you ass (<3)

“For the first time since his feet had touched the ground, he felt calm. He felt safe” Sunny, you have to pay for this skksk how DARE you make me FEEL

“like Gatsby reaching up toward the stars” 🫥 i haven't read or seen that shhhh dont tell anyone

 “I meant what I said. I’m not gonna let you go that easily.” OOOOOHH OKAY I GOT IT NOW, SORRY IM STUPID

“He would never be perfect but he was yours” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Okay I’m good now

Emergency Contact

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

Leave me something - or let me out. I'm starving. Push me, pull me. Waiting for the start of:

Things that I want, this happily ever after. You choke on your words, but you swallow them faster. Just want you to be my Emergency Contact.

Summary:

After Jason miraculously comes home from his brush with Deathstroke, you're both feeling it in very different ways. You have an unexpected physical wound from the battle, and he has many (very expected) emotional wounds. You help each other heal. Even if it's very stubborn on both your parts.

Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Enemies/FWB to Lovers. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. (Slight Smut). Set during Season 2, Episode 5.

Word Count: 10,400

Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

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List of detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general emotional angst, Jason has a self deprecating inner dialogue, (kind of) enemies to lovers - more like annoyances to fuck buddies to lovers, friends with benefits to lovers, the reader and Jason have a bantering/argumentative nature to their relationship, the reader is meant to be 100% gender neutral (the reader is never referred to in the third person, so there is no need to use they/them pronouns, but the reader is not called she/her or he/him), Jason calls the reader ‘babe’ (imo, a completely gender neutral term and he would call anybody that), mentions of alcohol (Jason drinking a beer), the reader character has ice powers (not entirely relevant to the plot but I couldn’t help myself lmao).

sexual themes throughout, mentions of sexting (no detailed descriptions), mentions of sexting in public, mentions of the reader character sending nudes to Jason (no detailed descriptions of the photos), one scene with detailed smut (but it is not the primary focus of the fic), the reader’s genitals are not described in any specific way, some dirty talk, Jason is more dominant and the reader is more submissive, penetrative sex, Jason is annoying even during sex, Jason has a pain kink (even when he’s a dom, he’s a painslut, I don’t make the rules), scratching/marking (Jason receiving), slight humiliation kink.

mentions of canon level violence, mentions of kidnapping (in alignment with canon), mentions of Jason being beaten by Deathstroke, mentions of Jason’s near-death experience (being dropped off the building), gun violence, the reader is injured - has a bullet wound/bullet fragment in their stomach, mentions of blood, descriptions of first-aid, mentions of puss from an infected wound (theoretically, not something that happens in the fic). That should be everything.

A/N: The title for the fic comes from a song by Pierce the Veil of the same name. It's a newer song, and it's one that I absolutely went to when looking for a title for this fic. The concept of becoming someone's emergency contact is about upgrading the relationship from casual to much more serious, and just the whole song, and specific lyrics in it suit this fic so well. I highly recommend listening to it paired with this fic.

This was based on a request from my old blog, but obvi I don't have that ask anymore - the request was about Jason getting shot and having his wound attended to by the reader, but I changed it to the reader getting shot cause I thought that was more interesting and less common. If the person who made that request sees this and finds my new blog, I hope you enjoy it! And in general, I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it.

...

If asked, you would be hard pressed to explain your relationship with Jason Todd. 

The best way you could describe it would probably be - friends with benefits? 

But most of the time, the two of you weren’t even friends. You weren’t the type to hang out casually, or spend time alone together if it didn’t involve ripping each other’s clothes off. 

If you ever exchanged secrets or those precious bits of your most raw selves, it was by mistake. It was through sarcasm, or coming off the tired lips of someone who had just been exhausted by a few orgasms. The two of you knew each other well, quite literally inside and out. But you always made a deep, concerted effort to hold each other at arm’s length. And maybe that’s part of what all the snark and harsh words were for. 

It wasn’t all arguing. You were friendly. You could be civil, at the very least. 

Right from the moment you had first met Jason, you had found him to be so damn annoying, a shitstain on the earth - yet, someone you couldn’t stay away from. The line between flirtatious banter and a truly grinding argument was always so thin with the two of you. 

… 

You hadn’t expected that your life would be truly changed when you walked into that safehouse in Chicago that day. You truly thought nothing of him when his eyes landed on you - in those moments, a completely anonymous stranger, raking his eyes over you like you were a piece of meat. It was a gaze that immediately made you feel naked, something that made you want to smack him. You told yourself it was because he was being a pervert, not because of the heat that curled in your gut at feeling so intensely desired by him. 

He had been sitting on the couch sipping a beer like he owned the place, his thighs spread wide in a way you immediately decided was arrogant and annoying rather than hot - showing off his muscle tone as if it was trying to break through his jeans. Definitely annoying. Definitely the stance of a fuckboy trying to look bigger and badder than he was. He definitely was not attractive. 

When Dick led you, Rachel, Gar, and Kory further into the condo that seemed far too conspicuous to be a safehouse, the stranger you would later come to know as Jason quickly spoke up. 

“Who are your friends?” He asked. 

As he rose from the couch, his eyes lingered on you. Though his words seemed more out of curiosity, you couldn’t help but feel that bite of something more salacious lingering in his voice. 

It caused you to scoff and roll your eyes. 

“Not important.” Dick declared, his voice snippy. He was clearly annoyed with this new guy, and you could tell that your perceptions of him were definitely not ill-informed. 

“Who’s he?” Kory asked, going for the obvious question. 

“Not important.” Dick parroted out the words again, sounding much shorter with his patience. 

“Anybody want a brew?” Jason asked, motioning with the beer bottle in his hand. 

“Brew?” You twisted your eyebrows with disgust, staring him down as you commented on his odd choice of slang. 

He didn’t get to reply, as you were trampled over by Gar’s enthusiastic voice in your ear. 

“I do!” He said, raising his hand with excitement. 

“No, you don’t.” You quickly told him, reaching out to grab his hand and put it back down. “It’s disgusting.” 

You had a grand suspicion that Gar had never drank beer before, and he had no idea what he was truly asking for. Rather, he was simply taking advantage of trying new things because Dick and Kory were incredibly slack parental figures and he was away from home for the first time. 

“No, no one wants a brew.” Dick sighed, shaking his head. He threw Jason a small glare and you resisted the urge to laugh. 

“That can’t be Adamson.” Kory said, motioning toward Jason. 

This left you confused. But you didn’t question it. 

“He’s not Adamson. Adamson’s in the bathroom. Unconscious.” Dick explained. 

“Hi, I’m Rachel.” Rachel told Jason, offering him a sweet smile - being her usual sweet self. 

“Jason.” He introduced himself, in that moment, finally giving you a name to that obnoxious face. 

“I’m Gar!” Gar said with a grin, to which Jason nodded. 

Jason caught you glaring at him, and looked you up and down again, as if trying to willfully tear off your clothes with his eyes. It made your skin itch with heat and you would forever deny that it was a feeling you liked. 

“What can I call you, babe?” He asked, his voice entirely slimy, the kind of tone he would have used to recite cheesy lines to Tinder dates, you were entirely sure of. 

Before you could come up with some clever reply, Dick sighed in frustration and started balking again. 

“Okay, who we all are doesn’t matter right now.” He pressed, his neck so entirely tense that veins began to pop from the skin. “Can we just chill out, relax, sit on the couch and watch TV or something?” 

It seemed that he wouldn’t get his wish. 

Gar quickly charged around the table, finding something else to get strung up about. 

“Yo, when did you get another one?” He asked, putting his hands on both of the expensive cases on the long dining table - a copy identical to the one you knew to be containing Dick’s Robin outfit. 

It made you curious, and the answer that followed certainly surprised you. 

“That one’s mine.” Jason said, his chest literally puffing out with pride as he stated the fact. 

“No way.” You scoffed. 

“Yes way.” He quickly argued back, the whole exchange sounding entirely juvenile.

“This one’s yours? Wait, you’re Robin too?” Gar quickly put the pieces together. 

“I thought you were Robin?” Rachel commented, tilting her head toward Dick with curiosity. 

“I am.” Dick said firmly. 

“He was.” Jason corrected, a cocky smirk forming across his lips. 

“Batman really lowered the height requirement, huh.” You said. 

The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them, seeing as it was likely the only thing you could nitpick about Jason’s appearance. Between his stunning sharp jaw, his piercing blue eyes, his oddly appealing wild hair, his muscle tone being somehow visible beneath his baggy clothing - all of it made you equally frustrated and annoyed with him, and your baser urges couldn’t resist the low-hanging fruit. 

You felt victory and a slight pang of guilt when Jason deflated because of your comment, shrinking back into himself at your words. 

He didn’t have anything to say in return, he simply sipped his beer. 

“Wait, how many Robins are there?” Gar said, beginning to excitedly ramble at the thought. “Are there a lot? Cause I would love to-” 

“Okay, quiet.” Kory cut him off, clearly becoming annoyed with all of this dancing around the point as much as Dick was. “Sit.” 

Her words were firm, and you couldn’t help but to listen. You found yourself collapsing to sit on the couch while Rachel and Gar took seats at the dining table. Jason continued to linger in the middle of the room, staring at Kory and Dick as their frustration filled the air. 

“Bathroom.” Kory told Dick, and then they left to deal with whoever - or whatever - Adamson was. 

Jason sighed and took a seat beside you. When his eyes fell on you, you set your jaw and glared at him. You didn’t give away a single ounce of the heat you were feeling as his eyes locked with yours. 

“Even if I am the shorter Robin, I can assure you that everything else about me is… very long.” He lowered his voice and whispered those last words, crowding into your personal space as he did so. 

It sent shivers down your spine, his silken voice making the words sound too tempting. Even if you twisted your face and said ‘gross!’ causing him to dissolve into laughter, you didn’t make an effort to move away from him or put any space between your two bodies on the very large couch. You told yourself it was because you were tired from a very long day of travel, not because you were enjoying the smell of his strangely expensive cologne from this close by. 

His grin was still entirely smug, and you couldn’t stand it. 

When he raised the beer bottle up to his mouth again, you reached over and put a hand on his forearm, forcefully dragging his arm down as you made a snide comment. 

“That shit is disgusting, why the hell do you drink it?” You asked. 

You found your face drifting toward his again and if asked, you would say it was a form of intimidation - not that you were being drawn in by an unconscious attraction to him. 

“Because I can.” He replied, just as snide as he slipped your grip and sipped on the drink. 

You mocked his words in an entirely childish voice, and then you raised a single finger up to it and skimmed along the neck of the bottle. It took only a single moment of concentration with your skilled powers to freeze the beer inside solid. He thought he felt an extra chill coming off his hand, but convinced himself that he imagined it. But when he kept it tilted and nothing came out to meet his lips, he shook it and then stuck an inquiring eye inside the bottle. 

When he saw that it was completely frozen, he looked over and saw you grinning, and little did you know - that was the moment he became completely taken with you. You were one of the most annoying people he had ever met, and he found himself so intensely attracted to you. 

Even if it was getting under your skin by arguing with you or fucking your brains out, he knew in that moment - he had to get inside you and drive you insane the same way that he knew you would for him. 

… 

When Dick left to go check on his old circus friend Clay, Jason winked at you and said ‘don’t miss me too much’. You made a show of putting a finger near your mouth and audibly gagging. 

Later that night, when Jason didn’t return, you hated the curl of disappointment that panged in your stomach. You wanted to hit yourself for staring at the door, waiting for the second Robin to come in behind Dick. 

You hated yourself even more for replying to Jason’s texts. 

Apparently he had taken your phone out of your jacket pocket when you went to the bathroom (not to see Adamson - a different bathroom, to pee). And he had put himself in your contacts as ‘Hot Guy’. He had also sent himself a text from your phone that read ‘omg Jason you’re so hot, will you fuck me?’. And then replied to it from his own phone with a picture of his cock. 

Unfortunately, the only thing you could mock about the picture was poor lighting. 

When you told him as much, he quickly remedied that with several more pictures - ones with better lighting. He sent a video with very distinct audio. You would deny that you rushed to put your headphones in to listen to it while you sat on the train with Kory and Gar. You would deny that it drove a hard, hot pain between your thighs. 

You dug through a folder and sent some pictures of your own. You told yourself it was to prove to him that you were too good for him - to show off something he could never actually have. To tease him. 

You would deny that you loved the compliments he gave you, that you ate up the affection like a plant lovingly soaking up the sun. 

When you were sexting him, you had no clue that you were ever going to see him again. It was almost mindless, something for a dopamine hit to distract yourself from all the chaos going on around you. You weren’t doing it because you actually liked Jason. You didn’t have any real attractions toward him, or any real plans to carry out all of the bold things you said in those messages. 

You had no clue that you’d end up living together. 

When you did find out that Dick would be taking Jason into the newly reopened Titans Tower along with you, Gar, and Rachel, you didn’t make a big deal of it in your mind. When Jason made flirtatious remarks toward you in person, you brushed him off. You put up a wall. 

You told yourself that he was nothing more than a cocky, shallow guy who would use you for sex and then throw you away - something you could never actually build a proper relationship with. And if you were supposed to live together, be some kind of team like Dick expected you to be, then you couldn’t be messy. You couldn’t get emotional. 

You had no clue that on one of those first nights living together, your self assured discipline not to give into your lust for him would break like a wafer cookie, and you would be in his bed faster than a sea turtle running into ocean. 

… 

“Fuck, babe, you feel so good on my cock.” Jason grunted, his face buried in your neck as he thrusted deep inside of you. The loud squelch of artificial wetness coming from between your thighs as he worked his hips, working you open with a needy, demanding pace. “Bet you love this cock, huh? Tell me how fuckin’ much you love it.” 

“Shut up.” 

The words came from your throat as a weak whimper, much less powerful than you had intended. 

You didn’t want to give him any more power than he already held over you - he had you weak and willing on his cock, something you would have never admitted could be true until it was happening in these moments. 

Though you would never admit it aloud, you loved the way he handled you. Having you pinned against the bed with his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, having you breathless and moaning as he fucked into you with fast, obviously skilled strokes. Your nails cut into the flesh of his back, and he let out a low rumble from his gut as the sharp sting sent a wave of pleasure through him. 

You hated the twinge of lustful embarrassment that curled in your gut when he chuckled at your words. 

“Oh, you want me to shut up?” He asked, slightly breathless from the act himself, moving one hand beside your head to raise himself up slightly to look in your eyes. 

He was sweaty, disheveled, his hair a mess, his muscles taught with the effort as he continued to pound into you. You hated that you had imagined him much like this before, and that this outlived all of your fantasies. 

“Yes.” You fired back. “Just shut up and fuck me.” 

He bit his lip - something you didn’t know was him trying to hold back his orgasm, so utterly turned on by your bratty defiance, the twinge of a whimper in your voice as you said those words. 

“You weren’t tellin’ me to shut up when I was texting you.” 

He said, all hot breath fanning across your chin, his hips spearing forward in sharp, hard hits that made your skin smack loudly together. It made you work hard to suppress moans deep in your chest in a way that was painful, like venom inside your lungs. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of your sounds, of knowing just how good he was fucking you - even if he could see it written all over your pleasure twisted face. 

“You only begged for more when I was tellin’ you how I was gonna lay you on my bed. Take you apart… make you scream my name.” 

He reached his other hand from your hip to the point where you were joined. He began touching that tender place, making sharp, vicious strokes that were almost vengeful. Tears easily gathered in your eyes and he let out another chuckle when you choked on a deep, pleasurable wail. 

“Tell me, how many times did you touch yourself reading what I wrote?” 

He asked, leaning down to whisper the words right in your ear. 

“How many times did you cum thinking about me?” 

“I didn’t.” You choked out, digging your nails deeper into the skin of his back, causing him to grunt as the pain mixed with the pleasure flowing through him. 

“Sure, babe.” He smirked down at you, turning that look into something absolutely pavlovian that would forever make you feel his cock deep inside of you when you saw it, rather than feeling annoyed. 

Maybe from that point on, it was a bit of both. 

In an effort to shut him up, you reached up and claimed his lips. It was supposed to be a kiss, but it was mostly teeth. When you bit down on his bottom lip, snarling, he tasted blood and the way he moaned at the pain was absolutely unmistakable. It was something you remembered and used against him many times after that. 

… 

You wouldn’t allow yourself any room for self hatred when it came to that break in your self control. When it became an ongoing thing, you spun it as positive in your mind. 

It was just sexual release. You and Jason both needed it. It paired well with intense training and the heavy studying that Dick made you do. It lowered your stress levels a lot, and it helped you get through the day. 

The more time you spent around Jason, the more you got to know him, and the more you came to realize that he was nowhere near shallow. You easily saw that he was caring, deep, complex, troubled. The more time passed, you found yourself falling for him and the more you deeply denied it. Because it was just sex. 

Things were good between the two of you, and you knew that if you added anything else to the mix - any complicated, mushy feelings - you would fuck it up. 

You were especially reminded of this - how important it was not to fuck things up - just a day or so before every other force aside from you railed Titans Tower and began royally fucking things up. 

… 

It was a morning just like any other at Titans Tower. It was delightfully quiet - even though Dick demanded that everyone get up at ungodly early hours to begin training, you had somehow managed to wake up before everyone else and you were enjoying the peace it brought you. 

When you got up to see that Jason was already in the kitchen, standing at the counter as he munched on a bowl of cereal, you wanted to scorn the idea that your peace would be interrupted. But instead, you found yourself willfully suppressing a smile. 

You yawned and walked over to the counter, grabbing a bowl from one of the cupboards, thinking that cereal was just the right idea on his part. A deep frown cut through your face when you poured out the rest of the cereal box he had left on the counter, and a very measly amount fell into your bowl. 

“What kind of asshole only leaves three fucking cornflakes in the bottom of the box?” You scoffed, causing him to chuckle. 

“Learn to count, babe.” He told you, speaking with his mouth half-full. “That’s more than three.” 

You rolled your eyes. You were likely exaggerating - but still, it seemed rude to you to leave such a small portion, barely a handful, in the bottom of the box. 

“Or did I make you cum so hard last night that I knocked the common sense out of your head?” He added on, throwing you that signature smirk that made heat bloom between your thighs. 

You let out a sarcastic snort, giving him a purposefully disgusted grimace as you lifted the bowl up and dumped the remaining cereal into his portion instead. 

“You might as well take these.” You told him. “And don’t flatter yourself, you’re not that good.” 

You moved behind them, distracting yourself from the conversation by making a cup of coffee. 

“Oh really?” He perked up, rising to his full height, pure mischief in his voice. “It didn’t sound like it last night.” 

Much to your horror, he then began imitating your moans. 

“‘Oh, Jason! Oh, fuck me! More!’” 

It was a cartoonish, pornographic imitation, something he likely wouldn’t have done if the others were anywhere within earshot. Oddly enough, even though your relationship was casual, you still kept it guarded and private, as though it were some precious secret that needed to be kept from the others. 

“‘Jason, please, your dick is the best! Oh, make me cum!’” 

But that was the farthest thing from your mind as embarrassment curled in your stomach, the reaction he likely wanted to draw out of you. You hated that you didn’t truly know if it was accurate or not, because sometimes - yes, he did fuck your brains out and make you completely mindless on his cock. 

But you would never admit that he was right. 

“Shut up.” You sighed, causing him to dissolve into laughter, feeling as though he had won. 

But you wouldn’t simply leave it at that. 

Instead, as you pushed the button on the machine and your coffee began to drip, you turned around and gently placed your fingers on the side of his cereal bowl. You froze all the milk inside of it solid, making it into one large frozen chunk with the spoon stuck inside when he wasn’t looking - distracted, staring at your face, looking for any trace of the reaction that he had drawn out of you. 

You just glared, and he smirked once more. 

When he picked up the spoon again and went to take another bite, the entire bowl came with it. He sighed in defeat when he realized what you had done. 

“You know, it’s so damn annoying when you do that.” He sighed. 

“I know.” You grinned at him. 

He couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach at this. He resisted the urge to grab you by the sides of your head and steal the grin of your mouth with his own. He told you that it was out of annoyance, and not affection. He told himself those lines were most definitely not blurred when it came to you. 

… 

Confessing your feelings to Jason would not have been your choice. 

Given the choice, you would have let your feelings quietly live and die inside of you. You would have just kept Jason as a friend. You would have even dropped the amazing sex if it meant staying on good terms with him. 

But the stakes rose pretty quickly, and things were taken out of your hands. The choice was stolen from you and Jason entirely against your will. 

When you found out he was missing, supposedly kidnapped by Doctor Light on the heels of some misguided plan - something inside of you shattered. Up until that moment, if you thought it was just a stupid crush, or an infatuation inside of you that would easily fade with time - you quickly found out that you were wrong. 

You went through the stages of grief like a rocket. 

Denial. Staring at the door, waiting for him to walk inside at any moment. Just like you had back at the safehouse.

Anger. Being so pissed at Dick at the other older Titans that you could barely breathe. How had they let this happen to him? How could they make him feel so inadequate that he felt the need to go out on his own, half-cocked, clearly doing something in the name of looking for their approval? 

Bargaining. You would have traded places with him. You would have been the one, alone and scared and stranded if it meant that he got to be at home safe. You would have gone with him to carry out the stupid plan if he had only asked. Why hadn’t he asked you? 

Depression. You wept in your room, hands clasped over your face, letting out chest-shaking sobs as you thought of the possibility of him never returning home again. You realized the possibility of him dying was very real and it made your lungs burn. 

And then finally - Acceptance. You finally accepted that your feelings for him were something bigger, and if it meant that you were the only person in the Tower who truly cared about him (probably aside from Gar) - the only person who didn’t just see him as a pawn to be used against Deathstroke - then you had to do something about it. 

So you laid out your love for Jason. You put it all on the line for him. You accidentally confessed to him, showed your feelings in a gesture so quiet it screamed. 

You knew that for someone who stepped up to become Robin, someone who scorned cops for pummeling down on the innocent when they were supposed to be protectors - stepping up to try and save his life meant a love bigger than anything else you could have done. 

And he was terrified of it. There was a big justice in your love for him. And to him, there was an even bigger justice in giving you an out to escape it - to escape loving him.  

… 

Hectic. 

That was easily how you would describe the last few days at Titans Tower. 

Between the unexpected arrival of Rose - Dick taking on another stray because, like Rachel said, he couldn’t resist a bird with a broken wing. Finding out that she was related to one of the deadliest men on earth that the Titans apparently had previous history with. And then Jason going off on his own without telling you, some botched hostage trade, and the group picking up yet another stray - a strange boy who had saved Jason’s life. It was all a blur of hectic chaos that had you snapping your neck to keep up. 

Sleep was scarce and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a proper meal. 

But you weren’t truly worried about any of that. 

Dust had been kicked up around your life, and you couldn’t wait for it to settle before you made your next important decision. 

Even though the wounds were still tender, you knew that things were safe for now, and your number one concern was Jason. 

The minute he had gotten in the door, even though he was slightly hobbled and clearly sore from whatever Deathstroke had done to him, he rushed out of your sight. He was clearly eager to get away from everyone like a wounded animal sulking away to lick his wounds in peace. And when you had chased him, ignoring a nagging pain in your own side from the fight, he had slammed his bedroom door in your face, entirely uncaring of the fact that you called out his name, concerned for him. 

The rest of the group was distracted with Conner - not knowing what he had been shot with or how to fix it. You hated it, but in the eyes of the group, yet again, Jason and any of his problems fell to the back burner. 

After you had taken a short shower and changed your clothes, you found yourself here. Standing in front of Jason’s closed bedroom door, hoping not to face another cold rejection. 

You wondered if he would be sleeping, wondered if you should interrupt his peace. But you knew that sleep was unlikely after everything that had happened. 

So you took the leap. 

You raised a fist, once again pushing down that stinging pain coming from the right side of your stomach. You reasoned that it was probably nothing more than a bruise forming there. And you knocked on the door. 

A few moments later, the door was jerked open, and Jason glared at you. 

His eyes were dull and tired, and there was a large bruise forming on the side of his mouth. Probably one of many others that you couldn’t see, from the way he had been walking earlier. He likely hadn’t been sleeping, but you had disturbed him. 

“What the hell do you want?” He grumbled out, his voice dull, lacking any true fight. 

“I wanted to check on you.” You told him, entirely honest. “I know it might seem stupid, but I wanna see how you’re doing.” 

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

He wanted to agree that - yes, it was stupid. It should have been obvious how he was doing after being kidnapped, beaten, and dropped off a building. But he was an idiot who had gotten himself thrown headfirst into that mess, thinking he could handle it. And he didn’t need to go crying to you about how badly he had fucked up. He had made a poor choice and he deserved all of the consequences. It was a simple fact of life. 

“I’m doing just fine, thanks.” Jason said, entirely snide and sarcastic. “Look, I don’t need your help, okay? So fuck off.” 

It was a set of harsh, cutting words. But he thought getting distance from you would be best. This whole thing had woken him up from the sweet little fantasy the two of you had been participating in. He was a natural born fuck-up. And sure, he could have you for a while, play around a bit - but he could never truly make you happy. Eventually, he would fuck you up too. He was a harsh poison and it would be better if he got out of your life before you felt the full effects. 

He moved to shove the door closed and upon instinct, you reached up and fought him on it. Unconsciously, you winced as a sharp pain came from the injury in your stomach, reaching for it with your free hand as you held the door open with the other. It should have been no big deal. With your meta abilities, you usually healed quicker. You weren’t even used to feeling it when you got hurt. You were probably just feeling it worse because you were tired. 

You tried to ignore the pain. But in a moment, Jason’s eyes went wide with worry as his gaze darted from your face, knit with pain, to where your hand was nursing the injury. Any sense of smarmy discontent dropped from his features, immediately being replaced with a softness and worry for you. 

“You’re hurt.” He said quietly. 

He let the door fall open again, reaching for your hand to inspect the injury himself. 

“I’m fine.” You played the card this time, exchanging his lie for your own. 

It was an odd play. He had lied about not being so torn up inside, emotionally devastated as he was, and now you were lying about not being physically injured from the fight. The two of you made an odd, but perfectly matched pair. 

Jason barreled right past your words, and you were easily pliant to his touch as he removed your hand from the injury. You certainly were not expecting for him to find anything incriminating under your hand. But he glared at you when he found bright red spread across your palm, a glossy wetness leaking through your shirt. 

“You’re bleeding.” He grunted at you. 

Clearly, he was disappointed in the fact that you had neglected to bring this injury to the group’s attention. Pissed off at the fact that you weren’t in the medbay with Conner receiving some treatment right now. 

Maybe you could blame it on the chaos. Maybe you could blame it on the fact that with everyone so emotionally distraught, you didn’t want to be just another problem for everyone to fuss over. 

“Whoops.” You breathed out sarcastically. “I didn’t even notice.” 

That last part was honest. In all the adrenaline, all your worrying over whether or not Jason was going to live as you watched him dangle so high off the ground - you truly hadn’t paid any mind to the injury. 

“You didn’t-?” Jason huffed out in anger, but didn’t bother finishing the sentence. 

Perhaps he partially understood himself, knowing how the adrenaline from a fight could stamp out pain. Or perhaps he knew how truly stubborn you were and he didn’t want to waste his energy arguing with you. 

“You need this treated.” He added on. 

No matter how fucked in the head he was, he never wanted to see you hurt. That was something he would definitely waste his energy on - wearing down your stubbornness until you let him or someone else in the house take care of the injury properly. 

“Conner is worse off than I am.” You shrugged. “He needs the attention more.” 

“Then let me help you.” He said, an impatient nagging rising up in his throat. “Bruce gave me some first aid training. One thing that means I’m not totally useless.” 

The words made your chest ache for him, a pain that easily competed with the bleeding wound. 

“Jason-” 

You wanted to argue with him. You wanted to tell him he had infinite worth to you. 

But of course, he cut you off. 

“Just go sit on the bed.” He told you, quiet, but a firm command that you couldn’t ignore. 

He gently pushed past you, on a quest for some supplies to patch you up with. You then found yourself drifting into his room almost mindlessly, your hand clutching the wound again upon instinct. It was a place that you felt oddly at home. The nights you had spent in that bed since coming to Titans Tower, your head delightfully empty as he had fucked you hard and fast - they were by far your favourites. 

You would say it was because of the sex, and not just because you got to be wrapped up in Jason’s arms. Maybe everything had changed. Maybe your answers were different now. Maybe you were raw and tender and Jason wasn’t prepared to chase you in that devotion. 

But that was just the thing. With you and Jason, there was never any sense of devotion. You and Jason were always hard and fast. Teasing each other, verging on the edge of vengeful. It was a flame that burned intensely hot - but it was never anything soft. It was never anything that prompted you to knock on his door so late, wanting to check on his well being. It was nothing that prompted you to make chase to put your life on the line for him. 

Even just knowing that he had the intent to attend to your injury, called himself useful because of it - the thought cradled you like a warm blanket. It had you balancing on the edge of a dam holding back a barrage of feelings that you had been quelling down since the moment you had first put your lips on his.

“I told you to sit.” Jason’s voice came from behind you. 

He had raided the infirmary and now had a handful of supplies - luckily without anyone seeing him or questioning why. When you turned to him, he was closing the bedroom door behind him, sealing you both in with this newfound soft intensity, the tired lull of two people unwilling to hold back that softness anymore. It was entirely dangerous, and entirely life-saving at the same time; and neither of you realized it. 

“Since when do you get to boss me around?” You told him, your voice low and lacking any true spirit or sarcasm. 

It was in the same vein as the banter the two of you usually threw around - bickering about who was a bigger asshole, who was more stubborn, who was better in bed. 

You expected some kind of sexual comment in return. You could almost hear it now - he was the boss of you because he made you melt on his cock, made you mindless and dumb with it. 

But, no dice. 

The longer you stared at him, catching bits of the fresh pain swimming through those gorgeous blue eyes, you wished so badly for the mischief and sarcasm and light to come back and bite you the way that it used to. 

It only made your stomach churn harder at the whole situation. Things had officially changed between you and Jason. You had yet to find out if it was for the better, or for the painstakingly worse. 

Jason sighed through his nose. 

“You can be such an asshole sometimes.” He told you. Coming from him, and given the nature of your relationship, you knew it was almost a compliment. “Will you just sit down and let me help you?” 

Even though you were utterly terrified of the swelling of emotions you felt, bound to come to a head - you did. 

You sat on the edge of the bed and he placed the supplies beside you. 

When he mumbled out a quiet ‘lay back’, and you did, his cool fingertips at the hem of your shirt pulling it upward felt strangely more intimate than any other time you had been in this same position. It wasn’t heady, you weren’t granted the distraction of his mouth on yours and his tongue shoved between your lips while a harsh throbbing nagged between your legs.

This was quiet, and calm, and gentle. 

When you caught his eye above you as he wiped away the blood with some clean gauze, you saw nothing but pity and worry and sparkling affection for you. You almost dared to call it something as epic and dangerous as love, buried deep in his eyes. He worked with the most delicate touch, almost as if he was afraid to break you, before he glanced down and inspected the wound. 

His brow furrowed with even more intense worry, guilt nipping at his insides when he got a good look at it. 

“I think I see a bullet in here.” He told you, and then he moved around the bed and grabbed his phone, turning on the flashlight to have a better light to inspect it. You felt intensely naked, intensely caught when he began shining the light on your stomach with a harshly inquisitive look across his face. “Definitely something shiny. You got shot and you didn’t fucking tell anyone?” 

It was only then that you realized when you had gotten the wound - the exact moment clicking into place in your mind. 

“It was only a ricochet.” You argued quietly. “It’s not that bad.” 

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes, and began sorting out his supplies, preparing to pull out whatever was lodged inside of you. 

… 

Dick explicitly told you to stay put. 

They only wanted the more experienced Titans, the Varsity squad on the case when dealing with Deathstroke. He blamed young naive incompetence as the reason Jason had gotten captured in the first place. You blamed him and Bruce pushing Jason out, making him feel like he needed so desperately to prove himself. But it was something Dick wasn’t ready to hear - an argument you weren’t going to have with the very stubborn team leader. 

Instead, you went for the silent route. You trailed the rest of them out of Tower, and when Dick strayed away from the rest of the group, his head on a swivel as he glanced back and forth, seemingly wanting to assure that none of the others were following him - you followed your gut instincts and went after him. 

You hid in the shadows and the moment that Deathstroke hit the button and those panels scrolled up, revealing Jason stranded on that scaffolding - you couldn’t help yourself. 

“Jason!” 

You screamed out his name, you leapt forward. 

Dick didn’t have time to scold you, not before the gunfire started. 

Kory came out of nowhere - seemingly, she had the same idea as you. Putting her life on the line for an emotionally repressed man that she hadn’t admitted her feelings for. But she was there because she was in love with the other Robin. (Or rather, a man who claimed over and over again that he wasn’t Robin.) 

Things quickly became a blur - flashes of flame as Kory fought, battling with the muzzle flashes from Deathstroke’s guns, limbs flying as they fought each other. You didn’t see it, but Deathstroke raised and aimed at you as you rushed toward the window, blindly going after Jason. In response, Dick charged forward, redirecting the gun as he pulled the trigger. You heard the sharp ‘ping’ sound of metal on metal - what you couldn’t see was the bullet hitting one of the metal beams in the ceiling. But you certainly felt it when it sliced into your side. 

At the time, it was nothing compared to the fear you felt for Jason. 

His eyes were wide with terror, and you could only focus on getting him to safety. You had no idea that a large part of his panic came from seeing you in the building. He had hoped that Dick would keep you away from all of this. But there you were, standing a few feet away from a man with a gun who was shooting around wildly. Jason would have delighted in being dropped off the building to his death if he had to see you get fatally shot when he could do nothing but squirm on the other side of the glass. 

You put two hands on the glass, banging on it - of course, it was no use. It was inches thick, meant to keep people from going through it at this height. Working entirely on instinct, you put your palms flat across it and began forming ice crystals over it, hoping to make it rigid and breakable if it was frozen. 

Once there was enough ice, you quickly looked around and spotted a metal pipe there for the in-progress construction of the building, so you grabbed it and rushed to smash the glass with it. You felt victorious as it shattered, and Jason flinched away from the shards, putting you one step closer to freeing him. 

Though the moment the glass was cleared, leaving the wind whipping around you, his first words of greeting to you were not celebratory. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” He barked at you, clearly angry with you. 

You felt a dull ache in your chest at this. You thought he might be relieved, happy, pleased. At the time, you couldn’t interpret his harsh reaction as worry for you possibly getting hurt. 

Nonetheless, you ignored his harshness. You would save him, whether he wanted to be saved or not. You draped your body through the window, reaching out to him. You made an effort to keep most of your weight planted on the floor of the building, in case the scaffolding wasn’t stable enough to hold two people at once. 

“What do you think?” You replied, pure sarcasm dripping through your voice as you reached behind Jason and began fiddling with the rope around his wrists. 

The position put the two of you in intensely close proximity. Jason caught a whiff of your unique scent, the shower gel you used that mingled with your body’s natural oils; and he felt so painfully at home. For the first time that night, he held back tears. He couldn’t help but to lean his forehead on your shoulder, taking comfort in having you so near after being on edge and terrified for so many hours. You resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair, to cradle him and give him further comfort. You forced yourself to focus on the task at hand - getting him to safety. 

Behind you, at the very back of the room, Dick and Deathstroke wrestled with the remote for the explosives attached to the scaffolding. 

Just as you managed to get Jason’s wrists freed, Deathstroke hit the switch, and the bombs went off. 

… 

You winced loudly as Jason dabbed at the wound with disinfectant. 

“I would say sorry… but, you’ll thank me later when this isn’t swollen and leaking puss.” He told you, throwing you a small smirk. 

It was smug. It was the usual kind of humor that he gave you. 

It was comforting to know that every trace of the Jason you knew hadn’t been stolen by Deathstroke. 

You held your breath as he pressed down with the medicine-covered gauze again, drawing much less of a reaction out of you this time. 

“Great mental image, Jay.” You replied, your voice dull. It lacked any of the true bite you wanted to deliver in response to him. “I’m sure it’s such a turn-on thinking about my puss.” 

It was meant to be a joke. But even unconsciously, it was an acknowledgement of that dangerous line - the line between truly caring and just using someone for sex. The line between having someone in your life as a body to get off with, and being so… homely with them. 

You and Jason were towing that line dangerously. It was a thread that you were balancing on, and it would either break, or you would cross to the other side and be forever bonded to him. 

Jason shrugged. “Maybe I don’t have to be turned on by you all the time.” 

There was more stuck in his throat. Another dangerous acknowledgement of that line. 

‘Maybe I just have to care.’ 

Both of you lulled into silence because neither of you dared to say it. 

After a few moments, Jason put down the gauze and hesitated to reach for the tweezers. He knew that pulling the bullet out would be painful, but inevitable. It was a lot like the state of your relationship with him. Break it off, and find happiness elsewhere, or acknowledge this big thing swelling to fruition between the two of you. Have Jason fuck it up eventually. Painful, but inevitable. 

“You shouldn’t have to be hurt like this.” Jason said quietly. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt for my sake.” 

There it was again - words with a dangerous double meaning. 

You looked up at him, pure pain knit across his face, and for a moment he looked from the tweezers to you and he could hardly stand holding your gaze. 

‘It’s worth it.’ You wanted to say. ‘For you, I’d bear any pain.’ 

The words lived and died behind your eyes, and your tongue decided on something else entirely. 

“It’s nothing.” You told him. 

You downplayed the pain, pretending that the injury was only a minor inconvenience for you. And in the grand scheme of life, it was. With time, it would heal. Losing Jason would be something you’d never heal from. 

Jason shook his head at this statement. 

He forced himself to reach for the tweezers then. He handed you his phone, a silent agreement that you would hold the light as steady as you could. He knew you well, too well, and he knew that you needed something else to focus on to push away the pain. He put his free hand on the plush of your stomach, pulling back slightly to hold the wound open while you held the light on it. 

When the sharp metal of the tweezers breached your wound, you wanted to swear. You wanted to call him an asshole as the pain shot through you. You wanted to scold him for leaving the Tower and being kidnapped in the first place. But you knew that even if it was playful or sarcastic, fueled by the bite of your pain, it was not what he needed to hear right now. So instead, you held your breath, and gripped his phone hard, keeping the light steady as you bared the sharp shocks of pain. 

After a moment of digging around that felt like an eternity, he pulled out the fragment and held it up to show you as you collapsed back against the bed, panting with tears stinging the edges of your eyes. 

“It’s not nothing.” He declared sharply. 

You couldn’t conjure a response. You knew he was right. And you didn’t want to be forced to admit it. 

Instead, you turned off the light from his phone and relaxed into the bed, closing your eyes as he walked around to the trashcan and threw out the bullet fragment. It fell into the bottom of the plastic wastebasket with a very small ‘ping’ - making you wonder how something so small could cause so much trouble. 

Jason quickly returned to you, dabbing more disinfectant into the wound in a way that made you groan and flex away from the touch. Once again, he did not apologize. 

There were a few moments of muddy silence with nothing but your slightly labored breathing, trying to contain your sounds of pain so as to not make him feel any further guilt about the whole incident. 

Your mind churned, and you couldn’t help the next words that came from your mouth. 

“I meant what I said.” You told him. 

At the sound of this, his hands immediately stilled. You felt his eyes on you, and you forced yourself to open your own and look up at him once again. He stared you down with intense examination. He looked for any ounce of falsity, any sign that you were lying, even posturing to make him feel better after everything that had happened. 

He didn’t find any. 

You thought he might acknowledge you, that he might say something back to return your mighty words. Instead, he simply reached for more gauze, and began putting a final bandage on your wound. 

… 

The explosion caused a sharp rattle through your ears. It shocked you and made you dizzy and put the whole world off-kilter. The only thing you could perceive past the mind-numbing hum in your brain was the feeling of Jason’s rough glove gripping tightly onto your wrist, so you gripped back as hard as you could. 

When you blinked open your eyes, you were half-hanging out of the open window, the edge of the floor cutting into your waist as you held onto Jason by nothing but his wrist. His whole body weight created a harsh burn, straining on the muscles in your shoulder as you watched him dangle hundreds of feet above the street. 

Panic flooded you. 

You scrambled to reach out with your other hand, and the moment you moved, your shirt slipped against the sleek, polished material of the floor and you began sliding out the window. You gasped and Jason stilled his panicked flailing immediately. 

“Don’t move!” He shouted. 

“Give me your other hand so I can pull you up!” You shouted back. 

Beyond the unpleasant hum of your eardrums rattling, you still heard chaos behind you. Gunshots, the grunts of fighting, Kory and Dick’s voices yelling. They were busy with Deathstroke, they couldn’t help you or Jason. 

Jason looked up at you with glassy eyes. 

He knew that with all his gear weighing him down, even with the training you had been doing, you wouldn’t be able to pull him up. Not by yourself. And if you weren’t careful, his body weight would just pull you out of the window and cause you to go tumbling down to your death along with him. 

When you saw that frown etch across his lips, that filthy look of dawning - you glared at him. 

“Give me your other hand!” You screamed, your voice raking across your throat like hot coals. A hot boiling rage at the fact that he seemed almost determined to die. 

There was one thing he was determined about. If he was going to die, he wasn’t going to take you down with him. 

His gloved wrist started to slip from your nervous, sweaty palm, and you tried hard to hold on tight. You formed large shards of ice, hoping you could create some kind of bond there by freezing your hand to his. But it would only be temporary with gravity trying to tear the two of you apart. 

“You have to drop me, Y/N.” He said, nothing but pure mourning on his lips. “I’m dead weight.” 

You both knew it was a horrendous double meaning. 

He thought he was a dead weight to your life. 

“No!” You immediately defied this thought, that feral rage ripping at your throat once again. “I’m gonna pull you up. I’m gonna pull you up!” 

You reached your other hand down and tightly wrapped both of your hands around his wrist, yanking upward. The harsh movement caused you to slide even further out the window. You were now dangling dangerously over San Francisco with only the thickness of your thighs giving you any real stability on the intensely high up floor. It made you dizzy, and the only thing you had to focus on were the wet wells of Jason’s eyes staring up at you. 

“It’s no use!” Jason said tearfully. 

You ignored him. 

You cast your chin over your shoulder, and began shouting. 

“Help me!” You screamed, trying desperately to get the attention of Dick or Kory. “Help me! Fuck!” 

“You have to let go.”

Jason’s words immediately shifted your focus back to him. 

But of course, you refused. 

“I’m not letting go of you!” You declared sharply. “Not that easily.” 

As he stared up at your tearful eyes, he knew that you meant it as more. 

Unfortunately, it was the one thing he was terrified of. 

He thought that you saw him as some shiny perfect thing, something good and worth having in your life. He thought that you were incapable of seeing the poison, the true fuck-up that he was. If you didn’t let go of him, sooner or later, just like everyone else in his life, you were going to get burned. 

So Jason did what he had to do. 

He began prying your fingers off his wrist, trying his best to keep you stable while he forced himself from your grip. 

“No!” You shrieked. “No, no, no-” 

You didn’t have much room to fight him about it without falling out of the window yourself. 

You made a move to readjust, to get a tighter grip on him - and it was the one deadly move that caused him to slip out of your touch completely. 

You were forced to watch on in chest clenching horror, blinking through heavy tears as he began hurtling toward the ground. 

… 

If not for Conner - a literal miracle - swooping in and saving Jason at the last second, then you would have spent the rest of your life regretting those moments, wondering what you could have done differently to save him. 

When Jason finished taping down the bandages, making sure the wound was clean and secure, he laid his palm flat on top of it. It was a kind of ‘kissing it better’ that instantly spread warmth curling through your gut. It was a touch so incredibly tender - especially compared to the heated, aggressive groping you were used to from him - that it caused a whimper from the back of your throat. 

You knew it was unlikely, but you hoped that he hadn’t heard it. 

“All done.” He said quietly. 

You instantly felt regret when he took his hand away and began tidying up the medical supplies. But you forced yourself to sit upright, now feeling only muscle soreness and a much duller pain coming from the area. You felt intensely thankful for his care as you pulled your shirt back down, righting your clothes back into place. 

“You’re free to go now.” Jason told you, his voice still low, as though a single decibel would shatter the delicate peace between the two of you. 

You felt your heart sink. 

In an instant, you understood what it was - he was concerned about your physical wellbeing, but he didn’t actually want to have you around. Just like his reaction to you showing up at the hostage exchange - he didn’t want your presence there. 

You heaved a sigh and got off the bed as Jason busied himself with gathering up the used gauze to throw it away. As you put your hand on the doorknob, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to leave. 

It was something else. 

It had to be something else. 

Jason hadn’t let himself drop off a building in some desperate ploy just to get away from you. He had been trying to save you. 

He was so utterly willing to give his life for yours. 

And now he was trying to back down from that. 

You turned and faced him, leaving the door closed. When he turned from ditching things in the wastebasket, he froze. He was entirely surprised that you were still there.

The two of you locked eyes, both staying still - like a predator and prey locked in a stalemate, wondering who would run first. 

In this situation, you weren’t sure who was the prey. 

You were both so vulnerable. 

Jason thought it would be selfish to get caught up in all of this, to finally admit those dangerous feelings he had for you. When he cared for things, he usually ended up breaking them. Of course, it was never on purpose - he was an idiot. Everything he touched, he fucked up. He had made that more than evident with his last braindead plan, the outing to prove that he was worthy of being Robin. Something that had gotten you shot, probably could have gotten you killed. 

If you stuck with him any longer, you probably would end up being killed. And he would never forgive himself for that. 

He would be better off ripping himself from your hold, as much as it hurt. Giving you a dose of that heartbreak now so that you could get over him and go after better things. 

As you stared at Jason, you could see all the pain boiling underneath his surface. You wondered what he was thinking, what the hell he was churning over in that intense brain of his - but you didn’t dare to ask. 

You knew that he needed to be held right now - in every sense of the word. You knew that he needed to be cared for the way he had cared for your wound, pushing past the pain in order to heal. You wondered if he would lay down and bear it or if he would continue to fight you. 

You were the one to bravely step forward. Though Jason was tempted to ask you to leave, that thing inside of him yearning to marinate in his isolation because he deserved it, he pushed it down. He let his hands naturally come to sit on the plush comfort of your waist as you put a gentle touch on both his shoulders, leaning into his body ever so slightly. 

You laid your forehead on his cheek, right next to that ugly bruise that had been left on him, and he let out a contented sigh as he felt your warmth envelope him. For the first time since his feet had touched the ground, he felt calm. He felt safe. 

You smoothed a hand across his shoulder, and raised your head, using your touch to gently tip his face toward yours. He quickly realized that your intention was to kiss him. And something ached in his heart - something painful and longing. He knew that it would not be needy and haste with the intention of pile-driving toward sex like your other kisses had been. He knew that it would be the metamorphosis of your relationship that he was not prepared to go through. 

He nuzzled along your forehead, gently stopping you. 

“Please don’t do this.” He murmured quietly into your skin. 

He knew that it would break him. 

He knew that this was the moment - like Gatsby reaching up toward the stars - this would be the moment that he was tied to you forever, damned by his love for you. Only, much different than Gatsby, he wasn’t destined for some grant fate if he didn’t have you. He was on a one way path to a messy death, and he was determined not to take you down with him. 

Tears pricked the edges of his eyes at the thought. 

You pulled back, just enough to properly look him in the eyes, and your own tears formed when you saw that pathetic puppy dog looking back at you. 

“Why not?” You demanded, much sharper than you intended. You knew he was fragile and you didn’t want to upset him any further than he already was. 

“You know why.” He replied, his voice barely scraping above a whisper as the emotion clutched at his throat. 

Jason wanted to hold onto you forever, but he was also a realistic person. He expected that any minute now, you would rip away from his arms and charge out the door, entirely angry with him, and this would finally be over. You would finally be safe from him - safe from any nasty fate his life could conjure up for you. 

You hated what he was asking of you - asking you not to care for him anymore. As if you could somehow switch it off. Impossible. 

“I meant what I said.” You repeated yourself, still entirely firm in this conviction. “I’m not gonna let you go that easily.” 

You leaned in, planting your lips on his in a light kiss. A pained sigh ripped through you when he didn’t make any moves to kiss you back. 

“Jason, please.” You whimpered out desperately. “If you get to bandage my bullet wound, then I get to do this.” 

Jason wanted to spell it all out for you, plain and dirty. He wanted to get angry, he wanted to scream. He wanted to rush along the inevitable. He wanted to tell you what a poison he was to the world, that he deserved to die and you deserved better things. But he had the utmost feeling that you wouldn’t listen. 

“Please, stop pushing me away.” You whispered against his lips. 

Instead, he listened to your plea. He let himself indulge in this selfish softness for once. 

He reached up and grabbed your jaw, pulling you into a firmer kiss, declaring every ounce of passion and terror that he was feeling in those moments. You answered it all right back - digging your fingers into the shoulders of his shirt, letting out a hot huff against his cheek as you leaned into his body. 

He would never be perfect - but he was yours.

...

Final note: yes, I used to be @/pinkchubbiebunnie. That is still my username on AO3, so if you saw this fic posted on there, it is my fic. Please do not accusing me of plagiarising fics if you see this, because this is my own fic. This is my new blog. Feel free to follow me if you’re interested in my fanfiction and thoughtful discussions of the media that I enjoy.

[scientia-rex]

I feel like I haven't been writing enough lately, not in the sense of needing to write a story--although God knows I haven't been doing that either--but in the sense of writing like I used to, in journals, to try to untangle my mind. There are dangers in writing down what's been happening and trying to make sense of it. It's easy to find myself steering by whatever is easily verbalizable, and to be drawn to the anxiety provoking and depressive.

But when there are a lot of things happening at once, and particularly when a lot of people who aren't me have strong opinions about me and what I'm doing and what's happening to me, that don't jive with what my own opinions about the situation are, sometimes it's nice to have the chance to try to unspool it. Am I a bad person? God, what a boring question! But I keep asking it and I keep trying to answer it, without success. As if I'd be capable of truly believing that I'm a bad person, no matter what I'd done. No one is. To exist is to be the end product of millions of years of evolution without the need for self-justification. Our philosophical attempts to determine whether our existence is worth it are just the thinnest possible layer of paint over a giant boulder of very, very old instincts to survive.

The tension of depression is, if you ask me, often the tension between the idea that maybe I am a bad person, against the deeper fundamental knowledge that I am not. And that knowledge isn't real knowledge--it's not coming from some real place--but it doesn't have to be. It is simply a thing our brains take for granted, like down is down and up is up, and you can fall down but you can't fall up. If I'm a bad person, shouldn't I kill myself? But no matter how deep the self-hatred runs, no matter how painful it is, it is also coming up against that ancient instinct for self-preservation, absolutely screeching in your mind like a railroad spike dragging over rock, and you cannot settle it. You can never settle it in favor of self-hatred. Suicide ends up being this response that depends on catastrophic moments; real suicidality can't last. The intensity of the urge ebbs away if the attempt is prevented by even a few minutes.

I have no idea how many patients I've seen after suicide attempts; it's too many to count, by now. But that's how it is. It's a moment that passes. Even if the self-hatred remains, because whatever led to the attempt isn't magically fixed, it's back to the ceaseless tension rather than unbearable certainty. And suicide is an attempt, very often, to fix that tension. People who look from the outside at someone who's so depressed they're catatonic think it must be a calm state, but it isn't. It's a hell of conflicting impulses. The impulse to love yourself against the impulse to hate yourself. The feeling that if you moved, you'd do something so horrible that you must not move.

I've been thinking a lot lately, so this is what I did everything for? I spent seven years in various circles of Hell so that I could be a doctor. Training to be a doctor was awful. It's bad for almost everyone, and it was horrendous for me, with my history of anxiety. Over and over again I thought about suicide. And over and over again I didn't go for it. I always had reasons. Sometimes they were very, very small. A new book. A cat to play with. Sometimes they were huge. I wanted to move home to a different kind of hell and take care of the queer and trans youth there in a way no one else would or had before. So I didn't kill myself, and I kept going, and I finally graduated residency. I thought, okay, maybe there's still lots of stress, but as I'm in practice longer, that will get better. Right?

And it's been 15 months now. And I'm depressed, and I'm tired, and I'm thinking, this? This is what I was holding out for?

But it isn't, really. I'm doing some of the things I meant to, but I'm also changing clinics because I feel like the one I'm at took all of the energy and time and love and, yes, money I threw at it--I made menstruation stations for the bathrooms at work, I put up little shelves and stocked them and re-stocked them over and over again with tampons and pads and Poopourri--and still tried to fuck me over four times in quick succession. And then asked me why I was so angry, and blamed me for my anger. Zero self-recognition or reflection.

And with changing clinics comes all of this guilt, all of this weight. And fear: what if it doesn't work out?

But I still have something to hold out longer for. I have this step next, and then when my commitment for partial loan repayment is up (it will still leave me with 220,000 dollars in educational debt, and that is with me having completely paid for undergrad between my scholarships and my parents and me working) I have another step. At that point I can drop to part time. And then I have another life to look forward to. More sleep. More hobbies. More writing.

Life is going to get better. For me; not necessarily for everyone. We need to make it so life gets better for everyone, but at least for now, for me, I can look at a time ahead where I won't want to die so much and so often.

I have very few good things to think about right now. Any direction my mind wanders down, there's guilt and fear. But there is going to come a day when I am living something much closer to the life I want to live.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

:O I just read your whumptober fic! It was good but,,, why would you hurt us like this?

I shouldn't answer this in the mindset I'm in (walked into a trigger while trying to do something nice for someone, been a bad brain day ever since) but I'm a fucking moron so I'm gonna.

cw for illness, trauma, injury, surgery, stress, anxiety, family stress, autistic burnout, pandemic, chemotherapy, near-death

Firstly, unless specified, my fics aren't for anyone but me. I'm glad other people enjoy them, or hate the horrible angst, though. Collective feels are a powerful force, and I enjoy feeling like I'm a part of something.

Secondly, that fic in particular is very specifically for me. I have had three Shittiest Year Evers in a row now and I was losing it.

First year, my career imploded and I didn't know why because I didn't know that I had autistic burnout from too many years of trying to be allistically perfect in public and watching everyone sail past me like I was anchored. Most of those years, I hadn't known I was autistic, either.

Second year, Pandemic Boogaloo, in which the stress of allasudden being responsible for teaching my two differently ND kids during spring quarter with no aids physically broke me and I ended up in the hospital, and it took most of the year to get over it. Meanwhile my husband's insurance company fucked him over in January and he had no meds for several weeks, so his health began an irreversible decline that led to severe weight loss, several urgent tests, and lifesaving surgery two days before Christmas. I got to sit and watch him dying faster all year long. My last StL update that year - the big chapter - was written and posted under the growing shadow of the very real fear that my husband might not live to see 2021 at all.

Third year, this year, they found cancer in the bits they'd taken out of him. He started chemo, and it hit him hard, and he was stubborn about it, and I started having really bad anxiety. Had to fire my therapist, which sucked. Then husband's back burst a disc, probably weakened from the chemo. He still hadn't recovered from his Christmas surgery but we were off to another surgeon. And I was there, every day, to watch him be depressed, and angry, and weak. I utterly failed at keeping my kids on task in schoolwork. They were both remote and entirely disconnected, and I could not stretch myself enough to help all three of them. So I picked my husband. My son passed his classes. My enby didn't. And then I got really sick again. In and out of doctor offices, ER, surgeon consults, got scans. It's been six months and they can't figure out what it is, which means it's probably just me trying to worry everyone into being okay. Upside: my brain really is that powerful. Downside: I just can't use the damn thing for anything useful under this amount of stress.

There have been good things. Kids are happier this year, husband is getting good test results back. But I haven't had a good break this year. Or last year, or the year before that. I haven't processed this yet. Any of it. It just... hovers there, haunting me, screaming at me like a drill sergeant.

I tried to write fluffy Ruthari to get me through the hard times. As my husband got sicker and sicker, I wrote and wrote, trying to process, to balance. But it got to be too angsty irl, and I just lost my will to write fluff. It's not a magic charm. So in the spirit of the dark and the spooky, I decided to make a list of really horrible things I've had to endure. And then I gave them to Runaan in the dungeon. Because he can take it, when I can't. That's what drew me to his character in the first place. Not his voice or his long hair or his archery or his brooding. I saw his trauma, and I said: I want that one. He will understand.

So that Whumptober? That's me, hitting Runaan with all the things that hit me first... and him not breaking under the strain. I need to see that it's possible to survive this hell, but so far, no one's really made it out the far end of it, so I had to go fictional and still keep it relevant. I blew off enough darkness to be able to write other things recently, and also to feel really awkward for planning something in October that I finished less than half of. They say never to take fics down, but I've been considering it because it's just so chunky and chaotic and I wrote it ugly and fast and it was like, half vent and half fic... Anyway it's wobbly. Concept good, execution unclear, hellcoin deployed.

Actually its a perfect representation of my mental state. Full of pain and torment and spiders and threats and liars and bad food options and lost memories of an earlier time when things were good and soft and you didn't know just how good and soft they'd be in comparison to the fresh cold hell you're living in. I really am cold. I've been cold for six months due to necessary clothing choices, see... and also it's my turn to be losing the weight. Maybe I'll hibernate this winter in a blanket nest.

If you're not ready for the unholy state of my soul as I write this, don't read my Whumptober. It's a curse, half written, and its purpose is to lift several other curses. It's psychological sausage, and you know what they say about watching sausage get made.

Don't.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (part 8)

A/n: This part is super upsetting. Character death, graphic violence, I dare even say gore. Homophia, which I should have been warning a while back I am so sorry for that. Things are gonna get HEAVY- I am so sorry lol.

Word Count: 3800+

Playlist

Masterlist

"Nah, you're not crazy," Harleen giggled.

"Says you," Y/n teased, rolling his eyes. "You may have a doctorate, but you're also bias."

Her smile widened. "Okay that's fair." Y/n sighed, sitting back in his chair. He looked down at his hands, smile small as he got lost in thought. "What's on your mind?"

"Harleen is kind of a mouthful," Y/n told her. "Do you like the name?"

She tilted her head, as if considering. "I never did. When I was younger I had a friend who called me Lee, but with things happening-" Y/n's face scrunched up and Harleen snorted. "Exactly. Name's already taken- and it would be even weirder if I went by Dr. Lee, so I scratched it."

Y/n nodded. Then he sat forward, his elbows resting on the table. "So you've never had any other nicknames?" She shook her head and then shrugged when Y/n donned a surprise expression. "Well I have to give you one then. That's what friends do, right?" She grinned at Y/n's words and he watched the room get a little brighter. She was magic like that- as if she was made of sunshine. Her happiness was contagious, and she made the world a little better. She was accepting and also calm, making him feel safe as well as loved. She was his best friend and he was hers and they gave each other something they couldn't get with anyone else: unhindered fun with absolutely no expectations. It was an odd place to find real friendship in, but here they were anyway. "What about... Leena?" She immediately shook her head and he chuckled. "Uh... I mean, there's always Harley."

She considered that. "You know what, I like it." She crossed her arms. "Harley Quinzel." She nodded. "I'll allow it."

Y/n rolled his eyes. She was only like four years older than him, but had far too quickly fallen into a rhythm of acting like an adult talking to a child every once in a while, as a joke. Whether she was flaunting the years she had over him, or the schooling, Y/n wasn’t sure, but he refused to acknowledge it and it had become an unspoken inside joke between them. "What about you? I have to give you one now."

Y/n shrugged. "I don't like nicknames."

Harley tilted her head, the bottom of her blonde ponytail brushing her shoulder. "Why not? You like giving them."

"Well, yeah..." He bit his lip. "It's just, every bad guy has a code name, you know? Oswald Cobblepot goes by Penguin. Edward Nygma is going around as Riddler. Then there's Mr. Freeze. I just feel like if I take an alias, it'll be official you know? I'll be as crazy as the people I associate with and as evil as everyone says I am."

Harley hummed. "Okay, that's fair." She sighed, raising her hands to rest her chin in her palm. "Speaking of people you associate with. You and Jerome..."

Y/n's mood darkened. It had been a while now and Oswald was gone and Jerome still hadn't made an appearance. "I think he's mad at me." Harley tilted her head in confusion and Y/n shrugged. "I left with Alfred because Bruce needed me. Didn't give him a heads up, and then went missing for, like, months..." He shook his head. "Maybe he thinks I've gone back to my old life, or that I've left him behind. I just feel like he's avoiding me and one doesn't usually do that for no reason, so I figure-"

"What if he's just busy?" Harley proposed.

Y/n snorted. "With what? Reading a really good book series?"

Harley pursed her lips. "I guess you have a point."

"Why do you even care?" Y/n asked, raising his hands to knit his fingers behind his head.

Harley stared at him silently for a long time. She had the look on her face she always does when she'd trying to read Y/n's mind. When she's analyzing everything she learned in school and looking at the actions and words that he was currently giving as context, as well as past ones, and then somehow putting it all together to figure out the secrets sometimes even he didn't know. The same magic that made Arkham home also gave her the ability to read minds- Y/n had determined she was a proper superhero.

After she reached some kind of conclusion - she always nodded after she'd done the reading and then switched which leg was crossed over the other - a little smile teased her lips. She was trying to hide it. And failing. Y/n tried not to be curious. Usually when Harley didn't tell him something it was because he wasn't ready to hear it... but that smile. It was too late. He had to know. "What?"

Once he asked, the gate broke and she grinned. "You're in love with him."

Y/n snorted. "No. I'm not." The coy curl of Harley's lips added to her raised eyebrows to make Y/n doubt himself, even though he could feel his feelings and knew that it wasn't... he didn't... no way. "He's important to me," Y/n gave. "I care for him. But... love..." Y/n shook his head. "I don't know about that. There's been too much going on- I haven't had enough time with him."

She nodded, expression serious, as if this was a very important discovery. "I call Maid of Honor at the wedding though." They locked eyes as Y/n went to tell her off, but then a slow smile rose to her face as he realized she was joking. They both busted up into laughter.

"Whoever I marry, the position is yours." He winked at her and she flipped her hair, both of them giggling.

A timer went off. Harley stood, gathering her stuff and sighing. "That's my cue. Same time tomorrow?"Y/n nodded then stood.

He draped his arm around her shoulders. "You know, you make this place bearable. You're a real friend to me." He kissed her forehead. "What would I do without you, hm?"

She rested her head on his shoulder for a second before they began walking and it got too awkward to coordinate. "Probably the same thing I'd do without you. Be alone and miserable." She popped up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. He pretended to gag and she fell into a short fit of soft giggles. "You're an idiot."

"Ah and yet what I lack for a brain, I make up with a big-" He cut off and she groaned. "Heart," he enunciated. He smirked and she rolled her eyes. "I have quite a large heart, full of love for my favorite gal." He shook her slightly, making a point that said gal was her.

"Every lesbian deserves a best friend with as little brains and as big a heart as you," Harley joked.

"And every gay deserves a best friend with as much brain and just as much heart as you." He finally let her go as she moved to the door that would lead outside. This is where they parted- her, to home, as he was her last patient as per usual. Him, further into the Asylum where he would have dinner then return to his room to be alone and sleep. Goodbyes were the pair's least favorite part of the day. "Until we next meet, Madame," Y/n initiated, pulling away to bow deeply.

Harley grabbed her doctor's coat lightly, pulling it out as if it was a dress as she bowed back. "I shall count the seconds." They laughed one last time, waving before she turned and left. He watched her go until she disappeared. She turned back several times to wave yet again, until she couldn't see him either just by turning around.

The second she was out of sight, the world lost a little color. It was a little darker. His smile got smaller and Y/n's shoulders sagged. He shoved his hands in his pockets before turning back to the hallway that lead to his room, beginning the trek.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him. People rarely touched him. The only person that touched him like this was one that Y/n hated so much that his hands curled into fists in his pocket, his face suddenly cold and empty as he stared straight ahead, halfway through a step- his foot on the ground and extended, but not carrying him forward as it had been intended to. He took a deep breath through his nose. Unfortunately, in all the chaos and people getting booted from Arkham after beating on Y/n, the one person that meant the most hadn't been caught because everyone refused to rat him out.

The man who'd started it all.

"You and her..." The older guard mused, a nasty smirk on his ugly face. "I thought you were gay." He said it mockingly, like he'd caught a child who hadn't said they weren’t hungry sneaking food when everyone seemed to be asleep.

Y/n rolled his eyes, forcing his body to relax as he faced the man. The monster. "Not every girl in the world was born solely for men to shove a dick into them, Jameson." The older man glared and Y/n smiled, getting satisfaction. "As a matter of a fact, Harley and I are just friends."

"You're pretty affectionate for just friends," Jameson argued. Y/n still didn't know the man's first name. He didn't care enough too. He didn't want another name that tasted bitter in his mouth. He already had his fingers crossed he'd never meet a cute boy with the last name Jameson, because the name alone would ruin Y/n's chances before he'd even taken a shot. No reason to make it even harder for himself.

"We're comfortable around each other." He rolled his shoulder back once, slightly stiff from sitting so long. Jameson wouldn't attack, knowing that Y/n would report him instantly- especially in such an open space, with cameras and the chance of someone rounding the corner any second - but one could never be too safe, just in case. "She gets me like no one else does. But, as you so wonderfully pointed out, I'm GAY." Y/n enunciated the word, going the extra mile by taking a step closer to stress it even more. "Girls aren't my thing."

Jameson looked like he wanted to deck Y/n. The younger boy's lips curved into a mocking smile in response. Now the guard was the one who had to control himself. "You guys have a lot in common?"

Y/n shrugged, too caught up in his casual gloating that Jameson couldn't act out like he wanted to- like he used to be able to. "Enough. We talk a lot. She's cool." He relaxed thinking about Harley. "She doesn't think I'm crazy. It's nice." He cleared his throat, focusing back on the enemy in front of him... only to immediately be confused by the very odd expression on Jameson's face. "What?"

"Nothing," the man dismissed, moving to leave. "I've heard enough. You're both a waste." He shook his head as he left and Y/n glared at his back until he was gone. Then the boy turned back toward the cell and finally made his way.

Man, why did he have to be surrounded by such assholes? Why couldn't Harley be around all the time? Why couldn't he be free? They could get an apartment and talk all the time. Help each other get through life and protect each other from unwanted attention. Be themselves all the time. Make jokes and exchange irritated expressions when idiots like Jameson said stupid shit like he always tended to.

Tomorrow. He'd see her tomorrow. That wasn't too far away.

He could wait until then.

-

Y/n's knees gave out from under him and he fell, cracking them on the cement. He didn't even feel it. His attention was being completely held by the TV, which was turned onto the news. It was a small screen that had been installed in one of the Day Rooms recently. They were rarely ever allowed to watch the news, though. In places like Gotham, far too often the news held very upsetting content that set inmates off- either into panics, or into violent rages. Y/n had stood to turn it off when he'd realized what news was being shared. Someone had been murdered. Old news. This was Gotham. Then he'd heard the name.

"23-year-old Harleen Quinzel was found dead earlier today. Her body was badly beaten, with words carved into her stomach. It was the cuts on her wrist that were the cause of death, though it's been determined that none of this was self inflicted. We received a photo of the body recently. Beware: what you're about to see is not for the faint of heart."

Suddenly the screen was showing the broken body of Y/n's best friend. The sunshine girl with the bright smile and the contagious laugh. The girl who was going to be Y/n's Maid of Honor. Y/n's better half. She was limp and unmoving, her eyes wide and empty. Her skin was pale, nearly white, except for where dark, huge bruises and blood discolored it. Her hair had been cut off, the blonde locks left next to her head but clearly detached. Her shirt had been rolled up to letters on her stomach- carved as promised.

There was an L next to a G, in a circle and crossed through once. Underneath the symbol read: Sinner.

Someone was talking, but Y/n couldn't make out what they were saying. A hand in his shoulder and he looked over to see a concerned guard. A woman. She knelt next to Y/n, but she wasn't the one touching him. No, that hand belonged to Jameson, who had a sick expression on his face- a cross between smugness and victory, muted as if he was trying to hide it, badly masked by some version of concern that was so unconvincing that Y/n ripped his shoulder out of the older man's hand.

He was on his feet again and running. Out of the room and to his cell- despite all the people who kept asking him what was going on, and someone in the very back changing the channel as the news reporter announced, "If you have any information, please contact-" Y/n ignored the rules. He ignored the people yelling at him. He ignored the people trying to stop him. He just started running and he didn't stop until he was in his room, where he opened the door and closed it behind him. His heart was ramming against his chest and all he could hear was the rushing of his blood in his ears. He saw black spots and felt an emotion bubble up that he couldn't even begin to put name to. All he knew was that it was dark and twisting and it was very quickly consuming everything good.

Something in him broke. It snapped off. Something vital. Y/n was aching, but he didn't know what it was or where it had fallen to as he lost it. He just knew there was suddenly a gaping hole where something very important used to be, and he felt absolutely terrible with it gone.

On the upside, he could finally breathe. His chest loosened and his body relaxed and as the door opened behind him, he turned to see the person with complete calm.

"Jameson." The word was not a greeting, but more of an observation. No. It was an accusation. The older man smiled and Y/n's insides began to twist and boil- less like a tightening of anxiety and more like a snake, seconds from attacking. "Why?" He stepped forward. "She was innocent."

Jameson scoffed. "You think you two are subtle? You two act like you're together and then talk about how you're not- you just 'get' each other." Jameson shook his head, cracking his knuckles. "You're spreading your sickness, Y/n." The snake coiled tighter, hissing and spitting. Y/n felt his calmness very quickly drop, perfectly placed with rage. His body didn't move, he just suddenly had a bunch of energy and he was waiting for the perfect moment to use it. "You two aren't quiet either. Strutting around here acting so out of line, in front of me. Acting like you're not being evil." Jameson scoffed. "You're evil, Y/n. And if they wouldn't let me punish you here, I'd have to get more creative. Even if you don't see it, you're in love with her. What you think you are is unnatural, and I knew if you could see how you really feel-"

Y/n's hand was around the man's throat. Jameson tried to push the younger boy away or claw his hand off, but Y/n just rammed him into the wall behind him. Jameson's head cracked against the grey wall, his efforts suddenly becoming useless. "You think I'm dangerous as a disease? You're so desperate to cure me. You're about to find just how very dangerous I am, Jameson. All on my own, with just my two hands." And then he began to squeeze. Jameson writhed and fought and clawed but when he started to get strong, Y/n would smash his head again or ram his knee into the man's junk and the efforts died down once again.

It took longer than Y/n thought. Jameson started to change color, his eyes bulging and his lips moving desperately but nothing coming in or out. Just when the man seemed about ready to pass out, Y/n let him drop to the floor. He gasped, clawing to try and get away. Y/n smiled, toeing the door gently closed. Jameson squirmed away, features taken over completely with terror. Y/n felt amazing.

"You will never hurt another person, ever again." Y/n squatted down, taking the man's thin hair in his hands. "Me however?" Y/n giggled. "You've helped create a monster. Know that every person I kill in the future is on your hands. Every injury is your fault. I'm not a violent person, Jameson." He snorted. "Well, I wasn't. But it seems you fuckwads only answer to violence, so..." Y/n shrugged casually. Jameson shook his head, choking out pleads for his life. Y/n snapped the man's neck and he stopped begging. It was so easy... The silence was wonderful. Y/n felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. "I'm done sitting idly while assholes run Gotham." Y/n stood, not even bothering to do anything but leave the door wide open as he walked calmly away, grinning like an idiot.

Something had been broken and lost indeed. It was Y/n's self control. His moral compass that kept him grounded and toeing the line between good and bad. It was the thing that kept reminding him he was a Wayne. That he was a good person. That he had a family that depended on him, in some way or another. That he had Alfred and Bruce, who he did want to visit even if he also wanted a life outside of them. That he had Oswald, who most often found solace in Y/n's sanity and depended on his restraint to reel him in when people were trying to set him off; Oswald needed Y/n's sense to balance his emotions. And, overall, Y/n was driven by pure spite not to let those damn reporters be right. He would be good and successful and he would show all of them that he could be more than the black sheep of the Wayne family. The disappointment of Gotham. The failure, always in the shadow of the Golden Boy younger brother Bruce Wayne.

But those people who Y/n cared about so much had let people like Jameson walk around, unhindered and unchecked. They had let him get beat up for a very long time before he was nearly killed and their hand was forced. They had let evil people run around and control things while they locked up Y/n for being gay. For being attracted to a man even though he wasn't a woman. There were murderers running wild, with super powers and incredible genius, but the problem people were deciding to focus on was that Y/n was gay.

Well, he was done with the lot of them. He was going to get out and prove to all of them that he was more than a Wayne. More than a mistake. More than a shadow. More than evil or good. More than Bruce's older brother. More than the one dude who had feelings for Jerome Valeska. More than one more gay plague on the face of the planet.

They wanted a monster? They would get one. And Y/n wasn't going to stop until he was satisfied, even if it meant all of Gotham had to die.

-

"Knock knock."

The door opened and Y/n looked over, his face finally showing emotion as his surprise rose. "Jerome?"

The redhead smiled, striding toward Y/n as if he has a tasty treat to share. "My little lover boy." Jerome hooked his finger under Y/n's chin. Y/n yanked his face away. Jerome frowned. "Are you mad at me, pretty boy?" Y/n glared at him. "I'll take that as a yes." He leaned backward. "What have I done, My Darling?"

"You've been avoiding me. We haven't talked in, like, months Jerome. What the fuck?"

"A tad dramatic," Jerome hushed. "And not totally fault." Y/n opened his mouth to argue but Jerome gently grabbed Y/n's throat, pressing his fingers gently into the skin. Their faces were suddenly very close and despite himself, Y/n suddenly felt a thrill to finally feel their skin touch as cheek brushed cheek. "I've been busy planning our escape, if you hadn't noticed." Y/n's eyes drifted to see a nervous Jonathan Crane and Jervis Tetch. "Come with me, won't you? I think we've been apart long enough."

Y/n suddenly began to relax. He didn't manage to smile, but he did get excited. "Well... lead the way."

Jerome left an excited kiss on Y/n's cheek, letting his hand fall away from Y/n's throat in favor of shooting into the air in victory as he giggled, turning to his two partners. "And so we all escape! Come now, we don't have much time." Y/n stood as Jerome lead the way, all four of the men finding their way out of Arkham Asylum finally.

The fun was about to begin.