#lang inspo

[ancientestdream]

i was thinking about him in a modern au

[chu-diaries]

100 days of mental healthcare: day 100/100

Well, it's over! I genuinely can't believe it's been 100 days since I started this challenge (even more than 100, since I skipped a day or two when I couldn't post).

For those who just arrived, I started this challenge in April, the day after my birthday, when I was really in bad health. I had severe panic attacks about 4 times a day, which made me unable to do anything. I dealt with constant suicidal thoughts, I barely slept anymore and I was spending everything I had on doctors, self-knowledge courses and therapies. I found myself with two options: the first was to invest in medications that would make me dependent and drugged, but that would fix my brain. However, there was a risk that I wouldn't get the dose or medication right in time and my situation would get worse. The second option was longer and more difficult: studying how my body, my brain and my limits worked, and then adjusting day after day what wasn't going well. You know that I chose this option and that I created the 100-day mental healthcare challenge to track my progress on this.

In these 100 days I learned a lot that I want to share here. As we are all unique and different human beings, you may not agree with what I applied in my life, but I ask for respect and empathy, because all of this saved me. Also, some points have a scientific basis in research I did and books I read.

1. mental health and nutrition

This was one of the first things I learned. I realized that when I was hungry, my body didn't give me clear signals. Probably due to my autism and ADHD, I was always disconnected from my body's needs and didn't know how to identify hunger (which I expected to be something like a growling in my stomach, but it never was that way). What actually happened was that, instead of hunger, I had a critical increase in my intrusive and suicidal thoughts, which made mealtimes much worse than they should have been. Our mind is more vulnerable when the body is not properly fed and hydrated, and many of us neurodivergent people will not feel hunger like neurotypicals do. Our body wants us to move to find food, so it sends us successive stimuli through our brains to fight for our lives and, well, eat. Some of these stimuli can be very negative and, instead of propelling us forward, they drain our energy and make us even more depressed, which also doesn't happen to the same extent with neurotypicals, who deal with this type of thing much better. To avoid this, I started eating every 3 hours, and not because a doctor told me to, but because I realized that my crises happened with this frequency. By eating regularly and preventively, my body stopped depending on this resource to nourish itself and I became more mentally stable.

2. mental healthcare and intestinal system

The gut is not our second brain for nothing. The health of our mind is completely connected to the health of our gut. You have certainly heard the phrase “you are what you eat” and it is true. What surprised me most in my studies was discovering that neurotypical and completely mentally healthy people develop mental disorders if their gut microbiota is altered. In other words, we must nourish our gut to maintain our mental health. The more diverse our microbiota is, the better our mental health will be. This means eating various foods per week, as colorful and natural as possible, because food industrialization is also partially responsible for the number of mental disorders that exist today.

3. mental healthcare and eating meat

This is a difficult topic, since I was a vegetarian for many years, but I want to share what I learned with you. The incidence of mental disorders is directly associated with the levels of omega 3, taurine and tryptophan. Omega 3 is a good fat and essential not only for maintaining memory, but for all of our cognitive functioning and, although it can be supplemented in a vegan way, it is not as accessible to everyone in the appropriate dosage as fish. Similarly, meat has high levels of taurine and tryptophan, which regulate anxiety and depression and improve sleep. For many years I did not eat meat, supplementing protein with vegetables and whey, and for all those years I suffered from anxiety and depression. I never imagined that my blood type would also suffer more from this lack of protein: blood type O struggles more to maintain mental health and ideal mood levels with vegetable proteins. It is a blood type that needs animal protein. Going back to eating meat was not an easy decision, but I decided to test it out: even though I ate a small amount of animal protein per day, my cognitive function improved a lot in these past 100 days. I became more mentally stable and stronger, my mood improved, my gut responded positively and suddenly the things that haunted me were no longer so big. I never thought that mental health and animal protein had any connection, but I was very surprised to discover that eating meat (or not) influences our mind.

4. mental healthcare and intrusive thoughts

Well, I studied psychology, but it was a theory that didn't deal with intrusive thoughts. In these 100 days I discovered this term and delved deep enough to understand that we all have intrusive thoughts. Neurotypicals deal with them better, while neurodivergents deal with them much worse. Unfortunately, I suffered a lot with these thoughts and suffered even more trying to understand why this was happening in my head. If you suffer from intrusive thoughts, start by understanding that they are not real and that they do not come from you consciously. An intrusive thought is something that crosses your mind and is similar to a scary radio station that you accidentally connected to. It does not belong to you. I learned to think (and I like this theory) that this is a way for the brain to prepare itself for various possibilities, even the most absurd and impossible ones. We are animals and our body wants to survive, so I understand that the brain explores various probabilities to always be prepared, no matter what happens. Of course, for anxious and depressed people this has the opposite effect and makes us want to die. Over time, you learn that you can’t control when these thoughts appear, but you can control how much power you give them. I deal with obsessive intrusive thoughts every day, but each day I’m becoming more and more able to not get emotionally involved with them. “It’s just a glitch in my brain,” I think, taking a deep breath.

5. mental healthcare and joy (which is worth more than solving problems)

I've always had a very fast-paced mind, cluttered with things and addicted to solving problems. In recent years I thought I should focus more on relaxing and opening up spaces in my mind, but I discovered that an empty mind can be treacherous for neurodivergent people. Our mind is, in fact, addicted to solving problems. That's how our species evolved and prospered. Our mind has an organizational structure that seeks, through connections and associations, to process past and future events, resolve pending issues and find solutions for what was left behind. We do this with everything, even with things that are not in our control. I spent a lot of my life trying to solve what was going on in my head and I was unsuccessful because I wasn't the one who created this situation. Although solving problems is a pattern of the mind, it is a sweet illusion. Many things are not actually solved, we only think they are. I discovered that the time I invested trying to solve mental problems that I did not create could be used to create happier foundations to strengthen myself. I learned that it is actually joy that heals, not obsessively thinking about the problem until it is solved. Every time I focused my energy on doing something good, laughing or contemplating nature, I became a little stronger and remembered who I am. I won't deny that I felt guilty - the cognitive rigidity of autism screamed at me that I was ignoring my problems and that I was creating a silly fantasy world. Even so, I fought to break out of this pattern. It is still difficult. But today I believe that I’m meant to be happy and that cultivating moments of joy makes life worthwhile.

6. mental healthcare and feeling useful

Feeling useful is essential for mental health. We all want to be part of something and be recognized as necessary. In these 100 days, I decided to resume some volunteer work within my community and I also opened a new company, with handmade products, so that I would also have the opportunity to produce something that was not only in the intellectual field (handicrafts are very good for those who suffer from anxiety). Having a dynamic routine in which you have an important role is great for mental health and your sense of self-authority. Also, getting in touch with other people's personal stories helps to decentralize our gaze from ourselves, which is very useful if you suffer from OCD. As tiring as it may be, the more diverse activities we do, the better our cognitive function becomes.

7. mental healthcare and moving the body

It's interesting that to take care of your mind, you need to get out of your head and move your body. Many of the tensions accumulated in our minds can be released by running, walking or playing some sport. It doesn't matter what it is, but move your body. We were not designed to stay still, but to do various strength, balance and endurance exercises. Our ancestors walked for days in search of shelter and food, and that's how our bodies evolved. Especially for those who suffer from anxiety, high-impact exercises not only help regulate your mood and release neurotransmitters, but also generate a stress spike that will do your body good for the rest of the day. When we trigger these spikes, our body answer quickly and creates new pathways to respond to stress, which helps us better deal with anxiety, depression, instructive thoughts, etc. Our sleep also improves, as we use our stored energy and tend to think less before going to sleep.

8. mental healthcare and sleep hygiene

I have always tried to force myself to be silent. I forced myself to meditate for many years, without much success, but after the panic attacks returned, meditating and being silent were torture. It was as if I made room for all my inner demons to dance in my mind and I always felt worse. I recently discovered that neurodivergent people struggle more with silence and that it does them a lot of good to distract their minds with sounds, images and other stimuli that allow them to emotionally engage with something real and outside of themselves. I see that it is a controversial topic, but I no longer believe in sleep hygiene without screens and complex content. My best nights of sleep were those in which I distracted myself with something until I fell asleep or listened to someone talking until I fell asleep. So if you want to test what works best for you, know your limits and do not blindly obey the orders that someone has set. Maybe you work better at dawn, maybe you only need 6 hours of sleep, maybe you are different from the average. Your life's work is to discover yourself and be true to it.

9. mental healthcare and developing self-authority

This was very important to me. I have always had low self-esteem and I have always believed in others more than in myself. I sought answers and cures for what I suffered from various doctors and therapists, but all of this only made my situation worse. I became dependent on diagnoses, consultations and sessions that never really helped me. At a certain point I decided that I would educate myself on the subjects that bothered me. I studied, and studied a lot, about psychology, neurology, neuroscience, nutrition and about the functioning of the body as a whole. Today I no longer accept any diagnosis about myself because I have developed my own authority. I am the authority when it comes to myself, you know? I don't need others to tell me what I am feeling because now I know what it is and where it comes from. I also know, fortunately, how to solve it. When I go to a doctor or have an exam, I know what I am investigating and what I need to achieve. It is very sad that today medicine is just a search for money and that you only get good care if you pay a lot for it, so it is important to get educated about yourself so you won’t fall into standardized speeches that will lead you to the ever-increasing consumption of pharmaceuticals and drugs without, in fact, looking at the cause of the problem.

10. mental healthcare and time

There are things that only time can heal. There is nothing like letting time pass. A few months ago, all I could think about was how I wanted to end my life and it was tormenting to think about living for even one more day. Waiting for time to pass was difficult, but I was rewarded. Time has a way of overcoming some things if you allow yourself to create new memories, new connections and new laughs. If you are suffering a lot, wait a few more hours. Live one more day. Let time pass and life bring you better things.

See you guys again on my next challenge (maybe a productivity one?). Thanks to everyone who liked and reblogged my previous posts! 💕

[3ternalvalentin3]

‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

madison beer wearing helmut lang, pann, & miu miu

[quaggyday]

Justice, Perseverance, and Intergrity

I really love @s0ckh3adstudios Undertale gold au so I figured I make an oc! Meet Lang (they/them) a young about 13-14 year old human and my interpretation of the perseverance soul in utg.

If you've got questions ask in the notes for now!

Flo (polka dots) and Rover (Monster) belong to @s0ckh3adstudios

(Also I apologize for how weird Clovers eyes look, I'm pretty new to drawing so if you've got tips send em)

[incorrect-multiverse]

Cassie: I love mysteries!

Luis, trying to impress her: I’ve been a suspect in four crimes.

[alottaoutfits]

Lana Lang, Smallville | season 1 ‘rogue’ and ‘shimmer’ inspired outfits 🗡️✨

[gospexchange]

🥂We'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne! 🎆

Looking for a new project to bring in the new year? Join the Good Omens Song & Poetry Exchange! Sign ups close in just two weeks!

Here's the sign-up form: https://airtable.com/appZzn07h8WK8rSwQ/pagblYosT17Il3ogr/form

And the invite to our Discord: https://discord.gg/3VJXUEzSAk

For more information, check out our About and Rules pages! [Mobile Links: About and Rules]. We hope to see you soon!!

[capturing-earths-beauty]

I just read Mooncakes, by Wendy Xu and Suzanne Walker. I had to share some of Nova's cute outfits! I love her style.

It's a fun story, Nova is a witch and Tam Lang is a nonbinary werewolf. I won't give any details about the magic and what they both get up to solving a mystery and how they find themselves in the middle of it all.

I highly recommend it, get it from your local library! Support artists, never buy from Am@x0n!

[milkyberryjsk]

i have SO MUCH aerowave drafts ive started and put off that i don't know which one to finish 😭

[petchystudies]

welcome to my studyblr!

i'm peach, i'm 27, last fall i successfully defended my master's thesis and this spring i submitted my thesis with all revisions completed! i took two years off between my bsc and my msc, and also had a sort of weird situation applying to grad school that made me anxious but it all worked out, so i'm happy to talk to people with application anxiety surrounding grad school. i'm also the first person in my family to go into academia like this so i'm figuring a lot out on my own!

i've been navigating being out as a nonbinary lesbian (they/he/fae pronouns, tho i only really use they irl) in grad school and got lucky to have an amazingly supportive supervisor and lab

currently: getting ready to apply for an NSERC doctoral scholarship this fall. this is going to involve a lot of reading up on my intended research topic to figure out what my project is going to look like. i'll be talking a lot about this i think.

i also have a job in biology outreach right now, which i may talk and post about here as well!

my main blog: @farcillesbian (i follow from there)

i also have an academia twitter that i'm thinking of reviving, if anyone is interested in following me there send me a message or an ask off anon!

[starry-eyed-psychopomp]

Sometimes I’ll see some fanart of Xiao Xingchen and just go, oh so that’s where mxtx got her inspiration for Xie Lian

[porpunta]

this bloodied motherfu🩸ker

A bloodied Stephen Lang in "Gang In Blue" (1996)

[chu-diaries]

100 days of mental healthcare: day 91/100

Today I basically switched between tired and productive mode. I worked, went to the grocery store to get some things, forced myself to run after lunch, felt good, cleaned the kitchen and made dinner. I had a really interesting class in the evening about how we still think of African religions through Christian concepts like free will, good vs. evil, rewards vs. punishments and so on. It's so sad how the early missionaries erased part of the Yoruba culture when they arrived among their people. This is a type of violence that we should discuss more.

🌸: day 8/29

💧: forgot to track again…

🏃🏻‍♀️: walk + run (2,45 km)

🏋🏻‍♀️: 🚫

📝: 🚫

📖: African studies class (3h)

🇰🇷: listened to some kpop songs

📚: 🚫

🎧: wait - exo

📺: 🚫

🛑: 5 days pick-free

💊: 🚫

[maya-hadler]

Greetings From The Past || Self Para

“My mom’s here.” 

“What?” Jonas replies back in shock, whipping his head from side to side so he can try to catch a glance of Emilia Lang. 

It’s the night of her graduation. Not her undergrad degree, which she secured three years ago nearly to the day, but her grad degree. She’s been in school now on and off for over ten years, and it’s about damn time. She’s fucking earned this. This celebration her friends and Jonas have thrown at Hotline is well, well deserved and long overdue. Through the ups and downs, and of course with the help of her partner Jonas and friends, she made it through. 

Even after her father’s passing, and the toll grief took on her, Maya still managed to pick herself up, and move forward. Cut to now, nearly four years later, and she’s better off. So then why, oh, why the hell, has she just seen her mother in the crowd of Hotline, staring back at her? And with a look that’s so intense, it causes her heart to slow its pace? 

There are many, many questions that arise in Maya’s mind when she first sets eyes on her mother standing still in the weaving crowd. Seriously? Her attendance in general, is laughable, at best. Almost an insult to not only Maya, but her father. For years and years they struggled without her to manage medical expenses and the toll cancer took on her father’s body; and on top of Maya’s schooling, the bills, and debt that came with that. It nearly wrecked both of them mentally, physically, financially…it definitely contributed to the slow deterioration of her father’s health just before he passed away. Even now years later, Maya’s dealing with the consequences of said debt. But still, even with those expenses racking up, Maya manages to continue on and complete her undergraduate and graduate degree in architecture in under nearly four and a half years. 

It was a lot of fucking work, and a lot of sleepless nights. A lot of accidentally falling asleep at her desk, and Jonas coming home from work needing to put her to bed. A lot of forgetting to eat, needing Jonas to remind her by quite literally stuffing a bowl of soup in her face. Not that he minded, of course he says he enjoys taking care of her, but Maya never likes to feel like a burden. And then of course, a lot of rants about the current state of architecture that her partner never quite grasps, but bless his heart, he tries his best. He listens at least, and nods at all the right times. But that’s four and a half years of love and support, right there. Jonas saw Maya through her father’s death. Through his funeral, the ceremony, and the years of grief that follow.

Not once has her mother called to check in, not in all this time. Did she show up when dad passed away? Yes, briefly. Maya saw her standing in the back of the room, sunglasses covering her eyes, when she gave a eulogy at her fathers funeral shortly following his death. Emilia left not too long after without a goodbye. Predictable. In fact, she packed up and left when Maya was ten, so as far as Maya’s concerned, she’s a nonissue. A nonexistent one. 

So yeah, the first question that arises in Maya’s mind is why? 

Why are you here? 

What the actual fuck, do you think you’re doing? 

Who do you think you are? 

Once anger passes through her like a tidal wave hitting a rock, she manages to turn away and grab hold of something, the nearest thing. That thing, just so happens to be her partner of almost four years, Jonas. 

“My mom’s here.” 

“What?” He looks around a bit frantic-like, eyes scanning the crowd. Jonas is highly aware of the relationship, or lack thereof. 

“Where?”

“There,” Maya nods in her mother’s direction, trying not to draw attention to herself. She shifts into Jonas and his personal space, easily ducking to hide in his chest. Even with her slight height, Maya fits perfectly under her partner; so her head bumps into his chin. 

His arm slides along her waist, pulling her in closer while the other twists through strands of loose hair from her messy updo. “Hey, look at me, Maya. You don’t have to say anything to her, okay? Not if you don’t want to. You don’t owe her anything.” 

Maya blinks, her face blankly staring back at him for a moment while she contemplates. “You’re right, I don’t…” 

How does she go about this situation? Talk to her mom, or ignore her? Or option C…kick her out, cause a scene. She’d rather not have to go with option C. Looking past the crowd, and her friends, Maya looks at her mother. Their eyes meet. Fuck. She’s staring right at her. Maya looks away and instead chooses to focus on various members of her little Grid Gang. They dwindled over the years because of life, in general, getting the better of them. But a few remain in Boston; or close by. 

Their friends are scattered about; some dancing, others ordering drinks and/or drinking them, and they’re waiting for Javier’s wife, Zara, to go on stage and perform. Over the years, the infamous singer, musician, and part-time DJ grew somewhat of a following in Boston. A lot of people came to see Zara perform, and she’d invited them to have Maya’s graduation party the night of her set at Hotline to see her in action. Seeing how crowded the place is, Maya’s finally getting to see firsthand what all the hype is about. 

She’s seen Zara perform a handful of times before; she and Javier are quite close, which means Zara and Maya talk as well. They get along well enough, though they’re definitely not, and probably won’t be, as close as she and Javier are. The rest of the group consists of Riley, Bailey, June, Sal, and Sebastian, who are all off, scattered around Hotline. 

Maya smiles as she watches them simply exist, still trying to ignore her mother’s eyes wearing a hole into the side of her head. Hell, if she’s gonna be so intense about it, why not come over and have a conversation, then? Why all the intense staring from afar? What will that accomplish? 

Maya’s eye roll. “I’m trying to be the bigger person here, but she's really pissing me off. Like, I just don’t…why the hell did she even come here? Did she seriously follow us from the ceremony to here? I’m- I can’t be bothered with it. Seriously,” Maya finally gets out, hands in the air with her head shaking back and forth. 

The answer is no. No to all of it. If she can avoid her mother, she would much rather just go ahead and do that. Right now, though…she’s making it nearly impossible to ignore her. She’s standing near the exit, her back close to a nearby wall, clutching at her handbag. From where Maya stands, Emilia almost looks a little…desperate. Distraught, and uneasy. There’s something Maya sees in her eyes that makes her heart summersault. Emilia parts her lips slightly as if she’s got something to say sitting just at the tip of her tongue, threatening to spill over. It’s not like Maya could hear her from where she’s standing, feet away, anyway. Over the music, and patrons talking. 

They stare at each other over the music, which is somehow much quieter than their eyes. She can feel Jonas’ gaze on her, worried. He leans forward to press his lips gently against her cheek, skin grazing skin, raising heat. Jonas lingers there for a moment, pressing endless small kisses into her skin. 

“I can tell her to leave,” he offers gently, still eyeing her. “This is your day. You worked really hard for this.” 

“I did,” Maya agrees, nodding as she looks up at him. A soft smile presses against her lips as she leans up to capture them with hers. “And it can still be a celebration, I think,” she murmurs when they separate, letting her eyes remain closed for a moment longer. 

“I just need to go talk to her. Get it over with; break the seal, or whatever.” 

“You sure? You want me to come with you?” 

“No, no…or maybe stay a ways back just in case…” Maya bites down on her lower lip, suddenly a little more nervous than she had been moments ago. 

Shit. What the hell is she going to say to her? What the hell is her mother going to say to her? Well…‘hi,’ is a good start, she supposes. Giving Jonas’ hand a small squeeze, she takes a deep breath and starts out towards her mother, passing by a couple people she knows in the process. A cordial smile here, a wave there, even a small pat on the back, and hand hold of, ‘congratulations on graduating,’ came from a few. All the while, Emilia Lang stands still as a statue, frozen in place when her daughter finally approaches.  

A chill runs down Maya’s spine and she contemplates walking past her mother out the door. No, hold steady. You’ve got this, Maya. You’ve got this, she assures herself, taking a deep breath in and releasing it with her words. 

“Hi Emilia. Did you see the ceremony?”

“H-Hi, Maya. How…yes, yes I saw. You look lovely, dear. Beautiful. And I’m- I’m really proud of you. You’ve done so well for yourself, I mean…a masters degree in architecture.” 

“Yeah, it’s uh…it’s certainly been a journey,” Maya agrees, her hand tightening on the glass of red wine she’s holding. It takes everything in her to hold back her comments about her mother leaving them almost 20 years ago. 

Another deep breath in and out. 

“I know it hasn’t been easy, Maya,” she begins, and Maya snorts. That’s putting it lightly…looking around, she becomes highly aware of the space they're in and having the conversation they're having in it…doesn’t add up. Maya gently takes her mother’s hand and begins to lead her outside Hotline. 

“Let’s talk out here,” she reasons, as she leads the way. Once they’re outside, she lets go of Emilia’s hand once they’re finally outside, in the fresh air. 

Emilia goes on, “I can’t…I simply can’t imagine what you must have been- what you are going through. I…I know I left, but that had nothing to do with your father, or you. Your father was a good person. The best, actually.” 

Jesus… “Okay, so then why did you leave?” 

Emilia pauses. “Maya…”

“No seriously, why did you leave then?” She goes on, arms folding in front of her chest. 

“That’s…it’s a hard question to answer.”

“Well obviously it wasn’t because of dad or I. We’re perfect. We’re better than you, so it has to do with you then, right? You’re the problem?”

Maybe it’s mean or harsh, but Maya thinks Emilia needs to hear it. If not now, then when? When is the best time to tell someone the goddamn honest to God truth? Never any time like the present; and Emilia’s quiet and stunned enough into submission to listen. 

“What? You just, ‘couldn’t handle it?’ Couldn’t hack being a mom? Being responsible for someone else? Because I sure as hell know it’s got nothing to do with me. I know it. Years, and years of therapy taught me that, Emilia. Like I may doubt myself at times because I’ve got anxiety, but I know exactly who I am, and what I want. I’m loyal, I’m brave, I’m strong, I’m there for the people I care about. I don’t leave when I’m scared. I don’t bail on people I love because I’m scared. I fight through it because I’m strong. That’s how I know this thing, this rift between us? Has everything to do with you not working out whatever issues you have being there for me. Quite frankly, dad did enough for the both of you. My friends, and my partner, and myself, do that for me now. I’m there for me. That guy back there, the blonde? Jonas? He’s there for me. My friends are there for me. So you really don’t have to show up here now, to be here for me. That’s already covered. And I’m shocked you think you have the right.” 

Jesus, that came out in a bit of a word vomit. Maya breathes deeply, and silences herself while she takes a minute to examine her mother. Tears are forming in the woman's eyes and Maya can’t help but feel guilty for that. Is she angry with her mother? Yes, but she doesn’t want to see her cry, either. 

“I- I’m…sorry I raised my voice. I’m sorry I sort of just…attacked you,” Maya mutters, eyeing her mother cautiously. Tears won’t take away the fact that this woman abandoned her for over nineteen years. That fact can’t and doesn’t escape her even if she’s apologizing. 

“No, no, you…you have every right to be upset. Every right. I left you, I didn’t give an explanation, or say goodbye. This is on me, Maya, and I do know that.”

Maya wants to believe her, and she sort of does. It’s coming off as genuine. She sure as hell hopes it is, because this conversation is all she’s ever wanted, for nineteen years. It’s a long damn time coming. So she should hear her out, right? She wanted a mom for so long, but shut that want off years ago to preserve herself, for protection. Now that it’s right in front of her, an actual possibility, well…it feels like a lot. 

“I think that’s why I felt so compelled to come out here and see you. For so, so many years I let the regret and guilt of leaving keep me from trying to develop a relationship with you again. I was scared you wouldn’t accept what I had to say, or the apology I wanted to give. I’m sorry. Truly, Maya, I am. And you don’t have to accept my apology, or invite me into your life. I know I’m not owed that after what I’ve done,” the older woman finishes, wiping tears away with the back of her hand. 

Jeez…this went deep. Maya doesn’t know how to respond at first. She hasn’t forgiven her mother, not even when she apologizes can she even consider beginning to forgive her right now, after all this time…it just hurts too much. Quite frankly, she still wishes she hadn’t shown up at all, and left it the way she did. Maybe if this meeting happened before her father died, she’d feel differently. But now…well, her heart’s got walls up. She’s guarded. She isn’t as willing to let others in as she once was, and she’s definitely not as willing to trust in the same way. That scar came from her mother, when she was ten.

It took years, and years to see it before her father passed away, but it took that act for her to finally bring it to the surface. All the trauma surrounding her mother walking out and her absence after came up with the grief she had for her father. The grief she still has. It’s hard. It almost feels like her mother subconsciously feels as though Maya needs her now that her father has passed. She doesn’t. Maya has lived without her before, she can still do it now. 

It’s her father she misses. Her father who took care of her throughout her entire childhood; who raised her. Maya clears her throat and looks down. She’s unsure of what to do with her hands, so she uses one to tuck loose hair behind her ear, and the other to fold across her chest when the breeze picks up a little. Both the women shift uncomfortably where they stand. More silence passes before Maya finally speaks up.

“I appreciate you saying that, mom. I really do. But I think…I dunno. I don’t think I can forgive you yet. There’s been so much time that’s passed by now, and I can’t forget the nearly twenty years you weren’t there.” Her mother looks down when Maya says the last bit. 

“Dad may have died four years ago now, but it still feels fresh to me. I’m not gonna replace one parent with another, if that’s what you think will happen here-”

“I’m not trying to do that, Maya, never,” Emilia says almost in tandem with her daughter speaking. 

“-It won’t. Okay, well, I’m almost 30 now. Just to be clear, I can take care of myself, and have been. But…maybe one day we can try to be friends, or…something. I don’t know what, but we can try. When I’m ready. Just, not right now. I do appreciate the gesture though, I’m, um…glad, you did it. I am. It’s a step forward, at least.” And that’s all she’s willing to give her mother after this extension of an olive branch, twenty years later. Emilia doesn’t deserve it, not by a longshot. But Maya’s father would have liked to see his daughter and ex-wife rekindling their relationship all these years later. He always wanted that for them; he died wanting that. 

So for him, and right now at least, only him, she gives her mother the opportunity to make up for lost time. To redeem herself, if that’s even humanly possible. They’ll just have to wait and see, she supposes. 

“I can accept that,” Emilia nods, smiling gently towards her daughter. “I’d like for us to be friends, or something. Anything…when you’re ready. Can I…” she hesitates, but then reaches into her back pocket. 

“Can we exchange numbers? Your dad used to keep me updated, but I didn’t know…”

“My number’s the same as it always has been. Here,” Maya says, reaching over to take her mother’s phone. She types in her own name, and when it pops up, she clicks on it, and presses the call button. Once it’s connected, she hangs up, and hands the phone back to her mother. 

“There, now I have your number too. And I can um…reach out. When I’m ready,” Maya repeats with a nod of her head. 

For a moment they both just stand there in silence, looking awkwardly at the ground, and then each other. Well…that’s it then, isn’t it? Maya’s said all she can say. Now it’s time to go back inside to her graduation party; to her celebration with her friends and her partner. This is about her for once. 

“Thank you. I’ll um…I’ll see or talk to you later, then?” Again, Emilia hesitates in her movements, but eventually reaches out to hug her daughter. Maya accepts it, awkwardly, not knowing exactly how to fit into her mother’s arms.

It’s so…foreign. She really doesn’t know this person; Emilia’s practically just an acquaintance. After a moment of standing in their stiff awkward embrace, Maya breaks it, and begins to back away slowly towards the club. 

“See or talk to you later, Emilia. Nice seeing you,” she says politely as she waves goodbye and turns to walk away. Without realizing it, Maya releases the tension building in her shoulders, dropping them almost instantly when she’s back inside Hotline. Despite being outside in fresh air, it felt almost more suffocating being out there than it did here. 

“Oops!” Maya exclaims, nearly running into someone on her way back in. Oh. It’s Jonas. Immediately, her arms wrap around him. “Oh thank fuck,” she breaths into him, closing her eyes. “That was rough.” 

“You okay?” Jonas murmurs into her hair, tilting his head so his chin dips just above Maya’s  forehead. He kisses that spot gently a few times as his own arms wrap around her. “I was just coming to grab you; Zara’s going on next… that looked a little intense out there at first.” 

“Oh she is? Good timing... I’m okay, just…tired. I’m, like, exhausted now, actually. But just mentally exhausted, like I’m still extremely ready for all this,” Maya clarifies quickly. “I’m here for Zara performing okay? Like…I just need to forget about that for a little while and have fun, you know? This is my day. I worked hard for this!" Maya hypes herself up, trying to forget the slight pain of nerves growing in her chest. Seeing her mother is a lot. But it's important to her she's present in the moment for this celebration of her hard work. Her mother would not, and could not take that away from her now.

"We can talk about it later, though, because I want to. For right now though? I wanna just forget about it, about her, and I wanna dance with you.” Maybe her partner can tell something's off about her; especially after all these years of being together, he's gotten good at reading her. But he lets it go, instead choosing to believe her words and follow them through. They'll talk later.

Jonas smiles, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against hers. “I think I can manage that.”

Maya scrunches her nose when she smiles back at him, tapping his nose. “I knew you could.” 

With that, she leans forward, catching his lips softly against hers. Even if things weren’t perfect, they’d be okay. Even if the relationship she had with her mother was strained, they could begin to repair that relationship. Even though her father passed away, he’s still present in her life now. All those things are true. All of those things are true. All of those things are true. She reminds herself of this again, and again as she takes Jonas’ hand, leading him towards the dance floor just as Zara takes the stage.

[eileenwdj]

kisses for san lang 🌸

a 伊吹鸡腿子 (twitter/weibo) art style study w/ hualian | pose ref/inspo

[zepskies]

Miss Professor

Pairing: Jason Teague x F. Reader

(Love triangle: Jason T. x Lana Lang)

Summary: Jason has to make a decision. You, or Lana Lang.

AN: Here’s the sequel to “Assistant Hottie.” Hope you enjoy!

Song Inspo: “Look at You” by Screaming Trees

Word Count: 5,200 Tags/Warnings: Angst, love triangle, hurt/comfort, fluff and a tinge of spice.~

Jason finds you in the bowels of the university library.

Out of four giant floors of books and computer labs at Central Kansas A&M (CKM), they just had to put the Writing Center in the non-proverbial basement. There you have to wear at least two layers at all times, despite the late-spring swelter outside.

Like now, when he enters the Writing Center lobby and finds you at your desk, tapping your red pen on your lip as you work on revising an essay. Jason smiles at the sight of your fuzzy red and green sweater over your jeans and ankle boots.

“You know, Christmas came and went, like, five months ago,” he teases.

You glance up at him as he steals a chair from your coworker’s desk. She’s conveniently been on break…for two hours now. Leaving you with a mildly enormous stack of essays to edit and leave feedback on.

“Yeah well, I’m running out of winterwear. It’s almost summer, for God’s sake,” you grouse. And yet, you shiver when another pass of the AC vent above your head hits your back.

Jason smiles, but he also shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around your frame. It’s lighter than what you’re wearing, but he hopes the added layer helps. You can’t help smiling up at him, though your brows end up furrowing.

“Oh, don’t do that, you’re gonna be freezing,” you protest. You try to take off the jacket, but Jason stops you by wrapping it snugly around your shoulders.

“It’s okay, I don’t plan on being here that long,” he replies.

You raise a brow. “Oh really?”

Jason grins. “You’ve got my British Lit. paper, right?”

You narrow your eyes at him, with a light grumble. “Some friendship this is. You only come to see me when you want something.”

Jason mock frowns at that accusation, but he plies you with raised brows and waggling “gimme” fingers until you relent. You reach back into your files with a sigh and hand him his ten-page essay, complete with your revisions and suggestions for the final draft.

“Here you go, freeloader,” you quip.

“Many thanks, Miss Professor,” Jason rejoins.

The nickname always manages to make your face warm a bit, no matter how you try to stamp down the butterflies in your stomach. It doesn’t help when he smiles at you like that.

His glinting green eyes soon dim, however, as he takes in the sheer amount of red marking up the pages of his essay. All 10 pages.

“Damn, woman. Was it that bad?” he asks.

“You’re actually getting better,” you say with a smile. “I’m seeing signs of improvement.”

Jason continues to flip through with a frown. “Right.”

Though when he actually starts reading your revisions, the familiar slopes of your handwriting, his disappointment begins to relent. You’ve made corrections here and there, but you’ve also written a lot of encouragements in the margins, like, “Good use of the word ‘solidarity.’”

And, “This whole paragraph perfectly explains your point. Just add a transition into the next section and you’re golden.”

Not to mention his personal favorite: correcting his typo on eggzagerate, and drawing a doodle of a fried egg above it. He doesn’t think you do that for all your customers. 

It makes him smile.

Though he looks up when he hears you yawn. You try to stifle it, but he can see clearly now that you’re tired. It’s almost 9 p.m.

“How long have you been working?” he asks.

“Since I got out of my last class at 5,” you admit. Finally, you spot your coworker coming back from her break (and she’s still on the phone, chatting away to her boyfriend).

“Have you even eaten dinner?” Jason asks.

You shake your head, with a pointed glare at your coworker. “No time. I’ve been chained to this place all night.”

The girl gives you a fake smile when she returns to her desk and grabs one of the thinnest essays from the pile. After shooting her one last narrowed look, you give Jason your full attention. He’s trying to temper his smirk.

“Come on,” he says, nudging your arm. “Let me treat you to the Central Kansas delicacy of Chicken Finger Friday.”

You laugh at that; the university food court leaves much to be desired. You still have plenty of work to do, but you’re willing to push it off until tomorrow and take him up on his offer, if it means a hot meal and spending some time with your friend. It’s been a few weeks since it’s been just the two of you, hanging out.

After grabbing your backpack and clocking out for the night, you and Jason walk together across campus. The evening air is warm. It begins to defrost you as you two venture down the sidewalk. You smile to yourself and playfully bump into his side.

Jason shoots you a grin and bumps you back, though he grabs your arm when the heel of your boot catches on the edge of the sidewalk. You both fumble a bit and laugh.

You tuck a wily strand of hair behind your ear. Part of you wants to ask what he’s doing this weekend. Maybe he’d want to go to the lake with you, hang out on the dock, or go for a swim…

But of course, that’s when his phone buzzes. He fishes it out of his pocket and his brows raise. The text is from Lana, asking him if he can come to the Talon.

I really need your help with something.

Jason lets out a breath and looks up at you apologetically.

You know that look.

“Your girlfriend?” you ask, trying not to sound too disappointed.

Jason nods. “I hate to do this to you, but we’ve both been so busy, I haven’t seen her all week.”

And this is the first time this week that Lana has reached out to him first, wanting to see him… Well, she’s also asking for a favor, but she wants to see him.

“You know, one of these days I’d love to meet this mysterious girl,” you remark, lightly shoving his arm.

Jason smiles, but inside he’s clamming up. For obvious reasons, he hasn’t told you that he’s dating Lana Lang. Though it doesn’t make it easy to keep it from you, to lie to you. Over the course of the school year, you’ve become one of his closest friends here in Smallville.

You encourage him to explore his interests and keep focused in school, and you’ve often been a listening ear whenever juggling his classes and helping to coach the Smallville High football team stress him out.

And he’s done the same for you. With your time split between being a teacher's aid at Smallville High and working in the Writing Center to make ends meet between classes, you've done your share of venting, sometimes through frustrated tears. Jason's been more than willing to provide a strong shoulder to lean on.

Now, you don’t know that dating Lana is part of his stress, but he just…can’t afford to tell you.

It doesn’t matter that Lana’s 18, and he met her months before he took this coaching job. This is a small town, and he knows how people will talk if word gets out that he’s dating a high school senior. Not to mention, he’d get very fired.

“I’m sorry,” he says to you. “This seems important.”

Again, you have to hide your disappointment when you smile at him. “It’s okay. I should probably get back to work anyway—”

“Uh-uh. No,” Jason says, grabbing your arm when you start to turn in the direction of the Writing Center. "You’re done for the night. I wanna see you marching full-speed for those dry-ass chicken tenders.”

He nods toward the campus food court, making you expel a sigh.

“If I must,” you lament.

“And you’d better not keep working on your laptop,” he warns. “If you so much as crack open that Mac, I’ll know.”

He levels a finger at you as he walks away. You roll your eyes and head to the food court, with the promise of food just beyond the glass doors. 

After a moment, you chance looking back at Jason. He catches your gaze, and he points two fingers from his eyes to your face in stern warning. 

You giggle and shake your head at him, but you keep walking toward the food court. 

Jason smirks in satisfaction. He continues on to the parking lot, and to his car.

When Jason gets to the Talon, he crosses paths with Clark, who’s just walking out. 

“Hey, man,” Jason greets, with a jovial pat on the younger man’s shoulder. Though he can’t help but wonder why the guy is here at this time of night. “Little late for a coffee fix, huh?”

“Hey, Coach T,” Clark smiles. “Could say the same about you.”

Jason blinks at that. He cards a hand through his short hair and laughs it off. “Yeah, I was in the mood for a slice of your mom’s coffee cake. Any left?”

Martha Kent supplied the Talon with its baked goods, and they were most certainly worth driving across town for. It’s a pretty good excuse, if he says so himself.

Clark nods. “Yeah, should be.”

“All right. G'night,” Jason says. Clark nods and waves goodbye before he heads to his red truck in the parking lot. 

Jason shakes his head and steps into the coffee shop, where he finds Lana alone. She’s cleaning up a large takeout bag from Gino’s, the Italian restaurant across the street. He silently takes note of it, but doesn’t yet comment when he kisses his girlfriend in greeting.

“Why’d you send up the Bat Signal on this fine Friday night?” he asks, wrapping her in his arms.

Lana smiles up at him. “Well, I’m probably going to be slammed all weekend with the shop, but I’ve got this huge speech for class on Monday and was hoping you’d help me practice.”

She pulls those doe-like hazel eyes on him, and Jason’s almost captured by them. This time, he lets out a small sigh.

“You know I’m always down to help you out. Always. But you know, we haven’t just hung out in a while now,” he points out.

Lana concedes to that with an incline of her head, but she still eases out of his arms to finish cleaning up.

“Yeah, I’ve just been really busy,” she says.

“I have too,” Jason replies. “But even with my crazy schedule, going back and forth from campus, don't I still make time for you?”

Case in point, he was willing to come out to her on the drop of a hat, late at night, and on the crunch week before his final exams. But he would be hard-pressed to remember a time when Lana went out of her way to see him.

Lana pauses, casting him a frown. "I'm trying my best, Jason. You know I'm graduating in a few weeks. Everything's ramped up to 11 this year."

Yeah, I know the feeling, Jason thinks, but after a moment, he caves with a nod, even though his gaze lingers on the Gino's bag.

“Have you eaten?” he tests. “Let me get us some takeout.”

He almost said, Let me take you out, somewhere nice. But he hadn’t been able to do that since before he got to Smallville. He’s beginning to wonder if he ever will again.

“Oh,” Lana says. Her eyes avert from his as she wipes down a table. “I already ate.”

Jason draws closer to her and dips his chin in order to catch her gaze. Eventually, she pauses and glances up at him.

“With Clark?” he asks.

Lana tightens up, just as he predicted. “Why would you say that?”

“I saw him when I came in,” Jason replies. He tilts his head at Lana, who never used to be a good liar. But ever since they had to start hiding their relationship, he’s noticed how good she also hides her thoughts and feelings around other people…maybe even to herself.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “He was here. But we were studying for finals, and we got hungry. That’s it.”

Jason shakes his head, but she grabs his hand with both of hers. He looks down at her tan, slender hands, and can’t help but be drawn back to her beautiful face.

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, as if that can dismiss the churning in his gut.

“Listen,” he says, rubbing at his face. “I know I’ve asked you this before, and I’m sorry but…do you still have feelings for him?”

“No,” she refutes, “I’m with you, Jason. How many times do I have to prove that this is what I want?”

She seems so annoyed and vehement that Jason has to believe her. He wants to, so badly.

Maybe too much.

The last straw comes just two weeks before the end of spring semester—with the coming of senior prom. Jason knows he can’t ask Lana, but she assured him that she wasn’t going. 

He has a late class that night, but afterwards, he promised to pick her up and get dinner together in Metropolis. A nice date, a long-ass way out of town, so they’re unlikely to be recognized.

On the Friday evening, just hours before a high school dance, you and Jason sit together in the one class you have together: Introduction to Mass Media. 

It only meets once a week, for three hours. Technically it’s an elective for both of you, but you’d told Jason to pick any class outside of his major that he was interested in. Anything to broaden his horizons, and you promised to join him. For some reason, he chose this one. 

He thought it would be easy. Just a study of pop. culture stuff, with a mix of social media, maybe a dash of sports, if he was lucky. He’d actually been surprised with how much he was enjoying the segments on videography and broadcast journalism. 

Right now, however, he's distracted. You can certainly tell, the way he keeps checking his phone.

“What’s wrong?” you lean over and ask in a whisper. He knows how anal Professor Jones is about cell phones in class. The man had a “contraband bucket” to collect them in, if he caught a student using one.

“Just letting my girlfriend know I’m gonna be a bit late,” Jason grumbles, though he’s looking at the screen. “Jones is droning on past the eternity mark, as usual.”

A man clears his throat above you and Jason. You both look up and meet the flat gaze of Professor Jones. He shakes the bucket in his hand with an arched brow. Already there's about three contraband phones inside.

Jason gives a wan smile. “Come on, Professor. We were supposed to be outta here 20 minutes ago anyway.”

The lines in Professor Jones’s face betrays one simple truth: he doesn’t give a shit.

“Bucket, Mr. Teague,” he says.

Jason’s lips press in irritation, but he’s forced to drop his phone into the waiting bucket. He doesn’t see two mixed text messages from his girlfriend.

You lay a comforting hand on Jason’s arm. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”

By the time Jason gets to the Talon, the lights are dark and Lana’s not home. Suspicion creeps in, making him feel a little crazy. 

He decides to get back into his car and drive down to Smallville High. There the gym is decked out to the nines in some kind of underwater theme. It reminds him of his own senior prom a couple of years ago, complete with the punch bowl and cheesy snacks. 

But soon enough, the nostalgia comes to a screeching halt.

A familiar ballad croons from the band on the stage.

"And how can I stand here with you, and not be moved by you? ...Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?"

He sees Lana on the dance floor, wearing one of the most beautiful dresses he’s ever seen. And she’s in the arms of one Clark Kent. 

Jason's never hated Lifehouse so much.

On Saturday morning, before the Talon even opens, Lana opens the door to Jason while still wearing her robe.

“Hey!” she says, with wide eyes, though she lets him in.

“You seem real surprised,” Jason notes.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s early for you on a Saturday,” Lana remarks with a short laugh. But she still leans up to kiss him. She only manages to get his cheek, since he doesn’t bend down to meet her like he usually would.

She frowns. “Is something wrong?”

Jason doesn’t answer at first. The words are stuck in his throat. He gestures for them to move away from the glass doors, where anyone can peek in. So they travel up to her bedroom and close the door.

It’s not the first time he’s been in her room, though not much has ever happened on her bed. He’s waited completely on her signals for that one. Though now, he’s actually kind of grateful that their relationship has never progressed that far. It makes what he’s about to do easier.

“Where were you last night?” he asks. He figures they’d better start there.

“I tried calling you,” he adds, when Lana doesn’t immediately offer a reply.

“Well, I didn’t hear from you. I figured you were busy with your classes, so…I went to prom by myself,” she says.

Jason sighs. “You didn’t seem all that lonely.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

Her confusion looks so real. A perfect face, and a damn near perfect lie.

“Look, I saw you and Clark on that dance floor,” Jason finally says. “Wasn't that just the perfect Hallmark moment?”

“Jason…” Lana finally starts to break. She doesn’t want to admit what’s broken, her gaze falling to the floor.

“No, let me say this,” he says. “Lana, I really put my all into this. I did whatever I could to be with you. To love you, to protect you. But in your heart, I think somewhere down the line you decided you don’t want that to be me.”

Lana’s eyes flood with tears, but she doesn’t deny it. 

“I think it’s time to really call it quits this time,” Jason says, “for both our sakes.”

He can’t help but reach out to her. His thumb brushes her cheek. Lana’s watery gaze meets his as her lower lip wobbles. She grabs his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” she confesses.

He won’t say it’s okay, but he accepts that with a nod, and he kisses her cheek. 

It’s a goodbye that’s meant to last.

Once he’s back in the relative safety of his car, Jason lets out a deep breath. He grabs his phone from his pocket on some unspoken urge; in that moment, he needs something. Someone.

He needs you.

You answer on the third ring, sounding sleepy on your day off.

“You’d better be on fire,” you say. Jason smiles at the sound of your grumpy voice.

“Hey,” he laughs a little, though he's surprised that it comes so easily. “You doing anything right now?”

“Besides sleeping?” you toss back. “…No. Not really. My life is boring.”

“Boring sounds nice right about now,” Jason says, more seriously than he meant to. “Wanna take a drive or something?”

You hesitate, just for a moment. Then your voice greets him again.

“Let’s go.”

When Jason arrives at your house, you come out to meet him. He gets out of his car, and already he looks wrong. He looks drained of all energy.

“What’s wrong?” you ask in concern, grabbing his arm when you’re close enough. His eyes find yours.

“We broke up,” he says.

It takes your brain a second or two to compute. (You’ve just finished your first cup of coffee, after all.) But then, you’re moving to wrap your arms around his neck in the tightest, warmest hug you can give.

He holds you back for a while, and you relish in the feeling of his hands smoothing around your back and pulling you in close. His chin tucks on your shoulder, and you rub his back.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

He hums in response. Sometimes, what is just is.

He lets you drive him out to the lake near your house, in your beat up Volvo. This lake is your favorite place in the world, you tell him, as you two sit side-by-side on the dock. Your sneaker-clad feet dangle over the edge, next to his longer legs.

“So far,” he corrects. “There’s a whole lot of world out there.”

You smile. “Yeah, you gonna show me? Got a magic carpet tucked in your dorm somewhere?”

Jason laughs, and you’re grateful to see his smile so soon.

“Yeah, along with a dusty-ass lamp,” he says.

You smile, but you tilt your head at him. “Are you okay?”

Jason’s grin slips a little. “Yeah, I think so…is that bad?”

You bite your lip. “Depends. What was her name? I don’t think you even told me.”

Jason turns to you, and he sighs deeply. It takes him a moment, but he eventually answers while looking you in the eyes.

“Lana Lang,” he says.

The name rings a bell…and as it comes to you, it blares like a foghorn. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open in shock.

“J-Jason…she’s a student,” you stammer. “Not like, us students. Like—”

“I know. We met before I got the coaching job,” Jason explains quickly, before you can blow up at him. 

He can see you’re freaking out, trying to contain your reaction with a hand over your mouth. But the more he explains, the more you withdraw into a simmering silence. He can tell, however, that you don’t know how to feel about it. 

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

It’s not the first thing he thought you would say, but it’s very you all the same.

“Well, being outmaneuvered by my own quarterback stings like a bitch, but I still think I’m better looking,” Jason jokes. Because that’s what he does when he’s uncomfortable.

Too bad that was the wrong answer.

You roll your eyes with a disgusted huff, and you pull yourself up onto your feet. You start to leave him there at the dock, but Jason hops up as well and grabs your hand.

“Hey, wait,” he implores. “Look, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was just…easier.”

“Why, because you didn’t trust me?” you challenge. “Or because you felt guilty about what you were doing?”

The truth is, Jason doesn’t feel guilty. Not for his relationship.

“I was trying to protect her reputation,” he says. “I know how smalltown people think. She’d be the talk of the damn town. And for what? Because we’re two years apart?”

“And I’m smalltown, is that it? I’m sorry I’m not as evolved as you, Mr. Metropolis,” you snark. “Forgive me for being a lowly country bumpkin with some morals.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jason says with an angry frown, throwing up his hands in frustration.

You shake your head at him and start booking it towards your car.

Jason follows. “You know you can’t leave me out here, right?”

“Just get in the car, before I change my mind!”

He obliges you, and it’s a painful ride back to your house. He really can’t believe you’re being like this. It’s the first real argument he’s ever had with you. He knew you might get upset, but he did think you’d be a little more understanding…

“Look, we met in Paris last summer,” he admits. And a hint more vulnerable, “I just…couldn’t help but fall for her.”

“I get it, Jason,” you reply. Your voice is flat. 

“Just please don’t tell anyone,” he asks. “We’re done. She’s about to graduate.”

As mad as you are at him for lying to you, you begrudgingly see his point. You can also start to understand why he didn’t tell you. 

But, regardless of how you feel, you don’t want him to lose his job. You know it’s the only way he can afford college.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” you say, before you can reign yourself in.

Jason turns to you with a hint of a smile. “Thank you.”

It’s still awkward when you two get to your house. He turns to you, like he wants to say something that’ll most likely soften you. 

You’re not ready for that. 

So you kill the engine and get out of the car without looking at him. Jason takes the hint; he doesn’t say another word to you when he gets into his car and peels away.

The next weeks that follow are hard for Jason. As a member of the staff, he’s forced to go to Smallville High’s graduating ceremony.

He watches Clark and Lana graduate together with the rest of their friends. The two of them hug after she gets off stage, looking at one another with a moment of blushing smiles. It’s an inevitable look.

It makes Jason feel sick. He leaves as soon as he can, going back to languish in his dorm room. He lays on his bed over the covers with his hands folded over his stomach and his eyes closed.

He thinks about you. 

He can see you in his mind’s eye, with a pen balanced between your teeth and your hair falling over to brush the pages you pour over.

He sees your fuzzy green sweater. Your smile. The shade of your hair, your eyes, your laugh, your furrowed look when you’re concentrating hard on revising a sentence.

The more he sees, the more he wants to call you. To hear your voice, even if you're just going to yell at him. 

Jason sighs. He sits up in bed and has a thought that soon takes hold of his body, and has him swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and pulling his backpack closer.

He pulls out a folder for one of his classes and finds an essay you revised. His eyes scan over the encouragements you’ve left in the margins, along with the stray doodles. They still make him smile.

And it reminds him of the first note you ever gave him, which he keeps tucked in a small drawer in his desk. He tosses the folder onto his bed and goes to that drawer, where he finds your hastily written haiku.

Assistant Hottie

You flatter me, see through me

Smarter than he thinks.

You don’t know that those words have kept his head above water in times where he’s wanted to quit school.

Or even worse, in those times when he’s wanted to go to his father, tail between his legs, to ask for money and a job doing anything easy.

So now, Jason realizes that he needs to make another decision.

He gets out of bed, and he goes to see you.

Jason travels down to the basement of the CKM library, to the Writing Center, where you’re sitting at your desk as always on a Thursday night. You have a pile of essays stacked high next to you, and your forehead is wrinkled while you read a problematic passage.

The smell of coffee makes you look up first, before you realize who brought it. Your eyes widen at seeing Jason, along with his small smile and peace offering.

“Hey,” he says.

His voice washes over you, his eyes that always manage to disarm you, even now.

Despite your better judgment, you take the coffee from him and revel at its warmth. It has to be 60 degrees in this damn room (you’re one step shy of bringing your winter gloves next time).

You sip at the coffee and hum in delight at the taste of caramel and cinnamon—a combination that only your family, and Jason, would know you loved.

Your gaze flits up to his, more begrudging as you sigh.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Teague?” you ask.

Jason grins and takes your coworker’s empty chair to sit across from you.

“I’ve got a little haiku for you,” he says, handing you a folded piece of paper. You eye him in confusion, but you set down the coffee on your desk and take his second offering. You unfold it and read something that genuinely takes you by surprise.

Hey, Miss Professor

I’ve got a question for you…

Want to get dinner?

You can’t help but laugh. It’s most definitely not a haiku, but you also know that it’s his best shot. His smile is sheepish, making yours deepen. 

“So, what’s your answer?” he asks. 

You glance down at the page, then back at him. You bite your lip, and your heart clenches. Is this it? you wonder. Is he asking you out, for real? You can’t quite tell what he’s thinking. 

“What kind of dinner?” you ask.

Jason’s grin fades. “What do you mean?”

“Is this our normal kind, where we roll out like we’re Thelma and Louise?” you ask, making him snort. “Or is this the kind where I need to change out of my dirty sneakers and brush my hair?”

He shrugs; his amused grin is back. “I mean, however I get you is all right by me.”

You nearly utter another sigh, but Jason surprises you yet again—by grabbing your hand. 

“But, uh…I’d like this to be the kind of dinner where we try something new,” he says, licking his dry lips. He looks a bit uncertain, you think, hiding the fear of rejection. “Maybe you’ll let me do my Cary Grant impression and get you some flowers. Box of chocolates.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Chocolates?”

“Whatever it takes,” he says. His tone is joking, but he seems serious. You know him well enough by now to spot the difference.

“Whatever it takes, huh?” you ask.

Jason’s hand tightens on yours, but his eyes never leave you. He really is serious, and it makes your heart stutter and trill with warmth. It feels a lot like hope.

He leans in, his head bowing towards yours…but you lay a hand against his chest.

It stops him, until your fingers curl into his shirt.

Your gaze slowly meets his.

When he reaches for your cheek, this time you let him pull you in. 

His kiss is sudden, but it’s still a gentle test. You take in a deep breath through your nose as your eyes fall closed. You press your lips against his, answering him. His fingers slide into your hair and drag down the back of your neck. It makes you shudder and tug him even closer by his shirt. 

Jason’s solution is gathering you into his lap, where you take his face with both hands and kiss him with unfettered passion. The locked doors of your heart are swinging open, and it’s a sweet relief to be honest with each swipe of your tongue against his. 

He’s gripping your hip, his fingers pressing into your thigh, while the other hand supports your lower back and presses you flush against him. As the kiss slows, so does your hand in his hair, more soothing now than gripping. 

When your lips eventually draw apart from his, it’s with panting breaths. You stare into his eyes, as yours brim with relieved tears. You touch his cheek.

“I better not be a rebound,” you warn him. “I can’t take that, Jase.”

Jason shakes his head, holding you a fraction tighter. “No, believe me. That's the last thing you are."

You bite your lip, and he encourages you to release it with his thumb brushing across your lower lip. You've been on his mind longer than he can readily admit. Since the first day he met you.

"I know I haven't made it easy, but will you trust me on this?” he asks. "I really wanna do this right with you."

It takes you a moment to decide, but you do. You trust him.

So you nod and brush your fingers along the apple of his cheek. 

“Okay,” you concede. "Let's do this."

Jason grins. “Oh, thank God.”

You giggle softly and hide your face in his neck. His chest shakes with a chuckle as he holds you back. It feels very right to hold you, he thinks.

Just as it's a relief for you to finally be in his arms.

“Where d’you wanna go for dinner?” he asks.

You laugh, a bit giddy as you cling to him and thread your fingers in his golden hair.  

“I don’t give a damn.”

AN: Haha, I hope you liked this! ❤️ These one-shots are kind of AU, in that I don't get into the Stones of Power arc of S4 just for simplicity's sake.

I do have one more one-shot idea rolling around in my head for these two...the reader meeting Jason's infamous mother lol (Genevieve Teague, played by the fabulous Jane Seymour)!

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