#like a LOT of angst

[moonysmates]

Looking for a soul crushing Dorlene canon compliant one shot to cry to this Halloween? Extra flavours of murdery Dorcas, Dorlene anniversary, and wrong place wrong time? Look no further!

Marls gets killed at her parents' house, Dorcas goes on a little ramage, everyone dies, yadda yadda yadda, read it if you want to know the rest (it's only 3.5k, it won't take long).

Have fun! xxx

[littlefirefly42]

Love, Maxie

Pairing: Elmax (El x Max)

Summary: When Max's letters stop coming, El realizes she's lost the only person she's ever truly loved

Warnings: Mental Breakdown; Self harm; Su!cide (not graphic); vomiting (not ED related); Hurt no comfort

A/N: I am aware of the irony of finishing a 2000+ word oneshot for myself in less than a week and still not having finished some of y'all's requests. I'm sorry. My only excuse is that I was sad and I needed an outlet. I hope that you enjoy this while you wait I suppose.

~~~

Seven months. That’s how long it had been since Jane Hopper had seen her girlfriend. Trapped in California with not a fraction of a chance that Joyce would let her go back to visit Hawkins, she had been extremely excited when Max had visited the previous June. They had splurged on comics and ice cream, cuddling in El’s bed and reading together. Late at night, they had snuck out the window and onto the roof (with the assistance of El’s powers in Max’s case), and they stared up at the moon and the stars. A strawberry moon, Max had commented once, and El loved her more than she’s ever loved anyone. Now El was sitting alone on the roof, in the same spot, rereading the last letter Max had sent. The date at the top said September 13th, but El had gotten it on November 6th, nearly two months later. 

El,

Hey! I miss you so much! I’m glad you’ve been doing well. How did you do on that summer experience essay? I’m sure it was amazing, the draft you sent me was really good. I’m still not in school, but I’m going back in a few days. I’m not really that nervous, but I miss you so much, and I don’t exactly have a crowd of people lined up to be friends with me. Well, I have Lucas. He’s mostly over the breakup and we’ve hung out a few times this summer, so I think we’re cool now. Mike still hates me though, and Dustin just pretends I don’t exist. Steve makes them all play nice because he’s basically my mom at this point, but to be honest I don’t really hang out with any of them very often anymore. Speaking of moms, I think I might tell mine about us, if it’s okay with you. She didn’t seem too shocked when she saw Steve and Eddie together, so maybe she’d be cool? I’m starting to lose sight in my left eye again, so I’ll have another surgery in a few weeks, but apparently it’s a pretty easy one and I’ll just be in and out. Maybe I’ll tell her right before I go under and see what she says after. Also, I’ve been learning how to do wheelies in my wheelchair, I can’t wait to show you the next time I visit. Write back when you can, and tell Joyce and your brothers I said hi!

Love, Maxie

Maxie. It was the nickname El gave Max after they started dating. Less formal than Maxine, more personal than Max, more affectionate than Mad Max. Seeing it scribbled on the worn paper in her girlfriend’s scrawly, messy, beautiful handwriting made El want to sob. She hadn’t heard from Max since she received this letter. She had written back, some giddy lovesick shit about how excited she was and how much she missed her girlfriend, but there was never a reply. She thought it may have gotten lost in the mail, but three letters and two months later it finally sank in: Max wasn’t writing back. Max wasn’t coming to visit. Max didn’t care.

It was a thought El had been stewing in for the past week and a half, and it was breaking her ribs one by one. Sure, she had missed Max before then. There were nights even before the letters stopped coming that she had felt so incredibly lonely without her fiery, sharp-witted girlfriend that she cried for hours and could still taste the sorrow in the back of her throat the next morning. After November 6th, she felt a twinge of loneliness and disappointment whenever she would sort through the mail and hand Will his letter from Mike. She felt hollow waiting like that. 

But none of it compared to how she felt now, days after she realized that Max wasn’t busy, and her letter had not been lost in the mail. El just wasn’t worth her time anymore.

That hurt. So goddamn much. The setting sun was clouded over, fracturing and distributing the soft light over the horizon, and a few heavy rain drops fell onto the roof. El refolded the letter along its worn, taped creases. She crawled to the edge of the roof and slipped down into her bedroom window, being careful not to land too loudly. She placed the letter along with the others she had from Max.

“Kids! Dinner!” Joyce yelled from downstairs. Good timing too, because El didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts anymore. But as she was opening her door, something stopped her. 

“Coming mom!” Jonathan yelled back. El closed her door and locked it. She didn’t know why, but she felt different. Detached. Her hands shook as she walked back to her desk and picked up the letter.

It made a beautifully violent sound as she tore it. El’s heart pounded, and she grabbed another letter, tearing that one too. Adrenaline seized the girl, grabbing letter after letter and ripping them apart. It was raining harder now, but she didn’t close her window. She couldn’t care less about anything anymore. 

“El, come down here!” She heard Joyce call, but the voice hardly registered. She kept tearing apart letters, and when she finished she went to her book shelf and pulled out all her comic books, throwing them on the floor. Several additions of Wonder Woman, Supergirl, Elektra, and dozens more that Max had introduced her too. El fell to the ground and tore those up too, tears beginning to spill down her cheeks. There was a knock at her door, but she was beyond too far gone to hear it. There was nothing outside this room. Nothing but her and the essence of Max in everything.

Max, huddled in the sheets that El threw off her bed.

Max, commenting on the movie and band posters El tore down.

Max, smirking at the flannel that, when El failed to rip with her bare hands, used her powers.

Max, braiding the soft brown hair that El weeded out from its roots.

Max, tracing the veins on the pale wrist that El scratched until it was red and raw, as if she could scrape away the feeling of being loved by someone and then suddenly and inexplicably being abandoned. 

Max, who abandoned her.

Things were breaking themselves now, shelves collapsing and lamps shattering, a reflection of the carnage in El’s mind. Someone was pounding on the door. Someone else was yelling. But El was unreachable, buried beneath layers of anger and betrayal, everything else was muffled and far away.

Thunder growled lowly outside the open window, and El found herself crawling beneath it. The cold water puddled on the floor shocked her nerves and unearthed a sorrow beneath the fury that El had been ignoring for a long time. She held herself, fingernails digging into her biceps, rain showering down on her, and drowned in the agony that was losing the one person you trusted to never leave. She may have screamed, but she didn’t hear herself. When Jonathan broke the door down with a crowbar, she didn’t flinch.

~~~

The next day, El still refused to speak. Still refused to talk about what happened, despite the best efforts of her family. Joyce had insisted she stay home from school, so she sat at the dining room table and stared through her lunch. Who knew pb&j could be so goddamn patronizing.

 She heard the motor of a truck pulling into the driveway, but she didn’t pay it any mind until Joyce shouted something from her office. Reluctantly, she pulled herself away from one dimly lit room down the hallway to another, leaning silently on the doorway of Joyce’s office.

Joyce was holding a phone with one hand and scribbling aggressively in a notepad with the other, but she shifted the phone to her shoulder when she saw El.

“Honey, would you get the mail please?” She stage-whispered. “I’m waiting on a package and I think it just got delivered.”

El nodded. When she opened the front door there was nothing on the doormat, so she walked down the driveway to the mailbox. It was a cloudless day, and the blinding sun after the previous night’s storm made the air muggy and humid. There were several letters in the mailbox, as well as a newspaper and a folded yellow paper package. She pulled everything out and brought it back inside, tossing the letters and paper carelessly onto the kitchen counter and taking the package to Joyce. 

“Thanks El.” She said, then added “No bills or anything?”

El responded with a simple shrug and walked away before Joyce could add anything more to the skeleton of a conversation. When she returned to the kitchen she began sifting through the letters for anything important, needing something to occupy herself with, to save her from her thoughts. She found nothing notable, two bills, a check, some ads, and- El paused. A stuffed brown envelope from Hawkins, Indiana. At first she dismissed it, with a twinge of heartache, as another letter for Will; But the return address caught her eye. It was Max’s. Suddenly, the walls of the house felt very claustrophobic. El’s heartbeat quickened and dread rooted itself deep in her chest as she slid to the ground. Slowly, with sweaty, shaking hands, she tore the seal and pulled out the first of three papers. It was written on flowery stationary, a cruel beauty to accent the pure repulsiveness of its content.

Dear Ms. Byers,

I hope you and your family are doing well. I heard that Jonathon got his acceptance letter, send him my congrats. I am writing to share some rather distressing information with you. You must excuse the tardiness of this letter, I have been grieving and could not bring myself to write it. However, I feel that it is my moral duty, and my duty as a mother, to inform you that your daughter, Jane, is a homosexual.

El felt her chest tighten. Joyce had known about her and Max for months and didn’t seem to have an issue with the relationship, but from the tone of the letter it was obvious Ms. Mayfield didn’t feel the same. She took a deep breath, letting the fact sink in, before continuing to read.

I’m ashamed to admit that I have known for quite awhile, and only now have I had the strength to tell you. You may remember my daughter, Maxine, who came to visit you in the summer. Maxine was sick as well, and I recommend you immediately seek therapy for Jane. The two were involved in a romantic relationship, the likes of which drove my daughter to suicide several months ago.

Something stopped inside of El. She reread the last sentence three more times, looked away, blinked, and then read it again. But no matter how much she wanted to pretend she was hallucinating, the word was still there and glaring. Suicide.

I know this kind of thing is hard to hear, and you may want to deny it, but from one mother to another I think the best thing for Jane is to accept it and get her professional help. I have photocopied Max’s suicide note and enclosed it with this letter, so that you may understand the severity of the situation. Please address it immediately, before we lose another child.

My best regards to you,

Susan Mayfield

El finished reading the letter and tossed it aside numbly. She pulled out the second paper, an obituary with a picture of a grinning little kid in a yellow bathing suit, missing most of her teeth, ginger hair tangled and wet. El didn’t even bother reading it. She dropped it onto the letter from Max’s mom and pulled out the last paper. It was a slightly crooked photocopy of a lined piece of paper.

El,

I am so sorry. I know my mother will read this first, but I couldn’t care less. You should know I lied to you in my letters. I don’t speak or eat a lot anymore and I don’t leave my room most days. I miss you so much. I don’t have anyone anymore, and all the time I’m just alone with my shitty mind. After you left Hawkins the first time I thought I would be okay, and I was for a while. At least, I was better than I am now. Then you came back and I didn’t even care that the world was ending because I was with you again. And that day in the hospital, when you told me you loved me, I think it was the best moment of my life. I was so ready to give up El, but being with you saved me. When you went back to Cali I didn’t feel that same emptiness as the first time. I missed you so goddamn much, but with the letters and the visit in the summer I felt like I always had something to look forward to, and that something was always you. Nothing else, no one else. Just you. And then it all went to shit again. The guys stuck around a little after everything went down, but eventually they all kind of stopped talking to me. Steve still drives me places and scolds me for not taking my meds and all that, but we’re not really friends you know? Plus, I used to just get ignored at school, but the wheelchair has been an asshole magnet and it’s getting a little intolerable. Anyway, it doesn’t matter really. The point is I just kept feeling worse all the time. And I love you, and for a while that was enough, but eventually it just hurt more, feeling like a shell of myself until the next time I heard from you. I told my mom about us like I said I would, and she broke down and said I needed help and I couldn’t keep writing to you. She’s trying to get me sent to some clinic now, and I just can’t do it anymore. Without you, I’ve got no one. So I’m sorry, really really sorry, that I couldn’t be strong enough for you, because you sure as hell were for me and now I’m leaving you but if there’s a god he knows I don’t have a choice. I love you El, I hope you live the best goddamn life.

Love, Maxie

El’s hands shook as she placed the photocopy gently on top of the other papers. Her heart kept pounding faster and faster, and it made her chest ache. Everything was too large and too close, and yet there was a strange numbness to the overwhelming feeling, like a fight-or-flight response, a reflex. Her body was acting on its own, and her mind was somewhere else. Somewhere far, far away. She lifted herself from the ground, heart still pounding, and made her way dizzily up to her room, leaving the two letters and her girlfriend’s obituary on the kitchen floor. El's room was in the same chaotic disarray it was the previous night, and still she looked around and saw nothing but Max. Everything she had destroyed in her blind rage was Max. And Max was dead. And everything was gone. And El fell down to her knees and threw up, then cried on the hardwood floor for a long time.

[artificialqueens]

Masters of the Scene, Chapter 17 (Bitney Parent Trap AU) - Veronica

A/N: Thanks as always to the incredible @tumble4rpdr for her beta help and @artificiallita for the advice, cheerleading and encouragement and letting me yammer about it for hours.

Click here for prequels and previous chapters, or here if you’d rather read on AO3. 

Where we left off: Courtney and Bianca had just admitted that they still have feelings for each other, and kissed for the first time since before their divorce.  

This Chapter: Well. Um…you see…plans are a funny thing. So…don’t hate me okay? 

***

“I still can’t hear anything, can you?” 

“No…still nothing.” 

“That’s good though, right?”

“Probably, but-wait…I hear something-”

“What?” 

“Uhh…”

“What?!” 

“Shh…”

“...Is it yelling?”

“No, not yelling. But…I can’t tell…Umm…”

“Can you guess?”

“No, I’m not sure. Hopefully it’s them banging it out.” 

“Gross!”

“Uh, hello, what do you think the whole point of this was?”

“That doesn’t mean I want to think about it!”

“Fair enough. Come on, let’s go eat some more.”

*

Two hours ago, Bianca had been miserable. Driving back from New Jersey, jittery from too little sleep and too much caffeine, white knuckling her way through the endless traffic, dark sunglasses over her swollen eyes, feeling like an unlovable failure. 

And then…then, suddenly, everything had changed. She had Courtney clasped in her arms, finally, wrapping her into an embrace that she knew would probably be a lot more comfortable on the bed, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t willing to stop, to part from her long enough to move, so the floor would do just fine. 

She relished every moment of that first long-awaited kiss, savoring the sweetness of her lips, the heat of her mouth, the feverish hunger as they clung to each other. Courtney’s hands were in her hair, clutching fistsfuls of it, pulling at it in a way that made Bianca grow dizzy with desire, especially when she crawled into her lap. Bianca’s own hands were everywhere—fingers digging into her waist, sliding up her thighs, pulling down her blouse to suck wet kisses down her collarbone. 

It had been so long, she’d almost forgotten how fucking good it was between them, how electric and intense and needy. Or more accurately, she’d tried to force herself to forget. It was no use though, because Courtney was just as perfectly soft and warm as she’d always been. Every glorious memory came rushing back in full force, and then the visceral reality blew them all away. 

Courtney’s breath grew ragged, blunt fingernails raking down the back of Bianca’s neck. Bianca inhaled, finding her scent as utterly intoxicating as she remembered. She pushed her onto her back, the soft little moan that fell from her lips filling Bianca’s whole body with tingling sparks. 

Bianca gazed down at her face, trying to detect the tiny, nearly microscopic changes that had occurred over the years. What was more remarkable was how little she’d changed. She wasn’t lying the other night when she’d said that her own face had probably changed more. She brushed a thumb over Courtney’s flushed cheek, marveling at how beautiful she was. 

Courtney’s hips rocked up, ever so slightly, and Bianca smirked, pressing a thigh between her legs, watching her eyes darken with lust, chest rising and falling rapidly. She leaned forward to brush a kiss over Courtney’s lips, mouth trailing down her jaw. 

“B…” Courtney panted.

“Yeah?” 

“What does this mean…what do we do now?” she asked breathlessly, hands still clutching Bianca’s hair, back arching. 

“Well, I got several ideas…” Bianca murmured into her skin, nipping at her pulse point.  

Courtney let out an adorably girlish, airy giggle, head lolling to the side to give Bianca more access to her neck. After a few moments, she gave Bianca’s hair a sharp tug, which would normally have spurred her on, if not for the next words out of her mouth.

“Wait. B, I’m serious,” she said, and gave Bianca a slightly scolding pout, tugging harder. 

“Well…” Bianca paused, lifting her head and attempting to catch her breath, still hovering over Courtney’s body on her hands and knees. She looked into her eyes and said, ��I guess you cancel your flights again. Hope they’re refundable.”

“That’s today,“ Courtney said, moving her hands to Bianca’s shoulders. “I mean like, long term.” 

“So do I.”

Courtney’s mouth opened in surprise before asking, “You mean just pick up and move to New York?” 

“Why not?” Bianca countered, offering her most charming, dimpled grin.

“Well…” Courtney seemed at a complete loss for words, and Bianca couldn’t tell whether she thought it was the most amazing idea ever, or the absolute worst. “Don’t…don’t you think we should discuss that? I mean if we’re serious about making this work then-” 

Bianca sighed, finally accepting that her little fantasy of grand romantic reconciliation sex on the area rug wasn’t gonna be so easy. Courtney was going to make her work for it. She nodded, backing off so that Courtney could sit up. 

“Okay. Sure. Let’s…” she gave a resigned sigh, “...discuss it.” 

“Thanks for the favor,” Courtney said testily, adjusting her top and shifting away. 

Great. Bianca closed her eyes briefly, rubbing her forehead as she tried to regroup. One minute of bliss and she was already fucking up. This certainly wasn’t what she had in mind. 

“Court. It’s been 8 years. I’m sorry for being impatient but…fuck, look at you. Can you really blame me?” She reached forward and touched Courtney’s cheek softly. 

Courtney pressed her lips together, nodding, clearly holding back a smile. 

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I…I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to get so…” She took a deep breath through her nose. “I just think that we should figure some things out first, before we…get in too deep. No pun intended.” 

Bianca nodded, chuckling. “Okay. And you’re right. Of course. We should talk. Even if I’d rather put it off.” 

They exchanged tentative, almost shy smiles. 

“I just want to do things the right way,” Courtney said. “This is too important to just…wing it. You know?” 

“Yeah.” Bianca rose to her feet, offering Courtney a hand. “I do.”  

Courtney took her hand, allowing Bianca to pull her up. As the two of them stood, close together, looking into each other’s eyes, Bianca felt a rush of butterflies, the kind she hadn’t felt in years. Although she was reluctant to let go of Courtney’s hand, she gestured to the bed. 

“Should we…sit and talk, then?” 

“On the bed? The floor might be safer,” Courtney said, a wicked smirk playing on her lips. 

“Don’t trust me?” Bianca raised one eyebrow ever so slightly. 

“That’s not exactly how I would put it.” 

Bianca grinned, dimples deep in her cheeks as she crawled on the bed, settling against the pillows. She waited with bated breath to see how close Courtney would get. To her delight, she sat facing her, cross-legged, one of her thighs practically draped across Bianca’s leg. When she reached for Bianca’s hand, lacing their fingers together, Bianca thought her heart would burst with happiness. 

“So…” she began, squeezing Bianca’s fingers, a cute little grin tugging at her lips. 

“So…” Bianca squeezed back, unable to wipe the dumb as fuck smile off her own face. Yes, in her ideal world, they’d be making passionate love right now. But even just holding her hand, sitting together like this, knowing they wanted each other—even this was a thrill that made Bianca feel warm and safe and happier than she’d been in so long. She lifted their hands and pressed a kiss to Courtney’s fingers. 

“You kinda threw me with that whole…‘move to New York’ thing,” Courtney said softly, a thumb rubbing the back of her hand.

“Oh…” Bianca’s brow furrowed. She’d hoped that Courtney would be happy about that, would jump at the chance to finally bring their whole family together again. 

“No, just…” Courtney clutched her hand tighter, shaking her head a little. “It was just sudden, I wasn’t expecting it. Not in that moment, you know?” 

“Well…I thought that being here together would be like a fresh start for us. And isn’t that the whole point? To be a family again?” 

“Yeah,” Courtney smiled, and the sight of it eased the knot forming in Bianca’s stomach. “Of course. But a cross country move is a big deal.” 

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” Bianca admitted. 

“It just…it feels really quick. I mean, what if we tried…meeting halfway? Going back and forth for awhile?” Courtney mimed this by tugging gently on Bianca’s hand, moving their arms back and forth playfully. 

“Back and forth?” Bianca raised an eyebrow, going with the movement, but finally pulling her forward into her lap. “How would that even work?” 

Courtney giggled, letting Bianca wrap her into an embrace, leaning against her shoulder with a sigh. Bianca kissed her forehead, trying to show her, wordlessly, how important it was for them to be in the same damn place. 

“Well, I don’t know exactly, but a lot of people are bicoastal-”

Bianca rolled her eyes, cutting her off with a kiss. Was she getting ahead of herself? Was she more committed than Courtney? Yes, of course a cross-country move was a big deal, but it seemed strange to imagine doing anything halfway when their family was at stake.

“I don’t know, that sounds—fucking wishy washy-” She tickled Courtney’s ribcage, causing her to let out a squeal, “and, why not just make a real commitment? Plus, how am I supposed to run a business if I’m in LA half the time? I don’t-”

“Well, you said you’d be expanding,” Courtney said. She reached up a finger to poke teasingly at one of Bianca’s dimples. “Maybe there’s a way to-” 

“I have a hard enough time managing the designers when I’m in the same room as them, Court. I’m not gonna be able to do it from LA,” Bianca said. 

“Okay, I get it.” Courtney relaxed into her arms again with a contented sigh. Her eyes fell closed and Bianca began to run her fingers through her hair. “And look, I hear you, but I have a whole creative team to manage, too. Not to mention the Carlotta House. Those kids count on me-” 

“You can mail checks from here, angel,” Bianca murmured into her ear. 

Courtney opened one eye and peered up at her with a semi-cross look. “Is that what you think I’m talking about? A tax write-off?” 

“No, of course not.” Bianca kissed her forehead again. “But we’re trying to rebuild our family. So as lovely as those Carlotta House kids are, I’m way more concerned with you and me, and Danny and Adore. Isn’t that who we should be focused on right now?” 

Courtney was pensive for a few moments before nodding slowly, reaching up to touch Bianca’s cheek. “Yeah. I suppose you’re right.” 

“So…look, I honestly just don’t see how it makes sense to live in LA. Besides like, vacations and stuff, which, sure, yeah, we should spend some time there, when we can, but...for real life, we need to pick one place to live, right? And I mean, you’re an influencer. You can make videos and record podcasts anywhere-” 

“I know it may seem that way, and you probably haven’t followed my career all that closely, but it’s a little more complicated since the days of shooting makeup tutorials in front of a mirror in our bedroom.” Courtney grinned and wrapped her arms around Bianca’s neck, then continued earnestly, “My whole studio is in LA. And…okay, some of it can be done remotely, but the garden is a huge part of my content, and it took years to get it where it is today. I’ve probably lost about a third of my tomatoes this year just from being here while everyone’s on vacation.” 

“Sorry, are you saying that I should be the one to move because you don’t want to leave your plants?” Bianca asked, head cocked to the side. She was trying to be patient, but this discussion was beginning to get a little irritating. 

“No. That’s not what I’m saying,” Courtney said, slowly, her voice taking on a bit of that tone that she used in her instructional videos. “I’m just trying to get you to understand…”

Bianca bristled slightly at the word understand; she wasn’t sure how much she liked being instructed. She pursed her lips, trying not to react too visibly.

“-that it’s not as easy for me to pick up and move as you might think. I have a business to run, too. And besides that, just logistically, I think it makes more sense for us to spend some time as a family in LA. I mean, your apartment in New York is even smaller than this house, isn’t it?” Courtney asked, gesturing around them. 

“Yeah, so?” Bianca asked, jaw clenching, very much not liking the tone of voice she used to say ‘this house,’ as if it was some tiny shack, and not a beautiful Colonial Revival cottage, steps from the bay. If this house wasn’t good enough for her, the apartment certainly wouldn’t be up to her standards, nevermind that all four of them used to live in a one-bedroom shithole. “We can find a bigger apartment.” 

“Of course we can,” Courtney said, a hand caressing Bianca’s cheek in a gesture that just a few minutes ago, she would have found endearing and welcome. Now, she found it patronizing. “But the farmhouse is already plenty big enough for everyone. It’s all custom built-”

“I’m not really a farm-type person,” Bianca said flatly. She wasn’t in the mood to hear about Courtney’s stunning custom home and panoramic views. This was about practicality, and her job simply wasn’t mobile the way Courtney’s was. 

“Don’t you think you should see it before you say that?” Courtney teased, fluttering her lashes. “I think you’d love it, actually. I know you’d have to be in New York for some of the time, but when you’re in LA, it would be a pretty nice place to come home to. If you want studio space, we can set that up. Plus, the kids both have their own rooms. No one has to live in a closet.”

“Well excuse my poverty,” Bianca snapped, then recovered slightly with a shaky smile. Sure, the closet remark was a cheap shot, but Adore had been the one to bring it up, and it had probably stuck in Courtney’s mind. But, since she hadn’t actually seen it, it wasn’t really her fault for being concerned.

Courtney laughed, pressing a kiss to Bianca’s cheek, apparently oblivious to how genuinely upset she was getting. Good.This was Bianca’s chance to reel it in. She took a deep breath, wrapping her arm back around Courtney’s waist and relaxing backwards against the pillows once more. They could do this. They could have this discussion like a couple of adults. She took another breath, enjoying the warm sensation of Courtney’s head on her chest and lacing their fingers together. Everything was fine. More than fine. Everything was good. 

“My point is, it would be comfortable,” Courtney said, playing gently with her fingers. “It’s also close to Danny’s school, and they already said that Adore is welcome to attend, when we thought she’d be there for the spring, and they’re so good with making accommodations for different styles of learning. I’m in touch with their counseling team about her needs. So I’m sure it would be no trouble to enroll her this fall if we wanted to-” 

“Wait, sorry, how did we go from you not wanting to be in New York full time to Adore being in LA full time?” Bianca asked, spine stiffening. “When the fuck did we make that decision?”

“We didn’t. I’m just saying that it’s an option,” Courtney said, turning around to face her, a hand on her arm. “I know how busy you’ll be with Fashion Week, and they’re going into sixth grade, which can be a challenge, and I know Adore’s struggled with school before-” 

“Adore’s doing fine in school, did you not see her last report card?!” Bianca said, suddenly feeling a bit defensive. Sure, she’d had trouble learning to read, but she got extra help for her dyslexia, and now she finally had effective meds for her ADHD, so school was actually going better than ever. 

“No, I did, of course, but things are going to get harder this year, academically. So I thought maybe if we kept them together, they could help each other. And it would be a good compromise to-” 

“You call that a compromise?!” Bianca said with a dry laugh. “That isn’t a compromise, that’s you getting your way 100%. Both kids in LA at the Happy Friends Handholding Academy.” 

“It’s called Crossroads, and you know that,” Courtney said, smiling through gritted teeth. “I just thought that given the timing, it would be easier for you to be able to focus on work and let me take care of the kids, and then when Fashion Week’s over, we can revisit-” 

“Oh, so generous of you, thanks,” Bianca said, words laden with sarcasm, doing everything she could not to scream.  

“I was actually trying to be generous, believe it or not,” Courtney said. She let out a frustrated sigh, then continued, voice thick with emotion. “I thought it would help you-”

She stopped, swallowing, and the guilt that rose in Bianca’s chest fueled her growing panic.  

“How would that help me, exactly? To take both kids to California and leave me here alone?” Bianca demanded. She could feel that her tone was getting a little too strident, but she couldn’t help it. “I would never fucking do that to you, never, and you fucking know it!” 

Courtney’s eyes widened in alarm, the thought of what she was actually proposing apparently not dawning on her until that moment.

“I-I didn’t mean it that way, I’m sorry-” Courtney gulped, then took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry-”

Bianca closed her eyes. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so-” 

“No, I get it, I-” Courtney wrapped her arms around herself, trembling a little, eyes downcast, and Bianca immediately took her shoulders. 

She’d gone too far, the implication was too pointed, and she felt awful. That moment had been a reminder of how fragile this situation was, how quickly they could ruin things by breaking each other’s trust. She held onto Courtney’s shoulders, gently but firmly, until Courtney looked up tearily into her eyes. 

“Hey. Listen. It’s okay,” Bianca said, voice steady and calm now. “But the whole point is to rebuild our family. Together.”  

“I know.” Courtney leaned forward and rested their foreheads together. 

“And you’re right, September is a crazy fucking time. But that’s…that’s why I wanted you here. With me. All three of you.” 

“Okay, but…we do need to figure something out for the school year that’s starting in less than a week, right? Do you have any ideas? For Danny, I mean?” Courtney lifted her head slightly to look at Bianca, expectant. 

Frankly, Bianca wasn’t sure what the problem was, what they needed a ‘solution’ for. She shook her head, a bit confused. “What’s wrong with Adore’s school? It’s one of the best schools in the country-”

“Well, number one, it’s an all girl’s school-” Courtney began, holding up her finger, back in Instructor Mode. Fantastic. 

“They have a boy’s side-”

“And number two,” she continued, holding up a second finger, “we have no idea if they even have room for him or would let him in. New York private schools aren’t exactly known for their laid-back attitude toward admissions. Number three, even if they would, do you really think that’s the right environment for him? Honestly? A boy’s school with ties and blazers? Where he doesn’t know anyone?” 

Courtney lowered her fingers, folding her hands smugly, one eyebrow raised. Bianca couldn’t help thinking that this whole teacher vibe would be a lot less obnoxious if she was topless. 

“Well?” Courtney gave Bianca a condescending pat on the thigh, as if she’d already answered the way she was expected to. But Bianca wasn’t about to give her that satisfaction. 

“Honestly, I think he’d survive one semester, until we could find something you think is a better fit-” 

“No, I’m not doing that to him.” Courtney crossed her arms, unsatisfied with Bianca’s answer. So much for a discussion. “Not after what he’s been through. He was fucking miserable at his old school, and he’s doing so much better now, and I’m not just gonna rip him out of a place where he feels safe and take a chance that all of that anxiety will come back right when he’s finally doing well-”

“Courtney, Courtney…” Bianca held up a hand, trying to stop her from getting herself all riled up for no reason. “Nobody wants Danny to feel unsafe or anxious or anything like that, okay? Nobody. But like…do you think that maybe sometimes he has so much anxiety because…I dunno, you expect him to be anxious?”

“Excuse me?” Courtney asked, eyes narrowing.

“Well…he just…doesn’t seem all that anxious when he’s with me.” 

There was a long pause, after which Courtney spoke quietly, saying, “I dare you to say that again.” 

Shit. Fuck. 

“That wasn’t an attack on your parenting,” Bianca backtracked, holding up her hands innocently. 

“It sure as fuck sounded like it,” Courtney spat out. 

Her whole affect had changed: hackles up, chest rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths. Bianca reached forward, trying to soothe her, trying to turn this around, but Courtney sprang back, trying to put distance between them, determined to reject any comfort, determined to turn a simple slip of the tongue into a huge fucking deal. Bianca groaned in frustration. 

“It wasn’t!” she insisted. “God, you’re so fucking over-sensitive!” 

“I’m over-sensitive?” Courtney burst out, leaping off the bed to her feet, now ready to fucking fight. She began to pace around the room, shaking her head, then finally whirled around to face Bianca, eyes blazing and full of tears. But when she spoke, it was in a low voice, words dripping from her lips like venom, “Says the person who pretends to be a tough fucking bitch-” 

“I am a tough bitch-”

“Wrong! You’re actually a thin-skinned baby who needs constant validation, so much that you were willing to marry a woman half your age just for a photo op-”

“Are you kidding me?! Which one of us puts their whole lives on social media? Who cares more about photo ops here?! Who’s the one that needs attention, 24/7, from fucking strangers?!” Bianca demanded.

“Ironic, isn’t it? That you pretend to be above it all. ‘Oh, I don’t read the comments,’” Courtney mimicked mockingly, “What a fucking liar you are! You think I need constant attention? At least I don’t force everyone around me to tiptoe around, because god forbid something sets off my fucking temper-” 

“That is such a load of bullshit!” Bianca countered, racking her brain for something, anything she could say to counter-attack, buying a little time with, “Nobody fucking does that-”

“We all do. What do you think the kids were doing all fucking morning?” she growled.

“Oh yeah, you tiptoe around my fucking feelings?” Bianca challenged. “Is that what you call that fucking dig about your bigger house and nobody living in a closet?” 

“I knew you wouldn’t let that go!” Courtney shook her head, laughing bitterly. “You are still so fucking petty. That wasn’t a dig, it’s just facts. I do have a bigger house. A lot bigger, in fact. So what?! Why can’t you just put your ego aside for one second and-”

“My ego? I’m not the one bragging about my giant custom farmhouse. Tell me, what paid for all that?” Bianca spat out. “Showing your tits in all the men's magazines, or when you left that behind to become a literal whore for any brand who would sponsor you?"

Courtney narrowed her eyes, standing up a little straighter. “You should be thrilled that I have the successful career I do, since it’s the reason I can be flexible, and constantly adjust everything to your schedule, and your needs, and your last-minute changes-” 

“Oh I know, I make things so hard. The crucifix must be really heavy,” Bianca said, mouth turned down in a sympathetic pout.  

“I am just saying, it would be nice to hear a fucking thank you once in awhile-”

“Thank you! Thank you, Courtney! I don’t know what’s more delightful,” Bianca said, the sarcasm continuing unabated, “The moral superiority, or the passive aggressiveness.” 

“Really? I would think it’s the fact that you never have to be the one to compromise, ever, since it’s obviously something you’re not capable of.”

“That’s rich, coming from you!” Bianca laughed. It was ironic as hell, Courtney accusing her of not compromising, when all she’d been doing was trying to manipulate this entire discussion to get her way.  

“What is that supposed to mean?” Courtney asked.

“You don’t want to compromise either. You never intended to compromise, this entire time,” Bianca stated flatly. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, continuing in a falsely jovial tone. “You wanted everything your way. You wanted to discuss it to death, wear me down, and then just do what you wanted in the first place-” 

“What are you talking about-” 

“You don’t want to live here! And it’s not about my apartment, or the bedrooms, or the square footage! It’s about you. You want to stay in LA. Because god forbid you leave your perfect house or your perfect life or the perfect shrine you’ve built to your own narcissism.” 

Bianca stood up, taking a step toward her, the spark of anger igniting in her chest and soon turning into a full-on blaze. 

“Oh and of course, let’s not forget, the perfect Hippie Drumcircle School that poor little Danny must attend because he’s too fragile to survive in the big bad world of New York City, with our scary noises and our gluten and our blazers, nevermind the fact that he’s just fucking fine when he comes here. He’s fine. You play it so innocent, but I see the truth. You’re the one who doesn’t want to leave, so why don’t you just admit that instead of pretending that it’s all about him?” 

She was spitting fire by the end, practically foaming at the mouth, chest rising and falling with giant, heaving breaths. She wasn’t even sure what’d she’d said, only that she’d been filled with such rage that she could barely see. 

Courtney stared back at her, glassy-eyed, her expression like stone, tears rolling down her cheeks. After an uncomfortably long silence, she said, “You’re right about-” 

Her small, pathetic-sounding voice broke on the last word. Regret immediately began to set in, turning the fire in Bianca’s belly to ice. 

“I did want you to come to LA,” Courtney went on tearfully, “for the same reason you probably wanted us here. Because I’m proud of what I built there, and I wanted you to see it, because I thought…maybe you would be proud of me, too.”

Fucking hell. Bianca sighed heavily, taking a step forward, but Courtney backed away like a frightened bird, even as she continued to speak, in that broken little voice. 

“Also I…I’m not the one who left. I’m not the one who moved across the country. You did that. You took my daughter away from me-” 

Bianca cut her off with a tired sigh, saying, “We’ve been over this already-”

“I don’t care!” Courtney cried, stomping her foot like a petulant child. “Maybe I’m still fucking mad about it. Because you took her and I couldn’t say shit! I wanted to share custody, of both kids, and have them in the same city, in the same school, from the beginning, but when I raised the slightest, most benign objection to you moving three thousand miles away with our daughter, you sent me that letter with that fucking threat-” Courtney’s voice broke again. 

“What…what letter?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Courtney asked hoarsely. “If you play dumb right now, I swear I will lose my fucking mind-” 

“I’m not playing dumb, I really don’t…” She racked her brain, trying to think of the letter Courtney could be talking about. A threat, that she’d still be this upset about, this many years later… It had been a long time since she’d thought about that time in their lives. It had been acrimonious as hell, but it was ancient history. “I mean, it was so long ago, how would I remember one specific letter?” 

“Well, why don’t I help you?” Courtney said, then began to recite words that she’d clearly read dozens of times, if not hundreds, words ingrained in her memory, ones Bianca couldn’t dispute. “We’re certain that Ms. Jenek doesn’t want a custody battle, as it is unlikely to end in a positive outcome for her.”

A sick feeling crept into Bianca’s stomach, the hairs prickling up on the back of her neck. 

“That-that was true,” Bianca said, her own voice sounding small and foreign to her ears. “I didn’t want a custody battle either.” 

“That wasn't the point of that letter and you know it!” Courtney exclaimed, eyes now nearly black with rage, tears streaming down her cheeks. “The point of that letter was to tell me, to remind me, as if I could ever fucking forget, that you are their real mother, and that any family court judge would see it that way, and that if you wanted, if I fought you or pissed you off, you could get full custody of both kids. You could take Danny away from me anytime, just like you took Adore-” 

“I never asked for that! Stop acting like I’m some kind of fucking monster!” Bianca shouted back. This wasn’t fair, she wasn’t allowed to put eight years of angst on her like this, over something that never even happened. They never fought over custody of Danny, not once. And for that matter, they hadn’t fought over custody of Adore—Bianca never stopped Courtney from seeing her or calling her or having as much visitation as she wanted. “I never tried to keep Adore from you, and I never tried to take Danny, and I wouldn’t-” 

“It doesn’t matter that you didn’t, or even that you say you wouldn’t. You could. You always could! Do you know what that’s like, knowing that?” Courtney said, choking on another sob. 

Bianca stared at her, the twisting in her guts making her sick. After a few moments, she spoke up, her voice hoarse from shouting. “Courtney, I’m sorry, I am. Okay? But…but it was one letter, eight years ago-” 

“For you! For you, it was one letter, eight years ago. For me it was every email I sent, every text, every time I had to respond or send you anything, anytime you needed to change a schedule and I couldn’t do it…fuck, is this gonna be the thing that sets her off? Every time. Every time, I was thinking about that letter. Do you know what that’s like? Do you?” she asked, voice breaking. 

Bianca shook her head. The truth was, she did sometimes overthink her messages to Courtney, but certainly not in the way Courtney was describing. And she certainly wasn’t afraid of losing her kids. 

Courtney paused briefly to wipe the tears coursing down her cheeks. It made no difference. When she looked into Bianca’s eyes again, it was with a hollow emptiness that Bianca could feel down to the depths of her soul. 

“Why would you…why would you ever go there? I mean, did you think I somehow forgot how biology works? Or that I had some mistaken impression that the family court system was gonna be in my favor?” 

“No, of course I didn’t-”

“So what was the purpose of that letter besides putting me in my place? Telling me, for the record, that you are totally willing to use this misogynistic, transphobic system against me, if I dare to piss you off enough?” 

Bianca wiped her eyes, swallowing. It was a blur, but what she did remember was only that she’d told her lawyer to say whatever she needed to make the move happen. “I…I told you why I needed to move-” 

“You did,” Courtney said, eyes still dark and liquid, voice bitter, “So I guess the threat was totally justified, since it was something you really needed. Well, wanted, anyway.”

Bianca cringed, looking away. At the time, she hadn’t allowed herself to think about it. She’d barely even read the letter. The shame she felt now was like something that had been stagnating for years, out of sight, rotting under the surface. 

“And my lawyer, she’s told me, over the years, that the only chance we have, the only prayer, is to make an argument that Danny’s life is in LA, with me. His home, his friends, his school, his music classes, his therapist, his doctors. So…yeah, no, I don’t want to move him to New York. Because then…I have no more argument. None at all.” 

“Wait.” Bianca looked back at Courtney, brow furrowed as it dawned on her exactly what Courtney was saying. “So, even when we’re figuring out how to reconcile, you’re still planning for a hypothetical custody battle?”

Courtney looked down, defeated. Broken. She looked like Bianca felt—utterly shattered, in pieces so jagged and sharp that no one with half a brain would ever want to touch them again. She swallowed, looking ashamed but resigned. 

“We don’t really have the best track record, do we?” she asked, voice thin.

“I guess not.” Bianca gulped, knowing how precarious everything was. Wishing she had the faith that she could fix it. “Earlier, you said…you said that you didn’t actually want me to leave, when we split up the first time. You said that you thought we could work through it.” 

“Yeah, well…what the fuck did I know?” Courtney asked tiredly. 

“I’m serious,” Bianca said quietly, tears brimming in her eyes. “Do you…still think we can work through it?” 

There was a long pause, and Bianca’s heart hammered in her chest, dreading the answer.

“I don’t know,” Courtney finally whispered, eyes downcast. 

Bianca nodded, biting her lip, trying to fight the feeling of defeat. She’d given an opening, small as it was, and if she could just wriggle through it, maybe they still had a chance. But before she could say anything, before she could gather her thoughts to respond, Courtney spoke up again.

“What I do know is, it’s like we have all the same issues we had before, plus eight years of complicated shit on top of it. It’s just gotten so big…and we just…we always go straight for the jugular. The second I felt hurt, I wanted to hurt you back.” 

“I know, I-” 

“No, you don’t.” Courtney looked up sharply. “I didn’t want to listen. I didn’t want to hear anything you said. I just wanted to fucking hurt you.” 

Bianca let out a dry chuckle. “You did…go from zero to a hundred pretty quick. Like you were waiting for a reason to fight.” 

“Maybe I was,” Courtney admitted. 

“Well…maybe we needed to have it out,” Bianca said generously. “It would make sense. It’s…it’s even healthy to do that, right?”

Courtney shook her head, horrified. “Healthy? Are you…out of your fucking mind right now? No!”

“Well, it’s like you said,” Bianca defended herself, “We’ve got a lot of baggage and shit, Court, and-” 

“Yeah, yeah, we do. And we need to be able to talk about that baggage. To say things, even angry, shitty things, without wanting to tear each other apart.” Courtney shook her head, more tears brimming in her eyes. “But I wanted to fucking light you on fire, and I didn’t care that I would burn too. Because I knew you’d hit back, just as hard, maybe harder. I know you. I knew, that once I lit that match, I’d be burning the whole thing to the ground before we even had a chance to-” She buried her face in her hands, now openly crying, and Bianca stepped forward, unsure what to do or say to make it better. 

“Court…” She put a tentative hand on her shoulder. “You know it’s not just you, right? I did the same thing, just saw red, and went for blood, and I-” 

“I know, that’s my point, I-” Courtney gasped for air, then swallowed, looking away, out the window. When she finally caught her breath, she continued. “I used to think that loving each other was enough of a reason to fight for this relationship. To do everything we could to save it. Even when this shit happened.” 

Used to. That sounded bad. Were they really past the point of no return? 

“Courtney-” 

Courtney turned back to her, eyes glistening. “I was…so fucking desperate to hang on to the good parts, because the good parts are so, so fucking good, that I would just, ignore this shit. Wake up the day after a blowout like this and pretend it never happened. Ignore the pain, the scars, never talk about it again until the next fight when all the same unresolved garbage would come out again. But…”

Bianca could feel her blood starting to run cold. A runaway train was coming towards her, and she was powerless to stop it. Frozen in place. 

“Is this what we want to teach them, B?” Courtney asked, “about what love is supposed to look like? That when you get into a fight, you hurt the person you supposedly love, you say something meant to destroy them? Is that what we want to show them?” 

Bianca shook her head, unable to muster up her voice for even one word. She was right, of course. They were lucky that they’d gotten divorced while their kids were still too young to remember. That they’d never scarred them with this toxic bullshit. 

“I want to teach them that love…” Courtney took a shaky breath. “That love is beautiful. And joyful. That love is about kindness and tenderness and compassion and that people who love you will build you up, have your back, and never tear you down. And we…we’re just…we’re not a good example of that. And we can’t blame it on being young or stressed about money, or any of that shit, not anymore. Maybe this is just who we are. Maybe this is just what we do when we’re together. But we can’t let our children watch us destroy each other. We can’t take the chance that they’ll think it’s okay. Or worse, that they’ll let anyone ever ever treat them the way we treat each other.” 

Courtney held Bianca’s gaze for a few more seconds, tears still coursing down her cheeks, waiting for something. Approval? Bianca wished desperately that she could disagree. Come up with some reason she was wrong, some counterpoint to what Courtney was saying. But the truth was, she was right. Horrifyingly right. The thought of either of their kids thinking that this fucked up dynamic they had was normal was enough to turn her stomach. 

Bianca nodded, slowly, expecting Courtney to immediately leave, slam the door behind her. 

But she continued to look into her eyes, saying softly, “You know, if it was just us…I wouldn’t care.” Courtney smiled through the fresh tears trickling down her cheeks. “I’d stay and enjoy the fucking glow as long as I could, and just…let the flames consume us both.”

Her words gave Bianca zero comfort. A single tear burned down her own cheek as Courtney finally sighed, bright eyes turning dull and empty as that flame finally went out.

When she shut the door, it wasn’t an angry slam. Just a soft click, which somehow felt so much worse, so much more final, wrecking Bianca in a way that she wasn’t expecting, making it difficult to breathe.

Just before her shaking legs gave out, Bianca sat down heavily on the bed, put her head in her hands, and wept. 

[robinsfilm]

POISONED WELLS

Summary: In which Jason Todd tries to get used to the new beginning brought to him.

Warnings: angst, a lot of it, kinda gory metaphors, description of ptsd, intrusive thoughts, insomnia and nightmares, emotional numbness.

Notes: Well, this is.. something. It's a piece I wanted to write for some time now. It's definitely not as deep as I'd like to go. Though, I feel like I'll slowly get there when writing Jason. I tried my best to show through words how much (imo) Jason yearns for normalcy but fears the sudden relapse/betrayal it might come with. I also wanted to talk about this self-isolation and hyper-vigilance that comes with it. One day I want to do a piece maybe without reader. That's just a thought tho. I'd really appreciate feedback on his characterization and writing! Thank you for reading.

Word count: 988.

Masterlist. Navigation.

"Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined."

– Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous

For the longest time, every time Jason Todd tried to sleep, his so-called rest was haunted by nightmares. He remembers how sometimes he couldn't even lay down on a bed. Whatever run-down warehouse he used as a safe house never felt safe..

The bed was filthy. The once-white sheets were now stained, losing their original color, marred with sickly brown spots. He remembers the covers being too hot, sticking to his skin, clawing at him, digging into his flesh and refusing to let go. It felt as if they had grown into him, settling inside.

Unable to rest on the bed, he tried the nearly broken chair in the middle of the room. He sat and fell asleep, though he couldn’t call it rest. Every time, poisonous laughter and the continued breaking of his bones by metal filled his thoughts, taking over every corner of his mind. He could taste the rotten feeling of it, the memory so visceral.

Jason felt like he was being torn open from the inside out, thorns growing deep in his heart, spreading, ripping, and shredding. Jason Todd never slept.

He tried to get used to it. It was a part of his now messed up life. If he could even call it living. No, it was survival. From the very start, he realized he needed to let go of wishes and hope for a better night of sleep, a better morning, a day without feeling his entire body crumble because of resurfacing memories.

Jason Todd never lived. He survived, hanging by a thread, ready to snap at any moment. Against his better judgment, deep in his heart, he hoped it wouldn’t.

*****

You could refer to all of this as a splinter the body doesn't reject. Instead, it settles inside the flesh and stays, spreading its poison and pus deeper and deeper until, suddenly, you cannot live without the feeling.

For the longest time, Jason wouldn't sleep in the same bed with you. He just couldn’t. He tries, tries so much, but some wounds run deep. It takes patience and time, so much time, for a single speck of progress to be seen. And sometimes, it never even shows.

Jason didn’t understand why you stayed. He didn’t understand why anyone stayed. In his mind, he was still terrified it was all a lie. All it would take was one mistake from him, and you would leave. His insecurities gnawed at his heart, too much to bear.

Jason had tried to stitch himself back together so many times, and every time, he didn't look right in his own eyes. There was something so wrong, he thought. He wanted to rest. He wanted sleep without dreams. He wanted peace. He didn’t think he deserved it. In his mind, he might never deserve it.

*****

It was late when Jason got back from patrol. The rain ripped through the air and crashed into him like bullets. He felt cold and tired, so tired. He could see the dim light shining from your apartment window, like a single star in the sky.

Upon entering, he found you on the couch, peaceful, with a book in your hands. He tried to calm down, tried to take a deep breath, but it didn’t seem to work. His fists clenched.

Jason shuffled to the couch, taking a seat next to you. The feel of the apartment seemingly grounded him. The smell of some baked treat reached him from the kitchen. He could hear your low breaths and see how your chest rose with each one.

You're okay. He's okay. He told himself over and over again. You put your book away, turning to face him. Your words sounded so warm when you spoke. They cleared his mind, banishing any other thoughts that might haunt him.

You probably asked him how his patrol went, but he couldn’t muster up an answer. He just stared. He finally found the courage to mumble the word.

“Stay."

You stayed silent, unmoving. But you understood. You smiled at him. You always smiled at him. Even after everything he had done. Every last shitty thing. You smiled.

He thought of himself as a curse, you – a cure. You were a well, he – a parched man. He wouldn’t allow himself to drink, he wouldn't. The fear of it being poisoned scared him. He was scared. He yearned for comfort, the sweet touch of rest. The need was a knife, the knife he turned deep inside himself. It cut and cut.

But you were still here. Still looking at him with love in your eyes. He wondered if you would look at him with the same affection if you knew how broken he really was.

You slowly raised your hands, warning him quietly of your touch. Both of your hands settled on his cheeks, and you brought him closer to you. He followed, not even noticing the tears that surfaced. You placed his head onto your chest, cradling him. Brushing his hair away from his face, you murmured sweet nothings into his ear.

“You're safe, you're okay. This is your home. Rest, Jason.”

He gripped his arms around you, hanging onto you for dear life. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he let go. He listened to your heartbeat.

And as he held onto you, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat became a lullaby, a reminder that there could be peace, even if just for a moment. For the first time in what felt like forever, the darkness inside him began to fade, replaced by the warmth of your embrace.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a sliver of hope. A chance that tomorrow wouldn’t be as bleak. And with that thought, Jason Todd closed his eyes, allowing himself to believe, if only for a fleeting second, that he deserved this solace.

He would drink from the well this time. He would sleep this time. He’d sleep without dreams.

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[iarasmithstories]

LL, brains or fucks?

Afonso and Diogo, the forbidden bromance love. From the moment their eyes locked, a bond was formed to infinity.

Smoking, drinking, fucking everyone in sight; a constant longing that was overcompensated by self-destroying themselves.

Could they overcome all the obstacles and see their real feelings?

First part soon... stay tuned...

[hinamie]

spiraling

[paintedcrows]

Holiday Classics

Been thinking about Ford watching the 70s Animated Lord of the Rings Movies... (companion comic to this post!)

[egophiliac]

What do you like about the Diasomnia boys if I may ask?

I always love hearing about the different reasons people enjoy characters.

I mean, c'mon. he has split custody over Sebek okay

also, Lilia in particular has maybe the best timeskip character development of all time

[technically-human]

St. Hilarion's ghost story

[angelofdumpsterfires]

so my initial theory regarding how they’d handle the hell arc in tlovm was that they’d combine it with the quest for the dawnmartyr’s plate (bc they both involved a contract to kill a pit fiend and also hotis isn’t a thing in the show)

but upon the trailer i don’t think that’s the reason they go to hell

note the whitestoney design on the casket here, this is percy’s casket

NOTICE THE DISTINCT LACK OF PERCY IN ANY OF THE SHOTS SET IN HELL (especially since percy was such a lead in that arc with his deal with ipkesh and all)

I THINK THEY’RE ON A MISSION TO RESCUE PERCY’S SOUL FROM THE FLAMES OF HELL POST GLINTSHORE

(and the dawnmartyr’s plate is just a bonus here)

[moonysmates]

Fictober day 12!!! is out now!!!

canon compliant reg-centric oneshot!!! ft the cave and jegulus angst and dorcas being a very hot very angry hot person!!! and pandora being awesome!!! and reg breaking everyone he loves' hearts to try and end the war!!! reg's patronus is a key theme!!!

go read it!!! (please please please read the tags)

[plumadot]

Alright you've given us the power to request any life series event... How about the "you saved me Joel! You saved me! You saved me so I can kill you!" Part when etho was hunting greens in limited life?

bye-bye boat bad boy

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

If you still believe in the Lord above, get on your hands and knees and pray for us.

[benevolenterrancy]

Scholarly peak is catching up on recent literature

[charlotte-family-apologist]

How bad do you think his deja vu is?

[pawphin]

so when i die, which i must do,