#nothing you do will hurt a fictional character

[sirxlla]

Anemia

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

Warnings: Fainting. Fluff.

Prompt: Jason taking care of his S/O after they faint (requested by anon)

Notes: gender of reader, italics are actions and thoughts. i'm a new writer, so i'm trying to do what might be good layout? pls Imk what you think of the story or anything really in the comments, i'd really appreciate it.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

Tim was going to give blood and it sounded like a good way to help out the community due to their being a recent shortage, one of the facilities had recently burnt down so you went with him. Jason tagged along because he had a an errand to run around the area where the blood bank was; He was swapping old books out for new and the library was closer so you guys did that first to get it out of the way.

Needles were never overly too much on an issue when you normally got blood tests and things done but oh did you anticipate this incorrectly. The needle had to be in your arm for so much longer and you were starting to feel it a bit but thought it was nothing. Jason held your hand the entire hand, you hadn't even asked or overly needed it until the end but he did it anyways. The blonde nurse held a cottonball over the needle as she pulled it out to stiffle the blood before gently wrapping your arm in the elastic wrap bandage albeit a bit too tight.

After she was done with you she started flirting with him because of course almost every woman did considering how handsome and charismatic he was and the air of confidence that happened to surround him entirely. Jason was a very secure man in his masculinity and himself so he tended to find men and women flirting with him at almost every occasion. He was trying to be nice because you wanted to get out of there as quickly as he could.

You were annoyed at this point because you weren't feeling the best because of how much blood gotten taken so you tried to stand up and as soon as you did everything went black for just a moment, you are almost positive that you would end up hitting the ground but of course Jason being that kind of man he was and how just because it seemed like he wasn't paying attention didn't mean he actually wasn't his arms came around you and securely held you up guiding you back to the chair.

"Woah...Hey..." He spoke gently as you came back to and your vision filled back with color and focused itself in place.

"You got to be careful, Baby." With that one word 'Baby' the nurse backed off. Jason almost smiled has he noticed that she backed off.

"Do you want me to carry you?" At this point he was almost showing off. He had that smirk on his face that told you he most definitely was boasting.

It was also something that you loved so much the way that he almost bragged about the fact that he was with you, it made you feel like you were important. You are the apple of his eye and he saw no one else, the two of you could talk fictional characters or celebrities and all that sort of thing all day long but when it came to a true living person he'd ever come in contact with, he wanted no one else but you.

Tim had gave blood and then he had for some reason just to vanished off into the midst of wherever cause he had forgot his and Bernard anniversary so he ran off and failed to tell anyone about. Of course everyone knew that he could take care of himself so they left him to go on about whatever he needed.

There was nothing to do but take you home Jason had already done his errand which was fairly quick all things considered. Jason went to the library so constantly that he had their own personal phone number, one of the head Librarians there and he texted him what books he needed and then he could pick them up whatever he they were ready.

Of course it probably didn't hurt the fact that Jason made good sizable donations to the place. He has so much extra money lying around because he doesn't spend it like his other brothers do due to growing up in the shitholes of Gotham.

It was something that was exceedingly important to him because of course online was great but there was nothing in his mind even remotely came close to the hard copy of a book.

"Come on, Sweet Cheeks." He said with that same cocky tone as he scooped you into his arms picking you up like you weighed nothing.

Jason somehow consistantly found different pet names to call you just to keep you on your toes, there was something baout the wat your eyes lit up when he would find a new good one to add to his collection.

He guided you to your red Jeep that he had bought you for your birthday. You had been planning on getting a vehicle for a while but you were trying to save up for it; Before you knew it, he handed you some keys in the middle of work. Jason acted like it was nothing. Naturally, he knew when money was important due to the way he grew up before Bruce but he used it so sparingly Bruce had to often remind him it was even there.

Also in his mind, getting you the Jeep didn't hurt cause then he didn't have to stay out of bed til the ass crack of dawn after his night patrols to drive you to work.

He gently set you in the passenger seat and he buckled your seatbelt for you, something he definitely didn't need to do but the small things were that done naturally without him even even thinking about it.

He slid into the driver's, texted Tim he and you were headed home and Jason made his way across the city Gotham traffic.

"Babygirl, Let's get you some food, what would you like? Oh, who am I kidding it's always the same with you." He laughed and smiled widely, his free hand reaching over the middle console to hold yours.

"It's alright, just relax okay?" He could see the color in your face that had drained substantially compared to before your blood was drawn, it was obvious to him and to yourself that it was probably not a good idea to give so much blood. With the way you were feeling it was possible that you are anemic and didn't even know it, the sluggishness and lightheadedness were good signs of it.

Jason went through the drive-thru and got your favorite food from your favorite place. He knew your order without even asking, handing it to you as he parked in the parking lot of the restaurant. He just wanted you to feel better so he let you eat your food and slowly the color slightly came back to your cheeks.

"You feelin okay, Beautiful?" Concerned still lacing his tone.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Jay." You smiled slightly and ate your food feeling a lot better. Of course he was still worried about you, that came to him naturally to him. He knew that you would be okay though but that wouldn't stop him from keeping you in bed the rest of the night. The two of you watched movies and he made sure you were feeling better. Not that you ever wanted to but he never let you give blood like that again.

(Send me prompts if you want)

Masterlist

[angelshizuka]

I like Stolas. I’m not a ride or die fan, but I like him. He’s an entertaining and likable to watch character, even though he’s a royal he is capable of breaking the classist conditioning ingrained in him from birth and has made some pretty good strides in doing so. He’s a good dad. He has made mistakes, every parent does. One of which was getting so caught up in his fight and break up with Stella and the mixture of stress, fear, and freedom that comes with finally leaving your abuser to forget about the comet storm that Octavia always wanted to see with him. It’s a completely understandable mistake but it was one none the less. He made up for it immediately, went out of his way to do so, so he could still have and share that moment with his daughter. We have seen him comfort Octavia when Stella stayed in bed, we have repeatedly seen him talk about how much he loves his daughter and we have repeatedly seen him show that love to Octavia. He’s a good dad and anyone who says otherwise is watching a completely different show. I’m not saying that he does but I don’t care if Stolas is a bad husband to Stella, I don’t care if he makes Stella look bad, I don’t care about any criticism anyone has about Stolas’ treatment of Stella. She is canonically his abuser, he don’t owe her shit. No one owes their abuser love, loyalty, or to “make them look good” Stolas didn’t deserve the abuse Stella put him through and he doesn’t owe her protection of her public image.

It's nice to hear this from a more neutral fan and I totally agree!

What I love about Stolas is how realistic he is as a father. I mean, those "perfect" parent figures in fiction can be enjoyable, but let's be real, no real life parent is actually like that. Every parent has their flaws, every parent has done or said the wrong thing, every parent has forgotten something that's important to their child, every parent has made a (in their eyes) small mistake that scarred their child for life. You get the point.

What matters is how the parent deals with it once they realize the bad affect it's had on their kid and THAT is why I will die on the hill Stolas is technically a good dad (not perfect, but I'm sick and tired of people acting like a parent can only be good when they're perfect, because perfect parents literally don't exist).

Literally every single time Stolas realized his actions hurt Octavia, he's gone out of his way to fix it. I've seen some haters say "he never learns because he did it again" and I'm just like... no? His mistake in Loo Loo Land and his mistake in Seeing Stars are not the same thing (inappropriately flirting in front of his daughter vs being too caught up in the divorce to pay proper attention to her), so how could he have learned from it already!?

Flawed parents are literally my fave, they remind me of my own and I learned first hand how those mistakes say nothing about how much they love me and how much they're willing to fight for me. And not to end on a sad personal note, but seeing my dying mother cry about mistakes she still regrets (including things that happened almost two decades ago) puts A LOT into perspective.

[darkfictionjude]

Sorry but being ok with Sally and vying for Prudence's love are two different things lol I know Sally ain't innocent and is probably gonna be revealed to be evil or an ass but at the end of the day he still has been taking care of MC. Prudence tho? One of the main reasons Crown's life is hell.

But it’s up to the individual on how they play it. If you re-read what I said I never implied they were same in character and action, I compared the feelings people have to them. If some people want to accept Sally’s issues and love him for it then it’s ok for others to want pru to love Crowny there’s literally nothing wrong no one here has a moral high ground on which fictional character that’s messed up Crowny’s life (because it can be argued that Sally inadvertently made Crowny’s life also hell by sheltering them so much) they want to love and to love them

Like I joke around but really it’s throwing stones in glass houses, one form of toxic relationship might be more grave than the other but unless you stan a morally pure character in this game (closest would be Asia) everyone likes someone who has hurt Crowny whether physically, mentally or psychologically. Also many people likely have fraught relationships with their own mothers and use fiction to try and mend that wound which I find very poignant so I do understand the desire to want Crowny and Pru’s relationship to repair

[xanderscollection]

"Growing up is realising a (random ship) you loved is actually weird and bad"

Yeah? Is it? Great, I love it even more. The worse it is the Better.

[asgardian--angels]

I honestly just think it's funny that so many people have been watching ofmd as a 'comfort show' lmao like I'm over here specifically watching for the angst. I crave pain and suffering. As soon as High On A Rocky Ledge played in the pilot I was hooked because I knew I was in for intense emotional turmoil. Red Flags is now my favorite episode of the entire series. I honestly didn't expect Izzy to survive as long as he did. His fucked up relationship with Blackbeard has fed me so well.

Of course I adore the love story, and the fact that Ed and Stede's love is an absolute, an immutable fact, of the show's premise allows me to enjoy the angst all the more. But I feel like some people need to be reminded: David Jenkins never promised you fluff. He never promised no deaths, no tragedy, no violence, no difficult topics. Personally I think including a fair deal of all of those makes the hope, the love, and the comedy shine all the brighter and have more meaning. You don't have to agree, but you can't assign expectations to a show that never made such promises. There was never false advertising. David set out to tell the story of two troubled, complicated adults navigating love and a long-term relationship in an often harsh and unfair world, finding community and making meaningful gains in self-actualization along the way. Ultimately it is a 'feel good' story but it's a rocky and winding road meant to mirror the messiness of our real world. Maybe you need to step back and re-evaluate where canon ends and your headcanons begin, and what the 'goals' of the show actually are that may differ from what you're looking for in media, and not blame Jenkins et al. for 'betraying you' when they're just telling their story the way they set out to.

[mbat]

yknow what im sick of the words good person and bad person its a very annoying way to categorize things actually

[asterdeer]

i am not an impartial assessor by any means, i love a toxic best frenemies more than life itself so of course i'm a jon&daisy truther, but like. the thing that pissed me off so much about that "i never forgave her, she never asked me to, she knew she didn't have the right" is that. well, firstly, fuck off. secondly, why are we singling out daisy for her lack of asking forgiveness when SO MANY OTHER characters have been equally wretched to jon, excepting martin i guess if i have to, and have still been given the narrative seal of approval? is it because she's a cop? because basira never gets that level of authorial derision. basira gets the literal last word of the show. i haven't relistened to s4 because fuck s4 but i don't remember any apology scene with melanie, and it's not like melanie was meaningfully less influenced by the slaughter in terms of affect on jon's bodily safety, and yet she's still allowed to be all "well maybe we can still be friends even though i've done nothing for you and endangered your life multiple times :)" and by s3 neither basira nor melanie have any kind of rapport with jon, basira doesn't particularly care and melanie has never stopped resenting jon, but they're still allowed to stomp jon into the curb with their moral superiority and jon is expected to take it.

meanwhile, even in s3, there's a funny little chemistry between jon and daisy, not romantically but like - of course jon doesn't trust her, he's right not to, but when they go talk to sarah baldwin, they get a little banter! it's cute! jon laughs! he seems bizarrely comfortable around her and it's refreshing. and obvs their bond gets stronger after the coffin. daisy talks to jon, even occasionally tries to stick up for him. aside from martin, whose self-isolation is a big point of s4, daisy is like. the only one (iirc) who isn't constantly trying to emotionally grind jon into a fine powder until he admits that he's a monster and a worm and that he doesn't deserve to live except on everyone else's terms. daisy is the only one who humbles herself enough to empathize with him. "boo hoo i'm a monster" she gets to say that because she's the only other goddamn person who admits that she's monstrous too!! no one else ever takes this gentle a tone with jon and this time i'm including martin because fuck s5 martin and his mean "apology retracted" "making jon be grateful for not hitting him" ass!!!

so, thirdly, fuck off with the "she knew she didn't have the right." by that logic no one else has the right to be friends with jon either but they sure as hell aren't bothering to ask forgiveness. i just don't understand why the narrative sticks up for jon's traumatic experiences with his "allies" in this one single area and then goes back to throwing him to every other wolf in sight. daisy sacrificed herself in part to protect him. she was killing herself slowly in order to atone and then gave up her own atonement to keep the others safe. in my opinion no one else was aware of their own sins or did more to make up for them than daisy tonner and it makes me so angry that they had to kick her even lower after her death, souring her only other important relationship besides with basira to make some cruel, holier than thou point.

[wildfairies]

getting called parasocial on bg3 reddit because slaughtering innocents and consequently upsetting characters i like makes me sad even though it’s jUsT a ViDeO gAmE

[katyspersonal]

You don't get invested in people's fandomless OCs and original projects because you are only online for the "content for your current hyperfixation". I don't get invested in people's fandomless OCs and original projects because if they abandon me it will hurt like heck to uproot all memories and emotions developed towards these, like a stump of a chopped tree, however a creator of a huge show/videogame/etc doesn't have that power. 😎

[skunkes]

Do u ever think abt where al (and talon too neow?) will go when u find ur person irl? Ykwim? like do u think we'd forget them / drop / git bored of our lil oc guys (of al's nature)? it feels sad!!! like a real loss 2 me. is it weird to be attached to them like they r real? HMM.

i hope ur doing well btw wit all da things ur goin thru. wishin u the best, peace and stability to u, bruther <3

dis is so scary i was just talking to a friend about something adjacent to this...

putting under read more solely because it feels weird to have some of the stuff im gonna mention just out in the open loll ^_^ ^_^

so! I kind of already experienced something like this last year, when i found myself um...in a situation like one you described...

I put al up on the shelf for a bit then picked him back up a few months later for much needed comfort among lots of confusion... I look at this Now as maybe being because, well. things started going south at that time and i needed Al again... + that makes sense! but i also have a friend who's in a long term relationship who still has thier own array of characters in their brain to lean on for comfort (though they aren't ocs)

I understand what you mean though... I'm attached to them like they're real. and neither outcome sounds good to me...!

like if the case is just that The Best Fit For Me, My Partner, really will make me forget about them, that makes me sad!!! Al has been in my life for such a long time. in those few short months of my situation where things were nice, I didn't have much to draw...! I don't know what I would draw if it wasn't my little comforts...! My yearning... It felt really weird even if i was happy for a little bit... it felt weird that he was just Gone.

BUT if the case is that i find a partner that's a good fit for me and i DONT forget about Al (and talon)...then that's also kinda sad...! Sad that I still need additional fantasy comfort that can never be real... because the little guys in my brain are like their own people... sad that there's nothing on earth close enough in the same way that everyone you date can have their own qualities you'll miss because theyre their own person, except they'll always just be in my brain and never in my arms etc etc... it is sad.... sometimes i just get emotional over having created em at all because all the outcomes are so sad to me......

[starpros-sunshine]

I used to be funny you know? I used to have good humour and now every time I try to crack a joke I just feel awkward like I could've gotten that one delivered so much better. Smitten with the curse of not being able to be serious while also being horrible at being silly. If you ask me I'd rather be smitten with other curses but such is life I suppose.

[hecksupremechips]

Fucked up how happy I get whenever I make content of Shinjiro Aragaki being actually loved and getting to heal and learning to love the little things in life and getting to express himself. What’s up with that

[mikakuna]

"jason stans never accept that he's a bad person and he's done horrible things to his family and literally killed people/messed with a girl's head"

i'm snoring so loud right now

[longagoitwastuesday]

I keep thinking of that reply in my Odysseus/Agamemnon post about how I regard differently Odysseus' and Agamemnon's actions, while acknowledging that at times Agamemnon is written as a sweet man and Odysseus is always straight up shitty, and how it was taken as some sort of defense for Agamemnon and as a form of pointing out the double standard; and that wasn't at all what the post was about for me, even though I can see where they were coming from. To be honest, given I didn't imagine it would spread anywhere other than my own blog, I didn't explain myself very well (or at all).

The fact is that when I talked about Odysseus not caring about hurting someone else's child to start and end a war I was indeed comparing his actions to Agamemnon's, but my words about supporting Odysseus' wrongs and cheering him in his terrible actions, while in a joking tone, weren't entirely a joke. I do think that Odysseus does some very shitty acts, and some quite terrible ones depending on the sources. That's a fact, that he does is at the core of his characterisation and it's what makes him so much fun; but not even when he is at his most cruel does he harm his family, his own son. Agamemnon, while sweet and loving at times in some texts, at his worst is willing to sacrifice Iphigenia. When readers regard with more sympathy Odysseus over Agamemnon despite both being responsible for children dying, I don't think there's a double standard in this aspect at all considering it's never his own kid Odysseus harms. And that's the key, I think.

Odysseus and Agamemnon have very different priorities, a very different view on loyalty and duty. It could be said that Agamemnon acts out of selfishness, but it could also be read in a kinder light, saying that Agamemnon is ruled by the gods first, and by his role as head of the achaeans; Agamemnon is not entirely himself. In opposition we see Odysseus acting perhaps mainly for himself and his own family and men; yes, he is a king, but he has not the role Agamemnon has. As a consequence, Agamemnon submits his family's wellbeing to the war, to the gods, while Odysseus stops the plow before hurting Telemachus but is (depending on the source) the cause of Iphigenia's sacrifice and Astyanax's death.

Both Odysseus and Agamemnon have reasons to support their actions, and both can be sympathised with; it's fiction after all. When it comes to fiction, at the end of the day which character a reader is drawn to or sympathises with is mainly an issue of personal taste, but I suppose it also implies a certain level of one's own views or preferences on morals, what makes us find certain actions more justifiable, or tasteful (perhaps that's a more accurate word), than others. Agamemnon sacrificing his daughter, no matter how sympathetic or understandable the reason, generally sits worse on people than Odysseus doing the same with someone else's kids, because they're someone else's. This different emotional reaction they provoke has place not just metanarratively, but also inside the very story; it is narratively significant, given it determines how their arrival home plays out, how their wives react to them, and thus their futures. Ultimately it determines whether they live or die.

I think both terrible acts go in line wonderfully with each characterisation, showcasing the role they hold in their world, what they value, what they care for, what they're willing to sacrifice for themselves and the others, how much of their own they're willing to give and bend. While looking at the wider picture it could perhaps be drawn that Agamemnon is the better person out of the two, but Odysseus' selfish actions are perhaps easier to empathise with, especially from a modern viewpoint. Odysseus is treacherous and prone to betrayal, but not against his own; Agamemnon follows the rules of the gods. How fitting in that context that Odysseus doesn't die at the end of his story, that he cheats the death heroes so often are fated to, almost as if cheating the narrative itself, bending the rules of the world he is ascribed to; how fitting in the context of those texts that point towards Sisyphus being his father. But that's another topic, and I've already talked a lot.

[badscienceman]

forever annoyed by the inability to have constructive conversations involving media criticism anymore. I feel bonkers because it's like everything immediately dissolves into reactionary, all-or-nothing arguments that leave me baffled and usually uncomfortable

[dangerous-advantage]

donatello makes noodle soup

[Word Count: 1 358]

There were some days when Donnie just. Didn't work.

He could have energy and motivation aplenty, could be bursting at the seams with inspiration.

He'd sit down to work, and everything he put to paper would be reduced to eraser smudges within the hour. Half-finished projects piling up in the corners of his lab, to be repurposed for scrap metal later.

It wasn't an inventive block or burn-out. It was his mind grasping for answers and coming up empty.

To his immense frustration, tonight was one of those nights.

Donnie found himself balanced precariously on a stool at the kitchen counter, knees pulled to his plastron. His forehead was laid upon them, eyes scrunched shut, arms limp at his sides.

Oh, ibuprofen, why do you forsake me?

The rain had started up again. While lovely in concept, the smell and the sound and the city lights reflecting off of city pavement, it kind of hurt.

Ow.

Donnie's three-day "pressure" headache had reached its final form, the mother of all migraines. He could thank his lucky stars he didn't get them as bad as Mikey used to, but the point felt moot.

He'd been useless this week, dragging himself around his lab, stealing scattered snatches of sleep here and there.

It didn't help that he wasn't used to their lair yet. Months after the Shredder and the Kraang attack, he didn't feel at home here.

It felt... different. The silence wasn't loud enough.

He didn't like the restlessness. The past few months had been a continual blur of momentum. Rebuilding the lair. Fixing and upgrading his tech. Taking care of Leo. The list was endless.

Yet, he couldn't make his brain work.

Donnie gave a little grumble and let his legs dangle, bending to press his forehead to the cool stone surface of the tile. He turned his face to the side, squinting out at the lit side of the train car.

He should turn off both overhead lights, but he didn't want to injure his shell in a fall. Which was probably just him being paranoid, but–

His eyes caught on the spine of a cookbook peeking out from a stack on the back corner of the stove-side counter. He frowned (or scowled, since he was already frowning). Where had he–?

Noodle soup.

Donnie sat up, blinking. That was... that was the cookbook. With the recipe for noodle soup. His noodle soup.

He hadn't made that in forever.

Donnie stood, influenced by the gravitational pull of memories. He stumbled over to the counter, freeing the book from its dusty prison. He brushed his hand over the cover. This had come to the new lair?

In their first move, when everything was new and raw, it hadn't occurred to him to go looking. Not with everything else on his mind.

He thumbed through the well-loved pages, instinctually flipping open to the recipe. He stared at it, that same diagram embedded in his brain. When had he forgotten?

I'm making this right now, aren't I?

Resigned to the whims of his heart, he set the cookbook down and went to fetch a stockpot.

He didn't need a recipe to make it. The motions were imprinted in memory. But having the cookbook open was part of the process. It would be wrong to make noodle soup without it's "supervision."

He gathered the ingredients first.

It was strange doing so in a new kitchen set up. He turned to the right, looking for a cabinet that wasn't there, and came face to face with the fridge.

He could have grabbed the ingredients he needed (sesame oil, soy sauce, sriracha, and the rest) but it wasn't right. Non-refrigerated items went first.

He turned and rifled through the cabinets. Ground ginger and garlic were easy to find, and the rice vinegar took only a minute of reorienting to find where Mikey stored it.

The rice noodles were more elusive. Mikey kept the noodles in a lower cabinet, but after a few minutes of searching, rice noodles were nowhere to be found.

Donnie considered giving up (no, he would not use another noodle variety, thank you very much) before he remembered glimpsing some in the top of the pantry a few weeks prior.

Searching through it, he was rewarded with a single package of flat rice noodles.

Donnie filled a medium-sized bowl with semi-warm water from the sink and folded the noodles in to soak. He placed a strainer next to them ahead of time, a habit he'd formed after one too many close calls. He'd check back in eight-ish minutes, then two.

in the meantime, he switched the heat to medium-high and set out to gather the rest of his ingredients.

Chicken broth, eggs, cilantro. He skipped the green onions, as he couldn't stand the way they'd stick in his mouth. Everything else was laid out methodically on the stove-side counter for easy reach.

"Instruments of measuring?" he mumbled beneath this breath. "Check."

He measured the oil directly into the stockpot, followed by ground ginger and garlic. He eyeballed the latter, but was exacting with the former. He let the mixture heat for a half-a-minute, withdrawing a cutting board and knife and placing them on the counter.

When he returned, he added the rest of the base: sriracha, broth, soy sauce, and rice vinegar. Unlike Raph and Mikey, he valued his taste buds, so he added less sriracha than the recipe demanded.

He turned the heat up, coaxing the broth to a boil. The recipe recommended he add the noodles at this stage, but after many years of perfecting it to his tastes, he'd learned the texture was better if he waited.

As it cooked, he chopped cilantro, breathing in the scent of home.

It reminded him of late nights in the kitchen, when he couldn't sleep or couldn't think or couldn't bear to be alone. The unhurried certainty, moving through motions instinctive to the point of monotony.

For some, the repetition would have dissuaded, driven them away. For Donnie, it was grounding, a long bath in a dark room with a good book. He could get lost, allow his mind to wander, the weight of responsibility slipping from his shoulders.

His head was feeling a little better. Maybe the ibuprofen was kicking in.

When the broth had retreated back to a comfortable simmer, Donnie strained the rice noodles and added them to the pan. He watched, a hint of a smile on his face.

For the next few minutes, he'd put ingredients away. When he returned, it'd be time to finish the dish.

Cooking was an act of care, Donnie reflected. It took time and resources. The art of making something for someone in any craft was an act of care. Making something for your enjoyment alone – it sounded selfish, phrased like that.

Donnie was used to giving himself away. His time, his energy, his motivation – he would give it all, for his family. But when was the last time he had taken back?

It felt like life had been going and going, and then it stopped, leaving him reeling. His wheels were spinning on a nonexistent road.

When was the last time he had stopped? Did he remember how to?

Did any of them?

Donnie had never felt like a child. He'd always been "so mature for his age." Now he wished that he hadn't.

His eyes blurred at the edges. He sniffed, blinking hard.

"Urgh, stupid steam," he announced, to a kitchen of nobody. And then he laughed a little, because who did he have to convince? The cookware?

I'm almost done, anyway.

Donnie retrieved the eggs. With exact precision, he cracked them into a measuring cup and poured them into the soup, one after the other. They floated on top, just starting to white.

He'd let them cook for another four minutes, then add cilantro.

He wondered if the soup would taste just how he remembered. Somehow, he didn't think it would.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that. It wasn't good or bad. It just was.

Donnie shut the cookbook and put it back where he'd found it.