#or things you thought okay on where you only really did poorly

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

I may go into more detail about “Sinsmas” later, but I did want to talk about what I considered to be the one scene/sequence that I thought was very well done and that I truly enjoyed—Octavia’s song, “I Will Be Okay”.

(Song/Character Discussion below)

Octavia’s song is almost everything I could have asked for. A somber echo of Stolas’ song from season 1, Octavia’s I Will Be Okay, finally, finally, gives Octavia a voice and the chance to express her grief over her father’s abandonment.

For the first time in the series, there’s no one to tell Octavia that she should give her dad some slack or that she should forgive him. She’s finally allowed to be upset, to fully mourn her relationship with Stolas and to get mad about what happened. She’s finally allowed to start working towards accepting the ways Stolas’ neglected her, and begin healing from that pain and trauma.

Octavia’s experience is both terribly heart-wrenching and, in the most painful way, freeing. The lyrics reflect that perfectly, with Octavia acknowledging that while she’s not okay now because of everything Stolas put her through, she WILL be okay, and will grow into her own person without him.

The song is a direct response to Stolas’. Octavia is answering him, saying “Yes, I will be okay. Not because of anything that you were supposed to or failed to provide me as a father, but because I will forge my own path, and in doing so will heal from the pain you caused me.”

It’s a bittersweet song about finding the strength to cut contact with someone you loved who has repeatedly failed you in the worst ways, and who isn’t going to change.

I do have one “criticism” for this song and sequence, not because anything from it was poorly done, but because, in my opinion, the song’s visuals could have been even better.

The following scene was in the original storyboards for “I Will Be Okay”, and was changed in the final episode:

I think the decision to change the visuals for these lyrics in the song was a mistake. Please don’t get me wrong, the animation in this entire episode was fantastic, my critiques of Helluva Boss are almost never about the animation.

But the above sequence just has so much more emotional weight to me. It’s the visualization of Octavia realizing she can’t rely on Stolas, that she has to look to herself for comfort.

Octavia taking her younger self from her neglectful father’s arms, symbolizing that she’s accepted that Stolas cannot be depended on and that she’ll have to take care of herself now, is such a powerful image.

It really is a shame to me that they cut this scene, because I think it fully encapsulates everything Octavia has been through in such a simple and effective way. I think the scene really loses something by cutting this visual.

With all of that said though, Octavia’s song, and the scene where she FINALLY calls Stolas out for his behavior were very cathartic for me. I know that the scene’s intent was most likely to make us empathize with Stolas for losing his daughter, but I found myself empathizing only with Octavia, and hoping that she gets the time she needs to heal.

I would love it if the show actually let her decide whether or not she wants Stolas back in her life, but given the way HB’s writers portray women, I worry that it’s likely some big event will happen that “reveals” Stella to be awful, and Octavia will forgive Stolas just like that, and will probably end up apologizing to him instead (like in “Seeing Stars”)

Anyway, just like Octavia being the only good thing in Stolas’ life, “I Will Be Okay” was, in my opinion, the only good thing in “Sinsmas”. (well that and Octavia calling Stolas out)

[proto-language]

finally got my feedback from all last year's exams to go with the marks. absolute fucking gut-punch stuff. don't really know how i am meant to keep going except through sheer inertia.

[lord-squiggletits]

Man there's nothing wrong with genderbends as a concept but there's something lowkey infuriating about this fandom's tendency to take canonically gay (or at least, MLM) male characters and genderbend them into women like. Is that not at least a little bit uncomfortable for anyone else here or is it just me

[sistertotheknowitall]

Danny is Some Guy with a not so secret admirer.

Part four? Post #four? I don’t know, none of these are exactly in order. Post one, post two, post three.

——

By the time Tim opened the door, Danny had his coffee made and handed to Mia at the register. He resolutely ignored her smug face and went back to making the other orders.

Tim had been a regular long before Danny had started at the coffee shop but it was three days into Danny’s third week when Tim had stumbled in at eight a.m. and did a double take upon seeing Danny. A very obvious double take followed by intense staring before Mia had cleared her throat. The blush that lit up Tim’s face was only rivaled by the one on Danny’s.

He had never had anyone openly stare at him before.

Mia had been insufferable ever since.

It also didn’t help that shortly after their first meeting Tim had started taking his breaks at the little coffee shop. It’s been three weeks, nearly a month and Wayne Enterprise’s CEO went from a bi-weekly regular to an everyday one. (Danny wondered if he should be concerned for the man’s caffeine intake but he only had the one cup every time so probably not.)

Originally, Danny had no plans to talk to Tim. It seemed obvious the guy had a crush on Danny if the constant looks over his laptop were anything to go by and Danny didn’t want to encourage it. Danny barely had time to make new friends let alone start a relationship.

There was also the added problem of what was quickly becoming his bat stalkers. How do you explain to someone that you were being watched by Gotham’s vigilante’s for no reason? (Or worse because he had made a poorly timed sleep-deprived comment.) Danny didn’t think you could without seeming suspicious.

Incidentally though, Danny’s plan went out the window when on a slow afternoon as he was cleaning tables and passed behind Tim. Once he saw the article the other man was reading he snorted.

Bruce Wayne and The Batman? Could This Be A New Romance For Gothams Most Beloved Billionaire?

It was one of those gossip rags that printed things like: Elvis: alive and well and Superman: a mild mannered farm boy? It was all nonsense.

Danny asked Tim why he bothered with the site and Tim responded that he found it amusing to read and that his family had a group chat where they sent the articles to each other.

“Okay. But Batman? Really? Your dad could do so much better.”

“You don’t like Batman?” Tim asked. Danny had slid into the chair next to him and shrugged. “I respect what he does but for as intimidating as he is, he also seems a little silly.”

Tim had given him an incredulous look and Danny hadn’t given him time to ask for an explanation, “and his kids can be just as rude. Like that flying monkey one.” Tim choked on air and Danny politely waited for him to calm down. “Kids? Wait - flying monkey one? Which one -?”

“The one always doing back flips with the blue bird symbol. He’s also a dick that gives hypocritical lectures about fighting.” Danny wouldn’t say he hated the guy but he wasn’t sure how many more lectures he could endure before going ghost and fighting him.

Tim had turned to Danny completely and was watching him with a look of disbelief, “you mean Nightwing?”

“Is that his name? Imma call him Dickwing.”

Tim had started choking again, this time Danny patted his back hoping to help. Yet it was all for not once he kept talking, “I think I’ve only had positive interactions with the one who looks like a walking red flag.”

“Red flag? Do you men hood-?”

“No, although he is definitely a red flag, I mean the other Red one. I’m sorry, I don’t know all these peoples names yet.”

“Danny!” Mia called.

Danny stood and patted Tim, who looked a little shell-shocked, on the shoulder. “Well work calls, see you later Mr. Drake-Wayne.” As he walked away he heard Tim mutter “it’s just Tim.”

(Tim for his part, placed his head in his hands and thought, well at least I have his name now.)

After that first interaction Tim stopped playing the lurker and started to actually talk to Danny and vise versa. Danny never asked if he still had a crush on him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Unfortunately, their growing friendship had only encoraged Mia as she happily sang “your boyfriend’s here!”

Danny, very maturely, did not stick his tongue out at her. He did however flip her off under the counter like an adult.

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny hadn't ever been on this side of the equation before.

He stared at his old phone, the prickle of unease scratching at his neck.

Danny was the one that died. He was the one that died and came back. He'd never asked anyone how it had felt to see him die over and over again to become Phantom. Danny was starting to think that maybe he should have, if only so that he wouldn't be blindsided about what he felt now.

"Danny? Y'okay?"

Danny glanced up at the mumbled words, numbed eyes looking at Jason's sleep-heavy face.

"Hm?"

"Ya've been lookin' at that thing for an hour now. You good?"

Danny blinked at him, like the world was a sea of bittersweet molasses and he was the sailor drowning beneath its waves. "...Remember how I told you that you reminded me of my sister?"

There was apprehension on Jason's face now. It was a gentle kind of apprehension, softened by worry and love.

“Yeah…?”

Danny gestured for Jason to come closer. He opened the phone and tapped on Jazz.

“Woah. She kinda looks like me.” Jason tugged at his black hair. “Y’know, if I kept my red hair.”

Danny smiled, sad and tired. “Yeah. She really liked reading. And she always wanted to know more. Help more. Like you,” Danny’s eyes laid on the folded uniform of Robin on the kitchen table. He hugged Jason closer. “You remind me of her.”

“What… what happened to her?”

Danny hadn’t cried for a long, long time. Even when Jazz spoke to him in half remembered whispers and in Jason’s actions, he could not shed a tear. But something about today, something about those pictures, opened up a poorly scabbed wound and Danny’s face dripped with slow tears.

“She died,” he whispered. “I brought the vigilante life to her and she died protecting me.”

“Oh. That’s why you were so mad, then.” Jason looked down at the picture, blue eyes tracing the face of the woman that looked so similar to him.

“Yeah.”

“I won’t die, Danny,” Jason promised.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Jay." Danny squeezed Jason's shoulders before wiping away his tears. He inhaled, a slow, shuddering breath, before straightening. "You are so grounded."

"But- Robin!"

"Jason will always come before Robin. And Jason is grounded because Jason lied to me about being Robin and where he was going and whether or not he was safe."

And really, wasn't that the crux of the issue? Danny didn't have any problem with Jason going out and starting fights. He had no problem with how Jason wanted to help. But the thought of loosing him- loosing his loved ones after only learning to keep them clutched to his heart before he looses them- drove Danny down a spiral that he could not afford to enter again.

How many times had Danny almost lose Jason? How many times did he come to loosing the only good thing in Gotham? How many times had he laid asleep, not knowing whether Jason was bleeding out in an alley somewhere? How close had Danny come to waking up to news of Jason's cold corpse?

It made him furious. More than that, it made him terrified. Never in his half life had he ever been afraid to this extent. Not even for Jazz. It made him want to drown the feeling with enough booze to down a speedster. But he couldn't. Not now, not with Jason. His little brother deserved better than that. Not to mention the shit his little brother would get up to if he weren't fully there.

"But first, you gotta help me with something."

"... Fine."

Danny got up and bee-lined towards his booze stash. They're going out. Right now. He shoved the bottles into a tote bag.

"Let's go. We're destroying this."

"We are?"

"I can't be drunk and teach you how to vigilante."

"You're okay with me being Robin?" Hesitant blue eyes peered up at him. Danny's heart melted, the traitorous little shit.

"Not really. But I can't stop you, so I might as well make sure you live past 25." He jabbed Jason's forehead. "And I'll be reaming out Batman the next time he swings by, now that I'm not pissed as hell. I'll make sure it hurts."

"He's not that bad."

Danny sent him an unimpressed look and Jason mimed zipping his mouth closed, twisiting an imaginary key and throwing it over his shoulder. The little shit thinks he's got jokes. (He does, but Danny's supposed to be mad with him right now, so he'll never admit he thinks Jason's funny.)

They walked out of the apartment complex and turned to the right, right into the alley.

Did his heart give a little twinge every time Jason tossed the booze? Yes. But the hopeful thrill in his little brother's countenance made up for every single penny he spent.

"So... How long am I grounded for?"

At the reminder, Danny's hands clamped around one of the last bottles a little harsher than necessary.

"You... are grounded for- till college." He gritted out, tossing the bottle.

Jason's horrified "For- till college?!" rang nicely against the shattering of Danny's booze. Danny grinned and gave Jason a noogie.

"For till college," He affirmed, joking tone making Jason grumble, struggling to get out of the hold. "Or, for like, a week."

---

"Hey, Danny?"

Danny grunted, rousing slightly from his nap on the couch. They had been watching a show in the middle of Jason's grounding when he had drifted off.

"Did I ever tell you I had a brother?"

Danny's eyes flew open. "... No. Do you want to?"

Danny swiveled his head to look at Jason, who sat with his back against the couch and his head set aglow by the light of the TV. He looked... sad. Lonely.

"His name was Danny too."

Danny's heart shot right up to his throat. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. He died." Danny couldn't help the thought that passed him. Me too, buddy, me too. "I thought you were him. 'S why I talked ta ya, even if y're drinkin'."

Danny tilted his head back, silently closing his eyes in grief. It was fate, that wily Ancient.

"Is that... bad?"

"Nah. You're as good a brother as he was."

"Thank you for telling me, Jason."

"Whatever."

Danny laid back down, the thread of a memory all but confirming his theory.

"Come on, Danny-o, Jazz was being a good sister!"

Five year old Danny pulled the blanket up to his chin, pouting. His mother laughed.

"That's right, sweetie. She was trying to make sure you didn't get sick."

"I don't want Jazz! I want- I want a brother instead!"

His parents exchanged amused looks. "Well, Danny-o, you almost had a brother."

"Really?" Danny turned around, curious.

"Really. If Jazz was a boy, we would have named him Jason!" His dad laughed, ruffling his hair.

Danny wrinkled his nose. "Ew. I like Jazz better... oh."

[mariasont]

i loved lipgloss!!! i was wondering if i could pls request smth where spencer walks in the BAU unaware of the lipgloss on his lips from kissing bimbo!receptionist or on his cheeks from being kissed then everyone's like "👀☝️🤨" (english isnt my first language im sorry😭)

STICKY SITUATIONS - S.R

a/n: back with the lipstick trope yeehaw, can't tell you all how much i appreicate u all and how patient u guys are with me when i ghost for like 5 months at a time. thank you so much for the request sug <3

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

warnings: spencer daydreaming about inappropriate things! PDA!

wc: 1.1k

Spencer woke up feeling untouchable, like nothing in the world could shake him. The kind of invincible where even the sky didn't seem like a limit. You had stayed the night, as you often did, and yet every time he woke up with you beside him, it felt like walking on air. Today was no exception.

You made sure he was late today--both of you were. He blamed you entirely, though he didn't mind. You pinned him down with a thousand little kisses, laughing as you insisted that it's essential for a day filled with good luck, and how else was he going to catch all the bad guys without a little charm from you?

Spencer's body vibrated like it was attuned to some invisible, higher frequency, one you alone could set. The smile threatening to break free felt inevitable, like a law of nature, as his mind drifted to thoughts of you--so unavoidable it was as if trying to pinpoint an electron's exact position and momentum in time. 

He had half a mind to swing by the reception desk just to see you. Just for a second. He'd convince himself it was enough, even though it never really was. Today, though? There was no chance he'd make it to his meeting. Not when you were wearing that skirt--his favorite. The one that fit you like it had been hand-stitched by hand for you alone, showing off your thighs in a way that made him picture them around his--

"Reid, you're—," Hotch's voice snapped him back into reality, his brows down turning as he regarded Spencer with a curious frown before shaking his head. "Late. C'mon."

Spencer followed Hotch into the conference room, their entrance as routine as ever--or so he assumed. But the moment they stepped inside, something shifted. The air crackled with stifled laughter, a ripple of poorly contained snickers breaking out across the team.

He froze mid-step, confusion knitting his brow as he scanned the room. His gaze flitted from face to face, trying to uncover the source of their amusement. The laughter, he realized with growing bewilderment, was somehow aimed squarely at him.

His pulse quickened as self-awareness kicked in, and his eyes darted downward, trying to detect the anomaly that had captured everyone's damn attention. A loose thread? A stain? Panic bloomed in his chest as he mentally ticked through a list of possibilities. His sweater seemed intact--no wayward strings. His pants were fine, no errant coffee stains or wrinkles. And his hair--well, his hair always had a mind of its own, but it wasn't that unruly today. Right?

Bastards.

He cleared his throat. "Okay, what did I miss?"

Emily tried--and failed--to stifle her laughter, shaking her head in disbelief. "I think you might need to go to look in the mirror, lover boy."

Spencer didn't bother questioning her. No explanation would be offered, at least not freely. He knew he'd get no real answers from this group, and honestly, he wasn't even sure he wanted them at this point. Instead, he slipped out of the conference room and headed down the hall, his mind a muddled tangle of confusion.

He was so distracted--so consumed with trying to figure out what he'd missed--that he nearly missed the sound of quick, approaching footsteps. It was only at the last second that he looked up, just in time for you to collide with him. His hands moved instinctively, catching your waist as you stumbled forward, stopping you from toppling over.

Spencer's breath caught. Gods know if you'd fallen in those heels, you'd be lucky to escape with just a sprained ankle. But you didn't fall. Instead, you let out a startled giggle as you looked up at him wide-eyed.

"Whoopsie," you said with a smile. "Hi there, handsome."

The instant the words left your lips, you clamped a hand over your mouth, fighting back a high-pitched squeal of laughter.

Spencer, even more bewildered, furrowed his brows in confusion. "Okay, what?"

"Hold still," you instructed, though your voice wavered between stifled giggles. You reached up for him, your fingertips hovering near his face.

He followed your hand with his eyes, still clueless, until you gently cupped his cheek. Whatever it was on his skin drew another wave of laughter from you, and in response, he prodded at your sides, each poke sending you into another fit of delighted squeals.

"Hey, that's not holding still, Dr.!" you gasped, halfheartedly swatting at his hands while you finished wiping away the last bit of whatever had clung to his face.

"Whoopsie daisy," you said again, still brushing invisible flecks from his cheek, your voice reminding him of what he envisioned sunshine poured into a teacup would manifest as. "Aw, Spence, looks like I kinda-sorta-maybe left a tiny little lipstick stain behind."

Your tone was drenched in honeyed innocence, as if this kind of thing just happened and you had no earthly clue how.

Spencer's eyes narrowed. "Is that why I've been subjected to my team's thinly veiled harassment?"

Your eyes went wide, and you gasped as if you'd just witnessed a high crime. "They were giving you trouble? Oh my gosh!" You pressed your fingertips to your lips. "Do I need to have a word with them?"

The determination in your voice sounded all too serious, and he was a little scared that you were actually prepared to march back to that conference room in your pretty heels and give the entire BAU a piece of your mind.

Spencer nearly chocked on a laugh. Of all possible reactions, yours was the sweetest, most fiercely protective--and downright hilarious. He held up a hand in a placating gesture, lips curving into a boyish grin. 

"Hmm, I appreciate the offer," he murmured, gently tapping his chin with a finger as if considering it. "However, I think you might need to have a word with the real culprit who decided my face should double as her personal canvas this morning."

"Me?" You pressed a hand dramatically to your heart. "I would never! I mean, sure, I might've given you a million good-luck kisses before you left, and maybe one or two... or three of my lip gloss stains decided to stick around, but that's hardly my fault!"

You shifted your weight to the balls of your feet and wiggled your fingers in a helpless sort of gesture. "That's just how good my gloss is, y'know?"

"Right," he replied, voice quieter now, eyes warm as they traced your face. "Clearly the lip gloss is at fault. We'll have to issue it a stern warning later."

"Exactly! Don't blame poor, innocent me." You paused, lowering your voice conspiratorially, leaning close enough that he caught the faint scent of your perfume. "And if any of the team give you grief again, you know where to find me!"

Spencer hummed, placing a light hand on the small of your back, steering you gently away from the corridor.

"I'll keep that in mind," he murmured, smiling as if the world had just aligned perfectly in that very hallway. "But for now, maybe we should try to make sure I get back to my meeting... gloss-free."

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @r-3dlips @m-indkiller @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @reiderrambles @averyhotchner @hbwrelic @sky2nd @messylxve @alexxavicry @doigettokeepyou @pleasantwitchgarden @kodzukenmaaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spenciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @c-losur3 @theylovemelody @alahnizamolo @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @spiderladyleah @estragos @khxna @spencerssoup @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72

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[mariespen]

Birthday Reunion ¡! ❞

bf!rafe cameron x daddy issues!reader ¡! ❞ warnings: swearing, drinking, implied drinking problems, implied body shaming, mentions of anxiety, degrading comments summary: “What did I do to deserve you..”

based on this request!

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Your light pink heels tapped down the long staircase of Tannyhill, the curved architecture giving you the perfect princess moment. The only difference was that instead of a ballroom of people at the bottom, it was simply your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron. It didn’t matter, though. People would have thought you were real royalty just by the way his jaw hung when he saw you in the pretty dress he picked out just for your birthday present. It swished around your thighs, bringing his favorite parts of your body to focus… maybe too far into focus.

Your soft giggle broke him out of his star-struck trance. You couldn’t help it, he looked so cute in his formalwear for your birthday dinner. Just as your heels touched down on the ground, Rafe swept you up into his loving embrace.

“Looking fuckin’ amazing, hm?” He said with a grin, love coating his gaze as he looked down at you. All you could do was giggle. 

You poor thing, he always left you speechless.

Rafe’s face softened. Any form of laughter that left your sweet, glossy lips was music to his ears. You kept him close to him for a while and he let you, of course. Tonight was supposed to be fun, a care-free date between you and Rafe. However, it was your mother’s genius idea to bring the family together and celebrate your special day, all together. A family reunion on your birthday.. why did Rafe let you agree to this?

“Gotta cover up..” He muttered, busying himself with your cardigan and handing you one of his bigger zip-ups.

“Thank you..” You said gently, letting him help you drape it over your shoulders to keep you warm.

“Mhm.. you ready princess?” Rafe asked cautiously, still prepared to call you in sick from this whole thing.

“Yeah..” You said, a small frown on your face as you wrapped yourself closer into his sweater.

“Okay, let’s go, yeah?” He said, obviously disappointed that you were so insistent on this, somehow still supporting you.

Rafe knew how these things played out. He could predict it now, keeping you close as the two of you tried to socialize awkwardly with your family and then eventually your father showed up. Usually it was late, most of the time he was already a little drunk, and there was a 100% chance that he was not going to leave the reunion sober by any means. That’s the basic routine besides the fact that in-between downing every drink on the table, your precious daddy would degrade you until you ended up right back in Rafe’s arms.

Right back where you’ve always belonged.

The car ride was silent besides your girlie music and the soft sound of Rafe’s hand occasionally brushing against your dress when he rubbed your thigh comfortingly.

You had a tendency to react poorly in anxious situations, he knew this for a fact. Rafe planned on keeping you very very close tonight.

Pulling up the prolonged driveway of your mother’s expensive house on figure 8 made you want to throw up. She moved from your old house into this atrocity of a mansion, so at least there weren't any prominent reminders of your lonely childhood. It comforted you enough to take Rafe’s hand and let yourself out of the car. 

The two of you winced as you walked up to the door. Neither of you really wanted to be there all that much, Rafe arguably hated it even more than you (which was impressive).

He reached over your head to knock on the door. Five hard knocks that echoed through the soft music playing within the house. Your eyes darted around the cars, thankful to not see your father there yet. Maybe he forgot, he could be so drunk off his ass that he forgot about you.

For the better, probably.

Your mom eagerly opened the door, instantly wrapping both you and Rafe in a tipsy yet somehow still loving hug. Rafe greeted her with a hesitant smile as you slowly worked up the motivation to plaster on your own faux smile for the rest of the night.

Then began the awkward greetings. Your aunt and uncle instantly greeted you, your aunt marvling at Rafe for maybe a second too long. He smiled kindly at them. Rafe had always been better at putting on a nice show. You were thrown around the room, embraced in many of your family’s drunken arms and sluggish greetings. Somehow, even through all of the commotion, Rafe’s gentle hand remained on your back.

Hours passed and you felt a gasp of relief leave you as you realized the reunion was nearly over and your father had yet to make a show. You stood near the front door with Rafe over your shoulder, giddy to leave the moment that the clock struck 9pm. 

You felt his hand come down to your waist and clutch you closer to him, causing you to flinch slightly in surprise. Your heart stopped, realizing quickly why his grip was so prominent on your side. 

Dragging himself into the house through the long, arched doorway was no one but your own father. His drunken gaze skimmed over the crowd before instantly dropping on you. One quick and judgmental up and down look comprised his purpose; to make your life hell.

His suit was too tight on his body as he breathed sharply and made his way over to both you and Rafe. You avoided Rafe’s gaze entirely, not wanting to witness the narrow stare of his eyes.

“Dad!” You said softly, beginning to pull away from Rafe until he pulled you right back to him. Your fake smile must have been obvious because all you got from your father was a scoff and a judgmental glance before he stumbled into the party.

Rafe was already urging you out of the door by the time your mother came to tell you that it was time for cake, “your favorite!” She said with a squeal, motioning to a chocolate ice cream cake. 

Which wasn’t your favorite, but you’ve learned not to care. 

You got ushered to the large dining room, Rafe shuffling behind you and looking ready to kill anyone who took one step too close to your shaking body. All of your family surrounded the table, leaving barely enough room for you to fit in next to your fast-melting cake

A short and unorganized rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ was sung by the slurred voices of your family as you stood quietly, shyly smiling and feeling Rafe’s comforting hand holding yours. More cake was brought out to provide for all of the guests as your mother happily laughed with drunken joy.

Your piece was brought to you, a smaller slice than most. As you leaned down to grab your fork, you felt the plate leave your weak grip. Standing up in an instant, you were ready to pout at Rafe and tell him to get his own slice. However, you were met by your father’s mean and unforgiving stare.

“You don’t need… this.” He said plainly, obviously scanning your outfit and figure.

Tears swarmed your eyes as he spat more at you. Over time you had learned to tune him out, but you hadn’t heard his words for months now, nearly a year. 

“It’s disgusting that you walk into your mother’s house looking like a slut.” He said with a scoff, either unaware of the tears dripping down your face or choosing to ignore them (it was the latter).

“Thank god you have a boyfriend, hopefully he keeps you in your place.” Your father sneered as you vaguely watched Rafe push through the crowd to get back to you after he was pushed away in the cake swarm.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Your stare was blank when Rafe finally got to you, shoving your father away without hesitation and taking your purse from your slouching arm as he pulled you away from everyone. Rafe’s grip on your body was persistent as he took you through the house, through the front door, and eventually through his car door. You were still trying to tune out everything that had happened, proving to be non-responsive when Rafe begged you to answer his questions.

“C’mon princess, tell me what he said.” Rafe said through gritted teeth as one hand gripped his steering wheel with white knuckles and the other softly brushed over your palm.

The world was silent, your eyes deep and dull and you stared down at your pink heels when Rafe took you into Tannyhill.

“Hey, baby.. talk to me.” Rafe said gently, his thumbs already flicking away your tears as the two of you sat on the luxurious couch. His pleading voice eventually got back into your head and you nodded softly.

“Oh sweetheart..” Rafe whispered, starting to say something else before you let yourself fall back into him and bury yourself into his warm body. You hid away from the spiraling world as he whispered into your ear.

“I got you, princess. I’m here.” “Want you to only listen to my voice, don’t let him stay in your head.”

“I love you, sweetheart.” His lips peppered two soft kisses against both of your rosy, swollen cheeks before more tears poured out of your eyes. You were slowly coming back to yourself and Rafe couldn’t fully tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Your body came to you in small tremors, your poor shoulders shaking as your sweet and honey-like voice rasped over with deep sobs. Rafe held you close, whispering gently into your ear for a while, eventually feeling you relax into his arms.

“I’m sorry I… I just-“ You started, trying to apologize for your sudden outburst.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Focus on me.” Rafe said, kissing you softly and smiling as he felt your sticky lip gloss smear against his lips.

You smiled back, suddenly focused on the way he looked down at you, opening his mouth to tell you more.

“Aw look at that..” He said, kissing your smile and grinning into the gentle contact before pulling away.

“What did I do to deserve you..” He whispered with adoration in his eyes as he scooped you right back up and held you to his chest.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

[ohbueckers]

HEART OF A WOMAN. she has choices she should make i think she’s choosing it right now.

09, CHAPTER NINE. LET ME GO.

ju speaks. i sincerely apologize for the delay on this. i still think it’s poorly written despite the fact that i rewrote it so many times but i needed to get it out lol. i’m breaking hearts but i promise you’ll be somewhat satisfied with the ending. features some more crash out paige but more in a player’s prayer type of way… alsooo please vote on this. pairing. wnba!paige bueckers x female!oc. warnings. angst, maya appearance (she comes in peace)???

flashback, july 2022.

it feels like another lifetime—back when everything was louder, sharper. we were at that point where the distance between us wasn’t just physical but emotional, and it seemed like every call was another argument.

i almost didn’t make it to nai’s birthday in la that year. she was already stuck there because of her internship, and it was the one time she really wanted me there. we’d fought for days leading up to it, about God knows what, as usual. it always started with something small, like a misunderstanding or something i said without thinking, and then it snowballed. the kind of arguments that made you feel like you were suffocating in your own words, digging your heels in just to avoid apologizing.

but then… it was her birthday, and i couldn’t stand the thought of missing it, even though we couldn’t seem to stay on the same page. i almost said, fuck it, and didn’t go. but i knew i would regret it, so i pulled myself together and got on that damn plane.

i was in connecticut, locked into summer workouts with the team, drowning in exhaustion, trying to get through the motions and keep myself healthy. i kept putting off calling her, though, too busy wallowing in the mess we’d made, thinking about how far away we were, how it was easier to fight than make up.

but then that morning came. i called her in the middle of my frustration, half-hoping she’d just pick up and yell at me because, hell, i didn’t know how else to make things right. and when she did, when she finally answered and said she was waiting for me, everything felt like it clicked into place again.

we barely got to speak that day. the others were around, laughing, singing, but all i could do was watch her. nai. there she was, sitting across from me, a quiet storm in the way she held herself. i could’ve sworn everything about her felt like home in that moment, even when it was all so messed up. and when they started singing “happy birthday,” she was still just the only damn thing i could focus on. how she looked. how she sounded. how she made everything feel like it was meant to be, even when we were fighting for our lives.

i was supposed to be done with her. more importantly, she was supposed to be done with me. i told myself that a million times. but the truth was, the more she tried to leave it all behind, the harder it got to stay away.

and all i could think was, i’m not done with you. i’m never going to be done with you.

present day, july 2025.

“you still watching her?”

rickea’s voice broke through, her sneakers squeaking against the court as i dribbled my ball against the hardwood almost absentmindedly. it’s a game day. crew is here, some of the team, but kea, cam and i had been about an hour earlier than shoot around just for the hell of it.

“i’m not watching her,” i snapped back with a low grunt, lining up my jumper. it bounced right off the rim, almost to taunt me, and i didn’t miss the way rickea’s smirk widened. my head isn’t in this game. it probably won’t be by the time seven rolls around either.

i was watching. too hard. nai had noticed only once, and instead of waving me off or sending me a smile, she looked away and pretended it didn’t even happen.

“yeah, okay. so how’d you know i was talking about nai?”

i shot kea a side glance, annoyed that she’d even said her name out loud. “got her there,” cam chimed in, strolling over from the other side of the court with her own ball. she leaned against it, watching me with an all-too-knowing grin. “you two been a little quiet lately.”

i hesitated for just a second. not long enough for anyone else to notice—at least, i hoped not—but just enough to think about the silence between nai and me. quiet wasn’t even the word for it. it was like being stuck in a purgatory i couldn’t escape, knowing exactly what i wanted to say but being too damn scared to say it.

i hated how easily my thoughts drifted to her, even now, with kea and cam prying at me. i could still feel the last conversation we had replaying in my head—the way her words had cut deeper than she probably even realized. she probably didn’t even mean for them to. she said it like she didn’t. no more half-steps.

i know what i want.

i don’t know if i’m capable of getting it and keeping it.

and i couldn’t keep expecting her to wait around for me to figure it out.

“it’s called being busy,” i shot back, offering a forced smile that would hopefully get them off my back. it didn’t. “you know, prepping for a game? the thing we’re all ‘posed to be doing right now?”

“yeah, we’re busy,” cam said, dragging out the word like it was some great revelation. “but you’re distracted, and we know why.” she raised an eyebrow, looking like she was having way too much fun at my expense. “when was the last time you two even talked?”

“oh, wait,” kea interjected, putting a hand to her ear like she was trying to remember something. “was it that awkward ‘hi’ in the tunnel yesterday? or did you manage a full sentence this time?”

“ha, ha,” i deadpanned, dribbling my ball almost aggressively to drown them out. “check up, bro. let’s see who’s focused,” i said with the smuggest smile on my face, tossing the ball to rickea and squaring up in front of her.

“you’ve got a lot of nerve for someone who been bricking shots all morning,” kea pointed an accusatory finger at me, and i rolled my eyes, pulling up my joggers.

“less talk.”

she jab-stepped left, then tried to blow past me, but i was ready, cutting her off with a quick shuffle to the side. “nah,” i mumbled, poking the ball loose and snagging it before she could recover. “try again next time.”

“you’re feeling yourself now, huh?” kea challenged, jogging back to defend as i dribbled toward the hoop.

“always,” i shot back, faking right before crossing over to my left. i breezed past her and went up for an easy layup, the ball spinning perfectly off the backboard before dropping through the net.

as soon as my feet hit the ground, i turned to cam, sticking my tongue out at her like a kid who just won a playground game, sticking a big, fat ‘L’ on my forehead. “too slow!” i said, grinning as i jogged backward toward the three-point line.

“one layup isn’t a highlight reel!”

i was about to fire back when it happened—nai walked by on the sideline, clipboard in hand, her focus seemingly on the players warming up. but just as i turned to look, she glanced my way and caught me mid-stare. she didn’t look away this time, and before i could think too much about it, she gave me a smile. not one of her usual polite, professional smiles, but something softer. brief but intimate, just enough to pull me in and spit me right back out when she turned away again. it was so quick, i almost convinced myself it didn’t happen.

my heart did this annoying little flip, and i nearly tripped over my own feet as i turned back to the game. the ball rickea had passed came flying toward me, smacking me lightly in the chest.

“oh, my God, we lost her again.”

the door to the supply room squeaked as i nudged it open with my shoulder, balancing a stack of extra towels in one hand and my clipboard in the other. game days were always crazy—organized crazy, thanks to me—but i was good at it. every minute was accounted for, every detail triple-checked. there was no room to think about anything else, and i liked it that way.

setting the towels on the shelf, i glanced down at my clipboard, double-checking the inventory count against my list. the sound of faint footsteps caught my attention, and i glanced over my shoulder. my heart dropped—i think to my ass—when i saw her.

maya.

she hovered in the doorway, hands shoved into her jacket pockets, her expression hesitant. it was a strange look for her—maya never hesitated. she moved like she always knew exactly where she stood, always so sure. but now? now she just looked… conflicted. i think everything that happened knocked her down a notch.

my first instinct was to tell her to leave, but i refrained. “hey,” i said finally, turning fully to face her. my eyes narrowed slightly as i studied her. “what’s up?”

she stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind her, and suddenly the room felt smaller. “can we talk for a second?” she asked, shifting on her feet.

i leaned back against the shelf, crossing my arms over my chest. “talk about what?”

maya hesitated, her eyes flickering to… well, everything but me before meeting mine again. “about everything,” she said softly, almost like she wasn’t sure the words would come out. “about… you, me, paige. all of it.”

“you don’t have to do this.”

“i think i do,” she replied quickly, almost too quickly, like she’d been waiting for the chance to say it. “i just… i wanted to say i’m sorry, nai. for everything. for how it all played out.”

i studied her for a moment, trying to gauge how much of this was for me and how much of it was for her. “i should’ve told you.” still, it was hard to hold onto any lingering anger when she looked at me like that—like she genuinely meant it. “about me and paige. i shouldn’t have kept it from you, maya. that was fucked up.”

maya’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes dropping to the floor for a moment. “yeah,” she said softly, almost like she hadn’t expected me to admit it. “maybe. but i wasn’t exactly innocent either.” she glanced back. “i should’ve walked away when i realized.”

“realized what?” i asked, tilting my head, though i already had a feeling i knew the answer.

her laugh was small, humorless. “i mean… it was obvious, nai.”

i froze, still gaining the nerve to ask, “obvious how?”

maya raised a brow, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “oh, you’re serious.” she shook her head lightly, as if the answer should’ve been clear. “even when you weren’t saying it out loud, it was all over your faces. the way you talked to each other, the way you didn’t.”

i feel terrible. “maya—“

“it’s not a dig,” she interrupted, holding up her hands. “it’s just… the way you two are. it’s not something you can really hide, nai. trust me, i tried to ignore it. thought maybe i was overthinking or projecting or whatever. but i wasn’t.”

i swallowed, hard, trying to find the right words, but nothing felt like enough. maya sighed, leaning back against the door like she was anchoring herself there.

“look,” she said, softening her words up as if i was fragile. “i get it. you don’t owe me anything. but i wanted to tell you that i talked to paige.”

my head snapped up at that, her name alone making my heart skip. “you did?”

maya nodded, her eyes steady on me. “on the phone a few nights ago. i needed to get it off my chest, you know? everything that went down… it was a mess. and i don’t think paige even realized how much of it was on her until we talked.”

i nodded, and she continued.

maya squinted at me. “paige said she loves you.” the words didn’t sound new. paige had been telling me she’s loved me since high school—sometimes with her words, sometimes with her actions, and sometimes in the quiet spaces between. so why did it strike me like a blow this time? “and i believe her. but… i don’t know. does it ever feel like she only tries when she’s scared you’ll leave?”

my breath caught, and for a moment, i couldn’t think of anything to say. the question wasn’t meant to hurt me—at least, it didn’t feel that way—but it landed right where it was supposed to. deep, direct, in the places i tried not to think about too much. i was immediately defensive. “you can’t—“

maya tilted her head slightly, studying me like she was trying to figure out how much of this i already knew. “maybe not. but it’s worth asking, isn’t it?”

i wanted to deny it. to tell her she didn’t understand, that she didn’t see the weekends during college, the little moments that no one else got to witness. the times when paige showed up, not because she was scared of losing me but because she wanted to be there.

but maya wasn’t entirely wrong, was she? there were times when it felt like paige’s love came in waves—strong and all-encompassing when the fear of losing me loomed, and quieter, more distant, when she felt secure. it wasn’t that she didn’t love me; it was just… complicated.

“she tries,” i said finally, convincing myself of it. “paige does try. maybe it’s not perfect, but she loves me. i know that.”

maya’s lips pressed into a thin line. “i just needed to say that. to let you know i’m sorry for my part in all of this. and… i hope it works out. for you and paige.”

i could see the sincerity in her eyes. she wasn’t here to stir the pot or make things worse. she was here because she cared, even if her timing was terrible.

“thanks,” i said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

and then she was gone, leaving me alone in the supply room with her words ringing in my ears. i leaned back against the shelf, closing my eyes as the weight of it all settled over me.

maya’s voice played on a loop in my mind: paige only knows how to love when she’s afraid of losing something.

and for the first time, i wondered if maya was right.

i’d gotten to the office earlier than usual, telling myself it was because i had work to do. but really, i just wanted to be alone. birthdays used to mean something, but now they felt more like a reminder of how much had changed. the kind of day where you couldn’t help but take stock of everything and everyone in your life—who was still there, who wasn’t, and who only came around when it suited them.

my desk was a mess of papers and sticky notes i didn’t feel like sorting through. i kept staring at my laptop screen, pretending to work while my mind wandered. i thought about the flowers that would probably show up later from people i barely spoke to. the texts i’d get from coworkers who’d remember because of a calendar alert. and, of course, i thought about paige.

the no-contact rule was still in place, and even though i knew she was respecting it, part of me still wondered if that was her way of playing it safe. keeping distance until she was sure i wasn’t going anywhere. that had always been how it felt between us, and i couldn’t help but think that today, of all days, would be the one day she might break the silence.

and i was right. “we can make an exception for a national holiday, right?” she teased.

there she was, leaning in the doorway, a bouquet of flowers in her hands. her grey nike tech was speckled with rain droplets, her hood pulled up but not doing much to hide the strands of blonde hair sticking to her forehead. still, her eyes found mine instantly, scanning me like she was trying to read me before i even said a word.

“paige,” i dragged out, my name on her lips almost like a scolding, but the slow upturn of my smile completely gave me away.

she bit back her own grin, her lip caught between her teeth. “happy birthday, nai.”

i stood up, the flowers still in her hand as i crossed the space between us. she handed them to me without a word, and i hugged her almost instinctively. she was still damp from the rain, but it didn’t matter.

“you’re very early,” i said into her shoulder, my words muffled.

“nah, this is perfectly timed,” she replied, pulling back slightly but keeping her hands on my shoulders. her thumbs pressed gently into them like she knew how tense i’d been all morning. “besides, i didn’t wanna risk showing up and missing you.”

i rolled my eyes playfully. “you think i’d skip out on my own birthday?”

she smirked. “i dunno. you don’t exactly seem excited about it.”

“hmm,” i paused, screwing my eyes shut as i leaned into the massage. “it’s too early to be excited,” i shot back.

“fair,” she settled, tilting her head as her thumbs hit just the right spots. “nika and them flyin’ in today.”

that pulled a genuine smile at me. she mentioned it a bit ago, how some of her old teammates would be coming to see her play soon. “yeah? when’re they landing?”

“this afternoon. nika texted me last night about it,” paige said, and i can’t help but think about how good we are at this small talk thing. it’s so easy to get lost in what feels normal. “we play storm in two days, so… figured we’d spend some time together before the game.”

i nodded, knowing nika had been one of the constants in paige’s life since their freshman year at uconn, and i’d always admired the way their friendship seemed to hold its own weight, no matter what else was happening around them.

“i’m assuming you wanna see them,” paige added.

“duh,” i replied easily, cracking one eye open to give her a pointed look.

“i’ll set sum’ up,” she replied, and i nodded. her hands stayed on my shoulders, pausing just long enough to tap them before stepping back. “you good? you seem… off.”

i hesitated, caught off guard by the question even though i shouldn’t have been. paige had always been good at reading me, sometimes better than i wanted her to be. “yeah,” i said quickly, too quickly. “just… long morning already.”

“mmhm,” she replied, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t push. instead, she leaned against the edge of my desk, her hands slipping into the pockets of her hoodie.

“you sure?” she asked again after a moment, and i knew i wouldn’t be getting away with saying nothing.

she stated at me, and i found my lies slipping away. my mouth fell wider with each passing second, and when her eyes darted to my lips, i seemed to snap up out of it, busying myself with the tax of fixing an already perfect vase of flowers onto my desk. “i just—i talked to maya.”

i could hear paige shift in front of me before letting out a quiet chuckle. “okay,” she said, dragging the word out like she already knew where this was going. “what she say?”

her tone was casual, but when i looked up at her fully turned figure, she had that look in her eyes—guarded, careful, like she was already bracing herself. “nothing bad,” i started, furrowing my eyebrows. “just… stuff about us. about how things went down.”

paige raised a brow, crossing her arms over her chest as she tilted her head slightly. “uh-huh. like what?”

“like how it always feels like you only show up when you’re afraid of losing something.”

i couldn’t help but watch her, waiting for her reaction. for her to say something, anything.

paige’s posture shifted immediately, her arms tightening over her chest as her lips pressed into a thin line. “you letting her feed you bullshit again, nai?” she asked.

“don’t do that. it’s not bullshit,” i replied. “it’s how it feels sometimes.”

“to who? you?” she challenged, taking a step closer. her eyes searched mine, narrowing slightly, but there was no malice in them—just frustration. “or maya? ’cause she loves spinning her little stories, and you know that.”

“paige.” i sighed, shaking my head as i tried to keep the conversation from spiraling. i didn’t exactly want to argue. “this isn’t about maya. it’s about me, about us.”

“nah, you just said you talked to her,” paige shot back, gesturing vaguely toward me. “and now you’re standing here like she knows me better than you do. like she knows us better than we do,” she argued, adding a, “c’mon, that’s not fair.”

“isn’t it, though?” i asked, meeting her gaze head-on. “you’re here now, but only because it’s my birthday. because you knew i’d expect you to show up.”

paige’s eyes flickered away for a split second, down to her pocket, before snapping back to mine. “you really think that’s the only reason i’m here?”

i didn’t say anything. i didn’t need to—the look on my face must’ve told her everything.

her shoulders dropped slightly, and she let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “that’s crazy, nai. you know that’s crazy, right?”

“it’s not about how i see you, pai—“

her expression had hardened, like she’d put up a wall i couldn’t reach past. “you know what? maybe you’re right. maybe this whole thing is just me showing up when it’s convenient.”

“you know that’s not what i meant.”

“nah,” she cut me off, stepping back toward the door. “if that’s how you feel, then what am i even doing here? clearly, it don’t matter.”

“it does matter,” i said quickly, but the words didn’t seem to land. fuck, i’m an idiot.

“not to you, it don’t,” she replied, her voice clipped. she paused for a second, her hand on the doorknob, before turning back to look at me. “it’s cool. you got your flowers. happy birthday, nai.”

and just like that, she was gone. the click of the door felt louder than it should’ve, and i stood there, staring at the empty space she left behind, wondering how we managed to end up here—again.

“nai… she… fuck, nika.”

i swirled the half-melted ice in my glass. the bourbon wasn’t hitting the way i needed it to, but it was definitely hitting. i don’t drink fucking bourbon. i’m sure i’d drink about a gallon of it right now though. “we had this argument earlier. it’s like she doesn’t see how hard i’m trying, you know? like she’s convinced i only show up when i’m scared i’m losing her or something.”

nika leaned back in her seat, eyebrows raised. “those her words, or yours?” she asked, the corners of her mouth twitching.

“hers,” i mumbled, tipping the glass back for a too-big sip.

“damn.” right!?

i scrubbed a hand down my face, leaning into the bar like it could hold me up. my stomach twisted, and for once, it wasn’t from the alcohol. “she just—she don’t get it, you know? like, yeah, i fucked up before, but i’m trying now. i’m really trying, and she doesn’t even see it. she doesn’t even try to see it. at least i’m trying, like—“

“maybe ease up on the drink first before you start spiraling,” azzi cut in from the other side of the bar. she was nursing a soda, her judgmental stare boring into me like an older sister i didn’t ask for.

i shot her a glare. “you’re ‘posed to be team paige.”

“i am team paige,” she said, crossing her arms and smiling sweetly. i stuck my tongue out at her.

the bar in nika’s hotel was louder than i expected for a wednesday night. maybe it was the group of us taking up the corner table, or maybe it was just me being on edge. i felt like i was moving through the motions, laughing when everyone else did, nodding along to conversations i wasn’t really following.

it all started to show as soon as the alcohol kicked in. i could feel myself slipping, letting it take me to that reckless place i always ended up in when it came to her. i stared at my phone, the glow of the screen blurring slightly as i typed out another text. i didn’t care if she was out, if she was at her party surrounded by people who probably cared more than i ever showed. i just needed her to hear me.

and here i was, sitting in a damn hotel bar, drunk as hell, making everything worse just because i couldn’t leave her alone. but i texted.

and texted and texted and texted.

paige: so youure just gonna ignore me? 10:21pm

bet

paige: you wouldnr even be mad rn if you just let me fix it 10:24pm

but you don’t rven want to let me try bro

paige: i hate when we don’t talk 10:26pm

can we talk?

the words blurred slightly as i reread them, but i didn’t delete anything. instead, i kept going, typing out every thought that popped into my head, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

paige: please baby jus wanna hear your voice 10:27pm

paige: i came w my mind made uo today 10:31pm

i just couldn’t sau it i’m so sorry

could’nt give it to you

delivered. delivered. delivered. not a single one read.

my phone buzzed in my hand, and for a second, i thought it was another notification. but no—her name lit up the screen, a call coming through. my heart jumped into my throat. i stared at it, frozen, until it rang out.

“shit,” i mumbled, fumbling with the phone as i stumbled out of my seat.

nika grabbed my arm to steady me. “where you going?”

“outside,” i mumbled, shoving my phone into my hoodie pocket.

the rain hit me as soon as i stepped out, the cold shocking enough to sober me up just a little. i ducked under the hotel’s awning, the noise of the rain hitting the roof above me almost drowning out the sound of my phone. my fingers shook as i called her back. the phone rang once, twice, three times before going to voicemail. i swore, pulling my hand into my jacket pocket.

well, the first call goes to voicemail.

the second one does too.

i try a third time, pacing.

finally, the line clicks. “paige,” nai says, and i can hear the hesitance in her voice. i can hear it, and i hate that i put it there.

“nai,” i breathe, her name coming out in a rush. the rain’s loud on my end, and i know she can hear it. “i—i’m sorry, okay? just—please don’t hang up. i had to talk to you. i can’t… i can’t keep doin’ this, fuck—“

“you’re drunk?” she asks flatly. i could hear the music in the background, and i conclude that she probably hadn’t seen my texts.

“you’re mad at me…” i continued. “i get it… i walked out on you, but you could barely look at me today, and—“

“paige, shut up. where are you?”

“outside nika’s hotel,” i muttered, wiping my face with my sleeve even though it didn’t help.

“stay there,” she said, and the line went dead.

a party hadn’t been my only surprise tonight. hell, it hadn’t been my only surprise of the entire day.

i should’ve been celebrating, right? enjoying the fact that people cared enough to throw me this party, that everyone had gathered in one place for me. but all i could think about was paige. and everything that came with her.

i hadn’t expected to hear from her at all tonight, let alone get the damn text messages that practically screamed desperation. though, half of me still passed on the alcohol for tonight as some kind of gut feeling. i knew she was drunk. i could tell from her words—hell, i could tell from the way she sent them in a blur, as if she couldn’t hold the phone still long enough to type a single coherent sentence.

i should’ve been upset. angry even. all those stupid things she’d done, all the mess she’d made, all the times she’d promised to change and then didn’t—it all came rushing back. i should’ve been furious. but there i was, standing in the middle of a damn party, my damn party, staring at my phone like it held the answers to every question i’d ever asked.

and then came the call.

it wasn’t even a question of if i would answer. i couldn’t not.

“nai,” her voice came through, shaky and full of guilt. “i—i’m sorry, okay? just—please don’t hang up. i had to talk to you. i can’t… i can’t keep doin’ this, fuck—”

i had to step away from the group. i couldn’t focus on anything but her voice, the sound of it cracking through the static, pulling at something deep inside me. the music in the background was too loud, but i heard every word she said.

“you’re drunk?” i asked, my voice flat, trying not to let the frustration leak through.

“you’re mad at me…” she trailed off, and i knew exactly where this was going.

her text messages had been pleading, full of “baby, please”s and “i’m sorry”s, but this? this felt different. it wasn’t just her trying to get me to forgive her. it was her trying to convince me to fully let her in again. it was her realizing i was slipping. again.

and there couldn’t have been any more confirmation.

i drove through the rain, the windshield wipers squeaking as they tried to clear the downpour. i pulled in front of the hotel’s awning, the lights from the sign reflecting on the wet pavement. i killed the engine and just sat there for a moment, my fingers gripping the steering wheel as i took a deep breath.

the knock on my window pulled me from my thoughts. i glanced up, and there was nika, standing in the rain, her coat pulled tightly around her. i rolled the window down just enough to hear her.

“she’s over there,” nika said, nodding towards the edge of the awning, her finger pointing to one of the hotel’s pillars. “she wouldn’t come inside or anything until you got here.”

i stared at the spot for a second. the rain was coming down so hard, the air was cold for it being summer, and paige was still out there, waiting. waiting for me. i didn’t know if that made it worse or better.

“thanks,” i muttered, forcing a tight smile. nika didn’t say anything else, just gave me a quick nod before heading back inside. i guess she figured this wasn’t a time for pleasantries.

i got out of the car, the rain immediately soaking through the jacket i threw over the nice blouse cam had gifted me. i could hear paige before i saw her, her voice cutting through the sound of the rain.

“nai, baby, look, i swear i didn’t mean to fuck everything up—”

“paige,” i interrupted. i couldn’t let her ramble on, not like this. “you don’t need to explain anything right now. just—”

“no, no, just listen! i’m so sorry,” she cut me off again. she took a step closer, and i pushed at her hips, trying to keep her at a distance. “i know i messed up. i know i fucked up, so many times. but—fuck, nai, i’m here. i’m here right now, and i’m gonna make this right. you don’t really believe maya, do you?”

this was a side of paige i hadn’t seen in a long time. she wasn’t trying to be strong, wasn’t trying to prove a point. she was just…asking.

“i believe you,” i stated plainly, avoiding her eyes as i tried to pull her toward the car.

paige’s shoulders dropped, her brows furrowing as she complied to my pulling. “you’re lying.”

i exhaled sharply, finally getting somewhere as i wrapped my fingers gently around her wrist. “i want you to get in the car.”

“i don’t… wanna get in the car, bro. i wanna talk.”

“we can talk in the car,” i insisted, not wanting to drag this out any longer. it was already too much.

paige dragged her feet along the pavement, her rambles continuing, making it harder to get her to the passenger seat in a timely matter. “you look so good tonight.” “fuck.” “i’m sorry for ruining your night.” “i didn’t mean to mess this up.”

finally, i opened the passenger door, and paige slid in with a small, unsteady huff, like she was relieved to be inside. i crouched down beside the door, lowering myself to her level as i reached for the seatbelt.

paige shifted slightly, still muttering under her breath, her words blurred together in the same cycle of regret and self-reproach. “i’m gonna fix this. i promise i will.”

“i don’t need you to,” i said, my voice barely above a whisper as i clicked the seatbelt into place, making sure it was secure. paige paused, and i tightened the strap for her, putting my focus solely on that.

“what? i know…” she hiccuped, shifting again as she tugged on the zipper of her jacket, scrunching her face up like the fabric had been bothering her. i reached out and helped her get it off her arms, the motion feeling almost automatic. “i haven’t been the best girlfriend, ex.. whatever.”

“it’s fine.”

“it’s not fine.” and she said it again, almost as if to tell the truth for both of us. “it’s not fine and… i’m gonna do right by you, swear, baby.” her words trailed off into another hiccup as she looked at me, her eyes pleading. i didn’t respond.

i’m sick of words. so sick of fucking words.

“did you have a good birthday?” she continued, her voice small now, and i could tell she was getting tired too. “i know i’ve been a mess—”

“it’s okay,” i said, my tone flat, trying not to let her guilt weigh on me. “we’ll talk when you’re sober.”

“nai, i just need to—” she started, but i cut her off, shaking my head.

“we can get everything straight… when you’re sober. not now.”

her face fell. “i got you a promise ring,” she blurted out, her eyes wide and frantic. “i was gonna give it to you. but i… i couldn’t. i couldn’t, nai, i was gonna do it today. i really was, but i didn’t know how.”

i was frozen for a moment. “what?” the word came out before i could stop it. i blinked, trying to process what she was saying. “promise ring? you… had a ring for me?”

i stayed silent, my chest tight as i processed everything she was saying. the ring, the flowers, her promises. it all felt like a cruel reminder of everything i had to let go. everything we had been and everything that we weren’t anymore.

paige hiccupped, the alcohol causing her words to slur further. “yeah… had it in my pocket. i came all ready to give it to you, but… i couldn’t. just couldn’t.”

“paige, stop it,” i finally whispered, my voice breaking slightly. i finally looked at her. really looked at her before attempting to get up. “you’re embarrassing yourself.”

her face faltered, but she didn’t let go of me, her hands trembling as she reached for my face, pulling me closer. “what do you want, nai?” the way she said it... “you want me to stop showing up? you want me to leave you alone? ‘cause i can do that. i can leave you alone. i can do that if that’s what you really want.” the way she pleads like she’ll do anything, has me on the verge of believing it.

my heart pounded in my chest. she was still holding onto this idea, this hope that i could come back. her eyes softened, and she leaned in closer, like she was trying to get through to me, but it felt suffocating.

“just let me go, paige,” i said, my voice hoarse. “let me go. please,” i muttered, lolling my head to try and get out of her grasp. i pressed my hand into her thigh, steadying myself on the ground.

her hands only gripped my face tighter, her thumb running over my jaw, her touch too familiar to the first time. too much.

silence. and then, “that’s what you want?”

i closed my eyes, trying to ignore the way her hands felt on my cheeks. the way her voice cracked, desperate and pleading, it hit something deep inside me. no, i wanted to say. no, i don’t want this. but living a lie had been outdated.

“yes,” i finally managed.

her thumb slid up under my eye, gently brushing away a tear that escaped. “look at me when you say it.”

no. no, no, no.

“look at me, nai. tell me you mean it,” she repeated.

i mean it. the words felt heavy, like they were being dragged out of me, but they were the only thing that made sense anymore.

i lifted my eyes slowly, meeting hers. “i mean it,” i said, barely a breath, but enough for her to hear. “i need you to let go, paige.”

for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the rain against the pavement and our uneven breaths. her grip didn’t loosen at first, like she was weighing the words, like she was holding onto the last shred of something she didn’t want to let go of.

but then, just like that, she pulled her hands away from my face, the movement stiff and mechanical. her eyes became empty, almost like they were looking right through me. she didn’t say anything—didn’t try to argue, didn’t plead. she just withdrew, the shift in her demeanor so abrupt it was as if the weight of everything we had was just… gone.

“okay.”

i turned then, slowly at first, and then more decisively as i made my way back to the driver’s seat, the rain still coming down hard around us. i didn’t look back, even though i felt her eyes on me, even though i knew she was still there.

after so many tries, i realized i couldn’t do this again. i couldn’t let her in.

and for the first time in what felt like forever, i let go, and it felt… right?

[literaila]

could you write a really fluffy peter Parker fic for Valentine’s Day (with banter ofc)

valentine, oh mine

tasm!peter x reader

a/n: this is not cute or fun or any of the things i aspire to be. it is painful. peter dies (he doesn’t). don’t read this.

*

“will you be my valentine?”

“hello, peter,” you answer, through your toothbrush. the words are deadpan. “i’m doing well, thank you. how are you?”

“better if you answer the question.”

you laugh, letting his response linger for a moment as you try to discern where, exactly, he is. your mouth tastes like spearmint, and it would be perfect to kiss him with. even though it’s monday, and almost midnight, and he shouldn’t be here.

for a whole multitude of reasons (number one being that you know he’ll keep you awake for at least a couple of hours more).

“where are you?” you ask him, listening to ruffling and a whine from the other end.

a manly whine, he might tell you, if you could see his face and make fun of it.

“stop deflecting. you don’t wanna be my valentine?” you can hear the frown.

and then there’s a horn, signaling absolutely nothing.

you spit into the sink, and put him on speaker as you rinse.

“i’ve gotta say that this is one of the more underwhelming valentine proposals i’ve gotten. you’re not even here. instead you’re…” you drawl, “where, again?”

“this is just further proof that i’m always thinking about you,” peter tells you, recalling an argument you’d had the day prior.

about how he wasn’t paying attention to you—or the conversation you were trying to have with him about one of your coworkers—but instead, according to him, thinking about you.

which did not help his case, of course. instead you’d given him the silence treatment for three minutes while he groveled—poorly.

and you doubt that he was thinking about valentine’s day when his eyes were glued to your lips the entire time.

“again,” you tell him, trying to hide the sound of a smile in your voice, “i would rather you just listen to me. answer my question and i’ll answer yours,” you bargain.

“how’s that fair? i asked first.”

“i asked second.”

peter sighs, and there’s a brief pause where he breaks up. you mess with the sound settings to no avail. up or down, his voice is distorted.

“are you—“ his voice wonders. “i was gonna tell you—“ and then a pause. and then. “are you giving me the silent treatment again?”

“cant hear you,” you hum. “somethings wrong with your phone.”

“how do you know it’s mine?” his voice enters again, breaking back and forth. another honking, and silence as he puts himself on mute.

because you’re no fool, and you know that peter would’ve answered the question already—if only to get you to answer his—if he didn’t know that you’d scold him for it.

“cause i can hear the wind while you swing,” you tease, though swallow, your voice is aiding the anger you should feel—because your boyfriend is a liar, and a traitor and you kinda hate him.

but you’re not really angry. you haven’t seen him since he left your house at six in the morning, so that’s probably why.

“i—“ there’s a pause. and then his voice is clear again. “that’s my hairdryer.”

“are you lying to me, peter?”

“it might even be the connection,” he continues, idly. “may’s been complaining about the service but i’ve been too busy to check the box, so—“

“are you still lying to me?”

you can almost see him swallow. “…no?”

“i told you not to call me when you’re out.”

“so you never want me to call you?” he asks, mock hurt. “when i’m not out, i’m always with you. i thought you liked my phone calls, and my voice if my memory serves me. someone really liked it—“

“you know what i mean.”

“do i?”

“peter parker, unless you want me to hang up—“

“okay, okay,” there’s still no swinging. “i’m sorry.”

“no, you’re not,” you whine, sitting on your bed and listening closely so he can’t trick you again.

“i actually am this time,” he swears. “i won’t do it again. but this is a very important matter.”

“swinging while talking is basically like texting and driving, and if i was doing that i’d be getting an earful from you.”

“it’s so not the same thing. first of all, spider senses, please keep up,” he tells you, laughing. “and who am i going to hurt in the open air?”

“a pigeon,” you say, almost angrily. “they’re an endangered species, you idiot.”

“they’re definitely not.”

“okay, then, yourself. who’s going to be my valentine if you slam into a wall and crack your head open?”

peter would not look cute without his skull, you remain firm on this fact.

you can hear his smile. “i knew you wanted to be my valentine.”

“before i knew you were lying to me.”

“you lie to me all of the time,” peter argues.

your brows furrow. “when?”

“when you said that you don’t like it when i call you,” he murmurs, almost soft, still teasing. “i know you do. you miss me.”

“i miss my boyfriend,” you answer, biting back some other remark about how you don’t miss him at all—honestly, you’re trying to prove that you’re not lying. “but apparently i’m talking to a superhero.”

“oh, did i forget to mention that? must’ve slipped my mind.”

“where are you now?” you ask. “it’s quiet.”

and then there’s a tap on the wall to your right.

“peter…”

“yes?”

“is that you?”

“maybe.”

“are you kidding?” you grumble, crawling on your knees to push back the curtains and open the window. you frown as you unlatch it, hands interrupted by other ones, doing the same thing. “how long have you been sitting out here?”

“since ‘are you lying?’ i think.” he says, in a terrible impression of your voice. “it’s cold.”

you pull him in by his wrist, immediately pushing him off when he tries to land on your bed on top of you.

peter pulls his mask off, smiling at you. “hi.”

“i’m mad. go take a shower.”

his fingers tip-toe up your arm, trying to get you to shiver. “are you really?” he hums.

“yes.”

“how can i make it up to you?”

“find me a better, non-lying valentine,” you tell him, pouting as you look away.

“is this supposed to be an answer?”

“why didn’t you just wait?” you ask instead. “if you were going to come here anyway, why didn’t you ask me in person instead of being a disappointment, and breaking a rule?”

“i don’t recall signing a contract…”

you groan, sitting up and crossing your legs as you look at him. unfortunately for you, his hair has fallen over his eyes just right, and you still want to kiss him.

“take me seriously.”

“i take everything you say,” he leans in, “very seriously.”

you push his nose. “you don’t.”

“i do!” he swears, grabbing your hand. “i’m listening. tell me what’s wrong.”

he says this condescendingly, because you already told him—kind of—but he knows that if you have to repeat it, you’ll break.

“this is why they say familiarity breeds contempt.”

peter smiles. “are you feeling contemptful right now?”

you nod.

he leans again, and you cant push him away. “how can i help?”

“you can apologize.”

peter’s smile grows softer as you look at him with eyes of steel, like he finds this version of you cute. your pout and your false anger, all bundled up into one perfect package.

just for him, you suppose.

he leans in some more, “i’m sorry,” he says, softly, just brushing your lips. “i was excited.”

you purse your lips, even while his are soft and teasing against them. it feels kind of like a feather brushing your skin, like peters got his own secret form of tickling you.

teasing you, like he always does. familiarity breeds contempt, and comfort, and confusion, and…

he kisses you fully, this time. a gentle peck. “i wanted to hear your voice,” he admits. “i’m impatient. i should listen to you more.”

“right…” you whisper, with him, as your only form of acknowledgement.

“i won’t call you while i’m out, okay? or i’ll pause somewhere.”

your brows are permanently fixed together. “don’t pause. just… get some headphones, or something.” you let your lips relax, finally, and they fall against his just as a consequence. “i like your voice too,” you admit, quietly, as an afterthought.

peters smile is bashful. “like wireless ones? not sure how that would work under the mask…”

“you made the suit,” you tell him, leaning back. “you cant figure it out, genius?”

“i’ll do it for you, i guess,” he sighs, but his fingertips trace the skin on both of your arms, simply because he’s that close.

“thank you.”

“are we done fighting now?”

you frown, pushing his hands away so you can cross your arms. “no. you really asked me to be your valentine over the phone?”

peter sighs, shaking his head. “i knew i should’ve gone with the skywriting.”

“or,” you say, rhetorically, “i don’t know, maybe a box of chocolates? flowers? a quick ‘hey, will you be my valentine?’ before you left this morning?”

“that’s so lame.”

“so is asking me over the phone.”

“i was excited,” peter argues. “i wanted an answer.”

“well you didn’t get one.”

“yes i did,” he tells you, finally grabbing your arm so he can pull you on top of him (because seriously, this is unfair).

“no.”

“you said i was your valentine,” he reminds you, tilting your head up so you’re looking at him.

“you’re mine,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “i never said i was yours.”

“wow,” peter murmurs. “that might be the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“please. i called you a vermin to may the other day.”

he pouts, childishly.

“ask me nicely,” you say, after a moment.

“i did.”

“ask me nicely again.”

there’s a pause where two stubborn people meet at a head—literally, head to head—and consider the prospects of losing this battle.

but peter is softer than you are, when you tease a smile on your lips, he breaks. “will you be my valentine?”

“hmm,” you ponder, looking away. “i’ll think about it. i mean, there’s a lot of options to choose from.”

peter bites your nose in retaliation and the two of you laugh until you’re dizzy

*

[foldingfittedsheets]

A silly holiday story time:

At thanksgiving one year my family had all gathered at my nana’s house for the family meal. My family are… not cooks. In more recent years I’ve had to warn my betrothed to lower their expectations of what we’re going to be fed. They hear the menu and think, well that sounds okay only to eat the blandest most poorly cooked food to ever shame our ancestors.

But the year in question I was still but a teenager and had not yet learned better food existed. I knew next to nothing about cooking, nor did my nana, so I was vaguely puzzled when she volunteered to cook a turkey.

It was good fortune really that I was in the kitchen when she came to check on it. I watched quietly while she opened the oven and made a sound of disgust at the juices surrounding the bird in its pan. She opened the oven door wider. She looked from the oven to her trash can. She looked back in the oven.

“Are you- uh- are you thinking to pour that juice in the trash?”

“Yeah! It’s gross, I’m just trying to figure out how.”

I, with my mere seventeen years of life experience looked at my fully grown wizened grandparent in bafflement. “If you pour that in the trash it’s going to melt through the bag, and also probably through the trash can itself? It’s really hot?”

She looked surprised to hear this basic law of thermodynamics, looking at the bubbling well of turkey fat as if seeing it for the first time. She then turned back to me, a child who had never learned to cook, “Well what am I supposed to do with it?”

“I think you leave it there? And-“

What I said next was cobbled together from television, pop culture, and American teens fixation on the hilarity of the tool for sex jokes-

“I think you baste it? There’s like a thing you get the juice in to squirt back on the top?”

She made a thoughtful hmm and closed the oven again, wandering back into the living room. I took a moment to imagine the alternate timeline where my family cleaned burning hot fat and melted plastic off the floor.

By and by our underwhelming dinner was completed and we tucked in. My mom keeps chickens so as we finished our food we put all our scraps into a big bowl that was going to the birds. We filled it with dry under seasoned turkey, stuffing, unfinished mashed potatoes, half eaten dinner rolls, etc.

As we were all lounging in contented fullness my brother finally arrived. Being older he had the luxury of showing up to family events hours late. He greeted everyone and went to fix himself a plate. He came out of the kitchen carrying the metal bowl of scraps, delightedly mowing through it.

My mom looked up and started laughing and we all turned to follow suit.

“What?” he asked.

“That’s the bowl for the chickens! Why did you pick that instead of making a plate?”

“This had everything!” he protested, showing us the conglomeration of every component of dinner all mixed up in one bowl.

He sat down and finished the whole massive bowl, unbothered by eating scraps, and the family watched in fascination. His only comment at the end was, “That was great! Turkey was a little dry.”

[akirathedramaqueen]

CBT and Exposure Therapy: Blitzø Showcase

An important (really, don't skip) disclaimer

If you are contemplating whether or not you would benefit from any kind of therapy, consider consulting with your medical provider first. While I did my best to validate all the points made using publicly available resources, I am not a medical professional. At the very least, I strongly advise that you do your own research and not take some amateur's opinion about a character from a silly demon show for granted.

"Everyone in this show needs fucking therapy STAT!"

We hear fans screaming into the void every now and then. Me too. I plead guilty and I willingly put myself in custody. But I am not taking these words back.

Especially often it is being said with Blitzø in mind, who, as hinted earlier and clearly shown in the latest episode, Ghostfuckers, is not doing okay. Not in the slightest.

Which is . . . yes. Indeed, trauma-ridden Blitzø is a major problem for both him and those around him. Yes, we see him reaching his lowest point now exactly because he left these gaping wounds untreated for so long.

But the tricky question is—how, though? What to do? Will a good talking to a confidante help? Or, maybe, some kind of shock would snap him out of the spiral?

I've been pondering on this topic for more than 4 months, and, as the Ghostfuckers came out, I finally got all the data I need to prove a point. The show did all the job for me and effectively made Blitzø go through improvised versions of two popular therapy techniques. And, before I even start, I want to say—I am so glad with what we ended up with. What they did, and, more importantly, didn't do, aligns well with how it would likely happen in real life.

So buckle up, and let's see where it gets us!

Therapy # 1. Cognitive-behavioral therapy, or CBT

This is, in essence and with some corrections, your good old talking. Here you can find more information about it, so, if you're not familiar with the topic, I recommend following the link first.

But, very shortly: CBT is an extremely common approach to be tried while you're dealing with anxiety, depression, and a number of other mental disorders. What it aims to do is to help you get past unhelpful thinking (distortions) and learn not to act on it.

Looks like it fits the bill, right? Blitzø has a lot of issues with self-fulfilling prophecies, infuriatingly stupid assumptions, poorly thought-out actions . . .

But he's not like, you know . . . w-we're not, like . . . we're not doing a . . . w-we . . . what's betw— It's a transactional fucking, you see.

If you don't feel like coming, that's OK! I'm sure I can do without it for one month. :)

Stolas only cares about having a rugged peasant raw-dog him into his matress! It's nothing, ya know . . . it's nothing else.

You . . . no longer have any obligation to see me, to touch me, to bed me . . . You are— you are free of me.

He sees things which aren't truly there.

It's not Stolas giving him space after the disaster in the 'Ozzie's.' It must be Stolas not needing him anymore, getting tired of him.

It's not Stolas caring about Blitzø. He is a royal, why would he care how an imp's day he happened to be fucking was?

It's not Stolas setting Blitzø free and putting an end to a problematic transaction they had with the hope for it to grow into something more. It's him getting rid of Blitzø.

As a result, he ends up hurting himself and the relationship he had with that one sad gay bird he happened to fall deeply for but literally trashed in his own house twice, acting on nothing more than frenetic fear of losing Stolas, but in reality, driving him away even more . . . for good.

I mean, you royal fucks think you can do this every time, like you can just play with our feelings because we're smaller and not as important!

Ha! I'm right, aren't I? You get off getting plowed by people you look down on!

And I can sorry more people, everyone but you! 'Cause I don't owe you dick! Everyone, but you . . .

So, the case's closed? Let someone—say, Millie—talk to him and tell him how wrong he was about himself and the others?

Well, here's the thing. Despite him being infinitely wrong about Stolas's intentions, we can't deny the fact that every one of his beliefs was not, in fact, a distortion. It'd led him to wrong conclusions, yes, but it was built on the information he received and legitimate experiences he had in his life. Here are only some of the facts connected to only this situation with Stolas, but there are other problematic behaviors and other reasons for him acting the way he does.

Fact # 1. The circus fire did happen, and Blitzø was the reason for it. Unintentional, and of course it wasn't his fault, but it still ruined the lives of many people—him included. Blitzø cannot act like it never occurred.

Fact # 2. Hell is divided by class and race. Their situationship with the grimoire was an embodiment of that inequality. A lot of Blitzø's outburst during the Full Moon and later in the Apology Tour was connected to it, to his beliefs that Stolas is the same as the rest of the privileged circle. Beliefs, I stress, justified by the real world. Stolas is more of an exception, and even then, his behavior is only different when it comes to Blitzø. He still acts the same toward other imps.

Fact # 3. We knew about Stolas's intentions all along, but before that fateful Full Moon, what Blitzø saw was Stolas avoiding him and not communicating the issue the Ozzie's date had raised. And before Ozzie's? Stolas did act entitled and inappropriate. He was baby-talking to Blitzø and used derogatory terms while addressing him. The dude literally called him an impish plaything in the Truth Seekers.

Fact # 4. Blitzø's heavily implied (though not officially confirmed by the show) existing conditions—ADHD*, BPD**, PTSD, and dyslexia/dyscalculia***—do affect his life, and while Hell seems to be somewhat receptive of neurodivergence, he still has to deal with it every single fucking day. He is going to be avoidant and afraid to be abandoned at the same time. He is going to hate himself. His learning disabilities are going to make his life harder. No way around it.

Note: *, **, and *** contain links to separate meta-analyses from @timkontheunsure and @tealvenetianmask about the respective conditions and how they show themselves in Blitzø's case.

And my beef with CBT here is exactly that. CBT's goal is to gaslight you into believing your distortions hold no water and suggests you just ignore them. And, as I've shown with Blitzø, these reactions and assumptions aren't baseless. They are legitimate, and, in fact, sometimes help to get by. Even though it's a crooked crutch, you can't learn to walk properly by just throwing that crutch away. You're still going to limp, and oh, will it be painful.

This is oversimplistic and dismissive. Anxiety and depression don't come out of the blue, and with mental disabilities, it's even deeper. The class/disability stigma is alive and strong, and just slapping a "you're fine" bandaid on your traumatized self isn't going to help.

Therapy # 2. Exposure therapy.

Exposure therapy is another approach commonly used while dealing with traumatic past and its aftermath—PTSD, anxiety, phobias, and such. Again, if you're not familiar, there's the link for you, but very shortly—the therapist puts the patient in a safe environment and 'exposes' them to the feared object in question for limited periods of time. The goal is to eventually get rid of the targeted fear and decrease avoidance.

And Blitzø has got some phobias for sure.

The fear of letting everyone down. Again.

And the fear of abandonment. Again.

All of it is a result of self-hatred, sitting so deeply it rules his life and his vision of how others perceive him. Said it himself. Almost.

So, where and how does the show expose Blitzø to his traumatic past?

First, the most recent, and the most obvious one—Rolando and his slideshow of all traumatic events Blitzø ever had in his life.

Second—Blitzø's drug trip in the Truth Seekers. While it does not contain the events of the past as they were, it does force him to face his fears.

Are you worried I might have enough of it one day as well? . . . You're going to die alone! . . . You're going to die alone, Blitzo!

With some stretch, the third one is Verosika's 'Blitzo sucks' party. Where Blitzø was forced to see the consequences of his avoidance and rejection.

Note: to be clear, I do think the party does not show the true extent of Blitzø's actions and how much he'd hurt people. It was exaggerated by Verosika, and here I explain why this is the case.

So, what gives? Or, rather, what gives it not?

It might sound funny now, considering I brought it up myself, but I, once again, say this is not therapeutic, just as CBT kind of 'talking.' If anything, all these three events did more harm than good.

The D.H.O.R.K.S.'s goal in the Truth Seekers was to torture the information out of Blitzø. He was not supposed to overcome it. He was supposed to crack.

The Verosika's goal was to ruin Blitzø's reputation. She was working her ass off to prove he's just a heartless freak.

The Rolando's goal was to fucking kill Blitzø.

And okay, their motivations had nothing to do with helping him, but maybe it did, in its own twisted way?

No. The writers added this to push Blitzø past the breaking point, not to heal him, and to show us more of his lore. Each time he was forced to face his past or fears or consequences, he was only spiraling more.

The only thing which did him some good was . . . well, Millie finally seeing his bravado mask falling off. But the cost of it was way too high. Not worth it.

To the therapy's defense, some points why it would never work in the way it was done in the show:

Blitzø had never given his consent and was not ready to face it. I might be very rude right now, but go and try producing some explosion-like sounds in front of war veterans without letting them know first and see what happens.

The amount of fearful experience exposed was way too overboard. He couldn't possibly digest it in a healthy way.

The environment was not safe. It was straight-up retraumatizing, an intentional one.

So there's that.

But what helped then?

We've briefly brushed over the fact Millie did talk to Blitzø. While I did imply this might be an example of CBT, here are some key deviations from the classic therapy which made all the difference.

Millie didn't sugarcoat all the shit Blitzø did. He was hurting their business. He didn't pay her. He was reduced to Bethanie. It showed her opinion can be trusted.

Millie apologized for not being there for him sooner. She admitted she relied too much on Blitzø being bulletproof, unbothered by everything. She admitted she didn't support him in a way he always did.

While proving she could never hate Blitzø, she used their common story, one he knows and can recall. She used evidence to prove him wrong, not a "it's all in your head" bandaid. And more than that, later she proved it with action—not for one second did she believe Rolando and his shittalk about what Blitzø supposedly was thinking about her. Her unwavering faith spoke more than any words ever could.

Getting back to exposure therapy . . . Metaphorically, she reminded Blitzø he can handle a beating or two. And physically beat the infestor demon out of him, which, as we can see later, didn't really affect Blitzø that much. He wasn't even battered. So, apparently, when the said exposure is done by someone who genuinely tries to make you feel better and knows your limits well, it might just work?

And finally, Millie acknowledged Blitzø's pain. She didn't brush it away. She validated him.

What all of this is about?

Like every treatment, too much of a medicine can become poisonous. So are CBT and exposure therapy.

They might help, and lots of research shows they do in certain cases. But there are limitations to what they can and cannot achieve, and they have to be adjusted to each individual story, to each trauma, and they should not be applied as a way to mend the outcome of the trauma without taking into account the story it comes with. Again, legitimate concerns and experiences cannot be brushed away or ignored.

Actualy . . . we've seen where it leads in the show too. In the beginning, Millie was quite dismissive of Blitzø's worries—all of this over a . . . breakup?

And here it comes full circle.

Only when Millie started taking Blitzø seriously, did it help them progress. And look how quickly we've switched from a complete despair to a glimmer of hope! Isn't that a beautiful closing scene?

As a closing note—we do not need to 'fix' Blitzø. After all this shit he went through, there won't be a day where he wakes up and be like, "Hey, I don't hate myself anymore! And look, I'm not afraid to be abandoned or misunderstood!"

I'm sorry to break it to you, but this is a lifelong battle. Being mentally whole, healthy, and constantly happy is no more than a myth, and everyone has their own demons and skeletons to deal with.

What Blitzø needs is some good support system to pull him back when he's down.

And boy, do I hope that one particular owl will fill in that role of unyielding pillar for Blitzø each time our lizard will fall into that pit again. Look, I love Millie, but there's only so much she can do. She can't be always present, she has her own life . . . and her own disaster of a husband to look after (affectionate <3). Here and here @lost-romantique talks about Stolas's capacity of loving, with me occasionally nodding, ha-ha. But to be short—it's fucking immense. And since he loves words, I do believe he has all the energy to tell again and again and again how awesome Blitzø is. Even if Blitzø wouldn't believe it himself.

[modedelagauze]

𝓢𝓤𝓜𝓜𝓔𝓡'𝓢 𝓗𝓔𝓐𝓣 ᯓ★

​​Pairing: Abby x F! Reader Summary: You move into your apartment just outside of campus. Abby sees you struggling and decides to help move everything in. CW: Mostly fluff, Abby is having dirty thoughts about you (2k) This work belongs to a larger series though it can be read alone without the context of previous chapters. Read the entire collection on AO3 HERE or refer to the Tumblr master list HERE

Only about five miles from the grounds where you would be receiving your education for the upcoming years, you sat fanning your reddened cheeks with the loose slip of a welcome flyer once pinned between clips stuck to your apartment door. The place was an old brick fortress so clearly taken advantage of by a landlord who clearly couldn’t give a damn about college students unacquainted to the heat of the city. The mockery of a poorly printed image of the sun wearing sunglasses alongside a short list of locations to pick up some form of air conditioning listed on the sheet was long forgotten as you got up to approach the refrigerator. Would it be so wrong to stand in front of an open freezer door and allow the cooling hum of the ice maker to calm your sweaty nerves? Apparently it was quite possibly the worst decision you could have made when you realized that the ice maker wasn't even on and that this had to be none other than an act of god punishing you for picking the apartment on the third floor and deciding to move in mid day when the sun was revealed itself most. You hadn’t even registered how loud the string of curses that escaped your lips had been until you were startled by the figure standing in the hallway of your home.

“What's going on?” You blurted out, face fixed into a scowl, unsure why some random stranger was standing in front of you. Hopefully she was some random student belonging to management, here to make something apparent that wasn’t already emailed to you since you hadn’t really had time to see the office other than to pick up your keys an hour ago. That would make the interaction a whole lot less weird.

“I was gonna ask the same.” She spoke, quickly attempting to diffuse the situation with her hands up, “I just thought I heard someone get hurt or something and the door was wide open.” The woman continued while motioning at the door that you’d forgotten to shut and lock after struggling the first of three large boxes into your apartment. “I knocked, but I didn’t hear anything.” 

You would’ve been more irritated with the audacity of the burly blonde standing in front of you had she not, well, looked the way that she did. If God had indeed been punishing you earlier, then this was a reward. Give and take if you will and being given a hot neighbor was worth all of it since living in the Appalachians didn't really have much to offer. You sighed, closing the ajar freezer and realizing just how stupid you looked at the moment. “I’m so sorry that was rude and you're so sweet. It’s just hot and I have so much to move.”

“So you’re okay?” she further probed.

“As okay as any actively melting person could be.” You huffed in response.

Now with crossed arms as she scanned the large box leaning against your front door labeled Section A, the woman inquired “Do you need help with the rest of it?”

You sighed, resting both your hands on top of your head, resenting the very thought of carrying up the rest of your things alone. “I would really love that.”

The blonde walked forward to meet you where the hallway and kitchen met, extending an arm out to shake your hand. “My name’s Abby.”

You shook it, now up close enough to take in the details of her exquisitely designed face. Really, the girl was something to marvel at considering the freckles sprinkled along her T-zone and the slight bump at the bridge of her nose; the mix of blue and brown in her eyes framed by golden eyelashes and those untamed brows. She was a natural blonde too. This was like dangling fresh salmon in front of a starving bear. Not to mention you were considered tall for a woman, but she still managed to have a good couple of inches on you and her physique had to be hand carved by the gods themselves. As selfish as it may be, you prayed she didn’t have a girlfriend. “Y/N,” you stuttered, then repeated yourself. “Y/N, L/N.” 

Abby echoed your name, smiling as she said it and you loved how it sounded coming from her mouth. Already you wanted to hear the girl say it again and again, but it was too soon. You didn’t even know her last name. Together, the two of you marched down the hall to your closest stairwell, navigating through the numerous other bodies also moving into the building. Halfway down the first flight of stairs Abby asked why you picked Washington if you couldn’t stand the heat and you responded with something along the lines of believing the state to have had perfect weather all year round. She laughed, suggesting you should have moved to Bellingham instead if you wanted year-round gloom. “Did you not visit before commiting?” She asked as you approached the mailing room.

Shaking your head as you unlocked the locker where the remainder of your packages had been delivered, you answered “I always wanted to leave the midwest for a big city and Washington, on paper, looked pretty good. Can you blame me?” 

Hailing from Salt lake City, Abby admitted she couldn't relate and accepted your reasoning as the two of you maneuvered around the boxes, stacking them on top of one another before lifting on either side. “How do you feel about it now then?”

Somewhere between a groan and sigh at the girl’s ability to continue on with all of the questions while lifting so much, you told her that you knew already that you wouldn’t give it up for the world. Fortunately, Abby could tell that you were growing winded and allowed you a breather up the stairs. After reaching the last step, you spoke before she could start back up again. “So why’d you come here? Salt Lake is beautiful, I've heard.”

She laughed, though you couldn't see her face over the boxes and cursed them for hiding it. “I picked the best school I got accepted to.” You pressed your backside against the apartment door, slowly forcing it open only to be kicked shut by Abby following you in seconds later. “You know, Utah actually had the better program, but staying home felt like I was playing it too safe so I picked the second best option.”

After setting the boxes between an assortment of smaller collections, Abby pressed for more information regarding your point of origin. “Maysville. It’s this little border city right in between Kentucky and Ohio.” You responded without looking at the girl, actively searching for a box labeled kitchen where both cleaning supplies and tools for reconstructing your carefully packaged furniture should’ve been. Sandwiched among several other boxes labeled kitchen, the last and only mid-sized box was the jackpot which you then placed in front of Abby before prancing over to your CD player, its wires haphazardly strung across the floor. It was the one and only thing you’d actually cared to put together upon arrival. “I think the website said I’d only need an allen wrench and flat head to put the couch together.” Abby nodded her head in approval, though she’d never heard of Maysville nor did she know what size of either tool that she was looking for.

“Do you have a preference for any one genre?” You asked, turning to reach for a small box of various albums and compilations. It was always better to ask than scare the girl off with some obscure industrial that had been left inside the sound system from its last use.

“Not really, but anything from the eighties is usually solid.” Instead of squatting beside the box, you bent over it rather cartoonishly, with a fingernail stuck between your upper and bottom lip as you thumbed through the collection. It wasn't so much a deliberate attempt to provoke the girl, but rather that the stretch created a burning feel in your hamstrings, so you prolonged the search, pretending you haven't found anything yet. In truth, you weren’t the only one pretending when really the girl had already found the right tools ages ago. She’d actually found them right away, but instead of saying anything she’s just allowed her hands to swim around the trinkets with the purpose of keeping up just enough noise to keep you distracted, imagining her to still be looking through the box while she was actually staring at the way your shorts had ridden up, giving her a hint of what you looked like under them, admiring the crease where your ass met your thighs. She wondered how it would feel flush against her abdomen, how beautifully your back would arch as she drilled into you from behind. 

“Found it.” You chimed revealing Wham’s ‘Make It Big’ and she echoed your words with a little too much excitement, holding up the steel instruments for you to see. An eyebrow was raised in question at the girl’s sudden enthusiasm, though she laughed it off. You then sat down cross legged in front of the girl, pulling a box over to slice open with your keys, having lost the box cutter again. “Do you not have any plans for the day?”

Abby grinned, bringing up a hand to massage her neck as she rolled it around. “Not really. I was just coming back from taking out the trash when I heard you earlier.” Absolutely perfect. You really did have a hot neighbor and not some random girl who just so happened to be in your complex visiting someone or something of that nature. “I live across from you actually.” Unboxing all three of the cardboard containers that would eventually comprise your couch was enough to lay you out across the concrete again, spread like a starfish. Your eyes closed momentarily, “I don’t know how you’re alive right now.” 

“No. It's taking everything in me not to start stripping down now.” Abby spoke, sounding closer than you remembered, and your eyelashes fluttered open to reveal the girl now kneeling over your form, the tail end of her braid only a pinch away from tickling the tip of your nose. She wouldn’t say it aloud but she wasn't suggesting stripping down because of the heat, though you were unsure if that was the true implication. 

“Be my guest. I’d walk around naked if I could.” As if you weren't already halfway there. Clad in a pair of low rising denim hot shorts and a spandex tank top with a scooped neckline, everything was pretty much outlined for the girl to see and my god the blonde took every opportunity for a glance. She’d take you on this very concrete, still sticky with sweat, right now if it wasn’t considered inappropriate to fuck your neighboors only hours after meeting them. Normally, the blonde wasn’t one to be foaming at the mouth over some girl, but there was something about the way you walked; the way you didn’t seem to visibly react to her at all. I mean, Abby knew good and damn well how to stop a room and did it often, but it was almost as if you didn’t even know that you were in the room. Regardless, patience was a virtue. The following hours passed as if they were only a fraction of moments, filled with laughter and the occasional sneak glance from either party toward the other and yet no conversation of if the other was seeing someone. Your personal rule of thumb was if it wasn’t explicit flirting then it couldn't hurt anyone. The night was a striking contrast to the midday heat and the two of you’d managed to completely finish all of the larger furniture, before it grew late. The session concluded with you standing in the doorway of Abby’s apartment, only two doors down from where you lived, as she learned against its frame with cheeks still rosy from a mix of the prior heavy lifting and all the breathless cackling you managed to snatch from her throat. 

“You should come over tomorrow.” She suggested as you glanced inside of her barely lit residence, catching a flurry of band posters plastering her entryway; each one framed and appearing to be perfectly spaced away from each other. 

“Yeah if I wake up tomorrow. I think I'll be up all night putting the rest of the kitchen together.” You huffed, chewing at your cheek. 

“Then I’ll come over tomorrow. How's that?”

“Perfect.”

[beemovieerotica]

hey can you tell me how you got tested for OCD and/or started to think you had it?

yeeeess so it was literally 2018 when i was like "hm maybe i have OCD" to my therapist (who was not specialized in this) and she did not disagree with me and everything kind of clicked in that session between us when we both simultaneously realized a lot of my behaviors could be explained that way.

the hardest thing was that i'd already been diagnosed with generalized anxiety so like. "yes i obsess over conversations i've had or will have and repeat things over and over in my head" "yes i constantly check to make sure things are okay" "yes i hyperanalyze and hypercriticize myself" all got wrapped up in that.

i think the behavior that i actually brought up with that therapist that precipitated the realization was i started vacuuming a corner of my room repeatedly like over the course of several weeks, every day. just obsessively vacuuming this corner because i kept finding tiny cat litter crystals there from a previous tenant. i'd be literally picking it out of the carpet with my fingers with my head parallel to the floor just staring and trying to find these things for like an hour at a time. colossal waste of time. but it was "important." and i was finally like...THIS is excessive, right?

but i do a lot of things that are the opposite of "classic" OCD which confused me for YEARS - like i genuinely have such poor food hygiene and don't care about bodily fluids, i love touching sticky things, my personal things are poorly organized, my room was always a mess, etc etc.

i got officially evaluated when i went in for the psilocybin study (beginning of this year) where i met an OCD specialist for the first time who did this complete battery of questions with me. there were things i never realized were OCD for me:

very obsessed with parasitic insects and constantly checking for bedbugs and fleas even when i have no reason to suspect these things

constantly re-reading everything i write. 5x. 10x. saying whole sentences over and over in my head. the sentence is fine, i didn't make a mistake, but i just have to keep reading it to be 1000% sure.

rubbing my scalp a lot and pulling out random hairs on my legs, eyebrows, eyelashes

over-explaining so fucking much to be absolutely sure i'm not misunderstood or that someone can read bad intentions into what i'm saying. "predicting" conversations and anticipating entire lines of questioning and how i would defend myself. lol.

intrusive horror film-esque thoughts

being terrified as a child that i would be possessed by a demon if i yawned too wide - i had other extremely irrational superstitions that i would force on myself and try to live by for no reason, these started at like age 10

obsessions around my health (orthorexia, i've ping-ponged between various diets like vegan / gluten-free / vegetarian thinking that it would help me)

only ever felt normal when drinking. like i could just let go of the compulsions and anxiety while drunk.

it was really hard to even parse a lot of this out being 1) already anxious, 2) raised very religious, and 3) BOTH my parents and my older sister have OCD, so all this was just normal!! my mom also pulled out her hair. my mom and my sister also had eating disorders and very weird attitudes around medicine. superstitions and moral scrupulosity were encouraged in our community. i had no reason to think that any of this could all be linked back to an actual disorder.

i really wish i'd had intervention at least a decade or more earlier. this started when i was in grade school at least. it sucks. so much of the public perception of OCD is centered on the classic symmetry / cleanliness / hand-washing shit. it did not help that my family loved watching Monk when i was growing up so i was like "oh, i'm not like THAT" and never questioned it.

i think(?) i might go to the big OCD conference happening in the states next year, not sure, but i really want to talk to people about psilocybin. idk let me know if you have any other questions, i'm still processing a lot of this.

[hattersarts]

gomens s2 thoughts, all spoilers!

I spent 10 hours talking to my housemate about the season after we binged the whole thing in the morning but here are the highlights and the biggest takeaways from the season.

okay i did love the ending, i love that we get the conformation of love AND going into the divorce arc next season (if they're not properly together by the end of season 3 however, i am rioting) they're slow burn and a whole season of them getting to the final 10mins was tasty.

HOWEVER. it was an extremely clunky season when it comes to writing, lots of either set ups missed OR set ups repeated 4 times that they're drilled into out heads. there was also lots of dialogue that really needed to be tightened up. the lesbians were so poorly written i thought they might have needed to be cut BUT they just needed to have more bearing on the rest of the plot AND say things like real people would say things and LITERALLY SHOW ONE SINGLE REASON WHY THEY WOULD LIKE EACH OTHER WITHIN THE FIRST EPISODE.

gabe/bulz romance was the one that should have been cut, have them do more of a oh-my-god-my-boss-sucks kind of thing, lean into them complaining about having to avert a civil war after armageddon stopped and touch on the "structural problems" the angels mention later. Have gabe/bulz be super punished for working together which puts huge fear into az and crowley about what happens if you try to team up as an angel/demon pair (but an extra reason why az takes the job at the end so he and crowley can be the same)

imo it works more if the only mirror of their romance is the HUMANS which should lean into themes to season 3 of how they need to team up with humans (re:"us vs them" line at the end of season 1) to actually achieve their happy ending.

Nina and maggies best scene was their last one telling crowley he needed to talk to az but i think that was one that needed to be cut, it would have been far more satisfying to have crowely work out it out himself that he loves az and wants to tell him (still via maggie and nina but more subtle rather than them telling him to his face AND via spending more time with az in the season)

flashbacks were all pretty good, loved the jobe one and that final "lonely" scene. the nazi one needed some trimming the most (why did all three come back to earth, it made scenes too crowed, have them fight to be a zombie)

shax was disappointing, she was kind of just incompetent the whole way through which didnt make the stakes very exciting, (that whole scene of her talking to the legion was unfunny and pointless) i wanted crowley to mentor her more like when he gave her advice in the first few meetings we saw (kind of in a very non-demonic way, not expecting anything in return) and her to then meet him on equal footing in the finale. would have been a little accidental taste for Crowley to have his good deeds come back to haunt him while showing he's different to demons.

speaking of the finale fight, that halo had NO set up, it was sick as hell but ??? the fuck did that come from. the fight should have been won by az and crowley performing another HUGE miracle together, discorporating the demons (which then would alert heaven and hell something was up in the bookshop and the final scene can happen)

az taking the job from metatron was very good, its consistent with his character where he still hasn't let go of his faith in good/god, he's only been upset by the angels running heaven and still has faith in the system while crowley has realised none of it works and it's only them together that matters. it was nice to show he still hasn't truly accepted crowley for who he is now (tho imo he knows he loves him, he just hasn't quite unrepressed himself) and him not turning down the job after crowley confesses to him shows he still thinks he can fix it. Crowley on the other hand thinks he's now lost him, az has broken he the trust he had in him, he's going to be in big depression mode

few thoughts of good directions for S3:

finally delivering on what crowley said at the end of S1 I think is the most satisfying. the final showdown should be humans Vs heaven/hell with Crowley and az on the human side, helping them win the conflict. there would be suggestions that this is actually god's ineffable plan, this is a conflict she wants to happen and the things that Crowley and az went through are what make them perfect ambassadors to help the humans.

the set up for az in S3 to finally work out he and Crowley can't work out within the unfair rules of the system and for him to abandon heaven (tho not I think, becoming a demon) is good. a sucky ending imo for season 3 is if az somehow "fixes" heaven and via bureaucracy and not via blowing it all up.

growth moments for Crowley in S3 might be having more contact with humans since he's already abandoned hell and it would put az & crowley on similar footing (as az very much loves humans already) when they decided to side with humans for a humans Vs heaven/hell conflict.

anyway, gay people

[lavendermunson]

it's ruining my life - steve harrington

chapter 7 of miss americana and the heartbreak prince

summary Steve finally accepts all the mistakes he has ever made and it's in a journey to fix them.

cw mentions of insecurities, jealousy. alcohol consumption.

w.c 3.0k

a/n Steve centered chapter. there's poorly baseball descriptions, i tried! i promise!

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter (soon)

Steve’s ego has been buried down. Buried down seven feet deep with no sign of returning. It has been the most difficult week for him. 

No matter how much he runs, how many pounds he carries, or how many hours he trains, he can’t get out of this hell called overthinking. His new teammates have seen it, his coach knows. He isn’t well. But he is a star, he will recover. He has too. 

That happens to the best ones too. 

Avoiding the many calls of Hopper and hesitating to read the cards his mom sends. He lays on his brand new apartment’s bed, a bed so big he gets terrified of the empty space that lies between him and his phone. He has been waiting for one call, yours. But how could you call when he finished all of this? When he isn’t capable of confronting his emotions and “man up”, as his father used to say. 

He gets tormented every night, going to sleep isn’t any better because he sees you in his dreams. But you aren’t happy, you are crying. It’s like he knows what’s going on even if he’s on the other side of the country. He misses you and he hates feeling this. He hates how he pushes everyone he loves away from him because he is not okay. Steve has never felt so much love, such a pure and kind type of love. It’s not in his blood, it’s not within his family’s principles, it simply doesn’t exist. Love, he even fears the word but he knows he feels it. For you. 

You. You are so beautiful, so bright. How could he ruin you? How could he invade your personal space and shatter everything that you treasure. He feels like the villain in a story where the only solution is to disappear, far away from you, from all of this. 

When his thoughts get so loud his head is spinning, he calls in some of the local food restaurants until he finds one open. Fortunately for him, one answers and he fills his order as he sits on his bed with an empty stomach. To spend the time waiting for his food, he reaches for the remote and turns on the TV. Switching through uninteresting channels he finds one. “Gossipy” is a podcast hosted by the most selfish and rude people he has ever met. But sometimes it’s fun to know some of the celebrity dramas. 

As the voices of the hosts fill his empty room, he goes to the door for his food and comes back. Taking a bite of his donut, he sits in front of a familiar face glowing on the TV.

You. 

You are in the arms of another man. Drunk. Mascara smudged around your eyes. Your signature lipstick is wearing off. 

Did you kiss him? Did you go home with him? 

Steve’s heart starts to pound against his chest. He is jealous, but even more, he is worried and almost disappointed. This isn’t you. Where is the sweet girl he met? Where’s the girl who hugs her young fans with such delicacy? Who treats her friends like the most important thing in the world? 

Did he break you? Did he push you into this dark hole? 

He changes the channel quickly, their harsh worlds still running through his mind. Steve takes his phone and gets on social media, he doesn’t use this much because he doesn’t really know how. But he remembers one or two things Nancy taught him, and that’s enough to find the most horrible comments towards you. 

No, no. This can’t be real. Wake up. 

The media is destroying you. Calling you names and filling your comments with snakes. Most of the comments are fans of Henry, watching how you make your way around their man. Commenting on every inch of your face, every part of your body.  

The cherry on the cake? Someone posted a picture of you with Henry, no text, no explanation. Just him kissing your cheek with his arm around you.  

Steve sees everything and gets so terrified. This isn’t you, you are not acting like yourself. Where’s Robin? Where’s your family? Why are you alone? 

He spends the rest of his night thinking. You are just like him, pushing people away when it gets too difficult. It’s a shame, really. He feels so guilty for doing this to you. When Steve finishes his nightly routine, he plugs his phone to the wall and checks his alarms. He wishes he could talk to you in your dreams, telling you this is wrong. Telling you that he is sorry. Wishing you weren’t so alone, wishing you weren’t acting like he does. 

_

The next morning is Steve’s fourth game. He gets on the field with sweaty palms and an awful headache. The usual since he joined the team. 

The next few minutes start to go by quickly, the teams are tied in points and he hasn’t managed to make any home runs.

It’s his turn to bat. He starts shivering, cold sweat running down his body. As the crowd goes silent, he grips the bat strongly on his hands, focusing on the pitcher who slowly lifts his leg, throwing his body to the side. He feels how his breathing quickens, his sweaty palms betray him and when the ball hits his bat the ball goes all the way up. He starts running as if he were on autopilot, flashes of your face show as he blinks. His legs feel heavy, and his head is spinning. 

He stops feeling the rush. The adrenaline. The love. He used to love this game, he used to love being on the field. It was his first love, until you came. 

You filled his world with joy, soft kisses and glitter. For him was more than enough, being in your arms and feeling safe. Feeling loved back genuinely. 

And know that it’s all gone, he wants that back. This is why he is failing at everything, this is why he broke your heart. Because he was incapable of making sacrifices, but now he understands he has to risk everything for the hope of it all. 

He manages to score another point, running as fast as he could even if he didn’t realize it. The rest of the game went with ease and his team won. But he doesn’t feel like a winner, not until he makes everything right. 

__

“I thought I wanted this. I thought it was for me because i’ve been feeling like the king of this fucked up world but i don’t know why im doing this anymore.”

The next morning, he decided to open all of his mom’s cards. Some are happy, some aren’t. But in the last card his mom writes to him about her divorce from his dad and how much she misses Steve. He was brave enough to add her contact to his number and finally have a quick chat. 

He was anxious at first, he had to call more than three times to reach her but he did nonetheless. 

“You need a break, son. Look at you, have you been sleeping well?” She asks, her voice so sweet as when he was a kid. 

“I haven’t. I can’t do it, I don’t know what’s wrong with me”

Her mom’s brows knit in a frown, lips pushing down pouting. It hurts to hear him like this. 

“You said you’ve read all my cards but I know there is something you don’t want to see. Steve, you need to let people love you. You need to learn that they are ready to sacrifice everything for you and then you need to do so too. I’ve seen you go around with girls but i’m sure there’s one that makes you feel like you are loved and they care for you”

Steve nods. Knowing his mom is right even if she doesn’t know all the details about his life. 

“You need to accept that you are capable of loving and being loved. That you deserve it more than anyone else. You love the kids, you love your friends, and you love Hopper and they haven’t hurt you once but I know you’ve had. This is something your father used to do, and I'm not comparing you to him. A lot of people may do it too.” Her voice is soft even if she’s saying everything that Steve has been thinking for the past few days. “ But it’s not too late, allow yourself to feel it. Let them know that you love them. Let everyone know that they can be safe around you, that you are grateful for making you feel safe too.”

He nods again. A tear was running down his cheek. 

“Thank you, mom. This, I've been needing this for a long time” he smiles, looking at his mom through his phone. “I’m going to send you some tickets, so you can come and visit me? Is that okay?”

“I want nothing but to hug you, my boy.” 

“I do too mom. I love you” Steve whispers, his tears now blurring the picture of his mom on his phone. “I have to go, but i’ll pick you up from the airport and then we go to eat, then you can meet the team and have a tour of the stadium.”

“I love you more, Steve. I can’t wait to see you.”

He waves as she waves back, blowing kisses to him. When he hangs up the phone he takes his bag and goes down to the gym in his building. 

He is going to fix everything. Or at least try. 

—

“And that’s pretty much all, I've spent the last week here and I still feel like I'm new. In some way i don’t belong here”

Steve had shown his mom the stadium, the place where he spends most of his time. It was the place he dreamed to be, the place he wanted to call home.

“You had to make some changes, it’s normal to feel so distant from what you knew. But it’s amazing, everything you have done is amazing.” Steve’s mom reaches his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He is getting used to having her close again.

“You are amazing too. You are so brave for leaving him, i have been waiting my entire life to see that happen.”

“It isn’t easy, like you, I was comfortable back there because it was what I knew. I’m also afraid of the unknown, which doesn’t go away with age. You have to jump into the adventure to see what will happen, time passes anyway.”

Steve gives his mom a gentle hug, then he takes her hand and guides her to the parking lot. He organized a little reunion with all his friends at his new house. The kids, Nancy, Eddie, Hopper. He will be surrounded by everyone he trusts and loves. It’s time to give them what they deserve.

–

“Welcome everyone, come in!” Steve receives everyone at his house, two of his favorite private chefs handled all that has to do with food while he got the best wine and his favorite whiskey. Some soda for the kids too, since they can’t drink yet. He greets every single one of them with a hug, a smile on their faces as they see Steve look so happy. Even if they know he isn’t entirely happy.

As they make their way into the house, running to all the rooms, watching the fireplace that has yet to be used, the large backyard with a small basketball court. The kids run around while Eddie, Hopper Joyce sit at the table and Steve serves them their drink of choice.

The doorbell rings and Steve gets goosebumps. He runs towards it and sees Nancy, with Robin tugging around her. He hugs Nancy for a moment and welcomes the couple into his house. When Robin passes by him she nods, and he does the same as a silent understanding that both of them will behave even if there’s some tension between them and a subject in common.

When everyone seats at the table, Steve introduces them to his mom, and they all welcome her with the same love they have for him. He is happy to see his family reuniting again. A family that’s not entirely by blood, but they are bonded for the love they have to each other.

“Before we eat I wanted to say something to you. I know i haven’t been so present in your life lately, i know i’ve made some mistakes and it felt like we were growing apart but the truth is i was having a hard time accepting that i'm a sensitive person. I was having a hard time knowing I care about you all and I'd do everything for you to keep the smiles on your faces. Recently I got my mom back, which is a great step and now I want to tie us together as strongly as I can. I don’t want to let you down again when you've done everything to support me.” He raises his glass of wine, and everybody takes their drinks in their hands. “I want to make a toast to you, to thank you and to say… that i love you with all my heart." He looks around the table, everyone he loves is here. He looks at the kids, how much they’ve grown. He looks at Hopper, who has been his support system even if he is a little bit more strict. He looks at Eddie, his best friend who always knocks some sense into him. He looks at Nancy, his soul sister, who he loves so dearly. He looks at Robin, who he is ready to welcome to the family. There’s no empty chair at the table but it feels like there’s a giant gap, a big hole in his heart. He wishes you were here, he really does.

They all had a great night, the food was delicious, the laughs weren’t missed and the house felt so warm in the company of everyone. The kids go to pick their rooms for the night, staying there until the weekend to see Steve play again. Hopper goes home to prepare for a meeting tomorrow. Steve’s mom goes to sleep. Eddie, Nancy and Robin stay outside in the backyard to smoke and talk.

Steve passes on the joint, he needs to clear his mind.

“You know, I'm worried about her too and I miss her too. Her parents are too, but she doesn’t let them in. She doesn’t let me in. I can’t reach her and it’s messing up with my head” Robin confesses to Steve as Nancy and Eddie talk about something else.

Steve snaps out of his thoughts, he feels the same but he is the last person you want to see.

“I don’t know what to do. I feel like i’ve lost her forever.”

“That’s not true” Robin looks at him, his stare so heavy on him that he starts to feel tiny. “She has never looked at anyone the way she looks at you, she has never felt so much love like this, she is just scared. Because she always gives her hundred percent, and most of the time she doesn't even get the bare minimum. What you did was a mistake, and leaving her like that was the worst thing. But I just know that she has made these mistakes because she doesn’t want you to feel like you are the only one who can misbehave.”

“I know. I saw it. I made the worst mistakes, and i admit it, it’s fucked. I had to be there with her and not let my ego get in the way. I just—” he lets out a deep sigh. “I felt so intimidated because she is what I want to be and I never got it. I want to be loved, respected, I want people to see me as an icon, I want the fame she has, the spotlight she has. But when I met, I swear, it was like it was the two of us on this planet, and I was okay with that. And sometimes i knew i didn’t have to be okay with that because i wanted to show other people that I’m the best, i wanted to tell my dad the biggest fuck you ever. I wanted to be everyone’s favorite person, I wanted to prove wrong to everyone that has underestimated me.” Nancy and Eddie join the conversation, Steve looks at the three of them with tears in his eyes. “But none of that matters now, I love the sport, but I feel empty when I step on that field. There’s nothing like being in her arms, like being in her spotlight. I just want her, I love her.”

“Then you know what to do,” Nancy says.

“Go get her, big boy,” Eddie adds.

“Can you take care of the kids while I'm gone? I’ll make it up to them, I swear.”

“You don’t have to. They understand, they support you." Nancy hugs Steve, and Eddie joins them, a few seconds later Steve reaches for Robin and she joins the hug.

Everything will be alright.

Steve knew that somehow he caused this. Somehow it’s his fault and it’s going to fix it, so he took the next plane to L.A. without even packing his bag but with all his emotional luggage and his nerves blossoming. 

Steve was addicted to his phone at this point. Scrolling through thousands of posts about you, when out on a party, you started to yell at the paparazzi to leave you alone, and it was everywhere. All the people calling you a brat or a diva. This was so unlike you, you were the sweet and calm girl everyone wanted to follow. 

He has to fix it. He was able to reconnect with all the people he loves, and there’s still time to get you back.

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[coupleoffanfics]

Batfam and batsis y/n headcons

y/n's Younger Years

8-12 years old

y/n was brought to the manor for the first time when she was 8 years old. Often got lost in the place because of how big it is the first week. If she couldn't find where she was trying to get to and no one was around to help, she'd just slump against the wall. Silently cry until someone was passing by, it was usually Alfred.

Jason just became Robin when y/n rolls in. He doesn't have much of an option of her for the first few weeks. Thought she was annoying with how much she cried and how clingy she was.

She clings to anyone because she doesn't want to be left alone in general and especially not in an unfamiliar environment. Alfred became her favorite first because of his cooking and baking. Jason is the second person she clings to. The only reason Bruce is in third place is because Jason just looked less scary.

When Bruce and Jason come back from a rough mission, Alfred walks up to the both of them before handing them each a paper. "Miss y/n made this for you before going to bed."  The two pieces of paper were drawings of their hero personas. Both written at the top, "My #1 hearo!". The misspell adds to the charm of the crayon drawing.

Sometimes if y/n and Jason happen to be in the library at the same time. She asks him what a word is, what it means, and how to pronounce it. It's kinda cute, until it happens every 3 minutes. He didn't think much of it, just thought that she was just a dumb kid being a dumb kid.

Later speculates that she might be dyslexic and lets y/n reads out loud to him. Helping her sound out the words and whatnot. Surprisingly he finds himself enjoying helping her and kinda looks forward to these readings. He notices how her reading gets more fluent as time goes on and he can't help but feel proud.

Before going off on a mission or patrol, y/n always hugs Bruce. If he's going on a mission she makes sure to hug him longer and tighter. Explaining, "To give you more power to be safe." Does not understand what the hell she's saying, but still appreciates it.

"Why don't you give Jason a hug?" Bruce asks after hearing the explanation. "Because Jason is already strong and protects you. You need as much strength." Bruce kinda just sits there more confused than ever and Jason is smirking to himself. He doesn't understand what y/n said himself, but what he does know is that she said he was stronger than Bruce and that's all he needed to hear.

Whenever Dick comes around to visit, he tries to make an effort to connect with y/n. She already has Alfred, Jason, and Bruce so she doesn't really feel the need to care about him on a deeper level. He's barely there and she already has enough people that she can cling on to.

He'll show off his acrobatic skills and y/n just drily says, "That's cool." Then runs off to find Jason. He's totally not hurt by the fact that his little sister likes Jason more than him. What? No.

It's not like he wanted a poorly drawn Nightwing that had, "#1 hearo", written on it. That he'd treasure and keep forever. No, he didn't care about that. Yep, not one bit. Though sadly he's not able try to bond with y/n as much as he'd liked since he's leading the Titans.

Barbara isn't around when y/n is usually awake. Often handle cams and technical things as Oracle. Though when they do interact y/n just in awe simply by the fact that she's still working in the hero field after what Joker did. Training hard, so that she'd live up to Barbara's legacy as Batgirl.

The two aren't too close yet when y/n is young, but they're definitely closer than y/n is with Dick. y/n totally didn't have a puppy crush on Barbara for the longest time. Okay, she did for a bit.

A year in the manor, Bruce begins to train y/n more. Taking note of how she's quick on her feet, but her punches are slower than her kicks. Is worried how much she looks up to Jason because Jason is rather reckless and doesn't mind putting himself in danger. Honestly he would have liked it if she just looked up to Dick or someone else.

Batman isn't about violence as ironic as it sounds. Violence is only to be used when there is no other way to stop one from harming others. So Bruce was kinda worried that y/n might take a more brash approach by following Jason, but it turned out to be the opposite.

Almost reminded him of Dick with her passive approach. Almost because she's just a bit too passive at times. It takes three years for y/n to be able to take on the Batgirl persona. Mainly because it's taken a while for her not just to dodge, but also take action by attacking.

Taking action probably wouldn't have come sooner if it wasn't for Jason's death. Hearing the news was hard for everyone. y/n was put to bed before it happened, so she was told of what happened by Bruce the next morning. Not saying any explicit details.

Everything around her seemed so much more somber. The man that was telling her what happened while looking away from her felt surreal. It was like losing her parents again.

She became numb. She heard the words and understood them, she just couldn't believe it. Not even when she watched his casket being lowered into the ground, she couldn't believe it.

Seeing how Bruce was putting on a straight face made things harder. It was like nothing had happened. She knew when she was older that was far from the case, but at the time it made her feel like that's what she had to do as well. He spent more time being Batman, that meant she'd spend more time training.

It worries Barbara and Alfred seeing how both of them are becoming closed off. Barbara takes note of how often y/n looks at Jason's memorial. When she tries to comfort y/n, the girl is quick to avoid the conversation. She might just walk away if Barbara keeps pressing on the subject.

Less time playing or drawing. More time in the batcave and avoiding the library. Months after everything Bruce allows her to pick up the Batgirl persona.

Putting on the suit for the first time didn't feel as grand as she thought it would. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. She wanted to rip it off because it felt like there was no point. It felt like all this constant training to be Batgirl was all for nothing. She came up with this fantasy that becoming a hero would free her from this numbness, that it’d make her happy just like it had Jason. Yet all it did was remind her that maybe if she tried harder to become Batgirl sooner that she could have a chance at saving him. She wished she could have hugged him before saying goodnight that night.

The only reason she didn't rip off it and burn the suit was because Bruce was waiting. There was no time to waste since Poison Ivy was on the radar tonight.

Jason's name is rarely said, but thought of more often than not. The only time y/n and Barbra openly talked about him was after dealing with the Joker and Quinn.

y/n didn't immediately leave the batcave like usual after every patrol or mission. She just stood in front of his memorial staring at the costume while Bruce left to do something that y/n didn't care about. It was just y/n and Barbara alone in the cave. "I miss him." Her voice echoed out nearly scared Barbara.

Barbara stopped what she was doing and responded with, "I do too." She waited for a moment to see if y/n would keep talking. She didn't want to push it since this is the first time y/n is even openly talking about him.

After the brief silence y/n asked, "He's in a better place, right? That means I shouldn't be sad, but I still miss him. I don't care if he's in a better place like everyone says, I want him back here with us." That's what opened the floodgates. The rest of the night was spent talking about the late Robin and helping y/n with accepting his death. Also giving her a new found eagerness towards being Batgirl and forming a strong bond with Barbara.

There was no chance of her saving Jason back then, but now she can at least save others from facing the same fate as him.

Then Tim crashes in and suddenly y/n has another brother. If Bruce thought he was good then y/n thought so too. Originally she thought that she wasn't going to be that close to Tim, but they just clicked. Tim thought y/n was so cool when she put on her suit and fought crime with Bruce. He couldn't wait to fight alongside both of them.

y/n saw Tim as a geekier and nerdier Barbra honestly. He may be smarter than Barbra, but she'll always be the best one in y/n opinion.

Tim would try to teach y/n how to hack or code since she showed interest in it, but she never got the hang of it. It usually just resulted in them goofing around. Lounging on the couch while playing video games. Tim was more into games that have sci fi themes, while y/n liked to play fantasy games, but they both loved RPGs. It's clear who was putting more thought in the game because y/n just spams attack and Tim is writing down the crit rates.

By the time Tim comes around, y/n is starting to babble in culinary. If she finishes making something, she'll wander around to find him. Makes him put down whatever he's doing to try what she made. She insists that she doesn't have a favorite when shoving food in Tim's face. "You're my lab rat. Testing if my cooking is edible before I give it to Pa, Alfred, or Barbara."

They used to have the same classes until Tim was able to skip a grade. y/n doesn't tell anyone that she's upset about it, but everyone can tell and Tim makes sure to reassure her. "It's not like we're going to never see each other again, y/n. We'll see each other in the halls and during lunch." She sighs, "I know, I know. Just let me wallow in my feelings and I'll be fine."

When there are low days for y/n that make it impossible for her to get out of bed, Tim sits in her room. Chatting about anything and not leaving her alone unless asked. It's nice that he does that, yet it still makes her feel bad for making him stay with her. It's not like she asked for company and she does need it during those moments. It made her feel like a liability.

Everyone is happy to see y/n and Tim getting along so well. y/n hasn't been as talkative or lively since Jason.

When Tim becomes Robin, y/n is put off by how much he resembles Jason. It kinda scared her. She never realized how similar they both look. It makes her wonder if that's why Bruce adopted Tim and allowed him to become Robin.

Catwoman has a soft spot for the newest Batgirl. She just watches her run around with Batman and Robin. There's just a sense of goofiness to the new Batgirl that she can't take seriously.

y/n's Teenage Years

13- 18 years old

The whole Red Hood ark left y/n with a broken arm, bruises, and wondering if this was what she wanted. It was nice to see Jason again, but it felt like she couldn't approach him. Also spending a lot of time in the batcave with Barbara and Alfred since she couldn't patrol with a broken arm. "At least he didn't break my dominant arm." y/n chuckled to herself humorously, Barbara doesn't laugh and glances at y/n. Barbara didn't find anything funny about it and she's sure y/n didn't either, she was probably still in shock.

Barbara is kinda mad at Jason, may or may not want to run over his foot with her wheelchair. Of course, she understands the betrayal and anger that he feels. She just thinks trying to take out y/n as well is a bit much, well everything that he's doing it a bit much. She just thought out of everyone y/n would be given the most mercy by Jason.

Jason may have forgiven Batman and everyone to an extent, but she just can't help herself from feeling guilty. Of course, she noticed that not only did he distance himself from the family, but her as well. He'd never be in the same room with y/n long enough for her to ask how he was doing. It made her believe that he was resentful toward her. It didn't matter if that wasn't the case, it just hurt that the person she's been missing for years doesn't want anything to do with her.

The thought of if there was even a point to any of this came up once more. Tim was joining the Titans for a bit, Jason was off on his own, Dick was in Blüdhaven or something y/n didn't care, and Bruce and Barbara were doing what they always do. It just wasn't as appealing as it once was. It almost became stale and she found herself feeling happier doing less action packed things.

Then one night y/n impulsively said that she wanted to quit to Burce. It wasn't a surprise to him as he saw her diverging from the path and let her drop the Batgirl persona. Honestly he was glad that she quit, he wished that his other kids would choose to live a normal life. That was one less child to worry about getting killed.

Of course, Barbara is the first to question y/n about her decision. A little while later Tim is the one trying to get an answer out of y/n. Jason is too ashamed to ask or even be near y/n. Dick doesn't find out until a month later after visiting the manor then starts asking if y/n was okay this and that. None of them got a concrete answer except for Barbara.

"It's something I'm not interested in anymore. I want to live a normal life, get married, and have kids. I'm not going to truly have that if I stay as Batgirl. And I'm not like any of you. I'm not good enough, I'm never good enough. Gotham never needed me anyway and they won't be losing anything because I quit."

Hearing that, Barara immediately opened her arms signaling for a hug. Feeling overwhelmed from spilling out her feelings, y/n accepted the hug. "I understand and I won't stop you. If being Batgirl doesn't make you happy, that's perfectly fine. You deserve happiness just like everyone else. The only thing I'm against is you calling yourself worthless. You were a good- no you were amazing as Batgirl and you are amazing when you aren't. Remember that."

Tears are running down the girl's [skin tone] face. Her throat was tight and she knew she couldn't talk without making a guttural sound. So she nodded her head. Barbara held y/n until she let go. Wiping the tears from her face, she turned to Barbara and said, "Please don't tell the others about this." Barbara kept this between them.

It's clear that out of the whole family that Barbara is the first and really only one y/n goes to for emotional support. y/n hates crying in front of anyone seeing it as her personal weakness. y/n is close to Tim, he doesn't know how to respond to y/n's emotions. Barbara seemed to always know what to say and y/n felt more comfortable being vulnerable around her.

The drift from the family isn't noticeable. y/n comes down to the batcave from time to time, but her time there is greatly cut in half. She starts hanging around her best friend, Norah, more often. Joins the track and fencing club seemingly not able to let go of some old habits.

When Tim leaves for the Titans the mark of when y/n and the family drift apart. There's small chat and not complete strangers. When Tim does come back he has taken on a new persona of Red Robin.

It's just a normal day, y/n is messing around in the kitchen when Tim comes up to her. There's just a strong air of anxiety around him that makes her anxious. "y/n, I need to tell you something." She puts down the cookbook and looks at him with a raised eyebrow. He takes a deep breath, "I'm bisexual." y/n's shoulders suddenly relax and she starts laughing.

He's confused and not sure what to do. She quickly explains through her laughter, "I'm sorry. I just thought you were going to say something horrible like you ran over a cat or something. I don't know." Taking a moment to calm herself she adds, "That's cool, I'm bi/pan. I also need to go to the bathroom, could you please watch the water and make sure it doesn't boil over? Please and thank you!"

She doesn't make a big deal over it because she just sees it as normal. It's nothing to celebrate about in her opinion, but she's glad Tim trusted her enough to tell her. Most of the family probably doesn't know her sexuality since she hasn't openly said it. It's just something that she doesn't feel the need to talk about.

Damian enters the picture when it's been almost a year since y/n quit. She is completely put off by how he behaves and has no idea how to handle it. He likes picking on his siblings, but when he picks on y/n it almost seems malicious. Whenever she tries to bond with him or get to know him, he just snaps at her.

Now she kinda knows how Dick felt.

Speaking of Dick, he starts coming around the manor more. Only for Damin of course and y/n can't help but feel almost a little jealous. He never took her out for bowling or anything when she was Damian's age. That jealousy then evaporates seconds later because she realizes how to stupid it is to be jealous over that. Damian needs a lot of help to be integrated into normal society.

Jabs made at her are brushed off as she believes that it's just him coping. He was in a new environment with new people, it was only natural for him to cope in some way regardless if it was healthy or not. His insults were never that bad. Often consisting of calling her worthless.

They were just jabs and nothing more. Not knowing that it was chipping away at her already fragile self confidence. Damian is part of the reason why she doesn't go to the batcave anymore or talk at the dinner table. Also always has something to say, something to nitpick. With how consistent it is, y/n goes to Bruce.

Asking if he could tell Damian to just knock it off just once. She thought that he'd talk to Damian and that things will cool down since she can't even get a word in without him saying something. It's not like he never listened to her anyway. Then Bruce tells her to bush it off. He's just a kid and he's going through a lot. Bruce doesn't even look up from his paperwork when saying this.

It was like y/n was smacked in the face. She wonders if he believes what Damian is saying. That she had no right to be living here with them or that just a freeloader. She felt like she couldn't go to Tim about this as she didn't want to emit that this kid's words were getting to her. She doesn't even want to go to Barbara about this.

Because maybe Damian is right.

y/n didn't deserve to be around heroes. All she did was waste their time when they could have been saving lives. They'd go to her fencing tournaments when they should be locking up villains. She was truly a waste of space.

Lowkey Damian wants y/n to fight him. He wants to see Batgirl in action and see what her fighting style would be like. To some extent he just wants her attention, but how he goes about it just pushes her away. He's seen her fencing a few times and is kinda impressed by her fast and fluent movements.

During her junior year at high school was when she started cutting off ties with the family. Never talking during dinner, never showing up at the dinner table. If she's not out of the manor then she's in her room. Everyone is so busy that no one notices her isolating herself. No one, but Barbara.

Barbara tries talking to y/n, but she is constantly shutting it down. Constantly running away from any conversion. Yet Barbara doesn't give up as usual. Unlike any other times y/n doesn't open up.

One day Barbara said something that made y/n let her walls down. "I'll alway make time for you." She stops walking, thinking to herself before looking over her shoulder and tells Barbara, "I have practice next monday, but after that we could go see a movie or something. If you want." The woman nods her head with a small smile.

Tim is no longer y/n's favorite. Not favorite, just no longer the one y/n hangs out with the most. Barbara is the only family member that y/n lets her walls down for. The only family member that she keeps in touch with.

When y/n gets a boyfriend. y/n makes a beeline toward Barbara for any advice. With how much she gushes over him, Barbara wants to meet him. It takes a while for the two to meet and when they do it's kinda awkward. Xander Jeremiah is every stoic and not sociable. Barbara doesn't know what to think of him, but if he does care about y/n that's all that really matters. 

Seeing the two of them interact reminds Barbara of those dumb intj and infp relationship memes she saw online.

y/n Young Adult (Present)

19 years old

y/n doesn't really tell the family much of any and would not be surprised if they didn't know she moved out after high school. As much as y/n wanted to get out of Gotham, she ended up staying because of best friend and boyfriend. Going to college and majoring in art. Barbara and y/n spend a little less time with each other, but still text almost daily.

y/n is forced to interact with her family after Jerome becomes a prominent figure in Gotham and has some odd obsession with her. After an incident at a charity event, y/n is persuaded into staying in the manor. She planned on staying for only a week or so. At least until Jerome was caught and sent to Arkham.

Damian is more mellowed out and almost makes an effort to talk to y/n, but she just tries to get away from him as soon as possible.

Tim is concerned about the aloofness y/n projects around others. Also highly suspicious of that blonde lady that comes around to talk to y/n. She's never been so secretive before and it hurts that she doesn't come to him about anything like she used to.

Jason still tries not to interact with y/n, but he lingers around the manor. He can't bring himself to forgive himself for physically hurting her all those years ago. He promised himself that he'd protect his little sister when he was Robin and broke it again by letting Gotham's newest psycho kidnap her.

Dick acts like everything is fine or is going to be fine. That he and y/n had always been somewhat close. Not taking a hint that he's overstepped a boundary that he never had the right to cross.

Bruce is Bruce. Bruceing around or something, y/n doesn't really know what he does anymore. He's the one who suggests that y/n relearn self defense and she agrees. It's been awhile since she even fought anyone, so she is a bit rusty.

Damian would have offered to teach her, but Dick and Tim are fighting over the possession. Tim wants to reconnect with y/n, back to being friends that have each other's backs. Dick is trying to help y/n. He has the most fighting exprace, so that means he should be the one to teach y/n. Jason is not going near y/n. In the end y/n had Bruce reteach her self defense. It was just like old times.

The whole time there the family is awkwardly interacting with y/n. When at the dinner table there are questions thrown at her. She answers just about any question almost curtly. The only question that she seems to avoid is about the blond lady. "She's just a friend." y/n claims, "Everyone just calls her Echo. It is a childhood name." It was clear that she was lying, everyone knew it, but no one called it out.

They always talked in private. In hushed tones and "Echo" never stayed for long. Honestly Tim thought that Echo was y/n's girlfriend after walking by her room when Echo was in there, he swears he heard y/n say I love you. When Tim told the other about this, Barbara was rolling her eyes. There was no way that y/n would cheat on Xander. Even if they broke up Barbara would have known, she assumes that y/n meant it in a platonic way. y/n has always been quite affectionate in both platonic and romantic relationships.

When Jerome is caught and sent to Arkham, y/n goes straight back to her apartment. It doesn't matter how much they try to get her to stay, Jerome is locked up and there is no reason for any intense security. If they try to counter her argument, she'll just drop the act and lay almost everything out.

"I don't want to be here, I don't belong here, and there isn't anything that is going to keep me here now that Jerome is in Arkham." Her voice wasn't loud, just tired and almost upset.

The most affected by her words is Damian ironically. Her words echo the things he said a while ago. He never gave a second thought of how it affected her. Hearing y/n say that and walk out the manor without looking back left him stunned. He didn't know what to do, what to say. That night he didn't sleep.

The family will try to keep their distance. Except for Damian and Dick. Dick will hang around the college campus and try to drag y/n off somewhere, if her best friend is with her then they'll drag her away before Dick is even able to say anything. Sadly her friend isn't always there, so there are some days she spends the afternoon at the zoo or amusement park with Dick. Damian will just show up at y/n's apartment and walk in like he owns the place. She has no idea how he got a spare key, but she is too busy trying to get him out to think about that.

Damian finds out y/n is in a big sister program and he'll screeching at her. "Why are you taking care of them? You're my big sister, not theirs! They don't have the right to call you their sister!" He's having a mental meltdown in the middle of her living room. She has no idea what the fuck it going on and doesn't know how to handle it. When she tries to calm him down, he starts throwing things and that's when she dials Dick's number.

Dick is able to calm Damian down and drives him back to the manor. Before they go Dick talks y/n. "You know how Damian is, he is very protective of those he cares about. I am just disappointed in both of you. He should haven't reacted that way, but you shouldn't be in that program in the first place. You already have Danian and I think this just made him feel like he isn't important to you." y/n has a severe case of whiplash after hearing what he just said. She can't argue back because he already left.

The rest of the family isn't going to become full blown yanderes until y/n's boyfriend is gassed by Jerome. y/n doesn't want to deal with the family's bullshit, but she goes to them for help. Revealing Jerome's twin brother, but not explicitly stating that Jeremiah is her boyfriend and begs for them to help in finding a cure. Barbara is the one in the room who is the most shocked by this information.

Spoiler they don't find a cure and when Jeremiah is pushed over the edge, that’s around the time they are too.

I'm cutting it off here. I wrote so much and I might pick this back up. I’ve just been listening to FNAF ambience music while writing this. Have yet to proofread this, so sorry for any and all mistakes.

Part 2