#turns u into more of a tool than a person

[froggiequarium]

747 words; some lads fluff of caleb praising u bc i deserve it (n so do u) :x

-

you trudge your way towards the kitchen, hunger evident after spending almost two hours reading and taking the first quiz of the semester, not even a week into the class.

seriously, what was up with that?

you let out a sigh when a voice rings you out of your thoughts.

"hey, pipsqueak!"

you're greeted by the familiar warm voice that makes any leftover tension in your shoulders ease almost instantly.

before you can respond, only being granted enough time to blink up at him, he speaks up again.

"finally droppin' in to say hi?"

you ignore his tease as you close the short distance, arms spreading to embrace him. he immediately welcomes you, one strong arm encircling your waist and easily pulling you towards his side, other hand preoccupied with the food cooking on the stove.

you nuzzle into the warmth of his side, breathing in his comforting scent, closing your eyes to bask in all that is him.

"m' hungry," you whine against the cloth of his shirt.

"is that all you see me as? your personal chef?"

"yes!" you answer playfully and all too quickly.

in the next second, you jolt, feeling a small slap against your ass.

"hey!"

he only laughs in amusement.

"so mean," you pout. "i was studying so hard, and i'm getting punished? how cruel..." you bury your face into his shirt, playfully sulking against him.

he hums, hand sliding up to your head as he pats your hair, other one using the tool in hand to stir the food in the pan.

"what, you want some praise or something?" he teases, not expecting an actual answer.

"yes," you answer maybe just a touch fast, looking up at him expectantly.

your honesty takes him by surprise for just a moment before a grin between teasing and loving crawls up his lips, setting the utensil down to reach over and turn the stove on low, hands now free to fully focus on you.

he looks down into your bright expectant eyes, all his attention on you, and you feel your heart race just a little bit faster in anticipation.

"you did so well, working so hard just a couple of days in," caleb coos at you, petting your head lovingly, nails lightly tracing at your scalp resembling a massage. he loves the way that satisfied grin creeps up your lips as you practically melt against him as you chase his touch, resembling a cat rubbing up against the affection its receiving from its owner.

his large hands slowly slide down the sides of your face before landing on your warm cheeks, almost engulfing them in his hold, squishing them just slightly and gently rubbing them.

"such a good girl, aren't you?"

the way your eyes slip shut and a sound akin to a pleased mewl escaping you as a response is something that makes his heart stutter in his chest.

even after all this time, you're still so cute to him.

"you must be hungry after working so hard, huh?"

you nod in response, hugging him closer, stealing his warmth almost trying to blanket yourself within it. as one of his hands slides down your back to rub gentle circles into it and the other one up to caress your head, you think you'll be able to fall asleep against him like this.

he chuckles warmly, feeling your body slump against him more and more with each passing minute, face buried into his chest. as much as he wants to stay like this, he doesn't want the freshly made lunch to go cold.

he slips his hand from its place on your back moving it to your shoulder, gently shaking you while the other pats your head twice, just slightly firmer than before. his voice comes out hushed in the gentle atmosphere that surrounds the both of you.

"hey, you don't want the food to get cold now, do you?"

you gently shake your head, and his hand— now flat on your head— moves it just enough to make you look back up at him, bleary eyes cracking open to meet his creased sunset ones.

"let me feed my smart baby and then we can nap together, yea? would you like that?"

"mhmm," you hum, giggling when you feel him maneuver your head to make you nod in agreement, almost not giving you a choice (not that you'd ever reject such an offer from caleb).

he smiles at your reaction, eyes dancing with mirth.

"you deserve this, after all. come on," he pats your head one more time, an obvious show of his affection for you for as long as you could remember.

"let's eat now, together."

just as it should be.

-

a/n: i just need some physical affection + some praise from him and i'll be easily fulfilled

-

[red-dyed-sarumane]

i have such high expectations for series things because aru sekai series itself has so much thought & detail & care put into it. it might read as nonsense at first but the more u pay attention the more context u get the more everything starts to click & make sense. a very fun way to use a medium to tell a story. theres a lot of other vocasong series but the dedication to minute details & throwing context in the background of mvs while otherwise being relatively simple mvs & just the constant tying things together theres just SO much to aru sekai series as a whole & individually & to see marshall maximizer get reduced to "fun currently popular voca song" does make me sad. its not an easy series to get into but also u are missing out on so much

[ketchuppee]

During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.

It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.

That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.

I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.

One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.

My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.

I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.

I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.

All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.

None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.

[flamestar126]

Dentist/teeth venting lol

[glamourscat]

Hi)

Saw your analysis on Kaiser, why can't you write about him and what he can be like in a relationship. You mentioned trauma, and I have a question for Shidou...

Yes, many in the fandom agree that Shidou most likely had a shitty (and even abusive) past, but in your opinion, what makes you think that Shidou (unlike Kaiser) wouldn't go down the path of manipulation/abuse in a relationship with someone, i.e. not projecting his possible traumas?

Thank you for your question, I hope I answered what u were wondering. Feel free to discuss it in the replies :)

Both Kaiser, and potentially Shidou, carry the weight of difficult pasts. However, their approaches to human connection couldn't be more different. Which is why a relationship with Kaiser would be destructive while with Shidou would be chaotic but not necessarily toxic.

In Shidou’s case we have a limited amount of infos. What we know is that he sees the world in this very artistic, peculiar way. And despite his strong presence on the field, off it, he doesn’t seem to hold the same characteristics (or at least not to the same degree.)

He is loud, anti conformist but most of all he has the most “sane” ego between the players. He plays for himself. He knows his strengths and weaknesses. Not only that, but it’s shown more than once that he compliments people who show real talent.

Unlike Kaiser, who feels threatened immediately when someone is better than him or sees it as a tool for dominance. Like I have said, Shidou recognizes and compliments others' unique strengths. He's not looking to break people down, he's actively acknowledging what makes them special while pushing himself to leave “a mark in this world”. This appreciation for individuality (which is the core of shidou’s character) suggests someone who'd be more likely to build up a partner rather than tear them down.

We also know he seeks physical touch and connection. From attaching to Sae immediately when, for the first time, he found someone who understood his way of playing. In a way it’s like a desperate reach of someone who’s trying to heal something deep within by physical touch, which in his case, could be the struggle in being different and misunderstood. His need for physical touch speaks to someone who's trying to reclaim what was taken from him rather than perpetuate a cycle of harm.

Kaiser weaponizes his past trauma, turning it into a shield and sword. He sees vulnerability as a weakness to use against you. Let’s look what happened with Ness for example. He knew from moment one that he was going to use him. Outside and inside the field. He made Ness codependent, using his vulnerability and naivety against him. A guy who wanted nothing but love and a sense of belonging, is turned into a puppet, because Kaiser knows despite his harsh words or actions, Ness will never leave.

Shidou wears his heart on his sleeve in the most beautifully chaotic way. He is honest, maybe to a brutal extent. But he doesn’t do that in a manipulative way, he does that because he is a honest person. When asked what made him cry recently, he gave that raw, honest answer about becoming nothing. That's not manipulation, that's pure, unfiltered emotional authenticity.

The projection of past trauma? Sure, it might happen. But, who doesn't carry some scars into relationships? But there's a huge difference between unconsciously working through your issues with a partner and deliberately manipulating them.

Would Shidou be a perfect partner? No. But he wouldn’t be a toxic, manipulative individual like Kaiser either. Shidou just... exists, in all his chaotic, genuine glory. His explosive side is confined to the field, showing the ability to compartmentalise rather than let his (possible) traumas bleed into every aspect of his life.

In the end, it comes down to this: while Kaiser isolates himself and pushes people away, Shidou actively tries to connect with others. His ways of connecting might not be conventional (they might be rough around the edges, maybe even a bit chaotic) but he's still trying to reach out and form genuine bonds with people. That's what makes him fundamentally different from Kaiser, who only seeks relationships to his benefit. That’s what would keep Shidou away from going down the same manipulative path as Kaiser.

[laikabu]

saw someone who hc kabru as aromantic bisexual. thats actually kinda good. i dont necessarily subscribe to it but i could see it. not fully aro but in the spectrum i guess

im now just going to ramble about how i think this would work in my head. also labru bc this is my page

he sees flirting more as a game n marriage as something convenient than something he aspires to achieve w the one he loves

flirting n dating is more of a tool to make friends. he isn’t interested in getting serious so that usually turns them off, so he gets labeled as a ‘player’

he doesn’t return rin’s feelings even though he finds her physically attractive, because he genuinely values her friendship and the way he views romance is incompatible with hers and would just break her heart

ok labru territory turn away now sorry im pulling shit out of my ass atp

laios would fit right in with his preferences, because their relationship would be boiled down to “best friends who have sex” like, the easiest way for them to explain their thing

even if they go on dates, they’d be more interested in talking about a current topic or something they need to do, than super sappy stuff. they still do it! but kabru would kinda get uncomfortable with saying sappy stuff, it’s different from flirting. once laios recognizes this, he tells him he doesnt have to do that

it works out because while laios is kinda sentimental, he isn’t really a romantic person. when they were still figuring stuff out, laios just goes “x is mad at me because they think not doing y makes me a bad partner” but really, kabru doesn’t care whether he does it or not

if laios is saying this about a different partner, kabru would chastise him, but since it’s him, he’s totally fine with none of that happening

when it comes to them becoming spouses, they would rather forgo a real wedding and just do the paperwork to make it happen. marcille takes offense to this n thinks its an “affront to romance” esp since kabru wants to plan HER wedding, but neither of them think it’s a big deal

laios has a very hard time distinguishing his platonic feelings to his romantic feelings. he’s just very happy kabru that wouldn’t leave him or get bored of him. getting to kiss him and have sex with him is just a nice bonus.

kissing and cuddling is more of an emotional recharge or comfort etc for kabru than a romantic activity. his friends don’t get it at all.

even in my stupid baby universe its just “kabru wants to have a baby with me for the kingdom? he’s such a nice guy. he told me he wants utaya to live on too… thats so thoughtful.” their relationship is ‘blunt’ and ‘convenient’. the marriage was just to legitimize the heir and otherwise it was just a regular wednesday.

they love each other, but kabru expresses it to the extent that he could, and that works out for laios.

tl;dr basically someone who views romance as a performance than something ingrained w him x someone who struggles w romance. its totally fine if you dont see kabru on the aromantic spectrum, i don’t necessarily see it that way either! i just want to think about how it would work in my fanworks. what do u think. i should add more but im just going off at the top of my head LOL

[genericpuff]

ten storylines u think could have been amazing in lo if they had been handled better?

10 already feels like so much for a story like LO buuttt:

1.) the act of wrath plotline, seriously this one felt like it had some of the most lost potential as one of LO's more unique plotlines (and it lost that potential as soon as it was turned into some "oopsy" committed by persephone due to her wrath being a 'gift' from eris when she was a baby??? still bugs me so much ugh) give me back that dichotomy of Persephone and her internalized wrath, dangit.

2.) the Eros and Psyche plotline. it started off so promising as a parallel B-plot to H x P and then seemed to just get dropped halfway through S1 when Psyche got turned into a nymph.

3.) Echo's involvement as a double agent for Zeus. that was clearly the intention when she was introduced but then she was promptly dropped and only showed up again to say "fuck you Zeus" with zero build-up or implication that she had a change of heart. Like imagine if we actually saw her leaking info back to Zeus but then also getting closer to Hera on a personal level and realizing that she didn't want to keep snitching on her. it would have also made the 'big reveal' of Hera kissing Echo a lot more impactful because then they would have had an actual story arc.

4.) Persephone's character development into becoming the Dread Queen. Right now the story wants us to think that Persephone is somehow "better than ever" despite the fact that her version of the "Dread Queen" is being an absolute Karen. But think of how it could have been if her character de-evolution was the point, to show how Hades had corrupted her. Or if they were meant to be actual shitty people and not shitty people that the narrative was trying to convince us were good.

5.) Hades' and Minthe's relationship. It goes without saying that Minthe was wrong to turn to physical violence, but I'll die on the hill that Minthe wasn't being treated fairly by Hades, either. Those three flashback episodes in S2 leading up to Minthe getting turned into a plant were such a missed opportunity to showcase how Minthe became as bitter as she did towards Hades and what their relationship was actually like in the beginning (and why they liked each other in the first place which they very clearly did) but instead it just dragged its heels because obv Rachel didn't want people empathizing with Minthe.

6.) Ares being used as a tool for war by Zeus. It's clear being sent off to these wars is taking its toll on him and it's created a steep divide within the family, especially concerning how protective Ares is of Hera esp when it comes to how Zeus treats her.

7.) The Aphrodite / Hephaestus plotline. Good god I have no idea what the thought process was behind this one, some of the myths she kinda got away with flipping but this was the one that made the least sense to flip. There was so much potential there that was squandered, a lot of it at the expense of Aphrodite and Ares as traditionally powerful and respected gods.

8.) Hades' alcoholism. Minthe was right, simply falling for Persephone and dropping the cigars and brandy to make himself look better for her doesn't make him a changed person. If the alcoholism was linked to his trauma, why didn't we explore that more? Why couldn't we have seen him actually pursue proper recovery and have it not just be "I'm hot for the 19 year old girl but if I'm drinking constantly that'll make me look bad so I'm just gonna put on the best fake persona I can to make her fall in love with me" instead of actually getting to the root of his issues?

9.) The SA plotline. As much as I talk about how shitty it is, I have zero issue with the original depiction of it, I think it was very accurate especially when it comes to coercion. A lot of people assume SA has to be violent, kicking and screaming, begging for help, but coercive assault is often a lot quieter and more about manipulation which that scene nailed in depicting. It's just everything after that that feels completely misfired and more so for the purpose of making Hades look like a better person simply by comparing him to Apollo on the basis of "he never assaulted Persephone!" and it drives me nuts.

10.) Demeter's winter. In the most recent FP episode, while discussing it with pals, all I could really say was, "This was supposed to be a retelling of the Abduction of Persephone". And Demeter's winter is a core part of that story, one of its biggest purposes in Greek culture was using the myths to explain the creation of the seasons. Despite this being a "retelling" of the Abduction of Persephone / Hymn to Demeter, one of the most important characters in the entire myth has been reduced to, at worst, a Mother Gothel Disney villain, and at best, a pointless NPC.

[itoshiexx]

scraps

synopsis: you give him all you have. it's time to collect the scraps before there is nothing left.

pairing: itoshi sae x gn!reader | words: 797 | warnings: established relationship, angst

notes: do u guys remember the sae drabble i told y'all about some time ago? well, my depressive ass decided to post it now. i'm sorry in advance.

masterlist

the silence is deafening. it lingers thick and heavy in the air, nearly making you choke on nothing — or perhaps you’re choking on all the things you want to say that are stuck in your throat. you can feel your whole body trembling as the anxiety creeps further in, and you wrap your arms around yourself to try and bring some comfort. 

before, it was someone else’s arms that gave you peace, but lately, it has only been torment. 

it is why you’re standing in the living room of your shared apartment, staring at the teal eyes of itoshi sae while trying to hold back your own tears. it hurts. it hurts to look at him and remember the way he used one of your weaknesses against you in the argument you had minutes before, as if stabbing a wound that didn’t quite close properly, tearing the skin at the seams and turning it into a bigger, uglier, messier scar. 

you feel violated. 

perhaps you should have known better. maybe, if you listened to your mother, you wouldn’t have shown so much of yourself to sae, basking in a vulnerability that could only come back to bite you in the end. you gave him all the tools to hurt you where it stings most, and there was no one to blame but yourself for that. 

love made you foolish. you were tired. 

“i don’t think i can do this anymore, sae.” your voice is meek and hollow. only a shell of the person you used to be — the one that bled through its heart until all the life was drained. 

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, brow arched. defensive. ready to hurt you some more in case he became slightly uncomfortable. 

you breathe. in and out. in and out. rubbing your arm with your own hand, whispering to yourself under your breath that everything was going to be alright. even if it felt like nothing but that. 

“you… you’re hurting me, sae,” you manage to say with the lump in your throat. “you have been for a while. and i try to be better, but i… i can’t do this alone. and you’re not even trying.”

the tears welled up in your lash line start to fall again, and at this point, you know it’s useless to try and stop them. you also know they are the only thing that keep you sane, even if it feels like you’re losing your mind at every breath you take. 

sae doesn’t say anything, and you actually consider that a blessing. you don’t know how much more of his venomous words you can take before it destroys you completely from the inside out. something tells you his toxin has been spreading through your body for a while, although you only started to notice recently, when the fights got worse.

how long has he been killing you?

the weight of this question is enough to spike your anxiety once again, and you dig your nails on the skin of your arms to try to detain these overwhelming feelings, squeezing your eyes shut.

you nearly jump when you feel his strong arms circling your shoulders, bringing your head to his chest. you squirm and try to fight it — fight him —, but sae is stronger and more stubborn than you could ever be, and all you can do is cry harder and blow weak punches to his torso. 

“i’m sorry,” he says. it’s not the first time. the words make your stupid heart flutter with hope, but the hurt brings you back to reality. it’s not the first time, and he has done nothing to change for the better. he never fucking listens.

“you’re so mean,” you cry, ceasing the punches due to your lack of strength. you can barely keep standing, and you’re sure that his hold is the only thing keeping you from falling. “why are you so mean to me, sae?”

he’s silent again. you keep going. “i gave you my everything. i loved you with all i had. i-i opened up to you like never before, and you… you just…”

your stomach sinks. there aren’t even words to express what you’re feeling nor what he’s doing to you — the many ways he has been destroying what you spent years trying to put back together.

you were tired. 

in a final attempt to save what’s left of you, you raise your head from his chest to look deep into his aquamarine eyes. you want him to look at yours, too. 

“sae,” your voice is nothing more than a hollow whisper. you take a deep breath, garning all the strength and courage you can.

and then, you plea for the last time:

“please, give back what’s left of my heart.”

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[fordpinesthemanyouare]

Ford x Fem!Reader

Math Assistant Pt.1

Summary: Ford needs himself an assistant, Stanley makes an online post for him and BOOM there you are, coming to meet him for an interview at the diner.

Warnings: Erm... this is a nothing sandwich I THINK. Please let me know if I should add something

A/N: My brothers in christ please this is my first fic that I wrote on a whim, I had an idea and I started writing. I have never written fan ficiton in my life so pls be nice... also who up wit dey werm to Stanford Pines HOOBA HOOBA!!!!! Okay also I want to write SMUT for this so imagine this is like the really really really long winded plot to the porno. K thanks bye read if u want or dont i dont control you.

——————

Ford shook his head at Stanley who was seated in front of a new computer now placed in the living room, “I’m still confused on why we should be posting the ad listing “online” rather than the local paper, or putting up flyers around town.” Ford used air quotes for emphasis, he still found the whole idea strange, he liked the computer for being a tool he could use to further research. He didn't like it so much as a vessel for finding candidates for a job he was offering, the thought that he had no idea who was communicating with him unsettled him a bit. Especially knowing the kind of work he was going to be having this future assistant… well assist with.

“Because yer never going to find someone with the qualifications yer asking for in this town” Stan looked over his shoulder at a crossed arm Ford. “Hiring someone for a summer job who has a PhD in Application Math, whatever that means-“

“Applied Mathematics, Stanley” Ford interrupted.

“Whatever it is you're not going to find that here, you and fiddleford are probably the only people in this town to actually have a college degree” he said with a chuckle, turning back to the computer. He was clicking around on some website that Ford had never heard of, let alone just recently finding out what the internet was. “I'm setting up a job listing on some of the local college websites, ya know for people that are studying or just done studying”. The clicking of the mouse and the typing of keys continued as Ford ran the motion through his head, overthinking perhaps every outcome of Stanley posting that job listing. Ultimately though Ford knew he was right in that, no one with at least a degree in Applied Mathematics was going to be residing nearby.

“Just please be careful about the information you include in this job posting, try to keep it minimal as possible. If they ask more questions about specifics you can let them know that I can explain in person.”

Stan looked over his shoulder, his eyebrows slightly downturned with a smirk rising on his face, “I didn’t realize you had hired me to be your assistant, you're going to have to cough up if you want me to do this for you”. Ford groaned in annoyance of his brother, “Stanley you know I don’t know how to use any of that”.

“Exactly why you're going to want to have me help you out with this”, Stanley moved his arm to drape across the back of the chair he was in, looking more directly at him. “That’ll be twenty dollars”, he held out his hand expectantly at his twin. A beat of silence passed between the two as they had a small staring contest, both men’s brows furrowed at the other.

Ford finally reached for his back pocket after he felt he had glared at his brother enough, he slipped a twenty dollar bill from the leather wallet and practically slammed it in his hand before walking in the opposite direction without a word. While Stan on the other hand, was more than beaming when he saw Ford’s hand fall to his back pocket, Stan half shouted as Ford strode out of the room.

“You’ll thank me later when I find the perfect candidate!” He laughed as he said it and returned to more clicking and typing around the website.

Ford returned to the lab to finish up some things before the kids were scheduled to get there later in the month. When they returned from the long months at the ocean, Ford wanted nothing more than to work on something in his lab again. He loved feeling the anticipation of a project becoming something, but of course he knew he could easily get carried away. After Dipper and Mabel left last summer, before Stanley and him were going to head out, he had made a major discovery while working in the lab. He had discovered an atom that was capable of recreating a direct clone of itself and in as many atoms he could count. He continued to work on the project until Stanley was practically dragging him from the house to leave to sail around the world.

While sailing towards one of their final destinations at the end of the trip, Ford finally opened up to Stanley about his worries of falling into the same pits as before. He was worried that he would become too involved, as he already felt himself doing as they were leaving for their trip. He also desperately needed some alone time from Stanley, but he didn’t mention that to him while they were on the boat.

“What if you hired someone to help you with the project?” Stan had offered a possible solution, while he had sat in the boat looking at Ford who was deep in thought over his dilemma. “I mean obviously the last time that happened, it wasn’t great either…” He trailed off after the look on Ford’s face became apparent, regretting the thought of his old college friend.

“I know the last time wasn’t great” Stanley pushed forward, “but maybe if you have someone hired to help with the smaller stuff. Things like using the calculator or something, whatever the small stuff even is to you” he said the last part under a fake cough which earned him a glare from his brother. However, the idea wasn't… terrible, Ford thought. He pondered over the possibilities of having someone helping him out, along with having the two kids upstairs to bother him. If he were to have someone who he didn't have to know that well take on most of the minor details, the equations and such, he would be able to prioritize the best parts of the project while also having time for his family. At least, that’s what he had hoped for when Stanley initially offered the idea.

“That could be a good idea…” Ford said after taking several moments to ponder the possibilities. “I would need someone who could do advanced mathematical equations, with room for equations that could possibly extend what they know…”. Stanley just looked at him deep in thought, wondering how there could be that many things to think about, the answer seemed clear to him.

Back in the lab, Ford could hear Stanley groaning loudly about some ‘unknown error message’. He continued to monitor and take note of the atoms under his advanced microscope for a while, waiting until Stanley had further news of any postings. He wondered what his new assistant would be like, if they could have the same passion for knowledge and understanding as he does.

———

A few days had passed, Ford falling into old habits quickly, holing himself up in the lab for hours upon hours. The only time he was seen over the last 48 hours was to grab more coffee from the kitchen, he caught naps in between work, falling asleep over his piles of scrap paper filled with numbers and letters. Ford had not anticipated how much mathematical reasoning was going to follow the atom cloning discovery, he was falling behind on moving forward with more discoveries on the atoms, but over hundreds of miniscule details that needed solving kept him at the desk. Stan walked down on the 49th hour of Ford’s lock down in the basement, opening the door noisily and making as much noise as possible on the way down to let him know he was on the way. Ford was scribbling away on the nth page of scrap work, crossing out failed attempts of solving equations as Stan broached the lab floor.

Stan awkwardly cleared his throat at Ford when he didn’t turn around, even though Stanley was sure to have made enough noise on the way down. Ford turned his head over his shoulder, his body seeming to not want to move from the space it had cramped into. He raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner, as if asking ‘What? Im busy’. Stan gave a huff of annoyance before starting,

“I have about 3 applications that I thought were worth looking over, most of the idiots who applied didn’t even have math degrees. All they see in the listing is free housing and they flock like birds trying to claw their way in” he said with a slight chuckle. He strided over to Ford’s desk, as Ford leaned back finally interested in what Stan was saying. He took the papers from Stanley and began to look over them. He began thumbing through the few resumes, looking over each one carefully noting that all three people had at least some qualifications in mathematics. He looked up to Stan and gave him a tight smile.

“I appreciate you getting these for me, I’ll reach out to the ones I feel are qualified.” A beat passed between them, Ford paused for a second wondering if he should just return to work at this point or if Stanley had something else since he hasn't made any move to leave.

“I think the one on the bottom will be the best fit.” Stan said with a certain look in his face that Ford couldn’t place, as he turned to leave. Ford looked at him as he walked towards the stairs with a questioning look on his face, wondering what could have led his brother to place a preference on one of these resumes even though he didn't know what applied mathematics was. As Stan trudged up the stairs Ford called to his brother,

“I'll be sure to look at that one, thank you Stanley.” Which made Stanley pause and turn to look at Ford, a distant smile on his face as he nodded and continued up the stairs. Ford turned back to his desk and pulled the resume on the bottom up to the top, the header in nice bold letters a fine print used, he noted.

Y/N YL/N

He also took note that this was the only two-page resume offered to him, with the education list taking up most of the room. Several universities/schools were listed and his eyes read over the names and degrees that followed. He read all the way to the bottom where it listed your highschool with graduation dated in 1999. He noted this person was in their early 30’s with several bachelors degrees in several sciences, two master’s degrees in statistics and biology, and of course a Ph.D in applied mathematics. The latest graduation listed was University of Oregon masters program in statistics for April, which he noted it was now early May noting it would be fresh on the mind. He moved your resume to the back of the small stack, looking over the first two he skipped over, and honestly he wished he saved yours for last. The first two were jokes compared to the advanced knowledge you listed, he set the first aside after noting that the education list was no longer than a paragraph, and the second resume didn’t take long to set aside either as his eyes raked in the many spelling errors.

He read over your resume again looking for a way to contact you to set up the interview. He noted the phone number and email in the corner of the first page, and made to move upstairs to the kitchen phone. As he stood up however, his muscles almost molded into place from sitting at the desk, stopped him from moving further. He groaned as he began to stretch himself out, thinking about how he couldnt wait to stop looking at math problems for hours on end.

Heading back upstairs he reached the phone and quickly gazed at the microwave clock, 3:49 pm. He was glad it wasn’t later than five, as he picked up the corded receiver and began to punch in the numbers. The phone rang a few times before your voice fluttered over the phone, “Hello?”. Ford cleared his throat awkwardly, “Hello! Yes, is this Y/N YL/N? Oh it is, great, this is Stanford Pines calling about a job posting for the assistant position. I was hoping to set up an interview to discuss further details of the position.”

“I was just wondering if I would hear back from this offer,” the light voice on the other end laughed a pleasant laugh a little before continuing, “I’d love to join you for an interview regarding the position, I’m free anytime, anywhere this coming week and the next.”.

Ford offered a time for tomorrow at the local diner, which he provided the address to. The voice on the phone wished Ford a great rest of his night and that they would see him tomorrow. Ford wished them the normal pleasantries he hated to conduct while making mundane phone calls such as these. He was slightly relieved to find you weren’t completely strange, at least right off the bat. When he hung the phone back on the hanger, Stan suddenly spoke, causing Ford to jump from the lack of warning.

“So did you end up going with the one I said?” Stan looked smug as Ford met his gaze, knowing damn well he scared Ford on purpose. Ford rolled his eyes after he settled after the slight scare,

“Unsurprisingly, as you could probably assume. You shouldn’t have even bothered with the other two. One only had a few community college classes under their belt.” Ford turned to make more coffee, he figured he would stretch his legs now as he was planning on working on some more equations before the meeting tomorrow. Stan gave a hearty laugh, “She’s also quite the looker, surprised me when I was pulling resumes”. Ford gave his brother a look as he asked, “Can’t you make your picture anything you want online?”. He remembers when they got the computer last time the kids were here, Dipper had shown him how he had his profile for online DD&MD. He absolutely didn’t understand it, but Dipper assured him this summer he would teach him. Which would benefit him from not having to pay Stanley anytime he needed something done the modern way (this was not often).

“Yeah but this was on a college website, everyone has their picture I think. It looks all like student ID’s… Oh don’t look at me like that! I looked at all of their profile pictures. She just happened to have the best looking picture.” Stan finished with a shrug and a laugh. Ford had looked at him like he was crazy for looking through all the people who applied profile pictures before feeling the need to ask, “You did give me recommendations on experience, not looks correct?”.

Stan shook his head, “I know you would kill me if I passed on a math nerd over an actual good looking girl” he laughed, turning “I'm going to head out gotta meet some people, don’t wait up for me.” Stan said as he was walking out the door, grabbing the keys as he slammed the door. Ford shook his head and decided to take his brother's word for it, his mind replaying what his twin mentioned, “quite the looker” as if that could have any effect on anything. Ford thought he didn't care much at all for how a person appeared as long as they could solve these problems that's all that mattered, and maybe that they were decently pleasant to work with. He couldnt help but reflect back to the phone call, your light and airy voice filling his ear with pleasant sound, at least you didnt have a horrible voice and he could probably get used to hearing that voice more often, he thought. Ford filled his cup with coffee and headed back downstairs not giving the interview tomorrow much more thought than your voice on the phone.

—————

A/N: Yay I did it!!! yeah so what if its a nothing sandwich?? Didnt i literally say that before hand.. hope you enjoyed if ya read! <3

[hinamie]

i normally don’t contribute much of my opinions on chapter content n themes bc a. i think my role in fandom spaces is that of a fanartist and I want to keep my art at the forefront, and b. I am Insecure about how little of the manga I have actually consumed and don’t think I have a solid foundation on which i can offer any coherent arguments or insight. generally I like to leave the long meta 2 people who have been genuinely invested in delving into the manga with the intent of analyzing it . y'all do gods work u are the reason i am not flying through this series completely blind

that being said, i am not here to give criticism on pacing or story cohesion bc quite simply, that is not my wheelhouse. i do, however, want to offer my 2 cents on the concept of choosing to live for others as someone who (like a lot of people is the vibe i’m getting) also struggles w depression and self-worth issues and sees aspects of themselves in megumi as a result. i want to reiterate tht this is not an analysis, these r just my gojo voice personal feelings n u r allowed 2 feel differently based on your own experience :)

let me just say first of all that I can 100% empathize with people wanting to see megumi choose to live fr himself after a lifetime spent in a system notorious fr stripping people of their agency and turning them into tools. i think in a perfect world he Does come to the realization that he’s worth living for. but i also think that him /not/ having crossed that bridge yet is also a very valid n realistic outcome. he's a kid, he's just had the worst experience of his life, he's traumatized and then some -- i only have a bachelor's in psychology and god knows i'm no doctor but personally i wouldn't call that a mental space where self-love is likely to stick

it’s hard to claw yourself out from rock bottom. to expect someone to immediately be able to make the transition from being in the worst mental state of their life to realizing that they are worthy as a person is a tall order that i honestly don't think many people wld b able to fulfil. /I/ certainly haven’t been, and living for others has honestly been what’s kept me going for a long fucking time. even when I’m not necessarily at a low point, I still rly struggle w liking myself n thinking i’m a good person, but what’s been a genuine lifeline fr me when i can't love myself is to direct that love Outwards. If nothing else I know that I have things I can create, and things I can offer others. I've spent countless hours forcing myself to acknowledge that, no matter how much i don’t believe them, if the people around me insist that they see something of value in me or in my work; something tht makes them love me Despite, then that alone is worth staying alive for.

i personally (although i can see how others wld disagree) don’t view the 'living for others' frame of mind as waiting for someone to save you, but rather as holding out hope that there is More out there than your own self-loathing will let you believe. For megumi, it wld seem that his something more was the people he cares about. Yuuji gave him the agency to choose whether or not to keep living, and megumi made that decision of his own accord, which fr someone at their absolute lowest is still a huge achievement! there was agency in that decision, there was selfishness--regardless of the underlying motivation it proved that he /wants/ to live. little side note but i think that megumi Making a selfish decision to live for others' sake should also give a bit of hope that he does have it in him to eventually be able to b equally selfish in the value he places on himself.

anyway that's what i got source: i'm depressed . n look i get that with so little of jjk left, it Is frustrating that we probably Won't see megumi come to the conclusion that he's worthy and that he should live for and love himself. but at the same time i don't think that his decision to keep living for others should b condemned either, bc as someone who has also yet to cross that bridge, sometimes that rly is the first step

[yoitsjay]

I got u bestie, some awkward lover fluff coming right up.

Something New

Pairings: Tech x fem jedi! Reader

Summary: you and Tech have feelings for each other, though as a jedi romantic attachments have always been forbidden to you, and as a clone Tech wasn't allowed, nor did he ever find someone he was so drawn too. But now that the jedi order and the republic is gone, you are free to explore... as inexperienced as you both are.

Warnings: cute fluff, awkward kissing, like two teenagers who've never been romantically involved before. Cute date, we love Tech.

Word count: 1,297

A/n: I won't do smut unless specifically requested, and I do take smut requests for future reference.

Maybe it was the fact that Jedi weren’t allowed to love someone, or weren’t really allowed to have many friends. Yet despite that there always seemed to be something that a jedi was attached to, whether it be a memento from their homeworld, or from a citizen off world or even on Coruscant. Some jedi were very traditional, and you knew this, but you also knew plenty of jedi who held attachments to various people, and yet, they could let that person go when the time called to let them go. If that makes any sense.

You were not one of those jedi.

It was something that the council tried to remove from your mind, the inability to let personal possessions go, but every attempt they did make was always unsuccessful.

You were defective, but you were an extraordinary warrior with skill that they could not replace, so the only thing they could really do to get rid of you, but also keep you around was to pair you with a Commando clone unit that was also defective.

That was the council’s biggest mistake.

Because now here you were, head over heels in love, or at least what you assumed was love, since you had never really felt it before- with one of the defective clones from your unit.

No it was not Hunter, as much as you cared for him, and thought he was handsome, he hadn’t swayed your affections quite like Tech has.

You had been fighting alongside the bad batch basically since they were first put into action, which has been a couple years now, but after Kaller, after the clone wars had ended, you could feel things change.

And you started noticing more things, less oblivious things than what you had noticed before, and they were all coming from Tech.

At first there were such miniscule things that you almost didn’t catch, like the way his gloved fingers would brush against yours as you handed him a tool, or the way he had started leaning over you slightly whenever you were piloting the marauder.

But then there were the more obvious things, like him finding wild (and safe) flowers from different planets you traveled to, and he'd always give to you, every single time without fail. The flowers then turned to small gifts, and inanimate objects or pieces of jewelry. He even gave you new beads to decorate your lightsaber or hair with.

You asked him why he was giving you all these things, and asked if he wanted something in return or if he needed a favor, any way you could repay him for being so kind. All he did was brush it off and say it was nothing.

So you asked the next best person.

Hunter.

-

“He’s- he’s what?” Hunter asked, having nearly spit out his caf the minute you approached and told Hunter what Tech was doing. You sighed, and repeated yourself, looking at Hunter expectantly.

Hunter cleared his throat and glanced around before he set his caf down on top of gonky, who just happened to be nearby, and Hunter was practically grinning.

“What is it Hunter? Spit it out.” You ordered, though there was no real authority on your voice, sure you used to be their general, but Hunter was always the leader.

Hunter let out a soft chuckle before he stood up from his seat, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Tech is- well… he’s courting you… It's a mandalorian tradition, and he thought it was the best way to try and get his affections for you out in the air.” Hunter explained, and you press your lips into a thin line and look away for a moment, as if thinking.

Then you can’t stop the smile from growing on your face and you practically race off the Marauder to where Tech is working on repairs. When he hears your footsteps he looks up, only to grunt as he is tackled to the ground, his tools now dropped as he lays on his back, staring up at a grinning idiot…

His grinning idiot.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Tech asked immediately, rather than letting any other thought cross his mind, especially the one where your perched on top of him and he could easily just-

No- bad Tech, don’t think like that-

“I love you too!” You blurt out loudly before you can stop yourself, and Tech’s eyes narrow in confusion, before widening as he realizes what you were talking about, which means you found out about his courting methods…

“I’m sorry I should have told you from the beginning that I was harboring- wait what?”

You loo0ked down at Tech, tilting your head slightly as you chuckled, moving off of him and onto the ground in front of him, pulling him up so he was sitting in front of you.

“I said I like you too, Tech, i’ve- god i’ve been feeling- i don’t even know what- for you- since my first month working with you in the clone wars- i just… well- i never said anything because it was forbidden…” You trailed off, looking away from Tech, noticing that he was just staring at you.

A few beats of silence and you look up at Tech again.

“Please say something Tech, i-”

Before you could say another word, tech is the one that lunges for you next, his gloved hands grasping at the meat of your thighs as he tugs you close to him. You hadn’t noticed, but Tech had taken off his helmet and set it neatly on the ground beside him, so the minute his lips were on yours, you jumped.

He went to pull away, to apologize but you didn’t let him, grasping his face in your hands, tugging him right back into you.

The kiss was very awkward, very inexperienced, and was a clash of tongue and teeth, which you assumed couldn’t be right… Despite that, as you pulled away from Tech, you both were quite breathless, unwilling to remove your hands from each other.

Your soft laugh was the first to break the silence, followed by his amused chuckles, which then lead to you bursting out in laughter as you pressed your face into tech’s chestplate.

“God that was horrible.” You muttered, looking up at Tech, who was smiling slightly. “Indeed, it seems like we are both inexperienced when it comes to this… I do not like that feeling.” He mused, and another chuckle left your lips, grabbing his hand as he stood up and offered it to you.

You got up to your feet with Tech’s help, and now had your arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders, feeling his hands on the dip in your waist.

“We can always practice, do some research.” You suggested softly, tilting your head as you stared up at him, seeing that little smile return to his lips.

“That is an excellent idea, Y/n, i would like to begin immediately.” he stated, and with that he was dragging you into the Marauder and to his bunk, where he promptly removed his armor as you climbed up the ladder, chasing after you as soon as his armor was off.

He closed the curtain, and the little bunk area lit up under a soft orange glow.

Your giggles could be heard throughout the Marauder, which was quite annoying for Hunter after a while so he ended up leaving… not before he shouted out a quick goodbye.

“Where a condom!” Hunter called out as he exited the ramp which promptly closed behind him as he exited the Marauder…

And that only made your and Tech’s laughter worse…

Though now you had the whole Marauder to test out yours and Tech’s experiments…

You couldn’t wait to start.

➺

Tech tag:

@chibai06 @thebadbatchfan

Tbb:

@only-my-unexistent-fiances

All:

@moomoog017

[serqphites]

hiiii katie!! i’ve been in a massive longlegs phase (mostly bc of lee let’s be honest) and your blog has been a GODSEND 🤍 i’ve been thinking of writing a lee fic for a while but i had a lil idea that i wanted to send your way 🤭

i cannot get over the idea of wife!lee with r on a beach trip—especially if her wife fucking loooves it. she’s not a huge fan of going to the beach (her autistic ass does not fuck with sand) but she’ll go every couple of years bc ofc she’s going to deal with it for her woman!!!!! she’d sit on the beach watching r letting herself get absolutely DEMOLISHED by waves and she thinks it’s cutie af. she will (VERY reluctantly) get in the water once her twice but if something touches her leg? she’s screaming like he arm is getting chopped off she would HATE THATTT.

lol that’s all!! i just love ur blog and i would love to see u expand on this because ur like The Lee Harker Blog Ever for me :) much love 🤍🤍

— gracie

hello gracie !! oh my god PLEASE write a lee fic i will reblog it until the day that i die. also so honoured you wanted to send this my way hello?? i could cry 🫶 AND THEN YOU ALSO SAID IM THE LEE HARKER BLOG FOR YOU?? sobbing throwing up rolling around on the floor literally deceased

—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—

lee fucking HATESSSS the beach (girl me too) her autistic ass can’t handle it. the sand sticking to her? AHHHHH. the water that’s freezing and lowkey stinks? FUCKKKKK. yeah no this really isn’t for her.

except for the fact it now is because her wife loves it arguably more than she loves her!!

god i can just picture it now, you’re walking onto the beach so fucking happy to finally be back after not going for ages (lee cried and locked herself inside the house the last time you tried to go), and then there’s lee… 🧍‍♀️ girly is just stood on the pathway that leads up to the sand, your bags and folded up towels in hand as she refuses to take just one little step forward onto the sand.

you have to push her to the spot you’d like your towels placed

lee sits on her towel and doesn’t move, she won’t even uncross her legs. she’s just sat awkwardly leaning over the towel so she can make you a sandcastle <3 she’s using various children’s tools she’d ordered from amazon to build, picking up the shells around her to turn them into decoration.

she’s so proud of herself when you come back from the water for a drink 😭 “honey! look what i made you” and she’s all shyyyy

also lee is 100% the kind of person to write your initials in a heart in the sand, and not small too she wants it to be seen by everyone, just so they all get the message (aka “stop staring at my wife’s ass you pervs”).

ice creams on the beach!!! lee is so mad at the wasps swarming her LMAOOO you’re actually petrified so you’ve moved, poor lee is trying to be brave and impress you but if they get too close she drops her act to scream like a child.

after hours of trying to convince her to get into the water, she finally agrees! you lead her to the water (despite her purposefully moving slower than a sloth) and let go of her hand to make your way in, assuming she’d follow.

🧍‍♀️”i don’t want to :/”

SHES SO CUTE I CANT IM LITERALLY ABT TO CRY JUST THINKING ABT HER

“come on baby you can do it! it’s just water!” you attempt to encourage her, and surprisingly it works. lee veryyy slowly starts inching her way towards the water, a wave crashing into her ankle just as she does so. she makes various weird noises, you know when you eat something that feels like it’s just come straight out of a volcano? it sounds something like that.

but hey she’s doing it! she’s walking towards you with a big smile on her face, your expression mirroring her own. that is until lee feels something slimy wrapping around her leg, imagine the scream she lets out when she glances down to discover there’s a green alien trying to worm its way inside of her (there’s seaweed on her leg).

my girl runs for the hills. screaming like she’s being tortured before dropping onto the sand and swatting her attacker away (which is again, seaweed).

you make your way over to her in an instant, removing the seaweed from her leg as you stifle a laugh. the woman, your wife, now caked head to toe in sand… even the poor girls eyelashes have sand in them.

“can we go home please?” poor baby :(

once you’ve returned to the comfort of your own home, lee gets the most cuddles she’s ever gotten from you in her life. despite her silliness (not silliness, she was very viciously attacked by aliens) you’re still so incredibly proud of her for facing her fears and going on a fun little adventure with you.

[mako-neexu]

"surely this time i will be normal for one day"

[suddenly remembers prison tower is supposed to end you bc goetia planned it but dantes took on the role of being your abbe faria and became your tiny light of hope in this prison of despair because he himself knows better than anyone how it feels to be an innocent soul, to be dragged and trapped in a life of despair, betrayal, and be casted away in a hell where madmen dont come out alive and so saves you by killing him, "the one who escaped the chateau d'lf", he's also summoned initially as a tool to kill you but dantes, initially being just a shadow, made ogawa heim because 'fuck u goetia' and caught feelings seeing guda's iron determination so fought alongside them and against the one who gave him a demon worm in his head. and just as he became your tiny light of hope in prison tower, you get to see him casually admit guda is his "destiny" and saw them as someone who is "radiant" after going through everything with them…like you know, a star. thats why both his np refer to guda in the new saint graph. because a star burns brighter than flames, more dazzlingly than fire that he himself is in awe of you and made a new alt solely because of you, inspired by you, even as he hurt himself by creating a new spirit origin, because his wish is solely for you to see the end of your journey and reach antarctica, because guda is a person -is a living human - who wants to see tomorrow and thus he split himself into two- or rather assigned himself and his other self in the singularity "count of determination (to bring about the 7 tribulations)" and as the "count of regret (you, his worry, who has to go through this harsh journey)". count of determination is the one who enacted the trials, because he is the spirit origin who is a ruthless murderer from his revenge story and thus must make sure guda goes through the merciless trials to go forward, yet count of regret is still worried all the same for guda considering the dangers of creating this world and with cagliostro around and other unpredictable variables, and in this ongoing journey thats why "black shadow" count is still on the look out for you. and in these trials he is both your ally and enemy that you must overcome because he wants!! you!! to move forward!!! even as you face your most trusted betray you, overcoming despair and hatred even as you drown in hopelessness seeing those you love die, overcoming his flames and as he extends a hand out and tempt you into a life where where you are a god of revenge, reaching an end that you hope for- a tomorrow that you want. (because we dont know what happened to the "real" dantes whereas dumas' version wrote that love extinguished his flames, and so left france behind with haydee. a fictional happy end that most likely didnt apply to the real dantes given his attitude to dumas and his version of the story since they never interacted again beyond dumas talking about writing his tale. )

an end that also isnt part of the famous Avenger, Count of Monte Cristo summoned to the grand order, only the popular interpretation/parts that people remember the most engraved in his spirit origin. and for him, this avenger, this part of his life where he is at his lowest who became your tiny light of hope in that prison tower, despite burning with eternal hatred chose love time and time again, save you, help you time and time again, because he doesnt want you to end up like him. one who has lost all things precious to you and so turning into a life of vengeance and blood, burning everything to cinders until you as well consume yourself, losing yourself in the process, becoming an empty shell, quietly dying as emptiness and quietness takeover the aftermath of those flames. you, as radiant as a star, don't deserve that kind of fate. you, his accomplice, his co-conspirator should never succumb to or have that kind of fate where only hate, sorrow and despair awaits you at the end nor does he want your journey to be at a standstill, idle, where you are helpless the more this story- this journey drags on and unable to move forward because of forces beyond your control.]

[through my teeth/clenches my fists] "oh. okay. so we're doing this now. okay."

[kavehnanginto]

if you hold me without hurting me (you’ll be the first to ever did)

pairings: childe, diluc, kaeya, kaveh

synopsis: life was nothing but pain, from the past to the present, it all bleaks of lost dreams and broken records of what life should’ve been. and now that you’re here they wonder if you too is but a temporary moment of happiness that turns into a melancholic memory

tags: depressed boys, again, trust issues abt u, mentions of death, mommy kinda leave kaveh, thats so sad, their parents kinda died, daddy issues, HEAVY CAPITALIZATION ON DADDY ISSUES, lana del rey song mhm, there is some fluff, please trust me

CHILDE is, for you, the nicest man you have ever met. A gentleman who gave you flowers and showered you with love. But it didn’t matter that he loved you that much, because no matter he will always be in your heart. Maybe in some instances you fought, you apologized, just like any other couple.

But he was not like any other man.

You knew who he was, and the violent nature that he stands for. Although you never saw, you always hear his new target, his new schemes and… with that comes bursts of reassurance of your love, undying love, loyalty to him. The cycle repeats, and even the hundredth time, he will always hug you tight afraid you will go.

And with that you always hug him back.

Some say that such a man was so hard to love, but his lopsided grin, his cute gestures—they had no idea who he was on your view. Maybe it was just facade, or maybe this was the actual him they never saw. But it doesn’t matter. You were his first love, the one who showed him what true and unconditional love is.

And just like his family—he intends to keep your innocence over these matters, and he intends to love you forever.

“It’s okay to let me go… but please say the reason. I’ll give you all of me, all I want is for that to be enough.”

DILUC is a highly respected bachelor in Mondstadt. But to you, he is but a fragile dandelion drifting in the wind. The warmth, the silence and the breeze of the wind were most of the moments you spend with him. He sometimes wondered if this childlike domestic happiness is some fever dream, a sweet lullaby kissing him in the forehead.

Just like the sweet innocence of childhood, the nostalgia was coming back to him. You offered him something more, something deeper and something real than a nostalgic feeling, but never did the maids of Dawn Winery saw Master Diluc running once again at the lake with a smile on his face running to you. Being with you.

You.

With all the years alone, his house simply a tool to help with his daily necessities, you changed it all. You were something to believe in, that he was worth all this joy, that he was worth something. That even with the pain, the deaths, the heartaches he think he rightfully deserves, this one glimmer of happiness the Gods gave him, this beautiful soul that was cursed to love him and he was blessed to love as well.

Without hurt, without pain, someone went into his life and willing to stay.

“The sound of the fire never gives me warmth in winters, perhaps having one more person is why I no longer feel so cold.”

KAEYA never really had a moment in his life that he believed that someone was going to stay. And he too believed that when he first saw you. Even with new memories, even when the years went and go he truly thought that you too will go away. Such preciousness of a pearl was no match for him, rusting and broken. Fixed only to be cut and sold. Used and mended.

Everyone had their own idea of what the Cavalry Captain is really like. A womanizer. An alcoholic. Manipulative. . But Kaeya never minded the roles that society wanted him to play, rather embracing the accusations of his characters. But one thing that seemed to be true in all the gossips around the town is that he hold his secrets pretty well. Too well.

Even too you. You never really wanted to know, there’s this nagging feeling in your mind that he still not trusts you. After all, life can always go backwards but even so your lips will be sealed. That’s a promise you are willing to keep forever.

His eye. His life. He trusts you with his life, he gives you everything you wanted but maybe it wasn’t worth it to answer all of your questions maybe? Maybe he too believed that you too will drift like the wind, just like his past, or maybe it’s him, like a ship sinking in the seas that even with all these things he wants to say, he didn’t want to break that trust and love you had. That love he wants to hold, the person he wants to cherish for a lifetime.

He’ll do anything for you, and his secrets will only harm you even if you know deep down inside that he was harming you too.

“The day you learn the truth, is maybe the day we’ll bid adieu.”

KAVEH was kind, perhaps too much. He treats you so good, even when he doesn’t have enough. That was simply his character, always asking if you’re okay, if you want this or do that. For you, he was simply an angel who fell on earth. A beautiful person who longed to play and create, art and festive.

And perhaps that too was a facade. You find him once crying over a box of toys, and there you cried with him too. It was not important as to why he cried but making him happy, for his joy was one that made the vines grow in the old trees and the one that even rain could never cover. He told you what happened, his past, his “sins” and there you never realized what he was going through.

But that doesn’t mean you can be here for him from now. Kaveh, who blamed everything on himself, could never really grasp how understanding you are. Listening to his words, crying his tears—like that of a little boy finding his peace. That he never found, now as a tall child searching for answers. But still apologizing when he answers. How can he deserve to be loved without hurt. To confess his crimes and be rewarded with a bouquet of flowers.

He longed to be loved, but now he believes that for someone to hold him tight this lonely night, his chest no longer felt so heavy. His heart no longer felt so tight. As now, it is whole for you.

“Sleep tight, and may you rest in a blooming new day, sweetheart.”

[dreamtydraw]

do u have any advice for someone starting to draw?

Hmmmm I have a bunch of advices the thing is they worked one me and might not work on everyone but let me share things that helped me in my art journey.

It’s a long post with advices and resources so i hope it can be helpful.

On advices :

Accept the fact that not every art you'll make will be good. Unless you're a full on professional with years of experiences you'll always need to learn things and so, often you'll find flaws in your art. That where it's important to remember to have fun , art shouldn't stress you into making flawless products.

Doodle often. Again you don't have to daily make detailed artworks but doodling will help you progress and helps with creative process.

Find an art format you like. Just like you can't ask a guitarist to play piano, every art mediums are different with their rules. I would advise you to experiment until you find something you're the most comfortable with ( ex i like markers, color pencils and digital art but I despise oil painting )

The quality of your material does matter. It doesn't matter on how well you draw but it does matter in helping you work better so sometimes it's worth saving up for better materials ( do research on what seems the best for you ). This apply for digital tools too ! I only like one app and it's ibis paint...

Copy. Now this doesn't mean blindly trace or steal but find artists or artworks you like and try to find WHAT you like in it and then try to copy it on your own. This goes for anything you want to reference visually, find what you like in it and copy that, if you just copy the reference you don't do much more than being a printer.

Flip your canvas or use a light tablet to turn your sketch. This help you notices anatomy errors more visibly so you can correct them before starting the clean up.

Don't sleep on cartoon. A lot of people say "learn realism before finding your style" and I'd say that not for everyone. If you want to get professionally into art or works on your anatomy then yes you should learn realism because it's the fundamental of anatomy but that not an obligation. One thing you can learn from tho regardless of what you try to do is cartoons. Cartoons are exaggerations of posing, expressions and designs and learning some cartoons rules might help you understand a bit better some notions ( mainly shapes languages and expressions )

Find something that motivates you to draw. Draw for fandoms, draw your oc, draw for yourself but having something that makes you want to draw is important. It's very important that you don't base your motivation on other people's opinion of your art.

Get inspired by other medias. Search about symbolism in other art form, get inspired by movies, books, videos games, people, objects, design etc… Humans are good at making creative stuff, it feed the spirit.

Now on ressources ( That i use or have used )

My personal pinterest board for visual reference

Scan of morpho, a good morphology book

Scan of morpho, about fat and muscles

Post with resources about fat

Tips about character design

Links to Kasey golden Chanels for cartoon inspiration and material review

Post about shapes designs

Hope this can be of help !!

[blancheludis]

Whumptober 2024 Day 7: Magic With A Cost

Fandom: Batman Characters: Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Jason Todd Tags: Grief, Magic, Tim is a Witch, Self-Sacrifice

Summary:

Tim offers to bring Jason back from the dead. He knows magic always comes with a price and he is willing to pay it. A life for a life. It is not like anybody will miss him anyway.

All magic comes with a cost. Tim likes to think for him to have magic at all, he had to give up his parents' love.

When he was five and they just returned from a dig, he snuck into his father's study, just to get a glimpse at all the wonders from forgotten times they brought home with them. A small earthen vase called out to him and the stopper moved barely without any effort under his small hands. Wind rose and the echo of laughter rang in his ears although there was no one else around. Something came out of the vessel - cold and insistent and powerful - and dove right into Tim. The rest, as they say, is history.

Well, first, he spent weeks too sick to tell reality from the countless, visceral nightmares suddenly filling his head, feverish and fighting the force suddenly sharing his body with him.

His parents thought it was a curse. Tim never corrected them.

---

The death of a child is never a good thing, but something about Jason Todd dying pushes Tim's entire world off balance. He cannot sleep, he cannot eat, he cannot work. The magic inside him, always present, humming right beneath his skin and in his blood, grows demanding, pushing him towards something inevitable. Tim is unsettled by it, feeling for once more like a tool than a partner. And then, one night in the library, he finds out why.

---

The sky is a dark grey, as welcoming as the forbidding monument that is Wayne Manor as Tim walks up to the front door. This place holds a different kind of loneliness than his own home, a different kind of grief. His parents, Tim is sure, would not mind overly much, if he died. They definitely would not fall down a dark spiral of desperation bad enough to draw in all of the surrounding magic and subsequently call a witch with a handy solution directly to their doorstep.

Mere moments after knocking on the door, it opens to reveal Mr. Pennyworth, the Wayne family's butler. Tim has done his research. According to the servants' gossip in town, Mr. Pennyworth is the only person in the whole wide world who can make Mr. Wayne do something he does not want. In order to even get into the house, this is where Tim has to be most convincing.

"Good evening," he greets brightly and does not show any sign of irritation at the way the butler is subtly but disapprovingly looking him over. 

Tim knows he is young and looks younger. He is small for thirteen years, too thin. Pale skin and dark bags under his eyes, thanks to the unsettled magic letting him get little rest, just make things worse. Otherwise, however, he does look like a normal boy from a respectable family and Mr. Pennyworth's scepticism is not appreciated. 

"Master Wayne is not seeing visitors at this time," Mr. Pennyworth says, crisp and final, already moving to turn away.

Tim takes a small step forward. "He will want to see me."

Heat crackles under his skin, urging him forward. His magic has not been this insistent on anything in years. It has never led him astray, before, so he does not let the manor or its butler intimidate him.

"Young sir," Mr. Pennyworth says, too formal to be condescending. "Do your parents know you're here?"

Laughter breaks over Tim's lips, high and childish, along with something else, something darker that makes the hairs on the butler's arm stand up. It is not a trick, really, Tim does not have to pay anything for that effect. Magic loves him. He still has not made up his mind if he loves it.

Mr. Pennyworth stands up straighter, filling out his shoulders with a presence not befitting a mere butler. Gone are the last traces of the genial old man, replaced by something harder, something determined.

"Are you possessed?" No politeness is left in his tone. It rather sounds like he is one wrong move away from performing an exorcism himself, right here on the doorstep to his Master's home. Tim decides he likes him.

"Do possessed people usually give you an honest answer?" he asks, smiling just a tad too widely.

They stare at each other for a long moment, butler and child, duty and magic. Tim is not worried. Magic wants him here and it usually gets what it wants. It is also usually not too unkind about it. 

"I will not allow any harm to come to Master Wayne," Mr. Pennyworth says slowly, not quite making it a threat.

Tim still nods briefly to show he has heard it. "It's a good thing, then, I'm not here for that. I'm here to give him something back that he lost."

Once again, there is laughter, but this time it is not Tim's. He does not move his mouth at all. These halls have seen many generations of Waynes and they just beg to be heard. Out of the corner of his eye, Tim thinks he sees a boy running, the shadow of a shadow, skidding through the foyer with a wide grin. Alfie, look. An exhale. A blink and they are alone again.

The butler has gone pale. He does not look at Tim anymore with even the distant kindness reserved for children. All he sees is a monster. "How dare you come here and wield our grief against us?"

Tim cannot help the small, bitter smile, but he inclines his head in an attempt to hide it. "What if I can bring him back?"

---

Mister Wayne's office, just like most of the halls of Wayne Manor, is dark and forbidding. Lack of light, dark wood and, most of all, their master sitting in the midst of it with grief clinging to every sharp angle, every small movement speaking of destruction, decay.

His eyes are piercing as he stares Tim down, who stands in front of the desk and repeats his proposal: returning the lost child back to life. A ritual he is sure he can do, even though the few books he found where not as instructional as he might have wanted. In fact, they all preached caution. But this is not Tim's idea.

Ever since stepping into the Manor proper, the magic inside him has expanded, pressing against the confines of Tim's mortal body, reaching a bit farther out with every breath. So, no, Tim does not know the how, yet, and he is still not clear on the why, but he is right where he is supposed to be.

"Bringing someone back from the dead is not straightforward," he explains, not losing any of his confidence. "Magic does not happen with a simple snap of fingers."

That, of course, depends. If he coated his fingers in something potent, if he were pointing at a source - but they are not talking about parlour tricks, here. They do not want to break but to mend. Building something always takes more than pulling it all down.

"How?" Mr. Wayne demands, flat and dark. Apart from a brief flash of rage, he has not shown any emotion since Mr. Pennyworth herded Tim into the office.

Beyond ritual circles and power sources and intent, the most important thing about every piece of magic is the cost. The one thing all the texts agreed on is that the cost of curing death is enormous, painful. There are options, of course, but Tim has already decided. He has never liked to depend on third-party sources. No, his magic wants him here for a reason and Tim thinks that is the simple part.

"Do you really want me to bore you with technical details?" Tim asks, tired without growing impertinent. The less he has to explain the better for everybody involved. "Every ritual is different and -"

Mr. Wayne cuts him off with a glare. "I want to know why you are here and what you intend to gain from it."

The honest answer is actually very simple. This house is calling for him, ghosts reach out for him whenever he turns his back, something is haunting his every step. As things are, he does not have anything to gain from this but rest, which is not the worst bargain he could get in a situation like this.

"Do you believe in ghosts, Mr. Wayne? he asks, softly. "In fate?"

Unsurprisingly, Mr. Wayne scoffs. "I don't deal with such nonsense."

He would not call it nonsense if he could see Jason's memory flitting through the house, as real and fleeting as any of them who are still alive.

"I am here because of both," Tim says, having long since learned to ignore scepticism. Eventually, they all learn. "Your son is calling for help. I'm not sure whether he is asking for me specifically or if I'm just the first who heard him, but I know that I can bring him back."

Tim does not know any such thing, but he has come to trust in magic, to follow its lead. It is quite impossible not to when it never lets him forget its existence.

"Don't -" Mr. Wayne snaps, then swallows audibly, schools his expression into something neutral. "You can really bring him back?"

"Yes." This is not the time to show doubt. Things will fall into place at the right time, he has to trust in that.

Mr. Wayne breathes, never once looking away from Tim. "When?"

The house sighs in sudden relief, releasing some of the tension in the air. That is how Tim knows he has won the argument.

He cocks his head to the side. "I could bring him back right now, but I think you would want him to come back right." The last thing he needs is impatience or someone looking over his shoulder the entire time.

"Is there a wrong way?" Mr. Wayne asks, his shoulders tensing further.

Tim allows himself a small smile. "You want him to bring all of his soul back with him. All of his memories. All that made him who he was." He shrugs, making himself look more confident than he feels. "Simply animating a corpse would be easy. Giving back life is not." Easy is, perhaps, too strong a word but nobody needs to know that.

"How long?"

These things cannot be rushed, otherwise they will end up with even more grief. And possibly more bodies than intended. Dead ones. "I need to understand who Jason is. I think he will tell me what he needs."

Immediately, Tim knows that this answer was too bold, too outlandish for Mr. Wayne, who is very much a nonbeliever in all things he cannot personally touch. Leaning forward, hands not quite curled into fists, he says, "If you're lying to us, if you're using our grief -"

"I won't ask anything of you, Mr. Wayne, other than that you will let me live here until the job is done." Before Mr. Wayne's expression can darken further, he adds, "I have my own home, my own money. I don't need anything from you other than the freedom to do what I have come here for."

The manor creaks as they look at each other in silence. The sound of the running steps of a child waft in from somewhere.

"Yes," Mr. Wayne finally allows through clenched teeth. "But you will share all your research with me and if I get even a hint of you doing something untoward, you will leave."

"Is that -"

Mr. Wayne stands, effectively cutting Tim off. "I already said yes. Now, get out."

---

Tim moves in without fanfare. He barely brings anything in terms of clothes or personal items. He does, however, ask for a place in the gardens to put up a greenhouse.

Magic always comes with a cost. It could be body heat or a drop of blood, life force in terms of years, willing or unwilling sacrifices. Life is in all things, though, and Tim has learned a careful balance of taking without killing, growing without culling. Plants, after all, do grow stronger if cut regularly, in the right way.

The gardens of Drake Manor are rows and rows of lush green and colours of all kind, ripe fruits and fragrant smells. When he walks his home, magic is all around him.

Of course, he does not have time to plant an entire garden in Wayne Manor, but he has this: a greenhouse full of his most potent plants and windowsills filled to bursting. Green is life much more than crimson is. Here, he can breathe.

---

The theory is easy. Build a summoning circle in which he has to pour enough understanding of Jason's essence to make it stick. A binding circle to make sure he will have enough time for the exchange. The usual physical offerings, both potent in magic and specific to Jason. And then, payment.

All magic has a cost, and great deeds of magic demand great sacrifice. This will not be done with a cup full of blood, no matter the origin. Tim could bleed an entire dragon dry and the fates would not be moved. No, the payment always has to match the demand.

To create life, he has to offer something equivalent. A life for a life.

There are a number of rituals and spells that are powered by human sacrifice. Tim has never dabbled in those, has never even read up on them beyond the basics.

His magic has led him here, has pulled him in with more insistence than ever before. He knows what that means.

A life for a life.

---

Tim keeps to himself and Mister Wayne is more than happy to ignore him. The house, however, is not. Long gone laughter rings out around every corner. Phantom flames flicker in empty fireplaces. Books fall from shelves in the library only to reveal dozens of handwritten notes in the margins. For once, Tim is not the only ghost that haunts a manor.

"I need to know more about Jason's life." Tim ambushes Alfred in the kitchen. "What did he do all day?"

He needs to know, but he does not like seeing Alfred age right before him, hollowed out by grief and memories he has not yet laid to rest.

"Sit down," he offers Tim, smiling despite himself. "Do you want a cup of tea?"

---

"I want to train with you," Tim says one morning after breakfast.

Mr. Wayne tends to avoid him and offering nothing but terse nods whenever he cannot. He does not ask about Tim's progress, does not offer any help that is not pulled out of him with great effort. It is clear that he has let Tim into his home out of desperation, but that he does not believe success is possible. Worse, every time he sees Tim is a reminder of his loss.

"No," Mr. Wayne snaps, alit with sudden anger. He has half-risen out of his seat, towering over Tim.

"It's what Jason did, right?" Tim asks, not showing any outward reaction to Mr. Wayne's intimidation tactics.

His fingertips burn, ready to throw Mr. Wayne across the room if he comes any closer or begins to act on his unspoken threat. Tim is small and young, but he is anything but defenceless.

"You're not here to replace him." That is more a growl than a human voice, somehow befitting the sharp-cut jaw.

Tim leans back in his seat, taking a sip of his coffee. "No. I'm here to understand him so I can bring him back."

Without another word, Mr. Wayne storms out. He does not, however, deny Tim when he appears, a few hours later, in the gym, eager to learn.

---

Tim is not sure what to make of the prospect of dying. He is young. He has seen nothing of the world. His parents do not love him, but he always hoped that, someday, somewhere, he could find love for himself, family. He wonders, now, why whatever was in that vessel spared him, gave him the gift of magic. He wonders what is so special about Jason Todd that fate asks Tim to die for him.

He learns about Jason, learns that he can be jealous of a dead boy, learns that life can be really, unfathomably unfair. He does not find a satisfying answer to his question. With time, however, he thinks it will at least be a worthy exchange. Jason has so much to offer the world. He has people waiting for him. Tim has nobody but himself.

Magic buzzes restlessly inside Tim as he refuses to let it out. Without it, he is entirely human. Entirely breakable. Bruce does not seem to care. He never tires, he never makes mistakes.

Tim could still wipe the floor with him if only he would let go. He does not. Instead, he gets thrown down on the mats more often than he can count.

"Again," Bruce repeats a thousand times.

At night, Tim goes through an unholy amount of arnica and hamamelis and heat sucked right out of the flames in the fireplace so that he can move without too much pain the next morning. His magic purrs, glad he has not forgotten it completely.

---

"Was he often hurt?" Tim asks one night when he is sure that Bruce is nowhere nearby. He nurses his tea, appreciative of its warmth.

Alfred looks up alarmed. "Master Jason? Why do you ask? What happened?"

His immediate worry is just as soothing as the tea, careful attentiveness instead of dismissive ignorance. Tim is not used to so much positive human interaction, he has to take care not to let his guard down too much.

"It's just - he has training with Bruce and then they fight out in Gotham." He shrugs. His intention was never to accuse anyone of anything. It is just intense. "He was just a boy, right?"

With too perceptive eyes, Alfred looks at him. "Are you hurt, Master Tim?"

Tim flinches back, taken by surprise. "No," he lies. 

Although, is it really a lie if he asked for it? Bruce seemed tolerant of his antics in the training room and never once hesitated when Tim got back to his feet to face him again.

His muscles are permanently sore, not used to the exertion. If he would not heal himself, his bruises would have bruises because he never before had to dodge a predator coming after him with intent. His skin spans painfully over his bones, barely containing his magic. It is constantly simmering right underneath his fingertips. He could make sure not a single hit ever finds his target again. But that is not what he is here for. He wants to learn. Magic is not infallible.

Bruce is not hurting him for the sake of pain, but Tim has never had much need for physical fitness. This is like learning to walk, all over again, like getting on a bike for the first time and greeting the gravel of their driveway with his knees.

Of course, at the end of this journey, it will not matter whether his body is trained, whether he learned anything that could be useful for a life he will never have. At the end of this, Tim will be dead and Jason will be back in his rightful place.

Tim does need to learn about Jason, but a small, not insignificant part of him, does this for his own gain. Where is the harm in experiencing this life? Where is the harm in tasting something that was never for him?

"If something is wrong -"

Tim shakes his head quickly. He does not need Alfred to do something rash. "Everything's good, Alfred," he reassures easily. "I'm just not used to so much physical exertion, and I wondered. It was not an accusation. I know Jason was happy here."

Slowly, Alfred settles back into a more comfortable position. For a few minutes, they sit in silence, drinking tea.

"Do you see him?" Alfred then asks, as hopeful as he is cautious.

There is not a step Tim can take in this house without Jason's essence pressing in on him.

"He is not the kind of ghost I could talk to," he says and is glad for it. Otherwise, his task could be done much quicker, and he finds himself reluctant to let go just yet. "But his essence is here nonetheless. I hear most of his laughter in the kitchen."

Alfred's eyes turn glassy and Tim offers a smile, unsure whether he overstepped. Grief is a fickle thing, able to cause both comfort and pain.

"You're a good kid, Master Tim."

Tim does not know about that, but something preens in him at the attention nonetheless.

---

Bruce's temper is a minefield on a good day and he tends not to have a lot of those.

"What is taking so long?" he growls after having summoned Tim to his office. Once again, Tim is not asked to sit. It is eerily reminiscent of his first visit here, having to plead his case as if he is desperate to die for these people, as if his life is worth nothing at all on its own.

Tim looks at Bruce as he takes a moment to swallow his temper. It must have been a bad night, one where Bruce is haunting the house just as much as Jason is, just with less of a positive energy.

"I told you I need to-"

Bruce brings his hand down on the table, making Tim flinch. He has never before felt seriously threatened in this house, but he has seen what these hands can do. He knows what grief can do. 

"I think you just want to take something that's not yours," Bruce accuses with burning eyes. "You want to take his place."

Deep breaths, Tim reminds himself. "Bruce. I don't want to take anything from you." On the contrary, he wants to give something back, to the point of self-destruction, even. He knows better than to say that, though. Bruce would not mind much, probably, giving nothing but token protest. Alfred might be the real obstacle there, and Tim does not actually want to spend time and effort on convincing people to let him die. "I can't tell you why I was called. But I'm not yet ready."

"Do you ever plan on being ready?" Bruce asks, his lips pulling up into something that is more of a threat than a smile.

Planning has little to do with it. Tim is willing to do what has to be done. Life, magic, all of it was a gift. He has not yet paid for that, but something in him tells him that this might be it. This is the universe coming to collect. Why else push him into the home of a dead boy? Why else give him a task that will mean the cost of his life? He is already getting more out of the bargain than he could have hoped for, these glimpses of what it means to be a family.

"Do you want me to go?" Tim asks softly. The magic in him stirs, stings underneath his skin. He breathes to calm it. He will not abandon his task, but he wants to do this the right way.

Bruce is not quick enough to pull his face into impassiveness, to fully hide the fear. "Are you rescinding your offer?"

"No," he promises, gentler perhaps than Bruce deserves. "I mean, I have an entire house just down the road. I don't have to stay here. I don't have to eat here. You don't have to see me, if you don't want to. I can try to get ready otherwise."

It would be harder, of course, but Tim would also not be distracted by liking this life.

"No." Bruce's reply comes too fast, too hoarse. "No. Stay."

Immediately, the pressure that has been building inside Tim releases. His magic is mollified.

"Do you want to spar? Take your mind off things?" Tim then offers, deciding a change in topic is needed and Bruce always seems to do better when he can punch out his grief. It is not how he planned to spend his morning but he is not completely hopeless anymore and has even begun to enjoy the exertion of it.

Bruce, however, narrows his eyes at him. "Alfred tells me you've been limping yesterday."

Traitor, Tim thinks without heat. He grins, careless. "Nothing some good old magic can't fix."

He expects Bruce to nod and be done with the topic. Instead, he carefully looks Tim over as if he can spot any bruises through his clothes.

"I don't want to hurt you," he then says, gentle and honest. It does things to the part of Tim that is still a child waiting for his parents to come home and love him.

"You can't." That is a bold-faced lie, but Tim does not stumble over it. They are talking about different hurts anyway. Physical pain is fine. Getting to live a life never meant for him, to experience love if only from the outskirts of it - that hurts. At the same time, it might be the most precious thing of all. "And if I don't train, then I won't get better."

---

After that first, not very promising meeting on the Manor's doorsteps, Alfred's behaviour in regards to Tim has improved immensely. He was never rude, no, but he has a way of wielding his politeness in a way that cuts. Slowly but surely, the sharpness drained out of his words and expressions, and his service grew from perfunctory to warm. Alfred is the soul of this house and Tim feels honoured to have been welcomed in.

"What is your favourite dessert, Master Tim?" Alfred asks one morning, attentive in a way that would befit more serious questions.

Tim smiles at him over the rim of his coffee mug. "Wrong question, dear Alfred. What is Jason's favourite dessert?" He cannot let the lines blur too much.

But Alfred is not going to let himself be deterred. "I do think you can take an evening off. This is about you."

Nothing is ever about Tim. Even the magic. It pulls and pushes, insists and demands. He is but a vessel. He broke that sealed vase and whatever was inside that now lives in him is always hungry.

Still, there is something endearingly earnest about the way Alfred looks at him. It is hard to disappoint him.

"I don't know," Tim admits.

A pause. A frown. "Well," Alfred claps his hands with too much cheer. "It is time we found out, then."

---

Things are coming to an end; Tim feels it in his bones. He is not a stranger anymore in this house. At times, his own laughter rings along with Jason's, creating a harmony that leaves him breathless.

He knows the manor's inhabitants as well as its halls. Bruce's silences, less broody now but filled with warmth. Alfred's quiet strength and endless capacity for love. He knows where to put his feet to remain standing when Bruce charges at him, knows the thrill of fighting, an intricate choreography. He knows the pleasant ebb and flow of conversations, of stories shared to entertain. He knows the feel of family, of love. Underneath it all, he knows all the places Jason fit.

"I'm ready," he says when they are half-way through breakfast.

Bruce stills. Which is not the reaction Tim expected. "You are?" Hesitation, questions in every angle.

Tim nods, smiling. He has been ready for a week now, but an unwelcome, selfish part of him did not want to admit it, did not want to give this up, and the magic let him. Now it is time to face reality, however.

Bruce looks at him, still strangely hesitant. "What do you need?"

More time, Tim thinks, but that is not part of the deal. He will not hurt these people further, not after they have taken him in and given him the greatest gift of his life.

"Today is the new moon. I will do it then. Later, I'll unearth the coffin. If you want to come, do it soon." The body has to stay inside, so it will not be disturbed before it is time, but Tim does not want to leave Jason in his grave when he cannot help him out, afterwards. "You need to stay inside when I do the ritual. I cannot be distracted." More importantly, the magic cannot be distracted. There can only be two targets for the ritual. Better not add any temptations.

"You -" Bruce's eyes are piercing, but Tim meets them calmly. "It will work?"

The magic purrs inside Tim, which he takes as an affirmative. Bruce still does not believe in it, though.

"I have not done this before, but I've done my research," Tim says, as confidently as he can. "Something called me here. I'm sure." Failure is not an option, anyway. He will not get a second try. 

"Thank you, Tim." Bruce sounds breathless, at once anticipatory and afraid.

"Thank me tomorrow," Tim says, even while the words taste like ash in his mouth.

It is funny, really. The cost has been clear from the very beginning. He will not sacrifice any other human being, so the only viable alternative is himself. He has known that all along. So, why does he feel reluctant now? Why are his limbs heavy and his heart rate too fast? He is a willing sacrifice, a life freely given. Why make it hard on himself now?

He knows why, of course. For the first time in his short life, he actually has something to give up. Before, it was him in his parents' empty house, learning, doing magic feats no one would congratulate him for. Now, he has gotten a taste of what it feels like to be wanted, even if they want Jason, not him. The lines have blurred enough for him to feel the connection, the love.

But it is all right. He can do this. Today, he will say his goodbyes, he will thank magic and fate. He will be ready.

---

Tim makes a last round through the house, wanders in Jason's footsteps and, now, also in his own. He sits on his bed, runs a hand across his desk. In the greenhouse, he says goodbye to each of his plants. Alfred will take care of them, surely, so something of his will remain. In the kitchen, he steals a cookie and laughs when Alfred offers to make his favourites for dinner. He cleans himself thoroughly, body and soul, the last ritual he will do for himself. It is a good day, a good life. Tim is glad he got to taste it.

---

Magic makes it easy to unearth the coffin. It looks a bit damaged, but Tim does not know anything about the natural progression of coffin decomposition to think anything about it. He does not look in. Neither do Alfred or Bruce when they come by, briefly, before letting him do his work.

Calm settles over Tim as he prepares. He has brought his best supplies for this. No need to save them for later when there will never be a later. This is his masterpiece. He draws the runic circles with utmost care, going over each three times to make sure everything is perfect. He begins burning the incense as he places the physical anchors.

He watches the sun set, speaking a prayer of thanks.

---

Night falls and he is ready. 

This is it. This is the culmination of months of work.

Tim's blood seeps into the runes, his bones creak in anticipation. His soul, at once ready and balking, hangs by nothing but a thread. With a deep inhale, feeling his body for the last time, Tim snaps it.