#GET IT GET IT GET IT GET THAT DEGREE GET IT GET IT GET IT

[blueberrybirdsworld]

The therapist effect

Summary: She’s either Charles Leclerc’s new girlfriend or Ferrari’s personal therapist, maybe both.

Either way, she’s clearly helping him cope with his Ferrari-induced depression this season.

The events take place in the 2024 season.

Genre: fluff, SMAU, request

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x Y/N

Face claim: Alexandra Saint-Mleux

Author note :Thank you so much for the anon who send this request, I hope you will like it :)

Main Masterlist

@_yourusername

Last semester 📚 brain is melting, but I keep going

@_user1:

WAIT SLIDE THREE??? hello???

@_user2:

is that… a ferrari cap??? with 16?? oh we’re spiraling

@_user3:

girl are you a ferrari fan or a charles fan or… be honest 🤨

@_user4:

SHE’S WEARING THE CHARLES CAP I’M GONNA FREAK OUT

@_user6:

not her being a psych student AND a ferrari supporter. babe you enjoy suffering don’t you

@_user7:

this is giving “charles leclerc’s gf” energy energy just saying...

@_user8:

charles seeing this post like: 😳

@_user9: confirm the connection. I repeat. confirm the connection.

@_charles_leclerc

Summer break ⛱️☀️

@_carlossainz55:

Finally posted her huh 😌

@_pierregasly:

Happy for you both, you look lovely

@_user1: NO WAY??? who is she???

@_user2:

I’m crying she’s too pretty it’s over for us

@_user3:

FBI mode activated let’s find this queen immediately

@_user4:

GUYS I FOUND HER I THINK 😭😭 she’s tagged in an old pic with a uni group page… she's doing her psychology degree in Monaco

@_user5:

CHARLES LECLERC IS DATING A PSYCHOLOGY STUDENT????

@_user6:

Ferrari broke him so bad he said “I need full-time care” 😭😭😭

@_user7:

not just a psych student but in her final year… bro is COMMITTED to healing

@_yourusername

Summer mode: activated 🍓

@_user1:

ok but WHERE is charles 👀👀

@_user2:

she's ignoring the subject on purpose I feel it in my soul

@_user4:

girl blink twice if you’re the Ferrari therapist

@_user5:

So we’re just pretending Charles didn’t post a whole summer dump with her last week? ok 💅🏻

@_user6:

be honest… does he cry to you after quali?

@_user7:

do you make him unpack his emotions post-race or do you just hand him a juice box and let him sulk?

@_user8:

I'm dying bc she hasn't said a single word about him… masterclass in mystery gf behavior

@_user9:

give us the origin story. how did a stressed-out Ferrari driver meet a psychology major??? I NEED TO KNOW

@_user10:

she’s too pretty. too calm. this is the kind of woman Charles needed after the Monaco pit stop trauma

@_paddockgossip

👀 Spotted at the paddock: mystery girl in full Ferrari gear and carrying what looks like a psychology textbook

Rumors are flying that this could be the girl from Charles Leclerc’s last post. Fans have already linked her to a university in Monaco, where she’s reportedly finishing a degree in psychology but is she here as Charles’ rumored girlfriend… or did Ferrari finally bring in a licensed professional after everything they’ve been through this season? 💀

Either way, we approve. She’s gorgeous. She’s calm. She’s either dating him or diagnosing him. Or both.

@_user1:

“she’s either dating him or diagnosing him” I’m CRYINGGG 😭

@_user2:

girl has a psychology textbook and a Ferrari pass??? Charles didn’t get a new strategist he got a support system 😩

@_user3:

if that’s his gf she’s GLOWING.

@_user4:

no bc imagine being a final year psych student and ending up treating the most emotionally unstable driver on the planet

@_user5:

She’s wearing full Ferrari gear, of course she works there 💀

@_user6:

ORRR she’s just dating the driver and gets teamwear access??? let’s be serious 😭

@_user7:

Okay but imagine it’s both. Charles Leclerc dating his therapist would actually explain everything

@_user6:

It’s not very professional if she is working with the team… just saying 😬

@_user7:

Guys she’s literally just his gf relax 😭

@_user8:

No cause if she IS his gf she’s the most qualified to help Charles through Ferrari trauma… 😭

@_paddockgossip

🚨 She’s BACK and now she’s carrying Leo 🐶

Our favorite maybe-girlfriend / maybe-therapist of Charles Leclerc just walked into the Monaco paddock with Leo in her arms.

@_user1:

bro she’s holding LEO. this is practically a marriage announcement.

@_user2: therapist. dogsitter. Ferrari support staff. girlfriend all at once.

@_user4:

why do I feel like she fed Leo, gave Charles emotional validation, AND prepped for her dissertation this morning

@_user5:

ok so she’s now: psychologist, emotional support human, Leo’s full-time nanny, and probably Ferrari’s backup strategist

@_user6:

@_charles_leclerc JUST SAY IT’S YOUR GIRLFRIEND CHARLES GOD 😭

@_user7:

Leo only lets like 3 people hold him and she’s one of them… yeah she’s in

@_user8:

She looks too calm for someone dating a Ferrari driver but maybe that’s the degree talking 💀

@_user9:

she’s carrying the dog and the emotional weight of this entire team

@_charles_leclerc

Words can’t describe this one. Merci Monaco ❤️🏁

@_f1:

Home hero 🏆🔥

@_scuderiaferrari:

On top where you belong 🤍

@_pierregasly:

Proud of you brother

@_user1:

idk but Charles feels different this season… calm… balanced… emotionally stable???

@_user2:

he’s in his healed era. therapist girlfriend supremacy.

@_user3:

he wins his home race after years of trauma and the Monaco curse? yeah. someone’s regulating his nervous system 👀

@_user4:

he’s winning races and healing childhood wounds this year… she’s doing a good work

@_user5:

therapy >>>> new chassis

@_user6:

I just KNOW he went home and cried into her arms and then thanked her for helping him believe in himself again

@_user7:

Charles Leclerc this season: less rage radio, more reflective inner peace. Coincidence? I think not.

@_user8:

The power of dating someone who literally studies the human brain 😭

@_paddockgossip

This emotional moment during the Monaco GP podium sent the internet into meltdown: the woman often spotted around Ferrari, who many believe to be Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend, was visibly crying as he stood on the top step in Monaco for the first time. 👀

@_user1:

crying on his home win podium ???? IT’S CANON NOW

@_user2:

bro she’s not the team therapist she’s the family now 😭

@_user3:

no bc you know she saw everything he went through with this race. that tear held YEARS of pain

@_user4:

she’s crying like she helped him through every breakdown and journaled it for her thesis

@_user5:

I don’t even want to hear “maybe she is just working for him” ever again after this

@_charles_leclerc

She is my love, my best support, and Leo’s favorite.

Thank you for being there through everything. I owe you my victory.

Je t’aime. ❤️

@_f1:

Beautiful moment. Beautiful man. Beautiful woman. Beautiful dog.

@_scuderiaferrari:

Leo deserves a bonus.

@_carlossainz55:

tell her to come to every race. Don’t risk anything now.

@_user1:

“this win is for you” and now I’m emotionally unstable thanks Charles

@_user2:

SHE IS THE SUPPORT SYSTEM. THE CALM. THE EMOTIONAL STABILITY. THE THERAPY ARC.

@_user3:

do you think she helps him process Ferrari’s strategy decisions in a healthy way 😭

@_user4:

I hope Ferrari put her on the payroll cause she is clearly doing more for this man than anyone in red ever has

@_user5:

so she’s the girlfriend, the therapist, Leo’s babysitter and the emotional engine of the whole team??

@_user6:

does she walk him through breathing exercises when he gets radioed “box now, too late”?

@_user7:

this is proof that dating someone in psych actually fixes you

@_user8:

she healed his Monaco curse. she healed his soul. hire her permanently Ferrari

@_user9:

Ferrari depression has met its match and it’s a pretty girl with a degree and Leo’s trust

@_user10:

I just KNOW she listens to him vent about quali like “and how did that make you feel?”

Permanent taglist : @bunnisplayground, @vampgege, @chocolatemooncoffee, @sashisuslover, @gold66loveblog, @carlando4, @il0vereadingstuff, @lilith-123321, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @h-rtsnana, @anonomano, @guacala, @charlotteking27, @ninass-world, @scarletwidow3000, @taetae-armyyyyy, @mynameisangeloflife, @tsuniio, @sophxxkiss, @teti-menchon0604, @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1, @adynorris, @curlylando, @rebelliousneferut, @justcharlotte, @emneedshelp, @lando-505 @yukimaniac, @sashisuslover, @f1norris04, @dustie-faerie, @madicecream123

[novy2sirius]

THE RISING DEGREES

based on numerology

TRIGGER WARNING ৡ : weight, addiction, anger issues, alcohol, crime, abuse, murder, and violence

POST NOTE ৡ : the entire chart matters. this is not based on nikola stojanovic’s degree theory it’s based on my numerstrology degree theory. this is just information u should take w a grain of salt and apply to ur own chart

READINGS OPEN FOR THE SUMMER ৡ

ASCENDANT AT 0°/9°/18°/27° · u come off as a wise individual to others and r very spiritually intelligent. u have a very ethereal beauty and r admired by many ppl. a lot of ppl may copy ur personality, mannerisms, or style bc they idealize u a lot. u could be very well known for ur artistic talents such as singing, acting, painting, etc. u r most likely the black sheep in ur family. u can be the first stand out in ur family tho and do something different. ur prone to having addiction issues so be careful of that. ur probably on the more introverted side and perceived as very shy, but once ppl get to know u they feel very charmed by u. one of ur main purposes in life is to learn how to manifest and also control ur ego

ASCENDANT AT 1°/10°/19°/28° · u have a more masculine appearance or possibly sharper features rather than rounder ones. u could have an intense stare as well. ppl perceive u as rly confident and sure of urself. many ppl feel inspired by u and want to follow ur lead. ur a natural born leader. u can attract lots of enemies if u don’t control ur anger and impulsive nature. ur very strong willed and hard working. put ur emotional energy toward that and find an outlet for when ur feeling down or like u can’t control ur emotions well. u can become very wealthy as long as u work hard and stay motivated. u can become well known for athletics or being a leader. ur meant to be more independent in this lifetime

ASCENDANT AT 2° · u have a very feminine appearance and persona. ur body is probably on the more curvy side. u have soft and feminine facial features. u r a peacemaker and don’t enjoy being in a bunch of drama but could often be gossiped abt by others. while ur very soft natured, when lower vibrational u may be rly emotionally manipulative toward others. u likely feel very insecure abt ur appearance. u tend to be more introverted but once ppl get to know u they find u very friendly and sweet. ur good at understanding other ppl emotionally. u can be sensitive at times or passive aggressive when u don’t get ur way. u could have a talent for writing, baking, or acting. ur meant to be more of a diplomat in this lifetime

ASCENDANT AT 3°/12°/21° · u have a very youthful appearance and persona. possibly a baby face or fuller cheeks as well. ur naturally very witty and make lots of ppl laugh. u attract lots of luck when u need it most (often at ur lowest points). ur a social butterfly (even if other placements indicate ur introverted u r still great socializing when u have to). u may not like having responsibility and struggle to stay loyal or not get into trouble when lower vibrational. ur very creative and can be great at things involving using ur voice or sharing ur ideas w the world such as writing, making videos online, singing, etc. many famous social media influencers, authors, or singers have these degrees in their ascendant or natal chart somewhere. ppl find u relatable and forgive u rly easily bc ur rly likable, but when ur low vibrational u may argue too much. ur meant to use ur voice and ideas for positive things in this lifetime

ASCENDANT AT 4°/13° · ur a very hardworking person who puts their all into everything they do. u could have a more muscular or stronger build. when lower vibrational u can be overly stubborn at times and hold grudges over small things. when higher vibrational ur a very smart and logical person who seeks stability in life. ur very opinionated and aren’t afraid to be honest w others abt how u feel in any situation. this could cause u to be perceived as judgmental at times, but if ur higher vibrational u rly do just want the best for ppl and don’t have ill intentions behind it. u aren’t afraid to stand up when something is wrong whether it be for the ppl u love or urself. u can do great in careers related to crime, law, business, or politics. u sometimes take life too seriously and don’t let urself have enough fun, but ur not meant to break too many rules in this lifetime. ur meant to be a good person and abide by the rules

ASCENDANT AT 5°/14°/23° · u r considered very attractive to many ppl and have a very magnetic presence. u probably have the urge to change ur appearance often whether it be ur hair, style, etc. when lower vibrational u can struggle w drinking problems, being chaotic and irresponsible, or struggle to be loyal bc of how lustful u r. when higher vibrational u think carefully before acting and aren’t as chaotic. u love ur freedom and don’t like being restricted in any way by anyone. u want to have fun. ur good at socializing and r often the life of the party. u naturally attract luck when u need it most (often at ur lowest points in life). u r meant to travel a lot in this lifetime and use ur charm or entertaining persona to gain success

ASCENDANT AT 6°/15°/24° · u have a natural beauty and r likely considered very pretty to ppl. ur very caring and have strong emotional intelligence. ur probably more shy and enjoy being home most of the time. coming out of ur comfort zone could be something that’s challenging for u (more so than others). when lower vibrational u can be stubborn, overly obsessed w seeking attention from others, and naive. when higher vibrational ur perceived as a very kind soul who’s friendly and loving. often intelligence is not ur strong suit. w these degrees ur more than likely very loyal and family oriented. ur meant to do things for others, care for others, and be kind in this lifetime

ASCENDANT AT 7°/16°/25° · u have a unique beauty and persona that stands out from others. ur very intelligent and r often the smartest person in the room. u see things that others don’t (especially spiritually). u have strong intuition and often know something is gonna happen way before it does, but usually ppl won’t listen to u even if u warn them. when lower vibrational u can be unfaithful, psychopathic, emotionless, or narcissistic. when higher vibrational u r emotionally intelligent, good at giving advice, and choose to stay out of drama. ur likely a loner and can easily get overstimulated bc others energy affects u easily. even if ur good at socializing u may still have a lower social battery than most ppl. u may not be the best at relationships bc u naturally thrive more when ur independent. u also don’t like being tied down or clingy ppl. be careful w these placements bc ur more prone to injuries (try not to do risky things all the time). ur meant to use ur knowledge for good in this lifetime and teach others

ASCENDANT AT 8°/17°/26° · ur appearance (especially ur weight) can constantly change depending on ur spiritual karma. ur energy is like walking karma tho in general. karma comes quickly to u if u do wrong but also quickly to others who do u wrong. u likely have a very seductive beauty. ur a very powerful person and can be a great leader when put in a position of power. when lower vibrational u can be abusive, greedy, controlling, vengeful, or cruel. when higher vibrational ur very kind, have good judgment, and can be rly wealthy. ppl w these placements make great politicians, ceo’s, and influencers. ur meant to live righteously and be a good person w good morals in this lifetime

ASCENDANT AT 11°/20°/29° · ur likely more slim or have a more fit body. u could have a cuter appearance or bigger eyes. ur a natural psychic and (even more so than others) should pay close attention to ur dreams. u have rly strong intuition and r likely an older soul. u have a natural charisma that makes ppl obsessed w being around u. many ppl w these degrees in their ascendant or natal chart in general can become rly famous. they naturally shine more than others w their alluring persona and how interesting they r to others. when lower vibrational u can struggle to control ur emotions and it can lead to bad things such as murder or being abusive (many abusers and murderers have these degrees prominent in their chart). when higher vibrational u can be rly artistically talented, emotionally intelligent, and kind. ur meant to learn how to control ur emotional energy and use it for positive things in this lifetime

ASCENDANT AT 22° · u likely have a more muscular or stronger build. ur probably an older soul. u r extremely wise and have a gift for building others up. ppls vibrations easily rise just by being around u. ur a very powerful person and have a talent for building in general. this could mean ur good at careers related to architecture, body building, building others confidence up, etc. when lower vibrational u can be violent, ruthless, close minded/bad at taking advice from others, and burn too many bridges. when higher vibrational u can be very emotionally intelligent, use ur wisdom for good, make others happy, and achieve lots of things in life. ur meant to be an overachiever and learn how to manifest in this lifetime

[inkyrainstorms]

this is her. the entire comic.

why are british people actually real

[satellitespinner]

GUILTY CONSCIENCE (prologue)

WELCOME TO THE SHOW. ♡

𓂃⋆.˚ businesswoman!ellie x exoticdancer!reader.ᐟ

𓂃⋆.˚ wordcount : (4.1k)

𓂃⋆.˚ content warnings : LORE PACKED. infidelity, alcohol, exotic dancing, money, money, money, money, ellie and reader dont interact yet, sorry. ellie is married to dina, age gap, (ellie is 29, reader is 22) fighting, angst, future smut, wngineering language?? but i used it badly lol im not an engineer. ellie is loaded, reader backstory: addictions, allusions grooming, allusions to sa (ellie and reader do not indulge in these behaviours) bestfriend callie, abby appears, stripping, obviously. ellie is unhappy, arguing(ellie + dina) , barely proofread, each chapter will contain more warnings! may look wonky on anything other than mobile. if you spot the “the rookie” reference i will give u a kiss. comments critiques, and reblogs are widely appreciated, talk to me and i’ll talk back! ⋆. ୨୧˚⋆

. ✦ ݁ ˖ MASTERLIST -> NEXT CHAPTER . ✦ ݁ ˖

Ellie Williams isn’t dangerous. She doesn't carry a weapon, and she sure as hell didn’t feel the need to take lives to get her point across.

She has something more powerful than any gun could fire, influence.

People listen to her because they want to, not because they have to. With a wealthy father and some of the top executives in the world at her finger tips, she could do anything.

Ellie had no problem getting what she wanted, although she thought of herself to be humble, she wasn't opposed to pulling a few strings in order to keep things in place.

That's what made her such a strong business woman, and she hated it.

there was always a plan for Ellie, whether she liked it or not. she was destined for greatness from a young age. no matter what she studied in school, or how much she showed her disinterest, she always knew deep down that her life was going to end here. working for her father in a sickly position that kept her in an office during the day and paid her more than she could’ve ever needed.

when Ellie was young, she found herself noticing how bored joel looked at his desk. he moved like a robot, checked out from nine am to five pm. the overwhelming stacks of paper, pens drying out from being overworked, and an insane amount of phone calls.

she vowed to herself that that would never be her. no matter what she had to do to stop it. she worked her ass off during elementary and middle school, doing extra curricular and acing honours classes. ellie had successfully proved herself multiple times, but to no avail.

when Ellie was a teenager she earned herself a full ride scholarship to study engineering at a university close by. a carefully curated portfolio and 90s in all classes created an application that nobody could deny. Ellie remembers the exact moment she read the email, from the dean himself, It would be foolish not to accept a student like you, Miss Williams. Welcome to Our Community. were the last words written on the acceptance letter, Ellie cried like a baby. she was so excited to show Joel her work, but he just brushed her off. saying, You wont be needing that, Kiddo. Great work though.

despite being previously disappointed, Ellie remained hopeful. she took the scholarship, and began conducting studies on thermodynamics and the mathematics of engineering fundamentals. she passed with flying colours, even scraping through to become valedictorian of her graduating class. but clearly that still wasn’t enough to prove her individualism to her family.

once Ellie realized that not even a PhD in engineering could release the feeling of not living up to her fathers standards, she gave up. she hung her degree on the office wall of the insurance firm that Joel had her working at and sighed.

Millers Enterprise.

by this time she had already been working her way up the ladder, she began working for Joel when she was a sophomore in university. and gained a hefty promotion after graduation. (the second time.) her family didn't ignore her success per se, but often pushed it off to the side - an afterthought.

her sole purpose was to take over Joels company, and marry rich in order to keep things stable. she was under pressure. under pressure to be something completely against her own values. Ellie used to swear up and down that she would die before working an office job. hands on work and experiments was what worked best for her. she was sure she would thrive elsewhere, but. that wasn't in the plan for her.

just when life was kicking her ass, Ellie met someone. well, she already knew of her, but alas.

Ellie met Dina shortly after finishing up her degree, she was freshly graduated and not looking for a relationship. but surely, out of pure dumb luck, Ellie found herself going out with her best friend's ex-girlfriend.

Dina was a beautiful woman, sharp, elegant, and a year older than Ellie. their personalities contrasting heavier than Ellie had expected. Dina's mature demeanour clashed with Ellie's recklessness and goofy sense of humour. but, in a way, Ellie loved that about Dina. she enjoyed how Dina took control, guiding her through her problems with an almost maternal instinct. she also loved the fact that sometimes she could just.. be. she didn't have to act a certain way around Dina, or uphold this image of herself. she could just live.

and that worked for them, in the beginning.

Ellie and Dina dated for four years before Ellie proposed, four beautiful, intimate, and painstakingly intense years. Ellie would've been silly to imagine herself with someone else, Dina was her person. her best friend, the one person who knew her inside and out, and now, she was her wife.

and the sex. not only was Dina good at taking control in stressful situations, but she was a machine in bed. she guided Ellie to where she wanted her perfectly. they both met each others needs while also having as much fun as possible.

Now, they weren’t overly sexual. but sex was.. more than common for them. They would go at it in the shower, on the couch, after dinner, during fights, oh, and at work.

when Ellie met Dina she was working at a successful law firm, on her path to become an immigration lawyer. but that all changed after they got married, Dina dedicated herself to Ellie entirely. dropping her plans of becoming a lawyer out of a rich family in order to work at Joels company alongside Ellie and Jesse.

the wedding was magnificent to say the least. a large celestial cathedral for the ceremony and an intricately decorated ballroom for the reception. It was ethereal, wooden tables to seat their family and friends, and a beautiful aisle leading up to where Ellie's future would be permanently decided. the ballroom floors shined as the crowd gathered, violinists and cellists surrounded the room, an echo of her decision.

Dina was the type of girl that as soon as she entered the room, all the attention was on her. it was especially apparent when she made her way down the aisle. her dress was nothing short of stunning, a fitted white top which blossomed into a beautiful long skirt, pearls and diamonds adorned her shoulders, neck, and ears. the dramatic lace veil dragging as she made her way through the room.

it was a statement. a promise. as Ellie slipped the large ring onto Dina's manicured finger, and whispered the vows that would tie them together forever, all she could feel was elated.

they were good for awhile, they faced the good, the bad, and the ugly without fail many times before. but as time passed, the fights grew frequent. the tiniest mistakes led to arguments. Dina didn't tell Ellie she was leaving, or ellie forgot to put gas in the car. anything that was outside of their perfectly curated plan, was fought over.

Dina was really good at villainizing ellie, she would often blame their issues on ellie’s actions, rather than recognizing them as a mutual problem.

One night, ellie had come home late after being stuck at the office. she had 4 reports that were long overdue and she needed to finish them that day. so she stayed in the office as late as possible, entirely forgetting to let Dina know in advance. she was so hyper focused on getting those papers done that she’s didn't even see the few missed calls from her wife, concerned on her whereabouts. and when she did see them, she ignored them. when ellie arrived home, the sun was already down and the streets were almost empty. the second her racket hit the rack, and she turned around to start relaxing, she was greeted with another screaming match.

“I fuckin’ told you! i was working.” Ellie’s voice was firm, not yelling, but not quite calm either. Dina was standing before her, silky pyjama set clinging closely to her tan skin. all ellie wanted to do was get this over with so she could get to bed. she knew all too well how this would go down. fight and then fuck it out. as usual.

Dina throws her hands up, “How the fuck would i have known that? You could’ve been out with another woman for all i knew!” she exclaimed, her voice deepens when she yells, shes serious. you could tell deep down that she knew she was being irrational, but wanted the attention way too much to stop.

“Why the fuck would you think that?” Ellie questions, an almost humorous amount of confusion in her tone. Dina scoffs and shakes her head as she gently pads bare feet over to the counter.

“It’s about the principle, Ellie. obviously i knew you were working..” she trails off, bringing her delicate crystal glass to her lips. ellie laughs, “Oh! so you don’t trust me, is that it?” she places a hand on her hip, her eyes trails to Dina’s lips, a drop of red stained cabernet slipping down the fat of her lip. Dina reaches up and swipes the droplet away.

“Ellie, I didn't say that -”

“Okay but that's how you feel, no?” Ellie challenges, her voice raising over Dina’s. Dina’s mouth opened slightly in shock. her lack of reply influenced Ellie to push farther for an answer, “Well?” when she was met with silence again Ellie nodded. the final confirmation. Dina didnt know where she was going with this, or what the fuck she was even talking about this. and Ellie was fed up.

“Quit starting fights for no reason.” she scoffed, before marching to the door to retrieve her keys and coat. she didn't wait for Dina to chase her, she just left her there, bewildered in a pool of her own regret.

Ellie's car was still warm when she sat down in the drivers seat. she didnt know if it was from her trip home from work, or the heat of her anger playing games with her mind. all she knew was that she didn't care.

the drive was silent. no angry playlist, or self soothing yelling. it was just.. silent. Ellie wasn't quite sure where she was going when she left the house, but as the frantic lights of downtown came into her view, she decided quickly.

That was the first night that Ellie stepped foot in the club on main, a booming building filled with night owls and sugar babies. the building was easy to spot from anywhere in the city. she had a solid plan. only stay for a bit, drink as little as possible, and think about her dearest wife the whole time.

she was only there because she was in dire need of a drink, to cool off from the days events. but obviously things didn't go according to plan. Ellie ended up staying until the early hours of the morning. becoming quite familiar with one of the bartenders during her stay.

two years. you had been bartending for two excruciating years when your boss pulled you aside and asked you to start dancing. It’s real good money, doll. your boss stated, his tone was calm, no signs of having ill intentions. but still you couldn’t be so sure.

at first you politely declined, not thinking twice before turning down the offer. but with the help of your coworkers and bestfriend, you grew conflicted.

on one hand, you're a dirt poor college dropout who wants to make something with their life, so dancing and showing a little skin wasn't the worst thing you’ve done to make rent. but on the other? your dignity is fighting against it. you weren’t always this way, however.

you grew up in the city with your parents, a small bungalow and two cats was the life that you lived. you didn't grow up lavish, but the hand me down clothes and few days without water were normal for you.

when you were thirteen your dad split, meeting a woman he loved more than you and mom and disappearing into the night. after that incident you weren’t too sure what to feel, all you knew was emptiness.

for the first few years, your mother was overly attentive. scheduling weekly therapy appointments that you couldn’t afford and going out of her way to pick you up early from school. you moved quietly, robotically. every day went the exact same: wake up, go to school, come home, sleep, repeat.

slowly, your mother stopped scheduling your therapy appointments, and you started missing less and less school. you didn't realize the importance of these habits until they were ripped away from you. you stopped sleeping as well and started rebelling. there were a few instances when people of authority referred to you as Troubled youth.

eventually, your mothers horrible way of working through grief caught up to her. and you were the first to notice. skipping out on work, frequent liquor store visits, shady texts late into the night. you weren’t stupid, you knew she was using.

one night, another one spent locked in your room in order to avoid your mom and her cross faded friends, you couldn’t sleep. you could feel every bone in your body, your hair was dirty against your pillow, and your mother was hosting a not-so-quiet party.

you had already texted her hours ago, urging her to keep it down while you studied for an upcoming test. no reply. you sighed angrily before kicking your legs over the side of the bed. a strong feeling of frustration building in your stomach. angry tears prick against your eyelids. threatening to fall from beneath your waterline. you weren’t sure what your plan was, maybe to take a hot shower, or to storm down there and scream at her in front of all her drunk friends -

“Hey, Kiddo..” a masculine voice enters your room. you quickly turn around to identify the stranger. Randy, a friend of your mothers. someone she met shortly after her addiction blossomed. He was a sweet man who always tried to make you feel safe even in times of chaos. He almost resembled that of a father figure, in a weird twisted way.

“Oh, Hey.. you scared me.” you whisper laughed. he eventually wandered into the cold room, closing the door behind him.

“Sorry ‘ bout that, wasn't my intention i swear.” he played, a small laugh coming out of his nose. he stood in front of your bed for a few seconds, lazy small talk filling the silence for a few lonely minutes. eventually, he sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. you could sense the newfound tension in your room and straightened your posture at the sight. ears perking up like a puppy.

“Well,” he calls your name, gently looking up to the roof as if to hold back tears. you quietly question him, shifting your body so you were now standing up too.

“Your mamas in real deep, don't know how much longer you're gonna be able to stay here.” he sighed. concern evident in his town. he slowly began to wander around the room again. settling now on your bed. he patted the space next to him, signaling for you to join him.

you follow quickly, taking your spot next to him quickly. “What do you- what do you mean? She - i mean, i know shes bad, but shes not that bad!” you exclaim. those same tears from earlier making their way back. a lump appears in your throat at his words. fearwashing over you like hot, hot water.

“Shes.. not in a good place. shes really deep into her addiction.. and, some of the drugs shes doing aren’t… safe.” he admits carefully. his eyes studying you for any reaction. at this point you're frantic, hands shaking with fear, tears streaming down your cheeks. randy tries to calm you down, but it hardly suffices.

after minutes of hyperventilating you realize that this wasn't just your usual crying session, you were having a panic attack, right in front of randy. he stands there shocked, unable to figure out how to help you.

fat tears stream down your cheeks as you gasp for air. “Sweetheart, Deep breaths. Are you - Fuck!” The mans attempts to calm you are futile. you grasp at your tank top, you felt your lungs rising and falling beneath your chest.

Randy manages to calm you slightly, placing his hands atop your shoulders. “Deeps breaths, In and out.. There we go.” he coos. you take a huge breath in, the rush in your mind slowing as the cold air fills your lungs. Randy nods, matching your breathing. it took some time, but he managed to mediate your panic.

“I’m sorry, i - Are you okay?” he asks eagerly, shaking his head at his own dumb question. “Fuck, of course you’re not okay. Your mom is-” a final sob leaves your mouth at the mere mention of your mothers condition.

“I’m sorry..” he whispers. his voice was somber, a knowing tone.

Soon enough, Randy became a reoccurring confidant. he was there when things got tough, and even when things were easy - he was there.

Your days grew brighter, and your mind was finally almost free of distractions. even your grades were getting better. Randy slowly became someone you could trust. an almost father figure. He did things that your mother couldn’t, like signing permission slips, and helping you with trigonometry homework.

it was all sweet and innocent, just two people trying to manage the troubles of anothers addiction.

After a few months of aced chem tests, and take out dinners Randy became.. shifty. you couldn’t exactly put your finger on it, but it was obvious. He would sneak up to your window late in the night, and offer you shots when you came down from your room. your mother hadn’t noticed, to deep in her own hole to care about your vulnerability.

one night in particular, a vivid nightmare that you're yet to forget. an event that haunted you for years to come. randy snuck into your room. a drunken mistake as he called it. but after this you knew you had to get out of there.

From that point on, you worked as hard as you could. while the cycle of abuse continued in your home life, you were determined to get yourself out.

you deprived yourself of sleep to study, spent your days in school, and evenings were strictly for working. you kept quiet at home, laid low in your bedroom while the chaos unfolded beneath you. you kept this up for months before springing the idea on your bestfriend, Callie.

You met callie freshman year soccer tryouts, it was a warm memory, something you could never forget.

your cleats pressed against the soft ground of the soccer field, black turf coating your knees. her voice was loud: assertive. you laughed as you watched her order around other potential players. earning herself a scolding from the coach, but you could tell, her abilities would carry her onto the team. “Hey chickie, What position you usually play?” were the first words she ever said to you.

“Uhh - Midfield.” you confirm, your previous soccer experience was minimal. but when you played, you played hard. she nodded, a pleasant smile on her face. “Tight! im a striker, top of the food chain.” Callie takes a seat next to you, graciously handing over her water bottle.

after that day you two were the epitome of inseparable. she knew every little detail about your life, and you knew everything about hers. one soccer tryout turned into late night sleepovers and carpooling to school. Callie was the one stable element of your life, your rock.

and that, led you here. at 17 you were able to move into a small apartment with callie. a blessing in disguise. your mother hadn’t even noticed, her drug ridden vision eventually caving in on her. you cut contact with her and Randy. Callie was there for every step, vowing that if you had any self respect, you would never reach out again.

after graduation, you were able to crack into what was left of your college fund, attending university alongside Callie was a dream, and finally you had obtained that. you went in with a plan, a major, a minor, and a job lined up. a bartending gig that you had applied for, with the help of one of callie’s friends, Abby. your best friend followed, majoring in social work and harbouring a premium gym membership.

you worked your ass off, if anyone is deserving of this, its you. the wise words of Callie echoed in your ears as you clicked the confirm button on her laptop. confirming your withdrawment from school. you’ve just finished your sophomore year, going on two years of peace, and once again your life is falling apart.

you had been working since you were living at home, but it didn't help. you were now in debt to a school that you loved, and struggling to make ends meet. but the financial burden was too much to bear. so, you withdrew. of course Callie supported your decision, promising to be beside you for every step of the way. it was hard, you cried, you drank, and slept your way through this.

your whole life is built upon what used to be, you used to be a college student, you used to live a comfortable life with goals and aspirations. you used to be subjected to abuse everyday, but what were you now?

now, you were a bartender on weekdays, and a stripper on weekends. but that wasn’t always your plan. your shift was long, you had six people trying to start fights, two clearly underage girls asking for dirty martinis, and a man throwing up on your shoes in the span of eight hours. to say you were tired was an understatement.

“Hey!” you hear a familiar voice call out to you. when you turn around you're met with your manager, Miles. quickly jogging to catch up to you.

“Oh, hey! what's up?” you greet him, your voice hoarse from a night of mediating and drink slinging. Miles takes a minute to catch his breath, you let out a small laugh at his unathleticism. “Would you, okay.. holy shit - I need a favour.” you raise an eyebrow at his statement, unaware of any favours he needs that you would be able to help with.

“Uhhh, okay.. Shoot!” you scrape up the last of your energy to feign enthusiasm. Miles takes a deep breath in, shifting his weight to one leg. “How would you feel about dancing..” your jaw drops. this was a reoccurring subject that Miles had been bringing up.

dancing, you?

“We are short on girls after Nyla quit. You would get paid well, and the customers already love you!” he pleads, his tone desperate. you knew he wouldn’t be asking if there was any other options.

“I mean - they love me because I put extra vodka in the vodka crans, and salt the rims for free! I’m not sure I'm the one they want on the pole.” your rambling now, unaware that you just outed yourself for your discounted services.

“Wait, you're giving out free sho - Whatever. I don't care.” He shakes his head, miles gives you one last pleading look, “Will you please just consider it?”

you sigh, looking down at the ground. “Just on weekends.” he clarifies. you look up at him again, weekends wasn't so bad. but then you’d be working everyday. but then again, you could probably save up enough money to go back to school. you give Miles a curt nod, “I’ll think about it.” you say, before opening your car door.

he thanks you politely before walking back inside, a feeling of confliction fills your bones. you take a deep breath in and slump against the seat. “Hey siri, call callie.”

that is how you ended up here. callie had convinced you to at least try dancing, “It’s for my sake! i need that bad bitch energy around. channel your inner slut!” were her exact words, and somehow - thats all you needed.

you're twenty two now and have been dancing for a few months, and bartending for 3 years. you were quite good at keeping the seductive portion of your job a secret, only informing Callie of your whereabouts during the weekends.

you grew to enjoy dancing, the other girls welcomed you with open arms and extra lash glue, which was in fact a lifesaver. Although you enjoyed the money, and the freedom of dancing, you always favoured the bartending portion of your job. you had friends on that side, and a few unforgettable customers. one regular in particular really piqued your interest. her wedding band, however? not so much.

Series Taglist . ✦ ݁ ˖

@valeisaslut @bambi-luvs @modernvenuss @sewithinsouls @elliesfreckle @andieprincessofpower @les4elliewilliams @emmiland @thxtmarvelchick @lambcultist @applejusue @marscardigan @mars4hellokitty @loserabby @r3starttt @fempr1ncesss @purinukie @tomato-tomago @miajooz @miaereen @metalsaturnringzz @incog-nizo @honeyylovee @asymetricstar @itssravenn @doodl3b3ans @firefly-ace @kirammanss @dinosaur-hehe @ellieskitty @bluminescent-moon @natssgf @nsrvaii @ellieslittleslutt @elliesngirl @aslvt4ellieandabby @freakyjorker @liztreez @flowersonstreets @laylay6xo3 @monki-nat @crucifiedfem @lunshimmer @ryskissr @losingmysenseofself @tojisballsholder @remusandlunakinnie @justagirlexisting @softqirls @jujuszn @kylorey25 @starheartstyles

i cant tag anymore than 50! turn your post notifications on to be notified when i update <3

[limerlove]

hi rayray:) can i have 15 and with any character you like!

eighteen+, minors dni. content warning: wc under 1k. rockstar!abby + popstar!reader, public sex, voyeriusm, fingers. dialogue prompt: “scream my name while you cum” + “touch yourself, i want to watch” (abby)

#rayraynote — this is eons late and i apologize! i have no sense of time and my tumblr drafts get combed through every few months. but here's a smutty drabble.

she's ego-filled, maniac tendencies dripping from her well-manicured fingertips, but abby anderson truly knows how to fuck. for most, it's a death sentence waiting to happen. each time, she grows more fond of the all the ways you used to tell her no. sacred sin spills like a treasured scripture, fresh ink drying on the scroll.

purpose for salvation — she gives a new meaning for the revelations. a god among it's creation to save the proclaimed self-righteous but the sinners are just as fallen as the saved. begging for a second chance. an overflow of mercy to be redeemed and you’d rather be drowned in the blood of a wolf than to follow the mindless sheep.

a woman who is taken, unavailable — fucking a rockstar who hits on her at a rundown, middle of nowhere bar you hadn’t even bothered to remember the name of. blonde-headed and tall. someone beautiful, hot and the muscular drummer who happened to know to bring the edge. the rhythm onestage spilling in your lower lips, splitting you however she pleases.

debauchery twisted when her lips kiss yours for the first time. the first fuck haunts you more than you wish it did. and the love you keep under lock and key for her threatens to unravel each time. the only thing holding it together was some semblance of love you had for your girlfriend.

it’s what keeps you away for four months, trying to be good, you tell yourself when you picture oceanic eyes and a field of freckles making home behind your mind each time you come. a memory of how wonderful she made you feel, it keeps you awake but crushes you in the wake of her absence.

one you dissolved your conscious of but you still miss her. and it brings you here, back in her arms — outside her favorite bar, tucked in the midnight shadows of the alley she hides you in.

“pretty popstar you are. where’s your pretty starlet actress girlfriend now?” you clench your jaw, the muscle spasms yet you make no effort to stop her double-digit efforts. “maybe the rumors are true.”

degradation sinks in, a thirsty vampire begging to feed, and the pain they bring is a temporary inconvenience. she might as well be. abby knows how to suck you dry but she chooses to leave you alive.

only enough to punish you.

“would you just shut up the fuck up and fuck me?” the words slip before the opportunity arises to catch them. the silence deafens.

“i know you didn’t just say that to me.” abby tuts, her fingers gliding along your bare stomach, the fabric brushed into your ribcage. “here i am, being generous and fucking my good girl, and you tell me to shut the fuck up.”

there’s contemplation resting behind sorrowful eyes but there’s a rightfully-placed pride. to a certain degree, she likes when you push your luck, as long as you don’t push too far.

“baby—”

“nuh uh, we’re past that.” abby drops her lips branch your ear and whispers, “for that, i’m not touching you. in fact, touch yourself. i want to watch.”

even though ever fiber of your body wants to defy her, leave her in the alley begging and waiting for you — that’s not how this works. it’s her call you answer. it’s you who wants to be fucked with her pretty thick fingers and the power of her hips pinning your cunt with hers. without fail, you’ll come running each time.

from the false belief of this being the last time dies when she won’t touch you. abby knows it’s what you need. every ounce of her and not having fingertips glide along your petal of folds, lips that blossom for her, is a justifiable death sentence.

without giving it a second thought, you sink your fingers in her cunt, moaning as she applies pressure to your hips — a fail safe mercy. her touch sinks in the dips of your skin, coaxing you into her mayhem.

“good girl. now put another inside, princess. you know i always make you come with three.” abby teases, her pierced-tongue glides along the your hollowed throat, nipping at your collarbone. the hued-bruising that may or may not appear if she continues to suck.

“i miss your fingers, it doesn’t feel as good.”

“you should have thought about that before you mouthed off.” abby claims your mouth, you’re her property and she’ll remind you if she has to. "now you'll just have to focus on the sound of my voice...whispering your ear telling you exactly how to fuck your pussy. the one that will forever belong to me."

"fuck, it's yours. always yours."

the immediate compliance rings true, she basks in your submission and woefully angles her head enough to push down the fabric, perky-nipples pebbled while her tongue glides over the sweet surface. abby bathes them in attention, her fingers pinching the lone breast not recieving the privilege of her mouth.

with each glide of her tongue you’re brought closer to the edge. all self-control lost and you drown in the salvation of her touch, begging for the lips tucked between your thighs to spill white snow in the heat of a blazing summer.

“then show me. scream my name while you cum.”

[tasteful-side-ball]

I was a janitor for a tourist attraction park. One time someone missed the toilet and pooped on the floor, stepped on it, and proceeded to track it around the entire public washroom. Another time someone took their used tampon and threw it at the bathroom walls, getting blood and waste everywhere. One of my coworkers who had been working there for years told me about how people who come to the park distressed will sometimes smear their feces on bathroom stalls. Families would bring their kids, who would eat too much candy and park food and throw up on the boardwalks and attractions. Parents would frequently leave dirty diapers in the parking lot for me to deal with.

Stuff like this happened constantly. every day. I’m sure if the original poster had to deal with it every day at work for minimum wage they’d change their tune real quick.

There’s also a lot more physical labour involved in janitorial work than I think people realize, with power tools that require training and PPE. One of my coworkers badly broke his leg doing one of the more physical tasks.

Don’t get me wrong I loved this job; getting to work outside and keep to myself was great, and doing the indoor garbage rounds let me talk to a lot of cool people who worked as ambassadors for the park. But it was often unsanitary work and repetitive physical labour. Just because you don’t need a bachelors degree to be a trash man shouldn’t diminish the value of that labour

[literary-dolly]

mr. & mrs. todd - pt. 2

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 7k warnings: canon typical violence, implied sexual content, angst, explicit violence against reader, diabolical overuse of italics

Jason has always prided himself on his ability to keep his vigilante life a secret - now you know about him, and he knows about you too. (Inspired by Mr. & Mrs. Smith, 2005)

part i

It’s a pain you haven’t felt in a long time, you think, as you bolt through the front door of the apartment building, praying to every deity you can think of that none of your neighbours see you pass.

It’s difficult not to wince as the floorboards groan under foot, only worsened by the grinding of your teeth together, attempting to swallow the pain of your now nearly week-old injuries. It had seemed like a paradise, the stairway to heaven, this old decrepit hallway to yours and Jason’s new apartment. Now, it seemed like a Chinese fingertrap, drawing in tighter at both ends. The flaws you had blissfully avoided – water stains on the ceiling, burst pipes, nails sticking out of the woodwork – seemed all too plain; you’d been willing to overlook them for the sake of love, but clearly there were many things you had avoided seeing.

He can’t be here, you’d told yourself. It was too soon after the bomb, no way he could have made it back here already. You had a clear window to get your shit and go as fast as you could, get out of Gotham and ahead of the mess you’ve made for yourself. The cold metal of the doorknob stings more than any punch or betrayal, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re opening Pandora’s box, releasing all the good you’ve ever done and leaving behind nothing but a skeleton of a love you’d once cherished with nothing more than a flick of the wrist.

But it was much more than a flick of the wrist that had gotten you in this situation. You’ve never cried about being a murderer, a killer, before – it would be insincere to start the moment things go wrong.

Everything is coated in black as the door swings open, only illuminated by a faint slither of moonlight fighting its way through the curtain. It’s enough to guide you towards the bedroom, your mind consumed with only the thought of retrieving your kit from the false bottom of the closet.

That is until a sword embeds itself into the wall only inches away from your head.

In an instant, you dive behind the couch and tear your gun from its holster. It’s humbling, the trembling of your hands, a phenomenon you’d thought years of experience had trained away. It only solidifies your deepest fears – that Jason Todd has managed to infiltrate even your deepest subconscious.

“Good evening, sweetheart,” his voice is lined heavy with malice, but you know enough to recognise the thickness in his words. It’s just as you lift your head over the couch to try and get a decent look at him that a bullet seems to fly directly towards your eyes. “Or should I say good morning? Long night.”

“Hi, honey,” you muster your fakest, chirpiest voice, “You’re normally in bed by this time. Something on your mind?”

“Was feeling paranoid about intruders, you know, it is Gotham after all,” Jason bites, and you can hear him fiddling with his pistol. You take the opportunity to jump up from your spot behind the couch and let out a few shots back at him. He, almost expecting the turn of events, dives behind the dining table.

“Well, sweetheart, I’m not exactly an intruder,” you bark, sinking a few bullets into the wood for good measure as you manage to creep steadily closer to where your fiancé is hiding, “I do live here.”

A gloved hand shoots out from behind the table, yanking your leg out from underneath you, bones rattling as you hit the floor with what seems to be an unreasonable degree of force. Before you can even catch your breath, Jason is on you, pinning you to the ground. He’s in full Red Hood gear bar the helmet, greenish eyes almost flickering as they bore down into you. His breath dripping down onto your cheek is enough to make your body squirm, teeth bared like the jaws of a rabid dog.

“You tried to blow me up,” Jason grates out, seemingly unable to articulate anything else.

“I apologised.”

“You tried to blow me up.”

“In fairness, baby, you made it pretty fuckin’ easy.”

“Was it true? What you said at the Gala? Or did you just make it up.” You can practically taste his words as he exhales them, so agonisingly close. It’s painful: the embrace isn’t new, memories of nights tangled together filtering through the back of your mind, mornings inscribing sweet nothings into each other’s skin – but the emotion, is new. The pure unfiltered rage.

The words die in your throat as you attempt to spit them out, coming out as little more than a hoarse whisper, “Of course it was true.”

You manage to duck out the way just as his fist splinters the floorboard where your head had been. Deeper instinct kicks in before you can truly react, and you slam your leg up between his thighs where you’re certain it’ll really hurt, eliciting a sharp oof from Jason as he keels forward, giving you enough time to scramble backwards out of the cage of his arms.

“Christ, sweetheart, I didn’t think you were that low,” Jason wheezes, hand reaching out blindly to attach itself to your ankle. You try your best to create some distance, backing up towards the front door, but Jason is up and on you before you can get there. He shoves you back against the wall with all he can seem to muster, and you feel the back of your head crack into the wood. You manage to fend him off with a quick jab to the nose before he can get too close, but he still manages to grapple your wrists above your head.

“Stop struggling,” he huffs out, chest heaving, “you’re coming with me.”

You slam your head straight into his teeth. His groan is guttural, but before you can slide out of his grip for a second time you feel the familiar burn of a knife ripping into your thigh, Jason jamming you to the spot like a poster on a pinboard. The snarl of his lip churns your gut, the blood coating his teeth, and once again you’re reminded that you don’t know the man in front of you, not really. Not what he’s truly capable of.

“C’mon now,” you pant, “I know we’re going for strangers more than sweethearts right now, but surely you’ve got to know I’m not going to just come with you.”

“I know, that’s why I brought this one too.” You let out a gasp as a clearly serrated knife sinks itself into your other thigh, and it takes years-worth of training not to just buckle at the knees then and there.

“Is that a knife in your pocket–” you take a deep breath before yanking the first knife out, sinking it into Jason’s shoulder with gritted teeth, “ –or are you just happy to see me?”

Jason stumbles back a little, ripping the blade out and letting it clatter on the ground, “I think you destroyed any chance I had of being happy to see anyone ever again about 2 minutes ago.”

Oddly, it’s a feeling of jealousy that thrums in your fingertips. In spite of the situation, and everything that has occurred, the momentary idea of your fiancé even considering being with anyone else is the closest you’ve gotten to a normal relationship squabble in the last week.

So, you slap him. Not particularly hard, just enough to sting. Naturally, Jason’s eyes go as wide as saucers.

“What was that for?”

You throw a vase at his head, which he dodges effortlessly, “Already thinking about your next conquest, yeah?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Jason blinks incredulously, “Are you fucking crazy?”

“Don’t you dare call me crazy,” you snap, swinging your fist round towards his ear, which he just about manages to block, wrenching your wrist to the side. You respond with a swift kick to the stomach, but it does little to move him.

You trade blows back and forth for what seems to stretch into an eternity. The new bookshelf you brought from the hallway in pieces, Jason used one of the shelves to smash against your head. The new set of knives Jason had brought for the kitchen, well, three of them are in him and two of them are in you. The luxury feather pillows the two of you’d decided to treat yourselves to are in tatters, torn and scattered all over the apartment.

It only stops when there’s a tentative knock at the front door.

You both freeze, turning together with a sickening air of familiarity, eyes dancing back and forth as each of you search for the answer in the other.

With a curt nod of agreement, you begin stripping off.

You scrabble at your tactical gear piece by piece, kicking it haphazardly into the kitchen. Despite the throbbing of your injuries, you dart for the couch, reaching to pull the soft (ironically) red blanket from Jason’s old apartment tightly around yourself. Jason does the same, caring little for coverage, stripping down to nothing but his underwear and dark vest, scrubbing the blood out of his teeth with a kitchen cloth. For just a second, you falter as the two of you come together at the front door; Jason’s arm slips around your waist with ease, you slink your hand around to cradle his neck.

For a brief moment, there is nothing but silence. Not even the mingling of your breaths can be heard, imprisoned within your ribcage, but you swear you can hear the fire that burns in the air between you. Jason’s eyes are red rimmed, one of them showing the telltale signs of bruising, but they’re full of something so incredibly earnest as he stares down, jaw ever so slightly on a hinge. You can only hope that you don’t look equally as lovesick.

Another knock at the door. Louder this time.

With a deep breath, Jason pulls you tightly against his side, cracking the door just enough to reveal both of you in your somewhat risqué stages of undress.

Of course, Dick Grayson is the one stood outside your apartment at 4am.

“Hey… Jay,” Dick begins tentatively, nodding to you politely, “I just came to check on you. You both. You know? You, uh, rushed off pretty quick after the Gala, but I can see you were, ah, busy.”

“Oh, sorry, he just drives me crazy, you know,” you gush through gritted teeth, swallowing your wince as Jason stamps on your toes, “we just wanted to get home as quick as we could.”

“Never got what people said about young love until now, right, sweetheart?” Jason adds sheepishly, pulling you so taut against his skin that you can feel the hammering of his pulse.

“And the bombing just got you two all riled up?” Dick replies flatly, quirking a brow in clear disbelief.

“Never quite realise how good you’ve got it until you almost lose it, right Princess?” Jason quips. You dig your fingertips into the stab wound in his shoulder tucked behind the door.

“Right,” Dick hums, and you’re forced to pull the blanket tighter around yourself as his eyes narrow, clearly scanning over the various bumps and scratches you and Jason bare. “You look injured, both of you. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you can envision the bored look on Jason’s face without needing to see it, “We both got a few scrapes in the chaos of it all.”

“Honestly, Dick,” you start, all smiles, “as soon as we learned everyone was okay, we shot off. It’s been a long few days, me and Jay haven’t really seen each other and, well, we just wanted to be at home, you know?”

Dick seems to deflate a little, seemingly backing down from his fight somewhat, “You sure, Jason? You’re usually more of a get to the bottom of things kind of guy.”

Jason’s eyes light up with something akin to amusement as he chirps out, “Well Dickhead, there was only really one thing I was trying to get to the bottom of tonight–”

“Ew, Jason, gross,” Dick cringes, “Stop-”

“You’re the one that knocked on the door while we were having se–”

“Jason,” Dick whines as you bury your head in Jason’s shoulder to stifle your giggles, “Stop, it’s disgusting. I don’t want to hear about it.”

“Grow up,” Jason bites back, “What do you think we do all day? Sit around twiddling our thumbs?”

“All day? JASON!” Dick’s got his hands over his ears now, making soft lalala sounds to mask his brother’s words.

“Just leave it, go home, idiot,” Jason’s hand waves languidly at your shoulder, and you can practically hear his eyes rolling back in his head. “We’re fine.”

For just a second Dick seems to hesitate, eyes scanning over both of you for a final time before he lets out a dramatic sigh. “Fine, fine, whatever. Forgive me for being a caring big brother,” he pauses to flit his eyes in your direction, sending an icy chill down to the very base of your spine, “I’ll leave you two to it. Goodnight.”

Jason swings the door shut without a word. Ever the charmer.

All at once, the air in your lungs seems to leave in a steady rattle, you and Jason both frozen still until the telltale echo of Dick’s footsteps leaving the stairwell below fade into obscurity. As Jason spins on his heel, you brace for impact out of instinct, entire body going taut to anticipate the next swing; instead, he just throws you an exhausted look and collapses down onto the couch.

It's deathly silent for minutes until he finally speaks up.

“I don’t…” he begins softly, staring down at his bloodied knuckles, flexing them in and out, “I don’t know what to do. But I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t… want to hurt you. Believe it or not.”

“Clearly,” you snip, lowering yourself steadily next to him, ignoring the glare he sends in your direction. “And all of this anger has what? Gone in the space of a short conversation.”

“Don’t get it twisted, baby,” his words are sharp, “I’m still fucking pissed. But...I know…I can’t–”

“We both,” you hesitate, twisting to face him, “lied. We both lied, Jason. We have a right to be angry, I suppose, but we’re also kind of, you know, in the same boat. I didn’t set the bomb to hurt you – hurt anyone – I just wanted to get away. I didn’t come here to fight.”

“You came here to leave.” His words are barely audible, just a lingering afterthought in his exhale, but the hurt in them is palpable.

“Can you blame me? You’re really giving me mixed signals here, Jay,” you mutter quietly in return, reclining back, “I didn’t think you wanted me sticking around.”

“I don’t,” he begins quickly, ruthlessly, before softening, “but I do. I don’t know what I want.”

In spite of your better judgement, the pain in your bones isn’t enough to stop you from lurching forward and pressing your lips against his. It’s quick, and not particularly passionate or warm, more laden with surprise than anything else. You jump back quickly, dropping your gaze to the floor, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. This is just confusing and–”

He kisses you back. This time, it’s passionate. It’s lacking in all of the tenderness you’d become accustomed to in intimacy with Jason – he’d always cradled you like something precious that he was terrified of breaking. At the time, it had made your heart swell in your chest, the only person in the world to hold you like something to be treasured. But you didn’t want that now; what Jason was giving you was raw emotion, frayed edges, pushing you back into the couch all while bleeding out every inch of anguish, upset and anger accumulated over the past week. In spite of the warning bells screaming in the back of your mind, you can’t help but slide a hand into the curls at the nape of his neck and kiss him back with just as much fervour.

Ever the gentleman, he navigates you onto his lap gently, all too aware of both of your injuries. He looks somewhat pained as you wince, cradling what you can imagine is several broken ribs, but wastes no time in kissing you back again.

Lightly, you press your thumb to his bottom lip, prising him away, “Jay, Jason. I don’t…know if this is a good idea, we’re…”

“I know,” Jason whispers ever so delicately, “I know but, baby, I don’t care. Right now, I don’t – I don’t want to care about it all. I need you. Tomorrow can be tomorrow’s problem, but please just let us have tonight. Let’s just pretend, like you said, yeah?”

You’d like to believe that you were the sensible one, that you took more than a millisecond to consider Jason’s proposal, but you’re nodding before he’s even finished the question. The smile he offers you in return is weak, a defeated quirk of the lip, but there’s a softness lining his eyes, a wet laugh fighting its way out of your throat. His kiss is more delicate then, something much more akin to a time before now.

You don’t protest as he lifts you up, treading slowly towards the bedroom. It’s destroyed. There are feathers everywhere, the mattress is torn up in multiple places, bedside cabinets dashed across the room, but you can’t seem to care, and neither does he. There’s something sickeningly familiar in the way he lays you down, attaching his lips to yours once again.

You’d thought that the past few days had bled you of everything that made you human, leaving behind nothing but a carcass reeking of death and destruction – but in spite of it all, there’s something about Jason Todd that makes you feel irrefutably human again.

It’s the sunlight that wakes you the next morning (the curtains you’d spent so much time putting up had long since been destroyed in the fray), and it takes more than a few minutes to put together your surroundings. Sleeping on a concussion probably wasn’t your smartest of plays.

The events of the evening before trickle back into your mind like honey, thick and slow, bit by bit drawing into some shifting kind of focus. Jason remains undisturbed, dead to the world, as his chest rises and falls in the same shallow motion. You’d always found it intoxicating, watching him sleep; the way the dent in his brows would smooth out making him look his age for once, the slight part of his lips, the way his knuckles tense and relax against your bare skin. You were no stranger to staring at him with injuries, but the primal urge boiling in your stomach to protect him seems to naturally oppose the hot guilt you feel for giving them to him.

The killer in the back of your mind suggests that it would be the perfect opportunity to get away, to slit his throat, leave Gotham and be done with this mess once and for all. But it’s not the first time Jason has challenged everything in your nature, the start of your relationship had been enough for you to question all that you’d ever thought you’d known about the world and how it worked – it’s brutality, it’s ruthlessness. He’d shown you a love you didn’t think was reserved for people like you. It’s a harrowing thought to realise that he had probably thought the same.

“G’morning,” his voice is gruff, startling you from your thoughts, and he doesn’t quite crack his eyes open, opting to just let the low rumble filter out between his lips.

“Hi Jay,” it comes out as nothing more than a whisper, you can’t quite bring yourself to look at him, “Uh, how are you feeling?”

“Sore.” He begins to shuffle himself into something of an upright position, finally staring down at you with those eyes. His limbs faintly pressed against yours are an ever-present reminder of the sheer size of him, just how big his entire form is as he unravels from his slumber, stretching out next to you.

It takes you a moment to form the words, and you try to dispel the suspicion in them, “You seem oddly at ease, you know, given the last 24 hours.”

“God, I thought we’d have at least half an hour before we got into this,” he scrubs his hands over his face, but there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. It’s unsettling. “I came to a conclusion last night.”

“While we were fighting or while we were…” you trail off sheepishly.

“Fucking? A little bit of both.”

“Go on.”

He lets out a sigh, features hardening somewhat, “You can’t kill me.”

“I can’t kill you?” You huff, bemused, “You want to test that theory?”

“If you wanted to kill me you would have done it by now. Which means that you can’t do it. And if you’re anything like me, which I think we’ve learned that we’re far more similar than we thought, I…” His entire body twitches, as though everything within him is resisting against the words that come next, “I can’t kill you either. Which, in turn, means that neither of us are dying any time soon.”

It’s a struggle to find your voice after his confession. It’s like a slap to the face, to hear the words that you’d feared for the past week laid out so plainly in front of you. He was right, there was no world in which you could ever be the one to kill Jason Todd. You can feel your teeth grinding against each other, a mixture of devastation at how events have unfolded, a mourning of everything you’ve lost, and the blood-curdling screams telling you that you failed your mission. Death before failure, that was the way you had been trained, raised. But here you are, not only unable to kill Jason but unable to let yourself die either – not willing to risk an existence without him in it.

“What do we do, Jay?” The words sound a little broken in your throat, and in spite of everything, he still brings a hand up to drag his fingers up and down your spine. “We don’t know each other. We’ve tried to kill each other.”

Jason sucks in a deep breath, and you practically jump back as he pushes his hand out in front of him, “My name is Jason Todd. I’m also known as the Red Hood, a murderous vigilante that has far too much fun killing criminals. I was Robin, I was partially raised by Batman, and I died when I was 15. But I came back, ta-da.”

“What are you doing?”

“Reintroducing myself.” There’s a smug grin on his face.

“You definitely aren’t the Jason I knew. He was much less forgiving. More of a holding grudges, take this to my grave kind of guy,” you can’t fight the fondness that creeps its way into your tone, and it’s a fight to resist the urge to jump into his arms right then and there. It’s nauseating how quickly he’s disarmed you.

“First of all, take this to my grave, very funny. Glad this new you still has old you’s sense of humour,” Jason reaches out to take your hand in his own, a look so genuine across his features, “Go on, tell me.”

It’s your worst nightmare. The one thing you wanted to do least in the world. But you have to. For him. You state your name, Jason nodding along encouragingly, “I grew up not great. Fell into the wrong crowd. Bad people. They made it very clear you either get money or get gone. First person I killed was by accident, but they decided I was pretty good at it, so I trained for years, killing for them. Eventually I left, I killed them, but I don’t really have any other marketable life skills so…assassin for hire, ta-da.”

There’s a stormy look that casts over Jason’s face, and you can’t help but notice the way his fingers tighten in the bed sheets. You didn’t know too much about the Red Hood, just about as much as any Gotham resident, but you knew enough to know that he was fiercely protective of children. It’s why his next question doesn’t surprise you, sounding almost painful as it tears out of his throat, “How old were you? When they–”

“Nine,” you admit quietly, “I was nine when I first killed someone.”

Jason’s silent for a few minutes after that; you can practically hear the cogs turning in his brain. The only word to describe the look in his eyes is war, an unfiltered anger bleeding out into the rest of his features. You can’t help but shrink away, unable to hide your fear at the potential wrath at the Red Hood.

Instead, Jason looks confused as you pull away from him, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, I know that I’m a murderer and that you–”

“Be quiet. Now,” Jason grates out, “I don’t blame you. How do you think I could blame you for that?”

“You wouldn’t be the first.”

Jason’s jaw slams shut at that, going back to giving the wall across the room a smouldering glare. “How have I never heard of you?”

You huff out a little laugh, taking him by surprise, and opt to draw back in closer to him again, “I’m not like you, Jay. I’m not a vigilante. I’m not a particularly famous assassin or anything. I don’t have a costume or a name or a niche, I’m no Deathstroke or Lady Shiva, people don’t know me. And I don’t just operate in Gotham.”

“Where do you operate?” Jason’s eyes narrow in intrigue.

“Everywhere. Anywhere. Paying for a hit isn’t cheap – whoever has the money to pay to take someone out doesn’t really care about paying for travel time either.”

“And someone paid you to take me out?”

“Yes, they did. Or they were going to.”

A grin spreads across Jason’s cheeks, and for a second you can forget the horrendous subject of your conversation, “And how exactly is that working out for you?”

You give his shoulder a light shove, “Asshole. I didn’t think they were paying me to take out my fiancé.”

In an instant, it’s like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. That momentary flitter of happiness disappearing with the sun as it dips behind the clouds, leaving the room in a pale, ghastly shade of grey. Jason’s entire body stills, brows knotting deep into a frown, “What if they did?”

“What?”

“What if they knew they were paying you to take out your fiancé? What if they were banking on one of us taking out the other? Us both taking each other out?”

“That’s…” you trail off, thoughts racing back to your conversations with your benefactor, the information they’d given you. It seems improbable, but not impossible. “But we’re both so careful about our identities, right? Someone would have had to know something to even put two and two together.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Jason hums, trapped in a similar trance of thought. “What if this whole time we’ve been fighting someone’s been getting away with something they really shouldn’t’ve?”

“I’m not a hero, Jay,” you blurt out, and his face contorts in confusion, “I’m not a hero. I’m a hitman. I know what you’re thinking – and I agree, we need to look into this – but, but I don’t think I can be what you’re expecting me to be.”

Understanding is the word you would use to describe the look in Jason’s eyes, a deep sense of relatability that screams of I know how you feel as he takes your hands in his own, “I’m not asking you to be a hero. Being a hero is overrated anyway. You don’t have to be a hero, but you have to do what you think is the right thing to do.”

“What are you doing, Jay?” The wave of emotions that had been toiling in your stomach over the last 24 hours finally seems to come to a crest, bubbling at the very top of your throat and overflowing out into your mouth, “This is ridiculous. We’ve discovered that we’re lying to each other for years and what? We’re both just over it? We just move on and work together? I know you’re not the type to forgive easily, neither am I, so why on Earth are you just acting like all of this doesn’t matter?”

“Listen to me very carefully,” Jason starts so incredibly slowly, slightly firm but so very resolute, “We made a promise, yeah? We made a vow when I got down on one knee and you said yes. It might not be official, but it was real, and it was between us. In good times and bad. For better or worse. In sickness and in health. So no, I’m not over it, and it’s going to take a fucking long time to put things back together again. But I think you and I can both say yes, we lied, but if we lied out of anything it was love. And maybe you disagree but it wasn’t all a lie, not to me. Sweetheart, you are the only thing that made me feel like life was worth living for; we both thought we would be each other’s redemption, and maybe we were wrong, but I think we’ll regret it for the rest of our lives if we don’t try.”

You’re speechless. Completely and utterly speechless. Jason’s eyes on your own are the only thing keeping you together, everything within you begging to burst at the seams. His entire body is bleeding devotion, laid bare in front of you, and it pains you how easy it seems to be for him to admit. Jason’s notoriously impulsive, dictated by his emotions, it shouldn’t be a surprise that he can bare them so sincerely – but you, you were always taught to swallow it down, bury it deep, that emotions were the coin toss between success and failure.

But of course you love him. A love that truly seems to be nothing short of unconditional.

Unable to form the words, you simply throw your arms around his shoulders, pressing every square inch of your skin against his own. It’s desperate, frantic, the need to be as close as physically possible. Jason doesn’t falter, simply wrapping around you like armour, cloaking you both from the world and its tribulations. All this time you’d thought you’d die before you’d let Jason Todd discover who you really were; you never could have anticipated that he would stay regardless. You didn’t believe in fate, but maybe, just maybe, it was something otherworldly that brought you together in the first place.

“We’re not starting again,” you affirm, “just… a different chapter.”

“Baby, I fear we’re in a different book entirely,” Jason lets out a tender laugh, before narrowing his eyes jokingly, “Before we start – is there anything else you’ve lied about? Probably a good idea to clean slate it, y’know?”

“You know how I don’t cook often, but you really like it when I do?” Jason’s face seems to shift into something of abject horror at your words, “Yeah. I can’t cook. Like at all. Ever. I’ve never cooked in my life. It’s from a little shop in Metropolis and I bring it back and heat it up whenever I’ve been there.”

“That might be the worst thing I’ve heard all week,” Jason fakes a snivel, flopping back dramatically on the bed with his hand over his heart, “I loved your cooking.”

“C’mon champ,” you hunker down next to him, “your turn.”

“I don’t actually have a drivers license. Like, I know how to operate a vehicle in an emergency situation, but the rules of the road are still a bit iffy. Red means stop, green means go – yeah that’s about the extent of my knowledge.”

“What the fuck Jason?” You slap his arm, unable to keep your horrified laughter from pouring out, “You’ve been driving us round for years and the whole time you’ve just been guessing?”

“Oh, without a doubt, literally every time. I’ve rebought the same car 4 times.”

“What?”

“Yeah, totalled them. Not even vigilante-ing, just driving. All those times I was ‘taking it to the garage’. Yeah, completely different car. Same make and year.”

The two of you continue to banter back and forth until the sun sets in the sky, crystalline moonlight bleeding onto the splintered wooden floors. Getting to know Jason the first time had been a privilege, but it had never been honest. Not truly. But to sit with him, alone, no masks, no lies, and talk freely – sharing stories of your adventures, childhoods, parents, broken bones, that up until this point had been shrouded in layers of meticulously crafted fallacy – you weren’t sure that you had ever loved him more. Not that you ever truly stopped.

It's simply Jason flipping his phone over that smashes through the bubble you’d created, picking it up from where it had tangled in the sheets. A look of uncertainty crosses his face as the screen lights up displaying hundreds of missed calls from everyone. Bruce, Dick, Tim, Duke, Babs, Steph, Cass, even Alfred – Dick’s name is the one the lights it up this time, bold and clear across the screen.

You can hear Jason’s swallow as he answers, “Hi Dickiebird.”

“Jason,” Dick’s voice is more severe than you’d ever heard it – not angry, but dangerously sober, “I think we need to talk.”

“I don’t need to talk to you about shit–”

“Jason,” there’s an air of pleading in his tone, “Come to the Cave.”

“I’m not coming to the fucking Cave–”

“We know, Jason. We know who she is.”

A deeper, brasher voice cuts through, so filled with wrath that you can barely recognise it as that of Bruce Wayne, “Jason. Cave. Now.”

“Fuck you, old man.”

“You will come voluntarily, or you will be brought. Now, Jason.”

The phone goes dead after that, the light of the screen cutting out and leaving the pair of you entrenched in darkness. You can feel Jason shaking beside you; you jump as he flings the phone at the wall, darting up from his spot on the bed with a string of cusses. You can only call out his name gently, hoping to bring him back down to Earth. It takes a minute or two for him to acknowledge you, eventually jarring his head to the side in your direction.

“Jason, you have to go.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jason spits, “No, no, I’m not going. I’m not a dog on a leash that they can just whistle in–”

“Jason. You have to go because you know as well as I do that they will not stop. If you don’t talk to them, they’ll just assume the worst and come after us both. They’re going to come after me anyway because of the bomb.”

“Come with me,” Jason pleads, dropping down beside you at the foot of the bed, “We can talk to them. They know you. They love you.”

“No, Jason, they thought they did. Just like you thought you loved the person that I was pretending to be. They don’t share your sympathies, your understanding of reasons to kill. They have no reason to trust a word that comes out of my mouth.”

“They lied to you too,” his words are so desperate, so clearly scrambling for a reason to not go alone. It grates against your heart, seeing him so vulnerable, “We all lied to you too.”

“That’s different Jay and you know it,” you bring your hand up to caress his cheek, “You have to go. Alone. That’s the only way this can play out.”

It had been a long time since the Cave had felt like a pleasant place to be. Once upon a time it had been filled with wonder, joy, the promise of a new beginning. Since he’d come back, it seemed more like a cell contaminated with heartache and shouting-matches, designed to wrench up every horrible memory Jason fought to keep locked behind his eyes.

Right now, it was filled with seven really pissed off vigilantes and a disappointed butler.

“I can’t believe that you let her get so close, Jason,” Bruce has his brow pinched between his fingers, his voice dripping out in that low timbre at just the right frequency to make Jason’s blood boil, “I thought I trained you better than that.”

“Okay, first of all, Bruce, I don’t think you’re in a position to be lecturing anyone about fraternising with the enemy – need I mention your, oh, biological son with an assassin. We could also bring up Selina, if you wanted to. Both of whom you knew weren’t pictures of moral health when you decided to shack up with them.”

Everyone else is silent, haunting the walls of the Cave without a sound. When even Damian doesn’t speak up at the mention of his mother, his frown only drawing tighter for a moment, Jason knows he’s really fucked. Dick’s the only one that dare enter the fray, standing between himself and Bruce like some sort of barrier. It’s probably for the best; Jason would’ve swung 5 minutes ago if Dick wouldn’t have been there to stop him.

“How long have you known?” Bruce grates out, his eyes not budging from the files clasped tightly in front of him.

“Honestly,” Jason begins, bitter laughter burning the back of his throat, “a week.”

Bruce doesn’t move an inch, not a smidgeon of emotion, “And you have her? Detained?”

“Detained? No, I don’t have her detained,” He’s pacing now, only the click of his boots ringing out against the metal flooring, “I don’t need to detain her.”

Now that gets Bruce moving, head snapping up to attention. It’s Dick that pipes up in his place, remarkably calmer, “Where is she, Jay?”

“She’s at home. In bed.”

“You just left her there?” Bruce is shouting now, making a beeline straight for him, “You left a threat–”

“She’s not a threat, old man.”

“She tried to blow you up.”

“You didn’t care this much the first time someone tried to blow me up, and they succeeded. Give me a fucking break, Bruce.” Jason almost regrets saying it when the hurt flitters across Bruce’s eyes, just for a moment, clear as day. He can hear a few gasps from the sides of the room, a few uncomfortable coughs. Dick spins to face away from them for a few moments, clearly trying to reign in whatever emotion has fought its way forward.

“Listen, B. Everyone. We spoke. We spoke about all of it. She’s like us. Like me. Like Damian. Like Cass. Bruce they started training her to kill at nine years old,” Jason swallows the victory he feels as Bruce seems to wince, face contorting into something akin to confusion, “She needs help. Not to be thrown in a cell to rot. And she didn’t know about us either. Every single one of us lied to her just as much as she lied to us.”

“Yes, but most of us don’t kill, Jay,” Tim pipes up quietly, “I’m not saying you’re wrong. But it’s different.”

“Some of us have,” Cass’ voice rings out firm as she steps forward, “people can change.”

“An assassin’s lifestyle is hard to leave behind, Todd,” Damian sounds oddly sincere for once, the argument clearly having struck a nerve with him, “Are you certain that she truly wants that?”

“Listen, guys, I don’t know everything. We’ve only been on good terms again for – 13 hours. But she’s still my fiancé. I…” Jason has to pause, to take a moment to suck in a deep breath and dispel the tightness building in his chest, turning to Bruce, “You gave every single one of us a second chance at life, you looked past where we started and saw what we could become. That’s what I’m asking you to do now.”

Bruce is a statue for a few minutes, the only signs of life on the man being a twist in his brow, the occasional huff of his breath. It’s a look all of them recognise – the pondering, the considering every avenue. Every option. “I can’t just let this slide. She came into our home and, for whatever reason, put not only ourselves in harms way but our identities. But, if she shows a true desire to change, I can consider ways in which we can move forward after a lengthy discussion.”

Jason thinks he might fall to his knees: if asked, he’d swear on a bible that he didn’t care what Bruce thinks. But unfortunately, everyone knows that’s not true. Even he can admit that having the Bat in your corner, if nothing else, changes every player on the board. “You’re on our side?”

“We’re on your side, Jason.”

“Phew, in that case, I have a problem to make you aware of.”

“Oh, great,” Dick huffs out, some trace of amusement in his tone, “another problem. You’re full of those.”

“We think that whoever was going to pay her to take out the Red Hood knew us. Knew our identities. Knew we were together. They wanted us to take each other out.”

In a sick twist of fate, it’s that moment that Jason’s phone begins to buzz in his back pocket. It had been set to silent for everyone but you. He pulls it out hesitantly, you’d promised to wait for him, stay up until he got back. For just a moment, there’s a tendril of dread that wraps around his gut that you might be calling to say that you’ve left, that you’ve had him, that you’re coming after him all.

As soon as Jason answers, he quickly realises he wishes it was one of those options.

“Hey, Jay. They, uh, they found me. My employer. They have this letter they want me to read, but I just want to tell you that I love you, Jason. I’m sorry. You’ll be okay.”

i highkey don't know how to feel about this. part of me feels it is ooc and that there is no way in hell Jason would forgive that easily - but he is also incredibly emotional and intelligent. i also really struggled to emulate the tone of part i. anyways this time i listened to Love in the Dark on repeat - it shows.

If you liked it, well, like it - a reblog is always appreciated. If you don't like it, leave me alone.

[pastafossa]

Just saw that you’re posting a chapter tonight and honestly it couldn’t come at a better time.

I’m studying for my finals (I have 3 tomorrow) and because they’re literally the last exams I’m most likely ever doing (finally graduating at the end of the month🥳) I’m so fucking stressed. Like I could use some of that guided meditation Matt does or something because I’m a nervous wreck🥴

But seriously, TRT is my comfort story and I need all the comfort rn my eye keeps twitching from stress

MY FRIEND, I hope you did good on your finals, especially since they're your fucking last! I remember that day and it was a huge fucking relief, also HOLY SHIT YOU'RE GRADUATING, YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS CONGRATULATIONS! I obviously won't be there in person when you put that cap on and do your walk, but just know in spirit on that day I'll be flying over doing this:

seriously though can charlie lead an in character meditation or something, maybe just record himself talking as matt doing a guided meditation, please, please sir we need it

[nerdpiggy]

i completely understand & agree with the backlash against students using chatgpt to get degrees but some of you are out here saying "getting a degree in xyz means pulling multiple consecutive all-nighters and writing essays through debilitating migraines and having severe back pain from constantly studying at your desk and chugging energy drinks until you get a kidney stone and waking up wishing you were dead every day, and that's just part of the natural process of learning!!!" and like. umm. i don't think that any of us should have had to endure that either. like maybe the solution for stopping students from using anti-learning software depends on college institutions making the process of learning actually sustainable on the human body & mind rather than a grueling health-destroying soul-crushing endeavor

[podcastwizard]

if you're in the throes of cosmic despair i cannot recommend museums enough. art or science or history it doesn't matter. oh we're all connected, all of us and everything, throughout all time and space, and no one, no one, no one is alone? awesome. that's what i thought i just wanted to make sure.

[stealingpotatoes]

i bring a "caesar's assassins mega-cringefailed if they were trying to get rid of tyranny and monarchies" vibe to the ides of march that literally nobody enjoys

[demonicsuffrage]

Bruce dropped out of medical school and as much as he tries to hide it, his kids all find out. Ofcourse they never let him live it down after that

Emo 21-year-old Bruce: You're not my father, Alfred!

Alfred: Quite right. I have a medical degree, and you don't.

Bruce:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick: Hey I'm dropping out of Gotham University

Bruce: What? You're quitting college halfway?! Unacceptable, you cannot just give up on your engineering degree-

Dick: I did not just hear the failed doctor say that

Bruce:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce, fuming: You left my side tonight to go and gallivant around with harley quinn? A villain?

Steph: So what if she's a villain, Bruce? Atleast the villain has a doctorate.

Bruce:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce, bandaging Duke's wound because Alfred was busy: There, all done

Duke: Woah, didn't expect that from a college dropout

Bruce:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce: Stop ignoring my orders in the field! You need to listen, I have more experience-

Jason, as red hood, with his PhD in English: Which one of us actually has a Dr in front of their name?

Bruce:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim: So I'm dropping out of high school

Bruce: You too?! First Dick and now you?!

Tim: No, first it was you, then Dick, and now me

Bruce:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce: Damian, your recent report card indicates you're falling behind in Biology

Damian: Tt. Must run in the family, then.

Bruce:

[meadow-soprano]

anyone on their period in the summer should be allowed to do whatever they want

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

hero/villain showdown but one of them has a spontaneous medical emergency and the battle gets put on hold while their archnemesis drives them to Urgent Care

[atalana]

but seriously i do find it so funny that ford was like OH GOD MY PRECIOUS REPUTATION after bill possessed him around other people for all of one night

and then he gets back to this dimension after thirty years and this is now the photo the press associates with his name