#and like. caring is a thing a person can be regardless of anything

[nithica]

but onto different topics. dividers for attention really (also bc I like pretty things)

there is something I want to say, or really, for my own well-being should talk about. I’ll also add this to my BYF anyway but just putting it out here.

I’m pretty open about having borderline, and as anyone who frequently reads my posts knows, I’m in therapy frequently and under supervision of a great team of professionals and as someone who is very self-aware, I’d also like to think that I minimise the damage my disorder brings to other people.

but other people doesn’t include myself, and so I’ve come to run into this on this blog more than once now, so it feels like it needs to be said. so as a boundary, frequent interactions = friends to me.

I have a lot of love in my heart, and coupled with BPD, I love hard and I love fast. I get attached very easily and as my friend called it (thank u btw, you know who you are <3), we are ready to give our hearts to you on a silver platter easily. for me, at least once I feel like someone is a nice person and is kind to me.

this isn’t the same for everyone and I respect that. I completely understand that for some people, being mutuals doesn’t mean being friends. I will always try to respect that as long as I know (aside from being really talkative. unfortunately that’s just my personality)

but for me, it’s not hard to consider someone my “friend”, and it’s not something I consider lightly either despite that. we don’t all have to be as close as besties but I consider myself to have a lot of friends, all whom I cherish and would always be at the ready for, regardless of how much we talk.

it’s ok if that is one-sided but I do ask of people, as much as you can, to be aware of how you speak to me. saying things like “I love you” or “you’re my fave” or anything of the sort are big statements that will, unfortunately, have me truly believe that you care about me and if you don’t mean it or it’s a short-living connection to you, the consequence it has for me is turning my episodes onto myself. please be very clear and forward in communicating with me. and if you don’t consider me a friend, that’s ok, but be open and upfront about it. don’t call me your friend if you don’t really consider me one.

I see details and patterns quickly and I unfortunately read a lot into things. I’m sorry for that! my disorder is no one’s responsibility but my own, but that’s why I feel like it’s my job to put this out here. I promise that I can be very rational and that I actually really appreciate forward honesty. it protects the both of us from misunderstandings.

thank you for listening if you read this all and I’ll put a concise version of this in my BYF lol.

[seveneyesoup]

episode was. fine. not sure why they set things up like the family ruby has is what matters and then also make a big deal out of her biological family. weird decision there but the stuff w coincidence and language and knots and rope. speaking my language there. definitely an approach to timeless child we’ll see how it shakes out tbh. also sideeying rtd a little bit over rubys mom. she’s only been in one episode and she’s shown to be not Necessarily a caring mother etc but still much closer to the mammy archetype than i would like

[skinreflectsthesun]

.

[s2pdoktopus]

Me, when my ocs who deprive themselves of their wants finally chooses something for themselves:

"My baby is growing up 🥹. Look at him choosing his basic human right. I'm so proud of you, son, it was a long time coming."

[no1ryomafan]

I hate going here to say takes that if I said anywhere else I’d be blown up on sight and this place has become a giant word salad anyways but yall I need to be so fucking fr about something: I genuinely do not understand the mindset of “you should try to get into things you know you aren’t gonna like” even though I KNOW this is gonna make me come off as picky but let me COOK RQ.

This mindset isn’t harmful or anything, I have no issue with people who do follow this themselves, what I have a problem with is when people enforce this onto others and not understand their personal preferences. I saw someone argue this is how you build taste and it’s true but also like- what if the person taste has already been defined cause growing up they tried lots of different media so they found out what they do and don’t like? So enforcing this makes it redundant if they simply KNOW what they’re into.

But also my bigger problem with this whole thing is when people INSISTS you finish a media you gave a chance and still didn’t like it so you drop it because either “it gets better” or people really think you need to go through something you don’t like in full and I’m sorry bro that’s genuinely fucking stupid. Forcing yourself to get through a media is just going to make you dislike it more where as dropping it puts you on decent terms with it-maybe one day you WILL want to go back, but if you don’t that’s okay-but also do yall just- not realize people don’t have the time for that shit? Like they can’t be bothered to consume media they don’t click with because of their personal lives and consuming media is the way they unwind? Cause that’s another big hole in this logic.

I really only personally would do this with something if it’s like I didn’t realize I liked it until I got far in but I’m so far in I should finish it or the media is short enough to justify me consuming it even if I won’t like it-i.e. a game that takes 3-5 hours to beat, a anime that is 13 eps or less, etc-or at the very least I’m consuming media with friends so even if I don’t like it I still have fun but otherwise? Why the fuck should I watch or play something I’m going to hate and waste time on that, I don’t understand otherwise.

[misterradio]

"The series will reportedly set Wilde’s 1891 tale of the impossibly beautiful Dorian amidst the contemporary beauty industry and will recast the main character and artist Basil Hallway as siblings."

you have to be kidding me you can't do this to oscar wilde. and you can't do this to me

[tariah23]

Oh brother

[shiryawashere]

you ever miss your comfort character so bad you gotta go outside about it

[ozymoron]

reading posts that come across my dash and sitting for a minute to debate with my mental disorder if not reblogging this will mean a hell portal will open beneath my feet and i will suffer for eternity for my lack of action or if its all good and i can just scroll on by (its usually the hell portal thing)

[unproduciblesmackdown]

going like what's the most bloodsong thing to do today (or any given day) like ooh i know letting loose on the kazoo. letting loose on being dead & dying

& like well yes but you know. cmere arm around shoulder i'm gonna just straightforwardly talk about what bloodsong is about. well of course it's about wringing your Truth Self Passion Feelings Whatever essential bloodstyle inspiration motivation into your deal. however you heard the black suits, where wringing yourself out & thus having to have that blood to wring out is perhaps not very sustainable. so great news b/c bloodsong of love is, like the black suits, also about how one sustains & is sustained by others & their deals like wow i'm all about what you're wringing & ppl being all about what you're wringing & just even what goes before & beyond any wringing at all to be, thus, sustaining, but where if you can't get your blood all over & into stuff at all ever then it's like well that's probably a problem. see also the villain isn't presented like oh Not a fellow musician or otherwise emphatically really separated / othered from our heroes & good guys, like well yeah he does just walk a road too, Is also a musician, just that the musician And Everyone is struggling with being vulnerable & in a hostile world & potentially fucked over at any time, & so our villain's quest is the impossible one to never be fucked over & by extension never be vulnerable, which theoretically includes having to bleed for anything figuratively, but of course he Is vulnerable & bleeds & wrings & has had to do so all along b/c he was ofc all along never invulnerable either....but you gotta do your thing, b/c you gotta do your thing, regardless of if you gain whatever success or reach whatever goals Through it & not be fucked over, and you certainly can't Know you will or won't. last on land, bloodfilled heart of the matter, everyone's there, penultimate song on album, transitions into the friendship song, ultimate song in bloodsong, did i mention the black suits where it was never about knowing they'll win, winning, knowing the future will bring any particular thing

[brightdeadthing]

.

[satocidal]

⋆·˚ ༘ *Geto Suguru is the other name for non-sexual-everyday-life-dominance...

I'm just a little smitten

A hand remains constantly placed at the small of your back, a fond smile as he leads you through the side-walk, it doesn't have to be crowded either, he just likes the feeling of holding you, caring for you - likes knowing that you lay enough trust in him to tune yourself out - likes knowing that around him you don't have to worry, around him you can allow yourself to linger gazes on articles in shop and pause a little too long until he tugs at you to continue moving.

Suguru will smother you too, every morning - you wake up to have him stroking your hair, fond eyes staring at you; every night you go to sleep with him drawing little circles, doodles, signing off his name at every inch of your skin he can manage, listening contentedly to your heavy breathing.

Never says no to anything - unless it tickles his "baby might get hurt" senses - naps? 3 in a day if you want, snuggled in his lap while he talks you through with each one, velvety voice that coos at you, not to forget the constant warmth he radiates.

Makes sure you finish every meal, one thing about him is that he loves having that sort of control and around him, you will love handing it over too - he takes care of everything. A balanced meal, your favourites cooked too, along with the right temperature of water; he just wants you to feel at ease and comfort<3

Nothing is too much for him. Will read you a book if that's what you want, massages? he'll pull that tension right out, remind you to start stretching with him - laugh when you groan and kiss you too. Overworking yourself? will pluck you right out of your desk and hop you in his lap till you're relaxed, talk about every irrelevant thing in the world till you're at ease.

Always has to have an arm around your waist - not to prove anything - he just likes having you curled around him, his fingers digging in your waist if need be, doesn't get jealous, in fact loves it when others try on you - loves to see you shut them down, loves to kiss your cheek while stalking that person walk away.

But let's not forget, Suguru also shuts down attitude that quickly. Does not tolerate any disrespect - doesn't get 'angry', he does get quieter, his smiles get thinner and eyes narrow and twitch with every insult you throw. Mutters just a little "sit back down" or "excuse me?" and that has you reeling.

Never says no to horror movies if you want to watch but holds you close regardless, a knowing smile waiting for you to cling onto him as the scenes get scarier, whispers little teasing jokes in your ear to provide any form of comfort (loves seeing your face shoved into his chest)

overall, 10/10 experience.

[meowdei]

Sukuna who was never close to his twin brother and never cared about the pipsqueak runt of a kid who’s his nephew.

He doesn’t care and doesn’t want to be associated with that bullshit. His brother doesn’t take the hint ever and invites him to everything. “My sons’s birthday party” this and “my son’s kindergarten graduation” that. What sort of graduation is meant for a kindergartener anyway? That’s a load of nonsense. But Jin is as annoying as ever with insisting on keeping contact and trying to get Sukuna involved and he hates it until by some tragedy out of nowhere, his brother and sister and law are dead. Yuuji’s left an orphan and no one can care for that kid because there’s no one left.

No one except Sukuna.

They ask him, too. The social workers. They turn to him and say some pitiful script about being “the only family left to take custody of him.” He knows pretty well what’s going to happen to the pipsqueak if he doesn’t agree. The foster care system and the possible horrors such a bright (even if annoying) kid could face makes him question saying no for a second. He’s surprisingly conflicted.

And it’s out of sheer impulsiveness alone does he end up as a single, grumpy, begrudging uncle who’s got custody of a child he never really cared to know in the first place.

And then he meets you.

Sweet, bubbly, warm, and so weirdly happy. Dictionary definition of what an elementary school teacher should be. Yuuji’s absolute favorite person on the planet as he waves hello at you enthusiastically every time that Sukuna drops him off and goodbye every time that Sukuna picks him up.

“I heard his new guardian would be his uncle. It’s nice to meet you,” you murmur to him the first day he picks up Yuuji after school, a look of pure melancholy on your face as you stare at him with an unearthly amount of compassion and sympathy. “Yuuji’s parents were wonderful people. I’m really sorry for your loss.”

“Wasn’t that close with either of them,” he grunts out. You look over at where Yuuji’s gleefully playing on the slide of the playground. Too young and innocent to realize that’s been ripped away from him. Too naive to understand what it means to grieve. Too hopeful about the world around him to realize just how cruel it can really be.

“Oh,” you murmur, nodding slowly.

He thinks that your unnaturally kind demeanor will finally be broken for a split second of judgement. What sort of heartless bastard doesn’t feel an ounce of grief for his own brother’s death? Instead, however, you seem to look at him with some weird sense of wonder.

“You’re a good uncle for stepping up regardless,” you say softly, “it’s more than what most would do in your shoes.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he clicks his teeth, unbearably uncomfortable with how weirdly sentimental this all is. “He’s just a five year old. How much trouble could he be?”

You raise a brow in amusement, eyeing him like he’s got one hell of a surprise waiting for him. He doesn’t like the vague way you hum, “Yeah. How could such a little human cause trouble, right?”

“I’ve got it under control,” he grumbles, a little annoyed that you seem to think that out of all things, a simple child would be enough to cause Sukuna any issues.

“Let me know if you need anything,” you smile.

Yuuji calls to you from the distance, squealing look what I can do! before he does a rather clumsy spin. Sukuna raises an unimpressed brow. You clap and praise him with an exaggerated gasp of approval.

It’s oddly endearing, he thinks to himself—you, not the kid. The kid’s barely tolerable.

“C’mon, you brat,” Sukuna calls. And then he looks at you and gruffly adds, “And I don’t need help.”

“Okay,” you grin brightly. It almost feels like you’re saying that a little sarcastically. “I’m sure you’ve got this parent thing down.”

Before he can even correct you that he’s an uncle, not parent, Yuuji comes running over on clumsy, short little legs and grabs onto Sukuna’s hand.

“C’mon, Uncle ‘Kuna!”

Sukuna doesn’t miss the way your eyes soften. Weirdly enough, he feels this odd sort of squeeze in his chest that doesn’t make any sense. Maybe he’s just getting old—that has to be it.

[slimyenemy]

hey it's not just confused it also feels like you'd be upset with me pretty much either way

[ryker-writes]

Hi hi dragged out of the void because I’ve been obsessed again thanks to book seven. Had this idea late at night based off a thing I do to people I really like and appreciate! (If people want different characters lemme know)

Can be seen as romantic or platonic

Request rules and Masterlists

Giving them a rock (Diasomnia)

Malleus:

This might actually be some sort of fae proposal now that I think about it…

But that’s a story for another day (if people want)

Setting aside the fact that he might take it as you asking him for marriage, Malleus would love the gift!

He’d love just about any gift you give him, but a rock? Even if it’s just a simple rock he loves it like its the best gift he’s ever gotten

He may be a bit confused at first and ask if this is a human gifting ritual or symbol he doesn’t know about

He keeps it on him at all times

The rock and roaring drago are some of his most prized possessions

His dragon instinct and care for you makes him want to keep the rock with him at all costs

If anything were to happen to it, either someone takes it, jokes about it, or he loses it, there will be a massive storm with thunder and lightning

If it’s either of the first two with someone taking it or joking about it…they might get struck by the lightning (he’ll say it wasn’t intentional but have that smile on his face that tells you it was absolutely intentional)

He might even put a protection spell on it to keep it safe or prevent/curse whoever takes it from him

He might also give you a rock in return someday, but it’s probably the most expensive gem you’ll ever have

Because according to him, he wanted to find a gem that was befitting to someone as precious to him, and nothing less than the highest quality would suffice for you

He won’t even let Silver or Sebek hold it

Maybe Lilia, but he’s hovering the entire time to ensure nothing happens

To Malleus, the rock is a precious gift that symbolizes just how much you care for and trust him, and he would never let that trust be displaced

He also brags to people that you gave him a rock

Lilia:

He laughs

Not in a hostile way or anything, but hes very amused that out of all the things you could give him, it’s a rock

That being said, he does like and accept the gift!

Lilia has traveled the world and seen many things, but he’s not too familiar with the idea of gifting rocks to others in a context outside proposing with gems or jewelry

His room is cluttered and a mess, but he keeps the rock you gave him safe on his nightstand so he doesn’t lose it

Over the years, he’s collected many things and items that remind him of people he’s met, loved, and has seen pass, and he keeps these items safe and serve as mementos of them and the memories that he’s shared with them

To him, the rock is the same thing for you

Every time he sees the rock, he’s reminded of you and how much you mean to him

He’d be pretty understanding of the sentiment behind the rock, and would try to find something to express the same towards you!

You may end up with a rock yourself, a small trinket he thinks you’ll like, or an item from his personal belongings

His gifts won’t be as grand or expensive as Malleus’ gifts, but they’re more personally picked to suit what he thinks you may like

If he got you a rock, it’d be from a distant land and with some of your favorite colors

Lilia would flip his entire room upside down if he ever lost it

It would look like a tornado went through his room and knocked everything around. He’d even have Silver and Sebek help him in his search, telling them it’s a mission of dire importance

The group would search for hours and hours trying to find the rock

Only for him to realize he put it in his pocket for the day because he wanted to show Kalim and Cater…

Silver:

He’s a little confused, but pretty open and appreciative overall!

He might ask if you’re part crow fae or something

Regardless, he expresses his thanks, and keeps the rock with him

But he does worry about what might happen to it when he falls asleep, so he asks you or Lilia if you can help him put it on a necklace or bracelet of sorts

So he always has it on him

Sometimes as he’s falling asleep, his hand unconsciously moves up and holds onto the rock

You’ll find him peacefully sleeping, rock in hand, and a smile on his face as he dreams

Silver doesn’t feel like he needs to give you something in return, and hopes you’ll be able to know he cares the same way without the gift of a rock

That being said, if he happens to come across a rock that he thinks is pretty or reminds him of you, he’ll grab it as a gift for you later

People can comment on it or joke about a rock being a gift, and he won’t pay any mind to them whatsoever

He knows the rock is an expression of how your care, and he treasures it, so why should he care if others can’t see it?

He would try and explain to people what it means, but if they aren’t going to understand then it isn’t worth explaining to them

In a way, he thinks of it as a good luck charm, and keeps it on him even when training or doing club activities

He’d feel absolutely terrible if he ever lost it, and would spend a good amount of time searching the campus for where he might’ve put it

If he’s unable to find it, he’d come to you and apologize deeply, but in all reality, it probably fell off in one of his napping spots or in his room and he happened to miss seeing it

Sebek:

The height of fae confusion

At first, he isn’t sure if it’s some sort of insult or if he’s supposed to use the rock for something specific

After you explain the rock and why you gave it to him, he huffs and acts like it’s not a big deal

But then he proceeds to flaunt to literally everyone that he received a rock as a token from you

The first day you give it to him, any person he runs into that happens to notice he’s carrying a rock around with him will receive a long explanation of how the human gave him this rock as a token of care and it’s a valuable treasure that they can’t even comprehend

He wouldn’t dare bring it to training or club activities in fear of losing it, but he does protect it like it’s a precious treasure that belongs in a museum

No one can touch it but him, you, Malleus, and Lilia

Maybe Silver if he needs it to be kept safe while he does something

Sebek isn’t too big on giving gifts, so he might not give one back to you unless prompted by Lilia, Malleus, or Silver

If they do, he isn’t quite sure how to express the sentiment behind the rock, or find a good enough rock

He’s trying, but just about no rock lives up to the standards he has for a rock to give you

It’s gonna be a long long time before he’s able to find a rock he thinks is fitting enough…

[kenyummy]

✰ 06. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 06. take a bite.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: hi lovelies!!! unmmmmm its been a very hot minute. sorry!!!! my job and uni prep have taken me hostage not to mention math exams woooowweee. im gonna try and be more active now and post a bit more, so hopefully look forward to that!!! also ill answer any asks asap 💞💞 ily all ok muah

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

You think you mayyy have gotten ahead of yourself. A very slim maybe.

Sure, all these things probably needed to be said at some point, but jeez, you'd never met the guy before. You could've given it at least a day or two. Now, you're stuck in this situation. Cringing at yourself in the mirror, holding back from slamming your head against the mirror to rid yourself of these crippling memories.

Your eyebags—they speak for themselves—and your expression is anything but pleasant.

Last night was awkward. Awkward can't even begin to describe it, actually. It was excruciatingly awful, looking back on it. You have no idea what he is or was thinking, ir even how he acted outside of those diary entries. Maybe these assumptions were wrong. Maybe you were biting off more than you could chew.

(But it was hard to think this way when his expression; his words, they seemed to resonate with it so deeply).

Regardless, you can't dwell on this forever. You have a mission to do. Mission being; not failing school and incurring the wrath of your father. And getting back home. But that was a given.

You barely feel like yourself. You don't even look like you. This house isn't yours, nor are these clothes. The scent you spray onto your body isn't familiar, and even the shampoo on your nightstand is tacky and strange feeling.

All this time, you had never felt this lost. You may not be alone, but in this giant mansion, away from all your friends—you may as well be.

Your siblings were strange and unlikeable to you. You had barely even seen your father since you'd gotten here. Alfred was the only person you seemed to be able to even have a semblance of a normal conversation with. The knowledge is daunting, but not painful. You don't care.

It's all temporary, anyway.

... You hope. But knowing Reed, you'll be back before you can say, Hello, New York.

In a math class you've already done a year ago, you find yourself beginning to doze off with these thoughts plaguing the forefront of your mind. Cheek squished upwards in your hands, you aren't worried.

Your spidey sense is really handy; your head will tingle with that familiar static when the teacher's suspicions grow to large and you've already done your work, anyway.

But Harry doesn't seem to be doing so hot, you note when your eyes snap open and your pen finds a home in the dips of your fingers. As the teacher walks past your seat, you glance back at Harry's spot. Away from you, and on purpose, for sure. (At least, knowing you and your Harry—the amount of mischief whispered behind your hands was impalpable and certainly not appreciated by your teacher.)

He looks distressed by the worksheet in front of him, and small bits of laughter rumble from your chest. You feel gleeful, the best you'd felt from this crummy morning.

Those blue eyes meet yours and are practically screaming for help, to which you have to hide your smile behind a hand. The girl beside you shoots you a confused look, but nevertheless focuses on the math in front of her.

He mouths, Help me. It's a bit difficult the sound the rest out, but you think it's a mix of, This is impossible and I can't do this anymore.

Without much else of a clue on what you could possibly do to help him with that dictator of a math teacher around, you shrug your shoulders.

I'll help you out at lunch, you wordlessly mouth to him back, making a small heart with your index finger and thumb to go along with a sly wink. A teasing gesture, something you'd find yourself doing with your own best friend back home. Nothing more, nothing less.

His cheeks flush with a bright red before he chuckles to himself, lowering his head as if you couldn't still see that he was grinning stupidly to himself. Hand resting at the back of his slim neck and pen limp in his hand, not even pretending like he was actually doing something.

The reality dawns on you again and you turn away.

Once again, your stomach sinks. Not at him. Not at the prospect he thought you were flirting. Just at how, even for a second, you were unable to forget that this was not your home.

Once again, you feel lost in your own skin and nothing about you seems to sit just right.

... Even through your years of crime fighting, even through the hate and backlash from the public, even when a Skrull had stolen your face and you had looked yourself dead in the eye—not once have you felt as estranged as you have now.

"I hate teen drama." MJ moans dramatically, draping her arms on your shoulders and slumping, putting all her body weight onto you and you find yourself having to cling to her shoulders to keep her upright. If you didn't have that enhanced strength, you think you'd fall right down with her.

Harry slams his locker door shut and shoots her an amused look, "What happened now? That guy you were talking to ended up having a girlfriend after all?"

"Even worse." She tilts her head up to look at him from where it still lay against your shoulder, cheek smushing against the fabric of your shirt, "His ex is cuckoo. Like seriously,"

She spin her index finger around her head and then knocks against it with a closed fist. "There's something up with her. She hasn't stopped glaring at me since third period. I think she actually wants to kill me."

"That makes two of us," you speak, pushing her up so that it doesn't look like she's trying to fuse into you Steven Universe style.

She crosses her arms and frowns, red brows narrowing down at you, "I'm serious! What are you gonna do if I die? You can't take the comedic relief out of an already-established trio."

"You think you're the comedic relief?" Harry asks, genuinely surprised. MJ doesn't seem to take this too kindly—understandably.

You'd say you're pretty funny. Or your version of yourself, that is... this you. You aren't sure about the other you. Seemed pretty glum, but you digress. You'd be mad at the world if you were born here too, as harsh as that sounds.

Students pour out around you and you hear the bell chime around you. The day is over, as fast as it began. Too bad. You almost found yourself enjoying school.

Because at least that meant you didn't have to go back home, a place where you felt the least like yourself than anywhere.

"[name]?"

A hand waving itself in front of your face makes you blink back to reality, staring up at its owner. Harry looks concerned, an expression you think you've been seeing a lot of on his face and it's ridiculously defined cheekbones lately. "Are you okay? You spaced out again."

Again? Has this been happening lately? You hadn't even realised. Even your base instincts, your enhanced senses, hadn't even snapped you out of it.

"I'm okay. Sorry. Just uh..." You press your lips tightly together, gaze lowering. "Having some trouble at home."

You say, and you really don't want to elaborate.

"Is it with your brothers again?" MJ speaks softly, quietly, even though there's barely anybody left in the hallways after school hours. Your eyes widen a tad. You're sure you'd never told them anything, and you guessed this original you wasn't too keen on sharing their personal life either, so...

"How...?"

"They're not exactly subtle in sending you to the poor school then never bothering to pick you up in one of their fancy cars." MJ rolls her eyes. "You literally take the public bus home. Bruce Wayne's kid. It doesn't really take a genius to figure it out."

You chew down on your lip. They're right. It's not as subtle as you thought. A strong pair of arms wrap around you and your face heats up when your chin digs into Harry's woollen sweater.

"[name], we don't care. Their loss. You don't need them, you have us. Always, no matter what."

... Does he think you're upset about this? Embarrassed? Really, you aren't. But the gesture is sweet and you really do love your friends, so you don't hesitate to hug him right back.

"Thanks," you murmur, eyes not meeting his as MJ places a soft hand on your shoulder. Maybe you should be sad? It's a bit unnatural to appear so stoic when you talk about something like this, no? "But it's fine. It doesn't bother me anymore. You're right. I have you guys, and you two are more than enough."

"Since when did you get so good with words?" MJ slyly eyes you up and down, thoroughly amused. "You know, the old you would've just told us it's nothing and everything's okay. What happened?"

A smile forms across your lips. This time—a real one. "I guess I just had an epiphany. Not even my ego's more important to me than you guys."

My family.

You walk out through the gates laughing. A few other students still surround the building and even fewer walk out behind you and your friends—probably those bothered enough to take up after school tutoring programs and clubs and anything of the sort.

The ones that linger at the gate are frantically texting on their phones—probably spamming their parents to hurry and pick them up, because it was starting to get cold again. The clouds fog up the clear sky and blocks the sunlight from hitting the ground, so the world around you is dim as well. Not a good look for Gotham.

"We're so gonna get jumped." MJ blurts out, gripping the straps of her bag tightly. "Me and [name], I mean. You're totally safe, Harry. You and that driver of yours. Tell him I said hi, by the way."

"You're throwing shade now? I told you both you're welcome to drive with us if you want to."

You shake your head, no matter how much MJ's eyes brighten. "You live all the way on the other side of Gotham. We don't want to bother you. We all know how your dad gets when you slack on your homework."

Harry hums, "Yeah, but he likes you both, so it cancels out."

"Norman likes me?" MJ looks positively flabbergasted at this news, as if she hadn't even considered it before. "He always gives me the strangest smiles. I thought he secretly wanted me out of your life."

"Trust me, if he wanted you out, he wouldn't keep it a secret." Harry sighs, exasperated. "Actually, he respects you a bunch. He's seen you on TV a few times with your reporting work experience. Dad thinks you're the kind of reporter this city actually needs."

MJ places a hand over her heart, as if it were suddenly warmed by this strange act of kindness showed by The Normal Osborn.

A loud rev grabs all of your attention before you can even think of what to ask next. Whether Norman liked you, or even superheroes in general. Whether the Green Goblin was even a thing. So many questions, and such little time.

You turn to where the obnoxious bike noise came from, and your blood runs cold. All warning signals in your head go off and you can't help but instinctively ball up your fists.

Your (?) brother. Jason. He sits atop a stationary motorcycle, a strange smile atop his lips and a black helmet snug under his bicep. He's wearing a black biker outfit you'd never once ever imagine would exist in real life and MJ is literally gawking.

His eyes seem to have caught yours before you'd even noticed he were there. Now, when you're staring at him in such dumb looking shock—he gestures toward you, "C'mon. I'm takin' you home today."

"Wh... what...?" You splutter, fingers digging into the toughness of your palm. "Why? Nobody said anything about..."

Jason swings his leg over the seat of the motorcycle and adjusts his rear view mirror absent-mindedly, "Spur of the moment. I wanted to spend more time with you."

Harry and MJ, from beside you, coo quietly at you, teasingly. Despite your love for your friends, you really wished they could see the dread slowly seeping into your skin.

You feel like you're on your last leg when you conjure up the lamest excuse you could possibly come up with. "... I don't have a helmet. It's not safe."

"You're with me. You think I'll let anything happen while I'm here?" His words are sweet, like those of a regular elder brother. Normal sounding, to your friends who give you a small nudge to your side.

But you know better. You've seen him covered in sticky crimson blood and you've seen the shiny metal of the mask that covers his face.

You know that his words aren't as sweet as they are a promise. A promise you're entirely sure he is willing to uphold and keep at any means.

... But what can you say? Nothing that won't give away his identity, or even your entire family's. You're left in a corner, with nowhere to go but forward. Right into the lion's den.

Taking his hand feels more like a sort of demonic deal with the devil than it probably should've. Still, his gloved fingers wrap around your own, carefully and practised, with all the warmth of a human and all the delicacy of an older brother.

He slips his helmet on as you settle behind him on the seat, tentatively holding him so you don't go flying back. "Hold on tight. You're not gonna fall, trust me."

You know you won't, and even if you do, you'll be fine. Still, when he revvs up the engine and drives off into the cool Gotham air, you feel a strange hardness of your limbs start to build.

The wind bites at your cheeks as he revvs his bike up. Your arms are wrapped snugly around his waist, leather feeling rough under your fingertips. Despite the physical need to hang onto him so you don't go tumbling off the seat, you find yourself wanting to put as much physical distance between you and Jason as possible.

Your head is awkwardly bent back so it isn't squished against his back, and you have a feeling he's a bit miffed about this fact. That you're still so unwilling to be beside him. But that's just your guess. You'll never know what he's thinking with that helmet blocking out each expression and his head facing straight to the road.

Even with this concentration, he still decides to speak. "Didn't know you were still friends with that guy. Harvey?"

"Harry," you correct him, though you aren't sure why.

"Yeah. Harry. That rich kid who gave up the exhilarating life of Gotham Prep to go to school with you." Jason's tone is light, and he doesn't seem to be too serious with his words. He's trying to make conversation, and it's strange, because you can tell he isn't really sure on how to do it. "I always thought he was good for you. He hasn't got a stick up his ass like the rest of those snobs at Bruce's galas."

"At least you approve of him," you say quietly. Barely even hearing yourself over the sound of the wind hitting your ears.

"That's more than you can say for a lot of those other brats you used to hang out with, you know." He almost sounds amused, despite how dead your tone was. "Hated all of them. These two ain't bad."

You wonder what those so-called brats were like. Other rich children all couped up together for the sole fact they're all born from wealth? Jason not liking them didn't really discern much about them to you, because you got the impression Jason didn't like many people.

You had the impression Jason didn't like you. But looking at your situation now, you couldn't be furthur from the truth, it seemed.

Silence fills the space between you both for a bit. Driving down the busy highways into darkening skies, as the clouds start to grey and the sun waves its last goodbye. When there no longer lay any witness but the moon itself, watching over the crime-riddled streets of Gotham, where you, somehow, were taken away from without a second thought.

Red fills the sky. Red, like Jason's helmet—not currently being worn, but an image you could never really remove from your head when you'd look at him.

Red, like your suit. Red, like the blood flowing through your veins. It colours the ground above you and will eventually turn into an array of violet hues. That's how it all concludes, in the end.

Jason takes a turn off the busy street and it goes quiet. He slows down a bit to match the speed limit—which feels strangely out of character for him, but you digress. He takes this opportunity to finally have his voice be heard above the onomatopoeia of cars and angry honks of the drivers within them.

"... This is nice. Never picked you up from school like this, huh?" Despite not being able to see him from where you sit behind his back—you can practically feel his smile. "We should do this more. How do you even get home usually, anyway? Alfred never goes around these parts."

... You debate on telling him or not, but assume it doesn't matter whether you do or not in the end. If he wants he know, he'll just find out. No use in delaying the inevitable. "I take the public bus."

If he could stop in the middle of driving, he would. Even if he was driving, without a car behind him, you're sure he'd brake abruptly and send you flying off the bike. His hand twitches around the handle and panic is sent flaring through your nerves like electricity. "What? You actually go on that shit?"

You know he probably didn't mean for it to sound the way it did, but you're annoyed nonetheless. "Well, not like I had much of a choice. Would you rather me walk the way?"

His lack of a response tells you all you need to know. You aren't keen on continuing this conversation, so for now, it's just silence.

Slipping off the motorcycle, you shake the wind out of your hair and brush down your clothes. Jason barely even looks at you as he places his helmet on the table beside the front door and slips the keys into his jacket pocket.

"Thanks for driving me." Despite your... complicated feelings towards him and the rest of your family, you are a polite person. Your aunt had always raised you right like this. "But you don't have to worry about doing something like this again... I'm fine taking the bus."

You say, with all the subtlety of a man dying of thirst. Practically yelling for him to just leave you the fuck alone. At least putting it in a mildly kind way.

He hums, expression unreadable to you. Then, he smiles. A stark change in his features from when you'd first gotten a glimpse of that contempt face. When you'd first saw him. "Don't be so humble, okay? I'll take you home every day from now on. Even if there's crime, I'll finish it up quick and we can ride home together. Just you, and me. With your big brother. That's fine, right?"

... You didn't realise when he had started moving closer to you while speaking, but now he was standing right in front of you, a hand on your shoulder and a dangerous glint in his eye (that, yoy aren't sure even registers to him at all).

Your brain buzzes with static sirens. Warning. Yelling for you to run away, move, fight him, do anything except stand there frozen like a deer in headlights. Fingers twitching with the urge to punch, claw get away—but you don't.

You grip the sides of your shirt, knuckles feeling weak under the pressure. No longer can you force the words you want to say out of your mouth. "... You don't have to bother. I'm serious."

He smiles. "Alright. I have some errands to run. Wasn't supposed to be here today, anyway." Changing his biker helm out for his signature red one, he pats your shoulder a few times before walking past you. "Goodnight, [name]. Don't stay up too late, yeah? Study for that test you got."

You can't even begin to question how he knows you have a test coming up when you're sure you'd never told him, when the thought pops up in your head that no, he absolutely did not listen to you. And yes, he absolutely will continue to keep waiting outside your school for you to drive you home with uncomfortable conversation.

You almost fall over in the hall's entrance when Jason shuts the front door behind him. You shove your face into your hands, squeezing your eyes shut and willing the memories of that drive into the back of your mind, where you wouldn't have to think about it.

But... he is right. You do have that test, and that simple fact is the reason why you pick yourself up, just as Spidey does, and decide to go to your room. Down the first living room, into the kitchen and dining room, and past—

"W—whoa!"

You're going to cry. You genuinely might start bawling. After that godawful moment, you've now crashed straight into a fucking brick wall. A moving one, at that. ... But it can't be just brick, because you think your nose is starting to bleed from the impact (if the warmth dripping down your chin is anything to go by), and you've slammed head first into concrete before with no reaction.

Just what the hell is—

"Shit!" A guy's voice curses. Unfamiliar, different from anything you'd heard here in this house before. When you crack open your eyelids, you see... Shaggy black hair, a very strange style of clothes, and the brightest blue of eyes you'd ever seen. "Shit, I'm so sorry! I should've looked where I was going—"

"Kon? What—"

Tim's face pops up from behind him just as you stand up on your own two feet, and the look on his face is something you can't even begin to describe. As soon as he gets an eyeful of you, and sees the trail of red seeping slowly from your nose down to your chin—where it drops down to the floorboards below—his entire demeanour shifts.

Subtly, but not subtle enough. At least, not to you. You don't think this Kon notices it.

"What happened here? What did you do to my sibling?"

Kon raises his hands in defence, eyes widening, "I'm so sorry, I didn't look where I was going, and—"

"Are you serious?!" Tim's brows furrow deeply and he almost growls like a damn dog as he sneers, "You hurt my sister, and all you can say is that you didn't look where you were going? Don't be stupid, Kon!"

"Look, I'm really sorry—it was an accident. Why are you getting so worked up—"

"You made her nose fucking bleed, dumbass! You know she's not like the rest of us! I told you to be careful around her, and look what you've done!"

Before Tim can tweak out even worse, you speak up, in the most monotone voice you can manage. "I'm okay. Don't worry. I'll just go clean it up."

The two boys look to you in shock, seeing a tissue already shoved up your nose and your face clean of any bloodstains. Void of anything except the drip of red on your shirt.

"But... But—" Tim's tone wavers a little as he steps closer, "What if it's broken? I'll help you—"

You hold your hand out, stopping him in his tracks as it collides with his chest. Shaking your head, you clench your jaw to try and alleviate the throbbing pain. "It's not broken. It's just injured. I'm okay."

The boy with piercings—Kon—he presses his fingers into his palm from his face behind Tim, looking rather guilty. "Sorry, um... Kon. I didn't look where I was going, either. That's my bad."

That name sounds strange to say in your mouth, and Kon himself seems surprised to hear you say it. "No, no, it was my bad. I'm so sorry, [name]."

His expression and words were genuine, enough so that your head starts to clear from its panic and you feel a sense of calmness finally wash over you.

But, your fingers still twitch when Tim gives you a forlorn look of almost longing.

You don't say another word, rushing past them snd going to your room—where you could bury your face into your pillow and pretend like none of this existed. Where you could climb out the window, suit clinging to your frame, and become the you that you'd always loved most.

The one who was free, swinging through the skies and cutting the wind like it meant nothing to you. The you that only ever felt like the real one.

And even if just for a moment, you could believe that this was your only you.

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