#i just want my brain to pick what it wants

[lotus-lost-n-found]

Some Batfam Headcanons because the brain never stops;

Jason hates being called "Bruce's Son". But he hates it more when hes called "One of Wayne's Orphans/Wayne's child" because fuck you I'm his son-! wait no--

With the exception of Damian, they rarely refer to Bruce as "Dad/Father". Either it didn't occur to them/didn't see the need to/thought it would be strange. But when Dick/Jason/Tim/Cass are tired or injured it might slip out. And Bruce might just crumble a bit at it

Doesn't mean they don't say it to their siblings when Bruce is out of Earshot.

"Dad said you couldn't." "What do you mean Dad said I couldn't use that mug? It's my mug!" "You snooze you lose Timmy Boy-" "Jason don't be an asshole-"

That being said Bruce says "son/daughter/child" at every available opportunity he can after he knows that they have acclimated enough that they wouldn't be uncomfortable/know they can tell Bruce that they don't want to be called that.

First time Bruce called Dick "son" in a way that meant "You are my kid" and not in a "This police officer just called me son with a brow furrow" way Dick grinned and carried on with the conversation. Later he wondered if his dad wouldn't like someone else calling him Son; but Dick thinks about the life he was given because of Bruce and thinks maybe his dad wouldn't mind.

Calling Jason "son" is a hit or miss situation, even before he died. The first time it happened he was confused, he didnt think that was the relationship they had and it made everything change for him. He got frustrated--not angry--with himself and Bruce at this sudden emotional turmoil. Wasn't he just the kid Bruce picked up in an alleyway? Wasn't he just some street rat in bright Robin clothing? (He lets himself believe that he can be Bruce's son. If for only a little while).

Tim cries after Bruce is out of earshot, it would've been a year or so after his parents died and he was adopted. He didn't think he could have been wanted like that again. Even if you think the Drake's had A+ Parenting or not, I don't think he would have gotten a lot of confirmation of being wanted otherwise.

Cass smiles, emotions carefully concealed under her expression. She's grateful she found Bruce and he doesn't mention it if she leans a bit closer in a request for closeness.

Damian doesn't expect anything less, he only appears satisfied. But also relieved that he has gotten the confirmation that yes, Bruce wants and accepts him.

[msmk11]

Everything to Everyone

James Potter x fem!reader

WC: tbh I don’t know, I just raw-dogged this in the app

CW: ANGST, HURT-COMFORT, panic attack, r is very sad and doesn’t take care of herself

Summary: you can’t keep doing this

A/n: Don’t know what this is; might be garbage; but this is just a reflection of my brain and my desperate need for someone like to james to comfort me rn; I need to be someone’s everything 😭

<>

It’s all too much, trying to be everything for everyone all of the time. It consumes you- the need to help others, to serve them in any way possible. To be their shoulder to cry on. The arms to hold them. The voice cheering them on. The hands to build them castles in the sky.

Perhaps it’s founded in your insatiable hunger to be well-liked, loved even.

Maybe it’s rooted in your fear that everyone will leave you, and that maybe maybe, if you try hard enough, they won’t.

Regardless of its cause, your involuntary obligation to others has pushed you to the edge, leaving you broken and exhausted. You want to cry out for help, for someone to notice, but they don’t. It’s not their fault. You know it isn’t. They can’t read your mind for goodness sake. But still, you wish they’d notice. To stop and think about you for a moment.

Today is no different, your list of promises to others longer than the one to yourself. Although it’s a Saturday, your day is jam packed with plans. First, you’ve promised Peter that you’ll make a quick trip with him to Hogsmeade this morning to pick up fire whiskey for the party tonight. After that you’re due for tea with Mary at Madame Pudifoots before you have to rush back to Hogwarts to meet Remus and Lily for a study session in the library. And fuck- at some point you’ll have to stitch up a hole in Marlene’s jersey and braid Sirius’ hair for the game. And the game. You’ve promised James, your lovely boyfriend and captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team, that you’ll be there. He needs his “lucky charm.”

You’re down in the common room at 10 on the nose, sleep still heavy on your eyes despite the time. Peter ambles down the stairs a few minutes later, his big jacket wrapped tightly around him.

The cold air outside is bitter on your nose and burns your cheeks. You bundle your face further into the collar of your coat and wish you would’ve worn a scarf. As you walk, Peter yaps on to you about the girl from his Divination class that he has a crush on. You’re enthusiastic that he has a crush, and that he feels comfortable enough to share it with you, but your heart hangs heavy in your chest regardless. You can’t quite muster up the genuine smile you usually give to everyone, and instead settle for a dim but encouraging one.

After you triple check that Peter can carry all of the fire whiskey back to the castle, you trudge across the way to Madame Pudifoots. Mary is already nestled into a corner when you arrive and she waves brightly at you. While the warmth of the shop and your friend is welcome, the thick perfume in the air and the sweet array of biscuits and cookies makes your head ache and stomach churn. Much like Peter, the brunette does most of the talking, catching you up on gossip around the castle. You give a lot of dramatic gasps, wide eyes, and giggles, but they’re as fake as the flowers on the table before you.

By the time you arrive to the library with what feels like a whole ton of books slung over your shoulder, you think you could drop dead from exhaustion. You find Lily and Remus in a heated discussion about some charms theory and wonder if they’d even notice if you slipped out. Of course, Lily catches your eye in the next second and waves you over. She quickly brings you into the debate, and you give the redhead your two cents. Your opinion, it seems, sets off a whole other conversation. Luckily, this time, you can just tune them out, instead focusing on the words of the book before you. Although now that you’re looking at it, all of the words seem to be swimming together in a blurry mess. And, is that a wet spot on the page? Are you crying? You reach up and, sure enough, another hot tear trails down your face. Panicked, you bend down under the guise of tying your shoe and wipe them away quickly. Remus and Lily can’t see you crack. They can’t.

You know that it’s all really getting to you when Sirius lets out more than one yelp as you do his hair. He complains that you’re going to pull it all out, and perhaps he isn’t wrong. You loosen your grip slightly but wince when you brush over one of the fresh cuts on your hands from sewing up Marlene’s jersey. The bandaid covers the cut, but doesn’t dull the slight throbbing pain in your palm. The pain and Sirius’ whining makes you want to yell at him and tell him to do it himself. But you don’t, and instead stay quiet. When his hair is finished, you peck his forehead in apology and boost his vanity.

“Oi, Black! Trying to steal my girl, are you?”

You nearly start bawling on the spot at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. Relief and calm wash over you as you feel his strong arms wrap around you. Instinctively, you lean back into his chest and sigh, closing your eyes.

You’re certain that Sirius and James are bantering back and forth some more but you tune them out in favor of enjoying the vibrations of your boyfriend’s voice through his chest. It’s pleasant enough that you think you could fall asleep.

You’re only startled out of your stupor when James’ soft lips press gentle kisses to each of your eyelids. Your eyes flutter open and you smile at him softly.

“Hi angel,” he greets, pecking your lips.

You return the kiss eagerly and James chuckles.

“Ready for the game tonight?”

You’d forgotten about the game momentarily, but now it comes rushing back. The thought of having to do anything else besides just lay in your boyfriend’s arms makes you want to cry. You swallow the lump in your throat, “of course, Jamie. And I’ll have your jersey on like usual.”

He gives you another quick peck, “my lucky charm.”

And then he’s moving away from you, far too fast for your taste, and you nearly whine. He collects his water and broom and turns back to you with a grin.

“See you at the game, love.”

You only whisper out a goodbye before he’s gone.

The game has been going on for far too long and you’re beginning to lose all feeling in your extremities. Like usual, James is playing great. And you’re proud of him, you really are. But you don’t want to be here anymore. You just want to lay in your bed and close off the world, rotting away in a puddle of self-induced misery.

But this fact in itself makes you feel worse than you already do. The guilt of it all- of being fake, insecure, and unsupportive- is eating you alive. Your friends deserve better. James deserves better.

It’s too much, too much, too much. And you feel like you’re suffocating.

So you’re beyond relieved when Gryffindor catches the snitch and you can leave. Though you normally stay to congratulate James, you don’t have it in you to do it. You figure you’ll see him later, so you rush back to the castle, trying to escape the notice of your friends.

While your bed calls to you most, living in a dorm doesn’t promise any privacy. So you go to the only place you know will- the room of requirement.

It accommodates you enough. The room has shifted into a remarkable replica of your bedroom back home. You collapse onto the bed instantly and your head barely hits the pillow before the sobs you’ve choked back all day finally escape you.

It’s like a dam breaking loose, a flood of emotions overcoming you. Sadness smashes into you like waves, guilt grips your throat tightly, choking you, anger heats your face, and self-loathing broils in your stomach. You can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t.

Why, why, why, why, why?

You’re so tired of giving, giving, giving. Being everything to everyone and nothing to yourself. Your body is a storm of emotions but your heart is the eye of the hurricane- silent and hollow.

You curl in on yourself, grabbing onto your legs tightly, trying to grip any sense of reality you have left. But your body shakes and your hands slip. It does little to ground you and you’re lost in another dimension, another reality. You can’t breathe, nothing feels real, and the world feels like it’s ending.

Nothing, nothing, nothing, everything, everything, everything.

“Angel, you gotta breathe for me.”

A voice breaks through your fog but you can’t focus in on what it’s saying.

“Baby, my love, look at me. You gotta take a breath.”

Through your shaking and tears you barely make out James’ figure. And when your eyes clear a little you see his eyes. It’s the first real thing you sense again, and you grasp onto it desperately. His hazel eyes stare at you, so calmly, and you get lost in them.

“Angel can you take a deep breath?”

You try to breathe but fail, only spluttering out short, shallow breaths.

“Not quite, my love. Here, match my breathing.”

James grabs your hand and puts it on his chest. You feel him breathe in deeply and hear him blow air past his lips.

“Like this.”

Still shaking aggressively, you try to inhale. Your breath is harsh and unstable, but at least longer and deeper. You purse your lips and blow, just like James does.

“That’s my girl. You’re doing it.”

You continue to breathe in and out. Each time, your breath slowly gets better. Stronger.

“Good, good. Can you tell me what happened?”

You try to think about all that’s happened and your breathing picks back up again. Tears prick at your eyes and you shake your head.

“No, no, no. It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m sorry, we won’t talk about it.”

Your body trembles and you nod appreciatively.

“Do you want a hug?”

“Y-yeah.”

You’re too weak to move towards him, so James reaches out and draws you into his lap. You bury your face in his chest and grip onto his jersey sleeves tightly. His hands rub soothing circles on your back, soft, slow, and repetitive. He intermittently places kisses to your hair, mumbling words of praise and encouragement in between.

The world starts to come back to you.

The soft sounds of James’ breathing and the whoosh of your shirt material under his hand.

His smell, a mixture of cologne and sweat.

His hot breath on your ear as he whispers to you.

His red jersey smushed against your face.

The remnants of your salty tears on your lips.

“I- I can’t keep doing this,” you mumble out. It’s barely audible, your voice hoarse from your meltdown.

“What’d you say, angel?”

“I can’t keep doing this, Jamie.”

He pulls you away from his chest and looks deeply into your eyes, his own so filled with concern.

“You can’t keep doing what?”

“Being everything to everyone all of the time. I- I can’t. It’s too much. I give and help and say yes when I can’t. But, but I can’t do it anymore.”

“Oh, my love,” James sighs, hugging you impossibly tighter, “you don’t have to, not anymore. You don’t have to be anything to anyone besides yourself. They’ll love you regardless. I promise.”

“But what if they don’t?” You whisper, your voice thick with tears.

“I’ll love you regardless. You’re my light, my love, my life just because you’re you.”

He pauses thoughtfully.

“You don’t need to be everything to everyone when you’re already everything to me. And hopefully soon, you can be everything to yourself.”

[ervotica]

loved up?

pairing; fred weasley x fem!reader

series; the bestfriendverse NEW! (ongoing)

warnings; allusions to self harm (reader), pining, idiots in love (but they don't know it yet), a lil sad but also fluffy

synopsis; fred gives you - his obviously platonic best friend - a cuddle in the common room. an interrogation ensues.

a/n; i'm veeeery rusty but i'm back bitches!! and proud to present.... the bestfriendverse. turning this into a lil series of drabbles (& hopefully longer chapters) if my brain keeps braining for long enough. so requests are muchly appreciated and my inbox is always open. cannot wait to explore these two in more depth!!! missed you all </3

You're halfway into Fred's lap when George and Lee round the corner to the common room, melty soft and warm with your legs over his thighs, eyes closed and lashes brushing at the juncture between his shoulder and neck.

He smells lovely.

He feels even lovelier – that soft rumble of his chest that lazily pushes its way through you, his hand at the side of your neck, keeping you nuzzling against him like a needy kitten. He hikes you further up and you preen, eyes still closed, half asleep and well on your way to drooling on his shoulder.

You stretch and wheedle your arms underneath his own until your shoulder is squeezed beneath his armpit. He makes room for you, as expected.

"Oi! They're having a love-fest in here!" Lee says. You groan and dig your head further into Fred's neck. Your heartbeat ticks up when he scrubs a sweeping circle over your back with his palm outstretched –you don't even mind when he rucks up your t-shirt.

You diligently ignore the hammering in your own ears.

The other end of the settee dips and George's weight settles at your back, knuckles brushing at the back of your neck in a way he knows makes you bristle and squirm. You squeak and make to dive behind Fred.

"Leave her be, Georgie," Fred says, mock offence dripping from his every syllable. His arm lifts instinctively and he ushers you right under until you're well and truly squashed, your whole body curled inward against his chest. It's endearing how seriously he takes defending your honour. "We were very comfortable before you interrupted, you silly sod."

"I resent that comment."

"You resemble it, more like."

George gasps in faux horror. You tip your head upwards just in time to watch Lee throw his arms around the pair of you, a devious grin on his face.

You know what he's going to say, no matter how much you wish he wouldn't.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you two looked proper loved up. Wouldn't you agree, George?"

"Absolutely."

If Fred feels you deflate, he's gracious enough not to mention it. Your lips purse and you busy yourself picking at your cuticles.

"Shut up," Fred snorts as though the thought alone is utterly ridiculous. Your heart does this awful sort of flip-flop that knocks the breath right out of you– it leaves an ache that carries right down to your toes.

You try to disentangle yourself from him as smoothly as possible. You want to run and hide from this conversation, the very conversation you've been rehearsing over and over in your head for months.

Being in love with your best friend isn't for the faint of heart.

Fred clings when you attempt to slide out of his grip, tugging you right back into his side. Heat rises to your cheeks so fast you feel faint.

Honestly, you might pass out right now.

Lee's already distracted, animatedly discussing the next upcoming prank with almost concerning fervour. Fred absentmindedly fiddles with the hem of your t-shirt as he listens.

Godric, you're burning up.

You can feel George's eyes on you. You know what he wants to say – can picture it right down to the pitying look in his eyes. He's always been the more observant twin.

You don't want to hear it.

Fred won't let go no matter how much you fidget. You pick at your nails until red pools at the edges of your cuticles. The sting prickles at your eyes.

"Hey." Fred's attention snaps to you suddenly. "What's the matter, lovie? You feeling alright?"

Fucking hell. He must be doing it on purpose, surely. Your throat burns.

"Nothing," you croak. "I'm okay."

It's just convincing enough for him to leave it, though you're half sure you'll be questioned later.

He smears a kiss to the crown of your head before he stands and it almost finishes you off.

That boy is going to be the death of you.

[kayhi808]

okay that sick ask got me thinking.

ahem reader and bucky get busy and reader calls him daddy right but the next day when reader brings abby around everyone and ur all having lunch she asks:

“mommy isn’t grandpa dead?”

and reader answers turning their head a bit “yes why”

“you kept calling for him last night. kept saying daddy” and she shrugs and continues doing whatever meanwhile reader and bucky are embarrassed as hell with all the stares

ofc feel free too ignore i just had to get this out of my brain lols.

Oh my God! 🫣🤣 Abby Rose you little stinker!

"Uncle Steve!" Abby runs over to Steve who just entered the common area. She crashes into him wrapping her arms around his leg. He gives her a surprised look, resting his hand on the top of her head. Steve's been gone for weeks on a mission and just returned, "I missed-ed you, big much!"

"Hey, Abs! I missed you, too." She looks up at him with a chubby cheek smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Bucky took Mama & me to dinner. We making ice feem. You wants?" She takes his hand & pulls him into the kitchen, where everyone seems to be gathered making sundaes. "Uncle Steve wants ice feem, too!"

Bucky raises an eyebrow, "Uncle Steve?"

Steve picks Abby up and sits her on the counter in front of him, "He's my Uncle now. He says so." Abby looks up at Steve for confirmation.

"I says so."

"See! I told him, my family is me & Mama, but he still wants to be families with me." She raises her hands above her head and claps for herself.

You smile, sliding 2 bowls over towards them. Abby is so animated and so happy it warms your heart. "Tank you, Mama!" She does her happy wiggle with her first bite. "And you knows what, Uncle Steve?"

"What, Abs?"

"Mama is finding me a grandpa!"

A little frown pulls at your lips, "Baby? Your grandpa is in Heaven, remember?"

"But you calls him. I heards you." Her little brow wrinkles, "You kept calling for your Daddy. 'Daddy! Daddy!' Like dat."

Bucky caught on before you did and everyone tried holding back their laughter. You felt lightheaded, "Oh, God."

"You call for hims too. You prayed-ed loud." Sam and Steve break out into the loudest laughter. Bucky just quickly turns you around, wrapping his arms around you, so you can hide against his chest.

"Come, Uncle Steve. I drawed-ed you a letter." She wiggles until Steve eases her to the ground and Abby leads him out, while he wipes tears of laughter from his eyes.

@waywardhunter95 @wintrsoldrluvr @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @crazyunsexycool @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @ozwriterchick @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @buckitostan @blackbirdwitch22 @littleredwolff @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05

[nosyrobin]

‼️TWIN SHENANIGANS‼️

Platonic Damian Al Ghul-Wayne x Twin!Reader

Imagine having two demons that are from the league of assassins…but only one of them is a true menace to society while the other is just …normal?

Two robins? Double trouble for Bruce because Damian is the older twin while you are the younger one. Of course you will follow him without a doubt.

You two paint, draw, and do anything together, it’s a nice sibling bonding. Sure what if Damian was a bit jealous and almost booby-trapped Dick when you started calling him “brother.” So what?

You need help? He’s helping you, not by just giving you straight up answers but mostly letting you understand.

Someone picks on you, immediately they have a bruised eye and lip. But that’s when Damian is having a nice day though, if he isn’t. He almost sent them to the hospital and got expelled.

Sometimes you two hold each other hands as if you both were the girls from “the shining”😭

When you can’t figure out what outfit you want to wear, don’t worry! Your twin Damian is gonna lay you out straight! He immediately makes you match with him as he smirks at you two looking the same.

You both do combo moves with each other. Literally training each other to see what moves you can pull off at the same time.

Tim was scared of you, like he personally thought you were gonna try and kill him only for you to make him a drawing and he immediately calmed down. That was until a certain demon popped up talking about “Twin, let’s go.” And you left. Making Tim confused before realizing twins exist…man coffee was getting to his brain.

I won’t lie, Damian may be a small bully towards you. But when you cry, that’s when he stops and show his soft side. You are his other part of him, it hurts to see you cry.

Literal definition of “only I can mess with my sibling…”

[evnseokz]

hii, hope you're doing well!

i'm thinking... bf!jungwon asks to record the sounds while doing sex and his gf decides to surprise him by asking him to cum inside

my first ever ask!! thank you so much for sending 🫶 hopefully i did this suggestion justice ^_^

pairing: bf! jungwon x f. reader

contents: p in v, unprotected sex (do nawt be like them), recording of moans/sex, pet names: baby, babe, kissing, nipple play

w.c. 640

his cock was nestled deep inside you, stretching you out so well. his thrusts were slow and deep, his tip kissing your cervix. your hands gripping his biceps as hard as you could, moans spilling from your lips.

jungwon was obsessed with the way you sounded, your moans being like music to his ears. an idea popped into his head. “baby, can i record your moans please?” he asked suddenly. your eyes which were closed previously, shot open, blush creeping onto your cheeks. “w-what?” you ask, slightly embarrassed at the question. “it’ll be for my ears only babe i swear, just for when i’m away and need to hear you.” he replied sensing hesitancy in your voice. you chewed on your lip as you racked your brain for an answer. finally you nod, jungwon not wasting another second to lean over to grab his phone off the nightstand and hit record. he set the phone down next to your body and focused his attention back to you and only you.

he continued his thrusts into you, light whimpers still falling from your lips, but now hyper aware of the phone recording you, you seemed to be holding back. “c’mon baby let me hear you” jungwon pouted. jungwon picked up his pace without warning, thrusting into you with speed, thus causing loud moans to fall from your mouth. jungwon smiled in satisfaction as he brought his hand down to your heat, and started rubbing circles on your clit. you cry out, the combination of him filling you up so well with his cock and the attention to your clit being all too much. jungwon smirked to himself, feeling you clench around his cock, he groaned slightly.

he can tell you’re close, his thrusts never slow and he leans down to capture you in a kiss. “feels s’good won” you mumble against his lips, he breaks away, and peppers kisses down your neck and to your chest. he brings his mouth down to your nipples, swirling and sucking on the sensitive nubs. the extra sensation sending waves of pleasure through your body, your orgasm ripping through you as jungwon continues to thrust in and out of you, seemingly chasing his own high. “w-where do you want me? i’m c-close” he stutters slightly. you contemplate in your head for a moment. “baby hurry and answer i can’t last much longer” he whines.

you wrap your legs around his waist trapping him in place as he continues to thrust inside you. you can tell he’s holding himself back from cumming, and you giggle slightly at his frustration. “baby it’s not f-funny” his head hangs as his balls begin to tighten. “i’m serious where do you want me” he says again. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to be face to face with you, “inside” you say simply. you bite your lip, starting to feel overstimulated from his thrusts. shock is written all over jungwons face, “a-are you su-“ “yes.” you cut him off before he can even finish his question. you smash your lips into his, clenching around him slightly as you feel a second orgasm bubbling up in your stomach. he moans loudly, his hips stuttering and his thrusts becoming sloppy, emptying his seed into your cunt. your second orgasm follows shortly after, milking him for everything he has.

he reaches to his phone, pressing end recording and then he collapses on top of you, you shrieking slightly at the sudden weight on your body. “wonnn you’re heavy” you whine. he slowly lifts himself up, looking you in your face, “sorry baby, you were just too good” he smiled before dropping down to pepper your face with kisses. you giggle, managing to capture his lips into yours for a quick kiss. he pulls away, “i love you so much” he says, “i love you so much my wonie.”

[iluvapplesxh]

Hi can you do a billie x fem!reader pleasee where reader is like overworking themselves and not taking care of themselves, like not sleeping or eating enough, and they basically take it too far and idk where to go after that but yeahh and it ends with billie's comfort if that makes sense 😭😭

⧽⧽Blurry⧼⧼

❀ pair: billie eilish x fem!reader

✰ summary: God, it was so hard. Everything was, but you couldn't just stop. You never did, not when it felt like you were slowly being separated from what was supposed to be reality. All you needed was something to hold you and pull you back to it, but in your case, it was someone.

✯ warnings: mentions of anxiety, stress, mentions of hallucinations, fluff, !ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!

✒ a/n: I misspelled my own name on my header image ☹️

The words on the paper pages in front of you blurred together and the pen grasped between your fingers shook the slightest bit. Your eyes burned from the constant light of your laptop and the shitty table lamp on the corner of your desk. Your heart was beating faster than it should be - probably from the amount of caffeine you’ve consumed- and you dropped the pen with an exhausted sigh. Your hands came up to cover your face while your fingers pressed into your sore eyes, hoping to soothe the pain but being unsuccessful. 

With a deep breath, one hand dropped onto the papers with a harsh thud while the other ran through your hair before joining the other on the desktop. You felt tears prick your eyes from sheer exhaustion and your teeth dug onto your lower lip to keep them in, taking a few more deep breaths in through your nose before you picked up the pen again and looked down at the papers.

All you wanted to do was get out of this damn room and run to your bedroom -okay, maybe not run- and cuddle into your girlfriend’s arms until you sleep all the stress and worries away. Her voice in your ear whispering comforting words and her kisses littering your skin lulling you into a deep sleep.

But that was not possible, the fucking deadline for this shit was creeping up on you at a fast pace and the closer it got the more stressed you were.

Your hand moved the ballpen against the paper swiftly, not even your brain could comprehend what you were writing down. It was almost like you were on auto pilot. Your head spun a little and your knee bounced up and down, probably from the caffeine rush and stress. Your chest felt tighter with each breath taken and your breathing felt restrained, more and more by the minute.

The white page was beginning to grow spotty, or maybe it was your eyes. You didn’t know, you couldn’t tell. Your movements stilled and your face scrunched up, eyes screwed shut. Your hands clenched and unclenched before one of them reached for the mug of coffee you made earlier, only when you did the only thing you grabbed was air and your eyes flew open in confusion. They darted around the table, searching for the mug of coffee you made.

But did you ever?

You blinked rapidly, turning in your chair to look around the dark room, only illuminated by the light of the laptop and table lamp. There was no coffee. There never was.

Your shoulders dropped and you turned ahead again, leaning back with a huff and furrowed eyebrows.

What?

Your eyelids were low from tiredness and soon the heels of your palms pressed into your eyes, swallowing harshly. Your hands dropped to your lap again and slow breaths left your lips.

It was like reality was slipping away from you. You didn't know what was real or not. And it made you scared and confused.

What’s wrong with me?

Your head shook from side to side and your heart beat in your throat, suddenly your ears were ringing harshly, and your head was pounding mercilessly. Your tongue darted out to lick your dried, chapped up lips.

You didn’t hear the door open, or close. Well, maybe you did, and you didn’t know whether it was real or not. You didn’t jump when arms slowly draped down your shoulders and wrapped around your neck loosely, your eyes just bore into your paper covered desk in front of you. 

“Baby” 

Billie’s head dropped onto your shoulder, her voice raspy and silky as she spoke. You slowly let out a small hum in response, not entirely acknowledging her presence just yet. One of her hands squeezed your shoulder gently.

“It’s late. You’ve been in here for the whole day” She murmured softly and tenderly, signing into your shoulder. It seemed that she was also tired.

Your eyes finally lifted from the papers up to the wall, landing on the clock. 3:12AM. Your brows furrowed before your own sigh left your body and you nodded. 

“Come on, let’s get to bed, hm?” Billie lifts her head from your shoulder, arms unwrapping from around your neck and her hands rested on your shoulders, massaging gently.

You exhaled and shook your head, slightly relaxing under her touch. “I can’t” Your voice came out hoarse and you cleared your throat before continuing. “I need to finish this.” You mumbled, one hand picking up the pen again and the other blindly reaching for the bottle of pills you keep on your desk.

You heard Billie scoff behind you and soon heard the rattle of pills as she picked it up before you, throwing it on the couch in the room. “Fuck that, you’re exhausted” 

You huffed and your front teeth sunk into your bottom lip. “I’m fine, and I’m almost done anyway” You swallowed hard.

“Bullshit,” Billie muttered then grabbed the backrest of your chair and turned you around to face her. Though your eyes were spacey and distant and blinking so slowly, she was suddenly more worried. A soft breath came from her nose before she leaned down eye level with you and took your face in her hands. “Please, sweetheart. For me.” 

You felt her thumbs stroke the bags under your eyes, so tender and affectionate it made you want to sob into her arms. Her blue eyes, filled with worry, met yours and your lip trembled before you pulled it into a pout, nodding.

Billie breathed a sigh of relief, and a small smile formed on her lips. “Good” She whispered and leaned in, pressing her soft lips onto your forehead for a long moment before she pulled away and stood up, holding out her hands. You slowly took them, and she helped you up, feeling her arm wrap around you to steady you as she walked you out of the room.

You walked down the corridor in silence until you reached the door of your shared bedroom, and she opened it with one hand. In a couple moments you were sitting on the bed as Billie walked over with one of her hoodies.

“Can you undress, love?”  She spoke softly, standing in front of you. You nodded subtly and took in a deep breath. Then you ploddingly took off your t-shirt, handing it to Billie. Then you stood briefly, pulling down your pants before slumping down again and taking them off all the way. And although the bedroom air was a comfortable warmth, your skin still filled with goosebumps when it hit it. Billie hands you the hoodie and you took it quickly, pulling it over your head and sighing softly when her scent engulfed your body completely, making your mind clearer and more relaxed.

Billie placed down your used clothes before rounding the bed and climbing onto the bed. “Lie down, darling.” She murmured softly; hand wrapped around your lower arm to pull a little. You nodded and lifted the blanket, sliding under it with a deep breath. 

Billie turned off her bedside lamp before shifting closer to you. You felt her arms wrap around your torso before you were pulled into her body. You slowly turned around in her arms, yours circling her body and your head rested on her chest. One of her hands rubbed your back comfortingly while the other ran through your hair. She leaned down and placed a kiss onto your hairline before resting back against the pillows.

“Sleep now, okay?” Billie whispered and there was a hint of worry still in her voice but mostly just love. “I’m not going anywhere” Her words made your whole body relax against hers while your eyes closed, breathing evening out. 

You knew she would scold you later that day on how you shouldn’t work so much and how you should take proper care of yourself, making it a whole lecture even though it most likely will happen again.

But that didn't matter in this moment because her touch and hold made you feel safe, and the exhaustion lifted from your shoulders. She was your safe place, a pair of arms to hold you when you did stupid things like this. A pair of lips to kiss away the racing thoughts in your head and the warmth of a body making you forget all about work and stress. It was just you and her, forever, ever and you made the perfect pair.

✒ a/n: I hate this, I hate myself, but I wrote it, and I might as well post it! also I kinda imagine Billie the way the pictures show so, blonde Billie?

REQUESTS OPEN

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 3

Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem)

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, fluffy, mild angst, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings: reader character dealing with anxiety from previous chapter (non-descriptive),hinted at trauma from fatphobia, hints of Jason's self esteem and body image issues, otherwise it's fluff central

word count: 2.2k (oops? 😅)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Ding!

I looked over at my phone, briefly considering not picking it up. When I got through my front door I had ripped my jeans off, suddenly hating everything touching me. I showered, scrubbing the night off until my skin was raw and tingling, and now I was curled up on my bed sheets, having a good cry. I didn't really want to talk to anyone right now…

Ding! Ding! … Ding!

God, whoever it was was insistent though … I sighed softly and picked it up, checking the messages:

Jason: Good morning! I am so sorry for the sudden disappearance - my phone broke on my way to visit my brother!  3:15am Jason: Just got back into town, so I've finally got the sim card in an old one for now. 3:17am Jason: I feel bad, I owe you a week of good mornings! 😭 3:17am Jason: And sorry for spamming you - I just didn't want you to think the worst for a second longer than necessary… 3:18am

I stared at the screen for a long while. Jason was back … just like Red Hood said. Huh… 

Me: Don't worry about it, shit happens! 3:40am Jason: … What are you still doing up?  3:41am

I briefly considered telling him everything. Maybe it would feel good to tell someone … or maybe it would feel even worse. We didn't really know each other yet, who knew how he would react? Nausea gripped my stomach and I shook my head, taking a few deep breaths before replying.

Me: Just got home is all. Picked up a late shift tonight. 3:50am Jason: That's a hell of a late shift, that must have sucked! 3:52am Me: … Yeah, honestly it wasn't great… 😔 3:53am Jason: What are you doing tomorrow? 3:54am Me: Nothing in particular, y? 3:56am Jason: That settles it then! No more excuses, come hell or high water I will see you tomorrow! 3:56am

I stared at the screen, not sure how to feel about that idea. I did want to see him again, but I also really just wanted to sleep for 48 hours straight…

Jason: Seriously, name a time and place. We'll do anything you want! 😁 3:59am Me: You don't have to do that, Jason - you just got back! Don't you need to work? 4:00am Jason: Nope! We came back a day early, so I am all yours! 4:02am Me: … All mine, huh? 😏 4:05am Jason: 100%! Anything you want, name it! 4:06am Me: … Gotham City Mall, meet in front of the bookstore at … say 4? 4:08am Jason: Perfect, see you in 12 hours! Good night 4:08am Me: Good night Jason 4:09am

I was exhausted, but couldn't seem to sleep. I was still coming down from the anxiety and adrenaline from being attacked, and now I was also nervous and tentatively excited about seeing Jason. This was the step that usually proved someone was playing games with me. I sighed softly, sliding a hand down my soft tummy. I didn't mind the way I was shaped, but other people sure had a way of making it seem like the end of the world… I silently begged the universe; let this one be good. No more games, let it be real this time…

When I finally did sleep, my dreams were filled with red. Blood all over the pavement, staining everything. Red chrome staring me down as I cried. Large hands, so gentle against my cheeks, pulling me against a warm, broad chest…

I woke with a start and peered over at my discarded clothes in a heap from the night before. Red Hood's flannel peaked out from under my ruined pants, taunting me; I was about to go on a date and I was dreaming about another man? A man I was surely never going to see again no less? That's real healthy, well done Brain.

I stepped over the clothes on the floor, not wanting to deal with the mess left over from last night, and selected a cute but comfortable outfit. I ate a quick breakfast, spent longer than I'd care to admit on my hair and makeup, and headed downstairs to catch the bus to the mall.

My anxiety grew as I approached the front doors. It’s a trick, it must be a trick. The cold air conditioning hit me in the face, a welcome respite from the summer heat, and I made my way toward the bookstore. He's a hottie, and really sweet. Or at least knows how to play sweet. He's definitely not actually interested. I could see the sign for the bookstore on the other side of the mall. And he's a Wayne too! What could a Wayne want with me?? … Oh god, I threatened them, didn't I? I told the little one I'd stab them if they came back to the table. Why did I say that???

I blinked a bit, pausing. That was him, leaned against the wall right next to the bookstore. He had actually shown up. I watched him scroll on his phone for a minute before looking up and scanning the crowd. When his eyes landed on me I continued walking toward him. He pocketed his phone, kicked off the wall, and walked over to meet me, a little grin lighting up his face.

“You're actually here…” the words left my mouth before I could reconsider, my disbelief apparent in my tone. Jason looked a bit confused at that, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.

“Well, yeah? … You said 4, right?”

“Sorry! Yes, I said 4. I just … I honestly wasn't sure this was … real…”

“Why wouldn't it be real?”

I blushed a bit, clearing my throat slightly; “n- never mind! Sorry, I had a weird week; my brain hasn't fully caught up.”

He nodded a little, smiling gently. “Well, I hope it's getting better at least.”

I nodded. “Yeah, it is. Thanks. … So, what should we do?”

“Like I said last night; anything you want.”

“Well, … we're right here, do you want to start at the bookstore?”

He nodded and fell into step beside me, smiling gently. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked into the store, browsing the aisles. It was odd how comfortable this was; he was a good half foot taller than me, and at least 200 pounds of pure muscle. If his arms and cheek were any gauge he was absolutely covered in old scars, and he had a bandage on one forearm so whatever gave him the scars probably wasn't confined to the past.

I should be terrified - everything about my upbringing told me this was a dangerous situation to be in. But when I saw the look in his eyes, like I was the most interesting thing in the world, all of my self-defense training fell out of my head. The voices urging me to get to safety quieted, all my instincts stilled, and there was peace. His eyes were so beautiful… 

“... Is there something on my face?” He blushed a bit, chuckling awkwardly.

I blinked, looking away. “Sorry! I wasn't staring, I just …”

“... Did you want to ask about this?” he pointed to the scar on his cheek.

“Huh? No! I have a policy of not asking people about stuff like that; you'll tell me or not on your own time. No, I just … I like your eyes is all …’’ I blushed brightly, staring at but not reading the back cover of a book.

“... My eyes?” I nodded, still pretending to read the back cover. “... You're really not going to ask about my scars?”

“Unless you want to talk about them, it's not any of my business.”

“... You're a very unusual girl.”

“Because I'm not going to pry about something you may or may not want to talk about, particularly on a first date?”

“Well, they're usually the first thing anyone wants to talk to me about. If they don't avoid me in the first place…”

I frowned a bit at that. If we met under any other circumstances, I would have taken one look at him and ducked my head to avoid an interaction. “... People suck…”

“It's not their fault; I'm intimidating…” I cautiously looked over at him. He was also staring at a book cover, a pensive little frown on his face.

“... I don't think you're intimidating.”

His eyes darted over and back to the book, and the corner of his mouth curled up ever so slightly. “... Thanks.”

I nodded, setting the book down. “.... So …”

“So? …”

“... Play a game?”

He chuckled, looking over at me. “A game?”

I nodded. “You tell me some of your favorite things in books, I'll tell you some of mine. We separate, select a few of our favorites that the other might like, and reconvene.”

“Alright. Is there a way to win this game?”

“Well I assume we'll each pick at least one book the other hasn't read, so we'll get to make each other read at least one of our favorites. That sounds like a win to me.”

He chuckled. “Alright. Meet back up at those comfy chairs in the back?”

I nodded, telling him some of my favorite tropes, genres, and settings. He did the same, and we darted in opposite directions. He beat me back there, but I eventually approached with a small stack, falling into the seat next to him.

He gestured toward my books; “ladies first.”

I tucked my feet under me, passing him each book in turn and making a case for it. He took each one, read the back cover, and listened intently. He had read one of them, and I figured he'd pick one of the others, if that, but he insisted he was going to get them all. When it was his turn, I wasn't entirely sure what to expect, but Pride and Prejudice wasn't the first thing that came to mind. 

“I've seen a few movie adaptations, but I haven't gotten around to reading it.” I smiled softly, taking the book. It was a beautiful blue cover with swirling calligraphy font in gold.

“An unparalleled tragedy - I insist this is the one you're taking home!” I giggled at his determined tone and nodded.

“Yes, sir!” I made a little mock salute, trying not to smirk at the sudden wave of pink overtaking his face. “... Well, what else do you have for me?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking at the books in his hands. “Ah, um …”

One by one he passed me, Hamlet, the Three Musketeers, a book of Greek myths, and … a trashy romance?

“... Not gonna lie, this is an unexpected choice.” I read the back. It looked like your typical bodice ripper.

He chuckled, blushing a bit. “Look, it was the only book I had access to one day and I was losing my mind with boredom. But if you give it a chance, it's actually really well written, and the love interest isn't one of those creepy possessive guys the genre is known for, so …”

I nodded, taking a picture of the book covers. “I will give it a chance then!”

“... Why are you taking a picture of them?”

“... To get later? I'll start with this one, since you were so determined that I read it.” I held up Pride and Prejudice. Jason gathered up the others, putting them on his stack, then gently took Pride and Prejudice from me as well.

“Or I could just get them for you.” 

“What? Jason, no. I mean, that’s really sweet of you, but that's way too much!” Between the books he'd picked out for me and the ones I'd selected for him, he was holding at least $200 in his hands. And he'd picked the pretty hardcovers too! 

He shook his head. “I've had to cancel on you at least 5 times, and then I disappeared with no warning. You have been incredibly patient and understanding, and I will make today worth it.”

I blushed brightly, a bit surprised. “Jason, … you're worth waiting for. I enjoy talking to you, you don't have to spend money on me for today to be worth my time.”

He looked away uncomfortably, bright red, holding the stack of books to his chest. “... I … I like talking to you too … just let me do this, yeah? Call it a first date splurge.”

“... Alright, if you're sure. But I don't want you making a habit of this.”

He nodded, smiling softly. “Don't worry; I know you're a strong, independent woman.”

I nodded once, chuckling. “Damn right.”

Jason grinned, god he had an infectious grin, and led me to stand in line together. He held the stack of books in one hand, and we chatted a bit more while we waited for our turn. I was looking at a selection of little plushies in the impulse items when I felt something brush ever so slightly against my finger. I looked down; his trembling hand was next to mine, his pinky slightly extended toward me. I chuckled softly, extending mine toward him, and gently linked our fingers together. He stiffened ever so slightly before relaxing into it, gently squeezing back.

Divider by @saradika (and my thanks for making them free to use!)

Taglist (let me know in the comments if you want to be added or dropped!)

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona

[nb-octopus-writes]

once you’re in the hive, the other bees assume you’re supposed to be there

[Masterpost]

Chapter 8: One Could Get Used to This

Wordcount: 1.5K

~~~~

No-one comes to drag Virgil out of bed. He wakes on his own the next morning and for a few moments contemplates getting out of bed, but then he rolls over and goes back to sleep. It’s his day off, he doesn’t have any plans, and he is cozy.

He wakes again around noon, and wanders downstairs. There’s no-one in the sitting room, but he finds Patton in the dining room, curled up in the armchair with a book.

“Good morning!” Patton greets cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Virgil says. “You?”

Patton’s eyes crinkle up in a pleased smile. “I did, yes, thank you,” he says. 

Virgil fidgets, just a little, and he glances back toward the door. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Hm,” Patton says thoughtfully, tapping the book against his chin. “Logan’s in his office, and last I saw him, Roman was still asleep, poor dear.” He chuckles. “You two sure were up real late last night. And Remus and Janus aren’t here right now, but they were going to come to dinner, so they should be arriving in a few hours.” He pauses, thinking. “I don’t think anyone else was planning to be here today, but I might have forgotten something, or they might’ve forgotten to mention it. That happens sometimes.”

“Must make meal planning difficult,” Virgil says.

“It can,” Patton agrees. “But I like to make sure we have plenty of leftovers anyway, so a surprise guest or two isn’t very hard to accommodate.” He smiles gently at Virgil. “Are you hungry? Would you like some breakfast?”

“If you’re offering,” Virgil says, because they have been incredibly hospitable to him so far, but he doesn’t want to presume anything.

“Oh of course,” Patton says, setting his book down. “I hate to leave anyone hungry when there’s food in the house. What would you like? Are you in the mood for a breakfast breakfast, or something more lunchy?”

Virgil hesitates. “I don’t want to make you cook something just for me,” he says.

“Oh, it’s no trouble!” Patton reassures him. “I like cooking. But we do have leftovers in the fridge if you would like something quicker.”

Virgil nods a little. “What are my options?”

“Well, we’ve still got plenty of what we had last night, of course,” Patton says consideringly, getting up and heading towards the kitchen. Virgil follows. “And I made a fresh batch of boiled eggs this morning.” He opens the fridge and peers inside, then waves Virgil over. “Take a look, anything look appetizing?”

Virgil joins Patton in front of the fridge and looks inside. ‘Plenty of leftovers’ may have been an understatement. The fridge is quite full, mostly of containers. There’s no way Virgil can possibly see all the options without taking most of the contents out to see what’s behind them, and he is not about to do that.

Trying to be quick, Virgil scans the food visible through the sides of the containers. He sees white rice, mixed vegetables, something brown that’s probably gravy, mashed potatoes, a couple drumsticks… 

He knows, reasonably, that everything in this fridge is probably very good. He is also sure that if he was sat down and served any of these choices, he would eat it without complaint and be pleased with it. But just now, looking at the leftover containers, his stomach and taste buds rebel, and nothing looks appealing. 

“I don’t know,” Virgil says. It’s not that he isn’t hungry. His stomach is very helpfully informing him that it is currently empty. It is just also telling him, simultaneously, that there isn’t a single food in the entire world that will satisfy, and unfortunately it has annexed his tongue to its side. His brain, meanwhile, is yelling that he’s taking too long to decide, and he needs to hurry up and pick something before Patton gets upset at him for letting all the cold out of the fridge.

Patton makes a sympathetic sound. “Too many options to choose between?” he says softly. “Would you like me to prepare you a plate?”

Virgil’s very bones go limp. “Yes please,” he says weakly, glad to have the decision taken out of his hands.

Patton rests his hand gently on Virgil’s arm. “Why don’t you go wait in the comfy chair, and I’ll bring you some food in a minute,” he suggests gently.

“Okay,” Virgil says, and goes. Just as he settles, Patton appears in the doorway again with an empty plate in his hands.

“You don’t have any dietary restrictions, do you?” he asks. “I know it’s a bit late to be asking, but…”

“No, I’ll eat anything,” Virgil says, fondness rising in his chest. “Thanks for checking.”

“You’re welcome,” Patton says, and goes back into the kitchen. He returns a few minutes later, the plate now laden with a large slice of lasagna. “Do you want to come eat at the table, or over there?” he asks.

“Table, definitely,” Virgil says, moving. Much less risk of spilling red tomato sauce on their furniture that way, plus he’d rather not try to balance a hot plate on his lap right now. He sits, and Patton places the plate in front of him. Virgil’s eyes go wide. In addition to the lasagna, there’s a slice of home-baked bread with butter and jam, and a small heap of peas and corn. “Just how big do you think my appetite is?”

Patton chuckles. “Sorry,” he says. “Force of habit. Roman would clean that plate and then ask for seconds, especially after sleeping through breakfast.”

“I can believe it,” Virgil says with a laugh.

Patton pats his shoulder, then moves away. “If it’s too much, we can put some of it back,” he says as he reclaims the armchair. “You don’t have to eat all of it.”

He’s certainly going to give it his best go, Virgil’s stomach informs him seriously. His tongue agrees.

Virgil starts with a large bite of bread. It’s no longer fresh-baked, but Patton had re-warmed it. Toasted, maybe? There’s a bit of crunch to it, though it’s still pleasantly soft, not hard as a rock like most toast.

Roman makes an appearance when Virgil’s about halfway through his meal, wearing only a white tank top and a pair of red shorts. Virgil isn’t sure if they’re loose boxer shorts or thin actual shorts, but he’s not about to stare at Roman’s crotch and/or ass long enough to figure it out, and he’s certainly not about to ask.

Probably they’re actual shorts. Roman has so far struck him as having somewhat more decorum than Remus, and probably wouldn’t walk around in just his underwear with a random person in his house.

Probably.

“Ooh, that looks delicious, I want some of that, is there more?” Roman says in greeting, completely oblivious to Virgil’s inner musings.

“There’s one piece of lasagna left, and plenty of the rest,” Patton tells him, and Roman strides into the kitchen.

He returns after a few minutes with a lunch identical to Virgil’s, except that the heap of vegetables is taller, and he has a second, already half-eaten slice of bread in his hand. Also his jam is a different color. Roman plonks himself down in the chair diagonally adjacent to Virgil and grins at him. “Good morning,” he says cheerfully. “I see you did not flee into the night like Cinderella.”

“If I was going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight, it would have happened well before Patton came to tell us to go to bed,” Virgil points out.

“True,” Roman agrees. He turns and points his fork at Patton. “Patty Cake, if he ever turns into a pumpkin, don’t bake him into a pie,” he says.

Patton laughs. “How many times must I promise not to eat him?” he asks.

“Once more, it seems,” Virgil says. “For what it’s worth, I believed you the first time.”

Patton’s eyes twinkle. “I appreciate that.”

“Did you sleep well?” Roman asks Virgil. Virgil nods. As if he could have slept poorly, in that bed. And it was certainly nice to get to sleep in late. “Good, good. After breakfast, do you wanna watch more tv?”

Virgil laughs. “You’re insatiable,” he says.

“We left off on a cliffhanger!” Roman defends. “And I, for one, was thoroughly enjoying myself up until the point at which we were reminded of the cruel passage of time and the physical needs of our frail human bodies.”

“I was having fun too,” Virgil agrees. And, well, he doesn’t have any better plans for his afternoon off. It’ll be fun. He’ll just have to remember to actually bike home before it gets dark again.

“Excellent!” Roman says, clearly taking that as a yes, and tucks into his meal with gusto.

~~~~

Chapter 9: Come for the Bike, Stay for the Game Night - WIP

may have a brief break in my regularly scheduled chapter posting, as I've caught up to myself and am still writing chapter 9. So, we'll see if it's ready next week, but likely not.

[ihopesocomic]

It's such a shame how many good brother-brother duos or sister-brother duos there are compared to sister-sister duos

I know it stems from writers always feeling the need to add a man in every woman's life

A lot of writers can only make a character who's a sister if she's a sister to a brother and it's a real shame

Honestly I think Nothing from MP is a pretty good example of that

Look at her relationship with her female siblings/cousin vs her male siblings/cousin

Fire ended up being horrible and Feather is a toxic positive "lemme make you feel bad for wanting to change your ableist name even though it literally doesnt effect me" dirtbag

But Nothing had a better relationship with vs her younger sisters/cousins

Farleap and Silentstalk bullied her and Feather's sisters thought she was weirdo though they like literally never interacted

It's just always suspicious when a writer seems to prioritize a female character's relationship with guys over her relationship with girls

Like their gender shouldn't matter but they'll always pick their male characters first

The sexism in writing still to this day is wild. Especially where so-called independent creators are concerned. Because I thought the whole point of being indie was creating stuff you wanted to see in mainstream media but didn't get, but a lot of it is just more of the same crap you get from bigger productions. So either people want more sexism, or its just baked into their brain and they don't even realize it.

A lot of better stories out there are about brothers (well, I could argue that a lot of it is lazy and that there is no point to the characters being brothers, especially when strong emotional friendships between men are practically nonexistent in media.) and anything having to do with sisters is as I said, either petty nonsense or there's no point to being sisters at all.

And then there's as you said, an inherent need by creators for women to have men be relevant in their lives when that same standard is not applied to men. You can throw a rock and hit a movie or show with a female pov where her only motivation has to do with a man. Father, son, brother, husband, boyfriend, abuser. Whatever.

That's not to say any of these are bad stories. But when its the majority of supposed woman-focused media, it loses its edge as woman-focused when the women in question are focused on men. The writers either consciously or subsconsciously don't get that women have motivations beyond men. This even happens with lesbian characters, where men should have even less relevancy? LOL And it doesn't even matter who the writers are, whether they're men/women, cis/trans, straight/gay, everyone does this. You'd expect better from queer creators but even then there's a clear preference. And they're wont to bring up that "gender shouldn't matter" but only when it pertains to asking why they're so opposed to women being the focus. Its quite interesting.

MP is in an interesting position of hating both men and women at the same time while not commenting on how the patriarchy has negative effects on both men and women. Not an easy feat but Tribble sure made it look easy. She made Feather Nothing's prime motivator for leaving the pride, and while I have my own criticisms of Nothing's "subtle" motherlyness towards Feather, that wasn't extended to the female cubs. Fire is Nothing's other motivation for leaving the pride, and then he turned out to be a wannabe dictator. Quickmane was shown to be a sympathetic and caring mate who definitely wasn't homophobic, but had no qualms about killing children. And then there's alllllll the women who are meant to be oppressed to the same extent as Nothing, but they all somehow manage to be even worse because the narrative wants us to side with them.

And even Nothing's abusive relationship with Quickmane as we've stated in our review is arguably less fucked up than the relationship she has with her own mother. Because we know what they think about each other, and Powerstrike still insists that Nothing's existence is a burden on her soul or whatever. Like what the fuck is up with that?? I'm sure they could've made Powerstrike less-bad than Quickmane, was this some sort of weird equalizer of the sexes? And you can count Nothing's relationship with Sharptongue if you're so inclined to, but even if you ignore everything else she did, Sharptongue would still be the only positive female influence in Nothing's life. But not a key motivator in Nothing's story. Like not even a little bit.

[saltofmercury]

"A cycle"

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

A/N: Originally was going to make it back to spring but I lost the energy. Also excuse the indent I lost my page break and could NOT insert it due to lack of patience!!!

Words: 2k

Summary: You meet Jason again... but he's a little off. Brief mention of AK! Jason.

It’s been roughly 10 years. 

—Almost 11 since you lost him. You remember his last words spoken, 

“I’ll see you… unless death comes first.”

Gloom had surrounded the city, it was supposed to be another normal day. But you started to get worried when he never called. Days trailed on and you assumed he stood you up. 

Your life is at a standstill, you missing your other half, your best friend. It isn’t until you get the news and the invitation to a funeral.

Death came first.

Days turn into months, years. 

The numbness never goes away, it just settles into your stomach, carefully simmering until it boils throughout your body, releasing—erupting emotion of him on the anniversary of his death.

Some days are harder than others and when you finally think you can go a day without thinking of 

“Unless death comes first—“

the universe throws you another curveball.

He arrives on a spring day, almost re-birthed and renewed. 

He stands at his gravesite. Taller and broader. Your stomach twists and bile rises up your throat. But you tell your brain it's not real, you manage to count the petals on the daisies you’re leaving.

You stare up at him again, the wind knocked out of you. He’s breathless and pale, staring back at you. He’s got scars all over his face—including the shape of a J under his eye. His t-shirt hangs low on his collarbones and you can see scarring there too. His hair is longer, almost touching his eyebrows. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” He says stone faced.  His eyebrows are knit together. Hoping you remembered what he promised.

You’re frozen, almost sick to your stomach. Bile is prominent on your tongue and this hallucination has taken over.

He can tell you don't believe him and he grabs your hand and places it on his face.

“It’s me, I'm here. I’m still here.”

He’s so much taller than you remember. 

His face aged and his eyes have turned green. There’s a new white streak in his hair that is so prominent. 

And he scowls now. It's like his lips have permanently stayed down.

You never know what to say to him. Where to pick up where you left off. He follows you home, like a stray dog. Loyal to his core. Loyal to you at least.

He never tells you what he’s up to these days.

You do have a clue. 

It’s not rocket science to place him and the Arkham knight together. It’s almost impossible to walk at night without becoming a victim outside. You’ve caught a glimpse of the man that strikes fear all over the city.

It’s not Robin in that suit.

You never bring it up. Assumptions linger.

He tries to fall back into routine with you. He still sleeps on his side of the bed. He still makes your coffee in the morning. Rubs your back at night, and settles into the crook of your neck. But it never turns into anything more.

When you bring up what you guys are, he shrugs it off, plays dumb. 

Did he come back worse? Or are you just sensitive?

There’s a time you remember when all he wanted was to be called your boyfriend. Say it loud, hold hands in public. But even then there were rules. It was kept a secret just between you two.

Now there’s a protectiveness to him, he’s sealed off from you. Tells you —

“We’re good at this. We’re good friends.” But even he doesn’t mean it.

Jason doesn’t want you to know what happened to him. He despises pity. He should’ve told you where he was going that night. He should’ve left a tracker with you.

It’s been years and the minute he was revived from the pit his brain told him Bruce but his heart told him to come back to you.

The pit also intensified his anger. He’s angry at the world. Angry that he’s been placed in this piece of shit city where the same criminals and sociopaths linger around every corner. Shit, he died a couple years, came back, and these same criminals are still here.

Nothing changes in this city. So maybe it’s time he changes it himself.

There's broken walls and broken dishes every time you come home. You think about leaving but he switches up. It's a sick game of hot and cold.

The days are longer and warmer now. There’s a humidity that surrounds the city and sunsets take your breath away. You come home exhausted from work. Your phone pings nonstop, your head pounding, cars and people outside your window are blaring.

He can sense your anxiousness. Your body language is limp. He can watch you chew your lip until it’s bright pink. He walks towards you grabbing your body with both arms towering over you.

“How about we sneak off, just you and me?”

He says with such intensity in his eyes that you feel the heat boil thick inside your stomach. 

He cowards you in until your back hits the wall. The coolness of it gives you goosebumps. He grabs your chin and then runs his hand down your hair, twisting at the ends.

“What do you say?” He says again, a little more agitated that he needs to convince you. 11 years ago you would’ve just said yes.

And maybe this time you’ll say yes…

“Where would we go?” 

“Anywhere that’s not here.”

He’s so certain you’ll say yes. He’s already thinking of setting this entire city on fire and restarting a life with you. A life where you don’t beat around the bush and you come home with a smile for him.

But you don’t. It’s not enough for you. There’s so much tension in the room. You say you need a bath and a nap.

He lets you go instantly, walking towards the balcony and slamming the sliding door.

You don’t even know him anymore. You dance around each other.

On the balcony he takes 3 deep breaths, then another 2, then another 4 until he realizes he’s on the verge of tears and he wishes he could just tell you the shit that’s in his head.

He sees how you eye him, nervous and on edge. He barely takes his shirt off around you because the thought of his autopsy scar disgusts him and he can’t have you be disgusted with him.

There’s so much hate in his heart. There’s so much violence that he beats the shit out of his henchmen and resorts to putting bullets on anyone he can’t trust.

He hears the water running when he enters the living room again. There are sobs coming from the bathroom and now he feels even worse.

He came back a monster.

Splashes of orange and red surround the skyline. Temperatures drop and the leaves crunch beneath you. You’re both home tonight. You’re so happy. The luxury of being in his presence at this hour. He tells you he can take a day off for his girl.

His girl. 

The nickname raises goosebumps on your arm to your shoulders. He’s changed a bit. He stays home more. Doesn’t leave you hanging as much.

After some take-out, you sit on the couch deciding to pick a movie. One of his hands curls up your spine to the nape of your neck, as the other scrolls down the movie list. His fingers play with the loose hair that won’t fit into your bun.

He knows you hate it. Especially when he starts to call it a little rat tail.

You peer over at him, slightly nervous. He knows what you’re going to say, but before you even open your mouth he cuts you off—

"What? I like it." 

His head inches closer to your neck, placing small kisses down your earlobe to your collarbone. The prickles of your skin now rise over your chest. 

“And I know you like it too.” He taunts into your ear. He’s pushing you back towards the couch, peeling your legs open with one of his. Both arms are above you, enclosing you.

His lips graze yours, you can smell the sweetness of the strawberry drink he had.

You inch closer, closing your eyes, but before you know what his lips taste like— he's up again, pulling a jacket and mask over himself and slamming the front door shut.

Tears cloud your vision. It’s always one step forward, two steps back.

The tv plays an interview with some citizens gushing over the new Robin. 

You know who’s under the Arkham knight. Telling him to either come clean or leave you alone.

The replacement hurts more than he thought. He was abandoned, forgotten, then replaced. There was no mourning. Jason thought he would at least be mourned.

It rains one night and your car won’t start. The tow truck service won’t be here for another two hours and there’s a flash flood warning for your side of the city. You stare at your phone, your finger hovering over his name. 

“This is only strictly for emergencies” his voice clouds your memory.

You dial.

“Sweetheart?” He picks up, tense on the other side.

“I-I.. hi. I know you said this was only for emergencies but my car won’t start and there’s a lot of downpour. Can you come get me?” You feel yourself flushed, embarrassed, and tired. Maybe you shouldn’t have called him.

“I'll give you a ride, don't worry. I’ll be there in 10.” 

You don’t even question how he knows your location but sure enough in 8 minutes there’s a motorcycle revving down the street from where you are. It stops in front of your car. 

He gets off the bike, knocking on the passenger side of your car. You unlock it and he climbs in. His side of the car bounces and sends waves throughout your car.

He pulls the red hoodie down. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are a new shade of green. 

“You ready?” He asks gleefully 

“I’m not getting on that thing Jason.” Your head nods towards the bike in front of you.

He laughs. It’s one of the best sounds you’ll ever hear. The crinkles set around his eyes and how wide and toothy his grin gets.

“Why not?” He asks, the smile lingering on his lips.

“You know why.” You respond curtly. 

“You want to get home don’t you?” He leans in toward you, eyebrow raised.

He gets so close to you that you can feel the warmth he radiates. He’s nicer these days, less moody. He’s a lot more rested too.

“Come on, there’s nowhere safer than the back of my bike.” 

And you know it’s true. 

The safest place would be with Jason.

It still doesn’t comfort you knowing it’s pouring and he zooms in and out of traffic with no care.

“No, it’s raining outside and that thing only has two wheels!”

He laughs a little harder now. He shakes his head.

“Fine. We’ll stay until the tow truck shows up.” His hand finds yours as he reclines in your passenger seat. You recline too, watching the sunroof get hit with water droplets. His fingers rub circles around your wrist.

These days you’re not as tense around him. You shuffle in your seat to get a better look at him. 

His eyes are closed. The scar under his eye is fading, and the white streak in his hair is more prominent. 

“You’re staring” he says, opening one eye to look.

“I can’t help it.” You shrug. 

He turns towards you. Wrist still his hand, he pulls you over on top of him. You settle yourself, nestling your nose in the crook of his neck. He finds your neck and places kisses down your collarbone.

He stops. Pulls your face close to him. Hands encasing your face and he stares deeply into your eyes. It’s almost so unsettling you try to count the eyebrow hairs on his right brow.

“I’m sorry for...” He says quietly, trying to find an answer in your eyes.

“Hey, look at me.” He pulls your chin in between his fingers and kisses it softly.

“I’m trying to be better, and I know I can be… difficult. But I’m going to try harder.”

It’s the most he’s said to you all these months. He sounds like he means it. You peer down at his lip, caught underneath his top lip.

“Okay?”

You nod. 

A light halos above you. Jason gets out to talk to the man. He turns back to you — the helmet is snug on your head. Your stomach does somersaults as the rain and wind blow past you.

You hope that these changes come soon.

[deadbaguette]

I don't want to be repetitive but I love how you make the characters so tender and loving,,, so here's a weird request, do you have any scars hc? I mean, do (insert character) hide them? Or let their lover kiss and caress them? Oh, which characters I mean you say? Your pick, have fun!

It’s not repetitive at all 🥹 I love LOVE LOVE it when people describe my art as tender and loving because that’s absolutely my favourite thing to draw. But omggg scar headcannons … you just spoke to a specific part of my brain bcs I love thinking about scars, beauty marks, etc. I don’t have the time to make a fully fleshed out scar map, BUT alongside a small doodle for the character I have a definitive scar map for (Diomedes) I can share all the scars I hc and how they’re treated :D AUUGSGDH thank you for giving me the excuse to do this I always have so answering your asks <3

Scar hcs:

Firstly I think the only character I have a set in stone scar hc for is Diomedes! I draw him more often than I would like to admit, so the ones on his face are: one across his left eyebrow, one by his lip/mouth, one across the nose, one on the right cheek, one on the shoulder, one on the foot. He is the most scarred character I draw, and this is largely due to the fact that I hc him (it’s probably also to an extent canon) as reckless in battle. He’s not a pristine clean warrior, he’s all too familiar with blood and war. He carries the reckless scars he gained in Thebes with the other Epogoni throughout his adulthood, and for so long they served as a reminder of where he came from. Death and violence that’s haunted him throughout his entire life, and these scars are symbols of that. So, what’s a few more to gain in Troy? It’s not like it’ll make him look any less battle scarred if he gains a few more. He hasn’t had a good reason to care about his life until now, scars not only remind him of that but also make him feel like he can’t change it. But… I like to imagine the people that care for him (whether this be Odysseus, Sthenelus, or in an AU Penelope) treat them with such delicacy and care that it almost creates an entire other association for them. Sthenelus gently tending to a wound that will surely scar, so that when it does heal it no longer carries the association of a mistake in battle but instead a tender moment shared between them and them only. Odysseus and Penelope kissing the scars on Diomedes’ face is their favourite pasttime, because if he won’t love them (he feels indifferent to them), they absolutely will. A tender kiss to the cheek, a gentle kiss to just above his eye, a quick peck against the side of his mouth, a loving press against his nose that they would have to tiptoe to reach. Diomedes never felt any love, hatred, or feelings in general towards his scars. He never made any more to hide them, he wore what was convenient. If his new scars weren’t covered by the clothes he would wear, so be it. But in a way he’s grown to love them, or at least the memories and feelings they hold.

Will be more hcs below the cut!

Achilles is very unscarred. Like the only scar on his body by the time he was dead was the one on his heel. Patroclus is also relatively unscarred, but he has a few. There is one on his hand that Achilles loves to kiss, but like in a very specific way. I hc Patroclus to almost always the one to initiate the physical contact, and he tends to cradle Achilles’ face with his hand (literally one of my fav form of physical touch) and Achilles always leans into it and kisses the scar on his hand. Patroclus never really liked his scars, so he tends to cover them up. But I think I believe Achilles loved wholeheartedly every part of Patroclus and movements he’s spent with him and vice versa. Every scar he’s gained will have a story to tell, so even if Patroclus doesn’t show it to others, there is a story that Achilles will hear. It would be something as dramatic as gaining it in battle or something as small as “you got this when you fell from a tree? I love it.” They’re as much friends as they are lovers, and they actively choose to continue to be in each other’s lives. If this means sitting together recounting the tales of how Patroclus nicked himself carving wood a few years ago and scarred, so be it.

Hector… I need to talk about this one!!! So normal and sane about him. He’s undoubtedly scarred, what with him fighting at the front but he’s no Achilles. Hector hides his scars but not because he’s ashamed of them, it’s quite the contrary because he in a strange way enjoys looking at them, but rather that he knows it causes his family worry. Hector loves his family so much, and he sees the worry and sadness in their eyes when he comes back with new scars to Andromache. How she’ll stare at them like it’s another piece of him lost, and it won’t be long until he is wholly gone too. He hides them so she can focus on the him that’s there now, and comforts her saying that he will come back to her. When Kassandra looks at the new scars on his chest and she can’t help but sigh. She told him to be more careful, but truly in the end they’re both fighting a fruitless fight against the fates. Kassandra knows this, and she keeps count of how many her brother has until he gains his last lethal one. He’s hiding them so as to not cause his sister distress. She knows he will never believe her if she tells him what will happen to him, but she cannot help but mourn for the living man.

Agamemnon has quite a few scars. He’s the lord of men, the shepard of the people, and wealthy beyond what he needs. The scars don’t mean much to him, and if anything they’re even more a testament to his power. He’s no Achilles who can come out of battle unscarred, but perhaps that’s the difference in what makes him the leader of the Achaeans. The scars he bears are a symbol of his humanity and but don’t take away from his power and image. He SURVIVED these scars. But deep down? I do think it’s a little more complicated than this. I don’t think I’ve discussed Agamemnon that much, but I do find his character really interesting. His family name is uhh tarnished to say the least, but throughout all of it he’s had his brother with him. Agamemnon cares a lot about Menelaus, he goes to war for him, he sacrifices his daughter for him, and they endure 10 years of war together. Agamemnon maybe doesn’t care about his own, but he remembers every scar Menelaus has. Like that one scene in book 3 yk where he just starts doing all the dramatics of MENELAUS I WILL AVENGE YOU MY DEAR BROTHER and Menelaus is just sitting there… ever so slightly wounded… being like brother it’s fine and Agamemnon still goes like MACHAON DROP EVERYTHING AND TEND TO HIS WOUND IMMEDIATELY I WILL SLAUGHTER THESE DISHONOURABLE TROJANS FOR DARING TO LOOK IN YOUR DIRECTION MENELAUS. It’s just kinda silly and sweet how much he cares about his little brother. Ever scrape Menelaus got growing up I imagine it was Agamemnon tending to it, and remembers them all to prevent him getting hurt further. As an older brother, he made it his sworn duty to make sure Menelaus grew up strong and out of harms way.

[dullgecko]

Been thinking about the sick Riz ordeal more (mainly due to your idea of Sklonda showing them Riz's baby pics - this is one of the first times they've seen a baby goblin and they all agree they are adorable

Also, my brain keeps telling me during this, Riz would have fever dreams and wants Baron to be the subject but I can't think of what he'd do. Riz knows his party is at this apartment so it does counter the "they'll leave you behind" thing a bit.

Fig and Fabian were still flipping through the Gukgak family album when the rest of their party returned with food. Gorgug and Adaine portioning out an absoloute mountain of takeaway into separate dishes to share out among the team and Sklonda.

The goblin woman disappeared into Riz's room to check on him and see if he was up for eating any food, Sklonda returning a moment later frowning and shutting the door completely behind her. They had pulled an extra bowl out for Riz's portion as well but his mom just shook her head when Gorgug held it up questioningly. The half orc putting it back away in the cupboard without saying a word.

"Still bad?" Kristen had to swallow around a mouthfull of food to talk, the cleric trying to read a small book over Fabians shoulder as the fighter flipped through it silently. His own food getting ignored as he was currently engrossed in an incredibly dry, but apparently accurate, goblin biology pamphlet that Sklonda had pulled out of a drawer for him.

"His fever is a little worse, we might have to wake him up to take extra meds if it doesn't go down soon." Sklonda took her portion of food from Gorgug, the goblin devouring it in about three seconds before moving to put her bowl in the sink. She had to smile a little bit when none of the kids even batted an eye, most Solesians found goblin eating habits weird and would stare but they hadn't even looked away from what they were doing.

"If it's that bad shouldn't we take him to the hospital?" Fig asked, picking at her portion to try and remove the onions. The vegetables getting deposited into Fabians bowl since he didn't seem to be paying attention.

"Tch no. They don't know what they're doing. The last time he was sick they recommended we take him to the vet." Sklonda scoffed, rinsing her bowl out in the sink and nearly dropping it when a loud bang followed by a thud issued from Riz's room.

Fabian was the fastest to react, dropping the pamphlet on the floor and opening the door within two seconds. The smell of a recently discharged arcubus still hanging in the air as he took in the scene inside. Riz was sitting on the floor beside his bed, arcubus in hand pointing at a spot about three feet above the matress, with a freshly smoking hole in the drywall from where he'd fired his weapon.

Riz was breathing as if he'd just run a marathon, the goblin turning his head to glance at the confused half elf as he quickly backpedalled away from the bed towards him and tried to stand. The goblin nearly tripping over his own feet in a panic as he attempted, and failed, to hide behind the fighters legs. From his party's point of view the effect was somewhat odd, Riz clearly trying to stealth repeatedly in his allies shadow and failing every time making him waver in their perception a bit.

"Oh fuck, Riz you okay?" Fig ditched her food along with the rest of her party, the archdevil just the fastest other than Fabian to respond to the noise as she crouched down in front of the hyperventilating rogue.

Riz just clutched his chest as if he was in pain, shaking his head by way of answer as he tried to calm down. Fabian still hadn't moved from his spot in front of the goblin, single eye scanning the room for anything odd before shutting the door to the bedroom again.

"The room is clear, nothing that I can see anyway." he crouched down, carefully prying the arcubus out of Riz's shaking hand and handing it off to Sklonda when she came close. "Hey. You're okay, there's nothing there."

"You didn't-" Riz gasped, flicking his eyes over to look at Fabian "-see that?"

"There was nothing there."

"Okay... okay." Riz squeezed his eyes shut, baring his teeth as he rubbed a hand over his chest again. Breathing only starting to calm down when Kristen stepped in close to press a hand against his forehead, the cleric pushing through some magic to help sooth whatever was making him hurt. "Thanks. I'm okay. Chest hurts. Got spooked."

"You shot a hole in the wall." Fabian lifted Riz up under the arms, stepping over Fig who was still crouched in his way and shifting their rogue to sit on the couch rather than the floor.

"I was trying to shoot a hole in Baron." Riz muttered, taking a glass from his mother when it was handed to him and sipping at the bitter medicine inside.

"You're having fever halucinations honey... i'm going to hold onto this until your temperature comes down a bit." Sklonda made sure the safety was engaged on Riz's weapon, the goblin woman ducking into her own room to put it away until later.

"Okay." Riz pulled a face, downing the rest of the medicine and muttering a quiet 'thanks' when Fabian took the glass off of him and took it away. The rogue skootching back on the couch to curl up in the corner rather than heading back into his room for the moment.

Adaine had moved over to check inside Riz's room when Fabian had gotten out of the way, Gorgug joining her to use mending to patch the hole he'd made above his bed though it didn't do anything to clear away the drywall dust that had gotten everywhere. Nothing was wrong as far as she could see. The closet was shut, Riz's breifcase was closed and under his desk and the window was locked.

Once she was sure there was nothing unseen lurking inside she came back out, Boggy getting placed gently in Riz's lap as she sat on the couch next to him. "You can look after him for me for a while. We'll clean up the mess in there but you should get some more rest." She pat Riz's leg near his ankle, the goblin nodding and rolling onto his side to curl up around the familiar and drop back to sleep for a while longer.

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

Riz had only been partially roused from his slumber when his mom came to check on him, Sklonda touching his shoulder gently before pressing a hand to his forehead to check his temperature.

"You okay honey? Think you'd be up to eating anything?"

Riz groaned, shaking his head and rolling onto his back rather than staying curled on his side. One arm getting flopped across his eyes as he thought about the question before shaking his head to answer no.

"Alright. Let us know if you want anything later okay?" She gave the forearm flopped over his eyes a fond pat, Riz hearing her exit the room and shut the door completely when she left this time. Since his party arrived it had been open just a crack but now he was left in total darkness.

He let his arm slide off his face so it was draped around his head on the pillow instead. Eyes dropping shut again as he tried to fall back into a deeper sleep.

Riz wasn't sure how long he was lying there before he felt his matress dip slightly, panic welling up as a weight settled on his chest and made it harder for him to breathe.

"You are dying Riz Gukgak~" A familiar voice whispered close to his face, Riz's eyes shooting open to be greeted by cold empty sockets set in a pale white mask. Baron cocking his head to the side as he moved a hand to rest it on Riz's throat, the goblin strarting to hyperventilate slightly as he found it hard to move.

"You are in pain yes? Suffering? You wil die anyway from this but I could make it quick."

Riz bared his teeth, shaking his head minutely from side to side as he tried to will his arm to move. His arcubus was under his pillow, all he had to do was move and he could defend himself.

Baron tutted when Riz bared his teeth at him, moving his other hand to join the first and digging thumbs lightly into Riz's neck. The nightmare creature leaning in closer unti it was only a few inches in front of the rogues face as it started to squeeze, Riz's heart rate picking up further in pure panic until he felt like something had a grip on his chest as well.

It was at that point that he managed to will his arm to move, gripping the handle of his weapon and bringing it to bare against Barons ribcage and fireing. The bony white form jerking and letting him go which allowed him to scramble gracelessly off the bed into a heap on the floor as he tried to backpedal away. Arm keeping his weapon trained on Baron when it recovered from the attack and turned to face him again.

A sudden light from the doorway made Riz jump in surprise, Fabian staring directly at Baron but doing nothing as the goblin scrambled to get behind him. Not noticing that his breifcase was tipped over and open under his desk in his haste to get somewhere safe. He needed to hide. He needed to disappear so he could get advantage and attack again but his heart was beating so fast that he felt that everyone could surely hear it and it fucking hurt.

He heard Fig when she came over closer and asked if he was alright, not quite about to get words out with how hard he was breathing and simply shaking his head. Registering that Fabian had shut the door without doing anything and glancing up at him in a panic.

"The room is clear, nothing that I can see anyway."

The room was not clear. He'd been staring RIGHT AT Baron when he opened the door. Did he not see him? Even so he allowed the fighter to pry his weapon out of his hand, his joints creaking a bit because he'd been gripping it so hard.

"Hey. You're okay, there's nothing there."

"You didn't-" Riz tried very hard to take a deeper breath, desperatly hoping that Fabian was telling the truth but he had to check anyway. "-see that?"

"There was nothing there."

"Okay... okay." He pressed his hand harder against his chest, he felt like he was having a heart attack and his vision was starting to spot around the edges so he squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe Baron hadn't been lying. Maybe he should have accepted the quick option if dying would hurt this much.

His thoughts were interupted by Kristens hand against his forehead and a sudden wash of soothing magic across his frazzled nerves, heart rate finally starting to slow down after a few seconds and making him feel less like he was on the verge of heart failure. His chest was still sore but he could feel some of the last vestiges of his fear fading away as the magic suppressed it.

"Thanks. I'm okay. Chest hurts. Got spooked."

[cels-not-so-secret-love-affair]

required reading (sirius/remus)

a/n: this is just a fluffy few words of wolfstar, really. they’re a little bit in love.

‘Tired yet, Moons?’ Sirius skipped the last two steps of the staircase down to the common room, and flopped down next to his friend, hair swinging behind him.

‘Only a tad,’ mused Remus, flipping a page with his wand. Books floated effortlessly in the air before him, and a little distance away a candle sat on the coffee table, flaring in time with each inhale and exhale of his breath. Outside, the sun had sunk into its usual slumber, and time had begun to pass in the liquid, dreamy kind of way it often does at night.

‘D’you really have to be reading this late? What’s it even for anyways?’

‘Charms.’ Remus’ eyes were vague and far away as he answered.

‘Mate, Flitwick won’t care if you miss a deadline for a reading. Come to bed?’

‘Absolutely not.’ Sirius elbowed him gently in the ribs and sighed when he was batted away.

‘Rem, I’m serious. You’re his favourite student, besides Evans - you could be stood over a dead body with a smoking gun and he still wouldn’t believe you murdered someone. He’ll let you off this once.’

Remus snorted.

‘I’m well aware of who you are, Sirius. And I don’t fucking care if Flitwick will give me an extension, I’m finishing this book on time.’

Sirius paused to regard his friend more closely, taking in his ink-stained fingertips, his messy curls. His eyes were tired, but his jaw was set with a firm and quiet determination and something told Sirius not to push it.

‘Fine. But give your brain a break, and let me read.’

‘I don’t want you pitying me, Padfoot,’ came the reply, as the book in question was vehemently yanked out of Sirius’ reach by an invisible string.

‘I’m not pitying you, you self obsessed fuck. I can’t sleep, and I reckon reading’ll help take my mind off things. Now give over, and swap places with me.’ A resigned grunt of agreement, and the two rearranged themselves, attempting to accommodate for Remus’ lanky legs and Sirius’ tendency to sprawl. Eventually, they settled down comfortably, with Remus leant sleepily against Sirius’ shoulder.

‘Christ Moony, have you read all of this since dinner?’

‘Mm.’

‘You’ve done well.’

Remus laughed a little, and averted his gaze so that he was staring into the embers nestled in the fireplace.

‘I do my best,’ he replied quietly.

Sirius felt a sudden wave of admiration for his friend in that moment. His friend, who worked himself to the bone trying to make up for the days he spent in bed each month, trying to prove he was worth looking at as something that deserved a future. His friend, who, even on the brink of exhaustion, would still entertain the Marauders’ antics with a smile and a sarcastic comment and a suggestion or two. His friend, who would attend every single Quidditch practice without fail, despite having very little interest in it, just to watch the people he loved succeed. His gorgeous, gorgeous friend with those deep, kind eyes that smiled even when his mouth didn’t and his pretty, lilting accent and- this was not the time. Sirius turned his attention back to the book, trying not to think about the warm weight of Remus’ body against his own, or how he smelled so pleasantly of parchment and chocolate and cologne.

‘Where am I picking up from then, Rem?’

‘Top of the right hand page.’

‘Gotcha.’

An hour or so passed, and the book drew to a dull close with a final chapter on the Proteo Charm. The darkness outside had deepened, and thickened, becoming viscous and heavy. It pressed against the windows, making the common room seem even cosier in contrast. The air was warm and sleepy, the fire completely entrancing, and for a moment after Sirius finished speaking the two of them sat in silence to let the last of the consonant softly fade away.

‘Thanks, Padfoot.’

‘Anytime, Remus. Anything for our Moony.’

[imalayla]

Before it eats my brain up I will type out weird interaction with the neighbor diagonal from me. I'm walking Stol, he pees on a tree on the side of the street opposite from my house. It's not a yard, it's an empty spanse of grass, weeds, and trees that are between the parking pad of the apartment building, and the street.

Guy (tall, large, older man maybe 50s-60s) pulls up into his driveway and gets out. At first I don't even register that he's talking to me. But I finally realize he's asking me "is that your yard?"

I said "sorry?" Not sure if I heard him right.

"is that your yard??" (He sounds slurred , perhaps drunk?)

"No that's not my yard."

"don't let your dog go in other people's yards."

At this point I'm ?? Not sure how to process this but my alarm bells are going off due to this man's body language and tone of voice. So I just say "my dog peed on the tree." cuz I don't know what else to say.

He says even louder "don't matter, that's not your yard."

I wanted to say well is it YOUR yard?! But I just said "big deal, he peed on a tree, it's fine."

I continue walking Stoli, trying to ignore the guy but I can tell he's following me a little down the street which makes me even more nervous. I hear him saying something but I dont catch the whole thing.

Stoli stops to poop (and again I must stress this is NOT a yard. It's essentially a no-mans land, unkempt side of a residential street with overgrown weeds, invasive plants, bare dirt, etc.)

I am getting poop bags out when I hear the guy about "AND NOW HES TAKIN A SHIT? HES SHITTING?"

I don't say anything at this point but NGL my temper is spiking. I pick up the poop and debate on yelling back that if he doesn't shut up I'll throw the shit bag in his face. I keep walking though. I don't know why but it got my blood pressure up SO much.

I hear him say one more time "THAT DOG IS SHITTING!" But I continue walking around the loop and the guy stops following me after I ignored him over the shit comment.

This is the first time I've ever seen this man or even interacted with people in that house.

The place Stoli peed isn't his house or yard or land. What a bizarre thing to get angry about, my dog hiking his leg on a tree that's by the street. I picked up his poop as I always do. It makes me nervous bc no matter where I go for walks I have to walk past this guy's house because it's RIGHT there, corner lot diagonal from ours. Low key was afraid of being assaulted or shot, but it may just be my PTSD hyper vigilance. He was giving off some rancid vibes.

[cloudd-nyne]

.