a redraw of the first drawing i posted here to celebrate the fact that ive been in tumblr for more than a whole year posting my shit and havent deleted my blog in panic yippee \:D/ (mushy rant in tags)
someone giving Nightwing shit over his pixie boots era and suddenly the deepest, most terrifying gravely voice behind them goes 'you got a problem with pixie boots?' and they turn around and it's the red hood
You sensed that were you were not alone and gradually stirred from your sleep. Upon turning over and opening your eyes, an ethereal sight greeted you.
Asmodeus. Head resting on his arms, he leaned against the side of your bed like a fairy tale royal. His skin looked smooth and glistening. His eyes were as clear as an untouched tropical sea. Not a single hair was out of place. Artists would go to battle to acquire a muse even half as wonderful.
Your eyes felt crusty. Even half-closed, the light (or maybe just Asmodeus) was too bright and forced you to squint. Your limbs were inelegantly splayed out across the bed, with a sheet corner tangled around your ankle. There was a spot of dried drool at the corner of your mouth.
"What." That was all you could muster to say. What time was it? What was he doing there? What was going on? It was the prelude to many questions on your mind.
"Oh, you're awake? Good morning, sleepy head!" Asmodeus beamed at you, showing off flawlessly white teeth. Every tooth was perfect. You stared while waiting for your brain to turn on.
"I wanted us to hang out today," he continued, "so I came to see what you were doing. Sleeping in! It was sooo cute. Even now, look at you!"
You felt like a rotten moss-covered log in the forest out back. Asmodeus raised his D.D.D. and started snapping away, preserving the moment for eternity in images. That was a more alarming wake-up call.
Your brain urged its cells to move faster with a spike of adrenaline. Your hand lunged at Asmodeus' arm, grabbing his wrist, trying to sit your body upright. It was always so startling how soft his skin felt. Today's fragrance was something fruity. "What are you doing...?" you managed to say.
Asmodeus grabbed your hand back with delight. "So affectionate in the morning! I love it. I want to make sure I capture all of these adorable moments." You heard more shutter sounds, a whole burst of them.
Nope. Not while you looked like a spoiled potato in bed. This meant war.
he says i hate everyone except you and that is addictive and that is kind of romantic and beautiful because you're young and you're kind of a sarcastic asshole too and you don't like bad boys, per say, but you don't really like good ones either. and you like that you were the exception, it felt like winning.
except life is not a romance book, and he was kind of being honest. he doesn't learn to be nice to your friends. he only tolerates your family. you have to beg him to come with you to birthday parties, he complains the whole time. you want to go on a date but - people are often there, wherever you're going. he's just so angry. about everything, is the thing. in the romance book, doesn't he eventually soften? can't you teach him, through your own sense of whimsy and comfort?
at first - you know introverts often need smaller friend groups, and honestly, you're fine staying at home too. you like the small, tidy life you occupy. you're not going to punish him for his personality type.
except: he really does hate everyone but you. which means he doesn't get along with his therapist. which means he has no one to talk to except for you. which means you take care of him constantly, since he otherwise has no one. which means you sometimes have to apologize for him. which means he keeps you home from seeing your friends because he hates them. you're the single exception.
about a decade from this experience, you'll type into google: how to know if a relationship is codependent.
he wraps an arm around you. i hate everyone except you. these days, you're learning what he's actually confessing is i have very little practice being kind.